What is the difference between the Greeks Trojans?

[Prologue, Romeo Juliet]

Two households, both alike in dignity…

lt;/p>If you were to ask – how should one tell apart Capulet and Montague? – an answer might begin with customs, with kin and alliances. Then I might presume that any neat distinction belongs naturally to the Elizabethan fashion for having Italy be the stage of whatever political intrigue seemed colourful at the time. But that is scarcely the point. I could even conclude that Romeo and Juliet is an illicit discourse on corruption and civic faction in 16^th century England. And I would be ignored, rightly. Because there is, in truth, no difference – and the real question Shakespeare is asking depends on this. Any prejudice one way or another would distract our sympathy from the feud itself.[1] So I do not like the question. I will answer it only so far as to establish the exact opposite. Then, perhaps, the simplest argument – that one side fights at home, and one away – will prove to be the only argument.

lt;/p>The first likely cultural divide should be language. Β&ά&ρ&β&α&ρ&ο&ς&, after all, denoted only foreign speech before it acquired a more pejorative sense& consider also the Odyssey’s ἀ&λ&λ&ό&θ&ρ&ο&υ&ς& and ἀ&γ&ρ&ι&ό&φ&ω&ν&ο&ςlt;/i>. The only equivalent in the Iliad is the β&α&ρ&β&α&ρ&ο&φ&ώ&ν&ο&ι&[2] Carians (II.867). Even this is suspect. The Carians come from Ionia, where Greeks had been for at least two hundred years before Homer.[3] Perhaps a post-Homeric intrusion then.[4] We’ll move to firmer ground. Linguistic diversity is twice attested[5] among the Trojan ἐ&π&ί&κ&ο&υ&ρ&ο&ιlt;/i>. Iris, as Polites, tells Hector to set the men in order, among whom ἄ&λ&λ&η& δ&᾽& ἄ&λ&λ&ω&ν& γ&λ&ῶ&σ&σ&α&.[6] Any slight behind this, that their γ&λ&ῶ&σ&σ&α& μ&έ&μ&ι&κ&τ&οlt;/i>?[7] Perhaps when the Trojans march κ&λ&α&γ&γ&ῇ& τ&᾽& ἐ&ν&ο&π&ῇlt;/i>,[8] and the Achaeans lt;i>σ&ι&γ&ῇlt;/i>.[9] To Edwards, the “polyglot clamour” is a “way of contrasting the basic unity of the Greeks” [10]& he neglects, of course, that the Achaeans are the riotous ones at XI.50 and XIII.169, that the Trojans are silent at XIII.39-44, and that both are clamorous at XIV.400. Nor are the ἐ&π&ί&κ&ο&υ&ρ&ο&ιlt;/i> themselves disdained. The Lycian commanders, Glaukos and Sarpedon, stand out even from the first& without hesitation, the former faces Diomedes (VI.119ff.), the latter rallies Hector (V.147ff.).[11] They are standards for nobility, for daring. But shouldn’t names also be considered? Many Trojans and their allies have Greek names, such as Andromache and Alexander,[12] many, too, Balkan and Asiatic[13] names, Dares, Assaracus, Sarpedon, Rhesus, Priam, Paris. Foreign colouring, perhaps.[14] Acceptance, surely. Still, there is another language – that of the gods. And from six references (Il.I.403& II.814& XIV.291& XX.74& Od. X.305& XII.61) where the name that immortals give to something is more closely related to a Greek root than its mortal counterpart, we must conclude that the Greeks took their own language to be divine. [15] A generous attempt, but Old Anatolian[16] is more closely related. And regardless, the ‘language’ of the gods concerns words from the mystery cults, not ethnicity.[17] But this suggests our next point of distinction, religion.

lt;/p>The same gods are served, the same cult-practices observed by Greek and Trojan alike. Athena has her temple in Troy, though she favours its enemy. Apollo can favour Troy, [18] and be the patron of Kalchas.[19] Reputedly a “pious and god-favoured city”,[20] even to have associated with Olympians (through Laomedon and Ganymedes), it should not surprise us that [Δ&ῐ&ῐ&́lt;/i>] π&ε&ρ&ὶ& κ&ῆ&ρ&ι& τ&ι&έ&σ&κ&ε&τ&ο& Ἴ&λ&ι&ο&ς& ἱ&ρ&ὴ& | κ&α&ὶ& Π&ρ&ί&α&μ&ο&ς& κ&α&ὶ& λ&α&ὸ&ς&… Π&ρ&ι&ά&μ&ο&ι&ο&.[21] Trojans had always seen to the λ&ά&χ&ο&μ&ε&ν& γ&έ&ρ&α&ςlt;/i>, the rightful honour, of the gods& ο&ὐ&… μ&ο&ί& π&ο&τ&ε& β&ω&μ&ὸ&ς& ἐ&δ&ε&ύ&ε&τ&ο& δ&α&ι&τ&ὸ&ς& ἐ&ΐ&σ&η&ς& | λ&ο&ι&β&ῆ&ς& τ&ε& κ&ν&ί&σ&η&ς& τ&εlt;/i>. For Hall, it is “almost possible to argue that their tendance of heaven is superior to that of the Achaeans.”[22] Hector himself was especially dutiful& ἐ&π&ε&ὶ& ο&ὔ& π&ο&τ&᾽& ἐ&μ&ὸ&ς& π&ά&ϊ&ς&… | λ&ή&θ&ε&τ&᾽& ἐ&ν&ὶ& μ&ε&γ&ά&ρ&ο&ι&σ&ι& θ&ε&ῶ&ν& ο&ἳ& Ὄ&λ&υ&μ&π&ο&ν& ἔ&χ&ο&υ&σ&ιlt;/i>.[23] In light of this, I fail to understand why scholarship takes from III.103ff. (Menelaus’ proposal that the Achaeans sacrifice a lamb to Zeus, the Trojans two for Earth and Sun) only that they were unworthy to lay an offering before Zeus.[24] Both their forces recite the same prayer, and the formulaic line at III.297 (ὧ&δ&ε& δ&έ& τ&ι&ς& ε&ἴ&π&ε&σ&κ&ε&ν& Ἀ&χ&α&ι&ῶ&ν& τ&ε& Τ&ρ&ώ&ω&ν& τ&ε&…) bears some weight. “As so often the alleged difference between Achaean and Trojan culture provides to be no difference at all.”[25] But that is not to say that the universality of the Homeric gods is of no consequence. What stirs us with the Trojan women’s prayer to Athena, with its inevitable rejection?[26] Futility, a sense of the tragic. This brings me to my final point.

lt;/p>But I must stray for a moment. Certain scholarship is given to a stylish and far-sighted concern over early traces of Greek chauvinism in the Iliad. Too far-sighted. The same moral code, that is, no explicit moral code, binds both sides. But in brief, the arguments for and against. I will concede that a Trojan breaks the covenant of Ζ&ε&ὺ&ςlt;/i> Ξ&ε&ί&ν&ι&ο&ςlt;/i> by abducting Helen, that a Lycian offends Ζ&ε&ὺ&ςlt;/i> Ὅ&ρ&κ&ι&ο&ςlt;/i> by breaking the truce.[27] Neither have their Achaean counterparts. Critics are quick to turn to the barbarian type that was impervious to the ‘common laws’ of Greece, as did Hellenistic and Byzantine scholia.[28] I quote Bowra in response: “Of national or racial boundaries [Homer] tales little heed. It does not matter that Hector is a barbarian provided he behaves as a true soldier.”[29] With some caution for his term ‘barbarian’, the point stands – between the conduct of heroes, there is nothing noticeably Greek or Trojan. Of popular morality, of archaic Ionian or Iron Age values, we have no evidence – and so for their violation. One example is enough. Achilles dedicates twelve noble Trojan youths on Patroclus’ pyre. And Homer does not shy from detail& twice we hear of his intention (XVIII.336-7& XXIII.22-3), we see him choosing his victims (XXI.26-7), we see the sacrifice (XXIII.175-6). Had this been Hector taking twelve Achaean youths, the moral case for Troy would, of course, collapse. Only consider how the 5^th century and beyond knew human sacrifice as a mark of barbarism. But as it is, we can reconcile Achilles’ outrage as “not cupable in the ‘shame-culture’ heroic code of the Iliad.”[30] Or perhaps Hellenic values are better defined by Achilles’ rejection of them, seeing him “descend […] into the barbarism unfit for his compatriots.”[31] Then, surely, we should find the Trojans desecrating corpses, sacrificing humans? We find neither. Atrocity, like honour, is unique and stateless.[32] Now I’ll go back on myself. Some verbs expressing pain are only used for the Trojans.[33] Only Trojans beg for the lives. Do they have something more to lose in death, or gain in life?

lt;/p>Greek and Trojan abide the same social dynamics. The essential institution here is the polis,[34] the artistic representation,[35] of course, that corresponds neither to the centralized Mycenaean monarchies, nor to the emergent city-states of Ionia in the 8^th and 7^th centuries. We find ourselves in the “imagined social relations of the heroic age.”[36] Our task of distinction remains. Both sides recognize the same determinants of power& the Achaean ἄ&ρ&ι&σ&τ&ο&ιlt;/i> are all β&α&σ&ι&λ&ε&ῖ&ςlt;/i>, as are the Trojan allied leaders: Rhesus (X.435), for example, Glaukos and Sarpedon (XII.319). Each ‘king’ rules over his own district, his own household&[37] each is bound by the same faith of reciprocal obligation with the λ&α&ό&ςlt;/i>.[38] And how telling that its most formal assertion comes from a non-Greek, the Lycian Sarpedon at XII.310-21: ἲ&ς& | ἐ&σ&θ&λ&ή&, ἐ&π&ε&ὶ&… μ&έ&τ&α& π&ρ&ώ&τ&ο&ι&σ&ι& μ&ά&χ&ο&ν&τ&α&ι&.[39] From allies too, Agamemnon and Priam, as ‘primi inter pares’, (should) receive the same deference. Why? Because authority rests on the same principle: Agamemnon φ&έ&ρ&τ&ε&ρ&ό&ς& ἐ&σ&τ&ι&ν& ἐ&π&ε&ὶ& π&λ&ε&ό&ν&ε&σ&σ&ι&ν& ἀ&ν&ά&σ&σ&ε&ιlt;/i>,[40] and with Hector goes π&ο&λ&ὺ& π&λ&ε&ῖ&σ&τ&ο&ι& κ&α&ὶ& ἄ&ρ&ι&σ&τ&ο&ι& | λ&α&ο&ὶlt;/i>.[41] Trojan and Greek leaders are referred to the same institutions of civic debate. By Nestor’s ship (II.53-4), by the Scaean gates (III.146-53), the elders’ advisory councils are held. At the ships (I.305), at Priam’s doors (II.788), the general assemblies. Later (VII.325-44, 45-79) we even see both armies adjourn to hold parallel assemblies. And the same institutions of kinship are respected&[42] Glaukos and Diomedes, Lycian and Greek, are bound by ancestral guest-friendship, ξ&ε&ν&ί&αlt;/i>, and will not fight each other.[43] But perhaps Priam is an oriental polygamist&[44] he once had fifty sons (XXIV.495-7), nineteen by one,[45] the rest by numerous γ&υ&ν&α&ῖ&κ&ε&ςlt;/i>. Is this so different from the Achaean fathering of ν&ό&θ&ο&ιlt;/i>?[46] And besides, I find it harder to believe that Priam’s polygamy was invented – rather, the monogamy of his sons.[47] “There was no foreshadowing of a political distinction between Greeks and non-Greeks in the archaic thought world”.[48] The Iliad reveals a pattern of power relations shared by Achaeans and Trojans alike. So how should we tell them apart, if we must?

lt;/p>It is a strange fact that we see more of the Capulet household. There is no exchange between Romeo and Lord Montague, though Juliet often finds herself in her parents’ company, and with her Nurse. These are endearing scenes, the kind we see in Troy. When we hear how Trojan wives and daughters washed their clothes in the springs of Scamander,[49] or of Phereclus the carpenter whom ἔ&ξ&ο&χ&α&… ἐ&φ&ί&λ&α&τ&ο& Π&α&λ&λ&ὰ&ς& Ἀ&θ&ή&ν&ηlt;/i>,[50] how, around Hector, ran Τ&ρ&ώ&ω&ν& ἄ&λ&ο&χ&ο&ι& θ&έ&ο&ν& ἠ&δ&ὲ& θ&ύ&γ&α&τ&ρ&ε&ς& | ε&ἰ&ρ&ό&μ&ε&ν&α&ι& π&α&ῖ&δ&ά&ς& τ&ε& κ&α&σ&ι&γ&ν&ή&τ&ο&υ&ς& τ&ε& ἔ&τ&α&ς& τ&ε& | κ&α&ὶ& π&ό&σ&ι&α&ςlt;/i>,[51] or Astyanax’s fright before his father,[52] and the “loving amusement that unites the young parents”[53] – it is impossible to remain detached. As we are privy to, so we are part of the tragedy. The Achaeans, save Helen, are warriors& even the women are captives of the spear.[54] But across the plain, there is a Trojan child we know, young Trojan women, priests and priestesses, old Trojan men, a bereaved father and mother, a widow.[55] Trojan and Greek are the same – but for their suffering, and their likeness defeats any interpretation of the Iliad as an epic of conquest. We are far too intimate to take sides with either. We go arguing the differences – one up, one down. What is Greek? What is Trojan? “It is nor hand, nor foot, | Nor arm, nor face. O, be some other name…”[56]

[1] Of course, the parallel I draw assumes that Homer consciously homogenized the Iliad. Not conscious, no – this too, was a product of its time. “There was no foreshadowing of a political distinction between Greeks and non-Greeks in the archaic thought world… [it] remains homogeneous, its inhabitants of more or less uniformly heroic status.” cf. Hall, E., Inventing the Barbarian, Oxford 1989& p. 16, 19. The effect, however, is the same. And Homer, I am sure, was aware – we are not meant to pick sides.

[2] It is telling, and amusing, that A.T Murray’s 1924 translation has it as “uncouth-of-speech.”

[3] Kirk takes the epithet to be a conscientious evasion of anachronism. Hard to swallow. Cf. G. S. Kirk, The Songs of Homer (Cambridge, 1962).

[4] Hall, 9 and n.30.

[5] “These are perhaps the best evidence for any pro-Achaian / anti-Trojan colouring.” Taplin, O., Homeric Soundings, Oxford 1992& p.113. That foreign speech alone can be depreciative is an anachronistic assumption.

[6] Il.II.804

[7] Il.IV.438