analysis of the suggestion of Helen’s earlier abduction, otherwise not told, in the Iliad

analysis of Hector and Polydamas as treated as virtual twins in the Iliad, though not actually even brothers (as this line about Polydamas’ father shows)

analysis of the Sun’s apparent endowment with an all-embracing consciousness. Compare to Xenophanes frag.20 (Diehl)

epithet of Castor as “horse-breaking” to distinguish him from Polydeuces and parallels from Indic and the IE twin myth

epithets of Castor and Polydeuces and how they are distinguished from one another

brief analysis of the Dioscuri, who as a combination of immortal and mortal elements, experience an alternation between life and death

analysis of Castor and Polydeuces as represented in the Iliad (as dead heroes)

The Master Narrator of the Homeric Iliad is looking here at Helen for the very first time—or, to say it more accurately, as if for the very first time. Just as Rhapsody 2 needed a new Catalogue of Ships—or, again to say it more accurately—a renewed Catalogue, so also Rhapsody 3 needs a new look at Helen. It seems as if the Trojan War is happening all over again, starting from the very beginning. The old grievances of Menelaos about the abduction of Helen by Paris can now be renewed and even relived, becoming fresh new grievances as the estranged husband and the new lover proceed to engage in mortal combat. But this one-on-one struggle over life and death will soon modulate into a renewal of all-out war between the Achaeans and the Trojans.

Menelaos pulling Paris by the helmet. Detail of Roman sarcophagus of Aurelia Botania Demetria (2nd c. CE); Antalya Archaeological Museum. Photo via Wikimedia Commons.

In situations of strife among heroes as warriors, there is contention over status. Quarreling happens, as indicated here by way of the verb neikeîn ‘quarrel with’. Positive things about each warrior need to be praised, but negative things need to be blamed. At stake for each contending warrior-hero is the honor that he is apportioned in the course of any contention, and the contention itself is expressed by way of negative and positive speech, that is, by way of blame and praise respectively. Such an apportioning of honor is the essence of a warrior-hero’s aisa, which is visualized not only as a portion of plundered goods that gets apportioned to each warrior after such goods are communally divided (as at I.18.327) but also, in general, as a warrior’s ‘fate, destiny’ (as at I.01.416, and so on). The same can be said about the word moira, which can mean not only a ‘portion’ of plundered goods (as at O.11.534) or even of sacrificial meat (as at O.03.066) but also, in general, ‘fate, destiny’ (as at I.06.488, and so on). What is at stake, in the long run, is the aisa or moira of each contending warrior-hero. And this aisa or moira, in the sense of a ‘portion’ that is being apportioned, becomes the warrior’s ‘fate’ or ‘destiny’ in the poetry that tells about him. To restate in colloquial English: aisa or moira becomes the “bone of contention” in the language of praise and blame. Here at I.03.059 as also at I.06.333, Paris actually accepts the words of blame directed at him by his quarreling brother. He says that these words fit his own aisa, admitting that Hector’s words of blame here are kat’ aisan ‘in accord with aisa’ (κατ’ αἶσαν) and not huper aisan ‘in disaccord with aisa’ (ὑπὲρ αἶσαν). We find in Homeric diction comparable combinations of moira, synonym of aisa, with the same adverbs/prepositions kata ‘in accord with’ and huper ‘in disaccord with’, as for example in the case of kata moiran at I.09.059 (κατὰ μοῖραν) and huper moiran at I.20.336 (ὑπὲρ μοῖραν). Further, when the actual words of praise or blame fit the aisa or moira of a given warrior-hero, they will fit not only his destiny but even the overall plot of the epic, as at I.16.707 in the case of aisa and at Ι.16.853 in the case of moira. The plot of epic has a destiny of its own, and this overarching destiny integrates all the individual destinies of the heroes who populate the epic.

The Trojan War is eris ‘strife’. See also eris ‘strife’ at Pindar Paean 6.50–53. That is how this war is seen in the words of Menelaos the Achaean, who claims a juridical grievance on the part of the Achaeans against the Trojans. In terms of the thinking revealed by these words, the beginning of the strife was the abduction of Helen, wife of Menelaos the Achaean, by Paris the Trojan. Accentuating the idea that this juridical grievance of Menelaos was an affair of state is the reference to Paris here by way of his princely name, Alexandros. In royal Hittite correspondences where the Hittite king speaks to and about the king of Ahhiyawa—which is the Hittite way of referring to the land of the Achaeans—we find occasional references to a princely figure by the name of Alaksandu, which is the Hittite pronunciation of Alexandros (Nagy 2015.07.22§25). By contrast, the name Paris is on the surface merely a shepherd’s name (on the symbolism, however, of the shepherd as a king-in-the-making, see Nagy 2009:309). In any case, the eris or ‘strife’ between the Achaeans and the Trojans was caused by ‘my strife’— according to Menelaos the Achaean. To say it more precisely in his words, the Trojan War was ‘because of my strife’ (εἵνεκ’ ἐμῆς ἔριδος). Correspondingly, the arkhē or ‘beginning’ of the strife as begun by Paris=Alexandros was ‘his beginning’ of that strife. To say it again more precisely in the words of Menelaos, the beginning of the Trojan War was ‘because of the beginning on the part of Paris=Alexandros’ (Ἀλεξάνδρου ἕνεκ’ ἀρχῆς). Here it is important to compare what was narrated in the Cypria, which as an epic belonging to a set of epics known as the epic Cycle. On the epic Cycle, see the inventory of Words and Ideas. In the Cypria of the epic Cycle as also in the Iliad, the Trojan War is likewise seen as eris ‘strife’. As we read in the plot-summary of the Cypria in Proclus 102.13–19 (ed. Allen 1912), it all began at a feast celebrating the marriage of Thetis and Peleus—a marriage that led to the conception of Achilles himself. It was the Will of Zeus that Eris ‘Strife’ personified would bring about a neikos ‘quarrel’ among the gods that would ultimately result in the Trojan War (Proclus 102.14/15 on Eris/neikos). As we see further in the plot-summary of the Cypria, Proclus 102.14–19, the Eris/neikos extends to the figure of Paris, who has to choose from among Hērā, Athena, and Aphrodite, Cypria/Proclus 102.14–19. This Judgment of Paris is recapitulated at I.24.025–030: the fact that Paris chose Aphrodite means that he aimed negative words at Hērā and Athena, as expressed by the verb neikeîn ‘quarrel with’ at I.24.029 (νείκεσσε), while he aimed positive words at Aphrodite, as expressed by the verb aineîn ‘praise’ at I.24.030 (ᾔνησ᾽). These verbs aineîn ‘praise’ and neikeîn ‘quarrel with’ express both the social and the poetic significance of praise and blame respectively.

Helen is seen here at I.03.125–128 for the first time in the Iliad. She is shown in the act of pattern-weaving. Instead of singing while weaving, she weaves her song into the web that she pattern-weaves. See also the comment on I.22.440–441, where comparable wording shows Andromache weaving a web of her own. In the case of Helen at I.03.125–128 here, the song that she weaves into her web is about the aethloi (āthloi) ‘ordeals’ of war suffered by Trojans and Achaeans alike—a war they suffered all because of her. The song of the Trojan War is the song of the Iliad—and it is Helen’s song. Purple is the dominant color of Helen’s web, matching the blood of war that stains her song. There also exists, however, a variant epithet for the web that Helen weaves at I.03.126: this diplax ‘pattern-woven fabric that folds in two’ is described in some medieval manuscript versions as porphureē ‘purple’ but in others as marmareē ‘gleaming’. For more on this variant marmareē ‘gleaming’, see the comment on I.22.440-441 on the web of Andromache.

This word en-passein ‘sprinkle’ conveys a metaphor for the process of pattern-weaving. See further at I.22.441.

See anchor comment at I.12.188.

By referring to the will of the gods in general instead of the Will of Zeus in particular, Priam avoids saying directly that the abduction of Helen is part of the overarching plot of the Homeric Iliad.

Kastōr and Poludeukēs, latinized as Castor and Pollux, are the Divine Twins, sons of Zeus. Another name for them is Dioskouroi ‘sons of Zeus’. Kastōr and Poludeukēs are also mentioned at O.11.300. The wording of I.03.237 and of O.11.300 is cognate with the wording we find a fragment of Stesichorus: see PH 458. On the etymology of Poludeúkēs, I epitomize from PasP 51. The noun Poludeúkēs as a name is straightforwardly related to the adjective poludeukḗs, in that the recessive accent of the name is typical of the naming function, as we see from such morphologically related formations as Poluneíkēs ‘having many quarrels [es-stem neîkos]’ or ‘having quarrels in many different ways’ (or ‘many times’). In the mythological functions of the divine figure Poludeúkēs, the idea of continuity, conveyed by the root deuk-, seems as evident as that of variety, since the Divine Twins are models of consistency, perseverance, reliability (as in Homeric Hymn 33). In an astrological sense, we could say that Poludeúkēs, in the role of Morning Star, is ‘repeating many times’, the symbol of many happy returns. On the Divine Twins as alternating Morning Star / Evening Star, I offer an analysis in GMP 258–259. And the repetition can be visualized as a cyclical one—a pattern of eternal return. There is a striking semantic and morphological parallel in poluderkḗs ‘seeing in many different ways’ (or ‘many times’), epithet of the dawn-goddess Ēōs in Hesiod (Theogony* 451).

The noun aiskhos ‘disgrace, shame’ is used here as a synonym of the noun oneidos ‘words of insult’.

The epithet xanthos ‘golden’ (with reference to hair) is a stylized signal of a mystical immortalization after death for mortal heroes in Homeric poetry. In the case of Menelaos, his immortalization is prophesied at Ο.04.561–569.

analysis of the meaning of diakridon, and the disengagement of armies (as in this line) as an example of it

analysis of the meaning of diakridon, and the disengagement of armies (as in this line) as an example of it

variant reading at this verse (porphureē/marmareē)

analysis of grieving as social and here of goos as the product of himeros, which is also sexual desire associated with Aphrodite and philotēs

analysis of eukhesthai in its concrete sense ‘say a prayer’ with the adverb megala, in the context of postulating ‘say (in a functionally marked context)’ as antecedent of ‘pray’ (eukhesthai in sacral contexts)

analysis of the only two prayers addressed to more than one god (this and I.03.298ff.), in the context of analyzing the transformation of formula (A) – sacral – to (B) – secular – specifically with reference to pluralization of responders [MRBTP: 'ff']

During the teikhoskopia, Antenor associates the word muthos with well-made plans (mēdea) (3.212-17). The passage shows a clear correspondence between the adjectives polumuthos and polumētis, "with much clever intelligence": mētis, in turn, bears a close relation to mēdea in Greek. Muthos is correlated elsewhere in the poem with words for counsel (boulē) and intellect (noēma) (Martin 1993:15).

Antenor's description of Odysseus' rhetoric mentions voice (opa) and words (epea) in the same breath, and vividly compares the latter with winter snowflakes (3.221-22): the image is that of a powerful, silent natural phenomenon itself composed of single powerless parts (Martin 1993:17).

Hektor's direct insults to his brother Paris at 3.38-57 deploy every flyting device. Paris' response is described as a muthos (3.76 and 3.87), and his proposal to stage a duel produces a temporary harmony within Trojan ranks, as it opens the possibility of ending the larger neikos of the war. Yet Paris' muthos, set in the context of a fraternal dispute, still bears the marks of flyting discourse. It includes a strong prohibitive—"Do not bring up against me the lovely gifts of Aphrodite"—which is the rhetorical equivalent of a denial of responsibility. Another mark is the comparison of Hektor's heart and mind to a woodsman's unwearied axe (3.61-64). In Homer's diction, the adjective ateirēs either describes a bronze weapon or a voice raised in rough encouragement mixed with rebuke; Hektor has used the same rare word (katēpheiē, 3.51) in his flyting speech. Paris' retort, "your heart is like an 'unwearied' axe," thus registers Hektor's tone of voice while also suggesting that Hektor requires flyting language as compensation for lack of power in arms. Paris' manipulation of poetic simile is a dexterous face-saving performance that proves to be an accurate prediction of Hektor's ultimate dilemma (Martin 1993:74-75).

For the broader analysis of flyting as a muthos genre, see the comment on Iliad 4.336-421.

References

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

The speeches that Homer gives his characters further the narrative strategy of ranking heroic worth, as can be seen in the teikhoskopia in Book 3, a device designed to turn the narrator's exposition of mundane fact into a dramatically persuasive scene. At the same time, the speeches embody an assumption, often overlooked: that heroes themselves can evaluate one another's "style," particularly in the act of speaking. Along with characterizing Agamemnon and the others in terms of physique and prowess, this scene serves to show us speech styles, through the reminiscences of Antenor. The details he notices when recalling an earlier visit to Troy by Menelaos and Odysseus relate specifically to the "performance" of muthoi (3.212-23): "But when they wove speeches (muthoi) and plans for all... Menelaos discoursed in running fashion, speaking little, but very clearly (ligeōs), since he is not much with words (polumuthos) nor one to cast words about (apharmatoepēs)... But when Odysseus much with wiles got up, he'd stand, he'd look down fixing his eyes on the ground... keeping still, looking like a witless man. Yet when he let the great voice out of his chest, and the words (epea), like winter flakes of snow, that is when no other mortal could contend with Odysseus" (Martin 1993:95-96).

Antenor assumes that there is a code of behavior for speakers in such situations, a set of performance conventions: one should move the scepter to make a point, for instance. Odysseus employs an unconventional strategy for capturing his audience, a style that plays off the shared knowledge of conventions, and thereby foregrounds his rhetorical act. By creatively modifying traditional material, Odysseus brings about a memorable performance. He creates a contrast between his appearance and the reality of his oratorical power; he characterizes himself by a muthos, the perfect vehicle for self-presentation. Such stylistic awareness is a cultural, and not just a "sophisticated," poetic process (Martin 1993:96).

The heroes' concern with speech style springs from the need to differentiate oneself and establish status, an imperative found in ethnographic descriptions of competitive cultures. That the status of a person is rated before the hero's speech emerges from Diomedes' remark, after giving his genealogy in full, that the Achaeans cannot now devalue his performance (muthon atimēsaite, 14.127) by calling him strengthless and ignoble. Speech style, status, and ranking must be taken as related manifestations of the workings of the all-important concept of timē (Martin 1993:97-98).

References

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

Homer pictures the Trojan elders as spectators to the action, rather than participants; this emerges later in the famous scene on the wall, where they are described as "stopped by old age from warring, but fine public speakers (agorētai), like cicadas" (3.150-51). Their style is not more harshly judged only because the Trojan elders are innocuous. By heroic standards, it is certainly as distasteful as Thersites' style. Those who perform earn the right to talk, because deeds enacted automatically offer a defense against blame (Martin 1993:110-11).

For the broader analysis of Thersites as the negative foil and the performance value of akritomuthos, see the comment on Iliad 2.211-243.

References

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