de Gruyter (2017) 324pp £117.99 (9781501504396)
The ‘Basel commentary’ has been appearing in German since 2000, and has been widely and rightly acclaimed. Its rationale was explained by J. Latacz, one of the overall editors, at https://bmcr.brynmawr.edu/1997/97.07.12.html. The English version, edited by S.D. Olson and translated by Benjamin W. Millis and Sara Strack, began to appear in 2011 with the long volume of Prolegomena (reviewed for CfA by Colin Leach, https://classicsforallreviews.wordpress.com/2015/10/26/homers-iliad-the-basel-commentary-prolegomena/).
Book 24 has been moved early in the queue both in the German sequence and the English, and that is welcome and wise. The commentaries need to be taken closely with the volume of Prolegomena, and consequently lack full introductions: they do however include a brief summary of the action preceded by a handy ‘24 rules relating to Homeric language’ that many will find helpful (though not always beginner-friendly: readers are expected to know about ‘the Ionic-Attic sound change’ and understand ‘quantitative metathesis’). A forest of idiosyncratic abbreviations also takes some getting used to in the commentary itself. But it should immediately be said that this volume, like the others, is a monument of precise and learned scholarship, and the Anglophone world will be immensely grateful to have it made more accessible, especially as a casual reader would have no inkling that it began life in a different language. Translators are an underappreciated breed, and Millis and Strack deserve any prizes (there should be more) that may be on offer.
Anglophone readers already have two very good commentaries, those of Colin Macleod (1982), widely regarded as one of the jewels of the green-and-yellow series, and of Nicholas Richardson in the blue Cambridge series (1993). For university and (one just about still hopes) for school use Macleod will continue to dominate, and not simply for reasons of cost (a fivefold different between that book and this) and practical digestibility (an average of 11 Homeric lines per page in Macleod as against fewer than 3 in Brügger): the absence of a separate introduction in the Basel commentary is also a big minus here. But all three books will be much thumbed in libraries, and Brügger is particularly full and helpful in his bibliographical references. There is an immense amount of learning and good scholarly judgement here.
To sample the merits of each I compared three sections dealing with particularly problematic or marvellous passages, the judgement of Paris (22–30), Priam’s arrival in Achilles’ tent (468–84), and the closing lament for Hector that the poet allows, strikingly, to Helen (761–76).
The judgement of Paris (24.23–30)
Why is mention of this delayed to so late in the poem? And why, given that the poem has got along without it so far, mention it now at all? Aristarchus deleted at least some of the passage, probably ll. 25–30, partly on grounds of propriety; the bT scholia add a number of other reasons, e.g. that the judgement gives no explanation for the hostility of Poseidon (but we have one already—Laomedon cheated him after he had built the city walls, 21.441–60). Classic articles by Reinhardt in 1938 and Davies in 1981 explained respectively that the story can be sensed to underlie several earlier phases of the action and that it figures here to emphasise that the divine wrath will continue. All three commentators agree that on balance the lines should be kept, but Richardson is the only one to set out and counter the objections in detail. Both he and Macleod, but not Brügger, also comment on the curt and elliptical style, in line with other passages alluding to events before or after the action of the poem. Where Brügger scores is in his narratologically inflected analysis of the language—Paris ‘insulting’ (νείκεσσε) Athena and Hera, the ‘randiness’ (Macleod’s translation of μαχλοσύνην) that Aphrodite offered, and its ‘painful’ (ἀλεγεινήν) consequences—for the goddesses and also for Troy. This is how Hera and Athena would have seen and phrased it; ‘randiness’ focuses on Paris’ lust rather than Helen herself (Macleod), but that too helps to explain why he and his people are the goddesses’ target.
Priam’s arrival (24.468–84)
Macleod’s two pages on this, together with a little more in his Introduction (pp. 24, 34–5), are a marvel of succinctness. Like Richardson and Brügger he compares the arrival of the envoys in Book 9, but he is the one to bring out most clearly a critical point: Patroclus was with Achilles in Book 9, and here his absence is pointed by the way his role has passed to other companions. In ten lines of commentary Macleod also captures the reversals of Priam’s situation in the remarkable simile of 480–2 (the murderer from far away who arrives startlingly in a rich man’s house), and shows how they heighten the intensity. Macleod thought that the refugee’s atē reflected the way that Priam’s journey too had seemed mad, and I think so too; Brügger does not. Still, something is lost in Macleod’s curtness. The awfulness of kissing those ‘terrible hands, man-slaying hands, hands that had killed so many of his sons’ is muted by Macleod’s simple ‘a tricolon crescendo’, and it is the other two who bring out the pathos in the gathering precision, each element making clearer the repugnance to the bereaved father. Brügger is best of the three on the drama of the mise-en-scène: the initial speed—Priam ‘leaping’ down—then the slowing; then the treatment of the companions, with Automedon and Alcimus gradually disappearing as the focus sharpens. It matters that everyone, not just Achilles, feels ‘amazement’ at Priam’s arrival (they look at one another, 483), but by 628–32 the mutual ‘wondering’ is for Achilles and Priam alone.
Helen’s lament (24.761–76)
Why Helen? Brügger brings out the appropriateness of ending with the woman who was ‘the causa belli (and thus ultimately the initiator of Hektor’s death)’; Macleod adds a characteristic touch by commenting on the focus on kindness as ‘the final image we receive of one of the Iliad’s great warriors, in a book where the humaner virtues are overtly affirmed’. Macleod is also fullest and best in exploring the ‘wonderfully subtle and expressive style’ in which that kindness is captured, though Richardson and Brügger are better in bringing out the physicality of the final word, the ‘shuddering’ (πεφρίκασιν) that Helen encounters from everyone. All three are good on the continuity with Helen’s previous characterisation and on why we need not worry too much about the ‘twenty years’ that she says have elapsed since she left Sparta. All agree, too, that Helen is wishing that ‘I’, Aristarchus’ reading, rather than ‘Paris’, the vulgate, had died before it all happened: Macleod made the case best, and Brügger now does not even think the issue worth discussing. It is interesting that Helen is so frank, in Hecuba’s presence, about her mother-in-law’s sharp tongue: Brügger is fullest there, and right, I think, to sense that there is more to it than Macleod’s ‘natural … in a lament’. But Richardson is the only one to comment, not just that the echoing refrain is phrased differently after each of the three laments, but also that there is point in the dēmos, not only the women, being the ones to pick up from Helen.
So, as one might expect, all three works have immense merits, and they often complement one another. In his BMCR introduction to the series Latacz explained that it was a step towards bringing the Anglophone and the German-language traditions of Homeric scholarship together—they had indeed diverged in post-war scholarship more than in most classical fields. The English language had its blue Cambridge commentary and German now needed its counterpart, paying attention to English language scholarship just as the Cambridge editors had to the German. The two traditions have converged a little in the last twenty years (not least thanks to the publication in 1997 of Homer: German Scholarship in Translation, edited by P.V. Jones, not unknown in the CfA parish, and G.M. Wright), and this excellent volume will play its part in ensuring that this continues.
Christopher Pelling
HOMER’S ILIAD: THE BASEL COMMENTARY BOOK XXIV
de Gruyter (2017) 324pp £117.99 (9781501504396)
The ‘Basel commentary’ has been appearing in German since 2000, and has been widely and rightly acclaimed. Its rationale was explained by J. Latacz, one of the overall editors, at https://bmcr.brynmawr.edu/1997/97.07.12.html. The English version, edited by S.D. Olson and translated by Benjamin W. Millis and Sara Strack, began to appear in 2011 with the long volume of Prolegomena (reviewed for CfA by Colin Leach, https://classicsforallreviews.wordpress.com/2015/10/26/homers-iliad-the-basel-commentary-prolegomena/).
Book 24 has been moved early in the queue both in the German sequence and the English, and that is welcome and wise. The commentaries need to be taken closely with the volume of Prolegomena, and consequently lack full introductions: they do however include a brief summary of the action preceded by a handy ‘24 rules relating to Homeric language’ that many will find helpful (though not always beginner-friendly: readers are expected to know about ‘the Ionic-Attic sound change’ and understand ‘quantitative metathesis’). A forest of idiosyncratic abbreviations also takes some getting used to in the commentary itself. But it should immediately be said that this volume, like the others, is a monument of precise and learned scholarship, and the Anglophone world will be immensely grateful to have it made more accessible, especially as a casual reader would have no inkling that it began life in a different language. Translators are an underappreciated breed, and Millis and Strack deserve any prizes (there should be more) that may be on offer.
Anglophone readers already have two very good commentaries, those of Colin Macleod (1982), widely regarded as one of the jewels of the green-and-yellow series, and of Nicholas Richardson in the blue Cambridge series (1993). For university and (one just about still hopes) for school use Macleod will continue to dominate, and not simply for reasons of cost (a fivefold different between that book and this) and practical digestibility (an average of 11 Homeric lines per page in Macleod as against fewer than 3 in Brügger): the absence of a separate introduction in the Basel commentary is also a big minus here. But all three books will be much thumbed in libraries, and Brügger is particularly full and helpful in his bibliographical references. There is an immense amount of learning and good scholarly judgement here.
To sample the merits of each I compared three sections dealing with particularly problematic or marvellous passages, the judgement of Paris (22–30), Priam’s arrival in Achilles’ tent (468–84), and the closing lament for Hector that the poet allows, strikingly, to Helen (761–76).
The judgement of Paris (24.23–30)
Why is mention of this delayed to so late in the poem? And why, given that the poem has got along without it so far, mention it now at all? Aristarchus deleted at least some of the passage, probably ll. 25–30, partly on grounds of propriety; the bT scholia add a number of other reasons, e.g. that the judgement gives no explanation for the hostility of Poseidon (but we have one already—Laomedon cheated him after he had built the city walls, 21.441–60). Classic articles by Reinhardt in 1938 and Davies in 1981 explained respectively that the story can be sensed to underlie several earlier phases of the action and that it figures here to emphasise that the divine wrath will continue. All three commentators agree that on balance the lines should be kept, but Richardson is the only one to set out and counter the objections in detail. Both he and Macleod, but not Brügger, also comment on the curt and elliptical style, in line with other passages alluding to events before or after the action of the poem. Where Brügger scores is in his narratologically inflected analysis of the language—Paris ‘insulting’ (νείκεσσε) Athena and Hera, the ‘randiness’ (Macleod’s translation of μαχλοσύνην) that Aphrodite offered, and its ‘painful’ (ἀλεγεινήν) consequences—for the goddesses and also for Troy. This is how Hera and Athena would have seen and phrased it; ‘randiness’ focuses on Paris’ lust rather than Helen herself (Macleod), but that too helps to explain why he and his people are the goddesses’ target.
Priam’s arrival (24.468–84)
Macleod’s two pages on this, together with a little more in his Introduction (pp. 24, 34–5), are a marvel of succinctness. Like Richardson and Brügger he compares the arrival of the envoys in Book 9, but he is the one to bring out most clearly a critical point: Patroclus was with Achilles in Book 9, and here his absence is pointed by the way his role has passed to other companions. In ten lines of commentary Macleod also captures the reversals of Priam’s situation in the remarkable simile of 480–2 (the murderer from far away who arrives startlingly in a rich man’s house), and shows how they heighten the intensity. Macleod thought that the refugee’s atē reflected the way that Priam’s journey too had seemed mad, and I think so too; Brügger does not. Still, something is lost in Macleod’s curtness. The awfulness of kissing those ‘terrible hands, man-slaying hands, hands that had killed so many of his sons’ is muted by Macleod’s simple ‘a tricolon crescendo’, and it is the other two who bring out the pathos in the gathering precision, each element making clearer the repugnance to the bereaved father. Brügger is best of the three on the drama of the mise-en-scène: the initial speed—Priam ‘leaping’ down—then the slowing; then the treatment of the companions, with Automedon and Alcimus gradually disappearing as the focus sharpens. It matters that everyone, not just Achilles, feels ‘amazement’ at Priam’s arrival (they look at one another, 483), but by 628–32 the mutual ‘wondering’ is for Achilles and Priam alone.
Helen’s lament (24.761–76)
Why Helen? Brügger brings out the appropriateness of ending with the woman who was ‘the causa belli (and thus ultimately the initiator of Hektor’s death)’; Macleod adds a characteristic touch by commenting on the focus on kindness as ‘the final image we receive of one of the Iliad’s great warriors, in a book where the humaner virtues are overtly affirmed’. Macleod is also fullest and best in exploring the ‘wonderfully subtle and expressive style’ in which that kindness is captured, though Richardson and Brügger are better in bringing out the physicality of the final word, the ‘shuddering’ (πεφρίκασιν) that Helen encounters from everyone. All three are good on the continuity with Helen’s previous characterisation and on why we need not worry too much about the ‘twenty years’ that she says have elapsed since she left Sparta. All agree, too, that Helen is wishing that ‘I’, Aristarchus’ reading, rather than ‘Paris’, the vulgate, had died before it all happened: Macleod made the case best, and Brügger now does not even think the issue worth discussing. It is interesting that Helen is so frank, in Hecuba’s presence, about her mother-in-law’s sharp tongue: Brügger is fullest there, and right, I think, to sense that there is more to it than Macleod’s ‘natural … in a lament’. But Richardson is the only one to comment, not just that the echoing refrain is phrased differently after each of the three laments, but also that there is point in the dēmos, not only the women, being the ones to pick up from Helen.
So, as one might expect, all three works have immense merits, and they often complement one another. In his BMCR introduction to the series Latacz explained that it was a step towards bringing the Anglophone and the German-language traditions of Homeric scholarship together—they had indeed diverged in post-war scholarship more than in most classical fields. The English language had its blue Cambridge commentary and German now needed its counterpart, paying attention to English language scholarship just as the Cambridge editors had to the German. The two traditions have converged a little in the last twenty years (not least thanks to the publication in 1997 of Homer: German Scholarship in Translation, edited by P.V. Jones, not unknown in the CfA parish, and G.M. Wright), and this excellent volume will play its part in ensuring that this continues.
Christopher Pelling