Iliad. Homer. London. 1863.
Sponsored by Perseus Project, Tufts University.
Iliad. Homer. London. 1863.
Sponsored by Perseus Project, Tufts University.
English (Alexander Pope, 1720, ed. Watson, 1857) (OCR draft) (English) (English (Alexander Pope, 1720, ed. Watson, 1857))
Provisional text from uncorrected OCR; expect errors.
Iliad
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.
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.
The epithet Dios thugatēr / thugatēr Dios ‘daughter of Zeus’, applied here to Aphrodite, can signal the beneficence of such goddesses toward privileged heroes like, in this case, Paris=Alexandros. In general, this epithet is applied to the following goddesses: Aphrodite, as here at I.03.374, also at I.05.131 and I.05.312; Athena at I.02.548 and I.04.128 and I.04.515; Artemis at O.20.061; Persephone at O.11.217; Ate at I.19.091; the Muses at I.02.491–492 (plural) and O.01.010 (singular); finally, Helen at O.04.227 (see the comment there). This epithet Dios thugatēr / thugatēr Dios ‘daughter of Zeus’ is cognate with Vedic Sanskrit divás duhitár- (/ duhitár- divás) ‘daughter of the sky[-god]’, epithet of Uṣas-, goddess of the dawn, whose name actually means ‘dawn’. The Greek divinities Ēōs and Helios—Ēōs means ‘Dawn’ and Hēlios means ‘Sun’—are comparable to (and cognate with) the Indic divinities Uṣas- ‘Dawn’ and Sūrya- ‘Sun’. In Homeric diction, however, Ēōs the goddess of the dawn is never described by the epithet thugatēr Dios ‘daughter of Zeus’, and this fact corresponds to another fact: Homeric tradition preserves no myth about Ēōs as a daughter of Zeus. Ēōs is conventionally described as rhododaktulos ‘rosy-fingered’, an epithet that has the same metrical shape as thugatēr Dios, uu–uu. For more on rhododaktulos as an epithet for Ēōs the goddess of the dawn, see the comment at O.12.1–010 on Ōkeanos.
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']
in a list of examples of eukhesthai + dative
analysis of the only two prayers addressed to more than one god (this and I.03.276ff.), in the context of analyzing the transformation of formula (A) – sacral – to (B) – secular – specifically with reference to pluralization of responders [MRBTP: 'ff']
in a list of examples of directly quoted prayers not concluded by formula (A)
analysis of the development of Greek posis compared with Vedic pati-
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
analysis of eukhos and kudos, here regarding their occurring in identical contexts
analysis of the development of Greek posis compared with Vedic pati-
example of the hand as a regular metonym of the warrior’s destructive force, biē
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.
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).
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.
Martin, R. P. 1993. The Language of Heroes: Speech and Performance in the Iliad. Ithaca.