in the context of discussing ērato and Arētē

comment on Apollo’s arrows indicating death by disease, in the context of discussing O.07.063-066

discussion of the motif of Nestor’s three-generation lifespan in both the Iliad and the Odyssey

analysis of Nestor as the only Homeric man to outlive Glaucus’ dictum (Il. VI.46ff.). Suggests that Nestor’s survival is a remnant of his possible former mythological status as a god

commentary on Nestor’s comparison between the heroes of his youth and those at Troy as possible model for comparisons of men of today with heroes at Troy

On mēnis ‘anger’: see especially the comment on I.01.001–002

On eris ‘strife’: see the comment on I.01.008–012

On neikos ‘quarrel’: see the comment on I.02.221

The main theme of the narration is signaled right away. By theme I mean a basic unit of content or meaning in Homeric poetry: see the inventory of Words and Ideas. The signaling is accomplished by way of the first word of the very first verse of the Homeric Iliad. The word is mēnis ‘anger’, I.01.001, and it refers to the anger of Achilles. A definitive book on this word is Muellner 1996. The Master Narrator begins his narration by focusing on this anger: he invokes a Muse, as a goddess of inspiration whom he addresses here simply as theā ‘goddess’, and he calls on her to sing for him this anger, I.01.001. On the term Master Narrator, see the inventory of Words and Ideas; on the idea of the Muse(s) as the goddess(es) of poetic inspiration, see the general comment at I.02.484–487 and the special comments at I.02.484 and at I.02.761. The subject that the Master Narrator has chosen to narrate, the anger of Achilles, is the grammatical object of the verb aeidein ‘sing’. So, the narrative subject is the grammatical object. The Master Narrator is calling on the Muse to sing the anger, not just sing about the anger. The song is not only about the anger: it is the anger itself. The song captures the total reality of the anger. The Master Narrator proceeds to tell about this anger: it happened because of a quarrel, as signaled especially by the words erizein ‘have strife’ at I.01.006 and eris ‘strife’ at I.01.008. This quarrel in the Iliad is parallel to another quarrel that is narrated in a “micro-Iliad” that we find embedded in the Odyssey. This micro-Iliad is the First Song of Demodokos, O.08.072–083, and the quarrel there is signaled especially by the word neikos ‘quarrel’ at O.08.075. It has been debated whether the quarrel scene in this “micro-Iliad” was modeled on a quarrel-scene in the Cypria, which was part of the epic Cycle. On the terms epic and epic Cycle, see the Inventory of terms and names. But the quarrel scenes of the Iliad, the Cypria, and the “micro-Iliad” can be seen as stemming from epic traditions that were originally independent of each other. On the term epic, used here for the first time in these comments on the Homeric Iliad, see again the inventory of Words and Ideas.

The comments I offered in Classical Inquiries 2016-2017 on Iliad Rhapsody 1 through Rhapsody 24, starting here with Rhapsody 1, were based mostly on details that derive from seven books that I indicate in the Bibliography by way of these abbreviations: BA, GMP, H24H, HC, HPC, HQ, HR, MoM, PasP, PH. Each one of these books has its own index locorum. My colleague Anita Nikkanen, an Associate Editor for the online project A Homer commentary in progress, tracked the sequences of Homeric verses as listed in the indices for six of these books and then summarized my comments on those verses. Following up on her meticulous work, I am in the process of converting her summaries into a form of commentary that is being incorporated into AHCIP. My comments on the Iliad as I presented them in Classical Inquiries 2016-2017 are merely samplings of the content that I hope to contribute to the overall commentary, to which a number of other colleagues are also contributing their own comments. That said, I now proceed to offer a sampling of comments on Rhapsody 1. At this point, my comments about this beginning of beginnings need no further introduction of their own.

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“The Rage of Achilles,” by Giovanni Battista Tiepolo, 1757, [public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

On eris ‘strife’: I.01.008–012, I.01.177, I.01.177, I.03.100, I.05.891, I.11.005–016.

The Master Narrator calls on the Muse to explain the cause of the eris ‘strife’. See also the pointed use of the word eris ‘strife’ at Pindar Paean 6.50–53. It is now revealed that the god Apollo has a basic role in the plot of the Iliad, and that he too was angry at Agamemnon, even before Achilles became angry at this over-king. It is now also revealed that Apollo himself has agency in the outcome of the epic that we know as the Iliad. On the term epic, mentioned already in the comment at I.01.001-012, see the inventory of Words and Ideas. In the version of the epic as we have it, however, such an agency of Apollo is subsumed under the ultimate divine agency represented by the Will of Zeus. In earlier versions of the Iliad, on the other hand, the events of the epic could actually be attributed to the agency of Apollo. More on this subject in HPC 111–115.

Speakers who hold a skēptron ‘scepter’, speak with a kingly authority emanating from the over-king of the gods, Zeus.

The adverb aiei ‘forever’ is the old locative case of the noun aiōn ‘life-force, lifetime’. The use of the locative indicates that the ‘life-force’ keeps coming back to life by way of a ‘recircling of time’. So, aiei means literally ‘in a recircling of time’, signaling an eternal return, a perpetual starting-over.

These two verses are in the list of West’s (2001:40n33) list of plus-verses, in the context of analyzing plus-verses in Zenodotus’ (vs. Aristarchus’) text of Homer and Zenodotus’ deletion as well as athetesis of them [MRBTP: scholia]

Kalkhas, as ‘the best of the bird-watching seers’, belongs to a more restricted category than the category we see in the expression ‘the best of the Achaeans’.

The words spoken by Kalkhas the seer here at I.01.074–083 indicate three different kinds of anger: mēnis at I.01.075, kholos at I.01.081, and kotos at I.01.082. In the case of mēnis, it is a kind of “cosmic sanction”: I cite the definitive work of Muellner 1996, especially ch.1. As for kholos, it is a kind of explosive anger that is generally instantaneous, as opposed to kotos, which is an anger that is timed to go off only in the fullness of time, when the course of events in the narration has come to fulfillment, as expressed here at I.01.082 by way of the verb teleîn ‘come to fulfillment’. On kotos in particular and on kholos in general, see Walsh 2013, especially ch. 1, where he analyzes the wording of the seer here at I.01.074–083 as a kind of “folk definition” for all three of the different kinds of anger mentioned in this passage.

The narration of the Iliad, from the start, sets up a parallelism between the hero Achilles and the god Apollo.

When the hero Achilles swears by the god Apollo, he marks himself as a Doppelgänger of the god. (I use here the word Doppelgänger, borrowed from German, in line with standard definitions found in English-language dictionaries.)

The meaning of eukhesthai as ‘declare’ has to do with speaking for the record in the form of ‘boasting’ or ‘praying’ or ‘juridically declaring’ (Muellner 1976). The question of who is the ‘best of the Achaeans’ is being contested here.

Before the hero Achilles ever felt mēnis ‘anger’, the god Apollo already felt mēnis, and it was the god’s anger that ultimately led to the hero’s anger. Relevant are the words akhos ‘grief’ and algea ‘pains’, which are used in equivalent contexts.

The paragraph that follows is meant to illustrate, for those who are reading the Iliad for the first time, the kinds of textual variations that we find in the manuscript tradition.

Iliad 1.97 οὐδ’ ὅ γε πρὶν λοιμοῖο βαρείας χεῖρας ἀφέξει Iliad 1.97 variant οὐδ’ ὅ γε πρὶν Δαναοῖσιν ἀεικέα λοιγὸν ἀπώσει The verse as we see it in our base text shows a reading that matches what we read in the majority of medieval manuscripts. Such a majority of medieval manuscript readings is conventionally known as Ω. The manuscript known as Venetus A is among the Ω manuscripts that shows this reading in its base text. But there is also a variant of this verse, which I call “Iliad 1.97 variant,” and this variant verse shows the variant wording Δαναοῖσιν ἀεικέα λοιγὸν ἀπώσει instead of λοιμοῖο βαρείας χεῖρας ἀφέξει. In the Venetus A, this variant wording is actually written out in the space between the Iliadic text and the text of the marginal scholia. The scholia found in that space are known as the text scholia. And the text scholia in this case add a comment after quoting the variant wording: οὕτως αἱ ᾿Αριστάρχου ‘this is the way the (two) manuscripts of Aristarchus (have it)’. Also, in the marginal scholia of the Venetus A, we read a summary of the reportage of Didymus, who says that Aristarchus, in a treatise that he produced in response to one Komanos, preferred the reading of the Iliad 1.97 variant. And Aristarchus found the same variant in the manuscript of Rhianos and in the Massaliotike. As for Didymus himself, he found the reading of the Iliad 1.97 variant in ‘the (two) manuscripts of Aristarchus’, to which he frequently refers. It can be shown that these two manuscripts used by Didymus had base texts that no longer matched the original base text of Aristarchus, who flourished about 150 years before Didymus (and Aristonicus). Didymus remarks that the other reading that he knows, which is what we read as Iliad 1.97, must have been the reading in the text of Zenodotus. The way that Didymus says this makes me think that he did not have access to the original base text of Aristarchus. The reading that we read in our base text is also given by van Thiel in the base text of his edition of the Iliad. By contrast with van Thiel, Allen and other modern editors give the reading “Iliad 1.97 variant” in their base texts. They do so even though Aristarchus in his base text must have given the same reading that we give in our base text. GN 2010.02.20, updated 2016.02.05.

The words akhos ‘grief’ and algea ‘pains’ are used in equivalent contexts.

When Achilles insults Agamemnon by calling him philo-kteanōtatos ‘most loving of material gain’, the framing narration is referring to the general theme of Agamemnon’s greediness.

theoeikelos applied only to Achilles in the Iliad (as in this verse), in the context of analyzing the convergences between the (wording) of Sappho 44 and the Iliad, here specifically the application of the epithet in Sappho 44 to Hector and Andromache and its ominous dimension when analyzed in light of the Iliad

The theme of the Will of Zeus is relevant to questions of juridical responsibility, as expressed by the adjective aitios ‘responsible’. More on the meaning of aitios and its relevance to the Will of Zeus in GN 2016.05.26.

The traditional epithet for Phthie, the homeland of Achilles, is bōti-aneira ‘she who nourishes men’. There is a paradox built into this noun+epithet combination, since the name Phthiē is associated with the idea of ‘wilting’, as conveyed by the verb phthinesthai ‘wilt, perish’. See also the comments on I.19.322–323 and I.19.329–330, I.19.337.

When Achilles calls Agamemnon kun-ōpa ‘having the looks of a dog’, he is engaging in the language of blame.

In Agamemnon’s language of blame as directed against Achilles, eris ‘strife’ is a defining feature of Achilles.

Insulted by Agamemnon, Achilles experiences instantaneous akhos ‘grief’, I.01.188, which will then undergo a metastasis into mēnis ‘anger’. As we will see in what follows, that anger will then cause akhos ‘grief’ for the Achaeans as an aggregate, and that collective akhos ‘grief’ will end only after Achilles unsays his mēnis ‘anger’, as signaled finally at I.19.074–075.

The epithet applied to the hair of Achilles, xanthos/xanthē ‘golden’, is a marker of the hero’s future immortalization.

There are three Homeric contexts where the word menos ‘mental power’ seems to be the functional equivalent of mēnis ‘anger’. But the question is, can we say that such functional equivalence is relevant to the derivation of both nouns menos and mēnis from the root men-, which refers to a mental activity or a mental state? This question is relevant to another question: in the language of Homeric poetry, how do we define a synonym? As we will see in comments to come, an answer to such a question depends on our understanding of Homeric language as a formulaic system. On the terms formula and formulaic system*, see the inventory of Words and Ideas.

This insult, kunos ommat’ ekhōn ‘having the looks of a dog’, directed at Agamemnon by Achilles, exemplifies the language of blame. As also at cross-ref. I.01.159, the translation ‘having the looks of a dog’ conveys the idea that vision is treated as a “two-way street.” When you look at Agamemnon and he looks back at you, he both looks like a dog and he looks back at you just as a dog would be looking back at you. The English word look conveys a comparably two-way attitude: I can say “I look at a disgraceful person” and I can also say “this person looks disgraceful to me.” To convey the two-way attitude in the original Greek here, the wording of the translation gives ‘having the looks of a dog’ instead of merely ‘having the eyes [ommata] of a dog’.

This insult directed at Agamemnon by Achilles exemplifies the language of blame. Another aspect of the blame here is the double meaning of dēmo- in the compound formation dēmoboros: it could refer either to dēmos ‘community, district’ or to dēmós ‘fat, grease’. Metaphorically, Agamemnon is a ‘devourer of the community’ because he is like a predatory beast that devours the fat of his prey. On metaphor, see the inventory of Words and Ideas; also MoM 0§01, 0§1 Extract 0-A.

The skēptron ‘scepter’ by which Achilles swears his Oath is here viewed as a thing of nature transformed into a thing of culture, by contrast with the scepter that is pictured in the Electra of Sophocles, 417-423.

Achilles swears by the skēptron ‘scepter’ that he holds and then throws down to the ground. This oath of Achilles is correlated with the plot or narrative arc of the Iliad, starting from a point in time when Achilles declares his mēnis ‘anger’ all the way to the point in time when he un-declares or unsays it.

The insulting of Achilles by Agamemnon takes on a special meaning in the Iliad because the Master Narrator recognizes Achilles as the ‘best of the Achaeans’.

The meaning of mēnis ‘anger’ in a situation where X is angry at Y does not preclude the idea that Y is also angry at X. There is an ongoing reciprocity of anger between Achilles as the supreme warrior of the Achaeans and Agamemnon as their supreme leader or over-king.

Here is one of the three Homeric contexts where menos ‘mental power’ seems to be a functional equivalent of mēnis ‘anger’. But note the further comments at I.01.207.

The language (ētīmēsen arētēra) here specifies that Agamemnon slighted the tīmē of Chryses in his role as arētēr 'one who prays/curses'.

The notion of slighted tīmē evokes the system of reciprocal exchange between individuals and groups that is the basis of the social system in the epic for mortals and immortals. How this system works and the significance of offenses to it will be tracked in this commentary as part of the treatment of the mēnis theme in the poem, to which they are vitally related. As G. Nagy has shown in Best of the Achaeans, in Epic there is both a divine and a human sense of the word tïmē: in the divine world, tīmē means the 'sphere' in which a divinity operates. For example one part of the sphere of Apollo is both the causing and the healing of loimos 'plague'. By contrast, in the warrior domain, tīmē means an individual's social prestige within the group. This differentiation in meaning is because of the division of labor that obtains among the divinities and of the absence of the division of labor among the heroes — or, to put it another way, to the fact that all members of the warrior class in theory at least compete for excellence in the same set of spheres, which are the ones that are divided up into specializations among the gods. So the same term, timē, can mean general prestige for humans and specific prerogatives for gods. The gods do not conflict with one another except when the boundaries between their prerogatives are not respected, whereas the heroes conflict with each when their prestige as warriors is not respected.

On the other hand, the old man Chryses, unlike the warriors, is a human being with a sphere or prerogative that is specified along with the fact that he has been slighted. In other words, what Agamemnon has done is to slight his prerogative as a person who prays/curses, not his general prestige in the specialized domain of warriors.

The traditional epithet used here for the apoina 'payment of goods offered in exchange for someone' is the word apereisi' 'limitless', an adjective that occurs eleven times in Homeric epic at exactly this point in the line to qualify the neuter plural noun apoina. It also occurs twice, again in the same place in the line, in the form apereisia (without the last syllable elided) as the epithet of the noun eedna 'wedding gift' (Iliad 16.178, Odyssey 19.529; also Hesiod Frag. 198.10 [M-W], with the same line-placement as all other attestations). Like the word apoina, eedna also designates goods given as part of a transaction, but the transaction in question is always and only a wedding, and the goods go with a woman. The fact that apereisia 'limitless' is an otherwise unattested traditional epithet shared only between these two kinds of exchange means that there are analogies between them. The difference between the two is that in a wedding, the gift-goods go with the woman, the third person whose ownership is being transferred from her father's household to her husband's father's household, whereas in a 'payment' like the one being proposed to Agamemnon here, the goods are in exchange for the third person, male or female, whose ownership is being transferred between two others — in this particular case, from Agamemnon to her father. In effect, what Chryses is proposing to Agamemnon and Menelaus and all the Achaeans is the reverse of a wedding gift: the father seeks to retrieve his daughter from a kind of spouse (in rejecting the offer, Agamemnon soon says that he actually prefers her to his own wife, Iliad 1.111-115)  by the offer of gift-goods in exchange for her.

Now we can understand why the goods offered in payment in both cases are qualified as 'without end/limit'. Such exchanges resemble an extreme form of exchange analyzed in detail by Marcel Mauss (see the note on Iliad 1.13-15) called potlatch. Among the Amerindians of the Pacific Northwest, positively ruinous amounts of prestige goods are offered in exchanges between groups, and the exchanges even include the flagrant casting of precious valuables into the sea, the ultimate form of conspicuous consumption. The idea behind potlatch and the epithet apereisia for a payment in this instance or in the case of a wedding seem to me the same: in theory at least, they are offers of exchange that cannot be refused, and they are designed to display the ultimate wealth, prestige, and power of the party that offers them, though like other gifts they appear on the surface to be generous. Their extreme nature is also designed to be absolute in its effectiveness: the 'limitless' wedding gift cements the marriage because the husband's father's household will never give up such wealth (if the bride leaves the marriage, the wealth goes with her!), and Chryses' 'limitless' payment perfects the disjunction between the two parties because the wealth offered in exchange for the woman is beyond adequate as compensation for her. The key is, as Mauss showed, that gifts are both obligatory to give, obligatory to receive, and they generate obligations in return among those who receive them. The bigger the gifts the more stringent the obligations. So what happens if the gifts are 'infinite', as here? It would seem that the obligations are then absolute.

Chrysēs came to the ships to engage in an exchange, a behavior that the anthropologist/sociologist Marcel Mauss described as the basic form of social contract in archaic societies. Archaic exchange systems, he said, are "total social phenomena", in that they seamlessly interweave economic, sacral, and social or group interaction. That is exactly what we see here: the intention to exchange involves Chrysēs with the whole social group (l. 15, πάντας Ἀχαιούς, 'all Achaeans'), it requires of him the transfer of wealth —the verb φέρω 'carry, bear' (l. 13) designates the movement of prestige goods that cannot move by themselves—, and it is accompanied by the display of sacred symbols referred to the god Apollo, namely wreaths on a golden scepter (lines 14-15).

This attempt at exchange may look to us like the kind of economic transaction that only occurs between civilized people and criminals. It is customary to translate the word λυσόμενος in line 13 with the English word 'ransom', because for us, the exchange of human beings for goods is 'human trafficking,' which is by definition a heinous evil. Mauss also clarifies this problem, which is one of the most difficult aspects of an archaic exchange system for us to understand. In the world of Homeric epic, Mauss would say, humans are exchangeable for goods not because humans are commodified or objectified, but because goods are humanized, because they are as dear and as attached to human beings as human beings are to each other. Lacking a medium of exchange like coins or bills, which can dehumanize even prestige goods made by artists or skilled craftsmen, people in the Epic world not only identify themselves with what we call objects (as we sometimes do), they also do not categorically distinguish between people and things as property types. Instead, the regnant distinction is between immovable goods (those which cannot move themselves), like tripods or golden cups or woven goods, and movable ones (those which can move themselves), like cattle or human beings or slaves.

References

Mauss, Marcel. "Essai sur le don: forme et raison de l'change dans les sociétés archaïques, L'Année sociologique, nouvelle série, I, 1923-1924 (http://classiques.uqac.ca/classiques/mauss_marcel/socio_et_anthropo/2_essai_sur_le_don/essai_sur_le_don.pdf) translated into English by W. D. Halls as The Gift: The form and reason for exchange in archaic societies, New York & London, 1990).

Benveniste, Emile. "Don et échange dans le vocabulaire indo-européen," L'Année sociologique, 3^e série, t. II, 1951, and reprinted in his Problèmes de linguistique générale, Paris, 1966, pp. 315-326; English translation by Mary Elizabeth Meek as Problems in general linguistics, Coral Gables, 1971.

The noun apoina 'payment' occurs as the object of the verb dekhesthai 'receive, accept' in various forms six times in the Iliad (Iliad 1.20, 1.23, 1.111, 1.377, 6.46, 11.131) and once in the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite (l. 140); the same is true of the noun poinē 'payment, blood money' (Iliad 9.633, 9.636, 17.207-208), which is derived from the same root as apoina. * Another verb is used once to denote not 'accepting' a poinē in the legal dispute described on Achilles' shield  at Iliad 18.501, namely helesthai 'take for oneself'. There is a demonstrably living analogy between poinē and apoina, as one can see from the context of Iliad 9.632-637, which draws an explicit parallel between the two, so the use of a different verb, helesthai, in the instance of a negated poinē, reinforces the normality of the syntactic formula is apoina + forms of dekhesthai* 'to accept'.

Payments designated as apoina in Homeric epic are customarily accepted. We can say that the traditional diction is equipped for that, and in archaic exchange systems as described by Mauss, there are symmetrical obligations: there is an obligation to accept an offer to exchange just as there is an obligation to reciprocate appropriately once one accepts an exchange. There are exceptions to those obligations, but they are fraught with danger and power for all concerned. One such exception is this one, the first scene in the Iliad, in which Agamemnon rejects the apoina of Chryses. For another example, we can point to Achilles fighting in the river Xanthos at the beginning of Iliad 21, when he comes upon the Trojan Lycaon, a son of Priam whom he had not long before captured and 'sold' — the difference between 'selling' and giving apoina for a person is not to be pressed (see peperēmenos 'having been sold' 21.58, 21.78 vs. 21.99 apoina for the same transaction as well as the extremely archaic expression ōnon edōke 'paid a price' at 21.41 for another transaction of the same type). Lycaon grabs Achilles by the knees in the posture of a suppliant, in other words, a person urgently requesting a customarily obligatory "favor". Yet Achilles tells him that his (Achilles') days of accepting payment for captives, which he did often before (21.100-102), have ended with the death of Patroklos, especially, he says, when it comes to the sons of Priam. Then, by way of consolation for both himself and Lycaon, Achilles goes on to describe the coming day of his own death, at dawn or midday or in the afternoon, by a spear or an arrow from a bowstring (21.106-113). Then he kills Lycaon, brutally, confronting us, too, with the moment of death for a person who has just come to life for us in the narrative. For a third example, there is Achilles' refusal of Agamemnon's apoina for him in Iliad 9, but as we shall see, there are significant anomalies in that failed transaction that are not present in this instance or in Achilles' refusal of Lycaon. A better parallel to the present moment is the legal dispute on Achilles' shield, which turns on the question, in what circumstances the refusal of a poinē could be proper — with the implication that there may or may not be such circumstances.

The language precisely contrasts the response of 'all the other Achaeans' (alloi...pantes...Akhaioi, l. 22) with that of Agamemnon, 'but not to Agamemnon son of Atreus' (all' ouk Atreidēi Agamemnon, l. 24) to the offer of a 'limitless ransom' by the old man, Chryses. That Agamemnon's response paces him in a minority of one is another sign that the offer of payment is obligatory by custom and that its refusal is dangerous and powerful when viewed in the context of other offers of apoina 'payment' and their refusal/acceptance (see notes above on Iliad 1.13, 1.13-15, and 1.20; for a parallel to Agamemnon's isolated position here, see Odyssey 3.141-143). D. Elmer (2103, pp. 30-31 and chapter 3, pp. 63-85) argues that the diction describing the collective response of  all the Achaeans (alloi...pantes epeuphēmēsan Akhaioi 'all the other Achaeans shouted their approval', l. 22) is also exceptional, not the standard way of expressing communal opinion, as is the utter refusal of Agamemnon to hear and heed their response in rejecting the offer. Note also the semantic parallelism between the earlier expression 'he slighted the prestige of the one who prays/curses' (of Chryses, l. 11, previewing Agamemnon's reaction here), and the Achaeans request that he, by contrast, 'show the priest respect'  (aideisthai hierēa, l. 23). Aidōs (seen here in its denominative verb aideisthai) is another key term in the vocabulary of social value, where a person's aidōs 'respect' is a function of a figure's timē 'prestige, prerogative'. That is why he is again described in his social function as priest, just as he was described as 'the one who prays/curses' in the earlier formulation. In line 23, note again the parallelism and implied equivalence between engaging in exchange (aglaa dekhthai apoina 'to accept the splendid payment') and showing respect for the priest (aideisthai hierea), because a person's value to the society is manifest in the way in which he or she participates in exchange.

Reference

Elmer, David. The Poetics of Consent: Collective Decision Making in the Iliad. Baltimore, 2013.

In rejecting the offer of Chryses, Agamemnon ignores the norms of exchange behavior made concrete by the expression of the common opinion of everyone else in favor of what pleases his own heart's desire (literally, 'to Agamemnon, to his heart'). David Elmer (2013, p. 42-46) has shown that the verb 'to please' that is used here, handanein, is "an essential component of the Iliad's decision-making vocabulary" (p. 44), in which it functions as "a way of signaling divergence from an otherwise cohesive collective will (p. 42)." He also argues that an authoritarian, individualistic preference overriding the collective will is not normative behavior in Homeric society, but its opposite. The norm in decision-making in the Iliad is for the collective will to be decisive (Elmer 2013, Chapter 1). Furthermore, Agamemnon's divergent response represents a failure to perceive the interwoven social and sacral consequences of his act. Agamemnon himself is not only the titular leader of the whole expedition to Troy on his brother's behalf, manifested in his possession of the epithet anax andrōn 'lord of men' (an expression that is used of him 49 of the 54 times it occurs in the Homeric and Hesiodic poems), but he is also the wielder of the sacrificial knife (Hitch 2009, Chapter 4), to which we can compare the role of Chryses as the old man who prays/curses and who bears wreaths on a golden skēptron 'staff/sceptre' (1.14-15): we have discussed above the overt sacred/social aspects of the system of exchange: see the comments on Iliad 1.13-15.

Reference:

Hitch, Sarah. 2009. King of Sacrifice: Ritual and Royal Authority in the Iliad. Washington, available online at http://chs.harvard.edu/CHS/article/display/6167

Homeric prayers, of which this is a relatively standard example, are predicated upon the system of gift exchange that also prevails in human social interaction. Their form and content is a function of that and of the way in which oral traditional poetry composes themes, which are chunks of conventional discourse that exemplify fixed and variable dictional and semantic elements that vary depending upon the particular context of each instance. What we see in this particular prayer are three structural elements that are generalizable but also variable both as to their content and in their presence or absence: 1) an address to a particular divinity; 2) a statement that either generates a reciprocal relationship between the speaking human and the divinity by speech-acting the giving of an obligatory gift now or in the future, or a statement that points to the past existence of a reciprocal relationship between the speaking human and the divinity on the basis of previous successful interactions based on exchanges; 3) a request on the part of the speaking human that the divinity accomplish something on the human's behalf as a function of the divinity's present, past, or future obligation to do so because of the exchange relationship that is being generated, will be generated, or has existed in the past.

So here, Chrysēs first 1) names the divinity in local terms (1.37-39) for the god Apollo — he is not so named but has been identified by his Olympian name in the narrative preceding the prayer as its addressee (1.35); 2) states that in the past, he has put the roof on temples (in other words, completed their construction) and burnt thigh pieces, the choicest part of the sacrificial animals, bulls and goats, as gifts to the divinity that serve as the basis of the request that is coming next; and 3) requests that the divinity fulfill his wish, namely, "may the Danaans pay for my tears with your weapons," an example of negative reciprocity in which bad is returned for bad, just as the overall prayer itself is based on the exchange of good for good.

This line is a multiform of the regular formula for concluding prayers that are labelled with the verb eukhomai, which is a word that designates three different kinds of discourse by using mutually exclusive formulas for each of the three. It has a two-part structure extending  from the line-beginning to the oblgatory word-break within the third foot and from the obligatory word-break to the end of the line. The first chunk, hōs ephat'/ephan eukhomenos/ē/oi/ai, whose subject is always a previously identified mortal or mortals, designates that the discourse that precedes the line was a prayer and is concluded, and the second chunk, tou d' eklue |¯˘˘ | ¯˘#, designates that the divinity addressed, whose name + epithet combination is specified in the space at the end of the line, 'heard' (eklue, cognate with the English word '(k)listen') the prayer (for Poseidon, just the epithet kuanokhaitēs 'with a glossy blue mane' occurs, since his name + epithet combinations are too long to fit the metrical space) . 'Heard' is functionally unmarked in English, but in only one of the 25 occurrences of this formulaic line does it mean anything less than accepted and agreed: at Iliad 16.250, where Zeus accepts one part of Achilles' request about Patroklos and refuses (the verb is aneneue 'was refusing') the other. When the response to the prayer is (exceptionally) negative, the expression tou/tēs d' eklue 'and he/she heard him/her' is replaced with aneneue de + name + epithet (once, Iliad 6.311) 'and she was refusing'  or nemesēse de + name + epithet (once, Iliad 8.198) 'and she was outraged'. There are also two places where tou/tēs d' eklue is replaced with different verbs and divine names to express an exceptionally positive response on the part of the divinity (Odyssey 2.267 and Iliad 15.377). There are also two attestations when the beginning of this line, hōs ephat' eukhomenos, is attested in a non-sacral context that evokes one of the other meanings of the verb eukhomai, 'boast (of warriors in battle)'; see Iliad 5.106 and Iliad 20.393, but in both those cases (and in no others) good medieval manuscripts attest a metrically equivalent variant hōs phat' epeukhomenos which is actually attested in the meaning 'boast' without variants in Homeric Hymn to Apollo 370; so it is clear that just the first half of this formulaic line is, despite a plausible ambiguity, traditionally associated with the meaning 'pray' in sacral contexts.

In short, this line is a manifestation of a superbly efficient and expressive system for concluding a prayer.

The noun kēla that occurs in line is attested in Homeric and Hesiodic poetry by these three formulae at line initial position, line final position, and after the word break in the third foot:

κῆλα Διός 'kēla of Zeus' Hesiod, Theogony 708 and Fragment 204.138

κῆλα θεοῖο# 'kēla of a/the god' Iliad 1.53=1.383

||πιφαυκόμενς τὰ ἂ κῆλα 'showing those kēla of his' Hymn to Apollo 444, Iliad 12.280

The formulas designate the weapons of Zeus in three places (Iliad 12.280 and the two Hesiodic passages) and the arrows of Apollo in three places (Homeric Hymn to Apollo 444 as well as here and in the repetition of this passage at Iliad 1.383). In the case of Zeus' kēla, it is evident that the reference is to his fiery thunderbolts. What is not immediately apparent is that Apollo's kēla are in fact also fire-bearing. Here is the line from the Homeric Hymn:

ἔνθ' ἄρ' ὅ γε φλόγα δαῖε πιφαυσκόμενος τὰ ἃ κῆλα

'there he was making fire blaze, revealing those kēla of his...

And in this passage, in the line that just precedes the occurrence of the formula shared by Zeus and Apollo, kēla theoio 'the god's kēla', we read of the fire of pyres as the immediate consequence of Apollo's arrow-shooting in the line immediately before the current one:

Iliad 1.52 βαλλ'· αἰεὶ δὶ πυραὶ νεκύων καίοντο θαμεῖαι

'he was hitting them; and immediately the pyres of corpses were burning thick and fast'

It is as though the kēla cause the pyres to burn. In seeking the etymology of this term, an underlying assumption has been, I believe, that what Zeus and Apollo share are arrows or things like them (thunderbolts), and so the etymology of kēla has been sought, unsuccessfully, in words in other Indo-European languages for arrows or 'shafts'. But every occurrence of the word in Epic diction evokes fire as an aspect of the kēla. What is happening on a thematic level is also relevant, because Apollo is here exercising mēnis 'cosmic anger' (see Iliad 1.75) by way of cosmic arrows — in fact he is functioning as a variant of Zeus, since striking victims with the thunderbolt is the conventional manifestation of Zeus' mēnis. And we will see that fire and in fact cosmic fire that goes up to the sky can become an expression of Achilles' mēnis as well (on this topic, see also now G. Nagy, "Cataclysm and Ecpyrosis, two symmetrical actions of Zeus as sky-god," Classical Inquiries, May 19, 2016, http://classical-inquiries.chs.harvard.edu/cataclysm-and-ecpyrosis-two-symmetrical-actions-of-zeus-as-sky-god/). On this level, one might prefer to define this word as 'fiery shafts' rather than just 'shafts'. It is not surprising that a connection was made in the Hesiodic scholia and in a late Byzantine Homeric gloss of this line which perhaps reflects earlier exegetical traditions:

Scholion on Theogony 708: <κῆλα Διός:> τὰ καυστικὰ σημεῖα "Zeus's kēla: burning signs/omens";

13th Century Byzantine on Iliad 1.51: ...ᾤχετο κῆλα θεοῖο. παρὰ τὸν κήσω μέλλοντα τὸν δηλοῦντα τὸ καύσω. ὅθεν καὶ τό· πυρὶ κηλέῳ, τουτέστι καυστικῷ,  "kēla of the god:  [derived] from the future [form] κήσω, which shows the [verbal form] καύσω. From where also the [phrase]: πυρὶ κηλέῳ 'with blazing fire' (Iliad 8.217, etc.), that is, καυστικῷ 'burning'") from Pseudo-Zonaras Lexicon, ed. E. Crusius 1808, rear. 1967, alphabetic letter kappa, p. 1206, line 3

It is reasonable to believe that the poetic tradition also sensed the relationship between κῆλα and the verb καίω, whether by way of folk etymology or, perhaps, by way of an inherited etymological relationship.

The adjective κηλέῳ 'blazing' is attested only in the formula πυρὶ κηλέῳ 'blazing fire', in synizesis, six times in line final position, once after the triphthemimeral caesura, and once in the form πυρὶ κηλείῳ before the penthehemimeral caesura.  The form cited just above from the  as the future of the verb καίω, namely κήσω, is not otherwise attested and may be a mistake, but the form ἔκηα (Iliad 1.40 etc.), which is an archaic athematic aorist with the 1st person singular ending -ṃ that was later misunderstood as a first aorist ending -α, attests to the verbal root for 'burn' with that vocalism (κη-). That form should be reconstructed as *ἔκηϝα, to which we can compare the Thessalian εκηυα attested in a ?? inscription.

autoisi anticipating the lifelessness of the men inflicted by Apollo

commentary on Achilles’ solidarity in calling an assembly to face the consequences of Apollo’s mēnis

comment on the relationship between ‘coming home’ and ‘escaping death’

in the list of offenses that (threaten to) incur mēnis \n\n----- Merged Content -----

\n\n Apollo’s mēnis (in the context of discussing mēnis as incurred by violations of the value system based on group distribution and reciprocal exchange)

commentary on kholos and kotos in opposition to mēnis, in the context of criticism of Considine

In a list of examples of eukhesthai + dative (formulas which report prayers).

\r\nAnomaly of the formula in this verse, namely, the complement to eukhomai is not a noun (e.g. name of divinity) but a pronoun.

argument for the contextual unity of eukhesthai einai + comparative/superlative expressions regarding superiority in age on the one hand and prestige, physical prowess and physical beauty on the other (secular contexts)

In a list of examples of eukhesthai einai + comparative/superlative (secular contexts).

\r\nArgument for the contextual unity of eukhesthai einai + comparative/superlative expressions regarding superiority in age on the one hand and prestige, physical prowess and physical beauty on the other (secular contexts)

\r\nComparison of the verse with eukhomai einai + superlative with a similar construction attested in the Rig-Veda, in the context of analyzing the etymology of eukhesthai

apoina as object of dekhesthai, in the context of analyzing I.18.499-500 (litigation scene on the Shield), and Corlu, Benveniste, and Chantraine

commentary on the similarities between Demeter’s and Achilles’ alienation over the loss of a girl

commentary on ‘gracious’ in the context of appeasing Apollo’s mēnis through ritual

apoina as object of dekhesthai, in the context of analyzing I.18.499-500 (litigation scene on the Shield), and Corlu, Benveniste, and Chantraine

commentary on Agamemnon’s mistake about the exchange value of Chryses

commentary on Agamemnon’s mistake about the exchange value of Chryses

Agamemnon’s social prestige is at issue when he is dishonored (in the context of discussing mēnis as incurred by violations of the value system based on group distribution and reciprocal exchange)

Agamemnon’s social prestige is at issue when he is dishonored (in the context of discussing mēnis as incurred by violations of the value system based on group distribution and reciprocal exchange)

commentary on Achilles’ and Poseidon’s analogous grief at their disregard and abuse of communal division

commentary on Agamemnon’s perception of Achilles’ bidding him to give up his geras

commentary on Agamemnon’s perception of Achilles’ bidding him to give up his geras

commentary on the language of insult, questions of hierarchy and Agamemnon’s disregard for the rules of exchange

comment on pantōn ekpaglotat’ andrōn being unambiguously pejorative

commentary on ‘gracious’ in the context of appeasing Apollo’s mēnis through ritual

comment on Achilles’ speaking of how Agamemnon has undermined the basis of his authority

commentary on the opposition of Phthia and kleos

commentary on it being too much for Achilles to have his prestige damaged by those whose prestige he has come to restore from so far away

commentary on it being too much for Achilles to have his prestige damaged by those whose prestige he has come to restore from so far away

commentary on Achilles calling Agamemnon kunopa, language of blame

comment on Achilles’ complaint that Agamemnon does not look him in the eye (in I.09) already perhaps implicit in the insult kunōpa

comment on the process of exchange and value of the terms proposed by Chryses as meeting the social approval of the whole group, as Mauss’ principles would require

commentary on interconnections of dasmos/daiomai, geras, dais, and the division and hierarchy

commentary on Achilles’ and Poseidon’s analogous grief at their disregard and abuse of communal division

Agamemnon’s mēnis (in the context of discussing mēnis as incurred by violations of the value system based on group distribution and reciprocal exchange)

commentary on timē as ‘prestige’ in this context

Agamemnon’s misapprehension about being the object of Zeus’ affection and esteem (later corrected in I.09)

Agamemnon’s response to Achilles’ oath, question of social rank (with reference to timē he receives from many, including Zeus)

Agamemnon’s social prestige is at issue when he is dishonored (in the context of discussing mēnis as incurred by violations of the value system based on group distribution and reciprocal exchange)

Agamemnon’s response to Achilles’ oath, question of social rank (with reference to Achilles’ claim to superiority that Agamemnon dismisses as violence)

Agamemnon’s response to Achilles’ oath, question of social rank (with reference to Achilles’ claim to superiority that Agamemnon dismisses as physical prowess)

commentary on the relative status of Agamemnon and Achilles, with Agamemnon’s being presented as superior because of his wider rule, but he seems to lack superior force or cunning (cp. myth of Zeus’ kingship)

Agamemnon’s response to Achilles’ oath, question of social rank, and making an analogy between Apollo’s depriving him of Chryseis and his depriving Achilles of Briseis (geras)

Agamemnon’s response to Achilles’ oath, question of social rank, making an analogy between Apollo’s depriving him of Chryseis and his depriving Achilles of Briseis (geras), and Apollo’s mēnis as a response to an offense in the domain of status (justifying Agamemnon’s seizing of Briseis)

Agamemnon’s mēnis (in the context of discussing mēnis as incurred by violations of the value system based on group distribution and reciprocal exchange)

comment on the conflict between Agamemnon and Achilles being couched in the same language as that between Zeus and Poseidon, and the same relationship obtaining between them, too

comment on the conflict between Agamemnon and Achilles being couched in the same language as that between Zeus and Poseidon, and the same relationship obtaining between them, too

Achilles’ responding to Athena’s holding him back from attacking Agamemnon with a proverb about reciprocal obligations

comparison of the representation of Minos and Zeus (here, regarding holding a skēptron), in the context of comparing Plato’s Hippias to Minos

meaning of themis, and disagreeing with Benveniste’s statement that themis concerns the genos and that dikē is inter-familial

commentary on Achilles’ oath, which he takes on the scepter wielded by Achaeans who have preserved the themistes from Zeus

discussion of themistes as coming from Zeus who provides them to the king along with the scepter

comparison of the representation of Minos and Zeus (here, regarding dispensing themistes), in the context of comparing Plato’s Hippias to Minos

mēnis and loss of solidarity in Achilles’ oath, the language of which betrays the cost of the loss

mēnis and loss of solidarity in Achilles’ oath contrasted with I.19.151-152 where Achilles likewise speaks of himself in the third person (end of mēnis and bond of philotēs)

scope of Achilles’ oath in the perspective of the mēnis theme

Agamemnon’s mēnis (in the context of discussing mēnis as incurred by violations of the value system based on group distribution and reciprocal exchange)

in the list of offenses that (threaten to) incur mēnis

the source Agamemnon’s and Achilles’ grievance against each other bound up with the mēnis theme, here explicitly attached to Agamemnon

commentary on language of blame

Nestor’s conciliatory formula with both Agamemnon and Achilles as superior to the rest of the Achaeans in counsel and fighting, in the context of commentary on the relative status of Agamemnon and Achilles

Nestor adding other criteria besides seniority, in the context of commentary on the relative status of Agamemnon and Achilles

comment on the process of exchange and value of the terms proposed by Chryses as meeting the social approval of the whole group, as Mauss’ principles would require

in a list of passages exemplifying the complementary metrical distribution of eukhos and kudos

doubt that Agamemnon’s greater age commands more respect than Achilles’ genealogy, in the context of commentary on the relative status of Agamemnon and Achilles

commentary on the relative status of Agamemnon and Achilles, with Nestor (contra Agamemnon) considering Achilles’ divine birth as part of his status

commentary on the relative status of Agamemnon and Achilles, with Agamemnon’s being presented as superior because of his wider rule, but he seems to lack superior force or cunning (cp. myth of Zeus’ kingship)

Nestor’s call to Agamemnon to put an end to his mēnis, in the context of commentary on the relative status of Agamemnon and Achilles and who therefore has right to mēnis

The formula epea pteroenta serves two functions within the poem. On a purely imagistic level, the phrase evokes the swiftness, irrevocability, directness, and reciprocal nature of speech—the adjective affirms the basic notion in the noun. On the narrative level, as a synonymous phrase for muthos, this formulaic line can be used to introduce highly marked speeches. Only sixty-one of the poem's approximately six hundred speeches are described as "winged words," and this selectivity has real meaning (Martin 1993:30-31).

These sixty-one speeches share a common pragmatic speech situation: winged words are spoken by one person to one other—rarely to two—and the addressee is in close contact with the speaker, usually as a comrade-in-arms. More significantly, every speech called "winged words" constitutes one specific speech-act class: in the terminology of speech-act theory, all sixty-one are "directives"—every speech thus introduced is meant to make the listener do something. The underlying unity is not immediately apparent because diverse surface structures—direct imperatives, hints, statements of need, questions, narratives—can each perform the same illocutionary function in an appropriate context (Martin 1993:31-32).

Achilles' winged words upon recognizing Athena in Book 1 (1.201-5) illustrate this at once: the speech takes the form of an interrogative—"Why have you come, child of aegis-bearing Zeus? Is it to see the hubris of Agamemnon, son of Atreus?"—yet functions as a directive: Athena should perceive things the way Achilles does. Her reply confirms that she fully reads the illocutionary force of his words rather than responding as if they constituted an actual request for information. Because form and function can vary in the employment of directives, the individual speaker has opportunity to perform and to exercise expressive creativity (Martin 1993:32-33).

References

Martin, R. P. 1993. The Language of Heroes: Speech and Performance in the Iliad. Ithaca.

The formula "thus he spoke, and the old man feared and obeyed the muthos" (1.33) is one of the audience-response formulas the poet uses to emphasize the moment of persuasion. The same formula recurs at 24.571, where Priam obeys Achilles' muthos in identical terms (Khryses = 24.571, Priam) (Martin 1993:23).

Athena's warning to Achilles is referred to by the narrator as a muthos (1.221). The formula "nor did he disobey the muthos of Athena" (1.220-21) is another of the audience-response formulas the poet uses to emphasize the moment of persuasion (Martin 1993:23).

In his first intervention in the poem, Nestor uses the device of recalling the past in order to legitimate his claim on authority in the present: "But obey. You are both younger than I. Already I have been with men better than you and they never slighted me" (1.259-74). The act of recalling here focuses precisely on Nestor's ability to command: "And they understood my counsels and obeyed the muthos" (1.273). The ability to command—mastery of the first muthos genre—is enhanced when the speaker has the ability to foreground his own directives by retrojecting the act of command through another rhetorical genre, recollection. This latter genre, apart from commands and flyting, is the only other one to be labeled muthos (Martin 1993:79-80).

The master of the genre of memory is Nestor. What the Iliad seems to leave as a gap—having been shown the persuasive power of Nestor, based on his ability to remember and remind, an audience might expect him to be the one capable of convincing Achilles to rejoin the battle—is resolved by the fact that Odysseus takes on the job, and fails; Nestor succeeds, but with the wrong audience, Patroklos. The central trope in both these speeches is explicitly an act of memory. Odysseus says of Peleus' speech: "Thus the old man instructed, but you forget" (9.259). The same line recurs in Nestor's words to Patroklos (11.790). Nor is the strategy of dramatic memory limited to these two speakers: Phoinix, who stands in for Nestor in the embassy scene, uses a long discourse from memory as the centerpiece of his attempt to induce Achilles to return (9.527) (Martin 1993:80-81).

As a general rule, characters in the Iliad do not remember anything simply for the pleasure of memory. Recall has an exterior goal. Memory bestows a mantle on its practitioners: in recalling the words of Kalkhas, for example, Odysseus exhibits a seerlike ability to describe and interpret what is not present (Martin 1993:81). The crucial difference between the memory performance of Odysseus and that of Nestor has to do with the self-presentation of the speaker. Odysseus foregrounds himself as performer, explicitly quoting another authority whom he can be seen to overcome in the contest of speaking. Nestor, on the other hand, presents himself not as a speaker but as a heroic performer of both words and deeds. His narrative of personal experience is convincing because it calls for emulation, even challenge. It becomes the mainspring of memory that powers the entire second half of the poem's action (Martin 1993:82).

References

Martin, R. P. 1993. The Language of Heroes: Speech and Performance in the Iliad. Ithaca.

Athena's command to Achilles at 1.207-18 appears to be less the unfettered directive of a beneficent goddess and more a bargain struck among equals. The phrase "if you will obey" (1.207) takes on new resonance in the context of the distribution of muthos commands: Athena is a low-status divinity in this hierarchy, merely the messenger of Hera, and her rhetorical strategy relies on citing this higher authority (1.207-9). Her pronoun use slips into an authoritative plural at 1.214, "obey us," a phrase that, by raising the issue of persuasion again after only six lines, characterizes her lack of authority. She is portrayed through Homer's phrasing as more like a messenger of her father, announcing the motivation of Hera in the manner that Dream describes Zeus' motives in Book 2 (2.26-27). In this light, Achilles' reply to her muthos becomes more relevant to the situation: in commenting on the superior nature of obedience to the gods (1.217-18), he signals to Athena that he realizes her dilemma and will contribute to boosting her status by deigning to obey, at the price of being listened to later. The brief scene proceeds as if Achilles were the one demanding submission (Martin 1993:48-49).

For the comment on the comment on muthos as the ideal form of authoritative speech and Zeus' paradigm commands, see the comment on Iliad 8.5-27.

References

Martin, R. P. 1993. The Language of Heroes: Speech and Performance in the Iliad. Ithaca.

An important preliminary strike against Agamemnon as a speaker comes in the detail that he speaks against the wishes of his audience: "The other Achaeans all approved... but it did not please Agamemnon" (1.23-24). His threat to Khryses, that the scepter of the god will not do him any good should he return, turns out to have ironic appropriateness for Agamemnon himself when his own authority sinks. In contrast to Zeus, whose similar threat silences Hera at the end of Book 1 (1.566), Agamemnon's language works destruction, turning the priest to seek divine intervention with deadly effect (Martin 1993:62-63).

For the broader analysis of the hierarchy of muthos command and Agamemnon's rhetorical failings, see the comment on Iliad 4.336-421.

References

Martin, R. P. 1993. The Language of Heroes: Speech and Performance in the Iliad. Ithaca.

Nestor of Pylos enters the Iliad just when it seems all speech must fail, and his very first effort at persuasion succeeds. In a system that judges style by results, Nestor holds a preeminent place; this characteristic marks all his speech in the poem. The speech he makes on arrival is highly inventive in attempting to appease three separate audiences: the two flyting heroes and the Achaeans in camp. Moreover, the syntax and discourse structure of the speech enact, at a poetic level, the notion of mutual support aimed at in Nestor's words. Binary structures abound, presenting a rhetorical model for two-sidedness (Martin 1993:101-2):

"A great sorrow has come to Akhaia / There might rejoice Priam / and Priam's children / Other Trojans might be glad / if they hear of these two fighting / Who excel at counsel / and at fighting / Both are younger than me / I once consorted with better than you..."

Agamemnon's comment, that Nestor has spoken kata moiran, can be taken literally: the command to be reconciled is rigorously "proportionate" at the poetic level, down to the rhythm and structure of each verse, as it is at the rhetorical level, according praise and blame equally to Agamemnon and Achilles. Nestor resembles the perfect praise-poet in the ideology of the Indo-European tradition precisely because he enacts this equal distribution. The epithet "having sweet words," hēduepēs, with which he is introduced in the Iliad (1.248), has a long heritage in this tradition, and furthermore refers to divine speech within Greek archaic poetry (Martin 1993:102).

The application of gnomic precedents and the employment of recollection present two more features characteristic of Nestor in this speech and in all his performances. The two strategies, proverbs and recollections, are related, in that both require the formal presentation of "memory," one on the level of narrative, the other that of the phrase. And memory is active throughout Nestor's rhetoric at yet another level, that of praise: he is continually "memorializing" his audience, in a manner akin to the poet's. We find that the totality of his performances marks Nestor as a unique orator, a speaker whose rhetoric rests on eulogy. It is exactly his role as praise-poet—therefore, as one who practices the craft of the epic itself—that gains Nestor the most explicitly favorable depiction of any speaker in the poem (Martin 1993:102-9).

For the broader analysis of Nestor as master of the memory genre and his use of commands, see the comment on Iliad 1.259-274.

References

Martin, R. P. 1993. The Language of Heroes: Speech and Performance in the Iliad. Ithaca.

The poet characterizes Agamemnon deftly in his very first speech. The "hard muthos" (1.25) falls under the heading of "command," but the illocutionary force of the directive is clothed here in the diction of a threat: "Do not let me meet you lingering by the ships, old man . . . lest the god's staff and fillet not do you any good." Agamemnon has the option of making directives in a number of ways; that Homer chooses to give him this tonal range is a significant sign of style. Agamemnon's seemingly straightforward commands strike us as distinctive and even deficient, because Homer shows us Agamemnon basing his orders on a false dream (2.55-75), or constructing a plausible command to retreat under false pretenses (2.109-41), or even denying that he is giving a directive (4.286), all the while using his limited praise ability to do precisely that (Martin 1993:113-14).

The general resort to the language of neikos by Agamemnon betrays an uncertainty about his power at speech which, in circular fashion, only makes his rhetoric more nervous and deficient. A good indication of Agamemnon's lack of confidence in speech comes from Homer's deployment of the epithet "clear speaker," ligus agorētēs. The poet used it of Nestor; Thersites earns it in Odysseus' portrayal of him; but Agamemnon seems to say this as a way of explaining his own lack of forcefulness after hearing Achilles: "In a great crowd of men, how could anyone hear or speak? Even a clear speaker is hindered" (19.81-82) (Martin 1993:118).

For the broader analysis of Agamemnon's style across all speech genres, see the comment on Iliad 4.336-421.

References

Martin, R. P. 1993. The Language of Heroes: Speech and Performance in the Iliad. Ithaca.

The introduction of Achilles in the poem pinpoints the central quality of his commanding style. Achilles directs the Achaeans to ask a seer, priest, or dream-interpreter the cause of Apollo's anger (1.62-67); he authorizes speech by his command, and defends the speaker, Kalkhas. The plot unfolds because Achilles has taken the initiative to call an assembly, another indication of his respect for speech. In the course of Book 1 he relies on words rather than the sword to face down Agamemnon; casts down the scepter, a gesture of impatience with the degraded state of discourse; narrates his own story to Thetis; and even coaches her in techniques of argumentation to win him honor from Zeus. His style is open, communicative, adaptable (Martin 1993:138-39).

Achilles' commands are remarkable in that they seem to "negate" the notion of the speaker's authority to order. Achilles uses command to pass on that authority to others. In speech-act terms, one "felicity" condition for a directive—that the speaker be in a position to issue the order—is actually jeopardized by the directives themselves. This strategy fits with Achilles' preference for two-way communication between speaker and addressee, and the denial of command only increases respect for the hero who can risk such apparent undercutting: it is a sign of higher authority (Martin 1993:140).

For the broader analysis of Achilles' distinctive speech style, see the comment on Iliad 9.646-647.

References

Martin, R. P. 1993. The Language of Heroes: Speech and Performance in the Iliad. Ithaca.

The combination khrē men with which Achilles opens his reply to Odysseus in Book 9 (9.309) occurs only one other time in the Iliad: in Achilles' reply to Athena at 1.216-18. Just as Achilles meditates slaying Agamemnon and Athena intervenes, asking twice for him to be persuaded, Achilles makes the choice of words instead of deeds and affirms the theological correctness of his choice with a gnomic statement: "It is necessary (khrē men), goddess, to keep your word, even for one angered in spirit, since it is better--- the gods pay heed to the one who obeys them" (1.216-18). The particle men is never complemented explicitly by the expected de, but the string kai mala per in line 217 might substitute for this: in effect, Achilles says "I will obey (on the one hand) but I am still angry (on the other)." His immediate cessation of speech puts these words into action (Martin 1993:197-98).

The two speeches form a diptych: in Book 1, Achilles grants divine speech a privileged position; in Book 9, he draws attention to his own speech, which is, paradoxically, a denial of the possibility of persuasion. As in Book 1, the context in Book 9 is explicitly a battle of rhetoric, Achilles' word against that of Agamemnon. There is a strong hint that the young warrior deserves to be ranked with the oldest as both speaker and instructor of the niceties of speech (Martin 1993:198, 200-201).

For the khrē men opening of the Book 9 speech and its analytical implications, see the comment on Iliad 9.307-429.

References

Martin, R. P. 1993. The Language of Heroes: Speech and Performance in the Iliad. Ithaca.

As Thomson argues, the metaphor is for words as fletched arrows that fly straight to their mark. With this image can be contrasted the adjective ἁμαρτοεπής 'whose words miss the mark' of Il. 13.824. The same conception of words as missiles is implicit in the use of ἵημι in the sense of 'utter' (LSJ I.A.2, cf. Il. 3.221-2).

Thomson, J. A. K. “Winged Words.” The Classical Quarterly, vol. 30, no. 1, 1936, pp. 1–3.