[ back ] 1. See Leumann 1950:44–45 and Reece 2009 (passim) for discussion and bibliography on ἔχε νήδυμος ὕπνος as a variant interpretation of *ἔχεν ἥδυμος ὕπνος (cf. Iliad II 2, XIV 242, Odyssey iv 793, xii 311). This reinterpretation of *ἔχεν ἥδυμος occurred as aural features of the language, such as the disappearance of the digamma (*ἔχε [f]ήδυμος ὕπνος), led to innovations, such as the use of a “moveable nu” suffix to prevent hiatus (*ἔχεν ἥδυμος ὕπνος); over time, the nu came to be understood differently, in this case as an ṇ-privative prefix of ἥδυμος (*ἔχε ṇ-ήδυμος ὕπνος = ἔχε νήδυμος ὕπνος). These new words formed through “junctural metanalysis,” in Reece’s terminology, could themselves then became productive, such that we find νήδυμος deployed in situations where there is no issue of hiatus, as at Iliad Χ 187 (τῶν νήδυμος ὕπνος) and XIV 354 (Ἀχαιῶν νήδυμος ὕπνος).

[ back ] 2. At Iliad II 2, X 2, and XXIV 678 ηὗδον παννύχιοι occurs in the same metrical (line-initial) position. The formula is highly flexible for, though it describes the same situation in each instance—everyone is sleeping except for one character—the wakeful character is different on each occasion: Zeus, Agamemnon, and Hermes (who rouses Priam and drives him home from Achilles’ tent while the Greeks are still asleep).

[ back ] 3. Here my formulation differs slightly from Wolfgang Kullmann’s assessment in his penetrating essay “Past and Future in the Iliad” where he concludes: “Thus the present event is not experienced in the present and as a fact: it becomes a confirmation of something that has already announced itself in the past, and a sign of the future” (2001:407).

[ back ] 4. Iliad I 5 posits the Διὸς βουλή as the name for the epic’s plot: Διὸς δ’ ἐτελείτο βουλή ‘the plan of Zeus was accomplished’. For further discussion, see Bassett 1922, Redfield 1979, Murnaghan 1997, and Clay 1999 with further bibliography.

[ back ] 5. The triple repetition of the command within such a short space has drawn much criticism, dating back at least as far as Zenodotus, who is said to have ‘condensed’ (συντέτμηκεν) Iliad II 60–71 to a two-verse summary: ἠνώγει σε πατὴρ ὑψίζυγος, αἰθέρι ναίων, | Τρωσὶ μαχήσασθαι προτὶ Ἴλιον. ὣς ὁ μὲν εἰπών | ᾤχετ’ ἀποπτάμενος. ‘Father Zeus, who sits on high and dwells in the ether, commands you | to make war with the Trojans at the gates of Ilion. Thus speaking | [Dream] flew off and departed’ (Scholia A at Iliad II 60–71, Erbse). In his edition of the Iliad, Leaf felt that “the third repetition of the message is really too much” and approved of Zenodotus’ more concise version (1900–1902:53). Kirk offers useful analysis, noting both that the repetition is appropriate to the “oral style” and more importantly, that the repetition of these verses is particularly appropriate, “since they are part of an emphatic development in the action” (1985:121–122).

[ back ] 6. Homer’s references to events of the Trojan War that fall outside of the narrative scope of the Iliad were controversial even in antiquity. Readers have long argued that certain features of the text, such as the Catalogue of Ships, the Teikhoskopia, and the duel between Menelaus and Paris, refer more properly to the beginning of the conflict than its tenth year. For instance, Aristotle criticized the chronological verisimilitude of the Teikhoskopia as ‘illogical’ (ἄλογον), because he found it unlikely that after ten years of war Helen would not yet know the whereabouts of her brothers (Aristotle fr. 147, Rose; cf. Iliad ΙΙΙ 236–244). Likewise, Heraclides Ponticus called the episode and Helen’s ignorance of Castor’s and Pollux’s deaths ‘unbelievable’ (ἀπίθανον εἶναι δοκεῖ ἐννέα ἐτῶν διελθόντων τοῖς Ἕλλησιν ἐν Ἰλίῳ μηδένα τῶν βαρβάρων ἀπαγγεῖλαι τῇ Ἑλένῃ περὶ τῶν ἀδελφῶν, ‘It seems to be unbelievable that nine years have passed for the Greeks in Ilion without anyone of the foreigners announcing to Helen about her brothers’, fr. 172, Wehrli). More generally, Aristotle describes how Homer introduces material from beyond the scope of the Iliad to break up the narrative into episodes: ‘And now taking up one part, [Homer] makes use of many episodes [of other parts of the war], such as the catalogue of ships and other episodes with which he breaks up his poem’ (νῦν δ’ ἕν μέρος ἀπολαβὼν ἐπεισοδίοις κέχρηται αὐτῶν πολλοῖς οἷον νεῶν καταλόγῳ καὶ ἄλλοις ἐπεισοδίοις [δὶς] διαλαμβάνει τὴν ποίησιν, Poetics XXIII 1459a35–37, Kassel). Modern scholars have likewise been troubled over temporal verisimilitude of the events narrated in the Iliad. For instance, van Leeuwen 1911 argued that the entire war could have taken place in a few months, and the “original” version of the Iliad told the story of this short war—however, later interpolations falsified the original into a ten-year war (discussion at Scott 1913, Foster 1914). For other scholars, Homer makes “allusions” to the entire war, thereby introducing anachronistic moments into his narrative of the tenth-year of fighting: see, for instance, Whitman 1958:39–45, Reckford 1964:7–9, Kakridis 1971:32, Bergren 1980:19–20, Schein 1984:19–25, Edwards 1987:188–197, Taplin 1992:83–109, 257–284, Dué 2002:39–40, and Dowden 2004:201–202.

[ back ] 7. Goodwin 1893:77–78 (§232–234).

[ back ] 8. Indeed, Agamemnon calculates that the Achaean army outnumbers the Trojan men at a ratio of greater than ten to one (Iliad II 123–128), a fact that cannot but bring shame to the Achaeans, as Rabel 1997 points out: “Thinking that he will conclude the war by taking Troy on the very day that begins in Book 2 (Iliad II 37), Agamemnon tries to shame the Argives into renewing their commitment to the war” (61).

[ back ] 9. On interpreting verbal adjectives in *-το- of compound verbs (here a negative compound of ἀ-πράσσω), see my discussion in the Introduction above with examples and bibliography.

[ back ] 10. Agamemnon’s leadership has long been the source of debate, especially since his rhetoric produces a different effect than he anticipated. Whitman 1982 perceptively observed, “The troops do not know what [Agamemnon] is up to—and neither do most of the commentators” (73). Similarly, Heiden 1991 states, “the precise motives of this plan remain somewhat obscure despite much scholarly discussion” (4). A sample of the interpretations of Agamemnon’s speech Whitman and Heiden have in mind includes: Leaf 1900–1902:46–47 (at Iliad II 73), Sheppard 1922:26, Dodds 1968:16 (who speaks of a “conflation of variants, as in the Diapeira”), Beye 1966:123 and 1993:117–118, Willcock 1976:18 (at Iliad II 73–74), and Kirk 1985:122–123 (at Iliad II 73–75). For a survey of literature on this scene, see Knox and Russo 1989.

[ back ] 11. Liddell, Scott, and Jones 1996:1594, s.v. σήπω II.

[ back ] 12. See Iliad XIX 27: κατὰ δὲ χρόα πάντα σαπήῃ; Iliad XXIV 414: χρὼς σήπεται. See my Appendix below for a study of the semantic field of ‘decay’ in early Greek poetry.

[ back ] 13. For van Thiel’s edition of the Homeric D Scholia, see van Thiel 2000b. For a thorough discussion of the sources of the D Scholia, see van Thiel 2000a.

[ back ] 14. The noun οὐρός ‘launching channel’ in this verse (οὐρούς, Iliad II 153) is a Homeric hapax legomenon, but is cognate with the verb ὀρύσσω ‘to dig, dig up’ (compare Chantraine 1968–1980 and Frisk 1973–1979, s.v. οὐρός). Scholia D ad loc. (van Thiel) defines οὐροί as ‘dug-out trenches by means of which ships are dragged down to the sea’ (ταφροειδῆ ὀρύγματα δι᾿ ὧν αἱ νῆες καθέλκονται εἰς τὴν θάλασσαν). See further Ebeling 1963:II.113, s.v. οὐρός.

[ back ] 15. On this point, see Cook 2003 on the pain of separation from family as driving the Achaeans to abandon the war.

[ back ] 16. Shouting is regularly used as an indication of a warrior’s eagerness for battle: compare Iliad XI 10–14 where the goddess Eris shouts (ἤϋσε, XI 10) and when the Achaeans hear it, “for them war became sweeter than to return in their hollow ships to the dear land of their fathers” (XI 13–14).

[ back ] 17. See Dougherty 2001:19–37, 189–192 for a comparison between the composition of Achaean ships and the composition of Homeric poetry, both of which are described as stitched together. See further my discussion on the temporal significance of joints enabling an object to remain standing upright (ἔμπεδος) in chapter 2 below.

[ back ] 18. Leaf 1900–1902:I.58, quoting Varro: “Varro, perhaps rightly, took the word [sc. σπάρτα] to mean thongs used to bind the timbers together: Liburni plerasque naves loris suebant : Graeci magis cannabo et stupa, caeterisque sativis rebus, a quibus σπάρτα appellabant [‘The Liburnians used to sew together the greater number of their ships by means of leather thongs: the Greeks more often used hemp and flax, and other cultivated materials, from which they were called σπάρτα’, (my translation-LG)] (Varro apud Aulus Gellius Attic Nights 17.3). This suits the context better than to take σπάρτα = cables, a less vital matter.” Varro’s point is that the σπάρτα are ropes made from cultivated plants, whether hemp or flax or broom; he hints at an etymological connection between σπάρτα ‘ropes’ and σπαρτά ‘plants cultivated from seed’. More important for our purpose, however, is the fact that he speaks of these σπάρτα as being used to sew together a ships’ timbers (naves … suebant). On this point, compare Pliny Natural History 24.65: dubito an haec [sc. genista] sit quam Graeci auctores sparton appellavere … et numquid hanc designaverit Homerus, cum dixit navium sparta dissoluta. nondum enim fuisse Hispanum Africanumve spartum in usu certum est et, cum fierent sutiles naves, lino tamen, non sparto umquam sutas, ‘I have my doubts whether this plant [sc. broom] is what the Greek writers have called sparton, … I also doubt whether Homer has alluded to this plant, when he said that the sparta of the ships disintegrated. For it is certain that in those times the spartum of Spain or Africa was not yet in use, and that when vessels were sewn together, they were stitched with flax, never with spartum .’ Here, too, what is important is the note that ships are constructed through sewing together their constituent parts. See further Aeschylus Suppliants 134–135 and its metaphorical description of a ship as ‘a linen-stitched house of wood that keeps out the salt sea’ (λινορραφής τε | δόμος ἅλα στέγων δορός). An ancient scholia at Aeschylus’ Suppliants (134–135, Smith) explains: ‘linen-sewn house of wood—i.e. a ship. They used to drill ships and sew them together with cords of sparta . And the phrase in Homer ‘fixing ships’ indicates the sewing them together’ (λινορραφὰς δόμος δορός· ἡ ναῦς, παρόσον τρυπῶντες τὰς ναῦς σπάρτοις αὐτὰς συνέρραπτον. καὶ τὸ παρ᾿ Ὁμήρῳ νῆας ἀκειόμενον τὸ συρράπτοντα δηλοῖ). Dougherty 2001:19–37, 189–192 draws similarities between the composition of ships and the composition of poetry in early Greek poetry. Her argument relies on the comparison between the “sewing together” of component parts in compositions. I find Dougherty’s comparison of great interest, and—though she does not carry the analogy so far—the questions her analogy raises: namely, what “shipwreck”—so common a theme, especially in the Odyssey and the Nostoi tradition at large—might mean for the early Greek concept of poetry. In other words, can we think of a poem that becomes unstitched over time, or one that is no longer “sea-worthy” or can no longer effectively carry its cargo? Can a poem or perhaps an entire poetic tradition be conceived of as becoming disarticulated over time?

[ back ] 19. In her penetrating study of the term νήπιος in Greek epic diction, Edmunds 1990 cites this passage (Iliad II 289–290) and notes that “children are grouped with women to form a class of those who are ineffectual. To compare a warrior to a woman is an insult. … men are called ‘like women and children’ because they are behaving in an unwarriorlike fashion” (4). Scott 1974 notes several passages (Iliad II 289, 337–341, XI 389, 560–561, XIII 470, Odyssey iv 32, xxi 282) in which warriors are likened to children, and argues that “in each case a character is doing something which is odd, inept, or unbefitting the person” (74).

[ back ] 20. On the connection between those who cannot speak or communicate ineffectively and the social outcast, Edmunds 1990 notes: “The typically νήπιος figure lives in a fragmented and dangerous world, in danger of becoming an orphan and consequently a social outcast, or failing to observe the laws of hospitality; he or she is outside the web of human interconnections. Furthermore, the νήπιος person is unable to put together inferences from the past or signs that reveal the future and is thus trapped in the ephemera” (98).

[ back ] 21. The interpretation of this line is difficult. Leaf 1900–1902:I.70, following K. Lehrs De Aristarchi studiis Homericis (Leipzig, 1865) 74, took the line to mean “truly here is toil to make a man return disheartened,” and argued that the ἦ μὴν καί “introduces an excuse” why the men are no longer willing to fight. This reading seems to fit with the sense of the following verses (II 292–297). However, as Kirk 1985:147 points out, Leaf’s interpretation creates problems with II 297–298 where Odysseus argues why the men should not return home. It seems better, therefore, to translate Iliad II 291 as I have here, and understand ἦ μὴν καὶ πόνος as indicating that although it is difficult work (πόνος) to stay and fight, it is equally difficult to return home empty-handed (κενεόν, II 298) after waiting so long (δηρόν τε μένειν, II 298).

[ back ] 22. See Fuchs 2005b:196 on the experience of temporal “acceleration” as a cause of impatience: “While implicit temporality is characterized by synchronization with others, explicit temporality arises in states of desynchronization (acceleration or retardation): It is mainly by discrepancies or separations from others to whom our lived time is primarily related that we experience the irreversibility and the rule of time. … Acceleration of one’s time in relation to the environment may be experienced as impatience, pressure, or dysphoric agitation.” On implicit and explicit temporality, see my discussion in the Introduction above.

[ back ] 23. Adkins views αἰσχρός as an indication of failure within a context of a culture that values “results”: see Adkins 1960, 1971, 1972, 1982 (esp. p313). See further Long 1970, esp. 124n9, arguing that “intention,” though denied by Adkins, must be considered a constitutive element in shame, especially in Odysseus’ speech here at Iliad II 284–332 where he exhorts the Achaeans not to give up and go home. On the conception of ancient Greece as a “shame culture,” see Dodds 1951 and Williams 1993. For a different perspective, see Hooker 1987 who argues that aidōs originally indicated “respect” instead of “shame.”

[ back ] 24. I punctuate this text after Allen (1931) instead of following West (1998–2000), who seems to want to read χθιζά τε καὶ πρωΐζ᾿ with φέρουσαι: ‘whomever the spirits of death have not come to carry away yesterday or the day before’. In support of my reading, see Leaf 1900–1902:I.71 (comment at Iliad II 303): “the principle verb is ἔφανη (308) … In this case, the phrase is used to make light of the long duration of the war, ‘it is as it were but yesterday, when,’ etc.”

[ back ] 25. The perfect οἶδα ‘I know’ (ἴδμεν = first person plural perfect active indicative, with poetic use of the plural) and aorist εἶδον ‘I saw’ are both from the same root verb unattested in the present tense in Greek (*εἴδω: compare Latin video). The perfect οἶδα retains a sense of visual basis, as knowledge itself is based on vision. Compare Iliad II 484–486 where the poet notes the Muses’ knowledge based on their omnipresence and vision (πάρεστέ τε, ἴστέ τε πάντα ‘you are present and know all things’) as opposed to human knowledge, which is based entirely on hearing second-hand report (ἡμεῖς δὲ κλέος οἶον ἀκούομεν, οὐδε τε ἴδμεν ‘but we hear only report, and do not know’).

[ back ] 26. On deixis in Homeric poetry as signaling “immediacy,” see Bakker 1999 and 2005 (especially chapter 5), with bibliography.