The ransom of Hector is thus a journey into “darkness and death” and a “return to life and light.” In such a context it would {153|154} be natural to find the root nes-, and this is in fact the case. The root is present in the word nóos, which is used repeatedly in the passage describing the initial encounter between Priam and Hermes. From a traditional standpoint, the entrance into the underworld would have been characterized by a loss of nóos, and the return to life by a regaining of nóos. Both of these phases, however, seem to have been compressed within the initial encounter; at first Priam and his charioteer, surprised by Hermes’ approach, feel threatened, but when they realized that Hermes intends no harm, this feeling gives way to a sense of “salvation.”

In the space of twenty-odd lines the word nóos occurs four times. When the charioteer notices Hermes lurking nearby, he says to Priam (354):

Priam, realizing that “real” death may be close at hand, is described as follows (358):

In this line one sees Priam’s initial loss of nóos. When Hermes reveals his friendly intentions, he reinforces the idea that to venture forth without an adequate guide will involve a loss of nóos; so, from a traditional standpoint, one may interpret his question to Priam (366–367):

When Priam realizes that Hermes will guide him to “salvation,” he himself uses the word nóos, this time in a compliment to his guide (374 ff.):

The frequency and the nature of the use of the word nóos can hardly be accidental in this episode.

Given this overall context, it becomes significant that the words nóos and noéō play a prominent part in the passage in which Diomedes first volunteers for the adventure. After offering himself, he asks for a companion, giving the following explanation for his request (224 ff.):

Diomedes then chooses Odysseus as his companion; in commenting on the value of Odysseus’ intelligence, Diomedes provides us with a collocation of the verbs nostéō and noéō (246–247):

In this episode once again, the choice of language must have something to do with a traditional connection between the words nóos and néomai.

With this discussion of Iliad 10 and 24 we may now leave Homer, in order to consider briefly how the same etymological connection may have survived even after Homer’s time. A natural place to begin is with the cults to Helios; unfortunately, however, these cults are for the most part as prehistoric as the connection {156|157} to be investigated. Nevertheless, one such cult survived on the island of Rhodes, and, although little is known about it, a legend has been preserved by Pindar which concerns the origins of the special honor paid to Helios on this island. Pindar gives the legend in Olympian 7. He says that the legend is old (ll. 54–55), and the main points of his account are as follows. When Zeus and the other gods first divided the earth among themselves, Helios, being absent, did not receive a lot. But when Zeus offered to reapportion the earth, Helios refused, for he had seen an island—Rhodes—rising out of the sea, and he wanted this to be his share. Thus Helios obtained Rhodes, made love to her, and sired seven sons, one of whom was to sire, in turn, the eponymous heroes of the three Rhodian cities.

With this hierarchy of generations, the legend indicates its own antiquity. What is significant for our purposes is that the word nóēma, “mind,” appears in connection with the oldest phase, the seven sons of Helios himself. Pindar says that these seven sons “inherited” from Helios “the wisest noḗmata among former men.” The passage (ll. 71 ff.) reads as follows:

Through the derivative form nóēma, the word nóos is thus indirectly attested in the context of a Greek cult of the sun. It also seems possible to read the meaning “return to light” of the root nes– into Pindar’s account. The very emergence of Rhodes from the sea is described as a “return from darkness to light”: at first the island lay “hidden in the depths” (en bénthesin … kekrúphthai, l.57), and it was then “sent into the radiant ether” {157|158} (phaennòn es aithéra … pemphtheĩsan, l. 67). This “return to light” provides the context in which to understand the reputation for nóos of the island’s first children.

Such is the scanty—but significant—evidence provided by Greek sun worship, which for the most part was quicker to die than the epic tradition. Where the influence of both, insofar as nóos is concerned, might be expected to have survived is in the Greek philosophical tradition. It would require another study, of another kind, to investigate the importance of sun symbolism in Greek philosophical though. Here, therefore, I wish to draw attention to only two contexts where a precise connection between nóos and néomai, both signifying “return to life and light” is suggested.

In view of this sun symbolism, it is significant that the verb used to designate the philosopher’s “journey to light” is néomai, a verb which appears nowhere else in the pre-Socratic corpus. At the gates of day and night the philosopher is greeted by the goddess Díkē, “Justice,” who says that “it is not an evil destiny that sends you forth to return along this road which lies apart from the beaten track of men” (ll. 26–27):

The word nóos does not occur in the proem, but since the “return” is that of a philosopher, this hardly matters. Attention may be drawn to Parmenides’ use of the word “road” throughout the proem, because in subsequent fragments hodós is collocated {159|160} with both the verb noéō and the noun nóēma. Fragment 2 begins as follows:

and fragment 7 as follows:

Plato must have drawn on authentic tradition in connecting nóos with the return from the cave. But it is worth noticing the understated way in which Socrates permits the equation: oukh hamartḗsei tē̂s g’ emē̂s elpídos, “you will not miss my surmise.” This suggests to me that the equation may in some sense be real, but it also draws attention to the fact that the myth of the cave was introduced only as a comparison to the ascent of the spirit. {162|163} The gap between comparison and actual equation, which Plato to some extent blurs, nevertheless remains; I believe this gap is the gap between the classical Greek noũs and its primitive origins. {163|164}