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 most beautiful woman in the world. 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 subject 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. Most of them
came forward, but Ulysses, who had married Penelope, and was very happy
with his wife and child, had no wish 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 gained for the undertaking, he lent his aid to bring in other
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, 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 Mycenæ, 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; Diomede, 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. He felt, from the first,
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 Andromaché, 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 Æneas and Deïphobus, Glaucus, and Sarpedon.
THE QUARREL OF THE CHIEFS
By Alfred J. Church
For nine years and more the Greeks besieged the city of Troy. Being many
in number, and having strong and valiant chiefs, they pressed the men of
the city very hard, so that these durst not go outside the walls. They
might have taken it without further loss but that there arose a deadly
strife between two of the chiefs, Agamemnon, King of Mycenæ, who was
sovereign lord of all the host; and Achilles, who was the bravest and
most valiant man therein.
The Greeks, having been away from home many years, were in great want of
many things, so it was their custom to leave a part of the army to watch
the city, and to send a part to plunder such towns in the country round
about as they knew to be friendly to the men of Troy, or as they thought
to contain good store of provision or treasure. “Are not all these,”
they were wont to say, “towns of the barbarians, and therefore lawful
prey to men that are Greeks?” Now among the towns with which they dealt
in this fashion was Chrysa, which was sacred to Apollo, who had a great
temple therein and a priest. Fearing the anger of the gods, the Greeks
had not harmed the temple or the priest; but they had carried off with
other prisoners the priest’s daughter, Chryseïs by name. These and the
rest of the spoil they divided among the kings, of whom there were many
in the army, each ruling his own people. Now King Agamemnon, as being
sovereign lord, went not with the army at such times, but stayed behind,
having charge of the siege that it should not be neglected. Yet he always
received, as was fitting, a share of the spoil. This time the Greeks
gave him, with other things, the maiden Chryseïs. Next day there came to
the camp the priest Chryses, wishing to ransom his daughter. Much gold
he brought, and he had on his head the priest’s crown, that men might
reverence him the more. He went to all the chiefs, making his prayer that
they would take the gold and give him back his daughter. They all spake
him fair, and would have done what he wished, except Agamemnon.
“Get thee out, greybeard!” he cried in great wrath. “Let me not find thee
lingering now by the ships, neither coming hither again, or it shall be
the worse for thee, for all thy priesthood. And as for thy daughter, I
shall carry her away to Argos, when I shall have taken this city of Troy.”
Then the old man went out hastily in great fear and trouble, and he
walked in his sorrow by the shore of the sounding sea, and prayed to
his god Apollo. “Hear me, god of the silver bow. If I have built thee a
temple, and offered thee the fat of many bullocks and rams, hear me, and
avenge me on these Greeks!”
And Apollo heard him. He was angry that men had so dishonored his priest,
and came down from the top of Olympus, where he dwelt. Dreadful was the
rattle of his arrows as he advanced, and his presence was as the night
coming over the sky.
He shot the arrows of death, first at the dogs and the mules, and then
at the men; and soon all along the shore rolled the black smoke from the
piles of wood on which they burnt the bodies of the dead.
On the tenth day Achilles, who was the bravest and strongest of all
the Greeks, called the people to an assembly. When they were gathered
together he stood up among them and spake to Agamemnon. “Surely it were
better to return home than that we should all perish here by the plague.
Come, let us ask some prophet, or priest, or dreamer of dreams, why it is
that Apollo is so wroth with us.”
Then stood up Calchas, best of seers, who knew what had been, and what
was, and what was to come, and spake. “Achilles, thou biddest me tell
the people why Apollo is wroth with them. Lo! I tell thee, but thou must
first swear to stand by me, for I know that what I shall say will anger
King Agamemnon, and it goes ill with common men when kings are angry.”
“Speak out, thou wise man!” cried Achilles; “for I swear by Apollo that
while I live no one shall lay hands on thee, no, not Agamemnon, though he
be sovereign lord of the Greeks.”
Then the prophet took heart and spake. “It is on behalf of his priest
that Apollo is wroth, for he came to ransom his daughter, but Agamemnon
would not let the maiden go. Now, then, ye must send her back to Chrysa
without ransom, and with her a hundred beasts for sacrifice, so that the
plague may be stayed.”
Then Agamemnon stood up in a fury, his eyes blazing like fire. “Never,”
he cried, “hast thou spoken good concerning me, ill prophet that thou
art, and now thou tellest me to give up this maiden! I will do it, for I
would not that the people should perish. Only take care, ye Greeks, that
there be a share of the spoil for me, for it would ill beseem the lord of
all the host that he alone should be without his share.”
“Nay, my lord Agamemnon,” cried Achilles, “thou art too eager for gain.
We have no treasures out of which we may make up thy loss, for what we
got out of the towns we have either sold or divided; nor would it be
fitting that the people should give back what has been given to them.
Give up the maiden, then, without conditions, and when we shall have
taken this city of Troy, we will repay thee three and four fold.”
“Nay, great Achilles,” said Agamemnon, “thou shalt not cheat me thus. If
the Greeks will give me such a share as I should have, well and good.
But if not, I will take one for myself, whether it be from thee, or from
Ajax, or from Ulysses; for my share I will have. But of this hereafter.
Now let us see that this maiden be sent back. Let them get ready a ship,
and put her therein, and with her a hundred victims, and let some chief
go with the ship, and see that all things be rightly done.”
Then cried Achilles, and his face was black as a thunder-storm, “Surely
thou art altogether shameless and greedy, and, in truth, an ill ruler
of men. No quarrel have I with the Trojans. They never harried oxen or
sheep of mine. But I have been fighting in thy cause, and that of thy
brother Menelaus. Naught carest thou for that. Thou leavest me to fight,
and sittest in thy tent at ease. But when the spoil is divided, thine is
always the lion’s share. Small indeed is my part—‘a little thing, but
dear.’ And this, forsooth, thou wilt take away! Now am I resolved to go
home. Small booty wilt thou get then, methinks!”
And King Agamemnon answered, “Go and thy Myrmidons with thee! I have
other chieftains as good as thou art, and ready, as thou art not, to pay
me due respect. I hate thee, with thy savage, bloodthirsty ways. And as
for the matter of the spoil, know that I will take thy share, the girl
Briseïs, and fetch her myself, if need be, that all may know that I am
sovereign lord here in the hosts of the Greeks.”
Then Achilles was mad with anger, and he thought in his heart, “Shall
I arise and slay this caitiff, or shall I keep down the wrath in my
breast?” And as he thought he laid his hand on his sword-hilt, and had
half drawn his sword from the scabbard, when lo! the goddess Minerva
stood behind him (for Juno who loved both this chieftain and that, had
sent her), and caught him by the long locks of his yellow hair. But
Achilles marvelled much to feel the mighty grasp, and turned, and looked,
and knew the goddess, but no one else in the assembly might see her.
Then his eyes flashed with fire, and he cried, “Art thou come, child of
Jupiter, to see the insolence of Agamemnon? Of a truth, I think that he
will perish for his folly.”
But Minerva said, “Nay, but I am come to stay thy wrath. Use bitter
words, if thou wilt, but put up thy sword in its sheath, and strike him
not. Of a truth, I tell thee that for this insolence of to-day he will
bring thee hereafter splendid gifts, threefold and fourfold for all that
he may take away.”
Then Achilles answered, “I shall abide by thy command, for it is ever
better for a man to obey the immortal gods.” And as he spake he laid his
heavy hand upon the hilt, and thrust back the sword into the scabbard,
and Minerva went her way to Olympus.
Then he turned him to King Agamemnon, and spake again. “Drunkard, with
the eyes of a dog and the heart of a deer! never fighting in the front
of the battle, nor daring to lie in the ambush! ’Tis a puny race thou
rulest, or this had been thy last wrong. And as for me, here is this
scepter: once it was the branch of a tree, but a cunning craftsman bound
it with bronze to be the sign of the lordship which Jupiter gives to
kings; as surely as it shall never again have bark or leaves or shoot, so
surely shall the Greeks one day miss Achilles, when they fall in heaps
before the dreadful Hector, and thou shalt eat thy heart to think that
thou hast wronged the bravest of thy host.”
And as he spake he dashed his scepter on the ground and sat down. And on
the other side Agamemnon sat in furious anger. Then Nestor rose, an old
man of a hundred years and more, and counselled peace. Let them listen,
he said, to his counsel. Great chiefs in the old days, with whom no man
now alive would dare to fight, had listened. Let not Agamemnon take away
from the bravest of the Greeks the prize of war; let not Achilles, though
he was mightier in battle than all other men, contend with Agamemnon, who
was sovereign lord of all the hosts of Greece. But he spake in vain. For
Agamemnon answered—“Nestor, thou speakest well, and peace is good. But
this fellow would lord it over all, and he must be taught that there is
one here, at least, who is better than he.”
And Achilles said, “I were a slave and a coward if I owned thee as my
lord. Not so: play the master over others, but think not to master me. As
for the prize which the Greeks gave me, let them do as they will. They
gave it; let them take it away. But if thou darest to touch aught that
is mine own, that hour thy life-blood shall redden on my spear.”
Then the assembly was dismissed. Chryseïs was sent to her home with due
offerings to the god, the wise Ulysses going with her. And all the people
purified themselves, and the plague was stayed.
But King Agamemnon would not go back from his purpose. So he called to
him the heralds, Talthybius and Eurybates, and said, “Heralds, go to the
tents of Achilles and fetch the maiden Briseïs. But if he will not let
her go, say that I will come myself with many others to fetch her; so
will it be the worse for him.”
Sorely against their will the heralds went. Along the seashore they
walked, till they came to the tents of Achilles. There they found him
sitting, but stood silent in awe and fear.
Achilles spied them, and cried aloud, “Come near, ye heralds, messengers
of gods and men. ’Tis no fault of yours that ye are come on such an
errand.”
Then he turned to Patroclus, his dearest friend, and said, “Bring the
maiden from her tent, and let the heralds lead her away. But let them
be witnesses, before gods and men, and before this evil-minded king,
against the day when he shall have sore need of me to save his host from
destruction. Fool that he is, who thinks not of the past nor of the
future, that his people may be safe!”
Then Patroclus brought forth the maiden from her tent and gave her to
the heralds. And they led her away, but it was sorely against her will
that she went. Achilles went apart from his comrades and sat upon the
seashore, falling into a great passion of tears, and stretching out his
hands with loud prayer to his mother, who indeed was a goddess of the
sea, Thetis by name. She heard him where she sat in the depths by her
father, the old god of the sea, and rose—you would have thought it a mist
rising—from the waves, and came to where he sat weeping, and stroked him
with her hand, and called him by his name.
“What ails thee, my son?” she said.
Then he told her the story of his wrong, and when he had ended he said—
“Go, I pray thee, to the top of Olympus, to the palace of Jupiter. Often
have I heard thee boast how, long ago, thou didst help him when the other
gods would have bound him, fetching Briareus of the hundred hands, who
sat by him, so that the gods feared to touch him. Go now and call these
things to his mind, and pray him that he help the sons of Troy and give
them victory in the battle, so that the Greeks, as they flee before them,
may have joy of this king of theirs, who has done such wrong to the
bravest of his host.”
And his mother answered him, “Surely thine is an evil lot, my son! Thy
life is short, and it should of right be without tears and full of joy;
but now it seems to me to be both short and sad. I will go as thou sayest
to Olympus, to the palace of Jupiter, but not now, for he has gone,
and the other gods with him, to a twelve days’ feast with the pious
Ethiopians. But when he comes back I will entreat and persuade him. And
do thou sit still, nor go forth to battle.”
When the twelve days were past, Thetis went to the top of Olympus, to the
palace of Jupiter and made her prayer to him. He was loath to grant it,
for he knew that it would anger his wife, Juno, who loved the Greeks and
hated the sons of Troy. Yet he could not refuse her, and promised that it
should be as she wished. And to make his word the surer, he nodded his
awful head, and with the nod all Olympus was shaken.
That night Jupiter took counsel with himself how he might best work his
will. He called to him a dream, and said, “Dream, go to the tent of
Agamemnon, and tell him to set his army in array against Troy, for the
gods are now of one mind, and the day of doom is come for the city; so he
shall take it, and gain eternal glory for himself.”
So the dream went to the tent of Agamemnon, and it took the shape of
Nestor, the old chief whom the king honored more than all beside.
Then the false Nestor spake: “Sleepest thou, Agamemnon? It is not for
kings to sleep all through the night, for they must take thought for
many, and have many cares. Listen now to the words of Jupiter: ‘Set the
battle in array against Troy, for the gods are now of one mind, and
the day of doom is come for the city, and thou shalt take it, and gain
eternal glory for thyself.”
And Agamemnon believed the dream, and knew not the purpose of Jupiter
in bidding him go forth to battle. So he rose from his bed and donned
his tunic, and over it a great cloak, fastened the sandals on his
feet, hung from his shoulders his mighty silver-studded sword, and took
in his right hand the great scepter of his house, which was the token
of his sovereignty over all the Greeks. Then he went forth, and first
took counsel with the chiefs, and afterwards called the people to the
assembly. After the assembly the shrill-voiced heralds called the host to
the battle. As is the flare of a great fire when a wood is burning on a
hill-top, so was the flash of their arms and their armor as they thronged
to the field. And as the countless flocks of wild geese or cranes or
swans now wheel and now settle in the great Asian marsh by the stream
of Cayster, or as the bees swarm in the spring, when the milk-pails are
full, so thick the Greeks thronged to the battle in the great plain by
the banks of the Scamander. Many nations were there, and many chiefs, and
the bravest and strongest of all was Ajax, son of Telamon, and the best
horses were the horses of Eumelus; but there was none that could compare
with Achilles and the horses of Achilles, bravest man and swiftest
steeds. Only Achilles sat apart, and would not go to the battle.
And on the other side the sons of Troy and their allies came forth from
the gates of the city with the most famous of their chiefs.
So the battle was set in array, and the two hosts stood over against each
other.
THE FIGHT BETWEEN PARIS AND MENELAUS
By Alfred J. Church
They were now about to fight, when from the ranks of the Trojans Paris
rushed forth. He had a panther’s skin over his shoulders, and a bow and a
sword, and in either hand a spear, and he called aloud to the Greeks that
they should send forth their bravest to fight with them.
When Menelaus saw him he was glad, for he said that now he should avenge
himself on the man who had done him such wrong. So a lion is glad when,
being sorely hungered, he finds a stag or a wild goat; he devours it, and
will not be driven from it by dogs or hunters.
He leapt from his chariot and rushed to meet his enemy; but Paris, having
done evil, and being therefore a coward in his heart, was afraid when he
saw Menelaus, and fled back into the ranks of his comrades, just as a man
steps back in haste when, unawares, he comes upon a snake. Hector saw him
and rebuked him. “Fair art thou to look upon, Paris, but nothing worth.
Surely the Greeks will scorn us if they think that thou art our bravest
warrior, because thou art of stately presence. Thou art a coward; and yet
thou daredst to go across the sea and carry off the fair Helen. Why dost
thou not stand and abide the onset of her husband, and see what manner
of man he is? Little would thy harp and thy long locks and thy fair face
avail when thou wert lying in the dust! A craven race are the sons of
Troy, or they would have stoned thee ere this.”
Then Paris answered, “Thou speakest well, Hector, and thy rebuke is just.
As for thee, thy heart is like iron, ever set on battle; yet are beauty
and love also the gifts of the gods, and not to be despised. But now set
Menelaus and me in the midst, and let us fight, man to man, for the fair
Helen and for all her possessions. And if he prevail over me, let him
take her and them and depart, and the Greeks with him, but ye shall dwell
in peace; but if I prevail they shall depart without her.”
Then Hector was glad, and going before the Trojan ranks, holding his
spear by the middle, he kept them back. The Greeks would have thrown
spears and stones at him, only Agamemnon cried aloud and said, “Hold:
Hector has somewhat to say to us.”
Then Hector said, “Hear, Trojans and Greeks, what Paris saith: Let all
besides lay their arms upon the ground, and let Menelaus and me fight for
the fair Helen and all her wealth. And let him that is the better keep
her and them, but the rest shall dwell in peace.”
Then Menelaus said, “The word pleaseth me well; let us fight together,
and let us make agreement with oath and sacrifice. And because the sons
of Priam are men of fraud and violence, let Priam himself come.”
So they sent a herald to King Priam, but he sat on the wall with the old
men. And as they talked the fair Helen came near, and they said, “What
wonder that men should suffer much for such a woman, for indeed she is
divinely fair. Yet let her depart in the ships, nor bring a curse on us
and our children.”
But Priam called to her, “Come near, my daughter; tell me about these old
friends of thine. For ’tis not thou, ’tis the gods who have brought about
all this trouble. But tell me, who is this warrior that I see, so fair
and strong? There are others even a head taller than he, but none of such
majesty.”
And Helen answered, “Ah, my father! would that I had died before I left
husband and child to follow thy son. But as for this warrior, he is
Agamemnon, a good king and brave soldier and my brother-in-law in the old
days.”
“Happy Agamemnon,” said Priam, “to rule over so many! Never saw I such an
army gathered together, not even when I went to help the Phrygians when
they were assembled on the banks of the Sangarus against the Amazons.
But who is this that I see, not so tall as Agamemnon, but of broader
shoulders? His arms lie upon the ground, and he is walking through the
ranks of his men just as some great ram walks through a flock of sheep.”
“This,” said Helen, “is Ulysses of Ithaca, who is better in craft and
counsel than all other men.”
“’Tis well spoken, lady,” said Antenor. “Well I remember Ulysses when he
came hither on an embassy about thee with the brave Menelaus. My guests
they were, and I knew them well. And I remember how, in the assembly of
the Trojans, when both were standing, Menelaus was the taller, but when
they sat, Ulysses was the more majestic to behold. And when they rose
to speak, Menelaus said few words, but said them wisely and well; and
Ulysses—you had thought him a fool, so stiffly he held his scepter and so
downcast were his eyes; but as soon as he began, oh! the mighty voice,
and the words thick as the falling snow!”
Then Priam said, “Who is that stalwart hero, so tall and strong,
overtopping all by head and shoulders?”