Menelaus in the Archaic Period: Not Quite the Best of the Achaeans [Annotated] 0199685924, 9780199685929

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Menelaus in the Archaic Period

OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 26/06/20, SPi

OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 26/06/20, SPi

Menelaus in the Archaic Period Not Quite the Best of the Achaeans A N NA  R .  S T E L OW

1

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1 Great Clarendon Street, Oxford, OX2 6DP, United Kingdom Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countries © Anna R. Stelow 2020 The moral rights of the author have been asserted First Edition published in 2020 Impression: 1 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, by licence or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above You must not circulate this work in any other form and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press 198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016, United States of America British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Data available Library of Congress Control Number: 2019954807 ISBN 978–0–19–968592–9 Printed and bound by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY Links to third party websites are provided by Oxford in good faith and for information only. Oxford disclaims any responsibility for the materials contained in any third party website referenced in this work.

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Preface ‘To be as gallant as possible, one might call Menelaus the perennial second best.’1 To the casual reader of Homer, Menelaus might seem an odd choice for a character study. Achilles and Odysseus are the stars of the Homeric epics, and their characters dominate our understanding of the poems of which each is the centre.2 Of all the characters in Homer, Helen has arguably held the most enduring interest, for obvious reasons.3 However great her appeal, though, she plays a limited role in Homer. In the Iliad she only appears in several brief, albeit pivotal, passages.4 It is quite the reverse with Menelaus. Menelaus has received rough treatment by many post-Homeric audiences. He has been an object of ridicule since antiquity and continues to receive short shrift in modern scholarship as indicated by the epigraph above.5 Still worse is his fate in popular American film.6 Yet in Greece during the archaic period it was not this way.7 Menelaus is central to the story of the Trojan War and an impressive and memorable character in the Iliad and the Odyssey. Indeed, Homer rather liked him, as sensitive readers and scholars long have known.8 Menelaus’ pre-eminence among the Achaean suitors of Helen is insisted upon in the Hesiodic tradition, where the marriage of Menelaus to Helen stands alongside the wedding of Peleus and Thetis for its world-historical implications.9 Sappho and Simonides 1  Austin (1994) 59. 2  Esp. Stanford (19632); Clay (1983); Nagy (19992 [orig. pub. 1979]); Schein (1984); Pucci (1995 [1987]). 3 Cf. Kahil (1955); West (1975); Clader (1976); Suzuki (1989); Austin (1994); Gumpert (2001); Hughes (2005); Maguire (2009); Blondell (2013); Edmunds (2016). 4 Cf. Il. 3. 121–244, 383–448; 6. 323–68; 24. 761–76. 5  Austin (1994) 59; cf. Visser (Neue Pauly online), ‘eine Persönlichkeit . . . deren Ansprüche größer sind als ihre Fähigkeiten’. (http://referenceworks.brillonline.com/entries/der-neuepauly/Menelaus-e732380#e732390); Krieter-Spiro (2009) BK III. 2: 124 (M.  ‘nur ein ­mittelmäßiger Kämpfer ist’). 6  Petersen (2004), Troy. 7  I follow the conventional dating of the Greek ‘archaic period’ as c.700 to 480/479 bc; cf.  Whitley (2001) 60–74. Kotsonas (2016) explores the validity of the periodization of the Greek ‘Dark Age’ but in discussing the archaic period largely retains the convention, e.g. 241, 259; cf. 244 fig. 1. 8 Cf. Σ bΤ ad Il. 17. 1; Willcock (1987) 189–90; Zanker (1994) 1. 9  Cf. Clay (2003) 168–74, (2005) esp. 28–9.

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vi Preface extol him. He is not only depicted but named on several of the most important works of art surviving from the seventh century bc, including the seventh century masterpiece in the British Museum known as the ‘Euphorbos plate’ (Fig. 4.10).10 In spite of it all, there remains to date no comprehensive study of Menelaus in Homer, much less in other archaic poetry or art.11 The lack of a more complete account of the archaic Menelaus has resulted in some startling philological missteps, as when one scholar rejected the widely accepted supplement [πανάρ]ι̣στον (‘most excellent’) in Sappho (fr. 16. 8 V) on the grounds that for Sappho to describe Menelaus thus is ‘surely to stretch credulity’.12 There is more at stake here than literary interpretation and names on vases. As a seemingly second-class Homeric hero one might not have expected Menelaus to have merited religious honours. Yet Menelaus is one of the few Homeric heroes for whom a cult has been demonstrated, beginning in the late eighth or early seventh century bc.13 With Helen, he was worshipped as divine in a sanctuary known as ‘the Menelaion’ (cf. Plb. v. 21. 1). The shrine was established just outside Sparta over the site of rather impressive Mycenaean ruins. Menelaus ‘was’ to Homer, early archaic vase painters, and votaries not only Helen’s husband but an epic hero with a stature and afterlife all his own. In the archaic period Menelaus achieved a heroic stature and cultural importance that he was never to regain. He was a unique and impressive figure, quite apart from his brother and his wife; a pan-Hellenic epic hero with a local cultic identity at Sparta. Though not, perhaps, a contender for the title ‘best of the Achaeans’ (e.g. Il. 1. 412), Menelaus was not only ‘best husband of Helen’ (Il. 3. 429; Od. 4. 263–4) but, simply, ‘best’—at least, according to what one loves (Sapph. fr. 16. 3–4V).14

10  London, BM A749. 11  Schmidt’s (1931) RE article compiles material from all periods of ancient literature, yielding a composite portrait of Menelaus that does not reflect the wide variation in the depictions of him in sources disparate in date, genre, and intent. Menelaus’ entry in LIMC, authored by Lily Kahil, appears in the (1997) supplement (LIMC VIII s.v.). 12  Austin (1994) 59; cp. Voigt (1971) 44 (app. crit. ad Sapph. fr. 16. 8); accepted by West (2014a) 2. 13  Mazarakis Ainian (2017) 101–2. 14  Cf. Nagy (19992) 26–41.

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Acknowledgements I should like first to acknowledge with gratitude S.  Douglas Olson, the ­advisor of the dissertation on which this book is based, and other members of the examining committee and faculty at the University of Minnesota. Mark Stansbury-O’Donnell advised my original study of the archaic vases and offered substantial assistance in subsequent revisions for the book. Richard Catling guided my understanding of the archaeology of the archaic Menelaion, shared his unpublished work on the site, and read several versions of Chapter 5. Anthony Spawforth also allowed me to study his unpublished work on the inscriptions from the archaic shrine. Without the very gracious help of these scholars I should not have been able to include this material. Next my thanks extend to those who read and commented on the ­manuscript, most especially to Nicholas Richardson (who read it nearly in entirety); Benjamin Sammons, Jenny Strauss Clay, and Tyler Jo Smith. In addition, thanks to readers of individual chapters including Naoko Yamagata, Jonathan S. Burgess, Anne Mackay, Paul Cartledge, Deborah Boedeker, John Dillery, Anke Walter, and the anonymous readers for the Press. All errors are my own. Earlier versions of material contained in Chapters 1 and 6 have appeared in CJ (2009) and ZPE (2013) respectively; I am grateful to the editors for permission to reprint material contained therein. I am deeply indebted to those who proffered assistance and hospitality during a (2013) research visit to Oxford and Greece: in Oxford, Richard Catling and Thomas Mannack at the Ioanniou Centre; Susan Walker and her staff at the Ashmolean Museum, who provided me a selection of Laconian lead votives for study. At the British School at Athens, I should like to thank Amalia Kakissis; Tania Gerousi; Vicki Tzavara and Catherine Morgan (then Director of School). Euaggelos Vivliodetis and his staff at the National Archaeological Museum provided me several objects from the collection for private study; Athanasia Papadimitriou, an overview of the Menelaion artefacts displayed at the Sparta Museum; and chère Adamantia Vasilogamvrou, with whom I spent a most pleasant day touring the site of Ayios Vasileios at Xerokambi. In addition to those already mentioned, I am grateful to my colleagues at  the University of Virginia, especially John Miller, Ivana Petrovic,

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viii Acknowledgements Lucie  Stylianopoulos, Sara Myers, and Coulter George. At the Press, I am indebted to the former Classics editor, Hilary O’Shea, for her initial interest in the project as well as Charlotte Loveridge, Georgina Leighton, Jenny King, Henry Clarke and Tim Beck. It is bittersweet to remember my dear teacher and friend, Bob ‘Kit’ Ross, who did not live to see the completion of the manuscript but contributed so much to my love of Homer and of Laconia. My last and most significant debt of gratitude extends to my husband and to my dear children.

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List of Figures 4.1. Laconian limestone relief stele from Magoula, c.600 bc. Sparta Museum, 1.

212

4.2. Argive bronze shield-band relief, early fifth century bc. Inscribed Menelaus/Helen. Archaeological Museum of Olympia B 4475.

214

4.3. Athenian black-figure amphora, c.550 bc. Lydos. Berlin Antikensammlung F1685, BAPD 310170.

216

4.4. Athenian black-figure amphora, c.520 bc. Antimenes P. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 69.233.1, BAPD 320086.

218

4.5. Athenian black-figure Siana cup, c.560–550 bc. Lydos. National Archaeological Museum, Athens 20813, BAPD 9530.

219

4.6. Athenian red-figure Nikosthenic amphora, c.520 bc. Oltos. Musée du Louvre, Paris, France G3, BAPD 200435.

222

4.7. Athenian red-figure lekythos, early fifth century bc. Brygos P. Berlin Antikensammlung F2205, BAPD 204102.

224

4.8. Athenian red-figure cup, c.500–490 bc. Onesimos. Villa Giulia 121110 (formerly Malibu 83. AE. 362), BAPD 13363.

226

4.9. Protoattic dinos-stand, c.650 bc. Cat. no. 1. Berlin Antikensammlung A42, BAPD 1001741.

229

4.10. East Greek plate from Kamiros (Rhodes), c.630–610 bc. Cat. no. 2. British Museum A749.

233

4.11. Corinthian column-krater, c.560 bc. Cat. no. 3. Vatican, coll. Astarita A565.

240

4.12. Athenian black-figure kantharos, c.550 bc. Sokles Painter. Cat. no. 5. Berlin Antikensammlung F1737, BAPD 350504.

243

4.13. Athenian black-figure hydria, c.540 bc. Archippe Group. Cat. no. 6. Antikenmuseum der Universität Leipzig T3327, BAPD 1746.

244

4.14. Athenian black-figure amphora, c.540 bc. Exekias. Cat. no. 7. Philadelphia, University Museum 3442, BAPD 310396.

246

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xii  List of Figures 4.15. Athenian black-figure amphora, c.510 bc. Leagros Group. Cat. no. 9. Staatliche Antikensammlungen und Glyptothek München, 1415 (J 380), BAPD 4652.

252

4.16. Athenian red-figure cup, c.485–480 bc. Douris/Kalliades. Cat. no. 10. Musée du Louvre, Paris, France G115, BAPD 205119.

253

5.1. Sparta (Menelaion) 1976. The Classical Shrine of Helen. Catling (1976–7) 34, fig. 21.

264

5.2. Inscribed bronze aryballos from the Menelaion, Sparta. To Helen, wife of Menelaus. c.600 bc. Catling and Cavanagh (1976) 148, fig. 1.

277

5.3. Inscribed blue limestone stele from the Menelaion, Sparta. Euthykrines to Menelaus, early fifth century bc. Catling (1976–7) 37, fig. 28.

280

Whilst every effort has been made to secure permission to reproduce the illustrations, we may have failed in a few cases to trace the copyright holders. If contacted, the publisher will be pleased to rectify any omissions at the earliest opportunity.

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Selected Abbreviations ABSA AD BAPD BK

Beekes Bernabé Chantraine D-F Dev.2

Erbse Fowler HE Laconia Survey LakSpoud LfgrE LIMC LSAG2 M-W3 Menelaion I Menelaion II

Annual of the British School at Athens Archaiologikon deltion Beazley Archive Pottery Database. www.beazley.ox.ac.uk. Latacz, J. and A. Bierl, eds. 2000– . Homers Ilias Gesamtkommentar, auf der Grundlage der Ausgabe von Ameis-Hentze-Cauer (1868–1913). Munich and Leipzig. Beekes, R. 2010. Etymological Dictionary of Greek. 2 vols. Leiden and Boston. Bernabé, A., ed. 1987. Poetae Epici Graecae. Testimonia et Fragmenta. Pars I. Leipzig. Chantraine, P.  1968– . Dictionnaire  étymologique de la langue Grecque. 2 vols. Paris. Davies, M., and P.  J.  Finglass, eds. 2014. Stesichorus: The Poems. Cambridge Classical Texts and Commentaries, 54. Cambridge. Beazley, J.  D.  1951. The Development of Athenian Black Figure. Berkeley. 2nd rev. edn, D.  von Bothmer and M.  B.  Moore, eds. 1986. Berkeley. Erbse, H., ed. 1969. Scholia Graeca in Homeri Iliadem. 7 vols. Berlin. Fowler, R.  L.  2000. Early Greek Mythography. Vol. 1. Text and Introduction. Oxford. Finkelberg, M., ed. 2011. The Homer Encyclopedia. 3 vols. Hoboken. Cavanagh, W. G., et al., eds. 1996. The Laconia Survey: Continuity and Change in a Greek Rural Landscape. 2 vols. London. Lakonikai spoudai. Hetaireia Lakonikon Spoudon. Athens. Snell, B., ed. 1956– . Lexicon des frühgriechischen Epos. Ackermann, H. C., and J. R. Gisler, eds. Lexicon iconographicum mythologiae classicae. 1981–99. Zurich and Munich. Jeffery, L. H., and A. W. Johnston. 1990. Local Scripts of Archaic Greece. Oxford. Merkelbach, R., and M.  L.  West, eds. 1990. Hesiodi Theogonia Opera et Dies. Scutum. Fragmenta Selecta. Oxford. Catling, H. W. 2009. Sparta: Menelaion I. The Bronze Age. 2 vols. BSA Suppl. 45. London. Catling, R.  W.  V., et al. forthcoming. Sparta: Menelaion II: The Historical Periods. British School at Athens.

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xiv  Selected Abbreviations NCH RE PMG PMGF SLG TC TCSV Voigt W2 West Il. West Od.

Morris, I., and B. Powell, eds. 1997. A New Companion to Homer. Leiden. Wissowa, G., W. Kroll, K. Mittelhaus, and K. Ziegler, eds. Paulys RealEncyclopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft. 1894–1978. Stuttgart. Page, D. L., ed. 1962. Poetae Melici Graeci. Oxford. Davies, M. 1991. Poetarum Melicorum Graecorum Fragmenta. Volumen I. Alcman, Stesichorus, Ibycus. Oxford. Page, D. L., ed. 1974. Supplementum Lyricis Graecis. Oxford. Trends in Classics Trends in Classics Supplementary Volume Voigt, E. M., ed. 1971. Sappho et Alcaeus. Fragmenta. Amsterdam. West, M. L., ed. 19922. Iambi et Elegi Graeci. 2 vols. Oxford. ——. 1998–2000. Homeri Ilias. 2 vols. Stuttgart and Leipzig. ——. 2017. Homerus. Odyssea. Bibliotheca scriptorum Graecorum et Romanorum Teubneriana, 2026. Berlin and Boston.

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Note on Citations For Homer, I cite from the texts of M. L. West (= West Il.; West Od.) with discussion, where appropriate. For Hesiod and the Hesiodic Catalogue, M-W3; for Cyclic epic, Bernabé (1987); for Alcman, Calame (1983); for Sappho and Alcaeus, Voigt (1971) and West (2014a); for Stesichorus, D-F; for Ibycus, PMG and Wilkinson (2013); for Simonides, W2. For BK I cite from the German ­edition; otherwise, I cite from standard English translations of secondary works where available (thus Schefold [1966], [1992]; Reinhardt [1997]; Giuliani [2013]). All other translations of primary and secondary texts are my own. I have not been able to include most material published after 2018.

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Introduction Methods and Terms

It is certain archaic vases—as much as the Homeric texts—that invite ‘parallel’ consideration of Menelaus in the art and poetry of the age. We begin with the exceptional vase known as the ‘Euphorbos plate’ mentioned in the Preface (p. vi; Fig. 4.10) which was painted on Kos, found on Rhodes, and destined for heirloom status. We see depicted there a duel scene involving three figures, each identified by painted name-label. ‘Menelaus’ engages ‘Hector’ in a duel over a fallen warrior, ‘Euphorbus’. And in fact, in the seven­teenth book of the Iliad, Menelaus slays Euphorbus and prepares to despoil the corpse (Il. 17. 45–67). No one dares challenge him until Hector enters the fray (68–72). Yet, as Homer tells it, the duel illustrated on the ‘Euphorbos plate’ never quite comes off. Of course, to ask the question whether the vase painter or his patron knew ‘our’ Iliad by no means entails an affirmative answer.1 I shall return to this fascinating vase in its artistic context (as best it can be understood) in Chapter 4 (pp. 232–9). What is im­port­ant here is the more fundamental invitation that this vase provides to look more closely at Menelaus in all his various depictions and establish a strategy for their interpretation. The notion that Menelaus possessed a discrete and recognizable identity in the archaic period that can be ‘read’ in its texts and glimpsed in its images and artefacts is an underlying premise of this book—without any parti pris as to the dependence or independence of image and text. Art and poetry are distinct endeavours, perhaps better understood as ‘parallel worlds’ whose inhabitants do not (and cannot) interact.2 The Homeric poems loom large in my study, and not merely for their length (outstripping all other extant poetry of the time). Nor do they preponderate the discussion because Homer provides the archetypal view of the character, as Stanford claimed in 1  Cf. Snodgrass (1998) esp. 105–9; Lowenstam (2008) 4–10; Giuliani (2013) 98–102 with further bibliography at 285 n. 35; cp. Burgess (2001) 77–81 (‘Iliadic-derived’). 2  Cf. Small (2003) 8–36, 155–72. Menelaus in the Archaic Period: Not Quite the Best of the Achaeans. Anna R. Stelow, Oxford University Press (2020). © Anna R. Stelow. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780199685929.001.0001

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2  Menelaus in the Archaic Period his literary study of Odysseus and Friis Johansen analogously investigated in art.3 Rather, the Homeric poems dominate the study of Menelaus in the archaic period because they stand at or near the beginning of the Greek mythic/historical tradition as it was understood and critiqued by the Greeks themselves.4 And while it is in Homer, as we shall see, that Menelaus achieves his greatest potential as hero, the same author(s) paradoxically invites us to question Menelaus’ stature and to doubt his strength. Critical responses to Menelaus accordingly have diverged since antiquity. The exegetical scholia to the Iliad are generally sympathetic to Homer’s Menelaus; Plato, far less so.5 In this introduction I provide a methodology for assessing how ‘Homer’ made Menelaus who he was, likeable or not. Pertinent areas of Homeric research on authorship, unity, traditionality, and allusivity will be surveyed prior to discussing the specific matter of Homeric characterization and differences between the two poems. I conclude with an overview of the remainder of the book, providing my approach to the relationship between Menelaus as we find him in Homer and the figure as depicted in art and honoured at Sparta in cult.

The ‘Homeric Question’ The interpretation of (any) character in Homer depends on certain basic commitments. Characterization depends on stability and coherence, which would seem to require a composition whose parts can internally be referred to the others and to the whole.6 Scholars have not always agreed that the Homeric poems are susceptible of this kind of interpretation.7 Furthermore, it is taken as a given that Homer did not invent Menelaus; he is a traditional figure in the Trojan War story whose basic identity and role at Troy are assumed to be known to the audience. Two questions are pertinent. What— if anything—can be ascertained from Homer regarding Menelaus’ pre- (or extra-) Homeric identity? Still more broadly, how is any ‘traditional’ figure expressed in the oral idiom of Homer? The answers to these questions will depend on assessing competing accounts of Homeric composition, involving traditional referentiality, neoanalysis, and intertextuality.

3  Stanford (19632) 5–7; cf. Friis Johansen (1967 [orig. pub. 1937]). 4  Cf. Hdt. i. 3–4 , ii. 116–17; Thuc. i. 3. 5 Cf. ΣbT ad Il. 17. 1; Pl. Smp. 174b–c. 6  e.g. Arist. Po. 1451a; Krischer (1971) 1; Bakker (2017) 57. 7  Cf. Bakker (2013) 157.

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Introduction: Methods and Terms  3 Leaf took it as axiomatic that one’s view of the ‘Homeric question’ ­ ecessarily informs his textual criticism (‘It is impossible to approach either n the textual criticism or the exegesis of Homer without some theory as to the way in which the Iliad and Odyssey reached their present form’). This view, though susceptible to challenge,8 has in practice been upheld by scholars of diametrically opposed commitments.9 W. B. Stanford, for his part, unapologetically indicates his view of Homer as a single creative author with ‘literary’ sensibilities, conceiving of him as ‘a sophisticated writer’.10 It is not my intention to rehearse the history of the ‘Homeric question’.11 My own view is that each of the Homeric poems was authored orally by a master composer and that, while the author of the Odyssey was different from (and later than) the poet of the Iliad, he knew it intimately.12 The manner of the poems’ regis­ tra­tion and performance context is indifferent to my interpretation of Menelaus.13 As to the relative and absolute dating of the Homeric poems and the Cyclic epics, I make no prior claims, preferring rather to observe such evidence (vis à vis Menelaus) as the poems and vases provide along the way.14

Orality, Traditional Referentiality, and Neoanalysis Scholarly approaches to the ‘Homeric question’ have tended, at least since the eighteenth century, to be related to scholars’ adherence to one of two opposing positions on authorship and composition. Over the course of the mid­twentieth century the older dichotomy between ‘analyst’/‘unitarian’ positions largely shifted to a division between ‘oralists’, emphasizing the importance of traditional diction, typology, and theme (along with the improvisatory 8  Cf. Bacharova (2018) 151, contrasting her method with that of Leaf [1900] xiii. 9  e.g. Nagy (19992) vii-11; cf. West (2014b) 1–4. Edmunds (2016) notes that these classicists’ disagreement on the role of orality vs writing in the creation of the Homeric poems is similar to longstanding debates among folklorists (esp. 2–8). 10  Stanford (19632) 8. Stanford’s ‘unitarian’ and ‘literary’ rhetoric was that of a scholar with a  deep understanding of the insights of recent ‘oralist’ research (Stanford [19592] xiv–xvii); cf. Davison (1956). 11  Recent overviews include Janko (1998); West (1999), (2012); Latacz (2006); Finkelberg (2018). 12  For the position, e.g. Scodel (2002) 52–3; West (2014b) 1, 25–7, 44–5 (though I differ with West’s views as to the specifics of the manner of composition/revision). I use the term ‘Homer’ as a collective term to denote the authorship of the two Homeric poems and spe­cif­ic­ al­ly to name ‘the author of the Iliad’ as against ‘the author of the Odyssey’. 13  Jensen (2011) 295–302 outlines the relevant considerations; cf. Finkelberg (2017) 29–30, (2018). 14  Cf. Burkert (2012); S. Morris (2014) 13–14; Finkelberg (2017).

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4  Menelaus in the Archaic Period and essentially unique and unrepeatable nature of any given oral performance) and ‘neoanalysts’, viewing the Homeric poems as unified poetic compositions that could be interpreted as such. Neoanalysts noted in Homer numerous motifs and characters that seemed to have been borrowed from older epics (collectively known as the ‘Epic Cycle’). ‘Neoanalysis’, in Kullmann’s recent formulation, ‘is understood to mean especially the method of explaining sections of the Iliad as semi-rigid adaptations of motifs taken over from older epic contexts.’ The criteria by which such adaptations may be spotted involve ‘friction’ between a given motif and its context.15 Ongoing research into living oral traditions has substantially enriched our understanding of various modes of oral composition-in-performance and the artistic possibilities open to oral poets, tempering more extreme critical assessments by M. Parry and others regarding the poet’s sub­or­din­ ation to the tradition.16 Even ‘oralist’ conceptions allowed for the creation of the Homeric poems by means of some manner of dictation or recording by an amanuensis.17 Gregory Nagy pioneered a contrasting interpretation, however, hypothesizing the evolution of the Homeric poems over time instead of composition or fixation at a single point in time.18 John Miles Foley elucidated an incisive ‘oralist’ method for the interpretation of the ‘art’ of Homer, demonstrating through comparative research how oral poets create and shape their compositions within a traditional idiom and poetics. Each recurrence of traditional wording or theme draws on its meaning in the larger tradition (‘traditional referentiality’).19 The ‘neoanalyst’ interpretive approach has been modified over time in response to substantial anglophone scholarship on Homeric orality, as Kullmann made clear in his (1984) article published in English, decisively abandoning the requirement of written Homeric exemplars.20 The rapprochement between ‘oralist’ and ‘neoanalyst’ positions continued apace, and in fact scholars such as Malcolm Willcock already had accommodated

15  Kullmann (2015) 112; Currie (2016) 22–38 discusses an ‘expanded neoanalysis’ seeking not so much an account of the ‘genesis or composition’ of the Homeric poems but a ‘poetics of allusion’. 16  Cf. A. Parry (1971) lii–lv; Foley (1991) 3–4 with n. 6 on M. Parry’s early ‘mechanist’ view of the operation of Homeric epithets. 17  e.g. Lord (20002) 124–38; A. Parry (1989 [orig. pub. 1966]) 134–40; Jensen (2011) esp. 224–7, 295–328; cf. ‘scripsist’ views at Gould (1977); Kullmann (1981) 29–30; Powell (1991); Dowden (1996); West (2011) 3–4, 10–14. 18  Cf. Nagy (19992) esp. xiii–xvii, 3–11; cf. Bierl (2012). 19  Foley (1991) esp. 6–37, (1999) esp. xiii–xv; Foley† and Arft (2015) 82–5. 20  Kullmann (1984); cf. Kullman (1991), (2002b), (2015).

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Introduction: Methods and Terms  5 both approaches for years.21 Willcock’s deft studies of Homeric character, blending oralist and neoanalyst approaches, have guided my own work on Menelaus (more below). Here it is sufficient to note his intuition into the compatibility of oralist and neoanalyst interpretations that later became the norm.22 The Cambridge commentators of the Iliad take a generally balanced approach to both positions.23 Since the turn of the millennium the two approaches have been in full and productive dialogue, notably in edited volumes and conference papers.24 The poems of the ‘Epic Cycle’ were always important both for neoanalysis and oral theory: preserving (according to the former method) the ante­ cedent poems or stories drawn on by Homer; for the latter, the traditional diction and typology creatively employed by Greek oral poets.25 As the two methods have come into alignment, the Epic Cycle has received increased attention.26 The depictions of Cyclic subjects in archaic art have proved fruitful to philological debates regarding the dating of the composition and dissemination of the Homeric poems, more or less in the form that we know them.27 Margalit Finkelberg, for instance, in a recent survey of the various arguments regarding an eighth- vs seventh- or sixth-century dating for Homer, considers the evidence of the vases decisively in favour of West’s (and Burkert’s) seventh-century dating of the poems.28 As indicated above, I make no prior assumptions as to the relationship between Homer, Cyclic epic, and the vases; although I do believe that my study of Menelaus in the 21  Cf. Fenik (1968) 235–40; Willcock (1973); as Currie comments, ‘there is no necessary tension between allusion and typology’, Currie (2016)11. 22  Willcock (1973) 3, 6; cf. Edwards (1990). 23  Cf. Edwards (1991) 16–19. 24  Cf. esp. Montanari and Ascheri, eds. (2002); Andersen and Haug (2012); Montanari, Rengakos, and Tsagalis, eds. (2012); Gallo, ed. (2016); Tsagalis and Markantonatos, eds. (2017). An excellent series of studies have been conducted by Jonathan Burgess, esp. (2001), (2006), (2009), (2016). A. Kelly has challenged several neoanalyst ‘proof texts’, cf. (2006), (2012); for Kelly’s method (focusing on the ‘referential’ nature of Homeric and other oral traditional poetry), (2007) esp. 5–14; cf. Kelly (2015). Bakker (2017) reconciles neoanalysis with his earlier ‘scale of interformularity’ (59 n. 3); cf. Bakker (2013) 157–60. 25  e.g. Kullmann (1960); J. A. Notopoulos (1964). 26  For the texts, Bernabé; Davies (PMGF); cf. the Loeb text and English translation by West (2003) followed by his study of the fragments (2013). Important studies include Danek (1998); Burgess (2001); Frame (2009); the contributions in Fantuzzi and Tsagalis, eds (2015); Sammons (2017); Scafoglio (2017); Davies (2014), (2016), (2019). 27 Esp. Wiencke (1954); Beazley (1957); Davies (1977); Cook (1983); Burgess (2001); Burkert (2012). 28  Finkelberg (2018); cf. Burkert (1976); West (2001) 5–9, (2012). For the importance of a festival context in the creation of the Homeric poems, see recently Frame (2009); Jensen (2011) (with contrasting views on the manner of composition [esp. Jensen (2011) 232 with n. 47]); Finkelberg (2018) 29–32 with further discussion of the ‘Pisistratean recension’ and bibli­og­ raphy. For the vases, Burkert (2012) esp. 8–9; S. Morris (2014) 13–14; Finkelberg (2018) 32–8.

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6  Menelaus in the Archaic Period several narrative idioms will prove suggestive, and I shall return to the matter in the conclusion (pp. 291–5). Disagreements over exactly when and specifically how the Homeric epics were composed does, and probably always will, persist.29 Substantial agreement among Homerists on certain points has, however, been reached. Not only are other epic songs and stories generally agreed to have been important, in a general way at least, to the creation of the Homeric poems, these poems (however they came into being) are generally agreed to be susceptible of interpretation as ‘texts’, even if only later as ‘written’.30 Stanford, for his part, ignored such issues in his study of Odysseus (19632 [orig. pub. 1954]). He unapologetically posited for the Homeric poems ‘an author’ and proceeded from ‘scripsist’ assumptions.31 He speculated about how ‘a sophisticated writer like Homer’ creatively negotiated the ‘demands of reader and audiences’ in transforming the ‘wily lad’ of folk tale into his epic hero.32 Later, when Piero Pucci took up the study of Odysseus (1995 [orig. pub.] 1987), by contrast, he took overt notice of the orality of the Homeric poems and considered their origins to be the composition-inperformance of lays over a period of time.33 Yet Pucci’s affirmation of Homer’s susceptibility of ‘literary’ interpretation was, if anything, more pronounced than Stanford’s. ‘It is . . . with polemic intent and with a specific strategy in mind that in this book I speak of Homeric “writing.” ’ Pucci, among others, encouraged subsequent scholars to ‘rethink . . . the nature of Homeric oral poetry as a phenomenon as technically complex and literarily sophisticated as written poetry.’34

Homeric Intertextuality and Methodologies of Allusion Research into the nature of intertextuality and allusion in the Homeric poems has taken over from, though not entirely superceded, disagreements between oralists and neoanalysts.35 At its most stark, the opposition 29  Cf. Currie (2016) 13–22. 30  Cf. Willcock (1973) 6; Pucci (1995 [orig. pub. 1987]) 17–19, 251–5; (2018) 146 n. 67; Nagy (19992) 4–5; Burgess (2012) (‘intertextuality without text’); for discussion, Currie (2016) 16–17. Jensen (2011) 179–213 discusses comparative and ancient Greek models for orality and writing; on ‘entextualization’ Ready (2015); (2018) 320–7. 31  For the term (‘scripsist’), Taplin (1992) 36. 32  Stanford (19632) 8–24. 33  Pucci (1995 [orig. pub. 1987]) 26–30. 34  Pucci (1995 [orig. pub. 1987]) 27. 35  Cf. Schein (2016 [orig. pub. 1999]) 81–91; I.  Rutherford (2012) 154–5; Currie (2016) 9–36; Bakker (2017).

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Introduction: Methods and Terms  7 between oralist and scripsist interpretations yielded contrasting positions on the very possibility of intertextuality or allusion in Homer. Foley explained seemingly allusive relationships in the Homeric poems as that of (traditional) ‘part’ to ‘whole’. Each new instantiation of an oral phrase, motif, or story pattern implicitly makes reference to the entire epic tradition (‘traditional referentiality’).36 Burgess extended the notion to include the repetition of specific wording, discussing possible examples of ‘textless intertextuality’.37 For ‘scripsist’ scholars, by contrast, identifying ‘literary’-type allusion is rela­tive­ly unproblematic as they take the Homeric poems to have been known early on (as written).38 Ian Rutherford comments that while there is general agreement that early Greek poets composed against a tradition and substantial (though lesser) agreement that poets were able to intend audiences to identify relationships between their poems, what remains at issue is how to understand and describe such relations. He remarks that earlier terms such as ‘allusion’ and ‘imitation’ have given way to ‘intertextuality’ and ‘traditional referentiality’.39 For all its nuance, Pucci’s (1987) study met with criticism regarding the use of the term ‘intertextuality’. In an afterword published in the (1995) edition Pucci addressed the critique, admitting that ‘the legitimacy of using [the term] “intertextuality” with pure aesthetic implications is a question . . . it is true that I have collapsed “allusion” and “intertextuality.” ’ Pucci claims that in his usage ‘intertextuality’ has the sense ‘total allusiveness, or textuality . . . . Accordingly, in using it as a deconstructive tool, I have altered also the trad­ ition­al notion of “allusion.”’40 Georg Danek implicitly pointed the way forward in his (1998) study of the Odyssey, exhaustively demonstrating how the poet incorporates Cyclic material to (self-consciously) ‘overwrite’ the tradition. What is most per­tin­ ent to my study, moreover, is Danek’s view that Homer’s remodelling of trad­ition is undertaken with a view to the depiction of character (‘correcting’ the traditional character of Odysseus).41 Danek found that Homer’s preferred method for the adoption of traditional stories, motifs, and themes was ‘quotation’ (Zitat), in which the oral poet relies on the audience’s fa­mil­ iar­ ity with (specific) ‘alternative versions’ of the story to construe the 36  Foley (1991) esp. 6–10; Foley† and Arft (2015) 82–5; cf. Kelly (2007) 5–14; cp. Danek (1998) 13–23. 37  Burgess (2012). 38  e.g. Dowden (1996); West (2014b) 27. 39  I. Rutherford (2012) 154–5. 40  Pucci (1995 [orig. pub. 1987]) 255; cf. 29 with n. 30. 41  Danek (1998) 1–28; cf. Danek (2010) 126–7.

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8  Menelaus in the Archaic Period meaning of his own.42 Danek finds oral parallels for this compositional strategy in Bosnian epic and, like Pucci, justifies his understanding of the concept of ‘intertextuality’ as applicable to oral-traditional poetry.43 In several subsequent studies Danek clarifies and further refines his understanding of ‘intertextuality’ in Homer. In one such study, he explores Jean Genette’s theory of palimpsests.44 The notion of palimpsest allows for a clear delineation of the relation between texts, with one text, the hypo-text, inscribed ‘behind’ the other (hyper-text).45 In parody, for example, an especially clear hierarchical relationship exists between a dominating hypo-text and an accompanying hyper-text.46 The opposite type of ‘palimsestuous’ relationship can exist as well, which Danek sees at work in the Odyssey: the hyper-text aims ‘to outdo and replace its hypo-text’.47 Broadly speaking, ‘[T]he whole epic tradition’, which forms the hypo-text of the Homeric poems, can no longer be regained ‘except by some kind of alchemy, in this case by philological reconstruction’.48 In the Iliad, however, Danek detects a somewhat more nuanced relationship between hypo- and hyper-text: rather than seeking to replace it (as in the Odyssey), the Iliad incorporates it anew into the narrative while continuing to hold it in relief, alluding to the ‘original’ meaning. Danek briefly discusses how this variation of the theory of palimpsests better describes Iliadic ‘intertextuality’; his test case is Homer’s invocation of the traditional ‘plan of Zeus’ formula for the story of Achilles.49 Danek’s account of the Homeric poems as two different types of palimpsests corresponds rather nicely, as we discuss further below, to the somewhat different strategies taken in each poem to portray Menelaus. What remains unspecified at this point, however, are (1) criteria for defining more 42  Danek (1998) 5–7; cf. Schein (2016 [orig. pub. 2002]) 37. 43  Danek (1998) 8–23. 44  Danek (2010) 123–9. 45  Published in the same year, Kelly (2010) uses the term ‘hyper-text’ differently, alluding to (electronic) hypertexts as an analogy for the ‘encoding’ of traditional stories and strands in the Homeric poems; cf. Tsagalis (2012a); Pucci (2018) 3 n. 4. 46 On the parodic relationship between the Odyssey and the Iliad, cf. R.  B.  Rutherford (1991–3) 50–1, reviving Monro’s discussion (1901) 127, 326–31; Pucci (1995 [orig. pub. 1987]) 69–70, 159; Bakker (2013) 143; cf. D. Steiner (2010) 239 (‘Index’ s.v. ‘parody’). Pucci (2018) detects an ‘almost’ parodic interaction with the tradition in the depiction of Zeus in the Iliad (esp. 3–4, 29–30, 201–31). 47  Danek (2010) 129; cf. Lang (1995), though Danek emphasizes their differences (133 with n. 25). Margalit Finkelberg employs the term ‘meta-epics’ for the Homeric poet(s)’ desire to supercede and replace other Trojan epics, cf. (2003), (2011) 201–2, (2015). Somewhat different is Burgess (2006) (‘metacyclic’); cf. Andersen and Haug (2012) 17–18. 48  Danek (2010) 135; cf. Pucci (2018) 4. 49  Danek (2010) 132–4; cf. Danek (1996) 33–4, (2002a) 176–8.

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Introduction: Methods and Terms  9 precisely the nature of whatever ‘palimsestuous’ relationship(s) exists between the Homeric and extra-Homeric texts and (2) the best terminology to describe it. Danek, for his part, in spite of expressed uneasiness about the use of the term ‘intertextuality’ (which, in its ‘soft’ versions, ‘becomes little more than a newly coined label for old fashioned concepts like “citation” or “allusion”’)50 has continued to employ it as a working definition.51 As regards the role of the ‘palimpsest’ in Homeric character portrayal, if Danek is right that the poet of the Odyssey has ‘re-written’ the tradition to correct the character of Odysseus, one might expect a similar re-writing of the character of Menelaus. What Stanford deftly stated of Odysseus is true, and even more so, of Menelaus: ‘As far as extant literature goes the story of [the hero] begins in the Iliad and the Odyssey.’52 The folk-tale origin of the character of Odysseus and certain other Homeric figures can be plausibly reconstructed.53 Stanford is able to use the folk-tale character-type (‘wily lad’) as a foil for Homer’s Odysseus. Though it is obvious that Homer did not create Menelaus (any more than Odysseus) de novo, a folk-tale origin proves less compelling for understanding Menelaus’ Homeric character.54 And the nature of Menelaus’ character in the Greek epic tradition is underdetermined.55 Menelaus was not solely—or even primarily—defined by a mythic function (‘husband of the departed bride’) nor was he the craven, political, or simply ridiculous figure he later became on the Athenian stage.56 So, in the absence of adequate comparative material about Menelaus’ origin, various methodologies for assessing Homer’s use of traditional or borrowed material (of whatever sort) will be surveyed in what follows, to establish my own preferred method for assessing possible relationships between the depiction of Menelaus in Homer, other early Greek epic poems, and/or the larger epic tradition. Once the terms have been defined, the relationships between poems and their influence (or lack thereof) on visual representations can properly be assessed. As to the relationships between Homer and the epic tradition, neoanalysts looked to narrative inconcinnities or anomalies as evidence for 50  Danek (2010) 129; cf. I. Rutherford (2012) 154–5. 51  Cf. Danek (2016c) 145: ‘What intertextuality definitely “is” can be seen, in my opinion, only by analyzing concrete cases’; cf. Currie (2016) 34. 52  Stanford (19632) 8. 53  Stanford (19632) 8–12; cf. Edmunds (2016) 39. 54  Cf. Edmunds (2016) 49–65; Rousseau (1990) posits a ‘functionalist’ Indo-European origin for the hero based on the Dumézil’s tripartite model of sovereignty; cf. Rousseau (1992) 58 with relevant bibliography at n. 5; on the tripartite scheme, J. Nagy (2014). 55  Cf. Willcock (2004); Sammons (2014). 56  Cf. Blaiklock (1952) 74–100; Edmunds (2016) 126–9, 139–57; E. Hall (2018).

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10  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Homer’s adoption of an epic exemplar or theme (‘friction’).57 Burgess adapts Kullmann’s work on ‘motif transference’ to assess Homeric borrowings from an oralist perspective.58 Pucci, on the other hand, used the criterion of a ‘pointed repetition marked by purposeful change’ to identify ‘a sort of quotation’ of the Odyssey in Hesiod (Th. 26–8; cf. Od. 19. 203).59 Burgess (2012), revisiting his own earlier work on the topic, points to the fundamental issue lurking behind Pucci’s purposeful qualifier (‘sort of ’). Given that most scholars agree on a ‘general correspondence of motifs’ in Homer and Cyclic epic, Burgess asks ‘what about words and phrases? Is there such a thing as quotation in early Greek epic?’60 He decides that even in instances such as the character-specific phrase μέγας μεγαλωστί ‘the general epic tradition, not specific poems’ provide the origin of certain specific phrases.61 Granted that this might have been the case, Burgess’s findings do not preclude the possibility that regardless of their ultimate origin, the re-use of certain phrases such as μέγας μεγαλωστί in one Homeric text might depend on an intermediary (Homeric or epic) text.62 In subsequent research Burgess concedes the possibility of some degree of Homeric influence on the Cycle by the early sixth century bc.63 Other methodologies have been proposed. Bakker (2013) uses linguistic models to resolve the dichotomy between ‘orality’ and ‘literacy’, proposing a ‘scale of interformularity’ that accounts for repetition of verses or phrases within and across the Homeric poems.64 The model brings Homeric formulae into line with research in natural language use.65 Hutchinson approaches repetition from a cognitive rather than linguistic methodology. Repetition is an ‘attention-grabbing’ feature common to oral and ‘literary’ poetry. Like Bakker, Hutchinson provides a way of understanding formulaic diction as encompassing a range of meaningfulness (generic/particularized ~ audience

57  e.g. Kakridis (1949) 8; Burgess (2001) 61; Currie (2006) 5 (critiqued by Kelly [2012] 228 n. 20); cf. Currie (2016) 22, 27–8, 238–45. 58  Burgess (2006) 148–9 with Kullmann (1981), (1984), (1991); cf. Burgess (2009) 59–71, (2012). 59  Pucci (1995 [orig. pub. 1987]) 193; cf. 238. 60  Burgess (2012) 168. 61  Burgess (2012) 182–3. 62  As Burgess recognizes: ‘My concern is not with the borrowing of phraseology from one poem by another poem, but rather the reuse of traditional phraseology in a secondary fashion’, (2012) 171 n. 9; cf. 170 with n. 5. 63  Burgess (2016) 18. 64  Cf. Bakker (2017), employing the traditional terminology (‘neoanalysis’; ‘allusion’). 65  Esp. Bakker (2013) 159–61.

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Introduction: Methods and Terms  11 ‘inattention’/‘attention’) rather than as a binary opposition (implied by Parry’s description of the Homeric epithets).66 di Benedetto (2007) employs the terminology of ‘reuse’ specifically for the repetition of Iliadic verses in the Odyssey. He distinguishes between two basic possibilities for the ‘reuse’ of verses: non-meaningful (‘irriflesso’, i.e. without full awareness of the context in the Iliad) or meaningful (‘consapevole’).67 The latter ‘consapevole’-type of re-use is itself subdivided into two categories, ‘generic’ (i.e. a deliberate re-use of verses without the intention of making meaningful allusion to the Iliadic context) and ‘individualized’. Each of these approaches creatively assesses the ability of Homer to use, and re-use, traditional formulae and phraseology in a way that is meaningful and contextspecific. di Benedetto’s caveat is paramount: ‘[i]t is very uncertain how much hearers of the Odyssey could remember from the other poem.’ Interpreting repetition as allusion often presupposes an ‘optimal’ audience (‘se il lettore se ne ricorda’).68 As a review of these various methodologies makes plain, the underlying phenomenon at issue is the repetition of phraseology, motif, or theme, whether within a single text or across others.69 Pucci identifies four ‘features’ of meaningful recurrence: (1) rarity, (2) marked repetition, (3) specificity of context or exclusivity of theme, (4) a ‘textual reason for the allusion’, by which Pucci seems to imply something like the neoanalyst notion of ‘narrative inconcinnity’. These features ‘force upon the reader the conviction that an allusion is either meant or has slipped in’.70 Similar to Pucci’s second criterion (‘marked repetition’) is the conventional requirement that to be considered meaningful, correspondences must be ‘striking’ and ‘significant’.71 The fact that certain repetitions, whether verbal or thematic, continue to incite audiences and scholars to seek for meaning suggests that, at the least, an allusion ‘has slipped in’. It must be emphasized that the determination of what is ‘marked’ and/or ‘meaningful’ is necessarily subjective.72 Due to Homer’s ‘overwriting’ of the 66  Hutchinson (2017) 156–8; cf. Bakker (2013) 158–9. 67  Cf. Monro (1901) 327–8. 68  di Benedetto (2007) 692; see Scodel (2002) 6–41. 69  Cf. Bakker (2013) 157–8; Pucci (2018) 146 n. 67. Burgess (2006) 157–9 discusses repetition in (oral) typological analysis, with bibliography at 157 nn. 20–1; in neoanalysis and motiftransference, certain instantiations of motifs are considered to be prior to others (158–61). For an analogous methodology in interpreting repetition of typical pictorial elements on Greek vases, Steiner (2007). 70  Pucci (1995 [orig. pub. 1987]) 238. 71  Currie (2016) 33 with further bibliography; cf. Currie (2012) 547–8; Danek (2016b) 41. Somewhat different are the criteria of R. B. Rutherford (1991–3) 43–4. 72  Currie (2016) 33.

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12  Menelaus in the Archaic Period tradition, not to mention the ‘accidents’ of later preservation (which themselves depended in part on scholarly predilections and prejudices), one can appreciate and even infer—but never prove—allusion.73 ‘Unfortunately’, as Pucci remarks regarding the behaviour of Zeus in Homer, ‘we cannot compare the Iliadic text with its sources, models and contemporary versions so as to judge what appears to be the Iliad’s parodic intent: only a precise comparison would allow us to define the reflexive intensity and innovative, even revolutionary force of the Iliadic text.’74 Bruno Currie offers a robust method and comprehensive terminology for inferring and discussing instances of seeming-allusion in early hexameter poetry, starting from the famous ‘allusive’ crux that opens the Iliad (the Διὸς . . . βουλή formula, Il. 1. 5 = Cypr. fr. 1.7 Bernabé = Od. 11. 297).75 Currie reclaims, polemically, the old (literary) sense of the term ‘allusion’ as ‘specific, unidirectional’ repetition of material from one text to another, even while recognizing the existence and art of multidirectional “traditional referentiality” also at work in Homer’.76 Currie’s interest is in repeated phrases, narrative sequences, themes, and motifs in early Greek hexameter epic (and its forerunners). My work applies his method and terminology to the creation of character. Currie begins by drawing a distinction between several broad categories of meaningful repetition (allusion) found in Homer and other early hexameter epic that justify his views on Homer’s ‘allusive’ art.77 We shall detect several of these allusive techniques in the depiction of Menelaus in Homer. The first category involves ‘self-reflexive tropes of allusion’ such as (1) signals to the source-text; (2) repeated words, indicating a sequel or prequel; (3) the use of a character’s ‘recalling’ of a motif or episode to cue the audience’s own recollection of it in another poem; (4) references to fate, prophecy, or the will of the god(s) as a figure for the poet’s adoption (or rejection) of the tradition; (5) the use of nekyiai to engage the poetry of the past; (6) metapoetic metaphors of ‘borrowing’, ‘theft’, ‘filiation’, or ‘sibling’ relationships; (7) song within a song. Other allusive techniques include opposition in imitation (contrast-imitation), often studied in the Iliad in the context of paired speeches, and narrative inconsistency. Having distinguished between these categories, Currie discusses the two conventional conditions to be met for inferring that an allusion is at hand: markedness and meaning.78

73  Cf. Danek (2010) 134–5; cf. Finkelberg (2011) 207–8. 74  Pucci (2018) 4; cf. 231. 75  Currie (2016) 1–4. 76  Currie (2016) 11, cf. 4–9, 16–17. 77  Currie (2016) 26–8. 78  Currie (2016) 33–4, 259–62; cf. Bakker’s ‘scale of interformularity’ ([2013] 157–69).

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Introduction: Methods and Terms  13 Currie elucidates a comprehensive terminology by which allusion (in varying degrees of markedness and meaning) can be described and further defined.79 While preferring ‘allusion’ as a general term for purposive, uni­ dir­ec­tion­al repetition between poems, Currie adopts a non-standard use of ‘intertextuality’ as synonymous with allusion (somewhat like Pucci, quoted above [7]). For Currie, intertextuality facilitates a helpful distinction between intra- and intertextual allusions.80 ‘Interaction’, as defined by Currie, is a broader term than allusion that allows for the range of marked relations between a poem and other entities (including the poetic tradition, the mythical tradition, a ‘simple story’, or another poem). Interaction between poems comprises a range of markedness, with ‘evocation’ being a less strongly marked interaction than ‘quotation’. In the latter category, verbatim quotation can exist between (or within) poems and is more strongly marked than nonverbatim quotation (which is possible at the level of story-pattern, motif, or wording). Other distinctions of terminology that may prove helpful in interpreting character include ‘reception’ as a means of neutrally describing meaningful changes worked on one text by another (which, in its stronger form, is called ‘refiguration’). Genetic claims between repeated material include ‘reprises’, indicating that a later recurrence is cued by the former; and ‘dependence’ (x depends on y), which can be direct or mediated. I shall employ these terms as appropriate to describe allusive elements and techniques in Homer’s portrayal of Menelaus. Though Currie applies his methodology of allusion to Cyclic epic and other early hexameter poetry, I do not make much use of it for discussing Menelaus in the Cyclic summaries and fragments—not because allusivity did not exist in these poems, but because for Menelaus the evidence is so slight that they must be assessed on a case-by-case basis (Chapter 3).

Theories of Homeric Character Depiction Character vs Personality Any hearer or reader of the Iliad readily recognizes that the greatest heroes—Achilles, Odysseus, Nestor and, I hope to show, Menelaus, are vividly drawn and utterly distinct.81 Currie’s methodology of Homeric 79  Currie (2016) 34–6. 80  Cf. Pucci (1995 [orig. pub. 1987]) 205–6. 81  On interpretation of character in the exegetical scholia, Richardson (1980) 272–5; on scholiasts’ understanding of point-of-view, Nünlist (2003).

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14  Menelaus in the Archaic Period allusion contributes to approaches already available for the description and interpretation of Homeric character. Christopher Gill drew a basic distinction between ‘character’ and ‘personality’ in Homeric character-portrayal and audience response. ‘Characters’ are figures that generally show agency in their actions, are guided by moral and ethical concerns, and are presented from an impartial or ‘objective’ standpoint. ‘Personality’ is associated with individuals whose behaviour often is determined rather than chosen, arising from psychological causes rather than conscious reasons. The latter types employ a self-referential ethical framework and a ‘first personal’ point of view.82 ‘We moderns tend to view Achilles as a “personality,” ’ Gill comments, ‘ “subjectively”, in so far as we merge our view with his, rather than situating him “objectively” in his context.’83 The distinction is meaningful for Menelaus in the Iliad, as we shall see, where the poet invites the audience to regard Menelaus as a ‘personality’.

The ‘Literary Self ’ Lowell Edmunds discusses the notion of selfhood in mythological characterportrayal, defining the ‘self ’ as a literary character ‘whom the poet can imagine and from which his representation starts’. He rejects the definition of Helen as a ‘self ’ in this sense on the objection that the Greeks did not consider Helen a fictional character like the ‘literary selves’ of characters in modern novels. Ancients considered her a historical person ‘whose bones could, hypothetically, have been dug up somewhere’.84 The objection fails, perhaps, to do justice to the ability of Homer’s audience (and successive auditors of the Homeric epics) to engage the same character in different conceptual frames or to allow for the imaginative reconstruction of a real but historically now-distant individual. Still more, when it comes to Menelaus Homer explicitly rejects the possibility of Menelaus’ bones ‘being dug up

82  Gill (1990) esp. 2–5. Gill interprets Achilles in the Iliad as conforming to both types. Other characters react to Achilles as a ‘character’, terrible and proud (Il. 11. 653–4; 9. 699–700). Achilles’ own speech and the situation in which he finds himself elicits a different reaction (13–16). 83  Gill (1990) 16. Edmunds (2016) draws on Gill’s distinction to define his approach to Helen. Edmunds distinguishes his approach from others by limiting his analysis to Helen as a ‘character’ in narrative, understood through her actions and speech, rather than as ‘personality’ (or ‘self ’) with an inner life (189–96); cp. Blondell (2013) xi–xii. 84  Edmunds (2016) 239.

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Introduction: Methods and Terms  15 somewhere’, even hypothetically, in Proteus’ prophecy of Menelaus’ afterlife in Elysium (Od. 4. 563–5).

‘Boring’ vs ‘Interesting’ Peradotto (2002) distinguishes two types of character: the first is a simple, folk-tale type, in which character arises simply from a series of actions; the second is subject to moral valuation by the narrator or other characters.85 Individual characters of the second type are distinguished from one another, Peradotto argues (in a conception derived from Barthes), by ‘precisely the unclassifiable, the irreducible residue that remains when all generic, classificatory, categorizing predication has been exhausted’.86 ‘Boring’ characters are conventional; ‘interesting’ characters are marked and ‘defamiliarizing’.87 There is an intuitive logic to the unapologetically subjective distinction. I shall discuss the linguistic and rhetorical means by which Homer marks out Menelaus as ‘interesting’. Christoph Barck—reacting against evaluative readings of character such as ‘good’ or ‘bad’—emphasizes the importance of the poet’s intention and the character’s function within the poem.88 And indeed in each of the Homeric poems Menelaus is distinguished from the other figures by a particular and unique function within the story.

‘Mental Moulds’ and Meaningful Repetition It has been mentioned above that Malcolm Willcock anticipated the rappro­ chement between competing interpretive models of Homeric com­pos­ition, drawing on oralist research and type-scene analysis as well as neoanalysts’ hypotheses as to the poetic origins of certain characters and motifs.89 Willcock developed a lucid account of Homeric character-portrayal in a series of short articles published over a number of years.90 His emphasis on the importance of repetition in character portrayal, moreover, aligns with the recent work discussed above on the importance of marked and meaningful repetition as an intertextual or allusive strategy. In an early 85  Peradotto (2002) 2–10. 86  Peradotto (2002) 11. 87  Peradotto (2002) 13. 88  Barck (1971) 7. 89  Willcock (1973) 5–6; cf. Willcock (2002) 224–5. 90 Willcock (1973), (1983), (1987), (2002), (2004). Edwards (1987) builds on Willcock’s insights to discuss Homeric adaptation of traditional topoi; Minchin (2011) confirms the validity of Willcock’s approach through comparative studies in machine learning and psychology.

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16  Menelaus in the Archaic Period study (1973) of the Funeral Games Willcock observed that Homer’s characters are the result of a stable conception of the figure within the mind of the poet (a ‘mental mould or pattern’) that expresses itself in action.91 The characters’ actions, in other words, follow certain traditional patterns inherited by the poet, but within these patterns there is ample room for the poet’s creative invention. Diomedes, for example, is a ‘natural winner’, Willcock claims; this would reflect Homer’s ‘mental mould’ of the character. Homeric invention occurs in how the poet chooses to bring about Diomedes’ victory, the ‘proper and acceptable result’ according to the traditional pattern of the character.92 Willcock reiterated and refined the principle in a subsequent article (1983) on Antilochus. [I]t often seems that incidents in the Iliad are chosen, not for the excitement or significance of the incidents themselves, but for the presentation of character. The method is repetition; individuals behave in a consistent way, so that the hearer or reader becomes familiar with them and finds the actions appropriate precisely because the people involved are rec­og­niz­able. This is a particular case of the well-known ‘composition by theme’ . . . . Thematic patterning of thought parallels formulaic patterning of the language; and an example is the repetition of behaviour which delineates character.93

Character expresses itself in action, as in the previous (1973) formulation, but now Willcock emphasizes that character-portrayal guided Homer’s choices about the stories he would tell. ‘Repetition’ of characteristic actions, moreover, is the means by which individual characters are delineated. In a brief but incisive study (2002) of Menelaus in the Iliad, Willcock comments on the sensitivity and vulnerability of the figure. To the repetition of characteristic patterns of action (here called ‘scenarios’) Willcock adds traditional epithets to his account of Homeric character.94 Willcock considers the epithets to provide ‘a new source of information’, though he acknowledges the speculative nature of the endeavour.95 Bakker (2017) articulates a somewhat similar methodology in his study of Hector but confines his approach to understanding the intratextual repetition of epithets and phraseology. ‘[T]he repetition of key phrases or sequences of verses, within the system of a single poem that constitutes its own grammar, can 91  Willcock (1973) 3. 92  Willcock (1973) 3–5. 93  Willcock (1983) 480; cf. (2002) 223–5. 94  Cf. Bakker (2017) 73–4. 95  Willcock (2002) 223–4.

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Introduction: Methods and Terms  17 guide knowledgeable audiences to the interpretation intended by the poet(s).’96 Willcock (2004) continues to develop the notion of reconstructing character through the epithets, emphasizing the discrepancy between Menelaus’ martial epithets (ἀρηΐφιλος, ἀρήϊος) and the ‘seeming change’ in his depiction in Homer. No longer a ‘great warrior’, as the epithets imply he was in poetry before Homer, Willcock describes the Iliadic figure as ‘the least warlike of all the major heroes . . . amiable, ineffectual, requiring protection’.97 The overall relationship between Homer’s depiction of Menelaus and the tradition is one of interaction: Menelaus’ behaviour appears in a marked relationship with the meaning encoded in the trad­ition­al epithets. Willcock describes Homer as having refigured the ‘warlike’ Menelaus of tradition, contradicting it. Willcock’s methodology of interpreting Homeric characterization as the repetition of stable, characteristic patterns of action has been confirmed in subsequent research.98 In my view, however, Willcock failed to fully account for the nuance in Homer’s depiction of Menelaus and reception of the ­tradition. Currie’s terminology allows for the nuances and contradictions to be isolated and discussed. I believe that Homer interacts with the tradition as encoded in Menelaus’ epithets but does not entirely refigure it. The seeming-contradiction between the hero and his epithets itself becomes Menelaus’ characteristic theme, a ‘mental mould’ problematized, and then resolved, by the poet. This finding is in line with recent studies of other Iliadic characters exploring contradictions and nuances in Homer’s use of tradition for the creation of character.99 Stanford insisted that Odysseus was ‘meant’ to be the same character in the Iliad as in the Odyssey, and Pucci in his very different study of the character upheld the view. My study of Menelaus begins from the premise mentioned above that the Odyssey interacts with the Iliad as master-text.100 Danek’s (2010) comments regarding the different ‘palimsestuous’ relationships that obtain between the Odyssey and the Iliad and the epic tradition are pertinent here. As we shall see, there are differences in the allusive 96  Bakker (2017) 73; cf. Hutchinson (2017), on Homer’s use of traditional verse elements such as epithets, formulae, and similes to guide audience attention. 97  Willcock (2004) 53; cf. Willcock (2002). 98  Minchin (2011); Hutchinson (2017) 146–9. 99  Esp. Scafoglio (2017) (Ajax); Bakker (2017) (Hector); Pucci (2018) on the polyvalent nature of Zeus and his relations with men; cf. Bacharova (2018) on poetic competitions’ role in the creation of the Iliadic character of Hector; cf. Kelly (2018) on contrast imitation in the paired speeches of Tlepolemus and Sarpedon as a tool for enhancing the poet’s authority. 100  Cf. Currie (2016) 26–8.

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18  Menelaus in the Archaic Period strategies for the depiction of character in the two poems as well. A broad overview is provided in what follows of the various allusive strategies employed for the depiction of Menelaus in Homer. This outline of Homeric allusivity leads to the methodological considerations pertinent to the chapters in Part II concerning the relationship between Homeric texts, other archaic poetry, and the ‘parallel worlds’ of art and cult.

Overview of Part I: Homer Both in the Iliad and the Odyssey, intratextual allusions are the most productive type of meaningful repetition in Homer’s portrayal of Menelaus. Currie defines contrast-imitation as ‘the tendency for a target-text to work detailed and systematic reversals on its source-text’.101 Willcock emphasized the seeming-contrast in the Iliad between Menelaus’ martial epithets and his failure to decisively overcome the sons of Priam in battle. For Willcock, Homer refigured the traditional meaning of the character (as the epithets, in his view, embed his traditional ‘meaning’). But Menelaus’ contradictory reputation becomes itself an important ‘theme’ in the poem: the narrator, other characters, and even Menelaus himself remark on it. This self-reflexive trope (‘recalling’) interacts chiefly within the Iliad. Whereas in Willcock’s assessment a ‘weak’ Iliadic Menelaus contrasts with the ‘warlike’ Menelaus of the tradition (embedded in epithets), in my reading narrator- and character-text contrast a purportedly traditional reputation for ‘weakness’ with a present eagerness to fight. If Menelaus was a weakling in some other text than the Iliad, it is no longer accessible to us—and this is certainly not what the epithets imply. For Menelaus in the Iliad, we cannot easily ‘get behind’ the text. Pucci (2018) has remarked on the revisionist quality of Iliadic allusions: ‘the Iliadic allusion to a previous text—even a quotation— appears not simply as a repetition, a reusing of the text, but a disapproval, or an amused or mocking rewriting of it. Unfortunately, the lack of the original model has made it impossible for us to decide.’102 Homer does exploit a marked interaction with Menelaus’ traditional role in the Trojan War at two pivotal junctures in the Iliad. The epic tradition is prominently evoked in the duel with Paris and its aftermath (Iliad 3–4) and in the defence of Patroclus (Iliad 17).103 Georg Danek, like many others, has 101  Currie (2016) 27 with nn. 172–3. 102  Pucci (2018) 266; cf. 4. 103  Barck (1971) 7; cf. Barck (1971) 9–11; Minchin (2011) 328–9.

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Introduction: Methods and Terms  19 emphasized the subtle and allusive manner by which the Iliad incorporates the Trojan War story. ‘[T]he poet rewrites the poem of the Trojan War, assuming knowledge on the part of his audience and alluding every now and then to its own hypo-text, but correcting and changing it in a consistent way.’104 Menelaus plays a central role in the re-writing. While the main character of the Iliad is Achilles and its main theme is his wrath, the sub-theme of the poem is the Trojan War and it, by and large, belongs to Menelaus. As we shall see in the following chapter, Menelaus’ story-within-a-story is coherent, carefully plotted, and satisfactorily resolved.105 Menelaus is the living raison d’être and chief protagonist of the Trojan War as Homer conceives it. He claims personal responsibility for the war and is, in his way, as critical to its eventual success as Achilles.106 In light of his conflicted identity as a warrior, moreover, it is striking that Menelaus accomplishes what Achilles in his wrath does not: the successful defence of the corpse of Patroclus. Menelaus’ curious prominence in the defence, as I shall show, may be explained in light of Homer’s re-writing of the Trojan War story.107 At the beginning of the Iliad Achilles’ withdrawal from battle sets the two stories (‘war’ and ‘wrath’) in tension with the other. Over the course of the poem Homer conducts an implicit negotiation between the two stories through their heroes. Menelaus and Achilles never meet; instead, however, Menelaus ‘plays proxy’ for Achilles at two critical junctures. Menelaus’ proxy fight for Patroclus in Book 17 results in Achilles’ return to battle; his reconciliation with Antilochus in the Funeral Games realigns the paradoxical narrative stance taken by the Iliad to its tradition. While Antilochus is Achilles’ companion in the Aithiopis (Aith. arg. 13–14, 19–20) he fights alongside Menelaus throughout the Iliad. After the rescue of Patroclus Menelaus sends him (allusively) ‘back’ to Achilles (Il. 17. 691). The traditional relationship between Antilochus and Achilles is alluded to again in the midst of Menelaus’ dispute with Antilochus at the Games, when the narrator ‘quotes’ Antilochus’ role as Achilles’ beloved companion (23. 555–6). Chief among Menelaus’ complaints against Antilochus is his seeming-breach of their friendship; Menelaus’ subsequent reconciliation

104  Danek (2010) 132. 105 Cf. Whitman (1958) 182–3; Reinhardt ([1963]  1997) 187; Lang (1995) 152; Danek (2010) 130–3. 106  Robert (1950) 237; A. Parry (1989) 317–18; Mackay (2001) 9; Scodel (2008) 71. 107  Kullmann (1960) 94, examining the matter from a neoanalyst standpoint, remarks that unlike other motifs in the episode Menelaus’ prominence in the defence of Patroclus may not be traced back to any known incident from the Aithiopis or another Cyclic poem.

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20  Menelaus in the Archaic Period with Antilochus on this score intratextually points to the reconciliation of Achilles with the Achaeans and intertextually to the successful conclusion of the war. In Danek’s view, the Odyssey seeks to outdo and replace the trad­ ition, whereas the Iliad re-writes the tradition but cannot, and does not aim to, replace it.108 The logic of Menelaus in the Iliad—which is the logic of a contradictory, flawed hero—depends on maintaining both the traditional and novel Homeric facets of his character in view: ‘warlike’ (ἀρηΐφιλος) Menelaus, championing the sack of Troy; and Menelaus, the ‘soft’ one (μαλθακός Il. 17. 588) who eagerly seeks to challenge, but never quite prevails, against the sons of Priam. It is uncontroversial that the Odyssey poet quotes or depends on Cyclic return stories to contextualize the story of Odysseus.109 Most scholars also generally agree that the Odyssey interacts with the Iliad.110 Yet while s­ cholars have observed ‘Cyclic’ themes that are evoked in the character-drawing of Menelaus,111 the importance of the Iliad as source-text for the char­ac­ter­iza­ tion of Menelaus in the Odyssey has been less appreciated. Nestor’s speech in the third book of the Odyssey, recalling Menelaus’ return, signals the Cyclic tradition as source-text. The Iliad is the source-text alluded to at the beginning of Book 4, however, through the narrator’s quotation of Menelaus’ entry in the Catalogue (Od. 4. 1–2; cf. Il. 2. 581) and by means of the narration of a nuptial feast between Menelaus’ (and Helen’s) daughter and the son of Achilles (Od. 4. 5–7). Other allusive techniques appear throughout the episode at Sparta, including narratorial quotation of Iliadic verses of causation and suffering; the sibling-relationship between Peisistratus and Antilochus; and Helen and Menelaus’ competing ‘recollections’ about the Trojan horse. The Proteus episode on the second day of Telemachus’ visit, in which Menelaus narrates his own account of the return, is among the most multi-valent episodes in the poem, and the poet employs a range of selfreflexive tropes: embedded song, memory, prophecy and fate. The Proteus story reaches beyond the Greek epic tradition to folk tale and shamanism. 108  Danek (2010) 126–7, 129, 132–4. 109  Danek (1998) 37; cf. Currie (2016) 35. 110 For verbatim quotation, Monro (1901) 327–31; Marg (1956); Burkert (1960); Usener (1990) esp. 5–8; cf. R.  B.  Rutherford (1991–3) 42–9; Maronitis (2004 [1983]); di Benedetto (2007); West (2014b) 25–7, 40; Currie (2016) 40–2. For non-verbatim quotation, Danek (1998) esp. 5–28, 509 (and cf. 525, ‘Iliaszitate’). For ‘allusion’, Pucci (1995 [1987]) 26–30 with 29 n. 30; Currie (2016) 4–36; cp. Kelly’s (2012) concerns with the proliferation of terminologies (esp. 223, 262–3 with n. 105). 111  Cf. Petropoulos (2012); West (2013) 284ff. (implicitly answered by Danek [2015] 356–60, 366); West (2014b) 27–30; Currie (2016) 72–3.

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Introduction: Methods and Terms  21 Further still, in Proteus’ prediction of Menelaus’ unique translation to Elysium, the Odyssey may point beyond the confines of its fictional narrative to the contemporaneous ‘real-world’ existence of Menelaus as not merely a heroic character, but divine. In Odyssey 15, however, Menelaus’ prominence recedes even as Helen’s stature increases (esp. Od. 15. 172–3). Self-reflexive strategies at work in the several other ‘nonce’-mentions of Menelaus define him according to the relationship with Helen and with his brother Agamemnon.

Overview of Part II: Votaries, Painters, and Poets The shift in Menelaus’ relationship with Helen in Book 15 of the Odyssey and the ‘nonce’-mentions of the figure elsewhere in the poem signal a refiguring of Menelaus, orienting the Homeric poem (back) toward his depiction in other archaic narratives. From what we can glimpse of Menelaus in the disparate and fragmentary texts of non-Homeric archaic poetry, Menelaus remains a hero of significance among the Achaeans. In these texts, however, he is often defined by Helen (Chapter 3). This is so when he is depicted on Athenian vases as well (Chapter 4). Menelaus long has been identified, with Helen, as protagonist(s) in a specific variation of conventional ‘warrior/recovery’ iconography on sixthcentury Athenian vases, often in conjunction with other images from the Trojan War.112 The study of narrative in ancient Greek art presents its own methodological considerations, however, quite apart from the possible interaction between art and text.113 One may speak broadly of two contrasting scholarly approaches to the matter, one emphasizing the differences between visual and literary narrative, the other depending on analogies or similiarities between them. The latter approach has been taken by Mark Stansbury-O’Donnell (1999) who employs (literary) semiotic theory to interpret visual narrative, applying Roland Barthes’s delineation of the four essential components (‘functions’) of narrative (‘nuclei’, catalysts, indices, and informants).114 Ann Steiner (2007) also draws a connection between literary and visual narrative, using the analogy of ‘reading texts’ for

112  Esp. Ghali-Kahil (1957); Kahil and Icard (1988); Anderson (1997). 113  For an overview, cf. Stansbury-O’Donnell (1999) 1–8. 114  Stansbury-O’Donnell (1999) 13–17.

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22  Menelaus in the Archaic Period analysing the construction of narrative on Greek vases. Her focus is on the repetition of typical or conventional pictorial elements. By contrast, Giuliani (2013 [2003]) adapts the methodology of Gotthold Lessing to use linguistic narrative as a foil for understanding how pictorial narrative ‘is confronted with specific difficulties that require specific solutions’.115 Giuliani distinguishes between ‘descriptive’ and ‘narrative’ images but insists that, in the final analysis, ‘there is no such thing as a completely narrative image’. Even before narrative images relate to a story, they depend on a ‘descriptive reference to the world’.116 In practice, the interpretation of the conventional iconography of Menelaus and Helen on sixth-century Athenian vases is relatively uncontroversial. Regardless of the precise terminology employed, a basic iconographic scheme for the pair has been recognized since antiquity (cf. Paus. v. 18. 3). A greater interpretive challenge is posed by non-conventional images of Menelaus without Helen from the seventh and sixth centuries bc such as the ‘Euphorbos plate’ mentioned above. Here the methodologies outlined above become relevant for interpreting what story is told about Menelaus— if a story is told at all. These exceptional images fall outside the Athenian black-figure ‘norm’ and will be considered on a case-by-case basis (cf. Chap.  4). Proceeding from the consideration of the iconographic ‘norm’ (Menelaus and Helen) and its exceptions (Menelaus without Helen), the broader question of pos­sible interaction between the depiction of Menelaus in archaic art and texts then will be assessed. Alcman, in one of the earliest lyric fragments to survive from archaic Greece, tells of honoring Menelaus in cult at a shrine called Therapne (Alcm. fr. 19 Calame). Ancient literary testimony from the seventh century bc through the imperial period attest to the existence of this local Spartan cult at a shrine called the ‘Menelaion’. Chapter 5 presents material evidence for the cult whose site just outside Sparta was systematically excavated by British School archaeologists early and late in the twentieth century. Taken together, the literary testimonia and material evidence indicate that Menelaus and Helen were the heroes jointly worshipped at this site.117 Indeed the cult 115  Giuliani (2013) 1–18, with quotation at 4. 116  Giuliani (2013) 247. 117  Ekroth’s first requirement for classifying a figure as a ‘hero’ is that the person has ‘lived and died’ either in myth or real life ([2002] 20); or, more broadly, that ‘the person ended his life’, which is the status of Heracles (20 n. 25) and includes Menelaus (H. Od. 4. 561–2). Powell notes that, like Menelaus, other figures popular in archaic and classical Sparta (such as Helen, the Dioscuri, and Hyacinthus) also ‘combined strong Spartan connections with a hybrid existence on the religious plane: divine ancestry, earthly life and death, promotion to divine

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Introduction: Methods and Terms  23 of Helen and Menelaus at Sparta remains one of the best-attested and earliest hero cults yet known.118 Despite all this, one might reasonably wonder whether a meaningful relationship existed between this cult and the literary and visual character of Menelaus. Richard Martin (2016) provides a model for assessing the continuity of a mythological figure in ancient Greek art, cult, and text. Martin claims that just as the traditional diction of Homer potentially invoked, in each repetition of formula or phrase, ‘an entire world of meaning for its audience’, so too ‘must we “read” the poems as actively participating in social and cultural networks that formed the basis of Greek religion’. He uses this imperative to reconstruct what he calls the ‘divine personality’ of Poseidon.119 Martin’s study juxtaposes poetic and visual narratives with archaeological artefacts to reveal ‘gaps and overlaps’ between the fictional character and the recipient of real-world cult. Menelaus had, as I shall show, ‘an extra fictional existence’ analogous to that of Poseidon as described by Richard Martin. Like the Olympian gods sung by Homer Menelaus was enmeshed not only in the ‘myths [and] lore’ of the archaic period, but in its ‘rituals, beliefs and material practices’.120 My study engages words (the poetry) in the first instance as parallel to objects (the material artefacts).121 One might object that ‘juxtaposition’ does not necessarily reveal anything meaningful. Correspondences are not the same as correlation; ‘overlap’ is not the same as influence or even awareness. And, to return to the formulation of Penny Small, ‘parallel worlds’ do not intersect.122

existence hereafter’ (Powell [1998] 127). Menelaus fits the ‘hybrid’ pattern by virtue of his marriage to Helen; cf. Parker (2016) 3–4. 118  Cf. the Odysseion at Polis Bay (Waterhouse [1996]; Ratinaud-Lachkar [2000] 257–62); the cult of Heracles at Thebes (Aravantinos [2010] 152–3). Especially relevant is the sixth-century cult of Alexandra-Cassandra and Zeus-Agamemnon at Agia Paraskevi near Amyclae, having yielded distinctive votive plaques and a recently reported inscribed sherd (Sparta Mus. 14662; SEG 52–353; cf. Themos [1998] 173; Salapata [2014] esp. 13–21). At least one archaic inscription already was known from the site (LSAG2 447 [Lak. 21b.]; cf. Hall [1999] 57–8 with n. 61; Deoudi [1999] 123–4); cf. Paus. iii. 19. 6; Wide (1973 [1893]) 333–9. For the cult of Phrontis at Sounion, Antonaccio (1995) 166–9; Mazarakis Ainian (2004) 139 [no. 22]; TheodoropoulouPolychroniadis (2015); Paga and Miles (2016). For the Agamemnoneion near Mycenae (Chaos shrine), Cook (1953) 30–68; Deoudi (1999) 113; Hall (1999) 56–7; Pfaff (2013) 282. See also Ratinaud-Lachkar (2000) 254–7; Whitley (2001) 153; Mazarakis Ainian (2017) 102 with further bibliography. 119  Cf. Martin (2016) 76. 120  Martin (2016) 76. 121  Cf. Martin (2008) 335; emphasis in the original; for the method, cf.  Osborne (20092) 16; Hall (20142) 29. 122  Cf. Small (2003) esp. 155–9.

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24  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Inscriptions on vases and dedicated votives indicate, however, that for Menelaus (as with Poseidon) a ‘meaningful overlap’ did exist between the pan-Hellenic epic character and the recipient of hero cult from the seventh century on. The worship of Menelaus at Sparta is demonstrated not only by literary testimonia and tradition but by material evidence and inscriptions. A visitor to the shrine near Sparta known since antiquity as the ‘Menelaion’ inscribed Menelaus’ name on an Argive-type bronze aryballos in an epic/ Ionic dialectal form rather than in Doric Greek, as the fabric of the vase and context of its deposition might lead one to expect. The dialectal colouring of the inscription suggests that this recipient of cult was not simply ‘Menelaus’ but ‘(the epic) Menelaus’ (Μενέλᾱϝο[ς], Fig. 5.2). The story told by inscriptions on several early Greek vases seems to be the same (e.g., Fig. 4.11). These inscriptions and others to be discussed imply an ‘extra fictional’ existence enjoyed by the epic figure that was meaningful to artists and votaries in seventh-and sixth century Greece.123 The dialectal form employed on the little bronze vase, moreover, invites the suspicion that as regards Menelaus, like Poseidon in Richard Martin’s study, ‘the epics themselves, as they assumed their present form, also shaped the very conditions under which this god (among others) was worshipped and discussed’.124 Irad Malkin, in his (1994) study of the function of myths as cultural and ethnic mediators, describes Menelaus as critical to the formation of the Spartan mentalité in the archaic period.125 Malkin considers Menelaus a missing genealogical link between the (quasi-historical) Dorian Spartans and the epic/Homeric past. Malkin’s hypothesis is that the cult of Menelaus provided the political community of the Spartans with ‘a link with the last heroic king of that Sparta which all Spartans knew from Homer’.126 In light of the meaningful correspondence that I believe exists between the fictional figure of Menelaus and his existence in the real world of cult, Malkin’s hypothesis has obvious appeal. The primary object of my study is not, however, with archaic mentalités, nor with the thoughts of the artist—or poet, or votary. One certainly would not hope to prove ‘what he/she was thinking’ about Menelaus; but, as we shall see, the final text to be considered in this study does allow for an educated guess.127

123  Cf. Martin (2016) 76. 124  Martin (2016) 76. 125  Malkin (1994) 5–8; 46–9. 126  Malkin (1994) 26. 127  Cf. Giuliani (2013) 246 (‘The object of our inquiry is not the thoughts of the artist but the images on the cup’); Parker (2016) 14–15, 22–3.

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Introduction: Methods and Terms  25 Simonides’ Plataea elegy, composed at the end of the archaic period, indicates Menelaus’ importance in how Spartans chose to celebrate themselves and their community (Simon. fr. 11 W2). It is to this elegy therefore that we shall turn in the final chapter of the book (Chapter  6). Menelaus makes a brief but telling appearance in this text as a local Spartan hero, placed alongside the Dioscuri as protectors of the Spartan army. Simonides self-consciously alludes to Homer elsewhere in his historical, elegiac epic.128 Yet for Menelaus he chooses a novel, non-Homeric epithet ‘naming’ Menelaus as εὐρυβίη[ς] (‘wide-ruling’, Simon. fr. 11. 31 W2). As we shall see, Simonides ‘re-writes’ the Homeric ‘hypo-text’ and refigures Menelaus as ‘Spartan’. He provides the ‘end’ of the story of the archaic Menelaus. In Homer, we can see how it begins for Menelaus, a hero that is not quite the best of the Achaeans. 128  Cf. Rawls (2018) 77–106.

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1

The Iliad The Language of Menelaus Before discussing the first appearance of Menelaus in the Iliad, I wish to explore briefly how Homer uses traditional diction and rhetoric to delineate his character. Menelaus is among the most important heroes in the Iliad, mentioned by name or making an appearance in seventeen out of the twenty-four books.1 He plays a major role in at least five of these.2 Menelaus’ stature does not primarily depend, however, on the frequency of his appearances.3 Homer marks him as a distinct ‘personality’ in the first instance by the language and rhetoric of the poem. Menelaus turns out to be the most cared-for man in the Iliad not only by his fellow Achaeans but by the narrator.4 The scholia note Homer’s evident sympathy for Menelaus, observing that Menelaus is, like Patroclus, ἤπιος (‘kindly’).5 Menelaus expresses concern for the sufferings of others (Il. 2. 409; 3. 99–100); he takes pity on an enemy (6. 51–4) and swiftly comes to the aid of others, even at potential harm to himself (5. 561; 11. 462–88; 17, esp. 702–7). Menelaus yields to his friends, not out of weakness, but regard (6. 61–2; 10. 61–72; 23. 603–11). His ‘sympathetic’ personality arises from an acute awareness of his own responsibility for the Trojan War.6 1  Menelaus is mentioned in Iliad Books 1, 8, 9; present in the narrative in Books 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 10, 11, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 23). Since the book-divisions are late, the number of books in which any character appears is not a precise measure of importance although it does give a rough idea of the frequency and distribution of a character’s participation in the narrative (Achilles notwithstanding, for obvious reasons). 2  Il. 3, 4, 13, 17, 23. 3  Cf. Telamonian Ajax (appearing in nineteen books); Nestor (seventeen). 4  Cf. Whitman (1958) 232. 5  ΣbT 17.1, echoed by Zanker (1994) 1; cf. Hohendahl-Zoetelief (1980) 143–83 (Menelaus’ speech as representative of the poet’s own viewpoint); Willcock (2002) 224 (Menelaus is ‘simpatico’); cf. (1983) 481; A. Parry (1989 [1972]) 319. Sympathetic readings also include Richardson (1980) 268–9 (citing the Homeric scholia); Edwards (1991) 62, 65; Taplin (1992) 192; Richardson (1993) 234; Janko (1994) 122–3; Minchin (2011) 337; contrast van Wijnpersse (1966). 6  ‘[S]’il est plein de bonne volonté, c’est avant tout parce qu’il a conscience que la guerre se livre à cause de lui’, Robert (1950) 237; cf. A. Parry (1989) 318; Taplin (1990) 67; Scodel (2008) 46. Menelaus in the Archaic Period: Not Quite the Best of the Achaeans. Anna R. Stelow, Oxford University Press (2020). © Anna R. Stelow. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780199685929.001.0001

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30  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Homer portrays this special trait of Menelaus’ character, his sympathy (both given and received), through repeated actions and marked language. The poet shapes Menelaus’ identity through traditional verse-elements such as epithets and formulae, corresponding to the repetition of his actions in type-scenes and motifs.7 Menelaus’ ‘language’, unlike that of Achilles, is not itself particularly distinctive.8 But his rhetoric often is. Menelaus’ speeches overall demonstrate a characteristic penchant for heightened speech: gen­er­al­ iza­ tions, sententiae, proverbs, and the like. The narrator, meanwhile, employs rhetorical figures such as apostrophes, similes, ‘if not’ constructions, monologues, and direct quotations for Menelaus with uncommon frequency and care. For example, the narrator ‘speaks to’ Menelaus (the narratorial apostrophe) more often than almost any other character and adapts a number of exceptional similes for him alone.9 Homer fashions Menelaus as a memorable and unique character within the traditional diction (including his name, epithets, and formulae) and rhetoric (narratorial apostrophes, similes, monologues, and ‘if not’ situations) of his craft.10 Even Homeric hapaxes, seemingly created ad hoc at key moments in the narrative, play a role in Homer’s portrayal of Menelaus. Each of these will be briefly discussed in turn. Menelaus’ name can be—and is—accommodated in almost any position of the dactylic verse.11 The name Μενέλαος is a familiar proper-name type in early Greek epic. The most likely der­iv­ation of the name is the combination of a verbal first element from the

7  The oral poet’s construction of type-scenes out of repeated elements is analogous at the level of narrative to the construction of individual hexameter verses from an inherited body of formulae, cf. M. Parry (1971) 404–7; Arend (1933); Fenik (1968) 4–7. For an integration of oral and neoanalytic approaches, Burgess (2001); Currie (2012) 543–9; Tsagalis (2012a); Foley† and Arft (2015). 8  But cf. Kirk (1985) 276–7 (distinctive elements in Menelaus’ impassioned speech, Il. 3. 97–110); Krieter-Spiro (2009) BK III. 2: 45. Martin (1989) omits Menelaus in his discussion of the speech-styles of major heroes including Agamemnon and Nestor (but cf. 96 with n. 19); Beck (2012) 28–30. 9  Cf. Fenik (1968) 161. 10  On the etymology of Menelaus’ name, esp. von Kämptz (1982); Mühlestein (1987); Kanavou (2015). On Menelaus’ epithets, Yamagata (1989) 95–8, (2012b) 452; Willcock (2002), (2004); on narratorial apostrophes for Menelaus, A. Parry (1989) 310–24; Kahane (1994) 104–13 (proper name vocative); Mackay (2001) 8–14; de Jong (2009) 93–7; on Menelaus’ similes, Fenik (1968) 161 et passim; on Menelaus’ monologues, Fenik (1978) 85–9; on ‘if not’ clauses applied to Menelaus, Lang (1989) esp. 9–10; de Jong (20042) 68–81; on Menelaus’ use of direct quotation, Beck (2008), (2012). 11  Exceptions include the first foot, owing to the cretic formed by the first two syllables; and the beginning of the fifth colon (contrast the dative and accusative forms of the name Diomedes).

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The Iliad  31 thematic present stem μεν-12 with the nominal second element λαός.13 Menelaus is one who ‘stands fast against the enemy host’.14 As Kanavou comments, ‘[t]he Iliadic Menelaus does credit to his name’.15 A robust epithet system expresses Menelaus in the traditional epic ­diction.16 What is most important for understanding the story Homer has to tell about Menelaus is, first, that the system of epithets for Menelaus displays the same scope and economy demonstrated by Milman Parry for other major Homeric heroes.17 What Parry failed to mention, however, is that Menelaus—like Achilles—possesses at least one ‘distinctive’ epithet. Menelaus is almost alone among the named heroes in Homer to receive the epithet ἀρηΐφιλος.18 In formular terms, he is defined as ‘dear to Ares’.19 Menelaus is, moreover, frequently (though not distinctively) named by the related epithet ἀρήϊος, ‘warlike’. As mentioned in the Introduction, Willcock hypothesized that ἀρηΐφιλος and related martial epithets were retained by the Iliad-poet even though they were ‘no longer apposite’.20 Willcock’s view is that Homer has refigured the tradition in his portrayal of Menelaus. But in fact Homer takes pains to demonstrate Menelaus’ readiness to join battle even in an unequal fight. What is true is that Menelaus and the others worry about his martial prowess.21 Menelaus’ distinctive epithet ἀρηΐφιλος indeed is neither ignored nor falsified; it is problematized. The poet uses the language of the poem to pose the question ‘is Menelaus a fine warrior’—and answer it—over the course of the poem. Several other epithets appearing frequently (but not distinctively) of Menelaus are used consistently by Homer for the portrayal of character.22 12  μένω is an especially productive source of compound names and epithets deriving from an Indo-European root (e.g. Menoitios; Meneptolemos); Chantraine II: 686; Beekes II: 931–2. 13 See LfgrE 15: 127; cf. von Kamptz (1982[1956]) 60–2, 209 [‘der den feindlichen Mannen standhält’]); Heubeck (1968) 360; Barck (1971) 8. The meaning of Menelaus’ name is nearly synonomous with that of Agamemnon, Mühlestein (1987) 54 with n. 26; cf. Nagy (19992) 70. 14  Cf. Barck (1971) 8. 15  Kanavou (2015) 47. 16  M. Parry (1971) did not isolate distinctive epithets of Menelaus; helpful discussions may be found at Yamagata (1989), (2012b); Willcock (2002), (2004). 17  Cf. Parry (1971) 39, table 1. On Diomedes’ epithets, cf. Yamagata (1989) 100, (2012b) 450–1. 18  Cf. Krieter-Spiro (2009) BK III. 2: 22. In the singular, ἀρηΐφιλος nearly always modifies Menelaus; the exceptions are Meleager (Il. 9. 550) and the otherwise obscure hero Lycomedes (Il. 17. 346, perhaps so-named due to the predominance of Menelaus in the narrative context); the adjectival form occurs once, referring to Achilles, at Il. 2. 778; cf. Kelly (2007) 228–9 with n. 8. 19  Cf. Willcock (2004) 52–3; LfgrE 7: 1240–1, s.v.; Krieter-Spiro (2009) BK III. 2: 22. 20  Willcock (2004) 53. On the relation of epithets and character-portrayal in Homer, see further Yamagata (2012b) esp. 466–8. 21 Cf. Il. 4. 153–82, 210–14; 5. 565–7; 7. 104–6, 109–19; 10. 240; 17. 26–7. 22  Cf. Yamagata (2012b) 452.

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32  Menelaus in the Archaic Period βοὴν ἀγαθός, for example, provides a thrifty metrical alternative to ἀρηΐφιλος. It appears frequently of Diomedes, as well, whose name scans alike. Though the epithet is therefore ‘generic’, it can still display particular situational resonance.23 Another interesting example is the epithet ξανθός, used preferentially but not exclusively of Menelaus, always in verse-final position.24 Though not the only character in Homer to receive the epithet ξανθός, Menelaus is the only Achaean to be so called. Only a handful of other figures, including Meleager and Rhadamanthys, receive the epithet.25 ‘[W]ith only a few exceptional applications . . . the epithet ξανθός is reserved for Menelaus . . . . the image of the fair Menelaus persists in our memory throughout both epics.’26 In Hesiodic epic Menelaus is ξανθός as well; but in lyric poetry the epithet becomes increasingly common of Helen.27 In early Greek epic ξανθός denotes light colour, to be sure (though the etymology is not secure).28 It seems to have been a personal name in Mycenaean Greek.29 Nagy plausibly suggests that ξανθός once connoted immortality. Achilles’ immortal horse bearing the name enjoys the gift of prophecy (Il. 19. 408–17); the Cretan Rhadamanthys, also ξανθός, resides forever in the paradisial Elysium (Od. 4. 563–5).30 If Nagy is correct, Homeric ξανθός might preserve the resonance of a traditional notion that Menelaus was immortal—as he is prophesied to become in the Odyssey (Od. 4. 561–2).31 The vocative epithet διοτρεφές is frequently though not uniquely applied to Menelaus in the Iliad.32 Considered together, the two epithets (ξανθός and διοτρεφές) contribute to Homer’s depiction of a character who enjoys a privileged relation to the gods. But in the Iliad the meaning of these seemingly positive epithets, like that of ἀρηΐφιλος, is problematized. Menelaus is one of the few heroes

23  Cf. Brügger et al. (2010)2 BK II. 2: 122; cf. the discussions of Willcock (2004); GraziosiHaubold (2005) 58, 147; Dué and Ebbott (2010) 301–5; Krieter-Spiro (2009) BK III. 2:45. 24  ξανθός bridges the bucolic caesura and allows the poet to insert short-vowel words after the caesura, a tribrach after the hephthimimeral caesura (e.g. | ἅμα δὲ ξανθὸς Μενέλαος [Il. 17. 124]) or a pyrrhic after the feminine caesura (e.g. ὣς ἀπὸ Πατρόκλοιο | κίε ξανθὸς Μενέλαος [Il. 17. 113]); cf. Yamagata (2012b) 446–8. 25  Cf. Yamagata (1989) 100, (2012b). 26  Yamagata (1989) 100. On Greek colour terminology, cf. Irwin (1974); Bradley (2013). 27  [Hes.] frr. 176. 7, 204. 41; cf. Sapph. fr. 23. 5V; Stesich. fr. 112. 5D–F; Ibyc. S151.5 PMGF [= PMG 282.5]; Davies and Finglass (2014) 226, 442. 28  Chantraine II: 763–4; Beekes II: 1033. 29 Cf. LfgrE 16: 457 s.v. 30  Nagy (19992) §50 n. 2 (209–10). 31  Not necessarily to be traced to an Indo-European prototype; pace Clader (1976) 51 n. 31; Rozokoki (2011) 37–40; cf. Rousseau (1990) 351–2 with n. 38. 32  For Menelaus’ ‘dearness to the gods’ compared with the notion in Near Eastern literature, West (1997) 130–2; Krieter-Spiro (2009) BK III. 2: 22.

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The Iliad  33 that cannot die if the Trojan War is not to be fought in vain,33 a ‘given’ of the Trojan War story that lends special horror to the shot of Pandarus in Book 4 and piquancy to Menelaus’ several other near-death encounters. Pucci has explored the unstable, ironic, and even perverse behaviour of the gods in the Iliad. Their machinations make mockery of Menelaus’ duel with Paris, and they engineer the violation of the truce.34 Yet, in spite of his complaints against Zeus, Menelaus remains his chief apologist.35 We shall return to this matter as it arises in the course of the poem. Here, it is important to notice that the ironic interplay between Menelaus’ epithets and his Iliadic portrayal mirrors the larger narrative contradictions in which he is is placed. In the Odyssey, by contrast, the poet confirms the favour implied by the epithet διοτρεφές (which appears almost exclusively of Menelaus).36 The patronymic Ἀτρείδης is used of Menelaus in both the Iliad and the Odyssey.37 He shares it with (or rather borrows it from) his brother Agamemnon, of whom it appears far more frequently.38 The compound formula Ἀτρέος υἱός is also shared by the brothers.39 The two brothers are referred to as a pair in the dual (Ἀτρείδα) and the plural (Ἀτρείδη/Ἀτρεῖδαι).40 Ἀτρείδης does not, therefore, convey the ‘essential idea’ of Menelaus in epic diction. Indeed, in the Iliad the metrical and poetic preference of Ἀτρείδης for Agamemnon reflects the different status of the two brothers. Agamemnon is pre-eminently the leader of the campaign, ἄναξ, and his lineage from Atreus matters for the role (cf. Il. 2. 100–8). Broadly speaking, ἄναξ ἀνδρῶν reveals who Agamemnon was, and Menelaus was not, in archaic—as against classical—poetry.41 From Homer onward, accordingly, Agamemnon is more often identified as Ἀτρείδης—and by extension, is associated with his kin, the Pelopids—than Menelaus. Menelaus’ most frequent epithets, by contrast, describe personal qualities (ἀρηΐφιλος, βοὴν ἀγαθός, ξανθός). While

33  e.g. Lang (1989) 10; A. Parry (1989) 318. 34  Cf. Pucci (2018) 201–31. 35  Cf. the discussion of Pucci (2018) 209 n. 25 with further bibliography on the justice of Zeus. 36  Cf. Pucci (2018) 150–2 on theological differences between the poems. 37  I follow the orthography of West for the patronymic (Ἀτρείδης); cf. West Il. xiii–xiv. 38  Cf. Higbie (1995) 44–7, 63 n. 8. 39  Cf. Parry (1971) 74–5; on the formations, Rau (2008) esp. 182–7, with 187 n. 50. 40  Latacz et al. (2010) BK I. 2: 22, 30–1. 41  Menelaus receives Agamemnon’s distinctive epithet on one exceptional occasion: a direct address by Antilochus with pointedly conciliatory tone: ἄνσχεο νῦν· πολλὸν γὰρ ἐγώ γε νεώτερός εἰμι / σεῖο, ἄναξ Μενέλαε, σὺ δὲ πρότερος καὶ ἀρείων (Il. 23. 586–7). Homer here seems deliberately to play on the traditional referentiality of the epithet ἄναξ to portray character and tone. Cf. Yamagata (1997) 2–3, 9–10.

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34  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Agamemnon possesses the sceptre of Pelops (Il. 2. 101) the Pelopid stemma is less important for Menelaus. Subsequent archaic poets and artists, like the devotees of Menelaus at his cult in Sparta, highlight Menelaus’ relationship to Helen and her family. Yet in the Iliad, the interrelationship of the two brothers is a major theme. The treatment of Menelaus’ epithets and formulae in the Iliad, in short, does more than demonstrate the truism that Homer uses traditional language with care.42 Homer tells a story about Menelaus, even as he does about Achilles. One element in how he does so is through an ironical use of the language he employs. The epithets’ traditional referentiality may be played off against the character-text and situational context in which the epithets occur.43 Homer chooses unique lexical formulations for Menelaus at two im­port­ ant points in his story, both uttered by Trojan partisans (Antenor and Apollo). In Menelaus’ first appearance on the battlefield, in the duel against Paris, Antenor praises Menelaus as ‘unerring’ in speech, οὐδ’ ἀφαμαρτοεπής (Il. 3. 215). Later, in Menelaus’ greatest battlefield appearance defending the corpse of Patroclus, Apollo reminds Hector that Menelaus was considered ‘soft’ (μαλθακός 17. 588). These unique formulations will be discussed further in the context of the episodes in which they occur. The poet places the novel expressions at key moments for character portrayal. In the first instance Menelaus’ speech, even set against that of Odysseus, elicits praise from the Trojan diplomat as ‘unerring’. In the second, Apollo denigrates Menelaus to Hector precisely because Menelaus has filled him with terror (cf. 585–90).44 Homer also adapts traditional rhetorical figures, especially apostrophes and similes, in the portrayal of Menelaus. The preferential use of the narratorial address for Menelaus (using the vocative Μενέλαε) has been remarked since antiquity.45 Adam Parry persuasively demonstrated that Homer uses the rhetorical figure to delineate the character and ethos of Menelaus and his other ‘sympathetic’ figures, Patroclus and Eumaeus.46 Kirk defines the narratorial address as ‘an emphatic and pathetic device’.47 Subsequent work on the narratorial apostrophe confirms Homer’s preferential use of it for 42  Cf. esp. A. Parry (1989). 43  Cf. Yamagata (1989) 98–101. 44  Cf. Dover (1980) 82. 45  ΣbT ad Il. 4. 127a; Eustath. 453, 11; 1086, 49; 1750, 29. 46  See A. Parry (1989) esp. 314–21; cf. Kahane (1997) 260. 47  Kirk (1985) 343; cf. Block (1982), comparing its use in Virgil, ‘the narrator articulates and thereby encourages the audience’s sympathy’ for the character addressed (17). Other the­or­­etic­al approaches to the phenomenon include oral-formulaic (Kahane [1994] 104–13); narratological (Mackay [2001]; de Jong [2009]); structural (Franchet-d’Esperey [2006]); bibliographical review in Kahane (1994) 153–5.

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The Iliad  35 Menelaus for whom it is less a device of metrical expediency than for the other recipients (Patroclus and Eumaeus).48 It might indeed first have been adapted for him.49 Homer uses the narratorial address, moreover, at significant moments in the Iliad—many of which involve Menelaus.50 Before turning to the similes, I shall discuss a particular syntactical clause type, the negative contrary-to-fact condition that marks a narrative element (the ‘if not’ situation, ‘Beinahe-episoden’).51 Because of its distinctive use for Menelaus it is worth taking a closer look at the rhetorical device and how it works in Homer.52 ‘If not’ situations specially mark the point at which they occur in the narrative, indicating a turning point in the plot, creating suspense or pathos, and underlining the authority of the narrator.53 The ‘if not’ situation also allows the Homeric narrator to distinguish his particular account from the tradition. It is consistent with what Lang found of the negative contrary-to-fact clause. The clause type is a means by which Homer can consider what might have happened if fate had not determined otherwise. Both situation type and clause type can be interpreted as self-reflexive tropes, in Currie’s terminology, signalling Homer’s allusion to the trad­ition.54 Menelaus is specially associated in the Iliad with contrary-to-fact clause types and ‘if not’ situations, in the view of Mabel Lang, because of his key function in the Trojan War. ‘Two important instances of the “if not” clauseand scene-type raise—and then reject—a fatal outcome that would change the outcome of the war.’55 In Menelaus’ duel with Paris, the narrator raises the ‘possibility of Paris’ impossible death’ at Menelaus’ hands: Menelaus would have killed Paris and dragged his corpse back to the Greek camp ‘if Aphrodite had not broken the strap of his helmet’ (Il. 3. 373–5).56

48 Homer uses the apostrophe for Patroclus and Eumaeus in more restricted contexts. Patroclus’ apostrophes occur only in Iliad 16; Eumaeus-apostrophes only in Odyssey 14; cf. A. Parry (1989) 324–5; Yamagata (1989) 96–7. Menelaus-apostrophes, by contrast, are distributed throughout the Iliad. 49 Matthews (1980) 94–6 proposes that Homer adapted the Menelaus-apostrophe for Patroclus and Eumaeus to accommodate their spondaic names in the verse (cf. Bonner [1905] 384). The only apostrophe in the Iliad to a minor character, Melanippos, seems to be patterned on a Menelaus-apostrophe (Il. 15. 582 ~ 23. 600) and occurs in a passage that centres on Menelaus (cf. Il. 15. 568–71); cf. Bonner (1905) 385; Matthews (1980) 98. 50  As Mackay (2001) comments, ‘[T]he apostrophes occur at what may be termed crisis points in and for the narrative’ (10); cf. de Jong (2009) 96. 51  Lang (1989); Nesselrath (1992) 5–38; cf. Bassett (1938) 100–2; Kullmann (1956) 42–8; Fenik (1968) 153–4; Scodel (2002) 68–9. 52  See Lang (1989) 9–10. 53  Cf. de Jong (20042) 68–81 (with further bibliography at xvii–xviii, 69). 54  Cf. Nesselrath (1992) 27. 55  Lang (1989) 10; cf. Nesselrath (1992) 16–17. 56  Cf. Morrison (1992) 59–60.

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36  Menelaus in the Archaic Period The foregoing rhetorical figures distinguish Menelaus in the speech of the narrator or other characters. Two devices mark Menelaus’ own speech in the Iliad, as well: the monologue and the direct quotation. Fenik has shown that true monologues (in which a character debates with himself before coming to a decision), though probably a traditional tool of the oral poet, are rare in the Iliad. At the climax of his story, Menelaus delivers one of only three true monologues in the poem (Il. 17. 91–105).57 The monologue invites the audience into his head, as it were, to hear what no other character does and—if we choose—to adopt his point of view.58 The moment at which it occurs, as Menelaus undertakes to engage the most important Trojan of the Iliad and to defend its most important corpse was, on the evidence of the east Greek ‘Euphorbos plate’, a memorable one from very early on. Deborah Beck has analysed character-quoted direct speech as a distinct and unified category rather than a subtype of direct speech or a distortion of narrator-quoted speech.59 Homer uses direct quotation as a means to delineate character.60 Menelaus is one of only six speakers on the Achaean side to employ direct quotation. Every other Achaean who uses the device follows the same general pattern, employing a ‘persuasive quotation’ to justify a proposed course of action by citing an outside authority. Menelaus, by contrast, cites himself as the authority on what is right (θέμις). The singular example of self-designated authority occurs at a critical moment, in the dénouement of Menelaus’ quarrel with Antilochus (Il. 23. 581). Menelaus’ authority, the poem implies, is the authority of one who enjoys the gods’ patronage—though the poem calls into question this same conviction time and again. The foregoing rhetorical devices ‘mark’ Menelaus out and allow the audience to more easily follow him and to interrogate the theme he represents (the Trojan War) over the course of the poem. The most important rhet­ oric­al device employed for Menelaus is the simile. It has often been remarked that two functions of the Homeric simile are to delineate character and mark especially exciting moments in the story.61 It is therefore of some 57  The Homeric monologue is among several traditional speech-types that include re­peat­ able component parts, including self-address, debate, decision (Fenik [1978]), and characterquoted direct speech (Beck [2008], [2012]). 58  Cf. Duckworth (1933) 20–3. 59  Beck (2008). 60  Cf. de Jong (20042) 149–50, 171–9. 61  Esp. Fenik (1968) 33; Fraenkel (1975) 404; Scott (1974), (2009); Moulton (1977); Ready (2011), (2012). The simile often evokes a world separate from the epic and closer to the audience (e.g. Bakker [2005] 114 with bibliography at n. 1). On special linguistic features of the simile, Shipp (19722) 212; on simile and depiction of character in Homer, esp. Moulton (1977).

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The Iliad  37 interest that Homer adapts distinctive similes more often for Menelaus than almost any other Achaean hero. Fenik, though no great admirer of Homer’s Menelaus, nevertheless considered him a special exception to the otherwise usually formulaic use of the device.62 Fenik comments that ‘at least six of the most unusual and memorable similes in the Iliad’ pertain to Menelaus.63 Homer uses such similes, occasionally in conjunction with narratorial apostrophe, to shine the spotlight on Menelaus at the key moments of his story, in Books 3–4, 17, and 23. Similes mark the most important episodes and Menelaus’ role within them. A brief overview here will prepare for closer consideration of these passages in their context. At his first major appearance in the Iliad a sequence of similes culminate in the comparison of Menelaus with a ravenous lion hunting its prey (3. 23–8). Menelaus is the first hero for whom the most frequent of Homeric simile-types (lion) is applied. The lengthy episode concludes with a pair of similes and an apostrophe by the narrator, expressing Menelaus’ precious value to the Greeks, dearness to the gods, and sympathy from the narrator (4. 127–47). Menelaus’ next major appearance, in Book 13, is also marked by a simile, one that is unique and memorable as it conjures Menelaus’ steadfastness in battle (13. 588–92). Book 17 contains the third major episode, and climax, of Menelaus’ story and is the turning point of the Iliad. It opens with a  piling-up of dictional and rhetorical features, including unique similes, a narratorial address, and other marked features of language. The heightened rhetoric persists throughout the episode and it closes, like the end of the first, with a pair of similes and a narratorial address (17. 657–66, 674–8). In Menelaus’ last appearance in the Iliad at the Funeral Games, similes and narratorial comments frame an episode in which Menelaus’ character—and his own mastery of heightened rhetoric—is on spectacular display (23. 517–611).

The Story of Menelaus The foregoing overview of Homer’s use of traditional features of language and rhetoric shows how Homer individuated Menelaus on the ‘microscopic’ level, i.e. through the basic linguistic and rhetorical elements of the oral 62  Cf. Fenik (1968) 183 ad Il. 17. 170–2: ‘Although the fly simile is remarkable and unparalleled, it is not surprising in Menelaus’ case since he is the subject of more unusual similes than anybody else.’ 63  Fenik (1968) 161.

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38  Menelaus in the Archaic Period poem. Certain prominent traits of Menelaus’ character in the Iliad—his sympathetic personality and important function to the Trojan War—have, as noted above, already been appreciated in previous scholarship. My interest is to provide is a close and consecutive analysis of the text to reveal how Homer has created a stable depiction of the figure through repeated words, actions, and relationships. I believe that an interesting and consistent story is told about Menelaus through intra- and intertextual allusion, even apart from his traditional function in the war. His story unfolds in the manner of a play, with Menelaus becoming especially prominent at four major narrative junctures that are highlighted by the marked rhetorical devices discussed above (Il. 3–4, 13, 17, 23). The narrative junctures can be conveniently referred to as ‘acts’ in which Menelaus takes ‘centre stage’.64 Achilles introduces Menelaus to the audience in Book 1, in a sort of prologue; and it is again Achilles who, in Iliad 23, discreetly closes the curtain on the dénouement of his play.65 The first ‘act’ of Menelaus’ story begins with a quotation of the beginning of the Trojan War in his duel with Paris; it culminates in the shot of Pandarus and its aftermath.66 The story then moves to the background, though Menelaus makes several important (‘entr’acte’) appearances. Menelaus takes centre stage a second time when, at the beginning of the ‘Great Day’ of battle, he asserts his position as the moral centre of the war (Iliad 13). The momentous speech of self-justification aligns the justice of the Greek assault on Troy—claiming Zeus as guarantor—with his own personal complaint. The climax of Menelaus’ story, its third ‘act’, involves his defence of Patroclus’ body. Menelaus dominates the narrative for nearly the entirety of the long Book 17. The book’s traditional title, the aristeia of Menelaus, reflects his place within an episode that is itself of supreme importance for the overall poem. Menelaus and Achilles are implicitly at odds for the first two-thirds of the Iliad. The harmonization of their themes—and the implicit reconciliation between the two men—occurs when Menelaus takes Achilles’ place defending the body of his beloved companion and challenging Hector. Menelaus’ story draws to a close with his withdrawal from the battlefield carrying the corpse of Patroclus toward Achilles’ ships. Menelaus’ final 64  An analogy suggested by the comments of Taplin (1992) on the experience of the Iliad as a performance (3–4). Compare the cinematic terminology to define narratorial perspective in de Jong and Nünlist (2004). 65  Taplin (1992) aptly describes the Funeral Games as the poem’s final ‘curtain’ (259). 66  Cf. A.  Parry (1989) 317–24; Lang (1995) 151–3; Mackay (2001) 9; cf. Reinhardt (1997 trans. [orig. pub. 1938]) 187–8.

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The Iliad  39 appearance at the Funeral Games bring his own story to a satisfying conclusion and allusively signals the conclusion of the poem. The reconciliation of Menelaus and Antilochus alludes intratextually to Achilles’ reconciliation with the Achaeans and their fight against Troy. Achilles’ rejection of the honour of the Atreidae as adequate justification for the war in Iliad 1 (152–60) is answered in Menelaus’ final speech in the poem (23. 602–11) as he yields to Antilochus and renounces his claim to the prize in recognition of all that has been suffered and done on his behalf. Intertextually, Achilles’ traditional relationship with Antilochus is reasserted; metapoetically, Homer signals the conclusion of his seeming-departure from the tradition over the fated course of the war.

Prologue and Entrance (Iliad 1–2) ‘Achilles and his wrath’ are programmatically advertised as the subject of the Iliad.67 This is, so to speak, why we—the singer and his audience—are here. But why is Achilles at Troy? He tells us in the justly famous speech to Agamemnon. οὐ γὰρ ἐγὼ Τρώων ἕνεκ’ ἤλυθον αἰχμητάων δεῦρο μαχησόμενος, ἐπεὶ οὔ τί μοι αἴτιοί εἰσιν· … ἀλλὰ σοί, ὦ μέγ’ ἀναιδές, ἅμ’ ἐσπόμεθ’, ὄφρα σὺ χαίρηις, τιμὴν ἀρνύμενοι Μενελάωι σοί τε, κυνῶπα, πρὸς Τρώων· τῶν οὔ τι μετατρέπε᾽ οὐδ’ ἀλεγίζεις· (1. 152–60) I did not come here to fight because of the spear-wielding Trojans, since to me they are not to blame . . . but we followed you, great shameless one, to please you, winning honour for Menelaus and for you, dog-face, against the Trojans; but you do not trouble yourself about any of this, nor do you care.

Over the course of the Iliad a variety of reasons are offered for the Trojan War. At the beginning of the poem, however, its most authoritative speaker 67  Cf. Aristotle’s assessment of Homer as most tragic of the epic poets for creating a simple plot (ἡ μὲν Ἰλιὰς ἁπλοῦν καὶ παθητικόν Arist. Po. 1459b) concerning a single part of the Trojan War story rather than the entire war itself (1459a); cf. Kirk (1985) 52; Rutherford (1996) 30; Danek (2002a) 165–70; West (2011) 55–68. Cf. Hughes (2005) 343, an obvious parti pris.

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40  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Achilles assigns responsibility to Menelaus or, more specifically, his τιμή.68 Achilles tells Agamemnon that the Achaeans have followed him to Troy in the first instance to defend the honour of Menelaus, τιμὴν ἀρνύμενοι Μενελάωι, and (secondarily) his own, σοί τε, κυνῶπα (158–9). As Rousseau comments, ‘Agamemnon exerce le pouvoir qui s’attache à la fonction royale mais . . . c’est Ménélas qui garantit la légitimité de la souveraineté collective des Atrides parmi les Achéens.’69 Taplin remarks that Agamemnon depends more on his brother than Menelaus does on him, ‘in so far as Agamemnon’s centrality in the poem is explained in the poem, it is because he is Menelaus’ elder brother’.70 Agamemnon agrees with his rival on the point, publicly affirming on several occasions that Menelaus is the reason for the war.71 According to Agamemnon, every last Trojan ought to perish for the wrong done to Menelaus in his own household (Il. 6. 55–60). If Menelaus should die the Achaean war effort would be undermined (7. 109–19) or abandoned outright (cf. 4. 169–82).72 The other Achaean leaders also consider Menelaus of central importance to the army and the war. They groan, en masse, when Pandarus takes a shot at him (4. 154). Machaon reports that Menelaus’ wounding brings ‘fame for [his assailant] but suffering for us’ (. . . τῶι μὲν κλέος, ἄμμι δὲ πένθος 4. 207). Even when Menelaus remains silent on the matter, both Nestor and Diomedes affirm the necessity of taking revenge on the Trojans (2. 354–6; 7. 398–402). Achilles does not just hold Menelaus responsible for his presence at Troy, however; he blames him for it.73 The Trojans are not ‘responsible’ for the war (152–3) and they are not (morally) to blame (. . . ἐπεὶ οὔ τί μοι αἴτιοί εἰσιν 153). By absolving the Trojans from responsibility Achilles implies that Menelaus and his brother are to blame (158–60).74 By contrast, while Menelaus affirms his ‘responsibility’ for the war (e.g. 3. 100), he considers the 68 For Achilles’ authority as speaker, Martin (1989) 139–41. For a reminiscence of the theme, A. Ag. 44 (τιμῆς ὀχυρὸν ζεῦγος Ἀτρειδᾶν). 69  Rousseau (1990) 339. 70  Taplin (1990) 67; cf. Latacz et al. (20103) 30–1. 71  Cf. Martin (1989) 60–1, 113–19; Sammons (2009a) 177. 72  See Sammons (2009a) 181–2. 73  Helen claims responsibility for the war, Il. 6. 355–6; Priam and others exonerate her and blame the gods (e.g. 3. 164); in any case, the intervention of the gods does not absolve a human being of responsibility (‘double motivation’); (Lesky [2002 (1961)]; Versnel [2011] 164 n. 30). On blame, responsibility, and compensation, Finkelberg (1995); Scodel (2008) esp. 107–12. 74  Cf. Taplin (1992) 98–9.

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The Iliad  41 Trojans very much to blame (13. 620–39).75 Achilles’ statement introduces an ethical rift between himself and Menelaus that could undermine the entire expedition if the other Achaeans should be persuaded to take Achilles’ side. The words of Achilles set the Iliad at odds with the traditional trajectory of the Trojan War in which the other Achaeans are ethically bound to aid Menelaus by the oath sworn to Tyndareus at the wooing of Helen.76 Adam Parry succinctly explains Menelaus’ role in the ethos of the Iliad: The moral basis of the plot is not the most important element in the poem that ends with Priam and Achilles lamenting together the bitterness of life . . . . Nevertheless [the Trojan War theme] is there, and Menelaus is for this element the central character. It is he who has been wronged, he who has most suffered. If things are to be made in any sense right, they must be made right for him.77 

Explicit mention of the oath of Tyndareus is significant by its absence.78 And when Homer evokes it in the swearing of oaths before the duel (3. 276–302), it may be argued, he undermines its theological meaning by making the gods the instigators of its violation (below pp. 59–62).79 Achilles’ explicit opposition to Agamemnon over the seizure of Briseis is mirrored by an implicit opposition to Menelaus in his repudiation of the war that is fought on his behalf. Like a hostile god at the beginning of an Athenian tragedy, Achilles delivers the prologue to Menelaus’ story before he withdraws to the ships to nurse his wrath, offstage. And indeed Menelaus and Achilles never will directly interact in the Iliad. As to the other Achaeans, their position regarding Menelaus is not merely that of formal obligation, implied in the oath of Tyndareus, but anxious concern for his person.

75  Achilles’ statement that the Trojans are innocent of any blame toward him emphasizes the contrast between himself and Menelaus, who repeatedly insists (most emphatically in Book 13) that he has been personally outraged by the Trojans. Agamemnon alludes to the Trojans’ offence against Menelaus in Book 6 when he sarcastically asks Menelaus whether the Trojans have treated him well (. . . ἦ σοὶ ἄριστα πεποίηται κατὰ οἶκον / πρὸς Τρώων 6. 56–7). 76  Cf. [Hes.] fr. 204. 78–85; Stesich. fr. 87 D–F (PMG 190). Achilles is exempt from the obligation because he was not among the original suitors of Helen, cf. [Hes.] fr. 204. 87–92. 77  A. Parry (1989) 318. 78  It is notable that Homer makes so little of the oath, even allowing for potential allusions (cf. Il. 2. 286–8; 4. 266–70); pace Kirk (1985) 146. 79  Pucci (2018) 221–31.

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42  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Menelaus first appears ‘onstage’ at the banquet in Book 2 given by Agamemnon, a narrative roll-call of sorts illustrative of ‘the “pecking order” of the leading heroes’ (κίκλησκεν δὲ γέροντας ἀριστῆας Παναχαιῶν Il. 2. 404).80 Nestor and Idomeneus are named first; then the Aiantes and Diomedes, with clever Odysseus named last (404–7). Menelaus attends unbidden and remains apparently unnoticed; nobody addresses him and he is promptly forgotten in the subsequent narrative. But for the audience Menelaus’ entrance is memorable. His arrival receives two verses (as against Odysseus’ one) and, out of all the guests, only Menelaus’ focalization is revealed. αὐτόματος δέ οἱ ἦλθε βοὴν ἀγαθὸς Μενέλαος, εἴδεε γὰρ κατὰ θυμὸν ἀδελφεὸν ὡς ἐπονεῖτο. (2. 408–9) Menelaus good at the war cry came to him unbidden, for in his heart he knew his brother, how he toiled. Menelaus came to the sacrifice of his own accord, ‘without need for summons’ (408).81 The narrator implies that Menelaus has an intuitive understanding of the situation facing his brother. That we have Menelaus’ point of view is plain while the specific object of Agamemnon’s effort is left unstated.82 This privileged insight into Menelaus’ consciousness and intentionality will be provided by the narrator again and again over the course of the poem.

Yet as a first introduction of Menelaus the passage has been considered jarring.83 West defends its logic, remarking that ‘[i]t would have been odd to make Agamemnon invite his brother and partner in the enterprise’.84 Perhaps so, but to mention the absence of the invitation arguably is odder still. It might even seem that ‘Menelaus does not belong to Agamemnon’s

80 Taplin (1992) 91; the respective ship-numbers and their placement in the Catalogue mostly confirm the ordering of the group; cf. Yamagata (2003) 34–5, 42–3; Clay (2011) 117, cf. http://www.homerstrojantheater.org (for a map of the Greek camp). 81  Taplin’s felicitous gloss ([1992] 91). 82  See Brügger et al. (20102) BK II. 2. ὡς ἐπονεῖτο might either have a concrete reference, ‘wie er sich (für ihn, Menelaos) abmühte’; or a more general one, to the present situation: ‘wie er sich mühte, wie beschäftigt er war’ (123). It is unnecessary to conclude with Martin (1989) 63 that Menelaus’ unprompted action signals rhetorical ineffectiveness on the part of Agamemnon. 83  Il. 2. 409 has for this reason been suspected since antiquity (Ath. 5. 177e–f, citing Demetrius of Phalerum = fr. 190 Wehrli). The line is condemned by e.g. Erbse (ad 405–9)—cf. Kirk (1985) 158 (‘slightly awkward in expression’); Taplin (1992) 91 n. 18—but there is no MSS basis to doubt its authenticity and it is retained by West Il.; cf. Brügger et al. (20102) BK II. 2: 123; West (2011) 110. 84  West (2011) 110.

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The Iliad  43 inner circle of γέροντες’.85 But this is not the case when the war resumes in earnest in Book 5. Menelaus fights alongside the leading Achaeans and is one of the first to slay a Trojan, following only Agamemnon and Idomeneus (Il. 5. 38–51).86 Menelaus’ pre-eminent position among the Achaeans is never called into question, though his ability to fulfil the role, perhaps, is.87 Plato alludes to the passage in the Symposium (Pl. Smp. 174b–c).88 He claims that since Agamemnon was an exceptionally good man (at least as regards war) whereas his brother was ‘soft’ (here Plato quotes Apollo’s insult in Book 17 [μαλθακός, Il. 17. 588]), in Menelaus’ unbidden arrival at the banquet of his brother Homer made the ‘worse’ of the Atreidae the guest of the better (ἄκλητον ἐποίησεν ἐλθόντα τὸν Μενέλεων ἐπὶ τὴν θοίνην, χείρω ὄντα ἐπὶ τὴν τοῦ ἀμείμονος 174c).89 We shall return to the insult of Menelaus as ‘soft’ (μαλθακός) in its context in Book 17 below (p. 98). Here it is sufficient to note the ambivalence of the quotation. In spite of his pretended scorn, Socrates casts his friend Aristodemus in the role of Menelaus and encourages him to attend Agathon’s banquet though he has not been invited.90 Menelaus’ status among the Achaeans is, from his first appearance, as one set apart.91 Menelaus is marked out from the other Achaeans and even from Agamemnon not in opposition to his brother, but in sympathy (409). The detail is of a piece with Menelaus’ kindliness, one of the ‘gentler’ but authentic Homeric values.92 In the Catalogue of Ships Menelaus is sole leader of the Laconian contingent which includes sixty ships, nine place-names, and one toponym.93 οἳ δ᾽ εἶχον κοίλην Λακεδαίμονα κητώεσσαν … τῶν οἱ ἀδελφεὸς ἦρχε, βοὴν ἀγαθὸς Μενέλαος, ἑξήκοντα νεῶν· ἀπάτερθε δὲ θωρήσσοντο, ἐν δ᾽ αὐτὸς κίεν ἧισι προθυμίηισι πεποιθώς, 85  Sammons (2014) 3; cf. Scodel (2002) 99–110. 86  Menelaus is in the first rank of Achaean warriors; cf. Fenik (1968) 150; Kirk (1985) 57. 87  Cf. Barck (1971) 9–11; Brügger et al. (20102) BK II. 2: 190; Sammons (2014) 3 n. 2. 88  Cf. Halliwell (2000) 96. Athenaeaus, in turn, used Menelaus’ depiction in the Odyssey to criticize Plato’s Symposium (cf. Athen. 5. 185a–192b). 89  Plato would seem to take Apollo’s rebuke at face value, though the highly clever and riddling nature of the allusion should invite caution; Dover (1980) 82; Yamagata (2012a) 132; cf. Sammons (2014) 16–17. 90  Rowe (1998) 131. 91  Cf. Menelaus’ delayed appearance in Book 6 (37ff.). 92  Taplin (1992) 192, cf. 6–7; cf. Zanker (1994) 1, 4–6, 40–1; Brügger et al. (20102) BK II. 2: 123. 93  Cf. Kirk (1985) 168–95; Visser (1997) 479–82; 499–502; Latacz et al. (2000) 30–1; Brügger et al. (20102) BK II. 2: 187–90; Sammons (2010) 176–7.

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44  Menelaus in the Archaic Period ὀτρύνων πόλεμόνδε· μάλιστα δὲ ἵετο θυμῶι τείσασθαι Ἑλένης ὁρμήματά τε στοναχάς τε. (Il. 2. 581–90) And they that held hollow Lacedaemon steep with ravines . . . his brother led these men, Menelaus good at the war-cry, with sixty ships. But they mustered apart [from Agamemnon], and confident in his own valour, he went among them and spurred them on to war. For he was very eager in his heart to avenge the sighing and groans of Helen.

Menelaus’ ship number places him in the first tier of Achaean leaders following Agamemnon (one hundred ships), Nestor (ninety), and Diomedes and Idomeneus (eighty ships apiece).94 The entry is a clearly delineated geographic region, comprising settlements bounded by Taygetus on the west and Parnon on the east. The very inclusion of a toponym (‘Lacedaemon’) distinguishes Menelaus’ entry from the others and probably dates to the Late Bronze Age (with or without its formula, κοίλην . . . κητώεσσαν 581).95 Menelaus’ entry, though a political and notional unity unto itself, syntactically is linked to that of his brother Agamemnon, which precedes it (2. 569–80).96 The list of Menelaus’ cities (581–5) follows directly upon the ones controlled by Agamemnon (569–75) and the narrator would seem to expect the audience to keep Agamemnon in mind throughout. When Menelaus is revealed as commander of the Laconian contingents (586), he is referred to as ‘his’ brother (τῶν οἱ ἀδελφεὸς ἦρχε |). The cross-reference is unusual,97 with proper name and epithet appearing after the caesura (| βοὴν ἀγαθὸς Μενέλαος 586).98 But as if to forestall or even correct an assumption 94  Ship number often reflects rank-order in the poem, though not always (cf. the twelve ships of Telamonian Ajax and Odysseus); Sammons (2010) 168–74. Odysseus’ ‘special’ status might be implied by the order of appearance at the banquet; though he comes last (before Menelaus) he receives a full verse (407); Taplin (1992) 91. 95  Cf. the Mycenaean ethnic ‘Lakedaimonion’ (TH Fq 229.4); the formula is repeated in the Odyssey (Od. 4. 1). κοίλην is often used otherwise of roads and the like; for the etymologically uncertain κητώεσσαν (‘with deep ravines’, ‘schluchten-, klüftereich’), Brügger et al. (20102) BK II. 2:188; S. West (1988) 193; Mader (1991) LfgrE 14: 1414 s.v. Cf. S. P. Morris (1984a) interpreting the possible contradiction between the apparent meaning of the epithet (‘full of sea-monsters’) and classical-period Laconian geography as reflective of a ‘Bronze-Age, maritime Lakedaimon’ (11). 96  Brügger et al. (20102) BK II. 2: 188. 97  Cf. Sammons (2010) 176;  Brügger et al. (20102) BK II. 2: 189 ad 586–7 (‘[s]trukturell untypisch’). Nothing in the verses proves that the Atreidae rule jointly in Lacedaemon (pace Kullmann [2009] 6) or even military dependence (pace Sammons [2010] n. 133). 98 The verse-final placement of Menelaus’ name is not unusual for the Catalogue (cf. Agamemnon, τῶν ἑκατὸν νηῶν ἦρχε κρείων Ἀγαμέμνων 576).

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The Iliad  45 of dependence the narrator insists that Menelaus’ contingents are not subject to Agamemnon. The narrator makes it a point to mention that the Laconians were armed apart from Agamemnon, i.e. by their own leader, Menelaus (ἀπάτερθε δὲ θωρήσσοντο 587).99 The narrator concludes the entry with an allusion to the Trojan War (2. 589) quoting a traditional verse-formula of retribution (590) but framing it from Menelaus’ perspective (588–9). Menelaus went off to Troy confident in his valour (588–9). It is not necessarily ‘overconfidence’, as some have thought.100 The context implies instead an emphasis on Menelaus’ independence from Agamemnon; he sets out on his (ἧισι 588), not his brother’s, instance; αὐτόματος, as it were (cf. 408).101 Menelaus’ reason for going to war follows (590). The occurrence of the Helen-verse (590) in an earlier speech of Nestor (2. 356) suggests that it is a quotation of a traditional verse formula, the ‘official’ line taken by the Achaean army.102 Nestor’s use of the motif will be discussed presently; here, it is of note that out of the forty-six Achaean leaders mentioned in the Catalogue only Menelaus’ reason for sailing is reported: he is anxious over Helen.103 We are reminded of the decision to attend Agamemnon’s banquet due to his awareness of how his brother toiled.104 Menelaus’ focalization is embedded in the adverb (μάλιστα δὲ ἵετο 2. 589) and implied in the metonymic formula ‘sighing and groans of Helen’ (Ἑλένης ὁρμήματά τε στοναχάς τε 590).105 But Menelaus is, for obvious reasons, the Achaean ‘most eager’ to go (589). The narrator does not need to report why the ­others went to Troy. Menelaus’ decision implicates everyone else, except Achilles ([Hes.] fr. 204. 87–92). Homer’s allusion to Menelaus’ desire for Helen as the cause of the Trojan War and quotation of the formula of retribution prepares for a radical refiguring of the tradition over the course of the poem. Menelaus only mentions Helen once in the Iliad, much later on, inveighing against the Trojans and calling for revenge (13. 626–7, below). The overall emphasis in 99  Cf. Sammons (2010) 176. 100  Cf.  Brügger et al. (20102), with Eustathius, taking προθυμίηισι πεποιθώς to imply that Menelaus’ confidence (or over-confidence), outstrips his mettle (BK II. 2: 190). 101  Cf. Latacz et al. (20103) BK I. 2: 30–1. 102  Cf. Reichel (2002) 169–70; Scodel (2002) 112; Brügger et al. (20102) BK II. 2: 108. 103  Brügger et al. (20102) comment that this unique instance of embedded focalization indicates the poet’s special interest in Menelaus (BK II. 2: 190); cf. Fenik (1978) 85–9. 104  Brügger et al. (20102) BK II. 2: 108. 105 On the objective vs subjective genitive, see Kirk (1985) 153; the objective genitive accords more generally with Menelaus’ and the other Achaeans’ unconcern over Helen per se; cf. Brügger et al. (20102) BK II 2: 107 ad 356.

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46  Menelaus in the Archaic Period that speech, moreover, is on retribution for the abuse of his hospitality and loss of property (Helen along with the rest). Menelaus certainly evinces no affection for his wife. Only Achilles, in fact, suggests that love has anything to do with the Trojan War, and the remark says more about him than about Menelaus.106 Menelaus’ repeated claims of his responsibility, along with Paris, for the war further implicitly diminish Helen’s significance in the whole matter (e.g. Il. 3. 100). At one point in Book 7 it even seems that Menelaus considers the return of Helen negotiable.107 As the Iliad would have it, Helen does not matter so very much to the other Achaeans, either. Hera says as much, telling Athena to use ‘pleasing words’ to dissuade the Achaeans from leaving Troy (Il. 2. 164) because she fears that they will actually do so, leaving Helen behind ‘as a boast’ for Priam and his sons: κὰδ δέ κεν εὐχωλὴν Πριάμωι καὶ Τρωσὶ λίποιεν / Ἀργείην Ἑλένην, ἧς εἵνεκα πολλοὶ Ἀχαιῶν / ἐν Τροίηι ἀπόλοντο, φίλης ἀπὸ πατρίδος αἴης (160–2).108 Hera’s fear is well placed: the Achaeans are so ready to abandon the war and leave Helen behind that Nestor must remind them of their obligation to her. Nestor accordingly adopts the formula of retribution discussed above to admonish the Achaeans not to go home until they have raped the wives of Trojans. τὼ μή τις πρὶν ἐπειγέσθω οἶκόνδε νέεσθαι, πρίν τινα πὰρ Τρώων ἀλόχωι κατακοιμηθῆναι, τείσασθαι δ’ Ἑλένης ὁρμήματά τε στοναχάς τε. (2. 354–6 [356 = 590]) And so let no one make haste to depart for home until he has bedded himself down beside the wife of some Trojan, to avenge the sighing and groans of Helen.

The different contexts in which the formula occurs reveal how different Nestor’s motivation is from that of Menelaus. Nestor seeks a tit-for-tat: the

106  . . . τί δὲ λαὸν ἀνήγαγεν ἐνθάδ’ ἀγείρας / Ἀτρείδης; ἦ οὐχ Ἑλένης ἕνεκ’ ἠϋκόμοιο; / ἦ μοῦνοι φιλέουσ’ ἀλόχους μερόπων ἀνθρώπων / Ἀτρεῖδαι; (Il. 9. 338–41); a richly ironic statement in light of Menelaus’ unconcern with Helen and Agamemnon’s disdain for Clytaemnestra (Il. 1. 113–15). Contrast Achilles’ asseveration of his love for Briseis (Il. 9. 341–3). 107  When Idaeus announces Priam’s offer to return all of Menelaus’ possessions to him as long as Paris can keep Helen (Il. 7. 385–93), Menelaus pointedly does not refuse. Indeed, every­one else remains silent, too (398)—and it looks as if the whole expedition is in danger of ending abortively, until Diomedes rebukes the Achaeans and reminds them that they must now accept nothing less than the destruction of Troy (400–2). 108  It makes sense for Hera to blame Paris in an oblique reference to the Judgement of Paris, cf. Il. 24. 28–30; A. Parry (1989) 319.

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The Iliad  47 rape of the Trojan women for the rape of Helen (355). Menelaus seeks to redress an injustice and to have returned to him what was stolen.109 He declares in Book 3 that he is willing to allow the war to conclude peacefully if he can regain his wife and possessions.110 In Book 7, it is Diomedes, not Menelaus, who insists that neither the return of the possessions nor Helen will suffice to avert the destruction of Troy (400–2).111 For Menelaus, Helen’s role in the outbreak of the Trojan War was minimal but justice demands that the Trojans be punished. Thus Homer refigures the traditional ex­plan­ ation for Menelaus’ campaign against Troy (2. 356 = 590), nuancing but not entirely falsifying it.112 Menelaus is introduced in the banquet of Agamemnon and the Catalogue of Ships in a singular and highly revealing manner. He steps from hollow Lacedaemon, as if from the shadows of his brother’s vast territory (cf. Il. 2. 580), as the single most independent figure among the Achaeans. Quoting the Trojan War tradition, it is Menelaus’ desire for retribution and self-guided decision to embark for Troy that brought the entire Achaean army to its shores (589–90). These first—seemingly underwhelming—appearances of Menelaus emphasize, moreover, his point of view. Much of the narrative elapses with Menelaus unnoticed, but his importance to the war—and the refiguring of the war’s meaning within the poem—persists.

Act 1 (Iliad 3–4) It has long been noted that in Iliad 3 Homer essentially re-stages the Trojan War on his own terms.113 The duel re-enacts the outbreak of the war; Paris’ guilt is renewed in the palace at Troy after it ends.114 The war, which provides the narrative ‘frame’ of the poem, becomes its focus in Book 3.115 This is the first ‘act’ of Menelaus’ story. He is the protagonist on the battlefield and he 109  Cf. A. Parry (1989) 318. 110  Menelaus accepts the duel and is willing to let the war be resolved by it (Il. 3. 98–9, 102); Agamemnon also accepts the terms at 3. 280–5, although in addition to the return of Helen and Menelaus’ possessions, he seeks a ‘penalty’: τιμὴν δ’ Ἀργείοις ἀποτινέμεν, ἥν τιν’ ἔοικεν (3. 286). 111  Cf. Sammons (2014) 20–1. 112  Cf. Kahil (1955) 20. 113  e.g. Kakridis (1949) 90; already a ‘truism’ to Whitman (1958) 265; Krieter-Spiro (2009) BK III. 2: 11–12, 17–18. Cf. Barck (1971) 11: the duel functions ‘Vergangenheit zu vergegenwärtigen’. The duel creates ‘epic suspense’ to suggest different potential outcomes to the Trojan War; cf. Morrison (1992) 51–63; Danek (2010). 114  Reinhardt (1997 [orig. pub. 1938]) 185–7; cf. Kakridis (1971) 31–2. 115  Lang (1995) 150–3.

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48  Menelaus in the Archaic Period focalizes the scene as it unfolds.116 Menelaus lives up to his dis­tinct­ive epithet, ἀρηΐφιλος, as he is shown to be a better warrior than Paris by far. Despite his curious insistence that Menelaus is the weaker of the two in the poem overall, Robert aptly comments that in the duel ‘Ménélas est vainqueur dans toute la mesure où il lui est humainement possible de l’être: c’est une déesse qui lui dérobe sa victoire’—an observation that only echoes what Helen herself has said.117 The episode constitutes a massive spectacle, for the gods and for the poem’s auditors.118 Homer does not merely re-stage the beginning of the war, however; he dramatically re-writes its meaning through novel inversions of traditional motifs and allusive tropes such as ‘remembering’. Homer manipulates narrator-text and character-text for character-portrayal, as well, so that the audience learns quite a bit about the ‘personality’ of Menelaus and the other actors. To Pucci, Homer’s manipulation of the trad­ition in the duel and its aftermath results in a perverse comedy, ‘an almost parodic deformation’ of the war and its imperatives in which ‘the text mocks the dramatic gravity of Menelaus and the other soldiers’.119 Pucci’s emphasis is on the uncanny and inhumane behaviour of the gods; our interest is in Menelaus’ role in all this. The gods are, at this point, on Paris’ side; and the epic tradition dictates that the war should not be concluded by this duel. Faced with doubly impossible odds, Homer shows Menelaus come out rather well. Homer signals the grandeur of the episode, presenting the first massed encounter of the poem, with a visual tableau (Il. 3. 1–14). The two armies draw up opposite one another, the Trojans shouting like birds flying across the ocean (1–7) while the Achaeans face them in a deadly silence (8–9). The simile creates a narrative pause and marks the importance of the moment. The duel is the first scene of its type in the Iliad.120 The traditional typology, however, is immediately inverted. Paris—the weaker warrior—arms first (3. 330–8).121 From the very beginning, moreover, Menelaus shapes the audience’s perspective. Menelaus watches Paris as he enters (16), his fine appearance slightly undercut by the detail that he is clad in a leopard skin and armed with a bow (17).122 The warlike Menelaus ‘recognizes’ Paris as he

116  Mackay (2001) 9; de Jong (20042) 127 n. 72. 117  Robert (1950) 237. 118  Pucci (2018) 201–2. 119  Pucci (2018) 202. 120 The Menelaus-Paris duel is the first example of the dueling warrior type-scene that recurs throughout the poem (e.g. Glaucus and Diomedes, 6.119–236); in its length and extension it foreshades the most important duel of the Iliad, that of Achilles and Hector. Cf. Fenik (1968) 73–4, 78–9; Krieter-Spiro (2009) BK III. 2: 17–18. 121  Pucci (2018) 202–3 with n. 6. 122  Cf. Scodel (2002) 112.

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The Iliad  49 steps onto the battlefield: τὸν δ’ ὡς οὖν ἐνόησεν ἀρηΐφιλος Μενέλαος / ἐρχόμενον προπάροιθεν ὁμίλου μακρὰ βιβάντα (3. 21–2).123 The character of each man is developed in the ensuing pair of animal similes. Menelaus is the more fearsome figure in each.124 As Pucci observes, ‘the text mocks Paris’ bravery’.125 In the first simile Menelaus is compared to a ravening lion with Paris as his prey. ὥς τε λέων ἐχάρη μεγάλωι ἐπὶ σώματι κύρσας, εὑρὼν ἠ᾽ ἔλαφον κεραὸν ἠ᾽ ἄγριον αἶγα πεινάων· μάλα γάρ τε κατεσθίει, εἴ περ ἂν αὐτόν σεύωνται ταχέες τε κύνες θαλεροί τ’ αἰζηοί· (3. 23–6) He rejoiced, like a lion coming upon a large carcass, discovering a horned stag or wild goat, when he is hungry. And he devours it fully, even if swift dogs and strong young men should chase him.

Menelaus qua λέων is bloodthirsty for battle and will be undeterred from seeking his kill. The added detail that the lion will devour its prey even if the dogs and hunters try to drive him off is ‘beyond the stated point of comparison (here, delight) and is typical of the developed Homeric simile. Sometimes, however, the addition creates a resonance with the main situ­ ation, and that may be so here; for Menelaus’ delight is associated with determination to take his revenge, as will be implied in 28.’126 The audience ‘sees’ Paris through Menelaus’ eyes a second time at the conclusion of the lion simile (cf. Il. 3. 21): ὣς ἐχάρη Μενέλαος Ἀλέξανδρον θειοειδέα ὀφθαλμοῖσιν ἰδών· φάτο γὰρ τείσασθαι ἀλείτην· (27–8) Thus Menelaus rejoiced, seeing godlike Paris before his eyes. For he intended to punish the wrongdoer.

The narrator reinforces the implicit emotional content.127 Like the lion, Menelaus ‘was delighted’ at the sight of Paris (ἐχάρη 23, 27). We learn through indirect speech that Menelaus intended to make Paris pay for his lawlessness 123  Cf. Menelaus’ gaze at the beginning of the duel with Euphorbus (Il. 17. 1–2). The two ‘notices’ both occur at the outset of a major episode and are followed by a simile. 124  Cf. Moulton (1977) 89–90. 125  Pucci (2018) 203. 126  Kirk (1985) 269. 127  Krieter-Spiro (2009) BK III. 2: 22–5.

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50  Menelaus in the Archaic Period (φάτο γὰρ τείσασθαι ἀλείτην 28).128 Menelaus’ perception is in the foreground (ὀφθαλμοῖσιν ἰδών 28) and in his view Paris is a scoundrel, deserving of revenge.129 In the simile and its aftermath Homer has made the audience feel as Menelaus does through an almost visceral description of his emotions. The audience is drawn into his story by listening to his claim for justice (cf. φάτο 28).130 A second simile describes Paris reacting to Menelaus like a man who is frightened by the sudden appearance of a snake (Il. 3. 33–5).131 His attempt to retreat into the safety of the Trojan ranks (36–7) is ‘a nice anticipation of the outcome of the duel’.132 Hector’s ensuing rebuke of Paris confirms the weakness implicit in the simile.133 The scene reveals the deftness of Homer’s composition.134 Paris proposes a duel (67–75) and Hector proffers the terms: a truce to be ratified by oath that the victor take Helen and the goods from Sparta (85–94). Homer’s reprise of the traditional motif of an oath to ratify the victor’s claims on Helen evokes the oath of Tyndareus. The im­port­ance of the oath will be emphasized as the story continues by its re­iter­ation in speeches by each of the Atreidae. Their separate acceptance of the oath evokes each man’s distinct role in undertaking the expedition to Troy. At each repetition the terms become more solemn and more reveletory of character (103–6, 276–80). The neat parallelism between paired brothers, Achaean and Trojan, one a disputant and the other commander-in-chief, would lead the audience to expect Agamemnon to respond to Hector’s challenge on Menelaus’ behalf. Rather than allowing his brother to speak on his behalf as Paris has done, Menelaus speaks out while all others remain silent (95). General silence after 128  On the religious/legal connotations of the phrase τείσεσθαι ἀλείτην, Krieter-Spiro (2009) BK III. 2: 25. 129  de Jong (20042) 139. 130  Cf. de Jong and Nünlist (2004). The point of view implicit in the simile is the ‘scenic standpoint, fixed on one character, actorial’ (B-5 in their typology) (66); a narrative type that often (as here) but not always embeds the character’s focalization (79). 131  The snake simile is reversed late in the poem when Hector stands firm at the sight of Achilles (22. 93–7), cf. Richardson (1993) 116; cf. de Jong (2012) 81. Currie (2016) considers the repetition demonstrative of the possibility of long-range allusion spanning nearly the whole epic (261 with n. 18). 132  Sluiter (2005) 380. 133  Suter (1993) esp. 5–7 for the vocabulary, narrative-pattern (a ‘blame figure’), and the depiction of Paris as a λωβητήρ in the scene; cf. Ready (2011) 202–4. 134  The leading Trojan characters are introduced in this book. Homer sketches Paris’ consistently negative character by various traditional means: simile (Il. 3. 33–7); typical rebukespeech uttered by Hector (38–57) introduced by the riddling play on his name Δύσπαρι, εἶδος ἄριστε, γυναιμανὲς ἠπεροπευτά, / αἴθ᾽ ὄφελες ἄγονός τ᾽ ἔμεναι ἄγαμός τ᾽ ἀπολέσθαι (39–40); the substance of the rebuke is repeated by Diomedes in Book 11 (385–95). See Ready (2011) 205–7; cf. Fenik (1968) 96.

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The Iliad  51 a speech ‘that creates a new situation’ is typical; the poet’s choice of Menelaus as first to respond is significant.135 When Menelaus speaks, his first time in the Iliad, he utters a curious but characteristic riposte. Kirk observes that Menelaus’ impassioned speech contrasts with Hector’s straightforward proposal, composed of short sentences and internal interruptions.136 Moreover, to the challenge issued by the most formidable of Trojan warriors Menelaus calls everyone to attention and proceeds to talk about . . . his feelings. Homer casts Menelaus as a true ‘personality’, in Gill’s terms, turning the public into the personal and laying out his emotions before all.137 κέκλυτε νῦν καὶ ἐμεῖο· μάλιστα γὰρ ἄλγος ἱκάνει θυμὸν ἐμόν, φρονέω δὲ διακρινθήμεναι ἤδη Ἀργείους καὶ Τρῶας, ἐπεὶ κακὰ πολλὰ πέπασθε εἵνεκ᾽ ἐμῆς ἔριδος καὶ Ἀλεξάνδρου ἕνεκ᾽ ἀρχῆς. (3. 97–100) And listen now to me also. For sorrow weighs very much on my heart, and I am determined that the Argives and Trojans should at last part from one another, since you have suffered many evils for the sake of my quarrel and Paris’, its instigator.

Menelaus tells Hector and all the assembled host that he is troubled in spirit (97–8) and wishes the dispute to be settled ‘because you have suffered many ills’—and here Menelaus appears to be taking in the Trojans as well as the Achaeans (98–9), for the sake of his quarrel with Paris—‘who started it’ (100). Menelaus focalizes the situation, acknowledges his responsibility for the war and sympathizes with the difficulties it has occasioned others. Menelaus’ determination to exact retribution from the Trojans was alluded to in its traditional articulation, ‘for Helen’, in the Catalogue of Ships (2. 589–90).138 Homer maintains Menelaus’ association with the war as an integral element of his personality but refigures its meaning. Menelaus leaves Helen out of it and claims that the war is his personal responsibility. He specifies the terms of the penalty and modifies Hector’s offer on two

135  Cf. West (2011) 130, alleging that the poet’s choice of Menelaus is ‘natural’; perhaps so, but Diomedes’ retort in Book 7 (399 ff.) suggests that the choice was by no means automatic. 136  Kirk (1985) 276–7; Krieter-Spiro (2009) BK III. 2: 45 adds that these elements reflect Menelaus’ inner anguish, his ‘Schmerz’ (97). 137  Gill (1990) 2–5. 138  Cf. Scodel (2008) 83–4, 89–90.

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52  Menelaus in the Archaic Period points. Paris and Hector have proposed that ‘the winner takes all’, Helen and the stolen goods (3. 71–2 = 92–3).139 But Menelaus envisages a fight to the death, giving voice to the deadly intention implicit in the lion simile (101–2; 23–6). Whereas Hector had simply proposed an oath (3. 94) Menelaus calls the gods as witnesses to the treaty. He prescribes a full ceremony involving separate sacrifices (103–6) to separate gods (Earth and the Sun on the Trojan side, Zeus for the Achaeans 103–4), and Priam must participate (105–6). Menelaus claims for himself the right to specify correct religious procedure, claims Zeus for himself and the Achaeans, and requires the participation of Priam king of Troy. ἄξετε δὲ Πριάμοιο βίην, ὄφρ᾽ ὅρκια τάμνηι αὐτός, ἐπεί οἱ παῖδες ὑπερφίαλοι καὶ ἄπιστοι, μή τις ὑπερβασίηι Διὸς ὅρκια δηλήσηται. (105–7) Bring out strong Priam from the city, so that he himself may witness the treaty, for his sons are reckless and untrustworthy—lest someone should, by a transgression, do harm to the oaths of Zeus.

Menelaus’ demand that Priam also swear the oath is in the first instance a plot device to facilitate the emergence of the king from the palace and prepare for the upcoming scene with Helen. But, as Willcock observed, action in Homer often occurs for the depiction of character, and accordingly Menelaus shows his true colours in demanding the appearance of Priam. He considers the sons of Priam to be ‘haughty and untrustworthy’ (106) and he suspects that they will violate the truce due to their wantonness (ὑπερβασίη).140 It is Menelaus’ abiding ambition in the Iliad to engage the sons of Priam in battle, usually to be thwarted for one reason or another. He challenges them one after another: Paris (Book 3), Hector (Book 7), Helenus (Book 13), Hector (Book 17). Aphrodite thwarts Menelaus’ victory in the present match, against his chief opponent Paris (3. 369–82).141 But he is not always frustrated. When Menelaus engages Helenus later on, he wins, deflecting Helenus’ arrow 139  Agamemnon characteristically adds a third clause, demanding that further penalty (τιμή) be paid (Il. 3. 286); cf. Kirk (1985) 274, 305–6. 140  Cf. Heath (2005). 141  Cf. 7. 101–21 (a duel with Hector thwarted by Agamemnon); 17. 91–108 (an encounter with Hector deferred until reinforcements might be found); 582–96 (a duel with Hector thwarted by the gods).

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The Iliad  53 and driving his spear through Helenus’ bow arm, causing him to retreat (13.  581–600, below). And Menelaus successfully slays the last and worst of Priam’s sons, Deïphobus, at the sack of Troy; but this is beyond the purview of the story Homer wishes to tell (cf. Il. exc. arg. 15; cf. Od. 8. 517–20). Regardless of its terms, the correctness of its procedure or even the integrity of its guarantors, the oath is doomed to fail in the face of the imperative of the traditional course of the war. Helen cannot be returned, nor either man be slain, before the city falls. The narrator therefore reassures the audience that the Iliad will not contravene its tradition, remarking that Zeus did not in any way approve it.142 Pandarus’ violation of the oath at the behest of the gods, though seemingly an ‘irreverent and nasty gesture’ on their part, likewise makes sense within the paradoxical logic of the narrative.143 In it all, Menelaus is cast as an earnest and unwitting victim.144 In the midst of this overarching narrative plan for the truce and its violation, Homer deftly highlights Menelaus’ personality and perspective.145 Placed at the beginning of the Iliadic version of the war, the personality traits revealed here remain consistent throughout the poem, lending unity to the character and his theme. Menelaus will return to his specific complaints against the Trojans at roughly the mid-point of the poem, as the fortunes of the Achaeans are in steep decline (13. 620–39). Here Menelaus ends his response to Hector with a sententious and seemingly somewhat irrelevant statement about the folly of youth. αἰεὶ δ᾽ ὁπλοτέρων ἀνδρῶν φρένες ἠερέθονται· οἷς δὲ γέρων μετέησιν, ἅμα πρόσσω καὶ ὀπίσσω λεύσσει, ὅπως ὄχ᾽ ἄριστα μετ᾽ ἀμφοτέροισι γένηται. (108–10) Younger men’s hearts are always flighty, but whenever an old man participates, he considers the past and the future, so that the very best result comes about for both sides.

Menelaus rivals Nestor in his love of sententiae.146 Underlying Menelaus’ sententiousness is a sense of aggrieved piety that asserts itself again and 142  See van Erp Taalman Kip (2000). 143  Cf. Pucci (2018) 220. 144  Cf. Pucci (2018) 203. 145  In historical times, the Spartans had a reputation for concern about honouring one’s oath; cf. Bayliss (2009) 232–5. 146 Cf. Il. 7. 97–102; 13. 636–9; 23. 441, 607. Lardinois (2000) discusses Homer’s use of gnomic statements in character portrayal with little mention of Menelaus (but cf. 646 n. 21).

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54  Menelaus in the Archaic Period again. The specifics here, moreover, introduce a theme that will be reiterated by Menelaus in his final appearance. Antilochus, due to youthful folly (cf. 23. 604), will fail to heed Menelaus’ warnings to avert disaster in the chariot race (cf. 3. 109–10). There, too, Menelaus will agitate for the swearing of oaths (23. 441, 581–5; below pp. 108–15). Before the present oaths can be sworn and the duel got underway, however, Homer introduces the third key protagonist in the Trojan War story.147 From a lofty vantage point atop the walls of Troy Priam invites Helen to take a seat next to him, to see ‘your former husband, in-laws, and friends’ (ὄφρα ἴδηις πρότερόν τε πόσιν πηούς τε φίλους τε 3. 163).148 The mention of Helen’s Spartan ‘family and friends’ is a self-reflexive trope signalling an allusion to the tradition.149 Menelaus is implicated in the allusive reminiscences by Helen and Antenor that follow. Helen identifies the Achaeans on the field by their relation to Menelaus (3. 171–244).150 When Priam asks about Agamemnon, Helen expresses her regret and self-recrimination for having left behind her bridal chamber and kinsmen, favoured daughter, and charming companions (172–5).151 Menelaus, not mentioned by name, is implied nevertheless in the transferred reference to their bedchamber (θάλαμον 174).152 Next, Helen stresses her kinship with Agamemnon through marriage (δαὴρ αὖτ’ ἐμὸς ἔσκε κυνώπιδος, εἴ ποτ’ ἔην γε 180). In choosing to describe Agamemnon as her brother-in-law (δαήρ) Helen implicitly identifies who Agamemnon ‘is’ by reference to Menelaus. Helen also identifies Idomeneus by reference to Menelaus. Menelaus often entertained him whenever he came to visit from Crete (232–3).153 Hospitality, and indeed Crete as well, are recurring themes as Menelaus’ character is developed in the Odyssey and other early Greek poetry. In the present context, Helen’s recollection of Idomeneus’ visit from the island ironically reverses Menelaus’ fateful visit there, leaving Helen and Paris alone at Sparta (cf. Cypr. arg. 15–16).

147  Helen’s presence on the wall recalls the original contest of suitors, with sworn oaths obliging the participants to accept the outcome, Kakridis (1971) esp. 31–7. 148  On Helen as internal narrator, Clader (1976) 9–10; Austin (1994) 46–7; Roisman (2006) 11–15; Blondell (2013) 62–9. 149  Cf. Currie (2016) 27. 150  Cf. Kirk (1985) 286–8. 151  Cf. Blondell (2013) 62–70. 152 Cf. ΣT ad loc.; Kirk (1985) 290. 153  Kirk (1985) upheld the authenticity of the passage against scholars such as Shipp who suspected that the description of Idomeneus was interpolated, observing that it is appropriate for Helen to speak of Idomeneus due to ‘the connexion he provides with her old life in Lakedaimon, where she often saw him’ (298).

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The Iliad  55 Antenor joins Helen in commemorating the Achaean commanders.154 Like Helen, Antenor uses Menelaus as the point of reference and reveals rather a lot about him. ἤτοι μὲν Μενέλαος ἐπιτροχάδην ἀγόρευεν, παῦρα μέν, ἀλλὰ μάλα λιγέως, ἐπεὶ οὐ πολύμυθος οὐδ’ ἀφαμαρτοεπής· ἦ καὶ γένει ὕστερος ἦεν· (3. 213–15) Indeed Menelaus spoke fluently, using few words, but was utterly clear, since he was neither long-winded nor missing the point, though he was younger.

Menelaus cut a more impressive figure than Odysseus, at least while standing (στάντων μὲν Μενέλαος ὑπείρεχεν εὐρέας ὤμους 3. 210).155 His speech was fluent, elegant, and apt (213–15). Homer fashioned the unique compound adjective ἀφαμαρτοεπής (‘missing the mark in speech’) for Menelaus, perhaps modelling it on the (also unique) epithet ἁμαρτοεπής which occurs at the same position in a verse in Book 13 (/ Αἶαν ἁμαρτοεπές Il. 13. 824). Homer joins the hapax with a negative (οὐδ’), a formulation that appears only here in extant Greek epic.156 Homeric innovation often shows itself in compounds, which are a productive source of neologisms.157 The novel phrase tellingly implies that Menelaus is proto-typically ‘laconic’ and provides its paradigmatic definition. It includes facility in speaking (ἐπιτροχάδην 213); brevity (οὐ πολύμυθος 214); with few words but those, elegently chosen (παῦρα μέν . . . μάλα λιγέως 214) that get right to the point (οὐδ᾽ ἀφαμαρτοεπής 215).158 Antenor’s recollection is one of several allusions in the Iliad to the story of the Achaean embassy to recover Helen (cf. Il. 11. 123–5, 138–42; Cypr. arg. 55–6).159 The embassy will be considered further below (Chapter 3); what is important here is that as Homer tells it Menelaus and Odysseus were its chief diplomats (cf. Il. 11. 139–40). 154  Scodel (2002) 190 shows that the balance of Trojan popular opinion in the poem seems to be in favour of sending Helen home with Menelaus: Antenor and the elders (Il. 3. 159) and the Trojan people (7. 393; 18. 254–309); cf. 11. 123–5 (Paris bribed Antimachus to reject the return of Helen). The implication is that, on the subject of rightful possession Helen, the Trojans are on Menelaus’ side. 155  Cf. Martin (1989) 95–6. 156 Cf. LfgrE 9. 1693–4. 157  Richardson (1987) 168. 158  Antenor’s reminiscence at the wall about Menelaus’ pithy and apt choice of words could be interpreted as reflecting his penchant for sententiae, like the Spartan Chilon, one of the seven sages who was famous for his gnomai, βραχυλόγος τε ἦν (Diog. Laert. 3. 72); cf. Cartledge (2001) 49–50, 199–200 n. 52; Bayliss (2009) 236–40. 159  Cf. Edwards (1991) 238–40.

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56  Menelaus in the Archaic Period After the reminiscences of Antenor and Helen the duel sequence begins with another allusion to the beginning of the war. Paris, arming first, is introduced by a verse-length epithet quoting the original crime (δῖος Ἀλέξανδρος, Ἑλένης πόσις ἠϋκόμοιο 329). Pucci reads the sequence and its aftermath, the violation of the truce by Pandarus, as ironically pitting Menelaus’ authentic heroism against the gods’ cruel manipulation of the epic conventions and values: The text exhibits two contradictory versions of the event on the same page and in the same lines: in one version, we read of Menelaus’ heroic actions and expectations; in the other, we read the parodic deformation—of which Menelaus cannot be aware—of the epic narrative rules and realize that these rules do not take seriously Menelaus’ heroic commitment. Through this devious strategy, the narrative displays its collusion with the gods’ violation of the truce.160

Pucci considers the Iliad’s inversion of Menelaus’ rightful claims and ex­pect­ations for victory a ‘parodic deformation’ of the ‘rules’ of epic narrative. While the matter might be stated in less perjorative terms, it is clear that the narrative involves a triad of mutually exclusive outcomes. On its merits, the duel ought to result in Menelaus’ victory, Paris’ death, an immediate end to the war, and the return of Helen—but this would conflict with the trad­ itional course of the story (allusively quoted just before); the third element is the seemingly inscrutable behaviour of Zeus, now favouring the Trojans due to the wrath of Achilles. The ensuing narrative, alternating action and imprecation, centres on Menelaus. The typology of the combat-pattern demonstrates Menelaus’ superiority, and the action is punctuated by two prayers expressing first Menelaus’ rightful claim on Zeus’ patronage and then his outrage when victory eludes him (350–4, 364–8).161 Paris strikes first but his spear glances off Menelaus’ armour (346–9). Menelaus addresses the first of two brief prayers to Zeus before taking his shot.162 It is typical for heroes to invoke the help of Zeus or the gods before engaging in combat. Menelaus does so, however, at great length and makes rather strong claims upon him.163 160  Pucci (2018) 203. 161  Cf. Fenik (1968) 6–7, 73, 191; Kirk (1985) 316–17. 162  Menelaus’ two addresses to Zeus are paired with two by Agamemnon before the duel; cf. Kirk (1985) 317. 163  Cf. A. Parry (1989) 318–19.

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The Iliad  57 The poet gives voice to Menelaus’ self-righteous point of view and tacitly takes his side.164 Ζεῦ ἄνα, δὸς τείσασθαι, ὅ με πρότερος κάκ᾽ ἔοργεν, δῖον Ἀλέξανδρον, καὶ ἐμῆις ὑπὸ χερσὶ δάμασσον, ὄφρα τις ἐρρίγησι καὶ ὀψιγόνων ἀνθρώπων ξεινοδόκον κακὰ ῥέξαι, ὅ κεν φιλότητα παράσχηι. (351–4) Lord Zeus, grant that I may punish the one who committed a wrong against me first, godlike Paris, and strike him down by my hands, so that even in later generations one may shudder to commit a crime against a host who treats him with friendship.

Formally an epikletic prayer for assistance (δὸς . . . με 351), Menelaus expresses his claim upon the god. Menelaus chooses the role of ‘wronged host’ for himself and Zeus as his patron.165 He seeks recompense from Paris ‘[because he] wronged me first’ (351–2). The fall of Troy is to be Menelaus’ just recompense.166 The offence is precisely that of violating his hospitality, and Menelaus considers himself an exemplum.167 His victory over Paris will serve as a lesson to future generations on how not to treat a host (353–4). He casts the spear, which penetrates Paris’ armour but fails to kill him as he jumps aside just in time (3. 356–60). Menelaus next strikes a resounding blow on Paris’ helmet with his sword but it is shattered to pieces and flies out of his hands (361–3): ‘Obviously, Zeus rejected Menelaus’ request and his claim at a sort of moral and anthropological right to kill Paris’.168 Menelaus groans aloud, raising his eyes to ‘broad heaven’ (Ἀτρείδης δ᾽ ὤιμωξεν ἰδὼν εἰς οὐρανὸν εὐρύν 364): Ζεῦ πάτερ, οὔ τις σεῖο θεῶν ὀλοώτερος ἄλλος. ἦ τ᾽ ἐφάμην τείσασθαι Ἀλέξανδρον κακότητος· 164  Cf. Hohendahl-Zoetelieff (1980) 148–52. 165  Zeus does not explicitly affirm or deny the claim (contrast his response to Asius, Il. 12. 173); Zeus assigns Hera and Athena to be Menelaus’ ‘protectors’ (ἀρηγόνες) in the subsequent divine assembly (4. 7). See Yamagata (1997) 5. 166  Grethlein (2012) 25–6. 167 On Homeric heroes’ concern for reputation, Scodel (2008) esp. 23–32. Menelaus’ remarks recall the ‘subject of song’ motif; de Jong (2006) 195 (with Nagy [19992]) esp. 15–25, 94–117, 174–6. 168  Pucci (2018) 204.

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58  Menelaus in the Archaic Period νῦν δέ μοι ἐν χείρεσσιν ἄγη ξίφος, ἐκ δέ μοι ἔγχος ἠΐχθη παλάμηφιν ἐτώσιον, οὐδ᾽ ἐδάμασσα. (365–8) Father Zeus, no other one of the gods is more destructive than you. I thought I would take revenge on Paris for his wickedness. But as it is the sword broke in my hands, the spear flew from my grip in vain, and I did not strike him down.

The epithet by which Menelaus addresses Zeus is familiar (‘father’ 365),169 but the larger syntactic unit recurs only once in the Iliad, expressing Achilles’ desperate appeal to Zeus ‘in the face of the overmastering force of a god’ (364–5a ~ 21. 272–3a, with change of patronymic).170 Pucci indicates how Homer uses the traditional sequence to express the ‘personality’ (in Gill’s terminology) of his characters. The poet uses the formula to express ‘the inner life of a hero seeking god (Ζεῦ πάτερ)’ and his ‘deep resentment as he realizes that all the normal ritual gestures . . . have proved vain and fruitless’. Menelaus ‘makes Zeus a direct target’ here because he is so distraught that he has failed to secure what justice demands, a decisive victory against Paris (3. 366–8).171 Menelaus had legitimately assumed that Zeus was on his side and blames him for the seeming-failure of his goal (ἦ τ᾽ ἐφάμην τείσασθαι Ἀλέξανδρον κακότητος 366). On the basis of the purported familiarity of their relationship Menelaus calls Zeus ‘more destructive’ than any other god (365).172 The only other mortal figure to berate a god as freely is Achilles, speaking to Apollo (ἔβλαψάς μ᾽, Ἑκάεργε, θεῶν ὀλοώτατε πάντων 22. 15). Having broken his sword, Menelaus resorts to grabbing hold of the chin-strap and attempting to drag Paris to his death.173 The tactic would have succeeded if Aphrodite had not got involved.174 In what is perhaps a glance at the unorthodoxy of the tactic, the narrator reports that if he had been successful Menelaus would have achieved glory beyond all telling (καί νύ κεν εἴρυσσέν τε καὶ ἄσπετον ἤρετο κῦδος 3. 373). Instead Aphrodite causes the thong to split, releasing Paris and spiriting him away (374–82). Menelaus, 169  The common vocative epithet Ζεῦ πάτερ (365) is employed again by Menelaus in the apologia to the Trojans (13. 631) and to Euphorbus (17. 19); cf. Yamagata (1997) 5 with n. 23. 170  Pucci (2012) 432; cf. variations at Il. 7. 178–9, 201–2. 171  Cf. Pucci (2012) 432. 172 The Odyssey-poet seems to allude to the verse (Ζεῦ πάτερ, οὔ τις σεῖο θεῶν ὀλοώτερος ἄλλος 365) and its context, repeating it verbatim in the context of a complaint against the violation of hospitality (Od. 20. 199–201). 173  ‘An untypical, impetuous act of fearless desperation by the frustrated hero’, comments West (2011) 136. 174  Aphrodite’s intervention is a typical element of divine-rescue scenes; cf. Fenik (1968) 12; Kirk (1985) 319–20. ‘[M]iraculous removals [from the battlefield] forcibly bend the action to enable it to follow the course prescribed by tradition’, Fraenkel (1975) 73.

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The Iliad  59 nevertheless, is winner of the duel (4. 13).175 Paris has added a third insult to the previous two injuries against Menelaus. He has violated his hospitality and guest-friendship (ξεινοδόκον . . . φιλότητα 3. 354); dishonoured his τιμή by taking Helen (3. 366, cf. 2. 590), and now deprived him of his rightful glory (κῦδος 3. 373). Despite Menelaus’ prominence and undisputed superiority, the duel would seem to end with his effacement as Aphrodite snatches Paris—and victory— away.176 At this point Pucci asserts that the text ‘plunges us into a farce’.177 But Aphrodite’s threats are distinctly un-comic (3. 414–17), as Helen’s response makes plain (418). Yet even as the narrative shifts to the inner rooms of the Trojan palace Helen calls Menelaus back to mind.178 Helen had hoped that Menelaus would win the duel and would take her home, for she is miserable with Paris (3. 404, 412).179 But this is not (yet) to be. When forced by Aphrodite to re-play the conjugal union Helen signals her nonconsent by refusing to meet Paris’ eyes (ὄσσε πάλιν κλίνασα 427).180 She uses Menelaus as a rebuke to him. ἤλυθες ἐκ πολέμου· ὡς ὤφελες αὐτόθ’ ὀλέσθαι ἀνδρὶ δαμεὶς κρατερῶι, ὃς ἐμὸς πρότερος πόσις ἦεν. ἦ μὲν δὴ πρίν γ᾽ ηὔχε᾽ ἀρηϊφίλου Μενελάου σῆι τε βίηι καὶ χερσὶ καὶ ἔγχεϊ φέρτερος εἶναι· (3. 428–31) You have come from the war. How I wish you had died there, struck down by a stronger man, who was formerly my husband. And indeed, before you even boasted that you were better than warlike Menelaus, in your strength and hands and spear.

Helen twice refers to Menelaus as ἀρηΐφιλος (430, 432) bringing the full semantic weight of the epithet into play. She reminds Paris (and, indirectly, 175 Cf.  de Jong (20042): ‘The if not-situation emphasizes Menelaus’ lost chance to glory (κῦδος) rather than Paris’ critical situation . . . . This is in tune with the whole context of the duel between Paris and Menelaus, where from beginning to end emphasis is put on Menelaus’ eagerness to revenge himself on Paris’ (70). 176  Fernand Robert’s (1950) reductive summary of the duel as a match between two types of weaklings (‘Paris est celui qui pourrait mais qui ne veut pas, Ménélas, celui qui voudrait mais qui ne peut pas’ 236) does not do justice to the nuanced discussion that he goes on to provide (236–41). 177  Pucci (2018) 205. 178  Roisman (2006) esp. 22–3. 179  Foreshadowing the reconciliation of the couple after the Trojan War and perhaps even their resumption of married life at Sparta. 180  Minchin (2010) 391. Compare artists’ use of a strong mutual gaze to signify Helen’s assent to her reunion with Menelaus, especially on Athenian vases of the sixth century.

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60  Menelaus in the Archaic Period the audience) that Menelaus is worthy of his epithet.181 Helen’s praise of Menelaus as warrior is a fitting counterpart to Antenor’s earlier praise of Menelaus as speaker (213–15). There will be no re-match on the battlefield. Paris has failed to live up to his boasts and would surely be beaten by Menelaus a second time (433–6). Menelaus had assumed that the gods were on his side. So, in fact, does Paris, who mildly replies that Menelaus’ success was due to the intervention of Athena (νῦν μὲν γὰρ Μενέλαος ἐνίκησεν σὺν Ἀθήνηι 3. 439). Though Menelaus got the better of him in the duel, Paris meaningly comments that ‘it is possible that we also have gods on our side’ (πάρα γὰρ θεοί εἰσι καὶ ἡμῖν 3. 440).182 Paris reinforces Menelaus’ claim of special protection by the gods, although in the present circumstance Paris gets the details wrong— and perhaps intentionally misapprehends which of them has received a goddess’s aid. As we have seen, in the duel and its aftermath Homer undertakes a subversive narrative feint, self-reflexively alluding to the events leading up to the Trojan War even while the threatening to circumvent its traditional ending.183 Menelaus’ part in all of this is central. He nearly puts an end to the war by killing Paris in battle while Helen attempts to refuse the ‘marriage’ to Paris out of preference for him. Helen goes to bed with Paris only after Aphrodite threatens what is perhaps the most unthinkable outcome of all: not only to withdraw her favour from Helen but to destroy her (τὼς δέ σ᾽ ἀπεχθήρω ὡς νῦν ἔκπαγλ᾽ ἐφίλησα, / . . . σὺ δέ κεν κακὸν οἶτον ὄληαι / 415, 417). Menelaus lays claim early on to Zeus as guarantor of the treaty (3. 104) and patron, insisting that Zeus ought to punish Paris for the wrong done him in violating his hospitality (351–4). At the beginning of Book 4 Zeus confirms Menelaus’ privileged position at the divine council, pointedly ‘reminding’ Hera and Athena, along with all the other gods, of the identity of Menelaus’ tutelary goddesses (δοιαὶ μὲν Μενελάωι ἀρηγόνες εἰσὶ θεάων, / Ἥρη τ᾽ Ἀργείη καὶ Ἀλαλκομενηῒς Ἀθήνη 4. 7–8).184 Zeus rebukes the goddesses to impel them to act on Menelaus’ behalf so that the war against Troy 181  Cf. Roisman (2006) 22; Minchin (2010) 392–3. 182  The ironic implication of the verse (‘it is possible that we also have gods on our side’) surely is not fortuitous, nor the possible allusion to Apollo’s aid to Paris at the end of the war and the death of Achilles. 183  An abortive end to the war runs through the early books of the Iliad, confronting the audience with the possibility that the traditional story could be altered; cf. Reinhardt (1997 [1938]) 180–1; Morrison (1992) esp. 61–3; Scodel (2002) 68–9. 184  See Pucci (2018) 206–31, on whose discussion of the gods’ seemingly contra­dict­ory behaviour in this passage my own depends; cf. van Erp Taalman Kip (2000) 390–4.

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The Iliad  61 can resume (4. 9–12); of course his hidden agenda is to re-start the battle to punish the Greeks. Menelaus is doubly a pawn, first wounded by his ‘protrectress’ seemingly for the sake of his own greater good; but she herself will be used as a cat’s paw, a proxy agent by whose intervention Zeus is planning to thwart the very cause he would seem to support. Zeus proclaims Menelaus the rightful winner of the duel (ἀλλ᾽ ἤτοι νίκη μὲν ἀρηϊφίλου Μενελάου· 4. 13; note the meaningful placement of the distinctive epithet ἀρηϊφίλου 13). While the statement that ‘victory belongs to warlike Menelaus’ would seem to evoke the traditionally determined end of the war, its allusive meaning is rendered problematic though the audience’s knowledge of Thetis’ request and Zeus’ true intention. Zeus’ double-talk continues in the suggestion that Priam’s city might remain un-sacked and that Menelaus might take Argive Helen home (18–19). The proposal is meant to be inflammatory. The question is not whether or not Menelaus will recover Helen sooner or later but whether or not Troy must fall. Hera is outraged and Zeus comes in for another insult (αἰνότατε Κρονίδη 25; cf. 3. 365). For our purposes, what is clear amidst all the obfuscation is that for Hera, Menelaus is a means to an end (Πριάμωι κακὰ τοῖό τε παισίν 4. 28).185 Her πόνος is evil for Priam and his sons (cf. 57).186 Hera is allied to Menelaus by a common cause, the destruction of Troy, but will remain his personal protector only insofar as it suits her purpose. His overall good matters little to her, and she would accede to the destruction of Sparta, along with Argos and Mycenae, if need be, to secure the fall of Troy (50–6).187 Yet this will not be necessary, and Hera remains true to her allegiance to Menelaus, sending Athena to intervene in the battle on behalf of the Achaeans because of a promise made to him (ἦ ῥ’ ἅλιον τὸν μῦθον ὑπέστημεν Μενελάωι 5. 715). Matters are different with Athena. Paris was mistaken to believe that she helped Menelaus win the duel (3. 439) but the assumption that he enjoys her special protection is correct. Moreover, the Iliad dramatizes Athena’s traditional support of the Achaeans’ side in the war through her affective language and actions toward Menelaus. Her solicitude toward Menelaus

185  Hera’s intervention in the Cypria is more closely related to thwarting Paris than aiding Menelaus; it is said to have begun soon after Paris’ departure from Sparta (Cyp. arg. 18). 186  Cf. Reinhardt (1997 [1938]) 183–4. 187  A vexed passage since antiquity. Aristarchus proposed that a special affection for these cities would explain Hera’s support of the Achaeans (ΣA Il. 4. 52). See Shipp (19722) 242 on the seeming anachronism, answered by Kirk (1985) 336. On Argos in the Iliad, see further Coray et al. (2007) BK XIII. 2: 36.

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62  Menelaus in the Archaic Period after the shot of Pandarus is surpassed only in the aristeia when she intervenes on his behalf (esp. 17. 553–81). Adam Parry commented, [W]hile it is essential for the audience to have [the Judgement of Paris] somewhere in mind, it is largely kept in the background in the Iliad. The poet, that is, is more concerned, in the actual narrative, with the character of Menelaus . . . than he is with the folktale itself . . . . The dearness of Menelaus to the gods becomes part of his characterization in the poem.188 

In the present plan of Zeus and the poetic plan of the Iliad, however, Menelaus’ aim to punish the Trojans is secondary to the punishment of the Achaeans for Agamemnon’s insult of Achilles. Athena persuades Pandarus to take a shot at Menelaus so that the Trojans will break the truce (93–103). She entices him with the prospect of the ­massive reward he would receive from Paris and the Trojans if he should manage the (traditionally impossible) task of bringing about the death of the ‘warlike son of Atreus’ with his pyre lit at Troy (. . . Μενέλαον ἀρήϊον Ἀτρέος υἱόν / σῶι βέλεϊ δμηθέντα πυρῆς ἐπιβάντ᾽ ἀλεγεινῆς 98–9). The wounding highlights Menelaus’ central position in the war and in the ethical economy of the Iliad: ‘The wounding of Menelaus is atypical in opposing glory and grief so neatly . . . [b]ecause Menelaus is essential to the Trojan War, to kill him, even ignobly, would constitute a Trojan victory in the war’.189 The poet builds up the excitement and gravity of the episode by special figures of language and rhetoric. An extended ‘object biography’ of the bow leads to a close description of its stringing and its course (4. 105–26, 134–40); interspersed are a pair of narratorial apostrophes (127–8, 146–7) forming a ring around a pair of unforgettable similes (130–1, 141–5): ‘At this moment, Menelaus is the hinge of the Iliad’.190 Even as the arrow is still in flight (125–6) the narrator turns from the scene to direct an apostrophe to Menelaus (and implicitly the audience), reminding Menelaus that the gods, and especially Athena, have not forgotten him: ‘[I]t is as if the poet viewing Menelaus now threatened with death, could not restrain himself from telling him his sympathy’.191 οὐδὲ σέθεν, Μενέλαε, θεοὶ μάκαρες λελάθοντο ἀθάνατοι, πρώτη δὲ Διὸς θυγάτηρ ἀγελείη, 188  A. Parry (1989) 319. 189  Scodel (2008) 29. 190  Kahane (1994) 105 with n. 76 (citing Willcock [1970] ad Il. 4. 172). 191  Pucci (2018) 227, adding that ‘it is a void sympathy, since the Poet knows—and knows that his audience knows—that there was never any real danger’.

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The Iliad  63 ἥ τοι πρόσθε στᾶσα βέλος ἐχεπευκὲς ἄμυνεν. ἣ δὲ τόσον μὲν ἔεργεν ἀπὸ χροός, ὡς ὅτε μήτηρ παιδὸς ἐέργηι μυῖαν, ὅθ’ ἡδέϊ λέξεται ὕπνωι· (4. 127–31) But the blessed immortal gods did not forget you, Menelaus, especially the spoil-gathering daughter of Zeus, who stood before you and warded off the piercing dart. She brushed it aside from your flesh, as when a mother brushes a fly away from her child, who lies in sweet slumber.

The fly is not uncommon in Homeric similes.192 Whereas in other such similes the point of comparison is frenzied movement, however, the comparison of Pandarus’ arrow to a fly diminishes its danger and implicitly reassures the audience as to Menelaus’ well-being. Athena’s protection is compared to the tender care of a mother. ‘The poet has apostrophised Menelaus just at the point when the miracle happens and he has further emphasised the moment with a vivid simile comparing Athene’s action to that of a mother brushing a fly away from a sleeping child’, remarks Mackay, ‘. . . the second-person address, in conveying the narrator’s continuing concern for Menelaus, heightens the recollection of his danger calling for a response of pity and fear from his listeners’.193 When Athena intervenes a second time, it will be not merely to avert his death but to endow him with supernatural strength (17. 569–73, cf. pp. 96–7). Athena was to blame for Menelaus’ wound in the first place, having tricked Pandarus into taking the shot (4. 86–104), but the seeming-betrayal is followed by a simile that demonstrates Athena’s exceptional care for him.194 Athena is first among gods and men to focalize—and minister to—the wound of Menelaus. Adam Parry comments that ‘Menelaus is the last man to be . . . forgotten by the gods. They must after all protect him; he must live to regain his loss, since all this is being done for him. Hence the poet turns our full attention on him now: . . . οὐδέ σέθεν, Μενέλαε, θεοὶ μάκαρες λελάθοντο [4. 127]’.195 The narrator ‘follows’, as a camera would, the course of the arrow as it pierces Menelaus’ belt (134–5) and armour (136–40). It wounds but does not kill him. The narrative-standpoint at hand is the ‘close-up’, a point of 192 Cf. Il. 2. 469–73 (the Achaeans, marching into battle, are compared to flies swarming over milk pails); 16. 641–3 (Greek warriors clustering around Sarpedon’s body are like flies over milk pails); 17. 570–3 (Menelaus’ eagerness to fight is like a biting fly). 193  Mackay (2001) 9–10. 194  ‘The perverse irony explodes’, comments Pucci (2018), as ‘the poetic voice focalizes the pleasurable tone of the rescuer who is simultaneously the persecutor’ (227). 195  A. Parry (1989) 318.

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64  Menelaus in the Archaic Period view rare enough in Homer, providing ‘gory details’ in which the narrator ‘even stretches the limits of realism, because strictly speaking only a coroner could actually see the exact nature of the wound caused by the weapon’.196 A  second extraordinary simile follows the exceptionally vivid narration: blood drips from the wound like the dyeing of ivory.197 αὐτίκα δ’ ἔρρεεν αἷμα κελαινεφὲς ἐξ ὠτειλῆς· ὡς δ’ ὅτε τίς τ’ ἐλέφαντα γυνὴ φοίνικι μιήνηι Μηιονὶς ἠὲ Κάειρα, παρήϊον ἔμμεναι ἵππων— κεῖται δ’ ἐν θαλάμωι, πολέες τέ μιν ἠρήσαντο ἱππῆες φορέειν, βασιλῆϊ δὲ κεῖται ἄγαλμα, ἀμφότερον κόσμός θ’ ἵππωι ἐλατῆρί τε κῦδος— τοῖοί τοι, Μενέλαε, μιάνθην αἵματι μηροί εὐφυέες κνῆμαί τε ἰδὲ σφυρὰ κάλ’ ὑπένερθεν. (4. 140–7) Immediately the dark blood flowed out of the wound. As when some Maeonian or Carian woman stains ivory with purple, to be a cheek-piece for horses, and it is laid in a treasure chamber, and many horsemen vow to carry it off, but it is an ornament for a king, an adornment for his horse and a prize for its driver—just so, Menelaus, your shapely thighs were stained with blood and your shins and lovely ankles beneath.

This second simile is even more special than the first: the image, without parallel in Homer, marks the importance of the episode and its victim.198 The precious value of the items involved (141) reflect on Menelaus’ kingliness (esp. 144) and irreplaceable value to the Achaeans. A simile in which ivory is worked on by a woman is, moreover, uniquely appropriate for a character whose fortunes have been so determined by women: Menelaus sailed to Troy for the sake of a woman (2. 586–90) and his success is guaranteed by two goddesses, Athena and Hera (4. 7–8).199 Returning from the tenor of the simile to its vehicle the narrator directly apostrophizes Menelaus, describing to him what his own wound looks like (τοῖοί τοι, Μενέλαε . . . 146–7). Menelaus’ perception of the wounding is, realistically, slightly delayed. Agamemnon notices it at once and shudders (148–9). Only then does Menelaus realize what has happened and his 196  de Jong and Nünlist (2004) 78. 197  Beck (2008) 175–6. 198  Kirk (1985) 345–6. 199  Moulton (1977) 93 n. 14; cf. Scott (1974) 112; Beck (2008) 175–6.

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The Iliad  65 reaction mirrors his brother’s (ῥίγησεν δὲ καὶ αὐτὸς ἀρηΐφιλος Μενέλαος 150). More swiftly than his brother, however, Menelaus takes courage when he sees that the barbs have not penetrated the skin (152). Agamemnon groans deeply (153) and the other Achaeans join in (154). Menelaus matters greatly to Athena and to the Achaeans; to Agamemnon he matters most of all. It is an important feature, perhaps the most attractive one, of Agamemnon in the Iliad.200 Agamemnon is utterly distraught (ἀλλά μοι αἰνὸν ἄχος σέθεν ἔσσεται, ὦ Μενέλαε 4. 169). He grabs his brother’s hand and utters a piteous lament for his death (169–82).201 His sorrow, to be sure, does not arise solely from affection. Agamemnon recognizes that Menelaus’ part in the war is indispensable and determines that without Menelaus the Achaeans will immediately decide to close up shop and go home. αἴ κε θάνηις καὶ μοῖραν ἀναπλήσηις βιότοιο, καί κεν ἐλέγχιστος πολυδίψιον Ἄργος ἱκοίμην. αὐτίκα γὰρ μνήσονται Ἀχαιοὶ πατρίδος αἴης, κὰδ δέ κεν εὐχωλὴν Πριάμωι καὶ Τρωσὶ λίποιμεν Ἀργείην Ἑλένην· σέο δ᾽ ὀστέα πύσει ἄρουρα κειμένου ἐν Τροίηι ἀτελευτήτωι ἐπὶ ἔργωι· (4. 170–5) If you die and reach the fated end of your life, I would return to thirsty Argos utterly contemptible. For the Achaeans will immediately call to mind their native land, and thus we would leave behind Argive Helen as a boast for Priam and the Trojans. And the land will rot your bones as you lie dead on the plain at Troy, with our deed unaccomplished.

Agamemnon imagines with lurid vividness what would ensue if Menelaus should die.202 The war aborted (‘the deed undone’ 175) Helen will be left behind at Troy, with his brother’s bones rotting on the Trojan plain (172–4). This is worse than what Pandarus had hoped for (cf. 98–9). Menelaus soon recognizes what Agamemnon is really concerned about, his reputation, and reassures him (θάρσει, μηδέ τί πω δειδίσσεο λαὸν Ἀχαιῶν 184).203 Agamemnon’s self-serving concern for his brother’s safety is matched, however, by the concern shown by the other Achaeans. Menelaus’ 200  Whitman (1958) 162. 201  A mostly typical example of an epic speech-type (‘prospective lamentation’) more often assigned to a female mourner, Kelly (2012) 234–6. 202  See esp. Taplin (1992) 104–5; Scodel (2008) 10–11, cf. 70–1. 203  Cf. Scodel (2008) 10–11; Sammons (2009b) esp. 39–43.

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66  Menelaus in the Archaic Period wounding by Pandarus makes literal the vulnerability that elicits the sym­pathy of the narrator and the Achaeans.204 That he requires protection need not be equated with being cowardly or weak.205 All of the major leaders seek assistance or are wounded at one point or another. Agamemnon, in fact, is so gravely wounded before the Iliad is half over that he never re-joins battle.206 Menelaus’ vulnerability is singular, and is thematically his own, because of his exceptional importance to the story of the Trojan War. ‘Everyone dies’, Achilles tells Lykaon, ‘even Heracles died . . .’ (18. 117–19). But Menelaus cannot die. Homer makes it plain—and the characters of the Iliad, implicitly or explicitly, agree. He must survive if the meaning of the war is to be preserved and the toil of so many Achaeans is not to have been in vain (cf. 5. 567; 23. 607–8). The Odyssey resolves the ‘problem’ of Menelaus’ necessary non-death by prophesying an eternal life in Elysium. Agamemnon’s overheated but telling response to the wounding reverses the conventional order of importance between the Atreidae. Agamemnon reveals his utter dependence on his brother. If Menelaus should die, the earth might as well swallow him up, τότε μοι χάνοι εὐρεῖα χθών (4. 182). Agamemnon has been shown, at this point in the Iliad, to be ‘lord of men’.207 He has sent the most ships (2. 580) and as the poem continues he will repeatedly tell Menelaus what to do. But it is Menelaus, not Agamemnon, who will appear onstage at the final curtain.208 Thus, faced with death, it is for Menelaus to reassure Agamemnon that the arrow has missed its mark (θάρσει . . . / οὐκ ἐν καιρίωι ὀξὺ πάγη βέλος 4. 184–5) implicitly reminding him, and the audience, that it is not yet the ‘right time’ for the war to end. As Kelly observes, Menelaus mistakenly credits his armour—rather than the gods—for his preservation. The irony of the misapprehension would not have been lost on the audience.209 Agamemnon, immensely relieved (αἲ γὰρ δὴ οὕτως εἴη, φίλος ὦ Μενέλαε 189), can resume his position as leader of the Achaean army, summoning the herald Talthybius to send for Machaon son of Asclepius (190–7). Menelaus’ wound has brought anguish upon them all (4. 207). The army gathers as Machaon attends to Menelaus (4. 209–12). The spectacle of Menelaus, wounded, provides narrative impetus for the resumption of battle. The gathering of the Achaeans prompts the Trojans to muster for battle.

204  e.g. Edwards (1991) 62, 76; Willcock (2002) 222; Minchin (2011) 337. 205  Pace Willcock (2004) 53. 206  Cf. Taplin (1990) 73. 207  Taplin (1990) 61–7. 208  Taplin (1990) 77–9. 209  Cf. Kelly (2018) 358.

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The Iliad  67 ὄφρα τοὶ ἀμφεπένοντο βοὴν ἀγαθὸν Μενέλαον, τόφρα δ᾽ ἐπὶ Τρώων στίχες ἤλυθον ἀσπιστάων. (4. 220–1) While they attended to Menelaus good at the war cry, the ranks of shield-bearing Trojans drew up.

Menelaus is literally at the centre of the Achaean army (cf. 211–12). The Achaeans arm themselves and recall their ardour for battle as the Trojans approach (222). The re-commencement of battle concludes the first ‘act’ of Menelaus’ story, as at last the Trojan War begins in earnest. ‘The fascinating story produces serious effects, but its ironic tone allays and attenuates their gravity: the continuation of the war is what the gods finally want, the Narrator wants, and the Narratees want’.210

Entr’actes (Iliad 5–11) As the narrative turns to the battle, with Diomedes taking Achilles’ place on the battlefield, Menelaus makes a number of brief but significant appearances. Menelaus is among the first Achaeans to meet and slay a Trojan opponent when battle resumes in Book 5 (5. 49–58), following only Agamemnon (38–42) and Idomeneus (43–8). Menelaus kills his opponent, the eponym­ous hero Scamandrius, son of Strophius and pupil of Artemis (51–2), in a typical ‘ABC’ battle-scene pattern.211 Emboldened by the victory Menelaus challenges Aeneas, the son of Aphrodite and second-greatest Trojan warrior.212 The narrator uses the ‘unequal fight’ type-scene as an illustration of Menelaus’ character and re­a ffirm­ation of his fundamental importance to the war.213 Menelaus engages the greater hero not out of desire for glory, nor for sheer folly, but out of pity, to avenge the death of the young brothers Crethon and Ortilochus. Menelaus’ compassionate defence of the fallen men follows upon the statement that they died for his honour.214 Homer exploits the poignancy of the motif: a pair of brothers, in the prime of their youth, struck down defending

210  Pucci (2018) 228. 211  Cf. Beye (1964) 55–8; cf. Fenik (1968) 16–17; differently, Tsagarakis (1982) 127–8. 212  The same goddess (Aphrodite) plays nearly the same trick with Aeneas as she had done in Menelaus’ previous encounter with Paris (cf. 5. 312–16). 213  Willcock (2002) 223. 214  On brother-pairs in Homeric battle, Stoevesandt (2008) BK IV. 2: 20.

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68  Menelaus in the Archaic Period the honour of another brother-pair (551–3). The mention of the ‘honour of the Atreidae’ might be an (intratextual) quotation of Achilles’ statement about the reasons for the war (ἐσπόμεθ’, ὄφρα σὺ χαίρηις, / τιμὴν ἀρνύμενοι Μενελάωι σοί τε, κυνῶπα, / πρὸς Τρώων· 1. 158–60) even if the reiterated sentiment originally arises from a traditional formulation. Menelaus runs to the defence. Ares has inspired the well-meaning but ill-advised intention, the narrator reports, in hopes that Menelaus might be defeated by Aeneas. τὼ δὲ πεσόντ᾽ ἐλέησεν ἀρηΐφιλος Μενέλαος, βῆ δὲ διὰ προμάχων κεκορυθμένος αἴθοπι χαλκῶι, σείων ἐγχείην· τοῦ δ’ ὤτρυνεν μένος Ἄρης, τὰ φρονέων, ἵνα χερσὶν ὕπ’ Αἰνείαο δαμείη (5. 561–4)215 Warlike Menelaus took pity on the pair as they fell, and strode through the foremost fighters, in gleaming bronze helmet, brandishing his spear. But Ares stirred up his ardour with the intention that he should be struck down by the hands of Aeneas.

Menelaus’ characteristic epithet ἀρηΐφιλος resonates in its context (561). The point is not so much to falsify the epithet and imply that Menelaus is a weakling but that in this instance Ares is anything but his friend (562). The ironic situation, in which Ares is the enemy of Menelaus ἀρηΐφιλος, reflects the larger inversion in the war that results from Thetis’ request to Zeus. Ares’ opposition to Menelaus in the first massed battle of the Iliad hints at how very wrong things will go for the Achaeans in the absence of Achilles. Antilochus accordingly comes to Menelaus’ defence (565–7).216 The two men fight side by side in the ensuing scene (568–89), providing the first glimpse of the close friendship that characterizes the pair throughout the poem.217 Ares’ presence on the battlefield provokes Hera to seek out Athena and remind her of their obligation to Menelaus. Hera’s ‘reminder’ intratextually alludes to the divine council that resulted in the shot of Pandarus. The selfreflexive trope invites the audience to infer an intertextual allusion to some promise made to Menelaus in the epic tradition; though, given the ironic handling of the tradition noted above, the poet might have invented the 215 Taking μένος as object of ὤτρυνεν . . . Ἄρης. ‘Menelaus’ reaction here is bold, compassionate and imprudent’: Kirk (1990) 116. 216  Cf. Fenik (1968) 59–60. 217  Willcock (1973) 7–8; (1983) 480–1; (2002) 222–3.

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The Iliad  69 putative promise ad hoc.218 In any event, Ares, unchecked, threatens to destroy Menelaus and, in turn, contravene the mythological tradition. ἦ ῥ᾽ ἅλιον τὸν μῦθον ὑπέστημεν Μενελάωι, Ἴλιον ἐκπέρσαντ᾽ εὐτείχεον ἀπονέεσθαι, εἰ οὕτω μαίνεσθαι ἐάσομεν οὖλον Ἄρηα. (5. 715–17) Then [it would seem that] we made an idle promise to Menelaus, that he would sack lofty Troy and return home, if we allow baneful Ares to rage about like this.

Hera’s concern for Menelaus mirrors that of Antilochus; he ‘awakens the protectiveness’ of gods as well as men.219 Menelaus requires no such assistance in his next appearance in Book 6. Menelaus’ defeat of Adrestus is the last and most distinctive entry in a series of Achaean victories (6. 37–50).220 Menelaus appears at the close of the episode, seemingly out of the blue. He makes a ‘sudden, looming appearance’, having already beaten his opponent Adrestus, with the ‘uncanny quality of a divine apparition’.221 The poet marks out the episode by providing a ‘header’ (Ἄδρηστον δ᾽ ἄρ᾽ ἔπειτα βοὴν ἀγαθὸς Μενέλαος / ζωὸν ἕλ᾽· 37–8) before proceeding to an especially vivid, ‘graphic’ narration.222 Adrestus’ horses take flight and his chariot is overturned, leaving him at Menelaus’ mercy.223 The poet combines two traditional scene types in what ensues as Menelaus plans to, but is dissuaded from, sparing the suppliant: the supplication type-scene, the first instance in the poem (cf. 11. 130–5), and a ‘Beinaheepisode’ (cf. 2. 155–6). Adrestus begs Menelaus for mercy (6. 45–50). So great is Menelaus’ compassion that in spite of the insults and injury caused by Paris and Pandarus he is tempted to allow his enemy to live, a battlefield

218  In spite of the seeming allusion, the promise is not well attested; cf. Cypr. arg. 18–19; Kullmann (1960) 240; Kirk (1990) 131 (‘[n]o specific promise need have been made to Menelaus, but he is clearly involved’); West (2013) 98. 219  Cf. Willcock (2002) 223. 220  The ‘full and pathetic’ Adrestus episode is marked in its context, following a ‘rapid and arid sequence of deaths’, Kirk (1990) 159. 221 Graziosi and Haubold (2010) 87 observe that the focus of the episode begins with Menelaus and then shifts gradually to Agamemnon (ad 44). Menelaus is addressed by Adrestus with the vocative formula (Ἀτρέος υἱέ 46) using the patronymic that he shares with Agamemnon; cf. Parry (1971) 75. 222 Cf. ΣD ad loc.; de Jong (2007) 35. 223  Vermeule (1987) 143.

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70  Menelaus in the Archaic Period outcome as yet unparalleled in the poem.224 Adrestus’ offer to compensate Menelaus is also the first ransom-offer of its kind in a battle­field context (ζώγρει, Ἀτρέος υἱέ, σὺ δ᾽ ἄξια δέξαι ἄποινα 6. 46).225 It would be appropriate for Menelaus to accept.226 He almost does (51). ὣς φάτο, τῶι δ᾽ ἄρα θυμὸν ἐνὶ στήθεσσιν ἔπειθεν· καὶ δή μιν τάχ᾽ ἔμελλε θοὰς ἐπὶ νῆας Ἀχαιῶν δώσειν ὧι θεράποντι καταξέμεν· ἀλλ᾽ Ἀγαμέμνων ἀντίος ἦλθε θέων, καὶ ὀμοκλήσας ἔπος ηὔδα· (6. 51–4) Thus spoke [Adrestus], and he was beginning to persuade [Menelaus’] heart within his breast. And he was just about to hand him over to his henchman to lead to the swift ships of the Achaeans; but Agamemnon came running up to join him, and uttered a forceful reproach.

‘Menelaus is always being persuaded’, commented Adam Parry,227 and Menelaus, as we see in the end, considers the trait a virtue (Il. 23. 611). Here, the poet has chosen a variant of a common verse formula (ἐνὶ στήθεσσιν ὄρινεν) to express his characteristic pliancy (ἐνὶ στήθεσσιν ἔπειθεν· 51).228 Agamemnon, close at hand, utters a blistering rebuke. The address is marked out with the introductory formula, ὦ πέπον (6. 55) as Agamemnon demands to know why Menelaus cares so much about others (ὦ πέπον, ὦ Μενέλαε, τίη δὲ σὺ κήδεαι οὕτως / ἀνδρῶν; 55–6).229 He sarcastically evokes the tradition against Menelaus’ present disposition to clemency (. . . ἦ σοὶ ἄριστα πεποίηται κατὰ οἶκον / πρὸς Τρώων; 56–7). Agamemnon prefers 224  The novel tactic is marked by the emphatic δ᾽ ἄρ᾽ ἔπειτα and enjambment at vv. 37–8 (Graziosi and Haubold [2010] 86); cf. Stoevesandt (2008) BK IV. 2: 24–5. Later in the poem Menelaus offers Euphorbus a ‘survival option’ (flight, 17. 30–2), as Achilles does to Aeneas (20. 196–8); cf. Kozak (2017) 189. 225 Graziosi and Haubold (2010) 88; cf. Stoevesandt (2008) BK IV. 2: 24 with further bibliography. 226 Accepting ransom is an acceptable and familiar response; Agamemnon himself has accepted it in the past (Il. 2. 229–30); cf. Achilles’ response to Lycaon rejecting the specific instance, not the general principle of ransom (Il. 21. 99–113); cf. Scodel (2008) 75–93; Stoevesandt (2008) BK IV. 2: 26. 227  A. Parry (1989) 320. 228  The variant ὄρινεν for ἔπειθεν (51) is found in a minority of MSS: ‘einer mechanischen Angleichung der Stelle an den Formelverse’ (Stoevesandt [2008] BK IV. 2: 28); compare a negated but otherwise nearly identical verse-formula, also illustrative of character, in the Meleager-exemplum (ἀλλ᾽ οὐδ᾽ ὧς τοῦ θυμὸν ἐνὶ στήθεσσιν ἔπειθον, Il. 9. 587); cf. the shorter negative formula (Il. 22. 78, 91, of Hector). 229  Cf. Graziosi and Haubold (2010) 91.

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The Iliad  71 revenge to ransom.230 ‘Agamemnon and Menelaus clash over the future of Adrestus, but their encounter also brings into view the entire history of the Trojan War, from its origins (56–7) to the future sack of Troy (57–60)’. Mentioning the two brothers together ‘is an effective way of evoking the expedition as a whole . . . . Menelaus is the reason the whole expedition takes place; Agamemnon is in charge of it’.231 Agamemnon persuades his brother (ὣς εἰπὼν ἔτρεψεν ἀδελφεόο φρένας ἥρως 6. 61) ‘as he spoke fittingly’ (αἴσιμα παρειπών 62). αἴσιμα from whose point of view?232 The much-discussed difficulty arises again in Book 7 after Agamemnon’s second rebuke of Menelaus (ὣς εἰπὼν παρέπεισεν ἀδελφεόο φρένας ἥρως, / αἴσιμα παρειπών, Il. 7. 120–1). There, the narrator shares Agamemnon’s point of view that Menelaus is unequal to Hector (103–5). One might accordingly consider, in the present context, that the implied viewpoint belongs to the narrator.233 It is at least as likely, however, that the embedded viewpoint belongs to Menelaus.234 Oliver Taplin remarks that the passage forms a ‘test case’ for the tendency of the Iliadic narrator largely to abstain from explicit moral judgement.235 In spite of his sympathetic impulses even towards an enemy, Menelaus defers to Agamemnon. The scene concludes as dramatically as it began, with the plight of its victim.236 Menelaus extricates himself from the suppliant, ὃ δ᾽ ἀπὸ ἕθεν ὤσατο χειρί / ἥρω᾽ Ἄδρηστον (62–3) and allows Agamemnon to carry out the killing (63–5).237 Later, when Hector returns to the battlefield in Book 7 after his visit to Troy, a doublet episode intratextually recalls Menelaus’ duel with Paris—with Hector as Menelaus’ potential opponent this time around.238 Meanwhile the second duel sets up a prospective intratextual contrast between Menelaus and Achilles. As the poet for the second time vets the possibility that the war might end with Troy unconquered, the themes of war and the wrath are implicated in a comparison of their champions. Hector offers a general 230  Martin (1989) 123; Kirk (1990) 161; Taplin (1992) 51–2, 162–3; Sammons (2010) 123. 231 Graziosi and Haubold (2010) ad 51–65; Menelaus is ‘relatively kind and ineffectual, Agamemnon is bent on success to the point of savagery’ (89). 232  ‘[I]ndem er riet, was rechtens war’, Stoevesandt (2008) BK IV. 2: 31; cf. de Jong (20042) xvi; Scodel (2008) (‘in accordance with norms’), explaining Menelaus’ view as a recognition that if he spared a Trojan he would ‘lose face’ (83–4). Taplin (1992) offers the elegant gloss, ‘to the point’ (52). 233  Cf. Fenik (1986) 22–7; Kirk (1990) 161–2. 234  Cf. Taplin (1992) 50 [secondary focalization]; de Jong (20042) 205; Stoevesandt (2008) BK IV. 2: 31. 235  Cf. Taplin (1992) 50–2. 236  Note the necessary enjambement; Kirk (1990) 162; Stoevesandt (2008) BK IV. 2: 31. 237  Cf. Willcock (1970) 195. 238  Cf. Bassett (1927); Kirk (1978).

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72  Menelaus in the Archaic Period challenge to fight any of the Achaeans to end the war (7. 67–91).239 No one speaks until Menelaus, late, stands up and accepts (ὀψὲ δὲ δὴ Μενέλαος ἀνίστατο καὶ μετέειπεν 94).240 In Book 3 a formal peace treaty has been concluded between the armies and the duel provides a legally sanctioned settlement of the opposing claims of Menelaus and Paris for Helen; the duel in Book 7, on the other hand, does not provide for an orderly resolution of the conflict, as Hector’s challenge makes clear (7. 69–72). What the duel does provide is an opportunity to gain glory and demonstrate personal prowess. But, as Rousseau comments, ‘c’est là surtout qu’il est intéressant d’observer ce qui arrive à Ménélas, volontaire quand tous les autres se taisant, et aussitôt retenu par ses compagnons. Pour ce type de combat il n’est à l’ évidence pas le promos que les Achéens peuvent opposer à Hector’.241 Menelaus had evinced sympathy for the Achaeans’ exertions on his behalf (3. 99–100); now he rebukes them for cowardice in failing to meet Hector’s challenge (7. 95). Menelaus previously blamed the sons of Priam for untrustworthiness (3. 106–7) and in Book 13, he will go on to vehemently condemn all of the Trojans (13. 620–39). Here, Menelaus inveighs against his allies and friends. ὤι μοι, ἀπειλητῆρες, Ἀχαιΐδες, οὐκέτ’ Ἀχαιοί· ἦ μὲν δὴ λώβη τάδε γ᾽ ἔσσεται αἰνόθεν αἰνῶς, εἰ μή τις Δαναῶν νῦν Ἕκτορος ἀντίος εἶσιν. ἀλλ’ ὑμεῖς μὲν πάντες ὕδωρ καὶ γαῖα γένοισθε ἥμενοι αὖθι ἕκαστοι ἀκήριοι, ἀκλέες αὔτως, τῶιδε δ’ ἐγὼν αὐτὸς θωρήξομαι· αὐτὰρ ὕπερθεν νίκης πείρατ’ ἔχονται ἐν ἀθανάτοισι θεοῖσιν. (7. 96–102) Ahh, you boasters, Achaean women, no longer Achaean men! It will surely be an outrage, beyond dreadful, if no one of the Danaans goes now to face Hector. May you all become water and earth, sitting back, each of you without any spirit, utterly inglorious! I myself shall take up arms against him. For indeed the limits of victory are [determined] on high, among the immortal gods.

Menelaus’ complaint is rather odd, seemingly far from the ‘fluent’ speech recalled by Antenor which involved few words but was unerring in its effect 239  See Kirk (1978) esp. 24–5. 240  Cf. 3. 95–6, where Menelaus is also first to speak. 241  Rousseau (1990) 348.

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The Iliad  73 (cf. 3. 213–15).242 There are a number of lexical curiosities, including a novel term of insult (‘boasters’ 96) paired with a phrase found elsewhere in the poem only in the speech of Thersites (‘Achaeanettes, no longer Achaeans’ 96; cf. 2. 235).243 The poet indulges in jingles (αἰνόθεν αἰνῶς 97; ἥμενοι αὖθι ἕκαστοι ἀκήριοι, ἀκλέες αὔτως 100) and a metaphor (ὕδωρ καὶ γαῖα γένοισθε 99) larding the speech with two rhetorical formulations that are not less odd for sounding vaguely proverbial (99–102; cf. Hes. Op. 61). Βy failing to answer Hector’s challenge, the Achaeans are indicted of unspeakably outrageous cowardice (96–7). His friends’ display of λώβη has made them worse, in fact, than his enemies (cf. 13. 620–3).244 Scodel comments that the overheated speech is an attempt by Menelaus to demonstrate that he ‘has more of the warrior’s aidos than anyone else’.245 Menelaus offers to take on Hector himself, capping the rebuke with a pious gnome (7. 102–3). The truism (‘victory is determined by the gods’) reflects Menelaus’ own bitter experience in the poem. His decisive victory over Paris was thwarted by Aphrodite (3. 373–82); Athena guided the arrow of Pandarus (4. 104–40); Ares plotted his death (5. 563–4), provoking the intervention of Hera and Athena (5. 711–18). Menelaus matches actions to words. He begins to arm himself (7. 103) only to be interrupted by a pair of direct addresses, by the narrator and Agamemnon, creating the effect of voices raised in alarm (104, 109). The first address is uttered by the narrator, an apostrophe paired with an unreal condition. ἔνθά κέ τοι, Μενέλαε, φάνη βιότοιο τελευτή Ἕκτορος ἐν παλάμηισιν, ἐπεὶ πολὺ φέρτερος ἦεν, εἰ μὴ ἀναΐξοντες ἕλον βασιλῆες Ἀχαιῶν· (7. 104–6) And there, Menelaus, would have appeared the end of your life, at the hands of Hector, since he was much stronger, if the leaders of the Achaeans had not leapt up and restrained you.

242  Cf. Kirk (1990) 246–7. The singularity of the speech raised the suspicion of analyst critics; see Nesselrath (1992) 16 n. 28. On the ‘facework’ at play, Scodel (2008) 69–71. 243  The repetition of Thersites’ insult ‘intensifies the singular contrast between the whole of the present address and the tone of courteous regret which is elsewhere so characteristic of the attitude of Menelaus towards the Greeks’, Kirk (1990) 246. 244  λώβη is a strong term; ‘unbearable face loss’ (Scodel [2008] 85); cf. LfgrE 14: 1730–1; it is the term used by Achilles for the death of Patroclus (τεισαίμεθα λώβην Il. 19. 208). 245  Scodel (2008) 71.

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74  Menelaus in the Archaic Period The narrator admonishes Menelaus that a match with Hector would certainly result in his death (7. 104). The underlying situation is the opposite of its formal equivalent in Book 3. There, Menelaus engages a Trojan opponent (Paris) and wins. In the present situation Menelaus is prevented from engaging the opponent by the Achaeans; but if he had done so he would have been defeated (104–5).246 As indicated above, Menelaus is specially associated in the Iliad with ‘if not’ clause types. In these ‘near misses’ the narrative reaches the ‘brink of mythical impossibility’.247 ‘[Menelaus] is the one hero who cannot die’.248 Menelaus is determined to take up any challenge offered by Priam’s sons. But unassisted by Athena and not yet called upon to act in place of Achilles, Menelaus must be prevented. The other Achaean leaders accordingly rise up en masse to restrain him, terrified for his life (7. 106). Here again is Menelaus’ vulnerability, and his importance: ‘Menelaus’ safety is a chief concern of the other Greek leaders’.249 Later, it will be Hector who declines an encounter due to Menelaus’ apparent su­per­ ior­ity (17. 582–90, below pp. 97–9). Agamemnon’s address and ensuing rebuke, somewhat otiose given that the Achaean army has already intervened (7. 106) adds a characteristically brutal edge to the sentiments of the narrator (cf. 6. 55–60). It heightens the tone and picks up on the implicit challenge to the others presented by Menelaus’ speech.250 He tells Menelaus that he must be out of his mind (cf. ἀφραίνεις 7. 109; ἀφροσύνης 110). Even Achilles (‘a far better warrior than you’ 114) would shudder to engage Hector in single combat (113–14).251 The mention of Achilles confirms the structural contrast between the two heroes. Menelaus seeks to fight Hector and the Trojans due his loss of τιμή resultant on the abduction of Helen. Achilles refuses to fight them due to his loss of τιμή resultant on the taking of Briseis. The contrastive relationship between the two heroes will be resolved in Menelaus’ aristeia in Book 17 (below, pp. 103–5). In the present instance Menelaus, as before, allows himself to be persuaded by his brother (ὣς εἰπὼν παρέπεισεν ἀδελφεόο φρένας ἥρως, / αἴσιμα παρειπών, ὃ δ᾽ ἐπείθετο . . . 7. 120–1; cf. 6. 61–2).252 246  Cf. Duckworth (1933) 77 on ‘prophetic irony’, with the key difference that Menelaus’ blindness does not result in disaster (cf. Il. 16. 46–7). 247  Cf. Lang (1989) 10. 248  A. Parry (1989) 318. 249  Fenik (1968) 59; cf. A. Parry (1989) 318–20. 250  Cf. Scodel (2008) 70. 251 Martin (1989) justly observed that Agamemnon’s reproach is nearly as insulting to Achilles as to Menelaus. ‘The flyting rhetoric here cuts two victims at once, the absent Achilles and Menelaus, called second-rate to his face’ (116). 252  In the Odyssey, by contrast, in Nestor’s story of the fatal quarrel after the fall of Troy, Menelaus does not yield to Agamemnon (Od. 3. 136–50; below pp. 121–2).

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The Iliad  75 The poet of the Iliadic Book 10, though probably not Homer, understands Homer’s Menelaus.253 As the episode opens Menelaus has lain awake through the night out of sympathy for the Achaeans, acutely aware of his responsibility for the war.254 The narrator tells us, as usual, how Menelaus felt. ὣς δ᾽ αὔτως Μενέλαον ἔχε τρόμος—οὐδὲ γὰρ αὖ τῶι ὕπνος ἐπὶ βλεφάροισιν ἐφίζανε—μή τι πάθοιεν Ἀργεῖοι, τοὶ δὴ ἕθεν εἵνεκα πουλὺν ἐφ᾽ ὑγρήν ἤλυθον ἐς Τροίην πόλεμον θρασὺν ὁρμαίνοντες. (10. 25–8) Even thus, trembling beset Menelaus, and no sleep settled upon his eyes either— [worried] lest the Argives suffer something, who for his sake came to Troy across the great sea, intent on bitter warfare.

Menelaus is eager to move against the Trojans that very night, conceiving the idea of a nighttime sortie (10. 37–8).255 The narrator states that Menelaus arms himself directly upon rising from bed and seeks out his brother, addressing him first, τὸν πρότερος προσέειπε βοὴν ἀγαθὸς Μενέλαος (36).256 That the initiative was from Menelaus is later reiterated by Agamemnon (124).257 It calls to mind Menelaus’ prior self-taken decision to sail to Troy (2. 587–90).258 Menelaus’ point of view is first reported by the narrator (10. 26–8) and then expressed in his own words. Menelaus proposes to Agamemnon the very course of action that, later, Nestor advocates to the Achaeans (204): a sortie to Troy (37–41).259 Menelaus volunteers to participate (61–3), in spite of his apprehension, as a man would have to be most θρασυκάρδιος to embark upon such a mission (41). With characteristic deference Menelaus allows 253  See Hainsworth (1993) 151–5 with earlier bibliography; cf. Sammons (2009b) 27; West (2011) 233–5; differently, Dué and Ebbott (2010) 3–29; Bierl (2012) 133–74. Danek (2012) 114 notes a quotation by the Doloneia-poet from Book 3 (10. 180 ~ 3. 209). 254  On the Doloneia-poet’s structuring of reported past time in this episode (different than Homer), Danek (2012) 111–14. 255  Cf. Menelaus’ eagerness to fight at Il. 3. 21–9; 7. 96–102; 17. 61–9, 712–14. 256  Menelaus dons a panther skin (Il. 10. 29), often the garb of the inferior warrior (cf. 3. 17 [Paris]); contrast Agamemnon’s lion skin (10. 23); cf. ΣbT ad loc.; Hainsworth (1993) 160–1. 257 The Iliadic relationship between the brothers is ‘explicated’ by the poet of Book 10, Sammons’ (2009b) (27). 258  Cf. his attendance of his own accord (αὐτόματος) at the banquet of Agamemnon (Il. 2. 408–9). 259  Sammons (2009b) 31.

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76  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Agamemnon to decide which course he should follow (61, 72, 123).260 Agamemnon advises him to wait and let him seek out the other leaders to decide (10. 65–6). When Agamemnon asks Nestor for help inspecting the night watches (10. 96–101) Nestor does not respond directly to the request but instead reminds Agamemnon that Zeus will not allow Hector and the Trojans ul­ tim­ ate victory, however successful they may now appear, if Achilles should change his mind and relent (106–7). The seemingly incongruous response to a request for help effectively sets the present episode in the context of the larger poem. The fated outcome of the Trojan War—represented as the will of Zeus—depends on a single individual, Achilles, who has opted out of the war due to his wrath (cf. 107).261 But Nestor blames Menelaus. ἀλλὰ φίλον περ ἐόντα καὶ αἰδοῖον Μενέλαον νεικέσω, εἴ πέρ μοι νεμεσήσεαι, οὐδ’ ἐπικεύσω, ὡς εὕδει, σοὶ δ’ οἴωι ἐπέτρεψεν πονέεσθαι. νῦν ὄφελεν κατὰ πάντας ἀριστῆας πονέεσθαι λισσόμενος· χρειὼ γὰρ ἱκάνεται οὐκέτ’ ἀνεκτός. (10. 114–18) And even though he is a friend, and an honoured one, I shall reproach Menelaus, even if you blame me [for doing so], and I shall not conceal it, because he is sleeping and it falls to you to toil alone. Now he ought to have been going about among all the best men, entreating them; for a need is upon us that can no longer be endured.

Nestor states that although Menelaus is a good man and his friend (114) he will criticize him openly, no matter what Agamemnon may think (115). Menelaus has a moral obligation to toil alongside his brother, rather than sleeping while he does all the work; he ought to go around to the best men and beg them for help (116–17). The summoning of the Achaeans is placed here in the ninth year of the war, but Nestor’s rebuke—and the mustering of the Achaeans that follows—would be equally appropriate prior to the first, at the recruitment expedition for the war against Troy. In the Cypria

260  Il. 6. 61–2; 7. 120–1; cf. 17. 100–1, 656; 23. 573–8. 261  To leave Troy without winning the war, as Agamemnon disingenuously proposes to do in Book 2, would be ‘contrary to fate’ and thus (necessarily) prevented by the gods ἔνθά κεν Ἀργείοισιν ὑπέρμορα νόστος ἐτύχθη, / εἰ μὴ Ἀθηναίην Ἥρη πρὸς μῦθον ἔειπεν· (Il. 2. 155–6); see Morrison (1992) 40.

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The Iliad  77 Menelaus seeks out Nestor, apparently by himself, although Agamemnon takes credit for the expedition in the Odyssey (Cyp. frr. 16–17; cf. Od. 24. 115–17). The allegation of Menelaus’ sluggishness stands in ironic contrast not only with its context in Book 10 but with the Iliad overall and the larger epic tradition. Nestor’s remarks, therefore, are consistent with the Iliadic depiction of Menelaus as a man who is plagued by his poor reputation.262 Agamemnon ac­know­ledges the allegation but corrects it, exonerating Menelaus in the present instance. ὦ γέρον, ἄλλοτε μέν σε καὶ αἰτιάασθαι ἄνωγα· πολλάκι γὰρ μεθίει τε καὶ οὐκ ἐθέλει πονέεσθαι, οὔτ’ ὄκνωι εἴκων οὔτ’ ἀφραδίηισι νόοιο, ἀλλ’ ἐμέ τ’ εἰσορόων καὶ ἐμὴν ποτιδέγμενος ὁρμήν· νῦν δ’ ἐμέο πρότερος μάλ’ ἐπέγρετο καί μοι ἐπέστη. (10. 120–4) Sir, on another occasion I too would encourage you to blame [him]. For often he holds back and does not wish to toil; he yields, though, not out of hesitation or thoughtlessness but because he looks to me and awaits my initiative. But in this instance he was up much earlier than me and came to me [first].

Agamemnon agrees that Menelaus often (πολλάκι 10. 121) has seemed to be dilatory, as Nestor has assumed, but corrects the implicit imputation of cowardice or folly. Menelaus does not hold back due to hesitation or witlessness (ἀφραδίηισι νόοιο, 122). He yields (μεθίει) because he looks to his brother and allows him to take the lead (123).263 The poet of Book 10 emphasizes Menelaus’ pliancy, especially with respect to his brother (ἐπέτρεψεν πονέεσθαι 116; πολλάκι γὰρ μεθίει τε καὶ οὐκ ἐθέλει πονέεσθαι 121), and draws a connection between it and his sympathy for his brother. The exchange invites the audience to distinguish between Menelaus’ character as displayed in the Iliad and his poor reputation. Agamemnon corrects the prior allegation of folly (Il. 7. 109–10). Still, when it comes to choosing a companion for the exploit Agamemnon pointedly orders Diomedes to choose the best man, not necessarily the one of highest rank (10. 237–9).264 The narrator confirms

262  Cf. Sammons (2009b) 34–7. 263  On Agamemnon’s role as leader of the Achaean army, Rousseau (1990) esp. 334–7. 264  Cf. Sammons (2009a) 177–83.

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78  Menelaus in the Archaic Period our suspicion as to what Agamemnon had in mind. Agamemnon was afraid on Menelaus’ account: ἔδδεισεν δὲ περὶ ξανθῶι Μενελάωι (240).265 Excluded from the treacherous exploit in the Iliadic Book 10, Menelaus makes a brief but telling appearance on the battlefield in Book 11 that nicely demonstrates Homer’s technique of composing specific and unique characters through typical formulae and motifs. Menelaus is the first Achaean to notice that Odysseus is wounded by Socus (11. 456–63). A formulaic expression (τρὶς μὲν ἔπειτ᾽ ἤϋσεν, . . . / τρὶς δ᾽ ἄϊεν ἰάχοντος 462–3) introduces a typical rescue scene composed from the traditional narrative pattern of threes (‘three times . . . three times’).266 Menelaus speaks, and behaves, very much in character. It is he who hears Odysseus’ cry (τρὶς δ᾽ ἄϊεν ἰάχοντος ἀρηΐφιλος Μενέλαος 463) and seeks out Ajax’s help first (464), articulating his own emotions—fear and sorrow—out of concern for his comrade’s safety. ἀλλ᾽ ἴομεν καθ᾽ ὅμιλον· ἀλεξέμεναι γὰρ ἄμεινον. δείδω μή τι πάθησιν ἐνὶ Τρώεσσι μονωθείς ἐσθλὸς ἐών, μεγάλη δὲ ποθὴ Δαναοῖσι γένηται. ὣς εἰπὼν ὃ μὲν ἦρχ᾽, ὃ δ᾽ ἅμ᾽ ἔσπετο ἰσόθεος φώς. (11. 469–72) ‘Come, let us go into the fray. For it is better to come to his defence. I fear lest, being alone among the Trojans, he may suffer some evil—excellent though he is, and a great longing beset the Danaans.’ Having spoken thus he led the way, and he [Ajax] followed, a man like a god.

The motif is traditional, but it is the first of three such battlefield rescue episodes in which Menelaus takes part. Menelaus participates in a similar battle­ field sequence with Ajax and Antilochus in Book 15 (15. 539–71) that appears again, further expanded, in Book 17. A number of typical elements recur: Menelaus’ noticing of a fallen warrior and rushing to his side, seeking aid from Ajax, summoning Antilochus, and escorting the fallen warrior off the field. Here Menelaus is able to lead the wounded but very much alive Odysseus by the hand (11. 487–8) whereas in the later iteration of the theme he will carry the corpse off the field as Ajax fends off the Trojans (cf. 17. 717–19).267 265  Cf. Hainsworth (1993) 176; Sammons (2009b) 40–3. Given the responsiveness of the formula to its environment the exclusion of Menelaus might have motivated the poet’s choice of their shared epithet for Diomedes, τοῖς δ᾽ αὖτις μετέειπε βοὴν ἀγαθὸς Διομήδης (Il. 10. 241). 266  Cf. Fenik (1968) 105; Kelly (2007) 194–7. 267  See Fenik (1968) for discussion of the ‘doublet’ episodes (98–111). Hainsworth (1993) 275 comments that Menelaus’ assistance to the fallen Odysseus is ‘a miniature of the action in Book 17’.

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The Iliad  79

Act 2 (Iliad 13) Egbert Bakker comments that during the ‘long battle day’ (Il. 11–18) the focal point of the conflict between the Trojans and Achaeans is transferred from Paris-Menelaus to Hector-Achilles.268 More so than Paris, Menelaus remains a pivotal figure in the transition, culminating in the defence of Patroclus in Book 17. Menelaus thus takes centre stage again in Book 13 as the Achaean fortunes continue to decline. Many of the Achaean leaders are wounded and the Trojans have breached the Achaean wall. A chain of killings ensues that culminate in the tellingly named Harpalion’s unsuccessful attack on Menelaus (13. 643–9).269 Earlier on, Menelaus has been introduced with an entrance formula that highlights his emotional response (Ἀτρείδην δ᾽ ἄχος εἷλε 581) as he steps to the battle front and engages in a typical defence-of-body motif, challenging Helenus to avenge the fallen Deipyrus (582–3; cf. 5. 561).270 It is a third frustrated attempt by Menelaus to slay one of the sons of Priam (cf. 3. 369–80; 7. 101–21). Menelaus wounds Helenus, however, before the Trojans close in (582–96). Helenus’ shot at Menelaus, unlike Pandarus’, fails to pierce the armour.271 ὡς δ’ ὅτ’ ἀπὸ πλατέος πτυόφιν μεγάλην κατ’ ἀλωήν θρώισκωσιν κύαμοι μελανόχροες ἠ’ ἐρέβινθοι πνοιῆι ὕπο λιγυρῆι καὶ λικμητῆρος ἐρωῆι, ὣς ἀπὸ θώρηκος Μενελάου κυδαλίμοιο πολλὸν ἀποπλαγχθεὶς ἑκὰς ἔπτατο πικρὸς ὀϊστός. (13. 588–92) Just as when dark-skinned beans or chickpeas spring off the broad blade of a winnowing fan, [carried] across the great threshing floor by a light breeze and the thrust of the winnower, so the piercing arrow was driven aside from the chestplate of warlike Menelaus and flew far off.

Helenus’ arrow glances off Menelaus’ armour like pulses from a winnowing fan. Menelaus’ steadfastness makes the arrows seem little more dangerous than common beans; the fierceness of combat is likened to a homely agricultural scene. The attention of the audience is transfixed by the 268  Bakker (2017) 73. 269  Harpalion, in turn, will be killed by Meriones and avenged by Paris (Il. 13. 660–2). 270  West (2011) 282; cf. Louden (2006) 96, 187–93; Fenno (2008) 154. 271 Cf. Hutchinson (2017) 152–5 on the range and variation in the description of the weaponry.

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80  Menelaus in the Archaic Period unexpectedness of the image in its context: ‘beans, chickpeas, a winnowing fan, and a winnower are surprises, and the graphic image of the beans and chickpeas leaping off the fan both defamiliarizes and contrasts with the arrow flying from Menelaus’ breastplate’.272 The vigorous peacetime activity of bean-threshing highlights the importance of the episode for Menelaus and for the war as the Achaeans attempt to fend off the Trojans’ seemingly inexorable advance on the ships. Menelaus, withstanding the missile, is steadfast and heroic even while the homely image of bean-threshing slightly undercuts the danger, and the glory, of the action. A second memorable agricultural simile applied to Menelaus in Book 23, by contrast, emphasizes not steadfastness but pliancy, its quiet tableau of ripening grain exuding peace and calm (23. 597–9).273 Having wounded Helenus Menelaus is met by the seemingly ad hoc Trojan Peisandrus who comes to Helenus’ defence. He lands a blow on Menelaus’ shield but cannot pierce it. ἔσχεθε γὰρ σάκος εὐρύ, κατεκλάσθη δ᾽ ἐνὶ καυλῶι ἔγχος. ὃ δὲ φρεσὶν ἧισι χάρη καὶ ἐέλπετο νίκην Ἀτρείδης . . . . (13. 608–10) For the broad shield held, and the spear was broken at the join; yet he rejoiced in his heart and hoped for victory, the son of Atreus. Alliterative effects enhance the drama of the encounter (cf. σχ-, σακ-, -κλασθ, κ-, -χ, 13. 608–9). Menelaus’ shield holds fast and Peisandrus attacks in vain. Menelaus’ victory is crowned by a poetically marked phantasma, as he knocks Peisandrus’ eyes right out of his head (616–18).274 The extensive development of the episode prepares for what is to come.275

Menelaus turns from the gory victory to utter an apologia (13. 620–39).276 Menelaus’ voice is stronger in this speech than nearly anywhere else in the Iliad and has elicited divergent scholarly responses.277 The exceptional 272  Hutchinson (2017) 161. 273  Hutchinson (2017) 160–1. 274  See Fenik (1968) 145, cf. 61–2; Janko (1994) 122. 275  Cf. A. Parry (1989) 323–4. 276  For the use of the term (apologia), Davies (2006) 583 (on Agamemnon’s speech before the Achaeans, Il. 19. 78–144), denoting a lengthy speech of self-justification offered by a Homeric hero explaining his reasons for entering into a quarrel. 277  Taplin (1992) called Menelaus’ point of view ‘understandable’, remarking that Menelaus’ attitude ‘might well be taken as the view of warfare which the Iliad implicitly shares with many of its audience: war is evil, but there are times when it is a necessary evil’ (170); cf. Edwards

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The Iliad  81 development and length of the speech reflect its significance and emotional import;278 as the only speech to be delivered for several hundred verses it ‘gains weight from its isolation as well as its content’.279 Menelaus locates his personal victory over Peisandrus in the larger context of the eventual Achaean victory over the Trojans.280 The battlefield setting of the speech is conventional and the speech-type traditional, a rebuke.281 Yet the victory Menelaus achieves prior to the speech is specially marked by the simile and phantasma discussed above. As to its sentiments, there is no other speech quite like it in the Iliad. Menelaus here utters the fullest and most direct justification to be found in the Iliad for the Trojan War. The poet would seem to have isolated the speech, and highlighted the episode, for the purpose. He has adapted a typ­ical battlefield-harangue to the unique personality of Menelaus and his perspective on the war. In a typical battlefield rebuke a warrior addresses a single individual; here, Menelaus addresses the entire Trojan army.282 Its numerous ‘late’ features seem to have been chosen by Homer for their expressive potential.283 And no other Achaean in the poem, apart from Achilles, is granted the opportunity to ‘express [so] fully’ his opinions.284 λείψετέ θην οὕτω γε νέας Δαναῶν ταχυπώλων,   620 Τρῶες ὑπερφίαλοι, δεινῆς ἀκόρητοι ἀϋτῆς. ἄλλης μὲν λώβης τε καὶ αἴσχεος οὐκ ἐπιδευεῖς, ἣν ἐμὲ λωβήσασθε, κακαὶ κύνες, οὐδέ τι θυμῶι Ζηνὸς ἐριβρεμέτεω χαλεπὴν ἐδδείσατε μῆνιν ξεινίου, ὅς τέ ποτ’ ὔμμι διαφθέρσει πόλιν αἰπήν·   625 οἵ μεο κουριδίην ἄλοχον καὶ κτήματα πολλά μὰψ οἴχεσθ’ ἀνάγοντες, ἐπεὶ φιλέεσθε παρ’ αὐτῆι· νῦν αὖτ’ ἐν νηυσὶν μενεαίνετε ποντοπόροισιν πῦρ ὀλοὸν βαλέειν, κτεῖναι δ’ ἥρωας Ἀχαιούς.

(1991) 65; Richardson (1993) 234; Janko (1994) 123–4. Differently, Fenik (1986) ‘a fatuous tantrum from start to finish, feeble in conception and long-winded’ (42). 278  Austin (1966) 306; Mackay (2001) 11–12. 279  Janko (1994) 122. 280  Michel (1971) 110. 281  Cf. Fenik (1968) 146–7. 282  Fenik (1968) 134–5. 283  Thus Finkelberg (2012) 94–5, noting novel dialectal, formular, and religious features; cf. Janko (1994) 122–5, responding to analysts who considered the speech inauthentic and/or ‘late’ (Shipp [19722] 282). Fenik (1968) considered the speech ‘authentic’ but ‘curious’ (‘a particularly unsuccessful example of the “expansion technique” ’) (147). 284  de Jong (20042) 151; cf. Finkelberg (2012) 93.

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82  Menelaus in the Archaic Period ἀλλά ποθι σχήσεσθε καὶ ἐσσύμενοί περ ἄρηος.    630 Ζεῦ πάτερ, ἦ τέ σέ φασι περὶ φρένας ἔμμεναι ἄλλων ἀνδρῶν ἠδὲ θεῶν· σέο δ’ ἒκ τάδε πάντα πέλονται, οἷον δὴ ἄνδρεσσι χαρίζεαι ὑβριστῆισιν, Τρωσίν, τῶν μένος αἰὲν ἀτάσθαλον, οὐδὲ δύνανται φυλόπιδος κορέσασθαι ὁμοιΐοο πτολέμοιο.      635 πάντων μὲν κόρος ἐστί, καὶ ὕπνου καὶ φιλότητος μολπῆς τε γλυκερῆς καὶ ἀμύμονος ὀρχηθμοῖο· τῶν πέρ τις καὶ μάλλον ἐέλδεται ἐξ ἔρον εἷναι ἢ πολέμου. Τρῶες δὲ μάχης ἀκόρητοι ἔασιν. (13. 620–39) You will surely leave the ships of the swift-horsed Danaans, haughty Trojans, insatiate of the fearsome din of battle. You have not left out any outrage or insult, evil bitches, in the outrages you have committed against me, and you have not at all feared in your heart the heavy wrath of thundering Zeus, protector of hospitality, who will indeed one day utterly destroy your steep city. You who wantonly went off, taking my wedded wife and many possessions, when you had been welcomed by her with kindness. And now in turn you strive to set destructive fire to our seafaring ships, and to kill the Achaean warriors. But at some point you will be stopped, however eager you are for warfare. Father Zeus, they do say that you surpass all others, men and gods, in intelligence. But all of this is from you: how you favour shameless men, the Trojans, whose spirit is ever reckless, and they are not able to get enough of the strife of bitter warfare. There is satiety in all things, sleep and lovemaking and sweet song and blameless dance. One would more hope to have his fill of these [things] than war. But the Trojans are insatiate of battle.

Menelaus touches off the harangue with an allusion to the eventual course of the war, predicting that the Trojans eventually will be driven back from the ships (13. 620, cf. 630). He addresses the Trojans with the vocative formula Τρῶες ὑπερφίαλοι (621). The epithet connotes ‘violation’ of the norms of gods and men. In the Iliad, the plural form most often modifies the Trojans; in the Odyssey it connotes violation of hospitality and usually describes the suitors.285 The notion is particularly important to Menelaus.286 The description 285  See Heath (2005) 533 with further bibliography at 531. 286  For the point of view implicit in the formula (Τρώες ὑπερφίαλοι), cf. Heath (2005) 533; Finkelberg (2012) 89 with n. 17 (that of the character); differently, M. Parry (1971) 159; Sale (1989) 377–8; Friedrich (2007) 108–9 (that of the narrator or poet); on the narratological technique (implicit embedded focalization), de Jong (20042) 118–23.

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The Iliad  83 of Trojans as ὑπερφίαλοι makes its first appearance in Menelaus’ speech in Book 3 when he insists that Priam’s sons, ὑπερφίαλοι and untrustworthy as they are, might violate the treaty (3. 105–7). ὑπερφίαλος, as Menelaus uses it, expresses more generally what is most hateful to him: the violation of hospitality and the violation of oaths. The two constitutive norms of Homeric society are his especial concern in the Iliad.287 Menelaus has been morally humiliated by the violation of his hospitality by Paris (re-enacted in the duel) and physically wounded by the Trojans’ violation of their treaty (by the shot of Pandarus). Whereas Menelaus earlier considered only the sons of Priam ὑπερφίαλοι, he now states that all Trojans are like this.288 He will return to the theme in his final speech of the poem, yielding to Antilochus in their quarrel because he is determined that he at least should never be considered ὑπερφίαλος καὶ ἀπηνής (23. 611, below p. 115). The larger theme is the Trojans’ thoroughgoing moral turpitude. Menelaus calls them ‘evil bitches’ (κακαὶ κύνες 13. 623), an exceptionally strong insult that betrays a vulgar, if not misogynistic, streak (cf. Il. 7. 96). In addition to injustice (cf. 13. 627) the Trojans display every kind of excess: wantonness (ἄνδρεσσι . . . ὑβριστῆισιν, / Τρωσίν 633–4);289 an unyielding spirit (τῶν μένος αἰὲν ἀτάσθαλον 634); outrage and disgrace (λώβης τε καὶ αἴσχεος οὐκ ἐπιδευεῖς 622); and especially persistence in fighting. The Trojans are insatiate of battle (δεινῆς ἀκόρητοι ἀϋτῆς 621); they cannot be sated with fighting (634–5).290 Trojan battle-lust rages strong in the present battlefield context, of course, for the Achaeans are losing ground to the Trojans. Menelaus represents the Trojans’ successes, however, as a direct personal insult against himself. The Trojans have not failed to commit any possible outrage or humiliation (13. 622) against him personally (ἣν ἐμὲ λωβήσασθε 623). From the same excess arose the specific crime, the violation of hospitality by absconding with his wife (οἵ μεο κουριδίην ἄλοχον 626).291 Menelaus reminds the Trojans 287  Rousseau (1990) interprets Menelaus’ concern for justice and the law in post-structural terms: Menelaus as the ‘lawgiver’ while Agamemnon fulfils the ‘kingly’ function as commander of the Achaean army (esp. 347–54). 288  Achilles picks up the theme in Book 21 (224; cf. 414, 459). 289  Cf. the formula ὑβρίζοντες ἀτάσθαλα μηχανόωντο (e.g. Il. 11. 695); ὑβριστής is unique in the Iliad (Janko [1994] 125). 290  To Menelaus, the notion that the Trojans should be victorious is, to borrow the words of the pirate Vizzini (in the [1987] film The Princess Bride), ‘inconceivable!’; cf. Michel (1971) 112 (‘völlig unbegreiflich’). 291  The owner of this ‘vast wealth’ (κτήματα πολλά 626) is left unspecified and the hospitality enjoyed by the Trojans was ‘hers’ (627); but cf. Menelaus’ earlier complaint to Zeus that he had provided them guest-friendship (Il. 3. 351–2, 354).

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84  Menelaus in the Archaic Period (iron­ic­al­ly, given Zeus’ promise to Thetis) that Zeus is on his side. The Trojans’ violation of hospitality has offended Zeus—who is uniquely for Menelaus, in the Iliad, Zeus xenios (624–5).292 On the basis of his special protection Menelaus confidently predicts that the Trojans will be stopped (630) and that Zeus will guarantee the fall of Troy (625, 630).293 Whereas earlier in the poem Menelaus was willing to accept a lesser penalty he now envisions the complete ruin of the city, and the Trojans will bear full responsibility for the calamity due to their stubborn persistence in fighting.294 Menelaus enjoys the singular privilege (among mortals) of directly rebuking Zeus almost as an equal (13. 631–4).295 The tone is even more strident than it had previously been, in the opening duel (3. 365–8).296 There, too, Menelaus called on Zeus with the vocative formula ‘Father Zeus’ (Ζεῦ πάτερ, 3. 365). As before, Menelaus follows the title not with the humble entreaty one would expect in a kletic request, but with indignation. Menelaus scornfully questions Zeus’ reputation for surpassing intelligence (13. 631–2) in an expansion of a single-verse formula elsewhere found in Hector’s rebuke to Glaucus (ἦ τ’ ἐφάμην σε περὶ φρένας ἔμμεναι ἄλλων 17. 171).297 Menelaus speaks in similar terms to Zeus, moreover, as he later uses for his younger companion Antilochus for cheating in the chariot-race: Ἀντίλοχ’, οὔ τις σεῖο βροτῶν ὀλοώτερος ἄλλος (23. 439; cf. 3. 365). Even Achilles, son of the immortal Thetis, dares to rebuke the gods in this manner only once (θεῶν ὀλοώτατε πάντων 22. 15)—and that god is Apollo, not Zeus κύδιστος μέγιστος (e.g. 2. 412). In effect what Menelaus complains about in Zeus is his failure to live up to his expected role as protector of oaths and hospitality (13. 624–5; cf. 3. 353–4).298 Menelaus concludes the apologia with a priamel (πάντων μὲν κόρος . . . καὶ ὕπνου καὶ φιλότητος / μολπῆς τε γλυκερῆς καὶ ἀμύμονος ὀρχηθμοῖο· . . . . Τρῶες

292 This is the only explicit mention in the poem that Zeus qua xenios will punish the Trojans (West [2011] 282); Menelaus is speaker or auditor in the other two speeches in which the idea is implied (Il. 3. 351–4; 4. 160–8). For NT parallels for Paris’ violation of Menelaus’ hospitality, Louden (2006) 192–3. 293  Lloyd-Jones (19832) 7–8. 294  The Trojans have violated a truce (Book 4), persisted in fighting and now threaten the Achaeans at their ships (620, 628–9). 295  Cf. Asius’ complaint (. . . ἀλαστήσας ἔπος ηὔδα· / Ζεῦ πάτερ, ἦ ῥά νυ καὶ σὺ φιλοψευδὴς ἐτέτυξο / πάγχυ μάλ᾽ . . ., Il. 12. 163–5); Kirk (1985) 111. 296  Janko (1994) 125, downplaying the bitterness of the remarks, calls Menelaus’ tone in Book 13 ‘tactful but aggrieved’; cf. ΣbT ad loc.; Hohendahl-Zoetelief (1980) 152–3. 297  Agamemnon’s complaint about Zeus in Book 19 is similar but is not addressed to him (τόν περ ἄριστον / ἀνδρῶν ἠδὲ θεῶν φασ’ ἔμμεναι· Il. 19. 95–6). 298  Cf. Lloyd-Jones (19832) 5.

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The Iliad  85 δὲ μάχης ἀκόρητοι ἔασιν (13. 636–7, 639).299 The priamel may even have been famous enough in the classical period for Aristophanes to compose a parody (Ar. Pl. 188–93).300 Menelaus’ priamel summarizes the theme of the apologia, Trojan excess manifested in persistence in fighting. Unlike all other men with respect to much greater goods: sleep, lovemaking, sweet song, and dance (636–7), the Trojans are insatiate of battle (639).301 Far from ‘an oddity’ the sentiments are in character for Homer’s Menelaus.302 Menelaus’ fluency and persuasiveness, as remembered by Antenor in Book 3 (3. 213–14), were expended in hopes of regaining Helen by means of diplomacy rather than warfare. Nearly ten years have elapsed since then; and much has transpired in the ten intervening books since Homer re-staged the original dispute in Book 3. Since then, Menelaus’ view on Trojan shamelessness and guilt has changed somewhat. No longer are the sons of Priam the only Trojans who are arrogant and untrustworthy transgressors (3. 106–7). Pandarus son of Lycaon showed himself to be treacherous, breaking the truce (4. 97). Agamemnon claimed at the time, with good reason, that all Trojans were implicated in the crime (157–9); the narrator reports that the Trojans concealed the would-be assassin with their shields (113–15). Agamemnon persuaded Menelaus against exercising clemency with Adrestus with a pointed reminder of the Trojans’ violation of his hospitality (ἦ σοὶ ἄριστα πεποίηται κατὰ οἶκον / πρὸς Τρώων; 6. 56–7).303 Menelaus still had hoped to bring the war to a conclusion in Book 7 by means of a duel against Hector. Yet since that point the Trojans have advanced on the Greeks, killed or wounded many of their commanders, and now are seeking to set fire to the ships (13. 628–9). Their implacable fighting seems to have led Menelaus to finally conclude what Agamemnon already had in Book 4, that all Trojans are wanton (13. 621; cf. 4. 164–8); all have outraged him

299  Fenik (1968) does not do it justice, considering it an ‘inept list’ (147); cf. Race (1982); Janko (1994) 123. 300  Chremylus cleverly re-writes the priamel and turns it into a capping game with Carion: ‘wealth’ becomes the one thing of which no one at all can ever have enough (189) with comic elements interpolated into Menelaus’ list. Ar.’s priamel recalls the theme of Theogn. 699–718 (‘wealth’ is the best thing) but the list recalls Homer; see Race (1982) 57–9; Faraone (2005) 253–6. 301  Fenik quotes approvingly the dismissive statement of Leaf that ‘to be unwearied in battle is not a reproach, nor is success in battle a sign of ὕβρις’ (Fenik [1968] 147). ‘Success in battle’ is not really what Menelaus is talking about and the sentiments make good sense from Menelaus’ point of view. 302  Cf. Fenik (1968) 147. 303  Agamemnon does not even mention the recent treachery of Paris or Pandarus; cf. Scodel (2008) 83–4.

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86  Menelaus in the Archaic Period (13. 622–3) and shown no fear of the god of hospitality (624–5).304 Their city will accordingly be destroyed (13. 624–5, 630). Menelaus does not err in the prediction, and we may recall what Antenor has said of him, οὐδ᾽ ἀφαμαρτοεπής (3. 215). Menelaus articulates the narrative trajectory of the poem and eventual course of the war even to the fall of Troy.305 The Trojan War is a personal matter for Menelaus. His seemingly in­vin­ cible conviction that he is in the right, and that the gods are on his side, are examples of the sort of hubris that gets heroes into trouble in Athenian tra­ gedy. Yet Menelaus’ seemingly extravagant claims upon the gods’ protection are consistently (albeit only provisionally) ratified by them. The greatest display of divine patronage is still to come at the defence of Patroclus (pp. 95–7). When Menelaus complains that Athena has not sufficiently helped him, she smiles ‘because he prayed to her first among the gods’ (17. 567–8), and so fully grants his request that even Hector trembles before him (586–8).

Entr’actes Homer prepares the way for the climax of Menelaus’ story with several brief appearances achieving decisive kills in battle (cf. 14. 516–19 [Hyperenor]; 16. 311–12 [Thoas]). A lengthier episode in Book 15 expands on the rescueof-corpse type-scene in Book 11 (462–88) discussed above (p. 78), the second in a series of three such scenes culminating in the rescue of the corpse of Patroclus and highlighting the friendship of Menelaus and Antilochus (15. 539–91; cf. 16. 317–19).306 This second iteration of the motif in which Menelaus and Ajax join together to face Hector in a fight over the arms of a fallen man prepares closely for the third (cf. 17. 651–744). Both of the episodes culminate in the summons of Antilochus (15. 569–71; 17. 684–93). The narrative context is, as in Book 13, a chain reaction of reciprocal slayings between the Trojans and the Greeks (15. 515–91). The somewhat obscure Achaean Meges (cf. 15. 302) knocks off the helmet of Dolops cousin 304 Fenik (1968) commented on the unparalleled sentiments present both in Menelaus’ criticism of the Trojans for failing to yield in battle and his speech to Euphorbus in Book 17 (19–24); he considered both ‘inappropriate in the same way’ for rebuking the enemy ‘in a most complimentary manner’ (162) that is unparalleled elsewhere in the poem; cf. 146–7. 305  Beginning with the peripeteia of the Wrath with Zeus’ dialogue with Hera (15. 36–77), the poet foreshadows the return of Achilles and the death of Hector (15. 65–8); cf. Schadewaldt (19663) 110–11; Janko (1994) 225–6; 228–9, 234–5. 306  Cf. A. Parry (1989) 321–2; Willcock (1973) 7–8, (1983) 480–1, (1987) 189–91, (2002); cf. Janko (1994) 290; Richardson (1993) 208, 235.

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The Iliad  87 of Hector but is apparently unable to complete the kill.307 Dolops still hopes, foolishly, for victory (539), rather like Menelaus’ earlier victim Peisandrus (13. 609).308 Menelaus moves in, otherwise unnoticed (τόφρα δέ οἱ Μενέλαος ἀρήϊος ἦλθεν ἀμύντωρ, / στῆ δ᾽ εὐρὰξ σὺν δουρὶ λαθών, βάλε δ᾽ ὦμον ὄπισθεν· 15. 540–1).309 He slays Dolops and attempts to strip the armour but draws the attention of Hector (544–5) so that Ajax comes to his aid (560). Hector summons his relatives (κασιγνήτοισι κέλευσεν / 545) and Ajax his friends (ὦ φίλοι . . . 561). Once Hector and Ajax have mustered for the fight over Dolops, Menelaus summons Antilochus (15. 569–71). As Ajax fends off Hector, Menelaus approaches Antilochus and addresses him with evident fondness. Menelaus uses a pair of negative phrases to make the positive statement that Antilochus is unparalleled in battle.310 Ἀντίλοχ᾽, οὔ τις σεῖο νεώτερος ἄλλος Ἀχαιῶν, οὔτε ποσὶν θάσσων οὔτ᾽ ἄλκιμος ὡς σὺ μάχεσθαι (15. 569–70) Antilochus, there is no one younger than you among the Achaeans, nor swifter of foot nor as courageous as you in battle.

In Book 17 Menelaus will again address Antilochus in gracious, friendly terms, though the news in that instance is grave (685–6). Antilochus is well suited to bring news to Achilles in part because (as we are told here) he is the fastest runner: the youngest of the Achaeans but the swiftest of foot and stoutest in battle.311 The brief exchange between Menelaus and Antilochus, like the other elem­ents of the scene, is a characteristic piece of the larger story Homer wishes to tell. Menelaus’ complimentary words to Antilochus, Ἀντίλοχ᾽, οὔ τις σεῖο νεώτερος ἄλλος Ἀχαιῶν (569) are formally close to his outraged address to Zeus (Ζεῦ πάτερ, οὔ τις σεῖο θεῶν ὀλοώτερος ἄλλος 3. 365). At the same time the speech anticipates the dispute and reconciliation between the two men at the Funeral Games (23. 439–40).

307  Marked by the narrator as a high-ranking victim by his lineage (525–7) and that of the armour (528–34); Janko (1994) 285–6; cf. West (2011) 309. 308  καὶ ἐέλπετο νίκην (Il. 13. 609) ~ ἔτι δ᾽ ἤλπετο νίκην (15. 539), cf. Janko (1994) 286–8. 309 Cf. Il. 2. 408–9; cf. Athena’s unswerving attention to him when he is wounded (4. 127–8). 310 Cf. Il. 5. 565–7; 13. 545–59. 311  Antilochus’ swiftness calls to mind ‘swift-footed Achilles’; on Achilles-doublets, Nickel (2002) 221–8; Fenno (2008) with further bibliography at 155 n. 34.

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88  Menelaus in the Archaic Period

Act 3: The Aristeia of Menelaus (Iliad 17) Book 17 marks a decisive turning point in the Iliad and in the war.312 As the episode opens Patroclus lies dead on the battlefield, struck down by Hector after assaults by Apollo and Euphorbus (16. 788–850). The Trojans, in possession of the arms of Achilles, are intent on securing possession of the corpse. They will be unsuccessful due to the decisive intervention of Menelaus who, at the book’s end, will begin to carry it off with Meriones as Ajax fends off the Trojans (17. 722–36). Though to one commentator Book 17 ‘seems to be composed of many scenes that do not appear to be tightly organized’313 most of the action centres around the corpse and Menelaus. The book has rightly been known since antiquity as the ΑΡΙΣΤΕΙΑ ΜΕΝΕΛΑΟΥ.314 It forms the climax of Menelaus’ story and he has the starring role.315 ‘Le dixseptième chant dans son ensemble peut être désigné comme l’aristie de Ménélas parce que c’est à ce moment du récit que les attributs, les caractéristiques fonctionelles du héros interviennent de façon décisive dans le développement de l’intrigue’.316 Fenik showed that much of Book 17, like the other battle books, is constructed from a typical battlefield sequence (Trojan attack, Greek defence, withdrawal and counter-attack) that essentially is repeated four times in the book (17. 83–128, 233–78, 333–56, 591–626).317 Homer expands these trad­itional elements on a grand scale in Book 17 even while alluding intratextually to other Iliadic instances of action or speech for the portrayal of character. Menelaus, leading the defence, leaves the corpse of Patroclus only to summon assistance. First, seeking Ajax (17. 120–2) due to the approach of Hector and Apollo (70–89); his withdrawal occurs only after much anguished deliberation (91–105). Menelaus swiftly returns, moreover, and remains at the battle front for much of the remainder of the episode (cf. Ἀτρείδης δ᾽ ἑτέρωθεν, ἀρηΐφιλος Μενέλαος, / ἑστήκει 138–9).

312  The apparent dominance of the Trojans over the Achaeans that has obtained since the renewal of hostilities in Book 4 ends, and the armies come to a standstill over the body of Patroclus. The leading Achaeans have been wounded in Book 11 (Agamemnon, Il. 11. 251–83; Diomedes, 369–400; Odysseus 434–88), even though the Trojans still have suffered heavier casualties overall, Lang (1995) 150. 313  Scott (2009) 130. 314  Cf. Willcock (2002) 221. 315  Cf. Barck (1971) esp. 12, 17; Rousseau (1990) 328–9, 341–2; Edwards (1991) 62–3; Willcock, esp. (2002); cf. Willcock (1983) 481, (1987) 189–91; Willcock (2004) 52–3; Louden (2006) 109. On Book 17,  Schadewaldt (19654) 234–5; Fenik (1968) 159–89; Edwards (1991) 61–2; Nickel (2002); Burgess (2005). 316  Rousseau (1990) 341. 317  Fenik (1968) 159.

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The Iliad  89 The ‘summoning assistance’ pattern repeats three times and reflects the increasing level of threat: Ajax (120–2); the other Achaeans (248–55); and finally Antilochus, who will go to Achilles (685–93). In these retreat-forsummons motifs, as at other critical points in the poem, Menelaus’ reputation is a consistent theme. And in spite of his anxiety on the score, Menelaus, keen on battle, proves worthy of his epithet (ἀρηΐφιλος).318 ‘No other combat over a slain man is drawn out to such length . . . for the duration of the battle reflects the importance of the person over whom the fighting is taking place’.319 Patroclus’ importance arises from his relation to Achilles, who must re-enter the war if the Achaeans are to be victorious; and as Whitman observed, with the return of Achilles to the battlefield, ‘the far-flung action of the Iliad begins to narrow to a single course’.320 What happens in Book 17 thus is vitally important for the larger story Homer has to tell and Achilles’ presence is strongly felt throughout.321 Richard Martin even suggests that Achilles provides the focalization of Patroclus’ death.322 Yet it is Menelaus, not Achilles, who notices the fallen man.323 οὐδ’ ἔλαθ’ Ἀτρέος υἱόν, ἀρηΐφιλον Μενέλαον, Πάτροκλος Τρώεσσι δαμεὶς ἐν δηϊοτῆτι, βῆ δὲ διὰ προμάχων κεκορυθμένος αἴθοπι χαλκῶι, ἀμφὶ δ᾽ ἄρ᾽ αὐτῶι βαῖν᾽ . . . . (Il. 17. 1–4) He did not escape the notice of the son of Atreus, warlike Menelaus, Patroclus, struck down by the Trojans in battle. He strode through the foremost fighters, in gleaming bronze helmet, and stood over him.

Just as in Menelaus’ first major appearance in the poem the narrator adopts his point of view in the opening tableau (cf. 3. 21–8).324 The negated verb λανθάνω (17. 1) highlights Menelaus’ perception of the momentous event; similarly, on previous occasions he ‘noticed’ Paris (3. 21–2) and heard the wounded Odysseus’ cry (11. 463). The repetition of the typical motif (‘noticing’) reveals Menelaus’ perception and sympathy.325 Menelaus is tellingly named 318  Cf. Hohendahl-Zoetelief (1980) 143–5. 319  Fenik (1968) 159; cf. Edwards (1987) 49. 320  Whitman (1958) 137. 321  Schadewaldt (19654) 242; cf. Edwards (1991) 61–2; Scott (2009) 149, 150. 322  Martin (1989) 236; cf. Mueller (1984) 52 (the audience ‘stands in’ for Achilles as witness to Patroclus’ death). 323  Cf. de Jong (2009) 94 n. 17. 324  Cf. Mühlestein (1987) 80–2. 325  Cf. Kirk (1990) 119; Edwards (1991) 62.

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90  Menelaus in the Archaic Period ‘son of Atreus’ (Ἀτρέος υἱόν), as he truly is the Atreid leader in command while his brother Agamemnon is conspicuous by his absence.326 The epithet ἀρηΐφιλο[ς] (17. 1) resonates in its context as Menelaus boldly steps forward to fight. An opening tableau follows up the entrance formula with a unique simile and paired speeches, providing a narrative pause that highlights the episode and its participants. Vivid images engage the imagination of the auditor.327 The magnificent ‘Euphorbos plate’ mentioned in the introduction, though perhaps not inspired by the Homeric episode, has in it a fitting counterpart (cf. Cat. 2; Fig. 4.10). The vase will presently be considered in its context; here, we note that the image at the very least suggests that the challenger of Euphorbus caught the attention of the painter as much as he did that of the poet and his audience. The simile in the Homeric tableau is the first in a series that highlights Menelaus and his striking transformation over the course of the book.328 Here Menelaus is compared to a mother cow and Patroclus to her newborn calf, in an image that is both domestic and agricultural (cf. 13. 588–92; 23. 597–9). ἀμφὶ δ’ ἄρ’ αὐτῶι βαῖν’, ὥς τις περὶ πόρτακι μήτηρ πρωτοτόκος κινυρή, οὐ πρὶν εἰδυῖα τόκοιο· ὣς περὶ Πατρόκλωι βαῖνε ξανθὸς Μενέλαος· (17. 3–6) And he stood over him, like a mother cow over her firstborn calf, lowing plaintively, formerly having known nothing of childbirth; thus fair Menelaus stood over Patroclus.

The extraordinary simile expresses Menelaus’ great tenderness.329 The narrator presently confirms what the simile implies, reporting that Menelaus feels ‘great grief ’ for the death of Patroclus (μέγα πένθος ἐνὶ στήθεσσιν ἀέξων 17. 139). The Odyssey-poet, emphasizing the same aspect of Menelaus’ personality, might even have quoted the verse in naming his son (cf. Od. 4. 11).330 Here on the battlefield Menelaus’ emotions at seeing the fallen Patroclus are what Achilles would have felt, had he known. Menelaus soon admonishes Ajax that if they could defend Patroclus’ corpse for Achilles it would be the 326  Cf. Rousseau (1990) 341–3 (proposing that Menelaus plays the part of Agamemnon in Book 17). 327  Cf. Hutchinson (2017) 162. 328  For ‘massed’ similes, Scott (2009) 153; Ready (2011) 87–107, esp. 90–2; cf. Fenik (1968) 111. 329  Cf. Willcock (2002) 225. 330  I owe this observation to Bruce Louden.

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The Iliad  91 best course in a bad situation (εἴ πως ἐρυσαίμεθα νεκρόν / Πηλείδηι Ἀχιλῆϊ· κακῶν δέ κε φέρτατον εἴη 104–5). He reiterates the im­port­ance of the defence three times further in the book (248–55, 563–4, 669–72). Comparing Menelaus to a first-time mother cow does not increase his stature as a warrior but does not necessarily diminish it, either.331 Menelaus’ compassion, not his valour (or lack thereof) is the point.332 The narrator goes on to allude meaningfully to the traditional referentiality of ἀρηΐφιλον (17. 1) by reporting that Menelaus will take on any opponent (6–8). The first of these is Euphorbus, who had taken the first shot at Patroclus (16. 806–15) and is therefore the one from whom Menelaus must attempt to rescue Patroclus’ corpse and avenge his death (9–11).333 The enemies trade ‘flyting’ rebuke speeches before they fight: Euphorbus threatens (17. 12–17) and Menelaus responds (19–32).334 The exchange of threats, boasts, and insults is common enough on the Homeric battlefield, and much of Euphorbus’ speech is typical. What Menelaus says, on the other hand, is not.335 He sounds his own familiar Iliadic themes, in phrases bearing the hallmarks of his high-flown rhetorical style. Euphorbus’ opening salvo was a direct address to Menelaus, a verse-length apostrophe meant to grab the attention, Ἀτρείδη Μενέλαε διοτρεφές, ὄρχαμε λαῶν (12). Menelaus διοτρεφές, in his response, piously addresses ‘Father Zeus’ (19–46; cf. 3. 365; 13. 631). Aphorisms form a ring around the speech (19, 32), comprising a priamel formed of a triple ‘negative’ simile (20–4) and paradigm (24–8). All this ‘before he deigns to address his opponent directly’ (29).336 Ζεῦ πάτερ, οὐ μὲν καλὸν ὑπέρβιον εὐχετάασθαι. οὔτ᾽ οὖν παρδάλιος τόσσον μένος οὔτε λέοντος οὔτε συὸς κάπρου ὀλοόφρονος, οὗ τε μέγιστος

331  Cf. Scott (2009) 145–55. 332 Cf. ΣbT ad 17. 1; Edwards (1991) 63; cf. Scott (2009) 55–6; Ready (2011) 184–7, 198–201, considering the argument of the simile to be Menelaus’ inadequacy as a warrior. 333 Mühlestein (1987) 78–89 interprets Euphorbus as a probable Homeric invention to ‘stand-in’ for Paris; cf. Kullmann (1960) 181, 316; differently, Nickel (2002). 334  Cf. Fenik (1968) 161–2; Ready (2011) 198–201. 335 ‘Curious’, remarks Fenik (1968) 161; cf. Edwards (1991) 64–5. Menelaus fights near (although he does not himself confront) a third son of Panthous, Poulydamas, in Book 15. With the help of Apollo, Poulydamas avoids death by the hand of Meges (15. 520–2) before Menelaus kills the Trojan Dolops (539–43). Kullmann (1960) 181–2 contrasts the two sons of Panthous killed by Menelaus (Hyperenor and Euphorbus) with Poulydamas, who also appears in Book 11, arguing that the former were Homeric inventions while the latter already existed in the tradition. 336  Edwards (1991) 64.

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92  Menelaus in the Archaic Period θυμὸς ἐνὶ στήθεσσι περὶ σθένεϊ βλεμεαίνει, ὅσσον Πανθόου υἷες ἐϋμμελίαι φορέουσιν. (17. 19–23) Father Zeus, it is not a fine thing to boast haughtily. For not so great is the fury of a panther nor lion nor wild boar bent on destruction, whose spirit most of all exults within his breast over his strength, as that displayed by the spear-bearing sons of Panthous.

The themes of Trojan excess (ὑπέρβιον 19) and the destructive power of anger (20–4) are familiar ones for Menelaus.337 The triple simile, grand enough in itself, forms a priamel and strikes a similar note as the earlier one on moderation and excess. In the former, Menelaus remarks that men tire even of the greatest pleasures, if taken to excess, whereas the Trojans are tireless in seeking battle (13. 636–9). He presently alleges that the μένος displayed even by the most savage beasts (20–2) is nothing compared to that of the sons of Panthous (24). The sons of Panthous exhibit the very excess that is characteristic, in Menelaus’ view, of all Trojans (19).338 Menelaus is anxious about his reputation.339 He reports that Hyperenor had considered him ‘the worst fighter among the Danaans’, καί μ᾽ ἔφατ᾽ ἐν Δαναοῖσιν ἐλέγχιστον πολεμιστήν (17. 26) but soon learned otherwise, to his peril (27–8). Hyperenor, here offered as the paradigm of a warrior who misjudged his opponent, in fact was killed by Menelaus without speaking (14. 516–19).340 The alleged slander, seemingly invented by the poet—or Menelaus himself?—ad hoc, is consistent not with Menelaus as he was shown to be in their encounter in Book 14 but with prior worries about his reputation.341 Apollo, later on in the aristeia, memorably revives the theme (587–8). The problem of Menelaus’ reputation is an integral element in the poet’s ‘mental mould’, provoking the audience to consider how Menelaus ‘is’ as against how he was reputed to be (cf. 15–18). The characterization turns out not to be the simple duality envisaged by Willcock between the martial valour denoted by the epithets and his ‘softness’ in Homer.342 An interplay between the two polarities emerges again and again and is nowhere more evident than in this episode centring on Patroclus’ defence. 337 Adverbial ὑπέρβιος occurs only here in the Iliad (3x in the Od. [12. 379; 14. 92, 95], both with negative connotations); the adjectival form occurs once in the Iliad (Il. 18. 262; cf. Od. 15. 212). 338  Heath (2005) 533. 339  Cf. Hohendahl-Zoetelief (1980) 143–5. 340  Cf. Kelly (2018) 363–4. 341  Cf. Willcock (1977) 13–14; Edwards (1991) 65. 342  Cf. Willcock (2004) 52–3.

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The Iliad  93 As to Hyperenor’s alleged slander, Menelaus warns Euphorbus not to follow his brother’s example (17. 29–32) and soon proves his superiority. He parries Euphorbus’ initial attack (43–5) and, after a second invocation of Zeus (46), wounds ‘the boastful Euphorbus justly in the throat’ (a type of wound unique in the poem), slays him, and strips his armour (47–50).343 The importance of the victory is marked by the embellishments: an especially vivid description of the victim whose gorgeous hair now is bloodied (51–2), a simile comparing him to a young olive tree (οἷον δὲ τρέφει ἔρνος ἀνὴρ ἐριθηλὲς ἐλαίης / χώρωι ἐν οἰοπόλωι . . . 53–4). As he strips Euphorbus of his armour, another simile compares Menelaus to a mountain-reared lion, ‘confident in his strength’ (61). Menelaus was compared to a mother cow less than fifty lines earlier (17. 4–6); now he is transformed rhetorically into her fearsome predator: ὡς δ’ ὅτε τίς τε λέων ὀρεσίτροφος ἀλκὶ πεποιθώς / βοσκομένης ἀγέλης βοῦν ἁρπάσηι, ἥ τις ἀρίστη . . . (61–2).344 The lion inspires such fear that neither dogs nor men dare approach (67). Narrator-text joins the simile in confirming what has already been shown in Menelaus’ deeds, giving the lie to the notion that he is no great warrior. The Trojans are filled with such dread that no one dares to challenge Menelaus (68–9).345 But when Menelaus catches a glimpse of Hector in his terrible might (17. 87–90) he is tempted to flee. He must make the anguished decision whether to continue alone or seek help, expressed in one of the very few true monologues of the poem.346 The poet offers the audience privileged insight into Menelaus’ thoughts and feelings. What is special is how it reveals the very process by which he takes his fateful decision. The audience is invited to deliberate along with him (‘should I stay or should I go’). ὀχθήσας δ᾽ ἄρα εἶπε πρὸς ὃν μεγαλήτορα θυμόν· ὤι μοι ἐγών, εἰ μέν κε λίπω κάτα τεύχεα καλά Πάταροκλόν θ᾽, ὃς κεῖται ἐμῆς ἕνεκ᾽ ἐνθάδε τιμῆς, μή τίς μοι Δαναῶν νεμεσήσεται, ὅς κεν ἴδηται· … ἀλλὰ τίη μοι ταῦτα φίλος διελέξατο θυμός; 343  Edwards (1991) 67. 344  Cf. the lion simile at 3. 23–8, Menelaus’ response to the sight of Paris: the simile is conventional, but the poet has added details that specially characterize Menelaus’ emotions. 345  Cf. Fenik (1968) 182–4. 346  See esp. Fenik (1978); cf. (1968) 96–8; Garcia (2018) 304–5 with further bibliography at 315 n. 1.

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94  Menelaus in the Archaic Period ὁππότ᾽ ἀνὴρ ἐθέληι πρὸς δαίμονα φωτὶ μάχεσθαι ὅν κε θεὸς τιμᾶι, τάχα οἱ μέγα πῆμα κυλίσθη. τώ μ᾽ οὔ τις Δαναῶν νεμεσήσεται (. . . .) (17. 90–100) Vexed, he spoke to his own great-hearted spirit. Woe to me, if I leave behind the fine arms and Patroclus, who lies here for the sake of my honour; I fear that one of the Danaans will blame me, who sees it . . . . But why does my heart debate this with me? Whenever a man, contrary to divine [will], wishes to fight a man whom a god is honouring, great woe straightaway rolls upon him. Therefore no one of the Danaans will blame me (. . . .)

Menelaus betrays the same concern for others and for his reputation as elsewhere in the poem.347 He hesitates to leave Patroclus, more even than the armour, because he is aware that the man was slain ‘for the sake of my honour’ (. . . ὃς κεῖται ἐμῆς ἕνεκ᾽ ἐνθάδε τιμῆς 92). He is acutely aware of the effect his decision might have on his reputation (μή τίς μοι Δαναῶν νεμεσήσεται 93; cf. 100–1) and weighs the matter carefully. Throughout the defence Menelaus repeatedly considers the odds of success (cf. 563–6 [against Hector], 713–14 [to Ajax]).348 Disaster tends to result when a single warrior fights with a god (98–9). Hector is fighting with the help of a god (101); therefore, no one should blame him for seeking Ajax’s help (100–2; cf. 120–2). Fenik determines that Menelaus’ decision to leave the corpse, even though only temporarily, indicts him as a coward.349 But if we remember the rebuke Agamemnon made to Menelaus in Book 7, when Menelaus volunteered to meet Hector in single combat (ἀφραίνεις, Μενέλαε διοτρεφές, οὐδέ τί σε χρή / ταύτης ἀφροσύνης. ἀνὰ δὲ σχέο κηδόμενός περ [7. 109–10]) it would seem that Menelaus has learned his lesson.350 In a notable inversion of the earlier simile Menelaus’ retreat from Hector is compared to a lion fleeing the onslaught of dogs and men unwillingly (17. 109–13, cf. 61–5). The lion of the earlier simile that men and dogs did not dare approach (65–7) here is frightened off its prey (110–2), as in another simile later on (cf. 657–61). As Ajax takes over the defence of Patroclus the poet adds a third simile involving lions and a mother animal (cf. 4–6, 61–9, 109–12). Ajax protecting the corpse is also compared to a mother: 347  Cf. 3. 99–100; 10. 26–8; 23. 607–8; cf. 5. 552–3. 348  Cf. Cairns (2003) 34 n. 103. 349  Fenik (1978) 88: ‘Like Admetus in Euripides’ play, Menelaus has the unfortunate habit of putting things into words that were better left unsaid’; cf. Fenik (1968) 163–5; Scodel (2008) 46. 350  Cf. Willcock (2002) 223.

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The Iliad  95 not a cow but a lion, protecting its young (132–6).351 In the moving verses mentioned above, the narrator reports that Menelaus stands alongside Ajax, filled with grief (Ἀτρείδης δ’ ἑτέρωθεν, ἀρηΐφιλος Μενέλαος, / ἑστήκει, μέγα πένθος ἐνὶ στήθεσσιν ἀέξων 138–9). Menelaus is determined nevertheless to return as soon as possible (17. 103–5, cf. 120–2) and Ajax agrees (238–45). Ajax too considers Hector unstoppable without further assistance from the Achaean army, even by them both (οὐκέτι νῶϊ / ἔλπομαι αὐτώ περ νοστησέμεν ἐκ πολέμοιο 238–9). Ajax is more concerned about preserving himself, and Menelaus, than the corpse of Patroclus and the armour (οὔ τι τόσον νέκυος περιδείδια Πατρόκλοιο, / . . . ὅσσον ἐμῆι κεφαλῆι περιδείδια [. . .] / καὶ σῆι, 240, 242–3).352 They must preserve their own lives, even if that should entail the corpse being ravaged, ὅς κε τάχα Τρώων κορέει κύνας ἠδ᾽ οἰωνούς (242). Ajax’s seeming-unconcern at this most ignominious outcome pointedly contrasts with Menelaus’ single-minded passion for the defence. Menelaus accedes to Ajax’ request to summon the other Achaeans and calls out to them (ὣς ἔφατ᾽· οὐδ᾽ ἀπίθησε βοὴν ἀγαθὸς Μενέλαος, / ἤϋσεν δὲ διαπρύσιον Δαναοῖσι γεγωνώς· 246–7). Menelaus rebukes the Achaeans, reminding them of their obligation and their honour. ἀλλά τις αὐτὸς ἴτω, νεμεσιζέσθω δ᾽ ἐνὶ θυμῶι Πάτροκλον Τρωιῆισι κυσὶν μέλπηθρα γενέσθαι. (17. 254–5) But let each man go, of his own accord, and feel ashamed in his heart [if] Patroclus becomes a plaything for Trojan dogs.

Yamagata comments that ‘Menelaus’ stirring speech, which appeals to his comrades’ sense of shame and is delivered in his “piercing” cry, will duly attract the assistance needed (Il. 17. 247) . . . the image inherent in his epithet is used to give a fitting portrayal of his character’.353 A third ‘rebuke and call-for help’ type-scene takes place at the height of the battle. It is the most extended, carefully composed, and embellished 351  ‘From cow to lion, from defender to aggressor: the continuity and reversal [of the two similes, 17. 4–6, 61–5] make a point. But that is not the end of it, for the string continues . . . . Cows, lions, helpless young: these are the constants in the simile sequence. At the beginning Menelaus is like a cow with her calf; at the end Aias is a lion defending its cubs’, Fenik (1978) 89. 352  Implicitly answered by Menelaus late in the book: he proposes to Ajax that they contrive a plan to carry Patroclus off themselves, not waiting for Achilles to arrive (17. 712–13). 353  Yamagata (2012a) 452.

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96  Menelaus in the Archaic Period such scene of the book, and Menelaus is at its centre.354 Zeus sends Athena into battle to intervene on behalf of the Achaeans (17. 544–6), for he has temporarily changed his mind (546).355 Pucci considers the decision a tactic ‘to increase the bloodbath in honour of Patroclus’.356 But it also is perhaps an indication that the tide is turning, not only in this particular fight, but in the war. The indeterminacy of the outcome is precisely what is at issue: Zeus’ potential return to the Achaean side is implicated in Achilles’ return to battle, and this is by no means a settled matter. A simile, typically enough, compares Athena’s sudden approach to a rainbow, a terrible portent (547–50). But the vehicle of the simile is externalized into the direct narrative as Athena ‘curiously . . . seems actually to assume the appearance of the thing to which she is compared’ (ἠΰτε πορφυρέην ἶριν θνητοῖσι τανύσσηι 547 ~ ὣς ἣ πορφυρέηι νεφέληι πυκάσασα ἕ᾽ αὐτήν / δύσετ᾽, 551–2).357 Athena, as Phoenix, appears to Menelaus first among the Achaeans because he was nearest to her (ὃ γάρ ῥά οἱ ἐγγύθεν ἦεν 17. 554). The verse reflects his position on the battlefield, front and centre. His preferential relationship with Athena will be demonstrated in what follows (567–73). Athena qua Phoenix advises Menelaus to persist in an increasingly terrifying battle (543–4) by invoking themes dear to him: the reproach and shame and that would ensue (κατηφείη καὶ ὄνειδος 556) if the corpse of Achilles’ companion should be lost (557–9). Menelaus ought to stand fast and encourage the others.358 Menelaus, of course, agrees, pronouncing his sorrow for Patroclus and seeking Athena’s help (561–2) ‘for his death has deeply touched me in (my) spirit’ (μάλα γάρ με θανὼν ἐσεμάσσατο θυμόν 564).359 Athena is gratified at the tribute from her current pet, γήθησεν δὲ θεὰ γλαυκῶπις Ἀθήνη, / ὅττί ῥα οἷ πάμπρωτα θεῶν ἠρήσατο πάντων (567–8), a joy she evinces

354  See Fenik (1968) 182–4; Edwards (1991) 114. 355  To be sure, Zeus still has not fully taken the part of the Achaeans, as his support of Hector (593) will show. Zenodotus athetized 545–6 (Arn / ΣT); cf. Fenik (1968) 183 n. 3 (‘a pedantic addition’); Edwards (1991) (the change of mind is ‘not very convincing here’, 115). 356  Pucci (2018) 106. 357  Fenik (1968) 182; Edwards (1991) 28–30 provides similar examples (further bibli­og­raphy at 30 n. 32). 358  The formulaic verse explicates the likely etymology of Menelaus’ name and resonates with its formular context: ἀλλ᾽ ἔχεο κρατερῶς, ὄτρυνε δὲ λαὸν ἅπαντα (559). Athena’s injunction to ‘spur on the host’ implicitly is echoed in the epithet in the subsequent verse-formula, τὴν δ᾽ αὖτε προσέειπε βοὴν ἀγαθὸς Μενέλαος (560). 359  ἐσεμάσσατο θυμόν signals profound emotion and Menelaus’ reaction foreshadows that of Achilles (cf. 20. 425); cf. Edwards (1991) 117; Kozak (2017) 191.

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The Iliad  97 elsewhere in Homer chiefly for Odysseus (Od. 13. 287). Athena imbues Menelaus with strength (569) and stirs up his spirit.360 καί οἱ μυίης θάρσος ἐνὶ στήθεσσιν ἐνῆκεν, ἥ τε καὶ ἐργομένη μάλα περ χροὸς ἀνδρομέοιο ἰχανάαι δακέειν· λαρόν τέ οἱ αἷμ’ ἀνθρώπου· (17. 570–2) And she put into his breast the daring of the fly, which though repeatedly driven away from a man’s skin, persists in biting; for human blood is sweet to it.

Although the tenor of the simile is Menelaus’ courage (θάρσος) and thirst for battle, its vehicle potentially diminishes the effect.361 A fly, however bloodthirsty, often is little more than an annoyance to its victim.362 The ensuing combat-sequence and rebuke demonstrates the effect of Athena’s intervention (17. 575–91). The passage was already memorable in antiquity.363 Menelaus enjoys the unique distinction among all Achaeans— except Achilles—of killing the last named Trojan in the poem. An unusual verse-introduction introduces Menelaus’ opponent and victim, Podes son of Eëtion. Podes was a man of wealth and consequence, a close companion of Hector (. . . ἐπεί οἱ ἑταῖρος ἔην φίλος εἰλαπιναστής 577; πιστὸν ἑταῖρον / ἐσθλὸν ἐνὶ προμάχοισι 589–90), who dies as he flees (577–9).364 The very name of the Trojan, Podes, looks ahead to πόδας ὠκύς Achilles, whose presence is increasingly felt in the narrative as his return to battle draws near.365 The victory is decisive and even Hector is shaken at the sight (17. 587). Apollo, in the guise of his closest guest-friend Phaenops, utters a scathing rebuke. 360  ‘Although the fly-simile is remarkable and unparalleled, it is not surprising in Menelaos’ case, since he is the subject of more unusual similes than anybody else’, Fenik (1968) 183; cf. 161. 361  Edwards (1991) 117. 362  The fly simile in Book 17 recalls the fly of Book 4, with shifts in referent and meaning. Menelaus was the fly’s potential victim in Book 4 (131); he becomes the frenzied insect in Book 17, ready to bite (571–2). The latter simile depicts the keenness of Menelaus’ attack (esp. 17. 569, 579–80) rather than his vulnerability (as 4. 130). 363  Cf. Pl. Symp. 174b5–c1 (ad 588). Athenaeus discusses the passage at some length, construing Podes as the first ‘parasite’ (cf. εἰλαπιναστής 577, a Homeric hapax), fittingly wounded in the stomach; Athen. 236d [= 5, 178b]; Edwards (1991) 118. 364  ἔσκε δ᾽ . . . (575); cf. the more common ἤν δέ τις (e.g. Il. 5. 9), read by Athen. (236c) and some late MSS; further bibliography at Edwards (1991) 118. 365  Cf. Fenno (2008) 155.

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98  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Ἕκτορ, τίς κέ σ’ ἔτ’ ἄλλος Ἀχαιῶν ταρβήσειεν, οἷον δὴ Μενέλαον ὑπέτρεσας, ὃς τὸ πάρος περ μαλθακὸς αἰχμητής; νῦν δ’ οἴχεται οἶος ἀείρας νεκρὸν ὕπεκ Τρώων· σὸν δ’ ἔκτανε πιστὸν ἑταῖρον ἐσθλὸν ἐνὶ προμάχοισι, Ποδῆν υἱὸν Ἠετίωνος. (586–90) Hector, what other Achaean will fear you any more, seeing how you shrink back before Menelaus, who formerly was a soft spearman? But now he has gone off, carrying the corpse out from the Trojans, all by himself. And he killed your trusted companion Podes son of Eetion, excellent among those fighting at the battlefront.

Menelaus faced potential reproach among his allies (556–8) whereas Apollo threatens Hector with loss of reputation among his enemies (586).366 The Achaeans are the point of reference for Hector’s future reputation and presumably for Menelaus’ previous one (586–7). Hector depends on the esteem of the enemy for glory. Menelaus is defined by his standing among his friends. What Apollo does not say is precisely what Plato and so many subsequent readers have assumed, that Menelaus is as poor a warrior as his reputation would imply (587–8).367 The inclusion of τὸ πάρος περ (17. 587) is critical. Apollo says that ‘formerly’ it was the view of the Achaeans that Menelaus was ‘soft’; he does not say that it is currently so. In any case, Apollo is not a reliable witness (οὐ πιστὸς ὁ ψόγος), as the bT scholiast drily observes.368 And Hector’s current and future reputation will be determined by his decision either to stand or to flee against this opponent, who is so fearsome that no other Trojan can check his assault (cf. 580–1). Most telling is how Apollo ends the rebuke. He contrasts Menelaus’ prior reputation (597) with his present success, carrying off the corpse single-handedly (588–9).369

366  μαλθακός, a Homeric hapax, is a variant of the more common μαλακός: literally, ‘soft, yielding’ (e.g. εὐνή . . . μαλακή Il. 10. 75); metaphorically, ‘gentle, persuasive’ (e.g. ἐπέεσσι . . . μαλακοῖσιν Il. 1. 582). For the (rare) negative metaphorical sense, cf. Alc. fr. 6. 9 (ὄκνος μόλθ[ακος, a dialectal variant). 367  Cf. Pl. Smp. 174b–c; Willcock (2004) 53. 368  The scholiast proposes that Apollo is commenting on Menelaus’ unwarlike appearance. τὸ σημεῖον, ὅτι οὐχ ὡς τῶι ὄντι μαλθακοῦ αἰχμητοῦ ὄντος τοῦ Μενελάου ληπτέον, ἀλλὰ τὸ πρόσωπον πολέμιον ὂν εἰς διαβολὴν λέγει, ΣbT ad loc. 369  The corpse is that of Podes, Hector’s companion; but Willcock (1987) makes the at­trac­ tive suggestion that the narrative implies Patroclus’ corpse, around whom the overall battle centres (185–94); cf. (2002) 227–9; Allan (2005) 7 n. 29.

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The Iliad  99 Apollo’s rebuke of Hector, unlike Athena’s to Menelaus, does not result in a duel. Zeus intervenes directly with his aegis, impelling the Achaeans to flee and granting victory to the Trojans (17. 595–6). A short catalogue of Achaeans flee the battlefield: Peneleus (597); Leitus (601); and even Idomeneus and Meriones (620–5). Only Menelaus has remained steadfast, with the Aiantes, who were not unaware that Zeus was again on the side of the Trojans (οὐδ᾽ ἔλαθ᾽ Αἴαντε μεγαλήτορε καὶ Μενέλαον / Ζεύς, ὅτε δὴ Τρώεσσι δίδου ἑτεραλκέα νίκην 626–7). The darkness lifts in answer to Ajax’s prayer (629–47) and at Ajax’s behest Menelaus goes to find Antilochus (648–55). A final succession of animal similes describe Menelaus’ search; the subsequent apostrophe renders the scene and the part he plays in it all the more dramatic (657–80). The first simile, a departing lion, renders Menelaus’ unwillingness to retreat. βῆ δ’ ἰέναι ὥς τίς τε λέων ἀπὸ μεσσαύλοιο, ὅς τ’ ἐπεὶ ἄρ κε κάμησι κύνας τ’ ἄνδράς τ’ ἐρεθίζων, οἵ τέ μιν οὐκ εἰῶσι βοῶν ἐκ πῖαρ ἑλέσθαι πάννυχοι ἐγρήσσοντες· ὃ δὲ κρειῶν ἐρατίζων ἰθύει, ἀλλ’ οὔ τι πρήσσει· θαμέες γὰρ ἄκοντες ἀντίον ἀΐσσουσι θρασειάων ἀπὸ χειρῶν καιόμεναί τε δεταί, τάς τε τρέει ἐσσύμενός περ, ἠῶθεν δ᾿ ἀπὸ νόσφιν ἔβη τετιηότι θυμῶι· (657–64)370 He went away like some lion leaving the stable yard, when he is weary with contending against dogs and men, who do not allow him to snatch away the fat of the herd, keeping watch all night. Greedy for flesh, he rushes them, but does not succeed at all. For the darts hurled by brave hands fly thickly against him, and flaming torches, from which he cringes in spite of his eagerness, and at dawn he goes off, heavy at heart.

Like several other passages in which Menelaus is prominent the simile was condemned by Leaf who found it ‘pointless’ and the narrative ‘late and

370  Cf. the nearly identical simile for Ajax’s retreat in Book 11, where it is better integrated into the diction and narrative (Il. 17. 657 ~ 11. 548; 660–4 = 11. 551–5; 666 = 11. 557 to the bucolic caesura), see Beye (1984). Verbatim repetition of similes is relatively rare in Homer; it signals the larger correspondence between the two passages, forming a ring structure around the events intervening between Achilles’ despatch of Patroclus (11. 608–15) and his return to battle (19. 12–13).

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100  Menelaus in the Archaic Period poor’.371 Yet even Shipp found the diction unexceptionable from verse 543 to the end of the book and criticized Leaf for failing to distinguish between the diction in narrative passages and in similes in which late features are more common.372 The transition from the simile to narrator-text embeds Menelaus’ focalization: ὣς ἀπὸ Πατρόκλοιο βοὴν ἀγαθὸς Μενέλαος / ἤϊε πόλλ’ ἀέκων (665–6). Menelaus utters a parainesis to the Aiantes and Meriones, asking them to bear in mind Patroclus’ ‘gentle’ (ἐνηείης) and ‘sweet’ (μείλιχος) disposition (670–1).373 The search for Antilochus continues with another simile, now an eagle searching for a hare. πάντοσε παπταίνων ὥς τ’ αἰετός, ὅν ῥά τέ φασιν ὀξύτατον δέρκεσθαι ὑπουρανίων πετεηνῶν, ὅν τε καὶ ὑψόθ’ ἐόντα πόδας ταχὺς οὐκ ἔλαθε πτώξ θάμνωι ὕπ’ ἀμφικόμωι κατακείμενος, ἀλλά τ’ ἐπ’ αὐτῶι ἔσσυτο, καί τέ μιν ὦκα λαβὼν ἐξείλετο θυμόν· (674–8) Glancing in all directions like an eagle, which (they say) of the birds of the sky sees most keenly, and the fleet-footed hare does not escape his notice (even though he is high above), as it cowers in a leafy shrub, but [the eagle] swoops upon it, and swiftly taking it up deprives it of life.

Eagle similes are not in themselves uncommon in the Iliad but this one is unique in two respects.374 Elsewhere such similes focus on a physical quality, swiftness, and/or hostile intent.375 This eagle-simile instead describes a cognitive and physical faculty, Menelaus’ perception of the situation and the keenness of his sight.376 Moreover, the tenor of the simile contrasts with its vehicle. The object of the eagle’s search ordinarily is his prey; here, Menelaus’ object is his friend Antilochus. The poet has transformed a conventionally martial image to that of an urgent but essentially peaceful endeavour; the eagle and the hare are allies.

371  Leaf (1902); Shipp (19722) considers the entirety of Book 23 ‘late’ (225); cf. discussion by Edwards (1991) 126. Cf. Il. 13. 620–39; 17. 545–6; 23. 597–9. 372  Shipp (19722) 296. 373 Formulaic, but seemingly necessary given Ajax’s stated willingness to abandon the corpse in time of need (17. 242–3); implicitly corroborated later on (667); cf. Pucci (2018) 135 with n. 34. 374  Edwards (1991) 127–8. 375  Cf. Tsagarakis (1982) 135–6. 376  Cf. Hutchinson (2017) 163–4.

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The Iliad  101 Once Menelaus finds him, he advises Antilochus that his is a ‘painful message’ (17. 686). Patroclus, who was ‘considered the best of the Achaeans’ (πέφαται δ’ ὥριστος Ἀχαιῶν 689), is slain and a great longing fills the Achaeans (690).377 The call for help is largely formulaic and the delivery of a parainesis when leaving the battlefield is conventional; but the adjective tellingly points to the importance of the victim and Menelaus is fittingly the one to express it.378 Narrator-text makes explicit what Menelaus fears but does not say: that the allies might take fright and flee while he is away and leave the corpse behind as a spoil for the enemy: ἤϊε πόλλ’ ἀέκων· περὶ γὰρ δίε, μή μιν Ἀχαιοί / ἀργαλέου πρὸ φόβοιο ἕλωρ δηίοισι λίποιεν (666–7). Where even Ajax would flee a deadly struggle if necessary (242) Menelaus is the only Achaean eager to remain at the defence and, when forced away, he is determined to return as quickly as possible. The narrator reminds Menelaus in an apostrophe that he did not allow pity for Antilochus’ companions to delay him (οὐδ’ ἄρα σοί, Μενέλαε διοτρεφές, ἤθελε θυμός / τειρομένοις ἑτάροισιν ἀμυνέμεν, ἔνθεν ἀπῆλθεν / Ἀντίλοχος . . . (702–4). Menelaus returns directly to Patroclus, takes up his place, and issues another exhortation to Ajax (706–7). Menelaus finally initiates the plan to carry the body off the field with Ajax, not waiting for Achilles’ return ‘for, stripped [of his armour], he [Achilles] would not in any way be able to fight the Trojans’ (17. 711–14). Ajax approves the suggestion, employing a similar formula as when Menelaus earlier was persuaded to slay the suppliant Adrestus, πάντα κατ᾽ αἶσαν ἔειπες, ἀγακλεὲς ὦ Μενέλαε (716; cf. 6. 62). Fenik considered this concluding episode, like earlier elements in the book, entirely without parallel. ‘There is nothing like this elsewhere in the poem’. He attributes the prevalence of ‘untypical’ to ‘typical’ elements to the uniqueness of the situation.379 The poet has cast Menelaus as Patroclus’ tireless champion for the entirety of the defence, from the beginning of Book 17 to its close. He matches deeds to his words of distress over Patroclus’ death. Yet the two characters are never otherwise associated. One common explanation for Menelaus’ role as Patroclus’ chief defender is that no one else is available since many leading Achaeans remain wounded.380 But the explanation does not account for the choice of Menelaus rather than Ajax, who is available when called upon. And while even Ajax is willing to flee (17. 242) Menelaus will not. The most 377  The formula often (although not always) applied to Achilles; cf. Edwards (1991) 129, with Nagy (19992) 26–35, 63. 378 Cf. Σ 17. 1; Fenik (1968) 89; cf. Edwards (1991) 130 ad Il. 17. 702–5. 379  Fenik (1968) 188. 380  Cf. Edwards (1991) 62.

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102  Menelaus in the Archaic Period common—and, arguably, the oldest explanation is that Menelaus is the most fitting defender of Patroclus because both men are sympathetic, ἄμφω γὰρ ἤπιοι, as the scholia observe.381 True enough, but hardly a sufficient explanation for the central role played by Menelaus in the pivotal episode. As Barck observes, what is at issue is not Menelaus’ honour but that of the absent Achilles.382 One might look to interaction with other episodes from the Trojan War tradition for an explanation of Menelaus’ curious prominence in the defence of Patroclus. The sequence of events leading up to the defence of Patroclus in Book 17 has long been of special interest to critics, especially but not exclusively early neoanalyst scholars who compare episodes of the ‘Patrocleia’ to the Cyclic Aithiopis.383 Patroclus’ death at the hands of Euphorbus and Hector has been thought to be reminiscent of Antilochus’ slaying by Memnon (Aith. arg. 13–14). These and other correspondances led neoanalysts to conclude that Homer modelled the defence and rescue of Patroclus’ body by Menelaus and Meriones on the rescue of Achilles’ corpse by Odysseus and Ajax (Aith. arg. 16–18).384 The Iliad-poet one-upped the Aithiopis, as it were, by doubling the participants.385 Certain motifs associated with the Aithiopis might have been productive in Homer’s development of character.386 Malcolm Willcock believed that the Aithiopis uniquely affected Homer’s treatment of the character Antilochus.387 Willcock attributed the connection between Antilochus and Achilles in the Iliad to their companionship in the Aithiopis but joined to it the key observation that Menelaus and Antilochus are even more consistently linked for much of the Iliad.388 Willcock demonstrated the consistent association of Menelaus with Antilochus in the Iliad and offered several incisive remarks.389 The correspondence between motifs shared by the Iliad and the Aithiopis

381  ΣbT ad 17. 1–2; cf. A. Parry (1989) 320; Willcock (2002) 222–4. 382  Barck (1971) 12. 383  Cf. Kakridis (1949) 65–95; Schadewaldt (19654) 155–202 [with a diagram of purported correspondences between the Iliad and his reconstruction of the Aithiopis at 173]; Kullmann (1960) 303–35, 359. The Patroclus-Antilochus correspondence has been called into question, cf. Burgess (2005) esp. 122, (2009) 48–50. 384  Cf. Pestalozzi (1945) 32, 89; Kakridis (1949) 83–8; Kullmann (1960) 303–35; Schoek (1961) 32–3; Schadewaldt (19654) 170–1, 178–81, 241–4; Willcock (1987) 192–3. 385  Schadewaldt (19654) 170; cf. Burgess (2009) 81–3. 386  Kullmann (2015) 118–19; cf. Burgess (2005) 119, 121–2. 387  Willcock (1973) 6–8; cf. (1987) 185; Kullmann (1960) 94. 388  Willcock (1973) 7; cf. Schadewaldt (19654) 178–81; Mühlestein (1987) 49–51. 389  Willcock (1973) 7–8; (1983) 482–4; (1987) 185; cf. A.  Parry (1989) 321; Richardson (1993) 235 ad 23. 607–8 et passim; Davies (2016) 10–12.

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The Iliad  103 remains generally acknowledged though, as Malcolm Davies demonstrates, considerable difficulties are involved in assessing interaction, much less allusion, between the two poems.390 Even Bernard Fenik, whose typological analysis often set him at odds with neoanalysts, allowed that an Aithiopisparallel might be at work in the final episode of Book 17: ‘the slow retreat and defence of Patroclus’ body at the end of Ρ (722–61) . . . is closer to the corresponding Aithiopis-scene than to anything else in the Iliad, and can therefore be used as evidence for a relation between the two poems’.391 However one assesses possible allusions to the Aithiopis in the ‘Patrocleia’, Menelaus’ prominence in the defence of Patroclus has not been sufficiently explained.392 Kullmann, in his landmark research (1960) on the matter, frankly admitted that he had searched in vain for a parallel to Menelaus’ defence of Patroclus.393 And in spite of an unconcealed dislike of the hero,394 Fenik concluded that Menelaus’ words and actions in Book 17, and the similes employed by the poet to describe him, are singular.395 In any short, neither intratextual typology nor intertextual allusivity adequately explain Menelaus’ role. The poet has drawn Menelaus intimately into Achilles’ story by assigning him the leading role in the defence of Patroclus’ corpse. He articulates tender affection for Achilles’ closest companion and is twice willing to meet in battle an enemy for whom only Achilles is a match (cf. 7. 113–14). When first Hector advances and Menelaus seeks out Ajax, he declares that their ul­tim­ate object is to protect the corpse of Patroclus ‘for Achilles son of Peleus’ (εἴ πως ἐρυσαίμεθα νεκρόν / Πηλείδηι Ἀχιλῆϊ· 17. 104–5). He exhorts Ajax to rescue the corpse—now stripped of the arms—for Achilles (σπεύσομεν, αἴ κε νέκυν περ Ἀχιλλῆϊ προφέρωμεν, / γυμνόν 121–2). Menelaus has so thoroughly taken on the defence that by the middle of the battle he is willing to stand up to Hector unaided by Ajax if Athena should lend assistance (561–4). And at the end, Menelaus achieves his aim.396 By standing in for Achilles in the defence of Patroclus Menelaus initiates Achilles’ return to the battlefield.397 390  Davies (2016) esp. 5–10, 23–4; cf. Currie (2006) 38–9, (2016) 22–4; Edwards (1991) 16–17, 62; Willcock (1997) 187–8; Burgess (2009) 88–90; Tsagalis (2012a); Kullmann (2015) esp. 108–9, 111–12. 391  Fenik (1968) 232. 392  Willcock (2002) 225–9. 393  Kullmann (1960) 94–5. 394  Cf. Fenik (1978) 88; (1986) 42. 395  Fenik (1968) 161–3 (on Menelaus’ speech to Euphorbus), 183 (Menelaus and Athena), 188–9 (Menelaus and Antilochus); on Menelaus’ similes, 160–1, 183. 396  Cf. Morrison (1992) 85–7. 397  On Achilles-doublets, Whitman (1958) 154–220; Schadewaldt (19663) 234–84 (Hector); Clader (1976) 5–6 (Helen); Lang (1995) 154–6; Nickel (2002); Fenno (2008) with further

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104  Menelaus in the Archaic Period The friendship with Antilochus connects the two heroes. One might say that by sending him to Achilles Menelaus offers a replacement for Patroclus (17. 691–3). Homer thus restores to Achilles the companion whom he had taken pains to associate exclusively with Menelaus, refiguring the epic trad­ ition (cf. Aith. arg. 13–14, 19–20 Bernabé).398 Antilochus’ epithet accordingly reflects that of Achilles, as he draws near to him, Ἀντίλοχος δ᾽ Ἀχιλῆϊ πόδας ταχὺς ἄγγελος ἦλθεν (18. 2).399 After informing Achilles of the death Antilochus remains to weep at his side (18–21).400 And the poet has ‘re-assigned’, however temporarily, another of Achilles’ companions to Menelaus. When Athena appears in Book 17 to exhort Menelaus to face Hector in battle (553ff.), she appears in the guise of Phoenix. Why should this be? Phoenix appears rarely elsewhere in the poem, and then only with Achilles.401 Edwards takes it as a matter of course (‘no other close associate of Achilles and Patroclus is available’), but it is far from obvious that the poet would choose this figure to appear to Menelaus in the first place.402 The seeds of Achilles’ decision to rejoin the Achaeans are sown by Menelaus.403 This is how the best of the Achaeans abandons his wrath and is drawn back into the Trojan War, taking on Menelaus’ cause as his own and setting in motion the fall of the city.404 Achilles accordingly tells Thetis that punishing the Achaeans no longer gives him pleasure (18. 79–82); his desire for vengeance is transferred to Hector (88–93) and so out of necessity (113) he will set aside his grievance against Agamemnon (111–13). The transfer of Antilochus’ friendship from Menelaus to Achilles will be completed later on in the Funeral Games. Achilles returns to battle, literally, with a vengeance. In striking contrast to his protracted withdrawal Achilles cannot wait to avenge the death of Patroclus, which he calls ‘an outrage’ (λώβη, 19. 208). λώβη is the pivot-point resolving the two men’s stories and the two themes of the Iliad. For Menelaus, λώβη provoked the outbreak of the Trojan War and impels him to pursue the war to its bitter end (cf. 13. 622–3). λώβη re-directs Achilles’ wrath from bibli­og­raphy at 155 n. 34. Barck (1971) explains Menelaus’ essential Iliadic role as a Zwischenszenencharakter, who bridges the story of the Wrath and of the Trojan War (11–12). 398  Cf. Willcock (1973) 7–8, (1983) 480–1, (1987). 399  Swift-footedness is characteristic of Achilles, e.g. Nagy (19992) 326–7; further bibli­og­ raphy at Nickel (2002) 228 n. 44 and often transferred to those associated in some way with him; Fenno (2008) 158 with n. 41. 400  The ‘pregnant tears’ signalling allusion; cf. Currie (2016) 106–7, 126–30. 401  Esp. in the embassy scene (Iliad 9); cf. 19. 311; 23. 359–60; Currie (2016) 130. 402  Edwards (1991) 116. 403  Cf. Schadewaldt (19654) 234–6. 404  References to the fall of Troy become increasingly frequent in the final quarter of the poem (Schadewaldt [19654] 156 n. 4).

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The Iliad  105 Agamemnon to the Trojans and guarantees his return to the war. With Menelaus’ story at its climax, Homer uses the substitution of Menelaus for Achilles to facilitate the peripeteia of the Iliad. Once he has become aligned with Menelaus against the Trojans, the best of the Achaeans is brought back into the Trojan War. Achilles’ return to battle renders Menelaus himself almost irrelevant.

Dénouement: Menelaus at the Curtain (Iliad 23) The Funeral Games mark the restoration—for the present—of harmony and order among the Achaeans. ‘This huge, bright, public, male set-piece also functions as an opportunity for each of the major Achaeans to make some sort of “curtain call” ’, comments Oliver Taplin.405 For Menelaus, it is the dénouement of his theme.406 Though Homer evokes certain details of the epic tradition, the most important ‘intertext’ for the portrayal of Menelaus at the Games is the Iliad itself. Menelaus’ characteristic patterns of mind, speech, and action are meaningfully repeated in his last appearance in the poem. The premier event of the Games is the chariot race (cf. 23. 262–86) and the most dramatic moment in the event is not its end but the treacherous near-collision of Menelaus and Antilochus.407 Previously Antilochus has fought alongside Menelaus in battle (13. 545–59, 581–655; 15. 568–91; 16. 311–29) and even preserved him from harm or death (esp. 5. 565–75). In the chariot-race, by contrast, Antilochus deliberately endangers Menelaus and his horses. Achilles sets the prizes but declines to compete (23. 275–9). His absence (and the non-participation of his immortal horses) allows others the chance of victory (280–6); for Menelaus, the absence allows a final opportunity to take centre stage even if not first-place prize. Eumelus, the favourite in the race, has the second-best horses among the Achaeans (2. 763–7; 23. 288–9); Diomedes the noble horses of Aeneas (23. 290–2). Menelaus’ team, marked from the others by including the only named horses in the contest, is rather curious. ‘Podargus’ is his own horse; the other, ‘Aithe’, has been borrowed from Agamemnon (Αἴθην τὴν Ἀγαμεμνονέην τὸν ἑόν τε Πόδαργον 23. 295).408 405  Taplin (1992) 253; cf. Richardson (1993) 164–6; Beck (2008) 173–4; Scodel (2008) 44–7, 103–6; Frame (2009) 147–72. 406  Agamemnon is not invited to make a curtain-call in the Funeral Games; instead, Achilles pre-emptively offers him a prize; cf. Il. 23. 890–5 with Taplin (1992) 258–9. 407  Taplin (1992) 255. 408  The Atreid horse-names are earlier used of the four named horses of Hector (Il. 8. 185) though the verse is suspect (athetized by Aristarchus and bracketed by West; cf. app. crit. ad loc.).

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106  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Menelaus’ use of a borrowed horse is not in itself unusual; Antilochus races a borrowed team as well. The fact that it is borrowed from Agamemnon, however, evokes both Agamemnon’s original assistance in the wooing of Helen ([Hes.] Cat. fr. 197. 14–15) and the exceptionally close bonds between the two in the Iliad: geographical, political, familial, and affective. Menelaus races ‘not just for himself, but for himself and Agamemnon at the same time’.409 The detail that the borrowed horse is a mare (Αἴθη) reflects on the brothers singly and as a pair.410 Winning and possessing a female (horse, prize) runs through the passage as a thematic touchstone.411 Antilochus’ borrowed horses are from his father ἱππότα Νέστωρ (2. 336).412 While these horses are no match for the others, Nestor claims that Antilochus’ horsemanship is extraordinary.413 He encourages him to devise a stratagem in order to win (23. 309–14).414 When Menelaus and Antilochus find themselves neck-and-neck for second place Antilochus dismisses the notion of trying to beat Diomedes and sets his sights only on Menelaus (402–16). In what ensues, Antilochus insults Menelaus and nearly runs him off the track. He admonishes his team that they will be humiliated if beaten by Aithe, ‘a female’ (μὴ σφῶϊν ἐλεγχείην καταχεύηι / Αἴθη θῆλυς ἐοῦσα 408–9).415 Then he resolves to employ his wits as his father advised (τεχνήσομαι ἠδὲ νοήσω 415), however ‘obscurely related’ to his father’s injunction the tactic might turn out to be.416 Nestor had advised his son on how to pass the turning post, but Menelaus and Antilochus now are in the final straight. Antilochus looks for a narrow place (416, cf. 427) and sees his chance (418–19). The narrator, after it is all over, calls the tactic ‘trickery’ (κέρδεα 515). A near-collision ensues but it enables Antilochus to take the lead (419–24). Menelaus reacts in alarm and anger. The overall episode is carefully composed in ring-composition alternating action and speech (23. 417–47), book-ended by a command given by each man to his horses (414–17, 443–5) and the repetition of an enjambed multi-verse formula setting the mood, ὣς ἔφαθ᾽· 409  Frame (2009) 213. 410 Cf. ΣbT ad loc. 411  Homer leaves implicit the obvious relevance of the statement to the Atreidae, in contrast to [Hes.] fr. 176. To be bested by a female is, in any case, the fate even of Zeus; cf. esp. Il. 15. 31–3. 412  Frame (2009) 131–2, 136–40. 413  Cf. Richardson (1993) 208–9. Nestor’s claim that his son is nearly without rival among horsemen (23. 345–8) is called into question by what ensues (a near-fatal accident with his friend Menelaus) and might seem to conform Antilochus more closely to the disastrous model last-mentioned by his father: Laomedon (348). 414  Nestor’s lengthy advice regarding the metis to be employed is ambivalent, and necessarily so, as Antilochus’ racing-strategy is destined to engender debate (esp. Il. 23. 417–47); cf. Taplin (1992) 255–6; Scodel (2002) 198. 415  Frame (2009) 211–13. 416  West (2011) 403; cf. Richardson (1993) 217–18.

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The Iliad  107 οἳ δὲ ἄνακτος ὑποδδείσαντες ὀμοκλήν / μάλλον ἐπεδραμέτην (417–18 = 446–7). The former instance is the reaction of Antilochus’ horses as he spurs them toward disaster (417); the latter of Menelaus’ horses after Antilochus has pulled out ahead. Menelaus’ emotions remain the same, Ἀτρείδης δ᾽ ἔδδεισε (425). Menelaus punctuates the action with a series of three short speeches of equal length that create an ascending level of tension ‘reflecting both the urgency of the situation and also his own laconic character’.417 Menelaus’ first speech is a request that Antilochus turn aside. Ἀντίλοχ᾽, ἀφραδέως ἱππάζεαι· ἀλλ᾽ ἄνεχ᾽ ἵππους— στεινωπὸς γὰρ ὁδός, τάχα δ᾽ εὐρυτέρη παρελάσσαι— μή πως ἀμφοτέρους δηλήσεαι ἅρματι κύρσας. (23. 426–8) Antilochus, you are driving foolishly. Rein in your horses—for the way is narrow, but soon it will widen out—lest you harm us both by running into my chariot.

Menelaus warns Antilochus that he is driving thoughtlessly (426). Antilochus drives all the harder (429) pretending not to hear (ὡς οὐκ ἀϊόντι ἐοικώς 430). A sporting-simile takes the place of the response Antilochus has chosen not to make, heightening the drama and emphasizing the theme (‘unchecked/thoughtless youth’). The narrative pace increases. ὅσσα δὲ δίσκου οὖρα κατωμαδίοιο πέλονται, ὅν τ᾽ αἰζηὸς ἀφῆκεν ἀνὴρ πειρώμενος ἥβης, τόσσον ἐπεδραμέτην· αἳ δ᾽ ἠρώησαν ὀπίσσω Ἀτρείδεω· αὐτὸς γὰρ ἑκὼν μεθέηκεν ἐλαύνειν (431–4) As far as the range of a discus swung fully from the shoulder, which a vigorous young man hurls, testing his strength: so far they raced forward. And the mares of Atreus’ son fell back, for he deliberately slackened his driving.

The poet brings the simile to an abrupt end mid-verse (433) as he ‘cuts back’ to the race course. Menelaus’ team, now seemingly comprised of two mares, reacts first (αἳ δ᾽ ἠρώησαν ὀπίσσω 433) and Menelaus takes the decision to yield (cf. ἑκών 435).418 417  Richardson (1993) 218. 418  αἳ δ᾽ . . . Ἀτρείδεω (23. 433–4). Αἴθη has been introduced as the only mare (295); Antilochus only mentions being beaten by one female (408–9). Later the masculine definite article occurs of the team (οἳ δέ 446).

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108  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Menelaus’ second speech is a rebuke of Antilochus for his youthful folly. Ἀντίλοχ᾽, οὔ τις σεῖο βροτῶν ὀλοώτερος ἄλλος. ἔρρ᾽, ἐπεὶ οὔ σ᾽ ἔτυμόν γε φάμεν πεπνῦσθαι Ἀχαιοί. ἀλλ᾽ οὐ μὰν οὐδ᾽ ὧς ἄτερ ὅρκου γ᾽ οἴσε᾽ ἄεθλον. (439–41) Antilochus, there is no other mortal man more destructive than you. Go to hell, since we Achaeans believed falsely that you were a sensible young man. But there is no way that you will carry off the prize without swearing an oath.

He calls Antilochus out by name and curses him (ἔρρ᾽ 440).419 Condemning Antilochus with the negative comparative οὔ . . . ὀλοώτερος (439), Menelaus employs the same formula by which he condemned Zeus for the failure of his attack on Paris (Ζεῦ πάτερ, οὔ τις σεῖο θεῶν ὀλοώτερος ἄλλος 3. 365). Menelaus later adapted the comparative formula to praise Antilochus, οὔ τις σεῖο νεώτερος ἄλλος Ἀχαιῶν (15. 569). Here he refigures the original formula, choosing the comparative form to curse Antilochus (440). How bitter a seeming-change in his friend, from ‘youngest’ but (by implication) ‘most dear’ (15. 569) to ‘most accursed’. Antilochus has failed to show the mature forethought the Achaeans had imputed to him (23. 440). Intratextual echoes continue. The Trojans had sworn an oath to grant Helen to the victor of the duel (3. 281–7); Menelaus here envisions not allowing Antilochus to take the prize for victory (a concubine) without an oath, ἀλλ᾽ οὐ μὰν οὐδ᾽ ὧς ἄτερ ὅρκου γ᾽ οἴσε᾽ ἄεθλον (23. 441). It is no idle threat; he returns to the idea later on (581–5). Antilochus refuses to turn aside, so in desperation Menelaus once more cries out, this time addressing his horses. μή μοι ἐρύκεσθον μηδ᾽ ἕστατον ἀχνυμένω κῆρ· φθήσονται τούτοισι πόδες καὶ γοῦνα καμόντα ἠ᾽ ὑμῖν· ἄμφω γὰρ ἀτέμβονται νεότητος. (443–5) Do not hold back [any more], nor stop, though you are grieved at heart. Their feet and knees will tire before yours. For they both are lacking in youth.

Menelaus reveals, in his third speech, what has been at stake all along, not so much the prize (a woman!) as the prerogatives and liabilities of youth and 419  Cf. Kelly (2007) 190–1.

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The Iliad  109 old age (cf. 3. 108–10).420 The elder Menelaus has been bested by the youthful Antilochus, though ironically his youthful horses have more vigour than Antilochus’ aged ones. The episode ends as it began, with an address to the horses, and Menelaus has the last word. The collision has been averted, Antilochus has pulled out ahead, but the quarrel remains unresolved. The narrator returns to Menelaus and Antilochus after the ‘flurry and excitement’ of Diomedes’ first-place finish abruptly ends the race (23. 499–513). Antilochus’ appearance in second place occupies only a single verse (514); the narrator pointedly remarks that he outstripped Menelaus ‘through contrivance not speed’ (κέρδεσιν, οὔ τι τάχει γε, παραφθάμενος Μενέλαον 515). Menelaus comes in hard on his heels (516); as Richardson comments, ‘he has caught up, as he said he would (444–5), but just fails to overtake in time’.421 The poet describes Menelaus’ third-place finish with care and attention, devoting roughly as many verses to it as to Diomedes’ first (23. 516–27). The narrative is embellished with two unique similes and completed by a narratorial comment reiterating the nearness of the victory (524–7). The first simile compares the distance between the two men to the ‘hair’s length’ distance between the tail of a chariot-horse and its wheel (517–23). The near-collision is the tenor of the second simile, again featuring a discus-cast (523–4, cf. 431–4). The narratorial comments recall the earlier quarrel, and the mention of Agamemnon’s mare implicitly answers Antilochus’ earlier boast (525; cf. 408–9). The drama culminates when Menelaus nearly overtakes Antilochus. ἀλλά μιν αἶψα κίχανεν, ὀφέλλετο γὰρ μένος ἠΰ ἵππου τῆς Ἀγαμεμνονέης, καλλίτριχος Αἴθης. (524–5) But he quickly he was gaining on him, for the power of lovely maned Aethe, Agamemnon’s mare, was greatly increasing.

The horse Antilochus had scorned is the one that nearly beats him, and the narrator goes on to remark that if the course had been any longer Menelaus would indeed have won (526–7). Antilochus, seemingly still ignoring Menelaus, complains to Achilles of his decision to award Eumelus

420  Cf. A. Parry (1989) 321.

421  Richardson (1993) 226.

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110  Menelaus in the Archaic Period second-place (543–62). Achilles smiles (for the first and last time in the poem), and grants it to Antilochus, ὅτι οἱ φίλος ἦεν ἑταῖρος (23. 556).422 If Antilochus had not ignored Menelaus’ warning he would never have won. Menelaus therefore is justifiably angry that Antilochus talks Achilles into awarding him the second place prize (566–7). In the ensuing harangue Menelaus addresses Antilochus in a phrase (Ἀντίλοχ᾽, εἰ δ᾽ ἄγε δεῦρο, διοτρεφές 581), that echoes his earlier appeal to Antilochus in the aristeia (17. 685).423 The public nature of the dispute is signalled by Menelaus’ use of the sceptre; its solemnity by the presence of the herald (566–7).424 The quarrel recalls the main theme of the poem but with a different outcome, a ‘significant reversal of the situation’ in which the two men are reconciled.425 The harmonious resolution allows the audience to glimpse the operation of ‘peace and normality’ in which ‘justice is expected to prevail’ after a protracted war and its resultant brutality.426 The presence of herald and sceptre manifest Menelaus’ traditional, even kingly, authority (23. 567–8). When Menelaus speaks he is like a god: μετηύδα ἰσόθεος φώς (569).427 Menelaus calls Antilochus out by name. Menelaus’ authority may be quasi-divine but the complaint is personal. Ἀντίλοχε, πρόσθεν πεπνυμένε, ποῖον ἔρεξας; ἤισχυνας μὲν ἐμὴν ἀρετήν, βλάψας δέ μοι ἵππους, τοὺς σοὺς πρόσθε βαλών, οἵ τοι πολὺ χείρονες ἦσαν. (570–2) Antilochus, you used to be sensible; what have you done? You have tarnished my valour and harmed my horses, driving yours in front, who were much the worse.

Menelaus alludes to the theme of earlier reproaches, Antilochus’ reckless thoughtlessness and immaturity (πρόσθεν πεπνυμένε 570; cf. 426, 439–40). He has caused harm to the horses and damaged his reputation (571). The blow is serious.428 Menelaus considers appealing to the other Achaeans to formally and impartially adjudicate the matter (573–5). 422  Richardson (1993) 229. 423  Cf. Richardson (1993) 232. 424 Cf. Il. 9. 375; Richardson (1993) 224, 230; parallels noted in antiquity (ΣAT ad 23. 565; Eust. 1317. 14). 425  King (1994) 227–30, esp. 228. 426  Zanker (1994) 52–3; cf. Schein (1984) 68–8, 82–4. 427  μετηύδα occurs elsewhere in the Iliad only of Apollo speaking in the divine council (24. 32). 428  Scodel (2008) 44–7.

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The Iliad  111 Menelaus first seeks to defend his besmirched honour (23. 571) but then worries about what people might say (μή ποτέ τις εἴπησιν Ἀχαιῶν χαλκοχιτώνων . . . 575). He quotes the imagined rumours directly. Ἀντίλοχον ψεύδεσσι βιησάμενος Μενέλαος οἴχεται ἵππον ἄγων, ὅτι οἱ πολὺ χείρονες ἦσαν ἵπποι, αὐτὸς δὲ κρέσσων ἀρετῆι τε βίηι τε. (576–8)429 Menelaus bested Antilochus by trickery when he took the [prize] mare, because though his horses were much worse, he himself was superior in standing and power.

Deborah Beck has shown that character-quoted direct speech can reveal a speaker’s character.430 As noted at the beginning of the chapter (p. 36), in the ‘persuasive quotation’ direct speech type the speaker, addressing a dir­ ect­ive to another character, reminds the addressee of a past occasion on which an authoritative figure said or did something that supports the dir­ ect­ive at hand.431 Beck observes that among the Achaeans only Menelaus cites himself as an authority (23. 579–81). Is he also somewhat paranoid? The narrator affirms that Antilochus beat Menelaus by trickery (κέρδεσιν 515) and Menelaus worries that the Achaeans will think that he is lying (ψεύδεσσι 576). But if Menelaus adjudicates, he will ensure that justice is done (579–80). Menelaus outlines the terms of the oath that he will require of Antilochus, the solemnity of which ‘is indicated by the lengthy and complex prescription’.432 Menelaus’ claim to authority regarding the swearing of oaths recalls the exactitude with which he specified the terms with Hector in Book 3. The earlier oath is explicitly religious, however, whereas here a public adjudication is proposed (δικάσω 579).433 The first oath, properly taken and religiously guaranteed, enacted a truce between enemies; in the present instance the oath proposed but not carried out is to effect a reconciliation between friends. Menelaus envisages the guarantor of the oath, aptly

429  Cf. Menelaus’ quotation of the mockery of Hyperenor to his brother Euphorbus at the beginning of Book 17 (25–7). 430  Beck (2008); cf. de Jong (20042) 171–9. 431  Beck (2008) 165–7. 432  Richardson (1993) 232. 433  Bonner and Smith (1930) 27–8 considered the speech to exemplify the development of Greek justice; cf. Richardson (1993) 231.

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112  Menelaus in the Archaic Period enough, to be Poseidon (584).434 Taken together, the two oaths provide a frame around the Iliadic story of Menelaus. ‘Sa [sc. Menelaus’] compétence en matière de lois et de procédure se révèle précieuse pour sa cause, dans la mesure où elle accuse les transgressions dont les Troyens se rendent coupables et voue ces derniers à la colère des dieux et à l’anéantissement’.435 Sadly, neither oath quite comes off. As to the former, Zeus refuses to act as guarantor and the truce is broken (cf. 3. 300–2). As to the second, Antilochus manages to avoid swearing it; friendly relations are restored but Antilochus gets the prize (23. 612–13).436 Beck interprets the special features of the speech as showing Menelaus to be an ‘emotional, excited, and ineffectual speaker, distraught at the idea of losing his rightful prize to Antilochus’.437 Menelaus is distraught, and he is also concerned about what people will say. He is a ‘personality’, in Gill’s terms. But the speech is not ineffectual: it provokes Antilochus to apologize (23. 587–92). Menelaus’ subsequent acceptance of Antilochus’ apology has been considered, in fact, an exemplary model for dispute resolution among friends.438 Scodel comments that the quarrel between Menelaus and Antilochus involves a ‘delicate face-negotiation’ in which neither character entirely gets the better of the situation.439 Antilochus, who had ignored Menelaus’ warning and rebuke in the midst of the race, now offers to yield. The narrator clearly signals Antilochus’ change of heart by employing the same adjective uttered earlier by Menelaus (τὸν δ᾽ αὖτ᾽ Ἀντίλοχος πεπνυμένος ἀντίον ηὔδα 586; cf. 440, 570).440 Antilochus justifies himself by employing a comparative adjective also used by Menelaus.441 ἄνσχεο νῦν· πολλὸν γὰρ ἐγώ γε νεώτερός εἰμι σεῖο, ἄναξ Μενέλαε, σὺ δὲ πρότερος καὶ ἀρείων. οἶσθ᾽ οἷαι νέου ἀνδρὸς ὑπερβασίαι τελέθουσιν· κραιπνότερος μὲν γάρ τε νόος, λεπτὴ δέ τε μῆτις. (23. 587–90)

434  As Poseidon is patron of horses and progenitor of the Neleids (cf. Od. 11. 254) (I owe this observation to Naoko Yamagata); cf. Frame (2009) 19–20. 435  Rousseau (1990) 352. 436  Cf. Richardson (1993) 233. 437  Beck (2008) 174. 438  Donlan (1989) 5–6; cf. Scodel (2008) 123–4. Contrast Achilles’ response to Agamemnon (Il. 19. 78–144), ‘the most extensive blame-shifting to be found in the Homeric poems’, Scodel (2008) 119. 439  Scodel (2008) 45, 103–6; cf. Scodel (2002) 183–4. 440  A. Parry (1989) 308; Richardson (1993) 233; ΣbT ad 591–2. 441  Cf. Richardson (1993) 233.

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The Iliad  113 Hold on, now. I am much younger than you, lord Menelaus, and you are older and worthier. You know what sort of excesses exist in a young man, for though he is quicker of mind he is also slender of wit.

Longer range intratextual allusions may be present. Antilochus echoes Menelaus’ earlier, laudatory use of the formula expressing his youthfulness to excuse his own ill-conduct and seek clemency (cf. οὔ τις σεῖο νεώτερος ἄλλος Ἀχαιῶν 15. 569). The most recent comparative adjective used between them, as a curse, however, might still ring in the listeners’ ears (Ἀντίλοχ᾽, οὔ τις σεῖο βροτῶν ὀλοώτερος ἄλλος / ἔρρ᾽, 23. 439–40). Menelaus used a pair of negative phrases in the former instance to praise Antilochus as unparalleled in battle (οὔτε ποσὶν θάσσων οὔτ᾽ ἄλκιμος ὡς σὺ μάχεσθαι 15. 570). Antilochus would seem to recall the compliment (23. 587), soon paying tribute to Menelaus’ superior age and position (588).442 Antilochus’ statement about the recklessness of youth (23. 589) is generally the kind of thing we might expect Menelaus himself to say; οἶσθ᾽ (‘you [Menelaus] know’, if anyone does . . . 589) might signal an intratextual allusion to Menelaus’ denunciation of the youthful excesses of Priam’s sons and their untrustworthiness under oath (3. 106–7). Antilochus offers to return the prize (591–2) and actually gives it over (597)—though he still considers the prize his own (ἵππον δέ τοι αὐτός / δώσω, τὴν ἀρόμην 591–2).443 Even if certain audience members do not remember, or only faintly remember, or have not heard, the earlier passages in which these formulations have occurred, the poet’s repetition of such phraseology reflects the ‘mental mould’ of the character (see above pp. 15–18). These are characteristic ways of speaking, for Menelaus. In the end, Menelaus is immensely pleased. Homer signals the im­port­ ance of his reconciliation with Antilochus, as he does the other crucial moments in Menelaus’ story, by pairing a lovely agricultural simile (23. 597–9) with a vocative address (600).444 ἦ ῥα, καὶ ἵππον ἄγων μεγαθύμου Νέστορος υἱός ἐν χείρεσσι τίθει Μενελάου. τοῖο δὲ θυμός ἰάνθη, ὡς εἴ τε περὶ σταχύεσσιν ἐέρσηι ληΐου ἀλδήσκοντος, ὅτε φρίσσωσιν ἄρουραι· ὣς ἄρα τοι, Μενέλαε, μετὰ φρεσὶ θυμὸς ἰάνθη. (23. 596–600) 442  See Scodel (2008) 104–5. 443  ΣbT ad loc.; cf. Richardson (1993) 234–5; see further Scodel (2008) 103–6. 444  Cf. Fenik (1968) 161.

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114  Menelaus in the Archaic Period He spoke, and the son of great-hearted Nestor, leading the mare, handed her over to Menelaus. And his heart was warmed, like corn by dew upon the ears of its ripening crop, when the fields are bristling. So, Menelaus, the heart within you was warmed.445

Menelaus’ heart ‘softens’; now ‘magnanimous and generous’, he chooses once again to yield (cf. 434).446 Ἀντίλοχε, νῦν μέν τοι ἐγὼν ὑποείξομαι αὐτός χωόμενος, ἐπεὶ οὔ τι παρήορος οὐδ᾽ ἀεσίφρων ἦσθα πάρος, νῦν αὖτε νόον νίκησε νεοίη. δεύτερον αὖτ᾽ ἀλέασθαι ἀμείνονας ἠπεροπεύειν. οὐ γάρ κέν με τάχ᾽ ἄλλος ἀνὴρ παρέπεισεν Ἀχαιῶν· (23. 602–6) Antilochus, now I yield up my anger against you, since you were never before thoughtless or flighty, even though now youth conquered good sense. But next time beware of cozening your betters. For perhaps no other man among the Achaeans would have prevailed on me.

Menelaus yielded to Antilochus on the race course out of fear for the destruction of property and personal injury (435–7). He now yields out of the sympathy so characteristic of himself, expressed with the sententiousness of which he is fond (604). In spite of the tone of benign indulgence, however, Menelaus maintains his authority. He concedes the prize to Antilochus though he has not (fairly) won it. Menelaus agrees with Antilochus that he is ‘superior’, issuing a stern warning that ‘his tolerance and gentleness have their limits’ (605–6).447 Menelaus forgives him due to friendship and in the abiding awareness of his responsibility for the sufferings of his companions. ἀλλὰ σὺ γὰρ δὴ πόλλ’ ἔπαθες καὶ πόλλ’ ἐμόγησας, σός τε πατὴρ ἀγαθὸς καὶ ἀδελφεός, εἵνεκ’ ἐμεῖο. (23. 607–8) But you have indeed suffered much and toiled much, and your good father and brother, too, for my sake.

445 On ἰάνθη (< ἰαίνω) in Homer (of accepting compensation for a loss), Scodel (2008) 105. 446  Donlan (1989) 5. 447  Richardson (1993) 235.

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The Iliad  115 We are back at the central themes of Menelaus’ speech in the duel with Paris (3. 97–110). Menelaus affirms his irreplaceable position among the Achaeans and, implicitly, his unique role in the poem. Menelaus’ concern—the fall of Troy—is guaranteed by Achilles’ defeat of Hector. Menelaus will yield therefore to Antilochus’ entreaties and grant him the prize which, Menelaus insists, is his own (609–10). Menelaus brings his speech to a close, and Homer his story to an end, with a self-definitional statement about reputation. τώ τοι λισσομένωι ἐπιπείσομαι, ἠδὲ καὶ ἵππον δώσω ἐμήν περ ἐοῦσαν, ἵνα γνώωσι καὶ οἵδε, ὡς ἐμὸς οὔ ποτε θυμὸς ὑπερφίαλος καὶ ἀπηνής. (609–11) And so I shall yield to your entreaty, and I shall give the mare to you, though she is mine, so that these men too may know that my spirit is not haughty nor unyielding.

What Menelaus detests most of all in the Trojans is their overweening arrogance (ὑπερφίαλος 611, cf. 3. 106; 13. 621). ἀπηνής describes Achilles, disastrously refusing to ‘bend’ to the entreaties of his companion (16. 35). The Iliadic Menelaus stakes his claim to a reputation for decency and clemency, even at the cost of losing the prize; even, perhaps, at the risk of appearing ‘soft’. Hardly any other Homeric warrior would do so, as the ominous allusions to the quarrel of Ajax and Odysseus imply (23. 708–34). But Achilles, the most unbending of the Achaeans, in the end does do something similar, yielding to the entreaties of the enemy and returning the prize of his victory (24. 560–90).

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2

The Odyssey Introduction: Menelaus Returned Home We have seen in Chapter 1 that Menelaus’ story in the Iliad is built largely from ‘within’. His personality emerges through what he says and does and what is said of him by the narrator and others within the confines of the present time and space of the poem. Allusions to the epic tradition occur chiefly in two pivotal episodes when Homer evokes Paris’ original offense in the duel episode and its aftermath (Iliad 3–4) to ‘assign’ the Trojan War theme to Menelaus in contrast to Achilles and his wrath. After this point, Homer primarily uses intratextual repetition of words, actions and relationships to portray Menelaus. A second locus of allusion involving Menelaus occurs in the defence of Patroclus (Iliad 17), where elements of Achilles’ epic biography seem to be evoked to align Menelaus with Achilles and his wrath. The conclusion of Menelaus’ story in the Iliad at the Funeral Games involves intratextual allusions expressive of his personality while the epic tradition is evoked in the realignment of the relationship with Antilochus and Achilles. Menelaus speaks his last words in the Iliad to Antilochus: warm and gentle, forgiving him for his youthful folly and yielding to him out of recognition for all that he, his father, and his brother have suffered and done on his behalf; for he would never wish to be known for a haughty or unyielding spirit (Il. 23. 602–11). This is the king Telemachus meets at Sparta in the Odyssey. Plenty is new, of course, since the end of the Funeral Games: the sack of Troy, the lucrative return, the palace—not to mention the children and Helen. And the Odyssey-poet has a new role for Menelaus to play. Scholars and commentators have long recognized how useful Menelaus is for Telemachus and Odysseus.1 Menelaus will help Telemachus to find, and the audience to understand, Odysseus.2 Telemachus achieves in Sparta his twofold aim: news about his father and fame for himself. Menelaus’ own 1  e.g. Klingner (1964 [1944]) 70–9; de Jong (2001) 106.

2  Cf. Reece (1993) 74–7.

Menelaus in the Archaic Period: Not Quite the Best of the Achaeans. Anna R. Stelow, Oxford University Press (2020). © Anna R. Stelow. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780199685929.001.0001

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The Odyssey  117 return, meanwhile, and much else about him, prepares for that of Odysseus.3 Menelaus, like Odysseus, has travelled to the ‘otherworld’, crossing bound­ ar­ies between divine and human, visiting places fantastical and real.4 Like Odysseus, his fate remains incomplete at the end of the poem. Just as significant, however, is the profound difference between the two. Odysseus is fated to return to Ithaca after a final voyage and to die there in ripe old age, surrounded by his people, prospering (ἀμφὶ δὲ λαοί / ὄλβιοι ἔσσονται Od. 11. 136–7). Menelaus, on the other hand, will not meet his end among his own people ‘in horse rearing Argos’ (4. 562). He will travel away again, to the Elysian plain, where he will find only Rhadamanthys (564). Menelaus has, in short, a story of his own quite apart from Odysseus and his son that progresses over the course of the poem. We initially learn something of Menelaus at Pylos: at first indirectly, through a series of prospective contrasts; and then directly, as Nestor begins the narration of his return.5 The reception scene at Sparta reveals Menelaus’ character as host and something of his relationships, but it is the stories told by Menelaus and Helen in Odyssey 4 that develop his character most fully. The trajectory of Menelaus’ character is mostly complete at the departure of Telemachus in Book 15 but even seemingly nonce mentions (in Books 8, 14, and 24) show us something of who Menelaus ‘is’ in the Odyssey. Willcock identified the importance of relationships in Homeric characterportrayal.6 We have seen how in the Iliad Homer refigures the relationships by which Menelaus was traditionally construed. He consistently defers to Agamemnon not out of inferiority or dependency but acts out of affection and choice: he acts of his own volition, αὐτόματος (Il. 2. 408). Helen matters very little to Menelaus, apart from the injustice of her abduction. Antilochus becomes an important younger companion. The Odyssey-poet thematizes these same relationships rather differently. As Nestor begins the narrative, the returns of Menelaus and Agamemnon depend on one another. But as the story progresses Menelaus distances himself, for a time, from brother and wife. The Odyssey-poet signals his divergence from the Iliad and the tradition in Nestor’s ‘reminiscence’ of a quarrel between Menelaus and Agamemnon after the fall of Troy (Od. 3. 135–50) that has caused their 3  On the similarities and contrasts between the men and their returns, cf. Klingner (1964 [1944]) 70, 78–9; Anderson (1958); Reinhardt (1997 [1960]); Powell (1970);  Hölscher (19892) 95–101; Danek (1998) 37, 93–4; Wöhrle (1999); de Jong (2001) appendix C; Louden (2011) 113–14. 4  Cf. Davies (2002) 15–25. 5  Powell (1970) 420–6; Reece (1993) 59–69; Olson (1995) 65–90; de Jong (2001) 68–70. 6  Esp. Willcock (1983) 481.

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118  Menelaus in the Archaic Period homeward paths and fates to diverge. Menelaus extricates himself from Helen in the course of his own narrative, eliminating her altogether in the story of Proteus and casting himself as a hero of Odyssean mettle, with a fate all his own. However, the relationships by which Menelaus traditionally is construed begin to close in on him after the end of the Proteus story. Homer finally leaves Menelaus behind, in the shadow of Helen, when Telemachus returns to Ithaca. Most scholars generally agree that the Odyssey interacts with the Iliad. The poet signals his engagement with nostos stories in the proem (Od. 1. 11–12) and scholarly work on the importance of Cyclic material for con­ text­ual­iz­ing the story of Odysseus has hardly been lacking.7 While scholars have observed ‘Cyclic’ themes evoked in the character-drawing of Menelaus, the importance of the Iliad as source-text for the characterization of Menelaus in the Odyssey has been less appreciated.8 The Odyssey-poet alludes to the Iliadic Menelaus but refigures him fittingly for his own, new song (cf. Od. 1. 351–2).9

Pylos The story of Menelaus begins in Ithaca with Telemachus when Athena insists that to learn about his father he must go ‘to Sparta, to Menelaus’ (Σπάρτηνδε παρὰ ξανθὸν Μενέλαον 1. 285). Athena and the other gods have decided that Telemachus must visit the first- and latest arrived Achaeans from Troy in order to learn news of his father and achieve renown for himself. πέμψω δ’ ἐς Σπάρτην τε καὶ ἐς Πύλον ἠμαθόεντα νόστον πευσόμενον πατρὸς φίλου, ἤν που ἀκούσηι, ἠδ’ ἵνα μιν κλέος ἐσθλὸν ἐν ἀνθρώποισιν ἔχησιν. (1. 93–5) I shall send him to Sparta and to sandy Pylos to learn about the return of his father, if he should hear anything, and so that he may achieve glorious renown among men. 7  Cf. Stanford (19632) 12–14, 25–6; Nagy (19992) xvi–xviii, 35–41; Clay (1983) 103–6; Pucci (1995 [orig. pub. 1987]) 41–3, 144–7; Danek (1998) esp. 33–5; Tsagalis (2012b); West (2014b) 27–30; Currie (2016) 35, 72–3. 8  Cf. Danek (1998) esp. 37; Petropoulos (2012); West (2013) 244–87; cf. Danek (2015) 356–60, 366. 9  On singers and ‘new songs’, cf. [Hes.] fr. 357 with Currie (2016) 72–3.

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The Odyssey  119 Sparta is named first as it is the more important of the two places (93). The natural geographical order is restored (with Pylos mentioned first) when Athena reiterates the instructions (284–5), though the visit to Pylos will remain, even for Telemachus, essentially preparatory.10 Nestor will supply necessities for the journey (horses, 3. 475–6; a companion, 482–5; and provisions, 479–80). He begins to tell Telemachus what happened to the other Achaeans but the stories depend on Menelaus for their completion. As to his father, moreover, Nestor cannot supply the news Telemachus seeks (88, 184–5). For this too he exhorts Telemachus to go to Menelaus. ἀλλ᾽ ἐς μὲν Μενέλαον ἐγὼ κέλομαι καὶ ἄνωγα ἐλθεῖν· κεῖνος γὰρ νέον ἄλλοθεν εἰλήλουθεν, ἐκ τῶν ἀνθρώπων, ὅθεν οὐκ ἔλποιτό γε θυμῶι ἐλθέμεν, ὅν τινα πρῶτον ἀποσφήλωσιν ἄελλαι ἐς πέλαγος μέγα τοῖον, ὅθεν τέ περ οὐδ᾽ οἰωνοί αὐτόετες οἰχνέουσιν, ἐπεὶ μέγα τε δεινόν τε. (3. 317–22) But I suggest and recommend that you go to Menelaus. For he has returned recently from another [sort of] place, and from peoples, whence no man in his heart would hope to return, once storms had blown him off-course into so great a sea, that birds cannot traverse it in a single year, since it is vast and terrible.

Menelaus is especially authoritative not only because he is the most recently returned Achaean but because he has returned from the sort of place, the  ‘otherworld’ (ἄλλοθεν 3. 318), whence one would not expect to return (319–20). Even birds cannot easily escape (322). Although for Telemachus ‘the visit [to Pylos] is not very successful’, it is where Menelaus’ story begins.11 The warmth of the reception at Pylos, where Nestor’s son personally welcomes Telemachus, serves as a pro­spect­ive foil for the guests’ more formal greeting by a retainer, Eteoneus, at Sparta.12 The well-ordered but comparatively humble palace at Pylos is set against Sparta’s grandeur; and the piety of the Pylians, engaged in sacrifice when Telemachus arrives (3. 31–50) contrasts with the non-religious character of the wedding 10  Geographically Pylos is not quite halfway to Sparta; for ancient discussions of the poetic geography, Frame (2009) 657–71. Telemachus makes the voyage from Ithaca to Pylos comfortably within a single day (3. 1–5); from Pylos to Sparta is the journey of a day and a half, with an overnight stop in Pherae (a place included for its poetical, not geographical, significance; see Danek [1998] 95 ad 488–9). 11  de Jong (2001) 69. 12  Reece (1993) 59; de Jong (2001) 70; cf. Clay (1983) 184.

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120  Menelaus in the Archaic Period feast at Sparta (4. 3–19).13 The different character of the two places is reflected in the behaviour of the visitors. Telemachus’ first act upon arrival at Pylos is to offer sacrifice (3. 5–9) whereas at Sparta Telemachus and Peisistratus ­simply stand outside the palace and marvel (4. 20–2, cf. 43–4) until noticed by Menelaus’ henchman (22–3). In his palace and very person Nestor prepares the audience of the Odyssey for who Menelaus is not. Who Menelaus is begins to be disclosed in the story of his return. The nostos of Menelaus is told at first as one among several but soon takes pre­ce­ dence over the rest.14 Its importance is reflected not only in its length, extended over two books through the ‘piecemeal’ narrative technique, but also in the many ways it foreshadows and prepares for the story of Odysseus’ own return.15 Accordingly, when Menelaus picks up the story from Nestor as internal narrator, he is second only to Odysseus himself.16 By assimilating Menelaus’ return to that of Odysseus, the poet distinguishes his own nostos tale from others’.17 Nestor begins with a typical epic recusatio, ‘who could say’ all that we suffered (τίς κεν ἐκεῖνα / πάντά γε μυθήσαιτο 113–14).18 He evokes the Iliad (106–12), the Cypria (105–6), and the Ilioupersis (109).19 But Nestor’s version of the nostoi introduces a quarrel between the Atreidae sanctioned by Zeus (132–3).20 Athena has caused the quarrel (ἥ τ᾽ ἔριν Ἀτρείδηισι μετ᾽ ἀμφοτέροισιν ἔθηκεν 136).21 This quarrel is the source of the Greeks’ t­ roubles (133–5).22 The poet, in the tale of Nestor, adapts the traditional motif with which the Iliad begins (the outbreak of a quarrel after a feast, 3. 137;

13  S. West (1988) 158, 192–3; Reece (1993) 66–8, 86–7; de Jong (2001) 90–1. 14 Similarly, at Sparta, Odysseus is ostensibly the subject of the spouses’ reminiscences; cf. Olson (1995) 82–3. 15  Tsagalis (2012b) 312; West (2014b) 247–8. 16  Cf. de Jong (2001) 105–7; Beck (2012) 25. 17  Cf. Danek (1998) 85: ‘Die Odyssee präsentiert sich damit als Epos, das die Nostoi aller Griechen zum Thema hat und unter ihnen den Nostos des Odysseus als den bedeutendsten hervorhebt’; cf. 79–80. 18  Cf. Tsagalis (2012b) 319 n. 41. 19  Cf. Danek (1998) 78–9. 20  Zeus’ role often is indicated by the traditional formula Διὸς δ᾽ ἐτελείετο βουλή (Il. 1. 5): Notopoulos (1964) 33–4; Marks (2008) 1–3, 133–4; Petropoulos (2012) 297–8; Currie (2016) 2–3 with nn. 10, 11. 21  By alluding to the quarrel of Achilles and Agamemnon, Homer replaces Achilles with Odysseus as hero, Currie (2016) 44; cf. the position of Nagy [19992] 43–9 with ‘Homer’ conceptualized as the Homeric tradition. 22  Clay (1983) esp. 46–53; on the suppression of the rape of Cassandra, esp. Danek (1998) 80–8; cf. Petropoulos (2012) 291–3; Sammons (2014) 4 n. 9. There are hints of other changes in the post-Trojan context as well; Nestor insists that he and Odysseus never disagreed while at Troy (3. 126–9) but implies that they were no longer ‘of one mind’ (128); cf. Frame (2009) 175–6, 180–1.

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The Odyssey  121 cf. Cypr. arg. 5–8; Od. 8. 72–8) to a situation that the Iliad-poet takes great pains never to allow.23 ἥ τ᾽ ἔριν Ἀτρείδηισι μετ᾽ ἀμφοτέροισιν ἔθηκεν. τὼ δὲ καλεσσαμένω ἀγορὴν ἒς πάντας Ἀχαιούς— μάψ, ἀτὰρ οὐ κατὰ κόσμον . . . . (3. 136–8) And she [Athena] caused a quarrel between both Atreidae. And the two men  called all the Achaeans to an assembly, recklessly, and not in a seemly fashion . . . .

Benjamin Sammons proposes that behind the story of Nestor lies an earlier epic exemplar in which Menelaus is Agamemnon’s equal (rather than weak second-) in command.24 This attractive suggestion may be right; but the most important source-text for understanding the Odyssey’s Menelaus is the Iliad. Menelaus capitulates to his brother repeatedly in the Iliad not out of weakness or diffidence but in deference to his brother’s political authority as ἄναξ ἀνδρῶν (Il. 6. 55–62; 7. 109–21; cf. Il. 10. 122–3). After the fall of Troy, asserts Nestor, all of this changed. The Atreidae jointly called the assembly (Od. 3. 137). Contrast the comparable situation in the Iliad in which Agamemnon alone calls an assembly (Il. 2. 50–1) and council (402–4) to which Menelaus is not even invited (408–9). At the assembly after the Sack, reports Nestor, Menelaus spoke first, urging the Achaeans to leave at once. μῦθον μυθείσθην, τοῦ εἵνεκα λαὸν ἄγειραν. ἔνθ᾽ ἤτοι Μενέλαος ἀνώγει πάντας Ἀχαιούς νόστου μιμνήσκεσθαι ἐπ᾽ εὐρέα νῶτα θαλάσσης· οὐδ᾽ Ἀγαμέμνονι πάμπαν ἑήνδανε· (3. 140–3) They stated the matter, for what reason they had gathered the host. And then Menelaus urged all the Achaeans to take thought of their return across the broad back of the sea. But he did not please Agamemnon at all.

Sammons aptly comments that Menelaus is ‘more assertive’ in the story of Nestor than he appears in the Iliad.25 True, but it is more than this. The 23  Marg (1956) 16–29; Notopoulos (1964) 33; Clay (1983) 97–106; Pucci (1995 [orig. pub. 1987]) 220; Danek (1998) 82–3; Nagy (19992) esp. 22–5, 129–31; (2002) 170–8. 24  Sammons (2014) esp. 3–4; cf. Graziosi and Haubold (2010) 89. 25  Sammons (2014) 4.

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122  Menelaus in the Archaic Period detail that Menelaus refused to change his mind to gratify his brother (143) directly contradicts Menelaus’ characteristic mode of interaction with his brother.26 The relationship of Menelaus and Agamemnon as Nestor describes it is so much refigured that one might almost consider it, like certain Trojan War subjects on Greek vases, ‘anti-Iliadic’.27 And this is only the first of several examples of the poem’s interaction with the Iliadic Menelaus. Agamemnon was motivated by a desire to propitiate Athena (3. 143–5). Nevertheless, he was mistaken.28 νήπιος, οὐδὲ τὸ ἤιδε᾽, ὃ οὐ πείσεσθαι ἔμελλεν· οὐ γάρ τ᾽ αἶψα θεῶν τρέπεται νόος αἰὲν ἐόντων. (3. 146–7) Fool, for he did not know it, that she was not going to be persuaded. For the mind of the immortal gods is not easily changed.

Nestor claims that Agamemnon was ‘foolish’ for failing to understand that he would not be able to persuade nor change the minds of the immortal gods—and yet, Menelaus will turn out to do just this, trapping the god Proteus and forcing him to reveal the plans of the gods, cf. 4. 462 τίς νύ τοι, Ἀτρέος υἱέ, θεῶν συμφράσσατο βουλάς).29 The brothers’ disagreement results in divergent ways home and a sea change in their relationship. Their fates, like their nostoi, diverge: one to good (4. 561–9), the other to ill (3. 234–5).30 After the quarrel half of the army remains behind with Agamemnon while the other half sets sail immediately with Menelaus (155–7). Odysseus’ dusnostos is presaged by his return to Agamemnon after the army again is divided by strife on Tenedos (160–4).31 Menelaus’ late arrival at Lesbos likewise prefigures a delayed but not disastrous return, and he departs with Nestor (168–9).32 Agamemnon’s fate, as Nestor will soon reveal, is sealed 26  Menelaus would spare the suppliant Adrestus but Agamemnon persuades him not to (ὣς εἰπὼν ἔτρεψεν ἀδελφεόο φρένας ἥρως, / αἴσιμα παρειπών Il. 6. 61–2); in Book 7 Menelaus accedes to Agamemnon’s rebuke about fighting Hector (ὣς εἰπὼν παρέπεισεν ἀδελφεόο φρένας ἥρως / αἴσιμα παρειπών, ὃ δ᾽ ἐπείθετο· 7. 120–1). 27  Cf. Snodgrass (1998) 109 on ‘anti-Homeric’ images in Greek art. 28 ‘[D]ie Option des Agamemnon wird als falsch und damit die Option des Menelaus implizit als richtig behandelt’ (Danek [1998] 88); cf. Hölscher (19892) 95–6. 29  Menelaus on Pharos demands, and receives, a reliable answer to the question Agamemnon did not ask: ‘which of the gods is hindering me and thwarting my return across the fishy sea’ (Od. 4. 379–81 = 468–70). On the question, Versnel (2011) 43–9. 30  Frame (2009) 177–80; cf. Petropoulos (2012) 304–5. 31  Frame (2009) 185, 189–93. 32  ‘The homebringer’ (Od. 3. 182–4), Frame (2009) 189–90; cf. Marks (2008) 112–31. Diomedes returns to Argos, apparently safely (cf. Od. 3. 180–2; cf. Procl. 279–87); if Homer knows of a

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The Odyssey  123 (236–8).33 Nestor concludes what he knows of Agamemnon but leaves the remainder of the fatal return story to be completed by Menelaus (4. 512–37).34 Where was Menelaus when Agamemnon died, asks Telemachus (πῶς ἔθαν᾽ Ἀτρείδης εὐρὺ κρείων Ἀγαμέμνων; / ποῦ Μενέλαος ἔην; 3. 248–9); he must not have been ‘in Argos or Achaea, but wandering among men in some other place’ (ἦ᾽ οὐκ Ἄργεος ἦεν Ἀχαιϊκοῦ, ἀλλά πηι ἄλληι πλάζετ᾽ ἐπ᾽ ἀνθρώπους 251–2). Menelaus could not have prevented the death, Nestor implies, [but] would have taken revenge on the corpse of the villain if he had been home in time (256–61). Telemachus is chiefly interested in the outcome of Agamemnon’s return, for obvious reasons; but the question prompts Nestor to tell a lengthy story about Menelaus (3. 276–302).35 Nestor emphasizes their friendship, φίλα εἰδότες ἀλλήλοισιν (277), evoking a longstanding relationship between the two families evident in the Cypria (Cyp. arg. 26–7, frr. 16–17, below) that is implicit in the friendship of Menelaus and Antilochus in the Iliad. The Odyssey-poet transfers the Iliadic relationship to Nestor’s other son, Peisistratus. After the auspicious departure from Troy Menelaus undergoes a first delay at Sounion to bury his helmsman, a ‘trusty helper’ named Φρόντι[ς] Ὀνητορίδη[ς] (282).36 The speaking name reflects well on Menelaus; his pious commemoration of such a worthy pilot justifies the separation from Nestor.37 Menelaus’ decision to provide a proper burial foreshadows the rites he will perform in Egypt for Agamemnon (4. 583–4), and perhaps even alludes outside the fictional world of the poem, to the beginnings of a historical cult at Sounion (278–83).38 For the larger plot of the poem, moreover, the burial of Phrontis is an important point of similarity between Menelaus’ story and that of Odysseus, who is delayed to fulfil the pious

tradition regarding Diomedes’ unfaithful wife Aigaleia (Mimn. fr. 22 W2) he makes nothing of it; see Frame (2009) 184–5 with n. 79. 33  Even the gods cannot protect their favourites from death, as it is common to all (ἀλλ᾽ ἤτοι θάνατον μὲν ὁμοίϊον οὐδὲ θεοί περ / καὶ φίλωι ἀνδρὶ δύνανται ἀλαλκέμεν, Od. 3. 236–7); cf. Clay (1983) 139, 173–6. 34  Hölscher (19892) 99. 35  The death of Agamemnon is the overarching theme in the story of Nestor: the oresteia forms a frame around Menelaus’ return, as told by Nestor (Od. 3. 248–9, 301–12); told, as Olson (1995) observes, ‘almost entirely from Menelaus’ perspective’ (35). 36  The name Onetor has been discovered in at least one inscription from the cult site at Sounion, Theodoropoulou-Polychroniadis (2015) 8–10, 105–7. 37  Not a deficiency in Menelaus himself; cf. Frame (2009) 210. 38  Gratuitous mention that might seem to provide an aition of a cult already in existence at Sounion; see Theodoropoulou-Polychroniadis (2015) 8–9, 107–8; cf. Currie (2005) 53–4; Mazarakis Ainian (1999) 13 and n. 23; contra, Antonaccio (1995) 168–9.

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124  Menelaus in the Archaic Period ­ bligation for a less-worthy companion, Elpenor (11. 72–8).39 From the o point at which Menelaus goes his own way the poet makes Menelaus a foil for Odysseus by joining similarities in action with contrasting details.40 The details provided about the deceased might reflect on their leaders. Menelaus’ pilot is ‘sensible’, only struck down by illness (3. 279–80), whereas Elpenor is a fool (10. 552–60, cf. 11. 62–3) who falls while he is drunk (11. 61). The location of each man’s demise is also telling. Sounion, unlike Aeaea, is a ­recognizably real place, described with accurate geographical detail (3. 278, cf. 10. 135–41). Menelaus’ prompt and self-taken decision to honour the dead man contrasts with Odysseus’ thoughtlessness; all of which would seem to be part of Menelaus’ comparatively swifter return. And, on the basis of the episode, Menelaus would seem to be the ‘better’ of the two heroes. Sounion is less important for its geographical location (along the way from the Troad to the Peloponnese) or as a cult aition than what Menelaus did there. He is the first returning Achaean to memorialize another hero and, unlike Odysseus, he does not need to be told that, and how, he should do so (cf. Od. 11. 71–8). Sounion is the first of several known sites visited by Menelaus in the ­itinerary as told by Nestor. These ports of call also feature in Odysseus’ lying tales.41 The names of the places, at least, would have been familiar to many members of the audience. Yet Nestor insists that Menelaus’ return also took him to ‘novel’ and unfamiliar places and people (318–20 [above]). At Cape Malea Menelaus accomplishes another ‘first’ among the returning Achaeans. He is the first to be sent off-course there by the gods. ἐν νηυσὶ γλαφυρῆισι Μαλειάων ὄρος αἰπύ ἷξε θέων, τότε δὴ στυγερὴν ὁδὸν εὐρύοπα Ζεύς ἐφράσατο . . . . (3. 287–9) When he swiftly sailed up to the steep cliff of Malea in his hollow ships, then indeed far-thundering Zeus contrived a bitter course . . . .

39  Elpenor plays a part in Odysseus’ consultation with the prophet Teiresias and the dis­clos­ ure of his fate, whereas Menelaus’ rites for Phrontis are separated from his prophetic encounter with Proteus; cf. Heubeck (1989) 72–3. 40  Cf. Powell (1970); de Jong (2001) 4 (with bibliography at n. 3) et passim. 41 Cf. Od. 13. 256–66 (told to Athena); 14. 199–359 (Eumaeus); 19. 165–202 (Penelope). For Egypt, cf. Od. 14. 245–51, 257–8; 17. 426–7, 448. For Libya, cf. 14. 293–300. Cf. S. West (1988) 178, 192, 197–8; Osborne (2004a) 216–18; Levaniouk (2012); Tsagalis (2012b) 319–25 with n. 44.

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The Odyssey  125 The treacherous promontory, undoubtedly familiar if only by reputation to many in the audience, is a favoured Odyssean location for the gods to make trouble (cf. 9. 80). Menelaus will have more to say about the spot (4. 514–18). What Nestor knows is that Menelaus travelled from there to Crete and then Egypt, where he amassed a great deal of wealth (including gold [3. 291–302]). Nestor describes Crete, as visited by Menelaus, with extensive, ‘realistic’ geographic detail (3. 291–9). An alternate, ‘Cretan’ Odyssey might be the source-text.42 Crete is a key spot linking Menelaus with Odysseus, the most-frequently mentioned place in Odysseus’ lying tales. In the imagined geography of the poem, Hartog has described it as the boundary of the ‘second circle’ of mortal geography.43 Richard Martin shows how the poet of the Odyssey uses the spot thematically to conjure notions of ‘resistance, alterity, variation, and fictional embroidery’.44 The inclusion of a lengthy description of the place makes sense for Menelaus in his own right as well. In the Iliad Menelaus is associated with Crete by guest-friendship.45 Crete plays an important part in Menelaus’ genealogy and, it would seem, his traditional persona (pp. 184–5, 202–3; Appendix). Menelaus’ return voyage is undoubtedly more successful than Agamemnon’s, even leaving aside what happens once he arrives home. Menelaus brought back so many goods that his ships could scarcely carry them all (πολλὰ κτήματ᾽ ἄγων, ὅσα οἱ νέες ἄχθος ἄειραν 312). Having opposed his brother at the assembly after the fall of Troy, it would seem that Menelaus ‘leave[s] Agamemnon behind once and for all’.46 Menelaus concludes the story of his return with a virtual enactment of this new reality, symbolically burying his brother (4. 581–4). Still, his return depends on this pious act. Menelaus’ return story, as begun by Nestor, is highly significant for the Telemachy. It prepares for the joining-up of Telemachus’ story with his father’s and prefigures their successful reunion. Menelaus and Agamemnon are juxtaposed, meanwhile, in terms of homecoming and wife as ‘better and 42  The Zenodotean variant naming Crete, not Sparta, as Telemachus’ destination (ad Od. 1. 93, 285) is reported in the scholia, S. West (1988) 43, 65–6, 227; on its possible origin in alternative versions of Odysseus’ travel, cf. Danek (1998) 47–9; Tsagalis [2012b] 313–19; Levaniouk (2012) 373–80; West [2014b] 107–10; on the Cretan liefmotif in the Odyssey, Martin (Classics@3); for the Spartan orientation of ‘our’ Odyssey, Nagy (2017). 43  Hartog (2001) 23. 44  Martin (Classics@3) 12. Cf. Nagy (2017) 41–4 on the connection of Sparta and Crete with the Minoan-Mycenaean world in the Odyssey. 45 Cf. Il. 3. 230–3 (Idomeneus has visited Sparta); 13. 502, 581 (Menelaus fights alongside Idomeneus); Od. 3. 291–9 (Menelaus is delayed on Crete in the course of his return); for Menelaus’ visit to Crete while Paris is at Sparta, Cyp. arg. 14–15; cf. Il. 13. 627. 46  Frame (2009) 215.

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126  Menelaus in the Archaic Period worse than Odysseus’.47 Agamemnon and his household are thematically more important for the poem overall, serving as a negative paradigm for Odysseus and the situation in Ithaca (e.g. 3. 193–200, 254–312).48 Still, Agamemnon’s return is only one piece in the larger story of Menelaus.49 And Menelaus’ story, unlike that of Agamemnon, will prove to be more than merely a paradigm. Nestor has already told the end of Menelaus’ return story (cf. 311–12). When Nestor finishes his story Telemachus, and no doubt the audience, is invited to wonder, ‘where will Odysseus’ story end?’50 So Nestor, echoing Athena, bids Telemachus to visit Menelaus: ἀλλ᾽ ἐς μὲν Μενέλαον ἐγὼ κέλομαι καὶ ἄνωγα ἐλθεῖν· (3. 318–19)

Sparta As Book 4 opens a new day dawns at Sparta. The visit will surpass the ­twofold purpose set out for Telemachus (news of his father and renown for himself, Od. 1. 94–5).51 His reception at and departure from Sparta confirm a new-found heroic status that is later confirmed by Athena (13.  422–3).52 Telemachus will receive more than just the most current news on offer about Odysseus (4. 555–60). In due course he will be given two forms of divine guidance for his journey home, the seer Theoclymenus and a f­ avourable interpretation of a bird-omen along with a report about Ithaca from Helen (15. 176–8).53 Similarities between father and son in stature and nostos emerge at Sparta and at the end of the Sparta-narrative the story and timeline of the Telemachy fall into line with Odysseus’ so  that Telemachus and Odysseus arrive on Ithaca at more or less the same time.54

47  Olson (1990) 63–6; cf. Katz (1991) 41–5. 48  de Jong (2001) 77–83; Marks (2008) 17–35; West (2014b) 102. 49  de Jong (2001) 81; cf. West (2013) 248–9; (2014b) 163. 50 Hölscher (19892) 100. Telemachus and even Odysseus himself do not yet know the outcome of his story, though Menelaus does. 51  Cf. Olson (1995) 88–9. 52 Cf. Od. 4. 611–19; 15. 111–19, 151–3; de Jong (2001) 337. 53  Cf. Dillery (2005) 173–5.    54  Apthorp (1980) 12–22; de Jong (2001) 3–4, 90, 587–90.

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The Odyssey  127 Quite apart from its function for the Ithacans the Sparta-narrative is largely about Menelaus. The opening of the scene evokes the Iliad and prepares for what is to come. Nestor had dwelt on Menelaus’ relationship with Agamemnon at the fall of Troy and its aftermath. The poet defines Menelaus at Sparta as a member of a pair, too, but here the opposed figure is Helen. Later on, however, when Menelaus takes over as narrator he claims a story of his own that is distinct, for a time, from his brother and even his wife. οἳ δ᾽ ἷξον κοίλην Λακεδαίμονα κητώεσσαν, πρὸς δ᾽ ἄρα δώματ᾽ ἔλων Μενελάου κυδαλίμοιο. τὸν δ᾽ ηὗρον δαινύντα γάμον πολλοῖσιν ἔτηισιν υἱέος ἠδὲ θυγατρὸς ἀμύμονος ὧι ἐνὶ οἴκωι. (4. 1–4) They came to hollow Lacedaemon steep with ravines, driving straight to the palace of glorious Menelaus. They found him celebrating a wedding feast with his many relations for his son and lovely daughter, in his home.

Menelaus rules over ‘hollow Lacedaemon’ (4. 1), an echo of the formula in the Catalogue of Ships (Il. 2. 581). The epithet κυδαλίμοιο (2) is the preferred genitive epithet form when his name is placed at line-final position in the Iliad.55 Menelaus alone is mentioned as lord of the palace (2); giver of the feast (τὸν δ᾽ . . . δαινύντα 3) and father of a son and daughter (4) in his own οἶκος (4). Helen’s name is withheld at first, only to appear later in the context of their daughter Hermione (12). It is a seemingly minor but telling delay, recalling Menelaus’ unconcern for Helen in the Iliad and anticipating the divisive relationship between the two soon to appear. Unlike the feast at Pylos, the one offered by Menelaus is nuptial rather than religious and, atypically, a double wedding (4. 3–4, cf. 3. 31–3).56 The intratextual references to Pylos, along with intertextual evocation of the Iliad, set the pattern for the development of Menelaus’ Odyssean theme and character. Hermione was promised to Achilles’ son when their fathers were at Troy; the gods have ratified the marriage. 55  κυδαλίμοιο is always line-final in the Iliad; Μενελάου κυδαλίμοιο accounts for seven of eleven instances of the genitive epithet form (the remaining four examples are unica). The desire for a genitive epithet at Od. 4. 2 might explain the Odyssey-poet’s failure to adopt the epithet of the Iliadic source-passage (βοὴν ἀγαθὸς Μενέλαος Il. 2. 586). κυδαλίμοιο strengthens Menelaus’ connection with the protagonists of the Odyssey (of Odysseus, e.g. Od. 3. 219; Telemachus, 22. 238); cf. LfgrE 14. 1573. 56  Cf. S. West (1988) 193–4.

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128  Menelaus in the Archaic Period τὴν μὲν Ἀχιλλῆος ῥηξήνορος υἱέϊ πέμπεν· ἐν Τροίηι γὰρ πρῶτον ὑπέσχετο καὶ κατένευσεν δωσέμεναι, τοῖσιν δὲ θεοὶ γάμον ἐξετέλειον· (4. 5–7) He was sending her to the son of Achilles destroyer of men. For it was at Troy that he first had agreed and promised to give her [in marriage], and the gods were bringing their marriage to pass.

Both children are defined in terms of their Iliadic parents. Neoptolemus is  named only as ‘son of Achilles breaker of ranks of men’ (note Achilles’ Iliadic epithet ῥηξήνορος 5). Hermione’s name is delayed until the end, following Helen’s (14). The episode does not seem to make much sense in its context. ‘[K]aum glücklich motiviert’, it is not mentioned again.57 The intratextual function of the episode has been noted above, contrasting Menelaus with Nestor and, prospectively, Odysseus. By citing the Iliad it serves a programmatic function as well, joining the central Odyssean theme of marriage and children with the antecedent martial epic (cf. Od. 13. 363–81). The marriage-alliance of Menelaus’ and Achilles’ children evokes the fathers’ shared, more-glorious Iliadic past. The espousal of Menelaus’ child to Achilles’ may even have helped to secure the fall of Troy (4. 6–7).58 By the end of the Iliad Achilles’ and Menelaus’ chief aims have become aligned. The implicit alliance forged by Menelaus’ defence of Patroclus and Achilles’ return to battle is reflected in the marriage-alliance at Sparta. Menelaus’ daughter by Helen will marry Achilles’ son (5). As Fowler comments, the ‘sad sequel’ of this auspicious alliance is suppressed.59 Menelaus’ own son, by contrast, is marrying a local girl (10). υἱέϊ δὲ Σπάρτηθεν Ἀλέκτορος ἤγετο κούρην, ὅς οἱ τηλύγετος γένετο, κρατερὸς Μεγαπένθης, ἐκ δούλης· (4. 10–12) For his son he brought a maiden from Sparta, the daughter of Alector, [for] brave Megapenthes, who was his own favoured son, born to a slave woman. 57  Danek (1998) 95. 58 In light of post-Homeric poetry the alliance does not bode well: E.  Andr. 968–70; cf. Danek (1998) 95–6. 59  Fowler (2018) 53.

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The Odyssey  129 Megapenthes’ epithet τηλύγετος (11) has a distinguished Iliadic pedigree.60 But his name does not bode well for the present (11).61 The detail that he was born to a slave woman (12)62 might imply that Menelaus’ son does not bring him credit.63 The Hesiodic tradition preserves, by contrast, a happier marital outcome for Menelaus and Helen, the son Nicostratus whose name ‘speaks’ differently ([Hes.] fr. 175. 2).64 Megapenthes looks to be an invention of the poet of the Odyssey, setting his own story apart from the Hesiodic and Cyclic traditions. It casts Menelaus, like Odysseus, as a ‘man of pain’. After the introduction of Menelaus in Iliadic terms and with respect to Helen, the ensuing scene portrays another character-trait, that of host.65 The theme intertextually evokes the hospitality Menelaus offered Paris, with disastrous results (cf. Cyp. arg. 13). Intratextually, Menelaus’ hospitality, especially as compared with Nestor, is lavish.66 His generosity to Telemachus, moreover, reflects his esteem for Odysseus, whom he had hoped one day to welcome as guest (4. 171–82).67 Eteoneus brings Menelaus news of the strangers’ arrival and asks what is to be done about them and their horses (4. 26–9). Menelaus is furious at the notion that the youths should be sent away. οὐ μὲν νήπιος ἦσθα, Βοηθοίδη Ἐτεωνεῦ, τὸ πρίν· ἀτὰρ μὲν νῦν γε πάϊς ὣς νήπια βάζεις. (4. 31–2) 60  Helen uses τηλύγετος of Hermione in Iliad 3 (λιποῦσα / παῖδά τε τηλυγέτην Il. 3. 174–5). Agamemnon calls Orestes τηλύγετος (9. 143) and Nestor repeats the formula (285); cf. its occurrence in a simile told by Phoenix of the love Peleus felt for him (ὡς εἴ τε πατὴρ ὃν παῖδα . . . / μοῦνον τηλύγετον 9. 481–2). 61  A ‘speaking name’; cf. von Kamptz (1982) 32. The seemingly ad hoc name echoes the formulaic verse used in Menelaus’ aristeia of Menelaus’ anguish over the death of Patroclus, / . . . μέγα πένθος ἐνὶ στήθεσσιν ἀέξων, Il. 17. 139 (I owe this observation to Bruce Louden). Cf. Clader (1976) 30–2; Nagy (19992) 146 with n. 2; S. West (1988) 194; de Jong (2001) 91. 62  The scholia record a number of possibilities for the identity of the slave woman. ΣHMQR Od. 4. 12, which may reflect the opinion of Aristarchus, reports that doule (12) is a proper name, since elsewhere in Homer it is never used with the sense ‘maidservant’ (thus Severyns [1928] 378); cf. West (2013) 285–6. 63  Menelaus’ stature would seem to be diminished by the fact that his only son is a bastard (legitimate sons augment their fathers’ position in Homeric society, but bastards do not: cf.  Wöhrle [1999] 35; Osborne [2004a] 214). On Megapenthes as reflective of the role of bastard sons in foundation stories, Rose (2012) 140–1 with n. 18. 64  Eum. fr. 9 attributes another bastard son to Menelaus: Xenodamos, fathered by Menelaus with a Knossian woman. 65  Athenaeus refers extensively to this episode in his discussion of proper conduct at a ­symposium (Athen. 5. 185a–192b). 66  Reece (1993) 59–67. 67  Cf. S. West (1988) 51: in the first books of the Odyssey, Telemachus ‘shines by reflected light’.

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130  Menelaus in the Archaic Period You were not foolish, Eteoneus son of Boethous, before; but now you babble foolishly like a child.

The ‘rejected suggestion’ speech-type ‘bring[s] out Menelaus’ hospitality and his preoccupation with the past, which is to play such a large role in the ensuing conversation.’68 But the rebuke is rather strong for the putative offence. There is nothing in Eteoneus’ words that imply childishness (32). The strength of the rebuke has led some to conclude that Menelaus is overzealous.69 The narrative inconsistency raises the possibility of an inter­text­ual allusion. And indeed the sentiments evoke Menelaus’ rebuke to Antilochus in the Funeral Games, where it makes more sense. Menelaus forgives the young man for reckless driving, since he has never before been foolish or flighty (. . . οὔ τι παρήορος οὐδ’ ἀεσίφρων / ἦσθα πάρος, νῦν αὖτε νόον νίκησε νεοίη Il. 23. 603–4). The Odyssean passage is not a quotation of the Iliad, to be sure, yet it evokes one of Menelaus’ favourite Iliadic themes, youthful folly vs prudence (cf. Il. 3. 108–10). The passage in the earlier epic occurs at a significant (and potentially memorable) moment in the Iliad. After the rebuke Menelaus goes on to lecture Eteoneus about hospitality, a theme also dear to him in the previous poem, specifically Paris’ violation thereof (Il. 3. 353–4; 13. 626–7). Its evocation in the present context establishes continuity between the character in the two Homeric epics. It expands the hospitality theme that was chiefly of concern to the Iliadic Menelaus into one of signal importance for the Odyssey and its hero. ἦ μὲν δὴ νῶϊ ξεινήϊα πολλὰ φαγόντε ἄλλων ἀνθρώπων δεῦρ’ ἱκόμεθ’, αἴ κέ ποθι Ζεύς ἐξοπίσω περ παύσηι ὀϊζύος. (4. 33–5) We certainly consumed much hospitality provided by other men while travelling here, hoping that Zeus in the future would put an end to our pain.

Menelaus is an expert practitioner of the Odyssean value.70 His reflections on its past, present, and future ramifications implicitly portend well for

68  de Jong (2001) 91. 69  Cf. Hohendahl-Zoetelief (1980) 177–83; Reece (1993) 93; de Jong (2001) 91. 70  Cf. Most (1989) 25; Reece (1993) 78.

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The Odyssey  131 Telemachus, too, who will return to Ithaca with lavish gifts.71 Finally, Menelaus’ remarks point past the completion of the nostos to that of Odysseus (cf. ὀϊζύος 35), who will rely on the hospitality of many hosts before returning home (33–4).72 The wistful αἴ κέ ποθι (34) might indeed have been uttered by Odysseus himself, still lost at sea.73 The guests are washed and anointed with oil, offered fresh garments, and given seats next to their host. They are brought precious washing-vessels and a feast is set out (48–62). The use of precious metals is the first in a series of passages marking Menelaus as exceptionally wealthy and favoured by the gods. The impression is reinforced when the beds are prepared. Formulaic phrases that recur in the Phaeacian episode make Sparta seem rather like Scheria (4. 297–300 = 7. 336–9) than Pylos (cf. 3. 397–9).74 Menelaus’ hospitality is so lavish that it extends even to the horses (39–46), an uncommon variation of a hospitality type-scene.75 The only other Homeric instance of ‘horse hospitality’, in the Iliad, involves the return of Athena and Hera to Olympus (Il. 8. 432–7).76 While the traditional theme is suited to its context in each epic the Spartan horse-reception scene shares certain important attributes (and a repeated verse formula) with that on Olympus (Od. 4. 42 = Il. 8. 435). In the Iliad the goddesses do not join the other gods (μίγδ᾽ ἄλλοισι θεοῖσι 8. 437) until their horses are attended to by the Horai. Telemachus and Peisistratus, after their horses have been fed, also enter a divine house (αὐτοὺς δ᾽ εἰσῆγον θεῖον δόμον Od. 4. 43) possessed by a divinely nurtured king (κατὰ δῶμα διοτρεφέος βασιλῆος 44). Although the ‘re-use’ of Iliadic phraseology here may be non-meaningful (‘irriflesso’, in di Benedetto’s terminology), an audience who knows its Iliadic context will appreciate the similitude and what it might imply about Menelaus and Sparta.77 The 71  Menelaus does pose a certain measure of threat to Telemachus as the pleasures of his palace might delay his return. But it, too, is a leitmotif conforming him to the Odyssean type; cf. Reece (1993) 34–5; Burgess (2012). 72  de Jong (2001) 105–7. 73  ὀϊζύος might allude to the name of the hero; cf. Nestor’s response to Telemachus’ request for information about Odysseus (ὦ φίλ᾽, ἐπεί μ᾽ ἔμνησας ὀϊζύος, Od. 3. 103); Pucci (1995 [orig. pub. 1987]) 38 n. 13, 57–8. 74  Cf. Reece (1993) 86–7, emphasizing the ‘impersonal coldness’ of Sparta rather than its divinity. 75  Cf. S. West (1988) 195; Reece (1993) 76–8. 76  The horses, like the human guests, are offered a change of clothes/halter (39, cf. 50); they are led to the table/manger (40, cf. 51); their burden (spear/chariot) is leaned against the wall (42; cf. 1. 127–9); and they are given a good meal (41, cf. 52–66); Reece considered the absence of other examples of ‘horse hospitality’ fortuitous; but it is possible that Menelaus’ magnanimity even towards the noble horses reflects his character; cf. Reece (1993) 78–9. 77  Cf. di Benedetto (2007) 691–2.

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132  Menelaus in the Archaic Period youths’ reaction is wonder at the brilliance of the palace (44–6) and all of the gold (53, 58). Menelaus’ possession of quantities of gold is becoming a characteristic feature (cf. 3. 301) and Telemachus remarks on it (4. 73). Menelaus’ daughter is like ‘golden’ Aphrodite (4. 14) and his wife resembles Artemis with her ‘golden’ arrow (122).78 Once Menelaus’ visitors take their seats Telemachus confirms the analogy between Menelaus’ palace and the palace of Zeus in his ill-concealed remark to Peisistratus about the ‘brazen gleam’ (72) of gold, amber, silver, and ivory (73), as great a quantity as in the Olympian halls of Zeus himself, Ζηνός που τοιήδε γ’ Ὀλυμπίου ἔνδοθεν αὐλή, / ὅσσα τάδ’ ἄσπετα πολλά· (74–5).79 The palace of Menelaus is more than spectacular; it fills Telemachus with a sense of religious awe (σέβας μ᾽ ἔχει εἰσορόωντα 75). Menelaus has already recognized Telemachus’ and Peisistratus’ nobility (. . . γένος ἐστὲ διοτρεφέων βασιλήων / σκηπτούχων, ἐπεὶ οὔ κε κακοὶ τοιούσδε τέκοιεν 63–4). He now overhears Telemachus (76) and cautions him that no mortal man can vie with the gods in their possessions.80 τέκνα φίλ’, ἤτοι Ζηνὶ βροτῶν οὐκ ἄν τις ἐρίζοι· ἀθάνατοι γὰρ τοῦ γε δόμοι καὶ κτήματ’ ἔασιν· ἀνδρῶν δ’ ἤ κέν τίς μοι ἐρίσσεται ἠὲ καὶ οὐκί κτήμασιν· (4. 78–81) Dear children, no mortal man could rival Zeus. For his dwellings and his possessions are eternal. Among men, however, perhaps someone might vie with me, or perhaps not, for wealth.

Menelaus does not deny that some men are specially favoured by the gods and readily acknowledges that, as regards wealth, he has no peer among mortals. Here is something new. Menelaus’ wealth is largely elided in the Iliad, although he once reminds the Achaeans that they have feasted at his and his brother’s expense (cf. Il. 17. 248–55). Wealth was the basis for Menelaus’ success in the contest for Helen, however, a trad­ition­al detail that is evoked in Menelaus’ response to Telemachus (cf. [Hes.] fr. 198. 24–5). Menelaus 78  Cf. Brown (1998) 392–4. 79  ἤλεκτρον (73) refers in the Odyssey to amber rather than electrum (the nat­ur­al­ly occuring alloy of gold and silver), despite the Lydian provenance of the alloy; cf. Od. 15. 460; 18. 295–6 with S.  West (1988) 197; Athanassakis (2002) uses the probable reference to amber here to argue in favour of a northern provenance for the story of Proteus (esp. 45–6, 56). 80  On the focalization, de Jong (2001) 94.

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The Odyssey  133 expresses himself with characteristically Iliadic sententiousness; the piety, like the hospitality, is not merely for show.81 Menelaus’ wealth arises from more, however, than his family and his successful return (cf. 3. 312). The poet is preparing to demonstrate how apt the formula διοτρεφέος βασιλῆος is, and how fittingly Menelaus is given the epithet θεῖον, ‘divine’ (43).82 The splendour of the palace rivals that of the Phaeacians; the similarities between the two, along with the gifts given, reflect divine favour (cf. 7. 86–102).83 And Menelaus has Helen.84 Helen is surrounded with brightness as she enters the hall accompanied by hand­maidens bearing glittering goods (silver basket 125; golden distaff 131). The supernaturally bright Helen contrasts with an increasingly melancholy Menelaus as he is brought under her shadow.85 Menelaus’ relationship to Helen is a prominent theme in his depiction in the Odyssey, in contrast to the Iliad, and it is marked by a distinct undercurrent of tension.86 Menelaus’ conformity to the traditional type of gracious host is reflected in his discretion toward Telemachus’ identity.87 He hesitates, wondering whether he ought to mention Odysseus straight­away or first question and test the young man (4. 116–20). Menelaus recognizes in Telemachus the same quality praised by Antenor in Odysseus: fine speech, αἵματός εἰς ἀγαθοῖο, φίλον τέκος, οἷ᾽ ἀγορεύεις (4. 611; cf. Il. 3. 222–3). Helen, by contrast, speaks out immediately upon her entrance (138–46). She identifies the boy not by his speech but by his appearance (141–6).88 Telemachus later will commemorate Helen by means of the same quality, not speech but sight (17. 118). At present Menelaus agrees with Helen, allowing her to take the upper hand, but interprets Telemachus’ grief as further proof of his

81  Cf. his address to Telemachus as ‘son’ (78), Wöhrle (1999). Gnomes and sententiae are characteristic of the Iliadic Menelaus (Il. 3. 108–10; 7. 97–102; 13. 636–9; 17. 19–23; 23. 604). 82  Cf. de Jong (2001) 92. 83  The Phaeacians are ‘near the gods’ in geographical location, heredity, and manner of ­living, Clay (1983) 170–2; cf. Brown (1998) 398–401. Bad hospitality is an important theme in all the tales Odysseus tells on Scheria (Most [1989] 23–6); the narrative function of these tales is to persuade the Phaeacians to show themselves to be good, not bad hosts, and not to delay his return (Od. 6. 119–21); cf. Most (1989) 26–30; Reece (1993) 79, 103–4; cf. Dougherty (2001) 107, who considers the parallels to cut in the other direction. Cook (1992) revives Welcker’s notion that Scheria is a type of Underworld/afterlife, emphasizing similarities between Scheria and Elysium and noting the mention of Rhadamanthys in both contexts; cf. esp. 239–40 with earlier bibliography at n. 2. 84  Cf. Edmunds (2016) 86–91, 236–8; Parker (2016) 4–5 with n. 19; cf. West (1975); Clader (1976) 29–31; Skutsch (1987); Rozokoki (2011). 85  Reece (1993) 77; cf. Clay (1983) 184. 86  Olson (1989); cf. Katz (1991) 46–7, 61–2; Olson (1995) 83–6; Zeitlin (1996) 409–11. 87  Reece (1993) 81–3. 88  Cf. de Jong (2001) 27.

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134  Menelaus in the Archaic Period paternity (151–4). The poet’s thematization of the relationship between Menelaus and Helen will be continued in the stories they tell.

The Stories of Helen and Menelaus Homer uses repeated actions, speeches, and relationships to portray Menelaus in the Iliad. In the Odyssey Menelaus’ character is portrayed chiefly through speech and relationship rather than action, in the stories told to Telemachus at Sparta.89 The first exchanges align Menelaus’ nostos with that of Odysseus but concludes with an evocation of Menelaus’ Iliadic relationship with a different hero, Antilochus (4. 81–215). Helen initiates a second round of stories with herself as the focus (235–89). But Menelaus looks forward to exchanging stories with Telemachus the next day, alone, . . . μῦθοι δὲ καὶ ἠῶθέν περ ἔσονται / Τηλεμάχωι καὶ ἐμοὶ διαειπέμεν ἀλλήλοισιν (214–15). The private conversation envisaged by Menelaus takes place the following morning with a curious doubling back of the narrative on itself and a second ‘reception’ type-scene. Menelaus’ third story, about Proteus, conforms him to the type of the Odyssean hero while it foretells a fate uniquely his own.90 Menelaus begins to come into his own as narrator in his first account of his return. Telemachus has come in search of authoritative information which— along with peerless wealth (4. 90–1, cf. 3. 301)—is what Menelaus has gained in the course of his return.91 As he tells it, Menelaus’ nostos was different not only in length but in kind from all the others to date, setting the stage for Odysseus whose return will prove to be longest and most fabulous of all.92 Menelaus is prompted to tell the story of his return not, like Nestor, by a question from Telemachus. Instead he overhears Telemachus’ awe at the splendour of his palace (σέβας μ᾽ ἔχει εἰσορόωντα 75). Having reminded Telemachus of the importance of piety (4. 78–81) Menelaus begins his story with ‘suffering’ (81), a theme important for the Iliad and the Odyssey. . . . ἦ γὰρ πολλὰ παθὼν καὶ πόλλ᾽ ἐπαληθείς ἠγαγόμην ἐν νηυσί, καὶ ὀγδοάτωι ἔτει ἦλθον (4. 81–2) 89  Cf. Olson (1989). 90  The successive storytelling-sessions interact with multiple song-traditions: the ‘alternative Odyssey’ traditions (the nostos of Menelaus), cyclic traditions (the fall of Troy), and the märchen tradition (the encounter with Proteus); cf. Peradotto (1990) 62–3, 82–3; Petropoulos (2012b) 307–8. 91  Cf. Beck (2012) 30. 92  Beck (2012) 28–30 with further bibliography at 204 n. 13; Petropoulos (2012) 292–5.

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The Odyssey  135 Having suffered much and wandered far I carried home my wealth in my ships and arrived in the eighth year.

Menelaus’ statement that he has ‘suffered much’ (ἦ γὰρ πολλὰ παθών 4. 81) evokes his Iliadic anxiety over others’ efforts on his behalf (e.g. Il. 3. 99–100). The next clause, καὶ πόλλ᾽ ἐπαληθείς (‘having wandered widely’ 81), evokes the wanderings of Odysseus. ‘Suffering’ expresses a point of continuity from Menelaus’ character in the Iliad and joins him to the hero of the Odyssey.93 The correspondances between the two heroes continue in the itinerary of his return; but any implicit reference to ports of call visited by Paris in the rape of Helen probably is secondary.94 Κύπρον Φοινίκην τε καὶ Αἰγυπτίους ἐπαληθείς, Αἰθίοπάς θ’ ἱκόμην καὶ Σιδωνίους καὶ Ἐρεμβούς καὶ Λιβύην, ἵνα τ’ ἄρνες ἄφαρ κεραοὶ τελέθουσιν.  85 τρὶς γὰρ τίκτει μῆλα τελεσφόρον εἰς ἐνιαυτόν· ἔνθα μὲν οὔτε ἄναξ ἐπιδευὴς οὔτέ τι ποιμήν τυροῦ καὶ κρειῶν οὐδὲ γλυκεροῖο γάλακτος, ἀλλ’ αἰεὶ παρέχουσιν ἐπηετανὸν γάλα θῆσθαι. (4. 83–9) Having wandered to Cyprus, Phoenicia, and Egypt, I came to the Aethiopians and Sidonians and Erembi, and to Libya, where the rams are horned from birth. Three times in one single year the ewe gives birth to young; and there neither the lord nor the shepherd ever lacks cheese or meat or sweet milk, for the ewes produce milk continuously, the whole year through.

Nestor had earlier mentioned only real-world places such as Odysseus visit­s in the lying tales, including Cape Malea, Crete, and Egypt, casting Menelaus as a ‘type’ of Odysseus’ alter ego. In his own version of the return story Menelaus becomes a type of Odysseus himself. Menelaus’ story is complementary to Nestor’s, adding important eastern entrepôts and other African spots. It adds something thematically, as well. In claiming to have travelled to other-worldly places Menelaus aligns his path with Odysseus’.95

93  Pucci (1995 [orig. pub. 1987]) 57–8; de Jong (2001) 95. 94  Cf. Danek (1998) 291. 95  For Cyprus, cf. Od. 8. 362; 17. 442–3, 448. Phoenicia: 13. 272; 14. 288; 15. 415–19. Egypt: 14. 246, 257–8; 17. 426–7, 448; cf. S.  West (1988) 197–8; de Jong (2001) 591–3; Osborne (2004a) 216–18; Tsagalis (2012b) 311–28.

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136  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Menelaus’ version is not a mere catalogue of ‘the chief coastal lands and peoples of the S.E. Mediterranean’96 and it is not a commercial expedition.97 Eighth- and seventh-century exploration and/or colonization might have influenced the itinerary, but not its meaning.98 Menelaus, like Odysseus, is less a (proto-) trader than a divinely favoured hero.99 Both men travel beyond the boundaries of the known world; Menelaus, like Odysseus, ul­tim­ate­ly owes his successful return to a god.100 Telemachus too, emboldened by Menelaus’ report of what the god has told him, will make a successful return home.101 Menelaus’ itinerary (including Phoenicia, the Sidonians, and Libya) is  farther flung and less realistic than Nestor’s version. The location of Phoenicia is uncontroversial (83) though Menelaus’ report that he has seen both Phoenicia and ‘Sidonians’ (83, 84) appears somewhat otiose.102 Elsewhere in the poem the terms seem to be interchangeable; for example, a Phoenician woman (15. 417) is reported to be ‘from Sidon’ (425). Libya is probably a ‘realistic’ locale in the archaic period, and the allusion might be to the spot later known as the harbour of Menelaus (Hdt. iv. 169).103 Yet the ‘salient features’ of Libya are supernatural curiosities, adunata (Od. 4. 85–9). The Libya to which Menelaus refers is not realistic; it is a quasi-paradisial place of supernatural fecundity, more akin to Ethiopia than to Cyprus or Sidon.104 Egypt is the only spot mentioned by both Nestor and Menelaus, third in Menelaus’ list of ‘real’ locations (4. 83) and last in Nestor’s version of the return (3. 300). Egypt is mentioned repeatedly over the course of Book 4, as the source of two distinct types of guest-gifts received separately by 96  Stanford (19592) 270. 97  Cf. Dougherty (2001) 48; though it is true that the hero/trader motif is prominent in the poem overall, see Rengakos (2002) 186 with n. 51. 98  Cf. Malkin (1994) 48–9 (reflecting archaic colonization); cf. Bowra (1955) 38–9 (late Mycenaean activity). 99  Menelaus’ wealth consists in property (the palace and lands that he controls as lord of Sparta) and moveable luxury goods, including those gained in the course of his return from Troy. His joint successes as traveller and lord contrast with the privations suffered by Odysseus, who travels the Mediterranean bereft and finally returns to a home under seige; cf. Dougherty (2001) 48. 100  e.g. Powell (1970) 428–9; Danek (1998) 96–7; Kelly (2006) 189. 101  Cf. Steinrück (1992) 56–60. 102  Strabo (i. 38) took Σιδωνίους (84) to refer to Phoenician colonies; cf. S. West (1988) 198; López-Ruiz (2010) 27. Sidonians and Phoenicians alike are characterized as pirates or traders (e.g. 15. 415–16) and fine craftsmen (4. 618; Il. 23. 743–4). Phoenicians are craftsmen (Il. 6. 288–92), and scoundrels; see S. Morris (1997) 611–12. 103  See Malkin (1994) 48–52. 104  Thus de Jong (2001) 95; contrast S. West (1988) 198 (the ‘digression on pastoral life in North Africa surely reflects an interest in the colonization of Cyrenaica’).

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The Odyssey  137 Menelaus and Helen and then as the location of Menelaus’ consultation with Eidothea and Proteus. Whether or not the poet was familiar with Egyptian geography (cf. 4. 477, 581), and whatever the dating of its various details, it is the most significant of the places for understanding Menelaus’ character.105 ‘Realism’ is of little importance here.106 The Egypt as visited by Menelaus and Helen, as Burkert and many others have observed, has a distinctly ‘fictionalized’ character.107 Danek proposes that a pre-existing Helen-in-Egypt story might have predisposed the poet to ‘park’ Menelaus there en route to Sparta—though its prominence in the Odyssey would ­perhaps indicate that the influence goes the other way.108 Before speaking further about his own return Menelaus must conclude the story of Agamemnon.109 Like Nestor, Menelaus implicates Agamemnon’s death in his nostos but reacts to it differently (cf. 3. 303–12). εἷος ἐγὼ περὶ κεῖνα πολὺν βίοτον ξυναγείρων ἠλώμην, τείως μοι ἀδελφεὸν ἄλλος ἔπεφνεν λάθρηι, ἀνωϊστεί, δόλωι οὐλομένης ἀλόχοιο· ὣς οὔ τοι χαίρων τοῖσδε κτεάτεσσιν ἀνάσσω. (4. 90–3) While I was wandering around those places amassing a great livelihood, then another man slew my brother in secret, unobserved, through the trickery of a destructive wife. And so I take no joy in being lord of this wealth.

Nestor concluded his account of Agamemnon’s death with a re-affirmation of Menelaus’ success as measured by the many goods he acquired (3. 312). Menelaus mentions these too (4. 90) but claims that because of the tragic effect of the delay he takes pleasure neither in the wealth nor in his (restored) position as ‘lord’ (93). Menelaus concludes the nostos, therefore, as he began it, with chagrin (cf. 4. 81). He expresses the grief implicit in the name of his son; his sadness

105  The description of Egypt and its gifts might reflect Greek knowledge of Egypt from the Late Bronze Age, cf. Lorimer (1950) 85–6; Bowra (1955) 20–1; Hankey and Aston (1995) 70–2; Griffith (2001), (2008) 2–5; or the archaic period, e.g. S. West (1988) 192; cf. Finglass (2013) 38–9 with further bibliography at nn. 16–17. For archaic knowledge of Egypt, Dillery (2018) esp. 20–2. 106  Müller (1997) 203 with n. 14. 107  e.g. Müller (1997) 203–5; Davies (2002) 23 with earlier bibliography at n. 72; von Lieven (2006) 64–8; Tsagalis (2012b) 331–5. 108  Danek (1998) 113–15, 291. 109  Frame (2009) 177–8; cf. West (2014b) 167.

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138  Menelaus in the Archaic Period inspires grief in the others.110 It is true that grieving is a traditional part of the heroic experience and lamentation is a typical motif in Homer, especially at a banquet.111 Yet Menelaus’ repeated articulation of grief is singular and characteristically his own. His sorrowful recollection of Odysseus soon will cause Telemachus to weep (113) and later, his words will move Peisistratus and Helen to tears as well (183–9).112 Menelaus says of himself that he is prone to frequent fits of sorrow (100–1). He adds, however, that he does not mourn unremittingly. ἄλλοτε μέν τε γόωι φρένα τέρπομαι, ἄλλοτε δ᾽ αὖτε παύομαι· (4. 102–3) Sometimes I indulge my heart by mourning, but then again I stop.

This has been thought an odd way for Menelaus to conclude.113 The proclivity for sententiousness was shown in Menelaus’ pious statement to Telemachus about men vying with the gods (Od. 4. 78–81) and alliteration (ἄλλοτε δ᾽ αὖτε) and antitheses (ἄλλοτε μέν . . . ἄλλοτε δ᾽ 102) evoke Menelaus’ heightened rhetoric in the Iliad. A still closer interaction with the Iliad follows. παύομαι· αἰψηρὸς δὲ κόρος κρυεροῖο γόοιο— τῶν πάντων οὐ τόσσον ὀδύρομαι, ἀχνύμενός περ, ὡς ἑνός, ὅς τέ μοι ὕπνον ἀπεχθαίρει καὶ ἐδωδήν μνωομένωι, ἐπεὶ οὔ τις Ἀχαιῶν τόσσ’ ἐμόγησεν . . . . (4. 103–6) . . . I stop. For a surfeit of chilling sorrow comes swiftly—for all the others, I do not mourn so much, though I am grieved; as for one, who makes sleep and eating hateful to me, when I remember him, since no one of the Achaeans toiled so much . . . .

Menelaus says that he experiences a sudden ‘surfeit’ of sorrow (103), κόρος κρυεροῖο γόοιο. The formula quotes the memorable statement on satiety with which Menelaus concludes his apologia in Iliad 13 (636–9; above pp. 84–5). 110  On the op­pos­ition between penthos and kleos, Nagy (19992) 94–117; cf. Katz (1991) 68: ‘This function of grief . . . conditions the pervasive theme of lamentation in the Odyssey and provides a context for understanding Telemachus’ grief in Book 4’. 111  For grieving in the proemia of nostos stories (cf. Od. 3. 103–4), Petropoulos (2012) 303–6; cf. Nagy (19992) 97; Marks (2008) 117–19. 112  Cf. Currie (2016) 106–7. 113  ‘Menelaus’ speech becomes somewhat flaccid and incoherent’, remarks S. West (1988) 199.

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The Odyssey  139 In the Iliadic text, Menelaus utters a priamel stating that in the normal course of affairs everything finds its surfeit (πάντων μὲν κόρος ἐστί Il. 13. 636), even sleep and love-making, song and dancing (636–8); only Trojan wantonness could cause an insatiable thirst for battle (639). Likewise, here, Menelaus’ grief over his own nostos and others’ does eventually find surfeit. But the suffering of one—soon revealed to be Odysseus (Od. 4. 107)—causes even sleep and food to be abhorrent to him (104–5). Menelaus’ regret over Odysseus exceeds the normal, moderate limits that he himself outlines in the Iliadic source. Grief over the loss of Odysseus would seem, moreover, to surpass even the outrageous battle-lust of the Trojans, causing Menelaus to fall victim to excess, not in a surfeit but in a denial of the most basic human goods. One might suppose that Menelaus’ persistent sorrow in the Odyssey reflects a traditional attribute of his character, especially in a reductive view that the basic characterization of Menelaus is ‘as the man who has lost his wife—for in fact the most important thing Menelaus ever did for epic was to lose Helen in the first place’.114 Even if it were true of the earlier Greek epic tradition (though the Iliadic formulae tell against it) the Homeric poets take pains to refigure the source of his chagrin. Menelaus in the Iliad often evinces regret and sorrow, but always for the sufferings of his comrades. In  the Odyssey, as Menelaus tells it, his sadness is all for his (now-lost) companions: previously, his brother Agamemnon (4. 90–3) and, as we now learn, the absent Odysseus.115 . . . ἐπεὶ οὔ τις Ἀχαιῶν τόσσ’ ἐμόγησεν, ὅσσ’ Ὀδυσεὺς ἐμόγησε καὶ ἤρετο. τῶι δ’ ἄρ’ ἔμελλεν αὐτῶι κήδε’ ἔσεσθαι, ἐμοὶ δ’ ἄχος αἰὲν ἄλαστον κείνου, ὅπως δὴ δηρὸν ἀποίχεται, οὐδέ τι ἴδμεν, ζώει ὅ γ’ ἦ τέθνηκεν. (4. 106–10) . . . since no one of the Achaeans toiled so much, as Odysseus toiled and endured. As for him, sufferings were to be his, and for me, unforgettable anguish for him, because he has been gone for so long, and we know nothing at all about whether he lives or has died.

114  Clader (1976) 32. 115  Cf. Clay (1983) 184, who explains Menelaus’ absence of sorrow for Helen in the Odyssey by the fact that he has now regained her (she is ‘no longer a casus belli’).

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140  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Odysseus’ name was already implied by Menelaus in a (typically Odyssean) riddling etymological allusion (τῶν πάντων οὐ τόσσον ὀδύρομαι, ἀχνύμενός περ / ὡς ἑνός 4. 104–5).116 Menelaus finally names him (107) and cites his loss as the especial source of his own sorrow (οὐ τόσσον . . . ὡς ἑνός 104–5):117 more than for the others, even Agamemnon (cf. 90–3).118 So acutely does Menelaus feel it that he expresses it as ἄχος . . . ἄλαστον (109), a variant of the Homeric formula πένθος ἄλαστον expressing grief for the loss of a close relative (e.g., Od. 1. 342).119 In the Iliad, ἄχος is strong mental anguish; it is what Achilles feels when sorely provoked by Agamemnon in the quarrel (Il. 1. 188). Menelaus colludes with the Odyssey-poet’s project to supplant the Iliadic hero with his own.120 One might also perceive an evocation of the preceding epic.121 In the Funeral Games Menelaus forgives Antilochus because he and the Neleidae not only ‘suffered’ but ‘toiled’ on his behalf (πόλλ᾽ ἔπαθες καὶ πόλλ᾽ ἐμόγησας Il. 23. 607). Later, recalling Odysseus, Menelaus again employs the Odyssean verb μογέω (cf. 4. 106, 107).122 ὢ πόποι, ἦ μάλα δὴ φίλου ἀνέρος υἱὸς ἐμὸν δῶ ἵκεθ᾽, ὃς εἵνεκ᾽ ἐμεῖο πολέας ἐμόγησεν ἀέθλους· (4. 169–70) Ah, see now, truly indeed the son of a man very dear to me has come to my house, who toiled in many trials for my sake.

Menelaus combines a phrase expressive of grief like that felt for the loss of a one’s kin (ἄχος . . . ἄλαστον 108) with his characteristic sense of indebtedness for the toils undertaken on his behalf (πολλ᾽ ἐμόγησας Il. 23. 607) to describe his grief for Odysseus.123 And Menelaus aligns Telemachus’ sorrow for his father with his own (cf. 152–3).

116  ὀδύρομαι and its cognates ‘name’ Odysseus, Clay (1983) 54–64; Pucci 1995 [orig. pub. 1987]) 65, cf. 183 n. 6. The etymology is explained at Od. 19. 407–9; cf. de Jong (2001) 477–8. 117  Menelaus’ mention of Odysseus toiling on his behalf (104–5) employs the verb μογέω, commonly in the Od. of Odysseus; τόσσ’ ἐμόγησεν (107) is a variant of the formula πολλὰ μογήσας (e.g. Od. 2. 343). 118  West (2014b) 167–8. 119  Cf. Clader (1976) 32. 120  Cf. Nagy (19992) 69–82; Hirschberger (2012); Muellner (2012); Grethlein (2017). 121  West (2014b) 72 noted an Iliadic allusion earlier in the passage, proposing that Od. 4. 104–5 is modelled on Il. 22. 424–5. 122  The formula πολλὰ μογήσας in the Iliad refers to Achilles’ ‘toils’ in winning Briseis (Il. 2. 690); cf. Pucci 1995 [orig. pub. 1987]) 57 with n. 7; Grethlein (2017). 123  Cf. Clader (1976) 31–2.

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The Odyssey  141 We hear again evoked the Iliadic sense of responsibility for the sufferings undergone by his companions. But Menelaus specifically attributes his chagrin to the loss of Odysseus (171–2) whom, if he should return, Menelaus would resettle in Argos (174–82). Whatever ‘Argos’ means here, geo­graph­ ic­al­ly, the Odyssey consistently places it within Menelaus’ sphere (cf. 3. 251; 4. 562; 15. 79–85). Menelaus’ friendly and hospitable impulse, to ‘resettle’ Odysseus from his home on an island at the periphery of the heroic world to its notional centre, would add geographical proximity to the intimacy he wishes to claim with the father of Telemachus.124 Menelaus’ dramatic longing for Odysseus surpasses anything he might owe; it is sorrow over the loss of a close friend.125 And so general lamentation ensues (183–9) while Telemachus breaks into tears for a second time (185, cf. 113–4) and now not even Helen is exempt (184). Peisistratus cries too, but not for Odysseus. οὐδ᾽ ἄρα Νέστορος υἱὸς ἀδακρύτω ἔχεν ὄσσε· μνήσατο γὰρ κατὰ θυμὸν ἀμύμονος Ἀντιλόχοιο (4. 186–7) Nor were the eyes of the son of Nestor free from tears. For he remembered in his heart worthy Antilochus.

Peisistratus mourns Antilochus, killed by ‘the splendid son of shining Dawn’ (4. 188), a probable allusion to the slaying of Antilochus by Memnon.126 Peisistratus recalls Antilochus’ swiftness but withholds his name until the end, where it is revealed in an emphatically enjambed verse-initial position (περὶ δ᾽ ἄλλων φασὶ γενέσθαι / Ἀντίλοχον, περὶ μὲν θείειν ταχὺν ἠδὲ μαχητήν 201–2; cf. Il. 15. 570). Danek remarks that since Homer seems to invite the audience to infer a special connection between Menelaus and Antilochus, ‘man könnte dahinter eine in konkreten Daten des Mythos gründende enge Beziehung zwischen den beiden Helden vermuten’.127 We need not look far, for the Iliad has shown it to us. The Iliadic friendship between Menelaus and Antilochus is evoked and, specifically, the non-verbatim quotation of Iliadic themes brings the culmination of their friendship—their quarrel and reconciliation at the Funeral Games—back into view.128 124  See Larran (2019) 17–38. 125  Bergren (1981) 212–13 considers Menelaus’ language so strongly affective that it belongs to the ‘discourse of sexuality’, noting that it is coupled with its (seeming) opposite, funereal discourse (ἐμισγόμεθ’ 178, φιλέοντέ τε τερπομένω τε 179, ἵμερον . . . γόοιο 183). 126  For which, Davies (2016) 16–19, 31–6. 127  Danek (1998) 100. 128  Cf. Danek (1998) 101.

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142  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Peisistratus assures Menelaus that he and his family think of Menelaus often. Ἀτρείδη, περὶ μέν σε βροτῶν πεπνυμένον εἶναι Νέστωρ φάσχ᾽ ὁ γέρων, ὅτ᾽ ἐπιμνησαίμεθα σεῖο οἷσιν ἐνὶ μεγάροισι καὶ ἀλλήλους ἐρέοιμεν. καὶ νῦν, εἴ τί πού ἐστι, πίθοιό μοι· (4. 190–3) Son of Atreus, lord Nestor used to declare that you were wise beyond [other] men, when we remembered you at our home and questioned one another. And so now, if it is somehow possible, would you heed me?

Nestor commemorates Menelaus in Odyssean terms, for showing ‘good sense’ (πεπνυμένον εἶναι 190). The quality—or the lack thereof—is what caused the rupture between the two families in the Iliad when Antilochus abandoned his ‘good sense’ in the chariot race (Ἀντίλοχε, πρόσθεν πεπνυμένε, ποῖον ἔρεξας Il. 23. 570).129 In spite of the breach of trust Menelaus declares that Antilochus is perhaps the only Achaean who would have been able to persuade him to make amends (οὐ γάρ κέν με τάχ᾽ ἄλλος ἀνὴρ παρέπεισεν Ἀχαιῶν 23. 606). Menelaus forgives Antilochus out of the mutual esteem between their families (Il. 23. 607–8; cf. 570–1, 576). Peisistratus, in the present instance, also uses persuasion (πίθοιό μοι Od. 4. 193, cf. Il. 23. 606)—but to put an end to Menelaus’ mourning rather than his wrath (Od. 4. 193–5).130 He concludes with a mention of Antilochus. καὶ γὰρ ἐμὸς τέθνηκεν ἀδελφεός, οὔ τι κάκιστος Ἀργείων· μέλλεις δὲ σὺ ἴδμεναι· οὐ γὰρ ἐγώ γε ἤντησ᾽ οὐδὲ ἴδον· περὶ δ᾽ ἄλλων φασὶ γενέσθαι Ἀντίλοχον, περὶ μὲν θείειν ταχὺν ἠδὲ μαχητήν. (4. 199–202) For my brother too is dead, not at all the worst of the Argives. You are likely to have known him. I myself did not meet him nor see him. But they say that Antilochus surpassed all others, in swiftness of foot and as a warrior.

Peisistratus tells Menelaus that ‘you [of all men] should have known’ Antilochus (μέλλεις δὲ σὺ ἴδμεναι· 200), especially his pre-eminence in 129  What Nestor had recommended as μῆτις ([Odyssean] craftiness, Il. 23. 313) Menelaus calls ‘sharp practices’ (ψεύδεσσι 23. 576). 130  Reece (1993) 31–2.

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The Odyssey  143 swiftness and in warfare (202). Peisistratus never witnessed his brother in battle (cf. 200–1) but Menelaus—of all Iliadic heroes—did. Antilochus fought alongside him on several occasions in the Iliad, even saving his life. And at the pivotal moment in the rescue of Patroclus’ corpse, Menelaus sent him running to fetch Achilles (Il. 17. 685–701, cf. 652–5). Swiftness is probably a traditional quality of Antilochus, and it mirrors the swiftness of Achilles. Peisistratus’ pointed reminder that Menelaus especially knows, however, might specifically engage the Iliadic relationship.131 It is almost as if Peisistratus were repeating (though not verbatim) Menelaus’ own words back to him, once uttered to Antilochus in the thick of battle (Ἀντίλοχ᾽, οὔ τις σεῖο νεώτερος ἄλλος Ἀχαιῶν, / οὔτε ποσὶν θάσσων οὔτ᾽ ἄλκιμος ὡς σὺ μάχεσθαι· Il. 15. 569–70, cf. p. 87). Menelaus would seem to have grasped the point, recognizing Peisistratus as guest-friend and praising his own ‘good sense’, in words and deed like one [Antilochus?] who is his elder.132 ὦ φίλ᾽, ἐπεὶ τόσα εἶπες, ὅσ᾽ ἂν πεπνυμένος ἀνήρ εἴποι καὶ ῥέξειε, καὶ ὃς προγενέστερος εἴη (Od. 4. 204­­–5)133 Dear friend, you have said such things as a sensible man would say and do, even one who was your elder.

Peisistratus has reminded Menelaus of Antilochus. The evocation of their Iliadic friendship and quotation of Iliadic verses invite the audience to understand Menelaus as the same hero of the Iliad in many respects, though now subject to ‘great grief ’ for the loss of Odysseus and increasingly dom­in­ ated by his wife. Helen disperses the nostalgia when she steps forward and laces the wine with nepenthes (219–34).134 The uncanny tactic demonstrates the same independence from her husband already apparent in the welcome of Telemachus (4. 138–46).135 As for Menelaus, though he no longer looks to his brother (cf. Il. 10. 123) he now falls under the sway of his wife. Helen initiates a second round of stories, about the fall of Troy, with a direct address to Menelaus (235; cf. 138). He answers with his own very 131  Nickel (2002) 221–3. 132  Cf. the emphasis on Antilochus’ youth, Il. 15. 569; 23. 587, 604. 133  Cf. Wöhrle (1999) 34, considering Menelaus a father-figure to Peisistratus as well as Telemachus; addressing both young men as ‘dear children’ (τέκνα φίλ᾽ Od. 4. 78). 134  Other drugs that bring ‘forgetfulness’ include the lotus (Od. 9. 97) and Circe’s drug (10. 236). Helen’s differs in that it is ‘good’ (ἐσθλά 4. 228) but Reece (1993) aptly remarks that ‘there is still something sinister about a drug that will allow a man to endure tearlessly the death of his mother and father and the murder of his own brother or son (4. 224–6)’ (85). 135  On the gods’ wide-ranging sight, Clay (1983) 13–15.

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144  Menelaus in the Archaic Period different account of the same episode (266–89).136 Menelaus and Helen, as narrators of their stories, continue and develop themes already explored.137 Cyclic epic looms large and the poet evokes the tradition, along with the Iliad, to portray Menelaus and his relationships with Helen, Odysseus, and the past.138 Yet any possible interaction with the tradition is less important to the stories than what they reveal about the Odyssean characters involved. Helen begins the first story with a narratorial introduction (4. 239–40) without self-reflexively alluding to any known version or song.139 While the ostensible subject of the paired stories about the Sack of Troy is Odysseus (241–3, 267–70) their overriding theme becomes Helen.140 The opposed stories of Helen and Menelaus make them potential parallels for Odysseus and Penelope, emphasizing Odysseus’ strength and anticipating the peril awaiting him at home.141 The stories function as ‘argument’, praising Odysseus’ cunning and endurance and evaluating Helen’s behaviour after the fall of Troy; and ‘key’, anticipating elements of the second half of the poem.142 But for Menelaus the themes of disguise and recognition will take on added importance in the final story he will tell, which is chiefly about himself.143 Helen picks up the theme most often articulated by Menelaus in the Iliad, how much the Achaeans suffered at Troy (ὅθι πάσχετε πήματ’ Ἀχαιοί 4. 243).144 But she concludes the story of Odysseus, curiously enough, by praising Menelaus. Helen claims to have rejoiced at the fall of Troy, for she was eager to return to her former life (259–61): child, marriage, and to her husband ‘who lacked nothing, in intelligence nor appearance (πόσιν τε / οὔ τεο δευόμενον, οὔτ’ ἂρ φρένας οὔτέ τι εἶδος 263–4). The statement has struck some as remarkably hollow, but it is consistent with Helen’s claim in the Iliad that Menelaus is a better warrior than Paris (Il. 3. 429). Instead of 136  Like Olson (1989), on whom much of my discussion depends, I consider the speeches of Menelaus and Helen to reveal latent mistrust and a troubled relationship; Katz (1991); de Jong (2001) 101–2; Janka (2001) (from a rhetorical standpoint). Differently, Minchin (2007) con­siders the two stories collaborative (278); thus Beck (2012) 40–2 (with reluctance). 137  Cf. Bergren (1981) 208–10; Olson (1989) 387–8; Danek (1998) 105. 138  Danek (1998) 106–11. 139  Cf. Currie (2016) 27 with n. 131. 140  Olson (1989) 388–9, 392–4; Reece (1993) 85–6; Scodel (2008) 116–17. 141  Cf. Olson (1989) 391–4; Katz (1991) 54–5, 130. 142  ‘It should not surprise us . . . if the scene at Sparta also serves to sharpen the outlines of the portrait of Odysseus . . . the poet has added perspective by which we can judge the character of Odysseus, a man who starts from the limits of Menelaus’ character’, Anderson (1958) 9–10; cf. Katz (1991) 40, 47, 79–81; 180–3. 143  Cf. Lonsdale (1988) 165. 144  Helen’s reminder of the sufferings of the Achaeans brings her culpability into question but declines to resolve the issue; cf. Danek (1998) 104–5; Scodel (2008) 117.

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The Odyssey  145 warfare, as in the Iliad, Menelaus outstrips Paris in the personal qualities of intelligence and good looks, φρένας . . . εἶδος (Od. 4. 264).145 Menelaus responds with his own version of the adventure of the Trojan horse (Od. 4. 271–89).146 Menelaus, like Helen, praises Odysseus but reveals more about himself and Helen.147 He contradicts several of her claims (274–9, cf. 261–2) and includes the telling detail that Helen approached the Trojan horse accompanied by Deiphobus (276).148 His presence implicitly undercuts Helen’s asserveration that she valued Menelaus as husband more highly than anyone else (263–4), even though it does not necessarily invalidate its truth.149 Deiphobus will be mentioned again later in the Odyssey with important consequences, as we shall see, for our understanding of Menelaus (cf. 8. 516–18).150 Menelaus, characteristically, emphasizes anxiety about his own bravery (cf. Il. 17. 26–7, 93–5). Odysseus was obliged to restrain him from leaping out of the Trojan horse when Helen came near (4. 282–4) in order that he not betray the Achaeans inside (278–9). The story overall seems to amount to a tacit admission that Menelaus was unable to withstand Helen’s wiles (281–3).151 Odysseus’ behaviour, by contrast, was marked by restraint, even to the point of covering the mouth of Anticlus who would give them away (286–8). Thus Odysseus preserved the lives of many Achaeans until the threat—Helen—had gone (4. 288–9).152 The contrast between Menelaus’ susceptibility and Odysseus’ restraint will later be reversed when Odysseus shows a similar inability to hold his tongue when provoked, to disastrous consequences (9. 500–1). Just as Helen ended her story with Menelaus, he  directs his concluding remark to her (τόφρα δ᾽ ἔχ᾽, ὄφρα σε νόσφιν . . . 4.  289). Whereas Helen ostentatiously praised him, though, Menelaus speaks of Helen as a threat hardly to be withstood, and only with the aid of Athena (287–9). 145 Cf. Σ ad Il. 17. 589; Bergren (1981) 207–9; Olson (1989) 389; de Jong (2001) 103. 146  The first of several versions within the Odyssey of the wildly popular story; cf. Danek (1998) 110–11; de Jong (2001) 103; Petropoulos (2012) 299–301; West (2013) 41. 147  Olson (1989) 389–90. 148  Menelaus, like Helen, attributes her perfidious conduct to divine intervention (δαίμων 275, cf. ἄτην δὲ μετέστενον, ἣν Ἀφροδίτη / δῶχ’, 261–2), even while implying that she herself is still to blame (de Jong [2001] 102). 149  Cf. Olson (1989) 390. 150  The identity of Helen’s third husband is presupposed by Homer (cf. Il. parv. arg. 10); his death at the hands of Menelaus alone appears in the Ilioupersis (Il. exc. arg. 14–15); Odysseus is the hero in Demodocus’ version (Od. 8. 517–18). Cf. Danek (1998) 111, 158–9. 151  Cf. Olson (1989) 390: Odysseus functions as his ‘dramatic alter-ego’, behaving as Menelaus himself ‘ought to have acted’. 152  On the intra-textual resonance, Danek (1998) 111.

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146  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Telemachus, ignoring Helen, addresses Menelaus again and concludes with a return to the theme of suffering, Ἀτρείδη Μενέλαε διοτρεφές, ὄρχαμε λαῶν, ἄλγιον· οὐ γάρ οἵ τι τά γ᾽ ἤρκεσε λυγρὸν ὄλεθρον, οὐδ᾽ εἴ οἱ κραδίη γε σιδηρέη ἔνδοθεν ἦεν. (4. 291–3) Menelaus son of Atreus, fostered by Zeus, leader of the host, this is all the more painful. For it did not in any way ward off bitter destruction from him, even if his heart within were made of iron.

Telemachus has not yet heard what he wants about his father and it is from Menelaus that he seeks to learn it. When the stories resume the following morning the interlocutors and stories based in the Iliadic and epic trad­itions, Peisistratus and Helen, are all but forgotten, leaving Menelaus and Telemachus alone (4. 306).

Proteus and the Afterlife of Menelaus The next day dawns and a new scene opens, having much to do with Menelaus and very little to do with Helen. Menelaus springs out of bed and dresses as if for a departure (4. 306–10). The formulaic passage reiterates a common (‘dressing’) type-scene (cf. 2. 1–5); though unlike in other instances this journey will take place only in memory.153 Telemachus’ arrival at Sparta is re-enacted, and now it is as if he had arrived by ship. Apparently unconscious of Telemachus’ mode of arrival on the previous day, not to mention the elaborate care of the horses, Menelaus asks Telemachus what need has impelled him ‘across the broad back of the sea’ (4. 312–13). Telemachus makes a second request for information about Odysseus (316–31).154 The stories of Helen and Menelaus about the fall of Troy are all but forgotten (cf. 312). The poet uses the seemingly abrupt narrative ‘reset’, we shall see, to focus attention on Menelaus not only as part of the story of Telemachus and Odysseus but in his own right. Menelaus foreshadows Odysseus, to be sure, in taking on the role of narrator but he also displays an authority wholly his own.155 Menelaus acknowledges 153  Cf. de Jong (2001) 44–5. 154  Cf. the request on the previous day proferred by Peisistratus, Od. 4. 162–7. 155  de Jong (2001) 76–7, 106–7, 221–7; Beck (2012) 28–30.

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The Odyssey  147 Telemachus by name (312–14; cf. Helen’s initiative earlier on, 144) and calls him ἥρως (312), the first speaker in the Odyssey to do so.156 Telemachus, in response, modifies the do ut des formula of prayer to remind Menelaus of  his reciprocal obligations to his father. If Odysseus ever had promised Menelaus anything and fulfilled it at Troy, he should tell him all he can of his return (328–31).157 Menelaus’ response, when it comes, confirms his dependence on the gods for his knowledge. But first he addresses the situation on Ithaca in a familiar display of heightened speech. Menelaus utters the first compound rhetorical figure of the poem, a developed simile (4. 335–40) followed by a wish and an exemplum (341–6). The lion simile is the most common Homeric type but this instance features embellishments suited to the context and speaker.158 ὡς δ᾽ ὁπότ᾽ ἐν ξυλόχωι ἔλαφος κρατεροῖο λέοντος νεβροὺς κοιμήσασα νεηγενέας γαλαθηνούς κνημοὺς ἐξερέησι καὶ ἄγκεα ποιήεντα βοσκομένη . . . . (4. 335–8) Just as when, in the wooded lair of a great lion, a hind has put to sleep her newborn milk-fed fawns and roves around in the foothills and grassy glens, grazing . . . .

Menelaus compares Odysseus to a lion that discovers fawns in his den, put to sleep there by their mother (4. 338–40). The tenor of the simile (the suitors’ cowardice and unwitting peril) The tenor of the simile (the suitors’ cowardice and unwitting peril) is plain enough. The vehicle has been considered odd since antiquity, however, criticized for seemingly faulty logic and zoological detail.159 Still it works, presaging the destruction of the suitors and the important role of the mother in the operation of fate. And it makes even better sense when we consider that the simile is perfectly in character for Menelaus as we have come to know him in the Iliad. The image is tender: the lion is not emphasized as much as its hapless victims and the mother deer. In making the hind with her young its subject (335–6) the simile recalls 156  de Jong (2001) 104. 157  Reece (1993) 87–8 elaborates on a suggestion in the scholia that Menelaus tacitly refuses an implied request by Telemachus to provide help ‘in deed’ (i.e. military aid), offering it only ‘in word’ (news of his father), cf. 87 n. 24. Reece takes the implicit refusal as reflecting poorly on Menelaus’ character as host in the immediate narrative context, although necessary for the overall narrative (vengeance is to be exacted by Odysseus). 158  The first of five lion similes in the poem; all but one used of Odysseus’ revenge against the suitors (cf. Od. 6. 130–6); cf. Pucci (1995 [orig. pub. 1987]) 158 with n. 1. 159  Σ ad loc.; S. West (1988) 213–14.

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148  Menelaus in the Archaic Period two Iliadic similes: the cow, newly delivered of her calf, in the simile placed at the beginning of Menelaus’ aristeia (μήτηρ / πρωτοτόκος κινυρή, Il. 17. 4–5); and the vulnerable child, asleep and in need of protection, in the wounding of Menelaus by Pandarus (Od. 4. 336; cf. Il. 4. 130–1). The present simile is meant to be memorable. Telemachus later repeats it, verbatim, to Penelope (Od. 17. 126–31).160 Anacreon seems to have remembered it as well.161 Menelaus continues with an exemplum embedded in a wish.162 αἲ γάρ, Ζεῦ τε πάτερ καὶ Ἀθηναίη καὶ Ἄπολλον, τοῖος ἐών, οἷός ποτ᾽ ἐϋκτιμένηι ἐνὶ Λέσβωι ἐξ ἔριδος Φιλομηλείδηι ἐπάλαισεν ἀναστάς, κὰδ δ᾽ ἔβαλε κρατερῶς, κεχάροντο δὲ πάντες Ἀχαιοί, τοῖος ἐὼν μνηστῆρσιν ὁμιλήσειεν Ὀδυσσεύς· (4. 341–5) I wish that—by Father Zeus, Athena, and Apollo,—being as [strong as] he was long ago on well-built Lesbos when he stood up after a challenge and wrestled with Philomeleides, and threw him mightily, and all the Achaeans were glad— that, being such, Odysseus would take on the suitors!

The overarching wish is formally a prayer, and somewhat redundant. ‘I wish that—[by] Father Zeus, Athena, and Apollo—Odysseus would take on the suitors!’ (341, 345).163 An evocation of the Iliad might lie behind the naming of these three gods. Athena and Apollo (340), patrons of the Achaeans and Trojans, recall the war in general; Menelaus’ familiar mention of Zeus as ‘father’ recalls his imprecations of the god in the Iliad in particular.164 Menelaus’ desire to see Odysseus return ‘the same sort of man as he was . . . on Lesbos’ is also mildly puzzling. After the mention of Athena, Apollo, and Zeus, and in light of the stories he and Helen have told on the previous day, we might have expected Menelaus to remember Odysseus at Troy. An allusion to a traditional story seems to be at hand. The scholia transmit Hellanicus’ version of an episode in which Odysseus and Diomedes kill Philomeleides after he challenged his visitors to a wrestling match 160  An impressively long-range intratextual allusion, cf. Currie (2016) 17 n. 101. 161  ἀγανῶς οἷά τε νεβρὸν νεοθηλέα / γαλαθηνὸν ὅς τ᾽ ἐν ὕληι κεροέσσης / ἀπολειφθεὶς ἀπὸ μητρὸς ἐπτοήθη (Anacr. PMG 408)—though the two passages might also depend on a common source. 162  Cf. de Jong (2001) 105. 163  Danek (1998) 111–13 compares the earlier mention of Odysseus’ escapade on Ephyre (Od. 1. 255–66) which also involves Athena, and a wish (cf. Ἀθηναίη 4. 341). 164 Cf. Il. 3. 320, 365; 13. 631; 17. 19, cf. 17. 46.

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The Odyssey  149 (FGrH 4 f 150 [= fr. 150 Fowler]).165 The notable oddity of the exemplum, like the simile that precedes it and the wish in which it is embedded, ­specially marks it. Like the preceding simile, the entire passage will be repeated by Telemachus later on (Od. 17. 132–7). In short, whether trad­ition­al or not, its intratextual reference is of chief importance. Menelaus is predicting something very important to Telemachus, and something new, about his father. Menelaus offers an authoritative though still-potential Doppelbild of the end of Odysseus’ story (ὡς . . . ὣς 335, 340; αἲ γάρ . . . / τοῖος ἐών, οἷός ποτ᾽ 341, 342). Both simile and exemplum depict Odysseus against the suitors as a decisive victor against inferior opponents. It is the first image so far of ‘der “klassischen” Heldenideal’ and it offers the possibility that Odysseus will overcome the suitors ‘in heroischer Manier, nicht durch einen δόλος’.166 And in this version Menelaus—not Diomedes—was Odysseus’ companion. After the opening gambit in which Menelaus has inserted himself into a seemingly traditional story, evoking his Iliadic rhetorical style, he becomes assimilated to the Odyssean type of hero, culminating in the entrapment of Proteus and revelation of his prophecy (4. 450–570). Menelaus promises, as Odysseus disingenuously claims he will do, to tell a reliable tale, 'straight, no tricks’ (347–8; cf. 14. 192).167 The overall point is to confirm the desired outcome on Ithaca as (nearly) certain. As an extended story-within-a-story it is a precursor to the apology of Odysseus, combining folk tale with typical epic motifs.168 Menelaus’ story anticipates such exploits as Odysseus’ encounter with the shape-changer Circe (10. 210–25, 310–44) and the theophany of Athena (13. 287–9).169 The consultation of Teiresias in the Underworld is prefigured as well (10. 538–40).170 Menelaus’ trick to elicit the prophecy, disguising himself as an animal, foreshadows the most mem­ or­able of Odysseus’ escapades (on the evidence of early vase-painting), the encounter with Polyphemus.171 Proteus, like Circe, is a master of animals.172 165 Cf. ΣM ad 4. 463; Danek (1998) 112–13; West (2014b) 171 with n. 41. S. West (1988) 214 doubts that the audience was expected to know these details, though the notion of a Greek raid on Lesbos does seem to have been traditional (cf. Il. 9. 129–30, 664). 166  Danek (1998) 316. 167  Cf. Scodel (2002) 65–6. 168  Danek (1998) 115–16. 169  Plass (1969); Clay (1983) 165–6 (Circe), 197–8 (Athena); Block (1985) 3; S. West (1988) 218; Louden (2011) 113–15, 118–23; Dué (2012) 181; Hunter (2012) 85; on Thetis’ trans­form­ations in the Cypria, cf. Davies (2019) 42–3. 170  Cf. Davies (2002) 23. 171  Cf. Powell (1970) 429; Lonsdale (1988) 175 n. 10 with further bibliography; Buchan (2004) 149–53. The blinding of Cyclops is one of the earliest identifiable narrative subjects from Greek mythology on Protoattic vases; see Giuliani (2013) 70–7; as evidence for cultural contact between Greeks and Etruscans, cf. Malkin (2002) 161–2. 172  Burkert (1979) 95–6.

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150  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Menelaus’ exploit is the first incursion of the folk-tale type in the poem.173 The poet has shaped the Proteus episode to reveal Menelaus’ character, as well, beginning with the location in a ‘fictionalized’ (if not downright fictional) Egyptian setting, the island of Pharos.174 The Proteus episode thus takes on a life of its own, temporarily effacing not only the Telemachy but even the story of Odysseus. The narration of Menelaus’ encounter with Proteus is something like an epyllion, composed, as Strabo observed, ἡδονῆς καὶ τέρψεως χάριν (i. 2. 30)—and Vergil seems to have recognized in choosing to compose his own version (G. 4. 387–530; cf. Callim. SH fr. 254. 5–6).175 Homer reveals a dimension of Menelaus’ character not yet seen in the tradition. He becomes, like Proteus himself, ‘insaisissable’.176 The abruptness of the transition from Sparta to Pharos signals the beginning of Menelaus’ extraordinary transformation. ταῦτα δ᾽, ἅ μ᾽ εἰρωτᾶις καὶ λίσσεαι, οὐκ ἂν ἐγώ γε ἄλλα πάρεξ εἴποιμι παρακλιδόν, οὐδ᾽ ἀπατήσω, ἀλλὰ τὰ μέν μοι ἔειπε γέρων ἅλιος νημερτής, τῶν οὐδέν τοι ἐγὼ κρύψω ἔπος οὐδ᾽ ἐπικεύσω. (4. 347–50) But as to what you ask about and entreat me to tell, I will not digress and speak of other things nor deceive you; and what the unerring old man of the sea told to me, of these things I shall not hide nor conceal one word.

The Old Man of the Sea makes an abrupt appearance as guarantor of Menelaus’ reliability (4. 347–8).177 He is at first, as elsewhere in Homer, ‘properly anonymous’.178 His emergence, however, is not prepared for by 173 Thompson, Motif Index, F 420, 4.10; Powell (1970) 427–8; Lonsdale (1988) 175 nn. 7, 11; S. West (1988) 215; Athanassakis (2002); Davies (2002) 23, 25 n. 80; Buchan (2004) 50–71. 174  The name Pharos might be borrowed from a genuine Egyptian place-name such as the relatively common Pr–H. r (‘House of Horus’) (S. West [1988] 215–6) or Pr– Rͅ (‘House of Re’) (S. Morris [1997] 613); cf. Hankey and Aston (1995) 70; von Lieven (2006) 65. 175  Cf. Thomas (1986) 319. 176  Gourmelen (2010) 48. 177  Danek (1998) proposes that Proteus was invented by Homer to take the place of the omniscient (primary) narrator of an earlier nostos poem (113). Cf. Petropoulos (2012), proposing that Proteus already appeared in the Cyclic Nostoi (308). 178  S. West (1988) 215. The ‘Old Man of the Sea’ (γέρων ἅλιος) appears again in the Odyssey only once, in Book 24 as unnamed father of the Nereids (Od. 24. 58). γέρων ἅλιος in the Iliad always denotes the (otherwise unnamed) father of Thetis (cf. 1. 538, 556; 18. 141; 20. 107) which would indicate that his identity ought to be Nereus who, like Proteus, speaks the in­fal­ lible truth (Hes. Th. 233, 236; cf. Paus. iii. 21. 9).

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The Odyssey  151 anything in the accounts of the nostoi thus far.179 Certain details of Menelaus’ palace and return hint at his closeness to the divine but nothing has prepared the audience for a hoary Meerdämon. Indo-European, Egyptian, and native Greek antecedents have been identified as possible source-texts.180 Folk-tale character-types act within the typical scenes of a traditionally constructed epic narrative.181 The story reveals why it was so important that Telemachus seek out Menelaus. Menelaus is uniquely reliable (νημερτής 4. 349) because he possesses the prophetic knowledge of Proteus.182 Menelaus functions as a medium of sorts for Telemachus, providing him the key that unlocks the story of his father. It ultimately promises that father and son both will enjoy successful returns.183 Having cited his unusual source of authority (350) Menelaus begins a new nostos story, in typical epic fashion, ‘there is an x . . . ’.184 νῆσος ἔπειτά τίς ἐστι πολυκλύστωι ἐνὶ πόντωι Αἰγύπτου προπάροιθε, Φάρον δέ ἑ κικλήσκουσιν. (4. 354–5) There is an island in the surging sea in front of Egypt, and they call it Pharos.

Typically for nostos stories, there is a delay (360–1).185 Unlike at the de­part­ure from Troy narrated by Nestor, however, it was Menelaus who was delayed due to a failed sacrifice (Αἰγύπτωι μ᾽ ἔτι δεῦρο θεοὶ μεμαῶτα νέεσθαι / ἔσχον· 4. 351–2; cf. 3. 143–6).186 Two traditional consultation type-scenes follow the formulaic opening (4. 354–5). The characters, though reminiscent of folk-tale types, have thoroughly Greek (and suspiciously ad hoc sounding) names. Eidothea cor­res­ponds to both the ‘daughter who acts against her father’ and ‘helper’ 179 Cf. Il. 1. 358: The Old Man is to be found with Thetis, ἐν βένθεσσιν ἁλός. 180  For the view that the provenance of the story ultimately derives from Egypt, Nilsson (19503 622–33 [via the ‘Minoans’, 622–5]); Alford (1991); Griffith (2001), (2008) 13–30; Bonifazi (2009) 483–4. For a Mesopotamian/Near Eastern provenance: Burkert (1960/1) 208–13, cf. Burkert (20112) 302–3; Cook (1992) 259–67; West (1997) 166–7; Louden (2011) 113–23; while Detienne and Vernant consider it ‘native Greek’, (1974) 111–14; see S.  West (1988) 218 with further bibliography. For other possible poetic debts to Egyptian religion in the Odyssey, Griffith (2001) 216–17. For the popularity of Proteus and Pharos later on in antiquity (e.g. Poseidippus Ep. 115 [Austin-Bastianini]), Schröder (2008). 181  Cf. O’Nolan (1960). 182  Cf. Clay (1983) 13, 150–1; cf. Olson (1995) 13. 183  Gourmelen (2010) 28. 184  On the structure, de Jong (2001) 106–8. 185  Cf. Odysseus’ delay on Ogygia, ἦ μέν μ᾽ αὐτόθ᾽ ἔρυκε Καλυψὼ δῖα θεάων, / [ἐν σπέσι γλαφυροῖσι . . .] (Od. 9. 29–[30]). West deletes Od. 9. 30; cf. app. crit. ad loc. 186  Danek (1998) 113; Burgess (2012).

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152  Menelaus in the Archaic Period folk-tale types.187 Dæl, mistress of the animals in Georgian folk tale, for example, also counts her animals (cf. 4. 411–12) and appears only at a certain time of day (dawn; cf. 4. 407). The helper function will be transferred to Proteus.188 Proteus corresponds as well to Indo-European ‘prophetic water spirit’ and shape-changer types.189 The otherwise unattested Eidothea (‘knowledge-goddess)’ is an anticipatory doublet of the better-attested helper of Odysseus, Ino/Leucothea (5. 333–53). Later references to Eidothea appear to depend on the Odyssey.190 Eidothea takes pity on the starving Menelaus and his friends (363, 367–8).191 . . . τίς με θεῶν ὀλοφύρατο καί μ᾽ ἐλέησεν, Πρωτέος ἰφθίμου θυγάτηρ ἁλίοιο γέροντος, Εἰδοθέη· (4. 364­–6) . . . one of the gods had compassion for me and took pity on me, Eidothea, the daughter of great Proteus, the old man of the sea.

Eidothea decides to help Menelaus (364) by revealing the name of her father (365), the first appearance of the name Proteus in extant Greek poetry. Elsewhere in Homer the ‘old man of the sea’ (365) is Nereus, whose daughter Thetis is the shape-changer in the family. Menelaus’ plight (366–74) foreshadows that of Odysseus after leaving the island of Circe (Od. 12. 324–32). Both groups are reduced to the un-heroic activity of fishing, with disastrous consequences for Eurylochus and Odysseus’ men (cf. 12. 339–40). Menelaus avoids their fate with the help of Eidothea and Proteus. Eidothea’s appearance is sudden and unbidden (4. 370), a theophany introducing a typical Homeric rebuke speech.192 Menelaus quotes her directly. 187 Thompson, Motif Index G. 530. 2; Detienne and Vernant (1978) 20–1, 114–15; S. West (1988) 216; Lonsdale (1988) 166. 188  Cf. Bakker (2013) esp. 83–4, 104. 189 Thompson, Motif Index F 420. 4; cf. S. West (1988) 217–18 with comparative examples and bibliography. 190  e.g. A. fr. 212 Radt; E. Hel. 11; in both of these passages she is called Eido. ‘Eidothea’ is susceptible of various Greek etymologies; S. West (1988) 216. 191  Cf. the pitying of Achilles in the Iliad by a daughter (Thetis) of the Old Man of the Sea, ὣς φάτο δάκρυ χέων, τοῦ δ᾽ ἔκλυε . . . / ἡμένη ἐν βένθεσσιν ἁλὸς παρὰ πατρὶ γέροντι (Il. 1. 357–8)— though of course Thetis is Achilles’ mother (357). 192  Cf. the ‘saving advice’-type speech offered by the gods, especially Athena: e.g. Athena to Diomedes (Il. 5. 800–13), to Menelaus (Il. 17. 556–9), to Odysseus (Od. 20. 33–5); S.  West (1988) 217.

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The Odyssey  153 ἣ δέ με᾽ ἄγχι στᾶσα ἔπος φάτο φώνησέν τε· ῾νήπιός εἰς, ὦ ξεῖνε, λίην τόσον ἠὲ χαλίφρων, ἦε ἑκὼν μεθίεις καὶ τέρπεαι ἄλγεα πάσχων;᾽ (4. 370­–2) She, standing near me, uttered a word and said: “Are you so exceedingly foolish, dear stranger, or slack-witted, or do you willingly languish here and take pleasure in suffering difficulties?”

Eidothea observes that Menelaus must either be ‘slack-witted’ (4. 371) or ‘delight in sufferings’ (372) to be in trouble as he is. The allegation intratextually evokes the ‘pleasure in mourning’ theme already established at Sparta (esp. 4. 100–3, cf. 183–6). Menelaus had considered the gods to blame for his plight (cf. 4. 351–3, 360) but Eidothea shifts responsibility back on him. ‘Do you languish here willingly?’ (ἑκὼν μεθίεις 4. 372). What she says would imply typically Homeric ‘double motivation’ but the question, as asked, is unexpected. Donald Frame has noted a possible Iliadic quotation.193 The first hemistich of 372 (ἦε ἑκὼν μεθίεις) is a modification of the formula ἑκὼν μεθέηκεν, used to describe Menelaus’ decision to yield to Antilochus on the race-course to avert disaster (αὐτὸς γὰρ ἑκὼν μεθέηκεν ἐλαύνειν Il. 23. 434). The second hemistich of the verse, τέρπεαι ἄλγεα πάσχων (372), was true of Menelaus at Sparta, as Peisistratus remarked (Od. 4. 183–6, cf. 195–6). That it is a meaningful quotation is suggested by the verb form (μεθέηκεν > μεθίεις) altered to suit its context and its different placement in the verse. It engages the dispute in the source-passage over the positive or negative consequences of a decision to ‘give way’ and, perhaps most telling, expresses a characteristic trait of the Iliadic Menelaus. He ‘yields up’ his anger against Antilochus in spite of the young man’s bad faith (Ἀντίλοχε, νῦν μέν τοι ἐγὼν ὑποείξομαι αὐτός / χωόμενος, ἐπεὶ οὔ τι παρήορος οὐδ᾽ ἀεσίφρων / ἦσθα πάρος· Il. 23. 602–4, see pp. 107, 114). Awareness of Menelaus’ criticism of Antilochus’ ‘flightiness’ (ἀεσίφρων 603) gives point to Eidothea’s gratuitous criticism that ‘slack-wittedness’ is Menelaus’ reason for remaining on Pharos (εἰς . . . χαλίφρων Od. 4. 371).194 Menelaus’ characteristic tendency to ‘yield’, and a potential for thoughtlessness, featured in the characterization of Menelaus in the Iliadic Book 10.195 Agamemnon acknowledges to Nestor that often Menelaus ‘yields’ (μεθίει 193  Frame (2009) 213–15. 194  Frame (2009) 215 n. 114. 195  Cf. Sammons (2009b) 38–9.

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154  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Il. 10. 121) to him, looking to his lead and awaiting his desire (ἀλλ᾽ ἐμέ τ᾽ εἰσορόων καὶ ἐμὴν ποτιδέγμενος ὁρμήν 123; see p. 77). Agamemnon similarly exonerates Menelaus for yielding out of diffidence or thoughtlessness (οὔτ᾽ ὄκνωι εἴκων οὔτ᾽ ἀφραδίηισι νόοιο 122). The Odyssey evokes the Iliadic character-trait, Menelaus’ readiness to yield to forces beyond his control. The quality is problematized on the battlefield in the Iliad (17. 91–105), though on the race course it preserves him from ruin (23. 434–5), not to mention saving his friendship with Antilochus (23. 602–3). Stranded on Pharos, his pliancy threatens Menelaus with starvation (Od. 4. 369) or at least a delayed return. Ultimately, however, it facilitates the prophetic consultation with Proteus and his own salvation. Menelaus rejects Eidothea’s imputation that he is to blame for his own delay. The self-assured tone as well as the content of his response contrasts strikingly with his characteristic willingness to assume blame for the sufferings of the Achaeans (e.g. Il. 3. 99–100; Od. 4. 170). Menelaus now insists that his misfortune is the fault of the gods (4. 377–8), as she ought to know, for the gods know everything: ‘you [ought to] tell me’ (379), Menelaus demands, ‘who among the gods hinders me and has bound up the way; and [about] my return’ (380–1).196 Menelaus sounds a note of new-found authority.197 Eidothea does not directly answer the question. Like Hermes (cf. 10. 275–309) or Teiresias (cf. 11. 100–37) she will only counsel Menelaus. To learn when he needs (not what he asks; cf. 4. 423–4, 472–3) he must go to her father Proteus.198 ἀθάνατος, Πρωτεὺς Αἰγύπτιος, ὅς τε θαλάσσης πάσης βένθεα οἶδε, Ποσειδάωνος ὑποδμώς· τὸν δέ τ᾽ ἐμόν φασιν πατέρ᾽ ἔμμεναι ἠδὲ τεκέσθαι. (4. 385–7) . . . the immortal, Egyptian Proteus, who knows the depths of all the sea, a servant of Poseidon. They say that he is my father and begat me.

196  Menelaus’ response to Eidothea (Od. 4. 379–81) varies a probably traditional motif (a mortal’s surprise at a god’s seeming lack of understanding); cf. ἐκ μέν τοι ἐρέω, ἥ τις σύ πέρ ἐσσι θεάων (Menelaus’ rebuke of Eidothea, Od. 4. 376) ~ Il. 15. 247–8 τίς δὲ σύ ἐσσι, φέριστε, θεῶν, ὅς μ᾽ εἴρεαι ἄντην; / οὐκ ἀΐεις . . . (Hector’s retort to Apollo). 197  Menelaus’ questions begin with directive sentence types (‘tell me’) as against only one-third of all questions in narrator-speech; see Beck (2012) 28–30. 198 Notwithstanding the formulaic speech-introduction, τοιγὰρ ἐγώ τοι, ξεῖνε, μάλ᾽ ἀτρεκέως ἀγορεύσω (Od. 4. 383).

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The Odyssey  155 Proteus receives a second, solemn formulaic introduction (‘there is a ­person X’).199 His ‘speaking name’ doubly connotes ‘primordial’ knowledge (πρῶτος) and ‘prophecy’ (cf. πέπρωται).200 Proteus enjoys a peculiar relationship to Poseidon (386).201 It is important that this Old Man is Egyptian as well as immortal (4. 385).202 Similarities to a ‘shipwreck tale’ from the 12th dynasty, preserved on a papyrus in the Hermitage, have often been cited as a possible source-text.203 An Egyptian provenance for the story, proposed long ago, continues to have adherents.204 But in spite of possibly borrowed details the overarching tale of Menelaus’ shipwreck and consultation with Proteus contains significant differences from the Egyptian story such as the ‘seal trick’. Overall the episode aligns more closely with the adventures of Odysseus than any other putative source-text.205 The presence of a seal colony on Pharos characterizes the island as desolate and devoid of human society, like Delos before the coming of Apollo (h.Hom. 3. 77–8, cf. 26–8).206 Menelaus requires the goddess’s help for the ambush (αὐτὴ νῦν φράζεο σὺ λόχον θείοιο γέροντος 4. 395) making a punning allusion to the name of the provident god (cf. προϊδὼν ἠὲ προδαείς 396). He ends with a pious abstraction regarding human limitations before the gods (ἀργαλέος γάρ τ᾽ ἐστὶ θεὸς βροτῶι ἀνδρὶ δαμῆναι 397–9; cf. 4. 78). The adventure consistently casts 199  Proteus is next attested in Stesichorus’ Palinode in more-traditional human guise, hosting Helen in Egypt while her eidolon was busy at Troy [fr. 91h D-F = Σ Aristid. Or. i. 131. 1]), cf. Stesich. fr. 90 11–15 D-F (P.Oxy. 2506 fr. 26 col. i) with Davies and Finglass (2014) 340. Proteus is rationalized as an Egyptian pharaoh in Herodotus (ii. 112); cf. Asheri et al. (2007) 322–3. The only complete fragment of Aeschylus’ Proteus, the fourth play of the Oresteia tetralogy, seems to refer to the near-starvation of Menelaus and his crew on the island of Pharos (A. fr. 210; cf. Od. 4. 354–69), see Sommerstein (2008) 200–3; cf. Griffith (2002) 237–50. In Pherecydes Proteus is father of Kabeiro and Rhoetia (therefore grandfather to the Kabeiroi and Korybantes), Pher. fr. 48 (Fowler). Stesichorus’ Proteus, if Aristides’ testimonium is not mistaken, seems to have been ‘more like the domiciled figure in Herodotus’, Davies and Finglass (2014) 332 ad fr. 90. 15 (καταμεῖν[αι). Given the importance of hospitality in the Odyssey one might have expected the poet to have developed the notion of Proteus as a regal host if that conception were available; cf. S. West (1982). 200  S. West (1988) 217–18; Athanassakis (2002) 48; Gourmelen (2010) 32. 201  ὑποδμώς, ‘servant’, is a Homeric hapax; S. West (1988) 218; LfgrE 23. 757; contrast the august Nereus, eldest son of Pontus (Hes. Th. 233); Athanassakis (2002) 48–50. 202  Αἰγύπτιος is a Homeric novelty; cf. S. West (1988) 218. Danek (1998) 114 observes that the epithet points to a double function: Proteus is conceived as an Egyptian god of sorts but as he is found on Pharos, remains a god somewhat set apart. 203  e.g. Trinquier (2010) 64. 204  e.g. Griffith (2001), (2008) 2–4; cf. S. West (1988) 218; Athanassakis (2002); Trinquier (2010) 64–5 with n. 3. 205  Trinquier (2010) 69–72; seals are not a standard part of the Egyptian bestiary (65). See Clay (1983) 160–1 on Proteus as exemplar of the ability of the gods to disguise themselves and deceive mortals. 206 See LfgrE 24. 1072 (s.v. φώκ[η]); Trinquier (2010) 66–9; cf. Richardson (2010) 93.

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156  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Menelaus as an anticipatory doublet for Odysseus. Like Menelaus, Odysseus will require the help of a nymph; and, later, he will trounce an uncanny opponent, in a battle of wits, by hiding under an animal. It has been remarked that Eidothea’s very precise instructions draw on her intimate knowledge of her father’s ‘everyday habits and vulnerabilities’; she alone can provide a series of ‘ceremonial and ritual actions that he must follow in  order to approach the god and experience a successful consultation’.207 For Menelaus, it means disguising himself in order to ambush and entrap Proteus so that he will reveal the way home (389–90). Like Odysseus, in short, Menelaus uses cunning to elicit wisdom from the gods.208 Menelaus’ attempt at such an exploit, however, verges on the comic. Eidothea instructed Menelaus to choose three companions and to be ready at dawn when she would fetch them (407) so as to be in place when Proteus emerged at noon (a ‘theophanic moment’ 400–1).209 Like trad­ition­al hunters Menelaus and his men don animal skins in the hunt.210 They are to await Proteus in the seal-cave, covered in skins and concealed among the flock. Proteus will count the seals and then lie down among them211 like a shepherd among his sheep (νωμεὺς ὣς πώεσι μήλων 4. 413).212 Menelaus goes on to relate the ambush (4. 426–570). The story begins with a typical epic arrival scene including daybreak, prayer on the beach, and choice of companions (cf. Od. 3. 1–2, 5; 10. 187–8, 194–5). The encounter with Proteus, like Odysseus’ consultation with Teiresias, is similar to the intensified, trance-like states of consciousness described by anthropologists. The anointing of Menelaus’ nostrils with ambrosia would mark the onset of the altered state.213 The ambrosia, however, marks the episode as characteristically Greek; Menelaus’ disguise involves a comical stench.214 Menelaus’ 207  Zatta (2013) 194. 208  Clay (1983) 197–8. 209  The ‘time of day’ (noon, Od. 4. 401) is important; Menelaus is to be ready at dawn (407). See Buchan (2004) 63 on the ‘theophanic moment’ (with n. 22); for ancient and modern interpretations on the emergence and subsequent concealment of Proteus (Od. 4. 400–3), Gourmelen (2010) 41–7. 210  For seals and shamanistic activity, Burkert (1979) 89; Athanassakis (2002) 50–1 with bibliography at n. 15; Tindall and Bustos (2014) 121. For seals or seal hunters as manteis, Σ Od. 4. 403; Trinquier (2010) 63–78; Zatta (2013) 196–7. 211  On the ‘counting’ motif, cf. Eustath. 1505. 20–1; Lonsdale (1988) 168–9; Buchan (2004) 56–7; Gourmelen (2010) 32. 212  Cf. Lonsdale (1988) 166–7 with 175 n. 9; Trinquier (2010) 71–2. Theocritus alludes to the episode (ὁ Πρωτεὺς φώκας καὶ θεὸς ὢν ἔνεμεν, 8. 52). 213  Cf. Tindall and Bustos (2014) 122. 214  Menelaus emphasizes the smell (Od. 4. 441–7) which made it ‘the worst’ ambush (ἔνθά κεν αἰνότατος λόχος ἔπλετο 441), relieved only by ambrosia (445–6), a telling detail added to the remarks of the goddess in her original instructions (406). Cf. Lonsdale (1988) 168–9, 174 n.  4; Athanassakis (2002) 50 n. 11; Gourmelen (2010) 31–2; Zatta (2013) 195. The seal was

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The Odyssey  157 ‘metamorphosis’ into a seal precedes and provokes the metamorphoses of Proteus.215 ‘In this liminal time and space, the realms of the human and divine can encounter one another. If this is a time when gods can be seen, Eidothea’s gift of ambrosia, the “immortal” salve, allows the human companions of Menelaus to enter, temporarily, the realm of the god.’216 Menelaus, by means of a trick (δόλος 437, 453), will defeat the trickery of the god (δολίης . . . τέχνης 455).217 Proteus assumes a few animal forms (not ‘everything that creeps on land’, as Eidothea had claimed, 417–18) including lion, snake, leopard, wild boar, along with two other zoological forms that do not creep at all, water and a tree (456–8). Lonsdale observed that these chosen forms are each found in Homeric similes, allowing Menelaus to play the role of victor in the mode of an Iliadic aristeia (4. 454–5).218 Menelaus wins the match and forces Proteus to regain his proper form (. . . ἀνίαζ᾽ ὁ γέρων ὀλοφώϊα εἰδώς 460). τίς νύ τοι, Ἀτρέος υἱέ, θεῶν συμφράσσατο βουλάς, ὄφρα μ᾽ ἕλοις ἀέκοντα λοχησάμενος; τέο σε χρή; (4. 462–3) Son of Atreus, which of the gods joined in council with you, so that you could ambush and take me against my will? What is your need?

Menelaus is the first to attempt a tactic later perfected by Odysseus, the use of entrapment to force the disclosure of what is hidden from mortals.219 Proteus accordingly asks Menelaus to reveal what he wants (463). Menelaus assumes that Proteus knows this already and is attempting to put him off (465–6). But it is possible that Proteus’ very divinity has been de­sta­bil­ized.220 By his own pretended metamorphosis into an animal Menelaus has gained advantage over its patron deity, exposing his opponent’s weakness and getting the better of him.221 The ambush is a success. considered an uncanny creature, which according to Aelian carried the evil eye (Aelian Nat. Anim. III. 19), Gourmelen (2010) 40. 215  Gourmelen (2010) comments, ‘[l]a transformation de Ménélas vaut bien toutes les métamorphoses de Protée: de l’homme à l’animal . . . En s’identifiant au phoque, Ménélas devient également double et ambigu, à son image’ (40). 216  Buchan (2004) 63; cf. Clay (1981) esp. 116. 217  Cf. Clay (1983) 152; Gourmelen (2010) 31–2. 218  Lonsdale (1988) 166–7 with 176 nn. 14–15. 219  Cf. Clay (1983) 150–1. 220  Buchan (2004) 59–66. 221  Lonsdale (1988) 166–7, 171.

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158  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Menelaus sets Proteus the critical questions as to which god is re­spon­ sible for his delay and how to return (4. 469–70 = 380–1).222 As to the first question, Proteus is not much help. Perhaps, as Tsagarakis suggests, the failure is due to the characteristic vagueness of a prophet.223 Or, as Buchan proposed, it is a sign of Proteus’ new-found fallibility.224 Proteus tells Menelaus that he should sacrifice to Zeus and all of the gods (472–3); Menelaus might have guessed that (Jörgensen’s Law).225 But in any event the god responsible for the delay is not Athena.226 In response to the second part of the question (how to return) Proteus prophesies something really surprising. Menelaus must travel back to mainland Egypt. οὐ γάρ τοι πρὶν μοῖρα φίλους τ᾽ ἰδέειν καὶ ἱκέσθαι οἶκον ἐϋκτίμενον καὶ σὴν ἐς πατρίδα γαῖαν, πρίν γ᾽ ὅτ᾽ ἂν Αἰγύπτοιο διιπετέος ποταμοῖο, αὖτις ὕδωρ ἔλθηις ῥέξηις θ᾽ ἱερὰς ἑκατόμβας ἀθανάτοισι θεοῖσι, τοὶ οὐρανὸν εὐρὺν ἔχουσιν· (4. 475–9) It is not fated for you to see your friends nor return to your well-built home and your native land, before you go back again to the waters of Egypt, the rain-fed river, and perform sacred hecatombs to the immortal gods, who hold broad heaven.

It does not make much sense to travel farther away in order to return, and to Menelaus it does not sound like good news. He laments bitterly the prospect of a further voyage (cf. 4. 481–2). Menelaus’ grief over a return to Egypt contrasts ironically with the vast wealth he acquires there (ἐμοί γε κατεκλάσθη φίλον ἦτορ 481; cf. 3. 300–2), some of which Telemachus has seen (4. 125–32). And it is odd that a voyage from the offshore island of Pharos to mainland Egypt is described as ‘across the sea’, ἐπ᾽ ἠεροειδέα πόντον (482, cf. Αἰγύπτου προπάροιθε 355). An intratextual allusion is being prepared. A further journey to accomplish a final act of piety is what Odysseus too will be required to undertake (11.64–80, 12. 1–15) and Menelaus’ return prophecy—including the anguished response—foreshadows the prophecy to Odysseus by Teiresias.227 222  Despite what Eidothea would seem to have promised, Menelaus does not ask Proteus for detailed instructions about the way home (389–93); cf. Tsagarakis (2000) 50–1. 223  Tsagarakis (2000) 51–5. 224  Buchan (2004) 65–6. 225  Cf. Danek (1998) 114. 226  Homer suppresses mention of Athena’s responsibility for the death of any of the Achaeans, even Ajax (who is finally finished off by Poseidon, Od. 4. 499–511); cf. Danek (2015) 368. 227  Cf. Reinhardt (1997 [1960]) 94–5; Heubeck (1989) 72.

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The Odyssey  159 Menelaus is not satisfied with the news that his own return will be a success. He seeks to know about all the others, too (4. 486–7). Proteus initially admonishes Menelaus that it is not appropriate for him to know ‘his mind’ (οὐδέ τί σε χρή / ἴδμεναι, οὐδὲ δαῆναι ἐμὸν νόον· 492–3).228 The shamanistic details noted above and entrapment of Proteus have prepared for the dis­ clos­ure of prophetic νόος to Menelaus. Odysseus will experience a similar encounter (10. 496–9). Heubeck hypothesizes that an intratextual allusion is at hand, an intentional ‘verbal parallel’.229 The prophet Teiresias has retained his νόος, ‘clairvoyance and powerful ­perception’, even in the Underworld (Od. 10. 492–5).230 But Menelaus, like Odysseus, receives Proteus’ νόος only temporarily (cf. 10. 488–95). Each hero recalls, moreover, that the encounter with prophetic noos inspired a fit of grieving.231 Menelaus’ expression of grief makes sense in its context; he has just heard the news that Ajax and Agamemnon have perished (499–549) while one Achaean remains alive but held back from his return (498).232 Odysseus, on the other hand, has been told of the impending visit to the Underworld.233 Menelaus provides the pattern for the consultation of the hero with a prophet; and each man goes on to receive unasked-for know­ledge about his own fate. Odysseus is sated with grief and ready to leave at once (10. 501–2). Menelaus, by contrast, must be told by the god to cease lamenting. μηκέτι, Ἀτρέος υἱέ, πολὺν χρόνον ἀσκελὲς οὕτω κλαῖ᾽, ἐπεὶ οὐκ ἄνυσίν τινα δήομεν· ἀλλὰ τάχιστα πείρα, ὅπως κεν δὴ σὴν πατρίδα γαῖαν ἵκηαι. (4. 543–5) Do not any longer, son of Atreus, spend much time weeping so unrelentingly, since we get nothing good from it. But as quickly as possible exert yourself, so that you may come to your native land.

228  Cf. Stanford (19592) 207. 229  Heubeck (1989) 69. 230 Stamantia (2012) 1. The conjuring of Teiresias combines elements of Near Eastern necro­mancy and the conjuring of minor deities of the Underworld; see West (1997) 50, 426–7; on the folk-tale origins of the episode, Davies (2002) 23–5. 231  κλαῖον δ᾽ ἐν ψαμάθοισι Od. 4. 539]: cf. κλαῖον δ᾽ ἐν λεχέεσσι, Od. 10. 497. West brackets Od. 10. 497–9; cf. West (2017) 21. 232  Proteus’ version of the nostoi—reported by Menelaus—gives the impression of complete catastrophe decimating the returning Achaeans; Danek (1998) considers it based in the nostoitradition (115). Cf. de Jong (2001) 4, 75, 105–6, 591–3. 233  Heubeck (1989) 69 notes the irony in Odysseus’ anguish at being sent to Hades just at the moment when he had lost his will to live (Od. 10. 497–9). West (2017) proposes instead that the verses are a previously unsuspected interpolation, noting their absence from an unpublished papyrus in Oxford (20–1).

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160  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Even though the directive ‘gets the conversation back on track’ Menelaus still does not leave for home at once because he has more to learn (550).234 He retains his power over Proteus, insisting that he learn the name and fate of the third man whose nostos (for Telemachus) is the most important one of all (551).235 Proteus responds with what would seem to introduce an account of Odysseus’ adventures as the climax of the consultation, perhaps to be followed by a prediction of his imminent return (555–7).236 Proteus limits the report of what he has seen to the exact manner in which the audience will first see Odysseus (557–60 = 5. 14–17). The brief but reliable report enables Menelaus to predict the destruction of the suitors with confidence (4. 340) and provides Telemachus with hope (cf. 15. 156–7).237 From the point of view of Menelaus, news about Odysseus is not the ‘climax’ of the encounter. The most important information for Menelaus concerns not Odysseus’ fate but his own. σοὶ δ’ οὐ θέσφατόν ἐστι, διοτρεφὲς ὦ Μενέλαε, Ἄργει ἐν ἱπποβότωι θανέειν καὶ πότμον ἐπισπεῖν. (4. 561–2) It is not fated for you, Menelaus fostered by Zeus, in horse-rearing Argos to die and meet your fate.

Proteus foretells Menelaus’ fate without being asked, as Teiresias later will do to Odysseus (11. 134–7).238 The fate promised to Menelaus is exceptional, ‘Ausnahmeschicksal’, comments Burkert, unlike Agamemnon’s or even Odysseus’.239 Proteus tells Menelaus that he will not die and meet his fate in Argos (4. 562), inviting the audience to expect that the poet will go on to indicate the place where Menelaus will die.240 Instead we learn that Menelaus is to go to Elysium.

234  Beck (2012) 30. 235  Menelaus asks ‘whether he is alive / or dead . . .’ (Od. 4. 552–3); the scholiasts object that Menelaus ought to know better than to include the enjambed alternative hypothesis (ἠὲ θανών 553) as Proteus has already told him that he is alive (498). von der Muehll brackets both verses; West brackets only 553. S. West (1988) 226 explains the slight logical inconsistency as the result of a ‘craving for antithesis, whether the poet’s or another’s’. More simply it may be explained as the retention of a traditional formula. 236  My interpretation of the passage follows S. West (1988) 226 (ad 4. 555ff.). 237  Cf. Clay (1983) 13–19. 238  Clay (1983) 151. 239  Burkert (20112) 303. 240  Cf. Clay (1983) 151; Gelinne (1988) 233 n. 55.

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The Odyssey  161 ἀλλά σ’ ἐς Ἠλύσιον πεδίον καὶ πείρατα γαίης ἀθάνατοι πέμψουσιν, ὅθι ξανθὸς Ῥαδάμανθυς — τῆι περ ῥηΐστη βιοτὴ πέλει ἀνθρώποισιν· (4. 563–5) But the immortals will send you to the Elysian plain and the ends of the earth, where fair Rhadamanthys dwells—and where is the pleasantest manner of life for mortals.

Not only is Menelaus the only Achaean hero in extant archaic literature to end his life in Elysium; he is the only one in Homer to be granted immortality.241 Even Heracles had to die, insists Achilles (cf. Il. 18. 117; but cf. Od. 11. 601–4).242 And in the Odyssey Achilles is securely in Hades (Od. 11. 467; 24. 15).243 The Dioscuri are only immortal part time (11. 300–4; cf. Il. 3. 243–4). No probable source-text for the self-reflexive allusion to Menelaus’ fate has been identified; instead, the allusion might be extra-textual, to the early archaic cult he shared with Helen at Sparta. The literal meaning of Menelaus’ vocative epithet (διοτρεφές 561) reveals his fate. Menelaus will join Rhadamanthys who is, like himself, ξανθός (564).244 As noted above, ξανθός appears in the Iliad more often of Menelaus than of any other hero. In the Odyssey, too, when used as a personal epithet ξανθός always describes Menelaus.245 He is ξανθός in Hesiodic epic as well.246 Menelaus’ and Rhadamanthys’ sharing of the epithet, fortuitous or not, hints at the similarity between them. Both are—or will be—immortal.247 Menelaus’ closeness to the gods was justified in the Iliad by his central role in the Trojan War (e.g. Il. 4. 127–34; 17. 553–73) but the Iliad never implies

241  Non-Achaean heroes mentioned in the Homeric poems who have joined the immortals include Tithonus (Il. 11. 1–2), Cleitus (Od. 15. 250–1), and Ganymede (Il. 20. 232–5); Ino, formerly a mortal, has become a sea-goddess (Od. 5. 333–5). 242  Cf. Barker and Christensen (2014) esp. 275–6. 243 Achilles is credited with immortality in non-Homeric, mostly later poetry; in one ­version, which apparently goes back to Ibycus, he too goes to Elysium (PMG 291; cf. PMG 558 [Simonides]); or Leuke (Aith. arg. 21–2; Paus. iii. 19. 13 [Achilles and Helen together on Leuke]); cf. Wilkinson (2013) 18. Homer is often considered to be the outlier (‘the Odyssey deviates from the mainstream mythical tradition regarding the death of Achilles’), Stamantia (2012) 16 with 54 n. 75. 244  On Rhadamanthys, Davidson (1999) esp. 250–1; Renger (2014) 364–6, 370–1 with further bibliography at 372 n. 20; cf. Nilsson (19503) 622–5; S. West (1988) 227; Burkert (20112) 302–3. Ibycus apparently made Rhadamanthys a lover of Talos (PMG 309); cf. Wilkinson (2013) 18. 245  ξανθός describes the colour of Odysseus’ hair (Od. 13. 399, 431). 246  [Hes.] frr. 176. 7; 198. 5; 204. 41. 247  Nagy (19992) 209–10 (§50 n. 2).

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162  Menelaus in the Archaic Period that Menelaus is immortal; quite the reverse.248 The poet of the Odyssey conceives a different but complementary account of the end of his life. Menelaus’ potential mortality is frequently vetted in the Iliad (esp. 4. 155–6) but his death at Troy is an ‘impossible possibility’.249 Menelaus is the only Achaean, claims Agamemnon, whose death would render the whole expedition meaningless (Il. 4. 169–82). In the Iliad Menelaus’ necessary non-death does not entail any notion of immortality. The Odyssey-poet extends the singular situation to its logical conclusion. Menelaus will abide forever in the ‘Elysian plain’ (Ἠλύσιον πεδίον) located at the ends of the earth (563).250 The place-name occurs only here in Homer and does not appear again in extant Greek until Apollonius Rhodius (4. 811).251 The notion of a ‘plain’, moreover, is a unicum in Greek cosmogeography.252 The more-traditional paradisial Greek alternative to Hades is an island getaway, ‘the Isles of the Blest’ (μακάρων νῆσοισι, Hes. Op. 171; cf. the ‘White Island’ [τὴν Λευκὴν νῆσον], Aith. arg. 22; μακάρων νᾶσος Pi. O. 2. 70–1).253 Elysium, unmistakably a field, provides the most pleasant possible life for men (565).254 Menelaus will live there not with the gods, but like them. The paradisial environment contrasts with the otherwise consistent Homeric picture of a miserable afterlife in dusky Hades.255 The notion of a ‘plain’ might be related to the Egyptian Field of Reeds, an  alternate after-spot for the blessed dead first attested in Egyptian tomb-inscriptions as far back as the 5th dynasty (mid-third millennium bc), found in the Book of the Dead (late second millennium) and in later Egyptian literature as well.256 S. West proposes that Crete is an intermediary in the transmission of the notion to Greece from Egypt, noting the presence of 248  In the Iliad both Menelaus and Agamemnon are anxious that the wound from Pandarus’ arrow might be fatal (Il. 4. 148–82). The narrator suggests that—if events had gone otherwise— Menelaus would have been in danger of losing his life (e.g. Il. 7. 104–6). 249  Lang (1989) 10. 250  For ancient and modern etymologies of Ἠλύσιον, Gelinne (1988) 226–9; LfgrE 12: 908. 251  Cf. Pl. Grg. 523r–524a; D.S. 1.96.5; Puhvel (1969) 67–8; Albinus (2000) 131–2; Burkert (20112) 302. 252  Indo-European as well as Near Eastern parallels have been identified: cf. the cowpasture of Yama (Rigveda 10. 14. 2) and the Hittite meadow (wellu-); cf. Puhvel (1969) 65–6; Lincoln (1977); Griffith (2001) 231–2. 253  Burkert (20112) 303. 254  See West (1997) on the similarities between the notions of paradise in Greek and Near Eastern epic; in the Mesopotamian tradition an older hero Ziusudra, like Rhadamanthys, ­precedes Ut-napishtim to paradise (166–7, 420); cf. Brown (1998) esp. 388–404; Puhvel (1969) with earlier bibliography (esp. 65–7 with n. 1). 255  Il. 8. 365–9; 22. 482; 23. 69–92; Od. 10. 508–37; 24. 10–15, 203–4; cf. Tyrt. 12. 32 W2. 256  Cf.  Nilsson (19502) 625–7; S.  West (1988) 227; Alford (1991); Griffith (2001) 213–14 with nn. 2–3, 232–3.

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The Odyssey  163 Rhadamanthys (564).257 The Odyssey-poet has used the island as a key turning-point in Menelaus’ return (3. 291–9). Nestor’s report that Menelaus visited the island assimilates him to Odysseus’ persona in the lying tales.258 Intratextually, Crete joins Menelaus to Odysseus and distinguishes him from Helen. Crete is a recurrent theme in Menelaus’ traditional biography as well (pp. 185, 202, Appendix). Note too, that, Proteus’ prophecy specifically concerns Menelaus.259 Whether or not Helen joins Menelaus in paradise is as irrelevant to Menelaus in the Odyssey as she was to him at Troy in the earlier Homeric epic.260 And yet Menelaus enjoys an unparalleled fate because he is husband of  Helen and son-in-law of Zeus, οὕνεκ᾽ ἔχεις Ἑλένην καί σφιν γαμβρὸς Διός ἐσσι (569).261 Seemingly an explanatory gloss (answering ‘why Menelaus’) the verse raises more questions than it answers. Rhadamanthys is son of Zeus and Europa (e.g. Il. 14. 322); and the next-attested heroes to be translated to paradise, the Aiakid Peleus and Cadmus, are also related to Zeus (Pi. O. 2. 78)262—though, as Griffith observes, ‘Zeus’ ­nepotism is a wonky affair’ in the Greek epic tradition.263 Peleus too has experience with metamorphic marine deities.264 Hesiod’s ‘Isles of the Blessed’ are open only to those of ‘an earlier generation’ than the age of the poet (Hes. Op. 160), i.e. to the race of heroes (159). In the notional time of the Odyssey, however, this would apply to Rhadamanthys but not to Menelaus.265

257  Twice elsewhere in the Odyssey Crete has connections with the divine: (1) it was the home of the lawgiver Minos (Od. 11. 568; cf. Il. 13. 450–1, 14. 322), elsewhere called Διὸς μεγάλου ὀαριστής (Od. 19. 179), who now sits in judgement in Hades (11. 568) (cf. Martin [Classics@3: 7]); (2) the cave of Eileithuia is located there as well (Od. 19. 188); cf.  Nilsson (19502) 623–30. 258  Cf. Levaniouk (2012) 388–9. 259  Pace West (1997) 167. 260  Helen’s presence in paradise (Elysium and/or the Isles of the Blest) is a recurrent but not ubiquitous theme; cf. Edmunds (2016) 159, 179, 236–9. Erotic love becomes an increasingly frequent characteristic of Greek paradisial locales by the fifth century; cf. Mace (1996) 239–41. 261  Isocrates (10. 62–3) makes a different but related claim, that Helen has directly conferred divinity on Menelaus as a reward for his suffering (see below pp. 262–3). Ps.-Apollodorus reports Menelaus’ divinity as conferred by a different female goddess (Hera), [Apollod.] Epit. 6. 30. See Edmunds (2016) 177–9; cf. West (1975); Skutsch (1987). 262  Cf. Nisetich (1989) 68–9; Davidson (1999) 250–2. 263  Griffith (2001) 229. Zeus is unable to save his son Sarpedon from Hades (Il. 16. 431–61); Heracles has either died, as in the Iliad (Il. 18. 117–19), or died and gone to live on Olympus (Od. 11. 601–3; [Hes.] frr. 25. 28–9; 229); cf.  Burkert (20112) 303. Griffith’s proposal that divine succession-anxiety lies behind the translation of sons-in-law to Elysium is less persuasive (230–1). 264  Gourmelen (2010) 36–8. 265  See West (1985) 146–7.

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164  Menelaus in the Archaic Period A family relation to the immortal gods facilitates admission to paradise. There may also be an ethical criterion. Hesiod states that the Isles of the Blest are inhabited by a ‘juster and better godly race’ (δικαιότερον καὶ ἄρειον . . . θεῖον γένος Hes. Op. 158–9).266 For Pindar justice is the defining quality of the heroes who are destined for the ‘Isle of the Blest’ (μακάρων νᾶσος P. Ol. 2. 129–30). This paradise is reserved for those who keep their oaths, preserve their souls from all sorts of wrongdoing, and follow the path of Zeus.267 ‘Oath-keeping’, ‘justice’, and ‘adherence to the will of Zeus’ are especially true of Menelaus in the Iliad, as we have seen. He consistently articulates the ethical imperative for the war and insists that Zeus will punish the Trojans for their hybris and violation of the norms of hospitality (esp. Il. 13. 620–39). Bacchylides, after the end of our period, makes justice the centrepiece of Menelaus’ speech in the embassy to Antenor (Bacch. 15. 51–5).268 Although the poet does not say as much, Menelaus’ unswerving insistence on right conduct and just punishment in Homer might faciliate his admission, seemingly already entailed in the relationship to Zeus, to the happy place.269 On a post-structuralist reading of Homer, moreover, Menelaus (like Rhadamanthys) fulfils the lawgiver-function of the two contrasting sides of ‘kingship’ (with Agamemnon as commander-in-chief and political leader).270 Whether or not one accepts the ethical criterion for Menelaus’ admission to Elysium, in any event, ‘[l]es élus auraient ce privilège en raison de leur parenté ou de leur proximité avec les dieux, mais seul le bon plaisir [des dieux] serait déterminant’.271 Menelaus is the only Achaean in the Odyssey to enjoy this special sort of divine ‘good pleasure’. We have been interested in what Menelaus’ encounter with Proteus and eventual fate in Elysium mean for him. From a compositional standpoint one might wonder why it is included.272 The detour to Egypt with Menelaus brings Telemachus as close to his father as is possible through rumour 266  Lloyd-Jones (1983) 255–7, 266–7; Gelinne (1988) 234. 267  Cf. Pi. O. 2. 66, 68–70; cf. Gelinne (1988) 234; Nisetich (1989) 59–67. 268  Cf. de Sanctis (2012) 46. 269  Cf. Nilsson (19502) 630–2 (ascribing ethical criteria to Orphic influence). 270  Rousseau (1990) 349–51 notes that both Menelaus and Rhadamanthys are ‘fair’ (ξανθός) consistent with the association of the Mitra ruler-function with brightness and light (351, citing Dumézil); cf. Il. 14. 322. 271  Gelinne (1988) 234. 272  Danek (1998), broadly following Bethe, proposes it as a compositional stopgap (113; ­differently, e.g. Petropoulos [2012] 306). Danek considers it a ‘superfluous’ episode that got included in the Telemachy under the influence of a pre-existing Helen-in-Egypt theme (115). But if this were correct, one might expect Helen to be mentioned, at least incidentally, at some point in the narrative. We have here either a particularly extreme case of suppression or simply a choice by Homer to tell a Menelaus-in-Egypt story instead.

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The Odyssey  165 and prophecy. The Proteus story accordingly provides the solution to the Telemachy. ‘The Odyssey as a whole is built around the gradual increase of tension as the paths of father and son come together.’273 While numerous details recall and anticipate the story of Odysseus, Menelaus’ consultation of  Proteus specifically foreshadows Odysseus’ consultation of Teiresias.274 As noted above the use of the same unique verse-formula signals the allusive relationship. ὅς κέν τοι εἴπησιν ὁδὸν καὶ μέτρα κελεύθου νόστόν θ᾽, ὡς ἐπὶ πόντον ἐλεύσεαι ἰχθυόεντα. (4. 389–90 = 10. 539–40) He will tell you the way and the length of the path and [about] your return, how you will go across the fishy sea.

John Peradotto observed that Menelaus’ encounter with Proteus is the ‘­purest form’ of a fairy-tale narrative type in the Odyssey, ‘centrifugal’ in contrast to the ‘centripetal’ fate of Odysseus.275 Teiresias prophesies that Odysseus will achieve the best fate available to mortals, to live to an old age and then die a gentle death (far) from the sea (11. 134–6) surrounded by blessed men (ἀμφὶ δὲ λαοί / ὄλβιοι ἔσσονται, 136–7). Odysseus’ decisively mortal end-of-life, like the Hesiodic conception of the afterlife of the ἡμίθεοι, includes a community (Hes. Op. 160): Odysseus will die surrounded by the ‘fortunate host’ (λαοί / ὄλβιοι 11. 136–7). Likewise in Hesiod the heroes in the Isles of the Blest are ὄλβιοι ἥρωες (Hes. Op. 172). By contrast, Menelaus will not end his life among men. Instead he will spend eternity in the supernaturally pleasant Elysium alone, perhaps, with Rhadamanthys. If Peradotto and others are right that Menelaus’ ‘centrifugal’ fate, like his encounter with Eidothea and Proteus, is characteristic of folk tale, it remains unexplained why Egypt is chosen as the site of the encounter; and why Menelaus is the hero chosen for the ‘fortuitously “happy” ending’.276 Menelaus’ fate in Elysium puts him in a class all his own.277 For an assessment of these 273  Plass (1969) 106. 274  Elysium is like Ogygia, which Proteus has just mentioned, and from which Odysseus is eager to escape; see Anderson (1958); Plass (1969). Supernatural fecundity is not in itself uncommon in Odyssean fantasy-geography (cf. Scheria, Od. 7. 114–32; Syrie, 15. 403–14; traces exist among the Cyclopes, 9. 105–15) as on Olympus (6. 41–6); cf. Clay (1983) 151–2; Louden (2011) 118–23. 275  Peradotto (1990) 82–3, cf. 62–3. 276  Peradotto (1990) 62. 277 These passages predate the opening up of Elysium to a greater number of ‘the best ­people’, perhaps even accomplished in elegiac poetry by the end of the archaic period; cf. Simon. fr. 22 W2 (9 G-P) with Parsons (1992) 46; 49; West (1993) 12.

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166  Menelaus in the Archaic Period questions, we shall look not only outside this text but outside (any) text, to his cult. As for Odysseus, he prefers the common lot of mortals. The end of the poem makes it plain that Odysseus’ less than perfect fate, like his wife, turns out to be the better one.278 Having concluded the direct quotation of Proteus’ speech, Menelaus brings his narrative to a formulaic close (571–2).279 The story concludes with a typical end-of-day scene (573–5) and signals a fresh narrative start, the successful completion of his nostos, with dawn (576). Proteus revealed to Menelaus that his successful return would depend on travelling to Egypt to perform hecatombs to the gods (4. 475–9, above). The instructions conform to the delayed-nostos pattern established by Nestor (3. 132–4, 160).280 Menelaus reports that he fulfilled the rites faithfully (4. 581–2). But he went beyond what was prescribed. αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ κατέπαυσα θεῶν χόλον αἰὲν ἐόντων, χεῦ᾽ Ἀγαμέμνονι τύμβον, ἵν᾽ ἄσβεστον κλέος εἴη. (4. 583–4) And when I put an end to the anger of the immortal gods, I heaped up a funeral-mound for Agamemnon, so that he might have unquenchable glory.

Menelaus had learned from Proteus what to do; he adds that he knew not only why these ritual actions were necessary (to propitiate their anger, 583) but that it worked (583).281 He can thus describe his sacrifice with confidence as ‘complete, fully accomplished’ (τεληέσσας 582). The decision that followed, to build a cenotaph in Egypt for Agamemnon (584), was entirely his own, and taken with the same divinely imbued assurance as to its success. Menelaus is the only returning hero besides Odysseus to construct a cenotaph, and this is his second. The cenotaph for Phrontis at Sounion,

278 Odysseus’ self-chosen departure from Ogygia contrasts with Menelaus’ isolation in Elysium, Anderson (1958) 7; cf. Pucci (1995 [orig. pub. 1987]): ‘If Odysseus is not an immortal, it is only because he refuses to become one’. 279  ἅμ᾽ ἀντιθέοις ἑτάροισιν (Od. 4. 571) is a variant of the common formula σὺν ἀντιθέοις ἑτάροισιν (14. 247, 385; 17. 54; 19. 216). 280  Petropoulos (2012) 291–5. 281  Cf. Achilles’ statement of the necessity of a medium to interpret the anger of the gods (‘let us find some seer, priest, or dream interpreter’ Il. 1. 62–3); Agamemnon’s insolence in the Iliad toward priest and prophet (Il. 1. 105–20) is echoed in the Odyssey in his fatal assumption that he was competent to judge the cause (Athena) and solution (sacrifice) for the Achaeans’ delay after the fall of Troy (Od. 3. 143–6); cf. Petropoulos (2012) 294–5.

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The Odyssey  167 though undoubtedly the right thing to do, was performed with some reluctance, Nestor implies (ὣς ὃ μὲν ἔνθα κατέσχετ᾽, ἐπειγόμενός περ ὁδοῖο 3. 284), and it entailed Menelaus’ delay (3. 286–90). Phrontis’ burial was a matter of performing appropriate rites (κτέρεα κτερίσειεν 3. 285). Menelaus reports that he constructed this (second) τύμβον so that Agamemnon could enjoy unquenchable glory (4. 584). By commemorating his brother in monu­ment (τύμβον) and story (κλέος) Menelaus provides Agamemnon the only sure means to heroic immortality on offer to Homeric heroes (cf. 1. 239–40)—himself excluded.282 Menelaus understands that his own return is entailed in the pious commemoration of his brother.283 His power to confer κλέος is expressed not only in typical epic fashion (through story or song) but by building something in the world. Menelaus’ later association with colonies’ foundation cults might begin here.284 Once the rites have been completed the gods signal their approval and Menelaus receives a ­favourable wind so that he can finally return home (4. 585–6). For all its ‘foreign’ details, the third story of Menelaus interacts chiefly with the Odyssey itself. Menelaus exhibits typically Odyssean delight in cleverness and trickery while the story provides him with an Odyssean sort of adventure, characterized by the touchstone themes of disguise and metamorphosis; ambush and escape. Yet his time in Egypt distinguishes Menelaus materially from Odysseus, as he alone has profited from the vast wealth of Egypt and other North African locales; and ethically: Menelaus has captured, as it were, access to ancient, ‘foreign’ sources of divinity and divination in Egypt. By performing similar rites in Egypt for Agamemnon as for Phrontis at Sounion (cf. 3. 285; 4. 584) Menelaus has brought Greek religious practice to Egyptian soil, just as he and Helen have brought Egyptian goods, medicine, and prophetic wisdom back home. Menelaus, in all these ways, is the only Trojan War hero to be associated so closely with things of the gods even while remaining within the Homeric world. In his fantastical and utterly unique fate, however, the poet effectively writes Menelaus out of post-Trojan epic. Menelaus, unlike Agamemnon, does not persist as an exemplum in the Ithacan portion of the poem.285

282  Cf. Nagy (19992) 35–41; de Jong (2001) 228. 283 Grethlein (2008) discusses the socio-political significance of tombs and semata in Homer (28–32). 284  Cf. Malkin (1994) 49–64, (2002) 157–8; Dougherty (2001) 48–9, 57. 285  Agamemnon, properly memorialized in Egypt by Menelaus, ‘lives on’ as an exemplum in the oresteia story (esp. Od. 1. 32–43; 11. 405–34; 24. 95–7, 191–202); cf. Olson (1995) 24–42; de Jong (2001) 12–13.

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168  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Menelaus follows up the long story of his return by encouraging Telemachus to remain at Sparta for another eleven or twelve days (4. 587–8) and to accept such valuable gifts as horses and a chariot (589–92).286 Menelaus thus offers a delayed response to Telemachus’ reminder of his obligations to Odysseus, who served Menelaus at Troy ‘in word and deed’ (4. 329–30) and suffered much on his behalf (330).287 The reminder was not necessary; Menelaus is as keenly aware of his debt of gratitude to his Achaean allies in the Odyssey as he was in the Iliad and has added to it the debt of friendship (esp. Od. 4. 170–80). But now, instead of gifts, Telemachus asks to depart. Life at Sparta is so pleasant that he would be content to remain there for a year without thinking of his home or his parents (594–9). Telemachus’ diffident response, which ‘falls short of an outright refusal’, seems to imply that the luxury and pleasures of Sparta threaten to delay his return to the difficult situation he faces at home.288 The issue of when Telemachus will depart remains an open question as the narrative shifts to Ithaca (4. 624 ff.). The ambiguous length of Telemachus’ visit is implicated in the poem’s overall chronology; but whatever one makes of the notorious issue, it is in any case well-suited to the characters and story.289 Telemachus finds the same luxurious, charmed hospitality at Sparta that Odysseus encounters elsewhere. Odysseus ultimately rejects such temptations and returns to Ithaca after a number of delays. In similar fashion Telemachus duly leaves behind the enticements of a divinely appointed palace and an exemplary host. For as the Proteus story has revealed, Menelaus is a man set apart from the ὄλβιοι λαοί among whom Odysseus and, presumably, his son, are to end their lives.

The Departure of Telemachus When we meet Telemachus at the beginning of Book 15 there is, accordingly, a heightened sense of urgency.290 Exactly how much time has elapsed 286  As Telemachus prefers gifts other than horses, for which Ithaca is ill-suited (600–8), Menelaus praises Telemachus and offers ‘peerless treasure’ instead (612–13); cf. Steinrück (1992); Reece (1993) 88–90. 287  Reece (1993) 87–8 comments that Menelaus tacitly refuses Telemachus’ unstated request for military assistance against the suitors (as they suspected he would do [2. 325–7] and as Peisistratus seems to imply [4. 163]). 288  S. West (1988) 229; de Jong (2001) 112. 289  Cf. Delebecque (1958) 18–30; Apthorp (1980); S. West (1988) 229; Reece (1993) 71–7; Olson (1995) 91–119; Rengakos (1998); de Jong (2001) 362–3, cf. 111–12; West (2014b) 112–13, 239–40. 290  Hölscher (1939) 2; cf. Apthorp (1980) 5–7, 19–22; Reece (1993) 92–3; de Jong (2001) 362; cf. Olson (1995) 98, 119.

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The Odyssey  169 between Books 4 and 15 is not as important as the essential narrative fact that, by now, Odysseus has returned to Ithaca. Athena tells Telemachus that it is ‘no longer good to wander so far from your home’ (. . . οὐκέτι καλὰ δόμων ἄπο τῆλ’ ἀλάλησαι 15. 10). She tricks him into hastening his de­part­ure by claiming that Penelope is being pressured to marry Eurymachus (16–17).291 Telemachus accordingly displays new-found eagerness in repeating his request to Menelaus that he be allowed to depart immediately: ἤδη νῦν μ’ ἀπόπεμπε φίλην ἐς πατρίδα γαῖαν· / ἤδη γάρ μοι θυμὸς ἐέλδεται οἴκαδ’ ἱκέσθαι (65–6).292 Menelaus agrees and expatiates on the importance the correct hospitality. Τηλέμαχ᾽, οὔ τί σ᾽ ἐγώ γε πολὺν χρόνον ἐνθάδ᾽ ἐρύξω ἱέμενον νόστοιο· νεμεσσῶμαι δὲ καὶ ἄλλωι ἀνδρὶ ξεινοδόκωι, ὅς κ’ ἔξοχα μὲν φιλέησιν,      70 ἔξοχα δ’ ἐχθαίρησιν· ἀμείνω δ’ αἴσιμα πάντα. ἶσόν τοι κακόν ἐσθ’, ὅς τ’ οὐκ ἐθέλοντα νέεσθαι ξεῖνον ἐποτρύνηι καὶ ὃς ἐσσύμενον κατερύκηι. χρὴ ξεῖνον παρεόντα φιλεῖν, ἐθέλοντα δὲ πέμπειν. (15. 68–74)293 Telemachus, I shall not at all detain you here a long time when you desire to go home. For I should blame another man entertaining a guest, who would offer either excessive kindness or excessive disfavour. Fittingness in all things is better. It is equally bad, both if one sends away a guest who does not wish to leave, and if one detains one who wishes to go. One must entertain a guest when he presents himself and then send on his way the one who is ready to go.

The speech includes a proverbial expression (72; cf. Hes. Op. 327), and a series of antitheses (φιλέησιν . . . ἐχθαίρησιν· 70–1; ἐποτρύνηι . . . κατερύκηι 73). Reece commented that the phrase ἀμείνω δ’ αἴσιμα πάντα (71) may be ‘ironic in this context, for the hospitality that Telemachus receives in Sparta is not “in due measure” (αἴσιμα) . . . Menelaus has “detained” (ἐρύξω 291  Apthorp (1980) 5–6 assembles passages involving the formulaic phrase οὐ . . . καλά / -όν etc., to demonstrate that the phrase often functions as a rebuke. Comparing Nestor’s warning in Book 3 that Telemachus not stay too long in Sparta (Od. 3. 313), Apthorp (6) asserts that ‘Athene in effect rebukes him for ignoring Nestor’s sound advice, and the implication of her οὐκέτι καλά is that by now Telemachus has already spent a long time (Nestor’s δηθά) in Sparta’. 292  The sense that Telemachus has remained too long at Sparta might be implicit in Od. 15. 65–6, ἤδη νῦν in the sense ‘now, at last’; Apthorp (1980) 6; cf. de Jong (2001) 362; cf. Olson (1995) 100 n. 24. 293  15. 74 is bracketed by von der Muehll and West; but cf. Hoekstra (1989) 235.

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170  Menelaus in the Archaic Period [68], κατερύκηι [73]) [Telemachus] despite his expressed “eagerness to leave” (νέεσθαι . . . ἐσσύμενον 72–3; cf. 4. 594, 599)’.294 The contrast between Menelaus’ words and deeds does not necessarily cast Menelaus in a negative light. Menelaus’ attempts to encourage Telemachus to remain are not in­appro­pri­ate for a Homeric host; to delay the departure of one’s guest is typical.295 Telemachus previously has remarked, moreover, that Menelaus’ speech is one of the pleasantest things at Sparta (4. 597–8) and he tells Menelaus that his hospitality has been exemplary (15. 158–9). Therefore, as Glenn Most pointed out, ‘we should take [Menelaus’] pronouncements [on hospitality] seriously’.296 Menelaus proposes a further delay for gifts, a feast, and a gift-gathering tour of Argos (15. 79–85).297 Menelaus’ desire to honour Telemachus as he would have honoured Odysseus himself marks the esteem in which the young man is held (cf. 4. 169–73; 587–623). It allows Telemachus to reaffirm his eagerness to return home (15. 86–91) even as it interacts with the overall narrative: the proposed ‘gift-gathering’ excursion contrasts with the perilous seafaring return of Odysseus.298 And so, in spite of his guests’ evident desire to depart, Menelaus begins preparations anew for a feast while Eteoneus returns along with Helen and Megapenthes (92–110).299 It is almost as if the feasting might continue forever (cf. 133–7) while the same typical courtesies are re-enacted without closure and the same gifts presented (120–9).300 Megapenthes’ otherwise-unmotivated return appearance to present Menelaus’ gift, the Sidonian krater, evokes Menelaus’ characteristic melancholy (15. 100–4). Menelaus’ presentation of his gift by proxy, moreover, could be interpreted as a quotation of the means by which he won Helen in the Hesiodic tradition ([Hes.] fr. 197. 4–5).301 Helen, by contrast, presents her own gift, a peplos that she herself has woven (Od. 15. 105–8). Danek has noted an intertextual allusion to Helen’s appearance in the palace of Priam 294  Reece (1993) 93. 295  In Book 1, for example, Telemachus shows his ‘good manners’ by seeking to delay the departure of Athena/Mentes (Od. 1. 306–13); Reece (1993) 53–7. 296  Most (1989) 24. 297  The passage, with Od. 4. 174–82, circumscribes the extent of Menelaus’ sphere of influence in the Argolid. 298  Danek (1998) 289. 299  The re-appearance of Eteoneus, ‘who does not live far off ’ (96), is perhaps another sign of Menelaus’ influence over the surrounding peoples. 300  15. 113–19 (= 4. 613–19), a verbatim repetition of a description of gifts’ value, seems to be a later interpolation; West deletes it from the text. See West app. crit. ad locc.; cf. Reece (1993) 95 with n. 30. 301  Cf. Cingano (2005) 126–7.

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The Odyssey  171 in the Iliad (ἔνθ᾽ ἔσάν οἱ πέπλοι παμποίκιλοι, ἔργα γυναικῶν / Σιδονιῶν Il. 6. 289­–90).302 The poet implicitly cites the original crime, Paris’ abduction of Helen and their voyage to the Sidonians, even as he ‘corrects’ it (cf. Il. 6. 288–92). Menelaus—not Paris or Helen—has received, and can give, a Sidonian gift (Od. 15. 115–19). Helen, meanwhile, is transformed into a faithful wife weaving at home. The poet thus confirms the depiction of ‘his’ Helen (cf. μνῆμ᾽ Ἑλένης χειρῶν 15. 126).303 It becomes clear, moreover, who is the dominant spouse. Zeus is invoked as ‘husband of Hera’ (Ζεύς . . . ἐρίγδουπος πόσις Ἥρης 112), a familiar Iliadic formula that hints in this context at the uxoriousness latent in Menelaus’ Odyssean character (e.g. Il. 7. 411).304 Helen, by contrast, is invoked as ‘wife of Menelaus’ on a votive inscription at Sparta (cf. Fig. 5.2; Inscrip. 1). When the guests prepare again to depart (144–6) Menelaus mounts a final series of delays. An otherwise-typical departure scene has been slightly displaced to occur after the chariot has driven away, rather than before (145–6).305 Menelaus invites his guests to pour a final libation from a golden cup (15. 148–9). He utters his last words, a sort of benediction, in which the poet ‘sums up’ Menelaus’ character and relationships. χαίρετον, ὦ κούρω, καὶ Νέστορι ποιμένι λαῶν εἰπεῖν· ἦ γὰρ ἐμοί γε πατὴρ ὣς ἤπιος ἦεν, εἷος ἐνὶ Τροίηι πολεμίζομεν υἷες Ἀχαιῶν. (15. 151–3) Farewell, young men, and greet Nestor shepherd of the host [for me]. For he was as kindly to me as a father while we sons of the Achaeans made war at Troy.

Menelaus asks Peisistratus and his friend to greet Nestor on his behalf (151). He remembers that Nestor was always ‘sympathetic’ to him when they fought together at Troy (152–3). The most immediate allusion here is intra-textual, 302 Danek (1998) 291. Helen’s proper husband, Menelaus—like Paris (Il. 6. 290–1), has returned from his travels with Phoenician goods (Od. 15. 115–19). 303  Assimilating Helen to the model of Penelope; cf. Katz (1991) 41–5. 304  Clader (1976) 46. Menelaus is never Ἑλένης πόσις in the Iliad; whereas Paris receives the formula (Ἀλέξανδρος Ἑλένης πόσις ἠυκόμοιο) six times. The status ‘husband of Helen’ is ­precisely what is sought by the suitors (μάλα δ᾽ ἤθε̣λε ὃν κατὰ θυμὸν / Ἀργείης Ἑλένης̣ πόσις ἔμμεναι ηὐκόμοιο�, [Hes.] fr. 204. 42–3; cf. 54–5; fr. 200. 1–2); Ormand (2014) 194–6. 305 Cf. Il. 24. 281–313 (the departure of Priam from Troy, attended by Hecuba with the pouring of a libation and prayers to Zeus). Danek proposes that the poet adapted a local Laconian story about Odysseus, Icarius, and Penelope, Danek (1998) 100, 289, 291–2; cf. Paus. iii. 20. 10. The quotation, if that is what it is, would contribute to the identification of Telemachus with his father (292); cf. Reece (1993) 75; de Jong (2001) 363.

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172  Menelaus in the Archaic Period to the earlier moment at Sparta when Peisistratus shed tears for Antilochus (4. 186); intertextually it evokes the Iliad (cf. Il. 23. 602, 607–8) and the broader epic tradition.306 Telemachus echoes Menelaus’ warmth, praising him for his hospitality, friendship, and wealth. He hopes that he will have the opportunity to commemorate it to his father (158–9). In marked contrast to Odysseus (who remains a guest, both in the course of his long-delayed return and then on Ithaca at the cottage of Eumaeus and when entering his own house), Menelaus exemplifies the perfect host.307 Earlier on, the friendship of Antilochus was transferred to Peisistratus; now the friendship of Menelaus with Odysseus is transferred to his son. When an omen suddenly occurs (an eagle clutching a goose in its talons) Peisistratus asks Menelaus for an interpretation (15. 160–8). Menelaus pauses, characteristically, to reflect (15. 169–70; cf. 4. 116–19; Il. 17. 91–106). Meanwhile Helen speaks up, as she did in Book 4, before he can respond (15. 171). In the earlier instance Helen preserved the semblance of Menelaus’ authority by posing her identification of Telemachus as a deferential question (cf. Od. 4. 138–9). In this instance, by contrast, Helen ignores Menelaus and claims prophetic power to interpret the omen and foretell Odysseus’ return (Od. 15. 172–8). The omen, placed as the culmination of the long ‘delayed departure’ typescene, might seem something of an afterthought or narrative ‘dead end’. But it prepares for the more important appearance of the same two birds in Penelope’s dream (Od. 19. 535ff.). It is also the audience’s last glimpse of Menelaus in the poem.308 So memorable was it, it seems, that Stesichorus (Ὁμηρικώτατος ποιητής) modelled his own version on the Homeric ori­gin­al (Stesich. fr. 170 D-F = P.Oxy. 2360).309 A number of changes seem to have been made.310 So far as we can tell, Menelaus is more prominent in Homer. He is the one asked to interpret the omen (15. 166–8), consistent with the relationship between the two men that Homer has developed (4. 611–19). Helen’s speech interrupts their exchange (15. 171). Stesichorus, it would

306 Cf. Cyp. arg. 26–9; fr. 17 Bernabé; Danek (1994/5), (1998) 292. 307  Cf. Most (1989): ‘It is part of the oddity of the end of our Odyssey that it lacks the cul­min­at­ ing scene of normative, acceptably joyous feasting that we might well expect to cap it’ (26 n. 54). 308  Cf. West (2014b) 241–2; Kelly (2015) 40; cf. Reece (1988) 8. 309  See Davies and Finglass (2014) 472–6; Kelly (2015) 39–41; Noussia-Fantuzzi (2015) 435–6. 310  Stesichorus has changed the bird in question from an eagle (Od. 15. 161) to a ‘cawing crow’ (λακέρυζα κορώνα fr. 170. 9), perhaps in a typical gambit of Helen’s self-blame (e.g. Il. 6. 344–8), Davies and Finglass (2014) 480; discussion at Kelly (2015) 40 n. 91.

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The Odyssey  173 seem, has Helen speak first after the appearance of the omen, addressing Telemachus rather than Menelaus. θε[ῖ]ον ἐ[ξ]αίφνας τέρας ἰδοῖσα νύμφα, ὧ̣ δ̣ε̣ δ̣᾽ ἔ̣[ει]φ̣᾽ Ἑλένα φωνᾶι ποτ[ὶ] παίδ᾽ Ὀδύσειο[ν· (Stesich. fr. 170. 1–2 D-F) The lady, suddenly glimpsing the divine portent, Helen spoke out thus in her voice to the child of Odysseus.

Stesichorus seems to have reassigned to Helen, moreover, Menelaus’ asseveration that he will not delay Telemachus for long (cf. Τηλέμαχ᾽, οὔ τί σ᾽ ἐγώ γε πολὺν χρόνον ἐνθάδ᾽ ἐρύξω 15. 68).311 – ˘ – x – ˘] μ̣᾽ οὐδ᾽ ἐγώ σ᾽ ἐρύ[ξ]ω̣ – ˘ ˘ Παν]ε̣λό̣ π ̣ α̣ ̣ σ᾽ ἰδοῖσα φίλου πατ[ρ]ὸς υἱὸ�ν̣ .

(fr. 170. 10–11)

Nor shall I detain you, . . . Penelope seeing you, the son of your dear father.

So far as we can tell from what remains, the changes would seem to increase Helen’s authority, eliding Menelaus and effectively reinterpreting her relationship to him.312 Menelaus and his gift, it is true, might appear later on in the Stesichorus poem (fr. 170. 22–3) but the reading is uncertain.313 In Homer, once Helen concludes her interpretation of the omen Telemachus does not speak further to Menelaus and there is no mention of his gifts (cf. 15. 174–8). As the curtain closes on Sparta Menelaus has begun to be consigned to a  conventional role in the Trojan story, ‘husband of Helen’. Telemachus addresses his (truly final) parting words to Helen alone, a pious wish that all should be accomplished as she has foretold (15. 179–81). As if in tacit recognition of the dominant role played at Sparta by the wife, Telemachus invokes Zeus as ‘husband of Hera’, as Menelaus has done earlier: Ζεύς . . . ἐρίγδουπος πόσις Ἥρης (180, cf. 15. 112). Telemachus finally departs (182) and Menelaus does not appear ‘onstage’ again in the poem.

311  Cf. Davies and Finglass (2014) 475–7; Kelly (2015) 40. 312  Kelly (2015) 40–1. 313  Πλεισθενίδας (25) might denote Agamemnon rather than Menelaus, as it does elsewhere (e.g. Ibyc. PMG 282. 21–2 [= S151. 21–2]). Davies and Finglass (2014) report that the letter following the patronymic ‘more closely resembles Α than Μ’ (481, cf. 475–6).

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174  Menelaus in the Archaic Period

Envoi Telemachus remembers Menelaus’ words, and not Helen’s, later on Ithaca. He responds to Penelope’s repeated requests for information about Odysseus’ nostos (17. 106) with a story of his own in which Menelaus is decisive (108–49). Telemachus reports that he was sent ‘to Menelaus’ from Pylos (17. 116–17)—which is true (cf. 3. 317–18)—and only Menelaus’ gifts are mentioned (15. 76). Telemachus goes on to quote directly from Menelaus’ third speech—at which Helen was conspicuous by her absence (17. 124–41 = 4. 333–50). Telemachus reports, in indirect discourse, only Menelaus’ information about his father (17. 142–6).314 Telemachus believes that Menelaus’ words facilitated his return (ὣς ἔφατ᾽ Ἀτρείδης δουρικλειτὸς Μενέλαος. / ταῦτα τελευτήσας νεόμην· 148–9). Of Helen, Telemachus says only that ‘I saw Argive Helen there, for whose sake the Argives and Trojans toiled much, by the will of the gods’ (ἔνθ᾽ ἴδον Ἀργείην Ἑλένην, ἧς εἵνεκα πολλά / Ἀργεῖοι Τρῶές τε θεῶν ἰότητι μόγησαν 17. 118–19).315 Telemachus assigns responsibility for the war to Helen (as do other characters in the Odyssey).316 Telemachus modifies the formula of responsibility characteristically used by Menelaus of himself in the Iliad for this purpose (e.g. 3. 99–100). The Iliadic allusion is ‘capped’, as in Book 4, by the substitution of the typically Odyssean verb (μόγησαν) for the Iliadic one (παθεῖν). Helen is ‘responsible’ but has taken on the status of little more than an image; something to be seen.317 Menelaus’ prophecy, not Helen’s, has led Telemachus home while Menelaus’ apotheosis—a lonely one, on Odyssean terms— has begun. Several brief mentions of Menelaus apart from his appearances in Books 3, 4, and 15 complete the picture of who Menelaus ‘is’ in the Odyssey. Each mention is uttered by a different internal narrator and we may detect different self-reflexive strategies of allusion employed in each. The first to be discussed, related by Odysseus, involves the strategy of ‘trickery’ and ‘disguise’. The second occurs in the ‘embedded song’ of Demodocus. A third, uttered by Agamemnon, occurs in the ‘second nekyia’.

314  West (2014b) 253 with Kirchhoff objects to the exact repetition of verses (‘disgracefully lazy’) though they are otherwise unexceptionable in the MS tradition. 315  Cf. Achilles’ desire to ‘see Helen’ (Cypr. arg. 59). 316 Cf. Od. 11. 438 (Odysseus), 14. 68 (Eumaeus), 22. 227–9 (Athena), 23. 224 (Penelope). 317  When Penelope refers to her she becomes something to be talked of; an exemplum (Od. 23. 218–24).

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The Odyssey  175 We have seen how the poet invites comparisons between Menelaus and Odysseus, and so it is only to be expected that Menelaus should tell stories to Telemachus about exploits they undertook together (cf. 4. 271–89, 342–5).318 What is more curious is that Odysseus, and Demodocus singing about Odysseus, should mention Menelaus. Odysseus (disguised as a Cretan stranger, 14. 199) tells Eumaeus about an ambush that he undertook with ‘Odysseus’ and Menelaus before the fall of Troy. The Cretan stranger wishes he were young again, with his strength restored, as when he participated in an ambush outside the walls of Troy (cf. 14. 217–21).319 εἴθ᾽ ὣς ἡβώοιμι βίη τέ μοι ἔμπεδος εἴη ὡς ὅθ᾽ ὑπὸ Τροίην λόχον ἤγομεν ἀρτύναντες· ἡγείσθην δ᾽ Ὀδυσεύς τε καὶ Ἀτρείδης Μενέλαος, τοῖσι δ᾽ ἅμα τρίτος ἦρχον ἐγών· αὐτοὶ γὰρ ἄνωγον. (14. 468–71) I wish that I were young and my strength was sound, as when we prepared and led an ambush beneath Troy. Odysseus and Menelaus son of Atreus were the leaders, and I was third in command. For they themselves bid me [to do so].

The trope is familiar.320 The ‘Cretan’ longs for youthful strength even though what is really needed for the present exploit, stealing a coat, is trickery.321 This unreliable narrator claims to have been the third man leading an ambush, along with Odysseus and Menelaus. By making Menelaus the companion of Odysseus, the ‘Cretan stranger’ refigures the Iliadic tradition.322 Menelaus is assigned the role he is pointedly prevented from playing in the Iliadic Book 10. Agamemnon prevents Menelaus from being considered for the ambush out of anxiety for his brother’s safety (Il. 10. 234–9; cf. 240).323 Because of it, Diomedes chooses Odysseus instead (243–5).324 Diomedes fights alongside Odysseus in the Iliad (cf. 11. 311–400) 318  See de Jong (2001) 4–5. 319  Cf. Nagy (2017) 40–1. 320 Cf. Od. 1. 255–66; 4. 341–6. 321  Cf. Brennen (1987). 322  Another Iliadic allusion has been noted, the mention of the Aetolian Thoas as victim of the coat theft (cf. Il. 2. 638), Brennen (1987) esp. 2–3. Eumaeus previously was tricked by an Aetolian who claimed to see Odysseus among some Cretans (Od. 14. 379–81). The identities are reshuffled with comic irony as the ‘Cretan Odysseus’ tricks Eumaeus, like Thoas, out of a coat; see Marks (2003). 323  Shared formulae and diction are suggestive of poetic interaction between Iliad 10 and the Odyssey; see Hainsworth (1993) 154–5. 324  Odysseus and Diomedes are ‘ambush’ heroes, Hainsworth (1993) 176. A depiction of the Rhesus episode appears on a Chalcidian black-figure amphora from Rhegion from the mid-sixth century (Getty 96.AE.1).

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176  Menelaus in the Archaic Period and he is linked with Odysseus in the epic tradition (cf. Il. parv. arg. 2. 1, fr. 25).325 In the Odyssey he has been ‘corrected out’ of the Philomeleides incident—by Menelaus.326 We have already seen a possible interaction with the Iliadic Book 10 in the speech of Eidothea (4. 371–2), who rebukes Menelaus for being ‘witless’ (χαλίφρων) and for succumbing to adversity (ἑκὼν μεθίεις)—the very qualities from which Agamemnon had exonerated him (Il. 10. 122). According to the ‘Cretan’ speaking to Eumaeus, Menelaus—not Diomedes—was Odysseus’ companion in an ambush before the fall of Troy. Demodocus, singing before Odysseus and the Phaeacians, com­mem­or­ates the companionship of Odysseus and Menelaus at the sack of Troy, too. His ‘embedded song’ refigures certain features of the Deiphobus episode from the epic tradition. ἤειδεν δ᾽ ὡς ἄστυ διέπραθον υἷες Ἀχαιῶν ἱππόθεν ἐκχύμενοι, κοῖλον λόχον ἐκπρολιπόντες. ἄλλον δ᾽ ἄλληι ἄειδε πόλιν κεραϊζέμεν αἰπήν, αὐτὰρ Ὀδυσσῆα προτὶ δώματα Δηϊφόβοιο βήμεναι ἠΰτ᾽ Ἄρηα σὺν ἀντιθέωι Μενελάωι. (8. 514–18) He sang of how the sons of the Achaeans sacked the city, streaming out from the horse, coming out from the hollow hideout. And he sang of how this way and that each man laid waste to the steep city, but Odysseus went to the halls of Deiphobos like Ares, with godlike Menelaus.

Danek comments that the return of Helen is secured by the expedition to Deiphobus’ house, ‘und damit ist das τέλος des Krieges erreicht’.327 But the slaughter of Deiphobus traditionally belongs to Menelaus (cf. Il. exc. arg. 14–15; [Apollod.] Epit. 5. 22).328 For Demodocus to transfer this major Trojan episode to Odysseus is consistent with the elevation of the hero in Demodocus’ first song and the poem overall. Here Odysseus, like Menelaus in the Iliad, is assimilated to Ares (ἠΰτ᾽ Ἄρηα 518; e.g., Μενέλαος ἀρηΐφιλος Il. 3. 232). But 325 Compare the replacement of Diomedes as first-place prizewinner by Odysseus in Kleitias’ depiction of the games of Patroclus on the François vase (Flor. Mus. Arch. 4209; BAPD 300000). 326  Menelaus makes no mention of Diomedes in his account of the Philomeleides exemplum (Od. 4. 341–6); the scholia report that Diomedes was Odysseus’ companion in Hellanicus (fr. 150 Fowler); cf. Hainsworth (1993) 176; above pp. 148–9. 327  Danek (1998) 159; cf. West (2014b) 195. 328  The Cycle attributes other killings to Odysseus (Helenus, cf. Il. parv. arg. I.  6; ‘some Trojans’ 16–17).

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The Odyssey  177 Menelaus, unlike Agamemnon in the first song of Demodocus, is not entirely ‘written out’ of the story.329 The poet retains Menelaus as Odysseus’ ­companion (σὺν ἀντιθέωι Μενελάωι 518). These two mentions uttered by, and to, Odysseus, lend his authority to Menelaus’ stature in the poem. The ‘Cretan’ and Demodocus reinforce what Menelaus himself says, that he and Odysseus are close friends and companions, who were together inside the treacherous horse (esp. 4. 269–73). The claim that Menelaus was Odysseus’ friend is especially significant in light of the fact that elsewhere in the poem Odysseus does not mention any Achaean hero as his friend. A final, seemingly nonce, mention gives Agamemnon the last word on Menelaus. An allusive stance may be signalled by its occurrence in a ‘nekyia’ and use of the device of ‘remembering’. εἰπέ μοι εἰρομένωι· ξεῖνος δέ τοι εὔχομαι εἶναι. ἦ οὐ μέμνηι, ὅτε κεῖσε κατήλυθον ὑμέτερον δῶ, ὀτρυνέων Ὀδυσῆα σὺν ἀντιθέωι Μενελάωι Ἴλιον εἲς ἅμ᾽ ἕπεσθαι ἐϋσσέλμων ἐπὶ νηῶν; (24. 114–17) Tell me what I ask: for I declare that I am your guest-friend. Do you not remember when I came there to your house to urge on Odysseus, with godlike Menelaus, to accompany us to Ilium on the well-benched ships?

In Hades, Agamemnon reminds Amphimedon that they met long ago on Ithaca before the war (24. 116). He tries to jog Amphimedon’s memory with a self-reflexive trope implying that he (or at any rate, the audience) should recognize the episode (ἦ οὐ μέμνηι 115).330 The episode at hand would seem to be the recruitment expedition prior to the Trojan War recounted in the Cypria. Agamemnon is not mentioned in the version of the episode known to Proclus (cf. Cypr. arg. 25–33). But here Agamemnon fancies himself first among the leaders of the undertaking and ostentatiously states that he was Amphimedon’s guest-friend (114).331 Agamemnon implies that Menelaus was his subordinate and claims himself—not Menelaus—as guest-friend to the Ithacans. The gambit is familiar. Agamemnon ‘corrects’ a probably familiar Trojan War episode to make himself leader.332 Menelaus, elided but not altogether left out, remains syntactically (though not grammatically) 329 Cf. Od. 8. 75. 330  Cf. Currie (2016) 141. 331  Cf. Danek (1998) 476–7. 332  Cf. Kullmann (1960) 275–8; Heubeck (1992) 372–3; Danek (1998) 476.

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178  Menelaus in the Archaic Period alongside Odysseus (Ὀδυσῆα σὺν . . . Μενελάωι 24. 116). Agamemnon uses the same noun-epithet phrase as Demodocus, aligning Menelaus with the gods (σὺν ἀντιθέωι Μενελάωι; cf. 8. 518). The collocation of Menelaus’ name with Odysseus might hint at their friendship (116) though Agamemnon ­construes Menelaus with himself (κατήλυθον . . . / . . . σὺν . . . Μενελάωι 115–16). To tell ‘his’ story of Menelaus, the Odyssey-poet alludes to the epic trad­ ition and the Iliadic Menelaus while expanding the range of the character and refiguring—for a time—his traditional and Iliadic relationships with Agamemnon and Helen. In the story of Nestor Menelaus achieves independence from Agamemnon; in his own tale of his sojourn in Egypt Menelaus makes no mention of Helen. The Odyssean story of Menelaus ends, however, with a hero who is defined by his relationships with brother and wife. Though he is sought out by Telemachus and ultimately destined for a life of blessedness, at Sparta he is ultimately silenced by Helen (Book 15) and made junior partner in the recruiting expedition by Agamemnon (Book 24). The Odyssey prepares the figure, therefore, for what lies ‘outside’ Homer. Other archaic poets and painters reveal something of Menelaus’ importance and wealth but for the most part conceive of him in terms of his relationships with his brother and wife.

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3

Why Menelaus? Alcman, Sappho, Stesichorus, [Hesiod], and the Cycle

Alcman Turning from Homer to archaic lyric poetry and the Epic Cycle, it is easier to see that Menelaus had an important role to play than to say precisely how it was done.1 The Spartan poet Alcman was singing of Menelaus in the seventh century bc: να ]           ] ὁ̣ Μεν̣έλαος       6            ]α ̣ δ ̣[    ̣   ̣   ̣   ̣   ̣ ἀ]υτὸν τιμᾶσθαι ἐν ταῖς Θεράπ]ναις μετὰ τῶν Διοσκούρων        ]κος ἐν τῆι Πελο� [ποννησ  ̣  ̣   ̣         ]σ[.]α̣ι Ἑλένη και[̣      10 (a)   ] λεγο�  [       |         ]ω    ̣   ̣   ̣ [  ̣]   ̣  Ἀφα[ρητιαδ-   (c) ] ̣μετ    ̣   ̣   ̣δ̣    ̣ [     |  ]ν  ἐν̣ Θεράπναις   [ τιμ]ὰ̣ς ἔχουσι [c.    π̣ο[λλὰ]  δ̣’  ἐμνάσαντ’  οσ [   13 (fr. 19 Calame = PMG 7 [P.Oxy. 2389, fr. 1 (a), (b), (c)])  Menelaus . . . ho[nored] him [at Therap]ne with the Dioscu[ri . . . in the Pelo[ponnese ] . . . Helen and . . . Apha[ratiadae . . . at Therapne . . . have [hon] ors . . . they were celebrated with [many] hymns.

At Therapne, it seems, Menelaus was honoured and perhaps even hymned (12–13). We cannot determine more precisely how, on the basis of what little remains of Alcman’s poem, though Helen was part of it (10). I shall return to this fragment and others concerning Therapne in the context of 1  Cf. Sammons’s (2017) use of the theory of ‘character space’ to interpret character depiction in the Cyclic epics (esp. 127–8).

Menelaus in the Archaic Period: Not Quite the Best of the Achaeans. Anna R. Stelow, Oxford University Press (2020). © Anna R. Stelow. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780199685929.001.0001

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182  Menelaus in the Archaic Period the archaeology of the cult (Alcm. frr. 4–5; Chapter 5). The very mention of  Menelaus, however, indicates that he was featured early on in archaic lyric poetry.2

‘Cyclic’ Epic Fragments: Cypria What we know of Menelaus in Cyclic epic3 depends largely on the summaries of mythographers such as Proclus and Apollodorus.4 That he did thus-and-so, in one or other of the named epics, can be ascertained from Proclus’ summary, along with other testimonia and scanty fragments.5 Menelaus seems to have played a rather prominent role in several of these, especially the Cypria and the Nostoi (as the Odyssey implies, cf. Od. 1. 11–14, 326–7).6 Various conjectures and hypotheses have been made to reconstruct missing elements of Menelaus’ ‘biography’. I take an intentionally modest interpretative approach, presenting what Menelaus did in Cyclic epic according to the summaries and testimonia while leaving more speculative reconstructions to others.7 Special attention will be given to the question (implicit in the Odyssey) regarding the existence and nature of a nostos-poem about 2  I assume neither Homeric influence on other poets/traditions (Homeric, Hesiodic, Cyclic, lyric) nor the reverse, due to the insufficiently extant evidence, at least as regards Menelaus (in contrast to the probable influence of the Iliad on the Odyssey). Contrasts or similarities in his depiction, if they arise, are noted; direct Homeric allusion seems likely only in the case of Stesichorus’ Nostoi (fr. 170 D-F), ‘arguably the most Homeric fragment of all lyric poetry’ (Davies and Finglass [2014] 475). 3 See West (2013) 55–65 for an overview of the epics’ titles, putative authorship, and attestation. 4  I cite the Cyclic epic summaries, testimonia, and fragments from Bernabé. English translations may be found at West (2003); Sammons (2017) 305–11. Discussion and reconstructions by West (2013) are noted where relevant. On Proclus and other sources for Cyclic epic, cf. West (2013) 4–40; Carey (2015) 45–50; Burgess (2016) 14–16; Currie (2016) Appendix A (229–33); Tsagalis (2016) 95; Sammons (2017) 225–34. For the individual poems, Davies (2014) [Theban epic]; (2016) [Aith.]; (2019) [Cypria]. 5  Variants of cyclic material contained in Proclus may be found in classical and Hellenistic poets such as Pindar and the Attic tragedians, Theocritus, and Lycophron; in mythographers such as Apollodorus and Quintus of Smyrna and in scholia. West (2003) considered Apollodorus so valuable that he inserted comparable passages into his translations of Proclus, set off by angle brackets positing a common Hellenistic source for both—with the telling caveat, ‘Apollodorus has sometimes incorporated material from other sources such as tragedy’ (12–13). To avoid circularity I discuss supplementary sources separately from the summaries of Proclus and the fragments. For the position, cf. Burgess (2001) 45 with n. 135; cf. Davies (2016) 1–2; Davies (2019) 4–8, 171–88. 6  Cf. Danek (1998) esp. 94; Petropoulos (2012); Tsagalis (2012b); West (2013) 247; West (2014b) 27–30; West (2015) 100; Sammons (2017) esp. 223–4. 7  West (2013) 244–87 (Nostoi); Sammons (2017) 47–55 (Nostoi), 55–61, 152 (Cypria).

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Alcman, Sappho, Stesichorus, [ Hesiod ] , and the Cycle  183 Menelaus, and I discuss questions of possible allusivity between the cyclic and Homeric poems. After the epic fragments I shall discuss Menelaus’ place in the Hesiodic Catalogue, Sappho, and Stesichorus, leaving the very interesting mention of Menelaus in the Plataea elegy of Simonides (Simon. fr. 11 W2) to the final chapter. Menelaus’ connections to Crete, already explored in connection with Homer, will be discussed at the end of the present discussion and in the Appendix.8 The Cypria reflects Menelaus’ singular importance to the story of the Trojan War. Even in summary, moreover, we can perceive similarities and contrasts with the Iliadic Menelaus.9 In the Cypria, Paris is received by Menelaus in Sparta after being hosted by the Dioscuri in Lacedaemonia (ἐπιβὰς δὲ τῆι Λακεδαιμονίαι Ἀλέξανδρος ξενίζεται παρὰ τοῖς Τυνδαρίδαις, καὶ μετὰ ταῦτα ἐν τῆι Σπάρτηι παρὰ Μενελάωι· Cypr. arg. 12–13).10 Proclus leaves the exact location of Menelaus’ palace relative to his brothers-in-law unspecified. Castor and Pollux were still ruling there, Proclus implies, when Paris absconded with Helen (16–18) though they ended their earthly lives before Menelaus returned from Crete (21–5). Menelaus, lawful husband of their (now absent) sister Helen, seems to have taken possession of the region at that point.11 Homer presupposes a similar sequence of events, as Helen is unaware that her brothers are no longer alive in Lacedaemonia (Il. 3. 236–44).12 There are several apparent differences between the two poems regarding the extent and nature of Menelaus’ power. As discussed above, the Cypria appears to suggest that Menelaus was lord of Sparta (only) whereas Lacedaemonia was controlled by the Tyndarids until they ended their lives

8  For Menelaus’ genealogy, see Appendix. 9  On the tailoring of the Cypria to the Iliad, West (2013) 56–9; Sammons (2017) 218–21; or the reverse, Kullmann (1960) (passim); Currie (2016) 2–3. For a judicious discussion of these positions, along other possible explanations such as the independent adoption of traditional motifs or Proclus’ revision of cyclic material in light of the Homeric poems, Davies (2019) esp. 173, 185–7. 10  For a discussion of the Dioscuri in the episode and what follows (Cyp. arg. 21–3), Davies (2019) 97–100. 11 Cf. Od. 11. 299–304. 12 Cf. the version in the Hesiodic Catalogue: Castor and Pollux live in ‘the house of Tyndareus’ ([Hes.] frr. 199. 38; 204. 61) ‘in Lacedaemonia’ ([Hes.] frr. 198. 26–7; 199. 31–2, 37–8). In [Hes.] the suitors made their suit for Helen to Castor and Pollux (frr. 197. 13–14; 198. 26–7; 199). Both the Cypria argumentum and [Hesiod] therefore imply that Tyndareus died before the wooing of Helen and the oath. Apollodorus reports that the oath was made to Tyndareus (Bib. iii. 10. 9; cf. Stesich. fr. 87 D-F with Davies and Finglass [2014] 326) and pseudo-Apollodorus adds that he left his kingdom to Menelaus after his death (Epit. 2. 16). Cf. Davies (2019) 203–4.

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184  Menelaus in the Archaic Period (12–13).13 In the Catalogue of Ships, on the other hand, Menelaus leads the men of Lacedaemonia (Il. 2. 581) from its nine cities (Pharis, Sparta, Messe, Bruseiai, Augeiai, Amyklai, Helos, Laas, and Oitylos, Il. 2. 581–5).14 In the Odyssey Menelaus has some measure of control over Argos as well (Od. 3. 251; 4. 171–7; 15. 80–5). Perhaps the difference reflects Menelaus’ inheritance of Lacedaemonia from the Tyndaridae after they end their lives (cf. Cyp. arg. 21–4). Whether or not this is so, according to the Cypria Menelaus’ power seems to have been limited to Sparta before he obtained control of Tyndarid Lacedaemonia (Cyp. arg. 12–13).15 The kingdom of Agamemnon, moreover, is not mentioned at all. And this contrasts with the view taken by some modern interpreters that the Atreidae traditionally ruled jointly in Sparta.16 At Sparta Paris gave gifts to Helen at a feast (καὶ Ἑλένηι παρὰ τὴν εὐωχίαν δίδωσι δῶρα ὁ Ἀλέξανδρος 13–14), presumably in a typical welcome-scene (cf. Od. 4. 49–58).17 Pseudo-Apollodorus adds the detail that the feasting at Sparta lasted for nine days.18 The gifts are not mentioned elsewhere and their function is not stated by Proclus. The presentation of gifts to one’s host is, however, the reverse of the practice of traditional epic hospitality. Earlier in the Cypria, Proclus makes clear, Paris chose Aphrodite in the goddesses’ beauty contest because he was promised Helen in marriage (καὶ προκρίνει τὴν Ἀφροδίτην ἐπαρθεὶς τοῖς Ἑλένης γάμοις Ἀλέξανδρος Cyp. arg. 7–8); later, the marriage-rites are carried out (καὶ ἀποπλεύσας εἰς Ἴλιον γάμους τῆς Ἑλένης ἐπετέλεσεν 19–20). The gifts might accordingly have been courtship-gifts, although presumably Menelaus did not recognize them as such.19 After Paris’ reception at Sparta and the feast Menelaus asks Helen to ­provide for the guests in his absence and then sails to Crete (καὶ μετὰ ταῦτα Μενέλαος εἰς Κρήτην ἐκπλεῖ, κελεύσας τὴν Ἑλένην τοῖς ξένοις τὰ ἐπιτήδεια παρέχειν, ἕως ἂν ἀπαλλαγῶσιν 14–16). Davies observes that Menelaus’ request that Helen look after Paris is an ‘unfortunately phrased and ill-omened 13 Cf. Cyp. fr. dub. 37 Bernabé (= fr. 8 West) ap. ΣA Il. 3. 443; cf. [Apollod.] Epit. 3. 2. West (2003) reads ἦλθεν εἰς Λακεδαίμονα τὴν Μενελάου πόλιν (= Cypr. fr. 8. 4–5W) for ἦλθεν εἰς Λακεδαίμονα (= Cyp. fr. dub. 37. 3–4 Bernabé). 14  Cf. Kirk (1985) 213. 15  Cf. [Hes.] fr. 204. 41–3 (not specifying the location of Menelaus’ kingdom prior to winning Helen); Salapata (2014) 28–34. 16 Cf. Nilsson (1932) 69; cf. Kullmann (2009) 6 with earlier citations at n. 22; Salapata (2014) 28–34. 17  Cf. Reece (1993) 22–5. 18 [Apollod.] Epit. 3. 3. 1; Davies (2019) 100 considers the nine-days’ feast an authentic detail in the Cypria. 19  Cf. the courtship-gifts brought to Helen by the suitors (e.g. [Hes.] frr. 199. 39; 200. 44) and given to Penelope in the Odyssey (18. 290–303); West (2013) 89–90. Cf. Davies (2019) 100.

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Alcman, Sappho, Stesichorus, [ Hesiod ] , and the Cycle  185 injunction’ and speculates that Proclus included it in his summary of the Cypria because it received some dramatic treatment in that poem.20 Helen’s solicitude for the guest at Sparta, however it was narrated in the Cypria, soon gives way to an erotic affair (Cyp. arg. 16–17, below). Menelaus’ journey to Crete is consistent with the themes already prominent in Homer’s portrayal of Menelaus. In the Teichoscopia Helen reverses the  direction of the hospitality, telling Priam that ‘Menelaus often offered Idomeneus hospitality (ξείνισσεν) in our household when he would come [to visit] from Crete’ (Il. 3. 232–3); Idomeneus and Menelaus both are at the battlefront in Book 13 of the Iliad. In the Odyssey, Crete is integral to Menelaus’ past and future. Nestor recalls that Menelaus was delayed at Crete in the course of his return (Od. 3. 291–9) and Proteus foretells that Menelaus is destined to live forever with Cretan Rhadamanthys in Elysium.21 Meanwhile, back at home, ‘Aphrodite brought Helen to Paris’, reports Proclus, implying that the infidelity began in that poem before the couple left Sparta (Cyp. arg. 16–17; cf. Il. 3. 445–7). Recall that in the Iliad Menelaus dwells on the wrong done against him personally (Il. 13. 623, 626) and Menelaus complains to the Trojans that ‘you had been hosted with kindness by her’ [Helen] (13. 627)—rather than, as we might have expected, ‘by me’ (or ‘us’). Janko saw irony here, which is no doubt right.22 This is consistent with Menelaus’ request to Helen prior to departing for Crete that she continue to entertain Paris at Sparta (Cyp. arg. 15–16, above). Homer’s mention of Helen’s hospitality, on this reading, evokes the traditional version adopted by the Cypria in which Paris took advantage of Menelaus’ absence from Sparta to seduce her before even leaving his home.23 The couple departs by night, continues Proclus, ‘having stowed [in his ship] a very great quantity of goods’ (17–18); the point is another major grievance of Menelaus in the Iliad (e.g. Il. 3. 70–2).24 Hera sends a storm which carries the pair off-course to Sidon and Paris sacks the city (χειμῶνα δὲ αὐτοῖς ἐφίστησιν Ἥρα. καὶ προσενεχθεὶς Σιδῶνι ὁ Ἀλέξανδρος αἱρεῖ τὴν πόλιν 18–19).25 Danek proposes that the Odyssey-poet might have modelled 20  Davies (2019) 101; cf. Ov. Her. 16. 303–6. 21  Cf. [Apollod.] Epit. 3. 3. 1–3; Davies (1986) 105–6. An alternate explanation for Menelaus’ absence from Sparta (to adjudicate the succession of Molos’ sons) was offered by Alcidamas; cf. Kahil (1955) 30 with n. 1. 22  Janko (1994) 124. 23  Elsewhere in the Iliad Paris states that their sexual union occurred only after they left Sparta (Il. 3. 443–5). 24  West (2013) 90; cf. Davies (2019) 101–2. 25 Cf. Il. 6. 289–92 and the different version of the Cypria remembered by Herodotus (ii. 116. 6–117); Burgess (2001) 18–21; West (2013) 90–3.

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186  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Menelaus’ delay in Sidon on Paris’ visit there.26 In light of the independent popularity of Menelaus’ return story, however, it is at least as possible that the two draw independently on a typical stopping-point in nostos-stories (cf. Od. 14. 288–92). Paris ‘completes the marriage rites’ when the couple reaches Troy (Cyp. arg. 19–20).27 Iris herself brings news of ‘what happened at home’ to Menelaus (24–5) implying not only the cosmic importance of the event but the gods’ interest in Menelaus as implicated in it all.28 Paris’ offense against Menelaus is encompassed in the overarching plan of Zeus (Ζεὺς βουλεύεται μετὰ τῆς Θέμιδος περὶ τοῦ Τρωϊκοῦ πολέμου Cyp. arg. 4) but Hera is on Menelaus’ side (cf. Cyp. arg. 18).29 The gods’ interest in Menelaus is consistent with the Iliad, in which Hera and Athena are Menelaus’ ‘protectors’ (Il. 4. 7–8). Hera’s claim that she and Athena have promised Menelaus a successful end to the war and safe return evokes either the Cypria or the traditional story on which it is based (Il. 5. 715–16).30 Having been advised by Iris of what has happened, Menelaus goes to visit Agamemnon to consult with him about an expedition against Troy (ὁ δὲ παραγενόμενος περὶ τῆς ἐπ’ Ἴλιον στρατείας βουλεύεται μετὰ τοῦ ἀδελφοῦ, καὶ πρὸς Νέστορα παραγίνεται Μενέλαος 25–6).31 From Agamemnon Menelaus goes on to visit Nestor, apparently alone (26). The visit to Nestor and the stories Menelaus is told (Cypr. arg. 27–9) provide the context of two fragments probably involving Menelaus (frr. 16–17).32 Bernabé attributes the first fragment, though merely reported to be ‘Cyclic’, to the Cypria.33 οὐκ ἀπ’ ἐμοῦ σκεδάσεις ὄχλον, ταλαπείριε πρέσβυ; (Cyp. fr. 16 Bernabé = Cyp. fr. adesp. 7W) Won’t you dispel my heaviness of heart, long-suffering old man?34

This fragment would seem to preserve the words of Menelaus, seeking ­consolation from Nestor. The complaint, the melancholy, respect for 26  Danek (1998) 291–2. 27 Cf. Il. 3. 163, 429, 447. 28 Cf. Tsagalis (2016) 106; Sammons (2017) 153–4 (Menelaus and Paris are ‘false ­protagonists’ leading up to Achilles as the central figure in the ‘cosmic plan’). 29  Cf. Davies (2019) 13–39. 30  West (2013) 98. 31  Cf. [Apollod.] Epit. 3. 6; E. IA 77–9; West (2013) 97–8; Davies (2019) 121–2. 32  Cf. West (2013) 98–101. 33  Bernabé (1982), defending Welcker’s assignment (ii. 516) of the fragment to Menelaus’ visit to Nestor in the Cypria; cf. Bernabé (1987) 54 app. crit. West (2003) prints it as Epic. adesp. 7, but West (2013) 100 accepts the attribution to the Cypria; cf. Davies (2019) 128. 34  Cf. Bernabé (1982) 82–4, reading ὄχλον as ‘heaviness, grief ’ (cf. Od. 8. 149 [σκέδασον δ’ ἀπὸ κήδεα θυμοῦ]), West (2013) 100 prefers ‘bother, nuisance, tiresomeness’ (following Obbink ad loc.).

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Alcman, Sappho, Stesichorus, [ Hesiod ] , and the Cycle  187 Nestor—all of these elements are consistent with what we have seen of Menelaus in Homer. A second fragment is attested in several authors. Athenaeus reports that it is from the Cypria. οἶνόν τοι, Μενέλαε, θεοὶ ποίησαν ἄριστον θνητοῖς ἀνθρώποισιν ἀποσκεδάσαι μελεδῶνας. (Cyp. fr. 17 Bernabé = F 18 West)35 Wine, you know, Menelaus, the gods have made the best thing for mortal men to dispel their cares.

Perhaps in response to the request for consolation (fr. 16 Bernabé) Nestor sententiously addresses Menelaus.36 As in Homer, the vocative address to Menelaus in character-text (οἶνόν τοι, Μενέλαε Cyp. fr. 17. 1) employs traditional, metrically convenient diction to express character and point of view. Nestor’s gnomic statement is characteristic of a speech-style that he shares with the Homeric Menelaus. Nestor’s offer of wine to Menelaus in the Cypria corresponds to a traditional motif perhaps drawn on for the description of his cup in the Iliad (Il. 11. 632–5).37 Proclus reports the subjects of the stories Nestor tells: the destruction of Epopeus for having seduced the daughter of Lycurgus (Cyp. arg. 27–8); Oedipus; the madness of Heracles; and Theseus and Ariadne (28–9). Homer uses Nestor’s reminiscences to incorporate traditional stories into his narrative as paradigms (e.g. Il. 11. 670–803).38 Jouan observed that a common thread in two of the stories told in the Cypria, the punishment of amorous abductors, is consistent with ‘les soucis moralisants’ in evidence elsewhere in the Cyclic poem.39 Menelaus, the cuckolded husband, takes the avenging role often assigned in traditional stories to the woman’s father.40 35  Cf. Bernabé (1987) 55 app. crit. 36  Cf. Davies (2019) 127–8. 37 For the verse inscription on the eighth-century Ischia cup, LSAG2 235 with pl. 47.1; cf. Hainsworth (1993) 292–3; Malkin (1998) 157–60, (2002) 162–6; Burgess (2001) 114 with nn. 236–7 for further bibliography; Giuliani (2013) 90 with 282 nn. 6–7; West (2013) 101; Osborne (2018) 169 n. 4 (a symposium piece). On its reading as a curse-inscription, Faraone (1996). 38  Kullmann (1960) 257–8, noting especially the references to Heracles in both speeches and the fact that in Euripides Menelaus is told the story of Heracles’ madness as well (cf. HF 83ff.). On interpreting the depiction of character in the Epic Cycle, Sammons (2017) 127–32. 39  Jouan (1966) 373–4. For moral and aesthetic differences between Cyclic and Homeric poems, cf. Severyns (1928) 63–92, 155–9; Kahil (1955) 27–32; Griffin (1977); Burgess (2001) 158, 169–71; Davies (2010); West (2013) 60–3; Sammons (2017) 148–56; Davies (2019) 10–11, 123–6. 40  Sammons (2017) 59–60; but cf. Edmunds (2016) 55–6 for other husband-recovery motifs in folklore.

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188  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Proclus reports that the recruiting of the Achaeans was undertaken after Menelaus left Pylos (ἔπειτα τοὺς ἡγεμόνας ἀθροίζουσιν ἐπελθόντες τὴν Ἑλλάδα 30).41 Menelaus may have conducted the recruitment expedition with Nestor, perhaps without Agamemnon as there is no mention of him in the  visit to Odysseus (Cyp. arg. 31–3) and this is consistent with Nestor’s ­version in the Iliad (Il. 11. 767–70).42 All of which directly contrasts with Agamemnon’s claim in the Odyssey (cf. Od. 24. 115–19). Menelaus is unnamed in Proclus but surely took part in the embassy to recover Helen (καὶ διαπρεσβεύονται πρὸς τοὺς Τρῶας, τὴν Ἑλένην καὶ τὰ κτήματα ἀπαιτοῦντες Cypr. arg. 55–6). As Proclus narrates it, the failure of the embassy resulted in the siege of the city (57). We have seen that the episode, always featuring Menelaus, was already known to Homer. Antenor makes mention of it to Priam and Helen (cf. Il. 3. 205–24; above, p. 55). In the Iliad, Agamemnon ruthlessly slays the two sons of Antimachus because of what their father did during the embassy (cf. Il. 11. 122–47). Antimachus had been bribed by Paris to oppose the return of Helen when Menelaus and Odysseus visited the Trojan assembly (124–5). When they appeared there, Agamemnon claims, Antimachus spoke up and advised the Trojans to kill Menelaus on the spot (139–41).43 The episode evidently remained popular on vases and in poetry well into the fifth century. Menelaus is the most prominent hero in the famous embassy scene on the Corinthian blackfigure ‘Astarita krater’ (Vat. Coll. Astarita A 565, Fig. 4.11), as we shall see in Chapter 4; and, after the end of the period under our consideration, in Bacchylides (fr. 15).44

Little Iliad; Ilioupersis In the Little Iliad Menelaus is implicated in several major pre-sack events: the defilement of Paris’ corpse (Il. parv. arg. 8–9), the marriage of Deiphobus and Helen (10), and the recovery of Helen (Il. parv. fr. 19). Due to the difficulties of reconstructing the Little Iliad a modest

41  The oath of Tyndareus, not mentioned in Proclus, would have obliged the other suitors of Helen to join the expedition; cf. Apollod. Bibl. 3. 10. 8–9; [Hes.] fr. 204. 78–85; Stesich. fr. 87 D-F; Jouan (1966) 159; Bernabé (1987) 40 (app. crit); West (2013) 101–2; Davies-Finglass (2014) 326; Sammons (2017) 59–60; Davies (2019) 203–4. 42  West (2013) 102–3. 43  Cf. A. Parry (1989) 323–4; Hainsworth (1993) 238–40. 44  See Beazley (1957); M. I. Davies (1977); Scaife (1995) 186–9; Danek (2005); de Sanctis (2012); West (2013) 117; Davies (2019) 164–70.

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Alcman, Sappho, Stesichorus, [ Hesiod ] , and the Cycle  189 interpretative approach to the characterization of Menelaus is advisable here as elsewhere.45 After the death of Achilles and the contest for his arms many remaining leaders of the Trojan army were killed (Il. parv. arg. I. 6–8). Philoctetes kills Paris but Menelaus has his revenge by defiling the corpse (καὶ τὸν νεκρὸν ὑπὸ Μενελάου καταικισθέντα ἀνελόμενοι θάπτουσιν οἱ Τρῶες 8–9). By contrast, though Menelaus longs to punish the Trojans, he does not articulate especially bloodthirsty sentiments in the Iliad (cf. Il. 13. 620–39).46 He is willing to resolve the war without sacking Troy (Il. 3. 281–7) and he initially is willing to spare the life of a suppliant (6. 37–53).47 The fight over a corpse was a traditional theme in poetic and visual epic, but not its defilement. Menelaus’ behaviour here is extreme, and meant to be so, as with Achilles’ defilement of the corpse of Hector in the Iliad (Il. 22. 395–404). Both heroes express overweening ‘personal animus’ against the victim.48 A scholion to Od. 8. 517 preserves a fragment of the Little Iliad concerning the marriage of Helen to Deiphobus (Il. parv. fr. 4. 1–5 ap. ΣEPQV Od. 8. 517). The fragment completes the information in Proclus, with Deiophobus taking the place of Paris as a sort of doublet (cf. Il. parv. arg. I.  10).49 The incident was apparently well known; Menelaus obliquely alludes to it (Od. 4. 274–6)—though Demodocus, in his version, credits Odysseus, not Menelaus, with the killing of Deiphobus at the sack (Od. 8. 516–18, above pp. 176–7). West revives an old suggestion that the stories told by Helen and Menelaus in Odyssey Book 4 (242–89) have been ‘fitted’ to accommodate traditional Deiphobus material.50 Both versions probably evoke a shared tradition; the Odyssey-poet using the Deiphobus references for the depiction of the characters and their relationships. What use the poet(s) of the Little Iliad made of it is a matter for speculation.51 Menelaus’ recovery of Helen after the sack of Troy was one of the most popular Trojan War subjects in Greek art, especially on sixth-century Athenian vases (Chapter 4). Proclus’ summary of the Cyclic ‘Sack’ poem 45  Cf. West (2013) 163–72. 46  Cf. Nestor (Il. 2. 354–6) and Agamemnon (Il. 6. 57–60) who seek, respectively, the rape of Trojan women and the murder of unborn Trojan children; Diomedes advocates the complete destruction of the Trojans (Il. 7. 402). 47  Though he is talked out of it by Agamemnon (cf. Il. 6. 62). 48  West (2013) 187–8. 49 Cf. Il. exc. arg. 14–15; cf. ΣHQ Od. 4. 276 with Severyns (1928) 334–7. 50  West (2013) esp. 207 with n. 54, cf. 169, 196–202, 206–8; cf. West (2014b) 170 with n. 40. 51  West and others note its potential for humour; West (2013) 207–8 (with further bibliography ad nn. 55–6).

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190  Menelaus in the Archaic Period known as the Ilioupersis, however, says very little about it.52 The summary simply states that ‘after discovering Helen Menelaus takes her back to his ships, having killed Deiphobus’ (Μενέλαος δὲ ἀνευρὼν Ἑλένην ἐπὶ τὰς ναῦς κατάγει, Δηΐφοβον φονεύσας, Il. exc. arg. 14–15).53 A more lively version of the reunion perhaps appeared in the Little Iliad, in which Menelaus is so overpowered by love at the sight of Helen’s breast (exposed in supplication) that he drops his sword (Il. parv. fr. 19 Bernabé). The episode is comically alluded to in the Lysistrata (ὁ γῶν Μενέλαος τᾶς Ἑλένας τὰ μᾶλά παι / γυμνᾶς παραϊδὼν ἐξέβαλ᾽, οἰῶ, τὸ ξίφος Ar. Lys. 155); the scholia here report that the story occurred in Ibycus and in Lesches’ Little Iliad. Elsewhere, however, the dropped-sword episode is attributed to Ibycus without mention of the Cyclic poem (PMG 296; cf. Σ Ar. Vesp. 714A).54 The episode became popular on fifth-century Athenian vases as well. Yet on extant evidence the episode does not seem to have been popular in archaic art. Wilkinson (2013) wonders whether it was known at all.55 The first extant depiction of the episode on Greek vases appears on the Villa Giulia ‘Onesimos cup’ dated to the early fifth century bc, where the fragments clearly show Menelaus dropping the sword (Fig. 4.8; pp. 226–7 below). And though the power of Helen’s beauty is undoubtedly traditional, in Homer this more often has to do with her speech (Il. 24. 761–75; cf. 3. 171–242). Menelaus recalls that it was the sound of her voice that nearly caused him and the other Achaeans to betray themselves (Od. 4. 275–89); she speaks up to interpret the bird omen (15. 172–8; cf. Stesich. fr. 170. 2 [φωνᾶι]). She does however become a thing to be seen later in the Odyssey (17. 118–19; cf. θαῦμα βροτοῖσι Cyp. fr. 9. 1; Cyp. arg. 59)—as well as talked about (Od. 23. 218–24).

Nostoi The Nostoi, as reported by Proclus, tells of the homeward journey of the Achaeans from Troy. The theme was evidently a popular one in the archaic 52  See West (2013) 223–7. On the visual evidence of the Tabulae Iliacae, Squire (2011), (2015) 502–9, 516–17; cf. Burgess (2016) 25–6. 53  Cf. [Apollod.] Epit. 5. 22. The killing of Deiphobus might have been as prominent in the narrative as the recovery of Helen, given its mention in Alcaeus (fr. 298. 12 V) as well as in the Odyssey (8. 517–18). Cf. West (2013) 234–5. 54  Cf. Bernabé (1987) 80 app. crit. (ad Il. parv. fr. 19); Wilkinson (2013) 262–68; Davies and Finglass (2014) 436–8 ad Stesich. fr. 106 D-F. 55  Cf. Wilkinson (2013) 263–5.

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Alcman, Sappho, Stesichorus, [ Hesiod ] , and the Cycle  191 period.56 The Odyssey-poet programmatically alludes to it in the beginning of his poem (1. 11–14).57 Welcker proposed that an alternate title of the Cyclic poem was Ἀτρειδῶν κάθοδος on the basis of a fragment in Athenaeus (7. 281b = Nost. fr. 4).58 Bernabé (1987) proposes instead that Athenaeus is referring merely to the portion of the poem concerning the return of Menelaus and Agamemnon, not the poem as a whole.59 M. L. West revived the notion of Welcker, however, in his (2003) Loeb edition of the epic fragments: ‘[t]he return of the two Atreidai formed the framework of the whole epic: it began with the dispute that separated them, and ended with Menelaus’ belated return.’60 What we have of the poem, as summarized in Proclus, is restricted in scope and very close to the Odyssey, as Georg Danek has shown (below).61 Due to an argument the brothers left Troy separately (Ἀθηνᾶ Ἀγαμέμνονα καὶ Μενέλαον εἰς ἔριν καθίστησι περὶ τοῦ ἔκπλου, Nost. arg. 3; cf. Od. 3. 134–6).62 Nestor’s version, like the Cypria, includes the detail that Athena was the cause of the strife between the Atreidae (135). Menelaus wanted to leave immediately whereas Agamemnon foolishly (Od. 3. 146) chose to stay in hopes of propitiating Athena (143–5; cf. Nost. arg. 4). Half of the Achaean army remained with Agamemnon while the rest of the Achaeans, including Nestor, Diomedes, and Odysseus, accompanied Menelaus (155–68; cf. Nost. arg. 5–6). The Cyclic Nostoi also corresponds to the Odyssey in that it includes a visit by Menelaus to Egypt (Nost. arg. 6–7, cf. Od. 3. 300–2; 4. 351–586).63 The oresteia is another shared theme, including the detail that Menelaus returned too late to prevent his brother’s death or to help Orestes take revenge (cf. Nost. arg. 17–19).64 It is generally agreed that the nostoi-stories variously told by Homer and his epic competitors drew to a 56 Extant nostos-poems include the Cyclic Nostoi (Nostoi test. 1–4; arg.; frr. 1–11); Sapph. fr. 17V; Alc. fr. 298V; Stesich. frr. 169–70D-F with Davies and Finglass (2014) 470–81; cf. West (2002) 213–14. 57  Cf. Danek (1998) 79–86; West (2013) 247.    58 Welcker, Ep. Cyclus I2 261; II. 292. 59  Bernabé (1987) 93. 60  West (2003) 17; cf. West (2013) esp. 246–9. 61  Cf. [Apollod.] Epit. 6. 1. 62  Cf. Sammons (2014) positing a traditional background to Nestor’s story of the brothers’ quarrel (Od. 3. 136–49). 63  Cf. Hdt. ii. 116–20; E. Helen. 64  Proclus does not state this but it is implied by the sequence of events: Proclus mentions the return of Menelaus after stating that vengeance was exacted by Orestes and Pylades (17–19). In the Odyssey both Nestor and Menelaus dwell on the fact that Menelaus returned too late to be of aid (Od. 3. 303–12; 4. 90–2) and it is an on-going source of chagrin for Menelaus (esp. Od. 4. 93). Cf. [Apollod.] Epit. 6. 29 ὀκτὼ δὲ πλανηθεὶς ἔτη [sc. Μενέλαος] κατέπλευσεν εἰς Μυκήνας, κἀκεῖ κατέλαβεν Ὀρέστην μετεληλυθότα τὸν τοῦ πατρὸς φόνον. ἐλθὼν δὲ εἰς Σπάρτην τὴν ἰδίαν ἐκτήσατο βασιλείαν.

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192  Menelaus in the Archaic Period greater or lesser extent on a common epic tradition also known to the Lesbian poets (cf. Sappho fr. 17).65 Various directions of influence have been suggested, with the nostoi-tradition often considered as (one) inspiration for the Odyssey.66 It is uncontroversial to assume that Homer’s version of the nostoi and the Cyclic poem of that name both reflect traditional stories about the Achaeans’ returns. The priority and/or dependence of one poem on the other, a vexed question since antiquity, will probably never be definitively answered.67 On the balance it seems more likely that the author of the Nostoi reflects the Odyssey than the reverse.68 Danek aptly observes that the plot structure of the Cyclic Nostoi may be condensed to a ‘quasi-formulaic expression of the Odyssey’: αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ Πριάμοιο πόλιν διεπέρσαμεν αἰπήν, / βῆμεν δ᾽ ἐν νήεσσι, θεὸς δ᾽ ἐκέδασσεν Ἀχαιούς (Od. 3. 130–1 = 13. 316–17).69 The Odyssey-poet engages traditional nostos themes, rather than a single poetic exemplar. Was Menelaus the hero of the Cyclic Nostoi? M.  L.  West provocatively claimed that he was.70 The quarrel of Menelaus and Agamemnon narrated by Homer echoes, on this reading, the opening of the Cyclic epic (Od. 3. 130–6).71 West even revives Grotefend’s ‘reconstruction’ to supply the opening verse of the putative ancestor epic: *μῆνιν ἄειδε θεὰ γλαυκώπιδος Ὀβριμοπάτρης, ἥ τ᾽ ἔριν Ἀτρείδηισι μετ᾽ ἀμφοτέροισιν ἔθηκεν.72

Continuing in an admittedly ‘mythopoetic’ vein West composed the remainder of *‘The nostos of Menelaus’, culminating with a katabasis (on which Odysseus’ journey was modelled).73 Sammons (2017) makes Menelaus the hero of the Nostoi, too, but in his reconstruction Menelaus’ return provided 65  Cf. Page (1955) 60; Burgess (2001) 65–7; West (2002) 214. 66  Tsagalis (2012b) 312; cf. Petropoulos (2012) 308. 67  e.g. Suda s.v. 500 Adler; cf. Danek (1998) 86; Burgess (2006); Petropoulos (2012) 291, 307–8. West (2013) 247–50 discusses the possibility of ‘mutual interaction’ between the poems; cf. West (2014b), suggesting that the Odyssey-poet transferred points of Odysseus’ itinerary in the eastern Mediterranean to Menelaus (117–18); contrast Danek (2015). 68  For the origin of Cyclic nostoi-myths in the Telemachy, Hölscher (19892) 94–8; cf. Danek (1998) 110 on the Unterscheidungskriterium; Danek (2015) 356–9. And note Stesichorus’ use of the Odyssey, Davies and Finglass (2014) 18–23, 36; 300–3; Kelly (2015) 34–44. 69  Cf. Danek (2015) 358 with n. 17. West brackets 331 (following Nitzsch). 70  West (2014b) 30 n. 12; cf. (2013) 249. Cf. Tsagalis (2012b) 335–6; Grethlein (2017). 71  Cf. Petropoulos (2012) 303–4. 72  Georg Friedrich Grotefend at West (2013) 251. 73  The old suggestion of Welcker revived by West (2013) 279; argumentation at 277–80 with ‘reconstruction’ at 281–2. For the katabasis of Odysseus and its intratextual interaction with the story of Menelaus, Heubeck (1989) 72–3.

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Alcman, Sappho, Stesichorus, [ Hesiod ] , and the Cycle  193 the overarching frame rather than the bulk of the narrative.74 As Sammons tells it, Menelaus withdraws from the poem early on as a result of a quarrel with Agamemnon, like Achilles in the Iliad, to allow for the stories of others to be told. Menelaus only returns at the end—too late to save his brother— just in time to narrate his own adventures to Orestes. As told by the poet of the Odyssey, Menelaus was pre-eminent among the returning Achaean heroes—save one. Menelaus’ importance depends in the first instance, however, on his unique character and position within the poem. Despite the undoubted appeal of reconstructing a Nostos epic with Menelaus as hero, one should like to see it attested to in some way if such a poem ever existed.75 Such evidence, at present, is lacking; and a speculative claim of this sort exceeds, in any case, the purview of my study.

The Hesiodic Catalogue of Women The Catalogue poet76 answers the question that unsympathetic readers of Homer may ask. Why Menelaus? The Odyssey indicates why Menelaus is destined for paradise (Od. 4. 569). But the Homeric poems leave unanswered the more fundamental question, why did he win Helen in marriage? From the Homeric perspective the question might be not ‘why Menelaus’ but ‘why not Menelaus’?77 Helen professes not to know why she left him, a husband lacking nothing in mind or body (πόσιν τε / οὔ τεο δευόμενον, οὔτ᾽ ἂρ φρένας οὔτέ τι εἶδος Od. 4. 263–4). Achilles is φέρτατος (‘strongest’), it is true, in the Iliad (e.g. 2. 768–9). If he had been old enough, the poet of the Catalogue states, Achilles would have won her ([Hes.] fr. 204. 87–92). But the Hesiodic poet then reveals the sense in which Menelaus was best, wealth (Μενέλαος / . . . κτήνωι γὰρ Ἀχαιῶν φέρτατος ἦεν [Hes.] fr. 198. 24–5). Agamemnon had a hand in Menelaus’ success ([Hes.] fr. 197). Another suitor lost his chance to win Helen and become brother-in-law to the Dioscuri (fr. 197. 13–14) because Agamemnon assisted Menelaus in his suit for Helen (ἀλλ’ Ἀγαμέμνων / γαμβρὸς ἐὼν ἐμνᾶτο κασιγνήτωι Μενελάωι 14–15).78 The 74  Sammons (2017) 47–55. 75  E.g., by a remark in the Homeric scholia (as in the mention of Menelaus’ role in the Iliad at ΣbT ad Il. 17. 1); or by an allusion in a later poet (cf. the katabasis of Aeneas, V.  Aen. 6. 236–901). 76  Citations from M-W3. 77  For possible influence of the Iliad on the Hesiodic Catalogue, West (2002) esp. 215. 78  Agamemnon is disqualified from becoming a brother-in-law to the Dioscuri because he already is that (cf. the riddling couplet γαμβρὸν ποιήσαντο . . . / γαμβρὸς ἐών ([Hes.] fr. 197. 14–15); and so the suit is transferred to his brother (15).

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194  Menelaus in the Archaic Period participation of a brother in a marriage-suit is paralleled elsewhere in the poem.79 Still, the seemingly gratuitous inclusion of Agamemnon admits of several explanations. The Catalogue-poet might have felt obliged to include the already-married Agamemnon due to his pre-eminence among the Achaeans.80 It is characteristic of Helen-narratives, moreover, that she is associated with a male pair (e.g., the Dioscuri; Theseus and Perithous).81 And Agamemnon, as brother-in-law to Helen through Clytaemnestra, presumably would be uniquely well-equipped to win its acceptance (cf. [Hes.] fr. 197. 15).82 Cingano observes that ‘by specifying that Menelaus’ chances of success were based not only on his wealth, but also on the fact that his brother was an “insider” in the family of Tyndareus, the passage complements what is told in frr. 198 and 204. 41–2, where the wealth of Menelaus is mentioned as the main reason for his victory’.83 The Hesiodic poet insists that Menelaus was victorious over the other suitors not in his desire for Helen but because he was able to offer the most wealth. Another suitor—whose name is no longer preserved in the papyrus fragment (fr. 204. 41–3)—also wished very much to marry Helen. μνᾶτο· πλεῖστα δὲ δῶρα μετὰ ξανθὸν Μενέλαον μνηστήρων ἐδίδου· μάλα δ᾽ ἤθε̣λε ὃν κατὰ θυμὸν Ἀργείης Ἑλένης̣ πόσις ἔμμεναι ἠυκόμοιο� . (­­fr. 204. 41–3) . . . wooed [her]. For, of the suitors, he offered the most gifts after fair Menelaus. He wanted very much in his heart to become the husband of lovely haired Argive Helen.

The formulaic verses suggest that Menelaus’ wealth was a traditional ‘fact’ of his story.84 . . . τοὶ δ᾽ ἀπτερέως ἐπί̣θ̣ο̣ν̣[το ἐλπόμενοι τελέειν πάντες γάμον· ἀλ̣λ̣’ ἄ[ρα πάντας  85 Ἀτε[ίδ]ης ν̣[ίκησε]ν ἀρηΐφιλος Μενέλαος πλε̣̣ῖ [στ]α πορών· Χε̣ί̣ρων δ’ ἐν Πηλίωι ὑλήεντι Πηλείδην ἐκ̣ό̣μιζε πόδας ταχύν, ἔξοχον ἀνδρῶν,

79  Cf. [Hes.] fr. 37. 5. 80  West (1985) 118. 81  Edmunds (2016) 66–102; cf. West (1975) 11; Cingano (2005) 135 n. 62. 82  Cingano (2005) 135–6. 83  Cingano (2005) 139. 84  The superlative number of Menelaus’ gifts (πλεῖστα δὲ δῶρα 204. 41) is a variation of the formula πολλὰ δὲ δῶρα (cf. [Hes.] fr. 204. 54; cf. 87).

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Alcman, Sappho, Stesichorus, [ Hesiod ] , and the Cycle  195 παῖδ’ ἔτ’ ἐόν[τ’·] οὐ γάρ μιν ἀρηΐφιλος Μενέλαος νίκησ’ οὐδέ τις ἄλλος ἐπιχθονίων ἀνθρώπων       90 μνηστεύων Ἑλένην, εἴ μιν κίχε παρθένον οὖσαν οἴκαδε νοστήσας ἐκ Πηλίου ὠκὺς Ἀχιλλεύς. ἀλλ’ ἄρα τὴν πρίν γ’ ἔσχεν ἀρηΐφιλος Μενέλαος· ἣ τέκεν Ἑρμιόνην καλλίσφυρ[ο]ν ἐν μεγάροισιν ἄελπτον. πάντες δὲ θεοὶ δίχα θυμὸν ἔθεντο      95 ἐξ ἔριδος· . . . And they complied swiftly, because all were hoping to complete the marriage. But the son of Atreus, warlike Menelaus, defeated them all because he offered the most [gifts]. Chiron on wooded Mt Pelion was looking after the swift-footed son of Peleus, pre-eminent among men, while he was yet a child. And warlike Menelaus would not have defeated him, nor would any other mortal man, in the suit for Helen, if swift Achilles, returning home from Mt Pelion, had encountered her while she was still unmarried. But as it was Menelaus won her first. She bore lovely ankled Hermione in the palace unexpectedly. And all the gods were set at variance in their heart, from strife.

The Hesiodic Catalogue provides a reasonably complete picture of the circumstances surrounding the wooing of Helen and Menelaus’ part in it. Each suitor has sworn to the oath of Tyndareus (fr. 204. 78–84) for they all hoped to contract the marriage (84–5; see above p. 188).85 But ‘warlike Menelaus’ was victorious in the suit, for he was able to furnish the most gifts (85–7). The Atreid family, the Catalogue mentions elsewhere, was the wealthiest ancestral line.86 ἀλκὴν μὲν γὰρ ἔδωκεν Ὀλύμπιος Αἰακίδηισι, νοῦν δ’ Ἀμυθαονίδαις, πλοῦτον δ’ ἔπορ’ Ἀτρείδηισι. ([Hes.] fr. 203) Olympian [Zeus] gave valour to the descendants of Aeacus, intelligence to the sons of Amythaon, and wealth to the Atreidae.

Odysseus realized this and stayed home. ‘He knew in his spirit that fair Menelaus would win, for in wealth he was pre-eminent among the Achaeans (ἤιδεε γὰρ κατὰ θυμὸν ὅτι ξανθὸς Μενέλαος / νικήσει, κτήνωι γὰρ Ἀχαιῶν φέρτατος ἦεν· fr. 198. 24–5). 85  Cf. Stesich. fr. 87 D-F with Davies and Finglass (2014) 326; Davies (2019) 203–4. 86  Thucydides traces the wealth of the Atreidae back to the Asiatic wealth of the ancestor Pelops (Thuc. i.9.1).

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196  Menelaus in the Archaic Period The Hesiodic poet limits the potential success of Menelaus’ suit with the proviso that neither he nor any other mortal suitor would have won the hand of Helen if Achilles had met her while she was still a maiden ([Hes.] fr. 204. 89–91). Achilles is fundamentally different from other mortal men (90); he was extraordinary even as a child (88–9) due to his descent from the goddess Thetis—not to mention his inherited courage (cf. fr. 203).87 As it happened (ἀλλ’ ἄρα), Menelaus married Helen first, leaving the marriage to Achilles as a potential only to be realized by later poets (τὴν πρίν γ’ ἔσχεν ἀρηΐφιλος Μενέλαος / 93).88 Achilles’ potential threat to Menelaus’ successful possession of Helen anticipates the actual threat later posed by Paris.89 The juxtaposition of Achilles’ and Menelaus’ competing claims recalls the contrast between the two men in the Iliad—with Helen, rather than Antilochus, as ‘middle man’.90 The Catalogue-poet, so far as we can tell, construes Menelaus in terms of Agamemnon and Helen even as he definitively affirms his pre-eminence among the suitors. Homer made Menelaus’ poor reputation a thing of the past. ‘Formerly’, Apollo states, Menelaus was considered a poor warrior (τὸ πάρος περ Il. 17. 587).91 The same formula seems to appear in the Catalogue (ὡ̣ς̣ τ̣ὸ̣ πάρος περ [Hes.] fr. 204. 102; cf. Op. 184) with reference to the end of the age of heroes.92 ‘Formerly’, so the Catalogue-poet emphasizes, heroes fought the Trojan War for ‘lovely haired Helen’ ([Hes.] fr. 204. 118–19). Clay shows that the Hesiodic Catalogue makes the wooing of Helen a turning-point in human history ([Hes.] fr. 204. 95–110).93 In the unfolding of the plan of Zeus Menelaus’ successful bid for Helen was the beginning of the end of the heroic age.94 87  Cf. [Hes.] fr. 211. 3. 88  In the Cypria, Aphrodite and Thetis arrange a viewing for Achilles, who ‘desires to look upon Helen’ (Cyp. arg. 58–60). As a result of the encounter Achilles restrains the other Achaeans who are now eager to return home (61). Jouan (1966) 304 surmised that the encounter in the Cypria ‘avait la même importance que la mort de Patrocle, dans l’Iliade.’ Later mythographers imagined a marriage between Achilles and Helen on the island of Leuke (e.g. Ptolemy Hephaistion ap. Phot. Bib. 149a 18); Lycophron narrated a dream-encounter between the pair (Lyc. 171ff.) with Σ Il. 3. 140. Cf. Severyns (1928) 303–4; West (2002) 210 with n. 18; Davies and Finglass (2014) 301, 324; Davies (2019) 171–2. 89  In the Iliad, Achilles (in contrast to e.g. Diomedes, Il. 7. 400–3) makes it clear that he does not feel compelled to fight the Trojans for the return of Helen to Menelaus (1. 152–60; cf. 9. 338–41). Since Achilles was not one of Helen’s original suitors he is not bound by the oath of Tyndareus ([Hes.] fr. 204. 78–85). The existence in the epic tradition of an encounter between Achilles and Helen orchestrated by Aphrodite and Thetis (at Cyp. arg. 59–60) gives all the more point to Achilles’ denial. Cf. Clay (2003) 172 with n. 83. 90  Cf. Ormand (2014) 199–200. 91  Cf. Menelaus’ assertion that Euphorbus’ brother had believed—formerly—that he was ‘worst’ among the Achaeans on the battlefield (Il. 17. 24–8). 92  Clay (2003) 169–73, (2005) 28–31; Currie (2012) 44; cf. Ormand (2014) 208–9. 93  Clay (2003) 168–74, (2005) 34; cf. Ormand (2016) 50. 94  Clay (2003) 169; the genealogical treatment of Menelaus is consistent with the Catalogue of Women and the Hesiodic corpus overall, Clay (2003) 165–6.

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Alcman, Sappho, Stesichorus, [ Hesiod ] , and the Cycle  197 In that past, as told by the Catalogue-poet, Menelaus’ excellence lay in his wealth.95 The attribute is largely ignored in the depiction of Menelaus in the Iliad, although certain details hint at it.96 The Odyssey-poet, on the other hand, puts Menelaus’ exceeding wealth on display: the palace at Sparta, influence over the region, and the goods he has received on his return. Thematically, however, Menelaus’ wealth is portrayed as an expression of the divine favour he enjoys. For the author of the Catalogue Menelaus’ peerless wealth explains his success in winning Helen. It allowed him to proffer the most gifts even though Achilles was ἔξοχον ἀνδρῶν, the best of all men ([Hes.] fr. 204. 88).97 By the choice of the epithet ἀρηΐφιλος, as against ξανθός (cf. fr. 204. 41), the Catalogue-poet allows an audience familiar with the story to look forward to Menelaus’ part in the war that, on account of his successful bid for Helen, will necessarily ensue.98

Sappho frr. 16–17 Menelaus mentions in the Odyssey that he visited Lesbos with Odysseus (Od. 4. 341–6).99 The extant fragments of Sappho indicate that Menelaus, along with Helen, was of some interest in the flourishing song tradition there during the Archaic period (frr. 16 and 17).100 Πλάσιον δη μ[    ̣   ̣   ̣   ̣   ̣] λ̣οισα̣[    ̣   ̣   ̣   ̣]ω,  1 πότνι᾽ Ἦρα, σὰ χ[αρίε]σ̣σ̣᾽ ἐόρτα̣. τὰν ἀράταν Ἀτρ[έϊδα]ι̣ π̣ό̣ησάν τοι βασίληες,          4 (fr. 17 V + P. GC inv. 105 col. ii)101 Near . . . Lady Hera, your lovely festival, which the Atreid kings established [in fulfillment of] a vow to you.

95  Ormand (2014) 201. 96 Cf. Il. 7. 469–71; 17. 248–51; cf. Kirk (1990) 291; Edwards (1991) 87 ad locc. 97  Cf. Ormand (2014) 149–50. 98  Cf. the translation of Ormand (2016) 51, ‘war-loving’. 99  Cf. Danek (1998) 111–12. 100  Sappho fr. 16 is cited from Voigt (1971); Sapph. fr. 17 is Voigt’s text as supplemented at West (2014a) 3–4 (based on Burris et al. [2014]). For Lesbian versions of Trojan epic, Aloni (1986) 80; Steinrück (1999); West (2002) with 207 n. 1 for further bibliography; Bowie (2010) 67–74; on shared Laconian and Lesbian cult, cf. Wide (1973 [1893]) 387. Kelly (2015) advises caution in assessing putative Homeric influence on Alcman and the Lesbian poets (25–34). 101  With the reconstruction of West (2014a) 4 of vv. 1–2, 12 (following Wilamowitz); cf. Burris et al. (2014) 10, 19–21.

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198  Menelaus in the Archaic Period As first supplemented by Wilamowitz (1914), Sappho fr. 17 appears to begin with the commemoration of a visit by the Atreidae to the island.102 West (2014a) interprets the fragment to refer to the establishment of a festival of Hera, which had been promised her (3–4).103 Later in the fragment, Sappho brings the long-ago visit (τὸ πάλ̣ [αιον [12])104 into the present day (perhaps cultic) context of her poem.105 If the context of the sacrifice is the return from Troy, Sappho’s differs significantly from the Homeric and Cyclic versions in placing Agamemnon and Menelaus together on Lesbos. In Homer, by contrast, Menelaus meets up with Nestor on the island while Odysseus, Agamemnon, and the rest have departed separately (Od. 3. 165–72). It might reflect a local Lesbian version.106 It is in any case a small but notable difference, if the conventional readings are correct, that Homer places Menelaus there without his brother (cf. Od. 4. 341–6).107 Menelaus is the illustration that caps the priamel at the beginning of the Anactoria ode (fr. 16).108 Helen has become an exemplum for Sappho as she is for Penelope in the Odyssey (cf. 23. 218–24). What the Sapphic voice says about Helen is not merely ‘background’ to the ode but the key to its interpretation.109 Ο]ἰ μὲν ἰππήων στρότον, οἰ δὲ πέσδων,  1 οἰ δὲ νάων φαῖσ’ ἐπ[ὶ] γᾶν μέλαι[ν]αν ἔ]μμεναι κάλλιστον, ἔγω δὲ κῆν’ ὄτ             τω τις ἔραται· [—]

102 Reading Ἀτρ[έϊδα]ι as nom. plur., Wilamowitz (1914) 228; Page (1955) 59–60; Voigt (1971) 44–5; West (2014a) 4; cf. Burris et al. (2014) 6, 20–1 [dat. sg.]. 103  Thus West (2014a) 4; cf. Burris et al. (2014) 19–21. 104 Cf. πάλ̣ [αον Burris et al. (2014) 10, 22. 105  Calame (2009) 3–7. Calame interprets the term πάλαιον (12) as implying not only distance in time but narrative, signalling the age of heroes (i.e. ‘myth’) (6). See Calame (2011) on Sappho’s use of deixis in fr. 17V to bring the myth into the hic et nunc of a particular ritual context (esp. 518–19); Burris et al. (2014) 5. Sappho’s production of the myth as poetry allows it to transcend the immediate pragmatic context and endure (Edmunds [2016] 36). The Hesiodic Catalogue-poet seems to use the same ‘mythologizing’ semantic strategy (cf. [Hes.] fr. 204. 102). 106  Originally proposed by Page (1955) 60, noting the similarity of the version in Aeschylus (Ag. 617–79). 107  Cf. Burris et al. (2014) 6. 108 Page (1955) 53–4 with earlier bibliography; Race (1982) 63–4; Burnett (1983) 281; Blondell (2010) 377–86; Boedeker (2012) 73–6; West (2014a) 2–3. 109  Bierl (2003) 97; cf. Page (1955) 56.

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Alcman, Sappho, Stesichorus, [ Hesiod ] , and the Cycle  199 πά]γχυ δ’ εὔμαρες σύνετον πόησαι    5 π]άντι τ[ο]ῦ̣τ’, ἀ γὰρ πόλυ περσκέ̣θ̣ο̣ι̣σ̣α κ̣άλ̣λο̣ς̣ [ἀνθ]ρ̣ώπων Ἐλένα [τὸ]ν ἄνδρα               τ̣ὸν̣[              αρ]ι̣στον110 [—] κ̣αλλ[ίποι]σ̣’ ἔβα ’ς Τροΐαν πλέοι̣[σ̣α Some say a company of horsemen, others infantry, others a fleet of ships is the most beautiful thing on the dark earth; but I say it is whatever one loves. It is very easy to make this intelligible to all; for she who greatly surpassed all people in beauty, Helen, deserted the [very] best man and sailed away to Troy.

Austin polemically articulated the problem, for some moderns, with Menelaus. ‘Who in antiquity, besides Sappho, ever thought of Menelaus as the best . . . ?’111 Euripides apparently noticed the seeming incongruity in the Sappho ode, too, signalling it with a parody: Μενέλεων, ἀνθρώπιον / λῶιστον, λιποῦσα . . . (E. Cycl. 185–6). Homer’s Helen and Sappho seem to agree, however, that Menelaus is ‘best’, probably of husbands (cf. Od. 4. 263–4). Burnett commented that ‘[t]he first in Helen’s list of rejected items is ‘husband’ and it is notable that this husband stood as the cap of some other list, just as Helen herself did’.112 The Hesiodic Catalogue supplies just such a potential list, where Menelaus is superlative among the other potential husbands because of wealth. Even if one interprets the adjective to refer to some other excellence, moreover, Sappho has named Menelaus as best in some respect.113 For good or ill, Helen left this ‘best’ man, Menelaus, for ‘what she loved’ (κῆν’ ὄτ-/τω τις ἔραται 3–4). Helen is cast in Paris’ typical role, ‘judge’ and partisan of Aphrodite.114 Is Helen’s choice an example to be emulated or shunned?115 In the Iliad Priam and the Trojan elders abstain from blaming Helen for her departure (Il. 3. 154–65).116 But neither Helen nor anyone else in Homer approves of her desertion of Menelaus.117 Other post-Homeric poets blame Helen even 110 Text as printed by Voigt; cf. πανάρ]ι̣στον, the widely accepted supplement of Page, printed in Voigt (1971) 44 app. crit. 111  Austin (1994) 58. 112  Burnett (1983) 28. 113  Most (1981) 14–16; Dodson-Robinson (2010) 2–6. 114  Blondell (2010) 379. 115  Cf. du Bois (1978) 79–88; Most (1981); Burnett (1983) 277–90; Fredericksmeyer (2001) with further bibliography at 75 nn. 2–3; West (2002) 211; Blondell (2010) 381–4; Edmunds (2016) 126–7 with n. 134. 116  Cf. Blondell (2010) 349–50. 117 Cf. Od. 4. 261–3.

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200  Menelaus in the Archaic Period more strongly.118 [Hesiod] makes Helen the capping member of a triad of bad sisters of a bad family.119 Helen’s choice of Paris in Sappho, therefore, however justifiable, remains equivocal. Fredericksmeyer observes that Sappho makes no attempt to reverse or undo the largely negative characterization of Paris in Helen’s character-text in the Iliad.120 If Sappho is self-consciously alluding to Helen’ judgement about Menelaus in the Odyssey, as Blondell believes, the allusion would indeed ‘cast . . . a distinctly negative light on Helen’s actions’.121 But Sappho’s tone stands in contrast to Alcaeus’ extremely negative characterization (fr. 283). She abstains from praise or blame; Helen was ‘led astray’ (Sappho. fr. 16. 11) rather than ‘crazed’, as Alcaeus would have it (ἐκμάνεισα Alc. fr. 283. 5).122 Sappho implies that Helen’s passion must have been very great indeed to leave so excellent a husband.123

Stesichorus: Helen, Palinodes, Ilioupersis, Nostoi Stesichorus’ extant corpus offers several tantalizing but frustratingly incomplete glimpses of Menelaus. The editorial tradition reports that Theocritus’ Epithalamium for Helen is based on ‘the first [book] of the Helen of Stesichorus (fr. 84 D-F = Theocr. 18 arg.).124 Precious little remains of this Helen (frr. 84–9 D-F).125 As reconstructed, however, the Helen seems to have contained familiar Trojan War themes preserved in the Hesiodic and Cyclic corpora such as the oath of the suitors (fr. 87 D-F) and the ἀρχή κακῶν (fr. 85 D-F).126 Menelaus is not mentioned by name in what remains of Stesichorus’ Helen but he might be the ‘lord’ mentioned in the first verse of a florid fragment that seems to describe their wedding: πολλὰ μὲν κυδώνια μᾶλα ποτερρίπτουν ποτὶ δίφρον ἄνακτι (fr. 88. 1 D-F ap. Athen. 3.81d). 118  Alcaeus (283V); cf. Dodson-Robinson (2010); Cypr. fr. 9 with Sammons (2017) 43–7; Stesich. Helen (fr. 85. 4–5 D-F); cf. [Apollod.] Epit. 3. 3–4; Davies and Finglass (2014) 319–23; Currie (2015) 285–6. 119  She was the source of ill-repute (2) for their father Tyndareus for ‘shaming the bed of fair Menelaus’ (ὣς δ’ Ἑλένη ἤισχυνε λέχος ξανθοῦ Μενελάου, [Hes.] fr. 176. 2, 7). Menelaus is here, as in Homer, ξανθός; also at [Hes.] 204. 41. In lyric poetry Menelaus increasingly cedes the epithet to Helen, e.g. Stesich. fr. 112. 5–6 D-F ξ]α̣ νθὰ δ᾽ Ἑλένα̣ Π̣ρ[ιάμοιο νυὸς / βα]σιλῆος ἀοιδιμ̣ . . .; cf. Sapph. fr. 23. 5V; Ibyc. S151.5 PMGF [= PMG 282] with Davies and Finglass (2014) 442; above p. 161. 120  Thus Fredericksmeyer (2001) 80; but West (2002) 211 regards the Helen-exemplum in Sappho as positive. 121  Blondell (2010) 382; cf. Fredericksmeyer (2001) 79–80. 122  Cf. Boedeker (2012) 75. Cf. Alc. fr. 283; Davies (1986); Fredericksmeyer (2001) 79 with n. 11 for further bibliography; West (2002) 211. 123  Pfeijffer (2000) 3. 124  Cf. Davies and Finglass (2014) 319. 125  See Davies and Finglass (2014) 319–30. 126  Davies and Finglass (2014) 320.

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Alcman, Sappho, Stesichorus, [ Hesiod ] , and the Cycle  201 The editors interpret the ‘chariot’ as Menelaus and Helen’s wedding chariot, though their wedding is not otherwise an especially popular theme in archaic poetry or vases.127 The Palinode testimonia and fragments do not preserve mention of  Menelaus’ name—in spite of mentioning several others, including Agamemnon, Theseus, Acamas, and Demophon. It is of interest that several sources claim that Stesichorus had Helen remain with Proteus in Egypt while the eidolon went to Troy (frr. 90. 11–15, 91h D-F; cf. P.Oxy. 2506 fr. 26 col. I; Σ Aristid. Or. 1. 16. 1). The Proteus-mention might indicate an alternate story about Proteus, perhaps also known to the Odyssey-poet (above, pp. 154–5).128 Davies and Finglass, however, discuss the possibility that the reference is mistaken. The papyrus commentator might have conflated the stories in Herodotus and the Odyssey.129 On present evidence it seems we cannot be certain as to the appearance of Proteus in the Palinode. Stesichorus’ Ilioupersis (frr. 98–164 D-F) seems to have been concerned with what happened at the fall of Troy, from Epeius’ construction of the wooden horse (fr. 100 D-F) to the events on the fatal night as represented on the Tabula Iliaca (cf. fr. 105 D-F).130 In Stesichorus the violent threat toward Helen, so far as we can tell, came not from Menelaus but from the angry Greeks who relented from stoning her at the sight of her beauty (fr. 106 D-F). According to Davies’s and Finglass’s reconstruction, Menelaus encounters Helen but rather than threatening her, listens to her words of remorse (fr. 115 D-F) and, perhaps, her longing for Hermione (fr. 113 D-F).131 If the reconstruction is correct, Stesichorus would seem to have transferred the popular story of Helen’s beauty overmastering a violent threat from Menelaus to his fellow Greeks (cf. Il. parv. fr. 19 Bernabé). The closest thing to a proper appearance by Menelaus in the extant corpus of Stesichorus is in the Nostoi, where Stesichorus seems to have modified a  source-text from the end of the Sparta-episode in the Odyssey—and diminished Menelaus’ importance (see pp. 172–3). In the Odyssey, when the omen appears just before the departure of Telemachus for Ithaca, Menelaus is the one questioned about it whereas Helen interrupts. Stesichorus’ Helen, 127  Davies and Finglass (2014) 327 compare Sophilos’ lebes gamikos (Izmir 3332, BAPD 305079; LIMC IV. 1 Hélène 61). Helen’s name is inscribed on the vase and the Dioscuri are present but the groom is not labelled. In light of the other surviving fragments from Stesichorus’ Helen the wedding seemingly described in fr. 88 D-F might also be Helen-Paris (the more popular Helen wedding image on Athenian vases); cf. Cypr. arg. 19–20. 128  Cf. Petropoulos (2012) 307–8. 129  Davies and Finglass (2014) 340. 130  Davies and Finglass (2014) 428–36; cf. Squire (2011) 88–9, 106–8. 131  Davies and Finglass (2014) 402, 436–48.

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202  Menelaus in the Archaic Period on the other hand, seems to have interpreted the omen directly, without waiting to be asked (fr. 170. 1 D-F; cf. Od. 15. 171). It seems, moreover, that Stesichorus reassigns to Helen a promise made in the Odyssey by Menelaus not to delay his visitors (Τηλέμαχ᾽, οὔ τί σ᾽ ἐγώ γε πολὺν χρόνον ἐνθάδ᾽ ἐρύξω Od. 15. 68 ~. μ̣᾽ οὐδ᾽ ἐγώ σ᾽ ἐρύ[ξ]ω̣ fr. 170. 10 D-F).132 For Stesichorus to increase Helen’s role in the episode ‘may not surprise in a poet so renowned for his relationship with Helen’.133 As to whatever else Stesichorus might have done with Menelaus, barring new papyrus readings, little more can be said.134

Conclusion What emerges most clearly about Menelaus, from the bits and pieces remaining from non-Homeric archaic poetry, is relationships, chiefly with Agamemnon and Helen but also with Nestor and his sons,135 Antenor,136 and with kinsmen and hosts on Crete.137 Menelaus is one of the chief exponents of ‘Cretan’ themes in Homer.138 Mabel Lang, noting that Idomeneus (like the Atreidae) has few ancestors in other myth-cycles, suggests that the connection of Menelaus and Idomeneus in the Iliad might preserve some memory of a Mycenaean-Cretan alliance.139 Mythologically, Cretan-Peloponnesian connections were expressed by a tradition regarding an original settlement by Tektaphos/Tektamos son of Doros (out of Thessaly). After the Return Crete was colonized a second time by Dorians, this time from the Peloponnese.140 The thematic connection of Menelaus with Crete, however it arose, was expressed genealogically on the maternal side by Aërope daughter of King Catreus (Appendix). And the connection was remembered by scholarly types much later on, when Menelaus is called ἡμικρῆτα βάρβαρον (Lyc. Alex. 150).141 Historically, Crete was important for the persistence of Mycenaean culture

132  Davies and Finglass (2014) 475–7; Kelly (2015) 39–41. 133  Kelly (2015) 40. 134  On the WYSIATI (‘What you see is all there is’) fallacy, Kelly (2015) 22 with n. 8. 135  Cyp. arg. 26–9; frr. 16–17; cf. Il. 23. 607–8; Od. 4. 204–11. 136  Cyp. arg. 5–6; cf. [Apollod.] Epit. 3. 28. 137 Cf. Cyp. arg. 14–15; Il. 3. 230–1. 138  Cf. Lang (1995) 159–61; West (2011) comments (ad loc.) that Il. 2. 650–1 might be ‘survivals from Mycenaean poetry about campaigns in Crete . . . . Line 651 looks very much like the reflex of an ancient hexameter . . . Enyalios appears as a god on a Knossos tablet and may have been a Mycenaean deity in origin’ (118). 139  Cf. Nagy (2017), an attempt to reconstruct the evolution of Minoan-Mycenaean mythology as self-consciously expressed in Homer. 140  Fowler (2013) 340–2, (2018) 49 with n. 19. 141 Cf. Σ Lyc. Alex. 149a30–150ab, 69–70 Scheer; Martin Classics@3: 12.

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Alcman, Sappho, Stesichorus, [ Hesiod ] , and the Cycle  203 after the fall of the mainland palaces as well as for being an entrepôt between Greece and the Near East.142 Menelaus harkens back to that past.143 The Cyclic fragments, scant as they are, disclose something of Menelaus’ stature independent of Agamemnon. The Cypria in particular, so far as we can reconstruct it, shows Menelaus in the events leading up to the Trojan War largely acting on his own, or the gods’, initiative. After the Sack Menelaus does not depend on Agamemnon for the recovery of Helen nor to exact revenge from the sons of Priam. His nostos evidently was an important one, even apart from more or less speculative reconstructions. The Hesiodic Catalogue emphasizes Menelaus’ success by virtue of his wealth at the great world-historical moment, not the Trojan War per se but earlier, in the wooing of Helen.144 But here his success did depend—at least in part—on Agamemnon. In what remains of Menelaus in archaic lyric, the relationships with Agamemnon and Helen matter greatly. In Alcman he is celebrated, with Helen and the Dioscuri, as the recipient of choral song at a place called Therapne. In Stesichorus, even more so than in the Odyssey, Menelaus is sidelined while Helen turns prophet (fr. 170 D-F). In the extant fragments of Sappho, Menelaus is mentioned along with his brother (fr. 17) and wife (fr. 16). But regardless of what Sappho would have us think of Helen, she represents Menelaus (if only for rhetorical purposes) as ‘best’. From not quite the best Achaean warrior in the Iliad Menelaus became ‘best husband’ of Helen and was to remain so on Athenian vases for nearly the entire sixth century.

142  Cf. Stampolidis and Kotsonas (2006); on artistic contacts, Pipili (1987) 50. West (1997) comments that Minoan elements might have entered Greek stories by way of west Asiatic settlements and songs: west Asiatic traditions might have been ‘one channel by which orientalizing elements found their way into Greek poetry. Old Cretan heroes such as Minos, Rhadamanthys, and Idomeneus may have entered Greek tradition in this way’ (612). 143  In the classical period the notion of a historical connection between Sparta and Crete is strengthened; cf. Herodotus’ report that Lycurgus brought the Spartan constitution from Crete (i. 65. 4). On the early mythography of Crete, see Fowler (2013) 385–99. 144  Clay (2005) 28–9.

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4

Menelaus in Archaic Art Introduction: Heroic Narrative in Archaic Art Menelaus appears in Greek art by the mid-seventh century bc and continues to be depicted by artists into the classical period and beyond. I shall discuss depictions of Menelaus from the first known example in the late Geometric/ early orientalizing period to the second generation of Athenian red-figure vase painters (c.675–c.480 bc).1 By the end of the first quarter of the ­seventh century bc generalized heroic scenes probably had been depicted on Greek vases for some time.2 Homeric subjects appear from at least the second quarter of the seventh century, on the evidence of some well-known masterworks such as the Polyphemus vase in Eleusis (c.670–650) and the Mykonos pithos (Mykonos Mus. 2240) depicting scenes from the fall of Troy.3 Scholars have long drawn a connection between these and other mythological subjects and their treatment in the Homeric and Cyclic epics.4 Direct influence on artists by the Iliad and the Odyssey seems, on present evidence, to have been rare.5 However, isolated instances of Homeric influence on visual narratives produced in the sixth century bc (if not earlier) do seem to have

1  The end of the period in question, roughly coinciding with the end of the Persian War, is marked by decisive changes in iconography and technique; cf. Hedreen (1996) 156–7 (Menelaus-Helen images); Ferrari (2000) (the ‘post-war’ aesthetic in Ilioupersis iconography on Athenian vases); Osborne (2018) (the transformation of images depicted on Athenian vases in response to changing mores in the late sixth and early fifth centuries [esp. 249–52]); ‘archaic’ is a ‘cultural’ label, Kotsonas (2016) 243. 2  Identification of specific heroic subjects becomes more secure after the Late Geometric II period (c.700 bc). Specific images remain contested and must be evaluated on a case-by-case basis, Hurwit (2011) 8 with bibliography at n. 32; cf. Boardman (1983); Schäfer (1983); Shapiro (1994) 4–6; Snodgrass (1998) 40–66, esp. 57–62 (the ‘synoptic’ narrative technique in vase painting); Giuliani (2013) 53–88. Hurwit (1985) used the term ‘protonarrative’ (106–24, esp. 108–15 with n. 53); more recently Hurwit (2011) has favoured the terms ‘strong’ vs ‘weak’ narrative image (esp. 14). 3  First published Ervin (1963); cf. LIMC s.v. Equus Troianus 23; Hélène 225; for further bibliography, Ebbinghaus (2005) 51 n. 2. 4  Esp. Friis-Johansen (1967); cf. Ahlberg-Cornell (1992). 5  Snodgrass (1998) ix, 140–50 (résumé of the positions taken by leading art historians of the mid- to late twentieth century); cf. Smith (2014) 40 with further bibliography at n. 49. Menelaus in the Archaic Period: Not Quite the Best of the Achaeans. Anna R. Stelow, Oxford University Press (2020). © Anna R. Stelow. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780199685929.001.0001

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Menelaus in Archaic Art  205 occurred.6 Influence on art by the named Cyclic epic poems has long been treated with scepticism, though the subjects of these poems were undeniably popular.7 Where terminology such as ‘Ilioupersis’ persists it is not taken to assume influence by a given poem.8 Archaic artists were not illustrators. ‘The choice of theme and the form which the picture took were determined by the interests of the artist and of the time in which he lived . . . [myths] developed an almost autonomous life of their own in art just as they did in poetry.’9 Still, a story remains an irreducible necessity: ‘images do not and in fact cannot tell stories.’10 Menelaus plays a fascinating, if minor, role in all of this. His name—and his alone—appears on a Protoattic vase fragment roughly contemporaneous with the Eleusis vase (Fig. 4.9).11 Menelaus also features on a small but notable number of works produced by other figural pottery workshops of the seventh century, including east Greek painters working in the Wild Goat style (Fig. 4.10); Cycladic relief potters (the Mykonos pithos, mentioned above) and relief sculptors in Laconia (Fig. 4.1a, b). No single iconographic motif or episode predominated in the earliest known depictions of Menelaus. The narrative range displayed in these early images began to narrow, however, early in the sixth century as Corinthian artists and Argive craftsmen chose with increasing frequency to depict Menelaus’ encounter with Helen after the fall of Troy. The episode is featured on Argive bronze shield-bands dedicated at Olympia (Fig. 4.2) and in relief on the monumental chest of Cypselus of Corinth.12 ‘A possible Spartan source for such works’, comments S.  Morris, ‘would give the Peloponnese a leading role in the design of

6  Cf. Shapiro (1994) 10; Mackay (2010) 380–1. For seventh-century Homeric influence on the Polyphemus vase in Eleusis, Shapiro (2010) 51; Hurwit (2011) 4–5, with n. 14. For early sixth-century Iliadic influence, Walter Burkert (2012) on the ransoming of Hector on the Corinthian ‘Raubitschek plate’ in Princeton (on the authenticity of the vase, 5 [with Amyx [1988] 634 n. 43); cf. S. Morris (2014) 13–14. 7  e.g. Wiencke (1954) 300 (‘to insist . . . upon a literal correspondence between vase painting and written epic, at least in the earlier black-figure vases, is to interpret the paintings on the lowest level of meaning’); Beazley (1957) 233–44; Cook (1983) 6. 8  For the term (‘Ilioupersis’), Anderson (1997) 11–14, 202–3 (preserving the conventional terminology without any presumption that visual images are based on poetic narrative); cf. Kahil and Icard (1988) LIMC IV. 1: 559–61. 9  Schefold (1992) 6; Small (2003) uses the notion of ‘parallel worlds’ (1–7, 22–4, 155–76). 10  Giuliani (2013) 55 with n. 8; cf. Mackay (2010) 380: ‘generally speaking, a new version of a story (as opposed to a new compositional arrangement) is unlikely to be the invention of a painter, for it is in most cases beyond the capacity of a painting or drawing to express the causal connections that are essential to narrative.’ 11  Cf. Alexandridou (2011) 77. 12  Cf. Croissant (1988).

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206  Menelaus in the Archaic Period narrative scenes from the Trojan cycle in early Greek art, prior to their lasting canonization by Athenian artists.’13 On present evidence, Athenian vase painters brought Menelaus and Helen into their repertoire by at least the second quarter of the sixth century. Menelaus and Helen were among the most popular ‘new’ heroes on Athenian vases.14 Their theme, conventionally termed the Recovery of Helen, swiftly became the most popular Trojan War image on black-figure Athenian vases and its popularity continued well into the fifth century.15 In the few surviving examples in which Menelaus appears without Helen on sixth- and early fifth-century Athenian vases, he can only be identified with certainty by name-inscription—and even these are not infallible.16 On non-Athenian vases from the same period depictions of Menelaus are few indeed, with the notable exception of his prominent appearance in the embassy scene on the unique late Corinthian ‘Astarita krater’ (Fig. 4.11) and (perhaps) struggling with Proteus on a Laconian cup in Athens (NM 13910).17 We may roughly (but accurately) divide images of Menelaus, therefore, into two categories: ‘with Helen’ and ‘everything else’. Early on, ‘everything else’—depictions of Menelaus without Helen—is in fact more frequent, so far as we can tell from the few images that remain. By the mid-sixth century, though, Menelaus is depicted with Helen almost exclusively, in two conventional variations on the Recovery theme (see the first section of this chapter, ‘Menelaus and Helen’). Menelaus-Helen images have been studied by art historians and philologists from the standpoint of Helen. Lowell Edmunds, for example, uses Recovery images to establish variants in the Helen myth.18 Scant attention has been given, however, to what the pictures ‘say’ about Menelaus.19 And even though certain iconographic details change somewhat over the course of the sixth century, there is a mostly stable and coherent depiction of Menelaus in black- and early red-figure Athenian vases that

13  S. Morris (2014) 7 with n. 15. 14  Shapiro (1990) 127–8. 15  For the terminology, Clement (1958); cf. Shapiro (1990) 127; Recke (2002) 31, 88–92. 16 Cf.  Cook (19973) 243. I therefore exclude from consideration uninscribed images at LIMC VIII. 1 s.v. Menelaos 35 (BAPD 303457), 36 (BAPD 305529), 71 (BAPD 1012555). 17  Stibbe (1972) no. 103; Pipili (1987) cat. no. 88; LIMC VI. 1 s.v. Nereus 50. Pipili tentatively proposed the identification of the central figures as Menelaus and Proteus (otherwise usually taken to be Heracles and Nereus) based on Pausanias’ report that the struggle between the pair was depicted on the throne at Amyklai (Paus. iii. 18. 16; Pipili [1987] 31–3). 18  Edmunds (2016) 103–4, 146–54. 19  Art historical: esp. Kahil (1955); Clement (1958); Recke (2002); Stansbury-O’Donnell (2009), (2014); philological: Wiencke (1954); Davies (1977); Blondell (2013) passim; Edmunds (2015) 103–61.

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Menelaus in Archaic Art  207 differs from his depiction in the classical period.20 I discuss images of Menelaus in a selection of sixth- and early fifth-century Recovery scenes to demonstrate the convention and its variations over time. The Homeric poets treat Menelaus as an important and interesting character in his own right, apart from Helen and perhaps as against the Cyclic epic tradition. At least a handful of artists in the archaic period did, as well. I provide an annotated catalogue of the known images in which Menelaus appears without Helen in the second section of this chapter, ‘Menelaus without Helen’. In the third section, ‘Naming Menelaus a Hero in Archaic Art’, I discuss the effect of name-inscriptions on visual narratives involving Menelaus; and how, without taking a position as to ‘direct’ Homeric influence, the Homeric Menelaus may or may not be perceived on the art of the time.

Menelaus and Helen The Recovery provides the most readily identifiable image of Menelaus in archaic art.21 The episode can already be recognized on the Cycladic Mykonos pithos and in sculptural relief on the Laconian ‘Magoula stele’ dated to the seventh century (below). The Recovery of Helen went on to become the most popular Ilioupersis scene on Athenian vases in the archaic ­period.22 So conventional did the image become that by the late sixth century it has been fairly said of Menelaus that on Athenian vases he was a ‘one-deed hero’.23

20  Stansbury-O’Donnell (2014) provides complete tabulation of the iconographic variations and development in the Recovery of Helen over time (c.675–425), including variations in action-type (table 1, 243), attribute (table 4), and gesture (table 5, 246); these changes are tracked against vase-shape (table 2) and find-spot (table 3, 245); with the outcome of these developments in the fifth century (table 6, 250). 21  Kahil (1955) is foundational for subsequent work on the Recovery of Helen; her study informs the typology of LIMC (Kahil and Icard [1988]); cf. Clement (1958); Davies (1977). Subsequent studies have expanded the (necessarily selective) LIMC catalogue of images of Menelaus-Helen on Athenian black- and red-figure vases. Hart (1992) catalogues ninety-five images (cf. 5–6). I follow the catalogue of Recke (2002), comprising 167 Menelaus-Helen images dated from c.680–c.400 bc (excluding forty-one putative or dubious images elsewhere catalogued), 271–80 with pll. 17–24; cf. 31 with nn. 102–3, 236–41, diagram 3.1. StansburyO’Donnell (2014) offers detailed study of the typology based on his own unpublished catalogue of 195 total scenes dated from 675–425 bc. 22  Cf. Shapiro (1990) esp. 127–8; Hart (1992) 6; Anderson (1997) 192, 202–6; Recke (2002) 31. For the period 580–480, Recke (2002) 271–5 catalogues 105 Menelaus-Helen Recovery images on Athenian vases. 23  Stansbury-O’Donnell (2014) 242.

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208  Menelaus in the Archaic Period John Boardman offers three simple criteria for ‘reading’ the subjects of heroic narrative scenes that prove useful in identifying Menelaus’ recovery of Helen. ‘The identification of most scenes depends partly on recognition of dress [1], attributes [2] and action [3].’24 The same three elements, constituting the ‘core’ or ‘nucleus’ image, have been used since antiquity, as for example by Pausanias to identify the Recovery of Helen on the chest of Cypselus of Corinth.25 Μενέλαος δὲ θώρακά τε ἐνδεδυκὼς καὶ ἔχων ξίφος ἔπεισιν Ἑλένην ἀποκτεῖναι, δῆλα ὡς ἁλισκομένης Ἰλίου. Μηδείας δὲ ἐπὶ θρόνου καθημένης Ἰάσων ἐν δεξιᾷ, τῇ δὲ Ἀφροδίτη παρέστηκε· γέγραπται δὲ καὶ ἐπίγραμμα ἐπ᾽ αὐτοῖς· ‘Μήδειαν Ἰάσων γαμέει, κέλεται δ᾽ Ἀφροδίτα’.  (Paus. v. 18. 3) Menelaus, clad in a breastplate and holding a sword, advances to kill Helen, and it is clear that Troy has been captured. Medea is seated on a throne with Jason on the right, and Aphrodite stands on her left. An inscription is added to them: ‘Jason marries Medea as Aphrodite bids.’

Pausanias can ‘read’ the first scene as an Ilioupersis (‘it is clear that Troy has been captured’) because of Helen and Menelaus, whom he recognizes by means of (1) Menelaus’ dress (breastplate); (2) attribute (sword); and (3) action (‘advancing to kill’). Mark Stansbury-O’Donnell adds inscriptions and other iconographic elements as criteria (employing the term ‘informants’, after Barthes) for the identification of heroic narrative to Boardman’s—and Pausanias’—three. The method is useful for Menelaus because he is almost always visually unremarkable according to two of the classic three criteria of recognition.26 Menelaus is usually a ‘generic’ bearded warrior lacking in distinctive dress (1) or attributes (2), from his probable first appearance on the Mykonos pithos in the seventh century to the early red-figure Athenian vases of the late sixth century.27 Pausanias’ description notwithstanding, Menelaus can be securely identified on Athenian vases not by a single action (‘advancing

24  Boardman (1991) 81–2. 25  The Cypselus chest, according to legend, was dedicated by the tyrant Cypselus of Corinth at Olympia in the temple of Hera in the late seventh century; Pausanias described it in great detail; see Snodgrass (1998) 109–16 with the reconstruction of W.  von Massow (110–11); Arafat (2009). 26  Stansbury-O’Donnell (1999) 16, 18–21. 27  For archaic body armour, Snodgrass (1963), (1967); Jarva (1995).

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Menelaus in Archaic Art  209 to kill’) but an episode, the Recovery of Helen. On black- and early red-figure Athenian vases the episode comprises a range of essentially slight variations in action, not all threatening.28 Three additional iconographic elements (‘informants’) allow viewers to identify and distinguish Menelaus in the Recovery of Helen from other warrior/captive woman scenes popular on Athenian vases.29 (1) The female figure (Helen) often draws back her veil in the gesture known as the anakalypsis or ‘veil-gesture’.30 (2) A warrior (Menelaus), carrying one or more weapons, approaches her or leads her away. (3) The two figures engage in a strong mutual gaze. The mutual gaze sets the Recovery of Helen apart from otherwise similar iconographic schemes such as the ‘warrior/captive’ nucleus of Ajax/Cassandra, where the captive woman usually has her head down and eyes averted in submission.31 In wedding iconography when a husband escorts his fiancée or bride her eyes often are lowered, a gaze that—like the averted eyes of the captive woman—is conventionally taken as a sign of submissive propriety.32 By contrast, Helen meets Menelaus’ eyes, implying a level of equality paralleled elsewhere in divine/mortal pursuits such as, for example, Eos pursuing Cephalus (e.g. Baltimore Museum of Art 48.74, BAPD 213580).33 Less distinctive of Menelaus/Helen are the anakalypsis-gesture (conventional bridal iconography) and Menelaus as warrior/escorting figure brandishing a weapon.34 Pausanias does not mention these additional informants but it  is likely that they were present and contributed to his understanding of the panel.35

28  Stansbury-O’Donnell (2014) 243–5. 29 Cf. Kaempf-Dimitriadou (1969) 41–58; Krieger (1973); Stewart (1995); Barringer (1995); Osborne (1996) 65–80; Lefkowitz (2002) 338–41; Lewis (2002) 199–205; StansburyO’Donnell (2009). 30  Kahil (1955) 118; Oakley and Sinos (1993) 25–6; Oakley (1995) 65–7; Ebbinghaus (2005) 63. Llewelyn-Jones (2003) prefers the term ‘veil-gesture’ as it is not always clear whether the veil is being lowered or raised (104). 31  Stansbury-O’Donnell (2009) 357–9. 32  Cf. Jenkins (1983); Oakley and Sinos (1993) 32; Reeder (1995) 124–5. Lefkowitz (2002) demonstrates the erotic element implicit when mortal couples are depicted with a mutual gaze that in classical vase painting is often explicitly denoted by the depiction of a winged Eros between or nearby the figures (330 with n. 32). 33  Cf. Lefkowitz (2002) 329–30. 34  Sourvinou-Inwood (1991) 69 commented that the anakalypsis in itself ‘is polysemic . . . . However, in the context of this theme, it may contribute to the nuptial allusion’; cf. Reeder (1995) 125; Stansbury-O’ Donnell (2009) 16. 35  Hedreen (2001) 32 also identified depictions of the landscape in Menelaus and Helen scenes as unique, especially in the fifth century. In contrast to the relatively stable settings for other warrior-escort scenes such as the rape of Cassandra, a variety of physical settings are employed in fifth-century images of the encounter of Menelaus and Helen.

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210  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Pausanias depends on a fourth informant, an inscription, to recognize the subsequent panel on the Cypselus chest.36 It would seem that without it the Medea-Jason panel would potentially have remained, for Pausanias, a conventional, unmarked wedding scene. [Aristotle] appears to have relied on name-inscriptions, as well.37 The additional informant would seem to ensure that the viewer (whether contemporaneous, centuries-or millennia on) could ‘read’ the narrative image.38 But Athenian vase painters of the sixth and early fifth centuries rarely needed to rely on inscriptions as informants in images of the Recovery of Helen.39 Menelaus’ character was visually defined in Athenian vase painting by it. An inscription became necessary, as we shall see below, when an artist significantly modified the basic elements of the Recovery iconography or sought to depict Menelaus apart from Helen. The basic visual core or nucleus of the Recovery of Helen, taken in sum, consists of: a warrior confronts a woman or leads her away; she unveils; they engage in a strong mutual gaze. The basic nucleus may be recognized on Athenian black-figure vases in two variations, elucidated in the foundational study of Lily Kahil (1955): the Menace-type (Menelaus encounters Helen and threatens her); and the Escort-type (Menelaus leads or ­prepares to lead Helen away with him).40 The Menace is an armed confrontation.41 Menelaus confronts Helen with drawn sword while she meets his gaze and often (though not always) draws back her veil. In the second variation 36  Cf. Smith (2014) for Pausanias’ interpretation of Achilles-Memnon iconography on the Cypselus chest (35). 37  καθάπερ τὰ τῶν ἀρχαίων γραφέων, εἰ μή τις ἐπέγραψεν, οὐκ ἐγνωρίζετο τί ἐστιν ἕκαστον [Ar.] Top. 140a21–2; chosen by Snodgrass as epigram to his (2000) study (22); cf. Small (2003) 20 with 182 n. 36. 38  Smith (2014) 35 notes Pausanias’ reliance on still another informant (the addition of one or more figures: ‘the mothers’) to the nucleus ‘Achilles-Memnon’ on the chest of Cypselus. 39 Giuliani (2013) discusses the shift from general (‘unnameable’) to specific (‘nameable’/‘named’) scenes as the transition from ‘descriptive’ to ‘narrative’ images—a historical as well as iconographic development from Geometric to Protoattic vase painting (esp. 53–7). Giuliani (2013) considers iconography of ‘Helen and Menelaus’ essentially ‘descriptive’ (non-specific), only susceptible of specific meaning by its context (esp. 64). 40  The two iconographic types were defined already by Kunze (1950) esp. 163–5, with earlier bibliography at 163 n. 5. Kahil (1955) illustrated the types according to the two Cyclic Sack poems: (I) ‘Type inspiré de la petite Iliad’ (= menace), Kahil (1955) 71–98; (II) ‘Type inspiré de l’Ilioupersis’ (= escort), Kahil (1955) 99–112, with discussion at 97–8, 118–19. For LIMC Kahil articulated the distinction instead as one of action-types, Kahil and Icard (1988) LIMC IV. 1: 558–61. For the former type (I), employing menace iconography, LIMC IV. 1 s.v. Hélène 210–26; for the latter type (II), escort iconography, LIMC IV. 1 s.v. Hélène 291–357. 41  For the conception of the two iconographic types as successive moments in a single complex episode, Kahil and Icard (1988) LIMC IV. 1: 559; cf. Moret (1975) 32 (menace iconography as a different action than escort).

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Menelaus in Archaic Art  211 (Escort), Menelaus, no longer in pursuit, leads Helen forward either by the corner of her himation or her wrist. She sometimes, though not always, performs the anakalypsis-gesture. The second image sets the couple in motion and presages their peaceable reunion. Nearly all images of Menelaus and Helen on Athenian black- and early red-figure vases divide, roughly equally, into these two iconographic types, with the latter type slightly ­predominating for much of the sixth century.42 A century or more on, late black-figure and early red-figure vases re-conceive the episode and point the way to further fifth-century developments.43 Analogous developments occur in other Trojan War iconography such as the death of Troilus.44 With this overview in place, we shall look at Menelaus in these variant types, considering what they say about his character and how it changes over time. The earliest known images of Menelaus with Helen, as noted above, are from the Cyclades and Sparta. Menelaus and Helen appear on the seventh metope of the middle frieze of the Mykonos pithos (not shown), the earliest known example of the menace-type Recovery of Helen theme.45 The image and others on the pithos illustrate non-specific ‘scenes of menace and murder’46 but the nearly certain identification of the Trojan horse on the neck of the pithos strongly suggests that the narrative should be read as the fall of Troy.47 The image in question shows a woman confronted/threatened by an armed warrior. She stands to the right in profile, garbed in an embroidered peplos and himation. The warrior advances toward her, wearing a scabbard and raising an unsheathed sword in his right hand as he seizes her wrist. She faces him, seeming to meet his gaze as she raises her veil with both hands to uncover her face and shoulder or breast in the anakalypsisgesture. The action (armed warrior threatening a woman) is a common ­narrative image found elsewhere on the pithos. It is the veil-gesture that 42  Stansbury-O’Donnell (2014) 243. 43  Hedreen (1996) discusses the red-figure development of the Menelaus-Helen nucleus, including such new informants as the dropped sword and the setting near a temple. In the fifth century, new variations follow the imperative—and narrative logic—of their own proper (visual) medium (esp. 154). I end my discussion where Hedreen begins: with two vases of Oltos (the neck-amphora in the Louvre [Louvre G3; BAPD 200435]; the kylix fragment in Odessa [Odessa Mus. 21972; BAPD 200577]) and Onesimos’ Ilioupersis vase (Villa Giulia 121110 [formerly Malibu 83. AE. 362]; BAPD 13363) (esp. 152–9). 44  Hedreen (1996) 183; cf. Recke (2002) 36, 40–1. 45  For the enumeration of the friezes, Ervin (1963). 46  Ebbinghaus (2005) 62; cf. Giuliani (2013) 69 (‘both the narrative and descriptive modes [are] at work’). 47  Cf. Giuliani (2013) 57, 61–2; the image of the horse implies a specific story (the fall of Troy) and provides a ‘clear temporal definition: it shows a constellation that precedes the final attack’ (61, emphasis in original).

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212  Menelaus in the Archaic Period facilitates the identification of the female figure as Helen.48 As for Menelaus, the drawn sword held aloft powerfully depicts his violent intention even as it invites the possible implication that he is soon to be subdued by the sight of Helen’s beauty.49 Anderson observed that the promise of reconciliation implicit in the Recovery would contrast starkly with the ‘bleak picture of carnage and enslavement painted in the surrounding panels’.50 Menelaus is defined by the image as ‘violent attacker’; it is only Helen’s gesture and the mutual gaze that provide the latent possibility of a reconciliation. A second early example of the Recovery may be recognized on an early sixth-century Laconian marble pyramidal base found near Magoula (the ‘Magoula stele’, Sparta Mus. 1; Fig. 4.1a, b).51 A pair of figures appear in the

Fig. 4.1.  Laconian limestone relief stele from Magoula, c.600 bc. Sparta Museum, 1. Ephorate of Antiquities of Lakonia—Regional Office; copyright © Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports/Archaeological Receipts Fund. 48  Of all the women captured on that fatal night only Helen ‘had previously encountered her attacker or was to be his regular wife’, Ebbinghaus (2005) 63; cf. Pipili (1987) 31; Kahil and Icard (LIMC IV. 1 s.v. Hélène 225); Anderson (1997) 187–8; Stansbury-O’Donnell (1999) 141–2; for further bibliography, Ebbinghaus (2005) 62 n. 74. 49  The drawn sword connotes ‘violent attack’ rather than simply ‘erotic pursuit’, SourvinouInwood (1991) 30–2; cf. Stansbury-O’Donnell (2009) esp. 347–51. 50  Anderson (1997) 188. 51  LIMC IV. 1 s.v. Hélène 230; from Magoula; first quarter of the sixth century bc; cf. Tod and Wace (1906) Catalogue of the Sparta Museum 132–3, n. 1; for the date, Pipili (1987) 30 (between 600 and 570); cf. Kokkorou-Alevras (2006) 89.

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Menelaus in Archaic Art  213 same garb on each of the two broader sides and therefore are probably meant to be the same.52 The two narrower sides depict snakes.53 One side (a) depicts a warrior, standing at left and wearing a helmet and short chiton, embracing a veiled woman as she holds a wreath. The presence of veil and wreath often are taken to signify that this is a wedding-scene, as they so commonly do in sixth-century Athenian vase painting.54 On the other side (b), the warrior, again at left, raises his sword to the woman as he holds her head from behind with his left hand. She in turn grasps the sword with her left hand and raises her right hand toward him. The images would seem to depict the initial wooing or marriage of Helen and Menelaus followed by their considerably more violent and troubled reconciliation.55 However, at least one key informant of the Recovery is missing (the anakalypsis-gesture).56 Nor does the presence of the wreath necessarily mean that the image on side (a) is a wedding, whether of Helen and Menelaus or another couple. However, at least two Argive-Corinthian shield bands depict somewhat similar images of a warrior and woman holding a wreath; one of these is inscribed with the names ‘Helen’ and ‘Menelaus’ in the Argive-Corinthian alphabet (Olympia B 4475, Fig. 4.2; late sixth–early fifth century).57 In his study of the Helen myth, Edmunds accepts the conventional identification of Helen and Menelaus on both sides of the Magoula stele though he interprets the wreath more as a conciliatory gesture than nuptial token.58 It need not be exclusively one or the other; in either case, if the figures are Helen and Menelaus, the wreath provides an affirmation of her (restored) status, ‘Helen, wife of Menelaus’: which is how she is named on a small bronze aryballos found at their shrine near Sparta (Fig. 5.2). We shall discuss the fascinating little votive further in its context below (pp. 276–9); here it is important to note that the inscription provides a nearly contemporaneous example—also 52  e.g. Kahil (1955) 71; Schefold (1966) 84; Pipili (1987) 31. 53  Snakes are non-specific chthonic images; in Laconian art they often are associated with the Dioscuri; cf. Kokkorou-Alevras (2006) 89–90. 54  Reeder (1995) 127. 55  The depiction of Menelaus and Helen in Laconian vase painting is rare; see Pipili (1987) 83. 56  Cf. Pipili (1987) 31; cf. Kahil and Icard (1988) 539. 57  LIMC IV. 1 s.v. Hélène 69 (a); Kunze (1961–2) 120 pl. 137c; Marinatos (2002) fig. 3b. The interpretation of Menelaus-Helen on Olympia B 4475 led scholars to make the same identification on Olympia B 1897, which is uninscribed but employs similar iconography (69(b)). See discussion of Kunze (1950) 165–7; Schefold (1966) pl. 57b; Bol (1989) 74–6; Marinatos (2002) fig. 1. 58  Edmunds (2016) 112–13 with 115 fig. 3; compare the addition of a wreath to an otherwise conventional Recovery painting (Philadelphia, KH Hesperia), Recke (2002) no. 51, pl. 18a; cf. Schefold (1966) 84–5; Kahil and Icard (1988) LIMC IV. 1: 556.

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214  Menelaus in the Archaic Period

Fig. 4.2.  Argive bronze shield-band relief, early fifth century bc. Inscribed Menelaus/Helen. Archaeological Museum of Olympia B 4475. Ephorate of Antiquities of Elis—Regional Office; copyright © Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports/Archaeological Receipts Fund.

from a Spartan cultic context—for the conception of Helen not only as ‘wife’, but specifically as ‘Menelaus’ wife’.59 Other surviving examples of the Recovery on archaic relief sculpture indicate the popularity of the theme. Each element of the Recovery is repeated on the chest of Cypselus of Corinth 59  Pipili (1992) 179–84 suggested that the warrior figure on a fragmentary ivory relief-plaque from the sanctuary of Artemis Orthia is Menelaus (Athens NM 15363). The stance of the warrior, sword raised at the height of his helmet, is like that on the shield-band reliefs from Olympia. Only the foot of the other figure remains, however, precluding certain identification of the missing figure as Helen and the action as escort.

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Menelaus in Archaic Art  215 as described by Pausanias.60 The couple appears on bronze shield-bands dedicated at Olympia (cf. Fig. 4.2) and, after the end of the archaic period, on the Ilioupersis-frieze of the Parthenon mentioned above.61 The Recovery of Helen seems to have reached the height of its popularity on Athenian vases around the third quarter of the sixth century, after which it declined in popularity consistent with contemporaneous art-historical trends in Trojan War iconography.62 Ajax-Cassandra images, for example, also undergo a decline in the early years of the red-figure technique.63 The earliest probable depiction of the menace on black-figure Athenian vases appears on a lekanis lid-fragment by the C Painter (Athens Acrop. Mus. 2116, BAPD 300498), paired with the Judgement of Paris.64 Lydos, in the vanguard of the innovators introducing new heroes to Athenian vases in the years around and after 560, paired it with Ilioupersis iconography.65 On a well-known amphora in Berlin, for example, the Recovery of Helen appears directly to the left of Neoptolemus’ murder of Priam and Astyanax (Berlin Staat. Mus. F 1685, BAPD 310170; Fig. 4.3).66 Helen’s left arm intrudes into the space of the Neoptolemus scene.67 Whereas violence and reconciliation were juxtaposed on the succession of panels on the Cypselus chest and the Mykonos pithos, Lydos brings the two into the same pictorial space.68 60  Paus. v. 18. 3; cf. LIMC IV. 1 s.v. Hélène 226; Carter (1988). Menelaus previously was thought to appear on the Siphnian treasury on the strength of a misreading of fragments of a surviving name-label. It is possible that he appeared on the (now-fragmentary) reliefs from the temple at Selinous (Palermo 3905, 3707); cf. LIMC IV. 1 s.v. Hélène 231. 61  Ferrari (2000) 120–1. 62  Recke (2002) diagrams 3. 1, 3. 2. Recke suggests that in the waning of the black-figure technique, the iconographic possibilities of the Recovery were felt to have been exhausted. It took a while for the story, freshly re-imagined in the new red-figure technique, to return to popularity towards the end of the first quartile of the fifth century (34–7), cf. diagram 3. 2; cf. Stansbury-O’Donnell (2014) 247–8. 63  Recke (2002) diagram 2. 2. 64  Hart (1992) 293 no. 2. 65  Ebbinghaus (2005) 63. 66  Cf. the death of Priam with Astyanax on a lekanis fragment in Naples (BAPD 300496); Hart (1992) 82–3, 293 no. 1. Corinthian interest in mythological narrative in the seventh century is evidenced across several media including the Cypselus chest and shield-band reliefs; mythological narrative is taken over from Corinthian painting by Athenian black-figure painters (e.g. Shapiro [1990] 139–40). Burkert (2012) considers the possibility of Homeric influence on two paintings, one Corinthian and one Athenian. Cf. Ziskowski (2014) on the change in the interpretation of myth over time by Corinthian vase painters. 67  Cf. Stansbury-O’Donnell (1999) 166. A causal relationship links the images of Menelaus and Helen, the death of Priam, and the death of Troilus on the obverse of the vase (‘Achilles kidnaps Troilus long before his son kills Priam and Astynanax or Menelaus recovers Helen’). The continuous narration implied by the juxtaposition of Menelaus-Helen and the death of Priam would be ‘a landmark in its use of repetition’, Steiner (2007) 110; cf. Hedreen (2001) 157; Ebbinghaus (2005) 62. 68  Cf. Shapiro (1990) 138–9.

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216  Menelaus in the Archaic Period

Fig. 4.3.  Athenian black-figure amphora, c.550 bc. Lydos. Berlin Antikensammlung F1685, BAPD 310170. bpk Bildagentur/Berlin Antikensammlung/Johannes Laurentius/Art Resource, NY.

Menelaus is garbed as a conventional warrior, distinguishable from Neoptolemus by their very different actions and informants. Here the ­m enace is almost peaceful when compared with the violence of the central action. Menelaus has tipped the sword back, over his shoulder, away from Helen. On the Mykonos pithos, by contrast, Menelaus brandishes his sword:

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Menelaus in Archaic Art  217 it is pointed almost directly out in front of him, slightly tipped toward Helen.69 The more-threatening sword position occurs frequently on blackfigure Athenian vases—as, for example, on an Athenian black-figure eye-cup in private collection (Hahne coll.; BAPD 5027). By increasing the angle of the sword and slightly changing the position of the woman’s arm, the potential violence of the encounter is increased. The Escort, representing a second variant on the Recovery nucleus, begins to appear on Athenian vases in roughly the same period as the ­m enace.70 The threat of violence is greatly lessened by a modification of the action: Menelaus leads Helen forward as he grasps her by the wrist, veil, or cloak in the cheir’ epi karpo gesture typical of bridal iconography.71 The Escort might be interpreted as a later moment in the action, though in many instances there is a change in attribute in Escort iconography: Menelaus usually carries one or more spears instead of the brandished sword. The Escort remains popular through the end of the century; on a  late sixth-century amphora in New York attributed to the Antimenes Painter, for example, Menelaus stands to the right, holding a pair of spears and a shield. He turns back and grasps Helen’s himation as she unveils (New York MMA 69. 233.1; BAPD 320086; Fig. 4.4).72 The Amasis Painter depicted the Escort, with Menelaus and Helen in motion, at least twice.73 The earlier of the two images appears on a B amphora in Munich dated to the mid-sixth century with the scene framed by two nude ephebes carrying spears (Munich Antikensamm. J75; BAPD 310434).74 It was once thought to  represent the escort of Aethra by Acamas and Demophon, with which the Recovery of Helen can be confused; but the canonical informants of the Recovery of Helen are present.75 The warrior brandishes a weapon while leading a woman forward; she performs the anakalypsis and engages him in

69  Cf. Anderson (1997) 202–3; other examples catalogued at LIMC IV. 1 s.v. Hélène 210–24. 70  Cf. a fragmentary neck-amphora dated the second quarter of the sixth century in private collection (Switzerland), Hart (1992) 91–2 and 296 no. 9 (BAPD 10163). 71  On the cheir’ epi karpo gesture, cf. Haspels’s still-useful (1930) article: the gesture most often occurs in one of two types of nucleus: warrior escorts and ‘conduct of the fiancée’ scenes; cf. Jenkins (1983), arguing that the gesture first appears only in abduction iconography on black-figure Athenian vases; only later does it denote ‘conduct of the fiancée’ (140); cf. Anderson (1997) 203. Boegehold (1999) 17–18 with fig. 2 interprets the gesture as polysemous. 72 Cf. LIMC IV. 1 s.v. Hélène 315; Recke (2002) no. 47. 73  Cf. Schefold (1992) 288–9. 74 Cf. LIMC IV. 1 s.v. Hélène 157; Recke (2002) no. 10, pl. 17(B). 75  Cf. Hart (1992) 379–81.

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218  Menelaus in the Archaic Period

Fig. 4.4.  Athenian black-figure amphora, c.520 bc. Antimenes P. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York 69.233.1, BAPD 320086. © The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Image source: Art Resource, NY.

a strong mutual gaze.76 Most scholars, accordingly, have agreed that it ­represents Helen and Menelaus.77 The Amasis Painter painted the Escort again about a decade later on the frequently illustrated ex-Riehen B amphora now in private collection in Great Britain (BAPD 350470). Nude ephebes are again in attendance but in motion, spears aloft and pointed in toward the focal point, the mutual gaze of Menelaus and Helen. The more dynamic version is paired with a duel scene on the reverse (Cat. no. 8 [not pictured]).78 We shall return to the duel 76 Sourvinou-Inwood (1991) construes the mutual gaze as indicative of consent but maintains that violence is the uppermost theme in pursuit scenes on Athenian vases (69); cf. Stansbury-O’Donnell (2009) 355–7 tables 1, 2 (classifying the gaze as an action-type). 77  e.g. Kahil (1955) 50 no. 6; von Bothmer (1985) 102–4, no. 14; Kahil and Icard (1988) 528–9. 78  Great Britain, private collection (formerly Reihen, coll. Hoek); LIMC IV. 1 s.v. Hélène 158; von Bothmer (1985) 48. Kahil and Icard accept the identification of Menelaus in part due to his garb (a male escort dressed as a warrior usually suggests Menelaus rather than Paris, s.v.).

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Menelaus in Archaic Art  219 when considering Menelaus without Helen; here it is important to note that  the left-hand warrior in the duel, the victor (according to Athenian iconographical convention) wears the same distinctive panther-head epaulets as ‘Menelaus’ in the Recovery scene on the obverse. It is reasonable to conclude therefore, as most do, that the duel represents Menelaus against Paris.79 The repetition of the attribute on an otherwise generic warrior, featured on the obverse with Helen in the typical Recovery scene, facilitates the recognition.80 On a Siana cup in Athens (Athens NM 20813; BAPD 9530; Fig. 4.5a, b), two slightly different Recovery images are featured on opposing sides of the

Fig. 4.5.  Athenian black-figure Siana cup, c.560–550 bc. Lydos. National Archaeological Museum, Athens 20813, BAPD 9530. Photographers: Dimitris Gialouris and Constantine Constantinopoulos. Copyright © Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports/Archaeological Receipts Fund. 79  von Bothmer (1960) 75–6 with pl. 10, 1–2; cf. Kahil and Icard (1988) 558; Schefold (1992) 237. 80  It might be considered a ‘cyclic narrative’ about Menelaus: he appears in both fields in two separate temporal moments, the duel with Paris and the recovery of Helen; for the criteria, Steiner (2007) 95.

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220  Menelaus in the Archaic Period vessel. The pairing of Recovery images becomes relatively common in the course of the sixth century on diverse vase-shapes including a pyxis in Athens;81 a cup from Tarentum;82 and an amphora in Florence.83 The trend suggests that black-figure painters were able to rely on viewers’ easy recognition of the narrative.84 The iconography could even be duplicated within the same panel, adding an attendant warrior confronting a woman to one side of Menelaus. ‘This possibility of duplication is telling because it only makes sense in the case of a pictorial formula that is not tied to a unique mythological event but rather presents a general, potentially recurrent, standard constellation. What we have here is an essentially descriptive pictorial schema relating to the armed abduction of women . . . . If the warrior and the woman are to be related to a narrative theme, then there is only one possibility: the scene must be depicting the re-encounter between Helen and Menelaos.’85 Menelaus was iconographically defined on black-figure Athenian vases, therefore, as ‘warrior-husband’. The weapon of choice, as noted above, changes from a brandished sword to one or more spears, consistent with broader art-historical trends. On the late sixth-century black-figure amphora in New York attributed to the Antimenes Painter mentioned above, for example, the warrior—Menelaus—holds a massive shield in his left hand and a pair of spears in his right (Fig. 4.4). A sheathed sword is visible on his right side. An attendant warrior advances to the left behind Helen, with drawn sword pointed tip downwards, and turns back to face the pair. For a viewer familiar with the iconography and the story, the second warrior is like an echo of Menelaus’ former self, sword withdrawn and retreating backward once the first ‘moment’ of violent recognition (menace) has passed.86 The element of threat is substantially diminished but the core story remains identifiable not by the figures in themselves but in the anakalypsis-gesture and the

81  Athens, priv. coll.; LIMC IV. 1 s.v. Hélène 334; Recke (2002) nos. 25–6. 82  Brommer (1973) 411 A 12; Recke (2002) nos. 58–9. 83  Florence 3777; LIMC IV. 1 s.v. Hélène 159; Recke (2002) nos. 34–5. 84  ‘The confrontation/Recovery formulation of the Menelaus-Helen narrative had lost much of its interest as an export theme by the end of the sixth century and was virtually complete by 475’, Stansbury-O’Donnell (2014) 248. 85  Giuliani (2013) 177. 86 The depiction of Menelaus with spear(s) is consistent with a general increase in the depiction of spears rather than swords in black-figure Athenian vase painting. Cf. van Wees (1998) 347–58 (one of several iconographic changes that have been attributed to a broader trend in archaic culture devaluing the carrying of arms by the leisure class in late archaic society).

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Menelaus in Archaic Art  221 mutual gaze.87 Mass-produced but still-charming images of this type abound on late black-figure vases, frequently unidentified.88 Something rather new seems to occur in two early paintings by Oltos from the last quarter of the sixth century. Oltos combined menace and escort iconography into a single image (Odessa Mus. o 577; BAPD 200577 [not pictured]).89 The iconography retains certain canonical elements of the menace, including unsheathed sword and strong mutual gaze. As in the escort, the spouses are in motion with Menelaus in the lead. Certain details of the conventional schema have been modified or changed. Menelaus grasps Helen’s wrist rather than her himation, as in conventional ‘Recovery’ ­iconography; his helmet is pulled up and her veil has already been drawn back. The drawing back of Menelaus’ helmet matches the unveiling of his wife, and in spite of the drawn sword the reconciliation would seem already to have occurred. It is a fresh conception of the theme and of the characters. Oltos produced a different revision of the conventional iconography, with a sharply contrasting tone, on Nikosthenic amphora in the Louvre (Paris, Louvre G3; BAPD 200435; Fig. 4.6).90 Menelaus stands at left with an unsheathed sword in his right hand, grasping Helen by the wrist as she turns toward him with right hand outstretched; both figures are in motion and the names are again inscribed. Oltos does more here than combine the several iconographic elements of the successive ‘moments’ of Recovery. He shifts the narrative. The level of threat typical of menace scenes is combined with a new type of motion: Helen is attempting—unsuccessfully—to flee. The heightening of the sense of pursuit on the vase is consistent with broader iconographic trends: pursuit scenes were generally popular in the early years of the fifth century.91 In the classical period, moreover, the ‘pursuit’ action frequently occurs in Helen-Menelaus iconography on red-figure Athenian vases (e.g. BM E161; BAPD 202723 [not pictured]).92 On Oltos’ 87  As the spear increasingly becomes Menelaus’ attribute of choice on Athenian vases the cheir’ epi karpo gesture takes on added erotic force, so that Menelaus’ Recovery of Helen can become difficult at times to distinguish from illustrations of Paris’ escort of Helen from Sparta. Paris’ escort of Helen from Sparta has only been securely identified on vases dating from the early fifth century or beyond; cf. Boston MFA 13. 186 (BAPD 204681); Berlin Antiken. Mus. F 2291 (BAPD 204685); episodes involving Paris typically involve other elements of the ‘escort of a fiancée’ iconography as well, Kahil and Icard (1988) 558. 88  Cf. Naplion Mus. 6, attributed to the workshop of Athens 581. 89  LIMC IV. 1 s.v. Hélène 310; cf. Bruhn (1953) 22 with pl. 3, 1. As the sixth century draws to a close, Helen often is portrayed in escort scenes lifting back her himation as she also does in menace scenes. 90  LIMC IV. 1 s.v. Hélène 237; c.520 bc. 91  Oakley (1995) 65. 92  Cf. Hedreen (1996).

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Fig. 4.6.  Athenian red-figure Nikosthenic amphora, c.520 bc. Oltos. Musée du Louvre, Paris, France G3, BAPD 200435. Photo: Herve Lewandowski. © RNM-Grand Palais/Art Resource, NY.

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Menelaus in Archaic Art  223 Nikosthenic amphora, Menelaus—with helmet lowered and sword levelled squarely at Helen—is more ‘attacker’ than ‘escort’; and in spite of the mutual gaze, Helen is more ‘suppliant victim’ than wife.93 Oltos’ rendering of Helen and Menelaus here contrasts markedly with the fragmentary image in Odessa discussed above: the former, pacified; the latter, violent. Oltos added name-labels to both; they serve as a definitive informant when so much else is new.94 An inscribed red-figure Athenian lekythos attributed to the Brygos Painter displays an unconventional depiction of Menelaus without a beard.95 The warrior is dressed in a helmet and himation, holding a spear and leading a woman by the wrist (Berlin F2205, BAPD 204102; Fig. 4.7).96 Paris is far more commonly depicted without a beard; we moderns only interpret the figure as Menelaus because the inscription (MENELEOS, the Attic dialectal form of the name) ‘tells’ us to.97 The mutual gaze and the presence of a helmet support the reading of the image as Menelaus-Helen, even apart from the name-label, and these informants indicate that Recovery iconography continues to exert its influence.98 By comparison, an uninscribed vase painting attributed to the Tyskiewicz-Painter also has been identified as the wedding of Helen and Menelaus (Munich Antik. Mus. 2425 [J 283]; 93  Equally pioneering, if not more so, is Oltos’ innovation in the figures’ dress: Helen is not only unveiled—as on the Odessa cup—she lacks a veil altogether. Oltos thus definitively abandons the bridal iconography implicit in the conventional black-figure Recovery narrative; cf. Hedreen (1996) 156; Recke (2002) 37. A different innovation is evident on a fragmentary early red-figure cup attributed to the Elpinikos Painter in Boston (13. 190, BAPD 201000): the near-absence of the mutual gaze (Menelaus’ helmet is pulled up and his eyes are turned down, almost—though not fully—meeting Helen’s gaze); Recke (2002) no. 92 with pl. 21b. 94  An intermediary image of Menelaus likewise appears on an Argive-Corinthian shieldband dated to the early fifth century (Olymp. Mus. B1883). Helen is unveiled and Menelaus’ helmet is drawn down, as in the Louvre amphora; but he brandishes a sword and moves her forward, as on the cup fragment in Odessa. 95  LIMC IV. 1 s.v. Hélène 62. 96  As the archaic period draws to a close, warriors are increasingly depicted as young men engaged in athletic rather than martial scenes, a change in iconography that, like the change from spear to sword, might mark a change in political idealogy in Athens: ‘L’idéologie que animait les répresentations du 6e siècle était franchement aristocratique . . . . Entre les 6e et 5e siècles le héros traditionnel de l’art fut effectivement abandonné’, Bažant (1987) 38, cf. 34. 97  The depiction of Menelaus and other Homeric heroes as beardless becomes more common in the fifth century (e.g. LIMC IV. 1 s.v. Hélène 238); on the de-barbification of Achilles on late black- and red-figure Athenian vases, Neils (2009) 214 with fig. 4. 98 Bol (1989) 74–5: ‘Der hochzeitliche Gestus der Frau verbindet sich hier mit einem Bildtypus, der auf Schildbändern bis in das ausgehende 7. Jahrhundert zurückgeht’; cf. Kunze (1950) 165–6. By contrast, on the red-figure Louvre Ilioupersis cup of the Brygos Painter (Louvre G 152, BAPD 203900), c.470 bc, a warrior escorting a woman is depicted in iconography reminiscent of Menelaus and Helen but the identification of Polyxena and Akamas is assured by inscriptions; cf. Anderson (1997) 229–30.

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224  Menelaus in the Archaic Period

Fig. 4.7.  Athenian red-figure lekythos, early fifth century bc. Brygos P. Berlin Antikensammlung F2205, BAPD 204102. bpk Bildagentur/Berlin Antikensammlung/Jürgen Liepe/Art Resource, NY.

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Menelaus in Archaic Art  225 BAPD 203039).99 A bearded warrior grasps the wrist of an unveiled woman wearing a wreath and holding a quince or a pomegranate; the couple’s eyes are cast down toward their intertwined hands.100 The novel informants and especially the absence of the mutual gaze result in the possibility that the male protagonist is to be ‘read’ as Paris in spite of his garb as a warrior and the presence of the beard. Without name-labels the figures cannot be identified with certainty.101 The Recovery of Helen, with its overt violence and latent eros, was a popular image on Athenian vases of the sixth and early fifth centuries. Like other Ilioupersis images such as the rape of Cassandra by Ajax and the slaughter of Astyanax and Priam,102 the Recovery seems to have held panHellenic appeal.103 Menelaus is unremarkably dressed as a generic warrior in nearly all of the surviving examples of the theme. The sword comes to be replaced by spear(s) as the black-figure technique peaks and then wanes late in the sixth century; the change in weapon from sword to spear results in a decrease in the violent tone of the Recovery while the potentially erotic element is slightly heightened. Late in the period the iconography does not bifurcate in the same way it had done, on black-figure vases, into successive ‘moments’. Athenian vase painters of the latest years of the archaic period seem to depict the pair according to the two potential poles of their relationship: one, a violent recovery/pursuit (connoted by the re-emergence of the sword); the other, openly erotic (wedding).104 The new bifurcation

99  The presence of fruit in Helen’s hand might change the theme-type from violent pursuit to ‘amorous encounter’; cf. Oakley (1995) 64 with fig. 5; Reeder (1995) 127–8. 100  LIMC IV. 1 s.v. Hélène 62–5; cf. another ‘composite’ scene on a neck-amphora dated a little after the close of our period by the Berlin Painter (Vienna 741, BAPD 201909; c.470 bc). On this vase Helen is unmistakably depicted as a bride (she wears a veil and stephane). Oakley (1995) 65–6 commented that the bridal iconography is ‘a clear allusion to the fact that they will once again live together happily married. This is already implied by the sword, which falls from Menelaos’ hand.’ 101  LIMC IV. 1 s.v. Hélène 64; from Vulci; c.480; Recke (2002) no. 117. Cf. the young, unbearded figure holding a single spear facing a woman, on a mid-sixth-century amphora attributed to the Taleides Painter (BAPD 350507; San Antonio [TX] Art Museum: 86.119.1); Schefold (1992) interprets the image as Menelaus-Helen on the strength of the woman’s unveiling and mutual gaze (208, fig. 254). Other (uninscribed) nuptial images perhaps representing Menelaus include LIMC IV. 1 s.v. Hélène 61 (BAPD 305079); cf. Hélène 63–8, 69(b). 102  Anderson (1997) 208–9, 234–45. 103  On the Etruscan market and its effect (or lack thereof) on late black- and early red-figure Athenian pottery, Spivey (1991) 131–50; Marconi (2004); Osborne (2004b), (2018) 42–8; cf. Malkin (2002) 161–2. 104  Cf. the contemporaneous trend toward the ‘pathetic’ in Trojan War iconography and the polarizing of Greek and Trojan; Muth (2008) 109–10.

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226  Menelaus in the Archaic Period supplants the implicit or ‘mixed’ eroticism of the late sixth- or early ­fifth-century escort scenes. A decisive change in Recovery iconography occurs on the fragmentary ex-Getty Ilioupersis masterpiece of Onesimos dated very close to the end of our period (Villa Giulia 121110, BAPD 13363; Fig. 4.8).105 Menelaus, garbed as a warrior, is still engaged by Helen in a mutual gaze. A new action is added to the conventional nucleus, however, that results in a new narrative altogether. The unsheathed sword of the menace and pursuit scenes slips from his grasp and falls to the ground. Though the vase on which it occurs is named by the Cyclic Ilioupersis, Onesimos’ ‘dropped sword’ image corresponds to a story which ancient sources tell us was narrated in the Little Iliad and Ibycus (Il. parv. fr. 19 Bernabé ap. Σ Ar. Lys. 155; cf. Σ Andr. 629; p. 190, above).106

Fig. 4.8.  Athenian red-figure cup, c.500–490 bc. Onesimos. Villa Giulia 121110 (formerly Malibu 83. AE. 362), BAPD 13363. © MiBAC. Museo Nazionale Etrusco di Villa Giulia. Photo: Benito Fioravanti.

105  Williams (1991) 55 fig. 8j, 56, 61; Recke (2002) no. 101 with pl. 22b; Cohen (2014) 24–5; Shapiro (2015) 232–3. 106  Cf. Wilkinson (2013) 266; Davies and Finglass (2014) 436–8 ad Stesich. fr. 106 D-F.

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Menelaus in Archaic Art  227 Given its probable date in the 490s, poetic inspiration for the iconographic innovation is not an impossibility.107 On Onesimos’ vase ‘Eros’, no longer latent or implied, hovers overhead, and is named.108 The new image of Menelaus for the ‘post-war’ fifth century swiftly became conventional. In the classical period the erotic element wins out.109 At the sight of Helen Menelaus routinely lets the sword slip from his grasp (e.g. London E263; BAPD 206878 [not pictured]). Along with the red-figure vases the image insinuated itself into the tragedy and comedy of classical Athens.110 ‘It is surely no accident [on the Onesimos cup] that the falling sword points to a spot where, in the inner tondo, another sword is lying in front of the altar of Zeus on which Priam is being slain . . . . Priam is murdered, Kassandra is raped, and only Helen is saved.’111

Menelaus without Helen Menelaus’ conventional visual identity depended on Helen (the Recovery nucleus) on black- and early red-figure Athenian vases. He is depicted without Helen in a small but rather special series of images dated to the archaic period including a procession, an embassy to Troy, an arming scene, and several duels. Menelaus ‘solo’ was not, it seems, strongly associated with any single episode. The heterogeneous group continues to elicit scholarly debate not because the images are typical or representative of their context but quite the opposite—because they are so unique. Part of the puzzle presented by the images is the presence, insisted on by painted labels, of our hero: ‘why 107  Cf. Shapiro (2015), discussing the images on the Onesimos vase as analogous to literary narratives articulating Greek self-identity in light of early fifth-century Athenian history (225–34). 108  Eros becomes a common informant in Recovery scenes on later red-figure vases; Hamma (1983) 123–8; Stansbury-O’Donnell (2014) 249–50. 109  The Makron skyphos in Boston (Boston 13. 186, BAPD 204681), dated a little after the end of our period, forms a useful comparison for the extent of subsequent changes in the theme. The image remains recognizable as Menelaus’ Recovery of Helen because it contains the core action and attributes: a warrior (Menelaus) draws his sword from its sheath and, most important, engages in a strong mutual gaze with the loosely clad, unveiled woman. In contrast to Oltos’ ‘spotlight’ images, however, Makron crowds the visual space with attendant figures; and not only one or two warriors or other male figures, as on black-figure Recovery vases of the sixth century, but a throng of women in loose drapery in such profusion so as, in the absence of inscriptions, almost to prevent our identifying the vase altogether. See Recke (2002) no. 100 with pl. 22a, cf. 38 with n. 137; LIMC IV. 1 s.v. Hélène 243; cf. Hart (1992) 368 no. 213. 110  Cf. Hedreen (1996) 156–7; Recke (2002) 37. 111  Giuliani (2013) 180.

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228  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Menelaus’? His presence is secured, or seems to be, by name-inscription; though even these are not infallible (cf. Fig. 4.13).112 For the period 675 to 480 bc images of Menelaus without Helen, though rare, are fairly evenly distributed on Athenian and non-Athenian vases and other media. I provide an annotated catalogue of ten certain or nearly certain images. Several of these unique images are often discussed in light of seeming correspondences with the Homeric and Cyclic epic poems. My own consideration of the images builds on the Homeric and Cyclic depictions of Menelaus elucidated above. The question of interest to me is not whether Homer ‘inspired’ the images or not; but whether we can perceive Homer’s Menelaus in the art that was produced. My ‘readings’ of the images do not assume Homeric influence; on the contrary, in most instances direct influence by Homer is unlikely. Yet several inscribed depictions of Menelaus, when regarded in tandem with his character and exploits in the Iliad, may contribute to a fuller vision of the archaic hero.

Annotated Catalogue Cat. no. 1. Protoattic black-figure dinos-stand (Berlin A42; BAPD 1001741, LIMC s.v. Menelaus 4) Mid-seventh century The earliest extant image of Menelaus without Helen appears on a Protoattic dinos-stand fragment found on Aigina known as the ‘Menelas stand’ (Fig. 4.9).113 The vase appears to be of Athenian manufacture; dinos-stands such as this seem to have been rather a local specialty.114 The image presents a procession of five bearded men marching to the right. Hair bound in taeniae, the men are dressed in long chitons and embroided himatia, holding spears in their right hands. The third man (who occupies the central place within the procession) is identified as Menelaus by an inscription painted to the left of the figure, Μενέλᾱς. Vase painters (or their patrons) resident on the island 112 On name-labels Mommsen (1998); Lissarrague (2001); Osborne and Pappas (2007); Immerwahr (2010); Pevnick (2010); Mayor, Colarusso, and Saunders (2014). 113  Beazley (1951) 94. 114  A similar procession, uninscribed, was depicted on another now-lost dinos-stand fragment once in Berlin (formerly Berlin A41; BAPD 1001740); cf. Kraiker (1951) 86 nos. 555ff., pl. 43; S. Morris (1984b) no. 10, pl. 8; Giuliani (2013) 97, 284 n. 31; and cf. Berlin A40, BAPD 1001739.

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Menelaus in Archaic Art  229

Fig. 4.9.  Protoattic dinos-stand, c.650 bc. Cat. no. 1. Berlin Antikensammlung A42, BAPD 1001741. bpk Bildagentur/Berlin Antikensammlung/Photo pre-1938/ Art Resource, NY.

might have picked up the Corinthian penchant for writing on vases.115 The dialect is Doric (showing the Doric long alpha), an anomaly on an Attic vase but readily explained if the stand were produced on—or for residents of—Doric-speaking Aigina.116 Immerwahr comments that the alphabet of the painted inscription is ‘rather irregular’ and that it ‘is not Attic either epigraphically or linguistically’.117 It employs Ionic lambda but the four-stroke sigma is exampled elsewhere on early Attic graffiti.118 None of the other figures is labelled.

115  Writing on vases was employed earliest and most enthusiastically by Corinthian artists for whom it served an aesthetic function as a filling ornament, as well as narrative function, cf. Osborne and Pappas (2007) 141–53; cf. the different sorts of inscriptions on Boeotian vases (137). Papadopoulos (2009) esp. 235 discusses inscriptional evidence for foreign potters— particularly Corinthian—in the Kerameikos; cf. Dev.2 12. 116  Wachter (2001) 34–5 [COR 1]. A roughly contemporaneous middle–late Protocorinthian pyxis also from Aegina known as the ‘Telestrophos’ pyxis (Aigina Mus. K 267) is inscribed with what seem perhaps to be heroic names (‘Thoas’; ‘Strophod-’); cf. Osborne and Pappas (2007) 144. 117  Immerwahr (1990) 10. 118  LSAG2 112 no. 2; cf. Immerwahr (1990) 9 (no. 10).

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230  Menelaus in the Archaic Period The vase could have been produced on the mainland and imported or produced locally in an Athenian workshop on Aigina, its find-spot.119 The painter has been identified with the eponymous artist of the Polyphemus vase found in Attica (Eleusis Mus.).120 The image displays a series of nearly identical human figures in frieze-like regularity that corresponds to the decorative habit of figural decoration on Geometric vases. ‘The figural scenes in Athenian geometric painting . . . constitute themselves as bands of decoration. . . . Most figural scenes demand that the eye scan them,’ comment Osborne and Pappas, though the direction of scansion (right-to-left or left-toright) is indifferent.121 The procession of figures on the Menelas stand, indeed, echoes in its regularity and balance the narrow horse and rider frieze on the band above.122 While the size of the figures (among other aspects of the composition) unmistakably sets the Protoattic image apart from Geometric antecedents, the overall effect of figural continuity persists, broken visually only by slight variations in the placement and size of the background flora and the painted inscription. The procession in itself remains essentially ‘unidentifiable’, Ahlberg-Cornell comments, and the name-inscription here might play little more than a decorative function ‘to associate the procession in a general way with the epic world’.123 This is not to say, however, that the Menelas stand does not present, in Hurwit’s terminology, a ‘strong’ image: it is exceptional in concrete details such as the figures’ dress; and it is open to mythological interpretation, even though not demanding it.124 The image ‘invites’ but does not ‘demand’ a story, unlike the dramatic battlefield scene, for example, on a considerably earlier skyphos in Eleusis (Eleusis Mus. 741).125 Luca Giuliani remarks that ‘the compatibility of an image with a story is a necessary but certainly not a sufficient condition for identifying it as a narrative representation’. If the image does not demand a specific story—though it may be compatible with one—the iconography we

119  It was part of the large deposit of early Athenian pottery found on Aigina; Jeffery (1949) proposed that the stand was produced in Aigina on the basis of its letter-forms and dialect (26 with fig. 2); cf. S. Morris (1984b) 5–6, 41–3, 92. The notion of an Athenian workshop on Aegina is not unproblematic; see Giuliani (2013) 284 n. 30 with further bibliography. 120  Snodgrass (1998) 102, cf. 90 fig. 35. 121 Osborne and Pappas (2007) 137; cf. Giuliani (2013) 132–9 on how the interaction between images provides a temporal dimension of the story and the relationships among its protagonists. 122  Cf. Osborne and Pappas (2007) 137–8: ‘Figural scenes can come close to continuous, as in the bands of identical birds or grazing deer, or in mourning figures tearing out their hair.’ 123  Ahlberg-Cornell (1992) 177; cf. Simon (1976) 21–2. 124  See Hurwit (2011) 14. 125  Giuliani (2013) 45.

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Menelaus in Archaic Art  231 are dealing with may be considered ‘descriptive and not a narrative’.126 The procession of male figures on the Menelas stand is like this: we have a descriptive but not necessarily narrative image. The inscription (ΜΕΝΕΛΑΣ) placed to the left of the shoulder of the central figure and visually marking him out of the crowd invites the modern viewer to seek for a story.127 Many scholars suppose it to be the embassy to Antenor prior to the war, in view of the popularity of the theme in the archaic period, also appearing on the Corinthian ‘Astarita krater’ below (Cat. no. 3, Fig. 4.11).128 Others have interpreted the image as the mustering of the Achaean leaders before departing for Troy, ‘[t]he proud bearing and magnificent costumes of the men correspond[ing] to the magnitude of the event’.129 Ferrari (1987) radically re-interpreted the image not as (mythological) narrative but metanarrative: a (contemporary?) male chorus singing or reciting an epic verse about, or hymn to, Menelaus. ‘Menelas’ is, on Ferrari’s interpretation, not a name-label but a ‘balloon inscription’ quoting the content of the speech or song uttered by a figure or figures on the vase. Alcman fr. 19 mentions that hymns were sung at Therapne, perhaps in honor of Menelaus (p. 181, above). Ferrari argued that vase paintings of choruses, though rare, are not unknown from the archaic period; and that the spears carried by the ‘choristers’ could be explained by the heroic subject of the song. Ferrari surmised that the vase might commemorate a festival.130 This ingenious interpretation would, Anthony Snodgrass observes, ‘solve’ other potentially puzzling elements such as the identical dress and pose of all five men, the difficulty of identifying the heroic episode at hand, and the Doric form of the name (as Doric is the traditional dialect of choral song).131 Several objections, including the lack of seventh-century parallels for balloon inscriptions or depictions of choruses on vases, however, have led many scholars to treat Ferrari’s hypothesis with caution.132 And emphasizing the essentially decorative, frieze-like nature of the image ‘solves’ everything but the Doric inscription. One might compare the hunters and hoplites on the

126  Giuliani (2013) 51. 127  Cf. Giuiliani (2013) 98. 128  Fittschen (1969) 175–6; cf. Beazley (1957) 243; Friis-Johansen (1967) 34. 129  Schefold (1966) 43; cf. Boardman (2003) 110; Giuliani (2013) 284 n. 30. 130  Ferrari (1987) 180–2. 131  Snodgrass (1998) 103. 132  Cf. Kahil (1997) LIMC VIII. 1: 835–6; Immerwahr (1990) 10 n. 7, though he accepts the Aiginetan-make of the vase; Wachter (2001) 26; Boardman (2003) 110; Giuliani (2013) 97–8 with 284 n. 30. Osborne and Pappas (2007), following Wachter, note that ‘bubble inscriptions’ are a native Attic—but seemingly later—innovation, and decline to rule on the matter (153).

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232  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Chigi vase: ‘none of the figures is identified as the protagonist of the scene . . . they act as an anonymous collective.’133 The name-inscription arrests the eye and disrupts the visual continuity of the figures.134 Like the Polyphemus-figure on the nearly contemporaneous Etruscan ‘Aristonothos’ krater in the Capitoline Museum in Rome (Inv. Castellani 172), the inscription implies a visual directionality as well as a narrative.135 Without Polyphemus, who comes only at the ‘end’ when one scans the vase left-to-right, the image of a band of nearly identical figures is very like a banal (‘descriptive’) procession, albeit an odd one in which the figures rush forward carrying a long pike.136 The Polyphemus-figure on the Etruscan krater provides the figural procession with a narrative, as well as visual, terminus ante quem. The inscription ‘Menelas’ would seem to do the opposite. As Giuliani observed, the inscription provides a narrative terminus post quem; it evokes the beginning of a story. ‘There was once a noble prince named Menelaus . . . .’137 What story did our painter, or his patron, mean to tell? Nothing internal to the image allows us to say with certainty. But we can be reasonably sure that the dialectally Doric inscription ‘Menelas’ meant something to a painter or his patron resident in Athens or the Saronic gulf in the mid-seventh century. And the painter was not the only one of his day to have taken special, written notice of Menelaus. Cat. no. 2. East Greek plate (BM A749, LIMC s.v. Euphorbos I, 1) c.630–610 Menelaus is featured on what was to become perhaps the most famous ancient plate in the British Museum, the late seventh-century masterpiece of the ‘east Greek’ pottery style known as the ‘Euphorbos plate’ (Fig. 4.10).138 133  Cf. Giuliani (2013) 93–5. 134  Cf. Lissarrague (2015) on black-figure vase painters’ use of inscriptions to capture the viewer’s attention and hold and focalize his gaze. 135  Cf. the visual function of the Polyphemus figure on the indisputably narrative images on the Argive Polyphemus krater (Argos Arch. Mus. C 149) and the Polyphemus-vase in Eleusis, where the figure dominates the space, Giuliani (2013) 70–6. 136  Polyphemus, like the signature (‘Aristonothos’) is almost extraneous to the decorative force of the figures; and it might be interpreted thus if the vase survived only as a fragment with Polyphemus and ‘Odysseus’, standing over him, lost. But the long pike carried by the figures lends it a ‘strong’ narrative force, provoking a question in the viewer as to the men’s purpose; the question is ‘answered’, if the image is viewed left-to-right, in its termination in the eye of the giant; cf. Hurwit (2011) 14; Giuliani (2013) 71–2. 137  Giuliani (2013) 98. 138  Cf. its inclusion in Dyfri Williams’s (2009) selection of masterworks from the British Museum (56, no. 23). Villing and Mommsen (2017) prefer the term ‘East Dorian’, cf. 99–101, 109 n. 7.

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Menelaus in Archaic Art  233

Fig. 4.10.  East Greek plate from Kamiros (Rhodes), c.630–610 bc. Cat. no. 2. British Museum A749. © The Trustees of the British Museum. All rights reserved.

Found at Kamiros on Rhodes, the plate warrants special consideration not only for its art historical importance but for the role given to Menelaus. We shall therefore consider the iconography and narrative elements in some detail. At left a warrior labelled ‘Menelas’, wearing a chitoniskos, cuirass, and knemides, carries a shield on his left arm and brandishes a spear at his opponent. Menelaus’ helmet extends beyond the narrative field, covering a section of the banding motif that encircles the inside rim. The name-label runs orthograde from the tip of his helmet above a dot-floral element and then curves down, skirting the left side of the centre scroll motif, to touch the top of his shield. The inside face of the shield is decorated with a balanced cascade of spirals to the right and left of the shield-band. Menelaus and his opponent (‘Hector’) are dressed identically to one another except for their helmets. Hector brandishes a spear in his right hand, mirroring and meeting the spear of Menelaus just opposite. On his left arm he carries a shield with an eagle motif. The name-inscription runs retrograde from the semicircular floral rim device toward the centre-point

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234  Menelaus in the Archaic Period of the plate, squeezed into a tight space between his helmet and the ­double-scroll/shell decoration at the centre. A fallen warrior lies between them with helmet pointed left, head and torso positioned fully under the legs of Menelaus. The shield of the fallen warrior is identical to Menelaus’ and is positioned just below it. The label ‘Euphorbos’ is fitted orthograde between the two shields, curving gently from Menelaus’ right thigh down along the rim of Euphorbus’ shield. The helmets worn by Euphorbus and Menelaus appear to be identical, whereas that of Hector is slightly different. Erika Simon described the iconography as mixed, combining ‘Rhodian’ decorative elements with Proto- and early Corinthian choice of theme and technique.139 The iconography is consistent with other examples of the Wild Goat style of orientalizing east Greek pottery found on Rhodes.140 Analyses of iconography and letter forms have offered various possible provenances from the Doric hexapolis and its environs.141 Clay analyses have revealed that much of the clay of this orientalizing-style pottery was not from Rhodes. Neutron activation analysis of the plate and others found on Rhodes now demonstrates that the ‘Euphorbos plate’ was an import, indicating the island of Kos as the place of production.142 The name ‘Menelaus’ is in the Doric dialectal form on the plate (Mενέλᾱς), as on the Protoattic dinos-stand discussed above (Cat. no. 1).143 The script is apparently Argive rather than the Laconian alphabet otherwise used on Rhodes, although missing the characteristic Argive beta. Other vase fragments have been found on Rhodes with inscriptions painted in the Argive alphabet as well.144 The name-inscriptions’ very presence, however, make the image almost more difficult to interpret rather than less.145 Without the heroic 139  Simon (1976) 55; cf. Boardman (1998) 143: the ‘ambitious’ figure-style is ‘similar to those of the Cyclades’. 140  Cf. the trefoil oinochoe in Malibu (81. AE. 83) featuring two central panels of ruminant animals (goats and deer) with geese and dogs on the shoulder decoration and lotus-flowers at the base; Oakley (2013) 15, fig. 5; cf. Simon (1976) 55; Boardman (1998) 143. 141  e.g. Cook and Dupont (2003) 32 and 62–3 (‘the Dorian part of the East Greek region’); cf. the suggestion of Jeffery/Johnston (LSAG2 354) that the painter may have been from Calymna due to the similarity between its letter-forms and those on some local graffiti; Wachter (2001) 221 [DOH 1] proposes that the painter was Argive but adopted a local (and standard) form of the beta; cf. Villing and Mommsen (2017) 109–10. 142  For the method, Villing and Mommsen (2017) 101–8. 143  Wachter (2001) 310–11 (§ 449). 144  LSAG2 153–4; cf. 353–4. The existence of other east Greek pottery bearing Argive letterforms renders unnecessary the hypothesis that the Euphorbos plate is a ceramic copy of an image from another medium such as a shield-band relief (Cook [1983] 2–3) or an Argive bronze plaque (an old hypothesis; cf. Giuliani [2013] 285 n. 40 with discussion and bibliography); cf. Kahil and Icard (1988) LIMC IV. 1: 69. For travelling vase painters, Papadopoulos (2009). 145  See Saunders (2008) 170–1.

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Menelaus in Archaic Art  235 names the plate features a beautifully balanced, ‘generic’ duel-scene.146 As inscribed, the meaning of the image becomes more vexed. The helmets of Menelaus and Euphorbus are identical to one another while that of Hector is different. According to (admittedly later) black-figure convention, if the figures are to be identified with the heroes of Homer, the Trojans ‘ought’ to wear identical helmets to allow the viewer to distinguish them from their opponent, Menelaus. The torso of Euphorbus, according to the same conventions, ‘ought’ to face his ally Hector. The latter choice, however, is not at all surprising if the helmet-direction indicates the slayer of the corpse, Menelaus—as in the Iliad (Il. 17. 48–60). The inscriptions do not by any means prove Iliadic influence. In Small’s terminology, they are ‘salient details’ that can be suggestive of but do not require textual influence.147 If Homer had some influence on the composition and naming of the figures, though, the differences in salient details might be ascribed to a faulty memory or to a deliberate revision of Homer (making it, in Snodgrass’s terms, ‘anti-Homeric’).148 Karl Schefold, among others, doubted Homeric influence, attributing the differences between the iconography of the plate and Homer to an alternate Argive version that perhaps predated the Iliad.149 Schefold surmised that the painter positioned the torso of Euphorbus toward Menelaus (rather than toward his companion, according to iconographic convention) to indicate that Menelaus is to receive Euphorbus’ armour.150 Several scraps of literary testimonia support the notion of a distinct Argive tradition regarding Euphorbus. Pausanias reported that he had seen the shield that Menelaus stripped from Euphorbus hanging (presumably dedicated by the hero himself) in the Argive Heraion (ii. 17. 3); the Pythagorean tradition preserves a claim by Pythagoras that his soul previously inhabited the body of Euphorbus.151 The Iliad does not, however, give much reason to suppose the existence of a prior Euphorbus-tradition. The total absence of Euphorbus in extant epic outside of the Iliad led Wolfgang Kullmann (and other neoanalysts) to 146  Cf. Ahlberg-Cornell (1992) 188; Alexandridou (2011) 60–1. 147  Cf. Small (2003) 29–31. 148  Snodgrass (1998) 109, adducing as examples of the phenomenon the Cypselus chest and the chariot race on Kleitias’ François Vase; cf. 111–12, 119–20. 149  Schefold (1966) 90; thus Simon (1976) 55; cf. Snodgrass (1998) 107. Wachter (2001) 311 emphasizes that the non-epic form of Menelaus’ name tells against ascribing direct influence on the painting by the Iliad. 150  Wachter (2001) 310 denied, however, that there is any special significance in the fact that Euphorbus’ head points toward Menelaus as the fallen warrior’s head can face either his killer or his companions (parallel examples at n. 1124); cf. Giuliani (2013) 285 n. 42. 151  Schefold (1966) 90; cf. Snodgrass (1998) 108.

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236  Menelaus in the Archaic Period consider Menelaus’ duel with Euphorbus, and the character of Euphorbus himself, an invention by Homer (cf. above, p. 91).152 At the very least it seems likely that Euphorbus would have been best known for his role in that poem. It would seem to make more sense, therefore, that the Argive tradition about Euphorbus discussed above came into existence in response to the Iliad.153 If the painter had wished to memorialize Euphorbus, moreover, why, as Giuliani notes, has the painter chosen to depict his slaying by Menelaus rather than the far more important and consequential exploit attributed to him, his mortal wounding of Patroclus? Euphorbus’ successful attack occurs in the Iliad only shortly before the encounter with Menelaus (Il. 16. 806–17) and the slaying of Euphorbus is of far lesser significance overall than the death of Patroclus. ‘Within the overall narrative context [of the Iliad] the death of Patroclus represents a decisive turning point; by contrast the death of Euphorbus is a marginal episode.’154 Patroclus would seem to have been an available subject, as he is one of the few Trojan War heroes—other than Menelaus—named on extant seventh-century vases and his death later became a favourite subject on Athenian vases.155 Another point of difference regarding Homer, with greater significance for the interpretation of Menelaus, is the identity of the opponent. Hector is just the man in the Iliad with whom Menelaus never does, quite, fight a duel. In the Iliad, Menelaus’ attempt to seize Euphorbus’ armour is unsuccessful (Il. 17. 60, 70–1). When Hector comes into view (84–6) Menelaus debates as to whether or not he should engage him and ultimately decides to flee (108–15).156 After lengthy deliberation (Il. 17. 91–105, see pp. 93–4, above), Menelaus retreats from the battlefield.157 ‘Had the painter attempted to represent what is narrated in the Iliad, his only choice would have been to show Hector striding into the picture and Menelaus striding out of it.’158 This is the very solution (a ‘chase’) chosen by Douris near the end of the archaic period, in an image that features Menelaus chasing away his opponent (‘Paris). We shall consider this examples further below (Fig. 4.16). Here it is sufficient to note that, for the painter of the ‘Euphorbos plate’,

152  e.g. Mühlestein (1987) 78–98; Edwards (1991) 63–4; Janko (1994) 409–10, 414–15. 153  Ahlberg-Cornell (1992) 65–6, 188; Burgess (2001) 77–81; Wachter (2001) 310–1. 154  Giuliani (2013) 101. 155  Cf. the Corinthian aryballos (c.625, Basle priv. coll), Amyx (1988) 642; cf. Ahlberg-Cornell (1992) 64–5 (no. 41); Schefold (1992) 138–9 fig. 139; Snodgrass (1998) 104–5. 156  Menelaus considers whether to take on Hector later on; in spite of Athena’s help, the match does not come off (Il. 17. 561–6, 574–96). 157  Cf. Giuliani (2013) 101. 158  Giuiliani (2013) 101.

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Menelaus in Archaic Art  237 another iconographic avenue was possible.159 The artist of the east Greek plate depicts the contrary outcome, that Menelaus stands to fight Hector for the arms and (probably) that he will be victorious. Giuliani leaves the image with a note of aporia.160 Menelaus is strongly marked by the iconography. Not only is he placed in the left-hand, ‘victor’, position, Menelaus is taller than his opponent Hector, so much so that Menelaus’ helmet and spear-hand (whether by design or mistake) extend into the decorative band.161 Given how closely the nameinscriptions follow the contours of the figures it is reasonable to suppose that the painter added the name-inscriptions only after having painted the ‘descriptive’ figures into the space.162 The μ- of Menelaus’ name is the darkestpreserved letter, almost as dark as the dot-floral motif above, which might indicate that it was added first. Modern name notwithstanding, the transformation of this non-specific duel scene into a specific one need not, in the first instance, have been about Euphorbus; it is at least possible, judging by the iconography, that it is a Menelaus-, not Euphorbus-themed plate. The resulting visual narrative, in any case, features key elements known to us moderns not just as Homeric, but as featured in Menelaus’ aristeia (Iliad Book 17). The great moment features Menelaus striding to the forefront of battle and slaying Euphorbus (above, pp. 89–93). However, the Homeric verses, in themselves, are as non-specific as the image on the plate without the labels. βῆ δὲ διὰ προμάχων κεκορυθμένος αἴθοπι χαλκῶι, ἀμφὶ δ᾽ ἄρ᾽ αὐτῶι βαῖν᾽ (Il. 17. 3–4)163 He strode through the foremost fighters, in gleaming bronze helmet, and stood over the corpse.

In terms of the Iliad, the painter may have coalesced Menelaus’ defence of Patroclus—a more important corpse than Euphorbus—with Menelaus’ 159  ‘Zweikampf über einem Gefallenen [Verfolgung, G]’, Recke (2002) 261 ad no. 482. 160 Giuliani (2013) 101–2; cf. Ahlberg-Cornell (1992), remarking that the differences between the Iliad and the vase painting were most likely due to ‘more formal factors’, such as the difficulty of adapting the story to ‘the standard figure-scheme of a single-combat over a dead warrior’ (65). 161  ‘Daß der lanzentragende Arm des Menelaos den Rahmen überschneidet und dadurch die Figur an Wirkung eingebüßt, ist wohl der Fehlkalkulation und nicht dem Willen des Maler zuzusprechen. Die Darstellung folgt dem bekannten erstarrten Schema II,’ Mennenga (1976) 94. 162  Boardman (2003) notes that ‘painters’ choice of inscriptions, even some tags, seem to have been premeditated only in a minority of cases’ (114). 163  Il. 17. 3 = 5. 561 (also describing Menelaus).

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238  Menelaus in the Archaic Period slightly later (unrealized) fight against Hector—a far greater opponent than Euphorbus. Turning back to that fight, the progression of the episode a little later on is little less surprising, taken verse-by-verse, than the construction of the picture on the plate. Apollo warns, τόφρα δέ τοι Μενέλαος ἀρήϊος Ἀτρέος υἱός Πατρόκλωι περιβὰς Τρώων τὸν ἄριστον ἔπεφνεν. (Il. 17. 79–80) Then warlike Menelaus son of Atreus, standing over Patroclus, has killed the best of the Trojans.

‘The best of the Trojans’ is revealed in the following verse to be not Hector (the best Trojan warrior by far)—as one might expect if the verses appeared in isolation. Instead it is Hector’s ally, Euphorbus son of Panthous, whom Menelaus has killed (Πανθοίδην Εὔφορβον 81). The identity of the speaker is the god Apollo, in disguise (71–4). Hector is stricken with grief and, spotting the fallen armour, he rushes into battle to avenge Euphorbus (83–9).164 Hector, auditor of the episode in Homer, on the vase becomes the opponent. The painter elides the first man mentioned (Patroclus), focusing on Euphorbus because he is Menelaus’ victim. The narrator states that Menelaus would have succeeded in stripping the armour, moreover, if Apollo had not intervened, for at this point no one else dared to face Menelaus in battle (68–71). Those familiar with Homer, and Homer’s Menelaus, might interpret the iconography almost as a synoptic fantasy narrative, combining successive moments of the aristeia as narrated by Homer with actions proposed but never carried out. As Menelaus’ ally, Patroclus would, according to conventional iconography, sport the same armour and helmet, which is how the painter clothed the corpse. On this hypothetical interpretation, the painter has assimilated the corpse of the ally to the opponent Menelaus has slain and hopes to despoil (cf. Il. 17. 60, 70–3). The image on this singular plate is a bird’s eye view of a duel—and there are, indeed, a pair of eyes at the centre of the plate to invite us in.165 By adding 164  The narration of the subsequent action, by the impersonal third person narrator (83–9), becomes again formulaic and as non-specific as the earlier verses (79–81). After the mention of Hector’s name in verse 83 his identity, and that of the fallen warrior, go unmentioned for eight verses until Menelaus is mentioned again (89). 165  Cf. Squire (2018) 13–15. de Jong (2001) 317 ad Od. 13. 81–92 uses the term ‘bird’s eye view’ to describe an expansion of the spatial or temporal horizon within the narrative, appropriately enough by means of an avian simile; cf. de Jong and Nünlist (2004).

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Menelaus in Archaic Art  239 the names as he has to an otherwise-conventional image, the vase painter enacted with his brush the encounter twice urged on Hector by Apollo (17. 79–80, cf. 585–90), thus fulfilling the unrealized aspiration of Homer’s Menelaus (cf. Il. 7. 95–102, 17. 561–5).166 The poet and painter worked by analogous processes, moreover, creating particular heroes and a specific narrative trajectory out of non-specific narrative units (formulaic verses and descriptive images).167 Poet and painter alike chose to transform a nonspecific narrative into a possible duel between Menelaus and Hector. And on the east Greek *‘Menelas plate’, perhaps, he wins. Whether or not the admittedly hypothetical interpretation of the image is right, the painter of the plate, like the painter of the Menelas stand discussed above, transformed a conventional iconographic scheme into a wholly new narrative by means of the inscription, in Doric, naming ‘Menelaus’ as hero. Cat. no. 3. Corinthian black-figure column-krater (Vat. Mus. 35525 / Astarita A 565, LIMC s.v. Harmatidas I, 1) c.560 The next extant image of Menelaus without Helen appears on another wellknown vase, the Corinthian ‘Astarita krater’ in the Vatican (Fig. 4.11).168 At the top of a stepped platform at left sits a bearded figure with long hair, garbed in a long chiton and himation and labelled Menelaus. ‘Odysseus’ and ‘Talthybius’, also identified by inscription, are seated below.169 Odysseus is seated just beneath Menelaus; Talthybius is at the bottom in suppliant posture.170 The placement of Talthybius at the bottom suggests that the figures are arranged in order of ascending rank. A throng of men approach on horseback and foot from the right, led by a woman labelled Theano with three attendants. The names of the Trojan men are also inscribed.171 Even without name-labels the image is more readily identifiable as narrative than the previous two images we have considered.172 The name-labels invite viewers to recognize the narrative as the traditional story known as the Embassy to Troy (Ἑλένης ἀπαίτησις) narrated in the Cypria (Cypr. arg. 166  Indications on the plate imply that it was an object of considerable value. Cut-marks indicate use, whereas holes indicative of fittings allowing it to be mounted, as well as signs of repair in antiquity, suggest that it was a valued item, perhaps even with ‘heirloom’ status. 167  Cf. Marinatos (2002) on ‘Homeric’ themes illustrated on archaic shield-bands, esp. 168–9. 168  Amyx (1988) 264 Pll. 116: 1 a–c; 117. 1 a–b; Wachter COR 74, § 441; Iozzo (2012) no. 2, pll. III–XV. 169  Hollinshead (2015) 11 with 175 n. 55. 170  Kaltsas and Shapiro (2008) 196–7. 171  See Wachter (2001) 83–5. 172  Cf. Bérard’s (1977) contention that the vase depicts a genre-scene to which epic names had been attached; answered by Davies (1977) 83–5.

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240  Menelaus in the Archaic Period

Fig. 4.11.  Corinthian column-krater, c.560 bc. Cat. no. 3. Vatican, coll. Astarita A565. Photo copyright © Governatorato SCV—Direzione dei Musei.

55–7) and referred to by Homer (Il. 3. 204–24; 11. 138–42). The early classical Ilioupersis painting of Polygnotus of Thasos in the Knidian Lesche at Delphi [now lost] lends further support to the notion that a traditional association existed between the family of Antenor, Menelaus, and Odysseus.173 Each of the names on the ‘Astarita krater’, except Menelaus’, appear in dialectally Corinthian forms.174 Menelaus’ name, by contrast, is the uncontracted epic/Ionic form, Μενέλᾱϝος. The same dialectal form is inscribed (in the genitive case) on the miniature bronze aryballos mentioned above naming Helen as wife ‘of Menelaus’ (Μενελάϝο; Fig. 5.2). Beazley long ago proposed that Menelaus’ name is distinguished dialectally from the others on the Corinthian krater due to a ‘poetic background’ to the artist’s depiction of the story. ‘What the source was, we can only speculate,’ comments Wachter.175 The composition of the painting attracts the viewer’s attention to Menelaus. The structure on which he sits, whatever it is ‘meant’ to be, is a mass of white, 173  Cf. Davies (1977) 76 n. 14; for reconstruction and analysis, Stansbury-O’Donnell (1989), (1990). 174  See Wachter (2001) 84, 339; cf. S. Morris (2014) 7. 175  Wachter (2001) 303; cf. Beazley (1957) 242; Davies (2019) 169–70.

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Menelaus in Archaic Art  241 dominating the left half of the picture.176 The increasing depth of each step draws the eye upward to him. Similarly, the four Trojan female figures and horse-and-rider procession of Trojan warriors all lead to, and face, Menelaus at the top. Menelaus’ position, if one accepts the analogy of Sophilos’ grandstand, is the position on which Achilles was seated at the Funeral Games of Patroclus.177 Menelaus’ name-label is the largest-written and easiest to read, framed by the widest margin of space. And it is set apart from the others by dialect. Menelaus’ name-label implies an epic identity; the iconography implies that Menelaus is kingliest among the assembly and perhaps even hero of the tale.178 The vase painter does something different than Homer. Like Theano, whose husband Antenor receives the embassy in Homer, Menelaus—not Odysseus—has pride of place (cf. Il. 3. 221–4).179 Cat. no. 4. Athenian black-figure cup fr. (Vathy Museum: K 1282 [c], now lost, BAPD 23104; LIMC VIII. 1. s.v. Menelaos 5). Not pictured. c.575–70 Menelaus probably appeared on a fragmentary black-figure cup attributed by Schmidt to the early Attic black-figure KX Painter, found at the Samian Heraion (Vathy).180 Numerous fine cups from the Samian Heraion, dated to the early sixth century bc, have been attributed to this influential early Athenian black-figure vase painter.181 As described by Karouzou (1937) prior to the loss of several now-missing fragments, the cup depicted Ajax and Menelaus in a procession.182 The extant fragments (K 1282; K 1283; K 1284; K 1431) represent three more figures with names inscribed (‘Hippothoos’; ΜΕ-; ΘΕ-) as well as chariot horses and portions of a decorative frieze 176  The structure might be a staircase placed just inside the wall of Troy (Beazley [1957]) or the steps of an altar, perhaps intended to represent the Temple of Athena at which Theano, priestess of the temple, assisted Hecuba (cf. Il. 6. 80–98; 297–311); cf. Davies (1977) 78 with n. 26; Danek (2005) 15–16; Iozzo (2012) 37–9; Davies (2019) 169; cf. Bérard (1977) [a public setting]. Iozzo (2012) comments that while the interpretation of the figures as suppliants and the structure as an altar has met widespread acceptance, in the end ‘la raffigurazione . . . è per noi un unicum . . . fondamentale per la sua antichità’ (40). 177  The stepped grandstand of Sophilos’ Games of Patroclus (Athens NM 15499, BAPD 305075) might reflect a shared iconographic vernacular: Sophilos was one of the earliest Athenian vase painters to adopt the scene-label, perhaps taken over from Corinthian vase painting, cf. Immerwahr (1990) 21 with n. 4; on the corinthianizing character of early Athenian vase painting, Alexandridou (2011) 78–9, 114–15; cf. Osborne and Pappas (2007) 153 (writing on early Corinthian vases most often serves a decorative function). 178  On the garb, cf. the commentary of Kahil (1997) LIMC VIII. 1: 841. 179  Bacch. fr. 15; cf. Davies (1977) 76–9; Scaife (1995) 187–9; S. Morris (2014) 3–7. 180  cf. Kreuzer (1998) cat. no. 207c; Pl. 41; Alexandridou (2011) 140 (= Samos 530). 181  cf. Alexandridou (2011) 42. 182  Karouzou (1937) 135.

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242  Menelaus in the Archaic Period (Kreuzer cat. no. 207 a–b; e–f). Alexandridou interprets the scene as one or more duels, noting the presence of a Trojan hero named Hippothous in the Iliad in the fight over the corpse of Patroclus (cf. Il. 17. 288–300).183 Whatever the original composition might have been, Karouzou’s report of the now-lost inscribed fragments provides another possible instance of the depiction of Menelaus on an early Attic black-figure vase, as well as another possible reference to a character mentioned in Iliad Book 17 in Menelaus’ aristeia (cf. Figs 4.10, 4.14). Cat. no. 5. Athenian black-figure kantharos (Berlin F 1737, BAPD 350504, LIMC VI. 1 s.v. Menestheus 1) c.550 The next two depictions of Menelaus without Helen occur in arming scenes (Fig. 4.12; cf. Fig. 4.13). The first, from Vulci, appears on a black-figure kantharos from the Charlottenburg collection in Berlin attributed by Beazley to the Sokles Painter. The picture shows a group of nude figures, all of whose names are inscribed. At the centre, Achilles faces Thetis. Behind Achilles stand Patroclus, Odysseus, and Menestheus, to whom the Athenian painter has called attention with the deictic phrase, ὁ δ’. A single figure, Menelaus, stands behind Thetis in profile to the left. His name is inscribed in the Attic dialect (MENELEOS) with Attic letter forms. Erika Simon interpreted the spears carried by Menelaus, Achilles, and Odysseus as a sign of their kingly status.184 Menelaus’ dress and attributes, compared to the others, are unremarkable. Menelaus’ distinctive feature, here, is his placement in the scene. He stands behind Thetis, in contrast to the other heroes who stand opposite and face her. The position is not readily explicable by—and need not be attributed to—any known story. One wonders why Menelaus is included in the group. Menestheus has the weakest Homeric credentials, as perhaps the vase painter ostentatiously recognizes by appending the label ὁ δ᾽, but he is an Athenian. Patroclus ‘belongs’ with Achilles; and Odysseus is the hero of the other Homeric epic. Why is Menelaus present? Might it be that by the middle of the sixth century, Menelaus had become defined for the Athenian painter or viewer as ‘from Sparta’? If an ostentatiously ‘Athenian’ hero Menestheus can insinuate himself in the heroic group, perhaps Menelaus was included as his counterpart

183  Alexandridou (2011) 60; cf. Kreuzer (1998) 43–4. 184  Simon (1976) 80–1, cf. Alföldi (1959); cf. Knittlmayer (1997) 50 with n. 219.

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Fig. 4.12.  Athenian black-figure kantharos, c.550 bc. Sokles Painter.Cat. no. 5. Berlin Antikensammlung F1737, BAPD 350504. bpk Bildagentur/Berlin Antikensammlung/Jürgen Liepe/Art Resource, NY.

qua ‘Spartan’.185 The hypothesis would also explain, at least in part, Menelaus’ separation (standing behind Thetis) from the other figures on the vase. Achilles, Patroclus, and Odysseus, standing with Menestheus, are visually joined with him and perhaps by implication claimed for an Athenian, rather than generically ‘Achaean’, identity. Cat. no. 6. Athenian black-figure hydria (Leipzig T3327, BAPD 1746, LIMC VIII. 1 Menelaus 8 [= LIMC VIII. 1 Thetis 40]) c.540 The naming of Menelaus in another arming scene, appearing on a blackfigure Athenian hydria attributed by von Bothmer to the Archippe Group, yields perhaps the most puzzling Menelaus image of all (Fig. 4.13). Found at Cerveteri, the vase depicts a young, beardless nude warrior who arms himself in the presence of Thetis and a Nereid. A fragmentary but legible inscription 185  Cf. Simon. fr. 40(a) FGE: ἔκ ποτε τῆσδε πόληος ἅμ᾽ Ἀτρείδηισι Μενεσθεύς / ἡγεῖτο ζάθεον Τρωϊκὸν ἐς πεδίον (1–2); Boedeker (1996).

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244  Menelaus in the Archaic Period

Fig. 4.13.  Athenian black-figure hydria, c.540 bc. Archippe Group. Cat. no. 6. Antikenmuseum der Universität Leipzig T3327, BAPD 1746. Courtesy of Antikenmuseum der Universität Leipzig. Photo: Marion Wenzel.

seems to name the young figure as Menelaus (ΜΕ . . . LEOS).186 Whereas Menelaus stands behind Thetis on the Berlin kantharos discussed above, and is one among several warriors attendant on Achilles as he arms, on the Leipzig hydria Menelaus seems to take Achilles’ place. The reading of the fragmentary label as ‘Menelaus’ seems to be correct; but—as we shall see— the name inscribed may very well be a mistake.187 ‘Menelaus’, if that is who he is, does not sport his conventional attributes such as a beard. Several attributes that are present, moreover, such as the

186  Cf. Vollkommer (1988) LIMC VIII. 1: 11 (s.v. Thetis 40) for bibliography and description. 187  Woodford (2003) 203; cf. Kahil (1988) LIMC VIII. 1: 836; Vollkommer (1988) LIMC VIII. 1: 11. Cf. the disputed reading on Vienna 3618 (BAPD 320217).

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Menelaus in Archaic Art  245 ‘Boeotian shield’, are typically associated with Achilles.188 If the vase painter sought to tell a ‘new story’ about Menelaus one might have expected a change in the conventional ‘Achilles arms’ iconography—or a scene-title. Inspiration from a lost literary narrative is an unsatisfactory explanation for iconographical anomalies; here there is no sign of Helen and no surviving literary source to link Menelaus with Thetis.189 We have seen that in Homer, Menelaus does ‘stand in’ for Achilles (in the defence of Patroclus’ corpse).190 He challenges Hector and initiates the rescue of Patroclus. Menelaus’ defence of Patroclus might have been well known over fifty years earlier, in a general way at least, to the painter of the ‘Euphorbos plate’ (Fig. 4.10). Might the Iliad’s ‘intrusion’ of Menelaus into Achilles’ role defending Patroclus have predisposed the artist to accidentally ‘insert’ Menelaus for Achilles in this image? Impossible to say; but even if the inscription is an entirely fortuitous mistake, as is most likely, the substitution of Menelaus for the best of the Achaeans has an excellent poetic precedent (above pp. 103–5). Cat. no. 7. Athenian black-figure amphora A (Philadelphia MS 3442, BAPD 310396, LIMC s.v. Aithiopes I, 1 [= s.v. Achilleus 881]) c.540 Menelaus next appears without Helen in a fascinating and complex image on one side of a well-known black-figure amphora in Philadelphia painted by Exekias (Furtwängler) that was found at Orvieto (Fig. 4.14).191 Due to its complexity and the interpretive challenges it presents, it will be discussed in some detail. On one side of the vase, at right, a warrior (for whom no namelabel is preserved) lifts a fallen body with the label [‘Ach]illes’ placed just above. If the label belongs with the corpse, as it is usually taken to do, the scene would be a rescue-of-Achilles, one of several such images by the painter.192 To the left, a duel is underway between Menelaus and ‘Amasis’, each figure identified by inscriptions that are apparently in different dialects. Menelaus’ 188  Karouzou (1956) 14 considered the ‘Boeotian shield’ an indication that Achilles is the hero implied; cf. Knittlmayer (1997) 50. 189  Cf. Knittlmayer (1997) 51 n. 221. 190  Heath (2017) 182 objects to Currie’s use of the phrase (‘stand in’); but it need not imply that the characters do not remain ‘distinctively’, in Heath’s phrase, themselves. 191  Dev2 63; Boardman (1978) 17; Recke (2002) no. 482 with pl. 6b; Steiner (2007) 22–3, 96; Mackay (2010) 291–303 (no. 27). In the image, the focus is on the defence of the corpse rather than its transport; cf. LIMC I. 1 s.v. Achilleus 871 (Berlin F 1718, BAPD 310387), 876 (Munich 1470, BAPD 310388). 192  On the usual interpretation of the label, Mackay (2010) 294 with n. 20. Mackay proposes instead that the label might identify the rescuer, not the corpse (295–6).

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246  Menelaus in the Archaic Period

Fig. 4.14.  Athenian black-figure amphora, c.540 bc. Exekias. Cat. no. 7. Philadelphia, University Museum 3442, BAPD 310396. Courtesy of Penn Museum, Philadelphia.

name is unmistakably the epic/Ionic nominative ΜΕΝΕΛΑΟΣ (contrast Attic Μενέλεος, Figs. 4.6–8, 4.12–13, 4.15–16) whereas the name of the opponent ΑΜΑΣΟΣ (‘[image of] Amasis’) probably represents the contracted Attic genitive (< Ἀμάσεως).193 Menelaus is dressed in helmet, chitoniskos, and knemides; he stabs the ‘Aethiopian’ figure (negroid features, armed with club and lunate shield) turned toward the left, with head turned to the right, who is identified as ‘Amasis’.194 The composition is an ‘Unequal Fight’ with the conventional positions of Menelaus (victor in the duel) and his victim ‘Amasis’ reversed.195 Mackay notes that the composition is unusual in lacking a central focus; ‘the midpoint of the scene is marked only by being the division between the centrifugal left and right halves . . . each half presents a separate 193  The spelling of Achilles’ name AXILEOS probably represents the epic genitive (Ἀχλῆος) though the Attic form is also possible (Ἀχιλέως), Mackay (2010) 291 with n. 1. 194  LIMC I. 1 s.v. Aithiopes 1; cf. Cohen (2012) 464–8. The name ‘Amasis’ was used elsewhere by Exekias for an ‘Aethiopian’ (London B 209, BAPD 310390); cf. Mackay (2010) no. 18. von Bothmer (1985) proposed that Exekias is playing off the name or origin of the Amasis Painter, probably the same man as the potter Amasis, with whom Exekias collaborated (30–1); cf. Mackay (2010) 291 n. 2. 195  For the term, Mackay (2010) 204 n. 20.

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Menelaus in Archaic Art  247 action that is visually related by means of the corpse.’196 Recke comments that the ‘Flight’ motif is uppermost in the iconography.197 Menelaus is depicted as superior to his victim by his relative height, stance, and attributes: he is ‘brutally overpowering’ his opponent.198 The other side of the vase shows a pair of male figures at left, with only their lower halves preserved, running toward the left. A corpse is stretched out along the ground at their heels, with head to the left; the name ‘Antilochus’ is inscribed. Damage to the surface of the vase obscures the centre of the image, but three warriors seem to be following them from the right. The right-hand-most figure is better preserved and carries a large white shield decorated with a black bird. The warrior is labelled ‘Euphorbus’.199 The vase appears to depict two themes from the Aithiopis as we know it from Proclus and Apollodorus: the slaying of Antilochus by Memnon, for which Achilles will take revenge; and, as a result, the death of Achilles and the rescue of his corpse by Ajax.200 Exekias would seem to have inserted Menelaus into the fight: he vanquishes one of Memnon’s Aethiopians while Ajax rescues the corpse of Achilles. The overall interpretation remains vexed, and not only because of the fragmentary nature of the vase.201 But there is a narrative logic to it.202 Memnon kills Antilochus (labelled), on the one side— while his Aethiopian cohort flees; the rescue of Achilles’ corpse (labelled) appears on the other, as Menelaus fends off one of the Aethiopians. Steiner explains the overall narrative-type accordingly as causally linked, phased, and polyscenic: Antilochus’ death indirectly causes the death of Achilles.203 What is Menelaus doing here? He is, to put it mildly, ‘unexpected,’ as Boardman comments.204 There is no mention of Menelaus in the Aithiopis as we know it. Odysseus assisted Ajax in the defence of Achilles’ body and Menelaus does not figure in the Achilles-Memnon episode (Aith. arg. 10–15; West [2003] 110–12).205 Beazley interpreted the Menelaus/Amasis duel in light of the scene on the reverse side of the vase rather than the

196  Mackay (2010) 294. 197  Recke (2002) 17, cf. ‘Zweikampf ’ no. 482. 198  Muth (2008) 355–6; Mackay (2010) 294–5. 199  Mackay (2010) 299–300 with bibliography at n. 55. 200  For the duel of Achilles and Memnon, Mackay (2010) 298 with n. 51; Smith (2014) esp. 32–6; Davies (2016) 19–22, 31–4, 58–60. 201  For the generally accepted interpretation, Mackay (2010) 294–5 with further bibliography at 294 n. 20. Mackay objects that it entails ‘a pictorial complexity far beyond the black-figure norm’ (295). 202  Assisted by visual repetitions on the two sides of the vase; cf. Steiner (2007) 22–3. 203  Steiner (2007) 96. 204  Boardman (1978) 17. 205  See Davies (2016) 66–72.

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248  Menelaus in the Archaic Period rescue-of-corpse scene next to it.206 ‘[I]f the two sides of the vase are taken together’ Boardman explains, ‘[Menelaus’] attack on Amasis may provide the link between Achilles’ fight with Memnon (not shown) and the moment of Achilles’ own death (not shown)’.207 That is, Menelaus is the link between the excluded details on the two sides of the vase.208 Mackay considers the possibility of Homeric inspiration for the vase, though she ultimately dismisses it. The images might ‘readily be interpreted as a response to the narrative of Patroclus’ death’ in the Iliad, she remarks, if it were not for the inclusion of Antilochus and the two Aethiopians. Mackay also objects that ‘reading’ the Iliad on Exekias’ vase ‘results in a scene in which there is no real narrative point’. 209 Mackay prefers to read the label ‘Achilles’ as the name of the rescuing warrior to Menelaus’ right (rather than the corpse) and the identity of the corpse as Memnon.210 But on this interpretation, as well, Menelaus’ role remains hard to understand. Mackay notes that archaic vase painters, like oral poets, construct different narratives by employing traditional scene-types (such as a duel) and varying the participants.211 We have speculated as to how the process might have occurred on the ‘Euphorbos plate’ (Fig. 4.10) in light of a specific Iliadic episode, the aristeia of Menelaus. Menelaus’ depiction on the Exekias vase can be richly interpreted in light of the same episode. Every Achaean named on the vase is implicated in Menelaus’ aristeia: Menelaus and Euphorbus (Il. 17. 1ff.; in the Iliad, of course, Euphorbus is a Trojan); Antilochus and Achilles (the former hero sent by Menelaus to the latter, Il. 17. 684–93); Ajax, though unnamed on the now-fragmentary vase, assists Menelaus throughout. In the Iliad, Menelaus carries off the corpse of Achilles’ companion with Ajax mounting the defence (17. 708–29); on the Philadelphia vase, Ajax rescues the corpse of Achilles himself while Menelaus fends off the foe. The Philadelphia vase tells a very different story (or stories) than the Iliad, to be sure; and in the Iliad the battle with Memnon, famously, does not appear.212 While admittedly speculative, it is just possible that 206  Dev2 63. 207  Boardman (1978) 17. 208  Steiner (2007) discusses ‘syntactical and compositional echoes’ between the events on either side of the vase; the viewer’s participation in the story is engaged through the painter’s use of ‘synonymy and ellipse’ (22). 209  Mackay (2010) 300. 210  Mackay (2010) interprets the two sides of the vase as successive moments rather than causally linked episodes. On the one side, Memnon has killed Antilochus while his two followers flee; on the other, Achilles has killed Memnon, and Menelaus despatches the last remaining Aethiopian, ‘Amasis’ (296–301). 211  Mackay (2010) 5–6, 374–5; cf. Kullmann (1960) 315–16. 212  Mackay (2010) 297 proposed that certain anomalies on the reverse of the vase, such as the unusual stance of Achilles and ‘strange’ position of Memnon’s head, might imply

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Menelaus in Archaic Art  249 Exekias, in ‘lucid control of so many heterogeneous details’,213 has woven together motifs and characters from two stories, the aristeia of Menelaus in Homer and that of its putative progenitor, the Aithiopis.214 The similarities between the two stories, even if one rejects neoanalysts’ ascription of influence or allusion, could have facilitated their association on the vase. Menelaus’ shield-device (a Laconian hound) is matched by the large crow on the shield of Euphorbus on the other side of the vase. Mackay aptly observes that the shield devices ‘give(s) visible expression’ to a traditional Homeric motif: the inglorious fate awaiting an unburied corpse in Homeric epic, to become carrion for dogs and birds.215 One such formulaic motif occurs later in Book 17, at the centre of Menelaus’ aristeia. Athena strengthens Menelaus so that he can face Hector in single combat for the corpse of Patroclus. σοὶ μὲν δή, Μενέλαε, κατηφείη καὶ ὄνειδος ἔσσεται, εἴ κ᾽ Ἀχιλῆος ἀγαυοῦ πιστὸν ἑταῖρον τείχει ὕπο Τρώων ταχέες κύνες ἑλκήσουσιν. (Il. 17. 556–8) You know indeed, Menelaus, that reproach and shame will beset you if swift dogs drag the trusted companion of illustrious Achilles beneath the Trojan wall.

Athena reminds Menelaus of how greatly the Achaeans will blame him if the corpse of Achilles’ companion should be left to be dragged about by dogs under the wall of Troy. Exekias shows Menelaus brandishing his shield with its ferocious dog-device (cf. 558), just as the rescue of Achilles’ own corpse is underway (cf. 557). To be sure, even if the painter did know the Iliad, it is highly improbable that he would have had this specific image in mind. The small, conventional iconographic detail instead reflects a heroic vernacular shared in common by poets and painters. Whether the Iliad is specifically at hand, or in the mind of any painter, is in the final instance impossible to know, of course; and in any case ‘[t]he

maltreatment of the corpse, analogous to Hector’s maltreatment of the corpse of Patroclus narrated in Iliad 17 (125–7); cf. 301. 213  Schefold (1992) 270. 214  The duel between Achilles and Memnon was a popular subject on black-figure vases, without any need to assume direct influence from the epic poem; cf. Davies (2016) 31–4; on the speculative nature of reconstructions of the Aithiopis, Davies (2019) 186. 215  Mackay (2010) 294 with n. 26.

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250  Menelaus in the Archaic Period object of our inquiry is not the thoughts of the artist but the images on the cup’.216 On any reading of this very interesting vase, however, the images do indicate that Exekias took pains to intrude Menelaus in a scene where he would not necessarily otherwise have played a part. And, in addition to having depicted Menelaus as a bold and fearsome warrior, he has dialectally marked his name (like Achilles’) as epic. Exekias is an ostentatiously clever vase painter.217 It is just possible that these choices betray some knowledge of a specific story, Menelaus’ Iliadic aristeia, in keeping with its painter’s generally ‘literate’ sensibility.218 Cat. no. 8. Athenian black-figure amphora B(Great Britain Priv. Coll. [formerly Riehen, coll. Hoek], BAPD 350470, LIMC s.v. Hélène 79a). Not pictured c.540 The ex-Riehen amphora by the Amasis Painter (Cahn) depicting the Recovery of Helen discussed above (pp. 218–19) features a conventional duel scene on the reverse (not shown). Karl Schefold identified the left-hand warrior as Menelaus (and his opponent on the right as Paris) by the presence of a warrior in identical garb, on the obverse, in the Recovery of Helen image. Schefold held that our ‘expectation’ that Menelaus might be the identity of the warrior-figure on both sides of the vase is confirmed by the fact that: the winner of the duel on the front, identified by his taller helmet and his dominant left–hand position, wears exactly the same panther-head epaulettes on his armour as the character who is guaranteed as Menelaus on the other side. We need not be worried by the fact that there is no sign of Paris’ imminent defeat . . . the idea of defeat cannot be accommodated in the Amasis Painter’s plan, which is to produce an image of heroic perfection.219

Schefold’s identification of the figures in the otherwise non-specific duel image seems right. His further interpretation of the vase as ‘an explicit illustration’ of the duel in Iliad 3 is less plausible. The iconography by itself does 216  Giuliani (2013) 246. 217  e.g. the naming of the Ethiopian as ‘Amasis’; Boardman (1987) 147–50; Mackay (2010) 294 n. 26. 218 On Exekias’ literacy, Immerwahr (1990) 32, 174; Mommsen (1998); Mackay (2010) 380–1 (use of narrative material from contemporary poetic performances); cf. the explanation of Giuliani (2013) that the ‘mistaken’ names on Kleitias’ François vase probably are the result of a faulty memory of an oral performance (116–17). 219  Schefold (1992) 237.

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Menelaus in Archaic Art  251 not provide us enough information to draw such a conclusion.220 That Menelaus’ duel with Paris in Iliad 3 did catch the attention of at least some Athenian vase painters is strongly suggested, however, by the probable depiction of the episode—as confirmed by inscriptions—on at least two subsequent Attic vases from the late in the archaic period.221 Cat. no. 9. Athenian black-figure amphora A (Munich 1415 [J 380], BAPD 4652, LIMC s.v. Alexandros 78 [= s.v. Menelaus 12]) c.510 The first inscribed Menelaus-Paris duel image to be discussed appears on a black-figure amphora attributed to the manner of the Leagros group (Lullies) and dated to the late sixth century (Fig. 4.15). On this vase, Menelaus takes his place among the greatest heroes to have fought to the end of the Trojan War.222 The central image depicts Ajax carrying the stripped body of Achilles off the battlefield; to Ajax’s left, Neoptolemus fights Aeneas. Menelaus, in the right-hand section of the image, threatens Paris with his spear. Two slain Trojan warriors in oriental dress lie on the ground. The duel-type is conventional, ‘Unentschiedener Zweikampf [U] über einem Gefallenen [G]’.223 The name-inscriptions are in Attic (ΜΕΝΕΛΕΟΣ; ΠΑΡΙΣ). The splendid image on the other side of the vase depicts Chiron, Peleus, and Thetis (cf. [Hes.] fr. 204. 87–8, 92; above, pp. 194–6). An appended scene title reads Patrokl[e]ia. Bignasca comments that the two sides of the vase, taken together, depict ‘jeweils Anfang und Ende des wichtigsten Ilias-Helden Achilleus’.224 The placement of the Menelaus-Paris duel directly adjacent to Achilles and Ajax invites the viewer to interpret Menelaus as a member of the defence of Achilles’ corpse, as he apparently is on the Exekias vase as well (Fig. 4.14). In Cyclic epic, the role traditionally is ascribed to Odysseus (cf. Aith. arg. 22–4). The painterly choice in the present image translates Menelaus’ Iliadic contest with Paris for Helen into one for Achilles. Menelaus’ assistance to Achilles in the Iliad, though critical, is indirect, leading 220  Mennenga (1976) 93–4; cf. Knittlmayer (1997) 53 with n. 230. 221  Cf. Knittlmayer (1997) 55 n. 240. 222  The duel between Menelaus and Paris was paired with other Trojan War duels later in the classical period; compare the bronze group by Lykios, dedicated at Olympia by the Apolloniates (c.450–430), described by Pausanias (v. 22. 2). The dedicatory offering by Corinth and Corcyra depicted, on the half-round bathron, Zeus (seated in the centre on a throne) surrounded by Thetis, Hemera, and Eos. On both sides, Achaean/Trojan duels were depicted: Achilles/Memnon, Odysseus/Helenus, Paris/Menelaus, Diomedes/Aeneas, Ajax/Deiphobus (cf. LIMC I. 1 s.v. Alexandros 82; LIMC VIII. Suppl. I. s.v. Menelaos 15). 223  Recke (2002) no. 69; cf. Mennenga (1976) no. 51; Muth (2008) 109. 224  Bignasca (2008) 388.

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Fig. 4.15.  Athenian black-figure amphora, c.510 bc. Leagros Group. Cat. no. 9. Staatliche Antikensammlungen und Glyptothek München, 1415 (J 380), BAPD 4652. Courtesy of Staatliche Antikensammlungen und Glyptothek München. Photograph by Renate Kühling.

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Menelaus in Archaic Art  253 the fight for the corpse of Patroclus on Achilles’ behalf (Iliad 17). On this vase as, it seems, on the vase in Philadelphia discussed above (pp. 245–50), Menelaus assists in defending the fallen Achilles himself. Cat. no. 10. Athenian red-figure cup (Louvre G115, BAPD 205119, LIMC s.v. Paris 79) c.485–480 A final duel between Menelaus and Paris dated to the archaic period appears on one side of a well-known early red-figure cup in the Louvre signed by Douris (painter) and Kalliades (potter) (Fig. 4.16). A duel between Ajax and Hector (also identified by inscription) appears on the other.225 The tondo of the cup, ‘one of Douris’ masterpieces’,226 depicts Eos’ rescue of Memnon. The vase preserves the only secure depiction of the duel between Menelaus and Paris in early red-figure Athenian vase painting.227 Its iconography

Fig. 4.16.  Athenian red-figure cup, c.485–480 bc. Douris/Kalliades. Cat. no. 10. Musée du Louvre, Paris, France G115, BAPD 205119. Photo: Herve Lewandowski. © RNM-Grand Palais/Art Resource, NY. 225  Douris frequently employed inscriptions of all sorts, especially in his early and middle periods, Buitron-Oliver (1995) 41–5, esp. 41. 226  Buitron-Oliver (1995) 31–2, who placed Louvre G 115 in Douris’ Middle period, from which the majority of the extant vases are cups (like G 115). 227  Knittlmayer (1997) 55 n. 240.

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254  Menelaus in the Archaic Period resembles the duel of Aeneas and Diomedes on an early red-figure cup of Oltos (Copenhagen Thorvaldsen Mus. 100; BAPD 200503).228 Both warriors are bearded, wearing helmets and short tunics. The warrior on the left, labelled Menelaus (Attic ΜΕΝΕΛΕΟΣ), carries a massive round shield on his left arm and carries an unsheathed sword in his right which he brandishes at his opponent. This warrior is labelled ‘Alexandros’. He carries a similar shield on his left arm and a single spear in his right hand. He turns back in mid-flight (both feet are off the ground) to look at his pursuer.229 Both combatants are flanked by gods, as are the heroes on the other side of the cup. The goddess behind Paris is identified by inscription as Artemis. Even without the label her identity would have been suggested by her possession of a bow and the presence of her brother Apollo on the opposite side of the vase.230 The female figure standing behind Menelaus holds a flower and is not identified by inscription.231 Scholars since Luckenbach (1880) have identified the figure as Aphrodite who, Luckenbach proposed, is reaching out to grab Menelaus’ sword to prevent him from harming Paris. Roland Hampe denied, however, that this is the meaning of her gesture.232 The flower may be an attribute of a bride (though Persephone, not Aphrodite, is often the goddess shown holding a flower) and flowers can also be held by women in pursuit scenes.233 Hampe accordingly concluded, following Erika Simon, that the figure must be Hera—in part because in the Iliad she, along with Athena, champions Menelaus’ cause against the Trojans and Paris.234 The action is less a duel than a pursuit (cf. Fig. 4.15).235 Paris does not stand his ground against Menelaus.236 Buitron-Oliver accepts the notion that it was the duel in Iliad Book 3 that inspired Douris to modify the traditional stance of the right-hand (losing) opponent.237 Several other important details differentiate the stories told by painter and poet. 228  Cf. Muth (2008) 120. 229  Cf. Mennenga (1976) 94–5. 230  Simon (1976) 118. 231  When two female figures are shown flanking a pair of dueling warriors on Athenian vases, the protagonists are often (although not always) Achilles and Memnon (Knittlmayer [1997] 53 n. 230). 232  Hampe (1981) LIMC I. 1: 514 s.v. Alexandros 79. 233  Sourvinou-Inwood (1991) 65, 108–10, 161. 234  Simon (1976) 118; Hampe (1981) LIMC I.  1: 514 s.v. Alexandros 79; Buitron-Oliver (1995) 32. 235  ‘Schema I der Verfolgung, im Typus A’, Mennenga (1976) 94. 236  Cf. the flight stance on a Brussels Royal Library Corinthian cup (LIMC Aias I 22 above, p. 000); Recke (2002) 19. 237  Buitron-Oliver (1995) 31–2, proposing that the duel between Ajax and Hector on the opposite side of the vase might accordingly be inspired by the duel between these figures in Iliad 7, where Ajax has hurled a rock at Hector (a tactic he uses twice; cf. 14. 409–15).

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Menelaus in Archaic Art  255 In Homer Paris does not flee Menelaus on foot; Menelaus drags him by his helmet and he only escapes strangulation by the intervention of Aphrodite, who tears the helmet-strap to free him from Menelaus’ grip (Il. 3. 369–72) before spiriting him away to his palace (380–2). The identity of Paris’ patron goddess makes the notion of Iliadic influence still more problematic. Even if the figure behind Menelaus is correctly to be as identified Hera (rather than e.g. Aphrodite), this goddess does not appear in the duel in Book 3; and Aphrodite, not Artemis, comes to Paris’ aid.238 The Iliad might have had some influence on Douris’ choice and conception of the duel but was not normative for the overall narrative.239 Douris’ own narrative considerations, rather than Homer’s, have resulted in a fascinating and fresh version of the story. Douris lessens the level of divine agency in Paris’ removal from the battlefield as he flees on his own, with a goddess merely in attendance. That the helper goddess is the chaste Artemis is a complete reversal of the erotic identity of his helper in the Iliad. Simon observed that the duels on either side of the cup share a common theme, the decisive intervention of the gods. On the tondo the goddess Eos only appears too late to save her son Memnon. In our image, by contrast, the virgin goddess arrives in time for Paris to escape being slain by Menelaus. The pair of duels along the outside of the cup also point up a contrast between the two Trojan brothers, Paris and Hector. Paris takes flight, whereas his brother stands his ground; the cowardice of the one plays off the bravery of the other.240 Though diverging from the Iliadic version of the MenelausParis duel, Douris may still have known of it.241 Whether or not the poet had access to the Iliadic account of the duel, the figures are ‘caught’, visually, at the moment in which Menelaus demonstrates decisive superiority over Paris. The goddesses flanking the scene, whoever the one may be, remind the viewer of the divine context in which this all occurs. And an audience that knows the outcome of the match in the Iliad may be permitted to smile. Paris will escape, and Aphrodite will have her way.

238  Artemis appears in the Iliad in the Theomachy of Book 21: she joins battle on the Trojan side and is bested by Hera (470–96). 239  Cf. Hampe (1981): the duel-scenes on either side of the vase ‘zeigen, dass die Vasenmaler gegenüber dem Wortlaut des Epos auch selbständige Versionen bringen’ (514). 240  Simon (1976) 118. 241  Cf. Hurwit (2011) 5, discussing the likelihood that Euphronios might have heard the Iliad performed at the Greater Panathenaea in the later Peisistratid period.

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256  Menelaus in the Archaic Period

Naming Menelaus a Hero in Archaic Art Menelaus entered Greek narrative art early on, when supra-local iconographic conventions were not fixed (so far as we can tell) and Athenian pots did not yet rule the market. He became wildly popular with Helen on innumerable black-figure vases produced in Athens in the sixth century, many of which— though surely not all—were destined for export.242 The Recovery of Helen at the fall of Troy, with its overt violence and latent eros, held considerable appeal for vase painters of the sixth- and early fifth centuries and their audiences as part of a widespread and long-lasting Ilioupersis-vogue on Athenian vases.243 The Recovery of Helen nucleus does not depend on any single poetic version and alterations to the iconography seem mostly to have occurred in response to art-historical trends. In the few but intriguing examples in which Menelaus does appear without Helen artists took care to secure Menelaus’ identity by inscription. The labels lend him a distinctive narrative identity, often as ‘hero’ of the vase. The painter of the ‘Euphorbos plate’ envisions Menelaus standing his ground against Hector, something that Homer (not to mention Agamemnon) took pains never to allow. Locating Menelaus’ and Paris’ duel in the context of the defence of Achilles, as on the Leagros group amphora and the Exekias vase in Philadelphia, provides Menelaus an even more important role than the one he plays in the Iliadic aristeia (Fig. 4.15, cf. 4. 14). In several instances, moreover, Menelaus is dialectally marked. He is Μενέλᾱς (the dialectally Doric form) on the Protoattic dinos-stand (Fig. 4.9) and east Greek ‘Euphorbos plate’ (Fig. 4.10). Μενέλᾱϝος, the epic/uncontracted Ionic dialectal form, contrasts with the Doric forms of the other figures’ names on the Corinthian ‘Astarita krater’ (Fig. 4.11). The epic/Ionic (rather than Athenian) form is used for Menelaus’ name, like that of Achilles, on the Exekias vase (Μενέλαος, Fig. 4.14). While direct Homeric influence or inspiration is unlikely for the vases here considered, the several instances of Menelaus’ depiction without Helen correspond to his greatest moments in the Iliad.244 The duel between Menelaus 242 Cf. Spivey (1991); Mackay (2010) 2; Osborne (2018) 40–8; cf. Stansbury O’Donnell (2014) table 3. 243  Anderson (1997) 208–9, 234–45; Muth (2008) 93–133. 244  Much later, in the chronicle of the temple of Lindian Athena on Rhodes (B 62–8), an analogously ‘marked’ choice of dialectal form occurred. In the dedication of Alexander’s cap by ‘Menelaus’, the inscription is in Doric (matching the dedicator’s ‘own’ dialect, as well as the spot of dedication) whereas the use of the epic form in the list of dedicators reflects Menelaus’ epic credentials, Higbie (2003) 169; cf. Dillery (2015) 73.

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Menelaus in Archaic Art  257 and Paris, narrated in Iliad 3, was perhaps depicted by the Amasis Painter (Cat. no. 8 [not pictured]), a painter identified with the Leagros group (Fig. 4.15), and Douris (Fig. 4.16). The embassy to Troy, as recalled by Antenor in the midst of the Book 3 duel, is depicted on the ‘Astarita krater’ (Fig. 4.11) and perhaps the ‘Menelas stand’ (Fig. 4.9). Menelaus’ aristeia might supply, at least in some measure, the images and/or characters on the ‘Euphorbos plate’ (Fig. 4.10), the now-lost vase fragments painted by the KX Painter (Cat. no. 4 [not pictured]) and Exekias’ vase in Philadelphia (Fig. 4.14). Reading the images in ‘parallel’ with Homer yields us moderns an understanding of Menelaus as a surprisingly heroic and popular figure. From his first appearance in Greek art until the end of the Persian wars Menelaus is visually defined as a mighty warrior or stately king. It need not have been so; contrast the later popularity in Athens of the erotic/comic image, first extant on the ‘Onesimos cup’, of Menelaus dropping his sword (Fig. 4.8). In the archaic period, though, painters of black- and early redfigure vases (or their patrons) took pains to depict Menelaus without Helen as exemplary. Was it the ‘same’ Menelaus that captivated the eye in the many conventional images of the Recovery of Helen? For viewers in the archaic period, the answer could have been ‘yes’. Menelaus is, after all, the only major Trojan War hero who succeeded in victoriously reclaiming a formerly wayward, but now willing, wife.

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5

The Cult of Menelaus and Helen at Therapne Introduction Agamemnon, fearing the opprobrium of his enemies, imagines their scorn if Menelaus should die at Troy. καί κέ τις ὧδ᾽ ἐρέει Τρώων ὑπερηνορεόντων τύμβωι ἐπιθρώισκων Μενελάου κυδαλίμοιο . . . . (Il. 4. 176–7) And someone of the haughty-hearted Trojans will perhaps say [the following] as he leaps up on the grave mound of brave Menelaus . . . .

Yet for Menelaus to die before the war ends is an impossibility (cf. Il. 4. 175). In the Odyssey, accordingly, Menelaus is safely ensconced in Sparta with Helen. Death will never come to Menelaus, Proteus predicts, for he will live forever in Elysium (Od. 4. 561–3). The mutually contradictory fates, death in battle or immortality in paradise, entail a difference in built memorial structures. As to the former fate, Agamemnon envisions a monument at the site of Menelaus’ death (τύμβος Il. 4. 177). The latter fate would allow for no such death-memorial. All that one could see, presumably, would be the g­ lorious palace (Od. 4. 43–6). And this correlates rather nicely with what we actually find, near Sparta, at a place on the banks of the Eurotas River known in ­antiquity as Therapne. Homer and archaeology would seem, here, to intersect.1

1  Snodgrass’s (1980) history of the archaic period advanced the rapprochement of the several disciplines (philology, history, and archaeology) that had long been sought by anglophone Homerists (esp. 12–13); cf. the original (1962) Companion to Homer, begun in the late 1930s and edited by the archaeologists A. J. B. Wace and Frank J. Stubbings, which included historical, linguistic, and archaeological alongside literary chapters. A not-always happy alliance of the disciplines seemed a fait accompli by the late twentieth century (Morgan [1990] 24) and the synthetic approach continues to hold the day; cf. J. K. Davies (2009). The ‘radically heterogeneous’ (Rose [2012] 47) nature of the different classes of evidence, however, necessitates Menelaus in the Archaic Period: Not Quite the Best of the Achaeans. Anna R. Stelow, Oxford University Press (2020). © Anna R. Stelow. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780199685929.001.0001

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The Cult of Menelaus and Helen at Therapne  259 A ‘happy congruence’ of evidence,2 from the seventh century bc onward, indicates that Menelaus was honoured there with Helen.3 Authors from the early archaic period through the end of the era attest to the presence of a shrine to Menelaus and/or Menelaus and Helen on the hills across the Eurotas River from modern Sparta (Part 1, below). The site, comprising an archaic shrine built next to and atop an extensive Mycenaean site, was well studied by the British School early and late in the twentieth century (Part 2).4 Inscriptional evidence corresponds with the ancient testimonia to indicate that Menelaus and Helen were worshiped at the place already known in antiquity as the Menelaion. Dedications to Helen and Menelaus dated to the seventh and sixth centuries bc are among the earliest reported inscriptional evidence for the worship of any Homeric hero in Greece (Part 3).5 The archaic cult at the Menelaion is frequently discussed both for the study of hero cult in itself and for the question as to how early Greek cult did (or did not) intersect with the efflorescence of epic poetry.6

Literary Testimonia to the Cult of Menelaus Alcman fr. 19 (Calame) preserves the earliest extant literary evidence of the cult to Menelaus and Helen at Therapne (above pp. 181–2).7 This fragment, as discussed above, reports that religious honours (τιμᾶσθαι [7–8], Page’s likely supplement) were paid to Menelaus at Therapne (6, 8, 12). The cult caution (Hall [20142] 16–40); cf. I.  Morris (1998) 4–9; Raaflaub (1998) 187; Martin (2008); Osborne (20092) 16. Laconian archaeology presents special difficulties due to incomplete excavation and publication of many known sites (Kennell and Luraghi [2009] 239–40). 2  The phrase chosen by Hall (20142) to describe the rare correspondence between ‘words and things’, i.e. the material record and literary evidence (29), rare especially since nearly all extant literary evidence postdates the earliest stages of historical Greek cult. Cf.  Osborne (20092): ‘The literary and the archaeological pictures . . . rarely directly illuminate each other, but together they may in different ways illuminate the same world’ (16). 3  Cf. Parker (2016) esp. 1–3; cf. Edmunds (2016) 177–84, 186–7. 4  The first excavation was carried out by A. J. B. Wace and M. S. Thompson for the British School in 1908 and 1909; the pottery was studied by Droop: see Wace, Thompson, and Droop (1908–9); Dawkins (1910). The Bronze Age strata have been fully published by H. Catling et al. (Menelaion I). The archaic volume (Menelaion II) is under preparation. 5  Cf. Whitley (2001) 153. 6  For an extensive bibliography of relevant literature on early Greek cult, Mazarakis Ainian (2004) 130–1; cf. Schäfer (1983); Calligas (1988); Deoudi (1999) 19–26, 38–9, 58–9, 124–5; Hall (1999) 49 n. 2; Ratinaud-Lachkar (2000) 249–53; Boehringer (2001) 173–8; Ekroth (2002); Morgan (2003) 12, 123–4; Finkelberg (2005) esp. 173–6; Hägg and Alroth, eds (2005); Bremmer (2006); Osborne (20092) 97–8, 292–3; Pfaff (2013) esp. 282–5; Hall (20142) 232–3; Mazarakis Ainian (2017) 101–2. 7  For the date, Huxley (2006); cf. Shaw (2003) 189–209.

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260  Menelaus in the Archaic Period seemingly took place alongside one to the Dioscuri (8–9), which is perhaps a reference to the shrine known to Herodotus as the Phoebaion (below).8 As supplemented, the fragment also seems to imply that the cult entailed ritual and perhaps choral song (τιμ]ὰ̣ς ἔχουσι· π̣ο[λλὰ] δ̣ ’ ἐμνάσαντ’ οσ[ [12–13] Calame). Two other Alcman fragments tend toward the same conclusion. Μῶσ’ ἄγε Μῶσα λίγηα πολυμμελές αἰενάοιδε μέλος νεοχμὸν ἄρχε παρσένοις ἀείδην. (fr. 4 Calame, PMG 14 [a]) Muse, come, clear-voiced Muse, far-singing, eternal poet of song, lead the maidens to sing a new song. καὶ ναὸς ἁγνὸς εὐπύργω Σεράπνας . . . . (fr. 5 Calame, PMG 14 ([b])9 And the sacred shrine of lofty Therapne . . . .

The reports of Herodian and Harpocration (respectively) indicate that frr. 4 and 5 were found in the first book of the Alexandrian edition of Alcman.10 Their collocation in Priscian might be due to derivation from the same poem (cf. PMG 14).11 Calame once considered it possible that the fragments might belong together as the opening verses of a partheneion, perhaps even one performed for Helen at Therapne12 though he elsewhere determines the hypothesis to be unlikely.13 Other ancient authors do provide indirect support for female choral-song at Sparta.14 On one possible ­interpretation of the ‘Menelas stand’ discussed above (p. 231), moreover, Menelaus might 8  Cf. Alcm. fr. 2. 2 with Calame (1983) 308, 353; see Parker’s (2016) discussion of the evidence for the worship of the Dioscuri at Therapne, 15–16 with appendix 2. 9  The language of the fragment is traditional; for the injunction to sing a ‘novel’ song, cf. H. Od. 1. 351–2; for εὔπυργος (‘well fortified’ vel sim.) cf. [Hes.] Sc. 270. 10  Cf. Calame (1983) 349, 352–3.    11  Cf. Calame (1983) 352. 12  Calame (1983) 352–3; cf. Parker (2016) 16–17. 13  Calame (1997 [1977]) dismisses the conclusion (‘in spite of the temptation’), noting the fortuitous connection between frr. 4 and 5: ‘the connection between the two quotations is based only on their mention in the same context and on their corresponding metrical structure . . . the interpreter has no authority to conclude . . . the presence in the Menelaion of a chorus of maidens’ (201–2). 14  Euripides depicts a chorus of young girls welcoming Helen back to Sparta after her exile in Egypt (Hel. 1465ff.); in Theocritus 18. 22ff she is depicted as having been a member of a chorus of girls on the banks of the Eurotas, running races and receiving praises from her chorus-mates; cf. the female Spartan choral song at A. Lys. 1314–15. Whatever Helen’s importance for Spartan parthenoi might have been, it would not necessarily be inconsistent with her identification at Therapne as a married woman; cf. Calame (1997 [1977]) 196–202; Parker (2016) 18–21.

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The Cult of Menelaus and Helen at Therapne  261 have been celebrated in Sparta by a chorus of men.15 However one assesses these hypotheses, on present understanding what is most important to glean from the fragments of Alcman is what they say about the spot.16 The shrine is a ‘sacred structure’ (ναὸς ἁγνός fr. 5).17 The place at which Helen and Menelaus were honoured (cf. fr. 19. 12) is ‘well-fortified Therapne’ (εὐπύργω Σεράπνας fr. 5).18 The archaeological record preserves evidence of numerous but humble votive offerings left by visitors here (Part 2, below). Herodotus and Isocrates both mention Therapne and provide intriguing though not unproblematic clues as to the nature of the archaic cult there. I shall discuss each author in turn before considering briefly their convergence (or non-convergence). Herodotus refers to the place ‘Therapne’ in the story of the miraculous face-lift of an unnamed baby girl who grew up to become wife of King Ariston and mother of Demaratus. The girl had been born exceptionally ugly but through the intercession of Helen at Therapne she became the most beautiful woman in Sparta (vi. 61. 1–2). Herodotus calls the sanctuary simply τὸ τῆς Ἑλένης ἱρόν, the shrine of Helen, located ‘in the place called Therapne’ above the shrine of Apollo, ὕπερθε τοῦ Φοιβηίου ἱροῦ (vi. 61. 3). That is, Therapne lay north of the temple of Apollo at Amyclae and could be reached from Sparta with ease (ἐφόρεε . . . ἀνὰ πᾶσαν ἡμέρην, she was carried there ‘each day’). Herodotus sets the anecdote in the sixth century bc.19 He makes no mention of Menelaus, though as we shall see there is substantial material evidence to indicate that he too was worshipped at Therapne in this period.20 Herodotus conceives of Helen as protrectress of girls and women.21 Yet the extant material evidence does not indicate solely or specially female cult. Votives from the Menelaion are for the most part continuous with those of other Laconian sanctuaries including 15  For male choral song, cf. Alcm. 10b. 8–20 with Fearn (2007) 227–8. 16  Cf. mentions of Therapne (Θεράπνας) at Pind. P. 11. 63; N. 10. 56 (both concerning the Dioscuri). 17  ναός need not denote a large-scale building (Tomlinson [1992] 254); in modern terms the Menelaion shrine may properly be termed a naiskos (R. Catling [1995] 323). 18  For the Doric form, Jeffery (LSAG2) 110; Wachter (2001) 26 [AIG 1]. 19  The political connection of the story should not be overlooked. The ugly girl ‘healed’ at Therapne becomes the third wife of the Spartan king Ariston and mother of Demaratus (Hdt. vi. 61. 5–63. 3). Herodotus’ story implies a connection between the cult at Therapne and the Eurypontid royal family. 20  Differently, Ratinaud-Lachkar (2000) 253. 21  Scholars have long suspected that in the prehistoric period Helen was worshipped at Therapne as a nature goddess (e.g. Wide (1973 [1893]) 340–6; Nilsson [19673] 211; Wace and Thompson [1908–9] 109; Farnell [1921] 323ff.; Clader [1976] 69–80); or a goddess of the sun (West [1975]; Skutsch [1987] 189–91); see Edmunds [2016] 16–17). While the theory remains plausible in light of the Greek religious impulse in the archaic period to

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262  Menelaus in the Archaic Period but not limited to Artemis Orthia.22 Parker observes that the many ­horse-and-rider figures might even be taken instead as evidence of masculine (or martial) interests on the part of some worshipers.23 Herodotus’ story implies that the shrine at Therapne was politically important (cf. n. 19), which does not undermine its larger religious and cultural importance in Sparta—quite the contrary.24 At Athens, by contrast, in the mid- to late fifth century the cult at Therapne—to the extent that it was known at all—would on the evidence of Herodotus seem to have lost some political importance and become chiefly associated with Helen. Later fifth- and fourth-century Athenians’ probable ignorance of the status (and perhaps even the presence) of Menelaus at Therapne would explain Isocrates’ insistence on the point in his Helen. Isocrates abstains from making the outright claim that Helen is a goddess but does say that she has acquired ‘godlike power’ and is immortal (10. 61).25 He has an even more curious point to make about Menelaus. μετὰ δὲ ταῦτα τοσαύτην Μενελάωι χάριν ἀπέδωκεν ὑπὲρ τῶν πόνων καὶ τῶν κινδύνων οὓς δι᾽ ἐκείνην ὑπέμεινεν . . . οὐ μόνον αὐτὸν τῶν συμφορῶν τούτων ἀπήλλαξεν ἀλλὰ καὶ θεὸν ἀντὶ θνητοῦ ποιήσασα σύνοικον αὑτῆι καὶ πάρεδρον εἰς ἅπαντα τὸν αἰῶνα κατεστήσατο.  (10. 62) After this she [Helen] granted Menelaus so great a favour on account of his toils and the dangers which he endured for her . . . [that] not only did she release him from the misfortunes [of his family] but, having made him a god instead of a mortal, established him as a sharer of her home and partner on her throne for all time.

Isocrates ascribes to Helen the power to confer divinity (61). For all that Menelaus suffered on her behalf, Helen has detached him from his accursed family and made him an immortal god. Regarding the former benefaction, Menelaus’ distancing from the Pelopids, we shall have more to say in the conclusion to this study. The result of the latter (and arguably greater) gift of Helen is the granting of godhead to Menelaus so that he shares religious

re-purpose older cults for the now-ascendant Olympian gods, evidenced locally at Sparta in Orthia-Artemis and Hyacinthus-Apollo (cf. Mazarakis Ainian [1999] 11 with n. 16), Parker (2016) demonstrates the paucity of solid evidence for the hypothesis (esp. 5–6). 22  Cf. Langdon (2008) 279 with further bibliography at n. 133.    23  Parker (2016) 22–3. 24  Cf. Boedeker (1998) esp. 166–70.    25  Cf. Edmunds (2016) 178–9.

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The Cult of Menelaus and Helen at Therapne  263 honours with her as σύνοικος and πάρεδρος (62).26 Both receive religious tendance at Therapne ‘even now’, in Isocrates’ day, not as to heroes but as to gods. ἔτι γὰρ καὶ νῦν ἐν Θεράπναις τῆς Λακωνικῆς θυσίας αὐτοῖς ἁγίας καὶ πατρίας ἀποτελοῦσιν οὐχ ὡς ἥρωσιν ἀλλ’ ὡς θεοῖς ἀμφοτέροις οὖσιν. (Isoc. 10. 63)27 And even to this day at Therapne in Laconia they perform sacred and traditional sacrifices to them both not as to heroes but as to gods.

Lowell Edmunds dismisses the deification of Menelaus as Isocrates’ ­‘invention’.28 But we know from Alcman that Menelaus was honoured there in some religiously meaningful way already in the seventh century. Isocrates might reasonably have inferred Menelaus’ divinity from the fact and character of the cult. The city of the Spartans, where ‘they preserve the most ancient rites’ is called as a witness to Menelaus’ share in religious honours with Helen (63). Isocrates would seem to expect the claim that Menelaus is a god, and honoured as such, to be surprising to his (fourth-century) audience, which perhaps is why he puts such a point on it. But, so his argument goes, contemporary Spartans are known to maintain old religious traditions and they are his witnesses. Robert Parker (2016), assessing the testimonia and evidence, largely accepts Isocrates’ claim about Menelaus’ divinity. He further observes that the Menelaion, like the sanctuary of the unquestionably divine Artemis Orthia, has yielded none of the hero-relief plaques otherwise characteristic of Laconian hero-cult sites.29 Later authors record little about the nature of the archaic cult of Menelaus and Helen, but unequivocally demonstrate Menelaus’ place at Therapne. For Polybius, in the second century, Therapne is a local landmark with strategic, though not necessarily religious, importance (v. 18). Polybius refers to the spot as “the area around the Menelaion (τοὺς περὶ τὸ Μενελάιον τόπους v.  21.1). Livy also names the area for Menelaus (sub ipsas Menelai montis radices Livy xxxiv. 28). Pausanias provides a genealogical origin for the name 26  For πάρεδρος denoting proximity to the gods, cf. Pi. P. 4. 4 (of the Pythia, seated next to the eagles of Zeus); O. 2. 76 (of Rhadamanthys, councilor to Zeus); in the magical papyri it is used of assisting divinities, P.Mag. Berol. 1. 54, P.Mag. Lond. 121. 884; cf. Scibilia (2002) 76–9; Pachoumi (2017) 35–61. 27  Zajonz (2002) 277–83.    28  Edmunds (2016) 179. 29  Parker (2016) 2–3 with 2 n. 11; cf. Deoudi (1999) 26; Osborne (20092) 273: Menelaus and Helen were ‘actually given divine, not just heroic, honours’.

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264  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Therapne, deriving it from an eponymous daughter of Lelex. He, too, speaks of the shrine as dedicated to Menelaus (Μενελάου δέ ἐστιν ἐν αὐτῆι ναός iii. 19. 9).30 Ancient authors from the Hellenistic period and beyond remember Menelaus specifically as a recipient of honour at the site—in contrast to Herodotus whose treatment of this matter, as of others, might have been affected by the sorts of biases reflected in contemporary Athenian tragedy, a matter to which we shall return briefly in the conclusion.31 Pausanias, for his part, goes on to repeat what he has heard (‘they say’), that it is the site of the couple’s tomb (καὶ Μενέλαον καὶ Ἑλένην ἐνταῦθα ταφῆναι λέγουσιν)—which is quite the opposite of what Homer’s audiences in the archaic period would have conceived it to be.32

Fig. 5.1.  Sparta (Menelaion) 1976. The Classical Shrine of Helen. Catling (1976–7) 34, fig. 21. Used by permission. 30  Tomlinson (1992) 248–9, who regards Pausanias’ seeming lack of detailed knowledge about the Menelaion and its cult (in contrast to his lengthy description of e.g. the throne of Bathycles at nearby Amyclae) as reflecting the fact that ‘the Menelaion was in ruins in Pausanias’ time’ perhaps due to an earthquake in the late Hellenistic period. The work of Spawforth (forthcoming) on tile stamps suggests that a short-lived revival of the shrine took place in the early Augustan period (22–3). 31  Cf. Boedeker (1996) 225 with further bibliography at n. 9. 32  Cf. Parker (2016) 3.

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The Cult of Menelaus and Helen at Therapne  265

Material Evidence for the Cult of Menelaus and Helen at Therapne In modern terms Polybius’ Therapne indicates the spur of three hills, now termed the Menelaion ridge, along the east bank of the Eurotas River just south of Sparta. An archaic shrine, known as the Menelaion, sits atop the centre of the three hills near extensive ruins of a Mycenaean settlement.33 While the archaeology and its implications for understanding the nature of the cult have been discussed elsewhere34 the present study focuses at some length on the archaic levels, as best these can be discerned, and includes material provided in advance of the final publication of the archaic shrine (Menelaion II) by its editor Richard Catling and several contributors.35 The Bronze Age walls, which still would have been visible in the seventh century, fit Alcman’s description of the spot as εὐπύργω Σεράπνας.36 Archaeologists at least since Ludwig Ross (1833) have suspected that the ruins of the archaic and classical temple in the area just southeast of Sparta correspond to Polybius’ Menelaion and the ridge to ancient Therapne. Justly famous for its religious and historical importance in archaic Sparta, the Menelaion is also among the most often-illustrated archaic Laconian sites due to its photogenic nucleus and breathtaking backdrop.37 A large Mycenaean settlement underlies and surrounds the Menelaion. British School excavations at the site 2 km southeast of Sparta and in the adjoining countryside have revealed a settlement extensive over space and time.38 Occupation can be traced from the MH period until the early twelfth century.39 Decorated pottery in secure architectural contexts suggests that

33  The author wishes to acknowledge with gratitude the substantial contribution of R. Catling to the research presented here. Any errors or omissions are my own. 34  Esp. Antonaccio (1995) 155–66; Edmunds (2016) 174–84 focuses on Helen. 35  Anthony Spawforth has allowed me to review his (forthcoming) chapter on the inscriptions from the archaic Menelaion; Parker (2016) on the cult (now available at Academia.com). R. Catling generously shared with me an unpublished provisional new chronology based on a (2005) pottery study and provided considerable general assistance in the interpretation of the site (2013–15, pers. conv.; per litt.). 36  Catling (1976 –7) 34; Mazarakis Ainian (1999) 15. 37  e.g. the cover photo of Sanders, ed. (1992), taken by R. Catling (from the northeast, facing southwest towards Mt Taygetus); cf. Latacz et al., eds (2008) 97 fig. 9 (photo by H. Schmitz); Hall (20142) 233 (from the east). 38  e.g. the discovery of a number of MH–LHI tombs from the Psychiko Spartis field (formerly the Manouaki plot) directly opposite the Bronze Age Menelaion (Themos, Zavvou, and Efstathiou [2005] 159–75; cf. Whitley et al. [2005–6] 38). 39  Evidence for MH, Menelaion I: 11–12. Apart from a small cluster of MH burials, no ­cemetery associated with the site has yet been found.

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266  Menelaus in the Archaic Period settlement existed along the ridge through the end of the Bronze Age; peripheral occupation continued into the twelfth century.40 Important palatial buildings were constructed on the middle of the three hilltops (i.e. the ‘Menelaion Hill’) during the late fifteenth/early fourteenth centuries and it is probably no accident that the archaic cult was sited over these impressive remains.41 The nucleus of the archaic sanctuary is a natural outcropping of bedrock adjacent to the two excavated Mycenaean mansions on the hilltop.42 Mycenaean remains have been identified directly under the sanctuary as well.43 Present evidence is suggestive that the site was a major settlement area in the Late Bronze Age. The regional LBA palace complex corresponding to others such as Mycenae in fact seems to have been located elsewhere, probably at the Ayios Vasileios site south of Amyclae.44 But in the archaic period it was the still-impressive structures on the Menelaion ridge, just across the Eurotas from Sparta, that seem to have reminded Spartans of the palace of its legendary king.45 The Menelaion ridge appears to have been deserted after the end of the Mycenaean period. Material evidence for continuity of settlement, habitation, or other activity is lacking.46 Some have speculated that the natural rocky outcrop at the peak of Menelaion Hill—around which the archaic sanctuary was built—was the centre of Iron Age worship of a female nonOlympian (chthonic?) deity who was assimilated to Helen during the archaic period on the analogy of the nearby Laconian cults such as Orthia-Artemis and Hyakinthos-Apollo (and, further afield, Aphaia-Athena).47 If so, scant material evidence for such activity has been reported. When archaeologically visible activity along the ridge resumed in the later eighth or early seventh century on the central Menelaion Hill, the site was re-appropriated from a Late Mycenaean settlement into a shrine.48 And

40  The ‘vast majority’ of the decorated pottery is LH; Menelaion I: 336. 41  On the topography, cf. Menelaion I: 21–3. 42  Cf. Menelaion I: 1–2. For the architectural development of the site, Barber (1992) 11–13, 20; Pantou (2014). 43  Richard Catling has identified a Mycenaean wall fragment directly under the sanctuary ramp with associated LHIIIAI pottery (R. Catling [2005] 37; Menelaion I: 11). 44  Aravantinos and Vasilogamvrou (2012); Morgan (2013) 27–30; Rahe (2016) 108. 45  Cf. Dickinson (2017) 11.    46   Cf. Catling (1976 –7) 34. 47  Cf. Clader (1976) 69; Antonaccio (1995) 166; Parker (2016) 5, 9–10. Evidence for continuity of worship at sites from LBA/EIA continues to increase (de Polignac [2009] 428). 48  The establishment of a new cult building over Mycenaean ruins is consistent with a larger pattern on the Greek mainland in which new cult establishment often occurred at sites where the material record shows a marked discontinuity of habitation between the Late Bronze Age and the eighth century (Mazarakis Ainian [2004] 131; [2017] 102–5).

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The Cult of Menelaus and Helen at Therapne  267 although no definitive evidence has been found for a built shrine at this early date, the site was unmistakeably religious in nature from its first re-appearance in the eighth century.49 Cult activity is archaeologically visible from this point onward in depositional finds including votive figurines, pottery, and ash.50 These remains were discovered atop a stone floor in a stratified deposit in the first British School excavation of the Menelaion conducted in the early twentieth century.51 Further excavation of the site in the last quarter of the twentieth century demonstrated that in the late seventh or early sixth century the cult was endowed with a built shrine or sanctuary (Alcman’s ναός). The shrine was supported by stone pavement, terrace, and cistern. The overall lifespan of the cult site lasts from its first beginnings in the late eighth century through the second century bc when it came to a seemingly abrupt demise: the building was demolished and its materials and votives discarded in two dump sites, the cistern and the Great Pit (below).52 Once deserted the shrine was probably used as a quarry for building materials, most of which were probably removed from the site. Some architectural blocks were dumped in the cistern whereas the Great Pit primarily yielded the remains of building waste and votives cleared away from the shrine from the early sixth century bc onward. Tile stamps identical to those of the state shrine of Athena Chalkioikos (marked ΔΑ- i.e. damosios, ‘of the demos’), some perhaps dating to the late fifth century bc, suggest that it was a state sanctuary (contrast the tile stamps of Orthia, which bear the mark Ἱεροί).53 I shall discuss the stamps further below. In the report of the British School (1908–9) season, A. J. B. Wace and M.  S.  Thompson established the stratigraphy of the archaic shrine at the northeast corner (J9 Level 6) of the extant building.54 There Wace reports finding the ‘deepest deposit’ of material. Mycenaean sherds of ‘the latest 49  Cf. Antonaccio (1995) 155. 50  For the criteria, de Polignac (2009) 427. 51  Wace, Thompson, and Droop (1908–9) 109. 52  Pottery and coinage provide a terminus for the lifespan of the sanctuary: near the top of the fill in the cistern fill, one nearly complete Megarian bowl dated to the late second century with fragments of a second further down (Catling [1976 –7] 37–8). For the end of the use of the sanctuary, Catling (1975) 267. 53  Spawforth (forthcoming) 21(Type II); cf. Parker (2016) 2 n. 6, 22 n. 119. Tile-stamps classified at Wace (1906); Spawforth (forthcoming) EI–IV. See also Wace, Thompson, and Droop (1908–9) 113; Catling (1975) 266; R. Catling (1995) 321 n. 10; Shipley (1996) 222(f), 223 n. 26. Hellenistic tiles with the public stamp continue to be uncovered in the environs of the Menelaion (Aphissou; Themos, Zavvou, and Efstathiou [2005] 175–6; cf. Whitley [2005–6] 37). 54  Cf. Cavanagh and Laxton (1984) 34.

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268  Menelaus in the Archaic Period mainlaind class’ were found above virgin soil; above was a stone layer, perhaps (they surmised) part of a building. After more plain soil, they reported finding a beaten poros-chip floor ‘with which was a thin layer of carbonised matter’. The stratum directly above the floor included a ‘rich deposit’ of terracotta and bronze votive figurines with Geometric, Protocorinthian, and Laconian I pottery (i.e. eighth century through c.620).55 A ‘beaten poros floor’ with associated walls was reported above an intervening layer of pure soil over which they found a stratum ‘which was very rich in [votive] terracottas, lead figurines and bronzes’ with associated sixth- and early fifth-century pottery.56 Unfortunately the entire area was cleared away at this point, and so the renewed BSA excavations of the latter part of the twentieth century found no remnant of the upper part of this stratigraphic sequence.57 Catling (1976) opened trenches adjacent to the existing building and to its north, indicating a ‘somewhat different stratigraphic situation’ as well as previously unreported architectural elements and small Laconian black ground vessels.58 Wace and Thompson hypothesized three main phases from the early archaic through the classical period. The overall three-phase scheme was retained by Hector Catling and his team despite revisions in detail and overall chronology.59 As we shall see below, a revision of the dating is required by Richard Catling’s subsequent (2005) fieldwork at the site.60

Phase 1: Votive Deposition (Late Eighth/Seventh Century) As at other early sanctuary sites votive offerings provide the earliest evidence for cult at the Menelaion.61 Surface finds of archaic votive fragments first drew archaeologists’ attention to the site in the early nineteenth century.62 Numerous terracotta figurines were found along with pottery, bronze figurines, and pins and the lead plaques which are ubiquitous Laconian

55  On Boardman’s pottery dates, Boardman (1963) 4. 56  Wace, Thompson, and Droop (1908–9) 113–14; pl. 5. 57  Cavanagh and Laxton (1984) 23–4.    58  Catling (1976) 15. 59  Catling (1976 –7) 35–8. 60  See R. Catling (2005). The work is still under-reported: brief mention exists at Kennell (2010) 39; Cavanagh (2018) 66–7; cf. Hall (20142) 232; Flower (2018) 431–2, implying the former dating. 61  Snodgrass (1980) 33; Morgan (2009) 53; Whitley (2001) 99. For votive offerings as evidence for cult sites at Sparta, Raftopoulou (1998) 127. 62  Discussion at Wace, Thompson, and Droop (1908–9) 108–10.

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The Cult of Menelaus and Helen at Therapne  269 votive-types.63 Other votive types comparable to those of Artemis Orthia, the most important early Spartan sanctuary, were reported as well.64 On the basis of surface votive finds Wace hypothesized that a built structure of some sort existed in the late eighth/early seventh century.65 Wace reported finding ‘several’ large blocks of soft white poros stone, ‘carefully worked and shaped’. One of them bore a fragmentary inscription (ΑΡΤΑ- -).66 The blocks were associated with a rich level of late Geometric/early Laconian I/ Protocorinthian pottery and votives. Though no architectural evidence apart from these few blocks was reported, Wace hypothesized that an early shrine structure of soft poros stone was constructed there in the late eighth/ early seventh century. The later British School team found no evidence of this hypothetical built structure.67 Subsequent pottery studies from tests conducted at the east side of the sanctuary have revealed further evidence of a late eighth-/early seventh-century phase68 but the existence of a built structure in the latter eighth/early seventh century has been doubted.69

Phase 2: The Construction of the Sanctuary (Late Seventh/Early Sixth Century) A diminutive (approximately 5.5 × 8.5 m)70 but unmistakably monumental building was constructed of carefully cut hard poros stones sometime in the late seventh or early sixth century.71 H.  Catling styled the building the

63  Gill and Vickers (2001) report over 6,000 lead figurines from the Menelaion, vs 100,000+ at Artemis Orthia (229); cf. Cavanagh and Laxton (1984) 23. 64  The votive types at Orthia tend to be more numerous and better quality (Wace, Thompson, and Droop [1908–9] 116–17) and include types such as terracotta masks not represented at the Menelaion and other Laconian sanctuaries (cf. Dawkins, ed. [1929] 163–86); though underrepresented types were later uncovered at the Menelaion as well, Catling (1976) 14–15. 65  Wace, Thompson, and Droop (1908–9) 112. Soft poros seems to have been the stone of choice in early archaic Laconian temple building (cf. R. Catling [1995] 321). 66  To Artemis? Cf. Woodward (1908–9) 87 (no. 91); IG v, 1, 224; Spawforth (forthcoming) A4. 67  Hector Catling entertained the notion of a built structure during the first phase: ‘it need have been no more than an altar surrounded by an unsophisticated temenos wall; it probably stood on or very near the knoll’ but cautioned that his team ‘only located scraps of undisturbed deposits; the earlier excavators evidently cleared this horizon very thoroughly’, Catling (1976 –7) 35–6. 68  R. Catling (unpublished), Provisional Chronology based on first phase of pottery study, January 2005: A.3 East (X6, Level 5). 69  e.g. Cavanagh and Laxton (1984) 34. 70  Wace, Thompson, and Droop (1908–9) 112. 71  Compare the still-small foundations of the sixth-century temple of Artemis Orthia (Tomlinson [1992] 248); further afield, e.g. the apsidal Building II at Tegea (Mazarakis Ainian

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270  Menelaus in the Archaic Period ‘Old Menelaion’ to distinguish it from seemingly later conglomerate block-structures although it continued to be the sole sanctuary atop the site to the end of its existence; i.e. there was no ‘New Menelaion’. What remains of the naiskos are the foundations on top of the knoll surrounded by its still-intact platform first excavated by A. J. B. Wace.72 The foundation of the platform is encircled by a revetment wall of carefully cut conglomerate blocks almost 2 m in height.73 Architectural fragments found about the site indicate that the sanctuary was adorned with pediment, cornices, and tile roof and surmounted by a disc-acroterion.74 The floor of the sanctuary is not preserved and no trace of an altar has been found.75 A ramp beginning at the southwest corner led from the platform up to the naiskos, encircling the building.76 The overall space would have been large enough to comfortably seat cult statues of Helen and Menelaus, allowing for a cultic expression of Isocrates’ report that Helen made Menelaus σύνοικον αὑτῆι καὶ πάρεδρον (10. 62)—though, unsurprisingly, no trace of such statues has been found.77 A large bottle-shaped cistern was cut 2 m north of the sanctuary on the Menelaion Hill to supply the sanctuary with water, also very early in the life of the shrine. The cistern remained clean and apparently in use until the end of the life of the sanctuary. Its fill contained pottery and votive fragments dated from the late eighth through second centuries bc.78 Several subsidiary sites of votive deposition have been reported along the ridge. The first was discovered on the side of Menelaion Hill south of the sanctuary. The British School team discovered evidence for the site in 1985 on a narrow terrace below the sanctuary on the south slope of the hill.79 [1997] 80); the EIA apsidal temple of Hera Akraia at Perachora (Mazarkis-Ainian [1997] 63); see plans of early temples at Mazarakis Ainian (1997) figs 274–7; Parker (2016) 2. Laconian temple buildings tend to be smaller than those in sanctuaries elsewhere in the Peloponnese and Greece (R. Catling [1995] 323); the dimensions suggested by a fragmentary temple model from the British School excavation of Sparta environs early in the twentieth century are far smaller than the Menelaion (R. Catling [1995] 323 n. 27). 72  Wace, Thompson, and Droop (1908–9) 113–16; cf. Catling (1976 –7) 36–7. 73  Catling (1976 –7) reports that the naiskos with its original platform measures about 16 x 22 m (37); cf. Wace, Thompson, and Droop (1908–9) 110 (reporting 16.6 x 23.8 m). 74  Wace, Thompson, and Droop (1908–9) 110, 112; Catling (1976 –7) 35–6. 75  The beaten poros-chip floor reported by Wace outside of the terracing on the north and northeast sides is associated with a small house or store-chamber. The earliest pottery deposit atop the floor of the building was identified as sixth century, but the structure probably dates rather later; cf. Wace, Thompson, and Droop (1908–9) 113. 76  Catling (1976 –7) 37 with 38 fig. 31; Wace, Thompson, and Droop (1908–9) 110. 77  Tomlinson (1992) 249–53.    78 Catling (1976 –7) 36–8, 39 fig. 33. 79  R. Catling (1986) 205 with 214–15 figs 1, 2.

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The Cult of Menelaus and Helen at Therapne  271 Two trenches comprising an overall area of 84 m2 yielded much archaic votive material including pottery, bronze and terracotta figurines, and plaques.80 Richard Catling proposed a two-fold origin for this material: (1) hill-wash containing votives and a few architectural fragments eroded from the Menelaion sanctuary above; (2) a discrete site of deposition.81 That a discrete votive site existed on the terrace was indicated by a ‘stone debris deposit’ found at the very south and north areas of the excavated area.82 Underlying this level was a hard compacted level containing little pottery, the latest of which was reported to be late Helladic. The votive material found atop and amidst the ‘stone debris deposit’ dates no later than the end of the seventh century. All pottery was identified either as sub-Geometric or Laconian I along with Protocorinthian and Early Corinthian fragments. Richard Catling proposes that the stone debris layer represents the extant remains of Mycenaean structures (now otherwise lost) still present on the hillside in the early archaic period on the basis of the composition of the rubble (mud-brick and lime wall-plaster fragments).83 Further evidence for Mycenaean structures under the ramp of the archaic shrine has since been discovered.84 The seeming abandonment of this secondary spot of votive deposition by the end of the seventh century would coincide with the building of the Menelaion sanctuary.85 An additional archaic shrine seems to have existed on the west side of the neighbouring North Hill. There, as at the Menelaion proper, H.  Catling’s team found a deposit of archaic votive material adjacent to a small knoll. The votive material comprised miniature vases and ‘a very few fragmentary horse-and-rider terracottas of the sixth-century bc type’.86 In the absence of any later material Catling concluded that, like the spot on the hillside south of the Menelaion, the shrine was short-lived.

Phase 3: Extension of Terrace and Adornment of the Menelaion in Blue Limestone (Mid-Sixth Century) A second buttressing terrace of conglomerate blocks was added on the south and east sides of the Menelaion platform to reinforce the sanctuary, enlarging 80  R. Catling (1986) 206.    81  R. Catling (1986) 209–10. 82  The deposit, never more than one stone deep, contained stones, cobbles, and pebbles primarily of limestone along with schist, conglomerate, and poros. Mudbrick and lime wallplaster fragments were also identified, R. Catling (1986) 206, 210. 83  R. Catling (1986) 210.    84  R. Catling (2005) 37. 85  R. Catling (1986) 210.    86  Catling (1976 –7) 35, cf. 26 fig. 2.

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272  Menelaus in the Archaic Period the overall space of the ground plan to 26.5 × 19.5 m.87 Several adornments seem to have been added during this phase as well.88 Hard blue limestone and white marble stone fragments, including one containing the mark of a T-shaped clamp and another with a mason’s mark, would seem to indicate the presence of a triglyph on the sanctuary building89 or parapet of the retaining wall.90 Whilst Hector Catling followed Wace in assigning the second buttressing terrace to the fifth century, subsequent work suggests that the dating should be revised to the sixth century (see below).91 Roof tiles probably deposited early in the third century bc in ‘the Great Pit’ (a dump site located some distance [20 m northeast] from the shrine without any associated structure) may date to the classical period.92 Catling proposed that the tiles might have covered a wooden stoa although there is no evidence for a roofed structure on the site apart from the shrine itself.93 The tiles might indicate instead therefore a re-roofing of the Menelaion sanctuary during the fifth century if not later.94 Richard Catling’s (2005) report addressed the probable building phases and absolute dates of the sanctuary, indicating the need for a revision of those assigned by Wace and H. Catling to the [original] monumental terrace, ramp, and cistern.95 Two trial pits were opened on the west side in the fill of the ramp to obtain information as to the date of the monumental terrace system; a third in the fill behind the later terrace on the south side. The large foundation stones supporting the original terrace on the west side were discovered to cut into a Mycenaean wall that continued underneath the inner retaining wall of the ramp. A cobbled surface associated with this Mycenaean structure was covered with a deposit of burnt material including pottery, burnt bone, and carbonized wood, possibly indicating a LBA predecessor to the sanctuary.96 The fill inside the foundation of the ramp revealed nothing later than Subgeometric pottery of c.650–625 bc providing a terminus ante 87  Catling (1976 –7) 37 with figs 31–2; cf. Wace, Thompson, and Droop (1908–9) 110, 112; R. Catling (2005) 37. 88  R. Catling (2005) 37.    89  Wace, Thompson, and Droop (1908–9) 112. 90  Catling (1976 –7) 37. 91  Wace proposed that the buttress was constructed in response to the earthquake of 464 (Wace, Thompson, and Droop [1908–9] 112); Catling is more cautious: ‘the stability . . . evidently caused anxiety’ (Catling [1976 –7] 37). 92  The pit was untouched by Wace et al. and excavated by Catling and his team in 1974–6; with the cistern the pit supplied much of the post-Bronze Age architectural and votive finds (Catling [1976 –7] 37–40). 93  Catling (1976 –7) 41.    94  R. Catling per litt. (July 2014). 95  Preliminary report at R. Catling (2005). 96  R. Catling (2005) 37.

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The Cult of Menelaus and Helen at Therapne  273 quem for the construction of the original monumental terrace and ramp of c.625–600 bc.97 The fill underlying the second, buttressing terrace on the south and eastern edges of the platform revealed that the second terracing project also took place in the sixth—not fifth—century, as earlier excavators had supposed. R. Catling has reported that these findings necessitate nothing less than a ‘radical revision’ of the chronology first proposed by Wace and largely retained by his father. ‘The 1st terrace system, including the ramp, was very likely part of the original design which saw the construction of the naiskos on top of the knoll and can now be dated to the 7th Ct (c.650–625 bc). The extensions to the terrace on the S and E sides were added in the 6th Ct, most likely c.575–550 bc.’98 With these more recent finds it seems that the Menelaion sanctuary was conceived on a monumental though modest scale from its original construction in the late seventh century.99 The integral plan would have included: (1) the compact sanctuary building of dressed hard poros stone (the naiskos termed by H.  Catling the ‘Old Menelaion’) constructed around the knoll, adorned with antefixes and at least one acroterion; (2) a broad platform, supported by massive terrace walls of conglomerate blocks, that encircled the shrine on all sides and perhaps provided space for ritual dining or even dancing atop a sturdy foundation;100 (3) a ramp encased in the west and north sides of the terracing that gave access to this platform; (4) the nearby cistern to supply the shrine with a reliable source of water. The second buttressing terrace was constructed some fifty years or so after this massive building programme, around the mid-sixth century, at which time the blue limestone decorative elements seem to have been added as well. The strength of the platform and terracing was such, it seems, that the entire substructure was retained, along with the naiskos itself, for the lifespan of the sanctuary.101 Public investment by the Spartan polis from the archaic period onward is evidenced by the stamped tiles found on site.102 Spawforth describes four types of stamped roof tiles identifying them as public property. The stamps

97  R. Catling (2005) 37; priv. conv. May 2013.    98  R. Catling (2005) 37. 99  Cf. Cavanagh (2018) 66–7.    100  Cf. Tomlinson (1992) 252–4. 101  With the new chronology Wace’s hypothesis regarding the cause for the second terrace (i.e. the earthquake of 464) must also be revised; the massive construction of terrace, ramp, and cistern atop the hill might have undermined the integrity of the rather narrow space on which the sanctuary is located and prompted the construction, not long afterwards, of the second buttressing terrace. 102  Spawforth (forthcoming) 18–20.

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274  Menelaus in the Archaic Period reflect three chief roofing phases of the sanctuary.103 The first type of stamp, Ἀ(θάνας?), survives in only one complete example and has no date assigned.104 The second type, Δ(αμόσιος) Ἀ(θάνας), the most frequently ­represented stamp on the many tiles found in a dump on the north side of the Menelaion (‘the tile pit’), has been dated epigraphically to the mid- to late fifth century.105 Δαμόσιος Ἀθάνας Νι(----), dated to the third century bc, is a stamp type commonly found at Sparta and suggests that a Hellenistic re-roofing of the Menelaion was undertaken as part of a wider Spartan building programme.106 The fourth and latest type, Ἐπὶ Ἀρχικλέος, dates to the later first century bc.107 Further evidence for state investment in the sanctuary during the archaic period may be inferred from the (previously unpublished) report of a blackslipped drinking cup bearing the fragmentary incised inscription Δα(μόσιος vel –α), tentatively dated to the 6th c.108 Spawforth reports that the text, as reconstructed, ‘is a well-known type denoting that the inscribed object was state property’. Analogous examples may be found from the Athenian agora and Spawforth accordingly comments that this example ‘confirms the public character of the sacred meals which took place in the sanctuary of the Menelaion’.109 Private investment in the sanctuary is indicated by the numerous, mostly humble, pots and votive objects, several of which are inscribed (below),110 along with a small number of inscriptions on stone (including an almost complete dedicatory inscription to Menelaus (A7 Spawforth = Fig. 5.3; below).111 Three non-joining inscribed fragments of a previously unpublished perirrhanterion base (A2 Spawforth) are analogous to perirrhanteria fragments uncovered at the sanctuary of Artemis Orthia and, further afield, to the mid-seventh-century base at the temple of Poseidon at Isthmia. The discovery of the base for a washing-vessel suggests that ritual washing might have taken place, though the date of the Menelaion fragment is uncertain.112 103  See Spawforth (forthcoming), 19–23; his analysis is consistent with the observations of A. J. B. Wace and A. M. Woodward in the Orthia reports; cf. Wace (1905–6) 347–8; Woodward (1906–7) 17–18; Woodward (1928) 237. 104  Spawforth (forthcoming) 23. 105  Spawforth (forthcoming) 21 with n. 40, 24–5. 106  Spawforth (forthcoming) 22–3, 26–7.    107  Spawforth (forthcoming) 21–3. 108  Spawforth (forthcoming) DI. 1, 13–14. 109  Spawforth (forthcoming) 14; cf. R. Catling (1986) 213; Parker (2016) 2 with n. 6. 110  Inscriptions on bronze, Spawforth CI–II; inscriptions on pottery, DI–II. 111  Inscriptions on stone dateable to the seventh, sixth, or early fifth century are found at Spawforth (forthcoming) A 1–7. 112  Spawforth (forthcoming) with discussion at 2–4; cf. R. Catling (1986) 212 n. 1.

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The Cult of Menelaus and Helen at Therapne  275 R. Catling’s (2005) revision of the building phases and chronology invites a reconsideration of the historical factors involved in the monumentalization of the site. It would seem that Menelaus and Helen were already of sufficient importance to Spartans in the seventh century that a monumental— albeit diminutive—sanctuary was conceived and built, consistent with local Laconian trends in religious architecture, to house a joint cult.113 The late seventh-century dating corresponds to the first phase of the cult of Artemis Orthia and coincides with the literary evidence: Alcman frr. 4–5 indicates that the cult at Therapne involved choral song and dance. A pavement and terrace system constructed in the seventh-/early sixth-century, as the evidence now seems to indicate, would have provided the necessary space.

Inscriptions and the Cult of Menelaus The material evidence for public and private investment described above is consistent with literary evidence attesting to a vigorous local cult of Menelaus and Helen at Therapne during the archaic period and beyond.114 Among the relatively modest number of inscribed objects on stone, bronze, or pottery uncovered at or near the Menelaion and dateable from the seventh century to early fifth century bc several named dedications both to Helen and Menelaus have been found.115 Helen’s name is secure or restored on at least five objects dateable to the period.116 Menelaus’ name occurs nearly as often, securely identified117 in fragmentary inscriptions dated to the archaic period on three objects found at or near the Menelaion: two bronze vase fragments (CI 1, 4 Spawforth) and a blue limestone stele (A7 Spawforth).118 113  No Spartan sanctuary of the late archaic or classical period yet known follows the largescale peripteral style; Tomlinson (1992) 253; cf. R. Catling (1995) 323. 114  Dedications continue well beyond the temporal horizon of this study, through the fourth century and on into the Hellenistic period, until the seeming end of the cult by the early first century bc. Material evidence and literary testimonia from these later centuries also cohere; cf. the stamped roof tiles bearing the mark of the Spartan state, Spawforth (forthcoming) E1 (19–23); Wace, Thompson, and Droop [1908–9] 113; for the distinction between state-maintained shrines and those reliant on private trustees, Wace [1906] 349, (1907) 31. 115  Three dedicator-names are preserved: Deini[s] (seventh century) (Inscr. 1); Ankaidas (sixth century), SEG 35–319; Euthykrines (Inscr. no. 3). 116  SEG 35–320 [- - -]Λ̣ΕΝ[- - -]; 28–407 ϝε[- - -]; 26–457 ϝ̣ε̣λ̣έν̣α̣ι̣); 36–356 [ϝε]λέ[ναι]; 26–458 τᾶι ϝελέναι. 117  Ratinaud-Lachkar (2000) 253 is unduly skeptical. 118  To these three already published Menelaus-inscriptions a fourth, previously unpublished, dedication may be added from Anthony Spawforth’s study of the Menelaion inscriptions (= Spawforth CI 3a–c). Hector Catling reconstructed a dedication to Menelaus

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276  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Inscription no. 1. Miniature Bronze aryballos (CI 1 Spawforth; SEG 26–457). To Helen wife of Menelaus (c.600 bc). The earliest inscribed votive offering reported from the Menelaion is a small oval-shaped bronze aryballos about 7.5 cm in height (Fig. 5.2).119 Miniature terracotta vases were popular votive objects at the Menelaion and other Laconian sanctuaries as well as elsewhere in the Peloponnese during the archaic period. The aryballos is a commonly-found shape.120 The excavators considered this example closest in size and shape to Middle Protocorinthian aryballoi and therefore dated it to the second quarter of the seventh century.121 Miniature vases in bronze and other precious metals are far less common; the excavators noted several parallels. Although the vase shape seems to have originated in Corinth, Catling and Cavanagh suggested that it was of Laconian fabric due to the tendency of Laconian potters to imitate Corinthian forms.122 Laconian bronze work was exceptionally fine during the seventh century.123

Δ̣ εῖνι[ς] ͻ τάδ᾽ ἀνέθεκε ͻ Χαρι̣ [.] ͻ ϝ̣ε̣λ̣έν̣α̣ι̣ Μενελά ϝο̣ ͻ

boustrophedon → ← →124

The inscription is scratched in a spiral on the mouth of the aryballos in archaic script125 with several typically Laconian features.126 In the editio princeps Catling and Cavanagh reported that the inscription appeared to be ([—Μενε]λα ϝο[ι—] CI 3a), perhaps ‘from the Lacedaemonians’ (CI 3c), from the few remaining letters of an incised inscription extending retrograde across three non-joining lip fragments of a bronze lebes-type vessel. The reconstruction remains uncertain until full publication occurs; if it is correct, Spawforth notes that it would be the first known dedication by the Spartan state at the Menelaion, suggestive of a greater importance in the archaic period than previously has been understood; see Spawforth (forthcoming) 12–13; cf. Laconia Survey II: 219–21. 119  Editio princeps: Catling and Cavanagh (1976); cf. Catling (1976) 14; Catling (1977) 36–7; Robert (1978) 614; Spawforth (forthcoming) 10–11 with further bibliography. 120  Tod and Wace (1906) 225; Wace and Thompson 1908–9: 146; Dawkins (1929) 55; R. Catling (1996) 84–5. 121  Catling and Cavanagh (1976) 149 with n. 17. 122  Catling and Cavanagh (1976) 149 n. 19.    123  Hodkinson (1998) 102–5. 124  SEG 26–457. 125  For another inscribed aryballos-rim, Jeffery (LSAG2 366 no. 75; cf. Catling and Cavanagh [1976] 149 n. 20). 126  Laconian features include a distinctive punctuation mark, ‘red’ chi, and guide lines (Catling and Cavanagh [1976] 149–52; LSAG2 183–4; 446 (Suppl. no. 3a).

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The Cult of Menelaus and Helen at Therapne  277

Fig. 5.2.  Inscribed bronze aryballos from the Menelaion, Sparta. To Helen, wife of Menelaus. c.600 bc. Catling and Cavanagh (1976) 148, fig. 1. Used by permission.

contemporary with the aryballos and was thus probably the earliest extant inscription in the Laconian dialect.127 The date is maintained in the publication of the inscription in SEG.128 Johnston considered the inscription 127  Catling and Cavanagh (1976) 151. 128  Cf. SEG Online (A.  Chaniotis, T.  Corsten, N.  Papazarkadas, and R.  A.  Tybout, eds (https://referenceworks-brillonline-com.proxy01.its.virginia.edu/entries/supplementum-

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278  Menelaus in the Archaic Period slightly later (end of the seventh century).129 Richard Catling further ­proposes that the late sixth-century context of a very similar fragmentary Laconian pointed aryballos excavated in the 1985 season ‘may lend support to [the] lower date . . . for the [bronze] vase and inscription’.130 Spawforth notes that the inscription would, on the lower dating, seem to have occurred considerably after the manufacture of the aryballos, by which time he proposes that the object perhaps had acquired ‘heirloom’ status.131 Although Helen, not Menelaus, is the dedicatee of the inscription, the inclusion of Menelaus’ name tells us something important. The dedicator, ‘Deini[s]’, chose to identify Helen by the name of her husband. Helen here receives a token of religious honour precisely as Menelaus’ wife.132 The choice is not fortuitous: her name might have been inscribed by itself.133 Or she could have been identified her by a patronymic (‘daughter of Tyndareus’).134 The patronymic would have emphasized her own ancestral place at Sparta. Instead, Helen’s identity is defined by her relationship to Menelaus, which perhaps suggests that Menelaus already was a figure of some importance to the dedicator or the community. Rudolph Wachter follows a suggestion by Anna Morpurgo-Davies that the inscription might be read as a hexameter.135 The inscription includes such ‘poetic’ features as the reference to Helen without the use of a definite article, a device Morpurgo-Davies considered typical of verse- rather than prose-inscriptions.136 Menelaus’ name, too, is spelled with uncontracted epigraphicum-graecum/seg-26-457-menelaion-dedication-to-helen-ca-675-650-bca26_457?s.num=2&s.f.s2_parent=s.f.book.supplementum-epigraphicum-graecum&s. q=26.457); date followed by Antonaccio (1995) 157–8 with n. 40. 129  Cf. LSAG2 446 (3a) (‘c.600?’); 448; thus too Guarducci, Epigrafia Greca, Vol. I: 279–80 (at Catling and Cavanagh [1976] 151 n. 21). 130  R. Catling (1992) 66, 67 fig. 18, 45. 131  Spawforth (forthcoming) 11; cf. Cartledge (2001 [orig. pub. 1978]) 40–1. 132  Cf. Parker (2016) 2, 21. 133  Cf. the inscription on the curious bronze votive object (harpax) dated to c.575 bc, seemingly a model of a meathook (CI 2 Spawforth); Catling and Cavanagh (1976) 153–7; cf. SEG 26–458; Antonaccio (1995) 158 with n. 40 (575–550 bc); Edmunds (2016) 182 fig. 30. 134  Cf. [Hes.] fr. 198. 20 (Τυνδαρίδηισιν). 135  Wachter (2001) 264–5 (§251). Morpurgo-Davies reconstructed the verse: Δεῖνι[ς] τάδ’ ἀνέθε¯κε χάρ[ι]ν� Ϝ ̣ ε̣λ̣έ̣̣νᾱ̣̣ι Μενελᾱ́ ́ϝο̣̄ (as reported at Catling and Cavanagh [1976] 152; cf. Wachter [2001] 264). Catling and Cavanagh offer parallels for unusual features such as the use of the feminine pronoun and the omission of ν before a consonant (Catling and Cavanagh [1976] 152 n. 27). 136  Cf. the presence of the definite article in other Therapne inscriptions to Helen and Menelaus.

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The Cult of Menelaus and Helen at Therapne  279 intervocalic digamma (–λαϝο) for the Doric contracted genitive (–λα).137 Wachter considers the notion of an epic squib, though plausible, still not certain due to the conflicting nature of the evidence from vase painting.138 Inscription no. 2. Bronze phiale-rim (CI 4 Spawforth; SEG 35–321).139 To Menelaus (sixth century bc). Not pictured In the 1985 BSA season a fragment of a sixth-century bronze phiale was uncovered bearing an inscription incised upside-down below the rim (not pictured). The inscription reads: [– – – – το͂]ι Μενέλαι

In the initial excavation report Hector Catling stated that the fragment might date from the ‘early years . . . in the life of the sanctuary’ due to the presence of late Geometric, Transitional, and Laconian I pottery in the same deposit.140 In its editio princeps, Richard Catling places the inscription in the sixth century.141 Note the absence of intervocalic digamma in this normal Doric spelling of Menelaus’ name (Μενέλαι) by contrast with the presence of digamma in the form of the name on the aryballos-inscription above (Μενελάϝο). The uncontracted form with digamma is not necessarily the more ancient. The contracted form (Menelas) also appears on the Protoattic stand from Aegina dating to the mid-seventh century (Fig. 4.9) and in Argive script on the ‘Euphorbos plate’ (Fig. 4.10; cf. pp. 228–32). Inscription no. 3. Blue limestone stele (A7 Spawforth; SEG 26–459), To Menelaus (early fifth century bc). In 1976, the BSA team discovered a small blue limestone stele in the primary silting level at the bottom of the cistern five metres beyond the north

137  On the preservation of intervocalic digamma, Wachter (2001) §506 esp. 337–8; 264 n. 894. 138  Wachter (2001) 264 n. 894. 139  R.  Catling (1986) 212; H.  W.  Pleket and R.  S.  Stroud, ‘SEG 35-320-321. Menelaion. Dedications to Helen and Menelaos’, in SEG, current editors: A. T. N. R.A. Chaniotis Corsten Papazarkadas Tybout. Consulted online on 23 March 2018 http://dx.doi.org.proxy01.its.­virginia. edu/10.1163/1874-6772_seg_a35_320_321. First published online: 1985. 140  Catling (1985–6) 29. 141  R. Catling (1986) 212; cf. Spawforth (forthcoming) 13.

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280  Menelaus in the Archaic Period

Fig. 5.3.  Inscribed blue limestone stele from the Menelaion, Sparta. Euthykrines to Menelaus, early fifth century bc. Catling (1976–7) 37, fig. 28. Used by permission.

terrace wall of the Menelaion (Fig. 5.3). It bore a nearly complete inscription to Menelaus.142 Spawforth (forthcoming) provides the first discussion of 142  The dedicator’s name is transcribed erroneously as ‘Euthikrenes’ in the editio princeps (Catling [1976–7] 36) and misspelled (Εὐθυκρένες) at SEG 26–459; the correct spelling is reported by Robert in BCH (REG 91: 417 no. 203) and may be found at Spawforth (forthcoming) 6; with thanks to R. Catling, priv. corr., May 2014.

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The Cult of Menelaus and Helen at Therapne  281 lines 8–9 which though visible in the photograph accompanying the editio princeps, were unpublished.143 Εὐθυκρίνες ἀνέθεκε τ͂οι Μενέλαι. vac. vac.   5 vac. vac. ΗΑΓΙΕΙ [– – – – –]

In the editio princeps H. Catling dated the fragment and its inscribed dedication to the early fifth century based on its lettering and the other pottery in the deposit.144 Catling proposed that the stele would have been mounted with ‘a large bronze statuette––a lion perhaps, or sphinx, to judge from the lead-filled cuttings for the tenons by which the bronze was attached’.145 The inscription indicates that Menelaus continued to receive cult worship at least into the fifth century. The inscriptions discussed here complete the picture delineated by the testimonia and implied by archaeology: Menelaus received cult honours in his own right at the shrine by the sixth century at the latest (cf. Inscr. no. 2; CI 4 Spawforth) and his tendance continued at least into the fifth century (cf. Inscr. no. 3 [Fig. 5.3]). Menelaus was integral to Helen’s identity on a votive from the late seventh/early sixth century (cf. Inscr. no. 1 [Fig. 5.2]). The latter inscription, taken in concert with Alcman, indicates that the cult of Menelaus along with Helen was well underway by the end of the seventh century.146 Present material evidence suggests that this cult was consistent with Greek religious practice elsewhere. It might have included sacrifice at an altar,

143  Spawforth (forthcoming) 6; cf. Catling (1976/7) 37 fig. 28. 144  Catling (1976–7) 36; ‘early fifth century’ (SEG); cf. Spawforth (forthcoming) 6. 145  Catling (1976–7) 36; cf. 37 fig. 29; the lion and sphinx were votive types found at other Laconian sanctuaries (e.g. Dawkins [1929] 197–284 passim) as at the Menelaion (Wace, Thompson, and Droop [1908–9] 119). 146  Cf. Catling (1976–7) 36–7: ‘[w]e are thus assured that both Menelaus and Helen were separate recipients of dedications at the shrine, and it is even possible that each of them had their own altar’; cf. Antonaccio (1995) 155.

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282  Menelaus in the Archaic Period the deposit of offerings, and ritual feasting.147 If rather small for athletic contests, the terrace would have provided ample space for the ritual song and dance seemingly implied—at least for Helen—by the fragments of Alcman (Alcm. frr. 4–5, 19. 12–13).148 Specifically masculine (or martial) concerns might be signalled by the preponderance of horse-and-rider lead votives, but as to the specifics a ‘black hole’ remains in our k­ nowledge of Menelaus’ cult.149 The precise ritual involved in the cult  remains unknown, as is the question as to whether Menelaus received worship at the shrine separate from Helen. H.  Catling proposed early on  that a ­separate altar might have existed150 and the ‘stone debris deposit’ excavated in 1985 does seem to point to at least one secondary site of votive deposition to Menelaus and/or Helen on the site during the seventh century.151 The single heroic name, Menelaus, on the Protoattic dinos stand (Fig. 4.9) led Gloria Ferrari to speculate that Menelaus—no less than Helen—was commemorated at Sparta by choral song. Ferrari proposes that the contracted Doric form of the name (ΜΕΝΕΛΑΣ) ‘is Doric for the same reason that at Euripides’ Rh. 257 the chorus sings heloi Menelan: the use of the non-Attic long alpha is required by the genre, that is, choral lyric’.152 That this ingenious suggestion has not been widely accepted does not minimize the importance of Ferrari’s attempt to explain the peculiarities of the vase and its inscription as noted above: not only the presence of a name in the figural space of the vase, but a name in the Doric dialect, and specifically the name Menelaus.153 Nearly the same puzzle, in reverse, is involved in the interpretation of the epic/­uncontracted Ionic form of

147  Evidence for ritual dining, Tomlinson (1992) 253–4; Antonaccio (2005) 103, 106–7; Spawforth (forthcoming) 14, 20. Dining is the ritual sine qua non in hero cult (e.g. Ekroth [2002] 13–14). Evidence for ritual washing, Spawforth (forthcoming) 3–4. 148  Cf. Tomlinson (1992) 253. 149  Parker (2016) 22. 150  The presence of another inscribed votive (Ἀνκαιδας με ἀνέθεκε SEG 35–319) in the same deposit, also dated to c.600 b c, suggests at least that the dedication was not an isolated phenomenon; cf. Catling [1985 –6] 29; R. Catling (1986) 212; Spawforth (forthcoming) 4. 151  R.  Catling (1986) 210–11. The nature of the cult implied by depositional activity at a third site on the adjoining hill along the spur (Aetos) is unknown. 152  Ferrari (2008) 15. 153  Cf. the use of the same contracted Doric form on the ‘Euphorbos plate’ (Fig. 4.10), unsurprising in the Doric dialectal environment of its find-spot though contrastive with the plainly heroic (if not Homeric) narrative subject.

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The Cult of Menelaus and Helen at Therapne  283 Menelaus’ name (Μενελάϝο) on the bronze aryballos dedicated at roughly the same time at the Menelaion (Fig. 5.2), perhaps even in a hexameter. These two seventh-century artefacts (Figs 4.9, 5.2), so disparate in fabric, find spot, and function, do not ‘prove’ that Menelaus was the subject of (otherwise unattested) choral or epic poetry. But that the contracted Doric form (ΜΕΝΕΛΑΣ) was known to, and chosen by, a Protoattic vase painter while an otherwise-unknown votary ‘Deinis’ chose the uncontracted epic/ Ionic form (Μενελάϝο) to inscribe on a votive placed at the Laconian shrine on the hills above the Eurotas River suggests that Menelaus enjoyed a cultic and epic identity early on, expressible in various dialects and letter forms by votaries and poets alike.154 If S. Morris and others are right that sixth-century Athenian vase painting reflects themes and iconographic preferences established earlier by artists in the Peloponnese or even in Sparta, Menelaus’ prominence and stature in archaic art (both with and without Helen) might indirectly reflect the cultic importance of the hero in seventh- and early sixth-century Sparta.155 ‘An important result of the [later twentieth-century] excavations . . . has been to reclaim the “Menelaion” in some measure for its eponym.’156 One potential function of religious cult, like epic poetry and art, is to legitimate contemporary political claims.157 Sometime in the latter part of the seventh century, perhaps after the conquest of Messenia, it would seem that the r­ ulers of the burgeoning Spartan state built the Menelaion to lay religious claim to the Homeric king Menelaus who, through marriage, had made Sparta his home. The state provided the naiskos with space to support the cult and its adherents: terrace and ramp, platform, and cistern. Later, in the sixth century, Spartans added additional terracing at the southeast corner to ensure its stability and adorned the naiskos or the terrace walls surrounding it with blue limestone elements. A second roofing project, perhaps in the fifth c­ entury, indicates ongoing state investment in the sanctuary. The cult of Menelaus, comments Nafissi, ‘presupposes and sanctions’ Menelaus as rightful inheritor of

154  Cf. the use of the epic/uncontracted Ionic form (Μενέλᾱϝος) as against the Corinthian dialectal colouring of the other heroic names on the Corinthian ‘Astarita krater’ (Fig. 4.11). The choice of dialectal form to ‘mark’ Menelaus as an epic hero persists long past the archaic age: cf. Higbie (2003) 169. 155  S. Morris (2014) 7; cf. Shapiro (1990) 116–17.    156  Parker (2016) 22. 157  e.g. Mazarakis Ainian (1999) 34.

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284  Menelaus in the Archaic Period kingship from Tyndareus and ruler over the territory of Laconia. Menelaus, on this reading, ‘bestows panhellenic legitimacy upon the claims of the Heraclid kings’.158 And so we turn to Simonides, who at the end of the archaic period confirms Menelaus’ place in the glorious Spartan and panHellenic victory at Plataea. 158  Nafissi (2009) 118–19; cf. Malkin (1994) 43, 46–7; Hall (2000) 85.

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6

Menelaus Εὐρυβίης Simonides’ ‘Plataea Elegy’ The cult at Therapne reflects the local importance of Menelaus within Sparta and Laconia in the archaic period.1 Paul Cartledge comments that the construction of the Menelaion, along with its two major city sanctuaries to Artemis and Athena, signalled ‘both materially and spiritually the emergence of the Spartan polis’.2 Sometime not long after the Greek defeat of the Persian army at Plataea, Simonides composed an elegy to commemorate this world-historical event in ostentatiously epic terms (Simon. fr. 11 W2).3 Menelaus makes an appearance in the elegy, with the Dioscuri, as patron of the Spartan contingent. The intriguing poem provides our final glimpse of Menelaus as the archaic period draws to a close. It suggests that Menelaus’ place in the cultic environment of archaic Sparta was matched by a significant role in Spartans’ self-definition. Long before the publication of the ‘new’ Simonides elegy (1992), Hector Catling suggested (1976) that a connection existed between the expansion of the Menelaion and Spartan ‘exhilaration’ in the early fifth century over their leading role in the defeat of the Persians. ‘It would be natural, particularly with Leonidas and his band in mind, to dedicate such a building simultaneously as a memorial to a warrior-king and as a thank-offering to Menelaus, the national military hero, for their final triumph at Plataea.’4 We have seen that the Menelaion shrine was already conceived on a monumental scale from the late seventh/early sixth century bc, according to the revised dating of Richard Catling (2005). But though the dating of H.  Catling’s hypothesis regarding the expansion of the shrine may have been mistaken, Simonides’ poem provides literary support for Catling’s view of the importance of Menelaus to Spartans’ memorialization of the battle of Plataea.5 1  Cf. Whitley (1994): 220–1. 2  Cartledge (2001) 173. 3  Thiel (2011); cf. Parsons (1992) (editio princeps); printed in W2; West (1993). 4  Catling (1976 –7) 42; a view that continues to be held, cf. Flower (2018) 431–2. 5  Cf. R. Catling (2002) 218 n. 121; Parker (2016) 23. Menelaus in the Archaic Period: Not Quite the Best of the Achaeans. Anna R. Stelow, Oxford University Press (2020). © Anna R. Stelow. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780199685929.001.0001

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286  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Simonides describes the recent victory at Plataea as comparable to, if not as great as, the Trojan War (Simon. fr. 11. 13–14 W2). The proem cul­min­ates in an invocation to the war’s foremost hero Achilles in a quasi-hymnic address (19).6 The epic/Homeric tone and invocation of Achilles paint the victory at Plataea as pan-Hellenic.7 A pro-Spartan undercurrent has been detected as well.8 On this reading the elegy was composed to celebrate the role of Sparta and the Peloponnesian League in the battle of Plataea and the occasion of its performance was a funeral commemoration of the Spartans who died at there.9 Achilles is clearly important in the proem. But he does not appear again in the elegy as we have it. The narrative account of the Greeks’ recent victory begins, instead, with the Dioscuri and Menelaus. οἳ μὲν ἄρ᾽ Εὐ]ρώτ̣αν κα[ὶ Σπάρτη]ς ἄστυ λιπόντ[ες ὥρμησαν] Ζηνὸς παισὶ σὺν ἱπποδάμοις Τυνδαρίδα]ι̣ς ἥρωσι καὶ εὐρυβίηι Μενελάω[ι . . . . . πατ]ρ̣ώιης ἡγεμόνες π[ό]λ̣εος, (29–32)10 And they, having left behind the Eurotas and the city of Sparta, set out with the horse-breaking sons of Zeus, the Tyndarid heroes, and wide-ruling Menelaus, the leaders of the ancestral city . . . .

Menelaus, as is his wont, has been somewhat overlooked in scholarly discussion of the elegy.11 Yet he is in the foreground as the narrative section opens, and his name is among the lucky few securely preserved names in the fragment.12 When an epic exemplar with the stature of Achilles is at hand, one might wonder, why mention the lesser of the Atreidae: the one who did not lead the Achaeans to Troy? Herodotus’ Suagros considered Agamemnon the Homeric hero most likely to be concerned with Spartan 6  Cf. Parsons (1992) 28–32; West (1993) 4–6; cf. Obbink (2001) 65–85; Kowerski (2005) 65–6; Thiel (2011) 382–3 with further bibliography at nn. 10–11. 7  Cf. Boedeker (1995) 217–29, (2001b) 153–4; Kowerski (2005) 102–6; Rawles (2018) 86–90. 8  Thiel (2011) 390–1. 9 Thiel (2011) 385–6; cf. Aloni (2001) 102–5; Shaw (2001) 178–81. Differently, Mayer (2007) 373–88; West (1993) 5. 10  οἳ . . .] (29) suppl. West; ὥρμησαν] (30) suppl. Parsons; see Sider (2001) 20 app. crit. 11  Incisive but brief comments at Parsons (1992) 35; Lloyd-Jones (1994) 3; Hornblower (2001) 146–7; Rutherford (2001) 46–7. 12  Secure are Danaoi (14), Pieridae (16), Nereus (20), Muse (21), Zeus (30), Menelaus (31), Pausanias (34), Pelops the Tantalid (36), supplements for Patroclus (6), Apollo (8), Priam (10), Paris (11), Tyndarids (31), Cleombrotus (33), Nisus (37), Pandion (41), Kekrops (42). Cf. Kowerski (2005) esp. 4, 64–7.

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Menelaus Εὐρυβίης  287 leadership of the Greek army (vii. 159. 1).13 What, as Simon Hornblower has asked, is Menelaus doing at Plataea?14 His appearance as co-leader of the Spartan army, with the Dioscuri (30–1), is also without parallel.15 The Alcman fragment discussed above pertains only to their collocation in cult (fr. 19). The only extant literary reference to Menelaus and the Dioscuri together as patrons of Sparta appears in an imperial-era philosophical text.16 Simonides’ novel choice of the un-Homeric epithet, εὐρυβίης (31), is also curious. Parsons wondered, appropriately, ‘Was the epithet here (ad v31) conventional, or did it make some point?’17 Simonides has departed somewhat from Homeric usage as well in describing the Dioscuri as ἱπποδάμοις / Τυνδαρίδα]ι̣ς (30–1). The patronymic does not appear in Homer.18 The p ­ lural epithet ἱπποδάμοις (30), by contrast, has solid Homeric credentials, but never modifies the Dioscuri together.19 The plural form most often modifies the Trojans; the singular ἱππόδαμος, is used of Castor in Homer and the Cypria, whereas Pollux receives semantically different epithets (πὺξ ἀγαθός [Il. 3. 237; Od. 11. 300]; ἀεθλοφόρον Cypr. fr. 15. 6).20 13 Cf. Cartledge (1987) 357; Parsons (1992) 35; countered by Lloyd-Jones (1994) 3; Hornblower (2001) 146–7. Ἀτρεΐδηισι refers to the leaders with Menestheus of the expedition to Troy at ‘Simon.’ 40(a) FGE; Boedeker (2001a) 126. 14  Hornblower (2001) 147. Heracles is the Spartan proto-hero in Tyrtaeus’ elegiac poem celebrating a contemporaneous Spartan victory, Tyrtaeus fr. 11 W2 (Ἡρακλῆος . . . ἀνικήτου γένος 11.1 W2); cf. Tyrt. 8 W2 (ap. Str. 8. 4. 10); Simon. fr. 13. 9–10 W2 (the Medes oppose ‘the sons of Doros and Heracles’). Heracles’ importance in archaic Sparta is also evident in sixthcentury Laconian vase painting where he is the most frequently depicted mythological figure, appearing proportionally more often on Laconian than on Corinthian black-figure vases (Pipili [1987] 1–13, 83; Boardman [1992]; Powell [1998] 126–7). 15  Theognis names the Dioscuri alone as local patrons of Sparta (Theogn. 1087–8); Herodotus implies that only the Dioscuri (not Menelaus) accompany the Spartans kings in battle, apparently one for each king (Hdt. v. 75. 1–2). Parsons takes Herodotus to later imply that only one king (Pleistarchus) was at Plataea (Hdt. ix. 10. 2 with Parsons [1992] 35); Hornblower suggests instead that neither king was in fact at the battle of Plataea (and therefore no cult statues or images were carried by the Spartans into the battle) so that the epiphany described by Simonides was aniconic (Hornblower [2001] 141–2); cf. R. Catling (2002) 218 n. 121. 16  Oenomaus the Cynic vv. 17–19 (second century ad), Lloyd-Jones (1994) 3. 17  Parsons (1992) 35 with a list of parallels; brief discussion at Lloyd-Jones (1994) 3. 18  Castor and Pollux are named as sons of Tyndareus in Homer (Od. 11. 298–9) but the patronymic never occurs. By contrast the patronymic does appear in the Homeric hymns to the Dioscuri (e.g., h.Hom. 17. 2, 5) and once in the Hesiodic Catalogue ([Hes.] fr. 198.1); it is common in the elegiac and lyric poets (Tyrt. 23. 18; Alcm. 8. 8; Ibyc. S166. 16; Sapph. 68a.9). 19  The generic epithet ἱππόδαμος is quite common in Homer, both for Greeks and Trojans (e.g. of Hector Il. 7. 38; Diomedes 7. 404); in the plural it usually designates the Trojans (often in line-initial position, e.g. Τρώων ἱπποδάμων Il. 4. 333). 20  Parsons wonders whether Simonides’ modification of the epithet might reflect a (particularly) Spartan trait (Parsons [1992] 35 with LIMC III. 1: 569 s.v. Dioskouroi 1); cf. Poltera (1997) 464 with n. 146.

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288  Menelaus in the Archaic Period Simonides’ description of Menelaus as εὐρυβίης (31) is even more in­nova­tive. εὐρυβίης does not occur at all in Homer and is not common in other archaic poetry, either.21 εὐρυβίης Μενέλαος is a wholly singular formulation in extant Greek. Metrical exigency is not the most likely explanation. Although several of Menelaus’ Homeric epithets (e.g. ἀρηΐφιλος, ξανθός, and βοὴν ἀγαθός) are admittedly of a different metrical shape, Simonides might have chosen the metrically equivalent Homeric patronymic Ἀτρείδης which would have paralleled the choice of a patronymic for the Dioscuri. The innovative description of Menelaus as εὐρυβίης is worth looking at more closely, especially in light of Simonides’ self-conscious and deliberate use of Homer to contrast with and, in the process, magnify his own poetic project.22 First found in Hesiod modifying marine deities and the like (cf. Hes. Th. 233, 238–9, 971),23 εὐρυβίης/εὐρυβίας enjoyed a period of relative popularity in the epinician poets of the early to mid-fifth century even as its semantic range was extended to characterize any powerful god or creature. Simonides seems to have been the first to adapt the epithet εὐρυβίης to describe a hero. Public performance of the elegy would have provided the opportunity for quick and widespread dissemination of the newly re-discovered word. Its special use then became normative in the lyric diction of epinician poets in the early to mid-fifth century.24 Shaw proposes that Simonides chose Achilles as paradigm for the Spartan king Pausanias in part because, like Poseidon, Achilles’ toponyms and cults are prominent in Laconia.25 But Menelaus was more prominent in Spartan cult in this period than Achilles, so far as we can tell. In conceiving Menelaus as protecting the ἡγεμόνες of Sparta Simonides has not simply co-opted a mythological Homeric hero. He has responded to the historical moment in which the poem was composed.26 Menelaus, already honoured by Spartans 21  Thus Simonides’ choice of εὐρυβίηι Μενελάω]ι (31) is the reverse of ἱπποδάμοις (30): in the latter case, Simonides has taken a solid Homeric epithet and extended its use to both of the Dioscuri, who are not major figures in Homer; in the former, he has applied a non-Homeric epithet to one of the most important heroes of the Homeric poems. 22  As first discussed at Parsons (1992) 32; West (1993) 6; cf. Clay (2001) 182–4; Thiel (2011) 385; Rawles (2018) 90–6. 23  Cf. West (1966) 235. εὐρυβίας modifies Poseidon in the sixth Olympian ode (Pi. O. 6. 58); Pindar’s use of the epithet εὐρυβίας in the second Pythian ode for the otherwise unnamed Poseidon perhaps reflects a conventional association with marine deities (P. 2. 11–12). 24  Cf. Poltera (2008) 10. 25  Shaw (2001); cf. Aloni (2001) 102–4; Rutherford (2001) 39–41; Stehle (2001) 118–19; Thiel (2011) 390. 26  Cf. Thiel (2011) 385.

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Menelaus Εὐρυβίης  289 in cult, is suited for Simonides’ depiction of him as mythic protector of the contemporary Spartan army led by Pausanias into the historical battle at Plataea. To return to the Syracusan incident in Herodotus, Suagros answers a request from Gelon and the Syracusans to take command of the combined forces from the Spartans. According to Herodotus, Suagros responded to the Syracusan embassy with a deliberate adaptation of Homer. In Iliad Book 7, Nestor rebukes the Achaean leaders for their hesitation in meeting Hector’s challenge to a duel. If he had known of their cowardice, ‘the old chariot driver Peleus would have groaned aloud’ (ἦ κε μέγ᾽ οἰμώξειε γέρων ἱππηλάτα Πηλεύς Il. 7. 125). In Herodotus, Suagros adapts the Homeric verse to name Agamemnon as Homeric patron of Spartan military interests. ‘Agamemnon son of Pelops would have groaned aloud, if he had heard that the leadership was to be taken from the Spartans by Gelon and the Syracusans’ (ἦ κε μέγ᾽ οἰμώξειε ὁ Πελοπίδης Ἀγαμέμνων / πυθόμενος Σπαρτιήτας τὴν ἡγεμονίην ἀπαραιρῆσθαι ὑπὸ Γέλωνός τε καὶ Συρηκοσίων Hdt. vii. 159. 1). Suagros substitutes Agamemnon where the Homeric verse mentions Peleus father of Achilles (ὁ Πελοπίδης Ἀγαμέμνων ~ γέρων ἱππηλάτα Πηλεύς). As Herodotus tells it, Agamemnon is the figure most concerned with Spartan ἡγεμονίη. Simonides, by contrast, chose not to make Agamemnon accompany the ἡγεμόνες of the Spartan army at Plataea. Menelaus takes Agamemnon’s place as patron of the army. Menelaus (and the Dioscuri) are in effect Simonides’ answer to Homer’s commander. Whether named as Ἀτρείδης or Πελοπίδης, Agamemnon is conspicuous by his absence.27 εὐρυβίης, as noted above, does not occur in Homer. Its close synonym, εὐρὺ κρείων, however, is used almost exclusively of Agamemnon.28 In its only other Homeric occurrence apart from Agamemnon εὐρὺ κρείων names Poseidon (Il. 11. 751).29 Simonides’ word choice describing Menelaus as heroic commander of the Spartan army does not merely elide his brother (εὐρὺ κρείων Ἀγαμέμνων). Describing Menelaus as εὐρυβίης—rather than Ἀτρείδης—allows Simonides to hint at but overtly pass over Menelaus’ natal family in silence (cf. ὁ Πελοπίδης Ἀγαμέμνων, Hdt. vii. 159. 1). Menelaus’ possession of the kingship of Sparta depended on Helen’s family, after all, and his place in Laconia depended in the first instance on his tenancy of her ancestral regnum. And it seems to have been primarily through his 27  Cf. Boedeker (2002) 101; Grethlein (2006) 88–96. 28  LfgrE 14: 1532 s.v. κρείων; cf. Parry (1971) 92; cf. Scodel (2002) 21. 29 Cf. ὀρσοτρίαιναν εὐρυβίαν . . . θεόν Pi. P. 2. 12.

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290  Menelaus in the Archaic Period relationship to Helen that Menelaus was honoured at Therapne. Conjuring Menelaus by his patronymic Ἀτρείδης would have called to mind his own kin rather than those of his wife Helen; the particularized epithet εὐρὺ κρείων would have called to mind his brother Agamemnon still more, whereas Helen’s brothers the Tyndaridae are now Menelaus’ fellow leaders. In the Odyssey Telemachus asks Nestor where Menelaus was, when Agamemnon was killed, πῶς ἔθαν᾽ Ἀτρείδης εὐρὺ κρείων Ἀγαμέμνων; / ποῦ Μενέλαος ἔην; (Od. 3. 248–9). In light of Simonides’ placement of Menelaus and the Tyndaridae as mythical patrons of the Spartans, one might reverse Telemachus’ question: ‘where [in the early fifth century] was Agamemnon’?30 The Odyssey had provided an answer; and one might wonder whether the popularity of the oresteia story (with its gruesome foundation in the ancestral curse of the Pelopidae) had something to do with Simonides’ choice of hero.31 Isocrates, a century or more later, declares that thanks to Helen, Menelaus was free of the ancestral taint (Μενελάωι χάριν ἀπέδωκεν . . . ὥστε τοῦ γένους ἅπαντος τοῦ Πελοπιδῶν διαφθαρέντος καὶ κακοῖς ἀνηκέστοις περιπεσόντος οὐ μόνον αὐτὸν τῶν συμφορῶν τούτων ἀπήλλαξεν Isoc. 10. 62). We have seen that Simonides’ choice of the novel formulation εὐρυβίης Μενέλαος served several poetic ends. The epithet reflects Menelaus’ successful return to Sparta after many years at sea, a hero who now is εὐρυβίης, ‘of wide sway’. Passing over the patronymic Ἀτρείδης, and the close Homeric synonym (εὐρὺ κρείων), Simonides elided Menelaus’ brother Agamemnon and his kin.32 From a narrative standpoint, Simonides removed Menelaus from his traditional role in the Achaean army as second to his brother Agamemnon Atreides, reconceiving him as guarantor of Spartan ἡγεμονίη without his older brother in a battle against an Asiatic foe. As Simonides tells it, by the end of the Persian wars Menelaus had taken first place alongside his brothers-in-law the Tyndaridae as protector of the Spartan generals in a contemporary battle waged in Greece against invaders from the East. Finally, to his audience, Menelaus εὐρυβίης might even have sounded Spartan. Εὐρυ- is a common first element in Spartan personal names,

30  Evidence for a local Spartan cult of Agamemnon (with Alexandra/Cassandra) dating to the sixth century suggests that Agamemnon would have been available to serve Simonides’ aim of placing a local cult hero at the forefront of the army if he had chosen to do so; see Salapata (2014) esp. 27–40. 31  ‘Agamemnon, despite the fact that he would again set foot on his native soil, would not have a nóstos in the sense of a “safe return”’, Frame (2009) 178. 32  Cf. the report in the Euripides scholia that Simonides and Stesichorus placed Agamemnon in Laconia, PMG 549 (= Σ Ε. Or. 46); Salapata (2014) 28–32.

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Menelaus Εὐρυβίης  291 beginning with the first Spartan wrestler to win a victory at Olympia.33 The Spartan royal family-name shows the same root (the Eurypontids).34 Menelaus, a divine hero hymned by choruses and honoured at Sparta in cult, emerges from the archaic period in Simonides’ pan-Hellenic triumphal elegy as Sparta’s local, divine, hero.35 * * * * * * * * * * * Menelaus appears in Homer already possessed of certain traditional epithets and an indispensable role in the story of the Trojan War. Homer endows him with a distinct narrative identity, fashioning him into an interesting character, a true ‘personality’. Homer’s Menelaus is impelled by a strong sense of justice and acute sensitivity toward his fellow Achaeans; he cares little to nothing for Helen. He is eager to engage his opponents in battle, especially the sons of Priam; yet decisive victory against these personal enemies eludes him, as it must, for the traditional outcome of the war to be preserved. Homer makes thematic use of this necessity, so that Menelaus’ contradictory reputation—and his anxiety on that score—becomes a characteristic ‘theme’. The allusive interaction between Menelaus’ traditional role and the part he plays during this period of rupture among the Achaeans is exploited by Homer not so much for a ‘refiguring’ of the tradition as for an intratextual negotiation about its meaning. Menelaus’ words decrying the offenses of the Trojans and assertion that justice lies with the Achaeans are set in intratextual contrast with Achilles’ denial that, leaving aside Menelaus and Agamemnon, the Trojans have committed no wrong against him or any other Achaean (Il.  13. 620–39; cf. 1. 152–60). Menelaus’ most significant achievements within the Iliad involve reconciliation among his allies and friends: successfully defending Patroclus’ corpse for Achilles and forgiving Antilochus for his treachery in the Games. Through Menelaus, Homer reconciles the Trojan War story with his own chosen story of Achilles’ withdrawal from battle and subsequent return. For all that Menelaus rails against the Trojans’ original crime in the Iliad, what has gone before—and what is to come—matters less to him than what occurs during those intense days of frustrated battle after nine long years of 33  Cf. R. Catling (2010) 202. 34  The name Eurypontidae, of the ‘broad sea’, echoes the Hesiodic connotation of the epithet εὐρυβίης. The river Ἐυρ-ώτας, not etymologically related, contains a homonymous first elem­ent; cf. Beekes 484 s.v. εὐρώς. 35  By elevating Menelaus (instead of Agamemnon) to proto-commander of the combined Greek army Simonides would seem to confer on him a military stature lacking in Homer; in analogous fashion, perhaps, Bacchylides reconceives Menelaus’ rhetorical stature, making him a better speaker even than Odysseus (fr. 15).

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292  Menelaus in the Archaic Period war. What the Iliad reveals about Menelaus is a desire for reconciliation distinct from (though not inconsistent with) his traditional role as proponent of war. Ultimately our scholarly inability to recover the ‘pre-Homeric character’ from Homer’s Menelaus is not only due to lack of evidence or the difficulty of making gold out of dross, but because Homer allows Menelaus himself to ‘overwrite’ his tradition. The audience is encouraged to understand Menelaus, perhaps as much as any other character in the poem, from his own point of view. When Menelaus enters the poem, at the banquet of Agamemnon, the narrator tells us why he has come (2. 408–9); at his last appearance with Antilochus, Menelaus chooses to forgive the young man in view of all that he has suffered and done for him (23. 602–11). Homer allows Menelaus the ‘last word’ on his own character. And he opts to return the prize, ‘though it is mine’, so that ‘these men, too (ἵνα γνώωσι καὶ οἵδε) may know that my heart is not haughty nor unwilling to yield’ (23. 609–11). The poet of the Odyssey evokes the Iliadic Menelaus but alludes more expansively than the earlier epic to their shared tradition and beyond. The nostos is a major theme, and Menelaus’ traditional ‘better halves’, Agamemnon and Helen, come to define him by the end of the poem. While Nestor’s account of the return cleaves more closely to the epic tradition, Menelaus’ nostos as he relates it points beyond the poem and outside the fictionalized world of the epic. The universalizing impulse of the Homeric poem holds the specific places he has visited in suspension, their potential later to be realized in toponyms and founder-legends across the Mediterranean (below).36 As to Menelaus himself the Odyssey predicts a mythic future in Elysium that is unparalleled in any extant archaic narrative, prophesied by a ­folk-tale god. The Hesiodic Catalogue of Women and Sappho both characterize Menelaus as ‘best’ in his context, and the one sphere of excellence depends on the other. Menelaus took Helen as his bride because he was pre-eminent in wealth and able to offer the most gifts ([Hes.] fr. 204. 85–7). His pre-eminence in the bridal suit allowed him to become the best ‘husband’, left behind by Helen when she sailed to Troy (fr. 16. 8–9). In each instance Menelaus depends on his brother and wife to play a role. In the Hesiodic Catalogue Agamemnon woos Helen on Menelaus’ behalf ([Hes.] fr. 197. 4–5); in Sappho, Agamemnon seems to be with him on Lesbos (fr. 17) and Menelaus, though ‘best of all’, is what Helen left behind (fr. 16). 36  Cf. Hdt. iv. 169.

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Menelaus Εὐρυβίης  293 Menelaus’ distinctive identity and considerable epic stature, apart from brother and wife, inspired several unconventional images by artists from a variety of local workshops from the mid-seventh century onward. The narrative range is considerably reduced, however, on Athenian vases by the mid-sixth century to a single, conventional theme (the Recovery of Helen). Sixth-century Athenian vase painting, more than any other genre we have considered, provides an antecedent to the popular def­in­ition of Menelaus by virtue of Helen in fifth-century Athenian drama. Small’s description of the relationship between art and text as one of ‘parallel worlds’ was mentioned in the Introduction as a possible interpretive model for understanding the character of Menelaus in archaic poetry and art (p. 23). As indicated, my investigation of the depiction of Menelaus in the archaic period has taken no advance position as to the influence of poetry on art (or vice versa). The notion that poet and painter worked within ‘parallel worlds’ implies not merely that evidence in favour of influence (in either direction) is lacking—but that in principle the two fields of human endeavour could never be shown to interact, regardless of what evidence was brought. In mathematics, parallel lines just are the sort of lines that never do cross; on this reading, in a predominantly oral culture such as ancient Greece, it is axiomatic that art will never refer to a specific text because, as Small insisted, ‘in a world that depends primarily on oral transmission, the variant is king and there is no original!’.37 One would not wish to press the analogy too far. There is no reason—in principle—that a rather more nuanced relationship could not exist between poems and art.38 Imperfect correspondence to the Homeric version of a subject does not necessarily entail complete ignorance of the poem, though the balance of evidence does indicate that direct influence by the Homeric poems on archaic art was very rare.39 For the character of Menelaus, interaction does seem to have occurred between epic poetry, art, and cult, indicated by the ‘epic’ form of Menelaus’ name inscribed on a Laconian votive (Fig. 5. 2) and on the Corinthian ‘Astarita krater’ (Fig. 4. 11). Though the inscribers need not have been ‘thinking’ of the Homeric poems (or any others) when writing the epic form of Menelaus’ name, there is no reason—in principle— why they could not have done just that. Richard Martin’s study of Poseidon, presented in the Introduction as a methodological paradigm for my own (pp. 23–4), depends on the possibility of ‘overlaps’ between poet and artist. Meaningful overlaps did occur 37  Small (2003) 176.

38  Cf. Hurwit (2011) 4.

39  Snodgrass (1998) 149–50.

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294  Menelaus in the Archaic Period between art, poet, and cult, rather than merely ‘parallel’ explorations of trad­ition­al motifs. While poets and artists did, for the most part, depict Menelaus ‘in parallel’, independently developing favourite motifs from the epic tradition, ‘overlap’ remains possible for certain unique images of Menelaus such as that on the ‘Menelas stand’ or the ‘Euphorbos plate’. For Menelaus we have found that several of the non-Helen images can be (although they certainly do not need to be) interpreted as ‘epic’ or even ‘Homeric’. The valiant hero of the Iliad and immortalized nostos king of the Odyssey remained accessible paradigms to be brought into the ‘real world’ in Sparta in the archaic period. The translation of Menelaus into a ‘real, not a fictional, person’40 occurred early on, sometime in the late eighth or seventh century; not through the putative discovery of bones, as with Orestes at Tegea, but by the votive offerings and built structures of the cult at Therapne.41 Several of the earliest known Laconian inscriptions have been found there, including dedications to Menelaus and to ‘Menelaus’ Helen’.42 The votive offerings may be relatively poor in value and the built structures small in size, but they confirm what literary sources indicate, that Menelaus was worshipped at Sparta from the seventh century until well after the end of the archaic period. Menelaus’ Homeric points of call were invoked by later generations when far-flung localities under Spartan or Lacedaemonian influence such as Cyrene in Libya and Canobos in Egypt asserted a founding connection with the epic Spartan traveler.43 Apart from Herodotus, literary evidence for the assertion of Menelaus as ‘cultural mediator’ largely dates to the Hellenistic period and beyond. The temple chronicle of Lindos on Rhodes, for example, exploiting ‘holes’ in Homer, claimed two dedications by Menelaus: the helmet of Alexander and a dagger (Lindian Chronicle B [X] 62–9).44 Malkin hypothesizes that the cult at Therapne enabled historical Spartans to counter their perceived ‘national youthfulness’ by reaching back to Menelaus. Menelaus’ relationship to the adoptive community would not be one of ethnogenesis; like other returning Trojan heroes, this is signified mythopoetically by a line that swiftly runs out.45 Still, Menelaus represented the Spartans’ distinctive group identity and possession of Laconia.46 Due to his descent from the eponymous Pelops, Malkin comments, ‘Menelaus, king 40  Edmunds (2016) 239 (referring to Helen). 41  Cf. Boedeker (1998) 165–70. 42  Edmunds (2016) 179 shows undue skepticism; cf. Parker (2016) 2–3. 43  Cf. Malkin (1994) 46–64. 44  Cf. Higbie (2003) 87–9. 45 See Fowler (2018). Davies (2019) 103–5 discusses moral and practical considerations entailed in Menelaus’ and Helen’s potential offspring (or lack thereof). 46  Malkin (1994) 46–7; cf. Parker (2016) 23.

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Menelaus Εὐρυβίης  295 of Homeric Sparta, was something the Dorian Spartans of the archaic period could never hope to be: a Peloponnesian and a Spartan even before the Trojan War.’47 Menelaus’ part in ‘ancestralizing’ attempts to create a shared Spartan identity would seem, in Simonides, already to have begun.48 Isocrates’ assertion that Helen’s intervention distances him from the Pelopids and their crimes (10. 62) implies that the marital connection did more than make him heir to Tyndareus; it purified his own tainted lineage, providing the Spartans a Pelopid ruler without the curse (cf. above, pp. 262–3).49 Menelaus entered the fifth century, then, not as an ‘archetype’ or mythic hypostasis but as a popular pan-Hellenic hero and minor deity in Spartan religion. It is only later that Athenian dramatists narrow and flatten the range of his character, ineluctably identifying him as the lesser Atreid and cuckolded husband of Helen. Politically, in Athens, his definition as ‘Spartan’ becomes a liability. As relations between Athens and Sparta de­teri­ or­ated after the end of the Persian wars and the two cities contended for influence in the Mediterranean, it can be no accident that Menelaus took on increasingly venal and repellent qualities.50 Menelaus is already a despot in Sophocles’ Ajax (S. Aj. 1052–90). Teucer’s response to Menelaus seems to encode Athenian animosity toward Sparta.51 Σπάρτης ἀνάσσων ἦλθες, οὐχ ἡμῶν κρατῶν (1102) … ἀλλ᾽ ὧνπερ ἄρχεις ἄρχε καὶ τὰ σέμν᾽ ἔπη / κόλαζ᾽ ἐκείνους (1107–8).52 You came as lord of Sparta, not master over us . . . . Rule over those whom you rule, and punish them with your fine words.

It is not difficult to imagine Athenian audiences thrilling to this rebuke of Spartan overlordship.53 Aristotle thought that Euripides went a bit too far in making Menelaus ‘excessively base’ in the Orestes (Po. 1454a) but many 47  Malkin (1994) 46. 48  An ‘ancestralizing strategy’ provides a means by which communities seeking a shared identity (i.e. an ‘ethnicity’) need not depend on (or even claim for itself) shared genetic features but, instead, a common association with a specific territory and a shared myth of descent; cf. Hall (2002) 17–33, 138. 49 Maurice Bowra (1934) speculated that the ancestor Pleisthenes entered the Pelopid stemma for a similar reason; cf. Appendix. 50  Cf. E. Hall (2018) esp. 128. 51  Cf. Finglass (2011) esp. 437, 442. 52  ‘[T]ragic diction for ‘mind your own business’, comments Taplin (1977) 400; cf. Finglass (2011) 449. 53  Cf. Finglass (2011) 435–52.

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296  Menelaus in the Archaic Period ­ thers—perhaps even Plato—would be taken in. The images and ideas about o Menelaus that have survived from classical Athens—not Homer—inspire a contempt for the figure that has prevailed even to our day.54 Although classical audiences would perhaps have recognized ‘their’ Menelaus in later travesties of the figure, attentive listeners to Homer certainly would not. 54  e.g. the miser Malbecco in Spenser’s Faerie Queene; the dull-witted and prosaic husband ‘Yellowhair’ in C.  S.  Lewis’s After Ten Years; or the brutal and ill-fated redhead in Wolfgang Petersen’s Troy.

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APPENDIX

Menelaus’ Genealogy The Hesiodic fragments name the Cretan princess Aërope, daughter of Catreus and ­granddaughter of King Minos, mother of the Atreidae (Hes. frr. 194–5).1 In one source Menelaus also is linked with Crete through his concubine (Eum. fr. 9 Bernabé).2 However, ancient testimony reveals some confusion as to Agamemnon and Menelaus’ paternal ancestry. The problem of their genealogy is an old one.3 ‘Pelops is a figure to whom, from at least the sixth century, sons were all too readily attached—Peloponnesian heroes and eponyms with no fixed antecedents.’4 Tsitsibakou-Vasalos (2007) remarks that ‘[t]he Pelopids display a high degree of intermixing and a natural association with κρᾶσις and κεράννυμι’. In her opinion, Menelaus is a figure of ‘genealogical blending’; there is a ‘watering down and dilution of the familial propensities in the person of Menelaus: linguistic and behavioural legacy is “mixed” and mollified in him’.5 As to ‘mollifying’ an inherited ‘behavioural legacy’ it is worth noting perhaps that Homer’s Menelaus is gentle (as the scholia remark), and in the Iliad he is proud to affirm the fact (Il. 23. 611). In the Odyssey Menelaus is gracious to Telemachus and yielding to Helen. Yet this ‘mollifying’ trait, even if visible in Homer, is not much displayed in the Cyclic or Hesiodic fragments. Menelaus despoils Paris’ corpse in the Little Iliad (Il. parv. arg. 8–9); and the murder of Deiphobus is a well-attested traditional detail (Il. exc. arg. 14–15). Homer expresses Agamemnon’s ancestral right to kingship in the genealogy of his sceptre. Forged by Hephaestus, the sceptre was presented first to Zeus. Zeus gave it to Hermes, who gave it to Pelops, who gave it to Atreus; upon his death, it passed to Thyestes and thence to Agamemnon (Il. 2. 100–9).6 In Homer, the patronym of Menelaus and Agamemnon is always Atreus. At some point a different father or grandfather named Pleisthenes was ascribed to the pair.7 The scholia on Il. 1. 7 report that there are two contrasting traditions current in the archaic period: the ‘Hesiodic’ and ‘Homeric’ (= [Hes.] fr. 194; Σ H. Il. 1.7). In the ‘Homeric’ tradition Atreus alone is their father (e.g. Il. 4. 98; 11. 131). In the ‘Hesiodic’ tradition,

1  Ap. ΣAD ad H. Il. 1. 7; cf. Tzetz. 69. 3; [Apollod.] Epit. 3. 3. Cf. Lesky (1933) 201–2; West (1985) 111; Gantz (1993) 271, 546–8. 2  Cf. [Apollod.] Epit. 3. 11. 1; S. West (1988) 227. 3  See Wilamowitz (1922) 510–11; Lesky (1933) 199–204; Ferrari (1938); Fraenkel (1950) 740; Bowra (19602) 128; Barron (1969); Bergmann (1970) 53–7; West (1985) 111–12, esp. n. 188; Fowler (2013) 426–41 (§14). 4  West (1985) 110. 5  Tsitsibakou-Vasalos (2007) 216. 6  Cf. Nilsson (1932) 43–4, 240–1. 7 Cf. Gantz (1993) 552–6; Fowler (2013) 439; Davies and Finglass (2014) 481, 506–7; Salapata (2014) 28–31.

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298  Appendix: Menelaus ’ Genealogy apparently, ‘Pleisthenes’ was their father and Atreus their grandfather—though elsewhere in the Hesiodic Catalogue Agamemnon and Menelaus are called Atreids ([Hes.] fr. 203). Menelaus succeeds in the suit for Helen, in fact, qua Atreid (Ἀτρε[ίδ]ης fr. 204. 86). The name Pleisthenes appears sporadically in early Greek mythography, moreover, as the name of other members of Menelaus’ extended family.8 Evidence for two alternate traditions also is preserved in the lyric poets. Sappho names Menelaus and Agamemnon Atreids (Ἀτρ[έιδα]ι̣ . . . βα]σίληες Sapph. fr. 17. 3–4). Stesichorus describes the emergence, from the bloodied head of a snake, of ‘a prince of the line of Pleisthenes’ (ἐκ δ᾽ ἄρα τοῦ βασιλεὺς Πλεισθενίδας ἐφάνη, fr. 180. 2 D-F), probably meaning Orestes (if not Agamemnon).9 The patronymic occurs in a second instance in the fragments of Stesichorus, possibly in reference to Menelaus (Stesich. fr. 170. 25 D-F), though the fragmentary nature of the text makes the ascription uncertain.10 Davies and Finglass suggest that the disappearance of the ancestor Pleisthenes from the Atreid stemma occurred early. ‘Probably even by Stesichorus’ time he [Pleisthenes] was a shadowy figure’.11 Ibycus names Agamemnon by both patronymics (PMG 282. 21–2 [= S151. 21–2]).12 Bacchylides is the first extant source to use the patronymic Πλεισθενίδας uncontroversially for Menelaus (Bacch. fr. 15. 48), though in the same poem he uses the patronymic Ἀτρείδης (6).13 Tzetzes reports that Aeschylus followed Hesiod in making Pleisthenes father of Agamemnon and Menelaus (= [Hes.] fr. 194) yet extant evidence indicates that he, like Ibycus and Bacchylides, used both patronymics. Clytaemnestra speaks of the daemon of the Pleisthenidae (A. Ag. 1569) and Aegisthus curses the ‘Pleisthenid’ race from which Agamemnon has sprung: τὸ Πλεισθένους γένος (1602). Elsewhere in the Agamemnon, however, Agamemnon and Menelaus are ‘sons of Atreus’ (e.g. 60, 1583).14 The extant tragedies of Sophocles and Euripides almost always make Atreus and Aërope the parents of Agamemnon and Menelaus.15 Euripides is credited with a play entitled Pleisthenes but little can be made of the genealogy from what remains (frr. 625–33). The two competing genealogies were rationalized in later scholarly tradition by the explanation that Pleisthenes was the (true) father of 8  Pleisthenes is the name of a son of Menelaus and Helen in a fragment attributed to the Cypria (Σ E. Andr. 898; fr. 12 Bernabé); cf. Davies (2019) 104; the placement of Pleisthenes in this generation is otherwise unattested. Pleisthenes names a brother of Atreus in the scholia to Pindar; cf. Σ ad Pi. O. 1. 144ce; Davies and Finglass (2014) 506–7. 9  Cf. Davies and Finglass (2014) 506–7. 10  It is unclear to which brother Πλεισθενίδας refers. Davies and Finglass (2014) report that the letter following Πλεισθενίδας ‘more closely resembles Α than Μ’ though they consider the patronymic more likely to refer to Menelaus in view of the context (481). 11 Davies and Finglass (2014) 507; cf. Salapata (2014) 30–1. Stesichorus’ choice of the ‘Hesiodic’ patronymic instead of the ‘Homeric’ Atreus might be part of his polemical stance regarding ‘Homer’ vs ‘Hesiod’; cf. Barron (1969) 128. 12  Wilkinson (2013) 70–1. For divine polyonymy, see Hornblower (2014) esp. 99–101. 13  Cf. Fearn (2007) 271–87. 14  Cf. Fraenkel (1950) 740; Gantz (1993) 553–4. 15  Cf. S. Ai. 1293–5; E. Hel. 390–1; Or. 16–18, 1009. On the potential relationship between the family members in E.  Kressai (TrGF 5. 2: 618–23), see Snell ad E.  Kress. fr. 460; Gantz (1993) 555–6.

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Appendix: Menelaus ’ Genealogy  299 Agamemnon and Menelaus but died young, leaving his sons to be brought up by Atreus (reported at ΣAD Il. 2. 149).16 Several accounts have been offered as to the place of Agamemnon and Menelaus’ ancestors in the larger Greek mythological tradition. On one view Agamemnon and Menelaus were native Mycenaean heroes who, like Nestor, were interpolated after the end of the Mycenaean period into another stock of northern and central Greek legend which already contained its own heroes with distinguished exploits and pedigrees.17 Mabel Lang took this as an explanation for the connection between Menelaus and Nestor and his sons in Homer and cyclic epic. If Menelaus were a ‘neophyte’ in post-Mycenaean Greek stories it would make sense, she ­reasoned, that poets associated him with Nestor, another ‘local’ Peloponnesian hero; and that in time of need, as after the abduction of Helen (Cypr. frr. 16–17) or on the battlefield, Menelaus would look to Nestor and his sons for support. Moreover, Nestor’s stories about ‘northern’ heroes to Menelaus in the Cypria (Cyp. arg. 27–9) would provide a bridge, as it were, between Menelaus and the heroes who derive from older and better-attested stemmata, to which the narrative then turns (Cyp. arg. 30ff.).18 On the other hand, M. L. West compellingly advocated the view that the Pelopids were the interpolated family in the Peloponnese.19 West (1985) points to (1) the trad­ition­al notion of the Peloponnese as the seat of the Perseids (particularly the area around Argos) and (2) the old connections of the Pelopids with the Asiatic Aeolians.20 The Pelopids originated in Asia Minor, in particular among the Aeolians located near Smyrna.21 Agamemnon and Menelaus became associated with certain areas of the Peloponnese under the influence of the ‘epic tradition’ concerning Menelaus’ and Agamemnon’s command of the Greek army against Troy. ‘It was the Aeolians, no doubt, who made Pelops a son of the local mountain giant Tantalus . . . this probably goes back to the eighth century if not earlier.’22 Pleisthenes would have been inserted into the Pelopid stemma with Aërope, eponym of the Aëropes who lived at Troizen, along with Hermione (see below), in the area of Troizen and the eastern Argolid.23

16  Cf. Gantz (1993) 552. 17  Nilsson (1932) 42–50; Lang (1995) 150 (on Nestor, 159–60). 18  Cf. Sammons (2017) 56–61. 19  West (1985) 158–60; cf. Kullmann (2002) 113–14. 20 Cf. Bethe (1927) 11, 50. West dismisses the notion that the Pelopids succeeded the Perseids in power at Mycenae because such a transfer of power ‘ought to have been a dramatic event, accomplished by violence and heroism, and yet there is nothing of the sort in the trad­ition, only makeshifts [such as the marriage between Perseus’ sons to Pelops’ daughters in the Catalogue; Sthenelus’ invitation of Atreus and Thyestes to the Argolid]’, West (1985) 159. 21  Tantalus is from Sipylos, near Smyrna, West (1985) 159. Thus too Aloni (1986), emphasizing the connection with Lesbos (80–2, 102 nn. 52, 57). 22  West (1985) 159. The story seems to have flourished first in the area around Pisatis in Asiatic Aeolis (where Pelops married Hippodameia) before travelling to Greece, perhaps by way of Lesbos and then Euboea ([Hes.] fr. 193. 9–11). The Peloponnese was known as the ‘island of Pelops’ by the mid-seventh century, West (1985) 157–9. 23  West (1985) 159 with n. 78, where he compares her Cretan ancestry to that of the Troizenian-born Theseus.

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300  Appendix: Menelaus ’ Genealogy Jonathan Hall, building on the position taken by West, discusses Pleisthenes as an ‘elastoplast’ solution to postpone the birth of Menelaus and Agamamnon by one generation to allow time for Heracles to precede the Atreidae to Troy.24 The shift to ‘matrilineal affines’ would provide indirect evidence for all of this. The Pelopid stemma (unlike the Perseid) shows a repeated pattern of uxorilocality: Pelops moves from Asia Minor to Pisa in Elis to marry Hippodameia; Menelaus marries Helen in Sparta and becomes ruler there; Aegisthus joins Clytaemnestra in Mycenae; and Orestes inherits the throne of Sparta through his marriage to Hermione. Hall places the insertion of Pleisthenes in the stemma of Agamemnon and Menelaus in the first half of the seventh century. He considers the hypothesis that Pleisthenes entered the stemma as a consequence of the circulation of the Homeric epics more likely than the notion that his appearance in the epics was due to local traditions.25 By contrast, West considers the insertion of Aërope, Pleisthenes, and Hermione into the trad­ition on which the Hesiodic Catalogue was based to have occurred roughly a century earlier, predating the diffusion of the Homeric epics.26 Bowra proposed a third solution that still warrants consideration. The feasting habits of the Atreids had become a popular theme by the sixth century in oresteiastories.27 One benefit of the insertion of Pleisthenes in the Atreid stemma, however it came about, is that it created distance from the sins of Atreus.28 If so, the genealogical distancing strategy has greater importance for Agamemnon than for Menelaus. In the Iliad Agamemnon is more distinctively ‘son of Atreus’ than Menelaus; and Atreus’ sins are most strongly implicated in the sacrifice at Aulis and the oresteiastory.29 Bowra suggested that Pleisthenes was inserted into the Atreid stemma in the sixth century as it was becoming politically expedient in Laconia to claim Agamemnon as a Spartan. It is reasonable that it would have been at this juncture that the desire arose in the Peloponnese to create genealogical distance between Agamemnnon and Atreus.30 Underlying the discrepancies between the conflicting accounts of Pleisthenes is the intrinsic uncertainty of the evidence.31 What can reasonably be concluded is that the Atreid stemma was sufficiently underdetermined, even after the composition of the Iliad and the Odyssey, that a poet such as Stesichorus could define it as he wished (Stesich. frr. 170. 25, 180. 2 D-F; cf. Ibyc. PMG 282. 21–2). And regardless of

24  Hall (1997) 90–1; cf. Fowler (2018) 44–6. 25  Hall (1997) 92–3; cf. Piérart (1992) 131. 26  West (1985) 159. Cf. the altogether different solution of Kakridis (1978) 3–4 (following Robert) that Pleisthenes was a traditional member of the genealogy of the Argive ruling class, not a post-Homeric invention. 27  Cf. Davies and Finglass (2014) 482–511 on Stesichorus’ Oresteia (‘we are surprisingly well-informed about [the] contents’ of Stesichorus’ version, 488); cf. Salapata (2014) 29–30. 28  Cf. Fowler (2013) 426–7. 29  Cf. Davies and Finglass (2014) 482–511. 30  Bowra (1934); Bowie (2010) 79–80 considers it an ‘enticing hypothesis’. Cf. Davies and Finglass (2014) who, rightly skeptical of the notion of Stesichorus as ‘court poet’ in Sparta (28), dismiss the interaction—for which they provide ample evidence (501)—of contemporary Spartan interest in Agamemnon with Stesichorus’ poetic choices. On the genealogical effects of the disastrous legacy of Pelops, Fowler (2013) 427–8. 31  Skutsch (1987) 188.

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Appendix: Menelaus ’ Genealogy  301 exactly how, and when, Pleisthenes entered the Atreid stemma, Agamemnon—not Menelaus—was most implicated. When Herodotus has Suagros invoke ‘the Pelopid Agamemnon’ (ὁ Πελοπίδης Ἀγαμέμνων Hdt. vii. 159. 1) the title evokes a mythological as well as territorial/ethnic identity (‘the Peloponnesian king’). Mythologically, Agamemnon ‘is’ not only ‘leader of the Trojan war’ but also scion of the violent and doomed family at Mycenae.32 Menelaus’ political and mythological identity were determined by Helen, not by Pelops or Atreus. As Proteus decreed to Menelaus, he is not to meet his fate in ‘Argos’ but to end life in Elysium ‘because you possess Helen and are son-in-law to Zeus’ (Od. 4. 569); Isocrates reports that Helen freed Menelaus from the ancestoral taint (Isoc. 10. 62). Hermione is the only daughter attested for Helen and Menelaus (cf. [Hes.] fr. 175. 1; Stesich. fr. 113. 10 D-F). The poet of the Hesiodic Catalogue characterizes the birth of Hermione to Helen and Menelaus as ἄελπτον ([Hes.] fr. 204. 95): ‘unexpected’ but perhaps also ‘hopeless’ as her birth seems to have been the means by which Zeus initiates the beginning of the end of the age of heroes.33 One or more sons are reported for Menelaus, with and without Helen, in several early Greek epic fragments from Peloponnesian mythographers and others such as the Lacedaemonian poet Cinaetho (frr. 3), the late eighth-century Corinthian historian Eumelus (fr. 9 Bernabé), an Arcadian mythographer named Ariaethus (FGrH 316 F 6), as well as genealogical fragments assigned to ‘the author of the Cypriot histories’ (Cyp. fr. 12 Bernabé).34 The son of Menelaus and Helen, where one is attested, is usually named Nicostratus (as in [Hes.] fr. 175. 2).35 Illegitimate sons attributed to Menelaus are variously named; a notable expression of the Cretan theme in Menelaus’ genealogy is ‘Xenodamus’, born to a Cretan slave-woman (Κνωσσίας δὲ νύμφης Eum. fr. 9).36 Nicostratus and the other ‘speaking’ names of Menelaus’ sons possess a positive or neutral connotation.37 Only in the Odyssey is a negative trait expressed by a son’s name (Megapenthes, Od. 4. 11). And in light of the frequency with which Helen and Menelaus were ascribed at least one legitimate son in the Cyclic fragments, the absence of one at Sparta in the Odyssey is striking. Like other returning Trojan heroes who (due to the return of the Heracleidae) were mythologically denied the right of ethnogenesis in the Peloponnese, the line of Menelaus—with or without Helen—quickly ‘runs into sand’.38

32  Cf. Fowler (2013) 428. 33  Clay (2003) 168–70; Ormand (2014) 202–16 with bibliography at 202 n. 50. 34  Cf. Severyns (1928) 379–81; cf. West (2013) 32–4, 55. 35  Cf. Cin. fr. 3 Bernabé; cf. ΣEHQ Od. 4. 11; Lysimach. FGrH 382 F 12. Porphyry (ap. ΣA Il. 3. 175) reported a local variant of Menelaus’ stemma: two sons of Helen and Menelaus were said to be ‘honoured’ among the Lacedaemonians. There is no other literary evidence for the worship of Menelaus’ children; the notion of honouring two sons of Menelaus and Helen may have been inspired by the cult of the Dioscuri or the double kingship in historical Sparta. 36  It is possible to take Κνωσσία as a personal-name (ethnics appear as slave-names at least by the fifth century); cf. Olson (1998) 295; West (2003) 249 translates Κνωσσίας δὲ νύμφης ‘Cnossian nymph’. 37 Cf. Cyp. fr. 12; Severyns (1928) 380–1. On the ‘sterility’ of the marriage of Paris and Helen (preserving Helen’s beauty, Kahil [1955] 35, cf. Σ Od. 4. 11); Davies (2019) 103–5. 38  Fowler (2018) 53.

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332 Bibliography Whitley, A. J. M. 1994. ‘The Monuments That Stood before Marathon: Tomb Cult and Hero Cult in Archaic Attica.’ AJA 98.2: 213–20. Whitley, A. J. M. 2001. The Archaeology of Ancient Greece. Cambridge. Whitley, A. J. M. et al. 2005–6. ‘Archaeology in Greece’. AR 52: 1–112. Whitman, C. 1958. Homer and the Heroic Tradition. Cambridge, MA. Wide, S. K. 1973. Lakonische Kulte. Orig. pub. 1893. Darmstadt. Wiencke, M. 1954. ‘An Epic Theme in Greek Art’. AJA 58: 285–306. Wilamowitz-von Moellendorff, U. von. 1914. ‘Neue lesbische Lyrik (OxyrhynchusPapyri X)’. Neue Jahrbücher für das klassische Altertum, Geschichte und deutsche Literatur 33: 225–47. Wilamowitz-von Moellendorff, U. von. 1922. Pindaros. Berlin. Wilkinson, C.  L. 2013. The Lyric of Ibycus: Introduction, Text and Commentary. Sozomena: Studies in the Recovery of Ancient Texts 13. Berlin. Willcock, M. M. 1970. A Commentary on Homer’s Iliad. London and New York. Willcock, M. M. 1973. ‘The Funeral Games of Patroclus’. BICS 20: 1–11. Willcock, M. M. 1977. ‘Ad Hoc Invention in the Iliad’. HSCPh 81: 41–53. Willcock, M.  M. 1983. ‘Antilochus in the Iliad’. In Mélanges Edouard Delebecque. Aix-en-Provence: 477–85. Willcock, M. M. 1987. ‘The Final Scenes of Iliad XVII’. In Bremer, de Jong, and Kalff, eds: 185–94. Willcock, M. M. 1997. ‘Neoanalysis’. In NCH: 174–89. Willcock, M.  M. 2002. ‘Menelaus in the Iliad’. In Reichel and Rengakos, eds: 221–9. Willcock, M. M. 2004. ‘Traditional Epithets’. In Bierl, Schmitt, and Willi, eds: 51–62. Williams, D. 1991a. ‘Vase-painting in Fifth-century Athens’. In Rasmussen and Spivey, eds: 103–14. Williams, D. 1991b. ‘Onesimos and the Getty Iliupersis’. Greek Vases in the J. Paul Getty Museum 5: 41–64. Williams, D. 2009. Masterpieces of Classical Art. Austin. Wöhrle, G. 1999. Telemachs Reise: Väter und Söhne in Ilias und Odyssee oder ein Beitrag zur Erforschung der Männlichkeits-ideologie in der homerischen Welt. Göttingen. Woodford, S. 2003. Images of Myths in Classical Antiquity. Cambridge. Woodward, A. M. 1908–9. ‘Laconia I. Excavations at Sparta, 1909. § 4. The inscriptions’. ABSA 15: 40–106. Woodward, A.  M. 1928. ‘Excavations at Sparta, 1924–28: I.  The Theatre: Architectural Remains’. ABSA 30: 151–240. Yamagata, N. 1989. ‘The Apostrophe in Homer as Part of the Oral Technique’. BICS 36: 91–103. Yamagata, N. 1997. ‘ἄναξ and βασιλεύς in Homer’. CQ 47: 1–14. Yamagata, N. 2003. ‘Locating Power: Spatial Signs of Social Ranking in Homer and the Tale of the Heike’. Scholia: Studies in Classical Antiquity 12: 34–44. Yamagata, N. 2012a. ‘Use of Homeric References in Plato and Xenophon.’ CQ 62: 130–44. Yamagata, N. 2012b. ‘Epithets with Echoes: A Study on Formula–Narrative Interaction’. In Montanari, Rengakos, and Tsagalis, eds: 445–70.

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Bibliography  333 Zajonz, S. 2002. Isokrates’ Enkomion auf Helena: Ein Kommentar. Hypomnemata 139. Göttingen. Zanker, G. 1994. The Heart of Achilles: Characterization and Personal Ethics in the Iliad. Ann Arbor. Zatta, C. 2013. ‘Consulting the Gods in the Odyssey’. In J.  Virgilio García and A. Ruiz, eds, Poetic Language and Religion in Greece and Rome. Newcastle-uponTyne: 183–9. Zavvou, E. 2005. AD 60.2: 175–6. Zeitlin, F. 1996. Playing the Other. Chicago. Ziskowski, A. 2014. ‘The Bellerophon Myth in Early Corinthian History and Art’. Hesperia 83.1: 1–80.

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Index Locorum Aeschylus Ag. 44:  40 60: 298 617–79: 198 1569: 298 1583: 298 1602: 298 fr. 210 (Proteus): 155 fr. 212 (Proteus): 152 Aithiopis arg. 10–15:  247 13–14:  19, 104 16–18: 102 19–20:  19, 104 21–2: 161 22: 162 22–4: 251 Alcaeus fr. 6. 9:  98 fr. 283:  200 fr. 283. 5:  200 fr. 298:  191 fr. 298. 12:  190 Alcman fr. 2. 2:  260 fr. 4:  182, 260, 275, 282 fr. 5:  182, 260, 261, 275, 282 fr. 8. 8:  287 fr. 10b. 8–20:  261 fr. 19:  22, 181, 231, 259, 287 fr. 19. 6–13:  181 fr. 19. 6:  259 fr. 19. 7–8:  259 fr. 19. 8–9:  260 fr. 19. 8:  259 fr. 19. 10:  181 fr. 19. 12–13:  181, 282 fr. 19. 12:  259, 261 Anacreon PMG 408:  148 Apollodorus Bibl. iii. 10. 8­–9:  188 iii. 10. 9:  183 [Apollodorus] Epit. 2. 16:  183 3. 2:  184 3. 3–4:  200

3. 3:  297 3. 3. 1–3:  185 3. 3. 1:  184 3. 6:  186 3. 11. 1:  297 3. 28:  202 5. 22:  176, 190 6. 1:  191 6. 29:  191 6. 30:  163 Aristophanes Lys. 155:  190 1314: 260 Pl. 188–93  85 Aristotle Po. 1451a:  2 1454a: 295 1459a: 39 1459b: 39 [Aristotle] Top. 140a21–2:  210 Bacchylides fr. 15:  241 fr. 15. 48:  298 fr. 15. 51–5:  164 Callimachus fr. 254. 5–6 (SH):  150 Cypria arg. 4:  186 5–8: 121 5–6: 202 7–8: 184 12–13:  183, 184 13–14: 184 13: 129 14–16: 184 14–15: 125 15–16:  54, 185 16–17: 185 18–19:  69, 185 18:  61, 186 19–20:  184, 186, 201 21–4: 184 21–3: 183 25–33: 177 26–9:  172, 202

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336  Index Locorum Cypria arg.: (cont.) 26–7: 123 27–9:  186, 299 27–8: 187 28–9: 187 30ff.: 299 31–3: 188 55–7: 239–40 55–6:  55, 188 58–60: 196 59–60: 196 59:  174, 190 fr. 1. 7:  12 fr. 9:  200 fr. 9. 1:  190 fr. 12:  301 fr. 15. 6:  287 fr. 16:  77, 123, 186, 202, 299 fr. 17:  77, 123, 172, 186–7, 202, 299 fr. dub. 37. 3–4:  184 Diodorus Siculus 1. 96. 5:  162 Euripides Andr. 968–70:  128 Cyc. 185–6:  199 HF 83ff.:  187 Helen: 191 Hel. 11:  152 390–1: 298 1465ff.: 260 IA 77–9:  186 Orestes: 295 Or. 16–18, 1009:  298 Rh. 257:  282 fr. 460 (Kressai): 298 frr. 625–33 (Pleisthenes): 298 Herodotus i. 3–4:  2 i. 65. 4:  203 ii. 112:  155 ii. 116–20:  191 ii. 116–17:  2 ii. 116. 6–117:  185 iv. 169:  136, 292 v. 75. 1–2:  287 vi. 61. 1–2:  261 vi. 61. 3:  261 vi. 61. 5–63. 3:  261 vii. 159. 1:  287, 289, 301 ix. 10. 2:  287 Hesiod Th. 26–8:  10 233:  150, 155, 288 236: 150

238–9: 288 971: 288 Op. 158–9:  164 160:  163, 165 171: 162 172: 165 327: 169 Sc. 270:  260 fr. 25. 28–9:  163 fr. 37.5:  194 fr. 175. 1:  301 fr. 175. 2:  129, 301 fr. 176:  106 fr. 176. 2:  200 fr. 176. 7:  32, 161, 200 fr. 193. 9–11:  299 fr. 194:  297, 298 fr. 195:  297 fr. 197:  193 fr. 197. 4–5:  170, 292 13–14:  183, 193 14–15:  106, 193 15: 194 fr. 198:  194 fr. 198. 1:  287 5: 161 20: 278 24–5:  132, 193, 195 26–7: 183 fr. 199:  183 fr. 199. 31–2:  183 37–8: 183 39: 184 fr. 200: 1–2:  171 44: 184 fr. 203:  195, 196, 298 fr. 204. 41–3:  184, 194 41–2: 194 41:  32, 161, 197, 200 42–3: 171 54–5: 171 54: 194 61: 183 78–85:  41, 188, 196 78–84: 195 84–96: 194–5 84–5: 195 85–7: 292 86: 298 87: 194 87–8: 251

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Index Locorum  337 87–92:  41, 45, 193 88: 197 88–9: 196 89–91: 196 90: 196 92: 251 93: 196 95–110: 196 95: 301 102:  196, 198 118–19: 196 fr. 211. 3:  196 fr. 229:  163 fr. 357:  118 Homer Iliad 1. 5:  12, 120 1. 7:  297 1. 62–3:  166 1. 105–20:  166 1. 113–15:  46 1. 188:  140 1. 357–8:  152 1. 358:  151 1. 412:  vi 1. 582:  98 2. 50–1:  121 2. 100–9:  297 2. 100–8:  33 2. 101:  34 2. 149:  299 2. 155–6:  76 2. 160–2:  46 2. 164:  46 2. 229–30:  70 2. 286–8:  41 2. 336:  106 2. 354–6:  46, 189 2. 355:  47 2. 356:  45, 46, 47 2. 404–7:  42 2. 404:  42 2. 407:  44 2. 408–9:  42, 75, 87 2. 408:  42, 45, 117 2. 409:  42, 43 2. 469–73:  63 2. 569–80:  44 2. 576:  44 2. 580:  47 2. 581–90:  44

2. 581–5:  44, 184 2. 581:  20, 44, 127, 184 2. 586:  44, 127 2. 587:  45 2. 588–9:  45 2. 589–90:  47 2. 589:  45 2. 590:  45, 46, 47 2. 638:  175 2. 650–1:  202 2. 690:  140 2. 763–7:  105 2. 778:  31 3. 1–14:  48 3. 1–7:  48 3. 8–9:  48 3. 16:  48 3. 17:  48, 75 3. 21–9:  75 3. 21–8:  89 3. 21–2:  49, 89 3. 21:  49 3. 23–8:  37 3. 23–6:  49, 52 3. 23:  49 3. 27–8:  49 3. 27:  49 3. 28:  49 3. 33–7:  50 3. 33–5:  50 3. 36–7:  50 3. 38–57:  50 3. 39–40:  50 3. 67–75:  50 3. 70–2:  185 3. 71–2:  52 3. 85–94:  50 3. 92–3:  52 3. 94:  52 3. 95:  50 3. 97–110:  30, 115 3. 97–100:  51 3. 97–8:  51 3. 98–9:  47, 51 3. 99–100:  29, 72, 94, 135, 154, 174 3. 100:  40, 46, 51 3. 101–2:  52 3. 102:  47 3. 103–6:  50, 52 3. 103–4:  52 3. 104:  60

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338  Index Locorum Homer (cont.) 3. 105–7:  52 3. 106–7:  72, 85, 113 3. 106:  52, 115 3. 108–10:  53, 109, 130, 133 3. 109–10:  54 3. 121–244:  v 3. 154–65:  199 3. 159:  55 3. 163:  54, 186 3. 171–244:  54 3. 171–242:  190 3. 172–5:  54 3. 174–5:  129 3. 174:  54 3. 180:  54 3. 205–24:  188, 240 3. 210:  55 3. 213–15:  55, 60, 73 3. 215:  34, 86 3. 221–4:  241 3. 222–3:  133 3. 230–3:  125 3. 232–3:  54, 185 3. 232:  176 3. 236–44:  183 3. 237:  287 3. 243–4:  161 3. 276–80:  50 3. 280–5:  47 3. 281–7:  108, 189 3. 286:  47, 52 3. 320:  148 3. 329:  56 3. 330–8:  48 3. 346–9:  56 3. 350–4:  56 3. 351–4:  57, 60, 84 3. 351–2:  57, 83 3. 351:  57 3. 353–4:  57, 84, 130 3. 354:  59, 83 3. 356–60:  57 3. 361–3:  57 3. 364–8:  56 3. 364–5a:  58 3. 364:  57 3. 365–8:  58, 84 3. 365:  58, 61, 84, 87, 91, 108, 148 3. 366–8:  58

3. 366:  58, 59 3. 369–82:  52 3. 369–72:  255 3. 369–79:  79 3. 373–82:  73 3. 373–5:  35 3. 373:  58, 59 3. 374–82:  58 3. 383–448:  v 3. 404:  59 3. 412:  59 3. 414–17:  59 3. 415:  60 3. 417:  60 3. 418:  59 3. 427:  59 3. 428–31:  59 3. 429:  vi, 144, 186 3. 430:  59 3. 432:  59 3. 433–6:  60 3. 439:  60, 61 3. 440:  60 3. 443–5:  185 3. 445–7:  185 3. 447:  186 4. 7–8:  60, 64, 186 4. 7:  57 4. 9–12:  61 4. 13:  59, 61 4. 18–19:  61 4. 25:  61 4. 28:  61 4. 50–6:  61 4. 57:  61 4. 93–103:  62 4. 97:  85 4. 98–9:  62, 65 4. 98:  297 4. 104–40:  73 4. 105–26:  62 4. 113–15:  85 4. 125–6:  62 4. 127–47:  37 4. 127–34:  161 4. 127–31:  63 4. 127–8:  62, 87 4. 130–1:  62, 148 4. 130:  97 4. 131:  97

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Index Locorum  339 4. 134–40:  62 4. 134–5:  63 4. 136–40:  63 4. 140–7:  64 4. 141–5:  62 4. 141:  64 4. 144:  64 4. 146–7:  62, 64 4. 148–82:  162 4. 148–9:  64 4. 150:  65 4. 152:  65 4. 153–82:  31 4. 153:  65 4. 154:  40, 65 4. 155–6:  162 4. 157–9:  85 4. 164–8:  85 4. 169–82:  40, 65, 162 4. 169:  65 4. 170–5:  65 4. 172:  62 4. 175:  258 4. 176–7:  258 4. 182:  66 4. 184–5:  66 4. 184:  65 4. 189:  66 4. 190–7:  66 4. 207:  40, 66 4. 209–12:  66 4. 211–12:  67 4. 220–1:  67 4. 222:  67 5. 9:  97 5. 38–51:  43 5. 38–42:  67 5. 43–8:  67 5. 49–58:  67 5. 51–2:  67 5. 312–16:  67 5. 551–3:  68 5. 552–3:  94 5. 561–4:  68 5. 561:  29, 79, 237 5. 562:  68 5. 563–4:  73 5. 565–75:  105 5. 565–7:  31, 68, 87 5. 567:  66

5. 711–18:  73 5. 715–17:  69 5. 715–16:  186 5. 715:  61 5. 800–13:  152 6. 37–53:  189 6. 37–50:  69 6. 37–8:  69, 70 6. 37ff.:  43 6. 45–50:  69 6. 46:  69, 70 6. 51–4:  29, 70 6. 51:  70 6. 55–62:  121 6. 55–60:  40, 74 6. 55–6:  70 6. 56–7:  41, 70, 71, 85 6. 57–60:  71, 189 6. 61–2:  29, 74, 76, 122 6. 61:  71 6. 62–3:  71 6. 62:  71, 189 6. 63–5:  71 6. 80–98:  241 6. 119–236:  48 6. 288–92:  136, 171 6. 289–92:  185 6. 289–90:  171 6. 290–1:  171 6. 297–311:  241 6. 323–68:  v 6. 355–6:  40 7. 38:  287 7. 67–91:  72 7. 69–72:  72 7. 94–102:  75 7. 94:  72 7. 95–102:  239 7. 95:  72 7. 96–102:  72 7. 96–7:  73 7. 96:  73, 83 7. 97–102:  53, 133 7. 97:  73 7. 99–102:  73 7. 99:  73 7. 100:  73 7. 101–21:  52, 79 7. 102–3:  73 7. 103–5:  71

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340  Index Locorum Homer (cont.) 7. 103:  73 7. 104–6:  31, 73, 162 7. 104–5:  74 7. 104:  73, 74 7. 106:  74 7. 109–21:  121 7. 109–19:  31, 40 7. 109–10:  77, 94 7. 109:  73, 74 7. 110:  74 7. 113–14:  74, 103 7. 114:  74 7. 120–1:  71, 74, 76, 122 7. 125:  289 7. 178–9:  58 7. 201–2:  58 7. 385–93:  46 7. 393:  55 7. 398–402:  40 7. 400–3:  196 7. 400–2:  47 7. 402:  189 7. 404:  287 7. 411:  171 7. 469–71:  197 8. 185:  105 8. 365–9:  162 8. 432–7:  131 9. 129–30:  149 9. 143:  129 9. 338–41:  46, 196 9. 341–3:  46 9. 375:  110 9. 481–2:  129 9. 550:  31 9. 587:  70 9. 664:  149 9. 699–700:  14 10. 23:  75 10. 25–8:  75 10. 26–8:  75, 94 10. 29:  75 10. 37–41:  75 10. 37–8:  75 10. 36:  75 10. 41:  75 10. 61–72:  29 10. 61–3:  75 10. 61:  76

10. 65–6:  76 10. 72:  76 10. 75:  98 10. 96–101:  76 10. 106–7:  76 10. 107:  76 10. 114–18:  76 10. 116–17:  76 10. 116:  77 10. 120–4:  77 10. 121:  77, 154 10. 122–3:  121 10. 122:  154, 176 10. 123:  76, 143, 154 10. 124:  75 10. 180:  75 10. 204:  75 10. 234–9:  175 10. 237–9:  77 10. 240:  31, 78, 175 10. 241:  78 10. 243–5:  175 11. 1–2:  161 11. 122–47:  188 11. 123–5:  55 11. 130–5:  69 11. 131:  297 11. 138–42:  55, 240 11. 139–40:  55 11. 251–83:  88 11. 311–400:  175 11. 369–400:  88 11. 385–95:  50 11. 434–88:  88 11. 456–63:  78 11. 462–88:  29, 86 11. 462–3:  78 11. 463:  89 11. 464:  78 11. 469–72:  78 11. 487–8:  78 11. 548:  99 11. 551–5:  99 11. 557:  99 11. 608–15:  99 11. 632–5:  187 11. 653–4:  14 11. 670–803:  187 11. 695:  83 11. 751:  289

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Index Locorum  341 11. 767–70:  188 12. 163–5:  84 12. 173:  57 13. 450–1:  163 13. 502:  125 13. 545–59:  105 13. 545:  87 13. 581–655:  105 13. 581–600:  53 13. 581:  79, 125 13. 582–96:  79 13. 582–3:  79 13. 588–92:  37, 79, 90 13. 608–10:  80 13. 609:  87 13. 616–18:  80 13. 620–39:  41, 53, 72, 80–86, 100, 164, 189, 291 13. 620–3:  73 13. 620:  82, 84 13. 621:  82, 83, 85, 115 13. 622–3:  86, 104 13. 622:  83 13. 623:  83, 185 13. 624–5:  84, 86 13. 625:  84 13. 626–7:  45, 130 13. 626:  83, 185 13. 627:  83, 125, 185 13. 628–9:  84, 85 13. 630:  82, 84, 86 13. 631–4:  84 13. 631:  58, 91, 148 13. 633–4:  83 13. 634–5:  83 13. 634:  83 13. 636–9:  53, 92, 133, 139 13. 636–7:  85 13. 636:  139 13. 639:  85 13. 643–9:  79 13. 660–2:  79 13. 824:  55 14. 322:  163, 164 14. 409–15:  254 14. 516–19:  86, 92 15. 31–3:  106 15. 36–77:  86 15. 65–8:  86 15. 247–8:  154

15. 302:  86 15. 515–91:  86 15. 520–2:  91 15. 525–7:  87 15. 528–34:  87 15. 539–91:  86 15. 539–71:  78 15. 539–43:  91 15. 539:  87 15. 540–1:  87 15. 544–5:  87 15. 545:  87 15. 560:  87 15. 561:  87 15. 568–91:  105 15. 568–71:  35 15. 569–71:  86, 87 15. 569–70:  87, 143 15. 569:  87, 108, 113, 143 15. 570:  113, 141 15. 582:  35 16. 35:  115 16. 46–7:  74 16. 311–12:  86 16. 311–29:  105 16. 431–61:  163 16. 641–3:  63 16. 788–850:  88 16. 806–17:  236 16. 806–15:  91 17. 1–4:  89 17. 1–2:  49 17. 1:  90, 91, 248 17. 3–6:  90 17. 3–4:  237 17. 3:  237 17. 4–6:  93–5 17. 4–5:  148 17. 6–8:  91 17. 9–11:  91 17. 12–17:  91 17. 12:  91 17. 19–46:  91 17. 19–32:  91 17. 19–24:  86 17. 19–23:  92, 133 17. 19:  58, 92, 148 17. 20–4:  91, 92 17. 24–8:  91, 196 17. 25–7:  111

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342  Index Locorum Homer (cont.) 17. 26–7:  31, 145 17. 26:  92 17. 27–8:  92 17. 29–32:  93 17. 29:  91 17. 30–2:  70 17. 32:  91 17. 43–5:  93 17. 45–67:  1 17. 46:  93, 148 17. 47–50:  93 17. 48–60:  235 17. 51–2:  93 17. 53–4:  93 17. 60:  236, 238 17. 61–9:  75, 94 17. 61–5:  94, 95 17. 61–2:  93 17. 61:  93 17. 65–7:  94 17. 67:  93 17. 68–72:  1 17. 68–71:  238 17. 68–9:  93 17. 69–92:  162 17. 70–89:  88 17. 70–3:  238 17. 70–1:  236 17. 71–4:  238 17. 79–81:  238 17. 79–80:  238, 239 17. 81:  238 17. 83–128:  88 17. 83–9:  238 17. 83:  238 17. 84–6:  236 17. 87–90:  93 17. 89:  238 17. 90–100:  94 17. 91–108:  52 17. 91–106:  172 17. 91–105:  36, 88, 154, 236 17. 92:  94 17. 93–5:  145 17. 93:  94 17. 98­–9:  94 17. 100–2:  94 17. 100–1:  76, 94 17. 101:  94

17. 103–5:  95 17. 104–5:  91, 103 17. 108–15:  236 17. 109–12:  94 17. 113:  32 17. 120–2:  88, 89, 94, 95 17. 121–2:  103 17. 124:  32 17. 125–7:  249 17. 132–6:  95 17. 138–9:  88, 95 17. 139:  90, 129 17. 170–2:  37 17. 171:  84 17. 233–78:  88 17. 238–45:  95 17. 238–9:  95 17. 240:  95 17. 242–3:  95, 100 17. 242:  95, 101 17. 246–7:  95 17. 247:  95 17. 248–55:  89, 91, 132 17. 248–51:  197 17. 254–5:  95 17. 288–300:  242 17. 301:  249 17. 333–56:  88 17. 346:  31 17. 543–4:  96 17. 543:  100 17. 544–6:  96 17. 545–6:  100 17. 547–50:  96 17. 551–2:  96 17. 553–81:  62 17. 553–73:  161 17. 553ff.:  104 17. 554:  96 17. 556­–9:  152 17. 556–8:  98, 249 17. 556:  96 17. 557–9:  96 17. 557:  249 17. 558:  249 17. 559:  96 17. 560:  96 17. 561–6:  236 17. 561–5:  239 17. 561–4:  103

OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 03/07/20, SPi

Index Locorum  343 17. 561–2:  96 17. 563–6:  94 17. 563–4:  91 17. 564:  96 17. 567–8:  86, 96 17. 569–73:  96 17. 569:  87, 97 17. 570–3:  63 17. 570–2:  97 17. 571–2:  97 17. 574–96:  236 17. 575–91:  97 17. 577–9:  97 17. 577:  97 17. 579–80:  97 17. 580–1:  98 17. 582–96:  52 17. 582–90:  74 17. 585–90:  34, 239 17. 586–90:  98 17. 586–8:  86 17. 586:  98 17. 587–8:  92, 98 17. 587:  97, 98, 196 17. 588–9:  98 17. 588:  20, 34, 43 17. 589–90:  97 17. 591–626:  88 17. 595–6:  99 17. 597:  98, 99 17. 601:  99 17. 620–5:  99 17. 626–7:  99 17. 629–47:  99 17. 648–55:  99 17. 651–744:  86 17. 652–5:  143 17. 656:  76 17. 657–66:  37 17. 657–64:  99 17. 657–61:  94 17. 657:  99 17. 660–4:  99 17. 665–6:  100 17. 666–7:  101 17. 666:  99 17. 667:  100 17. 669–72:  91 17. 670–1:  100 17. 674–8:  37, 100

17. 684–93:  86, 248 17. 685–701:  143 17. 685–6:  87 17. 685:  110 17. 686:  101 17. 689:  101 17. 690:  101 17. 691–3:  104 17. 702–7:  29 17. 702–5:  101 17. 702–4:  101 17. 706–7:  101 17. 708–29:  248 17. 711–14:  101 17. 712–14:  75 17. 712–13:  95 17. 713–14:  94 17. 716:  101 17. 717–19:  78 17. 722–61:  103 18. 2:  104 18. 18–21:  104 18. 79–82:  104 18. 88–93:  104 18. 111–13:  104 18. 113:  104 18. 117–19:  66, 163 18. 117:  161 18. 141:  150 18. 254–309:  55 18. 262:  92 19. 12–13:  99 19. 78–144:  80, 112 19. 95–6:  84 19. 208:  73, 104 19. 311:  104 19. 408–17:  32 20. 107:  150 20. 196–8:  70 20. 232–5:  161 20. 425:  96 21. 99–113:  70 21. 272–3a: 58 21. 470–96:  255 22. 15:  58, 84 22. 78:  70 22. 91:  70 22. 93–7:  50 22. 395–404:  189 22. 424–5:  140

OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 03/07/20, SPi

344  Index Locorum Homer (cont.) 22. 482:  162 23. 69–92:  162 23. 262–86:  105 23. 275–9:  105 23. 280–6:  105 23. 288–9:  105 23. 290–2:  105 23. 295:  105, 107 23. 309–14:  106 23. 313:  142 23. 345–8:  106 23. 348:  106 23. 359–60:  104 23. 402–16:  106 23. 408–9:  106, 107, 109 23. 414–17:  106 23. 415:  106 23. 416:  106 23. 417–47:  106 23. 417–18:  107 23. 417:   107 23. 418–19:  106 23. 419–24:  106 23. 425:  107 23. 426–8:  107 23. 426:  107, 110 23. 427:  106 23. 429:  107 23. 430:  107 23. 431–4:  107, 109 23. 433–4:  107 23. 433:  107 23. 434–5:  154 23. 434:  114, 153 23. 435–7:  114 23. 435:  107 23. 439–41:  108 23. 439–40:  87, 110, 113 23. 439:  84, 108 23. 440:  108, 112 23. 441:  53, 54, 108 23. 443–5:  106, 108 23. 444–5:  109 23. 446–7:  107 23. 499–513:  109 23. 514:  109 23. 515:  106, 109 23. 516–27:  109

23. 516:  109 23. 517–23:  109 23. 523–4:  109 23. 524–7:  109 23. 525:  109 23. 543–62:  110 23. 555–6:  19 23. 556:  110 23. 566–7:  110 23. 570–2:  110 23. 570–1:  142 23. 570:  112, 142 23. 571:  111 23. 573–8:  76 23. 573–5:  110 23. 575:  111 23. 576–8:  111 23. 576:  111, 142 23. 579–81:  111 23. 579–80:  111 23. 581–5:  54, 108 23. 581:  36, 110 23. 584:  112 23. 586–7:  33 23. 586:  112 23. 587–92:  112 23. 587–90:  112 23. 587:  113, 143 23. 588:  113 23. 589:  113 23. 591–2:  113 23. 596–600:  113 23. 597–9:  80, 90, 100, 113 23. 597:  113 23. 600:  35, 113 23. 602–11:  39, 116, 292 23. 602–6:  114 23. 602–4:  153 23. 602–3:  154 23. 602:  172 23. 603–11:  29 23. 603–4:  130 23. 603:  153 23. 604:  54, 114, 133, 143 23. 605–6:  114 23. 606:  142 23. 607–8:  66, 94, 102, 114, 142, 172, 202 23. 607:  53, 140

OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 03/07/20, SPi

Index Locorum  345 23. 609–11:  115, 292 23. 609–10:  115 23. 611:  70, 83, 297 23. 612–13:  112 23. 708–34:  115 23. 743–4:  136 23. 890–5:  105 24. 28–30:  46 24. 32:  110 24. 281–313:  171 24. 560–90:  115 24. 761–76:  v 24. 761–75:  190 Odyssey 1. 11–14:  182 1. 11–12:  118 1. 32–43:  167 1. 93–5:  118 1. 93:  119 1. 94–5:  126 1. 239–40:  167 1. 255–66:  175 1. 284–5:  119 1. 285:  118 1. 326–7:  182 1. 351–2:  118, 260 2. 1–5:  146 2. 325–7:  168 2. 343:  140 3. 1–5:  119 3. 1–2:  156 3. 5:  156 3. 31–50:  119 3. 31–3:  127 3. 88:  119 3. 103–4:  138 3. 103:  131 3. 130–6:  192 3. 130–1:  192 3. 132–4:  166 3. 134­–6:  191 3. 135–50:  117 3. 135:  191 3. 136–50:  74 3. 136–49:  191 3. 136–8:  121 3. 137:  121 3. 140–3:  121 3. 143–6:  151, 166

3. 143–5:  122, 191 3. 143:  122 3. 146–7:  122 3. 146:  191 3. 155–68:  191 3. 155–7:  122 3. 160–4:  122 3. 160:  166 3. 165–72:  198 3. 168–9:  122 3. 180–2:  122 3. 184–5:  119 3. 193–200:  126 3. 219:  127 3. 234–5:  122 3. 236–8:  123 3. 248–9:  123, 290 3. 251–2:  123 3. 251:  141, 184 3. 254–312:  126 3. 256–61:  123 3. 276–302:  123 3. 277:  123 3. 278–83:  123 3. 278:  124 3. 279–80:  124 3. 282:  123 3. 284:  167 3. 285:  167 3. 286–90:  167 3. 287–9:  124 3. 291–302:  125 3. 291–9:  125, 163, 185 3. 300–2:  158, 191 3. 300:  136 3. 301–12:  123 3. 301:  132, 134 3. 303–12:  137, 191 3. 311–12:  126 3. 312:  125, 133, 137 3. 313:  169 3. 317–22:  119 3. 317–18:  174 3. 318–20:  124 3. 318–19:  126 3. 318:  119 3. 319–20:  119 3. 322:  119 3. 397–9:  131

OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 03/07/20, SPi

346  Index Locorum Homer (cont.) 3. 475–6:  119 3. 479–80:  119 3. 482–5:  119 4. 1–4:  127 4. 1–2:  20 4. 1:  44, 127 4. 2:  127 4. 3–4:  127 4. 4:  127 4. 5–7:  20, 128 4. 5:  128 4. 6–7:  128 4. 10–12:  128 4. 10:  128 4. 11:  90, 129, 301 4. 12:  127, 129 4. 14:  128, 132 4. 26–9:  129 4. 31–2:  129 4. 32:  130 4. 33–5:  130 4. 33–4:  131 4. 34:  131 4. 35:  131 4. 39–46:  131 4. 42:  131 4. 43:  131, 133 4. 43–6:  258 4. 44–6:  132 4. 44:  131 4. 48–62:  131 4. 49–58:  184 4. 50:  131 4. 52–66:  131 4. 53:  132 4. 58:  132 4. 63–4:  132 4. 69–73:  170 4. 72:  132 4. 73:  132 4. 74–5:  132 4. 75:  132, 134 4. 76:  132 4. 78–81:  132, 134, 138 4. 78:  143, 155 4. 81–215:  134 4. 81–2:  134 4. 81:  134, 135, 137 4. 83–9:  135

4. 83:  136 4. 84:  136 4. 85–9:  136 4. 90–3:  137, 139, 140 4. 90–2:  191 4. 90–1:  134 4. 90:  137 4. 93:  137, 191 4. 100–3:  153 4. 100–1:  138 4. 102–3:  138 4. 102:  138 4. 103–6:  138 4. 103:  138 4. 104–5:  139, 140 4. 106–10:  139 4. 106:  140 4. 107:  139, 140 4. 108:  140 4. 113–14:  141 4. 113:  138 4. 116–19:  172 4. 122:  132 4. 125:  133 4. 125–32:  158 4. 131:  133 4. 138–46:  133, 143 4. 138–9:  172 4. 138:  143 4. 141–6:  133 4. 144:  147 4. 151–4:  134 4. 152–3:  140 4. 162–7:  146 4. 163:  168 4. 169–70:  140 4. 170–80:  168 4. 170:  154 4. 171–82:  129 4. 171–7:  184 4. 171–2:  141 4. 174–82:  141, 170 4. 178:  141 4. 179:  141 4. 183–9:  138, 141 4. 183–6:  153 4. 183:  141 4. 184:  141 4. 185:  141 4. 186–7:  141

OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 03/07/20, SPi

Index Locorum  347 4. 186:  172 4. 188:  141 4. 190–3:  142 4. 190:  142 4. 193–5:  142 4. 193:  142 4. 195–6:  153 4. 199–202:  142 4. 200–1:  143 4. 200:  142 4. 201–2:  141 4. 202:  143 4. 204–11:  202 4. 204–5:  143 4. 214–15:  134 4. 219–34:  143 4. 224–6:  143 4. 228:  143 4. 235:  143 4. 239–40:  144 4. 241–43:  144 4. 242–89:  189 4. 243:  144 4. 259–61:  144 4. 261–3:  199 4. 261–2:  145 4. 263–4:  vi, 144, 145, 193, 199 4. 264:  145 4. 266–89:  144 4. 267–70:  144 4. 269–73:  177 4. 271–89:  145, 175 4. 274–9:  145 4. 274–6:  189 4. 275–89:  190 4. 275:  145 4. 276:  145 4. 278–9:  145 4. 281–3:  145 4. 282–4:  145 4. 286–8:  145 4. 287–9:  145 4. 288–9:  145 4. 289:  145 4. 291–3:  146 4. 297–300:  131 4. 306–10:  146 4. 306:  146 4. 312–14:  147 4. 312–13:  146

4. 312:  146, 147 4. 316–31:  146 4. 328–31:  147 4. 329–30:  168 4. 330:  168 4. 333–50:  174 4. 335–40:  147 4. 335–8:  147 4. 335–6:  147 4. 335:  149 4. 338–40:  147 4. 340:  148, 149 4. 341–6:  147, 175, 176, 197, 198 4. 341–5:  148 4. 341:  148, 149 4. 342–5:  175 4. 342:  149 4. 345:  148 4. 347–50:  150 4. 347–8:  149, 150 4. 349:  151 4. 350:  151 4. 351–586:  191 4. 351–3:  153 4. 351–2:  151 4. 354–69:  155 4. 354–5:  151 4. 355:  158 4. 360–1:  151 4. 360:  153 4. 363:  152 4. 364–6:  152 4. 364:  152 4. 365:  152 4. 366–74:  152 4. 367–8:  152 4. 369:  154 4. 370–2:  153 4. 370:  152 4. 371–2:  176 4. 371:  153 4. 372:  153 4. 376:  154 4. 377–8:  154 4. 379–81:  122, 154 4. 379:  154 4. 380–1:  154, 158 4. 383:  154 4. 385–7:  154 4. 385:  155

OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 03/07/20, SPi

348  Index Locorum Homer (cont.) 4. 386:  155 4. 389–93:  158 4. 389–90:  156, 165 4. 395:  155 4. 396:  155 4. 397–9:  155 4. 400–3:  156 4. 400–1:  156 4. 401:  156 4. 406:  156 4. 407:  152, 156 4. 411–12:  152 4. 413:  156 4. 417–18:  157 4. 423–4:  154 4. 426–70:  156 4. 437:  157 4. 441–7:  156 4. 441:  156 4. 445–6:  156 4. 450–570:  149 4. 453:  157 4. 454–5:  157 4. 455:  157 4. 456–8:  157 4. 460:  157 4. 462–3:  157 4. 462:  122 4. 463:  157 4. 465–6:  157 4. 468–70:  122 4. 469–70:  158 4. 472–3:  154, 158 4. 475–9:  158, 166 4. 477:  137 4. 481–2:  158 4. 481:  158 4. 482:  158 4. 486–7:  159 4. 492–3:  159 4. 498:  159, 160 4. 499–549:  159 4. 499–511:  158 4. 512–37:  123 4. 514–18:  125 4. 539:  159 4. 543–5:  159 4. 550:  160 4. 551:  160 4. 552–3:  160

4. 553:  160 4. 555–60:  126 4. 555–7:  160 4. 557–60:  160 4. 561–9:  122 4. 561–3:  258 4. 561–2:  22, 32, 160 4. 561:  161 4. 562:  117, 141, 160 4. 563–5:  15, 32, 161 4. 563:  162 4. 564:  117, 161, 163 4. 565:  162 4. 569:  163, 193, 301 4. 571–2:  166 4. 571:  166 4. 573–5:  166 4. 581–4:  125 4. 581–2:  166 4. 581:  137 4. 582:  166 4. 583–4:  123, 166 4. 583:  166 4. 584:  166, 167 4. 585–6:  167 4. 587–623:  170 4. 587–8:  168 4. 589–92:  168 4. 594–9:  168 4. 594:  170 4. 597–8:  170 4. 599:  170 4. 600–8:  168 4. 611:  133 4. 612–13:  168 4. 613–19:  170 4. 618:  136 4. 624ff.:  168 5. 14–17:  160 5. 333–53:  152 5. 333–5:  161 6. 41–6:  165 6. 119–21:  133 6. 130–6:  147 7. 86–102:  133 7. 114–32:  165 7. 336–9:  131 8. 72–8:  121 8. 75:  177 8. 149:  186 8. 362:  135

OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 03/07/20, SPi

Index Locorum  349 8. 514–18:  176 8. 516–18:  145, 189 8. 517–20:  53 8. 517–18:  145, 190 8. 518:  176, 177, 178 9. 29–[30]:  151 9. 80:  125 9. 97:  143 9. 105–15:  165 9. 500–1:  145 10. 135–41:  124 10. 187–8:  156 10. 194–5:  156 10. 210–25:  149 10. 236:  143 10. 275–309:  154 10. 310–44:  149 10. 488–95:  159 10. 492–5:  159 10. 496–9:  159 10. 497:  159 10. 498:  159 10. 501–2:  159 10. 508–37:  162 10. 538–40:  149 10. 539–40:  165 10. 552–60:  124 11. 61:  124 11. 62–3:  124 11. 64­–80:  158 11. 71–8:  124 11. 72–8:  124 11. 100–37:  154 11. 134–7:  160 11. 134–6:  165 11. 136–7:  117, 165 11. 254:  112 11. 297:  12 11. 298–9:  287 11. 299–304:  183 11. 300–4:  161 11. 300:  287 11. 405–34:  167 11. 438:  174 11. 467:  161 11. 568:  163 11. 601–3:  163 12. 1–15:  158 12. 324–32:  152 12. 339–40:  152 12. 379:  92

13. 256–66:  124 13. 272:  135 13. 287–9:  149 13. 287:  97 13. 316–17:  192 13. 363–81:  128 13. 399:  161 13. 422–3:  126 13. 431:  161 14. 68:  174 14. 92:  92 14. 95:  92 14. 192:  149 14. 199–359:  124 14. 199:  175 14. 217–21:  175 14. 245–51:  124 14. 246:  135 14. 247:  166 14. 257–8:  124, 135 14. 288:  135 14. 288–92:  186 14. 293–300:  124 14. 385:  166 14. 468–71:  175 15. 10:  169 15. 16–17:  169 15. 65–6:  169 15. 68–74:  169 15. 68:  170, 173, 202 15. 70–1:  169 15. 71:  169 15. 72–3:  170 15. 72:  169 15. 73:  169, 170 15. 74:  169 15. 76:  174 15. 79–85:  141, 170 15. 80–5:  184 15. 86–91:  170 15. 92–110:  170 15. 100–4:  170 15. 105–8:  170 15. 112:  171, 173 15. 113–19:  170 15. 115–19:  171 15. 120–9:  170 15. 126:  171 15. 133–7:  170 15. 144–6:  171 15. 151–3:  171

OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 03/07/20, SPi

350  Index Locorum Homer (cont.) 15. 151:  171 15. 152–3:  171 15. 156–7:  160 15. 158–9:  170, 172 15. 160–8:  172 15. 161:  172 15. 166–8:  172 15. 169–70:  172 15. 171:  172, 202 15. 172–8:  172, 190 15. 172–3:  21 15. 174–8:  173 15. 176–8:  126 15. 179–81:  173 15. 180:  173 15. 182:  173 15. 212:  92 15. 250–1:  161 15. 403–14:  165 15. 415–19:  135 15. 415–16:  136 15. 417:  136 15. 425:  136 15. 460:  132 17. 54:  166 17. 106:  174 17. 108–49:  174 17. 116–17:  174 17. 118­­–19:  174, 190 17. 118:  133 17. 124–41:  174 17. 132–7:  149 17. 142–6:  174 17. 148–9:  174 17. 426–7:  124, 135 17. 442–3:  135 17. 448:  124 18. 290–303:  184 18. 295–6:  132 19. 165–202:  124 19. 179:  163 19. 188:  163 19. 203:  10 19. 216:  166 19. 407–9:  140 19. 535ff.:  172 20. 33–5:  152

20. 199–201:  58 22. 227–9:  174 22. 238:  127 23. 218–24:  174, 190, 198 23. 224:  174 24. 10–15:  162 24. 15:  161 24. 58:  150 24. 95–7:  167 24. 114–17:  177 24. 114:  177 24. 115–19:  188 24. 115–17:  77 24. 115–16:  178 24. 115:  177 24. 116:  177, 178 24. 191–202:  167 24. 203–4:  162 h.Hom. 3. 26–8:  155 77–8: 155 17. 2, 5:  287 Ibycus S151 (= PMG  282) S151. 5:  32, 200 21–2:  173, 298, 300 S166. 16:  287 PMG 291:  161 PMG 296:  190, 226 PMG 309:  161 Ilias excidium arg. 14–15:  145, 176, 189, 190, 297 15: 53 Ilias parva arg. I 6–8:  189 6: 176 8–9:  188, 189, 297 10:  145, 189 II 1:  176 fr. 4. 1–5:  189 fr. 19:  188, 190, 201, 226 fr. 25:  176 Isocrates 10. 61:  262 62–3: 163 62:  262, 263, 270, 290, 295, 301 63: 263 Livy xxxiv. 28:  263 Nosti (cycl.) 150,  182, 190–3 test. 1–4:  191

OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 03/07/20, SPi

Index Locorum  351 arg. 1–11:  191 3: 191 arg. 4:  191 5–6: 191 6–7: 191 17–19: 191 fr. 4:  191 Ovid Her.16. 303–6:  185 Pausanias ii. 17. 3:  235 iii. 18. 16:  206 iii. 19. 6:  23 iii. 19. 9:  264 iii. 19. 13:  161 iii. 20. 10:  171 iii. 21. 9:  150 v. 18. 3:  22, 208, 215 v. 22. 2:  251 Pherecydes fr. 48 (Fowler):  155 Pindar O. 2. 66:  164 68–70: 164 70–1: 162 76: 263 78: 163 129–30: 164 O. 6. 58:  288 P. 2. 12:  289 P. 4. 4:  263 Plato Grg. 523–524:  162 Smp. 174b–c:  2, 43, 98 Polybius v. 18:  263 v. 21. 1:  vi, 263 Sappho fr. 16:  197–200 fr. 16. 1–4:  198 fr. 16. 3–4:  vi, 199 fr. 16. 5–9:  199 fr. 16. 8:  vi fr. 16. 11:  200 fr. 17:  191, 197–8 fr. 17. 1–4:  197 fr. 17. 3–4:  198, 298 fr. 17. 12:  198 fr. 23. 5:  32, 200 fr. 68a.9:  287 Simonides fr. 11W2 ('Plataea elegy'):  25, 183, 285–91 fr. 11. 13–14:  286 fr. 11. 19:  286

fr. 11. 29–32:  286 fr. 11. 29:  286 fr. 11. 30–1:  287 fr. 11. 30:  286–8 fr. 11. 31:  25, 287–8 fr. 13. 9–10:  287 fr. 22:  165 PMG 549:  290 PMG 558:  161 [Simonides] 40(a) FGE: 287 Sophocles Aj. 1052–90:  295 1102: 295 1107–8: 295 1293–5: 298 Stesichorus frr. 84–9 (Helen):  200­–1 fr. 84:  200 fr. 85:  200 fr. 85. 4–5:  200 fr. 87:  41, 183, 188, 195, 200 fr. 88. 1:  200, 201 fr. 90. 11–15 (Palinodes):  155, 201 fr. 90. 15:  155 fr. 91(h):  155, 201 frr. 98–164 (Ilioupersis): 201 fr. 100:  201 fr. 105:  201 fr. 106:  190, 201, 226 fr. 112. 5–6:  200 fr. 112. 5:  32 fr. 113:  201 fr. 113. 10:  301 fr. 115:  201 frr. 169–70:  191 fr. 170 (Nost.):  172, 182, 202, 203 fr. 170. 1–2:  173 fr. 170. 1:  202 fr. 170. 2:  190 fr. 170. 9:  172 fr. 170. 10–11:  173 fr. 170. 10:  202 fr. 170: 22–3:  173 fr. 170. 25:  173, 298, 300 fr. 180. 2:  298, 300 PMG 549:  290 Strabo i. 2. 30:  150 i. 38:  136 viii. 4. 10:  287

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352  Index Locorum Theocritus fr. 8. 52:  156 fr. 18 arg.:  200 fr. 18. 22ff.:  260 Theognis 699–718:  85 1087–8: 287 Tyrtaeus fr. 8:  287

fr. 11:  287 fr. 11. 1:  287 fr. 12. 32:  162 fr. 23. 18:  287 Virgil Aen. 6. 236–901: 193 Georg. 4. 387–530: 150

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General Index Achilles  v, 8, 14, 19–20, 31–2, 34, 38, 39–41, 45, 46, 58, 66, 68, 71, 74, 76, 81, 84, 87–9, 95–7, 101–5, 109–10, 115–16, 127–8, 140, 143, 161, 189, 193, 195–7, 286, 288–9, 291; iconography  210, 215, 223, 241–51, 253; and Antilochus  19–20, 38–9, 87, 89, 102–4, 109, 143; defence of corpse  102, 245–53, 256; wrath of  39, 41, 56, 76, 104, 116, 193 Adrestus  69–71, 85, 101, 122 Aeneas  67–8, 70, 105, 193, 251, 254 Aërope  202, 297–300 ‘Aethiopian’  iconography 246 Agamemnon  30, 31, 33–4, 39–47, 50, 52, 54, 56, 62, 64–7, 80, 83–5, 88, 90, 94, 104–6, 109, 112, 117–18, 126, 140, 162, 164, 166–7, 173–8, 184, 186, 188, 191–4, 196, 256, 258, 286, 289–92, 290, 297–301; death of  122–3, 125, 137, 159–60, 300–1 (see also oresteia); relationship with Menelaus  21, 44, 65, 67, 69–77, 121–2, 127, 139–40, 153–4, 198, 201–3; return of  117, 125–6 Aiantes  42, 99–100 Aithiopis  19, 102–4, 161–2, 182, 247, 249, 251 Ajax (Oilean)  158–9, 209, 215, 225, 241 Ajax (Telamonian)  17, 29, 44, 78, 86–90, 94–5, 99, 100–3, 115, 247–8, 251, 253–4, 295 alliteration  80, 138 ἄλλοθεν (see ‘otherworld’) allusion, overview  1–2, 6–13; for character portrayal  15–18; for portrayal of Menelaus  20; Homeric  18–21 (see also evocation; intratextuality; intertextuality; palimpsest; parody; quotation; repetition; re-use; self-reflexive tropes) ambush, Iliadic Book  10, 77–8; in Trojan Horse  145–6; of Proteus  155–7, 167; in ‘lying tale’ (Od. 14)  175–6 Amyclae (cult of Apollo)  23, 261, 264, 266

anakalypsis (‘veil-gesture’)  209, 211, 213, 217, 220 Antenor  34, 54–6, 60, 72, 85–6, 133, 164, 188, 202, 231, 240–1, 257 Antilochus  16, 19–20, 33, 36, 39, 54, 68–9, 78, 83–4, 86–7, 89, 99–117, 123, 130, 134, 140–3, 153–4, 172, 196, 247–8, 291–2 Apollo  34, 43, 58, 60, 84, 88, 91, 92, 97–9, 110, 148, 154, 155, 196, 238–9, 254, 261, 266 apostrophe  30, 34–5, 37 (see also Menelaus, apostrophe) Ares  31, 68–9, 73, 176 ἀρηΐφιλος (epithet of Menelaus)  17, 20, 31–3, 48, 49, 59, 65, 68, 78, 88, 89, 95, 176, 194–7, 288 Argos  61, 65, 117, 122–3, 141, 160, 170, 184, 299, 301 ‘Aristonothos krater’  232 (see also Polyphemus vases Aristotle  2, 39, 210, 295 Artemis Orthia (cult at Sparta)  214, 262–3, 266–7, 269, 274–5 ‘Astarita krater’  188, 206, 231, 239–40, 256–7, 283, 293 Athena  46, 57, 60–5, 68, 73–4, 86–7, 96–7, 99, 103, 103–4, 118–22, 124, 126, 131, 145, 148–9, 152, 158, 166, 169–70, 174, 186, 191, 236, 241, 249, 254, 255, 256, 266, 267, 285 Athenian vase painters, named, Antimenes Painter  217–18, 220; Amasis Painter  217–18, 246, 250, 257; Berlin Painter  225; Brygos Painter  223; C Painter  215; Douris  236, 253–5, 257; Euphronios  255; Exekias  245–50, 251, 256–7; KX Painter  241, 257; Leagros group  251–2, 256–7; Lydos  215–16, 219; Makron  227; Oltos  211, 221–3, 227, 254; Onesimos  190, 211, 226–7, 257; Sokles Painter  242–3; Sophilos  201, 241; Taleides Painter  225; Tyskiewicz Painter 223

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354  General Index Atreidae  33, 39, 43, 50, 66, 68, 106, 120–2, 184, 197–8, 202, 286, 297–301, (see also Agamemnon, Menelaus) Ἀτρείδης (epithet of Agamemnon)  33, 46, 123, 289–90; (epithet of Menelaus)  33, 57, 80, 88, 95, 107, 174–5, 288, 290, 298 Ἀτρέος υἱός (epithet of Menelaus)  33, 62, 89–90, 122, 157, 159, 238 attributes, typical  207, 208, 217, 219, 220, 221, 227, 244, 254 (see also iconography; informant) Ayios Vasileios (Sparta)  266 Beinahe-episoden  35, 69 (see also if not situations; Menelaus, fate) ‘bird’s eye view’  238 βοὴν ἀγαθός (epithet of Menelaus)  32–3, 42–4, 67, 69, 75, 78, 95, 96, 100, 127, 288 burial rites for Agamemnon  166–7; for Elpenor  124; for Phrontis  123, 124, 166–7 Cadmus 163 Castor (see Dioscuri) Catalogue of Ships  20, 42–5, 47, 51, 127, 184 Catreus  202, 297 cheir’ epi karpo  217, 221 (see also gesture) choral song  181–2, 203, 231, 260–1, 275, 282–3 chorus, depiction on vases  231, 261 Circe  143, 149, 152 ‘close up’  63 Clytaemnestra  46, 194, 298, 300 Crete  54, 125, 135, 162–3, 183–5, 202–3, 297 cult, of Achilles  288; of Agamemnon and Cassandra (Sparta)  23, 290; of Menelaus and Helen  2, 22–4, 34, 161, 166–7, 181–2, 258–84, 266, of Phrontis, 23, 123–4 (see also Therapne; foundation, cults of Menelaus) Cyclic epic, characterization in  181, 187, 203, 297; differences from Homer  129, 187, 189–90, 301; influenced by Homer  183, 190–2; shared traditional motifs with Homer  10, 134, 182, 198; use of ‘Cyclic’ themes by Homer  7, 13, 19–20, 102, 118, 144, 150, 183; in visual narrative  5–6, 204–5, 207, 210, 219, 226, 228, 251 Cypria  61, 76–7, 120, 123, 125, 129, 172, 177, 182–8, 191, 196, 203, 239, 287, 298–9, 301 Cypselus of Corinth, chest of  205, 208, 210, 214–15, 235

death-memorial (see burial rites, τύμβος) defence of corpse (see fight over a corpse; Achilles; Patroclus) Deiphobus  53, 145, 176, 188–90, 251, 297 Demaratus, mother of  261 Demodocus  145, 174–8, 189 dialectal inscriptions, Attic  223, 224, 226, 242, 244, 246, 283, 251, 254; Corinthian  213, 229, 240, 241, 293; Doric  229, 230, 231–2, 234, 256, 282; epic/Ionic  24, 240–1, 246, 256, 283; Laconian  277, 293 (see also inscriptions) Diomedes  16, 30–2, 40, 42, 44, 46–7, 48, 50, 67, 77, 78, 88, 105–6, 109, 122–3, 148–9, 152, 175–6, 189, 191, 196, 251, 254, 287 Διὸς βουλή (see Zeus, will of) Dioscuri  22, 25, 161, 183, 193, 194, 201, 203, 213, 260, 261, 285–9, 301 διοτρεφές (διοτρεφής) (epithet of Menelaus)  32, 33, 91, 94, 101, 110, 131, 133, 146, 160–1 Dolops  86–7, 91 doublet, characters  87, 89, 103, 152, 156, 189; episode  51, 71, 78 ‘dropped sword’  190, 211, 226 Egypt  123–5, 135–7, 150–1, 155, 158, 162, 164–7, 178, 191, 201, 260, 294 eidolon  155, 201 Eidothea  137, 151–4, 156–8, 165, 176 Ἠλύσιον πεδίον (see Elysium) Elysium  15, 21, 32, 66, 133, 160–6, 185, 258, 292, 301 embassy to Troy  55, 104, 164, 188, 206, 227, 231, 239, 241, 257, 289 Eos  209, 251, 253, 255 epic tradition  2, 4–10, 17–18, 24, 48, 68, 77, 91, 102–5, 116, 123, 139, 144, 146, 161, 163, 176, 189, 192, 196, 207, 292, 294, 299–300; traditional referentiality  2–4, 7, 12, 33–4, 91; Homeric interaction with  2, 7–13, 17–21, 31–5, 38–9, 45, 47–8, 50, 53, 54, 56, 58–70 passim, 68, 69, 104–5, 116–18, 120, 134, 139, 144, 146, 148–50, 163, 172, 176–8, 182, 184–5 290–2 (see also Cyclic epic) epithets  4, 11, 16–18, 25, 30–4 (see also Menelaus, epithets) Erembi 135 Eteoneus  119, 129–30, 170 Eumaeus  34–5, 124, 172, 174, 175–6 Eumelus  105, 109

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General Index  355 Eumelus (hist.)  301 ‘Euphorbos plate’  vi, 1, 22, 36, 90, 232–9, 245, 248, 256–7, 279, 282, 294 Euphorbus  1, 49, 58, 70, 86, 88, 90–3, 102–3, 111, 196, 234–8, 247–9 Eurotas River  258, 259, 260, 265, 266, 283, 286, 291 εὐρυβίης 285–91 Eurypontids 261 evocation  13; of tradition in Homeric portrayal of Menelaus  18, 20, 41, 50, 61, 70–1, 105–6, 116, 118, 123, 128–30, 132, 144, 185–6, 189 (see also allusion) fight over a corpse, type scene  86, 189; see also iconography, conventional folk-tale  20; character types  6, 9, 15,150–2, 292; in the Odyssey  20, 149, 159, 165 foundation stories  129; cults of Menelaus  167, 292 Funeral Games of Patroclus  16, 19, 37, 38, 39, 87, 104, 105–15, 116, 130, 140, 141, 241 gesture (on Athenian vases), see anakalypsis; cheir’ epi karpo gold, characteristic of Menelaus and Sparta  125, 132–3, 171 grieving  138 (see also Menelaus, grief of) guest-gifts of Menelaus and Helen (joint)  131, 133, (separate)  136–7, 156, 168, 170–4 Helen  v–vi, 14, 20–2, 32, 34, 46–7, 48, 55–6, 59–61, 65, 72, 74, 85, 103, 106, 108, 116, 117, 118, 126–9, 132–4, 134, 135, 137, 138–9, 141, 143–6, 147, 148, 155, 161, 163–4, 167, 170–3, 174, 176, 178, 181–5, 188–90, 197–202, 260, 289–95, 297–301; cause for war  40, 44–5, 47, 50–2, 53, 54, 171, 174; husbands of,  vi, 171, 171, 188–9, 193, 203, 260, 289–90, 291–2, 295; iconography of  22, 201, 204–27, 250, 256, 293 (see also Recovery of Helen); wife of Menelaus  213, 240, 276–9, 294; wooing of  41, 50, 132, 193–7, 203, 292, 298 (see also cult, of Menelaus and Helen) Hera  46, 57, 60–1, 64, 68–9, 73, 86, 131, 163, 171, 173, 185–6, 197–8, 208, 254–5, 270 Heracles  22, 23, 66, 161, 163, 187, 206, 287, 300 Heraclids  284, 301 Heraion, Argos  235; Samos  241 Hermione  127–9, 195, 201, 299–301

hero cult  23–4, 259, 263, 282 Hesiodic Catalogue of Women  v, 32, 41, 45, 106, 118, 129, 132, 145, 148, 161, 163, 165, 170, 171, 182, 183, 184, 188, 193–7, 198, 199, 200, 203, 251, 278, 287, 292, 297–301 ‘hollow Lacedaemon’  44, 47, 127 Homer, Homeric authorship  2–3; characterization, methodologies of  13–18; composition (overview)  2–6; and visual narrative  1–2, 21–4, 204–5, 228, 235–9, 241–2, 248–51, 252, 253–7, 293–4 (see also Cyclic epic; epic tradition; Iliad; Odyssey) horses, of the Atreidae  105–7, 111–17; horse-hospitality  131–2, 146 (see also Trojan horse) hospitality  130–3, 155, 164, 169, 184–5 (see also Menelaus, hospitality of; horse-) Hyperenor  86, 91, 92–3, 111 iconography overview  204, 209–11, 220–6, 230, 233, 234; conventional, abduction 217; arming 242–5; duel 1, 218–19, 235–9, 245–57 (see also Menelaus, duels); fight over a corpse  1, 189, 235, 237–8, 245–9, 251; flight  236, 247, 254–5; procession  227, 228, 230–2, 241; pursuit (erotic)  211, 212, 218, 221, 225, 226; (battlefield)  236, 237, 254, wedding  209–10, 213, 217, 221, 223, 225; see also Achilles, iconography; Ilioupersis; Recovery of Helen Idomeneus  42–4, 54, 67, 99, 125, 185, 202–3 if not situations (see Beinahe-episoden; Menelaus) Iliad  29–115 et passim; characterization of Menelaus in  v, 9, 13–20 et passim; interaction with tradition  41, 45–6, 47–54, 56–62, 68–70, 77, 102, 104, 116; intratextual allusion in  18, 20, 39, 68, 71, 88, 103, 108–9, 110, 111–12, 113–14, 116, 291 (see also intratextuality); and Aithiopis  19, 102–4, 249; and Cypria 61, 76–7, 183, 185–8; and Odyssey, influence on  11, 17, 18, 20, 116–18, 124, 130; different than  8–9, 17–20, 121–2, 132, 133–4, 140, 146, 161–2 (see also Homer, and visual narrative) Ilias excidium (Cyclic epic)  53, 120, 145, 176, 188–190, 205, 297 Ilias parva (Cyclic epic)  145, 176, 188–90, 201, 210, 226, 297

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356  General Index Ilioupersis (Stesichorus)  200–1 Ilioupersis iconography  190, 204–8, 210, 211, 215, 223, 225, 226, 240, 256 (see also Recovery of Helen) informant  21, 208–10, 211, 213, 216, 217, 223, 225, 227 (see also attributes; visual narrative, semiotic terminology in) inscriptions, for understanding Menelaus in Archaic art  24; as informants  208, 210, 223, 227–8; ‘balloon inscription’  231, 282; on Ischia cup  187; on votives  23, 24, 171, 213, 259, 261, 269, 274–84, 294; name-inscriptions  vi, 1, 24, 205–7, 223, 225–37, 239–48, 250–1, 253–4, 256, 282–3, 293; scene-labels  241 intertextuality overview  6–13; in Homeric character portrayal  15, 18–20; in portrayal of Menelaus  38–9, 68, 103, 105, 127, 129–30, 170, 172 (see also Odyssey, allusions to Iliad) intratextuality overview  13, 15–17; in Homeric character portrayal  18–20 (see also Iliad and Odyssey) Iris 186 Isles of the Blest  162–5 Judgement of Paris  46, 62, 199, 215 Kamiros, Rhodes  233 katabasis, Aeneas  193 *Menelaus  192; Odysseus 192 κοίλην Λακεδαίμονα κητώεσσαν (see ‘hollow Lacedaemon’) κόρος  82, 84, 138–9 Lacedaemonia  44, 47, 127, 183–4 Lesbos  122, 148–9, 197–8, 292, 299 ‘lying tales’ of Odysseus  124–5, 135, 163, 175–6 λώβη  72–3, 81–4, 104 Machaon  40, 66 ‘Magoula stele’  207, 212–14 μαλθακός  20, 34, 43, 98 (see also Menelaus, cowardice, hapaxes) Megapenthes  128–9, 170, 301 Meges  86, 91 Memnon  102, 141, 210, 247–9, 251, 253, 254, 255 Menelaion archaic shrine  vi, 22, 24, 259, 260, 261, 263, 264, 265–75, 276, 281, 283, 285;

Mycenaean settlement at  259, 265–7, 271–2; name (ancient attestation of)  259­, 263–4; (see also Therapne) Menelaion ridge (Laconia)  265 ‘Menelas stand’  228–32, 257, 260, 279, 282, 294 Menelaus in Homer, characterization of, apologia (Il. 13. 620–39)  58, 80, 81–6, 138–9; apostrophe  30, 34, 35, 37, 62–4, 73, 91, 99, 101; aristeia  38, 62, 74, 88–105, 110, 129, 148, 157, 237–38, 242, 248–50, 256–7; authority as a speaker  36, 110–11, 114, 119, 134, 146, 149, 151–2, 154, 172; αὐτόματος  42, 45, 75, 117; concern for justice  38, 47, 50, 58, 83, 111, 117, 164, 291; cowardice  66, 72, 77, 94; eagerness to fight  18, 20, 44–5, 59, 63, 75, 88–9, 95–6 99–101, 291; grief  90, 95, 129, 137–40, 143, 158, 159, 186–7; hospitality of  46, 54, 57–60, 82–6, 117, 129–33, 168–72, 184–5; misogyny  83; oaths  41, 50, 52–4, 83, 84, 108, 111–13, 164 (see also Tyndareus, oath of); perceptiveness/noticing  48, 78, 89, 100; persuadable  70–1, 74, 85, 101, 113–15, 122, 142; pliant/yielding  29, 39, 74, 77–8, 83, 98, 107, 114–15, 116, 153–4, 176, 292, 297; reputation  18, 57, 77, 89, 92, 94, 98, 110, 115, 196, 291; sententiousness  30, 53, 55, 81–6, 113–14, 133, 138, 148–9, 155, 187; sympathy  2, 16, 29–30, 34, 37, 38, 43, 51, 62, 66, 71–2, 75, 77, 88–9, 95–6, 102, 114–15, 171, 291; vulnerability  16–17, 63, 66, 69, 74, 97; wounding of  40, 61–7, 148 (see also allusion); Homeric diction and rhetoric for, character-quoted direct speech  36, 111–12; epithets  16–18, 25, 30–4 (see also ἀρηΐφιλος, Ἀτρείδης, Ἀτρέος υἱός, βοὴν ἀγαθός, διοτρεφές, ξανθός); hapaxes  30, 34, 55, 97, 98 (see also οὐδ᾽ ἀφαμαρτοεπής, μαλθακός); if not situations  30, 35, 59, 74; monologue  93–4; name  30–1, 96; priamel  84–5; similes  30, 34, 36–7, 49–50, 52, 62–4, 79–81, 90–4, 97, 99–100, 103, 107, 109, 113–14, 148, 149; Homeric rhetoric of  30, 34–8, 72–3, 91, 138 (see also sententiousness); point of view  14, 36, 42, 45, 47–8, 50–1, 57, 71, 75, 80, 81–6, 89, 100, 106–15, 160, 292; ‘best’  vi, 193, 197, 199–200, 203; cult of (see cult of Menelaus and Helen; foundation, cults); divinity of  vi, 21, 22–3,

OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 03/07/20, SPi

General Index  357 110, 131, 133, 163, 259–64, 279–82, 291, 293–4; duels  1, 18, 33–5, 38, 41, 47–61, 71–4, 83–5, 99, 108, 115, 116, 218–9, 227, 235–9, 245–57, 289; function in Trojan War  2, 18, 29, 33, 35, 36, 38–40, 45, 46, 47, 51, 60–2, 65–8, 75, 80–1, 85, 104–5, 116, 161, 186, 197, 291; kin  33–4, 195–6, 202–3, 289–91, 294–5, 297–301; relationships, with Agamemnon  21, 41–5, 47, 69–71, 74–78, 106, 117–18, 120–2, 125, 127, 137, 139–40, 177–8, 202–3, 292; Antilochus  19–20, 39, 68–9, 83–4, 86–7, 102, 104–5, 114–17, 123, 134, 140–3, 153–4, 196, 248–50, 291–2; the gods  32–3, 36–7, 48, 52–3, 56–8, 60–3, 65–6, 68–9, 81–4, 86, 122, 127–8, 131–3, 136, 138, 148, 151–5, 157–8, 161, 163–4, 167, 186, 197, 203 (see also Zeus, protector of Menelaus); Helen  20–2, 34, 45–7, 51–2, 117–18, 127–9, 132–4, 139, 144–5, 173, 178, 189–90, 193–6, 198–200, 202–3, 205–6, 257, 262–3, 278, 281, 290–3; Odysseus overview  116–18, 129, 141, 144–5, 147, 167–8, 170, 172, 174–8; as paradigm/foil for Odysseus  116–17, 120, 122–6, 127, 128, 144, 146, 149, 152, 155–9, 175; fate compared with Odysseus’  165–6, 168, 178; grief for Odysseus  138–41, 143; return Menelaus’  117–18, 120–6, 133, 134–7, 158, 167–8, 185–6, 191–3; compared to Odysseus’  116–17, 125, 131, 134–7, 163, 172, 178, 198; rank in army  42, 43–4, 67, 77–8, 101, 113, 239–41; wealth  83, 125, 132–4, 137, 158, 167, 172, 178, 193–7, 199, 203, 292 Menestheus  242–3, 287 ‘mental mould’  15–17, 92, 113 Meriones  79, 88, 99, 100, 102 monologue  30, 36, 93 (see also Menelaus) Mycenae  23, 61, 202, 299, 300–1 ‘Mykonos pithos’  204–5, 207–8, 211, 215, 216 name-label (see inscriptions, name) narrator, secondary Helen  54, 143–5; Menelaus  18, 117–18; 127, 134–40, 145, 146–51, 156–60, 167–8; Nestor  119–26; Odysseus  146, 167, 178 narratorial address  34–5, 37 (see also apostrophe) nekyia  12, 174, 177–8

Neleidae  140 (see also Nestor, Antilochus, Peisistratus) Neoptolemus  128, 215, 216, 251 Nereids  150, 243 Nereus  150, 152, 155, 206, 286 Nestor  13, 20, 30, 40, 42, 44–6, 53, 74, 75–7, 106, 114, 117, 119, 120–9, 131, 134–7, 141–2, 151, 153, 163, 166–7, 169, 171, 178, 185–8, 189, 191, 198, 202, 289–90, 292, 299 ‘nonce mention’  21, 117, 177 νόος (of the gods)  122, 159 Nosti (Cyclic poem)  150, 182, 190–3 Nostoi (Stesichorus)  155, 172–3, 201–2 nostos (see individual characters, return) nucleus  208–10, 211 (see also visual narrative, semiotic terminology in) ξανθός (epithet of Menelaus)  32–3, 90, 161, 164, 195, 197, 200, 288 oaths  41, 50, 52–4, 83–4, 108, 111–3, 164, 183, 188, 195–6, 200 (see also Tydareus, oath of) Odysseus  v, 2, 6, 7, 9, 13, 17, 20, 34, 42, 44, 55, 78, 88, 89, 97, 102, 115, 116–18, 120, 122–6, 127, 128, 129, 131, 133–6, 138–41, 143, 144, 145, 146, 147–9, 150, 151, 152, 155–60, 161, 163, 165–8, 169, 170, 171, 173, 174–8, 188, 189, 191, 192, 195, 197, 198, 232, 239–42, 243, 247, 251, 291; apology of  149; fate of  117, 165–6, 168; Menelaus’ information about  145, 147–9, 159–60, 174 compared to Menelaus  20, 55–6, 116–18, 129, 136, 144–5, 156, 159, 166–7, 170 (see also Menelaus) Odyssey  116–78 et passim; allusions to Iliad  11–12, 116–18, 120, 127–9, 131, 132–5, 138–9, 140–4, 146–9, 153–4, 170–2, 174–8, 182, 292; different than Iliad  8–9, 17–21, 120–2, 132, 133–4, 140, 146, 161–2, 178; interaction with epic tradition  7–11, 20, 77, 117–18, 120–1, 129, 132, 134, 144–6, 148–9, 159, 161–3, 167, 172, 176–8, 182, 185, 188–93; intratextual allusion in  127–9, 145, 148–9, 153, 158–60, 163, 171, 192 (see also intratextuality) Old Man of the Sea  150, 151, 152, 155 (see also Proteus) Olympia, shield-band dedications at  205, 213–15, 223, 239

OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 03/07/20, SPi

358  General Index ‘Onesimos cup’  190, 211, 226–7, 257 oresteia  123, 167, 191, 290, 300 Orestes  129, 191, 193, 294, 298, 300 ‘otherworld’ (ἄλλοθεν)  117, 119 οὐδ᾽ἀφαμαρτοεπής  34, 55, 86 see also Menelaus, hapaxes palimpsest  8–9; in Homeric character portrayal  9 (see also allusion) Pandarus  33, 38, 40, 53, 56, 62–3, 65–6, 68, 69, 73, 79, 83, 85, 148, 162 Panthous  91–2, 238 ‘parallel worlds’  1, 18, 23, 205, 293–4 Paris  18, 33–5, 38, 46, 47–62, 67, 69, 71–5, 79, 83, 84, 85, 89, 91, 93, 108, 115, 116, 125, 129, 130, 135, 144, 145, 171, 183–6, 188–9, 196, 199, 200, 201, 215, 218–219, 221, 223, 225, 236, 250, 251, 253–5, 256, 286, 297, 301 (see also Menelaus, duels; Judgement of Paris) parody  8, 12, 48, 56; of Menelaus, (Aristophanes) 85, (Euripides) 199 (see also allusion) Patroclus, defence of corpse  18–19, 34, 38, 79, 86, 88, 90–2, 94–6, 98, 100–4, 116, 128, 143, 236–9, 242, 245, 248–9, 253, 291 (see also Menelaus, duel) Pausanias (perigeta)  22, 23, 150, 161, 171, 206, 208–10, 215, 235, 251, 263, 264 Pausanias (son of Cleombrotus)  286, 288, 289 Peisandrus (Trojan)  80–1, 87 Peisistratus (son of Nestor)  20, 120, 123, 131–2, 138, 141–3, 146, 153, 168, 171–2 Peleus  v, 103, 129, 163, 195, 251, 289 Pelopidae  290, 295, 297, 299–301 Pelops  34, 195, 286, 289, 294, 297, 299–301 periodization, dating of the Archaic period v; pottery chronology  268 Persian wars  204, 257, 285, 290, 295 Pharos  122, 150–1, 153–4, 155, 158 ‘Phoebaion’ at Sparta  260 (see also Amyclae, cult of Apollo) Phoenicia  135–6, 171 Phoenix  96, 104, 129 Phrontis  23, 123–4, 166–7 (see also burial rites) Plataea, battle of  284, 285–7, 289 Plato  2, 43, 98, 296 Pleisthenes  295, 297–301 Πλεισθενίδας  173, 298

Podes 97–8 Pollux (see Dioscuri) Polyphemus 149 Polyphemus vases, (Eleusis)  204–5, 230, 232; (Argos)  232; (Rome)  232 (see also ‘Aristonothos krater’) Poseidon  23–4, 112, 154–5, 158, 274, 288–9, 293 Priam  40, 41, 46, 52, 54, 61, 65, 170, 171, 185, 188, 199, 215, 225, 227, 286 Priam, sons of  18, 20, 46, 52–3, 61, 72, 74, 79, 83, 85, 113, 203, 291 priamel 84–5 prophecy  32, 66, 74, 149, 151–66, 172, 203, 292; self-reflexive trope  12 (see also allusion); in the portrayal of Menelaus  15, 20, 124, 151, 160–1, 166–7, 174 (see also Menelaus, fate) Proteus  15, 20, 21, 118, 122, 124, 132, 134, 137, 146, 149–52, 154–66, 168, 185, 201, 206, 258, 301 Pythagoras 235 quarrel, of Agamemnon and Achilles  80, 120, 140; of Agamemnon and Menelaus  74, 117–18, 120–2, 191, 192–3; of Antilochus and Menelaus, 83, 109–110, 112, 141 quotation  7–8, 10, 13; in portrayal of Menelaus  18–20, 38, 45, 47, 56, 68, 75, 90, 120, 138–9, 141, 143, 153, 170, 171 (see also allusion) ransom 70–1 ‘Raubitschek plate’  205 ‘recalling/remembering’ self-reflexive trope  12, 18; in portrayal of Menelaus  54–6, 59, 60, 68, 117, 142–3, 177–8 (see also allusion) Recovery of Helen (iconography)  21–2, 206, 207–27, 250, 256–7, 293 (see also Ilioupersis iconography) recruitment expedition (see Trojan War, recruitment for) repetition  7, 10–13; in Homeric character portrayal  15–18 (see also mental mould) retribution, formula of  45–6 re-use  10–11; of Iliadic verses in the Odyssey  131 (see also allusion, quotation) Return of the Atreidae  190–3 (see also Nosti [Cyclic poem])

OUP CORRECTED PROOF – FINAL, 03/07/20, SPi

General Index  359 ‘salient detail’  235 sceptre  34, 110, 297 seals 155–7 self-reflexive tropes of allusion  12, 18, 20–1, 35, 54, 60, 68, 174–7 in portrayal of Menelaus  35, 54, 160–1 (see also prophecy; ‘recalling/remembering’; song-within-a-song; trickery) shield-bands (Argive-Corinthian)  205, 213–15, 223, 234, 239 (see also Olympia) Siana cup  219 Sidon, Helen and Paris’ visit to  171, 185–6 Sidonians, reputation of  135–6; gifts  170–1 (see also Phoenicia) similes, Homeric use of  17, 30, 34–7, 49, 99, 100, 147, 157 (see also Menelaus, similes) song-within-a-song  12; for portrayal of Menelaus  120–6; 134–7, 143–6, 176–7 (see also allusion) sons of Menelaus  128–9, 170, 301 ‘Sophilos dinos’ (Games of Patroclus)  241 Sounion  23, 123–4, 166–7 source text  12, 18, 20, 118, 121, 125, 127, 151, 155, 161, 201 Sparta  vi, 2, 20, 22, 23–5, 34, 50, 53, 54, 55, 59, 61, 116–20, 125, 126–8, 131, 134, 136–7, 144, 146, 150, 153, 161, 168–73, 178, 183–5, 197, 201, 203, 205, 211, 213, 214, 221, 242–3, 258–9, 261–6, 268–70, 273–6, 278, 282–4, 285–91, 294–5, 300–1 ‘speaking name’ (see Megapenthes, Eidothea, Phrontis, Proteus) Suagros  286, 289, 301 substitution for Achilles  Diomedes  67; Menelaus  74, 103, 105, 245, 291 (see also doublet) Talthybius  66, 239 Teiresias  124, 149, 154, 156, 158–60, 165 Theano  239, 241 Theoclymenus 126 theophanic moment  156 Therapne  22, 181, 203, 231, 258–84, 285, 290, 294 (see also Menelaion) Thersites 73 tile stamps, at the Menelaion  264, 267, 273–5 τιμή of Menelaus  39–40, 47, 52, 59, 68, 74, 93–4 trickery, self-reflexive trope  175–6, used by Antilochus, 106, 111, Aphrodite  59, 67; Athena  62–3, 169; Clytaemnestra  137;

Menelaus  149, 155, 157, Odysseus  175–6; Zeus  60–1 (see also allusion) Trojan horse  20, 145, 176, 201, 211 Trojan War, beginning of  38, 47–8, 56, 71; recruitment for  76, 177–8, 186–8; end of  53, 56, 60–1, 71–2, 76, 86, 89, 96, 104–5; in visual narrative, see Ilioupersis iconography (see also Menelaus, function in) truce (Il. 3–4)  33, 50, 52–3, 56, 62, 84, 85, 111–12 τύμβος, of Agamemnon  166–7, *of Menelaus  65, 258 Tyndareus, oath of  41, 50, 183, 188, 195, 196; sons of  286, 287 (see also Dioscuri) type scenes  15, 30, 48, 58, 67, 69, 78, 79, 81, 86, 88, 89, 91, 95, 120, 131, 134, 138, 146, 151–2, 156, 166, 170, 171, 184 typology in literary narrative  3–4 (see also type scenes); on Athenian vases, see attributes; iconography; see also visual narrative Underworld  133, 149, 159 uxorilocality 300 visual narrative overview  1–2, 21–4, 204–6; criteria for identification  208–9; semiotic terminology in  21, 208–10; vs. ‘descriptive images’  22, 210, 211, 220, 231–2, 237, 239 (see also iconography; Homer, and visual narrative) vocative address (see apostrophe) wealth of the Atreidae  195 (see also Menelaus, wealth) wedding feast at Sparta  127–8 wooing of Helen  41, 54, 183, 195–6, Agamemnon’s assistance in  106, 193–4, 203, 292 (see also Helen, wooing of) Zeus  8, 12, 17, 33, 38, 52–3, 56–8, 60–2, 68, 76, 82–4, 86, 91–3, 96, 99, 106, 108, 112, 120, 124, 130, 132, 148, 158, 163–4, 171, 173, 186, 195–6, 263, 286, 297, 301; epithets (ἄνα)  57, (πάτερ)  57–8, 82, 87, 91–2, 108, 148, (ξείνιος)  84; husband of Hera  171, 173; in visual narrative  227, 251; protector of Menelaus  33, 38, 52, 56–58, 60, 82–4, 96; will of  8, 12, 76, 120, 164, 186, 196