Auden's The Shield of Achilles
Is this poem an indictment of Achilles and the Homeric warrior ideal? Its one of my favourite poems and that is how I have always interpreted it. The last two lines in particular - "the strong iron-hearted man-slaying Achilles who would not live long" - as well as the entire second to last stanza seem to express to me Auden's disapproval of Achilles' choice to go for glory over peace. Homer in a sense glorifies war and it is hard not to see it as something noble within the context of the Iliad. In this poem Auden takes perhaps the most beautiful instrument of war ever conceived and paints over it a bleak and horrid picture of what the reality of war is really like.
The thing is that I just read a few other persons' interpretations of the poem and they instead think it to be a condemnation of modern warfare, contrasted with the nobility of ancient war, and not of war itself. I don't see that. I see Auden portraying negatively the Homeric ideal of the greatness of imposing one's power over others, exemplified by Achilles thousands of years ago and still followed by the totalitarian conquerers of the 20th century. Any thoughts?
The Shield of Achilles
W. H. Auden
She looked over his shoulder
For vines and olive trees,
Marble well-governed cities
And ships upon untamed seas,
But there on the shining metal
His hands had put instead
An artificial wilderness
And a sky like lead.
A plain without a feature, bare and brown,
No blade of grass, no sign of neighborhood,
Nothing to eat and nowhere to sit down,
Yet, congregated on its blankness, stood
An unintelligible multitude,
A million eyes, a million boots in line,
Without expression, waiting for a sign.
Out of the air a voice without a face
Proved by statistics that some cause was just
In tones as dry and level as the place:
No one was cheered and nothing was discussed;
Column by column in a cloud of dust
They marched away enduring a belief
Whose logic brought them, somewhere else, to grief.
She looked over his shoulder
For ritual pieties,
White flower-garlanded heifers,
Libation and sacrifice,
But there on the shining metal
Where the altar should have been,
She saw by his flickering forge-light
Quite another scene.
Barbed wire enclosed an arbitrary spot
Where bored officials lounged (one cracked a joke)
And sentries sweated for the day was hot:
A crowd of ordinary decent folk
Watched from without and neither moved nor spoke
As three pale figures were led forth and bound
To three posts driven upright in the ground.
The mass and majesty of this world, all
That carries weight and always weighs the same
Lay in the hands of others; they were small
And could not hope for help and no help came:
What their foes like to do was done, their shame
Was all the worst could wish; they lost their pride
And died as men before their bodies died.
She looked over his shoulder
For athletes at their games,
Men and women in a dance
Moving their sweet limbs
Quick, quick, to music,
But there on the shining shield
His hands had set no dancing-floor
But a weed-choked field.
A ragged urchin, aimless and alone,
Loitered about that vacancy; a bird
Flew up to safety from his well-aimed stone:
That girls are raped, that two boys knife a third,
Were axioms to him, who'd never heard
Of any world where promises were kept,
Or one could weep because another wept.
The thin-lipped armorer,
Hephaestos, hobbled away,
Thetis of the shining breasts
Cried out in dismay
At what the god had wrought
To please her son, the strong
Iron-hearted man-slaying Achilles
Who would not live long.