The Center for Hellenic Studies

Homer’s Versicolored Fabric: The Evocative Power of Ancient Greek Epic Word-Making

  Bonifazi, Anna. 2012. Homer's Versicolored Fabric: The Evocative Power of Ancient Greek Epic Word-making. Hellenic Studies Series 50. Washington, DC: Center for Hellenic Studies. http://nrs.harvard.edu/urn-3:hul.ebook:CHS_Bonifazi.Homers_Versicolored_Fabric.2012.

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












  Αὖ Αὖτε (+ αὖτ’, αὖθ’) and δηὖτε Αὐτάρ
Iliad 76 205 361
Odyssey 92 158 409
Homeric Hymns 7 14 67
Hesiodic poetry 28 25 51
Iambic poetry — 3 —
Elegiac poetry 5 2 11
Lyric poetry 14 30 3
Total 222 437 902

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

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

αὖτις

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

… δέελον δ’ ἐπὶ σῆμά τ’ ἔθηκε
συμμάρψας δόνακας μυρίκης τ’ ἐριθηλέας ὄζους,
μὴ λάθοι αὖτις ἰόντε θοὴν διὰ νύκτα μέλαιναν.

Iliad 10.466–468; the primary speaking ‘I’ to the audience

… and he prepared an evident sign
by bundling together reeds and twigs of blooming tamarisk
in order not to miss it on the way back, during the dark night, swift-descending.


αὖτις refers to a piece of information concerning the narrated state of affairs: Odysseus and Diomedes will, at some point, have to come back to get Dolon’s spoils (cf. 526–531). This information is not semantically optional. Not by chance, then, does αὖτις occur in mid-sentence position and in a subordinate clause. [2] αὖτις presupposes a visual component: the producer and the receiver of the message imagine the movement that Odysseus and Diomedes will have to accomplish “back” to the same place.

An analogous representational case of αὖτις contributing to the propositional content concerns a temporal relation (“again”):

ὁππότε δ’ ἄνθεσι γαῖ’ εὐώδε[σιν] ἠαρινο[ῖσι]
παντοδαποῖς θάλλει, τότ’ ἀπὸ ζόφου ἠερόεντος
αὖτις ἄνει μέγα θαῦμα θεοῖς θνητοῖς τ’ ἀνθρώποις.

Homeric Hymn II to Demeter 401–403; Demeter to Persephone {264|265}

But when the earth blooms with fragrant flowers of spring,
all sorts of them, then from cloudy gloom
you rise again, great wonder for the gods and for the mortal human beings.


The idea of temporal return and of witnessing the appearance of something already known from the past is clear. [3] The semantic—and lexical—link to the activation of memory, which sometimes occurs together with αὖτις, [4] confirms that resuming thoughts and procedures is central to the cognitive process triggered by the adverb.

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

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

δεύτερον αὖτε Ζῆνα θεῶν πατέρ’ ἠδὲ καὶ ἀνδρῶν,
[ἀρχόμεναί θ’ ὑμνεῦσι θεαὶ † λήγουσαί τ’ ἀοιδῆς,]
ὅσσον φέρτατός ἐστι θεῶν κάρτει τε μέγιστος·
αὖτις δ’ ἀνθρώπων τε γένος κρατερῶν τε Γιγάντων …

Hesiod Theogony 47–50; the primary speaking ‘I’ to the audience

Second, then, they sing about Zeus, father of gods as well as of men,
[goddesses start and sing hymns and stop the song]
how strong he [Zeus] is, among gods, for his power, and the greatest.
Then, [the Muses sing about] the generation of the humans and of the powerful Giants …


In this case, αὖτις occupies the initial sentence position; in genealogies, αὖτις has, I argue, the same presentational function. [6]

Another relevant presentational function shared by αὖ/αὖτε and αὖτις concerns speech-introductory formulas, as in the following example:

ὣς ἔφαθ’, οἱ δ’ ἄρα πάντες ἐπώμνυον, ὡς ἐκέλευεν.
[αὐτὰρ ἐπεί ῥ’ ὄμοσάν τε τελεύτησάν τε τὸν ὅρκον,]
τοῖς δ’ αὖτις μετέειφ’ ἱερὴ ἲς Τηλεμάχοιο·

Odyssey 18.58–60; the primary speaking ‘I’ to the audience

So he [Odysseus] spoke. They [the suitors] all swore as he suggested.
Then, as they swore and completed the oath,
among them, again, said the sacred strength of Telemachus …


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

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

What is the discourse function of αὖτις when it occurs following a speech and discourse has moved on (“So X spoke. Then …”)? We have seen in chapter 4 that the phrase τὸν δ’ αὖ/αὖτε and the like, for example, very often cause a visual shift to what happens “on the other side” of the visual field. Does αὖτις have a similar effect? Does αὖτις have a propositional meaning instead (unlike αὐτάρ, αὖ, and αὖτε)? The answer is: yes, sometimes it has the same effect, and yes, sometimes it has a propositional meaning; but it also does something different. The discriminating factors are, I submit, the particle(s) and the adverb(s) that co-occur. Generally speaking, the range of functions of αὖτις and the hybrid status of this word in several phrases is not surprising: Homeric diction includes variation and multiformity [9] also at this level; the balance between presentational and representational uses, the attraction between certain adverbs and certain particles reinforcing possibly different meanings is part of the flexibility of such a language. The “diachronic depth,” to use Bakker’s terms, of Homeric poetry also plays a significant role, of course. However, it is difficult to deduce from the archaic texts any element concerning the semantic evolution of words such as αὖτις from its origins. [10] Let us now return to αὖτις occurring after “So X spoke” {267|268} clauses. As I already pointed out in chapter 4, the employment of αὐ-discourse markers is very high in such contexts. [11] I remark that while αὖ/αὖτε match only δέ (δ’ αὖ, δ’ αὖτε), αὖτις matches also μέν. The following example shows ὃ μὲν αὖτις as a phrase paralleling τὸν δ’αὖ(τε) and the like. Menelaus has just urged Antilochus to advance and kill some Trojans:

Ὣς εἰπὼν ὃ μὲν αὖτις ἀπέσσυτο, τὸν δ’ ὀρόθυνεν·
ἐκ δ’ ἔθορε προμάχων …

Iliad 15.572–573; the primary speaking ‘I’ to the audience

After saying that, [on the one hand] he [Menelaus] hurried away; he was rousing him [Antilochus].
And [on the other hand] he [Antilochus] leapt up from the fighters … {268|269}


After a discourse act that marks the end of direct speech (ὣς εἰπὼν), the narration moves on by following two visual threads: the former concerns what Menelaus does—ὃ μὲν αὖτις ἀπέσσυτο, τὸν δ’ ὀρόθυνεν—while the latter concerns what Antilochus does—ἐκ δ’ ἔθορε προμάχων. In this way, the receiver is directed to focus separately on the two subjects. There is, consequently, no need to translate “[Menelaus] hastened back,” as αὖτις is simply a discourse marker by means of which the narration is caught up and follows a first thread of the story. μέν signals that a second thread of the story will follow (δ’, 573; Antilochus is, in fact, the main actor until 590). Therefore, αὖτις may have a presentational, rather than a propositional, meaning. [12] Analogously, when in Iliad 20 the primary speaking ‘I’ finishes reporting Apollo’s words addressed to Hector (376–378), he switches to Hector as the next visual and thematic target (ὣς ἔφαθ’, Ἕκτωρ δ’ αὖτις …, 379), and then he switches again to Achilles (ἐν δ’ Ἀχιλεύς, 381). [13]

Even beyond marking either upcoming or just ended direct speeches, αὖτις can be used to signal narrative boundaries, in particular to introduce new sections of the story. In this sense, αὖτις can be said to identify a new thread of the story that is going to be followed; again, the thread is thematic and visual at once:

αὐτὰρ ἐπεί τοι πάντα κατὰ χρέος ἤνυσε δαίμων
σάνδαλα μὲν προέηκεν ἐς Ἀλφειὸν βαθυδίνην,
ἀνθρακιὴν δ’ ἐμάρανε, κόνιν δ’ ἀμάθυνε μέλαιναν
παννύχιος· καλὸν δὲ φόως κατέλαμπε Σελήνης. {269|270}
Κυλλήνης δ’ αἶψ’ αὖτις ἀφίκετο δῖα κάρηνα
ὄρθριος, …

Homeric Hymn IV to Hermes 138–143; the primary speaking ‘I’ to the audience

Then, when the divinity [Hermes] accomplished everything as was required,
he cast off the sandals into deep-flowing Alpheus,
he dampened the embers, covered the black ash with sand,
all night long. The beautiful light of Selene shone down.
Then, he reached the glittering summits of mount Kyllene,
early in the morning …


Analogously to αὐτάρ at 138, αὖτις—or, better, the phrase δ’ αἶψ’ αὖτις (142)—marks the next step of the narration. [14] There is continuity at the level of the subject, but discontinuity in the setting: the teller switches from Hermes-by-the-river to Hermes-on-the-mountain. [15]

One more instance of an αὖτις that works not at the propositional level but at a level that is partially presentational and partially interactional can be added. In some cases, αὖτις seems to zoom in on a specific moment of the story or a specific action (even though it might not imply any visual shift), and it cues that the upcoming event will be crucial or exciting. In translation, this use of αὖτις might correspond to “immediately” or “on the spot”; I would even suggest an expression such as “here is what happened.” As I will show, αὐτίκα is typically employed to convey this function. {270|271}

αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ δὴ τῶν γε νόον νημερτέ’ ἀνέγνω,
ἐξαῦτίς σφ’ ἐπέεσσιν ἀμειβόμενος προσέειπεν·
ἔνδον μὲν δὴ ὅδ’ αὐτὸς ἐγώ, …

Odyssey 21.205–207; the primary speaking ‘I’ to the audience; Odysseus to Eumaeus and Philoetius

So, when Odysseus recognized their [Eumaeus’ and Philoetius’] truthful intentions,
here we are: he replied to their words by uttering:
Here is this one, the real one, it is me …


In this instance, what happens is a major event: Odysseus’ revelation to the two loyal servants. Note, too, that ἐξαῦτις introducing the main clause comes after an αὐτὰρ ἐπεί-clause. [16] In other passages αὖτις or ἐξαῦτις [17] mark less important moments, but still some excitement may be inferred. [18] More precisely, those are instants in which the character in question is going to give a specific turn to his/her actions or to his/her behavior, with exciting consequences to the story. A hint of emotional discontinuity is added to the presentational value. [19]

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

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

αὐτίκα

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

An initial representational (or propositional) use will permit me to introduce a major feature characterizing Homeric αὐτίκα. Sometimes αὐτίκα occurs in direct speeches and is the equivalent of “now”: the specific moment being identified coincides with the hic et nunc of the utterance; [24] the one who identifies it is the speaking “I” whose verbal trace is clear. An example is the following:

εἰ μὲν γὰρ τοὺς πάγχυ κακὰ φρονέων ἀλαπάζει
Ζεὺς ὑψιβρεμέτης, Τρώεσσι δὲ ἵετ’ ἀρήγειν,
ἦ τ’ ἂν ἔγωγ’ ἐθέλοιμι καὶ αὐτίκα τοῦτο γενέσθαι,
νωνύμνους ἀπολέσθαι ἀπ’ Ἄργεος ἐνθάδ’ Ἀχαιούς·

Iliad 12.67–70; Polydamas to Hector and the Trojans

For if high-thundering Zeus meditates evils and
destroys them completely, and sends support to the Trojans,
sure, I personally would like for this to happen at this very moment,
that the Achaeans perish here inglorious, away from Argos.


The speaking “I”—that is, Polydamas (see the “I” marks ἔγωγ’ ἐθέλοιμι, 69)—identifies the specific moment at which he would like the Trojans to be destroyed, which coincides with the “now” of the mythical past, as it is revived through direct speech. [25] I argue that several instances of αὐτίκα that are uttered by the primary speaking ‘I’—who is almost never explicitly marked by an “I” mark throughout the two poems—share the same fundamental pragmatic property: they refer to the “now” of the mythical past that is being reenacted. The performing “I”—or reenacting “I,” to use Nagy’s terms [26] —shows the identification of a specific moment at which something happens to be in in full accord with what the character recognizes and identifies; there is no break. The performer makes the identified moments coincide: “at that very moment” and “in this very moment” overlap. This is further evidence of the Homeric enargeia {274|275} of which Bakker writes; αὐτίκα is another means of “pretended immediacy.” [27] Let us consider the following passage, which tells about Meriones and other Achaeans cutting wood for Patroclus’ cremation:

ἀλλ’ ὅτε δὴ κνημοὺς προσέβαν πολυπίδακος Ἴδης,
αὐτίκ’ ἄρα δρῦς ὑψικόμους ταναήκεϊ χαλκῷ
τάμνον ἐπειγόμενοι· ταὶ δὲ μεγάλα κτυπέουσαι
πῖπτον· …

Iliad 23.117–120; the primary speaking ‘I’ to the audience

So, when they came to the hills of Ida of many springs,
here we are: they eagerly cut oak trees of lofty foliage
with bronze of long edge. And the trees fell
with great crashes …


The identification of the moment at which the men start cutting oak trees is simultaneously the “then” of the mythical past and the “now” of the reenactment; we could paraphrase the passage by saying, “And then there is the moment in which they reach mount Ida; now—here they are—they cut oak trees, and the trees fall down.” [28] Discourse markers δή (117) and ἄρα (118) contribute to the vividness of the visualization. [29] Does αὐτίκα in this case work as a discourse marker or not? Certainly, translations such as “immediately” are not out of place. However, “immediately,” especially in mid-sentence position, modifies the content by qualifying the narrated event as happening without any intervening time or space, whereas what I am proposing is an interpretive shift from how events are supposed to have happened to the narrative presentation of events. [30] {275|276} In the cited passage, for example, I highlight a presentational value of αὐτίκα not only because of its syntactically optional status, but also—and mainly—because it bears comparison to a number of similar instances, which I will now introduce.

My argument is that all the presentational uses of αὐτίκα in early epic poetry arise from the identification of a specific moment in which something happens; it is the subjective “now” of the identification that matters, rather than the objective state of a present event. The following speech of Thetis shows that αὐτίκα can refer neither to a deictic “now” nor to a propositional “immediately”:

ὠκύμορος δή μοι τέκος ἔσσεαι, οἷ’ ἀγορεύεις·
αὐτίκα γάρ τοι ἔπειτα μεθ’ Ἕκτορα πότμος ἑτοῖμος.

Iliad 18.95–96; Thetis to Achilles

You are a swift-fated child, as you are declaring.
Now it is clear to me: after Hector, doom is ready for you.


As much as Thetis here actively identifies what is going to happen, so the primary speaking ‘I’ elsewhere uses αὐτίκα as a organizational means to zoom in on specific moments of the story; he identifies something relevant that is going to happen in the story and singles it out. From the presentational perspective, αὐτίκα does not affect the quick accomplishment of the narrated states of affairs, but it does mark the excitement of some moments. In my view, two main types of excitement are signaled by αὐτίκα: what I call the propulsion of action, and what I call the magic of some instances. An exemplary case of the former is the beginning of book five of the Odyssey, when Zeus sends Hermes to Calypso:

ὣς ἔφατ’, οὐδ’ ἀπίθησε διάκτορος Ἀργεϊφόντης.
αὐτίκ’ ἔπειθ’ ὑπὸ ποσσὶν ἐδήσατο καλὰ πέδιλα,
ἀμβρόσια χρύσεια …

Odyssey 5.43–45; the primary speaking ‘I’ to the audience

So he [Zeus] spoke. And Hermes the guide did not disobey.
Now, see what happens: he bound upon his feet the beautiful sandals,
divine and golden …


The occurrence of ἔπειτα after αὐτίκα evokes αὐτὰρ ἔπειτα; however, only in a few instances does αὐτίκ’ ἔπειτα actually share the presentational function of αὐτὰρ {276|277} ἔπειτα—that is, to shift to a new setting. [31] Rather, αὐτίκ’ ἔπειτα tends to push the narration forward and to introduce excitedly a particular future action or the initiative being taken, as does αὐτίκα followed by δέ in numerous passages. [32] Strikingly, Erren (1970), who provides an inventory of the narrative points introduced by αὐτίκα, proposes an interpretive shift from the (propositional) temporal meaning to a narrative meaning—to its use, that is, in introducing what has been decided, which often deals with “attacking” or “engaging.” [33] In LfgrE, Führer cites H. F. Fränkel’s remark that αὐτίκα works more as a connective than as a temporal mark and underscores the narrator’s preoccupation with a successive chain of events. [34] αὐτίκα often sharing with αὐτάρ the function of indenting or sharing with αὖτε the function of shifting to the next interlocutor, [35] {277|278} becomes tinged with a nuance of excitement toward the upcoming event, along with a zooming-in effect: [36]

Αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ δὴ Φοῖβε κατέβρως ἄμβροτον εἶδαρ,
οὔ σέ γ’ ἔπειτ’ ἴσχον χρύσεοι στρόφοι ἀσπαίροντα,
οὐδ’ ἔτι δεσμά σ’ ἔρυκε, λύοντο δὲ πείρατα πάντα.
αὐτίκα δ’ ἀθανάτῃσι μετηύδα Φοῖβος Ἀπόλλων·
εἴη μοι κίθαρίς τε φίλη καὶ καμπύλα τόξα,
χρήσω δ’ ἀνθρώποισι Διὸς νημερτέα βουλήν.

Homeric Hymn III to Apollo 127–132; the primary speaking ‘I’ to the audience; Apollo to the gods

But when you, Phoebus, tasted the divine nutriment,
neither could the golden cords keep you while you were struggling,
nor could the bonds restrain you, all the ends went loose.
At that point [here is what happened], Phoebus Apollo said to the immortals:
“May the lyre and the curved bow be dear to me.
I will prophesy to humans beings the infallible counsel of Zeus.” {278|279}

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

The other kind of excitement grows out of very special moments of the story—and of the narration as well—in which what happens is less or more magical. Here, I cite two instances. First, the tragic instant in which Circe turns Odysseus’ companions into pigs:

αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ δῶκέν τε καὶ ἔκπιον, αὐτίκ’ ἔπειτα
ῥάβδῳ πεπληγυῖα κατὰ συφεοῖσιν ἐέργνυ.
οἱ δὲ συῶν μὲν ἔχον κεφαλὰς φωνήν τε τρίχας τε
καὶ δέμας, …

Odyssey 10.237–240; Odysseus to the Phaeacians

When she [Circe] gave them [the companions] this [the potion] and they drank it, [look what happens now!]
she struck them with a rod and drove them into the pigpens.
They had heads, voice, and hair of pigs,
and even their body …


Second, the description of Dionysus’ portents in Homeric Hymn VII :

οἶνος μὲν πρώτιστα θοὴν ἀνὰ νῆα μέλαιναν
ἡδύποτος κελάρυζ’ εὐώδης, ὤρνυτο δ’ ὀδμὴ
ἀμβροσίη· ναύτας δὲ τάφος λάβε πάντας ἰδόντας.
αὐτίκα δ’ ἀκρότατον παρὰ ἱστίον ἐξετανύσθη
ἄμπελος ἔνθα καὶ ἔνθα …

Homeric Hymn VII to Dionysus 35–39; the primary speaking ‘I’ to the audience

Wine, first of all, burbled over the fast black ship,
sweet to drink and fragrant; a divinely excellent smell
arose. Astonishment seized all the seamen who were watching it.
Then [look what happened], from the top of the sail a vine extended
here and there …


The marvels (θαυματὰ ἔργα, 34) that the sailors witness include the growth of the vines over the sails; αὐτίκα is the discourse marker that grammaticalizes the excitement/amazement of that special instant. [37] I read the αὐτίκα δ’ ἔγνω-phrases {279|280} as working in the same way; [38] moreover, they confirm the appropriateness of αὐ-terms—including αὐτός—in contexts of recognition of something previously unrecognized. As a group, these passages show some notable features of αὐτίκα: the visual component of the narrative discontinuity, [39] the temporal zooming-in effect, and the cognitive involvement at the level of emotional discontinuity. [40]

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

αὐτοῦ, αὖθι, and αὐτόθι

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

Let us begin with the seemingly opposite pair “here”–“there,” in its representational meanings. A first passage concerns “here” in direct speech: [41]

ἄμφω γὰρ πέπρωται ὁμοίην γαῖαν ἐρεῦσαι
αὐτοῦ ἐνὶ Τροίῃ …

Iliad 18.329–330; Achilles in front of Patroclus’ corpse

It is decreed, indeed, that both of us redden the same land,
here in Troy …


The deep sense of αὐτοῦ in this passage goes beyond indexicality; Achilles stresses the sameness of himself and Patroclus, which will include the place of death. Selfness is, also, poignantly relevant here: Achilles identifies and recognizes in the hic et nunc of the utterance that “here, in Troy” is also “right here”—that is, “the very place” where he will die. [42] {281|282}

δὴ τότε τοὺς ἄλλους κελόμην ἐρίηρας ἑταίρους
αὐτοῦ πὰρ νηΐ τε μένειν καὶ νῆα ἔρυσθαι·

Odyssey 9.193–194; Odysseus to the Phaeacians

Then I exhorted the rest of the trusty companions
to remain there by the ship and to guard it.


If we were to imagine Odysseus’ live, speaking voice, he would say, “you remain here by the ship and guard it.” “Here” in direct speech must, in principle, turn into “there” in indirect speech. However, the idea of (pretended) immediacy causes αὐτοῦ to function as a mark of (pretended) nearness. Of course, whenever the speaker using the adverb αὐτοῦ is Odysseus, the coincidence between “there” and “here” is highly reasonable: he is re-enacting the past events and re-experiencing them in the first person. [43] I submit that this principle does not change when the speaker using αὐτοῦ is not an internal character but is the primary speaking ‘I’. I have already cited an instance where αὐτίκα has the same effect. [44] Let us now cite a passage with αὐτοῦ:

μνηστῆρες δ’ ἀκάχοντο κατήφησάν τ’ ἐνὶ θυμῷ,
ἐκ δ’ ἦλθον μεγάροιο παρὲκ μέγα τειχίον αὐλῆς,
αὐτοῦ δὲ προπάροιθε θυράων ἑδριόωντο.

Odyssey 16.342–344; the primary speaking ‘I’ to the audience

The suitors were distressed and discomforted.
Once out of the hall, they reached the big wall of the court,
and there, before the entrance, they took seats.


The primary speaking ‘I’ sets the front of the palace gates near to himself and to the listeners at once; it is “there,” yet within the pretended immediacy, the place where Eurymachus and the others holds their brief assembly (345–357) is “here.”

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

In addition to these propositional uses, I have detected several instances that show the discourse relevance (and thus, the presentational and interactional uses) of αὐτοῦ, αὖθι, and αὐτόθι. This relevance springs from the identification of a place that is not so much where a certain event takes place, but rather an abstract place in the discourse memory. In a previous section, I argued that the same shift is at stake at the temporal level for αὐτίκα, when it sometimes means “at that time” and sometimes “here is what happened.” I would like to reinforce this point by analyzing another adverb of place that in Homeric poetry quite often works as a discourse marker: sentence initial ἔνθα. [48] Zeus has just been persuaded by Hera to let Sarpedon die at the hands of Patroclus. The scene then moves to the battlefield:

Οἳ δ’ ὅτε δὴ σχεδὸν ἦσαν ἐπ’ ἀλλήλοισιν ἰόντες,
ἔνθ’ ἤτοι Πάτροκλος ἀγακλειτὸν Θρασύμηλον,
ὅς ῥ’ ἠῢς θεράπων Σαρπηδόνος ἦεν ἄνακτος,
τὸν βάλε νείαιραν κατὰ γαστέρα, λῦσε δὲ γυῖα.

Iliad 16.462–465; the primary speaking ‘I’ to the audience

When the two of them came close to each other, {283|284}
at that point [zoom in on the details of the scene; here is what happened] Patroclus hit Thrasymelus,
who was the valiant assistant of lord Sarpedon;
he hit him at the lower part of the belly, and lossened his limbs.


Ἔνθα simply helps to process the upcoming discourse section, as the “place” of discourse memory becomes the “slot” to be devoted to the details of that particular fight (which involves Sarpedon’s death; see 462–507). Analogously, αὐτοῦ seems to mark a special or magic moment of the story. αὖθι and αὐτόθι do the same by specifically marking the instant of death of heroes. A first representative case is the description of the suitors’ reaction to the sight of shining Penelope descending to the hall:

τῶν δ’ αὐτοῦ λύτο γούνατ’, ἔρῳ δ’ ἄρα θυμὸν ἔθελχθεν

Odyssey 18.212; the primary speaking ‘I’ to the audience

And there [look what happened] their knees went slack; love’s charm seized their heart.


I have chosen this instance because the motif of the knees giving way often includes αὐτοῦ, which relates to the recognition of Odysseus’ true identity on three occasions. [49] A second passage is an equally formulaic expression used to narrate the instant of someone’s death.

… τοῦ δ’ αὖθι λύθη ψυχή τε μένος τε.

Iliad 5.296 = 8.123 and 315; the primary speaking ‘I’ to the audience

… And there, life and strength dissolved.


The narration of the instant of death often includes either αὖθι or αὐτόθι, in which the propositional reference to the exact place and the presentational/interactional reference to what happened at that moment finely overlap. [50] The {284|285} interactional component is given by the emotional discontinuity and emotional nearness (emotional immediacy?) conveyed through the choice of αὖθι, as in some instances of αὖ and αὖτε that I pointed out in chapter 4 (e.g. νῦν αὖ θάνατος καὶ μοῖρα κιχάνει, Iliad 17.478 = 672 = 22.436).

αὔτως

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

I will first outline the main significances that derive from αὐτός in its propositional value. [53] As Führer indirectly suggests, there is a continuum between the “inclusive” and the “exclusive” meanings of αὔτως. [54] In chapter 3, I have mentioned König’s distinction between inclusive and exclusive adverbial uses of intensifiers (e.g. “I’ve lost twice my wallet myself,” inclusive, vs. “I’ve cleaned the room myself [i.e. nobody helped me],” exclusive). In line with this distinction, the meanings of αὔτως underscoring sameness with respect to previously mentioned conditions are to be considered as inclusive, whereas those highlighting aloneness and “without-anything-else” are to be considered as exclusive. Exclusivity harmonizes with selfness, in fact: think, for example, of the uses of English “just” embracing “exactly,” “simply,” and “no more than.” The following passage shows an instance of αὔτως that resumes, at once, several {285|286} values of αὐτός discussed in chapter 3—namely, nakedness, being a corpse, being isolated/alone, being the very one, being unaltered (the same as before):

ἀλλ’ ἔτι κεῖνος κεῖται Ἀχιλλῆος παρὰ νηῒ
αὔτως ἐν κλισίῃσι· …

Iliad 24.412–413; Hermes to Priam

But that one [Hector] still lies beside Achilles’ ship,
just so, at the shelters … [55]


However, a remarkable feature of the Homeric use of αὔτως leads me to a pragmatic distinction. Of fifty-nine occurrences of αὔτως in the Homeric poems and in the Homeric Hymns, characters use the word in forty of them (67.79%), whereas the primary speaking ‘I’ uses the word in nineteen instances. In twelve cases, the latter are invariably constituted with the phrase ὣς δ’αὔτως starting the line, which works as a discourse marker, as I will show. Finally, in three of the seven remaining cases the primary speaking ‘I’ reports the internal thoughts of characters. This finding is extremely important, as it shows that in the majority of cases αὔτως may reflect something about the speaking manner of characters; or, in other words, it may signal a speaker’s attitude or even mood—which in general is not the case for the style of the primary speaking ‘I’. Indeed, the primary speaking ‘I’ uses mainly ὣς δ’αὔτως, a presentational mark of the next unit as a parallel or analogous one. [56] What are the contexts in which characters (either mortals or gods) use αὔτως? They are mostly of anything but rationality and calm; they express outrage or indignation or contempt for someone or other quite negative judgments. [57] Because these contexts are so emotionally charged, certain semantic and lexical domains are recurrent beside αὔτως, such as negations, privative a-, the adverb μάψ, ἐπεύχομαι as “boasting,” and νήπιος. [58] The latter case will be analyzed shortly. As an instance of outrage, I cite one of Odysseus’ furious comments about the suitors: {286|287}

βουλοίμην κ’ ἐν ἐμοῖσι κατακτάμενος μεγάροισι
τεθνάμεν ἢ τάδε γ’ αἰὲν ἀεικέα ἔργ’ ὁράασθαι,
ξείνους τε στυφελιζομένους δμῳάς τε γυναῖκας
ῥυστάζοντας ἀεικελίως κατὰ δώματα καλά,
καὶ οἶνον διαφυσσόμενον, καὶ σῖτον ἔδοντας
μὰψ αὔτως ἀτέλεστον, ἀνηνύστῳ ἐπὶ ἔργῳ.

Odyssey 16.106–111; Odysseus to Telemachus

If I were to be killed in my halls, I would prefer
to die rather than to watch these indecorous facts:
guests manhandling and maltreating serving women,
disgracefully, about the fine house,
and consuming wine, and eating food,
just rashly, fruitlessly, without accomplishing anything.


The presence of the adverb μάψ recalls ἄψ beside αὖτις—that is, a further adverb that reinforces the “with-no-point” meaning of the αὐ-adverb. Odysseus’ indignation ultimately rests on his personal recognition and evaluation of the situation he is facing. Sometimes, αὔτως seems to convey the same “with-no-point” meaning as a subjective judgment about the identification of what is truthful (as αὐτός conveys the recognition of the true core of someone or of something). [59] Quite often, such recognition manifestly implies a visual check. [60] In the following passage, again from Odyssey 16, Telemachus suggests to his father that testing the loyalty of the servants, as Odysseus had proposed (305–306) would take a long time, while the suitors would go on squandering the estate. Telemachus’ use of αὔτως summarizes both the uselessness of the test and the reliability of the knowledge Odysseus would gain by doing so; his father would really know who had remained loyal to him and who had not, but this would take too much time.

ἀλλ’ οὔ τοι τόδε κέρδος ἐγὼν ἔσσεσθαι ὀΐω
ἡμῖν ἀμφοτέροισι· σὲ δὲ φράζεσθαι ἄνωγα. {287|288}
δηθὰ γὰρ αὔτως εἴσῃ ἑκάστου πειρητίζων,
ἔργα μετερχόμενος· …

Odyssey 16.311–314; Telemachus to Odysseus

But I don’t think this will be a profit,
for either of us. I invite you to reflect on this:
you would know about each of them by testing them for a long time
and caring about their actions, just so …


The component of subjective judgment in the use of αὔτως clearly appears in combination with νήπιος, which refers almost exclusively to Astyanax, [61] as in the following example:

… πάϊς δ’ ἔτι νήπιος αὔτως,
ὃν τέκομεν σύ τ’ ἐγώ τε δυσάμμοροι· …

Iliad 22.484–485 = XXIV 726–727; Andromache addressing Hector

… the child is still just unwitting,
the one to whom you and I, most wretched, gave life …


Andromache’s acknowledgment of her son as νήπιος includes the tragic envisioning of the irreversible social disconnection that will follow upon Astyanax’s coming orphanhood. [62] When νήπιος and αὔτως co-occur with reference to adults, the speaker conveys the recognition of a blind consciousness guiding the behavior of those adults: in S. T. Edmunds’ terms, a mental and/or a social disconnection that brings about mistakes and even death is acknowledged and explicitly addressed. [63] It is especially relevant to the purposes of this chapter to recall that the primary speaking ‘I’ of the Iliad uses νήπιον αὔτως to point to little Astyanax, when the farewell between Hector and Andromache is about to be described: {288|289}

ἥ οἱ ἔπειτ’ ἤντησ’, ἅμα δ’ ἀμφίπολος κίεν αὐτῇ
παῖδ’ ἐπὶ κόλπῳ ἔχουσ’ ἀταλάφρονα νήπιον αὔτως
Ἑκτορίδην ἀγαπητὸν ἀλίγκιον ἀστέρι καλῷ

Iliad 6.399–401; the primary speaking ‘I’ to the audience

She [Andromache] met him [Hector] then, and a servant came along with her
carrying the son in her bosom, just unwitting,
child of Hector, beloved, resembling a beautiful star.


Certainly the motif of Andromache’s and Hector’s son as νήπιος αὔτως relates to the Iliadic context of the tragic and irreversible separation of husband, wife, and son (in the farewell of book six and in the two laments by Andromache in books twenty-two and twenty-four). However, since it is extremely rare for the primary speaking ‘I’ to use αὔτως apart from sentence intial ὣς δ’αὔτως, I suggest that what happens at Iliad 6.400 is the adoption of Andromache’s point of view. The performer speaks νήπιον αὔτως as if it were coming from Andromache’s mouth. This harmonizes with my reading of αὐτῇ at Iliad 6.399 [64] : the passage reveals the primary speaking ‘I’’s access to the internal states of his characters; it conveys an empathic, emotional nearness.

Presentational ὣς δ’αὔτως, which I have already mentioned, [65] is my final use of αὔτως. The phrase signals that the upcoming discourse unit is going to describe an action that parallels the one that has just been told; the shift concerns either a different side of the visual field (“on the other side,” as with αὐτάρ), or an analogy between completely different scenes. I argue that these cases are the only ones in which αὔτως works as a discourse marker. Let us consider the following example:

οὐδ’ εἴα κλαίειν Πρίαμος μέγας· οἳ δὲ σιωπῇ
νεκροὺς πυρκαϊῆς ἐπινήνεον ἀχνύμενοι κῆρ,
ἐν δὲ πυρὶ πρήσαντες ἔβαν προτὶ Ἴλιον ἱρήν.
ὣς δ’ αὔτως ἑτέρωθεν ἐϋκνήμιδες Ἀχαιοὶ
νεκροὺς πυρκαϊῆς ἐπινήνεον ἀχνύμενοι κῆρ,
ἐν δὲ πυρὶ πρήσαντες ἔβαν κοίλας ἐπὶ νῆας.

Iliad 7.427–432; the primary speaking ‘I’ to the audience {289|290}

Noble Priam did not allow them [the Trojans] to cry. They silently
piled the corpses on the pyre, distressed in their heart.
Then, after burning them upon the fire, they went to sacred Ilium.
Likewise, on the other side, the Achaeans well-greaved
piled the corpses on the pyre, distressed in their heart.
Then, after burning them upon the fire, they went to the hollow ships.


The analogous description of what happens “on the other side” (ἑτέρωθεν reinforces the concept and the kind of visual shift) is particularly striking, as lines 431–432 mirror 428–429. There is a correspondence between the doubling of the action (the Trojans burning Trojan corpses—the Achaeans burning Achaean corpses) and the parallel repetition in performance.

Conclusion: about facts and about acts

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

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

Footnotes

[ back ] 1. Within the corpus considered, αὖθις occurs only at Hymn III to Apollo 476 and in Theognis (1.202; 356; 862; 957; 2.1249; 1323). For the number of occurrences, see the table at the end of the chapter.

[ back ] 2. Propositional adverbs typically occur in mid-sentence position. On propositional adverbs in subordinated clauses, see Kroon 1995:107.

[ back ] 3. Other clear instances in the Iliad of αὖτις as temporal “back” occur in the context of having life again and of breathing again (said of injured heroes): see Iliad 5.697; 15.60 and 287; 21.56; also Iliad 15.235; 18.59, 89, 238, 440; Odyssey 19.257. Further instances of clearly spatial “back” occur at Iliad 1.27; 12.369 (= 13.753); 24.17; Odyssey 21.211; Homeric Hymn III to Apollo 476. For Hesiodic poetry, see Theogony 626 and Works and Days 562. Phrases displaying representational αὖτις are, for example, (ἠδὲ) καὶ αὖτις (Iliad 24.150 and 179; 1.140) and πάλιν αὖτις (Iliad 2.276; 5.257; 17.533; 23.229; Odyssey 14.356; 15.431; Hesiod Theogony 772), where πάλιν might mark the concept “anew,” whereas αὖτις marks the concept “by following the same process.”

[ back ] 4. Iliad 15.31 (τῶν σ’ αὖτις μνήσω “I am going to remind you of these things once again”); 17.103 (ἄμφω κ’ αὖτις ἰόντες ἐπιμνησαίμεθα χάρμης “[if] both of us would go and remember the joy of battle once again”); Odyssey 4.213 (δόρπου δ’ ἐξαῦτις μνησώμεθα “Let us remember the evening meal once again”).

[ back ] 5. Aloni (2010) analyzes in detail the three proems that constitute the introduction of the Theogony.

[ back ] 6. See Hesiod Theogony 237, 310 and 313; Iliad 23.733 (with τρίτον). Interestingly, δεύτερον αὖτις is used in the Odyssey as propositional adverbial, and it occurs in final sentence position (Odyssey 3.161; 19.65; 22.69). At Homeric Hymn III to Apollo 159, the Delian maidens are said to sing hymns to Apollo, first, and then (αὖτις δ’αὖ) to Leto and Artemis.

[ back ] 7. See note 18 below for further comment on the use of αὖτις in this passage. I have recorded the following occurrences of αὖτις in speech-introductory formulas, in addition to that cited: Πηλεΐδης δ’ ἐξαῦτις ἀταρτηροῖς ἐπέεσσιν / … προσέειπε (Iliad 1.223–224); τοῖς δ’ αὖτις μετέειπε Γερήνιος ἱππότα Νέστωρ· (Iliad 7.170); τοῖς δ’ αὖτις μετέειπε βοὴν ἀγαθὸς Διομήδης· (Iliad 10.241); ἣ δ’ αὖτις δμῳῇσιν ἐϋπλοκάμοισι μετηύδα (Iliad 22.449); ἐξαῦτις μύθοισιν ἀμειβομένη προσέειπεν· (Odyssey 4.234; see also 24.350); τοῖς δ’ αὖτις μετέειπε γυνὴ καὶ ἀμείβετο μύθῳ· (Odyssey 15.439); ἐξαῦτίς μιν ἔπεσσιν ἀμειβόμενος προσέειπεν· (Odyssey 16.193); ἐξαῦτίς μιν ἔπεσσιν ἀμειβομένη προσέειπε· (Odyssey 19.214); τοῖς δ’ αὖτις μετέειφ’ ἱερὴ ἲς Τηλεμάχοιο· (Odyssey 21.130); ἐξαῦτίς σφ’ ἐπέεσσιν ἀμειβόμενος προσέειπεν· (Odyssey 21.206); τοῖσιν δ’ Εὐρύμαχος μετεφώνεε δεύτερον αὖτις· (Odyssey 22.69; αὖτις is here propositional; see n6); αἶψ’ αὖτις μύθοισι προσηύδα μητέρα κεδνήν (Hesiod Theogony 169); … τὸν δ’ αἶψ’ αὖτις ἀμείβετο Κόττος ἀμύμων· (Hesiod Theogony 654).

[ back ] 8. Occurrences that illustrate the idea of parallel repetition of a pattern, or of an argument, or of a visual movement are, for instance, Iliad 3.36 and 440; 4.222. The translation I suggest in these cases is “analogously, on the other side.” This use of αὖτις is shared by αὔτως as well, as I will point out.

[ back ] 9. On multiformity as far as the tradition of Homeric texts is concerned, see Nagy 2001b.

[ back ] 10. Current studies in linguistics attest to some general trends about the semantic evolution of IE words. In particular, adverbials in several European languages seem to have derived from “terms that served primarily contentful rather than procedural functions” (Traugott and Dasher 2002:153, also 156). This might mean that presentational and interactional meanings of adverbials derive from their propositional meanings, which makes sense if we think of many English discourse markers such as “well,” “you know,” and “indeed.” However, if we think, as I have argued, of Homeric αὖ and αὐτάρ as discourse markers exclusively (that is, they are always propositionally irrelevant), and if we assume that both words are very ancient, the hypothesis of propositional meanings as chronologically preceding the presentational and the interactional ones is difficult to maintain. On grammaticalization processes and the semantic-pragmatic evolution of many IE words, see, in particular, Hopper and Traugott 1993 and Sweetser 1990. On IE adverbs, particles, prepositions, and preverbs deriving from a broad group of multifunctional non-flexional Proto-Indoeuropean words, see Adrados 1975:839–848; Adrados 1992:705–706; and Prósper 1991:71–73.

[ back ] 11. Odyssey 11, for instance, includes fifteen occurrences of lines starting either with ὣς ἔφατ’ or with ὣς ἐφάμην and carried on with either αὐτάρ οr αὐτίκα: ὣς ἔφατ’, αὐτὰρ ἐγώ μιν ἀμειβόμενος προσέειπον “So he/she spoke; then I answered by saying” (79, 138, 163, 435, 462, 477, 504); ὣς ἔφατ’, αὐτὰρ ἐγώ γ’ ἔθελον φρεσὶ μερμηρίξας / μητρὸς ἐμῆς ψυχὴν ἑλέειν “So she spoke; then, thinking of this in my heart, I wanted to grasp the ghost of my mother” (204–205); ὣς ἐφάμην, ἡ δ’ αὐτίκ’ ἀμείβετο πότνια μήτηρ· “So I spoke; at that point, my revered mother replied” (180 and 215); ὣς ἐφάμην, ὁ δέ μ’ αὐτίκ’ ἀμειβόμενος προσέειπε· “So I spoke, and he answered by saying” (145, 404, 440 and 487). Most of these instances also work as speech-introductory formulas. In this context, it is interesting to note the wording of lines 627–628, once Heracles’ ghost stops talking: ὣς εἰπὼν ὁ μὲν αὖτις ἔβη δόμον Ἄϊδος εἴσω, / αὐτὰρ ἐγὼν αὐτοῦ μένον ἔμπεδον … “After saying so, he entered the house of Hades, whereas I remained there, without leaving the spot.” αὖτις here is commonly taken as a means to express—propositionally—a backward movement; he goes “back” to the house of Hades. I propose, rather, to evaluate a possible presentational value of αὖτις, which harmonizes with the presentational value of αὐτάρ in the next line. Indeed, the speaker (Odysseus) might here simply differentiate between two different visual directions: ὁ μὲν αὖτις refers to one out of two threads (that is, what Heracles does), whereas αὐτὰρ ἐγών refers to the second thread (that is, what the speaking ‘I’ does). If so, Heracles is not “going back to the house of Hades” but he simply “enters the house of Hades”; cf. 150–152 ὣς φαμένη ψυχὴ μὲν ἔβη δόμον Ἄϊδος εἴσω / Τειρεσίαο ἄνακτος, ἐπεὶ κατὰ θέσφατ’ ἔλεξεν· / αὐτὰρ ἐγὼν αὐτοῦ μένον ἔμπεδον … “After saying so, the ghost of lord Teiresias / entered the house of Hades, as he listed his prophecies; / as for me, I remained there, without leaving the spot.”

[ back ] 12. At Iliad 13.239, the first (visual) thread is about Poseidon (ὃ μὲν αὖτις), who just spoke, while the second is about Idomeneus (240 Ἰδομενεὺς δ’; see also Iliad 16.726–727 and 17.82–83). The presentational suggestion of two visually distinct threads of the story is confirmed by Iliad 16.813–816: Euphorbus injures Patroclus; then, the narrator first focuses on Euphorbus (ὃ μὲν αὖτις), who “looses himself in the crowd” (as Lattimore [1951] translates), for he was not able to endure the Achaean hero; after that, the narrator focuses on Patroclus and on what happens to him (Πάτροκλος δέ, 816).

[ back ] 13. See also ὣς εἰπὼν ὃ μὲν αὖτις (Iliad 13.239; 15.572; 16.726; 17.82), where, likewise, αὖτις may simply constitute a variant of αὖτε or αὐτάρ. On the latter used to catch up with narration after direct speeches, see ch. 4, p. 223 with n119. An Odyssean formula not occurring after “So X spoke”-clauses includes a propositional “back again” referring to the spatial movement back to the chair where one was previously sitting: ἂψ δ’ αὖτις κατ’ ἄρ’ ἕζετ’ ἐπὶ θρόνου, ἔνθεν ἀνέστη “At that point, he sat back on the throne from which he had risen” (Odyssey 23.164; 21.139 and 166; 18.157). The co-occurring adverb ἄψ reinforces such an idea. This imagined movement might have influenced the interpretation of such similar phrases as ὣς φάθ’, ὁ δ’ αὖτις ἄρ’ ἕζετ’ ἐϋξέστου ἐπὶ δίφρου “So he spoke; then, the other sat on the polished stool” (Odyssey 17.602; 24.408) and ὣς φάθ’, ὁ δ’ αὖτις ἰὼν κατ’ ἄρ’ ἕζετο “So he spoke; then, the other went to sit down” (Odyssey 16.46), where a backward movement is not necessarily involved. Rather, αὖτις could simply mark the next narrative step.

[ back ] 14. On the relevance of αἶψα, see below.

[ back ] 15. I detected a change of setting also at Homeric Hymn II to Demeter 325 (αὖτις ἔπειτα). At Iliad 18.153, αὖτις might well work as a discourse marker—together with γάρ and δή—catching up the narration of the contention about Patroclus’ corpse. At the narrative level, I detect the following moves: first, after concluding the section about Thetis leaving for Olympus (τὴν μὲν ἄρ’, 148), the primary speaking ‘I’ introduces the next macro section, whose setting is the battle field (ἀυτὰρ ’Αχαιοί, 148); then, after mentioning the defense of Patroclus’ corpse, he delves into the details of the scene of bold contention about the dead body (αὖτις γὰρ δή, 153), which runs until 164. Therefore, αὖτις signals a zooming in as well, with γάρ and δή possibly reinforcing this. As for translation: Lattimore (1951) has “for once again the men and the horses came over upon him,” which includes “once again” as a propositional adverb; however, the fight over Patroclus’ corpse had never actually stopped (see Iliad 17.735–761), nor had any of the Trojans so far been able to touch the dead body. I suggest to use, rather, a presentational “αὖτις” and to translate “Here we are: they had eventually reached the dead body: men, horses, and Hector son of Priam…” At Iliad 8.335, ἂψ δ’ αὖτις marks a parallel development of the story by introducing Zeus’ support for the Trojans after helping the Achaeans (cf. Iliad 8.247, where Zeus’ eagle is sent). Finally, I quote Iliad 15.696 as an interesting case of change of setting that includes a zooming out effect: after focusing on two single heroes, namely Ajax and Hector (674–687 and 688–695, respectively), the narrator shifts “back” to the overall scene of the battle near the ships.

[ back ] 16. See also Odyssey 4.233–234; 15.438–439; 18.59–60; 19.505–506; 24.349–350.

[ back ] 17. The research I have conducted leads me to conclude that ἐξαῦτις shares the same range of functions as αὖτις, without differences.

[ back ] 18. See Odyssey 16.193, where Telemachus is going to un-recognize his father, even though Odysseus has just revealed himself; Odyssey 19.214, where Penelope is going to unexpectedly ask the beggar to explain what Odysseus was wearing; Odyssey 4.234, where Helen’s relatively long narration of Odysseus in Troy is going to start (235–264); Odyssey 15.439, where the servant of Ctesius—through Eumaeus’ telling—is secretly going to propose to the Phaeacian seamen to take Ctesius’ child (that is, Eumaeus) on board; Odyssey 18.60, where Telemachus is going to approve the fight between his disguised father and Irus; Iliad 22.449, where Andromache has just heard ill-omened groans from the bastion and is going to say that she wants to see what happened. All these instances coincide with speech-introductory formulas. See, also, Homeric Hymn II to Demeter 325 (αὖτις ἔπειτα), where Zeus is said to send to Demeter all the gods, one by one, in order to persuade her to go back to Olympus; Homeric Hymn V to Aphrodite 183, where Anchises, shocked at recognizing Aphrodite’s features in the woman he coupled with, hides his face and is going to plead that Zeus not punish him; Hesiod Theogony 169, where Chronus is about to declare his willingness to cooperate with his mother so as to castrate Uranus (the co-occurrence of αἶψα in αἶψ’ αὖτις marks the instantaneous quality of the act).

[ back ] 19. The same kind of emotional discontinuity is detectable in Solon fr. 13.35 τότε δ’αὖτις ὀδύρεται “at that moment [here is what happens] he grieves”: the poet argues that before disgrace every person has a good opinion of himself, whereas only when disgrace comes does he also grieve. αὖτις conveys the “all of a sudden” quality of a crucial moment. These interactional instances are parallel to the propositional ones I cited at the beginning of my analysis—namely, when an almost dead hero is said to breathe “again” (for example, Iliad 15.286–288).

[ back ] 20. A sub-type of what Führer calls “modal” αὖτις is described as follows: “[die] Wiederherstellung eines früheren Zustandes durch Aufhebung der—expliziten oder impliziten—Komplementärhandlung (bes. bei Paaren wie öffnen/schliessen, aufstehen/sich setzen, bauen/zerstören usw.)” (LfgrE I:1610).

[ back ] 21. See Olympian 8.74; Olympian 9.47; Isthmian 3/4.41 and Nemean 10.21.

[ back ] 22. Eight out of twenty-one occurrences of αὖτις in lyric poetry go with an “I” mark. The overall percentage of αὖτις with “I” marks is 22.44% (44 of 196 instances).

[ back ] 23. More specifically, Boisacq (1907–1916, I:103) suggests that αὐτίκα derives from the adverb of place αὖτι (“αὖτι ‘sur-le-champ, là’ …, cf. αὖθι”). On spatial relations grammaticalized as expressions for temporal relations, see Traugott and Dasher 2002:75–86. An example in English is “be going to” designating future actions.

[ back ] 24. αὐτίκα and νῦν co-occur at Iliad 6.308; Odyssey 5.205; 9.356; 13.364; 20.63; and Homeric Hymn V to Aphrodite 151.

[ back ] 25. The argument that αὐτίκα is not a deictic “now” but, rather, identifies a specific moment through the “now” of the utterance, is confirmed, in my view, by co-occurrences of αὐτίκα and the future tense (see Iliad 4.172; 6.308–309; 9.135 and 277; 12.250; 15.135–136; 23.412; Odyssey 10.538; 23.362; Homeric Hymn V to Aphrodite 280). The force of the combination αὐτίκα + future rests on the authoritativeness of stating one’s view of what is going to happen or what will happen as the result of one’s identification/recognition of it. The same argument has been advanced about νῦν αὖ/αὖτε (see ch. 4, pp. 241–242).

[ back ] 26. See Nagy 2004b:27–28; on epic reenactment, see above, ch. 4, pp. 214–215.

[ back ] 27. “The past, in fact, becomes ‘present,’ both in a temporal and in a spatial sense: it is turned from ‘then’ and ‘there’ into ‘now’ and ‘here’ within the context of a special social event and through the actions of a special, authoritative speaker. … enargeia is pretended immediacy, acting as if one verbalizes what one sees, and pretending that the extroverted consciousness that saw the epic events is actually seeing them in the present” (Bakker 2005:95; italics in the text).

[ back ] 28. See also 16.327. The substitution of “now” for “then” in vivid descriptions of events turns out to particularly well fit embedded narratives of the past by Odysseus: see Odyssey 9.337, 10.111, and 14.340.

[ back ] 29. Further instances of ἄρα immediately following αὐτίκα are: Iliad 16.308; 21.378; Odyssey 4.220; 5.77; 15.93; Homeric Hymn III to Apollo 110. ἄρα is nearby at: Iliad 17.84; 18.98; 20.292; 23.129; Odyssey 19.392; 20.91; 21.67.

[ back ] 30. An overlap between actions that are soon to come or of the instant and excited presentations of specific moments of the story is, of course, a strong possibility. Homer shows representational uses of αὐτίκα; I am not denying this. My overall argument is that this adverb may be read also as a discourse relevant feature. Moreover, this overlap—which gives raise to what I call “hybrid” cases—instead of canceling the discourse relevance simply attests to a linguistic stage upon which both functions converge. Such a stage could be related to the semantic change ancient Greek adverbs were subjected to, but it is difficult to hypothesize the direction of a chronological development (see p. 267).

[ back ] 31. I detect a similar function only at Iliad 2.322; 3.267; Odyssey 6.323; 11.636; 12.168; 17.120. An instance of αὐτίκα introducing a major narrative discontinuity (like αὐτάρ) is ὣς ἔφατ’, αὐτίκα δὲ χρυσόθρονος ἤλυθεν Ἠώς “So he [or she] spoke. Then, Dawn of the golden throne came” (Odyssey 10.541 = 12.142 = 15.56 = 20.91; also 6.48).

[ back ] 32. A typical instance of αὐτίκα signaling the zooming in on action after speeches or after general descriptions occurs in the Iliadic formula αὐτίκα δ’ ἐξ ὀχέων σὺν τεύχεσιν ἆλτο χαμᾶζε “And—here we are—he sprang from the chariot to the ground with the arms” (Iliad 3.29 = 5.494 = 6.103 = 12.81 = 13.749). See also Iliad 2.442; 3.141; 4.213; 5.841; 6.472; 9.174; 10.333; 11.517; 12.294, 469; 13.17; 14.363; 16.184, 259, 678, 864; 19.126, 352; 23.39, 129, 162, 488, 664, 754, 872; 24.340, 515; Odyssey 1.324; 2.379; 4.220, 506, 529, 674; 5.77, 229; 8.361, 447; 9.156, 246, 337, 12.261 and 353; 13.272; 14.276, 340; 15.93; 16.327, 407; 17.307; 19.190, 420; 20.103; 21.46; 24.183; Homeric Hymn III to Apollo 110, 332; Hesiod Theogony 570; Works and Days 70 and 259. In some of these passages, αὐτίκα occurs in the line after an αὐτὰρ ἐπεί clause, as is the case in some instances of αὖτις (on which, see the discussion above).

[ back ] 33. “Unbeschadet nämlich der Tatsache, dass man αὐτίκα oft, ja fast immer mit “sogleich” übersetzen kann, lässt sich zeigen, dass es eine besondere Geschwindigkeit niemals anzeigt, ja dass es ursprünglich … gar keinen temporalen Sinn hat, dass vielmehr seine eigentliche Funktion die ist, das entschlossene (und in gewissem Sinn ‘schlagartige’) Einsetzen in einer bestimmten Situation zu exponieren.” “[αὐτίκα] ist … für die Erzähltechnik beider Epen von gleich hervorragender Bedeutung” (Erren 1970:24 and 25 respectively). The two main types of action being introduced by αὐτίκα are “Angreifen” and “Einsetzen” (Erren 1970:26).

[ back ] 34. See Führer (LfgrE I:1601) “… mit Betonung der ‘lücken-losen’ Verkettung der Ereignisse … , wobei αὐτίκα vom modernen Standpunkt aus oft ‘weniger ein Zeitverhältnis als einen … sachlichen Zusammenhang (meint) (H. Fränkel, Wege u. Formen 2)” [H. F. Fränkel 1955:2]. One sub-group of meaning is labeled by Führer “vorbereitende Nebenhandlung u. eigentl[ich] intendierte Haupthandlung” (1602).

[ back ] 35. Occurrences of αὐτίκα (“at that point”) in speech-introductory formulas are quite numerous: αὐτίκα κερτομίοισι Δία Κρονίωνα προσηύδα (Iliad 1.539); Κάλχας δ’ αὐτίκ’ ἔπειτα θεοπροπέων ἀγόρευε· (Iliad 2.322); αὐτίκ’ Ἀθηναίην ἔπεα πτερόεντα προσηύδα· (Iliad 4.69; 5.713; 21.419); αὐτίκα δ’ Ἰδομενῆα προσηύδα μειλιχίοισιν· (Iliad 4.256); αὐτίκα δ’ Ἰδομενεὺς προσεφώνεε Νέστορα δῖον· (Iliad 11.510); αὐτίκα δὲ Γλαῦκον προσέφη παῖδ’ Ἱππολόχοιο· (Iliad 12.309); αὐτίκ’ Ὀϊλιάδην ἔπεα πτερόεντα προσηύδα· (Iliad 12.365); αὐτίκα δ’ Αἰνείαν προσεφώνεεν ἐγγὺς ἐόντα· (Iliad 17.484); αὐτίκα δ’ Ἀλκιμέδοντα προσηύδα πιστὸν ἑταῖρον· (Iliad 17.500); αὐτίκα μητέρα ἣν ἔπεα πτερόεντα προσηύδα· (Iliad 19.20); αὐτίκα δ’ ἀθανάτοισι θεοῖς μετὰ μῦθον ἔειπεν· (Iliad 10.292); αὐτίκα δ’ Ἥφαιστον προσεφώνεεν ὃν φίλον υἱόν· (Iliad 21.330); αὐτίκ’ ἄρ’ Ἥφαιστον προσεφώνεεν ὃν φίλον υἱόν· (Iliad 21.378); αὐτίκα δ’ εὔχετο πολλὰ Ποσειδάωνι ἄνακτι· (Odyssey 3.54); αὐτίκα δ’ ἥ γ’ ἐπέεσσι πόσιν ἐρέεινεν ἕκαστα· (Odyssey 4.137); αὐτίκα μειλίχιον καὶ κερδαλέον φάτο μῦθον· (Odyssey 6.148); αὐτίκ’ ἔπειτ’ ἠρᾶτο Διὸς κούρῃ μεγάλοιο· (Odyssey 6.323); αὐτίκα δ’ Εὐρύλοχος στυγερῷ μ’ ἠμείβετο μύθῳ· (Odyssey 12.278); αὐτίκα δ’ ἀθανάτοισι μετηύδα χωόμενος κῆρ· (Odyssey 12.376); αὐτίκα δὲ Νύμφῃσ’ ἠρήσατο χεῖρας ἀνασχών· (Odyssey 13.355); αὐτίκα δὲ μνηστῆρσι μετηύδα καὶ φάτο μῦθον· (Odyssey 21.67); αὐτὸς δ’ αὐτίκα μῦθον ἀπηλεγέως ἀγόρευεν· (Homeric Hymn IV to Hermes 362); αὐτίκα οἷς ἑτάροισιν ἐκέκλετο φώνησέν τε· (Hymn VII to Dionysus 16). Odysseus’ embedded narration to the Phaeacians has eleven occurrences of the same speech-introductory formula, which is also a “So Ι spoke”-clause; the fixed elements are ὣς ἐφάμην + pronoun + δέ + αὐτίκ’ ἀμειβ-; see Odyssey 9.272, 368; 10.487, 503; 11.145, 180, 215, 404, 440, 487; 12.115. See also 10.345. Further occurrences of αὐτίκα after “So (s)he spoke”-clauses are at Iliad 23.488, 664, 754; Odyssey 10.541; 12.142, 303; 15.56; 20.91; Homeric Hymn II to Demeter 144.

[ back ] 36. A clear instance of indenting αὐτίκα including a zooming-in effect is Iliad 4.3–6: the gods sit beside Zeus, as they drink and watch Troy; then, the primary speaking ‘I’ zooms in on Zeus addressing provocative words to Hera: τοὶ δὲ χρυσέοις δεπάεσσι / δειδέχατ’ ἀλλήλους, Τρώων πόλιν εἰσορόωντες· / αὐτίκ’ ἐπειρᾶτο Κρονίδης ἐρεθιζέμεν Ἥρην / κερτομίοις ἐπέεσσι παραβλήδην ἀγορεύων “they showed the golden cups to each other, while looking at the city of the Trojans. At that point, the son of Cronus made an attempt to provoke Hera by insinuating with taunting words.” Another significant zooming-in αὐτίκα occurs at Iliad 23.768, where the narration shifts to Odysseus’ internal thoughts: ἀλλ’ ὅτε δὴ πύματον τέλεον δρόμον, αὐτίκ’ Ὀδυσσεὺς / εὔχετ’ Ἀθηναίῃ γλαυκώπιδι ὃν κατὰ θυμόν· “But when they were completing the last part of the race, at that point Odysseus [zoom in on him again] invoked Athene of the gleaming eye with an inner prayer.” αὐτίκ’ Ὀδυσσεύς in this case equals αὐτὰρ Ὀδυσσεύς. Perhaps the later meaning of αὐτίκα as “for example” (recorded in LSJ; see above, p. 273) draws from the same basic intention—namely, to zoom in on a specific case.

[ back ] 37. In fact, this is the second entry of a little list of marvels, which recalls the many uses of αὖ and αὖτε that mark a parallel focus (see ch. 4); see also Odyssey 12.151 and 195.

[ back ] 38. At Odyssey 19.392, αὐτίκα δ’ ἔγνω marks the crucial/magic moment at which Euryclea recognizes Odysseus’ scar. The phrase occurs also at Iliad 1.199; 14.154; 17.84; Homeric Hymn IV to Hermes 213. Further occurrences of αὐτίκα have been pointed out in ch. 4, in relation to recognition in the Homeric Hymns (see p. 217 with n107).

[ back ] 39. In Bonifazi 2008a, I compare this kind of visual discontinuity to “flashes” being snapped. On αὐτίκα linked to “optische Wahrnehmung,” see Führer LfgrE I:1604.

[ back ] 40. I remind the reader that Odysseus’ dog is said to die as soon as he sees his master after a twenty-year absence (Odyssey 17.326 has already been analyzed in my discussion of αὖ; see ch. 4, pp. 233–234). The remarkable instant of Argos’ death is rendered by αὐτίκ’ ἰδόντ(α), 327. Further significant instances of αὐτίκα in this use are Iliad 8.247; 12.393; 14.237; 17.649; 20.321; 24.315; Odyssey 19.390; Homeric Hymn IV to Hermes 79; Hymn V to Aphrodite 185; Hymn XXXIII to the Dioscuri 14. Magical moments presentationally signaled by αὐτίκα outside of the Homeric poetry include Herodotus II 181 (where Amasis is said to have eventually had sexual intercourse with Ladike), and in the Nestor cup’s inscription (“ …Whoever drinks from the cup [here is what happens—αὐτίκα] that one is seized by the desire of Aphrodite …” Less magical but still decisive instants are marked at Iliad 1.583; 2.662; 4.140; 5.214; 12.393; 14.237; 16.308; 19.242; 23.862; 24.515; Odyssey 5.373; 10.116; 12.201, 394; 18.97; 19.390; 21.405; Hymn II to Demeter 281; Hymn III to Apollo 188; Homeric Hymn IV to Hermes 79. Interesting connections between Homeric αὐτίκα and “seelische Bewegung” and “Stimmungswechsel” are outlined by Erren 1970:43 and 51 respectively. As for αὐτίκα at Odyssey 10.116 (where the Cyclops is said to eat one of Odysseus’ companions), Erren (1970:43) speaks about a “meditative sympathy” (“ein besinnliches Mitleid”) of the poet with Odysseus’ men.

[ back ] 41. Alcman’s poetry shows two notable instances of αὐτεῖ (the Doric form of αὐτοῦ), “here,” which express the convergence of the hic of the performance with the shared sameness of the members of the chorus; see Alcman fr. 3.79 Calame and fr. 82b 3 Calame.

[ back ] 42. It is remarkable that several times αὐτοῦ points at a specific place—which is the place of one’s death or burial. See Iliad 16.649; 17.416; 18.332; 19.330; 21.322; 22.5; Odyssey 9.303; 11.372; 12.256; 14.275 (a desired death in Egypt); 18.266; 22.96; 24.471. At Iliad 16.506 and 742, αὐτοῦ ambiguously refers to the corpse (of Sarpedon and Cebriones respectively), and also to its location (“there/here”). I will show below that the same ambiguity holds for αὖθι (see below, pp. 284–285).

[ back ] 43. For αὐτοῦ occurring in Odysseus’ first-person narration of his past travels, see Odyssey 9.96, 194, 303; 10.96; xi 152, 628; 12.204, 256; 13.205; 14.260, 275; 17.429.

[ back ] 44. See above, p. 275 (on Iliad 23.118).

[ back ] 45. Of all the occurrences of αὐτοῦ in the Iliad and in the Odyssey, I have counted twenty-five propositional “here” vs. fifty-four propositional “there”; for αὖθι, sixteen propositional “here” vs. thirty-five propositional “there”; for αὐτόθι, nine propositional “here” vs. twenty-three propositional “there.”

[ back ] 46. See Frisk 1960–1972, I:185; Nordheider in LfgrE I:1544; Chantraine 1999:139 (“[i]ssu par superposition syllabique de αὐτόθι”); also Schwyzer 1939 I:628. Interestingly, the later αὖθι has been treated as the equivalent of αὖθις (see Lycophron Alexandra 732 and Callimachus Hymn to Artemis 241). Boisacq (1907–1916, I:100) translates αὖθι as “ici même; sur-le-champ, aussitôt.”

[ back ] 47. Different verbal forms of μένειν and of λείπειν occur in 43.75% and 52.77% of the total occurrences of αὖθι and αὐτόθι respectively.

[ back ] 48. In ch. 4 (pp. 238–239), I have already analyzed ἔνθα as a device used to zoom in on a specific scene or character. De Jong and Nünlist (2004:78) observe that ἔνθα is used by the narrator “to mark his spatial approach to the individual heroes.”

[ back ] 49. At Odyssey 22.68, the suitors realize who is really drawing the bow (ὣς φάτο, τῶν δ’ αὐτοῦ λύτο γούνατα καὶ φίλον ἦτορ “So he spoke. At that very moment, their knees and heart went slack”); at Odyssey 23.205, Penelope eventually admits the recognition of Odysseus; at Odyssey 24.345, Laertes recognizes the signs of his son’s identity. The same formulaic expression also occurs at Odyssey 4.703; Iliad 21.114, 425. Homeric Hymn II to Demeter 281 has the curious variant τῆς δ’ αὐτίκα γούνατ’ ἔλυντο.

[ back ] 50. Albeit the formal structure resembles that of many initial sentence wordings with αὖ and αὖτ—namely, pronoun + δέ + αὐ-adverb. Further instances of αὖθι and αὐτόθι with specific reference to the instant of death are Iliad 5.553 and 847; 11.241; 13.653; 16.331; 17.298, 535; 19.403; 21.201; Odyssey 10.132; 22.200. See also Iliad 3.428 (desired death); 16.848; Odyssey 9.496; 15.327; 18.91 and 339 (possibility of death). Pindar uses αὖθι at Olympian 8.39 to refer to the exact spot where two snakes are said to have died. For αὐτοῦ referring to places of death or of burials, see p. 281 with n42. I wonder if there is some conceptual connection between this use of αὖθι and the instances of αὖ/αὖτε that concern death examined in ch. 4 (pp. 242 and 256).

[ back ] 51. See, e.g., Döderlein 1850–1858, I:168–171 and Bechtel 1914:77–78. The two IE pronominal roots would be au– “away from,” whence αὔτως as “alone, only, in vain” and au– “on the other hand, again,” whence αὔτως as “in the same way.”

[ back ] 52. See Hermann 1827:338–342; Schwyzer 1939 I:614; Kühner and Gerth 1955, I:655 (“Die verschiedenen Bedeutungen von aὔτως lassen sich alle erklären, wenn man es von αὐτός ableitet”); Autenrieth 1958:55 (“a word admitting great variety of paraphrase, but in signification always answering to some force of αὐτός”); Frisk 1960–1972, I:191; Chantraine 1999:143; LfgrE I:1681.

[ back ] 53. Out of all the αὐ-adverbs examined in this chapter, αὔτως is the most flexible in terms of position within the line; this fact matches the oscillation between its propositional and its discourse marker functions.

[ back ] 54. Führer (LfgrE I:1681–1684) lists the main meanings in the following order: “genauso,” “ebenso,” “so wie man ist,” “einfach so,” “nur so,” “grundlos.”

[ back ] 55. As a parallel to this instance, I cite Iliad 18.338, where Achilles darkly comments about Patroclus’ corpse “lying αὔτως by the ships.” At Iliad 23.74, Patroclus’ soul tells Achilles: αὔτως ἀλάλημαι ἀν’ εὐρυπυλὲς Ἄϊδος δῶ “I wander as I am by Hades’ house of the wide gates” (Lattimore’s translation [1951]). αὔτως implies the condition of the body “with nothing else on” and, in particular, “without weaponry” at Iliad 18.198 and 22.125.

[ back ] 56. For parallel uses of αὖτις, where the translation could be “analogously,” see ch. 5, p. 267 with n8; see also ch. 4, p. 225 on αὖ.

[ back ] 57. One of the sub-meanings of αὔτως in LSJ is “just so,” “in a contemptuous sense.”

[ back ] 58. See Iliad 10.50 (αὔτως, οὔτε θεᾶς υἱός φίλος); 14.18 (αὔτως, οὐδ’ ἄρα τε προκυλίνδεται); 23.621 (αὔτως· οὐ γὰρ πύξ γε μαχήσεαι); Odyssey 14.151 (οὐκ αὔτως); 15.82–83 (οὐδέ τις … / αὔτως ἀππέμψει); Iliad 7.100 (ἀκήριοι ἀκλεὲς αὔτως); 13.104 (αὔτως ἠλάσκουσαι ἀνάλκιδες); Odyssey 4.665 (ἀέκητι … οἴχεται αὔτως); 16.111 (μὰψ αὔτως ἀτέλεστον, ἀνηνύστῳ ἐπὶ ἔργῳ); 20.130 (αὔτως κεῖται ἀκηδής); Ηomeric Hymn II to Demeter 83 (μὰψ αὔτως ἄπλητον … χόλον); Hymn IV to Hermes 488 (μὰψ αὔτως); Iliad 11.388 (εὔχεαι αὔτως); 17.450 (ἐπεύχεται αὔτως); 20.348 ἔφην μὰψ αὔτως εὐχετάασθαι).

[ back ] 59. The subjectivity of the αὔτως-statements or questions is, perhaps, confirmed by the relatively high co-presence of “I” marks, which extends to 25% of the instances.

[ back ] 60. See Iliad 3.220; 7.100; 13.810; 17.450; 21.474. Judgment and recognition converge also in Theognis 2.1248, where the speaking “I” starts comparing his erōmenos to different animals, and says “you are a horse” (σὺ μὲν αὔτως ἵππος).

[ back ] 61. Iliad 6.400; 22.484 and 726. See also 21.474 (Artemis referring to Apollo).

[ back ] 62. See S. T. Edmunds 1990:31–32.

[ back ] 63. Adults who are called nēpios “are disconnected from the past and, especially, the future. As in the case of children who are nēpios, this disconnection is both mental (they do not have foresight) and social (their lack of foresight almost always has fatal consequences; it disconnects them from the fellowship of the living). Their lack of foresight is sometimes the result of what we would call simple ignorance; sometimes it is a matter of being out of touch with the wishes or plans of the gods” (S. T. Edmunds 1990:60). There might be a further link between αὔτως and νήπιος in the idea of isolating those who are disconnected, of singling them out, which rests on an underlying process of recognition, as well. On νήπιος-passages, see also De Jong 1987:86–87.

[ back ] 64. See ch. 3, p. 143.

[ back ] 65. Iliad 3.339; 7.430; 9.195; 10.25; Odyssey 3.64; 6.166; 9.31; 10.238; 21.203 and 225; 22.114; 24.409; cf. also Hesiod Theogony 402 and 600.

[ back ] 66. See above, pp. 267–268n10.