Oration 11

I know well enough, I think, that it is hard to teach all men, but easy to deceive them. They learn with difficulty, if they learn anything at all, from the few who know; but they are most quickly deceived by the many who do not know, and not only by others, but even by themselves. For the truth is bitter and unpleasant to the witless, but falsehood sweet and agreeable.

Just as, I think, to those whose eyes are sick the light is painful to behold, but the darkness is harmless and dear, since it does not allow them to see. Or how could falsehood often prevail over truth, if it did not conquer through pleasure? And while teaching is hard, as I said, it is altogether harder to un-teach, especially when men have for a long time heard falsehoods, and not only have they themselves been deceived, but their fathers too and their grandfathers and nearly all the men before them.

For it is not easy to take away their opinion from such men, not even if one should utterly refute them. Just as, I think, with those who have reared supposititious children, it is hard afterward to take the children from them by telling the truth—the truth which, had anyone told them at the outset, they would never have taken the children up. And so strong is this that many rather lay claim to evils and confess them against themselves, if they have been persuaded of them beforehand, than hear good things of themselves after a time.

I should not, then, wonder if you too, men of Ilium, hold Homer more trustworthy, though he has told the most grievous falsehoods against you, than me telling the truth—and suppose him a divine and wise man, and teach your children from the very beginning his verses, which contain nothing but curses against the city, and these not even true; but cannot endure me when I tell what really was and came to pass, because I was born many years later than Homer.

And yet the many say that time is also the best judge of affairs; but whatever they hear after a long time, for this very reason they count incredible. If, then, among the Argives I dared to contradict Homer, and to show his poetry false in the greatest matters, perhaps they would reasonably be vexed at me and cast me out of the city, if I appeared to be doing away with and destroying the opinion they hold; but it is just that you should be grateful to me and listen eagerly; for I have taken pains on behalf of your ancestors.

And I forewarn you that these arguments must be spoken among others too, and that many will hear them; and of these, some will not understand, others will pretend to despise them, not despising them, and some will attempt to refute them—most of all, I think, the wretched sophists. But I know clearly that they will not be pleasing even to you. For most men are so utterly corrupted in their souls by opinion that they desire rather to be famous for the greatest misfortunes than, having no evil, to be unknown.

For I suppose the Argives themselves would not wish the affairs of Thyestes and Atreus and the sons of Pelops to have been otherwise, but would be greatly vexed if anyone should refute the tales of the tragedians, saying that Thyestes did not commit adultery with the wife of Atreus, nor did Atreus slay his brother's children nor, having cut them up, feast Thyestes, nor was Orestes the slayer of his mother with his own hand. If anyone should say all these things, they would take it ill, as though reviled.

And the same thing, I think, the Thebans too would suffer, if anyone should declare their misfortunes false—that the father Oedipus neither killed his father nor lay with his mother nor blinded himself, nor that his sons died before the wall by one another's hands, nor that the Sphinx, coming, devoured their children; but, on the contrary, they take pleasure in hearing that the Sphinx was sent upon them through the wrath of Hera, and that Laius was slain by his son, and that Oedipus, having done and suffered these things, wandered blind;

and that earlier, the children of another of their kings and the founder of the city, Amphion, having become the fairest of men, were shot down by Apollo and Artemis. And these things they endure to hear, with flutes and singing, in their theater, and set up prizes for them—whoever shall speak or play most pitifully about them; but the man who says that none of these things happened they cast out.

To such madness have the many come, and so utterly has their conceit prevailed over them. For they desire that as much talk as possible be made about themselves; but of what sort, they care nothing. In short, they do not wish to suffer terrible things, out of cowardice, fearing deaths and pains; but to be remembered as having suffered, this they make much of.

But I, neither to gratify you nor at variance with Homer, nor grudging him his glory, will try to show how many things he seems to me to have said falsely about the affairs here—refuting him not from anywhere else, but from the poetry itself, both aiding the truth and most of all for the sake of Athena, that she may not seem unjustly to have destroyed her own city, nor to have wished things contrary to her own father; and no less for the sake of Hera and Aphrodite.

For it is monstrous that she who consorted with Zeus should not think him a sufficient judge of her own beauty, unless she should please one even of the herdsmen on Ida; and that she who claimed to be the eldest of the children of Cronus should at all contend for beauty with Aphrodite,

as Homer himself reported, composing the line, 'And me crooked-counseling Cronus begot eldest'; and besides, that she should be so harshly disposed toward Paris, when she herself had entrusted the judgment to him. And yet not even of men does anyone who entrusts an arbitration count the arbitrator an enemy, if he does not give judgment in his favor; but Aphrodite gave so shameful and unjust and unprofitable a gift, and made no account either of Helen, who was her sister, or of Alexander, who had preferred her, but bestowed such a marriage as would destroy him and his parents and his city.

And besides, I think it not right to pass over the matter of Helen, who, called the daughter of Zeus, through the unjust report became infamous for her shame, but through her own power was held a goddess among the Greeks. But nevertheless, though the discourse is about such great matters, some of the sophists will say that I am impious in contradicting Homer, and will attempt to slander me before the wretched striplings, of whom I make less account than of apes.

First, then, they say that Homer, through poverty and want, begged through Greece; and such a man, they think, could not lie to gratify those who gave, nor would he say such things as were likely to be pleasing to them; whereas the beggars of today, they say, speak nothing sound, nor would anyone make any one of them a witness about anything, nor do they accept their praises as true.

For they know that they say everything fawningly, under compulsion. And then they have said that men gave to him in part as to a beggar, in part as to a madman; and they think that the men of that time rather judged him mad when he told the truth than when he lied. Not, indeed, so far as this goes, do I blame Homer; for nothing prevents a wise man from being a beggar or seeming mad; but that, according to their opinion, which they hold about Homer and such men, it is likely that nothing said by him is sound.

Nor, moreover, do they hold this—that falsehood is not in Homer's nature, nor that he approves of such a man; at any rate he has represented Odysseus, whom he most praised, lying very much, and he says that Autolycus even swears falsely, and that this was given him by Hermes. And about the gods all men, so to speak, agree that Homer says nothing true, even those who most praise him, and they try to furnish such excuses—that he did not mean these things, but spoke in riddles and metaphor.

What, then, prevents him from having spoken so about men too? For whoever about goddesses does not plainly tell the truth, but the contrary, so that those who read suppose rather the false things, and that being benefited in no way, how would he hesitate to tell any falsehood whatever about men? And that he has represented the gods grieving and groaning and being wounded and well-nigh dying, and besides adulteries and bonds and the giving of sureties among the gods, I do not say, since these things have been said before by many. For I do not wish to accuse Homer, but only to show the truth as it was; since indeed I shall also defend him in what seems good to me.

But that he did not hesitate at falsehood above all things, nor count it shameful, this I say; but whether rightly or not I leave for now to consider. Setting aside, then, all that he seems to have said terribly and unfittingly about the gods, this much only I say, that he did not hesitate to report words of the gods, which he says they spoke to one another—and not only those that were spoken in common and with all the gods present, but even those which some converse privately with one another,

such as Zeus, enraged at Hera for the deceit and the defeat of the Trojans, and earlier Hera to Aphrodite, urging her to drug her father and to give her the love-charm, the embroidered girdle—as is likely, asking this in secret. For it is not likely that any other of men should know such things, when a man and wife are at variance and sometimes reviling one another. And he has represented Odysseus correcting this very thing, lest he seem a braggart in relating the words spoken about him among the gods. For he said he had heard from Calypso, and she had learned it from someone; but about himself he said nothing such, that he had learned it from any god.

So utterly did he despise men, and cared nothing whether he should seem to say nothing true. For he did not think he would persuade anyone that he knew the words spoken among the gods about himself. For he said he had heard all things, and persuaded the many. And he relates the union of Zeus with Hera that took place on Ida, and the words he spoke before the union, as one who had himself seen and heard them; and nothing prevented him, it seems, the cloud which Zeus spread to keep himself from being seen.

And to these things he set the crowning touch, so to speak. For lest we should be at a loss how he understood the gods, he converses with us nearly as one experienced in the gods' language, and as though it were not the same as ours, nor do they say the same names for each thing that we do. And he shows this in the case of a certain bird, which he says the gods call chalcis but men cymindis, and in the case of a certain place before the city, which men name Batieia, but the gods the Tomb of Myrine. So he has set the limit; for just as those called bilingual converse with the barbarians and interpret to them what comes from us, so Homer converses with us, interpreting what comes from the gods, as one understanding the divine speech: first, that it is not the same as ours, nor are the names the same with us and with them; and then, expounding about certain things, how the gods name them—for instance, that the chalcis the gods call cymindis, and a certain place before the city, named Batieia, the Tomb of Myrine.

And having told us about the river, that it is called not Scamander but Xanthus among the gods, he himself thereupon so names it in his verses, as though it were permitted him not only to mix in the other Greek dialects, and now to speak in Aeolic, now in Doric, now in Ionic, but even to converse in the divine tongue. And this I have said, as I said, not for the sake of accusation, but because Homer was the boldest of men toward falsehood, and was no less confident and proud at lying than at telling the truth. And having said the moly as the gods call it, he no longer adds the name among men; and having said of the river that it is named not Scamander but Xanthus among them, he thereupon so uses it in his verses, as though it were permitted him, not only to mix in the speech of the Greeks, nor only the very ancient words, but even to use the divine names, and now speaking Aeolic, now Doric, and again Ionic to converse, just as, I think, one speaking Thessalian or Cretan, as he called the agora a 'harbor,' having heard it from the Thessalians.

For thus, when one examines, the things I say he lied about appear very small and worth little. For in truth they are human falsehoods, and exceedingly plausible, compared with his divine and impossible inventions. And this I have said, as I said already, not for accusation, but because Homer was the boldest of men toward falsehood, and was no less confident and proud at lying than at telling the truth. For thus, when one examines, nothing any longer appears paradoxical or incredible of the things shown by me, but small and human falsehoods compared with divine and great ones. For having undertaken to tell the war that the Achaeans waged against the Trojans, he did not begin at once from the beginning, but from wherever it chanced—which nearly all liars do, weaving in and entangling and wishing to say nothing in order; for so they are less detected; otherwise they are convicted by the very matter.

And this one may see happening also in the courts and among others who lie with art. But those who wish to show what happened, as each thing came about, so report it—the first thing first, and the second second, and the rest in order likewise. This, then, is one cause of his not beginning the poem according to nature; and another, that he most of all plotted to do away with its beginning and its end, and to make the opposite opinion prevail about them.

Whence he dared to tell neither the beginning nor the end straightforwardly, nor did he promise to say anything about these, but if anywhere he mentions them, it is incidentally and briefly, and he is plainly throwing them into confusion; for he was not confident toward them nor able to speak of them readily. And this too happens to liars for the most part—to say certain other things of the matter and dwell on them, but what they most wish to hide they do not set forth, nor with the hearer attentive, nor placing it in its own place, but so as best to escape notice; and on this account, and because the falsehood makes one ashamed and shrink from approaching it, especially when it concerns the greatest matters.

Whence liars do not even speak loudly with their voice when they come to this; some of them stammer and speak indistinctly; and some say it not as knowing it themselves, but as having heard from others. But whoever says something true says it confidently and shrinking from nothing. So neither has Homer told the matter of the rape of Helen straightforwardly, nor speaking freely about it, nor the matter of the capture of the city. For indeed, as I said, though most bold, he bowed beneath and was vanquished, because he knew he was saying things contrary to the facts and lying about the very head of the matter.

Or whence was it more fitting to begin than from the very wrong and insolence of Alexander, on account of which the war arose?—since all who read the poetry would have been moved to anger together and would have shared in the eagerness for the end, and no one would have pitied the Trojans for what they suffered; for thus he was likely to have the hearer better disposed and more eager.

But if, again, he wished to tell the greatest and most fearful things, and sufferings of all kinds and calamities, and besides what everyone above all longed to hear—what greater or more terrible thing had he to tell than the capture? Neither more men dying, nor more pitifully, some fleeing to the altars of the gods, others defending their children and wives; nor women or maidens, once queens, led off into slavery and shame, torn some from husbands, some from fathers, some from brothers, and some of them from the very statues, beholding their dearest husbands lying in slaughter and unable to embrace them or close their eyes, and beholding their infant babes cruelly dashed against the ground;

nor temples of the gods sacked, nor a multitude of treasures plundered, nor the whole city burned from top to bottom, nor a louder cry or clash of bronze and fire of the things being destroyed and the things hurled down—which he has represented Priam saying briefly, as things to be, things which he might have related as happening, as he wished and with all the dread he was wont to use elsewhere, dismaying and magnifying the smallest things.

And if he wished to tell the death of distinguished men, how did he leave out that of Achilles and of Memnon and Antilochus and Ajax and Alexander himself? And how the expedition of the Amazons and that famous battle said to have taken place between Achilles and the Amazon, so fair and so marvelous?

when he has represented the river fighting him for the sake of telling something wonderful, and besides the battle of Hephaestus and Scamander and of the other gods with one another, routs and defeats and woundings, desiring to say something great and wonderful, for want of matter, while so many and so great things were left out.

From these things, then, one must necessarily agree either that Homer was foolish and a poor judge of affairs, so as to choose the lesser and meaner things, leaving to others the greatest and most serious; or that he could not, as I said, make the falsehoods strong, nor in these things display in his poetry, as he wished, how the things he wished to hide came about.

For so too in the Odyssey he himself tells the affairs about Ithaca and the death of the suitors, but he did not endure to tell the greatest of his falsehoods—those about Scylla and the Cyclops and the drugs of Circe, and besides the descent of Odysseus into Hades—but he made Odysseus relate them to the company of Alcinous; and there too he made Demodocus go through the matter of the horse and the capture of Troy in song, in a few verses.

And it seems to me that he did not even set out to tell these things at the beginning, since they did not happen; but as the poem advanced, when he saw that men readily believed everything, despising them and at the same time gratifying the Greeks and the Atreidae, he confounded everything and reversed the facts into their opposite. He says at the beginning, 'Sing, goddess, the wrath of Achilles son of Peleus, the ruinous wrath that brought countless woes upon the Achaeans, and sent forth to Hades many valiant souls of heroes, and made themselves spoil for dogs and for all the birds; and the will of Zeus was being accomplished.'

Here he says he will tell only of the wrath of Achilles and the calamities and destruction of the Achaeans—that they suffered many and terrible things and many perished and remained unburied, as though these were the greatest of what happened and worthy of the poem; and the will of Zeus, he says, was accomplished in these things, as indeed came to pass. But the later change of affairs and the death of Hector, which he meant to make a favor, he does not appear to lay down beforehand, nor that Ilium was later taken; for perhaps he had not yet resolved to reverse everything.

Then, wishing to tell the cause of the evils, he lets go Alexander and Helen and babbles about Chryses and his daughter. I, then, as I learned from one of the priests in Egypt, a very old man at Onuphis, who laughed at the Greeks for many things as knowing nothing true about most matters, and most of all using this as proof, that they are persuaded that Troy was taken by Agamemnon and that Helen, while living with Menelaus, fell in love with Alexander; and they are so utterly persuaded of these things, deceived by one man, that each even swears to it.

And he said that all the earlier history was written down among them, partly in the temples, partly on certain steles, but some things are remembered only by a few, the steles having been destroyed, and much of what was written on the steles is unknown through the ignorance and carelessness of those who came after; and that these things about Troy are among the most recent; for Menelaus came to them and related everything as it happened.

And when I asked him to relate it, at first he would not, saying that the Greeks are braggarts, and being most ignorant think themselves most learned; and that there is no disease harder than this, for one man or for many, than when an ignorant man thinks himself wisest. For such men can never be freed from their ignorance.

"And you," he said, "are so ridiculously disposed because of these things that you say a poet who was persuaded by Homer and composed everything the same about Helen, Stesichorus, I think, was blinded by Helen, as having lied, and again recovered his sight when he had composed the contrary.

And saying these things you nonetheless say that Homer's poetry is true, and hearing that Stesichorus in his later song says that Helen did not sail anywhere at all, and others that Helen was seized by Alexander but came here to us in Egypt—and the matter being thus disputed and full of much ignorance, not even so can you suspect the deception.

And the cause of this," he said, "is that the Greeks are fond of listening; and whatever they hear someone telling pleasantly, this they hold to be true, and they permit the poets to lie whatever they wish and say it is allowed them; yet nonetheless they believe what those tell, and sometimes bring them as witnesses about things they dispute. But among the Egyptians it is not permitted to say anything in meter, nor is there poetry at all; for they know that it is a drug of pleasure for the hearing. As, then, the thirsty have no need of wine, but it is enough for them to drink water, so those who wish to know the truth have no need of meters, but it suffices them simply to hear.

But poetry persuades men to hear falsehoods, as wine to drink to no purpose." As, then, I heard from him, I shall try to tell, adding the things from which it seemed to me that what was said was true. For he said that in Sparta there was Tyndareus, a wise man and a great king, and that he had of Leda two daughters, by the same names that we use, Clytemnestra and Helen, and two male children, twins, fair and great and far the best of the Greeks.

And that Helen was famous for beauty, and that many suitors of her arose while she was still a small child, and a rape of her by Theseus, who was king of Athens. So the brothers of Helen went at once to the country of Theseus and sacked the city and recovered their sister. And the other women they let go, having taken them; but the mother of Theseus they led off captive, taking vengeance on him; for they were a match for all Greece, and would easily have subdued it, had they wished.

So I said that among us too these things are told, and besides that I myself had seen at Olympia, in the back chamber of the temple of Hera, a memorial of that rape, in the wooden chest dedicated by Cypselus—the Dioscuri having Helen, who stands upon the head of Aethra and drags her by the hair, and an inscription written in ancient letters.

And after these things, he said, Agamemnon, fearing the sons of Tyndareus—for he knew that, being a stranger and an immigrant, he ruled the Argives—wished to win them over by an alliance of marriage, and on this account married Clytemnestra; and Helen he sought to betroth to his brother, but none of the Greeks said he would yield her, for each thought himself more akin to her than Menelaus, who was a son of Pelops. And from outside too many suitors came, both because of the fame about her beauty and the power of the brothers and the father.

So it seemed to me that he said this truly, since they say that the daughter of Cleisthenes the tyrant of Sicyon was wooed even by one from Italy; and besides, Pelops married Hippodameia the daughter of Oenomaus, coming from Asia, and Theseus one of the Amazons from the river Thermodon;

and, as he said, Io too came to Egypt, given in marriage—not become a cow and so coming, driven mad by the gadfly. And such being the custom—to give and take wives from one another, and those farthest off from the most renowned—Alexander too came for a wooing, he said, trusting in the power of his father, who well-nigh ruled all Asia, and Troy being not far off, especially as the sons of Pelops were now in power in Greece and much intercourse had arisen.

And coming with much wealth and equipment as for a wooing, and excelling in beauty, he entered into conversation with Tyndareus and the brothers of Helen, speaking of the empire of Priam and the multitude of treasures and the rest of his power, and that the kingdom would be his; and that Menelaus was a private man, for the kingdom belonged to the sons of Agamemnon, not to him; and that he was beloved of the gods, and that Aphrodite had promised him the best marriage among men; he himself, then, preferred that man's daughter, though it was in his power to take one from Asia, if he wished, either of the king of the Egyptians or of the Indians.

For he said that he himself ruled all the rest, beginning from Troy as far as Ethiopia; for his own cousin Memnon was king of the Ethiopians, being son of Tithonus the brother of Priam. And he said many other alluring things, and gave gifts to Leda and the other relatives, such as not all the Greeks together could give. And he said that he too was a kinsman of Helen; for Priam was descended from Zeus; and he learned that they too and their sister were of Zeus. And it did not befit Agamemnon and Menelaus to reproach him with his country; for they too were Phrygians from Sipylus. Far better, then, for the kings of Asia to make marriage-alliance than for the immigrants from there. For indeed Laomedon gave his own daughter Hesione to Telamon; for he came to Troy as a suitor with Heracles, and Laomedon brought Heracles too, being his friend and guest.

Concerning these things, then, Tyndareus took counsel with his sons. And considering, it seemed to them not the worse to win over the kings from Asia. For the house of the sons of Pelops they held through Clytemnestra living with Agamemnon; and it remained, if they should ally with Priam, to be masters of the affairs there too, and no one to prevent them from ruling all Asia and Europe. Against this Agamemnon strove, but was beaten by the just arguments.

For Tyndareus said it was enough for him to be allied by marriage with him; and at the same time he showed that it was not even advantageous for his brother to obtain Helen; for so he would the more plot against him; for neither did Thyestes become well-disposed to Atreus. And most of all he persuaded him, saying that the other suitors of the Greeks would not endure to fail, neither Diomedes nor Antilochus nor Achilles, but would make war; and that he would risk making the most powerful of the Greeks his enemies.

It was better, then, not to leave a beginning of war and faction among the Greeks. And Agamemnon was vexed, but had no way to prevent Tyndareus; for he was master of his own daughter; and at the same time he feared his sons. And so Alexander took Helen justly, having persuaded her parents and her brothers, and came bringing her with much zeal and joy; and Priam and Hector and all the rest rejoiced at the marriage, and received Helen with sacrifices and prayers.

"But consider," he said, "the simplicity of the opposite story, whether it seems to you possible that, first, a man should fall in love with a woman whom he had never seen; and then should persuade her, leaving her husband and her country and all her kin, and besides, I think, having become the mother of a little daughter, to follow a man of another race. For on account of this absurdity they fabricated the myth about Aphrodite, far more senseless than these things.

But if Alexander had considered it, how did the father permit it, being not witless but even greatly thought to have sense, and the mother? And how is it likely that Hector should later reproach and revile him about the rape, as Homer says—for he speaks thus: 'Evil Paris, fairest in form, woman-mad, beguiler, would that you had never been born and had died unwed. For your harp will not avail you, nor the gifts of Aphrodite, your hair and your beauty, when you are laid in the dust'—

and yet from the beginning, while he was doing these things, should have consented to them? And how did Helenus, being a seer, not foretell it, and Cassandra in her divine possession, and besides Antenor who seemed to be prudent—but they were indignant afterward and reproached him for what was done, when it was in their power to prevent it from the hearth? And that you may know the excess of their folly, and how the falsehoods fight one another: for they say that a few years before, Heracles had sacked the city on a small pretext, angered about horses, because Laomedon, having promised to give them to him, broke faith.

And I recalled the verses in which he says this: 'Who once, coming hither for the horses of Laomedon, with but six ships and fewer men, sacked the city of Ilium and made desolate her streets.' "Not even this," he said, "do they tell truly. For how, in a short time, did a city so taken and made desolate gain such increase as to become the greatest in Asia? And how did Heracles with six ships take it when long unsacked, but the Achaeans, coming with twelve hundred ships, could not take it? Or how did Heracles let Priam reign, having killed his father as the most hateful of all, but did not appoint some other ruler of the country?

But if it were as they say, how did the Trojans and Priam not shudder at the enmity with the Greeks, knowing that earlier, having done no such great wrong, they perished and were laid waste, and many remembering the capture, did not consider any of these things nor any of them prevent Alexander? And in what way, having come to Greece, did he consort with Helen and converse and at last persuade her to flee, caring neither for parents nor country nor husband nor daughter nor for the fame among the Greeks, but not even fearing her brothers who were alive, who had earlier taken her from Theseus and did not suffer her to be carried off?

For one thing, how did this escape the notice of Menelaus, who was present? And for another, how is it likely that a wife, in her husband's absence, should come into the company of a stranger? And that none of the others should perceive the plot, or, perceiving it, should hide it; and besides that Aethra, the mother of Theseus, should set sail with her, being a captive?—for it was not enough that, being daughter of Pittheus, she should be a slave in Sparta, but she chose to follow to Troy,

and Alexander did the deed so fearlessly and with such freedom that it was not enough for him to carry off the woman, but he added the treasures too—and that no one put out to sea against him, neither of Menelaus' men nor of Tyndareus' nor the brothers of Helen, and that though there were ships in Laconia, and that they had earlier come down on foot from Sparta to the sea, when, as is likely, the rape was at once notorious? And so it was not possible for Helen to go with Alexander; but she was given by her kin in marriage, with their consent.

For thus it was reasonable that Aethra should come with her and the treasures be conveyed. For none of these things is a sign of rape, but far rather of marriage. And since, as I said, Alexander, having married, departed with her, Menelaus was grieved at failing of the wooing and blamed his brother, and said he had been betrayed by him,

and Agamemnon thought less of him, but feared Alexander and suspected lest he should claim the affairs in Greece, which belonged to him by the marriage. So he calls together the other suitors of Helen, and said that all of them had been insulted, and that Greece was despised, and that the best woman had gone off, given over to the barbarians, as though there were none worthy among them.

Saying this he begged off Tyndareus and bade them pardon him, for he had been deceived by gifts; and he declared Alexander and Priam the cause of everything, and exhorted them to campaign together against Troy; for he had many hopes of taking it, all joining together. And this being done, they would plunder much treasure and possess the best of land. For the city was the wealthiest of all, and the men corrupted by luxury; and he had also many kinsmen in Asia, the descendants of Pelops, who would help him, hating Priam.

Hearing these things, some were angry and counted what had happened a real dishonor to Greece, but others hoped to be benefited by the expedition; for there was a reputation of the affairs in Asia as great and of surpassing wealth. If, then, they had been beaten by Menelaus in wooing Helen, they would not have cared, but on the contrary would have gloated over him; but now they all hated Alexander, each thinking himself robbed of the marriage. And so the expedition coming about, Agamemnon sent and demanded Helen back; for it befitted her, being a Greek, to be married to one of the Greeks.

Hearing these things the Trojans were indignant, and Priam, and most of all Hector, that, Alexander having taken her lawfully from her father, and Helen wishing to live with him, they dared to speak so shameless a word; and they said they knew that they were seeking a pretext for war, but that they themselves were not beginning the war, being the stronger, but were trying to defend themselves. And on this account the Trojans endured being warred upon a long time and suffering much—not so much as Homer says, but yet with their land laid waste and many men dying—because they knew that the Achaeans were the wrongdoers and that Alexander had done nothing absurd.

For otherwise, who of them would have endured—of his brothers or his father or the other citizens perishing, and the whole city in danger of being laid waste through that man's lawlessness—when it was in their power, by giving back Helen, to save themselves? But they, even later, as they say, when Alexander had died, kept her and gave her in marriage to Deiphobus, as having the greatest good in the city and fearing lest she leave them.

And yet if, having been in love with Alexander earlier, she remained, how did she still wish to remain, unless they say that Deiphobus too was in love with her? For it was likely that they would persuade the Trojans, who were ready, to give her back. But if she feared the Achaeans, they should first have found a settlement; for those too would gladly have been rid of the war, when most and best had died. But the matter of the rape was not true, nor did the Trojans furnish a cause of the war, whence they were of good hope to prevail. For men, in matters in which they are wronged, endure to the last, defending themselves.

These things, then, count not to have been done otherwise than as I say. For it is far more credible that Tyndareus willingly allied by marriage with the kings of Asia, and that Menelaus, despairing of the wooing, took it ill, and that Agamemnon feared the sons of Priam lest they hold Greece—hearing that Pelops too, his own ancestor, being from the same country, through marriage with Oenomaus held the Peloponnese—and that the other leaders shared in the war, bearing a grudge, each that he himself did not marry her—than that Alexander fell in love with a woman he knew not, and that his father permitted him to sail for the sake of such a deed,

and that too, as they say, not long after Troy had been taken by Greeks and his own father Laomedon had died; and that later, being warred upon and suffering so many evils, they were unwilling to give her up, neither while Alexander lived nor when he died, having no hope of safety; and that Helen fell in love with a stranger, with whom it is not likely she at first came into company, and, leaving her country and her kin and her husband, with shame came to men who hated her; and that all these things, as they happened, no one prevented, and that neither when she went out—and that on foot, to the sea—nor when she had sailed away did they pursue her; and that the mother of Theseus, an older woman and plainly hating Helen, shared in the voyage;

and later, when Alexander had died, of whom she is said to be enamored, that she lived with Deiphobus, as though, I think, Aphrodite had promised her to him too, and that she would not go to her own husband nor would the Trojans give Helen back by force, until the city was taken. None of these things is likely or possible. And besides what has been said, this too. He says that all the other Achaeans shared in the expedition, those who cared less; but that Castor and Polydeuces alone did not come, who had been most insulted.

And concealing this absurdity, Homer represented Helen wondering at it; then he himself made his defense, saying that they had died earlier. So, at any rate, it is plain that she was seized while they lived. Then how did they wait for Agamemnon ten years, while he tarried and gathered an army, and did not at once pursue their sister—best of all, if they should take her on the voyage;

or, if not, to make war with their own force? For they did not go at once against Theseus, a Greek man and the best of the rest, and besides himself ruler of many and a companion of Heracles and Peirithous, and having the Thessalians and Boeotians as allies; but against Alexander they would not have gone, but waited for the Atreidae ten years collecting their force. For perhaps it was likely that Tyndareus himself too would have come, and that his age would not have prevented him.

For he was not older than Nestor nor than Phoenix, nor did it befit them rather than the father himself to be indignant. But neither he himself nor his sons came, nor was the expedition to their wish. For of their own will they gave Helen, preferring Alexander to the other suitors because of the greatness of his empire and his courage; for he was inferior to none in soul. Neither, then, did those come to make war, nor any of the Lacedaemonians, but this too is false, that Menelaus led the Lacedaemonians and reigned over Sparta while Tyndareus still lived.

For it would be strange if Nestor, neither earlier nor later, on coming from Ilium, yielded the kingdom and the rule to his sons because of age, but Tyndareus made way for Menelaus. For these things too appear to have much difficulty. When, then, the Achaeans came, at first they were kept from the land, and Protesilaus dies forcing a landing, and many of the rest, so that they crossed over to the Chersonese, taking up the dead under truce, and there they buried Protesilaus. Then sailing round they landed on the country and sacked some of the small towns.

But Alexander with Hector gathered all the crowd from the country into the town, but let the small cities by the sea be, because they could not aid everywhere. And again sailing into the harbor of the Achaeans, they landed unobserved by night, and threw up a naval station and dug a trench, fearing Hector and the Trojans, and prepared rather as men who would themselves be besieged.

But they grant Homer the rest, yet say that he does not speak the wall as a thing that happened, since he later represented Apollo and Poseidon letting the rivers loose upon it and effacing it; which is most plausible of all, that the foundations of the wall were flooded. For even now the rivers turn the place into a marsh and have silted up much of the sea.

And the rest of the time they partly did harm, partly suffered it, and not many battles took place in pitched array; for they did not dare to approach the city because of the multitude and courage of those within; but there were skirmishes and thefts on the part of the Greeks; and so Troilus dies, being still a boy, and Mestor and several others. For Achilles was most formidable at ambush and at attacking by night.

Whence, coming upon Aeneas thus, he nearly killed him on Ida, and many others throughout the country, and he took the badly guarded forts; for the Achaeans were not masters of the land, but only of the camp. And here is a proof: for Troilus would never have exercised outside the wall, and that far from the city, nor would they have farmed the Chersonese, as all agree, if they were masters of the Troad, nor would wine have been brought to them from Lemnos.

And the Achaeans faring badly in the war, and none of the things they hoped for coming to pass, but more allies ever streaming in to the Trojans, plague and famine pressed upon them, and there was faction of the leaders, which is wont for the most part to happen to those faring badly, not to the victors.

And Homer agrees to this; for he could not hide all the truth; in the passage where he says that Agamemnon gathered an assembly of the Greeks, as about to lead away the army—plainly because the multitude was taking it ill and wishing to depart—and that the crowd rushed to the ships; and that Nestor and Odysseus barely restrained them, putting forward a certain prophecy and saying that the time was short for which they asked them to remain.

And the seer of these things Agamemnon, in the verses above, says never prophesied anything true. Up to these things, then, in order, Homer does not appear greatly to despise men, but in a way to hold to the truth—except that he relates the matter of the rape not himself as a thing that happened, but having made Hector reproach Alexander and Helen lament to Priam, and Alexander himself recall it in his converse with Helen—which of all things ought most clearly to have been told and with the greatest earnestness; and besides the matter of the single combat.

For, unable to say that Menelaus killed Alexander, he grants him empty favors and a ridiculous victory, as though the sword had broken. For there was no using Alexander's, being so far the stronger, as to drag him alive among the Achaeans with his arms; but he had to throttle him with the strap?

And false too is the single combat of Ajax and Hector, and very silly the breaking-off, Ajax again there conquering, but with no result, and their giving gifts to one another as friends. And after these things he now tells the truth, the defeat and rout of the Achaeans and the prowess of Hector and the multitude of the slain, as he promised to tell, in a way unwilling, and referring it to the honor of Achilles.

And yet he says the city was beloved of the gods, and has made Zeus say outright that of all the cities under the sun he loved Ilium most, and Priam and his people. Then, the potsherd having fallen the other way, as they say, he changed so much as most pitifully to destroy the dearest of all, through the fault of one man, if indeed he sinned. Yet he is not able to hide the deeds of Hector, conquering and pursuing as far as the ships, now comparing him to Ares, now saying his might is like fire, and all the best dismayed at him, none simply enduring him, and Apollo standing beside him and Zeus from above signaling with wind and thunder—

for these things, not wishing to tell so plainly, yet, since they were true, having begun on them he cannot withdraw—that grievous night and the dejection in the camp and the consternation of Agamemnon and the wailings, and besides the nocturnal assembly of those taking counsel how to flee, and the supplications to Achilles, if he might somehow be of any help.

And on the next day he grants a profitless prowess to Agamemnon and to Diomedes and to Odysseus and Eurypylus, and says that Ajax fought eagerly, but at once the Trojans prevailed and Hector drove on to the wall of the Achaeans and the ships. And saying these things he is plainly telling the truth and led on by the facts themselves; but when he magnifies the Achaeans, he is full of much difficulty and to all plainly lies—that Ajax twice mastered Hector in vain, once in the single combat, again with the stone, and that Diomedes mastered Aeneas, though this man too accomplished nothing, but only took the horses, which was incapable of refutation.

And not having anything to grant them, he says that Ares and Aphrodite were wounded by Diomedes. In all which he is plainly well-disposed to them and wishing them to be admired, but having nothing true to say, through his difficulty falling into impossible and impious matters, which all who fight against the truth for the most part suffer.

But about Hector he is not at a loss likewise what great and wonderful thing to say, since, I think, he relates the things that happened: all fleeing headlong, and the best by name, when he says that neither Idomeneus remained nor Agamemnon nor the two Ajaxes, but Nestor alone of necessity, and he was nearly taken; and that Diomedes coming to the rescue and for a little while emboldened, then at once turned and fled, as though thunderbolts forsooth kept him off;

and at last the trench crossed and the naval station besieged and the gates broken by Hector and the Achaeans now penned into the ships and all the war about the tents, and Ajax fighting from above on the ships and at last cast out by Hector and withdrawing, and some of the ships burned.

For here there is no Aeneas snatched away by Aphrodite nor Ares wounded by a man nor any other such incredible thing, but true matters and like things that happened. After which defeat it was no longer possible to renew the fight nor ever to take heart for men so spent that they were helped neither by the trench nor by the rampart, and could not even guard the ships themselves.

For what so great power was there still, or who was so invincible a man and having the strength of a god, who by appearing could save those already lost? For the multitude of the Myrmidons, how much was it compared with the whole army? Or the might of Achilles, who was not then surely about to fight for the first time, but had many times in many previous years come to blows, and neither killed Hector nor wrought any other great thing, save that he took Troilus while still a boy in age?

But coming to this point, Homer no longer took thought for the truth, but came to the height of shamelessness, and simply overturned all the facts and changed them into the opposite—despising men, because he saw them very readily believing him in other things and about the gods; there being no other poets or writers, among whom the truth was told, but he himself first set about writing of these matters, having composed them many generations later, when those who knew them had perished, and those from them too, and only a dim and feeble report being left, as is likely about very ancient things; and besides, being about to relate the verses to the many and to private men, and that making the affairs of the Greeks the better, so as not even to be refuted by those who knew. So then he dared to make things contrary to what happened:

For Achilles having come to the rescue at the capture of the ships, more from necessity and for his own safety's sake, there was indeed some rout of the Trojans and they at once withdrew from the ships and the fire was quenched, since Achilles fell upon them suddenly, and the rest withdrew and Hector drew himself off outside the trench and the narrow space about the camp, slowly and halting, as Homer himself says.

And when they joined and fought again, Achilles contended most nobly with his men, and killed many of the Trojans and the allies, among others Sarpedon, said to be the son of Zeus, king of the Lycians; and about the crossing of the river there was much slaughter as they withdrew—yet they did not flee headlong, but many turnings-back took place each time.

And Hector in this watched, being most experienced at understanding the moment of battle, and while Achilles was at his height and fought fresh, he did not engage him, but only exhorted the others; but when he perceived him now wearied and much abated of his former impulse, since he had not husbanded himself in the contest, and worn out by the river that had flowed greater, crossing it inexpertly, and saw him wounded by Asteropaeus the Paeonian, and Aeneas standing against him and fighting at length and, when he wished, withdrawing safely, and Achilles starting to pursue Agenor but not catching him—and yet in this above all Achilles excelled, that he was thought swiftest—

so then it had become plain to him through all these things that Achilles was easy to take, since he himself was formidable in the art of war; so, confident, he met him in the middle of the plain. And at first he gave way as though fleeing, making trial of him, and at the same time wishing to wear him out, now waiting, now fleeing; but when he saw him slowing and falling behind, so turning he came against him, no longer able even to carry his arms, and joining battle killed him and won his arms, as Homer too has said. And he says that Hector pursued the horses, but did not take them, and they too were taken.

So the body the Ajaxes barely saved to the ships. For the Trojans, now confident and thinking they were conquering, followed more softly; but Hector, putting on the arms of Achilles, which were conspicuous, slew and pursued as far as the sea, as Homer agrees in this. And night coming on prevented him from burning all the ships. And these things being so, not having how to hide the truth, he says that it was Patroclus who came out with the Myrmidons, having put on the arms of Achilles, and that this man died by Hector, and that Hector thus won the arms.

And yet how would Achilles, the camp being in such danger and the ships now burning and the terror all but come upon himself, and hearing that Hector says no one is a match for him and that Zeus helps him and shows favorable signs, if indeed he wished to save the Achaeans, himself remain in his tent, being best at fighting, but send one far worse than himself? And at the same time charge him to fall on strongly and ward off the Trojans, yet at the same time not to fight Hector? For it was not, I think, in his power, once he had gone forth, with whom he wished to fight.

And so, somewhat despising Patroclus and distrusting him, he entrusted to him his force and his own arms and his horses—as one would take the worst counsel about his own affairs, wishing to destroy everything—then prayed to Zeus that Patroclus return with all the arms and his companions, so witlessly sending him against a stronger man, whom, challenging the best, none wished to face,

and to whom Agamemnon outright said that Achilles too feared and did not wish to engage. Accordingly he says that, having so counseled, Achilles was deprived of his companion and of many others, and nearly of his horses too, and was made weaponless—things which Achilles would never have done unless out of his senses; or, if not, Phoenix would altogether have prevented him. But he did not wish, he says, quickly to rid the Achaeans of danger, until he received the gifts, and at the same time had not yet ceased from his anger.

And what hindered him from going forth as far as he wished and again being wrathful? But understanding such absurdity, he hints through a certain prophecy that he remained, as one who, if he went forth, would altogether die—outright accusing him of cowardice; and yet it was in his power, through this prophecy, to sail away, having quarreled with Agamemnon. Yet besides, about Patroclus he happened to have heard from his mother, whom he says he honored equal to his own head, and would not even himself wish to live when that man had died.

And when he saw him unable to lift the spear, the rest he gave plainly resembled the spear, and he did not fear lest he should be unable to bear them—as indeed he says happened about the battle. But if one should refute everything, it would be much labor. For the falsehood is plain of itself to those attending; so that it is unclear to no one, even of those having little sense, that Patroclus is well-nigh a substitute, and Homer exchanged this man for Achilles, wishing to hide what concerns him.

And suspecting lest someone seek a tomb of Patroclus too—as, I think, the tombs of the other heroes who died at Troy are plain—for this reason, forestalling, he said that there was no tomb of him by himself, but that he was laid with Achilles. And Nestor did not think fit to be buried with Antilochus, who died for him, but carried home the bones; but the bones of Achilles were mixed with those of Patroclus? Most of all, then, Homer wished to do away with the death of Achilles, as not having died at Ilium.

But since he saw this impossible, the report prevailing and the tomb being shown, he at least took away his death by Hector and says the opposite, that Hector was slain by Achilles, who so far surpassed all men, and besides that his corpse was outraged and dragged as far as the walls.

And again, knowing there was a tomb of Hector and that he was honored by the citizens, he says he was given back by command of Zeus, ransom being paid, and that meanwhile Aphrodite and Apollo took care that the corpse should remain whole. And not having what to do with Achilles, since he had to be killed by one of the Trojans—for he was not, like Ajax, going to make him die by his own hand, grudging the glory to the slayer—he says that Alexander killed him, whom he has made the worst and most cowardly of the Trojans, and nearly taken alive by Menelaus, whom he has continually represented being reviled, as a soft warrior and a reproach among the Greeks.

That he might take away the glory of Hector, he is plainly seen to have brought down Achilles too, and made his death far worse and more inglorious. And at last he brings forward Achilles already dead and makes him fight; and there being no arms, but Hector having them—for here one true thing said escaped him—he says Thetis brought from heaven the arms made by Hephaestus; and so ridiculously Achilles alone routs the Trojans, while of the other Achaeans, as though none were present, he forgot them all; and having once dared to lie thus, he confounded everything. And he makes the gods here fight one another, nearly confessing that he cares nothing for truth.

And very feebly and unpersuasively he goes through the prowess, now him fighting a river, now threatening Apollo and pursuing him; from all which one may see his difficulty almost; for he is not in the true things so unpersuasive nor unpleasant: with difficulty at last, the Trojans fleeing into the city, he has represented Hector before the wall most bravely awaiting him and obeying neither father nor mother who entreated him, then fleeing round the city, when it was in his power to enter, and Achilles, ever said by him to be swiftest of men, unable to catch him.

And all the Achaeans looking on as if present at a spectacle, and none aiding Achilles, having suffered such things from Hector and hating him, so that they even wound the corpse. Then Deiphobus came out of the wall—or rather Athena beguiled him, likened to Deiphobus—and stole the spear of Hector in the battle, not even finding how to kill Hector, in a way dizzy about the falsehood and in truth relating the battle as in a dream. For most of all the things about that battle resemble strange dreams.

And having come to this point, he gave up for the rest, having nothing to do with the poetry, and vexed at the falsehoods, adding a certain funeral contest, and this very ridiculously, and the arrival of king Priam at the camp to Achilles, none of the Achaeans perceiving it, and the ransom of Hector. And neither the aid of Memnon nor that of the Amazons, so wonderful and great, did he dare to tell, nor the death of Achilles nor the capture of Troy.

For he did not endure, I think, to make Achilles, long dead, killed again, nor the vanquished and fleeing victorious, nor the city that prevailed sacked. But those later, as being deceived and now confident, the falsehood being strong, wrote thus. But the affairs were as follows.

Achilles having died by Hector in the aid of the ships, the Trojans, as before, encamped near the ships, to watch the Achaeans; for they suspected they would run off by night; but Hector withdrew to the city, to his parents and his wife, rejoicing in what was done, leaving Paris over the army.

And he himself and the multitude of the Trojans slept, as was likely, being worn out and expecting no evil, and besides there being complete prosperity. In this Agamemnon, with Nestor and Odysseus and Diomedes, having taken counsel, in silence launched most of the ships, seeing that on the previous day too they had nearly been destroyed, so that there was not even flight left, and no small part of them had been burned, but not the one ship of Protesilaus; and having done this they sailed away to the Chersonese, leaving many of the captives and not a few of the other possessions.

And at daybreak, the matter being plain, Hector was indignant and took it ill and reviled Alexander; for he had let the enemy out of his hands; and the Trojans burned the tents and plundered what was left. And the Achaeans took counsel in safety—for Hector's men had no fleet ready, so as to cross against them—and it seemed good to all to depart, a great multitude having perished and the best men; but there was danger lest, having made ships, they should at once sail against Greece.

For this reason, then, it was necessary to remain, as at first, playing the pirate, in hope of somehow coming to terms with Paris when weary and, having made peace, departing. And when they resolved this, they did it, remaining across. And here there came to the Trojans, from Ethiopia Memnon, and the Amazons from Pontus, as helpers, and another multitude of allies, as they learned that Priam and Hector prospered and the Achaeans were all but destroyed—some out of goodwill, some too out of fear of their power; for not to the vanquished nor to those faring badly, but to the victors and to those who prevail over all, do all wish to give aid.

And the Achaeans too sent for any help they could from their own; for of those outside no one any longer heeded them; but Neoptolemus the son of Achilles, quite young, and Philoctetes, formerly disregarded because of his disease, and such helps from home, weak and scanty. When these had come, having breathed a little, they crossed again to Troy, and threw round another wall much smaller, not in the former place by the shore, but having occupied the high ground of it.

And of the ships some lay at anchor under the wall, others remained across; for, having no hope of prevailing, but needing settlements, as I said, they did not war steadily, but in a way ambiguously and with their mind rather toward the voyage home. So they used ambushes for the most part and raids. And once a stronger battle taking place, as they forced their way to take the fort, Ajax dies by Hector, and Antilochus by Memnon before his father;

and Memnon himself too was wounded by Antilochus, and being carried off wounded dies on the road. And it befell the Achaeans to have a good day then as not before. For Memnon, having great repute, was wounded mortally, and Neoptolemus killed the Amazon, who had run down to the ships too boldly and was trying to burn them, fighting from the ship with a sea-pike; and Alexander dies, shot down by Philoctetes.

There was, then, despondency even among the Trojans, lest they should never cease from the war nor have any advantage by conquering. And Priam had become another man after the death of Alexander, greatly grieved and fearing for Hector. But the affairs of the Achaeans were far meaner, Antilochus and Ajax being dead; so that they send about a settlement, saying they would depart, peace being made and oaths sworn that neither they themselves should campaign into Asia nor those against Argos.

And after this Hector spoke against it; for they were far stronger, and he said he would take the fortress by force; and he was most grieved at the death of Alexander. But his father entreating, and speaking of his own old age and the death of his children, and the rest of the multitude wishing to be rid of it, he consented to the settlement; but he demanded that the Achaeans both repay the money spent on the war and undergo some penalty, because, having been wronged in nothing, they campaigned and laid waste the country for many years and killed good men, among others Alexander, having suffered nothing from him, but because he was thought the stronger in wooing and took a wife from Greece, her guardians giving her.

But Odysseus—for he was the envoy about the peace—begged off, showing that they had done no less than they had suffered, and laid the cause of the war upon them; for Alexander had no need, there being so many women in Asia, but he, coming to Greece, wooed and went off laughing at the best among them, conquering by wealth; for the wooing did not happen simply, but it did not escape them that he was plotting against the affairs there through this; so that for the rest he begged them to cease, so many evils having befallen both, and that too there being marriage-alliance and kinship of the Atreidae with them through Pelops.

And about the money he laughed; for there was no money to the Greeks, but even now most campaign willingly because of poverty at home. And this he said, turning them from the expedition against Greece. And if some penalty had to be made for decency's sake, he himself would find it. For they would leave them the fairest and greatest offering to Athena and would inscribe, 'A propitiation: the Achaeans to Athena of Ilium.' For this would bring them great honor; but against themselves would be a testimony as of the vanquished.

And he called upon Helen too to help with the peace. And she eagerly cooperated; for she was vexed that on her account the Trojans seemed to suffer many evils. And they make the settlement, and treaties come about for the Trojans and the Achaeans. But Homer transferred this too to falsehood, knowing it happened; for he said that the Trojans broke the treaties; and Hector and Agamemnon and the powerful of the rest swore to one another that neither should the Greeks ever campaign into Asia, while the race of Priam ruled, nor the sons of Priam into the Peloponnese or Boeotia or Crete or Ithaca or Phthia or Euboea.

For these alone they made excepted; but about the rest the Trojans would not swear nor did the Atreidae care. These things being sworn, the horse was completed by the Achaeans, a great work, and the Trojans led it up to the city, and the gates not receiving it, they pulled down a part of the wall; whence it was ridiculously said that the city was taken by the horse. And the army went off under truce in this way. And Helen Hector gave in marriage to Deiphobus, who was after him the best of the brothers.

And his father dies, the most blessed of all, save in so far as he had grieved over his dead children. And himself having reigned many years and subdued most of Asia, he dies in old age, and is buried before the city. And the kingdom he left to his son Scamandrius. These things being so, I know clearly that no one will accept it, but all will say they are false—except those who have sense—not only the Greeks, but you too. For the slander is exceedingly hard, and being deceived for a long time.

But consider how the contrary things are ridiculous, setting aside the opinion and the prepossession: that a whole army was hidden in the horse, and that none of the Trojans perceived this or suspected it, and that too there being among them an unerring seer, but that they brought the enemy by their own hands into the city; and earlier, that one man, all being vanquished, was sufficient, appearing naked, to rout by his voice so many myriads, and after this, having no arms, taking them from heaven, to conquer those who the day before were prevailing, and to pursue them all, being one;

and that he himself, so far excelling, died by the basest in soul of all, as they themselves say; and that, another being dead, another was stripped, and that to him alone of the leaders there was no tomb; and that another of the best, warring so many years, died by none of the enemy, but slew himself in anger, and that too thought the most august and gentlest of the allies.

And that the poet, having set out to tell the Trojan war, left the fairest and greatest of what happened, and did not even go through the capture of the city. For these things are in the things composed and told: Achilles, the Achaeans having been beaten beforehand not once and not only the others but also his own army, alone surviving and changing the affairs so much, himself killing Hector but dying by Alexander, who was the last of the Trojans, as they themselves say, and Patroclus being dead, Achilles being stripped and that man's arms taken, but Patroclus not buried.

And since there was a tomb of Ajax and all knew that he died at Troy, that he might not make the slayer renowned, he made him kill himself. And the Achaeans fleeing from Asia in silence and burning the tents, and their naval station set on fire by Hector and their wall taken, and dedicating an offering to Athena and inscribing it, as is the custom for the vanquished, but nonetheless having taken Troy, and an army of men hidden in the wooden horse; and the Trojans suspecting the matter and resolving to burn the horse or cut it in two, but doing none of these, but drinking and sleeping, and that too with Cassandra foretelling it to them.

Are these things not in truth like dreams and incredible falsehoods? For in dreams written within a frame men see such sights, now seeming to die and be stripped, then again to rise and fight, being naked, and sometimes thinking they pursue and converse with the gods and slay themselves, no danger being present, and so, if it chance, to fly and walk on the sea. So that one might rightly call Homer's poetry too a dream, and this an indistinct and obscure one.

And it is worth considering that other point too, besides what is agreed. For all agree that the Achaeans were brought back from Asia in winter already, and on this account most of the fleet perished about Euboea; and besides that not all sailed by the same course, but the army and the Atreidae fell into faction, and some attached themselves to Agamemnon, some to Menelaus, and some went off by themselves—which Homer too mentions in the Odyssey. For those faring well are likely to be of one mind and for the most part to submit to the king, and Menelaus not to quarrel with his brother straightway after the benefaction; but to the vanquished and those faring badly all these things must come about.

And besides, those fearing and fleeing from enemy territory depart most quickly; but the victorious even remain in danger; and those who prevail and have, besides their own, so great a multitude of captives and treasures, await the safest season, since they are masters of the very land and have great abundance of everything—but did not wait ten years and nearly perish. And the calamities at home that overtook those who returned not least show their stumbling and weakness;

for men are not at all wont to attack the victorious nor the fortunate, but these they admire and fear, while those who fail both outsiders and some of their own kin despise. And Agamemnon plainly was despised by his wife because of the defeat, and Aegisthus attacked him and mastered him easily, and the Argives, taking up the matter, appointed Aegisthus king—which they would not have done had he killed Agamemnon coming with such repute and power, having mastered Asia.

And Diomedes was driven from home, being of repute in the war second to none, and Neoptolemus, whether by Greeks or by some others; and not long after all were driven from the Peloponnese, and the race of the sons of Pelops was overthrown through that calamity, and the Heraclidae, formerly weak and dishonored, came down with the Dorians.

And Odysseus tarried willingly, partly out of shame, partly suspecting the affairs. And on this account the youth of the Cephallenians turned to the wooing of Penelope and the plundering of his goods. And none of the friends of Odysseus came to aid, nor Nestor, though so near. For all were humbled and faring meanly, those who had shared in the expedition. But on the contrary the victorious ought to have appeared formidable to all, and no one to attempt anything against them.

And Menelaus did not come to the Peloponnese at all, but remained in Egypt. And there are signs of his coming, both others and a nome named after him, which would not be if he had come wandering and for a little while. And having married the daughter of the king, he related to the priests the matters of the expedition, hiding nothing. And they say that he took Helen too from there—a story most incredible of all; and that meanwhile he kept, unknown, a phantom from Troy; and that the war was waged about a phantom for ten years.

And Homer well-nigh knows this too and hints at it, saying that Menelaus after death was sent by the gods to the Elysian plain, where there is neither snow nor winter, but clear air throughout the year and a gentle climate; for the place in Egypt is such. And it seems to me that some of the later poets too suspected the affairs. For one of the tragedians says that Helen was plotted against by Orestes the moment she came, and became invisible when her brothers appeared. But this he would never have done, if Helen appeared to have dwelt afterward in Greece and lived with Menelaus.

The affairs of the Greeks, then, after the war came to this misfortune and humiliation, but those of the Trojans became far better and more glorious. For Aeneas, sent by Hector with a fleet and much force, possessed Italy, the most prosperous country of Europe; and Helenus, coming into the midst of Greece, reigned over the Molossians and the mainland near Thessaly. And yet which was likely—that the vanquished should sail against the country of the victors and reign among them, or the contrary, the victors against that of the vanquished?

And how, if when Troy was taken the followers of Aeneas and Antenor and Helenus fled, did they not flee everywhere rather than to Greece and Europe, nor were content to occupy some place in Asia, but at once sailed against the country of those by whom they were laid waste? And how did they all reign over no small or nameless regions, when it was in their power even to hold Greece?—but they abstained because of the oaths. Yet Helenus cut off no small part of it, Epirus; and Antenor mastered the Eneti and the best land about the Adriatic; and Aeneas reigned over all Italy and founded the greatest city of all.

These things it was not likely that fugitive men should do, men cast down by calamities at home, but rather to be content if anyone let them settle; especially having come with what resources of money or army, fleeing through the midst of the enemy, the city burned, all lost, where it was hard for the strong and young to save their very bodies—and not to depart with children, women, and parents and goods, and that too the city being taken unexpectedly and beyond hope, not, as they are wont, abandoning it little by little under truce?

But what happened was able to happen. They say that Hector, when the Achaeans had sailed away, a great multitude having gathered into the city and not even all the allies wishing to depart, and besides seeing Aeneas not content unless he should receive a share of the rule—for this Priam had promised him if he should fight out the war and drive out the Achaeans—so sent out the colony, not sparing money and sending as great a multitude as he himself wished, with all eagerness.

And that he said that he was worthy to reign and to have a rule no whit inferior to his own, but that it rather befitted him to acquire another land; for it was not impossible to master all Europe; and these things being so, the descendants of them had hope of ruling each continent, as long as the race should be preserved.

So when Hector thought fit, Aeneas chose this, partly to gratify him, partly hoping to attain greater things; and so the colony came about from strength and high spirit, by fortunate men, and was able both at once and again. And Antenor, seeing Aeneas sent out, himself too desired to rule over Europe, and another such fleet was made. And besides these, Helenus, complaining that he was being slighted in favor of Deiphobus, asked his father, and taking ships and an army sailed against Greece as against a ready prey and possessed all the land outside the truce.

And so Diomedes too, fleeing from Argos, when he learned of the fleet of Aeneas, came to him, peace and friendship arising between them, and asked to obtain aid, relating the calamities of Agamemnon and his own. And Aeneas took him up, having few ships, and handed over some part of the army, since he held all the country.

And later those of the Achaeans driven out by the Dorians, at a loss whither to turn through weakness, came to Asia as to friends and allies, the descendants of Priam and Hector, and settled Lesbos by their leave through friendship, and other no small regions. And whoever is not persuaded by these things because of the old opinion, let him know that he is unable to be freed from deception and to distinguish the false from the true.

For that a thing has been believed a long time by foolish men is no strong proof, nor that falsehoods were told among the former; since indeed about many other things too men differ and hold contrary opinions. For instance, straightway about the Persian war, some say that the sea-fight at Salamis was later than the battle at Plataea, others that the last of the deeds was the one at Plataea;

and yet it was written down immediately after the events. For the many do not know the exact truth, but hear only report, and that those who lived at that time; while the second and third generations are utterly inexperienced and readily accept whatever anyone says; when they name the Sciritan company of the Lacedaemonians, which never existed, as Thucydides says, and the Athenians honor Harmodius and Aristogeiton most of all, as having freed the city and killed the tyrant.

And what need to speak of human things, where they dare to say of Uranus, and persuade men, that he was mutilated by Cronus, and Cronus by Zeus? For, the first opinion having taken hold, as is wont, it is absurd to be persuaded. But I wish to make a defense of Homer too, that it is not unworthy to agree with him in lying. For first, his falsehoods are far fewer than those about the gods; and then they had some benefit for the Greeks of that time, that they might not be alarmed, if a war should arise for them against those from Asia, as indeed was expected. And it is no cause for blame, being a Greek, to benefit one's own in every way.

And this stratagem is found among many. I, at least, heard a Median man saying that the Persians agree to none of the things told among the Greeks, but say that Darius sent Datis and Artaphernes against Naxos and Eretria, and that they, taking the cities, came to the king. And while they lay at anchor about Euboea, a few ships, not more than twenty, were scattered to Attica, and there was some battle of the sailors with the people there from the place.

And after this, Xerxes, having campaigned against Greece, conquered the Lacedaemonians at Thermopylae and killed their king Leonidas, and taking the city of the Athenians razed it, and enslaved as many as did not escape. And having done this and imposed tributes on the Greeks, departed to Asia. That these things are false is not unclear; but that it was likely the king bade them say he had campaigned, to the up-country nations, is not impossible, that they might not be troubled. If, then, Homer too did this, it is worthy of pardon.

Perhaps, then, someone unacquainted might say, "You do not rightly demolish the Greeks." But there is no longer any such thing, nor is there fear lest ever some of those from Asia should campaign against Greece; for Greece is under others, and so is Asia. And the truth is worth no little. And besides, if I knew that I should persuade men saying these things, perhaps I should have taken thought about saying them. Yet I say I take away greater and more grievous reproaches of the Greeks.

For not to take some city is nothing absurd, nor to campaign against a land no way belonging to them and then, having made peace, to depart, nor for a man good in soul to die fighting by a man like himself—this too is no reproach; nay, one about to die would even accept it, as Achilles is made to say, 'Would that Hector had killed me, who was reared here the best.'

But for the best of the Greeks to die by the basest of the enemy is in truth a great reproach; and likewise for him who seemed to have sense and to be the most temperate of the Greeks first to slaughter the sheep and the oxen, wishing to kill the kings, and afterward to slay himself for the sake of arms, is most shameful.

And besides these, to kill Astyanax, the child of a good man, so cruelly, casting him from the wall, and that too by the common resolve of the army and the kings; and to slaughter Polyxena, a maiden, on a tomb, and to pour such libations to the son of the goddess; and that Cassandra, an all-holy maiden, priestess of Apollo, should be violated in the precinct of Athena, clinging to the statue, and that this should be done by none of the base nor the unworthy, but by one who was among the best;

and that Priam, the king of Asia, in extreme old age, wounded at the altar of Zeus, from whom his race was, should be slaughtered upon it, and that not even this should be wrought by any of the obscure, but by the son of Achilles, and that too one who had been feasted by his father and saved by him before; and that Hecuba, the wretched mother of so many children, should be given to Odysseus for outrage, and, by the greatness of her evils, very ridiculously become a dog; and that the king of the Greeks should take to wife the sacred maiden of Apollo, whom no one dared to marry because of the god, whence he seemed to have died justly: how much better were these things for the Greeks, had they not happened, than that Troy should be taken?