Introduction. A Word on Assumptions, Methods, Results

I§1. My approach to archaic Greek poetry is based on two major working assumptions. One, the mechanics and artistry of a given poem are traditional not only on the level of form—let us call it diction —but also on the level of content—let us call it theme. Two, the diction is a most accurate expression of the theme.

I§2. The basis for my understanding of Greek poetic diction is the work of Milman Parry on Homeric phraseology, which can be summed up in his concise definition of the formula: "a group of words which is regularly employed under the same metrical conditions to express a given essential idea." [1] The mechanical nature of the formula is reflected by what Parry called the principle of economy. [2] Denys Page restates the principle: "Generally speaking, for a given idea within a given place in the line, there will be found in the vast treasury of phrases one formula and one only." [3] Page goes on to offer an illustration by examining all the Homeric expressions for the concept of "sea": [4] There is, however, something troublesome here about the insistence on the poet's lack of freedom to say accurately whatever he means. It seems as if the factor of metrics were in control of what can or cannot be said. In this particular case of adjectives describing the sea, for instance, we are being told that the poet had no choice but to accept the various epithets that tradition had thrust upon him to fill out the various metrical positions of the Greek hexameter.

I§3. In short, Parry's work on the mechanics of Homeric diction has caused a serious problem of esthetics for generations of Hellenists reared on the classical approaches to the Iliad and Odyssey: how can compositions that have always seemed so deliberate and integral in their artistry result from a system of diction that is so mechanical—one might almost say automatic? For various Homeric experts the solution lies in objecting to various aspects of Parry's findings: the genius of Homer must somehow be rescued from the workings of a formulaic system. [5] For me, however, it is easier to accept Parry's work and to proceed from there by looking for a solution in the factor of tradition itself.

I§4. Let us take another glance at the Homeric deployment of epithets. Granted, Parry's descriptive approach shows us that the choice of epithets is regulated by metrical factors. On the other hand, the historical approach of comparative reconstruction reveals much more. [6] From my own previous studies using this approach, I have learned that certain fixed noun + epithet combinations in Homeric diction go back to a time that predates the very existence of the Greek hexameter; [7] further, that the choice of epithet is ultimately determined by themes that can be reconstructed all the way to a period when Greek was not yet differentiated from its sister languages in the Indo-European family. [8] With the help of such findings, I have developed the theory that Greek meter itself is a long-range result of regularizations in the formal patterns of traditional poetic {2|3} diction. [9] Granted, diction is indeed regulated by meter from the descriptive point of view, but this regulation is from the historical point of view only the result of a more basic principle, namely, that diction is ultimately regulated by theme. [10]

I§5. My theory, then, has it that theme is the overarching principle in the creation of traditional poetry like the Iliad and the Odyssey; also, that the formulaic heritage of these compositions is an accurate expression of their thematic heritage. Such a theory helps account for the problems raised by Parry's theory of the formula. Did the poet really mean this or that? Did he really intend such-and-such an artistic effect? My general answer would be that the artistic intent is indeed present—but that this intent must be assigned not simply to one poet but also to countless generations of previous poets steeped in the same traditions. In other words, I think that the artistry of the Homeric poems is traditional both in diction and in theme. For me the key is not so much the genius of Homer but the genius of the overall poetic tradition that culminated in our Iliad and Odyssey.

I§6. To my mind there is no question, then, about the poet's freedom to say accurately what he means. What he means, however, is strictly regulated by tradition. The poet has no intention of saying anything untraditional. In fact, the poet's inherited conceit is that he has it in his power to recover the exact words that tell what men did and said in the Heroic Age. [11] {3|4}

I§7. These theoretical underpinnings have fostered a general attitude of literal mindedness in my approach to the concept of the hero in archaic Greek poetry. In the pages that follow, I will as a policy assume that the application of an epithet—whether it be fixed or particularized—is thematically appropriate as well as traditional. [12] Moreover, my working assumption extends from the usage of epithets in particular to the usage of words in general: the entire formula, to repeat, is an accurate response to the requirements of traditional theme. [13] I stress this point now in order to prepare the reader for the oncoming plethora of transliterated Greek words that I will be continually citing in my discussion of central poetic themes. My reliance on key words in context cannot be dismissed as a reductive and oversimplified method of delving into the thematic complexities of archaic Greek poetry, if indeed the words themselves are functioning elements of an integral formulaic system inherited precisely for the purpose of actively expressing these complexities. The words should not be viewed merely as random vocabulary that passively reflects the themes sought by the poet. The semantic range of a key word in context can be expected to be as subtle and complex as the poetry in which it is encased.

I§8. In the course of confronting the diverse problems entailed by my overall inquiry, I have found that the most striking confirmation of my literal readings has been the remarkable pattern of correspondences between the deployment of key words on the one hand and, on the other, the artistic unity of the Iliad and the Odyssey as compositions. I should emphasize that the positing of a unitary Iliad and a unitary Odyssey has been for me not an end in itself, one that is continually threatened by contextual inconsistencies in this Homeric passage or that. Rather, it has been a means for solving the problems presented by these inconsistencies. Whatever Homeric passages seem at first to be inconsistent in the short range may in the long range be the key to various central themes of the overall Iliad or {4|5} Odyssey—central messages that are hidden away from those of us, such as we are, who have not been raised by Hellenic society as the appreciative audience of Epos.

I§9. Unlike most Homerists who perceive an artistic unity in the Iliad and the Odyssey, however, I would still prefer to reconcile what I see with what Parry has discovered about formulaic composition, with all that his discoveries imply about the traditional predetermination of diction. In this respect I find myself in the congenial company of Michael Nagler, [14] although my work lays less emphasis on the poet's thought processes and more on the poet's tradition. From my point of view, the way to reconcile the factor of formulaic composition with the factor of artistic unity is to infer that both are a matter of tradition. The unity of a masterpiece like the Iliad may itself be the product of a lengthy evolution in the artistic streamlining of form and content. [15]

I§10. If indeed tradition is a principal factor in the artistic integrity of an archaic Greek poem, it follows that we need not simply attempt to ascribe an Iliad or an Odyssey to the creativity of one genius, the poet Homer. I prefer to follow the same line of reasoning in the case of Hesiodic poetry. Whatever unity we may discover in the Theogony and in the Works and Days need not lead us to the certainty that we have just found the "author" called Hesiod. Nor can we with any certainty recover an "author" by the name of Homer (or by any other name) on the basis of the Homeric Hymns. Granted, the Theogony itself names Hesiod as its composer (verse 22); [16] or again, the Homeric Hymn to Apollo actually presents itself as a poem composed by a blind poet from Chios whose songs are heard throughout the city-states of the Hellenes—surely the figure of Homer himself (verses 166–176). [17] Nevertheless, we will have a chance to see that the references made by an archaic poem to its composer, or "author," are not so much a personal attempt by the poet to identify himself but rather a formal reflection of the poetry upon its own importance: the archaic poem presents itself retrospec-{5|6} tively as something transmitted by the ultimate poet. [18] Even the poems of a historical figure like Pindar tend to present their composer as a mere function or instrument of the poetry itself. In short, an archaic poem establishes its authority primarily by asserting the traditions upon which it is built.

I§11. My criteria, then, for determining the integrity of poetic composition do not directly involve questions of authorship. In the case of something like Hesiod fragment 204MW, for example, it does not matter for my purposes whether this piece of archaic poetry was or was not composed by a person who may be identified as Hesiod: all that matters to me is whether I have comparative evidence to show that the given poetry is traditional in theme and diction and that its traditions are cognate with the ones we find in the Theogony or Works and Days. [19]

I§12. I should add that any single composition may well be built from multiple traditions. In fact, the Homeric poems are prodigiously versatile in integrating a plethora of various different traditions in epic narrative. [20] Moreover, they even adapt and then integrate a variety of traditions in poetic genres other than epic. [21] My point remains, however, simply that the unity achieved by the Iliad and the Odyssey in their integration of various different traditions is itself an overall tradition.

I§13. In archaic Greek poetry, the principle of unity in composition may be the result of social as well as artistic factors. In the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, for example, the integrity of the poem results from the fusion of two traditions about Apollo, the Delian and the Pythian, but the artistic fusion of the two distinct traditions implies a corresponding social fusion of two distinct audiences. The worship of Delian Apollo is the founding principle uniting the city-states on the Aegean Islands and on the coast of Asia Minor—precisely those Hellenic areas that are not included in the vast affiliation of city-states united in the worship of Pythian Apollo at Delphi. [22] Since the {6|7} Homeric Hymn to Apollo is appropriate to the city-states under the sway of the Delian as well as the Pythian Apollo, its range of audience is truly Panhellenic in scope.

I§14. Mention of the Panhellenic orientation that we find in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo brings us now to a vital contribution to our understanding of Homeric composition—from the field of archaeology. A recent archaeological synthesis by Anthony Snodgrass has made it clear that the eighth century B.C., the very era in which the Iliad and the Odyssey approached their ultimate form, was a watershed in the evolution of Hellenic civilization; alongside the emergence of the pólis 'city-state' as a general institution with a strong trend of localized traditions (cult, law, etc.), there emerged a commensurately strong trend of intercommunication among the elite of the city-states—the trend of Panhellenism. [23] Some specific manifestations of the latter trend are:

establishment of the Olympic Gamesestablishment of the Pythian Apollo's Sanctuary and Oracle at Delphiorganized colonizationsproliferation of the alphabet.

Such institutions as the Olympic Games and the Delphic Oracle, both stemming from the eighth century, are of course monumental feats of intersocial organization and also of intercultural synthesis. [24] Significantly, the same can be said of Homeric Epos itself. From the internal evidence of its contents, we see that this poetic tradition synthesizes the diverse local traditions of each major city-state into a unified Panhellenic model that suits most city-states but corresponds exactly to none; the best example is the Homeric concept of the Olympian gods, which incorporates, yet goes beyond, the localized religious traditions of each city-state. [25] We also know that the Iliad and the Odyssey had proliferated throughout the city-states at the time that they reached their present form; it may be, then, that the Panhellenic nature of Homeric Epos is due not only to its composition but also to its proliferation. [26] {7|8}

I§15. Moreover, composition and proliferation need not necessarily be related as an event followed by a process: the evolution of the fixed texts that we know as the Iliad and Odyssey may be envisaged as a cumulative process, entailing countless instances of composition/performance in a tradition that is becoming streamlined into an increasingly rigid form as a result of ever-increasing proliferation. [27] Again we come to the image of that blind singer from Chios, the poet in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo (166–176). [28] If indeed such a figure amounts to an idealized retrojection based on the poetic tradition's sense of its own glory, [29] then we may also see the actual factor of proliferation reflected in the poet's boast that his songs are heard throughout the city-states of mankind: In this connection, we cannot afford to ignore the actual existence of poetic organizations like the Homērídai of Chios and the Kreōphu-{8|9}leîoi of Samos—both of which had a heritage of strong Panhellenic affiliations. [31] The very concept of Hómēros may be reflected by the inherited function of the Homērídai. [32] In sum, I think of Homeric poetry as a masterpiece of organization not only in an artistic but also in a social dimension. [33]

I§16. The Panhellenic character of the Iliad and the Odyssey is actually reflected—albeit indirectly—by the two Panhellenic institutions that we have considered, the Sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi and the Olympics. As we shall see later in detail, the death of Achilles is a theme officially celebrated in the paiā́n 'paean', a form of song performed in worship of Apollo at Delphi (Pindar Paean 6). [34] Also, Achilles was traditionally mourned by the women of Elis in a ceremony that inaugurated the holding of the Olympics every four years (Pausanias 6.23.3). [35] As we shall also see, these traditional practices concerning Achilles reflect a latent dimension of the prime figure of Panhellenic Epos: even in classical times and beyond, he was also a figure in cult.

I§17. We will have ample opportunity to examine the religious dimension of the Hellenic hero in cult. For now I wish only to insist on the most fundamental aspect: that the hero must experience death. The hero's death is the theme that gives him his power—not only in cult but also in poetry. We as readers of Hellenic poetry can still sense it. When a hero enters combat in the Homeric Epos, we are fully aware of the intense seriousness of it all: he will confront death. Not even the lofty Olympians can match that, since they cannot die; when the pro-Achaean gods enter combat with their pro-Trojan counterparts in Iliad XXI, the results cannot be fatal—and they cannot be serious either. For the Achilles of Homeric Epos, on the {9|10} other hand, I will argue that the reality of death has a religious dimension that corresponds to the traditional ideology of hero cults.

I§18. In this connection, it would be apt for me to quote a particularly intuitive observation linking the factor of hero cults with the factor of artistic unity in Homeric composition: [36] So much for intuition; what about evidence? Here again we get a vital contribution to our understanding of Homeric poetry from the field of archaeology. The Greek religious institution of hero cults, in much the same form that we see even in the classical era, can be traced back all the way to the eighth century B.C.—the same archaic era in which the Iliad and the Odyssey were attaining their ultimate form. [37]

I§19. Accordingly, I have set as my main goal the answer to this vital question about the Achilles of our Iliad: does this Panhellenic figure possess the religious dimension of a cult hero even within Epos? There are other questions that are related: how is myth stylized in epic, and how does poetry in general express the connections between myth and ritual? In the course of my lengthy inquiry into the problem of heroes in cult, heroes in epic, I will be presenting a wealth of evidence in the form of passages from archaic Greek poetry in general and from Homeric Epos in particular. [38] From {10|11} a careful reading of these passages, we will, I hope, enhance our overall understanding of the many-sided heroes who appear in them. In some cases, we will even discover a heroic dimension in the figures who are said to be the actual makers of Greek poetry—including Homer. [39] But the focus is not on Homer but on Achilles and Odysseus. My prime concern is that each of us may arrive at his own understanding of whoever is "best of the Achaeans."{11|}