Hektor and the Beast
Similes in Iliad 12
This post is a continuation of my substack on the Iliad. All proceeds from the substack are donated to classics adjacent non-profits on a monthly basis. Last year this substack provided over $2k in charitable donations.
One might be forgiven for asking what I could possibly have left to say about Iliad 12. The big topics are the future discussion of the destruction of the walls around the Achaeans’ ships, the conflict over bird omens between Polydamas and Hektor, Sarpedon’s famous speech to Glaukos in the middle of the book about fame and death, and some amazing similes at the book’s end right before Zeus allows Hektor to break through the fortifications. But, even in merely listing these topics, I can imagine commenting further on how Polydamas interprets the omen, or on Zeus’ scales and his plan at the center of the epic, the series of apostrophes in the book that have not been addressed, the importance of a larger group of leaders with authority to conduct the war on the Achaean side, the weirdness of the two Ajaxes fighting together.
Structure of Iliad 12:
1-35 The walls and their future destruction
36-87 Achaean response to Trojan attack and Hektor; Polydamas’ first speech (don’t drive the chariots and horses across the ditch
88-174Trojan leaders, Asios ignores the advice
175-265 Bird omen and debate with narrative judgment
265-414 Ajaxes rally the GReeks, Sarpedon philosophizes with Glaukos
415-471 Similes: Farmers, Weaving Woman, Zeus tips the scales; Hektor breaks through the walls
There’s a lot going on in this book, but at the same time, not that much happens. The entirety of the action really amounts to the Trojans approaching the Greek fortifications and then one of them (Hektor) breaking through. But there is a lot going on. And much of it happens in the similes. It may be clear to anyone who has read a few posts here that I see similes as an important device to help us understand the structure and interpretation of Homeric poetry. If I have a Homerist-origin story, one particular moment that stands out is a conversation I had with Lenny Muellner in 2000 or so. Note, this is part of a book coming out in January (Storylife: On Epic, Narrative, and Living Things), so I will quote it as such.
When I was an undergraduate, exploring ideas for a senior thesis, I became fascinated by Homeric similes, especially those comparing heroes to people doing everyday things, as when the sides of the battle in Iliad 12 are compared to two men arguing over a boundary marker in their fields.[ Iliad 12.421–426.] I remember pouring out theories about how these comparisons were more sophisticated than animal comparisons only to be stopped by my advisor, Lenny, when I claimed it was obvious that complex similes arose out of simple ones. Lenny asked gently why it could not be the other way around, that simple similes—e.g. “Hektor was like a lion”—did not contain within them the potential of much longer ones. And, further, should not we distinguish between what an audience listening to the Homeric poems likely knew and expected from similes and how they developed over time?
This conversation remained with me for over twenty years. I take two essential lessons from it: first, not to forget the difference between the development of a thing (here a simile) and an audience’s experience of it; and, second, how the ecology of stories contains relationships and potentials far beyond what is immediately seen. To stay with the case of similes for a moment, let’s take an extended one from Iliad 12. As the battle between the Greeks and the Trojans rages around the wall protecting the Greek ships, two captains rally their troops:
So those two yelled out to encourage the Greeks to fight
And just as waves of snow fall thick on a winter’s day
When Zeus the master of all urges it to snow
On human beings, showing them what his weapons are like—
And he reins in the winds to pour it constantly
So that he covers the high mountains and the jutting cliffs
As well as the flowering meadows and men’s rich fields,
Snowing onto the harbors and the promontories of the gray sea,
Even as the wave resists it when it strikes. But everything else
Is covered beneath it whenever Zeus’ storm drives it on.
That’s how the stones fell thick from both sides,
Some falling against the Trojans, others from the Trojans
against the Greeks and a great din overwhelmed the whole wall.[Iliad 12.277–89.]
Here, the weapons falling down from the Greek wall on the Trojan attackers are compared to snow. To a modern audience, a snowfall might seem peaceful or even romantic, but in Homeric poetry snow is dangerous. The comparison in this simile conveys a blanketing and overpowering blizzard of conflict, made clearer to us from a typological study of Homeric language. But contrast this with a shorter snow simile such as “Hektor went forward like a snowy mountain.”[Iliad 13.754.] This simile creates a tension between what it says literally and the meaning it conveys based on associations unarticulated at this moment. It is not that Hektor moves like some abominable snowman or stands immobile like a wintry crag, but that the ferocity of his attacks is like the blizzards raging around a mountain. Ancient commentators add that Olympus, where the gods live, is snowy and mountains are big like Hektor, while snow is terrifying.
[…]
Lenny’s response to my assumptions about similes contains a kernel of a theory of narrative, of the importance of metonymy, and the crucial contribution audiences make to the creation of meaning.
Here’s an an exam type analogy: the tenors and vehicles of Homeric similes are to each other what external audiences and epic are outside of the poem. That is, they replicate pars pro toto the blending and movement that happens when audiences hear and begin to interpret the stories. Two things I would like to emphasize in the similes I have selected are the slippage or blending of detail between the domains of tenor and vehicle and the movement within the simile from the initial comparison to include a greater part of a world than one might expect.
Here are two examples from different books that I find useful
Iliad 6.503‑514
“Paris did not then linger in his lofty halls,
But, once he had put on his shining weapons, inlaid with bronze,
Then he hurried through the city, fully trusting his swift feet.
As when some cooped up horse, fully fed at the manger,
Breaks his bond and rushes out, luxuriating in the field,
Glorying in his habit of bathing in the fine-flowing river–
How he holds his head up high and his hair darts
Around his shoulders, and as he trusts in his glory,
His light limbs carry him to the hangouts and pasture of mares–
That’s how the son of Priam, Paris, went to the top of Pergamon,
Shining in his armor like the shining sun
Exulting, and his swift feet were carrying them….
Οὐδὲ Πάρις δήθυνεν ἐν ὑψηλοῖσι δόμοισιν,
ἀλλ’ ὅ γ’, ἐπεὶ κατέδυ κλυτὰ τεύχεα ποικίλα χαλκῷ,
σεύατ’ ἔπειτ’ ἀνὰ ἄστυ ποσὶ κραιπνοῖσι πεποιθώς.
ὡς δ’ ὅτε τις στατὸς ἵππος ἀκοστήσας ἐπὶ φάτνῃ
δεσμὸν ἀπορρήξας θείῃ πεδίοιο κροαίνων
εἰωθὼς λούεσθαι ἐϋρρεῖος ποταμοῖο
κυδιόων· ὑψοῦ δὲ κάρη ἔχει, ἀμφὶ δὲ χαῖται
ὤμοις ἀΐσσονται· ὃ δ’ ἀγλαΐηφι πεποιθὼς
ῥίμφά ἑ γοῦνα φέρει μετά τ’ ἤθεα καὶ νομὸν ἵππων·
The first example is about Paris finally dressed to go to war in Iliad. The verbal repetitions link the tenor and vehicle for us, and the effect of comparing Paris to a show-horse is comedic and pointed. But what I find interesting here is the bleedover of human-traits to the horse in the simile: the horse’s extravagant hair evokes as much a dandy princeling tossing his hair as that of a stallion. The bathing, the swift feet, the jaunting off for mares, all speaks to a horse compared to Paris as much as a prince compared to a horse. The bleedover is, I think, a species of the very kind of cognitive blending that happens when we absorb any narrative and try to process it through the language and experiences that are familiar to us.
Iliad 7.1-7
So he spoke and shining Hektor rushed out of the gates
And his brother Alexandros went with him. Both of them
Were truly eager in their heart to go to war and fight.
As when a god grants a wind to sailors who are just
Waiting for it, after they have worn themselves out
By driving their smooth oars into the sea, and their limbs have been wearied,
That’s how these two appeared to the Trojans awaiting [them].”῝Ως εἰπὼν πυλέων ἐξέσσυτο φαίδιμος ῞Εκτωρ,
τῷ δ’ ἅμ’ ᾿Αλέξανδρος κί’ ἀδελφεός· ἐν δ’ ἄρα θυμῷ
ἀμφότεροι μέμασαν πολεμίζειν ἠδὲ μάχεσθαι.
ὡς δὲ θεὸς ναύτῃσιν ἐελδομένοισιν ἔδωκεν
οὖρον, ἐπεί κε κάμωσιν ἐϋξέστῃς ἐλάτῃσι
πόντον ἐλαύνοντες, καμάτῳ δ’ ὑπὸ γυῖα λέλυνται,
ὣς ἄρα τὼ Τρώεσσιν ἐελδομένοισι φανήτην.
Simpler, but no less interesting is the simile from book 7: When Hektor and Paris leave the gates, we are not sure what the relationship between the tenor and the vehicle is: we start out, perhaps wrongly, thinking that they are the sailors but find out as we move through the simile that the tableau of them returning to battle is being seen by the Trojans, who are the at first unexpressed tenor to the simile’s sailors. Hektor and Paris are the favorable wind sent to relieve them.
This shifting, this re-blending of space through the unfolding of the narrative, aims our mental gaze first at the princes returning to war, then to an imagined vessel, then to the Trojans altogether, moving us through the narrative and to a new place in the tale. The details left unexplored may strike different audience members: the inversion of Trojans as sailors, the emphasis on the toil of their work, the implication of divine agency, so crucial throughout Hektor’s characterization from this moment until Achilles’ return. The simile refracts and bends, leaving listeners to recompose its meaning.
And here’s another one from book 12: (39-51):
“Because they were fearing Hektor, that powerful master of fear.
But he was fighting on as he had before, like a whirlwind.
As when a boar or lion turns in the midst of dogs and men,
Hunters, reveling in his own strength,
And they group themselves together like a fortification
To stand opposite him, hurling down a rain of spears
From their hands. But his proud heart never
Feels fear nor thinks of turning—it is his bravery that kills him—
Then he turns, testing himself against the barrage and the ranks of men.
Wherever he heads, the ranks yield to him.
So Hektor was rushing forward through the throng
Turning back to encourage his companions to cross the ditch.”῞Εκτορα δειδιότες, κρατερὸν μήστωρα φόβοιο·
αὐτὰρ ὅ γ’ ὡς τὸ πρόσθεν ἐμάρνατο ἶσος ἀέλλῃ·
ὡς δ’ ὅτ’ ἂν ἔν τε κύνεσσι καὶ ἀνδράσι θηρευτῇσι
κάπριος ἠὲ λέων στρέφεται σθένεϊ βλεμεαίνων·
οἳ δέ τε πυργηδὸν σφέας αὐτοὺς ἀρτύναντες
ἀντίον ἵστανται καὶ ἀκοντίζουσι θαμειὰς
αἰχμὰς ἐκ χειρῶν· τοῦ δ’ οὔ ποτε κυδάλιμον κῆρ
ταρβεῖ οὐδὲ φοβεῖται, ἀγηνορίη δέ μιν ἔκτα·
ταρφέα τε στρέφεται στίχας ἀνδρῶν πειρητίζων·
ὅππῃ τ’ ἰθύσῃ τῇ εἴκουσι στίχες ἀνδρῶν·
ὣς ῞Εκτωρ ἀν’ ὅμιλον ἰὼν ἐλλίσσεθ’ ἑταίρους
τάφρον ἐποτρύνων διαβαινέμεν· οὐδέ οἱ ἵπποι
This simile engages with the local and general contexts of the poem. It is hard to follow because it comes right on the heels of a short simile, whose comparison of Hektor to a whirlwind certainly has some resonance with Zeus as a sky god and his control over the action in this part of the poem. But in the shift to the simile, we find Hektor compared to what seems like a rather typical scene: a group of hunters (with dogs) corralling a single dangerous animal. Here the vehicle—the boar or lion amidst a group of hunters—is rather simple to unpack at first. Just as the Achaeans have built a wall around the ships, so too do the hunters form a kind of wall against the rampaging boar/lion who is attacking them. (Of course, we don’t know how the violent animal came into contact with the hunters, we only know that their natures are incompatible.)
It is the action and language of the simile that shows both the importance of the “bleedover” from tenor to vehicle and the characterization available from such a moment. First, the dangerous beast is never disambiguated. The boar-or-lion seems equally fit for the situation’s needs. Second, the peril in the simile really seems to be for the animal—the hunters retreat, but there is a dissonance between their actions and the panicked, frantic defense mounted by the Achaeans in the book. The simile evokes the larger narrative world where everyone knows that the boar/lion/Hektor will eventually fall. The choice of language to draw the tenor-vehicle pair together (here’ “like a fortification”, purgêdon) increases these ties, while the statement that “it is his bravery that kills him” would make any reasonable audience member think of Hektor.
That reasonableness is part of what I think is fascinating about this simile. We don’t know why the boar/lion is surrounded and under attack; but we can’t be surprised that it is doing so. I read a mismatch, something of a single or double dissonant note, sounding through the composition asking the audience to think a little longer about the aptness of the scene. As a single moment in time, it strains to evoke the collective nature of a group against a single assailant. Can it be true for Hektor or the beast that his bravery kills him if he has no choice?
There are other questions here. I think a simplistic reading of this simile—and others—would be that the traditional language doesn’t fit the scene as well as it could and the dissonance is accidental. But I wonder what it does to consider this an image-schematic clash that invites the audience to re-consider Hektor’s position at during this book. The key, I suspect, may be the stacking of similes: Hektor is both the trapped beast and the divine whirlwind. The conflict of images, rather than being sloppy or ill-considered, instead produces a deeper response in the audience, potentially yielding a deeper understanding of Hektor’s plight and all the troubles Zeus has to offer.
More on Iliad 12
Looking Up and Out: Starting to Read Iliad 12: The Achaean Wall, again; Kleos; Impermanence; Bird Omens; Hektor and Polydamas; “Don’t Look Up!”
Why Must We Fight and Die?: Reading Sarpedon's Speech to Glaukos in Iliad 12: Heroism; Noblesse Oblige; Kleos
Scarcity and the Iliad: Thinking about Similes in Book 12: Similes in Homer; Cognitive models for reading, 2
A Starter Bibliography on Similes in Homer
n.b this is not an exhaustive bibliography. If you’d like anything else included, please let me know.
Bassett, Samuel E. “The Function of the Homeric Simile.” Transactions and Proceedings of the American Philological Association 52 (1921): 132–47. https://doi.org/10.2307/282957.
Ben-Porat, Ziva. “Poetics of the Homeric Simile and the Theory of (Poetic) Simile.” Poetics Today 13, no. 4 (1992): 737–69. https://doi.org/10.2307/1773297.
Mandel, Oscar. “Homeric Simile.” Prairie Schooner 69, no. 2 (1995): 124–124. http://www.jstor.org/stable/40633938.
Minchin, Elizabeth. “Similes in Homer: image, mind's eye, and memory.” Speaking volumes: orality and literacy in the Greek and Roman world. Ed. Watson, Janet. Mnemosyne. Supplements; 218. Leiden ; Boston (Mass.): Brill, 2001. 25-52.
Moulton, Carroll. “Similes in the Iliad.” Hermes 102, no. 3 (1974): 381–97. http://www.jstor.org/stable/4475864.
Muellner, Leonard. “The Simile of the Cranes and Pygmies a Study of Homeric Metaphor.” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, vol. 93, 1990, pp. 59–101. JSTOR, https://doi.org/10.2307/311283. Accessed 6 Jan. 2024.
Naiden, Fred S.. “Homer's leopard simile.” Nine essays on Homer. Eds. Carlisle, Miriam and Levaniouk, Olga Arkadievna. Greek Studies. Lanham (Md.): Rowman and Littlefield, 1999. 177-203.
Notopoulos, James A. “Homeric Similes in the Light of Oral Poetry.” The Classical Journal 52, no. 7 (1957): 323–28. http://www.jstor.org/stable/3294076.
Pache, Corinne. “Mourning lions and Penelope’s revenge.” Arethusa, vol. 49, no. 1, 2016, pp. 1-24.
Porter, David H. “Violent Juxtaposition in the Similes of the ‘Iliad.’” The Classical Journal 68, no. 1 (1972): 11–21. http://www.jstor.org/stable/3296022.
Ready, Jonathan. 2011. Character, Narrator and Simile in the Iliad. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.
Ready, Jonathan L. “The Comparative Spectrum in Homer.” The American Journal of Philology 129, no. 4 (2008): 453–96. http://www.jstor.org/stable/27566727.
Scott, William C. 2009. The Artistry of the Homeric Simile. Hanover, NH: Dartmouth College Press.
Andreas Thomas Zanker, Metaphor in Homer: time, speech, and thought. Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2019. x, 263 p.. ISBN 9781108491884 $99.99.