Chapter 10. The Rhetorics of Supplication and the Epic Intertext (Iliad I 493–516)

Intertextual references that do not belong to specific epic traditions can become thematically associated intratextual sequences in Homeric epic. One form of this arrangement consists of proximal sequences, where topics originating from different versions of a given mythical context are presented intratextually as part of a thematic chain. Cumulative arrangement with its built-in linearity leads to a compacting of material and a resulting dramatic intensification, since tattered pieces of myth are rewoven into a new, thick web of associations. In this chapter, I address, by way of a case study, Thetis’ supplication to Zeus in Iliad I, a scene of special importance for the poem as a whole. In my analysis I will follow the deployment of the scene and examine how its structure and diction help us reconstruct the epic intertext from which it stems.

Although the Iliad moves on various levels and rotates between different poles, [1] one set of boundaries is Thetis’ supplication to Zeus (forming the last part of the scene that begins with the meeting between Thetis and Achilles in Iliad I), and Priam’s supplication to Achilles (in Iliad XXIV), which brings the epic to an end. [2] Thetis’ supplication also functions as a nucleus that introduces themes running through the entire epic. Its importance lies in its hybrid nature, since it operates as a miniature model, or rather a pattern, presenting narrative threads that evolve and create larger units as the plot unravels. These themes include Achilles’ short life-span, his liminality as a hero, the antithesis between honor and life, and the fulfillment of Zeus’ will (Διὸς βουλή). Before I embark on a detailed stylistic analysis of Iliad I 493–516, I would like to summarize the findings in recent scholarship on Homer that are relevant to my research.

“The plot of the Iliad traces a development between two successful supplications: Thetis’ supplication to Zeus in Book I, in which she bids Zeus to honor her son (τίμησόν μοι υἱόν), and Priam’s supplication to Achilles, by means of which Zeus conclusively honors Achilles and guarantees that he will have glory, or kudos.” [3] Crotty, whose formulation I have just quoted, traces a poetics of supplication in the evolution of a deliberate contrast between the divine fate of Thetis and the mortal doom of her son Achilles. Zeus’ will (Διὸς βουλή) is inaugurated with a prayer, which expresses the goddess’ confidence “in her power to bring about her wishes (by offering an exchange of goods),” [4] but that is capped (in Iliad XXIV) by an old man’s supplication, “which expresses the indifference of the world to the suppliant’s wishes.” [5]

The disparity between the immortality of the mother (Thetis) and the short life span of her son (Achilles) becomes a central theme around which the poem evolves and by which it differentiates itself from the previous tradition. In fact, a specific group of scholars, the so-called Neoanalysts, have strongly argued that the mother-son relationship (epitomized in the Thetis-Achilles pair) becomes one of the principal thematic areas where the Iliad’s divergence from older epic poems, such as a pre-Homeric *Achilleis (Kakridis) or *Memnonis (Schadewaldt), can be observed. Thetis, for all her similarities to her Aethiopic counterpart Eos, will not grant immortality to Achilles as Eos did to Memnon in the post-Homeric Aethiopis, [6] but will offer him the chance to regain his honor, which, as she well knows, will definitely lead to his death. Consequently, “what Thetis asks Zeus to give Achilles is the opportunity to become the hero of the Iliad, to create the terms by which heroism will be redefined,” [7] as well as the terms by which the subject matter of the poem will be thematically verbalized, I might add. On the level of plot, Thetis’ supplication unravels the first narrative thread of the poem, i.e. the fulfillment of Achilles’ will, which is how the Iliad ‘translates’ his wrath (μῆνις) against Agamemnon. Thetis’ supplication and its subsequent approval by Zeus become the driving forces of the plot until the moment its narrative élan is cut short, being subsumed and absorbed by another, even greater theme: Achilles’ new wrath (μῆνις) against Hector. This new wrath will eventually come to an end through a final supplication by Priam, which will only be possible in its turn by a complete reversal of the order of meetings between Achilles-Thetis-Zeus in the beginning of Iliad I. [8]

Supplication forms one of the major subgenres used by the heroic performer. [9] Martin [10] has argued that, although speeches in the Iliad are highly stylized poetic versions of reality, they still retain their mimetic character, as they tend to reflect the poet’s knowledge of how his contemporaries express their feelings and ideas. Archaic coloring and traditional elements are not absent from the speeches, but, as recent studies have shown, [11] it is there (in the speeches) that most of the innovations occur. In Martin’s own words, “although we see Mycenaean memories in the narrative of Iliadic fighting, there is no comparable body of material for the poet to recall when reporting what Agamemnon, Odysseus, or Achilles says. Composition is less subject to tradition here. Speech is qualitatively different; unlike diegesis, it is the arena for pure mimesis.” [12] This mimetic character observed in Homeric speeches may also be connected to the basic distinction Martin makes between muthos and epos: “[A] muthos focuses on what the speaker says and how he or she says it, but epos consistently applies to what the addressee hears.” [13] Under this scope, the relation between Thetis and Zeus in Iliad I is reflected both in the kind of speech employed by the suppliant (Thetis) and in the form of speech-act she believes she is performing. For in Iliad I 419 she calls the speech that Achilles wants her to address to Zeus an epos although it is a kind of command, albeit in the form of a supplication. This leveling out of the observable distinction between the two terms (muthos and epos, respectively) can be explained by the fact that muthos refers to authoritative (marked) speech, and epos to non- (necessarily) authoritative speech. Thetis’ designation of Achilles’ speech in Iliad I 419 as an epos is therefore indeterminate and does not necessarily mean that she views Achilles’ speech as an unimportant utterance. At the same time, her using of the term epos shows that she considers her speech to be non-authoritative and “focuses on message, as perceived by the addressee, rather than on performance as enacted by the speaker.” [14] These scrupulous observations may help us understand and appreciate more fully the internal rhetoric of Thetis’ speech as well as its importance for the weaving of the poetics of the Iliad as a whole.

In his study of the poetic significance of formal repetition in Homer, Kahane [15] has pointed to the use of certain semantic markers, such as localization, meter, and verse-structure determining the range of meanings for a specific word, thus contributing to what is today considered to be an essential epic property, polysemy. To the basic denotation of a word, Kahane adds reference specification by the immediate verbal context and also a context-free thematic reference provided by pattern deixis. In this light, it becomes clear that semantic monopoly, to put it bluntly, is basically absent from the Homeric poems.

Since the 1960s there has been an increase in the publication of studies providing reassessment of the oral-formulaic theory. [16] Most of these studies have modified our “Parryan” concept of a rigid formulaic system based on the assumption of orality: Kahane’s view reflects my own opinion with respect to the dilemma between oral versus literate composition. Let me add that localization of metrical shapes is not incompatible with oral modes of verse composition, but is not typical of works orally composed since statistical data concerning localization of hapax legomena for written hexameter poetry such as that of Apollonius and Callimachus closely parallel the ones referring to the Iliad and the Odyssey. [18] As far as structural formulas are concerned, one should bear in mind that “a literate poet imitating and/or innovating on the basis of an earlier Homeric, or oral, or traditional poem, or any two or all of these, would have certainly had time to choose positioning according to his own design. The literary poet could invent as many expressions as he chose …” [19] Repetition can be of various sorts. It can include words, word groups, metrical and syntactical patterns, or even whole verses. The reproduction of these patterns is the result of the tradition working within the mind of the singer. Repetitive melodic, metrical, syntactical, and acoustical patterns form a grammar of poetry, “a grammar superimposed, as it were, on the grammar of the language concerned … The speaker of this language, once he has mastered it, does not move more mechanically within it than we do in ordinary speech.” [20] This is certainly true for the singer composing within the limits determined by the grammar of poetry. On the other hand, repetition refers to pattern usage and pertains more to reception than to composition. To make this point more clear: my view is that both an ancient audience and a modern reader “are not directly subject to the exigencies of oral composition,” [21] and so repetition is significant for them since they do not operate at the level of the singer’s compositional process, but on the level of the reception of his work. [22]

Sharing both a compositional and a reception-oriented aspect, polysemy and repetition allow traditional epic to build and also teach its listeners its own special poetic grammar. Under this scope, themes of cardinal importance to the plot are embedded in the audience’s interpretive code and become ‘members’ of a larger ‘family’ of associations. They are constituent parts of a system that is intertextually derived on a compositional level, but intratextually functional on the level of its reception by the audience during the performance.

The scene that presents Thetis supplicating Zeus is divided into three discernible phases of unequal length: 1. An introductory portion (I 493–499); 2. Thetis’ first appeal (I 503–510); 3. Thetis’ second appeal, introduced by three “intermediate verses” (I 511–516).

After the meeting between Achilles and Thetis at the seashore, Odysseus’ delivery of Chryseis to her father followed by his propitiating sacrifice to Apollo, and a brief comment on Achilles’ withdrawal from battle, the scene changes to describe the local and temporal circumstances under which the supplication will take place.

The staging of the supplication at Olympos is effectuated by the formulaic couplet of verses in I 493–494. They are emphatically related by their initial phrases, ἀλλ᾿ ὅτε δή and καὶ τότε δή, and are strongly formulaic in their components: [23]

The structural symmetry of these two verses gives an awe-inspiring tone to the passage. The syntactic predictability without abrupt change in the lining up of its components highlights the solemnity of the supplication scene. [25] The picture of all the gods returning to Olympos with Zeus at their head acquires the rhythm of a venerable, majestic pace, aurally perceptible through the repetition of a familiar sound at verse-initial position.

Recent studies on Homeric diction have drawn attention to the importance of the use of specific particles in the presentation of the story and, more significantly, in the participation of the audience in the unfolding of the plot. Bakker [26] notes the importance of drawing the listener into the scene and creating a shared basis for the narrator and the audience “as if they were actually jointly witnessing a given scene.” Homeric diction uses particular particles, or clusters of particles, and temporal correlatives to achieve this goal, one of which is the ‘pair’ ὅτε-τότε. Their use is more common at significant breaks in the story (e.g. in the return of the gods from the Aethiopes in I 493–494), when the narrator most needs the participation of the listener. The singer attempts to create a shared basis, a common experience that unites narrator and audience as if they were present at the unfolding of a particular event or, to put it otherwise, as if they are both witnessing the same scene. Let us consider our present case (Iliad I 493–494): By stressing the here and now of the events he is referring to, the external narrator [28] employs the correlatives ὅτε-τότε to make his account vivid. [29] The use of the apodotic καί in this sort of passage (see Iliad XVI 780; XVIII 350; XXII 209) coordinates what Chafe [30] has successfully called “regulatory intonation units,” mapping out the flow of two “substantive intonation units,” which create two balancing pairs. [31] In this way, the convergence between the time period of twelve days and the moment the gods return to Olympos is effectively brought to the present of the performance. It is as if the bard has said ‘the gods are now (καὶ τότε δή) returning to Olympos, just at the point of completion of a twelve-day period (ὅτε δή ῥ᾿ ἐκ τοῖο δυωδεκάτη γένετ᾿ ἠώς)’. From this kind of utterance the audience is invited to ‘notice’ the twelve-day period and evaluate it within the notion of time fostered by Iliadic song. In accordance with what was said above on polysemy and repetition, Iliadic epic attempts to ‘teach’ its listeners its own poetic grammar and, in this case, its own grammar of time. In order to appreciate this kind of subtle system, we need to place it within the nexus of other relevant expressions of a twelve-day period. Such a time interval, typically expressed by ἠώς that is placed at verse-end, [32] bears a striking similarity to two other twelve-day periods in Iliad XXIV. [33] Scholars have struggled to count the exact days described by the Iliadic plot, and have even developed theories about the way ‘dawns’ or ‘days’ should be numbered. They have thus failed to see that the symmetry between the beginning and end of the poem does not ‘depend’ on details of this sort. In cases like this, what really matters is the synchronic description of the ‘twelve-day’ period within archaic Greek poetry. [34] Such similarities are diachronically due to the fact that “the formula system developed around expressions such as δυωδεκάτη γένετ᾿ Ἠώς | and | ἥδε δυωδεκάτη … and so on.” [35] On the other hand, “the analysis of system, or the synchronic approach, is logically prior to a diachronic approach because systems are more intelligible than changes.” [36] In this light, the grammar of time employed by the Iliadic tradition indicates to the audience that the twelve-day period is a device that aims to open and close the poem. By being synchronically observable through its repetition, this time frame becomes functional on the level of the epic’s performance, turning the relevant supplication scenes into ‘oral indicators’ of the song’s beginning and end.

Taplin, [37] who has argued for a performance of the Iliad in three days to match the internal structure of the poem (according to his own reading) with the actual performance time, has noted the importance of the placement of specific characters or events at performance junctures. Thetis comes to the narrative foreground at crucial turning-points in the poem: at the beginning of part I (Iliad I 1 - IX 713) she visits Achilles and then supplicates Zeus (I 493–494); at the end of part II (XVIII 369) she ascends to Hephaestus’ place in Olympos to carry a new request after having visited Achilles to ease his pain and grief at the loss of Patroclus; at the end of part III (beginning of Iliad XXIV) “her summons to Olympos leads into the concluding resolution of Achilleus’ anger.” [38] In this light, the return of the gods from the Aethiopes on the twelfth day places a time-boundary after which the fulfillment of the Διὸς βουλή ‘will of Zeus’ and the μῆνις ‘wrath’ of Achilles are practically set in motion. Mutatis mutandis, the use of an equivalent time frame towards the end of the epic reveals to the audience that the μῆνις ‘wrath’ of Achilles will end only when a second Διὸς βουλή ‘will of Zeus’ is implemented. The agent effectuating this implementation is none other than Thetis. Like a bard, she persuades the internal audience (Zeus in Iliad I and Achilles in Iliad XXIV) either to listen to the Iliadic song or to accept its closure. Under this scope, supplications, involving Thetis as the suppliant on the one hand, and Zeus or Achilles as supplicandi on the other, belong to a synchronically conceived system that opens and closes the Iliad.

The external audience is already aware (after Achilles’ request that his mother supplicate Zeus) of the fact that the main players will be Thetis and Zeus. The characters’ juxtaposition in verse I 495 brings about a half-verse cumulation leading from πάντες ἅμα to Ζεὺς δ᾿ ἦρχε and subsequently creates an antithesis between Zeus and the rest of the gods. [39] The plethora of gods returning to Olympos stands in drastic contrast to their leader, who is designated by a short clause (Ζεὺς δ᾿ ἦρχε). This distinction is, of course, based on hierarchy but it will become particularly relevant to both the ensuing supplication scene and to the entire system of supplications based on the special link between Zeus and Achilles. [40] Zeus, the only god mentioned by name, is synchronically presented as a separate and independent agent, whose opposition to the rest of the Olympians will become obvious as the plot unravels. In the previous scene, Achilles has just reminded Thetis of a story she used to tell him, according to which she had saved Zeus from a plan concocted by Hera, Poseidon, and Athena (Iliad I 396–406). The intertextual provenance of this enmity is intratextually reasserted by the various divine quarrels and rivalries observable in the Iliadic plot, [41] but it also needs to be mirrored on the micro-narrative of this supplication, considering that its hybrid nature makes it almost archetypal for the rest of the epic.

After the return of the gods to Olympos, the poet zooms his narrative lens on Thetis, whose ascending movement is described in detail. Her rise from the swell of the sea and subsequent ascent is presented as a gradual process comprising three distinct phases: rising from the sea (ἀνεδύσετο), ascending (ἀνέβη), and reaching the highest point of Olympos, where Zeus is seated alone, away from the other immortals (… ἄτερ ἥμενον ἄλλων // ἀκροτάτῃ κορυφῇ πολυδειράδος Οὐλύμποιο). The special care bestowed on the description of this movement is also observable in the three consecutive aural repetitions that facilitate the audience’s perception of the meeting between the two gods. The associative syllabic repetition of ane in ἀνεδύσετο, ἀνέβη, which highlights Thetis, is followed by the assonance of eur (ηὗρεν-εὐρύοπα) [42] in verse I 498, which links the suppliant (Thetis) and the supplicandus (Zeus). The third syllabic repetition of kro (Κρονίδην – ἀκροτάτῃ κορυφῇ), giving emphasis to the word Κρονίδην, [43] results in the ‘aural isolation’ of Zeus. In this way, the listeners would have been able to follow acoustically the entire scene of Thetis’ ascension, from the moment she rose from the sea until she ‘found’ Zeus in a state of ‘pre-eminent isolation’ away from the other immortals. The structural autonomy of these two couplets, as indicated by the repetition of the word ‘Olympos’ at verse-terminal position at the end of each distich, facilitates a significant change of rhythm. The first two verses devoted to Thetis (I 496–497) are marked by their intensive, accelerating rhythm, which is created by their four cola structure. Conversely, the other two (I 498–499) display a slower rhythm, due to their being comprised of three and two cola, respectively. This progressive decrease in the number of cola, a slowing down of the speed, reflects on a rhythmic register the initial acceleration of Thetis going up to mount Olympos and her deceleration, when she finds Zeus:

The analysis of the diction and style of the passage introducing the supplication scene has shown that the Iliadic tradition took great pains to highlight for its audience the movement of both Thetis and Zeus (accompanied by the other gods) toward mount Olympos. The placement of Thetis at the bottom of the sea, her usual abode, is expected, but Zeus’ absence in the Aethiopes deserves further inquiry.

Divine journeys to the land of the Aethiopes are well known in Homeric epic. [45] They are mainly used to allow time for other contemporaneous actions to happen, [46] as in Iliad XXIII 205–207 and Odyssey i 22–27. [47] On the other hand, the situation described in Iliad I 493–499 results in the collapse of one of the basic assumptions of a supplication scene, according to which the suppliant goes to the location of the supplicandus. The mental template on which such a notion is based is reflected both in the regular terminology used for ‘suppliant’, ‘supplication’, and ‘supplicate’ in Greek language and in the diction employed by the Iliadic tradition. The typical words ἱκέτης ‘suppliant’, ἱκεσία ‘supplication’, and ἱκετεύω ‘supplicate’ are cognate to the verbs ἱκάνω / ἱκνέομαι ‘to go towards, to approach’. [48] Although the verb employed in Thetis’ meetings with Achilles and Zeus in Iliad I is λίσσομαι, the ‘approach’ to the supplicandus by the suppliant is still inherent in the use of the verb εἶμι ‘I will go’, which is twice used for that purpose in the scene between Achilles and Thetis. [49]

The scene of Zeus’ return from the Aethiopes seems rather ‘vexing’, since it will be subsequently followed by another movement, Thetis’ ascension from the sea to Olympos. In fact, the Iliadic staging of this scene testifies to the existence of certain fissures in the narrative. One of them, perhaps the most important, concerns the antithesis between the description of Thetis’ ascent and the lack of any details concerning the gods’ journey of return. It seems as if Thetis’ ascent to Olympos belongs to the kernel of this scene, given that she lives at the bottom of the sea, whereas the return of the immortals stems from another poetic environment, an epic tradition in which the gods’ journey to the Aethiopes would have been directly and internally linked to an ensuing supplication scene.

Before embarking on a search for this tradition, I would like to stress the fact that the Iliadic epic explicitly states (I 424) that the gods go to the land of the Aethiopes κατὰ δαῖτα ‘to feast’. [50] The feast is always offered by a host who invites his guests to his house or palace and offers them food, drink, and entertainment. Homeric epic highlights features pertaining to the feast offered to the immortals in the land of the Aethiopes, but carefully refrains from stating who offered the feast. Hesiodic epic (Theogony 984–985) tells us that the king of these pious people was Memnon, son of the goddess Ἠώς ‘Eos/Dawn’ and the mortal Tithonus. Given that the Homeric tradition explicitly refers to Eos and Tithonus (XI 1–2 = v 1-2) and that Memnon, [51] king of the Aethiopes and opponent of Achilles, belonged to an oral tradition prior to that of the Iliad, as can be argued from the content of the post-Homeric Aethiopis by Arctinus and relevant artistic representations, it is reasonable to focus on the figures of Eos and Thetis, Memnon’s and Achilles’ respective immortal mothers.

Greek epic constantly presents Eos, the Greek representative of the inherited Indo-European Dawn-goddess, *Ausos, in connection to various mortal heroes with whom she is united. [52] One of these heroes is the Trojan Tithonus, whom she abducts and attempts to make immortal. Since one of the most thorough versions of this myth comes from the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite (5), it is advisable to examine it in detail, more so since the diction employed for Eos’ supplication to Zeus may be relevant to Thetis’ role in Iliad I: Almost all of the thematic features in this epic narrative describing the myth of Dawn and Tithonus (Dawn’s journey to Olympos and subsequent request to Zeus to offer immortality to Tithonus, [53] Zeus’ assent, repulsive old age, Tithonus’ delight while staying with Dawn, Dawn’s appearance early in the morning, her sharing the same abode with Tithonus by the waters of the Ocean at the ends of the earth, her ability to nurture her consort with divine food) have left their traces in the Homeric epics and primarily in the Iliadic tradition, where they have been reshaped and tailored to the epic’s needs. Before turning to the Iliad, I would like to draw attention to Eos’ role in the ‘Aethiopic’ oral tradition, which basically corresponds to the second half of the (reconstructed) plot of the post-Homeric Aethiopis by Arctinus of Miletos. According to the summary offered by Proclus in his Chrestomathy, Eos had asked Zeus to grant to her son Memnon immortality after his death at the hands of Achilles: In the Iliad, the similarities shared by Thetis and Eos are numerous but have been selectively reshaped. The following Iliadic passages display all the aforementioned features pertaining to Eos and Tithonus or Memnon, but applied now to the relation between Thetis and Peleus or Achilles:

(a) Journey to Olympos and subsequent request to Zeus (Iliad I 493–516) to offer Achilles not physical immortality but poetic immortality by making him the hero of the Iliadic tradition (notice the use of the formula κρήηνον ἐέλδωρ // ἐκρήηνεν ἐέλδωρ ‘grant what I ask for’/ ‘fulfilled her wish’ in Iliad I 504 and in the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite [5] 222).

(b) Zeus’ assent: Zeus’ assent is expressed both in Iliad I 524 and I 527 (κατανεύσομαι, κατανεύσω) and in the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite [5] 222 (ἐπένευσε) by compound forms of the verb νεύω ‘to nod in assent’. [54]

(c) Peleus’ repulsive old age: XVIII 434–435.

(d) Tithonus’ delight while staying in Dawn’s abode (Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite [5] 226-227) becomes the gods’ delight in visiting the Aethiopes (implicit in Iliad I 424: κατὰ δαῖτα ‘to feast’), whom Memnon, the son of Dawn, rules (Theogony 984–985). Iris tells the Winds that she cannot feast with them in Thrace because she will go to the Aethiopes [55] by the streams of the Ocean, ‘where they are making grand sacrifice to the immortals’, and that she will there participate in the sacraments (Iliad XXIII 205–207). What is implicit in the Iliad becomes explicit in the Odyssey. In Odyssey i 25–26, it is overtly said that Poseidon had gone to the Aethiopes ‘to accept a sacrifice of bulls and rams, and there he sat and enjoyed the pleasures of the feast’ (ἀντιόων ταύρων τε καὶ ἀρνειῶν ἑκατόμβης. // ἔνθ᾿ ὅ γε τέρπετο δαιτὶ παρήμενος· …).

(e) The divine feast among the Aethiopes pertains to the ‘fulsome banquet of the gods’ (Odyssey viii 76), i.e. to their being ‘expressly entertained as guests at a meal’. [56] Although Dawn’s ability to nurture [57] is a stark feature of the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite (5) 232, it seems more likely that the gods’ feast among the Aethiopes is based on sacrificial practice (forming, at least later on, part of festivals like the Theoxenia and the Theodaisia). [58] In this light, it can be surmised that in another epic tradition the gods might have been entertained by Memnon and the Aethiopes, and that the Homeric tradition (especially the Iliadic one) has ‘erased’ Memnon’s name, since he is incompatible with the Iliad’s plot. Needless to say, the Aethiopes could stay, as it happens in Iliad I 423–425, XXIII 205–207, and Odyssey i 22–27.

(f) Dawn’s appearance early in the morning is transferred to Thetis. In Iliad I 497 and 557, she is described by the epithet ἠερίη ‘early in the morning’ or ‘like a mist’, which corresponds to Eos’ epithet ἠριγένεια ‘early-born’. [59] Interestingly enough, the other two attestations of this epithet are also associated with Dawn’s abode and the Aethiopes. Iliad III 7 (ἠέριαι), referring to the cranes ‘winging their way to the streaming Ocean, bringing to the Pygmaian men bloodshed and destruction’, must be put next to fragment 150.17-18 (M.-W.) of the Hesiodic Catalogue of Women, which associates the Aethiopes to various mythical peoples, such as the Melanes, the Katoudaioi, and the Pygmies. [60] All these peoples are placed in the mythical imagination of the Greeks at the east end of the world, next to the streams of the Ocean. In Odyssey ix 52, the epithet ἠέριοι designates the attack of the Cicones ‘early in the morning’. [61] Slatkin has rightly concluded that “[t]he use of ἠερίη and Thetis’s early morning travels may evoke her ties to Eos erigeneia and the connection of their power with time, the defining factor of human life.” [62]

(g) In the process of reshaping mythical material, the Iliadic tradition has incurred significant changes, one of which concerns Thetis’ prophetic powers. In this respect, Eos and Thetis seem to be strongly opposed. In the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite (5) 223–224, Eos is presented as unable to ‘see’ the future. She is called νηπίη ‘foolish’ (223), since she fails to see that immortality accompanied by old age would be destructive for a mortal. Conversely, in both the Aethiopic and in the Iliadic tradition Thetis is fully aware of Achilles’ destiny, which she reveals to him. [63] Still, Thetis’ prophetic powers undergo a significant ‘internal’ change. Whereas in the oral tradition on which the post-Homeric Aethiopis is based Thetis might have asked Achilles to abstain from battle (since she foresaw his death), [64] in the Iliad it is Achilles who asks her to set in motion a plan that will ultimately lead to his death. These considerations are readily applicable to some incongruities observed in Achilles’ meeting with Thetis in Iliad I 351–427. It has been rightly argued that the first time Achilles speaks to his mother, he refrains from stating his request, [65] and, more significantly, the bard replaces the traditional praying formula ὣς ἔφατ᾿ εὐχόμενος with the formula ὣς φάτο δάκρυ χέων (Iliad I 357). In Muellner’s words, “the deletion of εὐχόμενος may be a covert statement that Achilles is less a man addressing a goddess than a god addressing a goddess, or which is similar, a man addressing his mother who happens to be a goddess.” [66] What we see here at work is the different uses of Thetis’ prophetic powers between the Aethiopic and Iliadic traditions. The ‘ignorance’ of Eos is contrasted to the ‘wisdom’ of Thetis, which in the Iliad undergoes a deeply moving dramatic shift, becoming the very means leading to Achilles’ death.

(h) In the Homeric epics (Iliad I 423–425, XXIII 205–207; Odyssey i 22–27), the Aethiopes are located at the very same place where the goddess Dawn lives with Tithonus in the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite (5), i.e. by the waters of the Ocean at the ends of the earth. Moreover, in Iliad XI 1–2 = Odyssey v 1–2 it is explicitly stated that Dawn rises from the bed she shares with Tithonus in order to bring light to both mortals and immortals. Interestingly enough, these verses (Iliad XI 1–2 = Odyssey v 1–2) are used ‘alternatively’ with Iliad XIX 1–2, where … κροκόπεπλος ἀπ᾿ Ὠκεανοῖο ῥοάων is employed as a ‘variant’ of … ἐκ λεχέων παρ᾿ ἀγαυοῦ Τιθωνοῖο.

(i) In the Iliad, Thetis visits Hephaestus and procures divine armor for Achilles, just as in the tradition reflected in the post-Homeric Aethiopis, Memnon has a Hephaestan-made armor (185–186 Severyns = 57 Kullmann): Μέμνων δὲ ὁ Ἠοῦς υἱὸς ἔχων ἡφαιστότευκτον πανοπλίαν παραγίνεται τοῖς Τρωσὶ βοηθήσων ‘Memnon, the son of Eos arrives, with Hephaestan-made armor, to defend the Trojans.’

Under the scope of the similarities presented above, I maintain that narrative fissures caused by the gods’ journey to the Aethiopes and their hasty return to Olympos, where Thetis’ supplication must take place, have to be set within the larger framework of the Thetis-Eos equation. In fact, we can posit a scene pertaining to the oral tradition that forms the background of the post-Homeric Aethiopis, in which Eos would have asked Zeus to offer immortality to her son Memnon after his death at the hands of Achilles in return for the hospitality, sacrifices, and sumptuous feasts offered to the gods by Memnon when they visited the land of the Aethiopes by the streams of the Ocean. [67] The Homeric tradition has concealed the feast offered by Memnon under the motif of the pious Aethiopes, who are depicted as offering sacrifices to the gods. The delight emphasized when the gods visit the Aethiopes in the Homeric poems mirrors the delight at the hospitality and feast offered by Memnon in a rival oral tradition.

Beneath the Iliadic tradition’s attempt to ‘erase’ through stylistic sophistication the troublesome and rather idiosyncratic double movement of the suppliant (Thetis) and supplicandus (Zeus) in Iliad I 493–499 lies a deeper rupture of the mythical narrative. This rupture is due to the intertextual background of another oral tradition featuring Eos, and not Thetis, as Zeus’ suppliant. This traditional background has acquired an accretive function in the Iliad, hence the duplication of movements toward Olympos and the awkwardness of the gods’ feast in the land of the Aethiopes.

Such cases of oral dittography, where a single feature (Thetis’ movement to Olympos) is doubled, giving the impression of a performative slip by the singer, reflect the reuse of a mythical template belonging to one oral tradition by another rival tradition. Contrary to palaeographical principles, this narrative duplication is not to be remedied. Inscribed on the narrative of the Iliadic oral tradition, it has become indispensable and perfectly functional. The gods’ absence in the land of the Aethiopes is necessary for the description of Odysseus’ return of Chryseis to her father, Chryses, in Iliad I. This is, of course, the well-known analytical-transitional technique described by ‘Zielinski’s Law’, according to which the epic poet describes action A up to a point, then transfers his audience to action B, returning to action A after B comes to a halt. Apart from the temporal exigencies of Iliadic narrative as studied by ‘Zielinski’s Law’, the dictional underscoring of the power of Zeus, who is only mentioned by name and who is leading the gods to Olympos, functions as an introduction to his protagonist role in the ensuing meeting with Thetis. ‘Oral dittography’ is, then, not the equivalent of a textual protrusion, but a conscious by-product of a living oral tradition.

Once the spatio-temporal parameters (place = Οὔλυμπος—time = ἠερίη) have been given and the principal characters (suppliant = Θέτις and supplicandus = Ζεύς) have been introduced, the supplication is ready to begin. [68]

“Thetis crouched in front of Zeus, took his knees with her left hand and reached with her right hand to hold him under the chin. Then she spoke in entreaty to lord Zeus, son of Kronos.” These verses describe the standard gestures [69] of supplication in a rather graphic way. [70] The progressive enjambment introduced by the run-over word σκαιῇ creates a chiasmus through its juxtaposition to δεξιτερῇ (Iliad I 500-501): The harsh-sounding σκαιῇ-δεξιτερῇ cluster (reinforced by the enjambment) contrasts with the euphony of the ἀνθερεῶνος-λισσομένη sequence. This contrast, which is reinforced by the hiatus, alludes to the antithesis between Thetis’ emotional intensity and Zeus’ majestic tranquility. Besides, the words pointing to Zeus (ἀνθερεῶνος and λισσομένη, the latter having Zeus as its notional object) are clearly euphonic, whereas those referring to Thetis (σκαιῇ-δεξιτερῇ), with their strident sequence of consonants making even their pronunciation strenuous, convey her emotional strain. These observations, stemming from the acoustics of the aforementioned expressions, reveal the special emphasis placed on the use of the σκαιῇ-δεξιτερῇ cluster. Surprisingly enough, this word combination does not pertain to either the Iliadic or to the Odyssean vocabulary of supplication. The following list of relevant verses shows that the use of both the left and right hands does not belong to the kinetic typology of supplication:

On the contrary, the σκαιῇ-δεξιτερῇ cluster seems to be constantly employed within the context of an aggressive attack against a rival or opponent: [71]

The above verses, which have been composed in accordance to the ‘law of the expanding members’ (Gesetz der wachsenden Glieder), refer to Ouranus’ castration by Cronus and to the conflict between Hera and Artemis, respectively. Cronus, following the precedent set by Ouranus’ concealment of his own children in a place without light, swallows his children in his νηδύς ‘womb’, which becomes their metaphorical tomb. Before we go on, we should remember that soon after, Zeus will exploit, at full length, what he has learned both from the first and from the second phase of the succession myth. In order to avoid being overthrown by his predecessors, Zeus swallows his first wife Μῆτις (‘Cunning Intelligence’). In this way, he places in his own womb the potential mother of his children, who would have been born from Metis’ womb. This metonymical embedding of the previous phases of the succession myth constitutes Zeus’ ultimate trick. By incorporating the strategies of his predecessors within his own plan and giving birth to a goddess (Athena) from his own head, Zeus is able to put an end to the succession myth, thus becoming the absolute and last ruler of the world. [72]

Through the scope of the continuum of narrative logic connecting the Hesiodic Theogony and Iliad I, it can be argued that the displacement of attack-oriented vocabulary to a supplication scene reflects a process of deroutinization, conjuring up features that stem from the mythical background of the Thetis-Zeus relationship. By alluding to the theogonic castration of Ouranus and to the past threat against Zeus’ dominion by Athena, Hera, and Poseidon (see Achilles’ speech to Thetis in Iliad I 396–406), the boundaries between supplication and cunning aggression are deliberately blurred. The audience is thus presented with a would-be threat to Zeus’ rule, which will be the notional basis for the speech to follow. The listeners are invited to participate in an intertextual game, exploiting their knowledge not only of theogonic material but also of a marginal tradition (reflected later in Pindaric poetry), [73] according to which Zeus had helped Peleus marry Thetis to avert the prophecy that Thetis’ future son by a god would have been able to overthrow him. Notwithstanding the limitations of its plot requirements, the Iliadic tradition lets its audience entertain the idea of a ‘covert threat’ to Zeus by Thetis. In this way, it makes clear to its listeners that this will be a rather oxymoronic supplication, not only because Thetis, being a goddess herself, is by definition an awkward suppliant, but also because of her special power and importance in a potential continuation of the succession myth.

The Iliad’s deliberate overriding of a familiar compartmentalization of dictional material and violation of type-scene based expectations culminates in an intratextual deroutinization of the supplication. Such deviation from traditional patterns functions like an orange light alarming the audience about the eccentricity or peculiarity of a given passage or scene. Disfluencies of this sort, though, are subsequently reinterpreted in the light of supra-segmental mythical variation, turning intratextual fragmentation into intertextual integration, a true hallmark of oral traditional poetry.

Crotty [74] has argued for a typology of supplication comprising a standard procedure: The aforementioned observations fit admirably within the intertextual background of the Thetis-Zeus relationship. Its intratextual deroutinization is hereby based on the use of certain features not pertaining to the typology of supplication but reflecting the very nature of warrior society, which is based on exchange rather than pity. In this way, Thetis’ request mirrors the poetics of the Iliad as a whole and becomes the starting point from which the rest of the epic will evolve. The hybridization of this supplication can be better appreciated if it is compared to Chryses’ supplication to Agamemnon and Menelaus in Iliad I 17–21. The optatives (δοῖεν, λύσαιτε) employed in Chryses’ supplication have been changed into two (κρήηνον, τίμησον) and three (ὑπόσχεο, κατάνευσον, ἀπόειπε) imperatives during Thetis’ first and second appeal.

Both the formula τόδε μοι κρήηνον ἐέλδωρ, [77] which recurs in supplication contexts and the duplication of imperative + dative construction in the ensuing verse (τίμησόν μοι υἱόν) create an indirect reference to the Thetis-Zeus relationship by bridging the initial πάτερ with the word υἱόν. The semantic pair πάτερ-υἱόν has, as I have argued, wider implications; for it alludes to the intertextually attested background of a potential threat to Zeus by Achilles. In this way, the Iliadic tradition attributes to the supplication the connotations stemming from its intertextual substratum. The lack of a possessive pronoun or the adjective φίλος, which is regularly used in Homer as possessive, makes the dative μοι connote the person for whom the supplication is carried out as well as the supplication’s connection to the textual suppliant. This amounts to an implicit indication that we are dealing with an embedded supplication, where the overt suppliant (Thetis) acts in the place and as a representative of the covert one (Achilles).

Conversely, the boundlessness of Thetis’ grief over the shortness of Achilles’ life, highlighted by the relative clause ὃς ὠκυμορώτατος ἄλλων // ἔπλετ᾿, counterbalances the ‘concealed threat’ born by the intertextual innuendo of the Thetis-Zeus relationship. At a critical juncture, where intertextual overtones are thrown into stark relief, the Iliadic tradition reminds its audience that Achilles is “the limiting case of human brevity” [78] and that in this epic the boundaries between divine immortality and human mortality are sharply and tragically drawn. [79]

Metrical factors and word order are then effectively orchestrated to highlight the motifs of τιμή ‘honor’ and γέρας ‘prize’, the former constituting the semantic nucleus of Thetis’ supplication, the latter the terms by which the entreaty will be carried out. In particular, the two internal enjambments of verses 506 and 507, the alliteration of ‘e’, and the aural interplay between τίμησον ‘honor’ and ἠτίμησεν ‘dishonored’ on one hand, and the terminal assonance in the sound ‘ras’ (γέρας and ἀπούρας) assisted by the words’ accentual pattern [80] on the other, accentuate τιμή ‘honor’ and γέρας ‘prize’, respectively. The dictional and stylistic preoccupation with ‘honor’ and ‘prize’ is consonant with epic ideology and abides perfectly by the Iliadic heroic code.

Thetis asks Zeus, the divine ἄναξ, to grant Achilles that which Agamemnon, the human ἄναξ ἀνδρῶν, has deprived him of. The placement of ἄναξ ἀνδρῶν Ἀγαμέμνων and Ὀλύμπιε μητίετα Ζεῦ at the second part of the hexameter, after the trochaic caesura, reminds the audience that the restoration of Achilles’ τιμή ‘honor’ will be effectuated only by discovering the divine-human disparity emblematized in the relationship between Achilles and Thetis.

Although Thetis uses the typical gestures of supplication, she still employs the da quod dedi strategy of reciprocity. Having restored Zeus’ power in the past, she now begs him to restore her son’s lost τιμή ‘honor’ by virtually menacing Agamemnon’s kingship. The deliberate paradox of her supplication is based on the premise of reciprocity only if seen from Achilles’ point of view. On the contrary, from Agamemnon’s point of view it is a threat to his superiority and preeminence among the Achaeans. Thetis absorbs and verbalizes a request in Achillean terms, which makes her request even more eccentric, given that Agamemnon’s power on the human level mirrors Zeus’ preeminence in the divine realm. His initial silence (Iliad I 512: ἀλλ᾿ ἀκέων δὴν ἧστο) [81] must be explained as a hesitation, which has both intertextual associations and intratextual affinities. In fact, the Iliad engages its listeners in an intertextually oriented misdirection [82] that is soon annulled. Intratextually, the hesitation between two courses of action is well interwoven with Thetis’ impending second appeal. Besides, it is inextricably linked to complementary mythical material concerning an archetypal rivalry between Zeus and Achilles, who might have overthrown the father of gods and men if Thetis had been married to an immortal instead of Peleus. [83] From the point made above, it is clear that Thetis’ supplication can be also read as a figurative delimitation of Agamemnon’s power. This twofold enjeu becomes particularly intriguing if we recall that Agamemnon has previously spoken almost like Zeus “and declared his disgust for someone who has tried to speak as equal.” [84] Thetis, and through her the Iliadic tradition, ‘plays’ with the notion of τιμή ‘honor’ in connection to κράτος ‘power, authority’. Since Agamemnon, with his Zeus-like behavior, has dishonored Achilles, Zeus will figuratively dishonor Agamemnon by depriving him, and consequently the Achaeans, from κράτος (Agamemnon’s source of authority and τιμή) and granting it to the Trojans.

It has been argued [85] that there is a link between the Theogony, where the central theme, according to a metonymic reading of its mythical narrative, is Zeus’ μῆνις ‘wrath’ and the Iliad, which begins and is centered around the μῆνις ‘wrath’ of Achilles. Muellner [86] maintains that the Theogony functions as a proem to the Iliad, and so the very first word of the latter conceivably expresses the thematic nucleus of the former. The same author goes as far as to suggest that a variant of the myth about the marriage of Thetis and Peleus, symbolizing the starting point of Greek epic, alludes to an archetypal competition between Achilles and Zeus, which can be traced in a performance sequence between the two poems that summarizes the process of epic poetry’s raison d’ être, its ontogeny. The Iliad transforms divine into heroic μῆνις ‘wrath’, since the μῆνις ‘wrath’ of Apollo [87] causes, albeit indirectly, the μῆνις ‘wrath’ of Achilles. On the other hand, Zeus’ Iliadic μῆνις ‘wrath’ is rather secondary, more so since it is used to support Achilles’ wrath [88] at the end of Iliad I.

In this light, Thetis’ appeal to Zeus acquires a figurative dimension. It reveals the existence of a latent reality, as Achilles’ proximity to the divine results in a pathetic paradox. [89] The immortal mother (Thetis) appeals to the supreme deity (Zeus), begging him to grant her mortal son τιμή ‘honor’, the one thing that will lead to his death. While figuratively asking Zeus to ‘kill’ Achilles in terms of mortality, Thetis asks him to make Achilles the hero of the Iliad, to allow the poem to create its own subject matter.

The archetypal competition between Achilles and Zeus has a cosmic background. Pindar (Isthmian 8.29-38) relates a tradition according to which Thetis was destined to give birth to a child stronger than his father (εἵνεκεν πεπρωμένον ἦν φέρτερον, πατέρος // ἄνακτα γόνον τεκεῖν) if she had been united to Zeus (Ζηνὶ μισγομέναν) or to one of his brothers (Διὸς παρ᾿ ἀδελφεοῖσιν) instead of a mortal. Vernant and Detienne have convincingly argued for the inherent link between the figure of Μῆτις (‘Cunning Intelligence’), who is present in the Theogony but absent in the Iliad, and that of Thetis, being herself a figure of Μῆτις. [90] Furthermore, Briareos, who is summoned by Thetis, has saved Zeus from an internal Olympian threat (Iliad I 396–406) and has also, together with two other Hundred-Handers (Theogony 147–153), ensured Zeus’ κράτος (Theogony 662) by defeating the Titans. Nagy [91] has rightly stressed the link between Thetis and Briareos: they both have cosmic powers and either live in the πόντος (Thetis) or have Πόντος (Briareos) or another sea-god like Nereus (Thetis) as their father. Whereas in the Theogony the threat to Zeus’ supremacy comes from the Titans, it originates, in the tradition alluded to by Iliad I, from Athena, Poseidon, and Hera, who are all pro-Greek within the confines of the Iliadic plot. Interestingly enough, these three gods are all involved directly or indirectly in the ‘Deception of Zeus’ in Iliad XIV (Hera is the main agent, Athena helps her get ‘ready’ to seduce Zeus, and Poseidon frames the entire episode by his overt support to the Achaeans). What we see at work here is the process by which the Iliadic tradition has masked three potential cosmic rivals to Zeus’ celestial supremacy into usurpers of his will within the world of heroes.

The multiple interconnections between Thetis, Briareos, Zeus, and Achilles show that the Iliad makes Zeus do for Achilles, on the human level, what he did not do for him on the divine. Achilles [92] will not become the best of gods, a deity more powerful than Zeus himself, because of the unwillingness on Zeus’ part in the non-Iliadic epic tradition. Conversely, he will become the best of heroes (ἄριστος Ἀχαιῶν) through the will of Zeus in the Iliadic tradition. His potential father will restore his lost τιμή, thus doing, in the span of Achilles’ lifetime, what Achilles could have done in the span of eternity. And yet Zeus’ benefaction, albeit limited, will certainly lead to Achilles’ death. By employing the phrase τίμησόν μοι υἱόν (Iliad I 505), the Iliad exploits the diverse intertextual background of the Zeus-Achilles and Zeus-Thetis relationships. In this way, the potential father (Zeus) will finally honor the son (Achilles) by leading him to his destined end.

In the theogonic tradition the figure of the mother (Gaia) or wife (Rhea) was responsible for initiating the overthrow of Ouranus and Cronus, respectively. [93] Contrarily, in the Iliad it is the figure of the mother and potential wife (Thetis) who will practically “ask” for the death of her son, rather than instigating the overthrow of her would-be husband (Zeus). Thetis’ polytropic nature, [94] a cunning intelligence (μῆτις) endowed with knavery (πανουργία), [95] is implicit in her role in the supplication scene. Given that Thetis’ deceptive force is mythically emblematized by her ultimate metamorphosis into a cuttle-fish (σηπία) in order to escape from the hands of Peleus, the paradox of her appeal to Zeus can be seen as a figurative metamorphosis from request into an intertextually-based threat and an intratextually asserted fame (κλέος) for her son.

Zeus, after thinking for a while in silence, will be faced with a second appeal. Thetis, the Iliadic counterpart of Hesiodic cunning intelligence (μῆτις), has one more cunning turn, one more undulating and twisting trick to put to use.

The rhythmic hesitation inherent in verses 511–513 is reflected in the staccato effect of their condensed sense-units (ὣς φάτο … ἀλλ᾿ ἀκέων δὴν ἧστο … γούνων / … ἐμπεφυυῖα, … αὖτις), preventing the swift flow of speech. This slow, interrupted tone stands in stark contrast to the vehemence of Thetis’ appeal, which is about to start. The speed created by the accumulation of three imperatives (ὑπόσχεο, κατάνευσον, ἀπόειπε) and by the fluent integral enjambments [96] (allowing for only minimal interruption between the end of each verse and the beginning of the next) leads the attention of the audience directly to the next, final verse of Thetis’ second appeal (516), in which the most important element of the speech is presented.

The critical term ἀτιμοτάτη (516) employed at the very end of Thetis’ second appeal, symbolizing her recourse to the rhetoric of honor, will finally break Zeus’ silence once and for all. By translating the intertextual background of an association between Zeus and Thetis into an intratextual sequence of appeals, the Iliad invites its listeners to appreciate the built-in teleology of Thetis’ supplication. Since both reciprocity and honor have, within this framework, an ‘intertextual past’ and an ‘intratextual future’ (both Thetis and Achilles will be honored in the Iliadic tradition), it becomes clear that the Iliad is using Thetis as a poetic foil in order to keep from sidestepping the vexing paradox of her request, but to tailor it to its needs.

Reference or allusion to earlier stages of a rival oral tradition seems to be a constant feature of this supplication scene. This heavily loaded cross-referencing ‘prehistory’ can be described as a form of intertextual skewing. [97] Thetis’ supplication to Zeus is retroactively affected by intertextual cross-references to other supplication scenes involving herself and Zeus or Eos (the hypostasis of the Indo-European Dawn goddess *Ausos) and Zeus. These epic versions are either explicitly (Iliad I 396–406) cited or implicitly [98] alluded to by the Iliadic tradition.

Extending Nagy’s model of diachronic skewing, relevant to relay performance by rhapsodes, [99] to the supplication scene between Thetis and Zeus, we can observe a working analogy. The Iliadic tradition allows Thetis to create an intratextual sequence and continue her supplication by a second appeal exactly at the point where a rival tradition had left off. By employing the argument of loosing her honor (Iliad I 516: ὅσσον ἐγὼ μετὰ πᾶσιν ἀτιμοτάτη θεός εἰμι), Thetis carries on her supplication, which had ceased when she reminded Zeus of the help she had offered him in the past. Here on the level of cross-referencing, we can see what Nagy has observed on the level of rhapsodic performance. It is as if, to use an analogy, the Iliadic tradition has turned Thetis into an internal rhapsode, who takes the floor at the very point an earlier tradition has left off, only to make the epic of the Iliad begin. [100] The analogy is, I maintain, especially apt; for it comes at exactly the point at which the plot is ready to commence, when Thetis asks Zeus to ‘make the Iliad possible’. In this light, and pressing this analogy a bit more, Zeus becomes the narrative mirroring of the epic Muse, who is generically asked from the singer to endorse his request for a performance and subsequently ‘allow the song to begin.’ By mimicking bardic performance strategies, according to which the singer ‘acknowledges’ his inability to recall the deeds of the epic heroes without the help of the Muse or Muses (Iliad I 1; II 484–486; Odyssey i 1; i 10), [101] Thetis ‘internalizes’ her request and refers to her future loss of honor and recognition, should Zeus ignore her appeals. Under this scope, Thetis’ supplication, starkly emphasized by its placement at the poem’s beginning, becomes a stylized representation and conscious self-reflection of the aesthetics of epic performance.