Chapter XX
The Trojan War
Minerva was the goddess of wisdom, but on one occasion she did a
very foolish thing; she entered into competition with Juno and
Venus for the prize of beauty. It happened thus. At the
nuptials of Peleus and Thetis all the gods were invited with the
exception of Eris, or Discord. Enraged at her exclusion, the
goddess threw a golden apple among the guests with the
inscription, "For the most beautiful." Thereupon Juno, Venus,
and Minerva, each claimed the apple. Jupiter not willing to
decide in so delicate a matter, sent the goddesses to Mount Ida,
where the beautiful shepherd Paris was tending his flocks, and to
him was committed the decision. The goddesses accordingly
appeared before him. Juno promised him power and riches, Minerva
glory and renown in war, and Venus the fairest of women for his
wife, each attempting to bias his decision in her own favor.
Paris decided in favor of Venus and gave her the golden apple,
thus making the two other goddesses his enemies. Under the
protection of Venus, Paris sailed to Greece, and was hospitably
received by Menelaus, king of Sparta. Now Helen, the wife of
Menelaus, was the very woman whom Venus had destined for Paris,
the fairest of her sex. She had been sought as a bride by
numerous suitors, and before her decision was made known, they
all, at the suggestion of Ulysses, one of their number, took an
oath that they would defend her from all injury and avenge her
cause if necessary. She chose Menelaus, and was living with him
happily when Paris became their guest. Paris, aided by Venus,
persuaded her to elope with him, and carried her to Troy, whence
arose the famous Trojan war, the theme of the greatest poems of
antiquity, those of Homer and Virgil.
Menelaus called upon his brother chieftains of Greece to fulfil
their pledge, and join him in his efforts to recover his wife.
They generally came forward, but Ulysses, who had married
Penelope and was very happy in his wife and child, had no
disposition to embark in such a troublesome affair. He therefore
hung back and Palamedes was sent to urge him. When Palamedes
arrived at Ithaca, Ulysses pretended to be mad. He yoked an ass
and an ox together to the plough and began to sow salt.
Palamedes, to try him, placed the infant Telemachus before the
plough, whereupon the father turned the plough aside, showing
plainly that he was no madman, and after that could no longer
refuse to fulfil his promise. Being now himself gained for the
undertaking, he lent his aid to bring in other reluctant chiefs,
especially Achilles. This hero was the son of that Thetis at
whose marriage the apple of Discord had been thrown among the
goddesses. Thetis was herself one of the immortals, a sea-nymph,
and knowing that her son was fated to perish before Troy if he
went on the expedition, she endeavored to prevent his going. She
sent him away to the court of king Lycomedes, and induced him to
conceal himself in the disguise of a maiden among the daughters
of the king. Ulysses, hearing he was there, went disguised as a
merchant to the palace and offered for sale female ornaments,
among which he had placed some arms. While the king's daughters
were engrossed with the other contents of the merchant's pack,
Achilles handled the weapons and thereby betrayed himself to the
keen eye of Ulysses, who found no great difficulty in persuading
him to disregard his mother's prudent counsels and join his
countrymen in the war.
Priam was king of Troy, and Paris, the shepherd and seducer of
Helen, was his son. Paris had been brought up in obscurity,
because there were certain ominous forebodings connected with him
from his infancy that he would be the ruin of the state. These
forebodings seemed at length likely to be realized, for the
Grecian armament now in preparation was the greatest that had
ever been fitted out. Agamemnon, king of Mycenae, and brother of
the injured Menelaus, was chosen commander-in-chief. Achilles
was their most illustrious warrior. After him ranked Ajax,
gigantic in size and of great courage, but dull of intellect,
Diomedes, second only to Achilles in all the qualities of a hero,
Ulysses, famous for his sagacity, and Nestor, the oldest of the
Grecian chiefs, and one to whom they all looked up for counsel.
But Troy was no feeble enemy. Priam, the king, was now old, but
he had been a wise prince and had strengthened his state by good
government at home and numerous alliances with his neighbors.
But the principal stay and support of his throne was his son
Hector, one of the noblest characters painted by heathen
antiquity. Hector felt, from the first, a presentiment of the
fall of his country, but still persevered in his heroic
resistance, yet by no means justified the wrong which brought
this danger upon her. He was united in marriage with Andromache,
and as a husband and father his character was not less admirable
than as a warrior. The principal leaders on the side of the
Trojans, besides Hector, were Aeneas and Deiphobus, Glaucus and
Sarpedon.
After two years of preparation the Greek fleet and army assembled
in the port of Aulis in Boeotia. Here Agamemnon in hunting
killed a stag which was sacred to Diana, and the goddess in
return visited the army with pestilence, and produced a calm
which prevented the ships from leaving the port. Calchas the
soothsayer thereupon announced that the wrath of the virgin
goddess could only be appeased by the sacrifice of a virgin on
her altar, and that none other but the daughter of the offender
would be acceptable. Agamemnon, however reluctant, yielded his
consent, and the maiden Iphigenia was sent for under the pretence
that she was to be married to Achilles. When she was about to be
sacrificed the goddess relented and snatched her away, leaving a
hind in her place, and Iphigenia enveloped in a cloud was carried
to Tauris, where Diana made her priestess of her temple.
Tennyson, in his Dream of Fair women, makes Iphigenia thus
describe her feelings at the moment of sacrifice, the moment
represented in our engraving:
"I was cut off from hope in that sad place,
Which yet to name my spirit loathes and fears;
My father held his hand upon his face;
I, blinded by my tears,
"Still strove to speak; my voice was thick with sighs,
As in a dream. Dimly I could descry
The stern black-bearded kings, with wolfish eyes,
Waiting to see me die.
"The tall masts quivered as they lay afloat,
The temples and the people and the shore;
One drew a sharp knife through my tender throat
Slowly, and nothing more."
The wind now proving fair the fleet made sail and brought the
forces to the coast of Troy. The Trojans came to oppose their
landing, and at the first onset Protesilaus fell by the hand of
Hector. Protesilaus had left at home his wife Laodamia, who was
most tenderly attached to him. When the news of his death
reached her she implored the gods to be allowed to converse with
him only three hours. The request was granted. Mercury led
Protesilaus back to the upper world, and when he died a second
time Laodamia died with him. There was a story that the nymphs
panted elm trees round his grave which grew very well till they
were high enough to command a view of Troy, and then withered
away, while fresh branches sprang from the roots.
Wordsworth has taken the story of Protesilaus and Laodamia for
the subject of a poem. It seems the oracle had declared that
victory should be the lot of that party from which should fall
the first victim to the war. The poet represents Protesilaus, on
his brief return to earth, as relating to Laodamia the story of
his fate:
"The wished-for wind was given; I then revolved
The oracle, upon the silent sea;
And if no worthier led the way, resolved
That of a thousand vessels mine should be
The foremost prow impressing to the strand,
Mine the first blood that tinged the Trojan sand.
"Yet bitter, ofttimes bitter was the pang
When of thy loss I thought, beloved wife!
On thee too fondly did my memory hang,
And on the joys we shared in mortal life,
The paths which we had trod, these fountains, flowers;
My new planned cities and unfinished towers.
"But should suspense permit the foe to cry,
'Behold they tremble! Haughty their array,
Yet of their number no one dares to die!'"
In soul I swept the indignity away;
Old frailties then recurred; but lofty thought
In act embodied my deliverance wrought.
. . . . . .. . . . . . . . . .
Upon the side
Of Hellespont (such faith was entertained)
A knot of spiry trees for ages grew
From out the tomb of him for whom she died;
And ever when such stature they had gained
That Ilium's walls were subject to their view,
The trees' tall summits withered at the sight,
A constant interchange of growth and blight!"
THE ILIAD
The war continued without decisive results for nine years. Then
an event occurred which seemed likely to be fatal to the cause of
the Greeks, and that was a quarrel between Achilles and
Agamemnon. It is at this point that the great poem of Homer, the
Iliad, begins. The Greeks, though unsuccessful against Troy, had
taken the neighboring and allied cities, and in the division of
the spoil a female captive, by name Chryseis, daughter of
Chryses, priest of Apollo, had fallen to the share of Agamemnon.
Chryses came bearing the sacred emblems of his office, and begged
the release of his daughter. Agamemnon refused. Thereupon
Chryses implored Apollo to afflict the Greeks till they should be
forced to yield their prey. Apollo granted the prayer of his
priest, and sent pestilence into the Grecian camp. Then a
council was called to deliberate how to allay the wrath of the
gods and avert the plague. Achilles boldly charged their
misfortunes upon Agamemnon as caused by his withholding Chryseis.
Agamemnon enraged, consented to relinquish his captive, but
demanded that Achilles should yield to him in her stead Briseis,
a maiden who had fallen to Achilles' share in the division of the
spoil. Achilles submitted, but forthwith declared that he would
take no further part in the war. He withdrew his forces from the
general camp and openly avowed his intention of returning home to
Greece.
The gods and goddesses interested themselves as much in this
famous war as the parties themselves. It was well known to them
that fate had decreed that Troy should fall, at last, if her
enemies should persevere and not voluntarily abandon the
enterprise. Yet there was room enough left for chance to excite
by turns the hopes and fears of the powers above who took part
with either side. Juno and Minerva, in consequence of the slight
put upon their charms by Paris, were hostile to the Trojans;
Venus for the opposite cause favored them. Venus enlisted her
admirer Mars on the same side, but Neptune favored the Greeks.
Apollo was neutral, sometimes taking one side, sometimes the
other, and Jove himself, though he loved the good King Priam, yet
exercised a degree of impartiality; not however without
exceptions.
Thetis, the mother of Achilles, warmly resented the injury done
to her son. She repaired immediately to Jove's palace, and
besought him to make the Greeks repent of their injustice to
Achilles by granting success to the Trojan arms. Jupiter
consented; and in the battle which ensued the Trojans were
completely successful. The Greeks were driven from the field,
and took refuge in their ships. Then Agamemnon called a council
of his wisest and bravest chiefs. Nestor advised that an embassy
should be sent to Achilles to persuade him to return to the
field; that Agamemnon should yield the maiden, the cause of the
dispute, with ample gifts to atone for the wrong he had done.
Agamemnon consented, and Ulysses, Ajax, and Phoenix were sent to
carry to Achilles the penitent message. They performed that
duty, but Achilles was deaf to their entreaties. He positively
refused to return to the field, and persisted in his resolution
to embark for Greece without delay. The Greeks had constructed a
rampart around their ships, and now, instead of besieging Troy,
they were in a manner besieged themselves within their rampart.
The next day after the unsuccessful embassy to Achilles, a battle
was fought, and the Trojans, favored by Jove, were successful,
and succeeded in forcing a passage through the Grecian rampart,
and were about to set fire to the ships. Neptune, seeing the
Greeks so pressed, came to their rescue. He appeared in the form
of Calchas the prophet, encouraged the warriors with his shouts,
and appealed to each individually till he raised their ardor to
such a pitch that they forced the Trojans to give way. Ajax
performed prodigies of valor, and at length encountered Hector.
Ajax shouted defiance, to which Hector replied, and hurled his
lance at the huge warrior. It was well aimed, and struck Ajax
where the belts that bore his sword and shield crossed each other
on the breast. The double guard prevented its penetrating, and
it fell harmless. Then Ajax, seeing a huge stone, one of those
that served to prop the ships, hurled it at Hector. It struck
him in the neck and stretched him on the plain. His followers
instantly seized him, and bore him off stunned and wounded.
While Neptune was thus aiding the Greeks and driving back the
Trojans, Jupiter saw nothing of what was going on, for his
attention had been drawn from the field by the wiles of Juno.
That goddess had arrayed herself in all her charms, and, to crown
all, had borrowed of Venus her girdle called Cestus, which had
the effect to heighten the wearer's charms to such a degree that
they were quite irresistible. So prepared, Juno went to join her
husband, who sat on Olympus watching the battle. When he beheld
her she looked so charming that the fondness of his early love
revived, and, forgetting the contending armies and all other
affairs of state, he thought only of her and let the battle go as
it would.
But this absorption did not continue long, and when, upon turning
his eyes downward, he beheld Hector stretched on the plain almost
lifeless from pain and bruises, he dismissed Juno in a rage,
commanding her to send Iris and Apollo to him. When Iris came he
sent her with a stern message to Neptune, ordering him instantly
to quit the field. Apollo was dispatched to heal Hector's
bruises and to inspirit his heart. These orders were obeyed with
such speed that while the battle still raged, Hector returned to
the field and Neptune betook himself to his own dominions.
An arrow from Paris's bow wounded Machaon, son of Aesculapius,
who inherited his father's art of healing, and was therefore of
great value to the Greeks as their surgeon, besides being one of
their bravest warriors. Nestor took Machaon in his chariot and
conveyed him from the field. As they passed the ships of
Achilles, that hero, looking out over the field, saw the chariot
of Nestor and recognized the old chief, but could not discern who
the wounded chief was. So calling Patroclus, his companion and
dearest friend, he sent him to Nestor's tent to inquire.
Patroclus, arriving at Nestor's tent, saw Machaon wounded, and
having told the cause of his coming would have hastened away, but
Nestor detained him, to tell him the extent of the Grecian
calamities. He reminded him also how, at the time of departing
for Troy, Achilles and himself had been charged by their
respective fathers with different advice; Achilles to aspire to
the highest pitch of glory, Patroclus, as the elder, to keep
watch over his friend, and to guide his inexperience. "Now,"
said Nestor, "is the time for such influence. If the gods so
please, thou mayest win him back to the common cause; but if not
let hm at least send his soldiers to the field, and come thou,
Patroclus, clad in his armor, and perhaps the very sight of it
may drive back the Trojans."
Patroclus was strongly moved with this address, and hastened back
to Achilles, revolving in his mind all he had seen and heard. He
told the prince the sad condition of affairs at the camp of their
late associates; Diomedes, Ulysses, Agamemnon, Machaon, all
wounded, the rampart broken down, the enemy among the ships
preparing to burn them, and thus to cut off all means of return
to Greece. While they spoke the flames burst forth from one of
the ships. Achilles, at the sight, relented so far as to grant
Patroclus his request to lead the Myrmidons (for so were
Achilles' soldiers called) to the field, and to lend him his
armor that he might thereby strike more terror into the minds of
the Trojans. Without delay the soldiers were marshalled,
Patroclus put on the radiant armor and mounted the chariot of
Achilles, and led forth the men ardent for battle. But before he
went, Achilles strictly charged him that he should be content
with repelling the foe. "Seek not," said he, "to press the
Trojans without me, lest thou add still more to the disgrace
already mine." Then exhorting the troops to do their best he
dismissed them full of ardor to the fight.
Patroclus and his Myrmidons at once plunged into the contest
where it raged hottest; at the sight of which the joyful Grecians
shouted and the ships reechoed the acclaim. The Trojans, at the
sight of the well-known armor, struck with terror, looked every
where for refuge. First those who had got possession of the ship
and set it on fire left and allowed the Grecians to retake it and
extinguish the flames. Then the rest of the Trojans fled in
dismay. Ajax, Menelaus, and the two sons of Nestor performed
prodigies of valor. Hector was forced to turn his horses' heads
and retire from the enclosure, leaving his men entangled in the
fosse to escape as they could. Patroclus drove them before him,
slaying many, none daring to make a stand against him.
At last Sarpedon, son of Jove, ventured to oppose himself in
fight to Patroclus. Jupiter looked down upon him and would have
snatched him from the fate which awaited him, but Juno hinted
that if he did so it would induce all others of the inhabitants
of heaven to interpose in like manner whenever any of their
offspring were endangered; to which reason Jove yielded.
Sarpedon threw his spear but missed Patroclus, but Patroclus
threw his with better success. It pierced Sarpedon's breast and
he fell, and, calling to his friends to save his body from the
foe, expired. Then a furious contest arose for the possession of
the corpse. The Greeks succeeded and stripped Sarpedon of his
armor; but Jove would not allow the remains of his son to be
dishonored, and by his command Apollo snatched from the midst of
the combatants the body of Sarpedon and committed it to the care
of the twin brothers Death and Sleep, by whom it was transported
to Lycia, the native land of Sarpedon, where it received due
funeral rites.
Thus far Patroclus had succeeded to his utmost wish in repelling
the Trojans and relieving his countrymen, but now came a change
of fortune. Hector, borne in his chariot, confronted him.
Patroclus threw a vast stone at Hector, which missed its aim, but
smote Cebriones, the charioteer, and knocked him from the car.
Hector leaped from the chariot to rescue his friend, and
Patroclus also decended to complete his victory. Thus the two
heroes met face to face. At this decisive moment the poet, as if
reluctant to give Hector the glory, records that Phoebus took
part against Patroclus. He struck the helmet from his head and
the lance from his hand. At the same moment an obscure Trojan
wounded him in the back, and Hector pressing forward pierced him
with his spear. He fell mortally wounded.
Then arose a tremendous conflict for the body of Patroclus, but
his armor was at once taken possession of by Hector, who,
retiring a short distance, divested himself of his own armor and
put on that of Achilles, then returned to the fight. Ajax and
Menelaus defended the body, and Hector and his bravest warriors
struggled to capture it. The battle raged with equal fortune,
when Jove enveloped the whole face of heaven with a dark cloud.
The lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and Ajax, looking
round for some one whom he might dispatch to Achilles to tell him
of the death of his friend and of the imminent danger that his
remains would fall into the hands of the enemy, could see no
suitable messenger. It was then that he exclaimed in those
famous lines so often quoted,
"Father of heaven and earth! Deliver thou
Achaia's host from darkness; clear the skies;
Give day; and, since thy sovereign will is such,
Destruction with it; but, oh, give us day."
Cowper.
Or, as rendered by Pope,
"Lord of earth and air!
Oh, king! Oh, father! Hear my humble prayer!
Dispel this cloud, the light of heaven restore;
Give me to see and Ajax asks no more;
If Greece must perish we thy will obey
But let us perish in the face of day."
Jupiter heard the prayer and dispersed the clouds. Then Ajax
sent Antilochus to Achilles with the intelligence of Patroclus's
death, and of the conflict raging for his remains. The Greeks at
last succeeded in bearing off the body to the ships, closely
pursued by Hector and Aeneas and rest of the Trojans.
Achilles heard the fate of his friend with such distress that
Antilochus feared for a while that he would destroy himself. His
groans reached the ears of his mother, Thetis, far down in the
deeps of ocean where she abode, and she hastened to him to
inquire the cause. She found him overwhelmed with self-reproach
that he had indulged his resentment so far, and suffered his
friend to fall a victim to it. But his only consolation was the
hope of revenge. He would fly instantly in search of Hector.
But his mother reminded him that he was now without armor, and
promised him, if he would but wait till the morrow, she would
procure for him a suit of armor from Vulcan more than equal to
that he had lost. He consented, and Thetis immediately repaired
to Vulcan's palace. She found him busy at his forge making
tripods for his own use, so artfully constructed that they moved
forward of their own accord when wanted, and retired again when
dismissed. On hearing the request of Thetis, Vulcan immediately
laid aside his work and hastened to comply with her wishes. He
fabricated a splendid suit of armor for Achilles, first a shield
adorned with elaborate devices, then a helmet crested with gold,
then a corslet and greaves of impenetrable temper, all perfectly
adapted to his form, and of consummate workmanship. It was all
done in one night, and Thetis, receiving it, descended with it to
earth and laid it down at Achilles' feet at the dawn of day.
The first glow of pleasure that Achilles had felt since the death
of Petroclus was at the sight of this splendid armor. And now
arrayed in it, he went forth into the camp, calling all the
chiefs to council. When they were all assembled he addressed
them. Renouncing his displeasure against Agamemnon and bitterly
lamenting the miseries that had resulted from it, he called on
them to proceed at once to the field. Agamemnon made a suitable
reply, laying all the blame on Ate, the goddess of discord, and
thereupon complete reconcilement took place between the heroes.
Then Achilles went forth to battle, inspired with a rage and
thirst for vengeance that made him irresistible. The bravest
warriors fled before him or fell by his lance. Hector, cautioned
by Apollo, kept aloof, but the god, assuming the form of one of
Priam's sons, Lycaon, urged AEneas to encounter the terrible
warrior. AEneas, though he felt himself unequal, did not decline
the combat. He hurled his spear with all his force against the
shield, the work of Vulcan. It was formed of five metal plates;
two were of brass, two of tin, and one of gold. The spear
pierced two thicknesses, but was stopped in the third. Achilles
threw his with better success. It pierced through the shield of
Aeneas, but glanced near his shoulder and made no wound. Then
AEneas seized a stone, such as two men of modern times could
hardly lift, and was about to throw it, and Achilles, with sword
drawn, was about to rush upon him, when Neptune, who looked out
upon the contest, moved with pity for AEneas, who he saw would
surely fall a victim if not speedily rescued, spread a cloud
between the combatants, and lifting AEneas from the ground, bore
him over the heads of warriors and steeds to the rear of the
battle. Achilles, when the mist cleared away, looked round in
vain for his adversary, and acknowledging the prodigy, turned his
arms against other champions. But none dared stand before him,
and Priam looking down from his city walls beheld his whole army
in full flight towards the city. He gave command to open wide
the gates to receive the fugitives, and to shut them as soon as
the Trojans should have passed, lest the enemy should enter
likewise. But Achilles was so close in pursuit that that would
have been impossible if Apollo had not, in the form of Agenor,
Priam's son, encountered Achilles for a while, then turned to
fly, and taken the way apart from the city. Achilles pursued and
had chased his supposed victim far from the walls, when Apollo
disclosed himself, and Achilles, perceiving how he had been
deluded, gave up the chase.
But when the rest had escaped into the town Hector stood without,
determined to await the combat. His old father called to him
from the walls and begged him to retire nor tempt the encounter.
His mother, Hecuba, also besought him to the same effect, but all
in vain. "How can I," said he to himself, "by whose command the
people went to this day's contest, where so many have fallen,
seek safety for myself against a single foe? But what if I offer
him to yield up Helen and all her treasures and ample of our own
beside? Ah no! It is too late. He would not even hear me
through, but slay me while I spoke." While he thus ruminated,
Achilles approached, terrible as Mars, his armor flashing
lighting as he moved. At that sight Hector's heart failed him
and he fled. Achilles swiftly pursued. They ran, still keeping
near the walls, till they had thrice encircled the city. As
often as Hector approached the walls Achilles intercepted him and
forced him to keep out in a wider circle. But Apollo sustained
Hector's strength, and would not let him sink in weariness. Then
Pallas, assuming the form of Deiphobus, Hector's bravest brother,
appeared suddenly at his side. Hector saw him with delight, and,
thus strengthened, stopped his flight and turned to meet
Achilles. Hector threw his spear, which struck the shield of
Achilles and bounded back. He turned to receive another from the
hand of Deiphobus, but Deiphobus was gone. Then Hector
understood his doom and said, "Alas! It is plain this is my hour
to die! I thought Deiphobus at hand, but Pallas deceived me, and
he is still in Troy. But I will not fall inglorious." So
saying, he drew his falchion from his side and rushed at once to
combat. Achilles, secured behind his shield, waited the approach
of Hector. When he came within reach of his spear, Achilles,
choosing with his eye a vulnerable part where the armor leaves
the neck uncovered, aimed his spear at that part, and Hector
fell, death-wounded, and feebly said, "Spare my body! Let my
parents ransom it, and let me receive funeral rites from the sons
and daughters of Troy." To which Achilles replied, "Dog, name
not ransom nor pity to me, on whom you have brought such dire
distress. No! Trust me, nought shall save thy carcass from the
dogs. Though twenty ransoms and thy weight in gold were offered,
I would refuse it all."
So saying, he stripped the body of its armor, and fastening cords
to the feet, tied them behind his chariot, leaving the body to
trail along the ground. Then mounting the chariot he lashed the
steeds, and so dragged the body to and fro before the city. What
words can tell the grief of King Priam and Queen Hecuba at this
sight! His people could scarce restrain the old king from
rushing forth. He threw himself in the dust, and besought them
each by name to give him way. Hecuba's distress was not less
violent. The citizens stood round them weeping. The sound of
the mourning reached the ears of Andromache, the wife of Hector,
as she sat among her maidens at work, and anticipating evil she
went forth to the wall. When she saw the sight there presented,
she would have thrown herself headlong from the wall, but fainted
and fell into the arms of her maidens. Recovering, she bewailed
her fate, picturing to herself her country ruined, herself a
captive, and her son dependent for his bread on the charity of
strangers.
When Achilles and the Greeks had taken their revenge on the
killer of Patroclus they busied themselves in paying due funeral
rites to their friend. A pile was erected, and the body burned
with due solemnity; and then ensued games of strength and skill,
chariot races, wrestling, boxing, and archery. Then the chiefs
sat down to the funeral banquet and after that retired to rest.
But Achilles neither partook of the feast nor of sleep. The
recollection of his lost friend kept him awake, remembering their
companionship in toil and dangers, in battle or on the perilous
deep. Before the earliest dawn he left his tent, and joining to
his chariot his swift steeds, he fastened Hector's body to be
dragged behind. Twice he dragged him round the tomb of
Patroclus, leaving him at length stretched in the dust. But
Apollo would not permit the body to be torn or disfigured with
all this abuse, but preserved it free from all taint or
defilement.
When Achilles indulged his wrath in thus disgracing brave Hector,
Jupiter in pity summoned Thetis to his presence. He told her to
go to her son and prevail on him to restore the body of Hector to
his friends. Then Jupiter sent Iris to King Priam to encourage
him to go to Achilles and beg the body of his son. Iris
delivered her message, and Priam immediately prepared to obey.
He opened his treasures and took out rich garments and cloths,
with ten talents in gold and two splendid tripods and a golden
cup of matchless workmanship. Then he called to his sons and
bade them draw forth his litter and place in it the various
articles designed for a ransom to Achilles.
When all was ready, the old king with a single companion, as aged
as himself, the herald Idaeus, drove forth from the gates,
parting there with Hecuba his queen, and all his friends, who
lamented him as going to certain death.
But Jupiter, beholding with compassion the venerable king, sent
Mercury to be his guide and protector. Mercury, assuming the
form of a young warrior, presented himself to the aged couple,
and while at the sight of him they hesitated whether to fly or
yield, the god approached, and grasping Priam's hand, offered to
be their guide to Achilles' tent. Priam gladly accepted his
offered service, and he, mounting the carriage, assumed the reins
and soon conveyed them to the tent of Achilles. Mercury's wand
put to sleep all the guards, and without hindrance he introduced
Priam into the tent where Achilles sat, attended hy two of his
warriors. The old king threw himself at the feet of Achilles and
kissed those terrible hands which had destroyed so many of his
sons. "Think, O Achilles," he said, "of thy own father, full of
days like me, and trembling on the gloomy verge of life. Perhaps
even now some neighbor chief oppresses him, and there is none at
hand to succor him in his distress. Yet doubtless knowing that
Achilles lives he still rejoices, hoping that one day he shall
see thy face again. But no comfort cheers me, whose bravest
sons, so late the flower of Ilium, all have fallen. Yet one I
had, one more than all the rest the strength of my age, whom
fighting for his country, thou hast slain. I come to redeem his
body, bringing inestimable ransom with me. Achilles, reverence
the gods! Recollect thy father! For his sake show compassion to
me!" These words moved Achilles and he wept; remembering by
turns his absent father and his lost friend. Moved with pity of
Priam's silver locks and beard, he raised him from the earth and
thus spake: "Priam, I know that thou has reached this place
conducted by some god, for without divine aid no mortal even in
the prime of youth had dared the attempt. I grant thy request;
moved thereto by the evident will of Jove." So saying he arose,
and went forth with his two friends, and unloaded of its charge
the litter, leaving two mantles and a robe for the covering of
the body, which they placed on the litter, and spread the
garments over it, that not unveiled it should be borne back to
Troy. Then Achilles dismissed the old king with his attendants,
having first pledged himself to allow a truce of twelve days for
the funeral solemnities.
As the litter approached the city and was descried from the
walls, the people poured forth to gaze once more on the face of
their hero. Foremost of all, the mother and the wife of Hector
came, and at the sight of the lifeless body renewed their
lamentations. The people all wept with them, and to the going
down of the sun there was no pause or abatement of their grief.
The next day preparations were made for the funeral solemnities.
For nine days the people brought wood and built the pile, and on
the tenth they placed the body on the summit and applied the
torch; while all Troy, thronging forth, encompassed the pile.
When it had completely burned, they quenched the cinders with
wine, collected the bones and placed them in a golden urn, which
they buried in the earth, and reared a pile of stones over the
spot.
"Such honors Ilium to her hero paid,
And peaceful slept the mighty Hector's shade."
Pope's Homer
Chapter XXI
The Fall of Troy. Return of the Greeks. Orestes and Electra
The story of the Iliad ends with the death of Hector, and it is
from the Odyssey and later poems that we learn the fate of the
other heroes. After the death of Hector, Troy did not
immediately fall, but receiving aid from new allies still
continued its resistance. One of these allies was Memnon, the
AETHIOPIAN prince, whose story we have already told. Another was
Penthesilea, queen of the Amazons, who came with a band of female
warriors. All the authorities attest their valor and the fearful
effect of their war-cry. Penthesilea slew many of the bravest
warriors, but was at last slain by Achilles. But when the hero
bent over his fallen foe, and contemplated her beauty, youth and
valor, he bitterly regretted his victory. Thersites, an insolent
brawler and demagogue, ridiculed his grief, and was in
consequence slain by the hero.
Achilles by chance had seen Polyxena, daughter of King Priam,
perhaps on occasion of the truce which was allowed the Trojans
for the burial of Hector. He was captivated with her charms, and
to win her in marriage agreed to use his influence with the
Greeks to grant peace to Troy. While in the temple of Apollo,
negotiating the marriage, Paris discharged at him a poisoned
arrow, which guided by Apollo, wounded Achilles in the heel, the
only vulnerable part about him. For Thetis, his mother, had
dipped him when an infant in the river Styx, which made every
part of him invulnerable except the heel by which she held him.
(The story of the invulnerability of Achilles is not found in
Homer, and is inconsistent with his account. For how could
Achilles require the aid of celestial armor if he were
invulnerable?)
The body of Achilles, so treacherously slain, was rescued by Ajax
and Ulysses. Thetis directed the Greeks to bestow her son's
armor on the hero who, of all survivors, should be judged most
deserving of it. Ajax and Ulysses were the only claimants; a
select number of the other chiefs were appointed to award the
prize. It was awarded to Ulysses, thus placing wisdom before
valor; whereupon Ajax slew himself. On the spot where his blood
sank into the earth a flower sprang up, called the hyacinth,
bearing on its leaves the first two letters of the name of Ajax,
Ai, the Greek for "woe." Thus Ajax is a claimant with the boy
Hyacinthus for the honor of giving birth to this flower. There
is a species of Larkspur which represents the hyacinth of the
poets in preserving the memory of this event, the Delphinium
Ajacis Ajax's Larkspur.
It was now discovered that Troy could not be taken but by the
arrows of Hercules. They were in possession of Philoctetes, the
friend who had been with Hercules at the last, and lighted his
funeral pyre. Philoctetes had joined the Grecian expedition
against Troy, but had accidentally wounded his foot with one of
the poisoned arrows, and the smell from his wound proved so
offensive that his companions carried him to the Isle of Lemnos
and left him there. Diomedes was now sent to induce him to
rejoin the army. He succeeded. Philoctetes was cured of his
wound by Machaon, and Paris was the first victim of the fatal
arrows. In his distress Paris bethought him of one whom in his
prosperity he had forgotten. This was the nymph OEnone, whom he
had married when a youth, and had abandoned for the fatal beauty
Helen. OEnone, remembering the wrongs she had suffered, refused
to heal the wound, and Paris went back to Troy and died. OEnone
quickly repented, and hastened after him with remedies, but came
too late, and in her grief hung herself.
Tennyson has chosen OEnone as the subject of a short poem; but he
has omitted the concluding part of the story, the return of Paris
wounded, her cruelty and subsequent repentance.
"---- Hither came at noon
Mournful OENONE, wandering forlorn
Of Paris, once her playmate on the hills.
Her cheek had lost the rose, and round her neck
Floated her hair, or seemed to float in rest.
She, leaning on a fragment twined with vine,
Sang to the stillness, till the mountain-shade
Sloped downward to her seat from the upper cliff.
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
"'O Mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida,
Dear Mother Ida, hearken ere I die.
I waited underneath the dawning hills,
Aloft the mountain lawn was dewy-dark,
And dewy-dark aloft the mountain pine:
Beautiful Paris, evil-hearted Paris,
Leading a jet-black goat, white-horned, white-hooved,
Come up from reedy Simois, all alone.
"'O Mother Ida, hearken ere I die.
Far off the torrent called me from the cliff:
Far up the solitary morning smote
The streaks of virgin snow. With downdropt eyes
I sat alone: white-breasted like a star
Fronting the dawn he moved; a leopard-skin
Drooped from his shoulder, but his sunny hair
Clustered about his temples like a God's,
And his cheek brightened as the foambow brightens
When the wind blows the foam, and all my heart
Went forth to embrace him coming, ere he came.
"'Dear Mother Ida, hearken ere I die.
He smiled, and opening out his milk-white palm
Disclosed a fruit of pure Hesperian gold,
That smelt ambrosially, and while I looked
And listened, the full-flowing river of speech
Came down upon my heart.
"My own OENONE,
Beautiful-browed OENONE, my own soul,
Behold this fruit, whose gleaming rind ingraven
'For the most fair,' would seem award it thine
As lovelier than whatever Oread haunt
The knolls of Ida, loveliest in all grace
Of movement, and the charm of married brows."
"'Dear Mother Ida, hearken ere I die.
He prest the blossom of his lips to mine,
And added, "This was cast upon the board,
When all the full-faced presence of the gods
Hanged in the halls of Peleus; whereupon
Rose feud, with question unto whom 'twas due;
But light-foot Iris brought it yester-eve
Delivering, that to me, by common voice
Elected umpire, Her‚ comes to-day,
Pallas and Aphrodite, claiming each
This meed of fairest. Thou within the cave
Beyond yon whispering tuft of oldest pine,
May'st well behold them unbeheld, unheard
Hear all, and see thy Paris judge of gods."'"
There was in Troy a celebrated statue of Minerva called the
Palladium. It was said to have fallen from heaven, and the
belief was that the city could not be taken so long as this
statue remained within it. Ulysses and Diomedes entered the city
in disguise, and succeeded in obtaining the Palladium, which they
carried off to the Grecian camp.
But Troy still held out, and the Greeks began to despair of ever
subduing it by force, and by advice of Ulysses resolved to resort
to stratagem. They pretended to be making preparations to
abandon the siege, and a portion of the ships were withdrawn, and
lay hid behind a neighboring island. The Greeks then constructed
an immense WOODEN HORSE, which they gave out was intended as a
propitiatory offering to Minerva, but in fact was filled with
armed men. The remaining Greeks then betook themselves to their
ships and sailed away, as if for a final departure. The Trojans,
seeing the encampment broken up and the fleet gone, concluded the
enemy to have abandoned the siege. The gates were thrown open,
and the whole population issued forth rejoicing at the long-
prohibited liberty of passing freely over the scene of the late
encampment. The great horse was the chief object of curiosity.
All wondered what it could be for. Some recommended to take it
into the city as a trophy; others felt afraid of it.
While they hesitate, Laocoon, the priest of Neptune, exclaims,
"What madness, citizens, is this! Have you not learned enough of
Grecian fraud to be on your guard against it? For my part I fear
the Greeks even when they offer gifts." So saying he threw his
lance at the horse's side. It struck, and a hollow sound
reverberated like a groan. Then perhaps the people might have
taken his advice and destroyed the fatal horse and all its
contents; but just at that moment a group of people appeared
dragging forward one who seemed a prisoner and a Greek.
Stupefied with terror he was brought before the chiefs, who
reassured him, promising that his life should be spared on
condition of his returning true answers to the questions asked
him. He informed them that he was a Greek, Sinon by name, and
that in consequence of the malice of Ulysses he had been left
behind by his countrymen at their departure. With regard to the
wooden horse, he told them that it was a propitiatory offering to
Minerva, and made so huge for the express purpose of preventing
its being carried within the city; for Calchas the prophet had
told them that if the Trojans took possession of it, they would
assuredly triumph over the Greeks. This language turned the tide
of the people's feelings, and they began to think how they might
best secure the monstrous horse and the favorable auguries
connected with it, when suddenly a prodigy occurred which left no
room to doubt. There appeared advancing over the sea two immense
serpents. They came upon the land, and the crowd fled in all
directions. The serpents advanced directly to the spot where
Laocoon stood with his two sons. They first attacked the
children, winding round their bodies and breathing their
pestilential breath in their faces. The father, attempting to
rescue them, is next seized and involved in the serpents' coils.
He struggles to tear them away, but they overpower all his
efforts and strangle him and the children in their poisonous
folds. This event was regarded as a clear indication of the
displeasure of the gods at Laocoon's irreverent treatment of the
wooden horse, which they no longer hesitated to regard as a
sacred object and prepared to introduce with due solemnity into
the city. This was done with songs and triumphal acclamations,
and the day closed with festivity. In the night the armed men
who were enclosed in the body of the horse, being led out by the
traitor Sinon, opened the gates of the city to their friends who
had returned under cover of the night. The city was set on fire;
the people, overcome with feasting and sleep, put to the sword, and Troy completely subdued. |
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