to my mouth and my knees are numbed beneath me: surely some evil thing is at hand against the children of Priam. Would that such word might never reach my ear! yet terribly I dread lest noble Achilles have cut off bold Hector from the city by himself and chased him to the plain and ere this ended his perilous pride that possessed him, for never would he tarry among the throng of men but ran out before them far, yielding place to no man in his hardihood.'

Thus saying she sped through the chamber like one mad, with beating heart, and with her went her handmaidens. But when she came to the battlements and the throng of men, she stood still upon the wall and gazed, and beheld him dragged before the city :-swift horses dragged him recklessly toward the hollow ships of the Achaians. Then dark night came on her eyes and shrouded her, and she fell backward and gasped forth her spirit.1

Two things will strike every reader of these passages. He will observe the art with which Homer tells the story, preparing us by hints and forebodings, making it doubtful first whether Hector will fight at all, then whether the gods will save him, and so keeping us in suspense. Note how the story of the pursuit is broken by two scenes on Olympus; this affords Homer an opportunity of describing it in such a way that the description is drawn out, giving a sense of the long chase, without becoming monotonous. Observe how he brings the scene before our eyes. For this purpose he has no minute description of the place or people; the long preambles of Scott, the precise realism of Flaubert were not his way. But the speeches and story are broken by phrases that make us see the heroes as they run or fight, and in the crises Homer throws in a few words that bring before us the scene or person-once in the race, when we see the steaming spring and the water-troughs, once just before Hector's death, when we see the helmet of the man who kills him. The poet has nothing to learn in the art of telling a story.

The other thing that will strike the reader is the savagery of Achilles, and he may wonder why a Greek poet should enlist our

1 Extracts from Il. xxii. 21-467, with omissions.

sympathies on the side of a Trojan. The answer is that here, at the very outset of their history, we have met one of the most remarkable qualities of Greek literature, to which I have already referred. More than any people, the Greeks seem to have had a power of being spectators of life, looking at it with open eyes, recording exactly what they saw, whether it suited their tastes, views, and wishes or not. They are as faithful and impartial as a mirror, which has no preferences or sympathies, or at any rate conceals them. The writer disappears from his writings. Morally this is a dangerous gift, but it enables a man to see life as it is, without prejudice, fear, or superstition, and we can prophesy that its owners will achieve the greatest things in the world of art and thought where truth is at least half the battle. Here Homer is simply telling us what happened; he shows us this primitive savage chief, on fire with grief at the death of his friend, and occupied only with the vision of revenge; he makes us feel how powerful and formidable he is-Hector's forces pale before him like a flame in the sunlight. Homer is deeply conscious of the tragedy. But he takes no side and passes no judgement; he says simply,' Thus it was.

The Iliad closes, as Greek works of art always close, with a lessening of the strain; we pass out of the fighting to private sorrow, and something like reconciliation. Priam drives across the Trojan plain and into the camp of his enemies to beg the body of Hector from Achilles. Homer's description conveys without effort the terror of that drive across No-man's-land by night, and the suspense when they meet a stranger by the river. He proves to be Hermes, and guides Priam to the tent of Achilles. There are few passages in literature more audacious and tragic in conception than the scene that follows—the meeting of Priam with the man who killed his son-and any one who wishes to test its greatness can do so by trying to write it himself, and then comparing his draft with Homer. Homer opens quietly with a description of the scene; and what follows does not achieve its effect by heroics or elaborate or passionate writing. Sorrow meets sorrow, and in the soul of Achilles pity and a delicate considerateness is born. No passage could illustrate better the high courtesy of the heroic age; and there is something more than courtesy. Yet throughout Homer gives us a sense of fires burning beneath the ashes; we are on the edge of an outbreak of ungovernable passions; and at the close Priam steals away while Achilles is sleeping.

UT Priam leapt from the car to the earth, and left Idaios

Bin

in his place; he stayed to mind the horses and mules ; but the old man made straight for the house where Achilles was wont to sit. And therein he found the man himself, and his comrades sate apart: two only, the hero Automedon and Alkimos, were busy in attendance; and he was lately ceased from eating and drinking: and still the table stood beside him. But they were unaware of great Priam as he came in, and so stood he anigh and clasped in his hands the knees of Achilles, and kissed his hands, terrible, man-slaying, that slew many of Priam's sons. And as when a grievous curse cometh upon a man who in his own country hath slain another and escapeth to a land of strangers, to the house of some rich man, and wonder possesseth them that look on him—so Achilles wondered when he saw godlike Priam, and the rest wondered likewise, and looked upon one another. Then Priam spake and entreated him, saying: ' Bethink thee, O Achilles like to gods, of thy father that is of like years with me, on the grievous pathway of old age. Him haply are the dwellers round about entreating evilly, nor is there any to ward from him ruin and bane. Nevertheless while he heareth of thee as yet alive he rejoiceth in his heart, and hopeth withal day after day that he shall see his dear son returning from Troy-land. But I, I am utterly unblest, since I begat sons the best men in wide Troy-land, but declare unto thee that none of them is left. Fifty I had, when the sons of the Achaians came. Now of the more part had impetuous Ares unstrung the knees, and he who was yet left and guarded city and men, him slewest thou but now as he fought for his country, even Hector. For his sake come I unto the ships of the Achaians that I may win him back from thee, and I bring with me untold ransom. Yea, fear thou the gods, Achilles, and have compassion on me, even me, bethinking thee of thy father. Lo, I am yet more piteous than he, and have braved what none other man on earth hath braved before, to stretch forth my hand towards the face of the slayer of my sons.'

Thus spake he, and stirred within Achilles desire to make

lament for his father. And he touched the old man's hand and gently moved him back. And as they both bethought them of their dead, so Priam for man-slaying Hector wept sore as he was fallen before Achilles' feet, and Achilles wept for his own father, and now again for Patroklos, and their moan went up throughout the house. But when noble Achilles had satisfied him with lament and the desire thereof departed from his heart and limbs, straightway he sprang from his seat and raised the old man by his hand, pitying his hoary head and hoary beard, and spake unto him winged words and said: Ah hapless! many ill things verily thou hast endured in thy heart. How durst thou come alone to the ships of the Achaians and to meet the eyes of the man who hath slain full many of thy brave sons? of iron verily is thy heart. But come then, set thee on a seat, and we will let our sorrows lie quiet in our hearts, for all our pain, for no avail cometh of chill lament. This is the lot the gods have spun for miserable men, that they should live in pain; yet themselves are sorrowless. For two urns stand upon the floor of Zeus filled, one with evil gifts, and one with blessings. To whomsoever Zeus dealeth a mingled lot, that man chanceth now upon ill and now again on good, but to whom he giveth but the bad kind him he bringeth to scorn, and evil famine chaseth him over the goodly earth, and he is a wanderer honoured neither of gods nor men. Even thus to Peleus 1 gave the gods splendid gifts from his birth, for he excelled all men in good fortune and wealth, and was king of the Myrmidons, and mortal though he was the gods gave him a goddess to be his bride. Yet even on him God brought evil, seeing that there arose to him no offspring of princely sons in his halls, save that he begat one son to an untimely death. Neither may I tend him as he groweth old, since very far from my country I am dwelling in Troy-land, to vex thee and thy children. And of thee, old sire, we have heard how of old time thou wert happy, even how of all these folk, men say, thou wert the richest in wealth and in sons, but after that the Powers of Heaven brought this bane on thee, ever are battles and

Father of Achilles.

1

man-slayings around thy city. Keep courage, and lament not unabatingly in thy heart. For nothing wilt thou avail by grieving for thy son, neither shalt thou bring him back to life.'

Then made answer unto him the old man, godlike Priam : Bid me not to a seat, O fosterling of Zeus, so long as Hector lieth uncared for at the huts, but straightway give him back that I may behold him with mine eyes; and accept thou the great ransom that we bring. So mayst thou have pleasure thereof, and come unto thy native land, since thou hast spared me from the first.'

Then fleet-footed Achilles looked sternly upon him and said: 'No longer chafe me, old sire; of myself am I minded to give Hector back to thee, for there came to me a messenger from Zeus, even my mother who bare me, daughter of the Ancient One of the Sea. And I know, O Priam, that some god it is that hath guided thee to the swift ships of the Achaians. For no mortal man, even though in prime of youth, would dare come among the host, for neither could he escape the watch, nor easily thrust back the bolt of our doors. Therefore now stir my heart no more amid my troubles, lest I leave not even thee in peace, old sire, within my hut, albeit thou art my suppliant, and lest I transgress the commandment of Zeus.'

Thus spake he, and the old man feared, and obeyed his word.

Achilles goes out to tell the attendants to wash and dress Hector's body.

Tsate

HUS spake noble Achilles, and went back into the hut, and sate him down on the cunningly wrought couch whence he had arisen by the opposite wall, and spake a word to Priam : Thy son, old sire, is given back as thou wouldst and lieth on a bier, and with the break of day thou shalt see him thyself as thou carriest him. But now bethink we us of supper. For even fairhaired Niobe bethought her of meat, she whose twelve children perished in her halls, six daughters and six lusty sons. The sons Apollo, in his anger against Niobe, slew with arrows from his silver bow, and the daughters archer Artemis, for that Niobe matched