 | The Best of the Achaeans Concepts of the Hero in Archaic Greek Poetry Revised Edition Gregory Nagy | |
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§1. Having just seen how the neîkos 'quarrel' between Hesiod and Perses (W&D 35) serves as the context for a grand definition of dikê by way of its opposition to hubris,[1] we return one last time to the neîkos between Odysseus and Achilles (Odyssey viii 75) in the first song of Demodokos (viii 72-82). This quarrel too serves as a context for defining one theme, the mêtis 'artifice' of Odysseus, by opposing it to another theme, the biê 'might' of Achilles.[2] But here it is not simply a matter of choosing between negative and positive, as with hubris and dikê. True, the mêtis of Odysseus is vindicated as the heroic resource that will lead to the ultimate capture of Troy. But the biê of Achilles is also vindicated by the events of traditional epic narrative, in that the Achaeans survived to capture Troy only because they had been rescued earlier by Patroklos/Achilles from the onslaught of Hektor.[3] The kleos of Achilles as the best of the Achaeans in the Iliad is achieved because the Achaeans are doomed without his biê. For his own kleos as best of the Achaeans in the Odyssey,[4] even Odysseus will need to have biê against the suitors. When they fail in their attempts to string the bow of Odysseus, the suitors themselves must recognize the hero's superiority in biê:
pollÚn d¢ b¤hw §pideu°ew …san
and they were by far inferior in biê
éll' eÞ dÆ tossÒnde b¤hw §pideu°ew eÞm¢n
éntiy°ou ÉOdusƒow
but if indeed we are so inferior in biê
to godlike Odysseus
In Penelope's own conditional words, the disguised Odysseus would have to use his biê in order to string the bow (xxi 314-315) and thereby win her as wife (xxi 316). Odysseus is of course not only about to string the bow, thus fulfilling the condition set down by Penelope. He will also kill the suitors with it.
§2. We may proceed, then, with the understanding that biê is a key to the kleos of Achilles/Odysseus in the Iliad/Odyssey. Now we are about to see that it is also a key element in epic traditions about other prominent heroes. In the case of Herakles, for example, the theme of biê is actually embodied in the hero's identity, since he is conventionally named not only as Hêra-kleês but also as biê + adjective of Hêrakleês:[1]
| nominative | b¤h ÑHraklhe¤h | XI 690; Hes.Th. 289, 982, fr. 35.1(MW) |
| genitive | b¤hw ÑHraklhe¤hw | II 666; Hes.Th. 332; fr. 33(a)25, 30 |
| dative | b¤™ ÑHraklhe¤™ | II 658, XV 640; Hes.Th. 315, fr. 25.18, 165.9 |
| accusative | b¤hn ÑHraklhe¤hn | V 638, XIX 98, xi 601; Hes.Th. 943, fr. 33(a)23 |
The fact that a full declension of this periphrastic naming construct biê + adjective of Hêrakleês is attested in the diction of archaic hexameter poetry is itself striking evidence, on the level of form, that the Herakles figure and biê are traditionally linked on the level of theme.[2] Since the very name Hêra-kleês 'he who has the kleos of Hera' embodies the theme of glory through epic,[3] the traditional combination of biê with kleos in the periphrastic naming construct biê + adjective of Hêra-kleês is a formal indication that biê is a traditional epic theme. In fact, other heroic names built with kleos are also found in the same naming construct:
| biê + adjective of Eteo-kleês (-klos)[4] | = ÉEteoklhe¤h | IV 386 |
| biê + adjective of Iphi-kleês (-klos)[5] | = ÉIfiklhe¤h | xi 290, 296 |
| Cf. | ||
| biê + genitive of Patro-kleês (-klos)[6] | = PatrÒkloio | XVII 187, XXII 323 |
§3. The heroic resource of biê, then, has a distinctly positive aspect as a key to the hero's kleos. Nevertheless, it has a disquieting negative aspect as well. For our first example, let us turn again to the Odyssey. Whereas Odysseus uses biê to kill the suitors, the overall behavior of the suitors themselves in the course of the Odyssey is also characterized as biê (e.g., xxiii 31). Moreover, the biê of the suitors in the House of Odysseus is equated with hubris (xv 329, xvii 565). This noun hubris characterizes not only the outrageous behavior of the suitors (xvi 86, xxiv 352) but also that of the blood-crazed warriors belonging to Generation III of mankind (Hesiod W&D 146).[1] In fact, the hubris of Generation III is correlated with their biê (W&D 148).[2] Furthermore, the hubris that characterizes the blood-crazed warriors of Generation III is in direct opposition to the dikê of the noble Generation IV warriors (W&D 158).[3] We come back, then, to our point of departure, the negative/positive opposition of hubris/dikê as dramatized by the neîkos of Perses and Hesiod (W&D 35). We now see that biê itself has a negative aspect, an element of hubris. In this way, biê can even be contrasted directly with dikê:
ka¤ nu d¤khw §pãkoue, b¤hw d' §pilÆyeo pãmpan
Listen to dikê! Forget biê entirely!
§4. The ambivalence of biê is also reflected by the Iliad. Only here it is not a matter of assigning good and bad biê to good and bad characters respectively. Rather, the good/bad ambivalence of biê is built into one character, Achilles himself. The good aspect has already been mentioned: without the biê of Achilles, no mêtis can rescue the Achaeans from Hektor's onslaught.[1] As for the bad aspect, it is manifested throughout the rampage of Achilles as he finally enters his war in the Iliad. He does more, much more, than simply kill Hektor. A veritable slaughter is to precede Hektor's death, only to be followed by mutilation and human sacrifice.[2] Apollo says it all when he compares Achilles to a ravenous lion who lunges for his dais 'portion', yielding to his own savage biê (XXIV 41-43).[3] The words of Apollo describing the hero's disposition correspond to the words used by Achilles himself as he expresses his own brutal urge to devour the vanquished Hektor (XXII 346-347).[4] Such ghastly aspects of biê lead us to wonder what words the man of mêtis may possibly have used against the man of biê during their neîkos 'quarrel', which actually took place at a dais 'feast' (viii 76). One thing is certain: when Odysseus for a single moment despairs of his mêtis, the reaction of his men is to be overwhelmed by thoughts about biê. Let us observe first the hero's words of despair:
‘ f¤loi, oÈ går ýdmen —p™ zÒfow oÈd' —p™ ±‰w,
oÈd' —p™ ±°liow faes¤mbrotow e”s' ÍpÚ gaðan
oÈd' —p™ énneðtai: éllå fraz‰meya yçsson
eý tiw ¶t' ¶stai mƒtiw: §g d' oÈk oýomai e”nai.
Dear friends! I speak because we know neither where the western darkness is nor the dawn,
neither where the sun that shines upon mortals sets below the earth
nor where it rises,[5] but let us hasten to think[6]
whether there is any mêtis any longer. I myself think there is none.
Then the reaction of his men:
Õw §fãmhn, toðsin d¢ kateklãsyh f¤lon …tor
mnhsam°noiw ¶rgvn LaistrugÒnow ÉAntifãtao
KÊklvpÒw te b¤hw megalÆtorow, éndrofãgoio.
klaðon d¢ lig°vw, yalerÚn katå dãkru x°ontew:
éll' oÈ gãr tiw prƒjiw §g¤gneto murom°noisin.
So I spoke. And their heart was broken
as they remembered the deeds of Antiphates the Laestrygonian
and the biê of the great-hearted Cyclops, the man eater.[7]
And they wept loud and shrill, letting many a tear fall.
But crying did not get them anywhere.
In the absence of mêtis, disorienting thoughts of biê are stirred up in the mind. And the nightmarish vision of the man-eating Cyclops in the Odyssey is marked by the same biê that marks the epic vision of a rampaging Achilles in the Iliad. Significantly, it is only here in the Odyssey that the Cyclops is ever called "great-hearted" (megalÆtorow : x 200)--an epithet generically applied to the warriors of the Trojan War.[8]
§5. The theme of biê is not only ambivalent in its positive and negative aspects, it is also elemental. Most prominently, the power of the winds is designated by biê (b¤aw én°mvn : XVI 213, XXIII 713) or by its synonym îs (’w én°mou /én°moio : XV 383/XVII 739, etc.).[1] Also, the power of fire is called the "biê of Hephaistos" (ÑHfa¤stoio b¤hfi : XXI 367),[2] and this appellation applies at the very moment when the power of fire is defeating the power of water. The latter is manifested in the river god Xanthos, who in turn is called the "îs of the river" (’w potãmoio : XXI 356).[3] Before Hephaistos, Achilles himself had confronted the river god, but Xanthos says that the hero's biê will not suffice against a god (oÈ ... b¤hn xraismhs°men : XXI 316). What strikes us in particular here is that the narrative is presenting the biê of Achilles as parallel to the biê of fire itself. The god of water even says it about Achilles:
m°monen d' — ge ”sa yeoðsi
He is in a rage, equal to the rage of the gods.[4]
§6. The ultimate cosmic biê is that of Zeus himself as he readies himself for battle with the Titans:
oÈd' êr' ¶ti ZeÁw ýsxen €Ún m°now, éllã nu toË ge
e”yar m¢n m°neow plƒnto fr°new, §k d° te pçsan
faðne b¤hn
Zeus did not any longer restrain his menos [might], but straightway
his breathing was filled with menos[1] and he showed forth
all his biê.[2]
What follows these verses is an elaborate description of an ultimate thunderstorm (Th. 689-712) marked by thunder and lightning (Th. 689-692, 699, 707-708) that brings fire (Th. 692-700) and is conducted by winds (Th. 706-709).[3] The Cyclopes themselves, who had actually made thunder and lightning for Zeus (Th. 139-141), are characterized by their biê (Th. 146). And here we see at least one interesting point of convergence between the Cyclopes of the Theogony and those of the Odyssey, who in turn are described as "better in biê" than the Phaeacians (b¤hfi ... f°rteroi : vi 6). We should also recall the biê of the man-eating Cyclops Polyphemus (x 200).[4] The main point remains, however, that the cosmic aspect of biê as manifested in the thunderstorm of Zeus is parallel in epic diction to the heroic aspect of biê as manifested in the martial rage of Achilles. The slaughter of the Trojans by Achilles is directly compared to the burning of a city (XXI 520-525) as effected by the mênis 'anger' of the gods (XXI 523). The anger of the gods in general and of Zeus in particular is of course manifested directly in the fire and wind of a thunderstorm inflicted by Zeus, as we have already seen in Hesiod Th. 687-712.[5] Moreover, cosmic fire marks the reentry of Achilles in battle: Athena brings about a phlox 'flame' that burns over the hero's head (XVIII 206), and the Trojans are terrified at the sight of this akamaton pûr 'inexhaustible fire' (XVIII 225). We may compare the phlox of Zeus during his thunderstorm against the Titans (Hesiod Th. 692, 697), and in addition, the phlox and the akamaton pûr of Hephaistos as the fire god stands in for Achilles by combating the element of water itself (XXI 333/349 and 341 respectively). Again I note that the phlegma 'conflagration' of Hephaistos is conducted by the thuella 'gust' of the West and South Winds (XXI 334-337),[6] just as the thunderbolt of Zeus is conducted by anemoi 'winds' (Th. 706-709).
§7. The cosmic and heroic aspects of biê combined bring us now to a striking parallel in Indo-Iranian religion and epic. The parallelism is to be found in the Indo-Iranian storm god Vâyu: his very name means "Wind," and he had once functioned as a god of the Männerbund or warrior society.[1] The parallelism is also to be found in the Indic hero Bhîma, one of the main figures in the epic Mahâbhârata. Begotten of a mortal woman Kuntî by the war god Vâyu himself, Bhîma is the very embodiment of balam 'physical might', who is destined to be "the best among the strong" (MBh. 1.114.8-10).[2] He is, for that matter, not only strong but fast as well, running "with the speed of wind" (e.g., MBh. 1.136.19). He is also decidedly brutal--a quality that occasionally earns the solemn blame of his older brother Yudhis.tô.hira (MBh. 9.58.15 ff.). In one episode (MBh. 3.153), he goes on a rampage of violence (again blamed by Yudhis.tô.hira) that is actually inaugurated by a violent windstorm. Bhîma has a younger brother Arjuna, begotten of Kuntî by the war god Indra. This hero is the embodiment not only of balam 'physical might' as applied to enemies but also of beneficence as applied to friends (MBh. 1.114.23). In this connection, we must note the important discussions of Stig Wikander and Georges Dumézil, who have convincingly shown that the relationship of the five brothers Yudhis.tô.hira, Bhîma û Arjuna, Nakula û Sahadeva, collectively known as the Pânô.dô.ava-s, reflects an ideology so archaic that it is Indo-European in origin.[3] What is of more immediate concern, however, is the specific relationship of the heroes Bhîma and Arjuna, which reflects an ideology that is no longer apparent in the relationship of the gods who fathered them, Vâyu and Indra respectively. By the time that the Mahâbhârata was taking on its present shape, Vâyu had long been obsolescent, while Indra had long ago evolved from a god of war into a far more complex and versatile figure.[4] The contrast between Bhîma and Arjuna in epic, however, remains unaffected--or at least less affected--by the trends of Indic religion. For my own purposes, I note in particular the following details of contrast from among a more extensive list of details assembled by Dumézil:[5]
§8. Each of these thematic contrasts between the two Indic figures evokes a striking parallel within the single figure of Achilles. There is on one hand the Hellenic hero's defiance of military institutions, taking the specific form of his challenge to Agamemnon in Iliad I as well as his rejection of the Embassy in Iliad IX. On the other hand, his treatment of Priam in Iliad XXIV reflects a stance of ultimate military etiquette. Or again, there is his solitary disposition as manifested in his refusal to aid the philoi despite the entreaties of the Embassy. Only after the death of Patroklos, who is to him more philos than anyone else, is Achilles finally reintegrated with the rest of his philoi.[1] Before his reintegration into the Männerbund of his philoi,[2] Achilles is pictured spending his time together with Patroklos in their mutual isolation, as we hear from the retrospective words spoken by the apparition of Patroklos himself:
oÈ m¢n går zvo¤ ge f¤lvn épãneuyen €ta¤rvn
boulåw €zÒmenoi bouleÊsomen
No longer shall you and I, alive, be planning our plans
as we sit far away from the philoi companions [hetaîroi].[3]
Achilles had even expressed the wish that he and Patroklos should be the only Achaeans to survive for the grand event of capturing Troy:
a’ gãr, ZeË te pãter kaÐ ÉAyhna¤h kaÐ ÖApollon,
mÆte tiw oÔn Tr‰vn yãnaton fÊgoi, —ssoi ¶asi,
mÆte tiw ÉArge¤vn, n«Ûn d' §kdËmen –leyron,
–fr' o”oi Tro¤hw þerå krÆdemna lÊvmen
Father Zeus, Athena, and Apollo! If only
not one of all the Trojans could escape destruction,
nor a single one of the Argives, while you and I emerge from the slaughter,
so that we two alone may break Troy's sacred coronal.
Finally, we come to the third contrast. Achilles, like Arjuna, has the most splendid armor, and the lengthy description of his shield in Iliad XVIII (468-608) even entails a distinct narrative form. The tradition that tells of his armor is in fact so strong that the Iliad itself reckons with not one but two occasions when Achilles was given a set of armor made by Hephaistos himself (the later occasion at XVIII 468-613, the earlier at XVII 194-197 and XVIII 82-85).[4] As for the image of an Achilles without armor, I find an interesting attestation in Pindar N.3.43-66, a rare survival from the poetic traditions that had told about the boyhood deeds of Achilles.[5] Here we see the young hero killing lions and boars while armed with nothing but a spear (lines 46-47);[6] in motion he is as fast as the winds (ýsa t' én°moiw : line 45), and his speed is such that he even outruns deer, hunting them down without the aid of hunting dogs or traps (lines 51-52).[7]
§9. Mention of Achilles' wondrous speed brings us back to the theme of biê as manifested by wind. The hero's speed is reflected even by the epithet system that adorns him in epic diction. Achilles is in fact the only hero in the Iliad who is called podarkês 'relying on his feet' (over 20x),[1] podas ôkus 'swift with his feet' (over 30x), and podôkês'swift-footed' (over 20x).[2] Moreover, his windlike speed is a direct function of his biê, as we see from the words directed at Hektor by Athena in disguise:
±yeð', … mãla dÆ se biãzetai »kÁw ÉAxilleÊw,
êstu p°ri Priãmoio posÐn tax°essi di‰kvn
Dear brother, indeed swift Achilles uses biê against you,
as he chases you with swift feet[3] around the city of Priam.
In other heroic traditions as well, biê is manifested in the speed of wind. An ideal example is Îphiklos, who is also called biê + adjective of Îphi-kleês (as at xi 290, 296: b¤h ÉIfiklhe¤h ).[4] This hero's identity, which is the very embodiment of biê and its synonym îs,[5] is determined predominantly by his windlike speed. He is pictured in Hesiod fr. 62MW (quoted by Eustathius 323.42) as racing through a field of grain with such speed that his feet barely touch the tips of the grain stalks. His epithet is podôkês 'swift footed', and he is said to have races with the winds themselves (scholia ad xi 326 and Pap.Soc.Ital. 1173.78-81). He even has a son called Podarkês 'relying on his feet ' (Hesiod fr. 199.5MW).[6]
§10. The verb theô 'run, speed', as we see it applied to the speeding Îphiklos (y°en : Hesiod fr. 62.1MW), also applies to speeding ships (I 483, ii 429, etc.) and to speeding horses (X 437, XIX 415, XX 227, 229).[1] In the case of horses, we may be more specific: their speed is by convention compared directly to the speed of wind, by way of the verb theô. At X 437, the horses of Rhesos are "like the winds in speed [ye¤ein ]." At XIX 415, Xanthos, the wondrous horse of Achilles, says that they, the hero's horse team, could run [y°oimen ] as fast as the gust of Zephyros the West Wind, described as the fastest of all. Despite their speed, however, Achilles is fated to die "by îs [”fi ], at the hands of a god and a man" (XIX 417). Finally, at XX 227, the wondrous horses fathered by Boreas the North Wind are described as so swift that their feet barely touch the tips of the grain stalks as they race [y°on ] across fields of grain. Also, at XX 229, their feet barely touch the tips of the waves as they race [y°eskon ] across the surface of the sea. Needless to say, the parallel with the speeding Iphiklos (Hesiod fr. 62MW) is striking. I lay such emphasis on the associations of the verb theô in Homeric diction because I see an interesting semantic complement in the associations of the adjective derived from theô, thoos 'swift'. As an epithet, thoos applies to Ares the war god himself (V 430, VIII 215, etc.) as well as to occasional warriors (V 571, XV 585, etc.). Moreover, the epithet Arêithoos 'swift with Ares' applies in the plural to aizêoi, an obscure noun designating warriors at VIII 298/XV 315 and hunters at XX 167. We are reminded of the Indo-Iranian war god Vâyu, whose very name means "Wind"; also of the warrior Bhîma, son of Vâyu, who runs with the speed of wind.[2] In the associations of Greek theô and thoos, we find close parallels to these Indo-Iranian themes: the semantic range of the two words combined conveys a fusion of the elemental and martial functions.[3]
§11. The form Arêithoos recurs as the name of an Arcadian hero in a particularly interesting narrative tradition preserved by the Iliad. The context is set as Nestor is reproaching the Achaeans (ne¤kess' 'made neîkos': VII 161) because not one of them has yet taken up Hektor's challenge issued to whoever is "best of the Achaeans" (VII 50). The old man wishes that he were young again (VII 132-133), as he was at the time of his youthful exploits during a war between the Pylians and the Arcadians (VII 133-156). The tale of his exploits is concluded with a reiteration by Nestor of his wish that he were as young as he had been at that time:
eýy' Õw ¾b‰oimi, b¤h d° moi ¶mpedow eýh
If only I were that young! If only my biê had remained as it was!
The narrative framed by Nestor's wish, which took place in those former days when he still had his full biê, concerns a duel between Nestor and a gigantic Arcadian hero--a duel that the old man is now contrasting with the present prospect of a duel between Hektor and whoever is "best of the Achaeans." The Arcadian hero was Ereutha- liôn, wearing the armor of Arêithoos:
toðsi d' ÉEreuyal¤vn prÒmow ·stato, ÞsÒyeow f‰w,
teÊxe' ¶xvn moisin ÉArhÛyÒoio ênaktow,
d¤ou ÉArhÛyÒou, tÚn §p¤klhsin korunÆthn
êndrew k¤klhskon kall¤zvno¤ te gunaðkew,
[140] oÏnek' êr' oÈ tÒjoisi max°sketo dour¤ te makr³,
éllå sidhre¤™ korÊn™ =Ægnuske fãlaggaw.
tÚn LukÒorgow ¶pefne dÒlŸ, oÎ ti krãte› ge,
steinvp³ §n žd³, —y' êr' oÈ korÊnh oþ –leyron
xraðsme sidhre¤h: prÐn går LukÒorgow Ípofyåw
[145] dourÐ m°son perÒnhsen, ž d' Ïptiow oÎdei §re¤syh:
teÊxea d' §jenãrije, tã oþ pÒre xãlkeow ÖArhw.
kaÐ tå m¢n aÈtÚw ¶peita fÒrei metå m«lon ÖArhow:
aÈtår §peÐ LukÒorgow §nÐ megãroisin §gÆra,
d«ke d' ÉEreuyal¤vni f¤lŸ yerãponti forƒnai:
[150] toË — ge teÊxe' ¶xvn prokal¤zeto pãntaw ér¤stouw.
oþ d¢ mãl' §trÒmeon kaÐ §de¤disan, oÈd° tiw ¶tlh:
éll' §m¢ yumÚw énƒke polutlÆmvn polem¤zein
yãrseÛ Ž: geneª d¢ ne‰tatow ¶skon èpãntvn:
kaÐ maxÒmhn oþ §g‰, d«ken d° moi eÔxow ÉAyÆnh.
[155] tÚn dÆ mÆkiston kaÐ kãrtiston ktãnon êndra:
pollÚw gãr tiw ¶keito parÆorow ¶nya kaÐ ¶nya.
Their champion stood forth, Ereuthaliôn, a man godlike,
wearing upon his shoulders the armor of King Arêithoos,
Arêithoos the brilliant, named the Club Bearer[1]
by the men and fair-girdled women of that time,
[140] because he fought not with bow and arrows, nor with a long spear,
but with a club coated with iron he smashed the army ranks.
Lukoorgos killed him--with a stratagem, not with kratos--[2]
in a narrow pass, where the iron club could not ward off
his destruction, since Lukoorgos anticipated him
[145] by pinning him through the middle with his spear, and he fell down backwards to the ground.
And he stripped off the armor that brazen Ares had given him.
And from then on he wore the armor himself whenever he went to the môlos [struggle] of Ares.
But when Lukoorgos was growing old in his halls,
he gave it to Ereuthaliôn to wear, his philos therapôn.
[150] So, wearing his armor [of Areithoos], he [Ereuthalion] was challenging all the best to fight him.
But they were all afraid and trembling: no one undertook to do it.
I was the only one, driven to fight by my thûmos which was ready to undertake much,
with all its boldness, even though I was the youngest of them all.
I fought him, and Athena gave me fame.[3]
[155] For I killed the biggest and the best man:[4]
he sprawled in his great bulk from here to here.[5]
Within the limits of my present inquiry, I cannot do justice to the many details of this fascinating narrative, and I content myself by citing only those points that are immediately pertinent. Surely the key point is that Arêithoos is an ideal exponent of biê, by virtue of both his name and his primary attribute, the club. The themes of war and swiftness inherent in the name Arêithoos remind us of the warrior Bhîma, who runs "with the speed of wind" (e.g., Mahâbhârata 1.136.19). So also with the theme of the club: Bhîma has the epic reputation, well-known to other warriors, of wielding clubs (e.g., MBh. 1.123.40, 4.32.16, 9.57.43).[6] Aside from the comparative evidence, there is also the internal evidence provided by the context: Arêithoos was actually killed as an exponent of biê, which is to be contrasted with the stratagem of the man who killed him, Lukoorgos.[7] Furthermore, we may suspect that the Arcadian hero who inherited the armor of Arêithoos is also by implication a man of biê, since Nestor's whole narrative here is intended as an illustration of the old man's biê in the days when he was young.
§12. Let us pursue, then, the idea that Ereuthaliôn is a man of biê. From local Arcadian traditions, we learn that the young Nestor gave form to his joy over defeating Ereuthaliôn by doing a dance without taking off his armor (Ariaithos of Tegea FGrH 316.7). As Francis Vian points out,[1] the dance as it is described corresponds to the formal war dance called the purrhikhê.[2] In fact, what Nestor did corresponds to the basic definition of the purrhikhê as we find it in Hesychius (s.v. purrix¤zein ): tÆn §nÒplion –rxhsin kaÐ sÊntonon purr¤xhn ¶legon 'the word for energetic dancing in armor was purrhikhê'.[3] This word is actually derived from purrhos 'fiery red', which in turn is derived from pûr 'fire'.[4] Vian accordingly links the semantics of purrhikhê with the name Ereuthaliôn, which must mean something like "red" (cf. verb ereuthô 'be red').[5] What could be more appropriate, he asks, than a "red dance" celebrating a "red warrior"?[6] We may go considerably further than this formulation. The fact is that pûr 'fire' is a prime manifestation of biê, on the cosmic level and on the heroic as well.[7] Moreover, the figures of myth who are especially noted for their biê are frequently called by names denoting fire--we are immediately reminded of Purrhos himself, as also of the wanton society of warriors known as the Phleguai.[8] The element phleg- of Phleguai is actually the same root as in phlox 'flame', a word that marks the biê of Achilles in the Iliad.[9] The point is, the concept of purrhikhê is appropriate to the name Purrhos as well as to the adjective purrhos. In fact, there are traditions that derive the name of the dance from the name of the hero. In Archilochus fr. 304W, for example, the purrhikhê gets its name because Purrhos danced it for joy over his defeat of Eurypylos.[10] In another tradition used by Lucian (De saltatione 9), Purrhos not only "invented" the purrhikhê but also captured Troy through the power of this dance.[11] It also bears emphasizing that the dance themes of the purrhikhê seem to be connected with fires at specific occasions, such as the cremation of Patroklos[12] or the holocaust of Troy itself.[13] In sum, the name of the warrior Ereuthaliôn is not motivated by the theme of Nestor's "red dance," nor for that matter is the purrhikhê motivated by the name of Purrhos. Rather, the names of such heroes as Ereuthaliôn and Purrhos are motivated by the theme of martial biê as manifested in the element of fire--and the same goes for the dance purrhikhê. We may even say that the purrhikhê is a dramatization of biê itself. There is in fact an Arcadian festival called the Môleia, which dramatizes a duel between Ereuthaliôn and Lukoorgos (scholia ad Apollonius of Rhodes Argonautica 1.164).[14] In Panhellenic Epos, môlos Arêos is combat, 'the struggle of Ares' (as at VII 147; also at II 401, etc.). In local ritual, the Môleia is a reenactment of such combat. And again, the reenactment amounts to a dramatization of martial biê.[15]
§13. Now that we have surveyed the heroic attributes of wind and fire as conveyed by the themes of Arêithoos and Ereuthaliônrespectively, we are brought back to our central point of interest, the figure of Achilles, whose biê happens to incorporate both of these elemental attributes. So far, the most direct Iliadic example of a traditional parallel between the martial rage of the hero and the thunderstorm of Zeus has been XXI 520-525, where the slaughter of the Trojans by Achilles is being directly compared to the burning of a city by divine agency.[1] But the overt description of divine power as manifested in fire and wind combined is actually to be found elsewhere, as in the Hesiodic description of the ultimate thunderstorm effected by Zeus against the Titans (Th. 687-712).[2] Moreover, an overt description of the hero's power as manifested in fire and wind is also to be found elsewhere. So far, the most striking instance has been the intervention of Hephaistos on the side of Achilles, where the phlegma 'conflagration' of the fire god is being conducted by Zephyros the West Wind and Notos the South Wind (XXI 334-337).[3] Now we may add the scene where Achilles prays to Boreas the North Wind and Zephyros the West Wind to conduct the fires that will cremate Patroklos (XXIII 194-198); without the winds, the funeral pyre will not burn (XXIII 192). As the winds blow, they literally "throw flame," and the word for flame is again phlox (flÒg' ¶ballon : XXIII 217).[4]
§14. In the Cremation Scene, the epiphany of the winds Boreas and Zephyros takes the form of a violent storm (XXIII 212-215), described as happening over the pontos 'sea' (XXIII 214).[1] This image, as I will attempt to show in the next several pages, relates directly to the figure of Achilles. We begin with a simile. When the Achaeans and their king Agamemnon are afflicted by penthos 'grief' and akhos 'grief' at IX 3 and 9 respectively, their affliction is directly compared to a violent storm brought about by the winds Boreas and Zephyros (IX 4-7); again, the storm is described as happening over the pontos 'sea' (IX 4). The akhos/penthos of the Achaeans and the corresponding kratos of the Trojans are of course brought about ultimately by the Will of Zeus, which takes the form of Hektor's onslaught.[2] In the same scene where Diomedes acknowledges that Zeus has given the kratos to the Trojans and not to the Achaeans (XI 317-319),[3] Hektor is actually being compared to a violently blowing wind that stirs up the pontos (XI 297-298). The expression Ípera°Û ”sow é°ll™ ' equal to a violently blowing wind' at XI 297 follows a parallel simile applied to Hektor at XI 295: brotoloig³ ”sow ÖArhÛ ' equal to Ares, the loigos [devastation] of mankind'.[4]
§15. But the immediate loigos 'devastation' afflicting the Achaeans in the Iliad is of course not the winds of the pontos that threaten to destroy their ships, but the fire of Hektor.[1] Significantly, even this fire threatens specifically to destroy the ships of the Achaeans, and this theme is central to the Iliad. The Will of Zeus, to give kratos to the Trojans until the Achaeans give Achilles his proper tîmê 'honor' (I 509-510), is of course what Achilles himself prays for in his mênis 'anger'. The hero's prayer in fact specifically entails that the Trojans should prevail until they reach the ships of the Achaeans (I 408-412, 559, II 3-5, XVIII 74-77). In this light, let us consider the first indication of the algea 'pains' that the mênis of Achilles inflicted on the Achaeans through the Will of Zeus (I 1-5). It happens when the Achaeans first begin to be losers in the absence of Achilles: as Zeus is weighing the fates of the two sides, the Trojans are found to be on the winning and the Achaeans on the losing side (VIII 66-74). Zeus signals the decision with thunder and a selas 'flash' of lightning hurled towards the Achaeans, who are panic stricken (VIII 75-77). As Cedric Whitman remarks, "The lightning flash which dismays the Achaeans is a direct reflex of Achilles' retirement. The action of the god and the inaction of the hero are essentially one."[2] Until now, the most successful Achaean in battle has been Diomedes, and Zeus hurls at him a special thunderbolt with a terrifying phlox 'flame' (VIII 133-135), forcing the hero to retreat and giving him akhos 'grief' (VIII 147). The thunderings of Zeus are a sêma 'signal' of victory for the Trojans (VIII 170-171), and Hektor straightway recognizes that the Will of Zeus entails the kûdos 'glory' of victory for the Trojans and pêma 'pain' for the Achaeans (VIII 175-176; recalled at XII 235-236, 255-256).
§16. Now we are ready to examine how the Will of Zeus is translated into the fire of Hektor's onslaught against the Achaean ships. Once Zeus sends the flash of his thunderstroke, "lightning carries the day; fire is on the Trojan side, and burns threateningly in the form of watchfires which at the end of Book VIII dot the plain, and burn throughout the succeeding night."[1] By the beginning of Book IX and thereafter, the threat of fire from the Trojan side is consistently formalized in one theme: Hektor will burn the ships of the Achaeans:
éll' —te ken dÆ nhusÐn ¶pi glafurªsi g°nvmai,
mnhmosÊnh tiw ¶peita purÚw dh›oio gen°syv,
Šw purÐ nƒaw §niprÆsv, kte¤nv d¢ kaÐ aÈtoÁw
ÉArge¤ouw parå nhusÐn étuzom°nouw ÍpÚ kapnoË
But when I get to the hollow ships,
let there be some memory in the future[3] of the burning fire,
how I will set the ships on fire and kill
the Argives right by their ships, confounded as they will be by the smoke.
When the fire of Hektor finally reaches the Achaean ships, the Muses are specially invoked for the telling of this vital event (XVI 112-113).[4] Zeus himself has been waiting to see the selas 'flash' of the first ship to be set on fire (XV 599-600), which is to be the signal that his Will has been fulfilled, that the kûdos 'glory' of victory has been taken away from the Achaeans and awarded to the Trojans (XV 592-599). The selas 'flash' that marks the final enactment of Zeus' Will must be compared with the selas 'flash' of his thunderstroke at VIII 76, which had signaled the beginning of the reverses suffered by the Achaeans.[5] Once the fire of Hektor reaches the ships of the Achaeans, the Will of Zeus is complete: the narrative makes it explicit that Zeus will now shift the kûdos 'glory' of victory from the Trojans to the Achaeans (XV 601-602). Even this reversal is expressed in terms of "driving the Trojans away from the ships" (ibid.).
§17. Once the Will of Zeus is complete, the prayer of Achilles in his mênis is thereby fulfilled. The hero's prayer, as we have seen, has the same limit as the Will of Zeus: the Trojans should prevail until they reach the ships of the Achaeans (I 408-412, 559, II 3-5, XVIII 74-77). Thus when Achilles himself sees the fire of Hektor reaching the ships of the Achaeans at XVI 127, he sees in effect the ultimate fulfillment of his mênis. For Zeus, the selas 'flash' of Hektor's fire at XV 600 signals the termination of the Trojan onslaught, which was inaugurated by the selas of his own thunderstroke at VIII 76. For Achilles, the same fire at XVI 122-124, called phlox 'flame' at 123, signals the end of his wish that the Trojans should reach the ships of the Achaeans and the beginning of his concern that their ships should be saved from the fire of Hektor (XVI 127-128). The hero now calls upon his substitute, Patroklos, to avert the fiery threat that his own mênis had originally brought about:
éllå kaÐ ¦w, Pãtrokle, ne«n épÚ loigÚn émÊnvn
¶mpes' §pikrat°vw, mÆ dÆ purÚw aÞyom°noio
nƒaw §niprÆsvsi, f¤lon d' épÚ nÒston ßlvntai
Even so, Patroklos, ward off the loigos [devastation] from the ships
and attack with kratos, lest they [the Trojans] burn
the ships with blazing fire and take away a safe homecoming [nostos].[1]
Patroklos is a savior of the Achaeans by virtue of temporarily averting from their ships the fire of the Trojans:
§k nh«n d' ¶lasen katå d' ¶sbesen aÞyÒmenon pËr
He drove them [the Trojans] from the ships, and he quenched the blazing fire.
Õw DanaoÐ nh«n m¢n épvsãmenoi dÆÛon pËr
Thus the Danaans, having averted from the ships the burning fire ...
Appropriately, Hektor is called flogÐ eýkelow ÑHfa¤stoio 'like the phlox [flame] of Hephaistos' (XVII 88) in the very action where he has killed Patroklos;[2] the word phlox in this expression again implies the thunderstroke of Zeus.[3]
§18. To sum up, the kratos of the Trojans is signaled by the fire of Zeus in a thunderstorm, which is expressed with the same diction that expresses the fire of Hektor's onslaught against the ships of the Achaeans. On the other hand, the kratos of the Trojans is also signaled by the wind of Zeus in a thunderstorm. What is kratos for the Trojans is penthos/akhos for the Achaeans at IX 3/9, which in turn is compared by way of simile to violent winds raging over the pontos 'sea' at IX 4-7.[1] In the same scene where Diomedes acknowledges that Zeus has given the kratos to the Trojans (XI 317-319), Hektor is likened to a violent wind raging over the pontos (XI 297-298).[2] Just like Hektor's fire, these winds signaling kratos are expressed with the same diction that expresses the overall image of a thunderstorm brought by Zeus. As further illustration, I add the following simile describing the Trojans on the offensive:
oþ d' ýsan érgal°vn én°mvn étãlantoi é°ll™,
¥ =ã y' ÍpÚ brontƒw patrÚw DiÚw e”si p°donde,
yespes¤Ÿ d' žmãdŸ èlÐ m¤sgetai, §n d° te pollå
kÊmata paflãzonta poluflo¤sboio yalãsshw,
kurtå falhriÒvnta, prÚ m°n t' êll', aÈtår §p' êlla.
And they came, like a gust of the racking winds,
which under the thunderstroke of Father Zeus drives downward
and with gigantic clamor hits the sea, and the many
boiling waves along the length of the roaring sea
bend and whiten to foam in ranks, one upon the other.
§19. Since the traditional imagery that marks Hektor's onslaught as the ultimate bane of the Achaeans is appropriate to either the fire or the wind of a thunderstorm, Hektor is presented as a hero who is either "like fire" or "like wind" in Homeric diction. But there is an obvious difference in the Iliadic treatment of these two images. Whereas the threat of fire to the Achaean ships is both figurative and real, the threat of wind is only figurative, conveyed by similes. For the Iliad, Hektor's fire is real, even though it is expressed with imagery that suits the celestial fire of thundering Zeus; the threat of the god's winds, however, is real only as a general condition that can be expected to affect the Achaeans as a seafaring society. Still, the point remains that the most direct threat to the Achaeans, on land as well as sea, is the destruction of their ships--expressed in images most appropriate to a thunderstorm of Zeus. On the land, Achilles had it in his power both to bring the ships to the brink of fiery destruction by way of his mênis and then to rescue them from the fire by way of his surrogate Patroklos. On the sea, we may then ask, does Achilles have a power over winds that matches this power that he has over fire when he is on the land?
§20. Since the Iliad treats the onslaught of the Trojans as wind only by way of simile, we should expect the same mode of expression for any Iliadic treatment of the theme for which we are searching: how Achilles has the power to rescue the Achaean ships from the winds. I submit that I have found this theme in the simile deployed at the very moment Achilles has just put on the new armor made by Hephaistos. As the hero takes hold of his magnificent shield, it gives off a selas 'flash' described as follows:
toË d' épãneuye s°law g°net' ±@te mÆnhw.
Šw d' —t' ín §k pÒntoio s°law naÊt™si fanÆ™
kaiom°noio purÒw, tÒ te ka¤etai ÍcÒy' –resfi
staym³ §n oÞopÒlŸ: toÁw d' oÈk §y°lontaw êellai
pÒnton §p' ÞxyuÒenta f¤lvn épãneuye f°rousin:
Õw ép' ÉAxillƒow sãkeow s°law aÞy°r' ·kane kaloË daidal°ou
From it [the shield] there was a selas [flash] from far away, as from the moon,
or as when from out of the pontos [sea] a selas [flash] appears to sailors,
a flash of blazing fire, and it blazes up above in the mountains,
at a solitary station, while they [the sailors] are being carried along against their will by winds
over the fishy pontos, far away from their philoi. So also the selas from the beautiful and well-wrought shield of Achilles shot up into the aether.
Previously, we have seen the selas 'flash' of fire as a signal of destruction for the Achaean ships (VIII 76, XV 600);[1] here, on the other hand, it is a signal of salvation from the winds. The winds threaten the isolation of the sailors from their philoi, while the fire promises reintegration with them. Yet, ironically, the fire of reintegration is itself isolated and remote, much as the hero who is himself signaled by its flame.[2] The fire at the solitary station overlooking the pontos shoots up into the ethereal realms (XIX 379), and the transcendence of this earthly fire marking Achilles is matched by a multiple comparison with celestial fire: the light from the hero's shield is compared both to this earthly fire and to the light of the moon as well. Moreover, the light from his helmet is then likened to that of a star (XIX 381-383). And finally, the sight of Achilles fully armed is compared to the sun itself (XIX 397-398). At this moment, of course, Achilles is about to enter his war in the Iliad. Not only in simile but in reality as well, Achilles is emerging as savior of the Achaeans.
§21. For the moment, however, let us restrict our vision to the inner world of the simile, where the fire that is compared to Achilles is pictured as rescuing sailors from the winds that blow over the pontos 'sea'. I draw attention in particular to the word pontos, which serves as the setting for the dangerous winds in our simile. We have in fact already seen pontos as the setting for the winds that are compared to Hektor's onslaught, which in turn is endangering specifically the Achaean ships (IX 4-7, XI 297-298).[1] The theme of danger is actually inherent in pontos. From a comparative study of words that are cognate with pontos in other Indo-European languages, most notably Indic pánthâhô. 'path' and Latin pôns 'bridge', Émile Benveniste found that the basic meaning of the word is 'crossing, transition', with an underlying implication that the actual act of crossing is at the same time marked by danger.[2] The semantic aspect of crossing is inherent in the place name Hellês-pontos 'Crossing of Hellê',[3] a compound recalling the myth that told how Phrixos and Hellê crossed the Hellespont by riding on the Ram with the Golden Fleece. The aspect of danger is likewise inherent in the myth itself. During their crossing, Helle drowns, while Phrixos is saved (cf. Apollodorus 1.9.1).[4] The contrasting themes of danger and salvation here are reflected formally in the words of Pindar: Phrixos was "rescued out of the pontos" by way of the Golden Fleece (§k pÒntou sa‰yh : P.4.161). Even the epithet system of pontos in epic diction reflects the word's dangerous aspect. Let us consider the qualifier ikhthuoeis 'fishy, fish-swarming' as applied to pontos at XIX 378 (also IX 4!)[5] and to Hellêspontos at IX 360. The application of this epithet is motivated not so much by a fanciful striving for picturesque visualizations of the sea, but rather by the sinister implication of dangers lurking beneath a traveling ship. As we survey the collocations of pontos with the plain noun for "fish," ikhthûs, the ghastly themes of danger become overt:
µ tÒn g' §n pÒntŸ fãgon ÞxyÊew ...
... or the fish devoured him in the pontos
±° pou §n pÒntŸ fãgon ÞxyÊew ...
... or perhaps the fish devoured him in the pontos[6]