Skip to main content

The Iliad and Memory: The Platypus Reads Part CLXXIII

Throughout the Iliad, Homer invokes the aid of the muses to help him to recall and tell all the splendid deeds of Trojans and Achaians before the walls of wind-swept Troy.  The most moving of these comes early on where the bard declares: And now, O Muses, dwellers in the mansions of Olympus, tell me- for you are goddesses and are in all places so that you see all things, while we know nothing but the report... (Book II Samuel Butler Trans.).  The sense of loss and futility is almost palpable.  Here we are reminded that the Greeks constituted themselves as a culture of forgetting; that memory is something that belongs to the gods while mere rumor belongs to men.  Elsewhere, Glaukos tells Diomedes that his genealogy is irrelevant since the generations of the sons of men are no more than leaves blown away by an Autumn wind.  The great fear that Achilles wrestles with is one of memory: is it worth a life of pain and an early death in order to be remembered?

This crisis of memory did not end with Homer.  In the classical era, Plato's Timaeus has an Egyptian priest tell Solon, wisest of the sages of Greece, that Greeks are ever children since they have no memory, a disaster always comes and wipes away the knowledge of former times.  That disaster for both Homer and Plato is the collapse of the Mycenaean world.  With the near total collapse of Mycenaean society and the attendant loss of writing, the Greeks lost access to their own history in a way that made them unique among the "civilized" people of the Eastern Mediterranean.  The Egyptians, Assyrians, Babylonians, and Jews all appeared to the Greeks to have weathered the chaos of the late Bronze Age and come through with written records and traditions intact.  This wealth of ancient wisdom posed a crisis of confidence for the Greeks as they rebuilt their culture out of the ashes.  How could they be assured without the benefit of tradition and long experience that their ways (nomoi) were right a proper?  Herodotus inquired and Plato sought for timeless Forms.

This difference of approach gives a distinct flavor to Homer that is intentionally absent in writings of the Classical Era even as they inherit, unquestioned, the Homeric problem.  The great minds of Athens and Ionia believed that human ingenuity could solve the issues caused by the loss of memory.  Philosophy and ethnography could supply what was missing and assure the Greeks that they could build a Just city in more than words (see how Plato combines philosophy, ethnography, and the "noble lie" in his Republic, Timaeus, and Critias).  Homer revels in the cunning (metis) of the human intellect, but distrusts it as well.  After all, what rational basis did the Ancient Greeks have for believing that the mind could accurately grasp reality?  How much of Plato's work is under-girded by "noble lies" that cover over the dark pits of nihilism so that the philosophical project can go on undisturbed?  Homer confronts this problem head-on and appeals to the gods, since they were there, to grant him miraculous access to the past, knowing full well that the gods lie.  The backwash of futility and ambiguity from this state of affairs floods into every crack and corner of the poem.  That distinct flavor of the Iliad can ironically be summed up in the words of the magi in Daniel: only the gods can grant what the king asks, and they do not dwell among men.

*Prior Iliad musing from this read-through can be found here.  Francois Hartog's Memories of Odysseus has also been influential in bringing the issues of memory and otherness as facets of Greek thought to mind, especially chapter two, Egyptian Voyages.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Platypus Reads Part XXVII

Thoughts after reading the "Iliad" to prepare a Greece unit for my students: -Hector is a jerk until he's dead. He even advocates the exposure of Achaean corpses and then has the cheek to turn around and ask Achilles to spare his. He rudely ignores Polydamas' prophecies and fights outside the gate to save his pride knowing full well what it will cost his family and city. After he's dead, he becomes a martyr for the cause. -Agamemnon has several moments of true leadership to balance out his pettiness. In this way, he's a haunting foil to Achilles: the two men are more alike than they want to acknowledge. -We see that Achilles is the better man at the funeral games of Patroclos. His lordliness, tact, and generosity there give us a window into Achilles before his fight with Agamemnon and the death of Patroclos consumed him. -Nestor is a boring, rambling, old man who's better days are far behind him, and yet every Achaean treats him with the upmo...

California's Gods: Strange Platypus(es)

We've noticed lately a strange Californian dialectical twist: there, freeways take the definite article.  In other parts of the country one speaks of I 91 or 45 North.  In California, there's The 5, The 405, The 10.  Each of these freeways has its own quirks, a personality of sorts.  They aren't just stretches of pavement but presences, creatures that necessitate the definite article by their very individuality and uniqueness.  They are the angry gods to be worked, placated, feared, for without them life in California as we know it would cease.  Perhaps that's fitting for a land whose cities are named for saints and angels.  Mary may preside over the new pueblo of our lady of the angels, but the freeways slither like gigantic serpents through the waste places, malevolent spirits not yet trampled under foot.

Seeing Beowulf Through Tolkien: The Platypus Reads Part CXCIX

After spending a few weeks wrestling with Tolkien's interpretation of Beowulf , I found myself sitting down and reading Seamus Heaney's translation of the text during a spare moment.  I came to the place where Beowulf presents Hrothgar with the hilt of the ancient sword that slew Grendel's mother.  Hrothgar looks down at the hilt with its ancient runes and carvings depicting the war between the giants and God and meditates on the fortunes of men.  In a flash of insight, I thought: this is the whole poem! Let me explain.  Tolkien believed that the genuine contribution of the Northern peoples to European culture was the theory of courage.  The Northern heroes, at their best, were men who fought for order against chaos -a battle they knew they were doomed to lose.  If they were true heroes, their souls would join the gods and aid them in the final battle against darkness and its monsters and again go down fighting, spitting in the face of the meaninglessness...