Iliad \"Anger Be Now Your

Iliad

"Anger be now your song" is Robert Fitzgerald's opening translation of Homer's epic -- and it refers to Achilles' anger at Agamemnon, the leader of the Greeks, who has insulted Achilles by stealing from him his woman and spoil of war. Although Achilles' anger is not the primary focus of the narrative, it does introduce from the very beginning the theme of honor -- and it is the same theme that will close out the narrative, although a transition will be made from that of Grecian honor to that of Trojan honor. The whole of the narrative may be summed up tersely: Achilles is offended by Agamemnon, refuses to fight the Trojans any longer, whereupon the Trojans (realizing that their greatest foe is no longer a threat) attack the Greek camp and cause massive destruction; Achilles' friend Patroklus then steps out disguised as Achilles, causes the Trojans to flee in panic; but Hektor realizes the dupe and slays Patroklus, friend of Achilles -- whose anger is then turned from Agamemnon to the Trojans; Achilles does battle with Hektor, slays him, and drags his corpse from the back of his chariot, insulting the Trojans as he does so; whereupon the father of Hektor, King Priam, then humbles himself before Achilles and begs the body back so that it may receive an honorable burial. Honor is the over-arching theme -- and the sense, here, is that honor is a noble idea -- one that, if it were held by men at all times, would surely go a long way to eliminating the kind of destruction that war brings. The Iliad begins with the dishonor of Achilles and ends with the honor of his equal Hektor (following upon, of course, his dishonor at the hand of Achilles).

Homer's epic poem relies on the dramatic much more than the comedic. It reinforces human nature, not through social satire, but through empathy and sympathy -- or, in other words, through catharsis. The Iliad purges the emotions of impurities, and raises the heart and mind to a kind of meditation on nobility. When one reflects on the serenity and trust in Priam's words when he commands his people to bring wood for the funeral pyre ("No need to fear an ambush of the Argives. / When he dismissed me from the camp, Achilles / told me clearly they will not harass us, / not until dawn comes for the twelfth day") (443), one perceives that respect has been shown between Greek and Trojan -- that honor has been paid.

There is, of course, a price that comes with paying it. That price may be tallied in the loss of Troy's favorite son -- or it may be tolled in the humiliation of Priam before Achilles. Indeed, Priam's obeisance before Achilles brings the entire work into focus -- it evokes, as Aristotle judged a drama should, pity and fear: says Priam: "Achilles, / be reverent toward the great gods! And take / pity on me, remember your own father. / Think me more pitiful by far, since I / have brought myself to do what no man else / has done before -- to lift to my lips the hand / of one who killed my son" (435). Priam's supplication strikes right at the heart of the proud Achilles -- and Achilles' wrath is finally allayed: "When Achilles' heart / had known the luxury of tears, and pain / within his breast and bones had passed away, / he stood then, raised the old king up, in pity / for his grey head and greybeard cheek, and spoke / in a warm rush of words: 'Ah, sad and old!'" (435). It is the pain of human suffering and the common loss of loved ones that the two proud men now share. They are meeting, not as warriors on the battlefield, but as equals under one roof of suffering.