Homer Iliad 20.199

ed. Robert Southey

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Iliad. Homer. ed. Robert Southey. London. 1847.

Sponsored by Tufts University.

Current edition Experimental

English (William Cowper, 1791, ed. Southey) (OCR draft) (English) (English (William Cowper, 1791, ed. Southey))

Provisional text from uncorrected OCR; expect errors.

Editions (1)
Ἰλιάς Perseus (Homer. Homeri Opera, Volumes 1-2. Monro, D. B. (David Binning), editor; Allen, Thomas W. (Thomas William), editor. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1908-1920.) — 20.199 focus
Translations (8)
Iliad Perseus (Homer. The Iliad, Volume 1-2. Murray, A. T. (Augustus Taber), translator. London: William Heinmann; New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1924-1925.) — 20.199 focus
Iliad Perseus (Homer. The Iliad of Homer, rendered into English prose for the use of those who cannot read the original. Butler, Samuel, 1835-1902, translator. London: Longmans, Green, and Co, 1898.) — 20.199 focus
English (Butler, rev. Nagy et al., 2020) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Butler, rev. Nagy et al., 2020)) — 20.199 focus
Then Aeneas answered, [200] “Son of Peleus! Do not hope to intimidate me with words [ epos plural] as if I were some child. 201 For I myself know clearly how to tell 202 reproaches [ kertomiai] and unseemly things. 203 We know each other’s lineage, we know each other’s parentage, 204 hearing the famed words [ epos plural] of mortal men. [205] But by sight you have never yet seen my parents, nor I yours. Men say that you are son to noble Peleus, and that your mother is Thetis, fair-haired daughter of the sea. I have noble Anchises for my father, and Aphrodite for my mother; [210] the parents of one or other of us shall this day mourn a son, for it will be more than silly talk that shall part us when the fight is over. Learn, then, my lineage if you will—and it is known to many.
English (William Cullen Bryant, 1870) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (William Cullen Bryant, 1870)) — 20.199 focus
English (Alexander Pope, 1720, ed. Watson, 1857) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Alexander Pope, 1720, ed. Watson, 1857)) — 20.199 focus
To this Anchises' son: ‘Such words employ
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‘To one that fears thee, some unwarlike boy;
‘Such we disdain; the best may be defied
‘With mean reproaches, and unmanly pride:
‘Unworthy the high race from which we came,
‘Proclaim'd so loudly by the voice of fame;
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‘Each from illustrious fathers draws his line;
‘Each goddess-born; half human, half divine.
‘Thetis' this day, or Venus' offspring dies,
‘And tears shall trickle from celestial eyes:
‘For when two heroes, thus deriv'd, contend,
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‘'Tis not in words the glorious strife can end.
‘If yet thou farther seek to learn my birth,
‘(A tale resounded through the spacious earth,)
‘Hear how the glorious origin we prove
‘From ancient Dardanus, the first from Jove:
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‘Dardania's walls he rais'd; for Ilion then
‘(The city since of many-languag'd men,)
‘Was not. The natives were content to till
‘The shady foot of Ida's fountful hill.
‘From Dardanus, great Erichthonius springs,
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‘The richest once of Asia's wealthy kings;
‘Three thousand mares his spacious pastures bred, 1
‘Three thousand foals beside their mothers fed.
‘Boreas, enamour'd of the sprightly train,
‘Conceal'd his godhead in a flowing mane,
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‘With voice dissembled to his loves he neigh'd,
‘And cours'd the dappled beauties o'er the mead:
‘Hence sprung twelve others of unrivall'd kind,
‘Swift as their mother mares and father wind.
‘These lightly skimming, when they swept the plain,
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‘Nor plied the grass, nor bent the tender grain;
‘And when along the level seas they flew,
‘Scarce on the surface curl'd the briny dew.
‘Such Erichthonius was: From him there came
‘The sacred Tros, of whom the Trojan name.
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‘Three sons renown'd adorn'd his nuptial bed,
‘Ilus, Assaracus, and Ganymed:
‘The matchless Ganymed, divinely fair,
‘Whom heaven, enamour'd, snatch'd to upper air,
‘To bear the cup of Jove: (ethereal guest,
280
‘The grace and glory of th' ambrosial feast.)
‘The two remaining sons the line divide:
‘First rose Laomedon from Ilus' side:
‘From him Tithonus, now in cares grown old,
‘And Priam, (blest with Hector, brave and bold;)
285
‘Clytius and Lampus, ever-honour'd pair;
‘And Hicetaon, thunderbolt of war.
‘From great Assaracus sprung Capys, he
‘Begat Anchises, and Anchises me,’ 2
English (Thomas Hobbes, 1667, ed. Molesworth 1843) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Thomas Hobbes, 1667, ed. Molesworth 1843)) — 20.199 focus
English (George Chapman, 1611, ed. Hooper 1857) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (George Chapman, 1611, ed. Hooper 1857)) — 20.199 focus
English (F. W. Newman, 1856) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (F. W. Newman, 1856)) — 20 focus

New Alexandria Commentaries

Douglas Frame

comment on the goal of the second to last segment of the poem, books 17-20, Achilles’ return to battle, and their relationship with the final segment

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comment on the Trojan Erichthonios in Homer in the context of discussing the Athenian Erichthonios (cult and connection with Athena)

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comparison of the diction of the passage of Tyro’s conceiving and giving birth in the Odyssey with this passage from the Iliad

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comparison of the diction of the passage of Tyro’s conceiving and giving birth in the Odyssey with this passage from the Iliad

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comparison of the diction of the passage of Tyro’s conceiving and giving birth in the Odyssey with this passage from the Iliad

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Gregory Nagy

By now Achilles has a new set of armor, and he is ready to fight the Trojans. But his first major opponent seems to be a distraction. At least, our initial impression may lead us to think that there is a distraction going on here. The first major opponent of Achilles in Iliad 20 is Aeneas, hero of epic traditions that eventually became absorbed into the Aeneid of Virgil. Is this hero, we may ask, a truly worthy opponent of Achilles? Are the epic traditions that figure this son of Aphrodite / Venus truly worthy of the epic that is the Homeric Iliad? Once we examine more closely the oldest Greek epic traditions of Aeneas, it will become clear that this hero is indeed a most important opponent of Achilles, in that he represents ancient Greek epic traditions that are different from and antithetical to the epic tradition that prevailed in the Homeric Iliad as we know it. Not only does Aeneas challenge Achilles: even the epic traditions that figure Aeneas will challenge the epic traditions that figure Achilles. To say it another way, Aeneas represents a proto-Aeneid that challenges the proto-Iliad of Achilles. What makes Aeneas and his Aeneid—or, better, Aeneids—such a formidable challenge to Achilles is the enormous political prestige of the epic tradition that backs up Aeneas. By virtue of being the son of Aphrodite/Venus, Aeneas possesses a genealogical and dynastic charisma that threatens to overshadow the purely epic charisma of his Iliadic opponent Achilles.

draft js image error“Venus preventing her son Aeneas from killing Helen of Troy,” Luca Ferrari, circa 1650. Luca Ferrari [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

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In this speech, Aeneas speaks to Achilles from the standpoint of an epic tradition that glorifies primarily Aeneas, not Achilles. At I.20.200, Aeneas uses the word epea ‘words’ in referring negatively to the earlier speech of Achilles, I.20.178–198, where Achilles had spoken from the standpoint of an epic tradition that glorified primarily Achilles. This word epea—pronounced as epē in prose—normally means simply ‘words’ when it is used inside of epic diction, but it can also mean ‘words of poetry’ when it is used outside of such diction in contexts referring to poetry, especially to epic poetry. In prose, this kind of usage leads to the explicit meaning of epē as ‘epic poetry’. And, exceptionally, such a meaning of epē can even occur within the diction of epic poetry itself. That is what seems to be happening in the context of I.20.200, where epea refers to the words of Achilles as if they were the ‘poetic words’ of epic—that is, as if these words were the equivalent of epic itself. Do not try to intimidate me, Aeneas says to Achilles at I.20.200–201, by telling epea ‘words’ about past epic events like our mutual encounter in the highlands of Mount Ida and beyond. Yes, some epics will glorify you, but there are other epics that will glorify me instead. See further in the comment below on I.20.248–250. By implication, Aeneas is saying here that he has access to a different though related version of epic events, and that such a version will glorify him at the expense of Achilles. In fact, the entire speech of Aeneas at I.20.200–258 is a glorification of this hero by way of an epic tradition that is different from though related to the tradition that glorifies Achilles. This different tradition, as Aeneas goes on to demonstrate, glorifies primarily Aeneas himself. Meanwhile, the poetic implications of the word epea as ‘epic’ now become more explicit at I.20.203–205. Aeneas says here that he and Achilles know stories about each other not because they have been eyewitnesses to these stories, I.20.205, but because they both have heard, as other listeners have also heard, the epea that are the stories, and these epea are pro-kluta ‘glorious’, I.20.204. In this context, then, the word epea comes close to meaning ‘epics’, since the idea of pro-kluta as poetically ‘glorious’ is linked with the etymology of this adjective as ‘prominently heard’, just as the idea of kleos as a poetic kind of ‘glory’ is linked with the etymology of this noun as ‘the thing that is heard’. See the comment on I.02.484–487. Also relevant to the sense of epea as ‘words of poetry’ is the mutual negativity of the rivalry that is ongoing here between the two different epic traditions about Aeneas and Achilles. For example, there is an insulting reference that Aeneas makes at I.20.211 to the epea as recounted by Achilles about Aeneas. Those epea or ‘words of poetry’, as a veritable ‘epic’ told by Achilles, were certainly negative about Aeneas, just as Aeneas is now speaking negatively about Achilles and about that hero’s role in those same epea. Such mutual negativity is expressed by way of using words of blame poetry as contained within the epic, even though epic sees itself as a form of poetry that engages primarily in words of praise. The negativity of blame poetry is actually signaled in the words of Aeneas at I.20.251, who uses the noun neikea, plural of neikos ‘quarrel’, in referring to the mutual negativity that the two heroes express in their speeches to and about each other. See further in the comment on I.20.244–256.

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Erikhthonios, son of Dardanos, is figured here at I.20.215–219 as a kind of proto-Trojan king who was an ancestor of Aeneas. The name of this foundational king Erikhthonios, I.20.219, converges with the name of a foundational king of Athens, as we will see in the comment on I.20.230–241. Such a convergence signals an Athenian connection with the Ionian ownership, as it were, of epic traditions about Aeneas. On Athenians as would-be representatives of Ionian cultural heritage, see Point 2 in the anchor comment at I.20.209 about Aeneas the Ionian.

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As we learned previously from I.20.215–219, the foundational proto-Trojan king named Erikhthonios was fathered by an even earlier proto-Trojan king named Dardanos. The narrative of the genealogical succession now continues at I.20.231–241: Erikhthonios fathers Trōs, whose name means ‘Trojan’; so, from here on, the succession of kings is no longer proto-Trojan but Trojan; then Trōs fathers Ilos and Assarakos; then Ilos—whose name presupposes the alternative name of Troy, Ilion—fathers Laomedon who fathers Priam, but Assarakos fathers Kapys who fathers Anchises; finally, Priam fathers Hector but Anchises fathers Aeneas. There is a match here in the chronological sequencing for the king Erikhthonios of Troy and for the king Erikhthonios of Athens. The Athenian king Erikhthonios was a differentiated mythological by-form of another Athenian king, Erekhtheus. Such a differentiation can probably be dated as far back as the late seventh century BCE, when the Athenians gained control of Sigeion, a city that now became their very own new Troy. See Point 2 in the anchor comment at I.20.209 about Aeneas the Ionian, part 1. What resulted from this differentiation was a set of two different kings located in two different zones of time within the genealogical sequence of Athenian kings. The earlier location of Erikhthonios in this Athenian genealogy matches chronologically the location of Erikhthonios in the Trojan genealogy that culminates in Aeneas. According to the Parian Marble (FGH 239 section 23), Troy was conquered in 1209/8 BCE, and that event would have happened roughly three centuries after an event that coincides with the era of the Athenian king Erikhthonios: according to the Parian Marble (FGH 239 section 10), the Athenians claimed that Erikhthonios was the inventor of the four-horse chariot for the occasion of the first chariot race held at the first Panathenaic festival in 1505/4 BCE. So, the differentiation of the Athenian Erekhtheus into an earlier Erikhthonios and a later Erekhtheus made it possible to connect more easily the Athenian Erikhthonios with the Trojan Erikhthonios, ancestor of Aeneas. This way, the prestige of the Trojan genealogy, culminating in the dynastic figure of the epic hero Aeneas, could be appropriated into the Athenian genealogy of kings. A signal of such an Athenian appropriation in the Iliad is a pointed reference at I.05.271 to four chariot-horses owned by Anchises, father of Aeneas, to be complemented by two chariot-horses owned by Aeneas himself. I.05.272. The narrative introduces these two sets of chariot-horses by revealing at I.05.263–270 that Anchises secretly bred six horses from the original set of chariot-horses given by Zeus to Trōs in compensation for the abduction of the king’s son, Ganymede; of these six, he kept four for himself and gave two to Aeneas, I.05.271–272. As we have already learned from the Parian Marble (FGH 239 section 10), the Athenians claimed that Erikhthonios was the inventor of the four-horse chariot for the occasion of the first chariot race held at the first Panathenaic festival in 1505/4 BCE. So, the Iliadic reference to the four-horse chariot team of Anchises is an implicit Athenian signature. To be contrasted are the two-horse chariot teams used by almost all warriors—including Aeneas himself, I.05.270–272—for fighting battles in the Trojan War. An exception is the four-horse chariot team used by Hector, I.08.185. He too, like Aeneas, is a descendant of Dardanos, I.20.240. So here again we see the makings of an implicit Athenian signature.

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the same verse as used when Eos abducts Kleitos in O.15.251

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See anchor comment at I.12.188.

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In boasting about his own genealogy, the hero Aeneas started the boast by signaling it with the verb eukhesthai ‘declare’ at I.20.209, thus making a most definitive epic statement of identity. Now that the genealogy is completed at I.20.241, the verb eukhesthai ‘declare’ recurs, indicating by way of ring-composition the simultaneous completion of the boast. For more on the semantics of boasting as signaled by eukhesthai ‘declare’, see Muellner 1976.

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As noted in the general comment on I.20.200–258, Aeneas uses the noun neikea, plural of neikos ‘quarrel’, in referring to the mutual negativity that he and Achilles are expressing in their speeches to and about each other. Also used in the same context is the verb neikeîn ‘quarrel with’ at I.20.252 and I.20.254. On the noun neikos ‘quarrel’ and the verb neikeîn ‘quarrel with’ as programmatic markers of blame poetry, see especially the comments on I.02.221, I.03.059, I.03.100, I.10.249–253. Yet another word that is used in the same context here at I.20.244–256 is the noun oneidea, plural of oneidos ‘words of insult’, at I.20.244. On this word, see the comments on I.02.222.

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The word epea is used here at I.20.249 to mean not only ‘words’ but also, more specifically, ‘words of poetry’, such as the words of epic. The words of poetry are spoken here in an act of boasting—which is framed within the act of performing epic. See the general comment on I.20.200–258; see also the earlier comment on I.12.387–391. Here at I.20.248–250, Aeneas is cautioning Achilles about the variability of epea as ‘poetic words’. There is a wide range of different ways of saying different things. Different epics, Aeneas is saying in effect, can have different truth-values in different places. What is said in a positive sense at one place may be said in a negative sense at another place. That is the nature of mūthoi, I.20.248, which are ‘wordings spoken for the record’. For more on the Homeric sense of this word mūthos as ‘wording spoken for the record’, see the comment at I.19.084–085. As I noted in that comment, any wording that is called a mūthos by the Master Narrator himself in the act of actually quoting the words of the wording will have the prestige of reality—to the extent that the listeners were actually expected to accept the idea that such wording had once upon a time been really spoken exactly as quoted by Homer himself. In the context of I.20.248–250 here, however, it becomes clear that there were in fact different regional versions of epics as quoted, as it were, by Homer. As Aeneas says at I.20.248–249, there is no single mūthos in the sense that there is no single way of wording a story for the record: rather, there are many ways of wording a story, and so there are many mūthoi to be heard by listeners, not just one. And, to repeat, there is a wide range of different ways of saying different things. As Aeneas says it, I.20.249, the nomós or ‘range’ of epea as ‘words of poetry’ is vast, varying from place to place. The choice of wording here is most evocative: the word nomós can mean literally ‘range of lands used for pasturing’, as at I.02.475, and the metaphorical application here to the wide range of epics about Aeneas and Achilles may evoke a pastoral scene of a cattle-raid in the highlands of Mount Ida, where Achilles was once upon a time rustling the cattle that were pastured there by Aeneas. Such a pastoral scene is signaled in the story as told by Aeneas at I.20.089–102: he was pasturing his cattle in the highlands of Mount Ida, and Achilles evidently caught him off guard in a cattle-raid, I.20.090–091. See the comment on I.20.089–102.

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In the short-term logic of the narrative here about the one-on-one battle between Aeneas and Achilles, I.20.290–352, it becomes certain that Aeneas will lose the battle and be killed by Achilles, I.20.290. But now, most abruptly, this short-term certainty is contradicted by a long-term certainty, which is, that Aeneas must not be killed by Achilles. It simply cannot happen. And the divine agent of this long-term certainty is the god Poseidon, who notices what is happening short-term and will now intervene directly, I.20.291, in order to insure the long-term certainty that Aeneas must not be killed in this battle-scene. As Poseidon declares to his fellow divinities before he takes action, it is morimon ‘destined’ that Aeneas must avoid being killed by Achilles at this epic moment, I.20.302, since Aeneas as a descendant of Dardanos must not die without having further descendants of his own, I.20.303–306, and these descendants may then continue to rule over the Trojans even after Troy is completely destroyed, I.20.307–308. So, there is an eternity that is destined for the genes, as it were, of Aeneas, as I noted already in the anchor comment at I.20.209, since this hero’s descendants will have eternal rule over the Trojans. But this rule, says Poseidon, will not be in Troy, since both Hērā and Athena have committed themselves by oath to the complete destruction of that city, I.20.313–317. Having made these declarations, Poseidon now takes action. What happens right away is that Aeneas is literally lifted into the air by the power of the god, I.20.325, who spirits him off to a safe place that is removed from the battle scene, I.20.328–329. Once Aeneas is safe, Poseidon appears to him and declares that it would have been huper moiran ‘beyond fate [moira]’ for this hero to die at this epic moment, I.20.336. And, while Poseidon is taking action by rescuing Aeneas, he simultaneously beclouds the vision of Achilles, I.20.321–322, so that this hero cannot get to see the actual rescue of his opponent. Achilles is literally in the dark here. Then, after the rescue, the vision of Achilles is restored, I.20.341–342, and he now comprehends that some god must have arranged the escape of Aeneas, I.20.342–350. It is significant, however, that Achilles does not know the identity of the god who rescued Aeneas. Similarly, Achilles did not know the exact identity of the god who rescued Aeneas from the city of Lyrnessos, where that hero had once upon a time taken refuge from the pursuing Achilles. As I noted in the comment on I.20.187–194, the wording of Achilles is ostentatiously vague when he refers at I.20.194 to the action of ‘Zeus and the other gods’ in helping Aeneas escape from the besieged city of Lyrnessos before it was destroyed by Achilles. By contrast, the wording of Achilles is clear when he refers at I.20.192 to the action of Zeus and Athena together in helping him destroy Lyrnessos. I propose, then, that Achilles was kept in the dark about the agency of the god or goddess who helped Aeneas escape from Lyrnessos before it was destroyed, just as he is now being kept in the dark about the agency of Poseidon. Further, just as Achilles at I.20.194 is complaining about the divine help given to Aeneas, so also Aeneas at I.20.097–102 complains about the divine help given to Achilles—and there the one divinity who is singled out as that hero’s greatest divine helper is Athena, I.20.094–096. The implication of this complaint by Aeneas is that Athena gives to Achilles an unfair advantage, and that the two heroes would be evenly matched if Athena were taken out of the picture. Ironically, Athena is in fact out of the picture in the one-on-one battle between Aeneas and Achilles, and the only god who intervenes in this battle is Poseidon, who helps not Achilles but Aeneas. But, even with the help of Poseidon, Aeneas does not win the one-on-one battle. He succeeds only in escaping death at the hands of Achilles.

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Leonard Muellner

in a list of attestations of genos eukhesthai einai and its transformations

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Richard Martin

Aeneas' words at 20.246-50 show that muthoi are the large units and epea the small. "Insults" (oneidea) are figured as weighty, tangible goods: "We both have insults to speak formally (muthēsasthai), many of them, nor could a ship with a hundred benches bear the load." The image of "heavy" speech that Aeneas applies to insults extends to muthoi as a whole. Contrast this with the image of the "pasturage" of epea: unlike muthoi, which can be characterized individually (pantoioi, "of all types"), epea travel about here and there in a wide field. Epea are moreover like small objects that can be batted to and fro, part of a general system of exchange: "Whatever epos you say, you hear in return." (Martin 1993:17).

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