Draupadi

STEPHANIE W. JAMISON

Draupadi on the Walls of Troy: Iliad 3 from an Indic Perspective

THE THIRD BOOK of the Iliad contains some of the best-known scenes in this

epic-scenes that have also long been the subject of intense debate in Homeric criticism. I refer particularly to the Teikhoskopia, "The Viewing from the Wall," in which Helen identifies certain Greek heroes for the benefit of Priam and other

Trojan elders (1. 3.161-244), and the subsequent single combat between Menelaos and Paris (313-82), a duel that is supposed to settle the war: the victor

is to get Helen and her possessions, and the Greeks will go home, whoever wins. This tidy solution to a messy war is thwarted by Aphrodite, who spirits Paris

away from the battlefield and returns him to an initially disgruntled Helen. Commonsense Homeric criticism has identified certain features of these

scenes as anomalous, particularly their temporal position. How, in the tenth year of a bloody war, fought within sight of the walls of Troy, could Priam not

recognize Greeks like Agamemnon and Odysseus? Why was the duel between Helen's aggrieved husband and her abductor postponed for nine years and then

casually set up as a winner-take-all finale to a war that by now would seem to

have a life of its own? Why is Helen Priam's interlocutor, and what connection, if

any, do the viewing and the duel have with each other?'

1. Puzzlement over these questions dates back at least to the scholiasts, and W. Leaf seems to have been an important inspiration for the modern debate on the issue. For a summary of the difficulties, see in general G. S. Kirk, The Iliad: A Commentary, vol. 1, Books 1-4 (Cambridge, 1985) 286-88 and passim. The secondary literature is quite extensive; some works that deal with the

questions, in whole or in part, include C. M. Bowra, Tradition and Design in the Iliad (Oxford, 1930; repr. Westport, 1977), 110-12; 0. Sch6nberger, "Zu Ilias 3, 146-180," Gymnasium 67 (1960) 197 201; K. J. Reckford, "Helen in the Iliad," GRBS 5 (1964) 8ff.; A. Parry, "Have We Homer's

? 1994 BY THE REGENTS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA

6 CLASSICAL ANTIQUITY Volume 13/No. 1/April 1994

Commonsense answers to these objections have a rather desperate, patched together air. That Priam did recognize the Greeks but asked Helen about them

anyway, "to help her out in a delicate situation,"2 is an explanation that owes more to Miss Manners than to epic sensibilities. Similarly, that both sides agreed to the duel because they were worn out3 is belied by the many weary battles that lie ahead.

Rather than attempting to account for the puzzling features of the episodes in such pragmatic but ad hoc ways, the expert consensus seems instead to be that the anomalies result from the displacement of these scenes from another part of the poem or indeed from a different poem, "that the episode [i.e., the

Teikhoskopia], in an altered form, originally belonged to an early stage of the war and has been transposed to its present place for the purposes of the monu mental Iliad."4 Estimates of these purposes vary-for example, to introduce us to Helen and present her character or emotions,5 to praise the Greek heroes,6 or to show Priam's character.7

Opinions about the source of the narrative motif also vary. Reckford sees "the

princess on the wall" as "a common figure in the complex tradition of Oriental

siege stories."8 Kakridis (1971), followed and developed by Postlethwaite (1985), suggests that the Teikhoskopia and the duel are the reworking of a myth in which a

woman looks on while two men contend for her-a myth ultimately deriving from a marriage contest. Edwards (1987) believes that the Teikhoskopia has been assembled from a grab bag of independent motifs, the earlier part based on the

display of prizes to competitors before a contest, the latter on a traditional viewing of the besiegers by defenders of a besieged city. Edwards has perhaps most clearly expressed the commonly held opinion of the fragmentary nature of the sources of this part of the epic: "So the whole Teichoscopia is composed of a number of set

piece ideas which occur separately and with a different purpose elsewhere."9

'Iliad'?" YCIS 20 (1966) 197ff.; O. Lendle, "Paris, Helena und Aphrodite: Zur Interpretation des 3.

Gesanges der Ilias," A&A 14 (1968) 68; J. T. Kakridis, Homer Revisited (Lund, 1971) 32ff.; L. L.

Clader, Helen: The Evolution from Divine to Heroic in Greek Epic Tradition, Mnemosyne Supp. 42

(Leiden, 1976) 9ff.; O. Tsagarakis, "The Teichoskopia Cannot Belong in the Beginning of the Trojan War," QUCC 41 (1982) 61-72; N. Postlethwaite, "The Duel of Paris and Menelaos and the

Teichoskopia in Iliad 3," Antichthon 19 (1985) 1-6; M. W. Edwards, "Topos and Transformation in

Homer," in Homer: Beyond Oral Poetry; ed. J. M. Bremer, I. J. F. de Jong, and J. Kalff (Amster dam, 1987), 56-57.

2. Tsagarakis 1982: 70. A similar suggestion was made by J. T. Sheppard a half-century previ ously ("Helen with Priam," G&R 3 (1933) 35: "With a delicacy some modern parents well might envy, Priam talks at random-no, as if at random-really to cover her distress.").

3. Tsagarakis 1982: 64. 4. Kirk 1985: 286. 5. Bowra 1930: 112; Parry 1966: 198; Lendle 1968: 68; Kakridis 1971: 32; Clader 1976: 9;

Edwards 1987: 56. 6. Bowra 1930: 112; Lendle 1968: 68; Kakridis 1971: 32; Kirk 1985: 286. 7. Kakridis 1971: 32. 8. Reckford 1964: 8. 9. Edwards 1987: 56.

JAMISON: Draupadi on the Walls of Troy 7

The common thread in the discussions of these episodes seems to be that

they fill some function or "are about" something other than what appears, and that they consist of material originally different, even foreign in purpose, that has been jury-rigged and pressed into service. The apparent incompetence of this

adaptation is ascribed, for example by Kirk, to the oral nature of the epic,10 or even to Homer's doting fondness for an earlier work of his own.1

In all these discussions of provenance and function, one important compa randum has been ignored-at least as far as I am aware-namely, the evidence

of the other great heroic epic from a cognate tradition, the Indian Mahabhdrata. Examined from this Indic point of view, the Teikhoskopia and the duel both

appear to fill important structural roles in the larger narrative and to be crucially connected to each other. That it is Indic material that sheds this light suggests that this narrative complex may be an inherited one in both Greek and Sanskrit

epic-and that it has a place in an Indo-European typology of marriage, both

legal and illegal. Let us begin in India. As is well known, the Sanskrit law codes regularly

classify marriage into eight categories, according to the circumstances under which the bridegroom takes charge of the bride.12 These categories are hierarchi

cally ranked, by position on the list, and the legality (or not) of any particular marriage depends on its position in the hierarchy and on the social class of the

participants. The seventh type, the RakSasa or "Demonic" marriage, is the lowest type of legal union. This is marriage by capture or abduction, defined with

unblinking violence as

hatva chittva ca bhittva ca krosantim rudatim grhat

prasahya kanyaharanam raksaso vidhir ucyate. (MDS 111.33)

The abduction by force of a maiden, weeping and wailing, from her house, after smashing and cleaving and breaking [her relatives and

household], that is called the Rak$asa rite.

The texts usually agree, sometimes reluctantly, in considering this type of mar

riage legal for Ksatriyas, the warrior class, along with the more peacable Gandharva type, marriage by mutual agreement.

This type of marriage not only has a secure position in the legal tradition; it is

10. Kirk 1985: 287: "A Homer who had been writing out his poem would probably have made such adjustments; but somehow the oral tradition of a Teikhoskopia must have persuaded the actual

Homer, and his audience, that this was not necessary, that the apparent anomaly could be over looked or tolerated in the name of tradition."

11. A. Severyns, Homere 3, 10 (cited by Kakridis 1971: 32 n. 19). 12. The best-known of the Indic law codes, though not the earliest, is that of Manu, the

Manava Dharma Sastra (MDS), in which the types of marriage are treated at III.20-42. The standard translation of the MDS is that of G. Bihler, The Laws of Manu, Sacred Books of the East, vol. 25

(Oxford, 1886); see also the recent Penguin translation of W. Doniger and B. K. Smith, The Laws of Manu (Harmondsworth, 1991).


also repeatedly exemplified in the narrative literature. The Mahdbhdrata con tains several discursive narratives of RaikSasa abductions, the most famous of

which are BhiSma's abduction of Amba and her sisters (1.96, V.170) and

Arjuna's of Krna's sister Subhadra (1.211-13). Let us briefly examine some features of "orthodox" Rakasa marriage that will be relevant in what follows.

Though the legal description of Raksasa marriage just quoted seems to

depict a scene of chaotic violence, close examination of Raksasa narratives shows

that, though the event was undeniably violent, it was only superficially chaotic. In fact, RakSasa abduction mimics, almost slavishly, the orderly progress of an

ordinary marriage ceremony. The correctly performed Raksasa abduction is a

ritual, a ceremony, and the important steps in a tranquil wedding (as set forth in the Grhya Sutras, the texts of the domestic rituals) all have their breathless and violent analogues in the abduction narratives.13

The crucial steps are the following. In an ordinary marriage, the would-be

bridegroom sends a few wooers to the house of the girl. They ceremonially take a

position and announce several times the name and lineage of the bridegroom and his intentions to the assembled household. In a Raksasa marriage the would-be abductor comes on a single chariot, sometimes with a second (a sort of substitute best man) but no additional companions, to the place where the maiden is, and announces his name and lineage and his intention to abduct-as in the vivid

proclamation of Bhisma:14

avocam parthivan sarvan, aham tatra samagatan bhismah sanmtanavah kanyd, haratfti punah punah.

(MBh V.170.13)

I proclaimed to all the kings assembled there, "Bhisma giamtanava takes these maidens," again and again.

The analogue to the assembled household that hears this announcement under ordinary circumstances is an armed host, often, as in the case of Bhisma

and Amba, an assemblage of kings attending the scheduled bridal self-choice

(svayarmvara) of the girl who gets snatched. The abductor's announcement is

accompanied by a challenge: he will fight them all. In fact, he must fight them an act of heroism (vfrya) that substitutes for the bride price (?ulka) in some other

marriage types. Now the point of all this is that Raksasa abduction has certain legal require

ments: it must be (1) announced, (2) witnessed, and (3) fought for. But if these

requirements are met, the abduction itself is legal, is a recognized marriage, and

13. The ceremonial aspects of Indic marriage by abduction are discussed in my forthcoming book, Sacrificed Wife I Sacrificer's Wife: Women, Ritual, and Hospitality in Ancient India.

14. All quotations from the Mah/abhdrata (MBh) are taken from the Critical Edition (Poona, 1930-70), and all translations are my own. However, complete versions of the episodes in question can be consulted in J. A. B. van Buitenen's excellent translation (Chicago, 1973-78) of the first five books (of the eighteen).

JAMISON: Draupadf on the Walls of Troy 9

there is nothing that an annoyed family or disappointed former suitor or husband can do about it. Let us now remember who the successful bridegroom in these

marriages is. As we noted above, the law texts allow this marriage type only for a

Ksatriya, a member of the warrior class, and in fact Bhisma at one point in the

Mahabhdrata rather startlingly proclaims it as the best type of marriage for warriors. Indeed, as Minoru Hara has discussed,15 abduction does fit Ksatra dharma (Warrior Custom) better than other types in several important ways. It

requires an act of heroism appropriate to warrior behavior. Perhaps more impor tant, it involves taking the girl by force, not accepting her. Most marriage types explicitly involve the gift of the girl by her father, and it is contrary to the

warrior's code to accept gifts. Now all this sets up an interesting countersituation. If a correctly performed

abduction is legal, then an incorrectly performed one-skimping on the ceremo nial steps or on the heroic activity accompanying them-is illegal, and illegal in

interesting, nontrivial ways. The existence, at least in theory, of legal abduction defines and sharpens the outrage of the illegal type. It is not merely lawless in

general, but it may involve the perpetrator not only in breaking society's rules

regarding marriage, but in transgressing in specific ways the code of his class. This double illegality may account for its power as a narrative theme: two great Indo-European epics, the Indian Rdmayana and the Greek Iliad, are essentially stories about the repercussions of an illegal abduction.

And what are the repercussions? We saw above that the family of a girl cor

rectly abducted has no recourse. The marriage must be accepted. But an illegal ab duction is quite different: there is a legal remedy, which I will call the reabduction or counterabduction. The injured party or parties can assemble a posse and pursue the abductor, with intent to fight and recapture the woman. Thus Rama can follow

Ravana and Sita to Lanka; Menelaos can follow Paris and Helen to Troy.

By now it should be no surprise that the counterabduction has its own rules

and ceremonial steps. Nor should it be too surprising that many of these steps are

mirror-image analogues of the expected steps in a correct abduction, especially those steps that were left out or incorrectly performed in the illegal abduction.

Before we return to Greece, let us define the parameters of the coun terabduction in India-not in the sprawling extravagance of the Rdmdyana, but in a confined and consequently pointed narrative in the Mahdbharata: the Abduc tion and Reabduction of Draupadi.

Draupadi is the wife simultaneously of the five Pandava brothers, the main

heroes of the Mahdbhdrata. Her abduction occurs in (coincidentally also) the third book, the Aranyaka Parvan (Forest Book), during which the Pandavas

spend a tedious twelve-year mandated exile in the wilderness. Our episode be

gins when the Pandavas go off hunting, leaving Draupadi virtually alone, with

only a maidservant and a house priest as companions. A king called Jayadratha

15. M. Hara, "A Note on the Raksasa Form of Marriage," JAOS 94 (1974) 296-306, esp. 304-5.


happens by, accompanied by a great retinue, and is quite taken by the beautiful

Draupadi. Coming to her hermitage with a group of companions, he first intro duces himself properly but shortly thereafter urges her to mount his chariot and become his wife. When she refuses, he violently forces her onto it and takes off.

The priest raises an objection to this behavior. It is a telling one for our

purposes. Rather than saying, as our modern sensibilities might expect, "You cannot abduct this virtuous wife" or "Stop this outrageous violence against an innocent woman," he says instead:

neyam sakya tvaya netum, avijitya mahdrathan dharmam ksatrasya pauranam, aveksasva jayadratha.

(MBh 11.252.25)

This [woman] cannot be led[/married] by you, without [your] having conquered great chariot [fighters]. Look to the ancient dharma of the warrior, 0 Jayadratha.

He does not condemn or forbid the abduction per se, but rather states that it

would be legal if Jayadratha engaged in combat. Jayadratha's abduction is in fact

illegal on every count. He has not announced his intentions; his actions have no

legal witnesses; he performs no feats of valor.

Draupadi has already warned Jayadratha that two of her husbands, Krsna and

Arjuna, will pursue him on a single chariot (III.252.14), the vehicle that a proper abductor would choose. And indeed when the brothers return from hunting and learn what has happened, they all set out in pursuit, in a frenzy that is measurably increased when they see Draupadi standing on Jayadratha's chariot.

This scene is so far unremarkable. Of course they would pursue her; of course they would be frenzied; and, equally, of course Jayadratha would attempt to escape them and carry off his prize. But what follows is not predictable in a universal script. As the Pandavas close in on the abductor's chariot, all action seems to cease, freeze-framed, as it were, for nineteen temporally suspended verses-Tristubh verses at that, each with four 11-syllable lines-a remarkably lengthy interruption to this dramatic chase scene. It is important to note that these verses are so-called irregular Tri.tubhs and, as such, belong to the oldest,

Ksatriya core of our surviving Mahabhdrata, as convincingly argued in the recent book of Mary Carroll Smith.16 This is not recently introduced epic filler, of which we have so much in the Mahdbharata, but belongs to the heart of the text.

And what happens in these verses? When Jayadratha espies the Pandavas

bearing down, he turns to Draupadi standing next to him on the chariot (which presumably is still careering madly along) and says:

ayantime panca ratha mahanto

manye ca krne patayas tavaite

16. M. C. Smith, The Warrior Code of India's Sacred Song (New York, 1992), esp. 129.

JAMISON: Draupadf on the Walls of Troy 11

a janati khyapaya nah sukesi

param-param pandavanam rathastham.

(MBh III.254.3)

These five great chariot[-warrior]s are coming hither, and I think they are your husbands, O Krsna [= Draupadi].

Recognizing [them], O fair-haired one, proclaim to us in sequence each one of the Pandavas standing on the chariot.

At this request, Draupadi first crows over Jayadratha (vs. 4) but then agrees to perform this identification. The phrasing of her acquiescence is critical:

akhyatavyam tv eva sarvam mumursor maya tubhyam prstaya dharma esah.

(MBh 11I.254.5)

But all this must be proclaimed to one about to die,

[proclaimed] by me to you, since I was asked. That is the law

[dharma].

Draupadi's identification of her husbands is a legal requirement in this situation; Jayadratha was not simply making idle chatter in his request. But why in this

panic- and pressure-filled moment must they take the time for a set of leisurely introductions?

The answer comes from the ceremonies we have already discussed. The first

step in both the ordinary marriage and the legal abduction is the wooing, the formal announcement by the bridegroom or his proxies of his name and lineage to the bride's family or protectors, a step left out of the illegal abductions. What

we have in this scene is a mirror-image wooing, whose configuration is appropri ate to the counterabduction. The woman ceremonially identifies, by name and

qualities, the reabductors, who can then legitimately claim her back as their wife. She does so to the person who illegally has her in his power and who thus fulfills, in a fractured way, the role of her guardian and protector.

Draupadi certainly takes the ceremonial aspects of her task very seriously. She doesn't just point at five men in rapid succession and say, "Watch out for that one!" Instead, each husband receives at least two verses (usually three), and each is introduced by an archaic syntactic-cum-literary device: one or more

descriptive, even definitional relative clauses, followed by a minimal main clause that reveals the personal name. This stylistic device is familiar from the earliest Sanskrit, especially memorably in Rig Veda 11.12, a hymn with twelve successive verses each beginning with a sequence of relative clauses and each ending with the snappy main clause sd janasa indrah, "That, folks, is Indra."

We can sample Draupadi's version in her first identification, that of Yudhisthira, noticing that his lineage is neatly included with his name at the end:

yasya dhvajagre nadato mrdangau

nandopanandau madhurau yuktarupau


etam svadharmarthaviniscayajfiam sada janah krtyavanto 'nuyanti ya esa jambiunadasuddhagaurah pracandaghonas tanur ayataksah etam kurusresthatamam vadanti

yudhisthiram dharmasutam patim me.

(MBh III.254.6-7)

At the top of whose standard sound the two drums, the sweet Nanda and Upananda suitably formed

Him who knows the decisions concerning his own law and purpose do the busy people always follow.

Who is pure and bright as gold, large-nosed, slender, long-eyed

Him they call the best of the best of the Kurus, Yudhisthira, son of Dharma, my husband.

And so she continues, in similar vein, through the rest of her husbands, ending with a formal summary: ity ete vai kathitdIh panduputrdh, "Thus have these sons of Pandu been declared" (MBh 111.254.20).

And then all hell breaks loose. The five Pandavas alone attack and defeat in

spectacularly bloody fashion the great army accompanying Jayadratha (hundreds of warriors, elephants, horses, and so on). Again this has its analogue in legal abduction: the Pandavas, the reabductors, perform the act of valor that serves as

bride price (vfrya-sulka) in a RakSasa marriage and that was omitted by Jayadratha. At this battle Jayadratha, the original abductor, again displays his craven unworthiness. Rather than fight, he dismounts and attempts to flee.

When he is overtaken, the Pandavas do not even kill him (despite Draupadi's urgings). He does not deserve to die in battle, as a proper Ksatriya would, but instead is forced to agree to proclaim himself a slave of the Pandavas, whereupon he is released:

daso 'smiti tvaya vacyam, samsatsu ca sabhasu ca

evam te jivitam dadyam, esa yuddhajito vidhih. (MBh 111.256.11)

You must proclaim, in sessions and assemblies, "I am a slave."

Just thus would I give life to you. That is the rule [imposed] by [me,] victorious in battle.

(Note the contemptuous dadyam, "I would give"-Jayadratha must humble himself to accept a gift, his own life.) The sparing of Jayadratha's life is hardly an act of compassion and forgiveness, but a calculated humiliation of a man who has

not only offended against Draupadi and her husbands but has violated the code

of his warrior class. Thus the incident is closed. The counterabduction has been accomplished

with the appropriate ceremony-wooing and act of valor-lacking in the origi

JAMISON: Draupadi on the Walls of Troy 13

nal abduction; Draupadi is reunited with her husbands, and the abductor is

suitably punished. With this Indic paradigm in mind, we may now return to Greece, and by now

it should be fairly clear what I want to say about the Homeric episodes with which we began. If the Iliad in one sense begins as a vast reabduction narrative, Book 3 concentrates the primary ceremonial steps of a counterabduction. The

Teikhoskopia and the duel are tightly linked parts of a single narrative complex; neither is an orphaned story fragment jammed randomly into empty epic space.

Iliad 3 is the first point in the epic when we see the Greeks and Trojans together; that it is supposedly the tenth year of the war is fairly unimportant from a narrative point of view.17 It is entirely appropriate that the correct steps in a counterabduction should be laid out at this first Greek-Trojan encounter, and that is exactly what happens. Iliad 3 is parallel point by point to the coun terabduction of Draupadi, but with a surprise ending. The Teikhoskopia corre

sponds to the counterwooing; the great oath sworn corresponds to the witnessing required in both ordinary marriages and marriages by abduction, and the duel of

Menelaos and Paris to the Pandavas' combat with the army of Jayadratha. The

outcome for Paris is similar to the fate of Jayadratha, but has vastly different effects on the story.

Let us take up each of these points in turn, beginning with the Teikhoskopia. Helen's tranquil, almost elegiac musings on the wall certainly differ in mood from Draupadi's defiant speech on a lurching chariot, but the two episodes serve the same purpose: the counterwooing, the identification and announcement of the pursuers intending to reabduct the woman. The only difference is that

Draupadi speaks directly to her original abductor, while Priam serves as surro

gate or proxy for his son Paris. Remember that proxies can be used in the

original wooing, too. The seeming interruption of the action that commentators have noted, in

deed sometimes complained of-the arbitrary suspension of time between Paris's challenge to Menelaos and the actual duel that has made some consider

the Teikhoskopia an awkwardly handled intrusion in the text-is the same effect

produced by Draupadi's freeze-framed monologue in the chariot. And I think the same pointed artfulness is at work in both epics. Violent and decisive action has been set in motion, is both inevitable and imminent, and then the motion

stops at its most dramatic, while the measured, tradition-bound voice of legality and ceremony confers legitimacy on the violence to come. The duel cannot

proceed until Helen has spoken. She is not a casual onlooker, but the key to the whole.18

17. A similar point was made by Kakridis 1971: 32. 18. In this regard I think Kakridis and Postlethwaite, on the one hand, and Reckford, on the

other, have come closer than others to understanding the crucial linkage of the episodes, though clearly I do not follow them in their view of the exact nature of the linkage. According to the Kakridis-Postlethwaite hypothesis, Helen on the walls is displayed like a prize in a marriage contest,

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