diff options
Diffstat (limited to '10096-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 10096-0.txt | 3213 |
1 files changed, 3213 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/10096-0.txt b/10096-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1d4edaf --- /dev/null +++ b/10096-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3213 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10096 *** + +THE TROJAN WOMEN OF EURIPIDES + + + +TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH RHYMING VERSE WITH EXPLANATORY NOTES BY + +GILBERT MURRAY, LL.D., D.LITT. + +REGIUS PROFESSOR OF GREEK IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD + + + +1915 + + + +THE TROJAN WOMEN + + +In his clear preface, Gilbert Murray says with truth that _The Trojan +Women_, valued by the usage of the stage, is not a perfect play. "It is +only the crying of one of the great wrongs of the world wrought into +music." Yet it is one of the greater dramas of the elder world. In one +situation, with little movement, with few figures, it flashes out a +great dramatic lesson, the infinite pathos of a successful wrong. It has +in it the very soul of the tragic. It even goes beyond the limited +tragic, and hints that beyond the defeat may come a greater glory than +will be the fortune of the victors. And thus through its pity and terror +it purifies our souls to thoughts of peace. + +Great art has no limits of locality or time. Its tidings are timeless, +and its messages are universal. _The Trojan Women_ was first performed +in 415 B.C., from a story of the siege of Troy which even then was +ancient history. But the pathos of it is as modern to us as it was to +the Athenians. The terrors of war have not changed in three thousand +years. Euripides had that to say of war which we have to say of it +to-day, and had learned that which we are even now learning, that when +most triumphant it brings as much wretchedness to the victors as to the +vanquished. In this play the great conquest "seems to be a great joy and +is in truth a great misery." The tragedy of war has in no essential +altered. The god Poseidon mourns over Troy as he might over the cities +of to-day, when he cries: + + +"How are ye blind, +Ye treaders down of cities, ye that cast +Temples to desolation, and lay waste +Tombs, the untrodden sanctuaries where lie +The ancient dead; yourselves so soon to die!" + + +To the cities of this present day might the prophetess Cassandra speak +her message: + + +"Would ye be wise, ye Cities, fly from war! +Yet if war come, there is a crown in death +For her that striveth well and perisheth +Unstained: to die in evil were the stain!" + + +A throb of human sympathy as if with one of our sisters of to-day comes +to us at the end, when the city is destroyed and its queen would throw +herself, living, into its flames. To be of the action of this play the +imagination needs not to travel back over three thousand years of +history. It can simply leap a thousand leagues of ocean. + +If ever wars are to be ended, the imagination of man must end them. To +the common mind, in spite of all its horrors, there is still something +glorious in war. Preachers have preached against it in vain; economists +have argued against its wastefulness in vain. The imagination of a great +poet alone can finally show to the imagination of the world that even +the glories of war are an empty delusion. Euripides shows us, as the +centre of his drama, women battered and broken by inconceivable +torture--the widowed Hecuba, Andromache with her child dashed to death, +Cassandra ravished and made mad--yet does he show that theirs are the +unconquered and unconquerable spirits. The victorious men, flushed with +pride, have remorse and mockery dealt out to them by those they fought +for, and go forth to unpitied death. Never surely can a great tragedy +seem more real to us, or purge our souls more truly of the unreality of +our thoughts and feelings concerning vital issues, than can The Trojan +Women at this moment of the history of the world. + +FRANCIS HOVEY STODDARD. + +_May the first, 1915_. + + + + +INTRODUCTORY NOTE + + +Judged by common standards, the Troädes is far from a perfect play; it +is scarcely even a good play. It is an intense study of one great +situation, with little plot, little construction, little or no relief or +variety. The only movement of the drama is a gradual extinguishing of +all the familiar lights of human life, with, perhaps, at the end, a +suggestion that in the utterness of night, when all fears of a possible +worse thing are passed, there is in some sense peace and even glory. But +the situation itself has at least this dramatic value, that it is +different from what it seems. + +The consummation of a great conquest, a thing celebrated in paeans and +thanksgivings, the very height of the day-dreams of unregenerate man--it +seems to be a great joy, and it is in truth a great misery. It is +conquest seen when the thrill of battle is over, and nothing remains but +to wait and think. We feel in the background the presence of the +conquerors, sinister and disappointed phantoms; of the conquered men, +after long torment, now resting in death. But the living drama for +Euripides lay in the conquered women. It is from them that he has named +his play and built up his scheme of parts: four figures clearly lit and +heroic, the others in varying grades of characterisation, nameless and +barely articulate, mere half-heard voices of an eternal sorrow. + +Indeed, the most usual condemnation of the play is not that it is dull, +but that it is too harrowing; that scene after scene passes beyond the +due limits of tragic art. There are points to be pleaded against this +criticism. The very beauty of the most fearful scenes, in spite of their +fearfulness, is one; the quick comfort of the lyrics is another, falling +like a spell of peace when the strain is too hard to bear (cf. p. 89). +But the main defence is that, like many of the greatest works of art, +the _Troädes_ is something more than art. It is also a prophecy, a +bearing of witness. And the prophet, bound to deliver his message, walks +outside the regular ways of the artist. + +For some time before the _Troädes_ was produced, Athens, now entirely in +the hands of the War Party, had been engaged in an enterprise which, +though on military grounds defensible, was bitterly resented by the more +humane minority, and has been selected by Thucydides as the great +crucial crime of the war. She had succeeded in compelling the neutral +Dorian island of Mêlos to take up arms against her, and after a long +siege had conquered the quiet and immemorially ancient town, massacred +the men and sold the women and children into slavery. Mêlos fell in the +autumn of 416 B.C. The _Troädes_ was produced in the following spring. +And while the gods of the prologue were prophesying destruction at sea +for the sackers of Troy, the fleet of the sackers of Mêlos, flushed with +conquest and marked by a slight but unforgettable taint of sacrilege, +was actually preparing to set sail for its fatal enterprise against +Sicily. + +Not, of course, that we have in the _Troädes_ a case of political +allusion. Far from it. Euripides does not mean Mêlos when he says Troy, +nor mean Alcibiades' fleet when he speaks of Agamemnon's. But he writes +under the influence of a year which to him, as to Thucydides, had been +filled full of indignant pity and of dire foreboding. This tragedy is +perhaps, in European literature, the first great expression of the +spirit of pity for mankind exalted into a moving principle; a principle +which has made the most precious, and possibly the most destructive, +elements of innumerable rebellions, revolutions, and martyrdoms, and of +at least two great religions. + +Pity is a rebel passion. Its hand is against the strong, against the +organised force of society, against conventional sanctions and accepted +Gods. It is the Kingdom of Heaven within us fighting against the brute +powers of the world; and it is apt to have those qualities of unreason, +of contempt for the counting of costs and the balancing of sacrifices, +of recklessness, and even, in the last resort, of ruthlessness, which so +often mark the paths of heavenly things and the doings of the children +of light. It brings not peace, but a sword. + +So it was with Euripides. The _Troädes_ itself has indeed almost no +fierceness and singularly little thought of revenge. It is only the +crying of one of the great wrongs of the world wrought into music, as it +were, and made beautiful by "the most tragic of the poets." But its +author lived ever after in a deepening atmosphere of strife and even of +hatred, down to the day when, "because almost all in Athens rejoiced at +his suffering," he took his way to the remote valleys of Macedon to +write the _Bacchae_ and to die. + +G. M. + + + + +THE TROJAN WOMEN + + +CHARACTERS IN THE PLAY + + +THE GOD POSEIDON. + +THE GODDESS PALLAS ATHENA. + +HECUBA, _Queen of Troy, wife of Priam, mother of Hector and Paris_. + +CASSANDRA, _daughter of Hecuba, a prophetess_. + +ANDROMACHE, _wife of Hector, Prince of Troy_. + +HELEN, _wife of Menelaus, King of Sparta; carried off by Paris, Prince +of Troy_. + +TALTHYBIUS, _Herald of the Greeks_. + +MENELAUS, _King of Sparta, and, together with his brother Agamemnon, +General of the Greeks_. + +SOLDIERS ATTENDANT ON TALTHYBIUS AND MENELAUS. + +CHORUS OF CAPTIVE TROJAN WOMEN, YOUNG AND OLD, MAIDEN AND MARRIED. + +_The Troädes was first acted in the year_ 415 B.C. "_The first prize was +won by Xenocles, whoever he may have been, with the four plays Oedipus, +Lycaon, Bacchae and Athamas, a Satyr-play. The second by Euripides with +the Alexander, Palamêdês, Troädes and Sisyphus, a Satyr-play_."--AELIAN, +_Varia Historia_, ii. 8. + + + + +THE TROJAN WOMEN + + +_The scene represents a battlefield, a few days after the battle. At the +back are the walls of Troy, partially ruined. In front of them, to right +and left, are some huts, containing those of the Captive Women who have +been specially set apart for the chief Greek leaders. At one side some +dead bodies of armed men are visible. In front a tall woman with white +hair is lying on the ground asleep._ + +_It is the dusk of early dawn, before sunrise. The figure of the god _ +POSEIDON _ is dimly seen before the walls._ + +POSEIDON.[1] + +Up from Aegean caverns, pool by pool +Of blue salt sea, where feet most beautiful +Of Nereid maidens weave beneath the foam +Their long sea-dances, I, their lord, am come, +Poseidon of the Sea. 'Twas I whose power, +With great Apollo, builded tower by tower +These walls of Troy; and still my care doth stand +True to the ancient People of my hand; +Which now as smoke is perished, in the shock +Of Argive spears. Down from Parnassus' rock +The Greek Epeios came, of Phocian seed, +And wrought by Pallas' mysteries a Steed +Marvellous[2], big with arms; and through my wall +It passed, a death-fraught image magical. + The groves are empty and the sanctuaries +Run red with blood. Unburied Priam lies +By his own hearth, on God's high altar-stair, +And Phrygian gold goes forth and raiment rare +To the Argive ships; and weary soldiers roam +Waiting the wind that blows at last for home, +For wives and children, left long years away, +Beyond the seed's tenth fullness and decay, +To work this land's undoing. + + And for me, +Since Argive Hera conquereth, and she +Who wrought with Hera to the Phrygians' woe, +Pallas, behold, I bow mine head and go +Forth from great Ilion[3] and mine altars old. +When a still city lieth in the hold +Of Desolation, all God's spirit there +Is sick and turns from worship.--Hearken where +The ancient River waileth with a voice +Of many women, portioned by the choice +Of war amid new lords, as the lots leap +For Thessaly, or Argos, or the steep +Of Theseus' Rock. And others yet there are, +High women, chosen from the waste of war +For the great kings, behind these portals hid; +And with them that Laconian Tyndarid[4], +Helen, like them a prisoner and a prize. + And this unhappy one--would any eyes +Gaze now on Hecuba? Here at the Gates +She lies 'mid many tears for many fates +Of wrong. One child beside Achilles' grave +In secret slain[5], Polyxena the brave, +Lies bleeding. Priam and his sons are gone; +And, lo, Cassandra[6], she the Chosen One, +Whom Lord Apollo spared to walk her way +A swift and virgin spirit, on this day +Lust hath her, and she goeth garlanded +A bride of wrath to Agamemnon's bed. + +[_He turns to go; and another divine Presence +becomes visible in the dusk. It is the +goddess_ PALLAS ATHENA. + + O happy long ago, farewell, farewell, +Ye shining towers and mine old citadel; +Broken by Pallas[7], Child of God, or still +Thy roots had held thee true. + +PALLAS. + + Is it the will +Of God's high Brother, to whose hand is given +Great power of old, and worship of all Heaven, +To suffer speech from one whose enmities +This day are cast aside? + +POSEIDON. + + His will it is: +Kindred and long companionship withal, +Most high Athena, are things magical. + +PALLAS. + +Blest be thy gentle mood!--Methinks I see +A road of comfort here, for thee and me. + +POSEIDON. + +Thou hast some counsel of the Gods, or word +Spoken of Zeus? Or is it tidings heard +From some far Spirit? + +PALLAS. + + For this Ilion's sake, +Whereon we tread, I seek thee, and would make +My hand as thine. + +POSEIDON. + + Hath that old hate and deep +Failed, where she lieth in her ashen sleep? +Thou pitiest her? + +PALLAS. + + Speak first; wilt thou be one +In heart with me and hand till all be done? + +POSEIDON. + +Yea; but lay bare thy heart. For this land's sake +Thou comest, not for Hellas? + +PALLAS. + + I would make +Mine ancient enemies laugh for joy, and bring +On these Greek ships a bitter homecoming. + +POSEIDON. + +Swift is thy spirit's path, and strange withal, +And hot thy love and hate, where'er they fall. + +PALLAS. + +A deadly wrong they did me, yea within +Mine holy place: thou knowest? + +POSEIDON. + + I know the sin +Of Ajax[8], when he cast Cassandra down.... + +PALLAS. + +And no man rose and smote him; not a frown +Nor word from all the Greeks! + +POSEIDON. + + And 'twas thine hand +That gave them Troy! + +PALLAS. + + Therefore with thee I stand +To smite them. + +POSEIDON. + + All thou cravest, even now +Is ready in mine heart. What seekest thou? + +PALLAS. + +An homecoming that striveth ever more +And cometh to no home. + +POSEIDON. + + Here on the shore +Wouldst hold them or amid mine own salt foam? + +PALLAS. + +When the last ship hath bared her sail for home! + Zeus shall send rain, long rain and flaw of driven +Hail, and a whirling darkness blown from heaven; +To me his levin-light he promiseth +O'er ships and men, for scourging and hot death: +Do thou make wild the roads of the sea, and steep +With war of waves and yawning of the deep, +Till dead men choke Euboea's curling bay. +So Greece shall dread even in an after day +My house, nor scorn the Watchers of strange lands! + +POSEIDON. + +I give thy boon unbartered. These mine hands +Shall stir the waste Aegean; reefs that cross +The Delian pathways, jag-torn Myconos, +Scyros and Lemnos, yea, and storm-driven +Caphêreus with the bones of drownèd men +Shall glut him.--Go thy ways, and bid the Sire +Yield to thine hand the arrows of his fire. +Then wait thine hour, when the last ship shall wind +Her cable coil for home! [_Exit_ PALLAS. + + How are ye blind, +Ye treaders down of cities, ye that cast +Temples to desolation, and lay waste +Tombs, the untrodden sanctuaries where lie +The ancient dead; yourselves so soon to die! + +[_Exit_ POSEIDON. + + * * * * * + +_The day slowly dawns_: HECUBA _wakes_. + +HECUBA. + +Up from the earth, O weary head! + This is not Troy, about, above-- + Not Troy, nor we the lords thereof. +Thou breaking neck, be strengthenèd! +Endure and chafe not. The winds rave + And falter. Down the world's wide road, + Float, float where streams the breath of God; +Nor turn thy prow to breast the wave. + +Ah woe!... For what woe lacketh here? + My children lost, my land, my lord. + O thou great wealth of glory, stored +Of old in Ilion, year by year + +We watched ... and wert thou nothingness? + What is there that I fear to say? + And yet, what help?... Ah, well-a-day, +This ache of lying, comfortless + +And haunted! Ah, my side, my brow + And temples! All with changeful pain + My body rocketh, and would fain +Move to the tune of tears that flow: +For tears are music too, and keep +A song unheard in hearts that weep. + [_She rises and gazes towards the Greek ships far off on the shore._ + +O ships, O crowding faces + Of ships[9], O hurrying beat + Of oars as of crawling feet, +How found ye our holy places? +Threading the narrows through, + Out from the gulfs of the Greek, +Out to the clear dark blue, + With hate ye came and with joy, +And the noise of your music flew, + Clarion and pipe did shriek, +As the coilèd cords ye threw, + Held in the heart of Troy! + +What sought ye then that ye came? + A woman, a thing abhorred: + A King's wife that her lord +Hateth: and Castor's[10] shame + Is hot for her sake, and the reeds +Of old Eurôtas stir +With the noise of the name of her. +She slew mine ancient King, +The Sower of fifty Seeds[11], + And cast forth mine and me, + As shipwrecked men, that cling + To a reef in an empty sea. + +Who am I that I sit + Here at a Greek king's door, +Yea, in the dust of it? + A slave that men drive before, +A woman that hath no home, + Weeping alone for her dead; + A low and bruisèd head, +And the glory struck therefrom. +[_She starts up from her solitary brooding, and calls to the other +Trojan Women in the huts._ + +O Mothers of the Brazen Spear, + And maidens, maidens, brides of shame, + Troy is a smoke, a dying flame; +Together we will weep for her: +I call ye as a wide-wing'd bird + Calleth the children of her fold, + +To cry, ah, not the cry men heard + In Ilion, not the songs of old, +That echoed when my hand was true + On Priam's sceptre, and my feet + Touched on the stone one signal beat, + And out the Dardan music rolled; +And Troy's great Gods gave ear thereto. + +[_The door of one of the huts on the right +opens, and the Women steal out severally, +startled and afraid_. + +FIRST WOMAN. + +[_Strophe_ I. + +How say'st thou? Whither moves thy cry, + Thy bitter cry? Behind our door + We heard thy heavy heart outpour +Its sorrow: and there shivered by + Fear and a quick sob shaken +From prisoned hearts that shall be free no more! + +HECUBA. + +Child, 'tis the ships that stir upon the shore.... + +SECOND WOMAN. + + The ships, the ships awaken! + +THIRD WOMAN. + +Dear God, what would they? Overseas +Bear me afar to strange cities? + +HECUBA. + +Nay, child, I know not. Dreams are these, + Fears of the hope-forsaken. + +FIRST WOMAN. + +Awake, O daughters of affliction, wake +And learn your lots! Even now the Argives break + Their camp for sailing! + +HECUBA. + +Ah, not Cassandra! Wake not her + Whom God hath maddened, lest the foe +Mock at her dreaming. Leave me clear + From that one edge of woe. +O Troy, my Troy, thou diest here + Most lonely; and most lonely we + The living wander forth from thee, + And the dead leave thee wailing! + +[_One of the huts on the left is now open, and the rest of the_ CHORUS +_come out severally. Their number eventually amounts to fifteen_. + +FOURTH WOMAN. + +[_Antistrophe_ I. + +Out of the tent of the Greek king + I steal, my Queen, with trembling breath: + What means thy call? Not death; not death! +They would not slay so low a thing! + +FIFTH WOMAN. + + O, 'tis the ship-folk crying +To deck the galleys: and we part, we part! + +HECUBA. + +Nay, daughter: take the morning to thine heart. + +FIFTH WOMAN. + + My heart with dread is dying! + +SIXTH WOMAN. + +An herald from the Greek hath come! + +FIFTH WOMAN. + +How have they cast me, and to whom +A bondmaid? + +HECUBA. + +Peace, child: wait thy doom. +Our lots are near the trying. + +FOURTH WOMAN. + +Argos, belike, or Phthia shall it be, +Or some lone island of the tossing sea, + Far, far from Troy? + +HECUBA. + +And I the agèd, where go I, + A winter-frozen bee, a slave +Death-shapen, as the stones that lie + Hewn on a dead man's grave: +The children of mine enemy +To foster, or keep watch before +The threshold of a master's door, + I that was Queen in Troy! + +A WOMAN TO ANOTHER. + +[_Strophe 2_. + +And thou, what tears can tell thy doom? + +THE OTHER. + +The shuttle still shall flit and change +Beneath my fingers, but the loom, + Sister, be strange. + +ANOTHER (_wildly_). + +Look, my dead child! My child, my love, +The last look.... + +ANOTHER. + + Oh, there cometh worse. +A Greek's bed in the dark.... + +ANOTHER. + + God curse +That night and all the powers thereof! + +ANOTHER. + +Or pitchers to and fro to bear + To some Pirênê[12] on the hill, + Where the proud water craveth still +Its broken-hearted minister. + +ANOTHER. + +God guide me yet to Theseus' land[13], + The gentle land, the famed afar.... + +ANOTHER. + +But not the hungry foam--Ah, never!-- +Of fierce Eurotas, Helen's river, +To bow to Menelaus' hand, + That wasted Troy with war! + +A WOMAN. + +[_Antistrophe 2_. + +They told us of a land high-born, + Where glimmers round Olympus' roots +A lordly river, red with corn + And burdened fruits. + +ANOTHER. + +Aye, that were next in my desire + To Athens, where good spirits dwell.... + +ANOTHER. + +Or Aetna's breast, the deeps of fire + That front the Tyrian's Citadel: +First mother, she, of Sicily + And mighty mountains: fame hath told + Their crowns of goodness manifold.... + +ANOTHER. + +And, close beyond the narrowing sea, +A sister land, where float enchanted + Ionian summits, wave on wave, +And Crathis of the burning tresses +Makes red the happy vale, and blesses +With gold of fountains spirit-haunted + Homes of true men and brave! + +LEADER. + +But lo, who cometh: and his lips + Grave with the weight of dooms unknown: +A Herald from the Grecian ships. + Swift comes he, hot-foot to be done +And finished. Ah, what bringeth he +Of news or judgment? Slaves are we, + Spoils that the Greek hath won! + +[TALTHYBIUS[14], _followed by some Soldiers, enters from the left_. + +TALTHYBIUS. + +Thou know'st me, Hecuba. Often have I crossed +Thy plain with tidings from the Hellene host. +'Tis I, Talthybius.... Nay, of ancient use +Thou know'st me. And I come to bear thee news. + +HECUBA. + + Ah me, 'tis here, 'tis here, +Women of Troy, our long embosomed fear! + +TALTHYBIUS. + +The lots are cast, if that it was ye feared. + +HECUBA. + + What lord, what land.... Ah me, +Phthia or Thebes, or sea-worn Thessaly? + +TALTHYBIUS. + +Each hath her own. Ye go not in one herd. + +HECUBA. + +Say then what lot hath any? What of joy +Falls, or can fall on any child of Troy? + +TALTHYBIUS. + +I know: but make thy questions severally. + +HECUBA. + + My stricken one must be +Still first. Say how Cassandra's portion lies. + +TALTHYBIUS. + +Chosen from all for Agamemnon's prize! + +HECUBA. + + How, for his Spartan bride +A tirewoman? For Helen's sister's pride? + +TALTHYBIUS. + +Nay, nay: a bride herself, for the King's bed. + +HECUBA. + +The sainted of Apollo? And her own + Prize that God promised +Out of the golden clouds, her virgin crown?... + +TALTHYBIUS. + +He loved her for that same strange holiness. + +HECUBA. + + Daughter, away, away, + Cast all away, +The haunted Keys[15], the lonely stole's array +That kept thy body like a sacred place! + +TALTHYBIUS. + +Is't not rare fortune that the King hath smiled +On such a maid? + +HECUBA. + + What of that other child +Ye reft from me but now? + +TALTHYBIUS (_speaking with some constraint_). + +Polyxena? Or what child meanest thou? + +HECUBA. + +The same. What man now hath her, or what doom? + +TALTHYBIUS. + +She rests apart, to watch Achilles' tomb. + +HECUBA. + +To watch a tomb? My daughter? What is this?... +Speak, Friend? What fashion of the laws of Greece? + +TALTHYBIUS. + +Count thy maid happy! She hath naught of ill +To fear.... + +HECUBA. + + What meanest thou? She liveth still? + +TALTHYBIUS. + +I mean, she hath one toil[16] that holds her free +From all toil else. + +HECUBA. + + What of Andromache, +Wife of mine iron-hearted Hector, where + Journeyeth she? + +TALTHYBIUS. + +Pyrrhus, Achilles' son, hath taken her. + +HECUBA. + + And I, whose slave am I, +The shaken head, the arm that creepeth by, + Staff-crutchèd, like to fall? + +TALTHYBIUS. + +Odysseus[17], Ithaca's king, hath thee for thrall. + +HECUBA. + +Beat, beat the crownless head: +Rend the cheek till the tears run red! +A lying man and a pitiless +Shall be lord of me, a heart full-flown + With scorn of righteousness: +O heart of a beast where law is none, +Where all things change so that lust be fed, +The oath and the deed, the right and the wrong, +Even the hate of the forked tongue: +Even the hate turns and is cold, +False as the love that was false of old! + +O Women of Troy, weep for me! +Yea, I am gone: I am gone my ways. +Mine is the crown of misery, +The bitterest day of all our days. + +LEADER. + +Thy fate thou knowest, Queen: but I know not +What lord of South or North has won my lot. + +TALTHYBIUS. + +Go, seek Cassandra, men! Make your best speed, +That I may leave her with the King, and lead +These others to their divers lords.... Ha, there! +What means that sudden light? Is it the flare +Of torches? + +[_Light is seen shining through the crevices of the second hut on the +right. He moves towards it._ + + Would they fire their prison rooms, +Or how, these dames of Troy?--'Fore God, the dooms +Are known, and now they burn themselves and die[18] +Rather than sail with us! How savagely +In days like these a free neck chafes beneath +Its burden!... Open! Open quick! Such death +Were bliss to them, it may be: but 'twill bring +Much wrath, and leave me shamed before the King! + +HECUBA. + +There is no fire, no peril: 'tis my child, +Cassandra, by the breath of God made wild. + +[_The door opens from within and_ CASSANDRA +_enters, white-robed and wreathed like a +Priestess, a great torch in her hand. She +is singing softly to herself and does not see +the Herald or the scene before her._ + +CASSANDRA. + +Lift, lift it high: [_Strophe_. + Give it to mine hand! + Lo, I bear a flame + Unto God! I praise his name. + I light with a burning brand +This sanctuary. +Blessèd is he that shall wed, + And blessèd, blessèd am I + In Argos: a bride to lie +With a king in a king's bed. + + Hail, O Hymen[19] red, + O Torch that makest one! + Weepest thou, Mother mine own? +Surely thy cheek is pale +With tears, tears that wail + For a land and a father dead. + But I go garlanded: +I am the Bride of Desire: + Therefore my torch is borne-- + Lo, the lifting of morn, +Lo, the leaping of fire!-- + +For thee, O Hymen bright, + For thee, O Moon of the Deep, +So Law hath charged, for the light + Of a maid's last sleep. + +Awake, O my feet, awake: [_Antistrophe_. + Our father's hope is won! + Dance as the dancing skies + Over him, where he lies + Happy beneath the sun!... +Lo, the Ring that I make.... + +[_She makes a circle round her with a torch, and visions appear to her_. + +Apollo!... Ah, is it thou? + O shrine in the laurels cold, + I bear thee still, as of old, +Mine incense! Be near to me now. + +[_She waves the torch as though bearing incense_. + +O Hymen, Hymen fleet: + Quick torch that makest one!... + How? Am I still alone? +Laugh as I laugh, and twine +In the dance, O Mother mine: + Dear feet, be near my feet! + +Come, greet ye Hymen, greet + Hymen with songs of pride: +Sing to him loud and long, +Cry, cry, when the song + Faileth, for joy of the bride! + +O Damsels girt in the gold + Of Ilion, cry, cry ye, +For him that is doomed of old + To be lord of me! + +LEADER. + +O hold the damsel, lest her trancèd feet +Lift her afar, Queen, toward the Hellene fleet! + +HECUBA. + +O Fire, Fire, where men make marriages +Surely thou hast thy lot; but what are these +Thou bringest flashing? Torches savage-wild +And far from mine old dreams.--Alas, my child, +How little dreamed I then of wars or red +Spears of the Greek to lay thy bridal bed! +Give me thy brand; it hath no holy blaze +Thus in thy frenzy flung. Nor all thy days +Nor all thy griefs have changed them yet, nor learned +Wisdom.--Ye women, bear the pine half burned +To the chamber back; and let your drownèd eyes +Answer the music of these bridal cries! + +[_She takes the torch and gives it to one of the women_. + +CASSANDRA. + +O Mother, fill mine hair with happy flowers, +And speed me forth. Yea, if my spirit cowers, +Drive me with wrath! So liveth Loxias[20], +A bloodier bride than ever Helen was +Go I to Agamemnon, Lord most high +Of Hellas!... I shall kill him, mother; I +Shall kill him, and lay waste his house with fire +As he laid ours. My brethren and my sire +Shall win again....[21] + + (_Checking herself_) But part I must let be, +And speak not. Not the axe that craveth me, +And more than me; not the dark wanderings +Of mother-murder that my bridal brings, +And all the House of Atreus down, down, down.... + + Nay, I will show thee. Even now this town +Is happier than the Greeks. I know the power +Of God is on me: but this little hour, +Wilt thou but listen, I will hold him back! + + One love, one woman's beauty, o'er the track +Of hunted Helen, made their myriads fall. +And this their King so wise[22], who ruleth all, +What wrought he? Cast out Love that Hate might feed: +Gave to his brother his own child, his seed +Of gladness, that a woman fled, and fain +To fly for ever, should be turned again! + +So the days waned, and armies on the shore +Of Simois stood and strove and died. Wherefore? +No man had moved their landmarks; none had shook +Their wallèd towns.--And they whom Ares took, +Had never seen their children: no wife came +With gentle arms to shroud the limbs of them +For burial, in a strange and angry earth +Laid dead. And there at home, the same long dearth: +Women that lonely died, and aged men +Waiting for sons that ne'er should turn again, +Nor know their graves, nor pour drink-offerings, +To still the unslakèd dust. These be the things +The conquering Greek hath won! + + But we--what pride, +What praise of men were sweeter?--fighting died +To save our people. And when war was red +Around us, friends upbore the gentle dead +Home, and dear women's heads about them wound +White shrouds, and here they sleep in the old ground +Belovèd. And the rest long days fought on, +Dwelling with wives and children, not alone +And joyless, like these Greeks. + + And Hector's woe, +What is it? He is gone, and all men know +His glory, and how true a heart he bore. +It is the gift the Greek hath brought! Of yore +Men saw him not, nor knew him. Yea, and even +Paris[23] hath loved withal a child of heaven: +Else had his love but been as others are. + Would ye be wise, ye Cities, fly from war! +Yet if war come, there is a crown in death +For her that striveth well and perisheth +Unstained: to die in evil were the stain! +Therefore, O Mother, pity not thy slain, +Nor Troy, nor me, the bride. Thy direst foe +And mine by this my wooing is brought low. + +TALTHYBIUS (_at last breaking through the spell that has held him_). + +I swear, had not Apollo made thee mad, +Not lightly hadst thou flung this shower of bad +Bodings, to speed my General o'er the seas! + 'Fore God, the wisdoms and the greatnesses +Of seeming, are they hollow all, as things +Of naught? This son of Atreus, of all kings +Most mighty, hath so bowed him to the love +Of this mad maid, and chooseth her above +All women! By the Gods, rude though I be, +I would not touch her hand! + + Look thou; I see +Thy lips are blind, and whatso words they speak, +Praises of Troy or shamings of the Greek, +I cast to the four winds! Walk at my side +In peace!... And heaven content him of his bride! + + [_He moves as though to go, but turns to_ HECUBA, _and speaks more +gently_. + +And thou shalt follow to Odysseus' host +When the word comes. 'Tis a wise queen[24] thou + go'st +To serve, and gentle: so the Ithacans say. + +CASSANDRA (_seeing for the first time the Herald and all the scene_). + +How fierce a slave!... O Heralds, Heralds! + Yea, +Voices of Death[25]; and mists are over them +Of dead men's anguish, like a diadem, +These weak abhorred things that serve the hate +Of kings and peoples!... + + To Odysseus' gate +My mother goeth, say'st thou? Is God's word +As naught, to me in silence ministered, +That in this place she dies?[26]... (_To herself_) No + more; no more! +Why should I speak the shame of them, before +They come?... Little he knows, that hard-beset +Spirit, what deeps of woe await him yet; +Till all these tears of ours and harrowings +Of Troy, by his, shall be as golden things. +Ten years behind ten years athwart his way +Waiting: and home, lost and unfriended.... + + Nay: +Why should Odysseus' labours vex my breath? +On; hasten; guide me to the house of Death, +To lie beside my bridegroom!... + + Thou Greek King, +Who deem'st thy fortune now so high a thing, +Thou dust of the earth, a lowlier bed I see, +In darkness, not in light, awaiting thee: +And with thee, with thee ... there, where yawneth + plain +A rift of the hills, raging with winter rain, +Dead ... and out-cast ... and naked.... It is I +Beside my bridegroom: and the wild beasts cry, +And ravin on God's chosen! + +[_She clasps her hands to her brow and feels the +wreaths._ + + O, ye wreaths! +Ye garlands of my God, whose love yet breathes +About me, shapes of joyance mystical, +Begone! I have forgot the festival, +Forgot the joy. Begone! I tear ye, so, +From off me!... Out on the swift winds they go. +With flesh still clean I give them back to thee, +Still white, O God, O light that leadest me! + +[_Turning upon the Herald. + +Where lies the galley? Whither shall I tread? +See that your watch be set, your sail be spread +The wind comes quick[27]! Three Powers--mark me, + thou!-- +There be in Hell, and one walks with thee now! + Mother, farewell, and weep not! O my sweet +City, my earth-clad brethren, and thou great +Sire that begat us, but a space, ye Dead, +And I am with you, yea, with crowned head +I come, and shining from the fires that feed +On these that slay us now, and all their seed! + +[_She goes out, followed by Talthybius and the Soldiers_ Hecuba, _after +waiting for an instant motionless, falls to the ground._ + +LEADER OF CHORUS. + +The Queen, ye Watchers! See, she falls, she falls, +Rigid without a word! O sorry thralls, +Too late! And will ye leave her downstricken, +A woman, and so old? Raise her again! + +[_Some women go to HECUBA, but she refuses their aid and speaks without +rising._ + +HECUBA. + +Let lie ... the love we seek not is no love.... +This ruined body! Is the fall thereof +Too deep for all that now is over me +Of anguish, and hath been, and yet shall be? +Ye Gods.... Alas! Why call on things so weak +For aid? Yet there is something that doth seek, +Crying, for God, when one of us hath woe. +O, I will think of things gone long ago +And weave them to a song, like one more tear +In the heart of misery.... All kings we were; +And I must wed a king. And sons I brought +My lord King, many sons ... nay, that were naught; +But high strong princes, of all Troy the best. +Hellas nor Troäs nor the garnered East +Held such a mother! And all these things beneath +The Argive spear I saw cast down in death, +And shore these tresses at the dead men's feet. + Yea, and the gardener of my garden great, +It was not any noise of him nor tale +I wept for; these eyes saw him, when the pale +Was broke, and there at the altar Priam fell +Murdered, and round him all his citadel +Sacked. And my daughters, virgins of the fold, +Meet to be brides of mighty kings, behold, +'Twas for the Greek I bred them! All are gone; +And no hope left, that I shall look upon +Their faces any more, nor they on mine. + And now my feet tread on the utmost line: +An old, old slave-woman, I pass below +Mine enemies' gates; and whatso task they know +For this age basest, shall be mine; the door, +Bowing, to shut and open.... I that bore +Hector!... and meal to grind, and this racked head +Bend to the stones after a royal bed; +Tom rags about me, aye, and under them +Tom flesh; 'twill make a woman sick for shame! +Woe's me; and all that one man's arms might hold +One woman, what long seas have o'er me rolled +And roll for ever!... O my child, whose white +Soul laughed amid the laughter of God's light, +Cassandra, what hands and how strange a day +Have loosed thy zone! And thou, Polyxena, +Where art thou? And my sons? Not any seed +Of man nor woman now shall help my need. + Why raise me any more? What hope have I +To hold me? Take this slave that once trod high +In Ilion; cast her on her bed of clay +Rock-pillowed, to lie down, and pass away +Wasted with tears. And whatso man they call +Happy, believe not ere the last day fall! + + * * * * * + +CHORUS[28]. [_Strophe._ + + O Muse, be near me now, and make + A strange song for Ilion's sake, +Till a tone of tears be about mine ears + And out of my lips a music break + For Troy, Troy, and the end of the years: + When the wheels of the Greek above me pressed, + And the mighty horse-hoofs beat my breast; + And all around were the Argive spears +A towering Steed of golden rein-- + O gold without, dark steel within!-- +Ramped in our gates; and all the plain + Lay silent where the Greeks had been. +And a cry broke from all the folk +Gathered above on Ilion's rock: +"Up, up, O fear is over now! + To Pallas, who hath saved us living, +To Pallas bear this victory-vow!" +Then rose the old man from his room, +The merry damsel left her loom, +And each bound death about his brow + With minstrelsy and high thanksgiving! + + [_Antistrophe._ + + O, swift were all in Troy that day, + And girt them to the portal-way, +Marvelling at that mountain Thing + Smooth-carven, where the Argives lay, + And wrath, and Ilion's vanquishing: + Meet gift for her that spareth not[29], + Heaven's yokeless Rider. Up they brought + Through the steep gates her offering: + Like some dark ship that climbs the shore + On straining cables, up, where stood + Her marble throne, her hallowed floor, + Who lusted for her people's blood. + +A very weariness of joy +Fell with the evening over Troy: +And lutes of Afric mingled there + With Phrygian songs: and many a maiden, +With white feet glancing light as air, +Made happy music through the gloom: +And fires on many an inward room +All night broad-flashing, flung their glare + On laughing eyes and slumber-laden. + +A MAIDEN. + +I was among the dancers there + To Artemis[30], and glorying sang +Her of the Hills, the Maid most fair, + Daughter of Zeus: and, lo, there rang +A shout out of the dark, and fell + Deathlike from street to street, and made +A silence in the citadel: + And a child cried, as if afraid, +And hid him in his mother's veil. + Then stalked the Slayer from his den, +The hand of Pallas served her well! + O blood, blood of Troy was deep + About the streets and altars then: +And in the wedded rooms of sleep, + Lo, the desolate dark alone, + And headless things, men stumbled on. + +And forth, lo, the women go, +The crown of War, the crown of Woe, +To bear the children of the foe + And weep, weep, for Ilion! + + * * * * * + +[_As the song ceases a chariot is seen approaching from the town, laden +with spoils. On it sits a mourning Woman with a child in her arms._ + +LEADER. + + Lo, yonder on the heapèd crest + Of a Greek wain, Andromachê[31], + As one that o'er an unknown sea +Tosseth; and on her wave-borne breast +Her loved one clingeth, Hector's child, + Astyanax.... O most forlorn + Of women, whither go'st thou, borne +'Mid Hector's bronzen arms, and piled +Spoils of the dead, and pageantry + Of them that hunted Ilion down? + Aye, richly thy new lord shall crown +The mountain shrines of Thessaly! + +ANDROMACHE + [_Strophe I._ + +Forth to the Greek I go, + Driven as a beast is driven. + +HEC. Woe, woe! + +AND. Nay, mine is woe: + Woe to none other given, + And the song and the crown therefor! + +HEC. O Zeus! + +AND. He hates thee sore! + +HEC. Children! + +AND. No more, no more + To aid thee: their strife is striven! + +HECUBA. + [_Antistrophe I._ + + Troy, Troy is gone! + +AND. Yea, and her treasure parted. + +HEC. Gone, gone, mine own + Children, the noble-hearted! + +AND. Sing sorrow.... + +HEC. For me, for me! + +AND. Sing for the Great City, + That falleth, falleth to be + A shadow, a fire departed. + +ANDROMACHE. + +[_Strophe 2._ + +Come to me, O my lover! + +HEC. The dark shroudeth him over, + My flesh, woman, not thine, not thine! + +AND. Make of thine arms my cover! + +HECUBA. + +[_Antistrophe 2._ + +O thou whose wound was deepest, +Thou that my children keepest, +Priam, Priam, O age-worn King, +Gather me where thou sleepest. + +ANDROMACHE (_her hands upon her heart_). + +[_Strophe 3._ + +O here is the deep of desire, + +HEC. (How? And is this not woe?) + +AND. For a city burned with fire; + +HEC. (It beateth, blow on blow.) + +AND. God's wrath for Paris, thy son, that he died not long ago: + + Who sold for his evil love + Troy and the towers thereof: + Therefore the dead men lie + Naked, beneath the eye + Of Pallas, and vultures croak + And flap for joy: + So Love hath laid his yoke + On the neck of Troy! + +HECUBA. + +[_Antistrophe 3._ + +O mine own land, my home, + +AND. (I weep for thee, left forlorn,) + +HEC. See'st thou what end is come? + +AND. (And the house where my babes were born.) + +HEC. A desolate Mother we leave, O children, a City of scorn: + + Even as the sound of a song[32] + Left by the way, but long + Remembered, a tune of tears + Falling where no man hears, + In the old house, as rain, + For things loved of yore: + But the dead hath lost his pain + And weeps no more. + +LEADER. + +How sweet are tears to them in bitter stress, +And sorrow, and all the songs of heaviness. + +ANDROMACHE[33]. + +Mother of him of old, whose mighty spear +Smote Greeks like chaff, see'st thou what things are + here? + +HECUBA. + +I see God's hand, that buildeth a great crown +For littleness, and hath cast the mighty down. + +ANDROMACHE. + +I and my babe are driven among the droves +Of plundered cattle. O, when fortune moves +So swift, the high heart like a slave beats low. + +HECUBA. + +'Tis fearful to be helpless. Men but now +Have taken Cassandra, and I strove in vain. + +ANDROMACHE. + +Ah, woe is me; hath Ajax come again? +But other evil yet is at thy gate. + +HECUBA. + +Nay, Daughter, beyond number, beyond weight +My evils are! Doom raceth against doom. + +ANDROMACHE. + +Polyxena across Achilles' tomb +Lies slain, a gift flung to the dreamless dead. + +HECUBA. + +My sorrow!... 'Tis but what Talthybius said: +So plain a riddle, and I read it not. + +ANDROMACHE. + +I saw her lie, and stayed this chariot; +And raiment wrapt on her dead limbs, and beat +My breast for her. + +HECUBA (_to herself_). + + O the foul sin of it! +The wickedness! My child. My child! Again +I cry to thee. How cruelly art thou slain! + +ANDROMACHE. + +She hath died her death, and howso dark it be, +Her death is sweeter than my misery. + +HECUBA. + +Death cannot be what Life is, Child; the cup +Of Death is empty, and Life hath always hope. + +ANDROMACHE. + +O Mother, having ears, hear thou this word +Fear-conquering, till thy heart as mine be stirred +With joy. To die is only not to be; +And better to be dead than grievously +Living. They have no pain, they ponder not +Their own wrong. But the living that is brought +From joy to heaviness, his soul doth roam, +As in a desert, lost, from its old home. +Thy daughter lieth now as one unborn, +Dead, and naught knowing of the lust and scorn +That slew her. And I ... long since I drew my + bow +Straight at the heart of good fame; and I know +My shaft hit; and for that am I the more +Fallen from peace. All that men praise us for, +I loved for Hector's sake, and sought to win. +I knew that alway, be there hurt therein +Or utter innocence, to roam abroad +Hath ill report for women; so I trod +Down the desire thereof, and walked my way +In mine own garden. And light words and gay +Parley of women never passed my door. +The thoughts of mine own heart ... I craved no more.... + Spoke with me, and I was happy. Constantly +I brought fair silence and a tranquil eye +For Hector's greeting, and watched well the way +Of living, where to guide and where obey. + And, lo! some rumour of this peace, being gone +Forth to the Greek, hath cursed me. Achilles' son, +So soon as I was taken, for his thrall +Chose me. I shall do service in the hall +Of them that slew.... How? Shall I thrust aside +Hector's beloved face, and open wide +My heart to this new lord? Oh, I should stand +A traitor to the dead! And if my hand +And flesh shrink from him ... lo, wrath and despite +O'er all the house, and I a slave! + + One night, +One night ... aye, men have said it ... maketh tame +A woman in a man's arms.... O shame, shame! +What woman's lips can so forswear her dead, +And give strange kisses in another's bed? +Why, not a dumb beast, not a colt will run +In the yoke untroubled, when her mate is gone-- +A thing not in God's image, dull, unmoved +Of reason. O my Hector! best beloved, +That, being mine, wast all in all to me, +My prince, my wise one, O my majesty +Of valiance! No man's touch had ever come +Near me, when thou from out my father's home +Didst lead me and make me thine.... And thou art + dead, +And I war-flung to slavery and the bread +Of shame in Hellas, over bitter seas! + What knoweth she of evils like to these, +That dead Polyxena, thou weepest for? +There liveth not in my life any more +The hope that others have. Nor will I tell +The lie to mine own heart, that aught is well +Or shall be well.... Yet, O, to dream were sweet! + +LEADER. + +Thy feet have trod the pathway of my feet, +And thy clear sorrow teacheth me mine own. + +HECUBA. + +Lo, yonder ships: I ne'er set foot on one, +But tales and pictures tell, when over them +Breaketh a storm not all too strong to stem, +Each man strives hard, the tiller gripped, the mast +Manned, the hull baled, to face it: till at last +Too strong breaks the o'erwhelming sea: lo, then +They cease, and yield them up as broken men +To fate and the wild waters. Even so +I in my many sorrows bear me low, +Nor curse, nor strive that other things may be. +The great wave rolled from God hath conquered me. + But, O, let Hector and the fates that fell +On Hector, sleep. Weep for him ne'er so well, +Thy weeping shall not wake him. Honour thou +The new lord that is set above thee now, +And make of thine own gentle piety +A prize to lure his heart. So shalt thou be +A strength to them that love us, and--God knows, +It may be--rear this babe among his foes, +My Hector's child, to manhood and great aid +For Ilion. So her stones may yet be laid +One on another, if God will, and wrought +Again to a city! Ah, how thought to thought +Still beckons!... But what minion of the Greek +Is this that cometh, with new words to speak? + +[_Enter_ TALTHYBIUS _with a band of Soldiers. He comes forward slowly +and with evident disquiet._ + +TALTHYBIUS. + +Spouse of the noblest heart that beat in Troy, +Andromache, hate me not! 'Tis not in joy +I tell thee. But the people and the Kings +Have with one voice.... + +ANDROMACHE. + + What is it? Evil things +Are on thy lips! + +TALTHYBIUS. + + Tis ordered, this child.... Oh, +How can I tell her of it? + +ANDROMACHE. + + Doth he not go +With me, to the same master? + +TALTHYBIUS. + + There is none +In Greece, shall e'er be master of thy son. + +ANDROMACHE. + +How? Will they leave him here to build again +The wreck?... + +TALTHYBIUS. +I know not how to tell thee plain! + +ANDROMACHE. + +Thou hast a gentle heart ... if it be ill, +And not good, news thou hidest! + +TALTHYBIUS. + + 'Tis their will +Thy son shall die.... The whole vile thing is said +Now! + +ANDROMACHE. +Oh, I could have borne mine enemy's bed! + +TALTHYBIUS. + +And speaking in the council of the host +Odysseus hath prevailed-- + +ANDROMACHE. + + O lost! lost! lost!... +Forgive me! It is not easy.... + +TALTHYBIUS. + + ... That the son +Of one so perilous be not fostered on +To manhood-- + +ANDROMACHE. + + God; may his own counsel fall +On his own sons! + +TALTHYBIUS. + + ... But from this crested wall +Of Troy be dashed, and die.... Nay, let the thing +Be done. Thou shalt be wiser so. Nor cling +So fiercely to him. Suffer as a brave +Woman in bitter pain; nor think to have +Strength which thou hast not. Look about thee here! +Canst thou see help, or refuge anywhere? +Thy land is fallen and thy lord, and thou +A prisoner and alone, one woman; how +Canst battle against us? For thine own good +I would not have thee strive, nor make ill blood +And shame about thee.... Ah, nor move thy lips +In silence there, to cast upon the ships +Thy curse! One word of evil to the host, +This babe shall have no burial, but be tossed +Naked.... Ah, peace! And bear as best thou may, +War's fortune. So thou shalt not go thy way +Leaving this child unburied; nor the Greek +Be stern against thee, if thy heart be meek! + +ANDROMACHE (_to the child_). + +Go, die, my best-beloved, my cherished one, +In fierce men's hands, leaving me here alone. +Thy father was too valiant; that is why +They slay thee! Other children, like to die, +Might have been spared for that. But on thy head +His good is turned to evil. + + O thou bed +And bridal; O the joining of the hand, +That led me long ago to Hector's land +To bear, O not a lamb for Grecian swords +To slaughter, but a Prince o'er all the hordes +Enthroned of wide-flung Asia.... Weepest thou? +Nay, why, my little one? Thou canst not know. +And Father will not come; he will not come; +Not once, the great spear flashing, and the tomb +Riven to set thee free! Not one of all +His brethren, nor the might of Ilion's wall. + How shall it be? One horrible spring ... deep, + deep +Down. And thy neck.... Ah God, so cometh + sleep!... +And none to pity thee!... Thou little thing +That curlest in my arms, what sweet scents cling +All round thy neck! Belovèd; can it be +All nothing, that this bosom cradled thee +And fostered; all the weary nights, wherethrough +I watched upon thy sickness, till I grew +Wasted with watching? Kiss me. This one time; +Not ever again. Put up thine arms, and climb +About my neck: now, kiss me, lips to lips.... + O, ye have found an anguish that outstrips +All tortures of the East, ye gentle Greeks! +Why will ye slay this innocent, that seeks +No wrong?... O Helen, Helen, thou ill tree +That Tyndareus planted, who shall deem of thee +As child of Zeus? O, thou hast drawn thy breath +From many fathers, Madness, Hate, red Death, +And every rotting poison of the sky! +Zeus knows thee not, thou vampire, draining dry. +Greece and the world! God hate thee and destroy, +That with those beautiful eyes hast blasted Troy, +And made the far-famed plains a waste withal. + Quick! take him: drag him: cast him from the wall, +If cast ye will! Tear him, ye beasts, be swift! +God hath undone me, and I cannot lift +One hand, one hand, to save my child from death.... +O, hide my head for shame: fling me beneath +Your galleys' benches!... + +[_She swoons: then half-rising._ + + Quick: I must begone +To the bridal.... I have lost my child, my own! + +[_The Soldiers close round her._ + +LEADER. + +O Troy ill-starred; for one strange woman, one +Abhorrèd kiss, how are thine hosts undone! + +TALTHYBIUS (_bending over_ ANDROMACHE _and gradually +taking the Child from her_). + +Come, Child: let be that clasp of love + Outwearied! Walk thy ways with me, +Up to the crested tower, above + Thy father's wall.... Where they decree +Thy soul shall perish.--Hold him: hold!-- + Would God some other man might ply +These charges, one of duller mould, + And nearer to the iron than I! + +HECUBA. + +O Child, they rob us of our own, + Child of my Mighty One outworn: +Ours, ours thou art!--Can aught be done + Of deeds, can aught of pain be borne, +To aid thee?--Lo, this beaten head, +This bleeding bosom! These I spread +As gifts to thee. I can thus much. + Woe, woe for Troy, and woe for thee! +What fall yet lacketh, ere we touch + The last dead deep of misery? + +[_The Child, who has started back from_ TALTHYBIUS, _is taken up by one +of the Soldiers and borne back towards the city, while_ ANDROMACHE _is +set again on the Chariot and driven off towards the ships._ TALTHYBIUS +_goes with the Child._ + + * * * * * + +CHORUS. + +[_Strophe I._ + +In Salamis, filled with the foaming[34] + Of billows and murmur of bees, +Old Telamon stayed from his roaming, + Long ago, on a throne of the seas; +Looking out on the hills olive-laden, + Enchanted, where first from the earth +The grey-gleaming fruit of the Maiden + Athena had birth; +A soft grey crown for a city + Belovèd a City of Light: +Yet he rested not there, nor had pity, + But went forth in his might, +Where Heracles wandered, the lonely + Bow-bearer, and lent him his hands +For the wrecking of one land only, +Of Ilion, Ilion only, + Most hated of lands! + +[_Antistrophe_ I. + +Of the bravest of Hellas he made him + A ship-folk, in wrath for the Steeds, +And sailed the wide waters, and stayed him + At last amid Simoïs' reeds; +And the oars beat slow in the river, + And the long ropes held in the strand, +And he felt for his bow and his quiver, + The wrath of his hand. +And the old king died; and the towers + That Phoebus had builded did fall, +And his wrath, as a flame that devours, + Ran red over all; +And the fields and the woodlands lay blasted, + Long ago. Yea, twice hath the Sire +Uplifted his hand and downcast it +On the wall of the Dardan, downcast it + As a sword and as fire. + +[Strophe 2. + +In vain, all in vain, + O thou 'mid the wine-jars golden + That movest in delicate joy, + Ganymêdês, child of Troy, +The lips of the Highest drain + The cup in thine hand upholden: +And thy mother, thy mother that bore thee, + Is wasted with fire and torn; + And the voice of her shores is heard, + Wild, as the voice of a bird, +For lovers and children before thee + Crying, and mothers outworn. +And the pools of thy bathing[35] are perished, + And the wind-strewn ways of thy feet: +Yet thy face as aforetime is cherished +Of Zeus, and the breath of it sweet; +Yea, the beauty of Calm is upon it +In houses at rest and afar. +But thy land, He hath wrecked and o'erthrown it +In the wailing of war. + +[_Antistrophe_ 2. + +O Love, ancient Love, +Of old to the Dardan given; +Love of the Lords of the Sky; +How didst thou lift us high +In Ilion, yea, and above +All cities, as wed with heaven! +For Zeus--O leave it unspoken: +But alas for the love of the Morn; +Morn of the milk-white wing, +The gentle, the earth-loving, +That shineth on battlements broken +In Troy, and a people forlorn! + And, lo, in her bowers Tithônus, +Our brother, yet sleeps as of old: +O, she too hath loved us and known us, +And the Steeds of her star, flashing gold, +Stooped hither and bore him above us; +Then blessed we the Gods in our joy. +But all that made them to love us +Hath perished from Troy. + + * * * * * + +[_As the song ceases, the King_ MENELAUS _enters, richly armed and +followed by a bodyguard of Soldiers. He is a prey to violent and +conflicting emotions._ + +MENELAUS[36]. + +How bright the face of heaven, and how sweet +The air this day, that layeth at my feet +The woman that I.... Nay: 'twas not for her +I came. 'Twas for the man, the cozener +And thief, that ate with me and stole away +My bride. But Paris lieth, this long day, +By God's grace, under the horse-hoofs of the Greek, +And round him all his land. And now I seek.... +Curse her! I scarce can speak the name she bears, +That was my wife. Here with the prisoners +They keep her, in these huts, among the hordes +Of numbered slaves.--The host whose labouring swords +Won her, have given her up to me, to fill +My pleasure; perchance kill her, or not kill, +But lead her home.--Methinks I have foregone +The slaying of Helen here in Ilion.... +Over the long seas I will bear her back, +And there, there, cast her out to whatso wrack +Of angry death they may devise, who know +Their dearest dead for her in Ilion.--Ho! +Ye soldiers! Up into the chambers where +She croucheth! Grip the long blood-reeking hair, +And drag her to mine eyes ... [_Controlling himself_. + And when there come +Fair breezes, my long ships shall bear her home. + [_The Soldiers go to force open the door of the second hut on the left_. + +HECUBA. + +Thou deep Base of the World[37], and thou high Throne +Above the World, whoe'er thou art, unknown +And hard of surmise, Chain of Things that be, +Or Reason of our Reason; God, to thee +I lift my praise, seeing the silent road +That bringeth justice ere the end be trod +To all that breathes and dies. + +MENELAUS (_turning_). + + Ha! who is there +That prayeth heaven, and in so strange a prayer? + +HECUBA. + +I bless thee, Menelaus, I bless thee, +If thou wilt slay her! Only fear to see +Her visage, lest she snare thee and thou fall! +She snareth strong men's eyes; she snareth tall +Cities; and fire from out her eateth up +Houses. Such magic hath she, as a cup +Of death!... Do I not know her? Yea, and thou, +And these that lie around, do they not know? + [_The Soldiers return from the hut and stand aside to let_ HELEN _pass +between them. She comes through them, gentle and unafraid; there is no +disorder in her raiment_. + +HELEN. + +King Menelaus, thy first deed might make +A woman fear. Into my chamber brake + Thine armèd men, and lead me wrathfully. + Methinks, almost, I know thou hatest me. +Yet I would ask thee, what decree is gone +Forth for my life or death? + +MENELAUS (_struggling with his emotion_). + There was not one +That scrupled for thee. All, all with one will +Gave thee to me, whom thou hast wronged, to kill! + +HELEN. + +And is it granted that I speak, or no, +In answer to them ere I die, to show +I die most wronged and innocent? + +MENELAUS. + + I seek +To kill thee, woman; not to hear thee speak! + +HECUBA. + +O hear her! She must never die unheard, +King Menelaus! And give me the word +To speak in answer! All the wrong she wrought +Away from thee, in Troy, thou knowest not. +The whole tale set together is a death +Too sure; she shall not 'scape thee! + +MENELAUS. + + 'Tis but breath +And time. For thy sake, Hecuba, if she need +To speak, I grant the prayer. I have no heed +Nor mercy--let her know it well--for her! + +HELEN. + +It may be that, how false or true soe'er +Thou deem me, I shall win no word from thee. +So sore thou holdest me thine enemy. +Yet I will take what words I think thy heart +Holdeth of anger: and in even part +Set my wrong and thy wrong, and all that fell. + + [_Pointing to_ HECUBA. + + She cometh first, who bare the seed and well +Of springing sorrow, when to life she brought +Paris: and that old King, who quenched not +Quick in the spark, ere yet he woke to slay, +The fire-brand's image[38].--But enough: a day +Came, and this Paris judged beneath the trees +Three Crowns of Life[39], three diverse Goddesses. +The gift of Pallas was of War, to lead +His East in conquering battles, and make bleed +The hearths of Hellas. Hera held a Throne-- +If majesties he craved--to reign alone +From Phrygia to the last realm of the West. +And Cypris, if he deemed her loveliest, +Beyond all heaven, made dreams about my face +And for her grace gave me. And, lo! her grace +Was judged the fairest, and she stood above +Those twain.--Thus was I loved, and thus my + love +Hath holpen Hellas. No fierce Eastern crown +Is o'er your lands, no spear hath cast them down. +O, it was well for Hellas! But for me +Most ill; caught up and sold across the sea + For this my beauty; yea, dishonourèd +For that which else had been about my head +A crown of honour.... Ah, I see thy thought; +The first plain deed, 'tis that I answer not, +How in the dark out of thy house I fled.... +There came the Seed of Fire, this woman's seed; +Came--O, a Goddess great walked with him then-- +This Alexander, Breaker-down-of-Men, +This Paris[40], Strength-is-with-him; whom thou, + whom-- +O false and light of heart--thou in thy room +Didst leave, and spreadest sail for Cretan seas, +Far, far from me!... And yet, how strange it is! +I ask not thee; I ask my own sad thought, +What was there in my heart, that I forgot +My home and land and all I loved, to fly +With a strange man? Surely it was not I, +But Cypris, there! Lay thou thy rod on her, +And be more high than Zeus and bitterer, +Who o'er all other spirits hath his throne, +But knows her chain must bind him. My wrong done +Hath its own pardon.... + + One word yet thou hast, +Methinks, of righteous seeming. When at last +The earth for Paris oped and all was o'er, +And her strange magic bound my feet no more, +Why kept I still his house, why fled not I +To the Argive ships?... Ah, how I strove to fly! +The old Gate-Warden[41] could have told thee all, +My husband, and the watchers from the wall; +It was not once they took me, with the rope +Tied, and this body swung in the air, to grope +Its way toward thee, from that dim battlement. + Ah, husband still, how shall thy hand be bent +To slay me? Nay, if Right be come at last, +What shalt thou bring but comfort for pains past, +And harbour for a woman storm-driven: +A woman borne away by violent men: +And this one birthright of my beauty, this +That might have been my glory, lo, it is +A stamp that God hath burned, of slavery! + Alas! and if thou cravest still to be +As one set above gods, inviolate, +'Tis but a fruitless longing holds thee yet. + +LEADER. + +O Queen, think of thy children and thy land, +And break her spell! The sweet soft speech, the + hand +And heart so fell: it maketh me afraid. + +HECUBA. + +Meseems her goddesses first cry mine aid +Against these lying lips!... Not Hera, nay, +Nor virgin Pallas deem I such low clay, +To barter their own folk, Argos and brave +Athens, to be trod down, the Phrygian's slave, +All for vain glory and a shepherd's prize +On Ida! Wherefore should great Hera's eyes +So hunger to be fair? She doth not use +To seek for other loves, being wed with Zeus. +And maiden Pallas ... did some strange god's face +Beguile her, that she craved for loveliness, +Who chose from God one virgin gift above +All gifts, and fleeth from the lips of love? + Ah, deck not out thine own heart's evil springs +By making spirits of heaven as brutish things +And cruel. The wise may hear thee, and guess all! + And Cypris must take ship-fantastical! +Sail with my son and enter at the gate +To seek thee! Had she willed it, she had sate +At peace in heaven, and wafted thee, and all +Amyclae with thee, under Ilion's wall. + My son was passing beautiful, beyond +His peers; and thine own heart, that saw and conned +His face, became a spirit enchanting thee. +For all wild things that in mortality + Have being, are Aphroditê; and the name +She bears in heaven is born and writ of them. + Thou sawest him in gold and orient vest +Shining, and lo, a fire about thy breast +Leapt! Thou hadst fed upon such little things, +Pacing thy ways in Argos. But now wings +Were come! Once free from Sparta, and there rolled +The Ilian glory, like broad streams of gold, +To steep thine arms and splash the towers! How + small, +How cold that day was Menelaus' hall! + Enough of that. It was by force my son +Took thee, thou sayst, and striving.... Yet not one +In Sparta knew! No cry, no sudden prayer +Rang from thy rooms that night.... Castor was there +To hear thee, and his brother: both true men, +Not yet among the stars! And after, when +Thou camest here to Troy, and in thy track +Argos and all its anguish and the rack +Of war--Ah God!--perchance men told thee 'Now +The Greek prevails in battle': then wouldst thou +Praise Menelaus, that my son might smart, +Striving with that old image in a heart +Uncertain still. Then Troy had victories: +And this Greek was as naught! Alway thine eyes +Watched Fortune's eyes, to follow hot where she +Led first. Thou wouldst not follow Honesty. + Thy secret ropes, thy body swung to fall +Far, like a desperate prisoner, from the wall! +Who found thee so? When wast thou taken? Nay, +Hadst thou no surer rope, no sudden way +Of the sword, that any woman honest-souled +Had sought long since, loving her lord of old? + Often and often did I charge thee; 'Go, +My daughter; go thy ways. My sons will know +New loves. I will give aid, and steal thee past +The Argive watch. O give us peace at last, +Us and our foes!' But out thy spirit cried +As at a bitter word. Thou hadst thy pride +In Alexander's house, and O, 'twas sweet +To hold proud Easterns bowing at thy feet. +They were great things to thee!... And comest thou + now +Forth, and hast decked thy bosom and thy brow, +And breathest with thy lord the same blue air, +Thou evil heart? Low, low, with ravaged hair, +Rent raiment, and flesh shuddering, and within-- +O shame at last, not glory for thy sin; +So face him if thou canst!... Lo, I have done. +Be true, O King; let Hellas bear her crown +Of Justice. Slay this woman, and upraise +The law for evermore: she that betrays +Her husband's bed, let her be judged and die. + +LEADER. + +Be strong, O King; give judgment worthily +For thee and thy great house. Shake off thy long +Reproach; not weak, but iron against the wrong! + +MENELAUS. + +Thy thought doth walk with mine in one intent. +'Tis sure; her heart was willing, when she went +Forth to a stranger's bed. And all her fair +Tale of enchantment, 'tis a thing of air!... + +[_Turning furiously upon_ HELEN. + +Out, woman! There be those that seek thee yet +With stones! Go, meet them. So shall thy long debt +Be paid at last. And ere this night is o'er +Thy dead face shall dishonour me no more! + +HELEN (_kneeling before him and embracing him_). + +Behold, mine arms are wreathed about thy knees; +Lay not upon my head the phantasies +Of Heaven. Remember all, and slay me not! + +HECUBA. + +Remember them she murdered, them that fought +Beside thee, and their children! Hear that prayer! + +MENELAUS. + +Peace, agèd woman, peace! 'Tis not for her; +She is as naught to me. + (_To the Soldiers_) ... March on before, +Ye ministers, and tend her to the shore ... +And have some chambered galley set for her, +Where she may sail the seas. + +HECUBA. + + If thou be there, +I charge thee, let not her set foot therein! + +MENELAUS. + +How? Shall the ship go heavier for her sin? + +HECUBA. + +A lover once, will alway love again. + +MENELAUS. + +If that he loved be evil, he will fain +Hate it!... Howbeit, thy pleasure shall be done. +Some other ship shall bear her, not mine own.... +Thou counsellest very well.... And when we come +To Argos, then ... O then some pitiless doom +Well-earned, black as her heart! One that shall bind +Once for all time the law on womankind +Of faithfulness!... 'Twill be no easy thing, +God knoweth. But the thought thereof shall fling +A chill on the dreams of women, though they be +Wilder of wing and loathèd more than she! + +[_Exit, following_ HELEN, _who is escorted by the Soldiers_. + + * * * * * + +CHORUS[42]. + +_Some Women_. + +[_Strophe_ I. + + And hast thou turned from the Altar of frankincense, + And given to the Greek thy temple of Ilion? + The flame of the cakes of corn, is it gone from hence, + The myrrh on the air and the wreathèd towers gone? +And Ida, dark Ida, where the wild ivy grows, +The glens that run as rivers from the summer-broken snows, +And the Rock, is it forgotten, where the first sunbeam glows, + The lit house most holy of the Dawn? + +EURIPIDES + +_Others._ + + [_Antistrophe I._ + + The sacrifice is gone and the sound of joy, + The dancing under the stars and the night-long prayer: + The Golden Images and the Moons of Troy, + The twelve Moons and the mighty names they bear: +My heart, my heart crieth, O Lord Zeus on high, + Were they all to thee as nothing, thou thronèd in the sky, + Thronèd in the fire-cloud, where a City, near to die, + Passeth in the wind and the flare? + +_A Woman._ + + [_Strophe 2._ + +Dear one, O husband mine, + Thou in the dim dominions +Driftest with waterless lips, +Unburied; and me the ships +Shall bear o'er the bitter brine, + Storm-birds upon angry pinions, +Where the towers of the Giants[43] shine +O'er Argos cloudily, +And the riders ride by the sea. + +_Others._ + +And children still in the Gate + Crowd and cry, +A multitude desolate, +Voices that float and wait + As the tears run dry: +'Mother, alone on the shore + They drive me, far from thee: +Lo, the dip of the oar, + The black hull on the sea! +Is it the Isle Immortal, + Salamis, waits for me? +Is it the Rock that broods +Over the sundered floods +Of Corinth, the ancient portal + Of Pelops' sovranty?' + +_A Woman._ + + [_Antistrophe_ 2. + +Out in the waste of foam, + Where rideth dark Menelaus, +Come to us there, O white +And jagged, with wild sea-light +And crashing of oar-blades, come, + O thunder of God, and slay us: +While our tears are wet for home, +While out in the storm go we, +Slaves of our enemy! + +_Others._ + +And, God, may Helen be there[44], + With mirror of gold, +Decking her face so fair, +Girl-like; and hear, and stare, + And turn death-cold: +Never, ah, never more + The hearth of her home to see, +Nor sand of the Spartan shore, + Nor tombs where her fathers be, +Nor Athena's bronzen Dwelling, + Nor the towers of Pitanê +For her face was a dark desire +Upon Greece, and shame like fire, +And her dead are welling, welling, + From red Simoïs to the sea! + + * * * * * + +[TALTHYBIUS, _followed by one or two Soldiers and bearing the child_ +ASTYANAX _dead, is seen approaching._ + +LEADER. + +Ah, change on change! Yet each one racks + This land with evil manifold; + Unhappy wives of Troy, behold, +They bear the dead Astyanax, +Our prince, whom bitter Greeks this hour +Have hurled to death from Ilion's tower. + +TALTHYBIUS. + +One galley, Hecuba, there lingereth yet, +Lapping the wave, to gather the last freight +Of Pyrrhus' spoils for Thessaly. The chief +Himself long since hath parted, much in grief + For Pêleus' sake, his grandsire, whom, men say, +Acastus, Pelias' son, in war array +Hath driven to exile. Loath enough before +Was he to linger, and now goes the more +In haste, bearing Andromache, his prize. +'Tis she hath charmed these tears into mine eyes, +Weeping her fatherland, as o'er the wave +She gazed, and speaking words to Hector's grave. +Howbeit, she prayed us that due rites be done +For burial of this babe, thine Hector's son, +That now from Ilion's tower is fallen and dead. +And, lo! this great bronze-fronted shield, the dread +Of many a Greek, that Hector held in fray, +O never in God's name--so did she pray-- + Be this borne forth to hang in Pêleus' hall +Or that dark bridal chamber, that the wall +May hurt her eyes; but here, in Troy o'erthrown, +Instead of cedar wood and vaulted stone, +Be this her child's last house.... And in thine hands +She bade me lay him, to be swathed in bands +Of death and garments, such as rest to thee +In these thy fallen fortunes; seeing that she +Hath gone her ways, and, for her master's haste, +May no more fold the babe unto his rest. + Howbeit, so soon as he is garlanded +And robed, we will heap earth above his head +And lift our sails.... See all be swiftly done, +As thou art bidden. I have saved thee one +Labour. For as I passed Scamander's stream +Hard by, I let the waters run on him, +And cleansed his wounds.--See, I will go forth now +And break the hard earth for his grave: so thou +And I will haste together, to set free +Our oars at last to beat the homeward sea! + +[_He goes out with his Soldiers, leaving the body of the Child in_ +HECUBA'S _arms._ + +HECUBA. + +Set the great orb of Hector's shield to lie +Here on the ground. 'Tis bitter that mine eye +Should see it.... O ye Argives, was your spear +Keen, and your hearts so low and cold, to fear +This babe? 'Twas a strange murder for brave + men! +For fear this babe some day might raise again +His fallen land! Had ye so little pride? +While Hector fought, and thousands at his side, +Ye smote us, and we perished; and now, now, +When all are dead and Ilion lieth low, +Ye dread this innocent! I deem it not +Wisdom, that rage of fear that hath no thought.... + Ah, what a death hath found thee, little one! +Hadst thou but fallen fighting, hadst thou known +Strong youth and love and all the majesty +Of godlike kings, then had we spoken of thee +As of one blessed ... could in any wise +These days know blessedness. But now thine eyes +Have seen, thy lips have tasted, but thy soul +No knowledge had nor usage of the whole +Rich life that lapt thee round.... Poor little child! +Was it our ancient wall, the circuit piled +By loving Gods, so savagely hath rent +Thy curls, these little flowers innocent +That were thy mother's garden, where she laid +Her kisses; here, just where the bone-edge frayed +Grins white above--Ah heaven, I will not see! + Ye tender arms, the same dear mould have ye +As his; how from the shoulder loose ye drop +And weak! And dear proud lips, so full of hope +And closed for ever! What false words ye said +At daybreak, when he crept into my bed, +Called me kind names, and promised: 'Grandmother, +When thou art dead, I will cut close my hair +And lead out all the captains to ride by +Thy tomb.' Why didst thou cheat me so? 'Tis I, +Old, homeless, childless, that for thee must shed +Cold tears, so young, so miserably dead. + Dear God, the pattering welcomes of thy feet, +The nursing in my lap; and O, the sweet +Falling asleep together! All is gone. +How should a poet carve the funeral stone +To tell thy story true? 'There lieth here +A babe whom the Greeks feared, and in their fear +Slew him.' Aye, Greece will bless the tale it + tells! + Child, they have left thee beggared of all else +In Hector's house; but one thing shalt thou keep, +This war-shield bronzen-barred, wherein to sleep. +Alas, thou guardian true of Hector's fair +Left arm, how art thou masterless! And there +I see his handgrip printed on thy hold; +And deep stains of the precious sweat, that rolled +In battle from the brows and beard of him, +Drop after drop, are writ about thy rim. + Go, bring them--such poor garments hazardous +As these days leave. God hath not granted us +Wherewith to make much pride. But all I can, +I give thee, Child of Troy.--O vain is man, +Who glorieth in his joy and hath no fears: +While to and fro the chances of the years +Dance like an idiot in the wind! And none +By any strength hath his own fortune won. + +[_During these lines several Women are seen approaching with garlands +and raiment in their hands_. + +LEADER. + +Lo these, who bear thee raiment harvested +From Ilion's slain, to fold upon the dead. + +[_During the following scene_ HECUBA _gradually takes the garments and +wraps them about the Child_. + +HECUBA. + +O not in pride for speeding of the car +Beyond thy peers, not for the shaft of war +True aimed, as Phrygians use; not any prize +Of joy for thee, nor splendour in men's eyes, +Thy father's mother lays these offerings +About thee, from the many fragrant things +That were all thine of old. But now no more. +One woman, loathed of God, hath broke the door +And robbed thy treasure-house, and thy warm breath +Made cold, and trod thy people down to death! + +CHORUS. +_Some Women_. + +Deep in the heart of me + I feel thine hand, +Mother: and is it he +Dead here, our prince to be, + And lord of the land? + +HECUBA. + +Glory of Phrygian raiment, which my thought +Kept for thy bridal day with some far-sought +Queen of the East, folds thee for evermore. + And thou, grey Mother, Mother-Shield that bore + +THE TROJAN WOMEN + +A thousand days of glory, thy last crown +Is here.... Dear Hector's shield! Thou shalt lie + down +Undying with the dead, and lordlier there +Than all the gold Odysseus' breast can bear, +The evil and the strong! + +CHORUS. +_Some Women._ + +Child of the Shield-bearer, + Alas, Hector's child! +Great Earth, the All-mother, +Taketh thee unto her + With wailing wild! + +_Others._ + Mother of misery, + Give Death his song! + +(HEC. Woe!) Aye and bitterly + +(HEC. Woe!) We too weep for thee, + And the infinite wrong! + +[_During these lines_ HECUBA, _kneeling by the body, has been performing +a funeral rite, symbolically staunching the dead Child's wounds._ + +HECUBA. + + I make thee whole[45]; +I bind thy wounds, O little vanished soul. +This wound and this I heal with linen white: +O emptiness of aid!... Yet let the rite +Be spoken. This and.... Nay, not I, but he, +Thy father far away shall comfort thee! + +[_She bows her head to the ground and remains motionless and unseeing._ + +CHORUS. + +Beat, beat thine head: + Beat with the wailing chime + Of hands lifted in time: +Beat and bleed for the dead. +Woe is me for the dead! + +HECUBA. + +O Women! Ye, mine own.... + +[_She rises bewildered, as though she had seen a vision_. + +LEADER. + + Hecuba, speak! +Oh, ere thy bosom break.... + +HECUBA. + +Lo, I have seen the open hand of God[46]; +And in it nothing, nothing, save the rod +Of mine affliction, and the eternal hate, +Beyond all lands, chosen and lifted great +For Troy! Vain, vain were prayer and incense-swell +And bulls' blood on the altars!... All is well. +Had He not turned us in His hand, and thrust +Our high things low and shook our hills as dust, +We had not been this splendour, and our wrong +An everlasting music for the song +Of earth and heaven! + + Go, women: lay our dead +In his low sepulchre. He hath his meed +Of robing. And, methinks, but little care +Toucheth the tomb, if they that moulder there +Have rich encerement. 'Tis we, 'tis we, +That dream, we living and our vanity! + +[_The Women bear out the dead Child upon the shield, singing, when +presently flames of fire and dim forms are seen among the ruins of the +City_. + +CHORUS. +_Some Women_. + +Woe for the mother that bare thee, child, + Thread so frail of a hope so high, +That Time hath broken: and all men smiled + About thy cradle, and, passing by, + Spoke of thy father's majesty. + Low, low, thou liest! + +_Others_. + +Ha! Who be these on the crested rock? +Fiery hands in the dusk, and a shock +Of torches flung! What lingereth still, +O wounded City, of unknown ill, + Ere yet thou diest? + +TALTHYBIUS (_coming out through the ruined Wall_). + +Ye Captains that have charge to wreck this keep +Of Priam's City, let your torches sleep +No more! Up, fling the fire into her heart! +Then have we done with Ilion, and may part +In joy to Hellas from this evil land. + And ye--so hath one word two faces--stand, +Daughters of Troy, till on your ruined wall +The echo of my master's trumpet call +In signal breaks: then, forward to the sea, +Where the long ships lie waiting. + + And for thee, +O ancient woman most unfortunate, +Follow: Odysseus' men be here, and wait +To guide thee.... 'Tis to him thou go'st for thrall. + +HECUBA. + +Ah, me! and is it come, the end of all, +The very crest and summit of my days? +I go forth from my land, and all its ways +Are filled with fire! Bear me, O aged feet, +A little nearer: I must gaze, and greet +My poor town ere she fall. + + Farewell, farewell! +O thou whose breath was mighty on the swell +Of orient winds, my Troy! Even thy name +Shall soon be taken from thee. Lo, the flame +Hath thee, and we, thy children, pass away +To slavery.... God! O God of mercy!... Nay: +Why call I on the Gods? They know, they know, +My prayers, and would not hear them long ago. + Quick, to the flames! O, in thine agony, +My Troy, mine own, take me to die with thee! + +[_She springs toward the flames, but is seized and held by the +Soldiers._ + +TALTHYBIUS. + +Back! Thou art drunken with thy miseries, +Poor woman!--Hold her fast, men, till it please +Odysseus that she come. She was his lot +Chosen from all and portioned. Lose her not! + +[_He goes to watch over the burning of the City. The dusk deepens_. + +CHORUS. +_Divers Women_. + + Woe, woe, woe! +Thou of the Ages[47], O wherefore fleëst thou, + Lord of the Phrygian, Father that made us? + 'Tis we, thy children; shall no man aid us? + 'Tis we, thy children! Seëst thou, seëst thou? + +_Others_. + + He seëth, only his heart is pitiless; + And the land dies: yea, she, +She of the Mighty Cities perisheth citiless! + Troy shall no more be! + +_Others_. + +Woe, woe, woe! + Ilion shineth afar! +Fire in the deeps thereof, +Fire in the heights above, + And crested walls of War! + +_Others_. + As smoke on the wing of heaven + Climbeth and scattereth, + Torn of the spear and driven, + The land crieth for death: +O stormy battlements that red fire hath riven, + And the sword's angry breath! + +[_A new thought comes to_ HECUBA; _she kneels and beats the earth with +her hands_. + +HECUBA. + +[_Strophe_. + +O Earth, Earth of my children; hearken! and O + mine own, +Ye have hearts and forget not, ye in the darkness + lying! + +LEADER. + +Now hast thou found thy prayer[48], crying to them that + are gone. + +HECUBA. + +Surely my knees are weary, but I kneel above your + head; +Hearken, O ye so silent! My hands beat your bed! + +LEADER. + + I, I am near thee; + I kneel to thy dead to hear thee, +Kneel to mine own in the darkness; O husband, hear + my crying! + +HECUBA. + +Even as the beasts they drive, even as the loads they + bear, + +LEADER. +(Pain; O pain!) + +HECUBA. + +We go to the house of bondage. Hear, ye dead, O + hear! + +LEADER. +(Go, and come not again!) + +HECUBA. + +Priam, mine own Priam, + Lying so lowly, +Thou in thy nothingness, +Shelterless, comfortless, +See'st thou the thing I am? +Know'st thou my bitter stress? + +LEADER. + +Nay, thou art naught to him! +Out of the strife there came, +Out of the noise and shame, +Making his eyelids dim, + Death, the Most Holy! +[_The fire and smoke rise constantly higher_. + +HECUBA. + +[_Antistrophe_. +O high houses of Gods, beloved streets of my birth, + Ye have found the way of the sword, the fiery and + blood-red river! + +LEADER. + +Fall, and men shall forget you! Ye shall lie in the + gentle earth. + +HECUBA. + +The dust as smoke riseth; it spreadeth wide its wing; +It maketh me as a shadow, and my City a vanished + thing! + +LEADER. + + Out on the smoke she goeth, + And her name no man knoweth; +And the cloud is northward, southward; Troy is gone + for ever! + +[_A great crash is heard, and the Wall is lost in smoke and darkness_. + +HECUBA. + +Ha! Marked ye? Heard ye? The crash of the + towers that fall! + +LEADER. + + All is gone! + +HECUBA. + +Wrath in the earth and quaking and a flood that + sweepeth all, + +LEADER. + + And passeth on! + [_The Greek trumpet sounds_. + +HECUBA. + +Farewell!--O spirit grey, + Whatso is coming, +Fail not from under me. +Weak limbs, why tremble ye? +Forth where the new long day +Dawneth to slavery! + +CHORUS. + +Farewell from parting lips, +Farewell!--Come, I and thou, +Whatso may wait us now, +Forth to the long Greek ships[49] + And the sea's foaming. + +[_The trumpet sounds again, and the Women go out in the darkness._ + + + + +NOTES ON THE TROJAN WOMEN + + +[1] Poseidon.]--In the _Iliad_ Poseidon is the enemy of Troy, here the +friend. This sort of confusion comes from the fact that the Trojans and +their Greek enemies were largely of the same blood, with the same tribal +gods. To the Trojans, Athena the War-Goddess was, of course, _their_ +War-Goddess, the protectress of their citadel. Poseidon, god of the sea +and its merchandise, and Apollo (possibly a local shepherd god?), were +their natural friends and had actually built their city wall for love of +the good old king, Laomedon. Zeus, the great father, had Mount Ida for +his holy hill and Troy for his peculiar city. (Cf. on p. 63.) + +To suit the Greek point of view all this had to be changed or explained +away. In the _Iliad_ generally Athena is the proper War-Goddess of the +Greeks. Poseidon had indeed built the wall for Laomedon, but Laomedon +had cheated him of his reward--as afterwards he cheated Heracles, and +the Argonauts and everybody else! So Poseidon hated Troy. Troy is +chiefly defended by the barbarian Ares, the oriental Aphrodite, by its +own rivers Scamander and Simois and suchlike inferior or unprincipled +gods. + +Yet traces of the other tradition remain. Homer knows that Athena is +specially worshipped in Troy. He knows that Apollo, who had built the +wall with Poseidon, and had the same experience of Laomedon, still loves +the Trojans. Zeus himself, though eventually in obedience to destiny he +permits the fall of the city, nevertheless has a great tenderness +towards it. + +[2] A steed marvellous.]--See below, on p. 36. + +[3] go forth from great Ilion, &c.]--The correct ancient doctrine. When +your gods forsook you, there was no more hope. Conversely, when your +state became desperate, evidently your gods were forsaking you. From +another point of view, also, when the city was desolate and unable to +worship its gods, the gods of that city were no more. + +[4] Laotian Tyndarid.]--Helen was the child of Zeus and Leda, and sister +of Castor and Polydeuces; but her human father was Tyndareus, an old +Spartan king. She is treated as "a prisoner and a prize," _i.e_., as a +captured enemy, not as a Greek princess delivered from the Trojans. + +[5] In secret slain.]--Because the Greeks were ashamed of the bloody +deed. See below, p. 42, and the scene on this subject in the _Hecuba_. + +[6] Cassandra.]--In the _Agamemnon_ the story is more clearly told, that +Cassandra was loved by Apollo and endowed by him with the power of +prophecy; then in some way she rejected or betrayed him, and he set upon +her the curse that though seeing the truth she should never be believed. +The figure of Cassandra in this play is not inconsistent with that +version, but it makes a different impression. She is here a dedicated +virgin, and her mystic love for Apollo does not seem to have suffered +any breach. + +[7] Pallas.]--(See above.) The historical explanation of the Trojan +Pallas and the Greek Pallas is simple enough; but as soon as the two are +mythologically personified and made one, there emerges just such a +bitter and ruthless goddess as Euripides, in his revolt against the +current mythology, loved to depict. But it is not only the mythology +that he is attacking. He seems really to feel that if there are +conscious gods ruling the world, they are cruel or "inhuman" beings. + +[8]--Ajax the Less, son of Oïleus, either ravished or attempted to +ravish Cassandra (the story occurs in both forms) while she was clinging +to the Palladium or image of Pallas. It is one of the great typical sins +of the Sack of Troy, often depicted on vases. + +[9] Faces of ships.]--Homeric ships had prows shaped and painted to look +like birds' or beasts' heads. A ship was always a wonderfully live and +vivid thing to the Greek poets. (Cf. p. 64.) + +[10] Castor.]--Helen's brother: the Eurôtas, the river of her home, +Sparta. + +[11] Fifty seeds.]--Priam had fifty children, nineteen of them children +of Hecuba (_Il_. vi. 451, &c.). + +[12] Pirênê.]--The celebrated spring on the hill of Corinth. Drawing +water was a typical employment of slaves. + +[13] ff., Theseus' land, &c.]--Theseus' land is Attica. The poet, in the +midst of his bitterness over the present conduct of his city, clings the +more to its old fame for humanity. The "land high-born" where the Penêüs +flows round the base of Mount Olympus in northern Thessaly is one of the +haunts of Euripides' dreams in many plays. Cf. _Bacchae_, 410 (p. 97 in +my translation). Mount Aetna fronts the "Tyrians' citadel," _i.e._., +Carthage, built by the Phoenicians. The "sister land" is the district of +Sybaris in South Italy, where the river Crathis has, or had, a red-gold +colour, which makes golden the hair of men and the fleeces of sheep; and +the water never lost its freshness. + +[14] Talthybius is a loyal soldier with every wish to be kind. But he is +naturally in good spirits over the satisfactory end of the war, and his +tact is not sufficient to enable him to understand the Trojan Women's +feelings. Yet in the end, since he has to see and do the cruelties which +his Chiefs only order from a distance, the real nature of his work +forces itself upon him, and he feels and speaks at times almost like a +Trojan. It is worth noticing how the Trojan Women generally avoid +addressing him. (Cf. pp. 48, 67, 74.) + +[15] The haunted keys (literally, "with God through them, penetrating +them").]--Cassandra was his Key-bearer, holding the door of his Holy +Place. (Cf. _ Hip_. 540, p. 30.) + +[16] She hath a toil, &c.]--There is something true and pathetic about +this curious blindness which prevents Hecuba from understanding "so +plain a riddle." (Cf. below, p. 42.) She takes the watching of a Tomb to +be some strange Greek custom, and does not seek to have it explained +further. + +[17] Odysseus.]--In Euripides generally Odysseus is the type of the +successful unscrupulous man, as soldier and politician--the incarnation +of what the poet most hated. In Homer of course he is totally different. + +[18] Burn themselves and die.]--Women under these circumstances did +commit suicide in Euripides' day, as they have ever since. It is rather +curious that none of the characters of the play, not even Andromache, +kills herself. The explanation must be that no such suicide was recorded +in the tradition (though cf. below, on p. 33); a significant fact, +suggesting that in the Homeric age, when this kind of treatment of women +captives was regular, the victims did not suffer quite so terribly under +it. + +[19] Hymen.]--She addresses the Torch. The shadowy Marriage-god "Hymen" +was a torch and a cry as much as anything more personal. As a torch he +is the sign both of marriage and of death, of sunrise and of the +consuming fire. The full Moon was specially connected with marriage +ceremonies. + +[20] Loxias.]--The name of Apollo as an Oracular God. + +[21] Cassandra's visions.]--The allusions are to the various sufferings +of Odysseus, as narrated in the _Odyssey_, and to the tragedies of the +house of Atreus, as told for instance in Aeschylus' _Oresteia_. +Agamemnon together with Cassandra, and in part because he brought +Cassandra, was murdered--felled with an axe--on his return home by his +wife Clytaemnestra and her lover Aegisthus. Their bodies were cast into +a pit among the rocks. In vengeance for this, Orestes, Agamemnon's son, +committed "mother-murder," and in consequence was driven by the Erinyes +(Furies) of his mother into madness and exile. + +[22] This their king so wise.]--Agamemnon made the war for the sake of +his brother Menelaus, and slew his daughter, Iphigenia, as a sacrifice +at Aulis, to enable the ships to sail for Troy. + +[23] Hector and Paris.]--The point about Hector is clear, but as to +Paris, the feeling that, after all, it was a glory that he and the +half-divine Helen loved each other, is scarcely to be found anywhere +else in Greek literature. (Cf., however, Isocrates' "Praise of Helen.") +Paris and Helen were never idealised like Launcelot and Guinevere, or +Tristram and Iseult. + +[24] A wise queen.]--Penelope, the faithful wife of Odysseus. + +[25] O Heralds, yea, Voices of Death.]--There is a play on the word for +"heralds" in the Greek here, which I have evaded by a paraphrase. +([Greek: Kaer-ukes] as though from [Greek: Kaer] the death-spirit, "the +one thing abhorred of all mortal men.") + +[26] That in this place she dies.]--The death of Hecuba is connected +with a certain heap of stones on the shore of the Hellespont, called +_Kunossêma_, or "Dog's Tomb." According to one tradition (Eur. _Hec_. +1259 ff.) she threw herself off the ship into the sea; according to +another she was stoned by the Greeks for her curses upon the fleet; but +in both she is changed after death into a sort of Hell-hound. M. Victor +Bérard suggests that the dog first comes into the story owing to the +accidental resemblance of the (hypothetical) Semitic word _S'qoulah_, +"Stone" or "Stoning," and the Greek _Skulax_, dog. The Homeric Scylla +(_Skulla_) was also both a Stone and a Dog (_Phéneciens et Odyssée_, i. +213). Of course in the present passage there is no direct reference to +these wild sailor-stories. + +[27] The wind comes quick.]--_i.e._. The storm of the Prologue. Three +Powers: the three Erinyes. + +[28] ff., Chorus.]--The Wooden Horse is always difficult to understand, +and seems to have an obscuring effect on the language of poets who treat +of it. I cannot help suspecting that the story arises from a real +historical incident misunderstood. Troy, we are told, was still holding +out after ten years and could not be taken, until at last by the divine +suggestions of Athena, a certain Epeios devised a "Wooden Horse." + +What was the "device"? According to the _Odyssey_ and most Greek poets, +it was a gigantic wooden figure of a horse. A party of heroes, led by +Odysseus, got inside it and waited. The Greeks made a show of giving up +the siege and sailed away, but only as far as Tenedos. The Trojans came +out and found the horse, and after wondering greatly what it was meant +for and what to do with it, made a breach in their walls and dragged it +into the Citadel as a thank-offering to Pallas. In the night the Greeks +returned; the heroes in the horse came out and opened the gates, and +Troy was captured. + +It seems possible that the "device" really was the building of a wooden +siege-tower, as high as the walls, with a projecting and revolving neck. +Such engines were (1) capable of being used at the time in Asia, as a +rare and extraordinary device, because they exist on early Assyrian +monuments; (2) certain to be misunderstood in Greek legendary tradition, +because they were not used in Greek warfare till many centuries later. +(First, perhaps, at the sieges of Perinthus and Byzantium by Philip of +Macedon, 340 B.C.) + +It is noteworthy that in the great picture by Polygnôtus in the Leschê +at Delphi "above the wall of Troy appears the head alone of the Wooden +Horse" (_Paus_. x. 26). Aeschylus also (_Ag_. 816) has some obscure +phrases pointing in the same direction: "A horse's brood, a +shield-bearing people, launched with a leap about the Pleiads' setting, +sprang clear above the wall," &c. Euripides here treats the horse +metaphorically as a sort of war-horse trampling Troy. + +[29] Her that spareth not, Heaven's yokeless rider.]--Athena like a +northern Valkyrie, as often in the _Iliad_. If one tries to imagine what +Athena, the War-Goddess worshipped by the Athenian mob, was like--what a +mixture of bad national passions, of superstition and statecraft, of +slip-shod unimaginative idealisation--one may partly understand why +Euripides made her so evil. Allegorists and high-minded philosophers +might make Athena entirely noble by concentrating their minds on the +beautiful elements in the tradition, and forgetting or explaining away +all that was savage; he was determined to pin her down to the worst +facts recorded of her, and let people worship such a being if they +liked! + +[30] To Artemis.]--Maidens at the shrine of Artemis are a fixed datum in +the tradition. (Cf. _Hec_. 935 ff.) + +[31] Andromache and Hecuba.]--This very beautiful scene is perhaps +marred to most modern readers by an element which is merely a part of +the convention of ancient mourning. Each of the mourners cries: "There +is no affliction like mine!" and then proceeds to argue, as it were, +against the other's counter claim. One can only say that it was, after +all, what they expected of each other; and I believe the same convention +exists in most places where keening or wailing is an actual practice. + +[32] Even as the sound of a song.]--I have filled in some words which +seem to be missing in the Greek here. + +[33]Andromache.]--This character is wonderfully studied. She seems to me +to be a woman who has not yet shown much character or perhaps had very +intense experience, but is only waiting for sufficiently great trials to +become a heroine and a saint. There is still a marked element of +conventionality in her description of her life with Hector; but one +feels, as she speaks, that she is already past it. Her character is +built up of "_Sophrosyne_," of self-restraint and the love of +goodness--qualities which often seem second-rate or even tiresome until +they have a sufficiently great field in which to act. Very +characteristic is her resolution to make the best, and not the worst, of +her life in Pyrrhus' house, with all its horror of suffering and +apparent degradation. So is the self-conquest by which she deliberately +refrains from cursing her child's murderers, for the sake of the last +poor remnant of good she can still do to him, in getting him buried. The +nobility of such a character depends largely, of course, on the +intensity of the feelings conquered. + +It is worth noting, in this connection, that Euripides is contradicting +a wide-spread tradition (Robert, _Bild und Lied_, pp. 63 ff.). +Andromache, in the pictures of the Sack of Troy, is represented with a +great pestle or some such instrument fighting with the Soldiers to +rescue Astyanax ([Greek:'Andro-machae]= "Man-fighting"). + +Observe, too, what a climax of drama is reached by means of the very +fact that Andromache, to the utmost of her power, tries to do nothing +"dramatic," but only what will be best. Her character in Euripides' +play, _Andromache_, is, on the whole, similar to this, but less +developed. + +[34] In Salamis, filled with the foaming, &c.]--A striking instance of +the artistic value of the Greek chorus in relieving an intolerable +strain. The relief provided is something much higher than what we +ordinarily call "relief"; it is a stream of pure poetry and music in key +with the sadness of the surrounding scene, yet, in a way, happy just +because it is beautiful. (Cf. note on _Hippolytus_, 1. 732.) + +The argument of the rather difficult lyric is: "This is not the first +time Troy has been taken. Long ago Heracles made war against the old +king Laomedon, because he had not given him the immortal steeds that he +promised. And Telamon joined him; Telamon who might have been happy in +his island of Salamis, among the bees and the pleasant waters, looking +over the strait to the olive-laden hills of Athens, the beloved City! +And they took ship and slew Laomedon. Yea, twice Zeus has destroyed +Ilion! + +(Second part.) Is it all in vain that our Trojan princes have been loved +by the Gods? Ganymêdês pours the nectar of Zeus in his banquets, his +face never troubled, though his motherland is burned with fire! And, to +say nothing of Zeus, how can the Goddess of Morning rise and shine upon +us uncaring? She loved Tithônus, son of Laomedon, and bore him up from +us in a chariot to be her husband in the skies. But all that once made +them love us is gone!" + +[35] Pools of thy bathing.]--It is probable that Ganymêdês was himself +originally a pool or a spring on Ida, now a pourer of nectar in heaven. + +[36] Menelaus and Helen.]--The meeting of Menelaus and Helen after the +taking of Troy was naturally one of the great moments in the heroic +legend. The versions, roughly speaking, divide themselves into two. In +one (_Little Iliad_, Ar. _Lysistr_. 155, Eur. _Andromache_ 628) Menelaus +is about to kill her, but as she bares her bosom to the sword, the sword +falls from his hand. In the other (Stesichorus, _Sack of Ilion_ (?)) +Menelaus or some one else takes her to the ships to be stoned, and the +men cannot stone her. As Quintus of Smyrna says, "They looked on her as +they would on a God!" + +Both versions have affected Euripides here. And his Helen has just the +magic of the Helen of legend. That touch of the supernatural which +belongs of right to the Child of Heaven--a mystery, a gentleness, a +strange absence of fear or wrath--is felt through all her words. One +forgets to think of her guilt or innocence; she is too wonderful a being +to judge, too precious to destroy. This supernatural element, being the +thing which, if true, separates Helen from other women, and in a way +redeems her, is for that reason exactly what Hecuba denies. The +controversy has a certain eternal quality about it: the hypothesis of +heavenly enchantment and the hypothesis of mere bad behaviour, neither +of them entirely convincing! But the very curses of those that hate her +make a kind of superhuman atmosphere about Helen in this play; she fills +the background like a great well-spring of pain. + +This Menelaus, however, is rather different from the traditional +Menelaus. Besides being the husband of Helen, he is the typical +Conqueror, for whose sake the Greeks fought and to whom the central +prize of the war belongs. And we take him at the height of his triumph, +the very moment for which he made the war! Hence the peculiar bitterness +with which he is treated, his conquest turning to ashes in his mouth, +and his love a confused turmoil of hunger and hatred, contemptible and +yet terrible. + +The exit of the scene would leave a modern audience quite in doubt as to +what happened, unless the action were much clearer than the words. But +all Athenians knew from the _Odyssey_ that the pair were swiftly +reconciled, and lived happily together as King and Queen of Sparta. + +[37] Thou deep base of the world.]--These lines, as a piece of religious +speculation, were very famous in antiquity. And dramatically they are +most important. All through the play Hecuba is a woman of remarkable +intellectual power and of fearless thought. She does not definitely deny +the existence of the Olympian gods, like some characters in Euripides, +but she treats them as beings that have betrayed her, and whose name she +scarcely deigns to speak. It is the very godlessness of Hecuba's +fortitude that makes it so terrible and, properly regarded, so noble. +(Cf. p. 35 "Why call on things so weak?" and p. 74 "They know, they +know....") Such Gods were as a matter of fact the moral inferiors of +good men, and Euripides will never blind his eyes to their inferiority. +And as soon as people see that their god is bad, they tend to cease +believing in his existence at all. (Hecuba's answer to Helen is not +inconsistent with this, it is only less characteristic.) + +Behind this Olympian system, however, there is a possibility of some +real Providence or impersonal Governance of the world, to which here, +for a moment, Hecuba makes a passionate approach. If there is _any_ +explanation, _any_ justice, even in the form of mere punishment of the +wicked, she will be content and give worship! But it seems that there is +not. Then at last there remains--what most but not all modern +freethinkers would probably have begun to doubt at the very +beginning--the world of the departed, the spirits of the dead, who are +true, and in their dim way love her still (p. 71 "Thy father far away +shall comfort thee," and the last scene of the play). + +This last religion, faint and shattered by doubt as it is, represents a +return to the most primitive "Pelasgian" beliefs, a worship of the Dead +which existed long before the Olympian system, and has long outlived it. + +[38] The fire-brand's image.]--Hecuba, just before Paris' birth, dreamed +that she gave birth to a fire-brand. The prophets therefore advised that +the babe should be killed; but Priam disobeyed them. + +[39] Three Crowns of Life.]--On the Judgment of Paris see Miss Harrison, +_Prolegomena_. pp. 292 ff. Late writers degrade the story into a beauty +contest between three thoroughly personal goddesses--and a contest +complicated by bribery. But originally the Judgment is rather a Choice +between three possible lives, like the Choice of Heracles between Work +and Idleness. The elements of the choice vary in different versions: but +in general Hera is royalty; Athena is prowess in war or personal merit; +Aphrodite, of course, is love. And the goddesses are not really to be +distinguished from the gifts they bring. They are what they give, and +nothing more. Cf. the wonderful lyric _Androm_. 274 ff., where they come +to "a young man walking to and fro alone, in an empty hut in the +firelight." + +There is an extraordinary effect in Helen herself _being_ one of the +Crowns of Life--a fair equivalent for the throne of the world. + +[40] Alexander ... Paris.]--Two plays on words in the Greek. + +[41] The old Gate-Warden.]--He and the Watchers are, of course, safely +dead. But on the general lines of the tradition it may well be that +Helen is speaking the truth. She loved both Menelaus and Paris; and, +according to some versions, hated Dêiphobus, the Trojan prince who +seized her after Paris' death. There is a reference to Dêiphobus in the +MSS. of the play here, but I follow Wilamowitz in thinking it spurious. + +[42] Chorus.]--On the Trojan Zeus see above, on p. 11. Mount Ida caught +the rays of the rising sun in some special manner and distributed them +to the rest of the world; and in this gleam of heavenly fire the God had +his dwelling, which is now the brighter for the flames of his City going +up like incense! + +Nothing definite is known of the Golden Images and the Moon-Feasts. + +[43] Towers of the Giants.]--The pre-historic castles of Tiryns and +Mycênae. + +[44] May Helen be there.]--(Cf. above.) Pitanê was one of the five +divisions of Sparta. Athena had a "Bronzen House" on the acropolis of +Sparta. Simoïs, of course, the river of Troy. + +[45] I make thee whole.]--Here as elsewhere Hecuba fluctuates between +fidelity to the oldest and most instinctive religion, and a rejection of +all Gods. + +[46] Lo, I have seen the open hand of God.]--The text is, perhaps, +imperfect here; but Professor Wilamowitz agrees with me that Hecuba has +seen something like a vision. The meaning of this speech is of the +utmost importance. It expresses the inmost theme of the whole play, a +search for an answer to the injustice of suffering in the very splendour +and beauty of suffering. Of course it must be suffering of a particular +kind, or, what comes to the same thing, suffering borne in a particular +way; but in that case the answer seems to me to hold. One does not +really think the world evil because there are martyrs or heroes in it. +For them the elements of beauty which exist in any great trial of the +spirit become so great as to overpower the evil that created them--to +turn it from shame and misery into tragedy. Of course to most sufferers, +to children and animals and weak people, or those without inspiration, +the doctrine brings no help. It is a thing invented by a poet for +himself. + +[47] Thou of the Ages.]--The Phrygian All-Father, identified with Zeus, +son of Kronos. (Cf. on p. 11.) + +[48] Now hast thou found thy prayer.]--The Gods have deserted her, but +she has still the dead. (Cf. above, on p. 71.) + +[49] Forth to the dark Greek ships.]--Curiously like another magnificent +ending of a great poem, that of the _Chanson de Roland_, where +Charlemagne is called forth on a fresh quest: + + +"Deus," dist li Reis, "si penuse est ma vie!" +Pluret des oilz, sa barbe blanche tiret.... + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Trojan women of Euripides, by Euripides + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10096 *** |