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.



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