 | The Best of the Achaeans Concepts of the Hero in Archaic Greek Poetry Revised Edition Gregory Nagy | |
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§1. Upon having their lifespan cut short by death, heroes receive as consolation the promise of immortality, but this state of immortality after death is located at the extremes of our universe, far removed from the realities of the here-and-now. We in this life have to keep reminding ourselves that the hero who died is still capable of pleasure, that he can still enjoy such real things as convivial feasts in the pleasant company of other youths like him. It is in this sort of spirit that the Banquet Song for Harmodios is composed, honoring the young man who had achieved the status of being worshiped as a hero by the Athenians for having died a tyrant killer:[1]
fi/ltaq' *(armo/di', ou)/ ti/ pou te/qnhkas,
nh/sois d' e)n maka/rwn se/ fasin ei)=nai,
i(/na per podw/khs *)axileu\s
*tudei/+dhn te/ fasi to\n e)sqlo\n *diomh/dea
Harmodios, most philos! Surely you are not at all dead,
but they say that you are on the Isles of the Blessed,
the same place where swift-footed Achilles is,
and they say that the worthy Diomedes,[2] son of Tydeus, is there too.
The perfect tense of the verb
ou)de\ ga\r oi(\ pro/tero/n pot' e)pe/lonto
qew=n d' e)c a)na/ktwn e)ge/nonq' ui(=es h(mi/qeoi,
a)/ponon ou)d' a)/fqiton ou)d' a)ki/ndunon bi/on
e)s gh=ras e)ci/konto tele/santes
Not even those who were before, once upon a time,
and who were born hêmitheoi as sons of the lord-gods,
not even they reached old age by bringing to a close a lifespan that is without toil, that is aphthitos [unfailing], that is without danger.
Not even heroes, then, have a bios 'lifespan' that is aphthitos'unfailing'; they too have to die before the immortality that is promised by the thrênoi comes true.[4]
§2. Even in the Aithiopis, the immortality reached by Achilles is not an immediate but a remote state: after death, the hero is permanently removed from the here-and-now of the Achaeans who mourn him. For them, the immediacy of Achilles after death has to take the form of a funeral (Aithiopis/Proclus p. 106.12-16 Allen), which includes not only such things as the singing of thrênoi over his body (ibid. 12-13) but also--even after Achilles has already been transported to his immortal state--the actual building of a funeral mound and the holding of funeral games in his honor (ibid. 15-16). I conclude, then, that even in the Aithiopis the immortality of Achilles is predicated on his death, which is the occasion for the thrênoisung by the Muses as a consolation for his death. In the Iliad, the theme of immortality is similarly predicated on the death of Achilles, but here the focus of consolation is not on the hero's afterlife, but rather, on the eternal survival of the epic that glorifies him.
§3. As we now proceed to examine the diction in which this theme is expressed, we must keep in mind the words in the thrênos of Simonides (523P): even the heroes themselves fail to have a bios 'lifespan' that is aphthitos 'unfailing'. In the Iliad, Achilles himself says that he will have no kleos if he leaves Troy and goes home to live on into old age (IX 414-416)--but that he will indeed have a kleos that is aphthiton 'unfailing' (IX 413) if he stays to fight at Troy and dies young.[1] The same theme of the eternity achieved by the hero within epicrecurs in Pindar's Isthmian 8, and again it is expressed with the same root phthi- as in aphthito-; he will have a kleos that is everlasting (cf. xxiv 93-94):
to\n me\n ou)de\ qano/nt' a)oidai/ ti li/pon
a)lla/ oi( para/ te pura\n ta/fon q' *(elikw/niai parqe/noi
sta/n, e)pi\ qrh=no/n te polu/famon e)/xean.
e)/doc' a)=ra kai\ a)qana/tois,
e)sqlo/n ge fw=ta kai\ fqi/menon u(/mnois qea=n dido/men
But when he [Achilles] died, the songs did not leave him,
but the Heliconian Maidens [Muses] stood by his funeral pyre and his funeral mound,
and they poured forth a thrênos that is very renowned.
And so the gods decided
to hand over the worthy man, dead as he was [phthimenos], to the songs of the goddesses [Muses].[2]
The key word of the moment, phthi-menos, which I translate here in the conventional mode as "dead," is formed from a root that also carries with it the inherited metaphorical force of vegetal imagery: phthi- inherits the meaning "wilt," as in karpoûphthisin 'wilting of the crops' (Pindar Paean 9.14).[3] Through the comparative method, we can recover kindred vegetal imagery in another derivative of the root, the epithet a-phthi-ton as it applies to the kleos of Achilles at IX 413.[4]
§4. As in the Iliad, the contrast in this Pindaric passage concerns
the mortality of Achilles and the immortality conferred by the songs of the
Muses. More specifically, Pindar's words are also implying that the epic of
Achilles amounts to an eternal outflow of the thrênos performed
for Achilles by the Muses themselves. In this light, let us now consider again
the Homeric evidence. In the Odyssey, the description of the funeral
that the Achaeans hold for Achilles includes such details as the
thrênos of the Muses (xxiv 60-61) and ends with the retrospective
thought that "in this way" (
§5. Up to now, I have been stressing the remoteness inherent in the concept of immortality after death, as we find it pictured in the formal discourse of the thrênos and then transposed into the narrative traditions of epic. In contrast to the remoteness of this immortality stands the stark immediacy of death, conveyed forcefully within the same medium of the thrênos and beyond. We are again reminded of the excerpt from the thrênos of Simonides, which says that even the bios'lifespan' of the heroes themselves fails to be aphthitos (523P). The latent vegetal imagery in this theme--that the life of man "wilts" like a plant--brings us now to yet another important contrast in the poetic representations of immortality and death. Traditional Hellenic poetry makes the opposition immortality/ death not only remote/immediate but also artificial/natural. To put it another way: death and immortality are presented in terms of nature and culture respectively.[1]
§6. In Iliad VI, Diomedes is about to attack Glaukos, but first he asks his opponent whether he is a god, not wishing at this time to fight an immortal (VI 119-143; see the words for "mortal"/"immortal" at 123, 142/128, 140 respectively). In response, Glaukos begins by saying:
*tudei/+dh mega/qume, ti/h geneh/n e)reei/neis;
oi(/h per fu/llwn geneh/, toi/h de\ kai\ a)ndrw=n.
fu/lla ta\ me/n t' a)/nemos xama/dis xe/ei, a)/lla de/ q' u(/lh
thleqo/wsa fu/ei, e)/aros d' e)pigi/gnetai w(/rh.
w(\s a)ndrw=n geneh/ h( me\n fu/ei h( d' a)polh/gei
Son of Tydeus, you with the great thûmos! Why do you ask about my geneê [lineage, line of birth]?[1]
The geneê of men is like the geneê of leaves.
Some leaves are shed on the earth by the wind,
while others are grown by the greening forest
--and the season of spring is at hand.
So also the geneê of men: one grows, another wilts.[2]
Here the life and death of mortals are being overtly compared to a natural process, the growing and wilting of leaves on trees.[3] In another such Homeric display of vegetal imagery, in this case spoken by the god Apollo himself as he talks about the human condition, this natural aspect of death is expressed specifically with the root phthi-:
ei) dh/ soi/ ge brotw=n e(/neka ptolemi/cw
deilw=n, oi(\ fu/lloisin e)oiko/tes a)/llote me/n te
zaflege/es tele/qousin, a)rou/rhs karpo\n e)/dontes,
a)/llote de\ fqinu/qousin a)kh/rioi
... if I should fight you on account of mortals,
the wretches, who are like leaves. At given times,
they come to their fullness, bursting forth in radiance,[4] eating the crops of the Earth,
while at other times they wilt [phthi-nuthousin], victims of fate.
§7. Let us straightway contrast the immortalized heroes on the Isles of the Blessed, whose abode flourishes with golden plant life (Pindar O.2.72-74; Thrênos fr. 129.5SM). Also, let us contrast the First Generation of Mankind, whose very essence is gold (W&D 109). The immortality of the Golden Age is specifically correlated with the suspension of a vegetal cycle: in the Golden Age (W&D 117-118) as on the Isles of the Blessed (W&D 172-173), the earth bears crops without interruption. The description of Elysium supplements this picture: in the state of immortality, there is simply no winter, nor any bad weather at all (iv 566-568).
§8. In these images, we see gold as a general symbol for the artificial
continuum of immortality, in opposition to the natural cycle of life and death
as symbolized by the flourishing and wilting of leaves on trees, where the
theme of wilting is conventionally denoted with derivatives of the root
phthi-. As we now set about to look for specific words that express this
cultural negation of the vegetal cycle, we come back again to the negative
epithet aphthito-. Let us begin with the
skêptron'scepter' of Agamemnon (I 245-246), by which Achilles
takes his mighty oath (I 234-244), and which is specifically described as
"gold-studded" (
a)ll' e)/k toi e)re/w kai\ e)pi\ me/gan o(/rkon o)mou=mai:
nai\ ma\ to/de skh=ptron, to\ me\n ou)/ pote fu/lla kai\ o)/zous
fu/sei, e)pei\ dh/ prw=ta tomh/n e)n o)/ressi le/loipen,
ou)d' a)naqhlh/sei: peri\ ga/r r(a/ e( xalko\s e)/leye
fu/lla te kai\ floio/n. nu=n au)=te/ min ui(=es *)axaiw=n
e)n pala/mh|s fore/ousi dikaspo/loi
But*i will say to you and swear a great oath:
I swear by this skêptron, which will no longer ever grow leaves and shoots,
ever since it has left its place where it was cut down on the mountaintops--
and it will never bloom again, for Bronze has trimmed its leaves and bark.
But now the sons of the Achaeans hold it in their hands as they carry out dikai.
Achilles is here swearing not only by the skêptron but also in terms of what the skêptron is--a thing of nature that has been transformed into a thing of culture.[2] The Oath of Achilles is meant to be just as permanent and irreversible as the process of turning a shaft of living wood into a social artifact.[3] And just as the skêptron is imperishable 'aphthiton', so also the Oath of Achilles is eternally valid, in that Agamemnon and the Achaeans will permanently regret not having given the hero of the Iliad his due tîmê (I 240-244).
§9. For another Homeric instance featuring aphthito- as an epithet suitable for situations where the natural cycle of flourishing and wilting is negated, let us consider the Island of the Cyclopes. In Odyssey ix 116-141, this island and the mainland facing it are described in a manner that would suit the ideal Hellenic colony and its ideal peraiâ respectively,[1] if it were not for two special circumstances: the mainland is inhabited by Cyclopes, who are devoid of civilization (ix 106-115), while the island itself is populated by no one at all--neither by humans nor even by Cyclopes, since they cannot navigate (ix 123-125). At the very mention of navigation, there now follows a "what-if" narrative about the idealized place that the Island would become if it were colonized (ix 126-129).[2] If only there were ships (ix 126-127), and these ships reached the Island, there would be commerce (ix 127-129), and then there would also be agriculture, yielding limitless crops (ix 130-135). What is more, the grapevines produced by this ideal never-never land would be aphthitoi 'unfailing' (ix 133). Thus if culture rather than nature prevailed on the Island of the Cyclopes, then its local wine would bear the mark of immortality. Again we see the epithet aphthito- denoting permanence in terms of culture imposed on nature.
§10. In fact, the epithet aphthito- functions as a mark of not only culture but even cult itself. In the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, the infant Demophon is destined by the goddess to have a tîmê'cult' that is aphthitos (H.Dem. 261, 263), and this boon is contrasted directly with the certainty that he is not to avoid death (H.Dem. 262).[1] As Demophon's substitute mother, Demeter had actually been preparing him for a life that is never to be interrupted by death (H.Dem. 242, 261-262), but the inadvertence of the infant's real mother had brought that plan to naught (H.Dem. 243-258). Still, Demophon is destined by the goddess to achieve immortality on the level of cult, so that her preparation of the infant was not in vain. We in fact catch a glimpse of the child's destiny as a hero of cult in the following description of how the goddess had been preparing him to be immortal:
e)/trefen e)n mega/rois: o( d' a)e/ceto dai/moni i)=sos
ou)/t' ou)=n si=ton e)/dwn, ou) qhsa/menos
...
xri/esk' a)mbrosi/h| w(s ei) qeou= e)kgegaw=ta,
h(du\ katapnei/ousa kai\ e)n ko/lpoisin e)/xousa:[2]
nu/ktas de\ kru/pteske puro\s me/nei h)u/+te dalo\n
la/qra fi/lwn gone/wn: toi=s de\ me/ga qau=m' e)te/tukto
w(s proqalh/s tele/qeske, qeoi=si de\ a)/nta e)w/|kei
She nurtured him in the palace, and he grew up like a daimôn,
not eating food, not sucking from the breast
...
She used to anoint him with ambrosia, as if he had been born of the goddess,[3]
and she would breathe down her sweet breath on him as she held him at her bosom.
At nights she would conceal him within the menos of fire,[4] as if he were a smoldering log,[5]
and his parents were kept unaware. But they marveled
at how full in bloom he came to be, and to look at him was like looking at the gods.
The underscored phrase at verse 235, meaning "and he grew up like a daimôn," contains a word that we have in fact already seen in the specific function of designating heroes on the level of cult (Hesiod W&D 122, Th. 991).[6]
§11. This same underscored phrase, as Sinos points out,[1] has an important formal parallel in the Iliad:[2]
w)/ moi e)gw\ deilh/, w)/ moi dusaristoto/keia,
h(/ t' e)pei\ a)\r te/kon ui(o\n a)mu/mona/ te kratero/n te,
e)/coxon h(rw/wn: o( d' a)ne/dramen e)/rnei+ i)=sos
to\n me\n e)gw\ qre/yasa, futo\n w(\s gounw=| a)lwh=s,
nhusi\n e)piproe/hka korwni/sin *)/ilion ei)/sw
*trwsi\ maxhso/menon: to\n d' ou)x u(pode/comai au)=tis
oi)/kade nosth/santa do/mon *phlh/i+on ei)/sw.
Ah me, the wretch! Ah me, the mother--so sad it is--of the very best.
I gave birth to a faultless and strong son,
the very best of heroes.[3] And he shot up like a seedling.[4]
I nurtured him[5] like a shoot in the choicest spot of the orchard,[6]
only to send him off on curved ships to fight at Troy. And I will never be welcoming him back home as returning warrior, back to the House of Peleus.
The context of these words is an actual lamentation (goos: XVIII 51), sung by the mother of Achilles himself over the death of her son[7] --a death that is presupposed by the narrative from the very moment that the death of the hero's surrogate Patroklos is announced to him.[8]
§12. It appears, then, that the mortality of a cult figure like Demophon is a theme that calls for the same sort of vegetal imagery as is appropriate to the mortality of Achilles. The examples can be multiplied: like the hero of the Iliad, who is likened to a young shoot with words like phuton (XVIII 57, 438) and ernos (XVIII 56,437),[1] the hero of the Hymn to Demeter is directly called a neon thalos'young sprout' (H.Dem. 66, 187).[2] Moreover, we have seen that this theme of mortality common to Demophon and Achilles is replete with the same sort of imagery that we find specifically in the genre of lamentation (consider again the goos of Thetis, XVIII 54-60).[3]
§13. In this light, let us reconsider the epithet aphthito-. We have already seen that it conveys the cultural negation of a natural process, the growing and the wilting of plants, and also, by extension, the life and the death of mortals. Now we must examine how this epithet conveys the theme of immortality in its application to Demophon and Achilles as heroes of cult and epic respectively. As compensation for the death that he cannot escape, Demophon gets a tîmê that is aphthitos (H.Dem. 261, 263); likewise, Achilles gets a kleos that is aphthiton (IX 413). Thus both heroes are destined for immortality in the form of a cultural institution that is predicated on the natural process of death. For Demophon, this predication is direct but implicit: by getting tîmê he is incorporated into hero cult, a general institution that is implicitly built around the basic principle that the hero must die.[1] For the Achilles of our Iliad, this same predication is explicit but indirect: by getting kleos he is incorporated into epic, which is presented by epic itself as an eternal extension of the lamentation sung by the Muses over the hero's death (xxiv 60-61, 93-94).[2] Thus the specific institution of lamentation, which is an aspect of hero-cult and which is implicit in the very name of Achilles, leads to the kleos of epic. For both heroes, the key to immortality is the permanence of the cultural institutions into which they are incorporated--cult for Demophon, epic for the Achilles of our Iliad. Both manifestations of both institutions qualify as aphthito-.
§14. For the Achilles of our Iliad, the kleos aphthiton of epic (IX 413) offers not only an apparatus of heroic immortality but also a paradox about the human condition of the hero. Achilles himself says that the way for him to achieve this kleos aphthiton is to die at Troy (IX 412-413), and that the way to lose kleos is to live life as a mortal, at home in Phthîê (IX 413-416). The overt Iliadic contrast of kleos aphthiton with the negation of kleos in the context of Phthîê is remarkable in view of the element phthi- contained by the place name. From the wording of Iliad IX 412-416, we are led to suspect that this element phthi- is either a genuine formant of Phthîêor is at least perceived as such in the process of Homeric composition. We see the actual correlation of the intransitive verb phthi- (middle endings) 'perish' with Phthîê at XIX 328-330, where Achilles is wishing that he alone had died at Troy and that his surrogate Patroklos had lived to come home. Again, coming home to Phthîê (XIX 330) is overtly contrasted with dying 'phthîsesthai' at Troy (XIX 329).[1] If indeed the name for the homeland of Achilles is motivated by the theme of vegetal death as conveyed by the root phthi-, then the traditional epithet reserved for the place is all the more remarkable: Phthîê is bôtianeira 'nourisher of men' (I 155). The combination seems to produce a coincidentia oppositorum,[2] in that the place name conveys the death of plants while its epithet conveys the life of plants--as it sustains the life of mortals. The element bôti- in this compound bôti-aneira stems from the verb system of boskô 'nourish', a word that specifically denotes the sustenance, by vegetation, of grazing animals, as at xiv 102, and of men, as at xi 365. In the latter instance, the object of the verb boskei 'nourishes' is anthrôpous 'men', and the subject is actually gaîa 'Earth'.[3] Thus the life and death of mortal men is based on the life and death of the plants that are grown for their nourishment: this is the message of the epithet bôtianeira in its application to the homeland of Achilles. Phthîê is the hero's local Earth, offering him the natural cycle of life and death as an alternative to his permanent existence within the cultural medium of epic.
§15. In the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, the foil for the permanence of cult as a cultural institution is also expressed by way of vegetal imagery: this time the image that we are considering is not the prolonged life but the prolonged death of plants, as denoted by the root phthi-. In contrast with the application of aphthito- to the tîmê of Demophon, let us consider the wording of the myth that tells how the permanence of all cult was endangered when the goddess Demeter prolonged indefinitely the failure of plant life:
e)pei\ me/ga mh/detai e)/rgon
fqi=sai fu=l) a)menhna\ xamaigene/wn a)nqrw/pwn
spe/rm' u(po\ gh=s kru/ptousa, katafqinu/qousa de\ tima\s a)qana/twn
For she [Demeter] is performing[1] a mighty deed,
to destroy [phthî-sai] the tribes of earth-born men, causing them to be witout menos,
by hiding the Seed underground--and she is destroying [kata-phthi-nuthousa] the tîmai of the immortal gods.
First, we are shown what the prolonged death of vegetation does to mortals, and we start with the adjective amenêna 'without menos' at verse 352, derived from the noun menos 'power.'[2] This epithet is proleptic, in that it anticipates what Demeter does to mortals by virtue of taking away the sustenance of vegetation: she thereby takes away their menos, and this action is here equated with the action of phthîsai at verse 352, meaning "destroy" or, from the metaphorical standpoint of human life as plant life, "cause [plants] to fail."[3] In Homeric diction, the intransitive uses of the same verb phthi- can designate the failing of wine supplies (ix 163) and of food supplies (xii 329); when the food supplies fail, katephthito, the menea of men who eat them fail also (iv 363). Second, we are shown what the prolonged death of vegetation does to the immortal gods: again, the action of Demeter is designated with the verb phthi- (kataphthinuthousa, verse 353), but here the image of plant failure applies not to the gods directly but to their tîmai 'cults' instead. The impact of prolonged plant failure on cult is explicit:
kai/ nu/ ke pa/mpan o)/lesse ge/nos mero/pwn a)nqrw/pwn
limou= u(p' a)rgale/hs, gera/wn t' e)rikude/a timh/n
kai\ qusiw=n h)/mersen *)olu/mpia dw/mat' e)/xontas
She [Demeter] would have completely destroyed the genos of meropes men
with the painful famine, and she would have taken away from the gods who live in their Olympian abode
the tîmê of honorific portions and sacrifices.[4]
We see, then, that the indefinite perpetuation of vegetal death as expressed by phthi- is a natural image of cosmic disorder; it functions as a foil for the cultural image of cosmic order, as represented by the indefinite perpetuation of vegetal life and as expressed by aphthito-. We also see now more clearly the suitability of this epithet aphthito- for the function of defining not only cult in particular but also the eternal cosmic apparatus of the immortal gods in general.[5]
§16. The cosmic order of the Olympians is of course not only
permanent but also sacred, and in fact both these qualities are
conveyed by the same epithet aphthito-.[1] As we see from the Hesiodic tradition,
nothing is more sacred or binding for the Olympians than taking an oath in the
name of the Styx (Th. 793-805), and the river's waters in this
particular context are specifically called aphthito-
(
§17. So also Achilles swears by the skêptron of King Agamemnon (I 234-239), affirming both that the Achaeans will one day yearn for him and that Agamemnon will then regret not having given "the best of the Achaeans" his due tîmê (I 240-244). Here we must keep in mind that the skêptron itself is aphthiton(II 46, 186). Accordingly, the Oath of Achilles is not only permanent in its validity but also sacred. Moreover, the wish that the mother of Achilles conveys from the hero to Zeus is phrased from the standpoint of the Oath: let the Achaeans be hard pressed without the might of Achilles, and let their king regret not having given the hero his due tîmê (I 409-412). It is this wish that Thetis presents to Zeus (I 503-510), with special emphasis on the tîmê of Achilles (I 505, 507, 508, 510bis), and it is this wish that Zeus ratifies irrevocably (I 524-530). In this way, the Oath of Achilles is translated into the Will of Zeus, which, as we have seen, is the self-proclaimed plot of our Iliad.[1] The oath is sacred because it is founded on the skêptron, which is aphthiton; now we see that the epic validating the tîmê of Achilles is also sacred, for the very reason that it is founded on this Oath. Accordingly, the epithet aphthito- as it applies to the kleos of Achilles (IX 413) conveys not only the permanence of the hero's epic but also its intrinsic sacredness as conferred by the essence of the hero's Oath.
§18. The traditional application of aphthito- to both the cult of Demophon and the epic of Achilles serves as a key to what is for us a missing theme in the archaic story of Achilles. In the case of Demophon, we have seen how the hero gets a tîmê that is aphthitos because the goddess swears by the Styx, which is itself aphthitos. We have yet to follow through, however, on what such a combination of Stux and aphthitos implies: that the waters of the Styx are an elixir of life.[1] The lore about the cosmic stream Styx applies commensurately to the actual stream Styx in Arcadia,[2] and in fact the belief prevails to this day that whoever drinks of that stream's waters under the right conditions may gain immortality.[3] The point is that there survives for us a story telling how Thetis had immersed the infant Achilles into the waters of the Styx, in an unsuccessful attempt to exempt him from death (Statius Achilleid 1.269; Servius ad Virgil Aeneid 6.57; etc.). This failure of Thetis must be compared with the failure of Demeter in her attempt to make Demophon immortal. It would indeed be conventional for scholars to consider the story of Achilles in the Styx as a parallel to that of Demophon in the fire, if it were not for the fact that there is no attestation of such an Achilles story in archaic poetry.[4] This obstacle may now perhaps be overcome with the indirect testimony of the epithet aphthito-: for both Demophon and Achilles, this word marks a compensatory form of immortality, and the Stygian authority of this deathlessness is overt in the case of Demophon. In the case of Achilles, we may say that the authority of the skêptron is a worthy variation on the authority of the Stux, in that both skêptron and Stux are intrinsically aphthito-. From the standpoint of diction, either could ratify the kleos of Achilles as aphthiton.
§19. As our lengthy survey of the word aphthito- in Homeric and Hesiodic diction comes to an end, we conclude that this epithet can denote the permanent and sacred order of the Olympians,[1] into which the hero is incorporated after death through such cultural media as epic in particular and cult in general.
§20. It remains to ask a more important question: whether the theme of the
hero immortalized in cult is compatible with the poetic visions of the hero
immortalized by being transported to Elysium, to the Isles of the Blessed, or
even to Olympus itself. Rohde, for one, thought that the concept of heroes
being transported into a remote state of immortality is purely poetic and thus
alien to the religious concept of heroes being venerated in cult.[1] From the actual evidence of cult, however, we
see that the two concepts are not at all treated as if they were at odds with
each other.[2] In fact, the forms
Êlusion 'Elysium' and Makarôn
nêsoi'Isles of the Blessed' are appropriate as names for actual cult
sites. The proper noun Êlusion coincides with
the common noun en-êlusion, meaning 'place made sacred by
virtue of being struck by the thunderbolt' (Polemon fr. 5 Tresp);
correspondingly, the adjective en-êlusios means 'made
sacred by virtue of being struck by the thunderbolt' (Aeschylus fr. 17N
= fr. 263M).[3] The form
Êlusion itself is glossed in the Alexandrian
lexicographical tradition (Hesychius) as
§21. We are in fact now ready to examine the general evidence of poetic traditions, in order to test whether the medium of poetry distinguishes this concept of heroes (or heroines) being transported into a state of immortality from the concept of their being venerated in cult. As with the evidence of cult itself, we will find that poetic diction reveals no contradiction between these two concepts.
§22. Actually, there are poetic themes that tell of a hero's actual veneration in cult, and these themes are even combined with those that tell of his translation into immortality. Such combinations in fact form an integral picture of the heroic afterlife, as in the Hesiodic version of the Phaethon myth:[1]
au)ta/r toi *kefa/lw| fitu/sato fai/dimon ui(o/n,
i)/fqimon *fae/qonta, qeoi=s e)piei/kelon a)/ndra.
to/n r(a ne/on te/ren a)/nqos e)/xont' e)rikude/os h(/bhs
pai=d' a)tala\ frone/onta filommeidh/s *)afrodi/th
w)=rt' a)nereiyame/nh, kai/ min zaqe/ois e)ni\ nhoi=s
nhopo/lon mu/xion poih/sato, dai/mona di=on
And she [Eos] sprouted for Kephalos an illustrious son,
sturdy Phaethon, a man who looked like the gods.
When he was young and still had the tender bloom of glorious adolescence,
Aphrodite philommeidês[2] rushed up and snatched him away as he was thinking playful thoughts.
And she made him an underground temple attendant, a dîos daimôn, in her holy temple.
Phaethon in the afterlife is overtly presented as a daimôn of cult (Th. 991) who functions within an undisturbed corner plot, mukhos, of Aphrodite's precinct (hence mukhios at Th. 991)[3] as the goddess's nêopolos 'temple attendant' (again Th. 991). The designation of Phaethon as daimôn also conveys the immortal aspect of the hero in his afterlife, since it puts him in the same category as the Golden Generation, who are themselves explicitly daimones (W&D 122).[4] As for the mortal aspect of Phaethon, we may observe the vegetal imagery surrounding his birth and adolescence. When he is about to be snatched away forever, he bears the anthos 'bloom' of adolescence (Th. 988). Earlier, the verb that denotes his very birth from Eos is phîtûsato (Th. 986): the Dawn Goddess "sprouted" him as if he were some plant. We see here in the Theogony the only application of phîtûein 'sprout' to the act of reproduction, which is elsewhere conventionally denoted by tiktein and geinasthai.[5] The most immediate parallel is the birth of the Athenian hero Erekhtheus, who was directly sprouted by Earth herself:
o(/n pot' *)aqh/nh
qre/ye *dio\s quga/thr, te/ke de\ zei/dwros a)/roura,
ka\d d' e)n *)aqh/nh|s ei(=sen, e(w=| e)n pi/oni nhw=|.
e)/nqa de/ min tau/roisi kai\ a)rneioi=s i(la/ontai
kou=roi *)aqhnai/wn peritellome/nwn e)niautw=n
*a thena the daughter of Zeus once upon a time
nurtured him, but grain-giving earth gave him birth,[6]
and she [Athena] established him in Athens, in her own rich temple,
and there it is that the koûroi of the Athenians supplicate him,
every year when the time comes, with bulls and lambs.
As with Phaethon, the immortal aspect of the hero Erekhtheus is conveyed by his permanent installation within the sacred precinct of a goddess.[7]
§23. We have yet to examine the actual process of Phaethon's translation into heroic immortality.[1] The key word is the participle anereipsamenê (Th. 990), describing Aphrodite at the moment that she snatches Phaethon away to be with her forever. The word recurs in the finite form anêreipsanto (XX 234), describing the gods as they abduct Ganymedes to be the cup bearer of Zeus for all time to come. In the next verse, we hear the motive for the divine action:
ka/lleos ei(/neka oi(=o, i(/n' a)qana/toisi metei/h
on account of his beauty, so that he might be among the Immortals.
The Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite elaborates on the same myth: it was Zeus himself who abducted Ganymedes (H.Aphr. 202-203). Here too, the motive is presented as the same:
o(\n dia\ ka/llos, i(/n' a)qana/toisi metei/h
on account of his beauty, so that he might be among the Immortals.
In this retelling as well as in all the others, Ganymedes becomes the cup bearer of Zeus; and as such he abides in the gods' royal palace at Olympus (H.Aphr. 204-206). By virtue of gaining Olympian status, he is in fact described as an Immortal himself:
a)qa/natos kai\ a)gh/rws i)=sa qeoi=sin
immortal and unaging, just as the gods are.[2]
As cup bearer and boy-love of Zeus, Ganymedes also qualifies as a daimôn:
paidofilei=n de/ ti terpno/n, e)pei/ pote kai\ *ganumh/dous
h)/rato kai\ *kroni/dhs a)qana/twn basileu/s,
a(rpa/cas d' e)s *)/olumpon a)nh/gage kai/ min e)/qhken
dai/mona, paidei/hs a)/nqos e)/xont' e)rato/n
Loving a boy is a pleasant thing. For even the Son of Kronos,
king of the Immortals, loved Ganymedes.
He abducted him, took him up to Olympus,[3] and made him
a daimôn, having the lovely bloom of boyhood.
The parallelisms between this Theognidean passage about Ganymedes and the Hesiodic passage about Phaethon (Th. 986-991) are remarkable not just because of the convergences in detail (both heroes are described as daimôn, both have the anthos 'bloom' of youth, etc.). An even more remarkable fact about these parallelisms is that the processes of preservation on Olympus and preservation in cult function as equivalent poetic themes.
§24. The parallelisms between the myth of Ganymedes and that of Phaethon lead to our discovery of further details about the process of heroic preservation. When the gods abducted 'anêreipsanto' the young Ganymedes (XX 234), the specific instrument of the divine action was a gust of wind, an aella:
... o(/pph| oi( fi/lon ui(o\n a)nh/rpase qe/spis a)/ella
... to whatever place the wondrous aella abducted him
Actually, in every other Homeric attestation of anêreipsanto besides XX 234, the notion "gusts of wind" serves as subject of the verb.[1] When Penelope mourns the unknown fate of her absent son Telemachus, she says:
nu=n au)= pai=d' a)gaphto\n a)nhrei/yanto qu/ellai
But now the thuellai have abducted my beloved son.
When Telemachus mourns the unknown fate of his absent father Odysseus, he says:[2]
nu=n de/ min a)kleiw=s a(/rpuiai a)nhrei/yanto
But now the harpuiai have abducted him, without kleos.
§25. The meaning of thuella 'gust of wind' is certain (see the collocation of thuella with anemoio 'of wind' at VI 346, etc.). As for harpuia, a word that is also personified as "Harpy" (Th. 267),[1] the same meaning "gust of wind" is apparent from the only remaining Homeric attestation of the verb anêreipsanto 'abducted'. After Penelope wishes that Artemis smite her dead and take her thûmosimmediately, we hear her make an alternative wish:
h)\ e)/peita/ m' a)narpa/casa qu/ella
oi)/xoito profe/rousa kat' h)ero/enta ke/leuqa,
e)n proxoh=|s de\ ba/loi a)yorro/ou *)wkeanoi=o
or later, may a thuella abduct me;
may it go off and take me away along misty ways,
and plunge me into the streams of Okeanos, which flows in a circle.
As precedent for being abducted by a gust of wind and cast down into the Okeanos, her words evoke the story about the daughters of Pandareos:
w(s d' o(/te *pandare/ou kou/ras a)ne/lonto qu/ellai
as when the thuellai took away the daughters of Pandareos
This mention of abduction is followed by a description of how the Pandareids were preserved by the Olympian goddesses (xx 67-72). The preservation of the girls is then interrupted by death, at the very moment that Aphrodite is arranging for them to be married (xx 73-74). Death comes in the form of abduction:
to/fra de\ ta\s kou/ras a(/rpuiai a)nhrei/yanto
then the harpuiai abducted the girls[2]
§26. Our survey has by now covered all the Homeric/Hesiodic attestations of anêreipsanto/anereipsamenê, and we can reach several conclusions. Most important of all, we see that the divine abduction of mortals by gusts of wind (thuellai or harpuiai) entails not only preservation but also sex and death.[1] Of these last two experiences, we will leave the first in abeyance until we confront the second.
§27. In the imagery of passages featuring the forms anêreipsanto/ anereipsamenê, you experience death when the abducting winds plunge you into the earth-encircling river Okeanos. So we have seen from Penelope's death wish (xx 63-65). As we see further from Homeric diction, especially at xxiv 1-14, the Okeanos is one of the prime mythical boundaries that serve to delimit light from darkness, life from death, wakefulness from sleep, consciousness from unconsciousness.[1] The River Okeanos marks the cosmic extremities beyond Earth and Seas (cf. XIV 301-302). The Sun himself, Helios, plunges into it every sunset (VIII 485) and emerges from it every sunrise (VII 421-423, xix 433-434). As the Sun thus rises at Dawn from the Okeanos, he stirs the arourai 'fertile lands' (VII 421, xix 433),[2] and we are reminded by this action that the noun aroura itself traditionally attracts such epithets of fertility as zeidôros'grain-giving' (II 548, VIII 486, etc.).[3] Since plunging into the Okeanos overtly conveys death (xx 63-65), it follows that the notion of emerging from it conveys regeneration. For the Sun, we infer that regeneration through Okeanos is cosmic, bringing with it the fertility of Earth itself; in fact, Okeanos qualifies not only as theôn genesin 'genesis of gods' (XIV 201, 302) but even as genesis pantessi 'genesis for all things' (XIV 246).
§28. In this light, it becomes significant that the Okeanos is also a traditional landmark both for the Isles of the Blessed (W&D 171) and for Elysium itself (iv 567-568). What is more, the Okeanos in the context of Elysium has the specific function of reanimating mortals:[1]
a)ll' ai)ei\ *zefu/roio ligu\ pnei/ontos a)h/tas
*)wkeano\s a)ni/hsin a)nayu/xein a)nqrw/pous
but the Okeanos sends up the gusts of shrill-blowing Zephyros
at all times, so as to reanimate men[2]
On the basis, then, of incidental references to the Sun and its movements in epic diction, we can detect a solar model of death and regeneration--both through the Okeanos. Moreover, we see that this solar model applies to the general theme of the hero's return from death. As we now look for specific instances of this theme, we turn to the myths about the personification of sunrise, Eos. In doing so we also confront a third theme in the myths of abduction: having already noted death and preservation, we are ready to reckon with a theme of sex.
§29. There is an archaic tradition that features the Dawn Goddess Eos herself abducting young male mortals, and her motive is in part sexual.[1] In the Odyssey, the immortal nymph Kalypso cites the abduction of Orion by Eos as a precedent for her mating with Odysseus (v 121-124). Similarly, Aphrodite herself cites both the abduction of Ganymedes by Zeus and the abduction of Tithonos by Eos as precedents for her mating with Anchises (H.Aphr. 202-238). As for the abduction of Phaethon, again by Aphrodite, the precedent is built into the young hero's genealogy: his father Kephalos had been abducted by his mother Eos (Th. 986; Euripides Hippolytus 455).
§30. As with the myth of Aphrodite and Phaethon, the myths of Eos too are marked by the design of making the hero immortal. Thus when Eos abducts Kleitos, her motive is described in these words:
ka/lleos ei(/neka oi(=o, i(/n' a)qana/toisi metei/h
on account of his beauty, so that he might be among the Immortals
The very same words, as we have seen, mark the immortalization of Ganymedes after his abduction by Zeus (XX 235; cf. H.Aphr. 203).[1] The divine motive for abduction by Eos is thus both preservative and sexual.[2]
§31. In order to see at a closer range the operation of a solar model in the myths of divine abduction, let us return to the Hesiodic myth of Phaethon (Th. 986-991).[1] The form of his name in Homeric diction serves as an actual epithet of Hêlios the Sun (as at XI 735). What is more, his mother is Êôs the Dawn (Th. 986), while the goddess who abducted him embodies regeneration itself, Aphrodite (Th. 988-991).
§32. On the level of celestial dynamics, these associations imply the theme of a setting sun mating with the goddess of regeneration so that the rising sun may be reborn. Let us pursue this scheme--so far hypothetical only--one step further: if the setting sun is the same as the rising sun, then the goddess of regeneration may be viewed as both mate and mother. Such an ambivalent relationship actually survives in the hymns of the Rig-Veda, where the goddess of solar regeneration, Us.as- 'Dawn', is the wife or bride of the sun god Sûrya- (RV 1.115.2, 7.75.5, etc.) as well as his mother (RV 7.63.3, 7.78.3). In the latter instance, the incestuous implications are attenuated by putting Us.as- into the plural, representing a succession of dawns. Similarly, Us.as- in the plural can designate the wives of Sûrya- (4.5.13). Yet even if each succeeding dawn is wife of the preceding dawn's son, the husband and son are always one and the same Sûrya- and the basic theme of incest remains.
§33. There is more than one reason for comparing these Indic traditions about Sûrya- 'Sun' and Us.as- 'Dawn' to such Greek traditions as we see in the myth of Phaethon. First and most obvious, the actual forms Sûrya- and Us.as- are cognate with Hêlios 'Sun' and Êôs 'Dawn'.[1] Second, there are instances in Homeric diction where the relationship of the forms Êôs and Phaethôn is directly parallel to the relationship of Rig-Vedic Us.as- and Sûrya- Besides being an epithet of Hêlios (XI 735, etc.), the form Phaethôn also functions as a name for one of the two horses of Êôs:
*la/mpon kai\ *fae/qonq' oi(/ t' *)hw= pw=loi a)/gousi
Lampos and Phaethôn, who are the horses that pull Êôs
We may note that Lampos, the name of her other horse, is also associated with the notion of brightness. The Rig-Vedic parallel here is that Sûrya- the sun god is called the "bright horse," svetám ... ásvam, of the Dawn Goddess Us.as- (RV 7.77.3; cf. 7.78.4). There is also, within Homeric diction itself, an internal analogue to the combination of Phaethôn and Lampos at xxiii 246. The names for the daughters of Hêlios the sun god are Phaethousa and Lampetiê (xii 132), which are feminine equivalents of Phaethôn and Lampos.[2] The Rig-Vedic parallel here is that the name for the daughter of Sûrya- the sun god is Sûryâ (RV 1.116.17), a feminine equivalent of the masculine name. The comparative evidence of this contextual nexus suggests that the Horses of the Dawn at xxiii 246 had once been metaphorical aspects of the Sun. As in the Rig-Veda, the Sun could have been called the bright horse of the Dawn--by such names as Phae- thôn or Lampos. Once the metaphor is suspended, then the notion "Horse of the Dawn" becomes reorganized: if the Dawn has a horse, she will actually have not one but two for a chariot team, and the two kindred solar aspects Phaethôn 'bright' and Lampos'bright' will do nicely as names for two distinct horses. Yet the surviving function of Phaethousa and Lampetiê as daughters of Helios serves as testimony for the eroded personal connotations of the names Phaethôn and Lampos. By contrast, the metaphor is maintained in the Rig-Veda, where Sûrya- the sun god is both bridegroom and horse of the dawn goddess Us.as-. There is even a special word that conveys both functions of Sûrya- namely márya- (RV 1.115.2, 7.76.3). In fact, the metaphorical equation of horse and bridegroom is built into various rituals of Indic society, such as that of initiation, and a key to this equation is the same word márya- and its Iranian cognate.[3]
§34. Significantly, there is a corresponding Greek attestation of such a metaphorical equation, in the context of a wedding song:
*(umh/n *(umh/n:
ta\n *dio\s ou)rani/an a)ei/domen,
ta\n e)rw/twn po/tnian, ta\n