6. Lastly, the time comes when Achilles, in deep anguish for the death of Patroclus, looks back with aversion and repentance to the past. To what point should we expect that his repentance would naturally turn? Not to his primary quarrel with Agamemnôn, in which he had been undeniably wronged,—but to the scene in the ninth book, where the maximum of atonement for the previous wrong is tendered to him and scornfully rejected. Yet when we turn to xviii. 108, and xix. 55, 68, 270, we find him reverting to the primitive quarrel in the first book, just as if it had been the last incident in his relations with Agamemnôn: moreover, Agamemnôn (xix. 86), in his speech of reconciliation, treats the past just in the same way,—deplores his original insanity in wronging Achilles.
7. When we look to the prayers of Achilles and Thetis, addressed to Zeus in the first book, we find that the consummation prayed for is,—honor to Achilles,—redress for the wrong offered to him,—victory to the Trojans until Agamemnôn and the Greeks shall be made bitterly sensible of the wrong which they have done to their bravest warrior (i. 409-509). Now this consummation is brought about in the ninth book. Achilles can get no more, nor does he ultimately get more, either in the way of redress to himself or remorseful humiliation of Agamemnôn, than what is here tendered. The defeat which the Greeks suffer in the battle of the eighth book (Κόλος Μάχη) has brought about the consummation. The subsequent and much more destructive defeats which they undergo are thus causeless: yet Zeus is represented as inflicting them reluctantly, and only because they are necessary to honor Achilles (xiii. 350; xv. 75, 235, 598; compare also viii. 372 and 475).
If we reflect upon the constitution of the poem, we shall see that the fundamental sequence of ideas in it is, a series of misfortunes to the Greeks, brought on by Zeus for the special purpose of procuring atonement to Achilles and bringing humiliation on Agamemnôn: the introduction of Patroclus superadds new motives of the utmost interest, but it is most harmoniously worked into the fundamental sequence. Now the intrusion of the ninth book breaks up the scheme of the poem by disuniting the sequence: Agamemnôn is on his knees before Achilles, entreating pardon and proffering reparation, yet the calamities of the Greeks become more and more dreadful. The atonement of the ninth book comes at the wrong time and in the wrong manner.
There are four passages (and only four, so far as I am aware) in which the embassy of the ninth book is alluded to in the subsequent books: one in xviii. 444-456, which was expunged as spurious by Aristarchus (see the Scholia and Knight’s commentary, ad loc.); and three others in the following book, wherein the gifts previously tendered by Odysseus as the envoy of Agamemnôn are noticed as identical with the gifts actually given in the nineteenth book. I feel persuaded that these passages (vv. 140-141, 192-195, and 243) are specially inserted for the purpose of establishing a connection between the ninth book and the nineteenth. The four lines (192-195) are decidedly better away: the first two lines (140-141) are noway necessary; while the word χθιζὸς (which occurs in both passages) is only rendered admissible by being stretched to mean nudius tertius (Heyne, ad loc.).
I will only farther remark with respect to the ninth book, that the speech of Agamemnôn (17-28), the theme for the rebuke of Diomêdês and the obscure commonplace of Nestor, is taken verbatim from his speech in the second book, in which place the proposition, of leaving the place and flying, is made, not seriously, but as a stratagem (ii. 110, 118, 140).
The length of this note can only be excused by its direct bearing upon the structure of the Iliad. To show that the books from the eleventh downwards are composed by a poet who has no knowledge of the ninth book, is, in my judgment, a very important point of evidence in aiding us to understand what the original Achillêis was. The books from the second to the seventh inclusive are insertions into the Achillêis, and lie apart from its plot, but do not violently contradict it, except in regard to the agora of the gods at the beginning of the fourth book, and the almost mortal wound of Sarpêdon in his battle with Tlepolemus. But the ninth book overthrows the fundamental scheme of the poem.
[290] Helbig (Sittl. Zustände des Heldenalters, p. 30) says, “The consciousness in the bosom of Agamemnôn that he has offered atonement to Achilles strengthens his confidence and valor,” &c. This is the idea of the critic, not of the poet. It does not occur in the Iliad, though the critic not unnaturally imagines that it must occur. Agamemnôn never says, “I was wrong in provoking Achilles, but you see I have done everything which man could do to beg his pardon.” Assuming the ninth book to be a part of the original conception, this feeling is so natural, that we could hardly fail to find it, at the beginning of the eleventh book, numbered among the motives of Agamemnôn.
[291] Iliad, xi. 659; xiv. 128; xvi. 25.
[292] The intervention of Oneirus ought rather to come as an immediate preliminary to book viii. than to book ii. The first forty-seven lines of book ii would fit on and read consistently at the beginning of book viii, the events of which book form a proper sequel to the mission of Oneirus.
[293] O. Müller, (History of Greek Literature, ch. v. § 8,) doubts whether the beginning of the second book was written “by the ancient Homer, or by one of the later Homerids:” he thinks the speech of Agamemnôn, wherein he plays off the deceit upon his army, is “a copious parody (of the same words used in the ninth book) composed by a later Homerid, and inserted in the room of an originally shorter account of the arming of the Greeks.” He treats the scene in the Grecian agora as “an entire mythical comedy, full of fine irony and with an amusing plot, in which the deceiving and deceived Agamemnôn is the chief character.”