Erasing the Past: The Achaean Wall and Homeric Fame

At the end of book 7, Poseidon complains to Zeus about the building of the Achaean Wall. In the broader mythical tradition, the walls of Troy were build by Apollo and Poseidon, who were forced to work for pay for Laomedon as punishment for rebellion against Zeus. Laomedon reneged on their pay and that led to a sea monster attacking the city and eventually Herakles’ attack. At this moment in the epic, however, Poseidon’s primary concern seems to be his own fame:

Iliad 6. 442-463

“So the long-haired Achaeans were toiling,
But the gods were seated next to Zeus the lighting-lord
Watching the great effort of the bronze-girded Achaeans.
Poseidon the earth-shaker began the speeches among them.
“Father Zeus, is there really any mortal on the boundless earth
Who would still tell his idea or plans to the immortals?
Don’t you see that the long-haired Achaeans now
Have built a wall around their ships and have hollowed
Out a trench around it but they did not make sacrifices to the gods?
The fame of this wall will reach as far as the dawn’s rise
And they will forget the wall that Phoebos Apollo and I built
Wearing ourselves out in toil for the hero Laomedon.”

῝Ως οἳ μὲν πονέοντο κάρη κομόωντες ᾿Αχαιοί·
οἳ δὲ θεοὶ πὰρ Ζηνὶ καθήμενοι ἀστεροπητῇ
θηεῦντο μέγα ἔργον ᾿Αχαιῶν χαλκοχιτώνων.
τοῖσι δὲ μύθων ἦρχε Ποσειδάων ἐνοσίχθων·
Ζεῦ πάτερ, ἦ ῥά τίς ἐστι βροτῶν ἐπ’ ἀπείρονα γαῖαν
ὅς τις ἔτ’ ἀθανάτοισι νόον καὶ μῆτιν ἐνίψει;
οὐχ ὁράᾳς ὅτι δ’ αὖτε κάρη κομόωντες ᾿Αχαιοὶ
τεῖχος ἐτειχίσσαντο νεῶν ὕπερ, ἀμφὶ δὲ τάφρον
ἤλασαν, οὐδὲ θεοῖσι δόσαν κλειτὰς ἑκατόμβας;
τοῦ δ’ ἤτοι κλέος ἔσται ὅσον τ’ ἐπικίδναται ἠώς·
τοῦ δ’ ἐπιλήσονται τὸ ἐγὼ καὶ Φοῖβος ᾿Απόλλων
ἥρῳ Λαομέδοντι πολίσσαμεν ἀθλήσαντε.

Poseidon makes something of a procedural objection: The Greeks did not sacrifice before building the wall. Such neglect undermines the basic assumption of the Iliad, that sacrifices to the gods observe and in a way instantiate their honors and divine position. At some level, Poseidon’s concern is about the stability of honors drawn up in Hesiod’s Theogony> But he is also concerned about his own personal fame: he seems to articulate a zero-sum game of kleos, the fame of this wall will spread across the world and the wall he built will be forgotten. A scholiast makes a metapoetic inference here;

Schol. bT ad Hom. Il. 7.7.451

“perhaps this is because of the poetry. For the wall is a subject of song thanks to it, not because it was built by the Greeks, but because it appears in Homer because of the battle around it.”

ex. τοῦ δ’ ἤτοι κλέος ἔσται, <ὅσην τ’ ἐπικίδναται ἠώς>: ἴσως διὰ τὴν ποίησιν αὐτοῦ· διὰ γὰρ ταύτην τὸ τεῖχος ἀοίδιμόν ἐστιν, οὐ δομηθὲν τοῖς ῞Ελλησιν, ἀλλ’ ῾Ομήρῳ γενόμενον ἕνεκεν τῆς ἐπ’ αὐτῷ μάχης.

Zeus responds to this complaint somewhat dismissively, but with a prediction for the future

Then cloud gathering Zeus addressed him,
“Come on, broad-strength, earthshaker what a thing to say!
Any other one of the gods would fear this thought,
One whose hands and drive are much weaker than yours.
Your fame will certainly reach as far as dawn’s rise.
Go when the long-haired Achaeans turn back
To go home to their dear land with their ships
And break the walls, pouring it all into the sea
And covering the broad beach with sand once again
So then you will erase the great wall of the Achaeans.”

Τὸν δὲ μέγ’ ὀχθήσας προσέφη νεφεληγερέτα Ζεύς·
ὢ πόποι ἐννοσίγαι’ εὐρυσθενές, οἷον ἔειπες.
ἄλλός κέν τις τοῦτο θεῶν δείσειε νόημα,
ὃς σέο πολλὸν ἀφαυρότερος χεῖράς τε μένος τε·
σὸν δ’ ἤτοι κλέος ἔσται ὅσον τ’ ἐπικίδναται ἠώς.
ἄγρει μὰν ὅτ’ ἂν αὖτε κάρη κομόωντες ᾿Αχαιοὶ
οἴχωνται σὺν νηυσὶ φίλην ἐς πατρίδα γαῖαν
τεῖχος ἀναρρήξας τὸ μὲν εἰς ἅλα πᾶν καταχεῦαι,
αὖτις δ’ ἠϊόνα μεγάλην ψαμάθοισι καλύψαι,
ὥς κέν τοι μέγα τεῖχος ἀμαλδύνηται ᾿Αχαιῶν.

Notice how Zeus repeats Poseidon’s chief concern about his fame spreading as far as the dawn spreads (σὸν δ’ ἤτοι κλέος ἔσται ὅσον τ’ ἐπικίδναται ἠώς) and authorizes him to destroy the Achaean wall once the war is over. He confirms, in a way, Poseidon’s concerns about the zero-sum game of the walls, but does not really reflect on that metapoetic potential of the destruction of the walls to create a memory that exceeds that of the objects themselves. In a book like Iliad 7, where Hektor has made so much of the potential of a tomb on the Hellespont to ensure the kleos of himself and the man he kills, Poseidon’s promise to obliterate the structures on the shore threatens to undermine such faith in the physical monument in preference, perhaps, to the story being told.

This passage has some interesting political implications: in a way, Poseidon’s concern about the loss of his fame is not dissimilar to Achilles’ or Agamemnon’s worry about their loss of gerai and timai (prizes and honor), but there are also some metaphysical turns too: the gods evince a lack of knowledge about the future and a deep concern for human recognition.

But for Homeric scholars, one of the most troubling aspects of this passage is that some of it comes up again. According to the scholia, editors at the time of Zenodotus and Aristophanes of Byzantium, as well as Aristarchus, Athetized this entire section “about the destruction of the wall [because the poet] talks about it during the battle around the walls (12.3-35)” (ὅτι περὶ τῆς ἀναιρέσεως τοῦ τείχους λέγει πρὸ τῆς τειχομαχίας, Schol A. ad Hom. Il. 7.443). The ancient scholar Porphyry adds that it seems somewhat improper that heroes would build this wall and in addition illogical that it would take the gods nine days to erase what the Greeks built in a single day (Homeric Questions ad Il. 12)

Thucydides even gets in on this game when he says that the Achaeans constructed fortifications at the beginning of the war (1.9-11, leading some scholars like D. L. Page to surmise that Thucydides’ Iliad did not have an Achaean wall built in book 7). Such differences in detail have led some to see interpolation in book 7 or evidence for multiple authorship. I think that’s mostly nonsense and that there are good structural reasons for the repetition and the difference.

The description that comes in book 12 is much more elaborate:

Iliad 12.1-33

“So, while the valiant son of Menoitios was tending
To wounded Eurupulos in the tents, the Argives and Trojans
Were fighting in clusters. The ditch and the broad wall beyond
Were not going to hold, the defense they built for the ships
And the trench they made around it. They did not sacrifice to the gods
So that it would safeguard the fast ships and the piled up spoils
Held within it. It was built without the gods’ assent,
And so it would not remain steadfast for too much.
As long as Hektor was alive and Achilles was raging,
And as long as the city of lord Priam remained unsacked,
That’s how long the great wall of the Achaeans would be steadfast.

But once however so many of the Trojans who were the best died
Along with many of the Argives who killed them, and the rest left,
And Priam’s city was sacked in the tenth year,
And the Argives went back to their dear homeland in their ships,
That’s when Poseidon and Apollo were planning
To erase the wall by turning the force of rivers against it.
All the number of the rivers that flow from the Idaian mountains to the sea,
Rhêsos, and Heptaporos, and Karêsos, and Rhodios,
And the Grênikos, and Aisêpos, and divine Skamandros
Along with Simoeis, where many ox-hide shields and helmets
Fell in the dust along with the race of demigod men.
Phoibos Apollo turned all of their mouths together
And sent them flowing against the wall for nine days.
And Zeus sent rain constantly, to send the walls faster to the sea.
The earthshaker himself took his trident in his hands
And led them, and he sent all the pieces of wood and stone
Out into the waves, those works the Achaeans toiled to make
And he smoothed out the bright-flowing Hellespont,
And covered the broad beach again with sands,
Erasing the wall, and then he turned the rivers back again,
He sent their beautiful flowing water back to where it was before.”

῝Ως ὃ μὲν ἐν κλισίῃσι Μενοιτίου ἄλκιμος υἱὸς
ἰᾶτ’ Εὐρύπυλον βεβλημένον· οἳ δὲ μάχοντο
᾿Αργεῖοι καὶ Τρῶες ὁμιλαδόν· οὐδ’ ἄρ’ ἔμελλε
τάφρος ἔτι σχήσειν Δαναῶν καὶ τεῖχος ὕπερθεν
εὐρύ, τὸ ποιήσαντο νεῶν ὕπερ, ἀμφὶ δὲ τάφρον
ἤλασαν· οὐδὲ θεοῖσι δόσαν κλειτὰς ἑκατόμβας·
ὄφρά σφιν νῆάς τε θοὰς καὶ ληΐδα πολλὴν
ἐντὸς ἔχον ῥύοιτο· θεῶν δ’ ἀέκητι τέτυκτο
ἀθανάτων· τὸ καὶ οὔ τι πολὺν χρόνον ἔμπεδον ἦεν.
ὄφρα μὲν ῞Εκτωρ ζωὸς ἔην καὶ μήνι’ ᾿Αχιλλεὺς
καὶ Πριάμοιο ἄνακτος ἀπόρθητος πόλις ἔπλεν,
τόφρα δὲ καὶ μέγα τεῖχος ᾿Αχαιῶν ἔμπεδον ἦεν.

αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ κατὰ μὲν Τρώων θάνον ὅσσοι ἄριστοι,
πολλοὶ δ’ ᾿Αργείων οἳ μὲν δάμεν, οἳ δὲ λίποντο,
πέρθετο δὲ Πριάμοιο πόλις δεκάτῳ ἐνιαυτῷ,
᾿Αργεῖοι δ’ ἐν νηυσὶ φίλην ἐς πατρίδ’ ἔβησαν,
δὴ τότε μητιόωντο Ποσειδάων καὶ ᾿Απόλλων
τεῖχος ἀμαλδῦναι ποταμῶν μένος εἰσαγαγόντες.
ὅσσοι ἀπ’ ᾿Ιδαίων ὀρέων ἅλα δὲ προρέουσι,
῾Ρῆσός θ’ ῾Επτάπορός τε Κάρησός τε ῾Ροδίος τε
Γρήνικός τε καὶ Αἴσηπος δῖός τε Σκάμανδρος
καὶ Σιμόεις, ὅθι πολλὰ βοάγρια καὶ τρυφάλειαι
κάππεσον ἐν κονίῃσι καὶ ἡμιθέων γένος ἀνδρῶν·
τῶν πάντων ὁμόσε στόματ’ ἔτραπε Φοῖβος ᾿Απόλλων,
ἐννῆμαρ δ’ ἐς τεῖχος ἵει ῥόον· ὗε δ’ ἄρα Ζεὺς
συνεχές, ὄφρά κε θᾶσσον ἁλίπλοα τείχεα θείη.
αὐτὸς δ’ ἐννοσίγαιος ἔχων χείρεσσι τρίαιναν
ἡγεῖτ’, ἐκ δ’ ἄρα πάντα θεμείλια κύμασι πέμπε
φιτρῶν καὶ λάων, τὰ θέσαν μογέοντες ᾿Αχαιοί,
λεῖα δ’ ἐποίησεν παρ’ ἀγάρροον ᾿Ελλήσποντον,
αὖτις δ’ ἠϊόνα μεγάλην ψαμάθοισι κάλυψε
τεῖχος ἀμαλδύνας· ποταμοὺς δ’ ἔτρεψε νέεσθαι
κὰρ ῥόον, ᾗ περ πρόσθεν ἵεν καλλίρροον ὕδωρ.

I don’t think that the ancient editors had much reason to athetize the passage from book 7. The two passages do very different things and where they fall in the epic matters. The first comes during a place in the plot where it makes sense for the wall to be built and Poseidon complains appropriately. The themes emphasized in the first section echo Hektor’s emphasis on kleos in book 5 and help to situate the Achaean Wall generally in time.

The wall’s second showing takes us into the future, just as the epic battle is about to increase in intensity and confusion. There no mention of kleos in the proleptic destruction of the wall. But there are several markers of the passage of time: the wall is related to the action of the story being told (it will last as long as Hektor lives and Achilles rages), it is situated within the Trojan War tradition (it will last through the sack of Troy), and it is marked as part of the destruction of the race of heroes, placing it in a cosmic outlook.

Red figure vase: Poseidon with a trident and a fish. Tondo of an Attic red-figured kylix. From Etruria.
Poseidon with fish; c. 520-510; National Museum of Denmark; Beazley ARV2 (1963) 59.57,

Lorenzo Garcia notes that the wall is in a way a metonym: “The wall—itself a stand-in for Achilles, as I argued above—here functions as an image of the tradition itself and its view of its own temporal durability” (2013, 191). Then he draws on Ruth Scodel’s work (1982) to note that this narrative necessarily positions the wall and the actions around it in a larger cosmic framework:

“ Scodel notes the general character of these narratives as marking a greater separation between gods and men; the former race of demigods (ἡμιθέων γένος ἀνδρῶν, XII 23) [20] is wiped out in a massive destructive event that brings the entire age to a decisive end. [21] What I wish to emphasize is the implication that in Iliad XII the Achaean wall is linked not merely with the figure of Achilles, for whom it functions as substitute, but with the entire heroic age which is to come to an end.”

I would like to add to this that the position of this temporal reminder at the middle of the epic, in the very book in which the wall is breached, is of structural significance. If we follow models of performance that split the Iliad into three movements, then the first mention of the Achaean walls’ destruction comes during a different performance. The secondary mention, then, is both a reminder and an expansion. It emphasizes different themes (extinction, destruction, erasure) in contrast to the former. And, in line with Homeric composition in general, it amplifies the discussion, taking the audience outside of the timeline of the Iliad temporarily before plunging us back into the chaos of war.

One final note on these passages: the balance of memory and forgetting, so clearly set out by Poseidon, appears to be tilted by divine agency. The verb that repeatedly marks Poseidon’s actions towards the Greek walls, amalduno, appears only in these particular passages in Homer. A scholion glosses it as coming from plunging into the sea (<ἀμαλδῦναι:> καθ’ ἅλμης δῦναι), perhaps responding both to Poseidon’s activity as a sea god and the cultural fear of the oblivion that comes from a death by shipwreck. Another place where this verb shows up in early Greek poetry is Bacchylides (14.1-6)

“Having good luck from god
Is the best thing for mortals.
But heavy-suffering accident
Can wipe out a good person
Even as it can raise a bad person on high
If it straightens them out.”

Εὖ μὲν εἱμάρθαι παρὰ δαίμ[ονος ἀν]θρώ-
ποις ἄριστον·
[σ]υμφορὰ δ’ ἐσθλόν <τ’> ἀμαλδύ-
[νει β]αρύτλ[α]τος μολοῦσα
[καὶ τ]ὸν κακ[ὸν] ὑψιφανῆ
τεύ[χει κ]ατορθωθεῖσα·…

Here, instead of Poseidon or some other god, the force that “obliterates” is chance. Yet, this force seems to be one that implies layers of judgment, perhaps allowing for the fact that what survives for memory isn’t always the worthiest, just the luckiest. In this way, we can read Poseidon’s destruction of the Achaean walls as an act that attempts to erase one thing in favor of another, leaving open the possibility that narrative can outlast the erasure even as memory is no guarantee of virtue.

A Short bibliography on the Achaean Wall

Garcia, Lorenzo F., Jr. 2013. Homeric Durability: Telling Time in the Iliad. Hellenic Studies Series 58. Washington, DC: Center for Hellenic Studies. 

Heiden, B. (1996). The three movements of the iliad. Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies, 37(1), 5-22. Retrieved from https://www.proquest.com/scholarly-journals/three-movements-iliad/docview/229178418/se-2

Maitland, Judith. “Poseidon, Walls, and Narrative Complexity in the Homeric Iliad.” The Classical Quarterly 49, no. 1 (1999): 1–13. http://www.jstor.org/stable/639485.

PORTER, JAMES I. “Making and Unmaking: The Achaean Wall and the Limits of Fictionality in Homeric Criticism.” Transactions of the American Philological Association (1974-) 141, no. 1 (2011): 1–36. http://www.jstor.org/stable/41289734.

Purves, Alex.  2006a. “Falling into Time in Homer’s Iliad.” Classical Antiquity 25:179–209.

Scodel, Ruth. “The Achaean Wall and the Myth of Destruction.” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 86 (1982): 33–50. https://doi.org/10.2307/311182.

H. W. Singor. “The Achaean Wall and the Seven Gates of Thebes.” Hermes 120, no. 4 (1992): 401–11. http://www.jstor.org/stable/4476919.

Tsagarakis, Odysseus. “The Achaean Wall and the Homeric Question.” Hermes 97, no. 2 (1969): 129–35. http://www.jstor.org/stable/4475580.

West, M. L. “The Achaean Wall.” The Classical Review 19, no. 3 (1969): 255–60. http://www.jstor.org/stable/707716.

Divine Plots and Human Plans: Reading Iliad 7

Book 7 can be split into three basic parts: an initial scene where the gods Apollo and Athena decide to orchestrate a duel; the centerpiece of the book which is duel between Hektor and Ajax; and the final third of the book which includes political assemblies among the Trojans and the Greeks that result in a brief armistice for the burial of the dead. The Achaeans, following Nestor’s guidance, use this moment as an opportunity to construct defensive barriers in front of their ships, since this is the first time in the conflict that the Trojans have pushed close enough to threaten them. The book ends with Poseidon grumbling that these new walls may become more famous and lasting than the walls he and Apollo built around the city of Troy.

Each of the major scenes in book 7 contributes critically to some of the major themes I have noted to follow in reading the Iliad: (1) Politics, (2) Heroism; (3) Gods and Humans; (4) Family & Friends; (5) Narrative Traditions. But the central themes I emphasize in reading and teaching book 5 are gods and humans, heroism,  and politics. The opening conceit where the gods arrange the action of the book calls into question human decision making, agency, and free will; Hektor’s speech to challenge the Achaeans to a duel frames his few of heroic fame (kleos); and the Trojan assembly, followed by the delivery of a proposal to the Achaean assembly, provides a unique opportunity to compare Trojan and Achaean politics.

Homeric Heroes and Their Decisions

Classic debates from the 20th century about Homeric poetry from the secondary through the post-graduate level involve some variation on the relationship between fate and free will. When it comes to heroic behavior and divine intervention, this can get a bit involved: there are situations that seem somewhat clear (as when Athena pulls Achilles back by the hair in book 1 to keep him from drawing his sword and killing Agamemnon) and those that are less clear (in the same book, the narrative assertion that Hera inspired Achilles to call the assembly is not supported by any other evidence). 

Evaluating these situations can be difficult for the audience external to the poem because we have nearly synoptic knowledge on what is going on. At times, we see the gods directly intervening and telling characters to do this and then the humans eventually realize they have been duped (see Athena as Deiphobos with Hektor in book 22); while in others, there are levels of obfuscation as when Zeus sends a ‘false’ dream to Agamemnon that promises him the Achaeans will be victorious on the following day, to which Agamemnon responds by ‘testing’ his army (in book 2).

Distinguishing between what the narrator reveals to us, what is revealed to internal audiences (including Homeric mortals), and what is held back helps us see that there is a lot of complexity in how and why decisions are made. Human beings are not without some agency: While everything in the Iliad may be part of Zeus’ plan, no divinity seems to cause Agamemnon to reject Chryses’ ransom and insult Achilles in book 1, even though he seems to make some claim to that effect in book 19; nor does any god inspire Achilles to ask Zeus to honor him by making the Achaeans suffer.

Red figure vase showing Cassandra (on the left) offering a libation while her brother Hector (on the right) prepares to go to battle.
Attic red-figure kantharos by the Eretria Painter, ca. 425–420 BC.

At a broader thematic level, then, Homeric heroes make important choices. Within the action of the epic and its interwoven plot, however, there are moments in which the gods seem more in control than others.  Where Homeric characters seem ignorant of that fact, we see what scholars have called “double motivation” (or determination, or causality), following Albin Lesky. These moments offer interesting insights into Homeric views on human psychology, on theology, and on the limits of human knowledge about their own actions and motivations. On one level, we can see how human characters in the Iliad can use divine action as an excuse or explanation for their own behavior, without any clear reason for doing so. On another level, Homeric epic leaves ample room for reading different deterministic world views into the epic narrative.

I think the clearest guide for thinking about this comes from epic itself, this time the Odyssey. Near the beginning of the epic as he looks down on the mortal Aigisthus, who, despite divine advice to the contrary, has shacked up with Klytemnestra and helped murder Agamemnon, Zeus opines (Od. 1.32-34):

“Mortals! They are always blaming the gods and saying that evil comes from us when they themselves suffer pain beyond their lot because of their own recklessness.”

ὢ πόποι, οἷον δή νυ θεοὺς βροτοὶ αἰτιόωνται.
ἐξ ἡμέων γάρ φασι κάκ’ ἔμμεναι• οἱ δὲ καὶ αὐτοὶ
σφῇσιν ἀτασθαλίῃσιν ὑπὲρ μόρον ἄλγε’ ἔχουσιν

As I argue in my book on the Odyssey, I think this is a programmatic statement for the epic, inviting audiences to think about to what extent mortal decisions do impact their fate. And I don’t think this is all negative: if we can make our lives worse through our foolishness, certainly the opposite should be true, that we can ameliorate our fates through prudence.

Athena tells Apollo they should rouse Hektor to challenge one of the Achaeans to a one on one battle. The narrative information we get makes the causality somewhat clear, but not without some challenge (Il. 7.43-45).

 “So he spoke, and gray-eyed Athena did not disobey.

Then the dear child of Priam, Helenos, understood in his heart

Their plan, which was really pleasing to the gods as they planned.”

 

A scholion explains that this means he “thought of it through his prophetic power, not because he heard their voices. (Schol, D ad Il. σύνθετο θυμῷ: ὅτι μαντικῶς συνῆκεν οὐκ ἀκούσας αὐτῶν τῆς φωνῆς. As an audience, we know that the gods thought of this, but here we see that Hektor does not know where the plan comes from and we could interpret Helenos as independently coming up with an idea that the gods considered too.

Some guiding questions for Book 7

What is the impact of the different assembly scenes (Greek vs. Trojan)?

What purpose does the duel between Ajaz and Hektor serve?

How does this book help to characterize Agamemnon and Menelaus?

A short bibliography on Homeric decision making and ‘double motivation’

n.b this is not an exhaustive bibliography. If you’d like anything else included, please let me know.

Allan, William. “Divine Justice and Cosmic Order in Early Greek Epic.” The Journal of Hellenic Studies 126 (2006): 1–35. http://www.jstor.org/stable/30033397.

Finkelberg, Margalit (1995) “Patterns of Human Error in Homer.” JHS 115: 15-28. 

Gaskin, Richard. “Do Homeric Heroes Make Real Decisions?” The Classical Quarterly 40, no. 1 (1990): 1–15. http://www.jstor.org/stable/639307.

Lesky, Albin (1961) Gottliche und Menschliche Motivation im Homerischen Epos. Winter, Universitätsverlag: Heidelberg

Andrew Porter. “Human Fault and ‘[Harmful] Delusion’ (Ἄτη) in Homer.” Phoenix 71, no. 1/2 (2017): 1–20. https://doi.org/10.7834/phoenix.71.1-2.0001.

Scodel, Ruth. “Homeric Attribution of Outcomes and Divine Causation.” Syllecta Classica 29 (2018): 1-27. https://doi.org/10.1353/syl.2018.0001.

Segal, Charles. 1994. Singers, Heroes and Gods in the “Odyssey.” Ithaca.

Sharples, R. W. “‘But Why Has My Spirit Spoken with Me Thus?’: Homeric Decision-Making.” Greece & Rome 30, no. 1 (1983): 1–7. http://www.jstor.org/stable/642739.

Teffeteller, Annette. “Homeric Excuses.” The Classical Quarterly 53, no. 1 (2003): 15–31. http://www.jstor.org/stable/3556479.

Additional bibliography for book 7

n.b this is not an exhaustive bibliography. If you’d like anything else included, please let me know. Follow-up posts will address kleos and Trojan politics

Castiglioni, Barbara. “Menelaus in the « Iliad » and in the « Odyssey »: the anti-hero of πένθος.” Commentaria Classica, vol. 7, 2020, pp. 219-232.

Christensen, Joel P.. “Trojan politics and the assemblies of Iliad 7.” Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies, vol. 55, no. 1, 2015, pp. 25-51.

Davies, M.. “Nestor’s advice in Iliad 7.” Eranos, vol. LXXXIV, 1986, pp. 69-75.

Duban, J. M.. “Les duels majeurs de l’Iliade et le langage d’Hector.” Les Études Classiques, vol. XLIX, 1981, pp. 97-124.

Finglass, Patrick J.. “The ending of Iliad 7.” Philologus, vol. 150, no. 2, 2006, pp. 187-197.

Finkelberg, Margalit. “The sources of Iliad 7.” Colby Quarterly, vol. 38, no. 2, 2002, pp. 151-161.

Kullmann, Wolfgang. “Gods and Men in the Iliad and the Odyssey.” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 89 (1985): 1–23. https://doi.org/10.2307/311265.

Maitland, Judith. “Poseidon, Walls, and Narrative Complexity in the Homeric Iliad.” The Classical Quarterly, vol. 49, no. 1, 1999, pp. 1–13. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/639485. Accessed 17 Nov. 2023.

Roisman, Hanna M. “Nestor the Good Counsellor.” The Classical Quarterly 55, no. 1 (2005): 17–38. http://www.jstor.org/stable/3556237.

Strauss Clay, Jenny. “Homer’s epigraph: Iliad 7. 87-91.” Philologus, vol. 160, no. 2, 2016, pp. 185-196.

Trapp, Richard L. “Ajax in the ‘Iliad.’” The Classical Journal 56, no. 6 (1961): 271–75. http://www.jstor.org/stable/3294852.

No Space for Dionysus: Story and Meaning in Iliad 6

When I teach and write about Iliad 6 I usually find myself spending too much time thinking about Diomedes’ exchange with Glaukos and then breaking hearts with discussions of Hektor, Andromache, and Astyanax at the book’s end. In talking about the former, I typically spend most of my time going through Glaukos’ remarkable story, both for its content (Bellerophon!) and its impact (Diomedes declares them guest-friends). But before Diomedes delights in Glaukos’ ancestry, he tells his own story from myth.

Homer, Iliad 6. 130-140

For not even the son of Dryas, mighty Lykourgos,
Lasted long once he began to strive with the heavenly gods.
He;’ the one who chased the nurses of maddening Dionysus
Down the Nysian hill–all of them were dropping
Their wands to the ground because they were beaten
By man-slaying Lykourgos with a cattle-goad.
And Dionysus was frightened, so he immersed himself
In the salty waves where Thetis rescued the frightened child.
A powerful tremor had overcome him from the man’s shouting.
After that, the gods who live easily hated him
And Kronos’ son left him blind. And he didn’t last very long
After that, once he became hateful to all the immortal gods.”

οὐδὲ γὰρ οὐδὲ Δρύαντος υἱός, κρατερὸς Λυκόοργος,
δὴν ἦν, ὅς ῥα θεοῖσιν ἐπουρανίοισιν ἔριζεν·
ὅς ποτε μαινομένοιο Διωνύσοιο τιθήνας
σεῦε κατ᾿ ἠγάθεον Νυσήϊον, αἳ δ᾿ ἅμα πᾶσαι
θύσθλα χαμαὶ κατέχευαν, ὑπ᾿ ἀνδροφόνοιο Λυκούργου
θεινόμεναι βουπλῆγι. Διώνυσος δὲ φοβηθείς
δύσεθ᾿ ἁλὸς κατὰ κῦμα, Θέτις δ᾿ ὑπεδέξατο κόλπῳ
δειδιότα· κρατερὸς γὰρ ἔχε τρόμος ἀνδρὸς ὀμοκλῇ.
τῷ μὲν ἔπειτ᾿ ὀδύσαντο θεοὶ ῥεῖα ζώοντες,
καί μιν τυφλὸν ἔθηκε Κρόνου πάϊς· οὐδ᾿ ἄρ᾿ ἔτι δήν
ἦν, ἐπεὶ ἀθανάτοισιν ἀπήχθετο πᾶσι θεοῖσιν.

This is one of the few times in the Iliad where we find Dionysus mentioned at all. Indeed, the absence of Dionysus in our extant epic poetry is so marked that it led earlier generations of scholars to buy in to the Dionysian narrative of “a new god from the east”. (This argument was largely dispelled by the decipherment of Linear B which, surprise, shows ample evidence of Dionysus). One explanation for this absence has been generic: according to some, epic is properly the province of more rational gods like Athena and Apollo and Dionysus is more proper to lyric and tragedy. I am uncertain about this for two reasons: Apollo is not necessarily rational and we do have epic fragments (e.g. Panyasis) that shows wine and the forces of Dionysus as alive and well in epic verse.

If I were forced to give an answer on the spot about Dionysus’ absence from epic, I would suggest two thematic answers. First, as Elton Barker and I explore in Homer’s Thebes, the Iliad is interested in establishing the metaphysical boundaries of mortal human life. Even Herakles, as Achilles opines, is subject to death in its world view. Dionysus, as a child of a mortal mother and Zeus who becomes a god, challenges this fundamental feature of epic poetry. If mortals can become immortal, what’s the point of fighting, dying, and earning kleos. My second ‘idea’, which is much less well formed and perhaps just nonsense, is that our notion of Dionysus’ importance to the Greek pantheon might be skewed by the Athenocentric nature of our evidence for ancient Greece. Dionysus was extremely significant in Athenian cult and ritual (especially around Tragedy). I have a suspicion that the gods present in Homeric epic are there as much for their Panhellenic appeal as their generic importance.

File:Birth of Dionysos - House of Aion - Paphos Archaeological Park.jpg
The mosaics of the House of Aion date back to the fourth century A.D and lie close to the mosaics of Dionysus and Theseus. Five mythological scenes worth seeing are: “The bath of Dionysus”, “Leda and the Swan”, “Beauty contest between Cassiopeia and the Nereids”, “Apollo and Marsyas”, and the “Triumphant procession of Dionysus”.

In her Homeric Encyclopedia (2011) article on the topic, Renate Schlesier notes that Dionysus appears only four times in the Homeric epics, typically in situations “loosely associated with love and/or violent death” (210; to be fair, most situations in Homer could fall under this category).She adds that Dionysus does not seem to be a wine go in Homer, but that the language and motifs around him does seem to imply a knowledge of Maenadism.

The passage in the Iliad is explained as part of Dionysus’ conventional exile from Thebes and journeys through the east. A scholion summarizes it. 

Schol. D ad, Hom. Il. 6.130

“Dionysus, the child of Zeus and Semele, happened to be receiving purification under the guidance of Rheat among the Kybeloi of Phrydia. Once he completed the rites and received his acoutrement from the goddess, he traveled all over the world. He obtained his choruses and honors, while people were leading him everywhere. When he was present in Tharce, Lykourgos, son of Dryas, caused him pain, Hera was despising him, and drove him from the land with a gadfly. She attacked him and his caregivers. They happened to be engaging in sacred rites along with him. Driven by a god-made whip, he was rushing to punish the god. But [Dionysus] leapt into the sea beccause of fear where Thetis and Eurynome accepted him. Lykourgos did not commit irreverance without punishment. He paid a penalty mortals do.–for Zeus took his eyes from him. Many record this story, but Eumelos told the story first in his Europia.”

Διόνυσος, ὁ Διὸς καὶ Σεμέλης παῖς, ἐν Κυβέλοις τῆς Φρυγίας ὑπὸ τῆς ῾Ρέας τυχὼν καθαρμῶν, καὶ διαθεὶς τὰς τελετὰς, καὶ λαβὼν παρὰ τῆς θεᾶς τὴν διασκευὴν, ἀνὰ πᾶσαν ἐφέρετο τὴν γῆν, χορειῶν τε καὶ τιμῶν ἐτύγχανε, προηγουμένων τῶν ἀνθρώπων. Παραγενόμενον δὲ αὐτὸν εἰς τὴν Θρᾴκην, Λυκοῦργος ὁ Δρύαντος λυπήσας, ῞Ηρας μίσει, μύωπι ἀπελαύνει τῆς γῆς. καὶ καθάπτεται αὐτοῦ καὶ τῶν τούτου τιθηνῶν. ἐτύγχανον γὰρ αὐτῷ συνοργιάζουσαι. Θεηλάτῳ δ’ ἐπελαυνόμενος μάστιγι, τὸν θεὸν ἔσπευδε τιμωρήσασθαι. ῾Ο δὲ ὑπὸ δέους εἰς τὴν θάλασσαν καταδύνει, καὶ ὑπὸ Θέτιδος καὶ Εὐρυνόμης ὑπολαμβάνεται. ῾Ο οὖν Λυκοῦργος οὐκ ἀμισθὶ δυσσεβήσας, ἔδωκε τὴν ἐξ ἀνθρώπων δίκην. ἀφῃρέθη γὰρ πρὸς τοῦ Διὸς τοὺς ὀφθαλμούς. Τῆς ἱστορίας πολλοὶ ἐμνήσθησαν, προηγουμένως δὲ ὁ τὴν Εὐρωπίαν πεποιη κὼς Εὔμηλος. 

Christos Tsagalis provides the most in-depth discussion of this passage (that I know of). In The Oral Palimpsest, Tsagalis treats this passage first as a mythological paradeigma but then charts the language, especially the participle μαινομένοιο. Christos combs through similar language in the iIliad  to identify a thematic pattern that shows “interplay between the Dionysias metaphor in the myth of Lycurgus…and the meeting between Andromache and Hektor” (37). He draws attention to both Lykourgos and Hektor sharing the epithet “man=slaying”, Andromache being compared to a maenad, the fear felt by baby Dionysus and Astyanax, and the liminal dramatic space where the action of the myth and the meeting of Hektor and Andromache take place. Tsagalis uses this analysis–and more that probes the couple’s connection to Thebes–to suggest both the Dionysus does in fact belong to other poems and non Ionian traditions. In addition, the association of Andromache with a maenad engages with a larger mythical tapestry, “ changing (as far as Andromache is concerned) an Amazon with maenadic and warlike origins into a suffering wife and mother” (64).

Tsagalis was not the first to treat this scene, of course. M.B. Arthur sees the comparison as indicated that Andromache is moved out of her normal state of mind by anxiety and grief. Charles Segal demonstrates how Homeric language has been shifted to accommodate this image. I think we also need to consider the valence of the image of audiences who would have been more familiar with the range of meaning associated with Maenads. Imagine an audience familiar with stories like the Bacchae. Andromache as a maenad may be out of her mind from an authoritative male perspective, but she may also be considered rightfully so from a cosmic perspective. Her out-of-mindness stands both to mark her straining to break from the limited agency the siege of Troy (and her marriage to Hektor) imposes while also anticipating her ultimate marginalization by grief and his loss.

If we treat the internal references as a kind of simile where Hektor=Lykourgos and Astyanax=Dionysus, there may be additional pathos to consider. Hektor is clearly not god-hated, but he is a king who cannot stay within limits. The difference here is that Hektor commits no sacrilege and the infant child does not go on to be rescued by a goddess of the sea.

Regardless of the precise interpretation we offer, this is a good example of how fluidly integrated the motifs and themes of epic poetry are on both large and small scales. The story of Lykourgos in Diomedes’ speech is a lesson about angering the gods that Glaukos picks up on and responds to in his own narrative where his Bellerophon becomes hateful to the gods despite performing heroic deeds. So, the story Diomedes offers Glaukos is not a simple message to his addressee, but it is a dynamic narrative Glaukos ‘reads’ and uses to ‘decode’ the challenge Diomedes presents in the text. The correspondence between this scene in the middle of book 6 and the later presentation of Hektor, Andromache, and Astyanax relies on audience memory and interpretation, triangulating a level of understanding that requires both a knowledge of poetic convention and a sensitivity to the stories at play.

A short bibliography

Arthur, M.B.  “The Divided World of Iliad VI.”  In Reflections of Women in Antiquity, Helene Foley ed.  New York: Gordon and Breach Science Publishers, 1981, 19-44.    

Lightfoot, Jessica. “Something to do with Dionysus ? : dolphins and dithyramb in Pindar fragment 236 SM.” Classical Philology, vol. 114, no. 3, 2019, pp. 481-492. Doi: 10.1086/703823

Davies, Malcolm. “Homer and Dionysus.” Eikasmos, vol. 11, 2000, pp. 15-28.

Segal, C. “Andromache’s Anagnorisis: Formulaic Artistry in Iliad 75 (1971): 33-57. 

Suter, Ann. “Paris and Dionysos: iambos in the Iliad.” Arethusa, vol. 26, 1993, pp. 1-18.

Tsagalis, Christos. 2008. The Oral Palimpsest: Exploring Intertextuality in the Homeric Epics. Hellenic Studies Series 29. Washington, DC: Center for Hellenic Studies. http://nrs.harvard.edu/urn-3:hul.ebook:CHS_TsagalisC.The_Oral_Palimpsest.2008.

Mind Reading and Stolen Wits: The Encounter of Diomedes and Glaukos in Iliad 6

One of the most iconic scenes of the Iliad is the exchange between Glaucus and Diomedes in book 6. This scene comes in the middle of book 6, in part as a delaying technique while Hektor travels into the city. But it also continues part of the plot in book 6, where Diomedes wounded Athena and was warned not to attack any of the other gods.

Diomedes: Il. 6.123-129

“Bestie, who are you of mortal humans?
For I have never seen you before in this ennobling battle.
But now you stride out far ahead of everyone
In your daring—where you await my ash-wood spear.
Those who oppose my might are children of miserable parents!
But, if you are one of the immortals come down from the sky,
I don’t wish to fight with the sky-dwelling gods!”

τίς δὲ σύ ἐσσι φέριστε καταθνητῶν ἀνθρώπων;
οὐ μὲν γάρ ποτ’ ὄπωπα μάχῃ ἔνι κυδιανείρῃ
τὸ πρίν· ἀτὰρ μὲν νῦν γε πολὺ προβέβηκας ἁπάντων
σῷ θάρσει, ὅ τ’ ἐμὸν δολιχόσκιον ἔγχος ἔμεινας·
δυστήνων δέ τε παῖδες ἐμῷ μένει ἀντιόωσιν.
εἰ δέ τις ἀθανάτων γε κατ’ οὐρανοῦ εἰλήλουθας,
οὐκ ἂν ἔγωγε θεοῖσιν ἐπουρανίοισι μαχοίμην.

Glaukos, 6.145-151

“Oh, you great-hearted son of Tydeus, why are you asking about pedigree?
The generations of men are just like leaves on a tree:
The wind blows some to the ground and then the forest
Grows lush with others when spring comes again.
In this way, the race of men grows and then dies in turn.
But if you are willing, learn about these things so you may know
My lineage well—many are the men who know me.”

Τυδεΐδη μεγάθυμε τί ἢ γενεὴν ἐρεείνεις;
οἵη περ φύλλων γενεὴ τοίη δὲ καὶ ἀνδρῶν.
φύλλα τὰ μέν τ’ ἄνεμος χαμάδις χέει, ἄλλα δέ θ’ ὕλη
τηλεθόωσα φύει, ἔαρος δ’ ἐπιγίγνεται ὥρη·
ὣς ἀνδρῶν γενεὴ ἣ μὲν φύει ἣ δ’ ἀπολήγει.
εἰ δ’ ἐθέλεις καὶ ταῦτα δαήμεναι ὄφρ’ ἐὺ εἰδῇς
ἡμετέρην γενεήν, πολλοὶ δέ μιν ἄνδρες ἴσασιν

This scene certainly leaves an impression on people. One of my best friends spent years scheming to re-stage this scene on a paintball field. After may abortive events, some of us laid down covering fire so he and another could meet an exchange their equipment midfield. It was hilarious. And unsafe. But hilarious.

The exchange between these two heroes is marked by three things (among others!): (1) the establishment of xenia–the reciprocal exchange of hospitality–as an inheritable principle; (2) Glaukos’ telling of the story of Bellerophon (which establishes the aforementioned xenia status); and (3) the exchange of armor to signal their continuing friendship.

The exchange is marked with a strong note of judgment by the Homeric narrator.

Homer, Iliad 6.230-236

“Let’s exchange armor with one another so that even these people
May know that we claim to be guest-friends from our fathers’ lines.”

So they spoke and leapt down from their horses,
Took one another’s hands and made their pledge.
Then Kronos’s son Zeus stole away Glaukos’ wits,
For he traded to Diomedes golden arms in exchange for bronze,
weapons worth one hundred oxen traded for those worth nine.”

τεύχεα δ’ ἀλλήλοις ἐπαμείψομεν, ὄφρα καὶ οἷδε
γνῶσιν ὅτι ξεῖνοι πατρώϊοι εὐχόμεθ’ εἶναι.
῝Ως ἄρα φωνήσαντε καθ’ ἵππων ἀΐξαντε
χεῖράς τ’ ἀλλήλων λαβέτην καὶ πιστώσαντο·
ἔνθ’ αὖτε Γλαύκῳ Κρονίδης φρένας ἐξέλετο Ζεύς,
ὃς πρὸς Τυδεΐδην Διομήδεα τεύχε’ ἄμειβε
χρύσεα χαλκείων, ἑκατόμβοι’ ἐννεαβοίων.

Ancient commentators were intrigued by this judgment.

Schol. ad. Il. 6.234b ex.

“Kronos’ son Zeus took Glaukos’ wits away”. Because he was adorning him among his allies with more conspicuous weapons. Or, because they were made by Hephaistos. Or, as Pios claims, so that [the poet?] might amplify the Greek since they do not make an equal exchange—a thing which would be sweet to the audience.

Or, perhaps he credits him more, that he was adorned with conspicuous arms among his own and his allies. For, wherever these arms are, it is a likely place for an enemy attack.”

ex. ἔνθ’ αὖτε Γλαύκῳ <Κρονίδης> φρένας ἐξέλετο: ὅτι κατὰ τῶν συμμάχων ἐκόσμει λαμπροτέροις αὐτὸν ὅπλοις. ἢ ὡς ῾Ηφαιστότευκτα. ἢ, ὡς Πῖος (fr. 2 H.), ἵνα κἀν τούτῳ αὐξήσῃ τὸν ῞Ελληνα μὴ ἐξ ἴσου ἀπηλ<λ>αγμένον, ὅπερ ἡδὺ τοῖς ἀκούουσιν. 
ἢ μᾶλλον αἰτιᾶται αὐτόν, ὅτι λαμπροῖς ὅπλοις ἐκοσμεῖτο κατὰ ἑαυτοῦ καὶ τῶν συμμάχων· ὅπου γὰρ ταῦτα, εὔκαιρος ἡ τῶν πολεμίων ὁρμή. b(BE3E4)

I always thought that Glaukos got a raw deal from interpreters here. Prior to the stories Diomedes and Glaukos tell each other, Diomedes was just murdering everyone in his path. Glaukos—who already knew who Diomedes was before he addressed him—tells a great tale, gives Diomedes his golden weapons, and actually lives to the end of the poem. I think this is far from a witless move. And, if the armor is especially conspicuous, maybe the plan-within-a-plan is to put a golden target on Diomedes’ back.

But let’s back up a bit to make a few points:

  1. Diomedes does not know who Glaukos is; Glaukos definitely knows who Diomedes is.

  2. Everyone among the Trojans knows that Diomedes has been tearing it up in the field and that few can meet him.

  3. Diomedes prefaces his question of Glaukos’ identity by telling him a story of how Lykourgos messed with the gods and regretted it, providing a bit of a proverbial lesson by concluding that no one lasts long “once they have become hateful to the gods” (ἦν, ἐπεὶ ἀθανάτοισιν ἀπήχθετο πᾶσι θεοῖσιν, 6.140).

  4. Then, Glaukos tells an elaborate tale about his ancestry that links up with Diomedes’ grandfather, concluding that Bellerophon “became hateful to the gods” (using the same language as Diomedes at line 200)

  5. This narrative confirms Diomedes’ sentiment that anyone can fall out of favor, while also bulking up Glaukos’ heroic profile and providing him an out clause (xenia)

  6. Just as everyone knows who Diomedes is, they also seem to know his famous father as one of the failed Seven against Thebes

  7. So, when Diomedes says that he doesn’t remember his father (222), we might be able to argue that Glaukos is counting on this: Diomedes knows some object left behind in his family’s home, but cannot confirm or deny the story Bellerophon says.

In my work on the Odyssey (The Many Minded Man: the Odyssey, Psychology and The Therapy of Epic) I argue, following authors like Lisa Zunshine and Palmer, that good storytellers exhibit mind-reading, by which they mean the ability to “ascribe states of minds to others and [themselves]”. While this is seen by modern authors as a sign of sophistication in novels, I think it is something we can see in the case of effective liars and persuaders like Odysseus. I summarize (2020, 150):

For Lisa Zunshine, the ability to ascribe to someone else “a certain mental state on the basis of her observable action” (2006:6)—what she calls “mind-reading”—is both an essential skill for “construct[ing] and navigat[ing] our social environment” and a foundational quality for the creation of fiction and literature.2 Such an ability is in part what makes Odysseus a great story-teller and a narrative agent; but it also allows him to subjugate and use others.

In short, I think there is a reading of Glaukos’ use of Bellerophon’s narrative that shows it works similarly to Odysseus’ lies: he weaponizes a story to achieve a complex outcome. In Glaukos’ case, he establishes a hereditary relationship with Diomedes that allows him to avoid fighting the most dangerous person on the battlefield.

Some things to read on book 6

n.b this is not an exhaustive bibliography. If you’d like anything else included, please let me know.

Alden, M. J. “Genealogy as Paradigm: The Example of Bellerophon.” Hermes, vol. 124, no. 3, 1996, pp. 257–63. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/4477146

Donlan, Walter. “The Unequal Exchange between Glaucus and Diomedes in Light of the Homeric Gift-Economy.” Phoenix, vol. 43, no. 1, 1989, pp. 1–15. JSTOR, https://doi.org/10.2307/1088537. Accessed 2 Oct. 2023.

Fineberg, Stephen. “Blind Rage and Eccentric Vision in Iliad 6.” Transactions of the American Philological Association (1974-), vol. 129, 1999, pp. 13–41. JSTOR, https://doi.org/10.2307/284423.

Gaisser, Julia Haig. “Adaptation of Traditional Material in the Glaucus-Diomedes Episode.” Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association, vol. 100, 1969, pp. 165–76. JSTOR, https://doi.org/10.2307/2935907.

Harries, Byron. “‘Strange Meeting’: Diomedes and Glaucus in ‘Iliad’ 6.Greece & Rome, vol. 40, no. 2, 1993, pp. 133–46. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/643154. 

Lowry, Eddie R.. “Glaucus, the leaves, and the heroic boast of Iliad 6.146-211.” The ages of Homer: a tribute to Emily Townsend Vermeule. Eds. Carter, Jane P. and Morris, Sarah P.. Austin (Tex.): University of Texas Pr., 1995. 193-203.

Palmer, Alan. 2010. Social Minds in the Novel. Columbus.

Scodel, Ruth. “The Wits of Glaucus.” Transactions of the American Philological Association (1974-), vol. 122, 1992, pp. 73–84. JSTOR, https://doi.org/10.2307/284365.

Tracy, Catherine. “The Host’s Dilemma: Game Theory and Homeric Hospitality.” Illinois Classical Studies, no. 39 (2014): 1–16. https://doi.org/10.5406/illiclasstud.39.0001.

Traill, David A. “Gold Armor for Bronze and Homer’s Use of Compensatory TIMH.” Classical Philology, vol. 84, no. 4, 1989, pp. 301–05. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/4620748

Walcot, Peter. “Χρύσεα χαλκείων. A further comment.” Classical Review, vol. XIX, 1969, pp. 12-13. Doi: 10.1017/S0009840X00328311

Zunshine, Lisa. 2006. Why We Read Fiction: Theory of Mind and the Novel. Columbus.

War Crimes: Iliad 6, Infanticide, and the Mykonos Vase

CW: Infanticide, Sexual Violence. Reference to current events.

Iliad 6 picks up at the end of book 5, where Diomedes enjoyed his aristeia. The audience witnesses a series of Achaean kills, before focusing on an exchange between Menelaos and Agamemnon. Menelaos has captured the Trojan Adrastus alive and was about to send him to the ships to be ransomed later. Agamemnon intervenes:

Homer, Iliad 6.53-62

“And then [Menelaos] was intending to give Adrastus
To an attendant to take back to the Achaeans’ swift ships
But Agamemnon came rushing in front of him and spoke commandingly
“Oh my fool Menelaos, why do you care so much about people?
Did your house suffer the best treatment by the Trojans?
Let none of them flee dread death at our hands,
Not even  a mother who carries in her womb
a child that will be a boy, let not one flee, but instead
Let everyone at Troy perish, unwept and unseen.”

The hero spoke like this and changed his brother’s mind,

καὶ δή μιν τάχ᾽ ἔμελλε θοὰς ἐπὶ νῆας Ἀχαιῶν
δώσειν ᾧ θεράποντι καταξέμεν: ἀλλ᾽ Ἀγαμέμνων
ἀντίος ἦλθε θέων, καὶ ὁμοκλήσας ἔπος ηὔδα:
‘ὦ πέπον ὦ Μενέλαε, τί ἢ δὲ σὺ κήδεαι οὕτως
ἀνδρῶν; ἦ σοὶ ἄριστα πεποίηται κατὰ οἶκον
πρὸς Τρώων; τῶν μή τις ὑπεκφύγοι αἰπὺν ὄλεθρον
χεῖράς θ᾽ ἡμετέρας, μηδ᾽ ὅν τινα γαστέρι μήτηρ
κοῦρον ἐόντα φέροι, μηδ᾽ ὃς φύγοι, ἀλλ᾽ ἅμα πάντες
Ἰλίου ἐξαπολοίατ᾽ ἀκήδεστοι καὶ ἄφαντοι.

ὣς εἰπὼν ἔτρεψεν ἀδελφειοῦ φρένας ἥρως

I have always struggled with how to understand the rally for widespread infanticide in this scene. On one level, we can see it as typical of Agamemnon: he refused the convention of supplication and ransom in book 1 and refuses to honor a similar supplication by twins in book 11 (122-147). Or, we could imagine that the extremity of the war and Achilles’ rage has upended convention. According to the latter argument, these kinds of violence may be seen as exceptional consequences of enmity and anger. In support of this, consider how Achilles also refuses to honor a suppliant in book 21 (Lykaon) and proceeds to capture 12 Trojan youths alive in order to sacrifice them at Patroklos’ pyre. One of the main thematic arcs of the Iliad is the reaffirmation of social conventions of exchange (ransom/xenia) and the rites of the dead, resolved powerfully in book 24.

But there’s something else going on throughout the Iliad too: an exploration of the limits of violence. Agamemnon does not just advocate for the killing of an armed combatant, he announces a strategy that we might call genocidal today. Indeed, if we look at it carefully, the Iliad is rather clear about what the Trojans can expect at the end of the war. Earlier, Nestor makes it clear that sexual assault is an incentive for his soldiers and a punishment for the Trojan women:

Homer, Iliad 2.354–356

“So let no one be compelled to return home,
Before each one has taken a Trojan wife to bed
As payback for the struggles and moans of Helen”

τὼ μή τις πρὶν ἐπειγέσθω οἶκον δὲ νέεσθαι
πρίν τινα πὰρ Τρώων ἀλόχῳ κατακοιμηθῆναι,
τίσασθαι δ’ ῾Ελένης ὁρμήματά τε στοναχάς τε.

Much later in the epic, Priam lets Hektor know what he expects to see when the city falls:

Homer, Iliad 22.59-65

“Pity your unlucky father as he still ponders his
Misfortune., a man father Zeus ruins with harsh fate
Just on the threshold of old age, watching so many evils:
Sons murdered and daughters dragged off,
Bedrooms plundered, and infant children
Hurled to the ground in the awful violence,
While their mothers are hauled away in the Achaeans’ ruinous hands.”

πρὸς δ’ ἐμὲ τὸν δύστηνον ἔτι φρονέοντ’ ἐλέησον
δύσμορον, ὅν ῥα πατὴρ Κρονίδης ἐπὶ γήραος οὐδῷ
αἴσῃ ἐν ἀργαλέῃ φθίσει κακὰ πόλλ’ ἐπιδόντα
υἷάς τ’ ὀλλυμένους ἑλκηθείσας τε θύγατρας, 
καὶ θαλάμους κεραϊζομένους, καὶ νήπια τέκνα
βαλλόμενα προτὶ γαίῃ ἐν αἰνῇ δηϊοτῆτι,
ἑλκομένας τε νυοὺς ὀλοῇς ὑπὸ χερσὶν ᾿Αχαιῶν. 

Agamemnon’s words in book 6 are especially powerful because the invocation of killing infants sets the audience up, in a way, for seeing Astyanax at the end of the book. Hektor’s young son, who had to be conceived and born during the siege and who has likely never left the confinements of his city, is famously killed by either Neoptolemus or Odysseus, dashed to the ground or hurled from the city walls.

A scholiast sees Priam’s words as directly evoking the scenes of the end of Troy:

Schol bT ad Il. 22.61-5a ex.

“And even though he does not describe the sack of Troy, he still makes its suffering clear by summarizing what an entire generation experiences in war.

The outrage against women’s bodies is greater. The poet sublimely offers these things to see only briefly, using the words together and simply. For he doesn’t call the bedrooms “high roofed” or “well-made” or call the daughters “fine-haired” or “nice-ankled”. Instead he [communicates their] misfortune by refraining from the epithets.”

καὶ μὴ γράψας δὲ τὴν ᾿Ιλίου πόρθησιν ὅμως ἐδήλωσεν αὐτῆς τὰ παθήματα, πᾶσανἡλικίαν τὴν ἐν πολέμῳ τι πάσχουσαν παραλαβών·  ταῖς δὲ γυναιξὶν ἡ εἰς τὸ σῶμα ὕβρις μείζων. δαιμονίως δὲ ταῦτα ὑπ’ὄψιν ἤγαγεν ἐν βραχεῖ, χρησάμενος ἅμα καὶ ἀπεριέργως ταῖς λέξεσιν·οὐ γὰρ ὑψορόφους ἢ δαιδαλέους θαλάμους λέγει (cf. 63) οὐδὲ θύγατραςκαλλικόμους ἢ καλλισφύρους ἀλλ’ ἀπήλλακται τῶν ἐπιθέτων αὐτῷ τὰ δυστυχοῦντα τῶν σωμάτων. 

The knowledge of the end of the city and Astyanax’s fate shapes our reception of book 6 and makes the pathos of Hektor’s prayer for his future even harder to handle. How should feel about Agamemnon is contained in the structure of Iliad 6:. his desire to kill all the babies is individualized in one we can understand, similar to the catalogs of obituaries but different: Astyanax is a metonym for all the babies who die at the fall of Troy. Our pity for him should help us to frame and reject Agamemnon’s bloodlust.  But my concern here is less the narrative structures than on the reflection on the realities of violence. The Iliad is often hard to read when it comes to its violence: the death scenes in particular are vivid and at times even amusingly over-the-top, to my taste more akin to the excess of a Quentin Tarantino movie than the brutal realism of the opening sequence of Saving Private Ryan.

But my thinking about the relationship between the way we talk about Homeric heroes without fully acknowledge the damage they do has changed after spending the last two decades watching bloody conflicts unfold on television and social media.

The End of Troy on the Mykonos Vase

As I was reading through book 6, I went to do an image search for the death of Astyanax.  In the worst version of this motif, the infant child is used to beat his grandfather Priam to death.

BM 1842,0314.3 c. 550BC-540BC

I then was wondering about the iconography of this scene and googled infanticide and found this on Wikimedia commons:

I was somewhat shocked that I had never seen this image from a Greek vase before. I then realized that it was part of a series of panels that tell the story of this child, a warrior, and his mother. It may be different scenes of an attack, or a sequence telling a story.

Photograph of a figured panel from a clay vase showing a warrior swinging an infant in a sequence

What seems to happen in this sequence is that  the small child tries to intervene when the soldier approaches his mother:

Then the soldier sees the child and grabs him.

And runs him through with his sword.

Due in part to the news of the past few years and being a parent, I found this series really upsetting. But what upset me more was when I looked at the whole vase. I have shown pictures of the top portion of this vessel dozens of times in my career because it is the oldest known image of the Trojan horse. I always used to make jokes about the soldiers looking out the windows. How could the Trojans be so dumb as to let them in?!

The terrible violence on the lower part of the vase seems a consequence of the actions of the warriors inside the horse. But the relationship between how we treat that amusing image and the violence below is a close analogy for what we do with the Iliad by focusing on its heroic veneer without really dwelling enough on the horrors of the world it depicts.

Michael Anderson (1997, 183-191) discusses the pithos in detail as an example of the plot of the lost poem the Iliou Persis. According to Anderson (see also Ervin 1963), the panels follow the action of a single warrior and woman with a male child in different poses, indicating a narrative. He summarizes “This conglomeration of panels exposes an operation of mass enslavement and extermination.” He compares the panels to Priam imagining the future death of his sons and enslavement of daughters in book 22 (62-65). He adds “But the massacre on the pithos need not be limited to a single family, and the multiplication of scenes may be read as an attempt to represent all the women and children of the city” (186) and adds “… the warriors on the pithos are determined to eradicate the entire race of Trojans, and all the male children must die, even the sons still in the womb, as Agamemnon coldly threatens in Iliad 6” (187).

But I fear that the relegation of these images to a particular story tradition does not help us understanding what audiences did with them. As Kathy Gaca shows in her article “The Andrapodizing of War Captives in Greek Historical Memory,” the act of killing those who know how to fight and enslaving/taking those who do not (women and children) was a practice observed in many different ways in Ancient Greece. Agamemnon’s words and the Mykonos vase must surely reflect these practices. I don’t think they are celebrating them, but the tone is far too unclear.

A coda

The Iliad is in part the story of ‘civilizing’ conventions of wars dismissed. What we learn from the beginning is that political institutions are not strong enough to enforce the maintenance of normative behaviors. The personal decisions of individuals–Paris before the war, Agamemnon at the beginning of the Iliad–run roughshod across principles of ransom in exchange for life that the assembled Greeks cheer for in book 1.

The story of excessive violence in the Iliad is that of the rejection of conventions meant to make war in some way predictable and ‘acceptable’ to the combatants. The planned sexual violence of the Achaeans, the rejection of ransom-exchange, and the promotion of infanticide all come within the frame of the breakdown of political control over individual behavior. ‘Rage’ is the break from limitations enforced by social conventions; it unleashes the true hell of war and unveils the brutal, dehumanizing violence pulsating beneath the service of ‘civilization’.

Even the epic’s conclusion is compromised: the cessation of Achilles’ rage only comes through monstrous behavior (corpse-disfigurement and human sacrifice) and occurs at the personal level between a bereft father and a surrogate son whose potential for violence has ebbed through exhaustion and divine intervention. It thematically seals the epic’s arc: book 1 saw the breakdown in social convention thanks to the whims of an angry king; book 24 sees the conventions briefly reinforced, thanks to the needs of two kings in despair. Yet their attitude is not one of rejection violence or rehabilitation, but resignation to the continuing war that will take both of their lives.

For a marginally more explicit take on current events, see here.

Some things to read

n.b this is not an exhaustive bibliography. If you’d like anything else included, please let me know.

Anderson, Michael J. 1997 The Fall of troy in Early Greek Poetry and Art Oxford

Ebbinghaus, Susanne. “Protector of the City, or the Art of Storage in Early Greece.” The Journal of Hellenic Studies 125 (2005): 51–72. http://www.jstor.org/stable/30033345.

M. Ervin, “A relief pithos from Mykonos”, Archaiologikon Deltion 18 (1963), pp. 37-75.

Gaca, Kathy L. “Reinterpreting the Homeric Simile of ‘Iliad’ 16.7-11: The Girl and Her Mother in Ancient Greek Warfare.” The American Journal of Philology 129, no. 2 (2008): 145–71. http://www.jstor.org/stable/27566700.

GACA, KATHY L. “The Andrapodizing of War Captives in Greek Historical Memory.” Transactions of the American Philological Association (1974-) 140, no. 1 (2010): 117–61. http://www.jstor.org/stable/40652052.

Gaca, Kathy L. “MARTIAL RAPE, PULSATING FEAR, AND THE SEXUAL MALTREATMENT OF GIRLS (Παῖδες), VIRGINS (Παρθένοι), AND WOMEN (Γνναῖκες) IN ANTIQUITY.” The American Journal of Philology 135, no. 3 (2014): 303–57. http://www.jstor.org/stable/24560257.

Sparkes, B. A. “The Trojan Horse in Classical Art.” Greece & Rome 18, no. 1 (1971): 54–70. http://www.jstor.org/stable/642388.

Structure and Stories: Reading Iliad 6

Book 6 of the Iliad may be one of the most carefully structured, most dynamic books of the epic. (And likely one of the most read books as well.) It is also crucial for fleshing out the world within which the Iliadic conflicts unfolds: it provides a rare view into the city of Troy, lets us hear the voices of the women in the city, and takes “man-slaughtering” Hektor out of combat and close to his home. There are three major scenes to consider: (1) the scenes of violence prior to Hektor’s return to the city; (2) the famous exchange between Glaukos and Diomedes that runs while Hektor is going to Troy; (3) the exchanges between Hektor and the people in the city, including Hekuba, Paris, Helen, and Andromache. 

Interlocking Themes and Structures in Iliad 6

One of the things that makes this sequence really effective is how moments in each scene anticipate the contents of what follows. For instance, the catalogue of deaths to start the book provide “obituaries” of Trojan warriors that contain some curious detail and Agamemnon’s promise to kill even male Trojans in the womb echoes poignantly when we see (and hear about) Hektor’s son Astyanax at the end of the book. Consider as well, the narrative Diomedes provides at 6.130-140. He explains that it is dangerous to rival gods, but uses a strange narrative of how Lykourgos opposed an infant Dionysus and drove the baby god to the sea. Zeus punishes Lykourgos with blindness.

In this tale, Dionysus is rescued by Thetis, and summarizes that no one lasts long, “once they have become hateful to the gods” (ἦν, ἐπεὶ ἀθανάτοισιν ἀπήχθετο πᾶσι θεοῖσιν, 6.140). This theme is echoed later when Glaukos summarizes the later days of Bellerophon, wandering the Aleian plain after he also “became hateful to the gods” (6.200). And details from this scene may also anticipate what follows: Christos Tsagalis has argued that the invocation of the Maenads and Dionysus in Diomedes’ speech foreshadows Andromache being compared to a mad-woman in Troy and the odd inclusion of an infant Dionysus, saved here and only here by Thetis, may also prime audiences to think about infants on the coast of Asia Minor who survive and those who don’t.

These thematic interconnections are joined by a surprising structure in book 6.  Hektor’s brother, Helenos, instructs him to go tell the Trojan women to sacrifice to Athena. Hektor leaves to do so at 6.116 but he does not arrive there until 6.237. As an audience, we are supposed to imagine that the intervening conversation between Glaukos and Diomedes takes place while Hektor travels through Troy. This is interesting in part because it is fairly unique in Homer, although it is not entirely strange. Often actions are delayed to create suspense, as when Patroklos waits several books to return to tell Achilles who is wounded (from book 11 until 16). But at this scale, this scene has interesting consequences for thinking about Homeric narrative structure.

There is an phenomenon described by “Zielinski’s Law” that suggests that Homeric poetry can only move forward and does not have flashbacks or show simultaneous action. The structure of this book certainly complicates this observation. At one level, it is clear that in real time performance, a poet cannot literally depict two scenes at the same time (although two poets could!). But, at another, the “law” (which really isn’t binding) implies a misunderstanding of the limits of epic art. Homeric poetry tends not to show simultaneous action, but it is certainly capable of doing so. Book 6 has multiple instances of simultaneous action: pay close attention as well to Paris’ departure from his abode and when Hektor catches up with him. 

Homeric ‘Obituaries’

As you can observe from the catalogue of deaths that tends to accompany the aristeia of individual heroes, there’s a connection between the glory attached to a hero and ‘fame’ or at least naming of his victim. Indeed, as Hektor puts it in book 7, there is some connection between the fame of the victor and the vanquished:

Homer, Iliad 7.89-91

“…They will heap up a mound [sêma] on the broad Hellespont
And someone of the men who are born in the future may say
As he says over the wine-faced sea in his many-benched ship:
This is the marker [sêma] of a man who died long ago,
A man whom shining Hektor killed when he was at his best”
So someone someday will say. And my glory will never perish”

σῆμά τέ οἱ χεύωσιν ἐπὶ πλατεῖ ῾Ελλησπόντῳ.
καί ποτέ τις εἴπῃσι καὶ ὀψιγόνων ἀνθρώπων
νηῒ πολυκλήϊδι πλέων ἐπὶ οἴνοπα πόντον·
ἀνδρὸς μὲν τόδε σῆμα πάλαι κατατεθνηῶτος,
ὅν ποτ’ ἀριστεύοντα κατέκτανε φαίδιμος ῞Εκτωρ.
ὥς ποτέ τις ἐρέει· τὸ δ’ ἐμὸν κλέος οὔ ποτ’ ὀλεῖται.

Peter Gainsford has done an analysis of all of the named killings in the Iliad and it provides two really important observations: first, far more Trojan dead are named than Achaean and, second, despite that imbalance, Hektor kills the most named people in the Iliad, followed closely by Patroklos and Achilles. The ‘obituaries’ of these heroes, how they die and who they are, can be said to increase the glory or at least magnify the accomplishments of the chief warriors.

But I think there’s more to it than that. Book 6 starts with a series of Trojan Deaths at the hands of the Achaeans. The stories increase in length and provide interesting detail

Homer, Iliad 6.20-28

“Euryalos killed Dresos and Opheltios.

Then he went after Aisēpos and Pēdasos, whom once

The water nymph Abarbareē bore to blameless Boukolion.

Boukolion was a son of noble Laomedon,

The oldest by birth, but his mother gave birth to him in secret.

He had sex with the nymph while shepherding the sheep.

She became pregnant and gave birth to twin boys.

Euryalos, the son of Mekistes, undid their lives and shining limbs

And then stripped the weapons from their shoulders.”

 In their commentary on book 6, Barbara Graziosi and Johannes Haubold write on the Boukolion passage:

“The poet provides recondite information on Boukolion’s family and draws attention to this fact: Boukolion and his sons are born in obscure circumstances and marginal settings…Commentators debate whether the genealogy should be considered ‘conscious fiction’ or whether it reflects a local tradition…. The text, however, does not encourage us to view these options as alternatives: the poet tells us about a family that would otherwise remain obscure, and its history has a strong local flavour, rather than enjoying Panhellenic fame. ”

As they put it, just as with the catalogue of ships and other seeming digressions, the death scenes provide an opportunity for acknowledging local traditions by integrating their stories into the Homeric narrative. Given some of the details of this passage, however, such as the names “Cowherd” (Boukolion) and “Mud-woman” or “Not-foreigner” (Abarbareē), this passage could be seen as “improvised” for the context.

I think the somewhat legendary story here–a herdsman having a tryst with a divine woman–both echoes other Trojan stories (like the affair of Aphrodite and Anchises) while also preparing us for the actions of book 6 that, in sequence, show us (1) Agamemnon threatening to kill even infants in the womb; (2) Diomedes and Glaukos finding common ground across the war because of their genealogical narratives; and (3) the women and families of Troy, centered around a warriors brief return home. There’s a kind of anticipation in the themes of the initial deaths in this book, differing in an important way from the theomachy of book 5.

Some guiding questions for Book 6

What is the effect of the exchange between Diomedes and Glaukos on book 6 and on the whole?

How do Hektor’s conversations with Helen, Hecuba, and Andromache serve to characterize him and what impact do they have on the larger narrative?

What is Andromache’s advice for Hektor and why doesn’t he take it?

Red figure vase: Side A: Scene of fighting from the Trojan War; Achilles dismounts from his chariot to kill the fallen Eurymachus. Side B: Scenes of fighting from the Trojan War, with Glaucus (frontal, centre) and Menestheus. Subsidiary decoration: rays from the base and a lotus/palmette band above the panel. Much added red and white for details. There are holes at the base of the handles and a channel/drain hole in the base, suggesting the vessel was used for cooling wine.
From National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne: ca. 540 BCE from Chalkis, Greece. Lidded belly amphora, black-glazed with figure panels.

On Zielinski’s Law and Book 6 in general

n.b this is not an exhaustive bibliography. If you’d like anything else included, please let me know. I will have a separate list for posts on Agamemnon’s violence and the Diomedes/Glaukos episode

Arthur, M. B.. “The divided world of Iliad VI.” Reflections of women in antiquity. Ed. Foley, Helene Peet. New York: Gordon & Breach Science Publ., 1981. 19-44.

Bowie, Angus. “Narrative and emotion in the « Iliad »: Andromache and Helen.” Emotions and narrative in ancient literature and beyond: studies in honour of Irene de Jong. Eds. De Bakker, Mathieu, Van den Berg, Baukje and Klooster, Jacqueline. Mnemosyne. Supplements; 451. Leiden ; Boston (Mass.): Brill, 2022. 48-61. Doi: 10.1163/9789004506053_004

Carbon, Jan. Mathieu. “Zielinski’s Law and Its Validity.” Diss. 2003.

Frazer, Richard McIlwaine. “Hesiod’s Titanomachy as an illustration of Zielinski’s law.” Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies, vol. XXII, 1981, pp. 5-9.

Barbara Graziosi, Johannes Haubold, Homer. Iliad, Book VI. Cambridge Greek and Latin classics. Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2010.

Griffin, Jasper. “Homeric Pathos and Objectivity.” The Classical Quarterly 26, no. 2 (1976): 161–87. http://www.jstor.org/stable/638263.

Nünlist, René. “Der Homerische Erzähler Und Das Sogenannte Sukzessionsgesetz.” Museum Helveticum 55, no. 1 (1998): 2–8. http://www.jstor.org/stable/24821098.

Pratt, Louise Harrison. “The parental ethos of the « Iliad ».” Constructions of childhood in ancient Greece and Italy. Eds. Cohen, Ada and Rutter, Jeremy B.. Hesperia. Supplement; 41. Princeton (N. J.): American School of Classical Studies at Athens, 2007. 25-40.

Purves, Alex C. “HOMER AND THE ART OF OVERTAKING.” The American Journal of Philology 132, no. 4 (2011): 523–51. http://www.jstor.org/stable/41415775.

Scodel, Ruth. “Zielinski’s Law Reconsidered.” Transactions of the American Philological Association (1974-) 138, no. 1 (2008): 107–25. http://www.jstor.org/stable/40212076.

Slater, W. J. “Lyric Narrative: Structure and Principle.” Classical Antiquity 2, no. 1 (1983): 117–32. https://doi.org/10.2307/25010788.

Tsagalis, Christos. 2008. The Oral Palimpsest: Exploring Intertextuality in the Homeric Epics. Hellenic Studies Series 29. Washington, DC: Center for Hellenic Studies.

Vergados, Athanassios. “Rethinking Zieliński’s law and its application on Hesiod’s « Theogony ».” Paideia, vol. 74, no. 2, 2019, pp. 1239-1257.

 

Does Homer Make Sh*t up?

Aphrodite’s Mom in Iliad 5

One of the most well-known passages of Iliad 5 is when Athena spurs Diomedes to wound Aphrodite. The goddess of sex flees the battlefield and goes to be comforted by her mother.

Hom. Iliad 5.370-4

Then divine Aphrodite fell to the knees of Diône
Her own mother. She took her own daughter into her arms.
She touched her with her hand, named her, and spoke:
“Dear child, who of the Olympians has done these kinds of things to you,
Pointlessly, as if you were doing something wicked in the open?”

ἣ δ’ ἐν γούνασι πῖπτε Διώνης δῖ’ ᾿Αφροδίτη
μητρὸς ἑῆς· ἣ δ’ ἀγκὰς ἐλάζετο θυγατέρα ἥν,
χειρί τέ μιν κατέρεξεν ἔπος τ’ ἔφατ’ ἐκ τ’ ὀνόμαζε·
τίς νύ σε τοιάδ’ ἔρεξε φίλον τέκος Οὐρανιώνων
μαψιδίως, ὡς εἴ τι κακὸν ῥέζουσαν ἐνωπῇ;

Once Aphrodite tells her the story, her mother then goes on to provide her a catalogue of gods who had to endure wounding by mortals. While the passage is amusing, it produces a little dissonance based largely on the significant detail of Aphrodite having a mother.

Schol. D ad. Hom. Il. 5.374

“Note that according to Hesiod, Aphrodite is the product of Ouranos’ genitals and the sea, but according to Homer, she is from Diône and Zeus.

᾿Ιστέον δὲ, ὅτι, κατὰ μὲν ῾Ησίοδον, ἡ
᾿Αφροδίτη γίγνεται ἐκ τοῦ Οὐρανοῦ τῶν
αἰδοίων, καὶ τῆς θαλάσσης· κατὰ δὲ
῞Ομηρον, ἐκ Διώνης καὶ Διός.

File:Terracotta figurine of Aphrodite in a shell Antikensammlung Berlin.jpg
Terracotta figurine of Aphrodite, Antikensammlung Berlin, c. 2nd Century BCE

An instructive detail here is that the scholion here doesn’t take a stance about whether either or not Homer or Hesiod are “correct” or one is prior to another, and I think this is pretty important. From a narrative perspective each genealogy makes sense for the story in question: Aphrodite is a powerful elemental force in Hesiod’s Theogony and there is both poetic and political logic behind her birth from Ouranos’ testicles. In the Homeric tradition, this is more complicated. Zeus needs to humiliate Aphrodite in the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite, where he ‘gets back’ at her for infecting the gods with lust by inducing her to have sex with the mortal Anchises. In the Iliad, Aphrodite is rendered subordinate to Zeus as one of his children. Aphrodite is often mentioned as a daughter of Zeus (as G. S. Kirk notes in his Cambridge commentary on the Iliad), but this is the only place we hear about her mother. To make it a little more bewildering, Diône seems top merely be a feminine form of Zeus (cf. the genitive Dios).

Frederick Combellack writes in his 1976 article “Homer the Innovator” that “any person who spends very much time in the study of the Homeric poems will almost certainly find himself involved, perhaps with regret, in the study of Homeric scholarship” (44). He drops this “diss track” by way of introducing an argument against the very idea that Homeric poetry could “innovate” or “invent” new detail, an assertion supported by many scholars in the twentieth century, dismissed by Combellack as being possible, but implausible based on our evidence.

File:Ludovisi throne Altemps Inv8570.jpg
So-called “Ludovisi Throne”: main panel, Aphrodite attended by two handmaidens as she rises ouf the surf. Thasos marble, Greek artwork, ca. 460 BC (authenticity disputed).caption…

While I don’t necessarily share Combellack’s aversion to reading Homeric scholarship, despite a weighty tradition mocking its pedantry going all the way back to Seneca (and likely earlier, given the evidence of Palladas the Alexandrian poet), I do think the asperity of his comments point to an important problem in thinking about Homeric poetry: making any sense of the relationship between our ‘Homer’ and what may have come before. 

The relationship between the Iliad and the Odyssey and antecedent ‘traditions’ is not just about mythological narratives: it pervades our view of Homeric language (the formula), devices (e.g. similes), as well as content. Indeed, a great deal of Homeric scholarship of the 20th century was engaged with this question in one way or another. (Sidenote, this is a topic that will always inspire debate: The first 45 minutes of my dissertation defense in 2007 was occupied by my readers debating among themselves the meaning of the word ‘tradition’ in relation to the Iliad.)

I have discussed neoanalytical approaches before, and I don’t really want to recap that. Here I am interested in two problems presented by the nature of Homeric poetry itself: First, Homeric poetry is generically meant to seem old and authoritative, without having to actually be so. Second, Greek poetry and myth in general have a very different approach to veracity or fidelity than a culture immersed in fixed textual traditions like ours might expect.

For the first problem, I always find it useful to flip our belief about Homeric poetry on its head: what if, instead of assuming that Homeric poetry stands as the authoritative origins of Trojan war narratives (and other myths) it stands at the end of a certain kind of flexible tradition, imposing an authoritative order only over time thanks to a privileged cultural position? I find starting from this approach useful especially with other archaic and classical age poets because we can’t actually know what ‘Homer’ they were exposed to and it is strange to think that epic performance was not shaped by other genres as well.

For the second challenge, I often think back to what Hesiod announces before the cosmogonic narrative of the Theogony even begins. The Muses approach ‘Hesiod’ while he is tending his flocks:

Theogony 26-28

“Rustic shepherds, wretched reproaches, nothing but bellies,
We know how to say many lies similar to the truth
And we know how to speak the truth when we want to.”

“ποιμένες ἄγραυλοι, κάκ’ ἐλέγχεα, γαστέρες οἶον,
ἴδμεν ψεύδεα πολλὰ λέγειν ἐτύμοισιν ὁμοῖα,
ἴδμεν δ’ εὖτ’ ἐθέλωμεν ἀληθέα γηρύσασθαι.”

When I teach myth I emphasize that while this passage can be taken as a disclaimer (i.e., you may know different stories than mine!) for communities of divergent, even conflicting narrative traditions, I think it is also a conditioning framework for setting aside concerns about veracity. Hesiod the narrator here attributes poetic authority to the Muses along with the ability to discern what is true from what is false. The result is that mortals simply cannot know and, therefore, probably shouldn’t worry about it.

But I have also taken recourse to ideas from scholars of memory to rethink moments like this. In studying memory systems, Martin Conway suggests that there are two forces in human memory: correspondence, which is about equivalence between details of ‘reality’ (or experience) and details of a story and coherence, which means that details make sense together in a narrative. When it comes to the way these systems operate in the human mind, not only does he argue that the memory systems have different neuro-anatomy, but he suggests that the episodic memory system (which prizes correspondence) developed earlier and is more basic to day-to-day survival than the autobiographical memory system which focuses more on coherence and is essential for the development of a goal or ‘identity’ driven self. The two systems are not exclusive—autobiographical memory selects from episodic memory in the creation of a coherent self.

In expanding these ideas to communities of audiences and narrative traditions, what I think we can say is that ancient audiences were accustomed to making sense of each story on its own terms, nonplussed by details that might conflict with other story traditions, because they belong to those other stories. The force of narrative coherence supersedes correspondence to ‘facts’ in other tales because what matters in each telling is the story in process. To an extent, these forces and the aesthetics they imply are operative throughout early Greek poetry (consider Pindar) and at play as well in the ‘innovations’ we see in Athenian Tragedy.

To return to book 5 of the Iliad: Aphrodite has a mother because it makes sense for the global context of the epic (where Zeus is the “father of gods and men”) and because it makes sense for this scene. Whether or not this is Homeric “invention” is almost beside the point. Certainly the simplicity of the name Diône and the lack of her presence in other narratives implies that this detail is important, even idiopathic to this (kind of) scene, but it tells us nothing about whether or not earlier versions of this theme including this detail or whether similar moments occurred in antecedent or parallel traditions. The challenge, as always, is to make sense of how this passage supports the Iliad we possess.

Cribbing from the Muses here: we cannot know if ‘Homer’ made something up, so should we bother worrying about it?

Short bibliography

Alden, Maureen Joan. “The rôle of Calypso in the Odyssey.” Antike und Abendland, vol. XXXI, 1985, pp. 97-107.

Barker, Elton T. E.. “The « Iliad »’s big swoon: a case of innovation within the epic tradition ?.” Trends in Classics, vol. 3, no. 1, 2011, pp. 1-17.

Barker, Elton T. E., and Joel P. Christensen. 2019. Homer’s Thebes: Epic Rivalries and the Appropriation of Mythical Pasts. Hellenic Studies Series 84. Washington, DC: Center for Hellenic Studies

Berg, Nils and Haug, Dag Trygve Truslew. “Dividing Homer. 2,: Innovation vs. tradition in Homer : an overlooked piece of evidence.” Symbolae Osloenses, vol. 75, 2000, pp. 5-23. Doi: 10.1080/003976700300005811

Bruce K. Braswell. “Mythological Innovation in the Iliad.” Classical Quarterly 21 (1971) 16-26.

Christensen, Joel P.. “Innovation and tradition revisited: the near-synonymy of ἀμύνω and ἀλέξω as a case study in Homeric composition.” The Classical Journal, vol. 108, no. 3, 2012-2013, pp. 257-296.

Combellack, Frederick M.. “Homer the innovator.” Classical Philology, vol. LXXI, 1976, pp. 44-55.

Martin A. Conway. “Memory and the Self,” Journal of Memory and Language 53 (2005) 594-628.

Fantuzzi, Marco and Tsagalis, Christos. “« Kyklos », the Epic Cycle and Cyclic poetry.” The Greek Epic Cycle and its ancient reception : a companion. Eds. Fantuzzi, Marco and Tsagalis, Christos. Cambridge: Cambridge University Pr., 2015. 1-40.

Bernard Fenik. Homer: Tradition and Invention.  Leiden, 1978.

Ingalls, Wayne B.. “Linguistic and formular innovation in the mythological digressions in the Iliad.” Phoenix, vol. XXXVI, 1982, pp. 201-202.

Jones, Peter. “Poetic invention: the fighting around Troy in the first nine years of the Trojan War.” Homer’s world: fiction, tradition, reality. Eds. Andersen, Øivind and Dickie, Matthew W.. Papers from the Norwegian Institute at Athens; 3. Athens ; Bergen: Norwegian Institute at Athens, 1995. 101-111.

Mueller-Goldingen, Christian. “Tradition und Innovation: zu Stesichoros’ Umgang mit dem Mythos.” L’Antiquité Classique, vol. 69, 2000, pp. 1-19. Doi: 10.3406/antiq.2000.2419

Nussbaum, Alan J.. “The Homeric formulary template and a linguistic innovation in the epics.” Language and meter. Eds. Gunkel, Dieter and Hackstein, Olav. Brill’s Studies in Indo-European Languages and Linguistics; 18. Leiden ; Boston (Mass.): Brill, 2018. 267-318.

Ready, Jonathan L.. The Homeric simile in comparative perspectives : oral traditions from Saudi Arabia to Indonesia. Oxford: Oxford University Pr., 2018.

David C. Rubin. “The Basic-systems Model of Episodic Memory,” Perspectives on Psychological Science 1 (2006) 277-311.

M. M. Willcock. “Mythological Paradeigmata in the Iliad.” Classical Quarterly 14 (1964) 141-151.

—,—.  “Ad Hoc Invention in the Iliad.” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 81 (1977) 41-53.

Two Ways to Decline Zeus: Paradigm, Text, and Story in Iliad 5

Book 5 contains several speeches that engage with themes of theomachy and the Iliad’s relationship with the past. A few of them also can help us think about the poem’s composition and its relationship to other poetic traditions. One speech where many of these issues emerge is Dione’s speech to Aphrodite after Diomedes wounds her.

Aphrodite rescuing her son Aeneas wounded in fight, scene from The Iliad. Shoulder of an Etruscan black-figure amphora, ca. 480 BC
Aphrodite rescuing her son Aeneas wounded in fight, scene from The Iliad. Shoulder of an Etruscan black-figure amphora, ca. 480 BC. Martin-von-Wagner-Museum, L 793 (work on display in the Staatliche Antikensammlungen, room 3, as of Februar 2007).

Homer, Iliad 5. 381-416

“Dione, the shining goddess, answered her then: ‘Endure my child, and restrain yourself even though you are grieving. For many of us who have Olympian homes have caused each other hard pains because of humans. Ares once endured when Otos and strong Ephialtes, The children of Aloes, chained him in a powerful bond. He was tied down for thirteen months in a bronze jar. And then Ares, insatiate of war, would have perished there If their step-mother, the super pretty Eeriboia Had not informed Hermes. He freed Ares Who was in a lot of pain, since his bonds were hurting him. And Hera endured, when the powerful son of Amphitryon Struck her in the right breast with a three-barbed arrow. Then untreatable pain overtook her indeed. And huge Hades endured when the same son of Aegis-bearing Zeus Gave him pain by shooting him among the corpses. Then he went to great Olympos to Zeus’ home, Grieving that he had been allotted pain. That arrow Was lodged in his massive shoulder, and suffered in his heart. Paeon relieved his pains by applying medicine, Since he wasn’t mortal in any way at all. The one who doesn’t hesitate at doing sacrilegious things Is a violence-doing criminal, that guy who harms the gods with arrows. Athena the grey-eyed goddess sent him against you. The fool. Doesn’t Tydeus’ son recognize in his thoughts That someone who fights the gods doesn’t live very long, He won’t ever have children saying “daddy” at his needs When he comes home from war and the terrible battle. So now the son of Tydeus, even if he is super strong, Let him not even think about fighting someone better than you, Lest prudent Aigialeia Adrastus’ daughter Should wake her dear servants from sleep, weeping, Longing for her wedded husband, the best of the Achaeans, That strong wife of horse-taming Diomedes.” 

This passage has a few interesting things in it. First, while there is some evidence for Dione as a goddess outside of the Iliad, in Hesiod and her Homeric Hymn she is the product of Ouranos’ castrated testicles. By having a mother in Homer, Aphrodite is more neatly fit into an Olympian pantheon as a child of Zeus rather than a goddess from an earlier generation. Dione, coincidentally, has been seen as a feminine version of the alternate root for Zeus, Dios.

A short digression, one of the features of the flexibility of Homeric verse is that it admits formal variants that other dialects would tend to reduce. So, for convenience of metrical shape, there are two ways to decline Zeus:

Zeus/ Zēnos / Zēni /Zēna
Zeus / Dios / Dii / Dia

For those who don’t know an inflected language, the declension of a noun is the set of the forms needed to communicate their grammatical function in the sentence. So, Homeric Greek provides two ways to say “of Zeus” (Zēnos/Dios) or “to/for Zeus”(Zēni/Dii). The rhythmic shape of each pair differs long/short vs. short/short; and, further, the initial consonants can change the length of final vowels that precede them. Complex consonants like zeta (closer to the sound ds) can make short vowels that precede them (what we call “long by position” in contrast to “long by nature”).

Back to Dione’s speech: this is a good example of what I have mentioned before, a paradeigma, an example from the past used to persuade someone in the poem’s presence. This one provides a catalogue of divine suffering at the hands of humans to ‘console’ Aphrodite. Each of these examples have story traditions that are explained in the scholia (on which see below) or appear in other extant texts.

Beyond the details, this passage is also often compared for its structure to an epic fragment ascribed to the poet Panyasis in the 5th century BCE:

Panyasis Herakleia fr. 3 Benarbé = 16 K

“Demeter endured; the famous Lame-god endured; 

Poseidon endured; and silver-bowed Apollo endured

to serve a mortal human being for one year 

and even Ares strongheart endured under his father’s compulsion,” 

 

τλῆ μὲν Δημήτηρ, τλῆ δὲ κλυτὸς ᾿Αμφιγυήεις,

τλῆ δὲ Ποσειδάων, τλῆ δ’ ἀργυρότοξος ᾿Απόλλων 

ἀνδρὶ παρὰ θνητῷ θητευσέμεν εἰς ἐνιαυτόν, 

τλῆ δὲ καὶ ὀβριμόθυμος ῎Αρης ὑπὸ πατρὸς ἀνάγκῃ 

Note the repetitions in structures (τλῆ μὲν…τλῆ δὲ), themes (immortals harmed by mortals), and even diction (ὀβριμόθυμος in Panyasis is parallel to ὀβριμοεργὸς in Homer).  The similarity between this passage and the longer speech in Homer has led to much speculation as to the cause: is this catalogue a common structuring motif in early Greek poetry or is it a case of Panyasis imitating Homer (or Homer imitating Panyasis) or something more complex.

(Elton Barker and I have written about this a little: See our discussion in Homer’s Thebes).

An Issue of Texts

Iliad 5.403 reads σχέτλιος ὀβριμοεργὸς ὃς οὐκ ὄθετ’ αἴσυλα ῥέζων but there is a scholion that notes that the Hellenistic editor Aristarchus read αἰσυλοεργός. 

That would give us a different line σχέτλιος *αἰσυλοεργός ὃς οὐκ ὄθετ’ αἴσυλα ῥέζων (Schol. T ad Il. 5.403).. The difference is minor: σχέτλιος ὀβριμοεργὸς is something like a “violence-doing criminal” while σχέτλιος *αἰσυλοεργός is something closer to a “sacrilege-committing criminal”. My guess is that other editors preferred ὀβριμοεργὸς because it is not a hapax legomenon (a word said only once) and because the compound αἰσυλοεργός (aisuloergos) has its sense repeated at the end of the line with αἴσυλα ῥέζων (aisula rezôn). 

These two aesthetic criteria–uniqueness of words, close repetition–are not necessarily at home with the basic aesthetics of Greek poetry. Our scholia–the collection of marginal comments culled from centuries of scholarly editing of and commentary on ancient texts–preserve layers of different approaches to Homer. The editor Aristarchus, one of Homer’s earliest editors, is criticized by some modern authors for preserving unique or otherwise uncommon readings. (See this review by Gregory Nagy of Martin West’s edition of the Iliad for more.) My personal take on this is that the kind of repetition in this line is characteristic of something like an intentional archaism, a  close repetition that hearkens back to the legendary era the speaker is evoking. While the repetition and unique diction may seem odd from Hellenistic and modern aesthetic perspectives, I think it rings better for the context and is truer to the complexity of Homeric poetry.

I have discussed similar textual differences before in an article about a later scene in book 5, centering around Ares where our common text preserves rather bland vocabulary in preference to exceptional diction.

A World of Stories: Mythographical scholia

Another kind of material preserved in the scholia includes additional information about myth from outside Homer. There are several versions of the story of Diomedes’ wife, Aigialeia, in the scholia to Homer. The scholion in this case seems to read Dione’s comment’s as an allusion or even a coded threat about the impact of Athena’s anger on Diomedes in the long run.

Schol. T Ad Hom. Il. 5.512ex

“They say that Aigialeia, the youngest of the daughters of Adrastus, was Diomedes’ wife and really longed for him and troubled herself over him through the nights as well. But later, thanks to the rage of Aphrodite, she slept with a band of Argive youths and later on, Kometes, the son of Sthenelos, to whom Diomedes had entrusted the affairs of his household. Although she was planning to kill him when he returned home, she spared Diomedes because he fled to the altar of Athena. People say that when he left there he went to Iberia, as some claim, and that he was deceitfully killed by the king Daunus. Others claim that he was killed by Iounios the son of Daunos during a hunt. For this reason, Athena turned him into a god and changed his companions into herons.

The poet does not know of the desire of Kometes and Aigialeia.”

μὴ δὴν Αἰγιάλεια: φασὶν Αἰγιάλειαν τὴν νεωτέραν τῶν᾿Αδρηστίδων γυναῖκα Διομήδους οὖσαν σφόδρα αὐτὸν ἐπιποθεῖν καὶ ἀπολοφύρεσθαι καὶ κατὰ τὰς νύκτας. ὕστερον δὲ κατὰ μῆνιν ᾿Αφροδίτης πάσῃ τῇ νεολαίᾳ τῶν ᾿Αργείων αὐτὴν συγκωμάσαι, ἔσχατον δὲ καὶ †σθενέλῳ τῷ κομήτου†, ὃς ἦν ὑπὸ Διομήδους πιστευθεὶς τὰ κατ’ οἶκον. ἥκοντα δὲ αὐτὸν μέλλων ἀνελεῖν ἐφείσατο διὰ τὸ καταφυγεῖν εἰς τὸν τῆς ᾿Αθηνᾶς βωμόν· ὅθεν αὐτὸν φυγόντα φασὶν ἥκειν εἰς †ἰβηρίαν† κἀκεῖ, ὡς μέν τινες, δολοφονηθῆναι ὑπὸ Δαύνου τοῦ βασιλέως, ὡς δὲ ἔνιοι, ἀπολέσθαι ὑπὸ ᾿Ιουνίου τοῦ Δαύνου παιδὸς ἐν κυνηγεσίοις· ὅθεν αὐτὸν μὲν ἀπεθέωσεν ᾿Αθηνᾶ, τοὺς δὲ ἑταίρους εἰς ἐρωδιοὺς μετέβαλεν. 

τὸν Κομήτου πόθον καὶ Αἰγιαλείας οὐκ οἶδεν ὁ ποιητής. 

There is no way of knowing if this account was written into our out of our Iliad. By which I mean: we can’t really know if ancient audiences had access to this story and part of this is because we don’t have evidence of whether this story was told to flesh out what is said in the speech or if the speech reflects stories that were well known.

The scholiast’s notion that the “poet did not know this story” is a problematic one and one that reflects misunderstanding about Homeric poetic strategy.  Homeric narrative tends to suppress stories that don’t support its local and general aims, something I discuss elsewhere in reference to the Homeric treatment of Cassandra.

 It does seem peculiar that Dione would bring up Diomedes’ wife as all–but it is likely that she was a well-known part of his story as one of the Epigonoi. Actual evidence from early Greek poetry is limited. As far as I can see (and this is more or less confirmed by Timothy Gantz’s Early Greek Myth, 1993: 699), the story is later than the classical period, although a much later scholion to Lykophron suggests the story was told by the archaic poet Mimnermus:

Schol. To Lykophron, Alexandra 610

“Aphrodite, according to Mimnermus, was wounded by Diomedes and caused Aigialeia to sleep with many adulterers and to be loved by Kometes the son of Sthenelos. When he returned to Argos, she plotted against him. Then he fled to the altar of Hera and left with his companions in the night. Then he went to Italy to King aunos who killed him with a trick.”

 ἡ δὲ ᾿Αφροδίτη, καθά φησιν Μίμνερμος (F 22 Bgk), ὑπὸ Διομήδους τρωθεῖσα παρεσκεύασε τὴν Αἰγιαλείαν πολλοῖς μὲν μοιχοῖς συγκοιμηθῆναι, ἐρασθῆναι δὲ καὶ [῾Ιππολύτου] Κομήτου τοῦ Σθενέλου υἱοῦ. τοῦ δὲ Διομήδους παραγενομένου εἰς τὸ ῎Αργος, ἐπιβουλεῦσαι αὐτῶι· τὸν δὲ καταφυγόντα εἰς τὸν βωμὸν τῆς ῞Ηρας, διὰ νυκτὸς φυγεῖν σὺν τοῖς ἑταίροις, καὶ ἐλθεῖν εἰς ᾿Ιταλίαν πρὸς Δαῦνον βασιλέα, ὅστις αὐτὸν <δόλωι> ἀνεῖλεν. 

Some things to read

n.b this is not an exhaustive bibliography. If you’d like anything else included, please let me know.

BOUCHARD, ELSA. “APHRODITE ‘PHILOMMÊDÊS’ IN THE ‘THEOGONY.’” The Journal of Hellenic Studies 135 (2015): 8–18. http://www.jstor.org/stable/44157344.

Contzen, Eva von. “The Limits of Narration: Lists and Literary History.” Style 50, no. 3 (2016): 241–60. https://doi.org/10.5325/style.50.3.0241.

Cook, Arthur Bernard. “Who Was the Wife of Zeus?” The Classical Review 20, no. 7 (1906): 365–78. http://www.jstor.org/stable/695286.

Hadzsits, George Depue. “Aphrodite and the Dione Myth.” The American Journal of Philology 30, no. 1 (1909): 38–53. https://doi.org/10.2307/288458.

Pratt, Louise. “The Parental Ethos of the Iliad.” Hesperia Supplements 41 (2007): 25–40. http://www.jstor.org/stable/20066781.

Sale, W. Merritt. “Aphrodite in the Theogony.” Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association 92 (1961): 508–21. https://doi.org/10.2307/283834.

Willcock, M. M. “Mythological Paradeigma in the Iliad.” The Classical Quarterly 14, no. 2 (1964): 141–54. http://www.jstor.org/stable/637720.

 

Seeing (and Wounding) the Gods: Reading Iliad 5

Book 5 presents the first full aristeia of the Iliad as Athena supports Diomedes’ destruction of the Trojan lines and opposition to the gods. Athena provides Diomedes the ability to see the gods and points him directly at Aphrodite. Diomedes and Athenelos are pitted against Aeneas and Pandaros–in the first of two significant testings of Aeneas in the Iliad–and Diomedes prevails. He wounds Aphrodite when she appears to rescue her son (Aeneas), replacing him with a fake version. To balance this weighing of different heroic traditions, Sarpedon, a son of Zeus, encounters Herakles’ son Tlepolemos. Sarpedon wins but is wounded and has to be saved. The flow of the action angers Athena and Hera who prepare to battle Ares. Zeus permits them to harry him and Diomedes wounds Ares as well. The book ends with the gods pulling back from the battle field, leaving space for the more human plots of book 6.

Each of the major scenes in book 5 contributes critically to some of the major themes I have noted to follow in reading the Iliad: (1) Politics, (2) Heroism; (3) Gods and Humans; (4) Family & Friends; (5) Narrative Traditions. But the central themes I emphasize in reading and teaching book 5 are narrative traditions, heroism, and gods and humans. The paradigmatic consolation Dione offers Aphrodite when she is injured is structurally and thematically interesting, but the primary narrative entanglements of book 6 involve (1) Theomachy and (2) the characterization of Diomedes.

 

Theomachy and Homeric Gods

One of the chief themes of Book 5 is deferred theomachy. The gods engage in direct conflict elsewhere in the epic (most notably in books 13-15 and 20), but here we get a mix of theomachy by proxy (Diomedes wounding Aphrodite at Athena’s urging) and direct conflict (Athena vs. Ares) with Zeus intervening. The behavior of the gods in Homer, however, is crucial to understanding the epic’s messages about human beings.

The theme of theomachy (“war among the gods”) is integrated into the epic both to engage with its place in cosmic history and to appropriate themes from other traditions. For the latter, we have multiple echoes of earlier conflicts between the gods: the apostasy of Poseidon and Apollo that led to their service to build the walls of Troy (see books 7 and 12), reminders from Zeus of how powerful he is and how he punished them before (books 4, 8, 15) and reflections from other gods of how they settled and distributed their rights, alluding to moments that could be (but aren’t) represented in Hesiod’s Theogony

While the Iliad is not explicit about it, divine-conflict deferred or avoided is central to the Trojan War myth writ large, especially around the character of Achilles and his mother Thetis (on which, no one has yet improved upon Laura Slatkin’s elegant The Power of Thetis). The story is deep, but easy to summarize: Prometheus had the secret knowledge of a nymph who would bear a son greater than his father, endangering the cosmos if Zeus or one of his brothers ended up the daddy in question. Zeus releases Prometheus from his bondage and torture in exchange for this information, leading to the arranged marriage of Thetis and Peleus.

So, at the center of Achilles’ apostasy from Agamemnon and his mother’s intervention on his behalf (triggering even more conflict among the gods) is the traditional threat that Achilles’ birth averted: upheaval among the gods. Nevertheless, as a narrative tradition seeking to encompass if not surpass all others, the Iliad still tries to include themes and motifs that would be proper both to the story that was never told (Zeus overthrown by a son) and those that were (Gigantomachies, Titanomachies, etc.)

Book 5 is the first time the gods really get into the action in the Iliad. They stage manage it in books 3 and 4, but finally get their hands dirty here. And a lot of what they do seems pretty embarrassing or even sacrilegious to modern audiences. This connects with the other main function of the gods and theomachy in the Iliad: to elevate the human condition.

Thank you for reading Painful Signs, Or, Joel’s Substack. This post is public so feel free to share it.

Xenophanes, fragments 10-11

“Homer and Hesiod have attributed everything to the gods
that is shameful and reprehensible among men:
theft, adultery and deceiving each other

*      *      *

How they have sung the most the lawless deeds of the gods!
That they steal, commit adultery and deceive one another…

Fr. 10

πάντα θεοῖσ’ ἀνέθηκαν ῞Ομηρός θ’ ῾Ησίοδός τε,
ὅσσα παρ’ ἀνθρώποισιν ὀνείδεα καὶ ψόγος ἐστίν,
κλέπτειν μοιχεύειν τε καὶ ἀλλήλους ἀπατεύειν.

Fr. 11

ὡς πλεῖστ’ ἐφθέγξαντο θεῶν ἀθεμίστια ἔργα,
κλέπτειν μοιχεύειν τε καὶ ἀλλήλους ἀπατεύειν.

Heraclitus, fr. 42

“He used to say that Homer was worthy of being expelled from the contests and whipped along with Archilochus too.”

— —τόν τε ῞Ομηρον ἔφασκεν ἄξιον ἐκ τῶν ἀγώνων ἐκβάλλεσθαι καὶ ῥαπίζεσθαι καὶ ᾿Αρχίλοχον ὁμοίως

Diogenes Laertius, 8.21 (Lives of the Sophists)

“Hieronymos says that when Pythagoras went down into Hades he saw the ghost of Hesiod bound to a bronze pillar, squeaking, and that Homer’s ghost was hanging from a tree surrounded by snakes. They were being punished for the things they said about the gods. And in addition he saw men who were not willing to have sex with their own wives. This is the reason, that Pythagoras was honored by the inhabitants of Croton. Aristippos of Cyrene in his work Peri Physiologoi says that Pythagoras was given his name because he spoke the truth publically [agoreuô] no less than the Pythian oracle.”

φησὶ δ’ ῾Ιερώνυμος (Hiller xxii) κατελθόντα αὐτὸν εἰς ᾅδου τὴν μὲν ῾Ησιόδου ψυχὴν ἰδεῖν πρὸς κίονι χαλκῷ δεδεμένην καὶ τρίζουσαν, τὴν δ’ ῾Ομήρου κρεμαμένην ἀπὸ δένδρου καὶ ὄφεις περὶ αὐτὴν ἀνθ’ ὧν εἶπον περὶ θεῶν, κολαζομένους δὲ καὶ τοὺς μὴ θέλοντας συνεῖναι ταῖς ἑαυτῶν γυναιξί· καὶ δὴ καὶ διὰ τοῦτο τιμηθῆναι  ὑπὸ τῶν ἐν Κρότωνι. φησὶ δ’ ᾿Αρίστιππος ὁ Κυρηναῖος ἐν τῷ Περὶ φυσιολόγων Πυθαγόραν αὐτὸν ὀνομασθῆναι ὅτι τὴν ἀλήθειαν ἠγόρευεν οὐχ ἧττον τοῦ Πυθίου.

There’s a tension between comments like those of Xenophanes and Heraclitus and the assertion by Herodotus (in book 2 of the Histories) that Homer and Hesiod Olympian Pantheon. I think a lot of this tension is a misunderstanding of what the gods in Homer are doing. They are simultaneously representations of divine beings (although not universal) and characters in a story. They do and do not reflect shared Greek beliefs about the gods. In addition, they serve as inducement for audiences to think about things like ‘fate’ and human agency. But they also serve to contrast with humans. The gods can do whatever they please because they face no consequences and live forever; by contrast, human beings face consequences for their actions and have a limited lifespan. The value of human life is thus actually increased by its scarcity and the importance of human choice and agency is all the more elevated by the fact that we can lose something so preciously limited at any moment. The gods end up looking somewhat distant and pathetic by comparison–but this is part of a general cosmic goal of justifying the separation between the worlds of gods and men.

People who focus on epic narrative have noted that the narrative worlds of gods and men overlap but are not coterminous.  Divine players can learn about everything that goes on in the mortal realm, but mortals know only what is directly revealed to them. The external audience witnesses everything. 

color photograph of an oil painting with three main figures in the center: a winged goddess rescuing a semi nude Aphrodite from a warrior in arms
Venus, Wounded by Diomedes, is Saved by Iris by Joseph-Marie Vien

Why Diomedes?

Diomedes is a central figure in book 5’s allusions to theomachy and he helps defer these themes from god-on-god violence to god-by-proxy violence. Part of the reason Diomedes can function as a Theomahkos (on which, see Zoe Stamatopoulou’s great article cited below) is because he is also a substitute Achilles. But, because he is wholly mortal, he does not represent the same threat to the cosmic order. As covered a bit in posts on book 4, Diomedes is an important figure because of his place as a hero who was part of both the Theban and Trojan War traditions. 

In the Iliad, his character is adapted to tell a different story about the way a young hero might be part of a larger coalition. There is of course a lot going on with Diomedes from a mythographical tradition, and he channels that as the Athena-aided hero who does great things in book 5; but he follows an important pattern in the development of his political acumen.

I have written several times on the importance of Diomedes in the Iliad’s political arc (sorry to be obnoxious, but Christensen 2009, 2015, and 2018 below). Here’s a table of his political/forensic actions in the epic.

(1)             Diomedes (implicitly) witnesses the actions and speeches of Iliad 1-3

(2)             Diomedes shows he knows the appropriate parameters for political and martial speech (Il. 4)

(3)             Diomedes practices public speech and is acclaimed by all the Achaians in his refusal of Paris’ offer to return the gifts but not Helen (7.400-2). Acclamation (7.403-4):

(4)             Diomedes practices public speech in criticizing Agamemnon and is acclaimed by all (9.50-1) but is criticized by Nestor for not reaching the télos múthôn (9.53-62). Acclamation (9.50-1)

(5)             Diomedes practices public speech in reaction to Achilles’ rejection of the assembly (9.697-709) and is acclaimed by all the kings.

(6)             Diomedes volunteers to go on a nocturnal spying mission during the council of kings and is encouraged by Agamemnon to choose any companion he wants regardless of nobility (10.219-39)

(7)             Diomedes executes public speech at a critical moment and offers a plan (14.110-32). He is obeyed by all the kings and departs from the epic as a speaker. 

Book 5, of course, stands outside of this narrative arc. Here, he carries out the ideal actions of a god-aided hero, fully replacing Achilles in the ranks of the Achaean warriors, but only for a short time. As you follow Diomedes throughout the epic, note that as soon as Achilles returns, Diomedes recedes from the stage entirely. 

Some guiding questions

What is the relationship between Diomedes and Athena like in book 5?

How does the depiction of the gods in Book 5 contribute to their overall presentation in the Iliad?

How are stories outside the Iliad used in Book 5?

What is the impact of the violence in book 5?

Bibliography on Diomedes

n.b this is not an exhaustive bibliography. If you’d like anything else included, please let me know.

Andersen, Ø. 1978. Die Diomedesgestalt in der Ilias. Oslo.

Christensen, J. P. 2009. “The end of speeches and a speech’s end: Nestor, Diomedes, and the telos muthôn.”’ in K. Myrsiades, ed. Reading Homer: Film and Text. Farleigh.

Christensen, J. P. 2015. “Diomedes’ Foot-wound and the Homeric Reception of Myth.” In Diachrony, Jose Gonzalez (ed.). De Gruyter series, MythosEikonPoesis. 2015, 17–41.

Christensen, J. P. 2018. “Speech Training and the Mastery of Context: Thoas the Aitolian and the Practice of Múthoi” for Homer in Performance: Rhapsodes, Narrators and Characters, Christos Tsagalis and Jonathan Ready (eds.). University of Texas Press, 2018: 255–277.

Christensen, Joel P., and Elton T. E. Barker. “On Not Remembering Tydeus: Agamemnon, Diomedes and the Contest for Thebes.” Materiali e Discussioni per l’analisi Dei Testi Classici, no. 66 (2011): 9–43. http://www.jstor.org/stable/41415488.

Griffin, Jasper. 1986. “Homeric Words and Speakers.” JHS 106: 36–57.

Harries, Byron. “‘Strange Meeting’: Diomedes and Glaucus in ‘Iliad’ 6.” Greece & Rome 40, no. 2 (1993): 133–46. http://www.jstor.org/stable/643154.

HIGBIE, CAROLYN. “DIOMEDES’ GENEALOGY AND ANCIENT CRITICISM.” Arethusa 35, no. 1 (2002): 173–88. http://www.jstor.org/stable/44578455.

Martin 1989, R. The Language of Heroes, Ithaca 1989.

Morrison, James V. “The Function and Context of Homeric Prayers: A Narrative Perspective.” Hermes 119, no. 2 (1991): 145–57. http://www.jstor.org/stable/4476812.

Scodel, Ruth. “Homeric Attribution of Outcomes and Divine Causation.” Syllecta Classica 29 (2018): 1-27. https://doi.org/10.1353/syl.2018.0001.

Stagakis, George. “DOLON, ODYSSEUS AND DIOMEDES IN THE ‘DOLONEIA.’” Rheinisches Museum Für Philologie 130, no. 3/4 (1987): 193–204. http://www.jstor.org/stable/41233632.

Stamatopoulou, Zoe. “Wounding the Gods: The Mortal Theomachos in the Iliad and the Hesiodic Aspis.” Mnemosyne 70, no. 6 (2017): 920–38. https://www.jstor.org/stable/26572880

Stamatopoulou, Zoe. “Wounding the Gods: The Mortal Theomachos in the Iliad and the Hesiodic Aspis.” Mnemosyne 70, no. 6 (2017): 920–38. https://www.jstor.org/stable/26572880

Turkeltaub, Daniel. “Perceiving Iliadic Gods.” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 103 (2007): 51–81. http://www.jstor.org/stable/30032218.

Some more on the Gods in Homer and Theomachy

A W. H. Adkins. ”Homeric Gods and the Values of Homeric Society.” JHS 92 (1972) 1-19.

W. Allan. “Divine Justice and Cosmic Order in Early Greek Epic” JHS 126 (2006) 1–35.

Burkert, Walter.1986. Greek Religion. 119-125.

G. M. Calhoun. “Homer’s Gods: Prolegomena”.  TAPA 68 (1937) 24-25.

Jenny Strauss Clay. The Wrath of Athena: Gods and Men in the Odyssey. Princeton: Princeton  University Press, 1983.

—,—. The Politics of Olympus: Form and Meaning in the Major Homeric Hymns. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1989.

Erbse, Hartmut (1986). Untersuchungen zur Funktion der Götter im homerischen Epos. Berlin: de Gruyter

Friedman, Rachel. 2001. “Divine Dissension and the Narrative of the Iliad.” Helios 28:–118.

Griffin, Jasper. “The Divine Audience and the Religion of the Iliad.” The Classical Quarterly 28, no. 1 (1978): 1–22. http://www.jstor.org/stable/638707.

Emily Kearns. “The Gods in the Homeric Epics.” In Robert Fowler (ed.). The Cambridge Companion to Homer. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004, 59-73.

Lamberton, Robert. 1986. Homer the Theologian: Neoplatonist Allegorical reading and the Growth of the Epic Tradition. Berkeley and Los Angeles.

W. F. Otto. 1954. The Homeric Gods The Spiritual Significance of Greek Religion. Trans. M, Hadas.

Pietro Pucci. “Theology and Poetics in the Iliad.” Arethusa 35 (2002) 17-34

Turkeltaub, Daniel. “Perceiving Iliadic Gods.” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 103 (2007): 51–81. http://www.jstor.org/stable/30032218.

The Rage of Hera and a Dehumanized World

The Divine Council at the Beginning of Iliad 4

In my earlier posts on Iliad 4, I emphasized the opening scene, where Zeus toys with the other gods and entertains the idea of ending the conflict, and one part of the so-called epipolesis, where Agamemnon goes around ‘rallying’ the troops to start the war. I barely discussed the intermediary scene where the gods rekindle the war by prompting Pandaros to break the truce made in book 4 by shooting at Agamemnon.

The structure of the book ends up looking something like this:

Structure of Iliad 4

1-72 Divine Assembly, Articulation of Local Plan

72-222 Rekindling of the Conflict, Wounding of Agamemnon

233-421 Epipolesis

422-544 Battle Scene

As with earlier books, we find the action splits into smaller parts, often 3 or 4, in an analogy to the way we can break down each line of dactylic hexameter into smaller, yet still sensible parts. Each part of this book could conceivably function alone or in a different order. The first section connects us to larger narrative arcs (e.g., the Trojan War and its causes); the second creates a join between the mythical narrative and the particular story of the Iliad (indeed, providing a kind of bridge from Zeus’ “plan” in the cosmic sense to end the race of heroes and the ‘local’ Iliadic plan of having the Greeks lose to appease Achilles’ slighted honor); the third section, building on the wounding of Menelaos in the second, serves chiefly to recharacterize Agamemnon as a leader in the war and to introduce us to warriors who have not spoken much so far, but who will be primary players later (e.g. Idomeneus, Diomedes); and the final martial chaos of the book provides a bridge to the battle and aristeia of book 5.

There’s a lot in this book I haven’t talked about. From the perspective of some of my recent posts attempting to imagine how Homeric heroes think (or are managed etc.). The example of Pandarus being induced to shoot Menealos and break the truce–thus providing some moral case against the Trojans–is interesting. I’d like to spend more time thinking about what Athena says and the figure she dons to persuade him, but that’s probably for the next time I go through the Iliad.

Every time I read Iliad 4 I find myself struck by Hera’s offer to Zeus after he suggests that they just have peace made between the Trojans and Greeks. On one level–if we are thinking about the overlapping motivations of mortals and gods–Hera’s response reflects the deep enmity that either side of a human conflict might feel. Just as at the end of the Odyssey there is no resolution to the cycle of vengeance between Odysseus and the suitors families, so too is there no way to resolve this war without the destruction of Troy (or the Greeks, in an alternate timeline). This is the terrible logic of violence, the inevitable outcome of revenge-fueled ‘justice’: arms are merely put aside until the next opportunity for slaughter. The Odyssey’s final dea ex machina dramatizes this; but before we can get there–or, more properly, to the reconciliations of Illad–by first witnessing the depths and consequences of holding a grudge. 

So, we get to Hera’s response to Zeus.

Homer, Iliad 4.51-61

“I hold three cities dearest to me of all:
Argos, Sparta and Mykene of the wide ways.
Destroy them whenever they are hateful to your heart.
I am not standing before them and I don’t care about them.
For even if I am jealous over them and I don’t want you to destroy them,
I do not deny you in my jealousy because you are stronger than I am.
But it is not right to render my labor useless.
I am a god too, and my lineage comes from the same place as yours.
Crooked minded Kronos fathered me as the most honored of the gods
Both in terms of my birth and because I am called your wife
And you rule among the immortals”

ἤτοι ἐμοὶ τρεῖς μὲν πολὺ φίλταταί εἰσι πόληες
῎Αργός τε Σπάρτη τε καὶ εὐρυάγυια Μυκήνη·
τὰς διαπέρσαι ὅτ’ ἄν τοι ἀπέχθωνται περὶ κῆρι·
τάων οὔ τοι ἐγὼ πρόσθ’ ἵσταμαι οὐδὲ μεγαίρω.
εἴ περ γὰρ φθονέω τε καὶ οὐκ εἰῶ διαπέρσαι,
οὐκ ἀνύω φθονέουσ’ ἐπεὶ ἦ πολὺ φέρτερός ἐσσι.
ἀλλὰ χρὴ καὶ ἐμὸν θέμεναι πόνον οὐκ ἀτέλεστον·
καὶ γὰρ ἐγὼ θεός εἰμι, γένος δέ μοι ἔνθεν ὅθεν σοί,
καί με πρεσβυτάτην τέκετο Κρόνος ἀγκυλομήτης,
ἀμφότερον γενεῇ τε καὶ οὕνεκα σὴ παράκοιτις
κέκλημαι, σὺ δὲ πᾶσι μετ’ ἀθανάτοισιν ἀνάσσεις.

Here, Hera shows that she is so vengeful that she is willing to give up cities that were sacred to her for the destruction of the city of Troy. Any casual reader might note that these are the very cities that have brought some of the largest contingents to Troy! Ancient scholiasts note variously that this scene provides an explanation for Hera’s anger that does not include the judgment of Paris: these are the cities that started all the problems with Helen to begin with!

Schol. bT Ad Hom. Il 51-2 51

“It is notable that the poet wants to place a probable cause for the anger on Hera and it is not that which the myth fashions, that she is angry at the Trojans because Aphrodite was honored ahead of her in the judgment over beauty, instead he says that she loves those cities over which the injustice against Helen occurred.”

ῥητέον δὲ ὅτι εὐπρεπῆ βουλόμενος περιθεῖναι αὐτῇ τὴν αἰτίαν τῆς ὀργῆς ὁ ποιητής,
καὶ οὐχ ἣν ὁ μῦθος ἀναπλάττει, ὡς ἄρα διὰ τὸ μὴ προτιμηθῆναι τῆς ᾿Αφροδίτης ἐπὶ τῇ κρίσει τοῦ κάλλους τοῖς Τρωσὶν ἐχαλέπαινεν, ἐπίτηδες ταύτας φησὶν αὐτὴν τὰς πόλεις φιλεῖν, περὶ ἃς τὸ ἀδίκημα τὸ κατὰ τὴν ῾Ελένην γέγονεν

Schol. A

“Note [that she mentions this] that they are fighting alongside the Greeks on account of these cities, not because of the judgment about beauty offered by Paris, which Homer doesn’t know about”

ὅτι τούτων τῶν πόλεων ἕνεκα συνεμάχουν τοῖς ῞Ελλησιν, οὐ διὰ τὸ ἀποκεκρίσθαι ὑπὸ ᾿Αλεξάνδρου τὸ κάλλος αὐτῶν, ὅπερ οὐκ οἶδεν ῞Ομηρος.

Others (see the bibliography below) have written well about the tension here between a “savage” goddess and the emerging concerns of the Iliad. In particular, there is a thematic arc between this book and book 24 where Hera argues against having Achilles give Hektor’s body back to his family for burial. In each scene, Hera represents that primal vengeance we often associate with chthonic deities like the Furies. In book 4, Zeus doesn’t make Hera relent, but by the end of the epic, Apollo stands to argue against her, and Zeus makes a judgment against her.

File:Hierogamia - Fresco of the divine wedding of Hera and Zeus.jpg
Fresco depicting Hierogamia, the sacred wedding of Hera and Zeus, witnessed by winged Iris, personification of the rainbow. Many ancient Greek cities and towns celebrated this event as a sacred rite. Pompeii, House of the Tragic Poet (VI 8, 5, atrium 3) 45-79 CE

From the perspective of Hesiod’s Theogony, where Zeus stabilizes the divine realm by ensuring that each god has their own honors and place in his universe, this horse-trading of favored cities could be seen as an echo of the conflict between Agamemnon and Achilles: Hera is offering to effect a redistribution of honor through the sacrifice of a favored city. Potential strife is averted through the offer of an exchange of one geras (that token of honor and esteem) for another. There is also an argument I have read suggesting that the cosmic aspect of this exchange of cities provides an explanation for the absence of these cities in the time of the epic’s audience. Such an argument suggests that while Zeus does not agree to take these three cities immediately, but their later obliteration supports the larger motivation of Zeus’ plan to rid the earth of the race of heroes.

But the rights of the gods are more or less fixed. Their world cannot change, so there’s more going on here. From a perspective that makes Iliad 24 a crucial resolution of the epic’s themes, book 4’s dispute is anticipatory: it perpetuates the violence for the audience to experience on the way to the realization that this kind of conflict is not merely unsustainable but it is fundamentally dehumanizing in that it makes people into things and obliterates families and cities. In my own reading of the Iliad in the light of modern violence, the poem itself attempts to re-humanize, to prompt its audience to recognize the folly and the damage of war and the endless, unendurable logic of comeuppance.

In this reading, Hera’s speech should shock audiences into thinking about vengeance and divine caprice. The peril of vengeance is clear; but Hera’s caprice may hint at a theological shift: Zeus’ playfulness and the malice of other gods might just convince some mortals that we need to rely on ourselves to make our lives better, since the gods are certainly not on our side.

A Few things to read

Van Erp Taalman Kip, A. Maria. “The gods of the « Iliad » and the fate of Troy.” Mnemosyne, vol. 53, no. 4, 2000 Ser. 4, pp. 385-402.

O’Brien, Joan V.. The transformation of Hera: a study of ritual, hero and the goddess in the Iliad. Greek Studies: Interdisciplinary Approaches. Lanham (Md.): Rowman and Littlefield, 1993.

O’Brien, Joan. “Homer’s savage Hera.” The Classical Journal, vol. LXXXVI, 1990-1991, pp. 105-125.

Synodinou, Katerina. “The threats of physical abuse of Hera by Zeus in the Iliad.” Wiener Studien, vol. C, 1987, pp. 13-22.

File:Judgement of Paris Louvre F287.jpg
Judgement of Paris. Fragment of an Attic black-figure hydria, 520–510 BC. The name of each character is inscribed above his/her head. Louvre