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Welcome to Ascend!
We are a weekly Great Books podcast hosted by Deacon Harrison Garlick and Adam Minihan.
What are the Great Books?
The Great Books are the most impactful texts that have shaped Western civilization. They include ancients like Homer, Plato, St. Augustine, Dante, and St. Thomas Aquinas, and also moderns like Machiavelli, Locke, and Nietzsche. We will explore the Great Books with the light of the Catholic intellectual tradition.
Why should we read the Great Books?
Everyone is a disciple of someone. A person may have never read Locke or Nietzsche, but he or she thinks like them. Reading the Great Books allows us to reclaim our intellect and understand the origin of the ideas that shape our world. We enter a ”great conversation” amongst the most learned, intelligent humans in history and benefit from their insights.
Is this for first-time readers?
YES. Our goal is to host meaningful conversations on the Great Books by working through the texts in chronological order in a slow, attentive manner. Our host Adam Minihan is a first-time reader of Homer. We will start shallow and go deep. All are invited to join.
Will any resources be available?
YES. We are providing a free 115 Question & Answer Guide to the Iliad written by Deacon Harrison Garlick in addition to our weekly conversations. It will be available on the website (launching next week).
Go pick up a copy of the Iliad!
We look forward to reading Homer with you in 2024.
The podcast Ascend – The Great Books Podcast is created by Harrison Garlick and Adam Minihan. The podcast and the artwork on this page are embedded on this page using the public podcast feed (RSS).
We are reading Aeschylus' Oresteia. This week Dcn. Garlick, Adam Minihan, Thomas Lackey, and Dr. Frank Grabowski discuss part two of Aeschylus' Agamemnon, the second part of the first play of the Oresteia.
Check out thegreatbookspodcast.com for more sources.
Check out our written guide to the Oresteia.
I. Clytemnestra and Agamemnon: Murder, Manipulation & Denial (795)
Clytemnestra dominates Agamemnon as a complex figure of cleverness, rage, and manipulation. Upon Agamemnon’s return, she denies him a true homecoming by rolling out the red tapestries and inviting him to walk on them (901). Two main observations on the red tapestries. First, Clytemnestra is literally denying Agamemnon the satisfaction of setting his foot on Argos’s soil. It is a denial of him truly coming home. Compare this denial to the herald who praises the soil of Argos upon his return (493).
Second, walking on the tapestries is an act of hubris and impiety. Even Agamemnon states it is an act reserved for the gods (915). It said that the dye needed to make these tapestries would have been incredibly laborious and expensive—and upon walking upon them, they would be ruined. Note also their comparison to streams of blood (903). Clytemnestra is inviting Agamemnon to a prideful, impious, and prodigal act. The invitation should be compared to Agamemnon’s opening lines that praise and give gratitude to the gods (795).
Clytemnestra hatred is profound. Her actions reflect years of planning, deep-seated hatred, and extraordinary control over the narrative surrounding the king’s return. She is leading Agamemnon into impiety so that he will die at odds with the divine. It is akin, in Catholic parlance, to leading someone into mortal sin prior to murdering them. It is a supernatural cruelty similar to Achilles intentionally throwing bodies in the river to deny them their burial rites in the Iliad.
Agamemnon's behavior in this moment reflects his characteristic weakness. He is effeminate, weak-willed, and impressionable. Clytemnestra is clever and dominative (935). He even states that Clytemnestra is treating him “like a woman” (912). His inability to assert himself as either husband or king leaves him vulnerable to Clytemnestra's intellectual superiority. She remarks: “The power is yours, if you surrender your free will to me,” underscoring how she undermines his authority on every level (939). One should recall the wife of Odysseus, Penelope, the “matchless queen of cunning,” who through her wit and fidelity preserved King Odysseus’ kingdom and herself until his return. One may see Clytemnestra as an evil Penelope—a queen whose wit is turned against her king to his destruction.
II. The Chorus and the Tragedy of Cassandra (977)
The old men of Argos, the chorus, “huddle in terror” as Agamemnon and Clytemnestra enter the palace. They are afraid and inept. Notice the imagery of a man’s blood wetting the earth and whether it can then sing (1017). It is difficult not to think of the story of Cain and Abel, and how Abel’s blood cried out to God (Genesis 4:10). Clytemnestra reemerges from the palace and attempts to coax Cassandra, the Trojan princess, into the palace. Cassandra is silent, which is expected, as it was tradition only two persons would speak on the stage at a time—and here Clytemnestra and the leader of the chorus are both speaking. As an aside, one of the most comical moments of the entire Oresteia was when Cassandra was revealed (947). Agamemnon steps down from his chariot in front of a wife who hates him only to reveal the young, beautiful Trojan princess. It is a darkly comedic moment in which one imagines the internal hatred churning in Clytemnestra at the sight of Cassandra.
Aeschylus plays with his audience’s assumption that Cassandra is not a speaking character. When Clytemnestra goes into the palace, it would have been a surprise enough to have Cassandra speak—but Aeschylus has her scream (1072). As Lackey describes, Cassandra’s scream would have shocked the audience and created a sense of foreboding. Lackey compares the moment to a “jump scare in a horror movie,” emphasizing how unexpected and unsettling it would feel to a Greek audience accustomed to the constraints of the dramatic tradition.
Aeschylus draws heavily from the myth of Cassandra. To wit, Apollo, the god of prophecy, desired Cassandra, but in the act of coupling with her, she drew away from him (1213). It is a rare occurrence of the divine act lacking fecundity. As such, Apollo cursed Cassandra with the gift of prophecy, but no one will believe her (1218). The one caveat is that when someone does finally believe her, it will be a sign of her death is imminent (1219).[1]
Her prophetic warnings go unheeded, as per her curse, but her vivid descriptions of the family’s blood-soaked history and impending doom deepen the play’s tension. “The house that hates god, an echoing womb of guilt… soil streaming blood,” Cassandra cries, invoking the horrors of Tantalus and Atreus (1088). Aeschylus uses Cassandra to explain the action that will occur offstage, as she describes Agamemnon’s death (1126).
Justice in Agamemnon is reduced to cycles of revenge, a primitive form of blood vengeance that sustains violence rather than resolving it. Cassandra herself is tangled in this cycle, a figure of tragic innocence like Iphigenia before her. As Lackey notes, “Cassandra is innocent in so many ways… the most innocent of victims,” and yet she is offered no way out of her fated demise. She is the “last ember” of Troy (1173). One should recall too that in addition to suffering the fall of Troy and the death of her family, Cassandra was raped by little Ajax in the temple of Athena in Troy. It was this evil she suffered that caused Athena to curse the Achaeans with Poseidon’s help during their journey home...
Check out our guide, linked above, for more!
[1] Fagles, 302.
Dcn. Garlick, Dr. Frank Grabowski, and Thomas Lackey are reunited to discuss the first part of Agamemnon, the first play in Aeschylus' Oresteia.
Check out thegreatbookspodcast.com for more information.
From our written guide available to our supporters:
The first play of the Oresteia tells of the homecoming of Agamemnon and is predominately animated by revenge. Aeschylus presents us with questions concerning the legitimacy of the Trojan war, how Argos has suffered without its king, and why Clytemnestra has plotted to murder her husband. Though chronologically Odysseus has not return home yet, one should compare this text to the Odyssey and Odysseus’ own homecoming – written almost three hundred years prior by Homer. Aeschylus draws heavily from Homer but changes small but significant details, which creates a narrative that presents a profound lesson on the weaknesses of lex talionis as enacted by the blood avenger model. Throughout Agamemnon and into Libation Bearers, we are invited to consider whether a new model of justice is needed.
I. The Opening: Unease and Gender Inversions (1)
The play begins with an invocation to the gods, as will the following two plays. Through the watchman, Aeschylus communicates the time and setting to his audience in a manner typical of Greek drama. The watchman’s opening monologue conveys a disquieting mood of fear and quiet dread. As observed, Lackey describes the opening as “a little eerie and a little bit off.” Notably, the watchman yearns for the return of Agamemnon, his king, and we note the king’s absence has left the kingdom, Argos, in suffering (24, 37). One thinks here of the suffering of Ithaca without Odysseus in the Odyssey. The opening passages invites us to ask: “What has life been like in Argos over the past decade during the king’s absence?” and “What is the effect of the empty throne of Argos upon its people?”
From the outset, Aeschylus will play with gender roles and descriptions. Notice Clytemnestra, Agamemnon’s wife, “maneuvers like a man” (13), while Agamemnon himself will be presented as effeminate. This thematic inversion invites readers to examine Aeschylus’ pedagogical purpose for such language. As Dr. Grabowski observes, the toying with gender traits parallels Shakespeare’s Macbeth, wherein Lady Macbeth similarly exhibits masculine qualities of ambition and dominance.
As the play progresses, readers gain insight into life in Argos during Agamemnon’s ten-year absence. The people long for an end to their suffering, for “an end to their pain” (23). Notably, Aeschylus allows us to see how Argos viewed the Trojan war (44), which is largely presented, at first, as a just war in which Agamemnon was the “great avenger” of Zeus punishing Troy for its violation of guest-friendship (45), i.e., Prince Paris absconding with Menelaus’ wife, Helen. The reader should note whether Agamemnon’s return starts to adjust this narrative....
Check out our whole guide on the Oresteia.
Dcn. Harrison Garlick and Adam Minihan are reunited to intro Aeschylus, the Father of Greek Tragedy.
Aeschylus (b. 525 BC) was a warrior, statesman, and the father of Greek tragedy. Born into nobility, he grew up in Athens during its pivotal transition from tyranny to democracy. Furthermore, he famously fought in the Battle of Marathon (490 BC), defending a nascent Western civilization against Persian invasion. Aeschylus died in 456 BC, leaving behind a legacy that shaped the foundation of Greek drama.
Check out thegreatbookspodcast.com for more information.
From our guide on the Oresteia:
1. What is the Ionian Revolt?
To understand Aeschylus, we must first understand the Greco-Persian War (c. 499 BC to 429). In sum, what is called the “First Persian Empire,” founded by Cyrus the Great around 550 BC, stretched from modern-day Iran, Asia Minor, modern day Israel, and Egypt. In Asia Minor, this Persian empire ruled over Hellenistic city-states. One may recall that Troy, a polis with both Hellenistic and eastern traits, was also located in Asia Minor. In 499 BC, the city-states rebelled against their Persian overlords with the support of Athens in what is known as the “Ionian Revolt.” The revolt failed and the Persians retained control of Asia Minor; however, King Darius of the Persian Empire believed Athens should be punished and elected to invade Greece.
2. What was the first invasion in the Greco-Persian Wars?
The Ionian Revolt sparked the larger Greco-Persian Wars and led to King Darius’ invasion of ancient Greece in 492 BC. Athens led the federation of city-states against the Persians, and Aeschylus fought for the Athenian army. Notably, Aeschylus and his brother both fought at the famous Battle of Marathon in 490 BC at which the first Persian invasion was defeated.[1] Aeschylus’ brother, however, died in the conflict.[2] The Battle of Marathon is often held as a watershed moment in the birth of Western culture. The battle is also the namesake of running a marathon, as the legend has it that an Athenian runner ran the twenty-six miles from Marathon to Athens to tell them of the Athenian victory.
3. What was the second Persian invasion in the Greco-Persian Wars?
Ten years later, a second Persian invasion was headed by King Darius’ son, King Xerxes. This is the setting for the famous Battle of Thermopylae (480 BC), in which the smaller Spartan force of approximately 7000 men under King Leonidas held off 120,000-300,000 Persian invaders. The word Thermopylae means “hot gates” and takes its name from the hot springs in that area—it is also fittingly one of the mythological entrances to Hades. After Thermopylae, the Athenians won a great naval battle against the Persians at Salamis in 480 BC. Notably, Aeschylus is said to have fought in this battle as well and wrote his play The Persians about the conflict. The Greeks, led by the Athenians and Spartans, would eventually expel the Persians and bring peace in 449 BC.
4. What do we know about Aeschylus’ writings?
Aeschylus is the “earliest Greek tragic poet whose work survives,” and “he wrote some seventy to ninety plays.”[3] Aeschylus is considered the “real founder of Greek tragedy.”[4] He won his first victory as a tragic poet in 484 BC. It should be noted that the competitions for best tragic play were religious and civil festivals; thus, the plays have deep ramifications for the spiritual and political realities of the Athenians.[5] Only seven of his plays still exist: the Persians (472), the Seven Against Thebes (476), the Oresteia triad (458), the Supplicants (463), and Prometheus Bound—the last of which has disputed authorship and was produced after Aeschylus’ death.[6]
5. Why do we read the Oresteia?
Aeschylus is a teacher. He is a teacher of justice, suffering, and order. The Oresteia is a triad or three plays telling the story of the death of Agamemnon, the death of Clytemnestra, and the trial of Orestes. Aeschylus takes a story well known in Homer and masterfully moves it into a story revealing how Athens matured in its understanding of justice. The execution of justice moves from a familial blood avenger model to a more procedural model of the polis. It represents a considerable step forward in the Greek understanding of justice. In many ways, Aeschylus’ Oresteia gives us a more robust ending that what we received in the Odyssey. Looking forward, it brings us one step closer to considerations of justice in Plato’s Republic. The Oresteia, like all great books, comments on the human condition, and offers perennial truths for those with the patience to listen.
Coming up! Join us in reading the Oresteia:
Footnotes:
[1] Companion, 15.
[2] Companion, 15.
[3] Companion, 15.
[4] Companion, 15.
[5] Companion, 16.
[6] Companion, 15.
Dcn. Harrison Garlick, Dr. Frank Grabowski, and Mr. Thomas Lackey come together to discuss Hesiod's Theogony - a poem about the origin of the gods and the cosmos.
Key conversations:
Hesiod is a contemporary of Homer. Homer composed the Iliad around 750 BC and the Odyssey around 725 BC, and Hesiod was active in the mid 700s and into the 600s.[1] Hesiod, like Homer, has roots in Asia Minor. His father is believed to have been a merchant who moved from Asia Minor to Mount Helicon in ancient Greece.[2]
Notably, Mount Helicon had several springs that were sacred to the Muses, and it serves as the setting of the opening of the Theogony. Hesiod lived an agricultural life working his family farm and writing poetry. Hesiod is similar to Homer insofar as both are the recipients of a large treasury of Greek mythology. Hesiod is dissimilar to Homer insofar as Hesiod most likely originally wrote his plays—as opposed to them existing first as oral rhapsodies that were then reduced to writing, like with Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey.
Check out our Musings of the Theogony written guide!
Check out our website for more resources.
[1] See A Reader’s Guide: 115 Questions on the Iliad, Ascend: The Great Books Podcast.
[2] See Ed. M. C. Howatson, Oxford Companion to Classical Literature (Oxford University Press: Oxford, 2013), 294.
You can read the Greek plays with Ascend!
Dcn. Harrison Garlick flies solo this week as he explains why you should read the Greek plays. He discusses how the plays are an intellectual bridge between Plato and Homer and explains some of the major themes you can expect in their writings: justice, eros, fate, divinity, etc.
He'll then introduce each Greek play to be read and why it is worth reading.
Join us! Schedule below:
HESIOD'S THEOGONY & GREEK PLAYS (2025)
1/1 Intro to the Greek Plays
1/7 Hesiod's Theogony
THE ORESTEIA by Aeschylus
1/14 Into to Aeschylus
1/21 Agamemnon Part I
1/28 Agamemnon Part II
2/4 Libation Bearers Part I
2/11 Libation Bearers Part II
2/18 Eumenides Part I
2/25 Eumenides Part II
READ DANTE'S INFERNO WITH ASCEND
We are reading Dante's Inferno over LENT 2025.
3/4 Introduction & Canto I
3/11 Cantos II-V
3/18 Cantos VI-XI
3/25 Cantos XII-XVII
4/1 Cantos XVIII-XXV
4/8 Cantos XXVI-XXX
4/15 Cantos XXXII-XXXIV
BACK TO THE GREEK PLAYS
4/22 Prometheus Bound with Dr. Jared Zimmerer
THE THEBAN PLAYS by Sophocles
4/29 Antigone Part I
5/6 Antigone Part II
5/13 Oedipus Rex
5/20 Oedipus at Colonus Part I
5/27 Oedipus at Colonus Part II
6/3 The Bacchae Part I with Dr. Frank Grabowski
6/10 The Bacchae Part II with Dr. Frank Grabowski
6/17 Roundtable on the Tragic Plays
Aristophanes
6/24 The Clouds by Aristophanes with Dr. Zena Hitz
6/1 The Frogs by Aristophanes with Tsh Oxenreider
Find out more at thegreatbookspodcast.com.
This week Dcn. Garlick is joined by Alberto Fernandez, a former U.S. diplomat and Vice President of the Middle East Media Research Institute (MEMRI) in Washington, D.C., to discuss "The Tower of the Elephant," one of the best Conan the Barbarian stories by Robert E. Howard.
Deacon and Alberto discuss the life and philosophy of Robert E. Howard along with key elements of the "Tower of the Elephant" short story (which is available online for free).
Topics:
In 2025, we are reading Hesiod, the Greek plays, Dante, and Plato! Join us! Check out thegreatbookspodcast.com for more information.
Dcn. Harrison Garlick is joined by Kyle Washut, President of Wyoming Catholic College, to discuss the Odyssey as the restoration of Catholic Culture and the unique educational approach of Wyoming Catholic College.
President Washut takes on the question: "Why go to a great books college" and gives an excellent answer.
They have a brief detour into the importance of Eastern Catholicism before discussing the influence of John Senior on education and how the Odyssey serves as a metaphor for rebuilding culture.
The conversation also highlights the integration of horsemanship as a means of personal development and the necessity of great teachers in the pursuit of a meaningful life.
Quotes:
"Horsemanship is soul craft."
"You need to submit yourself to great teachers."
"The Odyssey is a guide for rebuilding culture."
"Religion is a natural virtue."
Keywords: Great Books, Wyoming Catholic College, John Senior, Eastern Catholicism, Patristic Tradition, Odyssey, Education, Theology, Horsemanship, Benedictine, classical education, poetics, realism, Odysseus, Greek mythology, immortality, sacrifice, civilization, Homer, philosophy
Visit thegreatbookspodcast.com for more information!
THE FINAL BOOK! Dcn. Garlick is joined by Adam Minihan, David Niles, Thomas Lackey, and Dr. Frank Grabowski to discuss Book 24 of the Odyssey: Peace.
Check out thegreatbookspodcast.com for more information.
From our guide:
111. What happens in book twenty-four?
Hermes leads the souls of the suitors to Hades, to the fields of asphodel, where they meet Achilles and Agamemnon (24.130). One of the suitors tells Agamemnon their story, and Agamemnon praises Odysseus calling him “happy” and praises his wife Penelope in contrast to his wife, Clytemnestra (24.210). Meanwhile, Odysseus and his men arrive at his country estate, and he elects to test his father, Laertes (24.238). Laertes passes the test, and Odysseus reveals himself to his father by showing him the scar (24.368). Elsewhere on Ithaca, the families of the suitors have discovered their deaths and cries arise in the city (24.457). Eupithes, father of Antinous, rallies the kinsmen of the suitors to take revenge upon King Odysseus (24.471). Medon, the bard, warns the mob that the deathless gods helped Odysseus (24.485), and Halitherses, a seer, tells them it was due to their own “craven hearts” that the massacred occurred (24.501).
Athena intercedes on Odysseus’ behalf, and Zeus declares there should be peace in Ithaca (24.534). The mob arrives outside the country estate, and Odysseus, Laertes, Telemachus, and others prepare for combat (24.552). Athena strengthens Laertes to spear Eupithes in the head (24.576), and then she brokers peace between the two factions (24.584)
112. Who gained the most glory: Achilles, Agamemnon, or Odysseus?
The opening passage on the plains of asphodel serves to compare the lives of Achilles, Agamemnon, and Odysseus. Agamemnon recounts the funeral of Achilles and the glory he achieved there, e.g., the Muses sang, he’s buried in a golden urn made by Hephaestus, etc. (24.64). Agamemnon explicitly states Achilles has achieved immortal glory (24.100), and Achilles’ death and burial serves as a comparison to the ignoble death of Agamemnon (24.30). If Agamemnon would have died in glory at Troy, he too could have had immortal glory—but instead, he was betrayed and slaughtered by his own wife. Despite Achilles having the better of the glory, we have already seen that he would trade it all in to be alive again—even if only to be a dirt farmer. Thus, when Agamemnon calls Odysseus “happy,” this seems to be a final judgment that Odysseus has found the best path: he has the glory (kleos) of both fighting in Troy and returning home—but he also now has political and familial peace. In a certain way, whereas Achilles had to choose between two fates (glory or peace), Odysseus has been given both.
Good work everyone!
Dcn. Harrison Garlick is joined by Mrs. Rachel Greb to discuss Book 23 of the Odyssey: The Great Rooted Bed.
Check out thegreatbookspodcast.com for more resources!
From our written guide:
108. What happens in book twenty-three?
The old maid Eurycleia, laughing with delight, runs and tells Penelope that the day she’s dreamed of is here: Odysseus has come home (23.05). “Penelope’s heart busts in joy” upon hearing that the beggar in the hall was actually her husband (23.34). Penelope, however, falls back into her guarded skepticism (23.75). She enters the hall and sits in silence studying his face in “numbing wonder” (23.100). Meanwhile, Odysseus counsels Telemachus on the threat of the suitors being avenged and asks that the whole house be full of dancing and merrymaking to hide the fact the suitors have all been slain (23.146). Odysseus is bathed, and Penelope instructs her servants to drag the marital bed out the chamber for this “strange man” to sleep on (23.193). Odysseus falls into a “fury,” as he knows the marital bed he made cannot be moved: it is made of the stump of an olive tree still rooted in the ground (23.203).
Odysseus passes the test, and Penelope runs to him and embraces him in tears (23.230). Odysseus tells her of his penitential journey he must undertake to appease Poseidon (23.282), and, after the two delight in each other, he tells her of his journey home (23.349). The book ends with Odysseus, inspired by Athena, going out into the country to visit his father (23.407).
109. What should be noted about the reunion of Penelope and Odysseus?
Penelope’s “heart bust[ing] in joy” at hearing the beggar was Odysseus again raises the question of what she already suspected. Despite the reaction, she quickly resumes her guarded skepticism (23.75). Most notably, Penelope is not convinced by the scar (22.83), and we should recall Telemachus’ earlier concern that a god could deceive them in the guise of Odysseus. Penelope shares this concern (23.250). What test has Penelope devised to avoid this fate? Note that Telemachus cannot understand what is happening between the man of twists and turns and the matchless queen of cunning (23.111).
Penelope’s test is one of the intimate knowledge between husband and wife. The knowledge of the marital bed is the “secret sign” between them (23.226), as it is carved in part from a stump still rooted in the ground (23.222). The immovable marriage bed is an analogue for Penelope’s fidelity to her husband. It is the final answer to the parallel narrative of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra.
Next week Book 24 and the end of the Odyssey!
Slaughter in the hall! This week Dcn. Harrison Garlick is joined by Dr. Adam Cooper of Wyoming Catholic College to discuss Odysseus' revenge upon the suitors in Book 24.
Check out thegreatbookspodcast.com for more information!
103. What happens in book twenty-two?
The time has come. Odysseus stands at the threshold of his home, cries out to Apollo, and lets loose an arrow straight through the neck of Antinous (22.15). It is chaos in the hall, as the “bread and meats [were] soaked in a swirl of bloody filth” (22.21). Eurymachus attempts to broker a true between Odysseus and the suitors—but it is rejected (22.57). Eurymachus then calls the suitors to arms and is subsequently slaughtered by Odysseus (22.73). Telemachus brings armor and weapons to his father, the swineherd, and the cowherd (22.121), but the goatherd, however, is able to sneak weapons and armor to the suitors as well (22.151). On his second run for weapons, the cowherd and swineherd intercept the goatherd and tie him up and hang him from the rafters (22.196).
Athena first arrives in the guise of Mentor (22.217) and then becomes like a sparrow perched on the rafters assisting Odysseus in his slaughter (22.250). She reveals her “man-destroying shield of thunder” and the suitors fall into a panicked madness; as Odysseus and his men went “wheeling into the slaughter, slashing left and right, and grisly screams broke from skulls cracked open—the whole floor awash with blood” (22.311). With only a few suitors left in the hall, Odysseus has no mercy on their prophet but spares the bard and the herald (22.327).
The slaughter of the suitors is complete. Odysseus has the old maid, Eurycleia, send in the female servants who were disloyal (22.458), and these women help to carry out the corpses and clean the home of gore (22.471). Telemachus then oversees the disloyal women being slowly hanged in the courtyard—a “pitiful, ghastly death” (22.487). The goatherd is retrieved and mutilated to death by the swineherd and cowherd (22.500). Odysseus purifies his home with fire and brimstone (22.518). The book ends with the loyal maid servants of the house surrounding Odysseus, and the king breaks down and weeps (22.528).
104. What should be noted in how the suitors are slaughtered
Odysseus invokes Apollo, the god of archery, on his feast day to help him with his slaughter (22.07). Notice that Homer makes it explicit that the suitors are killed while feasting (22.09). Homer writes, “food showered across the hall, the bread and meats soaked in a swirl of bloody filth” (22.21). It recalls Odysseus’ statement that he is going to give them the feast they deserve (21.477). The mixed imagery of food and slaughter gives credence to seeing Odysseus as the cyclops consuming his guests. One wonders whether Antinous being shot in the throat is symbolic of his constant vile rhetoric throughout the narrative (22.15).
Consistent with what we have previously observed, Eurymachus attempts to talk his way out of the situation, which includes an appeal for the king to spare his own people (22.57). Notice Odysseus says they can fight or flee, but it is not apparent that they can actually flee the situation nor that Athena would permit it (22.69).
Arguably, Odysseus kills Antinous and Eurymachus first to deprive the suitors of their leadership—a fact he would have observed as the beggar. The suitors, which greatly outnumber Odysseus and his men, could overwhelm Odysseus, but instead their cowardice allows them to be picked off individually.
Lastly, as with the cyclops narrative, Odysseus and his men are aware of the irony of guest-friendship, as they, for example, refer to throwing a spear as a guest-gift (22.304).
105. What should be made of the death of the serving women?
The death of the female servants is one of the most disturbing scenes in Homer. Note the disloyal female servants are made to gather the bodies and clean the gore of the suitors—many of whom were their lovers (22.462). Odysseus makes this comparison explicit when he states the female servants will lie with the suitors in death as they did in life (22.469). Note, however, they Odysseus commands they be cut down with swords (22.468). Telemachus, however, has more cruel designs in mind in recompense for the abuse the disloyal women laid upon him and his mother (22.488). In one of the more famous scenes of the Odyssey, Telemachus has the women hanged slowly (22.497). The deaths are a sign that disloyalty is one of the graver faults in the Homeric world—a lesson shown best in the death of Melanthius, the goatherd.
Keep up the good work!
Dcn. Harrison Garlick is joined by another Catholic deacon, Dcn. Adam Conque to discuss Book 21 of the Odyssey: Odysseus Strings His Bow.
Check out more at thegreatbookspodcast.com
Help support the podcast and get access to guides!
From the guide:
100. What happens in book twenty-one?
The time has come for Penelope’s test and the slaughter the suitors (21.05). Penelope brings out Odysseus’ bow, one he received as a gift of friendship (21.40), and Telemachus sets out a line of ax heads the suitors must shoot through (21.140). Telemachus gives the first attempt and fails to even bend the bow (21.143). Leodes, a suitor, attempts and fails to even bend the bow as well (21.170). Antinous, who has been mocking everyone, has the goatherd attempt to limber the bow with fire and grease (21.198). Meanwhile, Odysseus takes the cowherd and swineherd out and reveals himself as their king—the three then plot the death of the suitors and return to hall. Eurymachus tries and cannot even bend the bow (21.274). Antinous, noting that Penelope has given them a test of archery on the feast day of Apollo, leads the suitors in a libation to the Archer God (21.289).
Odysseus the beggar asks to try and is mocked by the suitors—but with the help of Penelope, Telemachus, and the swineherd, he is given his bow (21.314). The suitors look on with horror as he plucks the string with ease like a musical virtuoso (21.456). Odysseus lets an arrow fly, and the arrow passes through the ax heads perfectly (21.469). The book ends with Odysseus calling his son to arms, as it is time to provide the suitors their supper (21.473).
101. What should be noted about Odysseus’ bow?
First, note that the bow was given to Odysseus as a gift, and one given in friendship (21.40). Second, it is a foreign bow (21.15). One wonders whether Odysseus’ ability to use the bow is not simply a test of strength but a test of techne, i.e., there is a cleverness needed to understand how to use the bow. Note that he seems to use a stool (21.467). Such a test would be more aligned with Odysseus as coupling of both cunning and strength. Third, it is notable that he did not take the bow to Troy with him.
Moreover, one may question the veracity of Telemachus’ attempt (21.149). To wit, his failure and his commentary on it seems so dramatic that one wonders whether he is presenting himself as weak, as non-threatening to mislead the suitors right before the trap is sprung. Notice his language: “must I be a weakling, a failure all my life,” and “come, my betters” speaking of the suitors (21.150, 53). He speaks like the old Telemachus before his maturation, but the new Telemachus is confident and knows his father has come home. Is Telemachus channeling the rhetoric of his father and presenting a falsehood?
Penelope running interference for Odysseus the beggar to attempt the test to become her suitor lends again to her knowing or having a suspicion of who he truly is (21.350). Moreover, pay attention to how she speaks of the beggar fondly (21.373).
We are in the final stretch of our Year with Homer!
Dcn. Harrison Garlick is joined by Dr. Jennifer Frey of the University of Tulsa Honors College to discuss Book 20 of the Odyssey: The Portents Gather.
Check out thegreatbookspodcast.com for guides and more!
From the written guide:
97. What happens in book twenty?
After his conversation with Penelope, Odysseus the beggar lays in bed alert to the fact the maidservants are leaving the house to go sleep with the suitors (20.08). Athena causes him to fall asleep (20.59), and in the morning Odysseus prays to Zeus for an omen of support (20.109). His prayer is answered and his “heart leapt up… convinced he’d grind the scoundrels’ lives out in revenge” (20.134). The palace is alive in preparation for a feast in honor of Apollo (20.173).
We are introduced to a new character, the cowherd, who is immediately reminded of king Odysseus when he sees Odysseus the beggar the first time (20.224). Athena stirs up the suitors (20.316), and one of the suitors throws on “oxhoof” at Odysseus (20.320). Telemachus chastises the suitor (20.339), and the suitors ask Telemachus to have Penelope choose a new husband (20.370). Athena whips the suitors up into a frenzy (20.385), and the prophet, Theoclymenus, leaves the palace—as he is so troubled by his visions of the house drenched in blood (20.390). The book ends with the suitors mocking Telemachus, Telemachus bearing it stoically while looking at his father, and Penelope listening to every word said in the hall (20.439).
98. What should be made of Odysseus’ request of Athena?
Odysseus’ request of Athena gives structure to the rest of the text (20.41). First, recall that it is Zeus that oversees guest-friendship; thus, Odysseus understands he needs divine permission to kill the guests in his home. Second, note the concern that if he does kill the suitors, their avengers will come to kill him (20.45). Here, we need to understand the judicial custom of blood avengers. In short, if a person in the family was murdered, a member of the victim’s family bore a responsibility to then avenger the death of their relative. This is the underpinning to the story of Orestes killing Aegisthus for the murder of his father, Agamemnon. Later in Aeschylus’ Oresteia, the tragedian will take up this story and explore the shortcomings with this understanding of justice. One such fault with the blood avenger model of justice is that is perpetuates circles of violence. For example, Odysseus will kill the suitors, but the family of the suitors will then seek to murder him; in turn, if they do murder Odysseus, Telemachus would then be bound to avenge father. As such, the concern is how does the cycle of violence stop? The answer to that question will be given one way at the end of the Odyssey and in another at the end of the Oresteia.
Returning to the text, note that Athena does not answer him (20.47). Odysseus needs to have faith, as he’s not given a detailed explanation of the divine plan. It is notable the passage ends with Homer using “loosed his limbs” as an idiom for sleep—as its normally an idiom for death (20.61). One wonders then if we are not on the verge of a rebirth for Odysseus.
Finally, despite Athena’s response, note that Odysseus still asks Zeus for a sign—and Zeus gives it to him (20.109).
More questions and answers in our guide!
Dcn. Harrison Garlick is joined by Mary Pat Donoghue, Executive Director of the Secretariat of Catholic Education at the USCCB, to discuss Book 19 of the Odyssey: Penelope and her guest.
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From our written guide:
93. What happens in book nineteen?
With the suitors retired for the evening to their own houses, Odysseus and Telemachus clear the hall of weapons, as Athena carries a golden lamp to light their way (19.35). Odysseus is harassed by the maidservant Melantho (19.70), and Melantho is warned by both Odysseus the beggar and Penelope that judgment is coming (19.97). Odysseus sits down with Penelope, and the two begin to trade carefully crafted responses (19.110). Odysseus, still disguised as a beggar, spins a falsehood for his wife about his history, which includes that he had met Odysseus (19.193). Penelope tests the beggar by asking about Odysseus’ clothing, which Odysseus is easily able to answer (19.259). Odysseus the beggar tells Penelope her husband is alive and returning soon (19.310). Penelope, skeptical of the claim (19.354), arranges for the old maid, Eurycleia, to wash Odysseus’ feet (19.406). Eurycleia recognizes Odysseus due to his scar—and we hear the story of how Odysseus received his name (19.445). Odysseus threatens the old servant, his old wetnurse, into silence (19.554). The book ends with Odysseus interpreting a dream for Penelope, and Penelope tells Odysseus the beggar how she intends to test the suitors (19.644).
94. What should be noted in the dialogue of Odysseus and Penelope?
The matchless queen of cunning and the man of twists and turns have their reunion—to a degree. Notice that Odysseus’ original answer to Penelope is a non-answer (19.114). Penelope, in response however, appears to be quite open with her beggar-guest (19.137). What is the impetus of her openness to this stranger? Is she simply isolated, exhausted and recognizes in the beggar a noble spirit to which she can decompress? Or is Penelope’s openness and invitation for the beggar to be open, because she suspects it is Odysseus? If Argos the dog can recognizes his master through this disguise, why not his cunning wife? The question of when Penelope suspects the beggar is Odysseus haunts the text.
Odysseus arguably loves Penelope because of her wit, and she sharing the story of the loom would have been quite endearing to him (19.169). Odysseus tests his wife—recall the Clytemnestra episode—but the reader should be cognizant of to what degree Penelope is testing Odysseus (19.248). She certainly tests him in the story he presents, but one wonders to what degree she is testing him in her suspicions of who he really is. One notes how often Odysseus the beggar refers to his wife as “noble wife of Laertes’ son, Odysseus” (19.299, 384).
It is notable as well that the oath given is on the hearth of the home of Odysseus and Penelope (19.349). Odysseus’ commentary on curses for those who are cruel toward guests and glory for those who are kind toward colors both his return home and his episode with the cyclops (19.376). Note also that xenia can be a source of glory and fame (19.382). In other words, glory comes not simply from wartime excellence but also peacetime hospitality. It reveals a path to glory in peace, which aligns with the Odyssey being a parallel to the city of peace of Achilles’ shield.
The book ends with another episode of Penelope seeming to be overly open to this beggar in her house, as she tells him her dream (19.603). Again, one wonders what she suspects and whether her openness is supposed to draw out a reciprocal openness. Her weeping at the end lends to theories that she suspects the beggar is Odysseus but the safeguards she has put in place around her heart will not admit it (19.680).
Join us!
Dr. Jared Zimmerer of Benedictine College returns to the podcast to discuss Book 18 of the Odyssey with Dcn. Garlick and Adam Minihan.
Check out thegreatbookspodcast.com for more.
From our written guide:
90. What happens in book eighteen?
Another beggar, a man nicknamed Irus, arrives at Odysseus’ palace and begins to harass Odysseus, the beggar in disguise (18.13). Antinous, the suitor, elects to host a battle between Odysseus the beggar and Irus—the winner will dine with the suitors and loser will be cast out (18.56). Odysseus soundly beats the would-be beggar king (18.121) and is rewarded with a meal from the suitors (18.136). Penelope comes forth, blessed by Athena, and the “suitors’ knees went slack, their hearts dissolved in lust” (18.241). The suitors bring Penelope gifts, and Odysseus sees his wife’s actions for what they are—a plot to lure gifts from the suitors (18.316). The suitor Eurymachus offers Odysseus the beggar work, but Odysseus’ response causes him to throw a stool at him (18.437). The book ends with Amphinomus calling for peace and leading the suitors in a libation to the gods (18.463).
91. Could a suitor repent?
It appears the fate of the suitors is already locked in fate. Notice that despite Amphinomus’ forebodings that something is wrong, Athena has already bound him to the fate of death (18.178). Similarly, Athena goads the suitors into acting worse (18.391). In fact, Telemachus appears to intuit this fact (18.459). To wit, it appears that the suitors no longer have the capacity to repent. Athena is holding them to their violent fate and even festering the problem. One may recall that Odysseus’ coming home was compared to the “shadow of death,” and it appears after that moment the fate of the suitors was sealed.
92. What else should be observed in book eighteen?
The mockery of guest-friendship continues, as the suitors have the beggars fight each other for food (18.56). It is important to note that Penelope critiques the suitors for their violation of guest-friendship on the grounds they have deviated from the “time-honored way” and should have been bringing animals to her house “to feast the friends of the bride-to-be” (18.309). Assuming we take this assertion to be true, it is an important insight into how the suitors are violating the norms of guest-friendship. Regardless, we see that Odysseus delights in his wife’s wit, the matchless queen of cunning, as he recognizes her ploy to receive gifts from the suitors in recompense for their violations (18.316).
Notice that Eurymachus is sleeping with the servant girl, Melantho (18.368). The disloyalty of the servant women to the house of their master, Odysseus, should be noted. Moreover, the polished rhetorical mask of Eurymachus slips at Odysseus’ quips (18.437). It is a notable scene as both rhetoricians are wearing a mask, so to speak, and Odysseus proves himself the better rhetorician. The fact that neither Telemachus or Odysseus will act until Athena gives them approval may be read that it is ultimately Zeus that oversees and judging guest-friendship; thus, it is not until the divine is ready to pass judgment that the mortals can act.
Our Year with Homer continues next week!
Dcn. Harrison Garlick is joined by Dr. Jared Zimmerer to discuss Book 17 of the Odyssey: The Stranger at the Gates.
Dr. Jared Zimmerer is the Content Marketing Director and Great Books adjunct professor for Benedictine College in Atchison, Kansas. The former Senior Director of the Word on Fire Institute and the Dean of Pastoral Fellows. He holds a PhD in Humanities from Faulkner University and a master’s degree in Theology from Holy Apostles College. He and his wife Jessica live in Atchison, Kansas, with their six children.
Check out more resources at thegreatbookspodcast.com.
From the guide:
86. What happens in book seventeen?
Telemachus returns home and presents himself to his mother (17.36). He tells of his journey to Pylos and Sparta, and how Menelaus told him that Odysseus was being held captive on the island of Calypso (17.45). The prophet, Theoclymenus, declares that Odysseus is already on Ithaca (17.168). Meanwhile, the Swineherd and Odysseus—in the guise of a beggar—start to make their way to the palace and are mocked by the goatherd, Melanthius (17.231). As they approached the palace, Odyssey sees the dog he trained as a puppy, Argo, “invested with ticks, half dead from neglect” laying on a pile of dung (17.319). Argo recognizes his master and Odysseus hides his tears (17.330). As Odysseus enters his home, “the dark shadow of death closed down on Argo’s eyes” (17.359).
Odysseus, as the beggar, tests the suitors by asking each one for a scrap to eat (17.398). The suitor Antinous mocks him and throws a stool at Odysseus (17.492). Odysseus is “unstaggered” by the blow, silent, “his mind churning with thoughts of bloody work” (17.513). The book ends with Penelope inviting Odysseus the beggar to come and tell her his story face to face (17.588).
87. How does the theme of guest-friendship (xenia) inform book seventeen?
The predominant theme in book seventeen is that Odysseus returns home and does so as a guest in his own house. Homer is arguably drawing a parallel between Odysseus’ return home and cyclops narrative. As Odysseus raided the cyclops’ cave and intended to pervert guest-friendship to receive gifts, so too does he now find guests in his own home devouring his goods. Moreover, as the cyclops consumed his ill-intentioned guests, so too will Odysseus consume his. The two narratives are linked explicitly by the curse the cyclops asks of Poseidon after Odysseus escapes and reveals his name.
Other aspects of xenia to observe include the prophet, Theoclymenus, making an oath according to the table of hospitality (17.169). Moreover, we see that xenia is not only something upon which an oath may be made but also a standard of judgment—as it is for the suitors and their treatment of Odysseus the beggar (17.397). We also see guest-friendship expose the irony that the suitors—who are devouring the house of their host—mock Odysseus the beggar as bleeding the house dry (17.425, 492). Notably, the suitors are aware, in part, of Antinous’ violation of guest-friendship, as they condemn him hitting Odysseus the beggar with the stool (17.531).
Much more in our written guide!
Dcn. Harrison Garlick is joined by independent scholar and friend of the podcast Mr. Thomas Lackey to discuss book 16 of the Odyssey: Father and Son.
Check out thegreatbookspodcast.com for our written guide!
From the guide:
83. What happens in book sixteen?
Telemachus arrives at the home of the Swineherd and, the Swineherd greets him like a father welcoming “home his darling only son” (16.19). Telemachus meets Odysseus disguised as a beggar, and the three men discuss the problem of the suitors (16.100). Telemachus tells the Swineherd to tell Queen Penelope he is back in Ithaca (16.148), and to have one of her servants tell Laertes the same (16.172). After the departure of the swineherd, Odysseus sees Athena outside the house under the guise of a woman “beautiful, tall and skilled at weaving things” (16.179). Odysseus goes to meet her, and she says now is the time to reveal himself to his son, Telemachus (16.189). She transforms him back into Odysseus the hero, and Telemachus is “wonderstruck” and believes some god has entered the house of the Swineherd (16.194). Odysseus tells Telemachus he is his father (16.212) and, after some disbelief, the father and son embrace and weep together (16.243). The two then discuss the slaughter of the suitors and form a plan in which Odysseus, disguised again as a beggar, will go into his own home with the suitors until Athena tells him the time is right (16.298). Meanwhile, the suitors are told that Telemachus escaped their ambush and is back in Ithaca (16.382). Antinous, one of the suitors, calls for the murder of Telemachus (16.401), and Penelope overhears the plot and chastises Antinous (16.453). The book ends with the Swineherd returning home and feasting with Telemachus and Odysseus—who is once again disguised as a beggar by Athena (16.505).
84. What do we see in the reunion of Odysseus and Telemachus?
It seems fitting that Odysseus, who has been testing everyone, would in turn be tested by his son upon his grand reveal (16.220). Notably, the concern that a spirit or god would attempt to trick Telemachus with an imposter Odysseus (16.220) is a concern that Penelope shares and will later voice—but it is only the latter who has devised a test to avoid that fate. Telemachus seems to eventually simply trust Odysseus’ testimony (16.243). Telemachus still appears unexperienced with the gods, as he confuses his father for one (16.202) and doubts Athena’s plan (16.273). It is hard not to read Odysseus’ response about whether Athena and Zeus will be adequate as sarcasm (16.291). Telemachus, however, has grown into his own wit as shown by his retort: “off in the clouds they sit” (16.299). He has also grown in confidence of his own strategic thinking (16.342).
Odysseus shares with Telemachus he’ll return to his home in disguise and bear whatever he must until Athena says it is time (16.303). The strategy behind Odysseus’ return seems patterned off the Agamemnon narrative, but the problem itself seems patterned off his episode with the cyclops. He will come home to find guests of malintent within his home and then consume them.
The YEAR WITH HOMER continues!
Dcn. Harrison Garlick and Adam Minihan continue the YEAR WITH HOMER by discussing Book 15 of the Odyssey: The Prince Sets Sail for Home.
Check out our guide at thegreatbookspodcast.com.
80. What happens in book fifteen?
Athena goes to Sparta and inspires the young Telemachus to return home quickly (15.10) and advises him on how to avoid the ambush set by the suitors (15.31). Menelaus gives Telemachus kingly gifts and sends him and Nestor’s son back to Pylos (15.112). Telemachus asks Nestor’s son to leave him at his ship and not take him back to Nestor’s house—as to be able to return home quickly and not be hosted again by the old king (15.222). As Telemachus is praying to Athena before launching his ship (15.246), a stranger approaches and asks to sail with him (15.286). Telemachus agrees, and the prophet Theoclymenus joins him on his journey back to Ithaca (15.312).
Meanwhile, Odysseus the beggar tells the Swineherd he plans to go beg from the suitors (15.351). The Swineherd tells Odysseus the beggar his own story—and we discover that the Swineherd comes from a royal line (15.463). He was a toddler kidnapped, sold into slavery, purchased by Laertes, Odysseus’ father, and raised by Odysseus’ mother (15.540). The book ends with Telemachus returning to Ithaca and heading to the home of the Swineherd (15.618).
81. What is notable about the story of the Swineherd?
The story of the Swineherd reveals him to be royalty (15.437). To wit, he was kidnapped by a female servant who was subsequently killed by Artemis (15.534), and he ended up being purchased by Laertes, Odysseus’ father (15.540). The noble soul of the Swineherd now has a fitting backstory. Note also the contrast between the unworthy servant who kidnapped him and the noble servant he has become. The piety or gratitude the Swineherd shows Odysseus’ family is remarkable given the opportunities he has for bitterness. One may argue that the Swineherd shows the arete or excellence of a simple life—the excellence of a servant, as Penelope shows the excellence of a wife. One should return to the Swineherd’s epithet, the “foreman of men,” and discern whether Homer has placed here a second meaning: a man who is the best of men.[1]
[1] We are thankful to Alec Bianco for raising many of these questions and exploring the richness of the Swineherd. Be sure to check out the podcast on Book 15 for further discussions.
Dcn. Harrison Garlick and Adam Minihan are joined by Alec Bianco of the Circe Institute to discuss Book Fourteen of the Odyssey: The Loyal Swineherd.
Check out thegreatbookspodcast.com for more!
From our guide:
77. What happens in book fourteen?
Odysseus, disguised as an old beggar, makes his way to the home of his loyal swineherd, Eumaeus (14.32). Odysseus is welcomed warmly, as the swineherd reiterates that “every stranger and beggar comes from Zeus” (14.66). The swineherd shows great affection for his king that sailed away for Troy, but believes he is now most likely dead (14.155). Odysseus the beggar swears by the “table of hospitality” of the swineherd that “Odysseus will return” (14.189). Odysseus then fabricates a long backstory about how he was a soldier at Troy (14.270), and how he came to hear news of Odysseus’ return (14.363). The swineherd tells Odysseus the beggar to not try and “charm” him with lies (14.438). Odysseus pushes back and says the swineherd can toss him off a cliff if Odysseus does not return, but the swineherd remains skeptical (14.451). The book ends with Odysseus testing the hospitality of the swineherd, but the swineherd remains a gracious host and makes a warm bed for Odysseus by the fire (14.585).
78. What should be observed about the Swineherd?
Eumaeus is a slave and swineherd whose name means “seek after the good.” He demonstrates a remarkable fondness and loyalty toward his king, Odysseus (14.44). Notably, Homer again shifts into second person when speaking of Eumaeus, as he did for Patroclus in the Iliad (14.63). He is an exemplar of guest-friendship (14.66) and displays an intimate knowledge of his master’s goods (14.115). His epithet “foremen of men” refers to his role overseeing the swineherds, but it may also be a reflection on the quality of his character.
The Swineherd gives us an insight into how Odysseus the King treated his subjects, which raises an arguably contrast to how Odysseus treated his men on the journey home (14.159). Quite notably, the Swineherd seems to be somewhat resistant to Odysseus’ rhetoric (lies) or at least suspect of it (14.411, 438 His reply to Odysseus’ rhetoric is arguably one of the first examples of sarcasm in ancient literature (14.453). The Swineherd also displays a notable piety, as he makes three distinct pious gestures before the feast (14.479). There is always much speculation about whether the Swineherd recognizes or at least suspects Odysseus the beggar’s true identity (14.502).
Our Year with Homer continues!
In this episode, Deacon Harrison Garlick, along with guests Alan Cornett and Dr. Richard Meloche, delve into the french Dominican A.G. Sertillanges' influential book "The Intellectual Life."
They explore the significance of cultivating an intellectual life, the role of courage and discipline, and the importance of community in intellectual pursuits. The conversation emphasizes that everyone, regardless of their background or age, is called to engage in the life of the mind and that it can lead to profound personal and spiritual growth.
Main Takeways:
Join us as we explore the classic: "The Intellectual Life."
Dcn. Garlick and Adam Minihan are joined by Dr. Pavlos Papadopoulos of Wyoming Catholic College to discuss BOOK THIRTEEN of the Odyssey.
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From our guide:
73. What happens in book thirteen?
King Alcinous makes good on his promise and sends Odysseus back to Ithaca (13.108). Odysseus sleeps the whole way home (13.91), and the Phaeacians lay a sleeping Odysseus on the beach and leave (13.133). Poseidon, meanwhile, convinces Zeus to punish the Phaeacians for their hospitality and aid of Odysseus (13.142). Back in Ithaca, Odysseus awakes and fears he’s been hoodwinked by the Phaeacians and must now suffer yet another unknown island (13.227). Athena, under the guise of a shepherd boy, tells Odysseys he’s on Ithaca (13.252), and he spins for her some grand tale regarding his background (13.290). Athena reveals herself, and she and Odysseus enjoy a warm conversation about her role in bringing him back to his home (13.329). She helps him hide his treasure in a cave (13.412), and then they sit to plot the death of the suitors (13.429). The book ends with Athena telling Odysseus to go to his loyal servant, the swineherd, and she leaves for Sparta to call Telemachus home (13.449).
74. Why are the Phaeacians punished?
Poseidon tells Zeus that the Phaeacians helping Odysseus is a sign of disrespect, and that the Phaeacians should be punished (13.142). Zeus says they are in Poseidon’s power, and Poseidon plans to destroy the ship that brought Odysseus home and “pile a huge mountain” around the Phaeacian port (13.166). Zeus suggests that Poseidon wait to destroy the ship in front of the Phaeacian people (13.174), and Poseidon does just this (13.181). The Phaeacians, in turn, recall the prophecy that one day Poseidon would be angry with them for escorting men home across the sea (13.194). Homer leaves the narrative untold with King Alcinous leading his people in sacrifices to Poseidon to hopefully avoid the mountain being placed on their port (13.207).
Why does Zeus, who oversees guest-friendship, allow the Phaeacians to be punished for helping Odysseus? It should be recalled the Phaeacians are close to Poseidon, as both King Alcinous and Queen Arete are his descendants. Moreover, it should be noted that King Alcinous and the Phaeacians continued to abide by guest-friendship and assist strangers who landed on their island even when they knew about the prophecy—which may inform why King Alcinous was originally hesitant to assist Odysseus when he first fell at the knees of Queen Arete. Zeus’ suggestion that the ship be destroyed in view of the Phaeacians may be seen as an opportunity for pity and reconciliation, as it allows the Phaeacians to understand what is happening and make sacrifices to Poseidon.
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Dcn. Harrison Garlick and Adam Minihan discuss Book Twelve of the Odyssey: The Cattle of the Sun.
Check out more at thegreatbookspodcast.com.
From our guide:
68. What happens in book twelve?
Odysseus and his men return the island of Circe and bury their comrade, Elpenor, who had spoken to Odysseus from the underworld (12.10). Circe tells Odyssey—and Odysseus alone—what trials await him on his journey (12.36). First, he and his men will sail by the Sirens and their irresistible song of temptation (12.44). Next, Odysseus will have to choose between sailing through the path of unavoidable “Clashing Rocks” (12.66) or sail through a strait with two monsters. On one side, there is the six-headed horror named Scylla that will pluck men off the ship (12.94) and on the other side the whirlpool monster named Charybdis that will swallow the entire ship (12.115). Lastly, they will come to the island of the where the sun god’s cattle graze (12.137) and must not under any circumstances harm the cattle (12.148). If they can do this, they will return home, but if not, then the best that could happen is Odysseus returns home alone “all shipmates lost… a broken man” (12.153).
Odysseus tells his men about the Sirens (12.172) and Charybdis (12.239) but not Scylla (12.242). After escaping the Sirens, his men are navigating past Charybdis when Scylla snatches six of Odysseus men off his ship (12.269). Odysseus and his men land on the island of the sun god’s cattle, and Odysseus has his men swear an oath they will not harm the animals (12.328). The men, however, become stranded on the island due to unfavorable wind and begin to starve (12.350). Odysseus’ men elect to eat the sacred cattle (12.386), and, as they finally leave the island, Zeus strikes the ship with a lightning bolt (12.447). All perish save Odysseus who, clinging to debris, is swept back to Charybdis and must hang onto a fig tree to avoid being swallowed (12.466). The book ends with Odysseus drifting until he lands on the island of Calypso (12.485).
69. Who are the Sirens?
The sirens are “female creatures who had the power of drawing men to destruction by their song.”[1] Though Homer does not describe them, they were generally “represented as half-woman and half-bird”—but “in time they came increasingly to be shown as beautiful women.”[2] Odysseus follows Circe’s advice (12.53) by stuffing beeswax in the ears of his men (12.189). It is notable that Circe intuits that Odysseus will want to experience the song of the Sirens (12.55). He follows her advice and has his men tie him to the mast in order that he may hear the Sirens but not jump overboard (12.194). The episode speaks to what Odysseus’ spirit (thumos) is willing to endure for the sake of knowledge. Note the Siren’s song itself sings of being able to grant Odysseus wisdom and make him a “wiser man” (12.200).
One may also question whether Odysseus enduring the song of the Sirens prepared him at all to decline Calypso’s offer of immortality or the marriage to Nausicaa. Moreover, the episode shows a level of trust between Odysseus and his men—a trust that is arguably fracturing after the Cyclops incident and one that will be largely broken following Scylla and Charybdis. Later myths have the Sirens drowning themselves due to Odysseus’ escape.[3] The Sirens will later come to represent music, including the music of spheres as presented by Plato.[4]
70. Who are Scylla and Charybdis?
Circe warns Odysseus of the creature Scylla who she calls “a grisly monster” with “six long swaying necks” who lives on the cliffside (12.94). In some myths, Scylla was originally a beautiful woman who was turned into the grotesque monster.[5] Other myths are more specific, stating that Scylla was a beautiful sea-nymph loved by the sea-god Glaucus.[6] When Glaucus failed to attract Scylla, he turned to Circe to make him a love potion to use on Scylla; however, Circe attempted to seduce Glaucus, but Glaucus would not give up his love for Scylla.[7] Enraged at the rejection, Circe created a poison and used it on the unexpecting Scylla turning her into a hideous monster with serpentine necks and dog-like faces.[8] Thus, it is notable that Circe calls Scylla an “immortal devastation, terrible, savage, [and] wild,” if Scylla is indeed a product of Circe’s own act of cruelty and malice (12.128). Moreover, Circe speaks of Scylla’s mother: “she spawned her to scourge mankind, she can stop the monster’s attack” (12.134). One may question whether this is a reference to a distinct origin myth or a statement of irony given Circe is the mother of Scylla in monstrous form.
Charybdis is the daughter of Poseidon and Gaia who, being under the water, sucks the ocean down through a whirlpool three times a day.[9] She is opposite of Scylla in the Straits of Messina.[10] Odysseus follows Circe’s advice that it is better to lose men to Scylla than his entire ship to Charybdis (12.120). Though Odysseus does push back on a way to fight Scylla (12.123), he ultimately does not tell his men about the danger of Scylla (12.167). Notably, he does show up on deck prepared to fight Scylla (12.241), but it is to no avail.
We may note how personal Homer portrays the deaths of the sailors to Scylla. Those plucked by the monster cry out Odysseus’ name (12.269) and fling their arms toward him (12.278). Odysseus tells his audience: “Of all the pitiful things I’ve had to witness… this wrenched my heart the most” (12.282). We may question whether Odysseus tells his audience this story with such a personal veneer to better justify his decision to not inform his men, e.g., he really did care for them. The narrative arguably fractures the last bond of trust Odysseus has with his men. Notice Odysseus’ reference to the incident with the Cyclops where he states, “my presence of mind and tactics saved us all” (12.230). His revisionist history avoids that he himself put them in that situation and then caused Poseidon’s curse to fall upon them; moreover, note that in both incidents—Cyclops and Scylla—Odysseus loses six men.
[1] Companion, 525.
[2] Companion, 526.
[3] Companion, 525.
[4] Companion, 526, citing the myth of Er at the end of the Republic.
[5] Companion, 515.
[6] Hamilton, 314.
[7] Hamilton, 314.
[8] Hamilton, 315.
[9] Companion, 140.
[10] Companion, 140.
Dr. Frank Grabowski and Thomas Lackey return to discuss Book Eleven of the Odyssey with Dcn. Garlick.
Check out thegreatbookspodcast.com for more resources.
From the guide:
60. What happens in book eleven?
Odysseus and his men sail to the edge of the world into the endless darkness and the house of death (11.21). Following the ritual Circe prescribed, Odysseus fills a trench with blood, and the shades of the dead came out to meet him (11.40). Odysseus first speaks to Elpenor, his comrade who fell off the roof of Circe’s house and lays unburied back on Circe’s island (11.57). Odysseus then sees his mother, who he did not know was dead, but first speaks to Tiresias, “the famous Theban prophet” (11.100). Tiresias warns Odysseus he will come upon the cattle of the sun god, Helios, and he is not to harm them (11.123). Moreover, if Odysseus does make it home to Ithaca, he will have to leave his home again and go on a penitential journey to appease Poseidon (11.139).
Odysseus then speaks to his mother about what is happening in Ithaca (11.173). He then sees “a grand array of women,” famous women from antiquity, sent by Persephone, the queen of the underworld, to drink the blood and speak with him (11.258). Odysseus then speaks to Agamemnon (11.457); and then to Achilles (11.530); and then he tries to speak with Ajax, but Ajax refuses, “blazing with anger” at Odysseus (11.620). Odysseus then sees several figures from mythology and speaks to the hero Heracles (or Hercules) who compares his exploits to that of Odysseus (11.690). The book ends with the shades of the dead overwhelming Odysseus, and he and is men running back to the ship in terror (11.723).
61. What is notable about Odysseus’ discussion with Elpenor?
After Odysseus fills his trench with blood, the shades of the dead come out of Erebus—the “darkness” (11.41).[1] The first to speak to Odysseus is Elpenor, his comrade who died on Circe’s island (11.57). Notably, Elpenor does not have to drink the blood to speak to Odysseus (11.66). Though some interpret this scene as Odysseus not knowing that Elpenor had died, it seems clear that Odysseus and his men intentionally left Elpenor unburied (11.60); thus, Homer offers the juxtaposition of Odysseus hurrying to the house of the dead for his own sake while neglecting the rites of a dead comrade. Elpenor’s plight is reminiscent of Patroclus’ in the Iliad, where it seems he needs the rituals to find rest in the afterlife; moreover, it may be that Elpenor’s state of having a body unburied and his capacity to speak without drinking the blood are connected. Lastly, it should be noted he asks for his oar to be planted atop his tomb (11.86).
[1] Erebus (darkness) was one of the four original primordial deities to come forth from Chaos. The others were Gaia (Earth), Eros (Love), and Nyx (Night). See Companion, 139.
Dcn. Garlick flies solo to explore the depths of BOOK TEN of the Odyssey: The Bewitching Queen of Aeaea.
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From the guide:
53. What happens in book ten?
Odysseus and his men come to the floating island of King Aeolus[1] who Zeus had made the “master of all the winds” (10.24). After hosting them for a month, King Aeolus stuffed all the winds into a bag, except a favorable west wind, and gave it to Odysseus (10.29). Leaving the island, they sailed for nine days until they came so close to Ithaca they could see men “tending fires” on the shore (10.34). Odysseus’ men, however, open the bag of winds, causing a maelstrom, blowing them all the way back to King Aeolus’ island (10.66). The king rejects them as cursed by the gods (10.79), and Odysseus and his fleet sail to the island of the Laestrygonians (10.89). There, Odysseus’ entire fleet, save his own ship, is lost in a surprise attack by the man-eating inhabitants of the island (10.132).
Odysseus’ lone ship comes upon a new island, and Odysseus’ men find a hall and hear a woman singing inside (10.242). The woman is Circe, a goddess, who welcomes all the men to a feast and then changes them into pigs (10.253). Eurylochus, the only one to not go into the hall, runs back and tells Odysseus (10.269). Odysseus sets off to the hall, but along the way runs into Hermes, the messenger god, who tells him how to overcome Circe’s spells (10.305). Odysseus obeys, and Circe is made to swear an oath she will not harm Odysseus (10.380). Odysseus’ men are restored, younger and more handsome (10.436). They remain guests of Circe’s house for a year until Odysseus’ men remind him of his journey home (10.520). The book ends with Circe telling Odysseus he must travel to the house of death and speak to the prophet Tiresias (10.540).
54. What is the relationship between Odysseus and his men after the Cyclops affair?
The narrative of King Aeolus and the bag of winds reveals the lack of trust festering between Odysseus and his men. Note that Odysseus will not trust the ship to any of his crew (10.37), and the crew assumes Odysseus is withholding treasure from them (10.40). Moreover, after the loss of the fleet in the Laestrygonian cove, the spiritedness of the crew, their thumos, is broken. When Odysseus orders his men to scout the hall on what we know to be Circe’s island (10.170), the “message broke their spirits” and they weep (10.217). We see this particularly with Eurylochus, who, when reporting back to Odysseus that Circe has turned the men to pigs, pleads with Odysseus to abandon the men and leave the island (10.289). It worth noting that Odysseus himself was tempted to allow his spirit to break, as after the incident with the winds he had to overcome the temptation of suicide (10.55).
Later, when Odysseus has made a truce with Circe, Eurylochus has a “mutinous outburst” in which he states that Odysseus is to blame for the men eaten by the Cyclops (10.480). It makes explicit the tension throughout book ten. Odysseus is inclined to kill the man but is tempered by his men (10.483). The antagonisms between Odysseus and his remaining crew will continue as a predominant theme throughout the end of Odysseus’ recounting of his story in book twelve.
[1] King Aeolus was “a mortal, king of the floating island of Aeolia and friend of the gods, to whom Zeus gave the custodianship of the winds.” In later mythology, “he was thought of as the god of the winds.” Companion, 14.
Dcn. Garlick and Adam Minihan discuss BOOK NINE of the Odyssey: Odysseus and the Cyclops. Odysseus finally gives his name and starts to tell his story.
Book Nine is one of the most important books in the Odyssey.
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From the guide:
48. What happens in book nine?
The guest of good King Alcinous finally declares, “I am Odysseus” (9.21), and he begins to tell his story (9.33). After Troy, Odysseus and the ships under his command raided a city on the island of Ismarus (9.44) where, the next morning, he lost men to a counterattack by the islanders (8.69). Next, Zeus hit Odysseus’ fleet with a storm, a “demonic gale” (9.76), and then, when free of the storm, his fleet was again taken off course by a rip-tide (9.89) that brought them to the land of the “Lotus-eaters” (9.94). Having saved his crew, Odysseus and his men come to a lush, uninhabited island (9.129), and across the strait see an island with signs of habitation (9.185). Odysseus and his men go to the island only to end up trapped in a cave with a cyclops (9.271). Though they plead for protection as guests under Zeus, Homer tells us: the cyclops grabbed two men, beat them against the ground “their brains gushed out all over, soaked the floor—and ripp[ed] them limb from limb to fix his meal” (9.324). He washes down the human flesh with raw milk (9.334).
Odysseus and his men cannot escape the cave due to the enormous stone blocking the entrance, and they cannot kill the cyclops in his sleep for the same reason—they would be trapped in the cave. In the morning, the cyclops bolts down two more men (9.348) and leaves to tend his herds. Odysseus concocts a plan to escape (9.370). Upon his return, the cyclops devours two more of Odysseus’ men, and Odysseus offers the cyclops a strong wine to wash down the “banquet of human flesh” (9.389). The cyclops asks Odysseus’ his name, and Odysseus tells him his name is “Nobody” (9.410). With the cyclops drunk, Odysseus and his men ram a stake into the cyclops’ eye blinding him (9.428). Odysseus and his men escape the cave, but Odysseus tells the cyclops his name (9.560). The book ends with the cyclops asking his father, Poseidon, to curse Odysseus’ journey home and to “let him find a world of pain at home” (9.595).
This week Dcn. Harrison Garlick and Mr. Eli Stone, formerly of the TU Great Books Honors College and now teaching at a classical school, discuss Book VIII of the Odyssey: A Day for Songs and Contests.
We have a 50+ page guide to the Odyssey.
Visit thegreatbookspodcast.com for more resources.
From the guide:
42. What happens in book eight?
King Alcinous and Odysseus go to the meeting grounds, as Athena whips up the curiosity of the islanders to come and see the stranger who “looks like a deathless god” (8.16). King Alcinous, still not knowing the identity of his guest, calls for the Phaeacians to prepare a ship to take the stranger home (8.39), and he calls for a feast, a “hero’s welcome” (8.49). As they feast, the bard sings the ballad of “The Strife between Odysseus and Achilles,” a tale from Troy, and Odysseus quietly weeps—unnoticed by all save King Alcinous (8.111). King Alcinous then calls for games, and the young men gather to race, wrestle, box, and throw a discus (8.140). A man named “Broadsea” goads Odysseus into competing, and Odysseus, in his anger, throws a heavy discus farther than any of them (8.116). As a good host, King Alcinous deescalates the situation (8.267), and calls for the Phaeacians to dance (8.284).
The bard returns and sings of the story of Aphrodite’s adultery against Hephaestus (8.301). King Alcinous calls for parting gifts for Odysseus, and Broadsea gives the King of Ithaca a bronze sword in amends for his disrespect (8.441). Another feast is held, and Odysseus asks the bard to sing of the wooden horse at Troy (8.552). Odysseus again weeps quietly (8.586), and King Alcinous again notices (8.599). The book ends with the King finally asking Odysseus to reveal his name and his homeland (8.618).[1]
43. Why does Homer include the myth of Aphrodite’s adultery?
Homer dedicates over one hundred lines of poetry to tell the story of “The Love of Ares and Aphrodite Crowned with Flowers” (8.301). First, one may note a shift in the mythology, as Hephaestus was married to a Grace in the Iliad and is now married to Aphrodite in the Odyssey. A myth about adultery in the Odyssey recalls several narratives: the story of Clytemnestra, (Agamemnon’s wife), the narrative of Odysseus with Calypso, and the suitors pursuing Penelope.
In a subtle manner, Homer is likely presenting Hephaestus as Odysseus. Notice that that Odysseus mentions his legs are in poor shape, and he cannot race against the Phaeacians (8.260). Odysseus’ poor legs are analogous to the crippled legs of Hephaestus; moreover, Hephaestus is compared to Ares who has “racer’s legs,” like the Phaeacians (8.352). Homer describes Hephaestus overcoming Ares as the “slow outstrips the swift” (8.372) and “the cripple wins by craft” (8.375). If one takes Aphrodite to be Penelope, the myth is a warning to Odysseus that he will overcome the suitors not by swiftness but by craft. Similarly, one could read Aphrodite as Nausicaa and Ares as the Phaeacians; thus, we return to a narrative of Nausicaa being a temptation for Odysseus—but a temptation he could indulge if done by wit and craft. The myth presents certain analogues to Odysseus’ present situation but seems to fall short of presenting a full allegory.
[1] Thank you to Mr. Eli Stone who joined us on the podcast to discuss Book 8.
This week Dcn. Garlick and Mr. Eli Stone discuss Book Seven of the Odyssey: Phaeacia’s Halls and Gardens.
Check out thegreatbookspodcast.com for more resources.
FROM THE GUIDE:
36. What happens in book seven?
Athena hides Odysseus in a mist and leads him, in the guise of a child, toward the palace (7.17). She reiterates the advice of Nausicaa by telling Odysseus to go to Queen Arete (7.61). Odysseus enters the magnificent palace and throws his arms around the queen’s knees, as Athena withdraws her mist (7.168). Odysseus pleads for mercy and then falls into the ashes underneath the hearth (7.182). All are silent until the old man Echeneus cries out for his king to welcome the stranger (7.185), and King Alcinous, spurred by his subject, welcomes Odysseus with food and drink (7.199). Without asking Odysseus’ name or where he is from, the king convenes the evening and calls for an assembly in the morning to help the stranger return home (7.221).
Queen Arete takes Odysseus to his lodgings and is the first to question him about his name and homeland—and where he received his clothes (7.272). Odysseus gives a long answer that finally lands at stating that his clothes are from Nausicaa (7.340). King Alcinous reassures Odysseus that he’ll provide a passage home—but also states he could stay and marry Nausicaa (7.353). Odysseus reiterates his desire to return home (7.379), and the book ends with Odysseus finally finding rest in the house of King Alcinous (7.394).
37. What is to be made of King Alcinous’ offer to Odysseus to marry Nausicaa?
Most notable in book seven is King Alcinous offering Nausicaa in marriage to Odysseus (7.358). The temptation of Nausicaa becomes explicit (Question 33). Note that both King Alcinous and Queen Arete are descendants of Poseidon (7.65), and that the gods come to the island openly due to the people being their “close kin” (7.241).[1] In addition to its divine favor, the island enjoys advanced technology, as the dogs outside King Alcinous’ palace are automatons made by Hephaestus (7.106). The island is, in many ways, a utopia. Odysseus is being asked to restart his life amongst almost perfect mortal happiness. He would be grafted into a family of Poseidon’s mortal descendants (which bears a certain irony given Poseidon’s current wrath) and be married to a beautiful, clever princess, a young Penelope. The offer of King Alcinous is the more natural temptation than that of Calypso, because it is an offer that aligns with the nature of man and his desire for happiness.
Notably, Odysseus never seems to acknowledge the offer, but simply expresses his gratitude again for the king’s willingness to take him home (7.379). To what degree the king’s offer has affected Odysseus is a question to keep in mind throughout the rest of the Odyssey.
[1] Odyssey, 498, 508.
Dcn. Harrison Garlick and Adam Minihan are joined by Eli Stone, formerly of the TU Great Books Honors College and now with Holy Family Classical School in Tulsa, Oklahoma, to discuss BOOK SIX of the Odyssey: The Princess and the Stranger.
Check us out at thegreatbookspodcast.com.
From the guide:
32. What happens in book six?
Athena inspires Nausicaa, the daughter of King Alcinous, to go with her handmaids to the river and wash clothes (6.20). Her father grants her permission, and she takes a wagon of clothes to be washed (6.75). As she waits for the clothes to dry, she and her handmaids have a picnic out by the river (6.107). With a little influence from Athena, Odysseus awakes to the sound of the girls playing with a ball (6.130). Odysseus emerges naked, covering himself with a “leafy branch” (6.140)—“a terrible sight, all crusted, caked with brine” (6.151). All the women scatter save Nausicaa in whom Athena has planted courage (6.153). Odysseus tells the princess of his plight (6.163), and she welcomes him as a stranger sent from Zeus (6.227). To avoid scandal, Nausicaa instructs Odysseus on how to enter the city alone, find the queen, and grasp her knees (6.313). The books ends with Nausicaa leaving Odysseus in a sacred grove, and Odysseus praying to Athena (6.352).[1]
33. Is Nausicaa another temptation for Odysseus, like Calypso?
The desire of Nausicaa to be married is a predominate theme in book six and seven. We see Athena state her marriage is “not far off” (6.30); we see Nausicaa be too shy to express her desire for marriage to her father (6.74), but her father sees through his daughter’s coyness and confirms his supports her, i.e., “I won’t deny you anything” (6.77); and we see Nausicaa, after seeing Odysseus glorified by Athena, say: “if only a man like that were called my husband” (6.270). Moreover, the princess is “still a virgin, unwed” (6.121) and compared to the virgin-goddess Artemis (6.113, 165). Her intuition and political savvy are displayed in the narrative of avoiding scandal and how to seek mercy from the queen (6.313). She is arguably presented as a young Penelope: beautiful and clever. The concern is that whereas Calypso represented an unnatural temptation (Question 29), Nausicaa will represent a very natural one for Odysseus.
One may note that naked Odysseus emerging to speak to the young girls is presented in predatory language, e.g., “as a mountain lion exultant in his power…” hungry and stalking sheep (6.143). The opening predatory metaphor seemingly stands in contrast with Odysseus’ restraint to not run and hug the knees of Nausicaa (6.161). The main principle of his opening speech to Nausicaa is presented in his earlier internal dialogue of whether the island inhabitants are savages or civilized persons (6.132). Guest-friendship is the sign and standard for civilization (6.133). Odysseus arguably mentions Artemis (6.165), Apollo’s altar in Delos (6.178), the custom of grasping by the knees (6.185), and the need for he, as a stranger, to be welcomed (6.193) to see if she is civilized. Moreover, it also reveals that Odysseus—the strange man emerging from the bushes—is civilized himself.[2] If guest-friendship is the standard for civilization (6.133), then it is one Nausicaa responds to well in both speech and practice (6.227).
Those who see Nausicaa as a temptation, point to Odysseus’ flattery of her: “I have never laid eyes on anyone like you” (6.175). As with most Odyssean rhetoric, one may debate to what degree this statement reflects his interior disposition as opposed to simply a statement intended to cause an effect in his listener. The dialogue between Odysseus and Nausicaa has him comparing her to a god, but later she believes he looks like a god (6.269). Moreover, Nausicaa subtlety tells Odysseus that she thinks he’s handsome and available for marriage (6.303). There is much in book six to suggest that marriage to Nausicaa will be the next major temptation of Odysseus.
[1] Thank you to Mr. Eli Stone who joined us on Ascend: The Great Books Podcast to discuss and lead us through books six and seven.
[2] On the podcast, Mr. Eli Stone submitted the theory that Odysseus mentions Artemis explicitly to imply that he is safe and will not harm Nausicaa. In addition to being one of the virgin-goddesses, Artemis punished men severely for even seeing her naked much less touching her. As such, by Odysseys comparing Nausicaa to Artemis, he’s communicating that he, as a rational man, would never dare to touch her.
Dcn. Harrison Garlick and Adam Minihan are joined by Evan Amato of Rewire the West to discuss Book Five of Odyssey: Odysseus escapes Calypso's Island.
Check out thegreatbookspodcast.com for a written guide to the Odyssey.
A couple questions from the guide:
28. What happens in book five?
King Odysseus is trapped on Calypso’s island. Zeus, at Athena’s pleading, agrees to two proposals: first, Odysseus may leave the captivity of Calypso; and second, Athena may help Telemachus escape the trap set by the suitors (5.24). Hermes, the messenger god, goes and tells Calypso that it is Zeus’ will that Odysseus be set free upon a make-shift raft, and Calypso, though upset, acquiesces to the will of Zeus (5.125, 176).[1] She tells Odysseus he may leave, and he has her promise she is not plotting some new harm against him (5.202). After four days of working on the raft, Odysseus sets sail on the fifth with gifts and provisions from Calypso (5.288).
Poseidon, who is returning from Ethiopia, sees Odysseus has left the island and, “it made his fury boil even more” (5.313). Poseidon sends a storm to sink Odysseus (5.321). As he’s being battered by the waves, a goddess of the sea, Ino, pities Odysseus, and tells him to strip off his clothes, tie her scarf around his waist, and swim for land (5.377). Poseidon smashes the raft to pieces (5.403), and Odysseus, with the help of Athena, makes it to the shore (5.471). The book ends with Odysseus falling asleep beneath two olive trees (5.544).[2]
29. Why does Odysseus refuse Calypso’s offer of immortality?
Calypso tells Hermes that she has offered immortality to Odysseus (5.151), and again makes the offer after Odysseus knows he’s free to leave the island (5.230). How can Odysseus refuse immortality? How can a mortal man refuse an immortal life with a beautiful goddess? A subtle clue is found in the opening of book five. It does not repeat the typical line of Dawn and her rosy fingers but instead invokes Dawn’s lover, Tithonus (5.01).[3] It is said that Dawn (Eos) asked Zeus to make her mortal lover, Tithonus, immortal, and Zeus agreed—but Zeus did not grant Tithonus immortal youth. Thus, Tithonus, immortal, continued to age until he “became an old shriveled creature little more than a voice.”[4] Tithonus attempts to graft onto human nature something that is unnatural to it: immortality. As Dr. Patrick Deneen observes: “Tithonus accepts what is unacceptable for mortals to attain, but which is nevertheless clearly tempting to normal mortal desires.”[5]
One aspect of the unnaturalness of immortality in man is the necessity for the possibility of death to achieve glory (kleos). It is in facing death that man achieves renown. Without death, what is man? Furthermore, observe how those who are without death, the immortal gods, are presented: imploded personalities, obsessive, petty, and narcissistic. The sinews between man, death, and glory are one to observe, as the story of Odysseus continues to develop.
Similarly to Tithonus, we should observe Homer references the goddess Ino who was “a mortal woman once” (5.367). Ino, the sister of Semele, was driven mad by Hera, and she jumped into the sea with her son in her arms. She was transformed by Zeus into the sea goddess Learchos and her son the sea god Palaemon.[6] Here, we may observe on a preliminary level, that Ino’s transformation to the divine is tethered to two things unnatural to man: madness and suicide. Moreover, it is unclear that Ino made any intentional decision to become divine.
If we accept the premise that immortality is unnatural to man, Odysseus is then right in rejecting Calypso’s offer, but we are still left to discern how Odysseus can reject what is so tempting to mortals. Knowing what one ought to do and doing it are distinct. Homer presents this as a mystery to unravel, as we are introduced to Odysseus years after he’s left Troy. We are not told yet what experiences he underwent prior to being captive on Calypso’s island that may have helped form him to withstand such a temptation.[7]
Notes:
[1] Hermes presumably tells Calypso of Zeus’ will that Odysseus be sent away on a make-shift raft (5.27), because Calypso does so (5.176) without Homer recording any explicit line to that effect from Hermes.
[2] Thank you to Evan of Rewire the West who joined us to discuss book five.
[3] Deneen, 44-45.
[4] Companion, 572-73l Deneen, 44-45.
[5] Deneen, 44.
[6] Companion, 314, 208.
[7] Deneen, 41-45.
This week Adam Minihan returns to discuss Book Four of the Odyssey with Father Bonaventure, OP - a Dominican Friar of the Province of St. Joseph.
The out our website for a 50+ page guide to the Odyssey.
23. What happens in book four?
Telemachus arrives in Sparta to find King Menelaus hosting a “double-wedding feast;” as Menelaus’ daughter is marrying the son of Achilles, and Menelaus’ son is marrying a girl from Sparta (4.04). Telemachus and Nestor’s son, Pisistratus, are received warmly (4.68). Though a gracious host, Menelaus still mourns for his brother, Agamemnon (4.103), and for all the men lost in the Trojan war, especially Odysseus (4.120). Menelaus and Helen recognize Telemachus by his likeness to his father (4.131, 158).
The next day, Menelaus tells Telemachus of his journey home from Troy (4.391). He and his men were stuck on the island of Pharos (4.396). After wrestling Proteus, the Old Man of the Sea, he is told he failed to offer sacrifices to the deathless gods before leaving Troy (4.530); and now for penance, he must return to Egypt and make a “splendid sacrifice” (4.535). Menelaus asks about the fate of his comrades, and Proteus tells him the stories of little Ajax, Agamemnon, and Odysseus—the last of which is held captive by the sea nymph Calypso (4.627). Menelaus did as the Old Man of the Sea said, and he then returned home to Sparta (4.657).
The narrative shifts to Queen Penelope in Ithaca (4.703). The suitors, led by Antinous, discover Telemachus has taken a ship to Pylos (4.711), and they elect to send out their own ship to ambush him (4.753). Penelope is told Telemachus is gone and that the suitors plan to murder him (4.784). Eurycleia, the old nurse, tells Penelope she helped Telemachus prepare for his departure, and advises the queen to pray to Athena (4.836). Penelope prays to Athena, and Athena sends a phantom of Penelope’s sister to reassure the queen Telemachus is safe (4.930). The book ends with the suitors setting sail to ambush Telemachus (4.947).
24. What do we observe about the character of Menelaus?
Notice that Menelaus agrees to welcome Telemachus and Pisistratus by first recalling all the hospitality he received on his journey home (4.38). He displays a certain gratitude and dare we say humility in passing on what he has received. A similar disposition is found in his piety of not wanting to be compared to Zeus (4.87). The pious but somber Menelaus declares: “So I rule all this wealth with no great joy,” as he recalls the death of his brother, Agamemnon (4.103). Moreover, he seems to lament the entire Trojan war, stating he would have rather stayed home with the wealth he had and the friends he lost at Troy—note, however, the implications of this statement regarding his wife, Helen (4.108).
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Dcn. Harrison Garlick, Dr. Frank Grabowski, and Mr. Thomas Lackey discuss Book Three of the Odyssey: KING NESTOR REMEMBERS.
The lovable old man from the Iliad returns to help set Telemachus on his way.
Check out Dcn. Garlick's 50+ page guide to the Odyssey.
What happens in book three?
Telemachus arrives in Pylos to find King Nestor sacrificing eighty-one bulls to Poseidon and hosting a feast for forty-five hundred people (3.06). Athena, under the guise of Mentor, encourages Telemachus to speak to Nestor (3.16). Telemachus and Athena are welcomed warmly by Nestor’s son (3.40), and, after their meal, Nestor asks them who they are (3.77). Telemachus asks Nestor for news of his father, Odysseus (3.91), and Nestor recalls the “living hell” of Troy (3.113). Nestor tells Telemachus of the disaster that was the Achaean army returning home from Troy (3.147). Telemachus tells Nestor of the plight of the suitors (3.228), and Nestor tells Telemachus of Athena’s favor for his father, Odysseus—as Athena sits there in the guise of Mentor (3.247). Telemachus asks Nestor to tell the story of how Agamemnon died (3.282), and Nestor tells of how Agamemnon was betrayed by his wife and murdered (3.345).
As the conversation turned to returning to Nestor’s halls, Athena, disguised as Mentor, transformed into an eagle and flew away (3.415). Nestor explains to Telemachus what favor he must have with the goddess (3.420) and prepares a splendid sacrifice to Athena in her honor (3.429). He has the heifer’s horns sheathed in gold (3.488), and Athena returns pleased with this sacrifice (3.485). The book ends with them obeying Athena’s orders by preparing a chariot to take Telemachus to Menelaus in Sparta (3.335).
Join us as we read the Odyssey in this YEAR OF HOMER.
Dcn. Garlick, Dr. Frank Grabowski, and Mr. Thomas Lackey come together to discuss Book Two of the Odyssey: Telemachus sets sail.
Check out our website for 60+ page reader's guide to the Odyssey.
What happens in book two?
Inspired by Athena, Telemachus addresses the assembly of Ithaca (2.25) and condemns the suitors and invokes the gods against them (2.70). In response, Antinous, a suitor, blames Telemachus’ mother, Penelope, the “matchless queen of cunning” (2.95) for refusing to return to her father’s house and letting him choose for her a new husband (2.125). Thus, the suitors will “devour” Telemachus’ house until a new husband for Penelope is chosen (2.136). Telemachus refuses to tell his mother to return to her father’s house (5.154) and announces he is leaving for Sparta and Pylos to seek news of his father (2.238). Athena, takes on the guise of Mentor—the man Odysseus left in charge of his affairs (2.250)—and reassures him in his mission (2.302). Telemachus has his nurse prepare provisions for his journey and swears her to secrecy (2.384). The book ends with Telemachus setting sail with his crew and pouring out libations to Athena, the goddess with the “flashing sea-gray eyes” (2.472).
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Dcn. Harrison Garlick and Adam Minihan are joined by Jason Craig of Sword and Spade magazine to discuss the theme of fatherhood in the Odyssey.
Check out Sword and Spade magazine.
Check out our 60+ page guide to the Odyssey.
Join us as we read the Odyssey as part of our Year of Homer!
WE ARE STARTING THE ODYSSEY! Dcn. Harrison Garlick is joined by Dr. Frank Grabowski and Mr. Thomas Lackey to discuss Book One of the Odyssey.
Check out our website - thegreatbookspodcast.com - for a written guide to the Odyssey and other resources.
Questions discussed:
Join us as we continue in our YEAR OF HOMER.
Dcn. Harrison Garlick welcomes Dr. Patrick Deneen, Dr. Chad Pecknold, and Dr. Richard Meloche to introduce Homer's Odyssey.
Dr. Patrick Deneen is a Professor of Political Science at Notre Dame. He is the author of many books and articles including Why Liberalism Failed (2018). His teaching and writing interests focus on the history of political thought, American political thought, liberalism, conservatism, and constitutionalism.
Dr. Chad Pecknold, Associate Professor of Systematic Theology at the Catholic University of America. “In political theology, Pecknold is principally concerned with close readings of Augustine’s masterwork, The City of God, as a fundamental and transcendent vision that inspires, and has the power to critique and correct, the dynamics of Western civilization.”
Dr. Richard Meloche, President of the Alcuin Institute for Catholic Culture, a ministry of the Roman Catholic Diocese of Tulsa and a colleague of Dcn. Garlick's at the Chancery.
INTRODUCTION TO THE ODYSSEY
The group discusses the canon of the great books, why we should read Homer and his Odyssey, the role of the great books in theological formation, and key introductory themes in Homer's Odyssey.
Against Great Books by Deneen: https://www.firstthings.com/article/2013/01/against-great-books
The Odyssey of Political Theory by Deneen: https://www.amazon.com/Odyssey-Political-Theory-Politics-Departure/dp/0847696235?ccs_id=073621fb-e234-4289-9205-bc6fab3f444a
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Dcn. Harrison Garlick and Adam Minihan discuss the events BETWEEN the Iliad and the Odyssey.
There is a notable gap between the Iliad and the Odyssey. As the Odyssey picks up after the fall of Troy, tradition turns to authors such as the Greek poet Sophocles, the Greek poet Euripides, and the Roman poet Virgil to tell the story of how Troy fell. The following questions, while tracking the fates of specific individuals, tell the narrative that occurs between the Iliad and the Odyssey. One may make a distinction between the Homeric tradition and the Greek tradition at large.
What does this episode cover?
What happens to Achilles?
What happens to Giant Ajax?
What happens to Paris?
What is the story of the Trojan Horse?
How does Troy fall?
What happens to Astyanax, Hector's son?
We start reading the Odyssey next! Join us!
Dcn. Harrison Garlick and Adam Minihan discuss the FINAL book of the Iliad: Book 24 - Achilles and Priam.
Check out our 65-page guide to the Iliad!
I have put to my lips the hands of the man who killed my son.
Priam to Achilles (24.591)
103. What happens in book twenty-four?
The funeral games have ended, and Achilles, who still mourns for Patroclus, drags Hector’s body behind his chariot around Patroclus’ tomb (24.19). Twelve days after the death of Hector, Apollo pleads with the gods to save the body of the Trojan prince (24.39). In response, Zeus declares that “Achilles must receive a ransom from King Priam, Achilles must give Hector’s body back” (24.94). Zeus tells Thetis his plan, and Thetis informs her son (24.127). Zeus sends Iris to Troy to tell King Priam, who she finds smeared in dung and mourning his son, that the Father of gods and men commands him to ransom his son from Achilles (24.204). Priam, despite the protests of his wife (24.238), obeys the goddess and prepares to leave (24.259). Priam leaves Troy on his chariot alongside a wagon of treasure (24.382). On the plains of Troy, Priam is met by Hermes, under the guise of a Myrmidon, who guides him into the Achaean camp (24.526). Hermes reveals himself to Priam and tells the king of Troy to go into Achilles’ tent and hug his knees (24.546).
Priam does as he is told, and, hugging the knees of Achilles, kisses “his hands, those terrible man-killing hands that slaughtered Priam’s many sons in battle” (24.562). Priam exhorts Achilles to remember his own father, Peleus, and Achilles thinks of his father and weeps with Priam (24.595). Priam asks for the body of Hector (24.650), and though Achilles warns Priam not to tempt his rage (24.667), Achilles has the body of Hector washed and carries it to the wagon himself (24.691). Achilles promises King Priam that the Achaeans will wait twelve days before restarting the war to allow Troy to bury Prince Hector (24.787). Priam sleeps on the porch outside the lodge of Achilles, and Hermes wakes him up to send him home before Agamemnon finds him (24.808). Priam returns home to Troy, and Troy is “plunged… into uncontrollable grief” (24.831). For nine days, the Trojans “hauled in boundless stores of timber” for the funeral pyre of Hector (24.921). On the tenth day, they set the body of Hector “aloft the pyre’s crest, [and] flung a torch and set it all aflame” (24.924). The next day, the Trojans bury Hector’s bones in a golden chest and end the rites with a “splendid funeral feast” (24.942). And thus, Homer ends the Iliad with the burial of “Hector breaker of horses” (24.944).
104. What is the backstory of why Hera and Athena hate Troy?
In the final book of the Iliad, Homer makes reference to the narratives that led to the Trojan war. Hera states that she “brought up” Thetis and gave her in marriage to a mortal, King Peleus (24.72). The story goes that Zeus loved Thetis, but the Titan Prometheus told him that Thetis was destined to bear a son greater than his father.[1] As such, Zeus gave Thetis to Peleus, a mortal, so the son would also be mortal.[2] Homer’s reference of Hera’s role in the Iliad implies she had some part in this scheme as well. Peleus had to wrestle the immortal sea nymph, Thetis, as she changed shapes to win her heart.[3] He was successful, and the gods threw a grand marriage for King Peleus and the immortal Thetis.
All the gods were invited to the wedding except for the goddess Discord or Eris.[4] Discord arrived at the wedding and tossed in a golden apple for “the most beautiful” goddess.[5] Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite all claimed the prize. As Hamilton notes, “They asked Zeus to judge between them, but very wisely he refused to have anything to do with the matter.”[6] Instead, Zeus recommends the goddesses present themselves to Paris, the Trojan prince, who is “an excellent judge of beauty.”[7] Paris, however, was in exile from Troy, because Priam received a prophecy that Paris would “be the ruin of his country.”[8] The goddesses presented themselves to Paris and offered him gifts (or bribes): “Hera promised to make him Lord of Europe and Asia; Athena, that he would lead the Trojans against the Greeks and lay Greece in ruins; [and] Aphrodite, that the fairest woman in all the world should be his.”[9] Paris awarded the golden apple to Aphrodite who, in turn, offered him Helen of Sparta—who already happened to be married to the King of Sparta, Menelaus.
Moreover, it is notable that Paris was already living with the beautiful nymph Oenone by Mount Ida outside of Troy.[10] She loved him without knowing he was a prince of Troy.[11] He abandoned her, even after she foretold to him what destruction awaited if he sailed to Sparta for Helen.[12] It is said she still promised to heal him if he were to be wounded in the upcoming war, but when the time came for her to help Paris, she refused—still upset about his betrayal.[13] Paris succumbed to his injuries and died; and Oenone, in her grief, hanged herself.[14]
Next week we'll discuss what happens AFTER the Iliad but BEFORE the Odyssey.
Then we'll start the Odyssey!
[1] Companion, 429.
[2] Companion, 429.
[3] Companion, 429.
[4] Companion, 422; Hamilton, 198.
[5] Companion, 422.
[6] Hamilton, 198.
[7] Hamilton, 198.
[8] Hamilton, 198.
[9] Hamilton, 198; Companion, 422.
[10] Companion, 406.
[11] Companion, 406.
[12] Companion, 406.
[13] Companion, 406.
[14] Companion, 406.
Dcn. Harrison Garlick and Adam Minihan discuss Book 23 of the Iliad: The Funeral Games.
Check out this section of our guide to the Iliad!
Sleeping, Achilles? You’ve forgotten me, my friend. You never neglected me in life, only now in death. Bury me, quickly—let me pass the Gates of Hades.
Patroclus (23.81)
100. What happened in book twenty-three?
Now back at the Achaean camp, Achilles leads his Myrmidons in mourning around the body of Patroclus (23.13). That night, as Achilles lay by the shoreline, the ghost of Patroclus appears to him (23.76). Patroclus states: “Sleeping Achilles? You’ve forgotten me, my friend… bury me, quickly—let me pass the gates of Hades” (23.81). For as Patroclus further explains, he is not permitted to cross the river Styx until he has received his funeral rites (23.86).[1] Finally, Patroclus requests that his bones and the bones of Achilles be placed in a single urn and buried together (23.100). The next morning, Achilles has a pyre built for Patroclus (23.188). Achilles slaughters sheep, cattle, stallions, and two of Patroclus’ dogs and places them all on the pyre with Patroclus (23.190). He then slaughters a dozen young Trojans, as sacrifices to lay alongside Patroclus on his pyre (23.200). The pyre is lit and, after praying to two of the gods of the winds, it burns well (23.221). Meanwhile, Homer tells us that Apollo and Aphrodite are protecting the body of Hector from harm and decay (23.212).
Achilles tends to the pyre all night until “sleep overwhelms him” (23.265). Achilles awakes and tells the Achaeans to gather the bones of Patroclus and place them into a golden urn; then, the urn will be placed in a small barrow until Achilles dies, then a large barrow will be built for the two of them (23.281). Achilles then announces there will be “funeral games” (23.298), which will consist of a chariot race, boxing, wrestling, a footrace, a duel in battle gear, shot put, archery, and spear throwing. The culture of competition demonstrated in these funeral games would eventually give rise to the Olympics.[2]
101. Who won the funeral games?
The winners of the chariot race were in order: Diomedes, Antilochus, Menelaus, Meriones, and Eumelus (23.572). Eumelus received a consolation prize from Achilles (23.621). Menelaus accuses Antilochus of a foul, Antilochus concedes to him; yet Menelaus’ anger relents, and the Spartan king gives the second prize, the mare, back to Antilochus (23.680). Achilles gives the original fifth place prize to Nestor as a reminder of Patroclus (23.689). Epeus defeats Euryalus in a boxing match (23.769). Giant Ajax and Odysseus wrestle to a stalemate (23.818). Odysseus, with the help of Athena, wins the footrace (23.864). In the duel in battle gear, Giant Ajax goes against Diomedes, but the friends of Giant Ajax call for it to stop (23.913). Achilles then awards a sword to Diomedes as the winner (23.915). In shot put, Polypoetes takes the prize (23.939). Meriones, with the blessing of Apollo, defeats Teucer in archery (23.977). Lastly, Agamemnon wins the spear throwing contest by default due to his station as the high king (23.989).
102. What else should we observe in book twenty-three?
The apparition of Patroclus reveals the religious understanding that a body denied its funeral rites condemns the soul to wander in the afterlife unable to cross the river Styx (23.81). It further illuminates the spiritual cruelty Achilles inflicts upon the Trojans in the river Xanthus in book twenty-two and his present cruelty to Hector. We also see an Achilles who is now deferential to Agamemnon and his role as high king (23.179, 986). The rage of Achilles—and arguably his inhuman arc toward deification—culminates in human sacrifice (23.199). It also recalls the story of Agamemnon and his daughter. It is almost comical how the gods must also interfere with the funeral games (23.432, 859, 965), but, on the other hand, piety is rewarded even in the small things. Iron again makes an appearance in the Iliad this time as a prize (23.917).
[1] Fagles, 632.
[2] Fagles, 57.
WE'LL BE READING THE ODYSSEY NEXT IN A FEW WEEKS!
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Dcn. Harrison Garlick and Adam Minihan discuss Book 22 on the Death of Hector.
“There are no binding oaths between men and lions—wolves and lambs can enjoy no meeting of the minds—they are all bent on hating each other to death.”
Achilles (22.310).
97. What happens in book twenty-two?
The Trojans scurry back into the city like “panicked fawns,” while Hector remains outside the walls (22.05). Apollo, who had taken the form of a Trojan soldier to make Achilles chase him, reveals his trickery to Achilles (22.09)—and Achilles turns back to the city (22.26). Despite the pleas of Priam (22.31) and Hecuba (22.93), Hector remains outside the walls “nursing his quenchless fury” (22.115). As Achilles approaches, Hector’s courage fails, and he begins to run around the walls of Troy with Achilles in pursuit (22.163). Zeus’ “heart grieves for Hector,” (22.202), but he gives permission to Athena to do as she wills (22.220). Hector tries to enter the city, but Achilles thwarts him (22.234). Achilles also holds back the Achaean army, now observing the chase, from intervening (22.245). Zeus once again holds out his golden scales, and fate elects that it is time for Hector to die (22.249).
Athena takes on the form of Deiphobus, brother of Hector, and convinces Hector to stand together and fight Achilles (22.271). Hector faces Achilles and tries to make a pact that the victor will not mutilate the corpse of the fallen but give it to his people for burial (22.301). Achilles rejects this offer, stating: “There are no binding oaths between men and lions—wolves and lambs can enjoy no meeting of the minds—they are all bent on hating each other to death” (22.310). Hector and Achilles clash in combat, and Hector calls to his brother, Deiphobus, for help—but there is no answer (22.347). Hector realizes the gods have tricked him and that his time has come (22.350). He elects to die in glory, and he charges Achilles (22.359). Achilles strikes down Hector and tells him: “The dogs and birds will maul you” (22.395). Hector pleads to be given to his people, but Achilles rejects him saying: “My fury would drive me now to hack your flesh away and eat you raw” (22.408). Hector prophesies that “Paris and Lord Apollo” will strike down Achilles outside of Troy (22.423). Hector dies (22.425). The Achaeans all stab his body (22.437), and Achilles drags it behind his chariot (22.466). Priam and Hecuba cry out for their son (22.478), and Andromache “bursts out in grief” (22.560). The book ends with Andromache lamenting the impending fate of her son, Astyanax, the little “Lord of the City” (22.569).
98. What structure does piety give the death of Hector?
Previously, Hector’s return to Troy provided an insight into the ancient threefold notion of piety: gratitude toward the gods, the city, and the family. It is a gratitude that precipitates a sense of duty. The threefold notion of piety—which is in a hierarchal order—appears to provide a certain infrastructure (and tension) to the narrative around Hector’s death. For example, Hector disregards the appeals of his parents, Priam (22.32) and Hecuba (22.93), to retreat to the walls of Troy presumably due to his duty to defend Troy (22.129). Hector’s piety toward the gods is praised by Zeus in the same conversation in which the son of Cronus orchestrates his death (22.129). It is notable the deception of Hector comes through his comradery toward another soldier of Troy and a familial relation, his brother (22.270). It further raises the question that for all Hector’s piety toward Troy, no one seems interested in helping him. Hector, who is dying, attempts to plead with Achilles by appealing to his parents (22.399). Ultimately, Hector dies prior to the fall of Troy, as he wished.
Whether Hector’s piety has afforded him anything with the gods, Troy, or his family will be a question to watch throughout the end of the Iliad.
99. What else should be observed in book twenty-two?
Priam gives an insight into his own fate when Troy falls (22.73). Hector acknowledges his fatal error in not listening to Polydamas to retreat to walls of Troy after seeing Achilles, but one may question what culpability Hector bears for such a decision due to Athena’s influence (22.118). One is tempted to find meaning in Scamander (Xanthus) bring fed by both a hot and cold spring (22.177). The pattern of “three times and then on the fourth” occurs again with Hector running around the city (22.248). The golden scales of Zeus return, and again raise the question of whether Zeus is adhering to a separate nameless fate or this is simply a device to express his own will. The fatalistic quality of the Iliad is demonstrable in Achilles state that “Athena” will kill Hector (22.319), and Athena giving Achilles his spear back after he misses (22.325). One may question, as Aeneas did in a way, whether Achilles is even the best warrior in the Trojan war naturally speaking.
In the clash of Achilles and Hector, both men wear armor made by the gods (22.380), and one may imagine Hector’s view of the juxtaposition of Achilles’ rage with the imagery on his shield. Though it arguably found a boundary in attempting a feud with Xanthus, Achilles’ arguably deification through the medium of rage is displayed in his spiritual cruelty in denying Hector his last rites and in his comment on eating Hector raw (22.407). There is a certain irony in Achilles blaming Hector for the agonies he and the Achaeans had suffered (22.448). We find Andromache “working flowered braiding into a dark red folding robe,” which recalls the dark red robe of Helen that served as an analogue to the war (22.518). It is noteworthy to compare Andromache drawing a bath for Hector’s return (22.519) with her earlier singing of his funeral dirges.
Check out our website for our guide to the Iliad!
Dcn. Harrison Garlick and Adam Minihan discussed BOOK 21 of the Iliad: Achilles Fights the River.
“Come friend, you too must die. Why moan about it so? […] Even for me, I tell you, death and strong force of fate are waiting.”
Achilles (21.119).
CHECK OUT OUR GUIDE TO THE ILIAD.
93. What happens in book twenty-one?
The Trojans are in full retreat. Achilles drives half the Trojan army back toward Troy over the plains, but the other half is driven into the Xanthus river (21.09). Achilles, who leaps into the waters, slaughters Trojans until his arm grows tired—at which point he captures twelve Trojans for Patroclus’ funeral (21.30). Achilles, “insane to hack more flesh” (21.37), returns to the river and kills Lycaon, a Trojan hugging his knees for mercy (21.131). Achilles kill Asteropaeus, son of the river god Axius, who was ambidextrous and fought with two spears (21.185). The river Xanthus takes human shape, and the river-god cries out to Achilles: “All my lovely rapids are crammed with corpses now… Leave me alone… I am filled with horror!” (21.250)
Achilles agrees, but then overhears the river-god Xanthus asking Apollo to help the Trojans (21.258). Achilles plunges into the “river’s heart” to war against him (21.264), and Xanthus beats and batters Achilles down with roaring waves (21.281). Achilles cries out to Zeus to not let him die like some pig-boy who failed to ford the river (21.319), and Poseidon and Athena save him (21.325). Xanthus tries to attack Achilles again on the flooded corpse-ridden plains of Troy (21.370), but Hera sends Hephaestus to save him (21.377). The god of fire scorches the plains consuming the water and corpses alike (21.396). Xanthus cries out to Hera, and Hephaestus relents (21.418).
Zeus was “delighted” to see the gods in conflict (21.442). Athena once again defeats Ares (21.462) and then batters down Aphrodite when she tries to help him (21.484). Poseidon challenges Apollo, but Apollo refuses to fight (21.527). Artemis, his sister, mocks Apollo and, having caught the attention of Hera, is subsequently beaten down by Zeus’ consort (21.545). Hermes tells Leto he will not fight her and allows her to take her daughter, Artemis, up to Olympus (21.568). Apollo heads to Troy to help them not fall to the Achaeans (21.592). The book ends with Apollo saving Agenor from Achilles, but then taking on the appearance of the Trojan and leading Achilles on a chase away from Troy (21.657).
94. Is Achilles becoming more god-like?
The increasing rage of Achilles is presented as a sort of deification. We have already seen him reject mortal food only to be fed by immortal ambrosia (19.412), and end of the last book linked his rage with being like a god (20.558). Book twenty-one continues the theme of tethering Achilles’ increasing rage with becoming more god-like.[1] Notably, in his ascending rage, Achilles the mortal elects to take on a minor god, the river-god Xanthus (21.264). One is tempted here to present Achilles’ rage as something unnatural, inhuman that is repulsive particularly to a god of nature.[2] Achilles’ ascendency to godhood via his rage shows its limitations, as he is conquered by the river-god (21.308). We should note that for him to die as a “pig-boy” would be an ignoble death in contradistinction to his elected fate to win everlasting glory in Troy. Achilles is saved by Hephaestus at Hera’s command or rather the Olympian gods save Achilles from the river-god (21.430). Achilles’ god-like rage is very much an Olympian-like rage. Many of the metaphors for Achilles’ rage are thematic to fire, and here we see the god of fire ignite and consume all around him (21.396). Zeus delights in the “chaos” between the gods (21.442). Athena beats Ares (21.462), and then cruelly and somewhat thematically beats Aphrodite on her breasts (21.484).[3] Homer shows Hera flying “into a rage” (21.546) and cruelly beating Artemis (21.561). If Achilles’ ascendency to godhood is one of rage, then Homer shows the divine rage in its maturity amongst the gods.
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[1] For example, 20.21; 358.
[2] Xanthus has his own rage, a rage of Achilles clogging up his waters with corpses (21.256).
[3] The hatred for Aphrodite demonstrated by both Hera and Athena is at the heart of the entire Trojan war as explained in book twenty-four.
Dcn. Harrison Garlick interviews George of the Chivalry Guild on topics such as CS Lewis, virtue, magnanimity, meekness, and the importance of strength and prowess.
Deacon and George will also discuss his new book - "Chivalry: An Ideal Whose Time Has Come Again" - and explore the concept of noblesse oblige.
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Dcn. Harrison Garlick and Adam Minihan discuss Book 20 of the Iliad: The Olympian Gods in Arms
Check out our GUIDE TO THE ILIAD.
“Aeneas will rule the men of Troy in power—his son’s sons and the sons born in future years.”
Poseidon (20.355).
90. What happens in book twenty?
Zeus calls the gods to council and tells them that they may now aide whatever side they wish—the strict decree to not intervene is over (20.29). And why does Zeus do this? He states: “I fear [Achilles will] raze the walls against the will of fate” (20.36). As such, Hera, Athena, Poseidon, and Hermes go to the Achaeans, and Ares, Apollo, Artemis, Leto, Xanthus, and Aphrodite go to the Trojans (20.40).[1] The gods clash in an apocalyptic war (20.80). Achilles searches for Hector, but Apollo convinces Aeneas to duel him (20.99). Poseidon convinces the gods of a truce, and the immortals line the battlefield to watch the mortals wage war (20.160). After some taunting, Achilles and Aeneas meet on the battlefield (20.299). Aeneas’ spear fails to penetrate the great shield of Achilles (20.310), and the ashen spear of Achilles penetrates Aeneas’ shield but fails to hit him (20.319). Aeneas lifts a giant boulder, and we are given a future glimpse at fate: Aeneas will hit Achilles, but Achilles’ counter will slay Aeneas (20.331). Oddly, it is Poseidon, not Apollo, who takes pity on Aeneas, for Poseidon tells the gods Aeneas is “destined to survive” (20.349). Hera refuses to pity a Trojan (20.357); so, Poseidon saves Aeneas and tells him to stay away from Achilles, because “no other Achaean can bring you down in war” (20.386).
Unlike with Aeneas, Apollo advises Hector to not engage Achilles (20.428). Achilles slaughters several Trojans including Polydorus, the brother of Hector (20.476). Hector, unable to bear watching Achilles slaughter his countrymen, engages Achilles against Apollo’s command and throws his spear at him (20.479). Athena makes Hector’s spear blow back to him and land at his feet (20.500), and Apollo whisks Hector away before Achilles can kill him (20.502). More and more Trojans fall to Achilles until the young Trojan Tros falls at Achilles knees, clutching him, and begs for mercy (20.524). Achilles slits open is liver and watches his “dark blood” spill out (20.530). The book ends with Achilles raging like an “inhuman fire,” like a “frenzied god” (20.558).
91. What is the destiny of Aeneas?
In his stance against Achilles, Aeneas presents his genealogy—presumably due to Apollo’s observation that Aeneas’ patrimony is more impressive than Achilles’ (20.250, 125). We also see Poseidon tell the gods that Aeneas is “destined to survive” (20.349). Most notable, Poseidon prophesies: “Aeneas will rule the men of Troy in power—his son’s sons and the sons born in future years” (20.355). How will Aeneas rule Troy, however, if Troy is already fated to be destroyed? Aeneas is destined to be the founder of a new Troy. His genealogy shows he is from the “younger branch of the Trojan royal house (Priam, king of Troy, was the older branch.”[2] And, as Fagles notes, “Aeneas is to be the only survivor of the royal house of Troy, and here his lineage is established.”[3] After the Homeric era, there is a lost poem, the Iliupersis, that states Aeneas escaped Troy with his father and son.[4] Other stories that Aeneas’ wanderings led him to Italy “may possibly have existed in the sixth or fifth centuries.”[5] By the fourth century B.C., the legend of Aeneas as the founder of Rome matured “when it was synthesized with the chronologically difficult legend of the city’s foundation by Romulus (a descendent of Aeneas through his mother).”[6]
The narrative that Rome was the new Troy was so ingrained in the ancient peoples, that when a Greek king launched a war against Rome in 281 B.C., “he saw himself as a descendent of Achilles making war on a colony of Troy.”[7] The definitive legend of Aeneas as the founder of Rome come from the Roman poet Virgil who authored the Aeneid (19 B.C.). The story tells of Aeneas’ famous escape from Troy, his wanderings, and his eventual founding of the eternal city of Rome. It has been observed that the Roman Empire is the final revenge of Troy upon the Greeks.
92. What else happens in book twenty?
The opening of the text includes: “the Ocean stream that holds the earth in place,” which gives further insight into the significance of Ocean’s river limning Achilles’ shield (20.09). It is notable that Zeus believes he must tend to fate and be its caretaker at times, as he releases the Olympian gods to ensure Achilles does not take Troy “against the will of fate” (20.36). As if fate, on some level, must be cared for in order to properly mature. One should note that Hera gives a different reason for the gods intervening: “so Achilles might not fall at Trojan hands today” (20.148). Homer uses the three principal gods—Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades—to denote the severity of the gods warring with one another (20.68). The Trojans know the gods favor Achilles, and that the fight is not fair (20.115).
It is interesting to see what Achilles thinks would motivate a man to stand against him in battle, as he assumes Aeneas has been offered Priam’s throne or grand estates to fight him (20.207). Achilles’ shield is shown to be five plies think (and not indestructible): two outer layers of bronze, then two of tin, and a center one of gold (20.310). One is tempted to find allegorical meaning in these details. We see the return of the pattern of three assaults and then a fourth, as Achilles attempts to kill Hector under Apollo’s care (20.504).[8] The book ends lending itself to the perception that Achilles is begining a type of deification, as he is like an “inhuman fire,” a “chaos of fire,” and “like a frenzied god” (20.558).
[1] Fagles notes that Hephaestus could functionally be seen to be on the Achaean side as well. “Leto and Artemis are mother and sister of Apollo,” hence their allegiance to Troy. Xanthus is the principal river outside of Troy. Fagles, 631.
[2] Companion, 9.
[3] Fagles, 632.
[4] Companion, 9.
[5] Companion, 9.
[6] Companion, 10.
[7] Companion, 10.
[8] Cf. Patroclus’ assault on Troy and his death (Question 73).
Dcn. Harrison Garlick and Adam Minihan discuss Book 19 of the Iliad: The Champion Arms for Battle!
Achilles prepares to enter the war!
“You talk of food? I have no taste for food—what I really crave is slaughter and blood and the choking groans of men!” Achilles (19.254).
85. What happens in book nineteen?
Thetis returns to Achilles with new armor crafted by Hephaestus (19.03). Achilles lets loose his war cry, and the Achaean army gathers around him (19.47). Achilles promises to cease his rage against Agamemnon and to rejoin the war (19.63). Agamemnon, in turn, blames the gods for his madness, as they blinded him and “stole his wits” (19.162). He pledges to Achilles all the treasures Odysseus promised him (19.168). Achilles accepts Agamemnon’s non-apology and calls the Achaeans to war (19.176). Odysseus counsels to allow the men to eat and rest, and that Agamemnon do three things: give the gifts to Achilles now, swear he’s never had sex with Briseis, and host Achilles at a feast (19.204). Agamemnon agrees (19.220), and Achilles begrudgingly agrees—but swears he will neither eat nor drink until he can wage war (19.249). He famously declares: “You talk of food? I have no taste for food—what I really crave is slaughter and blood and the choking groans of men!” (19.254).
The Achaeans follow the advice of Odysseus (19.281). Achilles refuses to eat, and Zeus sends Athena to place ambrosia “deep within his chest” to give him strength (19.412). With “unbearable grief” and “bursting with rage,” Achilles prepares to fight the Trojans (19.434). The narrative ends with one of Achilles’ horses, Roan Beauty, prophesying to Achilles about his death (19.483).
86. Why does Odysseus push for the gifts to be given prior to returning to war?
In the last book, Achilles said he would “beat his anger down” and fight for the Argives (18.133). The thesis was presented, however, that it is more that Achilles shifts his rage to Hector than he truly forgives Agamemnon (Question 82). In book nineteen, we see Achilles’ anger continue fester. The more he stared at his new armor “the deeper his anger went” (19.19). To the Achaean army, Achilles largely repeats his commitment to relent in book eighteen, stating additionally, in part, “Now, by god, I call a halt to all my anger—it’s wrong to keep on raging, heart inflamed forever” (19.76). Here, he must only mean his rage against Agamemnon, for his rage and bloodlust continue to boil, as evident in his famous line: “You talk of food? I have no taste for food—what I really crave is slaughter and blood and the choking groans of men!” (19.254). By the time he arms for battle, he is again “bursting with rage” (19.434).
Odyssey’s push to address the issues between Achilles and Agamemnon prior to returning to war may be seen as a push toward true reconciliation (or, more realistically, a practical resolution). He knows, as do all the Achaeans, that Achilles’ rage makes him capricious. As such, his push to give the treasure, to give the oath about Briseis, and to feast all seemed aimed at capitalizing and securing this moment of peace and reunion. Stability between the two heroes is vital for an Achaean success. Between Achilles’ shift in rage and Agamemnon’s fatalistic non-apology, Odysseus seeks to find a reliable truce.
87. What should we make of Briseis weeping over Patroclus?
After Briseis is released by Agamemnon, she comes upon the body of Patroclus (19.333). We learn, amongst other things, that Achilles killed her husband, and that Patroclus comforted her (19.348). The nature of his comfort, however, is notable, as Patroclus promised Briseis that she would become the wife of Achilles (19.351). The revelation is notable for two primary reasons. First, one may tether this insight to Patroclus’ mission in Troy to help Achilles quell his anger. In other words, Patroclus sees marriage as a way to help his friend temper his emotions and mature. Secondly, this leads into Thetis presenting Achilles with his two fates: to return to Troy, marry, and live a long life or fight and die in Troy to gain immortal glory. The question becomes whether, in Achilles’ mind, returning home meant marrying Briseis, and whether this revelation informs, in part, his rage against Agamemnon for taking her. Moreover, the choice of Thetis becomes less a speculative consideration and more a concrete life with Briseis he is forgoing for glory. One wonders whether her return to his tent will make him rethink his decision or whether his rage over the death of Patroclus will continue to outweigh all else. Finally, we should note the irony Homer presents in Patroclus, the one who had the mission of tempering Achilles’ rage, now serving as the source of that rage—a rage that is blinding him to his potential life with Briseis.[1]
[1] The life of Briseis as a slave somewhat foreshadows the future of life of Andromache.
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Dcn. Harrison Garlick and Adam Minihan discuss Book 18 of the Iliad: The Shield of Achilles.
Arguably the MOST philosophically dense book in the entire Iliad.
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How should we interpret the shield of Achilles?
The shield of Achilles presents a commentary on the cosmos. It is a testament to the Greek belief that the world is ordered and in balance. From the heavens to human civilization to the boundaries of the known world, a certain order and intelligibility permeates reality. Reality is not chaotic. Man inhabits an ordered whole.
Homer presents the scenes on the shield starting with the center and moving outward in concentric circles toward the edge with certain circles having multiple parts. The scenes on the shield may be described as follows:
1. The earth, sky, sea, sun, and moon (18.565)
2. The constellations (18.567)
3. City at Peace: The wedding feast (18.573)
4. City at Peace: The court of justice (18.580)
5. City at War: A city under siege (18.593)
6. City at War: Raid by the besieged (18.598)
7. Ploughing the field (18.629)
8. Harvesting the field (18.639)
9. The vineyard festival (18.654)
10. The cattle under attack (18.670)
11. The flock in the meadow at peace (18.686)
12. The circle of dancing and courtship (18.690)
13. Ocean’s River (18.708)
On the shield itself, one may expect that Zeus would inhabit the center of shield rather than the heavenly bodies. The absence of Zeus at the center raises the question of the role of the gods within the cosmos. Notably, there is no ring dedicated to the Olympian gods, as one may think vital to a testament on the order of the cosmos. Moreover, the only Olympian gods that are mentioned are in the City at War. One may question whether there is a Homeric lesson embedded here on whether the gods are agents of order or chaos within the cosmic whole.
The City at Peace is characterized by love and justice. The marriage is a witness to love and binding, while the court scene is a witness to justice and resolution. Note that the City at Peace is not without conflict; rather, the City at Peace is able to resolve the conflict through justice. The City at War is an obvious contrast. The city under siege inevitably recalls the current plight of Troy. It is, as noted above, the only section that includes the gods.
The ploughing and harvesting scenes are naturally coupled. The plowmen enjoy wine as they work, and the harvesting depiction includes the presence of the king and terminates in a harvest feast (18.650). The pastoral imagery is coupled with characteristics of civilization. The vineyard scene is one of wine, music, innocence, and joviality. Though unnamed, it is all characteristic of Dionysus, the jovial wine-god. The cattle scene, however, is one marked by duty, danger, death, and violence. There is also the coupling of the domestic cattle and the wild lions. The herdsmen being unable to fend off the wild lions presents parallels to the conflict in the earlier City at War, and both scenes raise an inclination that there are analogues here to the present conflict in Troy. The conflict of the herdsmen and lions gives way to the serene meadow at peace—a possible parallel to the City at Peace. We then receive the circle of dancing, another festive scene, and one set within the courtship of young boys and girls (18.693). The human depictions on the shield of Achilles appear to begin and end with love. The rim of the shield is the rim of the known world, Ocean’s River.
There are many more questions about the shield. For example, what is Hephaestus’ intent is presenting such a narrative on the shield? Moreover, what in the character of Achilles—whose rage is the animus of the epic—corresponds to such a cosmic reflection on the order of civilization? One answer may lie in the two fates of Achilles. The shield depicts the life of peace and marriage that Achilles rejected in favor of a life of war and glory. Another question would be whether Achilles learns anything from the depiction on his shield. Does the cosmic narrative of peace and war affect his character at all? One is tempted to note that, when Achilles holds the shield, the narrative faces away from him—he is blind to it. What then does it mean for others, especially the Trojans, who can look upon both Achilles and his shield?[1]
[1] Another comparison is to the Iliad and the Odyssey; as the former is often called a book of war, while the latter is called a book of peace. Each epic, to a degree, takes up the themes of their respective cities.
Dcn. Harrison Garlick and Adam Minihan discuss Book 17 of the Iliad: Menelaus' Finest Hour.
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But grief bore down on Hector, packing his dark heart.
Homer (17.92)
75. What happens in books seventeen?
The body of Patroclus still lays on the plains outside of Troy. Menelaus, the Spartan king, slays Euphorbus, the Trojan who had speared Patroclus (17.51). Apollo spurs Hector to fight for the body of Patroclus (17.84), and Hector is able to remove Patroclus’ gear—but Ajax returns and stops him from decapitating the corpse (17.146). Glaucus, friend of the dead Sarpedon, chastises Hector for retreating from Ajax and implies that if Hector was more like Ajax, they could have saved the body of their comrade, Sarpedon (17.172). Hector retorts he is no coward, but the will of Zeus forces cowardice upon him (17.201). Hector then puts on the armor of Achilles, stripped from Patroclus, and Zeus, taking pity on Hector, grants him power and makes the armor fit well—but also states Hector will never return home again (17.230).
Hector leads the Trojans in battle for the body of Patroclus (17.263), and the Achaeans, led by giant Ajax and Menelaus, mount a defense (17.290). The Achaeans take the advantage, and Apollo spurs Aeneas to rally the Trojans (17.379), but Ajax and the Achaeans remains stalwart in their defense (17.420). Zeus shifts his favor to the Achaeans and sends Athena to rouse their fighting spirits (17.623). Apollo chastises Hector, and as Hector charges to the frontlines, Zeus releases a bolt of lightning to show he now favors the Achaeans (17.670). Giant Ajax laments: “Dear god, enough! Any idiot boy could see how Father Zeus himself supports these Trojans” (17.707). Zeus pities Ajax and thus removes his storm clouds from the battlefield and “the whole war swung into view” (17.729). Menelaus, at the suggestion of Ajax, sends Antilochus, son of Nestor and “a favorite of Achilles,” to go tell Achilles what has happened (17.776).[1] The Achaeans grab the body of Patroclus and bear him back to their ships, as the two great Aeantes hold off the Trojans (17.823, 843); until Hector and Aeneas come leading the Trojans “like a crowd of crows… screaming murder,” and the Achaeans break and flee for the ships (17.846).
76. What should we make of the “dark heart” of Hector?
In book seventeen, we are introduced to the “dark heart” of Hector (17.92). The “dark heart” is presented within the juxtaposition of Apollo spurring Hector to fight (17.84), and Hector surveying the reality of the battlefield (17.93).[2] It is a moment of “grief” for the Trojan Prince (17.92). Hector does charge the front line “loosing a savage cry, and flaring on like fire, like the god of fire” (17.96). Such a reaction to the spurring of a god seems normative in the Iliad, but what seems abnormal is the moment of grief in between. Moreover, the pattern occurs again later in which Apollo again spurs Hector, Hector bears a “black cloud of grief,” and then charges the frontlines (17.660, 670).
The “dark heart” of Hector gives further credence to his role as the tragic, tortured hero of Troy. He is or is becoming a broken vessel over spent by the gods. How many lives has Hector already given for Troy? Yet over and over again, he is reanimated by the gods and tossed back into the fray of a war already determined. He a ragdoll in a fatalistic dispute amongst the gods. In fact, right after the second notion of this grief gripping Hector, he is speared in the chest but presumably saved by the divine (17.684). One may consider what psychological toll the war is bearing on Hector and how much more the Trojan prince has to give for his homeland.
78. How much does human agency affect fate?
The Iliad is often critiqued for being overly fatalistic: man lacks any true agency in the world and his actions are simply determined by the divine. For example, when Glaucus sets forth the critique of cowardice against Hector, the Trojan prince responds that he is never a coward unless Zeus makes him one (17.201). On another occasion, an Achaean soldier states: “but all lies in the lap of the great gods, I’ll fling a spear myself and leave the rest to the Zeus (17.587). The deterministic quality of the Iliad usually opens it to criticisms of being flat and without a true human drama. For example, to what degree may Hector be held culpable for his actions when he is acted upon so often by the gods? We raised a similar question with Helen earlier in the epic.
Books seventeen, however, also reminds us that man bears a certain receptivity to the divine and an arguable co-authorship over his own actions. We see that even though Zeus may favor the Trojans for an advance, Achaean fortitude and Trojan fear may adjust the outcome (17.372). Again, we return to the thesis that the fixed destiny is flexible. One may recall Athena rushing to stop Achilles from slaying Agamemnon in book one, and how her actions upon him had to be coupled with his receptivity in order to be truly efficacious. The Iliad is certainly fatalistic, but the human agency is not without consequence—the degree to which the human may affect fate is a matter of much debate.
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[1] Fagles, 644.
[2] Lattimore translates the line: “But bitter sorrow closed over Hektor’s heart in its darkness,” (17.83). In Fagles, the phrase “dark heart” is also notably used elsewhere in book seventeen to describe an Achaean (17.571).
Dcn. Harrison Garlick and Adam Minihan discuss Book 16 of the Iliad: Patroclus Fights and Dies.
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70. What happens in books sixteen?
Patroclus returns to Achilles and begs Achilles to send him out to fight in Achilles’ armor (16.43). Homer writes: “So [Patroclus] pleaded, lost in his own great innocence, condemned to beg for his own death and brutal doom” (16.53). Achilles comes to understand his rage cannot last forever, but he recalls his promise not to fight until the “cries and carnage reached” his own ships (16.72). Thus, Achilles agrees and sends Patroclus with his armor and the Myrmidons to fight (16.74). However, Achilles tells Patroclus to only fight the Trojans off the Argive ships and not to pursue them back to Troy, because that may diminish his glory, the fame of Achilles (16.105).
Homer notably invokes the Muses to help him sing about the burning of the Achaean ships (16.135). Ajax is unable to stop Hector and his men from setting the ship ablaze, and Achilles sees the flames and sends out Patroclus with the Myrmidons (16.151). The Trojan columns “buckle” upon seeing Patroclus who they believe is Achilles (16.328), as Patroclus bears all of Achilles’ war gear save his spear (16.168); thus, Patroclus and the Argives set upon the Trojans like “ravenous wolves” upon lambs (16.415). Sarpedon, son of Zeus, is slain by Patroclus (16.570), and Glaucus, strengthened by Apollo, rallies his fellow Trojans to secure Sarpedon’s body (16.631). Similarly, Patroclus rallies Ajax and the Argives to the body of Sarpedon, the first to storm the Argive wall (16.653), to “mutilate him, shame him, [and] tear his gear from his back” (16.653). Thus, the body of Sarpedon, son of Zeus, becomes lost under the “mass of weapons, blood, and dust” (16.743).
Zeus makes Hector a coward, and the Trojan prince calls for a retreat (16.763). The Achaeans win the body of Sarpedon, but Zeus sends Apollo to rescue the body before it can be mutilated (16.777). Patroclus, not heeding the command of Achilles, pushes his assault onward toward Troy (16.803). Apollo repels Patroclus’ assaults on Troy and warns the warrior that it is “not the will of fate” that Troy falls to him (16.826). Though Apollo strengthens Hector (16.840), Patroclus still presses forward but Apollo sneaks behind him and slams Patroclus to the ground with a slap across the back (16.920). Disoriented, Patroclus is then stabbed in the back by Euphorbus, a Trojan (16.938), who then retreats. Hector then runs forward and spears Patroclus in the gut—the “brazen point went jutting straight out through Patroclus’ back” (16.967). Hector taunts the dying Patroclus (16.967), and Patroclus dies prophesying that Hector will die soon (16.998).[1] The last word of Patroclus is “Achilles” (16.1000).
71. What do we observe about Zeus and the nameless fate in book sixteen?
We see Zeus lament his “cruel fate” in his son, Sarpedon, having to die to bring about the death of Patroclus (16.514). Knox holds this shows the “will of Zeus is thwarted by fate.”[2] He writes that the “will of Zeus” and this “nameless destiny” are “irreconcilables” held in “coexistence.”[3] He sees in this the nascent discussion in the Western tradition to “embrace the logical contradiction of freedom and order combined.”[4] Many will note that both Zeus and Hera seem to assume that Zeus could change Sarpedon’s “doom sealed long ago” but that doing so would introduce chaos (16.524). The scene is reminiscent of Zeus holding out the golden scales in book eight (Question 46). Is fate simply an alter ego of Zeus, a manifestation of his will, or is Zeus truly subject in some way to the nameless fate? We should also recall that Zeus already showed himself vulnerable to the more primordial forces of Sleep and Love.
It should be remembered that once Zeus gives his assent, he cannot change his decision; thus, his own will certainly manufactures a particular fate to which even he is bound. Note that just prior to Patroclus’ death we are told: “the Father’s spirit churning, thrashing out the ways, the numberless ways to cause Patroclus’ slaughter” (16.752). As Knox observes, “the idea of destiny, of what is fixed, is flexible.”[5] The question is whether Zeus is bound by and even an agent of a more cosmic, nameless fate.
72. What observations may be made between fate and the will of men?
Hector, who is acted upon often by the gods, occasions several examples in book sixteen of the dynamics between the will of man and the will of the gods. First, observe that upon the Achaean advance, Hector, who knows the tide has turned, “still stood firm, defending die-hard comrades” (16.428). Then Zeus sends cyclones to produce the foretold “dust storm” (16.442), and Hector’s horses speed him away as his fellow Trojans die (16.433). For a more explicit example, Zeus begins the work of Patroclus’ death by making Hector a coward (16.763). Hector, however, appears aware that Zeus is acting upon him (16.766). Homer tells us that Patroclus “might have escaped his doom” if he had listened to Achilles, but ultimately “the will of Zeus will always overpower the will of men” (16.803).
Similarly, as Patroclus attempts to assault Troy, Apollo repels him and says: “it is not the will of fate” that Troy fall to him (16.826). As an aside, the reader should note that Apollo also says it is not the fate of Troy to fall to Achilles either (16.828). As Patroclus lays dying, he is cognizant of what has happened to him, as he tells Hector: “deadly fate in league with Apollo killed me” (16.993). Book sixteen continues to present fate as deterministic over the actions of man though some men may be aware that fate (or the gods as agents of fate) have acted upon them. Recall that Hector has confidence that no man can take him before fate allows. Moreover, even Achilles or Euchenor who seemingly can choose their fate, can only do so because fate gives them that choice.
73. Did Patroclus deserve his fate?
On whether Patroclus deserved his fate, many turn to the fact Patroclus disobeyed the advice of Achilles to refrain from assaulting Troy (16.816); however, Homer couples that sentiment with the line that “the will of Zeus will always overpower the will of man” (16.805). Others will turn to Patroclus following the advice of Nestor and construe him donning Achilles’ armor as an act of pride and folly. Most convincing, however, is that Patroclus deserved his fate, because he failed in his mission—he was sent to Troy temper the rage of Achilles and provide him counsel. The intimacy of Patroclus to the narrative is arguably shown by Homer shifting into second person, e.g., “Patroclus, O my rider.”[6] Achilles’ rage, however, animates the events of the Iliad, and the fact it consumed Patroclus bears a certain fittingness and irony.
First time readers to the Iliad often find Patroclus’ death unsatisfying. Expecting some magnificent duel between Patroclus and Hector, they are presented a fatalistic and ignoble death (Question 70). The ignominious nature of it seems worse when coupled with Hector gloating over a dying Patroclus—a Patroclus already struck down by a god and stabbed by Euphorbus (16.938). Though Patroclus’ death seems fitting given his role, the manner of his death seems illuminative to the tension between the will of man and fate. On one hand, Zeus pushes him to assault Troy (16.805), and on the other he is chastised by Apollo that it is not his fate to take Troy (16.826). It is noteworthy that Patroclus assaults Troy three times and then a “superhuman” fourth assault all repelled by Apollo (16.821), which is then mirrored at the death of Patroclus—he has three assaults and then on his fourth assault Apollo strikes him down (16.913). The explicit pattern links the two texts as commentaries on man and fate. Apollo simply slapping Patroclus to the ground from behind belittles Patroclus and shows the human frailty before the gods (16.920). It emphasizes the deterministic fatalism that haunts much of Homer’s work within the Iliad. Moreover, on a more granular level, the manner of Patroclus’ death seems to exhibit the frustration of Apollo who is defending a city he knows is doomed.
74. What else should be observed in book sixteen?
It is difficult not to note the manner in which Achilles receives the weeping Patroclus, as he states: “O weeping over the Argives, are you? Seeing them die against their hollow ships, repaid for their offenses?” (16.18). We once again see the indefatigable defense of Ajax retreat seemingly only at the will of Zeus (16.121), and that he knows this to a degree “deep in his heart” (16.143). We may observe that Achilles not only has a special cup from which to offer a libation to Zeus but also that he does so outside any feast or drink for himself (16.299). The advent of Patroclus to the battlefield crying “Slaughter Trojans!” brings about the foretold “dust storm” of Trojans retreating back to Troy (16.440). Similarly, the bloodshed confirms the prophecy of Polydamas to Hector on the dangers of lingering by the Achaean ships (16.472). Once again, we are told that the Achaeans could have most likely taken Troy even without Achilles (16.816). Patroclus chastises Meriones for taunting his enemies, saying: “No time for speeches now, it’s time to fight” (16.732) and then taunts Cebriones, the deceased chariot driver of Hector (16.867). Finally, we should observe that Hector calls the dying Patroclus a “maniac” for obeying the orders of Achilles when in fact Patroclus disobeyed (16.984).
[1] Those who may be put off by Hector taunting the dying and then dead Patroclus may compare this Homeric text to the taunting between David and Goliath (I Sam 17). Moreover, note that David strips Goliath of his gear and cuts off his head and brings it to Jerusalem. There is also a parallel between how Hector threatens to treat Patroclus’ body, and Patroclus’ earlier threats against the body of Sarpedon.
[2] Fagles, 40.
[3] Fagles, 40.
[4] Fagles, 40.
[5] Fagles, 40.
[6] See examples at 16.22, 867, 878, 915, 944, 985.
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67. What happens in book fifteen?
Zeus, the father of gods and men, awakes to find the Trojans in full retreat (15.05). Poseidon is leading the Achaean charge, and Hector lays sprawled upon the ground (15.10). Zeus immediately blames Hera (15.18), and Hera denies any involvement with Poseidon’s actions (15.45). Zeus explains to Hera his plan in detail: Patroclus will fight, Hector will kill him, and Achilles will then kill Hector (15.80). The Achaeans will then push the assault until Troy falls (15.88). And Sarpedon—Zeus’ own son—will be sacrificed to bring about this fate (15.84). Zeus, via Hera, sends Iris to tell Poseidon to “quit the war and slaughter” and return to the sea (14.210). Poseidon eventually obeys (15.251).
Zeus, via Hera, sends Apollo to rally the Trojans and gives Apollo his storm-shield (15.272). Apollo heals Hector and the two lead a Trojan assault against the Argives (15.302). The Achaeans panic (15.385) and “clambered back in a tangled mess” (15.405). Meanwhile, Patroclus was still tending to the wounded Eurypylus when the new Trojan assault spurs him to return to Achilles (15.470). Giant Ajax forms a phalanx, a “wall of bronze,” to stop Hector from burning the Achaean ships (15.657). The defense fails, yet Giant Ajax carries on jumping from ship to ship with an “enormous polished pike for fights at sea” (15.787). Hector calls for fire to burn the ships (15.832), and the book ends with Ajax fighting off the hordes—having “impaled” twelve Trojans thus far (15.866).
68. What is the relation between men and the will of the gods in book fifteen?
A predominant theme in Homer and a perennial question throughout many of the great books is the relationship between the human will and the divine. In book fifteen, Thoas, an Achaean, is able to discern Zeus is favoring Hector; thus, he counsels Giant Ajax to call a “withdraw to the ships” (15.349). We receive yet another example of interpreting what should be done by reading the will of the gods in earthly affairs. Homer provides us a unique example of interpreting the divine will when Zeus lets loose a crack of thunder in response to Nestor’s prayer—but the Trojans interpret it in favor of them (15.445). In fact, Hector tells us it is “easy to see what help Zeus lends to mortals” (15.570). Homer invites us to consider what irony Hector’s statement bears by revealing later that as Zeus glorifies Hector, Athena is already preparing his death (15.712). On the matter of burning the Achaean ships, Hector himself acknowledges that at times Zeus “blinds” men to a certain purpose and then later “drives” them to it (15.840).
How men are supposed to know what the gods will for them—amongst such capricious gods or gods that disagree with each other—is a question raised by Homer and later taken up by Plato.
69. What else should we observe in book fifteen?
The story of Zeus stringing up Hera with two anvils hanging from her legs (15.24) is the same story referenced in the first book in which Zeus throws Hephaestus—who had tried to help his mother—off Mount Olympus (Question 13). The details Zeus provides of his plan to orchestrate Achilles’ glory and the fall of Troy is a more detailed version of the earlier “doom of Zeus” (8.551). Homer introduces us to the goddess “Themis,” who represents “established law and custom” (15.117). As observed earlier (Question 31), we are provided another example of Ares representing rage and impudence, while Athena tempers him by wisdom and good counsel—and a bit of strength (15.140). Athena’s observation, however, that Zeus’ rage would consume both guilty and innocent gods alike is reminiscent of Patroclus’ observation that Achilles’ rage would cause him to accuse a friend without fault (Question 56). One may ponder in what ways Zeus and Achilles are similar.
One is left to wonder what change occurred in Poseidon, as he shifted from one who told Hera he would not war against Zeus (8.239) to one who boasts to Iris he is a peer of Zeus (15.222)—though the sea god does acquiesce to Zeus’ command (15.251). The importance of a shield is a theme for Homer, and here we see clearly that bearing the shield of another makes you an emissary of the owner—as Apollo is for Zeus (15.272). It is somewhat notable that Prince Paris actually uses a spear (15.401). Observe that Apollo, who is quite eager to tear down what remains of the Achaean rampart (Question 59), uses the opportunity of leading the Trojan charge to do a bit of just that (15.425). Once again, Hector would have died save for Zeus’ intervention (15.539). It is interesting to compare our review of piety with Nestor’s exhortation to the Achaeans to fight for the sake of your parents—even if they are dead (15.769).
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Book Fourteen
Hera Outflanks Zeus
And so, deep in peace, the Father slept on Gargaron peak,
Conquered by Sleep and the strong assault of Love. Homer (14.419)
64. What happens in book fourteen?
Nestor, who was still tending to the injured Machaon, leaves his tent and, upon seeing the ruined wall of the Achaeans, goes to find Agamemnon (14.27). Nestor finds the wounded Agamemnon alongside the also wounded Odysseus and Diomedes (14.34). Agamemnon again despairs and orders the Achaean to prepare to sail home (14.90), and he is chastised by Odysseus who calls him a “disaster” (14.102). Diomedes counsels the wounded kings to return to battle but inspire the soldiers from behind the front lines (14.158). Poseidon inspires Agamemnon and the sea god lets out a cry as loud as “nine, ten thousand combat soldiers” to strengthen the Achaeans (14.182). Meanwhile, Hera, wanting to run interference for Poseidon, plots “to make immortal love” with Zeus and lure him into a deep sleep (14.199). She lies to Aphrodite about her motives, and receives from the goddess of love a band with the power to “make the sanest man go mad” (14.261). Hera next enlists the god Sleep to help her overpower Zeus (14.279) by promising him one of the younger Graces to marry (14.323). Hera seduces Zeus, and the father of gods and men is conquered by love and sleep (14.420).
Sleep tells Poseidon of Zeus’ slumber, and the sea god leads the Achaeans against the Trojans (14.430, 456). Ajax and Hector clash on the front lines, and Ajax lifts a “holding-stone”—a large stone used to anchor a ship—and strikes Hector (14.486). Hector “plunged in the dust” (14.494) and was taken back to Troy by his comrades (14.509). The retreat of Hector rises the Achaean battle-lust (14.520), and they push back against the Trojans until “the knees of every Trojan shook with fear” (14.592). Homer ends the book with an invocation to the Muses—the 5th invocation—as Poseidon shifts the favor of war to the Achaeans (14.596).
65. What are we to make of Love and Sleep conquering Zeus?
To overcome Zeus, the father of gods and men, Hera must employ two powers: Love and Sleep. Hera avers that Love may “overwhelm all gods and mortal men” (14.242). Moreover, in the band of Love that Aphrodite gives Hera, it is said “the world lies in its weaving” (14.265). Similarly, Hera calls Sleep, the “twin brother of Death,” the “master of all gods and all mortal men” (14.279). She makes a similar statement about Night, stating: “old Night that can overpower all gods and mortal men” (14.312). Homer explicitly tells us that Zeus was “conquered by Sleep and the strong assaults of Love” (14.420).
The conquering of Zeus raises questions as to the power and role of these more primordial gods. Homer does not present his reader with a clear relation or history between these personifications of primal power and the Olympian gods; however, the Greek poet Hesiod, who lived after Homer in the 700s BC, composed a genealogy of the gods called Theogony. Though he lived after Homer, Hesiod, like Homer, is weaving together longstanding traditions in Greek mythology into one coherent whole. For Hesiod, the world starts with the primordial gods of Chaos, then Earth (Gaia), then Abyss (Tartarus), and then Love (Eros). Pertinent to our passage in Homer, Chaos gives birth to Night, and then Night gives birth to Doom, Fate, Death, Sleep, and Dreams.
The mythologies of Homer and Hesiod do not always agree. For example, Homer presents Aphrodite with a mother, while Hesiod presents her as a spontaneous generation of Uranus’ genitals being tossed into the sea by Cronos. Regardless, Hesiod provides a critical insight into the more primordial gods of Love and Sleep in relation to gods of Mount Olympus. One may posit, however, that Zeus is not conquered, as his will endures despite the efforts of Hera, Love, and Sleep. On the contrary, one may suggest that the fall of Zeus to Love and Sleep reveals that Zeus is in a manner subject to the more primordial gods and this would include Fate. We return to the question of whether Zeus is subject to a nameless Fate or such a Fate is simply an alter ego of his (Question 46).
66. What else should be noted in book fourteen?
It is noteworthy that Nestor must use his son’s shield, as his “boy used his father’s” (14.12). Such familial themes will become more prominent in Homer’s Odyssey. We should note Poseidon is now doing what Hera tempted him to do previously (8.239). One may observe that Hera convinces Sleep to aid her by offering him a love-interest while she wears Aphrodite’s band (14.323). Given the theme of corpses and proper burials, Homer presents a corpse trade between the armies (14.552). We end with an invocation to the Muses, as Homer praises the god of earthquakes, i.e., the sea god Poseidon, for “turning the tide” (14.597).
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Zeus, Father Zeus, they say you excel all others… all men and gods, in wisdom clear and call—but all this brutal carnage comes from you. - King Menelaus (13.727)
64. What happens in book thirteen?
Father Zeus, believing that the deathless gods will not violate his strict decree to not interfere with the Trojan war, turns his attention “a world away to the land of the Thracian horsemen” (13.06). Poseidon seizes this opportunity to help the Achaeans. He blesses the Aeantes (13.74) and whips up the fighting strength of the whole Argive army (13.112). Battalions are formed around the Aeantes, and they war against Hector and his Trojans (13.149). Meanwhile, the two Achaeans, Idomeneus and Meriones, rush to the left flank where the Argives are suffering the most (13.363, 80). Poseidon continues to secretly war against the will of Zeus by spurring on the Achaeans against the Trojans (13.408). Idomeneus, the Achaean, crushes the Trojan Asius (13.452) and Alcathous (13.512) on the left flank. In return, Aeneas, the son of Aphrodite, arrives to bolster the Trojans and both sides clash around the corpse of the Trojan Alcathous (13.575). Menelaus, the Spartan King, squares off with Helenus, the Trojan prophet (13.672). Helenus’ arrow bounces off the Achaean war-lord’s breastplate (13.679), but Menelaus’ spear goes through Helenus’ first (13.686)—and his Trojan campions drag him away from the battlefield for care (13.687).
While the Argives hold the left flank, Hector, favored by Zeus, continues to collide against the Achaeans, blessed by Poseidon, back where Hector smashed the gate (13.785). Polydamas advises Hector to regroup, warning Hector that he has been blessed to fighting power but not necessarily in tactics (13.841). Hector listens, and he goes to recall his warlords (13.873). Hector finds Paris and the carnage that the Trojans suffered on the left flank (13.884). The two princes rejoin the main force at the broken gate, but the Achaeans are immovable under the leadership of giant Ajax (13.935). Ajax taunts Hector that the Trojans will be forced to retreat soon, and a bird-omen appears to confirm his words (13.948). Hector returns the taunt, and both sides prepare for another Trojan charge (13.951).
65. How does the story of Asius end?
We met Asius charging his chariot into the Achaean wall and—as the attempt fails—calling Zeus a liar (Question 60). In book thirteen, Idomeneus spears Asius in the throat with the tip “ripping” through the nape of his neck (13.450). Later, Asius’ son, Adamas, is speared by Meriones “between the genitals and the naval—[a] hideous wound, the worst the god of battles deals to wretched men” (13.657). Homer describes him as “hugging the shaft he writhed, gasping, shuddering (13.660). Given the manner of their deaths, one is left inclined that Asius has brought the doom of Zeus upon himself by his own words.
66. What else should be noted in book thirteen?
Despite his prowess on the battlefield, it is notable that giant Ajax does not immediately recognize Poseidon in the guise of Calchas (13.85). Poseidon calls Achilles a “worthless coward.” (13.139). Homer presents another good description of the phalanx (13.154). Teucer, an archer thus far, is shown to successfully use a spear (13.211). One may question whether the brutality of the war is increasing, as we see little Ajax toss the head of a dead Trojan at the feet of Hector (13.242). We see another practical import of stripping the bodies of their loot, as Meriones is able to replace his broken spear with one of the many Trojan spears stored by Idomeneus (13.309). One recalls the marriage offer of Agamemnon’s daughter to Achilles, as Idomeneus offers Agamemnon’s “loveliest daughter” in sarcasm to the dead Othryoneus (13.422).
Homer presents a comparison between Ares who is aloof and unaware his son has even died (13.602) with Poseidon who actively aids the Achaeans, like Antilochus (13.642). Menelaus, like his brother (9.142), understands that the present “brutal carnage” comes from Zeus, and that Zeus is favoring the Trojans (13.729). We are introduced to the Achaean Euchenor who, like Achilles, was able to choose his fate: die fighting at Troy or die of a plague at home (13.764). Finally, it is not unremarkable that Homer uses the imagery of storm pounding the seas to describe the Trojans—backed by the storm god, Zeus—clashing against the Achaeans—backed by the sea god, Poseidon (13.920).
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Bird-signs! Fight for your country—that is the best, the only omen! - Hector (12.280)
58. What happens in book twelve?
As many of the Achaean warlords lay injured, Hector leads his onslaught against the Greek defenses (12.05). The Achaean ships are surrounded by a rampart, a thick wood wall, with a wide trench in front (12.05). The Trojan Polydamas advises Hector that the sharp stakes in the trench and narrowness of openings in the rampart make chariot-warfare impossible (12.72). The Trojans dismount and break into five battalions to assault the Achaean wall (12.105). Hector leads the charge against the rampart, as Zeus whips up a dust storm to aid the Trojan siege (12.292). The Achaeans have blocked the rampart gates with “ox-hide shields,” (12.305), they have gathered heavy stones to crush their enemies (12.438), and they have the two Aeantes, i.e., Giant and Little Ajax, helping to defend the wall (12.307).
Sarpedon, driven by his father, Zeus, leads his Trojan battalion against the rampart (12.340). Homer writes: “And Sarpedon clawing the rampart now with powerful hands, wrenched hard and the whole wall came away, planks and all” (12.460). He “made a gaping breach for hundreds” (12.463). The Achaean archer Teucer hits Sarpedon with an arrow, but Zeus ensures it is not a fatal hit (12.467). The armies crash with neither gaining ground (12.485) until Zeus gives Hector the glory (12.507). Hector lifts a boulder no two men could easily lift (12.519) and, amongst the chaos of the clashing forces, throws the boulder at the Achaean gate (12.532). The gate shatters, and Hector “bursts through in glory” (12.537). He cries, “the wall, storm the wall!” (12.544) The book ends as the Trojans swarm through the wall and the Argives “scatter back in terror” (12.547).
59. What is the issue with the gods and the wall of the Achaeans?
The opening of the book returns to the fact the Achaeans did not give the deathless gods their due sacrifice when they made their rampart (12.07). Recall that Poseidon and Apollo, who helped build the Trojan walls (Question 42), are offended that the Achaean walls may receive more glory. Homer then shifts into the future when Troy has fallen and tells us that Poseidon and Apollo (with some help from Zeus) will destroy the Achaean wall and set everything right (12.41). The Achaeans forgetting to exercise their proper piety toward the gods and thus omitting a due sacrifice is a poor habit that should be noted for future reference.
60. What should we make of the story of Asius?
Homer gives us the curious narrative of Asius, a Trojan ally and leader, who refuses to leave his chariot when all the other Trojans form into battalions to assault the Achaean wall (12.132). As Homer writes: “Straight at the gates he lashed his team, hell-bent, his troops crowding behind him shouting war cries” (12.146). The assault fails. Asius calls Zeus a liar—presumably because he knew that Zeus had given the Trojans the glory but did not think that only two Achaeans—the “lionhearted of Lapith”—could hold the gate (12.153). The error of Asius seems twofold: first, breaking ranks with Hector, favored by Zeus; and two, presuming that the glory of being the first to breach the wall was attainable and not one reserved by Zeus for Hector (12.507). His tactical error is, at heart, a theological one: an inability to read the gods well.
61. What should we make of Hector disregarding the bird-sign?
After the folly of Asius but before the Trojan battalions assault the wall, the Trojans see another bird-sign, an omen (12.231). The Trojan Polydamas warns the omen is a sign from Zeus not to engage the Argives at their ships—and if they do, the Argives will slaughter the Trojans all the way back to the walls of Troy (12.249). Hector provides a somewhat famous response: “Bird-signs! Fight for your country—that is the best, the only omen!” (12.280) One may compare his response to his earlier unquestioning obedience to the bird-sign that recalled him to Troy to arrange a sacrifice to Athena (Question 35).
Any perspective here that attempts to present Hector as trusting in the power of men over the gods (i.e., human capacity over superstition) seems unsupported by the text. Note that Hector disregards the bird-sign as an omen from Zeus, because he believes he knows the will of Zeus (12.272). No doubt this is a reference to the message from Iris in book eleven (11.217). In sum, Hector tells Polydamas to not be a coward and trust “in the will of might Zeus” (12.278). The issue here is not trusting in human ability over the divine, but rather how to interpret the divine will.
62. What else should be observed in book twelve?
The speech of Sarpedon to Glaucus prior to storming the wall provides a quick insight into the ancient concept of duty (12.359). Sarpedon lists how he and Glaucus enjoy grand estates and other kingly benefits from their people; thus, it is now their duty to throw themselves into the “blaze of war” (12.367). In sum, they have a duty to win glory that justifies their kingly lives (12.372). In contrast to the perspective of the ruler, we see the perspective of the ruled in Polydamas’ comment to Hector: “Never right, is it, for a common man to speak against you, King… our part is always to magnify your power” (12.247). As such, book twelve provides some material to discern the mindset of the ruler and ruled in ancient Greek culture.
Also, if we recall the question of how strong is the Trojan army without divine intervention (Question 44), note that not even Hector and his Trojans could have breached the wall unless Zeus first sent in his son, Sarpedon, to breach it (12.337). Finally, recall too the theme of how the Iliad depicts warfare (Question 27), and note that Homer mentions the Trojans forming a phalanx to storm the Achaean wall (12.514).
63. Halfway through the Iliad, what the major themes or motifs we should be tracking?
The major themes and motifs that we should be observing throughout the Iliad are as follows:
We continue to turn toward Homer the teacher to unfurl these themes and provide us insights not just into his characters but into human nature as a whole.
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Achilles will listen to you—for his own good. So the old man told you. You’ve forgotten. - Nestor to Patroclus (11.943)
55. What happens in book eleven?
Dawn has finally arisen from her bed (11.01). To welcome the new day, Zeus sends the goddess Strife to the Achaean camp (11.03), and the goddess releases a “high-pitched cry, great and terrible” that drives the Achaeans “mad for war and struggle” (11.14). Agamemnon rallies the Achaeans and Hector the Trojans, as Zeus rains blood from the sky (11.62) and Strife continues her “wild groans” (11.84). Following Diomedes advice to fight on the front lines (9.865), Agamemnon leads the Argives on a bloody warpath against the Trojans (11.107). Agamemnon slaughters his enemies—including one Trojan who Agamemnon cuts off his head and arms and, as Homer says, sends him “rolling through the carnage like a log” (11.170). Zeus sends Iris to tell Hector to stay off the front lines and command his men from the back until Agamemnon is wounded—then Zeus will bless Hector to lead a counteroffensive all the way back to the Achaean ships (11.217). After Agamemnon is wounded and retreats (11.310), Hector pushes the Achaeans all the way back to their rampart (11.330). One by one the Achaean warlords—Diomedes (11.443), Odysseus (11.515), and Machaon the healer (11.598)—are all injured and retreat. Great Ajax desires to hold his ground but is forced to retreat by Zeus (11.638).
Still by his ship, Achilles watches the onslaught and tells Patroclus he thinks the Achaeans are ready to “grovel at his knees” (11.719). Achilles sends Patroclus to Nestor for advice (11.722), and Nestor tells Patroclus that Achilles should at least let Patroclus lead the Myrmidons into battle wearing Achilles’ armor (11.951). Patroclus leaves to return to Achilles but stops to assist an Achaean suffering from an arrow wound (11.1001). The book ends with Patroclus caring for his fellow solider, and the foretold “doom of Zeus” about the body of Patroclus inches closer (8.551).
56. What else should be noted about Patroclus?
Of important note is how Patroclus speaks of Achilles to Nestor (11.773). He states that Achilles is a “great and terrible man” and would “leap to accuse a friend without fault” (11.774). It is not the language one would expect from Patroclus, the “great friend” of Achilles (Question 49). We are told that Nestor was part of the group of Achaeans who went to the house of Peleus seeking recruits for the Trojan war (11.916). Peleus tells his son, Achilles, to “always be the best, my boy, the bravest, and hold your head up high above the others,” which is the exact same advice given the Glacus by his father except it lacks the exhortation to “never disgrace the generation of your fathers” (6.247). Whether Homer is inviting a comparison here is a matter of some discussion.
We should note well Peleus’ command to Patroclus to counsel Achilles, and that Achilles will listen to him (11.940). Amongst all the rage of Achilles, we have little evidence of Patroclus playing the role of counselor or attempting to diffuse the situation. Nestor critiques Patroclus that he has forgotten his role as counselor to Achilles (11.943). One may hold that Achilles sitting by his ships as the Achaeans are slaughtered is evidence, at least in part, of the failed mission of Patroclus.
57. What else should be observed in book eleven?
One might expect that Hector would balk a bit at being told to stay off the from lines (11.237), but he does not despite his habit of leading from the front. We could attribute this to his piety toward the gods, especially Zeus, or more critical voices would recall that he’s slunk to the back before (5.540). It is most notable that Homer invokes the Muses again (11.253). This fourth invocation seems to illuminate the importance of Agamemnon leading the charge against the Trojans. We may observe that Hector is once again saved by the gods, as Diomedes’ spear hits him in the head but does not penetrate his helmet (11.414, 427). Paris stays true to his character, as he first gloats over shooting Diomedes in the foot—after leaping out of his “hiding place” (11.446)—and then shoots the Achaean healer, Machaon (11.598).
It should be noted that Odysseus, who has been criticized in the past for strategically holding back, is left alone against the Trojans, and he holds his ground well like a “wild boar” against a circle of hunters (11.473, 491). Hector, despite knowing he has the favor of Zeus, stays away from Giant Ajax (11.638)—apparently still wary from their last duel (Question 41). Old man Nestor, who is the link to an older more glorious age, is shown being able to lift a cup with “ease” that the average man would “strain to lift off the table” (11.751). Nestor, who has a penchant for telling stories about himself, shares that Heracles (or Hercules) killed all eleven of his brothers (11.820). Nestor ending his testimony with “so, such was I in the ranks of men… or what it all a dream?” (11.908) is certainly worthy of some consideration.
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53. What happens in book ten?
Agamemnon cannot sleep (9.04). He is tormented by the thousand fires of the Trojans camped around his black ships (10.14), and he tears “his hair out by the roots” (10.18). He dresses for war and leaves his tent—only to run into his brother, Menelaus, who is also unsettled (10.30). Menelaus gives Agamemnon the idea of sending out spies against the Trojans (10.45). After waking the other Achaean warlords, Agamemnon holds a war council in which Nestor proposes someone should infiltrate the Trojans (10.241). Diomedes volunteers and selects Odysseus to go with him (10.284). Meanwhile, amongst the Trojans, Hector also calls for a spy, and the warrior Dolon, an ugly but fast fellow (10.369), agrees to go (10.366).
In the black of night and out in the no man’s land between the armies, Odysseus sees Dolan running, and Odysseus and Diomedes hide amongst the corpses as Dolan goes past at a “dead run” (10.409). The two Achaeans capture Dolon who, in turn, blurts out every detail he knows about the Trojan encampment (10.478, 493) under the assumption he will be taken captive (10.511). Diomedes then decapitates Dolon and his “shrieking head went tumbling in the dust” (10.327). Odysseus and Diomedes elect to attack an outpost described by Dolon, a group of Thracian warriors in league with Troy (10.501, 535). Athena blesses Diomedes (10.557), and he slaughters thirteen Thracians in their sleep—including their king (10.571). Apollo wakes a Thracian who sounds the alarm, and Odysseus and Diomedes ride the slain king’s magnificent horses back to the Achaean camp (10.631). The book ends with Odysseus and Diomedes, now bathed and seated for a meal, pouring out a libation to Athena, the goddess who watches over them (10.670).
54. What else should be observed in book ten?
Agamemnon believes he and Menelaus should do the work of waking up the lesser warlords themselves (10.80); and, similarly, Diomedes notes that it is Nestor, not some younger solider, that has awakened him (10.195). One may interpret this to show the gravity of the situation and the ownership the higher Achaean warlords are exhibiting in this moment. Notice that Nestor unfairly critiques Menelaus for sleeping (10.134), and Agamemnon corrects Nestor but not without stating that Menelaus does tend toward inaction (10.139). Agamemnon’s critique of his brother seems contrary to the pattern we have observed of Menelaus being quick to volunteer for some danger and Agamemnon drawing him back. Given the role of archers in the Iliad, it is notable that Homer reveals that Odysseus carries a bow (10.304).
In book ten (and eleven), Homer will utilize a great deal of animal similes and imagery. One may note that many of the characters in book ten bear an animal hide, e.g., Agamemnon’s lion hide (10.27), Menelaus’ leopard hide (10.34), Diomedes’ lion hide (10.209), and Dolon’s wolf pelt and weasel cap (10.390). One is left to discern what lesson, if any, Homer intends here.
Finally, book ten shows a certain comradery between Diomedes and Odysseus who are both cared for by Athena. One could assert that the two Achaean reflect the two general traits of Athena: her military tactics in Odysseus and her raw martial prowess in Diomedes. It should be noted, however, that Odysseus will later show his military prowess, and Diomedes has already proven himself to be a counselor (i.e., his bookend speeches in book nine). We could debate the degrees of these traits in both men, but overall they both seems to reflect the primary aspects of the goddess of wisdom.
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Book Nine
The Embassy to Achilles
But now at last, stop, Achilles—let your heart-devouring anger go!
Odysseus (9.307)
47. What happens in book nine?
Night has fallen. As the Trojans set their watch, the Achaeans are distraught and panicked (9.02). King Agamemnon despairs and tells his men to sail home (9.31). After a long silence, Diomedes tells Agamemnon to “sail away” (9.49), but Diomedes and company will stay and fight until the “fixed doom of Troy” occurs (9.56). Nestor, the old Achaean war chief, exhorts Agamemnon to have the night sentries take their posts (9.76) and to throw a feast of “grand hospitality” for his senior chieftains (9.80). Agamemnon obeys and, at the feast, Nestor appeals to Agamemnon to make peace with Achilles (9.122). Agamemnon again follows Nestor’s lead. He sends Odysseus, Ajax, and Phoenix (9.201) with the promise that Agamemnon will return Briseis to Achilles along with hordes of treasure and more treasure to come when Troy falls (9.146).
The embassy finds Achilles playing the lyre by his ships (9.222). Achilles greets them warmly and each member of delegation attempts to convince Achilles to return to the war and save the Argives. But Achilles still harbors an undying rage against Agamemnon, stating: “I hate that man like the very Gates of Death” (9.379). Agamemnon has wounded the honor of Achilles and no gifts can undo that fact (9.470). Achilles even tells Odysseus that Agamemnon can keep and enjoy Briseis (9.407). The heart of Achilles “still heaves with rage” (9.789), and he will not even think of “arming for bloody war again” until Hector has slaughtered the Argives all the way to his own ship (9.795). The embassy reports back to Agamemnon and, as they were all “struck dumb,” Diomedes rallies the chieftains and tells Agamemnon to fight on the front lines tomorrow (9.865). The Achaeans, who are stirred by the speech, make their offerings to Zeus and go to sleep awaiting the dawn (9.866).
48. Who is Phoenix?
Phoenix, an Achaean, was charged by Peleus, Achilles’ father, to train Achilles in war and rhetoric (9.533). Regarding his own background, Phoenix tells the story of sleeping with his father’s concubine, at his mother’s request, and his father finding out (9.549). Phoenix runs away from home, and Peleus welcomes him into his home as a son (9.583). One may observe the similarity that Phoenix’s past and Achilles’ present both hinge on a concubine or slave-girl. Phoenix claims to Achilles: “I made you what you are—strong as the gods… I loved you from the heart” (9.587). He expresses his love for Achilles, as a man who knew he’d never have his own son (9.595). In fact, he leverages this into an argument stating: “I made you my son, I tried, so someday you might fight disaster off my back” (9.600). He then gives an explanation of the Prayers of Zeus, personified, who “heal the wounds of mankind” (6.117). The explicit appeal to family and then to the gods (to save his people) invites another comparison between Achilles and Hector—whose piety toward family, polis, and the gods was on display in book six. Phoenix’s appeal to the ancient story of Meleager is such a close parallel to Achilles’ current situation that it is believed to be a Homeric invention (9.646). Despite his appeal that the Achaeans will honor Achilles “like a god” (9.734), Achilles only sees Phoenix as currying favor of Agamemnon (9.748). Though he rejects his arguments, Achilles invites Phoenix to spend the night with him and discern leaving for home in the morning (9.755).
49. What is the relationship between Achilles and Patroclus?
Homer presents Patroclus as the “great friend” of Achilles (9.246). Similar to Phoenix, Patroclus was a runaway who found refuge in the house of King Peleus, Achilles’ father. Peleus assigned Patroclus as the personal attendant to the slightly younger Achilles, and this subservient relation between the “great friends” is notable in book nine (9.242, 246, 263, et al.). Homer does not at any point, however, present Achilles and Patroclus as homosexual lovers. It is a popular modern read of the text, but such a read cannot be reduced to simply a modern ideological rewrite—the idea that Achilles and Patroclus are homosexuals is an ancient one. Though completely absent from Homer, the idea that Achilles and Patroclus were lovers was popular over four hundred years after Homer in the classical Greek era. In that time, homosexuality and pederasty had become popular amongst the aristocratic class in Greece. The playwright Aeschylus (c. 525 B.C.) wrote a play, now lost, that presented the two Achaeans as homosexual lovers. The playwright is referenced by Phaedrus in Plato’s Symposium, and Phaedrus also presents Achilles and Patroclus as lovers. What happened in Greek culture between Homer and Plato to popularize homosexuality (including pederasty) in Greek culture is a matter of some debate, but it may align with the advent of the reworked cult of Dionysus.
It is also noteworthy that the classical Greek scholar on Homer and first librarian of the famous library at Alexandria, Zenodotus (c. 330 B.C.), held that presenting Achilles and Patroclus as lovers was a classical interjection into the Homeric text.
50. What effect does the embassy have on Achilles?
Odysseus, Phoenix, and Ajax all present arguments as to why Achilles should rejoin the war. One may argue that the embassy was effective, as Achilles’ answer to each shows him moving closer to rejoining the war. For example, to Odysseus he states he is sailing home in the morning (and everyone else should as well) (9.437, 507); to Phoenix he states he will decide whether to leave in the morning (9.755); and to Ajax he states he will not fight again until Argives are being slaughtered and their ships are on fire (9.795). As such, one may argue that the embassy was effective in moving Achilles closer to rejoining the war.
Another perspective, however, would be that Achilles has no intention of sailing home. One may question why, if Achilles was on the cusp of sailing home the next morning, he had not done so already. Therefore, the threat of sailing home is a pretense, and one that is dropped by the end of his dialogue with the Achaean delegates. The rage of Achilles will not be sated until his Achaean brothers are being slaughtered and almost all hope has gone. It is less that the embassy moved him to this position but more their arguments removed any veneer to Achilles’ rage and desire for glory.
51. What else should be noted in the embassy to Achilles?
There are a few other noteworthy aspects of the embassy to Achilles. Agamemnon’s offer of one of his daughters to Achilles (9.170) recalls the horrific fate of Iphigeneia who was offered as a human sacrifice to Artemis after being tricked into thinking she was to marry Achilles (Question 9). Notice that Odysseus, as a messenger of Agamemnon, does not repeat the high chieftain’s statement that Achilles must a submit to him, the “greater man” (9.188, cf. 362). Achilles’ rage and its temptations seems to have been well-known to Achilles’ father, Peleus (9.307). Despite Achilles’ statement of loving Briseis with his whole heart (9.415), his vulgar offering of her to Agamemnon makes it difficult to see her as anything more than a proxy for Achilles’ sense of honor (9.407). Furthermore, it is notable that Hector and Achilles have fought before, and Hector “barely escaped” (9.430).
One of the most important aspects is the narrative of Thetis presenting the two fates to Achilles (9.498). In short, if he remains in Troy and fights, then he’ll die—but his glory will never end. If he sails home, his pride and glory die, but he’ll have a long life. The choice of the two fates informs why Achilles is more interested in glory and honor than Agamemnon’s treasure—as even if he was enticed by it, he knows he will not live long enough to enjoy it. Achilles seeks the immortality of fame.
52. What else should be observed in book nine?
Agamemnon lamenting the “brutal treachery” of Zeus and telling his men to sail home (9.24, 31) is reminiscent of him testing his men with similar language in book two (Question 15)—except this time it is not a rouse. Nestor will continue to play the role of the wise counselor, and it should be noted that he represents the ancestral assumption that age equals wisdom (9.70). One may observe that Agamemnon intuits that Zeus’ plan to glorify Achilles through a slaughter of the Argives (9.142). Finally, book nine is bookended by Diomedes speaking up when others are stunned or dumbfounded. The book opens with him rejecting Agamemnon’s call to abandon the siege of Troy and closes with him encouraging the Achaeans after Achilles’ refusal to fight (9.850).
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Book Eight
The Tide of Battle Turns
Many attempts have been made to reconcile these two ideas, to assert the overriding power of Zeus’s will on the one hand, or that of a nameless destiny on the other. - Knox
43. What happens in book eight?
Zeus issues a new, “strict decree” that the gods are no longer to help the Achaeans or the Trojans in order that Zeus may “bring this violent business to an end” (8.08). The gods are in “stunned silence” when Athena acknowledges Father Zeus’ command but also provides the caveat that she’ll “simply offer the Argives tactics” (8.42). As the fighting begins anew, Zeus holds out his “sacred golden scales” of fate, and they show a “day of doom” for the Achaeans, the Greeks (8.85). Zeus makes known this judgment by letting loose his lightning and thunder against the Argives (8.89), and as they retreat, Nestor is left behind—because Prince Paris shoots his horse (8.97). Diomedes charges the front lines by himself and saves Nestor using the horses he took from Aeneas (8.116); but then he also decides to charge Troy alone in an attempt to kill Hector (8.129). Diomedes turns around, however, due to the advice of Nestor and the lightning and thunder of Zeus (8.163).
Hector, bolstered by Zeus’ favor, leads Troy in an onslaught against the Argives (8.197). The goddess Hera, who is raging in Olympus, first tempts Poseidon to intervene against Zeus’ decree, but Poseidon wisely declines to fight Zeus (8.239). Hera inspires Agamemnon (8.250), the Achaean high chieftain inspires his men and cries out to Zeus for mercy (8.271). Zeus, moved by the weeping of Agamemnon (8.280), sends an eagle as an omen that the Argives may turn and fight (8.282). Zeus, however, favors the Trojans, and Hector leads an assault with eyes blazing like the war god, Ares (8.383, 398). Having failed to tempt Poseidon, Hera tempts Athena to intervene against Zeus’ decree, and Athena acquiesces and prepares for war (8.401). Zeus sends Iris, the messenger goddess, to Hera and Athena, and the two goddesses, not wanting to war with Zeus, call off their return to the battlefield (8.490). On Olympus, Zeus partially reveals his plan to Hera and Athena, the so-called “doom of Zeus” (8.551)—that there will be a battle over the body of Patroclus, friend of Achilles. Hector pushes the advance against the Greeks until nightfall, and the Trojans, the Achaeans, and the gods all wait for “Dawn to mount her glowing throne” (8.654).
44. Do the Achaeans actually need Achilles?
The movement of book eight is largely structured by Zeus’ promise to Thetis—that the Trojans would prosper until King Agamemnon sees his need for Achilles (8.423). Often times, however, this is read as a self-fulfilling prophecy. In other words, that the lack of Achilles on the battlefield will inevitably lead to a Trojan advancement; yet, in contrast, it would seem that Homer presents a situation in which Zeus must bless the Trojans or the Argives will win even without Achilles. For example, examine the role of Diomedes. First, the Trojans have already stated they fear Diomedes more than they even did Achilles. Second, when Diomedes charges the Trojans to kill Hector while the rest Achaeans are in retreat (8.129), one would suspect this to be a death sentence carried out by the Trojans; yet, Zeus sends Diomedes one lightning strikes and three clashes of thunder to convince Diomedes not to engage the Trojans (8.192). Why does Zeus do this? One argument would be that it is for the benefit of Hector who, despite the current situation, will die to Diomedes—which would at least complicate Zeus’ dictate for a Trojan advance (4.83-84). Recall that Ajax arguably already bested Hector in a duel and would have died not for Apollo’s intervention (7.322).
To unearth Homer’s intent, it seems worthwhile to engage the hypothetical of what would happen if Achilles refused to fight and the two armies were allowed to fight without divine interference. Simply because Achilles is the best warlord amongst the Achaeans does not mean he is necessary for their victory over Troy.
45. What is the relationship between Athena and Zeus?
Book eight provides another look into the intimate relationship between Athena and Zeus. At the end of book four, Ares tells us that Athena sprung from the head of Zeus, and that Zeus greatly favors her. That favored relationship, however, is in conflict in book eight. Athena states: “Zeus hates me now. He fulfills the plans of Thetis” (8.423). Yet, she states, “but the day will come when Father, well I know, calls me his darling gray-eyed girl again” (8.427). Even when she prepares for war against the Father’s command, she still dons his battle-shirt of lightning (8.442). Zeus makes a similar statement, as he is commanding Iris to tell Hera and Athena to stand down. He states, “So that grey-eyed girl of mine may learn what it means to fight against her Father” (8.465). Note also that when Iris gives the message to Athena and Hera, Iris comments that Zeus is less angry at his wife, Hera, as her actions are expected (8.483). But to Athena, Iris calls her a “insolent brazen bitch” who would “really dare to shake that monstrous spear in Father’s face” (8.485). The closeness between Athena and Zeus makes her actions more insulting. The relation between Zeus and Athena is somewhat tender as far as Hellenic gods are concerned, though Zeus is certainly no paragon of fatherhood. Despite Athena and Hera obeying him, he mocks them (8.515). Athena is quiet, but Hera—her strategy of open disobedience having failed—now employs Athena’s first strategy of a caveat of helping with tactics (8.539). It would appear the goddess of wisdom allowed the rage of Hera to tempt her into a decision less prudent than her own.
46. What else should be observed in book eight?
One of the key texts of understanding the distinction between Zeus and fate appears in book eight: the sequence with the golden scales (8.81). Some commentators see a Homeric tension between the will of Zeus and a nameless fate, while others confidently declare: “Zeus is not subject to fate.” The latter sees the scales as simply a “ceremony representing compromise with a different view.” In other words, fate is simply the alter ego of Zeus. Homer will provide further opportunities to explore the will of Zeus and its relation to the nameless fate. Once again, Homer refers to the Trojans as “sheep” (8.150). Andromache’s unique care for Hector’s horses is notable (8.211), as is the appearance of Ajax’s half-brother, Teucer (8.307)—whose mother was a Trojan princess.
We may also debate whether Apollo defies Zeus’ strict decree to not intervene by protecting Hector from an arrow (8.356). Observe that Homer describes Hector with eyes “glaring bright” like Ares and then uses Arean (i.e., like Ares) language, e.g., “hacked to pieces” and “this maniac,” to describe Hector’s actions (8.397, 406). The text ends with Troy being placed on alert, because its army is camping away from the city, which includes a reference to the towers of Troy being “built by the gods” (8.602)—a citation to the myth of King Laomedon.
Amongst all the important aspects of book eight, the body of Patroclus, friend of Achilles, lending to the “doom of Zeus,” is the most important to note (8.550).
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What happens in book seven?
Hector and Paris lead the “rampaging Trojans” on a counteroffensive against the Achaeans (7.19). Athena goes to intervene, but Apollo convinces her to “halt the war and the heat of combat now” to presumably save the Trojans from Athena’s wrath (7.34). To do this, Athena inspires Helenus, one of the fifty sons of Priam, that the gods have commanded that Hector challenge the bravest Achaean to single combat (7.58). Hector makes the challenge, and it should be noted that the victor can retain the war gear of the deceased—but the body of the loser will be given back to his people for full burial rites (7.92). Homer says a “hushed silence went through the Achaean ranks, ashamed to refuse, afraid to take his challenges” (7.106). Menelaus stands to take the challenge, but his brother, Agamemnon, talks him down—one may once again ponder whether Agamemnon cares more for his brother or cares more that Menelaus’ death might demotivate the Achaeans and end the Trojan war.
Nestor, the old Achaean war chief, gives an oration on how if he was younger he would best Hector and taunts his “spineless” comrades (7.183). Nine Achaeans respond to the challenge and enter a lottery to see who fate selects (7.202). Giant Ajax is selected and his heart is filled with joy (7.220). Ajax and Hector duel, and Ajax arguably has the better of Hector who must be assisted by Apollo—but the duel ends at a draw due to nightfall (7.322). Both sides then separately come to the decision that the next day should have a break in the fighting in order that the dead may be given their ritual burials (7.380, 432). The parties make an oath to this effect (7.476) and bury their dead.
42. What else should we observe in book seven?
We continue to track the theme of fate. Apollo speaks of the “fixed doom of Troy” (7.35), and Hector, when speaking to the Achaeans, says Zeus could give the victory to either side (7.80). It is interesting that Ajax at first wants his comrades to pray but not out loud (7.224)—presumably so their prayers are not construed as him or the Achaeans being afraid (7.226). Attention should be given to the Trojan Antenor who both declares that Troy, having broken the truce, “fight as outlaws,” and recommends they give back Helen and all her treasures (7.400). His statement on the truce to his fellow Trojans is much more direct than Hector’s statement to the Achaeans blaming Zeus (7.80). Paris refuses to offer Helen but agrees to offer the treasure—it is notable that Priam, who agrees not to offer Helen, blames Paris “who caused our long hard campaign” (7.430). Compare his statement to when he told Helen it was the fault of the gods (Question 23). We should ponder to what degree these statements are contradictory to each other. Remember when messengers repeat lines, Homer uses these opportunities to add a gloss (or an omission). Here, the Trojan messenger for Priam to the Achaeans adds that he wishes Paris would have drowned (7.450) and that Helen is the “lawful wife” of Menelaus (7.452). Another insight into the Trojan view of Paris.
The end of book seven should be seen as introducing the reader to the importance of burying the dead—a theme that will take on central significance in the Iliad. Moreover, note that Poseidon laments that the Achaeans are building ramparts and an “enormous trench” (7.520). In other words, the Achaeans are building military defenses under the guise of building burial mounds for the dead. Poseidon, who is concerned the world will forget he and Apollo built the walls of Troy, is referencing the aforementioned myth of when Heracles sacked Troy (Question 33). The book ends with an insight into the Greek supply chain (7.540) and the notable juxtaposition of prayers to Father Zeus and Zeus plotting “fresh disaster” (7.551).
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Book Six
Hector Returns to Troy
Always be the best, my boy, the bravest, and hold your head up high above the others.
Never disgrace the generation of your fathers.
Hippolochus to Glaucus, his son (6.247)
35. What happens in book six of the Iliad?
Pressed against an Achaean advance led by Ajax and Diomedes, Hector and Aeneas receive word of an omen from Helenus, son of Priam, the seer (6.88). The Trojan army is to hold the line, while Hector is to return to Troy and direct his mother, the queen of Troy, to arrange a sacrifice to Athena—a sacrifice to entice the goddess of wisdom to pity Troy and hold back Diomedes (6.102). Hector obeys and returns to the palace of Priam—a magnificent structure that houses the fifty sons and twelve daughters of King Priam (6.291). Hector tells Hecuba, his mother and queen of Troy, to perform the sacrifice (6.318). It is notable that she is to lay before Athena the robe she personally prizes the most, which illuminates the personal sacrifice being ask of her (6.323). Hecuba obeys, but Athena refuses to listen to the Trojan prayers (6.366). It is not unremarkable that Homer immediately follows Athena’s rejection with the introduction of Paris into the narrative (6.368).
Hector chastises Paris—who has remained in his bedroom since his duel with Menelaus—and exhorts him to return to the war (6.383). Before returning to the war, Hector visits his wife, Andromache, and his son Scamandrius, who the Trojans affectionately call the “Lord of the City” (6.477). Hector then rendezvouses with his brother, Paris, and returns to fight the Achaeans (6.601).
36. What should be noted in the duel between Glaucus and Diomedes?
After we see Hector begins his return to Troy, we are introduced to the duel between Glaucus, the Trojan, and Diomedes, the Achaean (6.138). Diomedes, whom Homer gives the epithet usually reserved for Menelaus—“the lord of the war cry”—taunts his opponent but notably gives the caveat he will not fight a deathless god in disguise (6.148). He is still obedient to Athena’s command to not fight the gods—save Aphrodite (5.142). At first, Glaucus provides a somewhat nihilistic response, stating, in part, “like the generations of leaves, the lives of mortal men” (6.171). He then, however, begins his lineage with Sisyphus, “the wiliest man alive,” who is a prominent figure in Greek mythology (6.180). To wit, Sisyphus had a habit of wanting to outsmart the gods, and this resulted in him being damned to Hades to roll a stone up a hill (only to have it roll back down) for all eternity. His son, Glaucus (the great-grandfather of the Glaucus dueling Diomedes) decided to habituate his horses to eating “human flesh to make them fierce in battle.” For this horrific act, the gods ensured Glaucus was tossed from his chariot and devoured by his own horses. His son Bellerophon, who may have been sired by Poseidon instead, is a classic hero in Greek mythology.
The narrative of Antea being unable to seduce Bellerophon but then blaming him for lusting after her (6.188) bears many similarities with the Hebrew story of Joseph and Potiphar’s wife (Gen 39:5-20). Bellerophon carries his own death sentence to Antea’s father, and the king of Lycia’s welcome to Bellerophon—nine days of feasting before asking him his business—recalls the importance of guest-friendship for the ancient Greeks (Question 24). The king attempts to comply with the letter by ordering Bellerophon to slay the Chimera—a part lion, part serpent, and part goat monster (6.212). Homer does not mention that Bellerophon had tamed the famous winged horse, Pegasus, and it was upon Pegasus that Bellerophon was able to slay the Chimera. Bellerophon had three children, and it is notable that the Trojan warrior Sarpedon (Question 33) is the son of Bellerophon’s daughter, Laodamia, and Zeus (6.233). Glaucus is the son of Bellerophon’s son, Hippolochus. The peace Diomedes makes with Glaucus is a testament to the resilient power of guest-friendship, even over generations (6.259). Why Zeus, in his providence, elects to steal Glaucus’ wits in the exchange of gifts is a matter of some debate (6.280).
37. What may be noted in Helen’s lament to Prince Hector?
As we track the culpability of Helen for absconding with Paris (Question 18, 22), we should give care to her short monologue to Hector when he comes to rouse Paris back to the war (6.406). Helen continues to show contrition and remorse, as she refers to herself as a “bitch” and a “whore” (6.408, 422). She also states, “I wish I had been the wife of a better man, someone alive to outrage,” which leaves Homer’s audience immediately thinking of Menelaus, the Spartan king (6.415). Helen critiques Paris’ lack of spirit and portrays him as “blind mad Paris,” a reference reasonably interpreted as the effect of his lust (6.423).
Helen’s short speech presents certain similarities to two distinct texts in the Bible. First, she laments the day of her birth by wishing some “black whirlwind” would have left her exposed on the mountainside or upon the beach to be swallowed by the waves (6.410). Her words recall a certain comparison to the Old Testament story of Job in which he too curses the day of his birth (Job 3). Second, Helen states: “Zeus planted a killing doom within us both, so even for generations still unborn we will live in song” (6.424). Her words present as a horrific contrary to the words of the Blessed Virgin Mary who, after being impregnated with Jesus by the Holy Spirit, sings, in part: “henceforth all generations will call me blessed” (Luke 1:48).
Helen’s words also evoke the ongoing question of the interplay between the free will of man and the providence of the gods. Along with the aforementioned statements, she also avers “since the gods ordained it all,” and, as mentioned, posits that Zeus rooted in her and Paris a “doom” that is coming to fruition (6.414, 424). Did Helen have a free choice in absconding with Paris or what it more an abduction? Does she now stay with Paris of her own free will or is she coerced by Aphrodite? Helen is, without question, a conflicted character.
38. What lesson does Homer provide by Hector returning to Troy?
The ancient notion of piety is one of gratitude. A man who is thankful and humble before the gods is a pious man. The notion of piety, however, is also extended to the polis and to the family; because, as a man is in debt to the gods, he is also in debt to his country and to his family. The presentation of Hector in book six is an invitation to consider his piety. It is notable that Hector, upon entering Troy, exhorts his fellow citizens to “pray to the gods,” and, furthermore, he refuses to pour a libation to Zeus due to his “unwashed hands,” i.e., he’s covered in blood and grime (6.286, 315). He displays a certain piety toward the gods—one that should be coupled with the fact the omen elected him to return to Troy to arrange a sacrifice the goddess Athena (6.102).
Though he is arguably not without fault (5.540), Hector’s piety toward Troy is evidenced in his leadership of the Trojans and his defense of Troy. It is notable that his wife, Andromache, critiques Hector’s habit of fighting on the front lines and asks him to “pity” her (6.511, 482). Andromache’s words may be seen as a temptation against piety. Piety exists in hierarchy moving from higher to the lower—the gods, the polis, and the family. As the Iliad painfully demonstrates, the polis cannot survive without the gods any more than a family can without the polis; thus, one must be pious in due order. Hector rejects the temptation of Andromache not by rejecting his family but by caring for it within the proper whole (6.523).
39. Is Homer presenting Hector as a virtuous character?
Hector displays many characteristics we would refer to as virtues. He is brave, magnanimous, and pious. The narrative of him seeing his wife and son in Troy is a charming testament to Hector’s character (6.462). Though not without his shortcomings, Hector presents to us as a virtuous leader. This is, however, us looking back at Hector as moderns through the more robust virtue tradition of Aristotle and St. Thomas Aquinas. What was virtue for Homer?
In the Greek, the term arete means “excellence.” While its ancient etymology is somewhat obscure, it may be derived from Ares, the god of war, and recall excellence in battle. By the fourth century B.C., however, Plato uses the term arete, translated “virtue” in English, to speak about the excellence of things broadly. For example, in Socrates’ dialogue with Polemarchus and later with Thrasymachus, Socrates speaks of the arete of dogs, horses, and his classic example of the pruning knife. Here, Socrates attaches the excellence of a thing, its virtue, to it fulfilling its purpose, end, or telos. In other words, if we know the purpose or telos of a thing, we can determine whether its quality is good or bad. For example, if the purpose of the knife is to cut, then a good knife would be sharp and a bad knife would be dull. The quality of being sharp would be a virtue or arete of the knife—its excellence. We could also then tell what is good or bad for the knife—a whetstone would be good for the knife while anything that dulled it would be bad.
What then is the telos of the human being? To understand whether a man is good or bad, virtuous or vicious, we must know the purpose of a man. This question will be taken up explicitly by Socrates, Plato and Aristotle. In Homer, however, we are presented with the very beginning of the virtue tradition. A primary question is whether Homer’s concept of virtue is limited to prowess in war or is he pushing his aristocratic Greek audience to start to think of virtue, the excellence of a human being, as something more. If virtue is simply military might, to be like the war-god Ares, then Achilles is no doubt the most virtuous character of the Iliad. If virtue is to be more broadly construed as an overall excellence of man, then the reader is often drawn to Hector.
We should ponder Homer’s intent with presenting a character like Hector, a Trojan, to his Greek audience. The warmth of Hector seeing his family in Troy is a clear contrast to the opening story of Achilles and Agamemnon fighting over a slave girl—with all its trappings of rage and pride (Question 1). Moreover, compare Hector refusing to not return to the front lines (6.521) with Achilles sitting idle by his ships while his countrymen die. What is Homer teaching his audience, teaching us, with the character of Hector? It is a question to ponder as evidence of Homer’s intent matures throughout the Iliad.
40. What else should we observe in book six?
Homer gives us the first narrative of a solider taken captive (6.44). We see again the action of the supplicant hugging the knees of the person with whom he’s pleading (6.53)—as Thetis did to Zeus. Notably, Menelaus is “moved” by the captive’s words and is about to take him for ransom when Agamemnon berates him and spears Menelaus’ Trojan captive (6.68). The same pericope gives us a mention of iron as a precious treasure (6.56). The Iliad, which is set in the bronze age, makes a few notable references to iron—primarily as a precious material.
One could debate the significance that neither Helen nor Andromache join Hecuba and the other noble women in making the sacrifice to Athena (6.406, 455). We are also introduced to the fact that Achilles killed Andromache’s father and her seven brothers (6.491) and ransomed her mother back to her father’s house—who was then killed by Artemis, the goddess (6.504). One should note that Achilles treated Andromache’s father’s body with respect (6.495), as how Achilles treats the dead will be a point of later discussion.
The perennial question into fate is further developed in the text. Observe that Hector declares he will “stand up bravely, always to fight in the front ranks of Trojans,” despite knowing that Troy is doomed to die (6.528). He also desires to die prior to hearing his wife’s cries, as she is dragged into slavery by the Achaeans (6.554). The sorrowful narrative of the fated end of Troy, Hector, and Andromache is contrasted with the warmth and laughter of Hector holding his son. Only after his son recoils does Hector finally remove his war helm (6.564). Moving from soldier to father, Hector kisses him, playfully tosses him in the air, and prays to Zeus for his son (6.566). It is notable that Hector discusses his fate and that of his wife assuming Troy will fall but does not do so with his son. The unspoken shadow here is that it would be a common fate for the child to be tossed from the walls of the conquered polis. One may see Agamemnon’s cruelty to Menelaus’ captive and his statement afterward of what will happen to the citizens of Troy as somewhat haunting this passage of Hector and his family (6.68).
Hector addresses fate directly, stating: “No man will hurl me down to Death, against my fate. And fate? No one alive has ever escaped it, neither brave man nor coward, I tell you—it’s born with us the day that we are born” (6.581). Andromache has her own reaction to fate—she returns to her and Hector’s home, stirs the women of the house into mourning, and raises the “dirges for the dead” for her still alive husband (6.596). The intimate dialogue of Hector and his wife on fate stands in contrast to Hector’s concluding comment to Paris (6.627). He gives encouragement to Paris and speaks of driving the Argives out of Troy, if Zeus permits (6.631). The reader is left to decide whether Hector is simply playing the role of an encouraging leader—despite knowing in his heart Troy will die (6.528)—or does Hector truly have some hope that Troy will survive the Achaean assault.
The long ancillary story into the multigenerational guest-friendship forged between the families of Glaucus and Diomedes coupled with the story of Hector seeing his son and wife gives book six a notable familial theme.
Book Five
Diomedes Fights the Gods
Now take heart, Diomedes, fight it out with the Trojans!
Deep in your chest I’ve put your father’s strength.
Athena (5.137)
30. What happens in book five of the Iliad?
Athena grants Diomedes, an Achaean, power to fight the Trojans (5.01) and convinces Ares, who has sided with the Trojans, to refrain from entering the fray (5.33). Diomedes is “smashing the Trojan lines before him” (5.105) when Pandarus, the Trojan who previously broke the truce by shooting Menelaus, shoots Diomedes (5.107). Diomedes is restored by Athena who tells him not to fight any of immortals save Aphrodite and grants him the ability to see the gods (5.142). Diomedes delivers a brutal death to Pandarus (5.321) and gravely wounds Aeneas (5.340). As she did for Paris, Aphrodite now attempts to whisk Aeneas, her son, away from his immanent death, but Diomedes spears the immortal goddess in the wrist (5.380). Apollo, who has to repel Diomedes several times, is able to rescue Aeneas and places a “phantom” Aeneas on the battlefield (5.517). Apollo convinces Ares to return to the fight on behalf of the Trojans (5.523). Sarpedon, son of Zeus, chides his fellow Trojan, prince Hector, for his lack of courage in the face of the onslaught of Diomedes (5.540), and Aeneas, having been tended to by the gods, returns to the battle (5.592).
Hector and Ares push the Trojans forward, and Diomedes—who was given the gift to see the gods by Athena—warns his fellow Achaeans of the war god’s presence (5.694). Hera and Athena return to the field of battle, and Athena assists Diomedes in spearing the god of war (5.989). A wounded Ares returns to Olympus and, after a tirade against Athena to Zeus, is healed and then sits next to Zeus (5.1050).
31. Is Athena or Ares the actual god of war?
The more robust presentation of Athena in book five challenges our preliminary understanding of Athena as the goddess of wisdom and Ares as the god of war. Note she arguably outwits Ares by having him refrain from fighting (5.33) while she continues to intervene (5.136). Zeus seemingly defers to both regarding war, as he tells the wounded Aphrodite that “Athena and blazing Ares will deal with all the bloodshed” (5.494). Athena’s role is not reducible to simply influencing warriors, as she has her own war-gear (5.841) and, after seeking Zeus’ blessing, Zeus states, “she’s the one—his match, a marvel at bringing Ares down in pain” (5.880). Athena outwits Ares and helps Diomedes spear him in the bowels (5.989).
In contrast, Ares is a “maniac” and without a “sense of justice” (5.874). He is “born for disaster, double-dealing, lying two-faced god” (5.960). He a “butcher” (5.978). He is called the “war-god” (5.960), and his “lust for slaughter never dies” (5.997). In short, Homer presents Ares as a god of slaughter, violence, and chaos, while Athena retains her rationality in war—a goddess of tactics and strategy. One recalls here her affinity for Odysseus, the great tactician of the Achaeans.
At the end of book five, Homer gives a comical juxtaposition of Ares and Athena. The war-god is racked with “self-pity” (5.1006) and “whining” to Zeus about Athena (5.1029). In the mouth of Ares, Homer provides one of the earliest accounts of Athena’s origin: she emerged from the head of Zeus (5.1017). The favor Zeus shows Athena, as described by Ares, is compared with the hatred Zeus shows to Ares, i.e., “You—I hate you most of all the Olympian gods” (5.1030). A statement reminiscent of Agamemnon to Achilles (1.208).
32. What should we make of the obedience of Diomedes?
Book five opens with Athena blessing Diomedes with power (5.01) and, after being shot by the archer Pandarus, Athena blesses Diomedes with the “strength of his father,” Tydeus (5.137). As such, Diomedes is often called “Tydides,” meaning “son of Tydeus.” Diomedes listens to Athena’s order to not engage the gods save Aphrodite (5.142)—though he arguably pushes the boundary by charging Apollo who was guarding the wounded Aeneas (5.495). One may observe that Aphrodite’s mother, Dione, comforts her daughter by describing the pain Diomedes’ wife will feel at his death—a fitting comfort for the goddess of love (5.465). Moreover, in her attempt to assuage her daughter, Dione tells Aphrodite of other times gods have suffered at the hands of mortals (5.431)—a series of tales that seem to have their sole origin in the Iliad.
Diomedes withdraws the Achaeans when he sees it is Ares approaching their ranks (5.694). Upon Athena’s return, she chastises Diomedes as unworthy of his father, Tydeus, due to his retreat (5.920). Diomedes’ response, however, seems tempered, as he responds that he was being obedient to her order not engage an immortal save Aphrodite (5.944). Athena then calls him the “joy of her heart,” and they go to engage Ares (5.953). One may question whether Athena did not understand Diomedes was being obedient to her command or whether her chastisement was a test of his piety.
33. Did Heracles already sack Troy?
In book five, we see the son of Heracles, Tlepolemus, an Achaean, position himself against Sarpedon, the son of Zeus and member of the Trojan army (5.722). As Heracles—or Hercules in its Latin derivative—is the son of Zeus, Homer notes this is essentially the grandson of Zeus against the son of Zeus (5.725). It is notable that Tlepolemus asserts that his father, Heracles, has already “razed the walls of Troy” (5.738). He refers to the time Laomedon, the king of Troy and father of Priam, “cheated Apollo and Poseidon of their wages after at Zeus’ command they had built for the King the walls of Troy.” In response, Apollo sent a plague against Troy, and Poseidon sent a sea monster. The only way to satiate the sea monster was to let it devour the daughter of the Trojan king. Heracles offers to defeat the sea monster and rescue the king’s daughter in return for King Laomedon giving him horses that were originally gifts from Zeus. The Trojan king agrees, and Heracles saves the princess; however, as he did with Apollo and Poseidon, the king reneges and refuses Heracles the horses.
Heracles musters an army and sacks the city of Troy. It is remarkable that amongst Heracles’ army is Telamon, the father of Giant Ajax or Telamonian Ajax, and also Peleus, the father of Achilles. Furthermore, Heracles gives the Trojan princess to Telamon, and she becomes the mother of Ajax’s half-brother, Teucer. As such, we learn that the famous walls of Troy were built by the gods at the command of Zeus, and that the fathers of the two greatest Achaean warriors, Ajax and Achilles, have already sacked Troy.
Returning to the duel, Sarpedon slays the son of Heracles, but he suffers a spear to the thigh (5.755). Finally, it is notable that Sarpedon, who had previously criticized Hector for not being on the frontlines (5.540), cries out to Hector for help (5.785). Homer provides the following line: “But Hector, his helmet flashing, answered nothing—he swept past him, Hector burning to thrust the Argives back at once and tear the life and soul out of whole battalions” (5.790). Sarpedon is laid below an oak sacred to Zeus under which his wounds are tended (5.795).
34. What else should we observe in book five?
As Aphrodite saved Paris, we see Hephaestus saving the son of one of his priests (5.24). We are also told of Phereclus, a Trojan, whom Athena loves most, “her protégé,” who built Paris his ships that were “freighted with death for all of Troy”—a freight named Helen of Sparta (5.70). Athena’s love for this Trojan affords him little, as he dies “screaming” speared through the buttocks and bladder (5.73). Homer notes, “what could the man know of all the gods’ decrees” (5.71). This is another consideration in our ongoing observance of the interplay between the providence of the gods and the actions of man. In addition to the duels and looting (Question 27), Homeric warfare also centers on corpses. For example, Aeneas stands over the broken body of Pandarus, his comrade, “like some lion” (5.332). We will need to observe this aspect of the war, as it will become a crucial plot point to the text. We should also take note of another divine vow, as Hera discloses that she and Athena had vowed to Menelaus that he would “sack the mighty walls of Troy” (5.820).
Book Four
The Truce Erupts in War
The Iliad is a poem that lives and moves and has its being in war.
Bernard Knox
26. What happens in the fourth book of the Iliad?
Zeus taunts Hera with possibly supporting the truce and ending the war (4.17). Amongst the bickering, Zeus reveals that he esteems Troy (Ilium) more than any other city, and its destruction is given to Hera by Zeus of his own free will (4.50-58). Moreover, Zeus’ jest of supporting the truce seems a bit of theatre given his promise to Thetis. Nonetheless, he sends Athena to do two things: first, ensure the Trojans break the truce; and second, that the Trojans “trample the Argives in their triumph” (4.83-84). Athena successfully tempts the Trojan archer Pandarus—who seems unable to perceive the goddess for who she is—into shooting Menelaus (4.145). Athena deflects the arrow into a non-mortal wound, and Agamemnon calls for the healer, Machaon, son of Asclepius, the god of medicine (4.223). With the truce broken by the Trojans with no observable attempt from Hector or anyone else to diffuse the situation, Agamemnon marshals his chieftains for war (4.257). The armies clash and various conflicts are recorded (4.517). The book ends with Apollo encouraging the Trojans, and Athena the Greeks (4.585, 596)—while the edict of Zeus for the Trojans to triumph, at least temporally, remains pending.
27. Is the Iliad an accurate depiction of fighting in the Bronze Age?
“The Iliad is a poem that lives and moves and has its being in war,” as Knox observes. The material of war is bronze. Iron, a rarity, makes an appearance as a precious gift later in the poem. Book four introduces the actual warfare, and we may observe that it presents as more individualistic than expected. It is less group tactics and strategies and more individual feats of skill and bravado. Moreover, rarely are the soldiers generic. The opponents are named and, later in the poem, entire backgrounds will be orated prior to the toss of a spear. In fact, at times, it will seem as if the entire war stops while opponents share genealogies and family histories before slaying one another. One may recall that Homer’s audience is an aristocratic class of Greeks whose ancestors fought in the Trojan war. It is in their interest to hear of the bravery (or cowardice) of their forefathers and their individual exploits. One could also compare these duels to another bronze age duel: David and Goliath. In addition to the duels, Homer will make it clear later in the work that the armies utilized a phalanx—“a disciplined line of overlapping shields” while striking out with spears.
Another unique attribute of the warfare is the grasping for loot. The soldiers kill their opponents and then attempt to take the corpse and strip it of its armor and goods. Homer will develop the rationale behind this act, but, in short, to capture your opponent’s gear added to your glory (kleos).
28. Who is Cronus?
As Cronus (i.e., Cronos or Kronos) is referenced several times in book four. Who is he?
Homer and the Ancient Greek poets tell us that in the beginning there was the world, Gaia, and the heavens, Uranus. The earth and the heavens came together and gave birth to the great and powerful Titans—and the chief titan, Cronos, waged war against his own father and killed him and ascended in power and ruled over the world.
In turn, Cronos had children—the Olympian gods—but fearing his children would dethrone him, he ate them when they were born. Yet, at the birth of one of his sons, Cronos was tricked into swallowing a stone and the young male child, named Zeus, escaped and grew strong and bold until he led an assault against his own father and cast Cronos down—and Zeus, having defeated his own father, became the chief god of Mount Olympus. From his throne, Zeus used his power to live a life of adultery and manipulation.
Moreover, Cronus’ Latin name is Saturn and is the namesake of Saturday. He is the father of both Zeus and Hera (4.69), and, though defeated, his name is generally used in an epithet for Zeus, i.e., “son of Cronus” (4.192). It is worth mentioning that the epithet for Cronus is quite similar to the “man of twists and turns” used for Odysseus (4.88).
29. What else should be noted in book four?
The depth of Hera’s hatred for Troy is displayed in her offering up the cities she loves for destruction (4.61). It is a hatred for which we continue to seek an origin. Along with the promise to Thetis, we should now hold in our minds the Trojans breaking their oath and that oath-breaking bears a curse backed by Zeus (4.180-91). One may judge Agamemnon’s lament for his brother’s impending death and whether it is his relation with Menelaus or his own reputation that is primary (4.192-211). As we continue to track the character of Odysseus, one may discern what is to be made of Agamemnon’s critique of Odysseus “cowering” and letting others engage the fighting (4.394). Finally, Homer is famous for his metaphors and what may be mined by their meaning. It is hard not to note the comical introduction of the Trojan armies as ewes whose breasts are swollen with milk (4.503). Though Zeus has promised Thetis a temporary Trojan victory, fate seems to have already marked the Trojans as lambs for slaughter.
In this episode Dcn. Garlick and Dr. Karl Schudt will discuss:
Book Three
Helen Reviews the Champions
Paris’ spirit shook, backing into his friendly ranks he cringed from death…
dreading Atrides—magnificent, brave Paris.
Iliad 3.35, 41
The Achaean and Trojan armies line up against one another, and Paris, son of Priam and brother of Hector, struts out and challenges the best of the Argives (i.e., the Achaeans) to single combat (3.21). Menelaus, King of Sparta, answers the call, and Paris, upon seeing Menelaus, “cringed from death” and hides back amongst the Trojans (3.36). Hector chastises Paris, and Paris then agrees to single combat against Menelaus (3.84). The “challenge of Paris” is issued and accepted with the terms being that Helen and her treasures go to the victor, and friendship will be sealed in blood between the Achaeans and the Trojans (3.105). King Agamemnon and King Priam seal the challenge with an oath and sacrifice to Zeus (3.129). When it is clear that Paris has lost the duel, Aphrodite swoops in and transports Paris to his “bedroom full of scent” (3.439). Aphrodite coerces Helen to go to Paris, and Helen, at the longings of Paris, makes love to him (3.460, 517). Meanwhile, Menelaus, Helen’s former (or actual) husband, is outside Troy “like a wild beast,” and his brother, Agamemnon, declares Menelaus the winner (3.527, 536). Helen and her treasures should go to Menelaus and the Achaeans; friendship should be bound in blood between Troy and the ancient Greeks; and the war should be over.
Homer continues to unravel slowly the narratives that brought about the Trojan war. As noted above (Question 18), Menelaus was now the king of Sparta and husband to Helen, daughter of Zeus. Paris and a contingency of Trojans visited Sparta and were welcomed warmly by Menelaus. Menelaus left his guests in good care to visit Crete, and in his absence Paris absconded with Helen to Troy. Given the oath secured by King Tyndareus (Question 18), Menelaus turned to all of ancient Greece to help him return Helen to Sparta. Homer presents several references to Helen departing with Paris: Paris “carried off a woman” (3.55); why Menelaus will not trust the oaths of the princes of Troy (3.129); Helen’s emotions for Menelaus, her “husband long ago” (3.169); and Paris’ own account of sweeping Helen away from the “lovely hills of Lacedaemon,” i.e., ancient Sparta (3.520). Notably, Homer introduces Helen in book three weaving a “growing web, a dark red folding robe” as a clear analogue of the war (3.151).
As book one revealed the complexities of Achaean politics, so too does book three reveal the internal politics of the Trojans. In short, almost no one likes Paris. After Paris hides from Menelaus, Hector chastises him saying, among other things, that it be better if Paris had never been born (3.45), he’s a “curse” to his father, and a “joy” to the enemies of Troy (3.57-8). Moreover, the people of Troy seem to want to give his new bride, Helen, back the Achaeans (3.191). Helen also laments that if she shares “that coward’s bed once more” the women of Troy scorn her (3.476). Helen later wishes Paris had died at the hands of Menelaus (3.500). She seemingly sleeps with Paris primarily out of fear of Aphrodite (3.486). When Menelaus is looking for Paris after Aphrodite swept him away, it is mentioned that no one in the Trojan army would help hide Paris (3.531).
It is remarkable that despite the hatred everyone else shows Paris, King Priam of Troy explicitly tells Helen she is not to blame for the war (nor does he blame Paris) but rather blames the gods (3.199). What is Helen’s culpability for the war? Homer presents her as showing contrition for leaving Menelaus (3.218) and being forced into relations with Paris (3.460, 86). Such emotions would leave us with the initial impression that Helen sees herself as culpable for leaving Menelaus but is now coupled with Paris against her will by Aphrodite.
Whether King Priam’s statement to Helen is a father’s inability to lay blame on his own son or a more penetrating insight than the rest of Trojans is left to be resolved. It is not unremarkable that Priam cannot stay and watch his son Paris duel Menelaus (3.360). The character of King Priam continues to unfold.
When Menelaus appeals to Zeus to help him crush Paris, he references, in part, that an example should be made of men who betray their host (3.412). An important concept amongst ancient Greece was what may be called guest-friendship—an unwritten code of hospitality under the patronage of Zeus. A stranger who presented to a house would be met with an overwhelming amount of warmth and generosity, to the degree that many times guests were bathed and feasted long before the host even asked their name. The guest, in a spirit of reciprocity, would often tell his host a story—often his own story. At the guest’s departure, the host would often give the guest a magnificent present. Similar to the New Testament belief that a man who hosts a stranger may be entertaining angels in disguise, the Greeks held that the stranger at the door may be a god. An example of this in Greek mythology is the story of a poor couple that generously offer what food they have to two guests—not knowing said guests were Hermes and Zeus in disguise. Guest-friendship will play a prominent role in the narrative of the Odyssey.
The generosity given and received creates a certain intimacy and vulnerability between the host and guest; thus, if one or the other betrays that trust, he is condemned and cursed by Zeus. It is a human relation cared for by the divine. It is this relation, amongst others, that Paris violated in absconding with Helen.
After Paris hides from Menelaus, Homer refers to Paris as “magnificent, brave Paris” (3.41). It is an obvious use of irony that should alert us to be watchful for Homer’s more subtle uses of humor and irony. When Helen describes the Archaean heroes to Priam, she says of Odysseus: “he’s quick at every treachery under the sun—the man of twists and turns” (3.243-4). The latter half of Helen’s description will be used later by Homer to open the Odyssey. She also reveals that Odysseus led a prior delegation to the Trojans to try and resolve the war (3.247). In the tragic comedy that is Paris, we are left to wonder whether Paris has his own armor, as he wears his brother’s in his duel with Menelaus (3.389). In the classical era of Greece, tragic plays would often have such complicated, hopeless plots, that the only resolution was for a god to come down at the end and resolve it. This was later known as deus ex machina or god of the machine given the fact the actor involved would be lowered onto the stage by some mechanism. The rescue of Paris by Aphrodite seems an ancient precursor to this plot device (3.439).
Book Two
The Great Gathering of Armies
The rage of kings is strong—they’re nursed by the gods, their honor comes from Zeus—they’re dear to Zeus, the god who rules the world.
Odysseus (2.226)
14. What happens in the second book of the Iliad?
Having accepted the petition of Thetis, Zeus sends a “murderous dream” to Agamemnon imploring him to muster his army and attack Troy (2.07). It is notable that “Dream” is personified, as is the “Dawn,” as a goddess (2.57), and Rumor, as “Zeus’ crier” (2.109). Agamemnon receives the dream and shares it with his war council (2.63). The high king or chieftain of the Greeks then elects to test his men (2.86) and tells the army Zeus commands them to return to “Argos in disgrace” (2.129). The men rush to the ships to leave (2.174), but Hera sends Athena to intervene (2.183). Athena inspires Odysseus who in turn rouses the men to stay—reminding them of Calchas’ prophecy they would conquer Troy in the tenth year (2.386). Nestor, the oldest of the Achaean war lords, encourages the men to stay as well (2.398), and, notably, Agamemnon only thanks Nestor afterward (2.439). There is then a roll call of the Achaean kings (2.573). The book ends with a similar roll call for the Trojans, which serves to introduce Prince Hector, commander of the Trojans and son of Priam, King of Troy (2.927).
15. What is the relation between Zeus and the kings of men?
Odysseus declares, “The rage of kings is strong, they’re nursed by the gods, their honor comes from Zeus—they’re dear to Zeus, the god who rules the world” (2.226). Zeus’ governance of the world is, at least in part, mediated through the kings of men. Homer provides such an example by Zeus working his will by influencing the actions of Agamemnon via the dream (2.07). The episode sheds further light on the relation between the will of Zeus and the free will of man. Note also, however, that the dream is a deceit. The gods are not united and Troy is not prime to be destroyed (2.16). The Dream also takes on the voice of Nestor (2.24). It is common for the gods to present their messages through faces familiar to the recipient. In response to the dream, Agamemnon tests his men and tells them Zeus has “plotted brutal treachery” and now commands they return home (2.134). The levels of irony and of deceit are notable. As Zeus lied to Agamemnon, Agamemnon now lies to his men. Moreover, Agamemnon’s lie to his men about Zeus’ treachery is more true than Agamemnon realizes.
16. Why is the dream repeated three times?
It is a common characteristic for messages to repeated in full within the Homeric epics. Outside the benefit this would have for a bard, it also permits Homer a subtle literary device. Though the reader may be tempted to a certain inattention by all the repetition, Homer often has retellings change, add, or omit something. These small changes can have significant plot effects. A moderate example of this exercise can be seen in the fact that Zeus does not state that he pities Agamemnon. Such a statement is a gloss provided by Dream. To the extent such a statement could be true, it is certainly not true in the way Agamemnon believes.
17. Who is Odysseus?
Odysseus, the Achaean who piloted the ship that returned Chryseis to her father in book one, is the king of Ithaca. He is known for his cunning and his rhetoric. It is telling that Athena, the goddess of wisdom, flies first to Odysseus to help unravel the knot Agamemnon has caused by his test (2.196); and more telling that Odysseus “knew the goddess’ voice” (2.211). In the Iliad, the gods will work upon man in various ways, but not all men have the capacity to discern it is the gods at work. It is another facet of the interplay of divine providence and the actions of man. Finally, it is not unremarkable that Odysseus, and not Agamemnon, bears the epithet of “a mastermind like Zeus” (2.197). We may draw a connection here back to Athena, as Athena emerged from the head of Zeus. Given Zeus’ deceit upon Agamemnon, however, we are left to wonder about the true nature of a man who bears such an epithet. Odysseus and his character merit careful observation.
18. Who is Helen of Argos?
In book two of the Iliad, Homer provides a few broad references to the Achaeans warring in Troy for Helen (2.189, 423, 682). The story of Helen would have been known to Homer’s ancient audience and is an ancillary story to the Iliad (Question 7). Helen is a daughter of Zeus and was known throughout ancient Greece for her goddess-like beauty. Her mother’s husband, King Tyndareus of Sparta, was inundated with marriage proposals for the hand of Helen from every imaginable suitor in Greece. As Hamilton records, the king “was afraid to select one among then, hearing that the others would unite against him.” It was Odysseus who advised the Spartan king on how to deal with the suitors. Following Odysseus’ plan, “he exacted first a solemn oath from all that they would champion the cause of Helen’s husband, whoever he might be, if any wrong was done to him through his marriage.” The king then chose Menelaus, the brother of Agamemnon, to marry Helen and become king of Sparta. As Lattimore observes, “the oath of the suitors to Tyndareus is not mentioned in the Iliad,” least not explicitly. Homer more fully develops the connection between Helen and the war in book three.
19. What is the significance of the roll call of Achaean warlords?
The listing of the Achaean chieftains and their peoples bears, for most people, a similar charm as the genealogies in the Bible. A broad consideration here, however, would be that Homer includes such a passage as a sign of Greek unity. As aforementioned (Question 1), ancient Greece was a collection of independent city-states and for them to unite toward a common cause was unique. War amongst the city-states was the norm. A clue to the importance of this passage is found in Homer’s threefold invocation to the Muses (2.573, 787, 664). It also serves as a formal introduction to many of the characters. It also tells us that the best warrior amongst the Achaeans, save Achilles, is Telamonian Ajax (2.873)—not to be confused with “Little Ajax” (2.617). Achilles, per his promise, remains by his ships, and the Achaeans awaiting his return provides much structure to the text (2.791).
Similarly, a short listing is made for the Trojans, which, amongst others, includes Prince Hector, Aeneas, a son of Aphrodite (2.931), and Sarpedon, a son of Zeus (2.988).
20. What can be observed in the sacrifice made to Zeus?
Agamemnon prays to Zeus for victory, and Zeus denies his prayer—least for now (2.487). It is not unremarkable that Agamemnon, as high king, offers the prayer and sacrifice to Zeus. He offers the fat and bones to Father Zeus, while the meat is feasted upon by man. The allotment of the sacrifices finds its genesis in a myth of the titan Prometheus. In addition to giving mankind the divine gift of fire,
Prometheus also tricked Zeus into choosing the bones and fat as the portion due to him. As Zeus’ will is unalterable (Question 12), man may retain the best of sacrifice for his own feast. Recalling Agamemnon’s murderous dream and his subsequent test of his men, it seems fitting that not even the virtue of religion for the ancient Greeks, i.e., giving to the gods what is due to them, is free from cunning and deceit. On a more positive tone, the sacrifice bears both a horizontal and vertical dimension; thus, the sacrificial act binds man to both the gods and his fellow man. It is a political, cosmic act.
Commentary on the text
Book One
The Rage of Achilles[1]
Rage—Goddess, sing of Peleus’ son Achilles.
Iliad (1.1)
6. What happens in the first half of book one?
The rage of Achilles is both the theme of book one and of the Iliad as a whole. Achilles is the son of Peleus, King of Phthia, a legendary city-state in ancient Greece. Agamemnon, the king of Mycenae and leader of the federation of ancient Greek tribes that have come to war with Troy, holds as his slave and concubine a girl named Chryseis—a spoil of war (1.30). Her father, a priest of Apollo named Chryses, offers Agamemnon a “priceless ransom” (1.14) for his daughter. Despite the Achaeans (another name for the ancient Greeks), petitioning Agamemnon to accept the offer, he does not; thus, Apollo, moved by his priest’s prayer (1.42), strikes the Achaean army with a plague, i.e., his “arrows” (1.56, 69, 78, et al.), until Agamemnon finally agrees to return the daughter of Apollo’s priest and offer to the god a fitting sacrifice (1.135). However, Agamemnon finds it unfair that he, as high king, should have his “prize” taken from him while the lesser kings retain their women, their “prizes,” from war (1.158). He then demands that the concubine of Achilles, a girl named Briseis, be handed over to him (1.141, 203-221). The contention between Agamemnon and Achilles provides the catalyst for the events at the beginning of the Iliad that will shape the entire narrative.
7. Why does Homer open in the middle of the narrative?
Homer begins the Iliad in what is called in media res, which is Latin for “in the midst of things” or “in the middle of things.” The Achaeans have already been on the beaches of Troy for nine years when Homer opens the Iliad (1.157). Questioning Homer’s rationale in opening his epic in such a fashion can provide greater insight into the purpose of the Iliad. In short, the opening may be in the middle of the Trojan War, but it is at the beginning of the narrative Homer wants to tell. It is notable Homer does not invoke the Muses to assist him in telling of the fall of Troy; rather, he invokes them to assist with the story of the rage of Achilles. The Iliad is the story of the tragedy that is Achilles.[2]
The in media res opening, however, bears a distinct effect upon modern readers of the epic. As noted above (Question 2), Homer did not invent the story of the fall of Troy. As such, his ancient readers would have been already familiar with the characters and the general narrative. Homer, at times, does not mention key aspects of his narrative until quite late in the development of his story. For example, Homer does not explain why Hera and Athena have a “deathless hate” for Troy until almost the very end of the text (24.34). At other times, Homer will not mention a key aspect of the Trojan war at all. Lattimore refers to these ancillary stories as “marginal material.”[3] The existence of these ancillary stories to the Iliad are known only because later writers included them in their poems or plays. There is much debate, however, on whether Homer elected not to include these stories in his epic or such stories were a later invention by other authors. Nonetheless, if one is to tutor others in the Iliad, one may elect to share all these ancillary stories at the beginning to provide greater context. This approach is taken by Edith Hamilton in her summary of the Iliad in her magisterial encyclopedia: Mythology: Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes.[4] While somewhat fitting for a summary, such an approach arguably numbs the mind to the subtleties of Homer, as one no longer has to carefully watch for allusions or note missing influences or intentions. As such, and to rely more on Homer as the teacher, this guide will discuss such ancillary stories as they correspond to Homer’s development of the text.
8. Who are the Muses?
The Muses are the nine daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne, the goddess of memory. Homer invokes the Muses for inspiration—to help him recall and tell the story of Achilles. The effect of the Muses is captured in English by amuse and its opposite, bemuse. Other notable derivatives are music, museum, and musings. In later Greek mythology, the nine muses were named and assigned patronages: “Clio was Muse of history, Urania of astronomy, Melpomene of tragedy, Thalia of comedy, Terpsichore of the dance, Calliope of epic poetry, Erato of love-poetry, Polyhymnia of songs to the gods, [and] Euterpe of lyric poetry.”[5] Homer’s invocation sets a template for later epic poetry. The Aeneid by the Roman poet Virgil (70-19 BC), the Divine Comedy by the Italian poet Dante Alighieri (AD 1265-1321), and Paradise Lost by the English poet and protestant John Milton (AD 1608-1674) all invoke the Muses at the beginning of their epic poems.
9. What should we know about Agamemnon and his family
One may have noted that Agamemnon praises the concubine Chryseis over and above his own wife. The high chieftain and king states: “I rank her higher than Clytemnestra, my wedded wife—she’s nothing less in build or breeding, in mind or works of hand” (1.132-34). The relationship between Agamemnon and his wife is one Homer will develop even into his sequel to the Iliad, the Odyssey. There is, however, an ancillary story here that has already occurred and is never mentioned by Homer in either of his epics.
On their way to Troy, the thousand-ship fleet of the Achaeans anchored at the island of Aulis.[6] The fleet was unable to leave due to a persistent north wind. Desperate to leave, a prophet named Calchas revealed that the goddess Artemis—the deity of the hunt, animals, care of children, etc.—was enraged because a rabbit, sacred to the goddess, had been slain by the Achaeans. To appease her anger, Artemis demanded that Iphigeneia, the daughter of Agamemnon, be sacrificed. As Hamilton records, “this was terrible to all, but to her father hardly bearable,” but “his reputation was at stake, and his ambition to conquer Troy and exalt Greece.”[7] Agamemnon consented.
The problem, however, was that his daughter was back at home. As such, he wrote his wife that “he had arranged a great marriage” for their daughter to Achilles.[8] Iphigeneia arrived, and “when she came to her wedding, she was carried to the altar to be killed.”[9] As written:
And all her prayers—cries of Father, Father,
Her maiden life,
These they held as nothing,
The savage warriors, battle-mad.[10]
The human sacrifice was accepted and the Achaean fleet permitted to leave. Though this narrative is not mentioned by Homer, it is important context to the relation between Agamemnon and his wife. Moreover, it is unfortunately not the last time human sacrifice will appear in the story of the Trojan war.
10. What is the role of the gods in the Iliad?
The Greek gods dwell on Mount Olympus and are ruled by the chief god, Zeus. As Lattimore observes, “the gods of Homer are mainly immortal men and women, incomparably more powerful than mortals, but like mortals susceptible to all human emotions and appetites, therefore capable of being teased, flattered, enraged, seduced, chastised.”[11] Each god has a patronage or represents “projections of feelings or activities in the observed world.”[12] Phoebus Apollo, for example, is the god of archery, light, and truth, and Pallas Athena, who emerged from the head of Zeus, is the goddess of wisdom. “To be a god,” Fagles notes, “is to be totally absorbed in the exercise of one’s own power, the fulfillment of one’s own nature, unchecked by any thought of others except as obstacles to be overcome.”[13] The Homeric depiction of the gods—and also of characters such as Agamemnon and Achilles—as indomitable, obsessive personalities serves as a template for the tragic characters of later classical Greek playwrights.[14]
Though the opening of the Iliad marks the rage of Achilles against Agamemnon, it also mentions the “will of Zeus” moving things toward their end.[15] A primary theme to unfurl throughout the Iliad is the interplay between the will of the gods and the actions of man. Notably, the gods disagree. Hera, Athena, and Poseidon support the Achaeans, while Apollo, Aphrodite, and Ares defend Troy. How much any god, however, may stray from the will of Zeus is a matter of some debate. Moreover, though Zeus reigns supreme on Mount Olympus, his will seems to encounter the boundaries of a nameless fate. Some see Zeus as “thwarted by fate,” while others declare emphatically that “Zeus is not subject to fate.”[16] Opportunities to explore these themes are abundant in the Iliad. As a preliminary, we may follow Fagles who observes Homer presents “the idea of destiny, which is fixed, is flexible.”[17]
11. What happens in the second half of book one?
Here, let us discuss the second half of the narrative of book one. The woman Briseis serves as a catalyst for the brewing hatred between Achilles and Agamemnon. The latter explicitly tells Achilles: “I hate you most of all the warlords loved by the gods” (1.208). Agamemnon views Achilles as a threat to his rule; thus, he elects to take Achilles’ concubine to reinforce that he, not Achilles, is the superior (1.219, 334-41). Achilles begins to draw his sword against Agamemnon when he is checked by the goddess Athena (1.229). Wisdom tempers rage. Note, however, that Athena tells him: “if only you will yield,” which gives some insight into the cooperation of the human will with the divine (1.243).[18] Achilles then makes an oath that gives structure to the entire text. He swears that a “yearning for Achilles will strike Achaea’s sons and all your armies,” (1.281-2) and eventually makes clear he will retire to his ships and no longer fight for his fellow Achaeans (1.342-55, 403). Agamemnon does in fact take Briseis from Achilles (1.410) and returns Chrysis to her father alongside a penitential sacrifice to Apollo (1.525, 45).
12. What is the importance of Achilles’ prayer to his mother?
Achilles prays to his mother, Thetis, to plead with Zeus “to help the Trojan cause” (1.485) in order to avenge the disgrace he suffered by Agamemnon (1.421). Thetis, a sea nymph, is the daughter of Nereus, the “Old Man of the Sea” (1.424), who is associated with the Mediterranean.[19] He is distinct and subservient to Poseidon—the Lord of the Sea and the brother of Zeus and Hades.[20] Achilles recounts how Thetis once unleashed the great sea beast Aegaeon to aid Zeus who the other Olympian gods had attempted to shackle (1.470). Thus, Zeus is in Thetis’ debt, and she is positioned well to intercede for Achilles. His mother vows to plead with Zeus (1.510), and she is successful in doing so (1.625). Note even the subtle nod of his divine assent is marked by “giant shock waves,” and his word cannot be revoked (1.629). This begins a series of requests by both gods and mortals that are woven together by Zeus into the ultimate fate of Achilles and Troy.
As an aside, it should be noted that Thetis and Peleus, King of Phthia, were in fact married and Achilles is their son, a demigod. Their wedding feast itself, however, holds an important insight into the genesis of the Trojan war—an ancillary story not yet alluded to by Homer.[21]
13. Who are Hera & Hephaestus?
Hera is one of the deathless gods of Mount Olympus and the wife and sister of Zeus. She is the goddess who cares for married women, though she is arguably most famous for punishing the women with whom her husband has affairs. She is eternally suspicious of Zeus and, in the Iliad, bears an insatiable hatred for Troy. Here, she is concerned that Zeus has assented to Thetis’ request, which will cause Achaeans to be slaughtered against their ships (1.672). Note Hephaestus, the god of fire and forger of fantastic weapons and artifacts, attempts to quell the dispute of Zeus and Hera (1.687). Hephaestus is unique amongst the gods as he is both ugly and lame.[22] When Hera saw Hephaestus was born crippled, she tossed the infant fire god off Mount Olympus (18.462). At the end of book one, Hephaestus references a separate event in which Zeus tossed him off Mount Olympus when the “crippled Smith” attempted to protect Hera (1.711).[23] In the Iliad, Hephaestus is married to one of the three Graces,[24] but in Odyssey, the fire god is married to Aphrodite, the goddess of love.[25] The reader should take note of Hephaestus, because, though he is good natured, his memory about his fall as an infant will play an important part in fall of Troy.
[1] The subtitles are taken from the Fagles’ translation and are his own invention.
[2] Fagles, 3; Lattimore, 17.
[3] Lattimore, 23.
[4] Edith Hamilton, Mythology: Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes (Black Dog & Levanthal Publishers: New York, 2017) 198.
[5] Hamilton, 33.
[6] Hamilton, 200.
[7] Hamilton, 200-01.
[8] Hamilton, 201.
[9] Hamilton, 201.
[10] Hamilton, 201.
[11] Lattimore, 54.
[12] Lattimore, 54.
[13] Fagles, 45.
[14] Fagles, 45.
[15] Fagles, 38-41.
[16] Fagles, 40; Lattimore, 54.
[17] Fagles, 40.
[18] Fagles, 39.
[19] Hamilton, 35, 198.
[20] Hamilton, 35.
[21] Hamilton, 198.
[22] Hamilton, 30.
[23] Fagles, 622; Hamilton, 30.
[24] A triad of female goddesses embodying beauty and various auxiliary concepts.
[25] Hamilton, 31.
Deacon Harrison Garlick and Adam Minihan answer the question, "Who is Homer?"
We announce a year with Homer! Who is Homer? Was he a real person? Did he write the Iliad and the Odyssey?
1. Who was Homer?
The city of Troy is said to have fallen in 1184 B.C.[1] Such a date would place it just prior to ancient Israel’s foray into a monarchy under King Saul and the subsequent zenith of the reign of King David at 1000 B.C. Troy was a well-fortified Greek city-state[2] or polis situated on the west coast of ancient Asia Minor—now predominantly modern-day Turkey—across the Aegean Sea from Greece. It was a city of tremendous wealth and culture. The fall of Troy was already part of the ancient history of Greece during the classical era (400-300s BC). Classical Greek historians generally set the fall of Troy from 1334 to 1150 B.C.[3] The classical historian Herodotus (c. 484-425 BC), who set the date for the fall of Troy at 1250 B.C., opined that Homer lived “four hundred years before my own time, at the most;”[4] thus, he placed Homer at around 850 BC—several hundred years after the Trojan war. Modern scholarship tends to date Homer in the late 700s B.C.[5]
Very little is known about Homer the person, except that he was Greek, most likely born in Asia Minor, and was a bard of great mastery, i.e., an oral poet who would compose and perform verses, especially on the histories and great deeds of his people.[6] Various traditions also present him as a slave and as blind.[7] One thinks of the wonderful painting entitled Homer and his Guide by the French painter William Bouguereau (AD 1825—1905).
2. Did Homer write the Iliad?
The Iliad, Homer’s poem about the fall of Troy, did not originate as a written epic. It originally consisted of oral poems or rhapsodies memorized and performed by Greek bards in the centuries between the fall of Troy and Homer. Consequently, we should see Homer as an inheritor of a centuries old tradition of oral stories about the Trojan War.[8] The brilliance of Homer was his capacity to compose a written epic out of a myriad of oral traditions spanning several centuries. He most likely wrote the Iliad (or dictated it to a scribe) around 750 B.C.[9] with his sequel, the Odyssey, at 725 B.C.
The Iliad, as we know it today, “consists in the Original Greek of 15,693 lines of hexameter verse.”[10] Copies of it existed on papyrus scrolls, and it is arguable that the demarcation of the now twenty-four “books” of the Iliad correspond with the original number of scrolls utilized to record the entire epic.[11] One notable remnant of the oral tradition in the written verse is the use of “ornamental epithets.”[12] Epithets are short descriptive phrases of characters that are found throughout the Iliad, e.g., “lord of war,” “man-killing Hector,” “white armed Hera,” “lord of the war cry,” etc. These phrases provided the bard a certain lattice work upon which to improvise and mention key characters while preserving the poetic meter.[13]
3. Why should we read the Iliad by Homer?
The Iliad is arguably the first “great book” in the Western canon—save Holy Scripture. As one would start with Genesis to understand the Hebrews, one starts with Homer to understand the Greeks. Homer represents an insight into the ancient Greek culture whose maturation will eventually assist in the formation of Christianity and Christendom. Almost four hundred years after Homer, his poetry and its cultural influence on the Greeks will serve as an interlocutor to the philosopher Socrates (c. 470-399 BC). In turn, through Socrates, one may find the beginning of a Greek or Hellenized culture that plays a profound role in the formation of the New Testament. Greek reason coupled with Hebrew faith under Roman order helped till the soil for Incarnation of God.[14] Saint Paul observes that Jesus Christ came in the “fullness of time” (Gal 4:4); thus, the cultures selected by Providence to provide the proper receptivity to the Eternal Word made flesh bare a distinctly unrepeatable vocation in the history of mankind.[15] While truth can be found amongst the writings of Confucius (c. 551-479 BC) or the Babylonian epic the Enuma Elish (c. 1900 BC), they lack a certain historical prominence demonstrated by those cultures more proximate to the earthly life of Jesus Christ.
Consequently, we will approach Homer as a teacher—a teacher not only of his own ancient Greek culture but of humanity. The observations and teachings Homer provides in the Iliad provide in turn an insight into our own human nature. We discover truths about ourselves and truths that started to till the earth for the coming of Christ. The “great books” of the West often deal with perennial truths or topics that are relevant to the reality of man regardless of the age. In Homer, several of these truths are expressed in a nascent form that must mature through the cultivation of subsequent thinkers like Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle. In Homer, we may ask: What is the relation between fate and the divine? What is the relationship between the free will of man and the providence of the gods? What does it mean to be an excellent human? These questions are perennial, and we turn to Homer the teacher to guide us through them.
[1] Homer, The Iliad, trans. Richmond Lattimore (The University of Chicago Press: London, 1961), citing Eratosthenes, 18.
[2] Ancient Greece was not a modern-nation state or even a unified kingdom; rather, each city or polis had its own independent government and the stronger cities exerted a certain dominance over the weaker ones.
[3] Lattimore, 18.
[4] Lattimore, 18.
[5] Ed. M. C. Howatson, Oxford Companion to Classical Literature (Oxford University Press: Oxford, 2013), 302.
[6] Lattimore, 19.
[7] Homer, The Iliad, trans. Robert Fagles (The Penguin Group: New York, 1990), 7.
[8] Fagles, 15; Lattimore, 23.
[9] Fagles, 19; Companion, 302.
[10] Fagles, 5.
[11] Fagles, 6.
[12] Fagles, 5.
[13] See Fagles, 14-15.
[14] The most approachable writing on the harmony of Greek reason and Hebrew faith is Pope Benedict XVI’s 2006 masterpiece, the Regensburg Address.
[15] See, Dcn. Harrison Garlick, “Avoiding the Unreal: How to Read the Great Books Well” at thegreatbookspodcast.com.
In this episode, they discuss:
Here is a copy of the text read at the beginning of the episode:
By Deacon Harrison Garlick
Originally published on The Alcuin Institute for Catholic Culture
“We are concerned as anybody else at the headlong plunge into the abyss that Western civilization seems to be taking,” wrote Robert M. Hutchins, editor of the 1952 Great Books of the Western World.[1] In order to “recall the West to sanity,” Hutchins, and his associate editor Mortimer Adler, compiled the fifty-four volume Great Books of the Western World series representing the primary texts from the greatest intellects in Western history.[2] From Homer, to Dante, to Shakespeare, they saw these authors in a dialogue, a “Great Conversation,” that gave the West a distinctive character.[3] These authors, especially the ancient and medieval ones, had contributed to the rise of the liberal arts and to the belief that the liberally educated man was one who had disciplined his passions in pursuit of the good. As Hutchins observed, “the aim of liberal education is human excellence.”[4]
Yet, Hutchins saw the West as undergoing a practical book burning.[5] The great books were being removed from Western education and with them any semblance of a true liberal education. Today, the book burning continues. It is evident that modern education is more a training—it trains students for a societal function and delegates the holistic, human formation to a culture of relativism. A college graduate is no longer expected to be “acquainted with the masterpieces of his tradition” nor the perennial questions into truth, beauty, or goodness.[6] We are deaf to the “Great Conversation.” We are cut off from the great treasury of our intellectual inheritance and only vaguely aware it even exists.
The great books are an invitation to reclaim your education. They are a remedy to the privations of modern education and a salvageable substitute for our lack of a robust liberal arts formation. As Hutchins advocated, in reading the authors of the great books “we are still in the ordinary world, but it is an ordinary world transfigured and seen through the eyes of wisdom and genius.”[7] We are invited to the Great Conversation, to listen, and to add our voice to the pursuit of truth.
There is a latent danger, however, in how one approaches the great books.
In his 1647 masterpiece, The Art of Worldly Wisdom, the Spanish priest Baltasar Gracian, S.J., exhorted his audience to “avoid the faults of your nation.”[8] He explains: “Water shares the good or bad qualities of the strata through which it flows, and man those of the climate in which he is born.”[9] We live, as Cardinal Ratzinger observes, under a “dictatorship of relativism,”[10] and it contaminates every feature of our intellect. To have the requisite self-awareness and virtue to purge these impurities is a “triumph of cleverness.”[11] Whether we think of the ark of Noah, the compulsion out of Plato’s cave, or the angel that led Lot out of Sodom, the great books can help us escape the errors of our age. Writers like Aristotle or St. Boethius challenge our modern presumptions and stretch our imagination to encompass new perspectives on reality. We may better see our age for what it is and what led to our present culture (or anti-culture).
Relativism, however, is pernicious and infects even the remedies against it. We should observe that the authors of the great books disagree. In fact, many of the modern great books became “great” by being contrary to most all that had preceded them. The political philosophy of Thomas Hobbes is a rejection of Aristotle and St. Thomas Aquinas. The understanding of history by Karl Marx is a revolution against over two thousand years of human observation, and Friedrich Nietzsche rejects everyone to wage war against Socrates and Jesus Christ. In short, the “great books” were chosen for their impact and not principally for their truth.
The latent danger in the great books is that one simply becomes a well-read relativist. Before us are the greatest minds in the West, these minds disagree, therefore there is no reasonable expectation of truth. Even so-called conservative great books projects will refrain from saying one great book is better than another—they denounce any type of guidance to the great books, favoring a pseudo-neutrality that places dialogue over truth.[12] As Patrick Deneen observes in his 2013 essay, “Against Great Books,” “I have come to suspect that the very source of the decline of the study of the great books comes not in spite of the lessons of the great books, but is to be found in the very arguments within a number of the great books.”[13] Many of the “great books” listed in the Great Books of the Western World are the same books that led to the crisis of education in the West. As Deneen notes, “the broader assault on the liberal arts derives much of its intellectual fuel from a number of the great books themselves.”[14] If applied incorrectly, the remedy for our failing liberal education, the “great books,” becomes part of the disease.
The great books can help us avoid the errors of our age, but we cannot approach them through those same errors. Approaching the great books as some cosmopolitan relativist bears a contrary purpose than that of the traditional liberal arts. If the great books are our answer to the collapse of the liberal arts, then the great books must echo the true purpose of the liberal arts.
In his 1946 classic, The Intellectual Life, the French Dominican A.G. Sertillanges lays out the simple purpose of study: “The order of the mind must correspond to the order of things.”[15] He is drawing from St. Thomas Aquinas, who teaches that truth is the conformity of the mind to reality.[16] This is the purpose of the liberal arts, of the great books, and of all study: the pursuit of truth. We must labor to conform our minds to the contours of reality. We aid one another in our pursuit of truth through our words, whether oral or written, for it is the purpose of our words to convey truth. How rich we are then to have the writings of such masters as St. Augustine to help guide us in this vocation of the intellect. As Sertillanges teaches, “books are signposts” on the movement of the mind toward truth.[17] We approach such authors as a student approaches a teacher—ready for a tutelage in what is real.
All things are judged good or bad according to their purpose (or telos, as the classical Greeks called it). I know a good knife must be sharp, because I understand its purpose is to cut. And because I know its purpose, I understand that the whetstone is good for the knife while its opposite would be bad. In sum, because I understand the purpose or telos of the thing, I can know whether the quality of that thing is good or bad—and also what is good or bad for that thing. So too is it for our intellect. If the purpose of our intellect is truth, then it is by that standard I judge what is good or bad for my intellect. Like a whetstone to the knife, a true great book will sharpen my mind’s understanding of reality. It is in obedience to this telos that we, like Sertillanges, judge our study and the study of the great books in particular. Not all great books meet this standard—as some are guides to the delineations of what is real, while others labor against it.
If we are to reclaim what was lost when the liberal arts fell, then the purpose of studying the great books must be the pursuit of truth. It was not relativistic dialogue that led Bl. Alcuin of York and Emperor Charlemagne to rebuild the West. Nor was it relativism that nurtured St. Thomas Aquinas or Dante. We are the inheritors of a robust pursuit of truth—a desire to satiate in the thickness of reality.
Yet, how does one judge what is true? In other words: how do we reconcile that we turn to the great books to teach us truth, yet we are to judge the great books by whether they teach truth? Are we the arbiter of what is real? What standards or principles should one bring to the study of the great books? What was the principle of truth amongst the liberal arts?
In his architectonic 2006 lecture at the University of Regensburg, Pope Benedict XVI proclaimed, “not to act in accordance with reason is contrary to God’s nature.”[18] His address—arguably one of the most important postconciliar papal teachings—submits that there is a profound harmony between Greek reason and Hebrew faith. The Greek philosophers, like Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle, sought the logos of reality. The Greek term logos means “the account of something” or the “ordering principle of a thing.” In Plato’s Republic, for example, Socrates is seeking the logos of justice—to know the reason and reality of what justice is. Aristotle speaks of logos as an argument that appeals to the intellect. The pursuit of the logos is part of our intellectual inheritance. It cultivated in the West the belief that nature, and all within it, bears a discoverable, rational order. It is at the heart of both our philosophy and our empirical sciences, as from logos we draw the word logic and the suffix –logy, as in biology (the account of life) or zoology (the account of animals). If truth, as aforementioned, is the conformity of the mind to reality, it was the concept of logos that taught the West that reality was an ordered, objective, and rational whole.
Greek reason and Hebrew faith began a dialogue hundreds of years prior to Christ. As Pope Benedict XVI observes, “despite the bitter conflict with those Hellenistic rulers who sought to accommodate it forcibly to the customs and idolatrous cult of the Greeks, biblical faith, in the Hellenistic period, encountered the best of Greek thought at a deep level, resulting in a mutual enrichment evident especially in the later wisdom literature.” To the Holy Father’s point, one may compare the violent clash of Greeks and Hebrews in First and Second Maccabees with the notable influence of Greek thought upon the reflections on faith in the Book of Wisdom or Sirach. Moreover, it is notable that the first Old Testament canon, the Septuagint (c. 250 B.C.), was a Greek translation centered in Alexandria. In sum, Greek reason coupled with Hebrew faith under Roman order tilled the earth for the coming of Jesus Christ. As St. Paul teaches, our Lord came in the “fullness of time” (Gal 4:4).
The zenith of this harmony is provided by St. John, as he opens his Gospel with an allusion to Genesis: “In the beginning was the Logos, and the Logos was with God, and the Logos was God.” St. John notably gives the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity the name Logos. He further proclaims, “the Logos became flesh and dwelt among us” (1:14). Jesus Christ, the Son of the Father, is the Logos of all creation—the ordering principle of reality itself. As Aristotle notes that logos can be a communication of reason, so too is the Logos the Word—the Word spoken by the Father in Genesis that structured the very order of being. The rational order of reality observed by the Greeks is the work of the Eternal Word, the Logos. As St. Paul teaches, in Jesus Christ “all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible… all things were created through him and for him” (Col 1:16). Note as well that the Logos not only created reality but continues to hold it in existence (Col 1:17). What the Greeks sought via reason and what the Hebrews sought via faith is revealed to be Jesus Christ, the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity, the Eternal Logos.
Truth is the conformity of the mind to reality, because objects in reality have a logos—a rational order—to which the mind may adhere. Here, we may better understand why Christ proclaims He is the Truth (John 14:6). If Jesus is the Logosof all that is real, Reason-itself, the account of all creation, then to conform your mind to Him would be to contemplate the Truth of all things. He is not the logos of any particular thing, but the Logos of all—and in Him and through Him we may come to a better understanding of particulars. The liberal arts must be understood as a pursuit of the Logos. The student would undergo a disciplined order of knowledge that moved the intellect into conformity with reality. First, the student would learn grammar, logic, and rhetoric (the trivium), and then arithmetic, geometry, music, and astronomy (the quadrivium). All of these, however, and such higher sciences as medicine or law, were subservient to and perfected by the queen of the sciences, theology. The liberal arts were a foundation to and an acknowledgment of the study of God by both reason and faith, as illuminated by the Logos. It is amongst the debris of what was such a time-tested tutelage in the real that we must return to the great books. Deprived of this education, we turn first to the teachers who may be called “the ancients,” the intellects from Homer to Dante, who built up such a rich treasury of education. It is by their observations on nature and revelation that we learn of the Logos.
We live in the age of the anti-logos. Modernity is a rejection. The second half of the great books, “the moderns,” from Machiavelli to present, largely represents a deconstruction of any belief in an ordered whole of creation. While there are certainly good modern thinkers, such as Cardinal Newman or Pope Benedict XVI, the main trait of our modern age is rejection. Man no longer turns to God, revelation, nature, or history for guidance, but rather these become malleable to man’s creative will. Each man becomes his own god, his own “Logos,” who believes reality should conform to the “truth” of his own imagination. We live in an anti-culture—our dominative tutelage in the unreal. We live in a post-Christian paganism that no longer even adheres to the natural logos of Socrates or Aristotle. The sin of our age, as Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI noted, is the sin against the Creator.[19] Man now makes his own reality and demands others adhere to it—the dictatorship of relativism.
Let us reclaim our culture. Let us reclaim our education by turning to the teachers of what is real, those who may help us—in this age of the unreal—conform our minds to Reason-itself, the Eternal Logos, Jesus Christ.
In this episode Adam and Deacon Garlick discuss:
We are all disciples of someone.
Many are disciples of Nietzsche or of Locke without ever having read them.
*This is why we read the great books.*
We read to know the origin of ideas and to take ownership of our own intellect.
To not be unknowing slaves.
Deacon Harrison Garlick and Adam Minihan introduce themselves and explain why they are starting this project.
En liten tjänst av I'm With Friends. Finns även på engelska.