Iliad. Homer. ed. Robert Southey. London. 1847.
Sponsored by Tufts University.
Iliad. Homer. ed. Robert Southey. London. 1847.
Sponsored by Tufts University.
English (William Cowper, 1791, ed. Southey) (OCR draft) (English) (English (William Cowper, 1791, ed. Southey))
Provisional text from uncorrected OCR; expect errors.
Iliad
comment on the collocation ornuthi laous (as in this verse) and the name Orsilaos in the context of analyzing the meaning of Menelaos
The time has come for Achilles to re-enter the war against the Trojans. For this to happen, Agamemnon must first settle with Achilles. But the over-king feels the need to say more than simply to formulate his proposed terms of settlement. His aim is to excuse himself from responsibility for dishonoring Achilles, and the story that he tells in order to achieve this aim is a retelling of a cosmic atē ‘aberration’ that resulted in the Labors of Hēraklēs. Such a retelling, however, is destined to backfire: it will result in further damage to Agamemnon’s own royal status and in further advancement for the heroic prestige of Achilles, for whom Hēraklēs now becomes a perfect model.
Herakles at the tree of the Hesperides, holding three of the golden apples in his left hand. Behind him is the apple tree with the guardian serpent clinging around it.
Bronze, 104.5cm (Roman, 1st century C.E.).
Image via The British Museum.
In seeking to settle his quarrel with Achilles, Agamemnon claims that he was not aitios ‘responsible’, I.19.086. Rather it was atē ‘aberration’ or ‘derangement’ that made him ‘act deranged’, aâsthai, I.19.091. This word aâsthai, which can be translated more literally as ‘veer off-course’, functions here as the verb for the noun atē, which can be translated correspondingly as ‘veering off-course’. In what follows, I can even translate the noun atē simply as ‘mistake’ and the verb aâsthai as ‘making a mistake’. In the verses that are being covered in this general comment, here are the occurrences of aâsthai in the sense of ‘make a mistake’ and functioning as the verb that matches the noun atē: I.19.091, I.19.095, I.19.113, I.19.129, I.19.136, I.19.137. In juridical terms, atē can refer either to a mistake that you made or to the damages that you have to pay to remedy that mistake. The mistake is the cause of the damages, and the damages are the effect of the mistake. And, since atē can refer either to the cause or to the effect of the mistake, it can be personified as a malevolent goddess Atē who presides over the whole process of cause-and-effect. That is why Agamemnon can say that I am not aitios ‘responsible’, but Zeus and his entire divine apparatus are responsible, since they inflicted on me the goddess Atē. In effect, the goddess Atē made me do it. In the verses that are being covered in this general comment, here are the occurrences of atē/Atē: Ι.19.088, Ι.19.091, Ι.19.126, Ι.19.129, I.19.136. Agamemnon has more to say about the personified Atē: this goddess had once upon a time caused even Zeus himself to make a big mistake. That mistake resulted in the epic traditions about Hēraklēs, to be analyzed in the comment on I.19.95–133. But, happily for the gods, Atē no longer lives in Olympus: she was thrown out of there by Zeus for having caused him to make a mistake, and she landed on Earth, where she could now cause trouble only for us humans. We are the ones who make mistakes, while the Olympians no longer make mistakes—now that Atē cannot go back to Olympus. I see at work here a theological fact of life: in the age of myth, gods used to make mistakes, but not today in the age of ritual.
The epic narrative about Hēraklēs, as retold here by Agamemnon, would never have happened if Zeus had not made a mistake, as indicated by the verb aâsthai ‘make a mistake’ at I.19.095, also at I.19.113. This verb, as I noted in the comment on the overall passage, I.19.076–138, corresponds to the noun atē, which I originally translated there as ‘aberration’. To say it more formally, then: the epic narrative about Hēraklēs resulted from an aberration on the part of Zeus, who was deceived by his divine wife Hērā. Call it what you will, Zeus made a big mistake. He inadvertently allowed it to happen that Hērā, who is normally the goddess in charge of perfect timing in the cosmos, threw off the timing for the birth of Hēraklēs, so that the hero’s cousin Eurystheus was born earlier and thus became king instead of Hēraklēs. Even though Hēraklēs was by far superior as a hero, he was now by birth forever socially inferior to Eurystheus, and throughout his life he was obliged to undertake seemingly impossible tasks that were imposed on him by his malevolent cousin. But Hēraklēs prevailed in performing these tasks, which became the famed Labors of Hēraklēs, as indicated by the programmatic word aethloi ‘labors’ at I.19.133, and these Labors conferred on Hēraklēs a poetic kleos ‘glory’ that became the epic tradition of Hēraklēs. It is these same epic traditions that Agamemnon is now retelling. This retelling, it must be added, is subversive. In the very act of retelling the epic narrative about Hēraklēs, Agamemnon is inadvertently undermining his own status: just as Eurystheus was socially superior but heroically inferior to Hēraklēs, so also Agamemnon is socially superior but heroically inferior to Achilles. One big question still remains about this whole epic narrative: why is the name of Hēraklēs connected to the name of Hērā, who was the direct cause of the the social inferiority experienced by the hero? Why does the “speaking name” (nomen loquens) of Hēraklēs have the meaning ‘he who has the glory [kleos] of Hērā’? The answer is evident: if it had not been for the intervention of Hērā, Hēraklēs would never have had to perform his Labors, and, if it had not been for these Labors, he would never have won the kleos or poetic ‘glory’ that was his to keep forever. We see here the positive side of myths about antagonism between immortal and mortal, divinity and hero.
Having finished at I.19.134 with the retelling of the epic narrative about Hēraklēs, Agamemnon now comes back to his admission that it was atē for him to dishonor Achilles, I.19.136. This word, as we have seen, can be translated as ‘aberration’ or ‘derangement’ or even simply ‘mistake’. In the present context, the noun atē is paired twice with the verb aâsthai, at both I.19.136 and I.19.137, and I translate this verb here simply as ‘make a mistake’. Agamemnon then declares his readiness to pay apoina ‘compensation’, I.19.138. This gesture brings us back to I.09.115, where Agamemnon had already admitted his atai ‘aberrations’ in dishonoring Achilles, adding at I.09.120 that he was ready to pay apoina ‘compensation’ for these aberrations. See the comment on I.09.115–120.
Agamemnon here refers to his unnamed attendants as therapontes.
This epithet theoeikelos ‘looking like a god’ occurs only two times in the Iliad. Besides the occurrence here, I.19.155, we see it also at I.01.131. In both cases, the referent is Achilles. In Song 44 of Sappho, “The Wedding of Hector and Andromache,” the same epithet theoeikeloi ‘looking like gods’ occurs in the plural at line 34 (θεοεικέλο[ις]), applying to Hector and Andromache together. The act of comparing humans to divinities is a conventional trope in the ritual context of weddings, and so the application of the epithet theoeikeloi ‘looking like gods’ to Hector and Andromache on the happy occasion of their wedding is perfectly understandable. Most commonly, the bride is equated with Aphrodite and the bridegroom, with Ares. See the comment on I.18.492 (also H24H 4§§14–21). But there may be an irony in the application of the same epithet theoeikelos ‘looking like a god’ to Achilles in the Iliad, since this hero tragically dies before he can ever get married (H24H 5§§98–102, 110–114). Conversely, there may also be an irony in the application of theoeikeloi ‘looking like gods’ to Hector and Andromache in Song 44 of Sappho, since the lives of this couple, once happy, will now tragically be ruined by Achilles in his role as the bridegroom that never was: he will kill Hector and make Andromache a widow. This is not to say that the use of the epithet theoeikeloi ‘looking like gods’ in Sappho Song 44.34 evokes the Iliad as we have it. The evocation may center on a local epic tradition that was current in the Aeolic song culture of Lesbos. The doomed triad of bride and bridegroom and killer of bridegroom was surely involved in such a local tradition as well. Another sign of such a free-standing Iliadic tradition originating from a distinctively Aeolian song culture is the occurrence of the expression kleos aphthiton ‘imperishable glory [kleos]’ in the same song, Sappho 44.5. This expression corresponds exactly to the expression we find in the Iliad, kleos aphthiton ‘imperishable glory [kleos]’, as spoken by Achilles himself about his own poetic glory at I.09.413. The two matching expressions, in Song 44 of Sappho and in Iliad 9, are cognate with each other both in wording and in metrical positioning. See the comment on I.09.413. So, the doomed triad of bride and bridegroom and killer of bridegroom are not only part of comparable stories about the different kinds of doom that await each one of the three: they are also part of two comparable media, both of which are meant to make eternal the poetic ‘glory’ or kleos of all three. One of these two media has just barely survived, in Song 44 of Sappho. The other of the two, by contrast, became the definitive form of epic, as represented by the Homeric Iliad.
The wording of Odysseus here refers to the special relationship of Achilles to the dais ‘feast’, I.19.179, as a ‘division’ of meat that needs to be equitable. See the comment on I.01.468 with regard to expressions like δαιτὸς ἐίσης ‘equitable dais’, referring to an ‘equitable’ (adjective isos/isē) division of meat on the occasion of a feast; see also the comments on I.04.048, I.07.319–322, I.08.228–235, I.09.225-228, I.19.044. In the present context, this kind of equitability is drawn into a parallel with the noun dikē in the sense of a ‘judgment’, I.19.180. Such ‘judgment’ likewise needs to be equitable. And for a ‘judgment’ to become so equitable, it can become idealized as absolute ‘justice’.
The use of this word moira in the sense of ‘portion; fate, destiny’ is relevant to the need felt by Achilles to get his equitable share. See the comment on I.03.059.
analysis of Agamemnon’s apology to Achilles in the context of the exchange process in I.19, where the compensation to Achilles is placed in the middle and thus is a distribution by the group, not a gift from Agamemnon
analysis of Agamemnon’s apology to Achilles in the context of the exchange process in I.19, where the compensation to Achilles is placed in the middle and thus is a distribution by the group, not a gift from Agamemnon, and here, Achilles’ addressing Agamemnon in the second person although Agamemnon speaks of him in the third person in this scene
analysis of Achilles’ reintegration and solidarity with the Achaeans, and his use of the third person of himself at this point as in his speech at the beginning of his withdrawal (I.01.240-241)
analysis of Achilles’ compensation as not a gift from Agamemnon but a distribution from the group
analysis of the application of ilaos (and cognates) to gods (and heroes) with mēnis, here Achilles
analysis of Agamemnon’s apology to Achilles in the context of the exchange process in I.19, where the compensation to Achilles is placed in the middle and thus is a distribution by the group, not a gift from Agamemnon, and here, Agamemnon’s addressing Achilles in the third person throughout
Achilles' speech upon his return to battle at 19.146-53 uses both conventional and unconventional strategies of memory. He uses the formulaic mnēsōmetha kharmēs ("Let us be mindful of the battle"), then shifts in the same short speech to a more direct address: "In this way let any one of you, remembering, fight a man (memnēmenos andri makhesthō)." In the mechanics of the verb of remembering, memory is the mechanism for affirming social bonds and challenging the listener to uphold them, even when there is no overt lexical reference to a specific recalled event. Furthermore, Achilles' refusal of food in reply to Odysseus' elaborate speech on the necessity of eating (19.155-83) represents his overcoming of Odysseus by taking over his opponent's rhetorical strategy while refusing to acknowledge his presence: Odysseus had spoken of hunger; so does Achilles, but he turns it into a metaphor for his desire to avenge Patroklos' death (Martin 1993:64-65, 79).
For the broader analysis of memory as a muthos genre, see the comment on Iliad 1.259-274.
Martin, R. P. 1993. The Language of Heroes: Speech and Performance in the Iliad. Ithaca.
When we categorize each of Agamemnon's forty-six speeches according to its genre of discourse, only one originates primarily as a discourse of memory. This speech (19.91-133) remains a highly ambiguous recollection, not of personal heroism (unlike Nestor's) but of a story about Atē's influence over Zeus during the time of Herakles' birth, and it is told not to persuade his audience (again compare Nestor's recollections) but to excuse himself. Even then, the story seems ironically to put Agamemnon in a bad light, as many have noticed. Instead of the authority of memory, Agamemnon more often than not employs the threat of violence to achieve his way (Martin 1993:113-14).
It is even more ironic that the story Agamemnon recounts in Book 19 begins with Hera's determination to frustrate the public performance of Zeus: "You will speak falsely nor will you bring completion to the muthos" (19.107). Agamemnon has the same problem with bringing his muthoi to fruition. A further reference to this topic in Achilles' ostensibly commendatory speech during the funeral may be a concealed insult: he calls on Agamemnon to give the simple order for dispersal, "For the troop of Achaeans will most obey you and your muthoi" (23.156-57)—an assertion thus far not proven in the Iliad (Martin 1993:117).
For the broader analysis of Agamemnon's style, see the comment on Iliad 4.336-421.
Martin, R. P. 1993. The Language of Heroes: Speech and Performance in the Iliad. Ithaca.