Priam and Achilles—Hector’s Burial in Troy
It was after sundown when the assembled Achaians dispersed. Each
returned to his own ship or tent to partake of the evening meal and then
lay down to rest, well content. Only Achilles could not sleep for
thinking of his lost friend. In vain he tossed to and fro on his bed;
sweet slumber came not nigh him. Thus he mourned half the night, then
suddenly arose, ran out into the darkness, and wandered up and down the
shore, his heart full of sorrow. At last he went to Patroclus’ grave,
then hastened back to yoke his horses to the chariot, to which he bound
Hector’s corpse once more and dragged him thrice round the grave mound.
After this he drove the horses back to the enclosure and threw himself
again upon his couch.
Meanwhile the palace of old Priam had become a house of mourning. The
afflicted father had taken no food nor drink since the death of his son,
and the wailing of the wife and mother had so touched the people that
they gathered about the house in crowds. Even the gods looked down
pitifully on the unhappy family and Apollo appeared in dreams to Priam
to strengthen his heart and encourage him to enter the Greek camp and
plead for the body of his son. Jupiter commanded Hermes to accompany the
old man, so that no enemy should hinder him or do him an injury by the
way. Overjoyed at the divine vision, Priam forgot his complaints and
went at once to the chamber where stood the chests in which he kept his
treasures. He said to Hecuba, his mourning spouse: “I go to conciliate
our terrible enemy with presents, and the god who has given me courage
will protect me.”
Then the queen burst out weeping, saying reproachfully: “Unhappy man!
Hast thou lost thy senses? How canst thou go alone to the ships and meet
the man who has slain so many of thy valiant sons! Truly thy heart is
made of iron! Ah! if he set eyes upon thee and seize thee, that false
and terrible man will have neither mercy nor respect nor reverence for
thine age. Oh, do not go! Let us mourn at a distance our lost son, whom
the fates at his birth decreed should be vanquished far from his people.
Remain with us, dear one, that thou mayest preserve thine own life.”
But the old man answered confidently: “I should not go if it were only a
priest or seer who sent me, but I saw a god in my dream. He will not
deceive me and my own heart impels me to go. Dost thou say the monster
would kill me? Oh let him do so, if only he will strike me down upon the
breast of my dear son!”
He opened the chest and took out the rich garments which he intended to
take with him for a ransom—twelve splendid festal robes, twelve warm
covers, and as many tunics and magnificent cloaks. Then from another
chest he took ten talents of gold, four polished basins, and two
tripods. Even the exquisite goblet presented by the Thracians when he
visited them as ambassador from his father he did not withhold. For he
did not begrudge giving even his greatest treasure to soften the hard
heart of Achilles and ransom his beloved son.
When he had closed the box and turned around, he found himself
surrounded by a crowd of idle people, who had come up to stare at the
treasures which were to be offered for Hector’s ransom. Angrily he cried
out: “Out with you! Away, ye idlers! Have ye not trouble enough at home,
that ye come to look upon my sorrow? Only think what ye have lost in
Hector! Without his support the Achaians will have an easier victory.
Then it will be your turn to lament, but I shall doubtless then be
dead!”
He drove them out of the courtyard, then called for his sons, reproving
them. “Where are ye? Not one is at hand when I need ye! My best sons are
dead, only the good-for-nothings remain. Pack these gifts quickly in the
hampers, and when it grows dark, harness the horses and summon my old,
experienced Idæus.”
Abashed, the sons obeyed all these commands and Hecuba began to prepare
a strengthening draught for the travellers. Carrying a golden goblet in
her right hand, she came out to the chariot, and placing herself in
front of the steeds, she said to her husband: “Here, beloved, take this
and pour out a libation to Jupiter and petition him for a safe return,
as thou goest against my wishes. For I should never let thee go if I
could prevent it. And even now I would counsel thee to consult the god
and learn whether it is his will to protect thee. Should this prayer
remain unanswered then I would say, Remain. For woe to him who goes into
danger without divine support!”
The worthy man answered her: “I will obey thy behest. It is always well
to lift up our hands to Jupiter.” He spake and called upon the
stewardess for water, which she brought in a silver dish, sprinkling him
with her right hand, while with the left she held a basin beneath. After
this he received the wine cup from his spouse, poured out the first
drops in honor of Jupiter, and prayed aloud with eyes raised to the sky:
“Father Jupiter, almighty ruler, let me approach Achilles as a friend
and find favor before him. Grant me a sign that thou wilt protect me, so
that I may set out confident and comforted.” His wish was fulfilled, for
soon afterward one of the eagles which nest high up in the clefts of
Mount Ida flew past on his right hand. All who saw this rejoiced and the
king and his companion mounted the chariot, full of confidence. His sons
accompanied him to the city gates and, weeping, wished him luck.
Now the swift messenger of the gods descended from Olympus to the shores
of the Hellespont and wandered along the road which Priam was to take.
He had assumed the form of a Greek youth of noble race, whose appearance
inspired confidence. Priam had arrived at the grave of Ilus, where the
Scamander flows gently along, and there he had stopped to water his
horses. Old Idæus saw the godlike youth coming along the river bank in
the twilight and said fearfully to the king: “Look! son of Dardanus,
there cometh a strange man. He will surely kill us both and make off
with our goods. What shall we do? Shall we fly to the city or shall we
get down and embrace his knees, begging for mercy?” Priam looked up and
saw with dismay that the man was already close to the chariot. Sudden
fear paralyzed his limbs, but when he saw the youth’s face close by and
heard his friendly voice he was reassured.
“Greeting to thee, old man.” Thus the youth addressed him. “Whither
goest thou so late when all other mortals are asleep? Dost thou not fear
the Achaians, who are not far away? And neither thou, nor the old man
thy companion, are fit to defend yourselves. But I will not harm thee,
for thou art so like my dear father, noble king, that I am drawn to
thee.”
“Fortune favors me,” cried the old man. “Now I see that Jupiter is with
me, as he hath sent me such a noble guide through the dark night, of
such remarkable stature and strength and of such wisdom. Truly thou hast
fortunate parents.”
“Tell me, old man,” continued the stranger, “where art thou taking these
goods? Art trying to carry thy greatest treasures to a place of safety
before the destruction of Troy, or art thou flying secretly from the
city for fear of the victorious enemy? For indeed thou hast lost thy
chief treasure. As long as noble Hector lived, ye could battle on equal
terms with the Achaians.” This warmed the old father’s heart. “Who art
thou,” he asked, “who speakest so kindly of my poor son?”
“Who does not so?” answered the stranger. “How often I have seen him in
the stress of battle driving the Argives in droves before him. We often
stood and admired him from a distance when Achilles forbade us to join
in the battle; for I am one of his companions and came hither in the
same ship with him. My father is a noble Myrmidon called Polyctor. He
has property and money, but is an old man like thyself. I am the
youngest of seven brothers. When Achilles went to war we cast lots to
see which should go with him, and the lot fell to me. I have been
wandering about, thinking of the fate of Troy, for to-morrow the
Achaians intend to assault the city. They are weary of the long truce
and are anxious to end the war.”
“If thou art one of Achilles’ companions,” said Priam, “thou canst
doubtless tell me whether my son’s body is still lying at the ships or
whether the cruel man has already thrown it to the dogs.”
The stranger replied: “Not yet have dogs or birds of prey touched it,
although it has lain there for twelve days and Achilles drags it round
the grave of his friend every morning. Neither has decomposition touched
it, and the beautiful limbs are still preserved in remarkable freshness.
Seeing him, one would suppose he had but just died. Thus the gods watch
over him even in death, for they always loved him.”
How happy the old man was at this news. “Oh child,” he cried, “how good
it is for a man to pay honor to the gods with due offerings. My son
never forgot that. He never failed to make sacrifice before he partook
of food himself, and now in death he is receiving his reward. Oh what a
happy father I am! Here, friend, take this handsome cup in remembrance
of Priam. It was intended for Achilles, for I am going to him to ransom
my Hector. But I have enough other gifts for him. Take it and guide me
to his tent. Thou knowest the way.”
“Wilt thou tempt me, old man?” answered the stranger. “I will not yield
to it. I cannot take a gift from thee without Achilles’ knowledge and
rob him of it. No, I am too much in awe of him. Some harm might befall
me. But I will accompany thee, notwithstanding, and no plunderer shall
come nigh thee unpunished.”
With these words he swung himself on to the chariot and placed himself
between the two old men, taking the whip and reins from the herald. The
horses trotted along boldly and confidently through the fields and soon
brought the travellers to the walls of the camp. From a distance they
saw the servants busied with the remains of the evening meal, but the
god waved his staff and they all sank into a deep slumber. Then he
unbarred the gates, drove inside and in the direction of the enclosure
in which the tents and ships of the Myrmidons stood. There he took leave
of Priam and disappeared; but before he went he pointed out Achilles’
tent and encouraged the trembling old man. “Go boldly in,” said he, “and
embrace his knees. The sight of thee will certainly move him, for his
soul is filled with melancholy. Adjure him by his father and by his
divine mother, whom he loves tenderly. Thou wilt certainly touch his
heart if thou speak of her.”
Much comforted the king got down, leaving the chariots and the presents
outside in the care of his old companion. His heart beat faster as he
crossed the threshold of the tent, but after a moment of indecision he
entered. He found Achilles still sitting at the table where he had
supped. Beside him stood his two favorite companions, the excellent
driver Automedon and the skilful spearsman Alkimos. The great hero was
leaning on his elbows, sunk deep in moody thought, and was not aware of
the entrance of the old man until he had fallen at his feet, clasped his
knees, and kissed his hands—those horrible hands which had murdered so
many of his sons. Achilles was amazed, for he had been taken completely
by surprise. For a moment they gazed into each other’s faces, Achilles
puzzled and agitated, Priam imploring and anxious. At length a flood of
tears relieved the oppressed heart of the venerable man and in a
trembling voice he uttered these beseeching words:
“Remember thy father, godlike Achilles, who languishes at home, old and
helpless like myself. Ah, perhaps his neighbors are even now oppressing
him and there is none to protect him. But he knows that he has a good
and faithful son, even though far away, who will make an end of all his
troubles when he returns. The old man is full of hope and every day he
cherishes sweet thoughts of thee. But woe is me! I was the happiest of
fathers. I had raised fifty sons, nineteen of them born of one mother.
They were my pride and joy. Then ye came to invest my city and the
unhappy war took one of them after the other until but few were left.
But among them all, the best one still remained—he who had protected me
and all of us thus far; but now he also is no more. Alas, I can no
longer beg for his life, but we long to see the dead once more and pay
him the honors due my son. At home sisters, wife, and mother mourn for
him, and see, here lies his unhappy father at thy feet. Give him back to
me. I have brought thee rich gifts. Fear the gods! Bethink thee and
imagine thy old father kneeling thus to a younger man. But I suffer as
no mortal ere has done before me and press my lips to the hand which
slew my children.”
The heart of the invincible hero could not withstand these words and
tears. He was deeply moved. The picture of his own gray-haired father
rose before him and a sad longing for his embrace filled his heart. He
wept aloud and bent gently down to raise the old man up, but Priam still
clasped his knees tightly. Thus they both sobbed, each conscious of his
own fate through the sorrow of the other. At last, when they had wept
for some time, Achilles spoke. “In truth, unhappy man, thou hast been
much afflicted. And yet thou hast dared to come alone and by night to
the Achaian ships and to the man who has slain thy bravest sons. Thy
heart is certainly strong and courageous. But come, forget thy sorrow
and let me see no more of thy tears. Arise and sit here and let us calm
ourselves. The gods have decreed that miserable mankind should live in
sorrow, while they know naught of trouble. For many they have mixed the
sad lots with the happy ones, but some receive only ill fortune, so that
his whole life is a miserable failure and he is favored neither by gods
nor men. Alas! neither is my father fortunate. Although the gods have
bestowed worldly goods and power upon him, and although a goddess became
his spouse, it is ordained that there shall be no heir to his kingdom;
for alas! he shall never look upon me again, though his heart longs for
me. I am not fated to return home a peaceful ruler, to enjoy a happy old
age. Thus has fate robbed thee, also, of thy good son. But he is dead;
therefore lament no more. Thou canst not bring him back to life. Who can
do aught against the all-powerful gods?”
“Bid me not sit,” sobbed the old man. “I will lie here until thou hast
given me back my only beloved son, that my tears may fall upon him. But
take the gifts and enjoy them in peace when thou returnest to thy native
land, because thou sendest me away filled with gratitude and love.”
At these words Achilles frowned and said: “Do not agitate me further,
old man! Arise, for I have already determined to give thee back thy son.
Do not insult me with fears and mistrust!”
Silently the old man obeyed this earnest behest and rising seated
himself. Meanwhile the hero, mighty as a lion, arose and went out,
followed by his two friends. Before the tent they unyoked the horses and
conducted the herald inside. They then took the valuable gifts out of
the hamper, except two soft garments, in which they were to wrap the
body of Hector. Then, unseen by the father, Achilles caused two female
slaves to wash the body and to cleanse, arrange, and anoint the hair.
Next the servants wrapped the body in the fine robes and Achilles
himself lifted it onto the chariot and laid it on a bier prepared for
it. Then he stood still a moment and said: “Do not be angry with me,
Patroclus, if thou shouldst learn, perchance, in Hades’ dwelling, that I
have returned Hector’s body to his unhappy father. Look, he brings me a
not unworthy ransom and a share of it shall be consecrated to thee.”
He reëntered the tent and seated himself opposite his two guests. “Now
thou canst rest content, old man,” he said. “Thy son is ransomed and
lies on thy chariot wrapped in fine garments. Now let us partake of food
and comfort our hearts. Even Niobe did not forget to eat, although her
heart was torn by bitter sorrow when Artemis had slain her six blooming
daughters in one day and Apollo her six splendid sons. So let us feast.
Thou canst mourn for thy son at home, for he is doubtless worthy of thy
tears.”
With these words Achilles got up quickly, fetched a sheep and killed it.
His companions cut up the meat and roasted it carefully on spits. Then
they sat down at table, Automedon passed bread in a basket, but Achilles
himself served the meat, and they all ate and drank their fill. The old
man admired and wondered at the splendid proportions of the great hero,
his godlike mien, and his bold and fiery glance. But Achilles too was
amazed at heart when he noted the awe-inspiring, majestic demeanor and
the dignified countenance of the king and heard his words of wisdom.
When they had finished eating, Priam said: “Now, godlike host, take me
to a place, I beg thee, where we may refresh ourselves with slumber; for
I have not closed my eyes since my son sank down among the dead, and
this is the first food and drink that have passed my lips.”
Achilles commanded his comrades to prepare a couch for Priam and his
companion in the porch. The maids brought soft cushions and warm
blankets, arranged them all, and lighted the strangers out with their
torches. Achilles accompanied the king to the door and pressed his hand
at parting. A few hours’ sleep sufficed for the old man. Then he arose
to awaken Achilles, for he was anxious to start before daybreak.
“Restless old man,” said Achilles kindly, “depart then. But first tell
me something. How soon dost thou intend to bury thy son? For until then
I will keep the peace and restrain my people from battle.”
“O Achilles,” answered the old man, much moved, “if thou wilt grant us
this favor, give us nine days to mourn the dead and prepare for his
burial. On the tenth day we will burn him, on the eleventh erect the
grave mound, and on the twelfth, if it must be, we will resume the war.”
“Let this, too, be as thou desirest,” replied Achilles. “I will hold the
army in check for as long as thou hast demanded.”
He clasped the old man’s wrist to assure him of good faith, then
accompanied the chariot as far as the gate in the wall, taking care that
none of the Achaians should harm the old man. Priam drove once more
through the well-known fields, past the ford of the flowing Scamander,
where yesterday the friendly youth had appeared. And now, just as he was
watering his horses there, the sun rose. Cassandra, Priam’s favorite
daughter, who had been standing on the watch tower since dawn awaiting
the return of her father with beating heart, recognized the travellers.
She waited until she could discern all plainly, even the covered body of
her brother on the chariot. Then she ran down the stairs to the palace,
calling her mother and sisters loudly. “Only look, they are coming!
Hasten, Trojans, to look upon the body of Hector, if ye have ever
rejoiced over him alive as he returned from the battlefield. For he was
the pride of the city and of all the people!”
All who heard her voice hurried forth, men and women, all hearts filled
with boundless sorrow. But first of all came the old mother and
Andromache. They went out to meet the chariot and stopped it at the city
gate with loud cries. Mother and wife threw themselves on the body and
wet it with their tears, tore their hair, touched his head, and lifted
up the cloths to look upon his wounds. The crowd gathered, weeping,
about them. But the king cried: “Stand back and let the horses pass! Ye
may weep your fill when I have carried him into the house.”
They all stood aside and the king entered the city, the crowd following
him to the palace. When the corpse was lifted from the chariot the
universal lament began afresh. Singers were brought to chant the hymn of
mourning and round about the women sobbed, especially Andromache, the
beautiful princess. She held the dead man’s head in her hands and
moaned: “Beloved, thou hast lost thy life, but the widow, alas, is left
behind and thy young son. How shall he grow to manhood? For before that
Troy will fall, as thou art dead, who didst defend the walls, the women,
and lisping children. Soon they will be carried away to bondage, myself
among them. And thou, my dear son, wilt go hence to endure ignominy with
thy mother, if indeed some cruel Achaian entering the conquered city
does not seize thee by thy tender neck and hurl thee down from the tiles
into the streets below. Thy valiant father hath slain many Achaians;
therefore the people mourn. O Hector, what unspeakable sorrow thou hast
caused thy parents, but I am unhappy above all others! Dying, thou
couldst not give me thy hand nor speak words of wisdom which I might
have cherished.” Thus she spake, weeping, fathomless sorrow in her
heart.
The old mother also could not be torn from her beloved son. First she
caressed his head, then the cold hands, as though she hoped to call him
back to life. Helen too lamented over the dead. “Hector dearest,” she
cried, “thou didst love me more than any of my husband’s brothers. What
insults I have suffered since the hero brought me to Troy! Thou alone
hadst never an unkind word for me. Yea often, when thy mother or one of
my sisters-in-law or even their husbands heaped abuse upon me, thou
didst mollify the angry ones and make peace. How thy friendly
encouragement comforted me! Ah, I shall never hear that dear voice
again, and I have no longer a friend in this house, where all turn from
me with loathing.”
Thus she lamented, and all the women mourned with her. But the venerable
Priam now raised his commanding voice and spake. “Ye Trojans, fetch wood
into the city and go without fear that the Danæans are lying in wait for
you. For Peleus’ son promised with a sacred vow not to raise his hand
against us until the twelfth day.”
Quickly they yoked oxen and horses to the carts, and on the tenth day,
when golden Eos arose, the people all assembled for the funeral
obsequies of Hector. With loud lamentations they carried out the corpse
and laid it on the high scaffolding, which they set on fire. When the
pyre had burnt itself out, they quenched the gleaming embers with red
wine. His brothers and the comrades of the hero gathered together the
white bones out of the ashes and deposited them in a golden urn, which
was placed in the grave and gigantic blocks of stone heaped upon it. The
grave mound was raised above it and sentinels were stationed about the
place so that the Greeks should not surprise and attack them. After this
all the people returned into the city and the solemn funeral feast was
held in Priam’s palace. Thus the Trojans paid honor to the body of great
Hector.
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_Translated from the German by_
GEORGE P. UPTON
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