Achilles and His Son Neoptolemus - Some Personal Thoughts on Rejoicing in the Flourishing of Our Children - From Book XI of "The Odyssey" by Homer

Stephen Alexander Beach

(1540 Words) 

In Book XI of The Odyssey by Homer, Odysseus and his companions make a stop at the land of the dead. On the beach where they land their ship he performs a ritual which summons the spirits of those who have died, in order to attempt to contact an old seer of Thebes, Tiresias. While he does this he encounters the spirits of many people who he knew, including the famous Achilles. Achilles: The greatest of the heroes in battle at Troy, the one who amassed so much bounty and loot from his success in battle, and whose fame spread far and wide. Even though Achilles was the greatest of fighters, he had a prophesied death, and he knew that he would not survive the battle at Troy. Indeed that is what happens, and why Odysseus finds his spirit among the dead. 

And when they begin to talk, I find it interesting that Achilles chooses to ask about his father and his son. He does not ask about all of his precious armor and weapons, his mistresses, nor his lost fame. He is worried if his father is being abused in his old age, and if his son did well in battle after he died. When he finds out that his son fought bravely in the war, was actually part of the crew that was in the Trojan Horse, and is still alive and doing well, that is all that he needs to hear. While being in the realm of the dead is somewhat torture, as he admits he would rather be a peasant in real life than a king in the underworld, it is this news about his son that brings joy to him, and so his spirit runs off from Odysseus, being satisfied. "Off he went, the ghost of the great runner, Aeacus' grandson loping with long strides across the fields of asphodel, triumphant in all I had told him of his son, his gallant, glorious son." 

What if find interesting about this is that it reflects my firm believe that there is nothing more meaningful in life than raising children. To see the innocent creature that you brought into the world and loved for so many years, to finally grow up and become their own person in a successful way, that seems to be one of life's greatest joys. Unfortunately, this aspect of life does not seem to be talked about very much today. In my opinion, much more of the cultural conversations today are about how I, as an individual, am going to find some type of success in the world, how I am going to gratify myself with pleasure, honor, wealth, and power. We may see Achilles earlier in the story, and long to have his fame, his power, his skill battle, his loot, etc., but can we see that was his son that ultimately made his soul at peace. 

Of course, it is important to take pride in developing oneself and to trying to achieve a certain level of mastery of a skill and success at it, but my fear is that too many people today take that mission as the end all be all of life, and end up neglecting the duty and privilege of parenting. Either they do not have kids, put them off for too long, or are not present emotional or physically to those that they have. It is true that there are many professions where, for the benefit of society in general, we need people who are completely dedicated to their craft. The neurosurgeon needs to spend a vast majority of the hours of the week dedicated to his craft and learning, no doubt. But I don't think this should be the default stance of young people growing up. I believe that a lot of the world's ills go back to the family, and the increasing brokenness that is found there today where the nuclear family is in shambles. If we took time to focus more on healthy marriages, and parents invested in their children's lives, I think that many more people would find true and lasting happiness in this world in providing a loving and stable home for their children to flourish, to feel loved, and to have the stability to go out and become the person they were meant to be. Each moment is an opportunity to do this for them, don't let them pass by. 

The Passage

"So we stood there, trading heartsick stories, deep in grief, as the tears streamed down our faces.

But now there came the ghosts of Peleus' son Achilles, Patroclus, fearless Antilochus—and Great Ajax too, the first in stature, first in build and bearing of all the Argives after Peleus' matchless son.

The ghost of the splendid runner knew me at once and hailed me with a flight of mournful questions:

'Royal son of Laertes, Odysseus, man of tactics, reckless friend, what next? 

What greater feat can that cunning head contrive?

What daring brought you down to the House of Death?— where the senseless, burnt-out wraiths of mortals make their home: 310

The voice of his spirit paused, and I was quick to answer:

'Achilles, son of Peleus, greatest of the Achaeans, I had to consult Tiresias, driven here by hopes he would help me journey home to rocky Ithaca.

Never yet have I neared Achaea, never once set foot on native ground... my life is endless trouble.

But you, Achilles, there's not a man in the world more blest than you— there never has been, never will be one.

Time was, when you were alive, we Argives honored you as a god, and now down here, I see, you lord it over the dead in all your power.

So grieve no more at dying, great Achilles.'

I reassured the ghost, but he broke out, protesting,

'No winning words about death to me, shining Odysseus!

By god, I'd rather slave on earth for another man— some dirt-poor tenant farmer who scrapes to keep alive— than rule down here over all the breathless dead.

But come, tell me the news about my gallant son.

Did he make his way to the wars, did the boy become a champion-yes or no?

Tell me of noble Peleus, any word you've heard— still holding pride of place among his Myrmidon hordes, or do they despise the man in Hellas and in Phthia because old age has lamed his arms and legs?

For I no longer stand in the light of day— the man I was - comrade-in-arms to help my father as once I helped our armies, killing the best fighters Troy could field in the wide world up there.

Oh to arrive at father's house-the man I was, for one brief day—l'd make my fury and my hands, invincible hands, a thing of terror to all those men who abuse the king with force and wrest away his honor!'

So he grieved but I tried to lend him heart:

'About noble Peleus I can tell you nothing, but about your own dear son, Neoptolemus, I can report the whole story, as you wish.

I myself, in my trim ship, I brought him out of Scyros to join the Argives under arms.

And dug in around Troy, debating battle-tactics, he always spoke up first, and always on the mark— godlike Nestor and I alone excelled the boy. Yes, and when our armies fought on the plain of Troy he'd never hang back with the main force of men— he'd always charge ahead,

giving ground to no one in his fury, and scores of men he killed in bloody combat.

How could I list them all, name them all, now, the fighting ranks he leveled, battling for the Argives?

But what a soldier he laid low with a bronze sword: the hero Eurypylus, Telephus' son, and round him troops of his own Cetean comrades slaughtered, lured to war by the bribe his mother took.

The only man I saw to put Eurypylus in the shade was Memnon, son of the Morning.

Again, when our champions climbed inside the horse that Epeus built with labor, and I held full command to spring our packed ambush open or keep it sealed, all our lords and captains were wiping off their tears, knees shaking beneath each man—but not your son.

Never once did I see his glowing skin go pale; he never flicked a tear from his cheeks, no, he kept on begging me there to let him burst from the horse, kept gripping his hilted sword, his heavy bronze-tipped javelin, keen to loose his fighting fury against the Trojans. Then, once we'd sacked King Priam's craggy city, laden with his fair share and princely prize he boarded his own ship, his body all unscarred.

Not a wound from a flying spear or a sharp sword, cut-and-thrust close up-the common marks of war.

Random, raging Ares plays no favorites.'

So I said and off he went, the ghost of the great runner, Aeacus' grandson loping with long strides across the fields of asphodel, triumphant in all I had told him of his son, his gallant, glorious son."

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1 - Homer. The Odyssey. trans. Fagles. 264 - 267