The Iliad, Book 24: The Conclusion!

Summary, Book 24

Well guys, we made it!  The last book of the Iliad!  I will try to do it justice.

The book starts out with more of the same: Achilles continuing to mourn over Patroclus.  It’s… getting excessive (as if it wasn’t already) and my sympathy has run dry.  You killed the guy who killed him, you killed some other people, you buried him, you officiated over some inane sporting events… it is time to move on and deal with the reality of war.  He also can’t get enough of dragging Hector’s corpse around behind his chariot, although Apollo keeps his body from being damaged.

The gods, it seems, are about as tired of this as I am.  They are debating what to do about Hector’s body.  Apollo finally puts his foot down:

“You gods are cruel and vindictive.
Did Hector never sacrifice to you,
burning thighs of perfect bulls and goats?
And can’t you now rouse yourself to save him,
though he’s a corpse, for his wife, his mother,                            
and his child to look at, and for Priam, too,
his father, and the people, who’d burn him
with all speed and give him burial rites?
No, you want to help ruthless Achilles,
whose heart has no restraint. In that chest                                                 
his mind cannot be changed. Like some lion,
he thinks savage thoughts, a beast which follows
only its own power, its own proud heart,
as it goes out against men’s flocks, seeking
a feast of cattle—that’s how Achilles                                            
destroys compassion.

Thank you!  I’m glad someone finally had the guts to say it.  Zeus comes up with a plan to tell Thetis to convince Achilles to agree to give up Hector’s body to the Trojans for a ransom.  Iris brings Thetis to Mt. Olympus, and Zeus tells her to do just that.  Thetis readily agrees, going to her son’s hut and sitting with him.  Her method of persuasion is rather amusing.  She reminds him he won’t be alive much longer, and encourages him to get up, dine, and have sex with women.  Ha!  Maybe Thetis is seeing what I’m seeing behind this excessive mourning for Patroclus…

Anyway, Achilles hears his mother out regarding the ransom, and agrees to give up the corpse for a ransom.  Upon hearing this, Zeus sends Iris to go to Priam and pass on the news.  She tells him to go to Achilles, bringing no one with him but one herald, and taking presents with him.  Hermes will guide him safely and he will not die.

Priam tells his sons to prepare a wicker box and then goes to tell his wife, Hecuba, and ask for her advice.  Hecuba is wary, to say the least:

 No, let’s mourn here,
in our home, sitting far away from Hector.                                     
That’s what mighty Fate spun out for him
when he was born, when I gave birth to him—                                          
that swift-running dogs would devour him
far from his parents beside that powerful man.
How I wish I could rip out that man’s heart,
then eat it. That would be some satisfaction
for my son, who wasn’t playing the coward
when he killed him. No, he was standing there,
defending deep-breasted Trojan women
and Trojan men, not thinking of his safety                                   
or running off in flight.”

Don’t hold back!  Priam pretty much ignores her, which begs the question: why ask for advice?  But wait, it gets better.  He encounters his sons (including Paris) as he is getting ready to leave, and he lets loose this string of abuse:

“Hurry up, you useless children, my shame.
I wish you’d all been killed instead of Hector
by those swift ships—the entire bunch of you!
My life’s so miserable and empty.
I fathered sons, the best in spacious Troy.
I don’t think a single one of them is left—
not Mestor, or horseman Troilus, or Hector,                               
that god among men. He didn’t seem to be
the child of any mortal man, but of a god.
Ares destroyed all those sons of mine.                                                     
The ones still left here are disgraceful—
liars, prancing masters of the dance floor,
who steal lambs and goats from their own people.
Will you not prepare a wagon for me—
and quickly? Put all those items in it,
so we can start out on our way.”

I bet Paris is a prancing master of the dance floor.  Priam gathers the ransom, makes an offering to Zeus, requesting a good omen (which he receives) and then heads off on his way with the herald.  On the road he meets Hermes in disguise, who Zeus has sent down to lead Priam to the Achaean camp.  When they get to Achilles’s hut, Hermes reveals himself but tells him that he is taking off now and he is on his own to face Achilles.

Priam enters the tent, to Achilles’s surprise, and what follows is just tragic.  He kneels down and kisses Achilles’s hands.  And I’m sorry but I have to copy and paste his whole speech because it is very moving:

  “Godlike Achilles,
remember your own father, who’s as old as me,
on the painful threshold of old age.
It may well be that those who live around him
are harassing him, and no one’s there                                           
to save him from ruin and destruction.
But when he hears you’re still alive,                                                          
his heart feels joy, for every day he hopes
he’ll see his dear son come back home from Troy.
But I’m completely doomed to misery,
for I fathered the best sons in spacious Troy,
yet I say now not one of them remains.
I had fifty when Achaea’s sons arrived—
nineteen born from the same mother’s womb,
others the women of the palace bore me.                                       
Angry Ares drained the life of most of them.
But I had one left, guardian of our city,
protector of its people. You’ve just killed him,
as he was fighting for his native country.                                                  
I mean Hector. For his sake I’ve come here,
to Achaea’s ships, to win him back from you.
And I’ve brought a ransom beyond counting.
So Achilles, show deference to the gods
and pity for myself, remembering
your own father. Of the two old men,                                            
I’m more pitiful, because I have endured
what no living mortal on this earth has borne—
I’ve lifted up to my own lips and kissed
the hands of the man who killed my son.”

Wow.  This is one of the few times I have felt genuine pity for any of these characters.  Finally, something in Achilles cracks.  For the first time in forever, he thinks about someone other than Patroclus or himself.  He thinks of his father, who he knows he is fated never to see again, and then he takes Priam’s hand and the two cry together for all that they have lost and will never have again.  Excuse me, I think I’m coming down with an allergy.  *Ahem*

Anyway, we finally see a human side to Achilles.  He agrees to return Hector’s body to Priam (in exchange for the ransom, of course).  The two have dinner together, and Achilles even agrees to cease fighting for twelve days so the Trojans can give Hector a proper burial.  He seems to have turned over a new leaf.

Priam and his herald sleep outside of Achilles’s hut, until Hermes appears again and encourages them to take off with the body for their own safety.  After all, Achilles is cool right now but who knows what might happen if one of the other Achaean leaders should come upon him?  They take off and head back to Troy.

When they return, the women take turns lamenting over Hector’s corpse.  First his wife, “white-armed” Andromache, mourns for her husband and the predicted death of their child together.  Then she regrets that she had no last, deathbed words from him.  Next it is Hecuba’s turn, who marvels over the state of his corpse as she mourns.  She correctly surmises that it has been protected by Apollo.

Now it’s Helen’s turn to moan and wail, and honestly Helen?  This is your fault so you can STFU any time.  Priam takes a pragmatic turn and tells them to hurry up and get their lamentations over with because they only have limited time to bury Hector before the battle resumes.

Once they’d piled up the mound,
they went back in, gathered together for a splendid feast,
all in due order, in Priam’s house, king raised by Zeus.
And thus they buried Hector, tamer of horses.

And that is where the Iliad ends.

Reading Notes and Concluding Thoughts

This was the most moving book of the Iliad bar none.  There were books that more riveting and exciting, but I can’t get over the poignancy of the scene between Priam and Achilles.  It ends rather abruptly, but it does not feel inappropriate.  Once Hector is buried, there does not seem to be much more to tell.  There are no real loose ends, other than waiting for Achilles to die.

I’m really glad I read the Iliad.  It is unflinching (indeed, sometimes repetitive) in its description of the bloody reality of war.  There is some romanticizing, but more reality on the battlefield than you would expect from a story that includes intervention by the gods.

That’s another thing.  The gods.  They are just completely awful, arbitrary, petty and ultimately not even terribly powerful.  They can meddle, they can intervene, they can use mortals to play out their squabbles.  But they can’t change fate.  And if you can’t change fate, what kind of god are you?

Starting tomorrow I will be reading the Odyssey.  I’m looking forward to another journey with these strange and fascinating characters!