Chapter 5. “Back Again,” “(Right) There/Then,” “(Right) Here/Now,” and “In Vain”: The Uses of αὖτις, αὐτίκα, αὐτοῦ, and αὔτως

Table 3. Instances of αὖ, αὖτε, and αὐτάρ.

My analysis of the remaining αὐ-adverbs is intended to detect presentational and interactional functions in addition to representational ones, and to determine their content and interrelationships. As I discussed in chapter 4, distinguishing between what contributes to the propositional content and what is, instead, a meta-comment on the propositional content is not always easy, especially if the adverbs occur in independent clauses and if their sentence position is hybrid (that is, it can be accounted for both as broadly initial and as occupying a mid-sentence position). However, what I am proposing refutes predetermined and absolute meanings (for example, αὖτις always equals either “back” or “again”) and, crucially, orients the interpretation of words to their discourse relevance. From this perspective, the attention directed to surrounding particles aims to capture the overall pragmatic effect of the phrase, rather than single words. In this chapter, I will argue that the representational (or propositional) values characterize most of uses of αὐτοῦ (plus αὖθι and αὐτόθι) and αὔτως; this argues for a strong link with αὐτός. Nevertheless, the relatively wide range of uses of these adverbs attests to pragmatic and cognitive implications shared by both representational and presentational/interactional instances—such as, for example, the visual impact of their utterance. Finally, as with αὖ, αὖτε, and αὐτάρ, my analysis also encompasses instances from lyric poetry, which helps to shape an overall picture of the communicative significances.

As I mentioned in chapter 4, Monro (1891:308) defines the original value of αὖ as “backwards”; notwithstanding this definition, he also says, “in Homer this sense is only found in the form αὖτις.” As a starting point for the investigation of the {263|264} many nuances of αὖτις in Homer (the Ionic form for αὖθις [1] ), I submit that the idea of going back, together with that of parallel repetition, underlies most uses of αὖτις. This predominant sense might register the cognitive activity of the mind’s eye of performers and of recipients, as well as discourse memory. Let us begin with some clearly representational uses—that is, when αὖτις works as an adverb that modifies the propositional content of what is said (as it is commonly interpreted for all of its occurrences). The first passage is from Iliad 10; Dolon has just been killed, and Odysseus makes a sēma so that they do not miss the spoils when they come back:

An analogous representational case of αὖτις contributing to the propositional content concerns a temporal relation (“again”): The idea of temporal return and of witnessing the appearance of something already known from the past is clear. [3] The semantic—and lexical—link to the activation of memory, which sometimes occurs together with αὖτις, [4] confirms that resuming thoughts and procedures is central to the cognitive process triggered by the adverb.

This leads me to spotlight a third general use of αὖτις that is commonly acknowledged in addition to spatial “back” and temporal “again”; in LSJ, it is labeled as “of sequence.” I claim that several instances of αὖτις dealing with sequences actually work as discourse markers. Instead of expressing a backward movement that pertains to the narrated events, they mark a presentational act—that is, they cue the receiver on how to process the next discourse unit. The metaphoric backward movement concerns discourse memory: the producer recalls an analogous (or even “the same”) narrative feature and marks the upcoming act as parallel. What I would like to stress here is that the visual component is also crucial at the presentational level.

Let us first consider αὖτις working as a presentational discourse marker in a way that resembles many occurrences of αὖ and of αὖτε (analyzed in chapter 4). The topics of the Muses’ song that are summarized in the second proem of the Theogony [5] are three: gods, Zeus, and human beings (with whom the Giants are associated). αὖτε (47) is the presentational mark that helps the receiver process the upcoming entry—Zeus, that is—which is hierarchically parallel to the previous one (cf. 44, θεῶν γένος … πρῶτον). Then, αὖτις presents “human beings and the Giants” as the next parallel entry: {265|266} In this case, αὖτις occupies the initial sentence position; in genealogies, αὖτις has, I argue, the same presentational function. [6]

Another relevant presentational function shared by αὖ/αὖτε and αὖτις concerns speech-introductory formulas, as in the following example: Here, αὖτις drives the receivers to visually shift “back” or “again” from the previous speakers to Telemachus. This instance of visual shift is particularly interesting because Telemachus has not actually spoken immediately before (the speaking characters from the beginning of book xviii are only Irus, Odysseus, and Antinous up to this point). αὖτις, then, really expresses a cognitive anaphora—that is, the character is present to the discourse memory of the primary speaking ‘I’ and to the mind’s eye of the audience, even though there is no verbal antecedent; switching to him as the next speaker implies the {266|267} retrieval of his mental representation (not differently from what happens with αὐτός). Moreover, from the visual point of view, αὖτις also enhances a zooming-in effect, especially as the interlocutors are a plurality (τοῖς, 60). [7]

Thus far in our analysis, presentational αὖτις is forward-oriented, as it enhances the shift to a new parallel entry or to someone who is “on the other side.” It also retains a sense of repetition, in that it recalls a feature or a character that is “the same as before [in discourse].” [8]

What is the discourse function of αὖτις when it occurs following a speech and discourse has moved on (“So X spoke. Then …”)? We have seen in chapter 4 that the phrase τὸν δ’ αὖ/αὖτε and the like, for example, very often cause a visual shift to what happens “on the other side” of the visual field. Does αὖτις have a similar effect? Does αὖτις have a propositional meaning instead (unlike αὐτάρ, αὖ, and αὖτε)? The answer is: yes, sometimes it has the same effect, and yes, sometimes it has a propositional meaning; but it also does something different. The discriminating factors are, I submit, the particle(s) and the adverb(s) that co-occur. Generally speaking, the range of functions of αὖτις and the hybrid status of this word in several phrases is not surprising: Homeric diction includes variation and multiformity [9] also at this level; the balance between presentational and representational uses, the attraction between certain adverbs and certain particles reinforcing possibly different meanings is part of the flexibility of such a language. The “diachronic depth,” to use Bakker’s terms, of Homeric poetry also plays a significant role, of course. However, it is difficult to deduce from the archaic texts any element concerning the semantic evolution of words such as αὖτις from its origins. [10] Let us now return to αὖτις occurring after “So X spoke” {267|268} clauses. As I already pointed out in chapter 4, the employment of αὐ-discourse markers is very high in such contexts. [11] I remark that while αὖ/αὖτε match only δέ (δ’ αὖ, δ’ αὖτε), αὖτις matches also μέν. The following example shows ὃ μὲν αὖτις as a phrase paralleling τὸν δ’αὖ(τε) and the like. Menelaus has just urged Antilochus to advance and kill some Trojans: After a discourse act that marks the end of direct speech (ὣς εἰπὼν), the narration moves on by following two visual threads: the former concerns what Menelaus does—ὃ μὲν αὖτις ἀπέσσυτο, τὸν δ’ ὀρόθυνεν—while the latter concerns what Antilochus does—ἐκ δ’ ἔθορε προμάχων. In this way, the receiver is directed to focus separately on the two subjects. There is, consequently, no need to translate “[Menelaus] hastened back,” as αὖτις is simply a discourse marker by means of which the narration is caught up and follows a first thread of the story. μέν signals that a second thread of the story will follow (δ’, 573; Antilochus is, in fact, the main actor until 590). Therefore, αὖτις may have a presentational, rather than a propositional, meaning. [12] Analogously, when in Iliad 20 the primary speaking ‘I’ finishes reporting Apollo’s words addressed to Hector (376–378), he switches to Hector as the next visual and thematic target (ὣς ἔφαθ’, Ἕκτωρ δ’ αὖτις …, 379), and then he switches again to Achilles (ἐν δ’ Ἀχιλεύς, 381). [13]

Even beyond marking either upcoming or just ended direct speeches, αὖτις can be used to signal narrative boundaries, in particular to introduce new sections of the story. In this sense, αὖτις can be said to identify a new thread of the story that is going to be followed; again, the thread is thematic and visual at once: Analogously to αὐτάρ at 138, αὖτις—or, better, the phrase δ’ αἶψ’ αὖτις (142)—marks the next step of the narration. [14] There is continuity at the level of the subject, but discontinuity in the setting: the teller switches from Hermes-by-the-river to Hermes-on-the-mountain. [15]

One more instance of an αὖτις that works not at the propositional level but at a level that is partially presentational and partially interactional can be added. In some cases, αὖτις seems to zoom in on a specific moment of the story or a specific action (even though it might not imply any visual shift), and it cues that the upcoming event will be crucial or exciting. In translation, this use of αὖτις might correspond to “immediately” or “on the spot”; I would even suggest an expression such as “here is what happened.” As I will show, αὐτίκα is typically employed to convey this function. {270|271} In this instance, what happens is a major event: Odysseus’ revelation to the two loyal servants. Note, too, that ἐξαῦτις introducing the main clause comes after an αὐτὰρ ἐπεί-clause. [16] In other passages αὖτις or ἐξαῦτις [17] mark less important moments, but still some excitement may be inferred. [18] More precisely, those are instants in which the character in question is going to give a specific turn to his/her actions or to his/her behavior, with exciting consequences to the story. A hint of emotional discontinuity is added to the presentational value. [19]

Some uses of αὖτις refer to a parallel development of an action—Führer speaks of Komplementärhandlung—that includes some adverse or unexpected {271|272} outcome. [20] I associate these cases with the “here is what happened” cases, as the inferential process triggered by αὖτις is similar. However, αὖτις in these uses may work at the presentational/interactional, or at the representational (propositional) level, or both. For example, the famous Iliadic simile comparing Apollo’s destruction of the Achaean wall to a child undoing what he has just made with sand runs as follows: ὡς ὅτε τις ψάμαθον πάϊς ἄγχι θαλάσσης, / ὅς τ’ ἐπεὶ οὖν ποιήσῃ ἀθύρματα νηπιέῃσιν / ἂψ αὖτις συνέχευε ποσὶν καὶ χερσὶν ἀθύρων “As when a boy with the sand by the sea shore who after childishly making playthings all of a sudden mixes them up with feet and hands for fun” (Iliad 15.362–364). Here, there is an interesting mix: on the one hand, ἂψ αὖτις seems to convey the representational “backward” effect of returning to the sand as it was, before the constructions (Komplementärhandlung); on the other hand, it expresses the “all of a sudden” presentational and interactional comment that introduces the next event as unexpected. Another fascinating “hybrid” instance is Iliad 14.438–439. Hector has been seriously injured by Ajax (14.409–420); some Trojans move him to the ground (435); he revives for a while (436–437) but then he falls to the ground again, in a faint: αὖτις δ’ ἐξοπίσω πλῆτο χθονί, τὼ δέ οἱ ὄσσε / νὺξ ἐκάλυψε μέλαινα “again, he lay back upon the earth. And the dark night covered his eyes” (Iliad 14.438–439). Certainly, αὖτις contributes to the propositional content, since it refers to the action (Hector fell down “once again”); however, it also marks emotional discontinuity—that is, it works as a discourse marker signaling excitement about a reversal of events (“here is what happened”). Odyssey 14.404–405 offers a final example. Eumaeus first shares his thoughts with the beggar about a positive event (taking him to the tent and giving him hospitality gifts) and, immediately after, about a parallel, hypothetical, but also unexpectedly dramatic, event (killing him): ὅς σ’ ἐπεὶ ἐς κλισίην ἄγαγον καὶ ξείνια δῶκα, / αὖτις δὲ κτείναιμι φίλον τ’ ἀπὸ θυμὸν ἑλοίμην “[if I] after taking you to the tent and after giving you hospitality gifts, here is what happens: I kill you and take away your spirit of life.” αὖτις marks a parallel but reversed outcome, as well as the crucial moment of the telling (“here is what happens,” presentational).

To conclude this section, I mention some lyric occurrences that also show a hybrid status of αὖτις. This time, the overlap concerns the recurrence of an event that is both what the poet says about what the singing “I” has to do and what the “I” actually does “on the spot,” while saying so. At Pythian 9 (103–105) Pindar says ἐμὲ δ’ οὖν τις ἀοιδᾶν / δίψαν ἀκειόμενον πράσσει χρέος, αὖτις {272|273} ἐγεῖραι / καὶ παλαιὰν δόξαν ἑῶν προγόνων “As I am setting right my thirst of songs, someone imposes that I awaken also the ancient fame of his ancestors.” Awakening the glory of the ancestors coincides with singing and playing. [21] The anchorage to the hic et nunc of the performance is given not only by the “I” mark (ἐμέ, 103), but also by αὖτις itself, which marks the reenactment of a glorious past—as active recognition of a ritual repetition—which really is going to follow in the next lines of the song (starting from 106). Analogously, at Isthmian 1.39, νῦν δ’αὖτις verbalizes the re-awakening of the glory of Asopodorus, the victor’s father, through the ongoing song of praise. The similarity with lyric δηὖτε, which was analyzed in chapter 4, is striking. [22]

αὐτίκα is commonly regarded as an adverb of time—ending in -κα like τηνίκα, ἡνίκα, πόκα, and ὅκα—to be derived from αὐτός. Sameness and selfness are, indeed, the base of several of its meanings: “at that very moment,” “at once,” “in the same moment (as the one in which I am speaking)”—that is, “now” or “immediately.” Further derived meanings recorded by dictionaries are “for the moment,” “presently” (“in a slightly future sense”), and post-Homeric “for example” (LSJ), “straightway” (Autenrieth), and “suddenly” (Slater). Indications of temporal locations seem to derive from indications of spatial locations. [23] Ηowever, αὐτίκα encompasses different meanings that go beyond location in time; “suddenly,” for example, relates to the expectations (temporal or not) of the speaker; “straightway” relates to the way in which something happens without delay. The substantial difference between αὐτίκα and adverbs such as νῦν and τότε is that αὐτίκα, at least in Homer, does not locate an event in a proximal or distal time but expresses the speaker’s identification (if not recognition) of a specific moment in which the event has happened/happens/is going to happen (or to have happened). Both the specific moment and the speaker’s identification with it have a narrative relevance. The sense “in the same moment as …” is just one possibility. As I will show, the same holds for αὐτοῦ as for δεῦρο and ἔνθα. It is as if some moments are to be singled out, as if a temporal zooming in is needed in order to spotlight the relevant narrative effect, which can concern {273|274} either the story or the presentation of the story; accordingly, αὐτίκα may work as either a representational or a presentational mark (as does αὖτις).

An initial representational (or propositional) use will permit me to introduce a major feature characterizing Homeric αὐτίκα. Sometimes αὐτίκα occurs in direct speeches and is the equivalent of “now”: the specific moment being identified coincides with the hic et nunc of the utterance; [24] the one who identifies it is the speaking “I” whose verbal trace is clear. An example is the following: The speaking “I”—that is, Polydamas (see the “I” marks ἔγωγ’ ἐθέλοιμι, 69)—identifies the specific moment at which he would like the Trojans to be destroyed, which coincides with the “now” of the mythical past, as it is revived through direct speech. [25] I argue that several instances of αὐτίκα that are uttered by the primary speaking ‘I’—who is almost never explicitly marked by an “I” mark throughout the two poems—share the same fundamental pragmatic property: they refer to the “now” of the mythical past that is being reenacted. The performing “I”—or reenacting “I,” to use Nagy’s terms [26] —shows the identification of a specific moment at which something happens to be in in full accord with what the character recognizes and identifies; there is no break. The performer makes the identified moments coincide: “at that very moment” and “in this very moment” overlap. This is further evidence of the Homeric enargeia {274|275} of which Bakker writes; αὐτίκα is another means of “pretended immediacy.” [27] Let us consider the following passage, which tells about Meriones and other Achaeans cutting wood for Patroclus’ cremation: The identification of the moment at which the men start cutting oak trees is simultaneously the “then” of the mythical past and the “now” of the reenactment; we could paraphrase the passage by saying, “And then there is the moment in which they reach mount Ida; now—here they are—they cut oak trees, and the trees fall down.” [28] Discourse markers δή (117) and ἄρα (118) contribute to the vividness of the visualization. [29] Does αὐτίκα in this case work as a discourse marker or not? Certainly, translations such as “immediately” are not out of place. However, “immediately,” especially in mid-sentence position, modifies the content by qualifying the narrated event as happening without any intervening time or space, whereas what I am proposing is an interpretive shift from how events are supposed to have happened to the narrative presentation of events. [30] {275|276} In the cited passage, for example, I highlight a presentational value of αὐτίκα not only because of its syntactically optional status, but also—and mainly—because it bears comparison to a number of similar instances, which I will now introduce.

My argument is that all the presentational uses of αὐτίκα in early epic poetry arise from the identification of a specific moment in which something happens; it is the subjective “now” of the identification that matters, rather than the objective state of a present event. The following speech of Thetis shows that αὐτίκα can refer neither to a deictic “now” nor to a propositional “immediately”: As much as Thetis here actively identifies what is going to happen, so the primary speaking ‘I’ elsewhere uses αὐτίκα as a organizational means to zoom in on specific moments of the story; he identifies something relevant that is going to happen in the story and singles it out. From the presentational perspective, αὐτίκα does not affect the quick accomplishment of the narrated states of affairs, but it does mark the excitement of some moments. In my view, two main types of excitement are signaled by αὐτίκα: what I call the propulsion of action, and what I call the magic of some instances. An exemplary case of the former is the beginning of book five of the Odyssey, when Zeus sends Hermes to Calypso: The occurrence of ἔπειτα after αὐτίκα evokes αὐτὰρ ἔπειτα; however, only in a few instances does αὐτίκ’ ἔπειτα actually share the presentational function of αὐτὰρ {276|277} ἔπειτα—that is, to shift to a new setting. [31] Rather, αὐτίκ’ ἔπειτα tends to push the narration forward and to introduce excitedly a particular future action or the initiative being taken, as does αὐτίκα followed by δέ in numerous passages. [32] Strikingly, Erren (1970), who provides an inventory of the narrative points introduced by αὐτίκα, proposes an interpretive shift from the (propositional) temporal meaning to a narrative meaning—to its use, that is, in introducing what has been decided, which often deals with “attacking” or “engaging.” [33] In LfgrE, Führer cites H. F. Fränkel’s remark that αὐτίκα works more as a connective than as a temporal mark and underscores the narrator’s preoccupation with a successive chain of events. [34] αὐτίκα often sharing with αὐτάρ the function of indenting or sharing with αὖτε the function of shifting to the next interlocutor, [35] {277|278} becomes tinged with a nuance of excitement toward the upcoming event, along with a zooming-in effect: [36]

Apollo’s taking of the initiative to declare his own essential qualities, even when he was a little child, is a remarkable turn of the story. This kind of excitement is presentational and interactional at once.

The other kind of excitement grows out of very special moments of the story—and of the narration as well—in which what happens is less or more magical. Here, I cite two instances. First, the tragic instant in which Circe turns Odysseus’ companions into pigs: Second, the description of Dionysus’ portents in Homeric Hymn VII : The marvels (θαυματὰ ἔργα, 34) that the sailors witness include the growth of the vines over the sails; αὐτίκα is the discourse marker that grammaticalizes the excitement/amazement of that special instant. [37] I read the αὐτίκα δ’ ἔγνω-phrases {279|280} as working in the same way; [38] moreover, they confirm the appropriateness of αὐ-terms—including αὐτός—in contexts of recognition of something previously unrecognized. As a group, these passages show some notable features of αὐτίκα: the visual component of the narrative discontinuity, [39] the temporal zooming-in effect, and the cognitive involvement at the level of emotional discontinuity. [40]

To conclude this section I would point out that the lyric occurrences of αὐτίκα reflect a basic characteristic: the co-presence of presentational/interactional values, representational meanings, and hybrid cases, as we also saw for αὖτις. Pindar seems to retrieve Homeric presentational αὐτίκα in a speech introductory formula, which also excitedly marks the initiative to be narrated (Pythian 9.29), as it focuses on a specific moment of the story (Pythian 4.241, sentence initial αὐτίκα δ’), and after a “So (s)he spoke”-clause (Isthmian 6.55). Sappho uses αὐτίκα to zoom in on the Trojan women approaching the nuptial chariot with mules (fr. 44.13). Some instances of presentational and interactional αὐτίκα mark the excitement of very special moments: in Mimnermus (fr. 2.10), one line after an αὐτὰρ ἐπήν-clause, it introduces the magic moment of death (when one’s telos has been reached); in Mimnermus fr. 5.1 (= Theognis 1.1016), sentence initial αὐτίκα μοι introduces the highly emotional moment in which the speaking ‘I’ is said to sweat all over his skin when he sees “the flower of youth”; analogously, in Sappho (fr. 31.10) it starts the description of the bodily reaction to the sight of the beloved, after the famous utterance “the tongue splintered.” In all of these cases, it is as if αὐτίκα is the verbalization of a hit of a magic {280|281} wand, not differently from the many Iliadic and Odyssean passages analyzed above. A few passages show a fully representational αὐτίκα—occurring in mid-sentence position—whose meaning is “shortly,” or “on the spot” (Mimnermus fr. 5.6; Solon fr. 13.29; Pindar Olympian 2.57). Finally, in some “hybrid” instances, the adverb appears to contribute to the propositional content and it mostly occurs in mid-sentence position; still, the events that are said to happen αὐτίκα represent special instants: at Pindar Olympian 4.5, it refers to the magic moment of the announcement of victory—ἀγγελία; at Olympian 6.44, it refers to Iamus’ birth; at Olympian 13.66, it refers to the magic turn from dream to reality; at Hipponax fr. 84.19, it is connected to sexual climax.

Much of what I have argued about the Homeric uses of αὐτίκα also holds for the adverb αὐτοῦ. A difference is that the either real or metaphorical sphere of reference is spatial rather than temporal. Another difference is that αὐτοῦ does not seem to introduce new or sub-sections of narration, and it does not occur in speech introductory formulas.

Let us begin with the seemingly opposite pair “here”–“there,” in its representational meanings. A first passage concerns “here” in direct speech: [41] The deep sense of αὐτοῦ in this passage goes beyond indexicality; Achilles stresses the sameness of himself and Patroclus, which will include the place of death. Selfness is, also, poignantly relevant here: Achilles identifies and recognizes in the hic et nunc of the utterance that “here, in Troy” is also “right here”—that is, “the very place” where he will die. [42] {281|282} If we were to imagine Odysseus’ live, speaking voice, he would say, “you remain here by the ship and guard it.” “Here” in direct speech must, in principle, turn into “there” in indirect speech. However, the idea of (pretended) immediacy causes αὐτοῦ to function as a mark of (pretended) nearness. Of course, whenever the speaker using the adverb αὐτοῦ is Odysseus, the coincidence between “there” and “here” is highly reasonable: he is re-enacting the past events and re-experiencing them in the first person. [43] I submit that this principle does not change when the speaker using αὐτοῦ is not an internal character but is the primary speaking ‘I’. I have already cited an instance where αὐτίκα has the same effect. [44] Let us now cite a passage with αὐτοῦ: The primary speaking ‘I’ sets the front of the palace gates near to himself and to the listeners at once; it is “there,” yet within the pretended immediacy, the place where Eurymachus and the others holds their brief assembly (345–357) is “here.”

The same alternative between a reference to a place that is explicitly near to the speaking “I” and a third-person displacement to “there” (which becomes near through the immediacy effect) is equally detectable in many occurrences of αὖθι and αὐτόθι. [45] Morphologically, αὖθι is accounted to derive from αὐτόθι {282|283} through haplology; thus, it is a cognate of αὐτός. [46] The basic meaning of αὐτοῦ, αὖθι, and αὐτόθι relates to the anaphoric concept “the same place where one already is.” Very often such a meaning is semantically reinforced, in Homer, by verbs of “remaining” and “being left.” [47] While underscoring this fact about αὖθι, Nordheider (LfgrE I:1545) draws a connection between its non-deictic value and the recognition of the identity of the place at issue. The author also suggests that αὖθι might mark a contrast to other possible places, which—in my view—perfectly harmonizes with the use of αὐτός to foreground the center, while hinting at the existence of a periphery: “remaining here, in the same place” implies not going elsewhere, and it may even imply not moving at all.

In addition to these propositional uses, I have detected several instances that show the discourse relevance (and thus, the presentational and interactional uses) of αὐτοῦ, αὖθι, and αὐτόθι. This relevance springs from the identification of a place that is not so much where a certain event takes place, but rather an abstract place in the discourse memory. In a previous section, I argued that the same shift is at stake at the temporal level for αὐτίκα, when it sometimes means “at that time” and sometimes “here is what happened.” I would like to reinforce this point by analyzing another adverb of place that in Homeric poetry quite often works as a discourse marker: sentence initial ἔνθα. [48] Zeus has just been persuaded by Hera to let Sarpedon die at the hands of Patroclus. The scene then moves to the battlefield: Ἔνθα simply helps to process the upcoming discourse section, as the “place” of discourse memory becomes the “slot” to be devoted to the details of that particular fight (which involves Sarpedon’s death; see 462–507). Analogously, αὐτοῦ seems to mark a special or magic moment of the story. αὖθι and αὐτόθι do the same by specifically marking the instant of death of heroes. A first representative case is the description of the suitors’ reaction to the sight of shining Penelope descending to the hall: I have chosen this instance because the motif of the knees giving way often includes αὐτοῦ, which relates to the recognition of Odysseus’ true identity on three occasions. [49] A second passage is an equally formulaic expression used to narrate the instant of someone’s death. The narration of the instant of death often includes either αὖθι or αὐτόθι, in which the propositional reference to the exact place and the presentational/interactional reference to what happened at that moment finely overlap. [50] The {284|285} interactional component is given by the emotional discontinuity and emotional nearness (emotional immediacy?) conveyed through the choice of αὖθι, as in some instances of αὖ and αὖτε that I pointed out in chapter 4 (e.g. νῦν αὖ θάνατος καὶ μοῖρα κιχάνει, Iliad 17.478 = 672 = 22.436).

All the various meanings of αὔτως have led some prior scholars to conclude that there were originally two different roots from which the word came, whence two distinct homonymous words. [51] However, the majority of scholarship now tends to think of αὐτός as the word from which all the meanings of αὔτως come, a finding that my pragmatic analysis also supports. [52]

I will first outline the main significances that derive from αὐτός in its propositional value. [53] As Führer indirectly suggests, there is a continuum between the “inclusive” and the “exclusive” meanings of αὔτως. [54] In chapter 3, I have mentioned König’s distinction between inclusive and exclusive adverbial uses of intensifiers (e.g. “I’ve lost twice my wallet myself,” inclusive, vs. “I’ve cleaned the room myself [i.e. nobody helped me],” exclusive). In line with this distinction, the meanings of αὔτως underscoring sameness with respect to previously mentioned conditions are to be considered as inclusive, whereas those highlighting aloneness and “without-anything-else” are to be considered as exclusive. Exclusivity harmonizes with selfness, in fact: think, for example, of the uses of English “just” embracing “exactly,” “simply,” and “no more than.” The following passage shows an instance of αὔτως that resumes, at once, several {285|286} values of αὐτός discussed in chapter 3—namely, nakedness, being a corpse, being isolated/alone, being the very one, being unaltered (the same as before): However, a remarkable feature of the Homeric use of αὔτως leads me to a pragmatic distinction. Of fifty-nine occurrences of αὔτως in the Homeric poems and in the Homeric Hymns, characters use the word in forty of them (67.79%), whereas the primary speaking ‘I’ uses the word in nineteen instances. In twelve cases, the latter are invariably constituted with the phrase ὣς δ’αὔτως starting the line, which works as a discourse marker, as I will show. Finally, in three of the seven remaining cases the primary speaking ‘I’ reports the internal thoughts of characters. This finding is extremely important, as it shows that in the majority of cases αὔτως may reflect something about the speaking manner of characters; or, in other words, it may signal a speaker’s attitude or even mood—which in general is not the case for the style of the primary speaking ‘I’. Indeed, the primary speaking ‘I’ uses mainly ὣς δ’αὔτως, a presentational mark of the next unit as a parallel or analogous one. [56] What are the contexts in which characters (either mortals or gods) use αὔτως? They are mostly of anything but rationality and calm; they express outrage or indignation or contempt for someone or other quite negative judgments. [57] Because these contexts are so emotionally charged, certain semantic and lexical domains are recurrent beside αὔτως, such as negations, privative a-, the adverb μάψ, ἐπεύχομαι as “boasting,” and νήπιος. [58] The latter case will be analyzed shortly. As an instance of outrage, I cite one of Odysseus’ furious comments about the suitors: {286|287} The presence of the adverb μάψ recalls ἄψ beside αὖτις—that is, a further adverb that reinforces the “with-no-point” meaning of the αὐ-adverb. Odysseus’ indignation ultimately rests on his personal recognition and evaluation of the situation he is facing. Sometimes, αὔτως seems to convey the same “with-no-point” meaning as a subjective judgment about the identification of what is truthful (as αὐτός conveys the recognition of the true core of someone or of something). [59] Quite often, such recognition manifestly implies a visual check. [60] In the following passage, again from Odyssey 16, Telemachus suggests to his father that testing the loyalty of the servants, as Odysseus had proposed (305–306) would take a long time, while the suitors would go on squandering the estate. Telemachus’ use of αὔτως summarizes both the uselessness of the test and the reliability of the knowledge Odysseus would gain by doing so; his father would really know who had remained loyal to him and who had not, but this would take too much time. The component of subjective judgment in the use of αὔτως clearly appears in combination with νήπιος, which refers almost exclusively to Astyanax, [61] as in the following example: Andromache’s acknowledgment of her son as νήπιος includes the tragic envisioning of the irreversible social disconnection that will follow upon Astyanax’s coming orphanhood. [62] When νήπιος and αὔτως co-occur with reference to adults, the speaker conveys the recognition of a blind consciousness guiding the behavior of those adults: in S. T. Edmunds’ terms, a mental and/or a social disconnection that brings about mistakes and even death is acknowledged and explicitly addressed. [63] It is especially relevant to the purposes of this chapter to recall that the primary speaking ‘I’ of the Iliad uses νήπιον αὔτως to point to little Astyanax, when the farewell between Hector and Andromache is about to be described: {288|289} Certainly the motif of Andromache’s and Hector’s son as νήπιος αὔτως relates to the Iliadic context of the tragic and irreversible separation of husband, wife, and son (in the farewell of book six and in the two laments by Andromache in books twenty-two and twenty-four). However, since it is extremely rare for the primary speaking ‘I’ to use αὔτως apart from sentence intial ὣς δ’αὔτως, I suggest that what happens at Iliad 6.400 is the adoption of Andromache’s point of view. The performer speaks νήπιον αὔτως as if it were coming from Andromache’s mouth. This harmonizes with my reading of αὐτῇ at Iliad 6.399 [64] : the passage reveals the primary speaking ‘I’’s access to the internal states of his characters; it conveys an empathic, emotional nearness.

Presentational ὣς δ’αὔτως, which I have already mentioned, [65] is my final use of αὔτως. The phrase signals that the upcoming discourse unit is going to describe an action that parallels the one that has just been told; the shift concerns either a different side of the visual field (“on the other side,” as with αὐτάρ), or an analogy between completely different scenes. I argue that these cases are the only ones in which αὔτως works as a discourse marker. Let us consider the following example: The analogous description of what happens “on the other side” (ἑτέρωθεν reinforces the concept and the kind of visual shift) is particularly striking, as lines 431–432 mirror 428–429. There is a correspondence between the doubling of the action (the Trojans burning Trojan corpses—the Achaeans burning Achaean corpses) and the parallel repetition in performance.

My analysis of αὖτις, αὐτίκα, αὐτοῦ (+ αὖθι, αὐτόθι), and αὔτως leads to some general considerations. The purpose of this chapter has been to explore the various meanings of αὐ-adverbs in addition to αὖ, αὖτε, and αὐτάρ; and, if there are features linking their uses, to further explore at which level they are comparable. A starting criterion in identifying the different uses was to hold open the possibility of finding propositional (representational) as well as presentational/interactional uses. My analysis found that the more αὐ-adverbs are associated with αὐτός the more the uses tend to be mainly propositional. However, in all instances, discourse marker functions have been detected, as well. In comparison with αὖ, αὖτε, and αὐτάρ, whose discourse marker functions cover the vast majority of instances, αὖτις, αὐτίκα, αὐτοῦ (+ αὖθι, αὐτόθι), and αὔτως show numerous mixed—I call them “hybrid’”—instances; namely, cases in which presentational/interactional and representational aspects seem to go together. As I mentioned at the beginning of this chapter, I do not want to go so far as to suggest a diachronically evolving line governing the semantic development of these adverbs—for example, from propositional adverbs to discourse markers. While such an account is commonly considered to be the most probable, as far as the history of European languages is concerned, [66] the results of my investigation do not support this, as they reveal a number of discourse functions covered by αὖ, αὖτε ,and αὐτάρ, which are, moreover, considered as very ancient words (they are used much less frequently after Homer, or they even disappear, and they occur predominantly in formulaic expressions). Therefore, I simply {290|291} conclude that an unstable, mixed, or layered range of uses is especially characteristic of αὖτις, αὐτίκα, αὐτοῦ (+ αὖθι, αὐτόθι) ,and αὔτως. Α telling example is that δεύτερον αὖ works as a sentence initial discourse marker (“then, a further entry is …”) and, conversely, that δεύτερον αὖτις works as a propositional adverb when it occurs in final sentence position (“for the second time”). And, again without taking positions, I also record that the Odyssey overall shows more instances of αὐ-adverbs used in crystallized formulas than does the Iliad.

Another major finding of this chapter goes beyond the representational/presentational distinction and harmonizes with the argument of chapter 3, which rests on the following overarching idea: for any word or phrase, it is possible to observe the pragmatics of it use alongside its syntactic and even its semantic characteristics. Thus, αὐτός is not only a third-person pronoun, and it not only indicates corpses and live bodies in the Iliad, but it also triggers pragmatic and cognitive inputs, such as thinking the referent of αὐτός to be the visual center surrounded by a periphery. In the same line of argument, some uses of αὐτίκα and αὔτως, for example, while contributing to the propositional content of the sentence that includes them, also imply pragmatic and cognitive effects. αὐτίκα in contexts such as “and he started breathing again [after being seriously injured]” does imply the excitement of acknowledging a sudden marvel; αὔτως in contexts such as “staying like this, no more than inglorious” does imply the imagined non-movement and the visual isolation of the “inglorious” subjects. My proposed readings have aimed at unfolding some pragmatic and cognitive implications of the actual uses of language by characters, as well as by the primary speaking ‘I’; such implications have been detected across all their functions—the presentational and the interactional, as well as the representational. In so doing, I hope that this study has presented a more unified picture of the uses of the words that I have analyzed. {291|}