The following essay is written as a companion to a lecture series in the Myths of Greece and Rome course at the University at Albany by Daniel Gremmler. It follows the translation and line numbering of The Essential Iliad (Hackett, 2000) and The Essential Homer (Hackett, 2000).
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Book 6 is split between scenes on the battlefield and inside the walls of Troy. On the Battlefield, Diomedes and Glaucus prepare to square off, giving rise to a renewed discussion of the roles ancestry and xenia play in society. Meanwhile, Hector returns to Troy to fetch Paris and ask the Trojans to pray to the gods. This occasions him to speak with his mother (Hecuba), his sister-in-law (Helen), and his wife (Andromache). He also shames Paris again. Each of these conversations reveals or affirms cultural values, and we will analyze them in that regard.
Recall from previous books that xenia is the law of hospitality or guest-friendship; it is sacred to Zeus; and it is the religious justification for the Trojan War.
Hector departs the battlefield early in Book 6, leaving the Greeks and Trojans to battle back and forth while he retrieves his wayward brother from within city. It is during this milieu that Diomedes and Glaucus cross paths. Before the impending fight, Diomedes addresses Glaucus:
“And which mortal hero are you? I’ve never seen you
Out here before on the fields of glory.
And now here you are ahead of everyone,
Ready to face my spear. Pretty bold.
I feel sorry for your parents. Of course,
You may be an immortal, down from heaven.
Far be it from me to fight an immortal god.
[….]
No, I wouldn’t want to fight an immortal.
But if you are human, and shed blood,
Step right up for a quick end to your life.” (124-46)
Diomedes’ question both reaffirms the relationship between gods and humans that was established in Book 5 and signals the end of the extraordinary gifts Athena bestowed upon the hero at that time. Diomedes does not recognize Glaucus; he has not seen this opponent across the battle lines in the prior nine years of the war. Thus, he suspects that the new face may be a god in disguise. In the elided portion of the passage, Diomedes narrates the folly of humans striving against gods in much the same lesson that Dione spoke when consoling Aphrodite in Book 5. Why, however, would Diomedes need to ask whether Glaucus is god or man? The answer is that the mist Athena removed from his eyes in Book 5 has been restored. Diomedes is unable to discern gods from humans, but he knows better than to pit himself against a god.
Glaucus’ long-winded reply traces his lineage ostensibly to prove that he is a human, but it is valuable for other reasons: it emphasizes the importance of ancestry to individual identity and continues to flesh-out the underlying rationale for heroic activity. Let’s analyze the opening of his speech:
“Great son of Tydeus, why ask about my lineage?
Human generations are like leaves in their seasons.
The wind blows them to the ground, but the tree
Sprouts new ones when spring comes again.
Men too. Their generations come and go.
But if you really do want to hear my story,
You’re welcome to listen. Many men know it.” (148-54)
Individual life is ephemeral, like leaves on a tree, we are born and die and replaced by other leaves. The trunk, representing the family in this metaphor, is built of sturdier stuff, and with each new season or flowering, the ephemeral leaves enjoy a symbiotic relationship with the trunk. They are given life by the trunk, but they also convert light energy to sustain and contribute to the prosperity of tree. In other words, the individual comes and goes, but a family can stand for centuries. Thus, the work that the individual does on the battlefield feeds the greatness of the family just as the family’s own excellence has put him in position to reach greater heights.
Glaucus then narrates the history of his house, and we learn that he is a Lycian lord, allies who came to the defense of Troy when called upon.[1] Furthermore, Glaucus is a descendant of Bellerophon, a son of Poseidon who tamed the winged horse Pegasos and slew the monstrous Chimera, among other heroic deeds.
Laconian black-figure kylix (c. 570-565 BCE), attributed to the Boreads Painter. J. Paul Getty Museum 85.AE.121.
"Bellerophon battles the monstrous Chimaera, a fire-breathing creature that combines elements of a lion, a snake, and a goat. In most depictions of this myth, a favorite among Greek artists in the 600s and early 500s B.C., Bellerophon rides Pegasos, his winged horse, but here he has dismounted, still holding the reins. While Pegasos strikes at the Chimaera with his hooves, Bellerophon spears the monster from underneath."[2]
Bellerophon was Glaucus’ grandfather, according to Glaucus in the Iliad Book 6.
We rejoin his narrative near its end:
“But Hippolochus
Bore me, and I am proud he is my father.
He sent me to Troy with strict instructions
To be the best ever, better than all the rest,
And not to bring shame on the race of my fathers,
The noblest men in Ephyra and Lycia.
This, I am proud to say, is my lineage.” (211-17)
In Book 1, we noted a tension between Achilles and Agamemnon over what constituted the “best of the Achaeans” and how such a thing was defined.[3] During Book 5, Diomedes was called the “best of the Achaeans” by Dione (5.443). This was fitting; for Diomedes certainly was the best of the Achaeans on the day of his aristeia. Such greatness, Glaucus suggests, is the goal for all heroes, and in the cases of both Diomedes and Glaucus, it is tied to one’s ancestry: Athena didn’t simply bestow strength upon Diomedes in Book 5. She said, “I have put into your heart your father’s heroic temper, the fearless fighting spirit of Tydeus the horseman, Tydeus the Shield” (5.141-4). The “strength and courage” that Athena put into Diomedes was that of his own father and grandfather. As Seth Benardete points out, “Diomedes as an individual is weak, but as the son of his father he is irresistible. Not in himself but in his lineage, of which he is very conscious, resides most of his own greatness” (37).[4] This relationship between the hero and his ancestors is the cultural norm in the Iliad.
The power of family does not end here. It is intertwined with xenia, as Diomedes explains:
Diomedes grinned when he heard all this.
He planted his spear in the bounteous earth
And spoke gently to the Lycian prince: “We have old ties of hospitality [xenia]!
My grandfather Oeneus long ago
Entertained Bellerophon in his halls
For twenty days, and they gave each other
Gifts of friendship [xenia]. Oeneus gave
A belt bright with scarlet, and Bellerophon
A golden cup, which I left at home.
I don’t remember my father Tydeus,
Since I was very small when he left for Thebes
In the war that killed so many Achaeans.
But that makes me your friend and you my guest [xenia]
If ever you come to Argos, as you are my friend
And I your guest whenever I travel to Lycia.
So we cannot cross spears with each other
Even in the thick of battle. There are enough
Trojans and allies for me to kill, whomever
A god gives me and I can run down myself.
And enough Greeks for you to kill as you can.
And let’s exchange armor, so everyone will know
That we are friends from our fathers’ days.” (218-40, emphasis added)
The bond of xenia is so important in Homeric culture that Diomedes and Glaucus declare themselves guest-friends because their grandparents once hosted each other. Diomedes never knew his father, let alone bore witness to the friendship of Oeneus and Bellerophon, but that does not matter. The two heroes stand on opposing sides of a bitter war, and rather than fight to the death, they exchange armor, declaring their friendship for all to see. To return to Glaucus’ earlier metaphor, the trunk is what is important, what will endure. It is the trunk (family) by which these heroes identify themselves, and if the trunks share xenia, then so too must the leaves.
The narrative shifts from Glaucus and Diomedes on the battlefield to follow Hector back to Troy. The ostensible reason for Hector’s return is twofold: 1) fetch Paris, and bring him back to the battlefield; 2) encourage the women and elders of Troy to pray for favor from the gods in defense of their city. Over the course of these tasks, Hector speaks with his mother (Hecuba), his brother (Paris), his sister-in-law (Helen), and his wife (Andromache) holding their child (Astyanax). These are the only sustained interactions between a warrior and his family in the poem. Thus, they provide unique insight into family life in a poem consumed by scenes on the battlefield.
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Trojan wives and daughters ran up to him,
Asking about their children, their brothers,
Their kinsmen, their husbands. He told them all,
Each woman in turn, to pray to the gods. (247-50)
He continues into the palace where he encounters his mother, Hecuba, and they engage in a similar but more nuanced discussion:
“Hector, my son, why have you left the war
And come here? Are those abominable Greeks
Wearing you down in the fighting outside,
And does your heart lead you to our acropolis
To stretch your hands upward to Zeus?
But stay here while I get you
Some honey-sweet wine, so you can pour a libation
To Father Zeus first and the other immortals,
Then enjoy some yourself, if you will drink.
Wine greatly bolsters a weary man’s spirits,
And you are weary from defending your kinsmen.” (263-73)
Hecuba’s lines are straightforward and telling. She recognizes immediately why Hector has returned: to encourage the people of Troy to pray to the gods. She then goes on to describe in some detail how he should go about this, pouring libations. In libation, as with sacrifice, an offering is made to the god and then the remainder is consumed by the people. Hecuba suggests that Hector do this to placate the gods and because it would give him a respite. Finally, she notes that his weariness is caused by his actions in defending his kinsmen.[5] In other words, Hector struggles because of duty to his family and city who are, likewise, “his.” In this way, Hector and Aeneas are cut from the same cloth; they both act with a deep sense of pietas, to borrow Virgil’s Latin terminology. Hector’s reply reinforces this characterization:
“Mother, don’t offer me any wine.
It would drain the power out of my limbs.
I have too much reverence to pour a libation
With unwashed hands to Zeus almighty,
Or to pray to Cronion in the black cloudbanks
Spattered with blood and the filth of battle.
But you must go to the War Goddess’ temple
To make sacrifice with a band of old women.” (275-82)
Hector refuses the wine because, while it may dull his pain, it will also dull his wits. It is the latter reason that draws our attention: Hector has “too much reverence” to honor Zeus inappropriately. Here, we see the modern connotation of piety, religious duty, but even more to the point, Hector cares to do things the right way. The emphasis on proper action connected to duty is a theme that follows Hector throughout his interactions in Book 6.Sample text. Click to select the text box. Click again or double click to start editing the text.
With the women of Troy now attempting to assuage Athena’s wrath with prayer and sacrifice, Hector makes his way to Paris’ apartments where he finds his errant brother in the company of Helen. The discussion that ensues is eerily similar to the brothers’ exchange in Book 3 when Paris failed to meet cultural expectations and shrunk away from battle with Menelaus:
Hector meant to shame Paris and provoke him:
“This is a fine time to be nursing your anger,
You idiot! We’re dying out there defending the walls.
It’s because of you the city is in this hellish war.
If you saw someone else holding back from combat
You’d pick a fight with him yourself. Now get up
Before the whole city goes up in flames!” (341-7)
Paris has once again violated a cultural norm, this time by retreating from his duel with Menelaus and sleeping with Helen instead of returning to the battlefield. The transgression is further compounded by the fact that his misdeed is the cause of the war and its devastation. Paris’ reply to Hector’s duty-minded remonstrations should also ring familiar:
“That’s no more than just, Hector,
But listen now to what I have to say.
It’s not out of anger or spite toward the Trojans
I’ve been here in my room. I only wanted
To recover from my pain. My wife was just now
Encouraging me to get up and fight,
And that seems the better thing to do.
Victory takes turns with men. Wait for me
While I put on my armor, or go on ahead –
I’m pretty sure I’ll catch up with you.” (349-58)
As was the case in Book 3, Paris acknowledges that he belongs on the battlefield, and Hector’s reasoning is correct; it is “just.” Note that Paris mentions the encouragement of Helen in coming to this decision. Paris has acted inappropriately in the rape of Helen and then again in flight from the duel with Menelaus.[6] At this point, the poem has established Paris as a character who aspires to act dutifully – he can be shamed into making the “right” decision – but there is a certain deficiency of character that requires external course correction, be it from Hector or Helen.
Helen reinforces this deficiency in Paris’ character when she speaks to Hector:
“Brother-in-law
Of a scheming, cold-blooded bitch,
I wish that on the day my mother bore me
A windstorm had swept me away to a mountain
Or into the waves of the restless sea,
Swept me away before all this could happen.
But since the gods have ordained these evils,
Why couldn’t I be the wife of a better man,
One sensitive at least to repeated reproaches?
Paris has never had an ounce of good sense
And never will. He’ll pay for it someday.
But come inside and sit down on this chair,
Dear brother-in-law. You bear such a burden
For my wanton ways and Paris’ witlessness.
Zeus has placed this evil fate on us so that
In time to come poets will sing of us.” (361-76)
“Paris has never had an ounce of good sense and never will.” He is insensitive “to repeated reproaches.” He is “witless.” Helen is not without reproach herself. As we’ve seen in her interactions with Priam and Aphrodite, Helen is deeply ashamed of her affair with Paris and the war it has caused. She is filled with self-loathing, referring to herself as a “cold-blooded bitch” and lamenting her very birth. But she is in a different position from Paris. She is torn between duty to Menelaus and duty to Paris. And even in that set of conflicting imperatives, Aphrodite has overtly steered her course, forcing her to go to Paris. Helen’s duty as a woman, lover, and wife condition her to be passive, work the loom, tend to the household, and succor her man. Paris, on the other hand, is expected to be active, assertive. His duty is to act, but he constantly fails to do so. He needs to be steered to perform his duty, first by his brother and then his wife.
Paris’ character is juxtaposed with Hector’s in the latter’s reply to Helen:
“Don’t ask me to sit, Helen, even though
You love me. You will never persuade me.
My heart is out there with our fighting men.
They already feel my absence from battle.
Just get Paris moving, and have him hurry
So he can catch up with me while I’m still
Inside the city. I’m going to my house now
To see my family, my wife and my boy. I don’t know
Whether I’ll ever be back to see them again, or if
The gods will destroy me at the hands of the Greeks.” (378-93)
Hector’s “heart is out there” with the soldiers of Troy. They need him, and he is deeply compelled to help them: “They already feel my absence from the battle.” Once again, he turns to Helen to motivate Paris, who finds himself in a situation where Hector would be self-motivated. “Just get Paris moving,” Hector says. He then leaves Paris and Helen to it and visits his own wife and child while Paris makes ready. Twice, now, Hector has been offered convenience or leisure (first by Hecuba and now Helen), and twice he has refused it in service to duty, be it to the gods (refusal to pour libations incorrectly), or his kinsmen/soldiers (rush to return to the battlefield).
The contrast between Hector and Paris that we find in Book 6 is reinforced by a poignant 6th century black-figure vase painting:
Chalcidian black-figure from Vulci attributed to the Inscription Painter (c. 540-530 BCE). Würzburg L 160.
"The contrast between the relationship of Helen and Paris sketched in the third book of the Iliad and that of Hector and Andromache in the sixth book impressed the Inscription Painter to juxtapose the two couples on a black-figure bowl.” [7]
Susan Woodford notes that Helen (left) has "turned her back on Paris who chases after her wearing the light armor of an archer while Andromache faces Hector who stands erect, “the epitome of a heavily-armored warrior.”
Photo: ArchaiOptix
(CC BY-SA 4.0)
The final interaction that we analyze in Book 6 is the most moving, both for its sentimentality and for its clear depiction of the heroic ethos. Hector finds Andromache atop the walls of Troy with their baby, Astyanax. When Hector reaches her, she pleads with him to remain safely behind the walls of Troy, making a rational argument worthy of 5th century oratory:
“Possessed is what you are, Hector. Your courage
Is going to kill you, and you have no feeling left
For your little boy or for me, the luckless woman
Who will soon be your widow. It won’t be long
Before the whole Greek army swarms and kills you.
And when they do, it will be better for me
To sink into the earth. When I lose you, Hector,
There will be nothing left, no one to turn to,
Only pain.” (427-35).
Apulian red-figure column crater (c. 370-360 BCE)
"An intimate family scene: Hector removes his helmet as he says his final farewell to his wife Andromache and to their child Astyanax."[8]
This is likely a 4th century artist’s interpretation of a scene from Book 6 of the Iliad.
The plea goes on to describe the way in which Andromache’s other family members are already gone – her maiden family destroyed by the Greeks, especially Achilles. She then foreshadows the horror that comes of women and children who are taken prisoner in war or live on without a patriarch.[9] Hector listens intently to all of this and then replies:
“Yes, Andromache, I worry about all this myself,
But my shame before the Trojans and their wives,
With their long robes trailing, would be too terrible
If I hung back from battle like a coward.
And my heart won’t let me. I have learned to be
One of the best, to fight in Troy’s first ranks,
Defending my father’s honor and my own.” (463-9).
It all comes together here: shame & honor, cowardice & courage, duty & family. They are inexorably intertwined within Hector’s thumos (“heart” or spirit). Book 6 presents him as the idealized specimen of Homeric heroism. For Game of Thrones fans, Hector is the Iliad’s version of Jon Snow: he embodies all of society’s positive virtues, but he’s also trapped by them. This gets Jon Snow assassinated, and, as Andromache predicts, will get Hector killed – but that’s not for many books to come. Let us review just how all these virtues coalesce in the person of Hector.
The poem has clearly established some fundamental differences between Hector and Paris. Hector is decisive where Paris is not. They are both motivated by a system of honor and shame, but Hector never feels shame whereas Paris often fails to act honorably first and only takes honorable action after being shamed. It is often Hector who shames him. Thus, Paris requires others to regularly correct his course of action. This passage suggests that shame also motivates Hector, but it’s the fear of feeling shame, which is enough to guide Hector away from shameful action. The shame in question is that of cowardice. In the society of the Iliad, courage is rewarded with honor, and cowardice is punished with shame. A second difference between the two princes, then, is that Hector is courageous and Paris…less so.
Hector then ties the idea of proper action (expressed as courage and rewarded with honor) to family or ancestry. Once again, we return to Glaucus’ directives from his father: “He sent me to Troy with strict instructions to be the best ever, better than all the rest, and not to bring shame on the race of my fathers” (211-15). Likewise, Hector: “I have learned to be one of the best, to fight in Troy’s first ranks, defending my father’s honor and my own.” From birth, Glaucus and Hector are conditioned to strive to be the best, the best warriors in this case, which above all else means the most courageous. Recall the gift Athena gave to Diomedes in Book 5: “I have put into your heart your father’s heroic temper, the fearless fighting spirit of Tydeus” (5.141-3). All three instances speak of heroic courage, the will and strength of heart to fight – which is not to be shamed a coward. And this strength of heart is connected explicitly to one’s father, one’s ancestry. We return yet again to Glaucus’ tree metaphor: the wind blows leaves all over. They are powerless against it, but the trunk anchors the branches and the leaves. It provides stability. Hector has taken the metaphor that Athena imposed magically (bestowing the strength of his ancestry upon Diomedes) and put it in human terms: his family has bred him, trained and conditioned him to fight with such courage in service to gods, kin, and country.
The emphasis on lineage (the trunk) and its role in the construction of heroic identity is immediately reinforced when Hector picks up his child, Astyanax:
With these words, resplendent Hector
Reached for his child, who shrank back screaming
Into his nurse’s bosom, terrified of his father’s
Bronze-encased face and the horsehair plume
He saw nodding down from the helmet’s crest.
This forced a laugh from his father and mother,
And Hector removed the helmet from his head
And set it on the ground all shimmering with light
Then he kissed his dear son. (491-99)
Astyanax is a newborn. He has not yet “learned to be one of the best, to fight in Troy’s first ranks, defending [his] father’s honor and [his] own.” It is a touching scene between father, mother, and son. It is the only scene of such intimacy between family members in an epic focused on the battlefield. But more importantly, it reinforces the theme of the Book, established by Diomedes and Glaucus, and exemplified at every turn by Hector: heroic identity derives from, and works in service to, filial duty (Virgil’s pietas). As the narrative continues, Hector attempts to bridge the generations:
“Zeus and all gods: grant that this my son
Become, as I am, foremost among Trojans,
Brave and strong, and ruling Ilion with might.
And my men say he is far better than his father
When he returns from war, bearing bloody spoils,
Having killed his man. And may his mother rejoice.” (501-6)
Like Hippolochus (Glaucus’s father), Hector demands greatness of his son. This is the start of his conditioning, training Astyanax to lead men into battle, pursuing honor, and avoiding shame.
Hector’s departing words to Andromache encapsulate the Homeric world view:
“You worry too much about me, Andromache.
No one is going to send me to Hades before my time,
And no man has ever escaped his fate, rich or poor,
Coward or hero, once born into this world.
Go back to the house now and take care of your work,
The loom and the shuttle, and tell the servants
To get on with their jobs. War is the work of men,[10]
Of all the Trojan men, and mine especially.” (511-18)
Fate, enforced by Zeus, is the ordering principle of the universe, not human will. In Greek, the term for fate doubles as a word meaning “death” or “destined end” as well as “correct.” Death is always the fate for humans. That’s why we are mortals, literally “those who die.” Andromache’s wish to keep Hector away from the battle is an attempt to prevent his death, but Hector assures her that such a thing is not possible. It would, however, rob him of his heroic, ancestral identity. And that identity makes risking his life in battle, pursing honor and avoiding shame, the most important duty in the life of Hector, son of Priam, prince of Troy, and leader of its armies.[11] The care Zeus will take in Book 16 to ensure his son, Sarpedon, receives a burial in his homeland and surrounded by his community, affirms Hector’s character and rationale as the Homeric ideal as well as making him a foil for the most psychologically complex of mythic heroes, Achilles.
[1] Modern fantasy aficionados might liken them to the riders of Rohan in The Lord of the Rings who responded to the summons of aid from Gondor, thus honoring their alliance with the larger, fortified ally.
[2] J. Paul Getty Museum 85.AE.121.
[3] Nestor’s intervention in Book 1 crystalizes the arguments of the two Greek champions.
[4] Achilles and Hector: The Homeric Hero. 2nd ed., St. Augustine, 2005.
[5] Kinsmen literally “those who are yours” or “belong to you.”
[6] The fact that Aphrodite intervened in either action in immaterial in terms of his culpability in the eyes of society, despite his protest to the contrary in Book 3.
[7] Susan Woodford. The Trojan War in Ancient Art. Cornell UP, 1993.
[8] Caption by Gregory Nagy in A sampling of comments on Iliad Rhapsody 6. Classical Inquiries.
[9] This very scenario will occur, and 5th century tragedies survive to tell the story of Trojan women taken captive at the sack of Troy.
[10] The gendering here is, perhaps, too obvious to mention, but it again reinforces the roles of men and women in Homeric society.
[11] Leaders lead in warrior societies. As we shall see in Book 11, Agamemnon is not nearly the inept glutton that Achilles and Thersites characterize him to be in Books 1 and 2.