A much closer approximation to the modern ideal of conjugal love than the attachment between Odysseus and Penelope with the “heart of iron,” may be found in the scene describing Hector’s leave-taking of Andromache before he goes out to fight the Greeks, fearing he may never return.  The serving-women inform him that his wife, hearing that the Trojans were hard pressed, had gone in haste to the wall, like unto one frenzied.  He goes to find her and when he arrives at the Skaian gates, she comes running to meet him, together with the nurse, who holds his infant boy on her bosom.  Andromache weeps, recalls to his mind that she had lost her father, mother, and seven brothers, wherefore he is to her a father, mother, brothers, as well as a husband.  “Have pity and abide here upon the tower, lest thou make thy child an orphan and thy wife a widow.”  Though Hector cannot think of shrinking from battle like a coward, he declared that her fate, should the city fall and he be slain, troubles him more than that of his father, mother, and brothers—­the fate of being led into captivity and slavery by a Greek, doomed to carry water and to be pointed at as the former wife of the brave Hector.  He expresses the wish that his boy—­who at first is frightened by the horse-hair crest on his helmet—­may become greater than his father, bringing with him blood-stained spoils from the enemy he has slain, and gladdening his mother’s heart; then caressing his wife with his hand, he begs her not to sorrow overmuch, but to go to her house and see to her own tasks, the loom and the distaff.  Thus he spake, and she departed for her home, oft looking back and letting fall big tears.

This scene, which takes up four pages of the Iliad (VI., 370-502), is the most touching, the most inspired, the most sentimental and modern passage not only in the Homeric poems, but in all Greek literature.  Benecke has aptly remarked (10) that the relation between Hector and Andromache is unparalleled in that literature; and he adds: 

“At the same time, how little really sympathetic to the Greek of the period was this wonderful and unique passage is sufficiently shown by this very fact, that no attempt was ever made to imitate or develop it.  It may sound strange to say so, but in all probability we to-day understand Andromache better than did the Greeks, for whom she was created; better, too, perhaps than did her creator himself.”

Benecke should have written Hector in place of Andromache.  There was no difficulty, even for a Greek, in understanding Andromache.  She had every reason, even from a purely selfish point of view, to dread Hector’s battling with the savage Greeks; for while he lived she was a princess, with all the comforts of life, whereas his fall and the fall of Troy meant her enslavement and a life of misery.  What makes the scene in question so modern is the attitude of Hector—­his dividing his caresses equally between his wife and