How Troy Was Taken
The far-famed Helen, wife of King Menelaus of Sparta, was the most
beautiful woman in the world. And from her beauty and faithlessness came
the most celebrated of ancient wars, with death and disaster to numbers
of famous heroes and the final ruin of the ancient city of Troy. The
story of these striking events has been told only in poetry. We propose
to tell it again in sober prose.
But warning must first
be given that Helen and the heroes of the Trojan
war dwelt in the mist-land of legend and tradition, that cloud-realm
from which history only slowly emerged. The facts with which we are here
concerned are those of the poet, not those of the historian. It is far
from sure that Helen ever lived. It is far from sure that there ever was
a Trojan war. Many people doubt the whole story. Yet the ancient Greeks
accepted it as history, and as we are telling their story, we may fairly
include it among the historical tales of Greece. The heroes concerned
are certainly fully alive in Homer's great poem, the "Iliad," and we can
do no better than follow the story of this stirring poem, while adding
details from other sources.
Mythology tells us that, once upon a time, the three goddesses, Venus,
Juno, and Minerva, had a contest as to which was the most beautiful, and
left the decision to Paris, then a shepherd on Mount Ida, though really
the son of King Priam of Troy. The princely shepherd decided in favor of
Venus, who had promised him in reward the love of the most beautiful of
living women, the Spartan Helen, daughter of the great deity Zeus (or
Jupiter). Accordingly the handsome and favored youth set sail for
Sparta, bringing with him rich gifts for its beautiful queen. Menelaus
received his Trojan guest with much hospitality, but, unluckily, was
soon obliged to make a journey to Crete, leaving Helen to entertain the
princely visitor. The result was as Venus had foreseen. Love arose
between the handsome youth and the beautiful woman, and an elopement
followed, Paris stealing away with both the wife and the money of his
confiding host. He set sail, had a prosperous voyage, and arrived safely
at Troy with his prize on the third day. This was a fortune very
different from that of Ulysses, who on his return from Troy took ten
years to accomplish a similar voyage.
As might naturally be imagined, this elopement excited indignation not
only in the hearts of Menelaus and his brother Agamemnon, but among the
Greek chieftains generally, who sympathized with the husband in his
grief and shared his anger against Troy. War was declared against that
faithless city, and most of the chiefs pledged themselves to take part
in it, and to lend their aid until Helen was recovered or restored. Had
they known all that was before them they might have hesitated, since it
took ten long years to equip the expedition, for ten years more the war
continued, and some of the leaders spent ten years in their return. But
in those old days time does not seem to have counted for much, and
besides, many of the chieftains had been suitors for the hand of Helen,
and were doubtless moved by their old love in pledging themselves to her
recovery.
Some of them, however, were anything but eager to take part. Achilles
and Ulysses, the two most important in the subsequent war, endeavored to
escape this necessity. Achilles was the son of the sea-nymph Thetis, who
had dipped him when an infant in the river Styx, the waters of which
magic stream rendered him invulnerable to any weapon except in one
spot,--the heel by which his mother had held him. But her love for her
son made her anxious to guard him against every danger, and when the
chieftains came to seek his aid in the expedition, she concealed him,
dressed as a girl, among the maidens of the court. But the crafty
Ulysses, who accompanied them, soon exposed this trick. Disguised as a
pedler, he spread his goods, a shield and a spear among them, before the
maidens. Then an alarm of danger being sounded, the girls fled in
affright, but the disguised youth, with impulsive valor, seized the
weapons and prepared to defend himself. His identity was thus revealed.
Ulysses himself, one of the wisest and shrewdest of men, had also sought
to escape the dangerous expedition. To do so he feigned madness, and
when the messenger chiefs came to seek him they found him attempting to
plough with an ox and a horse yoked together, while he sowed the field
with salt. One of them, however, took Telemachus, the young son of
Ulysses, and laid him in the furrow before the plough. Ulysses turned
the plough aside, and thus showed that there was more method than
madness in his mind.
And thus, in time, a great force of men and a great fleet of ships were
gathered, there being in all eleven hundred and eighty-six ships and
more than one hundred thousand men. The kings and chieftains of Greece
led their followers from all parts of the land to Aulis, in Boeotia,
whence they were to set sail for the opposite coast of Asia Minor, on
which stood the city of Troy. Agamemnon, who brought one hundred ships,
was chosen leader of the army, which included all the heroes of the age,
among them the distinguished warriors Ajax and Diomedes, the wise old
Nestor, and many others of valor and fame.
The fleet at length set sail; but Troy was not easily reached. The
leaders of the army did not even know where Troy was, and landed in the
wrong locality, where they had a battle with the people. Embarking
again, they were driven by a storm back to Greece. Adverse winds now
kept them at Aulis until Agamemnon appeased the hostile gods by
sacrificing to them his daughter Iphigenia,--one of the ways which those
old heathens had of obtaining fair weather. Then the winds changed, and
the fleet made its way to the island of Tenedos, in the vicinity of
Troy. From here Ulysses and Menelaus were sent to that city as envoys to
demand a return of Helen and the stolen property.
Meanwhile the Trojans, well aware of what was in store for them, had
made abundant preparations, and gathered an army of allies from various
parts of Thrace and Asia Minor. They received the two Greek envoys
hospitably, paid them every attention, but sustained the villany of
Paris, and refused to deliver Helen and the treasure. When this word was
brought back to the fleet the chiefs decided on immediate war, and sail
was made for the neighboring shores of the Trojan realm.
Of the long-drawn-out war that followed we know little more than what
Homer has told us, though something may be learned from other ancient
poems. The first Greek to land fell by the hand of Hector, the Trojan
hero,--as the gods had foretold. But in vain the Trojans sought to
prevent the landing; they were quickly put to rout, and Cycnus, one of
their greatest warriors and son of the god Neptune, was slain by
Achilles. He was invulnerable to iron, but was choked to death by the
hero and changed into a swan. The Trojans were driven within their city
walls, and the invulnerable Achilles, with what seems a safe valor,
stormed and sacked numerous towns in the neighborhood, killed one of
King Priam's sons, captured and sold as slaves several others, drove off
the oxen of the celebrated warrior AEneas, and came near to killing that
hero himself. He also captured and kept as his own prize a beautiful
maiden named Briseis, and was even granted, through the favor of the
gods, an interview with the divine Helen herself.
This is about all we know of the doings of the first nine years of the
war. What the Greeks were at during that long time neither history nor
legend tells. The only other event of importance was the death of
Palamedes, one of the ablest Grecian chiefs. It was he who had detected
the feigned madness of Ulysses, and tradition relates that he owed his
death to the revengeful anger of that cunning schemer, who had not
forgiven him for being made to take part in this endless and useless
war.
Thus nine years of warfare passed, and Troy remained untaken and
seemingly unshaken. How the two hosts managed to live in the mean time
the tellers of the story do not say. Thucydides, the historian, thinks
it likely that the Greeks had to farm the neighboring lands for food.
How the Trojans and their allies contrived to survive so long within
their walls we are left to surmise, unless they farmed their streets.
And thus we reach the opening of the tenth year and of Homer's "Iliad."
Homer's story is too long for us to tell in detail, and too full of war
and bloodshed for modern taste. We can only give it in epitome.
Agamemnon, the leader of the Greeks, robs Achilles of his beautiful
captive Briseis, and the invulnerable hero, furious at the insult,
retires in sullen rage to his ships, forbids his troops to take part in
the war, and sulks in anger while battle after battle is fought.
Deprived of his mighty aid, the Greeks find the Trojans quite their
match, and the fortunes of the warring hosts vary day by day.
On a watch-tower in Troy sits Helen the beautiful, gazing out on the
field of conflict, and naming for old Priam, who sits beside her, the
Grecian leaders as they appear at the head of their hosts on the plain
below. On this plain meet in fierce combat Paris the abductor and
Menelaus the indignant husband. Vengeance lends double weight to the
spear of the latter, and Paris is so fiercely assailed that Venus has to
come to his aid to save him from death. Meanwhile a Trojan archer wounds
Menelaus with an arrow, and a general battle ensues.
The conflict is a fierce one, and many warriors on both sides are slain.
Diomedes, a bold Grecian chieftain, is the hero of the day. Trojans fall
by scores before his mighty spear, he rages in fury from side to side of
the field, and at length meets the great AEneas, whose thigh he breaks
with a huge stone. But AEneas is the son of the goddess Venus, who flies
to his aid and bears him from the field. The furious Greek daringly
pursues the flying divinity, and even succeeds in wounding the goddess
of love with his impious spear. At this sad outcome Venus, to whom
physical pain is a new sensation, flies in dismay to Olympus, the home
of the deities, and hides her weeping face in the lap of Father Jove,
while her lady enemies taunt her with biting sarcasms. The whole scene
is an amusing example of the childish folly of mythology.
In the next scene a new hero appears upon the field, Hector, the warlike
son of Priam, and next to Achilles the greatest warrior of the war. He
arms himself inside the walls, and takes an affectionate leave of his
wife Andromache and his infant son, the child crying with terror at his
glittering helmet and nodding plume. This mild demeanor of the warrior
changes to warlike ardor when he appears upon the field. His coming
turns the tide of battle. The victorious Greeks are driven back before
his shining spear, many of them are slain, and the whole host is driven
to its ships and almost forced to take flight by sea from the victorious
onset of Hector and his triumphant followers. While the Greeks cower in
their ships the Trojans spend the night in bivouac upon the field. Homer
gives us a picturesque description of this night-watch, which Tennyson
has thus charmingly rendered into English:
"As when in heaven the stars about the moon
Look beautiful, when all the winds are laid,
And every height comes out, and jutting peak
And valley, and the immeasurable heavens
Break open to their highest, and all the stars
Shine, and the shepherd gladdens in his heart;
So, many a fire between the ships and stream
Of Xanthus blazed before the towers of Troy,
A thousand on the plain; and close by each
Sat fifty in the blaze of burning fire;
And, champing golden grain, the horses stood
Hard by their chariots, waiting for the dawn."
Affairs had grown perilous for the Greeks. Patroclus, the bosom friend
of Achilles, begged him to come to their aid. This the sulking hero
would not do, but he lent Patroclus his armor, and permitted him to
lead his troops, the Myrmidons, to the field. Patroclus was himself a
gallant and famous warrior, and his aid turned the next day's battle
against the Trojans, who were driven back with great slaughter. But,
unfortunately for this hero of the fight, a greater than he was in the
field. Hector met him in the full tide of his success, engaged him in
battle, killed him, and captured from his body the armor of Achilles.
The slaughter of his friend at length aroused the sullen Achilles to
action. Rage against the Trojans succeeded his anger against Agamemnon.
His lost armor was replaced by new armor forged for him by Vulcan, the
celestial smith,--who fashioned him the most wonderful of shields and
most formidable of spears. Thus armed, he mounted his chariot and drove
at the head of his Myrmidons to the field, where he made such frightful
slaughter of the Trojans that the river Scamander was choked with their
corpses; and, indignant at being thus treated, sought to drown the hero
for his offence. Finally he met Hector, engaged him in battle, and
killed him with a thrust of his mighty spear. Then, fastening the corpse
of the Trojan hero to his chariot, he dragged it furiously over the
blood-soaked plain and around the city walls. Homer's story ends with
the funeral obsequies of the slain Patroclus and the burial by the
Trojans of Hector's recovered body.
Other writers tell us how the war went on. Hector was replaced by
Penthesileia, the beautiful and warlike queen of the Amazons, who came
to the aid of the Trojans, and drove the Greeks from the field. But,
alas! she too was slain by the invincible Achilles. Removing her
helmet, the victor was deeply affected to find that it was a beautiful
woman he had slain.
The mighty Memnon, son of godlike parents, now made his appearance in
the Trojan ranks, at the head of a band of black Ethiopians, with whom
he wrought havoc among the Greeks. At length Achilles encountered this
hero also, and a terrible battle ensued, whose result was long in doubt.
In the end Achilles triumphed and Memnon fell. But he died to become
immortal, for his goddess mother prayed for and obtained for him the
gift of immortal life.
Such triumphs were easy for Achilles, whose flesh no weapon could
pierce; but no one was invulnerable to the poets, and his end came at
last. He had routed the Trojans and driven them within their gates, when
Paris, aided by Apollo, the divine archer, shot an arrow at the hero
which struck him in his one pregnable spot, the heel. The fear of Thetis
was realized, her son died from the wound, and a fierce battle took
place for the possession of his body. This Ajax and Ulysses succeeded in
carrying off to the Grecian camp, where it was burned on a magnificent
funeral pile. Achilles, like his victim Memnon, was made immortal by the
favor of the gods. His armor was offered as a prize to the most
distinguished Grecian hero, and was adjudged to Ulysses, whereupon Ajax,
his close contestant for the prize, slew himself in despair.
We cannot follow all the incidents of the campaign. It will suffice to
say that Paris was himself slain by an arrow, that Neoptolemus, the son
of Achilles, took his place in the field, and that the Trojans suffered
so severely at his hands that they took shelter behind their walls,
whence they never again emerged to meet the Greeks in the field.
But Troy was safe from capture while the Palladium, a statue which
Jupiter himself had given to Dardanus, the ancestor of the Trojans,
remained in the citadel of that city. Ulysses overcame this difficulty.
He entered Troy in the disguise of a wounded and ragged fugitive, and
managed to steal the Palladium from the citadel. Then, as the walls of
Troy still defied their assailants, a further and extraordinary
stratagem was employed to gain access to the city. It seems a ridiculous
one to us, but was accepted as satisfactory by the writers of Greece.
This stratagem was the following:
A great hollow wooden horse, large enough to contain one hundred armed
men, was constructed, and in its interior the leading Grecian heroes
concealed themselves. Then the army set fire to its tents, took to its
ships, and sailed away to the island of Tenedos, as if it had abandoned
the siege. Only the great horse was left on the long-contested
battle-field.
The Trojans, filled with joy at the sight of their departing foes, came
streaming out into the plain, women as well as warriors, and gazed with
astonishment at the strange monster which their enemies had left. Many
of them wanted to take it into the city, and dedicate it to the gods as
a mark of gratitude for their deliverance. The more cautious ones
doubted if it was wise to accept an enemy's gift. Laocoon, the priest of
Neptune, struck the side of the horse with his spear. A hollow sound
came from its interior, but this did not suffice to warn the indiscreet
Trojans. And a terrible spectacle now filled them with superstitious
dread. Two great serpents appeared far out at sea and came swimming
inward over the waves. Reaching the shore, they glided over the land to
where stood the unfortunate Laocoon, whose body they encircled with
their folds. His son, who came to his rescue, was caught in the same
dreadful coils, and the two perished miserably before the eyes of their
dismayed countrymen.
There was no longer any talk of rejecting the fatal gift. The gods had
given their decision. A breach was made in the walls of Troy, and the
great horse was dragged with exultation within the stronghold that for
ten long years had defied its foe.
Riotous joy and festivity followed in Troy. It extended into the night.
While this went on Sinon, a seeming renegade who had been left behind by
the Greeks, and who had helped to deceive the Trojans by lying tales,
lighted a fire-signal for the fleet, and loosened the bolts of the
wooden horse, from whose hollow depths the hundred weary warriors
hastened to descend.
And now the triumph of the Trojans was changed to sudden woe and dire
lamentation. Death followed close upon their festivity. The hundred
warriors attacked them at their banquets, the returned fleet disgorged
its thousands, who poured through the open gates, and death held
fearful carnival within the captured city. Priam was slain at the altar
by Neoptolemus. All his sons fell in death. The city was sacked and
destroyed. Its people were slain or taken captive. Few escaped, but
among these was AEneas, the traditional ancestor of Rome. As regards
Helen, the cause of the war, she was recovered by Menelaus, and gladly
accompanied him back to Sparta. There she lived for years afterwards in
dignity and happiness, and finally died to become happily immortal in
the Elysian fields.
But our story is not yet at an end. The Greeks had still to return to
their homes, from which they had been ten years removed. And though
Paris had crossed the intervening seas in three days, it took Ulysses
ten years to return, while some of his late companions failed to reach
their homes at all. Many, indeed, were the adventures which these
home-sailing heroes were destined to encounter.
Some of the Greek warriors reached home speedily and were met with
welcome, but others perished by the way, while Agamemnon, their leader,
returned to find that his wife had been false to him, and perished by
her treacherous hand. Menelaus wandered long through Egypt, Cyprus, and
elsewhere before he reached his native land. Nestor and several others
went to Italy, where they founded cities. Diomedes also became a founder
of cities, and various others seem to have busied themselves in this
same useful occupation. Neoptolemus made his way to Epirus, where he
became king of the Molossians. AEneas, the Trojan hero, sought Carthage,
whose queen Dido died for love of him. Thence he sailed to Italy, where
he fought battles and won victories, and finally founded the city of
Rome. His story is given by Virgil, in the poem of the "AEneid." Much
more might be told of the adventures of the returning heroes, but the
chief of them all is that related of the much wandering Ulysses, as
given by Homer in his epic poem the "Odyssey."
The story of the "Odyssey" might serve us for a tale in itself, but as
it is in no sense historical we give it here in epitome.
We are told that during the wanderings of Ulysses his island kingdom of
Ithaca had been invaded by a throng of insolent suitors of his wife
Penelope, who occupied his castle and wasted his substance in riotous
living. His son Telemachus, indignant at this, set sail in search of his
father, whom he knew to be somewhere upon the seas. Landing at Sparta,
he found Menelaus living with Helen in a magnificent castle, richly
ornamented with gold, silver, and bronze, and learned from him that his
father was then in the island of Ogygia, where he had been long detained
by the nymph Calypso.
The wanderer had experienced numerous adventures. He had encountered the
one-eyed giant Polyphemus, who feasted on the fattest of the Greeks,
while the others escaped by boring out his single eye. He had passed the
land of the Lotus-Eaters, to whose magic some of the Greeks succumbed.
In the island of Circe some of his followers were turned into swine. But
the hero overcame this enchantress, and while in her land visited the
realm of the departed and had interviews with the shades of the dead.
He afterwards passed in safety through the frightful gulf of Scylla and
Charybdis, and visited the wind-god AEolus, who gave him a fair wind
home, and all the foul winds tied up in a bag. But the curious Greeks
untied the bag, and the ship was blown far from her course. His
followers afterwards killed the sacred oxen of the sun, for which they
were punished by being wrecked. All were lost except Ulysses, who
floated on a mast to the island of Calypso. With this charming nymph he
dwelt for seven years.
Finally, at the command of the gods, Calypso set her willing captive
adrift on a raft of trees. This raft was shattered in a storm, but
Ulysses swam to the island of Phaeacia, where he was rescued by Nausicaa,
the king's daughter, and brought to the palace. Thence, in a Phaeacian
ship, he finally reached Ithaca.
Here new adventures awaited him. He sought his palace disguised as an
old beggar, so that of all there, only his old dog knew him. The
faithful animal staggered to his feet, feebly expressed his joy, and
fell dead. Telemachus had now returned, and led his disguised father
into the palace, where the suitors were at their revels. Penelope,
instructed what to do, now brought forth the bow of Ulysses, and offered
her hand to any one of the suitors who could bend it. It was tried by
them all, but tried in vain. Then the seeming beggar took in his hand
the stout, ashen bow, bent it with ease, and with wonderful skill sent
an arrow hurtling through the rings of twelve axes set up in line. This
done, he turned the terrible bow upon the suitors, sending its
death-dealing arrows whizzing through their midst. Telemachus and
Eumaeus, his swine-keeper, aided him in this work of death, and a
frightful scene of carnage ensued, from which not one of the suitors
escaped with his life.
In the end the hero, freed from his ragged attire, made himself known to
his faithful wife, defeated the friends of the suitors, and recovered
his kingdom from his foes. And thus ends the final episode of the famous
tale of Troy.