Abstract:Whatever the technology, whatever the age, geophonic, biophonic, and anthro-pophonic soundscapes are a wholesale part of the sensory experience of warfare, and this essay considers how representations of sound in the Iliad attempt to capture through attunement to aural sensory perception the extreme phenomenological experiences of warfare for individuals, communities, landscapes, and nations. Much attention has been given to the visual imagery in the Iliad, some attention to the acoustic poetics of the Iliad, but very little to (...) representations of sound as they relate to both the physical environment and the phenomenological experience of war. I argue here that representations of geophonic and biophonic sound in the Iliad frequently serve to contrast both anthrophony and the devastational impact of anthropogenic agency, and that this impact extends to the environmental. (shrink)

It has been easy to take the apparently detached viewpoint of the two early Greek epics as actually objective, a window on a ‘Heroic Age’, on a ‘Homeric society’ and its values. We used to ask whether ‘Homeric society’ belongs to the poets' own time or to some earlier one. We still ask how to characterize and explain the ways in which the ‘Homeric world’ differs from any world that we can accept as having existed: we answer with phrases such (...) as ‘poetic exaggeration’ and ‘epic distance’. We have constructed ‘Homeric society’, but it remains an isolate. It can tell us nothing in return of the poets' intentions, or of the society of their time, unless we have a working hypothesis as to the place in that society that was held by the poets and their audiences. (shrink)

Achilles’ dissatisfaction with the heroic code, despite his preeminence, is Homer’s platform on which he demonstrates that the code is an inadequate basis for the emerging polis. The political requires a new kind of man, one capable of love and friendship. For only this kind of man can be a proper citizen, a person capable of more than adherence to a heroic code.

The Iliad is rich in references to stories that have only incidental relevance to the main narrative. These digressions, as they are often called, have usually been assumed to reflect a wealth of pre-Homeric legend, some of which must a have been embodied in poetry. The older Analysts tended to explain the digressions in terms of interpolation. Whether regarded as genuinely Homeric or as interpolated these myths were considered as something existing in an external tradition. More recent scholars have (...) been prepared to admit that Homer may invent from time to time. For example, Sir Maurice Bowra observes that ‘the poet seems sometimes to invent a detail which looks as if it referred to some story outside his immediate subject but is in fact an invention brought to serve a passing need’. (shrink)

Die Homerische Odyssee in der ursprünglichen Sprachform wiederhergestellt von August Fick. Göttingen, 1883.Die Homerische Ilias nach ihrer Entstehung betrachtet wad in der ursprünglichen Sprach-form wiederliergestellt von August Fick. Göttingen, 1885–1886.Philologus, xliii. 1. Dr. K. Sittl, ‘Die Äolismen der Hornerischen Sprache.’ ‘Herr Dr. Karl Sittl und die Hornerischen Äolismen’ von DR. Gustav Hinrichs. Berlin, 1884.Bezzenberger's Beiträge zur Kunde der Indogerm. Sprachen. Vol. xi. ‘Die Sprachform der altionischen und altattischen Lyrik.’ A. Fick.

Die Homerische Odyssee in der ursprünglichen Sprachform wiederhergestellt von August Fick. Göttingen, 1883.Die Homerische Ilias nach ihrer Entstehung betrachtet wad in der ursprünglichen Sprach-form wiederliergestellt von August Fick. Göttingen, 1885–1886.Philologus, xliii. 1. Dr. K. Sittl, ‘Die Äolismen der Hornerischen Sprache.’ ‘Herr Dr. Karl Sittl und die Hornerischen Äolismen’ von DR. Gustav Hinrichs. Berlin, 1884.Bezzenberger's Beiträge zur Kunde der Indogerm. Sprachen. Vol. xi. ‘Die Sprachform der altionischen und altattischen Lyrik.’ A. Fick.

The word euboulia, which means excellence in counsel or sound judgement, occurs in only three places in the authentic writings of Plato. The sophist Protagoras makes euboulia the focus of his whole enterprise : What I teach a person is good judgement about his own affairs — how best he may manage his own household; and about the affairs of the city — how he may be most able to handle the business of the city both in action and in (...) speech. Thrasymachus, too, thinks well of euboulia. Invited by Socrates to call injustice kakoetheia ’, i.e. as simple-mindedness), he declines the sophistry and says : ‘No, I call it good judgement’. But Plato finds little occasion to introduce the concept in developing his own ethical and political philosophy. The one place where he mentions euboulia is in his defence of the thesis that his ideal city possesses the four cardinal virtues. He begins with wisdom, and justifies the ascription of wisdom to the city on the ground that it has euboulia — which he goes on to identify with the knowledge required by the guardians: ‘with this a person does not deliberate on behalf of any of the elements in the city, but for the whole city itself — how it may best have dealings with itself and with the other cities’ . It is normally rather dangerous to draw an inference from the absence or rarity of a word to the absence or rarity of the idea expressed by the word. (shrink)

The Iliad opens with the image of abandoned corpses, left as prey to the wild beasts. It closes with the hard-won and respectful funeral of Hector, during which his maimed body is finally laid to rest. In-between these passages, death and the fate of dead bodies are often part of the epic's subject matter. The audience is treated to a wide selection of images concerning the fallen and their remains, ranging from those taken gently away from the battlefield to (...) be buried to those who are posthumously mutilated where they lie. Instances of corpse mutilation are rare elsewhere in Greek historical and literary writing, but occur in the Iliad at a regular rate. The gruesomeness of these acts makes for shocking and violent scenes, and represents a radical departure from the normal funeral ritual with lasting repercussions for the relatives of the deceased and the fate of the dead person in the afterlife. (shrink)

AN inquiry into the use of paradeigma in the Iliad must begin with Niobe. At 24. 602 Achilles introduces Niobe in order to encourage Priam to have some food. The dead body of the best of Priam's sons has now been placed on the wagon ready for its journey back to Troy. Achilles says , ‘Now let us eat. For even Niobe ate food, and she had lost twelve children. Apollo and Artemis killed them all; they lay nine days (...) in their blood and there was no one to bury them, because Zeus had turned the people into stone. On the tenth day the gods buried them. But she managed to eat some food, when she was tired of weeping. And now among the mountains, although turned into stone, she still broods over her sorrows. But come, let us also eat. You can weep for your son again later’. (shrink)

The wordeuboulia, which meansexcellence in counselorsound judgement, occurs in only three places in the authentic writings of Plato. The sophist Protagoras makeseubouliathe focus of his whole enterprise(Prot.318e–319a):What I teach a person is good judgement about his own affairs — how best he may manage his own household; and about the affairs of the city — how he may be most able to handle the business of the city both in action and in speech.Thrasymachus, too, thinks well ofeuboulia. Invited by Socrates (...) to call injusticekakoetheia(vicious disposition — he has just identified justice as ‘an altogether noble good nature (euetheia)’, i.e. as simple-mindedness), he declines the sophistry and says (Rep. 348d): ‘No, I call it good judgement’. But Plato finds little occasion to introduce the concept in developing his own ethical and political philosophy. The one place where he mentionseubouliais in his defence of the thesis that his ideal city possesses the four cardinal virtues. He begins with wisdom, and justifies the ascription of wisdom to the city on the ground that it haseuboulia(Rep.428b) — which he goes on to identify with the knowledge required by the guardians: ‘with this a person does not deliberate on behalf of any of the elements in the city, but for the whole city itself — how it may best have dealings with itself and with the other cities’ (428c–d). It is normally rather dangerous to draw an inference from the absence or rarity of a word to the absence or rarity of the idea expressed by the word. (shrink)

‘My own father’, Achilles says to Priam in the last book of the Iliad, ‘was a rich man and a powerful one. He was king of the Myrmidons, and he had a divine wife. But even so the gods gave him evils too. He had no family, only one son, and that son a παναώριος one. I do not look after him in his old age, but am far away, sitting here in Troy, inflicting misery on you and your (...) children.’The problem I propose to discuss is the meaning of παναώριος. The word is unique to this passage, and the standard translation ‘of all-untimely fate’ or ‘doomed to die young’ is open to many objections. I shall argue that by describing himself as ‘untimely’ what Achilles means is that he is someone who is always doing the wrong thing at the wrong time, a misfit. It may seem a petty point, hardly worth the long argument that will be needed to establish it. But it has consequences for our judgement of the Iliad as a whole. If the one interpretation is correct, then Homer is content to repeat his effects without regard to the situation of his characters, which in any other author we would call careless writing. On the other interpretation he is capable of focusing down to quite detailed nuances. The question is not therefore one of lexicology alone but also of literary criticism.The translation ‘all-untimely doomed’ has warrant from antiquity. Leaf quotes a scholium παντελ⋯ς ἄωρον ⋯ποθανούμενον, and the word ⋯ωρία is used by a scholiast at 1.505 to refer to the fate by which Achilles was to die early. (shrink)

This article treats representations of the wolf in the Greek archaic and early classical literary and visual sources. Using a close reading of the Iliadic Doloneia as a point of departure, it argues that wolves in myth, fable, and other modes of discourse, as well as in the early artistic tradition, regularly serve as a means of signaling the loss of distinctions that occurs when friend turns into foe and an erstwhile philos or “second self” betrays one of his kind. (...) Prominent in the discussion are two further issues: the generic confusion or oscillation that characterizes so many textual and artistic versions of the tale, as well as the loss of distinction between two roles that normative representations more regularly contrast, those of warrior and hunter, martial victim and animal prey. Within the Doloneia, warfare proves indistinguishable from the hunt. (shrink)

This chapter seeks to characterize the voice of the poet within the Iliad, and to show that a better understanding of the poet’s voice helps to explain several distinctive and puzzling features of Iliadic narrative. The chapter looks at the poet’s relationship to the Muses, and his temporal and spatial self-positioning within the world of the Trojan war, all of which illustrate the divine perspective he offers on that war.

In Appendix II. to his edition of Odyssey, xiii.-xxiv., the late Dr. Monro examined the ‘ Relation of the Odyssey to the Iliad.’ One section of this Appendix, pp. 327 sqq., deals with ‘ passages of the Iliad borrowed or imitated in the Odyssey.’ It is there admitted that repetition is a characteristic of the epic style, and that in many cases of parallelism no detrimental inference can legitimately be drawn. But if, it is said, ‘ we are (...) able to point to a sufficient number of passages tending to show that the author of the Odyssey imitates the Iliad, and if no considerable instances can be produced of the converse,’ then it is thought there is confirmation of the view that the Odyssey is the later poem. The object of the present paper is to suggest that the decisions in individual cases have been arrived at on scanty or disputable grounds, and without due regard to relevant epic practice; and consequently that the reasons for inferring the existence of a later poet imitating an earlier are inadequate. (shrink)

Dissecting criticism of Homer has proved to its own satisfaction that certain books of the Iliad are late, and have special affinity with the Odyssey. This Odyssean connexion is established by collecting verbal and metrical peculiarities and grammatical usages, which are found outside these parts of the Iliad only in what is held to be the later poem. The chief delinquents are I, K, Ψ and Ω but many would add the Apaté, Nestor's reminiscence in Λ, and other (...) tracts. There is not complete agreement as to the limits of the category; but generally it is assumed that the four books, and, when necessary, other parts of the Iliad, have the Odyssean taint. Strangely enough, Θ is not so treated. Yet, as Mr. Andrew Lang has remarked, it ought to be Odyssean, if, as so many think, it was composed as a ‘prologue’ to I. (shrink)

AN inquiry into the use of paradeigma in theIliadmust begin with Niobe. At 24. 602 Achilles introduces Niobe in order to encourage Priam to have some food. The dead body of the best of Priam's sons has now been placed on the wagon ready for its journey back to Troy. Achilles says, ‘Now let us eat. For even Niobe ate food, and she had losttwelvechildren. Apollo and Artemis killed them all; they lay nine days in their blood and there was (...) no one to bury them, because Zeus had turned the people into stone. On the tenth day the gods buried them. But she managed to eat some food, when she was tired of weeping. And now among the mountains, although turned into stone, she still broods over her sorrows. But come, let us also eat. You can weep for your son again later’. (shrink)

When Andromache emerges from the inner chamber in Book 22, ascends the walls of Troy and looks out over the plain, she beholds a spectacle of ruthless brutality. She who has not been aware of the final combat, nor of the slaying of her husband, is suddenly confronted by the receding trail of utter defeat. Swift horses drag her husband's corpse into the distance, the cherished head disfigured as it is dragged, raking the dust of what was once their homeland. (...) The violence of the scene is forcefully conveyed by one word in particular. The swift horses drag Hektor κηδστως —without κδος without care, ‘sans soucier de, brutalement’. In itself the word κηδστως provides a definition of violence, one captured in Shakespeare's phrase ‘careless force’. Violence is, in its harsh brutality, specifically heedlessness, an absence of any form of care. When Achilles hurls the slain suppliant Lykaon into the river he utters the taunt, ‘the fish, κηδες, will lick clean your wound's blood’ . The discarded corpse is denied funeral rites: in place of the care that the relations of the dead traditionally bestow in tending, washing, enshrouding, lamenting, and burying the dead, here the heedless creatures of nature, fleeting visitors, will attend to the corpse, ‘clean’ it, but utterly without care, completely oblivious to the oblivion they create by destroying. In Book 24 Achilles will describe the gods themselves as κηδες. (shrink)