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Cast portrait: Priam

Reading Troy · cast portrait · released after Iliad XXIV — Priam and Achilles

Cast portrait: Priam

Reading Troy — cast portrait · Priam

This portrait is released the day Priam's arc peaks in the cycle, after Iliad XXIV — Priam and Achilles. Read it as a coda — the full cross-cycle portrait, gathered after the moment.

Priam
Priam

Son of Laomedon; brother of Tithonus and Hesione; husband of Hecuba; father of fifty sons (the cycle gives the number again and again — Hector, Paris, Deïphobus, Helenus, Troilus, Polites, Polydorus, Cassandra and Polyxena among the named) and many daughters. In the Iliad he is in extreme old age, the long-reigning king of a great city in its last year. He sits on the wall of Troy while his sons die in the plain below. The cycle treats him as the bearer of pity itself.

In the Iliad

He is introduced in Book 3 on the Scaean gate among the elders for the teichoscopia: a white-bearded king who treats Helen with grave courtesy ("I do not blame you; I blame the gods who set this war") and is too old to look on the duel his son must fight. He drives back into the city before the swords cross. He returns in Book 22 — on the wall again with Hecuba, watching Achilles run Hector down — and gives the cycle's most extreme paternal speech: he begs Hector to come inside the walls, he describes in advance the dishonour of his own death and the slaughter of his children, and when Hector falls he tears at his face and dirties his white hair with dung in the open street. In Book 24, Iris brings him a message from Zeus and he goes — alone but for an old herald, with a wagon-load of ransom — through the Greek camp at night, guided by Hermes in the form of a young Myrmidon, into Achilles' tent. He kneels and kisses the hands that killed his sons. The scene is the Iliad's endpoint and the cycle's high-water mark of moral imagination: two men who have lost everything weep together, eat together, sleep, and then Priam returns at dawn with the body of his son.

In the Posthomerica

He is the old king who outlasts every defence. In Book 1 he mourns Hector still; in Book 2 he sends out Memnon; in Book 6 he greets Eurypylus; in Book 8 he buries Eurypylus too. By Book 13 — the sack — he is in his palace courtyard at the altar of Zeus Herkeios (the household-god), trying to take refuge among the household women. Neoptolemus, son of Achilles, finds him there. Quintus follows the older tradition: Neoptolemus drags Priam by the white hair from the altar and cuts him down across it. The cycle's portrait of butchery at the altar enters here.

In the Aeneid

Aeneas tells the same scene to Dido in Book 2 — and Virgil/Dryden makes it the Aeneid's most resonant single death. Polites, Priam's youngest son, is killed at the old king's feet by Pyrrhus (Neoptolemus's Roman name). Priam, weak in his armour but still a king, hurls one feeble spear that bounces off the boy's shield, and Pyrrhus drags him through his son's blood to the altar and beheads him. Dryden's couplet: "Headless he lay; the trunk a nameless thing, / On the sea-shore the once-imperial king." The death of Priam becomes, in the Aeneid, the foundational image of Greek brutality and the founding wound of Rome.

Across the cycle

He has no role in the Odyssey — by the time of that poem he is dead and his city ash — but his name surfaces in Book 8 in Demodocus's song of the Sack, and in Book 11 when Odysseus meets Agamemnon in the underworld. Across the cycle Priam is the cycle's portrait of patriarchal old age destroyed: the long-reigning king whose extreme courtesy and extreme paternal grief frame the Iliad's last book, and whose murder at his own altar is the Aeneid's sharpest indictment of the men who took Troy. Scholarly conversation centres on the deliberate symmetry of the Iliad's ending — the wrathful son of the goddess and the white-bearded king sharing a meal — and on the deliberate counter-symmetry of the Aeneid's second book: the son of that goddess, Pyrrhus, slaughtering that same king at his altar. The cycle gives Priam both: the man whose extreme suffering moved Achilles to pity, and the man whose extreme suffering Achilles' own son refused to feel.


This post is part of Reading Troy, a slow daily readalong through the four canonical Trojan-cycle epics — Homer's Iliad, Quintus Smyrnaeus's Posthomerica, Virgil's Aeneid, and Homer's Odyssey — read in chronological narrative order.