The Oral Nature of the Homeric Simile

Scott, William C. (William Clyde), 1937-

Dartmouth College Library

Hanover, NH 03755, USA

© Copyright 2009, William C. Scott

This work has been re-issued as an electronic book by the Dartmouth College Library, to coincide with the digital and print publication of Professor Scott’s 2009 publication, The Artistry of the Homeric Simile (University Press of New England: Hanover and London). The electronic versions of both books are publicly available for non-commercial use, free of charge. These publications are the result of a partnership between the University Press of New England, Dartmouth College Library, and Professor Scott.

THE ORAL NATURE

OF THE

HOMERIC SIMILE

MNEMOSYNE

BIBLIOTHECA CLASSICA BATAVA

COLLEGERUNT

W. DEN BOER · W. J. VERDENIUS · R. E. H. WESTENDORP BOERMA

BIBLIOTHECAE FASCICULOS EDENDOS CURAVIT

W. J. VERDENIUS, HOMERUSLAAN 53, ZEIST

SUPPLEMENTUM VICESIMUM OCTAVUM

WILLIAM C. SCOTT

THE ORAL NATURE

OF THE

HOMERIC SIMILE

LUGDUNI BATAVORUM E. J. BRILL MCMLXXIV

THE ORAL NATURE

OF THE

HOMERIC SIMILE

BY

WILLIAM C. SCOTT

WITH 2 PLATES

LUGDUNI BATAVORUM E. J. BRILL MCMLXXIV

ISBN 90 04 03789 6

Copyright 1974 by E. J. Brill, Leiden, Netherlands

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or

translated in any form, by print, photoprint, microfilm, microfiche

or any other means without written permission from the publisher.

PRINTED IN THE NETHERLANDS

TABLE OF CONTENTS

1. About

2. Cover Page

3. Title Page

4. Copyright

5. Contents

6. Preface

7. Postscript

8. I. The Similes and their Critics

9. II. The Traditional Poet I: The Placement of the Similes

1. I. Similes Joined to Themes

1. 1. The Journeys of Gods

2. 2. Measurement

3. 3. Actions of Divine Beings

1. 3a. Actions of Spirits and Monsters

4. 4. Themes of Specific Emotions

5. 5. Similes for Variation of Standard Themes

6. 6. General Scenes of the Armies

7. 7. Summary Scenes before Battle

8. 8. Entrance of the Hero

9. 9. Withdrawal of the Hero

2. II. Similes as Poetic Technique

1. 1. Emphasis on Anticipated Meetings

2. 2. The Joining of Two Scenes

3. 3. Emphasis in Short Episodes

4. 4. Emphasis of Continuing Motifs throughout the Larger Narrative

3. III. Similes in Speeches

4. Conclusion: The Placement of the Similes

10. III. The Traditional Poet II: The Subject Matter of the Similes

1. 1. The Lion Similes

2. 2. Wind and Sea Similes

3. 3. Fire Similes

4. 4. Gods and Goddesses

5. 5. Tree Similes

6. 6. Wolf Similes

7. 7. Deer Similes

8. 8. Stele Similes

9. 9. Diver Similes

10. 10. Hunting Similes

11. 11. Similes of Children

12. 12. Swarms of Insects

13. 13. Fish Similes

14. 14. River Similes

15. 15. Bird Similes

16. 16. Farm Animal Similes

17. 17. Fragments of Evidence for the Tradition

18. 18. Similes from Outside the Tradition

19. Conclusion: Tradition and Subject Matter

11. IV. The Oral Composer: The Extended Simile

1. I. The Similes of the Iliad

1. 1. Preparing for New Action

2. 2. War and Peace

3. 3. Peace in War

4. 4. Series of Similes

5. 5. The Aristeia of Achilles

2. II. The Similes of the Odyssey

12. V. The Oral Composition of the Similes

1. I. Homer's Repeated Similes

2. II. Methods of Extending the Simile

3. III. Conclusion: The Language of the Similes

13. VI. The Homeric Simile and the Oral Tradition

1. I. The Relationship between Art and Poetry

1. 1. Mycenaean Art and Its Precursors

2. 2. Proto-Attic Pottery

3. 3. Clazomenian Sarcophagi

2. II. The Audience and Oral Tradition

14. Appendix: A Classification of the Similes by Location and Subject Matter

15. Books cited by Author's Name

16. Index

PREFACE

The present study of the Homeric simile begins with a familiar assumption, that the writer was an oral poet. There are already numerous studies of poetic techniques in the Iliad and Odyssey which are dependent on the hypothesis that Homer was an oral poet. On such an assumption one can study a wide spectrum of topics ranging from rather precise matters, such as versification and word choice, to broader concerns of type scenes and developing themes. The idea that Homer was an oral poet similar in most respects to present day oral poets has not found a warm reception in all quarters since no critic can compare contemporary oral verse with the Homeric poems without noticing several important discrepancies. And yet it is the basic assumption of this study that the phrasing and composition of the Iliad and the Odyssey were deeply rooted in a long and complex tradition of oral poetry. Whatever may be the true picture of Homer in the act of composition, it at least seems clear that he was a poet who was fully acquainted with and steeped in such a tradition. Once this is granted, many of the features of Homeric verse which seem so familiar to writers and readers must be examined to ensure that our understanding of these features is based on an awareness of the capabilities and the techniques of an oral poet. Where it is not—and this is often true of our understanding of the similes—there is need for further exploration.

The extended Homeric simile, which is a hallmark of the epic style, has been used with great effect by Vergil and Milton who in so many ways acknowledge their dependence on and inspiration from Homer. Still there are great differences in the old Homeric simile when it is taken over by the two later writers. Vergil and Milton created their longer similes with full understanding and consciousness of the literary tradition in which they were writing skillfully matching details between simile and narrative, adding color to their texts, and developing themes by their artful handling of this small form. The simile in the Iliad and the Odyssey is never so close in its parallels to the narrative nor so related to a consistent theme, and yet it is in its own way highly effective. As in the later written epics, Homer's perceptive employment of the simile presupposes a certain amount of practice and most probably a tradition by which the form, phrasing, and usage of the simile were defined and developed. Tradition so completely dominated the individual lines and type scenes throughout the Iliad and the Odyssey that it would seem odd if there were not an inheritance of customary practice in singing similes from earlier poets. In spite of the suspicion that Homer drew on a tradition which was as strong as that influencing Vergil and Milton, such a tradition remains largely hidden because of the disappearance of Greek epics earlier than or contemporary with the Iliad and the Odyssey.

Yet to attempt to define this tradition and to delineate the extent of its influence is possible because of the consistent and economical system which lies at the root of improvised oral composition. Whereas Vergil and Milton could always draw upon the tradition to aid their creative efforts but were not bound to it, an oral poet works within the limits of a strong tradition which he follows with regularity because of the pressure from his audience, the circumstances of composition, and the normal limitations of a human mind. It is possible to find patterns of words and motifs in the poetry of Vergil and Milton and such patterns reveal much about the techniques and intent of these poets. Though is easier to find patterns of phrasing and scene construction in the Iliad and the Odyssey, these patterns do not reveal as much about the individual poet Homer as they do about the oral tradition in which the poet was educated and which, therefore, underlies the poems.

In regard to the similes there are surprisingly consistent patterns of usage which can be found in their placement, their subject, their extension, and their phrasing. By comparing the various simile groups and families, it is possible to trace with some degree of accuracy the simile materials which the tradition offered to Homer as an aid in composition. Such conclusions are more relevant to the collective body of practicing oral poets who carried on the tradition than to Homer. In a real sense any study of the patterns of society as revealed in a single phenomenon tells far more about the society—poets and painters, mothers and children, craftsmen and teachers—than it does about the individual ordering force behind the phenomenon.

The Homeric simile is merely one aspect of a much larger creation, the stories and the poetry of the Iliad and the Odyssey. However masterful the artistry of these poems may be, it can only be enhanced by an understanding of the tradition which lies behind, or rather permeates, every line and scene. As the similes in the Aeneid and Paradise Lost become more meaningful when compared to their models, so also Homer's similes gain in meaning when the tradition in which they are firmly rooted is better understood.

Many people have aided me in completing this study; I am most indebted to President James I. Armstrong of Middlebury College, to Professor Bernard Fenik of Princeton University, and to Professor Max Treu of the University of Munich, all of whom were faithful guides as this project grew from an idea to a completed manuscript. Thanks are also due to Mrs. Nancy Heffernan who saved me from many mistakes by her careful reading of the manuscript. I am further grateful to Dartmouth College for a Faculty Fellowship for post-doctoral research, which enabled me to extend my study in order to examine the structure and extension of the similes and to explore the possible connections to art works. Dartmouth College has also aided in the publication costs for this book.

To those many friends and colleagues who have read portions of this book in manuscript and who have enlarged my understanding by their generous criticism, I offer my grateful appreciation.

Hanover, N.H.

December 1972.

W. C. S.

Postscript, 2009

I wish to express my appreciation to the officials of the Thesaurus Linguae Graecae for allowing me to use their Greek text for quoting similes in re-issuing this book as an electronic publication.

Hanover, N.H.

September 2009.

W. C. S.

CHAPTER ONE

THE SIMILES AND THEIR CRITICS

A recent guidebook for writers by E. B. White contains the following advice:

Use figures of speech sparingly. The simile is a common device and a useful one, but similes coming in rapid fire, one right on top of another, are more distracting than illuminating. The reader needs time to catch his breath; he can't be expected to compare everything with something else, and no relief in sight. When you use metaphor, do not mix it up. That is, don't start by calling something a sword fish and end by calling it an hourglass.[1]

This pithy comment contains two suggestions: first, a writer should not use many similes in a row; and second, once he picks an image, he should develop it rather than jump nervously from subject to subject. Of course, Homer never wrote such a book of helpful hints for young poets; but if he had, his feelings about similes would probably have been different, at least in view of this passage:

Just as a destructive fire consumes an endless forest on the peaks of a mountain, and the blaze is seen far away, so did the gleam from the wondrous armor of the men as they marched rise up to the heavens through the air.

And as many flocks of winged birds, of geese or cranes or long-necked swans, fly this way and that in the fields of Asia near the streams of Cayster, delighting in their flight—with loud cries they advance and settle and the field echoes with their cries, so did the many tribes of men pour forth from the ships and the tents onto the plain by Scamander. And the earth resounded terribly from the marching of the men and their horses. In their thousands they stood on the flowering plain of the Scamander, as numerous as are the leaves and flowers in spring.

As the many close-packed swarms of flies crowd throughout the herdsman's barns in the springtime, when milk fills the pails, just so many long-haired Achaeans stood in the plain facing the Trojans, eager to destroy them.[2]

(2.455-473)[3]

There is a great difference in the theory and practice represented by E. B. White and Homer. E. B. White has the freedom of the blank page and the eraser. He can let his thoughts lead him wherever they wish, then retrace his steps rearranging and removing those words which do not serve his purpose. Homer, on the other hand, accepted the limitations of a tradition. His stories were old and familiar, and his characters had already been depicted many times performing the same acts in the same situations. Even his language was a hand-me-down from poets who had told the same tale in the same words for generations. If Homer made a mistake or a slip in taste, there was no second chance and no eraser. What had once passed the poet's lips had to stand as it was, to be modified and corrected either immediately or not at all. In spite of the difference between a prose-writer and a poet, both men are devoted to composing clearly, concisely, and effectively. E. B. White, however, is relatively free; Homer volunteered to be constrained by the bonds of a strong tradition.[4]

It is that tradition, especially in regard to the simile, which I intend to examine. The subject for such a study is almost exclusively the two Homeric poems, the sole extant exemplars of early Greek epic. In other early poets there are traces of epic diction used in a manner which may appear oral. However, only the two monumental poems, the Iliad and the Odyssey, preserve closely the language and the method of the oral epic poet.[5] It is not necessary to enter into the battle over the authorship of each poem since it is sufficient for my purpose that the poems are based on the same traditional diction. I suspect that one man was the composer of both poems; ultimately it may be shown that two different men are responsible—or ten. Nonetheless, the language of the two works is fairly uniform; the myriad hypothetical "poets Homer" seem, at least, to have been trained in the same tradition.[6]

The Homeric simile has not been studied as intensively as have Homeric morphology, epic formulae, the boar's tusk helmet, or the major themes and movements of the poems; and yet the simile is a basic characteristic of Homeric epic and has been imitated by all successors in the genre.[7] Such lack of attention by scholars is as surprising as the sedulous devotion of later epic writers. Similes seem an apt scholarly topic but are not always ideally suited to the advancement of the narrative. They are little pictures which are spread widely through the poems. They slow down the action rather than advancing it. Similes, which lack the brilliant gleam of the heroic warrior and have none of the romantic, adventurous spirit of an Odysseus, refuse to raise the mind to heroic heights. They bring it back to the humble hearths of the common man. Their characters are typically men who quarrel over the boundary marker of their corn field or old women who squabble in the streets. The Iliad and the Odyssey may be compared to a picture galley in which the similes are the small and rather fine etchings hung between the large and colorful canvasses on which the acknowledged masters of the world have exhibited their genius.

A study focusing on small elements in a larger whole tends to confuse one's perspective. The major motifs and episodes of the narrative exist separately from the similes. Characters and events could have been, and were, portrayed equally well without them. In its nature the simile is only a supplement that can lend momentary vividness to an episode or aid in emphasizing a vital fact. But by itself it cannot give luster to a shabby scene or immortalize an otherwise insignificant object; the narrative must achieve its results in its own way. Then, and only then, can the simile reinforce the development of the plot. Since similes must be continually regarded as smaller components of the total epic, a critic should always view each simile as a means to a greater end, the epic tale.

Previous scholarship on individual similes and on the generic form has raised six basic questions:

- 1. How much of a simile did the poet know before he began to sing? To what extent did the simile exist in the tradition?

- 2. How closely can one connect simile and narrative?

- 3. Is there any principle guiding the placement of the similes?

- 4. Are simile families used in a traditional way? Is there any consistent pattern in the use of various subjects?

- 5. How does the simile supplement the oral narrative and aid it in telling the story more effectively?

- 6. Is Homer's handling of the simile consistent with the methods of oral poetry?

Highly probable answers have been found to some of these questions, while others remain under consideration. A brief and necessarily selective survey of the previous work on Homeric similes will delineate the limits of present understanding and reveal the areas in which basic questions remain.

1. How much of a simile did the poet know before he began to sing?—The extent to which the similes existed in a prepared form available to the poet whenever the need arose has been the subject of controversy. At one extreme is the statement of Gilbert Murray:

Even the similes, the very breath of life of the poetry of Homer, are in many cases, indeed usually, adopted ready-made. Their vividness, their closeness of observation, their air of freshness and spontaneity, are all deceptive. Nearly all of them are taken over from older books, and many of them were originally written to describe some quite different occasion.[8]

G. P. Shipp, having demonstrated that the similes show a significantly high proportion of late linguistic forms, takes a middle position when he states:

The "Homeric" simile must have a long history behind it, and it is a very natural view that its full development is later than that of the art of the narrative which it adorns.[9]

Representing the other extreme T. B. L. Webster calls the long similes Homer's personal compositions. The short comparisons were inherited: "These old short comparisons were the themes which Homer expanded into long similes adapted to the particular scene that he is describing".[10]

Repeated similes are significant in determining the traditional nature of the simile. Webster states that the poet has free choice "to repeat instead of varying". Often there appears to be an element of conscious reminiscence in the second occurrence of the simile; both Agamemnon and Patroclus weep like fountains before they attempt to sway Achilles (9.14 and 16.3).[11] On the other hand the majority of Analysts have attacked the repeated similes as insertions into the text or signs of a late text. Typical is the comment of Leaf on the repeated simile of the galloping stallion (6.506 and 15.263):

We have here . . . a clear plagiarism of a passage whose intrinsic beauty marked it out for plunder. How a single 'Homer' could have thus repeated his own best passages, careless of their appropriateness, it is for the defenders of the unity of the Iliad to say.[12]

However, even when Analysts employ a similar method, the results are often contradictory and, therefore, self-defeating. A. Shewan has catalogued the internal dissent.[13] There seems to be no proof of the age or the originality of the similes here.

W. Schadewaldt has shown that the spirit which created the similes is far from that which stimulated the artists of Minoan- Mycenaean art.[14] R. Hampe has tied the subjects, treatment, and stylistic mannerisms of Geometric artists to those of Homer concluding that the similes were conceived and grew in the epic diction during the eighth century. In addition, Shipp writes that the lion as a single creature in a simile has no relation to the Mycenaean representations of lion hunts.[15] From the evidence of these three studies, it seems likely that the similes were formed late in the traditional diction, at least later than the narrative. Their similarity to the Geometric art of the eight century is probably the key to the date of their present formation, a date which linguistic evidence tends to reinforce.

2. How closely can one connect simile and narrative?—The exact connection between simile and narrative has been defined in various ways. Finsler felt that there was one, and only one, point of contact between simile and narrative. The simile was a self-contained picture developed in itself and for itself giving a feeling of richness and beauty to the story.[16] Wilamowitz examined many individual similes and found a similarity of tone (Stimmungsgleichnis) between simile and narrative in many cases. Ajax is like a lion in his feelings, but like an ass in his behavior. There is no room for the squeamishness which will not sanction the comparison of an heroic warrior to an ass. Since the poet has inserted the simile into the narrative concentrating on the poetic effectiveness of the image, the toilsome search for the single, proper tertium comparationis has little point for Wilamowitz.[17] H. Fränkel continued and expanded this approach. He lists the similes and examines the multiple connections between simile and narrative, the contributions of tone, and the echoes from simile to simile. He admits finally that any connection is valid:

Fragen wir schliesslich, aus welchen Gebieten die Ähnlichkeiten entstammen, so müssen wir antworten: aus allen von denen überhaupt homerische Dichtung etwas zu künden weiss.[18]

K. Riezler takes the more metaphysical approach that both the narrative and the simile are interwoven and grow together. Homer has seen the essential oneness in two separate phenomena, which is the key to early philosophy, and Homer's works become the first literary evidence of philosophic thought.[19]

Simile and narrative are connected—but beyond this statement scholars disagree. Current criticism favors poetic unity: the complete picture drawn in the simile is tied intricately to events in the narrative, while its tone or atmosphere may heighten the emotions in the story.

3. Is there any principle guiding the placement of the similes?—No scholar has yet undertaken a systematic study of this question, although types of passages in which similes repeatedly appear have been pointed out. M. Coffey divided these passages into the following categories: movement or lack of movement, appearance of a hero, noise, measurement, time measures, numbers, various narrative situations, and psychological characteristics. F. Müller adds passages which describe the unusual, the difficult to sing, meaningful moments in the battle, and scenes of weapons. DeVelsen in an older study found similes used often in scenes of crowds or in the journeys of gods. Many people have felt that there should be traditional places in the story at which the poet would sing a simile. Though several suggestions have been made, proof of these propositions requires a general study of all similes in the Homeric poems.

4. Is there any consistent pattern in the use of various simile subjects?—Scholars have noticed that there are families of similes; for example, the lion family or the bird similes though the question of a traditional usage of the various subject families had not been fully explored. F. Krupp divides the families as follows: elements of nature, world of flowers, life of animals, life of men, inner life of men, religious figures.[20] Others have similar or modified classifications.[21] Only H. Fränkel of Homeric critics has systematically attempted to relate the subject matter of the similes to the context in which they occur. He has found certain constant symbols: a storm represents an attack; the sea, a mass of warriors or people; a rock, a king or leader; and clouds, a group of followers or a mass of warriors. In his study Fränkel grouped the similes as members of families and then established repeated symbolic equivalents which relate the simile to the narrative.[22] His method required a close look at the details in the simile to find connections to the narrative. M. Coffey has recently called for a study with the opposite orientation, namely a focus on the details in the narrative in order to find connections to the general subject of the simile:

The frequent recurrence of certain kinds of subject matter, such as wind and birds, suggests that many are stock comparisons deriving from generations of bards and used to illustrate common events in the narrative, e.g. speed of movement.[23]

This would be a study of the narrative contexts in which certain simile families repeatedly occur. I intend to follow this suggestion.

5. How does the simile supplement the oral narrative and aid it in telling the story more effectively?—Beyond very general statements about the values of the simile in bejeweling the narrative and very particular statements about the force of certain similes in enhancing individual passages, little has been written about the simile as a device of the poet in telling an effective story. Wilamowitz considered only the individual similes; Fränkel lists various ways in which the similes can aid the poet in single scenes.[24] K. Riezler shows how similes participate in the larger movement of the narrative. He defines several functions of the simile: some tell how the story could have developed but did not; some demonstrate the mixing of god and man; many keep before us the mixture of war and peace; several foreshadow future events.[25] T. B. L. Webster points out the technique of "cross-referencing" by similes which permits similes to contribute importantly to the telling of the tale. When the Trojans camp before the Greek wall, two weather similes express the contrasting emotions of the Trojans and the Greeks: fair weather on land characterizes the Trojans; foul weather at sea, the Greeks (8.555 and 9.4). [26] Few scholars have, however, examined the relationship of narrative and simile in extended passages, a problem which will be explored further here.

6. Is Homer's handling of the simile consistent with the methods of oral poetry?—Finally there is oral poetry itself. Scholars have assumed that the Homeric simile is an element rooted in a tradition of oral, not written, poetry. M. Coffey assures us that at least "the comparisons and similes of the Odyssey, though a complicated literary device, have like other aspects of the Homeric language the fundamental characteristics of an oral manner of composition".[27] J. A. Notopoulos has called for further work on this question:

Why single out the similes as the sole evidence of Homeric originality, when it is becoming increasingly apparent that the whole texture of Homeric poetry—aside from the architecture, length, and perhaps characterization—is traditional, subject of course to the originality that is possible in using traditional material? Our aesthetic perceptions of the freshness of Homeric similes have blinded us to the fact that the similes, no less than the formulae, the type-scenes, and the themes, are part and parcel of the oral tradition.[28]

This statement is the guiding principle of this study. That the Iliad and the Odyssey are purely oral poetry has never been proved to the satisfaction of all critics, and perhaps it never will. The strongest claim for the oral nature of the poems depends on continuing studies of particular facets of Homeric style or diction since each time the composition, phrasing, or content of a passage is perceptively examined with reference to the traditional manner of oral composition, the oral quality of the poems can be more precisely defined. I shall assume in this study of the nature of the similes that the Iliad and the Odyssey are the products of oral verse-making or are so closely related to that process that they are best criticised and studied on the basis of such an assumption. Homer remains a misty figure—perhaps a blind, wandering poet of ancient fame, but also a mortal bard with sensitive and yet human intellect, human strengths, and human weaknesses, who earned his living by composing oral songs about the glories of former heroes. Perhaps Homer is a member of a society which had begun to learn to write—a poet who could draw on the tradition of oral verse in order to write longer, more complex, and more subtle poetry in the spirit of previous epic. In either case Homer was thoroughly steeped in the language and techniques of oral verse-making and several conclusions may be validly drawn about his poetry as a reflection of the conditions of oral creation.

The scholars of this century have dated the origin of the similes with admirable accuracy considering the vagueness of the evidence. With the guidance of Wilamowitz, Fränkel, and Riezler literary critics have come to understand and explore the unity of simile and narrative. But concerning the actual handling of the simile—the placement, the choice of subject matter, the use of the simile in telling the tale, and the technique by which the simile is extended—the record is small. It is these points which will be examined in the following chapters.

Notes—Chapter 1

1. W. Strunk, Jr. and E. B. White, The Elements of Style (New York 1959), p. 66 f.

2. Where linguistic matter is not important, I will use translation with no Greek text. For the prosaic translations accompanying the text I take full responsibility. They were not done with an eye toward immortality but rather with the hope that they would illustrate clearly the point under discussion. The text used throughout has been the Oxford text of Monro and Allen.

3. Throughout this study citations to the Iliad will be given by the number of the book of the Iliad and the line number. Citations to the Odyssey will be in the same form but will be prefaced by "Od." Thus, 5.59 refers to the Iliad while Od. 5.59 refers to the Odyssey.

4. This contrast has been well expressed by F. P. Magoun, Jr., "Oral- Formulaic Character of Anglo-Saxon Narrative Poetry", Speculum 28 (1953), pp. 446-467: "Whereas a lettered poet of any time or place, composing (as he does and must) with the aid of writing materials and with deliberation, creates his own language as he proceeds, the unlettered singer, ordinarily composing rapidly and extempore before a live audience, must and does call upon ready-made language, upon a vast reservoir of formulas filling just measures of verse. These formulas develop over a long period of time; they are the creation of countless generations of singers and can express all the ideas a singer will need in order to tell his story, itself usually traditional." (p. 446).

5. Cf. the discussion of criteria for assessing oral quality by G. S. Kirk, "Formular Language and Oral Quality," YCS 20 (1966), pp. 155-174.

6. Parry (p. 239 f.) found the diction uniform—even if the authors were many: "On trouve ainsi entre la diction de l'Iliade et celle de l'Odyssée une similitude des plus complètes, mais il faut pourtant se garder d'y voir la moindre preuve de ce qu'on appelle l'unité des poèmes homériques. Nous savons seulement que l'auteur ou les auteurs de ces deux poèmes suivent fidèlement la tradition de la diction aédique et c'est pour cette raison que leurs styles, à en juger par l'emploi de l'épithète, se ressemblent jusqu'en leurs moindres détails." For recent discussion of the linguistic and formulaic differences between the Iliad and the Odyssey see D. Page, The Homeric Odyssey (Oxford 1955), pp. 149-159 and an answer by Webster, pp. 276-283. G. S. Kirk, The Songs of Homer (Cambridge 1962), pp. 288-300 explores both arguments and calls for further evidence before any firm conclusions can be reached: "This result [the difference in style between the two poems] could not be absolutely dissociated from the effects of advancing age in a single main composer..., but like other differences it is probably better explained on the assumption of separate composers, of whom the poet of the Odyssey was already familiar with the Iliad, though he probably had not assimilated the whole poem into his own repertoire." Cf. also M. van der Valk, "The Formulaic Character of Homeric Poetry and the Relation between the Iliad and the Odyssey," L'Antiquité Classique 35 (1966), esp. pp. 46-70. In support of Parry's statement Webster notes the comments of H. N. Porter, "The Early Greek Hexameter," YCS 12 (1951), p. 27: "The Iliad and the Odyssey differ very little from each other in the 1,000-line samples examined in this paper. When compared with any of the other texts they present a common front. The differences between them are slight. . . The evidence of the structure of the line strongly supports the unity, if not of authorship or of time, at least of style of the two poems."

7. For a discussion of later poets' techniques in writing similes see W. D. Anderson, "Notes on the Simile in Homer and his Successors," CJ 53 (1957), pp. 81-87 and 127-133.

8. Murray, p. 249. Cf. J. Duchemin, "A Propos des Comparaisons dans l'Iliade," Information Litteraire 12 (1960), pp. 113-118 and "Aspects Pastoraux de la Poésie Homérique. Les Comparaisons dans l'Iliade," REG 73 (1960), pp. 362-415.

9. Shipp, p. 212.

10. Webster, p. 235.

11. Webster, pp. 235-6 and Whitman, pp. 279-283. On the question of repeated similes, however see infra pp. 127-140.

12. Leaf on 15.263-68. He does not consider this simile an interpolation; it is firmly "embedded" in Book 15.

13. A. Shewan, "Suspected Flaws in Homeric Similes" in Homeric Essays (Oxford 1935), pp. 217-228.

14. W. Schadewaldt, Von Homers Welt und Werk (4th ed.; Stuttgart 1965), pp. 130-154.

15. Shipp, p. 213 ff.

16. G. Finsler, Homer (3rd ed.; Leipzig and Berlin 1924) II, p. 258 ff.

17. U. von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff, Die Ilias und Homer (2nd ed.; Berlin 1920), p. 193 f. Cf. T. Plüss, "Mykenische und nachmykenische Gleichnisse der Ilias," Zeitschrift für das Gymnasialwesen 64 (1910), pp. 612-619: the simile "... solle eine gefühlsstarke Vorstellung von dem nicht anschaubaren Charakter eines epischen Hauptvorganges möglichst lebendig ausdrücken" (p. 613).

18. Fränkel, p. 106. For opposition to Fränkel's approach see G. Jachmann, Der homerische Schiffskatalog und die Ilias (Köln und Opladen 1958), pp. 267-338. In support of Fränkel see M. van der Valk, Researches on the Text and Scholia of the Iliad (Leiden 1964) II, pp. 475 f. and 654-5.

19. Κ. Riezler, "Das homerische Gleichnis und der Anfang der Philosophie," Die Antike 12 (1936), pp. 253-271. Cf. Snell, pp. 199-204.

20. F. Krupp, Die homerischen Gleichnisse (Zweibrücken 1883).

21. Cf. the detailed analysis of simile subjects by E. G. Wilkins, "A Classification of the Similes of Homer," CW 13 (1919-20), pp. 147-150 and 154-159.

22. Fränkel, pp. 16-25.

23. M. Coffey, "The Similes of the Odyssey," BICS 2 (1955), p. 27.

24. Fränkel, esp., p. 98 f.

25. Riezler op. cit. (supra, n. 19).

26. Wilamowitz (supra, n. 17), p. 32 f. and Webster, p. 231 f. For opposition to this view see Jachmann (supra, n. 18), p. 309 ff.

27. M. Coffey op. cit. (supra, n. 23).

28. J. A. Notopoulos, "Homeric Similes in the Light of Oral Poetry," CJ 52 (1957), pp. 323-328 (p. 326 f.).

CHAPTER TWO

THE TRADITIONAL POET I: THE PLACEMENT OF THE SIMILES

One of the most obvious questions concerning Homeric similes is: why have all the similes of countless subjects and countless usages been placed in their particular positions in the narrative? At one extreme the answer could be poetic freedom; placement would depend solely on the sensitivity or whim of the individual poet. But there are several contexts in the narrative where a simile is quite usual—where a reader of today is not surprised to see a simile and where the poet was not being notably creative or innovative in introducing such an image. For example, once a person has read:

Apollo came like the night... Thetis came forth from the grey sea like a mist...

he is not startled or dazzled to find:

Thetis jumped down from snowy Olympus like a hawk... Athena flew away like a bird... Athena hurried to the couch of Nausicaa like a breath of wind... (1.47, 1.359, 18.616, Od. 1.320, and Od. 6.20)

In the Homeric poems when gods and goddesses travel from place to place, they are so often described by a simile that there seems to be a pattern of placement determined by traditional guidelines. These guidelines are based in the oral tradition since they are derived more from the context and its customary development than from the free creative impulse of the poet.

The idea that Homer drew on a strong tradition is scarcely new. Indeed, it is the basis for our understanding of epithets and type scenes. While literary critics must always allow the poet to surrender to the press of time and to his idiosyncratic urges, it is clear that the oral tradition permeates every section of the poems. Oral verse is composed in terms of individual scenes which in conjunction form a larger general plot. The individual scenes, the lines which compose them, and the half-line building blocks, all are dominated by the poet's recollection of the scene as it has been sung for generations. There is, of course, always room for modification to adapt the inherited scene to its new location. The larger plot—judging from information concerning the Cyclic Epics—tended to be dictated by tradition, such as the several epic songs which centered on the Trojan War and the Theban War. But again the particular development of the tale remained in the hands of the poet. Homer was, consequently, always involved in the necessity of choosing between various elements of the tradition.

Oral poets construct their poems from individual short scenes so that the narrative is continually moving from one unit of action to another. The transition can be made smoothly, though it is often clear from the abruptness of the intervening lines that one scene has ended and another has begun in the poet's mind. His style is marked by such introductions as:

πρῶτος δὲ ἄναξ ἀνδρῶν Ἀγαμέμνων … Ἰδομενεὺς δ ἄρα Φαῖστον ἐνήρατο Μῄονος υἱὸν … Τὸν μὲν ἄρ Ἰδομενῆος ἐσύλευον θεράποντες· υἱὸν δὲ Στροφίοιο Σκαμάνδριον αἵμονα θήρης … Μηριόνης δὲ Φέρεκλον ἐνήρατο, τέκτονος υἱὸν … Πήδαιον δ ἄρ ἔπεφνε Μέγης Ἀντήνορος υἱὸν … Εὐρύπυλος δ Εὐαιμονίδης Ὑψήνορα δῖον … (5.38, 43, 48-49, 59, 69, 76)

In the passage from which these lines are taken the poet wants to sing a series of killings by individual Greek warriors. This series is introduced by the words:

Τρῶας δ ἔκλιναν Δαναοί· ἕλε δ ἄνδρα ἕκαστος ἡγεμόνων· πρῶτος δὲ ἄναξ ἀνδρῶν Ἀγαμέμνων … (5.37-38)

There follows a list of six unconnected woundings, each one joined to the last by the word "δέ". Then the series is summarized by one closing line. When the poet moves to the next major scene, the reentrance of Diomedes, the transition is marked by another "δέ".

If one of these six small scenes had fallen out, it probably would not have been missed either by the listeners or by later critics; at any moment after two or three short scenes the bard could have inserted the closing line and turned to Diomedes, his principal subject. At the end of the fourth, fifth, or sixth short description there was the alternative, a summary line or another short description of a killing. These are examples of the units from which Homer constructed his poems. Anticipation of possibilities and choice from among such alternatives are essential to the method of the oral poet.

This method is equally apparent in the placing of similes. In the course of singing a scene, the poet knew the alternatives for continuing his narrative, and it is still possible to determine those junctures in the narrative where the tradition suggested the simile as an alternative. The investigation of a number of such junctures will aid in defining those guidelines handed down in the oral tradition which influenced the location of similes.

Most of the occurrences of the simile accompany the normal themes which are used by the poet in composing his epic. Albert Lord has defined themes as: "the groups of ideas regularly used in a telling a tale in the formulaic style of traditional song".[1] For example, there are enough journeys of gods and descriptions of armies in the Homeric poems to establish these two scenes as themes which the poet employed in advancing his story. When the simile occurs as a normal extension or element of such a theme, the standard junctures in the narrative at which similes can occur become limited and admit of definition within the existing categories of the oral poet's thought.

To define these themes, it is necessary to impose a momentary restriction upon the reading of the poems: the content of the simile must be neglected. The search is for the scenes where a simile—long or short, fish or fowl—seems natural and, perhaps, expected. Context is essential for such a study while content is momentarily meaningless.

In addition, there is a second type of passage in which the poet will often sing a simile which does not accompany a theme but rather reinforces the effects which the poet makes through his narrative. The simile lengthens and colors the passage and, thereby, gives emphasis to a scene which the poet feels is important for his story. Many dead heroes are carried away from the battle with little elaboration; but when the battle is drawn over the slain Patroclus, there is a need to impress the passage upon the minds of the audience so that the poet can return later to that same scene. In this case a series of similes is effective in making noteworthy and memorable a situation which is otherwise without particular distinction. One of a countless number of available alternatives is the simile. Because the context is not an identifiable narrative theme, there is little reason to define a list of alternatives; rather parallels must be established which show that the simile accompanies a patterned method of composition.

The simile is suggested to the oral singer by certain contexts of these two types which will be analyzed in the first two sections of this chapter. First, there are nine thematic contexts where Homer has the option of choosing a simile from among several traditional alternatives. The placement of the simile can be explained in terms of traditional alternatives about sixty-two percent of the time. In the second section the repeated use of the simile in a scene which cannot be isolated as a narrative theme will be examined.

Of course, the license which is granted to any poet can never be forgotten and Homer was certainly capable of improvising in utter disdain of pattern or tradition. Scholars may search for solid foundations for their ideas, but the oral poet can always deceive them. Therefore the principles which are discovered by this study should not be expected to be absolute. Tradition is almost always a matter of percentages, and it will be sufficient to show that Homer to a significant degree confined his similes to a limited number of narrative situations.

I. Similes Joined to Themes

1.The Journeys of Gods

The appearance of immortals among men is common in the Homeric poems. Homer, who is by no means as careful of motivating their entrances and exits as he is in the case of mortals, often has them appear from nowhere and for no particular reason except to aid a hero or to confront another divinity. Apollo and Athena take active part in the horse race but have not been previously brought to earth by the poet (23.382 ff.). In Book 3 when Aphrodite saves Paris by breaking the chin strap on his helmet (3.374), she is physically present in the poem for the first time. Such omnipresence may accord well with the idea of a powerful divinity, but it also demonstrates that Homer was not overly scrupulous or concerned in moving gods and goddesses neatly from this place to that on the earth.

However, when Homer takes time describing a god's descent from Olympus to earth or the return trip back to his divine home, he concentrates on the details and the significance of the journey. There is always a motive for the entrance or withdrawal of the divinity. The journey has its causes in the narrative and is introduced in order to achieve a specific effect. For example, in Book 1 of the Iliad Apollo, Athena, and Thetis all journey from their divine homes (Olympus or the depths of the sea) to the battlefield at Troy. Apollo had been invoked by Chryses because of Agamemnon's stubborn and insolent refusal to return Chryseis. Because of Apollo's entrance, Achilles (and Hera) have grounds for calling a conference of the Greek leaders. Later Athena is sent by Hera to stop Achilles from killing Agamemnon because both goddesses love and care for the two warriors. It is Athena's entrance that motivates Achilles to turn to another type of vengeance. Thetis rises from the sea in answer to Achilles' prayer. She goes up to Olympus to carry her son's wishes to Zeus, and her request is the cause of the plan of Zeus. While gods may wander in and out of human situations and mingle freely with mortals, Homer does not allow them to drop down from the sky or emerge from the sea arbitrarily. He seems to have made a distinction between these two types of divine action. A god walking upon the earth may have appeared strange and unusual to the Homer's audience;[2] but it was the journey of a divinity between heaven and earth which was marked by the poet as a significant event.[3]

Divine journeys are presented in a very limited number of ways. Sometimes they are described in standard lines:

This is the simplest way to present a divine journey since it requires only one line and immediately, with the god at his destination, the action proceeds. This unadorned statement may be augmented by a simile as in Book 1 Apollo comes like the night (1.47) and Thetis comes to her son like a mist (1.359). Iris is sent to the battlefield to order Poseidon to leave:

So he spoke and swift, wind-footed Iris did not disobey him, but she went down from the hills of Ida to sacred Ilium. Just as when down from the clouds snow or freezing hail flies before the blast of the north wind which is born high in the bright air, so rapidly did swift Iris in her eagerness descend; and standing near she spoke to the famed Earth-shaker . . . (15.168-173)

Here the simple description of her descent is supplemented by a simile which expresses the swiftness of her flight. Similes are used often in the Iliad and the Odyssey in such a scene. Sometimes the immediate comparison is to the divinity's swiftness, sometimes to his appearance, and sometimes to the unnatural length of his trip (cf. 15.80, 21.493, 5.864, and 5.770). In nineteen cases of a divinity traveling between heaven and earth, a simile is present which characterizes some aspect of the journey (13 in the Iliad ; 6 in the Odyssey). [4] It is only to be expected that there are varying ways of attaching the simile to this type of scene since journeys of gods must have been common in a tradition which mixed the divine and the mortal with no embarrassment.

These are two ways of presenting the divine journey: the simple two-line statement and the simile, but there are other alternatives. The list of two-line descriptions above is not complete. Other words and lines for a simple statement of travel exist, some with no parallel in the existing remains of epic. Or the poet can list the route taken by a divinity. When Hera darts from Olympus to Lemnos, the poet gives her route: Pieria, Emathia, Thrace, Athos, Lemnos (14.244 ff.). Routes, although not in such complete timetable form, are also listed in the cases of Iris and Hermes (24.80 and Od. 5.51).[5] Finally there are divine journeys which are characterized by a scene of preparation. Twice Athena arms and Hera harnesses the horses before they go to Troy (5.719 ff. and 8.382 ff.). The preparation of the chariot and the arming of the god is told before Zeus and, later, Poseidon make trips (8.41 and 13.23). Though Poseidon does not drive the whole way, the horses take him most of the way to Troy. Hermes puts on his sandals twice, and Athena dons hers once (24.340. Od. 5.44, and Od. 1.96).[6]

The fact that each of these passages contains lines which are repeated in this type of scene and no other is good evidence that such divine preparation was traditionally sung in a scene of a god journeying between worlds:

He spoke and-------

Going there he

harnassed bronze-hoofed horses to the chariot, swift horses with long golden manes; and he put gold armor about himself and took his gold whip, well-made, and climbed into his chariot.

(8.41-44 and 13.23-26)

Thus speaking she-------

Immediately he

bound his beautiful sandals upon his feet, immortal and golden, which bore him over the sea and endless stretches of earth with the speed of the wind.

(24.340-42, Od. 1.96-98, and Od. 5.44-46)

Such a scene of preparation could lead to little else but a journey since these preparations would be unnecessary if the god were going to stay at home. However, that a number of lines are repeated exactly suggests a type scene of preparation for such a trip. When the poet chose this alternative, such scenes were at hand in the tradition allowing him to sing easily of harnessing, arming, dressing, and mounting. He had only to choose among the various passages to prepare a god to enter the narrative.

At 8.438 Zeus drives the chariot to Olympus and there Poseidon unyokes the horses and covers the cart. This scene is a balance to that previously prepared chariot at 8.41, since it represents care for the chariot, but immediately after the journey instead of immediately before. This may be another, but unparalleled, type of traveling scene or merely a small inversion that the oral poet arranged. He wanted to mention the vehicle, but recalling the earlier scene he inverted the order. There is such a short distance between the two passages that both could be embraced even in a short song.

These four versions of one scene demonstrate the principle of alternatives which is basic to this study. When the poet wanted to break into the narrative to provide new motivation, to begin a new phase of action, or to achieve some specific effect, he could insert a brief episode which brought a god from Olympus into the human situation. To describe the journey of a god between his divine home and the earth, he had at least four choices. He could state the simple fact, he could embellish the scene with a simile, he could list the route of the god, or he could explain the divine preparation.

The choice between alternatives did not depend on the importance of the mission to the larger plot of the whole poem; rather it was a matter of appropriateness to the individual scene. Because Thetis always comes on sorrowful missions, it would not be the place for describing the yoking of the divine team or pointing out her falcon-like swiftness which would distract the hearer when he ought to be concentrating on the import of her mission. When Zeus goes to Mount Ida "exulting in his glory", the simple line would sound insufficient, especially when the audience knew that the divine chariot and the golden armor traditionally enhanced Zeus' glory.[7] The choice between alternative journeying scenes depends on immediate aesthetic appropriateness rather than on the significance of the particular scene within the larger narrative.

As an oral poet sang, he anticipated. When he wanted to describe a divine journey, he chose from at least four methods of presenting it the one most appropriate to the details of the surrounding context. One of these alternatives was the simile, whose frequent appearance at this point in the narrative indicates that its placement was well established in the oral tradition.

2. Measurement

The Homeric poet could measure some quantities of space and time quite precisely; the catalogue of ships has made momentary mathematicians of all close readers. Time could be marked by set intervals: day and night were general terms; sunrise, noon, and sunset were fixed points of reference; days and years were totaled. But aside from these minor precisions Homer seems uninterested in exact measurement, a characteristic not peculiar to Homer; many poets have the same aversion to facts and figures. From Aeschylus, whose Clytemnestra heard of so many wounds to her husband that he seemed "more pierced than a fishnet," to Robert Frost's lonely traveler who has miles to go before he sleeps, poets have invoked the same principle: use approximate measurements when the use of precise figures does not serve a poetic purpose and will merely bore or distract the audience.

Homer uses many approximate measures to illustrate size, distance, time, number, speed, and degrees of loudness, of quality, and of brightness. Often such measurements are expressed by a simile. For example, when Patroclus charges against the Lycians in his aristeia, they give way before him, but the distance which they retreat is not given exactly; rather it is indicated approximately by a simile:

As far as the flight of a long javelin which a man throws with all his might either in a contest or in war before the murderous enemy, so far did the Trojans retreat . . . (16.589-92)

In the two poems there are thirty-five instances of a simile used to express measurement, both short comparisons and long similes (Iliad 21; Odyssey 14).[8]

Size is often expressed by a comparison. The approximate height of waves is twice given by reference to mountains (Od. 3.290 and Od. 11.243). Priam's eagle of omen has a wingspread as wide as a treasure house door (24.317).

Similes of distance are the most numerous type of approximate measure. The horses of Menelaus are only a small bit behind those of Antilochus, only as far as a horse is from the chariot wheel (23.517), and in the iron-throwing contest Polypoetes throws the iron weight as far as a shepherd can fling his crook (23.845).

Items can always be listed by exact numbers. Yet when the poet must create for his audience the picture of the endless numbers of the Greek army, he places three similes in a row (2.459, 468, and 469). These similes express an infinite quantity—flocks of birds, numbers of flowers or leaves, and swarms of flies. The simile about leaves or flowers is repeated when Odysseus describes the number of Cicones:

μυρίοι, ὅσσά τε φύλλα καὶ ἄνθεα γίγνεται ὥρῃ … ἦλθον ἔπειθ, ὅσα φύλλα καὶ ἄνθεα γίνεται ὥρῃ … (2.468 and Od. 9.51)

This repeated simile is important. When the poet wanted to indicate the size of a crowd, he could give a general number, he could use the word for crowd, or he could sing a simile, however twice when confronted with this situation, he chose to sing a simile and in both cases the same simile came to mind. The repetition of this simile in the same situation is strong evidence for the system of alternatives which underlies the placement of the simile in the Homeric poems.

Horses which are swift as birds and a quick divine cure by Paeëon are examples of similes used to express relative speed (2.764 and 5.902). The cry of the wounded Ares which is like nine or ten thousand warriors is a comparison for loudness (5.860). A point of time is once set by a passage very much like a simile. Though it is an independent picture within the narrative, it is introduced by the word "when" and rejoined to the narrative by the word "then" (11.85). Degree of quality can be indicated by a simile. The robe which Hecuba takes to the goddess and the robe which Helen gives to Telemachus are both the fairest of their kind and shine like stars (6.295 and Od. 15.108).[9] Penelope washes the shroud and it shines like the sun or the moon—a measure of its brightness—just as pitch is a measure of blackness (Od. 24.148 and 4.277).

Closely related to similes of measurement is one which expresses shape. Idomeneus sees a round spot like the moon on the forehead of the leading horse (23.455).

To conclude, exact measure cannot be given by similes. But the poet has little need for exact measure and uses the simile to give an approximate idea of standards of quantity and quality. This much can be determined about the placement of the simile by looking solely at its context.

It is worth a moment's digression to comment on the context of this particular group of similes because they contain two varieties of measure. Compare two similes describing size: the wife of the Laestrygonian king is as large as a mountain peak while the stake which is plunged into the Cyclops' eye is as thick as a ship's mast (Od. 10.113 vs. Od. 9.322). The image of the ship's mast can be readily grasped by the mind; any listener in Homer's audience who had seen a ship could easily imagine the approximate dimensions of the stake. The simile of the mountain peak describing a giant woman suggests indefinite size. The category "mountain" knows no limit in the human imagination; it is as though Homer said of the Laestrygonian queen, "She was so huge you could not imagine it!"

There are places where it is appropriate for the poet to call to mind a size which is almost inconceivable; but there are also passages where the poet feels a need to suggest a size which is not left to the imagination and, in fact, is very limited in its scope. The story of Odysseus, the suddenly small man, in the cave of Polyphemus, the giant, is an example. Odysseus' first view of the Cyclops is terrifying and he reveals his fright by using a simile of monstrous size and inhuman nature:

For he was a monstrous wonder, and was not like a man who eats bread but like a wooded peak among the lofty mountains which is seen alone apart from the others. (Od. 9.190-2)

After the initial fright at the thought of the Cyclops dies down, the similes no longer suggest infinite extent but describe objects which are limited in their size. To describe the stake which will put out the Cyclops' eye, a simile of the ship's mast is actually an approximation to a known object in Homer's world. It is important that this simile be familiar to the audience. The stake must be large in order to agree with the size of Polyphemus; but it must not be so big that all sense of realism is destroyed, since Odysseus then becomes a man wandering in a fairy tale instead of a hero and the illusion of heroic epic is shattered. Generally, when the Greeks entered an imaginary world, they did not give free rein to their thought, carrying every object and quality to its greatest possible development. Rather they insisted on a believable, if enlarged, world. As one critic puts it:

To them [the Greeks], the imaginary supernatural adventures of Märchen remained pointless and unattractive. The Greek did not desire to ignore or overstep human limitations so much as to master and control them ... Like the hybrid monsters of eastern imagination when they came under Greek artists' hands, the northern Märchen had to be re-formed and retold in more natural human terms before a Greek literary audience could accept them.[10]

To Homer it was vital to preserve the "realism" of the Cyclops' cave. The Cyclops is an overgrown man, and his possessions are inflated objects of a normal shepherd. Although men have never seen such a world, the poet can describe it with an air of great reality. In creating this world similes which allow approximation and which limit the size of objects are preferable to similes which allow the imagination to think in general, almost limitless, dimensions.

Similes of distance are drawn mostly from everyday life. There are no lions, tigers, or Pygmies; rather there are mule teams and shepherds mixed with javelin-, discus-, and spear-throwers. Thus the distances described would be meaningful to an audience which knew the countryside and would recognize these common sights. Yet there are also distance similes which impose no limit on the imagination. Homer says that the horses of Hera leap as far as a man looking over the water can see (5.770). Since no hearer could make a meaningful approximation of such a measure, Homer merely means that the horses bounded an unimaginable distance, an idea well suited to divine horses.

This small digression, focused on the content of similes describing measurement rather than on the context, shows one element which would determine Homer's choice between similes. There seem to be two types of similes as alternatives. He can choose a simile which suggests a meaningful approximation or one which conveys an idea of infinite extent, and the choice between alternatives once again depends upon the intent of the poet in forming each passage.

3. Actions of Divine Beings

Gods interact freely with men throughout the narrative of the Iliad and the Odyssey. Often they are merely presented like any other actor in the story, and divine actions convey their amazing quality directly. When Apollo cries out to Patroclus that he is not fated to take Troy and hurls him back from the city wall, the unnatural mixing of god with man is portrayed in factual statements of actions. Whatever sense of amazement, wonder, or horror is raised in the audience is created by the direct telling of the event. Sometimes, however, the actions of divine beings are further augmented by a simile which emphasizes their unnatural qualities. An example of such a simile occurs in the one-sided battle between Xanthus and Hephaestus:

So she spoke and Hephaestus made ready a fiercely blazing fire. First he kindled a fire on the plain and burned the many corpses slain by Achilles, which were there in abundance. All the plain was parched and the shining water was stopped. Just as when the north wind in autumn quickly dries an orchard which has been freshly watered and delights the man who tends it, so was the whole plain dried. . . (21.342-48)

Similes, both short and long, are used in such a position seventy- four times in both poems (Iliad 31; Odyssey 33).[11]

One extensive group of these similes depicts the appearances of gods. Athena, Apollo, and Sleep sit among men as birds (7.59, 14.290 and Od. 22.240). Ares and Apollo shout with multi-throated loudness (5.860 and 14.148). Xanthos roars like a bull and bubbles like a pot (21.237 and 362). The old man of the sea is like a shepherd among his seals (Od. 4.413). Even the possessions of the immortals receive similes, as Poseidon's sword, Hera's glistening veil, and the drug from Hermes—all of which are characterized by a simile (14.386, 14.185, and Od. 10.304).

The miraculous deeds of gods for gods and gods for men are commonly described by a simile. The divine doctor Paeëon heals Ares in milk-curdling time, and the scene where Hephaestus attacks Xanthus is quoted above (5.902 and 21.346). When gods mingle with men, they have the ability to defend (4.130 and 13.564), entrance (13.437 and Od. 10.216), inspire (15.605), glorify or beautify (Od. 6.232 and Od. 18.193), or destroy man and man's creations (15.362 and Od. 5.368). All these scenes of divine intermingling contain a simile.

There is a special type of scene when a warrior challenges a god, for such an encounter of man and god is regarded as a unified event containing the action of a divine being. When Diomedes attacks Apollo, a simile is formally attached to the actions of Diomedes; yet such similes are present frequently enough in scenes of mortal vs. god to demonstrate that the poet viewed such events as versions of the theme of divine action (cf. 5.438 = 5.459 = 5.884). The simile in this position occurs also when Patroclus attacks Apollo and when Achilles attacks Apollo as he carries Hector off in a cloud (16.705 and 20.447). In each of these five related passages the simile is the same: "δαίμονι ίσος". At 21.252 and 257 Achilles retreats before the advances of the river Xanthus in a scene of mortal vs. god containing two similes. The fact that the subject of these similes differs from the other battles of man vs. god indicates that the placement is a traditional feature and dependent on context, while the content of the simile can change without affecting the tradition determining placement. Further examples occur at Od. 12.418 = Od. 14.308, Od. 12.433, and Od. 5.371.

There are at least three alternative ways of singing passages describing the actions of gods. The scene can be directly told with the enhancement due to divinity contained in the words and phrases of the narrative. The picture of Vulcan's workshop and Calypso's isle and cave are examples of this treatment (18.410 ff. and Od. 5.59 ff). Secondly, the reactions of men can show their awe at a divine appearance, as when Athena holds the aegis before the suitors, and they scatter in panic (Od. 22.299). Finally the poet can insert a simile.

There are repeated similes in this category. Apollo and Ares shout loudly; both shouts are described by the same simile:

ὅσσόν τ ἐννεάχιλοι ἐπίαχον ἢ δεκάχιλοι ἀνέρες ἐν πολέμῳ ἔριδα ξυνάγοντες Ἄρηος. (5.860 and 14.149)

Odysseus is twice beautified by Athena and the simile is repeated (Od. 6.232 and Od. 18.193). Twice Zeus sends a storm to scatter Odysseus' ships; each time the same simile appears as part of a repeated scene (Od. 12.418 and Od. 14.308). Because none of these repeated similes occurs elsewhere in the Homeric poems, it seems that they were traditional alternatives accompanying scenes of divine action.

3A. Actions of Spirits and Monsters

Several objects and events in the Homeric poems are connected with ghostly appearances or monsters. While these characters are not gods, still the use of the simile to describe the actions of a being other than human suggests that the simile is placed in this context because of a close relation to the theme of divine action. An oral poet probably thinks more about the objects and actions which form the themes of his narrative than about abstract categories; it would, therefore, be unfair to predicate a category of strange or unusual occurrences. Most representative of the poet's thinking is a grouping of the scenes of divine actions where a simile occurs; separately one can construct a list of the relatively smaller number of similes which describe the acts of other non-human beings.

There are two occasions where ghosts are described by a simile. When Achilles tries to embrace the ghost of Patroclus, it eludes his grasp and flees like smoke (23.100), and similarly the souls of the suitors are like bats (Od. 24.6).

The most frequent examples of this use of the simile reinforce the action of the giants or monsters in the Odyssey. The giant wife of the Laestrygonian king causes horror, and the Laestrygonians spear the Greeks from the sea like fishermen (Od. 10.113 and 124). The Cyclops dashes out the brains of these diminutive Greeks as though they were puppies, eats them as a lion eats its prey, and sets a huge rock in place at his cave door as easily as a man places a lid on a quiver (Od. 9.289, 292, and 314). When Odysseus and his men enact their vengeance on their uncouth host, they struggle like a man drilling a ship timber and Polyphemus' eye hisses as loudly as a huge, hot axe-head dipped into water (Od. 9.384 and 391).

Turning again momentarily to the content, one should notice that these similes reinforce the idea of giants as inflated men, who live recognizably normal lives but on a monstrous scale. I have commented previously on Homer's desire to keep descriptions of fantasy worlds on a realistic scale,[12] an aim fully evident in the frequent use of similes to illustrate the wondrous world of the Cyclops. The similes describe an act that normal-sized men would do, like putting a lid on a quiver or spearing a fish, but the narrative event so illustrated is giant-sized. Similes from normal life enhance the realistic and awesome massiveness of the fantasy world of the Odyssey.

4. Themes of Specific Emotions

It has been maintained that Homer lacked the words and, consequently, the ability to express precisely complex phenomena within the soul.[13] He could appreciate the feelings and could describe the extremes of ecstasy and agony but could not analyze the subtle psychological causes of such feelings or talk easily about simultaneous opposing forces involved in an inner struggle. With such linguistic studies few have found fault. To express feelings of joy, sorrow, anger, and fear the poet has verbs. These verbs are the poet's most common means for expressing emotion: δείδιας, ἀχνύμενος, ἰάνθη, and ἐχάρη are easy and direct presentations of psychological feeling. There are also nouns representing emotions: μένος, χόλος, θάρσος, ἄχος. Finally there are adjectives like ἀσπαστὸς, Χαίρων, and ἐχθρὸς to describe the emotion aroused in a person when brought in contact with an object or event. Usually descriptions of emotions which are built from such words are short statements of fact. The poet does not look inside the person for the cause of the disturbance or the complexity of the human response. The situation is clear enough to justify the emotion and no secondary feelings or inner tensions are presented.

Though the poet does not analyze emotion explicitly, he does have varying ways of recording psychological phenomena. Through these descriptions he portrays all the intensity of feeling that more learned later writers were able to attain with later sophistication. One of his methods was to emphasize various emotional states by using a simile.[14]

The distinction between content and context must be strictly maintained. There are many similes in the two poems in which an emotion is clearly portrayed, while the context does not deal with emotion. In Book 15 Hector revives and returns to battle like a horse that has broken his bonds; the animal runs over the plain proudly with head held high. This is a picture of a supremely exultant and self-confident stallion, though the surrounding narrative does not talk of emotion. Hector returns to battle swiftly, encouraging the Trojans. The listener will, of course, realize the joy of the warrior returning to the field because of the simile; remove the simile and the joy is gone. Yet this simile does not belong in this category, since it provides the emotion rather than emphasizing it explicitly. Appropriate similes occur where the context mentions the inner feeling.

An example of such a simile is 23.598:

ἰάνθη ὡς εἴ τε περὶ σταχύεσσιν ἐέρση ληΐου ἀλδήσκοντος, ὅτε φρίσσουσιν ἄρουραι· ὣς ἄρα σοὶ Μενέλαε μετὰ φρεσὶ θυμὸς ἰάνθη.

But his anger was softened just as the dew on the ears of corn when the crop is full-grown and the fields bristle with stalks. In such a way, Menelaus, was the heart softened within you.

The joy of Menelaus is firmly grounded in the narrative, since he has brought Antilochus to justice and received his prize. This delight is contained in the one verb ἰάνθη. Following the verb is a simile describing this joy, and finally a line closes the simile binding it again to Menelaus' happiness. A simile, either short or long, so intensifies the narrative description of emotion twenty-seven times in the two poems (Iliad 15; Odyssey 12). Always the emotion is mentioned in the narrative—either directly before or after the simile, and often in both places.

Homer did not conceive of psychological activity or emotional states in a general way. Such conceptions are the tools of the modern scholar with which he can analyze the abstract patterns in the Homeric poems, but one should always be aware that the poet thought of using the simile when a man was joyful or when he was sorrowful or angry or terrified. The oral poet would have thought of similes as accompanying several explicit emotions in his narrative. Odysseus is joyful to see land after the storm (Od. 5. 394), and Penelope weeps with joy to see Odysseus (Od. 23.233). She weeps in sorrow (Od. 19.205), and Achilles laments over Patroclus (19.366). Agamemnon's eyes blaze angrily with fire (1.104), and Odysseus' heart barks in anger (Od. 20.14). Both Paris and Agamemnon quail in fear (3.33 and 10.5). Whenever the theme of the joyful man, the sorrowful man, the angry man, or the fearful man arose, the basic theme could be elaborated by a simile.

Perhaps the scene of anger deserves special mention:

his black heart was filled full with rage and his eyes were like a blazing fire (1.103-4 and Od. 4.661-2)

These two lines describe Agamemnon's anger at Calchas and also the anger of Antinous. Most probably such repeated lines were a traditional way of expressing anger, and the simile was a customary part of these lines. That the comparison of the eyes to fire occurs two more times indicates that when the poet sang of wrath, one alternative was a mention of the glowing eyes in an accompanying simile (19.17 and 366).

There are, then, these two methods of portraying emotion: the direct statement and the simile used to modify specific emotions. In addition, the poet can picture the person's physical acts—tears of joy or sorrow, groans, trembling, sleeplessness, shrieking; the list could be endless. Good examples are the physical manifestations of grief shown by Achilles when he hears of Patroclus' death or the wails of Penelope (18.22 ff. and Od. 4.715 ff.). Often such physical manifestations introduce a simile. The tears of joy shed by Odysseus and Telemachus when they first meet are made more moving by a simile (Od. 16.216). Finally Homer can allow a character to reveal his emotion directly. The speeches of Agamemnon and Achilles in Iliad I are angry; the laments of Andromache, Hecuba, and Helen express their sorrow.

One variety of psychological activity which is not precisely an emotion, but is a common occurrence in the poems, is perplexity. A man is confronted with choice and pauses to consider his options.[15] The usual Homeric description is διάνδιχα μερμήριξεν, but a feeling of indecision can also be expressed by a simile. Nestor ponders the proper course of action:

Just as when the sea surges up high in a soundless wave and gives warning of swift gusts of the shrill wind, but the waves roll neither this way nor that until some settled wind comes down from Zeus, thus the old man pondered with his mind uncertain . . . (14.16-20)

The act of pondering is mentioned in the narrative and only reinforced by the picture of the simile. Three other scenes are handled in the same way. Penelope ponders the fate of her son thinking the thoughts of a trapped lion (Od. 4.791). Later when Penelope speaks to Odysseus disguised as a beggar, she characterizes her doubt and sorrow with a simile about Aedon, the nightingale (Od. 19.518). Odysseus on the night before his revenge mulls over the coming day rolling from side to side (Od. 20.25).

These are Homer's ways of showing several specific human feelings or emotions. In the two poems there are at least four alternative methods. He could state the emotion directly; he could modify the individual theme with a simile; he could describe the character's physical movements; or he could have the character tell his own emotions. The choice of method does not seem based on the narrative value of the event, thus the anger of Antinous is told in the same words as Agamemnon's anger, but the importance of the two angers to the larger narrative is vastly different (Od. 4.622 and 1.104). Achilles' sorrow for Patroclus takes almost all forms but the simile, and yet no other statement of the theme of the warrior mourning for a lost comrade is so basic to the plot. It seems so appropriate that Achilles roll on the ground and defile himself when he is told of Patroclus' death that a simile would be too indirect. Equally the touch of the artist has set the other passages in order; the mark of the true poet is his ability to choose correctly among the available alternatives.

5. Similes for Variation of Standard Themes

One of the disadvantages of being the heir to a traditional style of epic with standard characters and type scenes is that the poet must ever devote his attention to varying scenes which are inevitably repetitious. A simile is often used as seasoning to lend diversity to traditional or repeated scenes. There are thirty-one such similes, both long and short (Iliad 28; Odyssey 3).

A mere listing of objects could be very dull: Homer, however, introduces variety into his lists in many ways, often with a simile. In the catalogue of Trojans a simile illustrates Nastes' folly, and the list of the suitors' gifts to Penelope contains a gold chain with amber beads which are as bright as the sun (2.872 and Od. 18.296).

A modified type of list is the naming of one warrior after another. While sitting on the Scaean Gate with the Trojan elders, Priam asks about Agamemnon, Odysseus, and Ajax. To vary his questions he uses two similes to distinguish Odysseus (3.196 and 197). When Agememnon inspects the troops, he comes upon Idomeneus, Ajax, Nestor, Menestheus, and Odysseus. To help differentiate the individual groups of soldiers, Idomeneus and Ajax are described in similes (4.253 and 275). In the Doloneia Agamemnon goes to wake the Greek heroes. He awakens Nestor, Odysseus, and Diomedes. The armor of Diomedes shines like lightning (10.154), and is thus different from the previous description of Nestor's armor, which had more pieces but only gleamed (10.75-79). In each case there is a series of men all of whom are doing essentially the same thing. As Homer moves from one to the other, he inserts a simile here and there, characterizing each man and distinguishing him from the others, but also rescuing his audience from the tedium of a list of utterly similar objects.[16]

Finally the simile is used to give color to the most common scene in the Iliad, the killing of an enemy. As Teucer aims at Hector twice, missing his target both times, he does strike a lesser hero (8.300 ff.). The first time he kills Gorgythion who bows his head to the side like a poppy, heavy with its blossoms and the rains of spring, while the second man, Archeptolemus, merely falls from the chariot. But the two short passages begin in the same way. Compare lines 8.300-1 and 309-10:

Ἦ ῥα καὶ ἄλλον ὀϊστὸν ἀπὸ νευρῆφιν ἴαλλεν Ἕκτορος ἀντικρύ, βαλέειν δέ ἑ ἵετο θυμός·

Τεῦκρος δ ἄλλον ὀϊστὸν ἀπὸ νευρῆφιν ἴαλλεν Ἕκτορος ἀντικρύ, βαλέειν δέ ἑ ἵετο θυμός.

The lines are almost the same; the action is almost the same, and yet the scenes are different. The first contains a simile, and the second introduces and motivates a small episode featuring Hector, Teucer, and Ajax. Because scenes of warrior killing enemy are so common, there is no need each time for a close balance with similar opening lines to demonstrate the demand for variation. Almost all scenes of wounding must be supplemented in some way. The dullness of unaugmented lists of the slaughtered demonstrates the need for diversity (5.677 ff. and 705 ft.).

There are many alternative methods of varying such repeated scenes, as a passage at the beginning of Book 5 demonstrates, 5.144- 166. In order, there is an unadorned killing of a pair, a killing of a pair whose father is mentioned, a killing of another pair with a mention of the father's future sorrow, and a killing of a pair accompanied by a simile. The alternatives are too numerous to list. But the poet always had at hand and often used the simile.

In general the many types of lists which appear throughout the Iliad and the Odyssey do not in themselves constitute a theme but rather a technique of composition, a technique deeply rooted in the paratactic mentality of the oral singer.[17] The poet probably never had a general concern about the amount of variety in his poems. Whenever he found himself singing a list, he must have seen in the eyes of his audience and felt almost instinctively that he could not merely repeat item after item without some relief. Such variation is evident in the lists of Yugoslav bards. Salih Ugljanin in The Song of Bagdad introduces separately six warriors. The listing technique is evident when he marks the entrance of each hero by singing that the plain thundered, however each time there follows a highly varied description of each warrior.[18]

Yet it is clear that the repetitious killing of a series of warriors one by one occurs often enough in the Homeric poems to be identified as a theme. At moments such as these when the oral poet sang a type of list which was, in addition, a theme of composition, he employed several standard means of variation, among which was the simile. To define the precise motivation for the simile is impossible; it is sufficient to demonstrate that in such passages the simile accompanies either the theme or the technique.

6. General Scenes of the Armies

Homer's narrative moves like a series of waves. One short scene comes after another, with a slight pause in between when all individual action fades away and the poet scans the battlefield quickly.[19] He looks at the Trojan army, then at the Greek army, and then moves to another part of the battlefield for a new scene with new characters. The course of the fighting after Hector's healing is a clear example.

15.

262-270

Hector returns to battle (simile  [20] )

271-280

General scene: the Greek army is afraid (simile)

281-305

Thoas speaks and encourages the Greek heroes to stand

306-311

General scene:  Trojan army, Hector, and Apollo

312-327

General scene: Greek army stands until frightened by Apollo (simile)

328-342

List of individual Trojan killings

343-366

General scene:  Greek army, Hector, Trojan army, Apollo (two similes)

367-389

General scene: Greek army, Nestor, Zeus, Trojan army (simile),  Greek army

390-404

Patroclus and Eurypylus

405-414

General scene: Greek army, Trojan army (simile)

415—

Hector and Ajax—individual battles

Between the scenes of individual heroes and individual actions fall general scenes of both armies. The men mentioned by name in these general scenes are agents of the army not engaged in a scene of individual combat. The picture of the Trojan army with Hector and Apollo in the lead is a general picture of the Trojan army and its movement, as it is the scene in which Nestor prays for the Greek army. These thematic scenes may be easily distinguished from the later scenes where Hector and Ajax individually engage in combat killing enemy men one by one. This type of alternation, where a general scene alternates with a scene of individual achievement, is common in the war books of the Iliad. Very often a simile accompanies the general description of the army with its heroes. There are four examples of such a simile in the lines cited above; there are eighty-six such similes both long and short in the two poems (Iliad 82; Odyssey 4).

Often the general scene will be a picture of one army fighting a single enemy hero. In the battle over Patroclus' body Menelaus fends off the Trojan army; later Ajax does the same. One is likened to a lion confronting dogs and herdsmen; the other, to a boar scattering the hunters and their dogs (17.61 and 281). At other times the one hero terrifies the enemy army into ineffectiveness, as when Agamemnon rushes through the Trojan ranks at will like a forest fire (11.155) or when the Trojans cower before Achilles like defenseless fish before a dolphin (21.22).

Sometimes such a general picture does not contain a description of each army, rather it is a wide view of the battle, when neither side has the advantage (12.421, 15.410, and 17.389).[21]

The army as a whole is not always merely the background against which the heroes perform their feats. Often it has the additional role of main actor as in Book 2 when the movements of the hordes of Greeks are an essential part of the story. Each time the army as a body acts in this book, there is a simile (2.87, 144 and 147, 209, 394).[22] Later the army sits as do the gods and heroes, and here as an actor it is again described by a simile (7.63).

Although the Odyssey is more a poem of single men, there are scenes with mobs of people.[23] As might be expected, these groups are pictured in similes. The suitors flee before Athena like cattle driven by a horse-fly and the herdsmen charge them like vultures (Od. 22.299 and 302). Odysseus comes upon the slain suitors who are fallen in a heap like fish which have been drawn from the ocean

in a net; he, their enemy, sits among them like a bloodstained lion (Od. 22.384 and 402).

There are so many different situations where a mob of people is depicted with a simile; indeed, this is the most common use of the simile. There seems to be no precisely definable alternative. Fortunately the various situations in which such a scene is sung offer such variation in themselves that the lack of a limited list of precise alternatives is not a loss deeply felt.

7. Summary Scenes before Battle

There are places in the Homeric poems where an overall view or summary of the various elements in a complicated situation occurs consistently enough to be called a theme of composition. Before a battle the poet often sings a type of review or catalogue. In Books 2, 3, 4, 5, 10 and 16 of the Iliad there is a listing of warriors on one side or the other before the main fighting begins, as in Book 5 there is a preliminary list of the Greek leaders, each of whom kills one man before Diomedes begins his aristeia. In Book 3 it is the series of questions from Priam about the various warriors on the field. In Book 2 stand the catalogues of ships, both Greek and Trojan. One can only speculate on the origin of the catalogue and its inclusion in Greek narrative, yet it is significant that even in the small episodes of past battles which Nestor and Agamemnon relate there is a list of warriors; for example:

Never have I seen nor shall I see again men like Perithous or Dryas, the shepherd of the people, Caeneus and Exadius and godlike Polyphemus and Theseus, the son of Aegeus, a man like the gods; these were raised as the strongest men on the earth. They were the strongest and they fought with the strongest, the wild beast men who lived in the mountains; and they destroyed them terribly. And I went along with them coming from Pylos . . . (1.262 ff.)

Agamemnon, in shaming Diomedes by recalling the exploits of his father Tydeus among the Cadmeians, lists briefly the names of the individual warriors before the battle even though these names are not very significant in his story (4.391 ff.). It seems that there was a tradition of listing the participants before beginning to narrate an event like a battle scene, which contained little opportunity for introducing each character as he appeared on the scene.[24] These passages, both long and short, offer a summary view of the army and its leaders before the battle commences. Often Homer adds similes to these scenes. There are twenty-six examples of this use of the simile in the Iliad) one in the Odyssey.

This striking difference in usage of summary scenes is related to the difference in story-telling between the Iliad and the Odyssey. The basic story of each poem requires its own style of narration. The Odyssey is the story of one man and his family. Once the focus is set on Odysseus, he continues as the main character for many books as he confronts a series of challenges. When the action moves to the palace in Ithaca, the characters work out the reinstatement of Odysseus and the punishment of the Suitors in a single setting. The plot of the Odyssey depends on single men, each dominating their own sections of the narrative. The Iliad contains many characters who cooperate throughout a series of sporadic appearances to advance the story of men and armies. Summary scenes before the beginning of a major action in the Iliad aid the audience in fixing the general outlines of the situation in their minds as background.

Perhaps the most detailed example of this theme is the catalogue of ships. From the time that the army of the Greeks is marshaled until the two forces march to battle, there is almost no advance of the plot. The intervening four hundred lines contain an overall picture of the two armies. Within this section of narrative there are no fewer than eleven similes describing the Greek army (2.455, 459, 468, 469, 780, and 781), the Greek leaders as a group (2.474), Agamemnon (2.478 and 480), the Trojan army (3.2), and the appearance of both armies (3.10). This is the proper place to have the most extensive catalogue—the first meeting of the armies in the epic. To make the shorter lists as detailed or to load them so heavily with similes would merely retard the story. Thus when Agamemnon arms, there is a short view of the Greek army and one of the Trojan army with three short similes (11.60, 62, and 66); then the action begins. Or when Patroclus arms, there are only the necessary ceremonies and warnings, three views of the Myrmidons, each with a simile (16.156, 212, and 259), and a short mustering of army and generals, then the action commences immediately. In Book 4 the catalogue is not so short. As Agamemnon goes through the army from hero to hero, similes describe his meetings with Idomeneus and the Ajaxes. Then comes the advance of the endless Greek army and a simile (4.422) followed by the polyglot clamor of the Trojans illustrated by a simile (4.433). In the Teichoscopia there are two similes for Odysseus as Priam reviews the Greek heroes.

8. Entrance of the Hero

A character's first entrance into the epic narrative can be dramatic and significant like Agamemnon's or Andromache's; or it can be treated as though he were expected to be there and needed no introduction like Patroclus' and Apollo's entrances in Book 1. In later poets the first appearance of a character often reveals character and key imagery,[25] but Homer is not as conscious of this device. As an oral poet he begins his story from a certain point and assumes that all necessary characters are present and functioning even though he has not formally brought them to the scene himself. His attention is focused on the entrance of a character within the story. If a man must be built up for a demanding task or an important role, Homer singles him out from the omnipresent group of available characters and speaks about his ability, his armor, his present activity, or some other detail. But if an unnoticed entrance is aesthetically proper, Homer can introduce a character without fanfare. For example, Priam appears at Achilles' feet unseen by those in the tent and almost unmentioned by the poet as he enters (24.471 ff.). This is not the entrance of a king; and in view of the coming scene with its emphasis on the common bonds of humanity, it should not be.

Homer is highly sensitive to such entrances; one of his common methods of introducing a character into an episode is the simile. When Sarpedon is roused by Zeus to start the breaking of the Greek wall, Homer says that the wall would not have been broken if Sarpedon had not been given strength. To introduce the warrior for this short scene, the poet uses two similes:

Never would the Trojans and glorious Hector have broken the gates and long door-bar of the wall if Zeus the counselor had not roused his son Sarpedon against the Argives, like a lion against the cattle with curved horns. . .

Holding his shield in front of him and shaking two spears he went like a lion raised in the mountains. . . (12.290-293 and 298 ff.)

Entrances of characters into the narrative are described with a simile sixty-nine times in the two poems (Iliad 52; Odyssey 17) by both long and short similes.[26]

The most common entrance is that of the hero before his aristeia. Diomedes briefly enters the battle three times before he finally begins his aristeia. Athena gives him strength and courage, and his helmet shines like a star (5.5). Then there is a small scene during which Diomedes kills a minor hero Phegeus and takes his horses. Two gods converse, and other Greek leaders kill one man each. Then Diomedes comes into battle again—not forgotten, merely left aside for a flurry of Greek victories to prepare his way, and sweeps across the plain like a flood (5.87). Then he is wounded, cured, and receives instructions from Athena before he finally enters battle for a third time like a lion in his rage (5.136). This passage is a carefully arranged prelude to an aristeia: Greek victories, favor of the goddess with divine instructions pointing ahead in the action, and similes to glorify the hero. Before his aristeia Agamemnon is also ennobled by the magnificence of his armor with a simile in the midst of this description (11.27). But the most elaborate introduction is the lengthy preparation of Achilles. Within the twenty-five lines of his arming four similes describe the gleam of Achilles' shield, helmet, and full armor (19.374, 375, 381, and 398).

Such introductions are also used for lesser events than an aristeia. As Ajax goes to single combat with Hector, his fearsomeness is emphasized by two similes stressing his bigness and might (7.208 and 219). Teucer, who enjoys a minor profusion of successful shots, is brought to the audience's attention by a simile (8.271). Not always are the trials of war involved. Telemachus is magnified by a simile as he goes to address the council and before he undertakes his trip to Menelaus (Od. 2.5 and Od. 3.468). Menelaus is introduced with a simile before he begins the narrative of his troubles and sufferings in returning from Troy (Od. 4.310). These scenes all portray men who are momentarily set apart from the rest of the army and heroes because they are going to draw the spotlight of the narrative to themselves in undertaking a new and perhaps difficult task. A simile can produce a momentary pre-eminence.

The hero, however need not always have a specific task ahead of him. A simile is employed to bring heroes into prominence on the battlefield, even if they have been there but were unnoticed during a previous scene. In Book 16 of the Iliad Patroclus dominates all other characters. When he dies, the fight is reformed about his body and several great heroes re-enter the battle, many with a simile. Menelaus stands over Patroclus like a mother cow, and later Ajax drives Hector away like a lion (17.4 and 17.133). Like a flame Hector, who has stood aside after killing Patroclus, is fired into battle rage and shouts to his comrades (17.88). In the same fashion Paris enters battle with Hector after the peaceful scene with Andromache (6.506, 513, and 7.4).

Figures who have no real effect on the story but are introduced into the narrative and play a role for a single scene often receive a simile. The elders of Troy are important only for the Teichoscopia. Astyanax has a part in the Hector-Andromache scene, and the rather housewifely Helen of the Odyssey is an interesting addition for the listener who knew the full epic cycle, but beyond their own scenes these characters do not enter the plot. A simile introduces them in these scenes (3.151, 6.401, and Od. 4.122). Even characters in a short narration can be made momentarily larger by a simile, as Iphitus, who gave the bow to Odysseus, and Theseus, a fellow warrior of Nestor, are both like gods (Od. 21.14, Od. 21.37, and 1.265).[27]

Finally similes appear with people who have been absent from the narrative, because hindered, and now return. Hector is kept away from Agamemnon by Zeus' command in Book 11 and wounded in Book 14. Each time he is described by a simile as he re-enters battle (11.292, 295, and 15.263). Briseis has been taken by Agamemnon, and when she returns, her reappearance is modified by two similes (19.282 and 286). Menelaus in Book 3 disappears from the narrative when Aphrodite removes his opponent. When he re-enters the narrative, he is described by a simile (3.449).

These examples all show characters coming into the narrative. To introduce them, sometimes to glorify them and sometimes merely to call attention to them, the poet uses a simile. The choice between short or long seems aesthetic. Achilles attracts both before his aristeia, while Diomedes is described only by long similes. Patroclus has none in his preparations.[28]

9. Withdrawal of the Hero

Complementary to the theme of the entrance of the hero is the theme of the withdrawal of the hero. Since such retreats usually mark a reversal in the action, the similes which accompany this theme are an attempt by the poet to call attention to an act common in every war story, but with extra significance in the particular context. For example, Zeus tells Hector to withdraw from the battle until Agamemnon retreats. As soon as the pains grow too severe for Agamemnon and he must leave the battlefield, there is a simile (11.269). Immediately Hector re-enters the fight for his fatal day of glory—until the sun goes down. When Hector is wounded by Ajax, the Greeks are free to advance and to drive the Trojans back over the wall and the ditch. They are successful until Hector's return. To emphasize this pivotal loss to the Trojans Homer describes Hector's withdrawal with two similes (14.413 and 414). When Pandarus wounds Menelaus, the treaty is broken and the war continues; a simile is used to describe the wound (4.141). In the battle for Patroclus' body Menelaus makes two significant retreats, both described by similes: Hector takes the arms of Achilles when Menelaus is forced to fall back like an overawed lion and later Menelaus withdraws to start the ominous message of Patroclus' death on its way to Achilles (17.109, 657 and 674).

II. Similes as Poetic Technique

1. Emphasis on Anticipated Meetings

One of the basic concerns of the oral poet is the proper telling of certain facts, but not all types of facts. The various shields which one warrior can bear in the course of one scene have long since been noted as glaring inconsistencies, yet there are few inconsistencies in the building of the basic plot. Events which are necessary or will later be important are not forgotten. Since the poet must continually guide his audience's sense of his story, he must anticipate and arrange the important meetings. The final battle between Hector and Achilles is foreshadowed throughout the Iliad ; the regaining of home and family by Odysseus is consistently the goal of the endless toil of the Odyssey. Since the poet knew that certain confrontations would take place, he could prepare his audience for them by introducing similes describing the participants as the actual meeting approached. The similes allowed the poet to dwell a little longer on the important characters and, thereby, to heighten the tension by making the audience realize that the critical moment, which they had expected, was near. Athena sends Nausicaa to the beach when Odysseus is sleeping. When all other work is done and she begins to play ball with her handmaids, either the meeting will come before the game is finished or not at all. Nausicaa at the start of this game is set apart from her servants by a simile (Od. 6.102). Then one of the maidens throws the ball into the water; their cry wakes Odysseus who comes out of the bush to this prearranged meeting like a lion (Od. 6.130). Such preluding and emphasizing of anticipated confrontations is accomplished by means of short or long similes thirty-six times in the two poems (Iliad, 25; Odyssey 11).

When Telemachus returns to Ithaca and goes to Eumaeus' hut, the audience knows that his father is sitting before him. This is a meeting which Odysseus has long desired—his first reacquaintance with family—and Telemachus' entrance is marked by a simile (Od. 16.17). When they embrace one another, there is also a simile (Od. 16.216). When Penelope meets the beggar and hears his tale, this is the long awaited first meeting; only later does the true recognition take place. But this first meeting contains three similes (Od. 19.54, 205, and 211). This is a type of unfulfilled or unsuccessful meeting, when the awaited confrontation occurs, but there is no decisive outcome. There are other examples of such meetings. Every hearer who knew the causes of the Trojan War must have anticipated the battle between Menelaus and Paris, but when these two meet at the beginning of the third book of the Iliad, Paris shrinks back into the army from fear. However since it is a meeting much anticipated by the audience, both heroes are characterized with a simile (3.23 and 33).

The simile can be used in widely separated passages to emphasize and maintain interest in an impending meeting. That Hector and Achilles, each as the great champion of the warring armies, must fight becomes more inevitable as the Iliad progresses: first it is rivalry; then it is duty. A confrontation, marked with a simile (20.423), occurs in Book 20, but Hector is saved for the moment by Apollo. Later as Hector stands alone before the walls of Troy and Achilles rushes towards him for their fatal encounter, there are no fewer than eleven similes describing Hector, Achilles, or the appearance of the two. First there are five similes—three for Achilles and two for Hector. Then four similes describing the chase. Finally a simile for Hector's fruitless lunge and one for the fateful spear point which will kill Hector. Exclusive of content the position of the similes alone emphasizes this expected confrontation (22.22, 26, 93, 132, 134, 139, 162, 189, 199, 308, 317).

In the Patrokleia a similar meeting occurs. A simile describes the mares of Troy bearing Hector away from Patroclus (16.384). Later Hector and Patroclus fight over the body of Hector's charioteer, Cebriones, which Patroclus stands over like a lion. Hector and Patroclus then fight like two lions in an inconclusive battle which leads back to a scene of general battle (16.752 and 756). Later when Hector delivers the death blow, as expected a simile describes it (16.823).

The battle between Sarpedon and Patroclus contains three similes (16.428, 482, and 487). To what extent this was a rivalry in the heroic tradition is unknown. The poet has presented their meeting as decisive and predicted its outcome in a scene on Olympus, so that the audience would at least anticipate Sarpedon's death (15.67).[29] Evidence is, however, lacking to state firmly that this was an essential and expected conflict.[30] The battle between Achilles and Aeneas seems to have been a part of the tradition. They had met once before on Mount Ida, where apparently Aeneas fled with no fight. This story is told at 20.187 ff., and because this story is known, there is reason for using a simile at their meeting in Book 20 (164). The battle between Aeneas and Diomedes in Book 5 is built up to such a point that a simile describes Aeneas' movement as he takes his stand before Diomedes (5.299).

In these last three examples it must be remembered that the battle could be in the tradition, anticipated by the audience and the poet, and given poetic color by the addition of similes.[31] Or it could be merely in the poet's mind to make two men the center of interest for a minute, since all men treated with this technique are heroes, not little men who are expendable. The battle is, therefore, an object of interest because of its participants. The addition of a simile could be one alternative method of pairing two well- known heroes and making them focal points for the immediate narrative.

Meetings and confrontations occur throughout both poems, and the alternative means of stressing such meetings are infinitely varied. There are several scenes in which the poet uses a simile or a series of similes to emphasize the coming confrontation of two major figures. Perhaps these meetings were well known from the tradition of epic song, or perhaps the poet wanted to use such figures to center his narrative momentarily. In either case similes make the two characters distinct from other figures in the background and give their meeting importance. The oral poet need only anticipate well-known confrontations before beginning the episode and then plan his alternatives.

2. The Joining of two Scenes

Because oral narrative is inevitably episodic, the poet must tell one episode separately from another while attempting to introduce reminiscences here and there which will not permit the audience to forget the first episode while hearing the second. At this type of juncture in the narrative the poet must impress firmly upon his listeners' mind the picture to which he wishes to refer later; if the scene is sufficiently emphasized, the audience can be expected to remember it. Later the poet is able to return in his song to that scene, and, by joining the present and the previous scenes, present a single unified event. This is one of the few methods an oral poet possesses to present two simultaneous actions. While Antilochus bears his fateful message to Achilles, the battle over Patroclus' body continues. Finally the Greeks under Ajax's command have some success and begin to carry the body back toward the ships, but the Trojans resist firmly, and there is a chance that Patroclus will fall again into their hands. At the end of Book 17 the poet summarizes this scene treating individually Menelaus and Meriones who are carrying the body, the two Ajaxes who are holding off the Trojans, Hector and Aeneas, the Trojan army, and the Greek army. Then the narrative shifts to Achilles' tent for Antilochus' report. Since only one hundred and fifty lines later the poet will wish to return to the battlefield where affairs have not changed substantially, he makes the summary picture at the end of Book 17 a colorful and, therefore, notable scene—one which will be remembered easily by his audience. Thus he can lead back to it after an intervening section of the narrative. Often Homer fills such scenes with similes which permit the poet to dwell upon the scene a bit longer and to call attention to its subsequently important details one by one. There are twelve examples of this use of the simile in the Iliad; one in the Odyssey.

The scene at the end of Book 17 contains five similes. Almost every item in it except Hector and Aeneas provides a point of comparison upon which a simile is built (17.725, 737, 742, 747, and 755). When the poet returns to this scene, the two protagonists, Hector and Ajax, each are described in a simile (18.154 and 161), a type of small summary to recall the previous situation for the audience. A parallel pattern of summary and recall occurs at the end of Book 15 when the scene is about to switch to Achilles' camp. The signal for Patroclus' entrance into battle is to be the smoke from a burning ship. The poet describes Ajax' attempts to hold Hector away from the ship, describes each hero with a simile to emphasize the scene, and then returns to it some lines later in Book 16 when Achilles sees the fire from the ships (15.679, 690, and 16.114 ff.). In Book 11 the grudging retreat of Ajax serves to summarize the battle situation before the scene shifts to Achilles standing alone by his ship watching his chances for glory disappear. The fatal weakness of the Greeks will be the subject of the rest of the book and is background for the futile battle around the wall in Book 12. Later when Nestor appeals to Patroclus and tells of the Greek defeat, his words have heightened meaning for an audience which remembers the weakness of the Greeks as symbolized by the picture of the hero Ajax in retreat. Ajax' stubborn withdrawal is described in three similes (11.546, 548, and 558).[32] As the final example, Odysseus, when he falls asleep on the Phaeacian shore, is compared to a coal among embers (Od. 5.488). Then the scene shifts to the palace. Later Homer joins the two scenes when Nausicaa comes to the beach.

3. Emphasis in Short Episodes

The poet not only concentrates on the larger story; he must also sustain his audience's interest by singing the smaller scenes well, and essential to this process is proper emphasis on important constituent elements. If all events are sung as though they were of the same significance, the poem would seem repetitiously monotonous, but by shifting emphasis in individual scenes the poet maintains a story which is not only well structured but also entertaining. One means of achieving this variation is highlighting: the thoughtful presentation of a scene with a center of interest around which the minor events arrange themselves. I am speaking here only of shorter scenes in which the audience could appreciate the technique within a single section of narrative. One method of achieving such emphasis is the simile.

The first example is Iliad 13.198. This is an outline of the scene which surrounds these lines (169-205):

169

General line

170-181

Teucer kills Imbrius and simile  [33]

182-185

Teucer rushes to strip him but Hector stops him

185-187

Hector slays Amphimachus

188-194

Hector rushes to strip Amphimachus but Ajax prevents him and the Greeks take the bodies

195-205

Amphimachus is taken away with his armor and the Ajaxes strip and defile body of Imbrius and simile  [34]

206-—

Start of aristeia of Idomeneus

This small scene of battle is prelude to the aristeia of Idomeneus; as the aristeia of Diomedes is introduced by a scene of Greek victories, so here a scene which shows total, albeit momentary, Greek superiority precedes the hero's entrance. The key to this victory is the stripping of a warrior. Teucer tries to strip the man whom he has killed but fails. Then Hector tries to strip a man he has killed and also fails. After the Greeks take both bodies, the Ajaxes despoil the Trojan. The simile here emphasizes the Greek victory, a proper prelude to a Greek hero's aristeia. To make the insult clear the poet has Ajax Oileus throw the head at Hector's feet.

While threat of stripping a warrior of his armor is a standard part of the slaying of men as is seen frequently in the Iliad (13.641, 15.545 and 583, 22.258, the beginning of Book 17, and others), in this small scene Homer has caused one element to stand out from the background in order to give direction to his narrative. It is important to note that Homer by his double use of the stripping motif has provided meaning to the telling of this otherwise traditional scene. The simile only aids in stressing elements which are independently significant within the narrative.

The second example of this use of the simile occurs in the long scene 15.552-590. Hector rekindles the Trojans' spirit while Ajax urges the Greeks. But since Zeus favors the Trojans, there is a small scene to show their might at the moment (568 ff.). Antilochus kills Melanippus and springs upon him to strip off his armor; this spring forward is accompanied by a simile. When Hector rushes up and Antilochus flees without a fight, the retreat is also described with a simile. The scene is closed with another reference to Zeus' insuperable aid to the Trojans. The quick movement forward to gain the glory and prizes of victory and the immediate retreat bear ample witness to the Greeks' helplessness. Again Homer underlines the point of this traditional scene by his similes.

In like fashion the sleeping dogs of Eumaeus are as savage as wild beasts (Od. 14.21), a simile which draws the listeners' attention to them momentarily. In a few lines these dogs will receive Odysseus and gain him the instant sympathy and protection of the swineherd. Eumaeus immediately tells the old beggar of his loyalty to his former master: his master's loss is a sorrow equal to that which he would have experienced if Odysseus had been harmed by the dogs. The poet knows that these dogs are important to the immediate narrative and consequently spotlights them with a simile.[35] In the same way Odysseus emphasizes the garment that Penelope herself gave to him and now recognizes (Od. 19.233 and 234).

I have found only six examples of this usage of the simile, a surprising infrequency when one considers the innumerable times that Homer emphasizes an object by discussing it at length, e.g., the bow of Pandarus, which undergoes a detailing of its ancestry, and the staff of the Achaeans, which is taken back to treehood. That the simile is not used frequently in this way suggests that it usually had a more limited function, namely in accompanying a traditional scene or theme and that the poet generally did not consider the simile outside of the rather circumscribed type of events in which it most often occurred.

4. Emphasis on Continuing Motifs throughout the Larger Narrative

In the course of the narrative there are certain pivotal events which have far reaching connections within the larger narrative. These may be occurrences which mark a turn in the development of the plot, or events which must be made prominent because they explain later developments, or themes which provide motivation for the narrative. When the poet sang these scenes, he was careful to provide sufficient detail so that his audience would realize their significance. Often he uses a simile to aid in emphasizing such a scene.

For example, Book 12 opens with a digression on the history of the Greek wall and the goal of the fighting throughout Book 12 is the breaching of this wall. When Hector picks up the huge stone and dashes down the gates of the wall, the fight is won, and the Greeks have only their ships as defense. Homer marks the final breakthrough with two similes (12.451 and 463). One of the most important proofs of Odysseus' identity in Ithaca and a key to his recognition is the bow of Iphitus. When Penelope opens the doors of the storeroom to get the bow, a simile describes their groaning (Od. 21.48). When Odysseus strings the bow and plucks the string to test its firmness, there are two similes (Od. 21.406 and 411).

The simile can also give added stress to an underlying theme which the audience must keep in mind. Achilles' actions in the last part of the Iliad are motivated by his debt to his dead companion Patroclus. Homer's audience must not forget the source of Achilles' unquenchable fury. When the twelve Trojan youths are sent back to the ships as the blood price for Patroclus, they are dazed like fawns (21.29).[36] Later Achilles laments the whole night long as Patroclus' body burns just as a father laments the death of a newly-wed son (23.222). The excess of battle rage which Achilles shows during his aristeia and which he will renounce at the end of the poem would be a type of meaningless madness unless the friendship of the two men were kept in view. Therefore, Homer emphasizes this theme often in the final books of the Iliad, twice with similes.

The story of Agamemnon is introduced as a countermotif throughout the Odyssey. To stress it, the poet describes the murder of Agamemnon twice and the slaying of his companions once with similes (Od. 4.535, Od. 11.411, and Od. 11.413). The fact that the similes at 4.535 and 11.411 are identical suggests that this simile traditionally accompanied this scene, and yet Homer chose to include the simile in order to call attention to the parallel motif of a family awaiting the return of its father and king.

To spotlight these events and motifs—all of which are closely implicated in the later development of the larger story—Homer uses a simile.

III. Similes in Speeches

In the previous classification of similes, a narrative context has been the determining factor. Some Homeric speeches contain narrative, though most offer personal comment upon a scene. The action does not usually advance in a speech; rather one can learn feelings, reactions, and opinions. There are seventy-three similes both long and short contained in speeches (Iliad 42; Odyssey 31).

Several of these similes are placed in contexts similar to the ones in which they are found in the narrative. Men who talk about the whole army often use a simile (2.289, 4.243, 5.476, 11.383, and passim). Similes are used to illustrate infinite number or speed (2.800 and Od. 7.36). A speaker can express the sense of wonder at something strange with a simile (10.547). But for the most part similes in speeches are comparisons drawn for immediate effect rather than satisfaction of a traditional form; the message of the speaker is clearer with the simile. A comparison can occur in speeches in almost any context. Thetis twice calls Achilles a shoot or a tree on an orchard slope (18.56, 57, 437, and 438); Aeneas tells Achilles that he is tired of having them bicker like two women in the street (20.252). Telemachus tells Athena-Mentes that he is as kind to him as a father to a son (Od. 1.308). Instead of being placed traditionally, these similes concisely and pictorially convey the speaker's thoughts and emotions.

For this reason I have not been able to place most of the similes within direct speeches into the previous categories. Those that do fall into a category have been discussed and included in the appropriate group, and those that do not, offer evidence that the simile was always available and often used in a direct speech as an illustrative parallel. The difficulty in categorizing these similes arises from the nature of the Homeric speech—comment rather than action.[37]

Notable exceptions where the placement of similes should correspond to traditional usage are speeches with narrative qualities—the Apologue, Menelaus' story of his return, and Odysseus' tales of his fictional adventures. In such speeches similes are located at the same junctures as in the narrative proper. The principles presented in this study seem to have guided their placement.

Conclusion: The Placement of the Similes

Since the oral poet depends on traditions: a traditional story, traditional diction, traditional scenes, it is only to be expected that one aspect of the oral inheritance concerns the placing of the similes within the narrative. In several locations the simile was a customary alternate method of continuing the tale. For some junctures in the narrative there are sufficient parallels to construct a fairly neat set of alternates, as when a god descends or the action of a divinity is described, there are only three or four ways of singing the scene in the preserved text. Because these junctures coincide with several of the standard themes by which the poet tells his story, the placement of the simile can be described in thematic terms which would be meaningful to the oral poet himself. There are, in addition, four large groups of similes which are joined to poetic techniques employed repeatedly by the poet. These similes allow the poet to emphasize certain details of a traditional scene which might, without the addition of the simile, go unnoticed by the Homeric audience. When the simile is used with certain traditional poetic procedures, it is difficult to isolate alternatives because the placement of the simile is involved far more with the larger movement of the total passage than with the immediately surrounding context. Since patterned situations and poetic needs recur, parallel procedures can still be defined even if the definition is not as precise as the identification of narrative themes.

The choice between alternatives depended mostly on the poet's desires within the individual episode and calculations of importance to the major plot of either epic were usually passed by. The poet chose an alternative because he found it an effective way of composing the immediate scene. When the poet reached one of several types of junctures in composing a theme or developing a traditional passage where he had to make a choice in order to continue his narrative, the simile ran through his mind. Why the simile only accompanied certain themes and poetic procedures and not others, is unknown—possibly unknowable. Similes are not used to emphasize hysteron-proteron structures or the preparation and serving of dinner, and yet the first is a common technique while the second is a standard theme in the Iliad and the Odyssey. Yet when the poet came to certain limited groups of junctures; he knew that the simile could be effectively employed provided that the scene would permit the momentary distraction and elaboration of a simile.

An important piece of corroborative evidence for this method of composition is offered by the seven sets of repeated long similes. These occur in the following locations: 5.782 = 7.256, 5.860 = 14.148, 6.506 = 15.263, 11.548 = 17.657, 13.389 = 16.482, Od. 4-335 = Od. 17.126, Od. 6.232 = Od. 23.159. The similes at 11.548 = 17.657 are identical but for the initial two lines; the remaining similes range from two to six lines and are duplicates. Such sets of similes are significant in two ways.[38] First, the repeated simile is an alternative that was used twice, rather than once. If more oral epic remained, there might be similes found which were repeated three times or even ten times. Though there are, in fact, no similes repeated more than once, those similes that are repeated offer evidence that at least some were units which could be placed freely here and there by the poet without affecting their content. This statement supports the initial insistence on the separation of context and content which underlies this study. Perhaps even more significant is the fact that without exception repeated similes occur within the same context group. Not only is the simile in general a structural unit, but also the tradition suggested one specific simile unit at certain repeated junctures. For example, Paris and Hector are likened to the same proud stallion, and in each case the simile accompanies the entrance of the warrior to the battlefield. As the poet pondered the alternative ways of continuing his song, he chose this particular horse simile twice. The pattern of seven repeated similes each in a limited context is evidence that some similes were alternatives in certain very specific scenes. In each of these scenes there was a very limited and defined number of alternatives given by the tradition, so limited that there are several occasions preserved in the text where the poet chose the same alternative. Repeated passages are far from peculiar to the similes. There are similar repetitions in numerous other types of scenes; for example, scenes where a warrior dies or arms.

There are two conceptions about similes which should be re-examined in the light of the tradition which guides their placement. Fränkel has criticised his predecessors for insisting on the distinction between narrative and simile. He produces examples where the two combine into a unit which cannot be separated without damage to the story.[39] However, if Homer's method of composition is based on a choice between alternates, the simile must be independent from the narrative at least in conception. The poet can make whatever connections he chooses to the story, but he is not bound to do so. Perhaps when he has finished singing the simile, he realizes that it has in itself carried the action into the future, making the bald repetition of the original point of connection unnecessary, though this was probably not in the poet's mind when he chose to sing the simile. His choice was between a simile to illustrate the scene which he has just finished or narrative to continue with the story. The simile as a unit was distinguished sharply from the narrative.[40]

There is also a tendency to identify two quite different types of similes: the short comparisons and the long descriptive similes. If the simile is a traditional element in certain scenes or is one of the normal alternatives, this distinction is probably deceptive. The poet's urge to include a simile would be satisfied equally by a long simile or by a short comparison.[41] In either case the simile would have been formally introduced. For aesthetic reasons the poet may extend it or may check it after a few words; essentially the poet chose to include a simile and this desire was fulfilled by the simile unit, be it long or short. In fact, the long simile was often constructed merely by the addition of extra clauses to a shorter simile. Long similes do not seem different in nature from short similes, only in the method and the length of extension.

Some similes in this study fall into two groups. Though often it is impossible to distinguish exactly the context which suggested the use of the simile to the poet, it is only necessary that one context give the simile its roots in order to show the traditional nature of the simile's location. In an actual performance both could have occurred to a singer. There are only a few similes which do not fall easily into categories, which is to be expected. In the Iliad five per cent do not; in the Odyssey, six per cent, low figures considering that there are 476 similes considered in this study. Traditions in the ancient world are hard to define even when the evidence is largely present. Given that the remains of early Greek epic are so small, it is a testimony to the strength and consistency of the tradition that it can be defined at all. That the simile should come into the poet's mind at a limited number of contexts can only be explained as the result of singing song after song for many years. His practices and customary associations were developed at least partly by the poet himself but, I imagine, came mostly from the oral phrases and techniques of story-telling which had been developed by generations of oral poets through a method which must have been close to trial-and-error. It is in this sense that the placement of the simile is highly dependent on the inherited tradition which the poet had acquired from his earliest years as a listener, an apprentice, and finally a performer.

The singers must ever ponder alternatives. Tradition is a pathway already taken by many, and the common vistas and familiar structures on the way have been seen by all travelers before. The oral artist walks where he can find the best view of the finest familiar sights with imagination and choice as his constant companions. A selection from the old and the new, from the great and the small, from the sophisticated and the plain makes a satisfying and stimulating journey. The route remains the same for all and the sights do not change; selection and emphasis are the keys to the artist's ability.[42]

Notes—Chapter Two

1. A. B. Lord, The Singer of Tales (Cambridge 1960), p. 68.

2. Often this strangeness was marked by a simile; see infra, 24 ff.

3. The significance of the event need not always be quite as great as it is in Book 1, as for example, when Apollo descends at the command of Zeus to carry the body of Sarpedon away for burial (16.676 ff.), the journey from Olympus is motivated, but it does not have the wide-ranging importance of the four journeys in Book 1. In a case like this the significance of the god's entrance must be measured in terms which are fitting both to oral poetry and the particular episode. Sarpedon is the last hero Patroclus meets who offers any resistance, and after Apollo comes for the body of Sarpedon, Patroclus succumbs to the dangerous infatuation of attempting to take Troy. Thus it is not merely the entrance of the god from Olympus which makes this scene significant, but the poet himself in lines 685 ff. calls attention to the new direction of the narrative. Since one of the most imperative demands on an oral poet is the appropriate variation of pace, pauses like this one allow the poet to separate one episode from the other and make a new beginning without becoming entangled in the details of a subtle modulation. This entrance of the god may not be as significant as the appeal by Thetis to Zeus in Book 1, but in terms of the story of Book 16 the entrance of Apollo is important. The same could be said of the frequent entrances and exits of gods and goddesses in Book 5, which mark the turning points in the development of that particular section of the narrative and are, consequently, significant within the framework and perspective of Book 5.

4. This placement of the simile has been noted by deVelsen, p. 7 and Coffey, p. 119 f.

5. Probably the trip of Athena from the suburbs of Phaeacia to her temple at Athens is based on a similar technique; however she is not travelling between worlds (Od. 7.78).

6. This alternative may explain the dark blue veil which Thetis takes with her to go to Zeus at 24.93 ff. It is a minor preparation.

7. This chariot and armor seem to be traditional heavenly equipment, since when Poseidon travels to Troy, the same lines are used (8.41-44 = 13.23-26).

8. This use of the simile was cited by deVelsen, p. 19, Hampe, p. 17 f., and Coffey, p. 124-5.

9. 6.294-5 = Od. 15.107-8. This short simile may have been traditionally connected with these lines which comment on the quality of the robe. The similarities between the two passages extend even further; 6.293 is similar to Od. 15.106 while 6.296 is similar to Od. 15.109.

10. R. Carpenter, Folk Tale, Fiction and Saga in the Homeric Epics (Berkeley 1946), p. 70.

11. Cf. Fränkel, pp. 29 f., 46 f., 56 f., and 99 and Müller, p. 179.

12. See supra, p. 20 ff.

13. Hampe, p. 21, Snell's Chapter One: "Homer's View of Man," and Ε. Α. Havelock, Preface to Plato (Cambridge, Mass. 1963), pp. 197-201.

14. This has often been noted; cf. deVelsen, p. 7, Müller, p. 179, and Coffey, pp. 128-132. Most often the simile in such a scene is justified as the poet's means of expressing what cannot be told in any other available way.

15. W. Arend, Die Typischen Scenen bei Homer (Berlin 1933), pp. 106-115 analyzes scenes where men must make decisions.

16. See Arend op. cit. (supra, n. 15), p. 22 and 29 ff. for a discussion of variation within these two last scenes.

17. See the general discussion of parataxis in J. A. Notopoulos, "Parataxis in Homer: A New Approach to Homeric Literary Criticism," TAPhA 80 (1949), pp. 1-23.

18. M. Parry and A. B. Lord, Serbocroatian Heroic Songs (Cambridge, Mass. 1954) I, p. 74 ff.

19. Cf. Β. Fenik, Typical Battle Scenes in the Iliad (Wiesbaden 1968), p. 19.

20. There are three similes in this section which do not describe groups of men, but they are not the object of interest in this category.

263—The scene opens with the impressive re-entrance of Hector to the battle. Such entrances are often marked with a long simile; see infra, p. 38 ff. 358—The length of the pathway is given by a simile. Similes expressing measurement are common; see supra, p. 20 ff. 362—Apollo scatters the wall as easily as a child scatters sand. Divine action in the human world is usually described with a simile; see supra, p. 24 ff.

21. Fenik op. cit. (supra, n. 19), p. 55 f. points to two similes describing groups in a pattern which is repeated within 35 lines (5.493 ff.). He finds the appearance of such doublets in close proximity common in the Iliad.

22. Hampe, p. 9 ff., analyzes the function of the similes characterizing the army in Book 2. He notes the compactness and increased force of the description in a simile: "Hier galt es, ein im einzelnen nicht mehr erfassbares, unübersehbares, in tausendfaltiger Vielheit sich gleichzeitig abspielendes Geschehen festzuhalten" (p. 13). Cf. deVelsen, p. 7, Müller, p. 179, and Coffey, p. 121.

23. It is noteworthy that these similes occur only in Book 22 where the story is closest to the war scenes of the Iliad.

24. For a more precise discussion of the position of catalogues in the narrative see Fenik op. cit. (supra, n. 19), pp. 80, 153, 167, and 225.

25. Cf. Oedipus in Oedipus Tyrannus ι ff. and Oedipus Coloneus, p. ι ff. The difference in the same man is immediately striking.

26. Cf. Hampe, pp. 21-2: "Schliesslich können Gleichnisse dazu dienen, eine übergewöhnliche Steigerung des Formates auszudrücken, nicht nur bei Göttern, sondern auch bei Helden, vor allem bei dem Haupthelden Achill. Dabei sind äussere Grösse und überragende Bedeutung voneinander nicht zu trennen."

27. The serving woman in Nestor's tent receives a very complimentary phrase: "like the goddesses" (11.638). This woman plays no significant role in this scene nor in the rest of the Iliad. Homer is, however, consciously attempting to stretch out the description of the meal in order to allow time for Patroclus to appear at Nestor's tent and to modulate the pace of the narrative after the battle description (11.613-644). When he introduces a minor character, he may have realized that he had come to a perfectly traditional place for a simile—and, indeed, this small simile would be one other way of lengthening the description of the meal.

28. Patroclus is in many ways marked as a lesser warrior. Cf. infra Cpt. 4, n. 18.

29. For a discussion of the technique of battle description in this scene see Fenik op. cit. (supra, n. 19), p. 204 f.

30. Sarpedon's background in the Iliad is vague. For two contrasting views of his place in the epic tradition see W. Kullmann, Die Quellen der Ilias (Wiesbaden 1960), p. 175, n. 4 and W. Friedrich, Verwundung und Tod in der Ilias (Göttingen 1956), pp. 103-112.

31. Evidence for a tradition underlying the battles of Aeneas with Achilles and Aeneas with Diomedes is gathered by Kullmann op. cit. (supra, n. 30), pp. 281 f., 301, 326, 342, 368. There seems to be no evidence for such a tradition regarding the Aeneas-Idomeneus confrontation. Cf. also H. Erbse, "Über die sogennante Aeneis im 20. Buch der Ilias," RhM 110 (1967), pp. 1-25.

32. It could be objected that fighting does follow the retreat of Ajax (11.575 ff.) and that, when the poet returns to the battlefield, there is no mention of Ajax nor the details of the battle situation (12.2 ff.). Consequently there may be no reason to emphasize the particular retreat of Ajax. However the dangerous weakness of the Greeks does underlie the appeal of Nestor, and this weakness is represented in a summary scene by Ajax—a scene made memorable by similes. In addition, the fighting after Ajax' retreat tells of the wounding of Eurypylus. Patroclus' pity is to be aroused by this man (cf. 11.804 ff. and 15.390 ff.), and such pity eventually drives Patroclus to ask Achilles to relent. The similes do fix the thought of Greek defeat. Only against such thoughts do Nestor's appeal and Patroclus' mercy to Eurypylus have full effect. Cf. W. Schadewaldt, Iliasstudien (3rd ed.; Darmstadt 1966), pp. 17 ff. and 76 ff. Schadewaldt has noted two other examples of this "Klammertechnik" in Books 16 and 18 in "Homerische Szenen," Die Antike 12 (1936) 173-201 on p. 181 f. See also infra Cpt. 4, n. 13.

33. This is a simile used for variation in a common scene; see supra, p. 31 ff. Similes are very usual in this position. In this passage the simile is accompanied by a description of Imbrius' ancestry and previous life. These are both customary variations in repeated scenes that do not distract from the effect of the simile at 198. That is in an unusual spot and at the obvious end of a scene.

34. See Fenik op. cit. (supra, n. 19), pp. 126 ff. and 137 ff. for a discussion of the typical elements in this scene. At 13.195 Homer has underlined the capture of the body to make this scene a meaningful introduction to the aristeia; parallel scenes which mention the capture of the body do not contain the simile.

35. Arend op. cit. (supra, n. 15), p. 44 f. comments on the various changes which the introduction of the untypical dogs cause in the typical scene, and Whitman 292 mentions the importance of these dogs in delineating the character of Eumaeus.

36. This may seem a forced interpretation ; however, the simile does focus the audience's attention for a moment on the debt to Patroclus (cf. 18.336 f.) and the bloodthirsty rage displayed by Achilles in revenging the death, both vital themes in this section of the narrative. Because these twelve young men are not forgotten but are brought forth to be slaughtered on the pyre (23.175), I feel that Homer purposely introduced them in Book 21 with a simile.

37. W. Moog, "Die homerischen Gleichnisse," Zeitschrift für Aesthetik und allgemeine Kunstwissenschaft 7 (1912), pp. 266-302 and 353-371: "Wenn in den Reden weniger Gleichnisse sind, so ist das dadurch bedingt, dass sie wenig aüssere Handlung bieten, an die sich Gleichnisse anknüpfen lassen könnten" (278).

38. In drawing conclusions from the phenomenon of repeated long similes, I am momentarily assuming that they were sung as blocks of lines which were somehow retained as units or partial units in the poet's mind. See Chapter 5 for discussion of the repeated similes and the various theories which have been advanced to explain them; infra, pp. 127-140.

39. Fränkel, p. 5 ff.

40. Further proof for this point can be found in places where the simile goes on beyond the action of the narrative. At 16.156 the Myrmidons are compared to wolves. By the time the simile is developed, the wolves have slain, eaten, and are now gorged, while the Myrmidons are still merely eager to begin battle. The simile has been developed as an individual picture to show the hungry, bloodthirsty, animal-like desire of the Myrmidons for war. Once the poet began the picture, it became in itself the immediate concern—rather than the establishment of a neat balance with the narrative events or a continuation of the story. The simile was an independent picture. Cf. Fränkel, p. 73 ff.

41. Such an attitude is fully in accord with the practice of oral singers as reported by A. B. Lord, op. cit. (supra, n. 1), p. 98: "We are apparently dealing here with a strong force that keeps certain themes together. It is deeply imbedded in the tradition; the singer probably imbibes it intuitively at a very early stage in his career. . . He avoids violating the group of themes by omitting any of its members. . . we shall see that he will even go so far as to substitute something similar if he finds that for one reason or another he cannot use one of the elements in its usual form."

42. The results of this chapter are summarized in Column One of the table in the Appendix.

CHAPTER THREE

THE TRADITIONAL POET II:

THE SUBJECT MATTER OF THE SIMILES

Once the singer has chosen to sing a simile, he must find a subject. Within the contexts where a simile is customarily used the subject matter is diverse. The journeys of gods are variously described by night, mist, snow, birds, and thought with similar diversity in the other contexts. How did an oral poet decide to sing about night in one place and about hawks and doves in another? The subject was not determined in the initial choice to sing a simile but most probably by the immediate narrative situation.

Such a conclusion would not do violence to our basic understanding of the oral tradition as it was handed down to Homer; rather it would enhance our knowledge. There seem to have been large families of simile subjects from which an oral poet could draw various images. These were not absolutely fixed but were basic scenes which could be adapted to different narrative contexts. The test of the good poet was the proper selection of subject and his facility at adaptation.

An examination of the similes of the Iliad and the Odyssey is then in order to see whether certain narrative situations did not suggest specific subjects for similes, or at least restrict the poet's choice. As in the preceding chapter a temporary limitation must be placed upon the beauty, unity and variety of the individual similes. Such a momentary restriction will focus attention on the precise object of inquiry, the choice of the subject matter. The snarling lion who unflinchingly feeds on a cow while dogs and men crowd about him, the slinking lion who creeps wounded through the farm buildings panicking the sheep, and the starving lion who greedily devours a stag's carcass—these three lions are highly individual creations. They sit admirably in the narrative; they lend it life and color. But for the analysis proposed in this study it is necessary to separate sharply the developed simile from the subject matter. All three of these very distinctive beasts are essentially lions and must for the moment be deprived of their individual personalities, since interest must be unswervingly directed at the context and the subject which it suggested to the poet.

The evidence of the poems themselves is the only source for this study. There are at least two obstacles against reaching unshakeable conclusions on such limited testimony:

1. First is the natural bias of the poems toward scenes of war. Similes are far more numerous in the Iliad than in the Odyssey and seem to cluster in the war books. This may have been true of the whole epic tradition, but that cannot be substantiated. In any case most similes must be judged in contexts of warrior and army when they might apply equally well to one man and his friends in a scene of peace. Such flexibility can be demonstrated when the same subject occurs in both the Iliad and the Odyssey. But when it cannot be shown so neatly, any conclusions will inevitably have more application to war contexts. For the most part only the simile as applied to a war scene can be examined in any depth.

2. Second, certain subjects which may be quite frequent in the tradition may not fit into a war context. A subject which was common in the epic repertoire but which was represented only once in the Odyssey could seem a unique, new and perhaps baffling item.

The remarks made by H. Fränkel on the point of contact between narrative and simile should not be forgotten. Since the simile as a whole is inserted into the narrative, no one narrative item is being compared to one particular item in the simile; but other characters, movements, sounds, setting, and tone—all of these may enter into the comparison. There may be only a few elements mentioned in any single simile, but the oral poet sees the full background: landscape, buildings, and other people, while he emphasizes those details of the picture which are most appropriate for telling his story. Fränkel takes an example from the similes of shepherds and their herds. When the poet startles the modern reader by jumping from the herd to the shepherd within one simile, he is making a very natural connection, because when the Homeric poet thought of a herd, the shepherd was in this mental image as a standard component of a familiar picture. The Homeric audience would also have visualized this figure; the leap felt by modern critics would be no leap at all for the man practiced in the techniques of oral poetry, be he performer or listener. Consequently a simile which is classified as a member of the lion-boar family can begin with a phrase other than: "just as a boar comes from a thicket. . ."; a simile which starts, "just as dogs and eager boys rush around a boar who comes from a thicket. . .," would be in the same family. The basic picture is the same; the connecting phrase merely introduces the picture. In ascertaining subject matter the formal method of joining simile to narrative is not a trustworthy guide.[1]

The procedure followed in this chapter requires grouping the members of a simile family together and listing the contexts in which such similes occur. There is evidence for at least sixteen families in the Homeric poems.

I. Lion Similes

Lions and boars, which are the subject of the most extensive family of similes in both Homeric poems, describe warriors almost exclusively. The Iliad is a story of warriors, but the hero of the Odyssey must also fight the suitors to win back his wife, his home, and his kingdom. Probably lion and boar similes are so numerous because they fit the extensive war narrative so well, though there were almost certainly other families which cannot be traced with equal ease because they simply are not suitable descriptions of battle scenes.

In this family of similes lions are freely interchanged with boars. Both Hector, who in returning to battle frightens the Greek army, and Ajax, who strides to the front of the battle line to rally the Achaeans, cause fear in the enemy:

Just as when dogs and men who live in the country chase after a horned stag or a wild goat, and a high rock and a shadowy forest have saved him and it is not their lot to find him, but at their clamoring a bearded lion appears in the road and suddenly turns them all back in spite of their eagerness; thus the Greeks for a while followed all together in a crowd, jabbing with their swords and two-edged spears, but when they saw Hector ranging the ranks of men, they were afraid, and all their spirit sank down to their feet. (15.271-80)

He (Ajax) strode through the front fighters like a wild boar in his bravery who easily scatters dogs and vigorous young men, turning upon them in the valley. (17.281-83)

Hector is compared to a lion who terrifies the hounds and hunters; Ajax, to a boar who swiftly scatters the pursuing hounds and hunters wherever he turns. The action within the simile is the same: a lion or boar drives away dogs and men, and the situation in the narrative is the same: a single hero confronts and terrifies the warriors massed against him. The animals, the lion and the boar, could be switched, and the scene inside the simile would remain unaltered. These are merely two examples of the interchangeable qualities of lions and boars; in almost every case there is a boar simile which presents the same picture as each lion simile except for the animal involved. In addition, there are five similes in which the animal is stated to be either a lion or a boar; for example:

As when a boar or a lion exulting in his strength wheels about among dogs and hunters, and closing themselves into a wall they stand against him and hurl many javelins; but his proud heart does not fear nor does he flee and it is his boldness which kills him; and often he turns about testing the lines of the men; wherever he charges, the men give way—thus Hector going through the crowd rallied his companions . . . (12.41-49)

Such passages suggest that groups of similes centered about a single subject, one group describing lions and one, boars, are equal in poetic value and contribution to the story. Since the characters in various similes can be transposed, and since similes presenting both subjects as alternatives exist, the poet does not seem to have made a sharp distinction between the two. The two groups are, in fact, one family named after their most common member, the lion similes.

There is one scene in which the two beasts cannot be transposed. Both lions and boars can scare their opponents, stand steadfastly, fight and die; but lions kill and stalk other animals, while boars do not. When a hero kills and is described by a simile of the lion-boar family in which an animal kills, the simile is about a lion (5.161, 10.485, 11.113, 11.172, and passim). At 11.324 a boar is most like a warrior who kills, but he never actually does kill. The slaughter performed by the lion is an added note of gruesomeness which can color a scene with heroic might and ferocity. The lion can even kill when the man does not. Diomedes has the rage of a lion that strews dead sheep throughout the farmyard, but Diomedes is only returning to the battle (5.136). Hector is like a lion who slaughters many cattle and yet Hector himself slays only one man (15.630). Killing makes these scenes more bloody, and in the narrative there is justification for a strong simile since Diomedes is about to embark on the main part of his aristeia. Hector is about to overcome the fixed Greek battle lines with the intent of burning the ships; though a few lines earlier the Greeks were like firm-fixed crags against the waves (15.618), in this simile they have become defenseless and dying cattle. Because the slaughtering lion is the strongest simile of the family, it is used when there is need of an especially impressive or bloody tone to a scene.

Because the subject of lions and boars is so extensive and so flexible in the similes, it probably had a long ancestry, perhaps back to Mycenaean times.[2] The lion's way of life as a stalker of food and a menace pursued by farmers is the subject. His ferocity in attack, tenacity in pursuit, and swiftness in escape, his hunger and fury—all these activities and qualities are in the similes. In addition, he is shown with various opponents—cattle, sheep, stags, goats, dogs, and men. In one simile a lion and boar struggle against one another. Varied actions against so many varied opponents create a highly flexible system, yet the situations are simple and repetitive: the lion as hunter or hunted.[3] The stress is easily shifted to fit the conditions of the surrounding narrative.

The lion similes occur, naturally enough, in war contexts usually describing one warrior against a hostile group. Whether the lion is pursued or pursuer depends on the hero's situation in the battle. One context contains similes of lions eager for attack and plunder, as when a warrior arms or attacks in battle rage, he may be compared to a hungering lion craving prey. Idomeneus arming for battle, Diomedes returning to fight, and Sarpedon roused by Zeus against the wall—all rush eagerly to attack; all are likened to lions (4.253, 5.136, and 12.299). A development of this type of simile in the picture of Achilles sorrowing over the dead Patroclus like a lion deprived of his young (18.318). The lion grieves and then tracks the hunter for revenge; in parallel fashion Achilles promises to avenge Patroclus' death immediately after the simile. This is the birth of a new wrath which does not die until the return of the body to Priam; consequently the lion comparisons are used even as he is accepting ransom from Priam (24.41 and 572). When one man stands out in battle ready to fight, he is like a lion in his confidence; in such a way Idomeneus awaits Aeneas and Ajax stands over Patroclus' body (13.471 and 17.133). The lion's behavior can describe the warrior's emotion. He may rage (20.164); he may be confident (5.299 and 12.41);[4] he may take joy in the thought of battle (3.23); or he may retreat reluctantly (11.548 and 17.657). The warrior does the same. Twice physical appearance is given. Automedon and Odysseus, the warrior victorious over the suitors, are like blood-spattered lions (17.542 and Od. 22.402).

There are also eight lion similes in passages where two or more warriors fight or are prepared to fight (5.554, 5.782, 10.297, and others).

I am neglecting for the moment the similes at Od. 4.791 and Od. 6.130 because they do not seem a part of this traditional usage except in the broadest way; they can be more appropriately explained in the next chapter where the use of certain similes as motifs is discussed.[5]

When one warrior stands out, either in the thick of the battle or ready to fight or manifesting the emotions of a warrior, Homer often compared him to a lion. The context suggested the subject matter. Warriors—fighting or ready to fight—occur so frequently in the Iliad that the poet undoubtedly knew many ways to describe them and develop their actions within a scene. It is noteworthy that books which do not describe war generally have no lion similes, since these are the contexts in which a lion simile would be inappropriate. Much of the Iliad describes war, and in these passages a lion simile can be aptly used.

2. Wind and Sea Similes

The wind and the sea seem natural images for the people of the Aegean sea basin. Perhaps tales about the return of the Greek heroes from Troy introduced such images into the epic tradition: Poseidon, as king of the sea, hindered Odysseus by stirring up a storm of wind and waves which splintered his raft and threatened to drown him, and Menelaus tells Telemachus of many men's adventures at sea. These two elements of nature are the subject of a series of similes in the Iliad and the Odyssey. In this series both need not be present. Some similes describe only the wind or a storm and some tell of the wind on dry land while others speak only of waves rolling on the sea. But the connection between the behavior of the waves and the gusts which blow over them would have been only too clear to a race of men who often turned to the sea; indeed, several similes join wind and wave into one picture. In addition, each type of simile occurs in the same context. The noise of a mob can be like a large wave breaking on a beach, the wind shrieking amid the tree tops, or a wave driven by the stormy blast of the north wind (2.209, 14.398, and 14.394). In the last passages the similes are offered as alternatives in a ''neither-nor" sequence: "not so loud is the wave . . ., not so loud is the fire . . ., nor so loud is the wind . . ., as is the cry of the Trojans and Achaeans." Finally wave and wind are equal alternatives in Book Two:

And the assembly was stirred like the huge waves of the Icarian sea which the east wind or the south wind has raised rushing down from the clouds of father Zeus. As when the west wind in swift gusts moves through a deep corn field, and the ears of corn are bent down, thus was the whole assembly moved…. (2.144-149)

Both tests for a family grouping are satisfied: wind similes can be used in the same context as wave similes, and they are used as equal alternatives in a pair of similes.

In the case of the lion similes such substitution was more precise because a boar can frequently fill exactly the same role as a lion. However the sea acts in a thoroughly different fashion from the air. A simile which begins, "just as the wind or the wave . . ." is impossible because these two subjects cannot be well presented as interchangeable forces within the same simile. Two separate similes placed side by side modifying the same scene are the closest possible example of substituting wind for wave as a subject.

The occasion for wind and sea similes usually involves groups of people. The Trojans follow Hector like a tempest blast, the two armies clash as two winds clash, and the Trojans pour over the wall as a wave which pours over the rail of a ship (13.39, 13.334, and 15.381).[6] The similes can emphasize the movement of a group, chaotic and indecisive as the wind whips ears of corn in a cornfield in bobbing disorder, or disciplined and purposeful like the endless lines of waves which break against the coast (2.144 and 4.422). On the other hand a stubborn resistance to movement is described when the wind stops blowing or a rock stands against the waves (5.522 and 15.618). The basic picture has probably been sung many times before, and therefore the poet needs only to focus on the element which matches his narrative. The noise of groups can be set forth in the simile (2.209, 2,394, and 14.394). Confusion and distress are made visual in the wave that casts seaweed along the beach, and terror is shown by the sailors who scarcely survive in a sea storm (9.4 and 15.624). Joy and relief fill the hearts of exhausted rowers when fair winds finally blow just as the Trojans are bolstered by Hector and Paris (7.4).

When a wind simile describes a single warrior, it emphasizes the force of his attack. Hector returns to battle after Agamemnon's wounding like a wind storm (11.297 and 11.305). Nestor describes his youthful ability in battle as like a whirlwind (11.747). When Nestor is confused by the rout of the Greeks, he is like a rolling sea before the storm breaks (14.16), a simile which may have occurred to the poet by analogy to scenes where the whole army is confused or terrified (9.4 and 15.624).

There are similes which contain a reference to wind and yet cannot be considered wind similes. Ares is a darkness which arises after heat when a wind begins to blow (5.864). Surely the poet is thinking of Ares as that darkness, and the wind is a natural part of the developed picture. This could well have been a short simile: like a black darkness, but the poet chose to carry his description further with other elements which usually and quite naturally accompany such a darkness. Similar is 4.275.

There are also similes where the wind sheds mist over a mountain peak or scatters chaff (3.10 and 5.499), and in both cases a troop of warriors is raising a cloud of dust. The simile does appear with the mention of a group; however, because the dust cloud is in the narrative, I am inclined to think that the visual image in the narrative suggested the subject for the simile. The same is true of 23.366. One can compare 13.334 where the dust cloud is not in the narrative but is one element in a developed picture of gusty winds. When an object, movement, or sound in the narrative reminds the poet of a simile subject, the tradition plays a smaller role since more immediate features of the narrative dominate the singer's thoughts. There is a whole class of similes related to their contexts in this way which will be discussed later.[7]

Comparisons to wind and sea often occur when the poet describes groups of warriors. As he develops the simile, he is able to vary the components of the picture to characterize the noise or the movement or the specific emotions of this group. The uses of this family for the single warrior, however, seem restricted; they describe only the forceful attack of the fighter. Perhaps because the lion similes had been at hand for so long, they were the most adequate and, therefore, customary means of presenting the warrior's varied movements and moods, while wind similes are the most fully developed set of similes for describing the army as a whole.

Since general scenes of the army provide one of the traditional locations for placing a simile, it is understandable that wind similes often appear in this position. The theme of general scenes of the army should suggest not only the placement but also the subject matter of the simile. A brief scanning of the chart in the Appendix will support this expectation (for example, 2.144, 147, 209, 394, 5.499, 5.522, 7.63, and many others). Yet this coincidence of placement and subject is not consistent, since the choice of the placement and the choice of the subject matter were two distinct choices. There are several similes describing the activities of the army whose subjects are lions or fire. These subjects belong to their own simile families appearing in defined contexts. When the poet found himself singing about the army and decided that the simile—which was one of his standard alternate methods of continuing his song—was the appropriate next step, he then made a second decision concerning subject matter which was utterly independent of the first decision on placement. As he had been guided by his inherited tradition in deciding what the normal ways of continuing his narrative were, so also he was often guided by the tradition in choosing subject matter. If he wanted to talk about the movement of the army (its retreat, advance, or steadfastness), its specific emotions (confusion or relief), or the din of battle, he would often use a wind simile. If he wanted to say that the army was confronting one warrior and giving way before him, he would choose a simile about a lion or a fire. If he were telling his audience that the army's fighting was fierce and furious, he would again use a simile of a fire. It is important to note that the poet did have two separate choices to make, placement and subject. Throughout the various simile families there are further examples which demonstrate the need for two separate choices on the part of the oral poet, even though the two choices may often have been made simultaneously. In these passages there are several sets of alternatives for each choice but no ascertainable conjunction of any one alternative placement with any one alternative subject.

The traditional connection of wind similes to specific contexts is evident in two sets of lines following a simile and joining it back to the narrative:

ὣς ἐδαΐζετο θυμὸς ἐνὶ στήθεσσιν Ἀχαιῶν (9.8 and 15.629)

ὣς Δαναοὶ Τρῶας μένον ἔμπεδον οὐδὲ φέβοντο (5.527 and 15.622)

Each time a wind simile is joined to the narrative with identical words. In the first set of lines the Greeks are confused and distressed, while in the second, the Greeks stand against the Trojans. Each context, identical in words but located too far apart to be a conscious reminiscence, individually suggested a wind simile to the poet.[8]

3. Fire Similes

Of the four or five large families of similes, those depicting fire and fiery bodies—stars, moon, sun, and lightning—occur frequently in both poems. Earthly fire is never directly joined in one simile with the fire of a star or a lightning bolt where one is an alternative for the other; there is no simile beginning, "as a star or a forest fire . . ." Achilles' armor gleams like shining Hyperion, the sun, while the armor of the marching Greek forces blazes like a fire on a mountain peak (19.398 and 2.455). That similar narrative moments can suggest to the poet both fire and stars images, though, indicates that such similes were interchangeable in the poet's mind. When a helmet or shield gleamed, ready comparisons to fire or a star were at hand.

There is a reasonable limitation on interchanging fire and star similes. The destructive might of a forest fire can exemplify the rage of the warrior, while a star is a distant fire which does not destroy but rather shines night after night in its cold beauty. Star similes would be senseless comparisons for the warrior in his bloody sweep across the battlefield, but in all other cases these two subjects are interchangeable.

Fire similes occur in three basic contexts—gleaming objects, warriors in battle, and anger. The examples of shining armor—helmets, shields, spears, breast plates—run throughout the Iliad, but other items have a fiery gleam as well. The palace of Alcinous is built of bronze walls with golden doors and silver doorposts; gold and silver dogs guard the doors. The whole palace shines like the sun or the moon (Od. 7.84). Menelaus' palace at Sparta possesses the same glow (Od. 4.45). Four robes shine like stars—Hecuba's peplos and Helen's, Odysseus' cloak, and Penelope's shroud for Laertes (6.295, Od. 15.108, Od. 19.234, and Od. 24.148). Similar is Hera's veil (14.185). The chain of Eurymachus is gold and amber—bright as the sun—and the spot on a horse's head is round and white like the moon (Od. 18.296 and 23.455).

Second, warriors in battle are compared to fire. Hector makes the connection most directly when he says that he will fight Achilles even if Achilles' hands are as fire and his fury as iron (20.371). Such images, ranging from short phrases to developed similes of fire, whirling wind, and flaming forests, are restricted to the pre- dominant heroes. Agamemnon and Achilles burn across the field of battle during their aristeiai (11.155; Achilles, 20.490, 21.12, and often). Idomeneus in his momentary burst of glory and Hector as the general of the Trojan army both fight like flames (13.330; Hector, 11.62, 15.605, and often). Similes of destructive fire seem most apt when applied to the triumphant warrior in his unconquerable might. They describe the general appearance of the warrior on the battlefield (i.e., "his rage was like a fire ..." or "his might was like a fire . . .") or the continuing battle success of the warrior (i.e., "he followed after them like a fire" or "he led them like a fire").

Whole armies are likened to fires most often when they are moving into battle. After the Catalogue of Ships the land is swept with fire as the Greeks march forth (2.780). They follow after Hector and join battle like destructive fires (13.39, 14.396, and 17.737).

Finally, the inner fire of anger glares in the eyes. Agamemnon's eyes are like blazing fire when he upbraids Calchas for his tactless but true advice (1.104). Antinous with fire in his eyes chafes under Telemachus' newly-won independence (Od. 4.662). Achilles glares as he sees the arms of Hephaestus, and again as he prepares for battle (19.17 and 366). By analogy Achilles says that anger swells in the hearts of men like smoke (18.110).

If a simile family and its usual context were well known to the audience and were firm parts of the previous tradition, it was possible for the poet to extend the comparison to new contexts. An example is the simile describing Odysseus on the beach. Previously Odysseus was described in a lion simile from the warrior world (Od. 4.335). On the beach he is like a fire; but this is not the bright and violent blaze which levels the forest, and Odysseus is not the rampaging warrior who terrifies the enemy. He is an exhausted homeless wanderer; and as he sleeps, he is that small seed of fire which can only glow to reveal its weakened power. The destructive potential is there but ebbs for the moment (Od. 5.488).

Once Astyanax is "like a fair star" (6.401). The comparison is unique in the Homeric corpus. It seems to be a mark of quality.[9] Nestor is astounded at the beautiful horses of Rhesus and calls them rays of the sun (10.547). The cloaks, jewels, and palaces which gleam like celestial bodies are all very fine. This simile is a common comparison and could have easily come to the poet while composing as a means of directing attention to Hector's son in this tender scene.

Not all fire similes fall neatly into these three categories. For example, the groans of Agamemnon which come as often as Zeus' lightning have long defied commentators (10.5). Yet with few exceptions the similes whose subject matter is fire, stars, sun, moon, and lightning appear in these three basic situations.

4. Gods and Goddesses

In the Homeric poems men are compared to gods in conjunction with two basic themes: warriors preparing to attack or attacking and characters entering or reentering the narrative. When a warrior is preparing to do battle, he often strides forth like a god. The most impressive is Agamemnon as the leader of the Greeks when they have drawn up into ranks for the Catalogue of Ships. He is compared to Zeus, Ares, and Poseidon (2.478). Ajax, when he readies himself to fight Hector, and Achilles reentering the war and later approaching his single combat with Hector are both likened to Ares (7.208, 20.46, and 22.132). Probably because of the extensive war narrative Ares is the god most often paired with men. In the poem within the poem Demodocus sings the tale of the Trojan War, and in it Odysseus enters the house of Deiphobus like Ares (Od. 8.518).

When one warrior attacks, he is often said to be like a god. Patroclus attacks twice and Achilles leaps at the Trojans—both like gods (16.705, 16.786, and 21.227).

The closest analogue in the Odyssey to the warrior who goes to battle is the character who reenters the narrative to undertake a new and significant task. Telemachus is godlike twice. When he goes to the council to confront the suitors and plan for his trip, he is described by a simile (Od. 2.5). At the end of his stay in Pylos he comes forth from the bath—again godlike—to journey to Sparta (Od. 3.468). Each time Telemachus reenters the narrative to guide the action. When Menelaus prepares to tell Telemachus of his wandering trip home, he is compared to a god (Od. 4.310). The Odyssey can come even closer to the entrance of a warrior into a major scene. The appearance of Nausicaa on the beach is a peaceful introduction. She has been sent to the river to meet Odysseus and implement his return to Ithaca, her task in the poem. As she prepares to fulfill this role, she is like Artemis (Od. 6.102). When Penelope comes from her chamber to meet her disguised husband, she enters decisively into the chain of events leading to the recognition and vengeance of Odysseus. She appears as Artemis or Aphrodite (Od. 19.54).

Finally, there is a group of minor characters who make their first entrance or their reentrance into the narrative with a simile comparing them to a god. Cassandra, who enters the Iliad only briefly in its final lines, is like Aphrodite (24.699). In the Odyssey Helen and Alcinous are compared to gods on their first appearance (Od. 4.122 and Od. 6.309), and Nausicaa is like a goddess when she is first mentioned (Od. 6.16). Briseis, when she is finally returned to the Myrmidon camp, is like Aphrodite or a goddess (19.282 and 19.286). Through this device the poet calls attention to a minor character who will have a small part in the narrative. In the Iliad Helen needs no such introduction since it is her war. In the Odyssey she is a minor character. At her first entrance the poet characterizes her with a simile and a description of her silver basket.

A simile traditionally occurs at the entrance of a character into the narrative, and quite often, but not always, the subject of the simile in this place is a god or goddess (Iliad 13; Odyssey 16).[10] This frequent coincidence of traditional placement and repeated subject suggests that the use of the subject of gods in these similes was as traditional as wind similes are in describing the movements of the army. The choice of the particular god depends strictly on the narrative. Warriors have similes with Ares as the main character; Achilles is once joined with the sun god Hyperion, though this simile describes his shining bronze armor and probably has more affinity to the group of fire similes. Women are either like Artemis or Aphrodite. The general words "immortal" or "god" can describe both men and women who are not involved in war.

These, then, are the two themes which suggest similes of gods to the poet: when a warrior attacked the enemy and when a character entered the narrative.

5. Tree Similes

In the Iliad and the Odyssey there are fourteen similes of trees, three of these concerning young saplings, and in every case they are used in contexts describing a hero. As trees either stand solidly or are cut down, so also there are warriors who remain unmoving or who fall dead on the battlefield. Leonteus and Polypoetes, who stand unflinching before the wall, are like two firm oak trees (12.132). Alcathous, who is enchanted by Poseidon and remains fixed, unable to flee or dodge the spear of Idomeneus, is compared to a tree (13.437). Simoesius, Crethus, Orsilochus, Imbrius, Asius, and Sarpedon drop like chopped trees (4.482, 5.560, 13.178, 13.389, and 16.482). When Hector falls wounded by Ajax, he is likened to an uprooted oak. Because his presence is so decisive for the Trojan success and because it is a violation of divine command on this day of Hector's glory, a special fear is generated by his wounding.[11] This fear is suggested in the simile: the oak hit by a lightning bolt—a scene which strikes terror into all men (14.414). Finally Achilles is described as a sapling and a tree in the orchard (18.56, 57, 437, and 438). Achilles' death does not occur in the Iliad, though it is imminent. Thetis knows that he will never return to Phthia, that he is the young tree which will not escape destruction. The description of the slaying of Euphorbus provides the fullest picture: a man nurtures an olive shoot which is suddenly plucked from the earth by a storm wind (17.53). The use of the simile in the case of Achilles is based on analogy to similes describing the young warrior who dies. Similarly Eumaeus tells a gloomy tale of Telemachus who grew like a tree, but who is now awaited by the suitors in ambush (Od. 14.175).[12]

There are two contexts which can be followed by a tree simile: a warrior who dies or a man who stands inflexible and unmoving in battle. By association with the warrior who dies, the tree simile developed into a description of young men about to die.

6. Wolf Similes

There are four wolf similes, all of which occur in the Iliad since there is seldom a suitable context for such similes in the Odyssey. They describe groups of men in battle fury. In four of the scenes the men are engaged in battle. Trojan and Greek rush on one another like wolves; later the Greeks attack with a wolf like fury (4.471, 11.72 and 16.352). In one scene in which the Myrmidons arm for battle their eagerness is like that of ravening, insatiable wolves (16.156). In such scenes of groups inspired with desire for battle and rushing against the enemy, wolf similes can be used.

7. Deer Similes

There are four passages with deer similes and each characterizes a frightened, dazed, and cringing group of men. Agamemnon upbraids the cowards in the Greek army by calling them fawns, and Poseidon compares the previous fear of the Trojans to the panic of deer (4.243 and 13.101). When Achilles takes twelve young Trojans for Patroclus' pyre, they are bewildered like fawns, and the Trojans huddle in their city in the same way (21.29 and 22.1). Fawns, a symbol of timid fragility, appear in scenes of hunting and preying, scenes which are well suited to a war context where man stalks man and earns glory only by killing. But there is also one example of fawns who merely exhaust themselves scampering over a plain (4.243); this simile has no direct connection to hunt scenes. It is surprising that there are no such deer similes in the Odyssey since they do not seem to require a war context. In any case the four passages in the Iliadoccur consistently in scenes of frightened groups.

8. Stele Similes

Two similes are of stele. Perhaps these are not enough to prove that a certain type of context suggested a set subject, and yet they both illustrate exactly the same idea. What is lacking in numbers is gained in consistency. Poseidon casts a spell over Alcathous' eyes; and while he is unable to move, Idomeneus slays him. His immobility is compared to that of a stele (13.437). The horses of Aeacus refuse to enter battle or to return to the ships no matter how often Automedon beats them. They, like Alcathous, stand as stationary as a stone slab (17.434). Complete lack of motion is thus twice compared to a stele.

9. Diver Similes

Similes of divers occur three times in scenes of men falling—once from a ship (Od. 12.413), once from a battlement (12.385), and once from a chariot (16.742). This is a small group but so consistent that it is almost surely a traditional category.

10. Hunting Similes

A hunter and his hounds are the main actors in some similes. In the group of lion similes hunters and their dogs were mentioned, but there the lion who confronted them was the most prominent actor who remained throughout the family as he confronted various opponents. Of a different sort are similes where dogs and hunters are the actors throughout, and they confront a series of changing opponents. Because stalking and killing are the subjects, war contexts alone contain such similes. In four cases a hunting dog chases and attacks his prey, while in the narrative a hero is attacking either a specific opponent or the enemy army. Diomedes and Odysseus pursue Dolon like hounds after a hare or deer, and Antilochus springs on Melanippus as a dog jumps on a fawn (10.360 and 15.579). Hector follows the groups of Achaeans similar to a dog after a boar or lion (8.338).[13] He encourages the Trojans against the Achaeans like hunting dogs (11.292). The similes 11.414 and 12.41 could be hunting scenes or lion similes since both existed in the tradition, and Homer could easily have combined them. They are here treated as lion similes because they are placed in contexts paralleled by the other similes of that group.

11. Similes of Children

Perhaps the most famous comparison to a child occurs in Achilles' question to Patroclus:

Why then are you crying, Patroclus, like some little girl who running alongside her mother demands to be picked up, clings to her dress and holds her back as she hurries along, and tearfully looks up at her until she is picked up? (16.7-10)

Several times in Homer a warrior is said to be like a child. One leader from Asia Minor came to Troy decked in gold like a girl, but he was foolish since the gold could not save his life (2.872). Aeneas advances to fight Idomeneus, who does not flee or grow panicky but stands firm. If he had been shaken, he would have been like a pampered boy (13.470). There are seven such similes in Homer, and in each case a character is doing something which is odd, inept, or unbefitting the person. Sometimes the comparison is a rebuke. Odysseus and Nestor both ridicule the Greeks for their eagerness to return home, both calling them foolish children (2.289 and 2.337). When Eteoneus asks Menelaus if he should invite Telemachus for the evening, Menelaus upbraids him for such a nonsensical question by saying that he talks like a child (Od. 4.32). When Achilles is struggling with the river Scamandar, he rebukes Zeus and Thetis for leading him to such an ignoble end since Zeus had promised so much more glorious a death. Now Achilles thinks that he will drown like a swineherd boy who is swept away by a river (21.282).

Two times a simile of child and mother is used to indicate a warrior's relation to his protector, each time of a notable but somewhat secondary warrior. Athena shields Menelaus from Pandarus' arrow as a mother brushes a fly away from her child (4.130). Teucer hides safely behind Ajax like a child protected by its mother (8.271).

In one passage the simile describes the ease with which Apollo pushes down the Achaean wall: like a boy scattering sand castles on the beach (15.362). The visual connection—scattering a dirt structure—may have suggested such a subject to the poet. With this exception the similes of children are used consistently in two narrative situations: to describe a character who is acting strangely or foolishly and to illustrate the protection given by a strong ally.

12. Swarms of Insects

Wasps, bees, and flies are the subjects of five similes. They are all used with groups of lesser warriors, usually with a whole troop, though in one case, with two men. When the Greeks gather for the assembly, they resemble swarms of bees and later swarms of flies (2.87 and 2.469). In the Patrocleia the battle centers for a while over the fallen Sarpedon around whom men gather so thickly that they are like flies around a milk pail (16.641)[14] Two similes of wasps emphasize the warlike spirit which drives the warriors. The Myrmidons stream from the ships like wasps (16.259), while Polypoetes and Leonteus are as fierce as wasps or bees that guard their homes and young (12.167).

All the insect similes are used in contexts of groups of warriors. Sometimes the simile focuses on the mere number of men; at other times on their waspish spirit.

13. Fish Similes

The whole scene of fishing, an occupation well known to the Greek people, is the basis of a group of similes. As in the case of the lion similes there are a number of actors involved in a brief story which ends in death for the pursued. The fisherman or a predatory fish is the killer; the fish caught are the killed. Patroclus drags a man from his chariot like a fisherman and Scylla draws up six of Odysseus' men in similar fashion (16.406 and Od. 12.251). Achilles chases the terrified Trojan youths as a gluttonous dolphin scatters smaller fish (21.22). The slain suitors lying in the court and the men of Odysseus speared by the Laestrygonians are like caught fish (Od. 22.384 and Od. 10.124). Sarpedon warns Hector not to allow the Trojans to be taken like fish in a net (5.487).

In these cases the fish similes occur in two basic narrative situations: men killed or going to be killed and a warrior or enemy killing. In one passage at 23.692 Euryalus leaps like a fish in shallow water when he is hit, a simile which does not fit the pattern. In this case the motion in the narrative is reflected in the simile and is probably the reason for choosing it.

14. River Similes

There are six similes of rivers, all of them in the Iliad. Homer pictures rushing, swelling, violent rivers rather than more lyrical, placid streams. Such images are suited to war with its active and vigorous panorama and its struggles of powerful men. The Odyssey contains few suitable occasions for these similes.

For the most part river similes fall at two places in the narrative. Three times the heroic warrior is likened to a river. Diomedes rushes across the plain like the flow of a winter torrent. Hector is a foaming river which causes a man to halt in dismay, and Ajax is compared to a flood which washes away oak and pine trees in its course (5.87, 5.597,[15] and 11.492).[16] Twice fighting armies are compared to rivers. When the battle is joined after Pandarus has broken the truce, the armies meet with the noise of two racing rivers merging in a valley (4.452). The Ajaxes stand similar to a wooded ridge to break the force of the Trojans who stream about them (17.747).

When Hector turns his chariot away from the Greek ships under Patroclus' victorious attack, the poet sings of the roar of many rivers swollen with rain which sweep across a plain destroying farmlands (16.384). The point of comparison given by the poet is noise. In the rest of Homer there is no direct parallel with a simile in the context of a rumbling chariot, and it does not fit into either group of parallel usages for river similes. Probably this simile is related to the simile which describes the two armies joined in battle but which also stresses the noise of their conflict (4.452). There are other similes which were suggested to the poet by a resemblance of sound which will be considered later.[17]

15. Bird Similes

There are a considerable number of bird similes in the Homeric corpus, but they are not used with the consistency which has characterized previous simile groups. There do, however, seem to be two basic positions for these similes, that is, two narrative situations where the poet would feel an inclination to use a bird simile.

Gods and goddesses may appear to men or remain invisible. When gods assume a visible disguise, they have seemingly unlimited choice. The elusive Proteus is a master of such mutations; Athena is a meteor and a rainbow. Often they masquerade as men, but they can also be birds. Such appearances occur often as similes, but in many cases the line between simile and narrative is quite thin. When Athena-Mentes leaves the megaron of Telemachus, she flies upward like a bird, and thus Telemachus realizes that she is a goddess (Od. 1.320). When Athena-Mentor departs from Telemachus and Nestor in Pylos, she is like a sea eagle and all the men are amazed (Od. 3.372).[18] In these two cases there is a remembrance of the bird as an epiphany of the god, a religious tradition which is as old as Middle Minoan art objects.[19] Statues of birds alighting on shrines or birds sitting on the heads or shoulders of gods are early epiphanies of the deity. These have been found in Crete at Knossos and Hagia Triada and at Mycenae in the shaft graves. The two divine transformations in the Odyssey and several similes seem to recall this earlier religious belief.

There are fourteen passages in which a bird simile describes a god. The gods are varied—Athena, Poseidon, Apollo, Sleep, Thetis, Hermes, and Leucothea—as are the varieties of birds. There is no one bird representing one god, which also accords with the early divine epiphany. It was only necessary to represent the presence of the god with the general shape of a bird. Specific birds were not attached to individual gods until later. The connection of bird to god in the similes is, therefore, very old; it was a part of the oral poet's inheritance from the Mycenaean-Minoan world. When he sang of gods, similes of birds were at hand and easily adaptable to the actions of divine figures.

Birds, especially birds of prey, also appear in similes which accompany attacking warriors. When the warrior is charging against a group of the enemy, the bird—eagle, falcon, or vulture—is driving smaller birds or animals. Automedon rushes on the Trojans like a vulture after geese; Patroclus attacks the Lycians like a falcon scattering daws and starlings (17.460 and 16.582). Odysseus swoops on the relatives of the suitors like an eagle (Od. 24.538). Possibly developed from this usage is Achilles' simile of the starving mother bird which illustrates his loyal, but unrewarded, service to Agamemnon (9.323).

Groups of fighting men are also compared to birds. Odysseus and his men attack the suitors like vultures (Od. 22.302). The Greeks are as numerous as flocks of birds and the Trojans sound like birds, when both sides are marching to an encounter (2.459 and 3.2)

Outside of these two fairly consistent patterns of usage, the bird similes occur in eleven other contexts which seem unrelated. They are:

2.764—

the horses of Eumelus are as swift as birds

17.674—

Menelaus looks about like an eagle

21.252—

Achilles darts back like an eagle

Od. 7.36—

the boats of Phaeacians are as swift as birds

Od. 11.605—

the noise of the dead rises about Heracles like terrified birds

Od. 12.418—

the companions of Odysseus float in the waves like sea-crows

Od. 14.308—

the same

Od. 15.479—

the Phoenician woman falls into the ship's hold like a sea gull

Od. 16.216—

Odysseus and Telemachos weep like birds

Od. 21.411—

the twang of Odysseus' bow is like a swallow's song

Od. 22.468—

the women hold their heads to be hung like thrushes or doves.

There is insufficient evidence to prove that these similes of birds are in their contexts because they were normally sung in such places. In fact, one might reasonably speculate that the number of women who fall into ships' holds in the epic cycle is fairly small. Probably these examples show contexts where the poet chose to sing a simile and then picked a bird simile because of a parallel of sound, motion, or posture. When Odysseus and Telemachus weep like birds robbed of their young, the sound suggested is vivid; at the same time this simile focuses on the unnatural destruction of the home which is so basic a theme in the Odyssey. The bird similes are in the poet's mind. Though often they are used to describe gods or attacking warriors, the poet can draw on them whenever they suit a situation, especially when the situation has no traditional similes of its own.

16. Farm Animal Similes

Of the large families of similes there are two basic animal groups: wild beasts engaged in continual search for means of survival and domesticated farm animals. The former are represented by lions, jackals, leopards, and boars; the latter, by horses, cows, mules, and sheep. In general the two groups represent the life of the wild as opposed to the calm, if toilsome, life of protected peace with mankind. There are many more similes of wild animals; but, of course, the life of the wild is a more natural accompaniment to the battlefield than life on the farm.

Comparisons to farm animals almost always depict either heroes or armies. Agamemnon is at various places in the poems like a bull when he leads the Greek forces and an ox when he is slaughtered (2.480, Od. 4.535, and Od. 11.411). These similes can emphasize different aspects of a scene. The helplessness of a dying warrior is portrayed by the similes of bulls bound and dragged, one brought from the mountains and the other pulled around the altar of Poseidon

(13.571 and 20.403). The concern for the fallen Patroclus is well expressed in the simile of Menelaus as a mother cow over her calf (17.4). Odysseus' anger is well described by a comparison to a growling bitch (Od. 20.14). The freshness of a warrior going to fight is three times portrayed by a horse simile: Paris, Hector, and Achilles all run easily and eagerly into battle (6.506, 15.263, and 22.22). Heroes who work as a team can be described by a team of animals, as when the Ajaxes coordinate their efforts like a yoked pair of oxen (13.703) or when Menelaus and Meriones carry the body of Patroclus like a team of mules (17.742). Similes of farm animals can also be sung in scenes of groups. Thus the comrades of Odysseus are compared to hounds, puppies, and calves (Od. 9.289, Od. 10.216, and Od. 10.410), and the Trojan army is likened to bleating sheep (4.433 and 13.492). The Phaeacian ship which carries Odysseus to Ithaca starts with the drive of four yoked stallions (Od. 13.81), a comparison which is probably visual; as the ship heaves forward into the sea, so the four horses jump forth. But leaving this one exception aside, this group of farm animal similes occurs in two contexts, individual characters or groups of people who are prominentfor the moment.

This is to say that such similes can occur in almost any context, peace or war, modifying men. They are not firmly tied to one or two confined usages like the tree or stele similes, and they have a far greater and more flexible range than the lion similes. It may be that this group of images was newer to the tradition and that poets were using it in and adapting it to many contexts. This would be similar to Parry's conclusion that the more fixed, unchanging epithets were old and firmly entrenched in the tradition, while newer epithets were being shifted and developed by the game of analogy.[20] In the flexibility of this group of similes there may be an indication of the continual adaptation and renewal of the oral diction.

17. Fragments of Evidence for the Tradition

There are small groups of similar subjects which are not used with total consistency in describing any one context. Yet because there are a number of such groups, it is tempting to see a series of traditional families centered on these subjects even though context does not seem to define their employment with any rigidity. There are six snow similes, two of which are used to illustrate flying missiles (12.156 and 12.278). The others accompany the words of Odysseus, the descent of Iris, the gleam of Myrmidon helmets, and the weeping of Penelope (3.222, 15.170, 19.357, and Od. 19.205). Three times mountain similes emphasize hugeness (Od. 3.290, Od. 10.113, and Od. 11.243). In other places they describe Hector in battle and the Cyclops (13.754 and Od. 9.191). Ajax' shield is like a tower three times (7.219, 11.485, and 17.128). A man falls like a tower (4.462). Leaves, sand, and flowers in various combinations are used to represent an infinite or unimaginable number of men (2.468, 2.800, and Od. 9.51).

None of these groups of similes is used consistently enough to establish a system of basic traditional contexts known to the poet. That they are not more numerous may be mere chance, or it may be that there was really no consistent or frequent usage of them at all in oral singing. However, if the previous classifications have validity and isolate organized systems of simile families used in repeated contexts, then it is probable that the meager evidence here presented points to traditional simile families which are only slightly represented in the two epics that survive.

18. Similes from Outside the Tradition

In the fifteen examples of simile families discussed in this chapter there is evidence that the poet from his long experience knew set subjects to sing in various contexts, that there was a strong tradition guiding this choice. Yet some similes cannot be easily accommodated to such an explanation. At times the poet's reasons for singing certain similes which do not seem a part of the tradition may be discovered, but many will remain mysterious. There are a number of similes which are very closely tied to the narrative, so closely that the reason for the choice of subject is evident to even the casual reader.

First the poet can draw the simile from the surrounding narrative. Ares flies up from the battlefield crying as loudly as nine or ten thousand warriors (5.860); Poseidon's war cry is the same (14.148); the Trojans pull back as far as a spear is cast in war (16.589). These battlefield subjects are taken from the war scene in which the simile appears.

A simile which repeats exactly a physical motion made in the narrative is used often enough to be regarded as a rule of composition. For example:

8.306—

a dead man bows his head in the way a poppy bows its head

11.147—

a head rolls on the battlefield as a round stone rolls

14.413—

Hector hit by a rock spins around as a top spins

15.679—

Ajax jumps from ship to ship in the way a fancy rider jumps from horse to horse

20.495—

Achilles' horses tread bodies as bulls tread grain on a threshing floor.

In these similes there is an exact repetition of an action which a character performs in the narrative.

Likewise the poet can repeat in a detached simile scene an object taken from the narrative. The cloud of dust kicked up by the Trojan army as it marches to battle is likened to a thick mist (3.10). The general clash raises such a cloud of dust that the warriors' armor grows white as piles of chaff grow white (5.499). In the gusty sea storm of the Odyssey the wind of the narrative is the wind of the simile (Od. 5.328). In this case the poet had used a wind simile, a subject with a traditional context, to illustrate a storm in the narrative which is fully in accord with the practice of a poet steeped in the oral tradition—whether he sang or wrote. The stock of subjects was in his memory. Though he often chose a subject familiar to him in a fixed context, he had many subjects in mind from which to choose the one which fit his narrative by recalling the motion or object in the story. Critics may charge him with lack of imagination, especially when he presents similar characters and objects in simile and narrative; but once the poet's process of selection and his dependence upon a tradition is understood, such critics must appreciate his unwillingness to resort to such obvious parallels too often. Analogous to these similes are those bound tightly to the story by a parallel of sound. The Scamander bellows like a bull, and the Cyclops' eye hisses like hot iron thrown into water (21.237 and Od. 9.391). There are many aural similes, some taken from the tradition and some not.[21]

The frequent similes of measurement which suggest a fairly specific distance are often common scenes of every-day farm or athletic life. Two examples will exemplify the type: Odysseus runs as close behind Ajax Oileus as a woman holds a weaving rod to her breast (23.760), and Dolon runs as far past Odysseus and Diomedes as mules go when plowing a furrow (10.351).

Conclusion: Tradition and Subject Matter

Through the process of grouping the similes by subject matter and then comparing the contexts in which certain subjects characteristically appear, the colorful variety of the simile world is wrapped into small and immensely useful packages. Such small units were in the poet's mind, gleaned from the decades or centuries in which the epic style was developed and refined. The basic group "lion" contained a limited group of the lion's activities in combination with his various friends and foes; but even if the number of actions is small, each act could be developed in different ways and given different emphases. From his years of experience in listening to other poets and fitting similes into his tale, the poet had grown accustomed to joining certain subjects with fixed contexts. By a process which must have been close to trial and error generations of oral poets came to know that some subjects were suited to certain moments in the narrative and could be adapted easily to fit all situations in this particular scene. For example, the lion similes in their diversity are suited to most of the actions of men on the battlefield, and at the same time they vividly depict the varied emotions of characters in such actions.

Such a collection of simile subjects confined to special contexts seems from its extent and relative consistency to be deeply imbedded in the heritage of the oral poet. However, while the antiquity of some elements of this system is evident in the bird and in the lion similes, the development and emphasis of the simile was the task of the individual poet. The infrequency of exactly repeated similes and the balances and correspondences between simile and narrative point to a more individual style in extending the simile. At the very least the basic subject was the legacy of the tradition.

Consequently in this study it has been essential and proper to neglect the details of the fully developed simile. It seems that the poet thought formally in terms of "lion similes" regardless of the extending details in each simile concerning the individual situation of each lion. He chose his broad subject on the basis of the general context reserving the consideration of precise balances between simile and narrative as a later—and more independent—option.

There are two points which are corollaries to this conclusion. First, the point of comparison (Vergleichungspunkt), so hallowed in the history of comment on the similes, does not seems to have been particularly important to the poet. He was concentrating more on choosing a subject which could be developed to fit his context. Second, Fränkel's contention that the simile was conceived by the poet as a unit with its full cast of characters—sheep, shepherd, dogs, and wolves—seems fully justified. Context suggested a basic subject which could be developed to suit the immediate details of the narrative. But along with the subject came the full apparatus of that simile family to be used as the poet willed.

It is also significant that many of the contexts describe a character who is attacking or about to attack, entering the narrative or about to enter the narrative, in general, a man who is doing something or about to do it. These contexts are seen as the same by the poet in choosing his simile subjects. As Homer sang of the Myrmidons arming in Iliad 16, he knew that they were about to attack, and he described them in a simile which is commonly used of men who are actually attacking. The poet always anticipated the future direction of his tale and could be expected to motivate the actions of his characters. The warrior who was attacking or who was about to attack seemed the same to him as he looked ahead in his story.

These are broad statements made on evidence which is far from the uniformity of the traditional epithets. For similes the evidence is not as great, is limited to certain contexts, and is far less dominated by the rigorous metrical demands which determine the shape and position of the formulae. In spite of these obstacles there are two qualities which are indispensable in defining, even in a vague way, the tradition: numerous repetitions and consistent usage. Where there are a large number of similes on a particular subject, they do fall with surprising consistency at places in the narrative where the action is repeated.

Inconsistency takes on a new meaning in this theory. It is a word of despair. A simile so designated may be without parallel in the two poems, but it could be amply paralleled in lost works, or it may be an innovation or unique usage. Since this is the case, it is far safer to proceed making use of subjects which are paralleled enough times in equivalent contexts in the Iliad and the Odyssey to establish them as traditional families. Let us freely admit that with flawed evidence a modern critic can discover only a percentage of the tradition.

Because the greatest number of scenes in the Homeric poems occur on the battlefield, warriors and armies offer the most numerous opportunities for similes. Consequently, further statements drawn from this analysis of subject matter are based only on the similes which accompany war scenes. The necessity of restricting conclusions to such scenes becomes clear when a few comparisons are made between the similes in battle scenes and those in peaceful episodes. In the fighting on the first three days (Book 4.422 through Book 8) and in the fighting on the next day (Books 11 through 17) the subjects of most similes seem to be chosen in accord with the method which has been presented in this chapter. In the fighting on the first days only fourteen per cent of the similes (6 out of 44) do not fit this theory; on the next day nineteen per cent do not fit exactly (30 out of 155). Since these figures are based on a system which can be only partially restored, such percentages show an impressive consistency in the choice of subject matter.

And yet in the books which do not describe the actions of warriors the percentages of disagreement are significantly higher. In Book 1 fifty per cent (2 out of 4) of the similes do not have a subject which can be paralleled in a similar situation. Book 9 contains seventy-five per cent unparalleled usage (3 out of 4). In Book 23, which describes men striving with one another but not on the battlefield, eighty-two per cent of the similes do not fit the theory (9 out of 11); in Book 24, fifty per cent (3 out of 6). Such startling percentages do not necessarily mean that the theory here proposed is wrong, but rather indicate that there are not enough parallel situations to unwarlike contexts to establish a traditional subject matter with any certainty.

Even when the few books which contain a large percentage of disagreement are included, the theory set forth in this chapter accounts for seventy-four per cent of the similes in the Iliad (253 out of 343). In this percentage are included only similes whose subjects are suggested several times by a repeated context. Those similes whose subject was chosen because there was a close tie in subject, action, or event with the surrounding narrative have not been counted within this seventy-four per cent; such similes probably depend more upon an impromptu connection made in each individual case than upon an established tradition.

The similes from traditional families are repeated often enough to reveal the range of contexts in which such a subject was used. The following chart groups the contexts in which a simile occurs under the subject matter of the simile. Because some subjects modify exclusively either a single hero or else a group of warriors, there are separate entries for singular and plural in each context. The numbers in parenthesis indicate the number of similes in each category found in the Iliad and the Odyssey.

Chart One

Contexts grouped by the Subject Matter of the Similes

Singular

Plural

Lion

Fighting warrior (42)

Fighting warriors (10)

More specifically:

Physical appearance (2)

Emotions of warrior:

joy (1)

stubbornness (3)

warlike spirit (5)

Wind

Attack (4)

Movement of a group (14)

Confusion (1)

Noise of a group (6)

Emotion: Relief (1)

Confusion and distress (2)

Fire

Gleaming (24)

Gleaming (2)

Fighting warrior (14)

Fighting warriors (9)

More specifically: Noise (4)

Anger (5)

God

Attack (10)

Enter narrative (25)

Tree

Dead or wounded (11)

Dead (1)

Motionless (1)

Motionless (1)

Wolf

Attack (4)

Deer

Fear and cowardice (4)

Stele

Motionless (1)

Motionless (1)

Diver

Falling man (3)

Hunt

Pursuit and attack (3)

Pursuit and attack (2)

Children

Unwarlike (10)

Unwarlike (2)

Protection (2)

Insects

Number (3)

Ferocity (2)

Fish

Kill (3)

Dead (3)

River

Destructive sweep (3)

Fighting army (2)

Bird

God (12)

Gods (2)

Attack (6)

Attack (5)

Domestic Animal

Many contexts singular and

plural; for example:

Enter battle (3)

Enter battle (2)

Dead warrior (4)

This chart provides an analysis of the poems as they stand, but Homer probably would not have been able to produce such a chart since it is doubtful that he was ever asked, "In what contexts do you sing a lion simile?" The more probable question, which he must have asked himself as he composed, was, "What kind of simile will best suit the scene of the fighting warrior?" To answer such a question Chart One would have to be reversed; the various subjects available to the poet would have to be listed under the contexts in which they usually occur. The first chart is useful for modern critics as an analysis of the finished poem; the second chart shows, albeit vaguely, the traditional connections between subject and context which were in the poet's mind.

Chart Two

Subject Matter Grouped by Simile Contexts

Singular

Plural

Fighting Warrior

Lion-Fire

Lion-Fire-River

Attack

Lion-Bird-God-(Wind)  [22]

Lion-Wolf-Bird

Entering Battle or Narrative

God-Animal

Animal

Dead or Wounded

Tree-Animal

Fish

Kill

Fish

Physical appearance of Warrior

Lion

Movement

Wind

Motionless

Tree-Stele

Wind-Tree-Stele

Destructive Sweep

River

Pursuit and Attack

Hunt

Hunt

Gleaming

Fire

Fire

Unwarlike

Children

Children

Protection

Children

God

Fire-Bird

Bird

Noise

Wind-Fire

Number

Insect

Ferocity

Insect

Emotion:

Joy in Battle

Lion

Stubbornness

Lion

Warlike Spirit

Lion

Confusion

Wind

Wind

Anger

Fire

Relief

Wind

Fear

Deer

The organized tradition suggested in this chart is consistent with Parry's conclusions in which he identifies simplicity and extension as the marks of a traditional system.[23] Simplicity is the lack of overlapping forms for one specific position; the similes which correspond (i.e., the lion family, the wind family, etc.) have more or less defined contexts in which they appear. Probably the most difficult line to draw lies between the fighting warrior and the attacking warrior. There is some confusion between these two contexts, as might be expected; however similes listed as depicting only the attack of a warrior do not describe the more general picture of the fighting warrior. With minor exceptions there is surprisingly little overlapping of uses. Extension is demonstrated by the wide-spread, restricted, and consistent usage of each simile family throughout both the Iliad and the Odyssey.

Whether Homer himself was a singer or not, the pressure imposed by impromptu composition was definitely a force in shaping the tradition which Homer inherited and which appears throughout the Homeric poems. The tradition which underlies the similes is not as neat as the system of traditional epithets; however, in his desire to keep the poem moving the singer shunned a simile that might not be easily adapted to the narrative or one which simply could not be developed properly in such a situation. Signs of strain or gross inappropriateness would ruin the whole effect of the simile. Because an oral singer could not think out these balances fully beforehand, but rather had to take a subject and develop it as he sang, he customarily resorted to a set subject or subjects which had previously served him well in similar situations. The compelling forces which created the tradition were ease and familiarity. The poet could think of only so much while composing. If the subject matter were more or less given to him by the tradition, he could devote his attention to shaping the elements of the expanded simile.

Another aspect of the traditional diction which is pointed out by Parry is the growth and development of the oral diction.[24] Even though the poet's language is based on a tradition, it is not static or frozen, but by various means, most notably by the game of analogy, the tradition is continually fed with new combinations. The diverse applications of the similes of domestic farm animals may show an emerging or fluid element which has not become firmly attached to any one specific situation, since these similes are used to describe many different facets of the narrative. Either there are not enough examples to allow the construction of a meaningful system of contexts or these similes were not yet prescribed in their usage. Such freedom is also evident in the bird similes which appear in repeated situations, but are also used with flexibility in scenes which were probably unique in the epic world.

There are two tests which can be applied to verify these conclusions: first, a listing of alternate subjects used in the same context whenever such alternates can be found; and second, an examination of the simile subjects in an extended section of narrative.

1. On the basis of Chart Two we can see that lion similes and fire similes are the alternate ways of describing the general picture of the fighting warrior. In the discussion of both families it was pointed out how often each subject occurred in this context; a listing of examples was at that point adequate proof for the existence and the limited usage of each individual subject group.

There is further evidence that a particular context suggested two or three subjects as alternatives. Compare three passages:

(Ajax advances against the Trojans) ἴθυσεν δὲ διὰ προμάχων συῒ εἴκελος ἀλκὴν (17.281)

(Hector fights over the body of Patroclus) Ἕκτωρ τε Πριάμοιο πάϊς φλογὶ εἴκελος ἀλκήν (18.154)

(Idomeneus begins to fight the Trojans) Οἳ δ ὡς Ἰδομενῆα ἴδον φλογὶ εἴκελον ἀλκὴν (13.330)

In each case the poet describes a fighting warrior, each time in different words. Twice the context suggests an image of fire, but once, of a boar. The change is small in these metrically equivalent units, and there seems no reason to choose one in such a context to the exclusion of the other. Chart Two was constructed on the assumption that Chart One could be reversed to indicate alternate subjects which the poet would consider as he sang, an assumption substantiated by this small example. Seldom can such precise parallels be found, but there are a few and these give validity to the system of alternatives represented on the second chart.

A second set of parallel verses will illustrate the difference between the various contexts:

(Sarpedon goes to attack the wall) βῆ ῥ ἴμεν ὥς τε λέων ὀρεσίτροφος, ὅς τ ἐπιδευὴς (12.299)

(Diomedes and Odysseus go to spy on the Trojans) βάν ῥ ἴμεν ὥς τε λέοντε δύω διὰ νύκτα μέλαιναν (10.297)

(Telemachus goes to the assembly and Menelaus begins to tell the story of his trip home) βῆ δ ἴμεν ἐκ θαλάμοιο θεῷ ἐναλίγκιος ἄντην (Od. 2.5 and Od. 4.310)

In all four examples the poet begins the line with a formulaic phrase: βῆ/βάν ῥ/δ ἴμεν. In the first two passages Homer describes warriors prepared to fight entering a hostile situation; lions are suitable subjects. But when a character is entering a situation where he will play a dominant role, Homer chooses a god to be the subject of the simile. This is in accord with Chart Two, in which we see that lions are customarily used to describe warriors while gods describe men entering the narrative. The introductory phrase remains the same, but context determines the subject.

Homer's sensitivity to context is clear when he describes the beaten and briny Odysseus who is about to enter the gentle world of the princess Nausicaa:

βῆ δ ἴμεν ὥς τε λέων ὀρεσίτροφος, ἀλκὶ πεποιθώς And he went like a lion raised in the mountain trusting in his strength (Od. 6.130)

The introductory phrase is familiar. The warrior is likened to a lion—but to a lion who has been pounded by rain and blown by the wind. Odysseus, who comes to Phaeacia as a warrior against the forces which have tried to block his return home, does not fit into the peaceful group of Nausicaa and her companions.[25] Homer appropriately uses a simile of a lion rather than a god to describe the entrance of this hero.

There are other examples of alternatives in scenes which are closely parallel: 13.39 and 14.394 ff. where wind or fire are alternate descriptions of the noise of a group; 13.437, where a stele or a tree describes a man who cannot move; 11.155 and 11.172 where fire and lion similes accompany Agamemnon's slaughter of the Trojans.

All these passages represent a small amount of evidence for the traditional employment of alternate categories of simile subjects. The reason that the number of passages is so small is that all have verbal parallels tying the contexts closely together. Many more examples could be found if such a limitation were not imposed; the point is strengthened by including only contexts which are both parallel in subject and also sung in identical words.

Of equal interest are passages where there are violations of the theory presented on Chart Two. At 15.605 Homer describes the rage of Hector:

μαίνετο δ ὡς ὅτ Ἄρης ἐγχέσπαλος ἢ ὀλοὸν πῦρ And he raged as when spear-shaking Ares or a destructive fire . . .

Nowhere else do fire and god similes appear as alternatives to describe the fighting warrior. In fact, similes of gods customarily depict the warrior who is attacking. In larger perspective Hector is attacking throughout Book 15; but in the immediately surrounding passage his battle rage is specifically described without mention of his actions. It is such a small step for the poet to break away from the immediate context and to view the whole progress of Hector in Book 15 as an attacking warrior that it would be hard to imagine that an oral poet would scrupulously avoid such a larger view. The discovery of such an inconsistency does not vitiate the conclusions of Chart Two but rather humanizes them. Rigorous application of patterns reveals much about the poet when he follows the tradition closely in a limited passage, but such an analysis will inevitably fail when concerns of the larger narrative exert their influence.

Similar is the series 11.747, 22.139, and 15.579. In the first two passages wind and bird similes describe the attack of the warrior, but at 15.579 a hunting scene illustrates the same context.

In those few passages where close verbal parallels can be found there is strong evidence that Homer conceived of the subjects as they are listed by context on Chart Two. It also seems that he saw the same two or three alternate subjects for several contexts.

2. The first half of Book 2 of the Iliad (1-483) contains a sufficient number of similes to examine the choice of subject in an extended section of narrative. When Agamemnon calls the army together to hear his plan, a large group must be portrayed. By the time this gathering has ended and the men have scattered to their tents to prepare themselves for the coming muster, five similes have characterized them. Twice the poet describes the noise which such a mob makes. According to Chart Two there are two predominant subjects by which Homer represents the noise of a group of warriors in a simile: wind or fire. In both similes in Book 2 he chooses wind (2.209 and 394). This subject is probably more suited to the situation because the poet wishes to describe the deep reverberant roar of a crowd which is not engaged in destruction. Twice in this book the poet presents the motion of this huge body of men through similes. Mass motion is described by only one subject, wind. Both times the simile is wind stirring the sea or a cornfield (2.144 and 147). Once the mob streams forward to the meeting in numbers as great as the countless swarms of bees which spread across the fields in springtime (2.87). The size of a group is several times indicated by insect similes. Three aspects of a group of warriors are described in this section of Book Two: noise, movement, and number, and in each case the choice of the subject is in accord with the practice of the poet as derived from the Iliad and the Odyssey.

Immediately following this section a massing of men for the catalogue of ships is described by four similes. Two similes—leaves and flowers,[26] and insects—present the number of warriors (2.469 and 468). The gleam from their shields is like a fire, the poet's only simile to picture brightness (2.455). And the image of flocks of birds shows the army moving to battle (2.459). All these similes are consistent with the conclusions presented on Chart Two.

There are similes which have had to be excluded from this discussion. The evidence to organize these similes into significant categories is so slight that one plays with conjecture in attempting to make them fit a theory. Though they do not disprove the ideas which have been stated here, they offer no substantiation either. Concerning those similes which do fall into large families it seems that the poet because of the demands of oral composition often resorted to a familiar and, consequently, safer method of using the same subject in similar scenes.

There remains the question of the connection between the choice of placement and the choice of subject matter which seem to be two individual choices made on the basis of different factors. The combination of these two choices in the finished performance reflects a system which appears complex and varied because of its many possible combinations and mutations, but in fact, the traditional connections are quite small in number and completely manageable by an oral poet. An understanding of this poetic process depends on separating the major themes of composition from the specific details which form the context of the simile. Such definition is not neat, and often one is reduced to drawing a very thin line; yet this is a useful distinction which will aid in explaining the double choice of the poet: essentially he made each choice by looking at his story in different ways.

The theme is a broad outline of an action in terms of which the poet regularly builds his narrative.[27] It is not attached to any particular name or type character, rather it is a general unit within which the poet organizes the details of his story; e.g., the theme of the council or the aristeia of the single warrior. The headings listed in the first part of Chapter Two are examples of this type of broader theme: the actions of a divine being, the journey of a god, the entrance or the withdrawal of a hero.

Context is a particular version of the theme. It is attached to a specific character and must be sung or be imbedded in formulaic phrases in order to exist; A. B. Lord describes the existence of the theme in this way:

The theme in oral poetry exists at one and the same time in and for itself and for the whole song. This can be said both for the theme in general and also for any individual singer's forms of it. His task is to adapt and adjust it to the particular song that he is re-creating. It does not have a single "pure" form either for the individual singer or for the tradition as a whole. Its form is ever changing in the singer's mind, because the theme is in reality protean; in the singer's mind it has many shapes, all the forms in which he has ever sung it, although his latest rendering of it will naturally be freshest in his mind. It is not a static entity, but a living, changing, adaptable artistic creation.[28]

It is clear that the relation between context and theme is intimate. Yet the simile cannot be hopelessly divorced in fact, spirit, and tone from the detailed description in the surrounding context, since it is to the more specific rendering of the theme that the oral poet looks in choosing an appropriate subject for his simile.

For example, the warrior enters battle; this is a theme which is amply exemplified in the Homeric poems as a traditional location for a simile. The immediate context, however, explains whether he enters fighting, refulgent in his armor, inspiring his troops, attacking another warrior, or in some other way. If the singer introduces a warrior who is rushing to battle, he might use a simile of a lion. If he is gleaming in his armor, then the poet could employ a fire simile. If he is driving the army of the enemy before him and creating utter havoc in a destructive sweep across the battlefield, then the poet might choose a river simile. All three of these alternatives accompany the successive entrances of Diomedes in Book 5 (5.5., 87, and 136). The theme of the entrance of the warrior offers the simile as an alternative means of telling the story, but it is the immediate context which determines the subject matter of each simile. Compare also the variation of subject matter in the series of similes discussed above: 12.299, 10.297, Od. 2.5, Od.4.310, and Od. 6.130.[29]

Behind this system of choices and connections lies the great mass of the oral epic tradition as it had developed in Greece, and to separate the poet from his tradition is impossible. In a real sense Homer was the tradition. Generations of poets had sung songs and by trying new types of phrasing and devices of story-telling had developed various ways of presenting a unified tale. Homer listened to singers who had taken various techniques from the tradition and had made these techniques a standard part of their repertoire; then, as he grew to be a singer and gained confidence, he picked those phrases, formulae, connections, and narrative techniques which suited his particular desires and capabilities.[30] In examining the "tradition" underlying the similes, we are inevitably dealing with those elements of the tradition which Homer had selected as appropriate to himself. While a modern critic cannot hope to delineate Homer's idiosyncratic stylistic features, it is impossible that his surviving narratives do not represent much that is central to the earlier tradition. Homer and his tradition are one or at least inextricably and harmoniously united in one man. Homer did not surrender as a slave to a domineering mistress when he became an oral poet; rather he embraced, embodied, developed, and carried on the tradition. This tradition can be seen throughout the Iliad and the Odyssey—but with special clarity in the placement and the subject matter of the similes.[31]

Notes—Chapter Three

1. Fränkel, p. 7 ff.

2. There are lions represented in Mycenaean art: cf. dagger blades and the gold rhython, S. Marinatos and M. Hirmer, Crete and Mycenae (London 1960), pp. 95-97 and 101 ; also Plate 146, a figured stele (No. 1427) from the shaft graves. The subject surely existed in early artistic representations; for the dissimilarity of treatment in the similes, however, see Shipp, p. 213 ff. The subject could still be quite old while the Homeric formulation is more recent. And, of course, some lion similes belong to general scenes from nature and are, therefore, ageless and undatable.

3. The scenes are so similar and repetitive that D. Mülder, Die Ilias und Ihre Quellen (Berlin 1910), pp. 328-333, argues that all lion similes derive from one basic story. This is probably oversimplified. First, since the whole story which he reconstructs is never given in full and the lion similes do not fall neatly into a story line, he is only assuming that such a story existed. Second such similes as 11.474 do not seem to fit Mülder's basic plot since this lion is merely wandering in the woods. 18.318 is so far removed from the essential story that it is better seen as a description from nature, though there is no need to postulate an independent nature narrative.

4. Sometimes the motion of a lion is compared in the simile and sometimes the spirit. The clearest example of almost total disregard of the narrative in order to convey the spirit is 12.41. Murray, pp. 245-249 pointed out the incongruity of the simile in which Hector is simply not in the same situation as the lion. A. Shewan, "Suspected Flaws in Homeric Similes" in Homeric Essays (Oxford 1935), p. 224 f., states that this simile illustrates Hector's vigor but also his helplessness. I have pointed out supra, p. 59 f. that there is no need for even the most important facts to correspond between simile and narrative; the lion in the simile kills when the warrior does not. At 16.156 the Myrmidons arm like wolves, then suddenly they are wolves who have already killed and sated themselves. In both cases several facts of the simile disagree with the narrative, though the emotion conveyed is apt. Perhaps a better craftsman could have balanced all the factual elements and, in addition could have effectively created an emotional tone in the simile which was like that in the narrative. While Homer as an oral poet does surprisingly well in matching facts, he almost never fails in matching emotions.

5. Infra, p. 120 ff. See also infra, p. 90 f.

6. The difficulty in drawing a sharp line of distinction between related contexts is never more evident than at 13-334 ff and 16.763 ff. In each case it is clear that there is motion involved and, consequently, a wind simile seems appropriate; and yet the impression left by the scene is one of battle, which would usually call for a lion simile or a fire simile. I have no intention of arguing that the classifications of simile families will be completely rigid or applicable without exception in an oral poem; my arguments and classifications are based on the clearest evidence offered by a large percentage of examples.

7. Infra, p. 81 ff.

8. Because of the oral poet's customary repetition of the same words in similar situations, I would disagree with Jachmann's criticism of 5.527. He feels that 5.527 is interpolated from 15.622; G. Jachmann, Der Homerische Schiffskatalog und die Ilias (Köln und Opladen 1958), p. 285 ff.

9. Cf. Snell, p. 196 ff.

10. Supra, p. 38 ff.

11. Cf. 11.192.

12. At Ody. 6.162 Odysseus compares Nausicaa to a palm tree (previously he called her a θάλος at 157). Though not in its formal structure like the tree similes, the passage is too much like them to be left unmentioned. The closest parallel context is the warrior who dies young, but it must be admitted that this comparison does not seem to fit the contextual categories cited for the tree similes.

13. See introduction to this chapter. The oral poet and his audience pictured the whole scene of a simile when it was first mentioned and then could draw connections and relationships which seem like leaps to the critic raised on written poetry. Thus when sheep were mentioned both performer and listener knew that the shepherd was there to be used if desired. Thus, 8.338, in spite of the opening reference to the dog, might be classified as a lion simile since both a lion and a boar appear in it. If it were a lion simile, it would not fit the previously discussed contexts for such a simile. However, when Homer is making close connections between simile and narrative, he is usually careful to match numbers in the lion similes. If one hero is to be described by a simile, the simile contains one lion, while if two or three heroes or two armies are acting, the simile contains a number of lions. There are even lion similes with dual forms (5.554, 10.297, and 13.198). Such care in numbers can be a criterion for determining the purpose of the poet. In this simile the poet is concentrating on Hector's pursuit of the enemy. He takes the very natural simile of the hunt and adds to it something from the traditional subject matter of the simile world, a lion or boar. That the pursuit is foremost in his mind is revealed by the connection of Hector—one warrior—to one dog and the lack of connection between the lion or boar—one beast—and the plural Achaeans. Cf. the inequality of numbers at 11.291 ff. and 17.722 ff. On the other hand, the simile 15.271 is composed of a scene from the hunting similes and one from the lion similes. Because the hunting section does not give equal numbers (stag or goat = Trojan army), Homer is concentrating on the lion; consequently, I have included this simile among the lion family. Cf. 5.161, 13.471, and Od. 22.402.

14. In line 16.641 the antecedent of the pronominal subject is vague. Though it could be the two warriors previously mentioned at 630-637, a general subject, any man, breaks the thought from Aeneas and Meriones at 638. Consequently, the simile at 16.641 seems to refer to the crowd of Greeks and Trojans.

15. This simile is not directly joined to Hector; its point of connection is Diomedes who halts just as a man would halt who sees a river before him in full spate. However lines 590-606 describe the forceful attack of Hector and the Trojans; Homer is merely reforming the traditional scene by mentioning a perfectly usual country character in order to attach his simile to a description of the triumphant hero; cf. Fränkel, p. 7 f.

16. Preceding the simile describing Ajax there is a concise list of five killings which testify to the magnitude of his sweep across the battlefield. Such exaggeration is appropriate in its place because Ajax represents the Greek victory of which Hector is unaware and to which he will immediately turn his attention. Similar is the technique in Book 5, where there is a list of killings by the various Greek heroes before Diomedes, the greatest hero of the moment, rushes across the field in a deadly sweep. This is a splendid introduction for the section of battle which the Greeks are to win and in which Diomedes will be the first extended example of the heroic warrior in action. These river similes cast the hero in an exaggerated heroic role which is underlined by the preceding killings. Hector in Book 5 is aided by Ares and Enyo (5.592 ff.).

17. Infra, p. 81 ff.

18. In fact, this passage is probably not a simile but rather a true transformation, είδόμενος/η usually introduces the transformation of a god into a specific character. The previous example (Od. 1.320) may or may not be a true simile. In form it is a simile, but it is closely connected to the action of the narrative. Bibliography on this problem is cited by Coffey, p. 120, n. 29.

19. This discussion is based on information and plates in M. P. Nilsson, Geschichte der griechischen Religion (3rd ed.; Munich 1967), I, pp. 290-292. Cf. the treatment of Webster 40 ff. and the cautionary statements of G. E. Mylonas, Mycenae and the Mycenaean Age (Princeton 1966), pp. 139, 145 and 176.

20. Parry, p. 221 ff.

21. Noted by Hampe, p. 15 f. and Coffey, p. 123 f.

22. Cf. the similar subjects listed for this context by Coffey, p. 118 f. and nn. 23-25. Fire is listed as a fifth subject, but at 13.53 and 20.423 the heroes are merely described as fighting warriors. In Book 13 Poseidon is talking about the general success of Hector. In Book 20 Hector meets Achilles and then both exchange speeches; when one of them (Achilles) does attack, the simile subject is, as expected, a god.

23. Parry esp., pp. 7-8.

24. Parry, pp. 85-89 and 221-227.

25. Cf. Whitman, p. 115 f.

26. There is some indication that leaves and flowers are used consistently in similes which describe infinite numbers; supra, p. 81.

27. See the discussions of theme in oral verse by A. B. Lord, "Composition by Theme in Homer and Southslavic Epos," TAPhA 82 (1951), pp. 71-80 and his chapter entitled "The Theme" in The Singer of Tales (Cambridge 1960), pp. 68-98.

28. Lord, The Singer of Tales (supra, n. 27), p. 94.

29. Supra, p. 90.

30. See Lord, The Singer of Tales (supra, n. 27), Chapter Two on "Singers; Performance and Training".

31. A classification of individual similes in accordance with this chapter is given in Column Two on the table in the Appendix.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE ORAL COMPOSER:

THE EXTENDED SIMILE

Studies of oral poetry often stress the hold of the tradition on the poet so strongly that there seems limited opportunity for flexibility, and yet it is clear to anyone who has studied oral verse, ancient or modern, that oral improvisation requires continual adaptation. The poet must always think of the effect of the passage which he is singing on the development of his song. He is constantly making adjustments in traditional phrases, lines, and scenes in the hope of singing a better story. It comes as no surprise that the Homeric simile in its extension is subject to the same type of adaptation. Even if the Homeric poems are not pure oral verse, they show how a poet who knew the demands and techniques of oral verse-making approached the extension of individual similes.

Once the oral poet began to sing a certain topic in his simile, he could proceed in various ways. He could curtail the simile very quickly mentioning only the subject and an adjective or a brief phrase. A man falling from a wall is like a diver (12.385); Odysseus straddling a plank on the sea is like a man riding a race horse (Od. 5.371). Because Nastes came to the war dressed in gold trusting that this would protect him, he is a warrior foolishly decorated like a girl (2.872). Hecuba presented to Athena the largest and finest robe which shone like a star (6.295). Such short comparisons are useful in illustrating the visual motion of the narrative or lending immediate value to a character or an object, but they do not provide much coloring or variation to the surrounding passage.

When the poet sang a longer simile, he was acutely aware of the poetic effectiveness of the two or three line simile in coloring his narrative by comparing or contrasting it with other objects or actions. In discussing such a subtle quality it is not easy to be objective.

A modern critic must admit that it is often impossible to perceive the effect intended by an ancient poet. The similes of snowflakes exemplify the perils of subjective judgment:

Just as thick-flying flakes of snow drift down on a winter day when Zeus the counselor brings on a snowstorm revealing his arrows, and calming the winds he sends down continuing drifts of snow until he has covered the peaks of the high mountains and the jutting rocks and the clovered fields and the prospering work of men, and the snow falls along the harbors and beaches of the grey sea but the waves washing on the beach keep it off—all is covered when the snow of Zeus falls heavily upon it. (12.278-86)

This passage seems an image of peaceful calm showing the ever- repeated working of Nature with no abruptness or hardship to disturb the calm of a winter's day, and the other snowflake similes describe equally placid scenes. And yet other acts of Zeus in nature portend evil for men as at the beginning of the Doloneia the lightning of Zeus suggests evils for men—rain, hail, snow or war (10.5). Even when Zeus stretches a rainbow across the heavens (in modern times a sign of good), men fear war or winter,

. . .chill winter, which stops men from their works on earth and afflicts their flocks. (17.549-50)

This might well be the attitude of the Homeric audience toward snow. Suddenly the fine picture of peace and permanence is tinged with fear and suffering. In ascertaining the tone which the poet tried to convey in his similes a modern critic is necessarily at times unsure. Even though such admission will render any proof less precise and will limit the number of similes which can be discussed with any certainty, it is reasonable to handle only those similes in which the tone is clearly indicated by the poet.

Such a limitation will often require omission of the short comparisons, because where there is no clause or descriptive phrase accompanying the noun, it is impossible to talk about the color or tone which the poet had in mind. Hector spinning like a top, a spear point bending like lead, or a man falling like a tower may have provided some suggestive atmosphere, but this is beyond the grasp of today's reader (14.413, 11.237, and 4.462). However there are images which have an established value, such as short comparisons of lions and boars which are taken as much from brutal and blood- thirsty nature as are the longer descriptions. The poet was aware of and exploited such tonal qualities in singing the similes.

I. The Similes of the Iliad

1. Preparing for New Action

Individual similes can set the tone for a scene. Perhaps the finest example precedes the embassy when the Trojans sit by their camp fires joyfully contemplating the victory which is almost within their grasp:

Just as when the stars in heaven shine clearly around the gleaming moon when the air is still, and all the peaks and jutting rocks and glens stand out sharply, and from heaven bright air pours down, and all the stars are seen, and the shepherd is glad in his heart, so many fires blazed . . . (8.555-560)

While the Greeks are stricken with panic, terror, and grief:

Just as two winds stir up the sea filled with fish, the north wind and the west wind, which blow from Thrace, rising suddenly, and a black wave rises into a crest and scatters much seaweed along the coast, so was the heart torn in the breasts of the Achaeans. (9.4-8)

The despair of the Greeks becomes all the more intense by contrast to the Trojans' joy and the similes are for the most part responsible for conveying the feelings of each side. Only in such a state of despair are the sorrow of Agamemnon and the urgency of the embassy fully intelligible. By such contrasts the similes create atmosphere and emphasize in brief scope the motivation for a scene. The actual causes of the Greeks' unhappiness are told in Book 8; the factual narrative makes the feelings summarized in the similes believable.

More common is the sense of foreboding which accompanies the start of a battle or a risky undertaking.[1] There are two basic images used in these similes: stars and storms. The half-simile of the meteor when Athena plunges to the earth to break the truce sheds anxiety over the field.

Like a star which the son of devious Cronos has sent to be a portent to sailors or to the far-flung armies of men, a bright star shooting many sparks, in such a way did Pallas Athena dart to the earth and leapt into their midst. Wonder seized those who were watching, both the Trojans, tamers of horses, and the strong-greaved Achaeans. And a man would say looking at his neighbor: "Again there will be evil war or terrible strife or else Zeus, who is war's watchman among men, will bring friendship to both sides." (4.75-84)

Fear and doubt are not contained within the simile, but men do show an attitude of watchfulness toward such an omen. Something is going to happen. Though a wise man could interpret such a sign, most men must wait apprehensively to see the direction of future events. The simile and the reaction to the comet give a sense of foreboding. Even though the audience has heard Zeus order Athena to make the Trojans violate the truce, such a simile puts the audience on guard that something is imminent; someone is going to be wounded or war is going to begin. It is notable that in such a passage the method by which the action will commence is never made clear. If Athena, like other messengers had merely repeated the words of Zeus, there would be no reason to introduce a feeling of apprehension. However, in scenes where war is near or a significant battle is imminent, a feeling of anxiety is dramatically effective. When the crucial battle after the futile embassy and the Doloneia begins, the armor which Agamemnon wears is decorated with three serpents like rainbows which Zeus has set in the heavens as a portent for men; Hector darts amid the Trojans like a threatening star; and his armor shines like the lightning of Zeus (11.27, 62, and 66). As Achilles runs to meet Hector before the gates of Troy, his armor gleams like the star which is the brightest in heaven, but which also is a sign of evil for men (22.26).

Such similes also contain descriptions of the coming storm. As the Ajaxes arm, they are as fearsome as the dark cloud which causes the shepherd to seek shelter (4.275).[2] The lightning of Zeus which is twice mentioned at the opening of the Doloneia threatens to bring rain, hail, blizzard, or war (10.5 and 154). When Nestor sees the desperate situation of the Greeks, he vacillates like the sea which rolls uncertainly before the storm comes (14.16). In the midst of the battle over Patroclus' body Athena comes like a rainbow which Zeus sets as a portent of war or storm (17.547). In each passage new action is beginning and the outcome is unknown. It is the mark of a good storyteller to convey the mood of his story as well as the facts, and because the simile is not tightly involved with events previous or foreshadowed, it speaks more immediately to the heart than to the intellect and is thus a powerful device for creating atmosphere.[3]

2. War and Peace

Homer's nature similes are for the most part drawn from one of two worlds. The one world is idyllic. Nature willingly pours forth its abundance under sunny skies; creatures of nature live with one another in harmony and accord; men rejoice; even animals are lighthearted. The occupants and objects of this world perform their functions in the ordered manner in which they have and will for ages. Waterfalls rush thundering into deep basins; shepherds delight in nature as they watch their flocks, as children lie safely asleep in their mothers' arms. Waves break endlessly against enduring rocks, and stars shining brightly move across the clear dark sky. In the streets women squabble over trivialities; in homes they weave, while pots bubble over wood fires. In the fields men tend their flocks, plough their fields, and reap their harvests; on the hillside woodcutters chop trees; at the farmsteads men thresh wheat and gather their beans and peas. There is a quiet humor in this world. A gardner tries to irrigate his plants and is outrun by the stream. A donkey proudly ignores puny boys beating at his ribs until he has eaten his fill. In short this is a world of peace and permanence. It is opposed to a world of sudden and threatening events—a world where powers are loose which force one to be on his guard. In this violent world animals are driven by hunger to prey on other beasts, and shepherds are ever alert for a swift attack. Vultures scoop up smaller animals in vicious dives. Lions stalk and are in turn hunted. Wolves' jowls are black with the clotted blood of a stag. Storms strafe the earth breaking forests, threatening to sink ships, swelling rivers to destructive levels. Fires level forests and lightning bolts leave smoking ruins. Men fight in vast wars or murder fellow citizens. If there is joy, it is the bloody joy of a lion chancing on the carcass of a stag. The emotions are fear, stunned horror, and restiveness. Both worlds show views of nature, and both views are true to nature, but for a poet the atmosphere which each creates offers a vast potential.

Homer shows his consciousness of these two worlds when he develops a traditional subject in varied ways:

Just as when the gleam of a burning fire appears to sailors across the water—a fire which burns high in the mountains in a lonely farmyard, but the winds carry them across the teeming sea away from their friends, even though they are unwilling to go . . . (19.375-78)

Just as when a consuming fire descends on a dense forest, and the wind whirling it about carries it in all directions, and the bushes struck by the force of the fire fall uprooted . . . (11.155-57)

These two similes both tell of something destroyed by fire since fire cannot exist without fuel. But the second emphasizes the destruction of a forest while the first shows a fire seen from afar as it symbolizes the comforts of home. If there is any hardship or pain in the first simile, it is with the sailors. The blaze they see is a peaceful flame which stays on the mainland where they would like to be. The basic subject of both similes is the same; the poet has taken one fire from scenes of peaceful nature and the other, from scenes of destructive nature. Similes comparing the army to birds also show this technique. When the Greeks are forming for the Catalogue they are like birds which swarm joyfully over the meadows; but, when they march toward the Trojan army, they resemble the cranes who bring bloodshed and destruction to Pigmy men (2.459 and 3.2). Often the poet describes the waves breaking on the shore or being whipped up on the open sea in the normal course of nature. But twice such a storm threatens to sink a ship and causes fear to the sailors (15.381 and 624). In some similes a shepherd rejoices (8.555 and 13.492). Most of the time the atmosphere of the simile is not so clearly stated, but the poet's extension of a simile indicates which of the two ways of seeing nature he wants his audience to view at that moment.

The simile can never be more than a background against which the narrative is played, and in the Homeric poems there seem to be two types of background, physical and poetic. Physical background is the stage setting which the poet gives to each scene. The description can be very traditional; for example, the shore of the loud- roaring sea where Chryses prays to Apollo. This setting is a short formulaic phrase,[4] and yet it serves to dramatize the isolation of this man who has been driven away from the camp of the Greeks without his daughter. Physical background can be merely two or three items from a familiar scene. Though there is no detailed description of the plain on which so much of the battle takes place, surely no reader can be unaware of it. From time to time the poet mentions rises in the land, the tomb of Ilus, and trees.[5] But there were also bodies of slain warriors and heaps of discarded weapons ever present to the actual participants. Even in scenes where two characters predominate, crowds of men and the bustle of battle surround them. Such a backdrop is appropriate for men who continually fight to kill and to gain glory. There is also physical scenery which is described in great detail like the cave of Calypso which sets the mood of that magical island and the neat palace of Alcinous which shows the accomplishments and ability of this courtly king. The material objects which surround a character and form the physical background can effectively suggest the atmosphere of a scene.

Poetic background is the combination of fact and impression about a character or a place. In the Doloneia warriors leave both camps for spying missions. This is pure fact. But the Greeks send forth two of their most distinguished heroes while the Trojans choose a far lesser man. That might and wit are going to battle with, and will eventually vanquish, cowardice and greed is never said by Homer directly; but such an interpretation arises from the sum of impressions which Homer has given in describing the characters. Many elements can contribute to this poetic background: the poet's descriptions of the character, the character's words, his actions, his ancestry, the foretelling of his future, or the way in which other men receive his deeds. The simile because of its potential for creating atmosphere in a scene can assist in suggesting these impressions.

Most often similes will agree in tone with the surrounding narrative. When there is peace or at least no actual hand-to-hand combat, Homer generally uses peaceful similes. Agamemnon opens the night conference weeping like a spring that drips dark water; Patroclus is described in the same way when he returns to the peaceful enclave around the tents of Achilles (9.14 and 16.3). He is also like a little girl (16.7). When men arm for battle or are about to enter the actual area of fighting, they are characterized by a peaceful simile to make the change to active combat all the more striking. Both Hector and Paris return to battle like proud and exultant stallions. The two are a relieving wind to tired oarsmen (15.263, 6.506, and 7.4). In Book 2 when the Greeks are going to and from the conference which Agamemnon has called and even when they are arming, similes of peace describe them. It is when they begin to move to battle that the first simile of destruction in nature occurs (2.87, 144, 147, 209, 289, 337, 394, 455, 459, 468, 469, 474, 480, and 800; warlike—2.780 and 781).[6] This warlike tone is carried through to the first two similes of Book 3 (3.2 and 10). When Achilles arms for the battle, he takes his shield; the shield shines like a fire in the mountains seen by sailors on the sea (19.375).

When a character has been in action all along but enters the narrative spotlight after a long absence, the same technique is evident. Polypoetes and Leonteus have presumably been active in the battle since dawn,[7] but they have a scene of their own in which they will fight like wild boars and fierce wasps (12.146 and 167). But before they begin to fight, they are like two tall oaks which day after day stand up under the wind and the rain (12.132). When the action changes from the battlefield to the wall of Troy for the Teichoscopia, the similes also shift. On the battlefield war similes are prevalent; on the wall with the elders and Helen, peace is the keynote (3.151, 10,6, and 197). The most extended picture of peace is shown in the funeral games for Patroclus; after the stormy aristeia of Achilles the Greek camp returns to calm as Achilles fulfills his promise to the gentle Patroclus. There is no simile in this book which does not describe a peaceful scene.

Calm, concordant nature accompanies scenes in which fighting plays no part; conversely, war scenes have warlike similes for their background. Since Book 11 is an almost unmitigated story of war from the arming and entrance of Agamemnon to the wounding of Eurypylos, by far the majority of the descriptions of warriors in this book contain similes of destructive nature. There are special reasons explaining similes that are taken from nature at peace. For example, at 11.269 Agamemnon is stopped from fighting by the pains from his earlier wound; this warrior, who has been like a rampaging lion or a ruinous forest fire (11.113, 172, and 155), is now appropriately described by a simile of a woman in childbirth. Throughout the Iliad when characters who may be at peace talk about their past experiences on the battlefield, the image of nature at war is the apt comparison. Achilles tells the emissaries that he used to carry all his spoil to Agamemnon who would keep the greater share and distribute only a small portion to his generals::

As a mother bird brings back mouthfuls of food to her un- fledged young ones whenever she finds it, but she herself suffers, so also I have lain awake many nights . . . (9.323-25)

The ease with which the poet moves between similes of peace and war is evident when Apollo heals Hector (15.262-280). At one minute Hector is racing toward battle like a prideful and playful stallion, then two lines later he is a lion. He has almost immediate effect on the battle situation; the Greeks draw back in fear. To make this transition all the more swift the simile precedes the action which it illustrates: Hector is a lion who frightens hunters; just in that way did Hector frighten the Greeks, an effective piece of story telling which demonstrates the sensitivity of the poet to poetic background. For battle, only a picture of harsh, realistic nature will satisfy. Agamemnon's aristeia contains perhaps the most severe descriptions of the pitiless natural world.[8] However, as soon as his wound disables him, pain—like the pain of a woman in labor—strikes him, and he is led from the plain. This sensitivity is further evident in Book 3. Two places are contrasted—the city of Troy and the area of the proposed individual combat. One is the place of war; the other, the resting place for old men, the secure haven for families, a chamber for Helen to weave her tapestry of battle scenes which are outside and so distant, and a bedroom where Paris can make love. The similes emphasize this contrast. When the narrative focuses on the field, there are pictures of murderous birds descending on Pygmy men, mists which aid the robber and blind the shepherd, a desperately hungry lion who stops to eat from a fallen stag even though the hunters are racing after him, and a man whose cheeks pale with fear as he jumps back from a snake (3.2, 10, 23, and 33). But on the wall the old men are like cicadas who sing through the forest. To them even the plain looks peaceful; Odysseus is like a fleecy ram among his flock and Priam remembers his words drifting like winter snows (3.151, 196, 197, and 222). The narrative alternates between the town of Troy and the battlefield until the very end of the book. At the end of the book when the two locales are contrasted, the simile helps in setting the tone of the battlefield:

Thus he spoke and led the way to the bed, and his wife followed after him. These two then slept upon the corded bed, but the son of Atreus wandered through the crowds of men like a wild beast. . . (3.447-49)

Homer was the poet of proportion and modulation. He composed scenes in direct and seemingly uncomplex ways but always with a sense for emphasizing the proper item to the proper extent. As he developed each simile, he was aware of the tone and the atmosphere which it created, and when appropriate, he made this tone correspond to the narrative in which the simile was imbedded.[9]

3. Peace in War

Since most similes follow the traditional practice and harmonize with their contexts, those which contrast must have been all the more effective. However, a good craftsman elicits all possible power from his tools; the potential which the simile of peaceful nature had in describing a peaceful scene intensified even more powerfully by contrast the violence of a war scene. The aim remains good story telling and such a goal needs no further justification or apology.

While a warrior is fighting in an aristeia, after a critical action has been successfully completed, or when the fighting moves to a new area and becomes more intense, there is often a pause in the action preceding a new event.[10] Very commonly during this pause the poet pulls his audience away from the immediacy of individual combat to see the scene of the battlefield as a whole—where the armies are and who has the upper hand at the moment. Then the poet focuses on action in a new area with new heroes and new situations. Because such scenes are designed to break the action, any similes which appear in them are similes of peace. Such similes divert the audience from the details of the battle and allow the poet to make a fresh start in his scene of war. The focus of the fighting in Book 12 is the Greek wall. First Sarpedon, at the instigation of Zeus, assaults and almost takes the wall. But before the wall is finally breached, there is a scene of equal battle (12.413-438) in which two similes of peace occur. The Greeks and the Lycians fight across the battlements like two men quarreling over the boundary marker in a field; the war is balanced just as a woman holds a balance weighing her wool (12.421 and 433). This passage falls between two scenes of warfare. Then the battle is described as equal until finally Hector picks up a stone and dashes down the gates. Told without the middle scene the facts of the story would be no different, but the action would have been repetitive. The intervening passage allows the poet to have two heroes attack the wall with no loss of glory to either. Each has his own tactic; instead of one movement against the wall there are two equal thrusts. One succeeds and one fails, but Sarpedon is not eclipsed by Hector's success. And Homer can allow the Greeks to defend their wall stubbornly by presenting the battle as balanced which makes the scene more realistic even though the battle efforts of the Greeks are being here ultimately frustrated by Zeus.

There is also a pause in the action in Book 15 when the poet looks away to the tent of Eurypylus and starts Patroclus back toward the camp of Achilles. War is strained like a carpenter's line (15.410). Before the scene the Trojans have just spilled over the wall; after the scene the battle moves toward the ships with a definite break between the two sections of the battle. The simile of peace in a war situation makes the pause more emphatic. At 17.366 ff. there is a long interval in a long battle. Before the pause the subject is the fight to save the body of Patroclus; after the pause events begin to turn toward Achilles. Automedon driving the horses of Achilles has a small burst of glory after which Ajax suggests that Achilles be informed of Patroclus' death. The second part of the book leads to Book 18. In the pause the battle is balanced as both strive to pull the corpse toward themselves; similarly men stretch a bull's hide by pulling it on all sides (17.389). During the aristeia of Patroclus a major stop occurs (16.632 ff.). Before the pause Patroclus had been a relieving force for the Greeks; after it he disobeys Achilles' injunction and presses toward the city. The fighting sounds like the noise of wood- cutters and the warriors gather around the body of Sarpedon like flies around a milk pail (16.633 and 641). A moment of peace in a scene of war, a battle in which both sides are made equal—from such a beginning the narrative begins a new direction with new themes.[11]

A troublesome passage is 13.455-495 which marks a pause in the action while the Trojans under Aeneas and the Greeks under Idomeneus gather about the body of Alcathous. Idomeneus is not like a petted boy but a bristling boar (13.470 and 471). Then as Aeneas gathers his companions, he is a shepherd rejoicing in his obedient flock (13.492). Two of the images in this passage are peaceful; but in the case of Idomeneus peace is depicted in the short simile while the hunted boar is presented at length. Homer may simply be concerned with the consistent characterization of Idomeneus, and because this pause takes place within a brief aisteia, he did not want to diminish the stature of his hero. The action is slowed in preparation for a new situation, and peace aids the retarding and detachment, but Idomeneus must remain the warrior whose spirit stays at the high pitch appropriate to such an aristeia. In a longer aristeia with a warrior who was better known there would be time for variation.

With this exception the simile is extended into a scene of nature at peace whenever it occurs in a general passage where the poet's attention shifts from the immediate details of the battlefield. The pause in the narrative, which is the formal device for changing scenes, is often employed without a simile. When the simile is present, it only reinforces what is being done in other ways through the normal devices of the narrative, but in many cases the simile also strengthens the effect of the pause.

Peaceful similes precede an aristeia. By playing down a man's warlike features during the early activity when other warriors are fighting, the poet prepares to show the hero's strength in combat through contrast. When this main figure finally begins his aristeia and is the only man on the scene, then the similes of war begin as though the first section were merely preparation for what is now to begin. Before Idomeneus is singled out in Book 13, there is a general scene of clashing armies which come together like winds which blow swiftly and raise a cloud of dust (13.334). As a prelude to Agamemnon's single eminence men are likened to reapers; the battle does not change until the hour when the woodcutter stops for lunch (11.67 and 85). Probably the introduction to the aristeia of Diomedes is the longest and most complex, excepting of course that of the principal character Achilles. The Greek troops go to battle rank after rank as the sea, wave after wave, rolls up onto the beach. The Trojans clamor with the squealing of ewes waiting to be milked. The two armies meet with the noise of two falling rivers which pour together into a deep gorge. A man is killed; he falls like a poplar which a craftsman has cut to be the wheel rim on a beautiful chariot (4.422, 433, 452, and 482). Finally when Diomedes himself appears, his armor shines brightly like an autumn star which has just been dipped in the ocean (5.5).[12]

When Achilles arms, the long simile is a peaceful blaze in a mountain clearing (19.375), though the joy of arming for war is even more explicit:

The gleam rose up to the heavens and all the earth about them was laughing with light shining off the bronze . . . (19.362-3)

A possible exception to this use of peaceful similes occurs as the Myrmidons arm before the aristeia of Patroclus and are likened to wolves and wasps, both warlike creatures (16.156 and 259). Patroclus himself, however, is described by peaceful similes until he has actually entered the battle. This departure from common practice may be justified on the basis of good storytelling. Throughout the last part of Book 15 the aim has been to throw fire on the ships. The audience knows that the first flame on a ship will be the sign for the re-entrance of Achilles, who in Book 16 waits for the first view of smoke from the ships. As soon as it comes, the army springs into action. This is not an army which has been fighting day after day but a group of men who have waited to fight and threatened to leave when denied the chance. To describe them arming and marching to battle with images of peace would be inappropriate. They arm quickly and eagerly in the spirit of wolves and wasps. Patroclus, who will have plenty of time to show his skill, is led to battle in the usual way. Only when he begins to fight, do similes of destructive nature describe him.

The peaceful simile which contradicts its setting also shows the inability of a warrior, either permanent or temporary. In Book 8 the power of Zeus is made distressingly clear to the Greeks as threatens the other gods, casts thunderbolts to stop Greek advances, and thunders as the Greeks waver in their thoughts of advance or retreat. In short, the resistance of the Greeks is futile, and they are for the moment unable to succeed. Their inability is marked by similes of peace describing Greeks who want to be warlike. Teucer, the bowman, hides behind Ajax to steady himself for his shots; he is like a child hiding behind its mother (8.271). He kills one man who bows his head like a poppy overburdened with its own fruit and the spring rains (8.306). In the eleventh book Zeus makes very clear that the Trojans will carry the day from the time when Agamemnon withdraws from battle. The rest of this book is a series of Greek woundings; again the words of Zeus have made it clear that all resistance is vain. Does this not explain why Ajax fighting like a wild beast and like a lion also retreats like a stubborn ass (11.546, 548, and 558)?[13] Because of the terms which Achilles sets for his return to the battle, the plan of Zeus must include the burning of the ships. Once Zeus awakens from the sleep into which he was deceitfully enticed by Hera, the plan proceeds on its inexorable path, and the Greeks are helpless. As the Trojans come close to throwing fire on the ships, the Greeks are characterized as a rock by the sea which has endured the ages' endless succession of waves (15.618). Opposed to them Hector is like a fire, like a wave which threatens to sink a ship and drown the frightened sailors, and like a lion attacking cattle (15.623, 624, and 630). At the end of the book Ajax is hopping from ship to ship like a man who dances on horses; Hector is a bloodthirsty eagle preying on small birds (15.679 and 690). In similes the victors are warlike; the losers, peaceful.

Finally, as a simile of peace can mark an unwarlike act, it can also point up an act which is not to be credited to the warrior involved. The poet has made clear that Zeus has planned the defeat of the Greeks. Thus when Hector picks up a stone to hurl at the Greek wall, the poet, while admitting that the rock is huge, also says that Zeus made it light for Hector, who is merely the agent for Zeus' plan at the moment. The Trojans, who want to break through the wall, did not have a chance without the helping hand of Zeus all through this episode. The simile of peace at this point emphasizes the dependency of Hector (12.451). The situation and the subjects of the similes are far different when Hector is healed by Apollo but runs to battle to fight on his own. In the former scene Zeus' hand is directly present aiding the characters while the latter, Apollo merely enables and encourages Hector to do his best.[14] Similarly Athena contrives the breaking of the truce. She swats the arrow to one side like a mother shooing a fly away from her child; the blood from the scrape runs down Menelaus' legs like red dye staining ivory, peaceful comparisons that emphasize the hand of the goddess in the action which is not being presented as true warfare (4.130 and 141).[15] Seldom does Homer ask his audience to accept a palpable fake. Warlike similes in these scenes would put them on a par with serious struggles, which they are not, and Homer says so.

There are then three repeated uses of the simile of peace placed in a context of war:

- 1. To further divert the attention of the audience from the details of a particular battle before a new action begins

- 2. To stress the peaceful moments before battle begins and, thereby, to emphasize the warlike qualities of the narrative once battle has been joined

- 3. To comment on the abilities of a warrior or the restrictions placed upon him.

4. Series of Similes

Although oral poets usually concentrate on the scene which they are singing, there are several examples of a conscious paralleling of narrative motifs through a series of similes. When the Trojans are fighting to break the Greek wall, Zeus sends a wind from Mount Ida which blows dust into the eyes of the Greeks and aids the Trojans. Aid from Zeus in the form of wind is also suggested in the similes. Zeus is in full control of the battle in Book 12.

The Argives broken by the whip of Zeus and crowded together were held by the hollow ships in fear of Hector, a strong man who had caused their panic; but he, as before, fought on like a whirlwind. (12.37-40)

Leonteus and Polypoetes are like two oaks that stand against the wind and the rain when they resist Asios' attack (12.132). Stones fly through the air during the battle from both sides while the winds are momentarily asleep (12.278). Finally the Trojans attack the wall like a black whirlwind (12.375). The image of the wind, which represents the Trojans, coupled with the actual wind in the narrative keeps the reader aware that Zeus is controlling the battle and that the Trojans must eventually take the wall, that the Greek defense is futile.

There is another sequence of similes showing the might of Hector when he is pushing the Greeks back toward the ships. First the Greek lines are firm like rocks which stand fixed against wind and wave. Hector attacks, and this time the wind and wave beat against a ship, and the hearts of the sailors shudder with fear. When Hector attacks again, he is a lion, and the Greeks are cattle guarded by an ineffectual herdsman (15.615-638). The progress from firmness to flight is told more in the similes than it is in the narrative. The Trojan becomes a stronger opponent as the Greeks weaken.

In the aristeia of Patroclus there is a sequence from clear weather to storm which follows the development of the action. When Patroclus puts out the fire on the ship offering relief to the Greeks, it is as though Zeus had moved a cloud and let the heavens be seen clearly (16.297). The Trojans retreat from the ships driven by Patroclus as when a cloud moves over the sky; as Hector flees over the ditch to avoid Patroclus, his horses sound like rivers which rush to the plain swollen by the violent storm of Zeus (16.364 and 384).

5. The Aristeia of Achilles

Usually the connection from simile to simile is in the continuity of tone rather than subject: groups of images of destructive nature in passages about war, groups of images of tranquil nature in unwarlike scenes. This is true only to a limited extent in the culmination of the Iliad, the aristeia of Achilles. Since this final section is the goal toward which action throughout the Iliad has been directed, the poet seems to have lavished special care here in all poetic features including the simile.

Book 18 is a book of decision; Achilles now yearns to enter the battle, a decision reflected in the changes in the narrative elements. Thetis appears in the beginning of the book as the consoling, troubled mother; at the end she helps her son toward war by bringing him new armor. Achilles, who has no armor at the beginning of the book, is fully prepared when the book closes. The sun sets, the sign that Hector's day of glory has come to an end, that a different type of day will dawn. The movement of the book in its various details is from peace to war. The similes accompany the build up of anger. At first Achilles is called a sapling or a tree on the slope of an orchard (18.56 and 57), an appropriately peaceful image since he promises his mother that he will remain out of the battle until she brings him new armor (134 ff. and 188 ff.). Hera, however, sends Iris to spur him into the fight over Patroclus (170 ff.). As he goes to appear on the wall, he makes his first minor entrance into battle. Athena gives him temporary armor by flinging her aegis around his shoulders and placing fire above his head. To accompany the rebirth of his warlike spirit the fire from his head shines like the gleam of signal fires within a besieged city, and his voice is that of a trumpet when a town is being attacked (207 and 219). Then, when he weeps over the corpse of Patroclus, his anger rises like that of a lion deprived of his cubs (318), a subject so often applied to warriors in battle. As he sits with the body, he gathers the fury which will take him to success on the battlefield. Such a gradual rise of anger does not prelude the other aristeiai in the Iliad. Usually preparations for battle are described with similes of peace until the warrior actually enters battle and this will be true of Achilles when his final preparation for battle begins. But Book 18 contains a new topic—the movement from peace to war inside the soul, and it is this movement which is followed by similes which are consistent with the developing atmosphere of the book.

Thetis also joins in the movement from peace to war. She plays three roles in Book 18 symbolizing her change from inactive mother to active helper. She is sitting with the Nereids when she hears the groans of her son. After a lament they all come to the camp where Thetis tries to console Achilles and tells him his fate if he kills Hector. Up to this point Thetis tries to discourage her son from fighting. Then she goes to the forge of Hephaestus sending the Nereids back to the cave in the sea. The departure of her companions in the lament is a visual way of indicating an inner change: she has cast off her mourning and now becomes a supporter of the war which her son will wage. Finally she appears carrying the armor as the harbinger of war. The similes follow this change. Before she returns with the new armor, she describes her son in peaceful similes in the cave of the old man and in the house of Hephaestus; she sees him as a sapling and a tree in an orchard (56, 57, 437 and 438). However, when she comes to the camp with the new arms, the simile is no longer peace; she is a bird of prey (616).[16]

The nineteenth book is the story of reconciliation and arming in which fire is the key image in the similes. When Achilles sees the weapons, his eyes gleam with fire (17). Athena infuses him with divine energy for the day's work coming like a bird of prey (350). As his men arm, his eyes shine with fire, his shield shines like the moon or a fire on a mountain seen from the sea, his helmet gleams like a star, and he goes to battle like brilliant Hyperion (366, 374, 375, 381, and 398). In Book 18 the similes accompanied the rise of anger, but now since the hero is about to enter battle, the extended simile is a peaceful one (375).[17]

In the next three books, which describe the course of the fighting until the death of Hector, three types of tonal theme are mixed in the similes: fire, destruction, and peace. Fire, which is used throughout the Iliad as a description of a warrior, becomes almost uniquely the image of Achilles by the end of the Iliad. [18] It is more than an image. Fire burns around his head when he appears on the wall, and Hephaestus sears the river Scamander with his fire. Fire grows with the anger of Achilles in Book 18 and shines from his weapons in Book 19. His hands are flame, and he rages like a fire in a deep forest (20.371 and 490). When he chases the Trojans into the river, he is like a fire which drives locusts (21.12). He appears to Priam like a star which brings fever to men, and his arms are bright like fire or the sun as he approaches Hector (22.26 and 134).

Second, images of nature at war form part of the background as is appropriate for any aristeia. Achilles threatens Aeneas like an enraged lion and later a ruinous forest fire (20.164 and 490). Like a ravenous dolphin after smaller fish he attacks the Trojans whom he has driven into the river, and he leaps away from the pursuing river like a black eagle, the hunter bird (21.22 and 252). While Hector awaits Achilles like an angered snake (22.93), Achilles chases him as a falcon chases a dove or a dog chases a deer (22.139 and 189). Hector rushes on Achilles the way an eagle rushes on a lamb (22.308).

These two types of similes would be expected in an aristeia, but Homer surprisingly describes the fighting of Achilles with many images of peace. Achilles kills Hippodamas who bellows like a sacrificial bull at the altar while Poseidon rejoices in the sacrifice (20.403). As bulls tread down barley on a threshing floor, so do Achilles' horses trample over the dead bodies and the axle is sprinkled with blood (20.495). The river threatens to overwhelm Achilles just as a man guiding a stream for irrigation is outdistanced by the fast flowing water, and he may die like a swineherd boy who is swept away by the river (21.257 and 282).[19] Achilles runs lightly toward the city of Troy like a race horse, and in his pursuit of Hector the two are like two horses which race around a turning point (22.22 and 162). Finally the similes of fire and those of peace are joined to describe the spear point which will kill Hector:

Just as one star which goes among the others in the darkness of the night, the Evening Star, which stands as the most beautiful star in the heavens, such was gleam from the sharp spear which Achilles was shaking . . . (22.317-20)

These similes of peace are particularly important because they are unusual in a scene of war. If they were the only indication of an undercurrent of peace opposing the narrative of war, there would probably be no point in stressing them. However the physical background is also not that of other aristeiai. When other men fight, the poet through general scenes of the armies or the constant presence of comrades makes his audience aware that the warrior is always in the midst of the battlefield; and yet Achilles fights alone. He meets his opponents alone and so completely dominates the action that the other heroes and the rest of the army are scarcely mentioned. Achilles is not always in the midst of the conventional battlefield. In Book 21 he fights at the river Scamander:

But when they came to the crossing place of the fair flowing river, the swirling Xanthus, whose father was the immortal Zeus. . .

Half of the men were crowded into the deep stream with its silver whirls . . .

But the god-born Achilles left his spear there on the bank leaning against the tamarisks . . . (21.1-2; 7-8; 17-18)

This is scarcely the background against which other heroes have fought. The chase around the city of Troy has also a different setting:

They ran by the watching place and the wind-blown fig tree ever away from the wall along the wagon track, and they came to the fair-flowing springs. There the two source springs of the whirling Scamander spout up. The one runs with hot water and from it steam rises as though from a burning fire; but the other even in summer runs water like hail or cold snow or ice that forms from water. There beside these are the magnificent stone washing basins where the wives of the Trojans and their fair daughters washed their clothes clean in peace time before the sons of the Achaeans came. (22.145-56)

Once again this is a background appropriate for peacetime activity, not for the slaughter of Hector. Beauty and peace form the physical background and color the actions of the characters in this section of the narrative.

The shield of Achilles in Book 18 is both physical and poetic background. It is physical background simply by being a material possession of a warrior. But it is poetic background because it is decorated with so many images which are similar to the other images which are present throughout the aristeia of Achilles. Peace and war are both represented. One city is at peace; marriages, festivals, and justice are its activities. Ploughmen drink honey-sweet wine as they turn their ploughs; while reapers bind sheaves, girls and young men whistle and sing as they gather grapes. Cattle are driven to pasture, and sheep feed in fields. Dancers whirl in the theater. But the other city is under siege and men wait in ambush; the goddesses Strife, Confusion, and Death go along the battlelines. A bull is attacked by two lions while the herdsmen set dogs against them. In the center of the shield are the heavens dotted with constellations; around the rim is the endless river Ocean. The shield is not a simile, and yet many of its subjects are the same as those in the similes: a city at war, ploughmen, reapers, lions attacking herds, and flocks of sheep. The shield is a picture of the ordered daily life of mankind; it is a summary of the universe in motion—both peace and war, life and death, justice and treachery. This shield with its cluster of images stands at the beginning of Achilles' aristeia. Homer describes separately the detailed pictures embossed upon it; but when Achilles picks it up, he sees only the red glow of fire (19.374 ff.).[20] In many ways—in the isolated fighting of Achilles, the inappropriateness of the scenery in which he fights, the detail on the shield which he bears to battle, and in many of the similes—the aristeia of Achilles differs from the other aristeiai of the Iliad.

In Book 23 when peace is restored to the Greek camp, the similes are all of peace. In Book 24 though Achilles is externally calm, his anger is unabated and dies slowly. Warlike similes describe his anger; he is a lion, and Iris goes to Thetis like a weight attached to a fish hook which brings death to fishes (24.41, 572, and 80).

But why is there such a contrast between the acts of the hero and the way in which they are presented? It is a poetic way of representing the strange behavior of Achilles. He stands out from all the other warriors of the Iliad because he is playing the role of the vengeful warrior with uncharacteristic strictness. Though previously Achilles had taken men like Lycaon alive and sold them for ransom, now he will not even acknowledge the suppliant Trojan at his knees. Hector asks him to honor his body at least when he is dead, and Achilles not only refuses but so dishonors the corpse that the gods are distressed. To show the inversion of nature, gods fight gods in severe battle—although no harm can come to them—and, against all experience, fire extinguishes water as Scamander retreats before Hephaestus.

At the end of the poem Achilles regains the humanity which must be a part of every heroic warrior. Diomedes can talk to Glaucus and even exchange gifts in the midst of war; Ajax and Hector can fight like mortal enemies, but when the single combat is over, they exchange compliments and gifts. Such actions do not detract from the honor of a warrior, but show these men are aware of the bonds of humanity which unite them. To praise excellence in an enemy is no vice, but this Achilles will not do. To him for the moment all Trojans are enemies who are to be destroyed and desecrated after death, a vain doctrine, and Achilles finds no satisfaction in maltreating the body of Hector. Only the humanity of Priam shakes Achilles' anger and pride; Priam, though a king, pays homage to the excellence of his son's slayer by kneeling before him.

The disparity between the heroic code as exemplified by true warriors and the gruesome semblance of it practiced by Achilles is shown in his actions and the reactions of the gods. Achilles' sleeplessness, weeping, and solitary wandering are symptoms of the emptiness left by Patroclus' death. Dishonoring Hector's lifeless body offers no relief and only outrages the gods, as when Apollo points up Achilles' inhumanity by saying that other men suffer personal loss and forget; the Moirai have put an enduring spirit in all men but Achilles (24.46 ff.). This disparity is reinforced by the similes and the physical setting, both of which create a thoroughly contrasting tone to that of a true heroic aristeia.

The similes are small in scope, but as the poet extended them from the basic subject, he could develop each one to emphasize or contradict his story. If there was a contradiction, the singer was probably commenting on some element in the narrative. The similes in the aristeia of Achilles, though a purely secondary method by which the poet could indicate his feelings, effectively underline the basic themes of the great battle, the disillusionment, and the rebirth of human sensitivity in Achilles. The aristeia of Achilles combines many of the uses of the simile which are seen scattered throughout the rest of the narrative. This story of a great warrior finding inner peace is the culmination of the Iliad and reveals both in the building of the larger tale and in the extension of the similes the hand of a practiced and sensitive poet.

II. The Similes of the Odyssey

The simile is not as vital a poetic technique in the Odyssey as it is in the Iliad, therefore any comment is based on a smaller amount of significant evidence and leads to conclusions which are often conjectural. There are two explanations for the lack of firm evidence in the Odyssey. First, a modern critic requires many extended similes with adequate parallels, both of which the Odyssey lacks, the number of similes being only about one-third that of the Iliad. Because the plots of the two poems are so different, the number of parallel instances which can be taken from the Iliad and applied to the Odyssey is slight. Second, sixty percent of the similes in the Odyssey are short, and for the most part it is impossible to ascertain the intent of the poet in singing a short simile. Waves as big as mountains or mountain-sized people do not lend any ascertainable atmospheric touch to the narrative but they merely express size (3.290, 9.190,10.113, and 11.243).[21] Similes of the sun and the moon are not drawn out but indicate the brightness of a palace or cloak (4.45, 7.84, 18.296, 19.234, and 24.148). Without these two sources of evidence a view of the similes in the Odyssey which approaches our understanding of the similes in the Iliad is impossible.

There are, however, no similes in the Odyssey which are used so differently from their counterparts in the Iliad that the hand of another poet or the marks of another tradition can be clearly proved. The plot of the Odyssey differs so radically from that of the Iliad that seeming discrepancies can often be explained by reference to the basic stories. The Odyssey is focused on one man who meets many different creatures in many different settings; the Iliad is about many different men who meet each other in the same place for the same type of activity, war. If one of the functions of the simile is to provide variation and interest, there simply is less need for similes in the Odyssey because of the constantly shifting setting and the varied, wondrous characters who fill the scenes. Yet those similes which do occur in the Odyssey seem to be placed, given subjects, and extended in the same way as the similes in the Iliad. Subjugated to the story and the narrative demands of individual scenes, the similes in the Odyssey are sung with due regard for their traditional qualities and with full feeling for the tone which they lend to the narrative.

The Odyssey contains similes of peace and of war, both of which are used to the same effect as they were in the Iliad. For example, the young princess, who comes with her companions to wash her fine clothes, meets Odysseus, the unclad solitary stranger cast from the sea. The maid is compared to Artemis running jubilantly on the mountain slopes with her companions while Odysseus is a hungry, weather-worn lion who yearns for food (6.102 and 130). As Odysseus gains admittance into the royal household the simile shows the change in him; his hair is like hyacinth, and Athena sheds grace upon him as a craftsman overlays silver with gold (6.231 and 232). Later when Odysseus takes his vengeance on the suitors, the alternation between peaceful and destructive views of nature is similar to the treatment of aristeiai in the Iliad. As Odysseus' anger swells, he snarls like a bitch standing over her pups when she senses danger (20.14). When the warrior is actually in the process of preparing for battle—the fetching and stringing of the bow—the similes become peaceful; the battle is about to begin, but for the moment there is peace. As Penelope opens the doors of the storeroom, they bellow like a bull grazing in the meadow. Odysseus strings the weapon of revenge as though it were a lyre; when he plucks the string, it sings like a swallow (21.48, 21.406 and 411). Then follows a series of individual encounters. Odysseus and his loyalists attack like vultures which slay defenseless birds (22.302). When Odysseus surveys the fallen suitors, he sees them as a heap of fish who lie dying on a sandy beach; he sits amid them like a blood-covered lion (22.384 and 402). The women holding their heads ready for the noose are like thrushes or doves which have fallen into a trap (22.468). However, when the fighting is over, Odysseus is once again beautified with hyacinth hair and a golden grace; Penelope is as happy as men who finally reach land after their ship has been sunk (23.158, 159, and 233).

A simile of peace in a warlike setting marks the inability of warriors in the Odyssey's battle book, Book 22, where two such similes are placed together (22.299 and 302). The suitors are driven like cattle while Odysseus and his men are compared to vultures.

Perhaps the most noticeable departure from the Iliad is the use of a continuing theme in the similes. Whenever a certain subject arises, it attracts the same type of simile. When the murder of Agamemnon is mentioned, the simile is of a slain animal: twice of an ox at the stall and once of swine slain for a banquet (4.535 and 11.411; 11.413). In the Iliad from Book 18 through 22 fire similes are always applied to Achilles; but fire is a common simile describing several warriors in the Iliad. In the Odyssey there are certain simile subjects which run throughout the poem as secondary themes. The lion was a traditional image for the warrior; yet similes of lions accompany the lonely Odysseus and the delicate Penelope. Odysseus is the man who might fight continually to win his way home and even in his own palace must fight for his rights; in his battle from a homeless, lonely existence to full recognition and acceptance by his family he is often compared to a lion. This comparison arises, too, when people talk about the revenge which Odysseus will exact from the suitors. Menelaus tells Telemachus that his father will unleash a cruel doom just as a lion devours two fawns, a statement Telemachus reports word for word (4.335 and 17.126). When Odysseus emerges from the bush in Phaeacia, he is like a lion (6.130). Penelope, a subtle resister of the suitors and a partisan of Odysseus, fears like a lion who is being fenced in by men (4.791). Finally Odysseus after he has slain the suitors is:

spattered with blood and filth like a lion who departs after feeding on an ox in the countryside—his chest and his jaws on either side are bloody and he is a terrible sight to see (22.402-5)

From the start of the poem this revenge is foreshadowed in the thoughts and actions of Odysseus and Penelope. Part of the fore- shadowing is represented in the lion similes sung throughout the poem at the mention of their names and recalled at the moment of triumph.[22]

A thematic group of similes of family relationship crowd about Telemachus, Odysseus, and Penelope. When Telemachus speaks, the images of the father-son relationship seem to spring to his lips. He tells Athena-Mentes that she is as kind to him as a father is to a son, and he reminds the townspeople that Odysseus was a fatherly king to them (1.308 and 2.47). Eumaeus greets Telemachus as a father greets his only son (16.17). He tells Penelope that he was welcomed by Nestor as enthusiastically as a son is welcomed by his father (17.111). Odysseus is also depicted by family similes. Mentor and Athena say that he ruled as gently as a father (2.234 and 5.12). On reaching land he rejoices as children rejoice when they learn that their father will recover from an illness (5.394). When Demodocus sings of the fall of Troy, Odysseus weeps like a woman who sees her husband cut down before the gates of his city (8.523). Odysseus and Telemachus meet in the swineherd's hut and wail like birds bereft of their young (16.216). As Penelope tells of her vacillation before the suitors, she is like Aedon who laments the death of her son (19.518). Similes of family life and love surround these three characters who are struggling to return to their peaceful existence—an existence which they enjoyed before the family was shattered by the Trojan War and which will only be regained when the lord of the house once again walks as master in his halls.[23]

These two motifs are developed in similes over the whole length of the poem. Because the Iliad is not a poem which tells a story as continuously as the Odyssey, it offers no examples of such an extended theme. The Odyssey is a different story lending itself to a different style; the similes aid the poet in telling this type of continuing story more vividly.[24]

Tradition seems to have suggested the placement and the subject of the individual simile, while the poet exerted his own sense of the story in continuing each simile beyond the basic subject. In several repeated situations the poet chose to develop his subject in similar ways and thus offered proof that he was fully conscious of augmenting his own telling of the tale in extending his simile. Each simile could be extended six or seven lines or cut off after a short half-line phrase; thus lion similes are sometimes very long, often medium, and sometimes short. The creation of proper atmosphere seems to have been an important goal for the oral poet. His task was to keep the story moving while giving each element the proper stress since, in essence, he was striving to make the story easier to understand and more interesting. The extension of the simile was not dictated by the details of the surrounding story or the narrative demands of the situation within the simile; rather the decision to stop or to continue was made by the poet as he sang each simile and attempted to achieve a certain effect in developing its particular details. If the simile did not balance the narrative in all its elements—or perhaps in almost none—no harm was done as long as the dramatic illusion of the poem was maintained. Critics have tried often to explain the connection between the groans of Agamenon and the lightning of Zeus (10.5). In oral poetry no precise balance is needed; establishing a mood of anticipation is reason enough for the simile. If the simile continued in its own development further than the narrative situation and thus created a confused and unfulfilled foreshadowing of coming events, the poet was not disturbed. He and his audience were aware that the simile did not have to match detail with detail. The ravenous wolves are stuffed with their prey, while the Myrmidons have not set foot on the battlefield (16.155 ff.), but there is no difficulty here for an oral poet or for his audience. The extended simile is a kind of independent poem which lends a tone to the whole of the narrative in which it is imbedded even though it may not offer much information about that scene.

Notes—Chapter Four

1. The simile is not the only method of coloring a scene with apprehension. For example, with their knowledge of destiny the gods can act directly. When Zeus sends an omen—an eagle clutching a snake—to Troy, the snake is in desperate straits but escapes. Polydamas interprets this sign clearly though Hector disavows all belief in birds (12.200 ff.). Zeus ponders the timing of Patroclus' death (16.644 ff.). Direct action of men can also be significant. Achilles knowing Patroclus' abilities has told his comrade to give relief but not to go further. At 16.686 Patroclus goes further:

... if he had only regarded the word of the son of Peleus, he would have fled the evil fate of black death.

Such passages, however, distract the audience from the course of events even though there may be an appropriate pause in the narrative for such an insertion. A simile is probably more effective; it does not require such a pause, it allows the narrative to proceed from the same point, and it can more directly communicate emotion.

2. W. Moog, "Naturgliechnisse und Naturschilderungen bei Homer," Zeitschrift für angewandte Psychologie 6 (1912) 123-173 on p. 134, speaks of such similes: "In ihnen sieht der Mensch das unheilvolle Wirken elementarer Gewalten, er fürchtet ihr Kommen, er ahnt das Losbrechen des Sturms, und er freut sich über ihr Verschwinden."

3. G. E. Duckworth, Foreshadowing and Suspense in the Epics of Homer, Apollonius, and Vergil (Princeton 1933), pp. 14-15 and "Proanaphonesis in the Scholia to Homer," AJP 52 (1931), pp. 320-338 suggests that similes do more than awake fear and doubt in the audience; they foreshadow coming events.

4. 2.209, 6.347, 9.182, 13.798, 23.59.

5. The physical description of the battlefield is simple. Homer keeps the general area in mind and adheres to the plan in his scattered short references to the battlefield. There are two tombs of fairly large size—Aesyetes and Ilus (2.793; 10.415, 12.166 and 371, 24.349). The tomb of Aesyetes is a watch post for the Trojans while the Tomb of Ilus seems to be far away from the city and relatively near the Greek ships; Hector calls a conference there when the Trojans fill the field up to the wall (10.415). There is also a rise on the plain far from Troy (10.160 and 11.56) which may be near the tomb of Myrine (2.814). Two trees designate location. The fig tree is toward the city but not too near; the oak tree is at the Scaean gates. These locations are neatly summarized as Agamemnon chases the Trojans away from the ships:

The Trojans raced by the tomb of ancient Ilus, son of Dardanus, through the middle ground of the plain by the fig tree, as they rushed toward the city. Agamemnon crying after them followed them close and his invincible hands were spotted with the bloody filth. But when they came to the Sceaean gate and the oak tree, there they took a stand. . . (11.166 ff.)

Andromache advises Hector to fortify this spot, and the city will be safe, but the strategic nature of this point is not mentioned again. There is another tree at 5.693. Finally the best indications of corpses are 8.489 ff. and 10.199. The battlefield seems a consistently drawn backdrop for war.

6. The peaceful simile of flowers and grains of sand by which Iris describes the hordes of approaching Greeks seems to deny this statement (2.800). However there is a larger narrative function in which this simile is involved. The men are put in battle order before the listener during the Catalogue, and then they immediately begin to move to battle. They move forward like the fire that sweeps the land and are as heavy as the lightning of Zeus strafing the earth. But now the action must be retarded. The Greeks are on their way, but the Trojans must organize in similar fashion. Zeus sends Iris to prepare the Trojans which guarantees that they will not be unprepared for the attack, thus removing excitement at the thought of surprise attack and slowing the pace of the narrative. Iris' disguise is fully described. If there were need for rush, it would not have been mentioned or it would have been more briefly described. For example, Athena speaks directly to Diomedes when he must escape quickly (10.507 ff.); Iris does not pause for a disguise when she tells Hector to stay out of battle until Agamemnon is wounded (11.195 ff.). In Book 2 the description of Iris-Polites slows the action. The simile of peace aids in diverting the listeners' attention from the anticipated battle. The similes of war in Book 3 show both armies on the march (3.2 and 10).

7. They are mentioned in the catalogue of ships at 2.740 ff. At 6.29 Polypoetes kills Astyalus.

8. Cf. 11.113, 155, and 172.

9. Similar technique is evident in the series of similes at the end of Book 17. The Greeks carry off Patroclus. The Trojans charge like hunting dogs after a boar. Fighting grows about them like a fire which destroys a city. Menelaus and Meriones take away the body like a team of mules pulling a ship timber. The Ajaxes hold back the enemy as a ridge holds back a destructive flood. Aeneas and Hector chase the Greeks who scatter like small birds before a falcon (17.722-761). The only simile drawn from nature at peace—the mules—is applied to the heroes who are unable to fight because they are carrying the body (17.742).

10. Cf. U. Hölscher, Untersuchungen zur Form der Odyssee {Berlin 1939). pp. 40-41.

11. Although not in a general scene, the simile at 17.4 is in the pause following the aristeia of Patroclus. Action stops for an exchange of speeches between the victorious Hector and the dying Patroclus and then begins again in the battle over his body. The description of Menelaus as a cow over her young marks the break before the battle enlarges to a greater number of heroes.

12. In both the introductions of Agamemnon's and Diomedes' aristeiai there is a short simile of wolves (4.471 and 11.72). Although the similes are short, it is difficult to see any tone in them other than hostility and destruction. On the other hand they are not developed as wolf similes can be to show extreme hostility (cf. 16.156 and 352), and they are formulaic—in fact repeated. Since the longer and consequently stressed similes in both passages emphasize peace, I feel that the interpretation here presented is justified.

13. If the interpretation in Chapter 2, n. 32 is correct, there is an appropriateness to the ass simile here. Previously in Book 11 Greek heroes have been compared to heroic beasts: Odysseus and Diomedes to boars (324), Diomedes to a lion (383), Odysseus to an embattled boar (414), and Ajax to a lion (474). Lines 544-574 are a summary scene which presents the last view we shall have of the general battle for 300 lines. Following this scene Eurypylus is wounded; later he will lend weight to Nestor's arguments by raising Patroclus' compassion for his fellow Greeks. The rest of the book is Nestor's attempt to persuade Achilles to save the Greeks. The valiant Ajax fighting like a wild beast and like a lion (546 and 548), but incapable of holding his ground and retreating stubbornly like a mule (558), is a symbol of Greek despair. The plan of Zeus presses against the Greeks, and Zeus himself is compelling Ajax to retreat (544). The simile of the unwarlike mule further indicates the Greeks' helplessness.

14. The hand of Zeus dominates the battle in book 12. The wall will not hold the Trojans back (3). Zeus whips the Greeks (37 ft.). Zeus plans to give Hector glory, not Asius (173 f.). Zeus sends a blinding dust storm against the Greeks (252 ff.). Zeus rouses Sarpedon; if he had not, the wall would not have been taken (290 ff.). Zeus protects Sarpedon as he rips away bits of battlement (402 f.). The battle is evened out until Zeus gives Hector his glory, and he, as the first Trojan, penetrates the wall (437 ff.). When this task is done, Zeus can look away (13.1 ff.). The warriors are given and denied glory at the whim of Zeus. When Hector breaks down the doors, he is in himself strong and able, but Zeus is responsible for his success. The scholion at 12.450 explains the rejection of this line by Zenodotus, Aristophanes, and Aristarchus as unsuitable because it diminishes Hector's power. I feel that the power of Zeus in the battle is sufficiently demonstrated to tolerate this line. If my interpretation of the simile at 451 is correct, the line is most appropriate. Cf. the use of wind similes discussed in the following section.

15. Another example is at 15.362; Apollo pushes over the Greek wall as easily as a child scatters sand on the beach.

16. Thetis plays three successive roles in book eighteen symbolic of her change from inactive mother to active helper—peace to war. First, she is sitting with the Nereids when she hears the groans of her son; they all lament (18.35 ff.). Thetis and the Nereids come to the camp. Thetis tries to console Achilles and tells him his fate if he kills Hector. Second, she goes to the forge of Hephaestus but sends the Nereids back to the cave in the sea. When the Nereids leave her, she has cast off her mourning (a psychological change made visual in the departure of her mourning companions) and becomes a supporter of the war which her son will wage. Finally, she appears carrying the armor as the direct agent of battle; Achilles has said that he will not enter war until she brings the armor.

17. Supra, p. 103 ff.

18. Whitman discusses the extent of the fire imagery in his chapter 7, "Fire and Other Elements." It is significant that Patroclus never has a fire simile applied to him. He is Achilles' substitute and has limitations set upon him by Achilles. He cannot carry the large spear of Peleus (16.140 ff.). His chariot is drawn by two immortal horses and one mortal, Pedasus (16.152 ff.). Fire does not illuminate the heroic fighting of Patroclus. He himself receives no similes as he arms. These poetic impediments are gone when Achilles enters the fighting; cf. J. I. Armstrong, "The Arming Motif in the Iliad," AJP 79 (1958), pp. 337-354.

19. There are two similes of peace in this section—one for Hephaestus and one for Scamander (21.346 and 362). These may contribute to the peaceful similes describing the battle throughout the aristeia but also may describe the presence of the gods' hands in a battle. Cf. supra, p. 110 ff.

20. For a discussion of the use of the shield see Whitman, pp. 205-206 and K. Reinhardt, Die Ilias und Ihr Dichter (Göttingen 1961), pp. 401-411.

21. In this section all references are to the Odyssey.

22. The only other lion simile describes the Cyclops devouring two men, an image that shows the roughness and bestiality of this savage. He is a lion while the Greeks are puppies (9.289 and 292). Odysseus and Penelope are each compared to lions one-sixth of the time that they are accompanied by a simile (Odysseus: 4 out of 25; Penelope: 1 out of 6).

23. These similes are used a significant number of times. One-quarter of Odysseus' similes refer to the family (6 out of 25); Telemachus has one-half family similes (4 out of 8) ; Penelope, one-sixth (1 out of 6).

24. Cf. Whitman, Chapter 12, "The Odyssey and Change" and M. van der Valk, "The Formulaic Character of Homeric Poetry and the Relation between the Iliad and the Odyssey," LAntiquité Classique 35 (1966), pp. 5-70.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE ORAL COMPOSITION OF THE SIMILES

The preceding three chapters have described the inception and development of the individual simile from a mixture of the inherited oral tradition and the poet's own sense of good narration. There are certain implications in such a theory which may seem hard to accept, especially those regarding the independent and autonomous nature of the simile. It is natural and easy to assume that a pervasive complementary relationship between each simile and its narrative has been created by the unifying touch of the poet, and such an assumption may be perceptive and valuable in regard to a written masterpiece like the Aeneid. It is, however, largely inapplicable to an oral poem.[1]

In several basic aspects the relation between simile and narrative in Homeric poetry is slight:

1. The Placement of the Simile: The same type of narrative may have a long simile or a short one or no simile at all or even two similes; the simile in conception is a separate unit which can be added or subtracted easily from a scene.

2. Point of Comparison: Some similes have an obvious connection to the narrative while others still defy commentators, and, in addition, there are those in which the point of comparison shifts while the poet is singing the simile.[2] The precision of balance between one object in the narrative and one in the simile is of secondary concern. Of major importance to the poet is the presence or absence of the simile; its connection to its passage is a formal concern and occupies the poet only briefly.

3. Extension of the Simile: The simile is a very small atmospheric or tonal unit. It reinforces the direction and subtleties of the narrative; but it does not tell the story and can disagree with the details of the surrounding narrative. The length of the extension is determined by the poet's wishes in coloring each scene; which is to say that the length of the simile is controlled by the poetic needs of the total passage and the amount of extension required to create a simile of unambiguous tone.

These three conclusions, which have been derived from an examination of individual similes and their settings, imply that the oral tradition's regulatory force is based more upon suggestion than dictation. When the poet chose to use a certain type of simile, his thinking about placement and subject matter was conditioned by the surrounding narrative and his remembrance of previous performances. The narrative did not require that the poet follow one and only one recommendation of the tradition; he chose between several alternate suggestions. Similarly, when the poet extended his simile, he could always have attempted to devise a series of details which closely paralleled the narrative, but he seems to have sought to match only the tone of the simile with the surrounding narrative. The oral tradition cannot and does not, of itself, compel the poet to choose unwillingly the length, the subject, the location, or the tone of his simile. The poet remains free to develop each simile as he wishes.

Thus the poet is as free in formulating the individual simile as he is in singing any scene in the narrative. It is, therefore, to be expected that the types of materials available to him in terms of words, phrases, and longer blocks of lines should enable him to compose each simile as a unit independent from the narrative. Only if he is adequately supplied with such materials will the interpretation of the similes offered in this study be consistent with our knowledge of oral verse-making. Consequently it is important to determine the kinds of formulaic or linguistic units in which the oral poet composed. There are two topics for examination which aid in isolating the irreducible units of oral composition found in the similes:

1. The repeated similes

2. Methods of extending the simile

I. Homer's Repeated Similes

The repeated similes in the Iliad and the Odyssey are important evidence which must be fitted into any theory concerning our understanding of the oral poet or the composition of the poems. One theory explains that similes are consciously repeated by a master poet who dominated the construction of the whole Iliad or the whole Odyssey. [3] In this theory such similes become small bits of evidence for a strongly unitarian point of view. Alternatively, one of the pair of repeated similes is criticised as a pale reflection or mindless copy of the other—which then, of course, becomes vigorous and forthright, well-set and suited to the surrounding narrative.[4] From such disagreement it is, at the very least, clear that one's interpretation of repeated similes must somehow be consistent with one's conception of the composition of the poems.[5]

There are numerous repeated similes in the Iliad and the Odyssey. In fact, it seems inevitable for an oral poet to repeat short similes coming at the close of the line and filling a conventional space. For example, the following repeated simile-phrases fall between the Bucolic diaeresis and the end of the line:

The choice between several of these metrically equivalent phrases depends on the context: Ajax attracts the phrase "like a tower." However there seems little reason on the basis of immediate context to choose "like a wild beast" over "like a whirlwind"; there are enough examples of warriors attacking like various wild animals—lions or boars—that there appears no reason for the poet to neglect the phrase "θηρὶ ἐοικὼς" when speaking of Nestor's attack at 11.747.[6] It is clear that there are metrical considerations which would suggest this list of similes to the poet often enough for him to repeat them. The instances of the wild beast and whirlwind similes imply that several simile units may have been interchangeable provided that their subjects did not drastically disagree with the surrounding narrative and were sanctioned as alternates by the oral tradition; timid fawns and savage animals are essentially so different that they are probably not alternatives for any one context.

More interesting are the eight repeated longer similes ranging from two lines to eight lines; each pair is contained exclusively in only one of the poems so that there is no necessary connection between the Iliad and the Odyssey. The eight repeated longer similes are:

1. 5.782=7.256: The men around Diomedes stand like lions or boars; the single battle of Ajax and Hector is described in the same words

2. 5.860=14.148: Ares and Poseidon on separate occasions shout like nine or ten thousand warriors

3. 6.506=15.263: Paris and Hector both go to battle like a stallion

4. 11.548=17.657: Ajax and Menelaus each retreat from battle like a hungering lion

5. 13.389=16.482: Asius and Sarpedon both fall like oaks

6. Od. 4.335=Od. 17.126: Telemachus repeats the words of Menelaus including the simile of the mother doe

7. Od. 6.232=Od. 23.159: Odysseus steps from his bath in Ithaca and also in Phaeacia covered with grace like a valuable object of silver overlaid with gold.

And perhaps the best known example is 9.14 which is repeated word for word at 16.3:

. . . shedding tears like a fountain of black water which pours its dark stream down a steep rock.

One critic with strong unitarian leanings comments: "Perhaps the most beautiful and clearly significant repetition of a motif in the whole Iliad is the one of the 'dark-watered spring' which occurs at the beginning of both IX and XVI".[7] Zenodotus—with a more analytic outlook—athetizes the first appearance of the lines in Book 9 probably because they are copies. Clearly this discrepancy in treating this one repeated simile is closely related to each critic's understanding of the poem's composition.

Excision of one of the pair of similes is always a possibility;[8] there are, however, two other theories which might explain the phenomenon of the repeated similes. One theory would explain the second simile as a conscious reminiscence of the first. Another theory maintains that each pair may be a simile unit held in the mind which happened to be used twice.[9]

I have cited above one critic who feels that the simile of the dark-watered fountain at the beginning of Book 16 is a reminiscence of the same simile in Book 9. Numerous parallels between the two books suggest that his interpretation of the repeated simile is not unreasonable. The situation of the Greeks at the end of Book 15 is again desperate—even more desperate than in Book 9. Achilles' emotions have deepened. Now there will be another appeal to Achilles, but this time a more effective kind of appeal. Achilles in his own words will refer to the hollow offer made by Agamemnon in Book 9, but in Book 16 he will yield on one point by sending Patroclus out to aid the Greeks. There is every reason to think that Homer wanted his audience to remember the parallel scene and appeal in Book 9 as they heard the plea of Patroclus. The later simile which echoes the earlier, may suggest to the audience that a scene is coming which will have important parallels to earlier scenes, as well as significant differences. In the same way it has been suggested that the simile of Odysseus stepping from the bath in Ithaca at Od. 23.159 is meant to recall the earlier simile when he came from the bath in Phaeacia at Od. 6.232. In Phaeacia he was beginning his return to civilized life; in Ithaca he had regained his family, his home, and his throne.[10] There may even be good cause to remember the earlier simile of Paris racing joyfully to battle like a stallion at the point when Hector is cured and races to battle with the identical description (6.506=15.263). The acts and the abilities of these two men on behalf of Troy are clearly contrasted throughout the Iliad. [11] In these three sets of repeated longer similes there may be reason to assert that the poet has repeated the second simile to remind the audience of the first singing of the simile.

And yet no critic has claimed that the second simile of the hungering lion, which accompanies the retreat of Menelaus, is meant to recall the earlier retreat of Ajax (17.657 = 11.548). These two similes are about the same distance apart in the narrative as the two similes of the fountain of black water. Why is one a clear reminiscence while the other is not? The same question could be asked of the similes at 5.860 and 14.148: Poseidon shouts like nine or ten thousand warriors to encourage the Greeks in Book 14; Ares shouts in the same way when he is wounded at the end of Book 5. Even though Idomeneus kills Asius who falls like an oak, there are no critics who have seen a reminiscence when Sarpedon falls in exactly the same way under the attack of Patroclus (13.389= 16.482). Brave men stand around Diomedes like lions or boars; in the same words the single battle of Ajax and Hector is described. Where is the conscious reminiscence here (5.782 = 7.256)?

The final repeated simile occurs at Od. 4.335 and Od. 17.126 in a speech which is repeated word for word. The repetition is quite extensive, and it seems that the simile is merely a part of the whole repeated speech. Since too many messengers repeat messages word for word to call this a subtle reminiscence, it is obviously a simple report of an earlier speech, simile and all. This pair of similes can safely be disregarded in a discussion which focuses on similes repeated for no reason other than to echo a previous passage.

However in the case of the other seven long repeated similes there are three sets of parallel scenes where the narrative itself suggests that Homer is evoking recollection of a previous passage. In each of these sections there is a repeated simile, but even without the simile these passages might be called consciously reminiscent, or they would at least invite comparison because of the parallel to a previous situation. Since in the remaining four sets there is no parallel in the narrative, either there must be further evidence found to insist that those particular three similes are consciously repeated, or else there is need to look for other interpretations which will explain all seven sets of similes consistently.

Perhaps the most instructive of the repeated similes is 11.548= 17.657 where the simile is almost repeated, but the introductory two lines are varied:

And even as a tawny lion is driven from the cattle yard by dogs and country folk . . . (II.548-9)

He went his way as a lion from the cattle yard where he has tired himself harassing dogs and men . . . (17.657-8)

who do not allow him to seize the fattest of the herd, watching through the night, but lusting for flesh he drives on, yet accomplishes nothing. Many spears fly against him from brave hands, and burning torches which he flees even though he is eager. At dawn he goes away disappointed. (11.550-555 and 17.659-664)

The picture of the lion in the last six lines of both similes is the same word for word. He is a hungering beast who is stopped from snatching food; he waits the whole night through and then goes away still hungry. What is different in the two similes is the initial situation. In the simile from Book 11 the lion has been attacking the cattle pen all night and with the coming of dawn is finally driven away. In the simile in Book 17 the lion has exhausted himself by making attempts throughout the night and departs because the men have outlasted him. The first lion has been momentarily fought off, departs still bold and vigorous, and most probably will return to continue harassing the shepherds. The second lion has had no more success and departs exhausted because the farmers have so stoutly defended their holdings. The first lion must be driven away even with the arrival of dawn; the second lion admits defeat. The major difference in phrasing at the beginning of each simile is the verb and the change of the lion from object in the first simile to subject in the second. The rest of the cast of characters in this small story remains the same, men and dogs. In Book 11, where the men and dogs pursue the lion, the verb is ἐσσεύοντο; in Book 17 when the lion grows tired of provoking the men and dogs, the verb is κάμῃσι which makes these two lions seem to be different animals even though most of the description is the same.

The change in the opening of the similes is dictated by the situation in the narrative. In Book 11 Ajax has been successful even though many of the Greek leaders have been wounded and have had to be taken back to camp. Ajax is still fighting with all the strength he can muster, but there is a stronger force working against him. The text states that Zeus turned Ajax to flight; in spite of this pressure upon him Ajax gave way slowly and stubbornly (544). He gave way like the lion who retreats unwillingly and is fought off with difficulty. In Book 17, however, Ajax asks Menelaus to withdraw to find Antilochus. Since Menelaus is worried lest the body of Patroclus be taken while he is gone, he is careful to give special urging to Meriones and to the two Ajaxes. Then he withdraws reluctantly like the lion who gives away after he has been over- powered and leaves without the prize he hungered for.

It is clear that Homer has endeavored to make each lion suit the narrative in which he appears. The simile from Book 11 would not fit in Book 17 because the first two lines do not parallel the basic outline of the situation there, and the same is true of placing the simile from Book 17 into Book 11. And yet only two out of eight lines were altered to suit the particular passage, while the other six lines were repeated word for word and were very specifically not adapted to their location.

The fact that the same simile can be used with so little change in two quite different scenes is significant. The poet seems to have had a block of lines about the hungering lion independent of any particular context. Similarly the basic arming scene and the basic scene of preparation of a meal were carried in the poet's mind without regard to a specific narrative context. All of these scenes could be altered to suit the needs of the immediate narrative, as could any of the other sets of repeated similes, long or short. In the case of the short similes there may have been some metrical necessity which dictated their use, but they were as much units held in the poet's mind as were the long similes which are repeated.[12]

Such a conclusion does not imply that the similes in the Homeric text are direct descendants from Mycenaean ancestors or survivals from a far distant era. G. P. Shipp has listed the features of the similes which are linguistically late and has, thereby, shown that the simile as it appears in the preserved text is relatively late in composition.[13] Webster states that some similes, like those of lions or boars, are quite old, and Shipp concurs that at the very least the short comparisons are the older form from which the more elaborate simile evolved.[14] The comparison as a mode of expression, the limited number of simile families, and the repeated connection between one specific narrative feature and the same simile subject—all these could be very ancient without affecting the particular formulation of the simile as it exists in the Homeric text. J. B. Hainsworth and A. Hoekstra are convinced that the traditional diction underwent perceptible change and that the survivals from earlier centuries would quite naturally disappear or be replaced by more contemporary phrasing; Hoekstra adds that the oral language changed at a greater rate at the very end of the tradition than it had for the preceding centuries.[15] Both scholars can maintain such a view about the oral diction without insisting that the old stories and the archaeological survivals would necessarily be required to disappear at the same time. The linguistic formulation of a fact or an idea does not affect the ancientness of that fact or idea. I suspect that the lion comparison as a form of expression is quite old and that there were extended lion similes in Greek hexameter verse long before Homer's composition of the Iliad and the Odyssey. The extended simile as a means of storytelling is so frequent in occurrence, so patterned in usage, and so deeply embedded in the fabric of the poems that it is almost impossible to think of it as the discovery of any one man. The simile as a means of expression is at least as old as the Gilgamish epic and other ancient Near Eastern texts. In these examples the simile is usually of the short, embryonic type. Only Homer regularly uses the extended simile. In addition, the phrasing of the lion simile and of most of the other similes seems relatively recent, perhaps within one hundred years of the composition of the Iliad and the Odyssey. Homer, as a young poet, might have heard the bard who formulated the simile of the dark-watered fountain and might have carried it in his mind. Then this simile, although relatively late in its phrasing, would still be one of a large collection of anonymous similes which could be called traditional because of the long history of the simile as a form of expression. Perhaps Homer even composed the simile of the dark-watered fountain himself in his youth, remembered it, and used it several times in his recitations. In this case it would also be part of a large collection of independent, though no longer anonymous, similes. The method of expression would still be traditional in that young Homer built his simile in imitation of a familiar form, but the particular simile would show the influence of recent linguistic developments because, in fact, it was composed by the poet himself.

It should be noted that Shipp in his study of the language of the similes is seeking late, but not necessarily post-Homeric, forms; he is not trying to analyze the amalgam of linguistic strata which are present in the language of any one simile.[16] His method is proper for his purpose, since if similes uniformly contain a large number of late forms, then it is reasonable to assume that most of them were composed in their particular formulation late in the development of the oral tradition. It would, however, be a distortion of Shipp's conclusions to state that all similes contain only late forms; similes are composed of words borrowed from diverse ages and dialects. For example, in the simile of the hungering lion Shipp notes only three linguistic particularities: ἐγρήσσοντες, ἐρατίζων and ἀγροιῶται. The remaining words are either earlier words or do not bear a linguistic imprint which would permit any precise dating. In addition, the line 11.549=15.272 leads an independent enough existence in the poet's repertoire that it can be transferred from one context to another in spite of the fact that one of these linguistically late features is included in this line. It is, thus, a line that is marked as late but still is carried as an improvisational unit in the poet's mind.

The same amalgam of old and new can be found in any of the repeated similes. Consistency in analyzing components of oral poetry demands that the repeated similes be treated as units which were as traditional and as autonomous, but also as adaptable, as the basic arming and banquet scenes.[17]

Such a theory about the repeated similes has important implications for the composition of passages containing such similes, and perhaps for the passages surrounding other similes as well. Any critical comment on the organic unity of simile and narrative in these passages is based upon the happy matching of two entities which probably were separated in the traditional heritage of the poet. It would seem more likely for a simile to have some rough edges and not to fit too easily into its setting. The poet did not in a mood of detached meditation create a unity of simile and narrative in which each component complemented the other and from which one element could not be removed without destroying the whole.[18] Rather, as he sang, he could fit the simile, as a unit unto itself, into a passage of coherent narrative in the hope that the two elements would blend; but there was no guarantee.[19] Chances were against that type of perfect match between simile and narrative which has been so well illustrated by V. Pöschl in regard to the similes of Vergil.[20]

The poet did not, however, abdicate his proper concern with the artistic effect of the whole passage. It is evident how well the poet has formed his material to fit the narrative in the two repeated lion similes. As a second example, the excellence of the galloping horse as a comparison to the proudly running Paris at the end of Book 6 has been noted by diverse critics; as a corollary this same simile at 15.263 is not acknowledged to be as well suited to its surrounding passage, though it is by no means inapt.[21] In recognizing the standardized quality of similes there is no slight intended to the poetic effectiveness with which the poet employed his traditional material. The bricks of a well-built house wall are as homely out of context as those from a rough foundation; it is the placement of each brick in proper relation to those around it which creates a well-laid wall.

These comments on the repeated similes need not apply to all similes. Speculations on oral composition would be much easier if it could be assumed that Homer always created in a uniform way, but there is no binding constraint which forced the poet either to choose a simile from his previous experience or to formulate each simile anew. Because Homer customarily used repeated lines and patterns when a warrior armed or ate or participated in many of the usual activities of warriors, it may be reasonable to assume that there are more independent simile units in the text than existing evidence will prove.[22] If other similes were drawn from a pre-existing collection within the poet's mind, then there is support for the harsh criticism of Gilbert Murray:

Every simile is fine, vivid, and lifelike; but a good many of them are not apposite to the case for which they are used, and all have the same ready-made air.[23]

Many different critics have found difficulties in joining particular similes to the narrative. The conclusions of this study of repeated similes imply that ill-matched similes or, in fact, misfits could be at times expected, though they probably would not be regarded as misfits by the poet who, whenever he drew upon a store of traditional simile subjects and scenes, was trying to achieve only a basic match to his narrative. Since he gave little attention to pairing each detail of such a simile to some fact in the surrounding story, it is impressive that he so often achieved an effective balance in tone and in individual details.

These conclusions are supported by the repeated simile of the hungering lion. In Book 11 Ajax does depart from men who are throwing spears at him, but there is no particular prize for which he has been striving nor have his opponents been fighting him so long that they could be described as watching their treasure the whole night through. In Book 17 Menelaus does depart from a prize which is specific and the fight has been going on over this one prize long enough that the mention of men who have been guarding throughout the night has point. Menelaus, however, does not leave immediately as the lion does, but he remains for a four line speech to the Ajaxes and Meriones before he withdraws. Each simile contains some details which do not suit the location in which it occurs. But no critic has said that the simile itself is unforceful or lacks color. In both cases a warrior withdraws from battle reluctantly; as Homer thought over his collection of similes, the image of the hungering lion came to mind as a subject well suited to the narrative situation. He sang the basic unit, much as he had sung arming and eating scenes. The parallels were obvious and appropriate, even though some details did not match the surrounding scene.[24]

Such a theory concerning repeated similes implies that there was little reminiscence by these similes. The repeated simile was merely another repeated unit. Just as there is no particular reminiscence—or even recollection—involved when Odysseus has three meals in one night, so also in repeating simile units there is no reminiscence. The poet had chosen the same lines twice in similar situations. In fact, each set of repeated similes does occur in contexts which are enough alike to suggest the same description.

The poet who composed in this way is familiar from other studies of oral poetry. He was a poet who composed in terms of units: half-lines, whole lines, and blocks of lines, a store of ready-made phrases and passages from which he could always draw. He tried to adapt his units of composition when he could, though his prime goal was to keep the story moving forward. Sometimes he came to contexts where he customarily sang a simile. Seven times in the Iliad and in the Odyssey he chose the same simile unit for a parallel context; though on one of these occasions he had to adapt the opening a little, essentially it remained the same simile. While it is impossible to identify which similes were taken with little or no alteration from the pool of traditional oral units, the examination of the repeated similes demonstrates that the poet did draw upon such a source at the very least seven times.[25] It is of the utmost importance to realize that there is evidence for the existence of this collection of similes because such a supply enabled the poet to sing a simile as easily as he sang any other type scene.

II. Methods of Extending the Simile

The second major question in analyzing the oral nature of the similes concerns the methods of extending the simile. It is evident that there are common features in long and short similes.[26] Many of the short similes seem to be independent formulaic units which fill a standard metrical space in the line. The simile which is constructed from a single unit of such a nature seems more a building block whose internal components are fixed because of the demands of the hexameter line than an individual creation grafted neatly into that particular spot in the narrative. It is possible to demonstrate, in addition, that the majority of longer similes were composed by extending the basic simile unit through the addition of separate lines and half-lines which are not organically related to each other or to the simile as a whole, the extended simile being as much a product of oral composition as the narrative.

Because the poet thought in terms of the basic simile subject, it is reasonable to assume that the short simile was the essential simile form. There was always a part-line simile available from many of the traditional simile families which would fit easily into the metrical cola of the line.[27] A brief summary of the possibilities for introducing a short lion simile within the traditional caesurae of the hexameter line will illustrate the wide flexibility possessed by the poet:

Some of these basic units appear alone, but each is extended into a longer simile. It is instructive to see the many different ways in which the phrase "like a lion" or "like two lions" can be adapted to fit into a line; in effect, with a little variation in surrounding words the poet can sing the simile "like a lion" in any of the hexameter line's four cola.[28] The words which are added or subtracted in each individual occurrence are merely methods of adapting the basic formula to suit various metrical configurations.

Whenever the poet felt that the shorter simile was inadequate for the effect he desired, he could extend it. An example of this type of extension is seen in a comparison of the following passages:

τοὺς ἐξῆγε θύραζε τεθηπότας ἠΰτε νεβρούς, δῆσε δ ὀπίσσω χεῖρας ἐϋτμήτοισιν ἱμᾶσι, These he led out of the water bewildered like fawns and he bound their hands behind them with well-cut thongs . . . (21.29-30)

Ὣς οἳ μὲν κατὰ ἄστυ πεφυζότες ἠΰτε νεβροὶ ἱδρῶ ἀπεψύχοντο πίον τ ἀκέοντό τε δίψαν Throughout the town these men, who had fled like fawns, dried off their sweat and drank and quenched their thirst. . . (22.1-2)

Οὕς τινας αὖ μεθιέντας ἴδοι στυγεροῦ πολέμοιο, τοὺς μάλα νεικείεσκε χολωτοῖσιν ἐπέεσσιν·  Ἀργεῖοι ἰόμωροι ἐλεγχέες οὔ νυ σέβεσθε; τίφθ οὕτως ἔστητε τεθηπότες ἠΰτε νεβροί, αἵ τ ἐπεὶ οὖν ἔκαμον πολέος πεδίοιο θέουσαι ἑστᾶσ, οὐδ ἄρα τίς σφι μετὰ φρεσὶ γίγνεται ἀλκή· ὣς ὑμεῖς ἔστητε τεθηπότες οὐδὲ μάχεσθε. ἦ μένετε Τρῶας σχεδὸν ἐλθέμεν ἔνθά τε νῆες εἰρύατ εὔπρυμνοι πολιῆς ἐπὶ θινὶ θαλάσσης, ὄφρα ἴδητ αἴ κ ὔμμιν ὑπέρσχῃ χεῖρα Κρονίων; Any he might see holding back from the hateful fighting he would reproach with angry words: "You Argives, puny bowmen, disgraces, have you no shame? Why do you stand here bewildered like fawns, who when they have exhausted themselves racing over a great plain, stand still and there is no strength left in their hearts? In such a way you stand there bewildered and do not fight. Are you waiting for the Trojans to come close up to the shore of the grey sea, where the well-built ships lie protected, so that you may see if Zeus will hold his hand over you?" (4.240-249)

In each case the poet is singing about men who are afraid, and there is only one simile subject which is used in such scenes, deer.[29] In all three passages the poet has chosen a simile describing deer which fills out the line beginning at the Bucolic diaeresis. There is only one other simile of deer at 13.101 which does not use this position in the line or, in fact, the word νεβροί. In the similes from Books 21 and 4 the poet seems to have begun the formula at the third trochee with the addition of the word τεθηπότες/ας, but this construction is deceptive. The word τεθηπότες/ας with this precise metrical configuration occurs four times in the Iliad and the Odyssey. [30] In each case it falls exactly at this position in the line: according to Porter's analysis, between the B^1 caesura and the C^1 caesura occupying five morae. In addition Porter points out that a single word of this configuration at this point in the line occurs more often than any other series of syllables broken by various kinds of caesurae (Table IVA). O'Neill's study demonstrates that words of the type s-l-s-s occur more than ninety-five per cent of the time at this position in the line (Table 11). Thus both essays offer evidence that the word τεθηπότες/ας would tend to be placed in this position regardless of the phrase following the Bucolic diaeresis; in fact, the word τεθηπότες/ας is used in the third colon of the line independently of the deer simile in lines 4.246 and Od. 24. 392. The short simile ἠΰτε νεβροί/ούς seems a unit which is independent of the word τεθηπότες/ας, although certainly the two units can be combined whenever the poet wishes.

This analysis shows the technique of building lines in miniature: the poet strings together words and phrases standing independently in other passages to make a "new" scene. He does not compose as much in individual words as he does in formulaic units of language, often of standard length, most of which tend to fill the traditional cola of the line. One way of introducing the word νεβροί/ούς into a line was to wait until the last colon and then sing the phrase ήυτε νεβροί/ούς. Since this word began at the Bucolic diaeresis there were numerous words which could be placed before it like τεθηπότες/ας, or πεφυζότες (22.1) or many of the other words which occur in the third colon. But the choice of this word was a separate decision on the part of the composing poet; the irreducible formulaic element is the short simile which fills the fourth colon.

It is worth spending time on this example because it is in the smaller samples of the oral style that the evidence is the clearest, since when one turns to the longer phrases and whole lines, very often he finds that there are not enough parallels to separate formulaic blocks with any confidence. The greatest problem is the variation possible within any one formula. In the above passages the shift from τεθηπότες to τεθηπότας is easy to see. When two or three words are involved, each of which can shift its ending, the formula becomes harder to identify. When, in addition, the phrase is one which is not as firmly localized in the third colon as τεθηπότες/ας, then the difficulties in distinguishing exactly what part of the line is formulaic mount rapidly.[31] In treating the structure of the longer similes it is important to bear these problems in mind since because of them, conclusions cannot be as precise as desired, and often one must be content with identifying tendencies rather than establishing patterns. Nevertheless, there is enough evidence to arrive at a general understanding of the poet's method in constructing his similes.

The difficulties in defining structural units become immediately apparent in examining the extension of the basic deer simile at 4.244:

ὅς

I.

oἵ    τ/δ ἐπεὶ οὖν

—This phrase fills the line through

αἵ

Porter's A^1 caesura. It is a phrase that is paralleled ample times and seems to be an independent formulaic unit as, for example, 1.57, 3.4, 15.363, and others.

2. ἔκαμον—This verb occupies the second colon completing the line up to the B^2 caesura. There is no type of parallel use which would establish this as a formula since the greater tendency is for words of this configuration to end at position 5 than at position 7 in the Iliad, though not in the Odyssey, according to O'Neill's Table Seven.[32] Most probably there is not enough information to establish anything formulaic about the poet's choice of this word or its position. It seems to be present in the line independently of the words before and after it.

3. πολέος πεδίοιο θέουσαι—The phrase πολέος πεδίοιο extends one syllable further than Porter's C^2 caesura in ending at 9 1/2; however this is not unheard of in Porter's system, and the phrase does comply with his comments on the inner dynamics of the line by avoiding the caesura at 7 1/2.[33] Though there is a close parallel to the whole phrase at 23.521: πολέος πεδίοιο θέοντος·, this is the only parallel passage which groups the two units together, πολέος πεδίοιο is used three times in this metrical position in the Homeric poems, and once at position 12 (4.244, 23.475, 23.521; 5.597). Because it is associated with the participle θέουσαι/θέοντος only twice and because this participle occurs elsewhere at the end of the line preceded by other words, two separate units are probably involved.

4. ἑστᾶσ—This and other forms of the verb ιστημι occur frequently at the very beginning of the sentence. The verb in this form fills the line up to the A^2 caesura, one of the more common places in the line for a word which is a spondee according to Table Six in O'Neill's study. Following this word in its appearances in the Iliad there is a new beginning in the form of a relative clause or another independent clause though no formulaic usage is involved either preceding this word in the previous line or following it. It does fill one of the standard cola. There seems every indication, then, that this word is a unit in itself and is not tied to any traditional phraseology when used in this simile.

5. οὐδ ἄρα τίς σφι—This is one of those phrases which is hard to trace as being formulaic, οὐδ ἄρα is fixed, but the other two components can be varied in so many ways that it is difficult to cite exact parallels. The phrase does operate in accordance with the traditional divisions of the line by closing out the colon which ends at the B^2 caesura.

6. μετὰ φρεσὶ—This phrase fills in the line up to the C^1 caesura. It falls in this position countless times in both poems; for example, 9.434, 14-264, and 18.463. It is a small unit unto itself in that it seems to determine neither what goes before it nor what follows.

7. γίγνεται ἀλκή—This phrase occurs twice, here and at 15.490. Throughout the poems the word ἀλκή occurs almost always as the last word of the line, according to O'Neills Table Six, the favored position for words which are spondees. Many different sorts of words fall before ἀλκή in this position, γίγνεται is a dactyl and falls in this line where a dactyl is expected (cf. O'Neill's Table Eight). Since both words seem to lead a separate existence, each obeying its own laws, there appears to be no formula here.

This analysis of a somewhat disappointing passage demonstrates the problems inherent in studying the structure of the simile. First, it is quite difficult and often impossible to determine clearly what is a formulaic unit (one key word or idea determining the choice of other words), a metrical preference (metrical configuration influencing the placement of the word), or an individual choice (the poet's joining of two words which might well have been separated). αἵ τ ἐπεὶ οὖν is most probably a formulaic unit which could be repeated in this position by the poet almost without thinking. μετὰ φρεσὶ seems to fall in its place in the line because of metrical habit; or, stating the same phenomenon negatively, the phrase μετὰ φρεσὶ occurs often with many different kinds of words surrounding it, but it occurs at no other place in the line. πολέος πεδίοιο θέουσαι seems to be a combination which was made by the poet from groups of words which are identifiable from their usage in other passages as independent units; the joining of the two units is a choice by the poet which seems determined by no formulaic or traditional custom.

Second, it is significant that the simile seems to be as much a product of the oral tradition as any other part of the Homeric poems.[34] The words are by no means unusual since most have parallels in both narrative and simile sections of the poems and often have even been used in similar positions regardless of context. If it is accepted that O'Neill and Porter have successfully delineated the basic structure of the hexameter line, then it seems that the phrasing of this simile conforms very closely to the units which they have established on the basis of a narrative passage. The two studies demonstrate that the hexameter line tends to fall into four fairly standard cola in both oral and written verse; but only in oral verse would the words which fill these cola be repeated so formulaically. Nothing in the phrasing or construction of the individual lines of this simile suggests a composition other than oral.[35]

Finally, it seems that the study of the formulae which make up the individual line is probably less important than an understanding of the grammatical structure of the total simile, once it is granted that the similes are a product of oral composition.[36] The difficulties in defining the basic formulae in the similes are so great and the results so imprecise that it is impractical here to delve into the language of the similes beyond an admission that each phrase and individual line is deeply rooted in the language of oral composition.

The work of Porter and O'Neill defines the types of phrasing characteristic of dactylic verse and can be meaningfully applied to the limited sample of formulaic or repeated simile language which we possess. Parry's technique of formulaic analysis, however, requires more repetitions of precise wording in similar positions than the extant body of simile material can provide.

What can be determined about the formulaic quality of the simile's language has been established in another study and is borne out fully in the analysis of the deer simile.[37] It now remains to examine the broader grammatical structure of the lines which extend the part-line simile.

Twice the basic short simile ἠΰτε νεβρoί/ούς is sufficient for the poet's purpose, but on one occasion the poet chose to extend this basic simile. He began the extended line with a relative pronoun, the verb of which followed in the next line. To fill out the first line of extension he inserted a clause introduced by ἐπεί; in the second line he added a clause beginning with ουδέ. It is clear from the repeated adjective τεθηπότες/ας at 21.29 that the added relative clause and the οὐδέ clause are not vital to the meaning of the simile. As far as the meaning of the passage is concerned, the longer deer simile could be placed in Book 21 and no one would find the ideas unintelligible:

And when his hands had grown tired of killing, he chose twelve young men out of the river as expiation for the dead Patroclus, the son of Menoetius. These he led out of the water like bewildered fawns . . .

who, when they have exhausted themselves racing over a great plain, stand still and there is no strength left in their hearts. (21.26-29 + 4.244-45)

The poet does not become involved in complicated subordination within a simile; the clauses are added one by one so that the poet could stop at the end of any one clause without vitally affecting the meaning.

It seems that the poet decided to extend the simile by considering the needs of each individual context. In Book 4 the poet reports an exasperated speech of Agamemnon in which the general states again and again that the Argives holding back from battle are cowards: "Have you no shame? Why are you standing there? You are not fighting. Are you waiting to see if some god will protect you?" In such a series of questions the simile illustrates graphically the feelings of cowardice which are being emphasized in the direct questions with a switch to the feminine gender in line 244 which is a part of the insult that would not be conveyed by the simple short simile. The extending lines in this simile make the taunts of the commander all the more biting. When such a point is, however, relatively minor in terms of the central idea of narrative or does not need extra emphasis, as in books 21 and 22, then the poet is content with a short simile. In both passages with short deer similes the simile aids the poet in expressing the psychological state of the men, but there is no need for the poet to stress these scenes. The men led away to be sacrificed to Patroclus are sufficiently insignificant beings in the scope of the whole poem that they probably do not merit a lengthy simile. At 22.1 there is a general view of the two armies before the narrative turns to the two protagonists, Hector and Achilles. This would be the wrong place to overemphasize the two armies which will immediately fall into the background.

All the oral features of the deer simile—the choice of words, the formulaic phrasing, the adherence to the dynamics of the hexameter line, and the additive nature of the individual extending members—can be paralleled in various passages within the narrative. Thus this simile is certainly a product of oral composition. One swallow has yet to make a summer, and this single simile is inadequate as a foundation for sweeping conclusions concerning the composition of all similes. However, the close analysis of this one simile makes evident the terms of broader investigation. To present an analysis of all similes in such detail is impossible; more profitable is an examination of various types of similes illustrating in special ways the general application of the points which I have made about this one simile.

Of primary interest again are the repeated similes, which seem to be units that could be used at will. They were not built clause on clause as the poet sang, but were chosen as a block with some change allowed within the simile. Even though they were carried in the mind as autonomous units by the poet of the Iliad and the Odyssey, they still bear unmistakable marks of their oral origin. The simile of the hungering lion at 11.548 (which almost equals 17.657) is again a useful example because of the variation in the initial lines:

ὡς δ αἴθωνα λέοντα βοῶν ἀπὸ μεσσαύλοιο ἐσσεύαντο κύνες τε καὶ ἀνέρες ἀγροιῶται, οἵ τέ μιν οὐκ εἰῶσι βοῶν ἐκ πῖαρ ἑλέσθαι πάννυχοι ἐγρήσσοντες· ὃ δὲ κρειῶν ἐρατίζων ἰθύει, ἀλλ οὔ τι πρήσσει· θαμέες γὰρ ἄκοντες ἀντίον ἀΐσσουσι θρασειάων ἀπὸ χειρῶν καιόμεναί τε δεταί, τάς τε τρεῖ ἐσσύμενός περ· ἠῶθεν δ ἀπὸ νόσφιν ἔβη τετιηότι θυμῷ· ὣς Αἴας τότ ἀπὸ Τρώων τετιημένος ἦτορ (11.548-556)

βῆ δ ἰέναι ὥς τίς τε λέων ἀπὸ μεσσαύλοιο, ὅς τ ἐπεὶ ἄρ κε κάμῃσι κύνας τ ἄνδρας τ ἐρεθίζων, οἵ τέ μιν οὐκ εἰῶσι βοῶν ἐκ πῖαρ ἑλέσθαι . . . (17.657-659)

Here is an analysis of these lines broken down into grammatical units:

11.548—Object. Prepositional phrase.

17.657—Subject. Prepositional phrase

11.549—Verb. Subject

17.658—Relative. Subordinate clause introduced by ἐπεὶ. Participial phrase

11.550 (17.659)—

Relative clause.

11.551 (17.660)—

Participle. Clause introduced by δέ. Participle.

11.552 (17.661)—

Verb of δέ clause. Clause introduced by ἀλλά. Clause introduced by γάρ.

11.553 (17.662)—

Verb of γάρ clause. Prepositional phrase.

11.554 (17.663)—

Subject added to above γάρ clause. Relative clause. Participle.

11.555 (17.664)—

Clause introduced by δέ.

There are a number of important features to note in the construction of this simile. First, it is composed in terms of the individual line. There are only two places where the repeated portion of the simile must run over into the next line, 551 and 552, and in these two lines the enjambment is necessary because a clause has been begun which lacks a verb. That the simile could be stopped at the end of the other lines and joined to the narrative by a line like 556 is one indication of the looseness of structure.

Closely related is the method by which the poet extends the simile. It is not in form a series of lines each of which ends with a period. There is enjambment, some necessary and some not. The basic tools of unperiodic enjambment are the free verbal idea (dependent clause, participal phrase, or genitive absolute), the adjectival idea, the adverbial idea, and the coordinate clause.[38] These types of extension avoid complicated subordination. There are numerous subordinating conjunctions in the epic language, but they are only infrequently used to build a more complex sentence. The only grammatically complex connection in the lion simile is contained in the word γάρ which introduces a clause giving the reason for the failure of the lion.[39]

In effect, this simile is built from part-line units, each bound by strong thematic affinity but by weak grammatical ties to the preceding unit. The pressures of adhering to the hexameter line while creating sentences longer than the single line compel the oral poet to rely on a proven traditional language. The method of composing in this language, namely stringing small units together to express full thoughts, is inherently bound to an intransigence in regard to subordination. These two qualities of Homeric verse, the adherence to the traditional units of diction and the dominance of the hexameter line, reinforce each other, and both are natural enemies of complexity in grammatical structure.[40]

A further indication of the lack of organic unity within each simile is evident at line 17.658. There the poet introduces a single subordinate clause with two introductory subordinating words. Here is Mr. Leaf's comment:

The Epic poet, always intolerant of long subordinate clauses, seems to use his two relatives at the beginning to indicate the general drift of his sentence and then does not attempt to follow out the details. Here ὅς is the necessary copula introducing the working out of the simile, and ἐπεὶ proclaims that the clause headed by it is preliminary and does not contain the real comparison. Having thus announced its subordinate character, the clause can proceed in its . . . development as though it has begun . . . without any parade of relatives.

Leaf and Chantraine point to parallel confusion at 8.229 ff., 18.55 f. and 24.42 f.[41] Such examples demonstrate how insignificant subordinating words are to the oral poet. He is, in fact, working with a series of language units, each of which adds to the length of the simile, and thereby, further defines the tone of the small story which he is telling. The individual particulars of the scene are sung for the most part as though they were an unconnected series of incidents, and it is up to the listener to organize these items into a coherent, organic image.

Paratactic structure is apparent in all the repeated similes. Since these similes had been used often enough to stick in the poet's mind, it might be expected that they would show signs of attempts to organize and polish their somewhat loose structural form. However, these similes, which belong to some of the most common simile families, tend to retain their loose, additive structure in spite of continued usage.

The majority of similes in the Homeric corpus are similar in their structure to the deer and lion similes which have just been discussed. Instead of multiplying examples of the same type, it is more profitable to examine those similes which are for two reasons exceptional: either they demonstrate examples of the additive technique which are different from the normal type of extension as seen above, or they are rare passages where the rules of Greek grammar are strained or broken because of the paratactic method of composition. These two topics will be discussed together because both phenomena can often be well illustrated on the basis of a single simile. These few similes, which show the unusual results or the extreme consequences of oral composition, offer sound evidence of the poet's willing acceptanceof the advantages, but also of the dangers, of additive construction.

There is one further technique of extending the simile which is quite common, the list which can consist of individual physical objects or several clauses. The clearest example is 14.394:

οὔτε θαλάσσης κῦμα τόσον βοάᾳ ποτὶ χέρσον ποντόθεν ὀρνύμενον πνοιῇ Βορέω ἀλεγεινῇ· οὔτε πυρὸς τόσσός γε ποτὶ βρόμος αἰθομένοιο οὔρεος ἐν βήσσῃς, ὅτε τ ὤρετο καιέμεν ὕλην· οὔτ ἄνεμος τόσσόν γε περὶ δρυσὶν ὑψικόμοισι ἠπύει, ὅς τε μάλιστα μέγα βρέμεται χαλεπαίνων, ὅσση ἄρα Τρώων καὶ Ἀχαιῶν ἔπλετο φωνὴ … The two sides came together with a great war cry. Not so loud does the sea wave echo on the shore as it is driven from the open sea by the fierce blasts of the north wind, nor so loud is the roaring of a burning fire in the ravines of a mountain when it rises to burn the forest, nor so loudly does the wind shriek through the tall oaks when it roars angrily, not so loud as the cries of the Trojans and Achaeans . . .

This long simile-like section is really three fairly short similes, each complete in itself. Each individual simile is composed in an additive style: the first extended by a participial phrase; the second by a prepositional phrase and an additional clause; and the third, by a verb carried over from the preceding line which is then followed by a relative clause. It is clear that the poet could have stopped at the end of each of these similes, sung a connecting line (e.g., 400), and continued on with the narrative. Most probably the series of similes is intended to emphasize the "mighty din" with which the armies ran together and the "terrible shouts" that accompany their fighting (393 and 401); a single simile was not considered sufficient. A poet who was writing would have elaborated upon the basic subject in one long simile, but an oral poet, who thought in terms of added units, would feel it natural to extend his simile by the addition of clauses of any kind as long as they reinforced the main theme of his narrative—in this case, as long as they continued the idea of the horrendous noise of battle. Wind and fire are two traditional subjects for expressing the noise of groups, and rather than choosing either one of these two images to develop, the poet decided that he would use both.[42] In fact, he used one of them twice.

There are also numerous examples of similes extended by listing individual objects which offer an alternative. For example:

ὥς τε λέων ἐχάρη μεγάλῳ ἐπὶ σώματι κύρσας εὑρὼν ἢ ἔλαφον κεραὸν ἢ ἄγριον αἶγα πεινάων·[43] he rejoiced as does a lion coming upon a large carcass, finding either a horned stag or a wild goat in his hunger . . . (3.23-25)

ἳ δ ὥς τ ἢ ἔλαφον κεραὸν ἢ ἄγριον αἶγα ἐσσεύαντο κύνες τε καὶ ἀνέρες ἀγροιῶται· just as dogs and country men have chased either a horned stag or a wild goat . . . (15.271-72)

In each case a direct object is needed; the poet extends his simile by giving his listeners a choice that interestingly does not seem especially significant since the narrative situation does not specifically require one of these two alternatives nor does the further development of either simile. The repetition of the phrase in the later simile renders the substance of the choice all the more questionable. Most probably this is a metrically suitable pair of animals to be used as prey in a hunting scene. The poet is not primarily concerned about the true representation of nature but wants to build his line by making his simile longer since the simile becomes, thereby, more noticeable and more effective. The list—whether in whole similes or clauses or in smaller part-line items—is the archetypal unsubordinated, autonomous, paratactic unit. Further examples may be found at 2.459, 10.5,[44] 10.360, 13.389=16.482, 15.605, 15.690, 16.589, 17.547, 17.742, 22.134, 22.308, and Od. 11.413.

The simile at 16.384 illustrates the use of parataxis in the development of a long simile. This simile is extended for nine lines and could be stopped at the end of any of eight of these lines since only the second line runs over into the third for its subject. The method of extension involves prepositional phrases, relative clauses, and independent clauses introduced by δέ. What is most notable in this simile is the looseness in the development of the thought as the narrative within the simile moves further and further from the initial subject. It seems that the poet could extend his simile line by line adhering to a miniature story or scene provided that the simile was short enough; but when he was called upon to extend the simile beyond a few lines, the paratactic structure began to dominate and the unconnected nature of the poet's thinking became more and more evident. In the first four lines of this long simile there is subordination: the earth is hard pressed by a whirlwind when Zeus sends rain when he is angered at men. The subordination is not as complete as it would be in a written style, but the two "when's" do bind the three clauses together as being simultaneous. From this point on the subordination becomes looser. He is angered at men who give crooked judgments—not because they give crooked judgments. Line 389 reads: "and the rivers of these are filled with rushing floods." "The rivers of these" is an odd phrase in itself; however in the sentence it is so abrupt that there is some question about its antecedent. Leaf states:

τῶν must mean 'the rivers of these men,' a strange expression, but less harsh than the alternative which regards τῶν as referring in a collective sense to ὕδωρ above, 'these floods.'

Leaf entertains the possibility of an interpolator; in view of the demands of oral composition it is more likely that this phrase has its antecedent in the general subject of the previous lines, the men. The poet added a line in a perfectly traditional and admittedly paratactic way: " τῶν δέ τε." He knew what connection he wanted his audience to draw, and he, therefore, extended the simile one more line using the type of demonstrative article which he had often used before. Such a style may bother those who read the text searching for the tightness of a literary style, but to an oral poet this technique is sanctioned by centuries of use.[45]

The rest of the clauses in this simile are added loosely with little attempt at subordination. There is one participle, "ῥέουσαι", which requires a subject from the preceding clause, but this is a very minimal connection. With the exception of this one participle each clause in the second half of this simile stands by itself, not depending on any reference to surrounding clauses for understanding. In the course of the simile there is a development from some slight subordination to a total abandonment of the attempt.

A similar dissipating of connectives is evident at 12.278; snowflakes fall when Zeus decides to send snow to the earth. The remainder of the simile is a list of places on which the snow falls and one where it does not. The last five lines are joined by "καίs" with a slight connection in the final line.[46] Further examples are 20.164 and Od. 19.109.

At 3.2 there is an adaptation of the paratactic style:

Τρῶες μὲν κλαγγῇ τ ἐνοπῇ τ ἴσαν ὄρνιθες ὣς ἠΰτε περ κλαγγὴ γεράνων πέλει οὐρανόθι πρό· αἵ τ ἐπεὶ οὖν χειμῶνα φύγον καὶ ἀθέσφατον ὄμβρον The Trojans came on with shouting and crying like birds, just as when the cries of cranes rise up to the heavens when they fly before the winter . . .

The poet first chooses, as a short simile to fill out the line from the Bucolic diaeresis, a phrase which is repeated in the accusative case one other time at 2.764 in the same position. There it is a short simile while here the simile is extended but not by adding another clause within the simile structure. Rather the simile is begun again. In form this passage contains two similes repeated one after the other, both on the subject of birds either of which could be removed and leave the sense of the lines intact. However the poet wanted a long simile in this place, and since neither grammatical subordination nor verbal economy are dominant concerns, the poet chose from among the available phrases and then strung these phrases together to make a long simile. In an oral presentation the audience probably did not listen closely enough to be bothered by the double introduction; they would be more impressed by the length of the total simile on the birds. The proper punctuation at the beginning of this simile in a written style would probably be a dash. In an oral style, however, the simile can be built from additive units which are not only loosely connected but in this case, even repetitive.[47] A further example occurs at 11.546 and 548.

Related to the simile which is double in form is the simile which is single in form but double in content. Homer or a later interpolator has been accused of conflating two similes at 16.259 in the simile of the wasps who have been irritated by children and who may attack a traveller, since there seems little connection between the children and the traveller.[48] In the simile itself the grammatical connection between the two sections is slight;[49] at line 263 there is a new clause joined to the previous line by a δέ. Such connections are common, but this one happens to be especially noticeable because two diverse times and sets of characters are combined in the simile.[50] Admittedly there is nothing inconsistent about the description. When this simile is judged in terms of a written style, it seems chaotic; though in comparison with other similes, it is not unusual in terms of structure or organization of material.

Who then imposes unity on the scattered elements of the simile? The answer is the audience. The poet selects a subject which has certain objects customarily joined to it, and then sings about several of these objects in themselves, seldom joining the various particulars together into an orderly picture. Many of the similes do describe occurrences and sights which are eternally familiar and are, therefore, a common experience shared by both poet and audience. This common experience provides a natural ordering of the individual items or events of the simile into a sensible relationship; but that ordering is not accomplished by the grammar of the poet, but rather by the recollected experience of the members of the audience.[51]

There is no internal demand decreeing the development—either in direction or in length—of the individual simile. The simile of the wasps contains an example of a participial phrase which extends the simile a half-line but merely repeats information from the preceding line:

αὐτίκα δὲ σφήκεσσιν ἐοικότες ἐξεχέοντο εἰνοδίοις, οὓς παῖδες ἐριδμαίνωσιν ἔθοντες αἰεὶ κερτομέοντες ὁδῷ ἔπι οἰκί ἔχοντας … immediately they poured forth like wasps which live by the side of the road which children are in the habit of angering, always teasing them as they live by the side of the road . . . (16.259-261)

Basic economy would dictate the omission of either the adjective εἰνοδίοις or the phrase at the end of 261; but economy is not the main concern of the oral poet.[52] He can introduce any kind of line or any kind of information which he feels is suitable to the tone he is trying to evoke. Thus call a line irrelevant or inconsistent is impossible, provided that the line in question is minimally suitable to the poet's imagined picture. The loose structure of the simile both in individual lines and in blocks of lines prods the audience into structuring the story by ordering, subordinating, and, in this case, conflating the elements of the simile scene while the poet keeps his focus moving from item to item.[53] This sharing of the responsibility for communication is not unique to the simile since all paratactic structures make this demand on their audiences.[54]

The pressures of oral composition have even exacted their toll on the most basic rules of grammar. At 8.306 there is a clause with no verb:

μήκων δ ὡς ἑτέρωσε κάρη βάλεν, ἥ τ ἐνὶ κήπῳ καρπῷ βριθομένη νοτίῃσί τε εἰαρινῇσιν, ὣς ἑτέρωσ ἤμυσε κάρη πήληκι βαρυνθέν And he bowed his head to one side like a poppy which in a garden weighted down with fruit and spring rain; thus he bowed to one side . . .

It is easy to borrow a verb for the relative clause from the preceding clause or merely to insert the verb εστί.[55] However there are enough parallels to the relative clause which begins at the Bucolic diaeresis and which is followed by the verb at the beginning of the next line that there is an applicable model for the structure of this simile; for example:

θηρὸς ἀκούσαντες κρατερόφρονος, ὅς τε καθ ὕλην ἔρχηται δι ὄρεσφι· (10.184-5)

ὅσσον δὲ τροχοῦ ἵππος ἀφίσταται, ὅς ῥα ἄνακτα ἕλκῃσιν πεδίοιο . . . (23.517-8)

Line 8.307, however, does not begin with a verb but is continued by a participle, which is also a traditional way of adding a line. Considering the method of composition, grammatical consistency cannot always be foremost in the poet's mind, and in fact, he does very well to be as grammatically correct as he is. The technique of building with small units—new clauses, participles, appositional adjectives and nouns, and relative clauses—helps the poet to move in such small units that there is limited opportunity to forget vital elements. Yet in this simile the poet began with one type of clause which was a customary way of ending a line and then continued with another type of clause which was equally familiar at the beginning of a line. He simply was thinking in the narrow terms of the individual members of his simile and not in terms of the grammar or even the sense of the passage.[56] In a written style this simile could not be punctuated, though in an oral style it is perfectly understandable.[57] This simile is no exception since long similes with no verb are also found at 16.406 and Od. 11.413.

Finally, it should be noted that there is a tighter structure in many of the similes of the Odyssey than in those of the Iliad where often the verb will be two lines away from its subject. A recent study has noted that the most integrated set of lines in a simile occurs at Od. 4.335 (which is repeated at Od. 17.126).[58] Though, to be sure, there are examples of these longer and more complex units in the Iliad, such similes are more common in the Odyssey. There is no implication, however, that the Odyssey represents a written style while the Iliad is the product of an earlier stage when poetry was sung. Both were composed orally, but the composition of the Odyssey is to this extent more subtle and sophisticated, though needless to say, there are also similes which are strictly additive, uncomplicated, and unsubordinated in the Odyssey.

Corroboration of the general additive quality of extending lines can be found in the recent study by C. J. Ruijgh, Autour de "te Épique" in which he identifies a usage of the particle τε which implies a closer connection between two clauses than coordination. He calls this function "disgressif-permanent". The use of τε (relative, temporal, or coordinate) signifies that the clause is not essential to the understanding of the independent statement and is thus digressive. At the same time, the subordinate clause generally provides information which is always true of the independent statement and thus expresses a connection which can be regarded as permanent. The subordinate clause then provides information which does not have to be said, and it can thus be regarded as digressive rather than essential to the immediate context.[59]

III. Conclusion: The Language of the Similes

As one critic of Homer phrased his comments on the poem:

Oft of one wide expanse had I been told

That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne;

Yet did I never breathe its pure serene

Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:

Then felt I like some watcher of the skies

When a new planet swims into his ken . . .

Against such a statement the remarks made in this chapter may sound like literary slander.

Homer repeated whole similes, continually borrowed phrases from here and there to make obvious pastiches, was a master at the creation of the run-on sentence, and often broke the basic rules of grammar. Yet the poet who composed in this way has been regarded by the most demanding grammarians and scrupulously literal critics as the father of Western letters and the model of the epic. The evidence presented in this chapter is clear indication that Homer, as great a poet as he was, composed even the smallest and most self-contained images in terms of half-lines, whole lines, and blocks of lines. Such a technique inevitably leads to a style which is far different from a later written style. And therefore what would be regarded as clumsy and awkward in a written epic must often be excused as a mark of oral composition.[60]

Many critics have been willing to admit that the narrative is the product of oral composition but doubt the oral composition of the similes. Lingering suspicions have existed that such short and yet effective images must be the spontaneous creation of an individual poet and must have reflected the world around him, even though the narrative was built from type scenes and formulaic phrases inherited from a long line of oral singers. The evidence cited in this study shows that similes seem to have had an ancestry which is also based in the oral tradition. Similes were taken from the poet's memory harking back to the inherited diction of the oral tradition rather than created from the poet's eye glancing on a memorable landscape. If then the similes were the products of an oral singer and were composed in terms of the traditional units—large and small—which have been illustrated, there is solid support in the language and structure of Homeric verse for the statements concerning the placement, subject matter and extension which have been previously made.

It has been demonstrated that the poet reached certain junctures in the narrative where he customarily thought of singing a simile.[61] Examination of the language of the similes suggests that the simile is an independent entity entering the narrative either at the beginning of the line or else beginning at one of the traditional caesurae of the line. Such positioning facilitates the insertion of the standard metrical configurations of the simile unit at several points in each line; thus the poet has no need to create each simile individually for its place. In addition, since each simile was so independent of the narrative, the poet did not need to prepare for the simile. When he came to the crucial juncture, he was only required to decide whether he would continue with a simile or with one of the other alternatives suggested by the tradition. There would be little point in examining the clause directly before the simile for signs of an impending simile because the lines preceding this juncture permitted a choice which was quite free among two or three alternatives. Probably an oral poet himself could not have told his audience whether he would sing a simile until he was at the crucial spot, an indication of how strongly independent the simile was in conception, in practice, and in form from the narrative. Finally, the additive structure of each simile shows that it was not of major significance to the poet whether he sang a long or short simile to satisfy the simile suggestion given to him by the tradition. Some similes are so short that a moment's inattentiveness from the audience would remove them and their effect from the poem. It may even be that an oral poet would choose the alternative of the simile in such cases to finish out his line smoothly; a short simile will usually fill out a colon without complicating the story. The choice was to sing a simile or not; in the former case, the length of the extension could be determined as the poet worked with the subject, felt the needs of the story, and kept a watchful eye on the tolerance of his audience. At the beginning of any one line the poet was called upon to answer only one question: was there to be a simile or not? Subject and extension could all be settled independently of that question.

Concerning the subject matter of the similes the poet seems most often to have thought in terms of a simple subject with no real notion of precise balance between simile and narrative.[62] The choice of the basic subject was limited to a traditional list of formulaic or, at least, independent metrical units which the poet willingly embraced in order to turn his thoughts to other matters. The short similes, which stand by themselves or may be extended into longer similes, demonstrate the poet's manner of choosing the basic subject first and then considering its extension. A certain artificial quality or even serious incongruity can only be expected when the poet took the subject suggested by a traditional scene each time even though the details of each particular story may have changed. Incongruities are especially noticeable when the poet chose the same simile twice—as in the simile of the hungering lion—even though the story, the motivation, and the characters are quite different. And yet in the majority of cases similes sit well enough in their location and such a judgment is probably the limit of the poet's concern, since he wants his story to move forward easily with no exceptionally jarring passages. Perfection in comparisons in the sense one finds this quality in the similes of Vergil is nearly impossible for the oral poet. When he submits to the dictates of the tradition and its formulaic language, he has conceded this point. His aim when singing within the tradition is to diminish incongruity and roughness while admitting that neither can be totally abolished.

Finally, it has been shown that the poet extended each simile by looking more to the tone of the whole passage than to the details of the narrative which he was trying to complement.[63] Often when the simile goes further than the narrative or falls short or simply is irrelevant, the poet is not idly wandering, he is trying to deepen the effectiveness of the whole scene by lending a tone or atmosphere which will complement the narrative scene. Some similes were recalled by the poet from his experience and had, therefore, been tested in their effect, while undoubtedly some similes were improvised as the poet sang. The additive structure of each simile would allow an oral poet to create freely as he sang, all the while watching his audience to see when the effect had been achieved; thus he would never have committed himself to a long, involved simile without expressly willing it. The paratactic structure of the simile allowed the poet to concentrate fully on the tone of the simile without distracting himself for the complexities of subordination and also permitted him to stop the development of an idea which did not seem to be effective and turn easily to another approach.

None of these statements seems particularly new when applied to the narrative. My aim has been to point out features of traditional oral diction which are uniform throughout the similes and which may even explain some of the odd features of grammar and structure in several similes. Considering the press of time, the compulsion of a binding form like the hexameter, and the insatiate demands of an audience, it is almost impossible to think of a bard composing both simile and narrative in any other way. The advantage of conforming to the traditional oral method of composition is that it permits impromptu singing in units which are unsubordinated one to the other and which are not dominated by any organic, unifying conception with requirements of rigid parallels and precise exclusions.

And yet in his adherence to the oral diction there is a greater freedom for the development of two concerns which are quite vital to Homer: the effective presentation of the individual scene—both fact and feeling, and the communication to other men of the theme of the larger story. The artistry and the significance which men of various ages have found in the Iliad and the Odyssey are ample justification for a creative poet's submission to the diction of traditional epic. The prison unto which Homer doomed himself no prison was. And it is tempting to speculate about an epic poet who might have decided to escape the oral diction by creating anew a tale for an audience attuned to traditional songs. This is a man who very probably would feel "the weight of too much liberty."

Notes—Chapter 5

1. For discussions of various relationships between simile and narrative see : Fränkel, passim; K. Riezler, "Das homerische Gleichnis und der Anfang der Philosophie", Die Antike 12 (1936), pp. 253-271; Webster, pp. 223-239; W. Schadewaldt, "Die homerische Gleichniswelt und die Kretisch-Mykeni- sche Kunst" in Von Homers Welt und Werk (4th ed.; Stuttgart 1965), p. 149 ff.

2. Fränkel, p. 6 f.

3. For example, C. M. Bowra, Tradition and Design in the Iliad (Oxford 1930), p. 92, A. Shewan, "Suspected Flaws in Homeric Similes'' in Homeric Essays (Oxford 1935), pp. 217-228, and Webster p. 235 ff.

4. For example, H. Düntzer, Homerische Abhandlungen (Leipzig 1872), pp. 499-506; V. Inama, "Le Similitudini nell' Iliade e nell' Odissea," RFIC 5. (1877), pp. 277-375, esp. 359-61; and H. Mancuso, "De Similitudinibus Homericis Capita Selecta. Particula I: Certamen Leonis et Asini," RFIC 43 (1915), pp. 56-66.

5. The challenge is clearly stated by Leaf on 15.263-68: "How a single 'Homer' could have thus repeated his own best passages, careless of their appropriateness, it is for the defenders of the unity of the Iliad to say."

6. For example, 5.161, 11.129; 11.324, 17.281.

7. Whitman, p. 279. Cf. Webster, p. 236.

8. However, excision as a critical tool must be judiciously used. Cf. the approach of B. Fenik, Typical Battle Scenes in the Iliad (Wiesbaden 1968) to repeated patterns and lines; esp. p. 45 : "Repetition, by itself, is not sufficient proof of consciously planned effect, or for maintaining that one part is older than another, or that two different poets were at work. Other, and stronger evidence is needed for any of these conclusions."

9. It might be objected that Homer was not purely an oral poet depending on his memory but could take advantage in some way of the art of writing; cf. A. Lesky, "Homeros", RE Suppl. 11 (1968), 703-709. It would be possible in this case for Homer to have composed a simile, found it to his liking, recalled it and used it again. Such repetition would not necessarily involve reminiscence of the previous setting of the simile; see Lesky in DLZ 56 (1935) 1291. Yet on the assumption that the similes arose out of oral rather than written practice and that their nature is better explained by initial examination under conditions of oral composition, a modern critic should not automatically jump to the introduction of writing to explain the repeated similes. These similes offer strong indication that they were employed in a way consistent with our knowledge of oral poetic practice. It is most valuable for a discussion of the essential oral nature of these repeated similes to treat them as parallel to other repeated scenes, such as eating and arming scenes, where repetition is not to be explained on the basis of written reuse but on the basis of a very strong tradition. If it is assumed that we possess two occurrences out of four, five, or a potential one hundred repetitions, then the simile is as good as being part of a remembered pool, written or not. In this case my arguments for a collection of reusable similes would apply. Lee suggests on p. 26 that these similes were repeated because there was no tradition upon which poets could draw in creating them; since the simile was a late creation, poets turned to pre-existing material "in default of traditional formulas". Such a view ignores the subtlety with which the simile of the hungering lion is placed in its setting. In addition, this argument is weakened by the overwhelming number of unrepeated similes.

10. Webster, p. 236.

11. Cf. Bowra op. cit. (supra, n. 3) p. 92.

12. This statement goes against the judgement of Shewan op. cit. (supra, n. 3) p. 220: "It is very difficult ... to accept the explanation from imitation or borrowing, whether from a predecessor or a common stock. To sustain such a theory, it would be necessary for its advocates to prove, beyond doubt, that in such cases the recurring simile is in one of its occurrences unsuitable to the context and borrowed. This can seldom, if ever, be shown. But till that is done, we are entitled to accept the duplicated image as original in both cases." Such a conclusion seems to advance our understanding very slightly and to ignore the implications of the simile of the hungering lion.

13. Shipp, pp. 3-222.

14. Shipp, p. 208 ff. and Webster, p. 223 ff.

15. J. B. Hainsworth, "The Homeric Formula and the Problem of its Transmission," BICS 9 (1962), pp. 57-68 and A. Hoekstra, Homeric Modifications of Formulaic Prototypes (Amsterdam 1965).

16. Cf. the cautionary comments of P. Chantraine in his review of Shipp in Revue de Philologie 29 (1955), p. 72 f. Also G. S. Kirk, The Songs of Homer (Cambridge 1962), p. 201 ff.

17. As an example of the mixing of old and new in arming scenes, cf. the armings of Patroclus at 16.130 ff. and of Achilles at 19.367 ff. Both are built on the basis of a traditional framework; the structure of each of these scenes has been analyzed by W. Arend, Die Typischen Scenen bei Homer (Berlin 1933), pp. 92-97 and Table 6 and J.I. Armstrong, "The Arming Motif in the Iliad," AJP 79 (1958), pp. 337-54. Into this framework are set lines 16.141- 144=19.388-391. These lines concerning the Pelian ash spear are not part of the traditional scene, yet are basic to the arming scenes in their contexts, and are—as might be expected—cited in Shipp as containing a sign of linguistic lateness (pp. 35 and 92 n. 2). It is significant that even lines marked as being late compositions are made up of smaller units paralleled elsewhere in the Iliad, none of which are noted by Shipp as containing any sign of linguistic lateness (with 16.141 compare 5.746, 8.390, 16.802, 2.231, 15.569 and 23.668; with 16.143 compare 21.162 and 4.219). Thus, arming scenes show a relatively late formation in several words, were probably carried in the poet's mind as units to judge from their repetition, and betray a much older tradition in their standard format and formulaic phrasing. In this combination of old and new they are parallel to the similes.

18. This statement may seem to contradict the words of Fränkel, p. 105: "Aber dass die Gleichnisse grundsätzlich eine von der Erzählung ganz freie, selbständige Ausmalung des einmal angegebenen Motivs böten, ist falsch." However I do not believe that Fränkel is working at cross purposes to the conclusions of this study. He is analyzing the numerous connections which were made by the poet to his simile scenes while admitting that there are always details which would not fit; I am concentrating more on those elements of the similes which did not fit while agreeing that there are a surprising number of effective connections. It seems reasonable that the poet could have chosen one of his simile blocks to sing and, when finished, realized consciously or unconsciously that the action could now be picked up at a point further advanced than it was at the beginning of the simile.

19. Fränkel, p. 6 points to a looser connection between simile and narrative when he notes that there are similes which have a double point of comparison, e.g., 13.492, 15.624, 5.87. The basic insignificance of the point of comparison is revealed when the poet can change it quite easily in the course of his song.

20. For example, the careful analysis of the simile of Diana, p. 115 ff. in V. Pöschl, Die Dichtkunst Virgils (2nd ed.; Darmstadt 1964).

21. Leaf, on 6.505 and 15.263-68; and CR. Beye, The Iliad, the Odyssey, and the Epic Tradition (New York 1966), p. 27 f.

22. Cf. the various scenes analyzed by Arend op. cit. (supra, n. 17).

23. Murray, p. 245.

24. Cf. Bowra op. cit. (supra n. 3), p. 119: "The epic poet learned some similes as he learned other stock-lines, and, if these were less appropriate in some places than in others, that was because for the moment he relied more on his training than on his judgement."

25. Cf. the similar explanation of repeated typical scenes by Fenik op. cit. (supra, n. 8), p. 47: "... the source of the typical scenes is not to be found in a particular poem, but in the general technique of oral composition."

26. Cf. Webster, pp. 223 ff. and 235.

27. Much of the discussion of the colometric structure and the placement of the caesurae in the hexameter line will be based on the studies of O'Neill and Porter: E. G. O'Neill, Jr., "The Localization of Metrical Word-Types in the Greek Hexameter," YCS 8 (1942), pp. 103-178 and H. N. Porter, "The Early Greek Hexameter," YCS 12 (1951), pp. 1-63. I will refer to these articles by the author's names.

28. There are two entries on this chart which appear to be outside the normal colometric structure: λέων ὣς ending at 12 and ὥς τίς τε λέων ending at 7. There are two examples of λέων ὣς ending the line (11.129 and 20.164) even though Porter's Table Va shows that ls/sl/l or s is one of the least common metrical patterns in the fourth colon. There is further indication that this phrase is difficult to introduce neatly into the line: the same two words precede each occurrence ("ἐναντίον ὦρτο λέων ὣς"). The second phrase ὥς τίς τε λέων is always filled out by a preposition (s s) which makes this pattern the second most prevalent in this position according to Porter's Table IVa. λέων ὣς remains a difficult phrase to reconcile with colometric structure; the rest of the examples seem to fit neatly within the standard cola of the line and thus provide wide opportunity for a poet to insert the phrase "like a lion".

29. See Chart 2, supra, p. 87.

30. 4.243, 4.246, 21.29, and Od. 24.392.

31. On the whole question of defining the formula see J. B. Hainsworth op. cit. (supra, n. 15), "Structure and Content in Epic Formulae: The Question of the Unique Expression," CQ 14 (1964), pp. 155-164, and The Flexibility of the Homeric Formula (Oxford 1968), J. A. Russo, "A Closer Look at Homeric Formulas," TAPhA 94 (1963), pp. 235-247 and "The Structural Formula in Homeric Verse," YCS 20 (1966), pp. 219-240, William W. Minton, "The Fallacy of the Structural Formula," TAPhA 96 (1965), pp. 241-253, and Michael N. Nagler, Formula and Motif in the Homeric Epics: Prolegomena to an Aesthetics of Oral Poetry (Diss. Berkeley, 1966).

32. Cf. also J. A. Russo op. cit. "The Structural Formula . . ." (supra, n. 31). In the Appendix of Common Structural Formula (I.B. 4) he lists verbs of the shape s s l as common occurrences before the B caesura.

33. G. S. Kirk points out the weakness of Porter's C^2 caesura in "Studies in Some Technical Aspects of Homeric Style: The Structure of the Homeric Hexameter," YCS 20 (1966), pp. 73-104.

34. That simile and narrative are equally representative of the oral tradition is only to be expected from the nature of oral recitation and the limitations which the audience places upon the poet. Cf. C. S. Lewis, A Preface to Paradise Lost (Oxford, 1942), p. 20: "A line which gives the listener pause is a disaster in oral poetry because it makes him lose the next line. And even if he does not lose the next, the rare and ebullient line is not worth making. In the sweep of recitation no individual line is going to count for very much."

35. Compare the analysis of the formulaic nature of the simile at 20.164 by A. B. Lord, "Homer as Oral Poet," HSCP 72 (1967) 1-46 on p. 28. In this whole study is concerned with methods of identifying oral verse. The analysis of this simile demonstrates the density of formulae in an oral style.

36. This statement is supported by A. B. Lord's analysis of the growth and interest of the poet in The Singer of Tales (Cambridge 1960), p. 36: "There is some justification for saying indeed that the particular formula itself is important to the singer only up to the time when it has planted in his mind its basic mold. When this point is reached, the singer depends less and less on learning formulas and more and more on the process of substituting other words in the formula patterns."

37. J. C. Hogan, The Oral Nature of the Homeric Simile (Diss. Cornell, 1966). It was surprising to me to find this dissertation with the same title as mine shortly after I had finished my degree; while Hogan's general conclusions are the same, his method of argumentation differs. He focuses on the internal structure of the simile to prove the oral quality of its composition. He defines the extent to which formulae can be found in the similes and the relation of these formulae to the narrative sections of the Iliad and the Odyssey. He also shows in detail the additive and autonomous nature of the units by which the basic simile is extended. His conclusions fit very well with mine as is evident in this quotation: "The paratactic style is agreed to be characteristic of oral poetry, and we have seen much evidence of this style in the similes. Not only do formulae tend to be arranged appositionally, but even those phrases for which we have no exact parallel are organized by the same principle. Even in cases of two and three line enjambment, which are significantly few, the inner elements are likely to be appositional expansions of the motif rather than particular expressions of a complex whole." (p. 194).

38. M. Parry, "The Distinctive Character of Enjambement in Homeric Verse," TAPhA 60 (1929), pp. 200-220, esp. 206-7. Cf. M. W. Edwards, "Some Features of Homeric Craftsmanship." TAPhA 97 (1966), pp. 115-179

39. Cf. Parry op. cit. (supra, n. 38), p. 215: ". . . Homer was ever pushed on to use unperiodic enjambement. Oral versemaking by its speed must be chiefly carried on in an adding style. The Singer has not time for the nice balances and contrasts of unhurried thought: he must order his words in such a way that they leave him much freedom to end the sentence or draw it out as the story and the needs of the verse demand."

40. This was noted by Notopoulos, "Parataxis in Homer: A New Approach to Homeric Literary Criticism," TAPhA 80 (1949), pp. 1-23, in regard to parataxis throughout the Homeric poems: "The imperious domination of the immediate verse and episode shapes in large measure the paratactic style as well as content of the oral epic. . . The poet thus tends to become episodic in his mentality because of his verbal technique." (p. 15) This article, basic to any study of parataxis in oral poetry, is a constant aid in analyzing the structure of the similes.

41. Chantraine II, p. 361 f.

42. See Chart 2, supra, p. 87.

43. See C. J. Ruijgh, Autour de "te Épique" (Amsterdam 1971), p. 589 for a discussion of the unusual way in which this simile is joined to the surrounding narrative.

44. The lack of logical connectives and subordination seems to have bothered Leaf, among others, in regard to this simile: (on 10.8) "The simile runs on as though 'the mighty mouth of war' were a natural phenomenon, differing about as much from a snow-storm as a snow-storm from a hail-storm." He then tries to see some logic in this list: "The idea may be that if the lightning is not accompanied by (1) rain, (2) hail, or (3) snow, it must be a portent of war. This seems to place a high importance on 'summer-lightning.' But it is hopeless to criticize such an incompetent piece of expression."

45. Both G. W. Nitzsch and Leaf find weakness in the structure of this simile. Nitzsch, Beiträge zur Geschichte der Epischen Poesie der Griechen (Leipzig 1862), p. 342, is troubled by the τῶν in line 389 which he feels refers to the waters in 385; he would excise the intervening lines 386-388. Leaf (on 16. 387-88) finds many reasons for the spuriousness of the two lines 387-88; among his reasons one shows the kind of criticism which is not prepared to accept a loose, additive structure: the couplet "... entirely spoils the balance of the simile by laying weight on a point which is far removed from the required picture."

46. E. H. Friedländer, Beiträge zur Kenntnis der homerischen Gleichnisse (Berlin 1870), II, p. 24 f. felt the growing looseness of this simile. He thought that the effect of the simile had been accomplished by line 280; if line 287 followed immediately, there would be a close connection between simile and narrative—especially in the parallel structure of line 278 and 287. The material in between (281-286) merely weakened the point of the simile. Once again this is criticism not written with an eye to paratactic composition.

47. Ruijgh (see above, note 43) p. 854 feels that the poet quite naturally forgot to add a concluding phrase joining the simile back to the narrative because he had already indicated the connection at 3.2. This idea is quite in keeping with the additive manner of composition common to most similes. The unusual form of two juxtaposed similes modifying the same narrative object may explain the poet's confusion.

48. The double nature of this simile has received much attention. L. Friedländer, "Doppelte Recensionen in Ilias und Odyssee," Philologus 4 (1849), pp. 577-591 on 586 f. and G. W. Nitzsch, Sagenpoesie, pp. 141 and 168 remove the beginning of the simile and leave the traveller section as the true heart of the simile. Fränkel, p. 72 and G. Jachmann, Der homerische Schiffskatalog und die Ilias (Köln und Opladen 1958), p. 329 ff. also see two similes combined although the process of combination is different in each man's view. For a defense of the unity of the simile see J. T. Kakridis, "Das Wespengleichnis im 16 der Ilias," Hermes 88 (1960), p. 250-253 with a Zusatz by S. G. Kapsomenos.

49. Chantraine II 355 comments on the looseness of the grammatical consistency within this simile but admits that paratactic structure is constant in the similes.

50. Cf. B. E. Perry, "The Early Greek Capacity for Viewing Things Separately," TAPhA 68 (1937), pp. 403-427, concerning the Homeric simile: "It is a familiar fact that the poet is not always content to illustrate just the particular point for which the comparison is made; often, through concentration upon the image before him, he adds details that have nothing to do with the narrative and which do not belong logically in the comparison." (p. 414).

51. Notopoulos op. cit. (supra, n. 40), p. 21 in speaking of the relation of the individual performance to the traditional epic story defines a similar cooperative role for the audience: "The poet selects his material and the unity of the larger whole may be in the minds of the audience, as Bassett has so skilfully shown. . . The oral recitation thus becomes a selection of parts whose whole is the inexpressed context of the traditional material."

52. As Notopoulos op. cit. (supra, n. 40), p. 20 has said: "... the audience's interest is the poet's interest, and it may be stated as a cardinal principle in oral literature that the interest of the audience rather than concern for the structure of his material is the object of the poet."

53. Cf. S. E. Bassett, The Poetry of Homer (Berkeley 1938), p. 128: "The best efforts of the poet may fail if the listener does not contribute his share in the telling of the tale."

54. Cf. J. A. Notopoulos, "Studies in Early Greek Oral Poetry," HSCP 68 (1964), pp. 1-77: "The seeming discreteness of the elements of the structure of the Works and Days does not make the poem inorganic from the point of view of the Boeotian farmer whose life and problems enter into it. The loose parataxis of the poem must not have bothered Hesiod's audience as much as it does the scholar. Hesiod could make jumps and abrupt transitions with an audience that held in its mind the necessary knowledge of interconnection." (p. 51 f.).

55. Cf. Leaf on 8.306.

56. Notopoulos op. cit. (supra, n. 40), p. 15: "... the oral poet is both physically and mentally bound to the moment, the immediate verse, and his intimate relation with the audience. . . neither the poet nor his audience can divert their attention for any period of time to the whole ; they cannot pause to analyze, compare, and relate parts to the whole; the whole only exists as an arrière pensée which both the poet and his audience share as a context for the immediate tectonic plasticity of the episode."

57. F. M. Combellack, "Milman Parry and Homeric Artistry." Comparative Literature XI (1959), pp. 193-208; on p. 208 he is discussing the critical limitations on the interpreter of oral verse: "For all that any critic of Homer can now show, the occasional highly appropriate word may, like the occasional highly inappropriate one, be purely coincidental—part of the law of averages, if you like, in the use of the formulary style."

58. Hogan op. cit. (supra, n. 37), p. 156.

59. Ruijgh (see above, note 43).

60. The additive approach to composition is especially significant when one must contend with a book like D. J. N. Lee's The Similes of the Iliad and the Odyssey Compared. Much of his argument is derived from a subjective judgment on those lines which are organically related to their passages and those which are obvious additions. If it can be agreed that the oral style of the Homeric poems encourages an additive method of composition with less than complete care for matching details, then there is little proof of lateness or spuriousness in calling attention to lines which seem to a reader of the twentieth century to be added or irrelevant.

61. See supra, Chapter 2.

62. See supra, Chapter 3.

63. See supra, Chapter 4.

CHAPTER SIX

THE HOMERIC SIMILE AND THE

ORAL TRADITION

I. The Relationship between Art and Poetry

One of the continuing complaints of Homerists is the lack of contemporary evidence independent of the Homeric poems on which to test their conclusions. Comparative study of the epic in later Greek manifestations, in Roman transformations, and in the oral verse of other literatures is an ultimate expedient embraced with no real joy. There is no adequate substitute for the enforced breadth of view provided by independent contemporary evidence, especially when one's eyes are directed narrowly at a single work of art. Conclusions about Homeric artistry reached solely on the basis of the Homeric text represent the best efforts of critics and undoubtedly approach true descriptions of the poet and his poem though such conclusions lack the critical sharpness and certitude possible in studying another age, closer in time, whose literary and social conventions are well known and whose history and thought patterns are familiar.

In spite of this innate weakness in Homeric studies, there is one possibility for independent testimony which has, at times, been invoked: the Homeric audience. Although there is no way in which any single individual of that group can be questioned concerning his response to the poems, there remains the possibility of probing the attitudes of the group by examining other creative works produced in the period from late Mycenaean times to the early Archaic age. Visual art works—pottery, stelae, sarcophagi—are preserved from this long period in adequate quantity to permit at least superficial examination of the taste of the people and the aims of their artists.

Such an inquiry is intended to conclude and summarize the detailed analysis of the Homeric simile. While conclusions to long studies are often presented with great pride and conviction, this brief study of the relationship between the similes and art, is presented with only marginal confidence. These interpretations of individual art works carry little weight of their own since they are, in the real sense of the words, derived and, therefore, highly dependent observations. In the course of gathering information on the similes, I have noted that there are certain customary comparisons in the similes which have their analogues in the work of visual and plastic artists. It is possible, and perhaps no more than possible, that there is a similar intent on the part of the poet, who sang the simile, and on the part of the painter or sculptor, who created the art work.

There have been numerous attempts to relate the art of visual artists to the Homeric poems. Connections have been found at least four different levels:

1. Close representations of specific objects or events

2. Illustrations of general practices and customs

3. Reflections of cultural traditions

4. Parallels of artistic technique and style.

On the first level are discoveries of an almost direct relationship between a physical object and an object described in the poems.[1] The parallel between the so-called Nestor's cup and the description of the much larger and more ornate vessel in Iliad II is close, but not precise.[2] The explanation of the boar's tusks found in Mycenaean tombs is probably the most helpful direct parallel between archaeology and the Homeric poems. Parallels to individual scenes may be similarly sought, and R. Hampe has discovered a picture of a shipwreck which seems to be based on the Odyssey. [3] The drawing of such parallels does not involve the creative power of the poet nor the poetic use of the object, but simply indicates the existence of an object or event which is similar to that in the text.

On the second level there are studies of practices and customs known from painted scenes and interpretations of remains which parallel passages in the Homeric poems. For example, there is a great difference in battle tactics between the man who carries one long thrusting spear and the warrior who carries two smaller throwing spears. This is not simply a question of how many spears the man picked up; it is a comment on the type of fighting this warrior expected, the relative age or newness of this method of warfare, and the armor which would be complementary to such a conception of battle.[4] Information on such subjects comes largely from physical remains and art works of various periods. When the text stresses that the shield of Ajax is like a tower, this is sufficient evidence for one critic to maintain:

Though in two of his more spectacular appearances (as champion against Hector and as the protector of Teukros) we shall find Aias as a wielder of the round shield, behind this figure we can discern another, older and more shadowy, who is still so dominated by the ancient tradition that alone of the first-class heroes he never wears a corslet. In Homer's hands indeed he becomes a creature of flesh and blood, as solid a creation as any of the secondary characters; but his footing in heroic society is precarious . . . The great Aias seems to be some legendary figure of the remote past, the type of the perfect warrior as he was in the days when the body-shield held sway.[5]

In these first two types of inquiry the parallels are of interest mainly to later critics; they are of slight importance to the oral poet and of even less concern to his audience. If the Homeric audience recollected the object or a similar object as they were listening to the singer, they would probably have nodded in silent recognition but would not have let this recollection distract them from the course of the story. The experience of listening to oral verse would have approximated graduate study if the audience had been expected to interrupt their concentration on the story in order to ponder the mixture of ages which seems to have formed the conglomerate figure of Ajax.[6] The concern in these studies is primarily archaeological, and the points made have more relevance to the history and to the art of early Greece than they do to the composition or the artistry of the poems.

The third type of connection made between visual and verbal art concerns the similes more directly. There are critics who have related the style of description in the similes to the painting style of either Minoan-Mycenaean art or to the painters of the late Geometric period. F. Winter finds that Homer and Mycenaean artists clearly observed the individual characteristics of nature, while early Archaic art shows a marked tendency to use simile subjects as decoration with little concern for the effectiveness of the individual scene. In the later period there is a tendency toward the use of repeated type scenes as opposed to the more vigorous Mycenaean treatment of individual scenes, each of which is told for its own sake.[7] Opposed to him is W. Schadewaldt who finds the spirit of the Homeric simile utterly divorced from Minoan-Mycenaean art. Cretan art is unrealistic in that the characters are more decorative in their nature than narrative; each character in a Cretan painting fills his space on the wall without really entering into the scene which is being portrayed. In his similes Homer, on the other hand, is interested in the essence of the object which is being portrayed. He combines the surface appearance with the essence to produce a small narrative scene in which characters play their appropriate roles.[8] Schadewaldt's conclusions are carried further by R. Hampe, who feels that the art of the Geometric period provides the closest parallel in aims and techniques to the similes. These scholars attempt to define the aesthetic principles which control the representation of the same scene in words and in paint or in inlay.

This third type of study differs from the previous two examples because there is some attempt to see the attitude of the poet toward his material from nature. Underlying these studies is the belief that the proper interpretation of the artist's perception and presentation of nature will lead to further knowledge about the poet or poets of the epic poems. Once again, however, there is little interest in the audience. If there is a consideration of tradition, it is the tradition which the poet carried within himself and upon which he drew in forming the exact words of his simile scenes.

Finally, there are a few attempts at locating the connection between visual art and poetry in the shared thoughts of poet, painter, and audience. C. H. Whitman has recently illustrated the parallel between the composition of the Homeric poems and the rhythmical, balanced placement of similar designs on Geometric vases. He has analysed the principles of composition which appear in art objects of the period when Homer composed, and he has found these same principles operative in the structure of the Homeric poems. The common concern of both visual and literary artists is the approval of those who view the painting and of those who hear the epic. Consequently, the connection between these two types of art lies where, in the final analysis, it inevitably must: in the minds of the artists and of the audience for which they were composing. This type of study explains little about the actual visible objects or their history; yet with the aid of these objects the critic hopes to define the structure of the poem, to establish the poet's intent in creating his epic, and to perceive, even vaguely, the audience's reactions in hearing the poem. Scholars of later generations can perceptively analyze Homeric composition, but they can never come close enough to the instinctive and immediate understanding possessed by a contemporary audience to participate in the full pleasure of the story well told. Similarly it is possible to analyze intellectually the principles which underlie the creation of the Geometric amphora, but one would have to be born surrounded by the traditions and spirit of ancient Greece to recapture the instantaneous and un- conscious feelings stirred by the achievement of excellence in terms of the living, artistic canon. The comparison of the two media, however, allows a modern critic to approach one step closer to an understanding of the contemporary audience.[9]

In this listing of four varied approaches to art through verse and verse through art, the main concern of each type of criticism stands out clearly. Each of these approaches, in the order listed, becomes increasingly more significant for the study of oral poetry as each considers people who are more directly involved in the creation and presentation of the poem. The first type of study, which points out parallels to physical objects, is of interest to the archaeologist and the historian, who are not particularly pertinent when one's aim is literary. The second and third types of investigation, which identify customs and cultural traditions similar to physical remains, concentrate on the background of the poet and the visual artist. Yet it is only in research which seeks artistic principles common to the age that the most important contributors to the oral style are considered in the fullness to which they are so amply entitled: the Homeric audience. The oral poet may have continually renewed the tradition, but it was his audience which pronounced such renewal successful or misguided, and which controlled by its acceptance the rate of change and the amount of freedom which the oral poet could enjoy. There is an insufficiently understood inter- mingling of two strong forces when one speaks of the oral tradition: poet and audience, and only the last type of study takes into account the relationship between poet and audience which truly determines the direction of the tradition. Such inquiry is necessarily indefinite in its results and difficult because of the intricacy of interpretation, since any depth in understanding may, in fact, be ultimately impossible once the oral poets, their audiences, and their milieu have passed from the earth. And yet only in the minds of both poet and audience can the connection between words and objects be adequately explored.[10]

These are words of almost inevitable frustration. There are few ways to learn the thoughts and the desires of the Homeric audience except through mute physical remains. The Iliad and the Odyssey constitute an overwhelming percentage of the extant words and thought of this early period, and there is little independent testimony. Perhaps in following the method used by C. H. Whitman it will be possible to see some of the traditional features of the simile in visual art, because such a comparison of poetry and art provides a technique for more closely defining the expectations of the audience for whom both painter and poet were creating. If the physical remains of a society can cast light upon the words of a poet, then it should also be true that the poets of the oral tradition can provide words for the voiceless monuments of painters and sculptors. Further, when various craftsmen from scattered locations and different periods seem to be working on the same principles, then there is an opportunity to focus from several directions on the aesthetic principles of the times, which is to say, the aesthetic principles of the people. Such an approach will not allow a critic to distinguish subtle changes of attitude and shifts of view, but it will illustrate in general terms the ways of thinking which produced the characteristic features of the epics and the distinctive qualities of the visual art.

It has been demonstrated previously that there were certain narrative contexts which suggested a very limited number of subjects for similes to the poet.[11] The chart on page 86 lists all such contexts; two of these are:

Lion (Boar) in contexts of a fighting warrior Hunting scenes in contexts of pursuit and attack.

There are many other narrative contexts listed, but the two scenes of fighting warrior (s) and pursuit and attack are the ones most commonly represented in visual art. The chart was then reversed to indicate the connections between simile and narrative as they existed in the minds of the Homeric poet and his audience:

Contexts of a fighting warrior will often contain a simile of a lion (boar)

Contexts of pursuit and attack will often contain a simile of a hunting scene.

This connection of lion with fighting warrior was not prescribed in a handbook for oral poets, nor was it a rigid rule which every oral poet was compelled to follow at the risk of being drummed out of his profession. The compulsion to employ the lion simile arose from the past success of this subject in conveying the mood and in paralleling the situation of most basic appearances of the fighting warrior. Such a connection would not have remained in the traditional diction as firmly as it did unless it had been highly useful in a variety of situations. The frequency of these two simile subjects in customary scenes is ample indication of the poet's dependence on such a tradition. But it is also evidence that the pairing of lions and boars with a fighting warrior was equally familiar to the Homeric audience. The early Greeks, reared on the oral tradition for generations, would feel nothing strange or wondrous in the words: "He fought like a lion ..." or "He chased him just as a dog chases a deer ..." In further corroboration of this familiarity there is evidence that the painters of various periods were also aware of this traditional connection and drew on it in creating their works.

In order to illustrate the premise that artists chose subject matter in the same way as oral poets, a special type of art work is required. Either there must be an obvious type of iconography which allows the significance of the simile-like scene to be grasped easily, or else the art object must be composed of two or more distinct panels, one of which must illustrate a narrative scene from the world of men while the other presents a scene containing creatures from the world of simile (in this case lions, boars, hunters, and their prey). The simile scene should, then, parallel the action in the narrative panel. Such an arrangement is rare in Greek art since more often Greek artists attempted to cover the available surface with one unified composition rather than split the field and, thus, be forced to create a unity from the two pictures.[12] There are, however, several examples of art objects which do reveal a desire to unify subjects of various picture panels and which also reveal a feeling for the same connections which can be observed in matching simile subject and narrative context.[13] Three basic styles offer evidence:

- 1. Mycenaean Art and Its Precursors

- 2. Protο-Attic Pottery

- 3. Clazomenian Sarcophagi

1. Myceanean Art and its Precursors

The evidence from Mycenaean and earlier art bearing directly on the connection between simile and narrative is understandably slight given the great distance in time from the composition of the Homeric poems and the inevitable changes in the oral tradition. The most pertinent art objects which have a symbolic meaning are the various figures of lions, but statements on such objects run the risk of going beyond the evidence. There are, of course, inlayed figures of lions and hunters on dagger blades;[14] these could represent the might of the warrior who wields the weapon, though such an interpretation is not necessarily certain. More clearly metaphorical is the Lion Gate of Mycenae which is so rich in symbolic meaning. It is evident to any visitor to the magnificent site that this sculpture is intended to say much about the power and prestige of the Mycenaean king.[15] Though it would be excessive to try to give a precise meaning to each feature of the sculptural composition, the two heraldic lions most probably represent the warrior aspect of the king of Mycenae. Such a comparison as 11.172 ff. comes easily to mind:

some were being driven through the middle of the plain like cattle which a lion has scattered coming in the darkness of the night, and to one alone appears sheer death—first seizing her neck he breaks it and then laps up the blood and all the entrails, so did mighty Agamemnon, son of Atreus follow after them . . . (11.172-77)

In support of this interpretation A. W. Persson has listed parallels from Egyptian and Near Eastern art which may show the origin of the comparison of ruler and victorious warrior to a lion. His citations reach back as far as the 18th Dynasty (1580 B.C.). For example, the Pharaoh Thotmes II is presented on a scarabaeus as a lion standing over a fallen enemy with the inscription: "The lion, The conqueror, a wildly glaring lion, when he sees the enemy who crosses his path." The Pharoah besieges a city: "like a lion who lies in wait." Persson also cites the Lion Gate at Boghazköi, which may, however, have an apotropaic function, and the comparisons to lions from Genesis 49.9 and Deuteronomy 33.22.[16]

Similar in intent is the scene on a stele found by Schliemann and numbered 1427 in the inventory of the National Museum at Athens.[17] The sculpture is badly damaged, but certain features can be clearly identified. In the picture panel there are two separate scenes which seem to be unrelated. The bottom of the composition shows a lion chasing a deer. Above these two animal figures is a single man driving a chariot. He holds the reins in his left hand and a short object, perhaps a whip, in his right. He seems decidedly unarmed. The chariot is being driven over an odd-shaped mound which has been interpreted in various ways; it might be an opposing warrior now fallen under his figure-of-eight shield or a representation of a rocky landscape. The scene of a warrior crushing his enemies would be fitting decoration for a grave marker; G. Mylonas, however, feels that the driver—who is not a warrior since he is unarmed—is engaged in a chariot race which is a part of the funeral games for the dead nobleman.[18] Neither interpretation, however, explains the animals below. If, indeed, there is a unity to the picture, then it seems that the sculptor was using the same type of parallel which is developed in the similes:[19] the charioteer is like the lion who chases a weaker animal, in this case, a deer:

Just as a lion easily tears apart the gentle young of a fleet deer snatching them in his strong teeth when he has entered their lair and taken their tender life from them—and the mother even if she happens to be close by cannot aid them because a terrible trembling strikes her and swiftly she runs through the thick brush and the forest sweating in her panic before the charge of the mighty beast, so also was no one of the Trojans able to keep death away from the two but they fled before the Greeks. (11.113-21)

This stele is so poorly preserved that there is little hope of identifying convincingly the strange object beneath the horse. If it is not the figure of a slain opponent, perhaps it is landscape and the picture merely represents the confident chieftain driving his chariot through his domain. This is an apt scene for a tombstone, and the compliment would be reinforced by the commentary provided in the parallel scene of the lion chasing the deer.

In all these examples from Near Eastern, Egyptian, and Mycenaean art, the lion is joined with the warrior or the nobleman, an analogy which is well established in art and in literature. The persistence of this same comparison with its luxuriant development in the poetry of Homer is probably rooted in the earlier connection which would have entered the Greek oral tradition far before the Iliad and the Odyssey were composed in their present forms.

A similar kind of pairing might be traced in the conjunction of birds with divinities. It has already been pointed out that in two cases it is difficult to distinguish the simile of a bird describing a divinity from a transformation.[20] At Od. 3.372 Athena leaves Telemachus, Nestor, and the assembled citizens of Pylos:

Thus the gleaming-eyed Athena spoke and went away in the likeness of a sea-eagle. Wonder seized all the Achaeans, and the old man was amazed when he saw it.

There is similar ambiguity at Od. 1.320. In the Homeric poems there are thirteen occasions upon which a god or goddess is compared to a bird.

M. Nilsson comments on the representations of birds in conjunction with divinities and shrine models in Minoan art and also on related objects found at Mycenae. Birds appear on sarcophagi with religious scenes, on religious statues, and on temple or shrine models.[21] There is a strong Minoan influence in such works, especially since they do not occur with any frequency after the LH I period. G. Mylonas is dubious of the significance to the Mycenaeans of birds on top of human figures or alighting on shrines, but he is willing to consider the acceptance of this Minoan custom by the Mycenaeans:

PLATE I

Proto-Attic Neck Amphora (The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Purchase, 1911)

PLATE 2

Painted Sarcophagus Rim (The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Rogers Fund, 1921)

... it is not clear whether or not they adopted the device of the bird symbolizing the epiphany of a goddess. After LH I the only example of the divine epiphany is to be found on the sealing from the Rhyton Well of Mycenae; but even that example, dating from LH II times, could be considered an importation. However, the legends and the association of birds with Olympian deities, such as Athena, may indicate the adoption of the Minoan concept of divine epiphany by the Mycenaeans.[22]

These two examples of lion-warrior and bird-divinity connections which appeared in the art and literature of the Near East, Egypt, Crete and Mycenaean Greece may show the origins of the later expanded similes. If this is true, then the folk tradition which united certain similes with limited contexts is very ancient and, perhaps, ultimately pre-Greek.

2. Proto-Attic Pottery

The second area of early Greek art offering two major picture panels is proto-Attic pottery of which perhaps the clearest example is the Nessos Vase in the Metropolitan Museum (Plate I). This amphora has a very tall neck with a picture frieze on it and also one on the body of the vase. There are decorations on the lip of the vase, on the handles, at the shoulders and several bands below the main panel, but the two principal surfaces for decoration are the body and the neck. The main panel shows Heracles fighting Nessos; the panel on the neck contains a panther or lion attacking a deer. Though panthers are not a common topic in the similes, a panther does appear in a context where it is equated to a lion or a boar (17.20 f.), and the one extended simile of the panther puts him in the type of hunting scene which most often would have contained a lion or a boar:

Just as a panther comes out of a deep thicket to face a hunter and does not fear nor flee when she hears the barking of the dogs—even if a man wounds her or strikes her first, still pierced with the spear she does not cease from her fury until she has attacked him or is killed . . . (21.573-78)

If the artist of the Nessos Vase were trying to create a unit in at least these two panels, then he is probably drawing upon his viewers' knowledge of the oral tradition by presenting Heracles subduing Nessos as similar to the wild animal who subdues the deer.

A second example is a vase from Denmark (CVA Danemark 2, Pl. 73, 4a and b). There are three major panels on this vase; on the body there is a scene of warfare on ship and on shore with several killings, while immediately above this scene there is a frieze of four dogs chasing a highly nervous rabbit. There is just such a simile at 10.360:

as when two sharp-toothed dogs, skilled in hunting, chase ceaselessly after a young deer or hare through the woods, and he runs crying before them . . . (10.360-62)

The panel on the neck of the vase represents a man with a sword holding two horses; his connection to the scenes on the body is problematical. He could be the squire holding the horses while his warrior-master is repulsing invaders from the sea; but he could fill so many other roles that satisfactory interpretation is difficult. More important is the immediate juxtaposition of the battle scene and the simile scene.

One further example comes from Berlin (CVA, Deutschland 2, Pl. 43 and 44). There are four major decorative friezes on this vase: on the neck, on the shoulder, and two on the body. The neck band shows individual combat; the shoulder, one warrior fighting from a horse and one from a chariot; the first panel on the body shows several scenes of individual combat; the second band presents six lions. This bottom frieze states in a comparative pictorial way the same spirit as the three upper decorative bands, a connection that would be especially apparent to viewers raised on the oral tradition.

Several other examples can be listed:

1. CVA, National Museum Athens 2, PI. 1 (Grèce): a frieze at the shoulder of the vase with two lions and three stags while the major frieze shows a warrior in a chariot next to a woman and child. Beneath this band there is a procession of six bulls. The connection between the warrior and the lions tracking the stags is amply paralleled from the similes; the bull panel may reflect the prominence of the warrior in the same way that the simile at 2.480 adds stature to Agamemnon; but then this subject appears in so many different contexts in the Homeric poems that it is doubtful that a tradition had been developed which would give added significance to the mere representation of a bull. More revealing is the juxtaposition of the warrior and the lion.

2. Ashmolean Museum, Oxford (#1935.18): an early Orientalizing vase with four bands: 1. Chariots, 2. Hounds pursuing a rabbit, 3. Chariots, 4. Hounds pursuing a fox.

3. British Museum (#1927-4-11-1): a tall amphora with two panels representing warriors with spears and swords. A frieze between the two picture panels contain five dogs chasing one rabbit.

4. Louvre (CA 3468) Attic Sub-geometric: there are five picture panels: 1. (top of vase) single men in two horse chariot; 2. (bottom of neck) standing armed men, equipped with upright spears; 3. (body) men in two-horse chariots and men with shields and spears; 5. (immediately beneath body panel) lions or wolves walking in file; (immediately beneath #4) running horses or dogs. At the very least the two friezes of armed warriors juxtaposed with the lions or wolves make a unified statement; perhaps the running animal contributes its share, especially if these animals are hunting dogs.

3. Clazomenian Sarcophagi

The third art form which may show significant relation to the oral tradition as revealed in the choice of simile subjects is the more or less standard form of the Clazomenian sarcophagus cover; examples are all dated approximately to the 6th century.[23] The form is demonstrated clearly by an example in the Metropolitan Museum (Plate 2). The decorated surface consists of a rectangular frame tapering toward the bottom. The rectangular area left vacant in the center was at times covered by a gabel-shaped roof.[24] At the four corners of this opening there is a protruding small rectangular inset which is treated as part of the surface to be decorated. The long sides of this sarcophagus are painted with an interlocked spiral and palmette motif. At the top and bottom of these side pieces there are square spaces set aside for separate picture panels. Beneath the bottom squares and above the top squares there is a narrow band with geometric or figured decoration. Across the top and the bottom of the cover there are unbroken picture panels running the full width of the sarcophagus. Though within this basic pattern there are variations, the standard form of the Clazomenian sarcophagus is preserved remarkably well in most of the remaining examples.

Particularly pertinent to the intent of the artist is the conscious striving for symmetry throughout the composition with the notable exception of the large picture panels at the top and the bottom. On the sarcophagus from the Metropolitan Museum the decorative elements on the side pieces are almost perfectly symmetrical. At the top there are balancing panels containing two heraldic sphinxes facing one another surrounded by two lions. Although the painting has been severely damaged, the attempt at symmetry is evident in such small details as the curl of the tails on the outer two sphinxes. The sphinx on the far right has a neatly curling tail which stands out in sharp profile against the plain background. The sphinx on the far left carries its tail a little more low slung although in the same neat curl. The problem is one of spacing because the composition on the right is more crowded toward the inside of the sarcophagus while that on the left is more compressed toward the outer edge. However there is no correction made for the differences in spacing. If one sphinx had a handsome tail in an s-curve, then his counterpart must have the same, the desire for symmetry taking precedence over clarity of composition. The same point could be made in reference to the s-curve tails of the two innermost sphinxes, since this area of the picture seems clear on the left but confused on the right.

Continuing down the side panels there are facing centaurs with palm branches. There is a break with the idea of symmetry in this small composition; the palm branches on the left are exhaustively decorated with leaves, while those on the right are denuded. Beneath the centaur is a column of interlocked double spirals with palmettes to either side. There are more spirals on the left than on the right, but this is not evident to the casual observer and the effect is one of symmetry. Then follow two facing sirens; identical decorative elements fill the surrounding space in the square. Beneath the birds is a series of small squares each filled with an abstract design. These are not in perfect symmetry although there are two basic designs which are alternated. Such a listing of the decorative elements reveals the depth of interest in balance and symmetry which is characteristic of the design of most Clazomenian sarcophagi.

The only two panels which are not symmetrical are the large top and bottom panels. Such panels offer another possibility for illustrating graphically the same connections which exist in the Homeric simile. In the example from the Metropolitan Museum there is a battle scene in the top panel. Because the painting is so damaged it is difficult to ascertain the details, but there is a partial symmetry in the composition. The picture is flanked by two chariots each with two riders; there are two round shields, one dark and one light which balance each other toward the middle of the picture. But there are also clear unsymmetrical elements especially in the center section of the painting.

The bottom panel consists of a boar surrounded by openmouthed lions. There is really not much attempt at balance in this panel with the exception of the heraldic position of the lions. Admittedly there is no precise source for this scene in the existing similes, but there is, however, a close parallel:

As when a lion overwhelms a tireless boar in combat when the two fight with high hearts on the peaks of a mountain over a small spring and both wish to drink—the lion overcomes the boar as he pants hard, thus did Hector take life from the valiant son of Menoetius . . . (16.823-28)

The choice of such a simile for a war context is a parallel construction to the scene of the two lions attacking the boar as a balance to the picture of battle in the top panel. The attempt to achieve balance in most of the other details of the sarcophagus cover proves the artist's interest in symmetry and gives a unity to the total composition. If this were the sarcophagus of a warrior chieftain, not only would there be ornament of adequate elaboration for a man of such rank, but the art would convey a fitting epitaph in traditional symbols: he fought like a lion or a boar and perhaps (considering the fallen man over whom the battle has gathered) he even fell in battle fighting like a lion or a boar.

A second example of this type of balance is a sarcophagus from E. Pfuhl, Malerei und Zeichnung der Griechen, PI. 141. There are a few unsymmetrical details in the design: for example, the direction of the heads of the goats at the lower corners or the design of the decorative band above the goats. The upper picture panel is, however, almost totally symmetrical: two warriors leave their chariots and rush at each other while their charioteers drive away from the conflict. At the bottom a lion approaches a grazing deer. Though there is one other animal on the far left, so little of the paint remains that it is unidentifiable. This is an appropriate simile subject to accompany the scene of a warrior doing battle. The message of the traditional symbols is clear; the warrior who lies in this tomb fought like the lion—or else he could, of course, have fallen like the unsuspecting deer.

One further example which may contain a Homeric subject is in the Pergamon Museum (3145). In the top panel two characters threaten a third. Some scholars have seen Odysseus and Diomedes threatening Dolon although there is much guesswork in such an interpretation.[25] The corresponding bottom panel contains a lion and a panther surrounding a steer; though no simile in the Doloneia corresponds exactly, the Greek warriors there are called lions (10.297). More probably the painter and the poet both drew upon a tradition of common connections. The pairing of warriors with lions or panthers is amply precedented in the Homeric corpus.

There are some further examples which need not be discussed in such detail:

1. Louvre (CA 1024): in the top panel there are three individual battle scenes. Two open-mouthed lions attack a grazing cow in the balancing panel at the bottom. The design on the sides is symmetrical including two matching panels of a pair of warriors killing one other warrior. There seems to be a unity in the composition of this sarcophagus cover.

2. Pergamon Museum (#3348): in the top panel Helen is attacked by Menelaus and Odysseus, while in the bottom panel an open- mouthed lion and a panther surround a grazing goat. The design on the sides is symmetrical.

3. Pergamon Museum (#3347): in the top panel two men are fighting over a fallen warrior; on either side is a chariot with a dog beside. In the bottom panel there is a goat surrounded by a lion and a panther. This example is interesting because the bottom panel has the same subject as #3348, which demonstrates that there is some continuity of themes at least in the minds of the painters.

4. Pergamon Museum (#4824): In the top panel are two warriors each leading his horse and dog placed about a winged Athena with helmet and shield. In the bottom panel there are a lion and a panther. Once again it is interesting to note the presence of the lion and the panther although the goat is not there. It may be significant that there is no battle in actual progress in the top panel whereas the previously cited examples show the fighting either on the verge of beginning or well underway. This sarcophagus may be making a statement of the battle ability of the buried warrior: whenever he fought he was as brave as a lion or a panther and had the favour of Athena, but he does not happen to be fighting in the top picture and, therefore, there is no weaker animal being attacked in the bottom panel.

II. The Audience and Oral Tradition

In such art works from various periods and scattered locations there is evidence that visual artists, poets, and audiences of both media consciously or unconsciously made similar associations when seeking an explanatory parallel to a specific narrative scene. Admittedly there is only a small amount of pertinent evidence upon which to base firm statements about the oral tradition. There are many unanswered questions; for example:

- 1. Is this small list exhaustive? Are there no further examples illustrating the connection between simile and narrative?

- 2. Are there illustrations of simile scenes parallel to picture panels which demonstrate lack of unity?

- 3. Is there any reason to think that the technique of paralleling two scenes was wide-spread? Or is there independent evidence that any single creative artist worked in this way?

These are all good questions, and yet to ask them is to misunderstand the collection of evidence offered in this discussion.

In our age of buzzing archaeological activity when new finds are continually appearing, it is hard to feel confidence in any general statement. Too much that is contradictory can be discovered in a brief time, as writers on the Bronze Age are continually learning. I have discussed in all nineteen examples of a particular point. This point is literary, and it is in literature that whatever proof can be found exists. It would be dangerous to estimate even what percentage of the art of their particular period is comprised by the few pieces of evidence herein cited, and I would be surprised to find that in each case more than a minor percentage of the existing art supported the precise connection of narrative and simile subject. My intent is to note several occasions when the artist thought like his literary colleague.

It is readily admitted that there was no constraint as binding as meter which drove the artist to resort to traditional motifs or even to create a unity that can be perceived today. Conviction in these interpretations can only arise from viewing the individual work of each artist as a conscious effort to make a statement in his own medium; some artists may, at varied times and in different cities, have drawn on the folk traditions known by many men to express their thoughts. Ultimately, of course, each work of art must be judged in itself; in its composition, in its subject, and in its effect.

That some pertinent works of art have come from the later part of the sixth century and from varied locations should not militate against the comparison of their evidence with that of an epic of the eighth century B.C. First there is evidence in the existence of the mysterious Homeridae that there was some sort of continuation of the Homeric poems. Second, the stories of Lycurgus and Peisistratus show that there was considerable authority in the Homeric poems in various parts of the Greek world down to the beginning of the fifth century. Plato's rhapsode Ion is further testimony to the eagerness of people for the familiar old words. Most decisively, it was the living quality of the Homeric tradition in the hearts of men which compelled Plato to fight so strenuously against poetry's widely corrupting effect in his new state. There is then ample evidence that the Homeric songs lived on in continuing vigor among the people of the Greek world into the 5th century and beyond.

But the most important reason for continuing this study of the Homeric similes far beyond the actual composition of the Iliad and the Odyssey is the nature of the topic. Neither the epic poems nor the specific art works are the actual objects of discussion since this study is directed toward the tradition which underlies both poetry and visual art. Such a tradition cannot be dated precisely because it is carried on for an indeterminate length of time by an amorphous mass of people, commonly referred to as the "audience" in Homeric criticism or the "viewer" in art criticism. Audience and viewer are really the same man at any particular point.

And it is this group, the "audience", to whom the poet so diligently catered. The glimpses of Phemius and Demodocus and, in addition, our first-hand knowledge of Yugoslav bards reveal that the aim of oral poets is communication with and entertainment of their audiences. There is little room in such societies for the individualistic poet who expresses his own feelings in a personal language with scant concern for his audience. The whole technique of oral poetry—the familiar story from legend, the type scenes, ring composition, foreshadowing, retrospection, and many other features—were devices by which the poet avoided losing his audience.[26] The vast majority of the formulae, both the simpler ones like the noun- epithet combinations and the more complex type-scenes with their variations, were an aid not only to the poet who arranged them and altered them as he composed but also to his audience. They did not need to listen to the subtleties of each phrase but could concentrate on the movement from block to block and could appreciate the variation because of their intimate knowledge of the more traditional phrasing. The audience were the critics who had to be satisfied since they hired the poet and could dispense with him brusquely. Because of the importance of this audience's insistence on a good story told to a relentless meter, there would have been little reward for innovation, and, in fact, there is much danger for a poet in becoming entangled in complications which would prevent his audience from following the story. There is, then, in both audience and poet a natural tendency toward conservatism: toward the old legends told in the old way. The audience was as much a supporter of the oral tradition as the various singers who practiced the art.

This is a statement of extreme importance. The oral tradition is not only maintained by generation after generation of practicing poets, but it is also continuously imposed by the audience. Such limitation may hamper the poet who wishes to create freely, but it is an indispensable aid to the poet who will create within the tradition. The whole technique of slight variation on a type scene depends on the audience's close knowledge of the standard form. The "Game of Analogy" is not a game played privately by the poet, because the audience raised on the oral tradition would also appreciate the virtuosity of the poet.[27] There is a total background of epic words, epic phrases, and epic stories and values which have been built into the audience as they have into the growing and maturing poet. As one critic puts it:

"Both the audience and the poet of the oral literatures are bound to the past by invisible complex ties which bind the audience, the oral poet, and the traditional material into an intimate trinity. The poet and the audience are intimately related to their traditional material by ties that are not formally manifest in the story".[28]

One small part of this tradition shared between poet and audience is seen in the study of the traditional nature of the similes. Both poet and audience would have been acquainted not only with the type of simile which the poet chose to sing at various moments in the narrative, but also with the alternate methods for continuing the story which the poet had passed over. Both would be accustomed to repeated simile subjects in certain narrative contexts and would appreciate the implicit comment when a subject was used in an unusual context; for example, there is a type of subsidiary statement of character being made when the poet compares the anxious Penelope to a lion (Od. 4.791). These two choices—placement and subject matter—were made by the poet in accordance with the tradition quite often, and the audience was fully aware of the fact that the poet had so chosen. The poet could always develop the simile in whatever way seemed appropriate to him, and the audience would be more able to follow and appreciate such variation because of their intimate acquaintance with the tradition. In doing so the individual members of the audience were drawing upon experiences ingrained from childhood. Poet and audience, each in his own way, participated in the combined creation of the oral song.

Folk tradition can cover a wide area. Even though this study has focused on the simile, which is a small component of heroic verse, the implications are extensive. A traditional art of any kind is based in a broad understanding of folk culture, but this is especially true of the traditional art of story-telling which inevitably comments upon all facets of life, attitude, and value of a people. J. A. Notopoulos draws a modern parallel:

. . . the traditional oral art is only natural and inevitable for an oral society whose life is traditional. The poet, his art, his audience, are part of it. A modern Greek villager lives, as we have seen, completely in a world of formulae, exhibited in his poetry, in his music, the patterns in a girl's weaving of her dowry, in the ikons, in all social, agricultural, and religions patterns of life . . . The formula is both a linguistic and sociological phenomenon. It is imposed on the form of the poem both from within the poet and from without by his audience.[29]

It is such a tradition which lies at the roots of the pairing techniques which appear to be similar in oral art and visual art from Mycenean times down to the Archaic Age, though it is very difficult to find convincing independent evidence for many of the features of the epic. Regarding the selection of simile subjects there are several art objects which show artists of various periods drawing on the knowledge of the folk tradition possessed by themselves and by their viewers. That they did not do this consistently is unfortunate for the Homerist but familiar to anyone who has attempted to define with any precision the connections between art and literature in the general cultural trends of a period.

From the contributions of two further areas external to more direct studies of the Iliad and the Odyssey it is possible to formulate a more consistent and unified conception of the developing tradition which lies at the root of the Homeric simile:

- A. Studies of Language: G. P. Shipp in his book, The Language of Homer, comes to the following conclusion: "The similes of the Iliad and the Odyssey are characterized by linguistic lateness. Late forms occur much more frequently in them than in the narrative, and archaisms are hardly found. More than half the similes of any length include late forms, and no significant difference is observable between the similes of different parts of the poem".[30]

- B. Studies of Oral Formulae: J. B. Hainsworth has written: "Supposing each bard replaced 20% of his formulae in his lifetime, and if there are fifty years between master and pupil, then in the latter half of the eighth century only about 15% of his formulae would reach back into the Mycenaean age".[31]

In support of this statement the study of A. Hoekstra offers evidence that the formulae were being revamped at a more intense rate toward the period when the poems were sung.[32]

Such arguments focusing on the language and phrasing of the poems in general and the similes in particular demonstrate a recent formulation of the individual additive lines and the individual features of each simile, though there is strong indication in art works that standard connections were made by artists from the Mycenaean period down to the time of Homer. That artists widely spread throughout the Aegean world could draw upon this tradition is evidence that the tradition had spread quite broadly and deeply into the hearts and minds of the people of Greece. It seems that the phrasing of each simile may often be new, but the idea of the simile as a means of expression, its placement, its subject matter, and the connection of that subject matter to various scenes in the epic were quite old and had probably become traditional from centuries and centuries of oral story telling.

The members of the audience remain the most important figures in any study of tradition both in the restrictions which they place upon the poet and in the advantage their special type of knowledge offers to the poet. In the fullest degree, it is their tradition. The poet shares it by birthright, but he does not own it. When he composed his similes, he was drawing upon a tradition formed by singers and their audiences through countless generations. Most probably Homer himself and his contemporaries left their mark upon this continuing tradition, but that particular mark cannot be identified with any certainty. The weight and the influence of the oral tradition was so massive that innovations or additions made by any one poet—even an incandescently brilliant poet like Homer—were absorbed into the anonymity of the inherited poetic conglomerate. It is this indissoluble blending of the new with the very old which underlies the composition of the similes, and it is this method of composition which allows us to speak of the oral nature of the Homeric simile.

When the analysis of the similes has ended and all conclusions have been drawn, even the most dedicated admirers of individual images must admit that these small pictures are but a minor part of the Homeric poet's consideration. What simile—even in its most intricate and sensitive development—could be an achievement equal to the portrayal of Achilles or Odysseus? What simile could have the emotional impact of the wondrous meeting of Priam and Achilles or the tender parting of Hector and Andromache? The simile is a well-defined, independent unit which can be admired for its many virtues, but it is the joining of simile and narrative which gives reciprocal life to both elements. It is perhaps effective to say that a warrior is like a lion, or a fire, or a bird, or a tree; but if he is not initially like a warrior, then he is really nothing at all. The aim of the poet is to subject the traditional form of the simile to the narrative so thoroughly that the two form one poetic whole. If the simile is removed, the narrative is deprived of luster and the simile loses its majesty. To separate the two is impossible if the poet knows his craft well. As a friend of Prof. Bassett is reported to have said, "To gather the similes apart from their setting is like abstracting the plums from a pudding".[33]

Notes—Chapter 6

1. Among recent works, H. L. Lorimer, Homer and the Monuments (London 1950) and the chapters on material culture by A. J. B. Wace, H. P. Wace, and F. H. Stubbings in A. J. B. Wace and F. H. Stubbings, A Companion to Homer (London 1962).

2. See A. Furumark, "Nestor's Cup and the Mycenaean Dove Goblet, Eranos 44 (1946), pp. 41-53 for a discussion of the lack of connection between the cup in the poem and the cup from the Shaft Grave.

3. Hampe, p. 26 ff. Cf. K. Friis Johansen, The Iliad in Early Greek Art (Copenhagen 1967); he cites scenes taken from the Iliad in dating the spreading awareness of the Iliad story.

4. See G. S. Kirk, "Objective Dating Criteria in Homer," in Language and Background of Homer (Cambridge 1964), pp. 174-190 for cautionary advice on dating various objects in Homer.

5. Lorimer op. cit. (supra, n. 1), pp. 181-2.

6. J. A. Notopoulos, "Parataxis in Homer: A New Approach to Homeric Literary Criticism," TAPhA 80 (1949), pp. 1-23 discusses the necessary concentration of the poet and his audience on the development of the immediate story: "neither the poet nor his audience can divert their attention for any period of time to the whole; they cannot pause to analyze, compare, and relate parts to the whole" (15).

7. F. Winter, "Parallelerscheinungen in der griechischen Dichtkunst und bildenden Kunst," in Gercke-Norden, Einleitung in die Altertumswissenschaft (Leipzig and Berlin 1910) II, p. 161 ff.

8. W. Schadewaldt, "Die Homerische Gleichniswelt und die Kretisch-Mykenische Kunst," in Von Homers Welt und Werk (4th ed.; Stuttgart 1965), pp. 130-154.

9. Cf. Snell, p. 7 where he compares the way a modem child and an early Greek artist draw a man. He then draws a conclusion about the early Greeks by comparing their art and their speech: "Thus the early Greeks did not, either in their language or in the visual arts, grasp the body as a unit." See also J. L. Myres, "The Last Book of the Iliad," JHS 52 (1932), pp. 264-296 and "Homeric Art," BSA 45 (1950), pp. 229-260, and Webster, pp. 187-207, 259-265.

10. Homerists desperately need the type of study which has been done by D. Whitelock, The Audience of Beowulf (Oxford 1951); evidence, however, of the kind that was available for her study which has long since perished for the years when Homer composed.

11. See supra, Chapter 3.

12. This is a broad statement made for presenting clearly the type of art work required in this study. I must acknowledge that there are important exceptions in Rhodian ware, Proto-Corinthian, Corinthian, and Geometric pottery.

13. Hampe, pp. 33-4 offers an example of this kind of connection in commenting on the decoration of a vase: "Sowohl auf der Wagenfahrt im Haupt- fries als auch auf der Fuchshatz darunter, bilden die Füllmotive, so belanglos sie als solche erscheinen, ein wesentliches Element der Bildwirkung. Sie helfen, die Vorstellung von Geschwindigkeit, Bewegung und Erregung zu steigern, erzeugen mit den Figuren zusammen einen unauflöslichen Gesamt-eindruck. Wir konnten verwandte Symptome auch bei den homerischen Gleichnissen feststellen. Es lieft über solchen Bildern das, was man für die Gleichnisse mit "Stimmung" oder "Stimmungsgehalt" auszudrücken suchte, womit etwas Richtiges gekennzeichnet war, wenn man dabei nicht an Stimmung im romantischen Sinne denkt."

14. Represented in Marinatos and Hirmer, Crete and Mycenae (London 1960), plates XXXV-XXXVII.

15. Cf. G. E. Mylonas, Mycenae and the Mycenaean Age (Princeton 1966), pp. 173-76.

16. A. W. Persson, "Legende und Mythos in ihrem Verhältnis zu Bild und Gleichnis im vorgeschichtlichen Griechenland," DRAGMA (Lund 1939), p. 379 ff.

17. Pictured in Marinatos-Hirmer op. cit. (supra, n. 14), Figure 146.

18. G. E. Mylonas, "The Figured Mycenaean Stelai," AJA 55 (1951), pp.134-147.

19. See note on page 176.

19. Webster, p. 224. Cf. A. W. Persson, New Tombs at Dendra Near Midea (Lund 1942), p. 189.

20. See supra, p. 77.

21. M. P. Nilsson, Geschichte der griechischen Religion (3rd ed.; Munich 1967), I, pp. 290-92 and plates 10 and 11. See also Webster, p. 224.

22. Mylonas op. cit. (supra, n. 15), p. 176.

23. R. M. Cook, Greek Painted Pottery (London 1960), pp. 138-9.

24. E. Pfuhl, Malerei und Zeichnung der Griechen (Munich 1923), I, p. 166.

25. Pfuhl op. cit. (supra, n. 24), p. 169.

26. For discussion of these techniques and their effectiveness in guiding the audience see: G. E. Duckworth, Foreshadowing and Suspense in the Epics of Homer, Apollonius, and Vergil (Princeton 1933); B. A. van Groningen, "Éléments Inorganiques dans la Composition de l'Iliade et de l'Odyssée,' Revue des Études Homériques 5 (1935), pp. 3-24; J. A. Notopoulos, "Continuity and Interconnexion in Homeric Oral Composition," TAPhA 82 (1951), pp. 81-101 ; and A. B. Lord, The Singer of Tales (Cambridge 1960).

27. Parry, pp. 221-227.

28. Notopoulos op. cit. (supra, n. 26), p. 99.

29. J. A. Notopoulos, "Studies in Early Greek Oral Poetry," HSCP 68 (1964), pp. 1-77 on page 53. See also his article "The Generic and Oral Composition in Homer," TAPhA 81 (1950), pp. 28-36.

30. Shipp, p. 208.

31. J. B. Hainsworth, "The Homeric Formula and the Problem of Its Transmission," BICS 9 (1962), pp. 57-68 on page 66.

32. A. Hoekstra, Homeric Modifications of Formulaic Prototypes (Amsterdam 1965). But see also the cautionary statements in reviews by W. McLeod in Phoenix 20 (1966), pp. 332-40 and G.S. Kirk in Gnomon 38 (1966), pp. 737-40.

33. S. E. Bassett, "The Function of the Homeric Simile," TAPhA 52 (1921), p. 132.

APPENDIX

A CLASSIFICATION OF THE SIMILES BY

LOCATION AND SUBJECT MATTER

Column One lists the context in which the simile is placed using the following abbreviations of section headings from Chapter 2 where categories are discussed more fully:

1. The Journeys of Gods—Journey

2. Measurement—Measure

3. Actions of Divine Beings, Spirits, and Monsters—Unusual

4. Themes of Specific Emotions—Psychological

5. Variation of Standard Themes—Variation

6. General Scenes of the Armies —Army

7. Summary Scenes before Battle—Summary

8. Entrance of the Hero—Entrance

9. Withdrawal of the Hero—Withdrawal

10. Anticipated Meetings—Meeting

11. Joining of Two Scenes—Join

12. Emphasis in Short Episodes—Emphasis

13. Emphasis on Continuing Motifs—Event

14. Similes in Speeches—Speech

Column Two classifies the similes by subject matter and the context in which the simile occurs using the following abbreviations from section heads in Chapter 3 where these categories are discussed more fully:

1. Lion Similes—Lion

2. Wind and Sea Similes—Wind

3. Fire Similes—Fire

4. Gods and Goddesses—God

5. Tree Similes—Tree

6. Wolf Similes—Wolf

7. Deer Similes—Deer

8. Stele Similes—Stele

9. Diver Similes—Diver

10. Hunting Similes—Hunt

11. Similes of Children—Child

12. Swarms of Insects—Insect

13. Fish Similes—Fish

14. River Similes—River

15. Bird Similes—Bird

16. Farm Animal Similes—Animal

Similes

Column I

Column II

Iliad, Book 1

47

Journey

104

Psychological

Fire

Anger

265

Variation

God

Enter battle

Summary

Speech

359

Journey

Iliad, Book 2

87

Army

Insect

Number

144

Army

Wind

Movement

147

Army

Wind

Movement

209

Army

Wind

Noise

289

Speech

Child

Unwarlike

Army

337

Speech

Child

Unwarlike

Army

394

Army

Wind

Noise

455

Summary

Fire

Gleam

459

Summary

Bird

About to attack

Measure

468

Summary

Flowers,

Number

Measure

etc.

469

Summary

Insects

Number

Measure

474

Summary

478

Summary

God

Enter battle

480

Summary

Animal

754

764

Measure

Bird

780

Summary

Fire

Fighting warriors

781

Summary

Fire

Fighting warriors

800

Speech

Leaves,

Number

Measure

etc.

872

Variation

Child

Unwarlike

Iliad, Book 3

2-3

Summary

Bird

Enter battle

10

Summary

23

Psychological

Lion

Emotion: joy

Meeting

33

Psychological

Meeting

60

Speech

151

Entrance

196-7

Speech

Animal

Variation

222

Speech

Snow

230

Speech

God

Variation

449

Entrance

Iliad, Book 4

75

Journey

Fire

God

130

Unusual

Child

Protection

141

Withdrawal

243

Speech

Deer

Fear

Army

253

Summary

Lion

Warlike spirit

Variation

275

Summary

Variation

277

Measure

394

Summary

God

Enter battle

422

Summary

Wind

Movement

433

Summary

Animal

x

452

Army

River

462

Variation

Tower

471

Army

Wolf

Attack

482

Variation

Tree

Dead

Iliad, Book 5

5

Entrance

Fire

Gleam

87

Entrance

River

Sweep

136

Entrance

Lion

Fighting warrior

161

Variation

Lion

Fighting warrior

299

Meeting

Lion

Fighting warrior

438

Unusual

God

Attack

459

Unusual

God

Attack

Speech

476

Speech

Lion

Fighting warrior

Army

487

Speech

Fish

Dead

499

Army

Wind

522

Army

Wind

Lack of movement

554

Variation

Lion

Fighting warriors

560

Variation

Tree

Dead

597

Unusual

River

Sweep

Army

770

Measure

Journey

778

Unusual

Bird

God

782

Army

Lion

Fighting warriors

860

Unusual

Measure

864

Journey

884

Speech

God

Attack

Unusual

902

Unusual

Measure

Iliad, Book 6

295

Measure

Fire

Gleam

401

Entrance

Fire

Worth

506

Entrance

Animal

Enter battle

513

Entrance

Fire

Gleam

Iliad, Book 7

4

Entrance

Wind

Emotion: relief

59

Unusual

Bird

God

63

Army

Wind

Movement

208

Entrance

God

Enter battle

219

Entrance

Tower

235

Speech

Child

Unwarlike

256

Lion

Fighting warriors

Iliad, Book 8

131

Army

Animal

271

Entrance

Child

Protection

305

Entrance

God

Enter narrative

306

Army

Animal

338

Army

Hunt

Pursuit and attack

555

Army

Fire

Gleam

Iliad, Book 9

4

Psychological

Wind

Emotion: confusion

Army

14

Psychological

323

Speech

Bird

481

Speech

Family

Iliad, Book 10

5

Psychological

154

Variation

Fire

Gleam

183

Army

Animal

297

Entrance

Lion

Fighting warriors

351

Measure

Animal

Enter battle

360

Meeting

Hunt

Pursuit and attack

437

Speech

Wind

Movement

Measure

485

Army

Lion

Fighting warrior

547

Speech

Fire

Worth

Unusual

Iliad, Book 11

27

Entrance

60

Summary

God

Enter battle

62

Summary

Fire

Fighting warrior

66

Summary

Fire

Gleam

67

Army

72

Army

Wolf

Attack

113

Variation

Lion

Fighting warrior

129

Variation

Lion

Fighting warrior

147

155

Army

Fire

Fighting warrior

172

Army

Lion

Fighting warrior

237

239

Variation

Lion

Fighting warrior

269

Withdrawal

292

Entrance

Hunt

Pursuit

295

Entrance

God

Enter battle

297

Entrance

Wind

Attack

305

Army

Wind

Attack

324

Entrance

Lion

Fighting warriors

383

Speed 1

Lion

Fighting warriors

389

Speech

Child

Unwarlike

414

Army

Lion

Fighting warrior

474

Army

Lion

Fighting warrior

Entrance

485

Entrance

Tower

492

Army

River

Destructive sweep

546

Join

548

Join

Lion

Emotion: stubbornness

558

Join

Animal

596

Army

Fire

Fighting warriors

604

Entrance

God

Enter

638

Entrance

God

Enter

747

Speech

Wind

Attack

Entrance

Iliad, Book 12

40

Army

Wind

Attack

Entrance

41

Army

Lion

Emotion : warlike spirit

Entrance

130

Entrance

God

Enter battle

132

Entrance

Trees

Unmoving

146

Entrance

Lion

Fighting warriors

156

Army

Snow

167

Speech

Insect

Ferocity

Army

278

Army

Snow

293

Entrance

Lion

Fighting warrior

299

Entrance

Lion

Fighting warrior

375

Army

Wind

Movement

385

Variation

Diver

Falling man

421

Army

433

Army

451

Event

463

Event

Iliad, Book 13

39

Army

Fire

Fighting warriors: Noise

Wind

Movement: Noise

53

Speech

Fire

Fighting warrior

62

Unusual

Bird

God

101

Speech

Deer

Fear

Army

137

Army

178

Variation

Tree

Dead

198

Emphasis

Lion

Fighting warrior

242

Entrance

Fire

Gleam

292

Speech

Child

Unwarlike

298

Entrance

God

Enter

330

Entrance

Fire

Fighting warrior

334

Army

Wind

Movement

389

Variation

Tree

Dead

437

Unusual

Stele

Unmoving

Tree

Unmoving

470

Child

Unwarlike

471

Lion

Fighting warrior

492

Army

Animal

531

Bird

Attack

564

Unusual

571

Variation

Animal

Dead warrior

588

654

Variation

673

Army

Fire

Fighting warriors

688

Army

Fire

Fighting warrior

703

Army

Animal

754

Mountain

795

Summary

Wind

Movement

802

Summary

God

Enter

Iliad, Book 14

16

Psychological

Wind

Emotion: confusion

148

Unusual

185

Unusual

Fire

Gleam

290

Unusual

Bird

God

386

Unusual

Fire

Gleam

394

Army

Wind

Noise

396

Army

Fire

Noise

398

Army

Wind

Noise

413

Withdrawal

414

Withdrawal

Tree

Wounded warrior

499

Iliad, Book 15

80

Journey

170

Journey

Snow

237

Journey

Bird

God

263

Entrance

Animal

Enter battle

271

Army

Lion

Fighting warrior

323

Army

Lion

Fighting warriors

358

Measure

362

Unusual

Child

381

Army

Wind

Movement

410

Army

579

Emphasis

Hunt

Pursuit and attack

586

Emphasis

592

Army

Lion

Fighting warriors

605

Unusual

God

Fighting warrior

Fire

Fighting warrior

618

Army

Wind

Unmoving

624

Army

Wind

Emotion: confusion

630

Army

Lion

Fighting warrior

679

Join

690

Join

Bird

Attack

Iliad, Book 16

3

Psychological

Entrance

7

Speech

Child

Unwarlike

Psychological

156

Summary

Wolf

About to enter battle

192

Summary

Family

Variation

212

Summary

259

Army

Insect

Ferocity

Summary

297

Army

352

Army

Wolf

Attack

364

Army

384

Meeting

River

406

Fish

Kill

428

Meeting

Bird

Enter battle

482

Meeting

Tree

Dead

Variation

487

Meeting

Lion

Fighting warrior

582

Entrance

Bird

Attack

589

Measure

633

Army

641

Army

Insect

Number

705

Unusual

God

Attack

742

Variation

Diver

Falling man

752

Meeting

Lion

Fighting warrior

756

Meeting

Lion

Fighting warrior

765

Army

Wind

Movement

786

Army

God

Attack

823

Meeting

Lion

Fighting warriors

Iliad, Book 17

4

Entrance

Animal

20

Speech

Lion

Fighting warrior

53

Variation

Tree

Dead

61

Army

Lion

Fighting warrior

88

Entrance

Fire

Fighting warrior &

Gleam

109

Withdrawal

Lion

Emotion : stubbornness

128

Entrance

Tower

133

Entrance

Lion

Fighting warrior

263

Summary

Wind

Noise

Army

281

Army

Lion

Fighting warrior

366

Army

Fire

Fighting warriors

389

Army

434

Stele

Unmoving

460

Entrance

Bird

Attack

520

Variation

Animal

542

Lion

Physical appearance

547

Journey

657

Withdrawal

Lion

Emotion: stubbornness

674

Withdrawal

Bird

725

Join

Lion

Fighting warrior

737

Join

Fire

Fighting warriors

742

Join

Animal

747

Join

River

Fighting army

755

Join

Bird

Attack

Iliad, Book 18

I

Army

Fire

Fighting warriors

56

Speech

Tree

Dead

57

Speech

Tree

Dead

110

Speech

Fire

Anger

154

Join

Fire

Fighting warrior

161

Join

Lion

Fighting warrior

207

Unusual

Fire

Gleam

219

Unusual

318

Psychological

Lion

Emotion : warlike spirit

437

Speech

Tree

Dead

438

Speech

Tree

Dead

600

616

Journey

Bird

God

Iliad, Book 19

17

Psychological

Fire

Anger

282

Entrance

God

Entrance

286

Entrance

God

Entrance

350

Journey

Bird

God

357

Army

Snow

366

Psychological

Fire

Anger

374

Entrance

Fire

Gleam

375

Entrance

Fire

Gleam

381

Entrance

Fire

Gleam

386

Entrance

398

Entrance

Fire

Gleam

God

Enter battle

Iliad, Book 20

46

Entrance

God

Enter battle

51

Unusual

Wind

164

Meeting

Lion

Fighting warrior

200

Speech

Child

Unwarlike

244

Speech

Child

Unwarlike

252

Speech

Meeting

371

Speech

Fire

Fighting warrior

403

Variation

Animal

423

Meeting

Fire

Fighting warrior

431

Speech

Child

Unwarlike

447

Unusual

God

Attack

490

Army

Fire

Fighting warrior

493

Army

God

Attack

495

Army

Animal

Iliad, Book 21

12

Army

Fire

Fighting warrior

18

Army

God

Attack

22

Army

Fish

Kill

29

Event

Deer

Fear

227

Army

God

Attack

237

Unusual

Animal

251

Measure

252

Unusual

Bird

257

Unusual

282

Speech

Child

Unwarlike

346

Unusual

Wind

362

Unusual

464

Speech

Leaves, etc.

493

Journey

Bird

God

493

Unusual

Bird

God

522

Army

Fire

Fighting warrior

573

Unusual

573

Entrance

Iliad, Book 22

I

Army

Deer

Fear

22

Meeting

Animal

26

Meeting

Fire

Gleam

93

Meeting

127

Speech

132

Entrance

God

Enter battle

Meeting

134

Meeting

Fire

Gleam

139

Meeting

Bird

Attack

150

Fire

151

Snow

162

Meeting

Animal

189

Meeting

Hunt

Pursuit

199

Meeting

262

Speech

Lion

Wolf

308

Meeting

Bird

Attack

317

Meeting

Fire

Gleam

Iliad, Book 23

100

Unusual

222

Event

366

Army

Wind

431

Measure

455

Measure

Fire

Gleam

517

Measure

Animal

598

Psychological

692

Fish

712

760

Measure

845

Measure

Iliad, Book 24

41

Speech

Lion

Emotion : warlike spirit

Psychological

80

Journey

317

Measure

480

Psychological

572

Lion

Emotion : warlike spirit

699

Entrance

God

Enter

Odyssey, Book 1

308

Speech

Family

320

Journey

Bird

God

371

Speech

God

Odyssey, Book 2

5

Entrance

God

Enter

47

Speech

Family

234

Speech

Family

Odyssey, Book 3

290

Measure

Mountain

372

Journey

Bird

God

468

Entrance

God

Enter

Odyssey, Book 4

32

Speech

Child

Ineptitude

45

Fire

Gleam

122

Entrance

God

Enter

310

Entrance

God

Enter

335

Speech

Lion

Fighting warrior

413

Unusual

535

Event

Animal

662

Psychological

Fire

Anger

791

Psychological

Lion

Odyssey, Book 5

12

Speech

Family

51

Journey

Bird

God

249

Measure

281

328

Unusual

Wind

337

Journey

Bird

God

353

Journey

Bird

God

368

Unusual

Wind

371

Unusual

Animal

394

Psychological

Family

432

488

Join

Fire

Warrior

Odyssey, Book 6

16

Entrance

God

Enter

20

Journey

Wind

102

Meeting

God

Enter

130

Meeting

Lion

Warrior

231

Unusual

Hyacinth

232

Unusual

309

Entrance

God

Enter

Odyssey, Book 7

5

Entrance

God

Enter

36

Speech

Bird

Measure

84

Fire

Gleam

106

Variation

Leaves

291

Speech

God

Enter

Entrance

Odyssey, Book 8

14

Speech

God

Enter

Entrance

115

Summary

God

Enter

124

Measure

Animal

174

Speech

God

Variation

280

Unusual

518

Entrance

God

Enter

523

Psychological

Odyssey, Book 9

4

Speech

God

Measure

Leaves, etc

191

Unusual

Mountain

289

Unusual

292

Unusual

Lion

Warriorlike

314

Unusual

322

Measure

384

Unusual

391

Unusual

473

Measure

Odyssey, Book 10

113

Measure

Mountain

Unusual

124

Unusual

Fish

Dead

216

Unusual

Animal

Speech

304

Unusual

410

Psychological

Animal

Odyssey, Book 11

222

Unusual

243

Measure

Mountain

368

Speech

411

Event

Animal

413

Event

Animal

605

Unusual

Bird

606

Unusual

Odyssey, Book 12

86

Measure

Speech

181

Measure

237

Unusual

251

Unusual

Fish

Kill

413

Unusual

Diver

Falling man

418

Unusual

Bird

433

Unusual

Odyssey, Book 13

31

Psychological

81

Animal

Odyssey, Book 14

21

Emphasis

175

Speech

Tree

Dead

308

Unusual

Bird

476

Odyssey, Book 15

108

Measure

Fire

Gleam

152

Speech

Family

414

Entrance

God

Enter

479

Bird

Odyssey, Book 16

17

Meeting

Family

216

Meeting

Bird

Odyssey, Book 17

37

Entrance

God

Enter

111

Speech

Family

126

Speech

Lion

Fighting warrior

397

Speech

Family

463

518

Meeting

Odyssey, Book 18

27

Speech

29

Speech

193

Unusual

240

Speech

296

Variation

Fire

Gleam

Odyssey, Book 19

39

Speech

Fire

Gleam

Unusual

54

Entrance

God

Enter

109

Speech

205

Psychological

Snow

Meeting

211

Psychological

Meeting

233

Speech

Emphasis

234

Speech

Fire

Gleam

Emphasis

494

Speech

518

Speech

Psychological

574

Speech

Odyssey, Book 20

14

Psychological

Animal

25

Psychological

Odyssey, Book 21

14

Entrance

God

Enter

37

Entrance

God

Enter

48

Event

Animal

406

Event

411

Event

Bird

Odyssey, Book 22

240

Unusual

Bird

God

299

Army

Animal

302

Army

Bird

Attack

384

Army

Fish

Dead

402

Army

Lion

Physical appearance

468

Bird

Odyssey, Book 23

(48

Speech

Lion

Physical appearance)

158

Unusual

Meeting

159

Unusual

Meeting

163

Entrance

God

Enter

Meeting

191

Speech

Measure

233

Psychological

Meeting

Odyssey, Book 24

6

Unusual

148

Speech

Fire

Gleam

Measure

371

Unusual

God

538

Entrance

Bird

Attack

BOOKS CITED BY AUTHOR'S NAME

IN THE TEXT AND NOTES

Coffey, Michael. "The Function of the Homeric Simile", AJP 78 (1957) 113-132.

De Velsen, Arthur. De Comparationibus Homericis (Berlin 1849).

Fränkel, Hermann. Die homerischen Gleichnisse (Göttingen 1921).

Hampe, Roland. Die Gleichnisse Homers und die Bildkunst seiner Zeit (Tubingen 1952).

Leaf, Walter, ed. The Iliad (2nd ed.: London 1900-2).

Lee, D. J. N. The Similes of the Iliad and the Odyssey Compared (Melbourne 1964).

Müller, Friedrich. "Das homerische Gleichnis," Neue Jahrbücher fur Antike und deutsche Bildung 5/6 (1941) 175-83.

Murray, Gilbert. The Rise of the Greek Epic (4th ed.: New York 1960).

Parry, Milman. L'Épithète Traditionnelle dans Homère (Paris 1928); now available in translation along with Parry's other writings in The Making of Homeric Verse (Oxford 1971), edited by Adam Parry.

Shipp, G. P. Studies in the Language of Homer (2nd ed.: Cambridge 1972).

Snell, Bruno. The Discovery of the Mind (Eng. translation by T. G. Rosenmeyer: Cambridge, Mass. 1953).

Webster, Thomas B. L. From Mycenae to Homer (London 1958).

Whitman, Cedric H. Homer and the Heroic Tradition (Cambridge, Mass. 1958).

INDEX OF PASSAGES CITED IN THE TEXT

Each simile is listed separately by the number of the first line of the simile unit. There are no references to the list of similes in the Appendix.

1.47:

12, 17

1.57:

144

1.103 f.:

30

1.104:

29, 31, 68

1.262 ff.:

36

1.265:

40

1.359:

12, 17

2.87:

35, 75, 92, 104

2.144:

35, 63, 64, 65, 92, 104

2.147:

35, 65, 92, 104

2.209:

35, 63, 64, 65, 92, 102 n., 104

2.231:

137 n.

2.289:

50, 74, 104

2.337:

74, 104

2.394:

35, 64, 65, 92, 104

2.455:

37, 66, 92, 104

2.455 ff.:

2

2.459:

21, 37, 78, 92, 102, 104, 155

2.468:

21, 37, 81, 92, 104

2.469:

21, 37, 75, 92, 104

2.474:

37, 104

2.478:

37, 69

2.480:

37, 79, 104, 178

2.740 ff.:

104 n.

2.764:

22, 78, 156

2.780:

37, 67, 104

2.781:

37, 104

2.793:

102 n.

2.800:

50, 81, 104

2.814:

103 n.

2.872:

31, 74, 96

3.2:

37, 78, 102, 104, 104 n., 106, 156, 157 n.

3.4:

144

3.10:

37, 64, 82, 104, 104 n., 106

3.23:

43, 61, 106, 154

3.33:

29, 43, 106

3.151:

40, 105, 106

3.196:

32, 105, 106

3.I97:

32, 105, 106

3.222:

81, 106

3.374:

16

3.447 ff.:

106

3.449:

41

4.75 ff.:

99

4.130:

25, 74, 112

4.141:

41, 112

4.219:

137 n.

4.240 ff.:

142

4.243:

50, 72, 143 n.

4.244:

145

4.244 ff.:

148

4.246:

143, 143 n.

4.253:

32, 61

4.275:

32, 64, 100

4.277:

22

4.391 ff.:

36

4.422:

38, 64, 109

4.433:

38, 80, 109

4.452:

76, 77, 109

4.462:

81, 97

4.471:

71, 110 n.

4.482:

70, 109

5.5:

39, 94, 110

5.37 ff.:

13

5.87:

39, 76, 94, 137 n.

5.136:

39, 60, 61, 94

5.144 ff.:

33

5.161:

60, 73 n., 129 n.

5.299:

44, 61

5.438:

26

5.459:

26

5.476:

50

5.487:

75

5.493 ff.:

35 n.

5.499:

64, 65, 82

5.522:

64, 65

5.527:

66, 66 n.

5.554:

62, 73 n.

5.560:

70

5.590 ff.:

76 n.

5.597:

76, 145

5.677 ff.:

33

5.693:

103 n.

5.705 ff.:

33

5.719 ff.:

18

5.746:

137 n.

5.770:

17, 24

5.782:

52, 62, 129, 132

5.860:

22, 25, 26, 52, 81, 129, 132

5.864:

17, 64

5.884:

26

5.902:

22, 25

6.29:

104 n.

6.293:

22 n.

6.294:

22 n.

6.295:

22, 67, 96

6.296:

22 n.

6.347:

102 n.

6.401:

40, 68

6.506:

6, 40, 52, 80, 104, i20, 131, 138

6.513:

40

7.4:

40, 104

7.59:

25

7.63:

35,65

7.208:

39, 69

7.219:

39, 81

7.256:

52, 129, 132

8.41:

18, 19

8.41 ff.:

18, 20 n.

8.229 ff.:

152

8.271:

40, 74, 111

8.300 ff.:

32

8.306:

82, 111, 159

8.307:

160

8.309 ff.:

32

8.338:

73, 73 n.

8.382 ff.:

18

8.390:

137 n.

8.438:

19

8.489 ff.:

103 n.

8.555:

9, 98, 102

9.4:

9, 64, 98

9.8:

66

9.14:

6, 104, 130, 131

9.182:

102 n.

9.323:

78, 105

9.434:

146

10.5:

29, 68, 07, 100, 155

10.75 ff.:

32

10.154:

32, 100

10.160:

102 n.

10.184 ff.:

160

10.199:

103 n.

10.261 ff.:

167

10.297:

62, 73 n., 90, 94, 182

10.351:

83

10.360:

73, 155, I78

10.415:

102 n.

10.485:

60

10.507 ff.:

104 n.

10.547:

50, 68

11.27:

39, 100

11.56:

102 n.

11.60:

37

11.62:

37, 67, 100

11.66:

37, 100

11.67:

109

11.72:

71, 110 n.

11.85:

22, 109

11.113:

60, 105, 106 n., 175

11.129:

129 n., 141 n.

11.147:

82

11.155:

35, 67, 91, 101, 105, 106 n.

11.166 ff.:

103 n.

11.172:

60, 91, 105, 106 n.

11.172 ff.:

174

11.192:

70 n.

11.195 ff.:

104 n.

11.237:

97

11.269:

41, 105

11.291 ff.:

73 n.

11.292:

41, 73

11.295:

41

11.297:

64

11.305:

64

11.324:

60, 111 n., 129 n.

11.383:

50, 111 n.

11.414:

73, 111 n.

11.474:

61 n., 111 n.

11.485:

81

11.492:

76

11.544:

111 n.

11.546:

46, 111, 111 n., 157

11.548:

46, 52, 61, 111, 111 n., 129, 131, 132, 139, 149, 150, 157

11.549:

136

11.558:

46, 111, 111 n.

11.575 ff.:

46 n.

11.613 ff.:

40 n.

11.630 ff.:

167

11.638:

40 n.

11.747:

64, 92, 120

11.804 ff.:

46 n.

12.2 ff.:

46 n.

12.3:

112 n.

12.37:

112 n., 113

12.41:

59, 61, 61 n., 73

12.132:

70, 105, 113

12.146:

104

12.156:

81

12.166:

102 n.

12.167:

75, 104

12.173 ff.:

112 n.

12.200 ff.:

98 n.

12.252 ff.:

112 n.

12.278:

81, 96, 113, 156

12.280 ff.:

156 n.

12.290 ff.:

39, 112 n.

12.298 ff.:

39

12.299:

61, 90, 94

12.371:

102 n.

12.375:

113

12.385:

72, 96

12.402 ff.:

112 n.

12.413 ff.:

107

12.421:

35, 107

12.433:

107

12.437 ff.:

112 n.

12.451:

49, 112, 112 n.

12.463:

49

13.1 ff.:

112 n.

13.23:

18

13.23 ff.:

18, 20 n.

13.39:

63, 67, 91

13.53:

87 n.

13.101:

72, 143

13.169 ff.:

47

13.178:

47, 70

13.195:

47 n.

13.198:

47, 47 n., 73 n.

13.330:

67, 89

13.334:

63, 64, 109

13.334 ff.:

63 n.

13.389:

52, 70, 129, 132, 155

13.437:

25, 70, 72, 91

13.455 ff.:

108

13.470:

74, 108

13.471:

61, 73 n., 108

13.492:

80, 102, 109, 137 n.

13.564:

25

13.571:

79

13.641:

48

13.703:

80

13.754:

81

13.798:

102 n.

14.16:

30, 64, 100

14.148:

25, 26, 52, 81, 129, 732

14.185:

25, 67

14.244 ff.:

18

14.264:

146

14.290:

25

14.386:

25

14.394:

63, 64, 153

14.394 ff.:

91

14.396:

67, 153

14.398:

63, 153

14.413:

41, 82, 97

14.414:

41, 71

15.67:

44

15.80:

17

15.168 ff.:

17

15.170:

81

15.262 ff.:

34, 105

15.263:

6, 28, 34, 34 n., 41, 52, 80, 104, 129, 131, 138

15.271:

34, 59, 73 n., 154

15.272:

136

15.323:

34

15.358:

34, 34 n.

15.362:

25, 34, 34 n., 74, 112 n.

15.363:

144

15.381:

34, 63, 102

15.390 ff.:

46 n.

15.410:

34, 35, 108

15.490:

146

15.545:

48

15.552 ff.:

48

15.568 ff.:

48

15.569:

137 n.

15.579:

48, 73, 92

15.583:

48

15.586:

48

15.605:

25, 67, 91, 155

15.615 ff.:

113

15.618:

60, 64, 111

15.622:

66, 66 n.

15.623:

111

15.624:

64, 102, 111, 137 n.

15.629:

66

15.630:

60, 111

15.679:

46, 82, 11

15.690:

46, 111, 155

16.3:

6, 104, 130, 131

16.7:

74, 104

16.114 ff.:

46

16.130 ff.:

136 n.

16.141:

137 n.

16.141 ff.:

136 n.

16.143:

137 n.

16.152 ff.:

116 n.

16.155:

125

16.156:

38, 54 n., 61 n., 71, 110, 110 n.

16.212:

38

16.259:

38, 75, 110, 157

16.259 ff.:

158

16.263:

158

16.297:

114

16.352:

71, 110 n.

16.364:

114

16.384:

43, 76, 114, 155

16.385 ff.:

156 n.

16.406:

75, 161

16.428:

43

16.482:

43, 52, 70, 12q, 132, T55

16.487:

43

16.582:

78

16.589:

21, 81, 155

16.630 ff.:

75 n.

16.632 ff.:

108

16.640 ff.:

116 n.

16.641:

75, 75 n., 108

16.644 ff.:

99 n.

16.676 ff.:

16 n.

16.685 ff.:

17 n.

16.686:

99 n.

16.705:

26, 69

16.742:

72

16.752:

43

16.756:

43

16.763 ff.:

63 n.

16.786:

69

16.802:

137 n.

16.823:

43, 181

17.4:

40, 79, 108 n.

17.20 ff.:

177

17-53:

71

17-61:

35

17.88:

40

17.109:

42

17.128:

81

17.133:

40, 61

17.281:

35, 59, 89, 129 n.

17.366 ff.:

108

17.389:

35, 108

17.434:

72

17.460:

78

17.542:

62

17.547:

100, 155

17-549:

97

17.657:

42, 52, 62, 129, 131, 132, 139, 149, 150

17.658:

151

17.674:

42, 78

17.722 ff.:

73 n., 107 n.

17.725:

45

17-737:

45, 67

17.742:

45, 80, 107 n., 155

17.747:

45, 76

17.755:

45

18.22 ff.:

30

18.35 ff.:

115 n.

18.55 ff.:

152

18.56:

51, 71, 114, 115

18.57:

51. 71, 114, 115

18.110:

68

18.134 ff.:

114

18.154:

45, 89

18.161:

45

18.170 ff.:

114

18.188 ff.:

114

18.207:

114

18.219:

114

18.318:

61, 61 n., 114

18.336 f.:

49 n.

18.410 ff.:

26

18.437:

51, 71, 115

18.438:

51, 71, 115

18.463:

146

18.616:

12, 115

19.17:

30, 68, 115

19.282:

41, 69

19.286:

41, 69

19.350:

115

19.357:

81

19.362 ff.:

110

19.366:

29, 30, 68, 115

19.367 ff.:

136 n.

19.374:

39, 115

19.374 ff.:

119

19.375:

39, 101, 104, 110, 115, 116

19.381:

39, 115

19.388 ff.:

136 n.

19.398:

39, 66, 115

20.46:

69

20.164:

44, 61, 116, 141 n., 147 n., 156

20.187 ff.:

44

20.252:

51

20.371:

67, 116

20.403:

79, 116

20.423:

43, 87 n.

20.447:

26

20.490:

67, 116

20.495:

82, 117

21.1:

117

21.7:

117

21.12:

67, 116

21.17:

117

21.22:

35, 75, 116

21.26 ff.:

148

21.29:

49, 72, 142, 143 n., 148

21.162:

137 n.

21.227:

69

21.237:

25, 82

21.252:

26, 78, 116

21.257:

26, 117

21.282:

74. 117

21.342 ff.:

25

21.346:

25, 117 n.

21.362:

25, 117 n.

21.493:

17

21.573:

177

22.1:

72, 142, 143, 149

22.22:

43, 80, 117

22.26:

43, 100, 116

22.93:

43, 116

22.132:

43, 69

22.134:

43, 116, 155

22.138:

92

22.139:

43, 116

22.145 ff.:

118

22.162:

43, 117

22.189:

43, 116

22.199:

43

22.258:

48

22.308:

43, 116, 155

22.137:

15, 117

23.59:

102 n.

23.100:

27

23.175:

50 n.

23.222:

50

23.366:

64

23.382 ff.:

15

23.455:

22, 67

23.475:

145

23.517:

21

23.517ff.:

160

23.521:

145

23.598:

29

23.668:

137 n.

23.692:

75

23.760:

83

23.845:

21

24.41:

61, 119

24.42 ff.:

152

24.46 ff.:

120

24.80:

18, 119

24.93 ff.:

18 n.

24.317:

21

24.340:

18

24.340 ff.:

19

24.349:

102 n.

24.471 ff.:

38

24.572:

61, 119

24.699:

69

Od. 1.96:

18

Od. 1.96 ff.:

19

Od. 1.308:

51, 123

Od. 1.320:

12, 77, 77 n., 176

Od. 2.5:

40, 69, 00, 94

Od. 2.47:

123

Od. 2.234:

123

Od. 3.290:

21, 81, 121

Od. 3.372:

77, 176

Od. 3.468:

40, 69

Od. 4.32:

74

Od. 4.45:

67, 121

Od. 4.122:

40, 69

Od. 4.310:

40, 69, 90, 94

Od. 4.335:

52, 68, 122, 129, 132, 161

Od. 4.413:

25

Od. 4.535:

50, 79, 122

Od. 4.022:

31

Od. 4.661 f.:

30

Od. 4.662:

68

Od. 4.715 ff.:

30

Od. 4.791:

31, 62, 123, 186

Od. 5.12:

123

Od. 5.44:

18

Od. 5.44 ff.:

19

Od. 5.51:

18

Od. 5.59 ff.:

26

Od. 5.328:

82

Od. 5.368:

25

Od. 5.371:

26, 96

Od. 5.394:

29. 123

Od. 5.448:

98

Od. 5.488:

49

Od. 6.16:

69

Od. 6.20:

12

Od. 6.102;

42, 69, 121

Od. 6.130:

42, 62, 90, 94, 121,

Od. 6.157:

71 n.

Od. 6.162:

71 n.

Od. 6.231:

121

Od. 6.232:

25, 26, 52, 121, 129, 131

Od. 6.309:

69

Od. 7.36:

50, 78

Od. 7.78:

18 n.

Od. 7.84:

67, 121

Od. 8.518:

69

Od. 8.523:

123

Od. 9.51:

21, 81

Od. 9.190:

190

Od. 9.190 ff.:

23

Od. 9.191:

81

Od. 9.289:

27, 80, 123 n.

Od. 9.292:

27, 123 n.

Od. 9.314:

27

Od. 9.322:

22

Od. 9.384:

27

Od. 9.391:

27, 82

Od. 10.113:

22, 27, 81, 121

Od. 10.124:

27, 75

Od. 10.216:

25, 80

Od. 10.304:

25

Od. 10.410:

80

Od. 11.243:

21, 81, 121

Od. 11.411:

50, 79, 122

Od. 11.413:

50, 122, 155, 161

Od. 11.605:

78

Od. 12.251:

75

Od. 12.413:

72

Od. 12.418:

26, 78

Od. 12.433:

26

Od. 13.81:

80

Od. 14.21:

48

Od. 14.175:

71

Od. 14.308:

26, 78

Od. 15.106:

22 n.

Od. 15.107:

22 n.

Od. 15.108:

22, 67

Od. 15.109:

22 n.

Od. 15.479:

78

Od. 16.17:

42, 123

Od. 16.216:

30, 43, 79, 123

Od. 17.111:

123

Od. 17.126:

52, 122, 129, 132, 161

Od. 18.193:

25, 26

Od. 18.296:

31, 67, 121

Od. 19.54:

43, 69

Od. 19.109:

156

Od. 19.205:

29, 43, 81

Od. 19.211:

43

Od. 19.233:

48

Od. 19.234:

48, 67, 121

Od. 19.518:

31, 123

Od. 20.14:

29, 80, 122

Od. 20.25:

31

Od. 21.14:

40

Od. 21.37:

40

Od. 21.48:

49, 122

Od. 21.406:

49, 122

Od. 21.411:

49, 79, 122

Od. 22.240:

25

Od. 22.299:

26, 35, 122

Od. 22.302:

35, 78, 122

Od. 22.384:

36, 75, 122

Od. 22.402:

36, 62, 73 n., 122, 123

Od. 22.468:

79, 122

Od. 23.158:

122

Od. 23.159:

52, 122, 129, 131

Od. 23.233:

29, 122

Od. 24.6:

27

Od. 24.148:

22, 67, 121

Od. 24.392:

143, 143 n.

Od. 24.538:

78

Table of Contents

About

Title Page

Copyright

Contents

Preface

Postscript

Chapter I

Chapter II

I. Similes Joined to Themes

1. The Journeys of Gods

2. Measurement

3. Actions of Divine Beings

3a. Actions of Spirits and Monsters

4. Themes of Specific Emotions

5. Similes for Variation of Standard Themes

6. General Scenes of the Armies

7. Summary Senes before Battle

8. Entrance of the Hero

9. Withdrawal of the Hero

II. Similes as Poetic Technique

1. Emphasis on Anticipated Meetings

2. The Joining of Two Scenes

3. Emphasis in Short Episodes

4. Emphasis of Continusing Motifs throughout the Larger Narrative

III. Similes in Speeches

Conclusion: The Placement of the Similes

III. The Traditional Poet II: The Subject Matter of the Similes

1. The Lion Similes

2. Wind and Sea Similes

3. Fire Similes

4. Gods and Goddesses

5. Tree Similes

6. Wolf Similes

7. Deer Similes

8. Stele Similes

9. Diver Similes

10. Hunting Similes

11. Similes of Children

12. Swarms of Insects

13. Fish Similes

14. River Similes

15. Bird Similes

16. Farm Animal Similes

17. Fragments of Evidence for the Tradition

18. Similes from Outside the Tradition

Conclusion: Tradition and Subject Matter

IV. The Oral Composer: The Extended Simile

I. The Similes of the Iliad

1. Preparing for new Action

2. War and Peace

3. Peace in War

4. Series of Similes

5. The Aristeia of Achilles

II. The Similes of the Odyssey

V. The Oral Composition of the Similes

I. Homer's Repeated Similes

II. Methods of Extending the Simile

III. Conclusion: The Language of the Sm

VI. The Homeric Simile and the Oral Tradition

I. The Relationship between Art and Poetry

1. Mycenaean Art and Its Precursors

2. Proto-Attic Pottery

3. Clazomenian Sarcophagi

II. The Audience and Oral Tradition

Appendix: A Classification of the Similes by Location and Subject Matter

Books cited by Author's Name

Index