OXFORD

F LE S H AND SPIRIT
IN THE SONGS
OF HOMER
A STUDY OF WORDS AND MYTHS

Michael Clarke
O X F O R D C L A S S IC A L M O N O G R A PH S
 F l e s h a n d S p i r i t in the
Songs of Hom er
A S t u d y o f W o rd s a n d M y t h s

s
MICHAEL· CLARKE

CLARENDON PRESS OXFORD

i 999

i)
Ï
 η « * l*oofc iios been pnm et digitally .imi pmluu-d in <>rtimdmd jjv <(flration
in order to ram nr its toimniiing innllnblhlv

OXFORD
v<mvKnsiry rums
Cre.u Clarendon Streel. Oxford OXa GDI*
Ox f o n t Um m -siiy T i t s * i s a department o f the University o f Oxford,
it furthers the University's objective o f excellence in research, scholarship,
and education by publishing worldwide in
Oxford N ew York
Auckland Bangkok Buenos Aires Cape Town Chennai
Dar es Salaam Delhi Hong Kong Istanbul Karachi Kolkata
Kuala Lum pur Madnd Melbourne Mexico City Mumbai Nairobi
SAo Paulo Shanghai Singapore Taipei Tokyo Toronlo

Oxlord is a registered trade mark o f Oxford University Press

in the UK and in certain other countries
Published in the United States
by Oxford University Press htc.. N ew York
Ö Michael Clarke 1999
The moral rights o f the author have been asserted
Database right Oxford University Press (maker}
Reprinted 2002
A ll rights reserved. No part o f this publication may be reproduced,
stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, ill any form or by any means,
without the prior permission in writing o f Oxford University Press,
or as expressly permitted by law. or under terms agreed with the appropriate
reprographics rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction
outside the scope o f the above should be sent to the Rights Department,
O xford University Press, at the address above
You must not circulate this book in any other binding or cover
and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer
ISBN 0-19-8152G3-9
Jacket illustration by C O'Mahony.
 Texts, Abbreviations, and Commentaries XV

A Commentary on the Fourth Pythian Ode o f Pindar, b y B. K .

B rasw ell (B erlin , 1088).
T h e o g n is, Le Premier Livre, b y B. A. van G ro n in gen (A m ster­
dam , 196 6 ).
 F o r m y fa t h e r
mid in m em ory o f m y m other
t 'liiin igh m é m nach a t an chiiduM f n o d ti a n étt a m b io n n
on cliu id i* tr r in e d e na fir a g a n a m h , an C la d a c h an
D u ich ru d T r o ig h . A c h b h f b a rr a io e h l d a o in e i n n n a g u ·
cliMiiigh m é b iin ü · m ile »hart an c h u a n ||o c la d a c h
D h e iJg in a c , , ΠΙιι an al na fa rra tg e d o m o n e a rtó go
rn illtea n ac b , go d ti go ra ib h mé d o m o m h n th a c h ta ii fè in
fié in . C u ir e s n n aer na fa rr a ig c b r i m b d k e a n a c h w n » m , g o
h m rith e i m 'in tin n . I» lo m ai o a ir a a m ao in in h m é d ä
d tig ea d h an fo n n o rm agu e m i c o i l fa r r a ig c g o a c r io b h -
fain n lenbhar a a h io b fa d h b a lló g n a c la ig n e d e n m h ó r c h o ld
den ch in e d ao n n a. A c h n i ra ib h fo n n a c rib h n e o ire a c h ta or
b ith an la k o orm .
S . M * c O r ia n n a . Λ ΐο B h toh u h Féin
 PREFACE

T h is book is based on w ork that I began in 1990 and continued

interm ittently d u rin g the eight years that I spent at the
u n iversities o f O xfo rd , C am b rid ge, and M an ch ester. I owe
special thanks to Ja m e s C lackson , M ich ael C rudcjen, S tep h an ie
D ailey, Jo h n D illo n , Pat E asterlin g , M ark E d w ard s, K oy
G ib so n , Ja s p e r G riffin , R ich ard H un ter, Jo h n K ille n , M atth ew
L eig h , T o rste n M eissn er, R ev iel N etz, T r e v o r Q uinn, K eith
Sidvvell, C h ristian e S o u rv in o u -In w o o d , O liver T a p lin , and the
late J . F . Procop e, w ho have been kind to me and have given
me the benefit o f their sch olarsh ip. Ja sp e r G riffin in particular
read countless d rafts with great patience, and I w ould have
done little w ith o u t h is acute learn ing and his relen tless criti­
cism . T o rste n M eissn er help ed me w ithout stint in m y
attem pts to understand w o rd s, and M ich ael C ru d d en read
the final d raft and m ade m an y in valuab le suggestion s and
corrections; w h ile the m eticulous w ork o f Ju lia n W ard and
G co rg a G o d w in w as an un lo o ked -fo r boon d u rin g co p y-ed itin g
and production. I am also very gratefu l to Ju d ith M o ssm an and
to my n ephew , Ja m es C lark e, and his fam ily, w ho lent me their
homes to w rite in. O therw ise m y c h ie f debts are to all m y
fam ily and frien d s, to the m usic o f Ja m e s T a y lo r , and to
R egan ’s T a ra B a r in D u b lin , C lo w n s C afe in C am b rid ge, and
above all the N ew E x celsio r R estau ran t in O xfo rd , w here they
m ade the best coffee in En glan d .
A s the book is founded on a doctoral thesis, the reader m ay
be su rprised to find that I hove allow ed little space to
com plicated d isagreem ents w ith pu b lish ed scholarship. So
m uch is w ritten about H om er that the stud en t w ill be hindered
rather than helped if he lets oth er p eo p le’ s theories distract him
from the jo b o f grap p lin g w ith the substan ce o f the poem s,
w hich rem ain b itterly hard to u n d erstan d from line to line. B y
t r y in g .to let H o m er’ s w o rd s speak for them selves I have
developed a habit o f arg u in g through glossed quotations,
w hich som etim es m akes fo r exhausted reading: but 1 hope
vi ii Preface
the argum ent w ill be clear if the reader is patient. C ertain ly the
book would have becom e unm anageable if 1 had discussed all
m y tussles w ith the books and articles that 1 had to read as 1
went along. M an y tim es when 1 read som ething, 1 w ould be
greatly helped by one o f its observations but would leave aside
m any o f the others: this applies particularly to Bruno S n ell's
Discovery of the M in d t D avid C lau s’ s Toward the Soul, T h om as
Ja h n ’ s Zum Wortfeld ‘Seele-Geist' in der Sprache Hom eri, ja n
B rcm m cr's Early Greek Concept of the Soul, A rbogast
S ch m itt’ s Selbständigkeit und Abhängigkeit menschlichen Han­
delns bei Homer, and R u th Padel’ s In and Out of the Mind. A
few recent books that seem ed at first sight to belong in the same
area, such as H ayden P clliccia’ s Mind, Body and Speech in
Homer and Pindar and C h ristop h er G ill's Personality in Greek
Epic, Tragedy, and Philosophy, turned out to be so rem ote from
w hat I had already w ritten that there was nothing to be gained
b y adding d iscussions o f them to the final drafts; and although
I have perhaps learnt m ore about G reek life and thought from
C hristiane S o u rvm o u -lm v o o d than from any other scholar
alive today, I found m yself at loggerheads with the H om eric
chapter in her 'Reading' Greek Death, w hich 1 first saw In draft
form in 19 9 2 . (C onversation reveals that the difference is less
betw een our con clusions than in the objects o f our enquiries:
sec C h . i , n. 64.) O f all the studies o f H om eric psychology the
on ly one that 1 found really com pelling was R , B . O nians’s
Origins o f European Thought, but even there I have had to
disagree w ith m any o f its b rillian t and eccentric insights. I f it
and the other m on ograph s are referred to only very b riefly, this
is not because I have ignored them but because the ancient
eviden ce m ust take precedence at all tim es. I can only apologise
for the m ultiplication o f errors and om issions that w ill have
been caused by this policy.
M .J.C .
Daikey
September 19 9 8
 CONTENTS

Texts, Abbreviations, and Commentaries

Part I: Prologue
1. H om eric W ords and H om eric Ideas
Reading Homer in isolation 4
Religion and world-picture 9
Words and ideas >3
Poetic language and poetic ideas 22
The integrated study of Homer 26
Semantic reconstruction 31
2. T h e Categories o f Body and Soul
Asking the right questions 37
Dualism of body and soul is insidious 39
Dualistic words and categories constrain scholarship 42
'Hie quest ahead 47

Part II: The Language o f Thought and Life

3. T h e Breath o f L ife and the M ean ing o f ψνχη
T h e shape o f Hom eric man 53
Does the living man have a φυχή} 55
4. M ental L ife and the Body
θυμός and its family 6j
The idea of psychological identity 61
The mental apparatus has many names but is undivided 63
Mental agents and functions are one 66
The sliding scale of agency and function in Iliad i- vi 69
Mental life is in the breast 73
Mental life ebbs and flows as breath and fluids 79
New emotions flow into the mental apparatus 90
The flow of bile, \óAor 92
The stuff of thought alternately softens and coagulates 97
In Wily the stuff of thought is dispersed jo i
Homeric psychology is a seamless garment 106
The deflning factor can be in movement not substance 109
* Contenti
T h e body and the eelf ore one
llody and not*hody
A« νόος thought goes beyond the apparatus in the breast

P art III: D eath and the A fte rlife

5. T h e D y in g G a s p and the Jo u rn e y to H ad es
Loss o f ψυχή is not departure of soul from body
Loss of θυμός is loss o f breath and life
Loss o f ψυχή is likewise loss of breath
L oss of ψυχή can be its annihilation
θυμός can be lost temporarily by swooning
ψυχή is gasped out, θυμός is breathed back in
ψυχή, ψυχρός, ψύχω refer to coldness, breath and blowing
ψυχή hns two senses in two narrative contexts
T h e image o f the flying ψυχή yokes the two together
T h e image o f flight emerges from that of lost breath
0. T h e C o rp se nnd the A fte rlife
T h e corpse has lost vitality but still holds identity
T o die is to waste away enfeebled
When is the corpse distinguished from the dead man?
Mutilation of the corpse is mutilation of the man
Hades is beyond the darkness o f death
Allusion to the descent in rhetorical ond synoptic style
Mutilation is alluded to in the same way ns Ilmdcs
T h e descent o f ψυχή emerges from the descent of
I indes is below the earth men stand on
T h e purpose o f the funeral is social
i·ίκυψιικρός denotes both corpse and dweller in Hades
T h e dweller in Hades is corpse or shade
T h e shade is defined ns remnant or as counterfeit
T h e shade's movement names it as ψ υ χ ή
T h e identity o f the shade is indeterminate
T h e shade is an image of the undivided bodily man
T hese articulations are irreconcilable: o problem
Patterns of the relation between shade and corpse
A fip rn i/i.v. i . T h e unity o f the N ckuU
a. The authenticity of the Second Nckuia

Part IV: The Shaping o f M yth

7 . T h e P e rso n alities o f D eath
I lo w does the visible w o rld relate to the mythical?
 Contents xi
T h e divinities o f death 231
Sleep hes n (luid personality 335
T h e descent o f darkness ia the experience of deurh 23CJ
Death approaches and seizes the victim 243
T he planning of fate leads to death’s fulfilment 251
T he some names can be used withoutmythical import 253
Death comes from the arrows of Artemis and Apollo 257
Mythical forms in stories of the gods and in works o f art 259
'Everything is full o f gods’ 261
8. C on clusion: T h e D yn am ic s o f M y th ic a l Im agje-m aking
The suppleness o f myth 264
T he divine society 266
Ares and war 269
Helios and Scamander 272
T he supple identity o f ψυχή 276
The double plane o f causation 277
T he double plane of death 282
Ep ilogu e: Flesh and S p ir it in L an g u ag e and L o re
after H o m er
References 321
Index o f TVords 34 1
Index of Passages 34 7
General Index 369
 TEXTS, ABBREVIATIONS, AND
C O M M E N T A R I ES

R eferences to books o f H om er are indicated by R om an num er­

als, sm all capitals for Iliad and low er-case fo r Odyssey. S tan d ­
ard ab b reviation s are used for all other ancient authors and
w orks: see the lists in L id d e ll, Scott, and Jo n es, Greek-English
Lexicon (9th cdn., 1940) and the Oxford Classical Dictionary
(3rd cdn ., 1996).

Principal texts
B acch ylid es, Carmina cum Fragmentis, post B . Snell ed.
H . M ach lcr (L e ip z ig , 19 9 a).
Hesiodi Opera: Theogonia, Opera et Dies, Scutum, ed.
F . So lm sen ; Fragmenta Selecta, ed. R . M erkelbach and
M . L . W est, 3rd cdn . (O xford , 1990).
Homeri Opera, cd. T . W . A llen and D . B . M onro, 3rd edn.
(O xfo rd , 19 20).
Hom eri Ilias, ed. T . W . A llen (O xford, 19 3 1) ·
Homeri Odyssea, cd. P. von der M ü h ll, 3rd edn. (Leipzig,
19 6 1).
P in d ar, Epinicia, post B . S n ell cd. H . M aehler (L eip zig,
1 987).
Scholia Graeca in Hom eri Iliadetn, ed. H . E rb se (Berlin, 1969­
88). _
Scholia in Homeri Odysseam, ed. G , D in d o rf (O xford, 1855).

Abbreviations
Bcrn ab é A . B ern ab é (ed.), Poetae Epici Graeci, Testimonia
et Fragmenta, i (L eip zig, 1987)
Boisacq E . B o isacq , Dictionnaire étymologique de la langue
grecque, 4th edn. (H eidelberg, 1950)
 Texts, Abbreviations, and Commentaries xiii
Chantraine P. C hantraine, Dictionnaire étymologique de la
langue grecque (Paris, 1968-80)
D E. D iehl (ed.), Anthologia Lyrica Graeca, 3rd
cdn. (L eip zig, 19 4 9 -S i)
D -K H . D iels and W . K ran z (eds.), Die Fragmente der
Vorsokratiker, 6th edn. (B erlin , 1 9 5 1 —2)
Frisk H . Frisk, Griechisches etymologisches Wörterbuch
(H eidelberg, 19 5 4 -7 2 )
H P. A . H ansen (ed.), Carmina Epigraphica Graeca
Saeculorum V I I I —V a. Chr. n. (B erlin, 19 8 3)
KRS G . S. K irk , J . E. Raven, and M . Schofield, The
Presocratic Philosophers, 2nd edn. (C am bridge,
1983)
LfgrE Lexicon des frühgriechischen Epos, ed. B. Snell cl
al. (G öttingen, 1979— )
L -P E. Lobel and D . L . Page (eds.), Poetarum Les­
biorum Fragmenta (O xford, 19 55)
LSJ H . G . L id d ell, R . Scott, and H. S . Jo n es, A
Greek—English Lexicon, gth edn. (O xford, 1940)
M H . M aehler (ed.), Pindari Carmina cum Frag­
mentis, ii: Fragmenta (L eip zig, 1989)
M -W R . M erkelbach and M . L . W est (eds.), Frag­
menta Selecta, in Hesiodi Opera, 3rd edn.
(O xford, 1990)
N A . N auck (ed.), Tragicorum Graecorum Frag­
menta, 2nd edn. (L eip zig, 1926)
OCD2 Oxford Classical Dictionary, 2nd edn. (O xford,
1970)
OCD3 Oxford Classical Dictionary, 3rd edn. (O xford,
1996)
P D. L . Page (ed.), Poetae M elici Graeci (O xford,
1962)
PEG ' D . L . Page (ed.), Epigrammata Graeca (O xford,
1975)
RE Paulys Real-Encyclopädie der classischen A lter-
tumsioissemchaft, ed. G . W issow a et al. (S tu tt­
gart, 18 9 3 - )
S -M · Fragmenta, in Bacchylidis Carmina cum Frag­
mentis, post B . S n ell ed. H . M aehler (L eip zig,
' 992) .......
xiv Texts, Abbreviations, and Commentaries
V e n tris - M . V en tris and J . C h ad w ick , Documents in M y -
C h a d w ick cettaean Greek, 2nd cd n . (C am b rid g e, 19 7 3 )
W M . L . W est (cd .), Iambi et Elegi Graeci, 2nd edn.
(O xfo rd , 19 8 9 -9 2 )

Commentaries ( referred to by commentators’ names)

A e s c h y lu s , Agamemnon, b y E . Fraen k el (O xfo rd , 19 50).
A e s c h y lu s , Choephori, b y A . F , G a rv te (O xfo rd , 1986).
A e sc h y lu s, Prometheus Bound, by M . G riffith (C am brid ge,
19 8 3 )·
B a c c h y lid e s, D ie Lieder des Bacchylides, b y H . M ach ler
(L e id e n , 19 8 2 ; Mnemosyne, S u p p l. 62).
E u rip id e s , Alcestis, b y A . M , D ale (O xfo rd , 19 54).
E u rip id e s , Bacchae, b y E . R . D o d d s, 2nd edn. (O xfo rd , i960).
E u rip id e s , Helen, b y A . M . D ale (O xfo rd , 1967).
H e sio d , Theagany, b y M . L . W est (O xfo rd , 1966).
H e sio d , Works and Days, b y M . L . W est (O xfo rd , 19 78).
H o m e r, Iliad, b y W . L e a f, 2nd cd n . (L o n d o n , 19 0 0 -2 ).
H o m e r, Iliad x x tv , b y C . M acleo d (C am b rid ge, 1982).
The Ilia d : A Commentary, general ed- G . S- K irk (C a m ­
b rid g e ):
v o ls. 1 - 2 , b k s. i - i v an d v - v i n , b y G . S . K irk (19 8 5 -9 0 ;;
v o L 3 , b ks. i x - x n , b y J . B . H ain sw orth (19 9 3 /;
ντ>1. 4, b k s. x i i i - x v i , b y R . Ja n k o (19 9 2 );
vot, 5, b k s. x v n - x x , b y M . W . E d w ard s ( 1 9 9 1 ;:
vcd. 6 , b k s. x x i- x x i v , b y N . R ich ard so n (i<>93>-
A Commentary on liermcr't Odyssey, genera! ed- A . Heutxeck
(Oxford): ,
vo l. b k s, i—v iii, b y S- est, b ks. v—v jij b y J . B, H eins worth
( 1 9 8 7 ;; ........................
v o l. 2, b k '. ix - x ii. b y A . H eu b eck; b k s. x m -x v i by
A- H o ek stra (19 8 9 h
v o l. 3 , bk',, x v ii- x x , by J . R u sso ; bks. x x t-x x n by
M . F e r n in d e x -G a lia n o , bit*, χ χ ιϋ - χ χ ίν b y A . H eubeck.
The Odyssey o f Homer, b y W . Fi. S ta n fo rd , 2nd edn. (L o n d o n ,
19 5 8 —9/. .
The Homeric Hymn to Demeter, b y N . J . D . R ich ardson
(O x fo rd . 1974)·
P in d a r. Works, b y L . R . Farn clJ, 3 vols. (L o n d o n , 19 3 0 -2 ).
 I

H o m e ric W o rd s and
H o m e ric Id eas

y
I am a little world made cunningly
Of elements and an angelic sprite,
But black sin hath betrayed to endless night
M y world’s both parts, and oh both parts must die.

Jo h n D onne w rites as if it w ere self-evid en t that m an is a

com bination o f two things, first the ‘elem en ts’ o f the physical
body and then the soul hidden inside it. In that b e lie f he show s
that he is steeped in C hristian and classical tradition ; and to this
day in E u ro p e and A m erica the con ventions o f language,
thought, and w hat rem ains o f religion are shot through w ith
this sam e tw ofold structure o f b o d y and soul, b rain and self,
Hesh and spirit. M y aim is to gain an inklin g o f the earliest
knowable ancestor o f this idea o f the ‘little w o rld ’ o f m an, b y
asking how the G reek s o f the early first m illen n iu m b c co n ­
ceived o f hum an identity in relation to the v isib le su b stan ce o f
the body. Facin g the rem nants o f their cu ltu re w e m ust put
aside dualistic assum ptions and pose the question on a m ore
basic level. W here is the seat o f m an 's sense o f h im self, as it w ere
his ‘ I ’ ? Is there a spiritual being hidden inside w hat others can
see and touch, or are his m eat and blood som ehow identical w ith
his thinking self? A b o ve all, w hat is thought to hap p en w h en he
dies: does one part o f him go to the afterlife and an oth er rem ain
on the earth? I f so, how are the two parts separated — and has the
su rv iv o r in the afterlife also been a distinct com po n en t in his
m ake-up d uring m ortal life? I f instead there is no su ch se p a r­
ation, how docs the m yth o f an afterlife squ are w ith the fact that
the corpse has been b urnt or been put in the groun d to rot? S u c h
are the questions w e w ill try to answ er.
1 Jo h n D o n n e , H o ly S o n u eti 5 . 1 —4 .
4 Prologue

Reading H om er in isolation

"The Ilia d and Odyssey arc the oldest sustain ed d ocum en ts o f

G re e k trad itio n , so th e y are n atu rally o u r m ain so u rce .2 In
them \vc w ill be con cern ed w ith tw o d istin ct th in g s: first,
im p lic it co n cep ts o f h o w con sciousn ess and m ental life take
pluce in relatio n to the b o d y , and then exp licit n arratives o f the
p ro c e ss th ro u g h w h ich the d yin g m an ceases to he a livin g hodv
and b e co m e s so m eth in g else, w hether b u ried rem ain s or the
in h ab itan t o f a w o rld b eyo n d the g ra \e . 'I"h rsc tw o ep ics w ould
loom la rg e in any stu d y o f this kin d: but 1 propose to cake the
m ore u n u su a l step o f treatin g them la rg ely in isolation, sh u n ­
n in g the e v id e n c e o f arch aeo lo gy and o f later G re e k literature
and re lig io n . ~!~ht$ is an austere restrictio n , and it w ill lead us in
d iffe re n t d irectio n s fro m others w ho have m oved in the sam e
field. Its sim p le st ju stific atio n is a practical one. that since any
c u ltu re is c o m p le x and m an v-facetcd w e cannot fu lly u n d er­
stand one ot its con stitu en t tradition s if we filter it through
h a lt-d ig e ste d ev idence from others. B y doing that w e m ight
ign o re the gu ll b etw een the differen t settings in w hich the
c u ltu re e xp re sses itse lf, and circu lar argum en ts w ould await us
at e v e n · tu rn . L et m e illustrate this b y glan cin g at tw o fam ous
p assages fro m H o m e r, passages w h ich w ould be prom inent in
any sru d y o f life a lter death and esp ecially o f the vital w ord
,rh-'XTV· w h ic h tran slato rs h3vc been content to render as ‘so u l’.
B o th p a ssages w ill be d iscu ssed m ore fu lly in their place, and
fo r the m om en t I cite them on ly as exam ples o f rr.v approach.
F ir s t, in a tw ice-rep eated passage o f the Ilia d the νπ-χή

1 S p e c ia l p ro b le m » atten d the in clu sio n o f I lia d x an d the lest p o rtio n o f the

O d y tte y u n d e r th e h e ad in g o f ‘ 1lo m e r'. In ih e fo rm e r case I have been content
tn assu m e that the a u th o r o f th e D olon e ia w as d eep en o u gh in the rr.ainitream
tra d itio n o f J oiAt; fo r h is lan g u a g e an d idea» to be in clu d ed w ith iho»e o f
H o m e r p ro p e r (cf. H o in tw o rrh in vo l. j o f the C a m b rid g e C om m entary,
p. 1 5 5 ) . O n the p ro b le m n f the S e c o n d N c l.u ia in O d y ttey x x iv »ee ap p e n d ix
to Ch. ft. _ ,
' N o ta b ly S o u r v in a u - ln w o o d ( 19 0 5 ) . the latest su stain ed stu d y . P re vio u s
m o n o g ra p h s h ave ten d ed cith er to m ove back and forth b etw een literary and
a rc h a e o lo g ic a l e v id e n ce fo r re lig io u s b e lie f (e g. S c h n a u fe r ( 19 7 0 ) · ^ errneule
( 19 7 9 ) , G a r la n d ( 1 9 8 5 ) ) o r to restrict th em selves to the «tudy o f w o rd s as
o p p o se d to re lig io n o r id eas (c .g . C la u s ( 1 9 8 1 ) , Ja h n ( 19 S 7 ) ) · O n S o u rv in o u -
!n w o o d 's in c isiv e s tu d y see also n . f>4 b elo w .
 Homeric ll'ords and Homeric Ideas 5

departs from the d yin g m an and flics tn H ades, w ailin g in

lam entation as it goes:

«Sr apu jiiv « ί ι τ η ιτ ο rrA o r Οαΐ'άτοιο κάλυψ*'

,r'l'V) τπαμίντ) " liiSótrS«· ßtßyjxci,
ΰν ττϋτμον yoóuan, Λιττοίΐσ* <ίιδροτήτα Ηai ήβ>)ν.
(XVI. 8 5 5 -7 = XXII- 3^ 1- 3)

T o m ake sense o f this w e m ust co n vert the lines into a mental

picture o f what they m ean; hut they are very lean,14 w ith on ly a
few significant w o rd s to gu id e us: ψι·χή, <?«■ pcOtiue, -πταμίν-η . . .
β·βήκχί, ·)Όϋωση, .Wovon. A s w e w ill see in d u e cou rse, n early all
these w ords arc d ifficult and am b ig u o u s.1 A s w e try to llesh
them out evid en ce from the visual arts sp rin g s q u ick ly to m in d,
especially fo r ιτταμΐi-η, 'fiy in g '. Λ Roeotian larnax o f M y c e ­
naean date has a w in ged figure on it w h ich w as lon g ago
identified as one o f the d ead ;1* and several cen tu ries later
classical G re e k vases d ep ict the m om ent o f death w ith a little
b ird like soul fiyin g aw ay from the d yin g body.'' F u rth e r afield
the E g yp tian s depicted the sp irit o f the dead (ba) as a sm all

* O n the sirr-ile in the second X e k u ia , w h e re «he im age is e x te n d e d b y

c i i T p s n n ; the v e x y to a tu t (x x iv . 5 - 1 0 ) . see C li. 6 , p p . 19 3 , 2 1 3 - 1 4 , an d A p p .,
pp. 2 2 7 - S .
’ S e e C h . 5. e sp . p p . 1 5 1 —6 .
* S e e V erm e id e (19 7 9 ), 6 5 ; Im m e rw a h r (19 9 5 ).
O n artistic rep resen tation s o f d vgy as a hird see V e rm e id e ( 19 7 9 ) , e sp . 8,
1 7 —19 . 6 5; and fo r a p o ssib le literary co rrelate from ro u g h ly the sam e p e rio d
see S o p h . 0 7 ’ 17 4 —8. A n allied b u t d istin ct p ro b le m is posed by im ag es on
pots d ep ictin g p sych o stasy , w h e re the so u ls that are w e igh ed are again
depicted in the fo rm o f b ird s 'D ie m yth o f p sy c h o sta sy is not H o m e ric , but
w as d evelop ed in classical tim es on the a n alo g y u f the H o m e ric im age o f the
w eig h in g of r-rtf* t (xxu. 2 0 9 - 1 3 ; »1st» p e rh a p s in the A r lh io p it , o n w h ich see
b e rn a b e 's a p p aratu s to f ’ to c lu s’ s u m m a ry , lin es 14 —15 ) . F o r e x a m p le , in
A e sch ylu s· Ί 'ν χ ο σ τ απΛ, the so u ls o f M rm n n n and A c h ille s w ere ap p are n tly
w eighed on stupe (see schol. A on V I I I . 7 0 , schril. b V on X X I I . 209 , co m p lain in g
thut A e sch y lu s p e rv e rte d H o m e r's im age o f *,)/>«« into on e o f ^,υχηΐ). A tihouph
the w eigh in g o f so u ls is to all appearu ticcs un in n o v atio n w ith in the G ree k
trad itio n , it has a strik in g E g y p tia n co rre late in the w e ig h in g o f /»«-spirits ss
w ell as in the m ed iev al C h ristia n im ag e o f the w eig h in g o f soul» in St
M ic h a e l's scale* (see llnase ( 19 7 2 ) , 34 , figs. 2 2 , 2 3 ), V erm eid e ( 19 7 9 : 15 9 ­
62, w ith 246 n. 2 2) notes in a u se fu l d isc u ssio n that G r e e k artistic rep re se n ta­
tions o f the w e ig h in g vary the p attern co n sid e ra b ly and do not alw ays depen d
e iih e r on m]p o r ψ νχή.
0 Prologue
figure w ith w ings,* w hile M esopotam ian texts im agine the dead
in the afterlife as beings with feathers:

T o the house where those who enter are deprived of light.

Where dust is their food, clay their bread.
They see no lißht, they dwell in darkness,
They are clothed like birds, with feathers.’

T h is flotsam is fascinating in its w ay, but 1 am not sure it can

help us to understand the H om eric passage on its own terms.
T h e suggestion that the figure on the larnax is one o f the dead
depends solely on m odern scholars’ interpretation o f these
sam e p a ssa g es;1“ the b ird -so u ls on the fifth-century pots arc
very likely based on a rem iniscence o f H om er that was little less
im aginative than those o f m odern readers; and there can be no
guarantee w h atever that a coincidence o f im agery between
M esopotam ian or Egyp tian m aterial and the G reek poets
reflects a real connection in the w ays that the two cultures
conceived o f d eath .” T o understand this poetry we ought to try
to listen as its first audience would have done, and accordingly
it is within the H om eric corpus that we w ill look to draw
m eaning from the key w ord π τ α μ ίν τ ) , which is the only real
suggestion o f b irdlike flight in our passage. A s we w ill see (in
C h apter 5) there arc two other contexts where the idea o f flight
is evoked in sim ilar w ays: first, the w inged words o f Hom eric
* C o m p are d w ill) the G ree k ψυχή b y V erm eid e (19 7 9 ). 74-<>-
* T h e Descent 0 } D in a r to the U nderw orld, II. 7 - 1 0 in D ailey (19 0 O . ' 55-
·« O n the dangers o f tryin g to extract evid en ce o f death-m ythology from
M in o a n and M yccn u can artefacts sec S o u rv in o u -ln w o o d 's searching study o f
the m yth o f E ly s iu m (19 9 5 : 3>~S<>)· . .
" I f w e tried to use the M esopotam ian im age as an aid to interpreting the
H o m e ric p assages— rather than m erely as an interesting parallel— we would
have to deul w ith the fact that the feathery inhabitant o f the M esopotam ian
u n d erw o rld seem s to b e con ceived as the p hysical substance o f the dead— m
effect a m yth ologized version o f the corpse— rather than as som ething that
deports from it at death . T h is m eans that the link betw een the two im ages is
in direct 01 best. (O n M esopotam ian d eath -beliefs see esp. the collection o f
essu vs in A ls lc r (19 8 0 ).) T h e re is a sim ilar objection to the parallel o f the
E g y p tia n ha: despite the resem blance o f the bo in the shape o f a hum an­
headed b ird to the classical im age o f the b ird lik e ψυχή, the ba .s not * ° m e‘ h ,“ S
that escapes from d ie body at death; instead, it dw ells m the tom b w ith he
co rp se and on ly leaves te m p o rarily to flit unseen into the u p p er w orld .ft the
h ou rs o f d a ylig h t (see S p e n c e r (19 8 2 ). S& -9. «84·)
 Homeric Words and Homeric Ideas 7
speech, Into. itrcpocvro., and then a group o f passages where
gods arc likened to, or transform ed into, flying birds when they
soar between heaven and the w orld o f men. I f we set aside ail
remoter parallels and turn instead to these kindred images, we
can try to anchor ourselves in the verbal substance o f H om er
rather than the pictures evoked by one isolated image in the
modern imagination; and if we can then read the passage with a
new and more tenacious understanding o f flight and its signifi­
cance in m yth, or indeed in cosm ology, I hope we will come a
step closer to understanding what really happen^ to Hom eric
man when he dies and passes into the afterlife.
M y second exam ple relates to a later stage in the process of
death, the moment when the corpse is ritually cremated. T h e
passage is one o f the m ost striking in O dysseus’ visit to Hades,
where his m other’s ghost explains why the dead like h erself are
strengthless and insubstantial:
άλλ’ α ΰ τ η δίκτ) «σ τί β ρ ο τ ώ ν , S r t τ ις κ ι O dvrpα ίν ­
ο υ γ ά ρ ΐ τ ι σ ά ρ κ α ς τ< κ α ι ό ο τ ΐα ιν ις (χ ο υ α ιν ,
άλλα τη μ ί ν τ ι -πυράς κ ρ α τ ιρ ο ν μ ίν α ς α ίΰ υ μ ίν ο ιο
δ α μ ν ά ι, i n t i κ ι π ρ ώ τ α λιττη ι λ ι ύ κ ’ ό ο τ ΐα θ υ μ ό ς ,
ψ υ χ ή δ ' ή ΰ τ ’ ό ν α ρ ο ς ά π ο π τ α μ ίν η τ κ π ό τ η τ α ι. (χΐ. 2 1 8 —2 2 )

On the face o f it she is talking about two things, the destruction

of the corpse by fire and the flitting movem ent o f the ψυχή: that
much is clear, but very little more. T h e sequence o f ideas is
i very difficult, and it is deceptively easy to interpret the whole
passage through a neat scheme o f religious history. On
common sense grounds it is easy to assum e that the burning
j of the corpse must be the pivotal moment o f the soul’s journey
to the afterlife,12 and then to filter the passage through the
* modern— or at least post-H om eric— idea that the burning o f
the corpse is imagined as enabling the spirit to escape from the
body.” Speculation about cremation can easily be influenced
^ cc N agy (19900: 8 5 * 12 6 ) for an argum ent based on In d o-E u rop ean
parallel« between H om eric and H indu m aterial w hich em phasizes the place o f
the burning in the afterlife jo u rn ey in 11 w ay that is not justified b y w hat I can
find in the observable m eanings o f ψυχή and related w ords in the texts. T h is
does not im ply that N a g y 's argum ent is in valid, only that in term s o f our
present approach it could be said to p u l the cart before the horse,
See e.g. R ohde (19 2 5 ), 18 - 2 2 , and c f. S c h n au fe r (t9 7o), 58—63. T h e
theme is com m on in R om an renderings o f the jo u rn e y o f death__ as
1 Prologue
h y a rm ch a ir Anthropology, for w hich it is n perfect 'rite o f
p assage , and even m ore insid iou sly b y the
controversy over
cre m atio n and inhum ation w hich has been carried
c a m e o forward
torwnrd
C n t h o liè r K V‘nCS a,Ul rC' CrciUcd <for « « » » P ic ) through the
C a th o lic L hurch s insistence on inhum ation.'* T h en inferences
i m arc laeo lo g y creep in. A s is well know n, M ycenaean burial
p ractice is dom inated b y inhum ation, w hile Inter G reek prac­
tice is d om in ated by crem ation; '1 given that crem ation is
cen tral to the fun erals described by H om er, one can infer
that A n ticlcia is exp o u n d in g n post-M yccnncnn belief that the
b o d y m u st be d isso lved by fire in order to release the soul for
its jo u r n e y to H a d e s.,n But archaeological evidence for ritual
p ra c tic e s is no guide to what the nneients thought they were
d o in g w h en they carried them out, if only beenuse the relation­
sh ip b etw een b e lie f and sym b o lic action is always fluid and
u n g u e ssa b le .' F o r us, how ever, the most telling point is that in
o th er referen ces to crem ation H om er im plies that its purpose is
to fittin g ly h o n o u r the dead person, rather than to nehieve the
so u l’ s d ep artu re to H ades. F u rth er, in the Little Iliad— perhaps
p o st-H o m c ric , but from the sam e cultural horizon '”— the story
w as told that A ja x w as buried w ithout crem ation expressly in
o rd e r to d ish o n o u r him for having insulted Agam em non and

P r o p e r tiu s ' 'lu rid a q iie evicto s effu git um bro ro gos' (.}. 7. 2)— but its G reek
e x e m p la r is n ot n o rm al dcn th-lore but the extraord in ary story o f H eracles'
im m o la tio n o n M l. O cta. T in s story· is not d irectly attested in H om er, but
it is w o rth n o tin g that in the earliest G ree k accounts H eracles is burned
a liv e , as in S o p h o c le s ’ T rach in iae. S e e also S tin to n (191)0).
'■* T h e ch a n g e from crem atio n to inhum ation in the early im perial period of
R o m e can n o t he satisfa c to rily e xp lain ed in term s o f beliefs about the afterlife,
an d th e re is n o e vid e n ce that it w as linked to the rise o f m ystery religions,
te m p tin g th o u g h it is to associate in hum ation w ith the C h ristian doctrine of
b o d ily re su rre c tio n . S e c M o rr is (19 9 2 ). 3 1 - 4 2 ; also N ock (19 7 2 ), w ith detailed
d o cu m e n ta tio n . O n the w id e r issues M o rris (19 8 7 ) is particu larly helpful,
a lo n g w ith H u n tin g d o n an d M e tc a lf (|Q79)·
II S e c C h . Λ n. 56.
“ S e e e .g . D o d d s ( 1 9 5 1 ) , ΐ 3^>-7·
17 S e c M o r r is ( 19 9 2 : ch. I, esp. 1 5 - 1 7 ) for 0 sub tle treatm ent o f this issue.
III G iv e n that in the N eku ia (χ ι. 54 3-Λ 2 ) H o m er alludes to A ja x ' suicide in a
w a y that fits e xactly w ith the su rv iv in g accounts o f the U t ile Ilia d , it seem s
re a so n a b le to g u ess that the idea o f dish on ou rable inhum ation accords w ith
H o m e ric attitu d es to the γίρ α ς ffa io .T c a r. O n the inhum ation o f A jnx see
fu rth e r C h . 6, p. 18 7 w ith n. 62.
 I Inmeric Worth anti Homeric Idem <t
!)κ·η killed him self. W ith this in m ind, when we grapple closely
with the gram m ar o f A nticleia's words we will see that she is
not saying that the ι/myrj is released from the hody by the action
o f the flame: both events take place after death, but she makes
no causal link between them. T h is will enable us to read the
passage in a way that is honest towards the G reek, so that we
can focus on the problem which will turn out to he the kernel of
understanding it: if θυμός escapes from the bones o f the dying
person (2 2 1), how does this event relate to A nticleia's state­
ment that a ψυχή flutters or flits about, ηίνότητηι f222)? Only by
struggling with this will we be able to trace the connection o f
ideas in her speech— and, incidentally, to wipe away the
seeming discrepancy between it and what is implied elsewhere
in the poem and throughout the Iliad, where the loss o f ψυχή is
the gasping out o f the last breath.
I hope this restricted approach will bring us a little closer
than we might otherwise have come to the mental world of
Homer and his audience. It seems to me that it provides the
only sure path to an accurate reading, because it makes no
assum ptions about the links between different species of
tradition and creativity or sim ply about the w ay early Greeks
used words and pictures to express ideas. But by remaining
within the narrow ambit o f two long poems w e face the danger
that they are thoroughly dead and divorced from their original
context, so that no-one will contradict us if we analyse them
wrongly. T h is means we must start with a careful discussion of
what we think we will he doing as we try to interpret them.

Religion and world-picture

T h e outstanding difficulty is that we will be using language and
narratives as sources for the sort o f thing that would nowadays
be called religious ideas. C learly it would be glib and lazy to
take the text to bits and heap all the relevant fragments of
words and ideas together as witness to a single monolithic body
o f beliefs.,g It seems a good (if im provable) rule that epic or any
T liis problem con stan tly recurs (to me at leastl in reading T illyord
( i 0 4 j) . flerhaps tile m ost celebrated E nglish essay in studying a w orld-picture
through a b o d y o f literature, in this case principally Shakespeare and other
Elizabethan literati. B y explain in g every passage he cites as a rellection of
ίο Prologue
other G reek genre should be regarded not as celebratory but ns
exploratory.20 In m atters o f religion in particular the artist in
w ords docs not sim ply reproduce revealed truths, rather he
explores the possibilities that arc olTercd within a m uch
broader fram ew ork; and it is not easy, not necessarily possible,
for the m odern reader to enter this fram ew ork. H ere it is worth
citing the exam ple o f C hristiane S o u rvin o u -Im v o o d ’ s recent
work on this problem o f interpreting G reek religion .21 For
S o u rvin o u -In w o o d , creativity takes place in the gaps, or
'in terstices', offered w ithin what she defines as ‘ the param eters
o f established b e lie f.22 I f what reaches the light o f day within
these param eters is som ehow coherent, that need not mean that
it is sim ple; and it m ay raise problem s rather than solve them.
S o u rvin o u -In w o o d distinguishes deeply rooted beliefs, ideo­
logies, and 'collective representations’ 22 on the one hand from
their literary, cultic, and artistic 'articulations’ on the other.
W here a given im age or b elief is concerned, individual w orks o f
art, rituals, stories, and poem s can come to birth in different
w ays w hile ultim ately depending on a single cultural unity: and
this unity is borne out because each articulation em erges
according to a generative pattern or 'schem a' which is itself
fixed in the cu ltu re.24 O ur search, sim ilarly, m ust be for the
com m on patterns w hich inform different articulations o f a

‘ E lizabethan b e lie f', T lU yard e ffe ctiv e ly redu ces the au th o r's idcus to p lati­
tudes. A rg u a b ly the sam e p ro b le m recurs in m ore elusive form s in som e w orks
o f intellectual h isto ry in the m odern F re n ch tradition (c.g. A rie s ( lu S i) ;
M cM u n n e rs ( 1 9 8 1 ) ) .
30 F u n eral orations are the o n ly exception know n to m e.
31 S o u rv in o u -In w o o d ( 19 9 1 ) , (19 9 5 ).
33 F o r a b rie f exp osition see S o u rv in o u -In w o o d (19 9 5 ), 1 0 —ifi.
31 D u rk h c in i's all-en com passin g phrase: sec E v an s-P ritch ard (19 6 5 ),
53- * 9·
34 'A fte r the analyses o f the indis idual articu lation s have taken place these
d ifferent articu lation s should b e com pared to each other; this w ill determ ine
the param eters o f variation in the m eanings articulated in that m yth or
m yth ological n exu s . . . W hen such an alyses arc con ducted, the inescapable
con clu sion is reached that the different version s o f a m yth , for exam ple the
m yth s o f fath e r-so n h ostility, arc oil shaped b y a basic u n d erlyin g schem a
w hich stru ctu res (w ith variation s) all varian ts. T h is schem e is itse lf stru c­
tured b y , and thus exp resses os ''m e sso g e s” , perceptions w h ich correspond to
the social realities and ideo logies o f the society w h ich pro duced them '
(S o u rv in o u -In w o o d ( 19 9 1) , 19 - 2 0 ) .
 Homeric IVords atnl Homeric Ideas 1*
single idea about the nature o f hum an identity; and since the
disparate im ages w hich we w ill stu d y are all set in a sin g c
poetic tradition, our success w ill depend on id en tifyin g the
structures— the equivalen t o f S o u rv in o u -In w o o d s sch e­
m ata'— w hich the poet follow s w hen he b rin gs this w o rld to
birth in verse.
It follow s that nothing is to be gained by tryin g to extract
system atic doctrine from w hat H o m er says. T h is is a point on
which even an unconscious an alogy betw een G re e k lore and
established m odern religion can be very’ m islead in g. L e t me
take an exam ple from the tradition in w hich I m y se lf h appen to
be steeped. M ary M c C a rth y in her Memories o f a Catholic
Girlhood tells a good story about the school lesson w here she
was taught the doctrine o f the R esu rrectio n o f the B o d y.*3 S h e
challenged the teacher with the case o f the cann ibal: if the
atoms o f his victim s' bodies arc incorporated into his flesh one
after another until he dies, who w ill be given w h ich atom s
when their bodies are resurrected on the L a st D ay? T h e
question is interesting, and not o n ly to a su b v ersiv e ch ild — as
it happens, m edieval frescos o f the resurrection o f the dead on
Judgem ent D ay pursue the sam e doctrine to the p o in t o f
show ing w ild anim als vom iting out the bodies o f people they’
have eaten;26 and it is very instructive that the teach er’s an sw er
was that 'these are difhcult questions and the Church has
answers fo r them' (m y italics). I f this C ath o lic d octrin e o f the
afterlife claim s to be com plete, coherent, and self-su ffic ien t,
with no loopholes or grey areas, it can do so because it p u rp o rts
to depend on divine revelation channelled through a book and a
h* man institution founded and presid ed o ver b y d iv in ity .
H om er and his M u se claim a different kind o f au th o rity, the
authority o f traditional tales told in a traditional poetic la n ­
guage, and it is not their purpose to exp ress a w o rld -v ie w that
could be worked out in so schem atic a w a y . W here does that
leave us if we want to talk m ean in gfully about the v iew o f the
world that they do in fact com m unicate? Ί his H o m eric w o r ld ­
view, or indeed the whole corp us o f early G reek lore ab o u t the
w orld, must not be seen as a flat plane w ith a jig sa w pattern o f
interrelated doctrines but as som ethin g m ore c o m p lex and

M c C a r t h y ( 1 0 5 7 ). π Doasc (1972). 37 with fig. 36.

I2 Prologue
open -ended: in the w ords o f one scholar, n 'structured array o f
cultural foci . , , round each o f which cluster various ideas,
im ages and narrative m o tifs':17 hut by accepting that, are we
debarred from seeking som e overarching unity in what is
expressed there am ong w ords nnd im ages nnd stories?
It w ill be respectable, if no m ore, sim ply to follow the
w orkin g hypothesis that in some tcay or other the H om eric
poem s hear w itness to a single significant cultural unity. We
w ill 'in terpret H om er out o f H o m er',3* but with the em phasis
less on H om er as an individual personality (w hatever that
m eans) than on the controlling influence o f the tradition o f
hexam eter epic, ιίοιδτ}, w hich inform s the epics that go under
his nam e. ύοιδ?/, according to the hypothesis, com m unicates a
view o f mnn and the w orld that is coherent, independent, and
self-su stain ed . N o doubt its elem ents entered it from disparate
extern al sources, w hether in song or religion or older n arrat­
ives; but w ithin the tradition they came together in n controlled
un ity w hich can only be understood in terms o f <!nt$tj itself.
T h e sim plest justification o f this approach is ns n case o f
O ccn m 's razor— it is better to seek a sim ple and ordered
interpretation than n com plex nnd disordered one. If we
credit H om er with a coherent view o f the world we wdl look
m ore vigo ro u sly for m eaning than we would have done if we
assum ed in advance that he is capable of contradicting h im ­
se lf.3'’ F o r exam ple: when we face an array o f passages hinging
on the w ord m Jp fC'h 7. p.w iin ), and at first sight thev seem to
refer to different ideas o f the causation ol death, the b« >1 policy
w ill be to seek to un cover some com m on idea linking the
passages, rather than sim ply to say that the poet or poets
responsible had no coherent idea of what late is. In this case,

»* M o n d t (tooed. t * 5 . fo r d ifferen t x e n io n * o f »hr »«me point »er M rn n gtn n

l i o * 5 eh. j t . and 5 -m ild tlo S O , w ith »he deeper •m inding» ol V e in e II08.O
th is ton fio o « I 5 5 - 0 .0 . al»o d ncu»*e* the p to b lem ol a itliiiiiu ii »» o e n i w hete
« h a t w e call belief» ate m oulded b y the context» w h ete ihev aie rn unctated
\* an e x a m p le o f how io cope w iih the p io h le m , I have been m uch helped h\
S o u rs m o o - In w ood '» c*»a> »ut >rh-cen« v o ln e /'»'•lutn Horn l - i x t n U 0 0 1
14 7 —8 8 ). in tiM n if that *no a ip e c l ol a d eitv lint an\ sign ifican ce when
se p o ia trd fron* i n o rgan ic con text’ (15 0 ) and then exp lo rin g 'the dou ble
point ol le fc te n e e . n arrative-m yth o lo gical and conceptual (15 h )
*· O n the o rig in al m eaning o f A ristarc h u s’ policy »er I’o rle t f l o o r ) , 7 0 -8 5 .
w Is rhi» the p rin cip le o f anthropological ch arily?
 Homerie Wardt and Homeric Idem '3
indeed, I hope to be able to show that our initial im pression o f
vagueness has little to do w ith κήρ itself and m uch m ore to do
with the cultural b aggage that we ourselves carry around in
vvfirds like ’ fate’ , ‘d o om ’ , or even 'd eath '. I f it really is true that
there is no unity in this or any other departm ent o f H om eric
ideas, the best possible p ro o f would be our failure to find it in
over three hundred pages.

Words and ideas y

On its own, how ever, that argum ent is not enough. In practice
our problem o f cultural un ity will loom largest in the issue o f
the relationship between language and ideas. F o r exam ple,
when we study the jo u rn e y to the afterlife w e w ill first try to
understand the word ψυχή ami then to interpret the narratives
where it com es m ost clearly into prom inence. A s n sim ple
word, ns we w ill sec, it denotes the d yin g m an 's last breath; but
when the φνχή ol Patroclus or I lecto r (lies to H ades we m ove
from w ords to m yth. B y this I do not mean m yth as a species o f
narrative, the sense in w hich the word is norm ally used by
classical sc h o la rs;'" for our purposes m yth or ‘ the m ythical*
must be defined m ore as a w ay o f describ in g the furniture o f
the world and the events of hum an life so that they are im bued
with shapes and personalities o f a hind that everyd ay eyes
cannot see W ith the (light ot the ψν\ή I lo m er goes beyond
the horiron ol visib le exp erien ce und enters this higher,
im agined plane ol unseen things that can only he seen with
the privileged \ imou o f the poet or the god. O nce we aie on that
plane, vvo m ust begin an overall sttulv o f the lore o f H ades. But
is it reasonable to m ove in a single investigation from the
linguistic m eaning ol the w ord I " the cosm ological or
religious m eaning ot the jo u rn ey to the Beyond? T h e
difficulty is in the attem pt to vvotk on several levels o f
com m unication at once, ranging from a single problem o f
w ord-definition lo com plex poetic im agery and tinullv to o ver­
all beitels about hum an identity and life after death. It those
beliefs can be approached at all they m ust be part o f a w orld-
picture, a system o f received ideas about the nature o f m an and
,l' Sc«? r K. G uf (io o j ), t - 8; flu x io n (lo u -p . i$ .
14 Prologue
things. T h is im plies som e kind o f un ity, a sin gle vista rather
than a collection o f random and unrelated im ages. T h e en quiry
w ill only m ake sense if there really is a single picture to be
extracted from these w ords and m yths; but the sceptic can
object that there is no reason to b elieve that this is so, and that
w hen we d raw them together in that w ay we o ver-sim p lify the
G re e k realities or fit them into an artificial structure o f o u r own
m aking.
In a w ay this problem o f language and ideas has less to do
w ith H om er than w ith the com plexities o f the culture that you
and I live in today. F o r exam ple, no an thropologist who
w anted to an alyse m odern W estern b eliefs about life after
death w ould try to in fer a coherent body o f ideas from the
resou rces availab le in ev eryd ay speech to render m ortality,
b urial and the afterlife. T h e se resources cannot be studied as
a sin gle system , because they have strayed in from chaotically
disparate sources and m any o f them arc literary fossils. C o n ­
sid e r the fo llo w in g ju stly fam ous attem pt to render the idea
'This parrot is dead’ in as m any w ays as possible in 1970s
E n glish :
I k n o w a d ead p a r r o t w h e n I se e o n e a n d I 'm lo o k in g at on e rig h t now
. . . h e 's sto n e d e a d . . . T h a t p a rro t is d e fin ite ly d ec e a se d . H e ’ s
d e m is e d , h e ’ s p a s s e d o n ; th is p a rro t is no m o re , h e h as c eased to b e ,
lie ’ s e x p ir e d an d g o n e to m e e t h is M a k e r , h e 's a s tiff; b e re ft o f life he
re s ts in p ea c e; i f y o u h a d n ’ t n a ile d h im to h is p e rc h h e 'd b e p u sh in g
u p th e d a is ie s ; h e 's o f f th e tw ig , h e ’ s c u rle d u p h is to o tsie s, h e 's
s h u ffle d o f f th is m o rta l c o il, lie ’s ru n g d o w n th e c u rta in and jo in e d the
c h o ir in v is ib le ; lie 's s n u ffe d it; v is - a - v is th e m e ta b o lic p ro c e sse s h e 's
h ad h is lo t; all sta te m e n ts to th e e ffe c t th a t th is p a rro t is a g o in g
c o n c e rn a re fr o m n o w o n in o p e ra tiv e ; th is is an e x -p a r ro t!

Ideas are flyin g from countless directions— Ju d a ic scriptures,

A n g lican litu rg y; hackneyed m etaphors drawn from candles,
leaves, b usiness ventu res, "all the w o rld ’s a stage’ and other
Sh akespearean tags; the eup hem istic association o f death with
sleep; polite periphrases and E ast En d w h im sy. I he parts do
not need to cohere w ith each other because each o f them
originates in a separate context and system o f ideas. A n y one
11 'D e a d P arro t Sk etch *, on die record ed version en titled M o n iy Pyth on
L iv e a t D ru ry L a n e.
 Homeric Words and Homeric Ideas •5
o f these system s m ay be alive in the m in d o f the sp eak er or
listener but m ay eq u ally b elong in a cu ltu ral co n text that is now
thoroughly forgotten; and because the sp eak er its ctw een
them and com bines them w ith pro d u cts o f his o w n tim e, he can
com m unicate effectively even w hen his im ages co n trad ict each
other flatly in their superficial m eanin g. I f w e w ere to su b ject
them to the kind o f questions that we w ill be ask in g o f H o m er,
every phrase w ould yield a differen t an sw er. S o m e tim e s the
identity o f the dead parrot is tied to the b o d y , as he s a s tiff ;
som etim es it is tied to his sp irit, as 'he s sh u flle d ^ jff this m ortal
coil’ ; som etim es it has been an n ih ilated , as this is an e x ­
parrot’ . T h e re is no need to ap o lo g ize for u sin g an exam p le
from com edy, because the sam e sort o f chaos w o u ld em erge if
wc tried to put together all the d ifferen t im ages o f death
im plied by the language o f tom b ston es in a sin g le ch u rch y a rd ,
or even that o f a single poet o r th eologian . N o t o n ly w o u ld they
lack internal coherence, they w o u ld also relate in no clear or
tangible w ay to any one system o f b eliefs ab o u t death, least o f
all those o f the speaker h im self. B ecau se su ch lan g u age is
hybrid and m any-faceted and en m eshed in an en d less p ro cess
o f cultural developm ent, in its p ro d u cts w e can n ot h o pe to find
an easy m arriage betw een the elem en ts o f the sp e a k e r’s
repertoire, or still less betw een his w o rd s and the ideas they
com bine to express.
A n y reader w ould agree that H o m eric G r e e k is d ifferen t
from that, hut it is harder to say w hat the d ifferen ce is. A t this
point it w ould be easy to take refu ge in one o r an oth er version
o f the oral theory', w hich has dom inated H o m e ric stu d ies in
English since the initial influence o f M ilm a n P a rry . W ithou t
relying on m ore than w hat can be o b served w ith in the poem s
them selves, wc can take it that H o m er rep resen ts a tradition ,
best called by its G reek nam e o f ΰοιδ^, in w h ich neith er
com position nor perform an ce depen ded on w ritin g ,32 and in•

• D espite the eleRancc o f m o d ern th eo ry (c sp . G o o d y ( 1 0 7 7 , 1 0 8 7 ) ) I

cannot pretend to un derstan d o ra lity ; b u t one p o in t is v ita l. T h e g u lf b etw een
the arts o f oral and w ritten co m p o sitio n is not n e c e ssa rily os d e c isiv e as w as
fo rm erly su p p o sed , and it w o u ld be d an g ero u s to fo llo w L o r d ( 10 6 0 · 12 0 ) in
a n o T ,nft T i he V.V° I,cch n i(l u c s ] CUU' J no« p o s sib ly co m b in e to fo rm
c ü n ir M ' " ,r a n s ' ,io n u l” tech n iq u e". T h is m e a n , that w hen we
con sider H o m e r in term s o f oral c o m p o sitio n , w e m ean o n ly that the p o e try
 16 Prologue
w h ich v erses and n arratives arc b u ilt up out o f traditional and
m o rc -o r-lc ss fo rm u laic patterns and units. /:.v hypothesi, these
patterns and units operate in tandem nt every level o f the poet’s
art. F o r exam p le, on the largest scale an extended narrative
m igh t have com e into being either as the reproduction o f an
inh erited sto ry, o r as the articulation o f a new sto ry along a
tradition al pattern, or as a com bination o f both in the rcm ould-
ing o f an old sto ry for a particular n arrative or rhetorical
p u rp o se ;15 the sequen ce o f a single scene m ight be structured
th ro ugh the m anipulation o f a traditional pattern or tem plate;14
w h ile on the sm allest scale a single line o f verse m ight be a unit
inh erited in toto from H o m er’ s forebears, or it m ight be a new
line b u ilt on a trad ition al fram ew ork, or it m ight be a com bina­
tion o f fo rm u laic w o rd -gro u p s in a traditional sh ap e.15 In each
takes its cre a tiv e te ch n iq u e s, its rep ertoire, and its aesthetic fro m the oral
tra d itio n , n ot that the I lia d and O dyssey n ecessarily took th eir final shape in a
n o n -litcriitc e n v iro n m e n t. O n this poin t, see E d w a rd s (19 8 8 ); P ohlm an n
(19 9 0 ), i t ; S c h w a b l (19 9 0 ); T a p lin (10 0 2 ) . 3 5 - 7 ; T h o m a s (19 9 2 ), 44—50.
hut c f. W e st (19 9 0 ) and Ja n k o (19 9 2 : 2 9 -3 8 ), defen d in g the d ich otom y (at
least in n lim ite d fo rm ) b y gu essin g that a recogn izably fixed ve rsio n of each
e p ic co u ld not have em e rg e d w ithou t w ritten exem p lars. Ja n k o ’ s latest
co n trib u tio n (19 9 8 ) su g g e sts (to me nt least) that the debate on this qu estion
is n o lo n g e r lik e ly to he fru itfu l; w h ile N a g y 's m ost am b itiou s fo rm u lation
( 19 9 6 : 2 9 - 6 3 ) is a re m in d e r o f the co m p le x ity o f w hat m ay have happened
w h en an o ral text w a s d issem in ated .
11 O n th is I have learn t m u ch fro m the long scries o f articles on H o m e ric
d e p lo y m e n t o f m y th s ns p a ra d n g m a ta . E a rlie r con cern w ith d istin gu ish in g
trad itio n fro m in ven tio n (c .g . W illco ck (19 6 4 ). B rasw ell ( l 07«); for u critiq u e
o f th e ir a p p ro a c h e s sec N a g y ( 1 9 9 2 a ) ) has been replaced by the p rin cip le that
I lo m e r o r h is ch aracte rs adapt and rem odel existin g m yths alo n g traditional
stru ctu ra l p a tte rn s fo r a d hoc p u rp o ses, so that a given articu lation can be
sim u lta n e o u sly trad itio n al and creative. S e e in p articu lar B rem m er (19 8 8 ). on
P h o e n ix ' u se o f the sto ry o f M e le ag e r in the co n text o f A c h ille s' w ithdraw al
fro m b attle (ix. 5 2 4 - 6 0 5 ). _
»·* p a rtic u la rly u se fu l h e re has been F e n ik 's s tu d y (19 6 8 ) o f the typical
s tru c tu re s o f b a ttle-sce n e s, and h is b riefe r e ssay (1978ft) on m onologue
sp e ec h es; olso T a p lin ( 19 9 2 : 7 4 - 8 * ) on the stru ctu res shored b y d ifferent
e p iso d e s o f v is it and h o sp ita lity . F en ik em phasizes the fluid ity o f H o m e r's use
o f th ese 'stru c tu ra l te m p la te s' b y stre ssin g the point that th ey have no
in d e p e n d e n t statu s and e x ist on ly in each o f the varian t fo rm s un der w hich
th ey are b ro u g h t to b irth . 'T h e notion o f a sin gle , definitive (i.e. perfect)
a rc h ety p e is m isle ad in g , fo r it is a con cep t d raw n from the literary h istory o f
an o th er nge an d tim e ' (19 6 8 t 36).
” O n H o m e r's m an ip u latio n o f stru ctu ral fo rm u lae and read y -m ad e w ord -
 Homeric Words and Homeric Ideas »7
case, the tradition m oulds the poet's creativity both by draw ing
him along set structural patterns and by pro vid in g him with
ready-m ade units o f com position. I f the poetry is dom inated b y
such structures it m akes sense to suppose that the tradition is
speaking through the poet, rather than to regard him as
strugglin g to exp ress h im self w ithin strict and cram ping
lim its. H ere, rhen, is a w ay to begin pin nin g down the
difference between H om er and the m an with the dead parrot:
there is less reason to exp ect a tension herween the thing
expressed and the vocab u lary for exp ressin g itv bccausc both
alike arc part o f a single tradition o r the stock-in -trad e o f a
single M use. T h e poet’s im agination and invention arc shaped
by άοιδή, and it prescrib es both the things that are sun g o f and
the w ords in w hich those things take shape.
H ere again, how ever, the problem o f language and ideas
em erges in a new guise. T h e m ore we em phasize the co n ­
trolling and d irectin g po w er o f this tradition, the greater the
tem ptation to regard it as restrictive o f poetic freedom and
precision. T h e balance is difficult. W hen the oral hypothesis
is crudely applied, it is easy to say that the sequence o f
individual w ords in H om er is vague and w o olly because the
poet is ham pered by the need to fit his thought into shapes
that are un w ield y because th ey are form id aic. P arry h im self
began w ith the (w holly subjective) assum ption that epithets
must be sem antically insignificant because they serve a
m echanical function in b u ild in g the line out to the end o f
the sixth foot;36 and even after h a lf a centu ry com m entators
continue to assum e that form ulaic language is inherently
vague, as if the poet w ere tryin g in vain to w ield w ords

grou p s in com position w h ich is both trad itio n al and creative, the m ost usefu l
recent stu d y has been M a rtin (19 8 g ), esp. 16 4 - 6 .
1,1 N o te e sp ec ially M . P a rry ( 1 9 7 1 [ l 9 ï S ] ), 1 2 7 : ’T h e fixed epithet . . . odds
to the com b in ation o f su b stan tiv e an d epithet an elem ent o f gran deur, but no
m ore than that . . . Its sole effect is to fo rm , w ith its su b stan tiv e, a heroic
expression o f the idea o f that su b sta n tiv e . A s he g ro w s aw are o f this the reader
acqu ires an in sen sib ility to an y p a ssib le p articu larised m eaning o f the epithet,
and this in sen sib ility b eco m es on in tegral part o f his un derstan din g o f the
I Iom cric*»tyle.‘ P a rry m o ve s e ffo rtle ssly fro m the exp erien ce o f ‘the read e r’ or
‘ the student* to that o f the o rig in a l aud ien ce o f the ep ics and back to the
com m u n icative act o f the b ard h im se lf.
18 Prologue
with the freedom and suppleness that pen and paper would
provide.·17
T h is assum ption is hard to avoid, because its roots arc deep
in the w ay that the m odern w orld thinks about language and
expects w ords to com m unicate ideas. A recent w riter on this
problem 38 has neatly identified what he calls ‘ the conduit
m etaphor', the pattern b y w hich people tend to imagine
w ords as packages filled w ith ideas, parcelled up b y the speaker
and sent to his listener to be opened up and understood. We
‘capture an im age in a poem ’ , we ‘ put an idea into w o rd s’, we
‘ load a sentence w ith m eaning’ , it is ‘pregnant w ith unspoken
thoughts’ , and so on. W ords arc im agined as containers or
receptacles o f m eaning, and it follow s from this that any
restriction on free choice in the selection o f w ords w ill be
im agined as preventing the poet from ‘ fitting’ his ideas into
p recisely the right verbal shapes. O ne who b rin gs this to bear
on his reading m ay tend to assum e that an oral Hom er,
com posin g in perform ance under acute pressure o f time,
m ust have done this jo b less d eftly than a literate poet with
liberty to rub things out and revise them ; and consequently
that reader w ill be discouraged from listening to H om er’s
individual w o rd s as closely as he m ight.
T h is is w hy 1 want to follow a m ore flexible and positive
m odel for H om eric com m unication, relying on the minimal
assum ption that the poet’s ideas are not squeezed into words
but take shape in and through those w ords, with the verbal
signs correspon din g precisely to the poetic m eanings conveyed.
On one level this can be well expressed in the w ords Phem ius
h im self chooses to describe his inspiration, w here the M use has
‘plan ted ’ the w ays o f song in his m ind,
β ιο ς S i μ ο ι <V <f>(woiv ο ΐμ α ς
n a v r o i a s tviif> votv . . . (xxii. 347“ ®)

and it can eq u ally be rendered in the m ore sober language o f

sch olarsh ip: as J .B . H ain sw orth has recently written, the
structures, patterns and other generative processes o f the
poetical gram m ar [are] prim ary and the form ulas an incidental

,T S e c n ow th e sh rew d critiq u e b y B ak k e r ( ΐ 997· *3“ *S and passim).

1 * R e d d y (19 9 3 ).
 Homeric Words and Homeric Ideas 19

result o f their use.’ 1* T h e im plication is that w o rd and idea are

tailor-m ade for each other. A version o f the sam e prin ciple has
been form ulated by G re g o ry N a g y:
T h e fo rm u la ic h e rita g e o f th ese c o m p o s itio n s is an a c c u ra te re fle c tio n
o f « h e r th e m a tic h e rita g e . S u c h a theory h e lp s a c c o u n t fo r the
p ro b le m s ra ise d b y P a r r y 's th e o ry o f th e fo rm u la . D id th e p o et
really m ean th is or that? D .d he re a lly in te n d s u c h - a n d -s u c h an a rtis tic
effect? M y g e n e ra l a n s w e r w o u ld be th a t the a r t is tic in te n t is in d e e d
p re se n t— but that this in te n t m u st b e a s sig n e d n o t s im p ly o n e P oct
but also to c o u n tle ss g e n e ra tio n s o f p r e v io u s p o e ts s te e p e d in th e sa m e
trad itio n s . . . T h e k ey is n o t so m u c h th e g e n iu s o f H o m e r b u t the
ge n iu s o f th e o v e ra ll p o e tic tra d itio n th at c u lm in a te d in o u r I l i a d and
O dyssey.*0

In short, the poct is the m aster and not the slave o f his
inheritance, w hile at the sam e tim e his c re ativity is in tim ately
united with the canons w hich the tradition p rescrib es; so that
when he expresses a w o rld -p ictu re in w o rd s and sto ries, his
own creative pow er is part and parcel o f w h at that w o rld -
picture is. T h e re is a perfect harm on y betw een fo rm and
meaning, between the nuts and bolts o f fo rm u laic language
and the ideas that the language aim s to co n v ey. Ideas take
shape in w ords and w ords take shape in verse, so H o m eric ideas
cannot be considered in isolation from H o m eric cra ft. H ere,
then, is one w ay to avoid the charge that the m ethod is cru de
and sim plistic: it w ill turn out that although H o m e r’s scattered
linages o f hum an identity' and ψυχή are m ore than a patchw ork,
none the less they are not a seam less garm en t, because the
coherence o f the parts w ill reveal itse lf o n ly w hen th ey are
considered in term s o f poetic creativity as w ell as b eliefs and
concepts as such.
' H ain sw orth (19 9 3 ). 3. T h e r e is n o w little su p p o rt fo r th e m o re d o gm atic
version o f M ilm an P a r ry 's con ten tion that the m ech an ics o f H o m e ric v e rse -
m aking dep rive certain w o rd s o f active m ean in g. In p a rtic u la r, h is b asic
argum ent nbout the in terch an geab ility o f n a m e -e p ith e t fo rm u la e has had to
be m uch m odified, and the claim that 'n o n o u n -e p ith e t fo rm u la w h ich
certainly form s pari o f a trad itio n al sy ste m o f n o u n -e p ith e t fo rm u la e can
contain an epithet w hose m ean in g can b e p a rtic u la rise d ' ( 1 9 7 1 [19 2 8 ]· 13 0 ) has
been countered in m an y stu d ies o f the d e ftn e ss w it), w h ich H o m e r seem s to
choose betw een such epithets in p ractice (see e .g . A u stin ( 19 7 5 ) . 1 - 8 0 ; V iv a n tc
(19 8 0 ): T sa g a ra k is (19 8 2 ); S a c k s (19 8 7 ) ; an d c f. H ainsw orth (19 G 8 ), 9 - 1 1 )
N ag y (19 7 9 ). 3: »ce also 7 8 - 9 an d passim . C o m p a re L u tacz (19 8 4 ) , 17 - 2 0 .
 20 Prologue
T h is point is w orth com parin g with the h igh ly nm bitious
theory o f H o m eric poetics advanced first by C . H W hitm an "1
and later extended b y ΛΙ. I's. N a g le r.4' W hitm an approaches
the problem o f u n ity from both ends: he argues first that
certain com plex im ages and narratives are ‘ form ulae acted
out , that is m anifestations on the largest scale o f ideas that
are already im plicit in the sm aller units o f the poet’s repertoire,
and then m oves to the largest level w ith the principle that a
single connection o f ideas or im ages can be articulated in
d ifferen t gu ises to create a single poetic m eaning. In the
Iliad, for exam ple, he show s that fire is associated with w ar
and w arrio r fu ry in con texts as diverse as single w ord-
m eanings, form ulae, sim iles, extended descriptions o f w arriors,
and the im agery used o f the god A rc s.44 N agler, m oving
fu rth er from the groun d , holds that a set o f disparate
im ages, form ulae, and m eanings can arise from a single
em bedded traditional idea, a ‘preverbal Gestalt', w hich is
p rio r to each o f the m any m anifestations (‘allom orphs’)
u n d er w hich it appears on the surface o f the poet's words.
T h e core o f the argum en t is that m eaning is generated
through, and not in spite o f, the poet’s w illingness to m ould
his lines and his narratives according to traditional patterns
and structural tem plates.45 S u ch approaches offer one route to
un ities behind the m u ltip licity o f H om eric ideas and im ages,
but b y defin ition the unities are rem ote and inaccessible. In
p articu lar, N a g le r’s ‘preverb al Gestalt' is prior both to any
form o f w o rd s and to the sen se it exp resses, so that it becom es
im p ossib le to pin d o w n .46 W hat rem ains fruitful (in m y view
41 (195S).
4> (iQt>7). ( 197-0
■" ( io s S), 102- 37, csp. t » 9·
** Ib id . esp . 12 8 - 5 3 .
■*’ In s u m m a ry , N ap ie r ( 19 7 4 : iqq ) stresses ‘ the fact that so m uch o f the oral
p o e t's m e an in g is d e e p ly em b e d d e d in the g en erativ e im pu lses that u n derlie
h is h a b its o f p o etic sp eakin p . so that poetic m caninps, fo r exam p le, often
p ro v id e the m ost adeq u ate d efin itio n s o f the "d e e p stru ctu res” o f h is poetic
lanpuape*.
** S e e e.fi. N a p ie r ( 10 7 4 : 3 3 ) on ‘ the d im en sion al netw ork o f potentialities
o f so u n d , sen se and even rh y th m ’ . O n the p otential for vapueness and w h im sy
o f N a p ie r's and W h itm a n 's ap p ro ach es sec S ilk < 19 74 ), 6 3 - 7 0 ; K a h a n e (19 9 4 ),
1 3 —14 . O f co u rse, the fact that an in te rp retative stratepy in vo lv e s this danper
d oes not m ean if>sn fa c ta that it is in valid .
 Homeric Words and Homeric Ideas 2I

at lenst) is the m ore lim ited point that idens, w ords, and
narratives are generated together and should not be separated
out from each other: in N a g y ’s w o rd s again, 'fo rm and content
conceptually o v e rla p '.47
L et me illustrate this w ith a glan ce at two w ell-know n
problem s. W hen the T ro ja n s attack the A c h ac an s’ m akeshift
stockade H om er sounds as if lie is d escrib in g som eth in g m ore
like a siege at an elaborate city w all, m ade o f stone and
equipped w ith turrets, b astions, and the like (see e.g. x il. 52—
9, 258 -6 0 , w ith vit. 3 3 6 —4 3 , 4 3 5 —4 1) ; and the latest com m enta­
tor explains this with the gu ess that the poet does not know any
suitable form ulae for d escrib in g a sim p le stockad e.48 M y
answ ering guess m ight be that the elevated ren d erin g is part
o f the elevated depiction o f the w orld w hich is the proper
subject o f poetry in H o m e r’s tradition , so that if he manted to
describe it as a rickety stockade he w ould no lon ger be H om er.
At the sam e tim e, the fact that he b egin s the n arrative w ith a
sim ple construction, but seem s gra d u a lly to increase its scale
and grandeur as the sto ry-lin e pro gresses, is im portant as an
exam ple o f the w ay H om eric ideas take sh ap e in w o rd s.* ' A g a in ,
when A ch illes defies the E m b assy his com plaint falls into a
series o f unansw ered questions (ix. 3 3 4 —43), and one scholar
explains this on the gro u n d s that the epic language is incapable
o f exp ressin g an ti-heroic id eas.50 Instead , w e m ight say that it
is in the nature o f doiSij that the poet can go as far as A ch illes
goes, but no further, in p ro d u cin g a speech that rejects the
*’ (19 9 3 6 ). 2 7 .
" S e c I lain sw n rth ut x il. 54 —7: ‘ T h in [sc. d sto ck ad ed earth w o rk ] is the sort
o f stru cture th e c ircu m stan ce s w o u ld d e m an d and p e rm it, yet the poet seem s
to d escrib e a m ore su b stan tial cd iticc, beim» con strain ed p e rh a p s b y the
trad itional d iction fo r an assau lt on n c it y '. M ain sw orth ad v an ces a sim ilar
argum ent to e xp lain the ap p are n t o b sc u ritie s o f the p assag e in w h ich O d ysse u s
b u ild s a raft fo r h im s e lf (v. 2 4 3 - f u ) : ‘ H o m e r . . . lias om itted variou s p arts and
operation s. 'I he reason fo r h is d o in g so is p o ssib ly the fact that, h avin g no
trad itional fo rm u lae for the co n stru ctio n o f a raft, he b o rro w s fro m a
d escrip tio n o f sh ip b u ild in g su ch as w o u ld be re q u ire d fo r the sto ry o f the
A r g o ’ (note ad loc.).
41 F o r the p rin c ip le , co m p a re the elab o rate an d e v e n p alace-lik e p ro p o r­
tions w h ich A c h ille s ' e n cam p m e n t takes on d u rin g the v is it o f P riam
( X X I V . 4 4 3 -5 6 ).
1 A . P a rry ( 19 5 6 ) . F o r a c ritiq u e o f the arg u m e n t, and e sp e c ia lly the
im p lied d efin itio n o f ‘ lan g u ag e ’ , sec R e e v e ( 19 7 3 ) ; also M a rtin (19 8 9 ), 1 4 6 - 6 1 .
22 Prologue
ethical canons o f the heroic w orld. W hen his defiance o f the
system is circum scrib ed as it is, the cause lies in the substance
o f H om eric ideas as m uch as in the m echanics o f how he can
clothe them in w ords. T ra d itio n and originality arc ind istin ­
guishable: the poet's identity is m oulded by his inheritance, but
there is no tension in the union.

Poetic language and poetic ideas

T h e w ord ‘ p o etry’ continues to give trouble. W hen we say
that this language is poetic, that can easily suggest that it is
lyrical (in the m odern sense) or allusive or otherw ise less
straigh tfo rw ard an instrum ent o f com m unication than was
(for exam ple) the idiom o f everyd ay speech in the Aegean
area in the eighth cen tu ry b c . T o generalize about the m odern
E n glish tradition, today the defining character o f poetry tends
to bc taken to bc one or both o f two things, m etrical or verbal
m usic and the w ay language is w ielded to express ideas. T h e
form er cannot be our concern here, since the m usic o f H o ­
m eric poetry is lost51 and w e cannot usefully guess at its
em otional effect on its audience, the C re e k equivalent o f the
feeling that m ade the b ristles stand up on H ousm an’s chin
w hile sh av in g .” In stead , our concern is with im ages, m ean­
ings, ideas; and under this aspect today’s poetry is defined as
such by its departure from everyday· idiom , by the fact that it
pushes w ords beyond the lim its o f what they do in normal
com m unication. ‘ E v e ry d a y ’ and ‘n orm al’ are loose words here,
but there is no avoid in g them . W hen the poet goes beyond the
ordinary· patterns o f language he is supposed to create som e­
thing new and ind ivid u al, som ething in fact which his
language w as not designed to express:

51 F o r e x a m p le , K ir k ’ s e ssay ( 19 8 5 : · 7~ 37) o n »hu« lie calls the interplay

b etw een d ictio n and m eanitiR ’ ( 1 7 ) cannot be presented as m ore than a
d e scrip tio n o f the stru ctu re s o b servab le in the tcritten shapes o f H om eric
sen ten ces. __ ,
51 llo u sin m i ( 19 3 3 ) · H o u sm an m akes a h alf-e xp licit attack on T . S . b lio t s
in flu ence in h is ow n R cncration w hen lie den ies that there is ‘an y such iliinR as
poetical id eas’ an d pin s his sense o f the p o etic on som ethinR that is b y
d efin itio n in tan gib le and irre d u cib le to verb al m eaning.
 Homerie Words and Homeric Ideas 23
ns im a g in a t io n b o d ie s forth
T h e f o r m s o f th in g s u n k n o w n , the p o e t s p en
T u r n s th e m to s h a p e s , a n d le n d s to a i r y n o th in g
A local h a b ita tio n and n n a m e .

Call this vague or rom antic or self-in ven tin g, but it rem ains
with us w henever the word ’p o e try ’ is used. The h allm ark o f
creativity is the poet's distortion o f language. C o m p are T . S .
Eliot, w riting about his sense o f what his profession m eans:

Poets in o u r c ivilis a tio n , as it a p p e a r s at p r e s e n t , m u s t .b e d iffic u lt. O u r

civilization c o m p r e h e n d s g reat v a r i e t y and c o m p l e x i t y , and th is v a r i ­
ety and c o m p le x it y , p la y i n g u p o n a re fined s e n s i b il it y , m u s t p r o d u c e
varied and c o m p le x results. T h e p o e t m u s t b e c o m e m o r e a n d m o r e
c om p r e h e n s iv e , m o r e a llu s iv e , m o r e in d ire c t , in o r d e r to fo rc e , to
dislocate i f n e c essa ry , la n g u a g e into h is m ea n in g.''*

In our own generation even a poet as personally se lf-effacin g as

Seam us Heaney portrays h im self in the sam e w ay:

T h e crucial actio n [in m a k in g a p o e m ] is p r e - v e r b a l , to b e a b l e to

allow the first alertn e ss or c o m c - h it h c r , s e n s e d in a b l u r r e d o r
in com plete w a y , to dilate and a p p r o a c h as a th o u g h t o r a t h e m e o r a
phrase. [R o b e rt] F r o s t p ut it this w a y : ‘A p o e m b e g in s as a l u m p in
the throat, a h o m es ick n e ss , a lo v e s ic k n e ss . It find s the t h o u g h t a n d the
th o u g h t finds the w o r d s . ' 5'

The principle that the m eanings con veyed in poetic language

are subtle, m any-layered, and am biguous, in the sense m ade
famous by W illiam E m p so n ,51* is sim p ly a less lyrical w ay o f
expressing this same perception. T h e poet 'm akes his w ords
work harder and pays them extra': it is only by d istortin g and
m anipulating the norm s o f non-poctic language that he can ply
his art, and correspondingly it is only by referrin g back to those
norms that his readers or listeners can m akes sense o f his
utterances. Sin ce the poet rides on the back o f the language
o f everyday com m unication, we could not appreciate his
language without referrin g first to the low er register o f con­
tem porary prose or speech, and by the sam e token it w ould be
• 53
54 Shak espeare, A M idsum m er N ig h t's D ream V. I . 14- 17.
( i q j x ), 65. SJ
9* (19 8 0 ), 49.
(* 9 3 ° ), passim.
 24 Prologue
absurd to try to teach poets’ English to foreigners as an
independent language.57
But if Homer is poetry it is poetry of a different order. I f it is
an artificial dialect, a Kunstsprache , what does that mean?
Evidently it is moulded not by an individual creative intellect
but by a tightly organized tradition, and its purpose— osten­
sibly at least— is not to find words for the almost-inexpressible
btit to tell high tales in the appropriate high form.58 I f it is
effective it is so because it tells them fully and clearly within the
boundaries set by its proper expressive resources. It follows
that Homeric language cannot have depended on the everyday
language in the parasitic modern way. Certainly it must have
drawn its elements from unmarked speech of different places
and periods, but in itself it is complete and self-sufficient, and
it must have been more fully and decisively marked off from
everyday speech than is any kind of literary language current
today. The tradition of composition must have been trans­
mitted from teacher to apprentice bard, and a rigorous control
of the metre, formulae, and the rules of word-building must
have been necessary before anything like Homeric composition
could have been achieved.59 Consequently the extreme regu­
larity of the epic diction is proof in itself of the strength and
autonomy of the linguistic tradition which the author o f our
epics must have inherited from his teachers. Naturally the

57 It is possible that a similar relationship exists between ordinary classical

Greek and the artificially elevated language of Attic tragedy: as Aristophanes
says of Aeschylus, the language of the poet is α ύ θ α δ ό σ τ ο μ ο ς ( Frogs 837).
Perhaps the Greek of Homer sounded distant or elevated to 5th-cent.
people in something like the same way; but that aesthetic sense should not
be projected back to poet or even audience in the creative phase of the
Homeric tradition.
ss Cf. Martin (1989), 238: ‘[The Homeric poem] is an authoritative speech-
act, initiated by a request for information, which is then recounted at length.
The key word for this interpretation is the verb ewent, “ tell” \ On the framing
of cultural authority in the epic tradition see more generally Havelock (1963).
59 Vital here, but beyond the scope of this study, is the strength of the
poetic education that must have been passed from poet to pupil in something
like the manner of the choral schools. See N agy's thought-provoking treat­
ment of the cultural implications of the development of γ ρ α μ μ α τ ι κ ό ς education
in the face of the old choral tradition (1990c); also cf. Robb (1994), esp. 183—
2 13 ; and on the choral schools themselves see esp. Calame (1977), k 385—4 1 1 ,
and more generally Buxton (1994), 23.
 Homerie Words and Homeric Ideas 25
dialect must have changed with changes in the spoken lan­
guage, as otherwise it would have become unintelligible; but
that need not have deprived it of its independent life.60 Given
all this, it makes sense to proceed on the assumption that
within its metrical and aesthetic discipline it communicates
just as directly, just as literally, as any ordinary species of
language.
In fact this principle has always been familiar in studies of
the nuts and bolts of epic language. The scholar who faces a
hard word tries to infer its meaning on the strengtji of Homeric
instances alone, then turns to other early hexameter verse, and
only as a last resort does he look to other evidence in Greek or
cognate languages. The implication is that the poet’s word-
hoard is locked away from the rest of language, and when he
opens it his songs are distanced from all other utterances by the
loftiness of dialect and metre as well as by the social role and
heritage that gives him the authority of a teacher. Hence
Homeric words have Homeric meanings, and they belong in
a separate lexicon. If this is sound, it is only a short step to treat
άοίδή as if it created not only its own language but its own view
of the world. This principle applies most obviously to motifs
and story-patterns, but can also be extended to ideas of the
kind that our own culture might call religion. There is un­
doubtedly a two-way relationship between Homeric concep­
tions and early cultic practice, but external influences on the
epic tradition need not have deprived it of its cultural auton­
omy. As for the possible influence of images from the visual
arts, we can do no better than take the poet’s own word for the
relationship between sight and poetic evocation:
*Ε σττ€Τ€ ν υ ν μ ο ι , Μ ο ύ σ α ί , 9Ο λ ύ μ π ι α δ ώ μ α τ * έ χ ο υ σ α ι ,
ύ μ ζ ΐ ς γ ά ρ O c a t i a r e , π ά ρ ε σ τ έ τ€, ιστβ r e π ά ν τ α ,
τ ιμ € Ϊ ς δ έ κ λ έ ο ς ο ΐ ο ν ά κ ο υ ο μ € ν ο υ δ έ τ ι ιδ μ € ν ... (ΐΐ. 4·84~~7)

60 C f. Janko (19 9 2 ), 12: ‘N ot even the feeblest bards com posed m erely by
stringing form u lae together; poets always drew on th eir changing vernacular
as they recreated and adapted the old tales, and the m ore striking o r useful
phrases entered the tradition, ultim ately to becom e curious archaism s on the
lips o f sirfjgers hundreds o f years younger*. B ut if a given poet was tru ly m aster
of his craft, w ou ld these ‘curious archaism s’ have been any less m eaningful to
him and his peers than was the rest o f his linguistic repertoire?
26 Prologue
It is in this sense that H om er is blind:**1 he assim ilates und re­
creates tradition entirely within his hexam eters, and what
m ight be seen with the eyes bears only the dim m est relation
to what com es to birth in language. I f the tradition is strong
and supple enough to exert a controlling pow er over the
elem ents o f im agery which it deploys, then our own interpreta­
tion must proceed in the same w ay, w ithin the closed w orld o f
the hexam eters.

The integrated study of Homer

A n y argum ent that em phasizes the cultural unity o f άοιδή will
go against the grain o f m uch H om eric scholarship, w here the
learned stress the fact that different elem ents have been culled
from different sources in G reek and p re-G reek history’ to form
a patchw ork. Sto ck exam ples tend to com e from m atters of
m aterial culture. W e know it w ould be pointless to try to
d escribe (say) ‘the H om eric sh ield ’ when art and archaeology
show that the various nam es and descriptions o f H om eric
shields— άσττι'ί, σάκο?, figure-of-eigh t shield, tow er-shield, and
so on— correspond to different kinds o f shield used between
early M ycen aean tim es and the tim e o f com position/'* But this
point concerns the description in άοιδή o f things that exist in
the visib le w o rld , and it need not be extended to things that
belong in the realm o f the unseen and the im agined— religion,
m yth, psych o logy, everythin g that takes shape in word alone.
A lthou gh we cannot talk about ‘ the H om eric shield’ as a single
kind o f artefact, nevertheless w e can hope for a coherent
picture if we try to understand the ethics and psychology
that H om eric characters exem p lify when they defend them ­
selves with those shields. I f the poet is m aster o f his language,
or at the very least guided by the inheritance o f language, ideas,
and cultural authority that he calls his M use, then things that

M C f. A. A p . 1 7 2 - 3 .
« S e e e .g . F . H . S tu b b in g * in W ace and S tu b b in g * (19 6 2 ). 5 1 0 - 1 3 . ITie
an alo g y o f the sh ield is cited b y S o u rv in o u -In w o o d (19 9 5 : 1 2 - 1 4 ) ‘ n defence
o f h e r w illin g n e ss to analyse H o m eric d eath -m yth ology w ith the prior
assu m p tio n that it is an artificial omnlRam (n. 64 below·).
»> On the M use as a mythical embodiment of the poet's inheritance see
M urray (1 9 8 1 : too), n r g u in R that the Muse is responsible not only for
 Homerie Words and Homeric Ideas 27

belong in that inheritance alone will be fully in his pow er; so

that where those things arc concerned it mokes s e n s c ‘ ° f°
the belief that the poet or the tradition is speaking wi
authoritative v o ic e ." I f there is unity in the H o m eric con cep­
tion o f mental life or life after death or an ythin g else, the
controlling harm ony m ust lie in the independence and m tcgril y
of the tradition o f <1o«S>) itself. S o we com e fu circ c. 1 ic
•Homeric w orld -picture’ is coherent it is so because it is poetic,
not in spite o f that fact. .
I propose, then, that within the H om eric am bit linguistic
literary, narrative, m ythical, and religious elem ents are all
linked and do not belong in different categories o f en quiry.
T h is need not lead to chaos, and it can enrich even the m ost
straightforw ard attem pt to find m eaning in w ords. L e t me
illustrate this from an unusually clear exam ple, sim ilar in
kind to m any that w ill appear in the follow ing chapters.
Suppose 1 were trying to w rite about the H o m eric view of
fear about the future. I m ight begin w ith the fam ous w ords in
which N estor says that the battle by the ships m ay turn out in
disaster:
VÜI' γ ά ρ 5ij ττάιτe a a i v rrri f v p o v Γοταται α κ μ ή ς
rj μάλα \irypos όλίθρος ζ4χα ιοΓί ή( βιΰιναι. (Χ . Ι 73 “ 4)

because the phrase ‘on the razor’s edge’ has becom e proverbial
in G reek'1' and then in En glish t r a d i t i o n ,t h e sense o f these
‘ ir.spiratinn* in on intangible or m ystical sense but also for "the technical
aspects o! poetic creativity*. C f. also V ernan t (19 8 5 ), 10 9 —3 6 ; G e n tili (19 8 8 ),
eh. I. esp. p. 8.
M lr. particu lar, this m eans that o u r assessm ent o f the H o m eric afterlife (in
C h . 6) w ill ditTcr radically from that o f C . S o u rv in o u -ln w o o d in h er recent
study (1QO5: esp. ■ ;(>—94). S o u rv in u u -ln w o o d replaces the m isle ad in g trad i­
tional distinction betw een trad ition and in vention with the fo rm u lation that
the traditional poet innovates w ith in the 'interstices* that e xist w ith in ‘ the
param eters o f established b elie f*, and goes on to d istin gu ish tw o version s o f
the afterlife, one in w hich the dead arc as stron g and sub stan tial as the livin g
and one in w hich they arc ‘ w itless sh ad es', taking it that the first o f these
belongs in fossilized fragm ents inherited b y H o m er and the oth er co rresp o n d s
to the b eliefs o f H o m e r's ow n tim e. T h e opposition is not un lik e that w h ich I
w ill try to sketch betw een ‘ dead m an ns corp se’ and ‘ dead m an as w raith ’ , hut
with the*diflercncc that in this stu d y 1 w ill regard the interm ingling o f the two
conceptions as the key to the w hole schem e (see C h . 6, pp. 207—15 ).
65 S ee Sim o n . t2 P E G ; T h g n . 5 5 7.
[See p. 2SJ ot 11. 66]
28 Prologue
lines can seem d ecep tively sim p le. O nce the cliche is forgotten
it becom es harder to grasp. N esto r is im agining two p o ssib il­
ities, one an abstract noun, the other an infinitive verb,
balanced on a sharp pivot (ξυρού ακμή) and about to fall in
one or other direction. D eterm ined to interpret H om er out o f
H om er, how can w e shed further light on this? F irst, w e recall
the scales that Z eu s suspends over the battlefield to determ ine
the issue o f a finely balanced com bat: once when the two arm ies
stru ggle across the battlefield (v ill. 6 9 -74 ), once w hen the
d eath -b rin gin g κι/pes o f A chilles and H ector are w eighed
against each other ( x x i i . 2 0 9 - 1 3>.67 T h e latter is the m ore
fam ous exam ple:

καί rore hr) χρΰαιια -πατήρ eriταινί τάλαντα,

<i» 2' Ιτίθτι 2ι;ο κηρ( τηι-ηλ^γίος θανάτοιο,
Την μίν ΜχιλλήοΓ. την 2’ "Εκτορος ίτπτσ&άμαιο,
(λκΐ δί μίοαα λαβών pint 2’ "Εκτορος αϊσιμον ήμαρ,
ωιχΐτο 2’ eiV Άίόαο . . . (ΧΧΙΙ. 209—>3)

Z eu s arran ges, èn'rati'e, the scales, then one pan falls down and
m arks the destruction o f the loser. Som ething that stands
w o b b lin g on the ακμή o f a ξνρόs exactly corresponds to the
uncertain m ovem ent o f the pans o f a balance, and the m atch
betw een the two passages centres above all on the idea that
defeat or disaster is the falling o f one o f the two possib ilities.*'*
T h e thought and the verb arc identical when another character
looks forw ard to defeat in battle by saying that destruction will
‘ fall d o w n ’ for the A chacan s, ήμίν δ’ αιπύς ολίΟρος Ιττιρρίπηι (χιν.
99). T h is idea o f perfect balance, the uncertain state before the
fall, is b uilt up again under a different guise in an extraordinary
sim ile d urin g the T ro ja n assault on the Achaean stockade:

ίχ ο ν ώ ς r e τά λ α ν τα γ υ ν ή χ ιρ ν ή τ ις α λ η θ ή ς,
ή τ ί σ τα θ μ ό ν (χ ο ν α α κ α ι ιΐρ ιο ν ά μ φ ις ά ν (λ κ (ι
Ια ά ζ ο υ α ', Γι·α τταισίν atiKÓa μ ισ θ ό ν ά ρ η τ α τ
ώ ί μ ί ν τ ώ ν ίττι Ισα μ ά χ η τ ίτ α τ ο π τ ό λ ιμ ό ς Τ (. (Χ ΙΙ. 433“ 6) *

** I thin k the phrase has entered the lan guage d irectly fro m C h a p m a n 's
tran slation: see O E D s.v . 'ra 2 o r'.
A’ C o m p a re also x v i. 6 58 , x ix . 2 2 3 .
M C f. B innchi ( 19 5 3 ) , 7 7 - 8 5 ; D ietrich (19 6 5 ), 2 9 4 -6 .
 Homerie Words and Homeric Ideas 29
T h e deadlock betw een tw o sides is 'stretch ed o u t’ like w hen a
sp in n in g-w o m an exten d s a pair o f scales to w eigh her w o o l.6
VVc can dig still d eeper into the b o w els o f the language. F ro m
an external point o f v iew all these passages d escrib e w h at in
E n glish w ould be called chance o r fate or fo rtu n e, b ut fro m the
psychological point o f v iew they can be seen as extern alized
depictions o f fear and un certain ty. T u r n in g to H o m eric verb s
for fear, it is rem arkab le that δέδοικα seem s (if no m ore) to be
related etym o lo gically to the root o f δύο, ‘ tw o ’ .7" T h e e x p la n a ­
tion is captured in so m eth in g O d ysseu s says w hen he w arn s
A chilles o f the peril to the G re e k sh ip s fro m the T ro ja n
onslaught:
άλλα λ ίη ν μ ί γ α ττήμα, δ ιο τ ρ ΐφ α , (laopouiVTts
ϋ α ’δ ι μ ΐ ν i v δ ο ιή ι S i σ α α ισ ΐμ ίν ή ά π ο λ ίο Ο α ι
irfjας ίνσαίλμους, f l μη ον γ ί Bvotai αλία)»-. (ΐ Χ. 2 2 9 —3 0

O dysseus says the w a rrio rs fear, Sri'Sifiev, a fu tu re d isaster

because the safety o r d estru ctio n o f the sh ip s is in δ ο ι η , a
state o f ‘d o u b lcn ess’ : the figura etymologica b ears out the verb a l
m e a n in g .'1 T w in p o ssib ilities lie balan ced and one or the other
w ill lead to d isaster if it is realized : it is hard to e xp ress the
literal m eaning o f the G re e k excep t b y p ic tu rin g them as ly in g
in the pans o f a balance o r poised on the ά κ μ η o f a central pivot.
In this collection w e have g ra sp e d — or can p la u sib ly claim
we have grasp ed — a sin g le n exu s o f ideas m an ifested on four
different levels o f exp ressio n . T h e q u estio n o f p rio rity could
easily he posed betw een them . T h e ’ razo r’s ed g e ’ m igh t be a
m iniature version o f the scales o f Z e u s, or altern ativ ely the
latter m ight be a theological am p lification o f the fo rm er; the
spin nin g-w om an s scales m ight be a stylish varian t on cith er o f
them ; again, the three cou ld be gro u p ed to geth er as differen t
w ays o f w orkin g out the im p lication s o f the idea captured in the
M Similarly Ze u s stretches out the battle equally on both sides, κατά foa
μάχην ir m v a o t Kpo.iu.i- (xi. 336). Co m p are also the kindred simile o f the
carpenter’s rule at xv. 4 1 0 - 1 3 .
7" S e c B e n v cn istc ( 1 9 7 1 ) , 2 5 3 —4.
N o co n se n su s e x is ts o n th e im p lic a tio n s o f lin e s w h e re tw o co gn ate w o rd s
seem to ch im e w ith each o th e r in a s o -c a lle d fig u ra etym ologica. S h o u ld the
om ericTfigura etym ologica b e c lasse d as (a) a re c o g n itio n o f linked m eunings
betw een cogn ate w o rd s o r (6) s o m e th in g akin to a p u n ? S e e m ost re cen tly
R e ic h le r-B ê g u e lin ( 1 9 9 1 ) . an d c f. lla in s w o r t h (1968), 36 -8 .
30 Prologue
w ord θοιτ/, and hence be referred back to an ancient (and
In d o -E u ro p ean , not m erely G reek) identity between fear and
‘doublcncss*. But nothing in the evidence allow s us to arrange
these as if one caused or inspired the other, and to give
p rio rity to any one o f them w ould be to ignore the internal
com plexity o f the tradition. H ow , then, docs the com parison
advance our reading o f H om er? I f w e are content to accept
that our pieces o f evidence are all closely related, and leave it
at that, then w e can safely use each to enhance our under­
stan d in g o f the oth ers’ m eaning, if only because we now have
a better sense o f the m ental picture that each sequence of
w ords is m eant to evoke. T o put it another w ay, the links
betw een them suggest that a certain set o f abstract ideas is
connected in the H om eric w orld in a w ay that m ight not make
im m ediate sense in our ow n. So m e cultural reality occupies
the com m on groun d between our passages, som e underlying
conception o f w hat fear or uncertainty or doubleness is. T h is
n ever takes shape d irectly on the surface o f what is said, but
its presence is felt in cacb o f our passages, and we can gain
som e inkling o f it by com parin g them . W ithin the controlled
d isciplin e o f aoiSi) the things that our own culture would class
as a m yth, a m etaphor, a sim ile, and a sem antic field are
m utually dependent w ays o f givin g shape— H om eric, poetic,
im agined shape— to a single idea o f w hat happens in the
m om ent w hen a conflict is even ly m atched and its outcome
is about to be decided. T o use the term s w hich w ill appear
throughout our discussion: the un d erlyin g idea is a concept of
w hat un certain ty about the future m eans; and in different
passages this concept is articulated or brought to birth in
differen t w ays. W hat is articulated in each case is an image: we
grasp the im age by follow ing H o m er’s w ords, and we try to
d elve closer to the level o f the concept by studying the
observab le links betw een disparate but kindred im ages. B y
id en tifyin g those links we com e closer to the kind o f sense that
H o m er’s audience m ust have apprehended when they listened
to each m yth or figure or w ord w ithin the fram ew ork o f άοιδή,
and so we aim ourselves to grasp som ething o f the underlying
un ity. In this w ay, to return to the w ord that has been
troubling m e, the passages w ork together as witness to a
single elem ent o f the H om eric tvorld-picture.
 Homerie Words and Homeric Ideas 3«

Semantic reconstruction
T h e nub o f w hat w e have proposed is trust in the b e lie f that
epic poetry is an effective m eans o f com m unication betw een
poet and audience; and since o u r main concern w ill be to take
words seriou sly as an index to ideas, to im plem ent this trust we
must begin our study o f each departm ent o f H o m eric ideas by
looking w ith alm ost m yopic closeness at the w o rd s that b elong
in it. H ere I need to state a few points o f p o licy that cannot be
justified a priori. Faced w ith each question o f interpretation we
will prefer to treat the w ord in question as m ean in gfu l rather
than the reverse. T h e fact that a w ord serves a m echanical
function, for exam ple as an epithet in part o f a system o f nam e*
epithet form ulae, w ill not stop us from tryin g to sketch its
semantic range by com parin g its variou s co n texts.72 M o re
contentious will be our attitude to ill-attested w o rd s that d efy
translation. W hen we look at a w o rd w hose attestations cannot
be fitted into a single sem antic range that m akes good sen se in
English, we w ill be un w illin g to id en tify it as w h at has been
called an ‘ icon ym ’ , that is a w o rd w hose sound o r tradition al
associations make it appropriate to certain con texts b u t w hich
fails to have any denotative m eaning at a ll.72 S im ila rly , vve w ill

7* H ere there w ill be need o f som e ju g g lin g , b ecau se w e m u st allo w fo r the

possibility that the sem antic edges o f a w ord m ay be b lu rre d w h en it is
assim ilated into such a system . T h is p oin t w ill p ro ve im p o rtan t in o u r s tu d y o f
Pv/-et. fjrop, ar.d the related p sych o lo gical e n tities: h e re H o m e ric
practice suggests that each o f d iese is identified w ith a d istin ct o rg an in the
chest, w hile in the ren dering o f m ental life th eir nam es are in te rch an g e d so
freely that they are best un derstood as a system o f virtu al sy n o n y m s w hose
nam es denote a single pro cess o f p sych ological ebb and How (C h . 4 . p p . 6 3 -4 ).
71 Ä‘ lk (19 8 3 ), 3 1 2 : ‘A n iconym has no c ircle, no centre. It has o n ly a few
faint scattered .connotations: a set o f ran dom asso ciatio n s, like g h o stly rin gs,
p e 'h ao s ran dom ly o verlap p in g , hut larg e ly u n rclatab le, and all in all leadin g
now here. T h e random associations w ill co n sist p artly o f e a rlie r lite ra ry
contexts (from w hich the kn ow ledge o f the w o rd p re su m ab ly com es),
partly, p erh ap s, o f aural asso ciations o f the kin d that w e tend to read ns
’ re -e ty m o lo g y ". T h e re is a d iffu se referen ce, th en , too d iffu se to b e g in to
d e riie a referent from it (for a co rre sp o n d in g ap p ro ach to— o r escape fro m —
interpretation see c.g . C h an train c. s .v . άμαιράκ«το?). I f H o m e ric p o e try w as
produced* for un audience and w ith ou t d raw in g on p re -e x istin g fixed texts
w hich w ere no longer fu lly u n d ersto o d , it is d ifficu lt to see h ow an y H o m e ric
word could have operated as an ic o n ym . except in the case o f e p ith ets and a
32 Prologue
be slow to accuse the poet o f having m isun derstood or m is­
interpreted an item in his lin guistic inh eritan ce.74 It makes
good sense to reserve such explan ations for the last resort when
all other avenues o f in terpretation fail. G iv e n the g u lf o f time
and cultural change betw een H om er and us, it w ill alw ays be
po ssib le that a H o m eric w ord has a m eaning w hose coherence
is hidden by our ign orance or presuppositions.
In fact o u r m ain concern w ill be w ith w o rd s that pose ju st
that p rob lem . I f the lexical sub tleties o f an H om eric w ord can
he cu ltu rally sign ifican t in the sam e w ay as a form ula or line or
sto ry pattern , it follow s that we w ill often want to plot the
range o f m eanin g o f a w o rd and use that m ap as a pointer to a
sign ifican t un ity in traditional ideas. But this w ill not be easy.
L e xica l recon struction is terrib ly difficult because our own
ed ucation — and p erh ap s even the w ay that En glish really
operates am on g those w ho use d ictionaries— encourages us to
cope w ith a w ord b y so rtin g it out into sm aller categories o f
m eaning. Λ L id d c ll-a n d -S c o tt definition, for exam ple, follows
a standard pattern based on cuttin g up the w ord into discrete
section s, labelled w ith n u m b ers, but with the relationship
betw een them u su ally left unspecified. T o each o f these
sections other, sm a ller sections arc jo in ed , gen erally hv w ords
like ‘ fig .’ , ‘ tra n sf.’ , o r ‘ rnctaph.’ , perhaps even ‘hen ce'. T h e
w hole system m ight be a gro u p o f islands, separated from each
oth er b y deep w ater, and in clu d in g som e sm aller offshore rocks
jo in ed to the m ainland b y the bridges represented by ‘transf.'
and sim ilar. T h e p ro b lem , o f course, is that nothing in the w ay
G re e k s actu ally used the w ord can ju stify such a com plicated
m ap. W hat has happened is that the m odern scholar, guided by
the com m on sense o f his ow n age, has cut the m eaning up and
few o th e r w o rd * w h ich m igh t (ex h yp o th eti) have se rv ed a p u re ly ornam ental
fu n ctio n .
74 A s in th e w ork o f M a n u L e u m a n n ( i 9S°)- In m an y in stan ces, in clu d in g
the w e ll-k n o w n κ ν ρ β ιχ ο τ an d τταρήορος, L e u m a n n s ap p ro ach is b ased on w hat
w o u ld n o w a d a y s be seen as an e xtre m e A n a ly st v ie w o f H o m e ric com position ,
w h e re a later co m p o se r is su p p o se d to h ave m isu n d ersto o d a w o rd in 3n old
p assag e and used it in e rro r w hen he p u t togeth er h is o w n new line. I f the
e p ics are p rim a rily created b y o ral co m p o sitio n an d p e rfo rm an ce , and
e sp e c ia lly if each is e sse n tially a sin gle w ork , it is h ard to see how such
m isu n d e rstan d in g s can has'e com e about o r heen accepted in to a d evelopin g
trad itio n . C f. R u ijg h ( 1 9 5 7 : 10 3 ) , p a ro d y in g L e u m a n n ’ s strate g y.
 Homeric Words and Homeric Ideas 33
rearranged its parts so that they answ er to associations which
make sense in his ow n cultural w orld. In doing so, as likely as
not, he has obscured the v e ry connections and unities that gave
the word its G re e k m eaning in the first place. I f we turn aw ay
from the lexical habit and choose instead to see the m eaning o f
the w ord as a single field, w ithout artificial boundaries, then we
will be m uch closer to un derstanding w hatever cultural unities
are em bodied in it. W e w ill also be better equipped to cope
with the label ‘ m etaphorical’ , because we w ill be ready to give a
better-inform ed guess at w h at has happened in^places where
the word has gen uin ely been pushed beyond its norm al m ean­
in g.”
H ere, then, is the challenge. H o m eric G reek is full o f w ords
that each com bine two things that seem to be unrelated in
English, and our task is to explain their internal unities. L et me
begin with an especially strange exam ple. D escrib in g the
various things in P o lyp h em u s’ cave, O d ysseus specifies how
lambs and kids o f different ages w ere segregated:
ίια κ ίκ ρ ιμ ίν α ,ι b i ίχ α α τ α ι
( μ χ α τ ο , χ ω ρ ίς μ ί ν ττρό γο νοι, χ ω ρ ίς S i μ ίτ α α σ α ι,
χ ω ρ ίς δ ' αυΟ* ëjiatii. ( ι χ . 2 2 0 —ζ )

T ranslated with brutal literalism , O d ysseus nam es first older

animals, then m id-aged, and then drops o f dew, because that is
exactly w hat ΐρσ-η/Πριτη m eans.7' It is unhelpful to say that the
usage is m etaphorical,7H because the passage is one o f plain
I h ave d iscu ssed this p rin cip le at greater len gth elsew h ere ( 1 9 9 Sa )·
7* S e e B en ven iste (19 7 3 ) , 1 9 - 2 2 ; \V. M . C la rk e (19 7 4 ) , 6 9 - 7 3 . B en ven iste’ *
full argum ent is m ore am b itio u s and in clu d es the claim that άρ<τη», 'm a le ’ , is
from the ze ro -g rad e o f the sam e root. C h a n tra in e , s .v ., d en ies this. C lark e
speculates that !ρ ο τ /·ρ ω ; is literally id en tified w ith dew , sem en , and kindred
substances (note e sp . H es. Theog. 9 10 ) . N o te also the tradition that dew is the
sam e as άμβροοϊη. the food o f the go d s, w h ich is o n ly recorded after H om er
(see e.g. [ lie s .] S h ie ld 39 s).
77 T h e altern ation betw een the tw o fo rm s is H o m eric (see x iv . 34 S , x x iv .
4 19 . 7 5 7 ) S o m e d en y that <V/>cnj o r ipm j fo r dew is the sam e w ord as ίρ<τη tor a
young anim al (see L e u m an n ( 19 5 0 ) , 2 5 S n. 1 1 ; B eekes (19 6 9 1, 64, 76—S), but
w ithout co m p e llin g evid en ce. C e rta in ly the G re e k s in the 5th cent, seem to
have thought th ey w ere the sam e, as A e sch y lu s uses ipocos 1 4 1 ) fo r a
you ng an im al, and S o p h o c le s has ώακαΛοϋχο* (< ^ α « ά ί. ’ rain d rop ’ , fr. 7 2 5 N )
for a m other an im al (B e n v e n iste ( 1 9 7 3 ) , 1 9 —22).
71 T h u s L S J s-v.
34 Prologue
functional description where a creative m etaphor would hardly
belong. A fter a longer look it can be argued that the word bears
witness to an undent conceptual link between the vitality of
young newborn anim als and that o f life-g ivin g dew , H om er’s
τίθαΧυΐα Ιΐραη (xiii. 245) or θή\υς ctpot) (v. 467). D ew brings
about the grow th and ripening o f corn (see x x m . 598, with p. 98
below) and it seem s to be associated w ith sexual fertility when
it appears am ong the suddenly blossom ing plants as Z eus and
H era m ake love (xiv. 3 5 1 ) ; sim ilarly it is identified w ith the
healthy life o f hum ans when the dead H ector is supcrnaturally
protected from decay so that he looks Itpar/tis (xx iv . 4 19 , 757),
retaining the flourishing appearance o f a living m an .'’ It is not
necessary to say that H om er believes dew and lam bs are one
and the sam e thing, w hich is plainly absurd; m ore m odestly,
the evidence is that in G reek practice the w ord is not cut up
into parts as w e have to do when translating it into English, and
that the link betw een dew and lam bs is m ore intim ate and more
literal than it seem s from our m odern perspective. I f we treat
the w o rd as a unity it m ay w ell help us to understand H om er’s
conception o f sexual generation— or, indeed, o f m oist things
that fall from the sky.
T h a t last exam ple is perhaps m arginal, since it relies on a
single passage; b ut the problem is no less stark with fam iliar
w ords and form ulae. F o r exam ple the word όζοι is attested in
two contexts, first nam ing the branch or shoot o f a tree and
secondly an epithet for w arriors in lines like
Αάμιτον re, ΚΑυτίον 0', Ίκκτάονά τ ' δζον Άρηος. (ill. 147 = XX- 2j8)
N o passage exists to explain how the two applications relate to
each other: so how docs the reader cope with the problem that
H o m er appears to think w arriors relate to A res in the same
sense as branches relate to a tree? Both C hantrainc and Frisk
cut the w ord into two separate entries, one m eaning branch
and the other ’ fo llo w er’ , and each backed up w ith a separate
guess at an In d o -E u ro p ean etym ology. T his em pty guess does
no m ore than encourage the reader to avoid the labour o f
w orkin g out how one m eaning could be applicable to the two
kinds o f referent. L id d e ll and S cott are m ore cautious and 7

7* Cf. x x m . 184-8.
 Homeric Words and Homeric Ideas 35

admit that this is one w ord; but they cut it up into tw o su b ­

definitions, explaining όζος Άρηος as ‘metaph.,^ offshoot, sc,ol‘ *
T h is brings us little closer to the G reek realities, because the
English m etaphor in ‘offshoot' or ‘scion ' m akes sense because
o f a sym bolic m eaning attached to gro w in g plants in an En glish
system o f ideas which (in all likelihood) has little or nothing in
common with the G reek. M o re gen erally, the m echanism o f
metaphorical transference im plied by the en try is peculiar to
literate English tradition— indeed, to a p articularly m annered
and rarefied version o f that tradition. I here is every reason to
think that the patterns o f G reek w o rd -u sage w ere differen t.
Consequently, the only way to give a useful account o f οζοs
would be to study the full range o f m eanings that H o m er
attaches to the grow th or vigour o f plants and that o f hum an
beings in general and w arriors in particular, tryin g to establish
how the life o f the one is assim ilated to the other: in w hich case
useful evidence might be found in the pattern o f thought that
enables O dysseus to com pare N ausicaa to a palm -tree (vi. 160­
9), or in the Iliadic sim iles associating the deaths o f w arriors
with the deaths o f trees,KUor sim p ly in the range o f m eanin g o f
words like Οάλλω/θαλόθω, applied to the flourishing o f both
trees and young men, or άνθος, w hich refers both to gro w in g
vegetation and grow ing facial h air.1,1 W hether or not those
particular parallels would be enough to account for όζοί Άρι/ος
in Hom eric term s, the exercise w ould exem p lify the general
principle that the task o f understanding individual w ords
belongs in the larger labour o f using the full range o f evidence
to understand the w orld picture o f their users.
When we try to make sense o f the H om eric vo cab u lary for
mental life and life after death it w ill be easy to distort the
words by breaking up the unity o f each one accord ing to the
range o f English words that we have to use to translate it. T h is
will be our problem in C hapter 4 w hen w e grapple w ith the
word θυμός, w hich in different contexts can be taken to refer to
air in the lungs and to the locus o f m ental activity; and
subsequently when we turn to φυχή, w h ich can u su ally be
twisted into ‘so u l’ but occasionally needs to be glossed ‘ life ’ ,
*“ S e c t . 8 . IV . 4 8 2 -7 , V . 560, X I I I . 1 7 8 - 8 1 , X V II. 5 3 - 6 0 , x v iu . 5 5 - 9 , 4 3 7 - 4 0 ,
and cf. x iv. 17 5 . C f. N a g y (19 7 9 ). 18ΠΓ.
*ι S e e M . J . C la rk e (19 9 5 6 ), n. 49.
36 Prologue
‘b re ath ’, or som e other w ord no less vagu ely related to the first.
F o r every G reek w ord o f this sort it is easy to separate out the
variou s E n glish equivalents and take one o f them as the basic
sense o f the w o rd and the others as extensions in one or other
d irectio n — m etaphor, m etonym y, or som e other kind o f fig­
u rative use. B u t i f w e do that we violate the real m eaning,
because the w ord has been distorted in two w ays. F irst, it has
been passed through the filter o f m odern expectations about
how language w o rks: specifically, expectations about the w ays
in w h ich m eanin gs arc first m apped b y individual w ords and
then exten d ed in creative directions b y poets. Secon d ly, it has
been broken up along lines o f d ivision laid dow n b y m odern
w o rd s, w o rd s w hose m eanings w ere fram ed in term s o f a
cu ltu re u tterly differen t from H o m er’s. T o interpret the
verb al data w e have to arrange them in a pattern, and the
pattern w ill be w orse than useless if it is determ ined u n criti­
cally b y our ow n u p b rin gin g. In short, the problem that faces
us con cern s not on ly the H om eric w o rd s but also the late
tw entieth cen tu ry ideas that organize our linguistic sensibilities
w hen w e read them . T h is calls for a pause.
 2

T h e C ategories o f B o d y and
So u l

Asking the right questions y

A person is a mass o f livin g flesh w ho also thinks and feels and
calls him self ‘ I ’ . T h a t is the only universal fact about the
structure o f hum an identity', and any further elaborations are
products o f particular cultures and traditions: and because the
ideas in question are intangible, and their expression often
dilTicult and oblique, when w e face an alien w o rld -p ictu re there
is a tem ptation to pass its ideas through the filter provided by
our own. I begin with a cautionary tale. H ere is Frazer in the
Golden Dough— a book that is still in print— w ith an anecdote to
illustrate prim itive beliefs about b o d y and soul:
Addressing some Australian blacks, a European missionary said, ‘ I
am not one, as you think, but tw o.’ U pon this they laughed. ‘ You may
laugh as much as you like’ , continued the m issionary, ‘ I tell you that I
am two in one; this great body that you see is one; within that there is
another little one which is not visible. T h e great body dies, and is
buried, but the little body flies away when the great one dies.’ T o this
some of the blacks replied, ‘Y es, yes. We also are two, we also have a
little body within the breast.’ On being asked where the little body
went after death, some said it went behind the bush, others said it
went into the sea, and some said they did not know .1

I have no idea w hat the A u stralian s really believed or w hat they

thought the m issionary m eant, but their answ ers— and above
all their laughter— suggest that his talk o f b ody and soul did not
make sense to them . T h e m ost strikin g thing is that Frazer cites
the story as evidence for the A b o rig in es’ own beliefs, when in
fact all it illustrates is the m issio n aries’ failure to com m unicate
with th'em. T h e sto ry show s how easy it is to conjure up
I ( 19 2 2 ) , 17 9 .
38 Prologue
evidence o f non-existent beliefs by asking questions that do not
make sense except in the very w ords that the questioner uses.
T h e danger is that o f adopting what has been called an
'introspcctionist psych o logy’— reliance, that is, on the beliefs
and categories and intellectual pigeon-holes that our peculiar
m odern experience has im posed on us.
T h e re is a useful com m ent on this in one o f the essays of
L u cicn L e v y -B ru h l, who produced increasingly subtle refine­
m ents o f his ow n theory o f ‘ prim itive* so u l-b e lie f1*3 before he
took the further step4* o f accepting the insidious danger of
fram in g o n e’s questions in term s o f m odern W estern schemes:
A l m o s t all the o b s e r v e r s a s s u m e , w it h o u t re flecting on the question
a n d as i f n o o t h e r h y p o t h e s e s w e r e p o s s ib le , that the p rim it iv e s have
b e lie fs c o m p a r a b le to th e ir o w n , and that in th e ir e yes the hum an
in d i v id u a l is m a d e u p o f a b o d y a n d a sou l: that is to say, tw o entities
q u it e d if fe r e n t f r o m each o t h e r w h ic h h a p p e n to b e jo in e d together in
th is life.3

W hat, then, happens when the investigator confronts the so-

called prim itives w ith such talk? ‘T o ask them about it would
be useless at least . . . T h e ir answ ers would clearly show only
one thing: that the m eaning o f the question had escaped them .’'’

1 E v a n s-P ritc h a rd (19 6 5 ), eh. 1 , and see also L ic n h a td t (19 6 6 ), 15 0 -2 .

1 T h e m ost im p o rtan t is ill L e v y - B r u h l ( 19 18 ) , a w ork w hose influence on
classical sch o lars has been in sid iou s e ve r sin ce (see C h . 4 nn. 4, 5. 3 1) .
T h ro u g h o u t the first h a lf o f the 20th cen t., o ver-sim p lified doctrines o f the
p rim itive m en tality con tinu ed to w ork their in sidious w ay into En glish studies
o f e a rly G re e k lan guage and lore, ju s t as H egelian m odels o f Ceislesgeiehichle
lie in the b ack gro u n d o f S n e ll's an alyses o f the H o m eric n e w o f m an. For a
tren chant e a rly critiq u e o f the in tellectual atm osph ere w hich this created, see
B a rfie ld 's d isc u ssio n o f 'th at lu ckless d u stb in o f pseudo-scien tific fantasies,
the m ind o f p rim itiv e m an ' ( 19 2 8 : 56).
4 L e v y - B r u h l (19 6 3 [ 19* 7] ) ·
3 Ib id . 12 8 .
* L e v y - B r u h l (19 6 3 ( 19 2 7 ] ) . 1 . T h e in sigh ts quoted here supersede L e v y -
B ru til's e a rlie r treatm ent o f s o u l-b e lie f ( 1 9 1 8 : 8 1 - 9 3 ) , w here he had co n ­
dem ned the 'D o p p e lg ä n g e r' theory o f T y lo r and h is successors (see below,
n. 34 ) on the gro u n d s that certain cu ltu res ascrib e several souls to man (cf.
A rb m a n ( 19 2 6 - 7 ) ; B öh m e (19 2 9 ). passim and esp. 1 1 4 - 2 6 ; B rem m er (19 S 3 ).
passim ), but fe ll short o f rejectin g the notion o f 'so u l' itself. H e w as later to
m o d ify lm th eory o f the p rim itive m entality alm ost out o f existence: see csp.
L e v y - B r u h l ( 1 9 3 1 ) , the theory in its m ore m odest fo rm , then his 'Palinode
( 19 5 2 ) and fin ally the su b tleties o f his last w ork, the C a m els ( 1949)· H is
 The Categories o f Body and Soul 39
In the same wny, if w c now ask the w rong questions o f H om er
or his w ords there w ill be no lack o f w rong answ ers to m islead
us. Uut we face an added peril, a peril that F ra z e r’s m ission ­
aries did not face am ong the A b origines: because o u r poet is
dead and silent he cannot laugh back at us, so when we ask the
wrong questions it may never be obvious that we are on the
road to nowhere.

Dualism of body and soul is insidious

Above all, if wc think like lexicographers or w o rd -fo r-w o rd
translators we will be liable to create false categories and make
associations that do not exist for H om er. W ords like soul ,
'm in d', and ‘s e l f lack concrete or verifiable referents, so they
have an especially insidious pow er over the categories o f our
thought.7 In particular, because learners o f G reek are taught to
translate ψ υ χ ή as 'so u l’ , and because that word and its tran s­
lations have persisted through the history o f religion and
philosophy, it is very easy to assum e that the H om eric ψυχή
is more or less the same thing as what one m ight talk about
nowadays in a discussion o f psychology or selfhood or the soul.
T o do that is to avoid the issue o f working out what that word
really means and how it belongs in the early G reek view o f
man: as Ruth Padel has written on the equivalent problem in
the language o f tragedy, ‘W hen we choose a w ord to translate
[ψυχή], wc tilt each passage with a particular load o f ψ υ χ ή ' ς
semantic heritage, picking over the debris o f centuries o f
reflection accumulated between the early G reek s and o u r­
selves.’8
Short of relying on endless doubt, is there any sure w ay to
Ur tine contribution w as the negatis’e side o f his approach , the all-im po rtan t
first step o f recognizing that the sort o f cu ltures that he called 'prim itive* sec
the w orld in different w ays from his ow n and o u rs (sec also E v a n s-P ritch a rd
( ι ς ό · ) , 8 1 fT.; L lo yd ( 19 9 ° ) , esp. 1 —5).
’ C f. G ill (199fr. ch. 1) on the p ro b lem that m odern definitions o f 's e lf­
hood', 'p erso n ality', and sim ilar can contam inate the stu d y o f G re e k ideas o f
psychological identity (see csp. 1- 3 ) .
' Padel (19 9 2 ), 32 ; the sam e point is m ade b y B rem m er (19 8 3 ), 4. C o n trast
V crm cule (19 7 9 ), 1 1 8 : T h e G reek s understood that body and soul parted in
death, o f course . . . T h e y never quite accepted it, h ow ever, and, as stro n g ly os
any other people, felt that the link en d u red '.
40 Prologue
break out o f the fram ew ork o f late tw entieth-century assum p­
tions? If nothing else, we can at least begin by looking more
closely at some o f the patterns o f thought involved, so as to put
ourselves m ore clearly on guard against becom ing trapped in
this maze o f m odern ideas about hum an identity. V ery crudely
stated, the W estern tradition in religion, philosophy, and
ordin ary language alike dictates that a person is divisible into
two things: on the one hand there is the body, and on the other
hand there is som ething else, som ething that m ight variously
be called the soul, the spirit, the mind, the self, das Ich, der
Lebensträger, Ie soi, or any o f m any such names.*' T o invoke this
dichotom y, how ever covertly, is to enter a skein o f ideas which
enm eshes the history o f religious, philosophical, and popular
ideas about man. C hristian dualism o f body and soul is only the
m ost overt m odern w orking-out o f this tradition. ‘ N oli foras
ire ,’ w rites A ugustine, ‘ in tcipsum redt: in interiore homine
habitat v eritas.’ ” S o stated, the C hristian model shades im per­
ceptibly into the C artesian, and ‘ C ogito ergo sum ' is only
another w ay o f w orking otit A ugustine’s principle. Since
D escartes, the effect o f what G ilb ert Ryle has called the
m yth o f ‘ the ghost in the m achine’ " has been to separate
body from m ind and identify the true self with the latter.
T h e structure is the sam e when the C hristian m oralist directs
his m ental and m oral life tit the salvation o f his immortal soul,
or when a schoolboy is urged to have a healthy mind in a
healthy body, or when a poet’s imagination distinguishes his
true se lf from what others see:
An aged man is h u t a paltry thing,
Λ tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its inmtol d ies»."
“ t in this point, and Ike tk rl, ti w hich follow» h e ir, I have hern gilided l*v
Its le (|<>|(|; cap 1 1 —J |> and T a y lo r (ly K g· r»p .1- 110 ) , lint'll it m n ic i lied
p rim arily ssilli p ie tr n iin g a l i i o n o · al iinalyti» at harlign nin d I» In« own
llirn t ira, «0 a is natn ial dial hndi lend in collap»e d ir ili«tin< lion between die
In tln iy of p ln ln x ip liy and o f everyd ay hellef» anil language.
A u g . I)r i'em irltKionr to 7 1 (ipinled h y T a y lo r (19 8 9 ), 129). See alto
lle in tle m (0 19 .1), j e 7 - . 1 1 .
11 lly le ( iv t'# ), 1 s - i f i and funthn.
11 \V. II Y e a l* in 'S a ilin g in Ityrantiiim ’ , from 7Vie 7Ymrr (19 2 8 ). O n the
Im age o f the »out In Y e m · »ee e»p. Nnlhnndun (19 7 7 ).
 The Categories o f Body and Soul 4i

Such dualism rem ains pervasive in the present generation,

where (for exam ple) a sin ger-so n gw riter can distinguish his
true se lf from his body w hen he faces the prospect o f death,
Lord, my body has been a good friend,
but I won't need it when I reach the end, . . .
while another pins his identity on his soul:
I dreamed I was dying:
I dreamed that m y soul rose unexpectedly
and looking back down at me y
smiled reassuringly,
and I dreamed I was flying . . .
Perhaps there is som ething self-co n sciou sly religious, even
archaic, in Paul S im o n ’s talk o f his soul here. In the w orld
most readers will have been b rou gh t up in, the key w ord is
more likely to be ‘s e lf ’ : as C harles T a y lo r rem arks in the
prosaic term s o f the academ ic philosopher, *\vc naturally
come to think that we have a se lf in the sam e way that we
have legs and arm s.’ 15 T h e concept o f the se lf can be endlessly
undermined by intellectuals, but it rem ains pervasive; anti the
gulf between it and the body is invoked every time words come
together in a form like the opening o f a letter to an agony aunt,
'I have a good hotly but 1 don't feel happy inside myself’. In
each case human identity is pinned on a spiritual core which is
within and distinct from the physical stu ff o f the hotly. T h is is
not the place lor a potted history ol the concepts o f sell, soul,
ami person; the crucial point is that d illcrcn t form s o f the same
dualism have trickled into ordin ary language and assum ed the
status ol a kind ol popular dogm a. A s soon as 1 speak o f the
nnul or the hotly the shades of men like D escartes, A ugustine,
St Paul, anti Plato hirnsrll link in the background. M y words
are laden with the ttadition, and if I use them uncritically I
remain its p riso n er.1''
( ut Slovron, ‘Mil«·» from Nowhere', on the iillnini Ten fur ihr Tillennnn
(1070)
" fa u l b im on , 'A m e rin m T u n s ', on the nllnirn T here fintu K livin in ' Nhimn
(urn)·
” (ι·>Ηι>). 1 1*.
t iill 1) in likrw inc con cerned to rem ove Ciirtcninn asm nnpiion» from
Ion iippronih to iir c c k idem o f die »elf, hui nddrc»»cn n d ilfcren l m pect o f llic
42 Prologue

Dualistic ivords and categories constrain scholarship

In its sim plest form this difficulty is well illustrated by T hom as
Ja h n ’s recent study o f the ‘sem antic field o f soul and spirit’ in
H om eric G re e k .1' Ja h n ’ s approach is to restrict h im self to the
lexical definition o f the H om eric words w hich answ er to the
categories o f Seele und Geist in his own language: and although
his investigation o f the dictional characteristics o f some o f these
nouns w ill prove very useful to us in due course, a question
m ark hangs o ver the idea o f the sem antic field itself.18 'I lie idea
o f a field o f m eaning is useful only if its external boundaries
and its internal subdivisions arc drawn up in some way that
does not distort the G reek realities.19 But b y concentrating on
two w ords in his own language to draw up the ground-lines,
Ja h n im plies that the H om eric w ords and ideas m ust occupy
the sam e field o f m eaning as is covered b y ‘soul and spirit’ .
T h a t this should hold good o ver two so w idely separated
cultural horizons is not obvious nor even likely.2" T h e short­
com ings o f the system are clearest when Jah n turns to the word
φοχι'ι,2' som e o f whose m ost striking appearances we have
already observed in C hapter t above. T h is word names the
shade o f the dead man in the U n derw orld, it names something
lost at death, and it is also a sign o f the life w hich is hazarded
when one risks death. T h e central problem o f ψνχή is the
relationship between those three senses and the precise im ­
plications o f the third. Ja h n assum es first that those three
o rth o d o xy, not b o d y -so u l d u alism but the 'su b ject-cen tred ’ m odel o f man
thut posits on u n d ivid ed in dependent s e lf os autonom ous psychological agent
(sec cap. 6—1 1).
17 Jo h n (19 8 7 ) . In the fo llo w in g notea I have translated Jo h n 's G erm an.
Jo h n relies on the "W ord field’ th eory o f Jo st T r ie r ( 1 9 3 1 ) . originally
fram ed in n stu d y o f developm en ts in psych ological vo cabu lary in medieval
G c m to n . .
'» S e e in p articu lar Jo h n 's tab ular classification ( 1 9 s ? : i » 9- = 3) H is
assu m p tio n o f a correspondence betw een G ree k and G e rm an concep.ual
stru ctu re s is n ev er questioned or ju stifie d , even w hen Jah n accepts in passing
that the con stitu en ts o f his W ordfield arc 'in no w ay a hom ogeneous un ity' 19)
J “ O n ce the determ in in g categories are im posed w illy -n illy on the G reek
m aterial. 1 sec no reason to expect H o m e r's view o f m an to follow a pattern
w h ich 'sh o w s a stru cture o f the p sych ic sphere w h ich is m eaningfu l, internally
logical an d therefore p lau sib le ’ (Jah n (19 S 7 ). 12 2 ).
31 Ib id . 2 7 - 3 S .
 The Categories o f Body a>ui Soul 43
senses must refer to a single entity with an ‘existence o f three
phases’ ,“ and proceeds to assess it according to the criteria that
define his idea o f a psychological centre: Is it an ‘ inner faculty ,
and is it responsible for 'soul-spirit life’ or a subdivision o f that
life? Answ ering each o f these questions in the negative, but
continuing to assum e that it must be som ehow scclisch-gctsttg,
he gives it a definition o f its ow n: ‘ C arrier o f life, vital principle;
part o f the human being that survives after death . . . in our
own area o f ideas: “ so u l” as a transcendent, religious idea .
That he is able to come full circle in this w ay is^the result o f
working through definitions based on a priori assum ptions
rather allowing him self to be guided by the w ay H om er uses
his language in practice.2'1
Λ different version o f the same difficulty is illustrated b y Ja n
Brcmmcr’s study o f early G reek so u l.26 Instead o f attem pting
to fit Hom eric concepts into the categories provided by
contemporary W estern ideas, Brem m er im poses a paradigm
lifted from Ernst A rb m an ’s paradigm atic scheme o f prim itive
soul-belief based on the V ed as.25 Putting all his trust in the
comparative method Brem m er proceeds on the assum ption
that early Greek beliefs can be m apped onto A rb m an ’s m odel,
according to which the prim itive believes that man is equipped
with ‘a free soul representing the individuality o f a person and
the body-souls endowing a person with life and conscious­
ness.’2Λ T h e problem is that even if the w orld -pictures o f early
“ Ibid. 38.
3 Jzhn (19 8 7 : 32) sim ply assigns ψυχή to ‘n quite differen t d istrict w ithin
the soul-3pirit W ordfield from the six other in ner centres’ .
“ John (19 8 7 ), 1 2 1 . C f. the equivalent form ulation on p. 30 .
T o be fair to John, he concludes his sketch w ith a disclaim er: "T h e p u rely
semantic analysis o f ψυχή in the fram ew ork im posed on this w ork is hereb y
cor.dudrd: fu rther investigations tow ards a detailed un derstan din g o f the
image that associates itself w ith the w ord ψυχή in H o m e r’ s ideas, w ou ld be the
topic of an en qu iry into religious d evelopm ent, cu ltu ral h istory, and an th ro ­
pology. for w hich the present w ork . . . can su p p ly on ly the lexical
foundations (19 8 7 : 38). B ut the real question o f w o rd -m ean in g rem ains
unanswered if ’sem antic analysis' is ullowcd to proceed w ithou t ad d ressin g
cultural questions at the sam e time.
“ Brem m er (19 8 3 ). S ee also M. L. W est’ s review (19 8 56 ).
3 ArblYtan ( 19 2 6 - 7 ) . F or an earlier attem pt to fit H o m e r’ s ψυχΐ) into
A rbm an's schem e, see Böhm e (19 2 9 ), 1 1 4 —26.
3< Brem m er (19 8 3 ), 1 1 .
 44 Prologue
G reek epic and o f the V ed ic hym ns share a com m on ancestor
in rhc same w ay as their two languages, the archetype would
lie so far back that we could not assum e in advance that a
significant structure is shared b y the cultures em bodied in the
existing literatures.29 T o m ap the one onto the other is to
confuse the ancestry o f ideas with the shape they actually take
in a livin g system .30
T h e se two studies illustrate two pitfalls that lie before us:
first, the tendency to fit H om eric w ords to definitions that make
sense only in our own language and time, and secondly the
tem ptation to fit H om eric ideas onto fram ew orks lifted from
other cultures or from invented universal m odels. T h e inter­
p lay between those two strategies is again illustrated by the
series o f attem pts to define an early G reek doctrine o f the soul
that was launched by E rw in R o h d e's analysis in Psyche.3'
R ohd e tried to define the ψνχή as a spirit which is dormant
d urin g life but underlies all psychological activity and is finally
released at death to go to H ades:
Doth the v isib le m a n (the b o d y and its faculties) and the in d w elling
ψ υχή c o u ld b e d e s c rib e d as the m a n ’ s self. A c c o r d in g to the H o m e r ic
v i e w 1 u im a n b e in g s exist tw ic e o v e r : o n ce as an o u tw a rd and visible
s h a p e , and a g a in as an in v is ib le 'im a g e ' w h ic h on ly ga in s its freedom
at d e a t h .32
3® T h e sam e criticism ap p lies to G . N a g y 's essay (19 0 0 0 : 8 5 - 1 2 1 ) analysing
H o m eric ψνχή, μ ίνα ς, and θυμός in the light o f V ed ic m ythology. N a g y ’s
argu m en t depends first on assu m in g that a com plex doctrin e o f the soul is
o b liq u ely referred to in the episode o f P atro clu s' ghost (x x m . 6 5 - 10 « ) in
p articu lar, and secon d ly on extrap olatin g sophisticated lore not from H om er
hut from the V e d ic cognates o f a few H om eric form ulae (notably μίνας jjii
(x-xtv. 6 )). I cannot attem pt a fu ll critiq u e here because I cannot read V ed ic;
fo r p resen t p u rp oses, it suffices that the evidence w ithin H am er for the
d o ctrin e pro po sed by N ag y is slight, so that his argum ents about the Indo-
E u ro p ean an cestry o f w ord s and ideas do not easily translate in to analyses o f
the sh ap e they take in H om eric tradition proper.
A t one point B rem m er (19 8 3 : to) seem s m ore cau tiou s ahout the
practical usefu ln ess o f his stu d y for the G ree k m aterial: 'It seem s reasonable
to a p p ly [A rb m n n ’ s] m ethod to the problem o f G ree k so u l-b e lie f in order la
establish its usefulness fa r the stu d y o f archaic G ree k s o u l-b e lie f' (m y italics).
In p ractice , h ow ever. B rem m er seem s less concerned w ith ap p lyin g A rb m an 's
m eth o d o lo gy than w ith fo rcin g his th eory onto the G ree k evidence.
*' R oh d e (10 2 5 ). ch . I , esp 4 - 10 . T h e argum ent is review ed in the first part
o f R egen bo gen (19 4 8 ); and see also C lau s ( 19 8 1) , 1 —7.
R oh d e (10 2 5 ). 6.
 The Categories o f Body and Sold 45
If this pushes ancient ideas through a m ill o f logic, it is because
Rohde wanted to fit his analysis into the fashionable theory that
explained prim itive so u l-b elief '13 through the doctrine o f the
Doppelgänger, a shadow y second se lf w hich is dorm ant in the
living man and leaves the body at death.14 T o ju stify this he had
to rely on a fragm ent o f Pindar ( 1 3 1 b M ) fo r the m ysterious
doctrine that a wraith (αιώνος ίΐδωλου) is im prisoned in the body
during the w aking hours and escapes d uring sleep .35 N othing
in H om er’s depiction o f man and φυχή suggests such sharp
dualism , and P in d ar’s revelations alm ost certainljj em erge from
a very different traditon: w ith h in dsight R o h d e’s insistence on
the Doppelgänger looks like slav ery to the intellectual fashions
o f his own day. In reaction W . O tto3i' proposed a definition in
two parts, w hereb y the prim ary m eaning o f the w ord was ‘ life*,
and its name was transferred to the part o f man that survived
death— the w ord for ‘life’ stood also fo r w hat replaces life.37
” On the lu re o f the con cept o f the p rim itiv e c f. N ilsso n ( 19 4 t ) and (19 6 7 ),
40-4.
M R ohde ( 19 2 5 : ch. i) avo w e d ly aim s to fit H o m e ric d e a th -b e lie f onto the
D oppelgänger m odel (sec esp. p. 6, citin g H e rb ert S p e n ce r). C f. F ra z e r (19 2 2 ),
18 9 -9 4 ; T y lo r (19 0 3 ), i. 4 2 8 -9 . fo r a m odel o f 'p rim itiv e philosophy*
m aintaining that dream s and the p ro blem o f the co rp se led to the appearance
o f the supposed p rim itive b e lie f in the soul as a second self; also L é v y -B r u h l
( in iS ) , 7 - t 9 , 8 1 - 2 ; (19 6 3 [ 1 9 2 7 ] ), t ftt- 9 ; and on the h isto ry o f the concept o f
the D oppelgänger, w hich acq u ired a sp u rio u s o rth o d o xy in an th ro p o lo gy and
psychology alike, see R ank ( 1 9 7 1 ) .
11 R ohde (19 2 5 ), 7. O n this fragm ent sec E p ilo g u e , p p . 3 1 0 - 1 2 .
3' O tto (19 2 3 ). F o r the point that P in d a r’s αι'ώΐ'ο; «Έωλοι· is not H o m e ric see
pp. 1 5 - 2 1 . In his con cepts o f 'life-sou l* and ‘ death-soul* (θυμός and ψυχή
respectively) O tto w as ap p lyin g another m odel o f 'p rim itiv e th o u g h t', d raw ing
on the early w o rk o f L é v y - B r u h l (see esp. O tto ( 19 2 3 ) , 1 3 - 1 5 ) . O tto says (2 1)
that his m ethod is to ad van ce the H o m e ric evid en ce first and on ly then turn to
a com parison w ith the b eliefs o f p rim itiv e s’ ; but this docs not seem to in form
his practice, w h ich depends on o v er-co m p e n satin g for R o h d e 's shortcom in gs
by fo rcin g e ve ry e xam p le o f ψυχή into the category cith er o f ‘d e ath -so u l’ or
’life ’ , w ith no m id d le grou n d .
S e c Otto ( 19 2 3 ) , 2 3 —3 1 ; and cf. R o h d e ( 19 2 5 ) , 2S—30. O tto pushes ‘ life ’ as
a translation for ψυχή even w hen it is lost in sw oon s (sec below , C h . 5, pp. 14 0 ­
3). N eh rin g (19 4 7 ) extends the argu m en t in the sam e vein; W arden ( 1 9 7 1 ) is
equivocal on w h ether the w ord ‘life ’ is a m ean in gfu l equ ivalen t for ψυχή, C laus
( 19 8 1) is the latest sch o lar to fo llow this cou rse. H e m akes ψυχή one o f a grou p
ot w ord s, o th erw ise dom in ated b y θυμός, w h ich ench refer som etim es to
in dividu al acts o f thought and em otion and som etim es to 'a force o r energy
on w h ich the " l i f e ” o f a m an d ep en d s’ ( 1 5 ) . Fncing the fact that H o m e ric ψυχή
46 Prologue
'Phis was not far from ‘ L u cu s a non lucendo’ , and others w ere
quick to object to the theory that a single word m eant such
ditTcrcnt th in gs.3" E . B ick el39 m aintained that H om eric man
‘ dies twice’ , once when he expires and once when he is
crem ated, with the ψυχή as a soul w hich leaves only at
crem ation;4" then J . Böhm e41 argued that ψυχή w as a ‘death-
so u l’ w hich w as lost at death alongside the θυμός as ’ life-so u l'.42
A ll these theories— schem atic, alm ost catechetical— were

is not used in these w a y s , he argues that Ilo m c r artificially avo id s using the
w ord in these senses because a sem an tic clash w ould be caused b y the
pro m in en ce in the e p ics o f the other ro le o f the ψ υχα! as shades o f the dead.
A p art from the fact that it is hard to im agin e such a cou rse being follow ed in a
liv in g lan g u age, it is im p o ssib le to get to g rip s w ith the theory because C lau s
docs not expln in w hat o 'life -fo rc e ' is: the w ord appears in his opening
d iscu ssio n o f αίώ ι— ' " life - fo r c e " in a not v e ry p recisely defined sen se'
( 12 ) — b u t it is not e xp lain ed any fu rth e r. D iscu ssin g som e o f the problem atic
passages in w h ich he w ou ld translate ψυχή as 'life -fo rc e ', he takes refuge in a
referen ce to 'lan g u ag e w hielt is tran sp aren tly m etaphorical and . . . should
w arn against literal in terp retation o f any o f these p h rases' (64), w hich is again
hard to un d erstan d . S e c also C h . 4, p. 68.
’ * E sp . B ickel (19 2 6 ), 3 2 - 4 . S e c also R egen bo gen (19 4 8 ), 3 - 5 .
” (19 2 6 ). liic k c l's con cept o f the 'liv in g co rp se ' d raw s on som e o f the sam e
m aterials as I w ill in m y discussion o f the relationship betw een and
ή κυς/νίκρός (C h . 6), but he w ork s throu gh a m odel dependent on equating
G re e k w ith Israe lite and E gyp tian id eas (sec esp. his pp. 1 2 - 1 5 ) . H is theory
o f the 'secon d d e ath ' (on w h ich see also o u r C h . 6 n . 68) is a good exam ple o f
the p itfalls o f lookin g for organized doctrin es w here none ought to be
expected (see esp . 8 2 -6 ). H is m eth od ology in vo lv e s a particu larly insidious
A n a ly st oppronch, taking H om eric death -lore as a patchw ork o f elem ents
from differen t p erio d s: he sets up h is ow n ‘ livin g corp se' m odel as the
U rjorm (sec esp. 6—12 ) and expluins eve ryth in g that contradicts as intrusions
reflectin g the (e q u ally a rb itra rily defined) an im ism o f later G ree k thought.
B ick e l’ s an im ism turns ou t to rely o n another u n iversal con struct, no m ore
H o m e ric than R o h d e ’s D oppelgänger and d raw in g on theories o f the doctrine
o f tran sm igration and d iv in ity o f the soul (see esp . 10 0 - 3 3 , on soul as
δαίμων).
*° B ickel (19 2 6 ), passim . B ickel seem s to h ave been the first to build on the
fact that ψυχή is d escrib ed in im u gcry draw n fro m breath and the lungs (see
esp. 4 8 -5 0 ), so m ethin g others had tended to ignore in their concern w ith
doctrin es os op p o sed to plain facts o f language.
* ' (19 2 9 ), e sp . 10 2 - 6 .
41 B u h m e 's s tu d y o f ψυχή is the least open ly dependent on un iversal m odels
o f p rim itive thought, though it in volves ap p lyin g A rb m a n ’s m odel o f death-
soul and m u ltip le life -so u ls ( 1 1 4 - 2 6 ) . in m uch the sam e w ay that w e saw it
fo rced onto H o m e r in B re m m e r’ s book (sec obovc, p. 43)·
 The Categories o f B ody aiul Soul 47

replaced by the m ore incisive form ulation o f O. R egen b ogen ,

who defined the ψυχή as a sort o f substratum o f life, m entioned
most often in the context o f death but ^ rem aining as an
underlying essence, the 'conditio sine quo non o f m ental actn ity
and consciousness.4 1*44 R egen b ogen ’s definition is both the c lear­
est and the most influential, and w e m ust keep it in m ind as we
proceed: but it once again invites the objection that it sets up a
lexical definition that is not ju stified by the facts o f H om eric
language. W e will be able to show that the definition glosses
over the fact that in practice the w ord is not used in the context
o f life as lived, but only with reference to its end in death or in
the loss o f consciousness that com es w ith a sw oon. Γο define
ψυχή in R egen bogen ’s w ay is effectively to id entify it as the soul
o f man: by em phasizing what seem s logical rather than w hat
Homer actually says, the scholar allow s him self to fall back on
dualism o f the fam iliar tw entieth-century kind.

The quest ahead

It takes a very long tim e to read those books, and their
enduring lesson is that the only w ay forw ard is to throw aw ay
every crutch and let the H om eric w ords speak fo r them selves.
T h is will amount to advancing a sustained hypothesis by
trying to fit the H om eric evidence into a single stru ctu re o f
ideas, a structure w hich should be plausible if it fulfils four
criteria. It should be reasonably sim ple; it should explain the
relevant w ords o f the texts in a plausible w ay; it should not
rely on any gaping assum ptions that are n ever backed up b y
the text; and it should include everything that H om er says
about human identity into a single overarchin g an alysis.
Inevitably, within the prescribed fram ew ork som e o f o u r
interpretations o f w ords and phrases w ill be ob vio u s and
some w ill claim to be no m ore than plausible, but 1 hope
that som e will draw out m eanings that have hitherto gone
41 («94»).
44 'the conditio tine qua non for θυμός, peYor e tc .' (R e g e n b o g e n (19 4 8 ), 1 1 —
12). W here H om er is concerned there is little real d iffe re n ce betw een
Regenbö J*cn‘ s and R o h d e 's version s o f the th eory that ψυχή d w ells in the
living: T h e final p ro o f o f the idea that the ψυχή m u st have been liv in g in m an
is the fact that it is separated from him in death* (R o h d e ( 19 2 5 ) . 30 ).
48 Prologue
unnoticed; und if any o f them carry credibility it w ill be as
parts o f a larger whole.
T h e starting-point, as we have suggested, will be to cast
aside the crutch o f the m odern assum ption that man is a thing
o f two parts, 'flic r e are three especially dangerous traps ahead.
T h e first would be to assum e that the activity o f thought and
em otion m ust im ply the possession of som ething that can he
separated off from the body in the w ay that our own culture
separates ofT the thing we call the m ind; the second, corres­
po n din gly, would he to assum e that the su rvivo r in the afterlife
m ust he im agined as spirit w hich dwelt in the body o f the living
man and escaped from it at death. T h e third snare is more
sub tle. Λ system which distinguishes the body both from the
thinking m ind and from the su rvivo r in the afterlife will
in evitab ly associate these two with each other, since both
alike w ill he thought to partake o f spirit as opposed to
b o d y .45. H ere nothing is m ore influential on our assum ptions,
and m ore dangerous to the present en quiry, than the semantic
range o f the w ord 'so u l'. C on sid er the exam ple with which 1
began this book. D o n n e's declaration that there is a divine-
spirit inside the m aterial 'elem ents' that make up his body. If
this spirit is what he elsew here calls his soul, then it is in one-
sense the- sent o f thought and emotion and in another sense the
carrier o f his identity in the C hristian afterlife. Hence he can
distin gu ish body from soul when he woos a woman,

T ' o u r b o d ie s t u r n w e th e n , th at s o
W e a k m e n o n lo v e re v e a le d m a y lo o k :
Love’s mysteries in souls do grow.
H u t y e t th e b o d y is h is b o o k . . .

and likew ise when lie im agines the resurrection o f the dead for
the L ast Ju d g em en t:
A t th e r o u n d e a r t h 's im a g in e d c o r n e r s , b lo w
Y o u r t r u m p e t s , a n g e ls , a n d a r is e , a r is e
F r o m d e a th , y o u n u m b e r le s s in fin itie s
Of s o u ls , a n d to y o u r s c a tte r e d b o d ie s g o .41

* ' O n the iden tification o f th in kin g m ind with im m ortal soul in C ath o licism
after l'e s c a r te s , see M i-M an n ers ( i q S i ), eh*. 5 and 6. csp. ta o -fi,
** ’T h e E c s ta s y ', 11. <>9-7» in So n gt aiu l S o u rit,
(Sre opfiotilr /tagt fur η 77I
 The Categories o f Hotly ami Soul
Ideas and word« (dike arc m oulded by the structure o f soul and
body, inner and outer, which fold« up mental life with life after
death. N ow adays there is nothing exclusively Christian about
this: for exam ple the classical scholar li. K. Dodda, whose
influential theories o f ψοχή w ill be rioted later in this b o ok /*
makes exactly the sam e connection in a Ycatsish poem o f his
own, ‘T h e M oon W orsh ipp ers’ :
W r arc the p artly real ones
W h o s e b o d ie s a re an a c c id e n t ,
W hose h alf-born souls were never paennt
T o fix their insubstantial thrones
Inside a house o f blood and hones.4'1

Mis fantasy accidentally m akes explicit the skein o f ideas and

connections in w hich anyone m ay be enm eshed when the word
‘soul’ creeps into a discussion about life after death; and it
seems to me that in D od d s’s scholarly w ritings his enthusiasm
for cross-cultural com parisons between G reeks anti 'B o rn eo
and the prim itive past’ 511 did little to rem ove the insidious
influence of his own upbrin ging. M y hope lies rnther in vigilant
self-consciousness: by refusing to rely on the concept o f soul in
the first place it should be possible to read the H om eric data
without assum ing that there is a close association between
psychological life and life after death, or that the essential
part of man should be the sam e in both those environm ents.
T h is is my policy as we enter the m eadow o f H om eric w ords—
ποΛ«*ϊ 5’ Λ·ι μνΟιΗ
π α ιτ ο ίο ι, «π ό υι· S i η ο Λ ύϊ νομόν Λ On κα ί ii fla, (XX, 2.ρ>)

'* //■>/>· Saiineli η. ι-^.

** Sec Ch. i n . I. Ch. ft n. q8.
In L . Iloltin son (0 12 7 ) , 2 0 1 - 2 . C o m p u te h is poem 'W h en the ecstatic
body crip s . . .' (ibid <jt - 2 ) , w hich evo k es n sim ilu tly sh arp dich otom y o f body
und »oul in un erotic context rem iniscen t o f D o n n e 's 'T h e E c sta sy ' quoted
■ trove,
“ dost). 13.
 P A K T II

Ί it* Language of Thought

and Life

✓
 3

T h e B reath o f L ife and the

M ea n in g o f ψ υ χ ή

y
The shape o f Homeric man
Our concern is w ith the w o rd s and im ages w ith w h ich H o m er
goes behind the external shape o f m an to exp ress or im p ly a
relationship betw een the consciousness— as it w ere the ‘ I ’— and
the visible stu ff o f the body. A lo n g the sto ry-lin e these fall into
three groups. F irst is the rendering o f con scio u sn ess— thought,
emotion, introspection— w here this ‘ I ’ thinks and feels w h ile
the bodily man stands or m oves. N e x t com e n arration s o f and
allusions to the m om ent o f death, w h ere the conscious se lf
must depart or be extinguished or un d ergo som e other tran s­
formation along w ith the collapse o f the v isib le m an; and finally
we move to the depiction o f H ades, w here an im agined life (or
half-life) goes on w hen the b o d ily m an has been buried or
otherwise put aw ay from sight. In each o f these areas w e enter a
com plex territory o f language and ideas, and w e cannot pick a
path through it unless we begin by id en tifyin g landm arks. In
all three terrains the m ost prom inent feature is a closely knit
group o f nouns: and although w e w ill deal in practice w ith
processes no less than things, our first p rio rity is to p in -p o in t
the m eanings o f these nouns.
A bald sum m ary w ill give us our co-ord in ates (see F ig . i). In
mental life the significant w ords are θυμός, φρήν/φρίνΐς, ητορ,
κήρ, κραδίη, and πραττίδ(ς, w ith the kindred but distin ct νόος. It
will be convenient to refer to these together as ‘the θυμός
fam ily’ , treating νόος as a distant cousin and reservin g its full
treatment for later in the d iscussion. T h e roles and functions o f
all these things are bound up together, so that w e w ill be less
anxious to draw up their individu al definitions than to pin
down the single pattern in w hich they participate. Fo r this
54 The Language o f Thought ami L ife
1
*
4
E N T IT Y LO ST
A T D EATH

*
4

F ig . i. T h e p rovin ces o f the m ajor nouns to be studied.

purpose the label o f ‘ fam ily’ is conveniently vague and allows

us to begin with a question m ark over the exact relationship
between them . A t the m om ent o f death φυχή. alternating with
θυμός and very occasionally ήτορ, com es to the fore when the
d yin g m an gasps out his final breath or his killer takes it from
him . H ere μόνος or αιών m ay also be the name o f the life which
is lost. F in ally, in H ades the carrier o f the dead m an's identity
is b y turns called νίκυς or νεκρός— roughly translatable as
‘corp se’— and φυχ-ι'ι or m ore rarely ciStuAov, a w raith or counter­
feit im age w hich represents the bodily appearance o f the
dead m an.
T h e re is clearly a problem : at a glance the noun φυχή seems
to break dow n the division into three areas, because it names i.
first what is lost at death and then the su rv iv o r in the afterlife. ·
 The Breath o f Life and M eaning o f ψυχή 55

T h is, is the point on w hich scholars have been apt to seize:

seeing that som ething called ψυχή escapes the b o d y at death,
and som ething called ψυχή lives a d reary life in H ades, it is very
easy to infer that this is the nam e o f the H om eric soul. A s I
suggested in m y discussion o f R egen bogen and other scholars
in the last chapter, that analysis invites suspicion b ecause it
makes the H om eric realities seem to fit so sn u g ly into the
highly idiosyncratic structure o f body and soul that w e have in
our own culture. M y approach w ill be to rem ove that stru ctu re
from the fram ew ork o f m y interpretation and asje a series o f
different questions, som e seem in gly perverse, in an attem pt to
grasp what this word really m eans. O ne question w ill be how
the ψυχή lost at death relates to the ψυχή o f the afterlife.
N orm ally, as we w ill see, the m eaning 3nd associations o f the
word arc fundam entally different in those two en viron m en ts,
the one am ong the visib le events o f this w orld , the other in the
unseen w orld o f myth. T h e few passages w here the ψυχή flies to
Hades after leaving the dyin g m an w ill turn out to be difficult
and creative articulations that arise from other and sim p ler
ideas. But I begin w ith a still m ore fundam ental question
invited by the ψυχή: if it is what departs at death, is it also
present in man during life? W hen H om eric man loses co n ­
sciousness for ever, docs his body give up a soul or an im atin g
principle that identified him as a m an?

Dues the living man have a ψυχή?

T he only w ay to answ er the question is to look at how
Homer actually uses the w ord: so for the m om ent w e w ill
lay aside all the instances o f ψυχή that refer u n am b igu o u sly to
death or to survival in H ades, reservin g them for full
discussion in due course, and take a closer look at the
residue. A s we do so the crucial fact w ill em erge that ψυχή
appears only in the context o f life lost or threatened, n ever o f
life held and en jo yed .' 1
1 W ith the argum ent that fo llow s co m p are B ö h m e (19 2 9 ), 1 1 0 - 1 3 ; also
more vaguely, D od d s ( 19 s 1). 16 : T h e o n ly recorded fu n ctio n o f the ψυχή in
relation td the livin g m an is to leave h im .’ W ilam o w itz’ s sim p le fo rm u latio n
, 3 1: rernalns ,h e m ost opt, takin g ψυχή as ‘ the cold breath o f d e ath ’ in
sharp distinction to the inhaled breath w h ich un d erlies life. S n e ll ( 1 9 5 3 : 8 -9 )
5 fr The Language of Thought anil Life
Tsvo images built up by Achilles will direct us towards an
answer. In one he develops the idea o f the final loss o f i/n<χή in
uniquely vivid terms:
AtjI iitoi μίν τ ( flati και tflia μήλη,
a' tijtoi HI t />i'ttoS«V T( και Γπηιον ζαιΌα κήριρα,
« iS jiih S« </ιΐ'\·ΐ) 7τιί.\ιΓ tWflttv α ν τ ί Atio π)
o t W A t n j , In ti ,ΐ,ι » o · ii/ih'i/htmi timos ilfiiim n r. (iX. ,(ofr-«))

M en can lose and acquire cattle and prizes as they will, but
when the ψe\t; is lost it is lost for ever.2 Since the implication is
that the return o f the φν\ή would im ply the return o f life,
A ch illes’ words stiggest that the φνχη wit ich is lost at death
carries a meaning which might be extended further to link it to
the life that men live and enjoy; but this potential is not
brought to birth in what he says, and the idea o f its return is
seen as something absurd or impossible, Com pare this with
another image in the same speech:
mW ri μ at κ ι |ι /κ · ι μ ι , < n ii m lftii 1ι(.\)'·ιι Ον/ι*λι,
a ι’ι i ι|ΐι)ι yh>v}r »npo/lnWifyum v nn.\»pi{«iv, (ix . J j)

\> Inlles savs that nothing has been gained by 'casting ln» t/n'\ij
about' when he has risked his life in the liny. T h e Image tuny
suggest gam bling, casting the </·ΐ'\ι} atouud as one tattles lots in
an m u ,1 01 mote »imply it may tefet to the loss nl •/*ι·\ij whi« h
m in is when a man in wounded, exhausted, in finally dying

Ik « II ill I, UI', mi lit·' i) nl like living, lall lit* Ml unilH'lil I» I ml illlil el V · I·'ill II··
•tin i Imi ' l i l , ' I· nnlv n . null' m ini ,ιΙ,ι*·. till \J >) anil llml ilm/i ,) I« a··» I Ii iulum I
■ ■I k*»'o| kkΙηΊΐ lln »«»am In i «i mil l\ e, i m s Imllitn llml I liaiii’ l 'Inin n ι ί ·ι ·ι ί ·|·Ι nl
"It··' |·ι·»·0« nl lit··" η iiMlaaipiit « M i'll μ|·|ιιίη ■ in ninln1 an «ΙιιΙιη» nl mill / nyi)
n m il ti, lull It Ik iinl i Inn linn nil tlila i i liitv· I n tin1 iii'ki'l llml llml ψιι,χι) I" ill·'
lm · a η lm It tn i |m lit·' lininiin ΙηΊιιιι iiltvii' (Μ),
' t >ιι ililk (Mikkiiiii· nml lln mini nl ilnni|iln a·'·' sa|>, Tn|illii (IUM *I, ml·,
' \ t»i iin (inN .i m i 11, ki’i · ilii» iiiinii·’ na ti Mii|iii|ilini ilnnvn lim a
«ninililliiii, miinii minii llml ll la iililn In ·ι 1ρη //nit Λι/ιιι»ιι·, 0nyi)i' Λ' ",ΊιΛι
„ I»« st,»i tv r i k | - k i (i *, kvi (ilk)· tin liilti'i Inmiii·, In· ant··, 11 in |ili ·■ ·
"Inniki" mill "an n l" In i iinnlin» In a Hillin' nl «vut ish milii||i 1 ) nl hi ( i i i M/i m )
lllnakia In i> |<i, III sail la oo i in 'Illi' aii’il M« ll |iimaiia»|iiii,l mill
kinillm It m »a u i |M In linina nl inv m gnaisnl llml ■/>«>··) I» |iu i Im'lr ill·· millli'
«a i ·. i ili i» I In i,n li tail, I Ii i, (itUtUu I, Ii I in« V ·ιΙιιΐ|·Ιι In· llml t/iii,kι)ι· ιμι/hi
/I,· t tM/n 11» i |nt "ki'k In ii «lin gli' nml linn t|||ii|i'il tviiy lln' Ii Iimi llml Ini-illll I«
.....I alnna v In n n tvmilni gnk|i* m gmmi* III I'klninailmi, him iiiim IniimiM··, hi
llimlly il· Mill
 The fJrcatli uf L ife and Meaning o f φοχή 57
T h e context o f both passages is a speech o f peculiar introspec­
tion: and it is interesting that φινχή comes to the fore as it docs
when A chilles is reflecting on his own feelings in the light of
the prospect o f death: it is when he is most aware o f him self and
most isolated that his φνχή begins to take on som ething like an
existential role.'* But although he invokes it at a time when his
mood has been dictated by yielding to his passions in the most
intense self-aw areness, even here the core o f the images is that
the φιιχή will be lost in death, not that it underlies em otion,
thought, or active life. 'Phis is borne out later in the sam e scene:
when Achilles tines mention vitality in a fully positive sense he
calls it ΰΰτ/ιή, a word for any warm billow ing substance* which
has no special significance either for mental life or for the life
lost at death:
^•,»1.iVm i J TlTi/4.J.m .ll ,ί..» , ηΓ,ιι/ι,

(IX flo H - IO| s i ' l l X. Ki>- ijo )

What Ilus s u g g e s t s is that it in not e n o u g h In g l o s s φ>·χή us ‘ i h r

b i e a th ol lite': in fuel it is that b r c u l h o n l y in so far as it is
tllH-.ipaled
I li.it gives Us nur cue: the loss ol ι/my ij is (he dividing line
between lilt* and death, so it be« mum a sign til hie Inst tir
* I tu Λ· lilii· ·* | ι« · ι ι · ΐ |ΐ · ι Ilva « o r at l»imn«u>< m M m i l i i flijHii), 1 , f . 4 μι
Λ " " " · , "'ti ll tillill.iuiMl·ΙιV III r io ll io M111I1«·, lit |i.tol· iilm |i>« , mi I In· Ιιιι.ιμ.»
*'I Ί " ' ν \ ·*· IS I * * . t " l uk ' t>l II il 1 1«-1 i'Milll|tln ·ι| III·· »Iuli I n u . i i . l un li ito ll'lf
ΙιιιιμιΐιΐΜ» '
’ .In.,..) <111. mkIoiimIIv .III·,..)|) I· vtliHt 1. Ii.a un.l lilll.iwlug m l|.iwlii|i (m
r»ii111,11e till. W.llIII Ii.ihi.iii. ·> lit ιιι·Ίι. .1 ml |mv. I'/^J, ilia l.l.ikl Γιιιιιι
1 1 11in.»111» I..'IIIIW» (still I/O, Ilii «Iram »I l..illlii|| tviiUi (»a| g.liln*
|iiiiiIIiih ut ii iintil·1« (s«iu /ΙιχΙ, l|i.. l..iiiilnM«tuli 1l1.1t ..... ..... |'„|y
|·Ιι··Ι·»Ι·* UV« li.lll (Ik I Mil), ill.· ............. I.lnsl III win.Ik (kl .|I'H), «lie am. II n|
""'ll" " I fd l «'»'· >1111.1.1 I s v l kls ,
41 t i l) I n Us l i l n v a ...... ill
' .......b' ".""'"III. « Miynt«, Ilia ||... Ι,ιΐι,ι )s s |.... ill. ..I|y manlui .11 · 111» 11.11 ml
III ill" living mull .Ιιι.,ι.) 11. liti. I.iiisiih·' I ι,.ιι.ι.. I,. ... 1« 1111' I..11 1. Iinl.lii.l l>...Illy
linit i lm 11I, i. 1 11| .i 1111 in ||„ llmiik, t\ Ii. i r',is ilia ................. tt../..Ιι nt 44 m i i iu i lly
ιίιμ |||ι·Ι| ι I lini I I nu I.·· it|i|i<is.iil III Ills 1111V»|| III tvaiilmi's· III u hi IV 1 1 t 1-41
f 'H .U '" 'V I'li.l.u l.ly I,m il lim n 0 „. « ,„ „ „ ....... g ,* v a .li · ·ι Ι Μ((ιι,
lilnMi (list ns Willi in'sif/iit mul IIWill (mm l,tmi ·ν I' Ι·ί ί "ιΙΙι tin
I " " " 1· ' ' ......... MUt llllll·* ill 'll Ι ·· Ί \ ν ΐ ι ι| | all, I m ,„ ||| u V / '. / ( M l S ' l l
B V ’/ 1 l| I Mill) Mm. alsii I U ln s t v ii i lli al Is t.mi in

______________
58 The Language o f Thought and Life
threatened. W hen Achilles chases H ector around the walls,
they are said to be struggling not For an ordinary prize but for
H ector’s life or death, ntpi φνχήί Οίον Έκτορος ttmoSapoio
(X X II. 16 1) . A fter m ost o f Penelope’s suitors have been killed,
the rem aining brave few light to the death, rrtpi . . . φηχίων
(xxii. 245); O dysseus considers every plan for getting out of
Polyphem us' cave because his life is at stake, <2s rt πtpl φνχής
(ix. 423); and in the scene discussed above A chilles says that
the treasures o f T ro y are not worth dying for, ot) . . . ίμοί φυχής
αντάξιον (tx. 4 0 1).
In each o f the passages w e have observed, φ<υχη is defined as
the issue in the m ortal com bat: by an easy shift the word has
been extended from its sim ple sense as the thing whose loss is
tantam ount to death. S im ilarly H ector begs m ercy o f Achilles
by invoking three apparently heterogeneous things:
Χ ίο σ ο μ ' xnrip φ ν χ ή ί καί γ ο ύ ι·ω ν α ώ ν r t το κ η α ιν,
pi) pt ία ιταρά νηυσί xvvar καταδάφαι ’Αχαιών . . . (XXII. 338—9)
H ow docs φυχή belong here? H ector is asking A chilles to
rem em ber the things that b rin g a sense o f m oderation or self­
restraint to H om eric m an:6 his parents, his knees, and his
m ortality. A ch illes is not being asked to ‘look into his soul’
but to rem em ber the prospect o f death.7 Com pare another
speech w here A g en o r rem inds him self that A chilles is mortal:
κ α ί y a p Orjv τοότωι τρωτοί χρώϊ ό ζ ί ϊ χ α Χ κ ώ ι,
i v δ ί Γη φ ι·χ ή , θ ν η τ ό ν δ< « φ α α ’ ά ν θ ρ ω π ο ι
tpptvai. (χχι. 568—70)
T h is passage, m ore than any other, has prom pted scholars to
believe that the holding, as well as the loss, o f φυχή defines it as
the basis o f life.8 T h e context is clearly one o f rhetorical
11 O n them es in H om eric su p p lication see G o u ld ( 1973): elso R ichardson
ad loc.
’ C o m p are T h co clym en u s* w ord s w hen he supplicates T e le m a ch u s: Χίσαομ'
imip Ovtuiv και δαίμοι-of, αυτάρ /ττ«ιτα | αητ τ’ αοτοϋ κιφαλής και traipwv (χν. 2ÖI —
2). κοφαλή is m an y tim es invoked as a m eton ym ic sign fo r life at risk: see C h . 0
nn . 29, 3 0 . t
* O tto ( 19 2 3 : 2 5), uses the passage to p ro ve that φνχή can m ean ‘ life ’ : cf.
also R ich ard so n ad lo c., w ith S n e ll ( 1 9 53). 9'. A d k in s (19 7 0 ), 14 . Böhm e (19 2 9 :
1 1 1) is closest to the m ark w hen he specifies the reference as ‘life in con trast to
death*.
 The Breath of Life and Meaning of ψυχή 59
expansion rather than sim ple statem ent, but nevertheless it
prom pts the crucial question: if H om eric m an dies by losing his
ψυχή, docs it follow that he lives by holding it? B u t the context
shows that A gen or’s point is solely that A ch illes can die, so that
here again ψυχή stands for the distinction between life and
death, and the basis o f the image is its loss, ju st as in A chilles
own image o f the ψυχή thnt can pass only once out o f his m outh.
If the ψυχή is 'in ’ the man, it is there only as som ething that w ill
be lost.
T h e same principle applies in the proem o f^ h c Odyssey,
where O dysseus is defending or protecting his ψυχή am id
perils:
7ΤοΑλά S* o y ' (V nóiTun iraOrv aXyea ον κατα θυμόν,
άρΐ'ύμο'ο^ ϊ]ι· T f i/n’Vt;r και v6(TTov iraipojv. (i. 4—5)
Is the m etonym y significant to the point that when O dysseus
is apvvptvos his ψυχή lie is thereby provid in g him self w ith ψυχή
as ‘breath o f life’ in an active spiritual sense? T h e best clue to
the im agery here is provided by a few sim ilar references to
ψυχή at risk when men are at sea, when life is not vagu ely
losablc but actively set at hazard in the perils o f sailin g. T w ic e
in the Odyssey pirates are described as ψυχάς παρΟίμΐνοι
(iii. 74 = ix. 255), risking their lives ju st as the suitors are
σφάς . . . τταρΟϊμίνοι κιψαΧάς (ii. 237) when they court disaster
by their crim es. T h e precise im age in ψυχάς παρθίμ€νοι
becomes less m ysterious if we com pare it w ith the passage
where death by drow ning is actually im agined as gaping o p en ­
mouthed and gasping out breath, ττρός κύμα χανών από θυμόν
óXirac.i (xii. 35°) · i* is in this sense that O d ysseus is protectin g
him self from the loss o f ψυχή when he is in the sea, tv πόντωι:
he is w arding off the final gasping-out o f life that com es w ith a
death by drow ning. T h e image is essentially the sam e as w hat
Achilles deploys when he describes h im self as ψυχήν παρα-
βάλλομίνος, casting around his ψυχή, w hen he risks death in
battle.
A ll other H om eric instances o f ψυχή refer to its d eparture or
to its role as a w raith in Hades. A fter this su rv ey I hope it is
clear that the evidence gives no encouragem ent to the su p p o si­
tion that ψυχή is the substratum o f m ental life and con scio u s­
ness: in fact it has m eaning only in a negative sense, in so far as
(to The Language o f Thought and Life
life is lost or liable to be lost. In due course \vc w ill sec that
ψυχή is closely identified with the last gasp o f breath exhaled by
the d yin g man. A though its m eaning is extended m etonym i-
ca Hy so that it becom es a potent sym bol o f life lost or at risk, it
n ever ceases to be the sam e as the cold breath which passes into
the air at the m om ent o f death. T o sec it as the basis o f life as
lived and enjoyed would be to step beyond the H om eric I
■
depiction o f man, and to do so in a w ay that would map
H o m eric ideas w illy -n illy onto those o f our own culture. A s I
we proceed now to study the depiction o f thought, emotion,
and w ill, w e can be confident that the m ental life and identity o f i
H o m eric m an are not pinned on ψνχη. ..

Λ
 4
Mental L if e and the B od y

θυμός and its family

In this chapter we w ill try to understand the basis' o f H om eric
thought, em otion, and consciousness: so we turn to the nouns
θυμός, φρήν/φρίν(ς, -ητορ, κήρ, κραδίη, πραπίδες, and νόας, an sw er­
ing to the m ysterious group o f things w hich we have called ‘ the
θυμός fam ily’ . T h e sum o f the argum ent will be that these
things are m anifestations in action o f an ind ivisib le human
whole, a whole w here the com plexities o f m ental life make
sense best if apprehended w ithout tryin g to d ivid e man into
mind and body. T h is w ill send us to the relationship between
the ψνχή, the corpse, and the ‘ I ’ o f the dead man arm ed with an
important insight: if H om er’s un derstanding o f m ental life
involves no concept o f a spiritual core distinguishable from
the body, it w ill m ake good sense to avoid im posing the same
model on his view o f w hat happens at death.

The idea of psychological identity

From the start the question at issue can easily be distorted by
denying the com m on-sense assum ption that H om eric man is an
autonomous psychological agent. In one o f the m ore poetic
analyses o f H om eric psychology, H . F rä n k e l1 drew on the fact
that verbs o f seeing and know ing tend to include both the
mental act and the correspon din g physical action in a single
word, suggesting that the em otional sphere is not distinguished
from the cognitive, nor that in turn from the sphere o f action:
‘there are no bound aries, there is no cleavage between feeling
and the corporeal situ atio n .’ 2 Fränkel then went on to link this

I (19 7 5 ).* 7 5 -8 5 ·
Ibid. 7 9 . C f. O nions ( 1 9 5 1 ) , 1 3 —2 2; S e e l ( 19 5 3 ) , 3 0 2 -9 ; S n e ll ( 19 5 3 ) , 1 ­
4; Sch w ab l (19 5 4 )* 5 8 -9 . O n the assu m ption s about selfhood and the
62 The Language of Thought and Life
w ith the w ay H om er describes the intervention o f gods in
hum an thought. Ju st as m ind and b ody are not distinguished in
the psychological process proper, so there is no practical
distinction betw een independent m ental life and the prom pt­
ings im posed from outside by specific gods or the indefinite
δαίμων.* Fran kel generalizes in the m anner o f the arm chair
anthropologists o f his generation4 b y denying that H om eric
m an has a m ental life fixed b y the lim its o f his hum an fram e:
I f m a n is , a s it w e r e , a fie ld o f e n e r g y , w h o s e lin e s e x t e n d in to s p a c e
a n d t im e w it h o u t lim it o r r e s t r a in t , th e n e x t e r n a l f o r c e s , fo r t h e ir p a r t,
o p e r a te in h im w it h o u t h in d r a n c e , a n d it is m e a n in g le s s to a s k w h e re
h is o w n fo r c e b e g in s a n d w h e r e th a t fr o m o u t s id e e n d s . . . In th e
I l i a d , th e n , m a n is c o m p le t e ly a p a r t o f h is w o r ld . H e d o c s n o t
c o n fr o n t a n o u t s id e w o r ld w ith a d iffe r e n t in n e r s e lfh o o d , b u t is
in t e r p e n e t r a t e d b y th e w h o le , j u s t a s h e o n h is p a r t b y h is a c tio n a n d
s u f f e r i n g p e n e t r a t e s t h e to ta l e v e n t .5

T h is is a strikin g idea, even a Rom antic one, but it can hardly

be taken literally. R egard less o f the deeper m eaning o f divine
intervention, H o m eric language im plies a sense o f the psycho­
logical life that goes on in the bodily whole that w e call a man.
T a k e P h oen ix’ w o rd s when he w arns A chilles against stubborn
anger:
history o f ideas that tend to u n d erlie such analyses see G ill (19 9 6 ). =9~93
patsim .
* Friin kel ( 19 7 3 ) , 80. F o r the association o f H om eric psych o lo gy proper
w ith the question o f d iv in e in terven tion cf. D o d d s ( 1 9 5 1) , 1 3 - 1 8 , S n e ll (19 5 3 ),
2 3 - 4 2 ; S e e l ( 19 5 3 ) , 3 0 7 —9; S c h w a b l ( 1954). CSP· 4 8 6 ; L c sk y ( 19 6 1) , f - u .
A . S c h m itt (19 9 0 : 1 2 6 - 7 3 ) arg u es at length ( 1 2 6 - 1 7 3 ) that H om eric language
does in deed d istin g u ish reflective thought from reactions to external p ro m p t­
ings, b u t not in the term s applied b y S n e ll and other sch olars o f the tim e. Hts
critiq u e is m o stly con cern ed w ith the sch olars' ow n intellectual background
and its in flu ence on th eir categories o f in terpretation.
* A lth o u gh F riin kel does not cite L u c ic n L e v y - B r u h l b y nam e, the
resem blan ce to the th eories in that s a v a n t's L e i Fonclions mentales dans let
in d ites injerieures is un m istakab le (sec ab ove, C h . 2 , pp. 38 —9 w ith nn. 3—6).
T h e re is a ve ry sim ilar ve rsio n o f the 'o p en field' theory o f H om eric m an in
D o d d s ( 1 9 5 1 : 8 - 18 ) , re ly in g like Fran kel on the place o f d ivin e intervention in
H o m e ric p sych o lo g y . D o d d s ackn ow led ges h is debt to L e v y - B r u h l: see his
referen ce to L é v y - B r u h l ( 1 9 1 8 ) and to the theory o f participation ( l 9S>:
pp. v iii and 40).
5 Friinkel ( 1 9 7 s ) . 80 . C f. L ê v y - B r u h l ( 1 9 * 3 l« 9* 7l· «33- 5° ) . another
version o f an 'o p e n fie ld ' theory' o f «he p rim itive self.
 M ental L ife and the Body <>3

άλλα ού μ ή μ υ ι ται/τα νά<ι φ ρ ισ ί, μη&* δ α ίμ ω ν

ίν τ α ύ ΰ α τ ρ ί ψ α ι , φ ίλ ο ς . . . (IX- 6 θ θ —ι )

A question m ark hangs over the relationship b e t w e e n d ivin e

prom pting and A ch illes' ow n act o f w ill; but that question is a
matter o f m yth and cosm ology, and irresp ective o f its an sw er
we must look on a lower and sim pler plane o f ideas to find out
what H om er m eans by the w ords αύ μη μοι ταύτα roei φρζσι.
What arc φρΐνίς, what docs the verb voc'ut m ean? W here and
how is mental life believed to be goin g on?

The mental apparatus has many names but is undivided

When I talk o f ‘ the θυμός fam ily’ I choose a label that cannot
be taken literally, because the relationship betw een the en tities
in question is very difficult to grasp . I have argued (C h . t,
pp. 15 —22) that the form ulaic theory o f H o m eric diction
should not allow us to believe that his w ords are vague and
woolly in m eaning, and throughout this study I trade on the
basis that all w ords— including epithets— carry m eaning as
distinctly and precisely as they w ould in the m ost straig h tfo r­
ward and prosy language. N one the less, w e can accept that
H om er’s vocabulary includes system s o f interchangeable
words which are sw itched for the sake o f m etrical c o n ven i­
ence, and that the sem antic edges o f a particular w ord m ay be
blurred when it functions in this w ay. A fam iliar exam ple o f
such a system is the array o f collective nam es fo r the
G reeks— 'Αχαιοί, Δαναοί, ’Apyeioi, and so on— w here the poet
can switch between the names in the course o f a short passage
referring to a single host o f w arriors. In an im portant stu d y
T . Ja h n has shown that the nam es o f θυμός, φρΐ\ν/φρίν*ς, ητορ,
κήρ, κραδίη, and πραπίδΐς arc interchangeable in exactly this

(19 8 7 ). 18 2 -2 4 6 . In the cases o f Θνμός, φρχνις, ητορ, χήρ, κραδίη, and

epairiSer. Jah n docum ents this pattern e x h a u stiv e ly : b y co llatin g p assag es und
form ulae referrin g to each o f 37 species o f em otion al and in tellectual a c tiv ity ,
b y com paring disparate references to the a n g e r o f A ch ille s again st A g a m e m ­
non, w hich he takes as a test case, and b y co m p arin g su cc essiv e lin es or
form ulae In description s o f sin gle m ental acts. Ja h n ’ s fin d in g is b ased p rim a r­
ily on passages in w h ich the p sych o lo gical n o u n has a ‘ p leo n astic fu n ctio n ' and
is not cru cial to the gram m ar o f the sen ten ce, but p assag es in w h ich the noun
 ^>4 The Language o f Thought and I.ifr
\v«v,n exhib iting the chntnctcrixtics nf ‘rtingc' mul 'rcn nn m y'
«lint M i!m an Parry iilcntificil in his pioneering stm ly nf nnmc-
cpithct lurrm ilnc.7 (gone is n special case, with a peculiar
iilen tity o f its ow n, but in practice it plays its part in the
system alonR w ith the other nouns.") Jn h n 's finding lends us to
n view o f H om eric p sychology w hich has no parallel in our
ow n InnRuaRc: in a Riven type o f context there m ay he a
tendency for one or other o f the nouns to he used particularly
often — Ov/tós, for exam ple, is especially connected with p as­
sionate em otion ’ — but there is no firm distinction, and the
nouns arc freely interchanged across different passages or
even w ithin the description o f a single act o f th o u gh t."’
'I'h is does not m ean that they arc sem antically identical, ju st
as an ad jective docs not necessarily becom e m eaningless when
it is part o f a system o f nam c-cpithct form ulae; but it in d i­
cates con vin cin gly that in practice H om er treats them as
interchangeable labels for a single ap paratu s.11
A sim ple fact corroborates this. N ow here do the entities in
the fam ily behave in opposition to each other, in the w ay that
(fo r exam ple) reason and passion or the heart and the mind
m igh t be opposed in our own language; and likewise a com plex
is m ore c lo se ly in tegrated seem to fo llo w the sam e pattern o f broad in ter­
c h an g eab ility (Jn h n 's ‘ p regn ant fu n ctio n s', 2 1 2 —46).
7 Jn h n (19 8 7 ) . 217- 98 ·
* S e e b elo w , n. 14 8 .
9 C a sw e ll (19 9 0 : 4 9 -5 0 ). corrob orates Jn h n w ith a useful su m m ary o f the
p attern s b y w h ich each o f θυμός and its cou sins predom inates in certain types
o f co n text b u t acts e lsew h ere as a ‘ fu nctional syn o n ym ' o f the others.
1,1 Ja h n 's p io n e e rin g w o rk enables us to go fu rth er than C la u s (19 8 1) , w ho
sp e n d s m u ch e ffo rt on assign in g d istin ct m eanings to the d ifferent nouns in
th is g ro u p (ch. 1 pnssivi), and B re m m e r (19 8 3 ), w h o assu m es a priori that
Buflór. (fipivet, and the oth ers are to be taken as a grou p o f distinct entities;
s im ila rly C h e y n s (19 8 5 ) tries to d istin gu ish the m eanings o f ητop, injp, and
κρα&ιη and co n trive s extre m e ly su b tle d efinitions fo r each. D arcu s S u lliv a n
(19 8 8 ) and C a sw e ll (19 9 0 ) restrict them selves to a sin gle nou n , φ ρ ό ςς and
θυμός re sp e c tiv e ly , and perh ap s lim it th em selves as a result.
11 M a n y o f the e a rlie r studies o f H o m e ric p sych o lo gy (e.g. H alkh art (17 9 6 ),
H c lb ig (18 4 0 ), S c h ra d e r ( 18 8 5 ) ) aim ed to id en tify differen ces in m eaning
b etw een the nou n s in the θυμός fam ily: fo r su m m ary sketches sec Ja h n (19 8 7 ),
■ 2 4 - 8 1 . B ö h m e (19 2 9 ) w as the last fu ll stu d y o f this kin d; he so u gh t 10 assign a
p a rticu la r sp ecies o f em otional and in tellectual activity to each o f the m em bers
o f the fa m ily (3 7 - 8 7 ), and con cluded that H o m er has no sen se o f a p sy ch ic
w h o le (G esam lgem iit) because they all exist and act sep arately.
 M ental L ife and the Hotly 6;
thought or micccsMÏon «if thought» is never expressed in lerm a
o f a com plex rclntionahip lid ween th em .11*13 H om eric mini can
change his m ind in the coil rue o f 11 Hinkle Noliloipiy, nod lie nnd
his θυμός nuiy w nver between nltcmntivcH, hut rhnnffing or
conflicting thoughts nre n ever mtsigned to separate mental
centres, θυμός (for exam ple) m ay he iv ατήθιοοι, νόυς m ay he
iv Ουμώι, thought m ay be carried out κητιί φρίνα και κητιι θυμόν
(I. ι·33· etc.), or η single thought m ay be róvSt νόον κηι θυμόν
(iV. 3 °0 ); but licre the nouns are co-ordm ntcd rather than
contrasted, nnd the m ental apparatus acts ns a jin g le u n it.13
Likew ise a sudden change o f m ind m ay be ίτιρος . . . θυμός
(ix. 30a); one gives a gift w illin gly but w ith an un w illin g m ental
apparatus, (καιν άίκοντί ye Ουμώι (iv. 43), and a m an can listen to
his own θυμός and then disagree with it ;14 but such change is
never produced by a conflict between θυμός and som e other
part o f the mental anatom y.
T h is is driven hom e by the w ay H o m er d escribes decision ­
making. W hen tw o sim ultan eous thoughts or ideas arc in
conflict, the im age is one o f tw ofold d ivisio n , δίχα, w ithin a
single θυμός, ητορ, or κραδίη. Z e u s d escribes h im self w avering
between two courses o f action, διχθά St μοι κραδίη μίμονι φρισιν
όρμαίνοντι (χ ν ι. 4 35), and w hen N esto r pon ders ind ecisively
there is tw ofold d ivision in the place w here his thought goes on,
ώρμαινι δαϊζόμινος «-ατά θυμόν | διχθάδια (XIV. 20—ΐ). S im ila rly
the mental apparatus thinks d o u b ly, iv Sé oi ητορ | ατηθιασιν
λασίοισι Βιάνδιχα μ(ρμήριξ(ν (ι. ι 88 f; sim . xv i. 7 3 . xxti. 3 3 3 ), and

11 T h e nearest ap p roach to su ch an o p p o sitio n that I can find is in H e len 's

description o f her ow n feelin gs: αύτάρ Ιμ ό v κήρ \ χα ΐρ\ in t i η&η μ οι κραθϊη
τίτρα ντο vitoOai (iv. 2 5 9 -6 0 ). In fact, h o w e v e r, it is v e ry d o u b tfu l w h ether the
functions o f κήρ and κρα&ϊη are o p p o sed to each oth er: sin ce w hat is described
is a sin gle harm on iou s m o vem en t fro m d ecision to resultant happin ess, it
seem s rather that the sam e m ental act o r ap p aratu s is g ive n tw o slig h tly
different nam es in su ccessio n . O th erw ise , the o n ly approach es to such
oppositions lie outside the θυμός fa m ily p ro p e r, as the fo llo w in g : άλλα r< of
ßp άοαωι· re voos. λι-πτή h i rt μ ή τ ις (o f a m an w ho m u st think on h is ow n , x . 2 26 );
Kpaim onpos μ*ν γάρ re root, Χιιττή Sc τ ι μ ή τις (o f a yo u n g m an ’ s rashness,
XXIII. 590).
C f. Ja h n (19 8 7 : 1 8), w h o d ra w s u p an in terestin g, if v e ry sch em atic,
diagram arran g in g σ τή θ ια , φ ρ ίνις, θυμός, κήρ, κρα&ϊη, and ητορ in con centric
circles.
14 β·8· XI· 4 ° 7 = XV||. 97 = XXI. 5<>2 = XXU. 1 2 2 = 38 5 .
66 The Language of Thought and Life
the is broken up: ω ς κ α ί ί μ ο ι S i \ a θ υ μ ό ς o p iis p c ra t rvfla κ α ι
θυμός
it Όα(xix. 524)· In each o f these instances the thoughts in
question urc then listed in sequence, linked by η . . . -η
connected thoughts follow a linear progression, and there is no
sense in which diderent thoughts or im pulses arc assigned to
several centres or organs distinguished b y d iderin g names.

Mental agents and functions are one

W hat, then, are these things that form the mental apparatus?
E vid en tly θυμός and the others are w ithin the boundaries o f the
body— they arc iv&oOt (c.g. 1. 243) or ό·δοι< (c.g. xi. 337)— and
their processes are those that would nowadays be assigned to
the m ind: thought, em otion, self-aw areness, w ill. I f that is so,
docs it not follow that in sonte plain sense they are the mental
core o f m an? In H om eric language as in any other there is
naturally a distin ction between the thinker and what he thinks.
'I ' m ust be dideren t from som ething that can be called one’s
ow n, φίλον ητορ (v. 364; i. 60, etc.) or φίλος θυμός (X I. 4° 7i
xiii. 40) or φίλον xrjp (1. 4 9 1; i. 3 4 1 ) .16 ttSos is opposed to φρίΐίς
(e.g. in . 4 4 -5 ; iv. 264, xi. 3 3 7 , xvii. 454) or φυή to φρίνΐς (sec
15 O n tlie linear p ro gressio n o f thought in sequences like these see A r e n J
(> 9 33). 1 0 6 - 1 5 ; V o ig t ( 19 3 4 ) . passim , with fu ll collections o f passages; Sn ell
(19 7 8 ), 8 2 - 3 . A d k in s ( 19 7 0 : 2 3 ). fo llow s S n e ll on the point that the pattern
w ith μςρμήρ,ξς allow s o n ly a straight sequence o f altern atives, w hile m ore
com p lex d e cisio n -m ak in g is liable to be ren dered in term s o f divine inter­
ven tion. ,
'* In the m ean in g o f φίλος it is ve ry d ifficu lt to disentangle the idea o f
affection from that o f m ere o w n ersh ip . T h o se tw o things seem to be
in e xtricab ly united in H o m e ric thought: for exam p le, follow A ch illes- train
o f thought w h en he e x p la in s w h y he loved U riseis: 'ju st as any sound man
lo v es and cares for the w o m an w ho is h is ow n (τη ν αϋτον φ ιλ ίίΐ καί τη δίτα ι), so I
lo v ed (4 i'Acoi‘) h er. sp e ar-w o n though she w a s’ (tx. 3 4 1 - 3 ) · A chilles point is
that possession and alTcction im p ly each other— in a n u tshell, one φ ιλ ί,ι what
is φίλον. A great deal has been w ritten ab out this w o rd . M ost recently,
D . R o b in so n (19 9 0 ) arg u e s that H o m eric φίλος is alw ays affectionate rather
than m e re ly p o sse ssiv e and su ggests that φίλον ητορ. φίλα yoiVora and the like
arc found esp ecially often in con texts w here life is threatened. H e h olds that in
m on o lo gu es like those qu oted in these pages, θυμός is personified as a friend.
S u c h an in terp retation m ay be going too far: com pare H ooker (19 8 7 ). arguing
that the p o sse ssiv e and affection ate senses need not be sh a rp ly distinguished
in the first place; and see also h an d fe ste r (.9 6 6 : ,3 - 3 4 ) . p lo m n g distinctions
betw een φίλος as w hat is ow n ed , w hat is loved , and w hat is inalienable .
 Mental Life and the Body 67
esp. viii. 1G8—8 1), ju st as ϊργαν m ight be opposed to ίηος. T h e
most extrem e m anifestation o f this contrast comes when
Odysseus must strive to restrain his urge to rise up against
the suitors. His κραδίη groans or grow ls, ύλάκτα, like a bitch
defending her whelps from attackers, and the hero’s mental
apparatus is virtually personified as he urges it to endure as it
did in Polyphem us' cave:
τ/τΛαΟι δτ), κραδit)· καί κύντfpov άλλο ττοτ* ΐτ λης
τ}ματι τοη ότ< μοι μίνας ααχίτος rjaOic Κύκλοίψ
iφΟίμους i τάρονς’ σν δ' ίτόλμας, δψρα ac μήτις-^
ίζάγαγ* ίζ άντροιο όϊόμςνον OavccaOai. (χχ. ΐ 8—2ΐ)
T he hero seizes what is in his breast, and as he writhes to and
fro it remains steadfast:
ώϊ fifta r’, iv οτήθ(θαι καΟαπτόμινος φίλον ητορ-
τοη hi μάλ' iv neioyjt κραδίη nivr T(τλτ}υίίϊ
ναόΛ<μcuj9* ατάρ αντος ίλιααντο ΐνΟα και ίνΟα. (ΧΧ. 22—4)
How does the man him self—aiïros— relate to ητορ or κραδίη
here? I f ητορ or κρα&ίη is what endures and thinks, if it is what
escaped from Polyphem us' den, then it sounds very like a
psychic self, a 'ghost in the m ach in e'.17 T h e im pression is
similar when the begrudger gives a gift w illingly but with an
unwilling mental apparatus, cku>>> αίκοντί yt θυμό.it (iv. 43).
Unless there is a simple dichotom y between body and spirit,
where does the thinker stand in relation to the apparatus in
renderings like these?
An answer to this problem lies a little further afield. T h e
most challenging exam ples o f introspection come when a
character moves along a train o f thought through an extended
dialogue with his mental apparatus. A hero in battle begins a
soliloquy by addressing his θυμός thus,
οχθήσας δ' άρα ti-rrt ττρός ΰν μιγαλijropa θυμόν, . . .
and goes on to describe his ideas as an address by his θυμός to
himself:

17 C f. G ill (19 9 6 ), 18 3 -9 0 .
" So liloqu ies arc a rra n « « ! in this w ay at x i. 4 0 3 - 1 1 , x v u . 9 0 - 10 5 ,
 The Language nf Thought and Life
A s D odds b old ly puts it, θυμός acts here with nn 'independent
inner voice’ .19 H ow ever, the most rem arkable thing about the
‘ inner voice' is that in a single train o f thought it begins ns an
address b y the m an to the θυμός, but as his thoughts develop he
secs them going in the opposite direction from the θυμός to
h im self.20 H ow can this m ake sense? H ere we can build on D . B.
C la u s’ s21 useful observation that in H om er the entities in the
θυμός fam ily can stand both for that which thinks and for that
w hich is thought: ‘T h e ch ief emotional agents could not be
thought o f in H om er w ithout som e feeling that the “ life” o f a
m an was dependent upon their activities, and . . . intellectual
agents could not be im agined without a constant am biguity
w ith con textually determ ined “ thought'” .22 T h is point is vital.
T h e sem antic range o f each noun in the θυμός fam ily varies
betw een two poles: from actor to activity, from agent to
function, from the entity that thinks to the thoughts or
em otions that arc its products. N o r is there any g u lf between
those tw o :22 the range is fluid and continuous from one extrem e
to the other, and every stage along the w ay is represented. T h is
w ill prove crucial for m y final argument. T ak in g the first six
books o f the Ilia d as our sam ple, we will now trace the range of
w ays in w hich the entities in the group relate to mental
X X I . 5 5 2 - 7 0 , X X I I . 9 8 - 13 0 . O n the psych ological and lin guistic patterns sc*
esp . S c u lly (19 8 4 ); and m ore gen erally F en ik (19 68 ). 9 6 -8 , 16 3 - 5 ; (19 786),
6 S -9 0 ; and fo r som e fu rth er psych ological points see S h arp ies (19 8 3).
19 ( 19 5 * ) . ' 6 - 1 7 ; cf. R u sso and S im o n (19 6 8 ), 4 2 -8 ; also the acute
d iscu ssion b y B u rn ett ( 19 9 1) .
30 In n er deb ate o f this kind is not to be con fused w ith d ecision-m aking of
the διάν&ιχα μ ιρ μ ή ρ ιζ ίν type (sec ab ove, n. 15 ) , w here the relationship betw een
'Γ nnd θνμής or φρίν*ς is constant.
11 C la u s ( 1 9 8 1 ) , ch. X. C la u s 's overall argum ent is otherw ise v e ry different
fro m m in e (sec ab ove, C h . 2 n. 37).
21 C la u s ( 1 9 8 1 ) . 16 . F o r the b rid gin g o f the gap betw een agency and
fu n ctio n , sec also S n e ll (19 5 3 ) , 15 . F o r detailed exposition s o f the attested
e xam p les see a lso D arcu s (19 7 9 6 ) fo r Φρήι·, D areus (19 8 0 ) fo r i-óor, D areus
S u lliv a n (19 8 0 , 19 8 1) for θυμός, D arcu s S u lliv a n (19 8 7 ) fo r ο ρ α ν ίδ ις, and
D a rc u s S u lliv a n (19 8 8 ), 3 7 - 1 7 5 f ° r Φ ρψ'/φρίνις.
22 It is perh ap s a p ity that C la u s goes on to fit the psychological entities into
n rigid d ivisio n o f categories, fo rcin g each instance to b e taken either as nn
agent or as a fu n ction . A s I nrRuc in this chapter, it m akes better sense to
co llap se the distinction betw een concrete and abstract, so that the distinction
betw een life-fo rces and organs ceases to be relevant. T h is is enough to do
aw ay w ith m an y o f the com p lexities o f C la u s 's analysis.
 M ental L ife and the Body fit)
aclivities: som etim es they think, som etim es man thinks in, by,
with, or through them , and som etim es they stand for the
resultant thought itself. In this light it w ill be easier to un d er­
stand that in sequences o f extended introspection the locus o f
the psychological process seem s to sw in g startlin gly from one
pole to the other.

The sliding scale o f agency and function in Iliad I—vi

A t one extrem e the entity nam ed b y θυμός and tliy other nouns
behaves like an independent agent. It is tantam ount to the man
him self, so that it acts as a periph rasis for his nam e, Πυλαιμένεος
λάοιον κήρ (ii. 8 5 1). It desires to cat or drink, ττιέειν άτε θυμός
ανιΰγοι (tv. 26 3), sim ilarly ουδέ τι θυμός εδεύετο δαιτός είοης
(t. 4^8 = 1. 602 = ii. 4 3 1 )· It holds ideas or skills, θυμός ένί
οτηθεοσi φίλοιαι | tjitlo. δήνεα οΐάΐ (iv. 360—i ); one im agines it
as forgetting a thought or em otion, φαί-ην κε φρέν' άτέρπου όϊζύος
έκλελαθέσθαι (νι. 285); it carries out organized thought, εν δέ οι
ητορ I οτήθεσαιν λασίοισι διάνδιχα μερμήριξεν (i. 1 8S—θ)ϊ it desires
a particular course o f action, θυμός έπέσσνται όφρ’ έπαμύνιυ
(νι. 3^«; sim . i. 17 3 ) and a particular activity is dear to it,
φίλα φρεαί (i. 10 7). B y its own act it practises an em otion: it is
eager or hasty, μαίμηαε δε οΐ φίλον -ητορ (V . 670), and it floats or
swells unrestrainedly in arrogance, όπλοτέραιν άνδρών φρένες
ήερέθοιται (lit. 108).
A t a sligh tly reduced level o f independence, it is passively
subjected to em otional experience: it is filled w ith anger, μενεος
δε μέγα φρενες άμφί μελαιναι | ττίμττλαντο (ΐ. 10 3 —4)1 ar*d it is
struck or broken up by terror, κατεπλήγη φίλον ητορ (ill. 3 1 ) or
όρίνθη θυμός (v. 29). In like m anner it is penetrated or entered
by em otions and sen se-im pressions. G r ie f arrives at it, άλγος
ίκάνει I θυμόν εμόν (in . 9 7 -S ); a d ivin ity throw s an emotion into
it, Oca yAuKui- ίμερον έμβαλε Ουμΰιι (in . 13 8 ); passion envelops it,
έρως φρένας άμφεκάλυψεν (ιιι. 442); exhaustion goes around it,
πο'ΐΌί φρένας αμφιβέβηκεν (vi. 355); an insult bites it, δάκ« δε
φρένας Έ κτορι μύθος (ν. 493); one helps it by favourable acts, ή
tTiei ιυνηαας κραδίην Αιός ηέ καί έργωι (ΐ. 395)ί ηη arrow -w ound
hurts it, κηδε δε θυμόν (ν. 400).
Sim ilarly, the apparatus can be persuaded or m oved to
thought or em otion b y a person or god. T o encourage
70 The Language o f Thought and Life
people is to raise it up in them, ΤρωσΙν θυμόν iycipai (v. 5 10 ); a
goddess gives one an idea in it, τώι γάρ in i φρςαί θήκς Oca
(t. 55); another person persuades it o f som ething, τώι 6’ äpa
θυμόν ivi OTTfOcaoiv tnciOt (vi. 5 1 ; sim . IV. 104), or urges or
prom pts it, ότροΐ’ί μόνος και θυμόν ίκάστου (V. 47° =
V. 792 = VI. 72)- One vexes or disturbs it, θυμόν ivl oW)Ocaaiv
ópive ( μ . Ι 42 , III. 395. , ν · 2°8 ), or turns it in a new direction,
rpanc θυμόν Άθήνη (v. 676; sim . VI. 6 1) , or even takes it away
by m aking the person behave foolishly, Γλαυκαη Κρονίδης
φρίνας ίζ ίλ (τ ο Zcós (VI. 234)·
S o far, our instances have suggested that the psychological
ngent acts or suffers on its own, which could sim ply im ply that
it is tantam ount to the thinking person as a whole. H ow ever, it
can also im pel the person to a course o f action, αΰτώ»’ θυμός
inorpóvei καί avwyci (vi. 439; sim . VI. 444). It can drive him on
to rash action, as οΰ 0ijv μιν πάλιν auris ainjcei θυμός ayrjviup |
v t iK t lc i v βαοιλήας ( i i . 276—7), or to piety, ac S' evOaSe θυμός
avijKcv I , . . Δ ιΙ χ€ΐρας άναοχ€ΐν (vi. 256—7). T h ese last exam ples
seem to take the m ental apparatus as som ething that the person
ow ns and holds inside him self; and the name of the person
h im self often stands beside it in the dative or genitive ease. T h e
construction is com m on w hen its quality or character is
referred to, as w hen one w ishes another’s physical strength
w ere like his m ental strength,
<Γ0 ", ι ίι ς θ υ μ ό ς i v l ο τ ή θ ι σ σ ι φ ίλ ο ι ο ιν ,
ΰ ις τ ο ι γ ο ΰ ν α θ ' ίττο ιτο . (lV . 3 13—*4)

Often an exp ression on this pattern occurs with a descriptive

adjective, as w hen A gam em n on w ishes that there was a
particular kind o f m entality to (‘ possessed b y') everyone,
Ύοΐος πάσιν θυμός ivl ott)Ocooi ytvoiro (IV. 289). Likew ise one
accuses another o f cow ardice, ool δί κακός μίν θυμός [sc. torij
(v. 643), and H o m er im agines how it w ould be if he had a heart
o f brass, [ri] . . . μοι ητορ cmhj (ii. 4 9 °. sim . ill. 60),
likew ise there is no secure m ental apparatus in a fool, τοντωι δ
o u t ’ άρ νΰν φρίνΐς cpntSoi ο ΰ τ ' άρ' όπίσοω | «σσοιται (VI. 352—3)·
S im ila rly the m ental apparatus of kings is large, θυμός 8ί μίγας
i o T l 6ιοτρίφίιυν βαοιληιυν (ll. 19b). It is in the sam e w ay that a
person can be d escribed as som ething like ‘greathearted ,
μ(γαλήτωρ (ll. 547, 6 4 1, V. 468, 674, 78 5. VI. 28 3, 395).
 M ental L ije and the Body 7«

Again, the person can be said to hold or possess the m ental

apparatus or the experience o f thought: τόνδε νόον καί θυμόν ενι
στήθεσσιV έχοντες ( i V . 309) ΟΓ τλήμονα θυμόν εχιυν (ν. (>7° ) ΟΓ
θυμόν εχιυν Sv καρτεράν, ώ ί το πόρος περ (ν. 8ο6). A chilles says a
coward has the mental stu ff o f a hind— κυνός όμματ' εχιυν,
κραδίην δ* ελόφοιο (ι. 225)· T h e apparatus is subordinated to
the person still m ore decisively when he experiences an
emotion by doing som ething to it. He puts an em otion in it,
χάλοκ τόνδ’ ίνθεο Ουμώι (vi. 326); he aflhcts it with grief, ένδυθι
θυμόν άμνξεις (i. 243); lie represses it in self-control, χόλον
παύσειεν έρητύαειέ re θυμόν (l. 19 2) or έπιγνάμφααα φίλον κήρ
(I. 569); by adopting a mood o f courage he picks it up, a s
άλκιμον ητορ έλεαθε (ν. 529).
A t the next stage, the mental apparatus loses its autonom y:
the personal agent thinks or feels in his own right and the
apparatus’s name is used to q ualify or localize the action. H e is
angry, μόλα θυμόν . . . χολιΰθη (iV. 494) ΟΓ χιυόμενος Krjp (l. 44) 1 or
grieved, άκηχεμένη φίλον ητορ (ν. 364) and κήρ άχέων (ν. 399)!
and hurtful w ords are experienced in the sam e w ay, as when
Paris tells Helen not to assail him with insults, μή με . . .
χαλίττοΓοίν öi'ftöioi θυμόν ένιπτε (lil. 43®)· T h e pattern is the
same when an em otion arrives to the person in or at or w ith
respect to the apparatus, constructed w ith a double accusative.
T h u s grief comes, μιν άχος κραδίην και θυμόν ΐκανεν (ΐΐ. 17*)«
likewise sorrow , τ ί δέ σε φρένας Γκ«το πένθος; (ΐ. 362) and jo y ,
χαρεΐη δε φρένα μήτηρ (V I. 4 ^ 0 or ό δε φρένα τέρπετ' ακούουν
(’ · 474) or sim ply γΊ/θόσυνος κήρ (ιν. 27 2 = 3 20 ).24 In the sam e
way when a deity impels m ortals to valo u r she rouses strength
for each o f them with regard to his heart, εν δε σθένος ιυραεν
ένόστιυι | καρδίτ]ι (ll. 4 5 , —2)·
\Vc reach a further degree o f the sam e subordination when
the person thinks or feels em otion in or through or along the
apparatus, usually with the preposition κατά. In this w ay
Hom er renders anger, χιυομενον «ατά θυμόν (ι. 429); fear,
δείδοικα κατά φρένα (l. 555)'. pondering, τά φρονέοντ' άνά θυμόν
(ΐΐ. 36) or μερμηριξε . . . κατά φρένα και κατά θυμόν (ν. 6 7 1) or
ταύθ' ώρμαινε . . . κατά φρένα και κατά θυμόν (ΐ. 19 3 )· In this w ay a
14 Similarly one woman is compared 10 another ‘ in respect o f ’ her mental
and physical qualities: οΰ έβέν i a r i x<p<!wv | . . . ο ΰ τ' ap φρένας ούτε τ ι έργα
(ι. 1 14- 15).
72 The Language o f Thought and Life
decision m anifests itself, ijSe Be οί κατά θυμόν άρίοτη ^acVe-ro
βουλή (π . 5). and one apprehends knowledge, gi5re γάρ κατά
θυμόν (ll. 409) or τάδί οιδα κατά φρένα και *ατά θυμόν (ΐν. 16 3,
v i. 447) ΟΓ τ° οίδ« κατά φρένα (v. 406). C on versely, one who is
ignored or disliked is excluded from the mental process, αϊτό
θυμού I μάλλον ίμοi t o t a l (l. 562—3).
N e x t, the person acts independently with the mental entity
in the d ative case, as the location or instrum ent o f his thought.
T h is is especially so with affective or reactive em otions: one
offers love through the apparatus, θυμώι φιλίουσά τ« κηΒομίνη re
(i. ig 6 = i. 209), or accords honour, μοι πιρι κήρι τιέακίτο Ίλιος
ΐρή (ιν. 46)i5 or en m ity, τοι άπίχθιυνται [sc. certain cities] -rrepi
κήρι (iv, 53). S im ila rly one is angry, θυμώι κιχολιυμίνον (i. 2 17 ;
cf. II. 2 4 1) , and one rejoices, άλλοι τ t Τρώις μέγα Ktv κιχαροΐατο
θυμώι (ι. 256); a gift is given unw illingly, άέκοντί yt θυμώι
(ιν . 4 3); and in the sam e w ay one grieves, μη. . . λίην άκαχίζιο
θυμώι (ν ι. 486), or feels reverently abashed, σιβάσοατο γάρ τό yt
θυμώι (VI. I f»7· 4 ! 7). or holds m iseries, ϊχιυ δ’ ό χ ι’ άκριτα θυμώι
(III. 4 *2)·
K n o w led g e and cognitive activity take place in the same way,
in or b y m eans o f the apparatus. One plots evil there, κ α κ ά
μτ/οατο θυμώι (νι. 1 57), or holds thought or disposition, φρ<οiv
. . . ηιάη (v. 326), or conceals knowledge, σύ σήισιν <χΐ φρισίν
(π . 3 3 . 70); and T h e rsite s keeps unpleasant thoughts or sayings
in the apparatus, into fptoiv ήιαιν άκοσμό τ< πολλά τ ι ήιόη
(ii. 2 13 ) . S im ila rly spirit or determ ination arises in or through
the ap paratu s, μιτά φριαι ylyvtrai άλκη (ιν. 245); one who is
yearn in g or raging is θυμώι μιμαώς (v. 13 5 ) or ολοιήιοι fpcai Ovti
(1. 342); one dares or endures to do som ething by means o f the
ap paratu s, oi're λόχονΒ’ it ναι . . . | τιτληκας θυμώι (l. 2 2 7 —8).
A t the final extrem e, the apparatus can sim ply be the place
within w hich the person does his thinking or feeling. M artial
sp irit lodges there, as in the phrase ούκ to n βίη φρισ'ιν oÓrt τις
άλκή (lil. 45); it is there that one one feels spite, κοτίοντο
νίμίσσηθίν τ ’ ivi θυμώι (ll. 223), or fu n ', iv θυμώι μΐμαώτίς
(u i. 9); likew ise one ponders, σύ δ ’ iv φρΐσί βάλλΐο σήιοι
(i. 297 = IV. 30 = ν · 259). or knows som ething in the apparatus,
tyvui ηιοιν ivi φρ€αί (l. 333; sim . II. 3° 0 ·

29 I take rrepi as an ad verb rath er than a preposition here.

 M ental L ife and the Body 73
In this w ay the range between agency and function turns out
to he smooth and continuous. T h e entity represented by the
nouns in the θυμός fam ily stands in no fixed relationship with
the human being, since it is som etim es the source o f thought,
sometimes its m ode or instrum ent, and som etim es m erely the
locus o f the thought-process. It is this fluid definition which
enables states o f indecision to be im agined where the situation
nioves from man addressin g θυμός to θυμός addressing man,
or— as in the Odyssey passages quoted above— w here the urge
of the θυμός and the action o f the bodily se lf are contrasted with
each other. G iven this continuum between agency and fu n c­
tion, it w ould be m isleading to take those passages in isolation
as illustrating a perm anent dichotom y between θυμός as ‘m in d ’
and αυτός as ‘b o d y’ . H o m er’s language does not allow us to
distinguish w hether they arc the agents, the instrum ents, or the
results o f those processes. A lthou gh from a m odern point o f
view there m ay be an easy distinction between psychological
agents and psychological functions, betw een that w hich thinks
and that which is thought, we cannot read ily ap p ly that d is­
tinction to H om er. O ur final response to this problem belongs
later, but for the present it w ill serve to w arn us from ap plyin g
any easy translation-w ord like ‘m in d ’ or ‘h eart’ to explain the
area covered by our nouns. L ik e those w ords they name
something that is inside the body, but its life is not like the
abstract autonom ous life that a language like E n glish gives to
the mind.

Mental life is in the breast

The next, and cru cial, aspect o f this psychological system is
that it has nothing to do with the head or the brain. T h e head,
κ(φαλή or κόρη or κάρηνο%>, is a sign o f life and identity,
especially from another person’s point o f v ie w ,26 but the seat
of thought and consciousness is the upper torso: the θυμός is in
the breast, cv στ-ηθςσοι, and when an act o f thought is described
the words tv στήθισσι are equivalen t to èv θυμώι or ivl φρίσί·?'2
4

24 T h e m ain sign ifican ce o f the head is its sym b o lic association w ith life
threatened and life as op p osed to death , on w h ich sec C h . 6 nn . 2 9 -3 0 .
" Ja h n (19 8 7 ) d ocu m en ts this fu lly : see esp. th e tables on p p . 2 5 5 - 8 .
74 The Language of Thought and Life
i v Sc o» TjTop
α τ η θ *σ σ ιΐ' λ α α ίο ιο ι διάν& ίχα μ€ρ/ιτ?ρι£ο». (ΐ. 1 8 8 —9 )
»
H e thinks in his θυμός, his <f>ptvts, his ηιορ, he thinks in his
hairy chest.2,1 Y e t the intellectual processes undertaken there
arc the sam e as what we w ould assign to the m ind: thinking,
em otion, aw areness, reflection, will. I f these things arc in the
chest, so also arc the lungs and the heart and other things of
flesh and blood; and our most glaring problem is the relation­
ship between the two.
T h e cru x o f the problem is that when anatom y rather than
p sychology is in question, each o f φρήv, ητορ, κραύίη, κτ\ρ,
ττραniSes is the name o f a solid physical part of the body.
T h is is best illustrated when w arriors are cut open in the
m ayhem o f battle: a m an is wounded or pierced in the ητοp,
his φρίνΐs arc cut open through a w ound, a spear pierces his
κρα&ίη, his φρίνις slip out o f a gash in his torso, another is struck
in the liver below the npaniScs, another is pierced in the place
‘ w here the φρίνίς are enclosed around the dense κήρ'
(xv i. 4 8 1) .29 T h e re is an interesting reflex o f this in the
fam ous passage w here A ch illes tries to em brace the ghost of
Patroclus and finds that he cannot touch it:
ω ττόττοι, η pu τ / ϊ ίσ τ ι κ α ί t iv τΊίδαο δο μ οιοιν
ιiuv-n κ α ί ίΐδ ω λ ο ν . ά τα ρ φ ρ ίν ις ούκ <ι·ι -πάμτται·. (Χ Χ ΙΙΙ. 1 0 3 - 4 )

W hat he has realized is not that the ghost had no mind or

w its— what it said w as very lucid— but that there was no
physical substance in the breast when he flung his arms
around it.30
” λάσιοι· o b v io u sly refers to the visib le breast as shaRRy or hairy (cf.
XXIV. 1 2 5 ; ix . 4 3 3 ). N o te also the cu riou s Γ7υλαιμό'«οί λάσιοι· κήρ (II. » S ii
sim . XVI. 5 5 4 ). a p erip h rasis o f the proper nam e o f the sam e kind as κρη ir
7’τιΛ«μ.άχοιο and sim ilar (on w h ich see csp. b elo w , p p . 1 1 0 - 1 5 ) .
” T h e cle a r cases o f this arc co n ven ien tly collected b y Jo h n (19 8 7). 9- i o :
see also Ire lan d and Ste e l ( . 97S)· B rie lly : a m an is pjerced . β , β λ α μ μ ^ . in
h is ,]top (XVI. 660) and another is δ<δαΙ*μ«Υοι· in h is ητορ (x v n . 535); «
stru ck Μ · άμα rc ίρ χ α τα ί άμφ ’ κήρ (XV,. Λ « .); a spear I» pulled
out fro m o w o u n d , nporl Si φρ<Ή αοταιι cttoito (X \l. 5° 4). 8 spear pier
m an 's κ ,α δό , (XIU. 442): 8 "ta n * «* h,$ ^ Ύ * ; 9l
(XI. 5 7 9 = XIU. 4 , 2 = x v n . 349); 8 foe cou ld be stru ck opor σττ,θας. off.

* * ! — - * » * »> A risto p h an es. A n o ,he,

 M enial Life and the Body 75
If that were all, one might think it enough to say that each of
the w ords in the θυμόs fam ily has 'two m eanings', a part o f the
body or a part o f the mind, so that the psychological uses are
somehow ‘m etaphorical’— the English word 'heart' makes for a
suitably trivial analogy. But the H om eric facts cannot be tamed
in that way. T h e foundations o f an understanding o f the θυμός
family were laid by R. B. O nians:l with his brilliantly im aginat­
ive insight that the φρήν/φρ(ν€ς arc the lungs, the θυμός is the air
breathed into them, while each o f ητορ, πραττίδίς, κραδίη, κήρ are
specific organs in the chest. T h e pivot o f the theory is that the
ongoing process o f thought is conceived of as if it were
precisely identified with the palpable inhalation o f breath and
the half-im agined m ingling o f breath with blood and bodily
fiuids in the soft, warm , flowing substances that make up what
is behind the chest wall. If this is right, the life o f the organs in
the chest is exactly the same thing as what we would call the life
o f the mind; and it follows naturally that the organs o f thought
can be seen and touched when the body is pierced.
It is not hard to see why classical scholars have nearly always
treated O nians’s theory with suspicion or downright scorn. B y
imposing stark anatomical translations— lungs, blood, chest
wall— he seemed to reduce Hom eric psychology to something
grotesque. T ake one of the dramatic moments o f the Iliad,
when Agamem non first rises up in rage:
το ίσ ι δ ' a v é c n j
Ί/ριυς Ά τ ρ ί ΐοης tv p v κρ<ιιυι· A y a p e p irων
α χ ν ύ μ ΐν ο ς , μ»i co? ϋ( μ ί γ a tipevey άμ<*ιί μ ίλ α ιν α ι
τημττΑηιτ*, öaae S i ο ! ττυρι S a p n e τοαιντι ίΐκ τ η ν . ( ΐ. 1 0 1 —4)

With Onians the underlined words ought to mean that ‘ his

lungs were filled and darkened by blood'. So translated, the
explanation of the apparent mm sequitur was the tradition that the dead ure
tncanabie o f thought, w hich is referred to several tim es in the N cku ia o f the
Odyssey. But this tradition is one that appears and disappears even w ith in the
Neltuia itself, and it plays no part w hatever in Patroclus' gh ost's dealings with
Achilles, so that it w ould be v e ry weak as an explanation o f the present
passage. S ee R ichardson ad loc., w ith refs, to scholia, and C h . 6 b elow ,
pp. 2 0 6 -7.
11 O m an ! ( 1 9 5 1) , 13 - 8 3 and passim. 'H ie problem is also touched on by
Böhme (11329), but w ith the bodily and psychological identity o f each noun
firmly separated from each other (sec esp. 19 - 3 6 ) .
 7fi The Language o f Thought and L ife
w ords sound crude and prim itive, im possible to square with
the reader’s intuition that H om er’s portrayal o f the king’s
mental state is deep and subtle and sophisticated. T h e theory
w ould have us believe that the psychological subtleties of
A gam em n on ’s changing moods are purely and sim ply the
m ovem ent o f breath and oozing liquids— the very substances,
in fact, that A chilles would see if he sliced the king open with
his sw o rd . Like m any o f his generation Onians was captivated
by the idea that ancient ideas could be illuminated by the study
o f m odern non-W estern cultures, but that enterprise came to
g rie f when classical scholars like him chose to tlraw on theories
o f 'prim itive thought' and the ‘ prclogica! m entality’ that made
the peoples studied seem naïve or ab surd .11 In this case, Onians
glad ly assum ed that the early G reeks resem bled the ‘ prim i­
tives’ o f arm chair anthropology in that they were unable to
think in term s o f abstract ideas or figurative language. 1
D espite the rigour and subtlety o f his reading o f the Greek
evidence, he was foolish or hum ble enough to let it be
influenced by half-understood analyses o f people he had
never met, obscurum per obscurius, so that H om er’s language
was forced into a strait-jacket o f brutally literal interpretation.
T h is m eans that although in what follows I will draw greatly
on O nian s’s insights, I w ill also try to address the nagging
question: docs H om er imagine a ‘ m ind’ which is no more a part
o f the body than what we today think o f as the organs o f the
upp er torso? I f Ρνμός is precisely what our language calls breath
in the lungs, as O nians supposed, then how could it make sense
for H om er to describe it behaving os an autonom ous agent of 32

32 O ninns ( 19 5 O ackn ow ledges the inllence o f L c v y -H m h l's theory o f the

p rim itiv e or prelogical m entality in its e arly, crude form : see in particular
p . 19 . q u o tin g from the first edition o f 1-es Fonctiont mentales Ja n s let soeiétêi
in fir it u r e s .
33 ( 1 0 5 1 ) . S t : 'A t the singe o f thought at w hich these beliefs em erged, there
w as d ifficu lty in con ceiving anything except m aterial entities'. T h e other side
o f the coin is that O nians m ade no m ove to set aside the 0 priori assum ption
that the θυμοί fam ily act as a localized soul or m ind. C on sid er the categories of
h is first sentence: 'W hat is the nature o f the m ind? W hat are its processes?
W hat is the soul? . . . T h is book began in an attem pt to discover the earliest
an sw ers o f the G ree k s and the R om ans to these fundam ental question s, the
b eliefs w hich for centuries satisfied their m inds und governed their actions'
(ib id ., p . xi).
 M ental Life and the Body 77
thought and em otion? W c w ill see that this sim ple one-to-one
identification is less than the whole truth, since the relationship
between the bodily and mental identity o f these entities is
subtle and elusive, with no equivalent in either the psycho­
logical or the anatom ical language fam iliar today. Sim ilarly
rooy, which we w ill exam ine in detail in due course, is never
spoken o f as if it were a part o f the body, yet it is a product o f
the processes that go on in θυμός and the others. 4 Seein g that
Hom er’s psychological system allow s abstract ideas to arise
from entities w hich are w holly and solidly part o f φ ε body, it is
clear from the start that unless H om er's culture is naïve and
stupid— a supposition that I will never adm it— then this
psychology is not easily reducible to what wc can apprehend
on the basis o f our m odern understanding o f the physical
body.15
T h e 'concreteness o f the inn ards’ , in Ruth P ad cl’s phrase,
is confirmed in sevcrnl directions at once by H om er's w ords,
once we proceed from the m inim um hypothesis that θυμός is
breath inhaled deep into the lu n g s,17 anti ι/φήΐ’/ψρόι'ίς arc the
lungs them selves.111 T h ese basic identities arc unm istakable.
’ * S i t Oman» ( 1 9 5 1) , 8 2 - 3 ; Jithn (19 8 7 ), 46 and 4 6 - 1 1 8 fum inr, anil note
examples o f coos in I lie pattern o f e b b and flow discussed below .
” C om pare A u stin ( 19 7 s : 1 0 3 - 1 3 ) , w ho denies com pletely that θυμός is ever
identifiable with a p a n o f the b od y, on the m ou n d s that it is 'too versatile* in
its role and behaviour. C f. also V ivonto (19 5 6 ), 1 1 3 - ϊ ο .
"■ (lo o s), csp. ch .2. In I’ ad cl's w ork on concepts o f 'in n e r' and 'o u te r' in
tragedy, one o f the central them es is the need to approach the language o f
psychological life b y setting aside m odern distinctions betw een literal und
metaphorical and betw een b o d y and sp irit. T o time exten t her approach bus
much in com m on with mine here. H o w ev e r, she approaches the language o f
Homer and that o f the tragic poets as one, on the ground s that 'T ra g e d y 's
language o f con sciousn ess rests on H o m e r' (18 ). T h is m eans that m uch o f the
imagery she discusses is not relevant to m y treatm ent here, since in fact the
range o f psychological m etaphor found in traged y is m uch m ore varied und
more figurative than the patterns recognizable in H om er. A full d iscussion o f
this problem w ould he out o f place here. O n the psychological im agery o f the
tragedians, sec also W ebster (19 5 7 ) ; S an so n c (19 7 5 ); and cf. H undley (19 5 6 )
on Aristophanes.
,T O m ans ( 1 9 5 1) , 4 4 - 6 1, esp. 50 ; H arriso n (iqfto); C asw ell (19 9 0 ), 1 6 - 2 1
and fuiismi; Pudel (19 9 2 ), 29—30 .
u O niafis ( 1 9 5 1 ) . 2 3 - 3 0 ; sec niso D areu s S u lliv a n (toSK ), 7 -9 , a t - 9 . D arcus
Sullivan u se fu lly su rve ys curlier theories id en tifyin g φ/dvtt w ith lungs,
diaphragm , and p e ricard iu m , hut d raw s a sharp distinction betw een the
78 The Language o f Thought ami L ife
O dysseus lies breathless w ith exhaustion, am’cuaros καί άναυδο?,
then recovers his breath: άμπνυτο καί es φρίνα θυμός άγίρθη
(ν. 458; sim . IV . 15 2 , X X I I . 475. x x iv . 349). and he >s Ουμηγίρίιον
(νϋ. 283), that is he inhales and gathers breath into his lungs,
ju st as in the opposite event an exhausted man has little breath,
JAi'yos . . . θυμός ivyjev (t. 593), w hile a dyin g man exhales it in a
final groan, θυμόν ά»οθί και rjpuytv (xx. 403) or breathes it out,
θυμόν anonvtiun· (iv. 524); sim ilarly one groans with a deep
breath, μίγα δί ortvαχϊζίτο Ουμtüi (v il. 9 5).3'' N ow θυμός is tvi
<[>pfaiv as w ell as m ore vagu ely tv στήθίοαι, and m any epithets of
θυμός are them selves com pounds in -φρων *0 sim ilarly, θυμός is
often the sub ject o f an active verb o f thinking, w hile φρίνίς
n ever are. W hen a man thinks, therefore, θυμός m ay be the
active agent,·" but φρίνίς arc the place or instrum ent in which
such thought is carried out.·** A ll this makes sense if θυμός is
breath w hich is held in φρίνίς when thought goes on. T h e
φρίνίς them selves arc in the chest, err/Ora; they m ust be in front
o f the μίτάφρινον, which is eviden tly the back o f the torso (sec
I I . 26 5, v. 56, etc.); they are indeterm inately singular or plural,
φρήν or φρίνίς, and θυμός can ‘ blow in two w ays’ in them , διχα . . .
tvl φρίοί θυμός ürjro (χχι. 386). W hen a man groans, άνίστο’άχ-
ίζ ί, and exp els breath from his m outh the φρίνίς shake,
τρομίοντο St οΐ φρίνίς ίντός (x. 9 - 1o). T h e apparatus o f breath­
ing fits the language exactly; and the fact that when a man is cut
open the φρίνίς but not the θυμός can be seen accords well with
the fact that the breath w ould be gasped out at that moment.
b o d ily and the p sych o lo gical m ean in g. R a th e r than assigning specific bodily
m ean in gs to θυμός and φ ρ ίνίς, she p re fe rs llic vag u er label ‘ indefinitely
c o rp o re al1. S im ila r ly Irelan d and Steel ( 19 7 5 ) id en tify θυμός and the others
in term s o f the p h ysio lo g y o f the chest in less precise term s than O nions. Sn ell
(19 7 8 : csp . 5 3 -6 0 ), arg u es clo se ly again st a sharp distinction betw een the
an atom ical and p sych ological id en tity o f φ ρ ίι*<ϊ. C f. C h an train c, s .v . φρν,ν, with
refs, to e a rlie r theories.
Ig O nce one fo rgets woolly' E n g lish e xp ressio n s like to groan in spirit ,
these w o rd s arc untranslatable un less θυμός is d ie sou rce or essence of the
gasp in g . C o m p a re ό\οφύρ<τα> iv φ ρία! θυμός ( ν ιιι. 2 0 2 ; sim . χ ν ι. 45° . ,6 9).
w h ere the m ental apparatu s is the agent o f the gasp.
4U T h e s e ep ith ets arc u sefu lly collected b y D areu s (19 7 7 )·
41 O n th is asp ect o f θυμός, see csp . C h e y n s ( 19 8 1) , esp. 14 0 , C h ey n s (19 8 3),
Pudel (19 9 2 ), 2 7 - 9 .
41 O n this aspect o f φ ρ ίνίς. see csp. S n e ll (19 7 8 ). 53* 4; D areus S u llivan
(■ 9 88), 7 1 - 1 1 2 .
 M ental L ife ami the Body 79

A s we try to picture what goes on inside the breast, there is

little to be gained by assigning precise anatom ical identities to
each o f κήρ, κραδίη, ήτορ, -npaniSes. P rob ab ly the κήρ is the heart,
since the φρόνις arc w rapped around it (xvi. 4 8 1), and the
cognate word κραδίιj presum ably names the sam e o r a kindred
organ;43 the ήτορ m ust be som ehow connected to the θυμός if
the phrase μιγαλήτopa θυμόν is to be m ean in gful;44 and the
ττραπίΒΐς arc som ething that sits above the liv er.45 S u c h sp ec­
ulations can be m ultiplied, but they arc not our concern here.
Onians’s insight com bines well with Ja h n 's form ular an alysis if
we accept that since H om er docs not think in term s o f X -r a y s
and neat textbook diagram s, the organs o f the chest w ill
naturally be less sharply defined for him than for us, so that
the distinctions between different organs and processes w ill
necessarily seem blurred. T h e passages in w hich m en arc cut
open and their organs revealed are enough to show that each o f
these names corresponds to some physical organ, b ut in
psychological language it is difficult to distinguish between
them. T h u s although they arc the names o f separate b odily
parts, it is not illogical that when they refer to intangible
mental activity they are virtu ally synonym ous.

Mental life ebbs and flows as breath and fluids

Let us pursue the hypothesis that θυμός is breath d raw n into
the lungs. In origin the word corresponds exactly to L atin
fumus, Sanskrit dhuma-, and Lithuanian duma, ‘sm oke’ :46 and
although that etym ology is no index to its active m eaning in
Greek, it encourages the claim that θυμός is billow in g gaseous
breath. W ithin G reek, closely related w ords suggest m ore
clearly what sort o f phenomenon is involved. F irst, observe
■ ·' κήρ and κρ α ϋη are rcilexes o f a sin gle root, w h ich in p re h isto ric G re e k
mitiht have looked like « k fd -. T h e best in dication that the re feren t is the
anatomical heart is pro vid ed by cognates in oth er lan g u ages, as L a tin cor<d-),
Irish cride (see C hantraine s.v .).
O m ans ( 1 9 5 1 : H 1-2) holds that the ήτορ is a collection o f b lo o d -v e ssels
near the lu ngs, at least w hen the w o rd is not sim p ly a v irtu a l sy n o n y m o f Aptvts
and θυμός.
44 S ee Λ. 29 above,
• 1 m S iCe Chan1,ram e · s v - " ho “ ccepts the equation b u t s u rp risin g ly th in ks it
difficile pour Ic sens ; com pare R enehan ( l 9 7s). s.v . θυμός; L f g r E s.v . θυμός.
 So The Language o f Thought and L ife
Bv(v)iu, the verbal reflex o f the same ro o t/ 7 w hich denotes the
violent surging o f wind and water, air and fluid: a river rushes
along in sw ollen flood, irtiaavro οΐδματ« Ούun· (xxi. 234; sim .
324), likewise the sw ollen sea groans under the w inds, êartitv
οΐδματι θύων ( χ χ ι ι ι . 230 ; sim . xiii. 85); a w ind rushing in storm
is λαίλαττι Oiuiv (xii. 400, 408, 426), and the floor o f a room after
slau ghter is awash with blood, αίμα-« Ovtv (xi. 420, xx ii. 309,
x x iv . 1S 5 ). T h e w ord is further used o f a man who rushes about
in w ild fury, t o e (v. 250 , x i. 34 2 = xx . 4 1 2 , x x ii. 272; xxiv. 449,
etc.),·*8 and H om er says that such a one resem bles a flooding

47 H nrrison (i9 6 0 ) offers a b rillia n tly perceptive sketch o f this relationship.

S e e also C h an train e ( 19 3 3 : 1 3 2 —4), taking θνμόί from 0éo» as one o f the class o f
v e rb -b a se d action nou n s that is represented also b y such form s as Oujpclr/ri'flijgi,
χυμός/χ<ω . In te restin g ly, the parallel w ith San sk rit a n ili ‘ b low s’ suggests that
G r e e k ά νιμο ; m ay be fo rm ed in the sam e w ay. A fu rther group o f w ords built
on the sam e stem an sw e r in vario u s w ays to the idea o f producing sm oke,
v a p o u r, o r fragran ce. A ttested early arc the v e rb s 0iy«iάω, ‘ m ake to smoke" (first
in H ip p o n a x * 1 7 5 W ) and Ovato in the participle τ<θναιμ<νον, m eaning som e­
th in g like 'an o in ted , frag ran t’ (xtv . 17 2 ); the adjectives Ovótn (xv. 15 3 ). 0νώ 5η ;
(v . 264, e tc.), Ονήας (v u t. 4 «, χχιιι, 1 48. viii. 36 3). all re ferrin g to the rising o f
sm ells and the like into the a ir; and ab ove all the verb Oüui fo r o fferin g sacrifice.
T h is 0ι5ω is alread y w ell nttesled in I-lomcr (IX. 2 19 ; ix. 2 3 1 . etc.) with several
associated nouns, n o tab ly OiaOXa as instrum ents o f sacrificial ritual (v i. 13 4 )
and Ονηλή o r Ovos as the th in g b urn t in sacrifice (VI. 270 , ix . 2 20 . 499). Duns is
also attested ns a fragran t su b stan ce, (τύφω 'p ro d u ce sm oke’ , whose perfect
m id d le τ ίΰ ν μ μ α ι sh ow s that ih c present is * 0inf>w distorted b y G rassm an n 's law ,
se em s to be on the sam e h orizon .) W hen Ovio refers to sacrifice the offerin g is
a lw a y s b u rn t, and the d efining elem ent o f the ritual is the risin g-up o f the
sm oke: see csp . the clear ( if p o ssib ly p ost-1 lo m e n c) account at v m . 5*17—5^·
T h e sem an tic link betw een the m em bers o f this grou p, and betw een the group
as n w h o le and fliyio’r, b ecom e* irresistible w hen w e find βιομόί Ουψις ( v i i i . 48,
XX,I,. ,.,S ; v iii. 3 6 3 ), on ultiir from w h ich the sm oke o f sacrifice is raised, and
0».<5n· viteos (xv . I S 3 ), a b illo w in g clou d . S im ila rly Otior. w hich for H om er is
so m ethin g b urn t in sacrifice, is attested in L in e a r if for arom atic spices (tn-ive-
a , P y lo s LJnoS: see V e n tris-C h n d w ic k , pp. 2 2 3 -4 ) . A lth ou gh the m ovem ent o f
b illo w in g sm oke unites all these w ords, in the case o f the verb Oiu> itse lf it
rem ain s difficu lt 10 u n ite offer burnt sacrifice' and ’ su rge along' (or the like)
w ith in the am bit o f π sin gle lexem e w ith a sin gle range o f m eaning, so it seem s
that the tw o wot ils m ust be separate in practice in the I Inm eric vo cabu lary. All
w e need definitely con clude o f the w hole a rra y o f w ords is that they offer
h iiln iit t ll corrob oration for the argum ent that ΟνμΛι i* vap orou s, sm okclikc,
and b illo w in g .
'* I tin not know w hat sign ifican ce, if any. attaches to the appearance o f a
nasal in fix In the im perfect and once in the pieseu t im perative (v. 250); i f .
Itiscli (I9 7 4 ) , §90b.
 M ental L ife and the Body Si

river, θΰχ- t . . . ττοταμώι ττλήΟοι-τι tonal,; (v. S7). T h is is the bodily

movem ent o f the whole man: but A chilles describes a more
psychological m ovem ent when he says that the raging A g a ­
memnon surges along with a w ild mental apparatus in his
breast, oXoirjiai φρΐσί Oveι (i. 342). Sin ce what surges in these
φρΐν(ς is literally θυμός, here there is a perfect sem antic match
between verb and noun. L in ked to this in turn is the idea that
when a man is im pelled to action or decision, θυμός itself rushes
forward im petuously, ΐσσυται (x. 484) or ίττόσσυται (l. 17 3 ,
V I. 3 6 1, IX . 42, 398). W e are now able to m ove,on from our
first, clum sy equation o f θυμός with sm oky billow ing breath: it
is specifically breath that is vigorous, active, self-propelling,
with the strong sw ift m ovem ent that m arks the actions o f both
warrior and thinker.
T h e idea o f violent w in d y-an d -w atery m ovem ent reappears
in the noun OóeXXa, a raging tem pest, which corresponds to
Οΰw in the sam e w ay as äeXXa does to άημι w ith very sim ilar
m eanings.40 T h e im plications o f this link arc w rit large in
imagery that H om er applies to θυμός in mental life. A s C . P.
Caswell has show n, m any o f the verbs that render its
movement are used identically o f gusts and storm s— όρίυω,
όνίημι, όττοτρΰνιυ, (τησαίύαμαι— and on the larger scale several
sim iles liken confusion and indecision in the θυμός to
tempests at sea.5" T h e clearest exam ple is when N estor
cannot decide how best to help his com rades in the battle
by the ships:

o>r ό ’ ΰ τ ( π ο ρ Ί ν ρ η ι π / λ α γ ο ς μ <γα κ ιίμ α τι κ α ιφ ώ ι,

o a a ó /n vn v Χ ιγ ίι,ιν liv fp iu v Χ ηιφ ηρά κ ίλ ιν ίΐα
α υ τ ω ς , οι’ο ' Λριι τ< π ρ ο κ υ Χ ίν δ ιru i οó S trlp tu a t,
π ρ ιν τ α ’« KtK pifitvnv K tiT aß ijptvai i κ d lös' ουρον,
Λ ς ό y lp io v ιΐιρ μ α ιΐ’ί δ ίΐϊζ ό μ ιν η ς y a r d θυμ όν
διχΟ ή διη , . , ( Χ ΐν . | 6 - 2 | )

Similarly, weariness and confusion among the Achaean

warriors is like a turbulent sea stirred up by conflicting
winds:

" On iiijpi, ilijrifv, »re C lim lln illV ' ( i g ) j ) , 252.

(n jg o ), r»|>. 5 1 - 6 .1 ; mul of. O niitn* ( 1 9 5 1) , 4 5—ft.
82 The Language o f Thought and L ife
city S* ά νεμ ο ι δ ύο π ό ν το ν o p iv tτο ν ίχ θ ΐ'ό (υ τ α ,
Π ο ρ ίη ς κ α ι Ζ ίφ ν ρ ο ν , τ ώ Τί (9ρ ί)ΐκ η θ (ν α η τ ό ν ,
ίλ Ο ό υ τ ' ίζα τ τ ΐν η ς · ά μ ν δ ις S i τ« κ ύ μ α κ«Λαιΐ'όμ
K o p d ó crai, ττολλόι· 5* τταρ ί ξ ά λ α φ ύ κ ο ς ΐ χ $ υ ΐν ,
toy τδ α ιζτ τ ο θ υ μ ό ς τνΐ σ τ ή θ (ο α ιυ Α χ α ιΰ ιν . (IX . 4 —8 )

'I’hc m ovem ent o f breath as thought and passion is m irrored in

the equ ally vital and eq u ally intangible flow o f squallin g winds
and chuening w aves in the w orld at large; and the singular
ΐδα ιζ(το θυμός suggests that the confusion is w ithin each
individual m an rather than betw een faction s.51 Sim ilarly
anguish batters the θυμός, θυμόν ίρίχθιυν (v. 83 = %'. 15 7 ) just
as a sto rm -b attered sh ip is Ιριχθομίνη (x x tu . 3 1 6 —17 ). In tighter
w o rd s the conception is the sam e when strife am ong the gods
m akes their θυμοί b lo w in contrary directions, δίχα δί σφιν ivi
φρ€θΙ θυμός άητο (χχ ι. 386), and again when a god d ess’s μίγας . . .
θυμός d rives her to im petuosity that blow s like w ind, θάρσος
άητον (χχ ι. 39 5); w h ile the adjective άιαίφρων and the noun
α.€οιφροσύνη, referrin g to recklessness or folly, probably com ­
bine the root o f άημι w ith that o f φρίι·(ς and φρονίω:5J thought
is the sam e thin g as fierce blow ing breath.
51 N o te also a sim ile (11. 14 3 - 9 ) « h e r e d iv isio n o f opiruon in the assem b ly is
likened to the m o vem en t o f « u v e s on 11 sto rm y sen. H ere the sam e verb
d e scrib e s th eir m ental state, τοΓοι SI θυμόν iv i στήΟιοσιν Spirt (it. 14 2 ); but the
fo llo w in g sim ile h an gs on the v e rb κινήθη, w ith the asse m b ly m oved or stirred
like c h o p p y w ave s, an d it is un clear w h ether the com p arison is w ith their
m ental state o r their p h ysical m ovem ent o r both. S im ila rly , a m ore com plex
sim ile (x v . 6 2 4 -9 ) likens H e cto r’s attack on the A chaean* to a storm falling on
a sh ip at sea, an d the sa ilo rs' te rro r co rresp o n d s to the A ciiae an s’ dism ay,
again ΐδ α ίζ ιτ ο θυμόν: but it is d ifficu lt to tell how co m p le x is the bin din g-
together o f id eas b etw een sim ile -im ag e and n arrative, an d it is not clear that
« h u t is h ap p en in g in the A ciiaeans* θυμοί is b ein g com p ared to the turm oil o f
the w in d s as w e ll as the s a ilo rs' terror.
51 T o be άιοίφριυυ is to be a reckless fo ol, and άιοιφροοννη is ch ildish naivety
(x v . 4 70 ). In su ch a com p ou n d the second elem ent is n o rm ally the object o f
the ve rb a l idea e xp re ssed in the first elem en t: com p are αρτϊφροιν (x x iv . 2 6 1),
w h ich e m b o d ie s the root o f dpapiorw — (he soun d thin ker settles o r fixes his
th o u g h t-s tu lf (cf. R is c h ( 19 7 4 ) . §57» -« )· O n that an alo g y άισίφρυυι is sim ple
e n o u g h : the p e rso n 's thought p ro ceed s as a g u sty b lo w in g . H o w ev e r, ancient
an d m od ern sch o lars have som etim es read άαοίφραιν and άααιφροαννη, « h o se
first elem en t w o u ld e m b o d y the root seen in odea and ατη rath er than that in
άημι. In so m e at least o f the attestations the fo lly in qu estio n is less serious
than w hat m igh t be called άτη, and this stren gth en s the case fo r readin g α»σι·;
on the oth er h an d , w hen one w ho is φρςοΐν νισ ιν SaaOiis h old s h is an ger in his
 M ental L ife and the B o d y 3
I f we arc w illin g to regard the sim iles o f storm not as isolated
decorations but as a serious reflection o f H o m er s con ception o
mental life, w e can seize on them as a representation w rit large
of how thought is im agined to proceed. Ju st as rush in g w in
m oves over the face o f the sea, so the inhaled breath rushes
along tow ards the oozing stu ff at the base o f the lungs; and ju st
as the dark flow ing sea is ch urn ed up w ith rhe w inds in t c
tempest, so this breath m ingles with blood and the other
ebbing and flow ing liquid s o f the exp an d in g ehest; and once
we add the point that in practice each o f the noun^ in the θυμοί
fam ily can stand for the whole phenom enon, then H o m er s
psychological im agery w ill fall into a su b tle and con sistent
pattern. .
W hat goes on in φρΐνίί? T h e activity m ust be what is
represented by the verb φρονίιο, w hich is d erived fro m the
noun by w ay o f the com pounds in -φριυν.53 U su a lly this verb
seems translatable b y psychological w o rd s like think or
‘ponder*: but there are a few places w here it is u n avoid ab le
that we interpret ‘ draw ing into the φρό-ες’ as inh alation.
W hen a fighting anim al or a furiou s w arrio r is μίγο. φρονούν
ά(σΐφρ<η·ι/άααί4>ροι·ί Ο νμύι (xxi. 30 , _ 2 ). >Γ <s v e r y te m p tin g to read ä a o i- fo r the
sake o f ehe fig u ra etym ologica. It rem ain s p o ssib le that one o f the tw o
form ations w as in trodu ced d u rin g the tran sm issio n o f the text, o r e v e n that
the am b igu ity goes back to the livin g epic trad itio n . (S e e L J g r E s .v . daatypw v,
C hantrainc s .v . äaeu; F e m a n d c z -G a lia n o at x x i. 3 0 2 . I am in d eb ted to
T . M e issn er fo r advice on this in trigu in g p ro b le m .)
'* O n the sequence o f w o rd -fo rm atio n fro m φρήν via -φριυν to φρονίαι, sec
L ru m an n (19 5 0 ), 1 1 4 —16 ; R u ijg h (19 5 7 ), 1 0 5 - 6 ; S n e ll ( 19 7 8 ) , 5 3 “ 5 · W h a te v e r
»ne historical sequence o f develop m en t, H o m e r's ow n w o rd s sh o w that fo r
him the sem antic connections run in both d ire ctio n s. T h e w o rd s run S i φ ρινιις
α φ ρπι -t<W<v (iv . 10 4) m ake nonsense if άφρ<υν here m ean s 'w ith o u t φρί'ver*:
rather, the adjective m ust be taking its m ean in g fro m the v e rb , so that a clo se
translation w ould be 'she persu ad ed h is an d he w as not h im s e lf
(F o r a conceit o f a som ew hat sim ilu r k in d , co m p are E u r y c tc ia 's
w ords w hen she tells P enelope not to tro u b le L a e rte s : μ η 8( γ ίρ ο ν τ α κακού
Ktκακό»μίναν, iv . 7 5 4 .) H o w ev e r, sin ce th e relatio n sh ip b etw een φρήι» and
φρον4ω docs not an sw er to one o f the re g u lar p attern s o f w *ord-form ution
there can he no guarantee that it is os a ctiv e in the H o m e ric lexico n as is (c .g .)
that betw een ttvccu und π<πννμαι, w h ere the co rre sp o n d e n ce is re g u la r and
transparent b etw een tw o parts o f the p n rad igm o f a sin g le v e rb (b e lo w , p p . 84­
5 w ith nn. 5 7 -9 ).
14 T h e exam p les o f this ore su b tly d e m o n strated b y L o c k h a rd t (19 6 6 ).
” B e a sti. X I . 3 2 5 , X V I . 7 5 8 , 8 2 4 ; w a rrio rs , v i n . 5 5 3 , x i. 29 6, x i u . 15 6 ,
8.1
n» hr »utgfs into the liny, lie is not thinking »leep nr cnmplex
thought*: apparently lln m e r menus tlint lie is gulping in nir,
just ns lie might elsewhere tleseiihc advancing wnii'ioiti ns /1#i*eii
T»i«ioi-r«s', experiencing the onset o f warlike passion as the
gutping in o f breath (n i. S, XXIV, „VM, etc.), while likewise
/uro?, fki/uio«, mul suchlike arc breathed in or thrust in, t/orrcixie
or when a man is impelled to valour or high spirits by a
(tod.” * T h ere is a sim ilar suggestion when a speech in the
assem bly is introduced by the line
Λ σφ ιν iv ^ p a v iiu i· α γ α ρ ή ο α τα κ α ι f u r jt f n t v . . . ( l . 7 3 = 2 5 3 . etc.)

T h e sense tits the context best if we take it that the speaker’s

lungs are filled with the breath o f thought, ίϋφρονίων, when he
projects his voice. Sim ilarly Priam contrasts H ector’s coming
death with the prospect o f his own survival: when his son lies
dead the old man will be « τ ι «/ι/ιον^οντα, not ‘still pondering’ but
still breathing as a living and thinking man (xxn. 50)·
I f when l φρονΰο 1 draw air into the lungs, in the next stage
o f the process it makes sense that the key verb for sound
reflective thinking is πίπικμαι, ‘ 1 have inhaled’ . Scholars have
been su rp risin gly unw illing to accept that ττίτη-κ/ιαι is the
perfect m iddle o f netto, ‘ 1 breathe’ , but the identification
m akes straightforw ard sense.” In the specially precise meaning
XVI. 35X , XXII. 3 1 . O f cou rse ρ ί γ α fp o vitu could be taken to m ean that (he breast
is sw ollen w ith violent expanded thought, w hich is itse lf spoken o f as hreatli;
b u t it is strikin g that the w ords occur every tim e w hen the beast or w arrior is
m o vin g headlong, either advancing to battle or actually attacking, w hen lie
w ould he engaged in action not thought.
“ F o r ,’μ*Μΐ·σ< μ«,·ο,·. see r.g . X. 482. XV. 60. XV. 363 = xx. 1 10 , XVII. 456; for
ΐρ β α .\ · ,ι/ ιο ί und sim ilar, see n i. 13 0 , X. 3 <>6 . x m . 83. x v i. 529 , XVII. 11H ;
x ix . 10 , xix. -185, etc. >
” S ee C hnntraine s.v .; F risk s.v . T h e lexicograph ers’ objections seem to
he grou n d ed in nothing but sem antic com m on sense (note esp. Chnntraine
a ,I fin .) , and I sec no reason 10 resist the plain con clusion-that m W /ιαι
relates to *η«ω in the sam e w ay as (for exam ple) κ ίχ ν μ α ι relates to χ ιια (see
U isch (19 7 4 ), § 130 11). Beyond that, all that need be said is that the perfect
πιηι-νμαι denotes specifically— even e xclu sively— thinking ns a result o f
in halin g, w hile the other form s o f η ι/ω im ply nothing but the gu lp in g in
o f nir; and this narrow ing o f the sem antic range in the perfect lends 10 a
sp e cially precise m eaning for the participle ν*ννυμΙνor. (C om pare R uijgli
(10 5 7 ), 1 3 4 - S . also N ehring (19 4 7 ); and m ore extravagant speculations by
Q uinns ( 1 9 5 1) . S 7 “ b l)·
86 The Language o f Thought and L ife
to w isd o m f ix e d in th e character: th e in t e llig e n t m an is
itνπ νυμ ίνα μή&ια ί ι δ ώ ί (Ü. 3 8 ; s im . IV. 6 9 6 , 7 1 1 » XXIV. 4 4 2 , CtC.)
o r s i m p l y ττνπνυμίνας ( n i . 1 4 8 ; iii. 5 2 , 3 2 8 , iv . 1 9 0 , v iii. 3 8 8 ,
x v i i i . 6 5 , 1 2 5 , e tc .) .
T h i s l e a d s u s to a f u r t h e r g r o u p o f c o g n a t e s : th e a d je c t iv e
τ τ ιν υ τ ό ς , th e n o u n n i r n i j , a n d th e v e r b ά π ι ν ύ σ σ ΐ ΐ ν . ',η T o be
m i ’VTOt is to b e w i s e b y c h a r a c t e r , w h i l e π ι ν ν τ ή is w i s d o m that
e n t e r s t h e l u n g s , φ ρίζα ς Γκο ( x x . 2 2 8 ) — in o t h e r w o r d s , it is
b r e a t h . ' ' 1 T h e r a n g e o f m e a n i n g o f th e n e g a t i v e άπινυσσω'*2
c a p t u r e s t h e id ea c l e a r l y : o n th e o n e h a n d it is u s e d o f on e
u n a b l e to c a tc h h is b r e a t h , 6 δ* ά ρ γ α λ ί ι ο ι ΐ χ ί τ ' ά σ β μ α τ ι κ-ήρ
ά ιτ ιν ύ σ ο ω ν ( x v . 1 0 ) , a n d o n th e o t h e r o f o n e w h o s e e m s n ot to
la c k w i s d o m o r in t e ll ig e n c e , Boxetis St μ ο ι 01V airivuaoeiv ( v . 3 4 2 ,
vi. 258 ).
A s b r e a t h is d r a w n in to th e m e n t a l a p p a r a t u s in the b re a s t,
it c o m b i n e s w i t h b o d i l y f l u i d s in th e d e e p e n i n g a n d c o n c e n ­
tr a t io n o f t h o u g h t . T o p o n d e r s o m e t h i n g is to cast it a r o u n d
w i t h i n , cv φριο'ι βάλλομαι o r tv ΰυμ ώ ι βάλλομαι;'’3 a n d w h e n
Ml M o st sch olars seem to agree that there is som e relation betw een m-rui
and/or trcvrvvfta« and these w ord s, but it is not cle ar w hat it is: see the varyin g
exp re ssio n s o f acceptance, d o u b t, and equivocation b y C hantraine i.v ., Frisk
s .v ., S c h u lz e (18 9 2 ), 3 2 2 - 5 , R u ijg h ( *957). >34- 5. R isch (19 7 4 ). § t ° 5b · and
the m ore detailed (if im pen etrable) defen ce o f the connection b y N chrtng
(19 4 7 ) , 1 1 1 - 1 2 . S e e m in g ly the sch o lars’ m ain pro blem is again late 20th-
ce n l. com m on sense. F o rm a lly , the d ifficu lty is the relation betw een -mm-
and - tmi' u-. S im p le an ap tyxis is un ch aracteristic o f G re e k and cannot be
offered us u sto p gap explan ation o f the 1 in -wum-. H ow ever, T . M eissn er hus
su ggested to m e that there is a tentative parallel in an alternation seen in
fo rm s in -1-9- that are attested fo r certain ve rb s, as κίρι-ημι for κ ιρ ά ιιι·μ ι,
π ϊτνη μι fo r η#τάιι·υμι, οκ&ι-ημι fo r σκί&άνννμι. H ere the nasal should im ply that
the attested fo rm com es from the zero-grad e o f the root: but there is no
straig h tfo rw ard exp lan atio n o f th e form w ith 1 either as a developm ent o f that
ze ro -g rad e o r ns an exten sion b y levellin g from the aorist form , w hich is
norm al e -g ra d e in each case (see S ih lc r (19 9 5 ). § 473b )· " h a t w e see. then, is
the u n exp ected app earan ce o f on 1 b etw een the tw o consonants o f a verbal
stem d e rive d fro m a zero -g rad e, ju s t ns w ith ou r form s in -trim-. 1 he
sim ila rity is esp ec ially close in κιρνημι, w ith its sequence o f stop + resonant.
61 F o r the ad je ctiv e in m ó t , sec i. 2 29 , iv . 2 1 1 , xi. 44S· * x · * 3 · · x**· lo 3 ·
x x iii. 3 6 1 ; fo r the noun irivim j, VII. 289 : x x . 7 1 , 228 .
62 P o sitive mvuoow/ttivvoKui is not attested in H om er, as the isolated
in w vo o tv (Xiv. 249) p ro b ab ly m okes better sense if w e take it from inuóooui
(see Ja n k o ad lo c., w ith M S su p p o rt), but it appears in A e sch ylu s (P e n . 830)
and p o ssib ly S im o n id e s (508. 2 P ; b u t c f. C h . 5 n. 19 ). ^ _
*’ T h e fo rm u la άΛΛο è( rot lp t1*. ού S ’ tv 4>ptoi βάλλίο tnjiat is com m on in both
 M en ial L ife and the Body 87
Penelope reflects on her life her thoughts arc w hirled around
inside her, r o S t θ υ μ ό ς tVi σ τ ή θ ι α σ ι φ ίλ ο ισ ι | π ό λ λ ' Ι π ι ύ iv e t r a t
(xx. 2 1 7 - 1 8 ) . H ere the m ovem ent perhaps suggests that o f
storm y w ind, recalling the sim iles noticed above; but as we
move into the m ingling o f breath with bodily fluids the cru cial
clue in those sim iles is provided less b y the wind than b y the
storm y waters, w hich correspond e.v hypolhesi to the fluids—
especially blood— that ebb and flow in the breast as breath is
drawn into it. T h e θ υ μ ό ς is μ ΐ λ ι η δ ή ς or μ ΐ λ ί φ ρ ω υ , like honey in
the φ ρ ή ·( ς .,,Α I f thought flows as an oozing flu id °Jyind the inner
recess o f the breast is liquid, it m akes sense that H om er
renders pondering and doubting by the verb -πορφύρα)
(xxi. 5 5 1; iv. 4 27 = iv. 572 = x. 30g), w hich w e have already
seen used in a psychological sim ile to denote the turbulent
heaving o f the sea (above, p. 8 t).°'> C on sid er then the rem ark ­
able image in κ α κ ά β υ σ σ ο δ ο μ ε ύ ω (iv. 676, v iii. 2 7 3, ix. 3 16 ,
xvii. 66, xvii. 4 6 5 = 4 9 1 = xx. 1S4), w hich is alw ays used o f

epics (l. 297 —xi. 4S4. etc.). C om p are νόστον . , . μ ίτ ά φ ρ<οϊ. . . βάλλιαι (ιχ . 434~
5) ; «V θ ν μ ύ ι δ* Ιβάλαντο Ιττος (XV. 5^*6); cV ϋ ιμ ώ ι βάλλον 7m i μο ι χόλον (XIV. 5° ) ί
τοιαϋτα μ«τά φριοίν ΐργα βάλητηι (χ ί. 4 2S ). On the depth o f the thought b rou gh t
into the φρ<\(ς, sec also S n ell (19 7 8 ), 83—5.
w S im ilarly anger is sw eeter than d rip p in g honey (x v m . 109 ) and a m an can
be γλυκϋθυμας (XX. 467).
*’ ττ<ΐί*άλιμ„ϊ (v ili. 36 0. XIV. lö s . XV. S i . x x. 35 ) is an epithet o f φρίνςς w h ich
has often been explained as a d erivative o f ntófaj, a pin e-tree (sec C h an train e
3.V., Frisk S.V.). Because φρόνςς arc ττοικόΛιμαι w hen one falls asleep (x iv . 1 6 5 —
6) . it is attractive to gu ess that the link with p in e-trees lies in the oozing o f p in e
rerm : com pare μιλϊφραιν ténos (tl. 34 ); but for a neater solution see b elo w , p. 89
with n. 75.
πονφύρον is a fine puzzle. T h e psych ological in stan ces c le arly re fe r to
doubt or pondering, and the verb is also used o f the h eavin g action o f the sea.
ι he latter association n atu rally recalls the ad jective ττορφΰρςος t w h ich is often
used of the deep, dark colour o f sea as well us o f b lood, clo u d s, and su ch like
'-.r- G in p e r ( i 9f>4) and M o rc u x (19 6 7 : 2 6 3 -8 ). on the co lo u r πορφύρ,ος).
D espite this, C hantraine (s.v. πορφυροί) holtls that the ad jective and the verb
come from different roots: he suggests that it is through a con fu sion o f senses
that froth are used o f the sea. T h is seem s to m e too easy: is it p o ssib le that
πορφόριοτ sim p ly covers both an area o f colou r and a type o f m ovem en t, ‘ dark
and flowing , in the sam e w ay as αργός m eans in determ in ately w hite and s w ift-
m oving. and fovOör m eans both nim ble and em itting a trillin g soun d? (D ale at
Eu r. l i c i t 1 1 1 1 ). S e c fu rth e r C cstu ig n an o (19 5 2 ); Irw in (19 7 4 ) . tg n. 3 1 . w ith
further refs.; and com pare the in trigu in g verb καΛχαιϊω (S o p h . A n t. 2 0 ; E u r.
H eract. 40),
88 The Language o f Thought and Life
deep or deceitful plotting: the thinker is building in the depths
o f the sea, ß vocoif 7 T h e word applies the image o f the heaving
ocean to what could be described in m ore lean language as
‘ hiding one's thoughts’ in the mental apparatus, ns when
A ch illes describes the deceitful or disingenuous man who
conceals his thoughts deep in his breast, 5ς èrtpov μίν
καίθηι evi φρΐοίν, άλλο Sè eïmrji (iX. 3 Ι 3 ) .ΛΗ
Inside the breast the stu ff o f thought ebbs and (lows. When
on e's m ental state is w ise or reasonable, αϊσιμος,"'' it is in
eq u ilib riu m , held in φρίνας «ίσα? (xi. 337 , xiv. 178 , xviii. 249);
sim ilarly a strong and w ise man is well fixed in his thoughts,
φρ€οιν ηιαιν άρηρώς (x. 5 5 3 ) ,'° ju st as one fortified by food has
filled his θυμός with good things, πλησάμΐνος . . . θυμόν Ιδητνος
ijS è T70T7}τος (xvii. 603), and has settled and strengthened what is
in his breast, rfpape θυμόν ΐ&ωδήι (v. 95 = xiv. 1 1 1) .71 Sim ilarly a
firm intention or idea is fixed or settled in the mental apparatus,
μύθος . . . evi φρΐαίν rjpapev ήμϊν (iv. 777)» 2nd a wise person is
*7 T h e first elem ent m ust refer to the depths o f the sea, βυοαοί (thus L fg r E
s .v ., and both C h an train c an d F risk , s .v . βυθός). A s such the m etaphor (as it
seem s to be) is unusual in H om er fo r its extravagance (see R u sso at xvii. f>6).
Its im p lication s are startlin g ly extended by A esch ylu s, whose im age o f the
th in ker as a d iv e r in the deep sea (Supp. 4 0 7 -9 ) reinterprets the idea o f mental
βυοαοί in a ch aracteristically heightened m anner.
“ F o r *<όβω in this sen se, see esp. I. 3&3 = χ ν ι. 19 ; viii. 5 4 s . xviii. 406,
x x iii. 30 , x x iv . 4 74 · C o m p are κλίτττω : μ η *A«rrr« νυιυι (1, 1 3 2) eviden tly refers to
deceit (thus K ir k ad lo c.; cf. rVAn/t v o w , x iv . 2 17 ) · C om pare also vóór σ χ ίΰ ι
τ ό ν δ Ά 'ΐ θυμΰιι (x iv . 49° ) ·
Μ F o r ηίσιμος. cuo.oï, o r haCoipos as the best q u ality o f θυμός and the others,
con trasted w ith em otional excess and unruliness o f the thought-stuff, see
x x iv . 40: ii. 2 3 1 = v . 9. vii. 3 0 9 - 10 ; fo r the sam e contrasted w ith foolishness or
d issip atio n o f the th o u g h t-stu ff, see x v iii. 220 (the sam e form ula as x x iv . 40),
x x ii. 14 ; con trasted w ith its hardness (.αιόήρςος), v. 1 9 1 ; and see also xiv. 4 33.
70 H e re the q u ality is denied to the weak Elpen or.
i i T h e op p osite state is ap p aren tly what is expressed b y the cu rious image
o f d ie fo rlo rn , d esp airin g m an w ho cannot or w ill not taste food and drink and
eats the s tu ff o f thought in his breast, θυμόν «ίω ν and Cr θυμόν κατ«ίων (νι. 202;
jx _ 75 = χ · ' 43. Χ· 379)'. sim ilarly σην «Sra« κραόίηυ (x x iv . 129)· Ignoring the
su p erficial resem blance to som ething like ‘eating his heart o u t’ in E n g lish , the
id ea seem s to be that the absence o f food or drink entering the breast leads the
fastin g m an instead to con su m e what is already inside it— in oth er w ords, to
d e v o u r h is θυμός. S ee csp . x x iv . 12 9 . x . 379. where the connection w ith failure
to eat is m ade e xp licit. P erh aps the connection o f ideas is that as he fasts he
falls m ore and m ore into d esp air, so that on both counts his θυμός is
d im in ished .
 M ental Life and the Body 8y
fixed in his thinking, άρτίφρωυ (xxiv. 2 6 1): the adjective is a
compound in -φροιν built on the same stem as in ijpnpe.
C orrespondingly, with deep thought or emotion the stuff in
the breast is com pressed. T h e key adjective is πι>*(ι)ι>ό?, dense
or concentrated.” T h o se who are thoughtful or troubled are
thinking conccntratcdly, πόκα . . . φρον(όντων (ix. 554, xtv. 2 17 ),
and they have dense thoughts, -πυκινά φρ(σι /njSe' ίχοντΐς
(X XIV. 282, 674; xix. 353); O dysseus is πυκινά φρονίων when
he outwits Polyphem us (ix. 445)· ar|d the plan o f Zeus is Διός
„υκ,νον ιό or (xv. 4 6 1). Sim ilarly Penelope describes her troubles
as dense in her mental apparatus, πυκιναί . . . άμφ’ άδtvav κήρ |
όξίΐαι peXtSüivai (xix. 5 1^—1~)* óSooj here is a virtual synonym
of ιτυχνός (sec also x v i. 4 8 1) ,73 and subtle thoughts and plans are
themselves πΐ’κ ινά /4 densely wrought, ju st as crafty schemes
and plots are spun or woven in the thoughts, with the verbs
νφαίναν and ράτττί.ν (sec C h. 7, pp. 2 5 1 - 2 with n. 49). When
φρΙν(<; are described as π ί υ κ ά λ ι μ α ι (vu t. 366, xtv. 16 5 , xv . S i ,
XX. 35) the adjective explains itself best as a cousin o f -πυκνός:
the stuff in the breast is thickly concentrated.74

71 Exam ples o f πνκ(,)ι·όί o f things that are close-packed o r concentrated:

vn rr.ors in battle form ation (tv. 2 S 1 , v . 9 3. etc.), doors sn u g ly fitted (XIV. 33 9 ,
etc.), a dense forest ( x v ilt. 32 0 , etc.), a hail o f w eapons throw n (xi. 576), the
dense roots o f an uprooted tree (xxt. 245. etc.), stones fitted to a w all (x v i. 2 12 )
and stakes holding one together (x x iv . 4 5 3); the layers o f hide covering on a
shield (XIII. 803—4), arm o u r stron g enough to resist b low s (xv. 529), a
thundercloud (v. 7 5 1 . x v i. 2 9 7-8 ), w in gs (repeatedly beating?) (x i. 454).
T h e m eaning is less clear w hen the adjective is applied to bedclothes
(IX. 6 2 1, etc.) or a house (x ii. 3 0 1 , etc.), b u t the general shape o f the m eaning
is precise. T h e cognate ve rb ττ-υναζω and the ad v erb mlnn are used in the same
way. Chnntraine (s.v. πϊ·κα) considers it 'p eu t-être possib le, m ais pas trés
satisfaisant' that 'd en se' and 'in telligen t' should b e in the sam e sem antic field,
hut he sees no altern ative. Both Boisacq and F risk (s.v .) speculate to explain
the link. C f. V ivan te (19 8 2 ), t i 5 - t h , 1 1 8 ; D arcu s S u lliv a n (19 S 8 ), 13 7 - 8 ,
1 69 n.
7> T . M eissn er points out to me that άδινό? p lain ly relates to iSpos, 'd en se',
in the sam e w ay us κν&νός to κιδρός, w ith the characteristic intrusive -·- o f a
Caland system . S ee also C han train e ( 19 3 3 ) . t o o - t .
7* Exam ples o f irv«(i)ros applied to the p ro d u cts o f thought: βονΧή (ll. 55).
ΐφ ιτμ ή (XVIII. 2 ih ), δόΑο! (v i. 18 7), rrroi (XXIV. 7 5 ) pvt>ta (lii. 23). T h e astute
slave Euryclcia is πνκιμη& ήϊ (i. 438), and good ad vice is given vvku -ius (i. 279)-
7‘ I an\ indebted again to T . M e issn e r for pointing out this correlation on
the analogy o f such pairs as χυ 5ρός and κνδάΛιμο! (see also R isch ( 1974). § 37)·
C f. D arcu s S u lliv a n (19 8 8 ), 9 0 - 1 ; O nians ( 1 9 5 1) , 30 -4 .
go The Language o f Thought and Life

Neiu emotions flow into the mental apparatus

In accordance w ith this system , the access o f any strong or
violent em otion is the en try o f new , oozing liquids into the
breast. Em otion arrives there— ueavev, ïkcto, and sim ilar— and
covers over the <f>pivts as blood and other fluids flow in the
chest. Λ few especially v ivid renderings show clearly what is
im agined. W hen A gam em n on is enraged his lungs becom e
blackened and sw ollen with μόνος, perhaps specifically identi­
fied w ith b lo o d :7**
p t v t o t S i μ ΐγ α . φ ρ ό νίς άμφ'ι μ ίλ α ιν α ι
ν ίμ π λ α ν τ ο . . . ( l. 103— 4; also iv. 661-2)77

A c h illes’ breast is filled w ith the sam e volatile stu ff when he

rushes against his foe in the w ilder circum stances o f battle:
ά ιρ μ ή θ η S ' } 1χ ι \ ( ό ΐ , / i t V t o s δ * Ι μ π λ ή σ α τ ο θ υ μ ό ν
α γ ρ ίο υ . . . (Χ Χ ΙΙ. 3 * 2- · 3)

S im ila rly Z eu s describes how passion— this tim e sexual— has

been poured into his breast and has overcom e his θυμός:
ον γάρ 7τώ ποτό μ' ωδ< θιάς ΐρος ούδί yuvatrcoy
θ υ μ ό ν i v i οττ)θ(σσ ι vrp tvp o yvO e !ς f ö ó p a c c f i '. (XIV. 3 , 5—*^)

Passion covers over P aris’ φ ρ ό ν ίς as never before:

oil γ ά ρ vu t v o r t μ ' tL S i y ' fpu tt <1<ρ(νας άμ<1
* κ ά Χ infrtv. (ill. 442)

S im ila rly w arlike b ravery fills them in a w arrior:

κ α ι aO ivtoc ν Χ η τ ο φ ρ α ν ς α μ φ ι μ νΧ α ινα ς. (X V ll. 499)

G r ie f strikes one deep in the φ ρην:

. . . τ ο ν δ* ά χ ο ς ό ξ ν κ α τ ά 4>piva rvj>€ (3α θ *ϊα ν. (Χ ΙΧ .125)

In an extended version o f this image g rief touches or feels its

w ay into the θυμός, iofpiooero . . . θυμόν ( X V ll. 564; cf. X I. 59·)·
On entering the φρόν(ς it sw ells them, makes them dense:
7* S e e fu rth er P ad cl ( 19 9 2 : 2 3 -fi), w h o closely identifies pivo t and χόλος
w ith the flow o f b lood in to the chest. O n p iv o t see also b elo w , pp. 1 1 0 - 1 1 .
77 O n this p assag e see csp . C o m b ellack ( i 975)> w ho em phasizes the
anatom ical referen ce.
 M enial L ife and the Body 9i

Έ κ τ ο p a δ ' α ί ν ο ν ά χ ο ς τ ν κ α ο ί φ ρ ί ν α ς ά μ φ ί /rcAcnvat.
(χνιι. 83; sim. vin. 124 = vin . 3 1 **)

Likewise when a man actively increases his g rie f he rouses it up

in him self,
. . . iv μ ) ν κρ α ύίη t μ ί γ α ν ΐ ν θ ο ς a t ( f . (XVÜ. 4 8 9 )

So far, all this answers very literally to the conception that the
deeper part o f the mental apparatus ebbs and flows like the
storm y sea in the psychological sim iles discussed parlier in this
chapter. H ow ever, in a few instances H o m er pushes this
phenomenon o f covering, entering, and seizing by these
fluids onto a m ore figured level o f language. A m an is said to
have put on b ravery in his φρίνΐς like a garm ent, φριοίν ΰμίνος
tLW/k’ (XX. 3 8 1), sim ilarly θοΰριν ίττκ ιμάνοι άλκην
(V II. ι6 4 = ν ιιι. 2Ö2);78 in a different im age g rie f gnaw s inside,
μ ΐ υ *αταδά7ττίτ[αί] . . . φίλον ητορ (xvi. 92), w hile strife eats at
the mental apparatus: it is θυμοβάρος ίρις (vu . 2 10 ). 9
All this makes sense if the em otion is a substance flow ing or
oozing into the base o f the breast. T o understand this con cep ­
tion it is worth com paring H om er's rendering o f the effects o f
drinking wine, which physically enters the breast and p sy ch o ­
logically makes a man drunk. Because H om er does not d istin ­
guish the lungs in particular from the lower breast as a w hole,
the digestive and respiratory processes go together.80 H ence the
* C om pare the im age o f a m an clothed in sh am elessn ess, άναιόιϊην
(V i» fu ia ; (1. 14 9 . IX. 37 2 ). T h e sam e idea is su ggested in later literature
when T h e o gn is d escribes a tipsy m an as οΓνωι θίυρηχθ( 1ς (470. 84 2, e tc.; sint.
Pindar, fr. 72 M ): the w ine covers over w hat is inside h is b reast in the sam e
shape as a breastplate w ould do outside. A sim ilar im age is su ggested b y the
eoithet in A e sch ylu s' μ ιλα γχίτοιν φρήν (P ers. 1 1 5 ; see O niuns ( 1 9 5 1 ) , 2 7), w h ere
1-lack blood oozing in the φριjv has covered it as a garm en t in the p ro cess that
H om er m ore sim ply renders w hen he d escribes A g a m e m n o n 's anger, μό·«ο; bl
μ*·/Λ φιorVrs αμφι μ ίλ α ιναι | π ίμ π λ α ιτο (l. 1 0 3 —4)·
4 C om p are δάχ» Sr φρίνας Έ κ τ ο ρ ι μύθος (ν. 493). and θυμοδακής . . . μύθος
(viii. 18 5 ) In the sam e constellation is the id ea that fire eats w hat it b u rn s, trap
iaOUi (XXIII. 1823. A s often , it is im p ossib le to tell w h eth er the ran ge o f
m eaning o f each verb has been deliberately exten d ed into a m etaphorical sense
o f 'd e vo u rin g ': certainly the im age is less extravagan t than the tragic αύρας
yniffor ( P V 370). w hich p ro b ab ly looks d ire ctly to H o m e r’ s αύρ ioOltv
T h is goes against the grain o f m od ern com m on sense, b u t it is
irresistible. In H om er the clearest p ro o f is the e xp re ssio n νληαάμ(νος . . .
 i
•N
92 The Language o f Thought and L ife
en try o f w in e into the body exactly parallels the entry of
em otion in the form o f breath and blood. W ine seeps into the
4>pives in an oozing, h o n ey-like flow, it is μΐλίφριον (vi. 264;

. <1.·
' ϋ · 1^ 2 , etc.); it goes around them , /tiixAuiira nepl φρίνας tjXvOcv
oiVo? (ix. 36 2), it holds them , οίνος éXtt φρένας *7
(x v iii. 3 3* = 3 9 1) ; in a drunk man they are overw helm ed, and h
he is δαμασσαμενος φρένα οΐνιοι (ix. 454· cf· ix. 5*6) or he is
b urdened in them by the w ine, ßtβαρηότα . . . φρένας οΐνωι t-
(xix. 12 2 ; sim . iii. 139 ); and the drunk man makes his φρένίς
w ild , φρένα.s’ ciaaev οΐνωι (xxi. 2 9 7 ) · I f anger and passion swell
the b reast in the sam e w ay, the inference m ust be that they arc t.
identified no less fu lly and literally as a rushing m ovem ent of
fluid into the breast.

The flow o f bile, χόλος

B ecau se o f the nature o f the story-lin e in our two survivin g
ep ics, it is v e ry often dangerous or violent em otions that are
d escrib ed as flow ing into the m ental apparatus. T h is comes
m ost to the fore in the rendering o f heroic pride and folly.
A ch illes, ch aracteristically, produces the m ost striking render­
in g o f this phenom enon when he rails against the anger o f his
quarrel w ith A gam em n on , anger w hich is at at once disastrous
and sw eet as d rip p in g honey:

id f ίρ ις l x Tt Oeiliv <V t * nvOpiuTTuiv α π ό λ ο ιτ ο ,

κ α ί χ ό λ ο ς , ός τ ’ ( φ έ η κ ί ττολύφρονά n ep χ α λ ίΐτ ή ν α ι,
ζ ς τ« 7τοΑ ι· γ λ υ κ έ ω ν μ έ λ ιτ ο ς κ α τ α λ η β ο μ έ ν ο ια
α ν δ ρ ώ ν ( V σ τ η ό ία ο ιν ά έ ζ ίτ α ι tjmtc κατο’ό ?. ( w i l l . Ι θ 7 “ ΐο)

T h e new em otion surges in, and the breast is in turm oil. In

their different w ays, billow in g smoke and flowing honey
participate in the kind o f flowing m ovem ent that H om er sees

θυμόν ΐόητύος ή δ ΐ πατητός (x v ii. 603). w here food arui drink go in io the
b reath in g ap p aratu s; sim ila rly the H om eric H ym n to D em eter d escrib es grazing
cattle as filling the φρψ· w ith fodder, Kopeooapevoi φρένα φαρβήι (1. 17 5 ); and
w hen A lcae u s u rges som eone to drink he tells h im to w et his lu n gs, τ/yy«
πλςι'ιμονας otvun (fr. 347 P). F o r the connection betw een the tw o types o f filling
o r con centration o f the chest, b y nutrition and b y im proved thought, see
X. 4 S ^ * S ·
 M ental L ife and the B o d y 93

in the life o f the p sych ic su b stan ces that arc inside the breasts
of m en.81
x ó,\os here is an em otion and a p sych o logical force, but b y the
same token it is a substan ce in the b o d y, produced by the
organs in the abdom en know n as χοΛάδ«, w hich are concrete
enough to slid e out when a m an’ s torso is sliced open
(IV. 526 = X X I . 1 8 1 ). ‘ B ile ’ is p ro b ab ly the truest tran slation.82
Although A ch ille s’ im agery is u n iqu ely v ivid , it is consistent
with what is said o f χόΛοί through out H o m e r.81 W hen a m an
grows an gry χόλος enters his b reast, t^rrroe Bvjiwi (ix. 436,
XIV. 207, 306), «Vot ( w it . 399); he puts it there, tvOto Ουμώι
(V i. 326); it is in his f p i (it. 2 4 1) ; he casts it around w ithin, iv
Ουμώι βόλλοιται . . . χόλου (xiv . 50); it enters the fp iv tς and seizes
him, rSu ( X I X . 16), λ/ißfv (l. 3 8 7 , V I. lf)fj, X V I. 30), rjtptt ( i V . 23;
viii. 304). H is b reast can hold it in check, ίχα&( σ-τήΟος χόλον
(vul. 4 6 1). W hen his anger deepens he keeps it guarded there,
φυλάααίΐ (xv i. 30); he fom ents it inside him and m akes it
m oistly sw ollen like ripened fruit, rrceaei (iv. 5 1 3 , IX . 565),
καταιτ(φπ)ΐ (i. S i ) ; 84 co n versely when he relents he releases it,

" T a p lin ( 19 9 2 : 199) su g g e sts that this sim ile 'a rise s p erh ap s from the
practice o f sm okin g b e e s’ ; fo r earlie r and e q u a lly im ag in ative in terp retation s
o f it see E d w a rd s ad lo c., and M o u lto n (19 7 9 ), 2 8 5.
*J F o r the tan gib le id en tity o f χόλος, note the p assag e w h ere A ch ille s
im agines the fru strated M y rm id o n s tellin g him that h is m oth er reared him
on this substan ce instead o f m ilk (x v i. 2 0 3 ). Padct ( 19 9 2 : 2 3 - 4 ) poin ts out that
m others sm ear this b itter su b stan ce on their n ip p le s to w ean b ab ies, so that
the im age evok es a ve ry real iro n y as w ell as re fe rrin g d ire c tly to the su b stan ce
that is identified w ith A c h ille s ' m ood.
*’ On the sw ollen n ess o f A c h ille s ' an ger see also G ill (19 9 6 ), 19 0 -2 0 4 .
** oiaout and co m p o u n d s are h ard w o rd s in H om er. T h e b asic idea seem s to
be o f rip en in g, as w h en the breeze h lo w in g on fru it-tre e s m akes som e gro w
w hile it rip en s o th ers: τά μ«κ φϋ<ι. άλλα Si n to o ti (v ii. 1 19 ). In p sych ological
language, the ve rb refers to b ro o d in g on an ger or so rro w w ith ou t acting upon
it. T h e clearest e xam p le is w h ere C a lch a s fears that A gam e m n o n w ill sup p ress
his anger fo r the m om ent but g iv e ven t to it later: r f rrep γάρ rr χόλον yr καί
αντήμαρ κ α τα η ίφ η ι, | αλλά π και μ ιτ ό η σ ^ ο ΐ \ η κότον, όφρα τ ιλ ΐο ο η ι, | iv
αττ,θίαοκν ioCoi (i. 8 1 —3). S im ila r ly , M e le a g e r, h is thoughts alread y fu ll o f
sullen w rath , lies b y h is w om an n u rsin g his an ge r, χόλον θνμα λγια vioaun·
(IX. 565); m uch the sam e w o rd s d e scrib e A ch ille s su lk in g (tv. 5 1 3 ) ; likew ise
Priam says that he g rie v e s im p o ten tly for H e cto r, κ-ΐ)5»α μόρια nioaui
(XXIV. 6 J9 ); and a fte r N io b e is tu rn ed to stone she con tinu es her sorrow ,
injSra rtiaoti (x x tv . 6 17 ) . W ith su ch im ag es there seem s to be a close analogy
w ith the rip en in g fru it-p lan ts: ju s t as the m oist Hesh o f the fru it in creases, *0
94 The Language o f Thought anel Life
ptOtptv (l. 283, X V . 138), μίΟ-ήοίΐ (i. 77), ία ( i X . 260), μίΟί(ν
χαλΐποϊο χοΑοιο (xxi. 377), and in some less clear sense he turns
his mental apparatus aw ay from it, ίκ χόλου άργαλίοω μ(τασ-
τρίφηι φίλον ητορ (X. 107).
T h e flow o f χόλο? and kindred em otions loom s especially
large when the plot o f the Iliad deepens and A ch illes’ anger is
expressed and criticized at length. H e describes how his mental
apparatus is being sw ollen by this substance:

αλλά μ ο ι ο t'lSai1« rtit κ ρ α δ ίη yóAtm. ό π π ό τ ς κ ίίν ω ν

μ ν η α ο μ α ι. (ix. 646— 7)

T h e sam e image appears when Phoenix tells how anger

sw elled M eleager’s thought in his breast:

ά λ λ ’ a r t δη λ ίίλ ία γ ρ ο ν ίδ υ χό λ ο ς, ό ς re κ α ί ά λ λω ν
oiW iiri tv οτηΟ τσαι νάον π ό κ α rrtp φ ρ ο ν ίό ν τ ω ν . . . (IX. 553“ 4)

T o resist stubborn pride is to curb or com press what swells in

the breast, at^trai ήΰτ( καπνός (x v iii. 110 ) . T h u s O dysseus
reports A ch illes’ refusal to yield, saying that he will not
quell"5 his anger but is filled still m ore with fury:
the x<iAof sw ells and thickens and gro w s m ore m oist in the m ental breast. T h e
tw o rem ain in g H o m eric instances arc m ore o b scu re. T h e rsite s sarcastically
urges that A gam em n on be left alon e w ith the gifts he has refused to part w ith,
αυτόν i r Τροϊηι yipa r ta a ip tv (11. 2 3 6 - 7 ) ; and H ecto r urges that the Achacans
be harried as they board their ships so llrat each o f them w ill have a svound to
nurse at hom e, ως τις τούτω ν yt βίλας καί οΖκοΟι ν ίο ο η ι ( ν ιιι. 5 1 3)· Hath o f diese
instances suggest the action o f holding som ethin g to o n eself and cradlin g it,
som ething like L a tin Jo v co , and this w orks w ell in the ligh t o f the p sych o ­
logical im age o f keeping χοΆοι close in the breast; but in these sam e two
passages it seem s im possib le to find an idea o f ripen in g or digesting. (F o r
unsatisfactory' attem pts at such explanations see K ir k ad locc.)
T h e standard translation o f σβίνννμι seem s to be "extinguish", and this
can be m isleading if it is taken to refer specifically to p u ttin g out a fire.
A lth o u g h the verb is often found w ith reference to fire it is eq u ally com m on
w ith o th er kinds o f con trollin g o r quiescence. T h u s to kill m en in battle is
ανθρώπων αβίαααι μίνα ς (χ νι. 6 2 1) , and ίαβ η | ονρος (iii. 18 2 —3) m eans that the
w in d died dow n. T h e m etaphors w ould be odd and H o m crically unique if the
im ages h ere w ere referrin g to fire. S im ila rly die adjective άοβ(<ττος is used o f
μίνα ς ( x x il. 96), shouting (xt. 50, e tc.), lau ghter (1. 599; v iii. 3 2 6 , etc.), and
fam e, κλ ίο ς (v ii. 3 3 3 ) , and o n ly m ore rarely o f fire. S h o u tin g , lam entation, and
ru m ou r arc occasionally said to bla2e, 8(8170 (it. 9 3 , X ll. 3 5 : x x · 353)· so at a
pinch άσβτστος m ight be taken as an im age from fire w hen it is applied to
 95
Alental L ife and the Body
ούκ iOlXti σ β ίσ σ α ι γάλον, αλλ ττι μάλλον
π ιμ π λ ά ν ιτα ι itcvtos. (IX. 6 78 —9)

Sim ilarly Phoenix urges A chilles to control him self, to o v e r

come his θυμός:*'“
ηλλ\ ί 1χιΛ<ύ, δάμασον θυμόν μ ί γ α ν o v S i τ ί at χρτ)
ν η λ ίίς rjrop ίχ ΐΐν . (ΐΧ. 496- 7)

In the sam e spirit O dysseus recalls P eleu s’ parting ad vice to his

son, that he should restrain or keep checked w hat is in his
breast:
. . . κάρτας μ ίν ΑΟηναίτ) τ< και "IΙρ η
Suiaova’ α ί κ ’ ίθ ίλ α ια t, σύ S i μ τγα λη τορα θυμόν
to yttv tv οτήΟ ΐοαι. (ΙΧ. 254“ 6)

Ajax describes how a man curbs his m ental apparatus w hen he

accepts com pensation for a w rong done him :
τού S i r* *pyTVf τα t KpaSty κα ί θυμός αγτινιυρ
ττοινην δίξα μϊνουι. (ΐΧ. 6 3 5 —6)

Phoenix recalls his own youthful im patience, w hen he refused

to do this:

At the beginning o f the W rath A ch illes had seen the

possibility o f such restraint when he con sidered w h eth er to
kill A gam em non or to repress his rage, χόλον παύαίκν τρητύσίΐό
ττ θυμόν (i. X92);8S and when he finally rises up from his
utterances; hut since w in d , «-.Woe, μ ίτο ς, and χόΑοϊ are n ow h ere else d e sc rib e d
in terms o f tire, it seem s best to suppose s im p ly that the m ean in g o f οβ ίννυμ ι is
broader than the diction ary translation suggests. T h e re feren ce is to q u e llin g
and sub duing an yth in g given to vigorous vital m ovem en t. I f this is rig h t
oßtcaai χόλον is not a m etaphor at all.
O dysseu s in H ades uses the sam e im age in u rg in g A ja x to u n b en d and
speak to him : λάμαοον &< /«Vor και άγήνορα θυμόν (xi. 5^2).
*’ F o r the distin ct but sim ilar notion o f re strain in g not the sw ellin g that
com es w ith anger but the dissipation that com es w ith fe ar, note Id o m e n e u s'
image o f the cow ard w hose θυμός cannot stay co m p ressed in o rd e r to p re v e n t
him frorrf flight, oilSc οι άτρίμας ηοθαι ίρ η τ ΰ ίτ ’ iv φρ<οΙ θυμός (ΧΙΙΙ. 28ο).
“ S im ila rly , there is fear that w h en P riam secs H e cto r dead he w ill not c u rb
his anger, χόλον ούκ Ιρϋοα ι » (χ χ ιν . 584)·
9 ** 7 /ir Language o f Thought and Life

sullenn css this is exactly what he docs, m astering and curbing

w hat is in his breast:
άλλα Tel μ<ν πρατίτνχΟαι iäooptv άχνύμτνοί nep,
θυμόν evi αττηΟτααι ψιλήν δαμάσανττς όι·άνκηι. (xvill. i 12_13)
In the Odyssey, this sam e restraint is characteristic o f the hero
T h u s O d ysseus says that if disaster strikes, he w ill control his
feelin gs:
τΛησομαι cv οτηθεσσιν Ζχιον TaXarrcvOca θυμόν, (ν. 222)
S im ila rly he restrains h im self from rash violence, φρ(σ ί Β'ίσχ( το
(xvii. 238); and the suitors are urged to do likewise, ίπ ίσ χ ΐτ«
θυμόν ίνιπής | καί χηρών (χχ. 206— j ) .
C o n v ersely, a person yields to the sw elling when overcome
b y excessive em otion, as when χόλος enters the chest and
sw am p s the thoughts. In this w ay N estor accuses Agam em non
o f cau sin g the W rath through his stubbornness, by yielding to
h is θυμός,
oi> Sc Quit μ τ γ α λ ή τ ο ρ ι θ ν μ ΰ ,ι
e “( a s ävSp a φ ίρ ισ τ ο ν , ον α θ ά να το ι nep c rtio a v ,
η τ ΐμ η σ α ς . ( i x . 1 0 9 —J l )

S im ila rly P h oen ix recounts how M eleager fought after indul­

gin g his passion,
ώς ό μcv Αΐτωλοϊαιν anrjpvvev κακόν ήμαρ,
eιζας cοι θνμιΐμ. (ΐΧ. 597“ ®)
In the sam e w ay, a wom an who yield s to lust is an Ουμύι «Γ^ασα
(v. 1 26), and those w ho are rash and greedy are νβρη <ΐ£αιτεί
(xiv. 262). A s A ch illes m oves deeper into w ildness and anger
this p sychological pattern is repeated in w hat A pollo says about
h is m istreatm en t o f the dead H ector:
<Li [sc. Αχιλήι] οΰτ' άρ φρ(ν€ς elotv (ναισιμοι ovre νόημα
γναμητόν ivi aτι) Oeoat, λ<ων δ' άυς άγρια oiöev,
Ss τ ’ inti άρ μεγάλοι re βίτ)ΐ κα! άγήνορι Ουμώι
etξας eia' ini μήλα βροτάιν . , . (XXIV. 4ο- 3)
T h e w rath fu l hero w ill not curb the idea or intention, νόημα, in
h is b reast, refusing to keep it bent or com pressed, γναμητόν:*'1

n With γναμητόν in Apollo’s speech compare ΐηιγνάμφααα φίλον κήρ (ι. 569),
 M ental Life and the Body 97

io say tlint he has yielded to his θ υ μ ό ς is to say that the liquids

flowing into his breast are filling it unchecked.

The stuff of thought alternately softens and coagulates

T his deepening and com pression o f what is in the breast leads
us to a further set o f im ages referrin g to the hardening and
softening o f the m ental apparatus. H ere the bloody wetness o f
the anatomical heart and the n eighbourin g innards m ust be the
basic anatom ical phenom enon. W eakness or yieldirfg, or sim ply
joy, is softness or m oistness in the breast. Penelope’s surrender
to grief and m isery is a m elting o f the θ υ μ ό ς :

w γνναι αίδοίη /Ιαίρτιάδίω Όαυσήος,

μηκίτι νυν χρόα καλόν ίναίρισ μ-ηδί τι θυμόν
τήκ( πόσιν γοό<υσα. (xix. 262—4; cf. III. 176)

The com m onest im age o f this kind is w ith ι α ίν ω , to m elt or

soften or make w arm :00 the θ υ μ ό ς m elts, t’atVerat, when jo y
comes after stubborn anger (see x x iv . 3 2 1 ; xv. 379, xx ii. 58-9,
etc.).01 T h is is the p ivo t o f a revealing sim ile during the

Hera repressing h er an ger in silen ce. A ls o h on o u r appeases m en, cjriyvci/urre«

νόον ίοϋλώ ν (IX. 5 14 ). T h e idea in γναμτττάς and γνάμιττω is o f som ething bent,
or capable o f b eing bent, back on itself: as o f lim b s (XI. 669, etc.), a fishing-
hook (iv. 3(19, xii. 3 3 2 ), and vessels o f cu rlin g shape, cAuca? (x v m . 4 0 1) . T h e
com pounds ιπιγνόμτττω , ιτΐριγνόμτττω, ΰι αγνάμτττω arc sim ilar in sense to the
sim ple ve rb . In p sych ological con texts γνό μ π τω and γναμπτός m ight arguab ly
be taken to refer to the redirection o f id eas u n d er p ersu asion , som ew hat as in
form ulae like o rpen rai μ ΐν re φ ρ ινις ΙοΡλιΖν (xv . 2 0 3 ; see b elow , pp. 12 3 - 4 ) ; but
every n o n -p sych ological in stan ce su ggests ben din g back rath er than bending
aw ay, and it is m ost accu rate as w ell as m ost suited to o u r argum ent to take the
psychological im age as one o f ben din g back, re strain in g, com pressin g (for this
view see also C h an train e S.V.).
w ιαίνω in n o n -p sych o lo gical con texts refers at once to heating and to
m elting or so ften in g: bronze (v iii. 4 26), w ater (x. 3 5 9 ). w a x (xii. 17 s ) ; also
the u n fu rro w in g o f the b ro w o f a w orried person (x v . 10 2 —3).
T h is w ould co rro b o rate C h a n tra in c's view (s.v . Ιαίνω), shared b y F risk ,
that the dom inant m eaning ‘ êch auffer, am ollir p ar la ch alcu r' stem s from an
(original) sense ‘ s 'a g ite r, sc ré p e n d re '. L atacz (19 6 6 : 220 —3 3 1 ) develops this
view o f ιαίνω and d em on strates that its application to em otional activity is not
a m etaphor but the d escrip tio n o f a real pro cess im agined as happening in the
θυμός.
q 8 The Language of Thought and L ife
Funeral G am es, when M enelaus' anger is appeased by recom ­
pense and apology: 1
to to S i θυμ ός
!ά ι·θη ω ς t l r t n t p i σταχόίσσι«· iepenj
Arjtou αλδτ^ οκοντος, 6r t φ ρ ιο ο ο υ α ιν άρονραι*
ώ ς άρα σ ο($ Λ/ο'<λα«# / u r d φ ρ *οι Ονμος (άνθη. (Χ ΧΙΠ . S 97-f>oo)
. · · · *
H ere, it seem s, the m oist rain or dew is thought o f as softening ,
and becom ing part o f the ripening and sw elling cars,91 ju st ns ~
the passing-aw ay o f anger is the m elting o f the thought-stuff.94
On the sam e basis a consolation or m itigation o f unhappiness is
θ α λ π ω ρ ή (vt. 4 1 2, X . 2 2 3 , i. 16 7 ), a w arm ing o f the innards, the
noun being cognate w ith the verb θ ά λ π ω .95
T h e exactly opposite process is named when M enelaus,
w ithd raw ing from the fray before a redoubled onslaught, is
.
likened to a lion repelled from a farm stead by armed men:
τού S ’ i f φ ρ ί α ί ν ά λ κ ι μ ο ν Ί Τ°Ρ
ττa γ τ ο ϋ τ α ι , a t x a ju S t τ ’ ΐ β η αττό μ ς ο σ α ν λ ο ισ. (χνιι. 1 1 1 —i ζ)

Η is m ental apparatus is in the state o f πάχτη, frosty frozen rain

or dew . T h e easy parallel with En glish expressions like ‘ frosty-
O n the p sych o lo gical situ ation from w hich this im age arises, see Tnplin
(10 9 2 ). 2 5 6 - 7 .
,J R ich ard so n ad loc. suggests that the d ro p s are im agined as evaporating
T h is w ould w eaken the sim ile, as ια ίν ω w ould no longer link the im age of lire 1 ··
dew w ith w hat is h ap p en in g to M e n e lau s: anger m ight ‘ evaporate’ in English,
but if so m ethin g like the sam e thing happened to a θ υ μ ό ς in G reek it would
m ean that the m an sw oon ed or becam e fain t (see C h . 5 , p p . 13 9 —43). Hom eric
rain or d ew is a life -g iv in g sub stan ce, τ ίθ α λ ν ϊα ϋ ρ σ η (xiii. 2 45), and the
droplets fallin g on the h a iry beard fertilize and ripen and m ake m oist what it ,
w ithin. O n the sim ile see also T n p lin (19 9 2 ). 2 S 7 n . 1 1 . and on the fertilizing : f
character o f dew sec B o cd e k e r (19 8 4 ), p a s s im . In early G ree k the m ost striking . i;
evocation o f the idea is A e sc h y lu s' im age w hen C lytaem n estra, rejoicing in the
spatterin g o f d rops o f b lood fro m A gam e m n o n ’s w ound, com pares herself to -
the crop rejo icin g in the fall o f d ew o r rain w hen the sheath is in its birth _
p an gs: χ α tpovoav ouSiv ijaaou yj διοσδοτωι | y a m οττορητος κάΑυκοϊ tv λοχίυμαστν
(A g . 1 3 9 1 - 2 ) . -
^ In p o st-H o m e ric literature τ ί γ γ ω appears in the sam e sense: to m ake the
p sych ological ap p aratu s m oist is to appease, placate, in d u ce gentle feelings
(c g P V 10 0 8 ; E u r . H i p p . 3 0 3 : A r . L y t . 550)· T h e p rin cip le is the sam e as
w hen w in e m oisten s the lu ngs and creates feelings o f bonhom ie: rryyt
π λ α 'μ ο ια ς otVcm (A lca e u s fr . 347 P)· S e c also E p ilo gu e, p. 289.
45 C h an train e s .v . (v*
 Alciilal L ife and the Body 99

hearted’ docs not help: so far as I know H om er now here else

imagines the mental apparatus as cold,'"' and it would be an odd
metaphor as well as an anatom ical im possibility if that w ere the
idea here. T h e clue, as often, com es from a glance at the root
behind πάχνη, w hich is the sam e as in the verb ττηγνυμι, to stick
fast or make stiff.1' 7 T h u s H om er says that in cheese-m aking
fig-juice curdles and solidifies, αυνίττηξιν, the m ilk to w hich it is
added (v. 902). Since what determ ines the m eaning o f πάχνη is
not so m uch the coldness as the stiffness o f the thickened
liquid, this suggests that when the m ental apparatus παχνούται,
its ebbing liquid coagulates and solidifies. T h is is then the
exact reverse o f the m an's experience when he yield s to
placation so that his mental apparatus m elts and is liquefied,
ΐάνΟη. T h e only other instance o f παχνόω in this sense neatly
illustrates the contrast: H esiod describes a th ief as experien cin g
some negative em otion, w hich (πάχναισΐν φίλον ητορ {IV D 360),
and contrasts this with one who gives freely and rejoices, χαίρ<ι
τιϋι Sótpoji και τΐμπίται ΰν κατά. Ονμάν (35^)·
** A rg u ab ly an exception is throw n up b y the verb piyiiu, w h ich tran slates
os 'I fear" but also refers in som e w ay to cold n ess— the co m b in atio n is n eatly
borne out by the cognate adjective in the com p arative fo rm piyiov, in d e te r­
minately translated as 'co ld er' and ‘m ore to be fe are d ' (x v ii. 1 9 1 , w ith 1. 3 2 s ,
XI. 405. e tc.; see C hantraine s .v ,, and com p are the L a tin cogn ates frig u s,
Jrigto). W hat, then, docs Lu ertes m ean w hen he says αί«ι μοι θυμ ό; . . . ip p ly ti
(xxiii. a i6 ), referrin g to long forebo din g? T h e lin k b etw een the tw o sen ses is
usually taken to be the idea o f sh udderin g: w hen 1 piyitu 1 sh rin k aw ay w ith a
shiver, either because 1 am cold o r because I am afraid . I f this is rig h t, the
sim ilarity to ητορ παχνούται is m erely su p erficial, because the tw o v e rb s arc
associated w ith coldness in quite d ifferent w ays. A b etter p aralle l fo r L a e r te s '
experience is pro vid ed by exp ressio n s like τρομι'οντο Sr o! <j>p<vts Ιυτός (x . 10 ),
where the q u iverin g o r shaking is that o f the p h ysical act o f g ro an in g and
smhing (see C h . 5, p p. 13 9 -4 0 ). In this last exam p le , w h en the m ental
reparatus q u ivers the em otion in qu estion is one o f co n tin u ed fe ar and
mental trouhle over an extended space o f tim e, ju s t as in the ease o f L a e r te s '
dread, w hereas in the παχνούται sim ile the lio n 's e xp erien ce m u st be o f som e
more sad d en and volatile em otion. O u tsid e the H o m e ric a m b it, S a p p h o has
vi/pot ly r v r 'o θυμός (42. I L - P ) . ap p aren tly d e scrib in g fear felt b y d o v es. H ere
the idea o f coldness is clearly presen t, cith er as un exten sio n o f the ijrop
παχνούται idea or by tran sference from the idea o f the e x p u lsio n o f ψυχή us cold
br” ,h *sec C h · 5. PP- «44^ 7)·
" See C hantraine s.v . H om er docs not p ro vid e nn e xam p le o f πήμνυμι fo r
the freezing o f w ater, but it is com m on later: see A csch . P e n . 496; A lca e u s
338. a L - P , etc.
” Aeschylus has Electra describe hcrclf when she weeps as κρυφαίοις
ΙΟΟ
The Language o f Thought and L ife
S te rn or u n flin ch in g em otion is a further extrem e o f h ard­
ness and rig id ity , a conception that is w rit large in Paris'
com p ariso n o f H e c to r’s m ental apparatus to an axe:
n «fi τ ο ι κ ρ α δ ίη , rr«A«ictic üj ?, ta rn · ά τ η ρ η ς ,
os τ t ια ιν δ ια δ ο υ ρ ο ς ι»π’ rlirpos, ós ρά r t r ^ n j i
njCoi· ΐ κ τ ά μ κ η ισ ιν , ό φ ( λ \ ΐΐ δ ’ όν&ρος ip w -ήν
ω ϊ σο* ° ' 1 στήθίααιν άτάρβητος t'tios Ιατίν. (lil. 60—3)

It is b ecau se his m ental state is άτάρβητος, n ever to be fright­

en ed , that w h at is in his breast is άταρης, n ever w orn aw ay or
red u ced : co n trast w ith this the idea that debilitating pains arc
those that w ear aw ay at a w ounded person’ s m ental apparatus,
α ΐμ ιν Tcipovai κατα φρίνας (xv. 6 1). T h e idea is sim ilar when the
θυμός, η τop, or κραδίη o f a stern or unyielding person is
d escrib ed as a thin g o f iron, σιδήρεος (see x x u . 357 , x x iv . 205,
iv. 2 9 3 , V. 1 9 1 , x x iii. 17 2 ), and when the μόνος o f a fierce fighter
is likened to iron , αίθιυνι αιδήρωι (xx. 372; sim . xii. 279— 80).100
Ju s t as P e n elo p e’ s em otional collapse w as a m elting o f the
θυμός, so co n v ersely T elem a ch u s com plains that her κραδίη is
h ard er than stone, στίριιυτόρη . . . λίθοιο (xxiii. 10 3), when she
hesitates b efore y ield in g to O dysseus. T h e hero h im self later
d escrib es h er m ental apparatus as a κήρ άτίραμνον (xxiii. 167),
and the ad jectiv e again em bodies the root seen in Tcipcu: the
stu ff o f h er thought cannot be w orn down, m elted, or dis­
s ip a te d .""
■ nivBioiv ίτοχί'ουμόα (C lio . S i —3): here the ‘ th icken in g’ appears to b e w hat
fo llo w s fro m th e g o rg in g o f her m ental apparatu s w ith grie f.
m I urn not su re that th ere is an y need fo r the m ore com p lex und ullusive
exp lan atio n s th at h ave b ee n offered for this im age (sec M ou lton ( 19 7 7 ) . 9 1.
an d K ir k ad lo c.).
100 T h is in te rp retatio n o f αιδήριος is v e ry tentative, because oth er uses o f the
w o rd sh ow that the asso ciation s o f iron in H o m e r’s w orld are u tterly different
fro m those it h o ld s in o u rs: the force o f fire ( x x i i i . 17 7 ), the up roar o f battle
( X V I I . 4 24 ), and the sky (x v . 3 2 9 = x v ii. 565) arc all 01 Sijprof in senses that
can n o t now b e clarifie d .
101 1 am g ra te fu l to T . M e issn e r fo r p oin tin g out this exp lan ation o f
άτΙραρνος to m e. W e can also com pare the less e asily visualized im ages with
ibrm’rjr, w h ich p e rh a p s refers to hard ness w hen it d escribes the θυμός or w5or o f
an o v erb e a rin g o r stu b b o rn person (xv. 94, xxiii . 484, 6 1 1 ; x v iii. 3 8 1 , x x iii. 97,
2 3 0 ). N o te e sp ec ially x v i. 3 3 - 3 . w h ere Patroclus rails against A ch ille s’
stu b b o rn n e ss: he d e scrib e s him h y p crb o lically as the ch ild o f the sea and
the se a -c liffs, on the gro u n d s that he has a vóór άττηυής. M a n y hove analysed
 Alental L ife and the Body IOI

In folly the stuff of thought is dispersed

If passionate and deeply felt thought and em otion is a deepen­
ing and thickening o f what is in the breast, the converse follows
that the thoughts o f the fool are loose and dissipated, with the
breast em ptied o f its concentrated stuiT.,1>J A light-headed or
dispirited person has w h olly or partly lost what is in his breast:
where the wise man is ègéφρων (see esp. xiii. 332 ) his opposite is
άφρων1"3or αφρονί'ωκ (xv. 104) or ήΟυμος (x. 463) or has an άφρων
θυμός (xxi. 105), ju st as when H ecuba thinks Priam has fallen
into folly and she asks w here his φρίνις have gone to, m)i Βή τοι
φρΐνις οΐχονται; (xxiv. 2 θ ΐ) .,Μ It is possible, if no m ore, that the
adjective άκήριος expresses the same phenomenon as the
absence o f κήρ.'"* S im ilarly, the mental substance o f the fool
απηνής as referring in its proper sense to the person as a w hole rather than to
their m ental apparatus, m aking it an im age o f avertin g the face, άπ·ηνης from
•óroï, rjrot, "face*. S e e L J g r E s .v .; C han train e is unconvinced by this. T h e key
passage for this w ord is the speech w here Penelope contrasts the reputation o f
an απηνής person w ith that o f one w ho is άμΰμων (xix. 3 2 9 -3 4 ): hut the latter
word rem ains as difficult as the fo rm er (cf. A . A . P a rry (19 7 3 ), 1 to —16 ). Blanc
(19 8 s) associates o n jxijs w ith άναινομαι and takes it to refer to refusal or
unwillingness to co-operate.
103 O n folly as loss o f φρίνςς see esp, S n ell (19 7R ), 6 2 -9 .
105 άφρων (in . 220 , IV . 10 4 , V. 7 6 1 , 8 7 5, X V I. 842; v i. 18 7 . viii. 209, x v ii. 586,
XX. 227 , xxi. 10 2 , 10 5 , xxiii. 12 ) and άφρααύνη (v. 1 to; xvi. 2 78 . x x iv . 4 57) refer
to folly rather than cow ardice.
|lM N ote, h ow ever, that the difficult expression τώ · St φρΐνat άφρονν ntiOtv
(tv. 104, x v i. 842) w ill not m ake sense if άφρων m eans that the φρίνςς are
em pty: the m eaning m ust rather be that the activity is not proceeding in them ,
the person is not φρονίων (see above, n. 53 ).
,os F e ar is Slot irijp io v (v. 8 1 2 , 8 17 , x i i i . 224) and feeble and im m obile men
are dwijpuu (v u . too), as are sailors in peril from the m onster Sc ylla (x. 98,
xxiii. 328). I f άκήριος is to be taken from <njp rather than κήρ (on this am biguity
see L J g r E s.v. dnjpto;), then the adjective is presum ably form ed b y prefixing
ά- privative to the noun. I f this is righ t, in each o f these instances it refers to
the loss or dissipation o f κήρ as the stu ff o f thought. H ow ever, w hen it is said
that the blow o f a w eapon w ill m ake a m an άκήριον (xi. 39 2, sim . x x i. 466) this
must m ean that it w ill make him dead. Both one w ho dies and one who
becom es breathless w ilh fear could be said to lack θυμός, so that if we attribute
a sim ilar m eaning to the lack o f κήρ all our instances o f άκήριος w ill make good
sense. O ther early attestations (H es. I VO 8 2 3 ; h. M erc. 530; Sem on idcs, fr. 4
W) cannot easily be fitted to the sam e pattern, so the word remains obscure:
some at least o f the instances m ust be form ed with intensive d (< *srp) or with
κήρ, or both.
102 The Language of Thought aud Life
is lo o se n e d and re le a se d and le ft sla ck : he is χ α λ ίφ ρ ω ν or
χ α λ ιφ ρ ο ν ίω ν ΟΓ f u l l o f χ α λ ιφ ρ ο σ ύ ν η ( i \ \ 3 7 I , X v i . 3 1 0 , XIX. 530,
x x iii. 1 3 ) ; ,0Λ d u l l - w i t t c d n c s s or im m a tu rity len d s to th in ,
in s u b s t a n t i a l t h o u g h t , λ ί π η ) μ ή τ ις (x. 226, x x iii. 590), a n d t h e
lu n g s o f a rash y o u n g m a n a r c d is t e n d e d a n d flo a tin g , φ ρ ίν ις
(ill. 1θ 8 ).,Π7
η ιρ ϊθ ο ν τ α ι
Likew ise, in cowardice and m isery the stu ff o f thought
becom es diffuse and insubstantial. T h e sim plest form o f this
is in indecision, when it is divided in two directions, δαι'ίται
η τ ο ρ (i. 48; above, pp. 65—6), but the experience o f sustained
grief and m isery is sim ilar, as when O dysseus describes him self
as aid φ ρ ι α ί ν τ μ ο ιν ίχ α ι ν δ ι δ α ϊ γ μ ί ν ο ν η τ ο ρ (xiii. 320).'°* M ore
violently, in grief and sham e and such negative emotions the
mental apparatus is shattered, κ α τ ικ λ ά σ θ η φ ίλ ο ν η τ ο ρ (iv. 4 81,
x. 198, etc.); the one who grieves is breaking it up, θ υ μ ό ν
( ρ ό χ θ ω ν (v. 8 3 = 1 5 7 ) or he rends it apart, θ υ μ ό ν ά μ ΰ σ ο ι ι
(l. 2 4 3 );,,,υ and by dism aying another person one scatters it
apart in confusion, θ υ μ ό ν S p iv e (11. 14 2 ; sim . v. 29, ix. 595,
X X IV . 585, e tc .)."" Note also the perfect ό ρ ώ ρ ΐ τ α ι, which is

lo* \aAi<i>poi'<ujv is derivet! from χαλαρό; in α G aland fo rm , em bodying the

root seen in χαΛάω: see R isch (19 7 4 ) . § 79 .
IU7 verb js related to öcfpu>: on the fo rm see K irk ad toe. K irk calls this
phrase 'n b rillian t m etaphor’ , but the im agery is not unusual.
,0* δαΓζω m eans ’ rend apart’ , os w hen a m an ’ s garm ents are rent b y an
attacker (11. 4 1b , x v i. 8 4 1) or the m an him self is cut open (xi. 497, xvtti. 23Γ1,
etc.); sim ilarly , us one rends the hair in g rie f (x v m . 27) or cuts meat into
portions (x iv . 4 34). (C f. C h ey n s (19 7 9 : 6 0 5 -7 ) for discussion o f these
passages.) T w ic e the w ords <δαΓζ«το Θυμός refer to doubt and confusion ■
w hich is com pared to stpiulls at sea (ix. 8 = x v . 629); but at x iv . 2 0 -3 the
verb seem s to refer sim p ly to dou btin g and indecision betw een alternatives,
w ith the ij . construction usual fo r μτρμηρΐζαν. W ithin the sem antic
range o f this ve rb , hesitation and anguish m ight be seen as tw o form s o f the .
sam e m ental d isarray . N ote also that one su fferin g the anguish of a m ortal
b low is Β ίόα ϊγμτιος ητορ (xvtt. 5 3 5 ): it is hard to tell w hether this refers only to
the p h ysical piercin g o f his b elly (xvtt. 5 1 8 —19) o r also to his m ental woe.
ttrt F o r the m eaning o f αμνοοιυ note its ap plication to the action o f tearing or
b eating the breast in g rie f (x ix . 284): the visib le m anifestation o f the em otion
co rresp o n d s exactly to what happens inside.
no T h c cxac( o f (JpiVoi is illustrated from n on -psychological contexts:
storm rouses the se a to tem pest ( 11. 2 9 4 , XI. 29 s . etc.), a rive r rouses itself to
flood (XXI. 2 3 5 , 3 1 3 ) , soldiers scatter in Might (ix. 2 4 3, etc.), and the suitors
scatter b efo re O d ysse u s' w rath (xxii. 2 3 , 360). B oth C han train e and Frisk
(s.v .) suggest that it is related sem an tically to thc cognate Sp n -μι in the sense
 Mental Life and the Body 103

closely tied to optvui:1** the breath o f thought is broken up and

scattered by w orries, opwpcrat tvSoOi θυμός | /ojSeutv (xix· 377—
8), just as it is divided by sorrow and indecision, ίμοι δ»χα θυμός
ο ρ ώ ρ ίτ α ι tvO a κ α ί ίν Ο α (xix. 524)· M isery and fear churn up what
is in the hreast, airyyti θυμόν ( ix. 6 1 2 , XIII. 8 0 8, etc.) so that
thoughts are thrown into disarray, νόος χότα (X X IV . 35°)·
Sim ilarly terror or distraction is the loss o f m ental substance,
as when a hero is killed and his charioteer, frozen in terror, has
the contents o f his φρίνςs knocked out o f him:
«V h i οl -ηνίοχος π λ ή γ η Φ ρ ίνα ς. <ΐΐ π ό ρ ο ς <ιγΟ ’,
οΰδ* ό γ %i τό λ μ η ο ςν , δ-ηΐνυν υπό χ * ΐρ α ς α λ υ ζα ς ,
άφ ίπ π ο υ ς σ τ ρ ίφ α ι.
(X III. 394- 6 ; s im . χ ν ι . 4° 3“ 4 . x v i l i . z z s )

Again, Paris the coward has his mental apparatus struck dow n
out of him, κατίπλ-ήγη φίλου τρτορ (n i. 3 1 ) when he shrinks from
the Achaean host, and when T elem achu s cannot think d eep-
breathed thoughts it is because the suitors have brou ght on the
same loss of mental substance in him :
αΛΑά τοι ou δύ να μ α ι m m ayicV a Train· a v o rja a r
ί κ y a p μ* 77λι)σα ουαι π α ρ ή μ € νοι α λλοΟίν αΛΛο?
o*5c κα κ ά ^poktoiTCi . . . (xviii. 231~2)
In cflect they have m entally winded him and em ptied his
breast.

'rouse up* rather than 'scatter*; ou r non -psych ological exam p le s in vo lv e both
actions. See also C asw ell (19 9 0 : 4 8 -9 . 53“ 5). sh ow in g that èplvit» is u se d in
sim ilar w ays o f sea, w in d, and θνμνς.
' 1 On the link betw een opuipnm and d/nVui, sec R ix (19 6 5 ); C h a n tra in e , a.v,
&p(w\ Hisch (1974 )· § 1 20c.
1 ‘ In this connection the verb οχ<ναι also gives us pause: on e w ho g rie v e s or
i' Jirrna\eel is Ονμον α χινίνν (v. S69, XVIII. 4 6 1, etc.) or ούνρομινος καί αχιύω ν
(xx:v ia S , etc.). N o context gives a clear in dication o f the asso ciatio n s o f this
verb, other than that it is ch aracteristic o f g rie f, and it is n o rm ally an aly sed as a
derivation from αχοί (sec C h an train e s .v .; F ris k s .v .). H o w e v e r, it is hnrd to
believe that χ ίω in its psychological sense is not som ehow asso ciated w ith it in
H om eric practice: con sider esp. the close con son ance b etw een the tw o in the
line μή μοι α υ γ χ ΰ θυμόν ό&υρόμίνος καί άχίόαιν (ιχ . 6 |2 ) . In addition χώ ομιιι, as
in χ ο ^ μ ,ν ο , κηρ (ι. 44. IX. 55*; *» - 376). is o b scu re in p recise m ean in g but
clearly refer» to anger or m ental turm oil in gen eral; since an tiq u ity it has b een
associated w ith x«w (sec C h an train e s .v .; F ris k s .v .; and c f. A d k in s (10 6 0 )
 104 The Language o f Thought and Life
W hen this spreading and dissipation lead to the expulsion of
the stu ff o f thought from the breast, the experience can be
made m anifest as sighing or groaning, φρίνςς shake with fear,
ίπτοίηθΐν (xxii. 298), and they are made to trem ble when a man
groans out in m isery:
aif rrvKiv tv ατηΟισσιν αιαοτ^νάχιζ* 'ΛγαμΙμ,νων
v€io8cv ( k κρα&ιηςt zpoptovro 8( 01 ^pó’cy ότο?.
(x. 9 -10; cf. XV. 627)
In the sam e w ay, when Penelope plans to make the suitors fear
her, her hope is to m ake their θυμός expand and dissip ate;1*^
όπως ττ£τασ£ΐ£_£ΐπλιστπ
Ου/ιον |ΐη)οτήριιιι· . . . (xviii. 160-1)
The verb that m ight elsew here be translated ‘ make to flutter’ or
‘m ake to fly ’ m ust refer here to the escape o f θυμός expelled
from the m outh in a g r o a n " 4— ju st as when an animal groans in
death its θυμός flies aw ay, από δ ’ όττατο θυμός (x. i6 3 = xix. 454,
C b . 5, pp. 15 2 -3 ). T w ic e , this conception creates a strikingly
extended im age. A gam em non, describing his own fear, says
that his breast has been em ptied and his κραδίη has leapt out
o f him :
oi'Ol pot i)Top
ΐμπςδον, αλλ' άλαλόκτημαι, κηα&ι'τ) Sr μοι tfut
στηθίοο· in 0pwtOK<t. (X. 93“ S)
S im ila rly the th o u gh t-stu ff o f frightened men falls at their feet:
τάρβησαν, πάοιr Si πapat ποσί κάππ€θ€ θυμός. (xv. 2S0)
T h e breath o f thought is expelled, vanishes, falls aw ay: the
im age takes no liberties with what fear is literally conceived
to be.
In this w ay the phenom ena o f fear and light-headedness are
the opposite o f the m ental inhalation indicated by πίπννσθαι.
T h e prin cipal bodily phenom enon is breathless gasping, but it

1,1 Ja s p e r G riffin suggests to m e that her (or A th e n a's) intention is rather to

m ak e the su ito rs e ro tically inflam ed, to place a h ig h er value u pon her. T h e
s to ry -lin e is con sisten t w ith this: but the verb used is one w h ich seem s
d efin itely to stand for con fu sion and m ental d issipation.
1,4 S e e R u sso ad loc.
 M ental L ife and the Body 1 05
is accom panied by the accelerated beating o f the heart. T h e two
phenomena need not be sharply distinguished, as the verbs
π α τ ά σ σ ε ι and ττβλλίτat w ill suggest. F irst, consider Idom eneus’
description o f a cow ard in battle: *
l v S i Tf o f KpaSn) μ εγά λ α σ τ ίρ ν α ια ι π α τ ά σ σ ει
Η-ήρας ό ϊο μ έ ν ιο ι, π ά τ α γ ο ς δε' Τί γ ί γ ν ε τ ' άδόντω ν. (ΧΙΠ . 282—3)
Mis heart knocks against the wall o f his breast. Sim ilarly
Hector is daunted:
“Ε κ τ ο ρ ι δ ’ α ν τ ώ ι Ονμάς ενι arijO eoai π ά τα σ σ εν ι
(νπ. 2ΐ6; sim. χχ ιιι. 37°)
Front our own language it m ight be natural to refer πατάσσει to
the rapid beating o f the heart and to distinguish that sharply
from the behaviour o f breath in the lungs. H ow ever, H om eric
evidence suggests that those two are inextricably m erged.
When M elantho m ockingly tells the disguised O dysseus that
if he is not drunk he is φρένας εκπεπαταγμενος (xviii. 3 2 7 —32),
she is suggesting that he is a fool or a m adm an: the participle
can only mean that his φρένες arc em ptied o f mental substance,
in other w ords that his breast is em ptied o f the breath o f
thought.115 S im ila rly, when A ndrom ache grow s weak with fear
she describes her ητορ as risin g and qu iverin g in her throat:
ei* Ö c/ioi a v n ji
ατΎ/θεοι π ά λ λ ε τ α ι rjrop den σ τ ό μ α , νερΟε 8ε γο ύ να
π ή γ ν υ τ α ι. (ΧΧΜ. 45 «~3)
We should not be m isled b y the superficial resem blance o f
A ndrom ache’s w ords to the En glish hyperbole ‘ her heart is in
her m outh’ . A s she rushes out she is quivering within,
παλλομειτη κραδίην (χ χ π . 4 fn ), and finally she gasps out her
breath, φνχη, in a swoon (466-7). N o w πάλλω in non­
psychological language is the action o f agitating som ething
and scattering it a b ro ad :116 clearly, then, what she experiences
F or ancient su ggestio n s o f su ch an in terpretation see R u sso ad loc.
14 wóAAu» is a difficu lt v e rb w ith no En glish equivalent. It appears m ost
often w hen one flourishes o r b ran d ish es u m issile w eapon prior to throw ing it
(111. 19, XXII. 320, etc., o f sp ears; v. 304, o f a stone); when a mun dandles n
b aby in his arm s VI. 474), and p o ssib ly w hen one trips u p and stum bles
(ιτάΛτο, XV. 645). B a c k w a rd -fo rw a rd agitation is evid en tly the com m on factor.
T h e clearest in d icator o f its m ean in g is in the castin g o f lots, w here ττάΛΛιν is
io6 The Language o f Thought and L ife
is a trem bling or knocking in the breast w hich leads d irectly to
the flow o f the stu ff o f thought out o f her lungs. Because this
stu ff is the scat o f m ental life it follow s that after its escape she
collapses on the ground: through different levels the d im in u­
tion o f m ental substance in terror shades into the loss of
consciousness itself, w hich w e w ill consider in the next chapter.

Homeric psychology is a seamless garment

W e have seen that H o m er's understanding o f thought and
em otion revolves around a close-knit group o f phenom ena:
the ebb and flow o f breath, the flow o f fluids into and out o f the
breast, and the soft liquid ity o f the organs around and below
the lungs. I f m y explanations o f individual w ords and passages
have seem ed plausible, the overall analysis should confirm the
h ypothesis that the H om eric ‘ m in d ’ is the sam e thing as the life
o f physical substan ces in the breast. W e can now return to the
problem posed at the begin nin g o f this chapter, when w e saw
that this kind o f account o f H om eric p sychology runs the risk
o f seem ing intolerably cru de and naïve. It turns out that it is a
little less than the whole truth to say baldly and bluntly that
<f>pevcs arc the lungs and θ υ μ ό ς is the air in them. A lthough the
mental apparatus is tied to what is literally and solidly in the
chest, it is not lim ited or constrained by that dependence, and
the system is sub tle, exp ressive, and self-consistent in a way
that has no parallel in the ju m b led and allusive im ager}' o f the
m ind that characterizes our m odern languages. T h e clarity and
elegance o f the system w as illustrated m ost clearly by the
W rath o f A ch illes and its afterm ath, where every nuance o f
his and A g am em n o n ’s changing em otional states was expressed
in term s o f the alternate sw ellin g and dissipation o f χόλο? and
kindred em otional fluids. Because we have been able to fit every

the action o f the on e w h o shakes the helm et con taining the lots: they w hirl
round in sid e , and one o f them leups out ( ill. 3 2 4—5> v l *· 1 8 1 —2. etc.). 1 he
co m b in atio n o f vib ra tin g and leapin g out e xactly co rresp o n d s to the im age in
o u r p sych o lo g ical p assages, w here the rapid beating o f the heart goes w ith the
gasp in g out o f b re ath . O n the com b in ation o f v ib ratin g and leaping out, sec
C h an train e s .v .; and on the p sych ological im ager)·, cf. O nians ( 1 9 5 1) , 50. O n
the d ifficu lt πάλτο in x v . 6 4 s, w h ich m ay be fro m the rare verb ιταΑ«ω, see
Ja n k o ad lo c .; also a stran ge d issection b y L e u m an n (19 5 0 : 6 0 -4).
 M ental L ife and the Body io 7
significant fragm ent o f description applied to the θυμός fam ily
into the sam e process o f inhalation, ebb and flow , liq u e fy in g
nnd coagulation, we can accept that the system is com plete,
self-sufficient, and ind ivisible: and when m ental life and the life
o f these organs arc in separably bound up together, it is
pointless to ask w here one stops and the other begins.
T h is being so, questions like ‘ W hat is the m eaning o f θυμόςr
arc only half-answ ered if we consider the w ord itse lf in
isolation from the patterns o f description in w hich the w hole
conception o f θυμός is brought to birth. It w ould-be especially
m isleading to say that these patterns are m etaphorical, that
they are a feature o f poetic creativity rather than o f abidin g
id e a s ."' A n y m etaphor w orthy o f the nam e in volves a tran sfer
o f im agery, a yoking-together o f things that in them selves are
imagined to be d is t in c t."8 In H om er, m etaphors in this strict
sense are surprisin gly thin on the groun d , and they fall into
two classes: either form ulaic images ro u gh ly equivalen t to
epithets, or m ore extended flourishes that n early alw ays
appear in speeches. In both types there is an o b vio u s g u lf
between the m etaphorical im age and the thing to w hich it is
com pared, and apprehension o f the m eaning depen d s on
recognizing a structural analogy between them . In p rin cip le
it is alw ays possible that as a m etaphor is developed its im age
1,7 F o r ou r argum ent on this point see also P ad el (19 9 2 ). csji. 9—i t . P ad el
em phasizes the need to break d ow n the m odern d istin ctio n b etw een literal and
m etaphorical before ap p roach in g the ancient p sych o lo gical vocabulary* (b u t cf.
n. y(> above). A closely sim ilar pro blem has been ad d ressed in an in te re stin g
way in biblical scholarship, w h e re there is n atu rally a p a rticu la rly p re ssin g
need to distingu ish figurative lan guage front the n o n -fig u ra tiv c essen ce o f
thought and belief. F o r usefu l discussion s o f areas o f language— in clu d in g
p sychology— in w hich such d istinction becom es im p o ssib le , see in p a rticu la r
F s r ’-er (19 7 2 ). and C aird (19 8 0 ), e sp .6 4 -8 .
In the ahsencc o f a fu ll-le n gth stu d y o f H o m e ric m e ta p h o r, th e m o st
useful is M oulton (19 7 ·)): also E d w a rd s (19 8 7 ), 1 1 1 - 1 3 ; ( 1 9 9 1 ) . 4 8 - 5 3 . T h e
principal earlier d iscussions o f G re e k m etaph or arc M . P a r r y ( 19 7 1 [ 1 9 3 3 ] ) ,
Stan ford (19 3 6 ). F o r general p u rp o ses, the theoretical d isc u ssio n o f B lack
( 1955) serves as a good w arn in g against the fallacy o f try in g to u n d erstan d
single m etaphors as isolated verbal tricks d istin ct from th e su b stan ce o f p oetic
ideas. S ee also K itta y (19 8 9 ). eh. 1 . for a su rv e y o f ap p ro ach es. In te ractio n in
m etaphorical im agery in p o st-H o m e ric ve rse is stu d ied at length b y S ilk
O 974). e ip . 3- 5<>· H is treatm ent is not d irectly relevan t h ere, as his con cern is
u thCc c s ,8nificance’ o f m etaphors in th e ir im m ediate co n text rather
thnn w ith broader system s o f im age-m akin g (see esp, 4).
,o 8 The Language a f Thought and L i/e
can be d raw n into the depiction o f the thing to w hich it is
ap p lied , so that the tw o becom e o rgan ically fused, but in
practice interactive m etaphors o f this kind arc alm ost unknown
in H o m e r.1 ' In the first gro u p , for exam p le, w hen the w a r­
lead er at the head o f his host is called the shepherd o f the
peo ple, ττοιμό α λαών (c.g. l. 26 3, π . 85), or w hen fertile A rgo s is
called the u d d er o f the plain, οι,θαρ άροΰρ?}? (ix. 14 t —283; sim .
h. Cer. 450 ), alon gsid e the precise parallel there is a clear
o verall con trast betw een the narrative im age and its m etaphor­
ical tw in , b etw een the tenor and the vehicle .'20 In a particular
e x am p le the latter m ay d raw on associations w hich elsewhere
com e to ligh t u n d er different form s, m ost o b viously in sim iles,
b u t the m etap h o r itse lf rem ains an excrescen ce in its con text.111
T h e p rin cip le is the sam e in m etaphors o f the m ore creative or
rh eto rical ty p e , as fo r exam ple when H ector threatens the
d an dified P aris that if he w ere put to death in punishm ent
O n ly o n ce in H o m e r is an exp lic it m etaphor d eveloped at length in this
w a y . In a sp eech u rg in g that the w a rrio rs he fed b efore they go to battle,
O d y sse u s lik en s w ar to h arv e st: α,φά n ^iiAdmoot fff.lrrai κόρος άνθρώπο,σ,ν. | ης
τ ι η λ ιϊο τ η ν μ ΐ ν καλά μην χΟονΐ χαλκός ΐ χ ιν ιν , | αμητός 5' όλϊγίατος. ΐπήν κλίνη,σι
τάΑαι*τα 1 Ζ ιν ς , ός τ ' ανθρώπων ταμίης παλιμοιο τιτυ κ τα , (χ ιχ . 2 2 1 —4)* Although
the e xact co rre sp o n d e n c es are d isp u ted , it is clear that several links arc being
d ra w n at the snm e tim e: the καλάμη strew n on the ground is parallel with the
falle n w a rrio rs , the b ro n ze o f the reap in g-h ooks w ith the bronze o f weapons,
an d so o n . T h u s arg u m e n t seem s to be pro ceed in g through m etaphor. On
th ese an d o th e r p o ssib le co rresp on d en ces in the m etaphor sec C om beltack
(10 8 4 ) and M o u lto n 0979- 2 8 4 -5 ), review ed b y E d w a rd s ad loc.
1.0 T h e s e te rm s fram e d b y I. A R ich a rd s are h e lp fu lly adapted to early
G r e e k e x a m p le s b y S ilk ( i 97-t). 3“ _
1.1 A strik in g cxn m plc o f such in teraction on the local scale is the passage in
w h ich the m etap h o rical im aße νίφος . . ■ π ιζώ ν is im m ediately follow ed b y a
sim ile lik e n in g the ad v an cin g arm y and their w aitin g foes to a storm -clou d and
a te rrifie d farm e r o b se rv in g its ad van ce (IV. 2 7 4 -8 2 ). M o re distan tly, the
fo rm u la ic m e ta p h o r π ο ,μ ίνα Λαών b ears com parison w ith sim iles w here the
w a r-le a d e r is co m p ared to a shepherd and the host o f w arrio rs to a flock
(XIII 4 9 1 - 5 is the closest an alo g y; c f. also x i i. 4S ' - 6 · x v '· 35= ^ 7. x v m · ' , , '--l)_
In th e sam e w a y . the epithet 5(of Άρηος (tl. 5·!° . 7° 4. etc.) m akes m ore sense if
it is taken in the light o f n u m erous sim ile s w hich com pare a yo u th fu l w arrior
to 0 g ro w in g tree (see C h . . , p. 35 w ith n. 80). O n the cu m u lative effect o f
g ro u p s o f th e m atically sim ilar sim iles see M ou lton 0 977). csp. 18 -4 9 · S o m e ­
w h at s im ila rly , C . H* W hitm an ( 19 5 « : >2» - ' 53) stu d ies the association o f war
w ith fire th ro u gh o u t the I lia d as a sym b o lic system o f w h ich sim iles are only
the m ost o b vio u s m anifestation (com pare also T a p lin (19 9 2 ). 226-^7). On the
p e rils o f W h itm a n 's approach sec also ab ove, C h . I , p p . 2 0 - 1 .
 M ental L ife and the Body 109

for his crim es he w ould ‘ don a tunic o f stones’ , λάΓνον εσσο

χιτώνα (ill. 57). Sim ilarly, the distinction is unam biguously
marked out when Alcinous describes oars as the wings o f ships,
εύήρε’ ερετμά, τά τε πτερά ντηυσι πέλονται (xi. I2 5 = xxiii. 272) or
when Penelope speaks o f ships that act as m en's horses, νηών
ώκυπόρων . . . at θ’ άλό? ίπποι | άνδράαι γίγνονται (iv. 708—9).
Explicit m etaphors like these are not com parable w ith the
rendering o f mental life, because in that system there is no
sense in which heterogeneous things have been brought
together by poetic art. T h e whole o f H om eric psychology is
shot through with the im agery o f bodily ebb and (low, and the
one docs not exist without the other: there is no m etaphor, no
transference or extension, no extraneous im agery which we can
separate off from what thought and emotion are literally
conceived to b e .l2i W e would be thinking as translators, not
interpreters, o f H om er if we sought to distinguish body from
spirit, mind from organs, air in the lungs from abstract
thought: in this language they arc one and the sam e, so for
Homer man thinks and lives as a unity in w hich mental life and
the life o f the body are one and indivisible.

The defining factor can be in movement not substance

Consequently, we can easily obscure the H om eric realities if
we attempt to draw up a strict definition for any o f our nouns.
It is especially m isleading to arrange the w o rd ’s meaning into
a series o f sub-definitions in the manner o f Lid d ell and Scott.
T o assign (say) a given instance o f φρενες either to ‘ lungs’ or to
‘mind’ would be to ignore the fact that for Hom er they are
both at the one time: and if w e break its range of meaning into
the subsections dictated by our own language, we impose a

1,1 On (liis view the H om eric rendering o f m ental life could be likened to
what cognitive scientists call a 'conceptual schema* or a 'cogn itive m etaphor',
that is a coherent system o f im age-m aking w hich determ ines the shape of
language and thought on a given subject (see esp. L a k o ff and Johnson (1980);
L ak o ff and T u r n e r (19 8 9 ); T u r n e r ( 19 9 1) ; G ib b s (19 9 6 )). H ow ever, the m ajor
difference rem ains that ou r system depends on a clear and literal conception o f
what happens inside the breast, w h ile the m etaphors or schem ata o f the
cognitive scientists lack definite referents nnd develop autonom ously in
language and thought.
I ΙΟ The Language o f Thought and L ife
distinction that mnkcs sense only in term s o f our m odern
assum ptions, idiosyncratic as they arc, and so robs the H o ­
m eric w o rd s o f their internal logic. T h e problem o f definition
is best approached by exam ples: and a very neat and in struct­
ive exam ple is offered by μόνος.'22 A s w e have seen, it is one o f
the substances that ebb and flow in the m ental apparatus,
m ost often by entering the φρόνςς (c.g. I. 10 3 , x x i. 14 5 ) or
θυμός (χ χ ιι. 3 1 2 ) , so that it can seize or possess the person, as
μόνος όλλαβς θυμόν (χ χ ιιι. 468). S o far, this enables us to take it
as a species o f w hat com es to the fore when the inhalation o f
breath is follow ed by its com bination w ith liquid substances
flowing through the breast. H ow ever, beyond psychological
language proper other vital fluids arc also included as μόνος, as
for exam ple when tears or m ucus burst from the nose:

α να ρ ίνα ς oc 01 η ύ η
δρι/tü μ ό νο ς ττροϋτυφς. (χ χ ιν . 318—19)

A gain , when A then a tells T elem ach u s that he w ill succeed in

em ulating his father if this substance has ‘dripped dow n’ from
O dysseus into him , cl δη τ οι σοΰ πατρός όνόατανπαι μόνος τ/ΰ
(ϋ. 270—2), the w o rd s arc easily fathom ed if μόνος refers to
sem en .1^
T e a rs, sem en, blood in the breast: if the essence o f vigorous
life is in these fluids it m akes sense that a m an ’s μόνος can be
tantam ount to his identity, as in periphrases like Πριάμοιο μόνος
or itpov μόνος όΐλκινόοιο. T h e word Ιςρός is revealing here. 1 his
is not the only instance w here the w ord can hardly mean ‘ho ly’
or ‘o f the go d s’ in any norm al sense o f those E n glish w ords: on
the an alogy o f other problem atic uses, Ιςρός here seem s to mean
that the μόνος o f the m an is im bued w ith vitality and rushing
1,1 O n the difficu lty o f catego rizin g p iv o t, cf. Jo h n (19 8 7 ), 3 9 -4 5 . pivot is
difficu lt fo r Ja lin in h is account o f S ee le-G e is t w o rd s, since it acts in m ental life
ns one o f the Ovpot gro u p but can also be b reathed in from ou tsid e, and again it
can sim p ly be the fo rce o f m otion in nn in anim ate object.
,J< S im ila rly A rch ilo c h u s' h u e jo r p iv o t is h is sem en (fr. 19 6 a. 52 W ). F or
the O dyssey passage cited here, com pare P in d a r's w ord s w hen he has Z eu s
exp lain to P o ly d e u ccs that C a sto r w as con ceived sep arately from his brother
b y the seed o f a m o rtal m an: τόιδ< δ ’ «V ora trdoir σττίρρα θνατον μ ατ pi rräi
«rr Adame | ard fri· ήρο,ς (N em . io . 8 o - i ) . In the sexual act the father m akes his
sem en d rip d o w n into the m other, and the sem en is tantam ount to the child
h im self.
 M ental L ife and the Body I I I

m ovem ent.135 T h is points us to a further aspect o f μίνος,

without w hich its definition is incom plete. A lo n gsid e its role
as a tangible part o f a hum an being it can also be the force o f
violent self-p rop elled m otion in som ething n on -h um an : for
exam ple w ind (v. 524; v. 478), a river (x x i. 38 3), the sun
(x. 160), fire (vr. 18 2, X X I I I . 2 3 8 = x x i v . 792; viii. 359, xi. 220),
or a Hying spear (x ill. 444 = xvi. 6 i 3 = x v n . 5 2 9 ).17,1 H ow can
we include the extrem es o f its m eaning in a single definition for
a single word? T h e clue is that as a quality o f ch aracter or
mood, μένος represents a furious urge to action diat can tend
eventually to frenzy and self-d estruction (sec csp. vi. 10 0 —1,
407, X V II. 20—3 ) .127 T h e core o f its definition is not a p articu lar
thing but a particular type o f activity: vigorous, self-p ro p elled ,
thrusting m ovem ent. T h e mood o f the fell w a rrio r is one o f
impetuous m otion; the vital fluids o f the b o d y pro vid e the
capacity for that motion; the god incites the hero to su rgin g
aggression when he im pels him to battle; flyin g m issiles,
blazing fire, rushing water, and sunbeam s em bod y th ru stin g
motion again in their less com plex w ays. G iv e n this alm ost
abstract character it m akes sense that unlike other m ental
substances μένος can also be com m unicated from o u tsid e
when a god breathes it into a m an, ΐμττνίυαε μένος (e.g.
XV. 262 = XX. 1 10 , X X IV . 442; m ore vagu ely vm. 3 3 5 , X V . 594,
XVI. 529). In short the un ifyin g characteristic o f μένος is not a
substance but a process, a verbal rather than nom inal idea, and
one whose scope is clearly and precisely defined.
If this argum ent seem s w him sical it can be b olstered b y two
close analogies in the shape o f the w ords ΐς and αιών. F ir s t, fj
,ϊ5 S e e m ost recen tly M . J . C la rk e (19 9 5 6 ).
Π μ5 fo rm ulaic line is tantalizin g. In each case the sp e a r strik e s s o m t-
thin r, ou ivers. and then A res takes its m ob ile fo rce a w a y , ά φ ία μ ίν α ς όβριμος
X fv r G iv e n the special ch aracter o f referen ces to A r e s in the lan g u ag e o f
battle (C h . 8. pp. 2 6 9 -7 2 ), this is am b igu o u s: it m igh t s im p ly m ean that the
d r iv in g force o f the sp ear w as d issipo ted . o r it m igh t look b ack to so m e old
belief about the p ersonalities o f w eapons (see Ja n k o at x m . 444). E ith e r w a y ,
how ever, μένος here m ust refer to vig o ro u s m otio n o r the im p etu s b eh in d it.
‘ It is w orth noting that μένος is cognate w ith w o rd s in o th er lan g u ag e s
that app roxim ate to ‘m in d ': L a tin mens, Iris h memnae, S a n sk rit m anasa. In
G reek the w ord appears to have sh ifted in m ean in g so that it refers to fierce
vigorous m otion o f variou s kin d s, in clu d in g vo latile p sych o lo g ical m o ve m e n t
o f the kind that can tend to fero city or m ad n ess, μανία, an oth er reflex o f the
sam e root. S e e now the acute o b servatio n s o f H e rsh k o w itz (19 9 8 ), 14 2 - 6 0
I 12 The Language o f Thought anti Life
(= f*V) and the plural tea (= f ! res) m ake n classic lexical prob­
lem . fi in the sin gular is the strength o f m otion and o f the nctivc
b o d y in particular. T h e force o f a river rushing in spate is iy
ποτάμοιο (xxt. 356), sim ilarly the force o f a gale is is άνίμοιο
( X V . 3 S 3 ; ix. 7 1 , etc.). It is also what enables a man to hurl
w eap on s, run , w restle, and the like (v. 2 4 4 -5 , v i i . 269, xt. 668-
Q, X I I . 3 2 0 - 1 , x x m . 720; ix. 538, xi. 39 3, xviii. 3, xxi. 2S3) and
w hat enables the fingers to knead w ax (xii. 17 5 ). A m an's Jy, like
h is βίη or his μίνοs, can be tantam ount to his identity, as Up-η fy
Τη\(μάχοιο (ii. 409, xv i. 476, etc.). T h e instrum ental ιφι and the
ad jectives Τφιος and ίφΟιμος, w hich are possibly cognate, refer in
the sam e w ay to the force o f motion and m uscular strength (see
C h . 6, pp. 17 6 —7). A d d to this the fact that a word with
accu sative tva and plural »Yry names m uscles and tendons.
T h u s A n ticleia’ s shade describes the w raiths’ feebleness,
w h e n the sinew's no longer hold flesh and bone together: αΰ
γάρ i n σάρκας re και οστία Tvcs ΐχουσιν (xi. 2 19 )· S im ilarly Apollo
o b scu res the sun to delay the decay o f H ector’s corpse,

μ η ττριν μ έ ν ο ς ή ί λ ϊ ο ιο
α κ ή λ α ' ά μ φ ι n e p t χ ρ ό α iv c o tv η ύ ΐ μ έ λ ί σ ο ι ν . ( Χ Χ III - K JO —ι )

A sim ile d escribes a man cutting through the m uscle o f an ox’s

neck, 7va τάμηι διά -πάσαν (x v il. 522); and »vioi1, presum ably
cognate, is the large m uscle o f the human neck (v. 7 3 , x iv . 495).
A t first a g u lf seem s to yaw n between the two meanings,
ab stract strength and solid bodily parts: but we make a
b rid g e if we o b serve that when ΐς in the singular is human
stren gth , it is closely identified with the m uscular flexibility of
the lim b s, b eing ivl γναμπτοΐαι μΐλ€σσιν (χι. 668—9; xi. 393~4.
x x i. 2 8 3). S im ila rly , κρατκρή . . . ις Οόυσήος (x x ili. 720) >s his
strength in w restlin g; one who throws a stone pushes his u
beh in d it, tnipeiae hi «V’ arrtAtOpov (v u . 269; ix. 53%)· and men
su rg in g info battle— m uscles taut, strength advanced— are iV
άτ,ίλ'.Ομον ΐχοντας (v. 24 5h T h is m eans that the distinction
betw een ‘stren g th ’ and ‘m uscles, tendons’ is one which
I fo m e r’s use o f the word ft docs not allow us to m ake: although
the declension L, Iv&t is odd it is not u n p a r a l l e l e d ,a n d the

1 » C f / • i t . Ζ η * 6·.-. f>h, O u n r r a in e . FritV. anil I.Jerl'. n e h lo t tw o

» c p a rsle w ord » , m eaning ‘ tfrenKth* and 'tendon* re« p « clively. t u t not« the
 M ental L ife and the Body 1 13
evidence invites us to take it as a single word whose range of
meaning extends from the vigo u r o f motion in the broadest
s e n s e down to the parts o f the body that are its particular
agents.
T u rn in g to a last exam ple, αίώv answers som ehow to life and
vitality. A t death it disappears w ith the last breath, róe y* λίπηι
ψυχή Tt ical αιών (xvi. 4 5 3 ; sim. V. 685, vii. 224), and to die is to
he deprived o f it, ψίλης αΰϋΐ'ο; άμΐρΟήις (xxil. 58; sim. ix. 523) or
απ'αιώνος νιος ót\eο (X X IV . 72 5)· Sin ce alti, 'alw ays1, is closely
cognate and αιών in later G reek generally denotes a period o f
time, it is easy to assum e that the H om eric m eaning must
involve the idea o f the tim e or span o f one's life: so when it is
said that a hero was sh ort-lived , μινυνΟάΒιος 8t οι αιών \ ίπλιτο
(iv. 478-9 = X V II. 30 2 —3), the reference to time at first seems
straightforward. But elsew here this adjective is applied not to
the period o f time but the person who exists for that period, as
for exam ple a man who dies youn g is h im self μινυνθάδιος (e.g.
I. 352· XXI. 84; xi. 30 7, xix. 3 2 S ).,2‘' αιών here sounds less like a
time span than a substance tantam ount to vitality— ‘his αιών
will lie sh o rt-lived ’ . In ju st this w ay when A ch illes im agines the
prospect o f a long life, <7ri Srjpov Sé μοι αιών I é a o e r a i ( iX . 4 15—
1 6), he says literally that there w ill be αιών in (or ‘to’) him for a
long time. A doubtful passage o f the Iliad also reads well in this
sense. D escribing the killing and dishonouring o f Patroclus,
Achilies fears that w orm s will fester in the dead man,
άίικίσαωσι δί ifKpóv—
Ι κ ö ' α ιώ ν π ίά ν ιτ α ι— κ α τ ά Cf χ ρ ό α π ά ν τ α σ α π ή η ι. (XIX. 2 6 —7)

T akin g πίψαται from θιίνω,' ° the parenthesis translates as

something like ‘his α ιώ ν has been killed out o f him ’— an ex­
pression w hich w ould be odd, and unparalleled in H om er, if
the αιών w ere a period o f tim e. It m ust instead be some thing or
essence thar is tantam ount to v ita lity .,J1 T h e plot thickens

μ'n u b ility o f an etym ologica] link b etw een the tw o (‘possib le, non p la s ’ ,
Chanfratnc).
S im ila rly μι*\ττ0<χώ*ΰττ4ρτ,$> i» 'let» ifrieT I x x i i . 5 4 /·
XYt T h u » Chantrairie ».v . fo llo w e d by E d w ard* ad loc. T h e rrutation
rA the U b i/ ^ v c b r ha* cau&ed trou b le iin.ee an tiquity and »w n e have taken
r/^oroj l#ere fro m in*, w hich m akrv fo r b igg er difficulties
1,1 C f Edwards ad toe.
1 14 The Language o f Thought and Life W AV

when αιών is identified ns the substance o f tears, Odysseus

weeps and his αιών flows down: ■

ουδ/ w o t ' uooc

& α κ ρ ν ό φ ιν rip a o vT O , κ α τ ( ί β ( τ ο S« yAtucèy α ιώ ν
ν ό σ τ ο ν ό δ υ ρ ο μ ίν α ιι. (ν. 15 ·~ 3 )

A few lines later Calypso tells him not to let this stuff waste
away from him, μ η δ ί τ ο ι αιών | φ θ ι ν ί tu i (v. i6o—i). Penelope
describes weeping in the same way when she hopes for a gentle
death that will end her lamentations:
"να μ - η κ ίτ ' όδυρ ομ ΐντ] κ α τά θ υ μ ό ν
α ιώ ν α φΟινΰΟιυ. ( x v ii i. 2 0 3 —4 )

In the Homeric Hymn to Hermes αιών is the m oist stuff under a

tortoise’ s shell (42, 11 9 ) and there is som e evidence that the
w ord also nam es bone m arro w .151 T h e picture that em erges is
o f som ething visible and tangible, the vital moist stu ff that
characterizes the living body; yet in the tem poral sense, as we
saw from aid, this sam e word nam es som ething entirely
abstract, the duration o f a life. T h e com m on ground o f m ean­
ing is not in a particular static thing but in the ongoing process
o f livin g, w hich can be seen and encapsulated in different
contexts by a length o f time or by an oozing liq u id .133
T h e lexical structure that inform s these three words— fs,
αιών, μίνος— is analogous to the conceptual structure that
inform s 1lo m er’s rendering o f mental life. A t first it seemed
hardly to m ake sense that H om er encom passes tangible bodily
parts and the intangible essence o f life and thought within the
,,J S o lm se n (19 7 9 ) nrgucs that σύμφυτο! αιών is the bone m arrow that surges
or ru les (άνόιοση, άνάσστι) in the bodies o f the ch oru s o f A e sch ylu s'
A g a m e m n o n (A g. 7 6 - 7 . 10 6 ). H csych iu s has the tantalizing gloss 6 iv wavri
τώ ι οώματι μ ν ιλ ό ί, though it is o f cou rse p ossib le that this represen ts a guess
no better in form ed than ou r ow n. O n P in d aric αιών sec E p ilo gu e, p. 3 1 1 .
m O n αιών as 'tim e o f life' and as 'essen ce o f life ’ , sec m ost recently C laus
( 1 9 8 1 ) , 1 1 - 1 3 . an d B re m m e r (19 8 3 ). 1 5 - 1 7 · O nians ( 1 9 5 t : 200-O ), b oldly
id en tifies a Ιών w ith tears, m arro w , and cereb ro -sp in al Huid. D cgan i ( 19 6 1: 17 ­
28) su rv e y s the uses o f αιών in I lo m e r and su ggests that forza vitale is the
origin al m ean in g, tran sferred som etim es to m arrow as a sym bol o f that force.
N ik itas (19 7 8 : 7 5 - 8 6 ) arg u es that the association o f αιών w ith the m arrow and
the sp in e is p o st-H o m cric , und com pares the H o m e ric exam ples. O n the
develo p m en t o f α Ι ώ ν into the tem poral sense fam iliar in later G re e k , see
B en vcn istc ( 19 3 7 ) : F e stu g ie rc (19 4 9 ); D cgan i ( 1 9 6 1 ) , passim.
 • :
NJ
*
M ental L ife and the Body 1 >5
meanings o f individual w ords and throughout the im agery
where those w ords exp ress ideas; but it turns out that the
system is clear and m eaningful because the life o f H o m eric m an
is defined in term s o f processes m ore precisely than o f things,
because the oozing, flowing, billow ing life o f breath and the
organs in the breast is dynam ic rather than static, it exp resses
the flow o f mental life clearly and n aturally, w ith at least as
much depth and subtlety as docs the language o f the m ind in
our own culture.
y
The body and the self are one
T he implication o f all this is that H o m er does not oppose
mental life to the life o f the body but takes them as an
undifferentiated w hole. T h e re is no ‘ ghost in the m ach in e’ :
Homeric m an does not have a m ind, rather his thought and
consciousness arc as inseparable a part o f his b o d ily life as are
movement and m etabolism . I f that is right, then by the sam e
token he w ill not have a body: the thing that E n glish calls 'th e
body' will be exactly coterm inous w ith and identical to the
mass o f blood, bones, and consciousness that is a hum an being.
We now turn to establish w hether or not this is the case: and
the results o f this second en quiry w ill allow us to end o u r
chapter with a more definite sketch o f the relation betw een the
physical and psychological identity o f H om eric m an.

Body and not-body

Just as H . Frankel held (above, pp. 6 1 —3) that H o m eric m an
draws no line between the inner self and the o u ter w o rld , so
B. S n e ll'3* advanced the bold theory that H om er has no unified
concept o f m an’s mental identity, that the entities in the θυμός
fam ily represent ju m b led fragm ents o f m ental life that do not
add up to a ‘psychic w hole’ . I hope that the discussion in this
chapter has been enough to show that that is not the full truth
at least on the w o rd -b y-w o rd level. W hat rem ains challenging
in Snell s essay is an observation about H o m er's attitude to

S n ell («953). 8- 17- On the in tellectual b ackgro u n d o f S n e ll'» prcoccu pa

non», see M a cC a ry (19 8 2 ), 3 - 3 4 ; A . S c h m itt (19 9 0 ), 1 2 - 7 1 . 1 1 7 - 2 5 .

ii
 1 *6 The Language o f Thought ami Life
the body, that he sees it not as a unity but as a collection of
parts:

Our phrase *his body became feeble' would be the Hom eric AcAivro
>α.Γ<ι; ‘ his whole body trem bled’ would appear as γυία τρημίοι-rcu.
W here we might say ’sweat poured from his body’ , Homer has
•5/xoj <K pt\iu,v ipptev; *his body was filled with strength’ is ττ\ήοθη
5 ' όρη οΓ μ(\ΐ' rvros αλκής . . . How would we translate [into Homeric
Greek] He washed his body’ ? I lom er has χρόα νΐζίτο. How would
H om er say "The sword pierced his body'? Here again he uses the
word χρώς: ξίφος χροος SnjAflc.'35

On its ow n this tendency m ight sim p ly be seen as a matter of

style rather than id e a s;116 but the argum ent rests m ore solidly
on the observation that H om er has no one word to denote the
livin g body, and hence b y extension that he has no conception
o f the b o d y as a single thing. T h is is the point on which we
m ust fasten.
S n ell relies in the first place on the observation attributed to
A ristarch u s that in H om er σώμα alw ays refers to a corp se.117
T h e facts are the fo llo w in g .138 σώμα is attested for human
b odies (v n . 79 = x x ti. 342; xi. 5 3 , xii. 67, xxiv. 1S 7 ) and those
o f anim als (in . 2 3 , x v m . 1 6 1 , x x m .‘ 169), and every human
σώμα is defin itely a corp se.I3V O f the three instances applied to
,5·" S n e ll ( 19 5 3 ) , 5 -6 .
1 Irre s p e c tiv e o f the question o f u n d erlyin g ideas, there is un doubtedly a
sty listic ten d en cy as w ell: see e.g. v iii. 13 4 - 6 , x v iii. 67 -9 .
U7 C ite d in A p o llo d o ru s, Lexicon Hom ericum 254-
σώμα has no secure e tym o lo gy. O n the problem o f its H om eric m eaning,
see H e rte r ( 19 5 7 ) : K o lle r (19 5 8 ): KralTt (19 6 3 ), 26—30 ; R enehan (19 7 9 ); also
som e (p erh aps glib ) rem arks by W est at H es. 1173 540 (see E p ilo gu e, p. 285).
H e rte r ( 19 5 7 ) holds that a σώμα m ay be livin g or dead, on the grounds o f the
p assag e in the S h ie ld (see n. 14 0 b elow ) and the su pposition that A siatic lions
d o not cot ca rrio n , and he p re fe rs to define the σώμα as the b o d y as opposed to
th e h ead , lik e G e rm a n L eih ; though he accepts ( 2 16 —17 ) that there m ay be
d e e p e r im p licatio n s in the fact that H o m e r does not use the w ord o f living
h um an b o d ie s. K o lle r (19 5 8 ) avo id s the issue b y m aintaining that οώμα is
cogn ate w ith aireotai, and that in the lion sim iles it is 'w h a t is m auled or
attack e d ’ and in oth er con texts ‘ co rp se ’ . R en eh an (19 7 9 ) re v ie w s the debate
an d is content to accept that in practice, at least, H om er does not use any one
w o rd fo r the liv in g hum an b o d y; he is un w illin g to draw any firm conclusions
fro m th is, b u t con cludes w ith a suggestion sim d ar to m y ow n argum ent here,
h o ld in g that H om er docs not speak o f the b ody because he recognizes no
d ivisio n o f m an into b o d y and n o t-b o d y (2 78 —80).
 M ental L ife and the Body 117
animals, one refers to flayed corpses, δρατά σ ώ μ α τ α (xxitt. i 6 q ),
hilt the other two arc d o ub tfu l. Both occur in lion sim iles,
where the σώμα is the lion's prey: it is plausible at least that
these arc also corpses, as there is no good reason to think that
Hom er's lions are averse to carrio n .,4U A lthou gh this cannot
be certain, we can follow A ristarch u s and Sn ell to the extent
that in practice H o m er does not ap ply this w ord to the living
human body. O ther candidates for a w ord for the body are
equally u n satisfacto ry.141 F o r exam ple δίμας, like the less
common φιτή, refers to o n e's shape o r appearance rather
than the body as a concrete th in g .142 T h e w ord occurs
nearly alw ays as an accusative o f resp ect14·1— typ ically when
a disguised god resem bles som eone in shape, fo r exam ple
{Ιοάμίνος Κάλχαντ ι δίμας xal n r e t p e a φιυιτήν ( Χ Π Ι. 451 com pare
X V I I . 323. i*- 2ÓS, etc.), or to explain that an ad jective refers to
someone’s appearance:

,n T h e on ly deb atab le in stan ce is at x ii. (>7, w h e re m e n 's σώματα are

washed aw ay after they are sh ip w re ck ed in the C la s h in g R o ck s. It is (tech n ic­
ally) arguable that th ey m igh t have not drow n ed im m ed iately: though it is
implied that they arc n ow lost p erm an en tly, so that the reason ab le in terpreta­
tion is that they are dead.
1,0 O ne o f the tw o sim iles (in . 2 3 - 7 ) clo se ly resem b les a passage in the
H esiodic S h ie ld u j H eracles (426—3 2 ), w h e re the σώμα is cle a rly that o f a livin g
anim al; if it w ere assu m ed that the e p ic language is the sam e in both instances,
the I'nadic sim iles m igh t b e taken ns re ferrin g to liv in g b easts (see H erter
(>957))· W e w ill see later (E p ilo g u e , p p . 3 1 5 - 1 9 ) that σώμα is used in new and
different senses in p o st-H o m e ric G r e e k , and that this change is reflected w hen
Hesiod h im se lf uses σώμα o f the livin g b o d y in I l 'f l . I le n ce the S h ie ld passage
need not be taken as an in d e x o f the H o m e ric u sage.
141 V iv an te ( 19 5 5 ) u se fu lly s u rv e y s the claim s o f yuia, äi/ica, /tcAca, ßtOca,
χρώς, σώμα, Scpas, efSoj, and φιτή to the title o f the H o m e ric w o rd fo r 'b o d y ’ ,
and show s that none o f these fits the b ill.
* Sc μας is cognate w ith Scpu.1, 'b u ild ', so that it seem s to denote the shape
or form in w h ich a p erso n is m ade (see L / g rE , C h an train e s .v . Separ, F risk s .v .
Sipuj).
u> S e e R u ijg h ( 1 9 7 1 ) , S6 5. T h e r e is one arg u ab le e xcep tio n . Penelope
describes the decline o f h er beauty*: η τοι *μ TtΓ ap errjv, ctSós tc Scpas r e , | ώΛβσαν
öiW aroi (x v iii. 2 5 1 - 2 = x ix . 12 4 —5). D o cs this m ean that the gods have
destroyed her 'a p en ) and app earan ce and b o d y ' o r that they have destroyed
her 'α ρ ιτ ή in respect o f ap p earan ce and fo rm ’ ? T h e r e is n othing to choose
between the tw o tran slatio n s, e xce p t that the latter w ould be m ore regu lar
statistically.
118 The Language o f Thought and L ife
ou IQ iv { a n xtpt(u)V, (J
oü δ ίμ α ς ο ΰ δ ί φ υή ν, ο ΰ τ ’ ό ρ φ ρ ίν α ς ο ΰ τ ( τ ι i ρ γ α . WJf
( i . 1 1 4 - 1 5 ; s i m . XXIV. 3 7 ^ · ϋ ΐ · 4 6 8 , x i v .
177. etc.)
H ence δίμας behaves less like a noun than an adverb, qualifying
an adjective or a verb expressing a com parison. S im ila rly it can 'tg:
•·£
act as a preposition introducing a sim ile, as cos οί μίν μάρναντο
δίμας τΓύρος αιθομίνοιο (ΧΙ. 59^ = ΧΠΙ. 6 7 3 = XVIII. i ; sim. vV
XVII. 366)· Stμας, then, names not the body but the m anner in ■
w hich som ething is shaped or constructed. ■ .*
Revealing here is the passage where O dysseus describes ■B
*· ■ ·
finding his com panions turned into swine by C irce:
οι δ ί a v w v μ ί ν ίχ ο ν κ ίφ η λ α ς φ ω ΐ'ην τ ( τ ρ ίχ α ς τ ι
-5
κ α ί δ / μ α ς , α ύτά ρ νούς ΐ)ν ίμ π ίδ ο ς w s τ ο π ό ρ ο ς τrtp. ( χ . 2 3 9 —4 ° )
If-
W hen H om er tries to render the difficult and unique idea that 3,
the m en look like beasts but have their own human identity, ä
XT
δίμ ας m oves close to denoting the substance o f the body as
opposed to the thinking m an. T h e fact that the usage is unique
to this passage, with its extraordinary situation,144 confirm s the
im pression that H om eric language does not reflect a distinction ·■
between body and not-body in the m ake-up o f the living man. r-t?
S im ila rly, even if it is possible in the H om eric lexicon for σώμα .λ
to denote the living body, still the fact that H om er never does
use it in this sense m ust be significant— especially if we
recognize how difficult it would be in En glish to describe
things like hand-to-hand com bat or heroic physique without
using the equivalent word.
Snell adduced the lack o f a word for ‘ b ody’ as proof that for
H om er ‘the physical body was com prehended not as a unit but
as an aggregate.’ 145 In the light o f the argum ent in this chapter
a sim p ler solution presents itself: to seek a word for ‘ b ody1is to
ask H om er a w rong and unansw erable question. T h at a man
'** C o m p are the other references to C ir c e 's tran sform ations, w hich do not
in vo lve an yth in g like a concept o f b ody qua b od y: the tran sform ed m en are
τ( over (x. 283) or σιάΛοισιι· Ιοικάτας «Yrciü/χησιι· (χ. 39° ) · anc^ sim ilarly w hen
th ey ch an ge back to hum an appearance: rthr &' J k μ ίν μ τλ ίω ν τρίχ<ς fpptov . . .
άι·δρςς δ ’ άφ Ι γ ίν ο ιτο (χ. 3 9 3 "S )· T h e shape-chan gin g o f P roteu s is described in
m uch the sam e w a y (iv. 4 16 - 2 4 . 4 5 5 - 6 1) .
145 (19 5 3 ).
 119
M ental L ife ami the Body
should have a body m akes sense only if he has another part to
be distinguished from it: soul, m ind, the ghost in the m achine.
Since we saw from the θ υ μ ό s fam ily that for H om er there is no
mental part o f man that can be distinguished from the b o d y, it
follows now that the body is indistinguishable from the hum an
whole. A spear strikes a m an’s head or hand or foot or m ore
generally it strikes the m an, and that is all. Both in p sy ch o ­
logical life and in the life o f the llcsh, the bo d ily and spiritu al
continuum can be identified un am biguously in m any w ays
ίν θ ρ ω π ο ς , αύτο'ί, Ά γ α μ ί μ υ ω ν , and so on— and there is no place
for a name for either h alf o f a dichotom y that docs not exist. In
this way the problem o f ο ώ μ α and S t μ α ς corroborates the theory
that the undivided un ity o f hum an nature is all that stands
behind the activity o f θυμός and its fam ily. 4

As vüos the product of thought goes beyond the apparatus in the

breast
We saw at the beginning o f this chapter that θυμός and its
family have an indeterm inate status between m ental agents and
mental functions or phenom ena. A t the latter extrem e they can
occasionally be identified with the products o f thought rath er

'** Su ch a revision o f S n e ll's arg u m en t about the 'fra g m e n te d s e l f ' h as b een

made under variou s form s in G e rm an studies: fo r a su ccin ct statem en t o f the
debate and its resolution, see A . S c h m itt (19 9 0 ), e sp . 1 7 8 - S 2 . T h e p oin t w as
first articulated clearly by L.antg (> 9 53). see csp . 3 9 . S o m e th in g s im ila r is
briefly suggested by H e ric r (19 5 7 ), 2 0 6 -8 , w ith b ib lio g ra p h y o f o th er
revisions o f S n e ll's argum ent; see also V iv an te ( 19 5 5 ) . 4 7 - 8 , an d R e n ch an
( · 9?θ). 279- A d kin s (19 7 0 : 2 1 —7) closely fo llo w s S n e ll on the idea o f n lack o f
psychic un ity, b u t com es clo ser to m y arg u m en t here w hen he m en tion s that
"there is r o w ord for the [psychic] w hole apart fro m the im plications o f the
perianal pronouns' (2 2 , m y italics). A u stin ( 19 7 5 : 8 2 - 5 ) sh o w s in a b r ie f sketch
that received ideas about p rim itive m entality and lan g u age u n d e rlie S n e ll's
theory: 'T o concentrate e x clu siv e ly on isolated w o rd s . . . p ro d u ce s an
erroneous im pression since, in fact, H o m e r is b ein g ju d g e d acco rd in g to his
understanding o f later general con cep ts’ (8 4 -5 ). T h e sam e p oin t has b een rc-
em phasi2ed in m ore p hilosophical term s b y G a sk in (19 9 0 ). C o m p a re L e s k y 's
suggestion (19 5 0 ; 9 9 -10 0 ), in his review o f S n e ll's b ook, that H o m e ric
language m ay reflect a un ified con cept o f s e lf w ith o u t h a v in g a w o rd to
correspond to that concept (also L e s k y ( 1 9 6 1 ) , 7 - 9 ; fo llo w ed b y D a re u s
Sullis-an (19 8 8 ), 2 -7 ); and fo r a m ore o b liq u e ap p ro ach to 'u n ity in m u lti­
p licity', see Padcl (19 9 2 ), 4 4 -8 .
 I 20 The Language o f Thought and L ife
than the ongoing p ro cess.'*7 T h is explains w hy it is often
im plied that the m ental entity is som ething that exists only
tem porarily; throughout this chapter m any o f our e x a m p !«
have illustrated this, as when one is affected by a new thought,
«repor βνμος (ix. 302). o r when fear or folly am ounts to the loss
o f m ental substance, as in the question to one who seems to
have gone m ad, w here have your «Spfut disappeared to*'
(XXIV. 2 0 1 - 2 ; see also e.g. v i. 3 5 2 , a n . 3 9 *, and see above,
pp. i c j —2). W hen an appeal to courage is expressed as άΛχιμβ*
τ,τορ (v. 52g ), the im age is not figurative in the same wav
as an E n glish exp resssion like ‘ take heart’. It is in the same way
that N esto r, after exp oun d in g his favoured battle-plan, can say
that in fo rm er tim es m en fought το*·5< roer teal ϋνμχα· L‘l
σ-rrfeooi.* <χο»-τ«Γ (iv. 309 ; cf. XVI. 265) or that men acting and
tr.inking in unison arc cVa φρ*σ1 θνμόν ίχοντίς (χ ιιι. 4S7) or ό α
θνμίν (χοι-rti (xv. 7 1 0 . XVI. 2 19 , XVII. 267; iii. 12S ). A ll this
m akes sense if our nouns stand not for the thinker or the
process but for its results.
«öcr here is an im portant case in poin t.' 4' It is associated
p rim arily w ith intellectual rather than em otional activity,14’
though this is not a w atertight rule— note the phrase χαipe
föoji (viii. 7S)— and w e have seen in m any exam ples that it
participates in the pattern o f ebb and fiow shared b y all the
θνμο£ fam ily: in particu lar it tends to be the contents o f the
fiow , as w hen anger expands it, οιδά*·«ι rdov (ix. 554) or
appeasem ent com presses it, cr-iyióptrrci (ix. 5 14 ); in someone
w ise it is dense, as d u if ττνκινον voor (xv. 4 6 1);'* ° and a foolish
147 T h is o b se rv a tio n is p e rh ap s the m ost useful part o f C lau s's contribution
(a b o ve , p. 68).
'** Ja h n ( 19 S 7 : 4 6 - 1 1 8 ) has an e xh au stive and v e ry useful su rve y o f i-dor,
w h ic h b eg in s b y d iv id in g the definition in tw o— root 1 i* the 'in stru m en t or
s u b je c t’ o f m ental life , root 2 is the ‘ m obile product o f th ou ght’ . H e eventually
co lla p se s the d istin ctio n and sets root apart from the other m ental entities
b ec au se o f its ’c h aracte r as a ίν τ α μ ις ’ and its p ecu liar status as the ‘ result and
co n se q u en ce o f rational a c tiv ity ' ( 1 1 7 —iS ). T h e gram m atical data about róoc as
o b je ct o r p ro d u ct o f thought are u se fu lly collected b y D arcu s (19 8 0 ), 3 3 —9. C l.
also O n ian s ( 1 9 3 1 ) , 82; C la u s ( 1 9 8 1 ) , 19 —2 1 .
'** O n this see also von F ritz (19 4 3 ) , an sw erin g B öh m e (19 2 9 ). w ho had
m ain tain ed 15 2 —6 3) that ► oot w as e xclu sive ly in tellectual; and on the relation­
sh ip b etw een βνμόί and rtlos see also M a rg 1*938), 4 3 “ ^-
S im ila r ly cu n n in g p lan s are w eavin gs o f thought, «αχορραφίαι. ή ο ι ο
(it. 2 36 ).
 M ental L i je and the Body 121
person has an ά*οον· κραοΐ-ην (xxi. 4 4 1), a mental apparatus with
no ideas in it. A lthou gh it does not necessarily act as a full
synonym o f θ υ μ ό ς and the others, it is closely linked to them.
Por exam ple, when P aris describes H ector’s disposition he
begins b y talking o f his «paöéq,
a lt i toi κ ρ π ίιη < if i o r i r artiprrff, . . . (ill. 6o)
but when he finishes his description its nam e has becom e νόοςφ
.
tuf e o i L i an ']$co<Tir ά τά ρ 2 ιje o s rt>cf Ι ού f. (ill. 6 3 )
y
It is also possible for *-όο> to be assim ilated to the main mental
apparatus, as in the doublet róvSe νόον καί θυμόν (ιν. 309). It
differs, how ever, in that it is not a part o f the straightforw ard
anatomv o f the body— n o-on e’s νόος is ever visible, and it is not
described as air breathed into the lungs like θυμός. In v ie w o f
this, could it be identified as a kind o f spiritual self, an
immaterial centre o f psychological life ?131
Here the exception proves the rule, «-dor, along w ith the
kindred ν ό η μ α , differs from the other psychological identities
because it is not the source or instrum ent o f mental life but the
1,1 A theory in this direction is ad van ced b y A . S c h m itt <1990), 1 8 8 - 2 2 1 ,
esp. 2 1 1 - 2 1 . S e e k in g to id en tify a sin gle en tity u n ifyin g the fu nctions o f the
m em bers o f the θι-μάς fam ily, he proposes roos as the "true s e lf ' o f H om eric
nun. In this argum en t, as throu ghout his book, he is concerned less w ith the
bods'—m ind question than w ith the categories into w h ich m ental life is to be
divided: sp ecifically, w hether a stru ctu re can b e found in H om eric psychology
which w ould answ er to the distin ction bew een reason, w ill, and em otion in
m odem p hilosophy. F ro m this startin g-p oin t he is led to define i-ooj as the
rational force w hich im poses o rd er on the disordered passion represented b y
θυμός. Because Sch m itt tends to argue th rou gh general p rin cip les or through
the term s o f later G ree k p h ilso p h y, it is d ifficu lt to get to g tip s w ith his ideas
about the realities o f H o m eric thought and language. I f w e accepted the
contrast betw een θυμός and νόος w h ich he proposes it w ou ld be v e ry hard to
explain passages w here the tw o are o sten sib ly one and the sam e (c.g. iv . 309).
M ore gen erally, there are tw o sim p le difficu lties w ith h is approach. F irst, no
H om eric passage actu ally m entions a con flict betw een θυμός and root or,
indeed, an opposition o f an y kind betw een νόος and an y o f the nouns in the
θυμός group (cf. esp. 1S 8 —9; and see ab ove, p p . 64—6). S e c o n d ly. Sch m itt sid e­
steps the p o ssib ility that the νόος o f his chosen passages is a tem porary
phenom enon, an act o f th ought rather than a perm anent sub stratum (see
esp. 17 6 - 8 ); so that it can still be arg u ed that the value o f his argum ent lies in
distinguishing types o f m ental activ ity o r m ental p ro d u cts, rather than in
identifying one o r other sou rce o f thought as the ‘ true s e l f .
122 The Language o f Thought and Life
conclusion o f the thinking pro cess,153 the p rod uct o f the act
named by the cognate verb voefv or vocfoOat.153 So it is that a voos
can be virtu ally identified w ith a plan or stratagem , as in the
doublets voo? καί μήτις (vil. 447, XV. 509; x ix. 3 2 6 )154 and βουλή
re vóór r e (ii. 2 8 1, iv. 26 7, xi. 17 7 ). W hen it is said that O dysseus
πολλών ανθρώπων ïStv aarca και νόον éyvoo (i. 3) it is m isleading to
translate that he ‘knew the m in ds’ o f m en: the straightforw ard
m eaning is that he learnt their plans and policies, the same
claim that M en elaus m akes m ore p lainly about his own
w anderings:
ή δ η μ ( ν π ο λ ό ω ν (δ ά η ν β ο υ λ ή ν r e νόον re
ά ν δ ρ ώ ν ή ρ ώ ω ν , π ο λ λ ι}ν δ 'ίπ ί λ ή λ υ θ α y a ia v .
(iv. 2 6 7 - 8 ; cf. viii. 559)

L ik ew ise a voos is produced by the act o f planning, as οΰ γάρ δή

τούτον . . . (βοΰλίυσας vóov αυτή (ν. 23 = xxiv. 479), or by the act
o f thinking, vocfv:'ss
οΰ γ ά ρ Tis νόον ά λλος ά μ *ίν ο να τοϋδ« νο ή ο (ΐ
οίο ν c y w vocal, (ix. 104-5)

H ere what is produced b y vociv is som ething objective, a

schem e or idea, ju st as elsew here it is an utterance, μύθον . . .
νοήααι (v il. 358 = XII. 2 3 2 ; sim . I. 543). Lik ew ise Z e u s docs not
b rin g m en’s intentions to fulfilm ent, άλλ’ οΰ Zcür üvSpcaoi
νοήματα πάντα TcAcvrä« (x v in . 328 ; sim . X. 10 4 —5); one can
know (or not know ) another’s thoughts or plans, οΰ γάρ πω
σάφα οίοΟ’ οιος voos Αΐτ/jetcuvos (ii. 19 2)· W hen a man reveals
o th ers’ plots he recounts their voos, πάντα νόον κατ c λ c ξ c v /Ίχαιών
(iv. 256 ; sim . x v in . 295); and one who has becom e foolish has
been led aw ay from it, παρίκ νόον (x. 3 9 1; cf. xx. 13 3 ).
i n C f. O n ian s ( 1 9 5 1) , 8 2 ; V iv a n te (19 5 6 ). 1 2 8 - 3 0 : C la u s ( 19 8 t ) , 19 -2 0 .
153 O n the relation sh ip s w ith in this fam ily o f w o rd s, see vo n F ritz (19 4 3);
K ris c h e r (19 8 4 ) . V on F ritz su ggests that voos, rocia, and νόημα refer to
d iffe rin g stages in 'th e realisation o f a situ atio n ' (9 1) , a su itab ly vague
d efin itio n : K ris c h e r m o d ifies th is to 'th e d isp o sitio n o f a person . . . that
d eterm in es h is b e h a v io u r’ ( 1 4 7 ; c f. S n e ll (19 7 5 ) , 19 - 2 5 ) . F o r the proposal o f
A . S c h m itt ( i9 g o ) ab o u t the relation o f voor to θυμόr, see n. 1 5 1 above.
1,4 C o m p a re the m ore d istan t p airin g s at x . 2 2 6 , x x m . 59 0 ; also note vrior
και αιδώ ς (XV. 12 9 ).
1 ,1 F o r voor c le a rly m ark ed out as the p ro d u ct o f th o u g h t, sec e.g. v n . 447,
XIII. 7 3 2 , XV. 50 9 , 699, x x » . 18 5 , x x iv . 3 6 7 ; ii. 12 4 , 2 8 1 , iv. 4 9 3, x iv . 490.
 M ental L ife and the Body 1 23

Λ 11 this suggests time the directional aspect o f thought is at

the heart o f the m eaning o f νόος. 156 T h e m ost rem ark ab le
indication o f this is a sim ile w h ere the sw ift m ovem ent o f a
god between heaven and earth is like the m ovem ent o f a m an s
thought:

J i ; S ’ o r ’ a v q i ^ i νόος π ι/ ρ υ ς , o f τ* irrt πολλι/ν

γ α ΐα ν r’AijAouflcüj φ ρ ισ ί τ τ ίυ κ α λ ΐμ η ιο ι ν ο η σ η ι,
" ΐ ν θ ' cfiji', ή fi Oa” , μ ίν ο ιν ή η ιa l τ e η ο λ λ ά ,
ώ ϊ κ ρ α ιπ ν ώ ς μ ι μ α ν ία δ κ τττα το π ό τ ν ια / i Ρ1]-
(χν. 80-3; sim. Λ. Αρ. 448, Λ. Merc. 43^>)

T h e man stays still but the places he rem em b ers are sh iftin g :
the im age only makes sense if the νόος is not in the thin ker but
in the things at w hich his m em o ries arc d irected. T h e action
denoted by i>oiiV is a m ovem ent out o f the s e lf to the extern al
objects o f his m ental activities. It fo llo w s that in this aspect the
νόος itself is not a thing but a pro cess. H ence ships can be sw ift
as a w ing or a thought, νόημα (vii. 36; sim . / 1 . A p . i 8 6 ) ; , j 7 the
νόος o f an ineffective man is o f sh o rt reach, βράσσων (x. 226 ),
while that o f a rash youn g m an is too sw ift, κραιπνότΐρος
( x x i i i . 590). It is particu larly revealin g that w h en A th en a
beguiles the suitors she m isdirects their thoughts, τταρόπλαγξίν
. . . νόημα (xx. 346; sim . Λ. Ven. 254 ), ju st as one m ig h t d iv e rt
the flight o f an arrow (e.g. xv. 464); w h ile to think e rro n eo u sly
is to aim inaccurately and m iss the goal o f thought, νοήματος
ήμβροτίν ί'σΟλοΰ (vii. 292). S im ila rly the carefu l th in ker is
controlling the m ovem ent o f h is thought, νόον ττολυκΐρδέα
νι-,αών (xiii. 2 55 ; sim . xviii. 2 16 ). T h e p rin cip le is the sam e
v.bcn thought is less o vertly depicted in term s o f aim in g and
directing: by persuasion one turns an o th er's m ental ap p aratu s,

4 A fascinating sid eligh t is th ro w n o n th is b y D o u gin s F r a m e 's th e o ry

f i 97S: passim) that i-óor is a reflex o f the ro o t seen in the v e rb ιίο μ α ι an d is also
co-ordin ated on som e level w ith νόοτος. A lth o u g h the u ltim ate sh ap e o f
F ram e's argum ent is b eyo n d the scop e o f th is stu d y , on the v e rb a l le v e l it
chim es n eatly.
157 S e e m in g ly this is w hat O d ysse u s re fe rs to w h en he tells A c h ille s that he
is w iser than him : '1 w ould cast fu rth e r than y o u in th in k in g ', iy a . S i Kt a(!o
νοηματΐ y , τ,ραβαλοίμην \ ποΛΛΑ* (χ ιχ . i i 8 - : 9 ). It is not su fficien t to g lo ss the
vetb w ith an E n g lish m etap h o r like 's u r p a s s ', b ec au se th ere is no H o m e ric
authority fo r that exten sion o f m ean in g.
1 24 The Language o f Thought and L ife
ίτ ρ € φ € ν ' · · <VI· s im . I X. 6 0 0 - 1, X. 4 5 , X V. 5 2 , üi. I47
IV . 2 5 9 -6 0 , vu . 26 3, x ix. 479, etc.). M en who are ioOXoi yield to
p ersu asio n , and as such their φρίν<ς arc turnable. οτρ(πτα[
(W . 2 0 3). I f „005 travels to the object o f thought it makes
sense that a m an o f sound m ind is one w ho touches things
m en tally, ΐτηφαύψ -npantitoai (viii. 5 4 7 ).,SM In short, „óoy is the
ab stract, intangible thing that em erges from the tangible stuff
in the b reast, and behind an y one „005 this stu ff is the unity of
the h u m an b eing as psychological agent.
T h is is a fine distinction and it m ust not be pushed too far.
S in ce the th o u gh t-pro cess naturally produces thoughts, ideas,
m ental p ictu res that form the perm anent m ake-up o f the
P e rso n ality, eóoy can m ove closer than anything else in H om er’s
v o c a b u la ry to b ein g an intangible mental essence. W itness the
w a y T h e o c ly m e n u s includes it along w ith bodily m em bers in a
list o f his ow n attributes:
( ι ο ί μ ο ι ο φ θ α λ μ ο ί τ ( κ α ί ο ΰ α τα κ α ί π ό δ ίς άμ φ ιο
κ α ί „óoy ί ν σ·η) 0( π α ι τ ι τ υ γ μ ίν ο ς οι'δο* ά π κ ή ς. ( χ χ . 3 6 5 —6)

A still clearer exam p le o f this kind is the passage describing

O d y sse u s’ m en turned into sw ine, w here we have already
o b served the un iqu e substan tive use o f δίμay:
o f Sc a υ ώ ν μ ί ν ίχ ο ν κ ςφ α λ ά ς φ ω ν ή ν τ< τ ρ ίχ α ς τ*
κ α ί δ ίμ α ς , α ν τ ό ρ ΐ'οΰς ιρ· ίρ π ς δ ο ς ω ς το π ό ρ ο ς ττκρ.
(χ. 239—4 °; compare χ ν ιπ . 4 19 h)
A lth o u g h „óoy here seem in gly refers to the thoughts or con­
cep tio n s m ade b y the men, rather than to som e non-bodily
portion o f their m ake-up, it is easy to see how a forced contrast
betw een the shape o f the b ody and the thinking self might
p ro m p t the idea that „óoy is a disem bodied entity, the fixed
m ental centre o f m an. I f so, how ever, that idea has not been
brou ght to birth in the H om eric depiction o f m an.
T h is tendency is im plied in a subtle w ay when a νόος is
im agined as an agent of thought or planning. One considers
w hether it w ill achieve anything, t ï τι νόος ρ ίζα (xiv. 62); it can
have its own intentions, νόος Sc οι άλλα μα'οινάι (ii. 92 =
” * O n the nm h in uiiy in this e xp ressio n see H nin sw orth ad loc. So m ew h at
sim ilar is the im:iRc o f the Ουράς o f a jjrccd y man reachin g ou t fo r g ifts, δώρων
«TM/iaiVro θυμός (X. 4OI).
 M ental Life and the Body 125

xiii. 3 8 1); it hides secrets, τ ί . . . vóoj ivSoOi κ<ύθα; (xxiv. 474).

H ere the νόος is not an independent m ental agent inside the
man: rather, it is the things produced by the hum an agent that
arc taking on a life o f their own. T h e re is an illum inating
parallel here w ith μήτις, w hich we have already seen closely
merged with νόος in doublets (v u . 4 4 7; xix. 326, etc.). T h e
independent νόος is exactly paralleled by the autonom ous plan
or scheme, /it/tjs , that O dysseus im agines alm ost as a personal
being when it led him out o f Polyph em us’ cave:
. . . οφμη θ€ μ τ}τις S
< fó y n y * a v rp o io όϊομ€\Όν O avitaO at. ( x x . 2 0 —t ) 1

Although this speech is com plicated by the chim e between μη

ris and his ploy with the w ord ourts (ix. 366—7), the w ords make
sense only if his plan or stratagem is dim ly personified as a
being who led him out o f Polyphem us' cave (sim ix. 4 14 ). T h e
image may even suggest som ething like the personal M etis who
slept with Z eus, becam e A th en a’s m other, and was sw allow ed
by her consort.161 Although this is not an H om eric story it is
undoubtedly a very ancient one: and because food enters the
same apparatus in the breast as does the stu ff o f thought
(above, pp. 88-9), when Z eu s sw allow s M etis his action is
equivalent to w hat a thoughtful m ortal docs when he puts a
stratagem in his breast, μήτιν ίμβάλλΐο Ουμώι (xxiH . 3 1 3 ) . 162 Fo r
us, the crucial point is that a μήτις is som ething produced or
invented by thought, as when one weaves or spins it, μήτιν
νφαίνα (see C h. 7 , n. 49). I f we accept that voos and μήτις arc
closely akin or overlapping, the parallel suggests that in our last
group o f voos im ages it was the result or product o f m ental
activity, rather than the agent behind it, that was close to taking
on an independent localized existence.
W ith this we reach the lim its o f our argum ent for the
T h e m ore usual tendency is to see the secret as hidden in or b y the
thought: w itn ess μ ή κ \ ϊπ τ ι föcui (1. 13 2 ) , μ ή κινΟι « mui (1. 3 6 3 ; sim . viii. 548).
C o m p are ii. 2 79 . ix. 4 1 4 , x x iii. 12 4 - 5 .
161 T h e earliest source is H es. Theog. 8K&-900. S e c also H es. fr. 343 M - W
(dub.); Ste sich . fr. 2 3 3 P ; lb > c. fr. 298 P ; Λ. H om . 28.
R eyond this suggestio n is difficu lt to tell how closely the personal M etis
is tied to* Z e u s’ id en tity as thin ker o r plan n er, μ η τ ίιια Ζ ιν ς , though it is
interesting (albeit in n p ro b ab ly late source) that that epithet is applied to Z eu s
in /1. H um . 28. 4 in the context o f A th e n a 's parentage.
1 26 The Language of Thought ami L ife
dependence o f mental life on the body. T h e abstract or non­
bodily aspect o f H om eric psychology is the special province of
vóos alone am ong our nouns, and it is so in virtue o f the fact that
voos is bound up w ith the production o f ideas, voteV, so that it V'.
passes beyond the continuum o f agency and function which we >V
have sketched. Behind these products, m ental life is rooted in
the b odily unity o f man; and that unity is the im m ediate source
o f every act o f thought, o f all that is voos.
W e have now observed the relationship between the body
and m ental activity from three standpoints. F irst, we saw that
the stufT o f thought and em otion is one w ith the stu ff o f the
physical body. M o vin g to the other end o f the telescope, as it
w ere, we then observed that H om eric language recognizes
nothing that can be called the b ody: nothing, in other words,
w hich is flesh and blood as opposed to mind or spirit. Neither
category can be translated from our language to that o f Hom er.
L a stly , we have now seen that in practice the relationship
betw een the θυμόs group and the T o f H om eric man varies
in such a w ay that only the results o f thought, not their source,
can be decisively distinguished from the flesh and blood which
lurk behind them all. It is the b o d ily reality o f those mental
acts, free o f any concept o f an abstract or spiritual self, which
identifies θυμός and the other nouns in relation tb man. When
these points are com bined, H om eric m an stands revealed as a
continuum in w hom the sources and processes o f his mental
life arc in separably united with the substance o f what we would
now adays call the body'.
 — -_______ί

i ■

PART III

Death and the A fterlife

 5
T h e D ying G asp and the
Jo u rn ey to Hades

loss of >\v'J is nol tiff'drtlirf o f soul from hotly J

We have seen that lor H om er mental life is the inhalation o f
breath and its m ingling with blood and kindred (luids in the
breast, and hence that no part o f the living man can he
separated o ff as a mind im prisoned in the body. I f man lives
and has consciousness as an indivisible unity, what happens
when he d ies1 H ere we return to T h ere are m any
allusions to the loss o f som ething o f this name at the moment
ot death, and tn a few passages it is described as going to the
Underworld. T h e classic text is the lines that narrate the deaths
of Patroclus and H ector:
u< μΐΐ' t iV.n rM T<\Οχ AllxifW©
t?· \Λ i r tT m ^V\ti,
o* wo’ utU· 'vivida, .\iroi*o*rtp5,vntra ittu' r ir r .
(\M . S s 5 -7 = x \ n . 3 6 1 - 3 ^

W hatever the Φνχή is, here it leaves the hero’s youth and
nunhoad behind and Hies otl, bemoaning the grim prospect
ot the land o f the dead. Sim ilarly the proem o f the lliotl
describes how the W rath sent φοχαί to Hades and left the
men them selves as carrion:
woAAils ft' tfOifiovi φνχης ίΙ( 5» πρα(\ΐφ*ν
'jfHhtitï, lU’r o i'i δ< (Λιόσια r< 0\< m V «ootv
ο ’ι ι ι ν ο ΐ α ΐ r t ττΰοι. (|. J —5)

It is easy too easy— to map these images onto the dichotom y

of body and soul that inform s modern language and beliefs, so
as to say that here the im m ortal part o f Hom eric man departs
from his corpse. W e know that the name φνχή also belongs to
the wraith or ghost, the image o f the dead man that will live on
 i
13 0 Death and the Afterlife
. . . T
in the shad ow y afterlife in H ades. W hat could be sim pler than
to id en tify them w ith each other? T h e first objection to that
translation is o u r observation in C h apter 3: w hatever a ψιυχή is, '
it is not part o f the m ake-up o f the living m an, and its meaning
is restricted to the m om ent o f death. I f it is irrelevant to
identity and consciousness during his life, it cannot be right
to explain its loss as the departure o f h is soul or ghost or
spiritual core. H ere we are strengthened b y the lessons o f the
last chapter. I f m an lives and thinks in a w ay that allow s no
m eaning to term s like flesh and spirit or b ody and m ind, it
follow s that death m ust som ehow m ake sense in term s o f that
sam e conception o f hum an un ity. T h is is already suggested in
the proem passage, w here the things abandoned b y the ψυχαί
arc not corpses o r bodies but the men them selves, αυτοί.
S im ila rly w hen the ψυχή o f Patroclus or H ector departs it
leaves behind m anhood, άνδροτήτα, in other w ords the su b ­
stance o f the b o d ily hero. W hen H om eric m an dies he is not
divid ed into two parts: w hat, then, is this other thing that
leaves him at the m om ent o f death? I w ill try to answ er that
question by b egin n in g at the sim plest level o f H om eric
langunge and w o rkin g upw ards, to show how the im age of
the flight o f the ψυχή is built up on the basis o f a sim pler
conception o f w hat literally and v isib ly happens when a man
breathes his last and dies.

Loss of θυμός is loss o f breath and of life

W e saw that θυμός is essentially breath drawn into the lungs:
since to die is to breathe o n e's last, death is represented in plain
language as the d eparture o f θυμός. T h e dyin g man loses it, άττο
θυμόν äXtooev ( 1 . 20 5, V I I I . 90, 270, 3 58 , X . 4 5 2 , etc.); he falls to
the groun d bereft o f it, θυμού δΐυόμΐνος ( X X . 4 72; sim . I I I . 294); it
leaves, τον μόν Aure θυμός (iv. 47° · etc.). Sin ce this is the decisive
sign o f death, θυμός can be seen as the prize in m ortal com bat:
w hen one w arrio r kills another he takes it from him , φίλον 8'
ίξαίνυτο θυμόν (v. I 5 5 , etc.), or eV θυμόν êXoiro (e.g. V . 3 1 7 , 346,
xv ii. 2 3 6 ; sim . V . 6 7 3, 6 9 1, 852, xx ii. 388), or θυμόν άττηύρα
( V I . 17 , X . 495, xi. 2 0 3 , etc.). M o re precise im ages confirm that
ju st as θυμός in life is breath draw n into the lu ngs, so its loss is
 The Dying Gasp anil the Journey to Iladcs 131
the last gasp exp ired by the dyin g m an. O ccasio n ally this is
developed at length, as w hen H ipp od am as is slain :
η υ τ ά ρ ό θ υ μ ό ν AïnOr κ α ι Vjpuyrv, tuf δ τ ι τα ύ ρ ο ς
ή ρ υ γ ιν ΐ λ κ ό μ ιν ο ς Έ λ ικ ω ν ιο ν ά μ φ ι ΰ ν α κ τ α
κ ο ύ ρ ω ν ίλ κ ό ν τ ω ν , γ ά ν υ τ α ι S« τ t τ ο ΐς Έ ν ο α ίχ θ ιο ν ,
ω ς ά ρ α τ ό ν y ’ ύ μ υ ϊ 'ό ν τ α AiV* όστχα θ υ μ ό ς α γ η ν ω / ι , (XX. 4 ® 3“ ^ )
He snorts out breath, θυμόν aioOt, like a b ellow in g b u ll,1 and
this encapsulates the m ost profound loss o f life. In an other
death the θυμός is breathed out as a stage in the com in g o f death
rather than as a su m m ary o f the w hole event:
a δ ’ ύ π τ ιο ς tv κ ο ν ίη ισ ι
κ ά π π ς ο ιν , ά μ φ ω χ ιϊ ρ * φ ίλ ο ις ίτ ά ρ ο ια ι π ιτ α ο ο α ς ,
θ υ μ ό ν ά π ο π ν ιίω ν , ό δ ’ «ττ ίδ ρ α μ ιν 5ς ρ ’ ί β α λ ΐ ν π ιρ ,
Π ι ίρ ω ς , ο ύ τ α &i ö o v p i π α ρ ’ ό μ φ α λ ά ν , ι κ &’ ίίρ α π ά σ α ι
χ ύ ν τ ο χ α μ α ί χ ο λ ά δ ς ς , τ ό ν δ ι σ κ ό τ ο ς ό σ ο ι κ α λ υ φ ι.
(ιν. 522—6; sim. χ ιιι. 653—5)

First he falls, then he breathes out his last gasp, fin ally the
decisive blow is struck and the darkness o f death co vers o ver
his eyes. H ere the dislocation o f the usual sequen ce o f even ts in
a killing has led the poet to separate the breathing out o f the
θυμός from the m oment o f death itself, sh ow in g the m ean in g o f
the expiration in an especially tangible w ay.
Even w ithout the w ord θυμός the final groan that sig n als
death com es to the fore in a particu larly savage k illin g w h ere a
warrior is gored in the pit o f the stom ach:
1 T h e verb άΐαθι is o th erw ise attested o n ly once, d e sc rib in g the death o f a
horse in battle: ó S ' ϊβ ρ α χ ι θνμύν d ,αθων, | κάδ δ* c?reo* ίν κονί-ηισι μ α κ ώ ν, αττδ 5*
Λττ·»το θυμός (χ ν ι. 4 * 8 -9 ). H ere, still m ore cle a rly than in the h u m an d eath , the
verb m ust refer to vio le n t gasp in g o r sn ortin g o u t. T h e fo rm άϊαθον is alm o st
certainly cognate w ith qioi·, w h ich is used w hen on e d e scrib e s h o w he lo st his
breath and con sciousn ess by sw o o n in g, φίλον άϊον ήτορ {x v . 2 5 2 ; see b e lo w ,
p. 130 ). H ow ever, the nature o f the sem an tic lin k is d o u b tfu l. C h an train e (s .v .
*<“ “ ) regards ά(/)ιοι· as the im p e rfe ct and ά(χ),οβον the ao rist o f a v e rb
hut this is not certain ; F risk (s.v . ά.*ο»οη·) sa y s o n ly that dlov an d άϊαθον are
•som ehow con n ected 1, w h ile R isch ( 19 7 4 : $ 1 0 1 ) sh o w s that the sig n ifican ce o f
such form s in -taO- is alw ays d ifficu lt to pin d o w n , since thev are attested in
some verbs for the present tense and in oth ers for the ao rist. It is an o b v io u s
likelihood that both mo.· and élafloi· are tied to ό(/)η μ ι, w ith so m e th in g lik e the
same sense 'b lo w . gasp , breathe o u t’ , though L f g r E (s.v . άϊαθον) c o n sid e rs this
possible on ly. S e e also Ju n ko at x v . 2 5 2 .
 The D ying Gat/) ami the Journey to l ladet «33
something deeper than what we now adays m ight understand
by the visib le realities o f the d yin g gasp.

Loss of ψυχή is likewise loss of breath

I f to lose θυμός is to gasp out the last breath, what does it mean
to lose ψυχή? A lre ad y (C h. 3, pp. 56 -8) we have observed
A chilles' v ivid im age o f the ψνχή that cannot return once it has
crossed over the b arrier o f the teeth, erret ap xtv apeiferat cpxos
οδόντων (ix. 409). F o r him , clearly, it is som ething that leaves
the m outh: when he risks his life he is ψυχήν παριιβαλλάμΐνος
(ιχ. 322), casting it about time and again as he alm ost loses his
last breath (C h . 3, p. 56 n. 3). S im ila rly when Patroclus or
Hector dies, the ψινχή departs or (κΟίων (xvt. 856 = x x tl. 362).
plOta is a rare w ord, but in early A eo lic and in the A ttic
tragedians, p i 0 ο ς in the sin gular m eans ‘ face’ ,'’ and there is no
reason to think that I lom er uses the w ord in a differen t sense.
T h is is corroborated by the only other H om eric attestation,
where Priam predicts what w ill happen to him after the enem y
have taken his life,
ir r s t κ ΐ Tir « ( t f χ ιιλ κ ίΖ it
τύ ψ α ς ή Ι ßiikruv jxO iu iv tK Ονμόν < λ η τα ι. (X X II. 6 7 —8)

Prom our study o f θυμός it w ill be clear that unless ptOluiv I k

means the same as tV peXiaiv— which there is no reason to
believe5— the likelihood is that P riam is d escribing the
4 Sec S o p h . A n t. 529 and E u r. I I F 12 0 5 , both in ly ric s. T h e w ord is also
attested in u fragm ent o f S a p p h o (2 2 . 3 L - P ) , though this is less clear: later
lines refer c le arly to n g ir l’ s b e a u ty , b u t the im m ediate con text o f fiiOos is
m issing. O th erw ise the ancient evid en ce is sch o larly. S c h o l. A and b T at
XXII. 68 (cf. also A at x v t. S jf i, b T at x x u 36 2) say that jriOos is the A eolic
equivalent o f npoauitroi·, citin g the com p ou n d pcflo/iaAi'Sas— su ggestive o f
Sappho, though no so u rce is give n — us equ ivalen t to tvrrpoaturrous, and they
also cite D io n y siu s T h r a x fo r the v ie w that the ψ υχαί o f Patroclu s and H ector
leave through the m outh. F ris k (19 6 6 : 2 9 1 - 4 ) holds that ρΐθος has a sem antic
range exten d in g from ‘ face* to ’ap p earan ce' to ’ b o d ily m cm b cr(s)', from
Gesicht to G estalt. T h is is sp e cu lative , and is prom pted b y the un necessary
desire to m ake piOta e xactly eq u ivalen t to jir’Aea. (F o r etym ological su g g e s­
tions, all gu essw o rk , see F ris k s.v.)
A n u n n ecessarily A n a ly tic solution is p roposed b y L c u m an n (19 5 0 ), 2 1 8 ­
22. and S n e ll ( 19 5 3 ) , 1 0 - 1 2 (cf. also R egen b o gen (19 4 8 ), 1 3 - 1 4 ; also Jan k o at
XVI. 856.). T h e y hold that I k piOiwv m eans ’ front the face' or ‘ from the m outh'
134 Death and the A fterlife
departure o f breath from his m outh. T h e use o f plural as
‘m outh, lip s’ and singular as ‘face’ is paralleled b y Irish beat
and L atin os, so there is no sem antic difficulty.
W hatever is happening w hen P atroclu s’ or H ecto r's ψυχή
flics to H ades, it is rooted in the sam e source and at the same
m om ent as the departure o f θυμός. T h u s it is that the loss o f the
two things can be co-ordinated: A n tin o u s prophesies that
O d ysseu s’ bow w ill deprive m any m en o f these two things,
7το,\λούί· . . . κεκαδήοεt | θυμού και ψυχής (xx i. 15 3 —4, 17 0 —t), and
likew ise D iom ed es strips T ro ja n s ’ arm our after killing them,
θυμού και ψυχής κΐκαδών (xt. 334 )· T h is suggests that in death
the m eanings o f these two w ords are very close to each other,
w ith no decisive d ivid ing line between them . W e can easily
show that the b ulk o f references to the departure o f ψυχή
exactly reprodu ce the pattern that w e observed for that of
θυμός.
F irst, in the sim p lest sense to die is to lose this thing. Men
w ho have been killed in battle arc ψυχάς όλεσαυτες
(xIII. 76 3 = XXIV. 168); a spear-thrust in the gullet is aimed at
the place w here the kill w ill be sw iftest, Γι’α Tf ψυχής ΰικιατος
όλεθροs (x x il. 325);*’ Eum aeus believes his m aster is now dead,
ψυχή be λέλοιττεν (xiv. 13 4 ); a pig is slaughtered, roe δ'έλιπε ψυχι)
(xiv. 426; cf. V. 696, see below , pp. 15 2 - 3 w ith n. 4 1); and
O dysseus w onders w hether to m erely knock an opponent down
or to kill him outright: μερμήριζε . . . | ή ελάοει' ώς μιν ψυχή λότοι
αΰθι ττεοόντα (xviii. 9 0 -1)· S eco n d ly, in a sligh tly more com plex
im age the killer takes his victim ’ s ψυχή. O dysseus tells his
follow ers to slaughter all the lew d servant-girls, εις ό κε
■παοειυν | ψυχάς εξαψέλησΟε (xxii. 443“ 4)· H ector says that he
w ill respect the dead A ch illes if he succeeds in killing him, σήυ
at 856 = x x i l. 3 6 2 , w ith φυχή im agined as breuth, b u t that ρ ιθ ίω ν tie at
X V I.
m eans 'fro m the lim b s', that line being the w ork o f a late poet w ho did
X X I I . i>8
not fu lly un derstan d the epic language. (O n the general question o f in ter­
polation in the p assage, see R ic h a rd so n 's co n servative note at X X I I . 66 -76 .)
T h e arg u m en t o f S n e ll and L c u m an n d ep en d s on the view that θυμός cannot
be lost us b rcn ih , w h ich throughout this stu d y w e hove found good reason to
reject.
* C o m p are : του 5’ αν κορυθαϊολος "Εκτωρ | αύίρνοντα nap' u/μου, όΟι κληΐι
nnofpytt | αΰχίυα τι ατι')0ός τ<, μάλ,οτά τ» καίριου «οτι. | τήι μ tni οΐ μίμαώτα
βάλςυ λίθυυι άκρια«ντι ( V I I I . 324-7)· M u c h the sam e part o f the b o d y is identified
as the b est place, μάλιοτα . . . καίριου, fo r a m ortal blow .
 The Dying Gasp and the Jo u rn e y to Hades >35

Si φοχήν άφίλωμαι (χ χ ιι. 2 57 ). A d d ressin g the dead H e c to r in

her lam entation, H ecuba recalls w hat A c h illes did after k illin g
him, θ(ΰ . . . cnei ίξ ίλ ΐτο ψυχήν ταναήκίϊ χαλκώι (XXIV. 754)·
T ogether, the tw o gro u p s o f passages recall the usual p attern
for the loss o f θυμός: to die is to lose it, to kill is to w in it from
the foe, and since victo ry is the foe's death it becom es a sign o f
the prize fo r w hich they stru gg le. A ll this su ggests that in
essence the loss o f ψυχή is the sam e event as the loss o f θυμός,
the sudden exp iration o f the last breath.
A fascinating sid eligh t is thrown on this m atter b y two
difficult passages w here ψ υ χ ή escapes d irectly from the chest
when it is pierced by the en em y’s w eapon. P atroclu s h u rls his
weapon into S arp e d o n ’s breast, ί ν θ ' a p a rr φ ρ ί ν ί ς ί ρ χ α τ α ι α μ φ '
άδινόν κ-ήρ (χνι. 4 8 1); after the kill, he pu lls out his sp ear and the
φρίνα slip out o f the w ound, b rin gin g the ψ υ χ ή w ith them :
t> 6<: λ ά ζ (V α τή Ο ια ι βαίνουν
cK χ ρ ο ο ς <λκ€ So pυ, ττροτί 6i 1{ιρίνος α υ τ ΰ η έ π ο ν τ ο ,
TOIO S ' ά μ α φ υ γ ή ν Τ( κ α ί ίγ χ ο ο ς c fr p iu r ' α ιχ μ ή ν . ( χ ν ι . 5° 3—5)

T h e last line em erges as a strikin g, but not an extrav ag an t,

image if we see the ψ υ χ ή as air hissin g out o f the p u n ctu red
lung. In the second exam ple ψ υ χ ή rushes out w hen a m ortal
blow is struck to the flank:
Λ τ ρ α δ τ ]ς S a p ίττίΐΘ 1 TTtpTjvopa, π ο ιμ ένα λ α ώ ν ,
ουτα κ ατά λαττάρην, δ ιά δ ' ivT tpa. χ α λ κ ό ς ά φ υ σ σ ί
5η ιώ σ α ς, Φ υχή S i κ α τ ' ούταρίχτην ώ τ ιιλ ή ν
έοσ υτ tTTtιγομέντ), τόν S i σκ ό το ς ó a a c κ ά λ υ φ (. ( χ ΐ ν . 5 1 6 —1 9 )

Some scholars have cited this passage fo r the theory that ψ υ χ ή

tan be blood, here pouring out o f the g a sh .8 It is ju st po ssib le
that this could be the m eaning, in rather the sam e w ay as μίνας
can be bluod w ithin the breast as w ell as breath draw n into it
'.see Ch. 4 , pp. 9 0 -2 ); how ever, since λ α π ά ρ η is the ho llow
under the ribs, it m akes better sense to sec ψ υ χ ή in this passage
as breath, im agined as if released su d d en ly w hen the b reast is
T h is is the su ggestio n o f Ja n k o ad loc.: 'T h e neat zeu gm a o f 50 5 is ap t: the
Γ ' Ih a 'tT “ Γ 1’ " * CSCaP" ,hrOUKl> ,h e w o u n d ·' C o m p a re the
idea .hat a sp e a r-th ru « .n the svm dpipe is the swi/test loss o f the d y in g gasp ,
ψυχής ujκίστος oAcθρος (XXll. 3 2 5 ). J ® b ^
* S e e Böhm e ( . 9 z9 ), 2 y , W ard en ( . 9 7 .) , 9 7 : C la u s (.98 « ), 6 t .
 •3 6 Death mill the A fterlife
rent open from below. 1 he key words laavτ' {πΐίγημίΐ'τ) ure ut
least ns well suited to rushing breath ns to oozing blood.1" The
idea of the breath hissing out of the wound is purutleled by the
case of n man whose heart is transfixed by a spear:

V tH 1 ol' ncnralpouaa κ α ί ούρόαχον ^ rt\όμ ιζtv

iy X fo s . (X H l. 4 4 2 - 4 )

W hen the spear sticks in the apparatus o f his breast it releases

the breath in it and m akes the butt-end o f the spear quiver. I do
not know w hether it is anatom ically possible for breath to hiss
out so violen tly when the body is pierced by a blade, but the
close parallel between these passages suggests that H om er can
en visage this as another version o f the loss o f breath that
sym b o lizes death.

v F o r λαιταρη as ‘ (lank* see i l l . 35 9 = V II. 2 5 3 . and csp. x x il. 30 7 , w here a

sw o rd in its scab b ard lies ΰττά λαπάρην.

ru sh in g o f air o r w in d (c .g . vi. 2 0 ; see C asw ell (19 9 0 ), 5 3 - 5 ), and co rres­

p o n d in g ly the im p u lsive m otion o f θυμός in acts o f w ill (1. 17 3 , vi. 3 6 1, ix . 308,
etc.), b u t also the sp u rtin g o f blood fro m w oun ds (v. 208, x i. 458, x x i. 167);
this m ean s that the verb on its ow n does not pro ve the point cither w ay. (4)
T h e action denoted b y m / y u is that o f fo rcin g or im pellin g by pressure,
e ith er co n crete or ab stract. T h u s , a stone w eigh s dow n a m an, άχθος όπιόγπ
fX I1. 4 5 2 ); a vessel full o f w ater is m ade to seethe, 1Τ7(ιγήμα·ης πυρ! ττοΑΛώι
(x x i. 36 2 ); a w a rrio r is fo rced back b y a hail o f m issiles, in<ly< 7o yüp ßtXttaat
(v. 6 2 2 = X I I I . 5 1 1 ) ; and n ecessity com p els m en to a certain course o f action,
άνα γνα ίη γά ρ errriyri (v i. 85; x ix. 7 3) or πόνος . . . tirn yr (xi. 54). N o te, how ever,
that ό π ιΐγ ω is not often used o f sp u rtin g liq u id , but occurs m any tim es for
ru sh in g air or w ind. W ater b ursts onto a sh ip when the gale rushes on it,
« ra é r'« V (/y i)i | ϊς ανόμου (χν. 3 8 2 - 3 ) ; w heat is separated from ch aff un der the
fo rce o f the w in d s, όπςνγομόνων ανόμων (v. 5 0 1) ; a ship arriv e s sw iftly in port
b ecau se o f the the w in d , ό π η γ ι γά ρ οΰρος arnjpwv (xii. 16 7 ) or όπςιγομόνη Δ lóf
οΰρωι (χ ν . 2 9 7 ): a sh ip is sm ashed w hen it is beaten upon b y tem pest,
όττίιγομόιτην άνόμωι v a l νύμ ατι πτρ/ώι (xxili. 2 3 5 )· A lth ou gh the last exam ple
co m b in es w in d and w ater, the other instances cited show· that óntlyai is
e sp ec ia lly a p p ro p riate fo r ru shing air; and given that there is no H om eric
parallel for its application to blood, it is sim ple and econom ical to accept that
the Ί>υχό) h ere is m ost likely to be air, exactly us at x v i. 50 5.
 The D ying Gasp ami the Journey to Hades >37

The loss of ψυχή can l>c its annihilation

T h is loss o f breath is a visib le, sublun ary phenom enon, anti on
the face of it this suggests that the departure o f ψ υ χ ή need not of
itself im ply its flight to the H ades o f m yth. T h is suspicion is
bolstered by the appearance o f ψ υ χ ι) in doublet expressions
where two nouns are paired in such a w ay that they almost
amount to a unity in their context. C on sid er the form ula τοΓ> δ’
αυΟι ΧϋΟη ψ υ χ ή τ ( μ έ ν ο ς r e (ν. 2 9 6 = V III. I 23 = 3>5)< narrating a
death: since μένος cannot su rvive death, the pairing suggests
that what is referred to here is not a flight to H ades but the
disappearance and extinction o f the final breath. It is d issi­
pated, λϋΟ η, ju st as elsew here death is its destruction, ψ υ χ ή ς . . .
6λ ( 0ρ ο ς (X X II. 3 2 5), and those who die are ψ υ χ ή ς ό Χ έ σ α ν τ ις
(X III. 763 = .x x iv . 168). T h e im plication is the sam e w hen
Hera looks to the prospect o f S arp ed o n ’s death, έ π ή ν δ ή τ ό ν y«
λ ίπ τμ ψ υ χ ή τί κ α ί α ιώ ν (XVI. 453): α ίιό ν slips aw ay into nothing at
death (see C h. 4 , pp. 1 1 3 - 1 5 ; C h. fi, pp. 1 6 0 - 1 ) , so that unless
there is a harsh zeugm a here the plain sense seem s to be that in
a single m oment ψ υ χ ή re κ α ί αιών w ill be a n n ih ila te d ." H ere and
in the phrases τ ό ν δ ' eX m e ψ υ χ ή (xiv. 426; sim . x v iii. 90—1) and
ψ υ χ ή δ έ λίλοιττίν (xiv. 134 ) the verb m ay m ean that the breath
has vanished or been lost for ever, not that it has flown to
another w orld— ju st as the w ords end Χ ίπ ο ν tot . . . ά ν α κ τ α
(xxii. 1 19) mean that the k in g ’s arrow s have been used up and
no more rem ain, and to say νιϊ»· δ 'ή δ - η π ά ν τ α X tX o m e v (xiv. 2 13 ) is
to say that good fortune has passed aw ay and disappeared for
ever.
So far, these passages suggest rather than prove that ψυχή can
he imagined as vanishing into nothing: but that interpretation
is irresistible when we face Odysseus’ words as he crows over
Polyphemus with the wish that he could kill him outright:
αι γαρ örj ψυχής tc και αιώνός ac Suva(μην
cuvtv ποηιοας ττίμψαι 6όμον lltöog cTaco. (ix. 523—4)

He would like to send him to Hades bereft of ψυχή and αιών:

unless the craftiest of Homeric speakers is misusing his own
11 N otice E u rip id e s' strange re-evocation o f this phrase, ivimxvatv αΐώra
(fr. 8 0 1 N ), 'he b reathed out h is life ’ s essen ce' in death.
138 Death and the A fterlife
vocabulary— which is very u n lik ely1112*— these w o rd s im ply that ,·;Λ
it is possible for H om eric man to be im agined ns losing his φ υ χ ή '
at death and then going to H ades in bodily form . Our
investigation o f that strand o f thought belongs elsew here, but
for the present this passage w ill stand as the m ost direct proof
that the loss o f φ υ χ ή can som etim es be no m ore than the loss of
the tangible and m ortal substance o f the last breath that is
elsew here called θ υ μ ό ς , ή τ ο ρ is som etim es found instead o f θυμός
in this context (c.g. xt. 1 1 5 , x x i. 2 0 1 , xxtv. 5 0 ),,J and in most
contexts φ υ χ ή m ay sim p ly be a variant o f the sam e kind.
C om pare the w ords in w hich N esto r talks hyperbolically of
Peleu s’ w ish to die o f sham e, and expresses it by im agining a
θ υ μ ό ς rather than a φ υ χ ή descending to H ad es:14 -I
Ti.
2?
το ύ ς νύν t l tttuioooiτ α ς ύ φ ' "Ε κ τ ο ρ ι ττάντας ά κο όσ αι, Sy
πολλά K tV ά θ α ν ά το ισ ι φ ίλ α ς άνά χ * ΐρ α ς a tïp a i,
θ υ μ ό ν α π ό μ ι λ ι ώ ν &ύι·αι Só/ioi’ 'Ιιδ ο ς (ίσου. (V it. 12g —3 · ) ' S

T h is suggests again that in certain circum stances H om er can

flatly ignore the conception that the φ υ χ ή is what makes the
descent to the nether w orld. T h e flight o f the φ υ χ ή to Hades
begins to look less like a fixed canon o f H om eric b elief about
m an, and m ore like an occasional elaboration on the basis of
that sim p ler m o tif o f the loss o f breath.

11 C . S o u rv in o u -In w o o d has su ggested (in conversation) that Odysseus

here, b ein g rash and angry, has com b in ed tw o fo rm ula-patterns to produce a
vau n t w h ich is se lf-co n trad icto ry acco rd in g to H o m e r’s own lights. 13ut it is
not ch aracteristic o f H o m e ric rhetoric for sense to break dow n: an im p as­
sion ed speech m ay be m ore extended o r com plex than in narrative language,
or it m ay be less dependent on fo rm u lae, but there is no evidence that H om er
m akes his ch aracters speak in coh eren tly fo r die sake o f effect. (S . W est
su g g e sts as a p o ssib le excep tio n the rath er garbled sequence o f ideas in
T e le m a c h u s ’ sp eech at ii. 7 0 —9; there, h o w ever, there is nothing approaching
a b su rd ity o r co n trad ictio n , but on ly path os: note the audience s *react:on,
II. 8 0 -3 ).
,J A lso in sw o o n s: XV. 2 5 2 ; x x iv . 34 5 .
14 O tto ( 1 9 2 3 : 44) e xp lain s this passage o n the gro u n d s that θυμός here is
used in the sense o f ’ life ', so that it is not literal: a w easelish explanation
C o m p a re L a e r te s ' ullusion to loss o f breath in death, θυμόν άττό μ 'λ ΐω ν
φθίοθαι (x v . 354)·
 The Dyitig Gasp and the Journey to Hades 139

θυμοί can be lost temporarily by swooning

I f the loss o f breath is the loss o f consciousness and life, it
s h o u l d not be su rp risin g that the phenom enon o f sw o on in g is
r e n d e r e d in exactly the sam e w a y .16 T h e m ost detailed d escrip ­
tion o f this experience com es in the course o f the battle by the
ships in the Iliad, when H ector is w ounded, loses co n scio u s­
ness, and then reco vers.17 A ja x flings a boulder at him , it strikes
him on the breast and knocks him to the groun d (x iv . 409—2 1) ,
and as his com rades carry him aw ay from the fie ld jic is gasp in g
heavily, β a p t a σ τ ( ν ά χ ο ν τ α (432); when they douse him w ith
water he regains his breath and looks around him , α μ τ τ ν ύ ν θ η κ α ί
avi&pcLKtv ό φ Ο α λ μ ο ΐσ ,ν (436); then he collapses again and sw oons,
τι!) Sc 01 oaat | ν υ ζ έ κ ά λ υ φ ΐ μ έ λ α ιν α (438-9 ) because the blow is
still overcom ing the breath o f his consciousness, β έ λ ο ς 8' en
θ υ μ ό ν ( 8ά μ ν α (438—9). W hen he recalls this later he w ill specify
that he had breathed out this consciousness, φ ίλ ο ν ά ϊο ν η τ ο ρ
(χν. 2 52). ju st as in the deaths w here the clo sely related verb
ά ϊο θ ο ν denoted the correspon din g event, θ υ μ ό ν a ic O e κ α ί ή ρ υ γ ΐ ν
(xx. 403, XVI. 46S )., s T h e n Z eu s looks dow n on him as he lies
gasping and vom iting blood:
Ε κ τ opa 5* «V 77r (3Ui)i ISr KCiplvov, (Ιμφ ί δ" ir a t p o i
rjaO’, ό ö ’ ά μ γ α λ ίω ι ΐ χ < τ ’ ά οΟ μ α τ4 κ ή ρ ά π ιν ν σ ο ια ν ,
α ί μ ' èp tojv. (XV. c>—I ι )

Whether or not κ -fjp ά π ι ν ύ ο σ ω ν m eans ‘ unable to catch his

breath’ , as 1 have proposed elsew h ere,19 the sequ en ce o f
events is clear: he is groaning and gasp in g, b y losin g his

It could be arg u ed that the resem blan ce betw een sw o o n in g an d death is

due sim ply to the paucity o f w o rd s and exp re ssio n s in H o m e r's v o cab u lary :
for exam ple K ir k says at v. 696 that the d escrip tio n s o f sw o o n s in the I lia d
•lira« in different w ays on a form ulae term in o lo gy p rim a rily d esign ed fo r
describing d eath '. B u t this cannot b e rig h t, if o n ly because se ve ral o f the
expressions used (e.g. άπό S i φυχι)>· Ικά π υα ο ι) h ear no resem b lan ce to the
form ulae that w e actu ally see H o m er u sin g for d eath . I b elieve H o m e r has the
w ords to say e xactly what he m eans.
I’ ° n die realism o f this passage see F rie d ric h ( 19 5 6 ) , 3 3 - 6 .
I f eioa IS related to diaffov an d dr/μ,, it refe rs d ire c tly to b reath in g out: see
η. i ubovc.
' J · C ‘ arkf · " ^ ν ύ α κ ω and its C o gn ates: a P ro b le m in S im o n id e s, fr.
50S (O lo lla , fo rthcom ing), in clu d in g som e m aterial repeated here.
140 Death and the A fterlife
b reath he has lost con sciousn ess, and the one experience
im plies the other. T h is is fu rth er confirm ed when Z e u s says
that he is going to send A pollo to help H ector back to battle: he
w ill again breathe v ig o u r into him , nur«? 8' {μπυςύσιμαι μόνος, so
that he w ill forget the pains that trouble him in the organs of
his breast, α ’ μιν relpovoi κατά φρίvas (xv. 6o—i). Indeed, when
A p o llo finds him he is gathering new consciousness, veor 8'
èaaytlptTo θυμόν (xv. 240), in other w ords breathing norm ally.
T h is is not the on ly exam ple w here the tem porary loss of
con scio u sn ess is defined as d eparture o f breath. W hen A ja x is
h ard -p ressed and exhausted in the m idst o f foes he has
d ifficu lty b reath in g and cannot inhale, aid 8' άργαλόωι c\eτ '
άαΟματι . . . ov8é ττηι <ιχ<ν | άμπνενσαι (X V I. 10 9 —1 1 ) ; when
M en elau s recovers fro m the shock and pain o f a w ound his
b reath is gathered back into his breast, αφορρόν ol θυμός ivl
σττ)θ(σσιν άγόρθη (iv. 1 52); and H ector recovers from a sudden
sw o on b y inh aling, άμπνυτο (xi. 356 -6 0 ). W hen O dysseus
arrives at S ch eria he is breathless and speechless w ith exhaus­
tion , airvevaros και άναυδο* (v. 456), b y the tim e he has sw um to
the shore, b u t he recovers his breath: άμττι·υτα και es φρόνα θυμός
άγέρθη (ν. 458), and later he recalls how he lay on the river­
ban k w h o o p in g up air, ίκ 8' erreaον θυμηγςρόων (vii. 2 8 3 ).'

φυχή is gasped out, θυμός is breathed back in

A ll this sh ow s that the loss o f breath can indicate tem porary
loss o f con sciousn ess as well as death. F o r us, the significant
part is that in som e scenes o f sw ooning this gasp is called φυχ-η
at the m om ent it is exhaled .21 W hen A n drom ach e sees her
husband dead, darkness covers over her eyes and she col­
lapses:

J" F o r θυμν γιρ<υη· h e re ns co rresp o n d in g 10 θυμός αγίρΟη, see L c u m an n

( 19 5 0 ) , 1 1 6 - 1 7 , w ith n. 8 3.
21 O n φ ν χ ή in sw o o n s, cf. B ickel (19 2 6 ), 5 2 - 8 ; B öh m e (19 2 9 )· 97“ *° 2"*
O nion s ( 1 9 5 1 ) , 4 4 -f·. T h e s e passages nrc u se fu lly collected und d iscu ssed b y
N ch rin R ( 10 4 7 ) . w h o uses u rather com p lex etym ological arg u m en t to draw
out the con n ection b etw een the exp iratio n o f breath ns ψ υ χ ή and the co rres­
p o n d in g drnw ing in o f breath ns θυμός (or ccptivalentB) in positive m ental
activ ity . I find the detoils o f N e h rin g 's chain o f rensoning im p en etrable b u t his
arg u m en t seem s to corresp on d b road ly to wliut is udvnnccd here.
 The H ying Gasp and the Jo urney to Hades 141
ri)Vδε κ α τ ' δφΟαλμΰιν ερεβεννή νΰξ Ικάλυψεν,
ήριπε δ’ εξοπίαο), ηιτά δε ψυχήν εκάπυααε. (XXII. q(>6—j)

Mere when she loses con sciousn ess she releases ψυχή: the verb
εκάπυααε is d ifficult, but if it is cognate w ith the noun καπνός—
which seem s irresistib le— it m u st mean that A n drom ach e em its
the φυχή as an evan escen t p u ff o f b reath .22 W hen she recovers
and inhales, w hat is gathered back into her lungs is called θυμός:

ή δ’ ε π ε ι uvv ά μ π ν υ τ ο κ α ί ε ς φ ρ ένα θ υ μ ό ς ά γ ί ρ θ η ... (ΧΧΙΙ. 475)

S
T h ere is a fu rth er parallel in the last book o f the Odyssey, when
old L aertes recognizes his son. H is knees and his breath are
loosed and he collapses:

w i ψ ά τ ο , το ύ δ ’ α ό το ϋ λ ΰ τ ο γ ο ν ν α τ α κ α ι φ ίλ ο ν ή τ ο ρ ,
ο ή μ α τ * ά ν α γ ν ό ν το ς τά ο ι ε μ π ε δ α π ε φ ρ α δ ' Ό δ ν α ο ε υ ς ,
ά μ φ ί δ ί π α ιδ ί φ ίλ α ιι β ά λ ε π ή χ ε ε , το ν δ ί π ο τ ι οι
εΐλ εν ά π ο ψ ύ χ ο ν τ α π ο λ ύ τ λ α ς δ ία ς Ό δ υ α α ε ΰ ς . ( x x i v . 3 4 5 —8)

It is reasonable to accept that the p articip le ά π ο ψ ύ χ ο ι π α refers to

the gasping out o f ψ υ χ ή ·,2* and the exact m atch w ith the sw oon
o f A ndrom ache becom es clear as H o m er d escrib es his return to
consciousness:
2: A p art from the e v id e n ce o f κεκαφ-ηότα d iscu sse d in the next note, there is
startling if un confirm nble co rro b o ra tio n o f th is in on in trigu in g scries o f
glosses in H csych iu s: κάιτν«· ττι·<£μα; Karros ψ νχή, πνεύμα: ίγ κ α π ν ε ι· εμπνεΐ',
κίκηφε τ ίθνηκεν. A ll o f th ese w o rd s arc oth e rw ise lo st, and life is too short to
w onder w h ere they cam e fro m ; b u t th ey su g g e st that vario u s reflexes o f this
sam e root w ere ap p lied to d ifferen t asp ects o f the p ro cess o f b reath in g out and
dying.
5) H ere and in the fa llo w in g p ages I p rin t άμπνυτο, άμπνύνθη, etc. w here the
O xford text has εμπνυτο, ίμ π νν νθ r). T h e r e is good e vid en ce that the form s in 1μ -
stent trom an em en d atio n im p osed on the trad itio n for extern al reasons by
A ristarch u s (see sch olia at v . 697, x iv . 4 36 . x x n . 4 7 5 , v. 458; and for the M S
authority for the fo rm s in up- see A lle n 's critical ap p aratu s throughout).
N eh rin g ( 19 4 7 : 109) su g g e sts reasons w h y later G re e k usage m ay h ave led
A ristarch u s to m ake the ch an ge. N a tu ra lly there cannot be m uch difference in
m eaning b etw een the tw o fo rm s, and the point is not w orth labouring here;
how ever, sin ce uvanvicj and the nou n ch-tinrcvoit are used in several u n im ­
peachable p assages fo r the reg ain in g o f breath in rest after toil (e.g. x l. 38 2 ,
800, XVI. 42, 30 2 , XIX. 2 2 7 . XXI. 534), it m akes good sense to rend the sam e verb
for the v irtu ally id en tical act o f re g ain in g con sciousn ess after a sw oon.
74 S ee also N e h rin g (19 4 7 ) , 10 7 .
142 Death and the A fterlife
αi'ταp *jtft ft' ίίμτΓΓί/ΤΗ και <ς φρΐνα Ονμης αγιρθη,
Ι ξ α ϋ τ ις μόΟ οισιν ά μ α β ό μ ιν ο ς r tp o a itin t . . . (x x iv . 3 4 9 ~ 5 ° )

W hat he breathed out was φνχή, but when he recovers con ­

sciousness and he breathes in it is θυμός that is gathered into his
breast. A third, less clear exam ple o f this aspect o f ψ υ χ ή com es
when Sarpedon is w ounded and briefly loses consciousness:

row S' ίλιπς ijivxv, κατά δ' οφθαλμών κίχυτ’ άχλΰς,

α ΰ τ ις 8 ' ά μ π ν ύ ν ϋ η , v t p i S i π ν ο ιή Β ο ρ ία ο
ζώγρ<ι ίπιπνιΐουαα κακώς κςκαφηότα θυμόν. (ν. 6g6—8)

F irst he gasps out φνχή; then he inhales again, αμττνύνθη, and he

is rev iv ed 25 by the w ind, w hich blows the breath o f conscious­
ness into him w hile he is still weakened or dissipated in respect
o f θυμός. A gain the breath lost is called φυχή. It is noteworthy
that κικαφηότα seem s to be an intransitive perfect form o f the
sam e verb as ικάττυσσιν in A ndrom ache’s sw o on :3'1 ju st as she
gasped out her φυχή when she collapsed, so he is revived when
he is in a dissipated state in respect o f his breath.27 κΐκαφηότα

” In oth er con texts this ve rb ζω γ ρ ίω is used for taking live prison ers in
battle (Vi. 46 = x i. 1 3 1 , x . 37 8 ). C o m p arin g ζαηάγρια, w hich denotes a w eregild
or the valu e o f o n e's life ( x v n i. 4 07, viii. 462), it is a safe surm ise that the wind
is g iv in g air to S arp e d o n and thus p reservin g life in him (sec Jo u jn n a (19 8 7),
209 n. 17 ; also R u csch c (19 3 0 ) , 3 7 —4 1 ; and on the link betw een (urypcoi and
(tuiaypia see both F risk and C hantrn inc s .v ., and L J g r E s.v .).
T h e aspiration in this p articiple is difficult but not im possib le: see S illie r
(•9 9 5 ). § 5· 7ί R isch (19 7 4 ) § 1 2 1 ; and n. 27 b elow . N eh rin g (19 4 7 : 1 1 3 - 1 6 )
holds that κτκαφηότα is unconnected w ith ίκ ό π υσ ο ι, p artly because he fin d · it
difficu lt to explain the perfect tense o f the participle. H e translates κνκυ.άηΰτα
as 'e n fe e b le d ', and takes θυμόν in both instances as an accu sative o f respect.
T h u s both S arp e d o n and O d ysseu s w ould be ‘ w eak in respect o f the θυμός’
w hen affected in good and bad w ays respectively. (F o r criticism o f his
argum en t sec H arriso n (19 6 0 ), 69 n. 38). In general term s. N eh rin g 's
arg u m en t is w eakened by the sim ilarity between A n d ro m ach e's experience
and those o f S arp e d o n and O d ysseu s. F rom their fo rm , the tw o w ords beg to
be assign ed to a sin gle ve rb , and both are used in connection w ith sw ooning
and g a sp in g ; given all this, it w ould be a rem arkable coincidence if they w ere
u n conn ected .
27 It is difficu lt to be precise here, because κςκαφηότα is v e ry difficult. In
fu n ction it m u st be su b stan tive, standing in place o f S a rp e d o n ’ s nam e. I f we
take θυμόν as direct object after κ<κα<}>ηότα, w ith the su p p o rtin g evidence o f
ίκόπ υο οςν w e can translate 'th e w in d revived Sarp ed o n b y b low in g on him
w hen in a state o f h avin g exhaled his θυμός'. T h is in terpretation is supported
 The D ying Gasp and the Jo u rn e y to Hades 143

occurs once elsew here in the sam e w ay. O d ysseu s, p a n tin g and
exhausted on the shore o f Seherin, is afraid that e x p o su re to
the frost and dew o f n igh t and the cold d aw n w in d w ill
overcom e him :

μ η μ ’ ό μ υ δ ις ο τ ίβ η r e κ α κ ή κ α ί θ ή λ υ ς l i p o n
Ι ξ ό λ ιγ η π ς λ ίη ς δ α μ ά σ η ι κ ίκ α ψ η ό τ α θ υ μ ό ν ,
α ΰ ρ η δ ' (Κ π ο τ α μ ο ύ ψ υ χ ρ ή i τ ν ίς ι ή ώ θ ι π ρ ό . (ν . 4 ^ 7 ” 9)

If we take κ ΐ κ α φ η ό τ α in the sam e w ay as in S a rp e d o n ’s ease,

O dysseus is sayin g that he m ay be o verco m e b y -the d ew and
frost w hen he is exhausted b y the w eakened state o f h is
breath.
T h e rend ering o f sw oons o/Ters us the first step to w ard s o u r
final un d erstand ing o f ψ υ χ ή . W hen b reath exh aled is ψ υ χ ή and
breath regained is θ υ μ ό ς , the kin sh ip as w ell as the con trast
between the two w ords is revealed . In their sim p lest sen ses
θ υ μ ό ς is breath cither d raw n in or lost, ψ υ χ ή is so le ly b reath
lost and dissipated and d estro yed . It fo llo w s that the tw o
words are liable to be exten d ed m eto n yru ically in d ifferen t
ways, ψ υ χ ή is associated w ith life and co n scio u sn ess o n ly to
the extent that it is a sign o f th eir extin ctio n ; θ υ μ ό ς , on the
other hand, stands not on ly fo r that b ut also fo r life held and
enjoyed, because it is literally w arm — it is the v ita lity that is
sucked into the lungs and su rg es, Oóvei, as it en gen d ers the
vigour o f the body. But w e m ust look fu rth e r b efore w e can
succeed in our eventual aim , to see h o w the flyin g ψ υ χ α ί o f
I’ atroclus and H ector em erge from this pattern o f im a g ery and
translate the ψ υ χ ή lost at death into the ψ υ χ ή w h ich w ill liv e in
Hades. I rcating etym ology w ith due cau tio n , w e can learn
som ething m ore from the H o m eric m ean in gs o f w o rd s c lo sely
cognate w ith ψ υ χ ή .

by H csych iu s, w ho glosses κ,καφ ηοτα as Ικπςττνςυκότα. b u t it raises its o w n

problem s. F irs t, the sam e e xp ire d breath w ill be ca lle d ψυχή an d θυμός in
successive lin es, w h ich is un usual at the very· least. S e c o n d ly (an d m o re
d ecisively). « * α * ,ό τ α ought to be in tra n sitiv e in m e an in g , sin ce that is the
pa e m o f all p erfects o f its typ e (see H a in sw o rth at v . 4 6 8 , w ith S ih le r 's
m X r i ,9 9 5 : § 5 ‘ 7 ) ) ' tr ,hr* ° b jc c ,io n 1,o ld s R ood, the o n ly a lte rn a tiv e is
™ him X n “h a " aCCUSa' r CU rCSPtCt: ' ,h e " ind rc v iv c d S a r p e d o n , b lo w in g
" h c U.aS >n resp ect o f θυμός'— in o th e r w o rd s, w h e n he
vas still d issipated and em ptied o f w h at o u g h t to h ave b een fillin g h is b re ast
 M4 Death itu,I tit? A fterlife

i/"',VV. ψοχράς, φνχω refer to coldness, breath, anil ΙιΙυηί,ιμ

C old n ess, breath, und b low ing nrc tlie com m on ground o f the
smull μ roup o f w o rd s that share the stem T h e sim ple
verb ι/ηϊχ,η appears when A thena dellccts a (lying m issile with a
breath or gust, rrronji . . . -ηκα μήλα ψνζοοιι (xx. 4 30 —.jo); the
ad jective ψινχρός refers to such coldness ns that o f water, metal,
snow , or w ind;*'1 w hile the noun ψύχος, in its one H om eric
attestation, denotes the coldness o f air or wind (x. 55 5 ).Ju T h e
v e rb s ,Ιττοψνχ,ο· and ara^wytu' are m ore difficult, anil repay close
exam ination .
\Ve have already seen that when L aertes collapses and loses
con sciousn ess he is οπο0ό\·οιτπ (xxiv. 348); on the close analogy
o f the noun ψοχη in sw oon s, the action here m ust be that of
gasp in g out breath. T h e sam e verb stands in the m iddle or
p assive for w hat happens to sw eaty men when they rest
exh austed after toil, Ιδρ,ό άη<ψ>νχοιί ο (xt. 6 2 1, χ χ ιι. 2), and
sim ila rly !Sp<h ΛποψνχΟ,,ς (x.\t. 5 6 1). T h e y cool down ‘ in respect
ot the sw eat', in other w ords their tem perature drops as the

' 1 T l w p n 'W c im of dir noun·* nml veil·» in vb'V ere iliiruurd by llcnvoni«r
( i u p > · ; loll.»weil by I'bnixltaiur *.x\). Ilrnx'ettiktr hnlili llml v'-ry... 'blow',
tMliiitlr witli ν'. γι), is .pule iiin'onnr.ird wal» ^.y.« ‘ iim U cold’, und 1b.11 die
nppiticta . ontluem c i* mete homonymy. T bi» irrm> «oilui.il, »nur (.1. I ;n
lo »bow tie·el there i» a.» »h.up dintinx'tina ol tin» knul in I loinei » a».* ot diese
verb*, even it a ί» hiMoinnllv line llml two »iunl.it·»nun.linn minx «1«
m v o b r .l , ».< niniw of om in»l.u».'e» .ombiiu· .ol.lnr»» witli bluxvmu llml we
Citnnol »c|>.ii.ilP »be two 11» die Innunnue η» a«e.I by oni lutdi.u, .0 llml p\. n a
llrntriiim.' 1» rtybl «bout die |urbi»loiy at tbe xxmd», a ι» evident .a »lie t e n
lensi dint die two l.b-tUn'nl »trat» burn led in nil «»»or ill ion nl nie.tnlnu in
1 1, line ι η |>i .nil. e l'i i»l» »» x »by >jl ItnhU llml | l.y ) mul >l\>" me multitio, ..nil
i l i * i 'l i » n pnmllclx in oilier lb’ InitKtlitue· lot die Imi» between blnwina nn.l
eoMne»* linitiiin« (»0S7 sob »Id muur» in lull .IrUit llml bulb intnp.uind
xeib» ..in be ileiive.l Imm die uniion of tin· blow mu of Itrendt 01 wnnl, wall
»be »r.oinliux n»»o, mlioli ot die eobllir·· tesliltinu liom »m b blowinu
lonmuni «igne« duoiiitb un intpuiimit enmpniixon xxilb die Innuunur ol die
I li|>|«n min' ctxiptis, «boxxinu ibol »lie ili»liiiednn between blnwinu nn.l
x.ilxllie«» n. io»» ν'ι·.\*1. χ*ί ,\··'· ^ λ ι ' Ί ι . «nil coumile* 1» n po»l-l Innui.. develop­
ment.
'■* Note e»p die x‘ol .1 wind of du· ilaik hour befotc dnxvn, otfyi) · · · v^'Vi")
<η-··ι !t»s( (»'. 4 <iol.
,u l lpenot, ImvitiK hrtd toxi imicli 10 drink, hoc* up to die pnlnce roof in
sleep bemuse be xxniiis coolness, v’" 'v ,,n f/ui'/mii· (x. 5 5 1 - 5 ) . I'resli nir in
partientur is exidentlx xvluit be is lifter.
 77;/' Hying Onsf) anti the Journey to ! ladet 145
ηwen I ilrit'H o il.11 T in · connection with coolness in cicurent when
,1 hree/.e in responsible:
Γιιί 6' iOfU'i <1ITii/<i>yin*yri yiroa'tiie
oril/rf iron* wronji· παρά fflVMWs. (xi. 6 3 1—2)
T h e y cool clown, «π/ι/οίχοντο, by facing tow ards the cooling
breeze. In these instances o f άποφνχ*α·, the word takes its
meaning either from m aking cool or from blow ing or sim u lta­
neously from both.
T h e evidence o f <ΐΐ'α0ήχ(ΐι> corrob orates this. T h e sim plest
instance is in P ro teu s’ account o f the delights o f K Iysiu m :’ J
il.U'ai/l' Ζ·φνμο\ο Atyè πν/ιοιτοί (11)raf
Ï . V f a v ö f άι·Λ ;σιν arin/ntyi ii' m ’tfp i.iffo K . ( i V. 5 6 7 —8 )

Ocean sends up breezes to brin g coolness to m en: the verb

refers to the cooling effects o f the sen breeze, in m uch the sam e
way as in the passages cited for ϊίποφΐ·χ*αΟαι. T h e link between
the two verbs is closer still when A then a finds D iom ed es
tending his w ound as he rests aw ay from the com bat,
«Ακιι.· <iini/u'\'iii'ni. re) fill·/?ii.\< II,iiiSnpo« ι'ιϋι.
lilfUtiy ytip μ,ι «rtipit' t'rrii πΛιΐΓ/ον r« Anfiièruv
dum,Say conesAm’· ruo rtffi« ro, κορίΊ ( S y«i*fiti,
1Γ1· (S’ Γιιγιπι1 r · An fii.en m A i i i i c φΙ% α Γρ'ιΙπ ορ ά /ινίΊ·, (V , 7 0 5 -8 )

The word ιο ιι^άγιΐιτιι desi i ibes him as cooling o lf the w ound

hv exposing it to the cool uii Som ew hat sim ilar is a ilettn iption
ol w arriors reh esb in g them selves by w ashing in the sea:
aibm Λ iΛpm riuAAAi· il itul'i'b'fu· (laAilniiiii
/ο/Μι·(·ν hi'ij/iiii r« «’Λ«' A1>./·..1■ Λμφ{ ra fiiffiuily,
aibil/i i’ ll*i ιι,/,μ· iiilpii Dn Ailiiuifv iApi.i f>>■ ΛA,l 1·
l11’1/r· e iln,\ ypnoAv mil ,\>·ΙφιιχΟ·>· i/.iAur ijtup,
Λ i t i n i f i i i d u ll y I l i l c / t v I i l ^ i i n i « Λ ι ι ι 'μ ι ι ι Ι ' Μ ι . (x 57 2 (>)

” See Imimtiiii (11)87), ;ofi 8.

” On ilii« I 1'nllnw Imiiiitiiii (1087), *18 10. t ΐ. Νιΐμν (nr/u: 1(174*8.11 *)
lull Used 1 11 1 Η |l|l»lt||C III M l | l | 1 | l | l till · l l l l l l l l l l l l l K l l l l ' l l i v 1 11 III I Iv «i III II mill ll l l'
blo» ol dio West weie )dine» wlieie heroes were lemilniiiteil idlet drndi mid
intssed 10 iinniiiiiiiluv. Nngy’s llieotv (11170: 1(15-8, /08; 1000a: 85-1*1)
depend* 011 die view dint Defat« und ^e.yij me mlriclinnuciihlc tiodi η» hieudi
expired und 11« lireiitli inliuleil (see csp. toooii: 110-2); tills seems to me not 10
lie justified by die I lomerie evidence. On Nngy’s methodology in this csstty nee
nlsti Cl\. i η. i *, Ch. 2 11, 20.
146 Death and the Afterlife
H ere, it seem s, by bathing they w ipe off the sweat and cool
them selves in respect o f their breath, named here as -η τ ο ρ .
T o understand the link between these and the remaining
instance o f άναφύχ(»ν, w e m ust first observ e that there is a close
connection in each o f these passages between sweating and
gasping, two m anifestations o f exhaustion w hich happen not to
be connected in our m odern view o f hum an physiology. The
clearest indication o f the m eaning o f this link is in a passage
where A ja x , hard-pressed in battle, is forced to fall feebly back:
a U l δ ' Δ ρ γ α λ ΐω ι ! χ ( τ ’ ά ο θ μ α τ ι, κάΰ óc ο ί ίύρι'ος
ττάι·τοθ(ν <« μ ( \ ίιυ ν π ο λ ύ ς Ip p ttv , ο ν 8< ττηι rt\ r v
ά μ π ι·* ΰ σ α ι. (XV|. 10 9 -tl)

l ie is unable to draw in the breath which w ould bring vigour,

and sweat runs along his lim bs, ju st as D iom edes was afflicted,
relptro, by sweat in one o f the passages already quoted (v. 795­
8). W e find the same com bination when Hector recovers after
being knocked unconscious by A ja x ’ boulder, as described
above (p. 139). H e is now sitting up, no longer sweating and
no longer gasping:
, . . ijfitvov, ovS* €Ti wefro, ΐ’/οι· h ' ia a y tip iT O Ονμόν,
η μ φ ι t yiyftuO Kwv (τ ά ρ ο ν ς , d ro p άαθμα teal ίό ρώ ς
7ra vfr\ J n t i μ ι ν t y a p t Α ι ό ς ΐ'όος α ίγ ιό χο ιο . (XV. 240 —2 ).

T h is connection is the key to understanding the remaining

attestation o f άναψυχαν. T h e Achacans have fallen back
exhausted to rest by the ships, and Poseidon rouses them:
τ ό φ ρ α δ( τ ο v s οττιθ ίν yan/o^oj <Lpo(v /Αχαιούς,
of παρά 1nyvoi O oip otv diχφνχον Φίλον η τ ο ρ .
reuk p* ά μ α r'dpyaAfan κ α μ ά τ ιο ι φ ίλ α γ ν ΐ α AcAi/i'Tο
κ α ί α φ ιν ά χ ο ς κ α τ ά θ ν μ ό ν t y i y v t r o . fXIIX- 83—

H ere again the action o f ά ι·α φ ύ χ ( ΐι· is connected with physical

exhaustion and trouble in the lim bs. It could be argued that the
w arriors arc regaining their breath as they rest, making
άναφύχω here a virtual synonym o f arairvcw; but when we
note the pairin g o f the im perfects άνίφυχον and cy/yvrro, it
m akes better sense that both should refer to the warriors
exhausted state before Poseidon roused them . T h e ir limbs
w ere loosed and enfeebled, ju st as the w arriors in the other
 The Dying Gasp and the Journey to Hades 147

passages w ere afflicted by sw eat; there w as trouble in their

θ ν μ ό % , and they w ere gasping out their breath, a v u j / υ χ ο ν η τ o p ,
just as in the passages w here H ector gasped out his breath,
φίλον ά ϊ ο ν ήτορ (X V . 2 52, n. 1 8 above), and A ja x w as unable to
draw breath, ov8t π η ι eiyev | άμ·ην(ΰσαι (χνι. 1 ίο —ι 1 )· ^
In these w ays, the ranges o f m eaning o f αττοφυχαν and
σ ν α ψ υ χ α ν corne close to convergence. T o g eth er w ith the sim ­
pler φόχ<υ, φύχος, and φυχρός they each draw on a different
aspect o f the sam e nexus ο ί ideas associating coolness with
blowing or gasping. In view o f this connection, w j can begin to
define φυχη as a gasp o f expired breath that is cold, vaporou s,
and insubstantial. T h is helps to explain w h y the last breath
could be described both as θυμός and as φυχη: the first w ord
refers to the w arm , vital quality o f what has been extin guished
by death, the second refers to the cold evanescent q u ality o f
death and extinction itself. It m akes sense in the sam e w ay that
in swoons the expired breath could be φυχη, cold and lifeless,
but the inhaled breath o f return in g life anti consciousness was
always given the w arm th, vigo u r, and vitality o f θυμός.

φυχη has two senses in two narrative contexts

We are now ready to return to the problem that φυχη com es to
the fore in different w ays in two different en vironm ents, at the
moment o f death in the visib le w orld and in the sh ad o w y
afterlife in H ades. A t the begin nin g o f this chapter w c observed
that there w as a question m ark over the relation sh ip betw een
these two senses o f φυχή, and that it w as not easy to set them
alongside each other and try to m erge them . In p articu lar the
relationship between the φυχη and the m an h im self is quite
different in the two settings w here the w o rd com es to the fore.
T h e φυχή exhaled at death is an em pty gasp o f air, lost and

” It m ight be objected that this in terp retation necessitates takin g άνίφυχον

φίλον ήτοp (χ ιη . 84) as ‘ they gasped ou t their b re a th ' w h ile taking ά ιίψυχΟ ιν
φ ί λ ο ν ή τ α ρ (x. 5 7 5 ) as 'th e y cooled dow n in respect o f th eir b re ath ’ . D e sp ite the

form al sim ilarity betw een the tw o p h rases, the fact that the v e rb is active in
one and passive in the other m akes it p lau sib le that the tw o sh o u ld be d ra w in g
on different aspects o f the sem an tic ran ge o f the v e rb , ju s t ns Λποφΰχ«ιν can
refer in the active to sw oon in g (x x iv . 348) and in the m id d le o r p a ssiv e to
becom ing cool (x i. 6 2 1 , x x i. 5 6 1 , x x i i . 2).
 148 Death and the A fterlife
invisible once it is breathed out, but in H ades the ψιυχή is a
shade or phantom or im age, eïSioXov, o f the man which
resem bles him in appearance but lacks his substance. Im plicitly
there is a gap between the two identities o f ψιυχή on the two
planes o f the w orld. On the basis o f our analysis o f the other
m em bers o f this fam ily o f w ords we can now surm ise that the
essence o f the w o rd 's definition is not what a ψυχή is but how it
acts. T h e ψυχή lost in death is vaporous, cold, and lifeless,
d iam etrically opposed to the w arm and vigorous θυμός (or
άϋτμή) w hich man had inhaled and taken vigo u r from during
his life; and in sim ilar fashion the ψυχή that lives in H ades is
som ethin g em pty o f vigour, flitting w ithout strength or sub­
stance, partaking o f the cold nothingness o f drifting air. The
dead in H ades are like shadow s and dream s, σκιήι eÏKeXov ή και
óvtlpioi (xi. 207); they drift around as shadow s, σκιαι άΐσσουσιν
(x. 495); A n ticleia’s w raith describes how it hovers about like a
d ream , ήντ' óvetρος άποπταμόνη π€πόι~ηται (xi. 222), as it flies
aw ay, ίπτατο (xi. 20 7—8), from O d ysseus’ grasp ;34 likewise
A g am em n o n 's ghost stretches out to em brace him with flitting
m otion, πιτνάς (from πίτνημι, x i. 392; see C h . 6 n. 75); and
P atro clu s' w an d erin g w raith disappears ofT to H ades like a wisp
o f d riftin g sm oke, ήύτΐ καπνός \ ϊυιχΐτο (x x ill. 10 0 —1). T h e dead
are w ithout μόνος, vckvüjv άμεντηνά κάρηνα (χ. 5 2 1 » χ '· 2 9. etc.);
and they lack the v ig o u r o f bodily strength, 01! yap . . . ί τ ’ ήν Γς
€μπ(δος ουδό rt κΐκυς (xi. 393)· It is this lack o f life, strength and
sub stan ce, expressed in their flitting m ovem ent, that gives
them the sam e nam e as is the cold breath o f death.

The image o f the flying ψυχή yokes the two together

In this light the lines that narrate the deaths o f Patroclus and
H ecto r take on a new significance:
ψ υ χ ή S ' I k peOltov π τ α μ ΐν η M ïSö aSt β ιβ ή κ α ,
όν π ό τ μ α ν γ ο ό ιυ α α , λ ιπ ο ΰ α ' ά ν δ ρ ο τή τα κ α ι η β η ν .
( X V I . 8 5 6 - 7 = X X ” · 3 ft 2- 3 )

W hen the two great heroes breathe their last we go m om ent­

a rily beyond the norm al patterns o f H om eric lore. In any other

14 F o r this in terpretation see b elo w , p p . 2 0 2 -5 .

 The D ying Gasp and the Journey to Hades 149
narration o f a death, at this point the θ υ μ ό ς or the ψ υ χ ή would
be lost, expired, and d issipated: but here the cold breath o f
death takes w ing, em ergin g sud d enly in a m ythical shape out o f
the visible realities o f the battlefield, and it flies o ff to becom e
one o f the w raiths that live out the shadow y afterlife in Hades.
In effect the d yin g gasp takes on a new life o f its own when
Hom er yokes together the two senses of the w ord ψ υ χ ή and the
two settings in w hich those senses have their place.
It must be em phasized that this im age is unique in forging
this link so clearly and v iv id ly in the narrative. A cro ss H om er
there are only a few other references to the descent o f the ψ υ χ ή
to Hades, and all arc oblique and allusive, ten din g to appear
cither in high-flow n rhetorical im agery or in passages which
look along the broad course o f the action o f the poem . Perhaps
the closest approach to the directness o f P atro clu s’ and
Hector’s deaths is in the proem o f the Ilia d , w h ere H om er
looks along the story o f the W rath w hich sent m any ψ υ χ α ί to
I lades,
ττοΑΛάς S ’ ΐφΟ ίμου s ψ υχά ς .'Ιίδι ττροΐαψεν
ή ρ ιΰ ιυ ν, ( l. 3 ~ 4 )

and sim ilarly in N e sto r’s elaborate rhetoric when he begins a

speech o f persuasion at a council o f w ar:
ττολλοί y a p τ ίθ ν ά ο ι κ ό ρ η « ο μ ο ω ιτ ( ϊ Ι Ι χ α ιο Ι ,
tcüv νΰν α ιμ α κ ίλ α ιν ό ν iu p p o o v α μ ψ ί Σ κ ά μ α ν δ ρ ο ν
(O K fS a a ’ ο ξ ύ ς s lp -ης, ψ υ χ α ί S'A li'S ó o S t κατήλΟ ον, f v i t . 3 2 8 —3 0 )

When he speaks in the grand style (ύψαίναν ήρχ^το μήτιν,

v u . 324) he articulates an im age o f cosm ological depth which
is akin to the poet’s evocation o f the sw eep o f the action o f the
whole poem. S im ila r in its rhetorical sw eep is the conceit by
which a w arrior boasts that his foe’s death w ill give victory to
him self and a new w raith to the lord o f the dend:
a o i S' l y w ii'OilSt ψ η μ ! φ ό νον κ α ί ni/pti μ ίλ α ιν α ν
ή μ α τ ι r u n S ' ZatoO ai, Ι μ ώ ι S ' ύ π ό Su vp i δ α μ ίν τ α
< υχος Ι μ ο ί S iü a tiv , ψ υ χ ή ν S ' ^ liS i wAuromiiAtm.
(XI. 443- 5; »im. ν. ί>54. xvi. 625)
T h e im age depends for its effect on its extravagance, draw ing
up the specious contrast betw een giving a boast to the victor
iso Death anci the Afterlife
and a new wraith to the ranks of the dead in Hades’ realm.35
The ψυχή of this speech belongs squarely in the mythical Hades
and docs not articulate the separation of the wraith from the
corpse at death.
Still m ore heightened and m ythopocic is the startling image
in one o f Thcoclym enus* prophecies in the Odyssey, where he
sees the wraiths o f the suitors already going down to the
U nderw orld:
( ib iiiX w v S i π λ ί ο ν iτ ρ ό θ υ ρ ο ν , π λ < ίη S i κα ί α υ λ ή ,
U p i v a j v t p t ß o a S f ΰιτο ζά ψ ιο ι·, ή ( λ ιο ζ S i
ο υ ρ α ν ο ύ Ι ξ α π ό λ ιυ λ * , κ α κ ή S ’ ΐτ τ ιδ ίδ ρ ο μ «· άχΑ ιίί. (xx. 3 S 5 - 7 )
H e calls them em pty images, eiSwλα, synonym ous in Hades
w ith ψυχαί. W ith his supcrnaturally heightened vision, the
prophet looks beyond the visible world into the unseen realm
o f the d ead.3* T h e sam e sudden switch is made by the post­
H om eric author o f the Second Nckuia (sec Ch. 6, App. p. 227)
when he launches into his narrative with Herm es leading the
w raiths o f the suitors on their journey to Hades:
Ε ρ μ ή s δ< ψ υ χ ά ς Κ υ λ λ ή ν ιο ς ί ξ ι κ α λ < ΐ τ ο
a vS p ü tv μ ν τ ]σ τ ή ρ ω ν · ίχ < S i ρ ά β δ ο ν μ ί τ ά χ ίρ σ ι
κ α λ ή ν χ ρ υ α ι ί ι ρ ', τ ή ι τ ' ά ν δ ρ υ υ ν ό μ μ α τ α θ ( λ γ € t
ώ ν i O i Ar«, (x x iv . 1- 4 )

T h e scene transfers itself to the mythical plane with violent

abruptness, and the gap between the visible fact o f death and
the new identity o f the Hitting wraiths remains unbridged. T h e
deaths o f Patroclus and H ector are unique precisely because
they bridge that gap in a single inclusive image, collapsing the
m ythical and non-m ythical meanings o f the word into a
com plex new unity.
H om er offers only one other reference to the descent o f the
ψυχή, and it is particularly instructive. T h e night before
O d ysseus’ expedition to Hades, Elpenor gets drunk and falls
o ff a ro of and dies:

3* C f. W ard en ( 1 9 7 1 : 9 7), calling this ψ υ χ ή form ula 'a literary je u d'esprit*.

T h e idea is extended b y P in d ar w ith the im age o f ‘payin g' a ψ υ χ ή to H ades,
ψ υ χ ά ν ϋΓδαι TtXiutv (/jf/r. I. 68 ).
3Λ O n the fan tastic tone o f this vision, see R u sso ad loc., w ith D odds
(■ 951)· 70.
 The Dying Gasp and the Journey to Hades iSi
αλΑα κ α τ α ν η κ ρ ύ rcycoy i r l a t v , itc οι α ν χ η ν
α σ τ ρ α γ ά λ ω ν ί ά γ η , φ νχτ) 5 * sliSoo& f κ α τΐ]λΟ α ·. (Χ· 5 5 9 Go)

This is the only place in straigh tfo rw ard n arrative w h ere it is

said that som eone’s φυχη w ent dow n to H ad es, and the
exception proves the rule: the im age is d eplo yed in o rd er to
prepare for Odysseus' m eeting w ith E lp c n o r’s w raith on the
threshold o f H ades seventy-od d lines la te r.17 Ί he pattern
remains that in the narration o f death H o m er docs not
normally bridge the gap between the w orld in w h ich the m an
dies and the m ythological U n d erw orld in w hich (fo r exam ple)
the narrative pattern o f a katabasis w ould place him after his
death.

The image of flight to Hades emerges from that o f lost breath

In short, in this last group o f passages the outcom e o f death is
the entry o f the w raith, φυχή, into the m ythological land o f
the dead, but it is not closely identified with the last gasp
o f the dying man. In this w ay the im age rem ains vagu e and
the juxtaposition harsh: across the w hole H o m eric corp u s the
transition o f φυχή from the w o rld o f the liv in g to that o f the
dead is realized only in the deaths o f P a tro clu s and H ecto r. I
have suggested that this construct is com p lex, soph isticated,
even creative. T h is needs to be qualified. S in c e the lin es are
repeated exactly in the two deaths, it is lik ely that they are not
an isolated invention, and as such they should not be seen as
anti-traditional; on the other hand this need not m ean that
they are a mere form ulaic fossil. I em phasize this because
ai'SpoTrjra. violates the m etre, and was fo rm erly pointed to as
evidence that the w hole pair o f lines w as a fossil p reserved
from an earlier stage o f the epic lan g u age.38 H o w ever, the
same word άνδροτήτα occurs elsew here (x x iv . 6) w ith the sam e
effect on the scansion, and it is best seen as a d evelo p m en t in
the course o f post-H om eric tran sm ission .39 In v iew o f this,
” F or this reading sec W ard en ( 1 9 7 1 ) . 9 6 -7 .
See Lcum unn ( 195° ) . 2 2 1 . T h e varian t λιπ ο ΰ σ ’ ά&ροτήτα is a lm o st
certainly a sch olarly in vention to re p air the rh y th m ; see L a ta c z (19 6 5 - 66)

was fixed b,C ° riKm ° f ,hC Var,ant lhC PCr‘ 0d bt:i0r' lh e fa m ilia r sp e llin g
M See " p· La,acz Tichy (1981). Along with xxtv. 6 there is a similar
 • 5a I h m It find lite A fterlife
th r ir ι* mi good rcnimn Ιο «ommin· the cm iplei ns divorced
(•on· ihr tiininnlrciim o f lim n e r's iiniigc-niuking. A closer
rxnm innlion will Kiiggeisl immethitig more of how it in huilt
up from Im m hlrr miilerinln.
I lie pivolul \v«ml in nrιιμίι-η. T h e flying φυχη hits often hern
com pared to clnsnicnl Viisc-piiinlingrt in which the soul is
a« tiinlly depicted ns n hird, hut there arc no grounds to
im pose no nhnrp on irruite on the H om eric scene; tile image
on the vnses is at least ns likely to look back to a readme of
I lom er. ' C lo ser to hom e, we have already seen that th<;
m ovem ent o f the φ υ χ ή looks to that o f the mythical wraith in
H ades, whose characteristic m ovem ent is strcngthless airy
flight. In our im age the departing φνχη already takes on the
identity and attributes o f a wraith that will dwell in Hades. But
there is a further clue to show that the image remains rooted in
the w orld o f the battlefield, and that it takes shape from a more
m undane rendering o f the em ission o f breath from the dying
m an. T h e clue can easily go unnoticed, because it is found only
in the deaths o f anim als. A horse is struck in the shoulder and
killed:
ό δ’ ϊβραχ( θυμόν όίσθων,
κ ά δ S ' i n t o ’ l i ' κ ο ν ίη ια ι μ α κ ά » ·, α π ό δ * < τττα το θ υ μ ό ς . ( X V I . 4 ^ 8 —9 )

A s he groan s out his breath he falls in the dust with a cry, and
his θυμός goes flying aw ay. T h e sam e words «Ino S 'ima.ro θυμός
also appear when O dysseus kills a stag (x. 16 3) and a boar
(xix. 454), and when a dove is transfixed b y an arrow its breath
flies aw ay in the snmc w ay, Juris S' μίΜων θυμός nτάτο
(ΧΧΙΙΙ. 88ο). N o convincing explanation has hitherto heen
offered for these strange images o f anim als’ deaths,41 but in
m etrical p ro b lem w ith an o d icr com pound o f άι·5ρ-, in «he form ulaic line
A/ijpiónjr T* ατάΛαι*τοί '/TrcaAiuji αΐ'δραφόιτηί (it. 5 1. etc.), w here the trans­
m itted text can be sennned on ly w ith an extre m e ly harsh synizesis. T h e
e vid e n ce , then, is that the syllab ic [ o f *a n (t- w as still a reality in H om eric
scan sio n (see also R u ijg h ( 1 9 7 1 ) . 8 6 1 - 3 . W est (tg S S ), 15 6 - 7 , and Jan ko
(10 9 2 ) I 1).
40 S e c C h . 1 , p. 6.
41 It has been argued that in these passages H om er has adapted a form ula
design ed for a hum an death, using θυμός in place o f Φνχι) because anim ats do
not h ave souls (W arden ( 1 9 7 1 ) . 95 n. t ; C lau s ( 19 S 1) , 62. w ith n. 8). T h is is
w eak fo r several reasons. F ir s t, H om er is elsew here quite happy to narrate the
 77fr /)yi>w Cai/i and the Journey to Unite i 153
die* m o r e rln lm ru tc pannage i b e wtirtln ïfipnye anti μ ονώ ν Muggent
ii «im p le a m w e r i llie d y i n g iiiiim nl* sire b e l l o w i n g o r (in th e caiic
ni i lie d o v e ) «r|iinwkitig m o r e v i o l e n t l y tliari m e n w o u ld d o , *0
iluii the 0i>(uSs is g a s p e d o u t w ith m o r e f o r c e than in the cane o f a
n o rm a l h u m a n d e a th , a n d on that a c c o u n t it it d e s c r ib e d a«
(lying. In t h e ir em ail w a y , th e s e p a s sa g e « s u g g e s t that th e v iv id
e la b o r a tio n o f the lo ss o f ψυχή e m e r g e s f r o m the idea that the
h ero y ie ld s u p h is last b r e a t h w i t h a m i g h t y c r y . T h i s s u g g e s ­
tion is c o r r o b o r a t e d b y H o m e r ’ s d e s c r ip t io n o f th e w a r r i o r w h o
g ro a n s o u t h is last b r e a th lik e a b e l l o w i n g b u l l , ήρα τον y '
ίρυγόντα λ in' όστία Ουμης άγήνιορ (Χ Χ . 4 ° 3 ~ h ) / 2 I f th e flight o f
the ψυχή ta kes ofΓ in th is w a y f r o m the v io l e n c e o f th e h e r o ’ s last
c r y , then it is very’ f ir m l y g r o u n d e d in the i m a g e r y a n d e v e n the
v o c a b u la r y o f th e g a s p i n g o u t o f b re a th .
A s im il a r s tra in o f i m a g e r y s e e m s to b e a t w o r k in the
fa m ilia r id ea o f w i n g e d w o r d s , as in th e lin e καί μιν φαινήοας
tnea ητΐρόΐντα ηροσηύ&α (i. 2 0 1 , Μ. 7 · etc .). P r e s u m a b l y th is is
to b e u n d e r s t o o d s t r a i g h t f o r w a r d l y in t e r m s o f th e f lig h t o f a
b ird o r o f an a r r o w : 0 th e s u g g e s t i o n is that w o r d s w h ic h

death o f a p ie os rov 5‘ ΐλητι ψυχή (x iv . 426), ju s t like a hum an death. (Rnlin

( i9 5 3 : -M9) uses ’ life ’ as a gloss to exp lain ψυχή in the p ig ’s death, but this is
m erely a stopgap.) S e c o n d ly, even if H o m er com poses b y fitting form ulae
together like a poor jo in er, w hich 1 am u n w illin g to b elieve, still it docs not
make sense that he should have had to tailor η ψυχή form ula to suit the
narration o f an an im al’s death, because there w ould already have been plenty
o f form ulae availab le w here the u n p rob lem atic w ord θυμός w as used in the first
place. T h ir d ly , even if this w ere done it w ould be su rp risin g if the form ula
thus adapted w ere ’ ψυχή πτάτο, w h ich is unattested am ong the hundreds o f
deaths in the two epics.
4 C om pare the w ords used w hen a m an ’s ja w is sm ashed open b y a spear,
so that the θυμός is released w ith sp ecial speed and violence: τόι> βά λ' υπό
γναθμαΐη κ α ί οϋατος, w n a S i θυμός | ίϋ ιχ ς τ' από μ ιλ ιώ ν , ατυγιρός δ’ αρα μ ίν ακότας
ιίλιν (XIII, 6 7 ΐ-2 = χνι. 606-7).
41 A rrow s are perhaps m ore lik ely, since the ndjcctivc is elsew here used o f
them (iv. 1 1 7 , V. 1 7 1 , X V I . 7 7 3 , x x . 68) but not o f b irds, and in real life the
function o f the feathers on an arrow is to gu id e it straight to the turget (sec csp.
T h o m so n (19 3 6 ); L atacz (19 6 8 ), 2 7 - 3 1 ; S . W est at i. 12 2 ; but cf. V ivante
( * 975). w ho p refers b irds). S in ce this is in som e sense the function o f feathers
on a bird as w ell as on an a rro w , there is perhaps no w atertight answ er; the
point is the poetic m eaning, not the definition o f the len iu m comparationis. It
docs not seem usefu l to claim that errra π τιρόιντα is an em pty form ulaic fossil,
as M . P arry argued ( 19 7 1 ( 19 3 7 ] ) . T h e m ore im portant question is w hether all
talk, or only talk o f a certain kind, is described hy this adjective. Sin ce P arry's
154 Death and the Afterlife
c o m m u n ic a t e s u c c e s s f u l ly arc i n t o irre p o c v ra , f e a th e r e d and
th us fly in g s tra ig h t to the m a r k : th e y w ill b e c o n tra sted
im p lic it l y w i t h th ose that arc v a in a n d e m p t y a n d fit to be
fo rg o tte n , w h ic h a re lost in the w i n d :

(ττος S ’ f ' Trip τι β ςβ α κ τα ι

5<ιιόι*, άφαρ το φ ίρ ο ιιν m-apn-iifamn arAAni. (vili. 408—9)

S i m i l a r l y in e ffec tu a l talk is lik e a p u f f o f w i n d , arcpw\ia (iv. 3 5 5 ;

tv, 8 3 7 = xi. 4 6 4 ) / * a n d a p p a r e n t l y a w o r d w h ic h is ineffectual
a n d fails to c o m m u n ic a t e is w i n g l e s s , in-repos μύθος.** J u s t as

lim e, several studies have argued that only certain types o f utterance are
irrr/rarrra. but there is no agreem ent as to the necessary characteristic.
C alhoun ( 19 3 5 ) tries to pin the form ula to expressions o f extrem e emotion;
V ivan te O 9 75: S) em phasizes not the speaker’s em otions but the spontaneity
o f the utterance itself, ’ unsolicited by the necessities o f dialogu e'; Latacz
(19 6 8 : 3 1 ) argues that the key is the loudness o f the speaker’s voice. In
practice, o f course, these three aspects o f effective com m unication m ay all be
in volved. M ost recently, S . W est suggests that the adjective refers not to any
one species o f utterance but to the 'essential characteristic’ o f talk: 'A n y w ord,
once uttered, is irrtpóu·' (at i. 12 2 ). C om pare D urante (19 6 8 a), 24s—7 . A final
decision is im possible without a firm view on the m eaning o f atm pot μΰϋοτ,
but un fortunately it is im possible to tell whether a w ingless w ord is an
unspoken one or an unheeded one (see n. 45 below).
4-1 T h e adjective άν»μώΑιι»ί is used in the same w ay o f a bow w hich has
proved useless (v. 2 16 , xxt. 474), and o f deities who fail to protect their
favourites (xx. 12 3 ).
15 M erc it is im possible to be precise. T h e w ingless w ord appears only in
the form ula τή ι δ'άπτςρος I t Arm μύθος (xvii. 57 = x ix. 29 = xxi. 3S6 = x x ii. 398I,
w hich occurs in each attestation after the end o f a com m anding speech
addressed by a m an to a w om an. In each case the subsequent events indicate
that she obeyed the com m and. T h e questions are (a) w hether the o- is
p rivative (< *n -) or intensive (< * s ip - ) ; (6) whether the μύθος in question is
the speech w hich has ju st ended, or alternatively a further speech w hich the
w om an docs not utter. O f the four possible m eanings, tw o make sense, cither
'H is svords w ere w inged (i.e. effective) for her (since she obeyed)’ , or 'a
w in gless (unspoken) w ord cam e to her (but she rem ained silent)'. Latacz
(19 68 ) argues acutely fo r the latter. H ow ever, άπτ«ρ«ωι occurs in the M csiodic
corpus in a rather different context: T y n d are u s asks H elen 's suitors to swear
to com e to her future h u sb an d 's aid if she is ravished, and they com ply, rol δ*
ciirrcpicj! i -πΐθοντο (fr. 204. 84 M —\V). I f iirrtp iu is here approxim ates to
'sw iftly ' or 'w illin g ly ' (sec also Parm enides, fr. 288. 17 K R S ) , this suggests
that the q- is intensive. S ee csp. R usso at xv ii. 57. W ithout com m itting
ourselves here, w e can at least quote άτττςρος . . . μύθος, regardless o f its
sense, as a fu rth er indication that in to nrtpótvra is not an isolated fossil but a
 The Dying Gasp and the Jo u rn ey to Hades 155

winded w ords arc those that do not van ish into the nir, so the
ψυχή w hich is flying, ττταμίνη, is im agined as go in g d ire c tly to
Hades to becom e a w raith, in contrast w ith the usual im age b y
which the ψυχή is lost and dissipated w hen the d y in g m an s last
breath vanishes into the air.
T o fly as a bird, then, is to go straight to o n e’ s goal. T h e
flight o f the ψυχή is a leap from the w orld o f m ortals to that o f
Hades, to a different plane o f the universe. A s such the idea o f
the winged ψυχή finds a fu rth er parallel in the b ird -im a g e ry
that Horner deploys when gods m ove b etw eerj th eir o w n ,
higher w orld and that o f m o rta ls/6 It is revealin g that th is is
sometimes articulated as m etam orphosis, som etim es o n ly as
simile, som etim es as som ething indeterm inate b etw een the
two. F o r exam ple, we seem to be given on ly a sim ile w h en
Hera and Athena go dow n to battle w ith the gait or fligh t o f
doves, at δί βά-την τρήρωοι ττίλίίάσιν ΐΟμαΟ’ δμοΐαι (V. J j 8). A t the
opposite extrem e, when A p o llo and A th en a van ish from the
battlefield and sit at the top o f a tree in the sem b lan ce o f
vultures, 5pvισιν I oikotcs αίγυττιοΐσι (v u . 59), the scene w o u ld be
grotesque if they' have not actually changed into the sh ap es o f

living im age with reg exe s elsew h ere in the H o m e ric re p e rto ire : so that it is
reasonable to take πτ<ρό<ντα as a ctiv e ly h ig h lig h tin g the fact th at the w o rd s in
question travel from speaker to listen er, ju s t as those w h o listen s e rio u s ly to
something are said to receive o r accept it, & ίχώ μ(θα μύθον (x x . 2 7 1 ) . T h is is all
that w e need establish to ju s tify co m p arin g w in g e d w o rd s w ith the fly in g ψυχή.
(For fu rther b ib lio grap h y see S . W est an d R u s s o , locc. c il.). T h a t S o p h o c le s
understood άπτ<ρος as 'w in g less· is su g g e ste d w h en h is E le c tra sa y s that if sh e
ceased her lam entation she w ould b e 'h o ld in g b ack th e w in g s o f h e r R ro a n s',
‘ ° X° V° a, !ΤΤ' / Ϊ >"1 ί yo'on. (E 7. 2 4 2 - 3 ) : b u t co m p are iir r t p o , φάn s in
Aeschylus (A K. 276), w h ich w orks b etter in the o p p o site w a v (c f. F ra c n k e l
ad loc.).

c o n e c t o i mCiCr ( ! 9 6 7 )· * T Cn (,9 7 8 > · an d ErbSC Cach fu ll

L e h o the b r ^ am P · K Ci· B.USh,,Cl1 ( ,9 8 2 ) · D ir >m cicr m ain tain s that
each o f the b .rd -.m ag e s can be read as a sim ile rath er than a m e ta m o rp h o sis
tvh.lc B an n e n and E rb se show that tins fo rce s the e v id e n ce N o te a b o the
curious passage ,n w h ich Poseidon d .sa p p e a rs like an , W · · lNotc als°
: nd ^ “ V ··» . η. .... « J 5 S T b 7 ,“ . ( w « , · ’

w j l i i i a ί« Γ T ™ menu' ily · · . Η««

indicate a m etam o rp h o sis’ as S W e s, 1 ί sccmd e fin ite ly to
15 Death and the A fterlife
the birds.·*7 M ore com m on is a vagu er association between
m oving deity and bird, as when A p o llo descends from Ida to
the battlefield:
pi) at war* 'JSaiajv optotv, Ιρηκι Ιοικίΐιζ
uiKtC φαααοφόνωι, ος τ ' ώκιστος rrtrtijvtΰν. (XV. 2 3 7 ~ 8)

T ltc god flies like a bird when he m oves from one plane o f the
w o rld to another, ju st as the φυχή takes w ing when it descends
to H ad es. T h e variation in shape and clarity between different
version s o f the im age show s that the connection between
b irdlike flight and m ovem ent from one w orld to another is a
sym b o l that can be brought to birth under different form s at
different tim es. T h e flight o f the φυχή belongs at some
undeterm ined place on that sliding scale.
In this w ay, when the φυχή flics to Hades H om er builds up a
u n iq u e ly com plex articulation o f what it means to breathe one’s
last, but the image takes its shape from the m aterials available
in the sim p ler form s o f H om eric language. I hope that the
eviden ce has been enough to show that this picture should not
p rescrib e our interpretation o f what is happening each and
e v e ry tim e a d yin g man breathes out his φυχή. T h e loss o f the
last breath is a visible phenom enon, a tangible sign o f death and
not o f itself an eschatological transform ation. T h e man who
gasps out that last breath is the m an we sketched in C hapter 4,
the in d ivisib le bodily un ity for whom the tangible stuff of
b lo o d , bones, and organs is the sole source o f his human
identity. I f the flight o f the φυχή is a creative image rather
than a fixed schem atic b elief, how’ are we to understand the
process b y w hich H om eric m an dies and enters the U n d er­
w o rld ? T h is is the question to which we w ill now turn.

■*’ F o r oth er exam ples see esp. x tv . 2 8 6 - 9 1; x x ii. 2 3 9 -4 0 .

 6
T h e C o rp se and the A fte rlife

The corpse has last vitality bat still holds the dead man’s
identity j
T h e prospect o f an afterlife poses the problem o f hum an
identity anew. W hen darkness has fallen on a m an’s sight,
how does he continue to exist? W hat has happened to his
identity, to his ‘ Γ , and how does that T tran sfer itself to the
undiscovered cou n try beyond death? W e have seen m uch
evidence that in the m ortal w orld H o m eric m an is an undivided
unity for whom the loss o f the last breath is m erely one o f the
visible signals o f death; and I have argued that the im age o f the
flight o f the ψ υ χ ή to H ad es1 is rare and esoteric and em erges
only in special circum stances from the ab id in g sense o f hum an
unity. W ith this in m ind w e turn to the corpse. In a sense a
corpse is m ere clay, κωφή yam ; b u t on ly v ag u ely and rarely is it
so identified.23 M y argum ent suggests that after losing the last
1 In this discussion I use the w o rd ‘ H a d e s' both fo r the personal god and
the place. In taler G ree k both these sen ses are com m on , but in H o m e r slt&qs
alm ost alw ays refers to the p erso n , along w ith the varian t .MiSau-iér (v. 19 0,
XX. h i) . T h e re is an excep tion in a speech o f A c h ille s, eft 5 xtv αύτας fyuii· vliSi
«•ilDuifiai (x x in . 244 ). T h e gen itiv e in p h rases like «ft HtSao, 'to [the house] o f
I lad es’ , is odd but not un paralleled in o u r au th or: co m p are d io f IvSav (xx. 13 )
for 'in side the h ouse o f Z e u s ', eft /Kyiiirroio, fSinrcrfor irora/ioib (iv. 5 8 1) for
'into the river . . .', und f t narpós (ii. 19 5 ) fo r 'to the fath e r’ s h o u se '. N ilsson
(19 6 7 : 4 55), h o ld s that H udes w as o rig in ally the place, w ith its lord luter
personified; on th is arg u m en t, P ersep h o n e w ou ld have begun ns the sole
U n d erw orld d e ity , n th eo ry that m ight exp lain w h y she is m ore to the fore
than H ades h im se lf in the N ck u ia (sec x. 4 9 4, 50 9 , x i. 2 1 3 , 2 1 7 , 2 26 , 38 6, 635).
It has been arg u ed that tw o separate w o rd s are in vo lv e d , one o rigin ally
standing for the plucc and the o th er fo r the person (sec T h ie m e (19 6 8 ),
13 7 - 8 ) .
3 When Achilles is mistreating the dead Hector, Apollo describes him ns
dishonouring dumb earth, κ α ιφ η ν . . . yafai· ά «κ /{η fir r r a iW (xxiv. 54). Unless
this means thut Achilles' savagery is scandalizing Gaia herself, it must refer to
the corpse as 'earth'. T h e line is curious, since elsewhere in Apollo's speech
1 58 Death and the Afterlife
breath H om eric m an w ill still be him self, that his 'I ' will cling
to his body and be one with it. In fact this is im plied even when
the flight o f the ψυχή is pictured: in the proem o f the Iliad the
ψυχαί leave behind the heroes them selves, αΰτοιίϊ (i. 4), and
likewise Patroclus' or H ector’ s ψυχή abandons not a lump of
flesh but the substance o f his manhood, άι&ροτήτα
( X V i. 857 = XXII. 362).
H ow ever, the com pelling evidence on this point is in the way
H om er talks o f the thing that m odern En glish calls a dead body.
A s wc w ill sec, it is im plied overw helm ingly often that the dead
m an’s identity is still tied to his physical substance. 'Phis is
borne out on the sim plest level by the word t-eVus/riKpos,3
H om er’s usual label for a dead m an. T h is word differs crucially
from m odern w ords like ’corpse’ , because it goes with the
nom inative rather than the genitive o f the noun denoting the
person w ho has died: a νεκύς/ν(κρός is not the corpse of someone,
rather it is unam biguously identified with him. (In the length of
the H om eric poem s there is a single exception to this rule,
w hich w ill be discussed in its place— pp. 16 2 —3 below). Those
who lie on the battlefield are not m en’s mortal remains but ’men
who have died ’ , νίκρούς κατατ€θυηώτας.* Consistently νίκυς/
vtxpós stands in apposition with the proper nam e:1

and throughout the episode the em phasis is on the fact that the corpse is
H ector h im self, nnd os such desert ing o f hum an respect (on these points sec
M nclcod’ s penetrating note ad loc., w ith parallels in later literature). T h e only
H o m eric parallel is in a speech w here M enelaus rails ogainst the ether
A chacans for refu sin g to face H ector in a duel: he w ishes that they will
becom e earth and w ater as they sit liiere, άλλ' Cpeis μ(\· narres c3u>o wa» να·α
ycVoiode (vit. 99). H o w ever, it seem s that this passage refers not to death but to
the idea o f people being transform ed into inanim ate objects after a mi*dced.
com pare the N io b c sto ry, Λαούς hi λίθους ποίrjat Kporiuia (χ χιν. 6 i 1), with other
n o n -H o m eric testim ony noted by R ich ard son ad loc.; also the transform ation
into stone o f a snake (11. 3 19 ) and the Phaeacian ship (xiii. 16 3).
1 r w u ; and vtxpós are fu lly syn on ym ou s, presum ably interchanged m tfri
g r a t ia : sec e.R. iv . 492—3, x v ti. 7 3 4 - 5 . w here the two arc used in successive
lines o f the sam e dead m an. In addition rtn at is attested once, iv tnVijiou·
v t x a h t o o iv (v. 886), perhaps collective: ‘ am ong the heaps o f dead m en' (thus
K ir k ad loc.). S ee also n. 32 below .
* S o m e nm biguous cases: the genitive in XVII. 3 6 2 , vtxpoi όμού Τρώων χαι
xnrtputriiuv <maovpiui·, is n atu rally to be read as corpses from am ong the
T ro ja n s ’ (cf. x v iit. 540, m ore clearly thus); the genitive in x v u . 240, veiotos . . .
Πατρόκλοίο, is in apposition w ith his nam e (see E d w ard s ad loc.).
[S e e o p p o site p a g e J o t n . 5 ]
 The Corpse and the A fterlife 159
x t t r a i π ά ρ vr/taoi ι·(κ υ ς ΰ κ λ ιιυ τ ο ς (ΙΟατττος
Π ά τ ρ ο κ λ ο ς . . . (XXII. 3 8 6 - 7 )

P a t r o c lu s is the νίκυς. S im ila rly Elpenor:

δ 7) τδτ ’ (y ü ii' ΐτ ά ρ ο υ ς TTpo it 1v i s γ ιό μ α τα Κ ίρ κ η ς

olaiprvai \’(κρ οι· Έλιτ-ηνορα τ(θυτ)ώ τη. (xii. Q—l o )

T h e gods care for H ector although he is now a νίκυς, a dead

man:
ΰις toi K p io v ra t μ ά κ α ρ τς Ocoi νιος irjos
κ α ! ν ίκ υ ό ς nep Ι ό ιτ α ς . (XXIV. 4 2 2 —3 ; sirrf? XXIV. 3 5 )

In its sim ple w ay this suggests that after death the man
continues to be precisely equated with the stu ff o f his body:
the processes o f thought and consciousness have ceased to
happen, but the thing we call a man can still be seen and
touched.
O bviously, how ever, that is not the full story. ν4κυς/ν€κρός in
apposition is not sim p ly analogous to a noun like ήρως, diöy
υιός, άνήρ, since it often replaces a proper nam e already given :
K fircu Π ά τ ρ ο κ λ ο ς , ι ί κ υ ο ς it St) ά μ φ ιμ ά χ ο ν τ α ι
γυμνού. (XVIII. 20—l )

A kus here is more than an equivalent fo r Πάτροκλος: rather it

qualifies, alm ost glosses, the blunt statem ent in the first two
words: Patroclus lies dead, the living w arriors fight over a
naked corpse. C om pare a b rie f narration o f O enom aus’ death:
6 S ’ «V κ ο ν ίη ια ι T r e a t i n ' t,\{ γ α ΐα ν α γ ο ο τ ώ».
Ιόομ €ΐ·τΰς δ ’ <κ μ ( ν ν ΐκ υ ο ς ό ο λ ιγ ά α κ ιο ν ίγ χ ο ς
Ι ο π ά ο α τ ’. (X III. 5 θ 8 - ι ο ; sim . χ ν ι. 3 1 9 - 2 1 )

If this is m ore than an accidental efTect o f form ulaic com po si­

tion, the shift from proper name to ‘co rp se’ perhaps suggests
that on dying the man passes into a new state o f altered or
dim inished identity. H ow ever, in the course o f long passages in
which a particular corpse is prom inent— for exam ple, during
t ic struggle over the dead Patroclus— the proper name and
*ικυς/ν<κρος are freely interchanged from line to line, and there

w hich? , ‘ 95)r C! a“ " ‘ h is a w o rd , \ < kvs as a d je ctiv e ',

ife as „ . ƒ , ' Tc ü, SU X ° f · ' " * * im p lies that that w ord began its
life as an adjective (S ih le r (19 9 5 ), § 56 9 . 2).
 16o Death ami the Afterlife
is no decisive distinction between the man and the body. T h is
im plies that the visible corpse and the bearer o f the proper
name arc identical, and it encourages us to seek m ore elaborate
evidence that in a fundam ental sense the T o f the dead man
resides with the corpse.

To die is to waste away enfeebled

A further pointer in this direction com es with the verbs φΟί(ν)αι,
φΟιννΟω, and com pounds, which can often be translated ‘ die’
but also refer to certain other kinds o f loss and disappearance.
W hen som ething φΟινύΟα or φΟΰται it is reduced or enfeebled,
wasted aw ay rather than destroyed outright:'* so that these
verbs can refer to the gradual dim inution o f the stock o f a
household (i. 250 = xvi. 12 7 , xiv. 95) or provisions as they arc
consum ed (iv. 3 6 3, xii. 329). T h e verbs arc especially appro­
priate to the gradual enfccblcm cnt o f a living person: for
exam ple as Laertes grieves unceasingly and starves him self
the flesh w astes aw ay from his bones:
oi! ττί/i μ ίι·
φ α α ιν φαγίμ € ν κ α ι τ η ΐ μ ίν α ίτ ια ς ,
oüS’ t jr i €pya i&rfv. άλΛά οτονα χτ/t t t γ ό ιυ ι -re
•ησται oStiρ ΰ μ ΐν η ς , φΟ ινίΌ α ü 'ά μ φ ’ ό σ τ ιό φ ι y p u iï. ( x v i. 1 4 3 —5)

S im ila rly a bereaved w om an’s cheeks are ravaged by grieving,

τής S ’ ΐλαινοτάτωι άχ€Ϊ φθιννβοναι rraptiai (viii. 530). T h is decay
can be psychological: when A chilles sulks he dwindles aw ay in
his m ental substance, φΟινύΟισκΐ φίλον κήρ (ι. 4 9 1) or φρίνας
ίφθΐ€\· (χ ν ιιι. 446); the T ro ja n s’ long-toiling allies waste away,
θνμον άττοφΟινύθουοι (xvt. 540); and when O dysseus lingers with
C irce his m en’s fretting affects him in the same way, pei>
φΟινύθουσι φίλον κήρ | . . . oSvpópevoi (x. 485—6). W hen the
sam e verbs are applied to death the im plication is that the one
w ho dies, φθίίται, is w orn down or dim inished in stature,
alm ost like the w axin g and w aning o f the moon, μηνών
φΟινόντων (x. 470; sim . xiv. i6 2 = xix. 307, xix. I5 3 = xxiv. 143;
cf. xi. 1 83 = x iii. 3 38 = xvi, 3 9 )/ and b y the sam e token he has
not d ecisively ceased to exist or to be him self.
6 S e e C h a m ra in e ’ s su b tle gloss, s.v .
’ T h e San sk rit cognate kfi- is also applied to the w an in g o f the m oon
(L c u m a n n (19 5 0 ), 2 1 2 n. 4, cited b y C han train c s .v .; also S ih le r (19 9 5)
 The Cor fise and the Afterlife lOt
A m ong the living, the Ion« of vit;ility through m isery or
exhaustion is som etim es specified as tlie dim inution o f αΙών, the
oozing bodily fluid w hich em bodies lively vigo u r (»ec C h . 4,
pp. 1 1 3 - 1 4 ) . W hen O dysseus weeps this essence seeps out of
him, Knrrißrrn γλυκύς rildiv (v. 15 2 ), and H erm es urges him to
take courage lest it should w aste aw ay, μη8ί rot α Ι ώ ν \ <plhvr.ru>
(v. 16 0 -t). In the same w ay when Penelope pines for her
husband she hopes that her vitality and beauty w ill not ebb
away,
iva p r jx t r * ό ό υ ρ ο μ ίν η trara θ υ μ ό ν ^
αΐά,να φΟ ινύθιυ. (xviii. 2 0 3 - 4 '. c f· θ υ μ ό ν \ τ ή κ ί , xix. 263-4)
T his is very sim ilar to one w ay that H om er refers to the m ore
decisive loss o f α ι ώ ν that is death, ίτ τ ή ν ο ή τ ο v y e λίτττμ φ υ χ ή r e και
α ιώ ν (χνι. 4 5 3 ; sim . v. 685). W hen A n drom ach e sees H ector
dead, she interprets the change that has com e o ver him as the
destruction o f this vital essence: a v e p , α π ' α ΐ ώ ν ο ς ν έ ο ς w \ e o
(xxiv. 725; sim . X X II. 58); and when A ch illes fears that the
unburied Patroclus will su ffer d ecay and corrup tion , he says
that it has been destroyed, eV 8' α ι ώ ν π έ φ α τ α ι (x ix . 27, perfect
from Ociviu·, see C h . 4 n. 13 0 ). W hat has been lost is an essence
of life that is m oist, flow ing, glistenin g: so that con versely when
the gods protect the dead H ector from corruption he looks
dew y-fresh, re p u r / e is (x x iv . 4 19 , 7 5 7 ).R W hen A ch illes uses the
verb τ τ ίφ α τ α ι, the perfect form suggests that this loss o f α ι ώ ν is
progressive, continuing after death w ith the decay and putre­
faction o f the corpse. T h e close verb al correspondences suggest
that wastage d urin g life is akin to w astage after death, im plying
again that death is seen as loss o f lively vigo u r rather than as
annihilation.

When is the corpse distinguished from the dead man?

If we have been right up to now , the sense that the dead m an is
the corpse m ust m arch alongside the sense that he has departed
§ 2 3 5 . ic ; and see R . S c h m itt (19 6 7 ), p . 1Λ 2 η . 9 7 1g ), so it is a fair gu ess that
such dim in u tion is fu n d am en tal to the m eaning carried b y the root.
" O n the relation betw een dew , tears, and other b o d ily fluid s in early G ree k
thought see m y ‘ R a in , D e w and the L ilie d V oice o f the G ra ssh o p p e r'
(forthcom ing).
I 62 Death and the Afterlife
to the nfterlifc. T h e am biguity is ncutly sum med up when
Achilles em braces the dead Patroclus:
rotat S i 11η\< ΐδης ΰ δα ο ΰ Ι ζ ή ρ χ ί yóoio,
χ (ϊρ α ς i n ' αι£ροφόν·ους θίμΐνος αη)(*<ααιν ir a t p o v
"ygfpt* μοι. ω Π ά τ ρ ο κ λ ί, κ α ι tlv HtSao S o p o ia u ·“ . (ΧΧΙΙΙ. 17-19)
In one sense A chilles’ friend lies stretched before him ; in
another sense he is already in Hades. W hen the man can no
longer be seen in fleshly form , as after burial or decomposition,
the unity between him and his body can no longer be sustained,
and the dead man continues as him self only if his identity is
pinned on the survivo r in the mythical Hades. So it is that
when Achilles has reduced Patroclus to bone and ash and holds
the remains in his arm s, he no longer addresses the man
him self but calls on the ghost which visited him in his sleep:
oii'ov ά φ υ ο σ ά μ η ο ς χ α μ ά δ ις χ ί ΐ , S<üt S i γα ϊα ι·,
φ α χην Kin\i]aKU)V Π ατροκΧ·ηος δ α λ ο ίο .
ιυς S i n a r ijp ον η α ιδ ό ί o S vp tra i ο α τ ία Katun·,
νυμ φ ίο υ, ός τ« θανω ν δ α λ oils άκάχηα< τ ο κ ή α ί,
ώ ϊ ΑΙχιλίύ^ (τά ρ ο ιο oSiptTO ο α τ ία xa iw v. (XXI11. 2 2 0 - 4 )

T h e mortal remains arc no longer recognizable as a man, so

they have ceased to be regarded as one: the ‘ Γ of the dead man
is now firm ly assigned to the mythical Underworld (see also
xxiv. 63—79, discussed below, pp. 226-7). In this context we
can make sense of the one passage which contradicts our rule
about the identity o f the νίκνς/νΐκρός with the self. Achilles is
allowing the dead Hector to rot, and the gods quarrel over the
scandal:
iv v ijp a p St) HiKOf it’ άΟανιίτοισι»· opuipev
"ΕκΎορας α μ φ ί fitfu l και ίΑ χιλλΐμ πτοΧ ιηόρθοη. (XXIV. I 0 7 —8)

I f the line is not corrupt,9 it is significant that the expression

‘ the corpse of I lecto r’ appears in the context o f Achilles' savage
m altreatm ent o f it. Since Hector is straightforw ardly identified
w ith the corpse throughout the rest o f the same episode (e.g. at
X X IV . 76, 1 1 5 , 1 16, 1 1 8 , 136 , 1 5 1 , 180), we need not make much
’ T h e line could e asily be em ended to harm onize will» die usual pattern:
"Etcropi τ ' άμφί vix ut καί H χίλλήι ητολίπόρθιυι. It seem s w iser, h ow ever, to
suppose that the w ord m ay have shifted tow ards the pattern regularly
follow ed b y οιΰμα.
 The Corpse and the A fterlife 1 ^3
of this one exception to our rule about the construction w ith
νίκυς/νικρός\ but it is a reasonable guess that the poet com es
closer to distinguishing the dead man from the corpse because
the context brings the prospect o f its decom position to the fore.
T h is suggestion brings us to σώμα, the other (and m uch
rarer) word translated as 'co rp se’ . 10 σώμα d iffers from νίκυς/
νικρός in that it always puts the nam e o f the person in the
genitive, im plying a different perspective— the σώμα o f so m e­
one is not quite the sam e thing as the m an h im self. M o st
instances are in contexts where the corpse has been, or is liable
to be, abandoned or m istreated. Ju st as the w ords Έκτορος άμφί
ν ί κ υ ι were used when the body was rotting, so corpses afloat at

sea arc σώματα φωτών (xii. 67-8); the m utilated carcasses w h ich
Achilles burns with Patroclus are δρατά σώματα (x x ill. 169);
and in lion sim iles the carcass devoured by the beast is a σώμα
(in. 23, .w in . 1 6 1). Fin ally, H ecto r uses the w ord b efore his
duel with A ja x and when he is on his knees before A ch illes,
asking that his corpse be handed over to his fam ily for b urial:
σ ώ μ α 8( ο ΐκ α δ ' ΐ μ ό ν δ ό μ ιν α ι ττάΑικ, όφ ρα π υ ρ ά ς μ ι
Τ ρ ώ ις u n i fpójutv άΛοχοι λ ιλ ά χ ιυ σ ι Ο ανοντα.
( ν π . 7 8 - 9 = X X II. 3 4 2 _ 3 )

Note that in the next clause o f the sentence H ector uses μ ι to

refer to him self after death. W e saw that im m ed iately after
death a man is som etim es referred to as νίκυς/νικράς in a w ay
that suggests n loss or dim inution o f his id en tity. T h e passage
just quoted closely resem bles one such instance, again in the
context o f H ector’s plea that he be return ed to his people after
death:

ά λ λ ’ ί π ι'ι άρ κ ι ο ι ουλ ήσ α ι «Aurei τ ι ν χ ι ' , Α χ ιΑ Α ίΰ ,

Ά χ α ιο ϊσ ιν δώ σ ω πάλα-· ώ ς δ ι ου ρ ί ζ α ν , (χ χ π . 2 5 8 -9 )

Strictly speaking, ν ι κ ρ ό ν is to be taken in apposition with or yet

it seems that here ν ι κ ρ ό s, like σ ώ μ α in the previous instance, is
not quite so comfortably identified with the person in question.
The plot thickens when we find that the remaining instances
of σω,χα occur in narratives set inside Hades. Odysseus meets
,u O n the question o f w h ether a
σώμα ca n also be a liv in g b o d y see C h . 4,
pp. 1 1 6 - 1 7 ; E p ilo g u e , pp. 3 1 5 - 1 9 .
 1 (>4 Death ami the A fterlife
the shade o f E lp en o r and rem em bers that the corpse had been
lelt in C irc e ’s palace w ithout being given n funeral:
ot> yap TT<0 «τ ίΰ α π το ι'*ηό χΟοχος txipvoSt (ικ ·
σ ώ μ α γ η ρ *ν Κ ιρ κ τJ ï fu yriptui K nrciW rrojifl' ί] μ ιϊς
άκΑαιτοΓ καί ά 0<χτττοι· . . . (χϊ, 5 2 —4)

S im ila rly in the Secon d N ckuin (whether or not it is Hom eric__

see A p p en d ix below ) the shade o f A m phim cdon explains that
his and the other su ito rs’ corpses are lying untended and
u n b u ried :
V.u ^xX i Α γ α μ τ μ ν ο ν , ατταβλόμ<0\ ώ ν «τι κ α ί ννν
UOJμ α τ α χτ;5«α κ«Γτοι « η μ «yapoiy Ό δ υ σ ή ο Γ
οι> y a p ττιν ΐα α ο ι φ ίλ ο ι κ α τ α δ ώ μ α θ ’ ίκ ό σ τ α ν ,
ο ι κ α τ ο ιιφ α ν τ ΐς μ ίλ α ιχ ι β ρ ό το ν Ι ζ ώ τ ίιλ ίια τ
κ α τ θ ϊ μ η α ι γ ο ά ο ιτ ν . (xxiν. 186— 90)
In both cases the situation is extraordinary, because we are
fo rced to visu alize the corpse lyin g in the m ortal w orld at the
sam e rim e as the su rv iv o r in the m ythical afterlife. The
ju xtap o sitio n prom pts a contrast between the two senses in
w hich the dead m an exists, so that the corpse is referred to
under a nam e w hich im plies that this lum p o f clay is something
other than the m an him self.
C o m b in in g the evidence from ιτκνς/ΐΐκρός w ith that from
σ ώ μ α , w e conclude that the corpse rem ains fu lly identified with
the dead m an except in certain exam ples o f two extraordinary
situations: first, w here it is in danger o f decom position or is
b eing dishonoured and treated as dead m eat; and second, when
the shade o f a dead m an in the U nd erw orld enters the scene in
a w ay that prom pts a contrast between him and the corpse that
rem ain s in the w o rld o f m ortals. T h e lesson is that the dead
m an is h im se lf in two senses, w hich belong on different planes
o f the u n iverse and on different levels o f language. T h e situ­
ations w here the w ord σ ώ μ α appears are those in which the
b o d ily m anifestation o f the m an exists but proves inadequate
on its ow n, either because it has ceased to resem ble him or
b ecause it is d irectly ju xtaposed w ith the speaking and m oving
su rv iv o r in the U n d erw orld . C learly those situations are
exceptional and untypical: in the norm al course o f narrative
and allusion nothing happens to bring the two versions o f the
dead man face to face w ith one another.
 The Corpse and the Afterlife

Mutilation o f the corpse is mutilation of the man

T h is evidence from verbal scraps needs to be corroborated on
the larger scale o f ideas and beliefs. It is telling that m utilation
after death is seen as som ething inflicted on the man him self
rather than on what we m ight call his remains. W itness the way
Priam ju xtaposes his fear o f death itself with his fear o f what
will happen afterw ards:

avrrnv 5 ' q>* T V )in ro y r f W f Trpuirrjiat θ ν ρ τ μ α ιν

ύ μ -η σ τ α ί i p v o l t a O', i i r c i k * t i j ό ξ ί ί χ α λ κ ιϊιι
τν*1 »ας i)e' ßa.\tUr p A tia ir tie Ονμάν h i j r o t . (X X II. 6 6 —8)

T h e dogs w ill rend the man him self, and by m utilating him
they w ill dishonour or abase him , aioyvruioi (X X II. 75): Priam
does not distinguish h im self from the dead flesh that w ill be
ruined, and its sufferin g is his ow n. Presum ably the corpse
would not be thought to actually feel pain after death, but its
equation with the dead man adds im m ediacy and intensity to
the fear that it w ill be to rm en ted ." T h e sam e principle inform s
Z eus’ care for the physical preservation o f the dead Sarpedon
(XVI. 666-83), an<3 A p o llo 's fo r H ector:

ro fo b’ .’3—o ,V A a>r
r r c c a v ä fu e firjv 6—(χ< χ ρ ο ΐ ic ie r ’ iStaiateir
•ca! rtft-ró ra —t o . ( x x i v . 1 8 —2 0 )

Hector is the corpse, and A p o llo ’s personal bond with him

continues although he is dead. T h is helps to explain w hy there
is no sign in H om er o f the fear o f pollution from touching the
dead, as is com m on in later G reek b elief:12 because personal
and social identity persist in the corpse, it is not a strange
uncanny thing as it m ight be in a culture for which the essence
o f the man has fled from the b ody and left som ething taboo or
unwholesom e behind it.
11 A rg u e d b y W ilnm ow itz ( 1 0 3 1 ) . 30 4 -6 . C o m p are also the later G reek
references to the practice o f cu ttin g o ff the h an d s, feet, and other extrem ities
o f a corpäe in o rd e r (ap p aren tly) to prevent the dead m an from returning to
exact vengeance (see G a rv ic at A esch. C/10. 4 3 g , with fu rther refs.).
,J P arker (19 8 3 ), 6 6 -7 0 ; and cf. G a rla n d (19 8 5 ), 3 8 -4 7 .
166 Death ami the Afterlife

Hades is beyond the darkness of death

H ow, then, ore w c to analyse the process by which the first
m anifestation o f the ‘ Γ is replaced by the other— the process, in
other w ords, in which the corpse becom es translated into an
inhabitant o f Hades? L ater sources often answer that question
in terms o f the personal figure o f Death or another guiding {•J
divinity. In E uripid es’ Alcestis, for exam ple, T hanatos in
person escorts the dead down to H ad es,1'1 and in the Second
Nekuia H erm es plays the sam e role as guide o f the suitors’
ghosts (xxiv. 1 —14). But in all his allusions to death Hom er
never gives this role to T h an a to s1'* or Herm es: the only
suggestion in this direction is a single passage w here Odysseus
in a lying story says that the death-divinities called Kcres
brought his father to Hades,
ά λ λ ' r) to i το ν κήρ<ς ιβ α ν θ α ιά το ιο φ ίρ ο υ σ α ι
<4f Λ ίδ α ο δό μ ο υς, ( x iv . 2 0 7 —8 ; c f. II. 3 0 2 , 8 3 4 = ΧΙ. 332 )

Elsew here, how ever, the assault by the unseen divinities of

death is an end in itself,15 culm inating in the descent of
darkness on the sight (see C h. 7 below), and Hom er says
nothing o f its link with what com es after. It is easy to sec
w hy this is so. T h e experience o f death from the sufferer’s
point o f view is distinct from the descent to H ades because the
two events belong in distinct and irreconcilable paths of
thought. O ne's capture by Thanatos or another death-bringing
divinity is the end o f the life that was spent in the mortal world,
but the descent to H ades is a transition out of that environm ent
and into a m ythical w orld beyon d.16 D arkness— ζόφος, ovAér,
11 S e e esp. E u r. A te . 2 3 - 7 , 4 7 , 2 5 9 -7 2 . P ossib ly this role is already re lie v e d
in the layout o f H e sio d 's H ades, w here D eath 's house is deep tr, T artaru s
( Theog. 7 5 8 -9 ), but H om er suggests nothing in this direction.
14 O bserve that w hen A p o llo hands the dead Sarpedon over to T hanatos
and his b rother S le e p , they b ring him not to H ades but to L y cia fo r h:s
funeral: irtfint Sc μιι* πομιτοίσir άμα κραιττνοίοι $fptoOai, | Ytrvujt »eat θανάτωι
διδυμάοσιι·, οΓ μα /111 ι!)κα | κάτθίοαν A ,1υ*ιηί fl'ftit'rji ffi'ori δςμιοί fXVl. 6 8 1 —j) .
15 W hen one is overcom e by «9p in death and sub sequ en tly goes to H ades,
κηρί δα μ ίίς AiSóaSt β ιβ ή κ ΐΐ (iii. 4 10 = v i. 1 1 ) , the two happenin gs rem ain
distinct: com pare (c.g.) OS τάχα ΠηΧιΐωι-ι δαμβΐς /ItSooSc tcartioi (xx, 294).
Ift C f. W ilum ow itz ( 1 9 3 1 ) , 3 1 3 - 1 6 . T h ie m e (19 5 2 : 13 4 ) points out that
H ades is the Rod o f the dead but not o f the event o f death itself: he is not
‘ T o d e sg o tt’ but ‘ T oten gott".
 The Corpse arid the A flerlije 1 ^7
σ κ ό τ ο ς , ν ύ ξ — is the only thing com m on to both sides o f the
divide: the mist that falls on the sight in death is a negation, like
night itself, ν ύ κ τ α . , . ύρψναίηv (ix. 1 4 3 , e tc .).17 an d likew ise
Hades is shrouded in darkness, ζ ό φ ο ς or ΐ ρ ι β ο ς , from w h ich its
landscape dim ly em erges (see e.g. X V . i g i , X X I. 56, X X U l. 5 1 ,
with xi. 57 , 1 5 5 , XX. 3 S 0) . 18 B u t any im age o f the un d isco vered
country m ust take shape despite that m urk and not because o f
it, so that there is no point o f contact betw een these two areas o f
lore. T o descend to H ades is to pass through the no m an’s land
of darkness into an im agined landscape b eyo n jj it, ju s t as
O dysseus m ust pass through the darkness o f the C im m e ria n s’
country19 before he can reach the entrance to the land o f the
dead:

n ορφι-ηΐος is a puzzlin g w ord . In H o m e r it o ccu rs o n ly in the fo rm u la νύκτα

S i ' όρφναΐην (x. 83 = x . 38 6 , X. 2 7 6 , ix. 14 3 ), w h e re the a d je c tiv e se em s to refer
to darkness: note esp ecially the seq u en ce n r dror ijyr/iovctic | νύκτα ο ι'ο ρ φ νatrjv,
ον Si προύφαΐΐ'ίτ' l&ioOai (ix. 14 3 - 4 ) , w h ere the last three w o rd s look a s i f they
explain ύρφναίην. T h e noun όρφντ) as 'n ig h t' is not fo u n d b e fo re T h e o g n is
(10 7 7 , etc.). It is hard not to su sp e ct that th ere is som e co n n ectio n w ith the
w ords ορφανή (xx. 68) and ορφανικός (v i. 4 3 2 , x i. 3 9 4 . XXIII. 4 9 0), re fe rr in g to
orphaned children . Doth C h an train e and F ris k (s.v .) d en y that th e w o rd s arc
cognate, but die sim ilarity in sense and in fo rm is strik in g : w e m ig h t g u e ss that
night is όρφναΐτ) because it is the tim e w h en the w o rld is b ere ft o f lig h t.
Ί . M eissn er points out to m e that d ie altern ation b etw een fo rm s in ορφν- an d
ορφαν- can be explain ed e asily in term s o f the S ie v e r s - E g c r t o n law ( S ih le r
(19 9 5). § 17 S -8 0 ).
H ere it w ould be in terestin g to kn ow w h e th e r Ά ΐδης is in o rig in ‘ th e one
who is not seen or the lo rd o f th ose w h o arc not s e e n ', d -p riv a tiv e w ith the
root V<5-. 'se e '. T h is is v ig o ro u sly arg u e d b y B ee k e s (19 9 8 ); b u t th e o n ly
H om eric corrob oration is the p assag e in w h ich A th e n a m akes h e rs e lf in v isib le
to A rcs b y w earing the cap o f 1 la d e s. JlfSor k .W ,, ( v . 8 4 5; c f. th e sam e cop w o rn
by Perseu s in the H esio d ic S h ie ld o f H era c les, 2 2 6 - 7 ) . T h is m y ste rio u s m o tif
would be easier to u n d erstan d if JliS o r κ υ νίη w e re tran slated 'th e cap o f not
being seen’ (cf. K ir k ad loc.). H o w e v e r, th is m u st re m ain sp e c u la tiv e (cf.
R . Sch m itt ( 19 6 7 ) . 5 0 - 1 ) ; and w e can n ot b e ce rta in c id ie r that th is is the
original m eaning o f the w o rd A i S ^ o r that H o m e r u n d e rstan d s it in su ch a
way. S e e also L fg r E s .v .. su gge stin g · ύ ν ,δ- am o n g se v e ra l p o ssib le e ty m o l­
ogies, all speculative; an d c f. W ack crn ag el ( 1 9 5 3 : 7 6 5 - 9 ) . a rg u in g in stead that
ΑΙοης is cognate with α,α. as ‘ the place u n d e r th e e a rth ’ .
with h.n, . ? ,m m r r i o da.,k ,? " s. scc H e u b c ck ( .9 6 3 ) . an d K a r l ( 19 6 7 ). 9 5 - 1 0 6 .
Ϊ ” J“ o f '■ ! " - P P .™ ,!,' ,v o ,d i
1 68 Death and the A fterlife
T) [s c . ixiüf] Ι ς TTcfpaO* Γκαι·< βιιΟ νρρόον 'Qxeax oto.
<vOa St /Ci/i/icpuuV άνδριον δ ή μ ο ς re rróAis τ« ,
7?*P* και ΐ'<:«/»<Αηι κ τ κ π Α υ μ μ ό ο ι, οΰδ^ ττοτ* αυτούς
n tA io y ({>niOco\‘ κ α τ α δ (ρ κ € τ α ι ά κ τ ΐν ιο ο ιν ,
ο ΰ θ ' ο ττό τ'α υ σ τ€ίχγ)ίθΐ ττρδς ουραί οι· ά σ τ ^ ρ ο ο τ α ,
ονΟ* δτ* άν άφ I n i yafai* άπ* ούρ α νόθ(ν προτράττηταχ,
dAA* I n i ν ν $ οΑοη τ / τ α τ α ι δ α λ ο ίσ ι β ρ ο τ ο ΐο χ ν. ( χ ί. 1 3 “ 19 )

T o travel to H ades is to pass through people shrouded in dark

m ist, w ith night stretched across them. W hen the dead man is
to take up his new role in the new w orld beyond the grave, he
m ust m ake the sam e leap into the darkness, across the ζόφος of
death and into the cρ ι β ο ς o f H ades.20

Allusion to the descent to Hades in rhetorical and synoptic style

I f w c decline to read everyth in g in terms o f the flying φυχαί of
Patroclus and H ector, it is noticeable that the journ ey to
Hndes is referred to m uch m ore in allusion than in narrative.
It is usually in speeches that w e hear o f it: H om er’s people
speak o f H ades w hen they look to death as a prospect in the
future or a m em ory o f the past, as an clem ent in the scheme of
things rather than an easily apprehended event. T h e image
appears in the heightened language o f threats and vaunts
( V . 654 = x i. 445 = X V I . 6 25, V. 646, v i. 4S7, X I I I . 4 15 ,
X I V . 4 5 7 ; ix. 524), o f lam entation ( X X t t . 3S9, 4S2), and of
fear or foreboding o f death (xx. 204, 336 , x x n . 5 2, 425V,
w hen a character w ishes death on another (in . 322, vi. 2S4)*
*** Startin g fro m different p rem isses in a discussion o f sym b o lic oppositions
in gen eral, A u stin (10 7 5 : o o - to S , esp. 97—S (sec also H cu b cck at s i. 1 4 - 1 9 , and
cf. T h a lm a n n (19 S 4 I. 1 —i f ) analyses the darkness o f H ades in term s o f the
d arkn ess w h ich H o m er im agines as h in g at the edges o f the w o rld : {<i£os is in
som e sense associated w ith the svest, as being the region w here the sun sets
(see e sp . x u . 2 3 9 —40; ix. 2 5 —6, x . 19 0 , x ii. S t , xiii. 1 4 0 - 1 ) . S im ila rly ζόφος and
ζ ί φ ν ρ ο ; e m b o d y grades o f the sam e root (see L f g r E s .v . ζϊφ υ ρ ο ς ) . It m ay be
im p ortan t that the sun goes dow n to ζόφο* w hen it sets, thus id en tifyin g its
d o w n w ard jo u rn e y as parallel w ith that o f the dead to H ades: note especially
H e lio s' threat to leave the u pper w orld and shine am ong the dead, ίνο ο μ α ι «is
èt "i<xo «rat ft- tnri/toai ^anVaj (xii. 3S 3). On the w hole, how ever, it seem s that the
link betw een darkness and the w est is m ore im portant for the sym bo lic
g eo grap h y o f O d ysseu s' jo u rn e y via C im m eria than for the sym bo lism o f
death in general.
 The Corpse and the A fterlife i 6q

or desires to die h im self out o f sham e or m isery (vn . 1 3 1 ,

XXIV. 246); w here one recalls a death in the past (vi. 422,
vn. 3 3 ° ; xiv. 20 7 -8 ) or aslts w hether a third party has already
died (xv, 350, iv. 834 = xx. 208 = xxiv. 264); also, indeed,
where one rem em bers the earlier prospect o f a death which
did not com e to pass (v. ig o , x v . 2 5 1 —2), or denies that he will
him self die (vi. 487; x. 17 4 —5). In speech-language the jo u rn ey
to the land o f the dead em erges in contexts w here the literal
and m undane is insufficient and language becom es rhetorical,
pathetic, or synoptic.
In this light the handful o f instances in the poet’s own voice
are a telling group. T h re e com e in passages w hich do not
narrate specific events but evoke a broad sw eep o f the action o f
war, painting a wide canvas o f the action past or to com e rather
than detailing a single killing. T h u s in the proem o f the Iliad
I lom er explains that A ch illes’ anger sent heroes’ ψυχαι to
Mades,

μυρΓ Α χ α ιο ϊς aAyc’ cäijrcf,

ποΑΛιΙί δ ’ ΙφθΙμονς φ ν χ ά ς ,-Ιίδι νμαΐαφη
fjpióuiv . . . ( 1 . 2 —4 )

Λ briefer allusion in a sim ilar context com es at the opening o f

Agam em non’s nristein. Z eu s lets b loody rain fall because he is
about to send m any to their deaths,

OVV€k ' </«ΛΛ<

τταΛΛιίϊ ΐφ Ο ίμ ο υ ς κ(φ<ιλ<ι<; 'U & i 77ρ ο 'ί ά φ α ι 1 ( χ ι. 54 ~ S)

Here again, death is seen as descent to H ad es when the poet

looks along the sw eep o f future action, so that the deeper
pathos ot w ar com es to the fore. T h e third instance em erges
equally subtly front the poet’ s com m entary on the pathos o f
death in battle. \\ hen L ycao n is about to be m own down by
Achilles, H om er pauses to recall that after only tw elve days o f
liberty he is lacing the sam e foe as in a previous encounter, this
time with the certainty that he w ill be denied m ercy and killed:

Ο 'δ ικ α 5 η μ α τ α Θι/μοχ €τ<ρτ?€ 7 θ οΓσι φ ίλ ο ιο ιν

* féXOdtv <« Λ ή μ ν ο ι ο , OvojBfχ ά τ η ι δ< μ ι ν α ντιί
χ*ρα'ιν /ΙχιλΛήοϊ Öcö? ΐ μ β α λ ( ν , ό ς μ ιν
■ π ιμ φ ίι ν ( ι ς /1Γόαο κ α ι ο ύ κ Ι Ο ίλ ο ν τ α v t t a d a i. ( χ χ ΐ . 4 5 —8 )
170 Death ami the Afterlife
T h ese exam ples o f the prospect of descent to H ades have their ' *
counterpart in a few instances w here death is already a fait
accompli. T h u s when Agam em non slays the sons o f A n ten o r,’ ' "
the narration concludes w ith a m ythical tlourish:

T h e lines round off the episode and sum up its tragedy: they set
the killings against the background o f the full sweep o f the
broth ers’ short lives, w orking in the same w ay as the rem inis­
cence which H om er draw s in a little earlier in the episode to
point up

Elsew here tlie narrative ot two brothers' deaths is rounded oil

in the same w ay, setting the tragedy o f their jo u rn ey to Hades
against the background o f their home and ancestry:

A ll this suggests that the image o f the descent to Hades marks

out the full solem nity o f death. It is perhaps for the same
reason that it is the usual image when H om er or one o f his
characters alludes to a death in the distant past: άλλ’ ό μίν τ,8η
KTjpl δα/ieij clibóoSe βίβήκα (iii. 4 io = vi. 1 ι; sim . xiv. 207—3). In
all these exam ples the im age expresses som ething that is more
than literal or tangible: it does not sim ply state that the man
died but draw s out the deeper meaning o f m ortality, sub specie
aeternitatis.

Mutilation by birds and beasts is alluded to in the same tvay as

Hades
In this light the image o f descent makes for a good analogy with
a different area o f im age-m aking, the theme o f the m utilation of
the corpse by dogs and vultu res.21 In the straight narrative this
[S ir opposite page fo r 11. 31]
 The Corpse and the A fterlife 171

never actually h ap p en s,22 but it is alluded to in the som e k in d s

of contexts as is the jo u rn e y to M ades.23 T h e clo sest H o m e r
comes to n arrating a m utilation is w hen A c h illes th reaten s to
let the dead H ector be defiled b y the dogs (x x m . 18 2 —3), but
the gods go on to ensure that he does not do so (x x m . 1 8 5 - 7 ,
XXIV. 406—15 ). T h ro u g h o u t the Ilia d the im age is com m on
when a future prospect is alluded to in the p o et’s vo ice
(XVII. 12 5 - 7 , 2 7 2 -3 ) or in a speech ( V I I I . 3 7 9 -8 0 , X I . 8 1 7 - 1 8 ,
X III. 2 3 3 , X V I I . 15 3 , 2 4 1, 558, X V I I I . 28 3, X X I I . 4 2 - 3 , 8 8 -9 , 3 3 9 );
sim ilarly w hen a w arrio r boasts o f the woe he causes to his
victims (xi. 394—5), and w hen one threatens to let an oth er be
mangled after he has slain him ( l l . 3 9 2 - 3 , x i. 4 5 3 - 4 , X I I I . 83 1 —2,
XV. 3 5 1 , X V I. 836, X X I I . 3 3 5 - 6 , 3 4 8 -5 4 ). T h e fear o f it ap p ears in
lamentations fo r a loved one (x x n . 5 0 8 -9 , x x iv . 2 1 1 - 1 2 ) o r in
anticipation o f the sp eak er’s ow n death (x x n . 66—7 , 7 4 —6).
When the im age is found in H o m er’s vo ice, it is in con texts
sim ilar to those w hich w e o b served fo r H ad es. W itn ess again
the proem o f the Iliad, w here A c h ille s’ W rath sent m an y φυχαί
to Hades and left the dead heroes to be seized b y the b easts,
αϋτοΰί Sr r A c i p i a τ<ύχ( xvvtaaiv
o h u v a ia i r t π ά σ ι. (I. 4 —5 )

It is in the o verview o f the action that this allu siv e im a g e­

making reaches its h eigh t,24 as in a rhetorical flourish w h en the
advent o f the vultures points up the trag ed y o f a series o f deaths
inflicted by A gam em non in his aristeia:
ά ρ ' ΰ π ' Λ τ p f^ S η ι Ά γ α μ ίμ ν ο ν ι π ϊπ τ ΐ κ ά ρ η ν α
ττολΑοι S ' i p i a ü \ t v t s ί π π ο ι
Τ ρ ό ,ια ν φ ί ΐ τ γ ό ν τ α ι ν ,
κ < ιν ο χ ί α κροταΑιζον αι·α π τ ο λ ί μ ο ι ο ye φ ό ρ α ς ,
η ν ιό χ ο υ ς π ο Ο ίο ιπ ις ά μ ύ μ ο ν α ς , ο ΐ S ’ ί π ι γ α ί η ι
«ηατο, γ ό π ( ο ο ι ν π ο λ ύ Ο λ τ ΐ ρ ο ι ή qAóyomtv. (X I. 1 5 8 - 6 2 ) “
" T h e most complete study o f the theme is Segal (« 9 7 1) : for m y argum ent
here. Cf esp. his pp. 9 - 1 7 . Pagharo (19 5 6 ) makes m any perceptive observations
about the mutilation motif in the proem o f the I l i a d (scc nn. 2 3 , 24 below).

nn",hN H, e Kh0rVCV" · t h V H ° mCr ° nCe dcscrib« die ftsh of the seo as nibbling
te"lÏÓw cÏse iv a. r n ' ^ W° lCr (X* ‘ · 2 0 3 - 4 ) . I« is difficult to
«Ildylng here ' " naße “ asSociated vvilh the s > « e m which we are

” (« 9 S 6 ). 3 « -* ; followed by Redfield (19 7 9 ) . « 0 ..

voice R ΓΟ ( , ° S6: 33>’ ° " th,S ima8C 08 hcroic rhetoric in the poet's

[Sre p. /72 / o r n. 25)

172 Death and the A fterlife
T h is closely resem bles the w ay that the im age o f descent to
H ades rounded oiT the narration o f the deaths o f the sons of
A n ten o r (xi. 262—3, P· 1 7 ° above). It is a fair guess that the
m utilation o f the dead is too gruesom e and d isturbin g to break
the calm su rface o f the H om eric narrative, and that for this
reason it can be threatened m ore freely than it can be effected.2,1
P e rh ap s it is in som e analogous w ay that the descent to Hades
is so rem ote, so strange, or so terrifyin g that it can be alluded to
m ore easily than it can be n arrated .27 Sin ce the descent removes
the dead m an from the m ortal plane and gives him his new
identity in H ad es, it raises two problem s. It ju xtap o ses the
su b lu n ary w orld w ith the m ythological U n d erw orld , prom pt­
ing the question o f the exact relationship between the two; and
it effects the transition from one version o f hum an identity to
another, from the m ortal man o f flesh and bone to the mythical
su rv iv o r in the w orld beyon d. T h is transition is fraught with
both poetic and conceptual difficulties.

The descent o f ψυχή emerges from the descent of κιψαλή

T h e transition to H ades can he expressed along two paths of
exp ressio n . O n the sim p ler path the dead man breathes his last
and dies and b y the sam e token goes to H ades; on the more
com plex path the ψυχή escapes to m ake the descent. T h e latter,
I have argu ed , is a special articulation w hich em erges in
heightened n arrative contexts, w hile elsew here H om er clings
to the prin ciple that m an lives and dies as an undivided bodily
w hole. T h e deaths o f Patroclus and I lector arc unique in using
the m yth o f the flying ψυχι) in straight narrative to effect the*
** C f. x i . 3 9 s . the sam e com b in ation o f im ages in a speech.
>» in (he O dyssey, N e sto r recalls that A e gisth u s w as th row n to the dogs and
v u ltu re s (iii. 2 S 9 - h i) . It is revealin g that in this, a v e ry rare in stan ce o f a
ch aracter sa v in g u n am b igu o u sly that a dead m an w as treated in this w a y . the
victim is g u ilty o f the m ost sBvage and inhum an o f crim es: ‘ N e sto r s h yp o­
th esis is a m easu re o f the en o rm ity o f A e g isth u s offence (S . \\ est ad loc ).
P ro c lu s ’ su m m a ry o f the L ittle I lia d records that M en clau s m utilated the dead
P a ris in the sam e sp irit (see D a v ie s (19 8 9 ). 6 5 -6 ).
J7 I le re it cou ld be ob jected that w e are d ealin g not w ith a H o m e ric concept
b u t w ith the H o m e ric aesthetic; but the aesthetic itse lf is crucial to the
articu latio n o f the con cept, and if w e separate the tw o w e w ill lose sigh t o f
the logic o f H o m e r's w o rld -v ie w .
 The Corpse and the A fterlife 173
transition to the w orld past the darkness o f death: there the gap
is bridged not by allud ing to Mades in high rhetorical language
but by narrating a higher kind o f event, w here the hero’s dying
breath sprouts w ings and the form s o f m ythical im agination are
separated o ff for a m om ent into the shapes o f a m ythical view o f
the world. T h e m o tif objectifies the transition from one plane
o f the un iverse to the other, and so it expresses the jo u rn ey
after death in term s o f com plex cosm ology— in other w ords, it
provides a single im age to pin dow n the relationship between
the man w ho dies and the m an, or rem nant o f a mjin, w ho will
eke out a shadow y existence in H ades. W e have seen that the
man who loses that last breath is an ind ivisib le b odily unity;
and with a further line o f questionin g w e w ill see how closely
the idea o f the descending φυχη is rooted in the conception that
that unity is w hat m akes the jo u rn e y to H ades.
We noted that alongside the flyin g φυχη o f Patroclus and
Hector there stood a few other passages w hich alluded to the
descent o f the φυχι; in a less d irect w ay. T h e first is in the
proem o f the Iliad, w here the plan o f the w hole W rath is
sketched. T h e w arriors them selves die but their φυχαί go down
to Hades:
[sc. μήνις] ττοΧΧάς S’ ιφθίμους φυχάς Αίδι ττροΐαφίν
•ηput atv, α υ τ ο ύ ς δ ί ίΧ ιυρια Τ€ύχ€ κ ύ ν€ θ θ ΐν
ο ΐω ν ο ίο ΐ τ ί π ά σ ι, Α ιο ς δ ' C T tX a 'ero βουΧ ή . . . ( ΐ. 3—5)

Ju st as H om er deploys the im age when he looks along the

whole sweep o f the Iliad, so N esto r re-creates it m ore briefly
when he review s the action o f a d a y ’s fighting:
■ noXXot y a p TtO väai κ ό ρ η κ ο μ ό ιυ ν τ (ς Α χ α ιο ί,
τ ω ν ννν α ιμ a κ ίλ α ιν ό ν ió p p o o v ά μ φ ί Σ κ ά μ α ν δ ρ ο ν
Ι α κ ίδ α α ' ο ξ ύ ς Α ρ η ς , φ υ\·α ϊ δ ’ Α ΐδ ό σ δ ( κατήΧΟ ον. ( v i I. 3 2 8 —3 0 )

T h e φυχαί have departed from the dead men and left behind
their bodily substance, identified in one instance as the men
them selves, αυτούς, and represented in the other by their spilt
blood. A parallel passage w ill show how closely this pair o f
im ages are built on the conception that the bodily man makes
the descent. W hen A g am em n o n ’s aristeia is beginning and
H om er looks along the com ing action he tells us that Z eu s is
about to send m any valiant m en to H ades:
 *

174 Death and the AJtcrlifc

lv S i Ki’Soi/toi’
u/pat κ α κ ό ν Κ ρ ο ν β η ί , κ α τά 5 ’ ν φ ό θ ς ν ηκςν i i p a u t '
α ΐμ α τ ι μ υ δ α Λ ία ϊ c f α ΐ θ ΐ ρ ο ί , o v v tK ' ί μ ί λ λ ΐ
ποΑΛηχ ίφ Ο ίμ ο ν ς κ » φ α λ α ς Αΐΐδι π ρ ο ΐά ^ κ ιι1. (Χ Ι. 5 =~ 5 )

T h e last line is identical w ith the one we have seen in the

proem , with the all-im portant difTcrencc that κιφαλαί rather
than φυχαί make the descent.3* κ(φαλή with the genitive is a
com m on m etonym y for the whole o f a m an, som etim es hot not
alw ays connoting the essence o f his life or his m ortality.29
W hatever ancient beliefs about the head m ay lie in the back­
ground,·’0 it is clear that the κ ΐ φ α λ α ί o f this passage are the dead
J" C o m p are also (he H esiodic C atalogue, fr. 10 4 . 1 1 8 M - W , π]οΛΛάι AliSip
κςφαλάς άυό χαλκοί· ίάφ[<ι}\·. A lth ou gh the im m ediate context is fragm entary
and the recon stru ction o f the fu ture in finitive Ιάι/m r is not certain, from the
con text it seem s that the line refers to Z e u s' plans for the T ro jn n W ar; so that
the im age o f xc^aAaf descen din g to H ades appears in a context closely sim ilar
to that o f XI. 5 2 - 5 . C f. also v. 19 0 , v i. 487.
Je A m o n g the con notation s o f κιφ αλή three b road aspects can be distin­
gu ished: (a) S o m e tim e s it is co-ordin ated svith other nam es w hich are
exp ressed w ithou t p erip h rasis, so that the sp ecifyin g o f κ·φαλή perhaps docs
no m ore than to add solem n ity. A d d ressin g Z eu s, H era sw ears b y E arth , Sky,
S ty x , and Z e u s h im se lf, orj 0' Upη κίφ αλή (xv. 36 —9); T h e o clym cn u s beseeches
T e le m a c h u s in the nam es o f sacred thin gs and o f his ow n se lf and his
com panions, vrttp θυΐοαν και δαίμοι·ος, airrap ιτιιιτα | σήι τ ' ηΰτοΰ κιφαλης και
iralp w v (χ ν . 2 6 1 —2); T e le m ach u s says that the lew d servant girls heaped
insults on h im and his m other, eprjt κιφ αλήι . . . μ η τΐρ ι θ ' ή μ π ιρ η ι (χχιι. 463—4).
(b) So m etim es it su ggests alfcction for the person referred to. Agam em non
addresses T e u c e r as φΙΧτ) κιφαλή, Τ ιλ α μ ώ νιι, κοιρακ λαών (v u t. 2 8 t); after
P atro clu s' death A ch ille s refers to H ector as φίλης κιφαλής όλτπ·ρα (x v ti:. 1 14);
he says that he honou red P atroclus as m uch as his ow n self, nipt το\—αη· τΓο»
tTiu'pwv, I ι'οοι· ipyji κιφ αλή■ (.W ill. 8 1 - 2 ) , and he addresses the w raith as τβ<ίη
κιφαλή ( χ χ ιιι. 9 4); Penelope speaks o f her longing for O dysseu s, tritji νά,ι
κιφαλήν notUoj μ ιμ ν η μ ίν η ai'ei j ανδρός (i. 3 4 3—4 )- (r) Som etim es it im plies a
reference to m o rtality. A ja x is afraid that he and M en elaus w ill be killed. <*1151
κςφαλψ πιμι& ιίδια, μ ή τι πάΟηιοι, 1 και <η;ι (XVII. 2 4 2 - 3 ) ; M en elaus im agines the
m en o f T r o y g iv in g recom pense b y their ow n deaths and those o f their
fam ilies, avv οφήιαιν κιφ αλήιοι, γ ν ν α ιζί re καί τ ικ ιια α ιν (ιν. 1 62); the ransom
w hich P riam w ill p ro vid e fo r the dead H ector is Έ κταρίης κιφαλής α π ιο ιία ’
άττοιια ( x x iv . 2 76 , 579); O d ysseu s alludes to the tragedy o f A ja x ' death, τοίην
yap κιφαλήν . . . γαϊα κ α τ ισ χ ιν ,I A ιαί'Θ' (xi. 549~5° ) · C om p are also the
p e rip h rasis w ith κόρη or κόρη vor (sec below , n. 38).
1,1 A p art from A . N u ssb a u m 's com parative-lin gu istic analysis o f κόρη,
κάρηνον, and cognates (19 8 6 ), O nians ( 1 9 5 1 : 9S- · >7) offers the only substantial
stu d y know n to m e o f the earliest G ree k ideas about the head. O n ian s's basic
 The Corpse and the A fterlife >75

men them selves: their b odily substance is w hat goes dow n to

Hades, as in the standard pattern that w e have o b served in
other allusive or rhetorical passages. T h e plot thicken s w hen
we odd som e scraps o f inform ation from the scholiasts. F irst,
Apollonius read xofiaXós instead o f φυχάς in the proem passage.
If his version w as otherw ise identical to o u rs, H o m er w o u ld be
made to say that κιφαλαί w ere sent to H ades w hile they
themselves, α υ τ ο ί , becam e the prey o f the beasts: but sin ce
the periphrasis with χίφαλάς also stands for the m en as a w h o le,
this opposition w ould not m ake sense. T h e problenrj is so lved if
Apollonius’ version also om itted lines 4—5, w hich acco rd in g to
further scholia w ere athetized b y Z en o d o tu s. W e w ould then be
left with a shorter text,
■fj μ υ ρ ί ' Ά χ α ιο ΐς ó X y t ' 10η κ ( ,
π ο λ λ ή ς 3’ ιφ Ο ίμ ονς κ€ψ α λάς sltót π ρ ο ια φ η *,
ί ξ ου S-ή τ ά -πρώ τα ύ κ ια τ ή τ η ν Ι ρ ία α ν τ t κ .τ .λ .

The bald fact that ancient sch olars p referred a sh o rt versio n to

a longer one need not m ean that the κιφαλάς versio n is m ore
likely to be H o m eric.32 It could be argu ed that in A g a m e m ­
non’s aristeia it is sim p ly a truncated versio n o f a fam iliar

argum ent is that the head is the scat o f the ψυχή and is hen ce the scat o f the
essence o f life itself. T h e H o m eric e v id e n ce fo r th is is o f tw o k in d s, n e ith e r
fully satisfacto ry. F irs t, H o m er re fe rs to se ve ral cu sto m s im p ly in g that the
head is p o w erfu l, n o tab ly the d ecap itation o f sla in e n em ies and the s ig n ific ­
ance attached to sneezing as a fo rm o f in v o lu n ta ry p ro p h e sy in g (T e le m a c h u s
at xvii. 5 4 1- 5 0 ) . T h is ce rtain ly su g g e sts that at an e a rlie r stag e o f the trad itio n
the head w as in som e sense sp iritu a lly im p o rtan t, b u t the su rv iv a l o f the
customs in H om er m u st not be taken as the su rv iv a l o f sp e cific b e lie fs.
Onians’ s second piece o f evid en ce is the s im ila rity o f ce rtain ψυχή fo rm u lae
to κιφαΧή fo rm ulae in con texts o f life at risk o r life lost (c f. W ard en (19 6 9 ) ,
153- 4)· O nly v e ry h ard P arrs ism w o u ld allo w th is as p ro o f that the tw o w o rd s
are identical or alm ost identical in m ean in g.
Sch o l. b T on 1. 3 says that A p o llo n iu s read κ < ψ α λ ά ί, an d sch o l. A that
"«o<nir T iv t f μ π α γ ρ ά φ ο υ σ ι κ ΐφ α λ ά ς ” ; sch o l. b T and A on v il. 3 3 0 arc also aw a re
of the reading π ,φ α λ ά ς in l. 3. S c h o l. A o n I. 4 sa y s that Z e n o d o tu s ath etized
1 4- 5. hut docs not g iv e a reason . T h e im p licatio n s o f th ese sch olia ore
discussed in P ag liaro ’s stu d y o f the p ro em ( 19 5 6 : 2 1 - 3 6 ) , and m o re b rie fly b y
Redfield (19 7 9 ).
” It IS hard to know w hat to m ake o f the trad itio n that in the C y c lic e p ics
the w ord « « d s w as used w h ere ψυχή m ig h t have b e e n e xp ected (N o sti, fr . ι ζ
Bem abe).
176 Death and the A fterlife .,
im age o f φυχαΐ descen d ing, and that the ancient editors mis.
tnkenly altered the proem in o rder to harm onize it w ith that" ‘ ^
passage or to en ab le them selves to cut out the (supposedly) - -,*·
u n ch aracteristic reference to the m utilation o f corpses by birds
and b e asts.31 H o w ev er, the logic o f the w ords themselves
su R gests that the versio n with κιφαλάς represents the Homeric
n orm and the φκχάς im age is an exceptional creation.·1·* Though
ΐφΟιμος is a d ifficu lt w o rd it refers consistently to strength and ,· .
v ita lity , to m uch the sam e qualities as those w hich we saw
em b o d ied b y the noun ϊς, vigo rou s m obile strength or its
em b o d im en t in m uscles and sin ew s (see C h. 4, pp. i u - i j ) 3*
It is p o ssib le that the adjective is actually built on that noun.
A sim ila rity , at least, between being ΐφΟιμος and having good
is is su g gested w hen the adjective is used o f w arriors display­
ing their p h ysical strength in attack, and still m ore closely j
w hen ΐφθιμας is used o f rivers (x v n . 74Q; cf. is ττοταμοϊο,
X X I. 3 56 ), A th en a’s shoulders (x v m . 204; cf. ϊ ς in xi. 393-4),
and also the heads o f cattle, ΐφθιμα κάρ-ηνα ( χ χ ιιι. 260; cf. ϊς at !
X V II. 5 2 1 —2 ) . 3,1 φ ν χ -ή , on the other hand, is alw ays weak, Ojjj·1

13 Su p R ested b y P ag liaro (19 5 b ). " Ä j·

S e e P a g lia ro (19 5 b ) , 2 1 —3 ; R cd ficld (19 7 9 ), 1 0 1 - 3 .
35 ϊφβιμος re fe rs to stre n g th , p rin cip ally such stren gth os is b orn e out in "
e ffe ctiv e actio n . W h en it is used as an epithet w ith the nam es o f m en or women
it is h ard to p in d ow n the sen se, but a few instances m ake it clear that what is
in q u e stio n is p h y sic a l p o w e r and v ig o u r (see esp. vtti. 14 3 - 4 , XII. 4 1 0 - 1 1,
X V I . 6 2 0 - 1 , X X . 3 5 6 —7 ; xv i. 89, 2 4 3 -4 ). S tu d ie s o f the w ord (principally
W ard en (19 6 9 ), A th an assak is ( 1 9 7 1 ) ) h ave produced theories w h ich make
its p ro b le m s seem m ore co m p le x than the evidence w arran ts. E xce p t for
ΙφΟΙμους ψυχής (on w h ich sec m y arg u m en t here), there is o n ly one problem in ;>V:
th e w o rd ’ s u sage: it is u su ally tran slatable as ‘ stront?’ or ’ m ig h ty ’ , but ns an
e p ith e t it is u sed as often o f w om en as o f m en. It is plain that H o m eric women
are not e sp e c ia lly w eak o r d ain ty, and that strength in u b road sen se is borne
o u t in the b o d ily v ita lity o f a w om an as m uch as in the b ru te force o f the male
w a rrio r (see A . A . P a rry ( 19 7 3 ) , 23 n. 1). I f w e ncccpt th is and allo w for the
p o s sib ility that ίψΟίμους ψυχής is m odelled on ίφϋίμανς κιφ αλάς, then there is no
lon R cr an y need fo r such a co m p lex d efinition us that p ro po sed by W arden
(19 6 9 ) : ‘ seed y, rich , fe rtile , fat; virile, se x u a lly potent; endow ed w ith rich
so u l-m a te ria l, p o w e rfu l, stronR in a n o n -b o d ily sen se; stron g in a bodily
sen se .
Th 'ftpöj
vid en cc fro m e ty m o lo g y is e q u iv o ca l. T h e first elem ent o f ίφΟιμος
•»’jit
o b v io u sly resem b les the in strum ental !φ i from Ις, and nlso recalls the adjective
Ιψιος (ίφια μήλα, o f livesto ck, V. 556; xi. 10 8 , etc.); but it is a p ro b le m that in
scan sio n ϊψι and f^ior reg u larly show the digam m a requ ired b y mf i t , w hile -‘•U­

ti
t i
· .i
fr

The Corpse and the A fterlife >77

evanescent, and stren g th less, w h eth er it is identified as the cold

3nd dissipated breath o f death o r ns the v ain ly flitting shade o f
the dead m an in H ades, so that on the face o f it the co m b in a­
tion o f w ords in Ιφθίμους φυχάς is odd and even co n trad icto ry:
•vigorous w isp s’ , 'sin e w y gh o sts’ . B y contrast, ιφθίμους κίφαλάς
is typical o f H o m eric w o rd s associatin g strength w ith the
head.17 T h u s a w arrio r puts his helm et onto his stro n g head,
κρατί 8' t ir 'ΙφΟίμοη (lit. 33Ó = XV. 4 80 = XVI. i 3 7 = xx ii. 12 3 ), and
oxen are βοών Ιφθιμα κάρηνα (x x iii. 2f>o; sim . ix. 407). T h e latter
phrase occurs in a list o f athletic p rizes, J
λ ίβ η τ ά ς r e τ ρ ίπ ο δ ά ς r e ,
ίπ π ο υ ς θ ' ή μ ιό ν ο υ ς r e β ο ώ ν τ 'ι φ θ ι μ α κ α ρ η ν α ,

where from the parallelism it is clear that the heads stand

m ctonym ically for the oxen as a w h o le.38 T h is p ro vid es a
precise parallel with the ιφθίμους κιφαλάς o f the w arrio rs ns
the bodily m en d escen d in g to H ad es. In term s o f fo rm u laic
construction, then, it seem s that in the proem the phrase
Ιφθίμους φυχάς has been built creatively on the sim p ler one
which does not separate φυχή from corpse b ut pins the jo u rn e y
on the κ€φαλή, the u n d ivid ed hum an b ein g.y>
T h a t is not to su ggest that the im age o f the separation o f
corpse from φυχτ) is artificially im posed on H o m eric death. T o
claim this w ould be to ignore the fact that the lines w hich
ΙφΟιμος n e v er d oes so. It is p o ssib le , i f o n ly b are ly so , that ΐφΟιμος is cogn ate
with is b u t lost its d igam m a at the p re -H o m e ric stage (argu ed b y A th an n asak is
(>97>))· I f this so lu tio n is not acce p te d , the e ty m o lo g y m u st rem ain o b scu re.
T h e re is no sa tisfa c to ry e xp la n a tio n fo r the second elem ent o f ΐφθιμος. (F o r
further, and m o re o r less d u b io u s , su g g e stio n s on the o rig in s o f ΐφθιμος see
L J rt E s .v .; both C h n n train c and F ris k co n clu d e that the e ty m o lo g y is lost.)
17 κιφαλτ), κόρη, and κάρηνον are n a tu ra lly sy n o n ym o u s for the head, and
κάρηνον is cogn ate w ith χάρη (see C h a n tra in e s .v .. F risk s.v .).
51 T h e p e rip h ra sis w ith κόρη o r κάρηνον an d the g e n itiv e is found in sim ilar
contexts to that w ith κιφ αλή. N o te e sp . the fo llo w in g in co n texts o f dcuth or
the threat o f d eath : ττυκιά καρήαΟ' ΰφ ' "Εκτορι δάμνατο Λαών (XI. 30 9 ); ώς ά ρ ' νττ*
Α τρ ιΐδ η ι Ά γ α μ ιμ ι·ονι π ΐπ τ ι κάρηνα (χ ΐ. 15 8 ); τή ι ρα μάλιστα | αιδρώι* π ΐπ τ ι κάρηνα
(XI. 499~ 50 0 ): αώ i δ'α ϋ το ύ κράατι n o r it , m e an in g ‘ you w ill p ay by yo u r death'
(xxii. 2 18 ) ; φάρμακου . . . I . . . 0 Kev 701 κράτος άλάλκηιοιν κακόν ημαρ (χ. 2 8 7 -S ).
*’ R ed ficld ( ΐ 9 7 9 : ι ο ί ) arg u e s that the au th o r o f the p ro em ad apted the
form ula ιφθίμους κιφαλάς in to ιφθίμους φυχάς in ord er to oppose "the d ead ’
going to H ad es w ith ‘ the d e a d ’ m u tilated b y b ird s and beasts: " a v r o v t, then,
m otivates φ υ χ ά ς".
«78 Death and the Afterlife
narrate the deaths o f Patroclus and Hector nre as H om eric as
anything could be, and that the briefer images include two
exam ples— N estor's overview o f the battle (vn. 330) and the
death o f Elpenor before the N ekuia (x. 560)— which cannot be
shown to depend directly on sim pler images o f descent by the
whole person. W hat the evidence does suggest is that the
descent o f the ψυχή is a difficult and recondite image which
remains bound up with the sim pler and m ore pervasive
conception that the man who has died has gone by the same
token into the m ythological land o f the dead. It is for the same iU
reason that when O dysseus rails against Polyphem us and says
that lie wishes he could kill him he talks o f sending him to
H ades ‘bereft o f ψυχή and αΙών (ix. 5 2 3 —4), and when Nestor
im agines a wish to die he talks o f one's θυμός going down to
Hades (v n . 1 3 1 , sec Ch. 5, p. 138). Because the abiding
m eaning o f the death-journey is the descent o f the physical ' Jt
man to H ades, it can be elaborated in ways that flatly ignore the
possibility o f expressing it as descent by a ψυχή.
.-a
Hades is below the earth men stand on ■

• V». _
I f the bodily m an, the κ ιψ α λ ή , descends to Hades, where
exactly docs he go? Although O dysseus finds its entrance by
sailing towards the edges o f the world, it is fundamental that
H ades is directly below the earth on which m ortals live,·*" as
Poseidon expounds when he recalls the division o f the world
between him self and his brothers (xv. 18 7 -9 3 ): H ades’ portion
was the dark places, ζόφος (xv. 19 1), below the earth m irroung
Z e u s’ dom ain in the upper brightness. Poseidon’s version is
unusually schem atic,41 but it is confirmed when the narrative
*° F o r the prin ciple that the m ythical place is alternatively rem orely distant
from o r vertically b elow the w orld o f m ortals, com pare H esiod'» A tlas: at one
point in the Theogony he is on the w estern edge o f the w orld , i r ntipaa 1 jm'ije
( 5 1 7 —19 ), w h ile at another he is deep in T a rta ru s (746-8).
■ " n u rk ert (19 9 2 : 9 0 -6 ) holds that the schem e referred to by Poseidon hits
been lifted d ire ctly from N ear E astern sources at a late stage in the
developm ent o f the epic tradition: this possib ility m ust m ake us m ore w ary
o f taking it as an in dex o f H om eric beliefs as su ch . H o w ever, w ithin H om er
the schem e is not unparalleled: for exam ple, w e m ust visualize a strict
m irro rin g correspondence betw een Z eu s above and H ades below if w e are
to explain Z t i t καταχθόνιοί as a title o f the god o f the nether w orld (tx. 4 57; cf.
 The Corpse and the A fterlife 179
leaps from the w orld o f m ortals to the w orld below : for
example in the T h co m ach y o f Iliad xx, when the O lym p ian
family has suddenly m aterialized to join the battle before T r o y ,
Poseidon shakes the earth in his wrath and H ades fears that his
realm will be laid bare:
t S iio t v δ* v n t v t p ie v ά ν α ξ tv tp w v jilH u tvtvs,
S tto u ; δ 'ί'κ θρόνον ά λτο κ α ι ΐα χ τ , μτ) ο ι ΰπΐρΟ<
γ α ΐα ν ή ν α ρ ρ ή ξ τ κ Π ο σ ιι& ά ω ν Ινοα ίχΟ ω ν,
α ΐκία δ ί θ ν η τ ό ιο ι κ α ί άΟ ανάτοιαι φ α ν ιίη
a p tp h a X ï' ίύ ρ ώ ιν τ α . . . (ΧΧ. 6 | —5 ) y

The image is startling, but there is no reason to think it at odds

ith H om er’s understanding o f the structure o f the w o rld ,42
which is no less com plex than that expounded b y H esiod (see
csp. 11. 7 8 0 -3 , v in . 1 3 - 1 6 , 4 7 8 - 8 1, with Theofi. 7 3 6 - 8 10 , esp.
74 0 -3).43
H om er’s characters evoke the sam e idea in h yp erb ole w hen
they say that it w ould be better to die than endure d ish on o ur or
defeat.'*'* T h e w ording varies from speech to speech, but the
image clearly refers at once to d yin g and to being sw allow ed up
by the earth: thus a hero asham ed at the accusation o f c o w a rd ­
ice would wish for the ground to yaw n open b efore him , T o r e
μοι χοίροι ΐύρΰα χθών (iv. 18 2 , v u t. 15 0 );45 the A chaean s rem ind
each other o f the m ortification that w ould be caused b y a
retreat, αλλ’ αυτού γαϊα μίλαινα \ π&οι χάνοι (XVII.
Priam w ishes that before he secs T r o y sacked he m ay go
West at H esiod, ll'D 4 6 5. on Z e u s C h th o n io s as ‘a ch th o n ic c o u n te rp art o f
Z eu s').
1 E d w ard s ad Ioc. has a usefu l note co m p arin g x x . 6 1 - 5 w ith H e sio d 's
descriptions o f the T ita n o m a ch y ( T h eog. 6 7 8-8f>) and Z e u s ' b attle w ith
T yp h oeu s (8 39 -4 3). O n the ve rb a l and them atic co rresp o n d en ces see also
M ondi (19 8 6 ). 3 5 - 6 (w ith n . 26), 4 2 - 4 .
M . L . W est goes so far as to su ggest (at TheoR. 7 2 0 - 8 19 ) that the fo u r-
storey u m verse o f v m . 1 3 - 1 6 i , in ven ted to outd o the th re e -sto re y m od el o f
the Theogony. N eith er here nor in W e st's m ore recen t w ritin g s on the su b ject
( 1995) do I understand w h y he co n clu d es that the in llu en ce m u st ru n in one
direction rather than the other.
. *?or ,*1' 5 h yp erb o lic desire fo r death co m p are also x v i. 10 2 . x x iv . a-ic -A

τ ή ι ó p o vo tv άναξ τ τ α λ υ δ ιγ μ ω ν .
I So Death and the A fterlife
dow n to 1 Indes, βαίην f>ó/im· rlhSoï cfoiu (xx iv . 24(1); lind 1 lector,
still m ore clearly, prays that before gerinn A ndrom ache diu-
honoured he should die und he covered over by a heap o f earth
«ΙΛΛιί fit TtOin/ιΰτα χντι) K a ra y n ia κιιΛ ότττοι (vt. .|i».|; sim , VI. .|l i),
'I'he im plication is that to ro below the soil is the sam e thing us
to ro to H ades, a connection that H ector again m akes under a
slig h tly different form w hen he w ishes Paris were dead:
(US' K t Ol* f n V l

Y(Ί|~(Ι γ ά τ ο ι. μ ί γ α V**P l1 1 * Όλνμττιος Ϊ τ ρ ΐφ ΐ π ή μ α

Γ pujο ί τ* κ α ί I I p in p a n fityaX r/ropi το ίό τ ί τταισι'ν.
t l Kttvóv y c ίήοι/ιι κ α τ ίλ θ ό ν τ ' JliS o c f l a w ,
4>a(r)V κ ι φ ρ ίν ' ά τίρ ττο υ ό ΐζ ΰ ο ς iitXtXaOéaOai. ( v i. 2 S 1 —5)
I f the earth gapes to sw allow him up, he will go to Hades.
S im ila rly when m en have died the earth holds them , κάτΐχιν
φυσίζοος αία (e.g. in . 24 3; xi. 3 0 1 —4).46 B y extension, in battle
o n e's collapse on the groun d carries an om inous significance of
its ow n: the victo r b rin gs his victim down to the soil, n c X a a t
χΟονΙ ττουλυβοτίΐρτηί (v u t. 277 = x ii. ig 4 = x v i. 4 18 ) and the slain
descend tow ards and into the earth, γ α ία ν ΐ& ντ-ηΐ’ (vt. 1 9 ) .
A ch illes d raw s out a sim ilar image in scorn when he faces
L yc ao n , w hom he had previou sly captured and released. Since
the sea was not enough to restrain his foe from returning,
A c h ille s asks w hether this time the earth will be enough to
do so,
ή ή ρ ’ ό μ ιϋ ς κ α ι KtiOti· iX c v o t r a i. y μ α 1 c p v fri
ytj φ ιια ϊζ ο ο ς , ή τ ί κα τά κρ α ,τίρόν n tp ( ρ ύ κ ίΐ. (ΧΧΙ. 6 2 - 3 )

T h e earth w ill hold him dow n in the very real sense that he will
descend into it when he is killed.

The purpose of the funeral is social

If H ades lies d irectly below the w orld o f the living, a journey
into the soil w ill bring one to the land o f the dead. Since the
heaped earth that covers the dead m an’s grave, χυτή κ·ατά -/αία
καλνπτα (xiv. 1 1 4), is by the sam e token what covers Hades, it

4Λ O n I mii Ii occasion» this lin e refers to «he D io scu ri: ii is im possib le lo tell
w h ether the w ords ^.κσίζοο« ala ca rry any special m ythical o r ironic sign ific­
ance in this con text.
 The (.'or/ne mul the A fterlife ιΚι
follow · I lint burial is ti tiliinlizeil Vi-reion o f the jo u rn ey to l lie
ii Ilcrl lie.47
I'or exam ple, A ch illes Wiint.i l’iitrocliin' honen to he
lirpt so that they can accom pan y his ow n when he is buried in
I linies, *«V o Kf»* ni’ r o j / γ ι ο υ / l i ü i K t t U h o / u i i (x x ill. 2-14). ju st as he
siivs less exp licitly that when he dies at T r o y the earth will
I,old him , πΰτοι" [sc. y a f a uaOe(tt (x v ill. 3 3 2 ) / " and he will
go down into it after P atroclu s, neu uartpos ef/i’ ύπο γαιην
(X V I It. 333)· In this sense w hen A ch illes gives Patroclus his
funeral he is sending him to H ad es, έταρον γάρ άμύμονα ιτίμιτ'
;iiSóe5e (xxtlt. 13 7 ). S im ila rly , w hen he tells A gjjm cm non to
send his men to gather m aterials fo r the fun eral, the purpose is
to provide the dead m an with w hat it is fitting, erneutes» for
him to have around him on the jo u rn e y to the shadow s
below:411
ύλην τ ’ ά ξ ΐμ ε ν α ι -trapa r e σ χ ί ϊ ν o a a ' < V it i κ ίς
ν εκ ρ ό ν ίχ ο ν τ α vteoOa 1 1ατό ζό φ ο ν tje p o e v ra . (X X I II. 5° ~ *)

T o be buried, to go below the earth, and to descend into

darkness are com plem en tary aspects o f a single process.
H ow ever, this view o f burial is com plicated b y the fact that
Homer often im plies that death is fo llo w ed im m ed iately b y the
descent, w ith no ritual process to m ediate betw een the two.
Androm ache rem em bers that her b roth ers w ere all slain by
47 F o r the corresponding principle in historically attested ritual, compare
Rcdfield (19 75: 17 9 —86), B rem m er (19 8 3: 89—108), and G arland (19 8 5 : 13 —
37). interpreting the early G reek funeral as a ritualized jo u rn ey to the
Underworld in several stages.
" For the implied reference to death in ynta κα θίζ(i here, com pare 11. 699,
XVI. 629; xi. 549, xiii. 427 = x v. 3 1 ; and see n. 46 above.
tv T h ere is some doubt over the sense in which A chilles thinks it fitting for
beasts and T ro jan captives to be slaughtered in Patroclus’ funeral (xvm .
336-7. x x ill. 22—3, 16 1-8 3 ) . It has been argued that a m em ory o f the custom o f
sending human victim s to accom pany the dead prince may lie behind his
savage actions (see c.g. Andronikos (1968), 27-9 ). H ow ever, such human
sacrifice is not attested elsewhere in G reek funerary tradition (sec Hughes
(* 9 9 ·), 4 9 - 5 6 ) . and nothing that Achilles says suggests such a purpose; he
carries out the slaughter in order to appease his own anger, oiOev trrapivoio
χολωΟ'(ς (xvill. 337 = x x ill. 2 3; on this ritual vengeance as a sym bol of
Achilles’ savage mood, sec cap. Sch napp-G ourbcillon (1982), 77 -8 7). It
remains phssihlc that an ancient custom has been remembered in the epic
tradition with its original eschatological purpose forgotten or suppressed (cf.
. below, n. 53).
1 82 Death and the Afterlife
• '!*'
A chilles in the sack o f T h eb e, and on that day they went to
Hades:
, . . . .
ο ! μ ί ν ττά ιτίΓ Ιώ ι κ(αι· ήματ» *liSoy ιΐ σ ω ,
ττάι-Tas y a p κατίιτΐφνι τ τ ο δ ά ρ κ η ς S t o f Α χ ι λ λ ί ΰ ί . (vi. 4 2 2 —3 ) »
· · · ' **
T*ltis retrospective view corresponds to the prospective, as
when a foe threatens Sarpedon before com bat:
ο ΰ δ ί r i at T p w ta a tv ο ία μ α ι άλκαρ tataO ai
ίλΟ όιτ* Ι κ Α υ κ ιη ς , ο ΰ δ’ ei μ ά λ α κ α ρ τ ιρ ό ς i a a t ,
άΑΛ’ ΰττ’ ίμ ο ΐ Β μ η θ ίιτ α ττι'Λαϊ /Ιίδαο -π ίρ ή α ίΐν. ( ν . 6 4 4 —6)

T h e idea is the sam e when a w arrior boasts that victory will

give him glory and add a new wraith to the retinue o f Hades:
« υ χ ο ί ίμο'ι δοίης, ψυχήν 8' /Ιίδι κλυτο-ώλωι (X V I. 625; sim.
ν. f>54 = Xt· 44S)· Sim ilarly H ector rem em bers the moment
when he had swooned and expected to die im m ediately, to
reach the hosts o f the dead and the house of Hades on that
same day:
κ α ι δ η Ï y u iy ' (φ ά μ η υ ν ίκ ν α ς κα ί δώ μ* Ά ΐδ α ο
■ ήματι τάιιδ* ΐ( ( σ θ α ι. ffr t i φ ίλον αίαν η το ρ . (X V . 2 5 1 - 2 )

W hen A ndrom ache laments over H ector, lying dead on the

battlefield, she describes him as already on his w ay to the house
o f Hades:
νύν δ ί ού μ €ν λ ΐίδ α ο όά μ ο νς νπ δ rctvGtat γ α ίη ς
ip x t a i. ( X X I I . 4 8 2 - 3 )

A gain , the sons o f Antenor descend to Hades im m ediately

when Agam em non has slain them:
ifO ' Α ν τή ν ο ρ ο ς Dies ύ π ' Α τ ρ ( ίδ η ι β α α ιλ ή ί
ττότμον άΐΌττλι)σαι·τ*τ ^δυ^ δόμ ον ,-ίΓδο? «Tau», ( χ ΐ. 2 6 2 —3)

A chilles produces an interesting exam ple in his speech of

vaunting irony over Lycaon. Rem em bering the previous occa­
sion when he had him at his m ercy, he remarks that the T ro jan s
whom he was slaughtering w ill return to face him again:
w 7707701, η μ ί γ α θ α ύ μ α τοδ* ά φ θ α λ μ ο ϊο ιν ά ρ ω μ α ι,
■η μ ά λ α δ η T p w es μ ( γ α λ ή τ ο ρ ( ς , ο ΰ ί n t p Ι ν ίφ ν ο ν .
α υ τ ι ς ά ι·α ο ·η ) α ο ι·τ α ι ϋ π ό ζ ό φ ο ν ή ι ρ ό ίν τ ο ς . . . (Χ Χ Ι. 5 4 “ 6 )

T o return from death is to re-em erge from the darkness o f

 The Corpse and the A Jterlife 103
I lades and the darkness that falls on the d yin g m an s sight.
T h is raises the aw kw ard question: if one w ho dies can be said
to go im m ediately and directly to H ades, how can this e
squared with the idea that he is tran sferred grad u ally to H ad es
in the course o f his funeral? In a sense the difference is like t tat
between a solitary m eal and eating at an ordered feast: in p u rely
existential terms the experience o f death b rin gs m an from the
mist that falls on the eyes to the gloom y darkness o f H ad es, but
in terms o f his continuing relation sh ip w ith his peers he is
transferred to a new en vironm ent in the shared celeb ration o f
the funeral. . .
H om er's w ords show that the fu n era l's purpose is essen tially
social: the dead m an, like the liv in g , exp ects to m eet w ith his
due from his peers, and the funeral exp resses his status in
relation to them .50 Ju st as d u rin g h is life he is given p rivileged
reward, yepaj, because o f his station or his personal w orth , and
just as the gods are accorded sacrifice as their ytpas from
mortals ( i v . 49 = X X IV . 70), so the rites accorded to the dead
are their due portion o f honour, ytpas Ο α ν ό ν τ cuv .51 T h e s e w o rd s
cover the cleaning o f the corpse (xx iv . 186 —90), the ritual
lament (x x m . 9; x x iv . 190, 2 9 5 -6 ), w eep in g (iv. 19 6 -8 ), the
*° O n this them e G a rla n d (19 8 4 ) has been e sp e c ia lly u s e fu l; see a lso
Edw ard s (19 8 b ).
51 ytpas is in d eterm in ately α p riv ile g e d so cial p o sitio n o r a g ift o r m a rk o f
respect accorded b y o th ers. F o r e x a m p le , a k in g ’ s righ ts an d p riv ile g e s as lo rd
o f the household arc co llec tiv e ly his ytpas (c .g . x i. 1 7 5 , 18 4 , XV. 5 2 2 ), an d the
giving o f counsel and the co m m u n icatio n o f im p o rtan t m e ssag e s is the ytpue o f
old men (iv . 3 2 3 , tx. 4 2 2 ), w h ile a re w ard a p p o rtio n e d to a w a rrio r fro m the
spoils o f victo ry is itse lf a y«pas (1. 18 4 —5 , ix . 1 1 1 , 3 3 4 , e tc .; s im . v ii. 10 , x i. 5 3 4 ,
etc.). T a p lin (19 9 2 : 6 0 - 3 ) d iscu sse s the in stitu tio n o f ytpas am o n g Ilia d ic
w arriors, defining it as 'a co m m u n ally ratifie d d istin c tio n ' ( 6 1) . G a r la n d (19 8 4 :
b -7) defines ytpas as 'e ith e r co n cre te ly, a g ift , s e rv ic e o r re w a rd ; o r a b stra c tly ,
the entitlem ent to a g ift, se rv ice o r r e w a r d ', and su g g e sts that y«par can
som etim es be specifically w hat is acco rd e d in v irtu e o f in trin sic w o rth rath e r
than in varyin g am oun ts acco rd in g to d iffe re n t acts o f m erit (on this see also
E fg r E s .v .). S im ila rly A g a m e m n o n is d e s c rib e d as y rpupós in ap p e aran ce
because o f h is air o f k in g ly au th o rity ( i l l . 17 0 ). O n the o th e r h an d , the
giving o f ytpas is re g u la rly a sig n o f sp e c ia l τ ιμ ή , ju s t as the co gn ate ve rb
ytpaipu) is used o f the cu stom o f p re se n tin g th e b e st-d e se rv in g w a rrio r w ith the
choice portion at the feast (v u . 3 2 1 ) . T h e w o rd ytp as m u st b e co gn ate w ith
ytpw v and'ytpauis (see L f g r E and C h a n tro in c s.v . y tp as; and n ote csp . ih c fig u ra
etym olog ica at iv . 3 2 3 , ix. 4 22 ): if there is a n active lin k b etw e e n the m e an in g s
it is p re su m ab ly that old age is in trin s ic a lly w o rth y o f h o n o u r an d d e fe re n ce .
 *84 Death ond the A fterlife
cutting o f the m ourners’ hair (iv. I0 7 -S ), the closing o f the
dead one’s eyes (xxiv. 296), and the erection o f a memorial
(xvi. 45O—7 = XVI. f174—5; see n. 61 below). S im ilarly, to honour
the dead is vrcp(f)i’^o> (xi. 4 55 , .w in . 334 , XXii. 336 , χ χ π ι.
x x iv . 657) or tn i κτίρια κτ*ρ«ιζ<α· ( x x iv . 38; i. 2 9 1, ii. 222
iii. 2S5): a κτίρας is a mark o f respect towards one’s peer, for
exam ple the prestige given to a w arrior as reward o f his
prow ess (X. 2 to, v. 3 1 1 ) or given to a guest by his hosts by
the aw ard o f a choice gift (xxiv. 3 3 5 ) .'1 T h is duty is what
A gam em n on ’s shade refers to when he recalls that C lytaem ­
nestra neglected to close his eyes and mouth when he was laid
out m death, denying him proper treatment on his w ay to
H ades:

O iW μ 04 to rn rrep rtf ΛΙΓ3αο.

κ&τ οφθαλ+ιοίς t\(’cir ιη·ι· re σ τ ό μ * (x i. 4 2 5 —6)

T h e need for honourable treatm ent continues after death, and

it is to the visib le dead man that such honour is accorded. The
com plexities o f the funeral are an expansion or elaboration of
the sim p le fact that death is descent into the earth, a social
w orkin g-out o f the existential reality o f passing into the soil
J
and into the U n d erw orld . .
S in ce social relationships persist after death, men can be sent
dow n w ith different degrees o f prestige. F o r exam ple, when
D eiph o b u s reacts to the death o f a com rade b y killing Hypse-
nor, he says that he is givin g his friend a com panion for his
jo u r n e y :53 ft

' · T h e s e » orti» cars en com pass the w hole process o f the fu neral, and they
are not restricted to one ritual act w ithin it (see esp . x x m . 646, x x iv . 657J.
H o e lest.-2 ( 15 6 5 : 1 4 1 —2) holds that the w o rd s rrip ta represent a relic
fro m p ractices in .M ycenaean in hum ation, no longer understood b y Homer
an d m isap p lied to crem ation . F o r a m o re sym pathetic view o f the H om eric
m e an in g o f m ip t '.1 m p<Z±ti* see G a rla n d (19 S 4 ), 2 1 —2, w ith M ylonas
(» 94»), (,4.
53 A s in the case o f the slaugh ter o f T ro ja n s at P atro clu s' funeral (see above,
n . 4 9 ), it is p o ssib le that this boast looks back to a cu stom b y w h ich human
vic tim s w ere slaugh tered to m ake up the retinue o f 3 prince on his w ay to the
U n d e rw o rld . T h is m ust rem ain d ou btful, as the boast m ay sim p ly be building
h y p e rb o lic a llv on the im plication s o f the fam iliar practice o f killin g an
ad d ition al en em y in ord er to sate the desire fo r vengeance fo r the death o f a
frien d (see e.g. xt. 2 4 S -5 3 , x m . 6 6 0 -7 2 . x iv . 4 7 6 -8 5 . collected b y G arland
(19 8 4 ) , 1 3 , w ith n. 3 1 ) .
•-Ï-V -

'. * .
'l iT r
 The Corpse muI the AJterlife 185
011 μ α i' α υ τ ' ά τ ι τ ο ς Κ ( ΐτ ' s l o w s , α λ λ ά f φ η μ ι
(IS /litSoV n r μ Ιόντα ττυ λά ρτα α K p a rr p a to
yijO Aotiv κ α τ ά θ υ μ ό ν , i n t i μ ά o l ι ΰ π α ο α π ο μ π ό ν . (ΧΠ Ι. 4 14 —1Λ)

Although the image is exaggerated, it reflects the social reality

that a retinue signifies prestige. Again, the mound and the stele
nre crucial because they ensure that the dead man will be
remembered and continue to gain fame (v il. 8fi—yo; iv. 584,
xi· 7 5-6 . xxiv. 80-4). It follows that the funeral o f an insignif­
icant man can be treated quite casually: the battlefield o f the
Iliad is strewn with corpses (vm . 491 - x. ujq , XI. 534, XX· 490*
etc.) and O dysseus neglects E lp cn o r's funeral for vague rea­
sons, isrtl πόνος άλλος trrttyt (xi. 54)· ' ^ hen one is maltreated
after death or denied a funeral, it is a disgrace to those
responsible, since they have withheld the respect that is owed
by one man to another. For exam ple, when A chilles restrained
him self from dishonouring the corpse o f Ection he did so out o f
a sense o f hum ane respect or reverence, otßäoaaro γάρ το γ<
θ ι- μ ώ ι (vi. 4 J7 ): H ector w am s A ch illes not to dishonour his
corpse because such arrogance w ill be a cause o f divine
vengeance, <?pt*#v μ ή η μ α (.XXII. 3 5 S - 6 3 ; sim . xi. 7 3 ) , and when
Achilles lets the corpse rot A pollo says that he has lost p ity and
shame. r cop and αιβώ·» txxiv. 4-4).
\\ hat c i cremation? T h e devouring o f the corpse b y fire35 is
the most striking part o f the funeral'"' (see esp. v n . 4 2 1 —32,
** G irla r .:: ( ly S a j. 7 - to ; ci. B u ch n e r 1193T 1- 1 = 5 - 7 . R ein h ard t <1948).
t J S - 4-
3 For the image o f ’devouring" consider - r i r r=r —Je isJai and Έχττ,ρα. .. . |
TT» b e s rip jn (XJtm. 1 8 2 —3).
44 T h » ch apter does not concern itse lf srjth artatever h istorical realities
may lie fcehir-d H o m e r's Literary evocation o f fa n era ry custom . A close
sim ilarity has beer, observed betw een th e details o f the fu n erals o f P atro cli»
and H ector and these o f the royal fu n e rary ritu als prescrib ed in H ittite teats
from B ogaakoy (see G u rr.e y ( 19 5 2 1, 1* 4 - 9 ; O tter. (19 5 8 ); C b risn n a n n -F ra n ck
(197O; Stein er ( 1 9 7 D ) , b u t this cannot be used as p ro o f that sim ilar
eschatological b eliefs are in volved. S im ila rly , o u r discussion c f the relation­
ship betw een corpse and w raith in the present chapter could be read in the
light o f the fact that M ycen aean b urials are m ostly inhum ations and those o f
the early A rch aic period are m ostly crem ations (for a detailed su rvey see
Andronikos (1968)). B u t the relationship betw een real-life b elie f and practice
and the created w o rld -v ie w o f the e p ic m ust rem ain m ysterious, and such
speculations w ill not b e pursued here. It is perhaps hecause o f the sym bo lic
im portance w h ich the choice betw een crem ation and inhum ation has acquired
 |S*v
ι86 Death and the A fterlife m <
X X III.15 4 - 2 6 1, X X IV . 784-800; xii. 8 - 1 5 , xxiv. 6 3-8 4 ), and for
the m odern reader it m ight seem sensible to associate the ■ . ·
smoke o f the burning body with the escape to H ades o f the
w raith,57 whose m ovem ent is likened in a different context to ■
that o f sm oke, jjot« καπνός | tit^ero (x x iu . 10 0—1). But the
H om eric realities arc different. N ote that the verb θάπτω refers
to the whole process o f com m itting the corpse to the earth, not
specifically to the burnin g.58 C rem ation is only one part o f the
long process o f the funeral, and there is nothing to suggest that
it is the decisive event that transfers the dead man to the
U n derw orld or (still less) that it releases a wraith from the - J .
corpse. Rather, its purpose is social in the same w ay as that of »<·
the funeral as a whole, and allusions to crem ation bear this out: r£ ·
a man expects that the m ourners w ill give him his due portion
o f fire, πυράς μ ( | Α<Λάχαισ< (ν'II. 79—80 = X X II. 342—3· sim,
X V . 349- 5° . XXIU. 7 b ) , and dead men arc to be shown courtesy
through fire, πυράς μαλιοσίμεν [sc. ΐ’/κυα?] (vil. 4 1ο ).60 Crem a-
in Christinn eschatology that it has heen all too easy for scholars to over­
emphasize the importance o f cremation in Homeric death-belief. For the
argument that cremation symbolizes the decisive banishment of the dead to a
powerless afterlife, see for example Rohde (1925), ch. 1 p a s s i m · , Nilsson * - V *
( • 9 ^7 ). *74—8, and cf. Schnaufer (1970), 58—63; and for warnings against
inferring death-beliefs from the practice of cremation, see Andtonikos (1968),
129; Bremm er (1983), 72.
” See e.g. Rohde (19 25), 2 1; Bickel (1926), 87-95.
5" For this as the meaning o f θάπτοι, note esp. ον γάρ τιω irtOamo <rro χθονός
(xi. 52), which implies that the action of the verb is the installation of the dead
man in the tomb. T h e reference to burial qua burial is equally precise when
Scam ander threatens to throw up a mound of earth over Achilles, boorting
hyperbolically that the Achaeans will not need to raise an artificial mound over
him: a ijtov 01 καί σήμα rrrnifcrai, 0 1 * o c τ ι μιν χρτά» | βσται τσμβοχόττς, ore ,.α­
πόπτωση- Μχαιοι (XXI. 322—3). This accords well with the etvmolopy of bc.Tr o
and rd£oi, since they arc cognate with τάφρος, ‘ditch’ or ‘ trench1 (for this point
see Chantraine s.v.).
Com pare kindred uses of \αγχάνίσ: λάχομτν y ip a i (IV. 49 ~ xxiv. 7c);
λαχάντα . . . ληίύος a ‘σαν (χν ιιι. 32 7; sim. v. 40 = xiii. 138); ίλαχον * r ιρίων
(v. 3 1 1 ) ; τ ι μ ή ν . . . λ(λ6γχαου· (xi. 304).
M T h is seems the best interpretation o f ττνρός μτιΛιααϊμτν, a diff icult ex­
pression. In other contexts the rare verb ptM aaui (elsewhere o n ly at
iii. 96 = iv. 326) and the commoner adjective μ€ίλΐχ{ι)ος (iv. 256, vi. 343;
vi. 14 3, X. 17 3 , etc.) refer almost always to speech, and characterize it as gen tle
or courteous or occasionally even wheedling; similarly A jax rallies the
Achaeans by telling them hyperbolically that their salvation lies in action as
opposed to slack inactivity, μτιλιχίηι πολτμοιο (xv. 7 4 t; for this interpretation
 The Corpse and the A fterlife 107
tion is not intended to let som e spiritual part o f m an escape in
smoke; rather, it preserves the identification o f the visib le b o d y
with the T o f the dead m an— to die is to go to H ad es, and to be
c r e m a t e d in the course o f the funeral is to be sent there w ith
due dignity. A lth ou gh there is no sign in the lliacl o r Odyssey o
the possibility o f in h u m atio n /'1 it is interestin g that the C y c lic
U tile Iliad told the story that A gam em n on had A ja x d isposed
of by inhum ation with the exp ress pu rp o se o f h u m iliatin g and
dishonouring him after death.6
T h is view o f crem ation m ust influence our read ing o f the
extraordinary passage in w hich the ghost o f P atroclu s ap p ears
to A chilles and begs that his funeral be carried out at once.
When the ghost tells A ch illes that after the crem ation he w ill no
longer return to haunt him ,

οι) γ ά μ « τ ' α ν τ ις
ν ϊα ο μ α ι Ι ξ Ά ΐδ α ο , iir y v u t π υ ρ ά ς λ(λάγτ)Τ€ . . . (Χ Χ ΙΠ . 7 5 —'&)

he says that when he has been treated fittin g ly, ‘ been given h is
due share o f fire’ , he w ill have no need to v isit A c h ille s again ,

see Janko ad Joe., com paring Hcs. Theos- 206). A gain , titbits throw n to dogs to
please them arc μ ιιλ ίγ μ α τα θυμού (x. 2 17 ) .
*' An exception has sometimes been claim ed in the verb τα ρχνω . T h is
occurs in two contexts in H om er, and in both it refers in som e w ay to the
treatment of a corpse after death: Sarp ed o n 's kin w ill erect a m em orial for
him, ταρχΰσουσι . . . τνμβιοι re στήΧηι τ ι (xvi. 456—7 = 674—5)» and i f H ector
wins the duel with A jax his foe's corpse w ill be returned so that he can be
honoured as appropriate, ϋφρα e τα ρ χύσ ω ο ι χάρη κ ο μ ό ω υ τίζ Α χ α ιο ί | σήμα τ ι οι
χοΐωσιι- (νιι. 8s-6 ). Since the exact sense o f ταρχύιο is unclear, som e have
sought to link it to τάριχος, a m um m y or a salted fish (sec e.R. B lü m cl (19 2 7);
Hoekstra (196 5). Ι 4 =~ 3 )· If ihis is true, then the w ord m ight originally have
referred to the practice o f em balm ing the corpse. O thers (sec N a gy (19 8 3), and
Chantrainc s.v.) hold that the word is a borrow ing from L»ycian, L u w ia n , or
llittite, 'som ething like tarhu, ‘ ‘conquering, victorio u s" ' (N agy), so that in the
passage about Sarpedon's burial it would refer to the prospect that he w ill be
deified by his people. T h e problem with both these interpretations is that each
fails to fit one o f the contexts in which the verb is attested: the defeated G reek
warrior would hardly be deified by his burial in an enem y coun try, and the
provision o f mound and gravem arker is not what w ould bring about the
preservation o f Sarpedon’s corpse. (K irk at v u . 8s is sim ilarly dubious.)
Litlie'Ihad, fr. 3 Bernobe. In the N ekuia O dysseus refers to the burial o f
Ajax in a way that is consistent, ut least, with the story o f his inhum ation
(Xi. 54 9 -5°)·
 • 88 Death and the Aftcrlife
blit he cannot mean that this will separate him into ash anil
wraith so as to render him physically incapable o f returning·/'·1
the wraith already exists, and the being who addresses Achilles
is referring to each in the first person, /it. When Patroclus says
that he will remain in I lades after funeral honours have been
granted, this probably looks to stories in which the dead took
vengeance on the living for insulting them and dishonouring
their m e m o r y . I he same principle sheds light on O dysseus'
encounter with the shade o f Iilpenor in the Nckuia. Elpenor
asks that he be given a funeral as a mark o f due respect:

/ο) /ι’ άκλαντον lïrtanroi· hin- SniOtv κ<ιτηλ»ιπ«ιΐ',

l'üιιφ ιο θ ιlV, μ ι) τa l τι Οιtór Iη'/rt/iri y /νω/ιαι,
ciΛΛιΐ /a κακκ'ήαι oiV Titiu m ', αασκ μ η ! ι ατI,
οήμά τ« ροι χνύαι π ο \ιή ( in i flu-ι Ραλΰοσΐ)! , . . (χΐ. 7 2 - 5 )

I f he rem ains unburied his m istreatm ent w ill be a cause of

divine anger, μ ή ν ιμ α , because burial is what all men deserve
from the their fellow s (com pare Hector at xxtt. 358: discussed
above, p. 1S 5 ).'’5 T h is point needs to be em phasized, because *
*5 Proetus’ summary o f the C yclic N o i t i records that Achilles’ ghost
appeared in an attempt to warn his comrades of what lay in store on their
homeward journeys. T h is was naturally long after his funeral, and it implies
that die funeral rite did not prevent him from haunting the world of men. It is
impossible to tell how close such a story is to Homeric conceptions of life after
death (cf. Davies (1989), 56—7; Anderson (1997), 40; with the more general
treatment o f Griffin ( 1 9 7 7 ) ) .
M T h e most startling example of this theme in Greek tradition is a story
from Tem esa preserved by Pausanias (fi. 6. 3). Odysseus stopped there on his
return from T ro y , and one of his sailors raped a native woman, in punishment
for which he was stoned to death. Odysseus sailed away without giving him a
funeral, and later the ghost of the sailor, 6 'llp u t s , ravaged the land and
terrorized the people. On the oracle’s advice they built a temple in bis honour
and dedicated a maiden to his pleasure once n year, which placated his anger.
Eventually the valorous Euthvmus fell in love with one of these women and
fought the phantom for her; it was defeated and was never seen again. For
further speculation ahout the fear o f returning ghosts see csp. Rohde (1925),
1 3 - 2 4 ; Otto (19 2 3 ), l t - 1 3 .
6' T h e words μή τοl τι βιών μήνιμα γίνωμαι also appear in Hector’s plea to
Achilles for proper treatment after death (X X I I . 358). In his notes to xi. fi( t - y 8 ,
Heubeck maintains that Elpenor’s language deliberately draws on clichés of
heroic culture for the sake of ironic or comic effect: ’T h e heroic language . . .
highlights the incongruity o f Elpenor’s claim to status: his birth, station in
life, achievements, as well as the manner of his death, arc all profoundly
 The Corpse am/ the /Ifter life 189
mnny o f the com m entatore have assum ed that the passage
reflects a com plex doctrine about the effects o f cremation on
the dead rnan. Sin ce lilp cn or in the first o f the dead to approach
Odysseus, it has been argued** that because lie has not been
cremated lie is in a lirninal state between life arid afterlife, not
yet fully a wraith*7 and hence forced to wander at the entrance
of I lades. N othing in the text suggests that. lilpcnor is a »/»ayrj
(xi. 5 1, etc.) or «ίδιολομ fxi. 83) like the others, and it is nowhere
implied that he is at some interm ediate stage o f admission to
the afterlife. W hen ( -Idyvsciiu says that he wan the ly st wraith to
come up to him from H ades, the lines
■ ηριίιτη Hi ’fa'XV Έ λ π ή ν υ ρ υ ς ή λ θ α · tru lp n ii'
oii γά/ι π ω 4τiO tm t (j untj χΟονάς * upuüfi* (τρ; (xi. $ 1 —2 )

mean sim ply that the urgen cy o f his request for proper and
dignified treatm ent, yepne Οανόνταιν, is what makes him stand
forward first from the throng who have em erged out o f the
gloom (xi. 3 6 -4 1): there is no im plication that within H ades he
is somehow different in status from the main population o f the
dead. When he speaks to O dysseus, his request for burial does
not mention anything about its effect on his life in H ades
(xi. 72-8 ), and the issue in the m eeting is the code o f mutual
respect w hich gives every funeral its m eaning.
unheroic'. It is im possib le to d isp ro ve this, but there is no n ecessary reason to
accept it. although E lp e n o r in life w as a feeb le person (see esp. x . 5 5 2 —3). it can
be argued that the solem nity o f the present scene in H ad es, with the
ur.tirr.cliness of his death and the pathos o f his su fferin g, give him a new
dignity w hich m akes a h igh er style ap p ro p riate (cf. also F o ck c (10 4 3 ), 2 12 ) .
See B rem m er (19 8 3 ), S 9 -9 0 , an d H eu h eck at xi. 5 1 - 4 .
07 This argument about Elpenor's status depends largely on the fact that he
speaks to Odysseus without drinking the sacrificial blood: the scholarly
explanation would be that he is not fully a wraith because he has not yet
been reduced in substance by being burnt. T h e answer is not far to seek: since
Odysseus himself at this point does not understand that the blood is what
enables the wraiths to think and speak (Tiresias' explanation comes later, at
xi. 14 7 -9 ), it is hard to hclievc that l lom cr's audience understood the ritual so
well that they would have appreciated an unstated principle which exempted
the unburied dead from that requirement. A s we will see later in this chapter
(below, pp. 19 3 , 2 1 6 —17 ) , Elpenor is not the only wraith for whom the poet
ignores the requirement of drinking the blood; and given the shifting
character of the death-lore of the whole Nekuia, there is no good reason to
invent doctrinal subtleties to explain such minor inconsistencies ns this.
K )0 Death and the A fterlife

etKvs/vtxpói denotet both corpse and dti'cller in Hades

If the dead m an passes into the afterlife in his b o d ily shape, the
logical conclusion ought to be that the corpse and the dw eller in
Hades are the sam e thing: and although logic is not what we arc
looking for, the observable truth is su rp risin gly close to that
suggestion. T h e sim plest indication is that both in the murtal
world and in H ades the dead arc regularly called by the same
name, viκυτ/veκρός, 'corpse, dead m an’ . T h is lexical unity
suggests that in som e basic sense he plays his part in the
sam e b odily form on both planes o f the w orld: and in practice,
as we w ill sec, the careful shaping o f language and story-telling
prevents this from leading to absurdities.68 H ere our main
source is naturally the N ekuia o f the Odyssey, w here for once
the narrative brin gs us right down into H adcs,6,> with the
shorter episode w here A chilles is visited in sleep by the ghost
o f Patroclus (x x m . 6 5 -10 7 ) . I hope it will become clear that the
two provide a single body o f evidence that chim es well with the

b* A s we have noted (Ch. 2, nn. 38 -4 0 ), it is central to Dickcl's argument

(19 26 ) that the eschatological survivor, ψ υ χ ή , is in some sense a ‘ living corpse’
(sec csp. 0 —17 , 2 2 —s). He mentions the semantic range of iV«vs to support his
claim (see csp. 8—12), but he is led to odd arguments when he tries to make
aui/ia equal ψ υ χ ή in meaning. Dickel believes that the language of Hades
incorporates fossils preserved from different periods of death-belief; in
particular, he works out the relationship between ‘psyche as living corpse*
and 'psyche as phantom* by assigning different images and formulae to
different stages in a development towards the soul-belief familiar from
I’indar (fr. 1 3 t h M ). It seems throughout that Dickel is exaggerating his
case as part of a polemic against Rohde (see e g. 3 2 -4 ). For reactions against
Dickcl's scheme see Regenbogen (1948), 6 -7 , with refs. A more subtle er.d still
thought-provoking version of Dickcl's line of argument is advanced by
DQchner ( 19 3 7 : csp. 1 1 6 —17 ), relying (perhaps vaguely) on the idea that
Homer’s death-mythology is affected by ‘ the remnant of a primitive idea*.
T h e relationship between ψ υ χ ή and ‘ living corpse’ is also surveyed by
Schnnufer (19 70 : esp. 58—70), with a reconstruction of what he sees as pre­
Homeric beliefs preserved in fossil form in the Nekuia (125^ 76).
h* Although the Nekuia is told not by the primary narrator but by the most
mendacious of H om er's heroes, 1 do not think anything is to be gained by
declining to take it as a serious document of Homeric belief about the afterlife
(see e.g. Diichncr ( 1 9 3 7 : 1 1 9 - 2 2 ) , speculating about the remoteness o f the
Hades o f the Nekuia from 'real' death-belief; cf. also Reinhardt (1948), 5 2 -7 .
1 1 8 —20). T h e remote is not necessarily fantastic, and the tone of the Nekuia is
solemn ond serious (on this sec Sourvinou-Inwood (19 9 5), 7 1 -6 ) .
 The Corpse and the A fterlife >9 *
rest o f H o m er’ s lore o f the afterlife. M y w o rkin g h yp o th esis
that the N ck u ia is a un ity is defended sep arately in section i o f
the A p p en d ix to this chapter.

The dweller in Hades is corpse or shade

T h e inhabitants o f H ad es are seen in two w ays: on the one hand
they arc corpses, on the other they are w raith s, ph an to m s,
images. (In the latter catego ry none o f those E n g lish tra n s­
lations explains an ythin g, but for b re v ity ’s sake w e w ill use the
word ’shade’ , w hich has the ad van tage o f b ein g v agu e and
am biguous in itself.) On the level o f n am es the d ifferen ce
between the two categories is sum m ed up in the d istin ction
between νίκυ<^υίκρός for the first and ψυχή and ειδώλου fo r the
second, though in practice the identities run in tandem and
seem almost to jo stle for su p rem acy from line to line and from
word to w ord. A s νεκνς/υεκρός, the inh abitant o f H ad es is a lw a y s
identified as the dead m an proper, with the ap p ro p riate g en d er
and w ith the w ord νεκυς/νεκρός interchan ged w ith the p ro p e r
name; when he is ψ υ χ ή or ειδώλου, g ra m m ar p reserv es the
fem inine or neuter gen der and H om er speak s o f the sh ad e o f
the dead m an.7" O bserve O d ysseu s’ first en co u n ter in the
Nckuia. H e pours a libation fo r all the co rp ses, ττάοιν νεκύεααι
(xi. 26) and prays to the strcn gthless heads o f the c o rp ses,
νεκύων άμευηυά κάρηυα (xi. 29) in their m u ltitu d es, εθυεα νεκρών
(xi. 34)· But w hen they an sw er the sum m on s th ey em erge not
as dead men proper but as shades:
at 5 ’ άγέρο ντο
ψ υχαι υ π ε ζ (ρεβεi/s νεκΰιυυ κ α τ α τ ε θ ι π ι ώ τ ω ν . (xi. 36—7).
Τ hese are literally w raith s o f dead co rp ses’ ; b ut im m ed iately
the image shifts:
υ ν μ φ ο ι T ιμ θ ε α ι r t ττοΛυτΛι/τοί re γ έ ρ ο ν τ ε ς
π α ρ θ ε ν ικ α ϊ τ ’ ά τα λ α ί ιε ο π ε ιθ έ α θ υ μ ό ν ε χ ο υ σ α ι,
π ο λ λ ο ί δ ’ ο υ τ ά μ ε ν ο ι χ α λ κ ή ρ ε ο ιν ε γ χ ε ί ψ ο ι ν ,
ωδρες άρψφατυι βεβροτωμενα τεύχε’ εχοντες. (38 -4 1)
N ow they arc the people them selves— g irls, yo u th s, old m en,
children, and w arriors. N o te esp ecially that the w a rrio rs b ear
7,1 C f . J a h n ( 1 9 8 7 ) , 37 .
 192 Death and the A fterlife
the w ounds by which they killed: they have the physical
appearance that was theirs after death, because each is the
bodily substance o f the m an who died in the m ortal w orld.
T h is gives new w eight to the im age o f the house o f H ades as
rotting or putrefying, cupiotι·τα (xx. 65; x. 5 1 2 , xxiii. 322,
x x iv . 10): those who dw ell there are not distinguished from
the people who died, and they can be seen as decom posing
flesh.71 H ere lies the logic o f the fact that they are called
‘co rp se’ :
τι'τττ’ α ΰ τ ', ω δύοττ]rc , λ ιπ ώ ν φ ά ος Ή ίΧ ΐο ιο ,
ήΧυΟ ίς, όφρα ΐ 8η ι ιΊ κ ν α ς κ α ί α τ cprtca -χώρον;
(xi. 93-4; sim. χ ν· 25 »)

A single sentence can slip from one articulation to the other.

F o r exam ple A ch illes asks O dysseus w h y he has com e to see the
corpses, the im ages o f w orn-out m en:
π ώ ς ϊτ λ η ς JlC oóaSt κ α τ ίλ Ο ί/ κ ν , <ι·Ρα r r vetepni
ηφραδΐίς ν α ίο ν σ ι, β ρ ο τΰ ιν (ΓδαιΛη καρΛντων; (xi. 475~ f*)
S im ila rly O d ysseus d escribes his m eeting with T iresias:
f)\0( 8' tnl φΐ'χν Θ η β α ίο υ Tftpralao,
Xpt'otnv σκι'ιπτρον tytui1, tp! 8‘fyvtu καί vpooitnu. (xi. OO—1)
'Phe ψυχή o f T ire sia s in the first line shifts to T iresias him self,
m nsculinc, in the second. U p to a point, this can be explained
m echanically on the groun d s (for exam ple) that the appropriate
form ulae for d escrib in g T ire sia s are all m asculine anyw ay; hut
it w ill turn out that this shift between verbal patterns is part of
a deeper am biguity as to whether the inhabitant o f 1 lades is the
man h im self or som ething wc could call a wraith.

” T h e ad je ctiv e ..V i s ·it in found in I lom er only 11· tin epithet o f die
U n d r n v .n l.I, nftr/u . . . α μ ιρ & η Μ '· 6ρι!*ντα (xx. ί·4~ 5). Λ ίδο .ι . . . X iipw ,,'p,ütrtn
(h j i j , ΝΝ.ii. p a ) , » a r ' rt'/tworii κ/.1·ιιί1ιι (x x iv , ιο ), ι.ιι.Ι Illli'W lir in I leni.i.l.
T e n ta tiv e ly , iis m eaning e n tic in lrr rr .l Π .ιιη Inter iillc .liilio rn o f il.r cognate
noun «.Vu·«· w h ich is found in tlir lyric and elegiac port» d rn o lin u m »l und
d reu y (see o p . T h g n , 4 5 * . Sim o n , fr. 531* *1 1*< Hacchyl. fr. *|. 7 1 S —M ). I lie
w ord s i'mi ίΛφιοι «i7.11'. er. in h .t 'r r . .|Hj closely rc l.o uni {Λφν¥ (xi. 57),
und tlii» seem s to have p ro m pted die op in ion in som e ancient sch o lars that
«ü/iuMif refers to d arkn ess and o b scu rity rather than decay. O n the p ro b lem see
esp. L J p r lï s .v ., glossin g t ip iit it ns 'm o d e rig '; also A ly ( 1 9 1 4 ) , <<4-9.
 The Corpse und the A fterlife 193
T o show that this am b ig u ity is not a m atter o f w ords alone
but also o f ideas and beliefs, o b serve the parallel question over
whether or not the dead are able to think and speak for
them selves. W hen the shade o f O d ysseu s’ m other fails to
recognize him (xi. 8 8 -9 , 14 0—4), T ire sia s explains that the
dead cannot think or speak until they have d runk the blood o f
the sacrificial victim s (xi. 14 6 -9 ). T ire sia s h im self retains
w isdom by the special fav o u r o f Persephone (xi. 9 0 - 1 , and
see X. 4 9 3 —5 ) , but none the less he drin ks the blood b efore he
utters his prophecy (xi. 9 8-9); and A n ticleia, ^thc fam ous
women, and A gam em n on are obliged to d rin k it before their
conversations w ith O d ysseu s can begin (xi. 1 5 3 —4, 228—32,
390). S im ilarly, the dead are d escrib ed as άφραδέζς, foolish or
heedless (xi. 4 76 ),72 and their feebleness is borne out in
another w ay w hen they c ry out w o rd lessly, Oeairtairp ιαχήι
(xi. 43) or ηχήι Otaneaiyi (xi. 6 33) w ith a sound like the
screeching o f bird s, κλαγγή . . . οιωνών <Ζς (xi. 605), ju st as
Patroclus’ w raith squeaks as it fiics aw ay to H ades, οηχ€το
τίτριγυΐα (χ χ ιπ . ι ο ί ; com pare the bat sim ile in the Secon d
Nckuia, xxiv. 5 —9 ) . 73 Hut elsew here this them e is forgotten: the
shades o f Elpenor, A ch illes, and A jax arc not said to d rin k the
blood before they can speak n orm ally to O d ysseu s, anti in
the latter part o f the N ck u ia the dead are fu lly in control o f
them selves in thought, speech, and actions alike. Ju st as
Hom er is am bivalent o ver w hether the dead in I lad es are
em pty images or dead m en ol sub stan ce, so his conception o f
their ability to think anil speak like living m en appears and
disappears in differen t contexts.

” <Ι·/·/μιΛ·;« i« il-prlviillvr w ith n »torn limit n a lbo mime nu ll tin In φ/>ιΙζηριιι

(( I inn 11 nine ».ν'.), vvliji It 1« ulvt I tnUml In ||»r iiuiia II dm I mult' null n t
invulling i* die null iiilliri dum II» rrmdlnnl vvnril» (11 |iulnl vvlili Ii I» iiilinlU nlly
ilmitilliil) lilt'll In miy dull dm lim it in r ιΙ./.,ι.ιΑ/,, I» mpiiviilrnl In »iiyinu dull
they k*ek <t>i'tm i , 11» Achille» riinrliuli·» vvlmit In· tliub dull Ι ’ιιΐιικΊιι»' yhn»l
luil,» f J i v i i i t i l nuti t l iiiu' i' (XXIII. lo.|; »re li rlu w , |i. noy vvlili a. 1J7).
' 1 C l. Ilii'iiiiu rr'n d isillu sio n ( i i j Hj ; H 4—«>) o f dm 'w illrn»iiea«‘ ol d ie w ritllli·
(uml com pare l*M|(r ( 10 3 5 ) , / i - j ) , T h e laut dull d ie w intllin r i y uni tluei m il
net r»»m ily inrun I lint llicy m e 11 nn| in hi ■· o f llin n a lil, lu ll nnlv ill··· llir y 111c III
iin|{iii»li: uml die w ord» il/urijnl mJ / h/vh do nol refer to in lrllm iiiul frrtilrn r» » ,
•in cc fd vo t ί» ii»»ociulrd not w ith iu tcllij(eni e lu ll vvlili lim lily pow er und the
will to vigorou s action (»ec Cli. 4 a b o ve , cup, p p . 1 0 9 - 1 1 ) .
194 Death and the Afterlife

The shade is defined as remnant or as counterfeit

W here does the dead m an’s identity, his 'I ', reside in relation to
this dweller in Hades? T o answer that wc must unravel the
strands o f im agery in which the survivo r is som ething distinct
from or less than the corpse that was buried. B roadly, the shade
can be characterized in three ways: as a reduced remnant o f the
dead man, as an em pty image o f him , and as som ething that
flits and w afts along on the air. T h ese themes bear separate
exam ination.
F irst, the dw ellers in H ades arc feeble remnants: they are
v e x ó w v ά μ ( ν η ν ά χ ά ρ η μα (χ. 52 t, X. 53^> χ ·- 29. 49). heads bereft of
the μ ό ν ο ς that is vigo u r o f w ill and action. T h e y are the
χ α μ ό ν rer, the exhausted ones (ill. 278) and they arc etScuAa
κ α μ ό ν τ ω ν (χ χ ιιι. 72; xi. 476, xxiv. 14), images o f exhausted men.
T h is word χ α μ ό ν π ς is im portant. W ith the intransitive aorist
one who is χ α μ ώ ν in death is wearied and enfeebled,7* ju st as
χ ά μ α τ ο ς in the living is tiredness and cnfecblcm cnt in the body
and especially in the jointed lim bs (see esp. tv. 230, v. 8 1 1,
vu. 6, XIII. 85, 7 1 1, XXI. 52; i. 19 2 , x. 36 3, xx. 118 ). T h e dead
are worn down alm ost to nothing, v t x v t s χ α τ α φ θ ί μ ΐ voi (xi. 4 9 1),
reduced by a lack o f lively vigour that robs them not only of
vitality but o f strength and substance.
T h is concept is well illustrated in O dysseus’ m eeting with
the shade o f Agam em non. W hen he stretches out his hands and
is unable to touch him , his lack o f substance reveals that he is a
faded remnant o f Agam em non him self:

74 H om eric χά/ivui »hows a broad range o f m eaning. T ra n sitiv e ly die verb

m eans to com plete the m aking o f som ething, as Όκ-τμπρον ν ό μ ι τ α ^ ω .
(it. ι ο ί ; likew ise v. 7 3 5 , v m . 19 5 , etc.); but w idtout a direct object the
em phasis sh ifts to cessation o f an action in tiredness, »0 that one becom es
p h ysically w eary o f slayin g. k<J/.c x*ïpas ivaiptur (XXI. 26) and likew ise one
ceases to w eep , x i p t δάκρυ χ/ουοα (χ χ ιν . 6 13 ) . T h e reference seem s to be to
tiredness alone w hen one about to sleep grow s w eary in his lim bs, xapt
φαίδιμα γνϊα ( .w ill. 63), and it m ust be in this sense that die dead are the
καμό.-Tcy. F o r the shift from transitive to intransitive senses com pare, for
exam ple, M id d le E n g lish neinhen, ‘ to toil’ , w here ru m k l can mean
‘exh au sted ’ .
 The Corpse and the A fterlife 195

κ λ α ft 8'5 y ( λ ιγ ΐ ω ς , OaXtpóv κ α τ ά δ ά κ ρ υ ο ν tiß u iv,

η ιτ ν ά ς f is t u i χ ιΐ ρ α ς , άρΐζασ Ο αι /ttv e a ίν ω ν ,
oAA’ ο ν γ ά ρ οι « τ ' η ν ΐς ΐ μ π ί δ os o vS e τ ι κ ΐ κ υ ς ,
ο ΐη π ιρ n a p o s ΐ ο κ ι ν i v i y v a /in ro ta i μ ίλ < α α ι.
(xi. 39, —4ί sim. Λ· Ven 237~8)

W hen he stretches out his arm s he is light and strcn g th lcss,

vitvAs . . . X 'ipos” T h e w ord τιάρας, ‘p re v io u sly ’ , identifies this
being with the man w ho once lived: this is still A g am em n o n ,
but w ithout the strength he had as a livin g m an. T h is is borne
out by the point that he lacks ΐς and κϊκυς. 's, as *ve have seen
elsewhere (C h. 4 , PP- «1 >->3). >s m uscle and sinew or the force
o f physical vigour that young m en have in the prim e o f life;
κϊκυς here is a hapax, but in H o m er its m eaning is clear from
the adjective άκικυς (ix. 5 1 5 , x x i. 1 3 O . referrin g in con tem pt or
sham e to the weakness o f a puny m an. T h e w raith 's w eakness is
couched in terms very sim ilar to those in w h ich N esto r
describes the feebleness o f his old age:
ο ν γ ά ρ ί μ ή ΐς
ia O ' οϊτ) π ό ρ ο ς ΐ ο κ ι ν i v i γ ν α μ π τ ο ϊα ι μ ΐ λ ια σ ι. (ΧΙ. 668—9)

T h e verbal correspondence su ggests that the dead m an has

been worn down to his present state b y so m eth in g akin to the
decay and reduction— φ Ο ίν α ν , φ Ο ινϋΟ (ΐν — that the liv in g sufTer in
old age, or indeed by the m ore decisive loss o f αιών that com es
with death (sec above, pp. 16 0 —1). T h is im p lies that across the
divide between life and death it is the b o d ily sub stan ce o f the
man which is reduced to d ie em p ty feeblen ess o f the afterlife.
T h is m arches w ith the distinct, even seem in gly con trad ic­
tory, idea that the shade is an im age that resem b les the dead
man in shape but lacks any physical substan ce. T h e key w o rd is
ιίδ ω λ ο ν , w hich is freely interchanged w ith the oth er nam es for
the shade (see esp. x x m . 72, 10 4 ; xi. 8 3, 2 1 3 , 4 7 6 , x x . 3 5 s ) .7ft
” C om pare H o m e r's o th e r tw o e x am p le s o f th is v e rb π ιτνά ω o r π ίτ ν η μ ι,
built on the sam e root as ττιτομαι, π τ ά ι ν υ μ ι . H ern c asts a m ist to d rift o v e r the
fleeing T ro ja n s, ηίρα S' Ή ρ η | iriVin πρόσΟι βα θιΐα ν (χ χ ι. 6 - 7 ) ; H e c to r's h air
floats behind h is head as A c h ille s d rags h im alon g b e h in d h is ch a rio t, άμφ'ι 5i
χοιται I K t n i n a n m'rvui^o (XXII. 4 0 1 —2).
70 On the disp u ted p assag e ab o u t the ιϊδωΛον o f H e ra c le s in H ad es see
below , A p p e n d ix n. t s .
 ig6 Death and the Afterlife
T h e heart o f this word is in substitution and m im icry,77 ns is
shown when it appears in other contexts. In an Uiadic battle
(v · 445- 53) A pollo whisks Aeneas aw ay to safety and puts in his
place a false phantom to deceive his foes:78

7' V ern am ( 19 8 5 : 3 2 3 - 5 1 ; 19 9 0 : 2 5 - 3 4 ) has a th eo ry com paring the

H o m eric ciaojAoi' w ith the difficult w ord κολοσσός. In the passage of
A e sch y lu s’ Agam em non d escrib in g M e n e lau s' g r ie f at the loss o f H elen, the
w o rd s τύμόρφσιι· Si κολοσσών ίχθ ςτα ι χάρις arSpi (4 16 —17 ) have been taken in
tw o w ays: cith er the κολοσσοί arc statues or pictures o f H elen adornin g the
house, o r they are im ages lin gerin g in M e n e lau s' m in d. V ernan t argues for
the latter, and p ropose* that there is an exact equivalence betw een κολοσσοί
and rfSoiAoe. H e holds that each w ord can be applied cither to a phantom or
to a g rave-m ark er, both b eing things w hich serve as rem inders o f absent
ones: 'I ls rraduisent, sous des fo rm es ä des n iveaux différents, l'inscription
parad oxale de l'ab sen cc dans la p resen ce' (19 9 0 : 28). H o w ever, the inter­
pretation o f κολοσσός 'su r le plan p sych o lo giq u e’ (19 8 5 : 330 ) in the Aeschylus
passage is not assu red ; and in H o m er ςίδαιλον is n ever used o f a grave-m arker
o r oth er con crete m em orial, fo r w hich the usual w ord is σήμα o r τύμβος (also
W o *, x x iit. 12 6 ). W h atever the value o f V e m a n t's theory for the later
connotations o f cith er w o rd , it cannot e asily b e projected back onto
H o m e r. (S e e R o u x (i9 6 0 ) and F racn kcl ad loc. fo r the argum ent that
M e n e la u s’ κολοσσοί arc m an -m ad e im ages; B en vcn iste (19 326 ) is close to
V ern an t, u sin g κολοσσός to advance a theory about an Indo-European
con cept o f im age-m akin g).
7“ B ecause this is the on ly passage in the I lia d w here a god replaces a mortal
w ith n p hantom , som e h ave condem ned it as an interpolation. K ir k (ad loc.) is
co n servative, but W est (19 8 5 0 : 13 4 - 5 ) , holds that both the ri3u»Aor o f Aeneas
here and that o f H eracles in the N eku ia (see A p p e n d ix, n. 15 ) are interpola­
tions m odelled on Stesichorus* fam ou s story about the ςίΖωλον o f Helen
(frs. 19 2 —3 P). H e com pares til. 380—2 , w here A p h ro d ite w hisks P aris away
from the battle w ith ou t leavin g an y ctSiaAov behind. B u r it is hard to sec why
the passage about A e n e as' ιΐ&ωλον should h ave been interpolated in the first
p lace, and the m o tif is not u n -1 lo m eric: a person is replaced by an ιΐόιολον in
m uch the sam e w ay in P e n e lo p e 's dream (iv. 796—839), and the deception is
sim ilar in kind to the p assages in w h ich a gad disgu ises h im self as a m ortal in
o rd er to con fu se h is foes: com p are csp. A p o llo disgu ised as A gen o r, slyijvopi
πάντα Ιοικάις (χ χ ι. 600). I sec no rationale behind W est’ s claim that the image
is n e cessarily likely to be based on S te sic h o ru s' H elen rather than on some
m ore ancient floating sto ry-p attern w hich Ste sich o ru s deployed in a new
con text. G o d s replaced people w ith rfSoiAa at least tw ice in stories preserved in
the H e sio d ic co rp u s, as W est h im se lf poin ts out, and despite the com parat­
iv e ly late date o f the attestations there is to be no reason to deny that the m otif
m ay go back to the earliest tradition (see H es. fr. 2 3 3 . 17 - 2 4 M —W , Iphim cde
rep laced b y an ciStuAov w hen about to be sacrificed; fr. 260, Endym ion
d eceived b y on eiStuAo·· o f H era; and c f. m ore d o u b tfu lly fr. 35 8 ). On the
q u estio n o f su b stitu te <(3ωΑα in general, see m ost recen tly C ran e (19 8 8 : 8 7 -
 The Corpse and the Afterlife «97
α υ τά ρ 6 ctStoXον ά ρ γ υ ρ α τ ο ξο ς Α π ό λ λ ω ν
α ν τ ίδ ι τ ' A iv t la i Γ κίλον κ α ι τ(ύ χ € σ ι τ ο tow,
ά μ φ ι 3* ά ρ ' € ΐδ ώ λ ω ι Τ ρ ιδ ίς κ α ι ό ιο ί Α χ α ιο ί
δτμονν ά λ λ ή λ ω ν ά μ φ ι στηΟ^σσι β ο ε ία ς . . . (V. 449“ 52 )

T h is efStwW exists only as the sem blance o f the m an.79 T h e

closest analogy is with the m otif o f a god appearing in disguise
to distract people’s attention, w here he takes on the appear­
ance, δέμας or eiSos, o f a m ortal: it is in a sim ilar w ay that the
εϊδωλον exists as Sr/tas or είδος alone.8,1 Lik ew ise Athena sends
an «Soi.W to bring Penelope a m essage in a dream (iv. 795—
839).81 Instead o f appearing at the head o f the bed h erself in
mortal guise (cf. vi. 2 2 -4 ),82 she fashions this phantom to
impersonate Penelope’s sister:

f i S m . W TTOtijae, δέμας δ ’ ν ϊ κ τ ο y u v a u q ,
Ί φ θ ϊμ τμ , κ ο ν ρ η ι μ ίγ α λ ή τ ο ρ ο ς Ί κ α ρ ίο ιο . ( ί ν . 7 9 6 —8)

It is because the shades are illusory shapes o f this kind that they
are so easily confused with real people, and m ay even w alk and
talk like them: ju st as the etScoAoi· o f A eneas stands on the

9 1), w ho argues against b racketing either o f the disp u ted H o m e ric passages;
and on S tesich o ru s' H elen see also A u stin (19 9 4 ) w ith M. J . C la rk e (19 9 6 ).
71 B ickel (19 2 6 : 16 —17 ) argues that the ciStuAot· h e re is in fact none other
than A eneas' 'b re a th -so u l', availab le to the god b ecau se A en eas has (p re­
sum ably) breathed it out in h is sw oon (v. 3 10 ) . It is hard not to ad m ire the
ingenuity o f this theory.
70 <i5os e vid en tly p ro vid es the first elem ent o f efSuAov (L J g r E s .v .; C hnn-
traine s.v .). O n δέμας see C h . 4, pp. 1 1 7 —18 .
*' Bickel (19 2 6 : i .8 -2 1 ) elab orately links the (ΓδωΛοι· in this dream w ith
concepts o f δαίμων, mysterium trementium, and b u rg eo n in g so u l-b e lie f.
117 It is difficu lt to tell w h y this dream u ses the m o tif o f the cfSujAov rather
than m aking A th en a h e rse lf ap p ear in d isg u ise in the w ay that she docs When
she visits N au sicaa (vi. 1 3 - 4 1 ) . T h e o n ly availab le com parison is w ith the
dream (11. 5 - 3 5 ) in w h ich Z eu s sends the personal D ream h im self, oéAos
"Olt φ os (tl. 6, 8), to A gam em n on in the Ruise o f N esto r. P erh aps it is because
Zeus m ust rem ain a lo o f from the other m ed d lin g god s o f the I lia d that he
sends an em issary rather than descen din g to A gam e m n o n 's b ed side him self.
But in the O dytsey passage there is no reason w hy A thena should not com e
herself, since the plot does not ob lige h e r to be in any p articu lar place on that
night. S . W est ad loc. su ggests that if A th en a had com e h e rse lf she w ould have
been unable to avo id g ivin g P enelope new s o f O d ysseu s, w hile the rfScu.W is
able to avoid 0 straigh t an sw er (iv. 8 3 6 -7 ).
198 Death and the A fterlife
battlefield and fights in his likeness, so the shade o f A ch illes can
stride across the m eadow s o f H ades w ith the h ero ’s ow n gait:
</it’ > 17 δ« ιτο δ ώ κ ίο ϊ Α ια κ ί& α ο
φ ο ίτ α μ α χ ρ α β ιβ ά α α κ α τ ' ά α φ ο δ ίλ ό ν λ α μ ώ ν α . (xi. 538—9)
T h e principle o f substitution has a further rem arkable con­
sequence: when the phantom dw eller in H ades speaks, he tends
to pin his own identity, his ‘ I ’ , on his physical body rather than
his current m anifestation as a shade. W hen the dead Elpenor
confronts O dysseus h e com es forward as a shade, ψ υ χ ή Έ λ π ή -
v o p o s (xi. 5 1) , and in telling the story o f E lp cn o r's own death
the first person sin gu lar and the m asculine gender arc used for
what he did when he w as alive:
Κ ίρ κ η ς δ ’ ck p c y a p u ii κ α τ α λ ί γ μ ΐ ίο ς ο ΰ κ {νό η σ α
άψ ορρον κ α τ α β ή ν α ι ίάιν i s κ λ ίμ α κ α μ α κ ρ ή ν ,
άλΛά κ α τ α ν τ ικ ρ ύ τ ί γ ( ο ς π όσ ον. ( x i . 6 2 —4)

H ere the ‘ Γ in the w raith ’s m outh attaches to his bodily

substance; so that by follow ing this thread, when he narrates
the actual death he speaks o f the wraith in the third person:
€Κ δ* μ ο ι α ν χ ή ν
α σ τ ρ α γ ά λ ω ν ( ά γ η , ψ υ χ ή S * Α ίλ ύ θ ό ( κ α τ ή λ θ (. (6 4 —5)

A gain, when he dem ands a funeral the 'I ' o f the speech is the
corpse, who m ust here be com pletely distinct from the wraith
which is speaking:
(vOa σ ' m i T a , ά ν α ζ, κόλ ομ α ι μνηαασΟ a* < μ (ίο,
μή ά κ λ α υ το ν άθατττον Ιω ν όττιΟιν κ α τ α λ τ ίπ α ν
νοσψ ισΟ (ίς. ( 7 1 —2 )

It is easy to see w h y this makes sense despite the apparent

paradox: the identity o f the shade.is not its own, but that o f the
undivided b odily m an whose appearance it represents. In due
course we will see that later in the N ekuia O dysseus’ mother
speaks o f ‘m y shade’ , ψ υ χ ή , in exactly the same way.

The shade’s movement names it as ψυχή

How do the concepts o f remnant and counterfeit exist in
harm ony? A th en a’s dream -phantom suggests an answer. Just
 The Corpse and the A fterlife 199

as elsew here the stu ff o f dream s is strcn gth lcss, άμ€νηνών . . .

ivelpwv (xix. 562), like the άμ(νηνά κάρηνα o f the dead, so h ere
the rtScuAoi' is airily feeble, αμαυρόν (iv. 824 = 8 3 s ) ,83 so that it
can slip into the bedroom through the slit p ro v id ed fo r the
bolt-strnp, παρά κληΐδος Ιμάντα (iv. 8 0 2 ),84 and after d e liv e rin g
its m essage it blow s aw ay into the w in d s:

<5 s t in o v σ τα Ο μ οίο π α ρ α κ λ η ιδ α λιάαΟ η

iS π ν ο ιά ς ai'fßiuiv. (iv. 838— 9)
Because it exists on ly in appearance it can van ish ipto thin air.
T h e dissipation o f this ΐίδουλον su ggests that the co m m o n
ground between rem nant and co u n terfeit is in the sh a d e ’s
characteristic m otion: it flits, it floats, it m oves alon g the air
without strength or substan ce. It is u n d er this asp ect that the
word ψυχή com es into its ow n: ju s t as in the m ortal w o rld this
word nam es the strcn gthless gasp w h o se loss w as death, so h ere
it names the insubstantial w isp that liv es out this sh a d o w y
sem blance o f a life. T h e shade flies like a dream o r a sh ad o w ,
σκιήι «óieAov ή καί óveipuji | ΐτττατο (xi. 2 0 7 —8), and the d ead are
shadows w ho flit about, οκιαϊ αισαουσιν (x. 4 9 5); sim ila rly
A n ticlcia's w raith m oves w ith a flutterin g m otion, άποπταμένη
πΐπότηται (xi. 222); the feeble shade o f A g am em n o n stretch es
out its hands in the sam e w ay, πιτνάς ety e/xc χεΐρας (xi. 39 2); the
wraith o f Patroclus m oves like sm oke, 1Jure καπνοί | tli^rro
(X X III. 1 00 i ). Su ch m ovem ent in d eterm in ately represen ts the

" In H om er the w o rd αμαυρός is fo u n d o n ly h e re , an d its m e a n in g is

uncertain, l i i e r e is no secu re e ty m o lo g y . T h e o th e r e a rlie st attestatio n is in
H esiod, w h e re law less oath b reakers are p u n ish e d in the se co n d g e n e ratio n
when their pro geny is ό/ιανροτϊμη ( I Ι Ό cH.j). T h e r e is also a H c s io d ic fra g m e n t
m w hich, ap p aren tly, the φυχ,', o f a dead snake is apaupajO iiaa w hen it d e sce n d s
into the earth (fr. 204. 14 0 - 2 M - W ; see E p ilo g u e , p p . 2 9 1 - 2 ) , an d S a p p h o
d eicribes a dead p erson as Hitting a b o u t in H a d e s a m o n g the dead . „r S *
fi·
200 Death ami the A fterlife
lack o f su b stan ce o f an em p ty im age, or the thin cnfceblenient
o f the m an w h o se substance has been w orn aw ay to nothing: as
such it su ggests how a sin gle b road conception can be born e out
alon g tw o such d ifferen t stran ds o f im agery.

The identity o f the shade is indeterminate

T h e th ree id en tities yield place to each other in consistent ways
in the co u rse o f A c h ille s’ en coun ter w ith P a tro c lu s’ ghost and
in m an y o f the in d ivid u al m eetin gs that m ake up the Nekuia.
T h e pattern is sim p le: the dead m an appears as a w aftin g φυχήι
then stan d s still and co n verses in the fu lly con vin cin g shape of
the m an w h o lived , and finally as it d rifts aw ay again its
em p tin ess is seen again. F o r exam p le, w hen P atro clu s' ghost
first ap p ears to A ch ille s we arc told that it is not the m an proper
but so m eth in g that resem b les him :
i^XOt S ’ i n ! φ ι ι γ ή Π ι ι τ ρ ο κ λ ή ο ς S t t X o in ,
π ή ΐ’τ ' n i ' T u i t μ ί γ ι θ ό ζ τ< κ α ί ΐϊμ μ α τα κ αλ €tVmq
κ ο ι ^ b in jr , κ ο ΐ το ία v t p i X p o i (ΐμ α τ α t a r o . (X X III. 6 5 - 7 )

P a tro c lu s h im se lf lies dead n earby and the im age m im ics his

shape, ‘ resem b lin g the rnnn h im self in everyth in g’ . But as the
scene p ro ceed s the distin ction becom es less clear, and the
w raith uses the first-p erson al pronoun both o f itself and of
the dead P a tro clu s p ro p er:
κ α ί μ α ι b o f t t j i ' χ ΐϊρ * , υ λο φ ίφ ο μ Oi* οι» y a p α υ τ ιζ
ν ίσ η μ α ι ί ξ /ΙΓΛηο, iir q v jie ΐτνρός λ ίΔ ά χ η τ * . ( 7 5 ~*J )

Logically the antecedent o f μοι and the subject o f νΐσαμαι is

P a tro clu s m an ifested as the ghost, but the antecedent o f μι is
P a tro clu s the corpse. A ch illes addresses the w raith as if it
w ere P atroclu s h im self, τβ<ί·η κίφαλή (94); and it is only when
he fails to em b race it and it disappears o ff to H ades that we
return to the im age o f the flitting and gib b erin g w raith.
φ ν χ η S i κ α τ ά χ Ο ο ι ι /j r jir c « a n ó f
ώ ι χ « τ ο T t r p t y v ia . (lO O -l)

In oth er w o rd s, it is w hen the w raith m oves that it is most

c le a rly identified as em pty and strcn gthless; b ut w hen we are
d raw n into the scene in w hich it talks and acts, the gap closes ,c
 The Corpse ami the A fterlife 201
over betw een the rea! P atroclu s and the w raith that m im ics his
appearance.
S im ila rly , from the first part o f the Neltuin we have already
seen that hosts o f the dead em erge as flitting φυχαΐbut are seen
as solid su b stan tial b ein gs w hen they stand still. E lpen or
presents a still clo ser p arallel with the Patroclus episode.
First the ghost com es fo rw ard , πρώτη 8è φυχη Έλττήνορος ήλθα’
iraipov (xi. 5 1 ) , and is e x p lic itly d istin gu ish ed from his corpse,
w hich O d ysseu s rem em b ers h avin g left u n b uried on Aeaea:
σώμα γάρ êv Κίρκης μεγάραη κατΐλΐίπομα· ήμ€Ϊς (xi.^ 53)· T h e
image then sh ifts to the m an him self,
τ ο ν p e v c y w δ ά κ ρ υ σ α !&ών ίλ έ η σ α re Ο νμ ώ ι,
κ α ί μ ii' φ ιο νη σ α ς e n t a n r e p ó a ’r a π ρ ο σ η ύ δ ω ν ,
" Έ λ π η ν ο ρ . π ώ ς ή λ θ ίς ύ π ο ζό φ ο ν ή ( ρ ό ίν τ α ;” ( x i. 5 5 “ 7 )

O dysseus describ es him , speaks to him , and is ad d ressed b y

him as one hum an b ein g to an other; but at the close o f the
scene it is again specified that this is an em p ty im age, eiSaiAou:
reu!' μ ί ν ώ ς i n i t a a i v ίιμ α β ο μ ίν < ο σ τ υ γ ίρ ο ισ ιν
τιμζΘ', ί γ ώ μ ί ν avcvO cv <φ* α ιμ α τ ι φ ό ο γ α ν ο ν Γα^ων,
tiftw X ov 8’ ( τ ίρ ω Ο ΐν ίτ α ίρ ο υ π ό λ λ 1a y ó p e v e v . (81—3)

In other w ords, w hen the w raith m oves fo rw ard its flitting

motion reveals its em ptin ess; as the scene d evelo p s its contours
settle down so that it is u n d istin gu ish ed from the livin g m an; as
the scene closes its em ptiness is revealed again.
T h e structural parallel betw een these scenes and the v isit o f
Patroclus’ w raith to A ch ille s lies in the fact that in both cases
the dead m ust em erge from H ad es to con fron t the livin g m an.
At this stage o f the N ek u ia O d ysseu s is outside H ades and close
by its entrance, χριμφθΐίς πίλας (x. 5 1 6 ) and surrou n d ed by the
gloom o f the d eath -w o rld : when he sum m o n s the dead out o f
its darkness, ΰπίξ Ipißtvs (xi. 37), they cith er flit out from the
doors or rise up, perhaps via the trench itself, from the w orld
below the soil. (N e ith er here nor at the correspo n d in g point in
C irce’ s instructions (x. 5 2 6 -9 ) is this m ade fu lly clear: ίρφας
means sim p ly d ark n ess,85 and perhaps the narrative reads
*! D esp ite th e con ve n tio n al cap ital le tte r o f the p rin ted texts, there is good
evidence fo r takin g ίρ<βος n ot as a p ro p e r nam e but as an o rd in a ry w o rd fo r
darkness in gen eral and the d ark n ess o f death in p articu lar. W hen C irce
202 Death and the A fterlife
vaguely because little but darkness is visib le to the hero
him self.) Ju st as P atroclus’ w raith m oved betw een the mortal
world and H ades w ith the d riftin g m ovem ent o f sm oke, ήύτς
καπνάς I ώ«χιτο (x x ill. ιο ο - ι) , so the w raiths o f this scene are
flitting out to meet O dysseus and d riftin g back w hen at the end
o f each interview . H ence it is natural that they show the same
progression, w ith the initial im age o f the flitting ψυχή giving
w ay to the concrete im age of the dead man proper in the course
o f the encounter, only to be replaced by the ψυχή as the
interview ends and the dead one w ithdraw s. T h e tendency is
that when the shade is im agined in sharp detail it takes on a
m ore concrete identity and is no longer distinguished from the
dead man whose form a ψυχή or eiStoAoi· represents.
T h e fullest com m entary on this shifting identity is in
O d ysseu s’ m eeting with the shade o f his m other. W hen he
tries to em brace her but finds that there is nothing to touch, the
shade flits aw ay from him:
τ ρ ις μ ί ν ίφ ιν ρ μ ή θ η ν , «Aren' τ< μ * θυμ ός artuyet,
τ ρ ις δ ί μ ο ι ί κ χ ς ιρ ΰ ιν σ κιι)ι τ ικ ίλ ο ν η κ α ι o r fip m
ίπ τ α τ '· ς μ ο ι ά χ ο ς ό£ο y c iΊ ο κ τ τ ο κ η ρ ό θ ι μ ά λ λ ο ν, ( χ ι. 2 θ 6 —S)

In his g rie f and confusion he asks w hy she she docs not stay
still, T« vu μ ’ ού μίμνας; (a io ), and he wonders if Penelope has
sent a false phantom instead o f his m other:86
describes S c y lla 's cave ns v p it ζόφον t!s ίρ ιβ ος τιτραμμςνον (xii. 8 ι ) she seems
on ly to m ean that it is directed at darkness and gloom , not that it is on
entrance to H ades. N o one place called E reb u s is part o f the layout of the
landscape o f I lades and environs visible to O dysseu s in the N ekuia, and
throughout H om er iptßot seem s to be equivalent to ζόφος as the place of
darkness to w hich the dead descend w hen they go to H ades (see v u t. 368,
IX. 5 7 1 —2, XV I. 3 2 6 - 7 ; XX. 356 ). N ote also the cognate adjective tptßcwöt. as on
epithet o f the night o f the w orld (v m . 488, etc.), the night that falls on the eyes
w hen one loses con sciousn ess (v. 659, etc.), and fog, άήρ fv . 864).
84 T h e w o rd s ή r l μοι ti&ioXσ>· tóS ' . . . are hard to construe, but the sense
seem s to be that fo r the first tim e O dysseus is addressing the possibility that
this is not his m other at all but a spectre: 'M o th e r, w h y do you not wait . . . ?
A n d indeed (9) [if you arc not m y m other after all] w hy has Persephone sent
this spectre to m e . . .?* T h is is m ore effective than the altern ative, 'M other,
w h y d o you not w ait . . .? W hy else has Persephone sent this [\o u r] spectre to
m e, [ if it is only) in o rd er to grieve m e m ore?' In support o f the former
in terpretation, com pare other exam ples o f -η in troducing a question suggesting
an altern ative p o ssib ility, e.g. iii. 2 5 1 , x. 284, xi. 160.
 203
The Corpse and the A fterlife
ή τ ι /101 «15ι*ιΑο>> τ ο δ ' d yav r) Π ιρ ο ίφ ό ν ο ,α .
ό τ ρ υ ν ’, ϋ φ ρ ' t r i μ ά λ λ ο ν ύ δ υ ρ ό μ ς ν ο ς α τ ι ν α χ ί ζ ω ; ( 2 I 3_ I 4 )

A nticlcia reassures him by exp lain in g the truth about w h at

confronts him in H ad es:
ou τ ι <« Π ιρ ο ίφ ό ν α α , Δ ιά ς Ο υ γά τη ρ , α π α φ ιο κ ίΐ,
ά λ λ ' α ϋ τ η δ ίκ η t a r i β ρ ο χ ώ ν , ό τ ( τ ί ς K t θ ά ν ψ σ ιν -
V ο ύ γ ά ρ t r i σ ά ρ κ α ς τ ( κ α ί ό α τ ία ιν ς ς ίχ ο υ α ιν ,
tiAAfl τά μ ί ν r t π υ ρ ά ς κρατιρον μ ίν α ς α ΐθ ο μ ίν ο ιο
fj
δ α μ ν ά ι, i n t l K t π ρ ώ τ α λ ίπ τ μ λ < ΰ κ ' ό α τ ία θ υ μ ό ς ,
«■»
>>■ φ υ χ ή h ’ ή ύ τ ' ö vttpo s ά π ο π τ α μ ίν η π ΐ π ό τ η τ α ι. s ( 2 l J - 2 2 )
ν' T h is speech is difficult and rep ays exam in ation . In the p ast it
3
has been taken as a doctrinal su m m ary w h ich ‘ neatly su m m a r­
& izes the main points o f H o m eric b e lie f co n cern in g the φυχη .
On this reading A n ticleia says that after death tw o th in gs
happen: on the one hand {μίν) the b o d y is d isso lved by the
fire o f crem ation and on the other hand (5e) the φυχη flies a w ay
i l '.
I■ to Hades. H ere is w hat I take to be the assum ed tran slatio n :
P e r s e p h o n e , Zeus’ d a u g h t e r , is n o t d e c e i v i n g y o u : r a t h e r , t h i s [ i . e . t h e
fo l l o w i n g ] is t h e w a y o f m o r t a l s w h e n somebody d i e s : t h e s i n e w s n o
lo n g e r h o l d fle s h a n d b o n e s t o g e t h e r , b u t t h e d o m i n a t i n g f o r c e of
b la z in g fire o v e r c o m e s t h e m , a s s o o n a s t h e θ υ μ ό ς l e a v e s t h e w h i t e
b o n e s; b u t t h e φ υ χ ή , s l i p p i n g a w a y li k e a d r e a m , f l o a t s a w a y [ t o
Hades].
! I'.
If this w ere right it w ould fly in the face o f m uch o f the
argument in this book. F irst, crem ation w o u ld be em ph asized
'-V
in a w holly uncharacteristic w ay : elsew h ere in H o m er the
- I· burning o f the body is relevan t o n ly as the p ivo tal m om en t o f
the γίρας Οανόντιον, the social ackn o w led gem en t o f the dead
man’s status, and w here the φυχή is said to escape from the
dying m an it docs so as his last breath. S e c o n d ly , an u n p a r­
alleled distinction w ould be set up betw een loss o f θυμός and o f
φυχή, with the θυμός leavin g the bones and the φυχή g o in g to
Hades. W e have show n that at the m om en t o f death θυμός is not
sharply distinguished from φυχή, the tw o n am es b ein g ap p lied
to the loss of the last breath un d er d ifferen t aspects: if so , a
sudden contrast between the tw o w o u ld not m ake sense. B o th
m
H eubcck at xi. 2 1 7 - 2 2 . F o r the sam e v ie w see m o st re c en tly S o u r v in o u -
Inwood (19 9 5 ), 59.
204 Death and the A fterlije
these ob jectio n s depend on controversial argum ents advanced
earlier in this book, and if \vc depended on them alone we
w o u ld be b eg g in g our own questions. T h e decisive pointer to
an accurate reading o f the lines is in two gram m atical points,
the force o f yap (21Q) and m ore im portantly the perfect Jr.
■ π ε π ό τ η τ α ι (222). I f A n ticleia is expounding a sequence of
m ortn ls’ death, crem ation, and jo u rn ey to H ades, the switch ,v*
from presen t to perfect can only he explained as a very loose '4S
u se o f lan guage b y H o m er;88 but if we assign a perfect m e a n in g
to τ τ ε τ τ ά τ η τ α ι the speech takes on a very' different aspect as a 'JU
sim p le and d irect answ er to O dysseus’ questions, ‘ W hy do you Vlf
not stay still to receive m y em brace?' and ‘ Is this a false ~v>
sp ectre?' L e t me offer a revised translation:
P e r s e p h o n e , Z e u s ’ d a u g h t e r is n o t d e c e iv in g y o u : ra th e r , th is [i.e.
w h a t y o u h a v e fo u n d b y t r y in g to e m b r a c e m e ] is th e w a y o f m o rta ls r?v
w h e n s o m e b o d y d ie s , sin ce ( γ ά ρ ) th e sin ew s no lo n g e r h o ld fle sh a n d ’ft
b o n es to g e th e r , b u t th e s tro n g f o r c e o f b la z in g f i r e o verc o m es th em as soon
a s th e b r e a th le a v e s th e w h it e bones— th e w r a it h , s lip p i n g a w a y lik e a
d r e a m , is in a s t a t e o f flo a tin g [ a w a y fr o m y o u ).

T h e burd en o f the whole is in the last w ords: strcngthlessness

is the state o f the dead in Hades, so the ghost in front o f him
has been unable to m ake contact with his em brace. Anticleia
speaks in the third person about her own shade, ju st as Elpenor
did in the earlier passage (xi. 65); and she uses the perfect
because she is describing the phantom 's continued empty
d riftin g m ovem ent when O dysseus confronts it after it has
slipp ed aw ay from his grasp, cV χαρών ακπμ córeAoi· rj καί
ό ν α 'ρ ια ι I ΐ τ τ τ α τ ο (xi. 2 0 7 - 8 ) . T h e y a p shows that the sequence
o f ideas is digressive, in 'spiral com position’ ,8<> m oving away
from the m ain point about the em ptiness o f the wraith and

"* T h e H o m e ric perfect is a strictly m arked form o f the ve rb indicating a

resultant state (sec R u ijg h ( 1 9 7 1 ) , § 2 1 5 . 2 17 ) , so «hot in the present passage
the sequence to rt, o n . . . Οάνηιοιν, δαμνά*. i n t i κ ι Afiuji, ιτι-ηότητηι w ould not
m ake gram m atical sense as n single sequence o f events. (T h e use o f a perfect
fo rm in place o f an norist, n otab ly β ιβ ι}κ η fo r iß η, is a rare irregu larity which
d oes not reflect on the sem antics o f the perfect in general.) On the H om eric
sem an tics o f the perfect m id dle see W ackernagcl (19 2 6 ), 1 6 6 - 7 1 ; Sihlcr
( • 99S)i § 5*9· A lso helpfu l is the acute treatm ent o f D u ltou x (19 9 2 : 4 0 6 -14 )
on the eq u ivalen t issues in the C lassical language.
*v S ee T h nlm on n (19 8 4 ), csp. ch. 1.
 The Corpse and the A fterlife 205

returning to it at the end. F a r fro m exp o u n d in g n d octrin e o f

death, crem ation, and jo u rn e y to H ad es, A n ticleia is reassu rin g
O dysseus that this is not a sp ectre sent to m ock him hut an
exam ple o f the sh ad o w y feeblen ess o f all the sh ad es.00 It is
because o f this explan ation that O d ysseu s un derstands w h at is
happening a little later w hen the shade o f A gam em n on
stretches out its floating han ds, ττιτνάς <«’? ίμ ί χΑρας,0' but
cannot touch him b ecause it lacks the sin ew y stren gth , i' s and
KiKvs, that A gam em n on had in life.
j
The shade is an image o f the undivided bodily man
T h is interaction o f the three aspects o f the su rv iv o r in H ades
shows that w hether he is a corpse or an im age or a feeble
remnant, his shape and id entity are those o f the b odily man
who was sent dow n to the earth at death. T h is b rin gs us back to
the subtleties o f the w o rd φυχη. W hen w e studied H o m eric
death we saw that this nam e w as given to the last b reath o f the
dying man, w hich is lost and dissipated in the air; and we
observed the special situations in w hich that b reath takes w in g
and flies aw ay into the unseen and to H ades. It w ill now be
clear that the d yin g b reath under that nam e should not sim p ly
be identified w ith the w raith in H ad es: what unites the two is
their flitting stren gth less m otion and nothing else, and the
shade and the last b reath relate to the substan ce o f the dead
man in distinct and unconnected w ays. W hen the last b reath is
** S ap p h o uses a co m p o u n d fo rm o f th is v e r b in a v e ry sim ilar sen se w hen
she tells a w om an that after death she w ill lin ger in H ad e s, fo rgotten b y the
living: aA,Vai£a»sjy •fdk* Jl,'5ai ύόμωι | ^oiroerjit ττ<δ* άμαύμων v t K v u t v ί κ - π ι π υ τ α μ ΐ ν α
(fr. s s . 3 - 4 L - P ) . T h e con text m akes it c le ar that the w om an h e rs e lf is the
subject o f the sen ten ce, so that the p articip le refers not to the d ep artu re o f her
Ί "X1) at death b u t to her m o ve m e n t as a shade itiiririg the a fte rlife . T h u s
Sappho is d ep ictin g the sh ad e as an e n feeb led versio n o f the b o d ily b ein g,
lim ing back and forth strcn g th le ssly— w hen com pared w ith the N c k u ia , this
articulation is m id w ay h etw een H o m e r’ s d ep ictio n s o f the sh ad es o f A n ticleia
and A gam em n on . (P a g e ’ s ren d erin g o f /«cTTororarura os ’ llow n from o u r m id st’
{19 5 6 : 13 7 ) is an o v er-tran slatio n ju stifie d n eith er b y the con text n or b y the
H om eric exe m p lar.)
” It is n o tew o rth y that the v e rb s ren d erin g the m ovem ent o f the shade—
«irrnro (xi. 20S), άποττταμ«ι·η πι-πότηται (x i. 2 2 2 ), n im ir (xi. 392) all em b od y
Rrades o f the sam e root · ρ ε ΐ - . A s so o fte n , it is im p ossib le to tell w h ether this
link is sem an tically sign ifican t.
2o 6 Death and the Afterlife
lost by the d yin g m an, his identity rem ains in the substance of
the corpse: thus when Patroclus or H ector dies, the flying ψυχή
leaves behind manhood and youth, άνδροτ^τα και ήβην
(χνι. 857 = X X II. 36 3),VJ and the ψυχαί o f the proem to the
Iliad arc separated from the men them selves, avrot'(1. 6). But in
the afterlife the shade as ψυχή relates to the dead man in a very
different w ay, since the word refers to the w afting strcngthlcss
m ovem ent o f a rem nant or im age in the im agined landscape of
H ades. S in ce it is not a constituent part o f the livin g man or of
the m an w ho died, it makes nonsense to w ork through the
fam iliar categories o f our ow n culture and picture the wraith as
the spirit o f m an rather than his body: here as elsewhere
H om er forbids us to invoke that dichotom y and forces us to
understand the w raith in term s o f the undivided thinking and
bo d ily whole o f the dead m an.
T h is is w ell illustrated by H om er’s rendering o f the idea that
the shades arc intellectually weak and witless. T h e matter is
elusive and disappears in the course o f the N ekuia (see above,
p. 19 3 ), but it has been mentioned beforehand by C irce in
exp lain in g that T iresias is the only one o f the dead whose wits
rem ain to him :
. . . μάιτιος άλαού, τού τ< ά ρ ϊ κ ς ίμ τ τ ί& ο ΐ e i a ι·
τώΐ καί τίΟνηώτι ι·άον τόρ< Πτροιφόνιια
οΐιυι itcnvvoOai· τοί Sc σκιαί άΐααονσιι·. (χ . 4 9 3 “ 5 )
T ire sia s’ ab ility to breathe in his thought, νόον . . . ncm-üaOai
(see C h . 4, pp. 84-6), ju st as a living man m ight do, is
contrasted with the fact that the other wraiths lack substance
and flit about as shadow s. T h e fact that this opposition makes
sense is enough to show that the w raiths’ mental feebleness is
bound up with the feebleness o f their bodily m ovem ent.
T h e opposite side o f the sam e coin turns up when Achilles is
visited by the ghost o f Patroclus. H ere he reaches out to touch
his friend and finds that the wraith is em pty nothingness: but
when he awakes and describes the experience he says that the9 1
91 It is hard to decide w h ether this refers to their id en tity as m en or to their
m an ly v ita lity . T h e latter m ay be better, as ά ι& ρ ο τ ή τ α κ α ί ή β η ν w ill then make
u p a sin gle con cep t, as is usual w ith such pairs o f nouns. In its other
attestation, ό ν& ρ ο τή ς acts in the sam e w ay as part o f a dou blet: Π α τ ρ ό κ λ ο υ . . .
ά ν δ ρ ο τ ή τ ά τ< κ α ί p iv o t Ί <
5(x x iv . ti). S e e also C h . 5 n. 39 . and ab ove, p. 158 .
 The Corpse and the Afterlife 207

wraith lacks the organs o f the mental apparatus, <f>pcvcs ούκ tvi
ττάμπαν (x x ill. 104). T h is cannot sim p ly mean that it w as
without w its and intelligence, since what it told him w as fu lly
cogent; rather, A ch illes m ust mean that the w raith lacked the
concrete substance that a livin g and thinking m an carries in his
breast, since only this will explain w h at happened w hen he
tried to em brace his friend (see also above, C h. 4, pp. 74—5 w ith
n. 30). But his use o f the w ord <frptvcs suggests that the
vocabulary o f physical w eakness and m ental w eakness are
bound up together, so that the one is expressed ip w ords that
would be equally appropriate to the other. 'Fak in g these two
passages together, it em erges that the feebleness o f the dead is
indeterm inately physical and m ental, and applies by the sam e
token to thought and bodily life. In so far as the inhabitant o f
Hades is no longer identified d irectly w ith the bo d ily sub stan ce
o f the dead m an, he is a vestige or im age o f the flesh and blood
who went down into the w orld beyond the grave; and in this
sense, he continues in the afterlife to take both his appearan ce
and his identity from the in d issolub le b odily w hole w hich he
was in life. In every stage o f this m ovem ent betw een d ifferen t
states o f life and different poetic en vironm ents, H o m eric m an
preserves the unity o f w hat o u r m odern languages en courage us
to divide into body and soul.

These articulations are irreconcilable: the question is a problem

C orpse, ίΓ5ωΛομ, ψυχή: is it possible to fit these three id entities
into a single sim ple conception o f the afterlife? O ne avenue o f
escape w ould be to take H o m e r's H ades as an artificial
am algam made up by com b inin g form u lae fram ed in d ifferen t
periods under different conceptions o f life after death, in m uch
the same w ay that (for exam ple) the nam es o f w eapons or the
description o f manoeuvres in battle m ight be show n to be culled
from different epochs o f w arfare and p erh ap s not fu lly u n d er­
stood by the poet.91 In particu lar, the pattern that we have
observed in the m eetings o f the N ek u ia and the episo d e o f
Patroclus ghost can be exp lain ed aw ay in term s o f the 1

1 A n approach o f th is kind is taken in the c a re fu lly co n stru cted s tu d y o f

H om eric death b y C h ristian e S o u r v in o u -In w ood (see C h . x n. 64).
210 Death and the Afterlife
shades o f the dead actually are.v* T h e episode confronts him for
the first time with the nature o f survival in the afterlife. That
m eaning is difficult, obscure, almost inexpressible: from which
it follows a fortiori that the particular definition o f the shade
w hich is revealed to him there should not be be assumed in
advance w henever H om er’s characters— or, b y the same token,
the poet him self— talk o f the world beyond the grave.
Sim ilarly, when A nticlcia explains the nature o f the shade to
O dysseus she speaks as if she were revealing som ething new,
som ething which O dysseus had not known or had not under­
stood. T h e nearest verbal parallel to the introductory part of
that passage (xi. 2 1 7 - 1 9 ) is in Odyssey xix, w here the unseen
Athena holds a lam p over O dysseus and T elem achu s, and the
son is am azed to find that the hall has become preternaturally
bright. H e suspects that som e god m ust be present, but his
father silences him :

Viγ α κ α ι κ ατα οο ν νοον ιοχαΐ'€ μ η δ c p « i v r

αΰτ-η τ ο ι ύ ΐκ η ί α τ ι 0(ΰ>ι·, o f Ό λνμ ττο ν ιχ ο ν ο ιν . ( x ix . 4 2 —3)

T h e δ ί κ η Otuiv here is som ething strange and hidden which the

striplin g does not understand . 9 A n ticleia’s δ ί κ η β ρ ο τ ώ ν , it
•seems, is still m ore esoteric: she is revealing som ething which
'P h is lias been noticed b efore, but with different priorities in m ind: first
b y W ilnm ow itz ( 1 9 3 1 ) , 3 7 1 . C lau s ( 19 8 t : 98) rem arks on A ch illes' speech after
his dream that ‘ W hat is rem arkable about these lines is not that they explain
the p articu lar nature o f the shade but that they show a need to explain and
define’ . D o d d s ( 1 9 5 1 ) secs both passages in term s o f grow ing H ellenic
rationalism , and takes them ns a novel doctrine relayed b y the epic poets,
d istin gu ish in g the stren gth lcss eschatological su rvivo r from the corpse and
thus co u n terin g the prim itive fe ar o f the dead: 'T o have form ulated tha:
distin ction w ith precision and clarity and to have disentangled the ghost from
the corpse is, o f co u rse, the achievem ent o f the H om eric poets. T h e re are
pussages in the poem s [sc. x x ill. 1 0 3 - 7 ; x i. 2 16 - 2 4 ] w hich suggest that they
w ere p ro u d o f die achievem ent and fu lly conscious o f its novelty and
im portance. T h e y hod, indeed, a righ t to be p ro u d : for there is no dom ain
w h ere cle ar thin kin g encou nters stron ger resistance than w hen vse think about
death ' ( 1 3 6 - 7 ) .
99 O f cou rse this poin t should not be pressed too far. δόο? w ith the genitive
is used several tim es o f cu stom s a/id usages w hich are not at all m ysterious, the
norm al b eh av io u r o f a particular social group (iv. 6 9 1, x iv . 5 9 -6 0 , xv iii. 275).
H o w ev e r, it is on ly in the two passages quoted here that one character explains
such a thin g to an oth er w ho is ignorant o f it.
 The Corpse and the Afterlife 21 I

even π ο λ ν μ η τ ι ς O S v a a t v s has been unable to grasp: and she tells

him to explain it to his wife:
άλΛά tf>óajo8t τ ά χ ισ τ α λ ιλ α ίιο · τ α ΰ τ α 81 ττάι'τα
Ιο θ \ ΐνα κ α ι μ τ τ ό σ ια Ο ί Ttrji ΐίπτμοΟ α γ υ ν α ικ ί. (xi. 223-4)
Som ething novel and esoteric has been revealed, som ething
which will advance O d ysseus’ understanding o f death beyon d
what ordinary m ortals k n o w .100

Patterns of the relation between shade and corpse

T h is sense o f darkness and confusion provid es the cornerstone
of our final interpretation. T h e su rv iv o r o f death is in som e
sense a corpse and in som e sense a flitting w raith , but the
relation between those articulations is not clearly determ ined.
T he indeterm inacy is part and parcel o f the am b ig u ity that
surrounds the nature o f death itself: w hat lies beyon d the
darkness is in som e sense the grave and in som e sense the
house o f H ades, and narrative and im age-m aking about death
norm ally proceed as if the two w ere collapsed into each other.
T h is m arriage is expressed m ost fu lly in A c h ille s’ in terview
with the ghost o f Patroclus. Before the dream A ch illes has
embraced the dead Patroclus in the form o f the corp se, b ut has
addressed him as if he is already in H ades (x x ill. 17 —19 ), and
the wraith is able to appear although the m an h im self, the αυτοί
whom it resem bles, is lying dead near b y — so that after its
disappearance A ch illes and his com panions spen d the n ight
gathered around the dead Patroclus him self, άμφι véxvv èXeeivóv
(XXUi. 1 1 0). W hen the w raith instructs A ch illes to carry out the
funeral the two m anifestations o f the dead m an m erge into each
other:
O a n T f μ ΐ ό τ τ ι τ ά χ ισ τ α , ττύAas Ά ΐδ α ο ττΐρ-ησω, (Χ Χ ΙΙΙ. η ΐ)

T h e two half-lin e m em bra ju xtap o se two ren d erin gs o f a single

event: in the-world o f m ortals he w ill be given his b u rial, so that
by the same token he w ill pass into the m yth o lo gical H ad es,
IUU "ή'-τα here m ust refer sp ecifically to the n atu re o f th e w ra ith , as it is the
only thing*she has told h im w h ich P en elop e w o u ld not a lre a d y kn o w . L in e s
* '· 2 2 3—4 arc used b y P age ( 19 5 5 : 46—7) in su p p o rt o f his th e o ry that in die
original O ilyssey the N e k u ia w as a sto ry told b y O d y sse u s to P en elop e.
2 12 Dentil mid the A fterlife
τη'·,\as sluiao Trip^ou»."’ ' T h e logic o f the commune! im plies th
the en try o f the corp se into the earth ami the en try o f the dead
m an into H ailes arc tw o parallel w ays o f looking at the snrne
process o f going dow n into the earth and staying in the nether
w o rld . B y receivin g his funeral Patroclus w ill he able to e n te r
H ailes p ro per: in other w o rd s he will he d ecisively separated
from the society o f the livin g and integrated into that o f the
dead. T h e correspon den ce becom es m ore subtle when the
w raith says that the other shades o f the dead are refusing to
let h im jo in them b ecause he has not been duly honoured with
the y t p a s θανόιηηιν:

p< fïp y a iia ι ψ υ χ α ί, t Γΰωλα κ α μ ό ν τ ιυ ν ,

oi'S t μ i ττω μ ίο γ (α Ο α ι νττίρ ττοτα μ οϊο ( ώ α ιν ,
ά λ λ ' avTcus ά λ ά λ η μ α ι άι/' ιν ρ υ π υ λ ίς .” 1ι ό ας ύ ώ . (X X III. 7 2 -4 )

H e has not been p ro p erly com m itted to the earth in his bodily
fo rm , so he cannot integrate am ong the shades o f the dead: in
oth er w o rd s, his p lig h t on the plane o f the mythological
U n d e rw o rld is the reflex o f w hat has happened, or failed to
hap pen , in the w o rld visib le to the livin g. T h e topographical
details h ere are precise: he is now w an derin g along by the
broad en trance, dv’ eapim-uAc? ilïSos δώ ;ιηϊ in burial he will pass
through the doors o f the tom b and the gates o f H ades, and after
d o in g so he w ill cross the river into the heart o f H ades and -stay
th e re .103 T h e re is a direct correspondence between what will
hap pen on the two planes, and the distinction betw een them is
not betw een events but betw een avenues o f expression, the

lnl F o r the im age c f. esp. v . 646, w h ere the h ero boasts that his foe will be
k ille d , Cm’ <μοί δμ ηθίντα 711’λας Mtöne Titpi) at ιι·.
" ’t In h is note on th is lin e, R ich ard so n m entions an 'ap p aren t inconsist­
e n c y ’ b etw e e n this line and XXIIl. 7 1 , w h e re P atroclu s im plies that he has not
y e t p assed th ro u gh the Kates. T h e re is no in con sisten cy if w e take did with
accu sa tiv e as re fe rrin g to m otion along the edge o f I lades: the w raith w ill then
b e h o v e rin g u p and d ow n the en tran ce b y broad gates, de’ tip u m A it . . . δώ.
T h is sen se o f did is p aralleled (for exam ple) in the R p ip n lesis, when
A g a m e m n o n strid es up and d ow n b y the line o f w a rrio rs, did ούλαμ&ν
άνδρών ( ιν . 2 5 1 ) . , ,
" " It seem s that these details o f Rates and riv e rs arc fixed in H om er’ s
trad itio n al d e ath -lo re , and they corresp on d c lo se ly cnniiRh to the more
detailed layou t set fo rth in the O ilyssey (see esp. x . 5 0 8 - 15 ; the N eltuia itself
is less clear) and in H e sio d 's Tlirngnny (sec esp. 7 3 Λ -4 5 , 8 0 7 - 10 ) .
 The Corpse and the A fterlife 213
mythical and the n o n -m yth ical, w hich the are set alongside
each other in the scene o f a w ra ith ’s visit to the w o rld o f the
living. In term s o f the e v eryd ay w o rld o f visib le exp erien ce,
Patroclus is the co rp se that is to be b u ried ; in term s o f the
unseen m ythological w orld , he b elongs beyond the darkness in
Hades. In this way , the logic o f P a tro clu s’ situation and his
pleas illustrates that what lies beyond death is simultaneously
the grave and the m ythical H ad es. T h e se twin patterns o f
language and im agery take sh ap e in the ren d erin g o f a single
process o f burial and en try into the afterlife throughout w hich
the T o f the dead man is tied to the su b stan ce o f his body.
A lthough here a single n arrative m anages to ju xtap o se the
two articulations o f the jo u rn e y , it is clear that a g u lf still yaw ns
herween them . In p articu lar, as w e have seen, there is no single
or satisfactory explan ation o f how the dead man as a corpse
relates to the dead m an as a w raith o r im age. T h a t p rob lem is
posed but not an sw ered by the few im ages w hich p o rtray the
dead m an already reduced to a shade w hen he m akes the
journey o f death: for exam p le w hen 'rh e o c ly m e n u s w ith a
prophet’ s foresight sees the ph an tom s o f the doom ed su ito rs
descending into the darkness:
5 « teat a v Atj,
(iQ tU X ojv S i n X i o v τ τ ρ ά θ υ ρ ο ν . 7r ,\ c ii 7
Upiviuv iptßoaoc ύττο ζόφον, (xx. 355“ ^)
He sees the b odily suitors alread y tran slated to the false im ages
that w ill represent th eir b o d ily shape in the hereafter. T h e
sudden m ythical vision fits the heigh tened perception granted
to seers: but he says nothing to explain how the one m an ifesta­
tion o f their id entity w ill translate into the other, and the tw o
patterns o f sto ry-te llin g and im age-m ak in g rem ain distin ct and
unreconciled. T h e re is the sam e violent ju xtap o sitio n in the
post-H om eric Secon d N ek u ia, w h ere the scene in O d y sse u s’
hall ab ruptly sw itch es to the unseen jo u rn e y o f the su ito rs’
wraiths dow n to H ad es, gu id ed by H erm es and squeakin g like
bats:
Ε ρ μ ή ς S i ψ υ χα ς K o λ λ ή ν ιο ς ( ξ ι κ α λ ί ϊ τ ο
δ< ρ ά β δ ο ν μ { τ ά χ τ ρ σ ί
t\ib fuiη· μ ν η σ τ ή ρ ω ν · i \ t
• rijt τ' ά ν δ ρ Λ ν ΰ μ μ α τ α θ ΐ λ γ ί ΐ
κ α λ ή ν χ ρ υ ϋ ΐίη ν ,
ω ν i O i \ t i , rows δ* avre κ α ί ν π ν ά ιο ν τ α ί iy e lp c r
rVji ρ ' α γ ( xinjoas, ταί S i τ ρ ίζ ο υ α α ι ίπ ο ν τ ο . (χχίν. 1—5)
214 Death ami the Afterlife
W hoever shaped this passage, it poses the problem o f afterlife
beliefs in the m ost vivid possible w ay. H erm es as divine guide
translates the suitors and the narrative itself into the unseen
world o f m yth, but without explaining how their identity in
that w orld relates to their identity in the world in which they
had lived and died.
H ere lies the creative im portance o f the im age o f the flying
ψυχή articulated in the deaths o f Patroclus and H ector. T h e
pivot on which the image turns is the word ψυχή itself. In very
different senses, ψυχή is the vox propria both for the wraith in
the H ades and for the last gasp o f the dying m an; by identifying
the ψυχή sim ultaneously as both, these lines purport to explain
how the dead m an o f ilcsh and blood crosses the g u lf to become
a w raith in the H ades o f m yth. In this way, the flying ψυχή
becom es a vehicle for co-ordinating two departm ents o f the
H om eric w orld -view . Dy separating the dead man into two
things, a lifeless corpse and an imm ortal wraith, these images
bring to birth a schem e o f human identity which seem s (with
hindsight) to be little less than a dichotom y o f body and soul. If
our overall analysis o f the language and lore o f death has been
correct, then this concept is anything but typical, and it must
be seen as a product rather than a corner-stone of the Homeric
view o f m an. H ere lies our final difficulty. I f the flight o f the
ψυχή docs not constitute H om eric b elief qua belief, it is never­
theless deeply serious and cannot be called poetic fantasy.
H ow , then, arc w e to make sense o f it, and how are we to
incorporate it into our overall analysis o f the H om eric view of
man? T h a t question cannot be answered by sweeping state­
ments about 'the prim itive m ind’ or 'parataxis' or ‘polyvalency’
or 'tolerance o f contradiction’ or ‘ asyndetic m ultiplicity’ All
these are m erely labels for our own inability to fully understand
the H om eric realities in terms o f their own structure and their
own logic. I f we arc right in identifying several different
H om eric answ ers to the question ‘ What happens to a man st
death?’ , and if we arc right in privileging the sim ple one which

104 T h is line o f argum ent goes back to the speculations o f L ê v y -B ru h l (see

P erry (19 3 7 ); N o top ou los (19 4 9 )) and continues to rear its head in classical
scholarship: see esp ecially the m easured d iscussion o f C . J . Howe (19 8 3). The
phrase "asyndetic m u ltip licity’ I ow e to H . J . V ersnel (paper as yet unpub­
lished).
 The Corpse and the A fterlife: A ppen dix 215
sends the corpse to Hades over the complex one which
translates the dying breath into the wraith in the afterlife,
then we ought to be able to show that this multiplicity is
structured in a meaningful way. In other words, we must show
that it constitutes a system which is ordered and not chaotic.
To do this we will take a backward step and observe other
systems of mythical image-making which inform Hom er s
rendering of death.

APPENDIX

I. The unity of the Nchuia

The Nckuia succumbs readily to interpretations in the Analyst
tradition, based on the belief that Book xi as we have it represents
an Homeric original which has been added to and meddled with so as
to form an artificial and confused whole. If that is the case the non­
Homeric part of the book ought to be left out of account in a study of
the present kind. In this chapter I have treated the Nekuia as an
integrated unity, and this must now be defended.
Analyst dissection of the Nekuia has been justified in three ways.
The successive episodes seem awkwardly joined and can easily be cut
up into separate units. Although this carries little weight on its own, it
chimes with two deeper problems. First, in the course o f Odysseus’
account there is a change of perspective: at the beginning he seems to
be standing outside the gates of Hades and calling up the shades from
within, but later on he is moving around inside in the landscape where
they live out the afterlife. Since we begin with an account of
conjuration of spirits (nekuomanteion) but end up with a journey
through the Underworld (katabasis) it easy to attribute the first part
to Homer and the second to someone else. Secondly, there is a major
inconsistency as to the nature of the afterlife. Circe has told Odysseus
that I iresias is the only one o f the dead whose power o f thought
remains intact (x. 493-5), and the shades o f Anticleia and Agam em ­
non are unable to speak to him or even recognize him until they have
drunk the blood which he has offered in the sacrifice at the beginning
of the nekuomanteion (see Tiresias at xi. 146-9, with 15 3 -4 , 39°); but
from what Homer tells us it seems that Elpenor and the dead of the
later episodes do not need to drink the blood before they can think
and talk as living men would do.
Once the Nckuia is resolved into nekuomanteion and katabasis it is
2i6 Death and the A JtcrliJe
easy to posit a separate origin for each o f the two parts. Odysseus' tour
o f Hades can be explained as modelled on the hatabasis of Heracles
which is referred to several times in the Iliad (vin. 3 6 7 - 9 ; also, more
am biguously, v . 3 9 5 —40 4, with x i. 690—3) and might have been the
subject o f a pre-Hom eric epic poem. Because the scene in which
Patroclus' ghost visits Achilles (xxm . 6 5 - 1 0 7 ) follows a similar
pattern of events and imagery to the individual meetings in the
nehuomanteiou, it is easy to guess that both draw on a traditional
narrative type in which the dead emerge from I lades to confront the
living. In particular, the Patroclus episode has so much in common
with the Mesopotamian story of the visit of Enkidu’s ghost to
G ilgam esh1 that it is tempting to suppose that the two belong to a
widely spread story-type of this kind. It is possible that the
consultation o f Tiresias owes something to the lore of oracles of
the dead,2 whether practised in Greece or known from abroad, and
the burgeoning hero-cults o f the eighth century may well have
involved ritual conjurations from the Underworld.'1 It makes sense

1 S e e T h e E p ic o f G ilgam esh , T a b le t x ii, in D a ile y ( 1 9 9 1 ) , w ith (e.g.)

G e r m a in ( 19 5 4 ) , 3 2 9 - 7 0 ; K ir k ( 19 7 0 ) . 10 S ; ( 19 7 4 ) . 260 ; B u rk c rt (19 9 2 ). 65­
73·
3 S e e H u x le y ( 19 5 8 ) , a rg u in g that the im ag ery o f the nehiw m anlrion was
o r ig in a lly a sso cia te d w ith th e T h c s p ro tia n o racle o f th e dead ; on the T h e -
s p ro tia n c o n n e c tio n , com p n re M e rk e lb a c h ( 1 9 5 1 ) , 2 2 0 - 3 0 ; and on the general
q u e stio n o f the in flu e n ce o f the lo re o f o racle s o f the d e ad on the sh ap in g o f the
N c k u ia , see csp . G e r m a in ( 19 5 4 ) . 37'~ S f . C ra n e (19 S S ) , 9 3 - 6 . P age ( 1 9 5 5 : 24­
5). a rg u e s on in te rn a l g ro u n d s that the co n su ltatio n o f T ir e s ia s w as origin ally
set in an o racle o f th e d e ad . In G r e e c e , attestation s o f su ch oracles are m ostly
late ; the e a rlie st arc H e ro d o tu s' sto ry (5. 929) o f P e ria n d e r o f C o rin th using
th e T h c s p r o t ia n o racle to co n su lt the sh ad e o f his w ife M e lis s a , and the
e p iso d e in A e s c h y lu s ' P ers a e (5 0 8 -8 5 = ) in w h ich A to ssa calls up the ghost of
D a riu s . T h e r e can b e no d ire ct e v id e n ce that su ch lore is on H o m e r’ s horizon;
fo r e a stern e x e m p la rs see L o r e tz (19 9 3 ).
1 O n the q u e stio n o f the a n tiq u ity o f h e ro -cu lt sec csp . C o ld stre a m ( i 97fi)
an d S n o d g r a s s ( 19 8 2 ). C o ld s tre a m h old s that h ero -cu lt d e ve lo p e d m o stly after
c .6 5 0 UC, p a rtly in re sp o n se to the g ro w in g p o p u la rity o f H o m e ric e p ic , while
S n o d g r a s s re g a rd s the d e v e lo p m e n ts o f e p ic and o f c u lt ns parallel m an ifesta­
tio n s o f the sa m e c u ltu r a l m o ve m e n t. M id w a y betw een them Patzek (19 9 2 :
1 6 2 - 7 7 ) a rg u e s that the H o m e ric lore o f h e ro ic b u ria ls d ra w s on con tem porary
h e ro -c u lt o f the 8th ce n t, b u t also in flu en ced su b se q u en t d e ve lo p m e n t* in
c u b ic p ra c tic e . (S e e also S c n fo rd (19 9 4 ). 18 0 - 9 0 .) H o w e v e r that m a y b e, there
is no e v id e n ce that e a rly h ero -cu lt in vo lv e d in vo catio n o f the w ra ith s o f the
d e a d , o r that su c h ritu als arc reflected in the N c k u ia . T h e d rin k in g o f the
sacrificial b lo o d b y H o m e r's sh ad es su g g e sts a lin k w ith p rac tice s in later
h e ro -c u lt (see e .g . S o p h . O C 6 2 1 —3), b u t that im plies n othing ab out associated
b e lie f*. ( C f. also P u llc y n (19 9 7 ) . t a t - a .)
 The Corpse and the A fte rlife : A ppen dix 217

,hat the dead called up in necromancy should b e seen as wispy and

insubstantial images, while the dead during a journey into Hades
itself arc more substantial and more in control o f their shadowy
e x is te n c e . T h is might also explain why t h e drinking of th e sacrificial
b lo o d is remembered in some of Odysseus' meetings and forgotten in
others, since that offering belongs in the story-pattern of a necro­
mantic ritual rather than a journey inside the land o f the dead.
Together, these ambiguities provide the Analyst with much licence,
and an endless variety of solutions has been proposed.4 Most believe
that the uneontaminated Homeric Odyssey included a visit to Hades
to consult Tiresias, while opinions vary as to whether tjte meetings
with Anticleia and Elpenor arc fully Hom eric.5 T h e Catalogue o f
* It has not been p o ssib le to re sp o n d to the A n a ly s ts in Tull d e tail h e re ; the
nuwt u sefu l s u rv e y s h a v e b een th o se b y H c u b c c k in the O x fo r d Commentary
and b y LesU v ( 19 6 7 ) . 1 2 5 - 6 . O n the p ro b le m s n o tice d b y the s c h o lia sts , m a n y
of w h ich coin cid e w ith th o se raised b y A n a ly s ts , sec c sp . P etzl ( 19 6 9 ) , p t.i
passim. I felt co m p e lle d to ad o p t n b a s ic a lly U n ita ria n a p p ro a c h a fte r s tu d y in g
the m ost often cited A n a ly st tre a tm e n ts, th o se o f M c r k e lh a c h ( 1 9 5 1 ) an d P a g e
(•OSS) (sec d etailed d isc u ssio n b e lo w ). F o r U n ita r ia n d e fe n ce s see e sp .
Dftchner < 19 3 7 ). e sp . 10 4 , 1 1 9 —2 2 ; R e in h a rd t ( 19 4 8 ) , 5 2 - 1 4 4 ; E r b s e ( 19 7 2 ) ,
23—3 3 . E rb se b u ild s h is a rg u m e n t on the fact that it is s tr ic tly u n n e c e ssa ry fo r
O dysseus to c o n su lt T ir e s ia s in o rd e r to lin d ou t ab o u t h is h o m o co m in g , sin ce
what the sage tells h im ab ou t T h r in a c ia is s u b sta n tia lly re p e a te d b y C ir c e la te r
on (xii. 1 2 7 - 4 1 ) ; th is e n co u ra g es the s u p p o s itio n that th e c o n su lta tio n o f
T ire sia s is a peg on w h ich to h a n g the o th e r m e e tin g s, e a ch o f w h ic h E r h s c
justifies both as e x a m p le s o f H o m e ric c o m p o s itio n a l te ch n iq u e and in te rm s o f
their relevan ce to the o v e ra ll th e m e s o f the Odyssey. L c s k y ( 19 6 7 : 1 2 5 - 6 ) is
m ore cau tio u s, a rg u in g that the c o n fu s io n b etw e e n nekuomanteion an d
hatabasis is H o m e ric , b u t p ro p o sin g a lso that th e re ore m a jo r p o s t- H o m c r ic
in terpolations. K ir k ( 19 6 2 : 2 3 6 —40) o ffe rs a s im ila r a rg u m e n t. A m o n g m o re
recent stu d ies the m o st u se fu l h as been the s tro n g ly U n ita ria n re a d in g b y
C rane (19 8 8 ; 8 7 - 1 0 8 ) , e m p h a siz in g the o v e ra ll co h e sio n w h ich H o m e r h as
im posed on e lem en ts d ra w n fro m se p arate tra d itio n s o f nekuomanteion an d
hatabasis, and a c c e p tin g as H o m e ric e v e n the d o u b tfu l <ΐ3ωΛον p assag e in
O d ysseu s’ m e etin g w ith H e ra c le s (see b e lo w , n . 15 ) .
* M e rk e lh a ch ( 1 9 5 1 : 18 6 - 8 ) acce p ts all th ree o n g ro u n d s o f p o e tic e x c e l­
lence. P age ( 19 5 5 ) a cce p ts ih e T ir e s ia s scen e ( 2 4 - 5 ) an d th e A n tic le ia sce n e ,
but has an odd v ie w o n E lp e n o r (4 4 -6 ): he h o ld s that in the o rig in a l N c k u ia
O dysseu s did not k n o w that E lp e n o r had d ie d , an d that the tw o lin e s in w h ich
he refers to this (x i. 5 4 , 58) h a v e b een ad d e d b y w h o e v e r ad apted th e N ck u ia
to fit its p resen t p o sitio n . T h e a d d e d lin es he d e sc rib e s as ‘ tw o o f the silliest in
G ree k epic* (46). F o r U n ita r ia n d e fe n ce s o f the E lp e n o r scen e see UOchner
( ' 937), « 0 5 -7 ; R e in h a rd t (19 4 8 ) , 1 3 2 - 4 ; and H c u b c c k a d loc. F ro m an A n a ly st
point o f vievV, the p rin c ip a l p ro h lc m w ith th e sto ry o f E lp e n o r is that it is not
im m ediately o b v io u s w h y H o m e r sh o u ld h a v e told the sto ry o f th e d eath o f
this in sign ifican t ch a ra c te r an d h is ap p e aran ce in H a d e s: c o n se q u e n tly it is
 . ibf*
Death and the AJterlife Ί '*
2i8
Women (2 25-327) is easily excised,* though Odysseus' meetings with ’
Agamemnon (387-466), Achilles (467-540), and A jax (5 4 1-6 5 ) re­
semble the earlier encounters too closely to be cut so easily.7 Finally, '
it is easy to bracket the scene known as the Hadesschau, in which
Odysseus describes the spectacle o f M inos, the famous sinners, and
Heracles (568-626)." Analysts generally hold that the Catalogue of .
Women was fitted in from a source akin to what survives as the
Hesiodic Ehoiai? and that the latter part of the Nckuia draws on a
(hypothetical) poem of the katabasit o f H eracles.10
T h e central objection to all this is not on details but on a single
point of principle. By assuming that the Nekuia is cobbled together
from earlier poems, and by transferring the blame for the difficulties
from Hom er to a further poet or hack for whose existence there is no
real external evidence, the Analysts succeed only in explaining a
complex problem through models which arc themselves still more
com plex. T ake for exam ple the schemes reached in the two most
influential full Analyst treatments, those of R . M erkelbach" and D. L.
Page.17 M erkelbach holds that two epics, a Homecoming of Odysseus
tem pting to suppose that the story w as added or adjusted to strengthen the
link betw een the N c k u ia and the rest o f O d ysseu s' story. C ran e (19 S 8 : 95-6)
holds that the story* is an in tegral part o f the N eku ia, and suggests that it looks
back to a m ore ancient tradition w h ereby the consultation o f the dead had lo
be preceded b y the sacrifice o f a hum an victim . H is only evidence for this is
based on m uch later lore o f necrom ancy (see S e rv iu s at A e n . 6. 10 7 ), but the
p o ssib ility rem ains that som e such story -pattern has su rvived in our Odyisey
w ith its o rigin al sacral m eaning suppressed or forgotten.
1 c.g . M e rk e lb ach ( 1 9 5 1 ) , 18 8 -9 0 ; Page (19 5 5 ), 36 -9 · T h e C atalogue of
W om en is d efen ded b y E rb se ( 19 7 2 : 27—8), w ho links its them es to those of
O d ysse u s' m eeting w ith hi* ow n m other. S in ce catalogue poema seem to have
been part o f the epic trad itio n since die earliest tim es (W est ( ig S s n ) , cap 3 ­
1 1 ) 1 see no reason to reject the p ossib ility that H om er inserted one at tltii
point in the N ek u ia, m uch as w ith the C atalogue o f Sh ip s in the Ihad.
7 M e rk e lb ach ( 1 9 5 1 ) accepts these m eetings, though at this stage the
panoram a seem s alread y to h ave broadened into som ething like the
Ilad csscbau (note esp. xi. 3 8 8 -9 , 539 ).
* M erk e lb ach ( 1 9 5 1) , 1 9 1 ; Page (19 5 5 ). 25.
9 S e e M e rk e lb ach ( 1 9 5 1) , 1K 8-90.
10 F ir s t su ggested b y von d e r M ü h ll (19 3 8 ). 8; the fu llest recent treatm ent is
b y C ran e (19 8 8 ), 10 2 - 8 8 . N . R obertson (19 8 0 ) reconstructs an archaic epic of
H eracles in detail, but does not define its relation to H om er; E rb se (19 7 2 ; 3 1 ­
3), b elieves that H e racle s' katabasit lies behind H o m er's N eku ia. but he
su ggests that the sou rce m ay not have been in the epic verse tradition. Sec
also K ir k on v. 3 9 6 -7 for p ossib le sources o f the H eracles legend as mentioned
in H om er.
12
" («9 5«). « 8 5 - 9 1. 11 (19 5 5 ). 21- 5«·

U .t X »
 The Corpse and the A fterlife: A ppendix 219
(‘ A ’ ) and a T c lc m a c liy (‘ T ’) w ere com bined into o u r p resen t poem b y
an inferior poet, the Bearbeiter (‘ B ’). He assigns the m eetings with
Tiresias, Elpenor, Anticleia, and O dysseus’ com rades from the
Trojan W ar to A, and gives everything else (up to xi. 636) to 13.
This judgem ent is made partly on stylistic grounds and partly because
of the topographical details introduced in the Hadcssehau.u Page, on
the other hand, would have it that O dysseus’ visit to Hades w as
originally told in an independent poem where O dysseus narrated the
story to Penelope (note xi. 223—4, com paring xxiii. 3 2 2 -5 ), and that in
the original Odyssey Circe herself gave O dysseus the inform ation
which in ours is imparted by T iresias (cf. xii. 12 7 - 4 1) . *phc Catalogue
and the scene o f M inos and the famous dead will have been added by
another meddler again. Both these hypotheses seem more difficult and
problematic than the problem they address, which is sim ply that for
the modern reader the Hom eric Hades is dark and confusing and
emerges only dim ly from the gloom. W hy should it have seemed
clearer and brighter to Hom er? A p p lyin g O ccam ’s razor, it is sim ple
and economical to take it that the am biguities and inconsistencies m ay
already have been inherent in the tradition inherited by Hom er: in
which case the blame should be directed less at the poem itself than at
the over-systematized minds o f scholars.
In this light it is particularly easy to answ er the problem that the
nature of the afterlife is different at different parts o f the book. G iven
that Odysseus and Achilles are confused and uncertain about the
nature of the shades o f the dead when they confront them (above,
Ch. 6. pp. 2 0 8 - 11), it makes sense that Homer's sense o f what happens
after death should be no less doubtful, shaped by a com plex set o f
ideas and traditions which will com e together full o f am biguities and
unresolved contradictions. A more real stum bling-block is put before
us by the claim that two narratives have been conflated, one an
oracular consultation of the dead and the other a iournev through
|\"* *.n
--- -- —··· " “ · *-*■ * uuavvci tnui uns may De Dccausc
Homer him self is drawing on several different narrative traditions
not because someone else has added heterogeneous bits and pieces to a
smaller and smoother Hom eric original. I f we can show that the
change o f perspective is itself characteristically H om eric then rh-

iM erkclbach ( 1 9 5 1 ) , see e sp . 1 9 1 .
220 Death and the A fterlife
H om er and his characters perceive the dead as individuals. It is this
point that w ill occupy us now.

T h e essence o f the m ove from nekuomanteion to hatabasis is that we

begin outside H ades looking into the darkness from which the shades
em erge, then we are draw n into H ades and are m oving around its
lan d scap e.14 T h e m ovem ent is towards increasing clarity, depth and
resolution. S o described, it follow s the same pattern as the shift of
focus discern ible on a sm aller scale within each of the earlier episodes:
ju st as the landscape gains in clarity and im m ediacy as the narration
p rogresses, so w ithin each of the earlier m eetings the shadowy wraith
gains clarity and concreteness and begins to be treated as if it w ere the
dead man him self. T h e A n alysts credit some or all of these meetings
to the authentic voice o f H orner; consequently, they provide clear
eviden ce that the large-scale shift is a characteristic effect o f the
H om eric depiction o f the afterlife.
L e t us plot this in more detail. W e have observed (above, pp. 200-2)
that in the episode o f P atroclus’ ghost and the earlier m eetings o f the
N eku ia, the im age o f the aflcrh te survivor shifts from shade to corpse
and back again according to a consistent pattern: the flitting emptiness
o f the shade is revealed as it flits forw ard, then as it stands and speaks
the im age resolves into that o f the dead man proper, and finally it is
often revealed again as a w raith or em pty image as it flits back into
H ad es and the scene ends. T h e meetings with Anticlcia and Tiresias
repeat the pattern that we observed for the first throng o f shades and
for E lp en o r. T ire sia s com es to O dysseus as a w raith, rjXOe δ'<ττί ψυχή
Θηβαίου Ttiptoiao (xi. 90), but is treated as the seer him self until he
w ith draw s back into H ades,
cf»i ψ α μ ίν τη ψ υ χ ή μ ί ν ! β η δ ό μ ο ν Ι Ι ϊδ ο ς <Γσαι
T t i p e a i a o ά ν α κ τ ο ς , i n t i κ α τ ά Ο ίο ψ α τ ' «Aeftv. (xi. 150)
S i m i l a r l y A n t i c l e i a is a ψ υ χ ή w h e n s h e a p p e a r s fi r s t , b u t th e d e s c r i p ­
t io n i m m e d i a t e l y s e t t l e s d o w n in to t r e a t i n g h e r a s th e w o m a n h e r s e lf:

ή \ 0 ( S’ i n t ψ υ χ ή μ η τ ρ ό ς κ α τ α τ ίΟ ν η υ ίη ς .
Α ύ τ ο λ ύ κ ο υ Ο υ γ ά τ η ρ μ ίγ α λ ή τ ο ρ ο ς Ά ν τ ικ λ α α . ( x i . 8 4 —5)

O d y s s e u s d e s c r i b e s h e r a s μ η τ ρ ο ς . . . ψ υ χ ή κ α τα τ< Ο ν η υ(η ς ( x i . 1 4 1 ) w h e n
h e a s k s T i r e s i a s h o w to d e a l w it h h e r . D u r i n g th e c o n v e r s a t i o n s h e is
14 P a g e ( 1 9 5 5 : 2 7 ) d e sc rib e s lire sh ift ns 'c a re le ss and aw k w ard co m p o si­
tio n ’ . F o r the v ie w that this sh ift m ay reflect the a m b ig u itie s o f a single
c o m p o s e r, sec B ü c h n e r (« 9.17). e sp . « ° 4. * * *—* SÏ R e in h a rd t (19 4 8 ) . 13^ - 44!
also E r b s e ( 1 9 7 2 : 3 3 ), w h o em p h asizes the d iv e rs ity alrea d y in h eren t in
H o m e r 's in h e ritan ce .
 The Corpse and the A fte rlife : A ppendix 221
again imagined as the wom an herself, until he attem pts to em brace
her, μ η τ ρ ό ς ί μ ή ς ψ υ χ ή ν < Λ ό ιν κ α τ α τ ί Ο ν η υ ι η ς (xi. 2 0 5 ) , and she is revealed
as em pty nothingness, after w hich the scene ends with the start o f the
Catalogue o f W om en (xi. 2 2 5 ) .
In O dysseus’ m eetings w ith the wom en H om er says nothing to
acknowledge that they are shades rather than people of flesh and
blood: for the A n alysts, then, the Catalogue is artificially drawn into a
poem where it does not belong. H ow ever, the concreteness o f the
women can be seen equally w ell as part o f the gradually increasing
resolution of the overall picture o f Hades, and the difference between
this and the earlier scenes is one o f degree rather than kipd. T h e re is a
close parallel with the m eetings o f the nekuomanteion when O dysseus
picks up his tale after Alcinous* interruption and the women are
scattered aside by Persephone:
ψ υ χ ή ς μ ί ν t iir « σ κ ί δ α σ ' ά λ λ υ δ ι? ή λ λ η ι
α γ ν ή r i f p a t i ó v t i a γ υ ν α ι κ ώ ν Ο η λ υ π ρ ιιιυ ν ... (xi. 38 5“ 6)
Here as before the sudden m ovem ent o f the dead ones is what reveals
their em ptiness as shades. E ven deep in the katabnsis H om er does not
entirely rid him self o f the picture of flitting w raiths em erging from
Hades to meet O dysseus, and the image o f the dead m oving nnd
thinking exactly like living men continues to alternate with the image
that they are shadow y and strengthless. F o r exam ple O dysseu s’
meeting with Agam em non (387-46 6) follow s a very sim ilar pattern
to that with Anticleia. H e flits up to O dysseus as a shade,
ήλΟ ( y ό τ ι ψ υ χ ή ί ί γ α μ ί μ ν ο ν ο ς ^ Irp c fS a o ,
ά χ ν υ μ ϊν η .. . (3 8 7 -8 )

but the image shifts to that of the man him self:

ΐ γ ν ι υ S ' α ιψ ’ ί μ ί κ ίϊν ο ς , ό τ » ί -nltv α ίμ α Κ ίλ α ιν ό ν ,

κ λ α ϊ( &’ ό γ€ λιγίως. ( 390—0
lie stretches out to touch O dysseus, but has not enough strength and
substance to reach him . T h e y then converse as man to man, and when
Agamemnon narrates his ow n death he uses the first-personal pronoun
of his corpse, ju st as Patroclus and E lp en or had done, telling how
Clytaem nestra dishonoured him when he was on his w ay to H ades:
Ot)Sf μ ο ι ίτ λ η . Ιό ιτ ι n tp fff .’ 1ί3αο,
, χ ίρ σ ί κ α τ ' οφ θαλμούς l \ ( t tv συν τ< α τ ό μ ’ Ip tïa a t. (4 2 5 —6 )
He continues as Agam em non him self until the end o f the episode, but
he docs not withdraw back into the gloom: the shift o f focus towards
222 Death and the Afterlife
the interio r o f H a d e s has b e g u n , and at the close o f the scene
A g a m e m n o n and O d y s s e u s re m ain stand ing together, «στη;ire άχ»’ύ-
μο'οι (466). W h e n they are jo in e d b y the s h ad e o f A c h ille s ( 4 6 7 -5 4 0 ),
it continues to be a ψ υχή and fe m in in e in g e n d e r u ntil the speeches
th em selves, w h en the a rticulatio n shifts as usual to vixus/vexpo s:
O d y s s e u s d e s c rib e s h im as ru le r o v e r the d ea d , μ ί γ α κ ρ α τ ΐτ iy vexveaoiv
(xi. 4 S5 ), and A c h ille s re m in d s h im o f the h o r ro r s o f rule over πάσιν
vexveoot κ α τ α φ Ο ιμ ίν ο ιο ιν ( 4 9 1 ) . W h e n the m e e tin g e nd s A c h illes is
again a w ra ith , but he s tr id e s across the n o w visible landscape o f
H a d e s w ith none o f the fee b le n ess o f the earlie r φ υ χ α ί:

ψ υ χ ή δ ί 770Stuxeos Α ία κ ίδ α ο
φ ο ίτα μ α κ ρ ά β ιβ ά ο α κ α τ ' ά σ φ ο δ ίλ ό ν λ (ΐμ ώ ν α ,
γηΟοαϋντ) ό ο ί υιόν ίφ η ν ά ρ ιδ ιίκ τ τ ο ν (tra t. ( 5 3 8 - 4 0 )

T h e m e e tin g w ith A j a x s h o w s a variant on the s am e pattern. He

b e g in s as an a n g r y w r a i t h , φ υχη κ τ χ ο λ ω μ ίν η (xi. 5 4 3 - 4 ) a m o n g the
c ro w d w h o arc n o w th r o n g e d a ro u n d O d y s s e u s , b u t the im age shifts
to that o f the d ea d m a n h i m s e l f w h e n O d y s s e u s recalls their quarrel
and A j a x ’ d eath:

t i t Sr) μ ή ΰ φ ίλ ο ν ν ικ ά ν τ ο ιώ ιδ ' è n ’ ά ίθ λ ω ι·
τ ο ίη ν γ ά ρ κ ίφ α λ ή ν ê v e x ’ α υ τώ ν γ α ϊα κ α τ ΐο χ τ ν ,
sliavO ', os 77ept μ ί ν ciSoy, nept δ* ep ya τ τ τ ν κ τ ο
τ ώ ν άλ λω ν Α α ν α ώ ν μ ( τ ' ά μ ΰ μ ο ια Π η λ ΐίω ν α .
τό ν μ ί ν ι γ ώ ν c7TcVooi ηροοτ)ύδω ν μ € ΐλ ιχ ίο ισ ιν . . . (548—52)

T h e p ic tu r e is fixed in this w a y until he flits a w a y into the darkness as

a w raith :

6 δ ί μ ' ο ύ δ ίν ά μ α ’β τ τ ο , ß ij Sc p e r ' äλλas

φ υ χ ά s ets tpeß o s 1hkuw v κ α τ α τ τθ ν η ώ τω ν . ( 5 6 3 —4)

A t this p o in t O d y s s e u s p u s h e s fu rth e r into H a d e s in the hope of

s eeing m o re w ra ith s, φ υ χ ά s · · ■ κ α τ α τ € 0ντ]ώτων (xi. 567).
It is n o w that the o v e r a ll p a n o ra m a a c hieves clea r contours. T h e
b eings that h e sees are d e s c r ib e d as dead m en p ro p e r ( vttevoatv, 56 9 ),
and th ey are d o in g j u s t the kind o f th in gs that the insubstantial
w ra ith s o f the earlier s c e n e s w e r e in capable o f: the idea o f ghostly
w e a k n e s s has been s u p e r s e d e d altogeth er w h e n M in o s gives j u d g e ­
m en t, O r io n h u n ts, T i t y u s ’ liv e r is p eck ed b y the vu ltu re , T a n t a lu s
stand s in the r iv e r re a c h in g for foo d, and S is y p h u s p u sh e s his boulder
u p the hill ( 5 6 8 -6 0 0 ) . O d y s s e u s ’ m e e tin g w ith H e r a c le s is especially
re v e a lin g h ere. O d y s s e u s is inside H a d e s , w ith the dead (vexuw v, 605)
s u r r o u n d in g h im in c r o w d s , and the b e in g he m eets m u st be H eracles
h i m s e l f ra th e r than a s h a d e . T h a t im p ressio n is s treng th en ed rather
 The Corpse and the A Jlerlife: Appendix 223

tlinn the re v e rs e b y the d isp u te d p assa ge w h ic h e x p l a in s that th is

H eracles is n o t the h ero h i m s e l f b u t a p h a n t o m , «ϊδωλον:

τον S i μ ι τ ' ίΐο ίν ά η ο α β ίη ν Ή ρακλ^Ιην,

« β ώ λ ο ν αύτοΓ S i /i «t ' ΰΟανάτοιοι OcoCoi
τ ίρ π ΐτ α ι ίν Οιιλίηις καί <χ<ι καλλίοφ υρον Η β η ν,
ιταίδα d io s μ ΐγά Χ ο ιο κα ι Hprjs χρ υ σ ο ιτιδ ίλ ο ν. ( 6 θ Ι —4 )

T h i s is not an «βώλον in the s en se that the w r a i t h o f a d e a d m a n is an

«βώλον or φ οχή: the m o t i f o f a false im a g e is u s e d to e x p l a in h o w
H eracles can be in H a d e s and on O l y m p u s at the sa m e tim e , in j u s t
the sa m e w a y that A e n e a s in the I l i a d is r e p la c e d b y an « β ώ λον w h e n
A p o llo w h is k s h im out o f the battlefield to s a fe t y (v. 4 4 9 —5 3 ; se c
a bove, p p . 19 h —7 ) . ' s I f H e r a c le s w e r e a lr e a d y id e n tified as a w r a i t h in
15 N o great w eigh t can be placed on x i. 6 0 2 -4 , sin ce ve ry m an y an cien t and
m odern scholars hove con dem n ed them as an in terp o latio n (fo r an cien t
opinions analysed, sec Petzl (19 6 9 ). 2 8 -3 6 ). T h e sch o lia arc u n u su a lly p recise
in ascribing the lines to O n om acritus (cf. H dt. 7 . 6. 3), but it is lik e ly that th is
is a late guess rather than a genuine trad ition (P etzl (19 6 9 ), 3 5 , w ith fu rth e r
refs.). T h e m am reasons w h ich the sch oliasts g iv e to ju s t ify the e x c isio n are (a)
that the apotheosis o f H eracles is fo reign to H o m e ric m y th o lo g y , and (6) that
this is the only place w h ere H o m er m entions h im as m atch ed w ith H e b e . B u t
although this is the on ly place w h ere H o m e r sp e cifica lly says that H e ra c le s
went to O lym pu s, he docs re fe r to sim ilar stories e lse w h e re: C a ly p s o s a y s that
she wanted to m ake O dysseu s im m ortal (see v . 1 3 6 , v ii. 2 5 7 , x x iii. 3 3 6 ) , w h ile
Ino ( v . 3 3 3 - 5 ) , G an y m ed e ( v . 2 6 5 -6 , X X . 2 3 2 - 5 ) , C litu s (x v . 2 5 0 - 1 ) , and
T ith on u s (v. 1 etc.) are all m ortals w ho h ave b een elevated to the so cie ty o f the
gods. T h e C y c lic T h ebaid contained an in terestin g varian t on th is p atte rn in
the story that A th en a cancelled h er offer o f im m o rtality to T y d e u s b ec au se o f
his savagery tow ard s a dead en em y (sec fr. 9 B e rn a b c , w ith D a v ie s (19 8 9 ), 2 7 —
8). T h e parallel o f T ith o n u s sh ow s that H e ra cle s’ m a rria g e fo llo w s a p attern
which is not fo reign to H o m e ric m yth o lo gy: T ith o n u s is a tran slated m o rtal
m arried to the deity o f a natural phen om en on , D a w n , ju s t as H e racle s is
m arried to Y o u th . In p rin cip le there seem s to be n o th in g e sp e c ia lly ‘ la te ’
about the story: in the Ilia d , H eb e m in isters to the g o d s (tv . 2—3 , V . 7 2 2 , 9 0 5),
and the story o f her m arriage to H eracles is c e rta in ly as o ld as H e sio d ( T h eo g .
05°~ S )· Sch oliasts on the O dyssey passage o b je ct to the m arriag e o f H e b e to
H eracles on the grou n d s that in the I li a d her d u tie s in clu d e w a sh in g the g o d s,
w hich they hold to be the du ty o f a παρθίνος rath e r than a m arrie d w o m an ; b u t
there seem s to be no fast rule ab out th is, sin ce (fo r e xam p le ) H e len d e scrib e s
w ashing O dysseu s in T r o y (iv. 2 5 2 ), at a tim e w h e n she h ad left m aid en h o o d
far behind. (O n the w hole p ro b lem sec Petzl ( 19 6 9 ) , 3 2 - 4 .) T h e r e w o u ld b e
better grounds fo r su sp ectin g the passage if it co u ld be p ro v e d that the id ea o f
explain in g som eone’ s presence in tw o places b y m e an s o f the co n ce p t o f an
«βώλον w as an in vention o f the p o st-H o m c ric p e rio d , b u t on the e v id e n ce
there is no good reason to b elieve that this is the case (see C h . 6 n. 7 8 ). In the
H esiodic C atalogue o f W omen, the sto ry that an «Γδωλον w as s u b stitu te d fo r
224 Denth m id the A fterlife
v i r t u e o f b e i n g o n e o f the d e a d , it w o u l d not m a k e s e n s e to s a y that he
is n s u b s t i t u t e eiSojAov s t a n d i n g in Tor the O l y m p i a n H e r a c l e s : hence
th e p a s s a g e i m p l i e s th a t w h a t w a s e x p e c t e d h e r e in H a d e s sc en e was
t h e m a n h i m s e l f , th e m a n o f flesh a n d b l o o d . ,Λ A f t e r Heracles
w i t h d r a w s O d y s s e u s c o n t i n u e s a s i f h e w e r e a m o n g the d ea d thcirt-
s e K e s , s u r r o u n d e d b y h o s t s o f c o r p s e s , iO vta.. . . μυρ(α vtKpw v (x i. 632)·
a n d h e w i t h d r a w s at la st b e c a u s e h e fea rs th at P e r s e p h o n e w ill send
o u t th e G o r g o n s h e a d ( 6 3 3 - 5 ) , j u s t as in h is m e e t i n g w ith A n ticlcia
h e h a d f e a r e d th a t P e r s e p h o n e h a d sen t a false «ΓδωΛον to d e c e iv e him
( x i. 2 1 3 - 1 4 ) .
I n th is w a y th e d e e p e n i n g o f p e r s p e c t i v e in th e c o u r s e o f the b o ok is
b o u n d u p w i t h th e s h if t o f e m p h a s i s o b s e r v a b l e w it h in eac h o f the
e a r l i e r m e e t i n g s . W h e n the d e a d m a n rises u p f r o m H a d e s , h e m oves
a s a w r a i t h a n d h is la c k o f s u b s t a n c e is r e m e m b e r e d , h u t w h e n the
c o n v e r s a t i o n b e t w e e n h im a n d O d y s s e u s g e t s u n d e r w a y he gains
e n o u g h v i v i d n e s s a n d s u b s t a n c e to be treated as a b e in g o f flesh and
b l o o d ; c o r r e s p o n d i n g l y , as O d y s s e u s ' s t o r y g r o w s in le n g th it g r o w s in
v i v i d n e s s a n d c l a r i t y , w i t h t h e m y t h o l o g ic a l c o n t o u r s o f H ad es
e m e r g i n g e v e r m o r e f r o m th e g l o o m , so that e v e n t u a l l y he is
m o v i n g a m o n g th e d e a d w i t h i n th e ir re a lm . B u t e v e n u n d e r that
in f l u e n c e t h e s h ift o f f o c u s is o n e o f d e g r e e r a t h e r th a n o f kind, and
t h e i m a g e o f the f litt in g w r a i t h d o e s n o t w h o l l y d i s a p p e a r u ntil close
to th e e n d o f th e w h o l e . In o t h e r w o r d s , on e v e r y level the N e k u ia is
s h o t t h r o u g h w i t h a m b i g u i t i e s w h i c h b e l o n g as m u c h in H o m e r 's
in h e r i t a n c e o f n a r r a t i v e p a t t e r n s as in h is h o a r d o f w o r d s and
f o r m u l a e . J u s t a s t w o c o n c e p t i o n s o f the d ea d m a n 's n a tu re jo s tle

Ip h im e d e ( = Ip h ig e n ia ) at h er sa c rific e seem s to h ave b een in trodu ced in

e x a c tly the sa m e ve rb a l p atte rn as in tbe H eracles p assag e (l ie s. fr. :3 a . 17 - 2 4
M - W , w ith s u p p le m e n ts ); b u t sin c e the date o f the H csio d ic C aln tngnr itself
c a n o n ly b e gu esse d at, this d o c s not help to d e cid e w h e th e r the H eracles
p assag e is ty p ic a l o f the earliest m y th ic a l p atte rn s. It is easy to sec how an
in te rp o la to r m ight h a v e in serte d these lines ns an an sw e r to objections
p ro m p te d b y k n o w le d g e o f the sto ry o f H e ra cle s' ascent to O ly m p u s, but it
re m a in s e q u a lly p o ssib le that H o m e r is h im s e lf seek in g to reconcile that
trad itio n w ith sto rie s in w h ic h H e ra c le s d escen d ed to the U n d e rw o rld after
h is d e ath . It is w o rth c o m p a rin g the p assage w h ich e x p la in s that the D ioscuri
altern ate d a ily b etw een life and d eath (xi. 3 0 1 —4), again st w h ich another
p assag e s im p ly sa y s that th ey arc d ead and b elo w the earth (til. 2 4 3 -4 ) . T h is
stan d s as an o th e r e x a m p le o f an u n u su a l d e vice b e in g used to acco u n t for the
p re se n ce o f a p e rso n in both the u p p e r and the lo w er w o rld . T h e m ost recent
fu ll d isc u ssio n o f the H e ra c le s p assag e is b y C ra n e ( 19 8 8 : 8 7 - 9 1 ) , arg u in g that
it is H o m e ric .
Ie Γ α α P ö ts c h e r ( 19 6 5 : 2 0 8 - 1 0 ) , w h o assu m es that this «ΓδωΛον is identified
in the n o rm al w a y as the a fte rlife s u r v iv o r o f the dead H eracle s.
 The Corpse ami the A fte rlife : Appendix 225

w ith eac h o t h e r in th e l a n g u a g e o f the N c k u i a , s o the im a g e r y o f

nek u om an lcio n v i e s w i t h th at o f katabasis in th e p o e t ’ s b a s ic c o n c e p t o f
w h a t is g o i n g o n . T h e r e is n o e s c a p i n g this a m b i v a l e n c e b e t w e e n tw o
s t o r y - p a t t e r n s a n d t w o v y i n g a s p e c t s o f the a ft e r lif e , a n d the o v e r a ll
c h a n g e o f f o c u s in th e later e p i s o d e s o f the b o o k is d ir e c t l y p a r a lle le d
b y the c h a n g e o f f o c u s th a t c h a r a c t e r iz e s e a c h e n c o u n t e r in the e a r lie r
section. S i n c e th a t s e c t io n is d e f in i t e l y a t t r i b u t e d to H o m e r , it is
evid e n t th at th e l a r g e - s c a l e s h ift re lle c t s n c h a r a c t e r is t i c a s p e c t o f
H o m e r 's c o n c e p t io n o f th e a ft e r lif e . T h i s o u g h t to s t r e n g t h e n th e c a se
for t r y in g to u n d e r s t a n d th e N c k u i a a s a c o m p l e x u n ity .
V
2. T h e a u th e n tic ity o f the S e c o n d N e k u ia
A t v a r i o u s p o i n t s in th is s t u d y , o u r r e f e r e n c e s to H o m e r h a v e
in clud ed p a s s a g e s f r o m th e S e c o n d N e k u i a ( x x i v . 1 —2 0 4 ) , w h i c h it
is p a r t ic u l a r l y e a s y to r e g a r d as a n i n t e r p o l a t i o n . 17 H o w e v e r , all th o se
re fere n c e s h a v e h e e n to w o r d s a n d i m a g e s w h i c h are p a r a l l e l e d at least
once e l s e w h e r e in th e t w o e p ic s , s o th a t n o n e o f o u r a r g u m e n t s h a s
had to d e p e n d s o l e l y o n a p a s s a g e f r o m th is e p i s o d e . T h i s m e a n s th at
there h a s b e e n no p r e s s i n g n e e d f o r u s to d e c i d e w h e t h e r o r not to
accept it as H o m e r i c ; c o n s e q u e n t l y , th is is not the p la c e to d is c u s s
w h e t h e r e x c i s i o n is ju s t i f i e d b y its m o s t s t r i k i n g o d d i t i e s " 1— th e
p e r e m p t o r y w a y in w h i c h th e s u i t o r s ' k a ta b a s is is n a r r a t e d at th is

11 T h e question o f the authenticity o f the Seco nd Nekuia must be d is­

tinguished from the general question mark that hangs over everything after
xxiii. 296, the rr’Aoi or 77 <par fixed by Aristarchus and Aristophanes. 'Π ιε single
continuous story-line o f the main narrative after xxiii. 296 makes it reasonable
to lake it as a whole wh en deciding whether or not to include it as Homeric;
but within that narrative the Second Nekuia hang* so loosely on its context,
and involves such a cluster o f special difficulties, that it is marked out as a
separate problem. I f it is an interpolation, its origin will be separate from and
later than that o f any part o f the main narrative from xxiii. 296 to the end o f
xxiv. An approach of this kind m ay have been taken by the greatest
Alexandrian scholars therm elves, since those who fixed the ‘ conclusum' (in
whatever sense) at xxiii. 296 seem also to have condemned the Second Nckuia
in n separate act o f criticism (compare scholia at xxiii. 296 with scholia at
xxiv. t).
1 For complete surveys o f the ancient opinions on these and more trivial
problems o f the Second Nekuia, see Petzl (1969), pt. ii passim, and Garhrah
(* 0 7 7 ); and sec also Page ( 1 9 5 s ) · 1 16-2.4. A rguments in favour o f accepting the
episode as Homeric are advanced by T hornton (1970), 4 - t o ; Erbse (1972).
2 3 1- 6 ; Wender (1978), 19 -4 4 ; and by I leubecl. in his introduction to xxiv in
vol. 3 o f the Oxford Com m entary. T h e fullest recent study is that of
Sourvinou-lnwood (19 9 5: 9 4 -10 6 ), who denies that it is Homeric, mostly
because o f the direct narration of the descent in the poet's own voice.
226 Death and the A fterlife
point, the a n o m a ly o f m a k in g the w ra ith s o f A c h ille s a n d A g a m e m n o n
m eet for the first tim e ten y e ars a fter A g a m e m n o n ’ s d eath (x x iv . 24­
97), the v a rio u s difficultie s o f A g a m e m n o n ’ s a c co u n t o f the fu n era l of
A c h ille s ( 3 6 - 9 7 ) , the ir re le v a n c e o f the tw o h ero e s' c o n v e r sa tio n to the
them es o f the O d yssey, the s lip s in A m p h i m e d o n ’ s a c co u n t o f the
s u it o rs ’ d o w n fa ll ( 1 2 1 —202), the u n u s u a lly otiose rep etitions w h e n lie
retells the s to ry o f P e n e lo p e 's loo m ( 1 2 6 —48; se c ii. 9 3 —1 1 0 , x ix . 1 3 9 —
62), and the non se q u itu r w h e n A g a m e m n o n r e s p o n d s to A m p h i m c -
d o n , h is o w n foYoy (x x iv . 1 1 4 ) , not b y b la m in g or c o n s o lin g h im but
b y la u n c h in g into general re m a r k s abou t P e n e l o p e ’ s v irtu e s ( 1 9 2 ­
2 02). B u t it will be useful to c o m p a r e the d ea th -lo re o f the S e c o n d
N e k u ia p oin t b y p o in t w ith the d e a th -lo r e w h ic h w e k n o w to be
H o m e r i c , g a u g i n g the ex te n t to w h ic h it d iffers fro m the norm .

(i) T h e concept o f s u r v iv a l in the a fte rlife . T h e d ea d o f the S e c o n d

N e k u ia arc a l w a y s re fe rre d to as φ υ χ α ί, n e v e r as vlxu ts/v iK p o l, and tile
fe m in in e g e n d e r is k e p t u p q u ite c on sisten tly (note csp. ψ υχή in
x x i v . 1 4 —2 3 , 3 5 , 1 0 5 , 1 2 0 , 1 9 1 ) e x c e p t in the w o r d in g o f the
c o n v e r sa t io n s t h e m s e lv e s, w h e n the w ra ith is n a tu ra lly treated as if
he w e r e the dead m a n h im se lf. 'P h is p attern c losely re s e m b le s that
w h ic h l l o m c r f o llo w s in the kalabasis section o f O d y s s e u s ' N ek u ia ,
w h ic h is also the p a r t closest to the S e c o n d N e k u ia in su b je c t-m a tte r.
S o m e lines arc identical (note c sp . x x iv . 2 0—2 = x i. 3 8 7 —9), th o u gh this
p ro v e s n o th in g in itself. H o w e v e r , one s lig h t d ep a rtu re f r o m the
H o m e r ic n o r m a p p e a r s in A m p h i m e d o n ’ s speech to A g a m e m n o n .
A f t e r te llin g o f O d y s s e u s ’ ve n g e a n c e he e n d s w it h the w o rd s

ώ ϊ ή μ ίΐ ς , Α γ ά μ ( μ ν ο ν , ά π ιυλ ά μ ίΟ ’, w v «τι κ α ι νυν

α ώ μ α τ ’ άκ·ηδ<α κ ο ’τα ι iv i μ ΐγ ά ρ ο ΐ ί Ό δ υ σ ή σ ί. ( x x i v . 1 8 6 - 7 )

W e h a v e see n in C h a p t e r 6 that in sp e e ch e s b y w ra ith s the usual

p attern is that ‘ Γ is used in d isc rim in a te ly o f the w ra ith itself and o f
the c o r p s e , m a k in g n o firm d istinctio n b e tw e e n these tw o m an ife s ta ­
tions o f the d ea d m a n ’ s id entity: A m p h i m e d o n ’s speech is u n iq u e in
the w a y he d is tin g u is h e s the s u ito rs th e m s e lv e s, as w ra ith s, fro m their
σ ώ μ α τ α . In this w a y , A m p h i m e d o n 's w o r d s com e e x ce p tio n a lly close
to a rt ic u la tin g a b o d y - s o u l d ic h o t o m y , and m ig h t th e re fo re reflect a
p o s t - H o m e r i c d e v e lo p m e n t in d ea th -lo re. H o w e v e r , there is o n ly a
s m a ll d iffe re n c e b e tw e e n th is u se o f σώμα and that fo u n d in O d y s s e u s '
a c c o u n t o f the w ra ith o f E l p e n o r (xi. 5 1 - 4 ) , so that the usage cannot
d efin ite ly b e c o n s id e re d u n - H o m c r ic .

(ii) T h e concept o f the fu n e r a l. W h e n the w ra ith o f A g a m e m n o n tells

the w ra ith o f A c h i l l e s a b o u t the latter’s funeral ( x x iv . 3 6 —97), he
 The Corpse and the A fterlife: Appendix 227

s p e a k s e x a c t ly in th e p a t t e r n w h ic h w e h a v e s k e t c h e d t h r o u g h o u t t h is
c h a p te r : th e c o r p s e o f A c h i lle s is id e n tifie d w it h th e A c h i l l e s w h o m
A ß a rn e m n o n a d d r e s s e s , o r ( x x i v . 4 3 - 6 , 5 8 , 6 3 , 6 5 , 7 1 ) u n t il h e is
b u r n e d , a ft e r w h ic h th e b o n e s a r c d i s t i n g u is h e d f r o m th e d e a d m a n
p ro p er (7 2 -9 ) .

(iii) The mythical imagery of the wraiths' descent to H a d e s . A n c i e n t

s c h o ln rs w e r e w o r r ie d b y th e fa c t th a t th e s u i t o r s ' w r a i t h s g o d o w n to
H a d e s w h ile s t ill u n b u r i e d ;19 b u t th is n e e d n o t b e a p r o b l e m , s i n c e w e
h a v e s e e n th a t it is in fa c t th e n o r m a l p a t t e r n in Iliad a n d Odyssey a lik e
th at th e ψ υ χ ή 'ϋ a r r iv a l in H a d e s is a d ir e c t c o n s e q u e n c e o p d e a t h a n d is
not m e d ia te d b y th e fu n e r a r y r it u a l. T h e s c h o li a s t s w e r e a ls o t r o u b l e d
b y d e t a ils o f th e t o p o g r a p h y w h ic h d o n o t c o r r e s p o n d to w h a t
O d y s s e u s m e n t io n s in h is o w n j o u r n e y , n o t a b ly th e r o c k L e u c a s
( x x iv . i i ) , J0 b u t t h is is h a r d ly a s e r i o u s p r o b l e m : t h e r e is n o r e a s o n
to th in k th e t o p o g r a p h y o f H a d e s w a s s h a r p l y fi x e d in H o m e r ’ s o w n
tr a d itio n , a n d in a n y c a s e O d y s s e u s ' r o u t e w a s h a r d l y t h e u s u a l o n e
tak en b y th e d e a d . M u c h m o r e u n u s u a l is th e w a y in w h ic h th e
d e s c e n t o f th e s u i t o r s is n a r r a t e d . H e r m e s s u m m o n s fo r t h t h e w r a i t h s ,
r'ftKoAttro ( x x i v . 1 ) , a n d t h e y fo llo w h im d o w n d a n k p a t h w a y s , κατ'
(èp u irvra κ ίλ τ υ θ α ( ί ο ) , in to th e s u b t e r r a n e a n r e a lm s , g i b b e r i n g a n d
s q u e a k in g lik e b a t s . T h e im a g e r y o f th e b a t s i m i l e d o c s s e e m to d r a w
on a s p e c ts o f H o m e r 's im a g e o f th e ψ υ χ ή , b u t in its v i s u a l p r e c i s i o n is
u n lik e a n y th in g in O d y s s e u s ' N c k u i a o r in th e Iliad·, t h is s u g g e s t s
s t r o n g ly th a t th e p o e t o f th e S e c o n d N e k u ia is d r a w i n g o n t h e m o r e
b a r o q u e im a g e o f th e ψ υ χή a c t u a lly t a k in g o n t h e f o r m o f a b ir d ( s e e
C h . i , p . 5 ) . T h e a p p e a r a n c e o f H e r m e s a s g u i d e o f th e d e a d is n o t
d ir e c t ly a tte s te d e ls e w h e r e in H o m e r .1 ' a n d t h e e p is o d e t a k e s th e
n a r r a t iv e in to th e w o r ld o f H a d e s a n d t h e w r a i t h s w it h u n p a r a lle le d
a b r u p tn e s s . T h e s w it c h fr o m th e im a g e o f d e a d m e n a s c o r p s e s to th a t
ol d e a d m e n as w r a it h s is a lm o s t v i o le n t : n o d e v i c e is u s e d to s m o o t h
th e t r a n s it io n fr o m o n e p la n e to th e o t h e r a n d to e x p l a i n h o w th e d e a d
m e n in O d y s s e u s ' h a ll h a v e g iv e n r i s e to th e w r a i t h s n o w m a k i n g t h e ir
w a y to th e U n d e r w o r ld . 11

Z at x x !v · 1 f f · x x ' " · 7 « . x x iv . 18 7 : and sec P e tzl ( .9 6 9 ) , s , - ,

^ ^ cn ol. at x x iv . 1 ; and see P etzl (19 6 9 ), 54—5.
„ 3 h o 1· “ * XX,.V· '* x x ' v · \ b ~ · ond scc P '« z l 0 <)ί>9 ). 47 - 9 . T h e n earest
he nawnc“" ' m ' °f 35 «u,de of the « a distant one,
the passage m Odysseus Nekuia where Heracles says Hut Hermes and Athena
A U rc! S7 2 ) ’ ΐ π ' μΦ" ’' h ,s j ° u rn e y “ > H a d e s ( x i. 6 z 6 ; an d c f. a lso /,.
S ee S o u rv in o u -In w o o il ( 19 9 5 ) , 1 0 3 —6.
 7
T h e P erso n alities o f D eath

How docs the xn'sible world relate to the mythical?

We have show n that ψυχή is sim p ly and literally the d yin g
m an's last gasp, released from his m outh and lost in the cold
moment o f death. B u t w hen the ψ υ χ ή o f Patroclus o r H ecto r
flics to H ades, its identity is su d d en ly tran sfo rm ed: it gib b ers,
it squeaks, it flies to H ades to jo in the w raith s o f the dead. T h is
wisp o f breath becom es part o f the unseen, im agined, m ythical
world, the w orld that the gods inhabit and only the M u ses can
see; yet none the less its m eaning rem ains rooted in the
everyday, non-m ythical phenom enon o f the d yin g m an ’s last
gasp. H ow are we to understand the relationship betw een the
two articulations, betw een the ψ υ χ ή that d isappears into n o ­
thing and the ψ υ χ ή that soars aw ay to another plane o f the
universe?

The divinities o j death

In this chapter I w ill seek an an sw er b y looking at an other
pattern o f im age-m aking in H o m eric death. In one sense death
is a visible, sublunary- event— a m an 's lim bs arc loosed, he falls
to the ground, darkness en velops his sight. B u t in an other sense
death is the business o f divine beings w ho approach and seize
him when he dies. T h e most prom inent o f these is Θάνατοί,
Death, along with Μοίρα, 'P o rtio n ', and the beings called Κήρ,
whose name feebly translates as 'F a te ' or 'D o o m ’ . T h e crucial
fact about these beings is that each o f their nam es also b elongs
in plain unvarnished language w ithout any reference to the
things o f m yth, θάνατοί is the nom inal reflex o f the root o f
Ονηιακω,. w hile μοίρα can denote sim p ly sh arin g or assignm ent
, 253,;, ,V' V' ?tc )’ and is P o s h l y from the sam e root as
Ktipw, I cut — death is w hat is cut out or ap portion ed to m ortal
2 32 The Sh apin g o f M yth
m a n .' T o cop e w ith each o f these nouns in a Riven con text w c
h a v e to ch oo se b etw een the m yth ical sense or the colourless
e v e r y d a y sen se, w ith n o th in g but com m on sense and sensitivity
to g u id e u s. T h u s these w o rd s o ffer a sim ilar p rob lem to that
p o se d b y ι/«νλ·/,: the sin g le w o rd has both a m ythical and a non.
m y th ic a l m ean in g, and d o u b t h an gs o ver the relationship
b e tw e e n them . It w o u ld be no solution to try to prise the two
le v e ls a p art as if they belo n ged in different p rovin ces of
th o u g h t and im agin ation , and w e w ill sec that the H om eric
re a litie s d em an d a m ore radical ap proach: the m eaning o f these
d iv in e p e rso n a lities is rooted in the sim p le or n o n - m y t h i c a ’.
e x p e rie n c e o f d yin g , and they em erge from that exp erien ce in
flu id an d su p p le w ay s.
L e t us b e g in w ith θάνατος. O nce w c abandon the convention
o f p rin tin g a capital letter to distin gu ish θάνατος, death, from
Θ άνατοί, the so -called god o f death, w c see the w ord sliding
b e tw e e n the tw o ex tre m e s.2 T h e d ivin ity nam ed D eath, as it
w e re the G r im R e a p e r, has a fu lly-fled ged identity o f his own
am o n g the o th er g o d s ,1*5though in H om er he em erges into the

1 O n μ οίρα as ‘ p o r tio n ’ see e sp . P fltse h e r (i9 6 0 ); also D ie tric h (19 6 5 ). 6 1;

E r b s e (19 8 6 ), 2 7 4 - 9 ; an d on o-ijp an d κ<ΐριυ see L J g r E s .v . w ith A . N u ssb au m
( 19 8 6 ) , 66—9. O n th is g ro u p o f e ty m o lo g ie s sec also D ie trich (19 6 5 ), 2 4 0 -7 3 .
1 T h e fu lle st so u rce fo r the p e rso n a lity o f T h a n a to s is the first scene o f
E u r ip id e s ' A t c e s t i i , w h e re he a p p e a rs as a ch aracter. It has been needlessly
a rg u e d that th is ve rsio n o f T h a n a to s co m es from the con ven tio n s o f popular
fa b le ra th e r th an fro m n lite ra ry trad itio n still cu rren t in the late 5th cen t, (see
d e R u y t ( 1 9 3 2 ) ; G a r la n d ( 19 8 5 ) , 5 6 -9 ; and A . M . D a le ’ s ed itio n , p p . x x - x x i
an d o n lin e s 2 4 - 6 ) . F o r M o m eric p u rp o se s, the p ro b lem s o f the personal
D e a th a rc d isc u sse d b y A . L c s k y in H E v a ( i ), s . v . ’ T h a n a to s ', 1 2 4 6 - 5 1 ;
V e r m e u le ( 19 7 9 ) , 3 7 - 4 « . > 4 5 - 7 : and b rie fly b y E rb s e (19 8 6 ), 2 2 - 3 . L e sk y
p o in ts o u t that w ith the H o m e ric θάνατος it is im p o ssib le as w ell as m isgu ided
to try to se p a ra te poetic in ve n tio n fro m reflection s o f gen u in e religio u s belief,
an d c o r re s p o n d in g ly that the person al figu re is d e e p ly rooted in the sem antics
o f th e w o rd βαιατοΓ itse lf. V e rm e u le ( 19 7 9 ) notes the e x p lic it p erson ificatio n in
th e S a r p e d o n sto ry and its re fle xe s e lse w h e re, but is in clined to m in im ize its
im p o rta n c e : 'D e a th is a n e g a tiv e , u cessation o f life, but not a p h ysical en em y'
( 3 7 ) , an d 'T h e e lem en tal fo rm o f θάνατος in the I lia 1/ is not as d an g ero u s agent
b u t as d ark c o lo u r' (39). V e r m e u le '* arg u m en t loses fo rce if one accep ts that
th e re is no reaso n to g iv e p reced en ce to the 'e le m e n tal' fo rm o v e r the personal.
5 T h e w o rd 'g o d ' o r 'd iv in it y ' o b v io u sly b egs question s here, b u t there is no
a lte rn a tiv e . S o m e w o u ld d e n y T h a n a to s the n am e o f 0 god on the g ro u n d s that
he h ad no cu lt (sec c .g . W iln m o w itz ( 1 9 3 1 ) , 3 1 5 , fo llo w ed b y D ie tric h (19 6 5 ),
8 8 , an d c f so)- T h is v ie w is u n n e ce ssarily lim itin g , sin ce it assu m es that the
 The Personalities o f Death 233
light o f d ay o n ly at S a rp c d o n ’ s d eath .4 H ere Z eu s com m ands
Apollo to hand the dead hero o v e r to D eath and his b roth er
Sleep, so that th ey can c arry him back to his L ycin n hom e for
burial:
α ύ τ η ρ ίττή ν δ ή τό ν y t λ ίπ η ι ψ υ χ ή τ< κ α ί α ιώ ν ,
ττίμ,τταν μ.ιν Θ ά ν α τό ν τ€ ψ (ρ < ιν κ α ί Ύπνομ,
ί ΐ'ϊ ό κ< δ ή Λ υκ Ιης e v p eiijs δ ή μ ο ν Γ κ ιυ ντα ι,
tvOa i τ α ρ χ ν α ο υ σ ι κ α ο ίγ ι- η τ ο ί τ€ t r a t r e
τ ν ftß iiiι κ α ί σ τ ή λ η ι. (XVI. 4 S 3“ 7)

H om er docs not say w h at D eath docs w hen he arrives (x v i. 667—

83), nor is it clear w hether S a rp e d o n ’s exp erien ce is unlike that
o f other m ortals w hen they d ie .5 H esiod gives us a still m ore
vivid image o f the personal T h an a to s:
το ύ δ ί Ο ιδ η ρ Ιη μ ί ν κ ρ α δ ίη , ^ciAx'foi** δ ί ο ί ή τ ο ρ
ντ)λ€€ς tv a rjjO ta a iv , 8 ' οι* π ρ ώ τ α λ ά β τμ ο ιν
α ν θ ρ ώ π ω ν , Ε χθρό ς St κα ι ά Ο α νά τοισ ι O coiaiv. ( T / ic o g . 7 ^ 4 “ ^ )

T h e key word is λ ά β η ι ο ι ν : this unseen agent seizes o r snatches

the dying m an. W hat docs that m ean? S in c e here w e see
T h an atos in the sam e precise and d etailed con tours as w c
w ould sec any other god , we m ust ask w h eth er that picture
poetic trad ition ab out god h ead is trivial w h e re v e r it d o e s not co in cid e w ith the
practice o f w o rsh ip , and a fra g m e n t o f A e s c h y lu s' N io b e is e n o u gh to cou n ter
it: μο'ι-ο; Otwv γάρ θά να το ί ού Siόρων Ιράι (fr. t i n . I N ) . H e re ceive s n o cult but
he rem ains a go d . albeit a p e cu lia r one. It rem ain s p o ssib le to a rg u e that su ch
evocations arc p u re ly sp e c u la tiv e o r rh e to ric al, like A e s c h y lu s' to 5' ίύτυχ€ίν, |
τ όδ' iv ßporois Beos τ« και Ptoü τΜ ον (C lio . 5 9 -b o ) o r E u r ip id e s ' Or05 γάρ κ ο i τό
γ ιγ ι-JjOKtiv ψίΧανς (H e l. 56 0 ); but the rich n ess o f the H o m e ric evocation o f
T h a n a to s sh ow s that h is p e rso n al id en tity is in te n sely real.
* T h e re is som e e v id e n ce that T h a n a to s ap p eared in p erson else w h e re in
early epic. It is p o ssib le that in the A eth iopis S le e p and D eath carried
M em n o n aw ay in ju s t th e m an n er that they c arry S arp e d o n in the Ilia d .
(S e c Sch o e ck ( 1 9 6 1 : 8), d raw in g on the e vid e n ce o f vase -p ain tin g s and
in clu d in g this am o n g m an y parallels claim ed b etw een the episodes o f
M e m n o n and S a rp e d o n ; b u t c f. also J . I’ ley in H E x v ( i) , s .v . 'M e m n o n ',
(142, fo r the su g g e stio n that he w as carrie d aw ay b y w in d -sp irits. D a v ie s (1 9H9:
5 7 -8 ) is m ore scep tical as to w h ether this o ccu rred in the A eth iopis at all.) It is
also p o ssib le that the sto ries o f κατάβασις an d con flicts w ith I lad es b y H eracles
(esp. V. 3 9 5 -4 0 0 ) an d S is y p h u s ( T h g n . 7 0 2 - 1 2 ; A le . fr. 3 8 A L - P ) existed from
the en rlie st'tim e s in v e rsio n s w h ere th ey fo u gh t T h a n a to s h im self.
’ P o ssib ly the sp ecial p art o f S a r p c d o n 's e xp e rie n ce is m erely that the jo in t
presen ce o f both S le e p an d D eath m akes his end esp ec ially gentle.
234 The Shaping o f M yth
should be projected back onto the θ ά ν α τ ο ς o f ordinary epic
language. H ow docs this snatching or seizing relate to the
visible fact that the dying man falls to the ground nnd loses
consciousness?
A dilferent species o f the sam e question is prom pted by χ η ρ .
T h at word often translates easily enough as ‘ fate’ or 'death'
but it also names a female deity or m onster who roam s the
battlefield and seizes victim s; and as we will sec in detail below,
in rhetorical and allusive language the death that hunts and
captures the dying man is identified as xfjp alm ost as often as
0άι·ατοϊ. O nly once in H om er do we find her explicitly articu­
lated, am ong the strange beings who infest the battle scene on
the Sh ield o f A ch illes:'’
tv δ* "Τ ρ ις , tv h i Π υ δ ο ιμ ο ς ΰ μ ίλ ι or, tv δ ’ ό \ο η Ιΰ ',ρ .
άλλον ζιοό ν ιχ ο υ ο α Μ ούτα το ν, άλλον άοι/rov,
άλλοι· τίΟ νη ιΰτα κ α τ ά μ όθ ον Έλκ* rroöouv.
ίιμ α δ* * χ % άμφ* νόμοιΟι δα φ ο ι κ ο ν α ιμ α τ ι φ<ντώι·.
ω μ ιλ ίν ν Ο* ω$ tc ζωοι ß p o ro i rjö* ίμ ά χ ο ν τ ο ,
νεκ ρ ο ύ ς τ* άλλήλαιι· <ρυον κατατ*Ο ι~ηώ τας. (XVIII. 5 3 5 “ 4 ° )

W ho is this figure who drags the dead and dying across the
plain? Is she present on every H om eric battlefield, or is she
O f this scene lines 5 3 5 - 8 also appear (w ith iOuvtov for ομίλιον in 53 5) in the
H csiatlic S h ie ld o f H era clei ( 15 6 - 9 ) , and in evitab ly each has been condem ned
as an interpolation from the other text (Solm sen (19 6 5 ); L y n n -G e o rg e (19 78);
cf. also L am b e rto n (19 8 8 ), 1 4 1 —4). H ere w e need only onsw er the claim that
the I lia d version is interpolated from the S h ie ld o f H eraclei (L y n n -G e o rg e
( 19 7 8 ) ) . T h e m ain argum en t is the aesthetic one, that these m acabre and gory
d eath -d em on s are fo reign to the sty le o f the Ilia d : fo r exam ple D ietrich 1176 5:
245) d e scrib e s the <njp o f the S h ie ld o f A ch ille s as 'poetic fan cy’ that Macks
reality*. C e rta in ly there is no artistic representation described in H o m er w hich
is qu ite so b aro q u e as this one; but that is e q u ally true o f the S h ield o f Achilles
as a w h ole. In fa v o u r o f accepting the passage as H om eric, w e can a-goe (a)
that the b eh av io u r o f κήρ on the S h ie ld is consistent w ith lerjp in allusive
language th rou gh ou t H o m e r (sec csp. 11. 3 0 2 . 11. 834 = x j. 3 3 2 ; xiv. 207; and
bclosv, pp. 2 4 3 -5 0 ); (b) that the d epiction o f *η}/ι, Έ ρ α . and Kuhoψ ό ; is not un­
H o m e ric in ch aracter, since H om er reg u larly includes such personified agents
am ong the im ages on arm o ur; (r) that in the S h ie ld o f A ch illes itse lf there is a
parallel fo r the appearance o f divine figures w ho w ould not norm ally be visible
to m ortals, since in the siege scene an arm y is led by A rc s and A thena, ώς τ ι
θιιό trip I ά μ φ ΐ ζ ύ ρ ι ζ ή λ ο ι (x v ill. 5 1 8 - 1 9 ) . In effect, the only serious reason that
could be addu ced fo r excisin g the passage is that it is m ore detailed than any
other H o m eric d escrip tio n o f im ages on arm o ur.
 The Personalities o f Death 235
sim ply an exu b eran t poetic invention in the S h ie ld ? F aced w ith
this array o f form s, it w ould be all too easy to d ivo rce the literal
from the figurative, or o rdin ary language from ‘ R e lig io n ’ , so as
to assum e cither that the personal beings arc w h im sical o n e -o ff
inventions or that they arc w alkin g unseen o ver each and e v e ry
battlefield. N eith er o f those altern atives docs ju stic e to the
facts, because across the full range o f H o m eric p o etry the
divinities’ presence is evoked in en dlessly v a ry in g d egrees o f
clarity. A s we w ill see, the plainest and sim p lest evocation o f
death is in the straight narration o f events in thc^poet’s ow n
voice. S h arp e r lines em erge in rhetoric and allu sion , both when
the poet draw s out the m eaning o f past and fu tu re deaths and
when H om er’s characters put the idea o f death into w o rd s;7 and
at times the narrative itself rises to a h igh er plan e, on w hich w e
find ourselves fu lly translated out o f the w o rld o f m ortals and
into one w here these d ivin ities act like an y oth er personal god .
Along this slid ing scale the m ythical w o rld is latent, em erg in g
and receding from scene to scene or even from w o rd to w o rd ,
but as it docs so it follow s a strict visu al lo gic o f its o w n .

Sleep has a fluid personality

Before facing θ ά ν α τ ο ς and κ η ρ h ead-on , it w ill be h elp fu l to
glance at Sleep , J ttios or Ύ π ν ο ς , w h ere the pattern is sim ila r
but the evidence is easier to digest at a glan ce. S le e p som etim es
has the full identity o f a personal d eity ." H e is the b ro th er o f
Death (see xtv. 2 3 1) , both o f them are sons o f N ig h t (as in H es.
Thcog. 2 12 , 756—9),9 and Z eu s sends him alon g w ith D eath in

Ί h is distinction b etw een the lean lan g u age o f the n a rra tiv e an d the h ig h e r
language o f rhetoric w ill be ju stifie d e m p iric a lly , an d it d o e s not d e p e n d on
any theoretical m odel. T h a t said , de jo n g ( ,9 8 7 ) has been u se fu l on the
distinction betw een the vo ice o f the poet, that is the 'p r im a r y n a rra to r-
focalizer and the utteran ces or v ie w p o in ts o f o th e r c h a ra c te rs; b u t I h ave
not found her m odel o f the n arrn tological 'a c c o rd io n · (sec c s p . 3 1 - 6 ) to be
directly ap p licab le to the sh ap in g o f H o m e ric d eath . S e c also G r iffin (.9 8 6 ) ·
and on pathos in H o m eric lan guage see G r iffin (19 8 0 ) ch 4
On the use o f the w o rd s 'g o d ' o r 'd e ity ' h e re , c f. a b o v e ,'n .'3 . In late r tim es
Sleep had a cu lt at T ro e z e n , sh ared w ith the M u s e s (P a u s. 2. 3 1 . 2 - see also

Sl" p “ * ■ " » — ^
’ H riiod apparently i n c l u d « Sleep e „ J D e .,1, lh t b „ od p „ d „ „ d
236 The Shaping o f M yth
attendance on the dead Sarpedon (xvi. 454, 6 67-83). He
com es still m ore to the fore in the story o f the D eception of
Z eu s, w h ere at H e ra 's entreaty he uses his pow ers to put Zeus
to sleep. H ere he talks and intrigues and travels as any
personal god m ight do (xiv. 2 3 0 - 9 1, 3 5 2 -6 2 ), and he recalls
b eing invo lved in a previous quarrel am ong the O lym pians,
d uring H eracles’ return from T r o y (xiv. 2 4 9 -6 2 ).10 T h e crux
is that even w here there is no obvious hint o f a personality,
H o m eric sleep is described not as a state but as an agent.
S le e p arrives to a person, iVrit-ft (1. 6 10 , x. 96; ix. 3 3 3 , etc.) or
tTTTjXvOe (iv. 7 9 3, etc.); it seizes him , a!pet (x. 19 2—3, ix. 372—3,
etc.), μ ά ρ - T c t ( X X I I I . 62, X X IV . 679, etc.), ΐ χ α (it. 2, x. 4, etc.),
the sleeper has been overcom e b y it, δίδμημό·οί (x. 2,
X X I V . 6 78; v ii. 3 18 , etc.); when he awakes it releases him,
αντ)Κ€i< (it. 34, vii. 289, etc.). W hen a god puts someone to
sleep he pours it over the eyes, χ ο /ei (xtv. 16 4 -5 , ii. 395,
b y N ig h t on h er ow n , w ith ou t m ale seed (Theo/·. 2 1 1 - 2 5 ) . A lso , at Tlieog. 758­
66 I-lesiod g ives D eath and Sleep adjoining houses in the deeps o f the earth,
m irro rin g the fam ily and conceptual kinship in spatial term s T h e re is good
reason to thin k that H o m e r too recognizes N ig h t as their m other, note
x iv . 2 58 —6 1 , w h ere S le e p recounts the occasion w hen he w as protected by
N ig h t from the an ger o f Z eu s, and com pare N ig h t’ s identity as 6μ·ήτ€ΐρα Brün­
. . . καί di'Spuh- (XIV. 250 ) w ith that o f Sleep as d raf mil-rail· n OnLv πάντων τ '
ivOptu-niuv (XIV. 2 3 3 ; and cf. XXIV. 4 - 5 , ix. 3 7 2 —3). A com plex reconstruction of
the fam ily and con ceptual relationships o f N igh t and her ch ildren is presented
b y R a m n o u x (19 5 0 ). F ran k el (i9 6 0 : 3 19 —20) analyses H esio d 's account and
h old s that it represen ts independent proto-philosophical thinking rather thun
a naïve trad itio n about anthropom orphic deities. T o support this, he points
ou t that the ch ild ren produced b y N ight on her ow n are all dark and evil
th in gs, w h ile the ch ildren fathered on her b y E reb u s are D ay and B right A ir,
7Υμ//>ΐ) and Αιθήρ (T h eog. 1 1 6 - 2 5 ) . In this w ay, lie argues, in H esiod's
m ythical d iscou rse sexual generation sym bolizes the cotn in g -io-b c o f vital
se lf-m o vin g thin gs.
10 T h e in evitab le question has been posed: I» S le e p 's reference to the
earlier in cid en t invented b y the poet o f the Ilia d , or is S le e p 's appearance in
the D eception sto ry m odelled on the corresponding episode in a pre-H om eric
e p ic o f H eracles? (S e c K u llm an n (19 5 6 ), 30 ; B rasw ell ( 1 9 7 1 ) , 2 2; E tbse
(19 8 6 ), 18 —2 3 ; Jan k o at x iv . 2 5 9 - 6 1.) N o answ er is possible, since each
detail o f the H eracles ep ic in question can only be reconstructed on the
b asis of references in the I lia d and O dyssey, and each such detail can equally
b e dism issed 11s a d hoe m ythological innovation by I lom er. T h e sam e goes for
the appearan ce o f Sleep as an actor in the story o f H eracles' fight with
A lcyo n eu s, w hich is directly attested only in later sources but m ight go
back to the sam e ancient H eracles epic (see K u llm an n , loc. cit.).
 The Personalities o f Death 23 7

xii. 338 . e t c .) ·" S le e p falls on the eyelid s and sits there, Iv l

βλΐφάροιοιν ίττιm tv (ii. 3 q8, etc.) and ίπ ι βλίφάροιαιν ίφ ίζαι*
(X . 26; sim . X. 9 1 - 2 ) ; and it con strains or im m obilizes the
sleeper as it envelops his sigh t, ίπίδηο€ φίλα βλΐφαρ' άμφικαλύ-
φας (xxiii. 17 )· A ll o f this is consistent w ith the action o f a
personal agent, even if that is not articulated on the surface o f
the w ords. .
How do w c m ake sense o f this? G e o ffre y L lo y d 112*has pointed
out that the key to H om eric sleep is in its very m u ltip licity:

N o n e o f th e s e c a n b e c o n s id e r e d th e d e fin it iv e d e s c r i p t io n o f s le e p .
E a c h im a g e illu s t r a t e s th e p h e n o m e n o n u n d e r 11 d if f e r e n t n s p e c t ,
th o u g h e a c h , i f p r e s s e d , w o u ld s e e m to i m p l y a s l i g h t l y d i lf e r e n t
c o n c e p tio n o f th e n a t u r e o f s le e p . . . T h e y s h o u ld b e t r e a t e d a s
c o m p le m e n ta r y r a t h e r th a n a s a lt e r n a t iv e c o n c e p t io n s o f th e s a m e
phenom enon.

Wc can go further. Settin g the o rdin ary language o f sleep

alongside his m ythical personality, we find that the conceptions
arc not m erely com plem en tary but in d istin g u ish ab le.14 In the
everyday world sleep is παι·Βαμάτωρ (x x iv . 4—5; ix. 3 7 2 —3), the
one who conquers all; ad d ressin g the god in perso n , H era calls
him king over m en and god s, άναζ πάντων re θεών πάντων τ ’
ανθρώπων (xiv . 2 3 3 ). Ju st as Sleep and D eath are b roth ers, so a
particularly sound sleep resem bles death, Οανάτωι άγχιατα
ί'οικώς (xiii. 80; and note a m ore elaborate com parison b y
Penelope, xviii. 2 0 1—5 ),15 w hile death in battle is a brazen
sleep, χάλκεον ύπνον (xt. 2 4 t ) .16 T h e link is at once between
two brothers and between two adjacent phenom ena.
T h e continuum between god and phenom enon is borne out

11 H erm es also puts people to sleep with his wand (x x iv . 3 4 3 —5), an

alternative image w h ich does not afTect the m ythical identity o f S lee p proper.
12 (19 6 6 ), 2 0 1 - 9 ; fo r a later d iscu ssio n o f the sam e topic see L lo y d (19 8 7 ),
17 5 - 6 . T h e question is in sep arable from that o f m etaphor in general: sec
L lo yd (19 9 0 ), 14 - 3 8 , and C h . 4 a b o ve , pp. 10 7 - 9 .
11 L lo y d (19 6 6 ), 202
'* T h is is pointed o u t b riclly b y Jo lle s in R E ix ( l) , s .v . 'H y p n o s ’ .
'* C f. A le . fr. 3. 6 1 - 2 P , w ith V erm cu le (19 7 9 ), 1 4 5 - 7 .
19 On this strikin g im age sec M o u lto n (19 7 9 ), 284. It o ccu rs in one o f the
passages in w h ich H o m e r creates a p athetic elfcct in h is ow n voice b y using
allu sive language o f the kind n o rm ally reserved for speeches (sec C h . 6,
pp. 16 9 -7 0 ).
238 The Shaping o f M yth
perfectly in the D eception story, when Sleep describes his own
actions:
y jT o i f yu> μο· tA* ζ α dtor νόον αίγιοχοιο
νηδυμος α μ φ ιχ νθ < (ς. (XIV. 2 5 2 —3 )

T h e Sleep who is speaking identifies h im self precisely with

what was poured, άμφιχνΟ<is, over Z e u s’ eyes: he describes his
own activity with the very verb that H om er m ight use to say
that an ordinary m ortal fell asleep, τόμ ΰπνος ίμαρπτΐ . . . νήδυμος
άμφιχυΟΐίς (χχ ΐΐι. 6 2 -3 ). It had originally been said sim ply that
H era planned to pour sleep over Z eu s' eyes herself,
T cüi δ * ύ π ν ο ι 1ά π ή μ ο νά T f λια ρ όν r t
Χ ·ύ·ηι en·» β λ ίφ ά ρ ο ισ ιν IS i φ ρίο'ι π (υ κ α λ ιμ ·η ια ι ... (XIV. 164—5)
but when she asks Sleep to help her she describes it as his
personal act:
κ α ίμ η α ό ν μ ο ι Ζ-ηια ς νττ' όφρύαιν Saat φ α ΐΐν ιό . (X IV . 236)

L ater, the story-lin e forces the issue o f reconciling the person

w ith the phenom enon. Sleep hides in a tree in the shape o f a
bird, w aiting for the time at which he is to put Zeus to sleep;
Z eus then has his w ay w ith H era and nods off, but o f the
actions o f Sleep h im self we hear only that Z eus is now over­
com e by him , δαμίίς (xiv. 35 3 ). T h is done, Sleep goes o ff to the
battlefield to converse with Poseidon, and says that he has
personally enveloped Z eu s in the darkness o f slum ber:
«τι (voti
Ζ ίύ ς , inti α ν τ ώ i è y ti μ α λ α κ ό ι· π(ρ'ι κ ΰ ιμ ' ίκ ά λ ν /ια . ( j ? 8 —9)

A fter d eliverin g the m essage, Sleep withdraws to his work

am ong m ortals, in i κλντα φϋλ' ανθρώπων (36 1). T h is last detail
m ust m ean that he can be seen in personal terms when he
w orks am ong ordinary m ortals no less than am ong gods: this,
perhaps, is the m ythical m eaning o f the 'gift o f sleep', ΰπνον
δώρον (VU. 4S2).
A ll o f this makes good logical and verbal sense if we accept
the unity un d erlyin g the endless shifts between the levels of
im age-m aking. T h e m ythical personality o f Ύπνος takes shape
only in the light o f H om er’s everyday means o f expressing what
it is to fall asleep, and correspondingly we would rob the
 The Personalities o j Death 239
lan guage o f its m ean in g i f w e so u g h t to e x c lu d e that p e rs o n a lity
from the sim p le st ren d erin g o f w h at h a p p en s w h en so m e o n e
closes his e y e s. T h i s is the p rin c ip le th at m u st in fo rm o u r
approach to d eath . W e can n ot s p lit θάνατος or κηρ in to tw o
parts and call on e an a b strac t n ou n an d the o th e r a p e r ­
son ification : to u n d e rstan d the H o m e ric re a litie s, w e w ill
need to s tu d y h o w in d iv id u a l im ag es take sh a p e in d iffe re n t
w ays on the s h iftin g g ro u n d between those p o la r e x tre m e s.

The descent o f darkness is the experience o f death y

W e begin w ith the plain re n d e rin g o f d eath in the n a rra tiv e o f
the Iliad . 17 T h e e x a m p le s fo rm a m in ia tu re ty p e -s c e n e
s y ste m ,18 and the seq u en ce o f ev e n ts is r ig id ly fix e d . T h e
victor deals the d e c isiv e b lo w ; a w o u n d is in flic ted as it strik e s
hom e; the v ic t im ’s d efeat is in d icated b y o n e o r m o re e x te rn a l
sign s, such as fallin g h e ad lo n g to the g ro u n d ; h e e x p e rie n c e s

17 I f the O dyssey seldom figu res in this section il is sim p ly b ecau se th ere are
not enough deaths in it to pro vid e a good su p p ly o f e xam p le s. W hat e v id e n ce
there is suggests close u n ifo rm ity w ith the p attern s fo u n d in th e o th e r e p ic.
Another way o f sayin g this is that the m ain gro u p o f d eath s in the O d yssey, the
slaughter o f the su ito rs, w as w ritten as an im itatio n o f the d u els o f the I li a d
(see e g. F crn an d ez-G aliu n o (19 9 2 ), 209 , and th rou gh ou t h is notes to O d yssey
xxii).
N ien s (19 8 7 ) is the m ost d etailed s tu d y o f the stru c tu rin g o f H o m e ric
battle scenes. M iens s approach is to d efine the typ ical co m b at scen e as a
sequence o f seven stru ctu ral un its o r 'p a ram e te rs' (see p p . x iii, 2 59 —60 fo r her
program m e), and then to collect all the p o ssib le fo rm u la ic and o th e r e x p r e s ­
sions w hich are em p loyed to fill each o f the seven slo ts. O f these p aram e te rs,
no. 7 is the event o f death as treated in th is ch ap ter. O th e rw ise , the e xte n siv e
literature on H om eric battle scenes is m o stly co n cern ed w ith large n a rrative
structures rather than sm aller un its like those w h ich w e arc try in g to
distinguish here. T h e treatm ent o f F en ik (19 6 8 ) has been e sp e c ia lly u se fu l,
but m ostly on poin ts o f prin cip le: he ad d resses h im s e lf to the o rd e r o f e ven ts
within sequences o f battle rather than to the arran gem en t o f fo rm u laic
m em bers in sin gle even ts o f such a seq u e n ce , so that he d o cs not co n sid e r
i he arrangem ent o f ideas w ith in the line o r lin es w h ich e x p re ss the idea 'lie
d ie d . A g ain . L ataez (19 7 7 ) d eals o n ly w ith large-scale stru ctu res. O n the
sequence o f events in killin gs, there is so m e u sefu l treatm en t b y F rie d ric h
(19 5 6 ), esp. 4 7 - 8 3 ; w h ile M a rg ( 1 9 4 2 ) has a b riefe r but v e ry in cisive su rv e y o f
the patterns o f narration in in d iv id u al deaths. O n the fo rm al stru ctu res c f. also
L etou blon (19 8 3 ). I he data collected in this ch ap te r h ave also b een checked
against G arlan d s su rv e y o f H o m e ric d eath -lan gu age ( 1 9 8 1 ) .
242 The Shaping o f M yth
* V jV
piVas r t ( x v i. 5 0 2 - 3 ; sim . V. 5 5 3 ) . A k in to th is is the slightly
d ifferen t im ag e that so m eth in g is poured o v e r the ey e s: either a
d a rk fo g , K ara S' οφθαλμών κΐχυτ' άχΑύς (XVI. 3 4 4 » sim . x x ii. 88),
o r s im p ly d eath itse lf, άμφί Sé οί θάνατος χότο Ουμοραϊστής
(XII I. 5 4 4 . XVI- 4 * 4 )· E v id e n tly this refers to the clo u d in g of
sig h t at the m om en t c o n sc io u sn e ss is lost— in d eed its tem por­
a ry loss in a sw o o n is ren d ered in the sam e w a y , as covering
(v . 3 1 0 , XI. 3 5 6 , XIV. 4 3 8 - 9 , XXII. 4G6) or p o u rin g (v. 696).
S o far, then , the im a g e ry seem s stra ig h tfo rw a rd : the eyes lose .
th e ir sig h t, d a rk n e ss fa lls, and that is w hat it m eans to d ie. T h is
d a rk n e ss is a clo u d w h ic h c o v e rs o v e r the d y in g m an , or it is
p o u re d o v e r h im like a liq u id , p e rh a p s blo o d d rip p in g dow n his
face, κατ' ooat . . . πορφύρκος θάνατος. C le a rly in these instances
the d a rk n ess is p u re ly n eg a tive and carrie s n o hint o f m ythical
d e v e lo p m e n t. B u t a few o f the fo rm u lae in this g ro u p arc less
s im p le , b e c a u se the clo u d o r m ist or d ark n ess is im agin ed as
a c tiv e ly se iz in g the d y in g m an : hateful d a rk n ess takes him,
στυγΐρος S' apa μιν σκότος tiXt (V. 4 7 , XIII. 6 7 2 = XVI. 607); the
p o rtio n o f b la c k death seizes h im , κ α τ ά μοϊρ' eAaßcv μόλανος
θανάτοιο (x v ii. 3 2 6 ); d a rk death seizes him alo n g his eyes, τον St
κ α τ 'ooat 1 ίλλαβΐ ττορφνρίος θάνατος και μοίρα κραταιή (V . 8 2 —3 ,
x v i. 3 3 3 ~ 4 = ΧΧ· 4 7 6 —7 )· (Maßt, tXaßtv, eiXtv. this suggests
so m e th in g m o re like an assau lt b y an a g g resso r. T h e am b iguity
b e tw een p o u rin g and seizin g recalls w h at w e o b se rved in the
re n d e rin g o f sle e p , w h ere the p erso n al Ύ-ηνος d escrib ed him self
as p o u re d o v e r Z e u s ’ ey es: so that w e seem to be co m in g a little
c lo se r to the ac tio n s o f a p erson al d eity in the v e ry m om en t of
d y in g .2S B u t the su b je c t o f the v e rb o f c o v e rin g -o v e r sr.d
se iz in g is o ften e ith e r a p e rip h ra sis, as tcAoi θανάτοιο (v. 553,
x v i. 5 0 2 , XXII. 3 6 1 ; also in sp eech e s, ix. 4 1 6 , x i. 4 5 1 ) , or a

15 T h e m ist w h ich falls on the sigh t, /(κλικ, is am ong the strange end savage
p e rso n ificatio n s on the H esiod ic S h ie ld a f H eracles (2 6 4 -70 ). T h e re is no
tellin g w h eth er such exotica represent late decadence o f the epic tradition or
stem fro m old trad itio n s w h ich H o m er d raw s on but does not usu ally make
e x p lic it (cf. a b o ve , n. 6).
36 tcAo j in such exp re ssio n s is difficu lt, but m akes m ore sense if w e com pare
it w ith the p attern o f D e a th 's slow approach d iscern ib le in rhetorical language
(see b elo w , p p . 2 4 3 -5 0 ). T h e descent o f darkness on the eyes w ould thus be
the fu lfilm en t, rrAor, o f h is jo u r n e y to his victim . C o m p are τόν 5'ä y t μοίρα χακή
θανάτοιο τ/λοσδ» ( χ ιιι. 6 ο ζ), and also the im age evoked b y n tlpara in ίλϊθρου
ret para (sec b elo w , n. 5 2 ). O n rr'Aoi as fu lfilm ent or acco m plishm en t see
 The Personalities o f Death 243
f
doublet w ith a sin gu lar v erb , θάνατος και μοίρα κραταιη
(V. 83 = X V I. 334. XVI- 855 = xxii- 3 6 1 . xx · 477)·2? T h e s e ro u n d ­
about expressions n atu rally prevent us from fixin g the im age
ns sharply as we do w hen the personal '1 hanatos w alks onto
the stage at S arp ed o n ’s death; but it rem ains sign ifican t that
even at this lean level o f language death can be ren d ered not
only as a negative thing, a n ightfall, b ut also as an extern al
agent who overp ow ers the d yin g m an w hen he is en velop ed in
darkness.
μ
Death approaches and seizes the victim
In his storytelling H o m er seem s u n w illin g to lin ger on the
moment o f death: the leanness o f the im agery perhaps su g gests
a kind o f taboo or ευφημία.2* It is when H o m er goes b eyo n d the
narrative proper that language becom es m ore v iv id and m ore
richly allusive: p rin cip ally when ch aracters m ention the p ro s­
pect o f approaching death, but also w hen the poet h im self looks
along the broad sw eep o f past o r com ing events. Im a g e ry o f
this kind is also occasionally found w hen the poet refers to
death in the negative, by sayin g that a m an w as not killed . H ere
language bodies forth not only the plain fact o f death b u t its
deeper m eaning, and corresp o n d in gly the m ythical elem en t
comes m ore to the fore and death is m ore clearly en visaged as
an assault b y a m ythical ag gresso r.29 A s in the n arrative
llc u b e c k (19 7 2 ) , su ggestin g a co m p le x sch e m e fo r the sp atial re la tio n sh ip s
indicated b y τίλος an d πείρα τα; also M . J . C la rk e (19 9 5 6 ), 3 1 4 —17 .
77 In such d ou blets it is im p o ssib le to tell w h e th e r se p arate im ag es sh o u ld
be assigned to the tw o n ou ns. O n the w o rd s θάνατος καί μοίρα κραταιή (x v t. 8 5 3 ) .
Jan ko (ad loc.) rem arks that ‘death and fate, treated alm o st as s y n o n y m s, are
personified b y the v e rb ’ . T h e sin g u la r v e rb docs not n e ce ssa rily p ro v e that
T hon atos and M o ira are not both p resen t in p erso n . P o e tic a lly , h o w e v e r, a
doublet like θάνατος καί μοίρα fo cuses the m ean in g m o re sh a rp ly than e ith e r
noun could do on its ow n : this is the so rt o f death w h o se in e v ita b ility is in its
nature. W e m ight com p are the p assage (x v t. 849—50 ) in w h ich P a tro c lu s sa y s
that A p o llo , cruel fate (μοϊρ’ όλοι}), and E u p h o rb u s h ave to geth er k ille d h im .
F o r μοίρα as the p artn er o f oth er deities see also c sp . x v t l l. 1 1 9 , x tx . 8 7 , 4 1 0 .
S ee also above, n. 2 3 .
5" C om p are the b o w d le rizin g v o c a b u la ry used o f the se xu al act. In the
n arrative people sim p ly ‘ lie to geth er' o r 'm in g le ', and it is o n ly in the sp e ech o f
his characters that H o m e r is w illin g to sp eak o f se m e n d r ip p in g in to a
w o m an 's w om b (sec C h . 4, p . t t o w ith n. 12 4 ) .
[S e e p. 244 for 11. 2y]
244 The Shaping a f M yth
form ulae, the pattern em erges m ost clearly if w e concentrate
less on the noun than on the verb : death’s personality is
em erging not in name but in actions. T h is means that here as
before w e cast o u r net not only on the sim ple θάνατος and κήρ
b u t also on μοίρα and a few further nouns which arc never fully
personified, notably ολ(θρος, as w ell as doublets and periphrases
such as θάνατος καί πότμος, θανάτοιο τί\ος, θάνατος καί μοίρα
κήρις θανάτοιο.
T h e essence is that a m an docs not go to m eet death, but
rather it is death that com es to meet him . P resum ably this is
rooted in the less easily visualized idea o f his approach through
time,'1" b u t as the details em erge they are pinned on movement
through space. H ector fears that fate is approaching him , vvv
αυτί μ( μοίρα κιχάνα (χ χ ιι. 3° 3)i O dysseus warns that if the gods
are vigilan t the fulfilm ent o f death is approaching Antinous,
Άντίνοον -προ γάμοιο τίλος θανάτοιο κιχ(ιη (xvii. 476; cf. IX. 4 1f>)i a
m an can sec that d cath-an d-fate is on its w ay to the tryst, νύι· αυ
θάνατος καί μοίρα κιχάνα ( X V I I . 4 7 $ = X V II. 0 7 2 = ΧΧΙΙ. 4 3 ^ ) ;
sim ila rly one w arn s another that sheer destruction is
ap p roach in g him , 17 μάλα S j; ae κιχάνιται αίπίις άλΐθρος
(χι. 4 4 1 ) . C orresp o n d in gly, when one courts disaster he is
going out to m eet death,31 Οάνατόνδΐ κιόντα (χχιν. 3 2 8 ), and he
follow s after or accom panies it, θάνατον καί πάτμον ίττίατημ
(ii. 359. XV. 495. ΧΧ· 3 3 7 ί Χ *·ν. 3 Ο. ττυτμον ίπίσττηι (νΐ. 4 12 ,
XXII . 39; >'· 2 5 0 , iii. ι ή , iv. 7 1 4 . x«. >97. 3 7 2 . xxii. 3 1 7 = 4 1 6 ,
x x iv . 4 7 1 ) , Oavteiv καί ττότμον ίνιοττάν (v il. 5 2 ; iv. 1 9 6 , 5 6 2 ,
V . 3 0 8 , xi. 3 8 9 , xii. 3 4 2 , x iv . 2 7 4 , x x iv . 2 2 ). W hen a w arrior is
about to die, D eath is near him , iyyvOtv (xv m . 1 3 3 ): so that
w hen H ector dons the arm our o f Patroclus, Z eu s pities him for
Jl> C f. Λ . L e s k y in R E v a ( i ), s . v . “T h an ato s*. 1 2 4 9 - 5 1 ; D ietrich (19 6 5 ). «07;
E rb se (19 8 6 ), 2 2 - 3 .
50 S p a c e and tim e arc in d istin gu ish able here. N o te the use o f oXtOpiov ήμαρ
(X IX . 29 4, 409 , etc.), αίσιμοι· rjpap ( x x l . to o , etc.), νη\<ίς ημαρ (.XI. 4S4, 5R8,
X III. 5 1 4 , XV. 3 7 5 , x v i i . 5 1 1 , e tc.), and iX iO pov r n lp a τα (ν ι. I 4 3 = xx 429,
v u . 4 0 2 , x i i . 79) in e xp ressio n s v e ry like those w h ich w e collect here. F o r the
sam e a m b ig u ity co m p are also ττρόοθ'άρόων θάνατον (xx. 4 8 1); θάνατος καί κτ}8τ'
όπίοοω I ία ο ιτ α ι (iv. 2 7 0 - t ) . A m an secs the prospect o f a fu tu re death and by
the sam e token sees it approach in g acro ss the field. (O n this am bigu ity
b etw een space and tim e c f. S n ell (19 5 2 ) , 1 7 5 - S 5 .)
11 C o m p a re the p assage w here the god s arc said to call P atro clu s to his
death, Otoi θάνατόνδι κάλταοαν (XVI. 69 3).
 The Personalities o f Death 2 .;s

the death w hich is now m ovin g ever closer to him , σχεδόν elai
(X V II. 2 0 1—2).32 C o rresp o n d in gly, when T elem ach u s reviles the
suitors he threatens to release the agents o f death against
them, κακάς ctti κήρας Ιηλω (ii. 3 16 ), su ggestin g perhaps that
he will unleash them like h o u n d s.33 W hen a w arrio r is in
danger he hopes to flee from the assailant, ευχόμενος θάνατόν re
φυγεΐν και μώΧον slp-ηος ( i1. 40Χ; sim . I . 60, X I . 362 = X X . 449>
XVI. 98, X X I . 66, 10 3 , iv. 78«), X V . 300). O ne in d an ger o f death
considers how to do this, οπα>ς . . . θάνατον και κήρα φύγιυμεν
(χνιΐ. 7 *4! sim . ix. 6 1, 467. xü · *57)· W hen H e ito r is b eing
pursued by A ch illes, H om er asks how he could have evaded
the divinities o f death w ithout A p o llo ’s help: πώς 8c kcv Έκτιορ
κήρας ύπεξόφυγεν Οανάτοια; (χ χ ιι. 202). O d ysseu s in his w rath
tells a suitor that he w ill not escape death, τώ ούκ αν θάνατόν ye
δυσηΧεγέα ττροφΰγοιαθα (xxii. 3 2 5 ); sim ila rly one who gets
divine help w ould not otherw ise h ave m ade his getaw ay
from the K c r, ονύε y a p ουδέ k c v αυτός ΰπέκφυγε κήρα μέΧαιναν
(v. 22, sim . X V I. 6S7).
Since one w ho evades death escapes from these b eings,
ίκφυγε κήρα Or εκφιτ/ε χήρας (iv. 50 2, 5 1 2 , X V . 2 3 5 ; sim .
X V III. 1 17 ), it m akes sense that he can be said to elude their
grasp, ά λ ο ία τ ο κήρα μέΧαιναν (ill. 36 0 = V I I . 254 , X I . 36 0,
XIV. 462), as he runs aw ay from peril, άφ S' έτάριυν els έθνος
έχάζετο κήρ' άλεείνων (ill. 32 = X I . 5 8 5 = X I I I . 566 = X ! I I . 59 6 =
X I I I . 64S = X I V . 4oS = x v i. 8 17 ). T h o se w ho hope to su rv iv e
perils look to the sam e prospect, η κεν άλευάμενοι θάνατον και
κήρα φίγοιμεν (xii. 15 7 ). T o avoid death is to w ard o ff its
agents, θάνατον καί κήρας άλύξαι ( Χ Χ Ι . 565; **. 352 = ν · 3^7.
χνϋ. 547 — Χ *Χ· 5 5 8 , xx ii. 66), sim ilarly κακός από κήρας ά,1ι) ( α ι
(xii. 1 13; xxiii. 33 —· sim . χν. 287). T h e one w ho preserves his
life is w arding o ff the fulfilm ent o f death, τέλος θανάτου
άλεείνων (v. 326 ), or escaping from the K c r, άΧνακων κήρα
μέΧαιναν (xxii. 3 6 3 , 38 2; sim . xxii. 330 ), and a protecting god
M So m e M S S read αχε&όν lo r t, b u t c’ei is m o re v iv id as w ell as b ein g the
m ore difficult readin g from the point o f view o f the p o st-M o m eric tran sm itter
o f the text (see E d w a rd s ad loc.).
A n im age o f the sam e kind ap p e ars w hen H e cto r threatens that he w ill
kill D iom edes b efore lie can go hom e: he w ill 'g iv e the divin ity* to him , πόρος
το* Stupova &utotu (v ilt. 1 66). I f T h a n a to s o r K c r is the δαψ ω ν in qu estio n the
im age at least m akes sen se, but it rem ains d ifficu lt: K ir k (ad loc.) co n sid ers it
'hard to sto m ach '. Z c n o d o lu s em ended to πότρον ίφ ήοω .
246 The Shaping o f M yth
fights nway the K e rc s, κ ή ρ α ς ά;tiirtt (iv. 1 1 , X I I . 402), ju st as he
m ight fight aw ay visib le enem ies. S im ila rly , to save one from
death at the last m om ent is to release him , 0αι·άτοιο δυσηχίoy
("^«ιαΛΰσηι (xv i. 442; also X X . 300). T h e im age is no less vivid
w hen H ephaestus tells T h e tis that he w ishes he could hide her
son from his com ing death w hen its agent arrives:

cu γάρ μιν Οαΐ'άτοίο δνοηχίος ώδί δυναίμην

νόοφιν άττοκρνψαι, J r < μιν μύρος eu ro ? iV o i‘m . (Χ V III. 4 6 4 —5)

A lth ou gh the nam e o f the b rin ger o f death changes even

between two lines, the process w hich this describes is a single
progress b y the assailant or assailants to the v ictim .14
T o die is to be m et at last by these agents o f death. It is such
a m eeting that A ch illes refers to when he says that he w ill suiTcr
death w hen the gods w ill it:

κτ)ρα jS 'i y t ii r o r f δ ίζο μ α ι, όττιτδτ ε Kfv δτ/

Z kvs ίθ (λ τ μ 7</\<σαι α θ ά να το ι 0( ο ΐ άλΑοι. (XVIII. I I 5~ 16)

H om eric δέχομαι docs not denote the kind o f mental process

that we refer to in w oolly E n glish expressions like ‘ I will accept
m y fate’ ; rather it is the physical act o f aw aiting or receiving a
thing or a personal visitor, w ho is very often an enem y coming
to attack one in battle (see e.g. v. 2 2 8 , 2 3 8 , xx . 377). Hence
A ch illes m ust m ean that he is aw aiting a personal encounter
with the agent o f death. S im ila rly when O dysseus is about to
kill a foe he tells him that death has arrived first at the
rendezvous: φ Ο ή a c r é X o s θ α ν ά τ ο ι ο κ ιχ ή μ κ ν ο ν , n v o ' υ τ τα λ υ ς α ^
(XI. 45 0 · Λ* the fatal m om ent μ ο ί ρ α fastens on a dying man,
κ α Ο ίλ η ισ ι (ii. too = iii. 2 3 8 = xix. I 4 5 = xxiv. 1 3 5 ), overcomes
him , «δα’μ α σ σ ε (xxii. 4 1 3 ) , or pins him down, μ ο ί ρ α -n éS rja c
( i v . 5 1 7)-35 W hen a man realizes that death is inevitable he
know s that he w ill be seized, νυν Sé με XaryaXéuu Oavórwi emapro
ά Χ ώ ν α ι (X X I. 2 8 1 = v. 3 1 2 ; sim . x x iv . 3 4 ). But w hat exactly does
this m ean? A n answ er is suggested by an intriguing passage

M Λ/ópoï, w h o is listed b y H esiod am ong the children o f N ig h t ( Theog. 2 1 1 ) .

seem s to be little m ore than a b y -fo rm o f M oira w ith no special identity o f his
ow n (see D ietrich (19 6 5 ), 249, 2 6 0 -7 . 2 7 7 -8 ; E rb se (19 8 6 ), 278 -9 ).
” T h e sam e phrase is less closely identified as the m om ent o f death at
x x tl. 5.
 The Personalities o f Death 247

where A p o llo stands by A g en o r and protects him from death at

A ch illes’ hands: .
trap St ol αύτος
tanj, όπως Ouraroio ßaptias yfipas άλάλκοι. (XXl. 547“ 8)

Allen reads χήρας here, but xcipas is better attested and b etter
suits the context: D eath ’s hands arc reach in g out to seize his
foe.36 1 suspect that the sam e im age is im p lied , even v e ry
distantly, in the n arrative fo rm u la w hich d escrib es the fu lfil­
ment o f death’ coverin g o v e r the d yin g m an: s in c c 'a reAor is
regularly a com pletion or fulfilm en t by en circlem en t, these
words m ay m ean that D e a th ’s hands seize the d yin g m an in a
lethal em brace, re'Aoy θανάτοια κάλυφ(ν I οφθαλμούς ρΐνάς re (sec
above, n. 26).
Certain passages o f excep tio n ally high rh etorical tone b rin g
us still closer to the point at w hich a d ivin e agen t has fu lly
m aterialized on the battlefield. W hen P atroclu s is on his knees
before I lector he sees w ith the u rgen cy o f fo resigh t that
Death is close to his foe:
ov Orjy ονδ* α υ τ ό ς δτ)ρ δ ν β*τ)ί, α-λΛα τ ο i τ]δτ]
ίίγ γ ι TraptaTTjHfv Θ άνατος κ α ι /lofpg κ ρ α τ α ν η .
(XVI. 852-3; sim. XXIV. 1 3 1 - 2 , and cf.
aexiv. 2 9)

14 \tip a t is the vu lgate re ad in g, and κ-ήρας is su p p o rte d b y o n ly one

survivin g M S and the testim on y o f E u sta th iu s. T h e r e is a sim ila r p ro b le m
at I. 97, w here there is som e an cien t a u th o rity fo r the p h rase λ ο ιμ ο ϊο β α ρ ε ία ς
Xtipar (see K ir k ad loc.). F ro m o u r treatm ent th ro u g h o u t th is c h ap te r it w ill be
clear that the im age o f D e a th 's h an d s is co n sisten t w ith tire o v e ra ll p a tte m b u t
is un usually vivid fo r an im age in the stra ig h t n a rrative in the p o e t's ow n
voice. R ich ard so n co m p ares the im age o f the 'm ig h ty h an d o f Z e u s ' at x v . C94—
$, though its role there is to p ro p el M eetor fo rw a rd rath er th an to se ize h im ;
the parallel is clo ser at P atro clu s' d eath , w hen A p o llo s trik e s h im w ith h is
hand and enables E u p h o rb u s to kill h im (XVI. 7 9 1 —2). N o te also the p ic tu re
w hich M elen m akes o f the su ffe rin g s that the w a rrio rs u n d e rg o at the h an d s o f
A rcs, v rr'rlρηος rraAuptxcuv ( ill. 12 8 ).
37 T h e re is som ethin g m ore than h u m an in su ch k n o w le d g e ; the sam e
prophecy recurs w o rd fo r w ord in T h e t is ' lam en t o v e r the co m in g d eath o f
Achilles h im se lf ( x x iv . 13 2 ) . Ja n k o (at x v i. 8 5 2 - 4 ) quotes later C r e e k lite ra tu re
for the b e lie f that m en h ave fo re sig h t at the m om en t o f d eath ; there is no d ire ct
statem ent o f this p rin cip le in M onier.
 24^ The Shaping of M yth
In H ector s final duel with A ch illes, when Athena deserts him
he recognizes that Death is now at hand:
ιί 5^ δ ί Srj κγγνΟ ι μ ο ι Θανατος κα κό ^ ι οΰδ* <τ* ai'CvOa· t
ο ιίδ ' ά λ ίη ·
• . . νυν au re μ* μοίρα κιχάνα. (Χ Χ ΙΙ. 30 0 -3)

S im ila rly , earlier in his w ild career A ch illes rem inds one o f his
v ictim s that death is at hand for them both in this place:
tnt toi xai ίμοι θάνατος καί μοίρα κραταιή. (xxt. i io ; cf. XX. 390)
A g ain , T ir e s ia s prophesies to O dysseus the final advent of
D eath , com in g across the sea to kill him :
θ ά ν α το ς o i τ ο ι ί ξ ά λ ό ί α ύ τώ ι
αβ λτ)χρ ος μ ή λ α τ ο ϊο ς ιλ τ ν ο ίτ α ι , ος κ ΐ θ€ ττιάιντμ
γ ή ρ α ι νπο λ π τ α ρ ώ ι άρημίνον . . . (xi. 134"6; cf. xiii. 5Q—60)
S in ce D eath w ill kill O dysseus, ττίφντμ, he m ust be the agent
rather than m erely the experience o f dying. In an unusual
passage O d ysseu s vises the word aioa— norm ally associated
w ith M o ira in the planning o f death rather than its fulfil-
m en t!R— to nam e the agent o f death who stood by him and
his fo llo w ers w hen they faced death at the hands o f the
C ico n es:
TtJrr δ η p a κ α κ ή Δ ιο ς α ΐο α -παρΐατη
η μ ίν ιιίν ο μ ό ρ ο ιο ιν , Γι·' ιιλ γ ( ΐΐ ττολΑα ττάθοιμτν. ( ιχ . 5 —~ 3 )

T h e w o es, äAyca, in question are presum ably the deaths o f six

m en from each o f O d ysseu s’ ships, w hich follow im m ediately
(ix. 60—1), so that A isa seem s to be fulfilling the role w c have
elsew here seen given to T hanatos.
T h e K e rc s prom p t a few rem arkable im ages in rhetoric
w hich b eg to be read in the light o f the scene m ade explicit
on the S h ield o f A ch illes, w here they roam the battlefield and
drag their victim s hither and thither. W hen Sarped on urges
G la u c u s to the onslaught, he rem inds him that they arc
surrou n d ed by Krjpes who make death inevitable:
νυν 8’ ίμττης γαρ κήρτς ΐφτοτάσιν Οανάτoio
μ υ ρ ία ι, ΰ ϊ ο ν κ coti φ υ γ τ ί ν β ρ ο τ υ ν ο ϋ δ ’ ΰ π α λ υ (α ι. ( χ ΐ ΐ . 3 —f·—7 )

’ * O n αίσα see D ietrich (10 6 5 ), esp. 2 4 9 -* o .

 The Personalities o f Death 249
Perhaps the idea is similar when one in fear for his life is seeing
death before him, π ρ ό α θ ’ ό ρ ό ω ν θ ά ν α τ ο ν (xx. 4 8 1). Similarly,
Idomeneus says that the coward in battle expects to meet the
κήρα of his approaching death:

ci· S c r e o l κ ρ α 8ί η μ τ γ ά λ α c r r c p v o ia i n a r a a a t i
κ ή ρ α ς ο ϊ ο μ ί ι ο η , π ά τ α γ ο ς S i τ € y C y v c r ’ ÓSÓv t w v .

(X III. 2S2-3; Cf. XVII. 381)

Patroclus’ ghost p rod uces a revealin g im age o f the^fulfilm ent o f

death when he tells A ch illes that he cannot return to the land o f
the living because the κήρ o f his fate gaped around hinv,J with
her jaw s when he died:'10

ού p e v γ ά p (toot y c φ ιλ ιο ν än avevO ev ir a lp iu v
β ο ν λ ά ς c ζό μ α Ό ΐ βυνλ< ν α υ μ α ·. JA λ ’ i p i p i v κ ή ρ
Λ μ ·ίι\ α ν · oTvycpT\. ή n ep λ ά χ ί y iy v ö p c v ó v n e p . ( .W ill. 77—g)

By άμφί'χανί, ’ ya w n ed ’ , ‘g a p ed ’ , he m ust m ean that the K c r

opened her m outh to seize him like som e m on strous beast.
Several tim es w e hear that the K e re s carry d yin g men aw ay,
Kjjpes ίβαν Οανάτοιο φίρουααι (ii. 302; x iv . 207), ju st as on the
Shield o f A ch illes they drag the corpses to and fro.
T h is helps to exp lain an other rhetorical im age o f K rjpes.
H ector, in high w a r-fu ry as he nears the pinnacle o f his success
against the G re e k s, hopes that Z eu s w ill enable the A ch acan s to
be expelled for ever from T r o y :

A lth o u gh Λμφίχαν* here is n h a p a x , its sense is cle a r enou gh from

H om er’ s use o f the sim p le v e rb χαή·α>, ‘ to gap e o p e n -m o u th e d ': o f a m an
(xvi. 3 5 0 , 4 0 g ; x ii. 3 5 0 ). o f a ra g in g lion (x x . 16 8 ), ns w ell ns o f the earth
yaw ning open to sw a llo w som eon e up (tv. 18 2 , v i. 2 8 2 , v i ll. 15 0 , x v il. 4 17 ) .
*“ T h is im age is p o te n tially m isle ad in g . W e have noted elsew h ere (C h . 6,
pp. 166—8) that w ith one e xce p tio n (x iv . 2 0 7 - S ) H o m er d ocs not associate the
agents o f death w ith the jo u r n e y to H ades. A t first glan ce the present passage
seems to be an e xce p tio n , w ith P atro clu s im p ly in g that the κήρ o f death is
holding h im fast in H ad e s. F o r e x a m p le , R ich a rd so n (ad loc.) tran slates ‘ a
hateful doom has g a p e d aro u n d m e ' (m y italics). B ut if this w ere c o rre ct, a
perfect or present tense w o u ld be req u ired ; since ό μ φ ϊχ α π is aorist, it m ore
natu rally refers to u sin g le even t in past tim e: κήρ seized P atro clu s in h e r ja w s
and he d iid . T h u s the κήρ in q u estio n is the death w h ich seized P atro clu s on
the field o f b attle before he m ad e his w ay to H ad e s, w ith no con n ection im p lied
betw een the tw o e v e n ts. C f. n. 6 j b elow .
250 The Shaping of Myth
«ϋ χο μ α ι iX n iptiD f Δ ι ( τ ’ άλλοιαίν re Ototaiv
ίζ ίλ ά α ν ivO tvSt y t V a s κ ΐ)ρ ια σ ιφ ο ρ ή τ ο ν ς ,
οΰς κ ή ρ (ς φ η ρ του α ι pcAunaaii· i n t ι-τμΐη·. (VI11. 526-8)

T h e last line unpacks the hard adjective κηρίασιφορήτους,41*4and

the m eaning has been taken to be that the A chacans have been
draw n o r carried b y κήρις on their m urderous voyage to T r o y / 1
But such an im age would be very unusual: nowhere else do
xi)pes bring about their w ork o f slaughter by actively sending
hum an adversaries to m ake w ar on each other. A lthough the
verb φορΐω can refer to carryin g som ething as one m ight carry
m en on a ship, it is also found in a frequentative sense, meaning
to drag or carry som ething hither and th ith e r/ 3 T h u s we can
take the adjective as predicative: Z eu s, or H ector acting on his
behalf, will set the Achacans to flight, e£cAaae, to be slain and
thus to be seized and dragged aw ay b y the Krjpcs o f death. Since
H ector is speaking during a break in the fighting, the present
tense o f the last line is part o f the vividness o f the prophecy:
H ector suggests that on the eve o f the slaughter the K eres are
already roam ing am ong the Achacans in their camp beside the
ships, ènl νηών, ju st as elsewhere men go to battle despite
prophecy o f disaster because they arc already being dragged
aw ay, κήρ(ς γάρ άγον μέλανος Οανάτοιο (ιι. 834)· H ector’s rhetoric
is a less vivid version than what is depicted on the Shield of
A chilles, but it springs from the same underlying conception o f
death.

41 It is a reasonable guess (Z en odotu s, A ristarchu s, and K irk ad loc.; on the

an cien ts’ view s o f the lines see N ickau (19 7 7 ), 12 7 -8 ), that 528 is a post-
H o m cric in terpolation originatin g as a gloss on the difficult κηριΰσιφορ^τονς o f
5 2 7 . I f this is the case it docs not affect our interpretation one w ay or the
other, sin ce the gloss sheds no light on the m eaning o f the carrying or
d raggin g.
41 S e e L . M alten in R E S u p p l. iv. 887: E rb se (19 8 6 ), 28 2 , w ith fu rther refs.
4> C f. S illie r (19 9 5 )· §468. 2 . T h e adjective φ οριροί is not attested elsewhere
in H om er, but given the frequentative sense o f the parent verb it w ill describe
som ething as dragged about hither and thither. It is found in later verse in this
sense (see Pind. fr. 3 3 d . 1 M ),
44 F o r M m eaning ’close to, alongside' rather than 'o n ' see c.g. χ ν ιιι, 557,
X X I I . 1 5 3 , i. 18 s , ix. 14 0 , etc., and note μτΛαιΐ'ά<υι> in i νη<1
>ι· (v. 700) in the sense
'to the area beside the ships*.
 The Personalities o f Death 25»

The planning of fate leads to death's fulfilment

All these im ages arc draw n out in contexts o f esp ecially inten se
and dram atic em otion, w here H o m e r’s su p p le aesthetic allo w s
him to forsake the leanness o f the plain n arrative and rise close
to the highest level o f articulation. W e saw that in rhetoric and
in the leaner language o f n arrative the different agents o f death
could not be clearly d istin gu ish ed from each other. H o w e v e r,
when they em erge m ore fu lly into the lim eligh t they take on
distinct individual roles and identities. In p articu lar μοίρα and
κήρ (along w ith πότμος, αΐσα, and otVoj45) d iffer from Οανατος in
that they arc responsible not o n ly fo r death but also fo r the
planning o f m an’s fate at his birth and its execu tio n th rough out
his life.46 On one perspective, o u r w o rd s are the nam es o f
divinities w ho have spun out m a n ’s fate as thread from the
moment o f his birth, as H ecuba puts it w hen sh e urges P riam
to accept that it is inevitab le that the dead H ecto r w ill be
mutilated:
r a il S ’ ιΖ ς ττοθι Μ ο ίρ α κ ρ α τ α ιή
γ ιγ ν ο μ ίν ιο ι CTTcirqac λινυυι, o re μ ιν τ ικ ο ν α ν τ ίj,
ά ρ γ ίπ ο δ α ς κότας άσαι (ώ ι· ά π ά ι·(υΟ ι τοκτμιιν. (XXIV. 2 0 ()—l ΐ)

We find the sam e im age elsew here with αιαα (xx . 1 2 7 —8) and
a la a. . . κλώθές tc βαρΐίαι (vii. 19 6 —8) instead o f μοίρα; once
again, the conception is constant even w hen the agents h ave
different nam es.4' T h e im age o f spin n in g itse lf is an other
exam ple o f the problem o f language and m yth . F ro m the
angle o f ‘R e lig io n ’ it could be seen as p art o f a co m p lex
belief about fate and the deities respon sib le fo r it;48 b u t in
“ σίτος in H o m e r usu ally b u t not a lw a y s refers to death in p a rticu la r, as the
fulfilm ent o f one s fate: Ol rev 5TJ .'ΠΑ'οι ofroV* clΐ'αττΛrjc a !'τ<5 oAoiirat
(v m . 34 = 35 4 = 4 6 5). O n one occasion those w h o h a v e d ied have fo llo w ed
it. ίπ ίο π ο ν (iii. 13 4 ) , as one m igh t fo llo w Odtaros o r πότμ ος. O n oitos see
D ietrich (19 6 5 ), 2 7 2 - 3 ; E rb se (19 8 6 ), 2S0 .
44 A full treatment o f the divinities o f fate would be out o f place here. On
the group as a whole, the most useful studies have been those o f Pötscher
<1960), Dietrich (19 6 5 ), and Erbse (19 8 6 ), 2 7 3 —86. T h e m ain concern o f these
scholars is with the relationship between the will o f the gods and the divinities
of fate, which is not relevant to this study.
47 O n these passages see E rb se (19 8 6 ), 2 78 .
" S ee D ietrich (19 6 5 ). 2 8 9 -9 6 . H esiod assign s person al n am es an d id e n ­
tities to three M o ira i. but g ive s them d iffe re n t paren tage in d iffe re n t passages
2 52 The Shaping o f M yth
the m ost m u n d an e H o m eric language a plot o r a plan is spun or
w o ven in the th o u gh ts, ύφαίΐ’ίΐν or ράπταν, so that the idea of
M o ira or A isa sp in n in g o n e’ s future fate like a thread might
sim p ly be a realization o f this idea on the plane o f m yth .4’' In
th is w a y the sp in n in g o f fate is another exam ple o f a conception
w h ich is b ro u gh t to birth at d ifferen t tim es on different levels
fro m the m ost ordinary' language to the m ythical shap in g of
p erson al agents.
It is difficult to be sure about the relationship between the
spinning of fate and the final fulfilment of death. T o die is to
complete one’s fate, often ττότμοι· αΐ'αττλησπι*, but ττότ/ior may
also be the death to which one is being brought (e.g. xvni. 96).50
( T h eo g . 2 1 8 —19 , 9 0 4 —6 ). It is im p o ssib le to tell w h e th e r H om er is looking to
a n y su ch p re cise lo re ab o u t them . O ne o f H e sio d 's M o irai is called KXutOώ,
fro m th e actio n o f sp in n in g itse lf; H o m e r nam es the sp in n ers as a 'o a ΗλιΰΟίς τι
ßtiptiai (v ii. I9 7 ) ·
4,1 N o te κακά (ιάφηι fo r H e ra 's sch em in g against the T ro ja n s (.w in . 367), the
s u ito rs ' p lo ts (x v i. 4 2 1 —3), and the plans that led to the m aking o f the T ro ja n
H o rs e (iii. 1 1 8 ) , to ge th e r w ith the noun κηκορρηφίη in the equ ivalen t sense
(x v . 16; ii. 23(1, x ii. 26); φόνον at'irilr ρ ΰ τττο ρ ιv o f the suitors* plot against
T e le m a c h u s (x v i. 37 9 ); rrvKiróv SoAm· . . . v^ aiw (vt. 18 7 ), o f P roetu s schem ing
a g ain st B e lle ro p h o n ; π άντα ί Si δόΛου; καί μήτιι· v^aieov (ix. 4 2 2 ). O d ysseu s on
h is stratag e m s n gainst P o ly p h e m u s; μ ήτιν ΰφαινον o f the su ito rs' p lo ts (iv. 678),
an d s im ila rly ΰ φ α ίνιιι· ή ρ χ ττο μ ή τιν ( ν ιι. 3 2 4 = *Χ· 9 3). in trod u cin g speeches of
p o lic y b y N e s to r (see also iv . 739. aeiii. 3° 3· 3 Sfty; again μ η rit μοι νφαΐνηιοιν
Άόλον a i r t I άβηιάτω ν (ν. O d y sse u s' fear o f fu rth er pun ish m en t by
h o stile go d s. It is w o rth co m p arin g the sp in n in g o f plots w ith the story o f
P e n e lo p e 's loom (ii. 9 3 - 1 to . x ix . t37-5f> . x x iv . 12 8 -4 8 ), w hich can be seen ns a
w o rk in g -o u t o f the sam e sim p le idea into a self-con tain ed n arrative; to make
c u n n in g p lo ts is to w e a v e , an d P e n e lo p e 's stratagem is the act o f cu n n in g par
excellence. (O n this su g g e stio n sec U usso at x ix . 1 3 7 , on ‘ her literal actions
p a ra lle lin g h er m etap h o rical d e scrip tio n '; also H cu b eck at x x iv . 12 S -9 .)
F u r th e r , the v e rb Ιτηκλΰιθπν is used o f the g o d s' action s in p lan n in g or
w o rk in g out the e x p e rie n c e s— u su ally su ffe rin g s— o f m ortals, esp ecially in
the O d ystey (see x x iv . 5 2 s ; i. 17 , iii. 20 8 , iv. 20S, viii. S 79. x i. 139. x v i. 64,
XX. 19 6 ). C an w c tell w h e th e r the use o f this ve rb im plies the fu ll im age o f the
sp in n in g o f fate? A c h ille s uses the ve rb w hen he states the p rin cip le that the
g o d s b rin g ab out su ffe rin g fo r m ortals, ίιτοΐΛ ώ σαπο (hoi διιΛοισι βροτοΓσι |
ζώ ο ι· α χ ν υ μ ίτ ο ΐΐ (XXIV. 5 2 5 “ *·). but goes on to exp lain this (yap, 52 7 ) not by
e x te n d in g an im age o f sp in n in g b u t b y recou n tin g the sto ry o f the three jars
fro m w h ich Z e u s doles out good und evil (5 2 7 —5 1) . U n less A c h ille s' language
is o d d ly d isjo in te d in this sequence o f ideas, this is enou gh to su ggest that the
v e rb iirivAwOni' has not been enough in itse lf to p ro m p t the im age that the
e x p e rie n ce s o f m o rtals arc spun.
5" In the case o f /roijm, D ietrich (19 6 5 : 5 9 -9 0 , 1 9 4 - 2 3 1 ) arg u es that M oira
 The Personalities o f Death 253
T h e gap is b rid g ed w h en M o ira , K e r , and others are seen
neither as plann ing n or as k illin g but as d raw in g a m an on
towards death: τόκ S’ aye μ ο ί ρ α κ α κ ή θ α ι ·ά τ ο ιο reXoaSe (XIU. 602;
sim. V. 6 1 3 - 1 4 ) . Fate d raw s a m an to his end b y launching him
against an opponent w h o is su re to w in:
Τ λ η π όλ ιμ α ν 8’ Ή ρ α κ λ ί ΐ Β η ν . rjuw τ t μ ί γ α ν r t .
w£c£v I t * avTiOiuji ΣαρΐΓτ)8οΐ'ΐ μοίρα κραταιΐ). (v. 62S—9)
Again, P atroclu s' shade m erges the two roles o f the agent o f
fate when he says that the κ ή ρ w ho seized him in death had
already assigned h erself to him at b irth , ή i u p λ α χ ΐ γ ι γ ν ό μ ί ν ό ν
rrep (x x iti. 7 8 -9 ). T h e pattern is the sam e w hen A ch illes
represents the choice betw een life and g lo ry as the choice to
be brought to death b y one κ ή ρ rath er than an oth er:5'
μ ή τ η ρ γ ά ρ r t μ< φ·ηαι 6f a Q tT is ά ρ γ ν ρ ό π ί ζ α
8 ιχβα8ΐας κ ή ρ α · ; φ < ρ ί μ * * Onw tro io r lX o a h t . f i x . 4 1 0 —l l )

A t the scene o f death the K c r c s seize victim s and d rag them

away; here, in a distinct im age, th ey d raw a m an towards his
death.

The same names ca>i he used tuithunt mythical import

It is im possible to tell w h eth er the full co m p lexity o f the role
o f K c re s and M o ira as plann ers is im plied every tim e their
names em erge: and in the case o f death proper the language is
still m ore difficult to read. E v en w hen rh eto ric and allusion
clothes death in shapes very close to those o f fully-fledged
m yth, there is no telling w h eth er the m ythical agents are fu lly
present each and every tim e their nam es are used. T h e im agery
is fluid, im m anent, allu d in g o b liq u ely to som ething w hich is
perhaps unknow able from H o m e r's point o f view as well as
ours. T w o things in particular w arn us against reading our
im ages w ith too rigid a sense o f personification. F irst, the

or the M oirui w ere o rig in ally go d d esses o f death an d o n ly later cam e to b e

associated w ith the p lan n in g o f fate at b irth (see also E r b s e (19 8 6 ). 2 7 4 -9 ). O n
the relation sh ip b etw een κήρ as death an d κήρ as fate, sec also N ilsso n (19 6 7 ).
2 2 2 -5. ·
51 T h e r e is a sim ilar im age o f tw in idjprr, one o f death and one o f old age, at
M im n . fr. 2. 5 - 7 \V ; cf. also .-Itlrsp. l\leg . 14 \V , o f un gu cssab le date.
254 7 Yic Shaping o f M yth

names of the dillcrcnt agents alternate freely, even within n

single scene, and the repertoire includes examples involving
nouns which have no known personal identity in myth, notably
6\ ( 0p o i Si and φ όνος. Secondly, there arc some expressions with
θάνατο? and κ ή ρ which draw up images irreconcilable with the
personal ones. When Achilles accuses Agamemnon of shrink­
ing from danger in battle he says simply that the king knows
this is death, to Bé rot κ ή ρ « Γ δ ίτ α ι eTrat (t. 228). Murderous men
bring death with them, φ ό ν ο ν κ α ι κ ή ρ α φ ό ρ ο ν ree (11. 3 5 2· I I I . 6;
iv. 273). as even a fisherman's line docs to his prey (xxiv. 82).
Death must be something abstract or intangible when a man
scheming against another is said to plant or establish his death,
φ ό ν ο ν κ α ι χ ή ρ α φ υ τ ( ύ ( ΐ (ii. 165, xvii. 82),5'1 or θ ά ν α τ ο ν κ α ι κ ή ρ ’
ά ρ α ρ ό ν τ ί (xvi. 1 69; sim. xxiv. Ι 5 3 )ι ΟΓ θ ά ν α τ ο ν μ η τ ίσ ο μ α ι
(xv. 349)· Likewise when one brings about another's death it
has been made or wrought, θ ά ν α τ ο ς κ α ί μ ο ίρ α τ ί τ υ κ τ α ι (tu. tot),
and a killer can boast to his victim that he will ‘forge' or
‘fashion’ the κ ή ρ of his death, aol 5 ’ ί γ ω évO óSt φ η μ ι φ ό ν ο ν κ α ί
κ ή ρ α μ ό λ α ιν α ν \ ί ξ è/xe0ei< τ ε ύ ξ ί ο θ α ι (ν. 652-3; sim. χί. 4°9» XX. i ι ,
χχϋ. 14). Death must be no more than an abstract event in time
1 SXtOpot carries an interesting im age with it. D eath is like a snare or hond
cast on the d yin g m an, ολίθρου n tip a r' ΐφήπται (v u . 402, XU. 79; χ χ ϋ . 3 3 , 41),
and he w alks into the snare if he risks his life in foolish audacity
(v i. 14 3 = XX. 429). T h is im age is norm ally separate from the spatial npproach
o f death as an attacker, though once the tw o seem to com bine in a new context
w hen Poseid o n describes a peril about to be undergone b y O dysseus as p i /a
ntipap οΐζνος, ή μ ιν iVéixt (ν. 288—9). ‘H ic m eaning o f this im age o f 5.\r*?ooe
becom es clear in the light o f oth er uses o f ntipap. T h e most elaborate exam ple
is w hen Z e u s and Poseidon exercise their pow ers in favou r o f T t o ;anx and
G re e k s re sp ectively, and the fo rce o f their intluenccs is seen a? a Send
stretched o v er the stru gglin g hosts: τοί (sc. the txvo gods] S* fo-.iot «-oar.g-is
καί ομοιΐον τττολίμοιο J ntipap ίπαλλάζαντΐς i n ’ αμφοτίραιαι τάννσοαν {X lll j —·:;
c f. X IV . 3 8 9 - 9 · · w ith x v . 4 1 0 - 1 3 ) . S im ilarly, M enelaus elsew here s a y s that the
god s hove tile pow er to decide w ho w ill w in , νίκης ττ«ι'ρατ' ίχθΓ-α. iv dtfardioici
fitoiau’ (v it. 10 2 ). T h e se im ages o f binding m ake sense in the light o f OMtr.bier
senses o f n tip ara as spatial lim its o r boundaries— o f earth (v ill. 475- 9. x iv . 207,
3 0 t ; iv. 56 3), o f O cean (xi. 13 ) , o f an island (ix. 2 8 3 -4 ), or o f a parcel o f lan J
(x v u i. 5 0 1)— as w ell as literal ropes used to tie a m an dow n (xii. 5 1 , 16 2 , 179).
F o r this an alysis o f iXtBpov ntipara see O nians ( 1 9 5 1 : 3 1 0 —42), ond cf. the
m ore ab stract an alyses by N o th d u rft (19 7 8 ) and lie u b e c k (19 7 2 ), w hich treat
m ore fu lly o f certain m ore difficult uses o f ntipap in oth er contexts.
51 T h is im age seem s to take olT from χάνοι· ^urnito· and sim ilar (xv. 134:
ν. 340, x iv . 1 10 , etc.). S ee F crn an d ez-G alian o at x x ii. 14 .
 The Personalities o f Death 255

when it is said to happen, θάνατον . . . ytviaOat ( X I X . 2 7 4 )1

when people are saved out o f it, ύπίκ Οανάτοιο φίρονται (xv. 628;
sim. X X I I . 17 5 , iv. 7 5 3 , ix. 63 = s6 6 = x. 13 4 ), or w hen its
fulfilm ent is appointed o r ordain ed fo r a given m om ent,
Οανάτοιο τίλυς ττΐπρωμίνον ίστίν ( l i l . 3° 9ϊ sim . X I . 443)» ΟΓ
prophesied, θάνατον /lavrevcai (χιχ. 4 20)ι or w h en the go d s
plan som eone’s death, φράοοαντ' αθάνατοι θάνατον καί κήρα
μίλαιναν (iit. 2 4 2 ; sim . x x iv . 1 2 7 ). A m o n ster’s ja w s arc full o f
death, πλτϊοι μίληνός Οανάτοιο (xii. 9 2 )· O ne w ho know s that he
will die at T r o y is eu f ίδιας κήρ' όλοήν (X lll. 665; sirrj. ii. 28 3). A t
such tim es the personal id entities o f the agents o f death m ust
be forgotten if the w ords arc to m ake sense. T h is is en ough to
show that it is possible for personification to be denied fu lly , in
rhetoric as well as in n arrative, and co n seq u en tly that the
m ythical identities o f κήρ and θάνατος arc not n ecessarily
invoked on any given occasion w hen these n ouns ap pear.
A few particularly revealin g passages show that the personal
identities o f K c rc s can be b yp assed w hen ideas o f death are
articulated along other avenues o f im age-m ak in g. A ch oice
between two κήρίς need not be im agined as two b eings p u llin g
towards different deaths, as A ch illes sees it (ix. 4 1 0 —i t ) , but
sim ply as two different events, as O d ysseus says w hen he asks
his m other’s shade how she died:
τ ίς r ii a c κήρ ίδ ά μ α σ at r a n jA fy io s Ο α ν ά τ ο ιο ;
’) δ ο λ ι χ ή ν ο ύ σ ο ς , ή Ά ρ τ ι μ ι ς ί ο χ ί α ι ρ α
ο ις ά γ α ν ο ϊς β ι λ ί ι ο α ι ν ί π ο ι χ ο μ ί ν η κ α τ ί- π ιφ ν ιυ ; ( χ ϊ. 1 7 Ι —3 )

The fact that a κ ή ρ is potentially a personal divinity does not

obtrude on Odysseus’ thought when he follows a different
thread and imagines a gentle death as the advent of Artemis.
Similarly, the familiar shapes of the Keres arc irrelevant to the
famous scenes where Zeus decides the outcome of combat by
weighing Keres in the pans of a balance— once to decide the
issue of a battle (vm. 6 9 - 7 4 ) , and once to seal H ector’s fate in
h.s final duel with Achilles (xxn. 2 0 9 -13)·“ In the case of

mnmrn»C α/ ° α (ΧΛ'ν 428’ 75o) Sccms to rcfcr temporal

Z Z Z l T 't “ h" " ....... .. more usual seme,
** A I.houR h there ore close ve rb a l co rre sp o n d e n c es b etw e e n these tw o
c.Kh,nRs. they are not .d en tical: the first d e te rm in e s w h ich o f the tw o
2 56 The Shaping o f M yth
I le c to r and A c h ille s, the p ro sp ects o f their tw o deaths, Silo κήρ(
ταιηηλ(γίος Οανάτοιο, are set in the balance and H ecto r’ s sinks
d o w n : th is is identified w ith the certainty that his death is now
fixe d , pcnc δ’ EtfTopos αΓσιμοκ ή/mp, and that alread y his journ ey
to death has been set in m otion, ώιχ-tro δ ’ o s ;ΐΐδ α ο .50 In the
o th e r p assage, w h en it is the κήρ((ς) o f the tw o arm ies that are
w e ig h e d , the result is exp lain ed in m ore d etail: the /djpes o f the
A c h a e a n s settle on the earth, cut χθονί πουλοβοτίίρτμ 1 ΐζίοΟην,
w h ile those o f the T ro ja n s are lifted up into the air.37 As
a lre a d y su g gested in C h ap ter i , the logic o f this im age lies in
the id ea o f u n certain ty, the tw o prospects poised and ready to
fall one w a y o r the other. T h e m ythical id entity o f terjpes as
d e ath -g o d d e sses is at b est tangential to the im age, which
d ep en d s sim p ly on the idea o f tw o decisions or events being
realized as w eigh ts in the pans o f the balance. T h e se scenes
rem in d u s m o re fo rcefu lly than any others that som etim es the
poten tial fo r len d in g personality to terjp can be bypassed
e n tire ly , even on the level o f a fully-fledged m ythical narrative
w h ere Z e u s in person sits as stew ard o ver the battlefield.
W h at w e have seen is an en dlessly fluid relationship between
hosts will Rain the upper hand in a single battle, but the second decides which
o f the tw o heroes will he killed. Note that other references to the τιίλαιτα of
Z eu s (xvt. 6 58 , XIX. 2 2 3 —4) imply that the weighing determines what is in store
for the entire arm ies rather than for two individual opponents. Compare also
the echo in ή ρ ίι· a l n i r 5.\t0por in ip p iirrp (xtv. 9 9 ). a phrase which evokes the
prospect o f defeat with the same verb but does not specify the scales of a
balance.
T h u s K irk nd loc.
” T h is reconstruction remains very doubtful, since there arc problems
with the text o f vu t. 7 0 - 4 . First the dual number is used. Silo rijp e (70),
evidently one for each o f the two hosts; but then the Achaeans have plural
r i jp e r ( 7 j ) , taking a dual verb Ι ζ ίο Ο η ν (74), with ΐ ζ ι ο Ο ι ν as an ancient v a r i a
le c t in . Th ro u gh o u t Hom er rr jp seems to be used indiscriminately in singular
and plural across different passages, but we have a right to expect consistency
within this one image; and although Homer often tends to slip between dual
and plural in the sequence of a single sentence, this is not enough to explain
the shift from &ΰη κ ή ρ ί to two groups o f several rijper. T h ere is evidence that
the dual number is sometimes used o f two groups, or on individual and a
group, rather than a pair of individuals (see 11. 1 2 3 - 4 , V. 4 8 7 , v m . 1 8 5 - 6 ,
XXIII. 4 1 3 , with Hainsworth nt IX. 1 8 2 ; and Chuntrainc ( 1 9 4 2 ) , ii. 2 7 - 8 ) , but it
would strain credulity to extend this to the numher 'two* itself and take the
words δύο «»"/pc as referring to two groups. Aristarchus athetized 7 3 - 4 , hut
K irk (ad loc.) prefers enution.
 The Personalities o f Death 257

the form s o f lan gu age an d those o f m yth . E ach w o rd θανατος,

μοίρα, αισα— can g iv e b irth to an en d less d ifferen t range o f
im ages on ev e ry level from the sim p est d escrip tio n o f v isib le
things to the fu lly-fle d g ed articu latio n o f the un seen w o rld o f
the gods. In each instance the im age is a fun ctio n o f its co n text:
the personal d ivin itie s are em ergen t, not crystallized or defined
hy a doctrine or a strict d efin ition o f the referen ts o f their
nam es, and across the p lan n in g o f fate and the fu lfilm en t o f
death they em erge in d ifferen t w a y s and in d ifferen t d egrees o f
clarity. y

Death comes from the arrows o f Artemis and A pollo

In each o f the n oun s that w e h ave o b serv ed , the scale o f
m ythical d evelo pm en t b egin s· w ith a sim p le n oun — θάνατο?,
KTjp, μοίρα, death, cu ttin g, p o rtio n — and b u ild s up b y p r o g r e s ­
sive stages to the point at w h ich it is separated an d b eco m es a
fully-fledged d ivin e p erso n ality. T o com plete the p ic tu re , there
is another pattern o f d e ath -im ag ery that w o rk s in the o p p o site
direction, b egin n in g from the id en tities o f p erso n al O ly m p ia n
gods and recedin g into the v a g u e r sh ap es o f rh eto ric and
allusion. O n this pattern certain kin d s o f death arc attrib u ted
to the arch er-go d s A p o llo and A r te m is .SK A lth o u g h n oun s su ch
as θάνατοί or kt\p m ay refer to these d eath s, the c o rresp o n d in g
personal agents arc irrelevan t, and the arc h cr-g o d s replace
them in m uch the sam e w ay as H erm es the g iv e r o f sleep
(xx iv . 3 4 3 - 4 ; v . 4 7 -8 , x x iv . 3 —4 etc.) is su b stitu ted fo r S le e p ,
Ύπνο?, him self.
T h e origins o f this myth or m otif arc doubtful. Neither Apollo nor
Artemis is a deity o f death in any othev contexts; and it is possible either that
both became associated with death hy archery for different reasons, or that an
attribute of one of them has been transferred to the other twin. Artem is may
have taken on the role because she is a huntress, or because she is associated
with death in the pangs of childbirth (see e.g. Nilsson (19 6 7 ), 4 8 2 ; Hoekstra
on XV. 4 1 t ) ; such a connection is nowhere explicit in Homer, hut is perhaps
suggested b y xxi. 4 8 3 —4. G iven the com plex syncretism that seems to lie
behind Apollo’ s many aspects, it is very possible that his death-dealing role
originated with oriental deities such as the Sem itic Rcshcp (sec e.g. Schrcttcr
(19 74 ), 1 7 4 - 2 1 5 ; Uurkcrt (19 8 5 ), 1 4 5 - 7 ) . On the other hand, H om er’ s Apollo
is the patron o f archery in all its uses, so that his role as the one who shoots
from afar, ίκΰιμ/ο:, might have been enough to associate him with death of
arrowlike swiftness.
258 The Shaping of M yth
T o die from the arrows o f A pollo and A rtem is is to die
sw iftly or peacefully or both.S9 O bserve again how Odysseus
asks his m other’s shade whether her death was a slow sickness
or a sw ift shot from A rtem is' painless arrow s:

rj δ ο λ ιχ ή ι-οΰοος, rj Plprr/iir I'oycmpa

01C d y a io i'r ß tX ctooiv ΐ π ο ιχ ο μ ίν η κ α τ ί π ι φ π ν ; ( x i. 1 7 2 —3)

A gain, N estor recalls the sudden death o f his helm sm an as an

attack by A p o llo ’s arrows, ots ayavots ßtXiiaaiv (iii. 279—80), and
Eum acus describes the sudden death o f his nurse in the same
way (xv. 4 7 7 —8). T h e re is an obvious contrast between this
conception and the pattern which w e have sketched for the
assault o f Thnnntos and his associates. T h e y approach one
slow ly and stealthily through the m ounting perils o f battle, or
with the gro w in g inevitability o f a fated end, but a sw ift or a
peaceful death com es as what an English-speakcr (coinciden­
tally) m ight call a bolt out o f the blue.
A pollo the killer steps onto the stage more fully in the
episode o f the Plague in Iliad I, when he deals out sudden
death am ong the A chacans: he goes unseen like nightfall, νυκτί
(οικώς (i. 46—7), but the arrow s rattle in his quiver, and he is
present as fully and v ivid ly as any other O lym pian interfering
on the battlefield. In the same w ay he fights with bow and
arrow s in the Theom nchy (xx. 68). But in the normal course of
story-telling, shooting by the gods is found only in the
language o f speeches, rem iniscences, or reflections, where H o­
m eric characters express the deeper meaning o f a sw ift or
” Schretter (19 7 4 : 1 7 4 - 2 1 5 ) uses his analysis of the syncretism o f Apollo
and Reshep to distinguish sharply between two types of killing by A pollo: on
the one hand the sudden death which he delivers with his «ojAa (1. 53 , 383)
when he kills the Achacans in the Plague episode, and on the other the gentle
death which comes through his ayaroir /JrAccaoi (see esp. xxtv. 7 5 8 -9 , xi. 17 2 ­
3. xv. 4 0 9 - 1 1 ) . Noting that Reshep is associated with fire, and that fever is
naturally imagined as burning, he associates χήλπ etymologically with the verb
καίω and the adjective jt^Acor, and adduces passages ( X II . 280; Hes. Theog.
70 6 -8 ) in which thunderbolts ate the κήλα of Zeus. Similarly Schretter links
the title Smintheus (1. 39). under which Chryses invokes Apollo when he asks
him to shoot the Achacans, with the noun a-nn-Oapihts denoting the sparks or
beams of a star to which Apollo himself is being compared (A. A p . 4 4 0 -2 ; but
see also IV . 77).
 The Personalities o f Death 259
peaceful d e a t h . W h e n this happens the speaker clearly docs
not mean that the god was present in the sam e open w ay that
A pollo is present in the Plague episode: the act o f A p o llo or
A rtem is sounds like a sh ad o w y image rather than a full
epiphany. Sin ce am ong the O lym pians they are fully-fledged
personal actors, but as bringers o f death they fade back into the
figurative language o f allusion, the structure is the m irro r
image o f what w e observed in the ease o f T h an a to s and K e r ,
who take shape in that figurative language and o n ly em erge into
the full identity o f personal gods in the S h ield o f ^ c h illc s and
the story o f Sarp ed o n ’s death.

Mythical forms emerge in stories of the gods and in works o f art

In saying that the relationship between the m ythical and the
non-m ythical is fluid or am biguous, we should not suggest that
the H om eric w orld -picture is vague or chaotic. R ath er, w e have
seen that the personalities o f death em erge each tim e accord ing
to the logic o f the context: supp ressed in the o rd in ary n arrative,
em ergent in the heightened language o f rhetoric, and fu lly
separated o ff in certain privileged n arratives. T h e r e is clearly
something special about the circum stances in w hich the h igh est
level o f the scale is reached. T a k e the exam ples o f S leep and
Death, who reached it only in the stories o f H e ra ’s deception o f
Γο complete the list: apart from the three examples quoted in our text,
and the Olympian quarrel where Hera mentions Artem is' role as a 'lion to
women' (XXI. 4 S 2 -4 ). the image occurs where a character wishes death on
him- or herself (xviii. 202—3, xx. 6 1 —S t ) or on another (xtx. 59; xvii. 2 5 1 ,
494 ): also when Hecuba says that Hector looks as peaceful as one shot by
Apollo (XXIV. 7 58 -9 ); in a generalized statement in the poet’ s voice about the
easy lives and gentle deaths o f the people of Syria (xv. 4 0 9 - 1 1 ) ; and when
Anticleia s shade explains that she died of longing for Odysseus and was n o t
shot by Artemis (xi. 1 9 S - 9 ) . W e find the same formulae used in inset
narratives recounting the shooting o f mortals by Apollo or Artem is in the
legendary past (vt. 205. 428. xxtv. 6 0 5 -7 ; v . 1 2 3 - 4 , vii. 6 4 -5 , viii. 2 2 7 - 8 ,
xi. 3 - 4 ~S. possibly ix. 564). These references arc am biguous: except where
Apollo and Artemis kill from some stated personal motive, such as A p o llo's
anger at Niobe and her children (xxtv. 6 0 5 -7 ) or at Eu rytu s (viii. 2 2 7 - 8 ) it
.s impossible to be sure whether the gods appear in this role because
elevated of allusive language is usual in such stories, or because H om er
believes .ha, the gods moved more openly among earlier generations of
2 ^ο The Shaping o f M yth
Z e u s and the death o f Sarped on. Both these stories are set in
the cosm o lo gicn lly exalted w orld o f O lym pian society, when
Z e u s ow n son m eets his end and w hen his and H era’s sexual
p o litics is at its m ost exo tic.hl S eem in gly the divine loftiness of
the actors at the centre o f the stage is w hat allow s these others
to em erge from the shadow s and jo in the group around the
lim eligh t.*2
J u s t as these personalities em erge from the shadow s in a
h eigh ten ed n arrative o f divine society, so too they can come to
the fore in the v isu a lly heightened environm ent o f a work of
art. T h e S h ie ld o f A ch illes is the best exam ple, w here the κ->;ο£Γ
roam to and fro in their bloody cloaks'’1 along with figures like
S tr ife and ‘ B a ttle-C o n fu sio n ’ , “Ε ρ ι ς and Κ υ δ ο ιμ ό ς . T h e Shield
o f A c h ille s is a thing apart, but the scene has close parallels in
o th ers evoked in H o m er’s descriptions o f w orks o f art. C om ­
pare the aegis w orn b y A thena, adorned w ith im ages o f other
and still stran ger personal agents:1’4

. . . α ιγ ίδ α O voaavótooav
Sill·»}»', ην rrtpi μ ίν ττ ά ιτι μ Φ όβος t a r ίφ άνοιτα ι,
cv S ’ " Ε ρ ις , tv δ %Α λ κ ή , èv &i K p v ó ta c a Ί ιο κ ή ,
tv b i r e E o pyt(r) Κ ίφ α λ ή btiv o io rrtXi'ipov,
b t i i f j r t σ μ ΐρ δ ιή r t , d ió r r ip a s α ΐγιό χ ο ιο . (v. 7 3 8 - 4 2 )

61 C f. Erbse (10 86 : 34) on personifications at ‘liiuli points' o f the narrative.

M Com pare W est at T h e o g . 140 . on the personifications there of β ρ ο ν τ ή ,
Zrtpó rrη, nnd Α ρ γ ή ς : ‘ Because there arc three separate words, the unsophis­
ticated mind thinks of three separate thine*.’ But what kind o f mind is
unsophisticated ?
*’ It is foscinatinß to compare this scene with one of the imapes Pausanias
saw on the 7th-cent. Chest o f Cypselus at Elis. In a scene of the battle of the
Seven apainst T h eb es, a monstrous κήρ was about to pounce on the doomed
Polynices: τού ΙΙα λ ιν ίίκ α ν ς b i άαιαθιν yeιή t o n ;«·<ι· <55óiTnr rt Ιχονοα oöbiv
ή μ ιρ ω τ ίρ ο ν ς θηρίου καί ο ί τ ω ν χΐΐρ ώ ν tiaiv in tto p n rtis οΐ όνυχα- in iγρομμα bi
i n ' αΰτήι t i m t φηαι Κ ήρα, ως rör μ ίν irr ο τ oê ntnpivpitou τόν Π ολυτίΐκην
Λ π α χΟ ίπ α , '/srrowAti b i γα-ομ/νης καί σνν rün δικαίω ι τής τ«λίντι)ί (Paus.
5. 19 · f*)· I« remains possible, of course, cither that the artist was inspired
directly by the epic Shield, or that Pausanias' memory is contaminated by
knowledge o f such texts (compare, for example, the Hcsiodic S h ie ld o f
fle r a c le i 2 4 8 - 5 7 , u very similar imaRc of κή ρ·ς with talons; also A p . Hhod.
A r g o n . 4. 1 6 6 5 -7 ) .
64 On the personified deities depicted on the neßis and on other works of
art, sec Erbse (19 8 6 ), 2 8 -3 2 .
 The Personalities o f Death 261
Sim ilarly A g am em n o n ’s sh ield (XI. 3 6 -7 ) bears devices not
only o f the G o rgo n b u t also o f Rout and T e rro r, Φάβας and
d «> os, w ho are not o n ly psychological phenom ena but also the
sons and attendants o f A rc s (see x i i l . 2 9 9 - 3 0 0 , x v . 1 1 9 - 2 0 ; and
cf. H es. Theog. 9 3 3 - 6 ) . T h e lesson is that H om er allow s
him self to rise to b aroque heights o f im age-m aking on the
level o f vivid n ess that he finds appropriate for a w ork o f art:f,s
the form s o f the artistic depiction are an extended and
sharpened version o f the shapes that im age-m aking takes on
in die rhetorical language used by H o m er's characters at
moments o f highest em otion. In term s o f the structures o f
jnyth-m aking, the visual extravagance o f the figured m etalwork
is on the sam e level as is the narrative extravagance o f a story o f
O lym pian politics or the highest m om ents o f dram a in the
events o f the m ortal w orld.

‘Everything is fu ll of gods’
It is in this sense o f un ity in m ultiplicity that the lesson lies
for our problem o f defining φνχή. Ju st as θάνατος begins as
death in the sim plest sense, takes on his m ythical identity in
rhetorical language under shadow y suggestive form s, and
finally em erges into the light o f d ay in a few narratives
where the action is on the plane o f the gods, so φνχη takes
on its m eaning on different levels in different contexts. Its
structure follow s exactly the pattern that w e have form ulated
in this chapter: in ordin ary narrative the φνχή is no m ore than
the last breath lost in the air o f the battlefield, in the language
o f rhetoric its potential flight to H ades is o b liquely suggested,
and at two pivotal m om ents it is separated o ff as a birdlike
thing that gibbers and squeaks and flics aw ay to join the
w raiths in the unseen U n d erw orld . T h e parallel is exact
between the φνχη o f Patroclus' and H ector's deaths and the
Θάνατο? o f S arp ed o n 's: in both cases an ordinary word is given
an extraordinary identity, and the w orld o f m yth erupts for a
w hile from that o f the battlefield: the w inged φνχή, crying out
»
*’ On the vivid n e ss o f represen tation in the S h ie ld o f A ch illes as a w hole,
sec for exam ple C. H. W h itm an (1058: 305) and A . S . Iiccker (19 9 0 ).
2&2 The Shaping o f M yth
as it Hies to H ades, belongs not in the im m anent im agery of
poetic evocation but in the unseen and trnnsccndcnt world of
d ivinity. It is easy to sec why the two places w here the myth
appears should be the deaths o f Patroclus and Hector. These
arc the decisive turning-points o f the causal chain which
draws the action o f the Iliad inevitably on towards the
death o f Achilles: Patroclus' last words prophesy the ven­
geance that awaits H ector at A chilles' hands (xvt. 8 5 1-4 ),66
and when that doom is fulfilled H ector tells A chilles o f the
death that awaits him at the Scacan gate (xxtl. 358 -6 0 ).67 Just
as briefer images o f descent to H ades belong in contexts of
deepened em otional force, so here the most elaborate and
most dram atic version o f the m yth takes shape at the two
m om ents o f cardinal significance in the progress o f the story
o f the Iliad.
T h e crucial point in both cases is that the m ost elaborate
articulation docs not prescribe the meaning o f the simpler
ones. W e saw that alongside the em erging personal shapes of
κτήρ and θάνατος there arc other images where their per­
sonalities cither remain unacknowledged or are altogether
ignored. In exactly the same way, the last gasp o f the dying
man may be seen as flying to H ades but can also, and far more
easily and often, remain seen as nothing more than a puff of
air lost on the w ind. In both cases the mythical element in the
w orld o f experience is am biguous and potential, em erging into
full articulation only in certain controlled moments o f height­
ened im age-m aking. F o r Hom er there is a sense in which
'everything is full o f gods’ ,,,s full o f the unseen mythical things
that the M use tells of: but in the interpreter’s reading this
prin ciple must not be pushed beyond its proper limits: there is*
** O n the card in;! I sign ifican ce o f the death o f Patroclus in the causal chain,
sec m ost recen tly T a p lin (19 9 2 ), 17 9 -8 5 .
F o r the causal link betw een the two deaths, note esp. the tenor o f T h e tis'
anticipators- lam ent for her son w hen he rises up against H e c to r αντΐκα γάρ τοι
en n ra fitO ' ‘ Eirropa πότμος ί τ ο ί μ ο τ (XVIII. 96; se c E d w ard s ad loc. for fu rth er
refs.).
“ T h a le s , fr. 9 1 K R S : ndera πλήρη fftwv ci7a< (A rist. D e an. 4 11* 7 ) . As
K R S point ou t (p. 95) th is is probably a w ord -for-w ord quotation rather
than a su m m ary o f T h o le s ' idea, since the sam e w ords are recalled in Plato’s
L a w s, though w ithou t T h a le s ’ nam e (899b). See m ost recen tly M . J . Clarke
(19 9 56 ).
 The Personalities o f Death 263
also a structure which lim its the florescence o f m yth in the
depiction o f the w orld o f m ortals.69 W e w ill end o u r stu d y
with a broader look at this principle.

** T lic m ost usefu l essay on this p ro b lem fo r G re e k g o d -n a m e s as a w h o le

has been that by W alter P ö tsch er (19 5 9 6 ); sec also P ö tsch e r (19 7 8 ) . P ö tsc h e r
shows that I lo m er and H e sio d 's m yth ological language g iv e s person al id en tity
to qualities, intangible phen om en a, and co sm ic e n tities in a sy s te m o f
expression w here p rio rity can not be assign ed cith er to the person al o r the
abstract articulation ('P e rso n ', 'B e re ic h '). P ö tsch e r su g g e sts (19 5 9 6 : 1 5 —16 )
that the key to u n derstan din g the system lies in u n d e rstan d in g the flu x
between the tw o extrem es (cf. E rb se (19 8 6 ), ch . 1 , e sp . 9 ^ 1 1 ) . A s im ila r
insight is touched on b y S n e ll ( 19 5 z ) , 16 0 - 2 .
 8

C o n clu sio n : T h e D y n am ics o f

M y th ic a l I m a g e -M a k in g

The suppleness o f myth

In the ψυχή o f the deaths o f Patroclus and H ector a tangible
ph en o m en o n o f m ortal experience is translated into som ething
that b elo n g s in the unseen w orld o f the afterlife. In the last
ch ap ter w e saw that this am b iguity or shift is not unique to the
p ro b lem o f that particular w ord. I f we make the personal
id entity o f D eath or Sleep parallel to the m ythical form of
the ψυχή w hich flies to blades and lives there as a wraith, and if
we m ake the ren d erin g o f sleep or death as m ist falling on the
eyes p arallel to the sim p le identification o f ψ υ χ ή as the dying
m an ’ s last breath, then the w ords θ ά ν α τ ο ς , ϋ τ τ ν ο ς , and ψ υ χ ή will
each p ro m p t the sam e question: w ithin the range o f p ossib il­
ities for im age-m akin g represented by a single noun, where
does the m ythical identity helong in the poet’s view o f the
w orld ?
S o stated , this a case o f the m ore general problem of
exp lain in g how the stufT o f m ortal experien ce relates to the
s tu ff o f m yth . E v eryw h ere in H om er and still m ore obviously
in H esio d , n ouns that m ight now adays be called ‘ abstract’ are
liab le to take on the identities o f personal gods. W itness
W . B u rk e rt on ‘ the special ch aracter o f G reek an thropom orph­
ism ’ : ‘ L o cu tio n and ideation is structured in such a w ay that a
co m p le x perso n ality em erges w hich has its ow n plastic being.
T h is cannot be defined, b ut it can be know n, and such
k n o w led ge can b rin g jo y , help and sa lv a tio n ." In our study
o f ψυχή, θάνατος, and their kin we face a peculiar species o f this
‘ plastic b ein g ' in term s o f the m eanings o f n oun s.2 We need to
1 B u rk e rt (19 8 5 ), 18 3 . C f. W ebster (19 5 4 ); R ein h ard t (i9 6 0 ).
2 F o r the p rin cip le that the in d ivid u al noun is the key to the m eaning o f
each d e ity , sec csp . S n e ll (19 5 4 ) . fo llow ed by the o th e r savan ts’ useful
 The Dynamics o f M ythical Image-M aking 265

study the phenom enon a little m ore w id ely before w e can

achieve a final an alysis o f I lo m eric b elief about life after death.3
A cross the epic trad ition as a w hole the m ost instructive
exam ple o f this d yn am ic is H esio d ’s m editation on R u m ou r,
Φήμη:

δ ίιν ή ν S t β ρ ο τ ώ ν irraX cüta φ ή μ η ν

φ ή μ η y u p re κ α κ ή π ί'λ ίτ α ι κ ο ύ φ η μ * ν act pat
p c ia μ ά λ ’. ά ρ γ α λ ίη S i φ ίρ α ν , χ α λ ίτ τή S ’ άπυΟΙαΟαι.
φ ή μ η δ* ο ν τ ι ί π ά μ π α ν drróAAvrat, ή ν τ ιν α η ο λ λ ο ι
λ α ο ί φ η μ ίξ ο υ α ι· θ (ό ς νύ τ is c a rt κ α ί α ΰττί. ( I t 'D 7 6 0 —4 )

As he considers the ind estructib le pow er o f rum our, he builds

up its contours until it is no less than an im m ortal g o d d ess.4
Ilut even if the deification em erges spontaneously out o f the
argum ent, the structure w hich generates it is d eeply traditional:
indeed, the shapin g o f the personal Φήμη d raw s on a pattern
w hich is further exem plified in H om er b y Ό σσα and θ ΐμ ις,
w ords w hich take on the form o f d ivin e b eings responsible for
(or identified w ith) the spread ing o f news and instructions (see
below , pp. 266—7). W hat is im portant is not the an cestry or
credentials o f each individu al personification, but the patterns
o f im age-m aking w hich the poet follow s w hen ever he b rin gs it
to the fore.

d iscussion o f H esio d ’ s p erso n ified Γαλήνη-, also S c h w a b l ( 19 5 5 ) , 52 9 ; and on

the creative asp ects o f H o m e r’ s d ep lo ym en t o f p erson ified nou n s, see esp.
R ein h ard t (i9 6 0 ).
5 T h e m ost recen t s tu d y relevan t to the m ain arg u m en t o f this ch ap ter is
E rb se (19 S 6 ), esp. 9—8 5 ; hut I h ave fo u n d m ore that is h e lp fu l in the
penetrating articles o f \V . P ö tsch er (19 5 9 η , I959&, i9 6 0 , 19 7 8 ) and
H . S c h w a b l ( 19 5 5 ). O n these sec also C h . 7 n. 69. A n illu m in atin g sid eligh t
from a n eigh b ou rin g p art o f the w o rld is throw n by J . D ottcro's w ork on
language and d iv in ity in M e so p o tam ian religion , w h ere he em phasizes the
on e-to-on e corresp on d en ce b etw een the in d ivid u al d iv in e p erso n ality and the
in d ivid u al w ord ( 19 8 7 : p a isim , esp. 12 5 ff ). 1 have also learn ed m uch from
S . D aile y on this nnd k in d red them es.
4 W ilam o w itz ( 1 9 3 1 : 1 7 - 1 9 ) h eld that Oeds took on a special m eaning w hen
it w as used p rc d ica tiv e lv , to id en tify som ething ns d iv in e in a n ovel w ay.
P ötscher (1959ft: 4 -8 ) has sh ow n that this p rin cip le should not b e p u sh ed too
far; and indeed in P in d a r’s w o rld — if not in H e sio d 's also— Φήμη is a real
enou gh goddess fo r h er to be w oken up nnd dragged ou t o f bed b y Poseidon
(P in d. Itlh m . 4. 3 7 - 4 2 ) , ju st ns D aw n rises fro m beside T ith o n u s.
266 The Shaping of M yth

The divine society

Fro m the outsider’s point o f view there arc two broad cat­
egories am ong H om er’s countless exam ples o f divine per­
sonalities tied to ordinary nouns. On the one hand stand
parts o f the furniture o f the w orld— Ouparós, Tata, Ï2#ceai'ój,
and so on— along w ith cosm ological phenom ena such as Νΰξ,
Ήώς, or the so-called ‘ Seasons’ , Ώραi;5 and on the other hand
stand intangible happenings in hum an experience— not only
θάνατος, ύπνος, and the agents o f fate but also such varied things
as R um ou r, "Οσσα (it. 9 3 -4 ; xxiv. 4 1 3 - 1 4 ; cf. i. 2 8 2 -3 , ·>. 2 :6 -
t7 );6 D ream , 'Ovupas (ιι. 5—35); G race or Beauty, Χάρις or the
Χάριτ(ς (v. 338 , X IV . 26 7 -7 6 , X V I I I . 3 8 2 -3 ); Strife, "Ερις (iv. 440­
5, V . 740, X I . 3 -4 , 7 3 - 7 , X V I I I . 53 5, etc.);7 the law o f social
organization, Θίμις (xv. 87—100, XX. 4 -6 ; ii. 68-9);* Panic, Φΰζα,
w ho accom panies Phobos the groom o f A res (ix. 1 —2); and Rout
and V alour, Ίωκή and Αλκή, depicted on A thena’s aegis (v. 738­
42). In practice there is no clear dividing line between these
and the fam iliar personal gods o f O lym pian society. Fo r ex­
am ple A res belongs in both cam ps, since he is not only a major
O lym pian personality but also a noun translatable as ‘w ar’ or
‘b attle-fu ry’ (see below , pp. 26 9 -72); and the names of
H ephaestus ( 1 1 . 426; and cf. ix. 468 — x x iti. 3 3 , x v i i . 88,

* W hen g o d s com e to nnd from O lym p u s the Ώ ραi in person open and close
the Rates nnd look after th eir horses (v . 7 4 9 - 5 1 = v m . 3 9 3 - 5 , V I»· 433). or.d in
the sam e cap acity they su p erv ise the jo u m eyin R s o f the Rods w hose m ove­
m ents m ark the passage o f tim e and the seasons (see x x i. 4 5 0 - j, w ith ii 107,
X. 469 , x i. 2 9 5, and csp . x x iv . 34 4 ; also H cs, Theog. 0 0 1—3: XV’Ω ;s),
p re su m ab ly b ecau se d ay, night, d aw n , the su n . and so cn nrc im agined c;
passin g in and out o f O lym p u s on th eir travels (for the im age cf. ile s . rt.e ig
7 4 8 - 5 7 ; and sec also A u stin (19 7 5 ). 88). T h e elaborate role o f the Ώ ραι in later
G re e k th ou ght, e sp ecially in P in d a r's evocation o f political w ell-b ein g, lies
b eyo n d the scope o f th is book.
6 Ό σσα is cogn ate w ith &!>, ro u g h ly 'v o ice ' (see C han train e s v ). Etfcse
(19 8 6 : 3 4 - 5 ) points out that the divine personality is at least hinted at in every
in stan ce o f the w o rd . S e e also D u ran te (19 6 8 a: 244), adducing a Yedic
cogn ate.
1 O n E ris see csp . E rb s e (19 S 6 ), 2 8 -9 .
* O n the n on -p erson al m eaning o f Ofμ ις in H om er (11. 7 3 . IX. X34; ίϋ · 45.
and often ), sec csp . L c s k y (19 8 5 ), 5 - 1 7 , and P ötscher (i9 6 0 ). 3 1 - 3 . T h e
sh ad o w y ch lh o n ic m yth o lo gy o f T h e m is (sec esp. A esch . Eum . 1 —7 , P V 209—
to , w ith S o u rv in o u -In w o o d ( 19 8 7 ) ) is b eyond the scope o f this book.
 The Dynamics o f M ythical Im age-M aking 267
χχίν. 7 i) and A ph rod ite (xxii. 444) are som etim es used to
denote the phenom ena o f fire and sexuality in such a w ay
that their personal identities m ust be set aside. W e w ould be
missing the point if we asked o f each noun w hether it refers
originally to a thing or a god, or w hether this or that usage is
literal or m etaphorical: what is essential is that m yth -m akin g
allows personalities o f all these kinds to rub shoulders together
as a single social group in a single n arrative. >
\Vc have seen a startlin g exam ple o f this in H era s n ego ti­
ations with Sleep , w here Sleep schem es and b argain s w ith her
like any other personal god (C h. 7 , pp. 2 3 6 —9). S im ila r arc such
scenes as that in w hich D aw n arrives at O lym p u s from the bed
she shares with the hum an T ith o n u s, b earing light to Z eu s and
the other gods (ll. 48—9; cf. XI. 1 —2 —v. 1 —2, XIX. 1 —2, x x iii. 2 4 1 —
6), or w here Iris the rainbow acts as a m essen ger betw een
O lym pus and the w orld b elo w , ' or w here \ o u t h , Ηβη, is a
servant-girl at the feasts o f the gods (iv . 2—3, v. 7 2 2 —3, 905;
xi. 603—4). H ere the logic o f sto ry-tellin g allow s the gods
relationships to be w orked out in term s o f the cou rt and
fam ily structures o f O lym pian so ciety, regard less o f their
’ "The problem o f Iris and the rain b o w is n ice ly b alan ced . Iris in p erso n
frequently acts as a m e sse n g er on b e h a lf o f Z e u s or an o th e r go d (d efin ed ,
XV. 1 4 4 . see v ili. 3 9 7 - 4 3 2 . X V III. 16 5 - 2 0 2 , e tc.), an d she re sp o n d s to A c h ille s '
prayer for w in d b y visitin g the W in d s' cav e in p e rso n to g iv e th em in stru c tio n s
(x x i i i . 10 4 —2 1 3 ) . S h e also acts os a ch ario te e r and m a id se rv a n t fo r A p h ro d ite
returning from the battlefield to O lym p u s (v . 3 6 5 —9), an d tw ice she takes on
the guise o f a m ortal in o rd er to tran sm it a m essage fro m a god (11. 790 —5 ,
in . 1 2 1- 4 0 ) . It is easy to see an an alo g y, i f no m o re, b etw e e n the rain b o w
stretching from heaven to e arth and the m e ssen g er p a ssin g b etw e e n the g o d s'
w orld and that o f m ortals. B u t the con n ection is in fact m ore in tim ate than
that. Iris' epithets (πάδαν ώ ·α α , τ α χ ιΰ ι, drM oirot, χρυοότττ*ρος, ιτοδ^νιμον) a rc
appropriate to the person ificatio n o f a rain b o w , an d sh e d e sce n d s w ith
instantaneous speed (see the sim ile s at x v . 1 7 0 - 2 , x x iv . 7 7 —8 3 ; an d note also
H cs. Theog. 266—9 , 7 8 4 -6 ); and fu rth e rm o re the tw o Ilia d ic referen ces to
rainbow s in the ord in ary sense rep resen t th em as b rin g in g m essages fro m
Z eu s: im ages on A g a m e m n o n 's a rm o u r g leam like rain b o w s, ίρ ια α ιν ioucÓTts,
w hich Z eu s sends as a sign to m o rtals (x i. 2 7 - 8 ) , an d A th e n a d e sce n d s to earth
like a rainb ow . Ιρις, w hich Z e u s exte n d s as a sign o f w a r o r sto rm (x v ti. 5 4 7 —
52). A ll this m akes it im p o ssib le to d ra w a d iv id in g lin e b etw e e n the p e rso n
and the phenom enon (thus E rb s e (19 8 6 ). <*4; also C h a n tra in c s .v ., and F ris k
s .v .; £./gr/i h o ld s that the p erso n and the ph en o m en o n arc d istin g u ish e d in
H om er but not in H esio d , w h ich seem s a rb itra ry ). S e c m o st re cen tly B a d e r
<199«)·
 The Shading o f M yth
in d ividu al o rigin s and credentials. T o take a m ore thorny
exam ple, in D em o d ocu s’ talc o f the ad ultery o f A rcs and
A p h ro d ite (viii. 266—366) it is tem pting to look behind their
all-to o -h u m an personalities and read the story as something
like an allegory o f the union o f love and strife ,10 especially if wt·
su p p ly from H esiod ( Theog. 937) that the children o f their
union w ere not on ly Phobos and D eim os but also H arm o n y ;"
but to take that step is to rob the story o f its organic meaning,
sin ce as a w hole it m akes sense only through the social order
w h ich m akes A rc s, A ph rod ite, and H ephaestus live in neigh­
b o u rin g houses and interact w ith gods like A pollo, H erm es, or
Po seid on , w ho are never identified w ith phenomena or things.
T h is social logic is parallel to the genealogical logic which
con trols H e sio d ’s Theogony,11 w here (for exam ple) Gaia
m others a fam ily that includes Πάιτος, the M ountains,
T h e m is , M e m o ry , the T ita n s, and the H undred-hander
giants (see 11. 12 6 —53). S h e is m other o f sea and m ountains in
the sense that they arise from the physical fabric o f the earth;
T h e m is and M em o ry seem to be chthonic in a more deep and
intangible se n se ;11 w hile the T ita n s and the H undred-handers
1,1 T lie r e is no tellin g how creative o r 'an ti-trad ition al' th is story is. In the
I lia d and in H esio d , H eph aestu s w oos or is m arried to one of the Charites
( x v m . 3 8 2 —3 ; Then/;. 945), and m any h ave argued that D em o d o cu s' story is a
n ovel in ven tion (sec su rv e y o f secon d ary literature b y B u rk ert (i9 6 0 )).
H o w e v e r that m ay b e, outside H om er w c often find A r c s ' nam e linked with
A p h ro d ite 's in p o e try , art, and cult (see B u rk ert (i9 6 0 ), 1 3 2 n. 6; (19 8 5 ), 220;
N ilsso n (19 6 7 ), 52 4 ; H ain sw o rth at viii. 267). P o ssib ly the sto ry o f A re s ' union
w ith A p h ro d ite origin ated because o f w arlike aspects o f her person ality which
w e re e a rly ab an don ed on the P an hellcnic level (see W est at Theog. 9 3 3 , with
re fs.). B e that as it m ay, in later tradition the them e w as understood to be the
u n ion o f p o lar o p p o sites (B u rk ert (19 8 5 ), loc. cit ), and it is suggestive that
H esiod lists the ch ild ren as P h o b o s, D eim o s, and H arm onia ( Theog 9 33 -7 ):
the p ro d u ctio n o f the first p air fits the union o f tw o w arrior deities, the
p ro d u ctio n o f the third fits die union o f w ar and love. M ig h t H arm on y have
been adiled b y o r b efore H esiod in an attem pt to reinterpet an old story?
" N o te also A esch . S e p t. 1 3 5 —4 2. referrin g to H arm o n y 's m arriage to
C a d m u s.
,J O n the genealogical logic see esp. S c h w ab ! (19 5 5 ); Stok es (19 6 2 ); L lo yd
(»975)·
11 W est at Theog. 13 5 says that T h e m is and M e m o ry are included among
the ch ild ren o f G a ia 'm e re ly because o f their an tiqu ity’ : this is perh aps less
than the w hole tru th about T h e m is (sec ab o ve , n. 8), b u t no other explanation
su g g e sts itse lf fo r M e m o ry b eing one o f this fam ily.
 The Dynamics o f M ythical Image-M aking 2 6ο

are anthropom orphic (or m onstrous) beings, so that G aia m ust

be their m other only in the sense that a hum an m other m ight
bear children. 7'hc u n ify in g factor is the genealogical gram m ar
of H esiod’s exposition, w hich expresses all these kinds o f
relationship in term s o f the sam e fam ily structure. In the
same w ay H o m er’s stories are controlled and m oulded b y the
social structures o f O lym pian life, and their m eaning cannot
be translated onto another level o f exposition.

Arcs and tear '

A contradiction lies im plicit in the w ay each such d eity is to be
understood. H ere a case in point is A res, w ho is som etim es
identified with the fu ry o f battle as a w hole but can also
intervene on the battlefield to fight on b eh alf o f one or other
host o f w arriors.M A t one end o f its range, the w ord ópsjs/élpr/ï
evokes no im age o f a personal d eity. Fo r exam ple, enem ies
carry war w ith them , φΐρον παλΰύακρυv ήρ-ηα. f u i . 13 2 , v in . 5 16 ,
etc.); w arriors longing for battle arc toovpcioi . . . άρηος
(xm . 630) or Ιττ<ιγόμ€νοι . . . άρηος (X IX . 14 2 , 189); to join
battle is άρηα σννάγαν (11. 3 8 1 = X IX . 27 5, etc.) or Spjji KpietoOai
(XVIII. 209; xvi. 269, etc.); to fight is μαχίαασΟαι άρ-ηϊ (X VII. 490,
and cf. XX. 50 ).|J T h e sam e name stands for what enters H ector
when he becom es filled w ith b attle-fu ry, δΰ 8t μιν αρης | Scoor
Ι ν υ ά λ ιο ς (XVII. 2 1 0 - 1 1 ) ,16 and a w ound inflicted by a single blow
is itself a m anifestation o f άρης:

' ’ E rbse (19 S 6 : 1 06—8) show s that the noun άρης/Άμητ m oves betw een
phenom enon and personal god in the sam e w ay as n ou n s like <Inj. S e c also
Pötschcr (19 5 9 0 ), arg u in g that the tw o identities o f are in extricably
fused. L e ss satisfacto ry ure B u rk e n ( 19 S 5 : 16 9 -7 0 ), w h o d e scrib e s A rc s as
"apparently o rig in a lly an ahstract noun m eaning thron g o f b attle, w a r ', and
N ilsson (19 6 7 : 5 1 S—1 9 ), w ho is content to exp lain the com p lexities o f the noun
in term s o f m eto n ym y.
1 B y the sam e token the fam ous οΓδα i ' f r i cnaiirji ir j fan ptAjrtaSaι
(vu . a m ) could refer cither to p e rfo rm in g a w ar-dan ce in A r e s ’ honour or to
leaping n im bly ab out in h an d -to-h an d co m b at, depen din g on how w e un der­
stand the verb .
1,1 D espite the title A-vci-Xtor h ere, it seem s best not to see this im age in
personal term s, sin ce it w ould be an extrao rd in ary and (in H om er) u n par­
alleled idea for a personal god to enter a m an in this w ay. C o m p are *par«pij i t I
λΰαοα it iv x t v (IX. 239 ), also o f H ector, and sec n. 18 b elow .
270 The Shaping o f Myth
β ά λ ΐ δονρι
α ιδ ο ίω ν τ ( μ κ ο η γ ν κα ι ομ φ α λ ον, ( νΟα μά λ ισ τα
y i y i r r ' άρης ttAtycu'ós ο ίζ ν ρ ο ΐα ι β ρ ο τ ο ίο ιν . (Χ ΙΙΙ. 5^ 7—9)

It follows that the personal A rcs represents the frenzy of the

whole action o f battle from the point o f view o f both parties
raging amok like fire (see csp. x v . 6 0 5-6 ).17 T h u s Hector hopes
to kill Achilles because the struggle is evenly m atched, £ιη·ό; i.
Ένυάλιος καί τ ί κτανίοντα κατίκτα (xviit. 3 °9 )ί,Η similarly,
struggling hosts divide the fury o f war between them, μ ό -os
Άρηος Sareovrai (xviit. 264); to join battle is to rouse A rcs up,
Άρηα rytiptiv (11. 440, tv. 352, etc.); O dysseus remembers
N eoptolem us' skill when all was confusion in battle, ίπιμίξ 6e
Tt μαίνιται Άρης (xi. 537); Helen weaves a picture o f the toils
w hich both T ro jan s and Achacans underwent at A res' hands,
οΰς fOcv c’vik ' ίπασχον ύπ’ Άρηος παλαμάων (ill. 128). When a
weapon misses its m ark it is A res who takes away its force, άφίΐι
μίνας όβριμος Άρης (x lil. 444 = XVI. 6 13 = x v n . 529); he spills the
blood o f those who die in battle, τών rui’ αίμα κιλαινοι· . . . |
ίοκίδασ'οξύς Άρης (ν ιι. 3 2 9 -3 °). and their blood sates his thirst,
αίματος άοαι Άρηα (v. 289 = XX. 78 = XXII. 267); he is the ultimate
cause o f Sarp cd on ’s death at the hands o f Patroclus, τόι> δ’ ΰττό
Πατρόκλαιι δάμαα' ίγ χ ίϊ χάλκίΟί Άρης (XVI. 543)· or those of
Priam ’s sons at the hands o f Achilles, τών μίν πολλών Οονρος
Άρης ύπο γοΰνατ' ΐλυσιν (χχίν. 498).
T h e problem o f definition looms when A rcs in person enters
the battle to fight on one side rather than the other—for
exam ple, when he jo in s the fray on the T ro jan side in I hud
,v (439- 45)· A fter a spate o f fighting, Athena leads him away to
sit inactive on the sidelines (sec v. 3 5 —7, 3 55-6 3), which enables
the A chacans to gain the upper hand, Τρώας h' ίκλιναν Δαναοί
(37); hut later A res returns to the fray and gives new prowess to
I
11 O n A r e s ’ association w ith the m ost savage aspect o f battle see V ian (1968
5 4 -6 ), arg u in g that for H om er he represents a m em ory o f the ferocity of
p rim itive w arfare. S im ila rly Jan k o (at Mil. 3 0 1- 3 ) suggests that A res rray be
associated w ith T h ra c e (x m . 2 9 8 -3 0 3 ; viii. 3 6 1; and see N ilsson (tgfi7), 5 1 7 ­
18 ) not because he w as a foreign im port but because deities w ho personify
u n ru ly forces tend to be regarded as originatin g b eyond G ree k lands.
“ £ι·υάλιο( is a title o f A rcs and no m ore: see x v n . 2 10 —1 1 , and also x m . 3 19 ,
w here a son o f A re s is called νιος Ένυαλιοιο. T h e relationship betw een A res
and the fem ale E n yo (v. 3 3 3 . 59 2; also H cs. Theog. 273) rem ains m ysterious.
 The Dyita/nics o f M ythical Im age-M aking 271

his favourites.1’’ En couraging them first with a speech m ade in

the guise o f A cam as (4 6 1-7 0 ), he runs alongside H ector in
human shape, βροτώι άν&ρι «οίκο»; (604), as they advance against
Diomedes:
s lp y t 5’ (V -π α λ ά μ η ια ι -ntXtlipiov ί γ χ ο ς ό ώ μ ι ι ,
φ ο ίτ α δ ’ άλλοτ* μ ί ν π ρ ό α Ο ’ Έ κ τ ο ρ ο ς , άλΛοτ' δ π ισ θ ΐ.

(594- 5’. cf. V. 508)

At one point A res kills a m an him self: D iom edes then faces him
in single com bat and w ounds him (v. 846—63), fo rcin g him to
ascend back to O lym pus to be healed. In this episode he is a
personal actor like any other god interfering on the battlefield,
and his influence on the action is lim ited to w hat he b rin gs
about in his personal form . T h is m eans that he can no lon ger be
globally identified with w ar or w arlike fu ry as he w as in the first
group o f passages we observed. T h e snag is that w hen
Diom edes fights this personal A res, the m ortal w arrio r e x e m ­
plifies the quality or m ood or type o f b ehaviou r w hich is called
ΰρης. T h is is m ore than an idle academ ic paradox, b ecause
when he w ounds the god and m akes him c ry out in pain, a
single sentence m anages to invoke the two extrem es o f im age­
making represented by the name:
o o tß p a ye y iiA x fo r s l p y t .
όσ α ον τ ’ ίνν*άχιλοι ίτ τ ία χ ον ή δρνάχιλο ι
a v tp es tu ττοΑ<μα)ΐ ίρ ιδ α ξ ν ν ά γ ο ν τ ( ς ΰρ-ηοζ.
(ν . 8 5 9 - 6 1 ; c f . XIV . 1 4 8 - 5 1 )

Ares in person cries out as m en do when they clash in the strife

o f apTjs.-1’ T h e two identities seem to jo stle w ith each other: the
mythical and non-m ythical levels no longer run in tandem , and

'* T h c opposition b etw een A re s an d A th en a in th is ep iso d e an d in the

\eornac 15 (XX. 3 3 - 4 S . XXI. 3 9 1 - 4 1 4 ) can b e seen os a co n flict b etw een the
γγ Ξ π, Τ Γ Γ κ b>' A r " 0nd ,h e m o rc so b e r an d d isc ip lin e d com b at
represented b y A thena: see E rb se (19 8 6 ), 15 6 - 6 6
·"’ It is ju st p o ssib le that this co u ld be tran slated as ‘ lead in g in E r is
auRhter o f A res ju s t as h orses d e scrib e d as φάβαν ΜΡηο, φ ο ρ.ούοα , (ιι. 7 6 7)
U e lik T d ^ 3S ,brm B m 8 ,h c 500 ° f ArCS b a « le i " p e rso n in a ch ariot
(see K ir k ad lo c .f and com p are XIII. 2 9 8 - 3 0 0 , x v . 1 .9 - 2 0 ) , H o w e v e r E r is is
elsew here the sister o f A re s rath er than h is d au g h ter (iv . 4 4 0 - ,· and an oth er

S Ä T “"'■·11— » -A- r
 the flow o f s t o r y - t e llin g can o n ly b y p a s s the g a p w h ic h yawns
b e tw e e n th e m .

Uehos and Scamander

T h i s p r o b l e m is p o s e d still m o r e sta rkly b y deities that per­
s o n i f y p a r t s o f the p h y s ic a l w o r ld : w hen these bein g s m o v e as
p e r s o n a l ac to rs th ey retain th eir n o n -m y th ic al identity as
th in g s that w o u ld b e v is ib le to o r d in a r y m ortals. F o r example,
i f w e t h in k in E n g li s h o f the ‘ s u n - g o d ’ , H elios, rem em b erin g
h is role in O ly m p i a n sto ries and the h u m a n s h a p e o f his
c h i l d r e n C i r c e an d A e ë te s (see x. 1 3 5 - 9 ) , it seem s easy to
i m a g in e h i m as a m a n - s h a p e d figure d r a w in g the sun behind
h im , p e r h a p s on a c h a r io t or in a b o w l; b u t it is c lear from
H o m e r i c p r a c t ic e that this b e in g is p recisely identified w ith the
s u n w h i c h s h in e s in the s k y . JI W h en he acts in the n arrative his
im p o r t a n c e is that h e sees w hat is g o in g on in the w o rld below,
t o u c h in g all th in g s w ith the b e am s o f sight w h ic h are his rays,
naraStfiK erai ά κ τ ίν ια σ ιν (xi. i 6 ) . J ' In the A d u l t e r y o f A r e s and
A p h r o d i t e h e s p ie s for the c u c k o ld e d H e p h a e stu s (see viii. 2 7 0 -
I , 3 0 2 ) , 23 a n d in the s to r y o f the s la u g h ter o f his o w n cattle he
tells Z e u s o f the p le a s u r e w ith w h ic h he u se d to look d ow n on
th e m in h is d a ily j o u r n e y ,34
21 D is tin g u ish D aw n , w h o rides in a chariot d raw n b y h orses called
L n m p o s and Phaeth on (x x iii. 246). In the C y c lic T itanom achy H elios had a
ch ario t led b y h o rse s w ith sim ila r nam es (fr. 7 B ein ah e ), and the sun w as also
im ag in e d as b ein g held in a bow l or cu p (fr 8 Bcrn ahê; com pare S te sic h ., csp.
fr. 1 85 P).
22 \h sio n is im agin ed as rays (ή«mV»*, αΰγαι) em anating from the eye s, not as
■ m ages e n te rin g them : see Ja n k o at x ili. 8 3 7 . w ith fu rth e r refs. In the
T h rin a c ia n sto ry , new s o f the slau g h te r o f the cuttle is b rou gh t to H elios by
h is d a u g h te r Λ α μ π ·τ ιη TawbrcirAoi (xii. 3 7 5 ), and it is tem pting to gu ess that
sh e and h er siste r Φ αίθουοα (see x ii. 1 3 1 - 3 ) m ight be person ificatio n s o f the
ra y s th e m se lv e s.
22 C o m p a re H om eric H ym n to D em eter 1 4 - 9 . 5 9 -8 9 , w h e re H elio s as the
s p y , σ κοπ οί (6 z), o f god s an d m en sees and hears thin gs that o th e r deities do
n ot notice. R ich a rd so n at 2 4 -6 cites instances o f this role o f the sun in later
G r e e k literatu re , as w ell as parallels in oth er trad itions.
24 O n e w o n d e rs w h ether the im age o f the even in g -tim e w hen the sun goes
d o w n tatvanlt the u n yo kin g o f cattle, ημος 5' iJr'Acor / κ τ ο .α ιτ ο /loeAirroYSr
( χ ν ι. 7 7 9 = ix. 58), m igh t not refer to h im un yoking his ow n person al oxen
in T h r in a c ia , as in the O d yttey, o r in som e other w estern place (c f. H oekstra at
x ii. 2 6 0 -4 0 2 , w ith H e ro d o tu s 9. 9 3).
 The Dynamics o f M ythical Image-Making 273
ηισιν cyw yt
γαι \pujKOv
μίν iciv <tV ονρανόν αοτ€ρα€ντα,
ήδ'όπότ'αψ ini γαΐαν απ' οδρανόθϊν προτραπαιμην. (xii. 370"*® 0
S im ilarly, w hen A gam em n on calls on the gods to w itness a
pledge he includes 1 lelios w ho sees and hears all things, ο ς ττάντ'
ι φ ο ρ ά ij κ α ι τ τ ά ν τ ' έ - α κ α ύ ί ι ς (ill. 277i a*so χ " · 32 3)ί and Z eu s tells
Hera that w hen they lie with each other u n d er a m ist not even
the sun w ill be able to see them :
ο ΰ δ'ά » · ν ΰ ιΐ S i αδρό «rot 'H iS t ó i TTtp,
ον τ< κ α ι ό ξ ΰ τ α τ ο ν ττ«Α<ται φιϊος άαοράααΟαι. (Xivi 344~5)
A gain, when H elios threatens to descend to H ades he im plies
that it is he h im self who glow s w hen the sun shines,
δ ΰ α ο μ α ι t l ; M o n o κ α ί t v ν ( κ ΰ ( σ α ι φα(ίνα> (xii. 383)
and Z eu s responds in the sam e w ay,
μ * τ * ά θ α ν ά τ ο ιο ι 'lü r t v t
κ α ι Ο ι-ηταία ι β ρ ο τ ο ϊα ιν irti ζ α ’δ α ιρ ο ν ά ρ ο υ ρ α ν . (xii. 3^5—f’)
Som ehow this being w ho talks and w ills is also the round thing
that men see in the sky. O ccasionally the two articulations o f
the sun 's nature are ju xtap o sed in rapid succession, as when
Hera orders the sun to go dow n so that the w o rld w ill be
darkened:25
' I l i Aior ο* ά κ ά μ α ν τ α β ο ΰ η τ ις ττοτνια "ΙΙρτ)
π ϊ μ ψ ι ν ( V ΐ) κ ( α ι· ο ϊο ρ ο ά ς ó i κ ο ν τ ά vito O a i·
Ή (λ ιό ς μ ί ν ίδ υ , ττ α ϋ ο α ν τ ο Bi δ ΐο ι Μχαιοί
φ υ λ ό τ τιδ ο ς κ ρ α τ ( ρ ή ς κ α ί ό μ ο ιο υ τ τ ο λ ίμ ο ιο . (XVIII. 2J 9- 42)

H ere the m ythical and the n on-m ythical rub shoulders. On the
level o f the divine society, H elios su lk ily (άί'κοκτα, 240) obeys
H era’ s com m and, loath to d isturb the ordered sequence o f his
jo u rn ey, w h ile on the level o f m ortal experience the sun
sim p ly and v isib ly sin ks below the h orizon .26 T h e range o f

C om p are A th en a d e layin g E o s in person in o rd er to p ro lo n g the night

(xxiii. 2 4 2 -6 ).
E rb se (19 8 6 : 4 5 - S ) com p ares the s u n 's o v e rfly personal tru cu len ce in the
T h rin a c ia n 's lo ry (xii. 3 7 4 -S 8 ) w ith the m o re su b tle h in t o f p erson ificatio n in
the drVoi-To o f the present passag e, and su g g e sts (p. 47) that the latter sh o w s
the ‘p u re H o m eric s p ir it'. It cou ld e q u a lly be said that the p e rso n ality o f
274 The Shaping o f M yth
articulations represented by the w ord r/t'Aior makes up a supple
unity, and the poet glides from one level to the other.27
A revealing exam ple o f the same dynam ic is offered by the
river Scam ander. Scam ander is the son o f Z eus (xxi. 2),28 and
w e hear o f his priest (v. 7 7 -8 ; cf. X X I. 13 0 -2 ) and glim pse him
battling am ong the other gods in the T h eom ach y (xx. 40, 73—
4); w hile rivers in general arc accorded cult (x x m . 1 4 1 - 5 1 ) ,
called on to w itness oaths (u i. 278), included am ong those
called to council by Z eu s (xx. 7), and rem em bered as fathers of
hum an children (e.g. v. 5 4 4 -5 , xv i. 17 3 - 8 ) .2'1 N one the less, in
the usual course o f the narrative nothing happens to disturb
our understanding o f Scam ander as a visible and inanimate
feature o f the T ro ja n plain; and he em erges into full personal
prom inence only through a strange developm ent o f the story­
line in A ch illes’ final onslaught on the T ro ja n s.311 W hen the
hero d rives his foes into the river it becom es clogged with
corpses and bursts its banks, and at this point H om er gives a
hint o f Scam an d er’s personality:
i v δ ’ i-n ta o v μ ιγ ά λ ιυ ι n a r a y u n . βριiy< S ’ αίττά p ifO p a,
öyOai <5 ' (Ifió l Trepi nryóA* in y o i" ο ΐ δ ’ ά λ α λ η τΰιι
ó 'v to i' ΐν θ α κ α ί ίνΟ α, (Χ ισα όμ€να ι -rtpi β ίνα ς. ( x x i . 9—1 1)

T h e torm ented river groans and roars as if with its own

personal voice. O ver his next victim Achilles boasts that

M elios em erges to the ap p ro p riate extent in each case, since the slaughter of
his cattle n atu rally in v o lv e s his em otions in a m ore intim ate w ay.
77 C o m p are the com b in ation o f anthropom orphic and non-anthropo­
m o rp h ic im ages in a sin g le sentence narratin g the daw n, ijtur μ<ν κρο*όπ·πληϊ
ίκ ίδ ν α τα ndoai· ίπ 'α ια ι· (V ltl. I =X X IV . 695).
C o m p are Mes. T h eog. 3 3 7 - 4 5 . w here S c am an d e r is one o f the rivers horn
o f T e t h y s and O cean u s. T h e cosm ogon ic role o f this couple appears
o ccasio n ally in H o m e r (see x tv . 2 0 1 = 30 2 , 2 4 6 , w ith Jar.k o at x iv. 20 0 -7),
but seem s m o stly to be b yp assed in favo u r o f the O lym pian schem e.
” N o te the sto ry o f T y r o (xi. 2 3 8 - 5 3 ) , a m ortal w om an w ho fell in love with
a riv e r and dallied b y h is b an ks, enablin g P oseid o n to d isgu ise him self as the
riv e r (τώ ι . . . η'σάμcroc, x i. 2 4 1) in ord er to h ave his w ay w ith her. T y ro s
p assion w as ap p aren tly in spired by the riv e r 's b eauty, πολύ πάΛλιστοΓ ποταμών
(x i. 2 3 9 ): in the w o rld o f H o m e r's an th rop om orp h ism there is no reason w hy
such attraction sh ou ld not be sexu al.
10 O n S c a m a n d e r’ s p erso n ality see also E ilig e r ( 1 975). 7 , —3· Elsew here l
h ave in clu d ed the present discussion o f the riv e r-g o d in a stu d y o f early G reek
approaches to land scape (M. J. C lark e ( 19 9 7 ) ) ·
 The Dynamics o f M ythical Im age-M aking 275
Scam ander will be unable to protect the T ro ja n s despite all the
sacrifices offered him in the past (x x i. 13 0 —2), and at this the
river becom es enraged:
<5 y i p ’ ΐ φ η , π ο τ α μ ο ί h i χ ο λ ι ί ι α α τ ο κ η ρ ό Ο ι μ ά λ λ ο ν ,
ώ ρ μ η ν ι ν δ ' άΐ'ά θ υ μ ό ν ό π ω ς i r a ó a t t c π ό ν ο to
b io v λ ί χ ι λ λ ή α , T p w t a a i δ* λ ο ιγ ό ν ά λ ά λ κ ο ι. (ΧΧΙ. 136” 8)
From now on, S cam an d cr’s b ehaviou r is fu lly that o f a personal
god. A chilles slays A stcrop acu s, w ho is h im self the son o f a
river, and declares that he has the victo ry because one sp ru n g
from a river will n ever be a m atch fo r the descendant o f his own
great-grandfather, Z e u s (18 4 —99). S o S cam an d er bursts into
anger, and addresses A ch illes in hum an guise:
κ α ί v v κ ' ΐ τ ί π λ τ ο ν α ς κ τ ά ν ε Π α ί ο ν α ς CJKU i } 1χ ι λ λ € υ ς ,
t l μ η χ ( υ π ά μ ( \ ο ς π ρ ο σ ί φ η π ο τ α μ ο ί β α Ο υ δ ίν η ς ,
a v t p i ( ί ο ι ϊ μ ί ν ο ί , β α θ ί η ς δ ’ ite <10< γ ζ α τ ο δ ί ν η ς . . . (21 1—1 3 )
T h e fam iliar pattern o f a god d isgu isin g h im self in hum an
form, a v e p i ( Ι σ ά μ ΐ ν ο ς (com pare e.g. XIII. 2 16 , XVI. 7 16 , XVII. 7 3 ;
i. 105) explains how the river can m anifest his personal id entity
when he speaks. T h e se two w ords pin dow n the visu al im age,
and yoke together the m ythical and n on -m yth ical identities o f
the river in a w ay that goes beyond an yth in g that w e could find
in H om er’s evocation o f H elios. C ru cia lly , how ever, the
anthropom orphic im age is forgotten as soon as it is articulated,
and when Scam an d er returns to the o n slau gh t he is again
precisely identified w ith the physical substan ce o f the w ater:
ο ύ ’ ( π ίο σ υ τ ο ο ΐδ μ α τ ι Ο ύω ν,
παντα 5 ’ ó p iv t p t t O p a κ υ κ ι ΰ μ η ο ς , J i a t δ« ν ΐ κ ρ ο ΰ ς
π ο λ λ ο ύ ς , o f μ α κ α τ ’ α υ τ ό ν ά λ ις ίσ α ν , ο ΰ ς κ τ ά ν ' } Ι χ ιλ λ ΐύ ς ·
τούς (κ β α λ λ ι θ ύ ρ α ζτ, μ ιμ υ κ ώ ς η ύ τ ( τα ύ ρ ο ς,
x t p o o v b f ζ ια ο ν ς δ ί σ ά ιυ χ α τ ά κ α λ ά p it O p a ,
κ ρ ιτ π τ ι υ ν <ν δ ί ν τ μ ο ι β α θ ί ΐ η ι ο ι ν μ ΐ γ ά λ η ι σ ι .
S e iv o v δ ’ ά μ φ ’ Α χ ι λ ή α κ υ κ ώ μ ί ν ο ν ϊ σ τ α τ ο κ ύ μ α .
ά ιΟ α ύ t v σ ά κ < ϊ π ί π τ ο υ ν poos. (Χ Χ Ι. 234" 4 * )

T h e rushing river-w ater and the ragin g riv e r-g o d are one. T h e
same unity is p reserved to the end o f the b attle and d u rin g
Scam ander s ensuing conflict w ith H ep h aestu s (note csp. 248­
9, 2 6 8 -7 1, 3 0 5 -7 , 3 2 4 -7 , 3 5 6 -8 ). F o r a m om ent, the w o rd s
“ l’tpi seem ed to crystallize the relation sh ip betw een
2 7 ^> The Shaping o f M yth
the two levels: but the personality of Scamander was not fixed
hy this anthropomorphic shape, and as the narrative proceeds it
remains inseparably identified with the river itself.Jl Compare
the words with which Odysseus addresses the river of Scheria
when he swims into its estuary from the sea:
α ιδ ο ίο ; μ t v τ ’ ΐ σ τ ι κ α ι ι ί θ α ι ά τ ο ι ο ι O t o ia iv
α ι·δρ ώ ι· ο ; τ ι ; Γκηται ά λ ι ΰ μ ς ν os', w s κ α ί i y i l i ν ύ ν
σ ο ι· T i pooi· οιχ τ ( y o i 'iv a O ' ικανοί ττοΛλα μ ο γ ή σ α ς . (ν . 4 4 7 -9 )

T h e sw im m e r sp read s abroad h is arm s as he m oves through the

o u tp o u rin g w ater, and the river itself is also the god: so that his
action is p re c ise ly that o f seizing its knees in the gesture of
su p p lic a tio n . N e ith e r the im age w hich fixes the riv e r as an
an th ro p o m o rp h ic go d , nor the im age w hich denies it per­
so n ality o f an y kind, has any b in d in g force over the overall
d efin ition o f w h at it is to be a river.

The supple identity o f ψυχή

W e are now read y for a last look at ψυχή. L e t us recapitulate the
b u rd en o f our earlier chapters. N o rm ally ψυχή is the dying
m an ’s last g asp , lost on the air like any p u ff o f air, b u t in certain
con tro lled circu m stan ces it takes on a m ythical identity and
flies aw ay to H ad es like a b ird . W e saw that H om eric death-lore
o verall does not take shape in term s o f that m ythical version of
ψιυχή, and instead sen d s the dead m an to H ades in b odily form :
an d we needed to ju stify the claim that the m ythical articula­
tion o f ψυχή does not prescrib e the essential m eaning o f the
M N a g y ( 19 9 2 η : 3 2 5 ) com p ares A c h ille s ’ fight w ith S c a m a n d e r w ith
A r c h ilo c h u s ' lost ve rsio n o f H e ra cle s' fight w ith the riv e r A ch cto ü s over
D e ia n ira . A rc h ilo c h u s ninde the riv e r take the fo rm o f u hull (fr. 287
\V = schot, at X X I. 2 3 7 ), an d H o m e r d escrib es S c am an d e r b ello w in g like a
b u ll, p tpvK Ü r ijürr ταύρος (χ χ ι. 2 3 7 ), w h ile co n tin u in g to fight in h is o w n shape.
S o p h o c le s re fe rs to n ve rsio n — p o ssib ly A rc h ilo c h u s' o w n — in w h ich AchcloOs
ch an g ed sh ap e in P rotean fash ion , one o f his gu ises b ein g that o f a hull ( 7Vni7i.
9—2 3 ) . N a g y arg u e s that H o m e r kn ow s hut a v o id s m akin g exp lic it the
trad itio n that figh tin g riv e rs take the shape o f b u lls. O n the o th er hand, it
m ay be that H o m e r’ s versio n and A rc h ilo c h u s’ rep resen t tw o different
re sp o n ses to a trad itio n al association o f ideas: both in H om er an d h isto rically,
b u lls w ere the b easts u su ally sacrificed to rive rs (see x x t. 1 3 1 , w ith N ilsso n
( 19 6 7 ) , 2 3 8 ).
 The Dynamics o f M yth ica l Im age-M aking 277

word. T h e exam p les gath ered in this ch ap ter sh o w that a

system o f u n ity in m u ltip lic ity ch aracterizes the o verall place
of m yth in H o m e r’ s d ep ictio n o f the w o rld . T h e w o rd s avcpi
οσβμίΐΌ ί do not p re sc rib e the id en tity o f S c a m a n d e r the riv e r-
god; the an th ro p o m o rp h ic fo rm o f H elio s does not afTect his
status as the glo w in g d isc in the sk y ; A re s is in d eterm in ately a
phenom enon o f the m ortal w o rld and a d iv in e p erso n ality. It is
because these articu latio n s take shape th ro u gh a lo gic o f
creativity, rather than o f term s, that the id en tity o f A re s,
H elios, or S cam an d er can clo th e itself in d ifferen t form s in
the course o f a sin gle m ovem en t o f p o etry w ith o u t a b su rd ity or
contradiction. If w e accept that, it fo llo w s that the v ariab le
identity o f φνχή is typ ical o f w o rd s o f its kin d .

The double plane of causation

T h is leaves us w ith one final questio n h an gin g o v e r the H o ­
meric view o f w hat it m eans to die. W e su g gested that the
journ ey into the grave is a m yth ical versio n o f the jo u rn e y to
H ades: the tw o articu latio n s are n o rm ally co llap sed into each
other, so that w hen P a tro c lu s’ sh ad e begs fo r a fun eral he can
see the prospect sim u ltan eo u sly as descent into the earth and
personal integration am on g the inhabitants o f H ad es (C h . 6,
pp. 2 i i —13 ). H ere the claim for u n ity in m u ltip lic ity w as m ade
on the level o f fully-H cdged co sm o lo gy rath er than the w o rd -
m eanings, and as such it req u ires separate ju stificatio n .
T h e re is a pointer to w ard s su ch ju stificatio n in one o f the
passages w e have o b served alread y in this ch ap ter. T h e in te r­
vention o f A rc s on H ecto r’ s side in Iliad iv (ab ove, p p . 270 —1)
can be seen as a p ro jection onto the m ythical plane o f a sud d en
rush o f b attle-fu ry insid e H ecto r h im self: and as su ch it is an
exam ple o f the ‘d o u b le plan e’ o f causation, the system w hich
allow s H om er to exp lain sud d en thoughts and em otions both as
independent hum an p sy ch o lo g y and as the interven tion o f
personal d eities.11 T h e cru x is that the tw o plan es exist in

12 V e r y m an y stu d ie s o f th is p ro b le m e x ist, the m ost recen t b ein g

A . S c h m itt (19 9 0 ), pt. t . F o r m e the m ost u se fu l m o n o g rap h has been
Lesley (iq h 't); also h e lp fu l h ave b ee n D o d d s ( i 9 $ t ) , 1 —18 ; S c h w a h l (19 5 4 );
K u llm a n n ( 19 5 6 ) : E rb se (19 8 4 ) ; E d w a rd s (19 8 7 ) , 1 3 1 - 8 ; and Ju n k o (19 9 2 ),
3 -4 . T h e term ‘ o v e r-d e te rm in a tio n ' (D o d d s , S c h w a b l) is u n fo rtu n ate b ecau se
278 The Shaping of M yth

1
harm ony, and the nod’s intervention need not im ply that the
mortal man is less than fully responsible for his actions.33 T his
is borne out m ost sim ply when n single sentence juxtaposes the
two levels, as w hen Phem ius attributes his poetic skills both to
him self and to the inspiration from the god :34
αύτοδιδακτοΓ &’ e q u , 0( ο ς 5 t μ ο ι i v φ ρ ( α 'ιν ο ΐ μ α ς
π α ν τ ο ία ς ( v t f v o f v . (xxii. 347-8; cf. esp. viii. 44—5)

He is sim ultaneously self-taught and instructed by a divine

teacher. T h e principle is the same when D iom edes says that
A chilles w ill eventually respond to divine prom pting and the
urge o f his θ υ μ ό ς ,
Tore S 'a u r e μ α χ η θ ( τ α ι , ottttotc k c v fu i’
Ο νβίος <Vi QTjjOt a a u ' α ν ιίτ γ η ι κ α ι 0< 6ς ö p o rjt . . . ( ix . 7 0 2 —3)
-V«
or when O dysseus tells E urycleia to be quiet despite the thing
which she h erself has discovered and the idea which a god has
placed in her breast:
αΛλ* <77ci Ι φ ρ α σ θ η ς κ α ί τοι Θ *ός ï j i S r i X f Ο ν μ ώ ι,
α ίγ α . (xix. 485-6)

H ere the divine and hum an levels o f causation are co-ordi­

nated, not contrasted, and the two levels o f im age-m aking run
parallel. In the sam e w ay, a character can represent a single
decision or m ovem ent o f thought as originating indeterm in­
ately from w ithin m an or from divine prom pting, as when
Ph oen ix warns A ch illes not to be led into error:35
άλΛα σ ύ μ ή μ ο ι ταύτα von φ ρ € θ ί, μη&< α ( δαι'/ίαιν
(ν τα ΰ Ο α τ ρ ΐφ ίΐι, φ ίλ ο ς . ( IX- 6 θ θ —ι)
it suggests that the Homeric view of motivation should be seen as a single
system or doctrine (cf. Adkins (i960), 10-17, for such an approach). Other­
wise the most dangerous temptation is to sec the so-called G ö ttcr a p p e r a t as an
ornamental device: "D ie poet weaves his fabric frum the threads of rational
human action, and the supernatural is an embroidery or applique of orna­
mental design* (Calhoun (1937); cf. Chantrninc (1954), 61, and Willcock
(1970) ).
,y On this principle see esp. Lesky (196t), 22-32.
11 On the united work o f the two levels of poetic inspiration, see also
Murray (1981).
“ Lesky (1961), 32-4°·
 The Dynamics o f M ythical Im age-M aking 279
Phoenix is not distinguishing two separate routes by w hich
Achilles m ight err, but referrin g to a single psychological event
under its m ythical and non-m ythical aspects.36 E ith er version
would suffice on its own, and the two together arc opposite
sides o f the sam e coin (com pare e.g. V. 2 5 1 —6).
T h e same principle also operates over longer stretches o f
story-telling. F o r exam ple, there is no contradiction w hen an
artefact is described as the w ork o f H ephaestus or A p o llo in one
passage and as the work o f a hum an craftsm an in an other;3' and
a god can m ove am ong men in the guise o f a specific person
without forcing us to ask what has happened to the m ortal
him self at that tim e.3” In each case the m ythical and n on ­
mythical levels run on their ow n separate paths, and the need to
reconcile the tw o docs not arise.
So stated, this pattern correspon ds on the larg er scale to the
semantic pattern w hich allow s a single w ord to have both a
mythical and a non-m ythical id entity at one and the sam e tim e.
In both cases the stu ff o f m yth is latent in the fu rn itu re o f the
world and the events o f m ortal exp erien ce, and the p o et’s
control over the ebb and flow o f im age-m ak in g allow s him to
move without contradiction from one type o f rend ering to the
other. C rucially, how ever, w here m otivation is concerned it is
also possible for H om er to d raw a contrast betw een the d ivin e
and human levels, denying that a thought or em otion w as o f
human origin and assigning it solely to the g o d s.3'3 A m o n g very

See Lcsky (1961), 23. There arc many such instances in which it is
difficult or impossible to tell whether a real bifurcation o f alternatives is in
question (for doubtful instances see e.g. iv. 712—13, xjv. 178-0).
37 Willcock (19 7 0 ) cites the example o f Pandarus' bow, which is once
described as a Kift of Apollo (it. S 2 7 ) and once as the work of a craftsman
who made it from the horns of an ibex which Pandarus himself had shot
(iv. 105-11). For kindred examples o f gifts o f the Rods which can also be seen
as ordinary human acquisitions or skills learnt by mortal wit, see Lesky
{IQUt), 3Ö-I. 7
\Nillcock (.970 use, the example o f Iris address,nK the Trojan assembly
m the R u .se o f I oulydamas ( » . 78(^806). T h e Odyssey shows one curious
example of tins principle be,nR played upon self-consciously, when one o f the
Ithacans is puzzled by the contradiction between Athena's behaviour in the
(’iv,.56503 - i ! ' n ,0 r nKS t h jl HC knOWS ,h c rcal M * n t o r has been d o in g
” L e s k >' < 1 9 6 1 ) . 38 -4 4 ·
28ο The Shaping o f M yth
m any exam ples in both epics, the case o f άτη w ill suffice as an
illu stration .40
L ik e the other individu al nouns that we have studied in this
ch apter, άτη exists on two levels: at one extrem e it denotes the
ruin w h ich results from the folly o f m ortals,41 and at the other
extrem e it is a d ivin e being whom Z eus (or occasionally
an other god : sec iv. 2 6 1—2, xv . 2 3 3 —4) releases in order to
d riv e m en to that sam e ruin. Phoenix builds up the contours
o f th is personal A te when he warns A chilles o f the conse­
q uen ces o f p rid e:42

ή S ' Ά τ η aO evapi) Tf «a i a p r in o s , ο ΰ ν ικ α n a a n s
ιτοΛλόν VTrcKTtpoditt, φΟά m S i r t π ά σ α ν i n ' a ia v
β λ ά π τ ο ν ο ' avO ptiin ovs· (ΧΧ. 5 °S —7 )

C o m in g as it does in a speech o f stern adm onition, this image

o f A te as a personal agent cannot im ply that her personal
presence m akes A ch illes any less blam ew orthy for what will
ensue: once again, the w orld o f m ortals and the world of
d ivin ity are one and the sam e. H ow ever, there is a crucial
differen ce betw een H o m er’s evocation o f άτ-η and the pattem
w hich w e have observed in other nouns. In certain circum ­
stances A te is treated as a divinity specifically in order to argue
that the folly in question did not originate with the mortal
agent. A gam em n on su b tly exploits this when he adm its that
he erred by alienating A chilles. First, when his peers arc
gathered around him in private he adm its that the folly was
his ow n, ΐμας άτας (ix. 1 1 5; cf. I. 4 i 2 = x v i. 274), and he co­
ordinates the two levels o f causation by saying that the fault
lay both in his own <f>pives and in the favour which Zeus
show ed to A chilles:

« On Homeric άττ, see Stnllmnch (1968); Lloyd-Joncs (197·). ch. 1; Doyle

(1984), 7-22; Erbse (1986). 11—15.
41 For ά τ η used without a bint of its mythical identity, see c g. v i . 556,
V I I I . 237, X . 391. X X I V . 28: xxi. 302. It is cognate with the verb ά ά ω ( s e e l.fg r E
s.v. for the philology) and seems to be associated closely with it in sense, since
the two words a r e often linked by fig u r a e ty m o lo g ic a ( V I I I . 237, X I X . Q l , 129.
13Λ-7; XX' 295-302).
41 On the (possible) creative originality of Phoenix’ image of Ate and the
Supplications, who are daughters of Zeus, see Doyle (19 8 4 ), 7 - 2 2 ; Erbse
( iq R6), 1 1 - 1 5 ; and Hainsworth nt IX. 5 0 5 - 1 2 .
 The Dynamics o f M ythical Image-M aking 281
ά α α ά μ η ν . ονό* α ν τ ο ζ ά ν α ίν ο ficu. λ ϊ *τ ι ν ν ττοΛΑ<ΰι·
λ α ώ ν Ι σ τ ιν ά ν η ρ ον τ ί Ζ · ύ ς κ ή ρ ι φ ιλ η σ η ι,
tlii νΰν τ ο ν το ν < τ< ισ ί, δ ά μ α o a t δ ί λαοί* /Ι^ α ιώ ν .
άΑΑ’ ί α f i ά α α ά μ η ν Φ ρ<αί λ ιίτ / α λ ίη ια ι π ιΟ ή αας,
αφ iOcXui ά ρ ία α ι δ ό μ ίν α ί τ ' ά π< ρ<(α ι' ά π ο ιν α . (iX . I ΐ 6 —2θ )

H ow ever, when the final reconciliation takes place and A g a ­

memnon addresses the assem bled host he shifts the cause
squarely onto the divine level and denies that he h im self
deserves the blam e:'”
<y<!i 5'o iW n fn o y ci'/n, *
άΛλά Z t v i κ α ί Μ ο ίρ α κ α ί ίμ ρ ο φ ο ίτ l ï 'K ptvvs,
ο ΐ re ju » tiv ά γ α ρ ή ι φ ρ (θ ίν ίμ β α λ ο ν ó yp io v ά τ η ν . (ΧΙΧ. 8 6 —8)

M oving onto the plane o f fully m ythical narrative, he tells how

Zeus him self was subject to A te until he expelled her in person
from O lym pus and sent her to plague m ortals. A gam em non
ends his speech in alm ost the sam e w ords as those w hich he
used in the earlier m eeting w ith the elders, b ut with the change
that he identifies his άτη as a force from outside:
oil δ ύ να μ η ν ΧτληΟίοΟ' λ Ι τ η ς , i)t π ρ ώ τ ο ν άάαΟ ην,
dAA* «ττίΐ ά α α ά μ η ν κ α ί μ * ν φ ρ ςνα ς r^cAero Z t V j .
αφ tOiXtii a p ta n t δ ό μ ίν α ί τ ’ ó rrtp tio i ’ ΰττοίνα. <«3^ - 8)

W hen Agam em non defied A ch illes he was sub ject to a deity

whom even the king o f the gods was once pow erless to resist.
T hroughout this speech he presses hom e a rhetorical point by
exploiting the fluid possibilities contained in the w ord άτη
41 L e s k y 's analysis o f this passage ( 1 9 6 1 : 3 9 -4 2 ) is revised b y E rb se (19 8 6 :
t i- « 5 ) . w ho argues that A gam em n on uses the sto ry o f A te expelled from
O lym p u s not to sh ift blam e from h im se lf to the d eity, hut rather to defend
h im self on the g m u n d s that not even Z eu s is p ro o f against her influence w hen
she is near b y. T a p lin (10 9 2 : 2 0 3—12 ) arg u es that the w o rd s «y-ώ 2'ο ύ κ αΓτι<5ϊ
rifu ought to im p ly in them selves that A gam em n on ow es A ch ille s no
reparation, so that they do not square w ith the rest o f w hat A gam em n on is
sayin g and doing: his speech in volves 'a blatant non lequitu r' (209) and ‘ his
b lam ing o f the gods is cle arly special p lead in g' f208). I d o not know w ho is
right: w e m ight be ab le to decide if w e kn ew w hat A ch ille s m eans w hen he
refers ob liq u ely to A g am em n o n 's speech w ith the verb κλοτοττ<ναν (x ix . 149 ),
hut this hapax b ailies the learned.
■“ N o tice the verbal parallel in A ch ille s' speech to the E m b assy, fpprrca— ) k
γάρ ni φρίνας «»Aero μ η τ ίίτ α 2 cvt (ιχ . 377)· w h ere the im age cannot im p ly any
dim inution o f A gam em n o n 's gu ilt (cf. also vt. 2 34 , x v ti. 4 6 9 -7 0 . x v tti. 3 1 1 ,
28z The Shaping of Myth *.·£'
’·>.· #*:·;.
. .

T h at is not to say that Agam em non is sim ply lying or . -

dissim ulating when he draw s out such one-sided images. If
this were the case, Achilles could not concur in the wny that he
docs in the final ritual o f reconciliation:'*5 „ <
Ζ < ύ π-άττρ, i; μ < γ ά λ α % g r a y avSprooi StSotoOg·
oi/K αν δτ] 7 T o r t θυμοί· <νι ο τι]θ (σ ο ιυ Ιμ ο ΐα ιν
s lr p t ió rjs w p ivf δ ια μ τ τ ίρ ί;, οϋδ( Kf Kovpyjv
y)γ<ν Ιμ < ύ JfV o ir o y α μ ή χ α ν ο ς · αλλά π οθ ι Ζ ( ύ ς
ήΟ<λ' ΐίχ α ιο ίσ ιν Οάι ατοι· π ο λ ίκ ο ο ι y tita B a t. (XIX. 2 7 0 —4)

In the w id er context of the W rath as a whole, A chilles' words

suggest not only that it is possible for what has happened to be
explained in several alternative w ays, but also that each of the
levels o f explanation remains fully valid on its own. Priam docs
som ething sim ilar when he tells Helen that she is not respon­
sible for the w ar because it is the work o f the gods:-*6
ou n μ ο ι a Μ η co at, Ocot νό μ ο ι α ίτ ιο ί t io iv ,
Oi μ ο ι ίφ ώ ρ μ η σ α ν πόλ<μον ττολνδακρυν Μ χα ιινν. (i l l . 16 4 —5)

It would also have been possible to attribute the elopement

either to her and P aris’ folly or indeterm inately to them and the
gods together (cf. e.g. vi. 3 5 5 —8, x m . 6 20-39 ; iv. 14 5 -6 ), but in
these special rhetorical circum stances Priam produces a special
image, exp licitly contrasting the divine level with the human.*7
W hat he says takes its m eaning— and its generosity— from the
w ay it em erges from a m uch w ider range o f possibilities for
im age-m aking.

The double plane of death

In this w ay, the picture w hich em erges is that the shifting
perspectives in shifting contexts are all valid in their own ways:
there is no single definition o f the relationship between human
and divine agency, and the system makes sense only if we
w here th e sa m e im a g e o f taken a w a y b y a Rod ap p ears in less grave
c o n te x ts ).
45 C o m p are Zeus* com plaint that m ortals blam e the gods for their own
follies (i. 3 2 -4 ).
■** L c s k y ( 19 6 t ) , 39 -4 0 .
47 O n this passage see T a p lin (19 9 2 ). 9<>-«°3: 'P u ttin g 0,1 the blam e on the
gods is, in effect, an attem pt to reduce the double m otivation to sin gle' (too).

‘ I
 The Dynamics o f M ythical Itnagc-Aiahing 283
consider it in its full breadth and com plexity.·48 T h is begs to be
compared with the principle that what lies beyond death is
simultaneously a jo u rn ey to the darkness o f the grave and a
journey to the darkness o f H ades. T h e two levels are yoked
together in Patroclus’ plea that he be buried and by the same
token allowed to pass fu lly into H ades:

θ ά π τ < μ ι σ τ τ ι τ ά χ ισ τ α , ττύλ α ς Α ίδ α ο m p r ja o j, (XXIII. 7 *)

Structurally, this corresponds exactly to the pattern in exp res­

sions like Phem ius’ α ύ τ ο & ίδ α κ τ ό ς ΐΐμ ι . . ., ‘ I am self-taught and
inspired by the g o d ’ . W hen his m ythical integration into H ades
and the non-m ythical process o f burial are ju xtap o sed in a
single sentence they are exactly co-ordinated, the one im plyin g
the other without challenge or am b igu ity. T h e sam e path is
followed in a slightly different w ay b y the shade o f E lpen or,
when he asks to be given a funeral and refers to his physical
substance indeterm inately as ‘h im se lf (xi. 7 2 —4); and th ro u gh ­
out the shaping o f death-lore this su p p le un ity enables death to
be expressed on cither level or on both at once.
H ow ever, we saw that this correspondence between the two
aspects o f the jo u rn ey o f death is replaced by a co m p lex
bifurcation in the deaths o f Patroclus and H ector, because
here the poet articulates a contrast between the corpse w hich
remains in the m ortal w orld and the ψυχή w h ich flics o ff to the
unseen world o f H ades. Ju st as in A g am em n on ’ s d escription o f
his own άτη, H om er exploits the sem antic com plexities o f a
single noun to separate som ething o ff from the w o rld o f m ortal
experience and assign it to the w orld o f m yth. In both cases the
complex articulation m akes sense only as a developm ent on the
basis o f the sim pler ones w hich lie behind it, and no one im age
is a more significant part o f the H om eric realities than another.
C rucially, it is the com plex articulation w hich seem s to answ er
best to a m odern W estern view o f the w o rld . Ju st as a view o f
human m otivation w hich attributes som e things to divine
influence and others to hum an folly is ap pealin g to m odern
ideas about religious m odes o f thought, so the m yth o f the
flying ψυχή looks at first sight like p ro o f o f a doctrine o f the

On the point that the elements of the system are complementary rather
than mutually contradictory, sec Lcsk y ( 19 6 1) , 42.
284 The Shapin g o f M yth
so u l. In its H o m e ric con text, h o w ev er, each is o n ly one among
m a n y p o ssib le w o rk in g s-o u t o f a larg er n exu s o f im ages and
cre a tiv e p a tte rn s: and it is the w h o le o f this n exu s, rather then
an y one o f its p ro d u cts, w h ich m akes sense in the H om eric
w o rld -p ic tu re .
It is in th is w a y that the im age o f the flyin g ψ υ χ ή em erges
fro m , b u t does n ot go vern or su p ersed e, the sh iftin g patterns of
H o m e r's co n cep tio n o f the dead m an ’ s jo u rn ey to H ades. T h e
so u rce s o f im a g e-m ak in g are fixed in his traditional repertoire,
and the ran ge o f p o ssib ilities for their articulation is fixed by
the trad itio n al tech n iq u es o f com position , so that an overall
u n ity u n d e rlies the p o et’s m ovem ent along differen t paths o f
so n g 40 to p ro d u ce d ifferen t im ages and m yths. I f we accept this
p o in t w e can ap p reciate the auth entically H om eric character of
the flyin g ψ ν χ ή w ith o u t lettin g it m islead us into believin g that
H o m e r secs m an and his identity in the dualistic w ay that such
th in gs m igh t b e seen in our own age. In this w ay w e can
co n clu d e both b y con firm ing our original hypothesis and by
acceptin g H o m e r's lore o f m an and ψ υ χ ή in its full variety. In
the w o rd s o f an oth er m aker o f subtle im ages, the m yth is saved
and is not lost: ο ΰ τ ιυ ς oui' ό μ ύ θ ο ς to iiiO i j κ α ί ο ύ κ άττώλίτο.’ 11

O n sonR as a road o r path (ο'μο ς, οΐμη) see csp . x x ii. 3 4 7 , /1. M e rc . 4 5 1 ,

w ith T h a lm a n n ( 10 8 4 : 1 2 3 - 5 ) . and the w id e r cle an in g s o f B ec k e r (19 3 7 ),
D u ra n te (19 6 8 0 , 19 6 8 6 ).
,0 PI. R c ip . 6 2 1 1>7.
 EPILOGUE

F le sh and S p ir it in L a n g u a g e
and L o r e a fte r H o m e r

Our reconstruction o f H o m eric ideas has rested on the o b s e r v ­

able m eanings o f certain w o rd s, ab o ve all ψνχή and the n oun s o f
the Ονμός fam ily. T h e p o licy has been to treat the sem antic
range o f each w o rd as the in d ex to a sign ifican t cu ltu ral u n ity:
in effect the w o rd ’ s m ean in g b ecam e the m ap o f a p ro vin ce o f
the H om eric w orld picture. B u t it m igh t be o b jected that a poet
or any user o f language is the m aster and not the slave o f the
w ords he uses. H o w ev er d eeply H o m er is rooted in his
Kunstsprache, o r h o w ever clearly he exp resses the trad ition
em bodied b y the M u se , still it is im p o ssib le to p ro ve that the
categories o f his vo cab u lary corresp o n d exa c tly to the con cepts
and beliefs that shape his view o f m an. C o n sid e r M . L . W est’ s
dism issal o f argum en ts relyin g on the point that H o m er (unlike
H esiod) n ever ap plies the w o rd οώ/χα to a liv in g b ody rather
than a corpse:

[αώμα is u s e d ] in H o m e r o n l y o f the d e a d b o d y . . ., th e l i v i n g b o d y
b e in g re p re s e n te d b y μ t \ t a , γ υ ϊ α , a n d w h e r e a p p r o p r i a t e b y δέμα ς
‘ b u i l d ’ , χ ρ ώ ϊ ‘ s k i n ’ . M u c h h a s b e e n m a d e o f th is b y B . S n e l l [se e
o u r C h . 4, p p . 1 1 5 - 1 0 ] · · - w h o a r g u e s th a t I l o m e r h a s n o
c o n c e p t io n o f th e b o d y as a p h y s ic a l u n ity . . . E t y m o l o g y t h r o w s
no lig h t on th e o r ig i n a l s e n s e , b u t i f it h a d b e e n ‘c o r p s e ’ its
a p p lic a tio n to th e l i v i n g b o d y c o u ld n e v e r h a v e c o m e a b o u t. O f
H o m e r I s h o u l d s a y th at h e s i m p l y d i d not h a v e o c c a s io n to r e f e r to
a n y p e r s o n 's l iv e b o d y as a lump, j u s t as h e d id not h a v e o c c a s io n
(as H e s i o d d o c s in I I ’D 5 1 5 ) to re fer to the ρινάς o f a liv e a n im a l.
H e h a d o t h e r w o r d s f o r th e b o d y a s a v isu a l o b je c t (δέμας, etióor), as
a r e p o s it o r y fo r e n e r g y a n d s t r e n g t h (μ«Λ<α, yufa), e tc .; σ ώ μ α
e n c ro a c h e d u p o n th e ir t e r r it o r y in la ter G r e e k , as ι/τυχι) d id u p o n
that o f th e H o m e r i c θ υ μ ό ς.'

West at Hes. I I’D 540.

2 S6 Epilogue: Flesh and Spirit after Homer
W est's argum ent can be criticized in detail— for exam ple, it is
hard to see how a poet who could name the body as a unit
would 'sim ply not have occasion’ to use that word anywhere in
thousands o f lines describing such things as hand-to-hand
com bat: hut the fact remains that the sceptic can pour cold
w ater on any attem pt to use w ords as an index o f ideas. For
φυχή in particular we have been dogged by two questions: Does
the sem antic range o f this word bear directly on H om er’s
conception o f what happens when a man breathes his last?
A nd docs the fact that φυχή and the ϋυμ.ό<; fam ily come to the
fore in different contexts, overlapping only at the m om ent of
the last breath, indicate that the locus o f mental life is distinct
from anything that passes into the afterlife?
T h is is a case o f one o f the m ost aw kw ard questions in
sociolinguistics, the question which dogs any claim that the
norm s o f a language can prescribe the beliefs and conceptual
schem es o f its speech-com m unity. I f a native Am erican
language has a peculiar and untranslatable tense-system , docs
that tell us som ething about its speakers’ conception o f time? If
the Inuit had a hundred different w ords for snow, would it
mean that they interpret the sight o f a white C hristm as in a
different w ay from you and m e?3 I f the N u cr people speak o f
twin children as if they were birds and vice versa, docs this bear
witness to a deep interactive structure in their understanding o f
what both those things m ean?4 It seem s that among academic
linguists it is no longer respectable to claim that languages in
general have this prescriptive po w er,5 and I can do no m o r e
4 A m on g lin gu ists the tabel 'S n p ir—W h o rf hypoth esis’ s t ic h to nr.os.
version s o f this claim (sec c sp . S a p ir ( 1 9 2 1 ) , W h o rf (19 56 )). In practice,
m odern assessm ents o f the hypothesis seem s to centre primarily on the
p re scrip tive p o w er o f syn tactic stru ctures and only secondarily on the mean­
in gs o f w ords. C o lo u r term s and kinship term s are the examples most often
chosen, and 1 have not found any serious discussion o f the cultural power of
the category o f w o rd s in w h ich 1 place ψυχή— that is, the class of nouns which
(a) lack con crete referents and (b) are im portant in the expression o f «rrious
traditional b eliefs. T h is is not the place to argue out m y hunch that in any
language such nou n s m ay have an especially in sidious pow er to prescribe the
categories o f thought.
* O n the h isto ry o f this en du rin g m yth see P u llu m ( 19 9 1) , ch. 1.
4 E v an s-P ritch ard (19 5 6 ), 12 8 —3 3 .
5 Sec c.g. Hudson (1980), 103-5; Pinker (1994), 59-64, comparing the
essays in Hoijcr (1954) and Penn (1972).
 Epilogue: Flesh and S p irit after Homer 287
here than suggest that the language o f H o m eric epic m ay be a
special case. A general appeal can be m ade to the argum en ts
advanced in C hapter i , w h ere I suggested that H o m eric
language and ideas arc bound together in an especially intim ate
w ay because o f the pow er and an tiquity o f the poetic tradition
which sim ultaneously prescribes both w ords and w o rld -
picture. H ow ever, in this epilo gu e I w ill try to advan ce a
further, m ore dow n-to-earth argum en t fo r the cultural sig n ific­
ance o f φυχή. W e w ill see that in G re e k o f the period im m ed i­
ately after H om er the w ord has a v e ry differen t ch aracter, w ith a
range o f m eaning w hich serves to associate m ental life w ith life
after death in a w ay that has no parallel in the early epic.
M oreover, it w ill em erge that this sem antic change exactly
matches religious and cultural inn ovation s that are attested
for the sam e historical period. T h e eviden ce for both lin gistic
and cultural change w ill b olster the suspicion that the w o rd
φυχή answ ers to significant concepts in the conceptual w o rld o f
its users, both for H om er and for others w ho w ield ed G re e k
with authority in the period after the fixin g o f the H o m eric text.

The concept of the soul

It is plain at a glance that concepts o f b o d y and soul w ere firm ly
fixed in G reek culture by the C lassical period, that is the late
fifth and fourth centuries. A t this tim e in tellectu als’ assu m p ­
tions about the structure o f m an can seem closer to those o f our
own age than to those o f H om er. Γο P lato , for exam p le, it is
ob\ ious that the soul is a reality, w h atever its true nature m ay
be: it is a constant w hich underlies his d ifferen t versio n s o f the
struggle between body and sp irit, m ortal and im m ortal in
human life.6 Even the sceptics in the Phaedo do not question

t.iv u v tciu p m cn i o i n a t o s o
ovw n th in k in g than ab o u t his in tellectu al
background, and it need not co n cern
rn us h ere. T h e Laics o ffers a v e r y u se fu l
definition o f the ψυχή as that w h ich i
h is se lf-m o v in g an d c o n se q u e n tly d iv in e
(L a a s 8 9 10 -8 9 60).
2 ^S Epilogue: fle sh mid Spirit after Hamer
the p resu p p o sitio n that if there is an afterlife the survivor
b eyo n d the grave w ill be the sam e ns the ψυχή which had
existed in the livin g m an; and the struggle to becom e 'm aster of
m y s e lf m akes sense o n ly if the b ody is distinguishable from the
so u l, the n o n -b o d ily core w hich is to achieve that m astery.7
T h e ψυχή in turn shades into ‘ m y s e lf, so that the thinking
m in d and the im m ortal sp irit are identified w ith each other and
distanced b y the sam e token trom the periphery o f the body.8
H o w , then, do we b rid g e the g u lf between H om er and the
fo u rth -ce n tu ry thinker? It is possible (if no m ore) that the new
con cept w as injected into G reek culture through the influence
o f a sin g le w ell-d efin ed intellectual m ovem ent: perhaps as a
resu lt o f the grow th o f new doctrines o f soul am ong the Ionian
p h iloso p h ers, perhaps because o f the dissem ination o f esoteric
d octrin es associated w ith O rphic or Pythagorean teachings. As
w e turn to the eviden ce for those doctrines it w ill be im possible
to prove that they represent currents o f thought that were
strong enough to m ould the G re e k language; but they w ill at
least give us som e insight into ideas that seem ed new and
d istin ctive in their tim e.
A m o n g the Preso cratic philosophers, ψυχή and later roos take
on an increasingly significant role both in hum an psychology
and the m acrocosm . T h e m ajor innovators seem to have been
A n axim en es and H eraclitus for ψυχή and A naxagoras for eooy.
A p p aren tly A n axim enes took ψυχή to em body the essence of
self-p rop elled m otion in the sam e w ay as the air w hich imbues
the un iverse itself: οιον ή ψυχή, ψηαίν, ή ήμ(τίρα αήρ ονσα
συγκρατίΐ ήμάς, και 5\ον τον κόσμον ττν(ϋμα και ar/p τκριόχιι (fr.
16 0 K R S ) .·' If this is to m ake sense, he m ust be seeing the ψυχή

7 S e c In gen k n am p (19 7 5 ) . 5 1 - 6 1 ; also cf. L o v ih o n d ( 1 9 9 1 : 50), e m p h as­

iz in g w hat she secs as the n o v e lty o f S o cra te s’ em phasis on the m oral role o f
ψ υχή, 'th e debut o f a w o rld -h isto ric idea: that o f the ceulred o r integrated
subject' (50). O n S o cra tic an d P laton ic concepts o f ψυχή, see nlso C la u s (19 8 1) ,
15 6 - 8 0 ; and on their P reso cratic antecedents, see W right (19 9 0 ).
" O n this point see esp. I lavciock (19 7 2 ) . 9: 'T o con ceive o f self-d iale ctic ns
an o p eratio n o f p rim a ry im portance to a p erso n 's w e lfa re and then to im agine
it ns p ro ceed in g in side the ghost w as to assert im plicitly that the essence o f life
w as in trosp ective th o u g h t'.
v A s K R S poin t out ad Inc., the w o rd in g o f this passage is p ro b ab ly not
A n a x im e n e s' o w n ; so that it cannot be ab solu tely guaranteed that ψυχή w as the
w o rd on w h ich he hun g this doctrine.
 Epilogue: Flesh ami S p irit after Homer 289
as the active foundation o f life rather than m erely as som ething
released w hen it ends. H eraclitus clearly regarded the ψυχή as
central to hum an n a tu re ,10 though it is h ard er to say w h eth er he
explicitly form ulated a d ichotom y betw een b o d y and s o u l;"
hut, how ever that m ay be, his ψυχή m ust be far aw ay from the
H om eric conception if he can im agine it as having hidden
depths: ψ υ χ ή ς rrcipara ίων ούκ civ tvpoto , πάσαν ίττητορ(υόμ(νος
ΰδόν· οι'τω ß n flh v λόγον ΐ χ ί ΐ (fr. 232 K R S ) . T h is im age Stands
alongside others in w hich (if the w o rd in g is h is own) H eraclitus
seem s to regard the ψ>υχή in a less m ysteriou s senseras the core
of human identity: men who trust in their senses too m uch have
barbarous ψυχαί (B 10 7 D —K ), d runkenness m akes the ψ ω χ ή %vct
(fr. 2 3 1 K R S ; cf. 229), and a d ry ψυχή is w isest (fr. 230 K R S ) .
A m an's ψ υ χ ή is the centre o f his con sciousn ess, and this links it
to d ivinity: the m ysteriou s w o rd s ήθος άνθρώττωι δαίμων (fr. 247
K R S ) seem to m ean cither that m an ’s personality is d ivin e, or
conversely that what m en call δαίμων is no m ore than the
essence (or product?) o f the hum an c h aracter.12 E ith e r w ay,
for H eraclitus as for A n axim enes there is an auton om ous sp irit
in man w hich som ehow partakes o f d ivin ity.
T h e evidence about the Pythagoreans and the exponents o f
,u S ee exp frs. 2 2 9 - 3 2 K R S . O n ψυχή in H e ra clitu s see M . C . N u ssb au m
(19 7 2 ), B arn es 0 9 7 9 ). i 6 t ; K ah n (19 7 9 ). *4 9 ! S c h o field ( 1 9 9 1 ) ; D ilch c r
(«995). ch. 5. B oth N u ssb a u m ( 1 - 1 4 ) and S c h o fie ld ( 2 1^ 7 ) p ro p o se that
H eraclitus is em p h asizin g the positive role o f the ψυχή in life as on e xp licit
counterblast again st the H o m eric con cep tion . N u ssb a u m fu rth e r m uintains
( 15 3 - 8 ) that H eraclitu s attacks the H o m e ric assu m p tio n that the co rp se ,
nithcr than the tiuyij, is the tru e T o f the dead p e rso n : here the evid en ce is
fr. 2 29 and the in trig u in g ap op h th egm that ‘co rp se s d e se rve to be throw n
aw ay m ore than d u ng , w kv<; tcortpiujv ίκ β λ η τtlrcgoi ( B 96 D —K ). S c h o field (2 7 —
34) opposes this em p h asis. M o re d ifficu lt is the qu estion o f the co sm ic role o f
ψυχαί: sec K R S pp. 2 0 3—5.
S e c csp . Sch o field ( 1 9 9 1 ) , 1 3 —15 . T h e b est can didate for an e xp licit
form ulation o f a b o d y-so u l m odel w ould b e the rem ark ab le fragm en t (Π 67a
D - K ) according to w h ich H eraclitu s is su pposed to h ave com pared the soul in
the b o d y to a sp id e r at the cen tre o f its w e b . A s the fragm en t is in L a tin and at
several rem oves from the o rig in al, using the w o rd anim a, w e cannot be sure
that ψυχή w as the w o rd o rig in a lly used, and it is not certain that the account o f
H eraclitus* d octrin e is gen u in e an yw ay (com pare K ra n z (19 3 8 ). w h o accepts it
fu lly , w ith the d ou b ts o f M arco vich (19 (17 : 5 7 7 ) ). T h e fragm en t is again
discussed and argued fro m by M . C . N u ssb a u m ( 19 7 2 : 6 -8 ). and in detail b y
D itcher (19 9 5 ). 8 2 - 4 .
11 K R S ad loc. su ggest the latter. C f. fr. 78 D - K .
290 Epilogue: Flesh and Spirit after Homer
O rphic w isdom points in the same direction, although the
paucity o f the evidence makes it less than certain that in pre­
Classical tim es they d rew on a clearly fram ed concept o f the
so u l.11 T h e fragm ents o f the first part o f the D erveni papyrus,
dated about 300 nc, seem to refer to a doctrine that souls, ψνχαί,
depart to H ades and becom e spirits o f the U nderw orld named
as δαίμονΐς or 'Epivvtf,14 and in principle it is hard to see how
any doctrine o f transm igration and reincarnation could have
been articulated w ithout a clear notion o f a spirit separable
from the b o d y .15 H ow ever, the earliest direct evidence for
O rphic doctrine dates from the late fifth and fourth centuries,
and there is no telling when such doctrines were first made
e x p licit.16 T h e sense o f body and soul that was sum m ed up in
tags like ‘body is tom b ’ , σώμα σήμα (see esp. PI. Crat. 400c;
Grg. 4 9 3a , ~3) and ‘ body is garm ent o f soul’ , σώμα χιτών
11 F o r Pyth agorean so u l-d o ctrin e considered as a novel invention, see
Jae g e r (19 47), 8 3 -9 . B u rk e rt (19 7 2 : 1 3 3 - 5 ) does not com m it h im self: 'T o
w hat extent does the doctrin e [o f m etem psychosis] im ply clearly form ulated
beliefs, and how im portant w as the w ord ψυχή} W as there present at its
b eginn ing the significant sem an tic innovation w hereby the soul was regarded
ns the com plete coalescence o f life-sou l and consciousness— a w orld aw ay
from the H om eric con cep tion — or is “ so u l” prim arily a m ysterious, m eta­
em pirical se lf, independent o f consciousness, as som e im portant witnesses
seem to indicate? . . . It is o n ly too easy for the m odern scholar, from the
vantage point o f h is ow n rationalistic and system atic activities, to suppose that
at the b eginn ing there w as a unified, carefu lly w orked out, and firm ly defined
th eo ry.’ (C f. B u rk crl (19 8 5), 300.)
14 On the fragments o f cols. I ll and IV of the Derveni papyrus, see e;p.
Tsantsanoglou (19 9 7), and on its origins sec csp. Janko (1997).
15 For the transmigrating soul as ψυχή see Xenophanes, fr. 7a, 4 W 'e n
which sec also Regenbogen (19 48 ), 22), and cf. Hdt. 2. 12 3 , Ion B 4 D - K ; also
Claus (19 8 1), 1 1 1—2 1 . For the transmigrating soul as δ α ί μ ω ν see E m p ed o clis,
frs. 4 0 1 ,4 0 7 K R S , comparing Heraclitus' ήθος irOpw-nwi δο/μα»- (fr. 247 KP.S)
11 It is impossible to do more than speculate about the gold tablet fr"»n
llipponium (f.465 lie; see below, n. 53 ) which contains instructions abou* the
journey of the dead man’ s ψυχή into Hades for reincarnation, and describes the
activity of the souls waiting in Hades with the line Μ α κατ€ρχΐμ·ναι ψυχα!
Μκΰων ψύχουτ αι. 1 Iere the fig u ra etymologica apparently equates the movement
of the ψυχαί with the strcngthless movement of wind. (See Ch. 5, pp. 144—7 00
the link with strengthless blowing in verbs in ψυχ-.) Calvert Watkins (in a
seminar discussion at Cam bridge (England). M ay (1994)) has suggested a
translation based on a different part o f the semantic range of the verb: 'T h e
souls of the dead chill themselves out.’ In the absence of dearer evidence no
firm answer is possible.
 Epilogue: Flesh and S p irit after Homer 291
Φυχν*ι>7 *s not necessarily as old as was claim ed by the later
proponents o f such w isdom . T h e m inim al fact rem ains that in
the form current in Plato’s day it was part o f the basis o f
O rphic and Pythagorean doctrine that man has an im m ortal or
spiritual part and a m ortal or b odily part. A p p aren tly Ph ilolaus
represented this as an inheritance from ancient lore:
μ α ρ τ υ ρ ίο ν τ α ι δτ κα ι ο ι η α λ α ιο ι Ο ςολόγοι r e κ α ι μ ά ν τ ίίς δ ιά r iv a s τ ιμ ω ρ ία ς
ά ψ υχά ru n ο ιΰ μ α τ ι σ ν ιΊ ζ τ ν κ τ α ι κ α ι καΟ άπτρ Ι ν σ ά μ α τ ι τοι'τουι τ ί θ ιιπ τ α ι.
(Ü 14 D -K ; cf. frs. 45°—5 K P S )
✓
If the soul is ‘yoked to’ the body and ‘ buried in ’ the body in
such a w ay that one’s m oral and intellectual life w ill be tied to
the same so u l’s fate in the afterlife, it m ust follow that the
mental ‘ I ’ and the su rvivo r o f death are a single entity, begging
to be called the soul o f m an, ,
One enigm atic fragm ent o f the H csio d ic Catalogue o f
Women— o f uncertain date, but p ro b ab ly earlier than 500
dc 1*— offers a final shred o f evidence for a doctrine in w hich
ψυχή is the carrier o f hum an identity in a cycle o f resurrection
and rebirth. Part o f Z e u s’ plan for the T ro ja n W ar w as
ostensibly to bring about the deaths o f heroes, ιτρ[6]φααιν μ ίν
όλί'σΟαι I ψυχάς ήμιΟΙw[v (fr. 204. 9 9 -10 0 M —W ), but to translate
them afterwards to new life in the Isles o f the Blest (lines 10 2 —
4). In the H om eric variant on this m yth, w hich appears when
Proteus prophesies M en elau s’ future (iv. 5 6 1 - 5 ; com pare also
Hes. W D 16 7 -7 3 ), the jo u rn ey to new life is m ade by the bodily
hero who will sim ply avoid death altogether and be rem oved to
E lysiu m .19 I he poet o f the Catalogue seem s to have articulated
a very different version, in w hich the φ υ χ α ί o f the heroes depart
from their bodies and carry their identity into their new state o f
On σ ώ μ α χ ι τ ώ ν ψ υ χ ή ς see Z u n tz ( 1 9 7 1 ) , 2 0 5 . 4 0 5 -6 . T h e O rp h ic poem
T)tr Robe seem s to have presented the relatio n sh ip o f soul to b o d y in term s o f
the interstices o f air in a net: sec W est ( 19 8 3 : 10 ), q u otin g PI. Γι'. 7 8 b ff. T h e
authenticity o f the fragm ent o f P h ilo lau s q u o te d here has been severely
doubted (see H uffm an (19 9 3 ), 404-Ó).
“ W est (19 8 5 0 : 13 0 - 7 ) suggests a date as lo w as 'b etw een 58 0 and 5 2 0 ' for
the Catalogue, w hile ja n k o ( ,9 8 2 : 2 2 i - S ) a rg u e s from the diction that the
poem is closely linked, at least, to H esiod p ro p e r.
' T h e m ythology o f E ly siu m is co m p le x and d o u b tfu l and cannot be

~ CSP· BUrkC" ( ,9 6 0 ; S — > > - o o d ( . 995).

 292 E pilogue: Flesh and S p irit a jlcr Homer
im m o rtality. G a p s in the p ap yru s m ake the connection o f ideas
d ifficu lt to fo llo w , b u t it seem s that the poet first describes the
grim w eath er that grip p ed the earth after Z e u s ’ decision to
cause the T r o ja n W ar, and then m oves on to tell o f a snake
(άτριχος, 1. 12Q, a kenning), w hich descends into underground
d arkn ess and is d estroyed b y the w eapons o f Z eus:

α λ λά μ ιν ν β ρ ιfTTijr τ ι κ α ι [ά γ ρ ιο ν
κ ή λ α d tcjf δα/irä i φ ή Ay. [
ψ ο χ ή τ ο ύ [ y ’ J ο ίη κα τα λα 'ττ*[τα ι
■η B ' ά μ φ ' α ν τ ό χ ρ τ ο ν 0αΑαμ[
ι)β α ιη ν κ α τ ά x(J[ovor
f l a w άμαυρα> 0( f o [ . JrroOrf
Kfïrai δ τχ [

(fr. 204. 13 7 -14 3 M-W )

INI. L . W est has m ade the ingenious suggestion 20 that the

passage e xp ressed an analog)· between the fate o f the heroes
and the life cycle o f the snake: the heroes die but arc restored
b y Z e u s to their blessed afterlife, ju st as the snake descends into
the earth and is m iracu lo u sly restored to life when it sloughs ofF
its skin and re-em erges. S in ce the lines are incom plete and the
fragm en t breaks o ff before the end o f the account o f the snake,
W est’s suggestion rem ains un proven . I f he is right, the words
i j iv g r ) τ ο ύ [y ’j of η κ a τ u λ c ί π e \ τ a ι im ply that the ψ ν χ η o f the snake
su rv iv e s apart from its body and passes on to give life to its new
incarnation; and the echo o f the earlier w ords π ρ [ ό ] φ α α ι ν μ ί ν
ο λ ί σ θ α ι I ψ ν χ ά ς - ή μ ι θ < ι ο \ ν (11. 99—100) suggests that that process is
presen ted as an exact parallel to what happens to the ψ υ χ α ί of
the heroes translated by Z eu s. A gain , the fragm en tary word
ά μ α υ ρ ι ο Ο ϊ ί σ [.] (w hose stem at least is clearly legible) recalls the
H o m eric c t h m X o v α μ α υ ρ ό ν (iv. 824, 835), and fu rth er suggests
that w hat h appen s to the snake is seen in term s o f the
separation o f w raith from b o d y .*1
(19 8 5 η ) , 12 0 . S e c also his e a rlie r article ( 1 9 6 1 ) w ith fu rth e r discussion o f
the co n n ectio n o f id eas in the earlie r parts o f the fragm ent and a n u m ber o f
m o re a m b itio u s su p p le m e n ts w h ich arc not p rin ted in the O x fo rd text.
11 \ 1 o r e can not be said o f this; but the theory is w orth co m p arin g w ith the
suR R cstions o f N a g y ( 19 7 9 : 1 7 4 - 2 1 0 ; c f. 1990η: 8 5 - 1 2 1 ) and C ran e (19 S S : ch.
I und patri«») ohout o th er trad itio n s in curly e p ic co n cern in g the revival o f
h eroes in the Isle s o f the Blest.
 Epilogue: Flesh and S p irit after Homer 293
H ere, then, an account o f death and reincarnation seem s to
be held together b y the notion that hum an id entity can he held
and transm itted in the form o f a d isem bodied soul. On sim ilar
lines it has som etim es been su ggested that an exp licit d ich o t­
omy between b ody and soul w as first prom pted by accounts o f
trance and ecstasy like those that have been studied am ong
sham ans in m odern A sia .21 M ystical jo u rn e y s and katabaseis
were m ade by O rpheus and P yth ago ras as w ell as by other
sages m ore loosely connected w ith them — A risteas, A b aris, and
the T h racian S a lm o x is22— and since sh am an s’ jo u rn e y s can be
described in term s o f the soul stan d in g outside the body, it is
an easy inference that o u r G reek s m ight have exp lain ed their
travels in the sam e w ay. T h e notion o f a m an 'stan d in g outside
h im se lf seem s to in vo lve at least an im p licit distinction
between the b ody and the true o r sp iritu al s e lf that m akes the
jo u rn ey. H ow ever, it is w orth m entioning that in the m odern
Asian traditions the sh am an ’s jo u rn e y can be narrated and
explained w ithout n ecessarily invoking such a distin ction :
when the sham an recounts his jo u rn e y in m ythical form his
people sim ply turn a blind eye on the fact that h is visib le b ody
has been lying on the floor all the tim e, 4 and in fact the early
15 D od d s ( 1 9 5 1 ) . 1 3 5 - 7 8 ; B u rk e rt ( 19 7 2 ) . 1 2 0 - 6 5 ; B o lto n ( 19 6 2 ), 1 4 2 - 7 5 ,
on A riste a s; alsn, W est ( 19 8 3 : 3 - 7 , 3 9 -6 7 ) co n n ects the sto rie s o f O rp h e u s, and
other early poets w ith the sh am an ism theory. O n the gen eral q u estio n o f N e ar
Eastern sages and sh am an s on the frin g e s o f the A e g e an w o rld o f the D ark
A ge. see B urkert (19 9 2 ), 4 1 —87.
2> O n A risteas see H d i. 4. 1 3 - 1 4 ; on A b a ris, H d t. 4 . 3 6 ; and on S a lm o x is ,
H dt. 4. 9 4 -6 .
24 S e c E liad e (19 6 4 ): the jo u r n e y s o f E lia d e 's A sia n sh am an s seem to be
regarded w ithin th eir o w n cu ltu re as utteran ces o f a sp ecial kind w h e re the
d istinction herw een the v isib le w o rld o f the o n lo okers and the in n er e x p e ri­
ence o f the sham an can be e xp lain e d (if at all) in v a rio u s w ays w ith ou t
in voking a d istin ctio n betw een b o d y and so u l. H e m ay b e re-en actin g celestial
jo u rn e y s w h ich w ere co m m o n to all in the m yth o lo g ical past (see esp. 14 3 - 4 ,
1 7 1 ) ; or the m odern sh am an m ay be reg ard ed as n decadent w ho m akes his
jo u rn e y only sy m b o lic a lly , w h ile h is fo re b e ars cou ld ascen d to heaven or
descend to the U n d e rw o rld literally (see esp. 13 0 , 2 50 ). T h e T o f the sham an
rem ains un d ifferen tiated (pastini, but fo r a p a rticu la rly c le ar e xam p le sec the
account b y an A ltaic sh am an , 19 0 —7), and no need arises to face the p ro b lem o f
reconcilin g his acco u n t w ith w hat w as seen o f his visib le b o d y, sin ce it is
im p licit throu ghout h is acco u n t o f h is journey' that he is actin g and speaking
on the m yth n p ocic le ve l; ‘ O n ly [llic sh am an s] tran sfo rm a th eological con cept
into a con crete m ystical e xp e rie n ce . . . W hat for the rest o f the co m m u n ity
294 Epilogue: Flesh and Spirit after Homer
G reek evidence teaches a somewhat sim ilar lesson. F o r ex­
am ple, in the earliest surviving account o f the journey of
Aristcas (H dt. 4. 13 - 1 4 ) there is nothing to suggest that a
soul separated itself from the bodily man. Aristeas falls down
dead in a fuller’s shop in Proconnesus, and when his relatives
go to the shop to fetch the corpse it has disappeared. In the
mean time he em barks on his m ystical journ ey, appearing along
the way in C yzicus, and eventually makes his way to the
m ythical lands in the East. T h e disappearance o f the corpse
im plies that the traveller is the undivided bodily m an.35 In this
way, there can be no certainty that such talcs prom pted the
invention o f a new concept o f soul to explain how the journey
takes place.
G iven all these doubts, it turns out that in surviving Greek
the earliest unm istakable statem ents that the human body
contains a soul are made by Pindar, in passages which almost
certainly betray the influence o f O rphic teaching or some
kindred body o f doctrine. T h e most striking testimony is the
fragm ent in which he distinguishes the mortal body, σώμα,
from the im m ortal wraith, aluieos eïêcuXov, which dwells in it
(fr. 1 3 1 b M ). Furth er passages set forth the idea that life,
death, and afterlife arc a journ ey o f the soul through stages of
corruption and purification (O/. 2. 56-80; frs. 129, 130 , 13 3 ,
1 37). 1 Iow cvcr, before we exam ine these texts we will be able to
show that the dualism exhibited there is anticipated in less
obvious w ays by a sem antic developm ent undergone by the
w ord φνχη in the post-H om cric period, a developm ent that is
clearly visible in earlier and less exalted poetry than P in d ar’ s.
T h ro u g h o u t the liternture o f this period ψνχη stands not only
for life threatened by death, as in Hom er, but also for the
centre o f thought, consciousness, and identity.*0 In the foiiovv-
rem nins n cosm ological id eogram , for the sham ans . . - becom es a m ystical
itin e ra ry ’ (265).
15 H in d sigh t can m ake later accounts m isleading. F or exam ple, S u d a , s.v.
ίΐρ ισ τ/as (= fr. 3 B ernn be) d escribes the sag e 's experience as a jo u rn e y by his
φοχη. j

“ In literary' term s selfhood and id en tity raise special problem s in lyric and
ele gy, w h ere the first personal pronoun m ay correspond to the persona o f the
in spired poet, thnt o f the o rd in ary m an. or (in the cuse o f choral lyric) those o f
the m em b ers o f the ch o ru s th em selves. T h e question is especially urgent for
P in d ar: see B re m e r (19 9 0 ) and, in particular, L efk o w itx (19 9 t). L efk o w itx
 Epilogue: Flesh ami Spirit after Homer 295
ing pages we will observe the new shape o f ψυχρ) by surveying
the attestations o f our word in lyric and elegiac verse up to and
including Pindar’s time, a corpus that can conveniently be
referred to as the poetry o f the A rchaic period.27 I f the evidence
is convincing, it w ill suggest that the range o f m eaning o f ψυχή
in this period corresponds in m iniature to the ideas o f the soul
that were w rit large in esoteric religious b elief and philosoph­
ical doctrine at the sam e stage o f G reek history.28

( i —7 1 ) distinguishes three stances— the chorus as ' I ', the in spired poet as *1',
and Pindar the m an as ' I ' — and argues that in the E p in ician s the chorus is
never the "I'. In later chapters (pp. 1 1 1 - 4 6 ) site goes som e w ay to break dow n
the distinction betw een the personal id en tity o f the poet and his m asks as
inspired teacher or seer (sec csp. 1 1 4 ) . S e e also B urnett (19 8 3 ), 1 —7 and passim,
and Jarch o (19 9 0 ); and on the correspon d in g problem s o f A rch ilo c h u s' stance
as an iam bic poet sec West (19 7 4 ), i - 3 9 , csp. 2 5 —8. T h e h isto ry o f in terpreta­
tions of the lyric ' 1' is sketched by S lin g s (19 9 06); cf. also T sa g a ra k is (19 7 7 ).
53 Pindar provid es a convenient if arb itrary cut-ofT poin t; I have been
content to exclude all poets whose date o f birth or floruit is m ore than a few
years later than his. so that (for exam ple) 1 include B acch ylid cs but not Ion or
M clan ippidcs. On chronological grou n d s A esch ylu s m igh t also h ave been
included, but 1 have excluded dram atic p oetry, since the decisive change in
the sem antic range o f ψυχή can be traced fu lly through p oetry p ro duced in the
m ore antiquated genres, By ‘T h e o g n is' is m eant everyth in g that m akes up the
Th cogn idean sytlage: although there m ay be som e m aterial here from as late as
the early 5th cent., the style and language o f the w hole is hom ogeneou s, and
the political tone o f the parts attribu table to T h e o g n is h im se lf su ggests a date
ns high as the 630s (sec W est (19 7 4 ), 6 5 - 7 1) . 'S im o n id e s' likew ise co v e rs the
w hole corpus o f poem s ascribed to him in antiquity. A lth ou gh som e o f the
elegiac epitaphs from tile Persian W ar w ere p ro bab ly ascribed to h im long
after they were com posed (see Page in the preface to P E G ) , it is reasonable to
suppose that all or most are con tem porary and thus date from S im o n id e s'
tim e, so that the question o f authorship need not affect us here.
** T h e m ost influential p ost-w ar stu d y o f this p ro b lem has been R e g e n ­
bogen (19 4 8 , csp. 2 2 —8), developing his v ie w o f the H o m eric ψυχή as *sine qua
non aller körperlichen, geistigen und em otionalen R e g u n g en ' (defined, 20)
and em phasizing the H om eric roots o f the A rch aic usages. A s I have
disagreed with R egcn b ogen 's definition o f the H om eric ψυχή (see C h . 2 ,
pp. 4 6 -7), 1 w ill d iffer correspon din gly on the A rch aic m aterial; but m an y o f
his observations on individual fragm ents have proved v e ry usefu l in prep arin g
this chapter. Ingenknam p ( 1 9 7 5 ) d raw s m ostly on the p h ilo sop h ers but also
includes m aterial from the A rch aic poets, and proposes a sem an tic d e ve lo p ­
m ent o f ψυχή from 'lifc-ca rricr' (R e g cn b o g e n 's sine qua non) to P la to ’s concept
o f the unified 'in n er se lf.' C lau s ( 1 9 8 1 ) has a usefu l su rv e y o f the p o st-
H ornenc ψυχή, in cluding the 5th-ccn t. tragedians and prose w rite rs (6 9 - 9 1) ,
and show s that their ψυχή is a m ental agent still m ore c le arly than fo r the
 Epilogue: Flesh and Spirit after Ilom er

φυχ-ί) as life lost or threatened

W c saw that the 1 lo m eric φ υ χ η is fundam entally the cold hreath
w hose loss is a sign o f death. A m ong the A rchaic poets a few
instances su rv iv e in w hich this sim plest m eaning is active. In a
sixth -cen tu ry epitaph the d yin g m an’s breath is lost, φυχη óAtr’
t[e δα ί] (47H ), and in a lyric fragm ent Sim onides describes a
d yin g child as breathing it out, γλνκιCar . . . φυχάν άποπνίοντα
(fr· 553 P). E xten d in g the sym bolic im portance o f the lost
b reath, one o f S im o n id es' epitaphs speaks for the patriots who
rescued G reec e with their φυχαί, by dying:
Ε λ λ ά δ α πάσ αν
τ α ΐς u vrtL v ά ν χ α ΐς κ *ίμ < 0(ι ρ ν ο ά μ α οι. (I2 PEG)

A g ain , T h e o g n is w ill be a lifeless corpse after losing this thing:

brjpov yilp tvtpOev
γης o A tgq f i/nq-Vii' Kttoouui utoTr λίθος
ΰ φ θσ γγο ς. (sf> 7—9)

H ere when the poet looks beyond his own death he makes *1'
correspond to the dead m atter o f his corpse (cf. T h g n . 877—8,
also 10 70 a—b). I f wc com pare this with H om eric patterns the
question arises: when the poet com pares his corpse to lifeless
stone, is it im plicit that he thinks o f the departed φυχη as the
thing that had anim ated the living man and given him his
identity? In the same w ay when Sim onides calls the child’s lost
breath ‘sw eet’ is he assim ilating it to the sweet essence, y,Wü?
aiwv (C h . 4, pp. 1 1 3 - 1 4 ; and cf. C h. 5 η. 1 1 ), that courses in the
b ody o f a livin g person?
W hen w e asked the equivalent question o f H om er we were
able to answ er in the negative, and consequently to deny that
he gives m an a single spiritual core for life, death, and
afterlife. T h e A rchaic poets w ill demand a different answer,
an answ er best approached by first observing how they difTer

A rc h a ic poets; his analysis o f the A rch aic poets' usage ( 9 2 - 10 2 ) has a helpful
collection o f exam p le* hut reaches odd conclusions (sec above, C h . 2 , n. 37).
B rie fe r su rv e y s, assu m in g a sim ple sem antic change under O rp h ic or p h ilo ­
sop h ical in flu ence, in clu de BOhme (19 2 9 : 10 8 -9 ); Sim o n (19 7 8 : 4 7 -7 7 ),
m akin g an interestinn con trast betw een H om eric and Platon ic ψυχή in
p sych o an alytic term s; also Padcl (19 9 2 : 3 1 - 3 ) .
 Epilogue: Flesh mul Spirit after Ilom er 297

from H om er when they mnke ψυχή stand not for life lost hut for
life liable to be lost. W c saw in C hapter 3 that H o m er’s ψυχή
does not figure in this w ay w ith out an open or im plied threat o f
death, as w hen one w ho risks death casts his breath before him
at hazard: the w arrior in battle is tossing it around, ψυχήν
τπιρηβαλλόμΐνος (ix. 32 2 ), and pirates abroad arc profferin g it to
the sea, ψυχής nnpOéficvoi (iii. 74 = ix. 255). In the sam e w ay,
when T y rta e u s’ ideal w arrior rem ains in the battle-lin e he is
risking the loss o f his life’s breath, ψυχήν καί θυμόν τλήμονα
■napOfμΐνος (fr. 12. 1 8 W ). H ow ever, he and other ^ rc h a ic poets
push this im agery further w hen they id en tify ψυχή not only
with life threatened but with life held and preserved, even in
contexts where no risk is im plied. It is at this point in the
sem antic range o f ψυχή that the decisive d ifference from H om er
appears. A rchilochu s in a stray phrase talks o f m en in peril at
sea who hold onto their lives, ψυχάς ίχοντΐς κυμάτων cv άγκαλαις
(fr. 2 13 \V),29 and sim ilarly Solon d escribes a sea-goin g
merchant as one w ho has no ‘ th rift’ fo r his breath, φαδιυλήν
ψυχής οΰδΐμίαν θίμΐνος (fr. 1 3- 46 W ): when he risks death at sea
he takes no care to keep the life in his b o d y. L ik ew ise T h eo g n is
speaks o f thoughts, φροντϊδςς, w hich are pon derin g how to gain
a livelihood, μυρόμιναι ψ'υχ}ς tïvexa και βιότου (729—3 °) · I f ψυχή
here is breath it is also life— life that is d efended, held, and
actively enjoyed by livin g m en.
T h is sense o f ψυχή takes on special significance in m ilitary
ethics. 'Tyrtaeus bids men fight w ithout sparing their lives,
ψ υ χ ίω ν μη«·«τι φ(ΐδόμ(νοι (fr. ίο . 1 4 W ); and he goes further
when he describes how the b rave man holds his life cheap:
Ιθύς S’ <ί προμάχου? άσπιώ’ άνήρ ίχίτιυ,
ίχΟρήν μίν ψυχήν θίμτνος, θανάτου δί μτλαΐνας
κ ή ρ ιις (ΰμώ?) avyaiy ή τ λ ίο ιο φ ίλ η ς. (fr. I 1 . 4~5)
T o make an enem y o f the ψ υ χ ή is to w elcom e a glorious death,
and to protect it is to turn inw ard to self-p reservation: regard
29 T h e source for the fragm en t is the scholiast on A r. fr o g t 704. w ho glosses
A rch ilo ch u s' line ns o it i j rv πολλοΐς κίνδυνοι?. A risto p h an e s’ line is u p aro d y o f
this. A com parable im age ap p ears in n sim ilar context in one o f the few
su rvivin g lines o f A risto as' ep ic poem , again d escrib in g the perilou s life o f
sailors: όμ μ α τ’ Iv άοτροιαι, ^νχήν S’ fv ί πόντο»ι ϊχο νσ ιν (fr. 1 1 . 4 ß crn abc). T h e
m eaning m ust b e that they keep their eyes on the stars w h ile riskin g their lives
at sea.
298 Epilogue: I'lesh and Spirit after Homer
for one's ψυχή becomes equivalent to selfishness. 0 T h e Spartan
patriotic ideal glorifies self-sacrifice in a w ay that goes beyond
the ethics o f the Iliad·, and the fact that the image o f κήρις is
hyperbolic suggests that T yrtaeu s m ay be consciously exagger­
ating or perverting the Hom eric imagery. Sim ilarly, when he
exhorts men to battle he sets the brave w arrior’s expanding
θυμός against the cow ard’s love o f his ψυχή:

άλλα μ ιγ α ν TrottfuOf και άΛιπμοι1 ο · ψρνοι θυμόν,

U y 5 i φ ιλ ο ψ υ χ (!τ ' άνδράαι μ α ρνά ικ νοι. (fr. ΙΟ. 17—18)

Here θυμός and ψυχή stand for two contrasting parts or aspects
o f conscious life: θυμός is the will to violent action, but ψυχή is
life enjoyed and reflected upon.32 T h is sense o f ψυχή has no
parallel in llo m c r, even in the introspective images o f ψυχή
built up by A chilles in his speeches to the Em bassy. Observe,
however, that T y rta e u s’ sense o f ψυχή finds an Hom eric parallel
in an expression involving θυμός: Diom edes describes those
who shirk battle as θυμώι ήρα ψίραντις (χιν. 132), showing love
or favour to the stu ff in their breasts as they seek to keep
them selves alive.33 T y rta e u s’ evocation o f the w arrior’s sp ir­
itual anatom y suggests that he is thinking through a new and
non-H om cric structure o f selfhood, even when he echoes
H om er’s im ages deliberately.

JU F or this d istin ctive role o f ψυχή in T y rta e u s, see Sn ell (19 6 9 ), 1 1 - 1 3 .

31 T h is is not the place to argue out the relative chronology o f T y rta e u s ami
H om er. M . L . W est has recently asserted (19 9 s ) that H om er imitates
T y rta e u s, reversin g the received opinion o f m ost scholars; m y answ er here
is only that T y r ta e u s ’ use o f ψυχή chim es exactly with that o f other poets
con ventionally given a low er date than the H om eric epics. It rem ains possible
that the difference is betw een earlier and later genres and registers rather than
earlier and later poets.
33 S e e D ih le (19 8 2 ), 10 .
33 ήρα is 0 difficult w ord. In H om er it seem s to m ean som ething like ’ help’ ,
p ossib ly su ggestin g affection as well (see esp. I. 5 7 2 , 578, com paring iii. 164.
x v i. 375. x v iii. 56; and note the cognate adjective Ipir/por). T o appreciate
T y r ta e u s ’ rem iniscen ce o f H om er, it is w orth noting that B acchylides uses ήρα
in the sense ‘ fo r the sake o f , like H om eric χάριν (B acchyl. x 1 . 2 0 - 1 , cited by
R u sso at x v iii. 56); if T y rta e u s un derstands ήρα as exactly equivalent in
m eaning to χάριν, then in the passages quoted here his rem iniscence o f
D iu m cdcs’ w o rd s w ill he all the closer.
 Epilogue: Flesh and Spirit after Homer 299

ψυχή as the centre of emotion, passion, audacity

So far we have seen ψυχή creeping away from its H om eric
starting-point in the last dying gasp o f breath, and m oving
towards the point where ‘life’ looks like a possible translation.
T h e life thut is liable to be lost shades into the life that is
preserved, and thus into the life that is enjoyed, so that vitality
and consciousness are drawn into our w o rd ’ s province. S im o n ­
ides urges one to give pleasure to the ψυχή throughout his life:
β ιό τ ο υ noT t τ < ρ μ α *
ψ ν χ ή ι τ ώ ν α γ α θ ώ ν τλήΟ ι χ α ρ ιζ ό μ τ ν ο ς . ( 2 0 . I I — 12 W )

T h ere is a sim ilar turn o f phrase in an Eritrean m arin er’s

epitaph o f the same period:
Φ ίλ ιυ ν KtCrai' r o iö r κ α τ ά y a i* t κ ά λ υ ψ ί v ,
ν α υ τ ίλ ο ν , 5 ς φ υ χ ή ι ττα ύ ρ α δ ί δ ω κ * α γ α θ ά . (7 6 Η )

If the sailor's poverty meant that he gave few good things to his
ψυχή, it must have been the focus o f pleasure and hap pin ess.3'1
With a further short step in this direction it m akes sense that
the ψιυχή is the seat o f sexual passion. A nacreon says that his
beloved boy controls it like a charioteer, d rivin g him with reins:
τ ή ς ·μ ή ς
ψ υ χ ή ς ή ν ιο χ ς ύ ς ις . . . (fr. 36 0 . 3 - 4 Ρ)

Likew ise Archilochus in his longing is bereft o f ψυχή, perhaps

literally breathless:
δ ύ σ τ η ν ο ς ΐ γ κ ς ι μ α ι rro B cji,
ά ιΐιυ χ ο ς . ( f r . 1 9 3 . 1 —2 W )

C onversely, T h eogn is secs g rief as a gn aw in g o f the ψυχή:

ί μ ο ί μ ύ γ α ττίνΟος o pu ipcv
κ α ί δ ά κ ν ο μ α ι φ υ γ ή ν , κ α ί ύ ιχ α θ υ μ ό ν ί χ ω . (9 0 9 - Ι ο )

His ψ υ χ ή suffers in the w ay that the m ental stu ff o f H om eric

man suffers when an experience bites into it: as when H ector is
insulted, 5d«e 8è φρίνας Έ κτορι μύθος (ν. 4 9 3 ) JS In this light, it
** On the φ υχή o f this epitaph see csp . D ih le (19 8 2 ) , 1 2 ; Clous ( 1 9 8 1 ) , 9 6 -
IO O .

” C om pare also A le . fr. 117 ( b ) 3 4 - 5 l^ -P , w h ich seem s to m ention a φ υ χ ή in

connection w ith tears, but is too fragm en tary to be in terp reted .
300 Epilogue: Flesh and Spirit after Homer
is not su rp risin g thnt the passion o f the patriotic w arrior can
itse lf be localized in the ψυχή: Sim o n id es says (if the line is
gen uin e) that the heroes o f the Persian W ars died in obedience
to its d arin g w ill, (ντόλ/ιωι ψυχής λήματι τταΟόμπΌΐ ( 15 P E G ).
N o w a p ro b lem seem s to loom if w e turn from these to our
earlier exam p les w h ere T y rta e u s bade the brave m an hate his
ψυχή. In one sense to die bravely is to follow the ψυχή as source
o f passio n , w h ile in another sense it is to hate it as a sym bol of
the c o w a rd ly d esire to preserve life. O f course the contradiction
o n ly ap p ears w hen the lexicograp her tries to fram e a definition:
the b asis o f both im ages is that the ψυχή is the centre o f m an’s
life , w ith association s w hich are by turns existential and
em otional.

ψυχή as the essence o f man

S o m uch fo r the prospect o f death, and for passion and
em otion. T h e A rch aic ψυχή is also the core o f m oral life and
the focus o f reflection and self-aw areness. T h eo g n is declares
that there is nothin g slavish in his character, oi5S ’ ti> Ιμήι ψυχήι
δ ο υ λ ιο υ ο ύ δ ΐ ν tin (530 ; cf. H eraclitus, B 10 7 D—Iv); Bacchylides
d e scrib e s the d au gh ters of Proctus going to the tem ple with
g irlish nature or character, τταρθπΊαt . . . ψυχάι ( i t . 4 7-8 );
H ip p o n ax threatens that if h is dem ands are not met he will
‘ give the gro an -filled ψ'νχή to evil,* to let it be destroyed or
m ad e m iserab le:
κ α κ ο ΐσ ι δάισοι ττμ· ττολυοτονοι1 ψυχι'μ·,
ή ν μ ή ά π ο ττ ίμ ψ η ις «is τ ά χ ισ τ α μ ο ι κρ ιΟ ίω ν
μ ίδ ιμ ν ο ν . . . (fr. 39· «“ 3 W)
A lth o u g h there is no context and the sense is d i f f i c u l t , ψυχή
h ere seem s to be the subjective core o f life. B y a further
exten sion in the sam e direction, the ψ>υχή becom es tantam ount

O n o u r in te rp retatio n here. cf. R e ge n b o ge n (1948), 24· T h is fragm ent

seem s v e r y o b sc u re : in p articu lar, it is not clear w h ether the ψυχή in question
is that o f th e sp eak er or the one ad d ressed . I f the lutter is the case, Ilip p o n a x
w o u ld he th re ate n in g to lay a curse on the oth er person if he refuses his
re q u e st; and if the cu rse w ere intended to operate a fte r death, the ψυχή w ould
he h is a fte rlife s u r v iv o r as m uch os the core o f his id en tity d u rin g life (for such
a cu rse co m p are e.g. S a p p h o , fr. 55 L - P ) .
 Epilogue: Flesh and S p irit after Horner 301
to the person as a w hole. S ap p h o addresses som eone (herself?)
as φοχά αγαπάτα (fr. 62. 8 I^-P ),37 and S im o n id es addresses his
own ψυχή in introspection:

οι5δύναμαι, ι//ιι,\·[τ)], ττίψυ\αγμΐνος ίΐιαι ónrjSós,

χ ρ υ σ ώ π ιν Sc Δ ίκ η ν ά ζ ο μ α ι ά χ ν ύ μ ιν ο ς . (fr. 2 1 . 1 —2 W)

He cannot be the guardian o f his ψυχή, he is unable to keep to

the ethical ideal: ψυχή here is the seat o f his m oral identity.
Ψ’νχή< then, is the essence o f m an: but it is also the w raith in
the U n d erw orld , for the A rch aic poets no less"' than for
H o m er.3,1 H ere we touch on one o f the central questions o f
our entire study. H ow clo sely do the A rchaic poets id entify
the ψυχή o f the liv in g w ith the ψυχή w hich dw ells in H ades?
D o they see life, death, and afterlife as the jo u rn e y o f a single
entity, a spirit in the livin g m an w hich is separated ofT at
death as his im m ortal soul? T h e question is prom pted in a
small w ay when Sim o n id es com plains against D isease p e r ­
sonified:

αι'αΓ, N o ü o f ß a p t ia , r i δ ή ψ υ χ α ισ ι μ ι γ α ί ρ ι ι ς
ανΟρώπιιιν ( ρ α τ ή ι τταρ vcóttjti μ ί ν α ν ; (7 0 P E G )

I f D isease grudges ‘ to let p eo p le's ψυχιj rem ain in them alo n g ­

side their lovely yo u th ’ , how closely does it follow that he w an ts
to send this sam e ψυχή to H ades?
T h is question again sm acks o f the lexico grap h er, and it
would not be w orth pursuin g as speculation ; b u t w c arc
forced to address it b y the poet’ s own w ords in the fifth O de
o f Bacchylides, w here the tw o aspects o f ψυχή are brought
together exp licitly. D u rin g a narration o f the katabasis o f
H eracles, couched in H om eric term s w ith the dead as ψυχαΐ
(5· 64, 77, 83, 1 7 1 ) and in clu d in g im ages borrow ed from the I

I his is the m ost lik e ly in terp retatio n o f w hat is a rath er slig h t fragm en t,
h o r co m p ariso n , note th e p assag e in w h ich she uses d ya e d ra in (p resu m ab ly)
the sam e w a y w ith a p ro p e r nam e (fr. 1 3 2 L - P ) .
A p art from Liacchyl. 5. 5 6 - 1 7 5 , the m ost exten sive e xam p le it T h ß n .
7 0 1 —12 , b riefly treating o f the k atah a tii o f S is y p h u s . F o r the lan gu age o f
H ades in the A rc h a ic poets see also S a p p h o , fr. 55 U -P ; T h g n . 2 4 3 - 4 , 8 0 2 ,
O06. q t 7 , 1 0 1 4 , 1 1 2 4 ; M im n . fr. 2. 14 \V; S c m o n . fr. 1 . 1 3 - 1 4 \V ; S o lo n , fr!
24. 8 W ; T y r t . fr. 12 . 38 W .
3°2 Epilogue: Flesh and Spirit ajter Homer
Hom eric N ekuia,19 the wraith o f M eleager urges the hero not
to shoot his arrows at the shades o f the dead:
μ η raC oiov ττροία
Tρ α χ ύ ν ί κ χ α ρ ώ ν οΐστόν
φ ν χ α ιο ιν <Vi fli/ir ν'Ουί"
οΰ τ ο ι Scot. ( 5 . 8 1 —4)

A s M eleager’s wraith proceeds to tell the story o f his own life

and death in the world o f m ortals, at one point he describes
how men were struck by m issiles in battle and killed:
τυφ λά S ’ Ι κ χ α ρ ώ ν β ίλ η
ψ υ χ α ίς Ι π ι δ υ ο μ ίν ίω ν φ οι-
τά ι θάνατόν τ ( φ ΐρ α . . . ( 1 3 2 - 4 )

T h e m issiles ilcw at their lives, at their φ υ χ α ί. T h e words

closely echo those in which he had told Heracles not to shoot
at the wraiths, also φ υ χ α ί: is Bacchylidcs deliberately, even
ironically, pointing up an identity between the spiritual core of
the living men and the wraiths of the dead that he has set before
the audience’s eyes? T h e plot thickens when he goes on to
describe how he found h im self to be bewitched, so that he grew
feeble as he drew near to death:
μίνυΟ χν St μ ο ι φ υχά γ λ υ κ ιΐ α ·
γ ν ώ ν S ’ ό λ ιγ ο ο θ α 'ία ιν ,
d ia l· ττύματον S i πνίνυν δάκρυσα τλ α [}νυυν,
Δ γλα ά ν ηβ αν ιτρολ(ίΐϊαιν. ( 1 5 1 —4 )

his vital essence grew less or wasted away, he

μ ίν υ θ ιν . . . φ υ χ ά :
breathed his last, and died. Noting the words ayAacy ή β α ν
■ προλΐίττιον, ’ leaving gleam ing youth behind’ , we recall the
departure o f Patroclus' or H ector’s φυχ-ή to Hades:
όν ττότμον γ ο ό ω ο α , λιττοϋσ’ ά νδρο τή τα κ a i ν β η ν .
(XVI. 8 5 7 = * χ ι »· 3<>3)
T h e correspondence suggests that Bacchylidcs is directly, even
consciously, recalling H om er's w ords:4" but there is an all-
, '1 O n the H om eric echoes in Bacchvl. 5 see J . Stern (19 6 7 ); also Lcfkow itz
(19 6 9 : csp. 7 8 -8 3 ), touching on the φνχή problem .
■*" In his note at 5. 1 5 1 - 4 M aehler notes that this passage echoes H ector's
death, and com pares M eleager oAiyoofrwai·*, with H ector <5A»yoSpatiutv
( X X I I . 337).
 Epilogue: Flesh and Spirit after Homer 3°3

im portant difference o f perspective. T h e speaker w ho describes

h im self as α γ λ α ά v ή β α ν ■ n paX tlttw v corresponds to H o m e rs
departing Φνχν* 2nd that speaker is h im self sha e in
Hades:"" so that a new and strikin g thread o f ideas runs
through M eleager’s speech. H e im plies that the φνχη which
wasted aw ay as he grew weaker, the T w hich left vitality
behind, and' the w raith now telling the story, arc all one and
the same. I f so, Bacchylides is v e ry close to associating the
spiritual core o f the living with the su rv iv o r in H ades in a single
definition o f φ υ χ ή , a definition w hich seems to dem and that we
now use ’so u l’ to translate the w ord.

The coalescence of φυχη with the θυμός fam ily in the language of
mental life
W hen the A rchaic poets render mental life they speak o f θυμός
and its fam ily in m uch the sam e w ay as H om er, w ith φρίυα and
vóos particularly prom inent as the locus o f thought and
em otion.42 T h e crucial difference is that φυχη now acts as a
fully-fledged m em ber o f the fam ily, and it is associated with
the kind of im agery that H om er uses o f the m ental apparatus.
T h ere arc m any exam ples o f this am ong the passages already
cited. For exam ple T y rta e u s’ life-p reservin g cow ard gives
«» T h e am bigu ity is noted b y R egen bo gen (19 4 8 ). *<>· T h e feeb len ess o f the
shades w as on elem ent o f ep ic d eath -lore not e asily fo rgotten : c f. c.g . S a p p h o ’ s
curse on an enem y: αλλ' όφάυης sit on 5ομωι | φοιταστ)ίς 7rc5 αμα trpwv vtKVWV
^οτΓΤΰταμό'α ( 55- 3“4 L - P ) . S e e C h . 6 n. 9 ° .
' J F o r full su rve ys o f these nouns in the ly ric poets, see D a rc u s (19 7 9 (0 for
i p D areus (19 S 0 ) fo r voov. D arcu s S u lliv a n ( 1 9 8 1 ) fo r θυμός, and C la u s
(19 8 1), 4 8 - 9 1. It has som etim es been su ggested that in the ly ric poets θυμός
and its fam ily act as m ental agents (rather than fu nctions) m ore fo rc e fu lly than
they do for H om er: see esp. Ja rc h o (19 6 S ). arg u in g that in the A rc h a ic poets
φ νχή and θ υ μ ό ς alike tend to act as in dependent agen ts; also D arcu s ( 1979°) .
17 2 —3; D arcus S u llivan ( 19 8 1) , 1 5 2 —3. νάας is a difficu lt case; D a rc u s argues
( : 9S0: 4 3-4 ) that i-óor 15 m ore clearly un der the con trol o f the p erson as su ch in
the A rchaic poets than in H o m er; this seem s difficu lt to dem on strate, and
D arcus herself presents plenty o f A rch aic e xam p les o f the νόος as m ental agent
(42—3). In later verse the sem an tic ran ges o f the in d iv id u al m em b ers o f the
depot-fam ily nouns d iffer sign ifican tly fro m the H o m e ric pattern ; this is
clearest w hen w e com pare H o m er w ith 5th -ccn t. au th o rs, fo r w h om θυμός
(for exam ple) tends to stand for violen t passion in p articu lar, and is associated
with thought as such less closely than are ro w , φρίν cr, and καρδια. S e c esp.
C lau s (19 8 1) , 4 8 -5 6 .
3°4 Epilogue: Flesh and Spirit after Homer
fav o u rs to his ψυχή w here H o m er’s gave favours to his θυμός
(above, p. 298); Sim o n id es addresses his ψυχή w here n H om eric
ch aracter w o u ld address his m ental apparatus (C h. 4, pp. 67­
8); and even H eraclitu s describes drink as w etting the ψυχή,
ju st as H om er describ es it as w etting the ψμίνίς (C h . 4, pp.
2). O ne or two passages suggest that the converse process is
also u n d er w ay , w ith the attributes o f the H om eric ψυχή being
ap p lied to the θυμός group. T h e re is a strikin g exam ple from
Ib y c u s, a stray line in w hich he addresses his θυμός:

e if t dn'Xf Ov/xf τα ι^ ντττίρ η ς *ός ο κ α πηρ·{*\·ρ(ς . . . ( fr . 3 1 7 b P ) 43

A lth o u g h the context is lost, it seem s that this is the start o f an

in tro sp ective address w here he com pared the motion o f his
m ental ap p aratu s to that o f a spreading-w inged bird. Sim ilarly
w h en T h e o g n is m entions thoughts, ψροιτίScj, he describes
them as flyin g on w in g s:-*4

φροιτίδις di'0/icu77aji‘ *λαχor, τττίρό ttolklX' tyovoai,

μνρόμη·αι ψυχής ctvnra και βιάτου. (729~3°)

T h is recalls the b ird like flyin g ψυχαί o f Patroclus and Hector

(xv i. 856 = X X I I . 362) and the batlike w raiths o f the Second
N ek u ia. S in ce the im agery o f ψυχή is spilling over into the θυμός
fam ily, as w ell as the reverse, it seems that it has been drawn in
as one o f m an y m ergin g parts or m anifestations o f the single
core o f hum an identity'.
T h e coalescence is w ell illustrated by three passages in which
A rch ilo ch u s exp resses the sam e sense o f un fulfilled sexual
d esire. F irs t com es the passage already cited in w hich he
d escrib es h im self as breathless or ‘soul-less’ w ith desire,
δύσ-ημ-ας ίγκαμαι πόθωι | άιψύχος (fr. 19 3 W ). άψυχος recalls
the H o m eric άθυμος for ‘breathless’ ; but it also recalls A rc h i­
lo ch u s’ turn o f phrase w’hen he says that lust has stolen the
fpivts from his breast,
** R e n d in g Ουμί for A th e n ae u s' ο ν μ ι, fo llo w in g P age after \'alclicn acr. F o r
■ πορψυρϊς as a typ e o f b ird , see A r. B ird s 30 4 . w ith the ΧαΟητορφυρΆις o f Ib yc.
fr. 3 1 7 a P .
** W est ( 10 9 3 ) translates 'M a n w as assign ed to C a re s, w hose w in gs are
m an y -c o lo u re d . . . ’ M o re p re cise ly , the con stru ction seem s to be 'g e n itiv e o f
the o b je c t aim ed a fte r ': the φ ρ ο ν τ & ις arc im agined as batten in g onto m en of
th e ir ow n will. O n the p ro b lem see also van G ro n in g e n ad loc.
 Epilogue: Flesh and Spirit after Homer 3 °5

■πηλλήν κατ' άχΧύν όμμάτιαν «χ<ι/ίν,

άίταΛάϊ ψρίνας . . .
κ λ ί ψ α ς ( κ OT Tj O éu iv ( f r . I f J I . 2 —3 )

as w ell as a third fragm ent in w hich it is the speaker him self

who is overcom e:
(ΙΛΛά μ 6 ΧυσιμΐΧης
utraCpt δόμναται πόθος. (fr. 196)
ψυχή, 4>ptvts, and 'I ' am ount to the sam e em otional agent.
Sim ilarly when T h e o g n is associates doubt in the one with the
biting o f anguish in the other, δάκνομαι ψυχήν και δίχα θυμόν ίχιυ
(g io ), ψυχή is an integrated part o f the thinking apparatus.
T h e evidence w e have gathered teaches one decisive lesson.
W here H om er's language and lore stopped far short o f assim ­
ilating ψυχή as the breath lost at death into the system o f m ental
life represented b y θυμός and the kindred nouns, the A rch aic
poets allow all to be subsum ed into a single system o f p sy ch o ­
logical identity. T h e ‘ Γ w ho thinks and feels in the m ortal
world is potentially identical w ith the T w hich lives on in the
death-w orld, and both in life and in death it is represented not
m erely by the sim ple lyu> or auro; but by the discrete spiritual
entity now identified as ψυχή. T h e upshot o f this is that a
dictionary definition o f the Archnic ψυχή w ould correspond
closely to a m odern definition o f a so u l: it is the em otional
agent, the centre o f w ill and introspection, and the su rv iv o r in
the world o f the dead. T h is im p lies that the H om eric con cep ­
tion o f man is sundered from that o f subsequent generations o f
G reek poets no less d ecisively than from that o f Plato or,
indeed, o f those who speak and think in our ow n w orld.

The semantic range of ψυχή i/ι Pindar

A s we noted earlier, it is in a few m ysterious passages o f P in d ar
that we first see this stru ctu re o f m an and soul exp licitly
realized on the level o f religious doctrine. B efore turning to
these it should be noted that in less m arked contexts Pindar
takes ψινχή as the core o f m an in ju st the sam e w ay as his lyric
predecessors.·*5 It is the scat o f em otional life and passion, so
15 S ee R egen b o gen (19 4 8 ), 2 5 . C la u s ( 1 9 8 1 : 6 9 - 9 1) su rv e y s the ran ge o f
ψυχή in P in d ar alo n g w ith the 5th -ccn t. d ram atists and pro se w rite rs, d raw in g
on m uch the sam e e vid en ce as is presen ted here.
3 o6 Epilogue: Flesh and Spirit after Homer
that one rejoices through it, av nepi ψυχάν . . . γάθηο<ν (Pyth.
4. 122); and conversely one who is unmoved by erotic passion
in θυμός and καρ&ία (fr. 12 3 . 1- 6 M ) carries or tosses about his
ψυχή in feebleness,
y w a ix t iw t θ ρ ά σ η
φ ιιχαι· é o p ( Γται πάσαν όόόν OcpaTTtvaiv. (fr. 1 23. 8-g Μ)“

Ju st as ψυχή here jo in s the θυμός fam ily as the centre of

em otion, so it can be the locus o f moral life: the ju st men of
Aetna have spirits stronger or loftier than mere possessiveness,
κτΐάνων ψυχάς ςχοιπίς κρόσσονας \ άνδρςς (Nem. g. 32—3),
doughty men are xtpol καί ψυχάι δυνατοί (Nent. g. 38), and it
is by or in his ψυχή that A pollo refuses to tolerate the
destruction o f his child:

ούκί t «
τλάοομαι φινχάι γίνος άμόν όλίσσαι. (P yth . 3 . 4 0 - 1 )

Sim ilarly H iero remained steadfast in war, iv πολίμοιαι μάχαις \

τλάμονι ψυχάι παρίμ(ΐν( (Pyth. i. 47—8), and the young Heracles*
childish stature is belied by his unconquerable spirit, so that he
is μορψαν βραχύς \ ψυχάν 8' άκαμπτος (Jsthm. 4. 7 1 —7 1b ). In the
inspired poet the same entity is the object o f introspection. We
have already seen Sim onides addressing his ψη/χή (fr. 21 \V,
above, p. 3 0 1); Pindar does so in a more profound context
when he stops the flow o f his song and urges moderation with
due awareness o f hum an m ortality,
γνάντα τ ο πάρ r r o è ü f , o f a y ιιμ ίν αΐαας.
μή, φίλα ψνχά, βίον αθάνατον
οπίύδί. (Pyth. 3 · ί> 0 -2)

W hen he turns inward his introspection engenders a kind of

σωφροσύνη by checking his aspiration to themes too extravagant
for the m ortal poet.·*7 T h e crux is that the core o f the living is
also what w ill be lost at death and sent to Hades (c.g. Ol. 8. 39;
Pyth. 3. 1 0 1 ; Nein. 1. 47; Jsthm. 1. 68); so that when Pindar

R ead in g ψνχάν ralh er than φνχράν, w ith Schneider. On the cru x sec
D arcu s (19 7 9 0 ), 37 n. 2 3, w ith refs.
47 O n the T o f this passage and the address to the φνχή see L e fk o w iti
(19 9 1). 32-3-
 Epilogue: Flesh and Spirit after Homer 307
describes C lytcm nacstra's m urders he makes the ψ υχή of
Agam em non accom pany Cassandra herself:
Κ αασάν& ραν ττυληΰι χ α λ κ ια ι ούν } 1γ α μ * μ vovi« I
ψ υ χ ά ι itó p tu ' Α χ ί p o rro s α κ τ ά ν n a p ' ΐύ σ κ ιο ν
ντ)λής γ υ ν ά · ( P y t h , 1 1 . 2 0 —2)

T h e pairing o f the proper name with the periphrasis im plies

that one's ψ υ χ ή is tantam ount to oneself. T h is is neatly
confirmed by two passages where Pindar uses the phrase
ψ ιν χά ν κ ο μ ί ξ α ι , to convey or dispatch a ψ υ χ ή . In the first passage
{Pyth. 4. 159) the phrase refers to "laying the gh ost’ o f P h rixu s,
sending his hitherto restless ghost to repose in the tom b;48 in
the second ( N e m . 8. 44), Pindar says that he cannot ’ b rin g back
the ψ υ χ ή ' o f a dead person, in other w ords he cannot b rin g him
back to life. Since what leaves at death and goes to H ades is also
what underlies consciousness, em otion, and m oral life in the
mortal world, it follows that if this thing cam e back after death
it would restore the living man.
T h is survey o f the Pindaric ψ υ χ ή prepares the w ay for the
doctrines o f dualism and personal im m ortality that loom large
in the second Olympian and two further fragm ents that arc
often held to have come from dirges (thrënoi). T h e re is no w ay
o f knowing w hether these texts in com bination bear w itn ess to
a single body o f ideas, nor is there any guarantee that they
represent beliefs held by the poet him self. It is likely that the
second Olympian refers to m ysticism favoured b y P in d ar’ s
Sicilian patron, w hile the thrënos fragm ents p ro b ab ly refer to
E'cusinian lore; but we can only guess at the relationship
between Sicilian cults and the lore o f the A then ian m ysteries.49
[.'us IB tentative. A t P y th . 4. 15 g . Pelias tells Ja so n that P h rix u s o rd ers
them to RO to C olch is anti «άν ψυχάν κομίξαι together w ith the G o ld e n F leece.
T h e scholinst took the w o rd s to m ean Jaso n w as to call up h is shade fro m
I -Je ·.; Farncll (ad loc.) thinks it m eans that his b o d y is to be b ro u g h t b ack,
assum ing that his φυχή w ould return to rem ain n e ar it. ju s t as the sh ad e o f a
hero m ight rem ain at his sh rin e, l i e is fo llow ed b y B o lto n (19 6 2 : 15 9 -6 0 ) and
raswcll ad loc. H o w ever, B rasw ell accepts that the sam e w o rd s at N em . 8. 44
cannot be taken in the sam e sense, sin ce in them ‘a recall to life is im p lied os
w ell Sin ce I m dar does not m ention the I'h r.x u s sto ry again in P y th . 4 the
w ords rem ain m ysterio u s. O n the background to the legend sec D S
R obertson (19 4 0 ).
n i l ? " ’ i’ ' problcm r)o f ' he P ° « i b l e com b in ation o f F le u sin ian , O rp h ic , and
Bacchic elem ents in P in d ar, see esp. G r a f (.9 7 4 ) , 7 9 -<,4 . ^ ’
3 o8 Epilogue: Flesh and S p irit after Ilom er
1 h at said , w e can use the texts together as w itn esses to the kind
o f n ew or eso teric lore that w as curren t in his gen eration, and as
e xam p le s o f the u ltim ate d evelo pm en t or w o rk in g -o u t o f the
p e rv a siv e A rc h a ic con cept that the φνχή is a soul or inner self.
In the secon d Olympian P in d ar says that in this life the
v irtu o u s u se o f w ealth b rin g s blessed n ess and defeats care, and
th en tu rn s to w h at lies ahead for the w ealthy m an:
it B t viv [sc. τόι> ιτΑοΰτοί'] ΐχυ υ ν τ ις o iS cv τ ο μ ίλ λ ο ν ,
ο τ ι Ο ανόντιαν μ ί ν ΐ ι ·θ ά δ ’ α ν τ ί κ ’ ά ττπ An/trot φ ρ<ν(ς
TTon-ds' ί τ α σ α ν — τά S ’ rt’ τ ά ιδ ί J t è s ά ρ χ ά ι
α λ ιτ ρ ά κ α τ ά y d ? δ ι κ ά ζ η τ ι ς ΐχΟ ράι
λ ό γ ο ν φ ρ ά σ α ις ά ν ά γ κ α ι. ( O l . Ζ. 5 6 - 6 0 )

T h e gen eral sen se is that w hen m en die their feeble φ ρ ί ν ι ς pay

re trib u tio n , and they are p un ish ed in the U n d erw o rld for the
c rim e s com m itted in the earth ly realm o f Z e u s; but beyond that
the exact m ean in g is o b scu re, perhaps d eliberately so.
A lth o u g h the last Bé clau se m ust refer to pun ishm ent within
the land o f the dead, p erh ap s recallin g A g am em n o n ’ s reference
in the Ilia d to the pu n ish m en t o f oathbreakers in H ades
( ill. 2 7 8 —9), it is hard to pin dow n the m eaning o f the άττάλαμναι
fpéves and the pen alties w hich they p a y .5,1 E ith e r the pen alty is
death itse lf o r it is so m eth in g suffered afterw ard s in H ades: this
d ep en d s on how w e un d erstand αντίκα, ‘im m ed iately’ or ‘ there­
u p o n ’ , and on how sh a rp ly w e take the antithesis o f μ&ν and St.
T h e q uestio n is im p ortan t. I f P in d ar is sayin g that m en ’s φρίνις
are extin g u ish ed b y death, then that is nothin g strange or new;
b u t if on the other han d he is sayin g that the ψρΐνίς o f m en are
p u n ish ed in H ad es, then this represen ts a d ecisive difference
fro m the H o m eric con ception , w here the w raith is u tterly
d ifferen t fro m the ψ ρ ΐ ν ι ς o r θ υ μ ό ς o f the liv in g (see esp.
x x ii i . 10 3 —4). I f this is so P in d ar is using φρίνις rather than
ψυχή to n am e the s u rv iv o r in the afterlife, in m uch the sam e
*" M o s t (c.R. Z u n tz ( 1 9 7 1 ) . 84—7) h a v e assu m ed that the φ ρ ίι-tς p a y the
p e n n lty b y th e ir p u n ish m e n t in the a fte rlife . L lo y d - Jo n e s ( 19 S 5 : 2 5 2 —/») takes
ΙνθάΒ "αΰτίκ’ . . . to im p ly that th e 'h a p le ss m in d s’ o f m en arc p u n ish e d w hen
th e y arc e n fe e b le d b y the e x p e rie n ce o f death itse lf. H o w e v e r, lie goes on to
asso cia te the son'ut o f O l. 2. 58 w ith the m ir a accepted b y P e rse p h o n e in
fr . 1 3 3 M , so that e v e n on h is v ie w φρά·*ς in the fo rm e r an d φ νχή in the latter
m u s t be v e r y clo se to each o th e r in m e an in g . O n the q u e stio n o f the noti>af in
th e secon d Olympian, see also N ise tich ( 1 9 8 9 ) , S 2 - 4 .
 Epilogue: Flesh and S p irit after Ilom er 3 °9

w ay as he and h is A rc h a ic p red ecesso rs use φυχι) alon g w ith

θυμός and its kin as an integrated set o f n am es for the sp iritu al
essence o f the livin g .
T h e passage rem ain s a m b ig u o u s, and n oth in g certain can be
m ade o f w hat 1 have ju st su g g ested . P in d ar goes on to recount
the life o f the favo u red dead in the Isles o f the B lest, and links
success in the a fterlife to m oral p u rity m ain tain ed in the
virtu ou s m an 's φυχη th ro u gh su cce ssiv e m ortal lives:
o<7 oi S ' ('το ^ μ α σα ρ ία τ ρ ίς
* κ α τ ίρ ιυ Ο ι /ifiYavTC? αττο η ά μ π α ν d.SiVoip jfcc ig J
ψ ν χ ά ν , c r i ^ a v J i ó f oSov τταρα l\p o v o u τ ν ρ ο ιν . ( O l . 2 . 6 8 —7 0 )

It is clear enough that this refers to a seq u en ce o f in carn ation s

through w hich a m an ach ieves p erfectio n o f soul and attain s to
a state o f full b lessed n ess in the a fte rlife ; but b eyo n d that the
details o f the d octrin e arc again d ifficu lt. D o cs ίκατίρωΟι refer
to a sim ultan eous d o u b le existen ce o f the φυχι) in the m ortal
w o rld and the w o rld o f the dead , o r does it m ean that the φυχη
w hich a m an cu ltivates in each m ortal life w ill be tran slated in
the sam e state into the B e y o n d ?SI In isolation the passage
cannot be fu lly u n d ersto o d ; eith er w ay , h o w ev er, it is clear
that the condition o f m e n ’s φυχαί in this life has rep ercu ssio n s
on the fate o f their φυχαί in the afte rlife . T h e d o ctrin e d ep en d s
on an exact id entification b etw een the co re o f m an 's id en tity in
the m ortal w o rld w ith the carrier o f his id en tity in the w o rld o f
the dead: as su ch , it seem s to b ear d ire c tly on a w ell-d efin ed
concept o f an im m o rtal so u l.52
O ne o f the fragm en ts co rro b o rates the secon d Olympian on
the point that rew ard s and p u n ish m e n ts attend the p assage o f
sl O n the a m b ig u itie s o f carp it ixuriptuOt see M c G ib h o n (19 6 4 ). A fu rth e r
fragm e n t (94a M ) in clu d ed am o n g th e P a rth en em d e clare s that m o rtals w ill
have ‘ death less d a y s ' d e sp ite b o d ily d e a th , an d is a b o u t to e x p o u n d so m e th in g
ab ou t e ven ts b e fo re b irth (πριν yoc[o(*cii] ) w hen it b re a k s off. W ith a fe w m o re
w o rd s here w e m ig h t h a v e m u ch m o re to sa y a b o u t P in d a r 's d o ctrin es o f
re in carn atio n .
52 F o r o th e r P in d a ric re fe re n c e s to su ch a jo u r n e y w ith in th e m yth ical
a fte rlife , sec also fr s . 1 1 9 , 1 3 7 M . T h e d e ta ils o f the im a g e ry c le a rly look hack
to the p u n ish m en t o f sin n e rs in the latter p art o f the N c k u ia an d M e n e la u s '
sto ry o f the Isle s o f the B le st (tv . 5 6 1 - 7 0 ) ; w ith so m u ch H o m e r in the a ir . the
new and v e r y u n -H o m e r ic s o u l-d o c trin e is all th e m ore s trik in g . O n the
H o m e ric e x e m p la rs o f the m y th o lo g y o f the seco n d O ly m p ia n , See esp.
N 'tsetich (19 8 9 ), 2 7 - 7 2 p a ssim .
 310 Epilogue: Flesh and Spirit after Homer
the ψυχή between the world o f mortals and the world o f the
dead. H ere it is said that Persephone exacts a penalty from the
dead and sends them back as purified souls, ψυχαί, inside living
people:

otai δl Φ ιρ ο ιφ ό ν α ττοινάν παΑαιοϋ vivO tos

8ίξ ( τ α i,
i s τό»' UnepOev άλιον tttivuiv i v i r u i ί τ ( Γ
άνδιδο» ψ υχας π ά λ ιν , ί κ τά ν β α σ ιλ ή ις ά γ α υ ο ί
κ α ι σΟΛ·{» KpaiTtvoi σοψ ίαι Τ( μ ( γ ισ τ ο ί
άι·8ρ ις α ν ξο ί'τ α ι. (fr. 133- 5 Μ)
It is im possible to tell whether the penalty, ττοαά, o f this
passage is the sam e as the ττοιναί o f the second Olympian,
although the testim ony o f Philolaus (see above, p. 2 9 1) suggests
that there is a close link between the present passage and
Pythagorean beliefs; while parallels with contem porary Italian
and T hessalian funerary texts53 suggest that the doctrine o f the
present fragm ent may have taken shape through the myth of
the dism em berm ent and resurrection o f D ionysus, whose
experience was repeated in that o f the initiate. Be that as it
may, the im portant point is that the heart o f the doctrine in
Pindar’s w ords is the movement o f souls, ψ υ χ α ί, which first go
to H ades and arc sent back to the mortal world by Persephone.
A s each ψ υ χ ή m oves between w orlds, it carries the identity o f a
human being with it, and its quality in the world beyond death
seems to determ ine that o f the mortal man in whom it will next
be placed. T h ro u gh o u t this process the soul alone is the essence
o f what it m eans to be a human being.
I f the soul carries the self o f man with it at every’ stage o f life,
death, and resurrection, it follows that the body of man w ill be
accidental to his spiritual core. T h is sends us on to Pindar's
51 Pen din g system atic study o f the lore o f the grow ing body o f gold leaves
and oth er fu n erary texts, sec esp. Jan k o (19 8 4), L lo y d -Jones (19 8 5). L !o > d -
Jo n e s (19 8 9 ) prints the texts o f tw o further golden lam ellae from T h essaly
w hich m ake an explicit link between the story o f the resurrection o f D ion ysu s
und the d o ctn n c o f the soul expounded in the Pindaric fragm ent. On the
them e o f the purification o f the soul during the cycle o f death and reincarna­
tion see also P arker (19 8 3 ), 29 9 -30 7: W est (19 8 3), esp. 2 1 - 2 . A ccording to
W est's hypothetical reconstructions there was an account o f the reincarnation
o f souls in the ‘ R h ap so d ic T h e o g o n y’ (19 8 3 : 75), w hich derived in turn from
the 'P ro to go n u s T h e o g o n y ' m ade for Bacchics in Ionia about 500 b c (see 98—
to t, n o ).
 Epilogue: Flesh and Spirit after Homer 3*1

most explicit enunciation o f the dichotom y between body and

soul:
σ ώ μ α f it v f f a i T i u i ' t n t r a i θ α ν ά τ ω ι n (p io O (V tt,
ζαιόν 5 ' ί τ ι λ ( ίη ( τ α ι a lw vo s (ΐΰουλον· τό γ ά ρ ( ο τ ι μόνον
(κ 0<ών . . . (fr. 13 lb. 1—3 Μ)
T h e body is subject to death, but the a lw v o s cit>w\ov rem ains
free. H ere as in H om er an t ίδ ιυ λ ο ν m ust be an insubstantial
image, and although α ιώ ν in Pindar is usually the time span o f
life it occasionally retains its 1Iom cric m eaning as^an essence
or fluid that encapsulates life (see C h. 4, pp. 1 1 3 —14). 4 I f this
is the m eaning here, the α ιώ ν α ς ( ΐδ ω λ ο ν is a w raith represen t­
ing the living m an’s vitality and identity; but how ever it is
defined, the crucial point fo r us is that P in d ar identifies it
both as the su rv iv o r o f death and the spiritual core o f the
living— 'the part that com es from the go d s’ . D u rin g life it
acts as a conscience, gu id in g its ow ner in m aking m oral
decisions:
. . . c ÜOcl è i irpaaaövTojv μ (λ (ΐο ν , ά τ ά ρ (ΰ -
S ö v rtn a iv tv π ο λ λ ο ίς nvcip oif
ίκ ίκ ν ν ο ι rtp n v u iv ϊφ ό ρ π υ ιο α ν χ α λ ( π ώ ν τ < κ ρ ία ιν . ( 3 —5 )

W hen the man is awake it is dorm ant in the b o d y, but d u rin g

sleep it com m unicates the truth to him in d r e a m s . H e r e at last
we see the dualistic structure givin g clear shape to a doctrine o f
personal m orality. In this fragm ent, still m ore clearly than in
the other passages, Pindar acknow ledges the core o f m an as a
psychological and spiritual soul, nam ed typ ically but not
3‘ Pindar once uses αιώ ν fo r m arro w . So m eo n e has b lu d geon ed som eone
r!« r 10 death nnd crushed his b o d y so that the m arro w is dashed ou t o f the
bones, αιών S i S t ' oot/ uiv ίρραίαβη (fr. i n . s M ; cf. ix. 4 5 8 -9 ). T h is su ggests
that for P in dar the fu ll range o f m ean in g o f the w ord m ay b e sim ilar to w hat
it is for H om er. O therw ise the b est attestation o f αιω ΐ1 as an essence rath e r
tlum a tim e span com es, sign ifican tly, in a passage ab o u t the em p tin e ss o f
bodily life: o x iit Ciap | di'Opwrror. άΛλ" o’ rai· a iy.\a Sw oSorof <\Θψ, | λαμπρόν
ό ιγ γ ικ avSpÖjv κα ί μ ,ίλ ,χπ ς αιώ ν {P y th . 8. 9 5 - 7 ) . S e e also D eg an i
(19 6 1) . 45- 5«.
C om pare H ippoc. V iet. 86. fo r the concept that die soul is su b je c t to
the b ody when m an is aw ake, but acts o f its ow n acco rd w hen he sleeps
(cited by R egen bo gen (19 4 8 ). 2 6 -7 ). T h e D ervcn i p a p y ru s perh ap s refers (in
Y 10 “ n ° rP > - d o c,rIn e •hat the truth is revealed in dream s (sec W est
 3 1 2 Epilogue: Flesh and S p irit after Homer
e x c lu siv e ly as ψυχή,*'' w hich is distinct from the body both in
m ental life and in life after death. In this w ay his doctrines
im p ly or depen d upon the concept o f soul w hich was suggested,
i f no m ore, b y the sem antic range o f ψυχή observable th ro ugh ­
out A rc h a ic poetry.

Dialogue between the poet and his soul

T h e m ost strik in g feature o f the αιώνας ίΐΰιυλον is that it
com m u n icates truth to m an: and as such it presents a m irror
im age o f the ju st m an in the second O lym pian who keeps his
ψυχή a w ay from evils, ά~ό μάμηαν άδικων ίχαν \ ψυχάν
{O l. z. 69—70). I f w e put the two im ages together we can
gen eralize that P in d ar sees the relationship between body and
sp irit as a d ialogu e passing betw een them in both directions.
M erc it is vital to see that the sam e im age appears in a less
o vert form in passages where no special doctrine is brought
into p lay: w itness the introspective address to the ψυχή which
w e saw not only in P in d ar’s self-w arn in g against excessive
ideas {Pyth. 3. 6 1 —2) but also in som e lines o f his predeces­
so rs---S im o n id e s’ ού δύναμαι, ψυχή, Τ(φυλαγμόνος civai όττηδός
(fr. 2 1 W ) and po ssib ly S ap p h o ’s address to ψυχά άγαπάτα (fr.
62. 8 L - P ) . A s w c look fo r further exam ples o f this pattern, we
w ill no lo n ger need to restrict ourselves to the w ord ψυχή
alone: sin ce we h ave shown that in the context o f reflective
thought ψυχή tends to be inseparable from the θυμός fam ily, it
w ill m ake sense to take all these w o rd s together to see how
P in d ar con ceives o f the inner dialogue.
A lth o u gh earlier A rch aic poets (as well as H om er him self)
often represen t pon derin g thought as an address by se lf to
θυμός,S7 in P in d ar the inner dialogue between se lf and spirit is
pecu liar to the inspired prophet or poet. Ju st as C assan d ra’s
heart p ro p h esies the fall o f 'I roy,

54 O n «lie ran ge o f P in d a r's nnmes fo r the in n e r se lf, see also C la u s ( 1 9 8 1 :

I i 6 - t 8 ) , c o m p a rin g p h ilo so p h e r's n am es fo r the iran sm ig rato ry sou l; and of.
Z u n tz ( 19 7 « ) . 85.
57 S e e c s p . A rc h il, fr. 12 8 . i - . j \V ; Ib y c . fr. 3 1 7 b P ; T e r p . fr. 69 7 P; and
T h g n . 2 1 3 , 6 9 5 - 6 . 8 2 5 - 6 , 8 7 7 -8 , 10 2 9 - 3 0 , 10 70 a.
 Epilogue: Flesh and Spirit after Homer 3 *3

. . . ΐ κ λ α γ ζ ΐ (O ') U p[
δα ιμ όνιοι* κ ία ρ oXcjcii-
ot σ τ α ν α χ η ίς ά φ α ρ ,
κ α ι T o iäiü t κ ο ρ νφ ά ι o a -
μ α ιν τ ν λ ό γ ια ν . . . (Pac. 8a, fr. 521(A). 10—14 M)

so the poet him self can com m unicate in the con verse direction,
addressing his spirit as he m oves along the path o f his song. W e
have seen the one su rv iv in g exam ple w here the w ord φ υ χ ή is
used: μ-η, φ ίλα, φ υ χ ά , β ίο ν α θ ά ν α τ ο ν \ antOSf (P y t/ι. 3. 6 t —2); here
φυχή is the appropriate noun because o f the solem n ity o f the
sentim ent and its reference to m o rtality.58 M o re lightly he
addresses his Ο ν μ ό r in a spirit o f ‘carpe diem*, telling it to
enjoy love while youth lasts:

χ ρ ή ν μ ί ν κ α τ ά κ α ιρ ό ν ίρ ιά τ ια ν O piirtoO ai, Ovfif , αυν α λ ικ ία ι.

(fr. 1 2 3 . t Μ )

S im ilarly, he urges h im self not fall into love at the w ro n g time:

€ itj κ α ι tp u v κ α ι ΐρ ια τ ι
χ α ρ ίζ ίο Ο α ι κ α τ ά κ α ιρ ό ν
μ ι) -rrptoßirripav α ρ ιθ μ ο ύ
δ ΐια κ τ, Ο ιιμ ί, π ρ ά ( ιν . (fr. 1 27 Μ)

Sin ce the address to the spirit is linked to the poet’ s m ysteriou s

sense o f divine inspiration, it com es to the fore several tim es at
a turning-point in the flow o f ideas o f a song. T h u s his sp irit
chooses a new them e:

e! δ* άίθλα γαρύ<ν
ίλ δ τ α ι, φ ίλ ο ν η τ ο ρ . . . ( O l. I . 3 ~ 4 )

S im ilarly his heart w ill n ever adm it that it has told a talc to
discredit a hero’s m em ory:*9

" S im ila r in spirit is the un usual passage w here ICuxantios d eclin es the offer
o f d om inion o v er extra territo ries b ecause too m u ch p ro sp e rity m igh t provoke
d ivin e an ger. H e tells his ow n m in d to relin qu ish the cy p re ss-tree and the
m ead ow : la , d/»)»'. κνιτιίρισσο»*, la S I νομόν FfiptSiiiov (P o e . 4, fr. 52 1!. 50—I M |.
I f H . P elliccio ’ s em en d atio n to ο ί -nar'Ιφ ή π ιι is rig h t— a qu estio n w h ich I
am not qualified to ju d g e — it does not change the sense sign ifican tly as far as
ou r urgum ent here is con cern ed (see P clliccia (19 0 5 ) . esp. 3 3 4 -5 4 ) .
 314 Epilogue: Flesh and Spirit after Homer
ro 8* €μον· ον iTOTt φάθ€ΐ κ ία ρ
άτρόποιαχ N to rrro X tfio v ίλ κ ν σ α ι
fn c o i. (N e m . 7 . 1 0 2 - 4 )

His θυμός aims his song at a target like an archer aiming an

arrow,

ίπ ίχ < νΰν CKOvw 1 τ ό ζο ν , ά γ τ θ ν μ ( ' TiVa β ά λλομτν

ί κ μ α λ θ α κ ά ς a v re φρςνός ςΰ κ λ ία ς ο ια τοΰς Ι ΐν τ ις ;
(ΟΙ. 2. 89-9°; cf. Istlim. 5· 4^-7)

It steers his song as a helm sm an steers a ship:

θ υ μ ί, τίνα προς αλλοδα πόν

ά κρ ην Ι μ ο ν πλόον π α ρ α μ ίίβ ς α ι; (Nein. 3. 26—7)

In the strangest exam ple o f this kind o f imagery# Pindar hears

the m usic o f the Castalian spring as he approaches A pollo’s
territory at D elphi— an image, perhaps, o f poetic initiation as
much as o f setting the scene for the D elphic paean— and
follows his ητορ as a child follows its mother:

T\Topi ó i φ ί λ α α π α ΐς a r g μ α τ f p i Kt ο ι -rit

π α θ ό μ τ ν ο ς κ α τ ίβ α ν σ τςφ άνω ν
κ α ί θ η λ ιά ν τροφ όν άλοος λ\-
πόλλίΛίνας. (Pae. 6, fr. S2f. 12 -15 Μ)

N ote that elsewhere Pindar addresses the M use herself as his

mother, μάπρ óptripa (Nem. 3. 1): the parallel suggests that in
the present fragm ent he is guided by his spirit in the same way
as he m ight be guided by the deity o f song. T h e simile rccatls
the dichotom ies o f body and soul which we have seen in the
overtly m ystical fragm ents: ju st as the αιώνας (ίύαιλον is divine,
Ικ Οίών, and thus able to com m unicate moral truth to man, so
the poet's inspiration com es from the hidden spirit that is his
■ητορ. T h e precision o f the parallel suggests that there is nothing
novel or outlandish about the structure of body and spirit
im plied by the αιώνος eiStaAov fragm ent: in fact it is only a
particularly overt expression o f a dichotom y which is deep in
P in d ar’s understanding o f mental life, creativity, and life after
death, and which is implied on the sim plest level by the way he
uses the soul-w ords throughout his work.
 Epilogue: Flesh and Spirit after Ilom er 315

σώμα as the b o d y o f the liv in g m a n

A final c a p s t o n e c a n n o w b e fitted to o u r a r g u m e n t . W h e n w e
s a w in C h a p t e r 4 that H o m e r h a s n o w o r d f o r the b o d y o f th e
liv in g m a n , th is w a s e x p l a i n e d b y s a y i n g t h a t w i t h o u t th e
c o n c e p t o f a m i n d o r s o u l the b o d y c a n n o t b e d i s t i n g u i s h e d
fro m the total h u m a n b e in g , the ‘ 1 ’ w h o l i v e s a n d a c ts a n d
th in k s as a u n ity . I f I a m r ig h t to a r g u e th a t t h e A r c h a i c u s e o f
ψυχή im p lie s s u c h a c o n c e p t a n d s i g n a l s a n e w a n d u n - H o m c r i c
m o d e l o f id e n tity , it f o ll o w s th at th e n e w c a t e g o r y o j ‘s o u l ’ w i ll
m arch w ith a n ew ca teg o ry o f 'b o d y '; and in d eed w e h ave
a lr e a d y see n the w o r d σώ μα h e l p i n g to a r t i c u l a t e o n e o f
P i n d a r ’s d u a lis tic im a g e s o f m a n :

π ώ μ α μ < i’ rra v rc u v ΐ τ τ ί τ α ι Ο α ν ά τ α ιι u t p i a O f v t l ,
ζιυόν δ '( τ ι Λίότίτα« αΐιόνος (ΐδουλον . . . (fr. 1 3 1 b . 1 —2 Μ )

T h e s p ir it s u r v i v e s d e a th , b u t th e b o d y is b r o u g h t a w a y b y
D e a t h . H e r e at a p in c h th e w o r d σώ μα m i g h t b e g l o s s e d as
'c o r p s e ', as in th e H o m e r i c u s a g e ; b u t th e r e f e r e n c e to th e
l iv in g b o d y is u n m i s t a k a b le in a n o t h e r f r a g m e n t w h e r e P i n d a r
c o n tra sts the im m o r t a l i t y o f th e s o u l w i t h th e m o r t a l i t y o f th e
b o d y ’s death :

αΟανηται βροτοίς
άμίραι, σώμα δ*ta ri Ονατόν. (P a rth . I , fr. 94a. 14 —15 M )

S i m i l a r l y , in less m a r k e d c o n t e x t s P i n d a r s p e a k s o f t h e σ ώ μ α τα
of d e fea ted w r e s t l e r s (Pyth. 8. 8 1 - 2 ) a n d th e b o d y o f a l i v i n g
b a b y is its αβρόν \ σώμα ( O l . 6. 5 5 - 6 ) ; w h i l e B a c c h y l i d c s s a y s
that p o e t r y k e e p s m e n ’s g r e a t d e e d s in t a c t as th e b o d y d e c l i n e s :
aptTdfy y t μ ] ί ν οΰ μινϋΟ ΐΐ
β ρ ο τ ύ ν α μ α σίιΰμίαπ φ ό γ γ ο ί, ά λ λ α
Μ ο ύ σ α ν ιν τ ρ [ ( φ ( ί) . (3. (JO-2)

A w r e s t l e r h o ld s d o w n the b o d i e s o f h is o p p o n e n t s , y o i a [ W «
σω ]ματα (9 . 3 8 ) ; H e r a c l e s ’ s w o r d fa ils to p e n e t r a t e th e σώ μα o f
the N e m e a n lion ( 1 3 . 5 I - 2 ) ; a n d M i n o s tells T h e s e u s to p l u n g e
m to th e s ea b y ’ t h r o w i n g h is b o d y d o w n ’ , δικώ ν Opaoei σώμα
m anne ‘ h^ ί 3)’ a ^hraaK w ^ich seem s to m ake a
mannered conceit o f the antithesis betw een b ody and se lf In
e a rlie r l ite r a tu r*<-
e th
m ee rre
e aa rr ec aa h
h a™nHd fl ,u, ll o
„ rf e x a m p l■ e s* to s ,h o w t h ant
 3i 6 Fpilogue: Flesh and Spirit after Homer
ih is usage o f σώμα w as alread y w ell established before the time
o f P in d a r and B acch y lid cs. W itness A rch ilo ch u s when he
d escrib es h im se lf sed u cin g or sexu ally assaulting a girl:
μ α λ θ α κ ή δ[Υ μιι>
λ'λαι ] ν η ι κ α λ ν φ α ς, α ΰ χ ίν ’ ά γ κ ιίλ η ις ίχα>[ν,
• * · Ι μ α τ ι ττα ν[α ]η μ ξνη ν
t u is H a r t ι ·( β ρ [
ο ζ] lij i’ Tf y e p a iv T^rruuy ίφ ηφ ά μ-ην
• . .] ρ ίφ η ν f v to v
ή β η * ΐττή λ υ σ ιν χ ρ ό α
α π α ν τ]<~ σ ώ μ α κ α λ ό ν άμφ αφ <σμΐνπς
• . . .]ον σ φ ή κ α μίνας
ξ α ν θ ή ς ίττιφ αύ[νυν τ ρ ιχ ό ς . (fr. i g 6 a . 4 4 —S 3 W )

D esp ite the lacunae the sense is clear: excited by the bloom o f
yo u th , Τ)βης ίττηλυσιν, an her skin, χρόα, he em braces her whole
b o d y , σώμα, and sp ills his seed on her loins.60 T heognis
articu lates the dich o to m y between body and spirit still more
sta rk ly w h en he com plain s to P overty that she disgraces both
h is b o d y and h is ν ό ο ς , w hich we can now confidently translate
as ‘ m in d ’ :
α 8 ( ΐ λ ή Πίνΐη, τ ί ίμαΐς (πικπμίνη ώμοι;
σ ώ μ α κ α τ α ιο χ ν ι·ίΐς κ α ί νυον ι)μ (Τ (ρ ο ι·; (6*|9“ 5° )

T h e co n trast som ew h at resem bles H o m er's description of

O d y sse u s’ m en transform ed b y C irce, who had their own
thoughts but the lim bs and faces o f sw ine; here, how ever, the
n ew sense o f the w ord σώμα inform s an im age beyond what was
p o ssib le in the language and lore o f the epic poet.

Ml In th e ir o rig in al edition o f the C o lo g n e fragm ent. M e rk clb ach and W est

( 10 7 4 : t i t ) fo llo w ed S n e ll on σώμα and held lh at, w ith H es. II'D 540, this is
the e a rlie st e x a m p le o f σώμα used fo r the livin g b o d y rather than the corpse.
Λ^ΓΐιβΙΙιαοΙι ( i 9 7 s ) w ent on to p ro d u ce an elaborate new in terpretation Me
co m p are d the A rc h ilo c h u s passage w ith the σώμα sim ile o f W a d ill. 2 3 —6,
w h ic h he took to re fe r to a lion fasten in g on the b o d y o f a livin g an im al; and
u s in g the le tte rs ώ α τι vtßp in ih r C o lo g n e fragm en t (I. 47), he held lhat
A r c h ilo c h u s w as re m o d e llin g the H o m e ric sim ile hv likening h im se lf to a
p re d a to ry beast and the g ir l's b o d y to that o f its (livin g) q u arry. I have argued
(C h . 4, p. 1 1 7 ) 'h a l there is no pressin g reason to lake the H o m eric sim ile in
that w ay; an d S . R . S lin g s ( 19 7 5 ) hns show n that M c rk c lb a c h 's reconstru ction
w as u n n e ce ssary and that it is both sim p le r and m ore likely that A rch ilo c h u s is
u sin g σώμα in w hat w as fo r him an e ve ryd ay sense, w ith no H o m e ric allu sion.
 Epilogue: Flesh and Spirit after Flower 317

Conclusion: ψυχή and σώμα in Ilesiod

T h e evidence, then, is that the language and lore o f A rchaic
poetry bears w itness to a structure o f b ody and soul w hich is
in sharp contrast with the undifferentiated unity o f H om eric
man in life and death. W hen a w ord for ‘ b o d y’ and a word for
‘spirit’ appear at about the sam e tim e and in the sam e authors,
it would be perverse not to look in the history o f ideas to
explain these new and unprecedented sym b ols o f a dichotom y
between inner se lf and outer Mesh. But the linguistic evidence
tells against the conclusion that the concept o f the soul sprang
into existence fu lly arm ed from the head o f a single philo­
sophical or religious m ovem ent. A lthough P in d ar’s revelations
show that it has hecom c possible for a lyric poet to listen to
the dualistic doctrines o f religious innovators, none the less
there is enough evidence from the usage o f ψυχή am ong the
A rchaic poets before Pindar to show that these doctrines
m erely give concrete form to som ething that had already
happened in the m icrocosm represented b y the m eaning o f a
single sim ple w ord. It is not the whole truth to say that the
poetic language is feeling the repercussions o f esoteric reli­
gion; it is better to surm ise that both the language and the
doctrines bear w itness in their different w ays to a deeper
cultural m ovem ent. In this sense a sea change has taken
place on each level o f G reek culture, and the innovation in
language runs in tandem w ith an innovation in the realm o f
ideas. T h is m eans that there is good reason to suppose that
the extension o f the sem antic range o f ψυχή w as at once
culturally and lin guistically significant, and correspondingly
that its different I Iom eric m eaning represents a different w ay
o f thinking about m an.
One last doubt rem ains. Because the epic vocabulary and
repertoire m ay have crystallized long before the Iliad and
Odyssey w ere com posed, it is possible that what we have
seen in H o m er’s depiction o f m an is no closer to the m ain­
stream o f eigh th -cen tury thought than is what we find in the
A rchaic poets, even in P in d ar’s m ost m ystical revelations. T h is
means that we are left with two possible conclusions: either the
H om eric epics bear w itness to an earlier stage o f the d evelop­
ment o f the G reek w o rld -picture, or else they represent a view
3 18 Epilogue: Flesh and Spirit after Homer
of man that was peculiar to the epic genre in term s o f both
language and im age-m aking.
How can we choose between those alternatives? T h e only
suggestion o f an answ er, as far as 1 can see, is provided by the
scant exam ples o f ψ υ χ ή and σ ώ μ α in what survives o f the early
epic tradition outside H o m er/’1 Here the evidence suggests that
Hesiod stands very close to the lyric poets.65 Although the
subject-m atter o f the Theogony and the IVorks and Days means
that they offer no instance o f the loss o f the ψ υ χ ή in death, wc
once find a ψ ι υ χ ή given to the living man in a way that contrasts
sharply w ith the H om eric norm . M en risk their lives when they
go to sea to trade, because they think m oney is the same thing
as life itself:
χ α λ ιπ ώ ς κ€ ψ υ γ ο ις κ α κ ό ν * αΛΛά ν υ κ α ι τά
ά ν θ ρ ω π ο ι ρ ί ζ ο υ ο ι ν ά ι δ ρ ς ί η ι ο ι ν ό ο ιο '
χ ρ η / ι α τ α γ ά ρ ψ υ χ ή r r e \ t r a i SoAoioi βροτοΓσιν.
δ ί ΐ ν ό ν δ ’ ί σ τ ι O a v tiV μ ( τ ά κ ύ μ α σ ι ν . ( W D 6 S 4 —7 )

A lthough the context distantly im plies the risk o f drowning,

recalling som e instances in the Odyssey,6J nevertheless the shift
in the positive direction is m ore m arked here than in any
H om eric exam ple: m en take risks because they equate money
with life, that is w ith life cultivated and enjoyed/’4 Alongside
41 T h e evidence of the earlier Hymns is trivial: the few examples of ψ υχή
either reproduce Homeric formulae (Λ. A p . iii. 74. ix. 255) or
conform to the usual patterns of Archaic verse. T h e pattern is similar in the
Hcsiodic S h i e l d o j H e r a c l e s : to die is to lose ψ υ χ ή and to kill it is to take it
tnvay, a rT ovpapevoi ψ υ χ α ς ( 1 7 3 ) , and in the heightened imagers· of this poem
the separation of ψ υ χ ή from corpse is articulated more sharply than is usual in
Homer: τώι* κ α ι ψ υ χ α ί p i v χΟ όνα δόνουσ* 71ΐδοί elaut | αντώτ, ό α τ ια δi a é i eieei
fitvoto σαττα'σ ης | Σ ι ι ρ ί ο υ άζαλ/οιο κ ιλ α ιν ή ι ervOerai atrji ( 1 5 t —3 sim. 254—5). The
foes o f Heracles arc slain and their ψ υ χ α ί go to Hades, but their bones rot in
the mortal world: the passage obviously resembles the proem of the I l i a d but
marks out a starker contrast between corpse and wraith. Similarly the
C a t a lo g u e o j W o m e n offers on instance so close to one of our Homeric
passages that it seems to be a deliberate reminiscence. Hippomenes' race
with Atalanta is a matter of life and death for him, τώι 8r erepi ψ υ χ ή ς eréXe[eo
δ ρ ό μ ο ς , ή ς ά λ ϋ ιν α ι | ή ΐ φ γ γ ι ϊ ν (fr. 7 (>■ 7 ~& Μ —W ), just as Hector and Achilles
raced each other for life or death around T r o y , erepi ψ υ χ ή ς θ ϊο ν Έ κ τ ο ρ ο ς
ιιτποδάμοιο (XX11. 1 6 1 ).
45 On οώμα, ψ υ χ ή , and the question of a body-soul dichotomy in Hesiod,
see also Krafft (1963), 2 4 —35.
44 Cf. West ad loc., with a collection of parallels in other poets.
[•See o p p o s it e p a g e J ot n . 6 4]
 Epilogue: Flesh and S p irit after Homer 319

this hint that H esiod sees φυχή as the foundation o f life stan d s
the fact that he definitely uses οώμα fo r the b o d y o f a liv in g
man. He bids the listener w ear a cloak so that his hair w ill not
stand up on his body,
ίϊ·α ro t τρΙχ<ς ά τ ρ < μ ίω σ ι
μ η δ ' o p O a l Φ ρ ι ο σ ω σ ι ν a a ρ ό μ π 'ΐ ι ι κ α τά α ά ιμ α . (IV D 5 3 9 —4 ° )

T h is is enough to show that fo r H esiod the sem antic d e v e lo p ­

ment o f σώμα and φυχή has gone a step fu rth er than fo r
H om er;65 and this in turn suggests that it is not sim p ly because
o f the conventions o f hexam eter v e rse-m a k in g that" w e have
been able to contrast the H o m eric u sage w ith that o f the later
poets w orking in other genres. U n less H esiod is sign ifican tly
earlier in date than H o m er,66 this en co u rages a su sp icio n , if no
m ore, that the A rch aic poets bear w itn ess to a sem an tic and
conceptual change w hich happened after the Ilia d and Odyssey
took shape.

w Compare T h g n . 2 2 9 - 3 0 : τ ις du κ ο ρ ί ο α ι ν ά π α ν rar; | χ ρ ή μ α τ ά τ ο ι Ο ν η το ίς
y ii'c r αι α φ ροσ άιτ).

,Λ KrafTt (ΐ9<>3; 3 5 ~ 5 ° ) also surveys Hesiod’ s use of δ τ μ α ς , φ ν η . and other

words translatable as 'body', and contrasts Hesiod's sense of physical body
with the uses of the same words in Homer. T h e shift is less clear than in the
case of o w p a .
A s argued by West (1995).
 REFERENCES

A d k in s, A . W . H . (i9 6 0 ), M erit and Responsibility: A Study in Greek

Values (O xfo rd ).
------ (19 6 9 ), 'T h re a te n in g , A b u sin g and F e e lin g A n g ry in the H o ­
m eric P o em s', J H S 89: 7 —2 1 .
------ ( ·9 7 θ ). From the M any to the One (L o n d o n ). J
A l s t e r , B . (19 8 0 ) (cd.), Death in Mesopotamia (C o p en h agen ).
A l y , VV. ( 19 14 ) , 'L e x ik a lis c h e S tre ifz ü g e ', Glotta, 5 : 5 7 - 7 9 ·
A n d e r s o n , M . J . ( 1 9 9 7 ) , The F all o f Troy in Early Greek Poetry and
A rt (O xfo rd ).
A n d r o n i k o s , M . (19 6 8 ), Totenkult {—Archaeologia Homerica, pt.
I I l.w ) (G o ttin gen ).
A r b m a n , E. ( 19 2 6 - 7 ) , 'U n te rsu c h u n g e n z u r p rim itive n S e e le n v o r­
stellu n g m it b eso n d erer R ü c k sic h t a u f In d ie n ’ , Le Monde Oriental,
2 0 ( 19 2 6 ) , 8 5 -2 2 6 ; 2 1 ( 19 2 7 ) , 1 - 1 8 5 .
A r e n d , \V. ( 19 5 3 ) , Die typischen Scenen bei Homer (B e rlin ).
A r i ê s , P. ( 1 9 S 1 ) , A t the Hour o f our Death (L o n d o n ; tr. from
L ’Homme devant la mort (P a ris, 19 7 7 ) ) .
A t h a n a s s a k i s , A . ( 1 9 7 1 ) , ‘ A n E n q u iry into the E ty m o lo g y and
M ean in g o f ΐφθιμος in the E a rly E p ic ’ , Glotta, 49: 1 - 2 1 .
A u s t i n , N . (19 7 5 ). A rchery at the Dark o f the Moon: Poetic Problems
in Homer's O d y ssey (B erk eley and L o s A n geles).
------ (19 9 4 ). Helen o f Troy and her Shameless Phantom (Ith a ca , N Y ) .
B a d e r , F . ( 19 9 1) , “ A u t o u r de pipis atAAoiror", RPh 6 5 : 3 1 —44 .
B a k k e r , E . J . (19 9 7 ), Poetry in Speech: O rality and Homeric Discourse
(Ith aca, N Y ) .
B a n n e r t , H . ( 19 7 8 ) , ‘ Z u r V o g e lg esta lt d er G ö tte r bei H om er*. II ' 5
12 : 29—42.
B a r f i e l d , O . (19 2 8 ), Poetic Diction: A Study in Meaning (L o n d o n ).
B.AnNES, J . (19 7 9 ), The Presocratic Philosophers, 2 vols. (L o n d o n ).
B u c k e r , A . S . (19 9 0 ), 'T h e S h ie ld o f A ch ille s and the T o d ie s o f
H o m eric D e sc rip tio n ', A JP h 1 1 1 : 13 9 —5 3.
B e c k e r , O . ( 19 3 7 ) , Das Bild des Weges (Hermes E in zelsch riften , 4;
B erlin ).
B e e k e s , R . S . P . (19 6 9 ), The Development o f the Proto-Indo-European
Laryngeals in Greek (T h e H agu e).
------ (19 9 8 ), ‘ H ad es and E ly s io n ’ , in J . Ja sn n o ff el al. (cd s.), M er
Curad: Studies in Honour of C alvert Watkins (In n sb ru ck ), 17 - 2 8 .

1 'J · ·
322 References
B e n v e n i s t e , E . (19 32 η ), “ G r e c φ ο χ ή ” , DSL 3 3 : 1 6 5 - 8 .
------ (19 326), ‘ L e Sen s du mot κολοσσοί et les noms grccs de la statue',
RPh ft: 1 18 - 3 5 .
------( '9 3 7 ) . 'E xp ression indo-europêcnne de l'c tem ité', DSL 1 1 2 :
10 3 -12 .
------ ( '9 7 · ) , Problems in General Linguistics (M iam i; tr. from Problc-
mes de linguistique generale (19 6 6 )).
------( ' 9 7 3 ). Indo-European Language and Society (Lo n d o n ; tr. from
Le Vocabulaire des institutions indo-europêennes (19 6 9 )).
B e r n s t e i n , Λ . E . (19 9 3 )· The Formation of Hell: Death and Retribu­
tion in the Ancient and Early Christian Worlds (London).
B i a n c h i , F. (19 5 3 ), ΔΙΟΣ Α 1ΣΑ (Rom e).
B ic k e l , E. (19 26), Homerischer Scelenglaube (B erlin).
B la ck,M . (19 5 5 ), 'M eta p h o r', Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society,
55: *73- 9 4 -
B lacker, C ., and L oew e, M . ( 1 9 7 5 ) ( e d s .) , Ancient Cosmologies
(London).
B l a n c , A . (19 8 5), "É ty m o lo g ie de ά τ τ η ν ή ς et de - π ρ ο σ η ν ή ς " , R P h 59:
255- 6 3 ·
B l ü m e l , R . (19 2 7 ), "H o m erisc h τ α ρ χ ύ ω ” , Giotto, 15 : 78-84.
B o a s e , T . S . R . (19 7 2 ), Death in the Middle Ages (London).
B o e d e k e k , D . (19 8 4 ), Descent from Heaven: Images oj Dele in Greek
Poetry and Religion (C h ico, C alif.).
B Ö H M E , J . (19 2 9 ), Die Seele und das Ich im homerischen Epos (Leipzig).
B o l t o n , J . D . P . (19 6 2 ), Aristeas of Proconnesus (O xford).
B o t t é r o , J . (19 8 7 ), Mesopolamie: L ’Écriture, la religion el les dieux
(Paris).
B r a s w e l l , B . K . ( 1 9 7 1 ) , ‘ M ythological innovation in the Iliad', CQ
2 1 : 16 - 2 7 .
B r e m e r , J . M . (19 9 0 ), "P in d a r 's P a r a d o x i c a l c'yó>", in Slings (1990a),
4 1- 5 8 ·
------ OE J o n g , I. F . J ., and K a l e F , J. (19 8 7) (eds.), Homer: Beyond
Oral Poetry (A m sterdam ).
B r e m m e r , J . (19 8 3 ), The Early Greek Concept of the Soul (London).
------ ( '9 8 7 ) (ed.), Interpretations of Greek Mythology (London).
------ (19 8 8 ). 'L a P lasticilc du m ythe: M eleagre dans la poésie horac-
riq u e ', in C alam e and Bérard (19 8 8 ), 3 7 -5 6 .
B ü c h n e r , W . ( 19 3 7 ), 'P ro b lem e der hom erischen N ek yia’ , Hermes,
7 2 : 10 4 -2 2 .
B u r k e r t , W . (i9 6 0 ), 'D a s L ie d von A res und A p h ro d ite’ , RliM 103:
13 0 -4 4 .
------ ( 19 6 1) , ‘ E ly sio n ’ , Glotta, 39: 2 0 8 - 13 .
 References 323
------ (19 72), Lore and Science in Ancient Pythagoreanism (C a m b rid ge,
M ass.; tr. from Weisheit und Wissenschaft (19 6 2 ) ).
------ (1979), Structure and H is to ry in Greek M y th o lo g y and R itu a l
(Berkeley and L o s Angeles).
------ (19 8 s ), Greek Religion (Oxford; tr. from Griechische Religion der
archaischen und klassischen Epoche ( 19 7 7 ) ).
------ (1992), The Orientalising Revolution: N e a r Eastern Influence on
Greek Culture in the E a r ly A rcha ic A g e (C am b rid ge, M ass.; new
version of Die oricnlalisierende Epoche in der griechischen Religion
und Lite ra tu r ( S I I A W 1984, A b h . t; Heidelberg).
B u r n e t t , A. P. (19 8 3 ), Three A rc h a ic Poets: Archilochus, Alcaeus,
Sappho (London).
------( '9 9 O . ‘ Signals from the Unconscious in E a rly G re e k P o e try ’ ,
C P h 86: 27 5-3 0 0 .
B u s h n e l l , R . W. (19 82), ‘ R ead in g " W i n g e d W o rd s ” : H o m eric B ird
Signs, Sim iles and E piphanies', Helios, g. t: 1 —13 .
B u x t o n , R . (1994), Im a g in a ry Greece: Th e Contexts of M yth o lo g y 1
(Cambridge).
C a i r o , G . B . (1980), Th e Language and Im a g e ry of the B ible
(London).
C a l a m e , C . (19 77), Les Chceurs de jeunes [dies en Grèce archaique, i
(Rome).
------ and B ê r a r d , C . (1988) (cds.), Metamorphoses du mythe en Grèce
antique (Geneva).
C a l h o u n , G . Μ . ( 19 3 5 ) . ‘T h e A rt o f F o rm u la in H o m e r— <π«α
jrrcpJcvTa", C P h 30: 2 1 5 —27.
------ O 937). ‘ H o m e r’s G o d s : P rolegom en a', T A P h A 6 8 : 1 1 —25.
C a r t e r , J . B ., and M o r i u s , S . P. ( 1 9 9 5 ) ( c d s .) . Th e Ages o f H o m e r : A
Tribute to E m ily Townsend Vermculc (A u stin , T e x . ) .
C a s w e l l , C. P. (1990), A S tu d y of θυμός in E a r ly Greek E p ic
(Mnemosyne, S u p p i. 1 1 4 ; Leiden).
C e s t u i c n a n o , A . (19 5 2 ) , 'A n cora a proposito di πορφύρν/πορφύρίος’,
M a ta , 5: 1 1 8 - 2 0 .
C h .v n t r a i n e , P. ( 1 9 3 3 ) , L a Form ation des norns en grec ancien (Paris).
------ (1942). G ram m aire homêrique, 2 vols. (Paris, 1 9 4 2 - 5 3 ) .
(1954). ‘ L e D ivin et les dieux chez H o m è re ', in L a N o tio n du
divtn depths Homere jusqu a P la ton (En trctiens H a rd t, 1 ; G e n e v a )
C h E Y K S. A . ( ιη τη ) 'I T m n U r l . _____ i___e>>\\ *χ * \ .

(*983)» ' L c θ υ μ ό ς et la cor

hom êrique', R B P h 6 1 : 20 -8 6
324 References
C A . ( 1 9 S 5 ) , ‘ Recherche su r l'emploi des synonymes
h eyn s, ή τ op, κήρ ,
κραδιη dans VIliade et 1'Odyssee', RBPh 63: 1 5 - 7 5 .
C N N - F r a n C K , L . ( 1 9 7 1 ) . ‘ L e R itucl des funcrailtes royales
h r is t m a
hittites’ , RH A 29: 6 t —i i i .
C l a r k e , M . J . ( 19 0 5 η ) . ‘ A csch ylus on Mud and Dust', Hennathenn,
158: 7-26.
-------(19 9 5& ), 'T h e W isd o m o f T h a le s and the P ro b lem o f the W ord
hicros', CQ 4 5 : 296—3 1 7 .
------ (19 9 6 ), r e v ie w o f A u stin (19 9 4 ), J H S 1 16: 1 9 0 - 1 .
------ ( , 9 9 7 ). ‘ G o d s and M o u n ta in s in G re ek M y th and P oetry’ , in
A . B . L l o y d (ed.), ]Vhat is n Gnd ? (Sw ansea), 65—80.
C l a r k e , W . M . ( 19 7 4 ) , ' T h e G o d in the D e w ’ , A C 43: 57—73.
C l a u s , D . B . ( i g S i ) , Totcard the Soul: A n Enquiry into the Meaning of
φνχή before Plato ( N e w Haven).
C l a y , J . S . ( 1 9 S 1 ) , ‘ Im m ortal and Ageless F o re v e r', C J 77: 1 1 2 - 1 7 .
C o l d s t r e a m , J . N . ( 19 7 6 ) , ‘ H ero C u lts in the A g e o f H o m e r', J H S
96: 8 - 1 7 .
C o m r e l l a c k , F . M . (19 7 5 ), 'A g a m e m n o n ’s Rluck H eart', G li 4: 8 1- 9 .
------ ( 19 8 4 ), ‘ A H o m e ric M e ta p h o r ', A JP 10 5 : 247—57.
C r a n e , G . ( 19 8 8 ), Calypso; Backgrounds and Conventions of the
O d y s s e y (F ra n k fu rt).
D a l l e y , S . ( 1 9 9 1 ) , Myths from I\Iesopolamia (Oxford).
D a RCUS, S . M . ( 19 7 7 ) . " T h e -d>pu>v E pithets of θυμός", Glotla, 55:
178 -8 2.
------ ( 19 7 9 « ) , Ά P e r s o n ’ s Relation to φυχ>) in H om er, Hesiod and the
G r e e k L y r i c P oets', Glotta 57: 3 0 -9 .
------ ( 1 979/1), ‘ A P erso n 's Relation to Φρήν in H om er, Hesiod and the
G r e e k L y r i c Poets’ , Glotta, 57: 15 9 —73·
------ (19 80 ), ‘ H o w a person relates to voos in H om er, Hesiod and the
G r e e k lyric poets', Glotta, 58: 3 3 - 4 4 -
os D a r c u s S u l l i v a n , S . (19 80 ), ‘ H o w a Person Relates to θυμός in
H o m e r ’ , I F S5: 1 3 8 - 5 0 .
------ ( 1 9 8 1 ) , ' T h e F un ction o f θ υ μ ό ς in Hesiod and the G re e k L y ric
P o e ts ’ , Glotta, 59: 1 4 7 - 5 5 ·
------ ( 19 8 7 ) , ‘'-npaniSfς in H o m e r ” , Glotta, 65 : 18 2 - 9 3 .
------ (19 S 8 ), Psychological A ctivity in Homer; A Stuily of φρήν
(Ottawa).
D a v i e s , M . (19 89 ), The Epic Cycle (Bristol).
D e c i a n i , E. ( 1 9 6 1 ) , Attin· da Ornem ad Aristotele (Padua).
D i e t r i c h , B . C . ( 19 6 5 ), Death, Fate and the Gods (Lon don ).
D lH L E , A . ( 19 8 2 ) , 'T o te n g la u b e und Seelenvorstellung im 7. J a h r ­
hundert vor C h ristu s ’ , in Gedenkschrift A . Sluiber (M ü n ste r), 9-20.
 References 325
D ilc h er , R . (19 9 5 ), Studies in Heraclitus ( S p u d a s m a ta , 56; H ild es-
lieim).
D ik lm e ier , Γ . ( 19 6 7 ) , Die Vogelgestalt homerischer Götter {SHA I F
19 67, A b h . 2; H eidelberg).
D o d d s , E . R . ( 1 9 5 1 ) , The Greeks and the Irrational (B e rk e le y and L o s
Angeles).
D o v l e , R . E . (19 84), Ατη, its Use and Meaning ( N e w Y o r k ) .
D u i i o u x , Y . ( 19 9 2), Le Verhe grec ancien ( L o u v a in ).
D u r a n t e , M . (19680), “ "Enta Trrepótvra: die R e d e als ‘ W e g ’ in
griechischen und vedischen B ild e r n ” , in R . S c h m itt (19 6 8 ) , 2 4 2 —
60. j
------ (19686), ’ Die T e r m in o lo g ie fü r das dich terische S c h a ffe n ', in
R . Sch m itt (1968), 2 6 1 - 9 0 .
E d m u n d s , L . (19 9 0) (cd.). Approaches to Greek Myth (Baltim ore).
E d w a r d s , M . \V. (19 86), ‘T h e C o n v e n tio n s o f a H o m e r ic F u n e r a l', in
J . H. Betts (cd.), Studies in Honour of T. B. L . Webster (Bristol),
84-9=·
------ (19 8 7), Homer. Poet of the Iliad (Baltim ore).
------ (1988), ‘ H o m er and Oral T r a d i t io n , P art I I ’ , Oral Tradition 3:
i t-60.
------ ( 1 9 9 1 ) , Introduction to vol. 5 o f The I l ia d : A Commentary
(Cam bridge).
E l i a d e , M . (1964), Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy
(L o n d o n ; tr. from Le Chamanisme ei les techniques archai'qties de
l'extase (Paris, 1 9 5 1 ) ) .
E l i o t , T . S. ( 1 9 2 1 ) , ' T h e M e ta p h y s ic a l P o ets’ (orig. p u b . 1 9 2 1 ; cited
from Selected Prose (H a rm o n d s w o rth , 1 9 7 5 ) , 5 9 - 6 7 ) .
E llio er , \\ . ( 1 9 7 5 ) , Die Darstellung der Landschaft in der griechischen
Dichtung (Berlin).
E m p s o n , W . ( 19 30 ), Seven Types of Ambiguity ( L o n d o n ) .
E r b s e , Η. ( 19 7 2 ) , Beitrage zum Verständnis der Odyssee (Berlin).
------ (1980), ‘ H o m erisch e G ö t t e r in V oge lg esta lt', Hermes. 108: 2 5 9 ­
74·
(1984). ' Z u r M o tiva tio n des H a n d e ln s bei H o m e r ', Perspektiven
der Philosophie, 10 : 207—28.
(1986), Untersuchungen zur Funktion der Götter im homerischen
Epos (Berlin).
E v a n s - P r i t c h a r d , Ε . E . ( 19 5 6 ), Nuer Religion (O xford).
------(*965), Theories of Primitive Religion (O xford).
E v e r s o n , S. ( 1 9 9 1 ) (ed.). Psychology ( = Companions to Ancient Philo-
sophy, no. 2; C am b rid g e ).
F a r r e r , Λ . M . ( 1 9 7 2 ) , ‘ A n E n g lish A p p re c ia tio n ’ , in I I . W . Bartsch
(cd.), Kerygma and Myth. A Theological Debate (L o n d o n ) , 2 1 2 - 2 3 .
326 References
F e n ik ,B. (1968), Typ ic a l Battle Scenes in the Iliad ( Hennes Einzel-
schriftcn, 2 1 ; Wiesbaden).
------ (1978a) (cd.), I Ionier: Tra d itio n and Invention (Leiden).
------ (19786), 'Stylisation and Variety: F o u r Monologues in the Ilia d ',
in Fenik ( 1 9 7 8 a ) , 6 8 - 9 0 .
F e r n a n d e z - G a i .i a n o , Μ . (1992), Introduction to Odyssey xxii, in
vol. 3 o f A Commentary on Ilo m c r’s Odyssey (Oxford).
F e s t u g i e r e , A . J . ( 1 9 4 9 ) , ' L e Sens philosophique du m o t ahóv', P P
1 1: 17 2 -8 9 .
F o c k e , F . ( 1 9 4 3 ) , Die Odyssee ( S t u t t g a r t ) .
F r a m e , D. (1978), Th e M y th of R eturn in Creek E pic (N ew Haven).
F r a n k e l , H . ( i 9 6 0 ) , U ’cge und Formen frühgriechischen Denkens, 2 n d
edn. (Munich).
------ (>975), E a r ly Greek Poetry and Philosophy (Oxford; tr. from
Dichtung und Philosophie des frühen Griechentums (19 62)).
F r a z e r , J . ( 1 9 2 2 ) , The Golden Bough, abridged edn. (London).
F r i e d r i c h , W . H . ( 1 9 5 6 ) , Verwundung und T o d in der Ilias ( G ö t ­
t in g e n ).
F r i s k , II. (1966), Kleine Schriften (Göteborg).
v o n F r i t z , K . (19 43), “ Νόος and votiv in the Homeric Poems” , C Ph

38: 79 - 9 3 ·
G arbrah, K . A . (19 77), ‘T b c Scholia on the Ending of the Odyssey',
W J A 3: 7 - 1 6 .
G a r l a n d , R . ( 19 8 1) , ‘ T h e Causation of Death in the Ilia d: A T h e o ­
logical and Biological Investigation’ , B J C S 28: 43-60.
------ (1984), "yepas Οανόντωι— an Investigation into the Claims of the
Homeric D ead” , A n cS oc 15 : 5—22.
------ (1985), Th e Greek W a y of Death (London).
G a s k i n , R . (1990), ‘ Do Hom eric Heroes M ake Real Decisions?', C Q
40: 1—iS·
G e n t i l i , B. (1988), Poetry and its Public in Ancient Greece (Baltimore;
tr. from Poesin e pubblico nclla Grecia antica (Rome, 1985)).
G erm a in , G . ( 1 9 5 4 ) , Genese de l 'Odyssee (P a r is ) .
G ibu s, R . (1996), The Poetics of M in d (Cambridge).
G i l l , C . ( 1 9 9 0 ) (ed.), The Person and the H um a n M in d ( O x f o r d ) .
------ (1996), Personality in Greek E p ic , Tragedy, and Philosophy
(Oxford).
G z p p e r , H. (1964), 'P u rp u r', G lotta, 42: 39-69.
G l a d i c o w , B. (1968), " Z w e i frühe Zeugungsichren? Zu yóvv, y i w s
und yivos” , R h M i n : 3 5 7 -7 4 .
G n o l i , G ., and V e r n a n t , J . - P . (1982) (eds.), L a M o rt, les morls dans
les socictés anciennes (Paris and Cambridge).
 References 327
G o o dy,J . (1977), The Domestication o f the Savage M m d ( C a m ­
bridge).
------ (1987), The Interface between the Written and the O ral (Cam ­
bridge).
G o u ld , J . ( 19 7 3 ), ‘ H ikctcia’ , J U S 93: 74—10 3.
------ («985), 'O n M a k in g S e n s e o f G re ek R e lig io n ’ , in P. E asterlin g
and J . V . M u ir (eds.), Greek Religion and Society ( C a m b rid ge),
1-3 3 .
G r a f , F . (19 74), Eleusis und die orphische Dichtung Athens in vorhel-
lenistischcr Zeit (Berlin).
------ (> 9 9 3 ). Greek Mythology (Baltim ore; tr. from Griechische M ytho­
logie (Basel, 19 8 7)).
G r i f f i n , J . (1976), 'H o m e ric Pathos and O b je ctiv ity ’ , CQ 26: 1 6 1 - 8 7 .
------ (1977), ' T h e E p ic C y c le and the U n iquen ess o f H o m e r ', J I I S 97:
39 - 5 3 ·
------ (19 80), Homer on Life and Death (O xfo rd ).
------ (1986), 'H o m e ric W ord s and S p e a k e r s ’ , J I I S 106: 36—5 7 .
G u r n e y , O. R . (19 5 2), The Hittites (H a rm on d sw orth ).
H a i n s w o r t h , J . B . ( 1 9 6 8 ) , The Flexibility of the Homeric Formula
(Oxford).
------ (*993), Introduction to vol. 3 o f The I lia d ; A Commentary
(Cambridge).
H a l k b a r t , K . W . ( 1 7 9 6 ) , Psychologia Homerica ( Z u l l i c h a u ) .
H an d ley, E. W . (19 56). 'W o rd s for ''S o u l* ', " H e a r t ” and " M i n d ” in
Aristophanes', RhM 99: 2 0 5 - 2 5 .
H a r r i s o n , E. L . (i960), ‘ N otes on H o m e ric P s y c h o lo g y ’ , Phoenix , 14:
63-80.
H a v e l o c k , E. A. (19 63), Preface to Plato (O xford).
------ (1972). ' T h e Socratic S e l f as it is Parodied in A ris to p h a n e s ’
Clouds', YCS 22: 1—18.
H f a n e y , S . (1980), 'Fe elin g into W o r d s ', in id.. Preoccupations:
Selected Prose ig ó S -t g y S (L o n d o n ), 4 1 - 6 0 .
H e l r i c , K . G . (18 4 0 ), Dissertatio de v i et usu ψρό·«ϊ, θυμός similiumque
apud Homerum (Dresden).
H e r in g t o n ,J . ( 1 9 8 5 ) , Poetry into Dram a: E arly Tragedy and the
G r e e k Poetic Tradition (B erkeley and L o s A n geles)
H e r s h k o w i t z , D. ( 1 9 9 8 ) . The Madness o f Epic (O xford).
H erter , H. (1957). " Σ ώ μ α bei Homer” , in K . Schauenberg (ed.),
Chantes: Festschrift E. Langlots (Bonn), 2 0 6 - 1 7
H e u b e c k . Λ . ( , 9 6 3 ) . "IUMMEPIOI", Hennes. 9 , : 4 y o - 2 .
O972). Nochmals zur "innerhomerischen Chronologie” ’
G lotta, 50: 12 9 - 4 3 .
328 Ref e rences

H o ekstra, Λ . (196 5), Homeric Modifications of Formulaic Prototypes

(Amsterdam).
H o ije r , H . ( 1 9 5 4 ) ( e d .) . Language in Culture ( C h ic a g o ) .
H ooker, J. T . ( 1 9 8 0 ) , Ycpdy in Early Greek (.Beiträge zur Sprachwis­
senschaft, J^ortrnge und kleinere Schriften, 22 ( I n n s b r u c k ) .
------- (>987). "H om eric φ ίλος” , Glolta, 65: 4 4 - 6 5 .
I I o u s m a n , A . E . ( 1 9 3 3 ) , O n the N a m e and N a t u r e o f P o e t r y ’ (lecture
d e l i v e r e d in 1 9 3 3 a n d re p r. in Selected Prose ( C a m b r id g e , 1 9 6 1 ) ) ,
1 68-95.
H u d s o n , R . A . ( 1 9 8 0 ) , Sociolinguistics ( C a m b r id g e ) .
H u f f m a n , C . ( 1 9 9 3 ) , Philolaus of Croton ( C a m b r id g e ) .
H u g h e s , D . D . ( 1 9 9 1 ) , Human Sacrifice in Ancient Greece ( L o n d o n ) .
H u n t i n g d o n , R . , a n d M e t c a l f , P . ( 19 7 9 ) . Celebrations of Death: The
Anthropology of Mortuary Ritual ( C a m b r id g e ) .
H u x l e y , G . L . ( 1 9 5 8 ) , O d y s s e u s and the T h e s p r o t i a n O racle o f the
D ead ’, PP 13 : 245-8.
I m m e r w a h r , S . ( 1 9 9 5 ) . 'D e a t h and the T a n a g r a L a r n a k e s ’ , in C a rt e r
a n d M o r r i s ( 1 9 9 5 ) , 1 0 9 —2 2 .
I n CENKAMP, Η . G . ( 1 9 7 5 ) , ’ I n n e r e s S e l b s t u n d L e b e n s t r ä g e r : Z u r
E in h e it d e s ^«»^ij-Begriffs’ , R h M 1 1 8 : 4 8 - 6 1 .
I r e l a n d , S . , a n d S t e e l , F . L . D . ( 1 9 7 5 ) , " Φ ρ ό · ί ϊ as an A n a to m ic al
O r g a n in th e W o r k s o f H o m e r ” , Glotla, 5 3 : 1 S 3 —95.
I r w i n , E. (1974), Colour Terms in Greek Poetry (Toronto).
J a e g e r , W . ( 1 9 4 7 ) , Theology of the Early Greek Philosophers (O xfo rd ).
J a h n , T . ( 1 9 S 7 ) , Zum Wortfeld 'Seele-Geist' in der Sprache Homers
(Zetem ata, 8 3; M u n ich ).
J anko , R . ( 1 9 8 2 ) , Homer, Hesiod and the Hymns ( C a m b r id g e ) .
-------( 1 9 8 4 ) , ‘ F o r g e t f u l n e s s in the G o l d e n T a b l e t s o f M e m o r ) ·’ , CQ
2 4 : 89—10 0 .
-------( 1 9 9 2 ) , In tr o d u c tio n to vol. 4 o f The Il i a d : A Commentari’
(C am b rid ge).
-------( 1 9 9 7 ) , ‘T h e P h y s ic is t as H ie r o p h a n t ’ , Z P E x 1 S: 6 1 —94.
-------( 1 9 9 8 ) , ‘ T h e H o m e r i c P o e m s as O ra l D ic ta te d T e x t s ’ , CQ 48:
135-6 7.
J a r c h o , V . N . ( 1 9 6 8 ) , ‘Z u m M e n s c h e n b il d d e r n a c h h o m c ris c h c n
D i c h t u n g ’ , Philologus, 1 1 2 : 1 4 7 - 7 2 .
-------( 1 9 9 0 ) , ‘ D a s p o e tis c h e “ I c h " als g e s e l l s c h a f t l i c h - k o m m u n ik a ­
tiv e s S y m b o l in d e r frü h g r ie c h is c h e n L y r i k ' , in S l i n g s (19 9 0 α ),
3 *—9 ·
J o n es, D . Μ . (ΐ9 4 θ ). 'T h e Sle e p o f Philoctetes’ , CR 63: 8 3-5 .
de J ongI. F. J. (1987). Narrators and Focalizers: The Presentation of
,
the Stor\· in the Iliad (Amsterdam).
 References 329

J ouanna, J . ( 1 9 8 7 ) , ‘ L a S o u f fle , la vie ct le fro id : R e m a r q u e s s u r la

fam ilie de ψύχα> d ' H o m è r e ü H ip p o c r a t e * . R E G to o : 2 0 3 - 2 4 .
Κ α ΗΛΝΕ, Λ . (< 9 9 4 ). T h e In te rp re ta tio n o f O r d e r : A S t u d y in the
Poetics o f H o m e ric R e p etitio n ( O x fo r d ) .
K a h n , C . H . (1979), T h e A r t a n d T h o u gh t o f H e ra c litu s ( C a m b r id g e ) .
K a h l , W . ( 1 9 6 7 ) , C h a o s u n d T a rta ro s in H esiods T h eo go nie (d iss.
E rla n g e n ).
K i r k , G . S . (19 6 2 ), The Songs o f H om er (C am b rid g e).
------ ( 1 9 7 0 ) , M y t h : Its M e a n in g a n d F u n ctio n s in A n c ie n t a n d O th e r
C u ltu res ( C a m b r id g e ) .
------ ( 1 9 7 4 ) , T h e N a tu r e o f G r e e k M y th s ( H a r m o n d s w d r t h ) .
------ ( 1 9 8 5 ) , In t r o d u c t io n to v o l. t o f T h e Iliad * A C o m m en ta ry
( C a m b r id g c ) .
K i t t a y , E . F . ( 19 8 9 ) , M e t a p h o r : Its C o g n itiv e F o r c e a n d L in g u istic
S tru c tu re, 2 n d c d n . (O x fo r d ) .
K o l l e r , H . ( 1 9 5 8 ) , “ Σ ώ μ α b e i H o m e r " , G lo lt a , 3 7 : 2 7 6 —8 1 .
K i i a f f t , F . ( 1 9 6 3 ) , V ergleich en d e U n tersu ch u ngen z u H orn er u n d
H e s io d ( H y p o m n e m a t a , 6; G o t t in g e n ) .
K r a n z , W . ( 1 9 3 8 ) , ‘ G l e i c h n i s u n d V e r g l e i c h in d e r f r ü h g r i c c b i s c h e n
P h ilo s o p h ie ’ . H erm es, 7 3 : 1 1 1 —1 3 .
K r i SCMER, T . ( 1 9 8 4 ) , "iVo'oi, voctv, ν ό η μ α ” , G io tto , 6 2 : 1 4 1 —9.
K u L L M a n n , W . ( 1 9 3 6 ) , D a s W irk en d e r G ö t te r in d e r I lia s (B e r lin ) .
------ and R e i c h e r M. (19 9 0 ) (eds.), Der Übergang von der Mündlich-
heit z u r L ite r a t u r bei den G riech e n ( T ü b i n g e n ) .
L a k o f f , G . , and J o h n s o n , M . ( 1 9 8 0 ) , M e ta p h o rs I Ve L i v e D y
(C h ic a g o ).
------ and T u r n e r , M . ( f 9 8 9 ) , Λ /ore T h a n C o o l R e a s o n : A F ie ld G u id e
to P o e tic M e ta p h o r (C h ic a g o ) .
L a m d e r t o n , R . ( 1 9 8 8 ) , H esio d ( N e w H a v e n ) .
-------and K e a n e y , J . J . ( 1 9 9 2 ) (eds.), H o m e r ’s A n c ie n t R e a d e r s : T h e
H erm eneutics o f G r e e k E p ic ’s E a r lie s t E x e g e tes (P rin c e to n ).
L a n d f e s t e r , M . ( 1 9 6 6 ) , D a s griech isch e N o m en φίλος u n d seine
A b leitu n g en ( S p u d a s m a t a , 1 t ; H il d e s h e i m ) .
L a n i g , K . ( 1 9 5 3 ) , T)er h a n d e ln d e M en sch in d e r Ilia s (diss. E r l a n g e n ) .
L a t a c z , J . ( 1 9 6 5 ) . ” A N J P O T H T A ” , G lo lt a , 4 3 : 6 2 - 7 6 .
-------( 19 6 6 ) , Z u m W o rtfe ld ’F r e u d e ' in d e r S p r a c h e H o m ers ( H e i d e l ­
berg).
------ ( 1 9 6 8 ) , “ élnrepos μύθος — άτττ€ρος φ ά τις: U n g c f l ü g c l l c W o r t e ? ”
G lo lt a , 46: 2 7 - 4 7 .
------ ( * 9 7 7 ) . K a m p fp a rcin ese , K a m p fd a rs te llu n g u n d K a m p fw ir k lic h k e it
in d e r I lia s , b ei K a llin o s u n d T y rta io s (Ze te m atii, 6 6; M u n ic h ) .
------ ( 1 9 8 4 ) , ‘ D a s M e n s c h e n b il d H o m ers* , G y m n a siu m , 9 1 : 1 5 —39.
33 ° References
L efko W i t z , Μ . ( 19 6 9 ), ‘ B a c c h y lid c s ’ O d e 5: Im ita tio n and O rig in ­
ality’ , HSCPh 7 3 : 4 5—96.
------ ( · 9 9 ΐ ) , First-Person Fictions: Pindar's Poetic ' / ’ (O x fo rd ).
L e s k y , A . ( 1 9 5 ° ) . review o f second edition o f B . S n e ll, Die Ent­
deckung des Geistes, Gnomon, 2 2: 97—106.
------- ( 1 9 6 1 ) , Göttliche und menschliche Motivation im homerischen Epos
( S / f / l I I 7 1 9 6 1 , A b h . 4; H eid e lb e rg ).
------ ( 1 9 6 7 ) , Homeros (Stuttgart).
-------( * 9 S S). ‘ G r u n d z ü g e grie ch isc h en R e c h t s d e n k e n s ’ , ΓΡ5 19 : 5 - 4 ° .
L é t o u b l o n , F . ( 1 9 8 3 ) , ‘ D éfï et c o m b a t d ans VIliade', REG 96: 2 7 -4 8 .
L e u m a n n , M . ( 1 9 5 0 ) , Homerische Wörter (Basic).
L èv y-B ru h l, L . ( 1 9 1 8 ) , Lcs Fonctions mentales dans les sociétés
infirieures, 3 rd cdn. (Paris).
------ ( 1 93 >), La Mentali té primitive (O x fo rd ).
------ ( · 9 4 9 ) . Les Carnets de Luden Lévy-Druhl (Paris).
------ ( ' 9 5 2 )t 'L e t t e r to E . E . E v a n s - P r it c h n r d ', British Journal of
Sociology, 3 : 1 1 7 - 2 3 .
------ ( 1 9 6 3 [ 1 9 2 7 ] ) , L ’Ame primitive (orig. p u b . P a ris , 1 9 2 7 ; cited
fro m reissued text (P aris, 1 9 6 3 ) ) .
L ien ’ HARDt , G . ( 1 9 6 1 ) , Divinity and Experience: The Religion of the
Dinka (O x fo rd ).
-------( 19 6 6 ) , Social Anthropology, 2 n d c d n. (O x fo rd ).
L l o y d , G . E . R . ( 19 6 6 ) , Polarity and Analogy: Ttvo Types of
Argumentation in Early Greek Thought (C a m b rid g e ).
-------( ' 9 7 5 )« ‘ G r e e k C o s m o lo g i e s ’ , in B la c k e r and L o e w c ( 1 9 7 5 ) , 1 9 S -
244.
-------( 1 9 8 7 ) , The Revolutions of Wisdom: Studies in the Claims and
Practice of Greek Science ( B e r k e le y and L o s A ngeles).
-------( 19 9 0 ) , Demystifying Mentalities ( C a m b rid g e ).
L l o y d - J o n e s , H . ( 1 9 7 1 ) , The Justice of Zeus (B erk e ley and L o s
A n ge les).
------ (« 9 8 s ), ’ P in d a r and the A f t e r l i f e ’ , in Pindare ( E n lre tie n s H ardt,
3 1 ; G eneva), 2 45-79 .
-------( 19 8 9 ) , ‘ P in d a r and the A ft e rlife : A d d e n d u m (19 8 9 ) ’ , in G reek
Epic, Lyric and Tragedy: The Academic Papers of Sir Hugh Lloyd­
Jones ( O x fo rd ).
L o c h e r , J . T . ( 1 9 6 3 ) , Untersuchungen zu lepos, hauptsächlich hei
Homer (B ern ).
L o c h h a r d t , P . N . (19 6 6 ), "φρονεΐν in H o m e r ” , CPh 6 1 : 9 9 - 1 0 2 .
L o r d , A . B. ( i9 6 0 ) , The Singer of Tales (C a m b r id g e , M a ss .).
L oretz, O . ( 1 9 9 3 ) , ‘ N e k r o m a n t ie und T o t e n e v o k a tio n in M e s o p o t a -
m ie , U g a r i t u n d Is ra e l', in B. J a n o w s k i et al. (eds.), Religions­
geschichtliche Beziehungen ( F r e i b u r g ) , 2 8 5 —3 1 8 .
 References 331
L o v in o N D , S, (1991). ‘ P la t o 's T h e o r y o f M ind', in E v e r s o n (199 1).
35 - 5 5 ·
L ynn e o r g e , M . (1978 ), ‘T h e
-G R e la t io n s h ip o f Σ 5 3 5 —4 0 and
Scu tu m 1 5 6 - 6 0 r e - e x a m i n e d ', H erm es, 10 6 : 3 9 6 —4 0 5 .
M c C a r t h y , M . ( 1 9 5 7 ) , M em o ries o f a C a th o lic G ir lh o o d ( L o n d o n ) .
M a c C a u y , VV. T . ( 1 9 8 2 ) , C h ild lik e A c h ille s : O n to g en y a n d P h y to g e n y
in the Iliad ( N e w Y o r k ) ,
M c G i n u o N , D . ( 1 9 6 4 ) , ‘ M e t e m p s y c h o s i s in P i n d a r ’ , P h ro n esis, 9: 5—
I I.
M cK i n l a y , A . P. ( 1 9 5 7 ) , " O n the W a y S c h o l a r s I n te r p r e t α μα υρό s " ,
A C 26: 1 2 - 3 9 . y
M c M a n n e i i s , J . ( 1 9 S 1 ) , D ea th a n d the E n ligh ten m en t ( O x fo rd ).
M a r c o v i c h , M . ( 1 9 6 7 ) , H era c litu s ( M e r i d a ) .
M a r g , W . ( 1 9 3 8 ) , D e r C h a r a k t e r in d e r S p r a c h e d e r frü h g riec h isc h en
D ichtun g (W ü r z b u rg ).
------ ( 1 9 4 2 ) , ' K a m p f und T o d in d e r I l i a s ', D ie A n t ik e , 1 8 : 1 6 7 ^ 7 9 .
------ ( * 9 5 7 ). H o m er über d ie D ic h tu n g ( M ü n s t e r ) .
M a r t i n , R . P. (19 8 9 ), T h e L a n g u a g e o f H e r o e s : S p e e c h a n d P e r fo r m ­
ance in the Iliad (Ith a c a , N Y ) .
M e r k e l b a c h , R . ( 1 9 5 1 ) , U ntersu ch u ngen z u r O dyssee ( Z e t e m a t a , 2;
M u n ic h ) .
------ ( * 9 7 5 ), ‘ N a c h t rä g e z u r A r c h i l o c h u s ' , Z P E 1 6 : 2 2 0 - 2 .
------ and W e s t , M . L . ( 1 9 7 4 ) , ‘ E i n A r c h i l o c h u s - P a p y r u s ' , Z P E 14 :
9 7 -113·
M e u l i , K . ( 1 9 3 5 ) , ‘ S c y t h i c a ’ , H erm es, 70 : 1 2 1 —7 6 .
M o n d i , R . ( 1 9 8 6 ) , ‘Tradition and Invention in the I lesiodic Titano-
m a c h y ', T A P h A 1 1 6 : 2 5 - 4 8 .
------ (19 9 0 ), ' G r e e k M y t h i c T h o u g h t in the L i g h t o f the N e a r E a s t ’ ,
in E d m u n d s ( 19 9 0 ) , 1 4 1 —98.
M o r e u x , 0 . ( 19 6 7 ) , ' L a N u it , 1‘ o m b r e et la m o r t c h e z H o m è r c ’ ,
P hoenix, 2 1 : 2 3 7 - 7 2 .
M o r r i s , I. ( 19 8 7 ) , B u r ia l a n d A n c ie n t S o c ie t y ( C a m b r i d g e ) .
(« 992). D e a th -R it u a l a n d S o c ia l S t r u c t u r e in C la s s ic a l A n t iq u it y
( C a m b rid g e ).
M C . ( 1 9 7 7 ) , S im ile s in the H o m e ric P o em s (Hypomnemata,
o u lto n ,
49; Göttingen).
------ (« 9 7 9 ). ‘ H o m e r ic Metaphor’ , C P h 7 4 : 2 7 9 - 9 3
M u e l l e r , M . («984), T h e Iliad ( L o n d o n ) . '
v o n d e r M ü h l l . P. ( . 9 3 8 ) , ’ Z u r E r f i n d u n g in d e r N e k y i a d es
O d y s s e e * , P h ilo lo g u s, 9 3 · 3 “"* I.
M u r r a y , P . ( 1 9 8 1 ) , ’ P o e t ic I n s p ir a t io n in E a r l y G r e e c e ’ , J f H S ι ο ί :
Ö7-IOO.
332 References
M ylo n as, G . E . ( 1 9 4 8 ) , ‘ H o m e r ic a n d M y c e n a e a n B u ria l C u s t o m s ’ ,
A JA 52: 5 6 -8 1.
N a g l e r , M . N . ( 1 9 6 7 ) , ‘ T o w a r d s a G en era tiv c V i e w o f the H o m e r ic
F o r m u l a ' , T A P h A 98: 269—3 1 1 .
-------(> 9 7 4 ). S p o n ta n e ity a n d T r a d itio n : A S t u d y in the O ra l A r t o f
H o m e r ( B e r k e l e y and L o s A n g e le s ).
N a g y , G . ( 1 9 7 9 ) . T h e B e st o f the A c h a e a m (Balti m o re ).
-------(> 9 8 3 ), ‘ O n the D e a th o f S a r p e d o n ’ , in C . A . R u b i n o and C . \V.
S h e l m c r d i n c (eds.). A p p roa ch es to H o m er (A u stin ), 1 8 9 - 2 1 7 .
-------( 1 9 9 0 η ) , G r e e k M y th o lo g y a n d P oetics (Ith aca, N Y ) .
------- (19 9 0 6 ), P in d a r ’s H o m er (B altim o re ).
-------( 1 9 9 0 c ) , ‘ D e a th o f a S c h o o l b o y : T h e E a r ly G r e e k B e g in n in g s o f a
C r i s i s in P h i l o l o g y ’ , in J . Z io lk o w s k i (ed.). On P h ilo lo g y ( U n iv e r s ity
P a r k , P a .) , 3 7 - 4 8 ·
-------( 1 9 9 2 η ) , ‘ M y th o lo g ic a l E x e m p l u m in H o m e r ', in R . I l c x t c r nnd
D . S e i d e n (eds.), In n o va tio n s o f A n tiq u ity ( N e w Y o r k ) . 3 1 1 —3 1 .
-------( 19 9 2 6 ) , ‘ H o m e r ic Q u e s t io n s', T A P h A 1 2 2 : 1 7 - 6 0 .
-------( 1 9 9 6 ) , H o m eric Questions (A u s tin , T e x . ) .
N a l d a n t i a n S . ( 1 9 7 7 ) , T h e S y m b o l o f the S o u l fro m H ö ld erlin to
Y e a t s : A S t u d y in M eto n y m y (L o n d o n ).
N e h r i n c , A . ( 1 9 4 7 ) , ‘ H o m e r 's D e s crip tio n o f S y n c o p e s ’ , C P h 42:
10 6 -21.
N i c k a u , K . ( 1 9 7 7 ) , U ntersuchungen z u r textkritischen M eth o d e des
Z cno do to s v o n Ephesos (Berlin).
N i e n s , C . ( 1 9 8 7 ) , S t r u k t u r u n d D y n a m ik in den K a m p fsz en en d e r Ilia s
( H e id e lb e r g ) .
N i k i t a s , A . A . ( 1 9 7 8 ) , ‘ B e m e r k u n g e n z u m L e x i k o n des L i d d c l l -
S c o t t - J o n e s ' , W J A 4: 7 5 - 9 0 .
N i l s s o n , Μ . P. ( 1 9 4 1 ) , ‘T h e Im m o rta lity o f the S o u l in G r e e k
R e l i g i o n ', E ra n o s, 39: i —16 .
-------( 1 9 6 7 ) , G esch ich te d e r griechischen R eligio n , i, 3 r d cdn. (M u n ic h ).
N i s e t i c h , F . J . (19 8 9 ) , P in d a r a n d H om er (B altim ore ).
N o c k . A . D . ( 1 9 7 2 ) , 'C r e m a t io n and B u ria l in the R o m a n E m p i r e ’ , in
Z . S t e w a r t (ed.), E ssays on R elig io n a n d the A n cien t W orld (O x fo rd ),
277-307· _ _
N othdurft, W . ( 1 9 7 8 ) , 'N o c h einm al sreCpai/ntlpara bei H o m e r ',
G lo tta , 56 : 2 5 - 4 0 .
N o t o p o u l o s , J . ( 19 4 9 ) , ‘ P a rataxis in H o m e r ’ , T A P h A 80: 1 - 2 3 .
N ussnAUM , A . ( 19 8 6 ) , H e a d a n d H o m in In d o -E u ro p e a n (B erlin).
N u s s b a u m , M . C . ( 1 9 7 2 ) , "ψ υ χ ή in H e r a c l it u s " , Phronesis, 17 : 1 - 1 6 ,
1 53-70·
O n i a n s , R . B . ( 1 9 5 1 ) , T h e O rigins o f E u ro p ea n Thought about the
B o d y , the M in d , the S o u l, the U 'o rld , T im e a n d P a te ( C a m b rid g e ).
 References 333

O ' N o l a n . K . ( « 9 7 8 ) , ' D o u b l e t s in the O d yssey ’ , C Q 2 8 : 2 3 - 7 .

O t t e n , H . ( 1 9 5 8 ) . H eth itisch e T o ten ritu a le (Derlin).
Ο π ό , VV. F . ( 1 9 2 3 ) , D ie M a n e n , o d er vo n d en U rfo rm en des T o ten ­
glaubens, 2 n d e dn . (cited fro m n e w c d n . ( D a r m s t a d t , 1 9 5 8 ) ) .
P a d e l , R- ( 1 9 9 2 ) . In a n d O ut o f the M in d : G r e e k Im ages o f the T ra g ic
S e l f (P rinceton).
P a c e , D . L . ( 1 9 5 5 ) . T h e H o m eric O d y s s e y (O x fo r d ) .
------ (« 9 5 f>). S a p p h o a n d A lc a e u s (O x fo rd ).
P a cliar o , A . (19 5 6 ), 'II p r o c m io d e l l ' I lia d e ', in N u o v i S a g g i d i
Critica Semantica (Florence), 3-46.
P a r a sk ev a id es, H . A . ( 1 9 8 4 ) . T h e U se o f S y n o n y jn s in H o m eric
F o rm u la ic D ictio n ( A m s t e r d a m ) .
P a r k e r , R . ( 1 9 8 3 ) , M ia s m a : P o llu tio n a n d P u rific a tio n in E a r ly G r e e k
R eligio n (O x fo rd ).
P a r r y , A . ( 1 9 5 6 ) , ‘ T h e L a n g u a g e o f A c h i l l e s ’ , T A P h A 8 7 : 1 —7.
P a r r y , A . A . ( 1 9 7 3 ) . B la m eless A eg isth u s (M n e m o sy n e , S u p p l . 26;
L e id en ).
P a r r y , M . ( 1 9 7 1 [ 1 9 2 S J ) , ' T h e T r a d it io n a l E p i t h e t in H o m e r ’ (orig.
pub. as L ’E p it h it c tra d itio n e lle dans H o m ere ( 1 9 2 8 ) ; c it e d f r o m
M . P a rr y ( 1 9 7 * ( b e l o w ) ) , 1 - 1 9 0 ) .
------ ( 1 9 7 1 ( 1 9 3 3 ) ) , ‘ T h e T r a d it io n a l M e t a p h o r in H o m e r ’ (o r ig . p u b .
1 9 3 3 ; c ited fro m M . P a r r y ( 1 9 7 1 ( b e l o w ) ) , 3 6 5 - 7 5 ) .
------ ( * 9 7 · [ * 9 3 7 ] ) . ‘A b o u t W in g e d W o r d s ’ (o rig . p u b . J 9 3 7 ; cited
from M . P a r r y ( 1 9 7 1 ( b e l o w ) ) , 4 1 4 —1 7 .
------ ( * 9 7 * ). T h e M a k in g o j H om eric P e rs e c o lle c te d p a p e r s , ed.
A. P a r r y ( O x fo rd ).
P a t z e k , B . ( 1 9 9 2 ) , H o m e r u n d M y k e n e : M ü n d lic h e D ich tu n g u n d
Geschichtsschreibung ( M u n ic h ) .
pEl-LICCl a , H . ( 1 9 9 5 ) , M in d , B o d y a n d S p e ec h in H o m e r a n d P in d a r
( H y p o m n e m a t a , 1 0 7 ; G ö tt in g e n ) .
P e n n , J . M . ( 1 9 7 2 ) , L in g u istic R e la t iv it y versus In n a te Id e a s ( T h e
I lague).
P e r r y , B . E . ( 1 9 3 7 ) , ‘T h e E a r l y G r e e k C a p a c it y for V i e w i n g T h i n g s
S e p a r a t e l y ’ , T A P h A 68: 4 0 3 - 2 7 .
P e t z l , G . ( 1 9 6 9 ) , A n t ik e D iskussionen über d ie beiden N e / ty ia i ( B e it ­
räge z u r klassischen P h ilo lo g ie , 2 9 ; M c is e n h e im ) .
P lN K E R , S . ( 1 9 9 4 ) , T h e L a n g u a g e In stin ct ( M a r m o n d s w o r t h ) .
PoiiLMANN, E . ( 19 9 0 ) , ‘ Z u r Ü b e r l ie f e r u n g g r ie c h is c h e r L it e r a t u r v o m
8. bis z u m 4. J h . ‘ , in K u l l m a n n and R e ic h e l ( 19 9 0 ) , 1 1 —3 1 .
P o r t e r , J . 1 . ( 1 9 9 2 ) , ‘ H e r m e n e u t ic L i n e s and C ir c le s : A r i s t a r c h u s
and C r a t e s on the E x e g e s is o f H o m e r ’ , in L a m b e r t o n a n d K e a n e y
( 1 9 9 2 ) , 6 7 - 1 14 .
P ö t s c h e r , W . ( 19 5 9 11). ' A r c s ’ , G ym n asiu m , 66: 5 - 1 4 .
334 References
R u t s c h e r , W . (19 5 9 b ) , ‘ D a s P e r s o n - B c r c i c h d c n k e n in d e r f riilig ric -
c h is c h c n P e r i o d e ', I P S 7 2 : 5—2 5 .
------ ( i9 6 0 ) , ‘ M o i r a , T h e m i s u n d r«/17 im h o m e r is c h e n D e n k e n ', I P S
7 3 '· S - 3 9
-------(19^5). 'D ic "Auferstehung" in der klassischen Antike’ , K a ir o s ,
7: 2 0 8 -15 .
-------(«978), 'Person-Bcrcichdcnken und Personifikation', L it e r a t u r ­
w issen sch aftlich es J a h r b u c h , 19 : 2 1 7 - 3 2 .
P u l l e y n , S . ( 1 9 9 7 ) , P r a y e r in G r e e k R e lig io n ( O x fo r d ) .
Pui-i.UM, G . K . ( 1 9 9 1 ) , T h e G r e a t E sk im o V o c a b u la ry H o a x a n d other
Ir r e v e r e n t E ssa y s on the H is to ry o f L a n g u a g e (C h ic a g o ).
R a h n , H . ( 1 9 5 3 ) , ‘ T i e r u n d M e n s c h in d e r h o m e r is c h e n A u f fa s s u n g
d e r W ir k l i c h k e i t ', P a id e u m a , 5: 2 7 7 —9 7 , 4 3 1 —80.
R a m k o u x , C . ( 1 9 5 9 ) , L a N u it et les enfants d e la nuit (P a ris).
R a n k , O . ( 1 9 7 1 ) , T h e D o u b le : A P sy c h o a n a ly tic S t u d y , w i t h introd.
and notes by H. Tucker (Chapel Hill, N C ; tr. from D e r D o p p e l­
gänger ( 1 9 1 4 ) ) .
R e o u y , M . J . ( 1 9 9 3 ) , ‘ T h e C o n d u i t M e t a p h o r ’ , in A . O r t o n y (ed.).
M e t a p h o r a n d T h o u g h t, 2 n d c d n . ( C a m b r i d g e ) , 1 6 4 —2 0 1 .
R e d f i e l d , J . M . ( 1 9 7 5 ) , N a t u r e a n d C u ltu r e in the I l i a d ; T h e T ra g e d y
o f H e c to r (C h ic a g o ) .
-------(« 9 7 9 ). ‘T h e P r o e m o f the I l i a d : H o m e r 's A r t ’ , C P h 74: 9 5 - 1 1 0 .
R e e v e , M . D . ( 1 9 7 3 ) , ‘ T h e L a n g u a g e o f A c h i l l e s ', C Q 2 3 ; 1 9 3 - 5 .
REGENBOGEN, O . ( 1 9 4 8 ) , "Δ α ιμ ό ν ιο ν ψ υχής φ ώ ς: E r w i n R o h d e s P s y c h e
u n d d ie n e u e re K r i t i k " (o rig . p u b . 1 9 4 8 ; c ited f r o m R e g e n b o g e n ,
K le in e S c h r ift e n ( M u n i c h , 1 9 6 1 ) ) , 1 - 2 8 .
R e i c h l e r - B é g u e l i n , M .-J. ( 1 9 9 1 ) , ‘ M o t i v a t i o n et re m o tiv a tio n d e s
s ig n e s l i n g u i s t i q u e s ', R P h 6 5 : 9 - 3 0 .
R e i n h a r d t , K . ( 1 9 4 8 ) , ‘ D i e A b e n t e u e r d e r O d y s s e e ’ , in h is V o n
W erk en u n d F o r m e n ( G o d e s b e r g ) , 5 2 —1 6 1 .
------- ( i 9 6 0 ) , ‘ P e r s o n ifik a tio n u n d A l l e g o r i e ’ , in his V erm ächtnis d e r
A n t ik e ( G ö t t i n g e n ) , 7 - 4 0 .
R e n e h a n , R . ( 1 9 7 5 ) , G r e e k L e x ic o g r a p h ic a l N o tes ( H y p o m n e m a t a , 4 5 :
G ö ttin gen ).
------- ( 1 9 7 9 ) , ‘T h e M e a n i n g o f σ ώ μα in H o m e r ’ , C S C A 1 2 : 2 6 9 - 8 2 .
R i s c h , E . ( 1 9 7 4 ) , W o rtb ild u n g d e r hom erischen S p r a c h e , 2 n d e d n .
(B e r lin ).
R l X , H . ( 1 9 6 5 ) , “ H o m e r i s c h optupcrai u n d die V e r b e n δρνυμι und
o p lv w ", I F 7 0 : 2 5 —4 9.
R o b b , K . ( 1 9 9 4 ) , L it e r a c y a n d P a id e ia in A n c ie n t G reece ( O x f o r d ) .
R o u e b t s o n , D . S . ( 1 9 4 0 ) , ‘T h e F l i g h t o f P h r i x u s ’ , C R 5 4 : t - 8 .
R o b e r t s o n , N . ( 1 9 8 0 ) , ‘ H e r a c l e s ’ k a ta b a s is ', Ile r m e s , 1 0 8 : 2 7 4 - 3 0 0 .
R o b i n s o n , D . ( 1 9 9 0 ) , ‘ H o m e r i c φ ίλος: L o v e o f L i f e and L i m b s , and
 References 335
F r i e n d s h i p w ith O n e ’s θ υ μ ό ς', in E . M . C r a i k (e d .). 'O w ls to A t h e n s ’
(O xfo rd), 9 7 - 1 0 8 .
R o d i n s o n , L . ( 1 9 2 7 ) (cd .), T h e G o ld e n T r e a s u r y o f I r is h V erse
(Lon don).
R o b i n s o n , T . M . ( 1 9 7 0 ) , Plato’s Psychology ( T o r o n t o ) .
R o h d e , E . ( 1 9 2 5 ) , Psyche ( L o n d o n ; tr. f r o m 9th G e r . e d n . o f w o r k
orig. ptib. 1893).
R o u x , G . ( i 9 6 0 ) , “ Q u ’c s t- c e q u e un κολοσσό??” , R E A 6 2 : 5—40.
R o w e , C . J . ( 1 9 8 3 ) , * " A r c h a i c T h o u g h t " in H e s i o d ', J H S 1 0 3 : 1 2 4 —
3 5 ·
R uesche, F . ( 1 9 3 0 ) , B lu t , L e b e n u n d S e e le ( P a d e r b o r n ) ^
R u i j g h , C . J . ( 1 9 5 7 ) , L 'E lem en t ach cen d an s la la n g u e èp iq u e ( A s s e n ) .
------ ( * 9 7 · ) . A u tour d e r t epiqu e ( A m s t e r d a m ) .
R u s s o , J . , a n d S i m o n , B . ( 1 9 7 8 ) , ' H o m e r i c P s y c h o l o g y a n d the O r a l
E p i c T r a d i t i o n ’ , in J . W r i g h t (ed.), E s s a y s on the Ili a d ( B l o o m i n g ­
ton, In d .), 4 1 - 5 7 .
DE R u y t , F . ( 1 9 3 2 ) , ' L e T h a n a t o s d ' E u r i p i d c e t le C h a r u n ê t r u s q u c ',
A C 1: 6 1 - 7 7 .
R y l e , G . ( 1 9 4 9 ) , T h e C o n cep t o f M in d ( L o n d o n ) .
S a c k s , R . (19 8 7 ), T h e T r a d itio n a l P h ra s e in H o m e r (L e id e n ).
S a n s o n e , D . ( 1 9 7 5 ) , A e s c h y le a n M e ta p h o r s f o r I n t e lle c t u a l A c t i v i t y
(H erm es E in z e l s c h r i ft e n , 3 5 ; W ie s b a d e n ) .
S A r iR , E . ( 1 9 2 1 ) , L a n g u a g e ( O x f o r d ) .
S c h a d e w a l d t , W . (19 6 5 ), V o n H o m ers I Veit u n d W e rk , 4th ed n .
(Stuttgart).
S c h m i t t , A . ( 1 9 9 0 ) S e lb s tä n d ig k e it u n d A b h ä n g ig k e it m en sch lich en
H a n d eln s b ei H o m e r ( A b h . d e r g e is te s - u . s o z ia l w i s s . K l a s s e , 1 9 9 0 .
5; M a in z ).
S c h m i t t , R . (19 6 7 ), D ic h tu n g u n d D ic h te rsp ra c h e in in d o g erm a n isc h e r
Z e it (Wiesbaden).
-------( 1 9 6 8 ) (ed.). In d o g e rm a n isch e D ic h le r s p r a c h e ( D a r m s t a d t ) .
S c h n a p p - G o u r b e i l l o n , A . ( 1 9 8 2 ) , ' L e s F u n ê r a i l l e s d e P a t r o c l e ’ , in
G n o li and V ernant (19 8 2 ), 7 7 - 8 8 .
S c h n a u f e r , A . ( 1 9 7 0 ) , F rü h g rie c h is c h e r T o te n g la u b e : U n tersu ch u n g en
zum Totcnglauben d e r m yk en isch en u n d h o m erisch en Z e it ( S p u d a s -
m ata, 2 0 ; H il d e s h e i m ) .
S c h o e c k , G . ( 1 9 6 1 ) , I lia s u n d A e t h io p is ( Z u r i c h ) .
S c h o f i e l d , Μ . ( 1 9 9 1 ) . ' H e r a c l i t u s ’ T h e o r y o f S o u l a n d its A n t e ­
c e d e n t s ', in E v e r s o n ( 1 9 9 1 ) , 1 3 - 3 4 .
S chrader W . ( 1 8 8 5 ) , ‘ D i e P s y c h o l o g i e d e s ä l t e s te n g r ie c h is c h e n
E p o s , Ja h r b ü c h e r f ü r classische P h ilo lo g ie , 3 1 : 1 4 5 - 7 6
S c h r e t t e k , Μ . K . ( , 9 7 4 ) , A lt e r O rie n t u n d H e lla s (B e it r ä g e z u r
K u ltu rw is s en s c h a ft, S o n d e r h e f t 3 3 ; I n n s b r u c k )
33^ References
S c h u l z e , W . ( 1 8 9 2 ) , Q uaestiones epicae ( G ü t e r s lo w ) .
S c m V A B L , Η . ( 1 9 5 4 ) , ‘ Zur Selbständigkeit des Menschen bei Homer’
I F S 6 7 : 4 6 —6 4 .
( * 9 5 5 )· ‘Zur Theogonie des Hesiod’ , G ym n asiu m , 6 2: 5 2 6 —42.
-------( 1 9 9 0 ) , ‘ W a s lehrt m ü n d l ic h e E p i k fü r H o m e r ? ’ , in K u llm n n n
nnd R e ic h e l ( 1 9 9 0 ) , 6 5 —1 1 0 .
S c u l l y , S . ( 1 9 8 4 ) , ‘The Language of Achilles: The Ο Χ Θ Η Σ Α Σ
Formulas', T A P h A 1 1 4 : 1 1 —2 7 .
S e a fo r d , R . ( 1 9 9 4 ) , R e c ip r o c ity a n d R it u a l: H o m er a n d T ra g e d y in the
D e v e lo p in g C ity -s ta te (O x fo rd ).
S e e l , O . ( 1 9 5 3 ) , ' Z u r V o r g e s c h i c h t e des G e W issens-B egriffes im
a ltg r ie c h isc h e n D e n k e n ’ , in F estsch rift F . D n m s c ifJ (L e ip z ig ),
29 1-319 .
SEGAL, C . ( 1 9 7 1 ) , T h e T hem e o f the M u tila tio n o f the C o rp se in the
Iliad (M n em o sy n e S u p p l . 1 7 ; L e id e n ).
S h a RPLES, R . W . ( 1 9 8 3 ) , 'B u t w h y has m y s p irit s p o k e n to m e th us?’ ,
G & R 30: 1 - 7 .
SlH LER, A . S . ( 1 9 9 5 ) , N e iv C o m p a ra tiv e G ra m m a r o f C r e e k a n d L a tin
(O x fo r d ) .
S i l k , M . ( 1 9 7 4 ) , In te ra ctio n in P o etic Im a g e ry ( C a m b rid g e ).
------ ( 1 9 S 3 ) , ‘ L S J a n d the P r o b l e m o f P o etic A rc h a is m : F r o m M e a n ­
in g s to I c o n y m s ', C Q 3 3 : 3 0 3 - 3 0 .
S imon', B . (19 7 S ), M in d a n d M ad n ess in A n cien t G re e c e : T h e C la ssica l
R o ots o f M m le rn P s y c h ia tr y (Ith ac a , N Y ) .
S U N O S , S . R . ( 1 9 7 5 ) , ‘ T h r e e N o t e s o n the N e w A rc h ilo c h u s P a p y r u s ’ ,
7. P E 18 : 17 0 .
-------( 1 9 9 0 η ) (ed.). T h e P o e t's ' I ’ in A r c h a ic G re ek L y r ic (A m s t e r d a m ).
-------( 19 9 0 6 ), ' T h e I in P e rs o n a l A r c h a ic L y r i c ’ , in S l i n g s (19 9 0 η ), i -
30-
S n e l l , B. ( 1 9 5 2 ) , D e r A u flra u d e r S p r a c h e (H a m b u r g ).
-------( ' 9 5 3 ). T h e D isc o v e ry o f the M in d (Oxford; 1 9 5 3 ; tr. from D ie
E n td e ck u n g des G eistes, 2nd e d n . (G ö tt in g e n , 19 4 8 ) ) .
-------( 1 9 5 4 ) , ‘ D ie W e lt d e r G ö t t e r bei I l c s i o d ' , in L a N o tio n du d iv in
depuis H o m ere ju stjti'ä P la to n (E n tr c tic n s H a r d t , 1; G e n e v a ) , 9 7 ­
12 6 .
-------( 19 6 9 ) , T y rta io s u n d d ie S p r a c h e des E p os ( H y p o m n e m a t a , 2 2;
G ö tt in g e n ) .
------- (19 7 5 ). D ie E n td e ck u n g des G eistes, 4th edn. (Göttingen).
-------( 1 9 7 S ) , “ φρήης/φρΰin/otf", in his D e r I Weg sum D en k en u n d z u r
W ah rh eit (1 ly p o m n e m a t a , 57; G ö tt in g e n ). 5 3 - 9 0 .
S n o d g r a s s , A . M . ( 1 9 8 2 ) , ' L e s O rig in e s d u culte d es h éros d a n s la
G r ê c c a n t i q u e ’ , in G n o l i and V c r n a n t ( 1 9 8 2 ) , 1 0 7 - 2 0 .
S 0 1 .M S E N , F . ( 1 9 6 5 ) , 'I l ia s Σ 5 3 5 - 4 0 ’ , H en n es, 93: 1 - 6 .
 References 337

------ ( 1 9 7 0 ) , ‘ S y m p h y t o s Λ ion ( A . A g . 10 6 ) , A J P l i 10 0 : 4 7 7 - 9 .
S o u r v i n -OU-I n w o o d , C . ( 1 9 8 7 ) . ' M y t h ns H i s t o r y : T h e P r e v i o u s
O w n e r s o f the D e l p h i c O rn c le '. in B r e m m e r ( 1 9 8 7 ) . 2 ΐ 5 ~ 4 »-
-------( i 9 9 i ) . "R e n d in g ’ G r e e k C u ltu r e (O x fo r d ) .
------ ( 1 9 9 5 ) , ’R e n d in g ’ G r e e k D en til (O x fo r d ) .
S p e n c e r , A . J . ( 1 9 8 2 ) , D en th in A n c ie n t E g y p t (H arm on d sw o rth ).
S t a l l m a c h , J . (19 6 8 ). A t e : F r a g e des S e lb s t - u n d W ellverstän d n isses
des fn ilig rie ch isch e n M en sch en ( B e itr ü g e z u r klassisch en P h ilo lo g ie ,
18 ; M eisenheim ).
S ta n to r d , W . B. (19 3 6 ), G reek M eta p h o r (O xfo rd ).
S t e i n e r , G . ( 1 9 7 1 ) , ‘ D ie U n t e r w e l t s - B e s c h w ö r u n g d e r / i d y s s e e im
L ic h t e h c th itis c h e r T e x t e ' , Ugaril-Forschungen, 3 : 2 6 5 —8 3.
S t e r n , J . ( 1 9 6 7 ) , " T h e I m a g e r y o f B a c c h y l id e s ' Otic 5 ', G R R S 8: 3 5 —
43· ,
S t i n t o n , 'F . C . W . ( 1 9 9 ° ) . ' T h e A p o t h e o s i s o f H e r a c l e s f r o m the
P y r e ’ , in his C o lle c te d P a p e r s on G r e e k T r a g e d y ( O x f o r d ) , 4 9 3 —5 0 7 .
S t o k e s , M . C . ( 1 9 6 2 - 3 ) , ‘ H e s io d ic a n d M i l e s i a n C o s m o g o n i e s ’ ,
Phronesis, 7 ( 1 9 6 2 ) , «—3 7 ; 8 ( 1 9 6 3 ) , 1 —3 4 ·
T a p l in , O . (19 9 2 ), H o m eric S o u n d in g s ( O x fo r d ) .
T a v i .o r , C . ( 1 9 S 9 ) , S o u rces o f the S e l f : T h e M a k in g o f the M o d e r n
Id e n tity ( C a m b r id g e ) .
T h a l m a n n , \V. G . ( 1 9 8 4 ) , C o n ven tio n s o f F o rm a n d T h o u gh t in E a r l y
G re ek E p ic P o e try (B a lt im o re ).
T h ie m e , P. ( 1 9 6 8 ) , ' H a d e s ’ , in R . S c h m i t t ( 1 9 6 8 ) , 1 3 3 - 5 3 .
T h o m a s , R . ( 1 9 9 2 ) , L it e r a c y a n d O r a lit y in A n c ie n t G re e c e ( C a m ­
b rid ge).
T h o m so n , J . A . K . ( 1 9 3 6 ) , ’ W in g e d W o r d s ' , C Q 30: 1 —3.
T h o rn to n , A . ( 1 9 7 0 ) , P e o p le a n d T h em es in H o m e r's O d y s s e y
(London).
T ic h y , E . ( 1 9 8 t ) , ' H o m . άν&ροτήτα u n d die V o r g e s c h i c h t e d e s
d a k ty lisch e n H e x a m e t e r s ’ , G lo tta , 59 : 2 8 - 6 7 .
TlLLYARD, E . M . W . ( 1 9 4 3 ) , T h e E liz a b e th a n W o rld P ic tu re
(London).
T u i e r , J . ( 1 9 3 1 ) , D e r deutsche U 'o rtsch a ts im S in n b e z ir k des P u ­
st m ules: die G esch ich te eines sp rach lich en F e ld s ( H e i d e l b e r g ) .
TsAOARAKIs, O. ( i 9 7 7 ) , S e lf-e x p r e s s io n in E a r ly G r e e k L y r ic , la m b ic
a n d E le g ia c P o e tr y ( P a lin g e n e s ia , 1 1 ; W ie s b a d e n ) .
------ ( 1 9 8 2 ) , F o rm a n d C o n ten t in H o m er ( H erm es E in z e l s c h r i ft c n , 46;
W ie sb a d en ).
T s a n t s AN ooLou, K . ( 1 9 9 7 ) , ' T h e F ir s t C o l u m n s o f the D c r v e n i
P a p y r u s ', in G . M o s t and A . L a k s (e d s.). S tu d ie s on the D e r v e n i
P ap yru s (O xfo rd ), 9 3 - 1 2 8 .
T u r n e r , M . ( 19 9 1) , R e a d in g M in d s (Princeton).
338 References
T y l o r . E . D. ( 1 9 0 3 ) , P rim itiv e C u ltu re, 4 t h cdn. (L o n d o n ) .
V e r m e u l e , E . ( 19 7 9 ), A spects o f D eath in E a r ly G re e k A r t a n d P o etry
(B erkeley and L o s A n ge les).
V e r n a n t , J . - P . ( 19 8 5 ) . M y th e et pensee d ie s les grecs, 2 n d c d n. (Paris).
------ (199 0), F ig u res, I doles. M asques (Paris).
------ ( 1 9 9 1 ) , ‘ P s u c h c : S im u la c r u m o f the B o d y o r Im a g e o f the
D iv in e ? ’ , in his M o rta ls a n d Im m ortals (Princeton), 1 8 6 - 9 3 .
V e y n e , P . ( 1 9 8 3 ) , Les G recs ont-ils c m a leurs m ythes? (Paris).
VlA K , P . ( 19 6 8 ), ‘ L a F o n c tio n g u e rriè re dans la m y th o lo g ie g r e c q u e ',
in J . - P . V e rn a n t (cd.), Probtèm es de a guerre d a m la G r ic e ancieim e
(Paris), 5 3 - 6 8 .
V i v a n t e , P. ( 1 9 5 5 ) , ‘ S u l l a d csignazion c del c o rp o in O m e r o ’ , A G I 40:
39 -50 ·
------ ( 19 5 6 ) , 'S u i l e d es ig n a tio n i o m c rich c della realtä p sich ic a ', A G I
4 1: 113-38 .
------ ( 1 9 7 5 ) . O t i H o m e r ’ s W in g e d W o r d s ’ , C Q 2 5 : 1 - 1 2 .
------ (19 8 0 ), ‘ M e n 's E p ith e ts in H o m e r ’ , G lo lta , 58: 1 5 7 - 7 2 .
------ ( 1 9 8 2 ) , T h e E p ith ets in H o m e r: A S t u d y in P oetic V alues ( N e w
H a v e n ).
V o i g t , C . ( 1 9 3 4 ) , Ü berlegu ng und E n tsch eid u n g: S tu d ien z u r S e lb s t­
auffassung des M enschen bei H o m er (d iss. M a r b u r g ; re p u b. as
B e iträ g e z u r K lassisch en P h ilolo g ie, 48; M c is e n h e im , 19 72).
W a c e , A . J . B ., and S t u b b i n g s , F . H . ( 1 9 6 2 ) , A C om panion to H om er
(L o n d o n ).
W a c k e r n a g e l , J . ( 1 9 1 6 ) , S p ra c h lic h e U ntersuchungen zu H o m er
(G ö ttin ge n ).
-------( 19 2 6 ), V orlesungen ü ber S y n ta x (Basle).
------ ( * 9 5 3 ). K le in e S c h r ifte n , i (G ö ttin ge n ).
W a r d e n , J . (19 6 9 ), “ “ΙφΟιμος: A Sem antic A n aly sis’ ’ , P h o en ix, 23:
14 3 -5 8 .
-------( 1 9 7 1 ). " 'Ρ οχή in H o m e r ic d e a t h - d e s c rip t io n s " , P h o en ix, 25: 9 5 —
103.
W e o s t e h , T . B. L . ( 1 9 5 4 ) , ‘ Personification as a M o d e o f G r e e k
T h o u g h t’, J W 1 17: 1 0 - 2 1 .
-------(>957). ‘ S o m e P s y c h o lo g ic a l T e r m s in G r e e k T r a g e d y ’ , J U S 7 7 :
149-54·
W ender, D . ( 1 9 7 8 ) , T h e L a s t Scenes o f the O d y s s e y (M nem osyne
S u p p l . 5 2 ; L e id e n ).
W e s t , M . L . ( 19 6 1) , ‘ H e s io d e a ’ , C Q 1 1 : 13 0 -4 5 .
------ ( 1 9 7 4 ) , S tu d ie s in G re ek E le g y a n d Iam bus (Berlin).
------ ( 1 9 8 3 ) , T h e O rp h ic Poem s (O x fo rd ).
-------(19 8 5 η ), T h e H esio dic C a talo gu e o f W om en (O x fo rd ).
------ (1985&), re view o f B r e m m e r ( 1 9 8 3 ) , C R 3 5 : 5 6 - 8 .
 References 339

-------( 1 9 8 8 ) , ‘T h e R is e o f the G r e e k E p i c ' , J U S 1 0 8 : i 5 , —7 2 · ^ #

-------( 19 9 0 ) , 'A r c h a i s c h e M e ld e n d ic h t u n g : S i n g e r n u n d S c h r e i b e n , in
K u l l m a n n a n d R c ic h c l (1990), 3 3 - 5 0 . t
-------(1993). G r e e k L y r ic P o e t r y , T r a n s la te d w ith In tr o d u c tio n a n d
N o tes ( O x fo rd ).
-------( 1 9 9 5 ) , ‘T h e D a te o f the I l i a d ' , M H 5 2 : 2 0 3 —19 .
W h it m a n 1, C . M. ( 1 9 5 8 ) , H o m e r a n d the H e ro ic T r a d itio n ( C a m b r i d g e ,
M a s s .) . .
W no itF, B . L . ( 1 9 5 6 ) , L a n g u a g e , T h o u gh t a n d R e a lit y ( C a m b r i d g e ,
M a s s .) .
von W il a m o w it z - M o e l l e n d o r f , U . (*9 3 1 )» & e r G fa u b e d e r H e l ­
lenen, i (B e r lin ).
W iL i.co cK , Μ . Μ . (1964). ‘ M y t h o l o g i c a l P a r a d e i g m a t a in th e I l i a d ’ ,
C Q 14 : 1 4 1 —54. _
------ ( 1 9 7 0 ) , ‘ S o m e A s p e c t s o f the G o d s in the I l i a d ’ , B I C S 1 7 : 1 —1 0 .
W r i g h t , M . R . (19 9 0 ) , ‘ P r e s o c r a t ic M i n d s ’ , in G i l l ( 1 9 9 0 ) , 2 0 7 - 2 6 .
Z u n t z , G . ( 1 9 7 : ) , P ersep h o n e ( O x f o r d ) .
 INDEX OF W O R D S

οασι^οσΰ'ΐ} 8 2 η. 52 apvfituv ΙΟΙ n. 10 1

αηαίφριο* η2 π. 52 Ativoaut 102
Jutu 82 η. 52. 92, 2R0-2 <9 *«£ι*αΛι/7Γτα» 2 37, 2 4 *
cyatót 25^ α μ φ ιχ η ίν ω 249
ήΛι»'ος 89 άμφ ίXSio 238
Αδρός 8 ΐ) π. 73 άνό 2 I 2 n. I 02 ^
Αδροτής 15* η . 3 ® draiVo/iat ΙΟΙ Π. ΙΟΙ
ά'ΛΑα 8 | ά^αττιμττλημ* 2 52 —3
ιΙ·ΛΑυττος 267 π. 9 äram tiO if 14 1 Π. 23
a/ftii 9 1 —2 αΐΌττιΥω 78, 1 3 9 . *4 ° . 14 1—2· *47
0« υιφροαύνη 82 α να ψ ύχ ω *44“ 7
ιΐ· tiίφριυν 82 Αν&ραφόπτης 1 5 1 —2 11.39
Αημ% 57 π. 5. 7^, 8 ι -2 , 13 1 η. ι ανδρα τής 130, 15 1-2 , 158, 2 0 $ -6
Αηίος 82 α *ιμος 8ο η 47
al*ofιοί ΙΟΙ, 3 0 4 awjujAio; 154
αία ιί>7 η. 1 8. ιΗο ό*θας 35
*/Ι»δ»/ν 1 4 ^ 5 ° · *57 π. ι, *62, 16 6 -7 0 ; anij/ii 8 ΐ , 236
C b . <t passim , esp. 17 8 -8 0 , 19 2 , aroo? 12 1
2 1 1 - 1 4 ; 283 Qffd.Vl/tFO; 308
/fi&uji cJt 15 7 η. ι Απηνής IΟΟ Π. ΙΟΙ
aü/ 1 1 3 - 1 4 άττιννοσιυ 86, 13 9 ” 4 °
ntOijp 236 η. 9 drrvct/aroc 140
άΓο»» iß ! η. ι, 1 3 9 . · 4 7 (inunt'ro^at 1 3 1 Π. 1 , 14 8 , 203—5
a !peut 120, 236, 242 anoetVw 1 3 1 , i 3 7 n . l l . 2 9 6
ηΓσα 248, 2 5 1- 3 . 255 π. 5 4 . 2 5 7 ano^it^u Μ *. *44” 7
ufoι/*«ί 8 8 uητβ/YuK 15 4 I I .4 5
aïatof 88 απτΛρος 154
άϊυΟαν 7^. 13 1* *39 Apapiotio 82 Π 52 , SS, 254
Αΐσυιο 123 260 n. 6l
α.*ώ»· 45. 46 π. 37, 54. i l l . *«3“ *5· Αργός 87 π. 66
137- 8 , ι 6 ι , 19 5 . 240, 294· 29h, Αρης 1 1 1 π. 12 6 , 26 6 -72 passim
3 1 1 . 3«4 ΰ ρ ιμ .ιι 59
UKI//I10V ΙΟΙ Α ρα ψ 3 J η. 76
liktKVf 195 ΑρτίΦρ^* 82 η. 52, 88-^j
Ακμή 2 7 " 3 ° Α οβιστος 94 *ΐ· 85
Ακτίς 272 AoAflaiVui ι 32
•lAlllVul 245 Ji»niu))ui I 3 1 —2
«i.Wo/lllt 245 Α ια ρή ς loo
«ΐΑ/ακα/ιηι 246-7 iit jp a p ï uv 100
Α \*ή a/io, 266-7 dn; 82 η. 52, 269 η 14 . 277~&2
dAi»tf«ruJ 245 α νγή 272 η 22
3* 11-73 Jflr,.·} 5 7 . μ ν
Αΐ»αυμό% 1 9 9 , 29 2 oi'föv h7 . II*). UO. 15 **. • h 5~il. 173.
ApavpAut 199, 29 J 1 75, 200. j Hj , i SH. io j
Aptup Js 1 9 1, 193 ii. 7 3, 19 8 -9 tt^a^Wu. I A4—
5
342 Index o f Words
ηφ(>η&ήι 1 93 lyyvOev 244
^ p o & in j 266—7· 268 ΙγγύΟι 248
u ^ o »/tuv I ΟI Ιγ καπνό» I 4 1 Π. 22
αφροσύνη ΙΟΙ Π. IOJ «δω 88 η. 7*
άφρυυν 83 π. 53» *ο ι Ι'ραη 3 3 - 4 . 98
άχιύο» 10 3 Ιιρσήςις ι6 ι
άχλός I f>f>—7, 242 «Γόο; 6 6 —7 , 1 η. Ι 4 >· 197
αψ*α 117 π. 1 4 1 #?5α>λοη 3 1 , 4 5 . 5 4 “ 5 · * 4 7 -8 , 15 0 ; C h .6
άψυχοί 2 9 9 . 3 ° 4 “ 5 pastini, cap. 19 5 - 2 0 5 , 2 2 3 - 4 ; 294,
3 * *. 3 * 4
βάλλομαι Sin-7, 93 •*V<w»ï 9*
βιβηκιι |6 6 Π. 1 5 . 204 Π. 88 «•V» 2 4 4 - 5
βίλος 258 ςϊκίχΐ (yield) 96—7
β.'η 1 1 2 Ικάβργος 2 57 Π. 58
βουλιCut i 22 Ικφιύγω 245
βουλή 12 2 (κ 7 (ηοτο}'μ«ιι>; 10 5
βροντή 26 θ n.Ó2 <κποτάομα» 205 π · 9 °
βνσσοδομιόα» 8 7 —8 ΙμπνΙο» 84, I I I , Ι4 Ι Π. 23
ΙναΙσιμος 88, 96
ΙνΟΐάζου I ΙΟ
γαΐα/γή 1 5 7 . * 7 8 -8 . 2 6 6 -9
Ινυάλιος 269 η. ι6 , 2 70 η. ι8
γαλήνη 264—5 Π. 2
ΙξαιρΙω Ι 3 & - Ι , 1 3 4 “ 5
γιραιός 18 3 η . 5«
ΐξαυαλόνυ 246
ytpaifnu 18 3 Π. 5 1
(((Ααΰνω 250
ytραρός 18 3 π . 5 1
iiteiyu» 1 3 5 “ 6
γ*ρας 1 8 3 - 4 . 18 9 . 2 0 3 -4
ίπίρχομα* 236
yiptjv 18 3 η . 5 1
litt 250
γίγνομαι 240 η. 20, 2 5 4 -5
Ιπιγνάμπτα» f)(t η. 89. 12 0
γλυκνΟυμος 87 η. 64
iiribiu) 237
γλυκός 9 * - 3 . 296, 302
ΙπιδινΙομακ 87
γναμπτός
ΙπιιιμΙνος 9·
γόνυ 240 η . 2ο, 276
Ιτηκλΰ/Οα» 2$2 η. 49
γνια ι >7 η. 14 1
Ιπιμαίομαι 12 4
Ιιτιρρόνιο 28, 2 5 5 —6 η. 55
δαίζημαι 8 1 —2 , 10 2 Ιτησσίόομαι 8 1
δαίμων 6 2 - 3 . 245 η. 33» 2 7 8 -9 , 290 Ιπιφαυα» 124
Satuj (divide) 10 2 inorpónu S i
Saiuj (hum) 94 η. 85 Ιριβςννός ιο ζ η. 85
hÓKvtu 9 1 η. 7 9 , 299 Ιριβος 16 7 —8, 2 0 1 —2
δαμάζω 9 2 , 95“ 6, 246 ΙρΙχΟα» 82, 102
δήμί'ημι 2 j 6 , 2 j 8 ΙρητόΐΛ» 95
δά nrtu 1 8 5 1 I . 55 Ιρίηρος 298 η. 33
Stbovta 29—30 Ιρ*ννς 2 8 1 , 290
διίμος 2 6 1 , 268 Ιρις 2 3 4 η - 6, 26ο, 2 6 6 -7 . 2 7 *
διμας 1 1 7 - 1 8 , 1 2 4 , 1 9 7 , 3 1 9 0 . 6 5 «>σ 9 3 3 - 4
δίχομαι a 5 S η · 4 5 . 246 ίρχομαι 248
6 ίκη 2 1 0 - 1 1 Ιρνυς 33 η · 7 ^»
δίχα/δίχθα 6 5, 78 Ισαγςίρομαι 1 40
διχΟίίδιος 8 1 Ιομαίομαι ΐ)θ
δοιή 29“ 3 ° iaOitu 18 5 η. 55
δρόσος 33 η . 77 ινρώιις 19 2 , 22 7
δυο 29—30 «i'/»ώτ 19 2 η. 7 1 . «99 π. .83
bitu 269 ΙνφρονΙων 84
 ■ I l f 111\ÈHÊr

Index o f Words 343

Ιφίπω 244, * 5* n .4 5 ΟνοΟλα 8ο π. 47
ίφίστψηχ 24K—9 Ονιυ (sacrifice) 80 η. 47
ςφιζάνω 2 3 7 Ουώδης 8ο η. 47
Ιχιφρω V I ΟI θωμάς 8ο η. 47
Οωριιχθιίς 9* **· 7^
ζίφνρος 1 68 Π. 20
ζόφος i6 W J, 17 8 -9 . ι 8 ι , ι 82, 202 η. 85 Ιαίνω 9 7-8
ζω γρίω 142 η. 35 ίάλλω 245
ζωιάγρια 142 η. 25 lairrto 17 4 * 1-2 8
ιάχω 274-5
τβη 205- 6, 267-8, 302-3 ίδρως 14 4 —6
η/λιος 2 7 2 —4 ίβρός I I Ο* I I
ητρβ'Οομαι 102 ί κ ά ν α ι 236, 254 η · 52 · 246
rjtpótις IQ2 Π. 7 * iV(9, see fr ^
ήθος 289 ινίον 1 I 2
ηραρ 244 η · 3° ίρις 267-8
Ήμίρη 236 Π. 9 ις II 1- 13. *4S . 176 . *94-5
7»·ιοχ<ύω 2 99 ίσος 88
7/ια 298 ιφΟιμας 112—13. *76—7
ητορ 31 η. 72, 53“ 5· eh.4 passim, esp. ιφιος 1 1 2 - 1 3 . «76 η. 36
6 1. 67, 74. 79; 138 , 146, 3 1 3 . 3 14 IU JK η 2ÓO, 266—7
Ηφαιστος 266—7
ijuif 265 η. 4. 266-8, 273 π .25. 274 η. 27 χαθαιρία* 246
2 5 8 η. 59
θαλΐθιο 3 3 «α«ορραφίη 12 0 η. 1 5 ° . 252 Π. 49
0άΛ.\«υ 3 4 "5 χακόω 8 3 π. 53
θάλπιυ 1)8 καλύπτω 24*, 247
θαλπωρή 98 καλχαίνω 87 η. 66
θάνατος 16 6 -7, 2 3 1—5. 237. 239 -63 κάματος 194
passim, 264—7 κάμνω I 94
θάπτω ΐ8 6 , 283 καπνάς Μ <“ 3. *48, «86, 199. 202
Ρtii'να 1 1 3 . ι 6 ι Manor 14 1 η. 22
0 <μ·9 265—7 ncinvr 14 1 Π. 22
0«or 2 32 -3 η. 3. 262, 265. 278 καπύσαω 1 4 1 —3
θήλυς 34 73. *74 π. 30, 177
Οιτή.οκUJ 23 1 κάρηνον 73. *74 η ·3° . *77
θύ·λλα 8 1 —3 κατά 7 * —2
θυπίις 8ο η. 47 καταδάτττομαι 9*
θirrλη 8ο η. 47 «αταηΛάζαι 102
θιιμ·ηγ*ρ<ω yS, 140 καταπ^σσω 93
Ουμιάω So η. 4 7 κατατ*Ονηώς 15 8
ΰι μοβόρος 9> καταφθιμ€νος 19 4
Oufioftrueijt 9* η .79 Ktipui 2 J I, 232 η. I
θυμός 3* π .72. 35“ 6. 44 η . 29. 53“ 55. κικαφηότα 14 Ι η. 22, Ι4 2 -3
57 η. 5; Ch. 4 passim, esp. 6 1, KfvOiu 88
67—8, 7 3“ 8 j , 90—2, ιοί·—9; 13 0 —3, «ίφαλή 58 η. 7. 59. 73. 17 2 -8 , 200. 2θ8
*40-3. 146, 148, 15 2 - 3 , ι 6 ι , 178, Μήλα 2 jlt η. 59
203-5, 240. 278, 285-6, 298, «fjAcos 258 η. 59
30 3-5. 3 * 2 - 14
Ov{v)ut (surge) 8 0 - 1, 143 «W S η ·7. 12- I J , 27- 30. ι ο ί η. lO j.
θνόας So η. 47 l(,(t~7. 170 . 2 3 1 - 5 ; 2 39 -6 3 passim;
Θΰος 8ο η. 47
264-5
θυόω 8ο η. 47 K7P S3- 5. 6 ι; C h .4 passim, esp. 6, 65
η· 12. 74. 79; 139. l6o, 3 1 3 - 1 4
344 Index o f Words
κη/ιβοσιφόρητης 249—50 N « ó f 15 8 η. 3 , 1 7 5 η · 3 2
κίλνημι 2 7 4 π. 2 7 νίκνς/νικρός 54“ 5. 158 -60 , 16 2—3,
KÏKVt 14 8 , 1 9 4 - 5 *QO—4, 1 9 9 π. 83, 2 0 7 -14 . 289 η.
κίον 2 4 4 Μομαι I 23 η. I 56
κίρνημι S6 π. 6o νίφος ιο 8 η. 12 1
Kiydvijj 24 4 , 2 4 6 , 248 v o i u t 63. 85, 1 2 1 — 6, 278-9
κλίος 94 n .8 5 ν ο τ ιμ α 1 2 1 —6
κ λίrrriu 88 ν ό ο ς 53*5. 65. 7 7. 85. * 19~20, 2 ο6,
κλοτοπινω 2 S 1 n . 43 288-Q, 3 0 3 .3 * 6
κλωΟις 2 5 1 i»óotoc 12 3 π. 1 26
Κλωθώ 2 5 1 —2 n . 49 ν ν ξ 16 6 -8 , 2 4 1, 258, 266-7
κολοσσός 1 9 6 1 1 . 7 7 νιυμάω I 23
κομίζω 3 0 7
κραΒίη 5 3 —s ; C h . 4 passivi, esp . 6 1 , 65 ξοιΌός 87 π. 66
n . 1 2 . 6 7. 7 4 - 5 . 7 9 . 1 2 1 ; 30 3 n. 42
όζος 34“ 5. *°8 π. 12 1
κροκόττιπλος 2 7 4 n . 27
Οιβιίΐ’ω 94” 5· 1 20
κτιρας 1 8 4
οίμτ) 284 η . 49
κτιριΐζω 1 84
ο*μοτ 284 η. 49
*α ·δ ο ιμ ό ( 234 ft* 6, 26 0 όίομαι 249
κύμβαχος 3 2 Π. 7 4 οίτας 2 5 1—3
ΖλιΒρος 13 7 . 2 4 * . 244. 2 5 3 ~ 4
Α α ^ χ ά να ι 1 8 6 —8 , 2 5 3 óAiyo5p u v iu tv 30 2 η. 4 °
λαμβάνω I ΙΟ , 2 3 3 . 24 2 oAiyo o O i v io t v 30 2
λαπάρη 1 3 5 " ^
ε.Χλνμ* 1 3 0 - 1 , Ι 3 4 “ 5. 296
λά σ ιο ς 74 όλοφνρομα* 78
ο ν ί ι ρ ο ς 14 8 . 19 8 -2 0 0 . 2 6 6 -7
λβίττω 1 3 0 , 1 3 4 . * 3 7
λβτττός 10 2 οπίοσίΛ* 2 4 4 π 3°
λύω 2 4 0
ορίνα* 8 1 —2, 10 2
ό ρ ν υ μ * 65— 6, 10 2 —3, 253
ο ρ φ α ν ικ ό ς ι ( ι η η. 17
μανία 1 1 1 VI. 126 ορφ ανός 167 η. 17
μ ό ρ τ η tu 236 , 238 ό ρ φ ν α ΐο ς 167 Π. 1 7
μ (γ α λ ή τω ρ 7 ° . 79 ζρφυη 16 7 Π. 17
μ β ιλιχίη 18 6 Π . 6θ όσαα 265—7
μβίλ,χος 18 6 -7 η . 6 ο , 3 ** π. 54 ονΡαρ ΐο8
μΐιλίσαω 18 6 —7 ουρανός 266—7
μ ιλ α γ χ ίτο ιν 9 * Π. 78 όφ 266 η . 6
μ ιλ ιάI 17 Π. 1 4 *. * 3 2 “ 4 . *3 8
/ι*Λι 9* παλάμη 247 η · 36
μ ιλίφ ρ ω ν 87. 9 2
V α λ ί tu 10 6 η . 1 16

μ « λ ιΤ ) δ ή ς 8 7 πά λλομαι 10 5 —6
μ ίλ π ο μ α ι 269 Π. I 5 π α ν ό α μ ά τω ρ 2 37
μό'Ο* 4 4 π. 2 9 . 5 4 . 75“6 . 84. QO. 9 4 πα ρα βάλλομα ι $6—7· 297
η . 85, n o - 1 2 . 137. *9 4 . 240. 270 123
ν α ρ α ν λ ά ζω

μ ιρ μ η ρ ίζο ι 6 5 , η · * 5 59
ν α ρ α τ ίΟ η μ ί

μ ίτά φ ρ ινο V 7 8 παμιστηκα 2 4 7 “ 9

μηκάημαι 1 5 2 —3 τταρηορος 3 2 *»· 7 4
18 5 , 1 8 8 - 9
μ ί/ ν ιμ Ο παρΟίμινος 297
μητίΐτα 125 Π . I 62 narayoi 105
/·*/Τ«ί 65 Π. . 1 2 , 1 2 2 , 1 2 5 - 6 ττατασσι.» ΙΟ 5 “ 6
μινννΟάλίΟς 113 ιτάχνί) 9 8 - 9
μοίρα 2 3 1 . 2 3 2 η · *. 2 3 9 - 26 3 passim rra^.ocij 98— 9
μύρος 2 4 6 π ιδ ά ω 2 4 6
 Index o f Words 345

vtipap 242 n. 26, 244 n. 30 , 2 54 n. 5 2 , a x i& i-ijH i 86 Π. 60

289 · σ κ ό το ς 1 6 6 -7 ,
2 4 1—2
πί'πνυμαι 83 π . 5 3 · 84“ ί», 10 4 , 2θ6 στάζω i ιο η . «24
TMOOiu 93 σ τ ιν α χ ίζ ω 7^
π τ α ιΐΊ 'μ ι I04, IQ5 η · 75 σ τ ιρ ψ ο ς ΙΟΟ
νίτομ α ι 5" 7. *°4 . *52 -6 , *95 π .75· σ η ρ ο τ τ ή 260 η. 6ι

202. 205 oTTjQta 73

ττ*υ*άλιμος 87 π. 65. 8g σ ν μ ν ή γ * ν μ ι 99
πτ)/νι/ρ Q9 σ ώ μ α i « 6 -19 , 16 3 - 5 . 285-6 . 2QO-«.
TTll'UOOlAi 86 η. 6 ζ 2 9 4 . 3 «I. 3 * 5 - 1 9
τηι-υττ) 8 6
TTuarrAg 86 tqhJu» 29 Π. 69
nt'rvijMi 86 η. 60, 1 48, 194—5. *99» 2 0 5 τα ρ ιχ ο κ 187 Π. 6ΐ
ττν«ΐ·μα 57 π. 5 τα ρ χ ύ ω 187 Π. 6 ΐ ^
ννίω 57 η. 5# 83 η 5. 8 4 -6 τ ά φ ο ς «86 η. 58
rvoo; 199 τ ά φ ρ ο ς |86 η. 58
ΐτοόηνίμας 267 π. 9 τ ί γ γ ι υ i ) 2 η. 80, g8 η. 94
ν ο ιμ ή ν i ο8 τ«6’<υ 28—9
jroinj 30b, }ΙΟ τ ίί ρ ω too, 140
ττόΐ'τος 268 τ<Μω 1 50 η. 35
ν η ρ φ ν ρ τ α ς 87 Π. 66. 242 τ όλος 242- 3 . 247
νορφυρίς 3 ° 4 τινχω 254
ττορφΌρω 87 τήκω 9 7 . *6ΐ
ηοτάομαι g, 14 8 , *99. 2 0 3—5 T»V, τ» 209 η. 96
νότμος 2 4 1, 2 5 1—3 τρίζω «93
ι τ ρ α ν ί ύ ι ς 5 3 “ 5 ί C h. 4 p n s s im , esp. 6 1 , τρομίω 9 9 η · 9 6 , 104
7 4 - 5 . 79 τνφω 8ο η . 47
π ρ ο β ά λ λ ο μ α ι 12 3
ν ρ ο ί ά π τ ω 169, 17 3 ” 4 υνολυακω 248—9
ττρ ό ο θ β 2 4 4 Π· 3 ° . 2 4 9 νη τκ φ τό γ ω 245
ν ρ ο φ ι ά γ ι υ 245 νπνος 1 66 η . 44. * 3 3 . 2 3 5 “ 9 . 242, 2 5 7 .
π τ ι ρ ό ΐ ι ς 6-7, «53-5 266-7
tTTfpót· 109« 3 °4 υ φ α ίν ω 89, 12 5 . 2 5 *—3
τ τ τ ί ρ ν ξ «55 Π. 45
TTTOllOJ 104 «£<Γ3ο/ι<ΐ4 297
ττVκα «9 φΐιόωλη 297
ττιιχαζω 9 « φίρω 2 5 5
TTUMi;iTjörji 89 Π. 74 φ*ύγω 2 4 5 . 248—9
nuifwis 89. I 20 φήμη 265
φθάνω 246
βαπτω 89, 25 «“ 3 φΟί(ν)ω I I 4 . 1 3 8 η. «5. ι6 ο —i . 19 5
fttOopαλϊλας «33 η. 4 φΟινιΌω 1 1 4 , 1 6 ο - 1 . 1 9 5
ρίΟος i «7 η. « 4 1. « 3 3 -4 φιλίω 66 π. ι 6
p i»ui 256 φ ίλ ο ς 66
piyiuj 99 Π. ijf) φιλοφυχίομαι 298
p iy io y 99 Π. 96 φόβος 2 6 1 , 268, 27»
φόνος 2 4 ·. 2 $ 3 “ 4
Oei*o? 26—7 φαρίιο 249—5 °
υβίννυμι 9 4 “ 5 φ ο ρ η τ ό ς 2 50 η . 43
OfVlü I 35-6 Φρήτ 3« η. 72. 53“ 55 ί Ch. 4 p a ssim , esp.
i/fj/io 19 6 11.7 7 6 1 , 7 4 -9 . 8 3 - 6 , 9 0 -2 , i ο/»-1 ο;
o i S i j p i of 88 n.69, 100 ι6 ο , 19 3 η 7 2 , 2 o6 - 7 , 200, 2 8 0 - 1 .
o k ia 148, 199, 202 30 3 -5 . 3° 8 - 9 . 3*3 Π- 58
 INDEX OF P A S S A G E S

HO.MEU, I L I A D . 1.3 6 3 88 η. 68, 12 5 η. 159

2-4 •4 9 . «69 1.3 8 3 *58 η. 59
3-5 Ι2 9 . Ι 7 3 - 7 1387 93
4-5 •7« I . 39 S (" J
1.4 12 28ο
4 «5 8
5-6 206 1-429 7* y
3 9 2 5 8 η . 59 1.468 69
4 4 7 · . · ° 3 η · 112 1474 7'
4 6 -7 258 1.4 9 · 66, 160
53 358 η . 59 • 543
55 70 •55 5 7 »
6 ο 245 1 .5 6 2 - 3 72
73 « 4 • 569 7 ·. 9& η. 89
8 1 - 3 93 1.5 7 2 298 η. 33
97 247 η . 3 « 1.5 7 8 298 η. 33
1 0 1 - ■4 75-6 •593 7«
103- >4 ί>9, 9° 9 ΐ η . 7 8 , i ί ο • 599 94 " .8 5
1 07 69 1 .602 69
114-*5 7 * π . 2 4 . * *8 ι.ύ ιο ij(>
•32 88 η . 6 8 , 1 2 5 η «59 2.2 236
‘ 49 9 · η . 7 8 2. 5—35 ·97 η . S2, 266
•73 69 . 8 · 2·5 72
184--5 >83 η . 5 ' 2·7 «53
iS S —9 6 5 , 69 74 2.33 72
19 2 7 · . 95 2.34 87 η . 65 . 236
*03 ί'5 . 7 · 2 .3 6 7 ·
i q 6 72 2.4 8 -9 267
301 •53 2 · 7° 72
2 0 5 • 3° 2.7 3 266 η. 8
209 72 2.85 ·ο 8
2 1 7 72 2 .9 3 - 4 266
225 7 « 2- 93 94 η. 8s
2 27-8 72 2 . 123-4 256 η. 57
22 8 254 2 .14 2 - 9 82 η ·5 *
2 4 3 66, 7 · . 1 0 2 2.142 7 ° . 102
2 5 3 84 2. · 7 · 7 ·
2 3 6 72 2 .19 2 12 2
26 3 ιο 8 2.196 7»
28 4 94 2.213 72
2 9 7 72. 8 7 η 63 2.223 72
325 99 η · 96 2 .2 3 6 - 7 94 η. 84
333 72 2. 2 4 · 72 . 93
342 72. 8 ι 2.276-^7 7°
-3 5 2 ' «3 2-301 72
.3 6 2 7· 2-302 ·6 6 , 234 η . 6, 2 4 · η .2 3 , 249
348 Index o f Passages
2 . 3 1 9 158 n. 2 3 278-9 3 ° 8
2 .352 241 n . 2 3 , 254 3.278 194. 274
2-359 2 4 ' *'-23. 244 3.294 130
2.381 269 3-309 15 5
2.392-3 1 7 1 3.322 168
2.401 245 3.3 2 4 -5 106 n. 1 16
2.409 72 3 336 177
2.42ft 2fifi 3.360 245
2.431 69 3.380-2 196 n.78
2.440 270 3 395 70
2 . 4 5 1 - 2 71 3 -4 · 2 72
2 .48 4 -7 2 5 - 6 3 - 438 71
2.490 70 3 442 69, 90
2.540 108 η. 121 4 .2 -3 223 n. 15, 267
2 5 4 7 70 4 . 1I 246
2.6 4 1 70 4 - 23 93
2 .6 5 1 1 5 1 - 2 n. 39 4 39 72
2.699 1 81 n. 48 4 43 65. 67. 72
2.704 108 n. 12 1 4 46 72
2 .7 6 7 2 7 1 n 20 4 49 >83
2 .7 8 0 -3 1 7 9 4 53 72
2.7R6-806 279 n. 38 4.77 258 n. 59
2 .7 9 0 -5 2 6 7 1 1 .9 4.104 70. 83 n. 53. 101 n. 104
2 .8 27 279 n. 37 4 .10 5 -11 2 79 0 .37
2.834 16 6 . 234 n. 6, 250 4 152 78. 140
2 .8 5 1 69. 74 n. 28 4.162 174 >1. 29
3.6 24· n .2 3 . 2 5 4 4 «63 72
3 -8 « 4
4.170 241 n. 23
3 9 72
4.182 17 9
3 . 2 3 - 7 1 17 n. 140. 3 1 6 n. 60 4.208 70
3.2 3 1 16 , 163 4.230 194
3.31 69. *03 4 24 5 72
4 251 2>z n. 102
3 -3* 245
4.263 69
3 -44-5 66
4.270-1 244 n. 30
3 45 7 ­
3 . 5 7 109 4 272 η ι
3.60-3 70. 100. 121 4 274-82 ιο8 η. 121
3.9 7 -8 69 4.289 70
3.1 0 1 2 4 ' n. 23, 254 4.309 65. 7 1 , 120-1
3.10 8 69. 102 4-313-4 57 n-S. 7°
3 . 1 2 1 - 4 0 267 n. 9 4 323 183 n. 51
3 .1 2 8 247 n. 36, 270 4 326 71
3 . 1 3 2 269 4 35* 270
3 . 1 3 8 69 4 355 '5 4
4.360-1 69
3 . 1 3 9 84 n. 56
4 439-45 *70
3 - '4 7 34
3 .1 4 8 85 11. 59. 86 4 440-1 271 n 20
3 . 1 6 4 - 5 282 4.461 241
3 .17 0 183 n. 51 4 4 6 7 - 7 2 240 η. 21
4 470 130
3 - 176 97
3.203 85 n 59 4 47«-9 I '3
3 .2 4 3 - 4 180, 224 n. 15 4 482-7 35 n . 80
4 492-3 1 5 8 0 . 3
3 *77 *73
 Index o f Passages 349

4-494 7' 5 544-5 274

4 .5 0 1—4 240 n. 21 5 55 3 2 4 1- 2
4.503 241 5 .556 1 7 6 0 .3 6
4-5' J 93 5.56 0 35 n. 80
4 .5 17 246 5.58 5-Λ 13 2
4 .5 19 - 2 16 240 n. 2 1 5.592 270 n. 18
4 .5 2 2 -6 13 1 5-594-5 271
4- 5*4 7« 5.604 2 7 1
4.526 93. 241 5 . 6 1 3 - 1 4 253
5.22 245 5.6 2 8 -9 253
5.29 69, 102 5 643 70
535-7 *70 5.644—6 1S2
5- 47 * 4= 5.646 168, 2 12 η. 10 1
5.68 241 5 .6 5 2 - 3 254 y
5 73 n * 5.6 54 56 n. 3. 14 9 -5 0 . 168 , 182
5 .7 7 -8 274 5.659 202 n. 85, 241
5 .8 2 -3 241 n .2 3 , 2 4 2 -3 5 .6 7 0 -1 69, 7 1
5 87 81 5.673 13 0
5 ' 3 5 7* 5.674 70
5 15 5 *30 5 676 70
5 .19 0 15 7 η. I, 169, 174 n. 28 5.685 1 13 , 16 1
5.228 246 5.69 1 130
5.23H 246 5.6 9 6 -8 14 2 -3
5.244—5 1 1 2 5.696 13 4 . 139 n. 16 . 242
5.250 80 5 .7 2 2 - 3 267
5 .2 5 1 - ί· 279 5 .7 2 2 223 n. 1 5
5-159 7* 5.73K -4 2 260. 266
5.26 5-6 223 n. 15 5-749 -5« 2 6 6 0 .5
5.289 270 5-778 15 5
5.296 13 7 5-785 70
5 .3 10 197 n .7 9 , 242 5 .7 9 2 70
5-3 '7 ' 3° 5 -795-8 14 5-6
5-3=f' 7* 5.806 7 1
5-333 270 n. 18 5 .8 1» 194
5.338 266 5 .8 12 10 1 n. 105
5.346 130 5.84 5 16 7 o. 18
5-355-<*3 2 7 0 -1 5.8 4 6 -6 3 271
5.364 66. 7 1 5 8 5 2 130
5-365-9 267 n. 9 5 .8 5 9 -6 1 2 7 1- 2
5-395-404 2 16 5.864 202 o. 85
5-395-400 233 n.4 5.869 10 3 o. 1 12
5-399- 4° o 69, 71 5.88 6 15 8 n. 3
5.406 72 5 902 99
5 445-53 19 6 -7 . 223 5.905 223 n. 15 , 267
5 .4 6 1- 7 0 271 6 m 241
5.468 70 6 .17 130
5 470 70 6 .19 1K0
5.487 2 5 6 11.5 7 6 .51 70
5 493 69. 91 11.79 , 399 6 .6 1 70, 12 4
5.508 271 6 72 70
5- S 'o 70 6 . 1 0 0 -1 III
5 - 5 2 4 ' I ' h . 1 3 4 8 0 o 47
5.539 7 1 , 120 ft. 14 3 244 n. 30. 254 n. 52
35° Index o f Passages
0.157 7a 7 . 1 8 1 - 2 106 n. 1 1 6
6.16 6 93 7 .2 1 0 91
6 .16 7 72 7 .2 1 6 105
6 .18 2 I I I 7.241 269 η. 15
6 .18 7 252 n. 49 7 -2 5 4 24 5
6.202 88 n. 71 7.269 1 1 2
6.205 259 η. 60 7.289 86 n . 6 i
6.234 70, 2 8 i n. 44 7 .3 2 1 1 8 3 1 1 . 5 1
6.256-7 70 7 .3 2 4 - 30 149
6.264 92 7.324 2 5 1 n.49
6.270 80 n. 47 7 .32 8 -3 0 17 3 . 270
6 .28 1—5 180 7.3 30 169. 178
6.283 70 7 · 3 3 6 - 4 3 21
6.284 168 7.347 85 n. 59
6.285 O9 7 - 3 5 8 122
6.326 7 1, 93 7.402 244 n. 3 ° . 254 n. 52
Ο.351-3 70 7 .4 10 186
6.352 120 7 .4 2 1 —32 185-6
6 .355-8 282 7 -435- 4 » 21
Ο.355 O9 7 - 4 4 7 »22, 125
6.356 280 n. 41 7.482 238
6.361 69, 8 1 8.1 274 n. 27
0.395 70 8 . 1 3 - 1 6 179
6.407 I I I 8.34 251 n.45
6.41 I I 80 8.48 80 n. 47
6.41 2 98, 244 8.69-74 28. 255-6
6 .4 17 72. 183 8.90 1 30
6.422-3 182 8 .123 »37
6.422 169 8.124 90-91
6.428 259 n. 60 8 »4 3 —4 »76 η. 35
6.432 167 n. 17 8.150 179
0-439 7° 8 .1 66 245 n. 33
Ο.444 70 8.185—6 256 n. 57
6.447 7* 8.202 78 n. 39
6.464 I8O 8.237 2X0 n .4 1
6.48I 7I 8.262 91
6.486 72 8.270 130
6.487 168-9. 174 n . 28 8.277 »80
7 .6 19 4 8.281 174 η. 29
7.52 241 n . 2 3 . 244 8 ·3 » 5 » 3 7
7-59 «55 8 .316 90-91
7 .7 8 - 9 163 8.324— 7 *34 π. 6
7.79- 80 186 8 .3 3 5 «»>
7.8 5- 4» 1 87 n. 61 8 354 25' »»■ 45
7.86 - 90 185 8.358 »3°
7-95 78 8.366 87 η. 65. 89
7.97 >>0 8.367-9 21 6
7-99 158 n .2 8.36S 202 η. 85
7 .10 0 ιο ί n . 105 8 - 379— 8ο 1 7 »
7 .10 2 254 n. 52 8 -3 9 3 - 5 266 η. 5
7 .12 9 - 3 1 138 8 -3 9 7 - 4 3 2 267 η · 9
7 .1 3 1 13 2 , 169. 178 8.433 266 η. 5
7 .16 4 91 8 ·4 &ι 93
 Index of Passages
8.465 2 5 1 n . 4 5 9.499 80 n. 47
8 .478-81 179 9 . 5 0 5 - 7 280
8 . 4 7 8 - 9 254 n. 5 2 9 - 5 1 4 9 7 n- 89. 1 2 0
8.488 2 0 2 n. 85 9.524-605 1 6 0 . 3 3
8 .49 1 ' 8 5 9 . 5 5 I IO3 0 . 1 1 2
8 . 5 1 3 94 n . 8 4 9 -5 5 3 - 4 94
8 . 5 1 6 269 9-554 89. 1 2 0
8.526-S 249 -50 9.564 2 59 0. 60
8 . 5 4 7 - 5 2 80 n . 4 7 9 . 5 f>5 9 3
8-5 53 83 n. 55 9 .5 7 1 - 2 202 0 .8 5
9 . 1 —2 266 9.5 9 5 10 2
9 . 4 -8 8 1 - 2 9 5 9 7 - 8 96
9.8 1 0 2 n. 1 0 8 ' 9.600 -1 63, 12 4 , 2 7 8 -9
9.4= 81 9 .6 0 8 -10 57 y
9 .5 8 85 9 .6 12 103
9.93 2 52 n .4 9 9 . 6 3 5 - 6 95
9 . 1 0 4 - 5 12 2 9 .6 4 6 - 7 94
9 . 1 0 9 - 1 1 96 9 .6 7 8 - 9 9 4 - 5
9 . 1 1 1 18 3 n. 5 1 9 . 7 0 2 - 3 278
9 . 1 1 5 280 1 0 . 2 —4 236
9 .116 - 2 0 280-1 1 0 . 9 - 1 0 78, 1 0 4 , 99 0 . 9 6
9 . 1 3 4 266 n. 8 10.26 237
9 . 1 4 1 108 1 0 . 4 5 124
9 . 2 1 9 - 2 0 80 n. 47 1 0 . 8 3 1 6 7 0. 1 7
9 .2 2 9 —3 1 29—3 0 1 0 . 8 9 - 9 0 57
9 .2 3 9 269 n. 16 1 0 . 9 1 - 2 237
9 . 2 5 4 - 6 95 1 0 . 9 3 - 5 104
9.260 94 10 .9 6 2 3 6
9 .2 S3 108 ■ O.IO4—5 ' 2 2
9 . 3 1 3 88 IO.IO7 94
9 3 2 1 - 2 5 6 - 7 . 59 IO .173-4 2 7 - 3 0
9 3 2 2 1 3 3 . 297 IO .I92 —3 2 3 6
9 -3 3 4 - 4 3 2 1 - 2 ■ O.I99 ' 8 5
9 -3 3 4 18 3 n. 51 ■ Ο .216 1 8 4
9 -3 4 1 - 3 66 n. 16 IO.223 98
9 3 7 2 91 n . 7 8 1 0 . 2 2 6 65 Π. 1 2 , 1 0 2 , 1 2 2
9 .3 7 7 281 n . 4 4 123
9.398 81 10.253 231
9-401 58 1 0 . 2 7 6 1 6 7 n. 1 7
9 .4 06 -9 56 1 0 .3 6 6 84 n. 56
9-407 1 7 7 1 0 .3 8 6 1 6 7 n. 1 7
9-409 1 3 3 10.391 122, 280 n .4 1
9 - 4 1 0 - 1 1 2 5 3 . 255 1 0 . 4 0 1 1 2 4 n. 1 58
9 .4 · 1 241 n. 23 10.452 130
9 4 «5 - 6 1 1 3 ■ 0 .4 82 84 n. 56
9 . 4 1 6 242, 244 10 .49 5 ' 3 0
9.4 22 18 3 n. 5 1 10 .5 7 2 -6 145
9 -4 3 4 - 5 87 n. 63 ' 0 .5 7 5 I 4 7 n . 3 3
9 4 3 6 93 1 1 . 1 - 2 267
178 n .4 1
9 -4 5 7 11 . 3 - 4 *66
9.462 95 1 1 . 2 7 - 8 2 6 7 n. 9
9.468 266 1 1 .3 6 - 7 261
9 4 9 6 -7 95
' 1 -5 2 - 5 *7 3 - 8
352
I «. 5 4 - 5 169
I 1 .7 3—7 2fill
I « · « 1 5 «3*5
1 1 . 1 5 8 - 6 2 1 7 1 —2
u . 158 177 n .38
1 1 . 2 4 1 - 6 3 170
1 1 . 2 4 t 2 37
n . 2 4 8 - 5 3 184 η. 53
1 1 . 2 6 2 - 3 1 7 2 . 182
1 1 .2 9 6 83 n. 55
1 1 .3 0 9 «77 n. 38
11-3 *5 S 3 n. 55
1 1 . 3 3 2 «66. 2 34 n. 6, 241 n. 23
» 1-334 «34
1 1 .3 3 6 29 n. 69
1 1 . 3 4 2 So
1 1 . 3 5 6 —60 140
1 1 . 3 5 6 242
1 1 .3 6 0 2 4 5
1 1 . 3 6 2 245
1 1.392 101 n. 1 0 ;
1 1 . 3 9 4 - 5 1 67 n 17. 17 «. 172 n 25
I I . 403—II 67—8
1 1 .405 99 n. 96
1 1 .40 7 65 n. 1 4 , 66
1 1 . 4 4 « 244
1 1 .4 4 3 - 5 1 49-50
1 1.443 241 n. 23. 255
«1-445 56 n. 3. 168. 182
11 -151 242, 246
1 1 - 4 5 3 - 4 «7 «
1 1 .4 5 5 184
I I -484 244 «1. 30
II.4 9 9 -5 0 1 7 7 0 . 3 8
I« 534 «SS
1 1 .5 7 9 74 0 .2 9
1 1 .5 8 5 245
1 1 .588 244 n. 30
11.5 9 6 1 1 8
1 1 . 6 2 1 - 2 14s
1 1 .6 2 1 144. «47 n 33
II.66H-9 « 12. «95
1 1 .669 97 n. 89
11.6 9 0 - 3 2 1 6
I I 8 1 7 - 1 8 171
12 .35 94 o S j
1 2 .5 2 - 9 2 1
12.79 244 n.30, 254 n. JZ
1 2 . 1 1 3 245
1 2 .1 9 4 «So
12 .2 3 2 122
1 2 .2 3 9 —40 1 6 8 0 . 2 0
12 .2 58-60 21
Index o f Passages
1 2.280 2 58 n. 5Q
12 .3 2 0 -1 1 1 2
1 2 . 3 2 6 - 7 24S
1 2 . 3 2 6 2 4 1 o. 23
1 2 .3 8 6 1 3 2
1 2 .4 0 2 246
1 2 4 1 0 - · i 1 7 6 o. 3 5
1 2 .4 3 3 -6 28-9
1 2 . 4 5 1 —6 1 0 8 n. 1 2 1
«3 4 5 1 1 7
1 3 . 6 2 —7 1 1 5 5 o. 46
1 3 82 84 o. 56
« 3 .8 3 - 6 1 4 6
«3 s 4 « 4 7 n. 33
«3 -R.4 «9 4
1 3 15 6 83 o. 55
«3 - 17R—8« 35 o. 80
1 3 . 2 1 6 2 75
1 3 . 2 2 4 1 0 1 n. 105
« 3 * 3 3 «7 «
1 3 . 2 8 0 95 o 87
1 3 282—3 1 0 5 . 249
13 . 2 9 S —3 0 3 2 7 0 o. 17
13 . 2 9 8 —3 0 c 2 6 1 , 2 7 1 o 20
«3 -3 5 S - 9 2 5 4 n. 52
«3 3 9 4 «20
«3 3 9 4 - 6 1 0 3
I 3 39R-4 0 I 13 2
1 3 . 4 1 2 74 n . 2 9
1 3 4 1 4 - 6 184-5
1 3 . 4 1 S 16 8
«3 4 4 2 - 4 « 3 <>
1 3 442 74 0 . 2 9
13 444 I««. 270
1 3 .4 8 7 1 2 0
1 3 . 4 9 1 - 5 1 0 8 n. 1 2 1
i j .j o K - i o 1 5 9
1 3 5 1 4 244 n . 3 0
1 3 . 5 1 9 2 7 0 n 18
I J 544 242
1 3 566 245
13 J6 7 - 9 269-70
Ο 570-5 131-2
13 5 75 2 4 1
1 3 . 5 8 0 241
13 . 5 9 6 245
1 3 .602 241 n. 23, 242 11.2 6 , 2 53
I 3 . 6 2 0 - 3 9 282
1 3 6 30 269
1 3 648 245
13653-$ O '
13.660-72 1 8 4 0 . 5 3
I3665 2 JJ
 Index o f Passages 353

13 .6 7 1- a 1 3 1 , 15 3 n .4 2 5 .10 86
13 67a 242 5 .16 252 n.49
13.673 118 5 36-9 <74 n-49
13 .7 11 I 94 5.52 124
13.7 3 2 12 2 n. 15 s 5 .6 0 -1 140
13.763 I 18, 13 4 , 13 7 5.60 84 n. 56
13.808 103 5.6 1 100
13 .8 3 1- 2 17 1 5.8 0 -3 12 3
14 .16 - 2 1 81 5.8 1 87 n. 65. 89
14 .2 0 - 3 102 n. 108 5 .8 7 -10 0 266
14 .2 0 - 1 65 5.94 10 0 n. 10 1
14 .SO 87 n. 63, 93 5 .10 4 10 1
I4.62 I24 5 .1 1 9 —20 2 6 1 ,2 7 · n. 20
14.99 28, 256 n. 55 5 .I2 9 12 2 n. i 54 y
14 .114 180 5 .13 4 254 n .5 3
14 .13 2 298 5 ·'38 94
14 .14 K -5 1 271 5 .14 4 267 n. 9
14 .16 4 - 5 236-8 5 .15 3 80 n.47
14 .16 5 - 6 87 11.65, 89 5 17 0 -2 267 n .9
14 .17 2 80 n. 47 5 .18 7 - 9 3 178
14.200 254 n. 52 5 .19 1 167
14.201 2 7 4 11.2 8 5.203 97 n .8 9 . 124
14 207 93 5 .2 3 7 -8 156
14 .2 17 88 n. 68, 89 5.24 0 -2 146
14 .2 30 -9 1 236 5.240 140
>4 * 3' *35 5 .2 5 1- 2 169. 182
14 233 236 n. 9, 237 5 .2 5 ' <92
14.246 274 n. 28 5.252 1 3 1 n. 1 , 138 n. 13 , 13 9 . 147
14.249-62 236 5.262 84 n. 56, 1 1 1
14.249 86 n. 62 5.280 104
14 .2 5 2 -3 237 -8 5 287 245
14 .2 58 -6 1 236 η. 9 5-349-SO <86
14.267—76 266 5-349 254
14 301 2 5 4 11.5 2 5 350 169
14.302 274 n .28 5 35' »7 «
14.306 93 5 375 244 n .30
14 3 12 298 5 383 na
M I I S - * 9° 5 4 1 0 - 1 3 29 n.69, 254 n· S 1
Μ 344-5 473 5.461 89, 120
'4 34« 33 <<·77 5.464 12 3
'4 351 34 5.480 177
1 4 -3 5 4 - 6 2 2 3 6 , 238 5.495 241 n 23, 244
14.3813-91 254 « ‘ 54 5 5 0 9 122
H 4°8 445 5.566 87 n .63
14 -4 0, 4—3*3 <39 5.578 241
14 438-9 442 5.594 1 1 <
14 457 '68 5.605-6 270
14 .4 61 245 5.624-9 82 n. 51
'4 .4 7 6 -8 5 1 8 4 0 .5 3 5.627 104
I4.495 114 3.628 255
I4.516-9 «.IS 5.629 102 it. 108
14 5 19 241 5 6 4 5 1 0 6 1 1 .1 1 6
• 5-9- · · <39 5.604-5 2 4 7 11.3 6
354 Index o f Passages
15.699 122 η. 155 16.658 28 η. 67, 256 η. 55
I5.7IO 120 ■ 6.66ο 7 4 ι · 2 9
1 5.741 i Hf» η. 6o 16.666- S3 lö s . 233, 235-6 . 259.
16 .19 88 η. 68 2 6 1-2
i6 j o 93 16 .6 6 7- 75 259-62
16 .3 3-5 100 η. 101 16.6 74-5 '8 4 . 18 7 11.6 1
1 6-47 241 η. 23 |6 .6 8 ·—3 ι6 6 η . 14
16.98 245 16.687 24 · η. 23. 245
1 6.109—1 1 140, 14 6-7 16.693 244 η. 3'
16 .13 7 ·7 7 1 6 .7 1 6 275
16. 173-8 274 '6-743 ' 3 2
1 6.203 93 η. 82 1 6 . 7 5 8 8 3 η. 55
I 6.2 IQ 120 '6-779 272 η. 24
16.258 84 η. 55 ι 6·79*-2 247 ο- 36
16.265 120 ■ 6.8 ι 7 245
16.274 280 16.824 33 η. 55
16 .3 16 241 16.836 1 7 '
16 .3 19 -2 1 159 16.842 ιο ι η. 104
16.325 241 16.849-50 243 η. 27
16.326- 9 170 16 .8 5 1- 4 262
16 .3 2 6 - 7 202 η. 85 16 .8 5 2 - 3 247
16.330 -4 240 η. 21 16.853 243 η. 27
' 6-333-4 241-3 16 .8 55-7 4- 7. ' 29. Μ 8. 1 51 —Λ.
16-35° 24' '7 2 —8, 2 14 - 5 . 2 3 '. 2 6 1-2 , 264,
16 .3 5 2 -7 108 η. 12 1 282-4
' 6-359 24' 16 855 243
' 6-403-4 '03 ■ 6.856 «33. 3°4
16 .4 14 242 16.857 ' 5 8. 2θ6, 302
ι 6 ·4 '8 ι8 ο ■ 7-20-3 i n
' 6.435 65 · ■ 7-53-60 35 η. So
■ 6.442 246 ' 7-73 275
16.450 78 η. 39 ■ 7-83 90-^1
' 6-453-7 232 -3 17-88 266
' 6-453 " 3. ' 37. ' 6 ' 17 .9 0 -10 5 67-8
' 6.454 235-6 «7-97 65 η. ·4
16.4 56 -7 184, 187 η .6 ι ■ 7·· ■ 1-12 98-9
16.468-9 1 3 ' η. 1, 152 ■ 7-> ·8 84 η. $6
■ 6.468 139 ■ 7 - 1 2 5 —7 ' 7 '
16 .4 8 1-5 0 5 >35 ■ 7 · * 53 ' 7 '
16.481 74. 79. 8ο ■ 7-201- 2 245
16.502—5 240 η. 2 1, 2 4 '—2 ■ 7-2 ■ ο - I I 269. 270 η. 1 8
16.504 74 η .29 ■ 7 - 2 1 1 - Ι 2 · 3 2 η. 3
16.529 84 η. 56, 1 1 ■ 17.240 158 η. 4
16.540 ·6ο ■ 7-24' · 7'
' 6-543 270 ■ 7 2 4 2 - 3 174" . 29
' 6-554 74 η·28 ■ 7.267 120
ι 6.6ο6-7 ' 32. '53 "·4 2 ' 7-272-3 ' 7*
ι 0.6 ο7 242 ■ 7-302-3 113
16 .6 13 ■ 1 1 , 270 ■ 7-323 " 7
16 .6 20 -1 17 6 11.3 5 '7-349 74 η - 29
16.621 94 η. 85 17.362 158 11.4
16.625 56 η .3. · 49—5° . '6 8 , 182 ■ 7.366 ι · 8
16.629 '8 · η .48 ■ 7 -3 8 · 2 4 9
 Index of Passages 355

7-399 93 18 .36 7 252 η .49

7-4 *6-7 *79 18 .3 8 2 -3 266, 268 η. ιο
7.424 100 n. too 18 .4 19 -2 0 *24
7.456 84 n. s6 18 .4 3 7 -4 0 35 θ · 8°
7.469-70 281 η. 44 18.446 ι6ο
7.478 244 18.46* Ό 3 η. * *2
7.490 269 18 .4 6 4 -5 246
7 499 9° 18 .5 0 · 254 π - 52
7-511 244 η. 30 18.5 *8-9 234 0 .6
7 .5 18 - 3 5 102 η. ιο8 *8-535-40 234- 5. 26ο
7-52*-* '76 *8 .535 266
7-522 1 1 2 ι 8.54° '58 η . 4
7-529 270 1 9 - 1 - 2 267

7-535 74 η- 29 «9· ι 6 93 ^
7-547-52 267 η. 9 19. 26-7 M 3
7-5S8 >7* ■ 9-27 *6ι
7·5<>4 9° *9-59 259 η- 6ο
7-672 244 19-86-8 2 8 ι
7-7*4 245 19.87 243 ο- 27
7- 734“ S *5« η. 3 19.9· 28ο π . 4*
7 749 *76 *9 -'2 5 90
8.1 iiS 19.129 28ο η . 4 *
8 .2 0 -1 159 ■ 9 .1 3 6 —8 280 η . 4 ' . 28ι
8 .3 · 240 η. 20 ■ 9 -* 42 269
8- 55—9 35 **·8ο 1 9 -189 269
8.65—108 44 η. 29 ■ 9 · 2 ΐ 8-9 123 η · '5 7
8.8 ι - 2 174 0-29 19-221-4 ιο8 η. ■ 19
8. q6 252, 262 η. 67 • 9 -223-4 256 η. 55
8 .10 7 - 10 92—3 19-223 28 η. 67
8.109 87 π. 64 19 .27 0 -4 28ζ
8 .1 ί ο 94 19-274 255
8. 112—3 96 19-275 269
8.114 174 η- 29 ■ 9-284 102 η. ιο8
S.» 15—
6 246 ■ 9-294 244 0 - 3 °
8. 1*7 245 ' 9 -350-1 155 η . 46
8 .1 1 9 243 η . 27 19-409 244 η. 3°
8 *33 244 1 9- 4 1 ° 243 η · 2 7
8. ι 6 ι —4 ιο8 η. Ι 2 ΐ 19 4 2 0 255
8 .ι6 ι 1 16, 16 3 2 0 .4“ 6 266
8 .16 5-2 0 2 267 η. 9 2 0 .7 274
8.204 *76 2 0 . 1 3 1 5 7 η. i
8.209 269 2 0 .3 3 -4 8 27« η. 19
8.225 *°3 20 - 35 «7 η. 6s, 8 q
8.239-42 273-4 20.40 274
8.264 270 20.61—5 '7 9
8.283 17* 20.61 1 5 7 η. I
8.295 *22 20.64—5 '9 2 η. 7 *
8.309 27ο 20.65 * 9 2
8.3* I 2 8 ι η .44 20.68 258
8.328 122 20 . 73-4 274
8 .33 2 -3 · 8 1 20.78 270
8-336-7 «81 η. 49 2 0 .1 1 0 84 0 .5 6 , u i
8-344 '84 2 0 . 1 2 7 - 8 2 51
356 Judex o f Passages
2O.I33 >12 2 1 .2 4 8 -9 275
2 0 .2 3 2 —5 223 n. 15 2 1.10 8 -7 1 175
2 0 .2 3 8 34 21.281 246
20.24 9 49 2 1 .3 0 5 —7 275
20 .29 4 *68 21.32 2-3 18 6 0 .5 8
20 .30 0 246 = I 3 2 4 - 7 275
2 0 .3 3 6 168 2 1.324 80
20 -337 2 4 1 n .2 3 . 244 2 1 .3 5 6 - 8 275
2 0 .35 6 —7 17 6 η . 35 2 1 .3 5 6 I I 2, 176
20 -372 toe 2 1.3 8 3 III
2 0 .3 7 7 246 2 I.3 8 6 78, 82
2 0 .3 8 1 91 2 1 . 3 9 1 - 4 1 4 271 n. 19
20.39 0 24S 2 1.39 5
2 0 .39 3 24 > 21.4 41 '2 1
2 0 .4 0 3-6 1 3 1 - 2 . 15 3 2 1.450-1 266 n. 5
20.403 78. 13 9 2 1 .466 101 n. 105
2 0 .4 12 80 2 1.4 8 2 -4 257 n. 58, 259 η. 60
2 0 .4 1 3 - 1 8 2 4 0 n . 2 t . 2 4 1 21 - 547-8 246—7
20.420 244 n. 30. 254 n. 52 2 i. 5 5 t 87
20 .4 39 -4 0 144 2 1 .5 5 2 —70 67—8
20.449 245 2 1.561 144. >47 η. 33
20.4(17 87 n. 64 21.562 65 it. 14
2 0 .4 7 1 241 2 1.5 65 241 η. 23, 245
20.472 13 0 21.5 68—70 58
20.476—7 2 4 2 -3 2 1 600 196 η. 78
20.481 2 44 η. 3 0 , 2 4 9 22.2 144. >47 η 33
20.499 185 22 5 246 η . 35
21.2 274 22.21 84 η. 55
21.6-7 195 n. 75 22.39 244
2 1 . 9 - 1 1 274 22 .42-3 «7 *
2 1.4 5 —8 169 2 2 5- >68
2 1.5 2 194 22 - 54 > 13 η. *29
21.54 -6 ' 2 2 .5 8 1 1 3 . *6ι
2 1.5 6 167 22.59 fi4
a t .62—3 180 22.6*1—75 >65
2 1.6 6 24t n. 2 3. 245 22.66-7 >7 «
2 1.8 4 1 1 3 22 .*»7-8 <33
2 1 .to o 244 n. 30 22 7 4 "6 · 7 >
2 1 .1 0 3 245 22 .88-9 >7 '
2 t . n 0 248 22.96 94 η· 8s
2 2 .9 8 -130 67-8
2 1 .1 3 0 - 2 274
2 1 . 1 3 1 276 n .3 1 22.161 58. 3 1 8 η 6ι
2 1 .1 3 6 - 8 275 22.169 78 η. 39
2 1 .1 4 5 n o 32.175 255
2 1 . 1 8 1 - 2 13 2 22. I 82—J I 7 >
2 1 .1 8 1 93· * 4· 2 2 .1 8 5 12 2 η 155
2 1 . 1 8 4 - 9 9 275 22.202 245
21 201 138 22 209 - 1J 5 η · 7 . 28 . 255-6
2 1 .203-4 1 7 ' n. 22 2 2.2 J 7 134-5
2 1.2 1I-I3 275 22.258-9 *63
2 1 . 234- 4 ' 2 7 5 22.267 27°
2 1 .2 3 4 80 22 272 8θ
2 1 . 2 3 7 276 n. 31 22.300—3 248
 Index o f Passages 357
22.303 244 2 3 .10 0 - 1 148, 186, 19 3 , 19 9 -20 2
j j 312-3 o» 2 3 .10 1 193
21.312 mo 23 10 3 - 4 74. 2 0 6 -7 , 308
** 3*5 13 4- S. ' 3 7 2 3 .10 4 19 3 n 7 2, 195
2 2 .3 3 s—Λ 17 1 2 3.I ΙΟ 211
22.336 184 2 3 .12 6 196 η. 7 7
22.337 302 n. 40 2 3 -13 7 1 8 1
2 2 .33 8 -9 58 2 3 . '4 1 - 5 1 274
22.339 ' 7' 2 3 .14 8 80 n .4 7
2 2 .34 2 -3 16 3, 186 2 3 .15 4 —26 1 18 5 -6
22.342 1 1 6 2 3 .1 6 1 - 8 3 18 1 n.49
22.34 8 -54 17 1 2 3 .16 9 1 16 - 7 , 16 3
2 2.357 100 *3·> 7 7 1 00 n. 100
22.358 188 2 3 .18 2 —7 17 1 *
22.358-6 0 18 5, 262 2 3 .18 2 - 3 1 8 5 1 1 .5 5
2 2 .3 6 1- 3 4 -7 . 12 9 , 14S. 1 5 1 - 6 , 2 3 .18 2 9 1 n .79
17 2 -8 . 2 14 - 5 , 2 3 1 , 2 6 1- 2 , 264, 2 3 .19 0 —I 1 1 2
2H2-4 23 19 4 - 2 13 2 6 7 11.9
22.361 242-3 2 3.22 0 —4 162
22.362 13 3 , 158 , 304 2 3 .2 3 0 80
22.363 206, 302 2 3.2 3 8 I I I
22.385 65 n. 14 23.244 15 7 η. I, 18 ·
22.38 6-7 15 8 -9 2 3 .2 5 9 -6 0 17 6 - 7
22.389 168 * 3-3'3 1*5
2 2.4 0 1—2 195 n. 75 2 3 .3 1 6 - 7 82
22.425 168 2 3 .3 7 0 105
22.436 244 2 3 .4 13 256 n .5 7
2 2 .4 5 1—3 'OS 23.468 I to
2 2 .4 6 1-7 105 23.484 100 n. 10 1
22.466 -7 14 0 -1 23.490 1 6 7 1 1 . 1 7
22.466 242 23 590 65 n. 12 , 10 2, 12 2 n. 15 4 , 123
22.475 78, 14 1 2 3 .5 9 7 -6 0 0 9 7 -S
22.48 2-3 182 23-598 34
22.482 168 2 3 .6 1 1 100 n. 10 1
22.50 8-9 17 1 23.646 1 84
23-9 183 23.72 0 1 1 2
2 3 .17 - 1 9 16 2 , 21 ■ 23.880 152
2 3 .2 2 -3 18 1 n .49 * 4-4-5 * 3<» «*. 9. *37
* 3-33 266 24.6 44 n. 20, 1 5 1 , 206 n. 92
2 3 .5 0 -1 18t 2 4 .18 - 2 0 165
2 3.51 'f'7 24.28 280 n. 41
2 3.6 2-3 236, 238 *4 35 '59
2 3 .6 5 -10 7 2 16 24.38 184
23-65-7 200 24 40-3 96
2 3 .7 1-4 2 1 1 - 1 3 24.40 88 11 6q
23.7I 283 24.44 185
23 7* ' 94-5 24.50 138
23-75*6 187, 200 * 4-54 '5 7 n. 2
23.76 186 *4 70 183
23.77- 0 *40 24.76 162
2 3.7 8 - 9 253 2 4 7 7 - 8 3 267 n. 9
2 3 .9 4 -10 7 2 0 8 -10 2 4.81 154
23.94 1 7 4 1 1 .2 9 ,2 0 0 24.107-8 162-3
358 Judex o f Passages
24.1I5-8 I62 HOMER. ODYSSEY :
24.128 103 n. 112 I.3 122
24.129 88 n. 71 1- 4-5 59 -
2 4 . 1 3 1 - 2 247 » . 1 7 252 n.49

24.13* * 4 7 n.37 1.3 2 -4 282 11.45

24.136 162 I.48 102
24 .151 162 1.60 66
24.168 134, 137 *•77 94
24.180 162 1.10 3 275
24.20 1-2 120 1.16 7 98. 223
24.201 101 *-*92 94
24.205 100 ■ .229 86 n. 61
2 4.209-11 251 1.2 5 0 160
2 4 . 2 1 1 - 1 2 171 1.279 89 n .74
2 4 -2 3 5 .84 1.282—3 266
24.246 169. 179-80 1.2 9 · 184
24.276 174 η. 29 1.3 19 - 2 0 155 n.46
24.282 89 1.3 4 1 66
24.321 97 *-343-4 174 **· 29
24.328 244 1.3 6 1 85
2 4 -3 4 3 - 5
237 **. »*. 257 1.438 89 n.74
24.358 103 2.38 86
24 364 84 2.68—9 266
24.367 122 n. 155 2.70-83 138 n. 12
24.376 ι · 8 2- 92 *24-5
2 4 -3 7 7 85 2 .9 3 - 110 226, 252 n.49
24.406-15 171 2 .10 0 241 n. 2 3, 246
2 4 -4 * 9 33 n. 27, 34, 161 2 .10 7 266 n. 5
24-422-3 * 5 9 2 .12 4 '2 2 n. 155
2+ 428 255 n .54 2.16 5 241 n .2 3 . 254
24.442 M l 2 .2 16 -7 266
24*443—56 21 n. 49 2.222 184
24.498 270 2.2 31 88 *>- 69
2 4 5 2 5 - 5 * 2 5 2 1 1 .4 9 2.236 120 n. 150, 252 n.49
2 4 -5 7 9 * 7 4 n.29 2.237 59
24.584 95 n. 88 2.250 244
24.585 102 2.26S 1 1 7
24.605-7 259 n. 60 2.270 -2 11 0 .2 4 3 η. 28
2 4 . 6 1 1 158 n. 2 2.279 125 η. 1 60
24.617 93 n. 84 2 .28· 122
24.639 93 n.84 2.283 241 n .2 3 . 255
24.637 184 2 .3 16 245
24.674 89 2-352 245
24.678 236 2.395 236-7
24.679 236 2.398 137
24.695 2 7 4 1 1 .2 7 2.409 1 1 2
24.725 1 1 3 , 161 3 .16 244
24 7 5 ° 255 n.54 3.45 266 n. 8
2 4 -7 5 4 *3 5 3.52 86
2 4 -7 5 7 33 n.
27, 34, 161 3.74 56 n 3. 59, 297, 3 18 n. 61
24-758-9 258 n. 59, 259 n. 60 3 . 1 1 8 252 n. 49
24.784-800 186 3 .12 8 120
24.792 1 1 1 3 .13 4 2 51 n.45
 IndeX of Passages 359

3.139 91 4.691 210 η .99

3-M 7 124 4.696 86
3 . 1 6+ 2 9 8 η . 3 3 4 ·7 ° & - 9 ι ° 9
3 .18 2 - 3 9+ n. 8s 4 - 7 1 1 86

3 1 9 5 '57 η · ' 4 .7 12 - 1 3 279 π. 36

3 ·2 θ 8 2 5 2 η . 4 9 4 ·7 ' 4 244
3.238 24' η. 23. 246 4 -7 3 9 2 52 0 .4 9
3·24» 255 4 753 *55
3-25· 202 η . 86 4 754 8 3 0 .5 3
3.2 5 9 -9 « 1 7 2 0 . 2 6 4 -7 7 7 «8
3 . 2 7 9 - 8 0 258 4.789 2 4 5
3- 285 184 4 - 7 9 3 236
3 3 2 8 86 4 7 9 5 - 8 3 9 19 6 0 .7 8 7 1 9 7 -9

3 .3 7 1- 2 '55 η .4 6 4.824 292

3 ·4 '° ' 6 6 η. 1 5 , ' 7 ° 4.834 i6g
3 455 «32 4.835 292
3.468 1 1 8 4 ·» 3 7 '5 4
4- 97 2 3 ' 5 .1- 2 267
4-145-6 *8ζ 5.1 223 ο. 15
4-ΐΚο 241 5·9 88 ο. 6g
4 . 19 0 86 5 - 2 3 '2 2
4 . 1 9 6 - 8 1 8 3 - 4 . 2 44 5 -4 7 - 8 2 5 7
4 . 1 9 6 2 4 1 η. 23 5 -5 « —4 ' 5 5 ο . 46
4 .2 0 4 -6 85 η. 59 5-83 82. 102
4-2θ8 2 5 2 η . 4 9 5 - 9 5 «8
4 - 2 1 1 86 η. 6 ι 5 .12 3 -4 2 5 9 η. 6ο
4-252 223 η . 15 5-126 96
4 2 5 6 122 5.136 223 η. 15
4-259“ 6ο 65 η. 12 , 124 5 -* 5 ' “ 3 " 4
4 2 6 1 - 2 28ο 5· '5 2 *6'
4.264 66 5-157 82, 102
4-267-8 122 5 · ι 6 ο- ι 114 . ι6 ι
4-273 254 5-191 88 n.óg, 100
4-2Q3 ιοο 5.222 96
4.363 ι6ο 5.243-61 21 η. 48
4371 102 5.264 8ο ο. 47
4 -4 ' 6 —24 ι ι 8 η. 1+4 5.288-9 2 5 4 0-52
4 ·4 5 5 ~ 6 ι ι ι 8 η. 144 5 -3 ο8 2 4 4
4-4 8 1 102 5 -3 * * '8+
4-493 122 η. 155 5 3« 2 246
4 -5 0 2 24 5 5 -3 2 6 245
4-512 =45 5 -3 3 3 - 5 3 « 5 5 1 - 4 6
4 5 6 1 - 7 0 3 ° 9 η· 52 5 -3 3 3 - 5 2 2 3 ο. 1 5
4 562 24 4
5 34° 254 η. 53
4-563 254 0-52 5 -3 4 2 86
4.567-8 145 5 -3 5 6 - 7 252 0 -4 9
4-572 87
5 -3 8 7 245
4 -5 * 1 157 η. i
5 -4 4 7 - 9 276
4 5 8 4 185 5.4 56 -8 140
4.6 53-6 279 η. 3 8 5 -4 5 8 7»
4 ·6 6 ι—2 go
4.676 8 7 -8
5.467-9 '4 3
5 -4 6 7 34
4.678 252 ο. 49
5.469 144
 «-

3^0 Ju d e x o f Passages
S .47 8 I I I 9 .2 3 1 80 n. 47
6 . i i 16 6 n. i 5, 17 0 9 .255 56 η. 3. 50. 297. 3 i 8 n . 6 i
6 .13 - 4 1 «07 0 2 8 3 -4 254 n. 52
6.20 19 9 n. 84 9 .3 0 1 74 n. 29
6 .16 0 - 9 35 9 .30 2 6 5. 12 0
6 .258 86 9 3 1 6 8 7 -8
7 .1 0 18 3 n .5 1 0-333 236
7.36' «23 9-362 92
7.64 —5 259 n. 60 9 36(1-7 125
7 . 1 1 9 9 3 n .8 4 9 .3 7 2 - 3 23(1-7
7 .18 2 92 9 4 1 4 12 5
7 .19 6 - 8 2 5 1 9.422 252 n. 49
7 .19 7 =52 n. 4S 9 423 58
7 .2 2 4 1 1 3 9-445 89
7 .2 5 7 2 23 n. 15 0-454 92
7 .2 6 3 124 9 -4 5 ·8 - 9 3 1 1 n -5 4
7 .2 8 3 78, 14 0 9 4 6 7 245
7 .289 236 9 5 1 5 195
7 .2 9 2 12 3 9 . 5 1 6 92
7 .3 0 9 - 10 88 n. 69 9 .5 2 3 -4 13 7 - 8 . 178
7 .3 1 8 236 9.524 1 1 3, 1 68
7- 333 04 n .8 5 9 538 1 1 2
8- 44-5 278 9 566 255
8.78 12 0 10 .9 8 ιο ί n. 105
S . 1 34—6» 11Λ n. 1 36 10 .13 4 255
8 .16 8 —S i 6 6 -7 10 .13 5 - 9 272
8 .18 5 9 1 n. 79 10 .14 3 88 n. 7 1
8 .2 2 7 -8 2 5 9 11.6 0 1 o. 1 60 I I I
8.266—366 268 10 .16 3 104. 152
8 .2 7 0 - 1 272 10 .17 4 - 5 '6 9
8 2 7 3 8 7 -8 i o. 190 168 n. 20
8 .30 2 272 10 .19 8 102
8.304 03 10 .2 39 -4 0 1 1 8 . 124
8 .326 94 n. 85 10 283 1 18 n . 144
8 .350 i n 10.284 202 n. 86
8 .36 1 270 η . 17 10 .2 8 5 17 7 n. 38
8 363 So n. 47 10 .30 9 S7
8.388 86 10 .3 6 3 194
8.40 S -9 154 10 .3 7 9 88 n 7 1
8 .53 0 160 10 .39 0 1 18 η. 1 14
8.547 124 10 39 3 -5 1 18 η . 1 14
8.548 88 n. 68, 12 5 n. 159 10 .456—65 92 n .8o
10.463 10 1
8 559 1 2 1
8-570 252 n 40 10.469 2 6 6 9 .5
9 .2 5 —6 168 n 20 10 .4 70 160
9.52-6*1 24H 10.484 81
9 .58 272 n. 24 10.4H 5-6 160
9 .6 1 245 10 .4 9 3 - 5 1 9 3 . 2 0 6 , 2 1 5
10 .4 9 4 - 5 85
9 r>3 255
9.7I 1 1 2 10 4 9 5 148, 199
9 . 7 5 88 n. 7 1 10 .5 0 8 - 15 3 1 2 n 103
9.143-4 167 10 .5 12 192
9 .2 2 0 -2 33 10516 201
 Index o f Passages 3<>r
1 0 . 5 2 1 1 48, 1 9 4 i i . 1 7 1 2 4 1 n . 23
1 0 - 5 2 ^ - 9 201 1 1 . 1 7 5 *83 n. 5 1
10.53ft '9 4 1 1 .1 7 7 122 ·
IO .5 52 -5 144 1 1 . 1 8 3 ifto
1 0 . 5 5 2 - 3 88, 1 8 9 n . 6 5 1 1 . 1 8 4 1 8 3 n. 5 1
10.5 59 -fto 1 5 0 - 1 1 1 . 1 9 7 244
■ o.5fto 178 1 1 . 19 8 - 9 259 n.6o
io.5ft2 95 n.8ft i t . 200-1 13 2
i i . 1 3 - 1 9 i ft7 -8 11.2 0 3 130
1 1 . 1 3 254 n. 52 11.2 0 5 221
1 1 . 1 & 272 1 1 .2 0 6 —22 2 0 2 - 5 , 2 1 0 - 1 1
1 1.2ft—4 1 1 9 1 —2 1 1 . 2 0 7 - 8 1 4 8 , 199, 204, 2 0 5 n. 9 1
1 1 . 2 9 148, 194 1 1 . 2 1 3 - 4 224
1 i .3Λ—4 1 189 i i .2 1 3 1 9 s y
1 1 . 3 7 201 1 1 .2 1 8 - 2 2 7-9
11-43 193
1 I .219 1 1 2
1 1 .2 2 0 I I I
1 1.49 194
1 1 . 5 0 94 n . 8 5 1 1 .2 2 1 I32
1 1 . 5 1 - 8 3 201 I 1.2 2 2 148, 199
1 1 . 5 1 —4 22ft 1 1.22 3-4 2 1 0 - 1 1 , 2 1 9
■ 1 . 5 1 - 2 189, 198 11.2 2 5 -3 2 7 2 17 - 8
1 1 . 5 2 - 4 164 II.2 2 5 2 2 ·
1 1 . 5 2 18ft n. 58 I I.2 2 8 -3 2 193
1 1 . 5 3 li f t II.2 3 8 -5 3 2 74 11.2 9
1 1 . 5 4 - 8 2 1 7 n. 5 1 1 . 2 9 s 266 n. 5
1 1 . 5 4 185 11.3 0 1-4 18 0 ,2 2 4 11.15
1 1 . 5 7 16 7, IQ2 n - 7 i 11.3 0 7 1 1 3
1 1 / 1 2 - 7 2 198 1 1 . 3 2 4 - 5 2 5 9 n. 60
1 1 . 6 5 204 1 1 . 3 3 7 66, 88
1 1 . 7 2 - 8 189 1 1 . 3 7 2 244
11.7 2 -5 18 8 ,2 8 3 • 1.38 5-6 221
1 1 . 7 3 185 11.38 7 -4 6 6 2 18 . 2 2 1-2
1 1 . 7 5 - 6 185 1 * . 3 8 7 —9 22ft
1 1 . 8 3 189, 1 9 5 1 1 . 3 8 9 244
1 1 .84—5 220 11.3 9 0 193, 2 15
1 1 . 8 8 - 9 19 3 1 1.3 9 1-4 194 -3
1 1.90 -1 19 2 -3 11.3 9 2 -3 14 8 ,2 0 5
1 1.90 220 1 1 . 3 9 2 199
»I.93-4 »02 11 -3 0 3 - 4 I · 2 . 17 6
1 1 . 9 8 - 9 193 1 1 . 4 0 9 254
1 1 . 1 0 S 17ft n. 3 6 1 1 . 4 2 0 80
1 1 . 1 2 5 109 1 1 .4 2 5 - 6 184
• l . l 3 4 ” * 248 1 1 . 4 2 8 87 11.6 3
1 1 . 1 3 9 25a n .4 9 1 1 . 4 4 5 86 n. 61
1 1 . 1 4 0 - 4 103 1 1 . 4 5 4 87 n. 63
1 1 . 1 4 1 230 11.4 6 4 154
11.4 6 7 -5 4 0 2 1 8 ,2 2 2
-

11.14 6 -5 4 2 15
--------- ----------- ------------

1 1 . 1 4 6 - 9 18 9 n . 6 7 , 193 11.4 7 5 -6 19 2-3

1 1.I5 0 210 11.4 7ft 19 4 -5
I I I 5 3 - 4 193 1 1 . 4 9 1 194
1 1 . 1 5 5 lf '7 1 1 . 5 1 6 201
1 1 . 1 6 0 202 n. 86 1 1 -5 3 4 1 8 3 0 - 5 1
1 1 . 1 7 1 - j 255, 258 n -5 3 7 270
362 Index o f Passages
11.5 3 8 -9 198 13.32 0 102
11.5 4 1- 6 5 8 η. ι8, 2 18 . a a i 13 .3 3 2 101
" • 549- 5° 174 η .29, i 87 η .62 13.33R 160
11.549 18 1 η. 4s 13 .3 8 1 12 4 -5
11.5 6 7 222 -3 13.386 252 n.49
11.5 6 8 - 626 218 13.427 18 1 n. 48
11.5 6 8 - 600 222 -3 14,59-60 2 10 n. 99
I t . 591 96 14.95 >60
11.6 0 1- 4 223-4 1 4 .1 1 0 254 n. 53
1 1 .603-4 267 1 4 . 1 1 1 88
11.6 0 5 193 i 4 »34 ' 34. 13 7
1 1.626 227 n. 21 14 .16 2 160
11.6 3 2 -5 224 • 4·'75 35 n -Ro
11.6 3 3 ‘ 93 14 .17 7 118
12 .8 - 15 '8 6 14 .17 8 -9 279 n .36
12 .9 - 10 159 14 .17 8 88
■ 2.26 252 n. 49 14.207-8 166, 169—70, 249
12 .5 1 254 n .5 2 14.207 234 η. 6
12.67—8 163 «4 * ' 3 '37
■ 2.67 1 16, 1 1 7 n. 139 14.262 96
12 .8 1 16S n. 20, 2 0 1- 2 n .85 1 4.274 244
12.9 2 25s 14.426 134 , 13 7 . 15 2 -3 Π.41
12 .12 7 -4 1 219 14.433 88 n.69
1 2 . 1 3 1 —3 2 72 Π. 2 2 14.490 88 n.68, 122 n. 155
12.157 245 1 5 .3 1 1 81 n. 48
12 .16 2 254 n. 52 1 5-433-4 s8o
12 .17 5 “ 2 ' 5-435 445
12.179 254 n .5 2 ■ 5 .25 0 -1 223 n. 15
12.279 -8 0 100 15 .2 6 1- 2 5 8 11.7 , 174 n. 19
12 .32 3 273 15.300 245
12 .329 160 ■ 5.329 100 n. 100
12 .33 8 2 36 -7 15-354 138 n- '5
12 .34 2 244 15-379 97
12 .35 0 59 15 .4 0 9 -11 258 n. 59. 259 n. 60
12 .37 4 -8 8 2 7 3 11.2 6 15.470 82 n. 52
12 .3 7 5 2 7* n· 22 15-477-8 458
12 .37 6 103 n. 1 12 15.522 183 n .5 1
12 .37 9 -8 1 272 -3 16.39 '6 0
12 .3 8 3 -6 273 16.64 252 n.49
1 2.383 168 n. 20 ' 6.73 65
12.400 80 16.89 »76 n- 35
12.408 80 16.92 9 1
12 .4 14 >32 16 .10 3 1 79 n. 44
12.426 80 16 .12 7 ,l,°
13.40 66 16 .14 3 -5 1 60
13.59-1)0 248 16 .16 9 254
13.80 237 16.243-4 17 6 1 1 .3 5
13.8 5 80 16.269 269
13 .16 3 158 η. 2 16 .3 10 102
13 .2 4 0 -1 1 68 n. 20 16.375 498 n .3 3
13-245 34. 98 n .9 3 16.379 252 n.49
13.255 123 16 .4 2 1-3 252 n. 49
13.30 3 252 n. 49 16.476 1 1 2
 Index o f Passages
19 .3 28 1 1 3
17-57 ' 5·* n .4s
17.66 87-8 19 .3 2 9 -3 4 10 1 n. 10 1
17.82 254 . ' 9-350- * 85
17 .19 1 99 n.9 6 19 3 5 3 89·
17.23 6 130 19-377—8 ■ 03
17 .2 3 8 96 19 .454 10 4. 15 *
J7 .2 5 1 259 n .60 ' 9-479 >*4
17.32 6 241 n. 23, 24* 19 .4 8 5 -6 *78
19 485 84 n .56
17.454 66
17.465 87-8 19 .5 16 - 7 89
17.476 244 19 .5 24 66, 103
17.489 9 · 19 .5 30 10 2
17.49 1 87-8 19 .5 58 245
19 .56 2 19 9 y
'7 494 *39 0 .6 0
17 541- 5° ΐ 7 5 η · 3θ 2 0 . ·· 254
2 0 .18 - 2 4 6 7 -7 3
' 7-547 *45
17.565 100 n. 100 2 0 .2 0 -1 12 5
1 7.603 88, 91 n. 80 20.50 269
18 .3 112 2 0 .6 1- 8 1 2 5 9 0 .6 0
18.56 298 n. 33 20.68 16 7 n. 17
18.65 86 2 0 .71 86 n. 61
18.67-9 1 16 n. 136 2 0 .1 1 8 194
18.70 13 2 n .3 2 0 .13 1 86 n. 61
18 .9 0 -1 13 4 . 13 7 2 0 .18 4 8 7 -8
■ 8 .12 5 36 20 .19 6 252 n. 49
18 .16 0 -1 104 20.208 169
18 .2 0 1- 5 237 2 0 .2 17 - 8 H6—7
18 .2 0 2 - 3 *59 n. 60 20.228 86
18 .2 0 3 - 4 1 14 , i6 i 20.266—7 96
1 8 2 1 6 12 3 2 0 .27 1 ISS n .4 5
■ 8.220 88 n. 69 20.346 12 3
18 .22 8 -30 85 * 0-353 94 0 .8 5
18 .2 3 1- 2 103 * 0.355-7 1 1 3 . 15 0 , 2 27 -8
18.249 88 *o .355 «95
18 .2 5 1—2 1 1 7 η. 143 20.356 16 7 , 202 n. 85
18.275 2 10 n.Q9 2 0 .3 6 5 -6 12 4
18 .3 2 7 -3 2 105 2 1 .1 0 3 86 n .6 l
18 331 92 2 1 . 1 05 i oI
18.38 1 100 n. 10 1 2 1 . 1 3 1 195
18 .39 1 92 2 1 . 1 5 3 - 4 13 4
18.406 88 n. 68 2 1 .1 7 0 —1 13 4
19 .10 84 n. 56 2 1.2 8 3 ' i *
19 29 154 0 .4 5 2 1.2 9 5 - 3 0 2 2 8 0 11.4 1
1 9 .42-3 2 1 0 - 1 1 2 1.2 9 7 92
19 .12 2 92 2 1 .3 0 1 - 2 83 n. 52
19 -12 4 -5 " 7 n. 143 2 1.3 0 2 280 n. 41
19 .13 7 - 6 2 226, 252 n.49 *'•355 85
' 9- MS *46 21-377 94
1 9 1 5 3 160 2 1.3 8 6 15 4 n .4 5
19 .2 6 2 - 4 97 2 2 .14 88 n .6 9 , 254
19 .2 6 3 - 4 16 1 2*-33 *54 o. 52
19-307 160 2 2 .4 1 254 n. 52
19 .326 12 2 , 12 5 2 2 .5 8 -9 97
3<>4 Ittdex o f Passages
2 2 .6 0 245
2 4 .14 104
2 2.88 242
2 4 .20 -2 226
2 2.111) 137
44-42 244
2 2 .12 3 177
24.24-97 22O
2 2 . 2 1 8 1 7 7 n. 38 2 4 .28 -9 247
22.24 5 58
2 4 .31 241 n. 2 3. 244
2 2.29 8 104
44-34 446
2 2 .3 0 9 80 2 4 .35 -0 7 2 2 6 -7
2 2 . 3 1 7 244 24.6 3-S 4 18 6
2 2 . 3 2 5 245 44-63-79 162
2 2 . 3 3 0 245 4471 266—7
«-3 3 3 (>5 24.80-4 185
2 2 . 3 4 7 - 8 1 8. 278 2 4 .10 5 226
2 2 .3 4 7 2R4 n 49 2 4 .114 426
2 2.3 6 3 245 2 4 .12 0 226
2 2 . 3 8 2 245 2 4 .12 1- 2 0 2 226
22.38R 1 3 0 2 4 .12 7 255
2 2.39 8 1 5 4 1 1 . 4 $ 2 4 .12 S -4 S 252 n. 49
2 2 . 4 1 3 >4*· 2 4 .13 5 446
2 2 . 4 1 6 244 2 4 .14 3 160
2 2 .4 4 3 - 4 134 44-153 454
22.444 2 6 6 - 7 2 4 .1 85 80
2 2 .4 6 3 - 4 174 n 29 2 4 .18 6 - 90 164 . 183
2 3 . 1 3 10 2 2 4 .18 6 - 7 226
23 1 7 2 37 2 4 .18 7 1 1 A
2 3 .3 0 88 n. 68 2 4 .19 1—202 226
2 3.9 7 1 0 ° n - 10 1 24.261 82 η. 52. 88-9
2 3 . 1 0 3 100 24.264 i 6 q
2 3.124 -5 1 2 5 0 .1 6 0 24-295-6 «83-4
2 3 . 1 6 7 100 2 4 .3 18 - 19 I JO
2 3 . 1 7 2 JOO 24.344 266 n. 5
2 3 . 2 0 9 - 1 0 85 n. 58 44 345- 5° 14 1- 4
2 3 . 2 1 6 99 n. 96 44 345 138 n 13
2 3.2 3 0 lo o n 10 1 24 348 144. 14 7 n. 33
23 2 4 1 —6 267. 273 n . 2 5 44 349 78
23.246 272 n . 2 1 2 4 .4 13 —14 466
2 3 .2 7 2 109 44 435-6 179 6 44
23.296 2 25 n. 17 24.442 86
23.322-5 219 44 449 Ko
2 3 .3 2 2 192 24.471 244
23.32H tot n 105 24.474 8« η. 6H, 125
a j-334 445 24.479 122
2 3 .3 3 6 223 n. 15
2 3 .3 6 1 86 n. 61 Hom eric Hymn*-
2 4 . 1 - 204 2 2 5 - 8 It. Aft. 186 123
24 1 - 1 4 IAft It. Aft 440-2 25H n. 59
2 4 .f —1 1 227—8 /1. Af>. 448 12 3
4 4 .1 - 5 ' 5° . 4 13-4 A. Aft. 435 3 18 n 61
4 4 3 - 4 457 A. O r . 1 6 - 1 7 179 η. 45
2 4 .5 - 9 193 It. O r . 24-9 272 n. 23
2 4 . 1 0 192 A. O r 59-89 272 n. 23
a4.1t 227 A. O r . 175 92 n .8o
24.14-43 426 A. O r . 450 10H
 Index o f Passages 3^5
A. C er. 482 10 2 n. 7 1 fr. 1 2 8 .1- 4 3 1 2 n. 57
A. M ere. 42 1 14 fr. 191-2-3 30 4 -S
A. M erc. 4 3 -6 12 3 fr. 1 9 3 .1 - 2 299. 30 4 -5
/1. M ere, i iQ 1 14 fr. 196 3°S
/1. M ere. 530 ιο ί n. 105 fr. 196a. 4 4 -5 3 3 1 6
Λ. Λ /err. 4 51 2 8 4 11.4 9 fr. 196a. 52 1 10 n. 12 4
A. Λ/eri. 572 227 n. 2 1 fr. 2 13 297
A. Ke«. 2 3 7 -8 19 4 -5 fr. 287 276 n .3 1
A. Ke«. 254 12 3
/1. 28 12 5 nn. 1 6 1 —2 A risieas (Bem abé):
fr. 1 1.4 297 n .2 9
Ailesfiata elegaicn (\V):
fr. 14 253 n 5 1 Aristophanes:
/>«·· 304 3°4 n -43 J
Aeschylus: L y t . 550 98 n .9 4
/iff· 76 -7 114 n . 13 2 R un. 704 297 n .2 9
.•li,*. 106 1 14 n. 13 2 R a n . 837 24 n. 57
Wff 14« 33 n. 7
/ iff . 276 15 5 n. 45 Bacchyhdcs (S-.M ):
/Iff. 4 16 - 7 19 6 1 1 .7 7 3.9 0 -2 3 15
/ iff «30· - * 98 n .9 3 5.5f>-175 301-3
d m . co—60 2 33 n .4 9-3« 3*5
C/»o. 8 1 - 3 9Q n .88 ■ 1 . 2 0 -1 298 n. 33
Clin. 43Q 165 η. 1 1 ■ 1.4 7 -8 300
Enin. 1 - 7 266 n. 8 «3·5«~2 3 «5
Per i. 1 1 5 91 n .7 8 «7-ÜJ 315-6
/*erj. 496 99 n. 97 fr. 4.72 19 2 n .7 1
K en. 59 2-852 2 16 n .2
P eri. 830 86 n .6 3 D erveni papyrus:
P I ' 209—10 266 n .8 cols. I l l , IV 290
P I ' 370 9 * n . 79 co l.V 3 1 1 n. 55
Ρ Γ 1008 98 n. 94
Snf>ft. 407-9 88 n. 67 Em pedocles (K U S ):
Tli. 13 5 -4 2 268 n. 1 1 fr. 401 290 n. 15
fr. i f i i . i N 233 n. 3 fr. 407 290 n. 15

Alcaeus (L-I*): Epic C ycle (llernahé):

fr. 3 .6 1- 2 237 n. 15 L illie lli.n l, fr.3 1S 7 n .6 2
fr. 38Λ 233 n .4 A’otfi, fr. 12 17 5 η . 32
fr. 117 (h ). 3 4 -5 299 η. 35 Tltebtii.l, fr o 223 n. 15
fr. 338 2 99 n.<>7 Tiliiiinmeteliy, frs 7—8 272 n .a i
fr. 347 92 n .8 o , 98 n.94 f/«ir Proeliis' summitries see Oener.tl
In.lex miller ‘Epie C ycle')
Anacreon (P):
fr. 36 0.3-4 299 Euripides:
A le. 2 3-7 16 6 n. 13
Anaxim enes (K U S ): A le . 47 i6 6 n . «3
fr ,i6 o 288-9 A le. 259-72 166 n. 13
Helen 560 2 33 11.4
Apollonius Ithndiua: H em el. 40 87 11.66
/Ir« 4 1 6 6 5 - 7 260 n .6 3 III·' 1205 1 33 11. 4
i/ip/t. 303 98 n. 94
Archilochus (\V): fi.S o i N 13 7 n. 11
366 Index o f Passages
Heraclitus: Th. 746—8 178 n. 40
fr». 229-32 K U S 289 Th. 748-57 266 n. 5
fr. 231 K U S 304 Th. 756-9 235
fr. 247 K U S 289, 290 η. 15 TU. 758-66 236 n .9
fr. U&74 D -K 289 η. ι ι TU . 758—9 166 n. 13
fr. U78 D -K 289 n. 12 Th. 764-6 233
fr. U96 D -K 289 n. 10 Th. 784-6 267 n.9
fr. U 107 D -K 289, 300 Th. 8 0 7 -10 2 12 n . 103
Th. 839-43 179 n .42
Herodotus: Th. 886-90 125 n. 16 1
2 .12 3 *90 n. 15 77t. 9 0 1-3 266 n .5
♦ • '3- · 4 * 93-4 Th. 904-6 2 5 1- 2 n.48
4 3<> *93 Th. 9 10 33 n.76
4 94" * *93 Th. 9 33 -7 2 6 1, 268
5.92 2 16 n. 2 Th. 945 268 n. 10
7.6.3 223 η. 1 5 Th. 950-5 223 n. 15
9-93 *72 n.24
Hesiodic fragments (M-\V):
Hesiod: fr. 2 32 .17 -24 196 n.78 . 223-4 n. 15
O p . 7 s 266 n. s fr. 76.7-8 3 18 n. 61
O p . 16 7 -7 3 *91 fr. 204.84 154 η. 45
O p . 284 199 n.83 fr. 204.99-104 2 9 1-3
O p . 358-60 99 fr. 2 0 4 .118 174 η. 28
O p . 465 17 8 - 9 11.4 1 fr. 204.129 292
O p . 539 -40 285-6, 3 16 n .6o, 319 fr. 2 0 4 .13 7-4 3 *9*
O p . 684-7 3 18 fr. 2 0 4 .1 40-2 199 n.83
O p . 760—4 265 fr. 260 196 n. 78
O p . 823 1 01 n. 105 fr. 343 125 n. 16 1
S c . 1 5 1 - 3 3 18 n .6 1 fr. 358 196 n. 78
S c . 156 -9 234 n.6
S c . 17 3 3 18 n. 61 Hippocrates:
S c . 226—7 167 n. 18 V ie l. 86 3 1 1 n. 55
S c . 248-57 260 n. 63
S c . 2 5 4 - j 3 18 n. 61
Hipponax (\Y):
S c . 264-70 242 n. 25
fr. 39-1-3 'V 300
S c . 395 33 n. 76 fr.* 17 5 80 n 47
S c . 4 26-32 1 17 n. 140
T h . 1 16 -2 5 236 n. 9
T h . 12 6 -5 3 268-9
Ibycus (I')
77t. 140 260 n .6 1 fr. 298 12 5 n. 16 1
7 7 1.2 11- 2 5 235-6 n. 9 fr. 3 17 a 304 n .43
T h . 2 1 I 246 n. 34
fr. 3 17 b 304, 3 12 n. 57
T h . 2 12 235
T h . 2 18 - 9 * 5 1 —2 n .48 Inscriptions (H):
T h . 225 2 7 1 n . 20 No. 47 296
T h . 266-9 267 n.9 No. 76 299
T h . 273 270 n. iS
T h . 33 7 -4 5 274 n. 28 Ion (D -K ):
7 7 1 .5 1 7 - 1 9 178 η . 40 fr. Ü4 290 η. 1 5
T h . 678-86 179 n. 42
T h . 706-8 258 n. 59 Mim nerm us (\V):
T h . 7 3 6 -8 10 179 fr. 2 .14 301 n. 38
77t. 736 -4 5 * 1 2 n. 103 fr. 2 .5 -7 *53 n.5«
 Index o f Passages 3^7

Parm enides ( K R S ) : fr. 12 9 294. 309 n. 52

fr. 288.17 IS4 n .4 5 fr. 13 0 294
fr. 1 3 1 b 45, 294, 3, , _ l 2 · 3*4- 5
Pausanias: fr. 13 3 294. 3 °8 n. 50
2 .10 .12 235 n. 8 fr. 1 3 3 .1 - 5 3 0 9 -10
2 .3 1.2 235 n. 8 fr. 13 7 =94. 309 *>· 5=
5 .18 .1 235 n. 8
5.19.(1 260 n.63 Plato:
6.6.3 18 8 11.6 4 C ta . 400c 290
G rg. 493=1-3 =9°
Lg. 8910-8960 287 n. 6
Philolaus:
fr. U 14 D -K 291 L g. 899b 262 n.68
frs. 450-5 K R S 291 Tim . 78b ff. 291 n .^ 7

Pindar (M ): Sappho (L -P ):
lu h . i .68 150 n .3 5 , 306-7 fr. 2 2.3 13 3 n. 4
lu ll. 4.37—42 265 n. 4 fr. 4 2.1 99 n.9 6
lull. 4 .7 1 30 6 fr. 55 199 n .8 3 . 205 n -9° . 300
lu h . 5.46-7 3 14 n. 36, 303 n .4 1
Nein. 1.47 306-7 fr. 62.8 3 0 1, 3 1 2
Nem. 3.1 3 14 fr. 13 2 301 n. 37
N ein. 3.2(1—7 3 14
Nem. 7 .10 2-4 3 1 3 - 1 4 Sem onidcs (W ):
Nein. 8.44 307 fr. 1 . 1 3 - 1 4 301 n. 38
N ew . 9.32-3 306 fr. 4 ιο ί n. 10 5
Nein. 9.38 306
Nein. 1 0 .8 0 - 2 l i o n . 1 2 4 Sim onides:
O l. 1.3 -4 3'3 no. 12 P E G 27 n. 65. 296
O l. 2.56-80 294, 308-9 no. 15 P E G 300
Ol. 2.69-7O 3 I2 no. 70 P E G 30 1
Ol. 2.89-90 3 14 fr. 508.2 P 86 n .6 2
Ol. 6.55-6 3 15 fr. 531-4-5 P 19= n . 7 1 , t 99 n -83
Ol. 8.39 306—7 fr. 553 P 296
Pytli. 1.47-8 306 fr. 2 0 . 1 1 - 1 2 \V 299
Pyth. 3.40-1 306 fr. 2 1 W 3 0 1, 304, 306, 3 12
Pyth. 3.60-2 306. 3 1 2 - 1 3
Pyth. 3 .10 1 306-7 Solon (\V):
Pytli. 4 .12 2 305-6 fr. 13.4 6 297
Pyth. 4 .159 307 fr. 24.8 30 1 n. 38
Pytli. 8 .8 1-2 3 15
Pyth. 8.95-7 3 1 1 n. 54 Sophocles:
P yth . 1 1 .20-2 307 A n t. 20 87 n.66
fr. 33d .! 250 n. 43 A n t. 529 1 3 3 n. 4
fr. 52d_5o-i 3 1 3 n .58 £ / .2 4 2 - 3 1 5 5 0 . 4 5
fr. 5 2 Γ 12—15 3 14 O C 6 2 1- 3 = 16 n. 3
fr. 521(A).10 - 14 3 1 2 - 1 3 O T 17 4 -8 5 n .7
fr. 72 91 n. 78 TV. 9 -2 3 276 n. 3 1
fr. 94a 309 n. 51 fr. 7 25 N 33 n .7 7
fr. 9 4 2 .14 -15 3 15
fr. 1 1 1.5 3 1 1 n. 54 Stesichorus (P):
fr. 12 3 .1- 9 306 fr. 18 5 272 n. 2 1
fr. 12 3 .1 3 13 frs. 19 2 -3 19 6 η. 78
fr. 12 7 3 13 fr. 2 33 12 5 n. 16 1
 In d e x nƒ P a s s a g e s
Terpamirr (Γ)·
^ 7 7 - S agft. i i a n. 57
Ir h<»7 j u n. 57
oo»> jo i n. jS
000—10 av9
T h a l« (KRSl 0 10 305
Ir .9 1 afta n.ftS 0 17 j o i n j8
1C14 301 n 38
rDi«i|tnn toao-30 3 1a n. 57
aij 31a n 57 «c?o»-h aoft. j i a n .57
aao-jo 319 n.fu 1077 107 n. 17
M 3* « jo i n iS 1 124 301 n. j S
45a n>a n 71
47a 91 a 78
5JO joo T i r t w j i fW)
55 7 3 7 n fcj fr 10 14 a<J7
5*17-0 aas fr. 10 rT -i8 »O*. j e j -4
*·40~<ο jrft fr. 1 1 4-5 >«7
fr. ia iS *07
fr ia jfc j e i n 3*

Xcnnphmcr (1V|
ft 7»4 200 ft 1 5

mm
 GENERAL INDEX
Authors o f secondary literature eilerl in footnote! are not included

Alum s 293 234- 5. *37 n. i6, 243-4. 253 .

Aborigines 37 257-9
nbsliAct ideas 7 4-7, 109—15 , 1 1 9 —26, .imhrosia 33 n. 76
J J l - 5. * 64-5 Am phimedon 164, 2JL(i
Ac'lullea 5 n.7, 56-8, 62, 63 n.6, 66 Analyst» on Homer 32 n 74. 46 n· 3 9 .
n 16, 74, 8 1, 88, 90, 9 2 -7 passim, *37 n. 5. 2 1 5 - 2 0
100 n. 1 0 1, 1 57 n. 2, 1 6 0 - 1, 162, anuptyxis 86 n. 60
18 1 - 3 , 185, 206-7, 2 0 8 -10 , 246, Anaxagoras 288—9
248, 15 2 n. 49, 253. 254, 274 -6. Anaximenes 288—9
280-82 Andromache 10 5 —6. 14 0 -2 . l 6 i t
tliaile o f 192, 193, 197—8. 222. 181-2
2 15 -7 anger 00
uil)rclivct 15 9 11.5 ire also bile
Areles 272 animal«, deaths of 1 3 1 , 1 5 2 —3
nrßis 260—1, 266 anthropology, theoretical 8. t»i, 76
Aegisthus 1 7 2 11.2 6 ire a ls o Frazer, L è v y -Brühl, pritniri-
Arneus 1 96—7 Vism
Aeschylus: anthropom orphism Ch. 7 esp.
Antmirnmim 1 9 6 1 1 7 7 231-9. 243-53. 259-63; Ch. 8
riychinluiin 5 n. 7 passim
uireriinii 66 Anticlcia 250 n 60
a Ilets ion to 174 11.29 shiule of 7-9, 202—5, 2 10 - 11. 215,
iifirrlifc, lee lilysiuni, Hades, Isles of 2 20-1
■ lie lllcal, I’lmliir, slmdes, U nder- aorist 24g η. 40
vvorltl Aphrodite 260-7
Aßuiiiciimon 8-9, 63 11. 6, 75—6, 90, and Ares, 208, 272
• 83 11. 5 1, 187, 2 6 1, 273, 280-2, Apollo 96, 156, »57 n 2, 165, 106-7,
307, 308 * 33 . 447 . 257-9. 27g. 306
simile ill 184, I93-5, 202, 205, Apollonius 17 5-6
2 1 1- 2 , 2 13 - 7 A ibm an, t . 43
ter ii fin lliim e i, Iliad atchacology 4. 8
Mirem V mill function, mental 6 6-73, t r il im 157 —9
1 19 - 16 AtvhiU’hui 276 η % ti
Λμοιιηι sH, 14 7 Cologne Iraginrnt 316
nil j MK 9 Aie» 10, 3 4-5, i n n. t j6, 147 it. 36,
ns deity 236 it. 9 466- 7. 260-72. 377-8
Alsu I (8, i t s imh· Aphrodite 108, 272
A|»s 8 9, 94, 95 n 86, 140, 146, 186 Aiittiirduii 12. 1 1 6 - 1 7 , 1 1 5 n »7. 156
II 60, 187 6 57
simile III 222 A i m !»·.»« i ») \~4
ΛΙ· 3· •Ihm » i I(» II 10 A i titoplianr» ol 74 η to,
tillri'Hiv 4 (·Η • «5 I* 17
<tlhi»lvr lt«ii|)Mi»ur I f»H- / 4« 1 7 1 4 , aitnmii, im»K«» on ifta-i, 167 n 9
370 General Index
arrow 13 7 . 15 3 - 4 . 3>4 lost in groaning 104-6
Artemis 257-9 lost in swoon 10 4-6, 139 -4 3
articulation, working definition o f 30 lost in death 55-60, 1 1 3 . 12 9 -3 8 ,
Astcropiaeus 275 130 -8 , 14 7-56 , 203-4, 240
Ate 280—84 post-Homcric 296-8, 302—3
Athena 167 n. 18 . 176 , 10 7-8 , a to. regained after swoon 14 0 -3
223 n. 15 , 260. 270, 279 n .3 8 flying to Hades at death 14 7 -5 6 ,
Atlas 178 n. 40 15 7 -8 , 169, 17 2 -8 , 205-6, 2 1 4 - 1 5 .
Atossa 2 16 n. 2 2 3 1. 2 6 1- 3 , 276 -7, 284, 3 18 n .6 t
Augustine, St 4 0 -1 brec2e 144-7
autonomy, psychological 41 n. 16, see also wind
fu -3 Brem m er. J . 43-4
ict alio intervention, divine Briseis 66 n. 16
bronze 237
ha 5-6 bulls 1 3 1 , 15 3 , 276 n .3 1
Bacchylides 3 0 1—3 burial, see cremation, funeral, inhuma­
balance 28-9, 2 5 5 -6 tion
bats 5 n .4 , 19 3, 227-8, 304
battle-fury 269 -72, 277-8 Caland systems 89 nn. 73, 75, 102
beard 35 n. 106, 159 n. 5
beasts 83-4 Calypso 223 n. 15
tee aho lions cases:
bee-keeping 93 n. 81 accusative 7 1, 1 17
Biblical scholarship 107 n. 1 18 dative 7 0 -1
Dickel, E. 46 genitive 7 0 - 1, 15 7 n. 1, 16 3, 19 1 - 2
bile 9 2-7 Cassandra 3 1 2 —3
birds 5 -7 , 1 5 1 - 6 , 19 3, 304 Castalian spring 3 14
blond 75, 87. 90, 91 n .78 , 1 0 9 - 1 1 , Castor 1 1 0 n. 1 24
1 3 5 —ft. 1 7 3 , 2 4 2 . 2 7 0 Caswell, C . P. 81
offered to the dead, 189 n .6 7, 19 3, catalogue poems 2 18 n. 6
2 15 , 2 1 6 - 1 7 Catholicism 8, 1 1 —■ 2
bonst 14 9 -50 , 16 8 -7 2 , 18 2 -3 , 247 cattle 176
body (living) 3 7 . 53, Ch. 4 passim, o f the Sun 272-3
esp. 75-9 , 1 1 5 - 1 9 , 285-6 causation 277—82
post-1 lom cric 3 1 5 - 1 9 Chantraine, I’ . 34
body-soul dualism 3, Ch. 2 passim; Chapman. G . 28 n. 66
6 0 ,6 1, 109—1 1 2 , 1 1 5 —9, 1 2 6 , Charites see Graces
12 9 -30 , 20 5-7 cheese-making 99
in post-1 lom cric G reek, Epilogue choral schools 24 n. 59
paisim, esp. 2 8 7 - 9 5 ,3 1 2 - 1 6 Cim m eria 167-8
in Pindar 308—12 Circe 118 , 206, 2 15 , 2 19 , 272
in Hesiod 3 1 7 - 1 9 Clous. D . B. 68
libhm e, J . 46 Clitus 223 n. 15
bones 13 2 , 1O0 Clytemnacstra 98 n. 93, 184, 307
brain 7 3-4 coldness 14 4 -7
brunch 34 -5 colour terms 87 n .66, 286 n .2
bravery 90 see also purple
breast Ch. 4 paisim, esp. 7 3-9 concept, working definition o f 30
breast-feeding 93 n.82 consciousness Ch. 4 passim
breath: post-Homeric 299-305
as life 42—7, 55 -6 0 , 84 in Pindar 3 1 2 - 1 4
inhaled into lungs Ch. 4 passim, contradiction, tolerance o f 2 14 —15
esp. 75-88 , 10 6 -7, 1 10 , i l l cooling 14 4-7
 General Index 37«

corpse 34. 6 1, « 16 -7 , 1 29 -3 °. 15 7 - 6 5 . division, mental 6 5-6 , 68 n. 20. 78,

2 8 5 -* 8 1 - 2 , 10 3
as clay 15 7 -8 , 28g n. 10 , 296 D odds, E . R . 49. 68
decay o f 1 1 2 , 16 0 - 1, 1 6 2 - j dogs 67. 16 5 , 1 7 1 - 2 . «75-6
mutilation o f 96, 16 5 -6 , 17 0 -2 , Donne, Jo h n 3, 48-9
D oppelgänger 38 n .6 , 45, 46
«75- 6. 185
and afterlife 190—3, 2 0 0 - j, 207—15. doublcncss 2 7 -3 0
2 19 -2 5 , 226 dream 19 7—8, 198—200, 3 1 1
cowardice 95 n. 87, 10 3—5, *47 as deity 197 n .8 2 , 266
cremation 7 -9 , 162, 18 5—9, 203 drinking 69, 88, 9 1—2. 98 n. 94, 10 5,
culture and lexicon 28fr—7 304
curse 205 n. 90. 300 see also drunkenness, wine
cutting 2 3 1 - 3 drowning 59
C ycle, Epic 175 n .32 drunkenness 9 1 - 2 , 289
Aethiopis 5 n .7 , 233 n .4 dual num ber 256 n. 57
L illie Ilia d 8-9, 17 2 n .26 , 187 D ürkheim , Em ile t o n . 23
Thebaid 223 n . 1 5
Tiiauamachy 272 n. 2 1 Earth 15 7 —8, 178—80
Cypselus, Chest o f 260 n .63 see also G aia
eating 69, 88
ecstasy 293“ 4
Darius, ghost o f 2 16 n. 2 education, G reek 24 n. 59
Dawn, as deity 265 n .4 , 267, 272 Egyptian religion 5-6
n. 2 1 , 274 n. 27 Eleusinian lore 307
day 244 n .30 Eliot, T . S . 22 n. 52. 23
death: Elpenor 144 n .3 0 , 1 5 0 - 1 , 164, 188—9,
as bond 2 5 4 0 .5 2 198, 2 0 1, 2 1 5 , 2 1 7 n. 5, 283
as darkness 1 3 1 , 166—8, 2 40 -3, 283 Elysium 6 n. to, 145
as fog 242, 264 em balm ing 1 8 7 0 .6 1
as deity 1 6 6 , 2 3 1 - 5 ,2 3 6 0 . 9 , emotion:
2 + 3 -5 °. 258. 259-60, 2 6 1- 2 . as coldness 98-9
264-5 as fluids C h. 4 passim, csp. 88—100
from Artem is and Apollo 257—9 as garm ent 91
narration o f 239 -4 1 as m elting 97-9
deceit 88 as hardening 98—100
decision-making 65—6 as w arm ing 97—8
see also intervention, divine as sw elling 9 0 -9 7, 10 6 -7 , 12 0 - 1
Deimos 268 Post-H om eric 299-300, 3 0 3 -5 ,
Deiphobus 184 -5 3 0 5 - 6 .3 12 - 14
Delphi 3 14 Em pson, \V. 23
Dernodocus 268 Endym ion 196 η. 78
Dervem payrus 29t Enkidu 2 16
Descartes, R . 40—1 Enyalios 269 η. ι6 . 270 η. ι8
despair 88 n. 7 1 Enyo 270 η. ι8
dew 3 3 -4 , 98. 16 1 epic tradition C h. 1 passim, 3 1 7 - 1 9
diaphragm 77 n. 38 epithets 1 7 - 1 8 , 19 n. 39, 63. 64, 267
digamma 1 7 6 0 .3 6 n. 9
digestion 9 1- 2 see also form ulaic language
Diomedes 2 7 1 ,2 7 8 Erebus 2 0 1 n .8 5 . 236 n .9
Dionysius T h rax 1 3 3 0 . 4 ctym oldgy, see roots
Dionysus, dism em berm ent o f 3 10 Eum acus 258
Dioscuri 180 n. 46, 223 n. 1 5 eitphemia 243
jrr also Castor, Polydcuces Euphorbus 247 n. 36
372 General Index
Euripides, Alcestis ι6 6 , 1 3 2 η. i gender:
Eurycleia 83 n. 53 shills in composition 192—3, 226
E urytu s 259 n. 60 Gestalt 20-1
Euthvm us 18 8 11.6 4 ghosts 74- 5, 148. 162, 165 n. 1 1 ,
Euxantios 3 1 3 η. 58 <87-8, 19 3, 2co—2, 206-9, 208—10,
exhaustion 140, 14 3 , 14 4 -7 , 19 4 -5 2 1 1 - 1 j , 307
see also 1‘ atroclus
fate 2 3 1 - 2 , 2 34 , 246, 2 5 1 - 3 Gilgam csh 2 16
fear 2 7 -3 0 , 99 η. 96, ιο ι η. 10 5. gods, disguised as mortals t97, 27t,
102-/», 120 275-6
see also cowardice gods 1 1 0 - 1 1. 15 5 -6 , 162. 232 n. 3, 234
feast 18 3 n.6, 259 n .6o, 264-5. Ch. 8
hg-juicc 99 passim
see alto intervention, divine
fipara etymologica 29, 82—3 n. 52. 83
gold leaves 3 10 n. 53
n S 3» 10 3 n. 12 , 183 n. 5 «, 280
Gorgon 224 n. 15 , 260
n . 4 1 . 290 η. 1 6
Graces 266, 268 n. 10
fire 91 n. 79, 1 ■ 1, 258 n. 59
Grassrnann's law 80 n. 48
and crem ation 18 5 —7
grave-marker 184, 18 5, 187 n .6 t, 196
and war 20
n .77
extinguishing o f 94 n. 85
grief 9 0 -1, 10 2-6
fish 17 1 n. 22
as cnfccblcment too, 160
salted 18 7 n. 61
groan 78. 99 n.96. 10 3-4 , I39 “ 43
folly 82. 1 2 0 -1
of death 56 n. 3, 130 —2. 15 2 —3
as dissipation to t—6, 120
gullet 134 . 13 5 n. 7
see also Ate
form ulaic language 15 - 2 2 , 3 1 , 63—·».
llad cs Ch. 6 passim, 2 3 1, 290
79, 85 n. 89, 10 7-8 , 138 n. 12 ,
as deity 1 5 7 n. x, t66 n. 16, 167
139 n. 16, 1 5 1 —2, 159 -6 0 . 174 -S
n 18. 17.8-9, 233 n. 4
n .3 0 , 17 6 -8 , 19 2 . 2 0 7 -8 , 239
location o f t66-8, 178-80
n. 18
and funeral 180-9, at <—1 5. 226-7,
doublets in, 65, 1 2 1 , 134 . 13 7 . 206
282-4
n. 92, 209 n .9 6 , 2 4 1—3 journey ro 13. 12 9 -30 , 137 -8 ,
virtual 9ynon>ms 31 n .7 2 , 6 3-6. 79,
14 7-56 , 166-70, 172-9 0 , 276-7,
89, 241 282-4
periphrasis 69, 74 n. 28, 1 10 , 174
journey to, in rhetoric, 13 2 , 138,
n. 29, 177 n. 38. 2 4 2 - 3 178, 179-80
ErHnkcl, Hermann 6 1—3
journey to, post-Homeric 3 0 1- 3
F rate r, J . 37-8 name of 157 n. 1
freezing 98—9 geography o f 189. 2 0 1—2, 2 1 2 - 1 3 ,
Krisle, H. 34 222—4, 227, 236 n.9
frost 98-99 darkneis of 166-8, >92 n .7 1, 2 0 1-2 ,
• Ernst, Hubert 23
2 1 1 . 2 19 -2 0 , 225, 283
fruit, ripening o f 93 n .8 j
putrefaction in 192
funeral 16 3 -4 , 1 8 0 - 9 ,2 1 1 - 1 5 , 2 2 6 - 7 ,
llaiiisw orth, j. I). 18 -19
233 bands 247, 270
see alia Hades, journey to
Harmony 268
Heaney, Seamus 23
G aia 157 n. 2. 266, 268-9 head, 7 3-4 , 17 3 -8
Ganym ede 223 n. 15 heart 79, too
gasping 146 beating o f 104-6
see also groan Hebe 2 13 n. 15
genealogy and myth 268-9 Hector 34, 58, 96, 10 8-9 , 1 3 4 - 5 ,
 General Index 373

130 -4 0 , 15 7 - 8 n. 2 , 159 . >6«i blindness o f 25-6

162, 16 3, 16 5, 179—80, 182, 18 5, H om er, Iliad:
187 n .6 1. 244- 5. * 4* . 249-50. battle scenes 238-9 nn. 18 —20
270 · Proem 12 9 -3 0 , 14 9 , 169, 1 7 1 ,
death of 129- 3° . *34. *47“ 56. 173-8
*57-8. 1 7 2 - 8 , 2 1 4 - 1 5 , 2 2 8 ,2 4 0 W rath o f A chilles 9 2 -7 , 280-2
n. 19 . 2 3 1. 2 6 1- 3 , 26 4 -5, 28 3-4 . Kpipolesis 2 12 n. 102
302. 304 Doloneia 4 n .t
Hecuba 13 5 . 2 5 9 11.6 0 arisleia o f Agam em non 16 9 -7 2 ,
Helen 65 n. 12 , 223 n. IS . 247 n .3 6 , 17 3 - 6
270. 282 D eception o f Zeus 236—9, 259-60
phantom o f 196 η. 78 Shield o f Achilles 2 3 4 -5 . »49. » 5° .
Helio» 272-4, 277 260
Hephaestus 246, 266—7. 268, 279 A pology of Agam em non 280 -2
Hera 34. 12 3 . 2 37 -8 , 259 n .6o, 273 T hcom ach y 17 8 -9 , 258, 274
Heracles 306, 3 15 Brittle with the R ise r, 2 74 -6
katabasts of 2 16 , 2 18 , 2 33 n. 4, H om er, Odyssey:
301-3 Nekuia 1 5 7 0 . 1 ; ■ 8 8 -22S passim
journey to T ro y 236 tone of 190 η. 69
hebt with Achelous, 276 n. 31 Second Nekuia 150 , 164, 166,
in Hades 2 18 , 222—4 2 2 5 -8
apotheosis of 7 n. 13 , 223 n. 15 deaths o f suitors 239 n. 17
epic of 236 n. 10 ending of 225 n. 17
Heraclitus aS8-9, 290 n. 15 honey 87, 92—3
Hermes 150, 166. 227, 237 η. I I , honour 183 n . 5 1 , 184
257 H orae 266
hero-cult 216 horse 1 3 1 n. 1
Hesiod i 17 n. 140, 166 n. 13 , 178 Housmnn, Λ. E. 22
n 40. 179. 235 n. 9, 2 6 4 - j n. 2. Hundrcd-hnndcrs 2698-9
266 n. 5, 268-9, 285-6 . 3 1 S - 1 9
Hcaiudic Catalo/pie o f If'omen 174 iconym 3 1 - 2
n. 28, 196 n. 78, 2 18 , 223 n. 15 , Idom eneus 249
2 9 1-3 . 3·8 n .6 t im age, working definition o f 30
I lesiodic S liitld o f HeracUs 1 17 Indo-European 6 n. 12 , 30, 4 3 -4 . 79
n. 140, 167 n. 18 , 234 n-6, 2 4 1 1 « alto roots
n. 25, 3 18 n .61 inhumation 7 -9 . 185 n .5 6 . 187
Hcsychius 14 1 n. 22, 14 2 —3 n. 27 inspiration, poetic 3 1 2 - 1 4
I liero 306 rre also M use
I lindu myth 7 n. 12 , 44 n. 29 interactive imagery 10 7-9
i n alto Vedas intercourse, sexual 34, 243 n. 28, 267,
Hippocratic corpus 1 4 4 0 .2 8 274 n. 29, 3 16
Hippodamas 13 1 intervention, divine 6 1 —3, 66 n. 16,
Hipponium , tablet from 290 n. 16 69-70. 84, 2 77-8 2
I littite funerals 185 η. 56 introspection, 57, 66—9
lliltite language 187 n .6 | post-1 lomeric 304, 306, 3 1 2 - 1 4
holiness 1 1 0 - 1 1 poetic, in I'indar 3 1 2 —14
I lom rt: Inuil 286
definition o f corpus 4 n. 2 invisibility, enp o f 167 n. 18
and G reek culture 4 - 12 Iphimede 196 n. 78, 223-4 n· *5
sttotegies lor reading, C h. I passim, I n s 267, 279 n. 38
csp. 13 -3 0 Irish 79 n. 43, i l l n .2 7 , 13 4
and epic tradition 1 1 - 1 3 , 15 -3 0 iron too
linguistic trsnurces of 24-6 Isles of ihr West 14 5 n. 32, 2 9 1- 2 , 309
 374 General Index
John, T . 4 2-3, 63-4, 79 Aletis 125
j °y 97 M ichael, St 5 n .7
M iddle English 19 4 0 .7 4
halabatis 1 5 1 , 2 1 5 - 2 5 M inos 222, 3 15
K er 1 6 6 .2 3 1 - 2 .2 3 4 - 5 ,2 4 4 - 5 3 , m isery 10 2-4 , ·6 ι
2 55-6, 259-60 M oira, 2 3 1 - 2 , 2 4 1- 5 3 possim
knees 66 n. 16, 240 n .2 0 moon 160
seixing of 58, 276 M oros 246 n. 34
m ortality, allusion to 174
Laertes 14 1 , 160 mountains, 269
lambs 33-4 mouth 56, 59, 13 3 -4
lamentation 155 η. 45, 168—72 movement and word-m eaning 10 9 -15 ,
language, contemporary notions o f 18 148
language and world-picture 1 3 —15 , mucus, nasal 1 1 0
31-6 muscles 1 1 1 - 1 3 , 176—7, 195
lam a.r 5—6 see also limbs
Latin 9 3-4 n. 84, t i t n .2 7 , 134 M use 1 1, 1 7 - 1 8 . 2 6 -7, 2 3 1. 235 n. 8,
Lcvy-B ru h l, Lucicn 38 -9 , 45 n. 36, 62 262, 278. 3 14
n .4 , 76 n. 32 Mycenaean civilisation 5-6, 26, 184
lexical reconstruction 3 1 —36, 106—15 n. 52, 185 n. 56
Liddell and Scott 3 2 -3 , 3 4 -5 myth:
limbs 13 2 - 3 , 144-6, 19 4 -5 , 231 structural interpretation o f 9 - 1 1 ,
lion 98, 1 1 6 - 7 , 163 26-30
Lithuanian 79 working definition 13
liver 79 and language 13—14 , 3 1 - 5
Lloyd, G eoffrey 237 myth-m aking 148—56, 164, 172-8 ,
lots, casting o f 56, 105 n. 1 1 6 1 2 1 1 —15 ; C h. 7 passim, esp. 2 3 1 —2,
lungs Cli. 4 passim, esp. 7 5 —86, 10 6 -7, 238-9, 255-6. 257-9 , 2 6 1- 3 , Ch. 8
129 -4 7 passim, esp. 276-84
punctured 13 5 -6 see also nouns
Lycaon, 169 -70
N agler. Μ . N . 20-1
M cC arthy, M ary 1 1 N agy, G . 19 . 21
madness 1 1 1 n. 127 narratology 235 n. 7, 240 n. 22
manhood 12 9 -3 0 , 158 see alto allusive language, rhetoric,
marrow 1 1 4 , 3 10 η. 54 synoptic language
medieval art 1 1 nasal infix 80 n.48
M eleager 16 n .3 3 , 94, 96, 3 0 1—3 necromancy 2 16 -7
Memnon 5 n. 7, 233 n. 4 nehuomanteion 2 15 —25
M em ory 268 Neoptolemus 270
M enelaus 9 7-9 , 12 2, 14 0 , 15 8 n. 2, Nestor 27, 65, 96, 120. 149, 17 2 n. 26,
172 n. 26, 196 n. 77, 254 n. 52 1 7 5 .1 9 5 . 258
in Elysium 291 night 167 n. 17
M entor 279 n. 38 as deity 2 35, 236 n .9 , 266
M crkclbnch, R. 2 18 —19 N iobe 158 n. 2, 259 n. 60
Mesopotamian myth 6, 17 8 n .4 1 , 2 16 , nouns 1 0 9 - 1 5 ,2 3 1 - 2 ,2 4 3 - 4
265 n. 3 and myth-making C h. 7 passim, esp.
metamorphosis 118 , 124, 15 7 - 8 n. 2 2 3 1- 5 . 2 5 1- 7 . 2 6 1- 3 ; Ch. 8 passim,
o f gods 6 -7 , 155 -6 . 274 -6 esp. 264-5, 269-74. 279-84
metaphor 3 2 -6 , 75, 88 n .6 7 . 9 1, 94 and cultural unities 3 1 - 5 , 285-7
n .8 5 , 10 7 -9 , 267 collective 158 η. 2
cognitive metaphor 109 n. 1 1 2 in apposition 158 -60
metempsychosis, see reincarnation N uer 286
 G eneral Index 375

O ccam 's razor iz , 2 19 Persephone 15 7 n. 1 , 179 . 2 0 2 -3 , 2 2 1 ,

Ocean, as deity 145, 266, 274 η. 28 224 n. 15 , 3 1 0
O dysseus 7, 29, 58, 59, 67, 78, 85 personification, tee anthropom orphism
η. 58, 95 η. 86. g6, 10 2. 1 1 0 . 12 2 . phantom 19 5 -8 , 2 2 3—4
>25. · 34 . * 37- 8. 142- 3. ' 78 , 18 5 . Phem ius 18 , 278, 283
191- 3. '9 8 , 201- 5, 2 ΐ ο - ι >. Philolaus 291
215-25 passim, 244. * 46. 255. 27° . Phobos 266, 268
27&, 278 Phoenix 16 n .3 3 . 6 2 -3 , 94. 95. 96.
Oenomaus 159 2 7 8 -9 , 280
O lym pus 266 η. 5. 267 P h rixu s 307
politics οΓ 2 j6 , 2 3 7 -9 . * 59. 2 6 1 - 3 , pin ak el 12 η. 27
266-9. 269-77 passim Pindar 4 5, 2 9 4 -5 , 3° 5-*4
Omans, R . II. 75-77 O lym pian 2 30 7 -9
Onomacritus 223 n. 15 Threnoi 30 7, 30 9 -^ 2
oracles o f the dead 2 16 —17 on the afterlife 308—12
oral theory 15 - 2 2 pine-tree 87 n. 65
see also formulaic language pirates 297
Orion 222 plague 258
orphan 167 n. 17 planning 12 2 , 12 4 - 5 , 2 5 1 - 2
Orpheus 293 plants 3 4 - 5 , 10 8 n. 2 1
O rphic lore 288, 2 8 9 -9 1, 2 9 3, 294 ripening o f 9 3—4 n .8 4 , 98
Otto, W . 45-6 reaping o f 108 n. 1 1 9
ownership 66 n. 16 Plato 4 1 , 287-8
poetry, contem porary notions o f
Tadel, Ruth 39, 77 22—26
Tage, D. L . 2 18 —19 pollution 165
Pandarus 279 η. 37 l ’olydeuccs 1 1 0 n. 12 3
Panic, as deity 266 Polyphem us 13 7 —8
paradeigmata 1 6 0 .3 3 Pontos 26S—9
parataxis 2 14 —15 Poseidon 15 6 n .4 6 , 17 8 -9 , 254 n .5 2 ,
Paris 100, 10 3, 179 265 n. 10 , 274 n. 29
Parry, M ilm an 15 , 17 —18, 19 , 63—4 possession, divine 269
passion, sexual 84, 90, 96, 104 η. 1 1 3 , Prcsocratics 288—9
304- 5. 306 P riam 84, 16 5 , 282
pathos 169—72, 240 n .2 1 p rim itivism 3 7 -9 , 4 3. 45 n. 36, 49, 62
paths of song 284, 3 1 2 —14 nn. 4, 5 , 76, 189 n. 68, 2 1 0 n .9 8,
patriotism 296, 297-8, 300 260 n. 6 1
Patroclus 13 5 , 159, 162, 247—8 P ropertius 7 -8 n. 13
death of 12 9 -3 0 , 13 4 , 14 7 -5 6 , prophecy 150 , 17 5 n. 30, 2 1 3 , 228,
15 7 -8 . 17 2 -8 , 2 1 4 - 1 5 , 228 , 240 2 4 7 -8 , 250 , 2 6 1—2
n. 19. 2 3 1 , 2 6 1- 3 , 26 4 -5. 2 8 3 -4 , Proteus 1 1 8 n. 14 2 , 14 5 , 29 1
302. 304 psychic unity 1 1 5 —19
ghost o f 7 4 -5 . t8 7 -8 , 2 00 -2, 20 6 -7, purple 87 n. 66
208—10 , 2 16 , 249, 2 5 3 , 277 Pythagoras 293
Paul, St 41 Pythagoreanism 2 8 8 ,2 8 9 - 9 1 ,3 1 0
Pausanias 260 n. 63 P ython , M onty 14
Peleus 95
Penelope 85 n .58 , 86 -7, 97, 10 4 , 1 1 7 rage 7 5 -6 , 8 0 - 1 , 90
n. 14 3 , 1 6 1, 2 19 , 2 37, 252 n. 49 rain 169
perfect tense 8 4 -5, 14 2 -3 n. 2 7, 204 rainbow 267
Periander o f Corinth 2 16 η. 2 rashness 10 2 -4
pericardium 77 n. 38 razor's edge 27—30
periphrasis, jee form ulaic language recklessness 82
376 General Index
Regenbogen, O. 46—7 semen 33 n. 78, n o , 243 n. 28
reincarnation 290—5 shades of the dead 27 n. 64, 19 1—215
in Pindar 3 0 7 - 1 2 p a u im , 210—25
religion and literary narrative Ch. t contrasted with corpses 163-5
p a s sim , esp. 9 - 1 3 ; 232 n. 2, 235, and cremation 186-9, 203-5
251-2 as remnants 194—5
Rcshcp 258 n. 59 as images 195—8
Resurrection of the Body 8 n 14. 11, feebleness of 112, 148, 194“ 5. 207
48-0 mo\ement of 148. 198-205,
rhetoric 59, 107-0. 137 -8. 149-5*. 220-25
188—72, 17 3, 1 79-80, 186 nn 58, mental life of 74-5 n. 30, S4-5, 193,
60. 2 3 4 -5 . 2 4 5-50 253. 255 . 208-7
257—9. 280-1 indeterminate nature of 200-5
rib* 135 travelling to Hades 150
rivers 8 0 - 1 , i l l . 1 1 2 , 176 see a lto corpse, ghosts, lladrs
as cods 274-*) Shakespeare. \V. 9 n. 19. 14. 22-3
R o b e , T h e (Orphic poem) 291 n 17 shaman 2 9 3 —4
Rohde, E. 4 4-5 shame 102, 178—80, 185
roots 29, 33 n 76. 7Q n 43. 80 n 47. shepherd 108
8f» n. 6o. 99. 1 1 1 n. 27, 123 η. $6, shields. Hutnrric 26
1 3 1 η. I , 1 4 t n.22. 14 4 -7 . 180-1 ships 82 n. 51. too, 123. 136
n 7, 187, 193 n. 72 n. 18, 188 Sicvcrs-Egcrton law 167 n. 17
n.20. 193 « * 72 . 195 n. 75 . 205 sighing 104-8
n.9 1, 2 3 1 - 2 see also groaning
see a lsa fig u r a etym o lo g ic a sight, nature of 272
rope 254 n 52 similes. 28—ο. H1-3. 96-7. 97“*). 100.
Rout, as deit> 281, 268 108 n. 12», *23, 155-8. 227-8
Rumour, as deity 265, 288 Simon, Paul 41
rust 192 n 71 Simonides 298, 299-301, 304
R)le. G . 40 corpus defined 295 n. 27
sinews, tee muscles
sacrifice, 80 n. 47 Sisyphus 2 J3 n 4. 301 n. 3S
human 181 n 49. 184 n. 53. 2 1 7 - 8 Sicrp, at deity 188 n. 14, 235-9. 242,
n 5 2 57 .259 -80 , 264-5, 266, 287
Salmoxis 293 Smintheus 258 n. 59
Sanskrit 44 n. 29, 79. «· * n 27, 180 smoke 79-80, 92-3. 141, 148. 186
11.7 snake 199 n. 83, 292
Sappho 205 n. 90 sneezing 175-6 »1. 30
Sapir, E. 288 n. 2 Snell, II 1 1 5 -1 6 , 1 19
Sarpedon 135, 1 5 2 - J . 165. |66 n. 14. Sam te s 288 n. 7
187 n 61, 248-9 soliloquy 67-8
death of 232-4. 235-6. 259-60. Sophocle», T e a r h i nine 7 - 8 n. 13
2 8 1-2 , 270 soul, in post-Homeric Greek
Scamander 188 n 58. 274—5, 277 2 85-319 p a ssim , esp. 287-95,
scholia 5 n. 7. 175-6. 223 n. 15 300-1$
sea 80, 8 1 —3, 87—8 tee a lu i body-soul dichotomy
Seasons, tee Horae souls, weighing of 5 n.7
self, as concept 4 1 Sourvinou-Iriwood, Christiane 10 -11
self-rest mint 58, 95-6 space 242 n. 26, 244-5
semantic change 2 8 5-3 19 p a u im , rtp spear i n n. 1 26
3 *7-19 speech end mhulutinn B5-8
semantic reconstruction, fee nouns, spider 289 n. 1 1
words spinning and weaving 89, 2 5 1 - 3
 General Index 377
spiral composition 204-5 T iresias 85, 189 n .6 7 , 19 2, 206,
starvation 8 8 π · 7 Ι, 160 2 1 5 - 1 7 , 2 18 —20, 248
Stesichorus 196 η. 78 Tieanom achy 17 9 n. 42
Stevens, Cat 41 T itan s 269
storm, 80-3, 87. 102 nn. 108, 1 10 . 136 T ithon us 223 n. IS , 265 n .4 , 267
n. to T ity u s 222
strength l i t —13 , 17 6 —7 tortoise 1 1 3
Strife, ns deity 260, 2 6 t, 266 tragedy, language o f 24 n. 57, 39, 77
stubbornness 100 n. 36
stupidity 8ft, 102 transm igration, tee reincarnation
sun, see Helios T ro jan W ar, plan o f 174 n .2 8 , 2 9 1- 2
supplication 163. 27ft, 280 n. 42 T yd e u s 223 n. 15
swear 144—7 T y phoeus 179 n .4 2
swooning 13 1 n. t, 139 —43, 242 T y r o 274 n. 29 ^
ice oho breath T yrtaeu s 297-8
syllabic liquids 1 5 1 —2 n. 39 dating of 298 n. 3 1
syncretism, 257 n. 58
synonyms, lee form ulaic language udder 108
synoptic language ift8—72. 17 3 -4 , U nderworld:
243-4 G reek, ire 1lades
Alesopotam ian 6
taboo 243
Tantalus 222
Tartarus 16ft n. 13 , 178 n .40 Valour, as deity 266
'Pay lor, C , 41 vase-painting 5-6
■ cars I to, 1 1 3 - 1 5 , 161 Vedas 43—4
Telem achus 83, 10 3 , 1 ιο , 13 8 n. 12 . vengeance 1 8 4 0 .5 3
2 10 . 245 divine 18 5 , 188—9
tendons 1 1 1 —13 verbs and sem antics 1 0 9 - 15 . 2 4 3 -4
let alio muscles vom iting 13 9 -4 0
tense systems 286 tu b u re s 17 0 - 2 . 175 -ft
T erro r, as deity 261
Tethys 274 n. 28 war, see A res
Thales 2fi2 war-dance 268 n. 15
Themis 2fth, 268-9 weaving 89, 12 0 n 150
Theocly menus 58 n. 7. 12 4 , 150 , 228 weighing, ire balance
Theognis: west 16 8 11.2 0
corpus defined 295 n 27 W est, M . L . 285-6
Therm opylae 199 1». 83 W hitm an, C . II . 2 0 -1
Thessalian funerary texts 3 10 W horl, II L . 286 n. 2
Thesprntian oracle 21(1 n 2 wind 8 0 - 3 ,8 7 . i n , 1 1 2 , 14 2 - 3 , t 54,
T hetis 2ft2 n.ft7 199
thought Ch. 4 puuiMi, eip. 86-92, w inds ns gods 267 11.9
■ 19 -26 wine 9 1- 2 , 98 n.94
density of 89 wings 1 5 1 - 6
movement of 122-ft wisdom 85-8 , 12 0 - 1
redirection of 97 n.89 . 12 3 -4 words.
decision-mailing 6 5-6 m eanings of 3 1 - 6 , 3 9 - 4 1, 2 8 5-7
post· Homeric 30 3 -5 winged 15 3 - 5
Ί Ί ι nice 270 n. 17 wingless 154
threat 168 -72 world-picture Ch. 1 passim, esp. 9 -14 ,
T in inarm 272 -3 *S ~ j6
time 1 1 3 - 4 , 2 44 -5, 3 1 1 n. 54 working definition 30
 378 General Index
Yeiitj, \V. U. -10—41 Zeu» 34, 65, 13 5 , 165, 174 n. 28,
Youth, *» deity 223 n. 15, *67 1 7 8 - 9 ,2 3 3 ,2 3 8 - ^ ,2 4 7 0 .3 6 ,2 5 2
n. 49, 254 n. 52, 2 55-6 , 260, 267
Zenodotus 175 -6 n. g, * 7 3 . 28 o-2 , 2 9 1-2 , 308
- -
. -----
- .
L. -
....................
"
--------- ' “
~ '
L · · ----- --------