The time has come for Hector to die at the hands of Achilles, and his final moments of life are singularly grim. Achilles shows him no mercy, expressing the most brutal thoughts even before he vengefully finishes off the killer of Patroklos. Hector is forced to know in advance, before he loses consciousness to the death blow from Achilles, that his executioner intends to mutilate his corpse instead of allowing for a proper funeral. And the form of this mutilation is particularly horrific and morally shocking: attaching the body of Hector to the back of his chariot, Achilles will drag it around the walls of Troy for all to see the humiliation of his hated enemy. Is there any hope, then, for transcending such degradation? Only divine intervention, in the story yet to be told, could prevent the disfigurement of a heroic body’s beauty in death. But the story of transcendence must wait. For now, the focus is on the horror and the sorrow of a heroic death as seen through the eyes of Hector’s lamenting widow Andromache.

Copperplate etching (1795) by Tommaso Piroli, after a drawing (1793) by John Flaxman. Image via Wikimedia Commons.

Although Priam and Hecuba, the parents of Hector, have already seen with horror and sorrow what has happened to him at the hands of Achilles, Andromache does not yet know, I.22.437–439. She is in her private quarters, weaving, I.22.440–441, and she calls out to her handmaidens to prepare a bath for Hector’s expected arrival, I.22.442–444, not knowing what has already happened to him, I.22.445–446. Then and only then does she hear the sound of wailing, I.22.447, and now she starts to feel emotionally and physically undone, as her legs and arms start shaking and her weaving pin drops from her trembling hand, I.22.448. She calls out to her handmaidens, telling them to accompany her to the walls of Troy, so that she may see for herself what is happening, I.22.449–450, and then she starts to express her premonitions about the fate of Hector, which are already becoming a part of the lament that formally gets underway only at I.22.477, lasting all the way to I.22.515. While she expresses her premonitions, she is feeling more and more undone, I.22.450–459. Now her heart is in her throat, I.22.451–452. As she rushes up to the walls of Troy, where she will see what has happened, Andromache is compared to a mainás or ‘maenad’, that is, a frenzied woman possessed by Dionysus, I.22.460. Then, finally, she and her handmaidens get to see the grim scene, I.22.261–265: Hector is dead, and his corpse is being dragged behind the speeding chariot of Achilles. At the ghastly sight, Andromache faints, I.22.466–467, and her elaborate headdress comes undone, falling to the ground, I.22.468–472. The women of her immediate family surround her as she comes out of her swoon, I.22.473–475, and now she begins her lament in earnest, I.22.476–515.

In the first lament of Andromache for Hector, as we saw in the anchor comment at I.06.407–439, she was already lamenting the death of Hector before he was even dead. As for her second lament, here at I.22.476–515, she sings it when she sees the corpse of Hector for the first time. As for her third lament, to be featured at I.24.723–746, Andromache will sing it on the occasion of Hector’s funeral. The second lament here is in some ways a preview of the third, which as we will see is technically the most formal of Andromache’s three laments. The beginning of Andromache’s second lament is signaled here at I.22.476 by the technical poetic term amblēdēn, an adverb that means ‘making a start [in performance]’ just as the adverb hupoblēdēn at I.01.292 means ‘continuing [in response]’. As Andromache starts to sing her second lament, the word that refers here at I.22.476 to the form of her singing is the verb goân ‘make lament’, corresponding to the noun góos ‘lament’. We have already seen the noun góos at I.18.051, with reference to the lament sung by Thetis for the future death of Achilles. This form of lament, góos, is conventionally sung by female members of the bereaved family, and there will be more to say about this form in the comment on I.24.720–776. For the moment, however, I focus on what happens after Andromache has finished singing her lament at I.22.476–514. Now the Trojan women who are attending her respond to her lament by continuing it with their own lament, in antiphonal performance, at I.22.515: ‘So she [= Andromache] spoke, and the women wailed in response’ (ὣς ἔφατο κλαίουσ’, ἐπὶ δὲ στενάχοντο γυναῖκες). The antiphonal refrain here at I.22.515 is signaled by the verb epi–stenakhesthai ‘wail in response’, matching the antiphonal refrain at I.19.301 in response to the lament of Briseis. See the anchor comment at I.19.282–302. So, the second lament of Andromache, as we see it come to a conclusion at I.22.515, is a classic example of a group performance as rounded out by way of an antiphonal refrain. For more on such group performance, see again the anchor comment on I.19.282–302, where it is emphasized that Briseis the Aeolian is featured as a distinctly choral personality, analogous to the personality of Sappho herself in the choral songs attributed to that Aeolian prima donna of a later era. See also anchor comment at I.06.407–439 on: three laments by Andromache, part 1; and anchor comment at I.24.723–746 on: three laments by Andromache, part 3.

In the lament of Andromache, she refers here at I.22.483 to the penthos ‘grief’ that the death of Hector has caused her. This word penthos ‘grief’ is a programmatic marker of lament, as we have already seen at I.09.562–564, where a songbird is pictured as singing a song of lament: that songbird is the halkúōn ‘halcyon’, described in that context as polupenthēs ‘having much grief’, I.09.563. See the relevant comment on I.09.561–564.

On the naming of the son of Hector, Astyanax, see the comment on I.22.506–507.

Here at I.22.506–507, the meaning of the name of Hector is made explicit. As noted already in the comment on I.06.402–403, the first of two names given to the son of Hector, Astyanax [Astuanax], I.06.403, means ‘king [anax] of the city [astu]’. This meaning is relevant to the heroic role of the father as protecting a citadel from sieges. This role is expressed by the “speaking name” (nomen loquens) of Hector, Héktōr, which is an agent noun meaning ‘one who holds [ekhein]’. The translation ‘hold’ here conveys the sense of ‘uphold, protect, guard’: so Hector’s name destines him to be the ‘protector’ of the city of Troy. See the comment on I.05.473–474. The name of Hector is relevant to the fact that Hector’s son is named after him. More than that, Hector’s son is named after the primary function of Hector as signaled by the father’s name, and the rationale for that naming is made explicit at I.22.506–507: as Andromache says to her dead husband here, Astyanax is named Astyanax or ‘king of the city’ precisely because his father was protector of the city. Here is the wording at I.22.507: ‘because you [= Héktōr], all by yourself, protected [eruesthai] for them [= the Trojans] the gates and the walls [of their city]’ (οἶος γάρ σφιν ἔρυσο πύλας καὶ τείχεα μακρά). We see at work here the mythological convention of naming a son after a primary heroic trait of the father, as in the case of the son of Ajax, whose name Eurusakēs means ‘the one with the wide shield [sakos]’; this meaning is made explicit in the wording of Sophocles Ajax 574–578. In the case of Hector’s name as Hék-tōr or ‘protector’, there is a serious danger portended by his function as protector of the citadel of Troy: this heroic function of Hector makes him a rival of the goddess Athena in her own divine function as protector of the same citadel of Troy. See the comment on I.06.286–311, especially with reference to the epithet of Athena as erusi-ptolis ‘protector of the citadel [p(t)olis]’ at I.06.305.

Reaching the end of her lament for Hector, Andromache declares ruefully: all that Hector cares about is whether the men and women of Troy will in the end think of him as a hero who deserves to have the kleos ‘glory’ of poetry. Even in defeat, Hector hopes to be worthy of epic. See already the comment on I.22.110.

The lament of Andromache, as we see it come to a conclusion here at I.22.515, is a classic example of a group performance as rounded out here at I.22.515 by way of an antiphonal refrain. For more on such group performance, see the anchor comment on I.19.282–302, where Briseis the Aeolian is featured as a distinctly choral personality, analogous to the personality of Sappho herself in the choral songs attributed to that Aeolian prima donna of a later era.

in a list of parallels to the opening of formula (A) hōs ephat’ eukhomenos… occurring in the last 9 books of the Iliad (with participles after phanai categorizing the speech, here as lament), in the context of analyzing formula (A) and the meaning of eukhesthai