{I have debated Lucan’s ability before, but this passage has an urgency and power I find compelling)
“Now let ancient myth build up Troy’s walls
and credit it to the gods; let the retreating Parthians
wonder at the brick walls encircling Babylon—
Look, a place as great as that the Tigris or swift Orontes embraces–
one large enough to be a kingdom for Assyrians in the East–
such a space is suddenly enclosed by the tumult of war!
Such labors are wasted.
So many hands might have joined Sestus to Abydos
with an earthenwork made to erase Phrixus’ sea.
Or they could have ripped Corinth from the Peloponnese
To give relief to ships from the distant Cape Malea,
Or some other part of the world–even if nature denied it–
They could have changed the place for the better.
The plain of war is engaged. Here we nourish blood that will flow on all lands;
Here we hold the victims from Thessaly and Libya;
Here the insanity of civil war churns on narrow strands.”
nunc uetus Iliacos attollat fabula muros
ascribatque deis; fragili circumdata testa
moenia mirentur refugi Babylonia Parthi. 50
en, quantum Tigris, quantum celer ambit Orontes,
Assyriis quantum populis telluris Eoae
sufficit in regnum, subitum bellique tumultu
raptum clausit opus. tanti periere labores.
tot potuere manus aut iungere Seston Abydo 55
ingestoque solo Phrixeum elidere pontum,
aut Pelopis latis Ephyren abrumpere regnis
et ratibus longae flexus donare Maleae,
aut aliquem mundi, quamuis natura negasset,
in melius mutare locum. coit area belli: 60
hic alitur sanguis terras fluxurus in omnis,
hic et Thessalicae clades Libycaeque tenentur;
aestuat angusta rabies ciuilis harena.
The poet Hesiod provides two different stories for the genealogy of Strife (Conflict, Competition). One appears in the Theogony and is mostly about War and Violence. The other comes from the Works and Days and is probably a free-market economist’s mythical dream come true. Both, doubtlessly, cause pain.
Hesiod, Theogony, 224-232
“Ruinous night then gave birth to Deception and Sex
And destructive Old Age, and also strong-hearted Strife.
Then hateful Strife gave birth to grief-causing toil,
And Forgetfulness, and Hunger, and tearful Pains,
Battles, Wars, Murders, and Mankillings,
Conflicts, Lies, Arguments, Doubletalk,
Bad-government, Blindness, and Gatherings with others,
And even Oath, who pains mortal men the most of all
Whenever someone willingly breaks a sworn word.”
“There isn’t only a single child called Strife, but there are two
on the earth. Whoever recognizes the first, praises her;
But the other is much-to-blame. They have distinct characters.
The first marshals terrible war and conflict, the wicked witch,
No mortal loves her, I think, but forced by the plans of the gods
They honor the burdensome Strife.
Dusky night bore the other one first
And Kronos’ high-throned son who lives on high
Set her in the roots of the earth and made her much better for men.
She readies even those who are lazy to go to work.
For, whenever a man who shirks hard work sees
Another man who is wealthy, he hurries to plow and plant
And order his house well. Neighbor envies his neighbor
As he becomes comfortable. This is the good Strife for men.
Now, a potter strives with a potter and a carpenter with carpenter—
Even a beggar rivals a beggar, and a singer another singer.”
“After [the details of] the battles are well-known
Wisdom is publicly rejected, affairs are pursued with force,
A good speaker is spurned, and the wretched warrior is loved.
Men strive not with educated speeches but instead with insults
attack one another and enter into mutual enmity.
They seize property suddenly not by the right of law but with swords
As they seek sovereignty and wander with the power of the mob.
<proeliis……promulgatis>
Pellitur e medio sapientia, vi geritur res, 263
Spernitur orator bonus, horridus miles amatur.
Haut doctis dictis certantes sed maledictis
Miscent inter sese inimicitiam agitantes.
Non ex iure manu consertum sed magis ferro
Rem repetunt, regnumque petunt, vadunt solida vi.
The Annales of Quintus Ennius are available only in fragmentary form. They told the tale of Roman history in epic form from the story of Romulus and Remus down to his own time period (2nd Century BCE; Ennius served in the Second Punic War). While there are many fragments, only a handful are longer than a line or two.
It is difficult to evaluate from the short lines the quality of Ennius (his reputation is pretty good). From what we have, however, it seems that he was well-versed in the Homeric epics. One thing to note about the style from a Latin perspective, is how short the sense-units are in comparison to those of a later epic poet like Vergil (the slightly earlier Lucretius seems to be closer to Ennius in allowing most of his lines to make sense on their own).
Indeed, the ringing and repetition of the last line above (Rem repetunt, regnumque petunt, vadunt solida vi) seems much more akin to Lucretian style and some oral Greek traditions, perhaps…
Aristophanes, Knights 581-585 (5th Century BCE) Aristophanes echoes the defender motif and connects it with the glory of Athens as a martial and creative center (perhaps under influence of a more robust Panathenaia)
“O Pallas, protector of the city,
The most sacred city-
and defender of a land
that surpasses all others
in war and poetry.”
Homeric Hymn to Athena 1 (Allen 11) The shorter of the extant Homeric hymns focuses on Athena’s connection with war and heroes
“I begin to sing of Pallas Athena the dread
defender of cities, to whom the acts of war are a concern with Ares:
the cities sacked, the shrill sound, and the battles,
She rescues the host when it leaves and when it returns”
Homeric Hymn to Athena, 2 (Allen, 28) The longer of the extant Homeric Hymns to Athena tells the story of her birth (but not her conception, perhaps reflecting the war-dances done in her honor
“I begin to sing the honored goddess, Pallas Athena,
The grey-eyed, very-clever one with a relentless heart,
A city-defending, revered and courageous maiden
Tritogeneia, whom counselor Zeus himself gave birth to
from his sacred head, already holding her weapons,
all gold and shining. Then awe took all the immortals
who looked on. And she rose from the immortal head
of aegis-bearing Zeus immediately in front of them
shaking her sharp spear. And great Olympos shook
terribly beneath the fury of the grey-eyed goddess
as the ground echoed frightfully around. Even the sea
was churned up with its dark waves and the brine seized
suddenly. The glorious son of Hyperion brought his
swift-footed steeds to rest for a long time until
the maiden Pallas Athena took the divine weapons
from her immortal shoulders. And counselor Zeus laughed.
Hail to you, then, child of aegis-bearing Zeus.
And I will also praise you with yet another song still.”
“If I kill him and Apollo grants me that moment of victory,
I’ll gather up his arms and take them to sacred Ilion
where I will dedicate them in the temple of far-shooting Apollo.
Then I will return his corpse to the well-benched ships
so that the fine-haired Achaians may bury him
and heap up a burial mound on the wide Hellespont.
Then someday one of the later-born men may say
as he sails by in a many-locked ship on the wine-faced sea:
‘This is the gravemarker of a man who died long ago,
a man glorious Hector killed when he was at his best.’
So someone someday will say: and my glory will never perish.”
Too often we use war metaphors to talk about sports—the reasons are simple, most of us act as spectators in both and sports are quite obviously ritualized substitutes as honor competitions. But the stakes are far from the same. At some level, the implied equivalence is a great insult to those who do risk their lives and all of the non-combatants who suffer.
Of course, I offer this as a prelude to the fact that I do irrationally care about the outcome of tonight’s Superbowl. While it might be of little solace to the players (and even less than the fans) that victor and vanquished are united in the story that comes after (and during) the event, Hektor offered some comfort in the speech above. For whatever its worth, it was the comfort that he probably needed most himself.
And don’t hate me: as a New Englander (in exile) it is my sacred duty to root for the Patriots.
Palaiophron brought out a great passage from Herodotus that shows the historian trying to make sense of the mythical accounts of the Trojan War. In the Iliad, Homer actually has Antenor suggest in an assembly in book 7 that the Trojans should give her back. But before then, the elders speak on the topic:
The men who were near Priam, Panthoos, Thymoites
Lampos, Klutios, and Hiketaôn, the descendent of Ares,
Were Oukalegôn and Antênôr, two intelligent men.
The council of elders sat there on the Skaian gates
Slowed by old age, but still fine public speakers
Something like cicadas who sit on the leaf
Of a tree trailing along their lily-thin voices.
When they saw Helen approaching the wall,
They addressed each other with winged words:
“There’s no reason to criticize the Trojans and well-greaved Achaeans
For suffering pain for so long for this woman.
She has the terrible appearance of the immortal goddesses.
But, even though she is like this, let her return in the ships,
To prevent more pain from being left for our children.”
This passage is famous for showing the marginalization of the Trojan elders and for acting as a preface to the famous (and sometimes thought illogical) “viewing from the walls” (Teikhoskopia) when Helen names the Greek warriors for Priam (even though they’ve been fighting before Troy for 9 years). The elders essentially say, yeah, we get it, she’s hot. But, in the wisdom brought by old age, they insist she isn’t worth it.
Perhaps the Trojan elders understand better the insanity of lust than Herodotus…
In the last installment, the frogs denied any responsibility for the death of a mouse, foreswearing any chance to avoid the war…
While Frogs don armor made of leaves
against ranks of mice in acorn greaves
The gods look on in gleeful spite
at the terrible fury of frogs and mice.
So speaking he persuaded everyone to arm themselves.
First, they covered their shins with the leaves of reeds
and they had breastplates from fine yellow beets
while they fitted the leaves of cabbage into shields
and a great sharp reed was worked as a spear for each.
Horns of polished snails covered their heads.
They stood on the high banks defending themselves
As they brandished their spears, the heart of each puffed up.
Zeus called the gods to starry heaven
and showed them the mass of war and strong warriors
so many, so great, carrying enormous spears
just as the army of Centaurs or giants had approached them.
Then laughing sweetly he asked who among the mortals
were supporters for the frogs or mice? And he addressed Athena:
“Daughter, won’t you go forth to help the mice?
For they always dance around your temple
Delighting in the smell and every kind of treat.”
So Kronos’ son said and Athena responded:
“Father I would never come to the aid of the distressed mice
because they have done me many evils
by ruining my garlands and lamps to get at the oil.
The things they do really wear at my thoughts.
They eat away at the robe which I wore myself out weaving
from tender wool and which I spun on a great warp–
they fill it with holes. The lender entrusted it to me
and it makes me his debtor, a thing horrible for the gods.
For I spun it in debt and I can’t pay it back.
But there is no way I want to help the frogs.
For these creatures are not of sound mind, but yesterday
When I was returning from war and really worn out
and needing sleep, they didn’t allow me even to snooze
because of their ruckus. And I laid there sleepless,
with a headache until the rooster crowed.
Come on, let the gods avoid helping them,
lest one of them get wounded by a sharp missile.
For they are fighting in close ranks, even if a god should near them.
Let’s instead enjoy watching this battle from heaven.”
When the Mice arm themselves for War
No Frog will fear their martial roar.
They make their battle plans,
And arm themselves to a ‘man’
To station their treacherous ambush on the shore.
“In saying this he persuaded everyone to arm themselves
And Ares who loves war armed them.
First they fit their greaves to their two legs
After breaking some pale beans and fitting them well,
beans they nibbled clean by working on them all night.
They had chest pieces made of reed-bound hides
which they made skillfully after flaying a weasel.
Their shield was the middle-section of a lamp. And their spear
Was a well-measured needle, a completely bronze work of Ares.
The helmet on their temples was the husk of chick pea. Continue reading “The Battle of Frogs and Mice, Part 7: The Mice Arm and Frogs Respond”→
