Of Achilles and Odysseus we have already spoken at some length, so that
we have only to notice briefly the other chief characters. At the head
of the Greek army stands Agamemnon, whose authority rests on his
personal prowess, his vast wealth, and the extent of his dominions. In
the absence of Achilles he shares with Ajax and Diomede the highest
place among the warriors of Greece. A certain strain of weakness runs
through his character. He is jealous of his authority, and somewhat
covetous, and at moments of crisis and peril he is always foremost in
the counsels of despair. Next to him in rank comes Menelaus, his
brother, an amiable but somewhat feeble prince, to whom the poet shows
a certain playful tenderness, such as is felt by chivalrous natures
towards a woman or a child.
The most knightly figure on the Greek side is the young Diomede, whose
wonderful exploits fill so large a space in the earlier part of the
poem. His gallant and buoyant spirit shines brightest when the
fortunes of the Greeks are at their lowest ebb; and the beautiful
episode of his meeting with Glaucus on the battlefield is a rare
exception to the savage ferocity of Homeric warfare.
After Achilles, the mightiest champion of Greece is the great
Telamonian Ajax. He is a giant in stature and strength, and is the
chief bulwark of the Greeks against the impetuous valour of Hector. In
character, he is modest and unassuming; he lacks the brilliant
qualities of Achilles, though equal to him in sheer physical force. He
is the type of the rugged soldier, such as we find among the Spartans
of a later date, loyal to his prince, a faithful comrade, ever at the
post of danger, ever prompt to help where the need is sorest. His
plain, frank nature views with contempt the fantastic pride of
Achilles, whose frightful egoism, and indifference to the sufferings of
his countrymen, revolt and disgust him.
[Illustration: The Leaders of the Greeks (Christian G. Heyne)]
This list may fitly be closed with the name of Nestor, "the
clear-voiced orator, from whose lips flowed eloquence sweeter than
honey." As becomes his age, he assumes the office of peacemaker
between Agamemnon and Achilles; in spite of his eighty years, he still
takes the field and fights in the van, though his arm is now of less
value than his head. With regard to his eloquence, it can hardly be
said, judging by the specimen preserved, that he is quite worthy of his
reputation. He is, in fact, garrulous, rambling, and tedious--though
in these qualities he is even surpassed by the aged Phœnix, who has
played the part of male nurse to Achilles, and excels in a style of
oratory dear to the professional guardians of childhood.
The great champion of the Trojans is Hector, the son of Priam and
Hecuba. His character is, in every respect, a contrast to that of
Achilles. With him the claims of king and country ever come first,
though he is not indifferent to personal distinction. He falls very
far short of the ideal knight--without fear and without reproach. In
these qualities he seems to be eclipsed by Glaucus and Sarpedon, the
princes of Lycia, whose beautiful friendship finds its most illustrious
record in the immortal lines of the twelfth book,[2] the finest
exposition in the world of the principle involved in the words
_noblesse oblige_. Hector, on the other hand, is full of weakness: at
one time he is faint-hearted, and has to be recalled to the duties of
his great position by the reproaches of those who serve under him; at
another time he is overbold, and his rashness brings upon the Trojans
overwhelming disaster. Yet with all this, his character is full of
interest. In his greater moments he rises to sublime heights of
heroism. He does not shrink from the consequences of his actions, but
goes to certain death with the spirit of a patriot and martyr. He is
the mirror of knightly courtesy, kind and gentle even to the guilty and
the fallen; and his last meeting with Andromache is hardly to be
matched for beauty and pathos in all literature.
[2] See p. 107.
A bare mention must suffice for Priam, the white-haired King, and the
most tragic figure in the poem; Paris, the curled darling of Aphrodite,
a mere beautiful animal, without soul or conscience, and the lovely
passion-stricken Helen, whose strange story seems to have a closer
affinity with mediæval romance than with classical antiquity.