analysis of the meaning of Hector’s name (from ekhō) and how it is evoked in the Iliad (as here)

A high point here in Rhapsody 6 is a tearful scene of farewell for Andromache and Hector. The loving wife will never again see her husband alive. The scene is justly admired for its artistic portrayal of this tragically doomed couple, but the verbal artistry extends even further: also to be most admired here is the remarkable precision of poetic language in representing lament as it was actually performed in ancient Greek song culture.

Apulian red-figure column-crater (ca. 370–360 BCE) depicting an intimate family scene: Hector removes his helmet as he says his final farewell to his wife Andromache and to their child Astyanax. Public domain image by Jastrow via Wikimieda Commons

The first name for the son of Hector, Astyanax [Astuanax], I.06.403, means ‘king [anax] of the city [astu]’. The meaning of this “speaking name” (nomen loquens) is relevant to the heroic function of the father as guarding a citadel from sieges. See the comment on I.22.506–507. The second name for the son of Hector, Scamandrius [Skamandrios], I.06.402, derives from a rival Aeolian tradition, here undermined by the prevailing Ionian tradition of the Iliad (HPC 203–205). According to this rival tradition, as we read in Euripides Andromache 224 (together with the scholia for that verse), Scamandrius was a bastard son of Hector who survived the Trojan War, to be distinguished from the legitimate son of Hector and Andromache, Astyanax, who tragically failed to survive. According to Aeolian traditions, Scamandrius not only survived the Trojan War but later became king of Troy (scholia T for I.24.735). By contrast, according to the dominantly Ionian traditions as represented by the Iliad as we have it, Scamandrius could not have survived if he was the same child as Astyanax, which is what we read here at I.06.402–403. So, the version as we have it kills off the potentially surviving half-brother.

Here at I.06.407–439, the wording of Andromache in addressing her departing husband Hector, whom she will never again see alive, is not just a speech expressing her sorrows: it is also, in terms of Homeric representation, a song of lament. What now follows is a general introduction to what is meant here. Ancient Greek lament is a deeply ritualized ritual practice, and there are survivals of this practice even to this day in some Greek-speaking communities. For background on the continuities and the discontinuities of this practice, I recommend the book by Margaret Alexiou, The Ritual Lament in Greek Tradition (1974). Aside from the specific example of ancient Greek laments, there are many other examples of such a practice to be found in a wide variety of societies throughout the world. In general, lament is understood to mean the formal expression of the emotion that we know as sadness—or, to say it more formally, sorrow. In Homeric diction, the primary words that are used for referring to sorrow are akhos or penthos, both of which I ordinarily translate as ‘grief’. In the case of ancient Greek society as also in many other cases, however, the general definition of lament as an expression of sorrow is insufficient. A lament can be more than just an expression of some inner sorrow by way of outward signs like crying. The outward signs can be formalized by way of crying and verbalizing at the same time. And the act of verbalizing can even become an act of singing, as in the case of ancient Greek traditions. In terms of these traditions, the act of lamenting is an act of singing while crying and crying while singing. And this kind of singing is crying; this kind of crying is singing. The physical aspects of crying are all integrated into the singing: the flow of tears, the choking of the voice, the convulsions of the body, and so on, are all part of the singing. And such physical aspects are also formalized into a kinetic system of stylized movements—to be seen as a kind of dancing that is integrated with the singing. On such a kinetic aspect of lament, see further the comment on I.18.051–060.

In the Iliad, Andromache is represented as singing three songs of lament for Hector. Each one of these three laments is quoted, as it were, by the Master Narrator, and each one of the quotations corresponds morphologically to a genuine song of lament as sung by a lamenting woman. It must be emphasized, however, that the laments that we see being quoted by the epic of Homeric poety do not represent the actual meter of lament as sung in real laments. The genre of epic regularly uses its own meter, which is the dactylic hexameter, in representing other genres that it quotes, including unmetrical genres (Martin 1989:12–42; also pp. 87–88, specifically on lament). But the morphology of laments quoted by epic still follows the rules of lament. On this point about the morphology of lament, see further the anchor comment on I.19.282–302. In other words, each quotation of each one of the three laments performed by Andromache is meant to be heard as a re-enactment, performed by the Master Narrator, of a genuine song of lament. In the first lament, as quoted by the Master Narrator here at I.06.407–439, Andromache is already lamenting the death of Hector before he is even dead. As for the second lament, at I.22.477–514, Andromache will sing it when she sees the corpse of Hector for the first time. As for the third lament, at I.24.725–745, Andromache will sing it on the occasion of Hector’s funeral. The first two laments can be seen as previews, as it were, of the more formal third lament. But it must be kept in mind that the traditions of lamentation can allow for the spontaneous singing of a lament as an instant response to a deep loss that has just happened—or even as a premonition of a future loss that has yet to happen. On this point about premonition, there are further comments in H24H 3§§23–24; see also Nagy 2015.06.17. See also anchor comment at I.22.476–515 on: three laments by Andromache, part 2; and anchor comment at I.24.723–746 on: three laments by Andromache, part 3.

The wording of Hector, addressed to Andromache here at I.06.447–464, reveals a morbid but realistic premonition of the grim future that awaits her. This kind of premonition is typical in women’s laments: see the anchor comment at I.06.407–439. Here at I.06.447–464, however, it is Hector who expresses the premonition, which could otherwise have been expressed by Andromache herself in her own song of lament.

The “great floating horsetail crested helmet” worn by Hector frightens his child when the hero first tries to embrace him. I follow here the incisive observation of Vermeule 1987:146. This wistful detail can be dated back to a world otherwise long forgotten, if Vermeule is right in saying that this kind of helmet went out of production sometime around the middle of the second millennium BCE.

lemmatizing: δακρυόεν γελάσασα

As Andromache watches her husband Hector embracing their child, she ‘smiles through her tears’, or, more literally, she ‘smiles a smile that is tearful’. This weak smile carries over from I.06.471, where both father and mother smile when their child is frightened by the helmet of Hector.

After they say farewell to each other, Hector turns away and goes off to the battlefield, facing the certainty of death, while Andromache turns away and goes off to her chamber. But ‘she keeps turning back again and again’ toward Hector, entropalizomenē at I.06.496, hoping to catch one last glimpse of the receding view of her doomed husband.

example of the naming process by association (here, Hektor and Astuanax), in the context of analyzing the names of Hektor’s horses

comparison of Hector’s menos with Zeus’ in fighting Typhoeus in Theogony, and the antagonism of doubles [MRBTP: 'ff']

analysis of Hector’s and Andromache’s exchange and comparison with Kleopatre’s with Meleagros (I.09) and Achilles and Patroklos, and analysis of kleos, patēr, and philoi in these contexts

analysis of Hector’s and Andromache’s exchange and comparison with Kleopatre’s with Meleagros (I.09) and Achilles and Patroklos, and analysis of kleos, patēr, and philoi in these contexts

analysis of Hector’s and Andromache’s exchange and comparison with Kleopatre’s with Meleagros (I.09) and Achilles and Patroklos, and analysis of kleos, patēr, and philoi in these contexts

switch from Dii patri to Dii t’alloisin te theoisin attested with a variation of the || (short OR two shorts) euxamenos Dii patri # formula which uses epeukhesthai instead of eukhesthai, in the context of analyzing Allen’s text at I.08.526 vs. Zenodotus’s version of the verse

Hektor is more constantly preoccupied with the winning of reputation than any other hero in the poem. When others mention kleos, it is to assume that one has lost it (as Agamemnon often does) or that one will gain it ultimately (Achilles' knowledge). Only Hektor must concentrate on the process of wresting "unwithering fame" from an audience always threatening to broadcast blame. His concern shows in the single answer he gives to Andromakhe's urgent request for him to stay within Troy (6.441-46): "Woman, all this affects me, but I terribly fear (aideomai) the Trojans, and Trojan women with trailing gown, if, like a bad man (kakos), I avoid war from afar. Nor does inner desire (thumos) impel me, since I have learned to be excellent always, and fight with the Trojan front-lines, winning my father's good repute (kleos) and my own." Hektor's determination to perform before his local audience may even explain his much-noticed "secularization" of bird-signs and other prophetic speech: the performer on the stage of Troy knows that the gods cannot help him execute his moves, so he cares nothing about whether the birds "go rightwards to sun and dawn or to the left, to misty dusk" (12.239-40) (Martin 1993:133).

For Hektor's distinctive quotation strategy in the memory genre, see the comment on Iliad 6.459-461.

References

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

It is in the discourse of recollection that Hektor shows the clearest differences with other heroic speakers. A remarkable trait of his style is the use of direct quotation to dramatize for his audience what he imagines will happen. More than this, the quotations are actually representations of what already has taken place. In other words, Hektor displaces memory onto an anonymous voice that speaks the language of praise or blame. His discourse of recollection is ordered in the hierarchy of three genres beneath flyting; his rhetoric is still constrained by the imagined speech-acts of others (Martin 1993:136).

The first clear example comes in his meeting with his wife. The passage quotes an unnamed speaker's comment on seeing Andromakhe as a prize of war after the fall of Troy: "And sometime someone may say, 'Here is the wife of Hektor, he who excelled at fighting, of the horse-taming Trojans, when they fought about Ilion'" (6.459-61). The dramatic realism increases our sympathy for Andromakhe as it convinces us of Hektor's affection. But the actual content of the quote constitutes a snatch of praise-poetry concerning Hektor himself; in an oblique manner, Hektor is creating the exact format of his own reputation, like a poet writing his own epitaph (Martin 1993:135-36).

For the broader analysis of Hektor's style in all three genres, see the comment on Iliad 7.235-241.

References

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