The Iliad of Homer · Homer
FOOTNOTES
The poet here changes the narration, and apostrophises the reader. Critics commend this figure, as the reader then becomes a spectator, and his mind is kept fixed on the action. In the following review of the army, we see the skill of an accomplished general as well as the characters of the leaders whom Agamemnon addresses. He begins with an address to the army in general, and then turns to individuals. To the brave he urges their secure hopes of conquest, since the gods must punish perjury; to the timid, their inevitable destruction if the enemy should burn their ships. After this he flies from rank to rank, skilfully addressing each ally, and presents a lively picture of a great mind in the highest emotion. The ancients usually in their feasts divided to the guests in equal portions, except they took particular occasion to show distinction. It was then considered the highest mark of honor to be allotted the best portion of meat and wine, and to be allowed an exemption from the laws of the feast in drinking wine unmingled and without measure. This custom was much more ancient than the time of the Trojan war, and we find it practised in the banquet given by Joseph to his brethren. [Diverse interpretations are given of this passage. I have adopted that which to me appeared most plausible. It seems to be a caution against the mischiefs that might ensue, should the horses be put under the management of a driver with whom they were unacquainted.—The scholium by Villoisson much countenances this solution.—Tr.]
The physician of the gods. Homer says nothing of his origin. He seems to be considered as distinct from Apollo, though perhaps originally identical with him. From the fact that so few mystical myths are introduced in the Iliad, Müller infers that the mystical element of religion could not have predominated among the Grecian people for whom Homer sang. Otherwise, his poems in which that element is but little regarded, would not have afforded universal pleasure and satisfaction. He therefore takes but a passing notice of Demeter. Müller also remarks, that in this we cannot but admire the artistic skill of Homer, and the feeling for what is right and fitting that was innate with the Greeks. [Vide Samson to Harapha in the Agonistes. There the word is used in the same sense.—Tr.] [This is a construction of λευκ ελεφαντι given by some of the best commentators, and that seems the most probable.—Tr.] This slow and orderly retreat of the Greeks, with their front constantly turned to the enemy, is a fine encomium on their courage and discipline. This manner of retreating was customary among the Lacedæmonians, as were many other martial customs described by Homer. The practice arose from the apprehension of being killed by a wound in the back, which was not only punished with infamy, but a person bearing the mark was denied the rites of burial.
The Simoïs and Xanthus were two rivers of the Troad, which form a junction before they reached the Hellespont. The Simoïs rose in Mt. Ida, and the Xanthus had its origin near Troy.—Felton. Ajax commences his exploits immediately on the departure of the gods from the battle. It is observed of this hero, that he is never assisted by the deities. Axylus was distinguished for his hospitality. This trait was characteristic of the Oriental nations, and is often alluded to by ancient writers. The rite of hospitality often united families belonging to different and hostile nations, and was even transmitted from father to son. This description is a fine tribute to the generosity of Axylus.—Felton [Euryalus.] Agamemnon’s taking the life of the Trojan whom Menelaus had pardoned, was according to the custom of the times. The historical books of the Old Testament abound in instances of the like cruelty to conquered enemies. This important maxim of war is very naturally introduced, upon Menelaus being ready to spare an enemy for the sake of a ransom. According to Dacier, it was for such lessons as these that Alexander so much esteemed Homer and studied his poem. The custom of making donations to the gods is found among the ancients, from the earliest times of which we have any record down to the introduction of Christianity; and even after that period it was observed by the Christians during the middle ages. Its origin seems to have been the same as that of sacrifices: viz. the belief that the gods were susceptible of influence in their conduct towards men. These gifts were sometimes very costly, but often nothing more than locks of hair cut from the head of the votary.
Diomede had knowingly wounded and insulted the deities; he therefore met Glaucus with a superstitious fear that he might be some deity in human shape. This feeling brought to his mind the story of Lycurgus. It is said that Lycurgus caused most of the vines of his country to be rooted up, so that his subjects were obliged to mix their wine with water, as it became less plentiful. Hence the fable that Thetis received Bacchus into her bosom. This style of language was according to the manners of the times. Thus Goliath to David, “Approach, and I will give thy flesh to the fowls of the air and the beasts of the field.” The Orientals still speak in the same manner. Though this comparison may be justly admired for its beauty in the obvious application to the mortality and succession of human life, it seems designed by the poet, in this place, as a proper emblem of the transitory state of families which, by their misfortune or folly, have fallen and decayed, and again appear, in a happier season, to revive and flourish in the fame and virtues of their posterity. In this sense it is a direct answer to the question of Diomede, as well as a proper preface to what Glaticus relates of his own family, which, having become extinct in Corinth, recovers new life in Lycia.
The same as Corinth. Some suppose that alphabetical writing was unknown in the Homeric age, and consequently that these signs must have been hieroglyphical marks. The question is a difficult one, and the most distinguished scholars are divided in opinion. We can hardly imagine that a poem of the length and general excellence of the Iliad, could be composed without the aid of writing; and yet, we are told, there are well-authenticated examples of such works being preserved and handed down by traditional memory. However this may be, we know that the Oriental nations were in possession of the art of alphabetical writing it a very early period, and before the Trojan war. It cannot, then, seem very improbable, that the authors of the Iliad should also have been acquainted with it.—Felton. The Solymi were an ancient nation inhabiting the mountainous parts of Asia Minor, between Lycia and Pisidia. Pliny mentions them as having become extinct in his time. It was the custom in ancient times, upon the performance of any signal service by kings or great men, for the public to grant them a tract of land as a reward. When Sarpedon, in the 12th Book, exhorts Glaucus to behave valiantly, he reminds him of these possessions granted by his countrymen. The laws of hospitality were considered so sacred, that a friendship contracted under their observance was preferred to the ties of consanguinity and alliance, and regarded as obligatory even to the third and fourth generation. Diomede and Glaucus here became friends, on the ground of their grandfathers having been mutual guests. The presents made on these occasions were preserved by families, as it was considered obligatory to transmit them as memorials to their children.
The employment in which Hector finds Paris engaged, is extremely characteristic.—Felton. This address of Helen is in fine keeping with her character.—Felton. [The bulk of his heroes is a circumstance of which Homer frequently reminds us by the use of the word μεγας—and which ought, therefore, by no means to be suppressed.—Tr.] Love of his country is a prominent characteristic of Hector, and is here beautifully displayed in his discharging the duties that the public welfare required, before seeking his wife and child. Then finding that she had gone to the tower, he retraces his steps to “the Scæan gate, whence he must seek the field.” Here his wife, on her return home, accidentally meets him. [The name signifies, the _Chief of the city_.—Tr.] It was the custom to plant about tombs only such trees as elms, alders, etc., that bear no fruit, as being most appropriate to the dead. In this recapitulation, Homer acquaints us with some of the great achievements of Achilles, which preceded the opening of the poem—a happy manner of exalting his hero, and exciting our expectation as to what he is yet to accomplish. His greatest enemies never upbraid him, but confess his glory. When Apollo encourages the Trojans to fight, it is by telling them Achilles fights no more. When Juno animates the Greeks, she reminds them how their enemies fear Achilles; and when Andromache trembles for Hector, it is with the remembrance of his resistless force.
Drawing water was considered the most servile employment. [The Scholiast in Villoisson calls it φυσικον τινα και μετριον γελωτα a natural and moderate laughter.—Tr.] According to the ancient belief, the fatal period of life is appointed to all men at the time of their birth, which no precaution can avoid and no danger hasten. This scene, for true and unaffected pathos, delicate touches of nature, and a profound knowledge of the human heart, has rarely been equalled, and never surpassed, among all the efforts of genius during the three thousand years that have gone by since it was conceived and composed.—Felton. Footnotes for Book VII: Holding the spear in this manner was, in ancient warfare, understood as a signal to discontinue the fight. The challenge of Hector and the consternation of the Greeks, presents much the same scene as the challenge of Goliath, 1 Samuel, ch. 17: “And he stood and cried to the armies of Israel;—Choose you a man for you, and let him come down to me. If he be able to fight with me, and to kill me, then will we be your servants.—When Saul and all Israel heard the words of the Philistine, they were dismayed and greatly afraid.” It was an ancient custom for warriors to dedicate trophies of this kind to the temples of their tutelary deities.
Nothing can be more spirited than the enthusiasm of Hector, who, in the transport of his joy, breaks out in the following apostrophe to his horses. He has, in imagination, already forced the Grecian entrenchments, set the fleet in flames, and destroyed the whole army. From this speech, it may be gathered that women were accustomed to loosen the horses from the chariot, on their return from battle, and feed them; and from line 214, unless it is spurious, it seems that the provender was sometimes mixed with wine. It is most probable, however, that the line is not genuine.—Felton. Homer describes a princess so tender in her love to her husband, that she meets him on his return from every battle, and, in the joy of seeing him again, feeds his horses with bread and wine, as an acknowledgment to them for bringing him back.—Dacier. These were the arms that Diomede had received from Glaucus. [None daring to keep the field, and all striving to enter the gates together, they obstructed their own passage, and were, of course, compelled into the narrow interval between the foss and rampart. But there are different opinions about the space intended. See Villoisson.—Tr.] [To Jove, the source of all oracular information.] Jupiter, in answer to the prayer of Agamemnon, sends an omen to encourage the Greeks. The application of it is obvious: The eagle signified Hector, the fawn denoted the fear and flight of the Greeks, and being dropped at the altar of Jupiter, indicated that they would be saved by the protection of that god.
This simile is very beautiful, and exactly represents the manner of Gorgythion’s death. There is so much truth in the comparison, that we pity the fall of the youth and almost feel his wound. [Ενικλαν.—The word is here metaphorical, and expresses, in its primary use, the breaking of a spear against a shield.—Tr.] [The following lines, to the end of this paragraph, are a translation of some which Barnes has here inserted from the second Alcibiades of Plato.] The simile is the most magnificent that can be conceived. The stars come forth brightly, the whole heaven is cloudless and serene, the moon is in the sky, the heights, and promontories, and forests stand forth distinctly in the light, _and the shepherd rejoices in his heart_. This last simple and natural circumstance is inexpressibly beautiful, and heightens the effect of the visible scene, by associating it, in the most direct and poetical manner, with the inward emotion that such a scene must produce.—Felton. Footnotes for Book IX: [In the original the word is—μελανυδρος—dark-watered; and it is rendered—_deep_—by the best interpreters, because deep waters have a blackish appearance. Δνοφερον υδωρ is properly water that runs with rapidity; water—μετα δονησεως φερομενον—See Villoisson.]—Tr. This is the language of a brave man, boldly to affirm that courage is above crowns and sceptres. In former times they were not hereditary, but the recompense of valor.
Instances of this sort might be multiplied to any extent, but the student will find it a pleasing and useful task to discover them for himself; and these will amply suffice to demonstrate the existence of that correspondence of spirit and manners between the Homeric and the early ages of the Bible history, to which I have adverted. It is real and important; it affords a standard of the feelings with which we ought to read the Iliad, if we mean to read it as it deserves; and it explains and sets in the true point of view numberless passages, which the ignorance or frivolity of after-times has charged with obscurity, meanness or error. The Old Testament and the Iliad reflect light mutually on each other; and both in respect of poetry and morals (for the whole of Homer’s poetry is a praise of virtue, and every thing in him tends to this point, except that which is merely superfluous and for ornament) it may with great truth be said, that he who has the longest studied, and the most deeply imbibed, the spirit of the Hebrew Bible, will the best understand and the most lastingly appreciate the tale of Troy divine.—H.N. Coleridge. [I have given this sense to the word Ζωροτερον—on the authority of the Venetian Scholium, though some contend that it should be translated—_quickly_. Achilles, who had reproached Agamemnon with intemperate drinking, was, himself, more addicted to music than to wine.]—Tr.
So called because Jove protects those who implore his aid. [Wrinkled—because the countenance of a man driven to prayer by a consciousness of guilt is sorrowful and dejected. Lame—because it is a remedy to which men recur late, and with reluctance. And slant-eyed—either because, in that state of humiliation they fear to lift their eyes to heaven, or are employed in taking a retrospect of their past misconduct. The whole allegory, considering _when_ and _where_ it was composed, forms a very striking passage.]—Tr. [She had five brothers: Iphiclus, Polyphontes, Phanes, Eurypylus, Plexippus.]—Tr. It was the custom for the murderer to go into banishment for one year. But if the relations of the murdered person were willing, the criminal, by paying a certain fine, might buy off the exile and remain at home. Ajax sums up this argument with great strength: We see, says he, a brother forgive the murder of his brother, a father that of his son; but Achilles will not forgive the injury offered him by taking away one captive woman. The character of Achilles is well sustained in all his speeches. To Ulysses he returns a flat denial, and threatens to leave the Trojan shore in the morning. To Phœnix his answer is more gentle. After Ajax has spoken, he seems determined not to depart, but yet refuses to bear arms, except in defence of his own squadron.
Footnotes for Book X: With slight alteration, Homer here repeats the verses that open the 2d Book, and ascribes to Agamemnon the same watchfulness over men that Jupiter had over the gods. Menelaus starts a design, which is afterwards proposed by Nestor in council. The poet knew that the project would come with greater weight from the age of the one than from the youth of the other, and that the valiant would be ready to engage in the enterprise suggested by so venerable a counsellor. Agamemnon is uniformly represented as an example of brotherly affection, and at all times defends Menelaus. [Σαυρωτηρ—seems to have been a hollow iron with a point, fitted to the obtuse end of the spear, for the purpose of planting that end of it in the ground. It might probably be taken off at pleasure.]—Tr. The dogs represent the watch, the flocks the Greeks, the fold their camp, and the wild beast that invades them, Hector. The place, position, and circumstances are represented with the utmost life and nature. [_Sable_, because the expedition was made by night, and _each with a lamb_, as typical of the fruit of their labors.]—Tr. It required some address in Diomede to make a choice without offending the Grecian princes, each one of whom might consider it an indignity to be refused such a place of honor. Diomede, therefore, chose Ulysses, not for his valor, but for his wisdom. On this point, the other leaders all yielded to him.
The heroes are well armed for their design. Ulysses has a bow and arrows, that he may be able to wound the enemy at a distance, and Diomede a two-edged sword. They both have leathern helmets, as the glittering of the metal might betray them to the enemy. [Autolycus was grandfather of Ulysses by the mother’s side.]—Tr. Making these military presents to brave adventurers was an ancient custom. “Jonathan stripped himself of the robe that was upon him, and gave it to David; and his garments, even to his sword, and his bow, and his girdle.” 1 Sam. xviii. v. These lines show how careful the poet always was to be true to nature. The little circumstance that they could not _see_ the heron, but only heard him, stamps the description with an air of verisimilitude which is at once recognized.—Felton. This passage sufficiently justifies Diomede for his choice of Ulysses. Diomede, who was most renowned for valor, might have given a wrong interpretation to this omen, and have been discouraged from proceeding in the attempt. For though it really signified that, as the bird was not seen, but only heard, so they should not be discovered by the Trojans, but perform actions of which all Troy should hear with sorrow; yet, on the other hand, it might imply that, as they discovered the bird by the noise of its wings, so the noise they should make would betray them to the Trojans. Pallas does not send the bird sacred to herself, but the heron, because that is a bird of prey, and denoted that they should spoil the Trojans.
Dolon seems to have been eminent for wealth, and Hector summons him to the assembly as one of the chiefs of Troy. He was known to the Greeks, perhaps, from his having passed between the two armies as a herald. Ancient writers observe, that it was the office of Dolon that led him to offer himself in this service. The sacredness attached to it gave him hopes that they would not violate his person, should he chance to be taken; and his riches he knew were sufficient to purchase his liberty. Besides these advantages, he probably trusted to his swiftness to escape pursuit. Eustathius remarks upon the different manner in which the Grecians and Trojans conduct the same enterprise. In the council of the Greeks, a wise old man proposes the adventure with an air of deference; in that of the Trojans, a brave young man with an air of authority. The one promises a small gift, but honorable and certain; the other a great one, but uncertain and less honorable, because it is given as a reward. Diomede and Ulysses are inspired with a love of glory; Dolon with the thirst of gain. They proceed with caution and bravery; he with rashness and vanity. They go in conjunction; he alone. They cross the fields out of the road, he follows the common track. In all this there is an admirable contrast, and a moral that strikes every reader at first sight.
It is finely remarked by Trollope, that, of all the points of resemblance which may be discovered between the sentiments, associations and expressions of Homer, and those of the sacred writings, this similitude is perhaps the most striking; and there can be little doubt that it exhibits a traditional vestige of the patriarchal record of God’s covenant.—Felton. [Quâtre-crested. So I have rendered τετραφαληρον which literally signifies having four cones. The cone was a tube into which the crest was inserted. The word quâtre-crested may need a precedent for its justification, and seems to have a sufficient one in the cinque-spotted cowslip of Shakspeare.]—Tr. [This seems the proper import of εγδουπησαν. Jupiter is called εριγδουτος.]—Tr. [The translator follows Clarke in this interpretation of a passage to us not very intelligible.] The ancient manner of mowing and reaping was, for the laborers to divide in two parties, and to begin at each end of the field, which was equally divided, and proceed till they met in the middle of it. Time was then measured by the progression of the sun, and the parts of the day were distinguished by the various employments. [ολμος.] [The Grecians at large are indiscriminately called Danaï, Argives, and Achaians, in the original. The Phthians in particular—Hellenes. They were the troops of Achilles.]—Tr. [Ανεμοτρεφες—literally—wind-nourished.]—Tr. In making Ulysses direct Diomede, Homer intends to show that valor should be under the guidance of wisdom. In the 8th Book, when Diomede could hardly be restrained by the thunder of Jupiter, his valor is checked by the wisdom of Nestor.
Diomede does not fear Hector, but Jupiter, who, he has previously said, will give the Trojans the day. [In the original—κερα αγλαε.—All that I pretend to know of this expression is that it is ironical, and may relate either to the head-dress of Paris, or to his archership. To translate it is impossible; to paraphrase it, in a passage of so much emotion, would be absurd. I have endeavored to supply its place by an appellation in point of contempt equal.]—Tr. No moral is so evident throughout the Iliad, as the dependence of man upon divine assistance and protection. Apollo saves Hector from the dart, and Minerva Ulysses. Homer here pays a marked distinction. The army had seen several of their bravest heroes wounded, yet without expressing as much concern as at the danger of Machaon, their physician and surgeon. [This interpretation of—μινυνθα δε χαζετο δουρος—is taken from the Scholium by Villoisson. It differs from those of Clarke, Eustathius, and another Scholiast quoted by Clarke, but seems to suit the context much better than either.]—Tr. The address of Homer in bringing off Ajax is admirable. He makes Hector afraid to approach him, and brings down Jupiter to terrify him. Thus he retreats, not from a mortal, but from a God.
The whole passage is inimitably just and beautiful. We see Ajax slowly retreating between two armies, and even with a look repulse the one and protect the other. Every line resembles Ajax. The character of a stubborn and undaunted warrior is perfectly maintained. He compares him first to the lion for his undaunted spirit in fighting, and then to the ass for his stubborn slowness in retreating. In the latter comparison there are many points of resemblance that enliven the image. The havoc he makes in the field is represented by the tearing and trampling down the harvests; and we see the bulk, strength, and obstinancy of the hero, when the Trojans, in respect to him, are compared to the troops of boys that impotently endeavor to drive him away. It must be borne in mind that among the people of the East, an ass was a beast upon which kings and princes might ride with dignity. Though the resentment of Achilles would not permit him to be an actor in the field, yet his love of war inclines him to be a spectator. As the poet did not intend to draw the character of a perfect man in Achilles, he makes him delighted with the destruction of the Greeks, because it gratified his revenge. That resentment which is the subject of the poem, still presides over every other feeling, even the love of his country. He begins now to pity his countrymen, yet he seems gratified by their distress, because it will contribute to his glory.
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