Homer’s Iliad and the Trojan War
Page 7
In their own ways, both images make use of visual ambiguities in order to question the social and, in particular, the gendered roles of their day. In the case of the Euthymides amphora, two contrasting yet ‘typical’ areas of elite male activity are depicted together, resulting in a destabilization both of received male roles and of ideas about class and status. In the case of Rossetti’s Helen of Troy, accepted notions about female sexuality and agency are raised, particularly in relation to the wider discourse in nineteenth-century British art on subversive women. Both images therefore challenged the social norms of their respective historical contexts. And significantly, both images made use of Iliadic ideas in order to do this.
The two examples chosen include one from an historical period when the Iliad was becoming increasingly important within the Trojan War tradition and one where it already occupied a central position. In late sixth-century Athens, the Homeric poems had recently been incorporated into civic ritual, but were not yet as culturally dominant as they came to be a few decades later in the early fifth century. In contrast, in late nineteenth-century Britain, several decades of cultural and political philhellenism had ensured widespread knowledge of and respect for ancient Greek literature, and the place of the Homeric poems was especially well established.
Naoíse: Euthymides’ pioneer politics
This amphora presents us with a striking visual image of the Trojan War (Figure 2.1).1 It depicts Hector arming in the presence of his aged parents, Priam and Hecuba. Each of the figures is labelled, ensuring that the (literate) viewer will make no mistake as to their identities. The pathos of the scene lies in the viewer’s knowledge of the tragic fate that will soon befall its characters – Hector’s death at the hands of Achilles (Il. 22.247–366), the murder of Priam (which Priam himself foretells in Il. 22.66–8), and the enslavement of Hecuba and the other women of Troy (again foretold by Priam in Il. 22.59–65).2
Figure 2.1 Red-figure amphora signed by Euthymides (Munich, Staatliche Antikenssamlungen Inv. 2307). Side A: Hector arming, flanked by Priam and Hecuba.
The scene itself does not appear in the Iliad. The image on the pot is therefore not an ‘illustration’ of the poem3 – instead in its basic form it replicates a fairly standard type-scene of the arming warrior.4 And yet, this scene has some obviously Iliadic resonances. The location appears to be indoors, as suggested by its enclosure within a patterned border,5 and the scene is therefore reminiscent of Book 6 of the Iliad, especially Hector’s encounter with Hecuba (Il. 6.251–295). Even more directly, by bringing Hector together with both of his parents, the scene recalls the start of Book 22 of the Iliad, where both Priam and Hecuba encounter their son outside at the gates of the city and appeal to him to turn away from combat (Il. 22.1–89). But perhaps the most glaring visual reference to the Iliad is the treatment of Hector’s helmet. This is depicted at the top centre of the image, conspicuously breaking through the borders of the scene. The viewer is meant to notice this helmet – and perhaps to be reminded of the association between Hector and his helmet in the Iliad. In the poem, Hector’s most common epithet is κορυθαιόλος (‘of the shining helmet’),6 and the helmet also features centrally in one of the poem’s most emotionally charged scenes – Hector’s final farewell to his wife and son, where the baby Astyanax is frightened by the bristling helm (Il. 6.467–496).
This picture is therefore, although not actually Iliadic, certainly reminiscent of the Iliad in a way we might call ‘peri-Iliadic’. For a contemporary Athenian audience at the end of the sixth century, it would have been impossible to look at this image and not to think of the Homeric Hector – a man who was central to his community, just as he is central to this scene; and a man whose heroic demise was to bring about the final downfall of his city. While the scene does not depict an episode from the Iliad, it nonetheless recalls the poem and raises Iliadic expectations.
Given that this amphora’s likely primary context of use was the symposium, the Iliadic expectations it raised would have been made some comment on the ideology of the elite citizen man in late archaic Athens.7 Although there is some debate over the exclusivity of the symposium, in the archaic period it was usually associated with aristocratic (or at least wealthy) citizen men.8 Viewed in such a context, images like this picture of Hector would have been a reminder of civic duty, gender roles, and class expectations. At first glance therefore, Hector seems to be presented here as a moral exemplum – the ideal type of the citizen man.
The Euthymides amphora
In terms of composition, the arrangement of three standing figures in a frame seems to have been characteristic of Euthymides’ individual style. A particularly close comparison can be found in another amphora: a man labelled as ‘θΟΡΥΚΙΟΝ’ (Thorykion, or ‘wearer-of-a-breastplate’) dons a cuirass, and is flanked on either side by Scythian warriors.9 In both the Hector and the Thorykion scenes, the eye of the viewer is drawn directly to the centre of the scene, because of both the inward-turning flanking figures and the directional movement of the central figure’s arms. In addition, the central figures in both scenes have a forward-turned foot, facing out of the vase towards the viewer. This was one of Euthymides’ significant stylistic innovations – it is not until nearly a century later that we find the technique used again in Athenian vase painting.10 This detail serves to bring the central figure forwards, stepping out of the two-dimensional frame towards the viewer.
Another significant aspect of the composition is its verticality. The upright lines of the figures are heightened by the vertical folds of drapery and the line of Priam’s staff, creating an impression of stiffness and formality. This is somewhat disrupted by the diagonal slant of the shield, Hecuba’s staff and her outstretched arm, reaching across to place a helmet on her son’s head. As already mentioned, the helmet itself breaks through the frame, rupturing the otherwise carefully ordered scene. The gaze of both Hector and Priam is directed downwards, perhaps indicating stillness and reflection; Hecuba alone looks straight across the scene. The composition is as awkward as it is striking, with a tension created between stillness and movement, formality and intimacy.
This impression is further heightened when we consider the scene on the other side of the amphora (Figure 2.2). This depicts a topsy-turvy inversion of the Hector scene, the opposite side of the pot giving us a contrasting perspective on the elite citizen man. It features three standing figures once more, but unlike the upright characters of the Hector scene we are presented with three twisted individuals – their bodies physically contorted and their limbs splayed at various clashing angles. The men appear to be dancing, not in any ordered or formal fashion, but in a chaotic and individualistic manner. With the movement, their cloaks are slipping off their bodies, revealing the naked flesh underneath. Thiers is not an heroic nudity however – the flesh uncovered is saggy, and while they still retain some muscle, these bodies are far from the ideal manly physique.11 The men have clearly been drinking – they wear wreaths of vine leaves, and instead of Hecuba holding out her son’s helmet, the man on the left of the scene clutches a kantharos, presumably full of wine. In contrast to the sober verticality of Priam’s staff, the central figure in this scene wields his staff at head level, breaking through the top frame in a direct mirroring of the helmet in the Hector scene. Once more, two of the three figures are looking downwards, while the man on the left directs his gaze straight across the frame. In terms of composition, we are presented with a distorted mirror image of the Hector scene.
Figure 2.2 Red-figure amphora signed by Euthymides (Munich, Staatliche Antikenssamlungen Inv. 2307). Side B: Three drunken revellers.
This figures on this side of the amphora are, like those in the Hector scene, tagged with labels. Above the raised hand of the figure on the left is the word ‘ΚΟΜΑΡΧΟΣ’; between the legs of the central figure is written ‘ΕΥEΔΕΜΟΣ’; over the arm of the figure on the right is ‘ΤΕΛΕΣ’, while between his legs is ‘ΕΛΕΟΠΙ’. The labels attached
to each of the three drunken revellers are vital for their interpretation. The man on the left seems to be directing the party, as his name literally suggests – he is the leader (archos) of the revels (komos). The name of the central figure may be more tongue-in-cheek, as the behaviour portrayed is certainly not what is associated with good or proper (as indicated by the prefix eu-) members of the citizen body (the demos).12 The man on the right is clearly meant to be thought of as the final figure of the scene, as his name literally means ‘last one’. The name itself is written in reverse and runs along his outstretched arm, while a second inscription runs along his raised leg. This second label (eleopi) seems to be a nonsense inscription, as it bears no similarity to any known Greek word.13 The implication is that Teles is where the party is bound to end up – nonsense and gobbledegook, with things the wrong way around.
The two scenes – that of Hector and that of the revellers – are designed to be viewed in tandem. In content as well as in composition, one is clearly meant to be the opposite of the other: the ideal of Iliadic manhood is subverted by the self-consciously naughty behaviour of the three komasts. The contrast of the scenes results in a questioning of received social roles, and in particular undermines a clear notion of elite masculinity. Although it might initially seem that the pot presents the viewer with ‘good’ and ‘bad’ role models,14 it is unclear, given the symposiastic context in which the amphora would have been viewed, who the viewer might have identified with. Is this a case of ideal versus reality – the exemplar of the elite citizen man contrasted with his real-life counterpart? Or is this a case of conflicting personal choices; would you chose to end up like Hector (glorious but dead), or like Teles (misbehaving but having fun)? Or perhaps these are two sides of the same coin – the elite man both getting dressed for battle and falling out of his clothes at a party? With this amphora, Euthymides is not instructing the viewer or dictating what the response to the images ought to be. Rather, the contrast of the two scenes poses questions which only the viewer can answer for himself (and the primary viewer would most likely have been a him). The juxtaposed scenes create an ideological instability around the traditional role of the elite man.
The politics of the pot
Euthymides painted these scenes in the late archaic period, between around 510 and 500 BCE. His artistic choices must be seen in the context of wider developments in Athens at this time. A generation later, the Trojan War would come to be seen as a parallel for the Persian Wars, and images of Troy would acquire an ethnic significance.15 At this moment, however, the Trojan War and the poem of the Iliad in particular were more closely associated with the politics of class.
The Iliad offers a vision of aristocratic ideals, and while it explores tensions within the aristocracy and presents negative instances of leadership, it ultimately upholds these ideals.16 Its contents aside, the poem would also have had aristocratic associations in late archaic Athens by virtue of its cultural status. It would have been performed at a range of different public events including religious festivals and musical contests, and it would also have featured at occasions that highlighted aristocratic identity, such as at the symposium or feasts.17 In addition, it seems that the Homeric poems were promoted by leading aristocrats over the course of the sixth century. The Peisistratid dynasty is closely associated with the popularization of the epics: with Peisistratus himself sometimes said to have produced an edition of the poems;18 and his oldest son, Hipparchus, credited for bringing the Homeric epics to Attica.19 The institution of full recitals of the poems at the Panathenaea, with rhapsodes picking up from each other in relay, is attributed to either Hipparchus or Solon.20 More widely, several Athenian aristocratic families claimed descent from the heroes of the Iliad – the Alcmeonidae and the Peisistratids both traced their ancestry to Nestor, while the Philaedae claimed the Telamonian Ajax amongst their forefathers.21 In late sixth-century Athens therefore, the Iliad would had had inescapably aristocratic associations.22
This would have meant that the Iliad occupied a problematic cultural space in the closing years of the century. This period saw the power struggles between leading aristocratic families take on a new popularist flavour. In 510 BCE, the Peisistratid tyrant Hippias was expelled, and the Alcmaeonid statesman Cleisthenes eventually emerged in 507/8 BCE as the leading politician in the city. Cleisthenes relied on a broad base of popular support in order to maintain his position, and undertook a series of reforms which are often credited as marking the revolutionary start of Athenian democracy.23 While the extent to which the new system might be considered ‘democracy’ is open for debate, it is evident that the fast-moving politics of the day were characterized by a new emphasis on popularism and the demos of Athens.24
The new politics had an impact on the physical environment of the acropolis, at the very heart of the city. Particularly prominent was the dedication of a monumental bronze statue group of Harmodius and Aristogeiton, the ‘tyrant-slayers’, on the acropolis. The commissioning of this statue group at state expense would have been an overtly political statement, not least because it was a public portrait of individuals from recent history (the first of its kind according to Pliny, NH 34.17).25 Around the same time, non-aristocratic Athenians became increasingly visible on the acropolis through private dedications.26 Amongst these new dedicators, several explicitly identified themselves as potters, while others can be linked to pot painters known from vase inscriptions. While many of these non-aristocratic dedicators chose traditional votive forms such as kouroi and korai, others such as the dedicator of the ‘Potter Relief’ used their votives to portray their professional activities.27 Items may even have been dedicated by Euthymides’ immediate circle – a group of potters and pot painters known as the ‘Pioneer Group’ (for more on which see below). One such individual, Euphronios, left a marble pillar with a fragmentary inscription recording his dedication of a tithe, explicitly referring to his profession: ‘Euphronios dedicated this … the potter: to Athena a tithe’ ([Ε]ὐφρόνιος [⋮ἀνέθηκε]ν [⋮—c. 7—] | κεραμεὺς ⋮[τἀθεναί]αι δε[κάτεν]).28
When Euthymides sat down to paint this particular amphora, therefore, he did so in an Athens that was gripped by political transformation and a new popularist fervour. His choice of subject matter must be seen in this context, as must the likely responses of contemporary Athenian viewers. Both scenes on this amphora would have had aristocratic associations. The image of Hector arming recalled the Iliadic model of the elite male warrior and the aristocratic world of Homeric poetry; while the scene of drunken revellers located it at the symposium, the prevailing cultural image of which was still aristocratic. The pot was clearly political. It remains unclear precisely how we should interpret the politics of the pot however. Is Euthymides lampooning the aristocracy (you might think you are like this, a heroic Hector; but actually you are really like this, a bunch of flabby drunks)? Or is he condoning aristocratic license (of course, sometimes you behave like this, in drunken fun; but that’s okay because when necessary you also act like this, staunch in the face of duty)? Euthymides’ amphora provokes questions, rather than offering answers; the pot presents its viewer with a playful reflection on the role models, ideals, and behaviour of elite men in late archaic Athens. That Euthymides does this on a vessel designed for use in the symposium, and during a time of marked political change, adds an immediacy and timeliness to the visual play.
The Pioneer Group
Euthymides was not the only Athenian pot painter using his work to engage in political commentary at this time. The ‘Pioneer Group’ has already been mentioned in this chapter; this is the name given to a set of painters active at around the same time in late archaic Athens, who may have worked within a single workshop but who were certainly aware of and influenced by each others’ work.29 These painters were not only innovators in their early use of the red-figure technique of decoration, but also in their developing new methods of representing the human body, to include complex
physical poses and movement.30
As well as their technical originality, the Pioneer Group are also characterized by their engagement with the playfulness and the politics of the symposium, and with their interest in the public persona of the artist. This latter characteristic manifests itself most clearly in the signing of vases, in which pot painters explicitly claimed their work as their own. For example, this particular amphora was signed by Euthymides between the figures of Priam and Hector: ΕΥΘΥΜΙΔΕΣ ΕΓΡΑΦΣΕΝ HΟ ΠΟΛΙΟ (‘Euthymides the son of Pollio painted this’). While some used their own names in these signatures, in other cases pseudonyms may have been used, creating fictive artistic personae not unlike the modern graffiti artist ‘Banksy’.31 Bringing together image and text, in some scenes figures were also labelled with the names of known potters from the Group, resulting in a set of scenes known as the ‘potter portraits’.32 Overall, these were pot painters who were crucially interested in their own identities as the painters of pots.33
This interest is evident on Euthymides’ amphora. As well as the signature on the Hector scene, on the opposite side of the pot another inscription runs along the left-hand frame, claiming: HΟΣ ΟΥΔΕΠΟΤΕ ΕΥΦΡΟΝΙΟΣ (‘as never Euphronios’ or ‘Euphronios never did this’). The two authorial inscriptions on this pot are often understood as a proud boast about technical prowess – Euthymides is taunting a rival, claiming that Euphronios never painted anything as accomplished as the scenes on this amphora.34 This is certainly one possibility, and it would indicate that a traditionally humble (and definitely non-aristocratic) profession had become an arena for status competition. This would also suggest that the agonistic ethic, previously focused on elite activities such as athletics, had spread to craftsmanship; and that art had become a valid way to make both fortunes and reputations. Such a reading would sit comfortably with the new political rhetoric of social mobility and with other evidence for the status of craftspeople, especially potters at this time.