Achilles and Ajax playing a game 20 · <strong>the</strong> <strong>berkeley</strong> <strong>rep</strong> <strong>magazine</strong> · 2012–13 · ISSUE 2 The Trojan War In Homer and History by Julie mCCormiCk
much of what we know about <strong>the</strong> Trojan War comes from Homer’s epic poems surrounding <strong>the</strong> conflict: The Iliad, a snapshot of a few weeks towards <strong>the</strong> end of <strong>the</strong> war, and The Odyssey, which describes one warrior’s long journey back home. Over <strong>the</strong> millennia, <strong>the</strong> events of <strong>the</strong> Trojan War have been re-imagined countless times in poems, songs, dramatic works, visual art, novels, films, and video games. Despite its enduring place in our cultural memory, we’re not really sure whe<strong>the</strong>r or not <strong>the</strong> Trojan War actually happened. We don’t know if Homer really composed The Iliad and The Odyssey; we don’t know even know if an individual named Homer actually existed. It is entirely possible that <strong>the</strong>se epic poems originated with someone else, or are a compilation of many o<strong>the</strong>r poems that some unknown scribe recorded hundreds of years later. If Homer was indeed one person, it’s likely he lived sometime in <strong>the</strong> eighth century BC. Where exactly he lived is ano<strong>the</strong>r mystery. Homer is a Greek name, but <strong>the</strong> detailed descriptions of flora and fauna in The Iliad suggest that he was likely from a Greek-speaking colony on <strong>the</strong> Ionian Peninsula in Asia Minor (modern-day Turkey). This means that Homer could actually have lived in <strong>the</strong> landscape where <strong>the</strong> Trojan War supposedly took place. There is ano<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong>ory that Homer was a Babylonian slave brought to Greece; yet ano<strong>the</strong>r <strong>the</strong>ory posits that The Odyssey was composed by a young Sicilian woman. Though shrouded with uncertainty and troubled with millennia of scholarly debate, a (somewhat) agreed-upon understanding of <strong>the</strong> legend of <strong>the</strong> Trojan War has emerged, and goes something like this: At <strong>the</strong> wedding of Peleus and Thetis (Achilles’ parents), <strong>the</strong> goddesses Hera, A<strong>the</strong>na, and Aphrodite had a competition to see who was <strong>the</strong> most beautiful and asked Paris, <strong>the</strong> mortal prince of Troy, to be <strong>the</strong>ir judge. Each goddess offered him a reward should he choose her, but <strong>the</strong> gift from Aphrodite, <strong>the</strong> goddess of love, was too tempting to ignore: <strong>the</strong> hand of <strong>the</strong> most beautiful woman in <strong>the</strong> world. Unsurprisingly, Paris announced Aphrodite <strong>the</strong> winner, and went to claim his prize. Helen, daughter of Zeus and a mortal woman, was indeed <strong>the</strong> most beautiful woman who ever lived, but she also happened to already be married to Menelaus of Mycenae. During a visit to Menelaus’ palace, Paris and Helen stole away in <strong>the</strong> night (along with plenty of gold from <strong>the</strong> treasury) and sailed across <strong>the</strong> Aegean to Troy. Menelaus was enraged by <strong>the</strong> betrayal, and went to his bro<strong>the</strong>r Agamemnon, king of all Greece, for help. Agamemnon agreed to pursue <strong>the</strong> pair to Troy, and so tens of thousands of Greeks sailed across <strong>the</strong> Aegean to win back Helen for Menelaus. Thus began a 10-year siege that was to claim <strong>the</strong> lives of thousands of warriors and civilians. Homer’s Iliad starts near <strong>the</strong> end of <strong>the</strong> war, when <strong>the</strong> Greek hero Achilles decided to lay down his arms, and <strong>the</strong> Greeks, losing badly without <strong>the</strong>ir best warrior, tried everything to get him back on <strong>the</strong> battlefield. After <strong>the</strong> Iliad’s conclusion, <strong>the</strong> fight continued to rage fiercely on, aided and abetted by <strong>the</strong> bloodthirsty Olympian gods. Finally, heartily sick of <strong>the</strong> butchery and longing to return to a barely remembered home, <strong>the</strong> clever Odysseus of Ithaca ended <strong>the</strong> fighting once and for all with a stunning deception. The Greeks surrendered to <strong>the</strong> Trojans, and appeared to sail away. As a parting gift, <strong>the</strong>y left an enormous wooden horse, a nod to <strong>the</strong> Trojans’ famed horsemanship. The Trojans opened wide <strong>the</strong> gates to <strong>the</strong> city and dragged <strong>the</strong> horse inside, celebrating <strong>the</strong>ir victory long into <strong>the</strong> night. Unbeknownst to <strong>the</strong> Trojans, a small Greek fighting force led <strong>the</strong> by <strong>the</strong> wily Odysseus was hidden within <strong>the</strong> hollow statue. Once everyone had fallen asleep, <strong>the</strong> Greeks poured out and laid waste to <strong>the</strong> city. They looted, raped, murdered, pillaged, and kidnapped until <strong>the</strong>re was nothing and no one left, <strong>the</strong>n burned <strong>the</strong> once-beautiful Troy to <strong>the</strong> ground. After 10 years of carnage, <strong>the</strong>ir ships laden with loot and slaves and <strong>the</strong> skies black with <strong>the</strong> ashes of <strong>the</strong> dead, <strong>the</strong> Greeks sailed for home. This where The Odyssey begins. It recounts <strong>the</strong> wild and improbable adventures of Odysseus and his crew as <strong>the</strong>y desperately try to get home. Guided by his patron goddess, A<strong>the</strong>na, Odysseus battles sea monsters, sirens, <strong>the</strong> witch Circe, takes a trip through <strong>the</strong> Underworld. He spends seven years in <strong>the</strong> arms of <strong>the</strong> sea nymph Calypso before he finally sails back to Ithaca, only to discover hordes of suitors attempting to remarry his wife and take his throne. O<strong>the</strong>r sources provide details of different moments in <strong>the</strong> war, as well as offering intriguing narrative alternatives. At one time <strong>the</strong>re was an entire cycle of epic poems about <strong>the</strong> fall of Troy (not all by Homer), but <strong>the</strong>y have since been lost. In one version, for example, <strong>the</strong> story goes that Helen was not actually at Troy during <strong>the</strong> war, but ra<strong>the</strong>r in Egypt. Though many of <strong>the</strong> We have <strong>the</strong> Troy of Homer’s poetry and legend, but what about <strong>the</strong> historical place? Troy, also known as Troia, Ilion, Ilios, Ilium, and Wilusa was an ancient city in northwestern Anatolia—what is today part of Turkey. According to legend, it had been utterly destroyed during <strong>the</strong> Trojan War described in Homer’s epic poems. The Romans built a new city on top of <strong>the</strong> ruins, but that too crumbled away over time. In 1865, an English archaeologist named Frank Calvert began digging in a field near <strong>the</strong> modern city of Hisarlık, which he suspected was <strong>the</strong> site of <strong>the</strong> ancient city of Troy. He was joined a few years later by Heinrich Schliemann, a German archaeologist who took up <strong>the</strong> excavations and is largely credited with <strong>the</strong> discovery of Troy’s ruins. They found <strong>the</strong> remains of many cities, one built on top of <strong>the</strong> rubble from ano<strong>the</strong>r. The seventh layer, or Troy VII, is commonly held to be <strong>the</strong> historical equivalent of Homer’s Troy both for <strong>the</strong> timing (<strong>the</strong> city fell sometime in <strong>the</strong> 13th century BC when <strong>the</strong> events of The Iliad supposedly took place), and for <strong>the</strong> evidence of <strong>the</strong> city’s destruction by fire. details surrounding <strong>the</strong> content and composition of The Iliad remain uncertain, this mystery does not keep us from appreciating <strong>the</strong> beauty of <strong>the</strong> words, or its enduring insights into <strong>the</strong> human condition. Art comes to us from a place beyond facts, relying instead on intangible connections and deeper emotional truths. Whe<strong>the</strong>r recited aloud in ancient Greek or read silently from a glossy paperback, The Iliad continues to reach out to us across time and language. 2012–13 · ISSUE 2 · <strong>the</strong> <strong>berkeley</strong> <strong>rep</strong> <strong>magazine</strong> · 21