Summary
The following argument of the Iliad, corrected in
a few particulars, is translated from Bitaube, and is, perhaps, the
neatest summary that has ever been drawn up: — "A hero, injured by his
general, and animated with a noble resentment, retires to his tent; and
for a season withdraws himself and his troops from the war. During this
interval, victory abandons the army, which for nine years has been
occupied in a great enterprise, upon the successful termination of
which the honour of their country depends. The general, at length
opening his eyes to the fault which he had committed, deputes the
principal officers of his army to the incensed hero, with commission to
make compensation for the injury, and to tender magnificent presents.
The hero, according to the proud obstinacy of his character, persists
in his animosity; the army is again defeated, and is on the verge of
entire destruction. This inexorable man has a friend; this friend weeps
before him, and asks for the hero's arms, and for permission to go to
the war in his stead. The eloquence of friendship prevails more than
the intercession of the ambassadors or the gifts of the general. He
lends his armour to his friend, but commands him not to engage with the
chief of the enemy's army, because he reserves to himself the honour of
that combat, and because he also fears for his friend's life. The
prohibition is forgotten; the friend listens to nothing but his
courage; his corpse is brought back to the hero, and the hero's arms
become the prize of the conqueror. Then the hero, given up to the most
lively despair, prepares to fight; he receives from a divinity new
armour, is reconciled with his general and, thirsting for glory and
revenge, enacts prodigies of valour, recovers the victory, slays the
enemy's chief, honours his friend with superb funeral rites, and
exercises a cruel vengeance on the body of his destroyer; but finally
appeased by the tears and prayers of the father of the slain warrior,
restores to the old man the corpse of his son, which he buries with due
solemnities.' —Coleridge, p. 177, sqq.
