The Bards in Homer

    The Bards in Homer

Homer has often been referred to as the blind bard, though despite many historical literary references to the point, there is no concrete evidence to show that there ever was a Homer, or that he might have been blind, if he indeed did exist at all. For my own self-indulgent and sentimental purposes, I like to think that the man was real, although I seriously doubt that he was blind, based on his tremendous and far-reaching knowledge and insight into so many topics. I believe Homer to have been one of the world’s first polymaths. Homer was a wandering bard who entertained folks around the campfire, singing songs and tales about gods and heroes, love affairs and ancient wars, decapitated heads rolling in the dust of the Trojan plain, and unfortunate sailors drowning in the tempest of the wine-dark sea. His stories were so alive and entertaining, that some enterprising young fellow thought that this stuff was pretty good and that it should be preserved for posterity. He must have taken a look at those old Linear B scratching and figured out that he should invent a new alphabet and a system of writing, so that he could get all these stories down on whatever it was he was writing on. Homer’s oral poetry was then committed to writing and years later someone codified it and proclaimed that this was the official version. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. I take the same approach that Samuel Butler did when he penned The Authoress of the Odyssey. Like Butler, I say that if no one puts up an objection to my theory, then it must be correct. End of story!

In the world of ancient Greece, bards were wandering singers called aoidoi, who travelled around from town to town entertaining audiences for days on end, sometimes noble listeners and sometimes just common folk. Bards, or we might today call them minstrels, often accompanied themselves by playing a lyre as they sang. The subject matter of their tales was familiar to their audiences and consisted of well-known stories of historical events or legends from the past. Bards were oral performers who recited their stories from memory and were considered by many to have been divinely inspired. Each bard used his own techniques for committing the stories to memory and often used stock phrases, repeated lines and standardized descriptions of certain events to fill out the narrative. To this core body of memorized familiar material, the bard was able to add his own improvisations to fill out the story or to alter it to some extent to serve the needs of a particular audience, enchanting them as they attended a feast or a religious gathering.

When we consider that Homer’s Iliad consisted of almost 16,000 lines of poetry and the Odyssey another 12,000 lines, the task of memorizing such a body of work seems super-human. The eminent classicist Milman Parry (1902-1935) was able to give us some insight into how a bard could accomplish such a task. Parry suggested that the Homeric style is characterized by the extensive use of fixed expressions or what he called formulas. These formulas were used by the bard as memory aids and allowed for easier improvisation. As part of his work as an assistant professor at Harvard, Parry travelled twice to Yugoslavia where he discovered remote villages of illiterate farmers who were able to recite oral poems of incredible lengths in a modern rendition of the ancient oral tradition. One such song was 13,000 lines long and was performed over the course of five days and there were others that were reported as being longer. Parry discovered that these modern bards used the same formula technique that was employed by aoidoi in ancient Greece. Parry had just scratched the surface of the subject and the classical world was looking for much more from him, but regrettably he died at a young age from an accidental gunshot wound in California in 1935. Tragedy seemed to be part of the Milman family. His son Adam became Chairman of the Yale University Classics Department and sadly, at his young age of 43, he and his wife were killed in a motorcycle accident in France in 1971.

When we look at the bards in Homer, of course we have to start with the man himself. We know nothing about Homer at all from his epics, other than the fact that he sought inspiration from the Muse. To do so was not unusual for bards because such inspiration provided a divine connection that gave their songs power, weight, authority and a link to something greater than just mortal existence. Homer sought that divine inspiration at the beginning of both the Iliad and the Odyssey.

Let wrath be your song O Goddess! Sing of the accursed rage of Achilles, son of Peleus, which brought untold woes to the Achaeans and banished to Hades many stalwart souls of heroes, turning them into carrion for dogs and birds of prey, thereby bringing to final fulfillment the plan of Zeus. Begin your song O Muse at that first sign of strife between the son of Atreus, lord of men, and the divine Achilles.

Speak to me Muse of that man of many ins and outs who traveled far and wide after he had sacked the lofty citadel of Troy. He came to know many cities and the thoughts of many men and many were the evils he suffered at sea while trying to save himself and secure the safe return home of his comrades. But do what he might, he was not able to save his men, for their own recklessness made an end of them, fools that they were, for they ate the cattle of the Hyperion Helios and the god took away from them the day that they would ever return home. Tell me all about this O goddess, daughter of Zeus, and start your story wherever you like.

            Invoking the Muse, who was presumably Calliope the goddess of poetry, established both works as products of divine inspiration and informed the listeners that the bard was not just telling his own story, but rather he was recounting to them what the Muse inspired in him. The bard became a conduit from the divine and as such, his message bore an increased level of importance and full attention needed to be paid to it as a consequence. When Homer was about to present the famous Catalogue of the Ships, he again invoked the divine. He did so for two reasons. The first was to be able to establish the veracity of the information presented in the minds of the listeners because it was a product of divine inspiration, and the second was to be able link those present with what happened historically, an important feature because many times the bard would have found himself presenting his story in places actually featured in the catalogue.

Speak to me now O ye Muses who dwell on Olympus, you who hear and know all things, for we only hear distant news and know little. Who were the leaders and lords of the Danaans? For I could never describe the extent of the throng gathered, not even if I had ten tongues and ten mouths, a voice that was never unbroken and a heart made of bronze. Remind me then o Olympian Muses, daughters of aegis-bearing Zeus, of all those who were gathered under Ilium. Now then I can recite who were the leaders and the numbers of their ships.

            While there are no bards as such mentioned in the Iliad, we know that Homer was the narrator of the story. Some scholars also suggest that Helen acted as a bard, insofar as she was presented as weaving the story of the events of the Trojan War on a tapestry.

She found her in a large hall where she was toiling away weaving a great double-folded tapestry which featured the battles of the horse-taming Trojans and the bonze-clad Achaeans that on her behalf they had endured at the hands of Ares.

            There was one other character in the Iliad who somewhat assumed the role of a bard, and that was Achilles. After he had been humiliated by Agamemnon in the Briseis affair, he retired to his tent and refused to play any further part in the fighting. A delegation sent to convince him otherwise found him singing and playing like a true bard.

They then came to the encampment and the ships of the Myrmidons and there they found Achilles playing on a lyre that was beautifully wrought and had a bridge of silver. It was part of the spoils that he had taken when he sacked the city of Eetion and he was now gladdening his heart with it singing about the exploits of men. Patroclus sat in silence and alone across from him waiting for the son of Aiakos to finish his song.

            But we have to turn to the Odyssey in order to find the two real bards that Homer featured in his story, Phemius and Demodocus. Phemius was the bard who sang and played in the palace at Ithaca and Demodocus was the blind bard in the palace of Phaeacian King Alcinous and Queen Arete in the land of Scheria. The presence of both bards helps Homer emphasize the value of the oral tradition and the power that narrative has to form and shape the reputation of the hero.

            The first bard that we meet in the Odyssey is Phemius, who was forced to play for the ‘enemy’, as it were. He was devoted to Odysseus and his family and the suitors would not have been his chosen audience, but nevertheless he performed well for them.

After the suitors had had their fill of food and drink, their desires turned in other directions, to dancing and to singing which are the highlights of any feast. A herald placed a very beautiful lyre into the hands of Phemius who was compelled to sing among the suitors and he played lovely music for them.

            Homer tells us that Phemius was singing about the terrible time that the Achaeans had in returning from the Trojan War and that Penelope heard the song when she came down from her chamber and she was so distressed by it that she was reduced to tears. She told Phemius, whom Homer describes as the godlike minstrel, to sing a different tune.

Phemius, you know many things that are charming to mortals, the deeds of men and gods that you make famous in song. Sing about one of these as you sit here and let them drink their wine in silence. Cease this baneful song for it distresses my dear heart and above all other women it brings me sorrows that cannot be forgotten. It reminds me so much of that dear head, my husband, whose fame is so well known in Hellas and throughout the middle of Argos.

            Her son Telemachus rebuked her and reminded his mother of the importance of the bard to society. We can interpret what he said as being Homer’s own opinion of the high place that minstrels occupied.

Mother dear, why do you bear ill-will towards the minstrel who wishes to sing in whatever way his spirit moves him? It is not the minstrel who is to blame but Zeus who is to blame, he who fetters men who are wage earners, to each one as he pleases. You cannot be angry with this man if he sings about the dreaded fate of the Danaans, for men praise to the highest those songs that are newest to their hearing.

            Phemius appeared again later in the story while the slaughter of the suitors was taking place. He was trying to plan his escape and decided to plead directly with Odysseus for his life. In the end, Telemachus interceded on his behalf and asked his father to spare blameless Phemius and the herald Medon.

Now Phemius the son of Terpes, who was the minstrel who sang among the noble suitors, was trying to escape from a black fate. He stood with his clear-sounding lyre in his hands near the back door that was high in the wall… it came to him that it would be more profitable for him to grasp the knees of Odysseus, the son of Laertes.

By your knees I beseech you Odysseus, show me respect and have pity on me please. Great sorrow will come to you later if you strike a minstrel like me who sings to the gods and men. I am self-taught and the gods have placed all types of songs in my heart and I am as worthy as a god to sing to you, so you should not be eager to cut my throat.

            On a recent trip to London to attend a summer school course in Homer, I was fortunate enough to pick up a used copy of Lindsay Clarke’s The War at Troy, published in 2004. It is supposed to be the story of the Trojan War and the return of Odysseus, written by the then sixty year old Phemius, forty years after the return of Odysseus to Ithaca. It is a wonderfully detailed account of the events, filled with pages of interesting back stories. At the end of his introduction, Phemius says, “One day perhaps some other bard will do for Odysseus what I, Phemius of Ithaca, have failed to do and make a great song out of these stories, a song that men will sing forever.” The author has signed this copy and it is dedicated, “For Ted, from his myth-taken friend, Lindsay.”

            The second bard of the Odyssey is Demodocus, the blind Phaeacian minstrel who performs in the palace of King Alcinous and Queen Arete in Scheria. Because of his blindness and the long-held position that Homer was also blind, many commentators see Demodocus as a representation of Homer himself. Demodocus represents the tradition of the bard and because he is blind, he underscores the popular notion that bards were divinely inspired. Despite being sightless, he had the gift of song that had been granted to him by the Muse and he served as a conduit from the divine.

            King Alcinous was happy to prepare a feast for his new guest and called for the bard Demodocus to be brought into the palace so that he could provide entertainment for those assembled. From his comments, you can tell that the bard was held in high regard as well as being divinely inspired.

Also summon here the godlike minstrel Demodocus for to him above all others has the god given the gift of song and he gives delight no matter what he chooses to sing. Thus he spoke and led the way and the sceptre-bearers followed him and the herald went in search of the godlike minstrel.

Then the herald came along, leading the trusty minstrel who was regarded with great affection by the muse who had given him both good and evil, for she had taken away his sight but had given him the gift of music.

The song that the minstrel sung affected Odysseus greatly and he wiped away his tears every time the bard paused his song.

The muse urged the minstrel to sing of the glorious deeds of warriors and their fame that had reached into the broad heavens.

The renowned minstrel sang this song but Odysseus grasped his swirling cloak with his hands and draped it over his head in order to hide his handsome face for he was ashamed that the Phaeacians might see him shedding great tears.

            Later the bard sang about the love affair between Ares and Aphrodite and this was more to the hero’s liking because the attention of the audience was placed on a subject that was not so dear to his heart. Odysseus then heaped praise on the bard and offered him a choice piece of meat. After he had done so, he encouraged the bard to tell the story of the Trojan horse.

This was the song that the renowned minstrel sung and Odysseus rejoiced in his heart as he listened to it, as did the Phaeacians, men famous for their long oars and for their ships.

Among all the men who live upon the earth, minstrels are held in the highest regard for the Muse has taught them how to sing and she fondly loves the tribe of minstrels.

Demodocus, above all other mortal men do I praise you, whether the Muse instructed you, the daughter of Zeus or Apollo himself, for exceedingly well do you sing of the fate of the Achaeans and all that they endured and all that the Achaeans suffered, just as if you had been there yourself or had heard it all from someone who had been there.

If you are able to recount the tale correctly, I will declare to all mankind that the god with the forward-thinking mind has indeed granted you the gift of song. So he spoke and the minstrel was cheered on by the god and his song was heard.

            But Odysseus was moved to tears again by the recounting of the events of the war and King Alcinous put an end to the singing.

Listen to me, leaders and counsellors of the Phaeacians, and let Demodocus cease playing his clear-toned lyre, for the song that he is singing is not pleasing to everyone. Ever since we began to eat and the goodly minstrel was moved to sing, the stranger has not stopped weeping and lamenting and I think that grief has overcome his heart. So let the minstrel stop so that we can all make merry, guests and stranger alike, since that would be much better.

The hero’s reaction to the song led to his revelation of his true identity to the Phaeacians and prompted him to tell his story in his own words. In effect, the singing of the tale by the bard Demodocus actually served the purpose of introducing Odysseus as the new bard who took over where Demodocus left off. Odysseus started his story with the following comments about listening to bards, comments which he no doubt thought might be applied to his own story-telling as well.

Lord Alcinous, glorious among all the people, surely it is a good thing to listen to a minstrel such as this man is for he has a voice like the gods. For I think that there is no greater joy that happens than when merriment fills all the people and they sit feasting in a great hall and listening to a minstrel and nearby are tables filled with food and drink and the cup-bearer draws wine from a mixing vessel and carries it forth to be served into goblets. In my mind, this is the finest thing of all.

Odysseus then proceeded to tell his story to those gathered in the palace. He told of the monsters and the women he had met, the tragedies that he and his crew had suffered and the wrath that Poseidon had visited upon them. Demodocus had started the story-telling and then Odysseus picked up the thread. When Odysseus finished, Demodocus took over again and this action firmly plants in our minds the fact that Odysseus had taken on the role of the bard.

After they had burned the thigh pieces as a sacrifice, they feasted greatly and merrily and the goodly minstrel Demodocus sang with his lyre, he who was held in such high regard by all the people.

Based on Homer’s comments, we can conclude that all bards are held in the same high regard by all the people. He sees them as divinely inspired artists who can enchant and entertain. Since Homer was the chief bard of the narrative and others like Phemius and Demodocus played supporting roles in telling the story, we can assume that the high praise for bards was directed at Homer as well. That leads us to one of two conclusions, depending on our position relative to the epic authorship question. If we assume a single authorship for the Iliad and the Odyssey, then we must conclude that Homer was heaping great praise on himself for his talents as a bard and was putting himself in the spotlight as he took a bow. If we assume dual authorship, then our conclusion is that the author of the Odyssey was delivering great accolades to the one who had preceded him, the author of the Iliad, namely Homer. As Phemius, the Odyssey’s author attempted to follow in Homer’s footsteps. As Demodocus, he paid tribute in a very demonstrative way to the blind bard himself.