The shield of Achilles is the beneficiary of the most extended and well-known ekphrasis in the Homeric poems, giving its name (The fabrication of the weapons, όπλοποιίοί) to book Σ of the Iliad, in the traditional Alexandrian division. Iliad, XVIII, 478-608 became already in antiquity the most representative example of the literary description of a work of art2: the reception of the Homeric shield can be detected already in pseudo-Hesiodic Aspis, dating back to 6th century BC. Due to the standard value of Homer, such descriptions of the shield of an hero and (more briefly) of his other weapons became markers of the belonging of a poem to the epic genre3. In later Hellenistic and Imperial poems, the presence of such epic set-pieces, as well as the self-conscious adoption of archaizing stylistic patterns, originally functional to oral composition, acquired the function of vindicating a place in the tradition of heroic poetry. This meta-literary dimension was fully exploited also in its other potentiality, that of signalling originality by means of the ostentatious variation and distortion of the model. An illuminating example is the Hellenistic mythological epic of Apollonius Rhodius, whose model of heroism is overwhelmingly different from the Iliadic one, and that coherently substitutes the description of the hero’s shield with that of a lavishly embroidered δίπλαξ, with which the main male character underlines his handsomeness and charm while going to a meeting with a stranger queen, that will eventually end in an erotic adventure.
Every later arm description can’t escape the comparison with Homer: the peculiarity of Quintus Smyrnaeus consists in the fact that he describes the same object. We could expect to find a mere rewriting of the same scenes in a tour de force of stylistic variatio, except for the difference that in Quintus the object is not described while being forged by Hephaestus, and consequently the dynamic presentation that so much pleased Lessing must be substituted by a static one. This is by no means the case4: the shield of Achilles described in Posthomerica, V, 6-101, besides partial correspondences with Homer, presents striking differences. A shift from such a well-known model must have been consciously intended by the poet, and easily recognizable by contemporary recipients5: our purpose is to define the author’s aims in leaving the Homeric path, in a poem that seems overwhelmingly loyal to its predecessor. Moreover, we will widen our scope touching briefly the other extended shield description in the poem, that of Eurypilus (VI, 200-93), and the depiction of Dionysus’ shield in Nonnus’ Dionysiaka, XXVI, 380-567.
1. The Shield of Achilles in Iliad, xviii, 478-608, and some developments in Hellenistic epic poetry
Our first task is to define what is a re-elaboration of the iliadic shield, and what represents an absolute innovation by Quintus (and Nonnus): so let’s state some basic characteristics of the ekphrasis in book XVIII of the Iliad. It opens with a cosmic image: earth, heavens and sea are present, as well as the constellations (XVIII, 483-489). After that, the decoration turns to illustrate the deeds of mankind: we have firstly a city at peace, with marriages and trials taking place (491-508), and then another city besieged by two armies, while on the banks of a nearby river a battle is taking place for the possession of a large cattle (509-540). The description goes on with scenes of ploughing (541-549), reaping in an estate owned by a king (550-560), vintage with the accompaniment of music (561-572), cattle keeping (573- 589) and dancing (590-606). The agricultural scenes show no sign of the harshness of physical labour, but share instead a joyful and gay atmosphere. The great river Ocean embraces and encircles all these images (607-608), as it embraces the earth in archaic cosmology.
Ancient interpreters took Homer’s shield as an image of the cosmos: this interpretation is accurate, since the masterpiece of Hephaestus displays at the beginning the image of physical universe, and after that provides a portrait of the human civilization dwelling in it. The two cities, juxtaposed as to form a polarity, gave to ancient grammarians a key to read Homer’s depiction of human activities: a scholion to XVIII, 490, extends the war-peace opposition to the whole of them. It’s worth quoting a part: επί τά επίγεια φέρεται. διοι- κουμένου δε του βίου πολέμω καί ειρήνη τά εν άμφοτέροις τοις καιροίς συμβαί,νοντα προς εκλογήν του αμείνονος προβέβλητοα. Then the scholiast observes that Homer has devoted more space to peaceful scenes than to battles, and makes sense of this saying that, as the Iliad is basically a war poem, the poet took advantage of the ekphrasis in order to describe what he had to leave out of the narration. Considering the fact that the city-at-peace scene in Homer is actually much shorter than the siege and battle scenes (respectively 18 and 32 lines), we can conclude that the scholiast took the country-life scenes to belong to the same section with the city-at-peace, notwithstanding the interposition of 509-540. So everything on the shield, except for the cosmological items, can be considered an example of either war or peace. But the well-established allegorizing trend in Homeric scholarship detected in the two cities hidden physical meanings: Heraclitus’ Homeric Allegories saw in them a precedent of Empedoclean cosmological theories, as metaphors for the universal principles of neikos and philia6. This idea lends to these twin images an even more general value: the shield in its entirety, being a mirror of the physical world, can be read in the light of their polarity.
Contemporary scholarship agrees with ancient interpreters on some basic matters: the ambition of the shield to be an image of the world, and the fundamental un-relatedness of the ekphrasis to the Iliad as a whole. This un-relatedness is thematic only, for this description can’t be seen as merely decorative: in fact, it plays a major role in the economy of the poem, laying emphasis on the return of Achilles to war after the death of Patroclus7. But as far as the iconographic program of the shield is concerned, there is no evident relation with the plot, or with Achilles himself. A major characteristic of those scenes is the complete absence of personal, chronological and spatial determinations: this is striking in a contest such as Homeric narration, where even lesser warriors, that appear only at the moment of being slain on battlefield, are granted a name and a genealogical background8. The universality of the shield decoration has been recognized by twentieth century scholarship, particularly German, as the most characteristic item of the ekphrasis: Schadewaldt has argued that it portrays the whole world reduced to its basic forms, and ordained by the principle of polarity9. Rheinhardt has insisted on the concept of the continuity of life («Kontinuität des Lebens»), so calling the aforementioned lack of individuation, that renders the carvings universally valid10.
Yet some attempts have been made to interpret the scenes on the shield as thematically bound to the plot of the poem11. Øvind Andersen tried to detect allusions to main themes of the Iliad and events of the Trojan cycle, seeing for instance in the weddings of ll. 491-497 a hint to the wedding of Helen, or in the νεΐκος " scene of ll. 497-508 an allusion to the quarrel between Achilles and Agamemnon12. But this attempt suffers from the vagueness of the correspondences proposed. Hans Gärtner took the other way round, and tried to make sense of the predominance of joyful and serene scenes, detecting in them a description of the blessed life of peaceful kingship that Thetis whished for his son, but which Achilles refused in order to gain un-perishable renown13. This is charming, but absolutely not provable. Byre has tried to lay more solid foundations for his attempt14, and starts from a division between descriptive scenes, displaying tableaux finished in themselves (the agricultural ones), and narrative scenes, characterised by the lack of conclusion (the scenes of conflict): the second type is thematically closer to the plot of the poem. I fear nonetheless that this distinction is very subjective (both types describe a work in progress, and are equally “un-finished”). Actually, the shield of Achilles is related to the plot of the Iliad only as far as it has the ambition to represent the world of men: so the war scene at ll. 509-40 has something to do with the war taking place at Troy, only inasmuch the former stands for every community besieged by hosts. Following partly the fine reading of Oliver Taplin, we could say that the shield is a microcosm, and if a reference to the plot of the Iliad is at all meant, «the city on the shield puts the Iliad itself into perspective; it puts war and prowess into perspective within the world as a whole»15.
The sub-genre of epic ekphrasis had a long evolution, and some ten centuries lay between the Iliad and Quintus of Smyrna. What were the main evolutions from the situation until now described, and at what stage did they take place? We have said that a major example of the potentiality for meta-poetic reflection of the ekphrasis is the description of Jason’s cloak in Argonautica, I, 721-68: ancient interpreters had observed that the substitution of the arms with a precious piece of clothing is related with the erotic (rather than heroic) characteristics of the poem’s male protagonist16. Modern scholars extend this observation to the Stimmung of Apollonius’ poem: it is not a war epic like the Iliad, so the marked element of ekphrasis must change subject17. But the δίπλαξ has also another function: as a fundamental study by Massimo Fusillo18 has shown, all the seven scenes embroidered on it by Athena’s hand bear a recognizable relation with main themes and aspects of the poem: the image of Aphrodite looking at her own image in Ares’ shield (I, 742-746), for instance, is both allusive to the new deal of Apollonius’ epics, where love casts out heroic warfare as chief element, and proleptic of the goddess’s own intervention in Argonautica, III, where she is likewise presented while caring for her appearance (III, 45-50). As Fusillo points out, this relation is indirect and allusive: a “figural” relationship, active at the level of connotation, not of denotation19. Yet the last image is openly referred to the Argonautic saga: it portrays the antecedent of Jason’s quest, the boy Phrixos with the ram with the golden fleece (I, 763-767) an explicit element, which suggests to the recipients how to read the other scenes.
This new semantics of description are made possible by abolishing the universal scope of Homer’s shield: the seven scenes that constitute the decoration of Jason’s cloak display no anonymous characters and undetermined settings, but well known gods and heroes, and in five cases a precise mythic episode. This shift from anonymity narrows the scope and allows the allusion to individual aspects of the Argonautica20.
Another major Hellenistic example of an ekphrasis alluding to the plot of the embedding poem is offered by Moschus’ Europa. In the description of the engraved casket of the heroine (ll. 37-62) her soon-to-follow union with Zeus, disguised as a bull, is foreshadowed by the representation of the affaire of the god with Io, in which a similar metamorphosis takes place (but there is the beloved woman who has been changed into a cow)21. Moschus’ allusion is much more direct, because the plot of the epyllion is mirrored in an almost identical story: yet the reference is still delivered obliquely, because of the inversion of the rôles between Zeus and his lover22. A famous example for the application of such Hellenistic techniques to the more traditional case of a shield description is that of Aeneas’ shield in Aenaeid, VIII, 626-728, where Vulcanus has forged a celebration of the future national achievements of Rome.
2. The Shield of Achilles (Posthomerica, v, 6-101)23
2.1. Matters of structure
Let’s state the division of the scenes in Quintus’ version of the shield of Achilles24, as it was established in Köchly’s seminal edition:
6-16 Cosmic images: Aither and the Sky, the Air; Sea, Ocean and rivers
17-24 Wild beasts on the mountains and men hunting with dogs 25-37 Battles and personifications of war
38-42 Gorgons with snakes
45-8 Peaceful cities: personification of Dike, prosperous fields 49-56 Allegory of the mountain of Arete
57-65 Harvest and plough with oxen 66-8 Music and dances
69-72 Cypris anadyomene
73-79 The Wedding of Thetis and Peleus 80-87 Ships troubled by a sea storm
88-96 The carriage of Poseidon escorted by dolphins
The whole of this is contained, as in Homer25, by the flow of Okeanos (99-101). Two passages are left out, containing commentaries by the narrator: ll. 43-44 underline the shift from a section to the following one: καί τά μέν άρ πολέμοιο τεράατα πάντα τέτυκτο ·/ ειρήνης δ άπάνευθεν έσαν περικάλλεα έργα; ll. 97-98 advise the readers that this description isn’t intended to be exhaustive (άλλα δε μύρια κεΐτο κατ’ άσπίδα, 97). Both observations are important: the first one gives an order to the iconographic program of the shield (war first, peace then); the second leaves discreetly open the possibility of according this version of the shield with the Iliad, suggesting that the two poets could have chosen and told in their own way two partially overlapping selections from a much richer decoration26. The division between war and peace marks also the text in the sense of the reception of the iliadic shield: we have seen how this polarity had been taken by ancient commentators as an exegetical tool applied to the entire ekphrasis, and we can assume that Quintus knew that widespread interpretation, as well as “philosophical” readings such as that proposed by Heraclitus27. The relative position of the πολέμοιο τεράατα and the ειρήνης έργα in contrast with Il., XVIII, 490-540 strengthen this idea: in Homer the city at peace precedes the besieged one, but from line 541 onwards no more words are spent about battles, and the shield is embellished again with peaceful images. This interposition can be perceived as disorder in composition: that binary opposition fails to account for it28.
We can suppose that the different order in Quintus aims at a clear-cut division, with no coming back from peace to war: a correction or an improvement of his model. But does this division apply to the whole of the shield decoration?29 I think that it’s quite difficult to account for the pertinence of all the images on the shield to one and the same poetic plan, because the last four images do not fit well in this schema: they are not ειρήνης περικάλλεα έργα, at least not in the way the previous ones are (rightfully administered cities, farming activities, dances) – they simply abstain from portraying explicitly30 images of struggle and violence. I prefer to start from the question: what is a (free) revision of Homer, and what is not? A distinctive element is the difference exposed in the previous chapter: everything that can be conceived as a variation on Homer, in Posthomerica, V, 6-101, consists in images displaying general and anonymous scenes: some men are hunting or fighting, some warriors are dealing with battle and death, some peasants are earning their bread by husbandry. This is the Homeric way observed in Il. XVIII, where the characters have no name31, and no character from well-known myths is portrayed32. On the contrary, in the last section of Quintus’ ekphrasis (69-96) appear familiar divinities from the classical pantheon, and one of the most famous episodes from ancient mythical lore, the wedding of Thetis and Peleus (73-79).
From a thematic point of view, except for lines 49-56 Quintus keeps (broadly speaking) the Homeric design until line 68, improving it with the inversion of warand peace scenes. We have an introductory, cosmological description (6-16), corresponding to Il., XVIII, 483- 489; then battle scenes33, cities at peace, farming activities and dancing festivities. The aforementioned functional division (generic/individuated scenes) corresponds to another twofold division, that pertaining to the thematic continuity with Homer. From line 69 onwards we have entirely unprecedented images: Afrodite emerging from the sea, the wedding of Thetis, the sea storm and Poseidon. Almost in the middle of the Ekphrasis (42 lines after the beginning and some 45 before its conclusion) we have the even more un-Homeric allegorical representation of the mountain of Arete. It is commonly seen as pertaining to the peace section, but its position (which interrupts the flow of Homeric scenes) cannot fail to produce troubles. It’s worth spending a few words on this. This is the city-at-peace scene, in Quintus’ version:
άμφί δέ μυρί,α φΰλα πολυτλήτων άνθρώπων
άστεα καλά νέμοντο· Δίκη δ’ έπεδέρκετο πάντα·
άλλοι ο αλλ επι έργα χέρας φερον αμφι ο αλωαι
καρποισι βρίθοντο· μέλαινα δέ γαΐα τεθήλει. (V.45-8)
The corresponding Homeric image (Iliad, XVIII, 480-508) has nothing to do with the land outside the city walls: nuptial processions are going on in the streets, justice is being administered in the agora. In Quintus there is only the bare mention of the busy mankind living in the άστεα καλά, under the supervision of Justice. The vines and the black earth, unknown to Homer as components of the civic landscape, are proleptic elements for the following agricultural scenes of ll. 57-6534; but they are also tokens of the fact that the imperial poet is contaminating Homer with Hesiod (Erga, 225-237) and Aratus (Phaen., 98-136), where the presence of Justice in human communities (as in Posthom., V, 46) is connected with peaceful farming activities (Erga, 230-233, Phaen., 110-113)35. As the poet took the pain of inserting this proleptic elements, we cannot but feel uncomfortable with the insertion of the allegory: a shift from line 48 to l. 57, έν δ’ έσαν άμητήρες άνά πλατύν ογμον ίόντες, would have seemed much more fitting. Moreover, this allegory pertains to the concept of Arete, whose more obvious meaning in epic is strength and courage in battle; yet ajrethv here isn’t explicitly identified with the warrior’s virtus, and Maciver has shown that this concept is broader than that (although encompassing it)36. At any rate, it is not properly an example of the «wonderful deeds of peace» announced at l. 44. I think that its unsatisfying position is due mainly to the fact that here is the middle of the ekphrasis, that is, the middle of the shield as an object. We can guess that the author wished to emphasise this image, and so he put it in the most central position, notwithstanding its only partial relevance to the immediate context. The reason will bother us later.
In conclusion: we have a flow of scenes corresponding to those on the Homeric shield, from the cosmological tableau to the feast at ll. 66-68, except for the mountain of Arete. The images following line 68 have nothing to do with the iliadic shield, and can be considered as an entirely original contribution by Quintus. These unprecedented scenes are intrinsically un-Homeric, not generic nor anonymous. Besides this division between Homeric and nonHomeric scenes, all the images are disposed according to a general rule of gradual shift: every image must have something in common with the previous one, avoiding thus harsh contrasts between neighbouring scenes; where a sharper change from peace to war is involved, the discontinuity is mediated by the narrator’s remark (43-44). The progression is linear, from the preceding image to the following one: not a centripetal architecture, but a sequence. This thematic progression is inscribed in a parallel geographic progression from the sky and the air, to the earth (mountains first), the seashores, the sea and the Ocean, as pointed out by Vian37.
2.2. Homeric scenes: re-writing archaic models
Let’s observe more closely those items that we have defined Homeric: indeed, not everything in Posthomerica, V, 6-49, 57-68, is taken from Iliad, XVIII, but we can easily recognize that a scene like the hunt of ll. 17-24 is at least “Homer-like”: it is anonymous and undetermined, can be easily inserted in the war-peace polarity, and although not granted independent existence in the iliadic shield, it has something to do with it. An Homeric precedent for the struggle between men and beasts is provided by the ending of the cattle-keeping scene of Il., XVIII, 579-586, where two lions attack a bull and are consequently fought by the herdsmen and their dogs. Another sensu lato “Homeric” element is the coherence of these scenes with Homeric poetry in general: similar scenes appear frequently in Homeric similes, but an extensive hunting scene is also recollected in Od., XIX, 427-45838. The same is true for the demonic personifications of the various aspects of battle, that occupy much of ll. 25-37. In fact, real warfare is limited to the first few lines (25-28), and even that passage is wholly descriptive (a dreadful image of slaughter) – unlike Homer’s city-at-war, where we see two besieging armies taking council and an expedition for the pillage of cattle. In Quintus the real protagonists are the personifications of Fear (Phobos, line 29) and Terror (Deimos, 29), the warlike goddess Enyò (29), Strife (Eris, 31) and the Erinnyes (31), the Keres (34), Death (Thanathos, 35), and Battles (Hysminai, 36). All these personifications are acting on the battlefield, while the warriors are involved exclusively in the action of dying: περικτείνοντο δε λαοί / μίγδα θοοίς ΐπποισι (26-27). This ghastly Götterapparat is, for the reader, an old acquaintance from Homeric battles: such entities appear also on the Homeric shield, but play a minor role: see Il., XVIII, 535-540 (Eris, Kudoimos and Ker). So the general theme is taken from the Homeric shield, but handled in a different way: through the substitution of narration with allegory, not otherwise than in the city-at-peace scene, where instead of narrating the activities of the citizens the poet simply places among them Dike.
Quintus strove to be at once Homeric and un-Homeric. His scenes are briefer than the Homeric ones, and in many ways akin to those of the pseudo-Hesiodic Shield of Heracles. Quintus looks constantly at it: this is clear from the presence of the wild beasts (see Aspis, 168-177), the overwhelming attention paid to the war demons (see Aspis, 147-160, 249-270), the presence of the Gorgons with their snakes (see Aspis, 160-167, for the snakes; 223-237, for the Gorgons), associated with the τεράατα of war. We may say that Quintus uses pseudoHesiod as a source to correct Homer, but takes from the former only the elements that he can insert in the schema inherited by Iliad, XVIII. Why did he act like this, besides for the sake of poikiliva? The variations introduced by ps.-Hesiod must have been, to his mind, more fit for his peculiar aesthetic aims. We can remind that the iliadic Shield of Achilles had been deemed spurious by Zenodotus: we do not know exactly why, but we can guess that it was because of its length and its little relevance to the plot of the Iliad. Quintus (the Homeric part of whose ekphrasis is less than a half long than the model) could have been looking for an answer to such criticisms in the ps.-Hesiodic Aspis. In itself this poem shares the blames possibly reproached to Homer’s shield, but it presents also many innovations: it displays named characters and mythical episodes, along with generic scenes, and this is virtually exploitable to establish a net of allusions to the main plot (this is not the case in Ps.Hesiod)39. Moreover, its scenes had a less pronounced narrative character, and many figures were present without being involved in any action, but simply as symbols of power and might, or of dread and horror; Quintus could have found there an inspiration for his struggle scenes, substituting lengthy narrations with the portrayal of war demons and Gorgons, that convey with their bare name the notion of death and slaughter.
Our approach emphasizes the relation with Homer, in continuity and break: we assume that the presence of scenes derived from the Iliad, with a cosmological frame and the division between war and peace, aim at marking the poem as a traditional heroic epos. Baumbach has argued that those scenes have also a proleptic value: he divides the description in just seven sections40, the first four of which are the cosmic image (6-16), the hunt scene (17-24), the war images (25-42), and the peace section, comprehending the allegory of Arete and the agricultural labours (43-65). In his opinion, these images must be read as a sort of evolutionary history of mankind41, and at the same time provide a dynamic plan of the Posthomerica: the succession war and violence / peace and justice would mirror the evolution of the plot, which narrates battles and slaughter but will end with the victory of the Achaeans and the achievement of peace and prosperity42. This teleological reading seems to me unsustainable, because the Trojan war is an act of vengeance, and does not aim at the restoration of peace. Moreover, the Achaean victory will eventually bring no peace nor justice: the war ends with an horrible carnage, and few of the Greeks will reach their homelands without troubles: many are drowned in the great storm of book XIV, and we know that the nostoi of many heroes ended with death, exile or year-long wanderings at sea. But also a reading of the shield as an history of mankind is unlikely; ancient interpretations of the Homeric shield presented the war-peace opposition as synchronic and eternally valid: there was no expectation of a future life of peace opposed to a present of violence, nor any idea of progress, but a polarity of principles which provide the cosmos with an order.
Another proleptic function of those images, in Baumbach’s view, is that of preparing the following dispute between Aiax and Odysseus for the possession of the weapons, resulting in the former’s suicide: the king of Ithaca would prove to be a competent interpreter of the shield’s iconography43, and so a fitting owner, because in referring in his speech the achievements of human mind he mentions stone-quarrying on mountains, seafaring and hunting wild animals (V, 243-50), items present on the shield; moreover, during his embassy to Neoptolemus, he tries to persuade Achilles’ son to come to Troy by promising him the shield, described correctly as representing γαΐα καί ουρανός ήδέ θάλασσα (VII, 201) and ζώα… έοικότα κινυμένοισι (203). But I see no point in these parallels: the first one has nothing to do with the ekphrasis, it’s a rather common-place rhetoric exaltation of human intelligence, more similar to Soph., Ant., 332-362 than to Posthom., V, 6-10144. As for Odysseus’ words to Neoptolemus, he is describing the shield itself: no wonder that he recalls some items of its carvings – far from accurately, I would say. The real heir of the weapons will be Neoptolemus: explicit references to the family of Achilles are displayed in the un-Homeric section of the shield. Odysseus will own the weapons for a few days, and won’t ever use them. No point for Quintus to underline with faint parallelisms his non-existent right to the shield.
2.3. Non Homeric scenes: mythological tableaux
The four scenes after line 68 (we could as well speak of three, because the sea storm and Poseidon form a diptych), all of them placed by the sea or in a marine environment, avoid the universalizing character, anonymity and loss of determination of the previous ones. We have two well known divinities (Aphrodite with Himeros and the Graces, Poseidon riding his chariot) and an extended mythological scene, representing the marriage of Peleus and Thetis on the idyllic background of Mount Pelion (V, 73-79):
έν δ’ άρ’ έσαν Νηρήος ύπερθύμοιο θύγατρες
εξ άλός εύρυπόροιο κασιγνήτην άνάγουσαι
ές γάμον Αίακί,δαο δαίφρονος. άμφί δέ πάντες
άθάνατοι δαί,νυντο μακρήν άνά Πηλί,ου άκρην
άμφί δ’ άρ’ ύδρηλοί, τε καί εύθαλέες λειμώνες
έσκον, άπειρεσιοισι κεκασμένοι άνθεσι ποί,ης,
άλσεά τε κρήναί, τε διειδέες υδατι καλώ.
This episode has very strong connections with the Trojan lore, for it was narrated in the Cypria45, and contains a plain allusion to Achilles, whose birth is the consequence of that wedding. But this image is also related to other passages in the Posthomerica, because in the three books devoted to the death of Achilles and its aftermaths the marriage of Peleus and Thetis is remembered five more times: III, 98-127, 611-26; IV, 49-55, 131-143; V, 338-345. Except for IV, 131-143, where the event is referred by Nestor, all the occurrences are recollections by various goddesses46, who underline sympathetically the cruelness of the hero’s destiny, the grief of Thetis, forced to beget a mortal son, and the cynic play of Zeus and the Olympians with them. Those bitter commentaries throw a sinister light on the merry image carved on the shield, with its wonderful natural setting and its glorious divine apparatus: it is an emblem meant to glorify the lineage of the owner, but also an omen of his immature death, and a prelude to the dreadful war to come.
The allusiveness of this image encourages us to look for something similar in the other divine scenes. Aphrodite, portrayed while emerging from the sea and attended by some of her companions (ll. 69-72), is as much involved in the Antehomerica as Peleus and Thetis. In the Cypria their marriage was narrated precisely because, in that occasion, arose the quarrel between the goddesses about the primacy of beauty, eventually won by Aphrodite by promising to Paris the hand of Helen; the proximity to the wedding scene encourages the reader to detect also in the presence of the goddess an allusion to the origins of the war: another image of radiant beauty reveals disturbing associations.
The last two images are clearly complementary. The first one displays a fleet having a hard time during a sea storm; the second one Poseidon driving his chariot and escorted by dolphins, the sea turning quiet at his coming. Are we to understand that Poseidon comes to rescue the troubled seamen of ll. 80-87? Vian and others are of this advice47; but in fact the god is juxtaposed to the previous image, not part of it, and the formulation of ll. 83-93 lets us think more to an opposition than to an inclusion:
ναΰται δέ τεθηπότες άλλοθεν άλλος
έσσυμένας φοβέοντο καταιγίδας, ώς έτεόν περ,
λαί,φεα λεύκ’ έρύοντες, ίν’ εκ θανάτοιο φύγωσιν
οι δ’ έζοντ5 έπ’ έρετμα πονεύμενοι· άμφί δέ νηυσί
πυκνόν έρεσσομένησι μέλας λευκαίνετο πόντος.
τόίς δ5 επί μειδιόων <έν> κήτεσιν είναλίοισιν
ήσκητ’ Έννοσίγαιος· άελλόποδες δέ μιν ίπποι,
ώς έτεόν, σπεύδοντες υπέρ πόντοιο φέρεσκον
χρυσείη μάστιγι πεπληγότες· άμφί δέ κύμα
στόρνυτ’ έπεσσυμένων, ομαλή δ’ άρα πρόσθε γαλήνη
έπλετο.
The expression επί τοΐς means nothing more than «near them» or «after them», and is referred merely to the fact that one scene follows the other on the surface of the shield; moreover, the sharp contrast between the mortal danger of human seafarers and the security of the smiling god, encircled by his sea creatures, underlines the divine distance of Poseidon from the sailors. The sea is said to calm down all around the god’s chariot (91-93), i. e. to his sole advantage: his serene confidence can be an ostentation of indifference. Voyage by ship is an important element of the Trojan saga, and no less than three storms were narrated in the Cypria48; but most famous was that occurred after the halosis and caused by the impiety of Aiax son of Oileus, who outraged Athena by raping the suppliant Cassandra. It is narrated in Posthomerica, XIV: the god plays a major rôle. He rises a tempest out of regard for her niece (XIV, 507-508) and gives the final strike to Aiax, when the hero’s seeking rescue on the Capharean rocks49; after that, Poseidon drowns part of the Achaean fleet, harking to the prayers of his son Nauplius (see XIV, 611-621). The most famous victim of the god’s wrath was obviously Odysseus: the later vicissitudes by sea of this hero are foreshadowed at XIV, 628-631. Quintus’ poem ends with an apocalyptic scene of shaken nature (XIV, 632- 654), with the see invading the Trojan plane and the local rivers overflowing their banks to destroy the Greek’s camp walls, at the command of Poseidon and Apollo50, and the surviving ships driven out of their route (655-658).
In conclusion, the un-Homeric scenes at V, 69-96 can be read as a mise en abyme of the Trojan cycle, reduced to its initial and final stages: Aphrodite and the wedding of Thetis referring to the Cypria and the origin of the war, the sea storm and Poseidon as proleptic elements for its end and the nostoi. At the same time, there is also a phenomenon of internal intertextuality, because the first stages of the war are remembered several times in the Posthomerica, and its aftermaths partly narrated, partly foreseen in book XIV. This interpretation is consistent with Quintus’ poetic aims, because his poem had the ambition to fulfil the Homeric narration, bridging the gap between Iliad and Odyssey, and to substitute the discredited and probably already lost cyclic poems. Moreover, he is very fond of establishing connections between his work and his epic predecessors; in particular, he provides two major recapitulations of the events of the war from the beginning. In the fourth book Nestor, celebrating Achilles during his funeral games, tells a threefold panegiric, starting from the praise of the hero’s mother and her wedding (IV, 131-143), then remembering all his achievements (146-162, stating some ten episodes from the Cypria, the Iliad and the Aethiopis, the latter overlapping with Posthomerica, I-III), and finally foreshadowing the arrival of Neoptolemus (169-170), that will come to pass in book VII. In the fourteenth book, lines 125-141, a group of euphoric Greeks celebrate the halosis singing the main events of the past ten years: this second catalogue reaches the destruction of the city (also facts narrated in Little Iliad and Ilioupersis, and re-told in Quintus, V-XIII).
2.4. Non-Homeric scenes: the allegory of the Mountain of Arete
I think we ought now to come back to the remaining non-Homeric scene, i. e. the allegory of the mountain of Arete. Let’s quote the passage (V, 49-56):
αίπύτατον δ’ έτέτυκτο θεοκμήτω επί έργω
καί τρηχύ ζαθέης ’Αρετής όρος· εν δέ καί αυτή
είστήκει φοίνικος έπεμβεβαυία κατ’ άκρης
υψηλή ψαύουσα προς ουρανόν, άμφί δέ πάντη
άτραπιτοί θαμέεσσι διειργόμεναι σκολόπεσσιν
άνθρώπων άπέρυκον έύν πάτον, ούνεκα πολλοί
είσοπίσω χάζοντο τεθηπότες αίπά κέλευθα,
παΰροι δ’ίερόν οίμον άνήιον ίδρώοντες.
The personification of Virtue stands over the top of a palm tree51, itself staying on the top of a high mountain, which many people try to ascend, but whose top only few reach. This image belongs to a moralistic tradition, the most famous example of which is Prodicus’ allegory of Heracles at the crossroad52: it became a locus communis of ancient and medieval literature. As Quintus’ main source is usually regarded Erga, 288-292, where Hesiod describes the antithetical paths of Arete and Kakotes: these two concepts doesn't have a strictly moral dimension, meaning «material prosperity and respectability» and «misery and social disrepute», but for Hesiod they have also an ethic relevance53. Hesiod’s lines imply that the path of Arete goes upwards: μάκρος δέ καί όρθιος οίμος (Erg., 290), but once you come εις άκρον (291) it becomes easier. This is likely the origin of the image of the mountain. Maciver argues that Quintus’ version has a Stoic connotation54: I won’t discuss this matter (although I must confess, I think that Maciver overrates Quintus’ engagement with Stoic ethics), nor am I interested in finding alternative sources55. Here I just want to explore the allegory’s potentiality for allusiveness and proleptic reference.
This allegory occurs one more time in the poem, at XIV, 195-200, where the deified Achilles appears at night to the sleeping Neoptolemos, giving him moral advices and vindicating his share in Troy’s spoils: there the dead hero speaks of Virtue as an inaccessible tree (πρέμνον δύσβατον, 197), whose branches stand high in the air (197-198), and can be reached only with both labour and strength (όπόσοισι δέ κάρτος όπηδεΐ / καί πόνος, εκ καμάτου πολυγήθεα καρπόν άμώνται, 198-199). This time we have only the tree, but the image is clearly equivalent to that on the shield. Here the nature of this Arete is clearer: virtue requires both valour and hard work, and has to be acquired both on the battlefield and in peaceful dealings, if we are to judge from the advices of Achilles to his son: to be the first among the Greeks for ήνορέη, and to obey to wiser and elderly people in the council (189-191). The allegory is symbolic of the moral heirloom that Achilles leaves to his son: this is a major theme in book VII, where Neoptolemus comes from Scyrus in the moment of biggest need, when Eurypilus has almost taken the camp and longs to burn the ships. The Achaeans suffer from the void left by the death of their best warrior: the situation is modelled on the central books of the Iliad and the attack led by Hector to the ships, which causes the intervention of Patroclus in book XVI.
Neoptolemus, in book VII, is called to act like Patroclus and wear the weapons of Achilles, in order to save camp and ships; a textual spy for this parallelism is the wish expressed by the young hero at VII, 222, ήν τι φάος Δαναοΐσι λιλαιομένοισι γένωμαι almost literal quotation of Patroclus’ words in Il., XVI, 39. This time the substitute will not only pretend to be someone else, without having his skills: he is repeatedly said to be a perfect image of his father, undistinguishable in height, strength and face features56, and unlike Patroclus (see Il., XVI, 141-142) he is able to pick up the enormous spear that the best of the Achaeans inherited from Peleus, that no other was able to handle. The scene of the dressing of the arms in VII, 445-451 is not only a standard element, introduced in observation of epic conventions, but a consecration of Neoptolemus as the new champion of the Greek army:
υιός δ’ αυτ’ Άχιληος έδύσετο τεύχεα πατρός,
καί οΐ φαίνετο πάμπαν άλίγκιος· άμφί δ’ ελαφρά
Ήφαιστου παλάμησι περί μελέεσσιν άρήρει,
καί περ έόνθ’ έτέροισι πελώρια- (VII, 445-448)
Achilles arms fit him perfectly, because he’s a fitting substitute, and unlike Patroclus he will eventually slay the champion of the Trojan.
The major rôle played by the inheritance of the arms in showing the heroic stature of Achilles’ scion57 reveals the inner meaning of the allegory of Arete, and explains its central place in Quintus’ ekphrasis. It is a proleptic element, inasmuch as it shows the continuation of Achilles’ virtues and mission in his son: when the dead hero gives his moral advices in book XIV, the second occurrence of the allegory of Virtue invites the recipients to read retrospectively the image on the shield as a sort of heraldic coat of arms of the line sprung from Peleus and Thetis. So the shield’s decoration not only hints to his past master, but foreshadows also his future one. Once more the author does his better to lend unity to the various episodes of the Trojan lore, at the point of his poem where some heroes inherited from the Iliad (Achilles, Aiax) perish and new ones (Neoptolemus) come to continue their job58.
3. A partial conclusion: searching a compromise bet ween archaizing poetry and Alexandrian allusion
Quintus mingled a sequence of images that constitute a creative re-elaboration of the iconographic program of Iliad, XVIII, sharing its universality and anonymity, with other entirely new ones, that either are specified by the identification of their characters or have a strong allusive potential due to clear correspondences within the embedding poem. The principle by which the movement from anonymity to individuation brings a greater potential for allusion seems to have been clear to the author of the Posthomerica. He had to choose between the faithfulness to the archaic model, to whom he is loyal to the point of omitting the proem and beginning directly from the moment when the Iliad ended, and the richer possibilities introduced by the Hellenistic poets. Apollonius Rhodius and Moschus had shown a way to include as an organic element of the poem what risked otherwise to be a mere decorative digression. Quintus was well acquainted with the Argonautica59: the allusive play practised in his ekphrasis is more akin to that of Apollonius than to Moschus’, because the allusion is indirect and the reader has to work out the information. The choice of describing one scene explicitly related with the context (the wedding of Thetis), among other images in which the allusion is subtler, may well have been inspired by Apollonius (Phrixus and the golden ram).
Quintus managed to find a compromise between Homer and Hellenistic poetry. On the level of poetics, he had a more conservative approach than Apollonius: his subject is heroic warfare, and the outlook of his work is thoroughly archaizing. He describes a shield: the traditional set-piece is there, marking the poem as an epos stemming from Homer; but he doesn’t renounce to the refinement of Hellenistic literary techniques, and besides the inherited imago mundi there are also mythical and allegorical scenes full of Alexandrian cunning. So the shield of Achilles becomes an apt metaphor for the poetics of Quintus and the Posthomerica as a whole: almost the same as Homer, and yet different.
4. The Shield of Eurypilus (Posthom., vi, 200-293) and the relation between the t wo ekphraseis
At the beginning of the sixth book, after the death of Achilles and the suicide of Aiax, the council of the Achaeans sends an embassy to Scyrus, to summon Neoptolemus. At the same time, the last ally comes to rescue Troy from his hosts: it’s the valiant king Eurypilus, son of Telephus and of a sister of Priamus, whom is lavishly received by Paris (VI, 116-191). The stage becomes apparently less Homeric, but in fact Quintus is introducing an ambitious emulation of the central books of the Iliad: we have seen how Neoptolemus provides the Achaeans with a new Patroclus and a new Achilles. On their behalf the Trojans need a new Hector, so they place their hopes in Eurypilus60: Quintus underlines his importance as main antagonist of Achilles’ son by devoting to his shield a second ekphrasis of the same length (96 lines: VI, 198-293). The juxtaposition of the two descriptions in the successive books V- VI can be interpreted as a preparation for their fight in books VII-VIII; but what about the images displayed on this second shield? This time Quintus has no older authoritative version to take into account, and he feels evidently much more free from the Homeric shield: following the learned Hellenistic tradition, all the eighteen scenes described are well known mythical episodes and bear a tight relation to the owner of the shield, because they portray the deeds of Eurypilus’ grandfather, Heracles. Firstly there is the episode of the victory of baby Heracles over the snakes sent by Hera, then the twelve canonical άθλα, and at the end five of the countless parerga acknowledged to the hero: the liberation of Prometheus (VI, 268-272), the struggle with the Centaurs at Pholos’ place (273-282), the killing of Nexos (283-285), the killing of Antaeus (286-288), the liberation of Hesione (289-291). Also this description ends with the remark that there were many more images (292-293).
The presence of the canonical deeds is to be expected; the same is true of the beginning from the infant hero and the snakes, a popular episode in Greek poetry, giving to the ekphrasis the air of an archaic hymn (the infancy of a god followed by his aretalogia). The last five images, on the contrary, imply a selection: Baumbach has detected in them a search for symmetry61 (two episodes presenting Heracles as a saviour, the other three – two of which pertaining Centaurs – as an avenger) and an allusion to the ambiguity of the figure of Heracles in relation to Troy62, because the rescue of Hesione (daughter of Laomedon, Priam’s father) hints both at the help offered by the hero to the Trojan royal house, saving her from a sea monster, and at the assault he led to the city when he was refused the reward. Trojans expect rescue from Heracles’ grandson, and hold him in high esteem because of this lineage: Paris prays him to free them from the Greeks, κείνου (scil Heracles) μνωόμενος φρονέων τ’ άντάξί,α έργα (VI, 304), a disturbing request, because the praised grandfather was actually responsible for the first sacking of the city (see Il., V, 638-651). The reader is called to detect an authorial irony, foreshadowing the hero’s eventual failure in saving his allies63.
In my opinion Quintus inserted in this description at least another allusive element. The two scenes of the battle of Heracles with the Centaurs (273-282) and that of the killing of Nexus (283-285), the only one to escape the previous slaughter (κείνης έκπροφυγόντα μάχης, 284), form obviously a diptych. The Centauromachy is referred to in the seventh book (VII, 107-114), in a mythological simile comparing Eurypilus to Heracles and the Achaeans to the Centaurs:
Έπετ’ Άργείοισι χολούμενος, ευτε πάροιθεν
δβριμος Ήρακλέης Φολόης άνα μακρα κάρηνα
Κενταύροις έπόρουσεν έω μέγα κάρτεϊ θύων,
τούς άμα πάντας έπεφνε καί ώκυτάτους περ έόντας. (107-110)
Eurypilus is akin to his grandfather in his superiority over warlike enemies: but the simile says that Heracles slew all the Centaurs on Pholoe, while this it is not true – the ekphrasis reminds us that Nexus survived, if only to be slain later for trying to kidnap Deianeira. What it doesn’t show, but all the reader of Quintus would know and the poet himself reminds at V, 644-649, is that this last victory over a Centaur will eventually cause the hero’s death, with the unintended co-operation of his wife (it’s the plot of Sophocles’ Trachiniae). I think that Quintus is playing anew with the ambiguity of Eurypilus’ identification with Heracles, praised by the Trojans and boasted by Eurypilus with his shield, that nevertheless foreshadows his death by the hand of the only enemy he wasn’t able to overcome. Taking the risk of an over-subtle reading, I want to remind also the emphasis laid on the famous spear with which Eurypilus is slain in Posthom., VIII, 199-203: the μάκρη Πηλί,άς (VIII, 199-200), πατρός έμοΐο μέγ’ έγχος (215) in Neoptolemus’ word, Πηλί,άς ύψοκόμοί,σί,ν έειδομένη έλάτησι (V, 119). It is an item of the original panoplia that Achilles brought from Phthia, and a symbol of the heroic continuity in the line of Peleus: it was famously made from a melivh (ash) of mount Pelion, and created by the centaur Chiron as a gift for the hero’s wedding: this was narrated in the Cypria64 and remembered in the Iliad (XVI, 143-144). The emphasis on the spear may be intended to solicit the recollection of Heracles’ struggle with the Centaurs (Chiron’s death was caused by Heracles’ confounding him with the others), that will lead to the hero’s ruin65.
The two shields in Quintus’ poem are in a relation of parallelism and opposition, because both are the token of an heroic succession and of the identification of a younger generation of heroes with their predecessors: but the shield of Achilles is the model of a successful heroic heirloom, while that of Eurypilus of a failing one, because the owner will inherit his grandfather’s tragic doom, and his intervention won’t save Troy66.
5. The Shield of Dionysus (Dion., xv., 380-567): an Iliadic set-piece in an un-heroic context
Another late antique poem has to be considered in this comparative perspective: the description of Dionysus’ shield in Nonnus’ Dionysiaka, XXV, 380-567. If Quintus belongs to the more traditional branch of Greek epic poetry and writes a poem almost completely concerned with heroic warfare, Nonnus’ program is to combine the Homeric heritage with other major literary traditions, in particular Hellenistic poetry: he is very fond of quoting and imitating Callimachus, Apollonius Rhodius, Theocritus and the minor Bucolic poets, Euphorion and others – and this is not limited to mere linguistic borrowings. His poem, along with a great war, encompasses a lot of episodes of a sort unknown to Iliad and Odyssey: love romances with both women and beautiful boys, battles with giants, foundations of cities, aitia, bucolic episodes, callimachean hospitality scenes, astronomic poetry, metamorphoses, punishments of impious characters, and so on. Yet the poem has also an iliadic side: the imitation of the archaic model concerns particularly the part of the poem narrating the war against the Indians (books XIII-XL, especially from book XXII onwards): in the context of the lengthy second proem (XXV, 1-270) the ambition to emulate Homer is even made explicit (Homer, the war of Troy and his protagonists are mentioned at XXV, 8, 26, 253-60, 265, 269). The Egyptian author takes pains to insert in those books the sort of thematic and stylistic devices which his learned recipients would expect as generic markers: epic set pieces and scenes closely imitated from the Iliad. The ekphrasis of the hero’s shield comes immediately after the programmatic declaration of the proem-at-the-middle.
The weapons are a present from the adoptive mother of Dionysus, the goddess Rhea, who sends them with a reproach and an exhortation: it’s the seventh year from the beginning of the war, and the god hasn’t yet attacked in full force the enemy. The situation is modelled on Iliad, XVIII-XIX: the forging of new weapons sanctions Achilles’ return to the battlefield, and receiving them the hero turns to action. Likewise, the arms sent by Rhea have the function of awaking Dionysus from idleness. But there is a basic difference with Homer (or Quintus): the protagonist of the poem has no real need of a traditional panoplia, and these new masterpieces of Hephaestus, although much admired for their beauty67, are never used. In the poem the protagonist’s style of fighting is opposed to the traditional, heroic way. The male human warriors participating to the expedition act in war just like the iliadic heroes, and so do their Indian enemies; but the god himself, and his semi-divine and paradoxical armies (the Bacchants and other members of his thiasos, like the satyrs), defeat easily their opponents by performing miracles: their ivy leaves can cut the Indians’ armours, their vegetal thyrsus proves more strong than swords and spears68. This unbalance between the god’s supernatural powers and traditional epic battle implies a comic and jocular attitude toward the latter, which degenerates into parody. The situation is somehow reminiscent of Apollonius’ poem: heroism has lost its weight and centrality. Yet Nonnus, unlike Apollonius, chose to describe a shield, but a useless one, nothing more than a beautiful object; that is tantamount proclaiming the emptiness and incongruity of Homeric heroism in the exotic world of the Dionysiaca69.
The ekphrasis has a twofold structure. The first part (XXV, 387-412) is closer to Homer: it shows a cosmic image – the earth, the see, the air, the sun, the moon, and the constellations, like the corresponding incipit of the shield in Iliad, XVIII, 489-493. After line 412 the description departs radically from the archaic model, and that shift is marked by a recapitulation (413, τοΐα μέν εις μέσα νώτα σοφός τεχνήσατο χαλκεύς); after that Nonnus turns towards Apollonius, displaying a limited number of mythological episodes: the construction of the walls of Thebes by Amphion and Zethus (415-428), the kidnapping of Ganymede by Zeus (429-450), the Lydian legend of Tylus, killed by a snake but taken back to life thanks to a magic herb (451-552), and Rhea who saves Zeus from his father’s hands, replacing him with a stone (553-562). The connection of the shield to the owner is not only implied, but repeatedly underlined by the narrator at lines 414, 430-431, 451. Laura Miguélez Cavero defines the function of this ekphrasis in the Dionysiaca as «a narrative milestone, capable of sending us to what has been previously told and to what will be told later on», and even «a synecdoche of the literary work»70, and explains the choice of the images as follows: Thebes because of the god’s being born there, the ascension of Ganymede to Olympus as an allusion to Dionysus’ apotheosis at the end of the poem, the herb resurrecting Tylus for the invention of the vine tree and his prodigious properties, and Zeus and Rhea for the god’s genealogy.
This interpretation is likely, but I would propose a partly different explanation: it seems to me that the poet, instead of making allusion to single parts of the poem – better, along with them – is drawing a map of the main themes that bother him in writing the Dionysiaca, each of them recurring more than one time. In fact Nonnus is a master of variatio, and very keen on collecting similar episodes, establishing parallelisms, and even retelling two or three times the same story. So the scene with the construction of Thebes’ walls does not only recall the history of the foundation of the city in books IV-V, but also the many other foundation legends and aetiologies present in the poem; the history of Ganymede its various apotheoseis and katasterismoi, as well as the love affairs of Dionysus with beautiful boys; the resurrection of Tylus a Leitmotiv of the poem, that of Dionysus defeating mortality and giving wine to mankind as a remedy for human misery; and the last scene, reminding the struggles for power of the first divine generations, recalls the many stories of strife between the Olympic gods and challenging chthonic powers in the poem.
Anyway, this is not the proper occasion for examining in detail these references to the embedding poem; we will be appeased to detect their presence, and to explain them as an imitation of Apollonius Rhodius, a poet much beloved by Nonnus. This would be sufficiently proved by the similar allusive technique: but the poet from Panopolis leaves clear signs of his indebtedness to the author of the Argonautica. The scene of Amphion and Zethus building the wall of Thebes is taken from the embroidered cloak of Jason (Arg., I, 735-741); also the scene with the flying Ganymede is artificially connected by Nonnus with the last image of Apollonius’ description. There (Arg., I, 763-767) is portrayed Phrixus with the flying ram; in Dion., XXV, 439-441, the eagle who is carrying Ganymede (Zeus in disguise) is said to take grat pains not to let the boy fall down in the nearby sea, because the honour of giving name to it is reserved to Helle:
Μοίρας δ’ έτρεμε μάλλον, δπως μή πρώτον όπάσσας
ήβητήρ έρόεις έόν ουνομα γείτονι πόντω
δψιμον άρπάξειε γέρας πεφυλαγμένον Έλλη.
Helle was the sister of Phrixus, flied with him on the back of the golden ram but fallen in the sea thereafter called Hellespont.
Nonnus is more experimental than Quintus, and more self-conscious: the allusions to Apollonius Rhodius reveal in him the historian of Greek literature, having a clear vision of the evolution of the genre he is practising. But both of them face the same challenge – to place themselves in continuity with the Homeric tradition, and yet to affirm their poetic individuality and their distance from the archaic model. They find, each in his own way, a compromise between archaic epic practice and later Hellenistic evolutions, defining a common trend in large-scale imperial Greek epic: regrettably, we do not have a wider comparative basis.