comment on the phrase thēlus eousa in connection with Agamemnon, at I.23 regarding his mare and I.19 regarding Hera in her deception of Zeus

The goddess of dawn, Ēōs, is pictured here as emerging from the streams of the cosmic river Ōkeanos at sunrise. The dawn emerges just as the sun itself is pictured as emerging from the Ōkeanos at every sunrise after having submerged into it at every sunset. See the comments on I.07.421–423 and I.08.485–486.

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.

The goddess Thetis proceeds to bring for Achilles the armor that was made for him by the god Hephaistos, I.19.003, and she finds the hero embracing the body of Patroklos and weeping over it, mourning together with all his fellow warriors, the Myrmidons, I.19.004–006; she now makes a formal presentation of the armor to Achilles, I.19.007–013. At the sight of this armor, all the Myrmidons recoil: no one can bear to look at the divine work of art, I.19.014–015—no one, that is, except for Achilles, who now looks directly at the Shield, I.19.015–017, and whose eyes, as he is looking, now give off a terrifying selas ‘flash of light’, I.19.017. The first time we saw this word selas in the Iliad was at I.08.076, where it referred to the lightning that comes from Zeus as he thunders from on high on the top of Mount Ida—and this flash of light brings holy terror for the Achaeans, I.08.076–077. See the comment on I.08.066–077. There is a comparable reference at I.17.739 to the selas ‘flash of light’ in a thunderstorm. See the comment on I.17.736–741. Other evocative occurrences of selas ‘flash of light’ include the references at I.08.509 and at I.08.563 to the threatening fires of the Trojans. And we see yet again this powerful word in the context of I.15.599–600: it is said there that Zeus has been waiting to see with his own divine eyes the selas ‘flash of light’, I.15.600, that will appear when the first of the beached Achaean ships is set on fire. Once this divine vision is visualized, the Will of Zeus will have been fulfilled. Thus this word selas ‘flash of light’ signals the driving force of the whole epic, which is the Will of Zeus. See the comment on I.15.592–602. Another powerful moment where the Will of Zeus manifests itself as a selas ‘flash of light’ happens at I.18.214, where this word refers to the fire that bursts from the head of the enraged Achilles. See the comment on I.18.214. With regard to I.15.599–600, I also note a coextensiveness between the selas ‘flash of light’ at I.15.600 and the terrifying look of Zeus. I deliberately use the word look here because, unlike other English words for the act of seeing, the verb look and the noun look or looks can refer to a stream of vision not only as it comes into the eye but also as it goes out of it. Zeus can look at the terrifying flash of light when the beached ship of Protesilaos is set on fire, but that look of his can translate into the terrifying flash of light that comes out of his own eye in the act of his casting his thunderbolt. Zeus hurls his thunderbolt by casting his eye on the target: see the comment on I.13.242–244. I see a comparable pattern of coextensiveness here at I.19.015–017: the selas ‘flash of light’ at I.19.017 that comes from the terrifying look of Achilles as he looks at the Shield will translate into a flash of light that comes from the Shield itself: only Achilles dares to look at it, while the other Myrmidons shrink back in terror, avoiding the gaze.

This detail about Achilles as the only hero who can look at the selas ‘flash of light’ streaming from his Shield, I.19.017, is relevant to a myth about the blinding of Homer. I epitomize here from my analysis in Nagy 2016.02.18§§11–12 (via HPC 256–257n13). In the Life of Homer traditions, Vita 6 (see the inventory of Words and Ideas), there is a myth that explains the blinding of Homer as the result of a mistake he made. He conjured the poetic vision of Achilles wearing the new set of bronze armor that the divine smith Hephaistos had made for him. Here is my translation of the text (Vita 6.46–50): ‘Visiting the tomb of Achilles, he [= Homer] prayed if he could only see the hero just the way the hero was like at the moment of entering the field of battle while wearing his second set of armor. The hero then appeared to him, and, as soon as Homer looked at the hero, he was blinded by the gleam [augē] of the armor’ (ἐλθόντα γὰρ ἐπὶ τὸν Ἀχιλλέως τάφον εὔξασθαι θεάσασθαι τὸν ἥρωα τοιοῦτον ὁποῖος προῆλθεν ἐπὶ τὴν μάχην τοῖς δευτέροις ὅπλοις κεκοσμημένος· ὀφθέντος δ’ αὐτῷ τοῦ Ἀχιλλέως τυφλωθῆναι τὸν Ὅμηρον ὑπὸ τῆς τῶν ὅπλων αὐγῆς). This heroic moment, when Achilles finally returns to the field of battle, is what we have just read at I.19.014–017, where it is said that the gleam emanating from the new bronze armor of Achilles was so blindingly bright that none of his fellow warriors could even look directly at it. It is this gleam that blinds Homer himself, who is imagined as the only poet in the whole world who could conjure such a blinding vision in his own poetry.

This epithet, applied generically to warriors killed in war, is relevant to their relationship with Ares as god of war.

This reference made by Achilles to workers whose work it is to divide meat at feasts is relevant to the special links of this hero to the concept of dais ‘feast’ in its basic sense of ‘division (of meat)’.

In contexts where the dual theraponte in combination with Arēos ‘of Ares’ is applied to the Achaeans=Danaans=Argives (here, to the pair of Diomedes and Odysseus) as a grouping of warriors, the deeper meaning is more evident than in other contexts.

In this speech of Achilles, he himself refers to his mēnis ‘anger’ by way of the verb apomēniein at I.19.062 (ἀπομηνίσαντος). This anger has been the main theme of the Iliad ever since I.01.001, and Achilles now expresses regret over the many deaths that resulted for his Achaean companions. The speech of the hero here contains also other words that are relevant to mēnis: of special interest are meneainein ‘get angry’ at I.19.058 (μενεήναμεν) and mimnēskein ‘mentally connect, remind’ at I.19.064 (μνήσεσθαι). Both of these words convey a sense of mental reciprocity in the feelings of anger as experienced by both heroes. See the comments on I.01.207 and I.01.247. See also BA 73 and 312. In the present speech, Achilles goes so far as to regret that he and Agamemnon quarreled over Briseis. If only she had died, he says at I.19.059–060, on the day when he captured her after he conquered the city of Lyrnessos. But Achilles stops short of saying that he regrets having conquered Lyrnessos.

In referring to Briseis here, the words of Achilles briefly retell the story about his conquest of Lyrnessos and his capture of Briseis. I refer here again to my three anchor comments about Aeolian women in the Iliad. See also anchor comment at I.02.689–694 on: Aeolian women in the Iliad, part 1; anchor comment at I.09.128–131 and at I.09.270–272 on: Aeolian women in the Iliad, part 2; and anchor comment at I.11.624–627 on: Aeolian women in the Iliad, part 3.

The mēnis ‘anger’ of Achilles has now finally been ‘un-said’ by the hero, as expressed by the verb apo-eipeîn, I.19.075. The response of the Achaeans as an aggregate is a collective feeling of joy, as expressed by the root khar- of the verb khairein in the sense of ‘rejoice’. By contrast, while the mēnis ‘anger’ was still ongoing, the Achaeans had collectively felt grief, as expressed by the root akh- of the verb akhnusthai ‘feel grief’ and of the noun akhos ‘grief’. See especially the comments on I.01.188 and on I.01.509. Such a semantic contrast between collective joy and collective grief is re-enacted in names like Khari-lā(u̯)os and Akhi-lāu̯os. The second of these two names is my reconstruction of an older form of the name Akhil(l)leús*: see the comment on I.01.002. (BA 77, 79; also 65).

The following is epitomized from H24H 1§36. Agamemnon, who is the high king among all the kings of the Achaean warriors participating in the war at Troy, is speaking here in a public assembly of the Achaeans. Strangely, he speaks to his fellow warriors while remaining in a seated position, I.19.077, saying that it is a good thing to listen to a man who speaks in a standing position and that it is hard for even a good speaker to hupoballein (ὑββάλλειν) him, I.19.080. So, what does this mean? Achilles had just spoken to the assembly at verses I.19.056–073, and it is made explicit at I.19.055 that he was standing. In the Greek-English dictionary of Liddell, Scott, and Jones (LSJ), hupoballein is interpreted as ‘interrupt’ in the context of I.19.080 here. A related context is the adverb hupoblēdēn (ὑποβλήδην) at I.01. 292, where Achilles is responding to Agamemnon in the course of their famous quarrel. Some translate that adverb as ‘interruptingly’ (details in PR 20). Instead, I interpret hupoballein and hupoblēdēn as ‘speak in relay [after someone]’ and ‘speaking in relay’ respectively, and I argue that the concept of relay speaking is a characteristic of competitive speech-making (PR 21–22). As Richard Martin has shown, the Iliad can dramatize Agamemnon and Achilles in the act of competing with each other as speakers, not only as warriors and leaders, and Achilles is consistently portrayed as the better speaker by far (Martin 1989:117; also 63, 69–70, 98, 113, 117, 119, 133, 202, 219, 223, 228). At I.01.292, where I interpret hupoblēdēn as ‘speaking in relay’, Achilles engages in verbal combat with Agamemnon not so much by way of ‘interrupting’ but by picking up the train of thought exactly where his opponent left off—and out-performing him in the process. So, here at I.19.080, Agamemnon backs off from verbal combat with Achilles, using as an excuse the fact that he is wounded: I can’t stand up, and therefore I can’t compete by picking up the train of thought where Achilles left off—and therefore I can’t out-perform him (and perhaps I don’t anymore have the stomach even to try to do so). The successful performer remains standing, and the unsuccessful performer fails to stand up and compete by taking his turn, choosing instead to sit it out. He will still speak to Achilles, but he will speak without offering any more competition (PR 22).

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.

Agamemnon addresses his fellow warriors here as therapontes (plural) of Ares. In contexts where the plural therapontes in combination with Arēos ‘of Ares’ is applied to the Achaeans=Danaans=Argives as a grouping of warriors, the deeper meaning is more evident than in other contexts.

Instead of competing with Achilles as a public speaker, Agamemnon says that all he wants to do now is to make Achilles an offer.

Agamemnon says that he will say a mūthos, and the word occurs twice here: I.19.084, I.19.085. As Richard Martin (1989) has shown, this word as used in Homeric poetry means ‘wording that is spoken for the record’. Thus mūthos “is a speech-act indicating authority, performed at length, usually in public, with a focus on full attention to every detail” (Martin 1989:12). Another example of mūthos occurs at I.19.107, where it is Zeus who says something for the record, ‘wording spoken for the record’. In Homeric terms, 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. In short, any mūthos that is quoted in Homeric poetry must be real because it is supposedly spoken for the record by Homer himself. The modern word myth, derived from post-Homeric uses of the word mūthos, has obviously veered from the Homeric meaning (HQ 119-125, 127-133, 152).

According to Agamemnon, the myth about Hēraklēs has been used against him by the Achaeans. But he will now try to use the same myth to excuse himself.

Agamemnon in claiming that it was not he but rather Zeus together with his divine apparatus that can be held aitios ‘responsible’ for the mistake that resulted in what is narrated in the Iliad. Zeus is well aware of such claims, as we will see when we read the comment on O.01.32–34.

The word atē, which I have been translating as ‘aberration’ or ‘derangement’ or even ‘mistake’ in the general comment on I.19.076–138, is both a passive experience, as described here by Agamemnon, and an active force that is personified as the goddess Atē, as we see later, starting at verse 91. See again the general comment on I.19.076–138.

The application of the epithet Dios thugatēr ‘daughter of Zeus’ to the personified Atē as goddess confers on her an Olympian status here, despite her impending demotion from Olympus.

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.

See the comment on I.02.658.

The wording of Zeus hides the fact that Hēraklēs was fathered directly by him.

The wording of Hērā hides the fact that she is speaking about the mother-to-be of Eurystheus, and that this woman is the wife of the hero Sthenelos, who is the son of the hero Perseus, who in turn was fathered directly by Zeus. Later, at I.19.116 and at I.19.123, the identity of this woman is revealed. For now, however, Zeus is being deceived into thinking that Hērā is speaking about the mother-to-be of Hēraklēs.

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 specifically Agamemnon’s remaining seated, not speaking in the middle

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 specifically Agamemnon’s being last to arrive at the assembly

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 mēnis as a tabu deformation and here specifically an example the relaxation of the speech tabu

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 specifically Agamemnon’s address to Achilles

analysis of Phoenix’ speech to Achilles and atē leading to mēnis with this verse as an example (in Agamemnon’s case)

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

analysis of the non-formulaic eukhesthai introducing speech in this verse

in the context of analyzing eukhesthai formulas where fathers eukhomenoi about their sons (rather than the usual sons about their fathers) [MRBTP: 'ff']

in a list of secular eukhesthai indicating direct speech (introducing speech)

Agamemnon's speech about Atē in Book 19 uses a framework that is the opposite of a flyting speech: it is designed to ratify the renewed solidarity among the Achaeans. Appropriately, the speech-act he recalls to open his discourse was a neikos event, now over—the muthos which the Achaeans spoke to Agamemnon many times (19.85-86), apparently voicing their dissatisfaction with his treatment of Achilles. From this brief reference to the past, Agamemnon shifts to the present: "But I am not responsible" (19.86). Such a denial of guilt would have been an appropriate response to a flyting speech in the past. The variation shows that the neikos words still rankle in Agamemnon's mind, as he even now finds it necessary to shift responsibility—once again, Homer draws attention to Agamemnon's inept use of patterns (Martin 1993:73).

For the broader analysis of the recalled-speech strategy in flyting, see the comment on Iliad 4.336-421.

References

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.

References

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

This scene is depicted on an Athenian black-figure vase dating to the mid 6th century, now at the Louvre (E869, BAPD 310146). Achilles receives a wreath and a shield from Thetis. Both are labeled. To his right stands Odysseys, facing away. His name is spelled ΟΛΥΤΕΥΣ as is usual in non-litterary Attic. The variant with Δ appears supplant the variant with Λ in the second half of the 5th century.

Kretschmer, Paul. Die griechischen Vaseninschriften ihrer Sprache nach untersucht. Gütersloh, Bertelsmann, 1894, pp. 146-148.

Brommer, Frank. “Zur Schreibweise des Namens Odysseus.” Zeitschrift Für Vergleichende Sprachforschung, vol. 96, no. 1, 1982, pp. 88–92.