The Judgement of Paris

It is a curious thing how great the influence of one person can be on the course of history. Though they may not know it at the time, one person truly can make all the difference. The Trojan War, the most iconic of its kind in history, which forever bound the great civilisations of the West, and whose heroes are spoken of in awe even today, began because of one such person. But the War (whose story begins here) found its origins in the most unlikely of places...

The Marriage of Thetis and Peleus
Painting by Hendrick de Clerck

One day, far distant in the mists of time, high on the peaks of Mount Ida, there was great jubilation. It was a joyful day, for it saw the wedding of the nymph Thetis to Peleus, a marriage which held the blessings of the gods of Olympus. Great would be their progeny indeed, for one day their union would give birth to the mightiest of champions - Achilles, whose name the world would ever after speak of in reverence. Men, nymphs, gods, goddesses and all manner of magical creatures came from far and wide to celebrate, bearing a dazzling array of gifts to honour the happy day. Even Ares, lord of war, and Artemis, chaste maiden of the hunt, were to be seen in the great ensemble. All were euphoric, the skies rang to the sound of music, and not a sad face was to be seen amid the revelry. All, that was, except for one. For, skulking in the shadows, was the only being who had not received an invitation. Looking on in cold fury at her rejection, Eris, the goddess of discord, whose evil ways had ever left her shunned amid the spirits of the world, conspired to take her revenge, and bring cruel chaos down upon the scene before her now. As she circled in the shade of the trees, she cast her thoughts to how she could bring her malevolent influence to bear. Perhaps she could spread foul rumours amongst the guests? Poison the minds of the many against their gracious hosts? Openly denounce the bridal pair? There was a dark moment, when her rage waxed grave indeed, when she considered, for one brief moment, going to the very depths of the world, to the deepest part of the Underworld, and breaking asunder the Gates of Tartarus, and so releasing the Titans from their infernal bonds, to be unleashed once more upon the world. It was a fortunate thing indeed, that her fear was too great to carry out this dark deed. Instead, her thoughts turned to discord, that thing at which she was adept at spreading above all others.

Taking a Golden Apple from the Garden of the Hesperides (of the very same tree which Heracles had once ventured to, for the story, please click here), the vengeful goddess inscribed upon it "For the fairest". Never before or again would one sentence bring such ruinous calamity upon the world. Eris, proud of her stratagem, took careful aim, hurling the fruit into the midst of the dancing goddesses. All were amazed at the shining seed now before them, but none more so than three of the greatest goddesses - Hera, Queen of the gods, Athena, goddess of wisdom and war and Aphrodite, goddess of lust. From the moment they set eyes upon it, each goddess claimed the Apple for their own. As discord and argument soon spread as to who should rightfully bear the fruit, the three goddesses turned to Zeus, King of all the gods, to judge himself. Knowing well the undying wrath he would earn from the two he did not choose, the Thunderer wisely refused. To a mortal man should fall this mighty burden, the god ruled, as he thought to himself who this soul could be.

There was, not far away on the slopes of Mount Ida, a young man tending his flocks as a faithful shepherd. But this man was no ordinary shepherd. Named Paris, he was an exile of royal blood, cast out of his homeland whilst still a baby. For long ago, the boy's mother, Queen Hecuba of the royal house of Troy, had experienced a terrible nightmare. Just before her son's birth, she saw a vision that she would give birth to a flaming torch. When she awoke with a start, she confided in her husband, King Priam. Priam decided to consult an Oracle as to what this strange portent could mean. The seer Aesacus, when the royal couple retold their worries to him, was gripped with anguish. The child that the Queen would soon bear, the prophet declared, would be the ruin of Troy. The seer urged them to kill the child as soon as it was born, and save Troy from her doom. The day came, however, when Paris entered the world, and from the moment Hecuba and Priam looked upon him, they could bring no harm upon their own flesh and blood. Despairing, Priam handed the child over to Agelaus, his chief herdsmen, to take him away. The shepherd took the young Paris far from Troy's towering heights, but as a he too looked upon the baby, he found that he could not bring himself to slay a child. Vowing to raise the child as his own, he took Paris into his care, where the two lived happily, with a simple life upon the slopes of Mount Ida. It was to Paris that the goddesses of Olympus came now, forever to change his destiny, and that of the world.

The Judgement of Paris
Painting by Rubens

It was with great fear that Paris beheld the sight of Hermes, messenger of the gods, bearing down upon him on that fateful day. " Fling away thy milking-pail and leave thy fair flocks and come hither and give decision as judge of the goddesses of heaven. Come hither and decide which is the more excellent beauty of face, and to the fairer give this apple’s lovely fruit ", the swift footed god declared. Paris stood, transfixed, hardly daring to question, even less refuse the command of Olympus. In a flash of blazing glory, the three goddesses appeared suddenly before him, in all their divine majesty. One by one, the goddesses approached, Athena, lady of war and wisdom first:

          " Come hither, son of Priam! leave the spouse of Zeus and heed not Aphrodite,
            queen of the bridal bower, but praise thou Athena who aids the prowess of men.
            They say that thou art a king and keepest the city of Troy. Come hither,
            and I will make thee the saviour of their city to men hard pressed:
            lest ever Enyo of grievous wrath weigh heavily upon thee.
            Hearken to me and I will teach thee war and prowess! "

Then came Hera, regal mistress of Olympus:

         " If thou wilt elect me and bestow on me the fruit of the fairer,
           I will make thee lord of all mine Asia. Scorn thou the works of battle.
           What has a king to do with war? A prince gives command both to the valiant
           and to the unwarlike. Not always are the squires of Athena foremost.
           Swift is the doom and death of the servants of Enyo! "

Finally, there stood Aphrodite, folly of all men, who simply looked Paris in the eyes, smiling, as she began to speak:

      " Accept me and forget wars: take my beauty and leave the sceptre
         and the land of Asia. I know not the works of battle.
         What has Aphrodite to do with shields? By beauty much more do women excel.
         In place of manly prowess I will give thee a lovely bride, and, instead of kingship,
         enter thou the bed of Helen. Lacedaemon, after Troy, shall see thee a bridegroom! "

Helen
Painting by Evelyn de Morgan

Little did Paris, or the other deities assembled know, that Aphrodite wore a girdle infused with a powerful enchantment. No man which looked upon its wearer could resist base temptation. Still did the words flow from Aphrodite as the son of Priam already offered the Apple to her. Triumphant, Aphrodite raised her glittering prize, mocking her competitors mercilessly. Athena was angered, but it was nothing compared with the fury of Hera. For from this moment the House of Troy and all her descendants had made an eternal enemy of the goddess, and her curse would plague the destiny of the Trojan race. Aphrodite turned to Paris, placing her blessing upon him, declaring that he had the heart of the most beautiful woman in the world. Her name was Helen. With this promise, the goddesses departed, leaving Paris severely shaken. All he could think of now was Helen, far away in the distant lands of Greece. Unable to turn his thoughts anywhere but to her, he resolved to seek her out. Little could he know now the whole world of pain that this decision would unleash...




United Kingdom

Colluthus:
Oppian. Colluthus. Tryphiodorus (Loeb Classical Library)
(The most poetic, and best preserved form of the story)

Colluthus:
http://www.theoi.com/Text/Colluthus.html
(A sample available to read online)

United States

Colluthus:
Oppian, Colluthus, Tryphiodorus (Loeb Classical Library No. 219)
(The most poetic, and best preserved form of the story)

Colluthus:
http://www.theoi.com/Text/Colluthus.html
(A sample available to read online)

The Shield of Achilles

So long as Greece’s finest champion, the favoured Achilles, nursed his wounded pride by the proud Achaean ships, the Trojan War slipped ever close to victory for the mighty city (For background to this, click here). With Zeus the Thunderer himself favouring Priam’s sons, Hector routs battalion after battalion of the Greek armies, throwing Achaea’s finest back against the ships themselves. Not even towering Ajax, cunning Odysseus, powerful Diomedes or Menelaus of the loud war cry could face the godlike Prince of Troy. Hector even manages to set the first Achaean ship ablaze, causing Patrocles, Achilles’ cousin and greatest friend from home, to beg Achilles to allow him to fight. Achilles relents, but commands strictly that he is to return when the Trojans have been pushed back from the ships. Patroclus takes the great warrior’s armour, and leads the Myrmidons against Prince Hector, setting into motion a chain of events which will spell doom for Priam’s citadel...

Patroclus cuts a bloody swathe through the Trojan ranks aboard his great chariot, and the tide of war begins once again to swing in Achaea’s favour. Fleeing in terror before what appeared to be Achilles himself, the Trojans are thrown back to the very walls of Troy itself. Forgetting Achilles’ dire warning not to go beyond the ships, Patroclus soon finds himself faced by Hector himself. This time however, the gods are decided. It is not Hector’s time. So, at the height of his prowess, and with Greeks clamouring for Trojan blood at the walls themselves:

Achilles mourns over the body of Patroclus
Painting by Nikolaj Nikolajewitsch Ge.

“ Death cut him short. The end closed in around him.

Flying free of his limbs,

His soul went winging down to the House of Death,

Wailing his fate, leaving his manhood far behind,

His young and supple strength. ”

       - THE DEATH OF PATROCLUS

A ripple of foreboding tears through both armies. Both sides fight for the body of the young boy, and many times it changes hands. At last, Menelaus manages to bear the corpse away from the fighting, while Hector and Aeneas break the Achaean lines once more. With Greeks fleeing in terror, Menelaus desperately tells a messenger, Antilochus, to send word to Achilles of the fate of his cousin, hoping at last he will be persuaded to rejoin the fighting. With trepidation, Antilochus approaches Achilles’ tent and finds him sitting by the shore. “Patroclus has fallen! They’re fighting over his corpse! He’s stripped, naked – Hector with that flashing helmet, Hector has your arms!”. A black cloud of agony swirls over Achilles, as he lies, broken with grief and rage. He smears dirt and ashes over his fine clothes and writhes in the dust. The women wail with sorrow, as the great runner begins to weep. But then Thetis, the nymph whose son Achilles was, looked down in pity:

                        “ I am agony – mother of grief and greatness – O my child!

                          Yes, I gave birth to a flawless, mighty son...

                          The splendour of heroes, and he shot up like a young branch,

                          Like a fine tree I reared him – the orchard’s crowning glory –

                          But only to send him off in the beaked ships to Troy! ”

                                                 - THETIS BEMOANS THE FATE OF ACHILLES

Thetis pleads to him to leave the war behind, knowing in vain that it is the fate of her son to die at Troy. But her words fall on deaf ears, as Achilles cares not whether he too is to be hurled to the House of Death, so long as he first stains the lands with Hector’s blood. Resigned to the inevitable, Thetis resolves to go to Hephaestus, the god of fire and the Smith, to forge for her son a mighty new suit of armour, one worthy of a demigod, one greater by far than the gear which Hector now bears. Soaring to the Olympian heights, Thetis throws herself at the feet of the god, and pleads for help. Remembering her kindness to him in ages past, when all other gods spurned him for his lameness, Hephaestus vows to craft the mightiest apparel a god ever made for a mortal. What follows is, in my own opinion, one of the finest passages in literature, as Hephaestus forges the Shield of Achilles. Turning his bellows on the fire, crucibles burning to the god of fire’s wishes, Hephaestus takes his great hammer in one hand and with the other grips the metal with his tongs. Laying down five layers of metal, emblazoned with finely crafted emblems, Hephaestus employs all his craft and cunning as he turns to forging the vast expanse of the Shield:

Hephaestus
Painting by Rubens.

“ There he made the earth and there the sky and the sea

   And the ever burning sun and the moon rounding full

   And there the constellations, all that crown the heavens,

   The Pleiades and the Hyades, Orion in all his power too

   And the Great Bear that mankind calls the Wagon:

   She ever wheels on her axis, watching the Hunter,

   And she alone is denied a plunge in the Ocean’s baths. ”

                      - HEPHAESTUS LAYS OUT THE SHIELD

But the god does not stop there. On the shield he then forged two great cities filled with mortal men and women. There are weddings and feasts in one of these cities, and with torches brides are brought forth, marching through the streets, as the choirs sing. Young men are dancing in the street, some playing flutes and harps. The god’s hammer brings forth the people massing in the streets to see the procession. In one place, a quarrel has broken out, and two men are fighting. The crowd around them is cheering them on.



Hephaestus presents his mighty gifts to Thetis
Painting by Sir James Thornhill.



But the god does not stop there. Surrounding the other city, a divided army has set up camp, one side arguing whether to plunder the city or share the riches with the people. Within the citadel untold riches bound, and the people within do not surrender. Hephaestus’ toil carves the image of a raid, as the people hope to break the siege, with wives and children cheering them on from the towering ramparts. Ares and Athena lead them on in war, magnificent in their armour. Spying the enemy's flocks of livestock, the besieged try to take them, but the besiegers spot their ploy and ride to the rescue, and both sides hurl their spears, as Strife, Havoc and Death plunge into the field of war.

Thetis bears the magnificent gifts to Achilles
Painting by Benjamin West.

But the god does not stop there. He forges the image of a fallow field, and broad rich plowlands, as teams drive their cattle through. When they reach the boundary of the field, they pour a libation to the gods on high. It was an image forged in solid gold, “such was the wonder of Hephaestus’ work”. A king’s estate next emerges from the metal, where labourers harvest, reaping the grain as young boys pile up the scythed sheaves. The king in the centre, marvelling at the work. Next a thriving vineyard with endless grapes and climbing vines, all awaiting the hands of the workers, who place them in wicker baskets. The workers toil on, as a young boy plucks a lyre, serenading them with song. Next a herd of longhorn cattle, rumbling out of a farmyard along some rippling stream. Nine dogs accompany them, while a pair of lions seize a bull from the front ranks and drag him off in agony. The herdsman yells to his dogs, but to no avail. The crippled god of the Smith then forged a great meadow in a shaded glen, where dwell flocks of sheep and shepherd’s huts. Round the edge of the indestructible Shield, the god forged the Ocean River in its boundless power. His godly work near complete, he creates a breastplate brighter than fire, and a helmet perfectly aligned to Achilles’ temples.

Hephaestus lays the magnificent gear at the feet of Thetis, who loses no time in flashing back down to her son, bearing the most splendid gifts of the god of fire, the final act of the Siege of Troy about to begin...

As the first and arguably greatest work of poetry in the West, The Iliad deserves a place in the bookshelves of us all. The Shield of Achilles, whose description takes up Book Eighteen of The Iliad, is in my opinion one of the finest pieces of literature ever written, and is more than worth reading. The whole work is available very easily and at a low price from Amazon:

United Kingdom

Penguin Classics:
The Iliad (Penguin Classics)
(A translation which retains much of the poetic meter, my personal recommendation)

Oxford World's Classics:
The Iliad (Oxford World's Classics)
(A translation which omits some of the epithets in favour of 'easier' reading for the casual reader)

United States

Penguin Classics:
The Iliad (Penguin Classics)
(A translation which retains much of the poetic meter, my personal recommendation)

Oxford World's Classics:
The Iliad (Oxford World's Classics)
(A translation which omits some of the epithets in favour of 'easier' reading for the casual reader)