The centerpiece of Iliad 18 is the shield of Achilles, envisioned as a work of art that defines the universe. The divine artisan Hephaistos makes this shield by way of metalwork, but Homeric poetry reconfigures the artistry of this metalwork by way of verbal art. And the artistry of Homeric poetry will now create or re-create a cosmos that is designed to contain the Iliad itself.

“The Shield of Achilles.” Illustration originally published in The Penny Magazine of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, September 22, 1832.

The particle de (δέ) of I.18.356 is syntactically correlated with the particle men (μέν) in a preceding verse, I.18.354. But a rhapsode (rhapsōidos) could begin his performance with the de-clause, thus “stranding,” as it were, the preceding men-clause. Here is an example, with reference to the performance of a rhapsode in the Ptolemaic era of Alexandria:

καὶ ὁ μὲν ῥαψῳδὸς εὐθὺς ἦν διὰ στόματος πᾶσιν, ἐν τοῖς Πτολεμαίου γάμοις ἀγομένου τὴν ἀδελφὴν καὶ πρᾶγμα δρᾶν ἀλλόκοτον <νομιζ>ομένου καὶ ἄθεσμον ἀρξάμενος ἀπὸ τῶν ἐπῶν ἐκείνων·

Ζεὺς δ᾿ Ἥρην ἐκάλεσσε κασιγνήτην ἄλοχόν τε [I.18.356]

The rhapsode [rhapsōidos] was the talk of everybody—the one who, at the wedding of Ptolemy who, in marrying his own sister was considered to be committing a deed unnatural and unholy, began with the following words: ‘And [de] Zeus summoned Hērā his sister, his wife’ [I.18.356]

Plutarch Table Talk 736e

The historical occasion is the wedding, in the first quarter of the third century before our era, of Ptolemy II Philadelphus to his sister, Arsinoe, in accordance with the practice of Egyptian pharaohs—and in violation of Hellenic practices. Evidently, then, the particle de could be used to begin a rhapsodic performance, even in contexts were such a use was dependent on a preceding men-clause. For an example of such a de at the beginning of a Homeric rhapsody, see the comment on O.03.001.

The domos ‘abode’ of Hephaistos, I.18.369, is described as aphthitos ‘imperishable’, I.18.370, and khalkeos ‘made of bronze’, Ι.18.371. More in a later comment about the implications.

The cosmic river Ōkeanos is described here at I.18.399 as apsorrhoos ‘backward-flowing’ (ἀψορρόου Ὠκεανοῖο). Since this river is visualized as flowing around the world in a circle, its flow always comes back to where it started. Since the flow comes back full circle, the Ōkeanos is ‘backward-flowing’.

acc. loigon as occurring exclusively in combination with the verb amun-, in the context of analyzing the parallel diction used of the dire military situation resulting from Achilles’ mēnis and the plague resulting from Apollo’s mēnis, and the change from Achilles to Patroklos as the subject of the verb

Here is what the divine artisan wishes as he proceeds to make a new set of armor for Achilles: ‘|464 If only I could have the power to hide him from sorrowful death, |465 when his dreadful fate comes upon him |466 —as surely as there will be fine armor for him!’ (|464 αἲ γάρ μιν θανάτοιο δυσηχέος ὧδε δυναίμην |465 νόσφιν ἀποκρύψαι, ὅτε μιν μόρος αἰνὸς ἱκάνοι, |466 ὥς οἱ τεύχεα καλὰ παρέσσεται’). What follows is an epitome from GMP 296. Hephaistos is here wishing for something that is uncertain, and the wish is linked by the adverb hōde (ὧδε) ‘so’ with the conjunction hōs (ὡς) ‘as’ introducing an absolute certainty, that Achilles will have fine armor. In other words, the uncertainty of the wish, that Achilles be saved from death, is correlated with the certainty of the premise, that Achilles will have fine armor. I highlight the wording ai gar (αἲ γάρ + optative) ‘if only’, which expresses the wish, and the wording hōde… hōs (ὧδε…ὡς) ‘as surely as’, which connects this wish to the premise. We see here a parallelism with the wording ei gar (εἰ γάρ + optative) ‘if only’ when Hector expresses his wish to become an immortal, I.08.538 and I.13.825, and with the wording hōs/houtō…hōs (ὣς/οὕτω…ὡς) ‘as surely as’, which connects his wish to his premise as expressed at I.08.538-541 and I.13.825–828-that disaster will surely befall the Achaeans. In some cases, as in the three I have just highlighted, it sounds as if the speaker of the wish were expressing an obvious impossibility. But there are many cases where the wish being expressed is not at all meant to sound impossible: for an example, see I.04.313–314 and the comment there. Other such examples include O.03.218–220, O.14.440–441, O.15.341–342, O.17.494, O.17.496, O.18.235–240. For a more complicated example, see I.16.722–723 and the comment there. I save for a later comment some further examples.

The god Hephaistos makes a new set of metallic armor for Achilles to wear, replacing the older set that is now worn by Hector. The divine metalworker commences the work at I.18.468 and completes it at I.18.613. Then at I.18.614 the narrative announces that the overall work on the armor has now been completed. The metalwork itself is described as primarily bronzework, I.18.474, since bronze is the very first kind of metal that the god ‘was casting in the fire’ (ἐν πυρὶ βάλλεν), and then there are three secondary metals that are mentioned in succession at I.18.474–475: tin, gold, and silver. But bronze dominates the narrative. And the very first piece of armor to be made by the divine metalworker, as announced at I.18.478–479, is the sakos or ‘shield’, I.18.478, which is the centerpiece of the entire process of manufacturing the new set of armor for Achilles. The narrative that describes the making of the shield, which is already a description of the shield in the making, lasts from I.18.478 all the way to I.18.608. Then at I.18.609 the narrative announces that the work on the shield has now been completed. Just as the beginning of the narrative about the making of the shield announces the word sakos ‘shield’ at I.18.478, so also the ending that announces the completion of the work also announces again the same word sakos ‘shield’ at I.18.609, and thus the narrative has come full circle in a spectacular display of ring-composition. This ring-composition expresses here the circularity of the shield, but that circularity is also expressed by way of the adornment that encircles the shield. This adornment is the rim of the shield, presumably imagined as blue, and its encirclement of the shield is said to represent the cosmic river Ōkeanos, I.18.607–608. Such an encirclement of the shield by a representation of the Ōkeanos corresponds to the encirclement of the cosmos by the ever-circular flow of the Ōkeanos itself. See the comment on I.18.399. So, the correspondence shows that the shield in the making is in fact the cosmos in the making. As soon as the shield, as a narration in the making, is finally complete, the shield as an object in the making can finally be seen as a made object. What then follows at I.18.610–613 is the making of other parts of the armor: breastplate, helmet, greaves. And then comes the announcement at I.18.614, as already noted, that the work is now complete. Thus the beginning and the completion of the work on the shield, signaled in the ring-composition that starts at I.18.478 and comes full circle at I.18.608, is enveloped by a wider ring-composition that starts at I.18.468 and comes full circle at I.18.614.

As noted in the previous comment, which analyzes the wider narrative, the narrower narrative about the making of the shield begins at I.18.478 and comes full circle at I.18.608, followed by an announcement of the completion at I.18.609. For the wider narrative, see again the comment on I.18.468–613. As for the narrower narrative here, the analysis will require a different perspective. As the camera zooms in, as it were, on the world of images that are being worked into the surface of the shield by the divine metalworker Hephaistos, the artistic microcosm that we now see being pictured here represents a physical macrocosm that turns out to be the Homeric cosmos itself, defined by the world-encircling river Ōkeanos as its outer limit. The cosmic essence of this Ōkeanos, signaled at I.18.607–608, has already been analyzed in the earlier comment on I.18.468–613. Also, as noted in the still earlier comment on I.14.245–246–246a, the Homeric traditions about Ōkeanos coexisted with older traditions attributed to Orpheus, and, already in the ancient world, various interpreters developed various influential theories about the cosmos by viewing such Orphic traditions about the Ōkeanos together with the corresponding Homeric traditions. One such interpreter was Crates of Mallos, for whom the Ōkeanos was an essential part of an allegory about the cosmos: see the comment on I.14.245–246–246a. For Crates, his interpretation of the verses about the Ōkeanos at I.14.245–246–246a as a cosmic allegory was evidently coextensive with his interpretation of the verses about the shield being made for Achilles here at I.18.478–609. And there is a further extension: for Crates, the verses at I.11.032–040 about the images worked into the shield of Agamemnon were likewise a cosmic allegory: see the comment on I.11.032–040.

The antux ‘rim’ that is being made for the shield of Achilles, mentioned here at I.18.479 and again at I.18.608, is triplax ‘threefold’, I.18.480, and the outermost fold or circle of this antux is the Ōkeanos, I.18.608. For Crates, as noted in the comment on I.18.478–609, this design representing the Ōkeanos is part of an overall cosmic allegory. In Eustathius Commentary on the Iliad vol. 4 p. 218 lines 14–17, the commentator draws attention to the morphological parallelism of triplax ‘threefold’ with diplax ‘twofold’, the second of which words refers at I.03.126 and at I.22.441 to a pattern-woven fabric. So, Eustathius recognizes here a crossover between the artistic worlds of metalwork and weaving. On the diplax, see already the comment on I.03.125–128. The epithet for antux ‘rim’ as marmareē ‘gleaming’ at I.18.480 is relevant, since the same word is attested as an epithet for the woven fabric that is called a diplax at both I.03.126 and I.22.441 in the medieval manuscript tradition. As we see from the attested medieval texts, the epithet marmareē ‘gleaming’ varies with porphureē ‘purple’ at both I.03.126 and I.22.441. For more on the interchangeable worlds of metalworking and weaving, see I.18.590 and the relevant comment on I.18.590–606.

The mapping here of earth and sky on the Shield shows the centrality of the physical cosmos in the overall design of the visual narrative.

Beginning at I.18.483 and ending at I.18.603 are the verses that actually narrate the images that are worked by the divine metalworker into the surface of the Shield of Achilles. So far in the comments on Iliad 18, I have not capitalized the first letter of the word referring to the Shield, since I have been viewing this object primarily as an object in the making. But now, as I begin to view this imagined object primarily as a narrative in the making, I write Shield, not shield. And I now apply the technical term ecphrasis to this core narrative, by which I mean the narration of visual—or at least visualized—art by way of verbal art. From the start, I find it most noteworthy to report what we learn from the testimony of the scholia A for I.18.483: that Zenodotus of Ephesus (see under Zenodotus in the inventory of Words and Ideas) athetized this entire ecphrasis, that is, all the verses that narrated, by way of verbal art, the visual or at least visualized narrative of the Shield, I.18.483–608. (On athetesis and athetizing, see the inventory of Words and Ideas.) But Zenodotus retained these verses in the base text of his edition. (On base text, see the inventory of Words and Ideas). We know this from the fact that Aristarchus, in his edition of Homer, reported a variant textual reading that had been attested by Zenodotus in the case of one of these athetized verses, I.18.499. See the comment below on I.18.499. By contrast with Zenodotus, an editor like Crates of Mallos considered the entire narrative of the Shield to be an all-important part of the Iliad writ large: see the comment on I.18.478–609.

The astral configuration of Orion the Hunter and Arktos the Bear here at I.18.487–489, recurs at O.05.273–275, on which see the comments there.

The tale of two cities begins here. So, there is a transition from the realm of a natural world to what seems at first to be the realm of a social world. The narrative connects immediately with the first of the two cities. As this narrative proceeds, it would seem as if the first city were at peace, since the second city is at war: when the narrative actually turns to the second city, starting at I.18.509, we see right away a scene of warmaking.

The first scene to be featured in the city at peace is a wedding. But there is not just one wedding: rather, there is a distributive sequence of wedding scenes to be viewed one after the other, as if each viewing were a repetition of the previous viewing. From here on, I will refer to such a visual trope as a wallpaper effect.

This word numphē, meaning ‘local goddess’ as at I.06.420, can refer to a ‘bride’ at the ritual moment of getting married. Such an extension of meaning, where the human can be merged with the divine, is a characteristic of climactic moments in ritual. More in other comments, especially in the comment on I.19.155.

The litigants in this litigation scene are anonymous, but the noun neikos ‘quarrel’ at I.18.497 and the verb neikeîn at I.18.498 are evocative of the quarrel that took place between Achilles and Agamemnon in Iliad 1. If the plaintiff and the defendant in the litigation scene are comparable to Achilles and Agamemnon, then what would be the cause of their quarrel? In terms of the micro-narrative that has been worked into the Shield, the quarrel is about the price of a human life. The quarrel is about payment of a poinē ‘blood-price’, I.18.498, for the life of a man who perished. But who would be this man who perished? In terms of the Iliad as a macro-narrative containing the micro-narrative of this litigation scene, the man who perished could be seen as Patroklos. If Agamemnon had not insulted Achilles in Iliad 1, Patroklos would not have been killed as a substitute for Achilles. So, it would seem justifiable for Achilles to blame Agamemnon for the death of Patroklos. And if Achilles were to prosecute Agamemnon, how much would Agamemnon pay as a blood-price for the life of Patroklos? In the litigation scene, the defendant who is being blamed for the death of the man who perished claims the right to pay the blood-price in full, but the plaintiff refuses to accept any compensation at all. Following the interpretation of Muellner 1976:100–106, I translate as follows the relevant wording at I.18.499–500: ‘The one made a claim [eukheto] to pay back in full, | declaring publicly to the district [dēmos], but the other was refusing to accept anything’ (ὃ μὲν εὔχετο πάντ᾽ ἀποδοῦναι | δήμῳ πιφαύσκων, ὃ δ᾽ ἀναίνετο μηδὲν ἑλέσθαι). In this context, the collocation of the political term dēmos ‘district’ (δήμῳ at I.18.500) with the juridical term eukhesthai ‘make a claim’ (εὔχετο at I.18.499) is cognate with the collocation of the same political term dāmos (da-mo) with the same juridical term eukhesthai ‘make a claim’ (e-u-ke-to = eukhetoi) in the Linear B tablet Ep 704 from Pylos (HR 75–76). In terms of the macro-narrative in the Iliad, there is for Achilles no price that could ever repay the loss of his nearest and dearest companion. But who is to determine how to achieve justice in the course of the litigation as described in the micro-narrative? As we see at I.18.501, both litigants opted for arbitration: ‘both were heading for an arbitrator [histōr], to get a limit [peirar]’ (ἄμφω δ᾽ ἱέσθην ἐπὶ ἴστορι πεῖραρ ἑλέσθαι). The context of the arbitration is narrated at I.18.502–508. Surrounding the litigants is an outer circle of lāoi ‘people’, I.18.502, who shout their approval for one side or the other, and an inner circle of elders who compete with each other in striving to reach the most equitable formula for a successful arbitration, I.18.503–508. These elders are taking turns as each one of them stands up, with scepter in hand, to pronounce their competing formulations (details in H24H 13§36; also GMP 53, 64). Their action is thus distributive, since they make their pronouncements not as a group but individually and competitively (see the scholia A for Iliad 18.506 and the comments in HPC 67). So, when the elders are described at I.18.505 as ‘holding their scepters’, it is not that they are all holding scepters at the same time: rather, each one takes turns in holding the scepter, and you hold it only when it is your turn to speak. Again I see here a wallpaper effect.

The anonymous dead man whose life has been lost is described at I.18.499 as apophthimenos (ἀποφθιμένου), that is, as someone who ‘perished’. This reading comes from the base text once used by Aristarchus, but there was a variant reading apoktamenos ‘killed’ (ἀποκταμένου) in the base text used by Zenodotus. For the implications of such variation between the base texts of Aristarchus and Zenodotus, see the comment on I.18.483–608.

Now the narrative turns from the first city, viewed in a time of peace, to the second city, viewed in a time of war. The city at war is under siege, and the warriors who are besieging this city have not yet decided whether to destroy it completely if they win—or whether they keep the spoils of war, dividing among themselves whatever they acquire by conquest, I.18.509–512. While the besiegers encircling the city are deliberating at ground level down below, the visual narration turns around and looks upward to view the city walls of the besieged: standing up there on the walls are the women and children and old men, I.18.514–515, awaiting their fate. The whole scene evokes the siege of Troy in the macro-narrative of the Iliad.

The scene picturing the besieged city now shifts to a scene picturing warriors on the attack. Leading them are the divinities Ares and Athena, I.18.516, who are pictured here as pictures, so to speak, since the divine artisan Hephaistos has metalworked them in gold, I.18.517. But these two divinities are at the same time pictured also as life-size, so to speak, since they are metalworked as larger in size than the warriors whom they lead, I.18.519. The pairing of Ares and Athena as divinities of war stems from an old tradition going back to the Bronze Age. See the comments on O.14.216.

This epithet arizēlo- ‘most visible’, applied here to the divinities Ares and Athena as worked in gold, marks a notionally everlasting vision, pictured by Homeric poetry as a perfect and permanent work of art.

analysis of kēdea as a social phenomenon that creates a bond of solidarity

in a list of instances where phanai substitutes for eukhesthai where it is combined with comparative/superlative

Hephaistos’ making objects that move by themselves, mētis and its associations with females (specifically the creation of children), and the Hesiodic account of his birth, in the context of analyzing his role in Iliad 1 in quelling the dispute between Zeus and Hera

comment on Thetis’ exceptionality as a goddess with kēdea, which normally distinguish men from gods

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

comment on Thetis’ description of Achilles here in the context of analyzing Achilles as the first victim of his mēnis

comment on the nature of cross-reference in a tradition of performance, here the similarity of Thetis’ recounting to Hephaistos of the embassy to Achilles, which contains an expression otherwise found only in Phoenix’s description of the embassy to Meleagros

analysis of these verses and the meaning of legal eukhesthai in comparison with the Linear B tablet PY Ep 704, and development of the legal and secular usages of eukhesthai (etymology of eukhesthai)

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

analysis of the legal eukhesthai, the only occurrence of which in Homer is in this passage

analysis of the relative value of psukhē and kleos

analysis of Ajax’s speech (esp. about poinē) and its comparison with Phoenix’s Meleagros story and Achilles’ Shield in this passage