The Three Faces of Helen
A War for Helen? The historical perspective
What can the historical record tell us about Helen’s legend, if anything? Could there have a been a war for Helen—that is, some historical person who might have had a role in inspiring her legend? There were certainly conflicts, including one attested between Greece and Troy. Could a “Helen” have been involved? While accepting the there possibility of a Greek princess running off with an Anatolian prince (to conform to the story) and sparking a war, Barry Strauss states “the modern reader is skeptical of Homer.” Surely there must have been other reasons?1 It would be foolish to suggest otherwise (a multiplicity of reasons is the rule, not the exception) but the issue is more which reasons would be primary and which subsidiary, and what effect this might have on how the war was remembered and recorded.
Therefore, it is worth reviewing what we know about the late Bronze Age conflicts between Anatolia and Greece. I have already covered much of this ground in the second part of my essay “Wrestling with Proteus,” so I ask the indulgence of those who have read it, with an eye toward of the convenience of those who have not. I have added material relating specifically to Paris and Helen, including the notion, found in Herodotus and the Greek lyric tradition, that they visited Egypt on the way to Troy.
References are indicated by brackets [1] but not linked (due to the current limitations of Substack when importing from MS Word files). Explanatory footnotes are linked. All works cited are listed at the end of the final installment.
Keywords: Helen of Troy, Helen of Sparta, Helen’s eidōlon, Helen in the Iliad, Helen in the Cyclic poems, the Sun Maiden, Bronze Age Anatolian Conflicts, Alaksandu of Wilusa.
Acknowledgements: I am deeply indebted to Cynthia Gralla of Royal Roads University for her kind assistance and support in the creation of this work, including help with research, excellent editorial suggestions and many insightful comments. I also received much-needed help and encouragement from Eric Luttrell of Texas A&M, which was indispensable to formulating my arguments and correcting my unfounded suppositions. They have saved me from many embarrassing errors. Those that remain are solely my own.
A War for Helen: The historical perspective
In the early thirteenth century BC, the Hittite king Muwattalli II (1295–1272 BC)2 received a letter from a “king of Ahhiyawa,” who was most likely King of Thebes.[1] In it, this king states that his great-grandfather contracted a dynastic marriage with the king of Aššuwa in the late fifteenth century.3 The reason for the marriage was likely to secure an alliance; at the time, Aššuwa was planning to rebel against Tudhaliya I/II, and may also have made overtures to Thutmoses III (1479–1425).4 As part of the marriage deal, the Theban king’s “great-grandfather” received three islands in the north Aegean, perhaps Samothrace, Lemnos and Imbros.5
Around 1430 BC, Aššuwa rebelled and was defeated. The Aššuwan King, Piyama-Kurunta, his son Kukkulli and the other members of the royal family were taken prisoner, along with thousand over 10,000 soldiers, and much of the population with all their possessions. Kukkulli led a second rebellion, was also defeated and executed. The fate of Piyama-Kurunta and rest of his family is not recorded.
The Hittites seized the islands, claiming that Tudhaliya’s victory over the Aššuwans gave them rights to all Aššuwan possessions. The Theban king writing in the early thirteenth century BC disputed this, saying the islands had been ceded to his great-grandfather before the rebellion and were thus Thebes’ possessions, not Aššuwa’s at the time of Tudhaliya’s victory. The letter was an attempt, about 150 years after the fact, to use diplomacy to recover these islands.[2]
The Mycenaeans had fought in the Aššuwan rebellion, as evidenced by swords Tudhaliya dedicated after his victory.6 Some scholars might find that statement too strong, but this marriage gives a clear motivation, and probably obligation, on the part of the Theban king to aid his in-laws in the war against Tudhaliya, since accepting the islands would have made the Theban king a vassal of the Aššuwan king. The Hittites may therefore have viewed the islands as forfeit, due to the Theban king’s participation in the rebellion.
As I discussed in my essay (Wrestling with Proteus), a Mycenaean king, named in the Hittite documents as Attarissiya, campaigned in western Anatolia shortly after the failed rebellions. He fought with a vassal king of Tudhaliya named Madduwatta, putting him to ignominious flight on two occasions, and Madduwatta had to be saved by the intervention of a Hittite army.[3]
Later Attarissiya engaged in raiding the Cypriote coast. Madduwatta was also reported to be engaged in this activity. Given his two humiliating defeats at Attarissiya’s hands, is it possible Madduwatta, in the spirit of “if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em,” made peace with the Greek leader and they embarked on joint operations? Some historians embrace this possibility.[4] Whether allies or not, Madduwatta’s actions were not looked on favorably by his Hittite overlord, as Cyprus was a Hittite client state. What happened later is unknown because Madduwatta and Attarissiya disappear from history at this point.
Attarissiya has attracted special interest because his Hittite name has been linked to the Greek name Atreus. Thus, we have a Mycenaean king with a suspicious name fighting in western Anatolia in the late fifteenth to early fourteenth century BC, and we may guess this was connected with the Greeks’ lost islands. There may be however another reason: to avenge the Theban princess who was insulted and dispossessed, perhaps even imprisoned or enslaved, in the aftermath of the failed revolt. While our modern worldview may balk at such conjecture, there is no explicit reason to dismiss out of hand that it was factor.
Jumping forward to around 1290, we do not know exactly what resulted from the Theban king’s letter to Muwattalli II, except that sometime in the 1280s, the Greeks and the Trojans came into armed conflict and in 1280, the Trojan king, Alaksandu, concluded a landmark treaty with Muwattalli. I say “landmark” because prior to this, Troy exercised a good deal of independence, but the treaty brought it firmly under Hittite control. The treaty mentions Muwattalli’s aid to Alaksandu in his conflict, saying: “I [Muwattalli] killed your enemy for you [Alaksandu].”7
Putting both these episodes in a nutshell, we have a dynastic marriage, followed by a war and the loss of valuable Greek islands, followed by another series of campaigns and then, a century and a half later, a diplomatic overture to recover the lost islands, followed by another armed conflict ended by negotiation and finally a treaty between Troy and the Hittite empire that changed Troy’s status.8
This chain of events might explain a good deal about the Trojan War legend: it does involve a royal princess or two, dynastic marriage[s] with the transfer of significant wealth, the loss of that wealth and a war to recover it. It does not explain why the legend would focus on a marriage between a Trojan prince and a Greek princess, or how this marriage would lead a renewal of the war.
That said, if the Theban king’s diplomatic overture went anywhere, a royal marriage would not be at all unusual – as I mentioned above, such marriages were the “glue” that held Bronze Age alliances together. So consider the situation in the 1290s: Thebes wanted its islands back, Troy was recovering from a serious earthquake that struck it around 1300, and the disputed islands appear to be within Troy’s dominion.9 Would Troy be willing to trade three islands for aid from Thebes, used as a symbol of wealth in the Iliad, and/or Mycenae, “rich in gold”? It seems likely.10
Would the Hittite king agree?11 Given the situation on Muwattalli’s southeastern borders, where he suffered a defeat at the hands of Seti I (1294 or 1290–1279) and would result in the largest known battle of the Bronze Age late in his reign, three islands might have been a reasonable price for some stability in his turbulent western territories.12 It would seem the time was ripe for a rapprochement, which is why the Theban king would have proposed it.
Could another royal marriage be in the cards, or am I guilty of unreasonable conjecture? On this, the literary record has served up an enticing tidbit. An ancient source says that on the way to Troy, Paris and Helen were entertained by one Motylos, apparently a king. West mentions that it has been suggested that Motylos refers to Muwattalli, and that it is “conceivable” this name was retained by the Neo-Hittites in southern Anatolia, and somehow found its way into the Cypria tradition. Alternatively, we might wonder if the name appeared in Luwian records available to the Ionian and/or Cypriot bards. Luwian hieroglyphic remained in use in western Anatolia until the Homer’s day and Homer, native to western Anatolia, could have had access to such records, if they existed, as could his Ionian Greek predecessors.
This not only hints at a marriage between Alaksandu and a Mycenaean princess, but puts the legendary voyage of Helen and Paris back to Troy in a new light. As West remarked, nearly everyone says they went to Egypt and the Iliad says they stopped in Sidon to pick up a valuable cargo of cloth and slaves. A look at the trade routes in the eastern Mediterranean shows that from Greece one usual route is sailing to Crete, then Egypt, then up the Levantine coast with its important trading centers, west to Cyprus and Rhodes, then finally north up the west coast of Anatolia to Troy. The Iliad makes no mention of a stop in Egypt but follows this course from Sidon to Troy, and Helen’s voyage back from Troy follows this route almost exactly in reverse. Could it be that we were seeing an echo of a Trojan prince taking his new bride on a diplomatic grand tour?13
Again, while we have only the slimmest evidence (if even that), such a tour would make sense to show off the “happy couple” to Troy’s important commercial and diplomatic partners, and perhaps also to conduct some business along the way. The tour would then end with a presentation of the bride to the Hittite king. Given layovers to be properly entertained in royal fashion, as well as the possibility of interruptions due to wind and weather, such a voyage could easily take months. Tzetes says it took Paris and Helen a year to get home, and with various commercial and diplomatic functions being undertaken on the way, this is not unreasonable.[6]
What happened next? While I am engaging in conjecture, I might suggest that after several years of marriage, something went wrong. It need not be within the marriage itself (as in the Ugaritic example), but an event that prevented the fulfillment of some crucial terms of the marriage contract. In the Iliad, Hector mentions that much of Troy’s wealth had been sold to Phrygia and Maeonia (Book 18.290–91). Might this suggest Troy sending its wealth to neighbors in exchange for help with its rebuilding efforts?
If so, and Troy was thus unable to comply with a Mycenaean demand to return the treasure it had been given due to it being spent, it is not hard to imagine the Mycenaeans arriving to collect what they could of what they now saw as a debt.
This conjecture might also be extended to include personal motives: if there is any basis for Helen being Menelaus’ former wife, was there a state-mandated divorce so the Mycenaean princess could marry Alaksandu? Or a betrothal that was called off? Neither are unknown in history. If the deal with Troy was on the rocks, the man who was deprived of his wife or betrothed might well want her back, especially if there were dynastic or inheritance issues involved.
As far as this scenario goes, Barry Strauss may appear to be on the money when he says: “’What’s love got to do with it?’ the answer is probably, ‘Nothing.’” In his view, “Helen” (in this case) was just the pretext for war, not its cause. But what about captive Theban princess whose marriage to the Aššuwan king is at the heart of the whole thing? Had she been forgotten? Can she be also consigned to the role of a pretext?
It easy to see why this line of thought is attractive: it ties together all the key elements of the Trojan War story, as far as the Iliad goes, except one – Helen’s legendary status; the kalon kakon, capable of not just bringing mighty empires to their knees, but ending the age of heroes. Is she, as I discussed in the beginning, a phantom – an eidōlon – whose only purpose is to spice up the tale by standing in for an unknown historical princess of little real account? Perhaps, but something does not add up, and as always, I feel it deserves a deeper look.
This concludes Part 3.
References
[1] Woudhuizen, “Review of Kelder.”
[2] Cline (2013, 60–61); Woudhuizen, “Review of Kelder.”
[3] Cline (2013, 57).
[4] Woudhuizen, “Review of Kelder,” 24; Strauss (2006, 35).
[5] West, “Atreus and Attarissiyas,” 262–66.
[7] West (2013), 92–3.
Footnotes
Strauss discusses this in his 2006 book, The Trojan War (pp. 17-23), while also showing that Bronze Age conflicts were typically justified in personal terms. However, I do not fully accept Strauss’ contention that “Homer was much too pragmatic to reduce war to romance.” Homer was remarkably clear-sighted and evenhanded, but he understood the realities of what men will die for (especially in his day) better than we do (or perhaps than we are comfortable admitting to; people do not blow themselves up for “pragmatic” reasons).
As before, all dates are BC and approximate unless indicated.
Aššuwa was a coalition or a kingdom (in the view of Woudhuizen) comprised of 22 Anatolian “lands” (political units, such as cities or city-states). Troy was one of them.
It is unclear if Tudhaliya was the first or second Hittite king of this name, hence the designation I/II (Cline 2013). Woudhuizen (2018) resolves this in favor of Tudhaliya II.
Strauss (2006, 19). Also, “great-grandfather” may mean “ancestor” rather than three generations specifically (Beckman et al, 2011).
That Mycenaean king was king of Thebes is indicated by a cache of thirty-nine lapis lazuli cylinder seals found at Thebes, which include an Anatolian seal with Luwian hieroglyphics and the image of a king. It is likely the Aššuwan king gave the seal to the Theban king to allow him to exercise his authority over the islands he had been granted (Woudhuizen, “Review of Kelder, 2010).
Specifically, the dedicatory inscription reads: “As Tudhaliya the Great King shattered the Aššuwa country, he dedicated these swords to the storm-god, his lord.” (Cline 2013,59; see also Cline 1996.) As chief priest of his people, a Hittite king would not offer up anything but the best to his principle god. This effectively rules out the swords being taken from Greek mercenaries or being local copies. They must have been taken from a worthy foe, such as an army led by a Mycenaean king.
There are three Hittite documents relevant to this conflict: the Manapa-Tarhunta letter, the Tawagalawa letter, and the Alaksandu Treaty. Because the dating of these, except for the Alaksandu Treaty, has been unclear in the past, it has been likewise unclear if they referred to the same conflict or multiple conflicts. My assessment, based on new dating and the circumstances described, is they all refer to the same conflict, which took place not long before the Alaksandu Treaty was sealed. Fred Woudhuizen reached the same conclusion. See Woudhuizen (2018).
The period between these two episodes was quite eventful and interesting; it is covered in my essay “Wrestling with Proteus.”
The Iliad gives the borders of Priam’s domain, and these three islands would seem to lie within it, or quite close to it. Troy is the closest Anatolia royal seat, making it sensible they were historically Trojan possessions.
While it may be assumed Alaksandu married at some point, as there is an indication he has descendants, we have nothing in the historical record about who he married or when. That he married a Greek princess does seem not out of bounds; it has been suggested on the basis of his name that he might have been the son of a Greek woman. (West, and others, have entertained the notion. West 2011, 40.) If so (a sizeable if), perhaps there could have been both a precedent and an affinity there.
I further assume that Muwattalli would have to approve of a vassal’s marriage to a princess from a formerly hostile foreign power, which seems not unreasonable.
The Mycenaeans were not inactive in this period, at least by proxy. The renegade Luwian warlord Piyamaradu was making trouble in western Anatolia with Mycenaean support. His career and his possible involvement with the hostilities at Troy are interesting subjects which I also describe in my essay “Wrestling with Proteus.”
Martin West proposed another explanation, based on the lyric tradition and Helen’s divine status, which invokes the myth of the “Disappearing Goddess,” familiar from the myth of Demeter. Very briefly (his paper should be read in full), he suggests that as the Sun Maiden, Helen would “follow” the sun to the south, which from the Greek perspective is toward Egypt (“Immortal Helen,” 6-11).
I will note that these explanation are not mutually exclusive: an ancient historical memory might evoke a divine explanation. It also reconciles Herodotus’ assertion that Helen spent the war in Egypt, attributed to the testimony of Egyptian priests. This testimony is often regarded as dubious, but (for what it’s worth) Herodotus has been proven right on other things long regarded as dubious (e.g. Amazons).