Chapter 5. The Name of Achilles

5§1. The theme of pêma 'pain, grief' as we find it in the first song of Demodokos (Odyssey viii 81) seems to be recapitulated in the very name of Achilles. As we consult Pierre Chantraine's etymological dictionary of Greek under the entry Akhilleús, we find listed a number of different explanations that have been offered over the years to account for the name of Greek epic's preeminent hero. [1] My discussion will center on one of these, namely, Leonard Palmer's suggestion that Akhil(l)eús is a shortened form of *Akhí-lāu̯os, [2] meaning ‘whose lāós [host of fighting men] has ákhos [grief].’ [3] By examining this reconstruction in detail, I hope to add further evidence to my thesis that the thematic germ of the Achilles figure entails pêma for the Trojans when the hero is at war and a pêma for the Achaeans both when he withdraws from war and when he dies. I should emphasize, of course, that this thesis is already supported by the textual evidence presented in the last chapter—and that it does not depend on the etymology of the name Akhil(l)eús. Whether or not we are to accept Palmer's proposed etymology, however, we stand to gain additional perspectives on Achilles in the course of examining the constituent themes associated with his name. Two key words will be involved: ákhos and pénthos, both meaning ‘grief’.

5§2. We begin by taking note of the numerous morphological details in support of the proposition that Akhil(l)eús is derived from *Akhí -{69|70} lāu̯os ‘whose lāós has ákhos’. [4] Plausible as it is, however, this reconstruction will not carry conviction unless we can be satisfied that the posited meaning ‘whose lāós has ákhos’ is intrinsic to the function of Achilles in myth and epic. [5] We will have to examine how the notion of an Achilles figure relates to the notions of ákhos ‘grief’ and lāós ‘host of fighting men’.

5§3. Such an examination can be valid, of course, only if the Achilles figure itself is intrinsic to the traditions of Greek myth and epic. [6] Further, we must be ready to assume that the mythopoeic {70|71} theme of Akhil(l)eús inspired the naming of historical figures called Akhil(l)eús—if there be any—rather than the other way around. [7] Lastly, we must be sure that the traditions of Greek myth and epic are old enough to be dated back, at the very least, to a time when a formation like *Akhí-lāu̯os could have existed.

5§4. For the moment, let us consider only the traditions of epic. In both form and content, the heritage of Homeric diction can be traced back all the way to Indo-European prototypes. [8] Even the internal evidence points to centuries of development. From Milman Parry’s detailed studies on the formulaic nature of Homeric diction, [9] we can absorb a sense for appreciating the immense stretches of time that must have been required for an evolving poetic medium to refine its diction to such degrees of economy and artistic effectiveness. [10] What applies to the Homeric compositions must apply commensurately to the Hesiodic, as we learn from the studies of Edwards and others. [11]

5§5. Not only for Homeric tradition in particular but also for myth in general, we have the warranty of deep archaism wherever we find mythical themes encased in such preservative media as the poetic traditions inherited by Pindar. [12] Combining internal analysis with the comparative method, we can establish not only that the traditional poetic forms of Pindar and other masters of lyric sometimes predate even Homeric counterparts, [13] but also that their traditional poetic {71|72} themes can sometimes be traced back all the way to Indo-European prototypes. [14]

5§6. In short, the testimony of the early Greek poetic traditions about Akhil(l)eús, by virtue of their formal and thematic archaism, can justifiably be applied as a test for Palmer's reconstruction *Akhí-lāu̯os. We must therefore examine whether the notion framed by *Akhí-lāu̯os (and *Penthí-lāu̯os, for that matter) corresponds to the functions of ákhos (pénthos) and lāós in the poetic traditions. In addition, we must examine whether such a correspondence extends to the Achilles figure itself. Since the primary poetic tradition about Achilles is the Iliad, a brief examination of its central themes, and of the diction expressing these themes, will have to be the first task.

5§7. The artistic unity of our Iliad, and the controlling function of the Achilles figure therein, can perhaps best be seen in the deployment of its central themes. Complex as it is in its ramifications, the plot is simple in its essence. The tīmḗ ‘honor’ of Achilles has been slighted (Iliad I 505–510, 559, etc.). He becomes angry and withdraws from the war, leaving our narrative with an opportunity to test the worth of the other prominent Achaean warriors of epic against the onslaught of Hektor and his Trojans. The Achaeans fall short and are forced to make appeals for the help of Achilles. Although Achilles refuses to come to the rescue, his comrade Patroklos becomes his surrogate. [15] Patroklos rescues the Achaeans but is killed by Hektor through the intervention of the god Apollo. [16] Achilles now enters the war to kill Hektor, thereby finally establishing his own place in epic by the positive action of fighting in battle. His negative action of withdrawing from battle had set the stage for showing that only he could have rescued the Achaeans. By functioning as his surrogate, however, Patroklos anticipates the epic destiny of Achilles, which is to rescue the Achaeans and to be killed in the process through the intervention of Apollo. It is Patroklos who rescues the Achaeans in our Iliad; for the moment, at least, the Trojans have been repelled by the time Achilles enters the battle and establishes his own place in the epic, by killing Hektor.

5§8. The Iliad does more than simply orchestrate these central themes into an artistic unity: it also names them. Either the narrative {72|73} or the characters within the narrative can actually refer to the central themes inside the Iliad, with special designations. For example, the invocation at the beginning of the Iliad announces the content of the narrative simply by naming the mênis ‘anger’ of Achilles: [17] Through the preeminent placement of the word mênis, the theme of Achilles' anger is singled out by the composition as the most central and hence most pervasive in the Iliadic tradition. Furthermore, the subsequent application of mênis is restricted by the composition specifically to the anger that Achilles felt over the slighting of his tīmḗ at the very beginning of the action. The anger that Achilles felt later over the killing of Patroklos is nowhere denoted by mênis. In fact, the only instance where mênis applies to heroes rather than gods in the Iliad is the mutual anger between Achilles and Agamemnon. [18] We see in these restrictions on the application of mênis a {73|74} distinctive Iliadic association of this word with all the epic events that resulted from Achilles’ anger against Agamemnon, the most central of which is the devastation suffered by the Achaeans. Again, the wording at the very beginning of the Iliad announces the theme of devastation by referring to the countless álgea ‘pains’ of the Achaeans caused by the mênis of Achilles:

5§9. Like the word mênis, álgea ‘pains’ too serves as a key to the plot of the Iliad. [19] Just as Apollo chronologically has mênis over the abduction of Chryseis (Iliad I 75) before Achilles has mênis over the abduction of Briseis, so also the Achaeans have álgea from Apollo before they get álgea from Achilles: And the remedial action, as we see from I 97 here, is denoted by λοιγὸν ἀπώσει ‘will remove the devastation [loigós]’. When this loigós ‘devastation’ is removed with the appeasement of Apollo’s anger, the Achaeans sing a pai ḗ ōn ‘paean’ to him (Iliad I 473), where the name of the song is also the epithet denoting the healing powers of the god. [20] Since the álgea that Apollo had visited upon the Achaeans was a loimós ‘plague’ (Iliad I 61, 97), the use of pai ḗ ōn at I 473 is all the more apt. [21] {74|75}

5§10. To repeat, álgea in the diction of the Iliad may denote two kinds of grief for the Achaeans: (1) the plague resulting from the mênis of Apollo and (2) the dire military situation resulting from the mênis of Achilles. In the case of the plague, the remedial action was denoted by λοιγὸν ἀπώσει ‘will remove the devastation [loigós]’ (Iliad I 97); in fact, the narrative quotes directly the actual prayer to Apollo by Apollo’s priest: [22] Elsewhere in the Iliad, as we examine the word loigós beyond I 97 and 456, we find that its accusative λοιγόν occurs exclusively in combination with the same verb ἀμυν- ‘ward off’ that we find here in I 456. And from the contexts of these combinations, the fact emerges that the dire military situation resulting from the mênis of Achilles calls for the same remedial action, from the standpoint of the diction, as did the plague resulting from the mênis of Apollo:

5§11. In fact, the diction of the Iliad can designate the plight of the Achaeans during the Battle of the Ships as simply λοιγὸν Ἀχαιῶν ‘the devastation [loigós] of the Achaeans’ at XXI 134, where the Achaeans are then immediately described, in Achilles’ own words, with the following narrative gloss: The loigós of the Achaeans during the Battle of the Ships happened because they were “apart from Achilles,” who had mênis. Already in Book I, the words of Achilles had alluded to their future predicament: It was in this future context, in what amounts to the title of a future episode in the narrative (“Battle of the Ships”), that the words of Achilles first raised the possibility that he would be needed then for the role of warding off the loigós of the Achaeans:

5§12. As the narrative approaches this epic destiny of Achilles with the ever-worsening plight of the Achaeans during the Battle of the Ships, the hypothetical subject of λοιγὸν ἀμύνειν ‘ward off the devastation’ remains Achilles only up to a certain point: Already here the speaker is Patroklos, who becomes soon hereafter the actual subject of the expression on the level of form and the surrogate of the action on the level of content. And it is Achilles who sends him off to battle with these words: The outcome will bring more grief.

5§13. As we hear from the retrospective narrative of XVIII 444–456, where Thetis retells briefly the entire Iliad up to the moment at hand, Achilles “had refused to ward off the devastation [ loigós ]” (ἠναίνετο λοιγὸν ἀμῦναι: Iliad XVIII 450) and Patroklos had taken his place—only to be killed by Hektor through the intervention of Apollo (Iliad XVIII 451–456). The god had thus given the emblem of victory, the kûdos, to Hektor (Iliad XVIII 456). [25] When Achilles finally wins back the {76|77} kûdos by killing Hektor, he calls on the Achaeans to sing a pai ḗ ōn (Iliad XXII 391), and the song is to begin as follows: The pai ḗ ōn here is to be contrasted with the only other one in the Iliad, at I 473, where it had celebrated the remedy for the álgea ‘pains’ of the Achaeans. True, the killing of Hektor has reversed the situation for the opposing sides: now it is the Achaeans who have the kûdos (Iliad XXII 393) and the Trojans who have álgea (XXII 422) because of Achilles, who is a pêma ‘pain’ for the Trojans (Iliad XXII 421–422). In fact, he is for them the pêma mégiston ‘greatest pain’ (Iliad XXII 288), in Hektor's own words. Previously, it had been Hektor who was called a pêma by the Achaeans (Iliad XI 347, cf. VIII 176), and in fact their plight during the onslaught of Hektor was also a pêma (Iliad IX 229). [26]

5§14. It remains to ask whether the Achaeans will be rid of grief after Hektor is killed. Clearly they will not, since the death of Achilles will itself be an ultimate pêma for them—as is presaged by the words announcing the death of Patroklos (Iliad XVII 688–689). [27]

5§15. Moreover, the death of Patroklos is visualized as a pêma not only for the Achaeans but for himself as well. Contemplating how the hero died, Agamemnon offers this generalization: any mortal who dares to fight Hektor and thereby undertake a confrontation with Apollo will get a pêma (Iliad XVII 98–99). [28] This generalization surely applies also to Achilles: the death of the hero will be a pêma both for the Achaeans and for himself. [29]

5§16. In short, the figure of Achilles is pervasively associated with the theme of grief. The program of the Iliad, which is equated with the Will of Zeus (Iliad I 5/II 38), decrees countless álgea ‘pains’ for Trojans and Achaeans alike (Iliad I 2/II 39)—all because Achilles became angry in a quarrel. [30] Beyond the Iliad, in the first song of Demodokos, we find Achilles again in a quarrel, and grief is again decreed (pêma ‘pain’: Odyssey viii 81) by the Will of Zeus (Odyssey viii 82). [31] Moreover, the Iliadic {77|78} identification of a depersonalized force called pêma mégiston ‘greatest pain’ with the epic persona of Achilles, as at XXII 288, makes the hero seem like the very essence of grief.

5§17. So far, we have been examining the relationship of the Achilles figure with the central theme of grief in the Iliad without actually considering the word ákhos and its deployment within the composition. The evidence that we have already seen, however, leads us to expect that any Iliadic diction involving ákhos should also directly involve the Achilles figure, if indeed the name Akhil(l)eús had once designated the epic function of the hero in its being derived from *Akhí-lāu̯os ‘whose lāós has ákhos’ = ‘he who has the host of fighting men grieving’. [32]

5§18. Before we proceed, however, a few precautions may be taken about the nature of our evidence. We may by now have satisfied ourselves, on the basis of the Iliadic diction, that there is a thematic association between the Achilles figure and the notion of grief. The diction seems orchestrated to fit the main themes, or better, to express these themes by way of the placement of certain key words. For example, the deployment of the expression λοιγὸν ἀμυν- ‘ward off devastation [loigós]’ had indirectly told its own story about how Achilles’ mênis caused grief for the Achaeans. The associations of key words keep retelling the main themes of the Iliad on a formal level, beyond the more fundamental level of the actual narrative. But it is essential to keep in mind that such orchestration of the forms in such a way as to fit the main themes is a result, not a cause. In Greek epic, as also elsewhere in traditional poetry, inherited themes are expressed by inherited forms which are highly regulated by the formulaic system of the genre.

5§19. To put it another way: from the intensive studies of Parry and Lord on the nature of formulaic language, we expect to see in Homeric poetry the automatic distribution of set phraseology appropriate to set themes. Conversely, our knowledge of formulaic behavior tells us that we cannot expect any given composition within the tradition to require any alterations or modifications in the inherited phraseology of its hexameters for the purpose of accommodating the composition’s sense of its own unity. If we do indeed discern the reality of an artistically unified Iliad, then we must also be ready to say that the unity of our Iliad is itself traditional. This is not {78|79} to detract from a work of genius. Nor is it the same thing as claiming that the Iliad is the work of some committee of composers. Rather, I would say simply that the genius behind our Iliad’s artistic unity is in large part the Greek epic tradition itself. In order to accept this proposition, we may have to force ourselves to imagine the immensely creative process of this tradition, with all the many centuries of what must have been the most refined sort of elite performer/audience interaction that went into the evolution of the Iliad and Odyssey as we know them. [33]

5§20. With these thoughts in mind, I return to the evidence of Iliadic diction, on ákhos and Akhil(l)eús. If we are now about to discover a pervasive nexus between these two elements in the Iliad, I would then infer that such a nexus is integrated in the inherited formulaic system and hence deeply rooted in the epic tradition. Accordingly, the internal evidence of epic may well corroborate the proposed derivation of Akhil(l)eús from ákhos.

5§21. As we turn now to the deployment of ákhos in the Iliad, we immediately come upon an overt equation of this word with the expression páthon álgea ‘suffered pains’, involving the same word álgea that we have already seen in the context of designating the grief that the Achaeans suffered from the mênis of Achilles (ἄλγεα: Iliad I 2) and from the mênis of Apollo (ἄλγεα: Iliad I 96, 110). This equation of ákhos with páthon álgea is to be found in the words of Achilles himself: In the present case, however, álgea designates the grief of Achilles over his loss of tīmḗ ‘honor’ (Iliad XVI 59), not the grief of the Achaeans. For Achilles to suffer his own álgea qualifies here as ákhos (Iliad XVI 55), yet we find only thirty-three hexameters earlier that the grief of the Achaeans during the Battle of the Ships also qualifies as ákhos: The word ákhos signals le transfert du mal: the ákhos of Achilles leads to the mênis of Achilles leads to the ákhos of the Achaeans.

5§22. Such a transfer has a religious dimension, as we can see from the traditions of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter. The ákhos of Demeter is instantaneous with the abduction of the Kore (Hymn to Demeter 40, 90–91). Her resulting mênis (Hymn to Demeter 350) causes devastation in the form of cosmic infertility (351 ff.). The tīmaí ‘honors’ of the Olympians are thus threatened (353–354), and it is only with the restoration of Kore that Demeter’s mênis ceases (410), as her ákhos abates (ἀχέων: 436). Demeter thereupon gets her appropriate tīmaí (461), and her anger (468) is replaced with fertility (469, 471 ff.).

5§23. Besides all the obvious convergences here, we must also note an important divergence from the pattern of Achilles: once Demeter’s mênis ceases, so too does her ákhos. This theme is also found directly in the cult traditions, as we see, for example, in the report about the Demeter of Arcadian Phigalia: the Moîrai ‘Fates’ persuaded her both ‘to lay aside her anger and to cease in her grief’ (ἀποθέσθαι μὲν τήν ὀργήν, ὑφεῖναι δὲ καὶ τῆς λύπης: Pausanias 8.42.3). [34] The pattern is different with the grief of Achilles. The abduction of Briseis brings instantaneous ákhos for Achilles (Iliad I 188), but this grief is not removed by the restoration of the girl, the vindication of his tīmḗ, and the cessation of his terrible mênis. Before these three events take place, the ákhos of Achilles is made permanent by the death of his surrogate Patroklos. When Achilles hears the news that Patroklos has been killed, his ákhos is instantaneous in the narrative (Iliad XVIII 22), and for this ákhos there is to be no remedy, as the earlier words of Odysseus had already predicted for Achilles: As Thetis predicts, Achilles will have grief for the rest of his life (ἄχνυται: Iliad XVIII 442–443). Earlier, he was grieving for Briseis (ἀχέων: Iliad XVIII 446); now he can grieve for Patroklos (ἀχεύων: Iliad XVIII 461), and after this ákhos there can be no other:

5§24. Whereas Achilles is the man of constant sorrow, the Achaeans have ákhos intermittently. And each time that they get a remission of ákhos in the Iliad, Achilles figures as the key factor. Initially, Apollo’s mênis had given them grief because of the abduction of Chryseis; their grief was relieved when Chryseis was restored, whereas the consequent abduction of Briseis gave grief to Achilles. Later, Achilles’ own mênis gave the Achaeans grief, which was then relieved when Patroklos beat back the onslaught of the Trojans at the Battle of the Ships. The consequent death of Patroklos then left Achilles without respite from grief.

5§25. During the intermittent period of ákhos for the Achaeans, the Trojans are described as having krátos ‘superior power’, and the complementary distribution of these two Homeric themes of ákhos/krátos is controlled by the Will of Zeus, the self-proclaimed “plot” of our Iliad. The key passage is I 509–510, where we find an overt correlation of the grief that is about to beset the Achaeans with the temporary awarding of krátos to the Trojans, and the correlation is under the control of Zeus. It is up to Zeus both to give krátos, as here (Iliad I 509), as well as to take it away, and the Achaeans in their plight fully realize the absence of krátos. [35] Diomedes speaks for them all when he says: That is, Diomedes speaks for all except for Achilles, who stands outside the common good of the Achaean host. For Achilles, the transfer of krátos from the Achaeans to the Trojans leads to his own tīmḗ (Iliad I 505–510), and the restoration of his tīmḗ is equivalent to the Will of Zeus (cf. also Iliad II 3–5), which in turn comes to pass with the grief of the Achaeans at the Battle of the Ships (Iliad I 2–5, 559; IX 608–609). When he is praying to Zeus, Achilles says it himself: With exactly these same words, the priest Chryses had prayed to Apollo (Iliad I 454); there too the lāós of the Achaeans was having grief, but that time it was still the mênis of Apollo that was causing it, not the mênis of Achilles.

5§26. Who, then, is this warrior, whose tīmḗ is instrumental in taking krátos from the lāós of the Achaeans and bringing them ákhos instead? Surely it is *Akhí-lāu̯os, the one who has grief for and of the lāós. The individual ákhos of the Achilles figure leads to the collective ákhos of the Achaean host during the Battle of the Ships, but it was their own earlier ákhos during the plague that had led to Achilles' ákhos. If there had been no abduction of Chryseis, leading to the ákhos of the Achaeans, there would have been no abduction of Briseis, leading to the ákhos of Achilles. Achilles was as instrumental in ridding the Achaeans of their first ákhos as he was in bringing upon them the second; in fact, he had even prayed to Zeus for the grief that would come upon them (Iliad XVIII 74–77; cf. I 408–412).

5§27. The Homeric theme of ákhos reflects not only on the individual nature of the Achilles figure but also on the collective {82|83} nature of the Achaean lāós. As for the word lāós, its traditional use in Homeric diction also reinforces the proposed reconstruction *Akhí-lāu̯os, inasmuch as lāós serves to designate the Achaeans specifically in a social sense: the Homeric lāós is a warrior society, a Männerbund. [37] As such, the function of the lāós corresponds ideologically to the Indo-European “second function,” in terms of Georges Dumézil's formulation. [38] This warrior society of the lāós, as my former student Dale Sinos has shown in detail, sets the ethical standards of our Iliad in terms of the bonds that unite the phíloi ‘friends’, who are the members of the lāós. [39] The epic stance of the individual Achilles toward the collective lāós thus presents an ethical problem that we will have to examine presently; for the moment, however, the pertinence of ákhos is the major issue. Here too, we will see that the theme of ákhos is central. When Achilles has his first ákhos, over Briseis, it separates him from the lāós. When he has his second ákhos, over Patroklos, it reintegrates him with the lāós.

5§28. When the first ákhos of Achilles separated him from the lāós, the lāós then got ákhos too. This theme of transference from the individual to the collective introduces yet another factor relevant to the etymology of Akhil(l)eús, namely the etymology of the word ‘Achaeans’, Akhaioí. In Homeric diction, this name Akhaioí functions as the synonym of Danaoí and Argeîo i, but its association with other words is idiosyncratic. In particular, I draw attention to the extremely common Homeric collocation of lāós/lāón with Akhaiôn {83|84} (and Akhaïkón). Since lāós is a social designation, we are encouraged to see here a parallel semantic function in the name that serves as its defining genitive, Akhaiôn (construction of the type urbs Romae). [40] Accordingly, we have an answer to the possible objection that Akhaioí cannot be derived from ákhos—on the grounds that the name may refer to a genuine people as well as an epic collective. The answer is this: the process of ethnic naming may itself be a social function, and the designation of a people may involve a mythopoeic or even ritualistic level. Surely such levels are present in the Homeric synonyms of Akhaioí, namely, Danaoí and Argeîoi. [41]

5§29. In fact, such mythopoeic and ritualistic levels are also present in the cult designation of Demeter as Akhaiā́ precisely in the context of her ákhos over the abduction of Kore. In Plutarch’s De Iside 378d, we read reports of mourning rites (πενθίμοις θυσίαις) practiced by various peoples during the period of sowing (October/November) to lament the abduction of the Kore. After citing the Thesmophoria of the Athenians, where he describes the second day of the festival (12 Pyanopsion) as a period of lamentation, Plutarch's survey turns to a corresponding ritual period in Boeotia: There is an overt correlation here between Demeter’s cult title Akhaiā́ and her ákhos ‘grief’ over the Descent of the Kore; [42] furthermore, her individual grief is correlated with the collective grief of the community that worships her. These correlations of the name Akhaiā́ are presented as a fact of cult; they are independent of the surface resemblance of the forms ákhos and Akhaiā́. I propose that we are dealing here with something more than a mere lexicographical association, as we might have thought if we had access only to such information as the following gloss:{84|85} As we have already seen, the word ákhos is the traditional designation of Demeter’s grief over the abduction of the Kore (Hymn to Demeter 40, 90, 436), just as Akhaiā́ serves as a traditional epithet of the grieving Demeter during a ritual period of lamentation. Even if we were to assume that the association of ákhos with Akhaiā́ results from a contrived etymology, we would still have to concede on the basis of Plutarch’s report that the contrivance itself must be traditional and deeply archaic, not some random figment of a lexicographer’s imagination. [43]

5§30. Besides the traditional association of ákhos with Akhaiā́ in cult, we have also seen the association of ákhos with Akhaioí in the central themes of the Iliad. This convergence of evidence leads us to suspect a lexical relationship between ákhos and Akhaio/ā-, and there are interesting morphological parallels that may serve as corroboration. Let us first compare the es-stem ákhos and adjectival Akhaió- with the es-stem krátos (/kártos) and adjectival krataió-. [44] This match is interesting from the thematic as well as formal point of view, since we have already seen that the word krátos (/kártos) is used in Homeric diction to designate the converse of ákhos, where the back-and-forth struggle of the Achaeans and Trojans is being described. [45] When the Achaeans are hard pressed with ákhos ‘grief’, it is the Trojans who have the krátos ‘superior power’ (Iliad I 509–510, etc.); conversely, when the Trojans are hard pressed, it is the Achaeans who have the krátos (Iliad VI 386–387, etc.). [46] It also seems pertinent to the back-and-forth theme of the Achaean/Trojan struggle that a noun for {85|86} which the adjective krataió- serves as fixed epithet is the word for ‘fate’: verse-final Moîra krataiḗ, as at V 83, XVI 334, etc. [47]

5§31. The adjective krataió- seems to be formed from the element kratai-/kartai-, as attested in compound adjectives like krataí-pedon ‘whose ground is firm [has krátos]’ (Odyssey xxiii 46: applying to oûdas ‘floor’). [48] In parallel onomastic formations, we find krati- as well as kratai-: thus Kratí-dêmos ‘whose dêmos has krátos’ as well as Kratai-ménēs ‘whose ménos [might] has krátos’. [49] On the basis, then, of its compounding patterns as well as its variant krati-, we may consider the element kratai- as part of a so-called Caland System. [50] Such a system would include the abstract noun with stem in -es- (krátos/kártos; Aeolic krétos even shows the expected e-grade of the root) and the adjectives with stems in -u- (kratú-) and -ro- (krateró-) compared to -i- in the first part of compounds (kratai-). [51] The vowels immediately before -ro- and -i- in krateró- and kratai- respectively are problematical, [52] but the overall system of krátos is {86|87} clear enough to allow comparison with what seems to be the system of ákhos:

5§32. The u-stem akhu- is visible in the n-infix verb ákh-n-u-tai (ἄχνυται, as at Iliad XVIII 443) corresponding to the noun ákhos, and also in akheúōn (ἀχεύων, as at Iliad XVIII 461), verse-final variant of verse-medial akhéōn (ἀχέων, as at Iliad XVIII 446); we have in fact already examined all three of these forms in the specific context of Achilles’ grief. [53] The type akhéōn must in turn be compared with kratéōn (κρατέων, as at Iliad XVI 172).

5§33. An i-stem *akhi- has already been posited as the first member in the reconstructed compound *Akhí-lāṷos ‘whose lāós has ákhos’. As for the hypothetical variant *ákhai- (cf. kratai- and krati-), it may well be visible in the name Akhai-ménēs, the Greek formal reinterpretation of Old Persian Haxā-manis̆. The morphological integrity of Akhai-ménēs (compared to ákhos) as a Greek formation is validated by such parallel formations as attested in the names Kratai-ménēs (compared to krátos) and Althai-ménēs (compared to álthos). [54] Note also the form akhai-menís, the name of a plant (pseudo-Dioscorides 3.110).

5§34. The es-stem noun corresponding to the name Althai-ménēs ‘whose ménos [might] has álthos’ requires special attention. [55] In {87|88} Hesychius, the entry álthos is glossed as phármakon ‘cure, drug’; the derivative an-althḗs ‘incurable’ is actually attested in the epic tradition (Iliou Persis fr. 5.6 Allen). This noun álthos corresponds to althaíā, the name of a plant that cures wounds (Theophrastus Historia Plantarum 9.15.5), and to Althaíē, the name of Meleager’s mother (Iliad IX 555); [56] we must also compare krataiā́, likewise the name of a plant (pseudo-Dioscorides 2.180). [57] The semantics of these forms suggest the possibility, however remote, that álthos (/Althaíē) may have been a thematic converse of ákhos (/Akhaiā́). Compare the function of ákos ‘cure’ as the converse of ákhos ‘grief’:

5§35. In view of such formal correspondences as

It would be tempting to consider

As a set of related forms. One formal problem that stands in the way is the Latin borrowing Achīuī, on the basis of which Akhaió- is conventionally reconstructed as *Akhaiu̯ó-. [59] Also, the form a-ka-wi-ja-de in the Linear B texts (KN C 914) has been tentatively interpreted as *Akhaiu̯iān-de ‘to Achaea’. [60] Yet I can find no morphological precedent for reconstructing a suffix *-u̯ó- as in *kratai-u̯ó- or *Akhai-u̯ó-. On the other hand, it may be possible to reconstruct krataió- and Akhaió- as original compounds containing the root *uī̆- ‘force’ as second element. The key is the verse-final form krataiís/Krátaiin in the Odyssey (Odyssey xi 597/xii 124).

5§36. At xi 597, krataiís (nominative) designates the supernatural force that sends the rock of Sisyphus rolling back again and again to {88|89} its starting point. At xii 124, Krátaiin (accusative) designates the mother of the man-eating immortal monster Scylla; according to the instructions of Circe, Odysseus and his men must call on Krataiís to restrain Scylla from attacking them again (Odyssey xii 124–126). Among other interpretations of the name Krataiís, the scholia (ad xii 597) offer krataiā̀ ī́s ‘force that has krátos’, with the immediate context cited as justification. In the appendix, I argue on morphological grounds that krataiís is in fact the personification of an adjective originally shaped *kratai-u̯ī̆- ‘whose ī́s [force] has krátos’. [61] For a semantic parallel, I adduce the compound Kratai-ménēs, which can be translated ‘whose ménos [might] has krátos’. Also, I adduce the expression kraterḕ ... ī̀s Odusêos (Iliad XXIII 720), which amounts to a periphrasis of an epithet + name combination such as *kratai-ménēs Oduseús. [62] In arguing for the parallelism of ménos and ī́s in Kratai-ménēs and *kratai-uī̆s, I can cite such epic combinations as hieròn ménos + genitive (Odyssey vii 167, viii 2, etc.) and hierḕ ī́s + genitive (Odyssey ii 409, xviii 405, etc.). [63]

5§37. In the appendix, I also present arguments in favor of interpreting the adjectives krataió-/Akhaió- as derived from compounds shaped *kratai-u̯ī̆-/*akhai-u̯ī̆- ‘whose ī́s has krátos/ákhos’. [64] In the case of *kratai-u̯ī̆-, we have just considered the semantic parallel of Kratai-ménēs ‘whose ménos [might] has krátos’, where the element ménos has the inherited function of being a synonym of ī́s. There is also another semantic parallel, one that is even closer to the posited compound krataió- on a formal level. Since the word bíē ‘might’ also functions as a synonym of ī́s (e.g., ī́s at Iliad XI 668 is equated with bíē at XI 670), we may now in addition cite the adjective/name krataí-bios/Krataí-bios ‘whose bíē has krátos’. [65] So much for the reconstruction *kratai-u̯ī̆-. As for *akhai-u̯ī̆-, I should note simply that its posited meaning ‘whose ī́s had ákhos’ corresponds to the primary martial function of the Akhaioí ‘Achaeans’ in epic action: their prowess entails ákhos for the enemy and, simultaneously, krátos for themselves. [66] Moreover, the Iliadic tradition features an interesting variation on this theme: because Achilles {89|90} withdraws from battle, the Achaeans temporarily lose krátos to the Trojans and they themselves are overwhelmed by ákhos. Epic diction actually conveys this reversed position of the Achaeans in terms of ákhos and bíē, synonym of ī́s: These words are spoken by Patroklos to Achilles, and they introduce a concrete description of the Achaeans’ plight now that all the major heroes save Achilles have been knocked out of action by Hektor’s onslaught (Iliad XVI 23–29). The perfect formation bebíēken ‘has brought bíē upon’ at XVI 22 reverses the martial function of the Achaeans from active to passive: they ‘whose ī́s has ákhos’ are no longer inflicting ī́s but are themselves afflicted by it, so that they, rather than the enemy, get the resulting ákhos. [68] To sum up, the warrior needs bíē to win in battle, but bíē is not enough. One can have bíē and still lose without the krátos that only Zeus can grant. [69] Even the cosmic régime of the Olympians is actually maintained by the combination of Krátos and Bíē personified (Hesiod Theogony 385–401). Thus he who is krataí-bios ‘whose bíē has krátos’ is one who not only has bíē but also wins because he has been granted krátos by the gods. The same goes for the kraterḕ ... ī́s of Odysseus at XXIII 720. But winning is an ambiguous prospect for the Akhaioí: their ī́s may fail to have krátos from the gods, and so the ákhos may be destined for them rather than the enemy.

5§38. So much, then, for the argument that Akhaiā́/Akhaioí is treated by epic diction as a derivative of ákhos ‘grief’. When we add the evidence of the strong thematic links between these words, we gain an important perspective on the social function of ákhos. On the level of cult, the title Akhaiā́ shows that the community becomes involved in the ákhos of Demeter by performing rites of lamentation. On the level of epic, the title Akhaioí shows that ákhos can afflict an entire aggregate of warriors. We had started our discussion of Akhaiā́/Akhaioí by stressing the social implications in the compo-{90|91} nent lāós of the reconstructed *Akhí-lāu̯os. [70] Now we see that the social implications extend to the component ákhos as well.

5§39. In this light, we may compare *Akhí-lāu̯os ‘whose lāós has grief’ with the name Kharílāos (from *Kharí-lāu̯os) ‘whose lāós has mirth’, as used in Archilochus fr. 168W. The poem addresses Kharilaos and then promises to give him pleasure by making him laugh: There are implications not only in the name Kharílāos but also in the patronymic Erasmonídēs ‘son of Erásmōn’, which is related to erásmios ‘lovely’; this adjective elsewhere describes the bloom of youth that inspires poetry (Anacreon fr. 375P). [71] Moreover, the verb térpō/térpomai ‘give/get pleasure’ conventionally designates the effect of poetry (e.g., Odyssey i 347). [72] We may also note the combination of erásmios ‘lovely’ and terpnós ‘pleasurable’ in Semonides 7.52W and compare the collocation of Erasmonídēs (Ἐρασμονίδη) and térpomai ‘get pleasure’ (τέρψεαι) in this poem of Archilochus. My point is that the pleasure and laughter promised by the poem are actually embodied in the element khari- of Kharí-lāos. [73] This element, as found in the noun kháris, [74] conveys the notion of ‘pleasure, mirth’ in conventional descriptions of poetry and its effects; [75] moreover, the context of such pleasure is social. [76] As the narrating Odysseus says in {91|92} ix 3–11, there is no accomplishment ‘having more kháris’ (χαριέστερον: line 5) than the eüphrosúnē ‘mirth’ that everyone in the dêmos ‘district’ experiences from the dinner hour performance of a poet. [77] So too with Kharí-lāos: he will get pleasure and laugh as “the most phílos [dear] of the hetaîroi [companions]” (φίλταθ᾽ ἑταίρων: line 3). In other words, the audience of the poem is a community (comprised of phíloi ‘friends’). [78] And the notion of community is also embodied in the element lāós of Kharí-lāos. [79]

5§40. If indeed the semantics of Kharí-lā(u̯)os and *Akhí-lāu̯os are comparable, we may note with interest the reaction of the lāós when Achilles suspends his mênis ‘anger’: Since the mênis ‘anger’ of Achilles had caused ákhos 'grief' for the Achaeans during the Battle of the Ships, [80] it is significant that the suspension of this same mênis now causes them ‘mirth’—as conveyed by the root khar- in ἐχάρησαν ‘were happy’ at XIX 74. This same root constitutes the first element of the compound Kharí-lāos ‘whose lāós has mirth’.

5§41. As we have seen, another traditional word for the dire military situation of the Achaeans during the Battle of the Ships is loigós ‘devastation’. [81] Since the grief caused by the mênis of Achilles is thus a devastation as well, we may suppose that a name like Kharílāos could convey the notion that the lāós has mirth because some devastation is suspended. In view of this possibility, let us consider the social function of the name Kharila in Delphic myth and ritual. From the report of Plutarch Quaestiones Graecae 293e, we learn that Kharila designates not only a Delphic festival but also the figure commemorated in that festival. The corresponding myth tells that Kharila was a starving girl who begged for a share of food that {92|93} was being distributed in the community by the king; when the king knocked her away with his shoe, she hanged herself. During the enneateric festival of Kharila, a ritual dummy that is also called Kharila is knocked away by the king of the festival, whereupon it is hanged by its neck and then buried. As is generally agreed, the theme of the festival is fertility by way of banishing hunger. [82] Both the myth and the ritual of Kharila reveal an archaic social foundation in general and an archaic judicial system in particular. [83] On the basis of the social function inherited by the name Kharila, I suggest that the form may be a truncated variant of *Kharílāu̯os. We have in fact already seen other such variants: Khárillos and Kharíllēs. [84] {93|}