Quick Update

Just in case there is anyone actually reading this, I want to provide a little bit of an update.  For the Odyssey, I am going to be trying something a bit different.  I will still have summaries and reading notes, but instead of reading it online as I did with the Iliad, I am going to be doing a combination of things.  I am going to try listening to an audio book (something I have never done before), in the hopes that listening to it will help me pick up on some of the nuances.  I think this will be especially helpful considering that the Homeric epics started out in an oral tradition.

To complement my reading, I have purchased an online course about the Odyssey from www.thegreatcourses.com.  It is taught by well-known classicist Dr. Elizabeth Vandiver of the University of Texas at Austin.  I'm one lecture in and it seems fascinating.  I think it will be an excellent companion to my reading.

I hope to have a post up tonight or tomorrow.  Take care!

-Lily

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!

The Iliad, Book 23

Summary, Book 23

There is no way that Book 23 could live up to the drama and intensity of Book 22 and the death of Hector.  And it doesn’t, although it is fascinating in its own way.

Achilles keeps his men, the Myrmidons, together In order to begin formally mourning Patroclus.  They continue dishonoring Hector’s corpse, and then his men try to convince him to wash the splattered blood off of himself.  He refuses to do so until Patroclus is buried, although he reluctantly agrees to eat something.  He then goes to the shore and moans and mourns until he is so exhausted that he falls to sleep.

In one of the eeriest moments of the Iliad, Patroclus appears to Achilles as a ghost while he sleeps:

 “You’re asleep, Achilles.                                              
You’ve forgotten me. While I was alive,                                                      
you never did neglect me. But now I’m dead.
So bury me as quickly as you can.
Then I can pass through the gates of Hades.
The spirits, ghosts of the dead, keep me away.
They don’t let me join them past the river.
So I wander aimlessly round Hades’ home
by its wide gates. Give me your hand, I beg you,
for I’ll never come again from Hades,        
once you’ve given me what’s due, my funeral fire.”

What?  Seriously, Patroclus?  I could (and have) accused Achilles of many flaws and traits, but forgetting about you is decidedly not one of them.  This is sad, from Achilles:

“Dear friend, why have you come to me here,
telling me everything I need to do?
I’ll carry out all these things for you,
attend to your request. But come closer.
Let’s hold each other one short moment more,
enjoying a shared lament together.”

He reaches out, but gets nothing but air.  Patroclus is gone.

“How sad!
It seems that even in Hades’ house,
some spirit or ghost remains, but our being
is not there at all. For this entire night
the ghost of poor Patroclus stood beside me,
weeping, lamenting, asking me to do things,
in every detail amazingly like him.”

This inspires him and the other Myrmidons to keep mourning until dawn.

When morning comes, Agamemnon sends out Achaeans to gather wood for Patroclus’s funeral pyre.  They reach the place Achilles has selected and they set the body down with the wood.  Achilles cuts a lock of his hair, which he had grown out to use as an offering to the River Spercheus (?) when he returned to his native land.  But since he will not be returning, he will cut it and leave it with Patroclus’s corpse.  Okay then.  Achilles and the Achaeans sacrifice animals on the funeral pyre.  Achilles also slices up the twelve Trojan men he took from the river alive and throws them in the pyre, too.  He’s a man of his word, that Achilles.  He also proclaims that he will feed Hector’s body to the dogs, but Apollo and Aphrodite protect his body.

But wait, we have a problem.  Patroclus’s pyre will not catch fire!  Achilles knows what to do.  He prays to the north and west winds, promising fine offerings if the winds will start the fire up.  Iris sends them the message, and they do as Achilles asks.  The fire starts up:

Just as a father mourns his son, when he burns his bones,
his newly married son, whose death brings parents
dreadful sorrow—that’s how Achilles kept crying then,
as he burned his companion’s bones, dragging himself
round and round the pyre, lamenting endlessly.

The next day, Achilles brings out a bunch of prizes and announces that they are prizes for the various funeral games.  There will be a chariot race, a boxing match, a wrestling match, races, duels, weight throwing, archery contests and spear throwing contests.  The prizes consist of mules, oxen, cauldrons and various other goods including, of course, women.

Diomedes wins the chariot race, but not without some help from Athena.  It’s sort of shaky, because Diomedes was winning but Apollo knocked his whip out of his hand which allowed Eumelus to pass him.  Athena gives him back his whip and then snaps Eumelus’s chariot yoke, causing him to be thrown from the chariot and seriously injured.  There’s lots of drama in this race, with Antilochus basically fouling Menelaus.  Menelaus is fuming.  There is some debate over the legitimate first and second prize winner, but Diomedes ends up winning.

They describe some of the other games and there is some drama but I’m not going to bother with the details because I do not think they are especially relevant.  At the end of the section, the spear-throwing contest is about to start but Achilles stands up to speak to Agamemnon:

 “Son of Atreus,                                                          
we know how you surpass all others,
how in the spear throw you’re much stronger,
better than anyone. So take this prize,
as you go to your hollow ships. Let’s give
the spear to warrior Meriones, if your heart
is pleased with that. It’s what I’d like to do.”

Aww, he gives the prize to Agamemnon without even having to compete.  They’re buds again!  And that’s the end of the penultimate book of the Iliad.

Reading Notes

As filler chapters go, this is a good one.  It’s clearly meant to serve as a break between the dramatic climax of the work (the death of Hector) and the conclusion.  I could have done without a lot of the petty details of the funeral games, but the beginning when Patroclus’s ghost appears is both moving and creepy.

Stay tuned for the conclusion!

The Iliad, Book 22

Summary, Book 22

Here it is; the showdown we have all been waiting for.  Achilles vs. Hector.  This is not your classic good vs. evil clash, because neither side is wholly sympathetic.  But there is certainly enough drama to go around.

The book begins with the Trojans retreating into the safety of the city walls.  Hector, however, is still hanging out outside the gates.  Apollo, meanwhile, approaches Achilles and mocks him, revealing to him that he deceived him in the previous scene (disguising himself as Agenor).  Achilles is enraged and laments the fact that he is not powerful enough to kill a god.

While this is happening, Priam and his wife, Hecuba, stand at the gates and try to lure their son back into the city.  Priam mourns the loss of several of his other sons, and begs Priam to come in.  We then get this highly disturbing gem from Hecuba:

Then she undid her robe,
and with her hands pushed out her breasts, shedding tears.                 
She cried out, calling him—her words had wings:

“Hector, my child, respect and pity me.
If I ever gave these breasts to soothe you,
remember that, dear child. Protect yourself
against your enemy inside these walls.
Don’t stand out there to face him. Stubborn man,
if he kills you, I’ll never lay you out
on your death bed or mourn for you, my child,
my dearest offspring—nor will your fair wife.
Far away from us, beside Achaean ships,                               
their swift dogs will eat you.”

Good lord, that is inappropriate. Anyway, it is to no avail.  Hector is debating what to do and he decides to stay and fight Achilles.  But as he sees Achilles approaching he is seized with terror and starts to run. Achilles chases him several times around the city walls, as the gods look on.

Zeus pities Hector, and mulls over whether or not to save him.  I thought this was established?  They can’t change fate!  Athena, despite being merciless, makes sense in her response:

  “Father, lord of lightning and dark clouds,                                   
what are you saying? How can you want
to snatch the man back from his wretched death.                                     
He’s mortal—his fate doomed him long ago.
Well, do as you wish, but we other gods
will not all approve your actions.”

Zeus concedes her point and frees her up to go down from Olympus and set things in motion.  He puts both Achilles’s and Hector’s fates on his famous golden scale, and he gets the expected result:  Hector is toast.  At that, Apollo abandons Hector and the end is near.

Athena first goes to Achilles and tells him to take a rest and that she will bring Hector to him.  Overjoyed, Achilles obeys.  Athena than appears to Hector in the form of Deïphobus, his brother, offering his assistance in fighting Achilles.  Hector’s reply, and in fact this whole scene, is actually heartbreaking:

“Deïphobus, in the past you’ve always been
the brother whom I loved the most by far                                    
of children born to Hecuba and Priam.
I think I now respect you even more,
since you have dared to come outside the wall,
to help me, when you saw me in distress,
while the others all remained inside.”

Renewed by the help of his “brother”, Hector confronts Achilles.  Achilles tosses a spear at him and misses, but Athena returns it to him.  Hector then tosses his own spear and it hits Achilles’s shield but bounces off.  Hector turns to Deïphobus to ask for his spear, but he’s gone.  Now Hector sees what is happening, and sees that Athena deceived him.  It’s really sad:

 “This is it, then.
The gods are summoning me to my death.
I thought warrior Deïphobus was close by.
But he’s inside the walls, and Athena
has deceived me. Now evil death is here,                                                 
right beside me, not somewhere far away.
There’s no escape. For a long time now,
this must have been what Zeus desired,                                       
and Zeus’ son, the god who shoots from far,
and all those who willingly gave me help
in earlier days. So now I meet my fate.
Even so, let me not die ingloriously
without a fight, but in some great action
which those men yet to come will hear about.”

Hector charges Achilles and is sliced in the neck with Achilles’s spear.  He is mortally wounded, but as he falls he is still able to speak.  He begs Achilles to return his body to his family so they can give him a proper burial.  Achilles laughs and mocks him and assures him that the dogs and birds will eat him.  Hearing this, Hector utters his last words:

“I know you well. I recognize in you
what I expected— you’d not be convinced.
For your heart and mind are truly iron.                                         
But think of this—I may bring down on you
the anger of the gods that very day
when Paris and Phoebus Apollo,
in spite of all your courage, slaughter you                                                
beside the Scaean Gate.”

With that, Hector dies.  He is one of very few remotely sympathetic characters in the Iliad, and it is a sad and brave death.  It also seems to be something of a theme that, with their last breath, those who are killed remind their killer of their own mortality and their own fate.  Sort of a last zing.  Good for him.

Once Hector is dead, Achilles strips his corpse of his armour (which, actually, is Achilles’s original armour that he lent to Patroclus for that brilliantly conceived plan of substitution.)  Achilles and the other Achaeans descend on Hector’s corpse and mutilate it, stabbing it.  Achilles then ties Hector’s body to the back of a chariot  and drags it behind him through the dirt.  Priam and Hecuba see this and are devastated, wailing with grief for their favourite son.

Andromache, Hector’s wife, is weaving a cloak in her room when she hears the sounds of extreme grief coming from outside.  In her heart she knows the cause, but she brings her ladies outside to see what is happening.  Then she sees Hector’s corpse being dragged behind Achilles’s chariot and collapses with grief, lamenting her son’s fate.  Her ladies join her in her lamentations.  And that is where Book 22 ends.

Reading Notes

This was an extraordinarily powerful section.  I genuinely feel for Hector.  There was a period of a few books where I thought he was spiralling a bit out of control, but I think that lack of exposure to Achilles is what caused my sympathy to wane.  Once Achilles was back on the scene and I remembered just how insufferable he was, I once again felt sorry for Hector.

And honestly, none of this is Hector’s fault.  His brother started this mess by running off with another guy’s wife and here he is sacrificing his life so his brother can screw a woman who, while beautiful, sounds completely wretched in every other respect.

I suppose you could say that revenge has been served for the death of Patroclus.  And yes, Hector (and Apollo) killed him.  But it all comes back to Achilles and his refusal to fight.  That is why Patroclus is dead to begin with.  Is this rage at Hector something of a projection?

There are only two more books, but I don’t think we can top this chapter for drama and upheaval.

The Iliad, Book 21

Summary, Book 21

Book 21 begins with Achilles continuing his rampage.  He slaughters and splits up the Trojans, driving half of them into the river Xanthus (also known as Scamander).  The river’s waters are flowing red with blood, and it’s a pretty gruesome scene:

When Achilles’ arms grew weary from the killing,
he plucked out of the river twelve young men alive,
as blood payment for the killing of Patroclus,
Menoetius’ son. He led them up onto dry land,
like stupefied fawns, tied their hands behind them,    
using belts they wore around their woven tunics,                                              
and gave them to his men to lead back to the ships.
Then he jumped in again, eager to keep killing.

This is the aforementioned twelve, I suppose.  “Stupefied fawns” is such a sad image.

Achilles now notices one of Priam’s sons, Lycaon, escaping from the river.  Achilles and Priam seem to have something of a history: Achilles has captured him once before and let him go. (Well, okay, not quite; he sold him into slavery and Lycaon escaped.  But he didn’t kill him!)  Lycaon grips Achilles’s knees and begs for his life, but Achilles is not exactly in a merciful state of mind:

“You fool,
don’t offer me a ransom or some plea.
Before Patroclus met his deadly fate,                                                        
sparing Trojans pleased my heart much more.
I took many overseas and sold them.                                              
But now not one of them escapes his death,
no one whom god delivers to my hands,
here in front of Ilion, not one—
not a single Trojan, especially none
of Priam’s children. So now, my friend,
you too must die. Why be sad about it?
Patroclus died, a better man than you.
And look at me. You see how fine I am,
how tall, how handsome? My father’s a fine man,
the mother who gave birth to me a goddess.                                  
Yet over me, as well, hangs Fate—my death.                                           
There’ll come a dawn, or noon, or evening,
when some man will take my life in battle—
he’ll strike me with his spear or with an arrow
shot from his bowstring.”

With that, Achilles chops Lycaon’s head off.  Well then.  This scene has seriously angered the river, who begins plotting against Achilles.  More on that later.  Achilles’s sight now lands on Asteropaeus, a Trojan who is the grandson of a mortal woman and a different river, Axius.  The river Xanthus puts a fighting spirit into Asteropaeus, inspiring him to take on Achilles.  Bad move, guys.

Despite the valiant efforts of Asteropaeus, he too ends up with a sword through him.

Achilles left the corpse of Asteropaeus
lying there in the sand, dark water lapping round him.
Fish and eels then went at him, nibbling and chewing off
the fat around his kidneys.

EW!  Seriously, I feel like this is one of the gorier books.  And we’re nowhere near done.

Achilles continues his rampage, killing several of the Paeonian leaders. (Apparently Asteropaeus was their primary leader.)  The river has had just about enough; he is understandably annoyed that he is choking on blood and corpses.  So he takes on a human form and speaks to Achilles:

 “Achilles,
you may be the most powerful of men,
but you’re inflicting too much damage here.
Yes, the gods are always there to help you.
And if Cronos’ son is now enabling you
to kill all Trojans, at least drive them off
far from my stream. Carry out your work—                                    
this butchery—out there on the plain.
Now corpses fill my channels, I can’t let
my waters flow through anywhere to reach
the glimmering sea. I’m choking on the dead,                                            
while you keep up these harsh atrocities.
Come, you leader of your people, let me be.
I find your actions here astounding.”

Achilles’s response is basically: “Yeah, yeah, once I kill Hector I’ll stop.”  The river is not satisfied and he appeals to Apollo, begging him to help the Trojans.  Achilles hears this, and to say that he is not pleased is an understatement.  He leaps into the waters and attacks the river.

Now I know Achilles is furious and filled with a murderous rage, but what exactly is his endgame in attacking a river?  In a very intense and dramatic scene, it looks like Achilles is a goner:

Every time swift-footed, godlike Achilles
tried stopping to fight back, to see if all the gods                                 
who live in spacious heaven were forcing him to flee,
a tremendous wave from that heaven-fed river
would crash down around his shoulders. He’d jump clear,
heart panicking, but the river kept tugging at his legs                                       
with a strong undertow, washing out the ground
beneath his feet.

Achilles cries out to the gods for help.  In a striking display of “passing the buck”, he blames this predicament on his mother.  He’s not an idiot for attacking a river with a sword; it’s his mom’s fault for telling him he would die in battle.  He also mourns that he would rather have been killed by a great man like Hector in an honourable battle, than to be swept away by a river.

Poseidon and Athena give him some encouragement, while Hera asks Hephaestus to go and help Achilles with a “giant outburst of flames.”  He does so, and first the fire incinerates corpses (ew).  Then Hera sends a wind and the fire starts burning the river. (?) 

The River Xanthus quickly raises the white flag, and Hephaestus withdraws his fire.  But for some reason, this instigates a huge fight among the gods, who begin to take each other on.  Things are really devolving quickly.  Athena fights Ares and Aphrodite, punching Aphrodite in the chest.  Poseidon tries to fight Apollo.  But Apollo at least has some perspective:

“Earthshaker, you’d never call me prudent,
if I fought with you over human beings—
those pitiful creatures are like the leaves,
now full of blazing life, eating nourishment
the earth provides, then fading into death.                                   
No, let’s quickly end our quarrel, leaving
these mortal men to fight amongst themselves.”

Fair enough.  Meanwhile, Hera attacks Artemis.  Now I know Artemis is no Athena, but isn’t she the goddess of the hunt?  A few smacks from Hera and she runs away crying.  Girlfriend, have some pride!  She heads to Olympus and sits on her father Zeus’s lap, crying.  He asks, with a “gentle laugh”, who it is that hit her, and she tells him it was Hera. (Hera, for those who are unclear on the mythology, is NOT Artemis and Apollo’s mother.)

In the meanwhile, Apollo heads to Troy to protect it. (Once again, he is concerned that it will fall before its appointed time.)  Priam, seeing that his men are being destroyed, opens the gates of the city to allow in the retreating men.

Achilles is charging, and is on a trajectory to take Troy when Apollo intervenes.  He inspires Agenor (Antenor’s son) to challenge Achilles to single combat.  But when it looks like Agenor will die, Apollo snatches him up and hides him in a mist, leading Achilles astray.  This buys some time for many of the Trojans to get back into the city gates.  And that’s where Book 21 ends.

Reading Notes

I have a recurring nightmare about drowning, and I found the scene with Achilles in the angry river very dark and powerful.

Unless I am missing something, I do not see the reason for the gods to break out in a massive fight amongst themselves at this particular moment.  There was always tension, sort of like being on opposing sides of a sports game.  But it seems to break out here for no real reason.  Is it a literary device (comic relief?)  Or is it just to show how intense and chaotic things are becoming?

Anyway, this was definitely an intensely written book, but it felt a little like filler to me.

-Lily

The Iliad, Book 20

Summary, Book 20

As the Achaeans and the Trojans prepare to return for battle, Zeus and the other gods are watching from Mt. Olympus.  Zeus summons all of the gods to an assembly and grants them permission to intervene in the battle on whichever side they prefer.  He is afraid that Achilles is too amped up, and that he will go too far and bring about the fall of Troy before the time Fate has designated.

The gods do not need to hear this twice.  They go charging off to the battle, dividing up between the sides.  Hera and Athena side with the Achaeans, obviously, along with Poseidon, Hermes and Hephaestus.  Ares and Apollo side with the Trojans, along with Artemis, Leto, Xanthus and “laughter-loving Aphrodite”, which may be my favorite of the Homerian epithets.

Things are heating up, and Apollo goes to Aeneas in the form of one of Priam’s sons.  At least this is a somewhat rational form for him to take.  He incites Aeneas to go and confront Achilles, which seems exceptionally ill-advised.  Aeneas is properly skeptical of this advice:

No man can face Achilles in a fight—
some god is constantly beside him, saving him
and making sure his spear flies always straight,
not stopping till it’s hit some human flesh.                                                
If some god made sure our fight was equal,                                    
he’d not easily defeat me, even though
he boasted he’s completely made of bronze.”

Yet Apollo won’t let it rest.  He reminds Aeneas that he is the son of Aphrodite, while Achilles is only the son of a minor goddess.  He then breathes power into Aeneas, who takes off looking for Achilles.

When the two encounter each other, Achilles taunts Aeneas:

“Aeneas, why have you stepped forward,
standing here so far in front of all your men?
Does your heart prompt you to fight against me
in the hope you’ll win Priam’s royal honours
among horse-taming Trojans? If you kill me,                                
that won’t make Priam put his regal power
in your hands. For he has his own sons.
Besides, he’s healthy, and he is no fool…”

He also reminds Aeneas that they have clashed before, and that Aeneas only survived because he was saved by Zeus.  Aeneas decides that this would be a perfect time to launch into a genealogy.  Because, why not?  He concludes his recitation by hurling his spear at Achilles, who stops it with his magical shield.  Achilles then hurls his spear at Aeneas, and it very narrowly misses him.  Poseidon sees this narrow miss, and even though he sides with the Achaeans he does not want Aeneas killed.  He admires Aeneas, and wants him to stay alive so that the Trojans will not be entirely killed off.  “Fate ordains that he’ll escape, so the [Trojan] race will not die out and leave no seed alive.”  He settles a mist over Achilles’s eyes and while Achilles is fumbling around Poseidon carries Aeneas to safety.

When the mist leaves Achilles’s eyes, he begins his rampage.  He kills many Trojans, including Hector’s youngest brother who dies begging for his life.  Hector is enraged and heads straight for Achilles.  Achilles is not intimidated, and relishes the opportunity to fight (and kill) Hector.  Hector raises his spear to hurl it at Achilles, but Athena blows it away.  Achilles charges at him but Apollo snatches him away to safety.  Achilles lunges at him but can’t get to him.  So instead he cries out “winged words”:

“You dog—once more you’re evading death for now.
But you’ve narrowly escaped disaster.
Phoebus Apollo has saved you one more time.                                          
No doubt you always pray to him as you go                                
out into the sound of thudding spears.
Next time we meet, I’ll surely finish you,
if some god is there to assist me, too.
For now I’ll fight the others, any man
I chance to meet.”

True to his word, Achilles resumes his killing spree.  And that’s where Book 20 ends.

Reading Notes

Zeus and the other gods are obviously very big on things happening at their appointed time and not a moment sooner.  But it still seems pretty pointless that Apollo intervenes to save Hector in the moment when we know he is fated to die very soon.

It is also interesting to contrast the Ancient Greek conception of the gods with the Christian conception of God.  The Judeo-Christian God is all powerful and can make anything happen.  The Ancient Greek gods are powerful, but they are seemingly as subject to fate and destiny as the mortals are.  They can stall, they can intervene, but they cannot change ultimate outcomes.  Even Zeus.  It is fascinating, and something I would like to read more about.

-Lily

The Iliad, Book 19

Summary, Book 19

Book 19 begins with Thetis returning to Achilles.  She gently tells him that he has to move on from Patroclus’s death, and she gives him the armour that Hephaestus fashioned for him.  Achilles loves it.  But in the midst of his joy over the armour, he takes the time to worry that flies might get into Patroclus’s corpse and “breed worms in him, defile his corpse, now that the life in him is gone.  If so, all his flesh will fester.” Um… EW!  Losing a loved one is tragic, and a terrible thing to work through.  But the state of their flesh is not high on my list of things that I think about.

If I were Thetis, I would be seriously freaked out.  But she doesn’t show it.  Instead she promises that she will protect his body so that he can call an assembly of Achaean warriors and reconcile with them, Agamemnon in particular.  He does so and all of the major Achaean warriors show up, including Odysseus, Dionysus and Agamemnon.  They’re all ready to hash things out.

Achilles starts. Oh, isn’t this heartwarming:

“Son of Atreus, has it been good for us,
for you and me, to continue squabbling
in a heart-rending quarrel full of grief
for both of us, over some girl? I wish                                          
she’d been killed by Artemis’ arrow
right beside my ships, the day I got her
as my prize, after we destroyed Lyrnessus.                                                 
Fewer Achaeans would have sunk their teeth
into this wide earth at enemy hands,
if I’d not been so angry.” 

Honestly.  I don’t expect feminism from a classical text.  But for the love of Zeus… really?

Anyway, he announces the end of his anger and the Achaeans rejoice.  Agamemnon, who really should just shut up and be grateful that this painfully adolescent drama is behind him, decides that he needs to explain the root of his capriciousness in the beginning of the story.  He does so, in shockingly long-winded fashion.  To summarize, he blames Zeus, Fate and the Furies for, “[c]asting a savage blindness on [his] heart…”  He also blames Zeus’s daughter, Ate, the goddess of mischief and folly.  He takes about ten hours off the lives of the Achaeans, explaining the history of Ate and Zeus and all that, but when it is mercifully over he says that he will present Achilles with many gifts.

Achilles is pretty blasé about the gifts, saying in so many words, “Yeah, you can give me gifts or not but right now is war time, not gift time.”  He is laser focused.  Odysseus seems to see the potential for more drama so he cuts in and insists on the gifts.  He takes a group of guys to Agamemnon’s hut and they come back with lots of goodies: gold, horses, cauldrons (?) and several girls, including Briseis.  Agamemnon once again swears that he did not lay a finger on Briseis.  But it’s sort of moot.  I cannot even convey how little Achilles now cares about Briseis now, after all that sulking and moping.  He is bursting at the seams to go back into battle and avenge his friend.

Briseis, “looking like golden Aphrodite”, sees that Patroclus is dead and freaking flips out. She throws herself across his body and wails:

  “Patroclus,
you who brought the utmost joy to my sad heart,
I left you here alive, when I went off,                                           
taken from these huts. But now, at my return,
I find you dead, you, the people’s leader.
Again for me, as always, evil follows evil.                                                   
I saw the husband I was given to
by my father and my noble mother killed
by sharp bronze before our city. My brothers,
three of them, whom my own mother bore,
whom I loved, have all met their fatal day.
But when swift Achilles killed my husband,
you wouldn’t let me weep. You told me then                              
you’d make me lord Achilles’ wedded wife,
he’d take me in his ships back to Phthia,
for a marriage feast among the Myrmidons.
You were always gentle. That’s the reason
I’ll never stop this grieving for your death.”

First of all, Patroclus seems to inspire a lot of intense emotion for someone who did not have a terribly distinctive personality in the course of the Iliad.  Second, Briseis has quite a tragic history.  Third, I wonder if she was in love with Patroclus.  The three of them had quite a warped little relationship.

As a side note, the other women join in the lamentations, crying for Patroclus, “although each of them had her own private sorrow.”  I wonder what that little throwaway line refers to.  That they also have tragic pasts?  That they also had relationships with Patroclus that went deeper than just knowing who he was?  I don’t know, maybe I’m reading too much into it.

Achilles sends most of the people away, although Odysseus, Dionysus, Agamemnon, Nestor, Menelaus, and a few others stick around.  Achilles is still pretty broken up and he rants a bit more about Patroclus:

I could suffer nothing worse than this,
not even if I learned my father’s died—
he must be shedding gentle tears in Phthia,
missing a son like me, while I stay here
among strange people, fighting Trojans
over Helen, whom I detest, or if I heard
my dear son had died, who’s being raised for me
on Scyros, if, in fact, he’s still alive,
godlike Neoptolemus.

So he is more upset about this than he would be about the loss of his father or son?  (P.S., Achilles has a son?)  Also, I laughed out loud at the Helen thing.  I feel ya, Achilles.

Zeus sees all this and feels sorry for Achilles.  He sends Athena down to insert nectar and ambrosia in Achilles’s chest (?) so he won’t be hungry despite refusing to eat.  Zeus basically says to Athena: “Why are you neglecting one of your favorite warriors?” Um, maybe because you threatened to beat the crap out of any god who intervened?

The Achaean troops return to battle, and Achilles gets his armour on and talks to his horses.  (All right, it’s official.  He’s losing it):

 “Xanthus, Balius,                                       
you famous children of Podarge, this time
make sure you bring your charioteer back safely
to the Danaan army, once we’ve had enough
of battle. Don’t leave him out there slaughtered,
as you did Patroclus.”  

Frighteningly enough, the horses reply (thanks to Hera, who gives one of them the power of speech.)  They resent Achilles’s rebuke:

 “Mighty Achilles,                                
on this occasion we will bring you safely back.
But the day you’ll die is fast approaching.
We won’t be the cause, but some mighty god                                        
and a strong fate. It was not our laziness
or lack of speed which helped the Trojans
strip that armour from Patroclus’ shoulders.
A powerful god born to Leto killed him
among those fighting at the battle front,
then gave Hector glory.

I like this horse.  He has sass.  “It wasn't our fault, and we’ll bring you back again, but your clock is ticking, bro.”  Achilles is all, “Why you gotta go there?”

“Xanthus,
why do you prophesy my death? There is no need.                               
I know well enough I’m fated to die here,
far from my loving parents. No matter.
I will not stop till I have driven the Trojans
to the limit of what they can endure in war.”  

With that, Achilles lets out a war cry and charges to the front.

Reading Notes

I thought Achilles had improved, but he still sucks.  At first I found his grief over Patroclus’s death moving, and I thought it would inspire him to be a better hero.  Instead, it’s more of the same.  He is self-centered and reckless.  I mean, he was going to go into battle without eating and mocked Agamemnon for suggesting that the soldiers, you know, have some food before going into an intense, violent battle.

It’s interesting that Agamemnon taking Briseis caused the situation they are all in, and yet Achilles is never even mentioned as having glanced in her direction once she is given back.  He doesn't care about gifts, girls or glory anymore.  It’s all about vengeance.

We’ll see how this all plays out on the battlefield!

-Lily