A heroic blend: Original artwork by Brittany Beverung

In his book The Literary Mind, Mark Turner argues that when we hear (or read) a story, we cannot experience the narrative created by the teller of the tale. Instead, the story unfolds in a cognitive blend in a space between the world of the narrative and the reader’s mind. What this means, in effect, is that our actual mental picture of narrative blends our own experiences and memories with the sketches we receive from stories and generates a new thing, a tale wholly in our own minds.

My general approach to all of the stories told by Homeric speakers is to try to understand that tension between the story that is told and the reaction it elicits by imagining how other characters might mis-read or re-read the story they hear based on their own perspectives or desires. At the same time, however, if we are thinking about Homeric characters telling stories, we also have to think of the way they blend traditional elements with their current circumstances and their own desired outcomes. This tripling and then doubling again of perspectives in turn provides really useful lessons in how to read Homeric poetry which is a prolonged adaptation of received material in particular contexts for diverse and changing audiences.

Let’s get to Nestor: he is positioned by the Iliad as an effective if not an ideal speaker. He has previously used paradigmatic narratives to persuade his audiences to different outcomes. In book 1, he fails to reconcile Achilles and Agamemnon; in book 7 he shames Achaeans into standing up to face Hektor’s challenge. When Nestor speaks to Patroklos, he takes a personal approach: he dismisses Achilles’ concern and provides a catalogue of the wounded Greeks. His opening assertion—that Achilles has no concern for the Greeks—is then balance by a wish to be young again the way he was during some cattle wars. He tells a story of a cattle raid in his youth that led to the Epeians attacking Pylos following the seizure of herds to make up for some stolen horses. Neleus, Nestor’s father, would not allow him to go to war, but he did it any way and killed many men, earning glory for himself.

Nestor moves from his long story to  dismiss Achilles as someone whose bravery is only for himself—he “toils for his virtue alone” (αὐτὰρ ᾿Αχιλλεὺς / οἶος τῆς ἀρετῆς ἀπονήσεται, 11.763). Nestor then reminds Patroklos of his own father Menoitios who advised Patroklos to calm Achilles, to advise him. So Nestor asks him to try to persuade Achilles to return or, if Achilles is holding back for some secret reason, to go to war himself and provide some respite to the Greeks. The narrative lets us know that Nestor “raised the spirit in Patroklos’ chest” (     ῝Ως φάτο, τῷ δ’ ἄρα θυμὸν ἐνὶ στήθεσσιν ὄρινε,) with this speech. Stanley Lombardo translates this line as “This speech put great notions in Patroclus’ head”.

Before thinking about Patroklos, I think it is useful to focus first on how Nestor is adapting this story. The scholia have a few summaries of the events contextualizing Nestor’s tale:

Schol. D ad Hom. Il. 11.672

“Neleus was the son of Poseidon was the best equestrian of his time and he sent horses to Elis for the contest conducted by Augeas. When those horses were victorious, Augeas became envious and took them. He sent the charioteers off untouched. When Neleus learned of this, he maintained peace. But Nestor, his youngest child, gathered an army and attached Elis. He killed many people and regained the horses. They also took more than a little booty from the enemy. Pherecydes tells this story.”

᾿Αμφὶ βοηλασίης. Περὶ βοῶν ἀπελασίας.῞Οτ’ ἐγὼ κτάνον ᾿Ιτυμονῆα. Νηλεὺς ὁΠοσειδῶνος, ἱππικώτατος τῶν καθ’ αὑτὸν γενόμενος, ἔπεμψεν εἰς ῏Ηλιν ἵππους ἐς τὸν ὑπ’ Αὐγέου συντελούμενον ἀγῶνα. Νικησάντων δὲ τούτων, φθονήσας Αὐγέας, ἀπέσπασε τούτους, καὶ τοὺς ἡνιόχους ἀφῆκεν ἀπράκτους. Νηλεὺς δὲ γνοὺς, ἡσυχίαν ἦγε. Νέστωρ δὲ, ὁ τῶν παίδων αὐτοῦ νεώτατος, στρατὸν ἀθροίσας, ἐπῆλθεν ῎Ηλιδι. καὶ πολλοὺς ἀποκτείνας, ἀπέλαβε τοὺς ἵππους. καὶ οὐκ ὀλίγην τῶν πολεμίων ἀπέσυραν λείαν. ῾Η ἱστορία παρὰ Φερεκύδῃ.

I am not sure how much this little narrative does for us! (and if you want much, much more on this, I think Doug Frame’s Hippota Nestor will never be surpassed) I do think we can see the opening and closing of Nestor’s speech as instructive. He focuses on responsibility, friendship, and community in framing his narrative: then, he tells a story about individual glory that seems to redound positively on the community. The most important detail that jumps out is his selection of a particular course of action against his father’s wishes. (Indeed, Patroklos as somehow a child to Achilles, despite his older age, is important to the opening scene in book 16 where Achilles compares him to a little girl tugging at her mother’s apron strings).

Nestor’s request/advice near the end is couched in the caveat: unless Achilles has special knowledge. I think if we remember book 9 correctly, we have no reason to believe that Nestor knows Achilles has sworn an oath not to return to battle. Patroklos, however, certainly knows this. Given his own experience of Achilles’ character and Nestor’s story plus the option of leading the Achaeans to battle, we have to imagine Patroklos as accepting that advice as the only option.

Victoria Pedrick usefully contextualizes this speech in the scholarship of paradeigmata and addresses the question of the ‘lesson’s’ target. According to Pedrick, Nestor’s speech in book 11 differs from other persuasive speeches: She notes that “The absence of both command and direct comparison is not normal in paradigmatic speeches and it makes Nestor’s exhortation in 11 unusually indirect” and suggests that “The implicit character of Nestor’s exhortation can be explained by the fact that Nestor is talking not to Achilles, but to Patroklos. The observation is obvious, but it ought to be emphasized”(59). This interpretation, as she implies, is not fully in accord with the situation: Nestor’s long description of his own accomplishments in battle amount to an aristeia that may be scene as an example of heroic behavior for Achilles. The lesson, Pedrick concludes following Karl Reinhardt, is for Patroklos, or, at least he takes it as a model. One of the difficulties in this argument for me, is following the conclusion (67-68) that Achilles has “misread the situation” and expects an appeal from the Greeks. Achiles has perhaps correctly read the situation, he just does not expect Patroklos to appeal to him and make the request he does.

One of the bugbears stalking this debate is to what extent Nestor adapts or innovates in the telling of his tale and, to make it more complex, how much we can imagine the Homeric narrator adapting and innovating in positioning Nestor to do so. There was a time in Homeric scholarship when some argues that innovation or ‘ad hoc’ invention was difficult to imagine for traditional poetry. This is where cognitive approaches have been helpful in showing how narrative moves and changes based on the audience. Elizabeth Minchin’s article on this speech is especially good: she concludes that “his episode reflects the narrator’s skill in turning traditional material to communicative advantage” (285). Nestor is shown here arguing for two possible outcomes: Achilles returns and receives glory through his aristeia (not through goods, as Phoinix argues), or, if he cannot return for some reason, Patroklos takes his place and wins glory too, providing a break to the Greeks.

Rather than being a trick or insidious, Nestor is hedging his bets. He is clear about the problem, offers potential solutions, and uses himself as an example of winning glory in messed-up situations. We, as the audience, think there is something off here, because we know (1) what Achilles asked of Zeus (to punish the Achaeans) and (2) that Patroklos’ death will bring Achilles back to war.

Some things to read on Nestor in book 11

Frame, Douglas. 2009. Hippota Nestor. Hellenic Studies Series 37. Washington, DC: Center for Hellenic Studies. http://nrs.harvard.edu/urn-3:hul.ebook:CHS_Frame.Hippota_Nestor.2009.

Gaisser, Julia Haig. “A Structural Analysis of the Digressions in the Iliad and the Odyssey.” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 73 (1969): 1–43. https://doi.org/10.2307/311147.

Louden, D. Bruce. “Iliad 11 : healing, healers, Nestor, and Medea.” Yearbook of Ancient Greek Epic, vol. 2, 2018, pp. 151-164. Doi: 10.1163/24688487-00201005

Minchin, Elizabeth. “Speaker and listener, text and context : some notes on the encounter of Nestor and Patroklos in Iliad II.” Classical World, vol. LXXXIV, 1990-1991, pp. 273-285.

Pedrick, Victoria. “The paradigmatic nature of Nestor’s speech in Iliad 11.” TAPA, vol. CXIII, 1983, pp. 55-68.

Karl Reinhardt, Die Iliad und ihr Dichter (Gottingen 1961) 258-64;

Roisman, Hanna M.. “Nestor the good counsellor.” Classical Quarterly, N. S., vol. 55, no. 1, 2005, pp. 17-38. Doi: 10.1093/cq/bmi002

Strauss Clay, Jenny. “Iliad 1.282-284 and Nestor’s rhetoric of compromise.” Mnemosyne, Ser. 4, vol. 67, no. 6, 2014, pp. 987-993. Doi: 10.1163/1568525X-12301444

Willcock, M. M. “Ad Hoc Invention in the Iliad.” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 81 (1977): 41–53. https://doi.org/10.2307/311110.

Some things to read on paradeigmata

Andersen, Øivind. 1987. “Myth Paradigm and Spatial Form in the Iliad.” In Homer Beyond Oral Poetry: Recent Trends in Homeric Interpretation, edited by Jan Bermer and Irene J. F. De Jong. John Benjamins.’

Barker, Elton T. E. and Christensen, Joel P. 2011. “On Not Remembering Tydeus: Agamemnon, Diomedes and the Contest for Thebes.” MD: 9–44.

Brenk, F. 1984 “Dear Child: the Speech of Phoinix and the Tragedy of Achilles in the Ninth Book of the Iliad.” Eranos, 86: 77–86.

Braswell, B. K. 1971. “Mythological Innovation in the Iliad.” CQ, 21: 16-26.

Clark, Matthew. 1997. “Chryses’ Supplication: Speech Act and Mythological Allusion.” Classical Antiquity, 17: 5–24.

Combellack, F.M. 1976. “Homer the Innovator.” CP 71: 44-55.

Edmunds, L. 1997. Myth in Homer, in A New Companion to Homer, edited by I. Morris and B. Powell, 415–441. Leiden.

Held, G. 1987. “Phoinix, Agamemnon and Achilles. Problems and Paradeigmata.” CQ 36: 141-54.

Martin, Richard. 1989. The Language of Heroes: Speech and Performance in the Iliad. Ithaca.

Nagy, Gregory. 1996. Homeric Questions, Austin.

—,—. 2009. “Homer and Greek Myth.” Cambridge Companion to Greek Mythology, 52–82.

Toohey, Peter. 1994. “Epic and Rhetoric.” In Persuasion: Greek Rhetoric in Actions edited by Ian Worthington. London: Routledge: 153–75.

Willcock, M.M. 1967. “Mythological Paradeigmata in the Iliad.” Classical Quarterly, 14:141-151.

____,____. 1977, Ad hoc invention in the Iliad, HSCP 81:41–53.

Yamagata, Naoko. 1991. “Phoinix’s Speech: Is Achilles Punished?” Classical Quarterly, 41:1-15.

We find Achilles eagerly watching the action, despite the fact that it is taking place on the other side of the Achaean fortifications.

Homer, Iliad 11.596-615

“So they were struggling like a burning fire
And Neleus’ horses were bringing Nestor out of the war,
Covered in sweat as they also drove Makhaon, the shepherd of the host.
Shining Achilles recognized him when he saw him.
For he was standing on the stern of his huge-hulled ship,
Watching the terrible conflict and the lamentable retreat.
He quickly turned to his companion Patroklos and spoke
To him next to the ship. He heard as he came from their dwelling
Like Ares himself, and this was the beginning of his trouble.

So, the brave son of Menoitios spoke first:
Why are you calling me, Achilles? What need do you have of me?

Swift footed Achilles spoke to him in answer:

“Shining son of Menoitios, most cherished to my own heart,
Now I think that the Achaeans are about to stand begging
Around my knees. For a need comes upon them, and it is no longer tolerable.

But come, now Patroklos dear to Zeus, go ask Nestor
Who that man is he leads wounded from the war.
Certainly he looks from this angle in every way like Makhaon,
Asclepius’ son, bit I cannot see the man’s eyes,
Since the horses raced past me in their eager stride.”

῝Ως οἳ μὲν μάρναντο δέμας πυρὸς αἰθομένοιο·
Νέστορα δ’ ἐκ πολέμοιο φέρον Νηλήϊαι ἵπποι
ἱδρῶσαι, ἦγον δὲ Μαχάονα ποιμένα λαῶν.
τὸν δὲ ἰδὼν ἐνόησε ποδάρκης δῖος ᾿Αχιλλεύς·
ἑστήκει γὰρ ἐπὶ πρυμνῇ μεγακήτεϊ νηῒ
εἰσορόων πόνον αἰπὺν ἰῶκά τε δακρυόεσσαν.
αἶψα δ’ ἑταῖρον ἑὸν Πατροκλῆα προσέειπε
φθεγξάμενος παρὰ νηός· ὃ δὲ κλισίηθεν ἀκούσας
ἔκμολεν ἶσος ῎Αρηϊ, κακοῦ δ’ ἄρα οἱ πέλεν ἀρχή.
τὸν πρότερος προσέειπε Μενοιτίου ἄλκιμος υἱός·
τίπτέ με κικλήσκεις ᾿Αχιλεῦ; τί δέ σε χρεὼ ἐμεῖο;
τὸν δ’ ἀπαμειβόμενος προσέφη πόδας ὠκὺς ᾿Αχιλλεύς·
δῖε Μενοιτιάδη τῷ ἐμῷ κεχαρισμένε θυμῷ
νῦν ὀΐω περὶ γούνατ’ ἐμὰ στήσεσθαι ᾿Αχαιοὺς
λισσομένους· χρειὼ γὰρ ἱκάνεται οὐκέτ’ ἀνεκτός.
ἀλλ’ ἴθι νῦν Πάτροκλε Διῒ φίλε Νέστορ’ ἔρειο
ὅν τινα τοῦτον ἄγει βεβλημένον ἐκ πολέμοιο·
ἤτοι μὲν τά γ’ ὄπισθε Μαχάονι πάντα ἔοικε
τῷ ᾿Ασκληπιάδῃ, ἀτὰρ οὐκ ἴδον ὄμματα φωτός·
ἵπποι γάρ με παρήϊξαν πρόσσω μεμαυῖαι.

There are some interesting responses from ancient scholars. Variously, they see Achilles’ viewing of the battle as an indication of his character and a creation of suspense.

Schol Tb ad Hom. Il. 11. 600-1 ex

“Achilles is shown to be a lover of war here by his viewing of the battle. Still, the poet crafts this in anticipation for Achilles’ return.”

τὸ φιλοπόλεμον ᾿Αχιλλέως ἐνδείκνυται τῷ θεωρεῖν τὴν μάχην. ἅμα δὲ καὶ ᾠκονόμησε ταύτην ὁ ποιητὴς πρὸς τὴν ἔξοδον ᾿Αχιλλέως.

There is also interest in the action Achilles takes here:

Schol. T ad Hom. Il. 11.611 ex

“It is strange that [Achilles] sends [Patroklos] out to the scene of someone wounded”

ἄτοπον γάρ ἐστιν εἰς τὴν σκηνὴν τοῦ τρωθέντος ἀποστέλλειν αὐτόν.

But many comments attend to the brief narrative foreshadowing “and that was the beginning of evil for him” (κακοῦ δ’ ἄρα οἱ πέλεν ἀρχή).

Schol. bT ad Hom. Il. 11.605 ex

“The declaration makes the audience eager to learn what this evil might be. The poet creates this with a brief indication. If he had done more, he would have ruined the order of events and weakened the poem.”

ἀναπτεροῖ τὸν ἀκροατὴν ἡ ἀναφώνησις ἐπειγόμενον μαθεῖν, τί τὸ κακὸν ἦν. προσοχὴν δὲ ἐργάζεται διὰ βραχείας ἐνδείξεως· εἰ γὰρ πλέον ἐπεξειργάσατο, διέφθειρεν ἂν τὸν ἑξῆς λόγον καὶ ἀπήμβλυνε τὴν ποίησιν.

These comments on Achilles’ character show something of a limited understanding. There is an argument to be made throughout the Iliad that when characters who are not engaged in the conflict are watching the battle they function in part as stand-ins for the external audience, helping us to see the action in a different way. In this, I think about the function of the chorus in Greek tragedy—the choruses are far from neutral parties in Athenian drama, but they are nonetheless capable of acting as vehicles between the main story and the audience. Achilles, standing on the stern of his ship, watching with interest both helps us remember that these events are extraordinary and provides us with a few moments respite from the conflict.

Achilles, however, is not like any other character: when he watches, his interest is something altogether different. His stance in part reminds me of those moments when Zeus retreats to watch the battle from somewhere else. A primary difference is that Achilles’ interest is not neutral: as he himself expresses in this passage, the increased suffering of the Achaeans makes it likely that they will appeal to them again. Indeed, ancient scholars have commented on Achilles standing and watching the battle as evidence of his love of war (he just likes to watch fighting, I guess) or his love of honor (is he rooting for the Achaeans to suffer more quickly so that they will offer him more to return?)

As is usually the case, the ambiguity of the scene is part of the point. While Achilles does say that the Greeks will be begging him soon, he swore an oath not to return to battle until the fire reaches his ships in Iliad 9. That recent action makes it difficult to argue that Achilles is simply waiting to be compensated or glorified. He is concerned about a particular person being injured and wants to know what is actually happening in the conflict. Achilles’ limited knowledge here echoes that part of him that is not super human: his knowledge of others’ deaths and fates. Indeed, this scene’s narrative commentary “and it was the beginning of his trouble” points to the limits of human knowledge. The irony we as the audience know is that Achilles prayed for the Achaeans to suffer to make up for his dishonor and he is just now about to send his own cherished Patroklos out there to become part of the comeuppance.

As Jinyo Kim writes in her 2001 book The Pity of Achilles, the hero’s watching of the conflict is a confirmation of Achilles’ concern for the Greeks: the primary arguments that moved him in the earlier embassy (see especially 103-113). She notes that Achilles’ language about how dire the situation is (λισσομένους· χρειὼ γὰρ ἱκάνεται οὐκέτ’ ἀνεκτός) repeats what Nestor said in the previous book. As Kim notes, Achilles knows the situation is bad and does not need to send Patroklos to confirm it. Instead, he is demonstrating a concern for others that is consonant with his characterization in book 9 and his final turn to empathy in book 24.

Objections to this argument will point out that Achilles himself remains distant: Kim argues that Patroklos here begins to function as a ritual replacement for Achilles in book 11, rather than 16. I think this argument works well to help us understand that Achilles is showing his concern for the Achaeans through Patroklos because he is constrained by the oath he took at the end of book 9. Achilles looks like he is cruel and Nestor expresses criticism to that effect. But Patroklos anticipates this when he says to Nestor: “Divine old man, you know what kind of guy that terrible man is. He would quickly blame the blameless” (εὖ δὲ σὺ οἶσθα γεραιὲ διοτρεφές, οἷος ἐκεῖνος / δεινὸς ἀνήρ· τάχα κεν καὶ ἀναίτιον αἰτιόῳτο (11.653-654). A scholiast explains Patroklos’ comments as somewhat self-defensive: “He is pointing to Achilles’ irascibility, gaining for himself some pardon for not persuading him”  ἐπιτείνει δὲ αὐτοῦ τὸ θυμικόν, συγγνώμην ἑαυτῷ ποριζόμενος τοῦ μὴ πεῖσαι αὐτόν, Schol. bT Ad Hom. Il. 11.654).

But I suspect that there is something more personal. The adjective deinos—which famously can mean ‘terrible, marvelous, amazing’—is only applied to mortals in limited conditions in the Iliad. At its root, it is related to verbs of fear and amazement. Gods leaving or entering battle often receive this description, but Helen uses it in addressing Priam in book 3 (171). There’s a familiar sense to this personal use, indicating that the speaker is full of amazement and confusion at the target’s behavior. Patroklos not understand Achilles’ behavior, just as the members of the Embassy in book 9 are confused.