‘servant of Fame’ – of report – in several senses: he is dependent on the tradition passed down through generations of poets, shaping, adding and refining the stories. He is also the servant of fame in being the one channel of immortality available for the heroes on both sides of the Trojan War – immortality of fame in epic song.
There is another invocation: ‘But now the man that overshined them all, Sing, muse’. Achilles’ claim to be best is borne out in the muse’s reckoning – ‘Great Ajax for strength passed all the peers of war While vex’d Achilles was away, but he surpass’d him far.’ The scene shifts to Hector at Troy, surrounded by the auxiliary leaders ‘of special excellence’, finishing with Sarpedon and Glaucus who are the major and most sympathetic characters on the Trojan side. At the very end of the list comes Amphimachus, never again mentioned, who is given a brief biography that both serves as his epitaph and his pathetic, momentary fame. He came to the battlefield dressed in the gold that marked him out to be a target and so doomed him:
The fool Amphimachus, to field, brought gold to be his wrack,
Proud-girl-like that doth ever bear her dower on her back;
Which wise Achilles mark’d, slew him, and took his gold, in strife
At Xanthus’ flood; so little Death did fear his golden life.
We suddenly remember what Achilles excels at.
Book 3
As Book 1 gave a character sketch of the main characters in the Greek camp – Achilles caring for his honour above all, Agamemnon weak and egotistical, Nestor old, respected, drawing on the past – so Book 3 introduces the telling characteristics of those on the Trojan side. Book 3 introduces the cause of the war – the beautiful Paris, who seduced Helen away from her Spartan home. He is set against his brother Hector, the brave leader of the Trojans. Hector is ever vigilant about his own honour and that of his allies – part of his job as war leader is to sting the heroic consciousness of his leaders, spurring them on. Paris, however, is one person untouched by others’ sense of him, by others’ heroic values, by his brother’s reproaches. He is unwilling to face up to Menelaus, the wronged husband, though it was his abduction of Helen (his reward for awarding Aphrodite the goddesses’ beauty prize) that started the Trojan War. Menelaus spies Paris lounging and makes for him like ‘a serpent . . . her blue neck, swoln with poison raised, and her sting out’. Paris is scared, but unrepentant. He:
Shrunk in his beauties. Which beheld by Hector, he let go
This bitter check on him: ‘Accurs’d! Made but in beauty’s scorn,
Impostor, woman’s man! O heav’n, that thou hadst ne’er been born
. . . O wretch! Not dare to stay
Weak Menelaus! But ’twas well . . .
Your harp’s sweet touch, curl’d locks, fine shape, and gifts so exquisite,
Giv’n thee by Venus, would have done your fine dames little good,
When blood and dust had ruffled them . . .
. . . thou well deserv’st
A coat of tombstone, not of steel, in which for form thou serv’st.’
To this thus Paris spake (for form that might inhabit heav’n):
‘Hector, because thy sharp reproof is out of justice giv’n,
I take it well . . .
Yet I, less practis’d than thyself in these extremes of war,
May well be pardon’d, though less bold; in these your worth exceeds,
In others, mine. Nor is my mind of less force to the deeds
Requir’d in war, because my form more flows in gifts of peace.
Reproach not therefore the kind gifts of golden Cyprides.’ [Venus]
Helen is equally beautiful, as even the old men of Troy, chattering in the sun like grasshoppers, are moved to admit:
Those wise and almost wither’d men found this heat in their years
That they were forc’d (though whispering) to say: ‘What man can blame
The Greeks and Trojans to endure for so admired a dame,
So many miseries, and so long? In her sweet countenance shine
Looks like the goddesses
There is another invocation: ‘But now the man that overshined them all, Sing, muse’. Achilles’ claim to be best is borne out in the muse’s reckoning – ‘Great Ajax for strength passed all the peers of war While vex’d Achilles was away, but he surpass’d him far.’ The scene shifts to Hector at Troy, surrounded by the auxiliary leaders ‘of special excellence’, finishing with Sarpedon and Glaucus who are the major and most sympathetic characters on the Trojan side. At the very end of the list comes Amphimachus, never again mentioned, who is given a brief biography that both serves as his epitaph and his pathetic, momentary fame. He came to the battlefield dressed in the gold that marked him out to be a target and so doomed him:
The fool Amphimachus, to field, brought gold to be his wrack,
Proud-girl-like that doth ever bear her dower on her back;
Which wise Achilles mark’d, slew him, and took his gold, in strife
At Xanthus’ flood; so little Death did fear his golden life.
We suddenly remember what Achilles excels at.
Book 3
As Book 1 gave a character sketch of the main characters in the Greek camp – Achilles caring for his honour above all, Agamemnon weak and egotistical, Nestor old, respected, drawing on the past – so Book 3 introduces the telling characteristics of those on the Trojan side. Book 3 introduces the cause of the war – the beautiful Paris, who seduced Helen away from her Spartan home. He is set against his brother Hector, the brave leader of the Trojans. Hector is ever vigilant about his own honour and that of his allies – part of his job as war leader is to sting the heroic consciousness of his leaders, spurring them on. Paris, however, is one person untouched by others’ sense of him, by others’ heroic values, by his brother’s reproaches. He is unwilling to face up to Menelaus, the wronged husband, though it was his abduction of Helen (his reward for awarding Aphrodite the goddesses’ beauty prize) that started the Trojan War. Menelaus spies Paris lounging and makes for him like ‘a serpent . . . her blue neck, swoln with poison raised, and her sting out’. Paris is scared, but unrepentant. He:
Shrunk in his beauties. Which beheld by Hector, he let go
This bitter check on him: ‘Accurs’d! Made but in beauty’s scorn,
Impostor, woman’s man! O heav’n, that thou hadst ne’er been born
. . . O wretch! Not dare to stay
Weak Menelaus! But ’twas well . . .
Your harp’s sweet touch, curl’d locks, fine shape, and gifts so exquisite,
Giv’n thee by Venus, would have done your fine dames little good,
When blood and dust had ruffled them . . .
. . . thou well deserv’st
A coat of tombstone, not of steel, in which for form thou serv’st.’
To this thus Paris spake (for form that might inhabit heav’n):
‘Hector, because thy sharp reproof is out of justice giv’n,
I take it well . . .
Yet I, less practis’d than thyself in these extremes of war,
May well be pardon’d, though less bold; in these your worth exceeds,
In others, mine. Nor is my mind of less force to the deeds
Requir’d in war, because my form more flows in gifts of peace.
Reproach not therefore the kind gifts of golden Cyprides.’ [Venus]
Helen is equally beautiful, as even the old men of Troy, chattering in the sun like grasshoppers, are moved to admit:
Those wise and almost wither’d men found this heat in their years
That they were forc’d (though whispering) to say: ‘What man can blame
The Greeks and Trojans to endure for so admired a dame,
So many miseries, and so long? In her sweet countenance shine
Looks like the goddesses
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