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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ebd12f0 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #53487 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53487) diff --git a/old/53487-0.txt b/old/53487-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6279d36..0000000 --- a/old/53487-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9582 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Women of the Classics, by Mary C. Sturgeon - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Women of the Classics - -Author: Mary C. Sturgeon - -Release Date: November 9, 2016 [EBook #53487] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOMEN OF THE CLASSICS *** - - - - -Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - WOMEN OF - THE CLASSICS - - -[Illustration: - - PHÆDRA - - _Gertrude Demain Hammond, R.I._ -] - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - WOMEN OF - THE CLASSICS - - BY MARY C. STURGEON - - WITH SIXTEEN PHOTOGRAVURES - PRESENTING STUDIES OF THE - HEROINES OF THE BOOK - -[Illustration] - - - LONDON - GEORGE G. HARRAP & COMPANY - 2 & 3 PORTSMOUTH STREET KINGSWAY W.C. - MCMXIV - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - PRINTED AT - THE BALLANTYNE PRESS - LONDON ENGLAND - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - -_Contents_ - - - PAGE - INTRODUCTION 9 - - WOMEN OF HOMER - HELEN 15 - ANDROMACHE 29 - PENELOPE 39 - CIRCE 60 - CALYPSO 73 - NAUSICAA 85 - - - WOMEN OF ATTIC TRAGEDY - - _I._ _ÆSCHYLUS_ - CLYTEMNESTRA 99 - ELECTRA 117 - CASSANDRA 135 - IO 148 - - _II._ _SOPHOCLES_ - JOCASTA 163 - ANTIGONE 185 - - _III._ _EURIPIDES_ - ALCESTIS 209 - MEDEA 227 - PHÆDRA 243 - IPHIGENIA 256 - - - A WOMAN OF VIRGIL - DIDO 273 - - - - -_Illustrations_ - - - PHÆDRA GERTRUDE DEMAIN HAMMOND, R.I. _Frontispiece_ - _Facing page_ - HELEN LORD LEIGHTON 20 - ANDROMACHE LORD LEIGHTON 34 - PENELOPE PATTEN WILSON 50 - CIRCE PATTEN WILSON 66 - CALYPSO PATTEN WILSON 82 - NAUSICAA PATTEN WILSON 94 - CLYTÆMNESTRA HON. JOHN COLLIER 114 - ELECTRA GERTRUDE DEMAIN HAMMOND, R.I. 128 - CASSANDRA SOLOMON J. SOLOMON, R.A. 140 - JOCASTA GERTRUDE DEMAIN HAMMOND, R.I. 172 - ANTIGONE FROM THE STATUE BY HUGUES 192 - ALCESTIS LORD LEIGHTON 224 - MEDEA HERBERT DRAPER 238 - IPHIGENIA M. NONNENBRUCH 260 - DIDO GIANBATTISTA TIEPOLO 284 - - - - -_Introduction_ - - -The women in this book are the heroines of Homer, of Attic Tragedy, and -of the _Æneid_ of Virgil. Their stories are taken out of the best modern -translations of the old poems; and they are retold from the human -standpoint, with the minimum of critical comment. - -It is curious, when we reflect a moment, how little we really know about -the women of the classics. Their names have been familiar to us as long -as we can remember. We have always been vaguely conscious of a glory -clothing them—sometimes sombre and troubled, often gracious and serene, -occasionally enchanting. About the greatest of them some floating hints -of identity ripple on the surface of the mind. But we can by no means -fit these little fragments into any clear outline of the sublime beauty -of their originals. And when we light upon a reference to them in our -reading, or stand before one of the innumerable works of art which they -have inspired, memory is baffled. We have no clue to the spell that they -have cast upon the centuries: the spell itself has no power over us; and -we grope in vain for the key which would admit us to a world of delight. - -There were reasons for this state of affairs when translations were few -and costly: when scholars were merely pedants and when the classics were -sealed to women. But _nous avons changé tout cela_. Fine translations -can be bought for a few shillings. Women are themselves engaging in the -study of the old languages and of the sciences which are akin to them. -Scholarship is growing more human; and the awakened spirit of womanhood, -having become conscious of itself, cannot fail to be profoundly -interested in that earlier awakening which, twenty-five centuries ago, -evoked creatures so splendid. Of the women of Attic Tragedy Professor -Gilbert Murray has said, in his _Rise of the Greek Epic_: “Consider for -a moment the whole magnificent file of heroines in Greek Tragedy, both -for good and evil.... I doubt if there has ever in the history of the -world been a period, not even excepting the Elizabethan Age and the -Nineteenth Century, when such a gallery of heroic women has been -represented in Drama.” - -By bringing these women together into a single volume, it is hoped to -make their stories easily accessible; and by quoting some of the most -beautiful passages from the poems in which they live, it is hoped to -send the reader back to the poets themselves. It has not been possible -to include all the heroines in the available space; and several of those -who are missing have only been omitted under the direst necessity. But -all the greatest are here; and an effort has been made to choose each -group so that it shall represent as far as may be the characteristics of -its own poet. The source of the story is indicated in each case, and has -been closely followed. - -A word may be necessary on one or two points, to those who are coming to -these stories from the classics with an unfamiliar eye. It will be found -that there is a singular reticence here on that aspect of love which -engrosses modern literature. It is occasionally treated by Euripides; -but even he handles the theme delicately and with reserve. Nowhere in -these stories—with the exception of Dido, who of course belongs to a -later civilization than the Greek women—is the love which leads to -marriage dealt with explicitly. It is implicit sometimes, and we who -have been born into a heritage of romanticism, may delightedly trace it -out and make the most of it. But the old poet never does: indeed, he -hardly seems to realize that he has put it there. He belongs to a time -when women were not wooed and won, but literally bought ‘with great -store of presents,’ or acquired in other prosaic ways, which vary -according to the several epochs and their customs. The love of men and -women is treated from the point of view of husband and wife, of sister -and brother, of daughter and father, rather than from the standpoint of -the feverish hopes and fears of romantic passion. Marriage is not so -much the culmination as the starting-point of an eventful story; and the -heroic devotion of sister and daughter is crowned, no less than wifely -fidelity, with everlasting honour. We must therefore be prepared for a -change from the warmth and glow of romance to the tonic air of a more -austere idealism. - -Again, these women are not the complex creatures of modern civilization. -The earliest of them, Homer’s women, are drawn in outline only. They are -great and splendid; and because they were created for an aristocratic -audience, they are noble, dignified, and placed high above the small -things of common life. There is hardly any comedy in Homer, and reality -is far away. When we come to the dramatists we find, as we should -expect, a great advance in characterization. The women are stronger, -more real, more complete. But they are still very far from the -psychological subtlety of modern drama. - -There is, too, a singular reticence about the personal appearance of the -heroines. We are rarely told what manner of women they were to look at. -Virgil comes one step nearer to our modern love of description when he -portrays Dido as she rides out on the fatal morning of the hunt; and -when he paints the glowing figure of Camilla as she rushes into battle. -But it would be very hard to discover what was the colour of Helen’s -eyes, although the old German _Faustbuch_ of the Middle Age has dared to -assert that they were ‘black as coals.’ Homer has a more excellent way. -Instead of enumerating the charms of his heroine, as it were in a -catalogue of perfections, he brings her into the presence of hostile -folk, who on all counts have reason to hate her, and in a few vivid -phrases shows the potent effect of her beauty upon them. - -We shall find that the heroines have a system of ethics which is -different from that of our own day; and strange moral contradictions may -present themselves to our astonished eyes. Electra, with the tenderest -love for her dead father, will not rest until the death of her guilty -mother has been compassed. Antigone, infinitely gentle to the blind -Œdipus, is capable of resolute opposition to the law as it is embodied -in Creon. But though the lines of moral demarcation are differently -placed, they are not blurred. Revenge is a duty in this primitive saga -upon which the poets drew for their material; and in which there is much -that is savage and terrible. - -Greek drama was a religious ritual closely bound to ancient myth and -heroic legend, from which the poets could not escape. Hence, if these -stories are approached in an analytical mood, they will be found -barbarous and wildly improbable. If we give the rein to humour, we shall -be overcome by frequent absurdities. The best way is to come to them -quite simply, leaving the comic and the critical spirits a little way -behind. - - * * * * * - -Grateful thanks are due to the translators and publishers who have -kindly given permission to quote the passages used herein; and the -author wishes humbly to acknowledge the debt she owes to critical work -in this field. She is especially conscious of help from Professor -Gilbert Murray in interpreting some of the Women of Tragedy. A note of -the sources of the quotations will be found at the end of each chapter. - - - - -_Homer: Helen_ - - -In the twilight of early Greek history, one event and one name blaze -like beacons. They are the siege of Troy and the name of Helen. They -have not come down to us as cold fact, but burning through a mist of -legend and poetry. The historian cannot name the date of the Trojan war; -and the archæologist, whose labours have been so fruitful at Mycenæ and -in Crete, can only point doubtfully to the ancient site of Troy. - -Yet that event, and its cause, fair Helen of Sparta, may be said to mark -the beginning of national life for the Greeks. Perhaps it was more than -two thousand years before Christ when all the little peoples of Greece -first joined themselves against barbarian Asia. Troy fell; and although -the victory brought little material reward to the Greeks; though they -sailed back to their island homes poorer and sadder than when they left, -they had in fact achieved momentous gains. For the struggle had first -taught them the strength of unity: it had launched them on their long -and triumphant feud against barbarism; and it had laid the base from -which they might go on to build, through the long, slow centuries, the -civilization that we inherit. - -There was no historian to record the event. But it lived on, in memory -and in legend; and as the people became more settled, wandering bards -made songs about it. The rich Mycenæn Age flourished and died; and the -Homeric civilization took its place. Probably it was then that the -floating fragments of the Tale of Troy first were woven together, -providing material for the Homeric epics that we know as the _Iliad_ and -the _Odyssey_. Probably they were not written down at first. They were -composed, and recited, in separate parts, in the halls of the great -lords, who loved to look back on this glorious event of their national -life, and to hear the names of their remote and half-mythical ancestors -brought into the story. Thus Homer, no matter who he or his school may -have been, comes to represent a high stage of civilization. His poems -have a lofty tone, a chivalrous spirit, a sweet cleanliness of thought -and of word, which do not belong to a primitive, uncivilized people. -They do not, as a fact, belong naturally to the early period of which he -sings. In the time of that grim struggle before the dawn of history, -there must have been much that was ugly, dark and barbarous. This is -proved to us by the survival of some of the older legends upon which -Homer worked. They tell of unnatural crime and of deeds of horror such -as he never mentions; and they give us, too, a very different -interpretation of the story of Helen. Homer puts aside all these -vestiges of a primitive past. He is composing lays for a people who have -a keen sense of honour, a supreme ideal of beauty and a love of home; -who have a religious feeling strong enough to reverence the gods, -despite their many hieratic quarrels, and who hold womanhood in high -esteem. So when we come to him to hear about Helen, we find a very sweet -and gracious figure, quite unlike the Helen of the later poets. With -them she was degraded from her rank of demi-god. She was regarded as a -real figure, brought down to the level of ordinary existence, and judged -by the common standard. The romantic charm of the Homeric conception -faded; and her name had for centuries an evil sound. It has passed -through many vicissitudes since. In late Greek literature, one or two -poets tried to return to the reverent attitude of Homer: but in the -Middle Ages she became again a byword and a reproach. At the -Renaissance, something of her early worship as an ideal of beauty was -revived, and our own Marlowe has passionately expressed the thought of -that age about her: - - _Was this the face that launched a thousand ships, - And burnt the topless towers of Ilium? - Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.... - Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air, - Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars._ - -It is this vision of Helen, as the supreme ideal of beauty, that modern -poets and scholars have tried to recapture. They have put aside the -varied allegorical and ethical and realistic conceptions of her, as the -efforts of a more sophisticated age; and they have tried to return -directly to the fine simplicity of Homer himself. Only thus, they -believe, can we stand at the right point of view with regard to Helen; -and only thus can we see her as she was to the Greeks, a symbol of -beauty incorruptible. We, who have to make our own choice in the matter, -cannot do better than try to stand at the point where the moderns have -placed us. - -We come then at once to the Iliad, where, in the Third Book, Helen makes -her first appearance in the world’s literature. War has been raging -round the walls of Troy for nearly ten years. Now a truce is called; and -in the palace of the old king Priam, word goes round that Paris, the -author of the long feud, is to fight in single combat with Menelaus, -whom he has wronged. For Paris had brought the bane of war upon Ilios. -At his birth, the oracles of the gods had demanded that he should die; -and Priam, his father, sorrowfully handed over the wailing baby to the -priest, to be exposed upon Mount Ida. But first he tied an old ring -about his neck; and when Paris was strangely saved from death, and grew -up to be the fairest and strongest of all the shepherd youths on Ida, he -came one day by accident to Ilios. There, by means of the jewel hanging -from his neck, he was made known as the son of the king. Thenceforward -the poor shepherd was the best beloved of all the princes. Life went -gaily; and for a while he was utterly content. But he had left behind, -amidst the groves of Mount Ida, a sweet wood-nymph who loved him well, -Enone. And when after a time he began to tire of life in the palace, he -remembered her and thought longingly of the freshness and beauty of the -mountain. So one day in summer he went to seek Enone. All day long he -searched the forest, but could not find her; and coming tired at evening -to a fragrant glade, he fell asleep. When he awoke, night was hushed all -around, and stars peeped through the slender branches overhead. It was -midnight and there was no moon; but it was not dark. The glade was -filled with a soft radiance such as he had never seen before, and when -he raised his wondering eyes, he saw the majestical figures of goddesses -shining upon him: Hera, queen of Olympus, Athena, the wise maid of Zeus, -and Aphrodite, the laughing goddess of love. Sweetly they smiled on him; -and as he stood in wondering awe, the deep, rich tones of Hera sank upon -his spirit, promising him greatness and power, and the lordship over -many lands. Then Athena, resting her starlike gaze upon him, promised -him wisdom and courage; and Aphrodite, with a little mocking laugh at -power and at wisdom, promised him the fairest woman in the world. Only, -and this was to be the price of the gift, he was to be the arbiter -between them: he was to declare which was most beautiful. - -There was only one answer possible to Paris. Ambition had no lure for -him. Why fight and strive and spend the happy days in effort merely to -be called great? And wisdom had no appeal for him either; she seemed -austere and cold. What had she to do with the joy and grace and -sweetness that his soul loved? To the sublimity of Hera he bent in awe. -The shining purity of Athena smote his glance to the earth. But the -voice of Aphrodite wooed him, and her winsome smile set him trembling -with delight. He reached out to her the golden prize of beauty. - -So Paris was to gain the fairest woman in the world. It seemed an honest -promise, full of the happiest portent; and the young prince soon set out -upon his search for a bride over the western seas. But Aphrodite was no -better than a cheat, and had invoked on Paris, though he did not know it -then, the curse of guilty love. For the exquisite child who was to be -the world’s queen of beauty had grown up in the home of Tyndareus, king -of Sparta; and even while the goddess gave her word to Paris, was -happily married to Menelaus there. To her and to her husband Paris came -in his wanderings, led unwittingly by the laughter-loving goddess, and -clothed by her in beauty like a god. They feasted him and did him -honour; and sitting at the banquet which they made to him, he told the -strange tale of his life and his quest. - -Helen listened to his story with a sudden prescience of what was to -come; and rising softly, left the banqueting hall and went away to -implore the goddess to avert the doom. But she was no match for -Aphrodite. Anger and entreaty could not move the wanton Olympian, but -she would grant one boon—Helen should be oblivious of all her past. -Under the spell, the love of husband and child faded out; and even the -memory of them vanished when on that spring morning in the garden of the -palace, Paris met her beside the stream, ‘’twixt the lily and the rose.’ - - _Then either looked on other with amaze - As each had seen a god; for no long while - They marvell’d, but as in the first of days, - The first of men and maids did meet and smile, - And Aphrodite did their hearts beguile, - So hands met hands, lips lips, with no word said - Were they enchanted ‘neath the leafy aisle, - And silently were wooed, betroth’d and wed._[1] - -Together they fled in the dewy morning, Paris urging his horses with -guilty haste to the ships. And there, with Menelaus thundering along the -road after them, they set sail for Troy, fulfilling the old prophecy, -and lighting a brand by their deed which should burn the sacred city to -the ground. For Tyndareus, when he chose a husband for Helen amongst her -many suitors, had won a promise that they would all defend the one who -gained her. Agamemnon, brother to Menelaus, and the great overlord of -the Hellenic princes, now summoned the allies to avenge his brother, and -for ten years they toiled at fitting out a fleet. Then they ‘launched a -thousand ships,’ and sailed to punish Ilios for the sin of Paris. - -[Illustration: - - HELEN OF TROY - - _Lord Leighton_ - - _By permission of Henry Graves & Co Ltd_ -] - -Meantime, Helen had wakened sadly from the spell of Aphrodite. Little by -little memory of her home came back, and with it came remorse. She was -lonely too, and disillusion crept upon her. The Trojans, who at first -had welcomed her as a goddess, soon began to look askance at her when -rumours came of the great siege that was preparing. Mothers and wives of -the Trojan princes held aloof; and soon the only friends left to her -were the kind old king and Hector, the noble defender of the city. But -there was worse behind. Little by little the truth dawned that Paris, -for whom she had lost so much, and who had seemed so godlike in his -strength and beauty, was very poor humanity indeed. The story of Enone -was told to her; and that showed him unfaithful. And when the Leaguer -actually lay beneath the walls, she soon found that Paris was a coward -too. - -Now, in this Third Iliad, we find that the cruel siege had wasted Troy -for nearly ten years. The armies, reduced by death and pestilence and -famine, were beginning to murmur against the worthless cause of all -their misery; and Paris, for very shame, could no longer shelter himself -within the city. At this eleventh hour he issued out to meet Menelaus in -single combat. Helen was sitting in her inner hall, weaving a purple web -and embroidering upon it the battle scenes which ebbed and flowed around -the walls. Time and sorrow had only given her beauty an added charm. She -was still young, fresh, and exquisitely fair, as on that spring morning -in Lacedaemon when Aphrodite graced her for the meeting with Paris. To -her, as her sweet face bent over the web, the goddess Iris brought the -news of the impending combat: “They that erst waged tearful war upon -each other in the plain, eager for deadly battle, even they sit now in -silence, and the battle is stayed, and they lean upon their shields, and -the tall spears are planted by their sides. But Paris and Menelaus dear -to Ares will fight with their tall spears for thee; and thou wilt be -declared the dear wife of him that conquereth.” - -At the name of Menelaus a wave of homesickness filled Helen’s heart. -Great tears flooded her eyes, and drawing on a shining veil, she left -her embroideries and hastened out to the Skaian gates to watch the duel. -But there, sitting upon the tower, were Priam and his counsellors; and -Helen and her maids hesitated at sight of them. They were feeble old -men. The fire and strength of youth had gone, leaving in their place the -cold wisdom of age. They and their people had suffered deeply because of -Helen; and they had every cause to hate her. Yet as she approached, -veiled and slackening her pace from fear when she saw them, all their -wrongs were forgotten in wonderment at her beauty. They who had potent -reasons to revile her were saying softly among themselves, almost in -awe, as those who had seen a vision: “’Small blame is it that Trojans -and well-greaved Achaians should for such a woman long time suffer -hardships; marvellously like is she to the immortal goddesses to look -upon.’ ... So said they; and Priam lifted up his voice and called to -Helen: ‘Come hither, dear child, and sit before me, that thou mayst see -thy former husband and thy kinsfolk and thy friends. I hold thee not to -blame; nay, I hold the gods to blame who brought on me the dolorous war -of the Achaians’.” “And Helen, fair among women, spake, and answered -him: ‘Reverend art thou to me and dread, dear father of my lord. Would -that sore death had been my pleasure when I followed thy son hither, and -left my home and my kinsfolk and my daughter in her girlhood and the -lovely company of mine age-fellows. But that was not so, wherefore I -pine with weeping’.”[2] - -Then Helen pointed out to the king and the elders the great heroes of -the Greek line: “This is wide-ruling Agamemnon, one that is both a -goodly king and mighty spearman. And he was husband’s brother to me, ah -shameless me; if ever such an one there was.” Odysseus, too, and Ajax -and Idomeneus, she can see; but two whom her eyes seek longingly are not -there, her twin brothers, Castor and Pollux. “Either they came not in -the company from lovely Lacedaemon; or they came hither indeed in their -seafaring ships, but now will not enter into the battle of the warriors, -for fear of the many scornings and revilings that are mine.”[2] - -Presently, Paris and Menelaus are engaged in fight below the walls, with -Helen looking on from above in fearful expectancy. It was an unequal -fight. Aphrodite had joined the side of Paris; and when, despite her -tricks, Menelaus was gaining on his opponent, the goddess enveloped -Paris in a cloud and carried him off. In plain words, he ran away; and -Helen, shamed and indignant, received a summons from Aphrodite to go to -her cowardly lover. She turned in wrath upon the goddess: “Strange -queen, why art thou desirous now to beguile me? Go and sit thou by his -side, and depart from the way of the gods; neither let thy feet ever -bear thee back to Olympus, but still be vexed for his sake and guard him -till he make thee his wife or perchance his slave. But thither will I -not go—that were a sinful thing—to array the bed of him; all the women -of Troy will blame me hereafter; and I have griefs untold within my -soul.”[2] - -Aphrodite triumphs, however, menacing Helen with terrible threats; and -leads her back to the house of Paris. Meanwhile, the gods ‘on golden -pavement round the board of Zeus’ had decreed that Troy should fall: -Hera and Athena were to wreak their vengeance upon it, for the insult of -Paris. The truce broken, the armies rushed into conflict again, and two -of the gods who were warring for Troy, were driven back to Olympus. Then -Hector came into the palace to rouse his brother, and found him sitting -in Helen’s room, polishing his armour. To the scornful reproaches of -Hector, Paris gave only puerile answers, and Helen turned from him to -Hector in passionate scorn. “Dear brother mine, would that on the day -that my mother bare me, a billow of the loud-sounding sea might have -swept me away before all these things came to pass. Howbeit, seeing that -the gods devised all these ills in this wise, would that then I had been -mated with a better man, that felt dishonour and the multitude of men’s -reproachings. But as for him, neither has he now sound heart, nor ever -will have; therefore deem I moreover that he will reap the fruit.”[2] - -Hector answered her with a gentle word, and went out, bearing on his -shoulders the doom of Troy. In his chivalrous kindness to Helen, he is a -worthy son of Priam; and when he was slain at last, fighting for his -beloved city alone with the terrible Achilles, Helen joined her lament -to those of his mother and his wife, in perhaps the most noble tribute -to his memory: “Hector, of all my brethren of Troy, far dearest to my -heart. Truly my lord is godlike Paris who brought me to Troy-land; would -that I had died ere then. For this is now the twentieth year since I -went thence and am gone from my own native land, but never yet heard I -evil or despiteful word from thee; nay, if any other haply upbraided me -in the palace halls, whether brother or sister of thine or brother’s -fair-robed wife, or thy mother, then wouldst thou soothe such with words -and refrain them, by the gentleness of thy spirit and by thy gentle -words. Therefore bewail I thee with pain at heart, and my hapless self -with thee, for no more is any left in wide Troy-land to be my friend and -kind to me, but all men shudder at me.”[2] - -Almost with these words the poem closes, telling us nothing of the -dreadful sack of Troy by the Achaians, after they had entered the city -through the device of the wooden horse. Our last glimpse of Helen in the -Iliad is as she wails her mournful threnos over the body of Hector. - - _And Helen’s sorrow brake into lament - As bursts a lake the barriers of a hill, - For lost, lost, lost was that one friend who still - Stood by her with kind speech and gentle heart._[1] - -We hear no word of the Greek calamity in the fall of Achilles, or how -Paris was slain by the arrow of the outcast Philoctetes, with perfect -poetical justice. Nothing is told of the massacre of Priam and his sons; -of the burning of the city; of the carrying off of its wealth and of its -fair women when the Greeks, sated with revenge at last, set sail for -Argos. And we hear no word of the most amazing fact of all—the -reconciliation of Helen and Menelaus. We know from the _Odyssey_ that -they were reconciled, but how, Homer does not say. Legend and song have -been busy with the theme, however, and the most beautiful story has been -woven by Andrew Lang into his _Helen of Troy_. There we see how -Aphrodite in the midst of the slaughter and outrage, led Helen in safety -to the ships, while Menelaus raged through the city seeking her, grimly -determined to give her over to the vengeance of the army. - - _But Helen found he never where the flame - Sprang to the roofs, and Helen ne’er he found - Where flocked the wretched women in their shame - The helpless altars of the gods around...._ - - _So wounded to his hut and wearily - Came Menelaus; and he bowed his head - Beneath the lintel neither fair nor high; - And lo, queen Helen lay upon his bed, - Flush’d like a child asleep, and rosy-red, - And at his footstep did she wake and smile, - And spake: “My lord, how hath thy hunting sped? - Methinks that I have slept a weary while.”_[1] - -Lulled again by the arts of Aphrodite, Helen has completely forgotten -all that has happened in the dreadful interval of the years since she -last fell asleep at Lacedaemon. But Menelaus feels the fierce anger rise -in his heart against her. He seizes and binds her, and carries her off -to deliver her to the vengeance of the people. He reminds them of all -they have endured and suffered, and calls upon them to mete to her the -just death for such an one as she. But when the soldiers in their rage -would have stoned her; when Menelaus rushed upon her with uplifted -spear, Aphrodite drew the veil from before her matchless face. - - _And as in far-off days that were to be, - The sense of their own sin did men constrain, - That they must leave the sinful woman free - Who, by their law, had verily been slain, - So Helen’s beauty made their anger vain, - And one by one their gathered flints let fall; - And like men shamed they stole across the plain, - Back to the swift ships and their festival._[1] - -So Helen went home to Lacedaemon again, the dear wife of Menelaus. And -when we take up the second great Homeric epic, the _Odyssey_, we find -her the serene and gracious hostess of young Telemachus. All the hateful -past is purged away, and chaste as the moon-goddess, - - _Forth of her high-roofed, odorous chamber came - Helen, like golden-shafted Artemis._[3] - -She still remembers the horror of those days; and when Menelaus is -wondering who the stranger prince is who has sought their hospitality, -Helen’s quick wit perceives how like he is to Odysseus. Is not this, she -asks, the son whom Odysseus left in his house as a new-born child when -the war began? - - “_And for the sake of me who knew not shame - Under Troy town your host Achaean came._”[3] - -It is indeed the son of Odysseus; and by the irony of fate he has come -to inquire from the very author of his sorrows, news of the father who, -for aught Helen knows, has long ago been driven by Poseidon to the House -of Hades. - - _Wept Argive Helen, child of Zeus, and wept - Telemachus, and with him at the word - Wept Menelaus._[3] - -But the ready tears of heroes are soon dried. They cheer Telemachus so -far as they may by tales of his father’s craft and courage before Troy; -and Helen mixes for him the cup of Nepenthe, which steeps memory in a -mist and banishes care and calls a smile to the lips. She does not -herself taste of the magic drink, however; she has no wish to forget. -Secure now in the peace of home and enfolded by generous forgiveness, -she will always remember, until she comes to pass through Lethe on her -way to the Elysian fields. And there, when the time came, she was -translated ‘where falls not rain, or hail, or any snow.’ A shrine was -built to her, and Greek men and maidens worshipped her as one of the -immortal gods themselves. - - _O’er Helen’s shrine the grass is growing green, - In desolate Therapnae; none the less - Her sweet face now unworshipped and unseen - Abides the symbol of all loveliness, - Of Beauty ever stainless in the stress - Of warring lusts and fears; and still divine, - Still ready with immortal peace to bless - Them that with pure hearts worship at her shrine._[1] - ------ - -Footnote 1: - - From Mr Andrew Lang’s _Helen of Troy_ (G. Bell and Sons Ltd.). - -Footnote 2: - - From Messrs Lang, Leaf, and Myers’s translation of the _Iliad_ - (Macmillan and Co. Ltd.). - -Footnote 3: - - From Professor J. W. Mackail’s translation of the _Odyssey_ (John - Murray). - - - - -_Homer: Andromache_ - - -Andromache was the young wife of Hector, Priam’s warrior son and -defender of Troy. Over against the figure of Helen in the _Iliad_ her -gentle integrity stands in mute reproach. It is as though Homer, whose -chivalry to Helen will not permit him to censure her, yet feels the -claim of a larger chivalry—to womanhood itself. So he seems impelled to -create this type of gracious purity, vindicating wifely honour and -motherly tenderness; and proving at the same time that if his race had a -high ideal of beauty, it had also a profound regard for domestic ties. - -Helen and Andromache, therefore, stand side by side in the action of the -poem. Their destinies are linked: their lives are passed within the same -walls: they own the same relationship to king Priam and to Hecuba the -queen; and they are united in suffering. But always they are as far -apart in spirit as conscious guilt on the one hand and indignant -rectitude on the other ever held two daughters of Eve. Andromache, like -all the men and women of heroic poetry, was very human. And we have the -feeling that she could not rise to Hector’s generosity toward the -Spartan woman for whose sake Paris had brought the war on Ilios. Perhaps -the reason was that she had suffered more deeply on Helen’s account. And -if she had joined in those reproaches which Helen wailed about in her -threnos over Hector’s body, it was from bitter cause. - -Andromache had been happy, and a princess, in her girlhood days, before -Paris brought a Greek bride from Sparta. Her father was Eëtion, king of -Thebes, in ‘wooded Plakos’; and in those times she had a gentle mother -and seven strong brothers. But the Greeks came, and in the long years -when the Leaguer lay beneath Troy, their terrible hero Achilles had -ravaged the countries around, and had taken the city of Thebes. He had -slain Eëtion her father and the seven fine youths who were her brothers. -Her mother, too, though ransomed from the Greeks for a great price, had -died of grief; and Andromache, utterly forlorn, had found refuge in the -halls of Priam. She found a mate there too; and in the love of Hector, -her father and mother and brothers were all given back to her. - -Homer makes the tender devotion of this noble pair stand out in gracious -contrast to the stormy passion of Paris and Helen. Yet he does not tell -us much about Andromache. He does not describe her—indeed, he very -rarely draws a picture of his women—but we know that she is beautiful. -In some subtle way there is left on our mind an impression of blended -grace and dignity, of sweetness and tenderness and fidelity; but we are -not directly told that she possesses these qualities. We do not even see -her till, in the Sixth Book of the _Iliad_, the time has come for her to -part from her husband. - -The Greeks were at the very gates of Troy, and the last phase had come -for the sacred city. Diomedes had driven their god Ares from the field, -bellowing with the pain of a wound; and Hector, who saw the end was -coming, hurried into the palace to rouse his followers and beg the queen -to pray for the cause of Troy in the Temple of Athena. Then, before -returning to the fight, he snatched the opportunity to see his wife and -child once more. At first he could not find them. Andromache was not in -the palace, nor in the Temple of Athena where the matrons of the city -were propitiating the goddess. She had heard that the Trojans were hard -pressed, and in fear for her husband she had gone down to the tower to -watch the battle from the walls. - -“Hector hastened from his house back by the same way down the -well-builded streets. When he had passed through the great city and was -come to the Skaian gates, whereby he was minded to issue upon the plain, -there came his dear-won wife running to meet him.... So she met him now, -and with her went the handmaid bearing in her bosom the tender boy, the -little child, Hector’s loved son, like unto a beautiful star.... So now -he smiled and gazed at his boy silently, and Andromache stood by his -side weeping, and clasped her hand in his, and spake and called upon his -name. ‘Dear my lord, this thy hardihood will undo thee, neither hast -thou any pity for thine infant boy, nor for me forlorn that soon shall -be thy widow; for soon will the Achaeans all set upon thee and slay -thee. But it were better for me to go down to the grave if I lose thee; -for never more will any comfort be mine, when once thou, even thou, hast -met thy fate, but only sorrow’.”[4] - -So she weeps to him, forgetting the heroic, as heroes often do in -overwhelming human sorrow. Hector is human too; and as she pours out all -the pleas that touch him most nearly—her love for him, his love for her, -and their mutual love for their child—he cannot utter the reply of the -soldier and defender of his people. Andromache thinks she sees an -instant of wavering in his eyes; she catches at it wildly, and rushes on -to tell of a place where he and his men may screen themselves from the -enemy. But that word has lost her cause. Hector’s great refusal is brave -and gentle: “Surely ... I have very sore shame ... if like a coward I -shrink away from battle. Moreover mine own soul forbiddeth me.... Yea of -a surety I know ... the day shall come for holy Ilios to be laid low.... -Yet doth the anguish of the Trojans hereafter not so much trouble me, -neither Hekabe’s own, neither king Priam’s, neither my brethren’s ... as -doth thine anguish in the day when some mail-clad Achaian shall ... rob -thee of the light of freedom.... But me in death may the heaped-up earth -be covering, ere I hear thy crying and thy carrying into captivity.”[4] - -Andromache can find no answer, and there is silence between them as -Hector turns to caress his boy. But the child shrinks to his nurse in -fear of the shining helmet and nodding crest; and the parents laugh -through their tears. - -“Then his dear father laughed aloud, and his lady mother; forthwith -glorious Hector took the helmet from his head, and laid it, all -gleaming, upon the earth; then kissed he his dear son and dandled him in -his arms, and spake in prayer to Zeus and all the gods, ... ‘Vouchsafe -ye that this my son may likewise prove even as I, pre-eminent amid the -Trojans, and as valiant in might, and be a great king of Ilios. May men -say of him, “Far greater is he than his father,” as he returneth from -battle; ... and may his mother’s heart be glad’.”[4] - -In his warrior-prayer Andromache cannot join; and to us who know the -fate of Hector’s son, there is appalling irony in this appeal to the -gods. She takes her boy into her arms, smiling tearfully. - -“And her husband had pity to see her, and caressed her with his hand and -spake and called upon her name: ‘Dear one, I pray thee be not of -over-sorrowful heart; no man against my fate shall hurl me to Hades.... -But go thou to thine house and see to thine own tasks ... but for war -shall men provide, and I in chief of all men that dwell in Ilios.’ - -“So spake glorious Hector, and took up his horsehair-crested helmet; and -his dear wife departed to her home, oft looking back, and letting fall -big tears.”[4] - -But the end had not quite come for Hector and his beloved Troy. For a -time the tide of battle rolled back against the Greeks, and while -Achilles fumed idly in his tent, Hector pressed upon them until he had -forced them back to their ships. The immortals came into the field -again; and success swayed to one or the other side, as Zeus to the -Trojans or Hera to the Greeks lent aid. Then Hector slew Patroclus, the -dear friend of Achilles; and that event drew the Greek hero forth at -last, raging in grief and anger. Furnished with new armour by his -goddess-mother Thetis, Achilles went out against the Trojans like a -destroying flame. He drove them into the city with terrible slaughter; -and then faced Hector alone outside the Skaian gates, and slew him -there. - -Meanwhile Andromache had won a little hope again, from the past few days -of success to the Trojan arms. She knew nothing of the duel, and her -husband’s fate at the hands of Achilles; but was sitting quietly within -her hall, while the maids prepared warm baths for his return. - -“Then she called to her goodly-haired maids through the house to set a -great tripod on the fire, that Hector might have warm washing when he -came home out of the battle—fond heart, and was unaware how, far from -all washings, bright-eyed Athene had slain him by the hand of Achilles. -But she heard shrieks and groans from the battlements, and her limbs -reeled, and the shuttle fell from her hands to the earth. Then again -among her goodly haired maids she spake: ‘Come two of ye this way with -me that I may see what deeds are done ... terribly I dread lest noble -Achilles have cut off bold Hector from the city by himself and chased -him to the plain and ere this ended his perilous pride that possessed -him, for never would he tarry among the throng of men but ran out before -them far, yielding place to no man in his hardihood.’ - -“Thus saying she sped through the chamber like one mad, with beating -heart, and with her went her handmaidens. But when she came to the -battlements and the throng of men, she stood still upon the wall and -gazed, and beheld him dragged before the city:—swift horses dragged him -recklessly toward the hollow ships of the Achaians. Then dark night came -on her eyes and shrouded her, and she fell backward and gasped forth her -spirit.”[4] - -We must not dwell upon the grim vengeance which Achilles took upon the -dead body of Hector, for the life of his friend; nor the wonderful -funeral rites for Patroclus; nor the pitiful story of old Priam’s visit -to Achilles at dead of night, to beg for the body of his great son: - - _Before the throne of great Achilles see - The broken king kissing the deadly hands - Whereby his house is left him desolate._[4] - -[Illustration: - - CAPTIVE ANDROMACHE - - _Lord Leighton_ - - _By permission of the Berlin Photographic Co. 133 New Bond St. W._ -] - -But when the poor insulted body was at last recovered, all the city went -out to meet it and bring it in with lamentation. Andromache led the -women, wailing in her grief: “Husband, thou art gone young from life, -and leavest me a widow in thy halls. And the child is yet but a little -one, child of ill-fated parents, thee and me; nor methinks shall he grow -up to manhood, for ere then shall this city be utterly destroyed. For -thou art verily perished who didst watch over it, who guardest it and -keptest safe its noble wives and infant little ones. These soon shall be -voyaging in the hollow ships, yea and I too with them, and thou, my -child, shalt either go with me unto a place where thou shalt toil at -unseemly tasks, labouring before the face of some harsh lord, or else -some Achaian will take thee by the arm and hurl thee from the -battlement, a grievous death.... And woe unspeakable and mourning hast -thou left to thy parents, Hector, but with me chiefliest shall grievous -pain abide. For neither didst thou stretch thy hands to me from a bed in -thy death, neither didst speak to me some memorable word that I might -have thought on evermore as my tears fall night and day.”[4] - -Andromache’s foreboding was only too completely fulfilled, for although -Homer does not tell us of it, we know that when the truce for Hector’s -funeral was over, Troy fell into the hands of the Greeks. The horrors of -that day are related over and over again by the poets—the ruthless -massacre of Priam and his sons, the capture of the women and children -and the burning of the city. Euripides tells us in his _Troades_ what -befell Andromache. This drama, written centuries after the _Iliad_, has -been called by Professor Gilbert Murray, “the first great expression of -pity for mankind in European literature.” The subject was, indeed, one -to evoke profoundest pity, and the poet, reflective and humane, seems to -select it purposely to reveal the dreadful underside of war. He brings -the figure of Hecuba upon the stage, weighed down under innumerable -woes: Cassandra, too, in a dark prophetic frenzy, foretelling her own -doom and that of Agamemnon: Helen, confronted at last by Menelaus; and -Andromache, borne in the chariot of her captor, with the baby Astyanax -in her arms. - -LEADER OF CHORUS. _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?_ - -ANDROMACHE. _Forth to the Greek I go, - Driven as a beast is driven._ - -HECUBA. _Woe! Woe!..._ - -ANDROMACHE. _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. _O my Hector! best beloved, - That, being mine, wast all in all to me, - My prince, my wise one, O my majesty - Of valiance!..._ - - _Thou art dead, - And I war-flung to slavery and the bread - Of shame in Hellas, over bitter seas._[5] - -But the crowning horror remains. As Andromache and the queen are taking -mournful leave of each other, a hurried messenger arrives from the Greek -leaders. His message is almost too dreadful to utter; but he stammers it -at last—the victors have resolved that Andromache’s son must die. They -will spare no slip of Priam’s stock to be a future menace; and Astyanax -is to be cast down therefore from the city towers. - -To Andromache it is an appalling blow, worse than all that she has yet -suffered. She cannot realize it at first, and answers the herald in -broken, incredulous phrases. But when the man, ruefully trying to soothe -her meanwhile, at last makes it clear to her that her child must die, -all her gentleness is suddenly swept away in fierce wrath against her -enemies. - - “_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?_“[5] - -Her own wrongs, though deep and shameful, she could bear; but the -cruelty to her child is insupportable. All the graciousness and dignity -of her nature break down under it; and carried beyond herself, she calls -down wild curses upon her conquerors, and upon Helen, the origin of all -her woes. Then, suddenly realizing the futility of her rage and her -powerlessness to save Astyanax, she yields him to the Herald in a -poignant outburst of grief: - - “_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!_“[5] - -So Andromache was taken alone into captivity. Of all that befell her -there we do not know; but there are hints and fragments which suggest -that the gods must have relented a little, at sight of her misery. For -long afterward, when the Trojan prince Æneas set out to found another -Troy in Latium, he anchored his fleet one day in the bay of Chaonia. And -there, as he wandered upon the shore, he found Andromache. Her cruel -captor was dead; and she was married to Helenus, the brother of Hector. -But she had not forgotten her hero-husband, and when Æneas and his -companions came upon her first, she was paying devotions at his tomb: - - _Within a grove Andromache that day, - Where Simois in fancy flowed again, - Her offerings chanced at Hector’s grave to pay, - A turf-built cenotaph, with altars twain, - Source of her tears and sacred to the slain— - And called his shade._[6] - ------ - -Footnote 4: - - From Messrs Lang, Leaf, and Myers’s translation of the _Iliad_ - (Macmillan and Co. Ltd.). 1909 Edition. - -Footnote 5: - - From Professor Gilbert Murray’s translation of the _Troades_ (George - Allen and Co. Ltd.). - -Footnote 6: - - From E. Fairfax Taylor’s translation of the _Æneid_ (Everyman’s - Library). - - - - -_Homer: Penelope_ - - -We come now to the _Odyssey_, the second Homeric epic; and to its -heroine, wise Penelope. - -Nominally, we have left the _Iliad_ behind by a space of several years. -Troy had fallen, and the Greeks were homeward bound, fewer in number and -sadder at heart than when the fleet had sailed ten years before. Some -few of them reached home in safety. But for the most part, the return -voyages were only accomplished with tremendous hardship and peril; and -many who had escaped death at Troy found it at the hands of Poseidon, -earth-shaking sea-god. Of proud Agamemnon, and the fate that awaited him -in his palace at Mycenæ, we shall hear presently. We are concerned now -with the wanderings of Odysseus, and how he won home at last to the -faithful love of Penelope. - -But after all, the connexion between the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ is -only nominal. The links between them, although they seem strong and real -at first, do not in any sense unite the two poems. It is true that there -is the imaginary relation of time; that the _Odyssey_ relates the -subsequent adventures of one of the heroes who actually fought at the -siege of Troy; and, more important still, that it shows him to possess -upon the whole the same qualities which he possessed in the _Iliad_. But -when that is said, there remains the fact of a contrast between the -poems which almost persuades us that in the _Odyssey_ we are in a -different world. This contrast is best seen in the antithesis between -the two heroes of the poems; and indeed between the two great heroines -too. In the _Iliad_, Achilles stands for physical beauty and strength, -young enthusiasm and ardent courage. When Odysseus appears there, as he -sometimes does, he is overshone by the splendour of Achilles. Although -he is the brain of the enterprise, he is in quite a secondary place to -the physical magnificence of the younger hero. When we come to the later -poem, however, we find that intelligence has risen to the higher plane. -Odysseus is now the hero—not, like Achilles, an ideal of bodily strength -and beauty: not a man of wrath, flaming over the battlefield in -vengeance for his friend: not merely a warrior, product of a warlike -age. Odysseus is by no means lacking in courage; and he has not outgrown -the need for war. But he has many other qualities besides, and his -fighting is usually prompted by necessity. - -It is significant that the character of Achilles is developed in -conflict with the war-god, Ares; while Odysseus is whelmed in a ‘sea of -troubles,’ literally heaped upon him by Poseidon. Struggling constantly -against the rage of the elements, Odysseus becomes alert and cautious, -patient and painstaking and resourceful: a great constructive energy, as -contrasted with the destroying fury of Achilles. The poet’s epithet for -Odysseus is ‘subtle’ as that for Achilles had been ‘swift’; and the -emphasis is always laid upon his qualities of brain and nerve. He is not -a very imposing figure, and has little physical beauty. When his friends -would praise him, it is gifts of mind rather than of body to which they -refer. He is ‘the just one’ who does no injury ‘as is the way of -princes’; the kindly ruler, who is ‘like a father’ to help his people; -the faithful husband who can flatter and cajole his goddess-gaoler, in -desperate anxiety to be home with his dear wife; the loyal comrade who -will risk the enchantments of Circe rather than forsake his men without -an effort; the gracious master whose servants ‘mourn and pine’ because -of his long absence. And all the way through the poem, in passages which -are too numerous to quote, there is a running tribute to his wisdom. -Zeus himself, with other gods and goddesses; kings and queens; nymphs, -naiads and enchantresses; swineherds and domestic servants; soldiers and -sailors; strangers and homefolk; friends and enemies, all add their word -to the eulogium of his wit. - -Now Penelope, who is the perfect mate for such a man as this, is for -that very reason contrasted with Helen as strongly as her husband is -contrasted with the hero of the _Iliad_. It is not merely that her -personality is totally unlike Helen’s, although that is true. The -contrast is rooted in something deeper—in the whole conception of the -poet, the manner of life out of which the poem came, the theme of which -it treats. In the _Iliad_ we are quite literally moving amongst -demi-gods. Helen, reputed daughter of Tyndareus, is really the child of -Zeus; and Achilles has the nereid Thetis for his mother. Something of -their divine origin clings to them, making them awful and magnificent. -In all that they do and are they are greater than mere human folk. They -move majestically, and they are not to be approached too nearly, or -judged by the common standard, or compared with the ordinary race of -men. Troy itself, to which their names cling, was a city built by gods. - -But Odysseus and Penelope are frankly mortal; and in that one fact they -approach nearer to us by many degrees. They are no longer colossal -figures hovering, as it were, about the base of Mt. Olympus, and driven -this way and that in the surge of Olympian quarrels. They are a man and -woman, with their feet firmly planted upon the earth, and their -affections rooted there too. They claim no kinship with the gods: they -take no part in Olympian warfare: they have no care for the issues which -are called great. Their story, reduced to its elements, is of the -simplest kind: the call of dear home ties upon the man, the fidelity and -prudence of the woman. And in this ‘touch of common things,’ Penelope -becomes a much more real figure than Helen. - -Of course that is not to say that Penelope is ‘real’ in the technical -sense of the word. She is in fact almost as much a creature of romance -as Helen is. But she appears before us as a living woman with human -hopes and joys and sorrows; with human virtues too, and certain very -human weaknesses. We can never regard the heroine of the _Iliad_ just in -this way. If we could, and if we dared to lift the veil which the poet -always interposes between us and the character of Helen, it would stand -revealed slight and trembling in its amiability: fatally soft, with no -vein of essential strength. Now it is that essential strength which -characterizes Penelope. The wooers realized it; and Antinous made it the -chief point of his defence: - - _Athena has bestowed on her - Wisdom of mind and excellence of skill_ - - _In beautiful devices manifold - Beyond all others, such as is not told - Even of those famous in the former time, - Achaean women lovely-tressed of old,_ - - _Tyro, Alcmena, and Mycene crowned— - Even among these the equal was not found - In wise devices of Penelope._[7] - -There is a significant silence about Penelope’s beauty; and she has not -eternal youth as Helen has. But when we have seen her eyes light upon -her boy Telemachus, and the radiance of her face as the strange old -beggarman told her about her husband, we shall waive the question of -æsthetics. We shall be prepared to maintain Penelope’s beauty against -all-comers; and we shall not be much concerned that the poet rather -avoids the subject. For he would not dream of a soul which did not know -that sweetness and dignity and a gentle heart, grief endured patiently -and love unswerving, would make for themselves a worthy habitation. -Beside Helen’s exquisite fairness, Penelope would seem a little faded; -and her sweet gravity would be almost a reproach. She cannot compare for -one moment with Calypso, as Odysseus had to confess when the goddess -blamed him for his homesickness: - - “_Goddess and mistress, be not wroth with me - Herein: for very well myself I know - That, set beside you, wise Penelope_ - - “_Were far less stately and less fair to view, - Being but mortal woman, nor like you - Ageless and deathless: but even so, - I long and yearn to see my home anew._“[7] - -The keynote of the _Odyssey_ is struck here; and here too we may find a -hint of all that Penelope means. The thought of home is to dominate the -poem, as something so dear and sacred that innumerable toils are -suffered and infinite perils undergone to win back to it. And this -shining ideal of home is to be incarnate in Penelope. She is to -represent in her own person all that sweetens and comforts life: all the -domestic virtues which establish and perpetuate it. Thus, beside Helen -as the ideal of beauty—of physical perfection—Penelope stands as the -ideal of mental and moral worth. - - * * * * * - -Telemachus, whom Odysseus had left at home as a baby twenty years -before, had been sent by Athena to seek his father. The goddess had -appeared to him as he sat in his father’s hall in Ithaca, lowering upon -those unbidden guests who were his mother’s suitors. She had asked what -the unseemly revel might mean; and he had told of the long absence of -his father. - - “_Ah but the spirits of storm to a death inglorious swept him, - Vanished, unseen and unheard of; and nothing but mourning and anguish - Me he bequeathed! Nor now do I sorrow and make lamentation - Only for him; for the gods send other and grievous afflictions. - All of the chief of the men who as princes rule in the islands.... - All come wooing my mother and wasting the wealth of the homestead. - She dares neither reject their hateful proposals of marriage, - Nor can she end it; and thus do the men, consuming, devouring, - Ruin my home...._”[8] - -The goddess counselled immediate action—to go and seek Odysseus; and -while the minstrel sang to the carousing suitors, Telemachus inwardly -resolved that he would set sail as soon as might be for Pylos and -Sparta, whither Athena directed him for tidings of his father. But he -knew that he must act quietly; and above all, that his purpose must be -kept a secret from his mother. She would certainly prevent his going, -did she know, fearing to lose son as well as husband. - -Meantime, as he pondered the matter, Penelope was listening from her -lofty bower to the minstrel’s song in the hall below. He sang of the -return of the heroes from Troy; and the words reawakened in her the old -pain of longing for her husband. At last she could not bear to hear it -any longer: - - _Straightway leaving her room by the high-built stair she descended; - Neither alone did she go; two maidens followed behind her. - So when at last she had come to the suitors, that fairest of women - Stood by the post of the door of the massively builded apartment, - Holding in front of her cheeks soft folds of her glistering head-dress. - There as she stood, with a trusty attendant on this and on that side, - Suddenly bursting in tears to the godlike bard she addressed her: - “Phemius, ... - ... desist, I beseech, from the strain thou art singing, - Pitiful story, that ever the heart in the depths of my bosom - Woundeth....”_[8] - -She is a touching figure, as she ventures out among the revellers and -begs the old man to change the theme of his lay. But Telemachus was not -in the mood to see the pathos of the scene. The charge that Athena had -laid on him had suddenly given him his manhood; and in the new sense of -responsibility, he spoke a little harshly to his mother, bidding her go -back to her loom and housewifery. - - _Full of amazement she turned her to go to the women’s apartment, - Hiding the masterful words of her son deep down in her bosom. - So to her upper apartment ascending with maiden attendants - Here she lamented Odysseus her well-loved husband, till gently - Slumber was poured on her lids by the grey-eyed goddess Athene._[8] - -While his mother slept, Telemachus lay awake in his own inner room -revolving plans whereby to carry out the command of Athena. He -determined first to confront the suitors publicly, before a formal -assembly of the Ithacans, and charge them with their insolence and -riotous greed. So, with the first light of morning, he summoned the -people to a meeting in the market-place, and called upon the wooers to -cease their persecution of his mother and quit his house. Antinous, -answering haughtily for them all, invented a coward’s excuses for their -conduct. Penelope was to blame, he said, for she would not decide -between them; but constantly put them off with various cunning devices. -With one pretext alone—that of weaving a shroud for Icarius—she had kept -them in suspense for many months. - - _Thus then all of the day at the spacious loom she was weaving; - During the night she unravelled the web with the torches beside her. - Three long years with her secret device she befooled the Achaeans; - Till, when the fourth year came, and as season was followed by season, - Then at the last (since one of her women, who knew it, had told us), - While at the loom her magnificent web she unravelled, we caught her. - Thus was she forced, though sorely unwilling, to finish her labour._[8] - -Therefore, declared Antinous, because Penelope had deceived them in this -manner, they would not depart until she had chosen a husband from among -them. Telemachus might spare his protests; indeed, he would be better -advised to coerce his mother, since they were determined to remain in -his house and devour his substance, until Penelope should yield. But -Telemachus was a child no longer, and could not be threatened with -impunity. And to their base suggestion that he should favour them -against his mother, he gave a spirited reply. Nothing should induce him -to give Penelope in marriage against her will: - - “_Such word I will not utter. But for you, - If you take shame at all this wrong you do, - Quit these my halls...._ - - “_But if you deem it worthier still to sit, - As now, devouring one man’s livelihood - And rendering no recompense for it,_ - - “_Waste on: but to the deathless gods will I - Make my appeal, if haply Zeus on high - Repayment of your deeds exact from you. - So in this house you unavenged shall die._“[7] - -The assembly broke up; and Telemachus hastily fitted out a ship and -sailed to seek Odysseus, all unknown to Penelope. The suitors continued -their carousals day after day, rioting and making merry, in feigned -contempt of Telemachus and his quest. But when after a time he did not -return, they grew uneasy. They had jeered at his threats of vengeance, -deeming him an untried boy; but who knew what might happen now, since he -had sailed with a crew of the stoutest fellows in the island? Might he -not return with help and drive them out? Antinous took counsel with his -friends, and determined on a murderous plan. They would man a ship, sail -after Telemachus, and lie in wait for his return, between the islands of -Ithaca and Samé; and that should be the last cruise that Telemachus -should make. - -Meanwhile Penelope, busy with her household duties, believed her son to -be away with the flocks. She stayed within the women’s rooms; and except -for the clamour of the wooers, or the occasional song of the minstrel, -nothing came to her ears. But now Medon the herald heard of the plot -which was afoot against his young master, and came to warn her of it. -She greeted him with a bitter question. Had he come to order her maids -to spread the banquet for the suitors? Would that they might never feast -again! Had they not shame to deal so unjustly with her absent husband—he -who had always dealt justly with them, who had never in word or deed -done injury to any? But Medon had a harder thing yet to say; and as -gently as might be, he told her of the going of Telemachus and of the -suitors’ plot to slay him. - - _Thus did he speak, and with knees and with heart all quaking she stood - there. - Speechless long she remained, struck mute, while gathering teardrops - Flooded her eyes, and the flow of her clear-voiced utterance failed, - Till at the last she recovered her speech and addressed him in answer: - “Wherefore, herald, I pray, is my son departed? He nowise - Needed to mount on a ship—on a swift-paced vessel that sailors - Ride as a horse and traverse the watery waste of the ocean. - Wills he that even his name no longer remain in remembrance?”_[8] - -Penelope is overwhelmed with grief, and Medon’s explanation of her son’s -errand does not soothe her. She believes that he is lost to her for -ever, like his father; and when the herald has left her, she throws -herself down upon the floor of her room, wailing: - - “_... sorrow hath Zeus the Olympian sent me - Passing the sorrows of all the friends and the mates of my childhood. - Erstwhile lost I a husband—my lord with the heart of a lion.... - Now is my dearly belovèd, my son, swept hence by the storm-blasts, - Vanished from hearing and home.... - Had I but known he was making him ready to fare on a journey, - Verily either at home he had stay’d, though bent on departure, - Else he had left me behind him dead in the halls of his homestead._“[8] - -She casts about in her mind as to how she may save her son; and it seems -to her best to send a trusty messenger to the father of Odysseus, for -help and counsel. But the old nurse Euryclea gives good advice. She -confesses that she had known of the departure of Telemachus; but he had -sworn her with a great oath not to reveal it. It is of no use to mourn -about it; and since they can do nothing to bring him back, the better -way is to go and supplicate their guardian goddess, Athena, the Maid of -Zeus, for his safety. For her part, she believes that Telemachus will -not be forsaken in his need. Penelope wisely takes the advice of the old -nurse. She bathes, puts on clean raiment, and taking in her hand an -offering of barley-flour, she ascends to her own chamber and makes -supplication to Athena: - - “_Hearken to my prayer this hour,_ - - “_Thou who hast thunder-bearing Zeus for Sire, - Maiden whose might no labour can out-tire! - If ever subtle-souled Odysseus here - Within these halls consumed upon the fire_ - - “_Fat thigh-pieces of ox or sheep to thee, - Remember it this day for good to me, - And save my son, and from us thrust away - The suitors in their evil surquedry._” - - _Calling aloud so spake she, and her call - The goddess heard._[7] - -[Illustration: - - PENELOPE - - _Patten Wilson_ -] - -Even while Penelope prayed, Athena was busy on her behalf; and was -bringing home to her both husband and son. Odysseus she had convoyed -safely to Ithaca, and was now leading him in disguise to the swineherd’s -cottage. And to Telemachus she had shown a way to escape the murderous -suitors, and was bringing him swiftly to the father whom he had never -seen. Of their meeting, and of their cunning plan for vengeance on the -suitors, it would take too long to tell. But in the morning, Penelope -was gladdened by the return of her son; and a little later, a poor old -beggar (no other than Odysseus himself) came among the suitors as they -sat in the hall. They glowered upon him angrily, and proud Antinous set -the vagabond Irus to fight him, for their sport. But the old beggar had -unexpected strength, and Irus was defeated. Whereon the suitors began to -bait Odysseus with jeers and taunts; and one hurled a stool at him. At -this impious deed, the guests were horrified; and Penelope, hearing of -it where she sat among her women, longed to make amends to the old man -for the cruel act. She descended into the great hall, and spoke -reprovingly to Telemachus for allowing one who had sought the shelter of -their home to be treated so basely. - - “_What thing is this that hath befallen us - Within our halls that once were prosperous, - That you have suffered one who is your guest - To be despitefully entreated thus?_“[7] - -But Telemachus hugged his secret knowledge of the beggar’s identity, and -kept silence, while Penelope returned to her bower. The hall was cleared -at last, and then he and his father laid their plans for the slaying of -the suitors on the following day. The noisy crew had all gone to rest; -and when Odysseus and his son had agreed upon a plan of action, -Telemachus followed them, leaving his father alone in the great hall. It -was a moment for which Penelope had been waiting; and she came down from -her room again, to question the beggar of his wanderings. There was no -light in the hall but that of the fire; and she ordered a cushioned -chair to be brought near, so that the old man might sit while she talked -with him. - - “_Firstly of all, O stranger, I wish thee to answer a question: - Whence and what mortal thou beest? Tell too of thy city and - parents._“[8] - -Cunning Odysseus evaded her question. She might ask him anything but -that, he said; for it gave him too much sorrow to think of his country -and his race. Penelope was only too willing to be turned aside, burning -as she was to ask for news of Odysseus. So she told the old man of her -husband, and of his sailing for Troy, and of how she was pining for his -return. - - “_O that he came once more, and had care of my life as aforetime! - So were fairer my fame, and my lot more happy; for alway - Now I am sad—such woes hath a deity sent to assail me.... - Wherefore little I care for my guests, or if beggars entreat me, - Little for heralds I care, who work for the weal of the people; - Wasted away is my heart as I yearn for Odysseus...._“[8] - -She told him about the wooers, and the device of the shroud, which -gained her three years’ respite. But a treacherous servant had betrayed -her, and she had been compelled to finish her task. - - “_Now can I neither escape from a marriage, nor yet am I able - Further device to discover; and urgently also my parents - Bid me to marry; and vexed is my son as they waste his possessions._“[8] - -But having related so much of her own story, she asked again for the old -man’s name and race; and above all, would not he say whether he had seen -or heard aught of her husband? Odysseus needed all his subtlety now, as -he invented a tale of Crete and the great city of Cnossos, and Minos the -king who was his ancestor; and how on one occasion her husband had -indeed taken shelter with him there. - - _Thus in the likeness of truth he related a tissue of falsehood. - Meantime, weeping she listened, her cheeks all flooded with teardrops, - Like as the snow when it melteth away from the heights of the mountains, - Thawed by the breath of the Eurus—the snow that the Zephyr hath - sprinkled._ - - _... And Odysseus, - Touched to the heart by the grief of his wife, felt tender compassion; - Yet did his eyes keep fixed, as of horn they had been or of iron, - Motionless under the lids. Tears came, but he skilfully hid them._[8] - -There was one thing more which Odysseus must do before he could reveal -himself; and meantime he could only comfort Penelope by assuring her -that her husband still lived and was even now on his way home to her. -She shook her head sadly: that was too good to believe: the kind old man -was only trying to comfort her. But it was time for him to go to bed; -and because he disliked the giddy young serving-maids, Penelope called -up the old nurse Euryclea, and bade her wash the beggar’s feet with as -much care as if he were her master returned at last. That he was indeed -her master the nurse divined the instant that her fingers touched an old -scar upon his foot. But Odysseus hastily whispered her to say nothing of -what she had discovered; and soon the palace was asleep, with the old -beggar stretched upon sheepskins in the forecourt. - -At dawn next morning Odysseus awoke, and prayed to Zeus to help him in -the great deed that he was to do that day. Soon the suitors were astir, -and the usual preparations were begun for the banquet. Penelope herself -came down from her room, to watch what would happen. For, as she had -told the beggar the night before, she could not withhold her decision -any longer. This day she must choose between the suitors. And because -they were all alike hateful to her she would decide the question by a -test: she would consent to take for her husband that man who could shoot -with Odysseus’ bow. - - “_I now the suitors to that feat will call - Of axes, that he used to set in hall - Twelve in a row, like ship-stays, and far back - Standing would shoot an arrow through them all._ - - “_Now therefore to the suitors I will shew - This feat; and whoso in his hands the bow - Shall bend most easily, and down the line - Of the twelve axes make the arrow go,_ - - “_Him will I follow, putting far from me - This house of my espousals, fair to see - And full of substance, that I think in dreams - I shall remember through the days to be._“[7] - -She went up into the high Treasure-chamber, and sorrowfully took down -the great bow that a friend in Sparta had given to Odysseus long ago. -She carried it forth among the suitors; and Telemachus, who was eager -for the contest which he knew would end for them in a shameful death, -swiftly set up the twelve axes in a row, through which they were to -shoot. Odysseus leaned silently against the door-post, still in his -beggar’s disguise; whilst one after another of the suitors tried to bend -the bow. But one after another miserably failed to bend it, although a -great fire was lit and a cake of lard was brought to make the bow -supple. At last, in rage and despair, they had to abandon the attempt; -and then Odysseus humbly asked if he might be allowed to try. This was a -pre-arranged signal between father and son; and in the instant outcry -that arose at the old man’s presumption, Penelope and her maids were led -away. Then Odysseus, with his son and two faithful serving-men who were -in the secret, made a bold attack upon the suitors. They were greatly -outnumbered, but their plans had been laid warily, and Athena was on -their side. Through a grim struggle they prevailed at last, and did not -cease until vengeance was complete and every evil suitor had been slain. -But Penelope, although she heard the horrible din in the hall below, had -no idea of its cause. It was probably, she thought, another of the -frequent brawls between these tumultuous wooers. She was still -completely ignorant of Odysseus’s return; and when the old nurse came -running to her with the joyful news, she believed her to be mad. She had -looked so long and so despairingly for this event that now it had come -she was utterly incredulous. Even when she heard all the ghastly story -of the slaying of the suitors, and came into the hall where her husband -stood awaiting her, she could not realize that it was he. - - _Then from her room she descended, and deeply she pondered in spirit - Whether to hold her aloof from her lord and to test him with questions - Or to approach and embrace him and kiss him on hands and on forehead. - So, when at length she had entered the hall and had stept from the - door-stone, - Fronting Odysseus she seated herself, in the light of a brazier, - Close to the opposite wall; and with eyes cast down he was sitting - Nigh to a pillar that rose to the roof; and he waited expectant, - Hoping his beautiful wife would speak when she saw him before her. - Long while silent she sat, with her spirit amazed and bewildered._[8] - -Telemachus could not comprehend the reason for his mother’s silence, and -broke into impulsive chiding. He could not see that the very -steadfastness of her nature would not allow her to be lightly convinced. - - _Then answer made Penelope the wise: - “My child, the soul is dizzy with surprise - Within me; no word can I speak to him, - Nor question him nor look him in the eyes._ - - _“But if he comes indeed, and this is he, - We shall know one another certainly. - For we have tokens that from all men else - Are hidden, and none know but only we.”_[7] - -Truly, it is Greek meeting Greek, in this encounter between the wit of -Penelope and that of the man she dare not hope is really her husband. -Odysseus grows angry at last, and that gives the victory to his wife. -For when he orders that a bed shall be made for him apart, she says -cunningly to the maid: - - “_Now, Eurycleia, lay the goodly bed - Without the chamber firmly-stablished - That his own hands made: take it out from thence, - You and the women, and upon it spread_ - - _The broidered blankets, that he soft may lie, - And rugs and fleeces._“[7] - -Now Odysseus had built the bed himself, literally round the trunk of a -standing tree; and by this token she is trying him. In his answer she -perceives that he truly is her husband, for none but he could know how -wonderfully their bed was built. - - “_Verily, wife, this word thou hast spoken is grievously cruel. - Who hath removed it—the bed that I built? ‘Twere difficult truly - E’en for a man right skilful, unless some deity helped him. - ... Great is the secret - Touching that fine-wrought bed—for I made it myself and in private. - Once was a long-leaved olive that stood inside the enclosure, - Thriving and grown to the full; and its stem was as thick as a pillar. - Round it I built me a chamber and laboured until it was finished._“[8] - -Odysseus is indignant at the suggestion that his wonderful handiwork has -been destroyed; but Penelope does not mind about his anger, for she is -convinced at last that he is indeed her husband. - - _Then as he spake were loosened her knees and the heart in her bosom, - Since to herself she confessed that the token was sure that he gave her. - Bursting in tears, straightway to Odysseus she ran and embraced him, - Casting her arms on his neck and kissing his head and exclaiming: - “Gaze not upon me in anger, Odysseus! In all thou hast shown thee - Wisest of men—and thou knowst that the gods have sent us affliction, - Jealous to see us abiding in happiness one with the other.... - Ever and ever again hath my heart in the depths of my bosom - Shuddered with fear lest any with tales might haply deceive me.... - Now ... I believe! for thou giv’st me a token unerring—the secret - Touching the bed.... - Yea, I believe! thou hast conquered my heart, however unloving!”_[8] - -Odysseus’s anger quickly melts as he clasps his sweet wife in his arms; -and so we may leave Penelope in her happiness. Homer has one word more -to say about her, however. It occurs, with apparent naïveté, almost like -a curious little afterthought, in the last book of the poem. But there -is really exquisite art in it. The souls of the suitors have gone -wailing on their way to the World of the Dead; and there they meet the -great Greek heroes who died at Troy. There too, they meet the haughty -spirit of King Agamemnon, murdered by his wife on his return to Mycenæ. -To him the suitors tell their tale of the faithful wife of Odysseus, and -their ignominious end. And then from Agamemnon’s lips, bitterly -contrasting his wife with Penelope, falls what is perhaps the noblest -and most impressive tribute to her: - - “_O fortunate Laertes’ son, - Odysseus many-counselled, who a wife - So virtuous and so excellent have won!_ - - “_How rightly minded from of old was she, - Icarius’ child, unblamed Penelope! - How well remembered she her wedded lord - Odysseus! Therefore undecayed shall be_ - - “_Her fame for worth, among mankind so long - Shall the immortals make a lovely song - Of chaste Penelope._“[7] - ------ - -Footnote 7: - - From Professor J. W. Mackail’s translation of the _Odyssey_ (John - Murray). - -Footnote 8: - - From Mr H. B. Cotterill’s translation of the _Odyssey_ (Harrap & Co.). - - - - -_Homer: Circe_ - - -Penelope is not the only woman in the _Odyssey_, although she is far the -most prominent. Round her are grouped three other woman-figures—Calypso, -Circe, and Nausicaa; and although two of them are goddesses rather than -women, they seem none the less deliberately chosen, with the sweet -youthfulness of Nausicaa, to enhance the dignity of Penelope. - -They come into the story as incidents in the adventures of Odysseus, as -he is driven from point to point on his weary voyage homeward. Calypso -and Circe, dwelling each in a lonely island of the sea, lure him and -hold him from Penelope against his will. But it is of no avail to change -his purpose. They have many charms, and they can sing sweetly to ease -the heart from pain. They live a dainty and a joyous life, which he may -share if he will; and which he does share for a time. They are more -beautiful than Penelope; they have strange lore, and a knowledge of -enchantments; they have, too, eternal youth and kinship with the -immortals. But when all is said, they cannot compare with the dear human -soul who is waiting for Odysseus in Ithaca; and this contrast the poet -makes us clearly see, in the way in which Odysseus always turns with -longing to the thought of Penelope. - -So it is, too, with Nausicaa. This fresh young daughter of King -Alcinous, just a fair mortal girl, might be Penelope’s very self, when -twenty years before Odysseus had taken away Icarius’s child to be his -wife. One would think that there must be something quite irresistible -about her to the toil worn man just escaped from death. She is so brave -and helpful; and so prudent too, as she tells him a little wistfully -that he must not enter the city in her company. Yet, though we feel that -Odysseus cannot but admire this spirited young creature, she does but -serve to remind him of one in whom similar beauty and wisdom have grown -to maturity. - -Thus we have another comparison from which Penelope gains; and thus all -three of these other women of the _Odyssey_ serve to throw the heroine -into stronger relief. The poet accomplishes this very cunningly. He does -not bring them into direct contact with Penelope: they are never, so to -speak, on the stage together. That would be too severe a contrast—one -from which Penelope would suffer, as well as they. But at distant times -and places, each is brought separately into the circle of Penelope’s -life, by rivalry for the love of her husband. So they stand in the poem, -not only as a graceful setting to the figure of the heroine; but they -occupy in relation to Odysseus the same position which the suitors -occupy in relation to Penelope. There is a perfect balance of the poem -here, and one can only marvel at the art which built it so. For the -suitors serve on the one hand to show Penelope’s fidelity; and on the -other hand, by their arrogance and brutality, they make a complete foil -to the just and subtle Odysseus. Penelope cannot cope with them; she -knows them too well to dare the effect of a downright refusal; and she -sets her wits to work to keep them at bay, while she longs and prays for -her husband’s return. In conflict with them, her loyalty shines; and -there are developed all her many merits as queen and housewife and -mother. But in the conflict we get at the same time, through their -sensuality and impiousness, a sense of the absolute contrast with -Odysseus. - -The three minor women of the _Odyssey_ serve a similar double purpose. -They stand to the hero as the suitors stand to Penelope. If Odysseus’s -loyalty to his wife does not come perfectly scathless through the -ordeal—if we cannot hold him entirely blameless for the year spent with -Circe—the test does nevertheless reveal his essential constancy. That is -indeed the poet’s purpose; as well as to give a bright and graceful -touch to an exciting story of adventure. But he had also another -purpose, which we have already seen—to make of these rivals of Penelope -a charming setting, in which she should shine with added lustre. - -We hear all about Circe when Odysseus is telling the story of his -adventures to King Alcinous. He relates how he had sailed a second time -from Aeolia, sadly and wearily, because of the folly of his men. For -they had been well within sight of their beloved Ithaca, and Odysseus, -worn out with his long vigil at the main-sheet, had dropped asleep. It -was an evil opportunity for the curious crew, who were burning to know -what was contained in the great skin sack that their commander had -stored below so carefully. Within a trice the Bag of the Winds was cut, -letting loose on them havoc and destruction. - -They fared back to King Aeolus, and humbly begged his help once more. -But he would not a second time labour to imprison the winds for men on -whom the gods had obviously laid a curse of foolishness; and they had to -sail away unfriended. For six days they rowed hard against adverse -weather; and on the seventh their evil fortune lured them to the land of -the Laestrygonians. Not one of the ships that entered the harbour ever -came out again. Only Odysseus and his own men, who lay outside awaiting -them, were saved from the hands of that cruel race. - - _Thence we sailed onward, joyful to have fled - With life, but for our fellows perished - Grieving at heart: then came we to the isle - Aeaea, where abode a goddess dread, - Circe, of mortal speech and tresses fair._[9] - -Such was the coming of Odysseus to the land of Circe; and of all the -strange and terrible things that had yet befallen him, the strangest and -most terrible he was to receive at her hands. At first all went well. -The ship ran smoothly into a fair haven: they landed in safety, and for -two days and nights they rested on the shore, Odysseus himself shooting -them venison for their food. In all this time no human creature had been -seen; but Odysseus in his explorations had seen one sign of habitation—a -curl of smoke rising from an oaken coppice. That gave at least some hope -of succour; but when he called his men to search the wood with him, he -found that their courage had been completely broken. Their sufferings -from the savage Cyclops and the Laestrygonians had taught them to fear -the unknown rather than to hope from it; and none would volunteer for -the expedition. So a council was called, lots were cast, and those on -whom the lots fell went off most unwillingly, led by Eurylochus. - -The island lay low upon the sea, with only one hill-peak; and when they -climbed the hill the circling waters could be seen stretching away to -the horizon’s edge, without another glimpse of land. It would seem that -they were utterly cut off: that there was no possible succour anywhere -but in the mysterious valley below them; and the knowledge spurred them -to seek out the dweller in the wood, and so perhaps find help and -counsel. - -In a wide and shallow valley, where the oaks had been cleared away and -the sun streamed hotly upon a southern slope, they came upon the house -of Circe, daughter of the sun. No human figure could be seen: - - _But beasts alone, - Hill-wolves and lions, over whom the witch - With evil drugs had her enchantment thrown._[9] - -Even these creatures made no sound to break the silence that was like a -menace, while the sailors stopped awe-struck at the sight. The great -house, with its many halls and shining marble pillars, fascinated their -sight; and the strange beasts which leapt and fawned around them seemed -to invite them to enter. But while they stood in doubt, dreading to -advance and yet withheld from flight by some impalpable, resistless -power, the sound of a sweet voice rose upon the air. Softly at first it -floated out to them, in trembling notes; and they stole forward, drawn -by the exquisite melody, until they stood upon the very threshold of -Circe’s house. - - _And now upon the fair-tressed Goddess’ floor - They stood, and from the porches through the door - Heard Circe singing sweetly, as within - She wrought, the deathless high-built loom before._ - - _... They called aloud and cried. - Then issuing forth she straight threw open wide - The shining doors and called them; and they all - Went in their folly trooping at her side._[9] - -Circe, with a lurking smile of malice on her lips, came forward to -welcome them. She was very lovely, with the youthful, changeless beauty -of the immortals; but though Homer does not tell us so, we know that -there was sensuality in the curving fullness of her mouth and a cruel -gleam in the eyes over which the white lids drooped. With sweet words -and fluttering movements of her soft hands, she brought them in and bade -them sit; and busied herself, with swift and stealthy eagerness, to mix -and pour a luscious drink of Pramnian wine and honey. But before she -gave the cup into their hands, she furtively dropped into it one of her -secret baneful drugs; and as they greedily drank, their human shape was -instantly transformed to that of swine. - -One of the crew, however, had not entered; and when his comrades did not -return, he ran back to the ship to tell of what had happened. Odysseus, -suspecting some evil, slung on his sword, seized his bow, and sped away -to Circe’s house. But suddenly in his path stood the god Hermes, -Messenger of Zeus, in the likeness of a handsome youth. The god held up -an arresting hand. - - “_Ah, whither do you go - Across the wolds, O man unfortunate, - Alone amid a land you do not know?_ - - “_Your fellows here in Circe’s palace pine, - Close-barred and prisoned in the shape of swine; - And come you hither to release them? Nay, - Yourself you shall not save, as I divine._“[9] - -Then Hermes foretold all that should befall Odysseus in Circe’s house, -thinking to deter him. But when he would persist in the attempt to save -his men, the god gave Odysseus a plant that should be an antidote to -Circe’s poison. - - _Thereafter to far-off Olympus he - Passed from the island set with many a tree, - But I to Circe’s house; and as I went - Many a thing my heart revolved in me._ - - _Then by the fair-tressed Goddess’ portals nigh - I stood and called her, and she heard my cry, - And issuing forth at once flung open wide - The glittering doors and called me in: and I_ - - _Followed as one who goes his doom to meet: - Forthwith she led me in, and on a seat - Fair, carven, silver-studded, set me down - And laid a footstool underneath my feet._[9] - -Below her courtesy an evil intent was lurking, as Odysseus knew too -well; and presently she served to him the same poisoned drink with which -she had bewitched his men. But the plant of moly that Hermes had given -him made him proof against her drugs. The wine failed of its effect, and -Circe, angrily taking her wand, smote Odysseus with it, crying: “Begone -now to the sty and couch among your band.” - - _So said she: but the sharp sword from my thigh - I drew, and leapt at Circe suddenly - As purposing to slay her; and she shrieked - Aloud, and under it ran in anigh,_ - - _And caught my knees, and winged words anew - She uttered: “Who and whence of men are you? - Where is the city of your ancestry? - I marvel greatly how this cup I brew_ - - _“You drink, and yet its sorcery have withstood: - For unbewitched has none of mortal brood - Drunk of it yet or let it pass his lips; - But your breast holds against bewitchment good._ - - _“Wandering Odysseus truly you must be, - Who in his swift black ship across the sea - Ever the golden-wanded Shining One - Said should from Troy returning visit me.”_[9] - -[Illustration: - - CIRCE - - _Patten Wilson_ -] - -Her mischievous purpose faded on the instant, and she became full of -fawning admiration and wonder. Her malice was changed; but something -even more dangerous took its place. She began with sweet words to smooth -away Odysseus’s anger, fondling him and begging him to remain with her -and be her husband. But Odysseus remembered the warning of the god, and -at first he would not yield. He was sullen and suspicious, and would not -answer her gently until she had sworn to release his men. - - _Thereat immediately - Out through the palace, rod in hand, went she, - And opened the sty-doors and drave them out - Resembling swine of nine years old to see._ - - _Thereafter all in front of her stood they, - While she passed down along their whole array, - Smearing another drug on each of them; - And off their limbs the bristles fell away,_ - - _That the first baleful drug from Circe’s store - Had made to grow upon them; and once more - Men they became, and younger were to see - And taller far and goodlier than before._[9] - -Then the ship was hauled into a cave, and their companions were induced -to come up to Circe’s house, where they all joined in feasting and -merriment. Cautious Eurylochus tried to dissuade them; but Odysseus -would give no heed to his warning; and there followed a long interval of -riotous pleasure over which Circe and the river-nymphs who were her -handmaidens presided as queens. The days went by uncounted in luxurious -ease; and if, in rare moments, Odysseus had an uneasy flash of memory, -Circe’s caressing voice would flatter and soothe him into complacence -again, persuading him to stay yet a little longer. - - “_Myself I know - What sorrows you have suffered in the deep - Wherein the fishes travel to and fro;_ - - “_And likewise what the hands of hostile men - Of scathe on land have dealt you. Sojourn then - Here with me, eating food and drinking wine - Till the hearts rise within your breasts again_ - - “_As when at first you from your home were lorn, - Rough Ithaca: but feeble now and worn - With long hard wanderings are you, and your hearts - Forget all gladness; for you much have borne._“[9] - -So she would cajole them, and so the blandishments of Circe proved far -more effectual than her drugs. For a whole year the thought of home and -friends was driven away, while jollity filled out the indolent hours. -But satiety came at last, and memory began to reawaken. With rough -home-truths, the sailors broke the spell that Circe had cast upon their -commander. They called him out from her odorous, shadowy halls; and -under the clear sunlight that suddenly made Circe hateful, they -reproached him with his dalliance, and bade him flee at once if he would -save his soul alive. There was no withstanding them; and indeed Odysseus -had no wish to do so. - -When evening came, he claimed from Circe the fulfilment of her promise -to send them safely back.... He would be sad at leaving her, he said, -since the time had passed so pleasantly in her sunny island; but now his -men are beginning to complain and he himself (though that he did not -tell her) had suddenly grown weary and remorseful. It all seemed very -simple: and he had not much misgiving. Circe had only to speak the word, -that they might have safe convoy, and return to Ithaca. Surely the gods -must have laughed in irony at the man who thought to part from Circe so -lightly, knowing as they did the whole cost of that parting for him. -Circe was not to be cast off and forgotten, as a mere incident of -Odysseus’s adventures. Her reply was proud, and of ominous import. Since -they wished to go, she would not detain them; but let Odysseus summon -all his courage: - - “_Not against your will - You and your fellows longer shall abide - Within my house; but you must first fulfil_ - - “_Another journey yet, the house to see - Of Hades and renowned Persephone._“[9] - -The awful words fell horribly on Odysseus’s ear. So they might not then -simply hoist sail and away, gaily bound for Ithaca? Instead, there was -yet to make the bitterest voyage that even Odysseus had made—a dark and -awesome journey to the nether world, there to see and hold converse with -the dead prophet, Tiresias. - - _So spake she; but my heart was rent in me, - And sitting on the bed I bitterly - Wept, and no longer did my soul desire - To live, or yet the light of day to see._[9] - -But so it was decreed, and since all his grief and horror could not -alter it, he begged of Circe at least to tell him how he might find his -way to the dread World of the Dead, and how he might return in safety -from it. Circe smiled inscrutably. She knew that the passage there is -all too easily won. - - “_Take no concern, for pilot need you none._ - - “_Hoist but your mast and spread the sails of white, - And sitting let the North wind’s breath aright - Bear her: but when on shipboard you have crossed - The Ocean-river, there will come in sight_ - - “_The tangled groves of Queen Persephone, - A low shore set with the tall poplar tree - And willow that untimely sheds her fruit; - There run your ship abeach out of the sea,_ - - “_Beside the Ocean-stream’s deep-eddying flow, - And to the mouldering house of Hades go - Afoot._“[9] - -She told him all that he must do there; how he must pass right through -the crowding shadowy forms, and where two loud-thundering rivers meet he -must dig a trench and pour out a drink-offering before the dead. But he -must not let them partake of it, and must keep them at bay with drawn -sword till the prophet Tiresias should appear and prophesy to him of his -return. - - _So spake she, and Dawn straightway rose and shone - Gold-throned; and in my shirt and cloak anon - I clad me, and the nymph herself a great - White mantle, thin and beautiful, put on;_ - - _And round her loins a golden girdle fair - She drew, and cast a kerchief on her hair; - But I throughout the house to everyman - Went with soft words, and bade my crew prepare._[9] - -The crew set cheerily to work, but they did not know all yet; and when -Odysseus told them of the dreadful voyage they had now to make at the -bidding of the goddess, they were filled with despair. Perhaps Circe too -was ruthful at heart; and one act of grace at least she did them. For -when all was ready to launch the ship, they found that an unseen hand -had placed beside it the animals that they would need for sacrifices in -the World of the Dead: - - _But when at last the margent of the sea - And the swift ship we reached in misery, - While from our eyes the heavy tear-drops ran, - Circe, before us gone invisibly,_ - - _By the black ship a ram and a black ewe - Had tethered, lightly passing by our crew. - For mortal eyes a god against his will - Hither and thither going may not view._[9] - -Circe did not say farewell, because she knew that they would meet again. -For the first spirit to greet Odysseus when he reached the dark -Underworld was the restless ghost of Elpenor, one of his own crew. In -the hurry of their departure, Elpenor had fallen from a gallery and had -been killed. His untended body still lay in Circe’s house, and the poor -ghost could not rest until it was buried. So when the dreadful journey -to the dead was accomplished, Odysseus sailed back to Aeaea to perform -the funeral rites. - - _Thus all the rites we ordered as was due: - But Circe well of our returning knew - From the Dark House, and very speedily - Arrayed herself and down anigh us drew._[9] - -She made Odysseus tell her all that had befallen him, and all that he -had seen in the House of Hades; and then she gave him directions for his -homeward voyage. He was to beware of the Syrens, and of Scylla and -Charybdis; but above all he must prevent his men from doing injury to -the sacred Oxen of the Sun. - - “_But if you harm them, I foretell herein - Destruction to your ship and all your crew; - And though yourself to Ithaca may win,_ - - “_Late and unhappy shall your coming be, - And all your crew shall perish._“[9] - -Her black prophecy was fulfilled to the uttermost; and indeed Circe -seems destined always to be a baleful augurer to Odysseus. Yet she -herself is quite untouched by these mortal woes. When the ship was -manned she came down to the sea to speed them away; and our last glimpse -of her is as she stands upon the shore, her garments and the tendrils of -her hair lightly fluttering, and her lovely body drawn to its height as -she raises white arms and cries to the winds to follow them. - - _They got them in and took their seats again,_ - - _And sitting at the benches in array, - Smote with their oars upon the water grey; - Until the fair-tressed goddess terrible, - Circe of mortal voice, to speed our way,_ - - _Behind the blue-prowed ship sent forth anon - A following wind, a good companion._[9] - ------ - -Footnote 9: - - From Professor J. W. Mackail’s translation of the _Odyssey_ (John - Murray). - - - - -_Homer: Calypso_ - - -Calypso is a statelier figure than Circe, although they have much in -common. Looking casually at the two characters, we are inclined to -wonder why Homer should have given them so many points of resemblance. -Both are immortals—Circe a daughter of the sun, and Calypso a daughter -of Atlas. Both are skilled in sorcery; both live on islands set far away -amidst the sea; both are ‘fair-tressed’ and beautiful and have sweet -singing voices; both love Odysseus and desire him for a husband. - -But our first thought is corrected the instant we look at the two -goddesses a little more closely. In fact, the likeness between them only -helps us to realize the art which has given to each of them a distinct -individuality. We shall find that Calypso is gentler and more dignified; -a sweeter and more gracious creature than Circe. There is nothing -sinister or malign about her; and if she loves Odysseus, and strives to -keep him at her side, it is that she may make him immortal, like -herself. She has no evil intent toward him; and when the messenger of -Zeus bids her to release him, she sets herself the task of helping him -away. Odysseus has not now to pay a gruesome penalty for willing -bondage, as when he left Circe in Aeaea; but wins his way by Calypso’s -aid to the friendly land of Phæacia. - -In a “far isle amid the sea” Calypso dwelt alone. The blue sky bent over -it to embrace the bluer sea; and round its base a spray of foam -perpetually laved the rocks with snowy fingers. Out of the sea tree-clad -cliffs rose steeply, and the scent of pines hung like incense in the -warm air. Deep chasms here and there rent the cliffs apart, and gave -access to the sea; but their sides were clothed with olives and trailing -vines; and far down below could be heard the whisper of a little stream -as it ran to join the murmuring waves on a strip of golden sand. At the -head of one of the ravines was Calypso’s cavern. - - _Close to the cavern and clustered around it was growing a coppice; - Alder was there and poplar and cypress of delicate perfume. - Many a long-winged bird in the copse found covert at night-time, - Many a falcon and owl, and crook-billed chattering sea-crows, - Birds of the brine which busy themselves with a life on the ocean. - Here too, stretching in front of the hollow mouth of the cavern, - Trailed a luxuriant vine rich-laden with many a cluster. - Four bright runnels of water arose from a neighbouring fountain, - Each one nigh to the other but turned to a different channel. - Spreading around soft meadows with violets blossomed and parsley - Richly bedight—yea e’en an immortal, if haply he came there, - All might wondering view and rejoice in his heart to behold it._[10] - -Here it was, then, that Calypso, standing one morning in the sunny -entrance to her cave, first saw Odysseus. The prophecy of Circe had been -fulfilled. His crew had impiously laid hands on the sacred Oxen of the -Sun, and smitten by an avenging storm sent by the wrathful Apollo, had -every one paid the penalty with his life. Odysseus only had been spared; -and for nine days and nights he had struggled alone with the waves on a -shattered raft. - - _And on the tenth at night out of the sea - To that Far Island the Gods drifted me, - Calypso’s home, the fair-tressed mortal-voiced - Dread Goddess; and my friend and stay was she._[11] - -Calypso rescued and tended the shipwrecked man who was thrown upon her -shores; and after his awful peril and hardship he was content to forget -everything for a time. Days and weeks and months slipped quickly past -and Odysseus remained, charmed by the beauty of the island and the -gracious society of Calypso. Sometimes, reclined on the yellow sands -where he had been washed ashore, she would listen eagerly to the tales -of his wanderings. Sometimes, when the evening breeze blew chill from -the sea, they would sit together in the cavern: - - _Where from a brazier by her, burning well, - A fire of cloven cedar-wood and pine - Far through the island sent a goodly smell._ - - _And in it she with voice melodious sang, - While through the warp her golden shuttle rang - As to and fro before the loom she went._[11] - -As Calypso sang her strange sweet melodies in the fire-lit gloom, the -memory of Ithaca and Penelope grew faint. But one day the spell was -broken. Standing on a cliff and looking out to sea, he suddenly -remembered home and wife and friends; and from that time onward he did -not cease to long and pray for release. But year after year dragged -wearily on, and Calypso tried by arts and endearments and promises of -deathless gifts, to win him to stay with her. All her persuasion was -fruitless, however, and Odysseus - - _Sitting far apart - On the sea-beach, as oftentimes before, - Fretted with tears and sighs and bitter smart,_ - - _Out seaward to the barren ocean-rim - Kept gazing, and his eyes with tears were dim._[11] - -Meanwhile, in high assembly of the gods upon Olympus, Athena the loyal -friend of Odysseus stood out and pleaded his cause before them all. This -austere daughter of great Zeus despised the wiles by which Calypso would -keep the hero at her side; and begged her father to release him. - - “_But for Odysseus wise I am ill at ease, - That man unhappy who amid the seas - Far from his friends affliction bears for long, - Within the sea-girt island set with trees;_ - - “_The island in whose bounds a goddess dwells, - Daughter of Atlas of the guileful spells...._ - - “_But for his land Odysseus longs so sore - That even the smoke upcurling from its shore - Fain would he see and die...._ - - “_Did not Odysseus on the gods bestow - Guerdon of sacrifices long ago, - Down in wide Troy beside the Argive ships? - Why does your wrath, O Zeus, afflict him so?_“[11] - -Zeus gently reproved his splendid daughter. Is it to be supposed that he -has forgotten wise Odysseus, famed for his piety, and the constant -friend of gods and men? But there are reasons—partly the foolishness and -rashness of the hero and his men—why all these delays and reverses have -fallen upon him; and but for Zeus they would have brought on him -destruction long ago. Athena may set her mind at rest, however: the hour -has come for his deliverance. The great Father of the Gods turned to his -messenger: - - “_Hermes,—for ever as herald thou bear’st the behests of immortals— - Bring to the fair-tressed nymph our will’s immutable verdict, - Even that patient Odysseus return and arrive at his homeland.... - Thus is he fated his friends once more to revisit and once more - Win to his high-roofed home and arrive at the land of his fathers._“[10] - -Swift as light itself, Hermes sped down to Calypso’s island and passed -up through the flowering garden that embowered her cavern. He paused a -moment before entering, to let his glance roam over the peaceful beauty -of the scene and to breathe the delicious fragrance of the evening air. - - _Till at the last, when his spirit was fully contented with gazing, - Into the wide-mouthed cavern he entered; and standing before her - Straightway known was the god to the beautiful goddess Calypso, - Seeing that never unknown is a deity unto another, - None of the spirits immortal, not e’en if he dwells at a distance._[10] - -Calypso greeted him gladly, not divining the cruel message that he was -charged to deliver. And while she hospitably set before him the -deathless food of the gods, she eagerly inquired the reason of his -unwonted visit. - - “_Why come you, Hermes of the Rod of Gold, - Gracious and dear? You come not oft of old. - Speak, and most gladly to my power will I - Do your desire, if fate have so controlled._“[11] - -Hermes was reluctant to tell his errand, knowing the pain that it would -cause Calypso; and not until the meal was over did he reveal it. He had -come against his will, he said, with a decree of Zeus concerning the -hero whom she is detaining in her island. Odysseus must be released. - - _So spake he; but aghast thereat his word - The bright of Goddesses Calypso heard, - And answering, spake a winged word to him: - “Jealous you are, O Gods, to envy stirred_ - - _“Beyond all others, and can never brook - On loves of Goddesses and men to look...._ - - _“Yet I it was who rescued him, while he - Clung round the keel, alone, when mightily - Zeus shattered with a fiery thunderbolt - His racing ship amid the purple sea._ - - _“There his good comrades perished; him alone - Hither by flood and driving tempest blown, - I loved and nourished, and had thought to keep, - Deathless and ageless always for my own.”_[11] - -The love of Calypso, of which she spoke so simply and frankly to Hermes, -was something deeper than caprice. It was rooted in that heroic act when -she had toiled to drag him up out of the fiercely beating surf, and had -brought him back from the brink of death to the cheerful light of day. -She had given him his life, and her love with it; and ever since she had -striven to keep him at her side, thinking to win his love in return. But -she was no witch, to wreak evil spells over an unwilling heart; and -though the blow that Hermes had dealt her was a bitter one, she replied -with dignity. She would consent to the will of Zeus, not merely because -he might not be withstood, but because it was her desire to do good to -Odysseus. - - “_Let him go hence across the barren sea; - Howbeit his convoy cannot come from me, - Since oared ships I have not to my hand, - Nor any mariners his crew to be_ - - “_Over the ridges of the broad sea-floor: - Yet will I gladly teach him all my lore, - And naught will hide of counsel, so that he - Free from all harm may reach his native shore._“[11] - -So the Messenger of Zeus departed; and Calypso went sadly across the -island to the spot where she knew Odysseus was sitting. As she came near -she could see him, gazing out to sea, home-sick and despairing. So he -had sat this many a day, turning from her in coldness or in anger to go -and mourn for far-off Ithaca and his mortal wife. Why could he not be -content to remain with her? Was Penelope then so very beautiful—more -beautiful than she, a goddess? Had she not offered him immortality? Had -she not lavished tenderness upon him? And now she knew that at the first -word of her hateful news he would joyfully prepare to go, and leave her -alone with her regret. As she came up and stood by his side, her heart -was sore at the perversity of fate. But there was no rancour in it; and -having given her word, she would fulfil it generously. So she put her -hand upon his shoulder gently as he sat with averted face: - - “_No more, unhappy man, sit mourning there, - Nor let your life be wasted; for to-day - Myself unasked your journey will prepare._ - - “_Up therefore, hew long beams, and skilfully - Fit them with tools a broad-floored raft to be; - And build aloft a spar-deck thereupon - To carry you across the misty sea._ - - “_But water I will store on it and bread, - And the red wine wherewith is comforted - Man’s heart, that you be stayed from famishing; - And lend you raiment; and your sail to spread_ - - “_Will send a following wind, that free from ill - Home you may win, if such indeed the will - Be of the Gods, who hold wide heaven, and are - Greater than I to purpose and fulfil._“[11] - -The great good news was too wonderful for Odysseus to believe. -Bewildered and doubting, he forgot his usual courtesy, and uttered an -ungracious speech. Is she not deceiving him? Does she not intend some -evil? - - “_Other is here thy device, O goddess—not homeward to send me— - While on a raft thou bidd’st me retraverse a gulf of the ocean - Such in its terrors and perils that never a well-built vessel - Voyaging swiftly and gladdened by Zeus-sent breezes will cross it. - Ne’er will I mount on a raft—still less if it give thee displeasure— - Art thou not willing to swear me an oath and solemnly promise - Never against me to plot a device that is evil to harm me._“[10] - -Odysseus had suffered so much at the hands of angry gods that he could -not give credit to Calypso’s generosity. He suspected her of anger too; -and rather than risk the perils of an awful voyage like the last, he -would remain here upon the island. His words would have embittered a -smaller soul; but Calypso saw what was passing in his mind, and answered -him playfully: - - “_The Goddess bright and bland - Calypso, smiling, stroked him with her hand, - and spoke a word and answered: “Verily - A rogue you are, and quick to understand,_ - - _Such words are these you have devised to say!”_[11] - -And then, knowing that he was really apprehensive of danger, her voice -dropped to a deeper tone, as she gave him the solemn oath of the great -gods. - - “_Now Earth I take to record here to-day, - And the wide heaven above us, and the dread - Water abhorred that trickles down alway,_ - - “_(Which is the mightiest and most dread to break - Of all the oaths the blessed Gods may take) - No practice for your hurt will I devise, - But take such thought and counsel for your sake_ - - “_As for mine own self I would reckon good, - If in the like extremity I stood. - For my own heart is righteous, nor my heart - Iron within me, but of piteous mood._“[11] - -He was convinced at last; and together they went back to the cavern for -the evening meal. Calypso served to Odysseus his mortal food, and her -handmaidens set before her the deathless wine of the immortals. And -while they ate, she suddenly realized how soon she must part from him. -Her brave mood faded as she thought how lonely she would be when he had -gone; and thought too of the struggles which Odysseus had yet to make -before he reached his home. Again the haunting question came—Why need he -go at all? Why would he not stay with her? And though she knew there was -no hope, she pleaded with him once more. - - “_Odysseus, may your longing nought withhold - To your own land so straightway to be gone? - Then fare you well; but had your heart foretold_ - - “_How many woes the fates for you decree - Before you reach your country, here with me - You had abode, and in this house had kept, - And been immortal, howso fain to see_ - - “_That wife for whom through all your days you pine: - Yet deem I not her beauty more than mine. - Since hardly mortal woman may compare - In shape and beauty with my race divine._“[11] - -Odysseus had recovered his gallantry now. He begged Calypso not to be -wroth with him for desiring to go, and acknowledged that Penelope was by -no means so fair as she. As to the ill that he had still to suffer, he -would incline his heart to endurance: “And now, let this too follow -after, if it will.” - -Under his courteous manner lay a stern resolve; and as soon as morning -came, Calypso set herself to prepare his going. Though her heart was -very sore, she helped him readily. - -[Illustration: - - CALYPSO & ODYSSEUS - - _Patten Wilson_ -] - - _... The nymph threw round her a garment of glistering whiteness, - Delicate, lovely; and over her waist then fastened a girdle, - Beautiful, fashioned of gold; and her head in a hood she enveloped. - Then she bethought her to send on his way great-hearted Odysseus. - Firstly a great wood-axe, in his hands well-fitted, she gave him, - Fashioned of bronze, two-edged. ... - ... and going before him - Led to an end of the isle where tall straight timber was growing; - Alder was there and poplar and pine which reacheth to heaven, - Dry long since, well-seasoned and buoyant to float on the water._[10] - -Odysseus wrought joyfully at the raft, building with infinite care and -skill a strong, seaworthy vessel. Calypso brought out to him the store -of fair cloth that she had woven upon her loom, and of this he made the -sails, with “brace and sheet and halyard.” When all the strenuous toil -was completed, he drew the raft on rollers down to the sea and made -ready to sail. - - _Now was the fourth day come, and all of his labour was ended; - So on the fifth day sped his departing the goddess Calypso, - Bathing him first and arraying him freshly in fragrant apparel. - Then to the raft she conveyed dark wine in a bottle of goat-skin - —One was of wine and another, a greater, of water—and viands - Stowed in a wallet; and many a toothsome relish she added. - Then did she send him a favouring breeze both gentle and kindly._[10] - -So Calypso was left alone again on her little island; and Odysseus, -speeding before a favouring wind, was too absorbed to give much thought -to her. Freedom and the thought of home filled him with exultation; and -all his care was bent to navigate the boat. But a grateful memory of her -survived in aftertimes; and often he would recall her words to him, when -she had given him the vow of good faith: - - _For my own mind is righteous, nor my heart - Iron within me, but of piteous mood._[11] - ------ - -Footnote 10: - - From Mr H. B. Cotterill’s translation of the _Odyssey_ (Harrap & Co.). - -Footnote 11: - - From Professor J. W. Mackail’s translation of the _Odyssey_ (John - Murray). - - - - -_Homer: Nausicaa_ - - -Nausicaa was the only daughter of Alcinous, King of Phaeacia. Young and -beautiful, reared amid abundant wealth, the idol of parents and stalwart -brothers, she is yet simple and sweet and quite unspoiled. Her father -was lord over a rich seafaring folk; a kindly, generous, impetuous man. -Her mother, Queen Arete, was a star among women; so wise and noble that -the people saluted her as a god, and Alcinous worshipped her with -absolute devotion. There is hardly anything in Homer more beautiful than -the loving description that Nausicaa gives of her mother sitting beside -Alcinous in the great hall like a benign goddess, ready to stretch a -welcoming hand to the stranger and the suppliant. Even the great goddess -Athena had words of praise for Arete, when she met Odysseus on the road -coming up from the harbour: - - “_Her Alcinous took to wife, - And honoured her as living woman none_ - - “_Of wedded wives is honoured upon earth: - Such is the worship paid her (and her worth - No less) by King Alcinous our lord - And by the children who from them have birth._ - - “_Yea, all her people, when she goes abroad, - Salute her and account her as a god. - For of so excellent a wit is she, - Her woman’s wisdom puts a period_ - - “_To strife of men who in her favour stand. - And if to you she reach a helping hand, - Hope you may have to see your friends, and reach - Your high-roofed house, and your own native land._”[12] - -Nausicaa, as we shall see, is worthy of her parentage. The gods were -gracious at her birth, and gave her the fine qualities of both father -and mother. Yet courage and resource and a wise generosity sit lightly -on the youthful figure that flits through the Sixth Book of the -_Odyssey_. She is a mere girl, fresh and untried, with an irresistible -gaiety of heart and a tender regard for home ties. Her changing moods -and caprices are like dancing sunlight, and now and then there falls -upon her a soft shadow of wistfulness, cast by the ‘long, long thoughts’ -of youth. - -Her pretty head holds its own romantic visions, which she cannot, from -girlish shyness, bring herself to talk about freely, even to the dear -indulgent father. So for fear of his teasing and laughter, she practises -a little harmless deceit on him; which, however, does not deceive him in -the least, because his love can look right through it. - -So she moves before us, a creature of grace and beauty, of fineness and -strength; but withal so happy and human that the thought of her has the -bracing sweetness of upland meadows, or the breath of the summer sea. -Yet it is this fresh young girl whom we have to consider for a moment as -the unconscious rival of Penelope. The idea of such a rivalry seems -absurd, in connection with Nausicaa. And so it is, taken clumsily out of -its setting and robbed of the poet’s delicate art. Yet the suggestion is -clear; and the marvel is that Homer has contrived to bring her out of -the ordeal with her young innocence quite untouched. The beats of the -love-god’s wings only fan her in passing, and she is left unhurt by a -single barb. For a happy instant she glimpses him in flight, and -stretches a welcoming hand in naïve pleasure. But the moment after, he -has fled in jewelled light and she is left, wondering and wistful, but -scathless yet. - -So Nausicaa lives, a peerless girl in Homer’s group of immortal women. -She has served his purpose in the epic plan—to link the story with -Penelope and to enhance her dignified maturity. She has served too, in -the strongest way, to accentuate the chivalry and constancy of the hero. -But in doing this, the tenderest care has been taken that she shall not -be despoiled of her exquisite charm. - - * * * * * - -Poseidon the Sea-god was still wrathful with Odysseus for the injury -done to his son, the Cyclops. But having gone on a long journey to the -land of the ‘blameless Æthiopians,’ Athena had compassed in his absence -the escape of the hero. He had sailed joyfully from Calypso’s island, -and for seventeen days had fared onward steadily, with a following wind. -The wine and food that Calypso had given him were still unspent, when on -the eighteenth day there loomed before him the island of Phaeacia, vast -and shadowy in the morning mist. Here, he knew, were friendly hands and -hearts; people who had never been known to refuse safe convoy to -distressed mariners. And Odysseus, feeling that now at last the end of -his struggles had come, steered straight ahead. But he reckoned without -Poseidon. For that angry god, speeding on his homeward journey from -Æthiopia to Olympus, looked down from the mountains of the Solymi and -spied the raft of Odysseus, making for the safety of a Phaeacian -harbour. Amazement smote him; then indignation, and then a furious -desire for instant revenge. So this was what the immortals had been -doing in his absence—plotting to befriend the man who had so foully -mis-used his son. But no matter! If Athena must needs win in the end—and -even the might of Poseidon could not eventually withstand her calm -wisdom—her success should be at bitter cost to this artful rascal whom -she favoured. So: - - _The clouds at his command - Gathered, and with the trident in his hand - He stirred the sea and roused the hurricane - Of all the winds, and blotted sea and land_ - - _With clouds: night swept across the firmament:_ - - _... a monstrous wave abaft - Came towering up, and crashed into the raft: - And the raft reeled, and off it far he fell, - And from his hand shot out the rudder-shaft._[12] - -It would take long to tell all that Odysseus suffered from that awful -storm. Only the lion-heart that he was could have endured the terrible -strain of it. The raft was lost, and for two days and nights the fury of -the storm lashed him unceasingly. He was buffeted out of his course, and -when at last a calm fell and he saw land ahead, he had only just enough -strength left to strike out for it, with a great prayer in his heart for -deliverance from the wrath of Poseidon. - -It is this exciting incident, told with tremendous vigour, which is the -prelude to the story of Nausicaa. For on the very night when the waves -flung Odysseus ashore on her father’s island, she had a strange dream. A -goddess stood by her bedside, in the likeness of a girl friend; and with -hints of a happy marriage, bade her rise and go down to the washing -pools. - - _The grey-eyed Goddess, inly counselling - Odysseus mighty-hearted home to bring; - To the richly-carven chamber went - Where slept a maid, the daughter of the king,_ - - _Like any deathless goddess fair and bright, - Nausicaa.... - ... “Nausicaa,” said she, “why - Thus idly does your mother’s daughter lie, - The garments wrought with bright embroideries - Unheeded? yet your wedding-day draws nigh;_ - - _When clad in goodly raiment you must go, - And on your marriage train the like bestow._ - - · · · · · - - _Not long shall yet your maidenhood be worn. - Even now, amid the land where you were born, - Phaeacia’s princes woo you. Up, and bid - My lord your father yoke at break of morn_ - - _A mule-team and a cart whereon to lay - Girdles and gowns and broidered blankets gay.”_[12] - -We who are watching behind the scenes know quite well who is this -celestial visitor; and that the whispered words which have set -Nausicaa’s cheeks tingling are a mere ruse of Athena to bring help to -the luckless Odysseus. But Nausicaa has no hint of this; and waking with -the morning sun streaming upon her, she smiles in wonder and hope. Then -she dresses quickly and goes down to find her parents, musing upon the -words of the goddess. The queen is sitting in the great hall, amid her -handmaidens, winding the ‘dim sea-purple’; and the king, coming out to -join the princes in council, meets Nausicaa on the threshold. Is there -anywhere a more charming scene than this? - - _“Papa dear, will you let me have to-day - A high wheeled waggon yoked, to take away - The goodly clothes and wash them in the stream? - For in the house all lying soiled are they._ - - _“Now for yourself it is no more than fit - That, when the councillors at council sit, - In clean array among your lords you go: - Also your house has five sons born in it,_ - - _“Two of them wedded now, but three are yet - Young bachelors, who evermore must get - New-washed attire when to the dance they go; - And now on all this charge my mind is set.”_ - - _So spake she, for her mouth for maiden shame - To her own father marriage might not name. - Howbeit he understood and answered her: - “Go, child: I grudge not any wish you frame,_ - - _“Mules or aught else: this thing my thralls shall do, - And yoke the high wheeled tilted wain for you.”_[12] - -As we see, Alcinous can deny nothing to his fair young daughter. The -lightly running mule-cart is ordered out, and Nausicaa and the maids set -busily to work. It is refreshing to see this only daughter of a ‘king’ -carrying out the linen and fleecy blankets that have been daintily -wrought with needlecraft by her own hands. Alcinous, of course, is not -to be regarded as possessing the power and state of a modern monarch; -perhaps he was not a king at all, in our sense of the word. But there -can be no doubt that his state was that of a rich and mighty lord, for -he lives in a magnificence which makes the simple practical usefulness -of his daughter all the more remarkable. She helps the servants to load -the wagon, while the Queen herself places upon the box a skin of wine -and many dainty things to eat at their midday meal, together with a -golden flask of oil for their use when they wish to bathe. - -When all is ready, Nausicaa drives off merrily, her women running at the -side of the cart. Far out of the city they go, past the embattled walls -and the market-place and the harbour: then on through farms and sloping, -shimmering olive-gardens, until they reach the sea and the -washing-pools—the very spot, in fact, where ‘toil-worn, bright Odysseus’ -is sleeping the sleep of exhaustion, after his heart-breaking struggle -with the waves. The mules are unyoked and the clothes are brought out of -the cart and flung into the dark water. Then the girls bare their white -feet, catch up their fluttering garments, and tread the clothes in the -gushing water, gaily chattering the while. When all are cleansed, they -are spread out in the sun on the pebbly beach, while the girls bathe and -take their dainty meal upon the shore. - -All this while there lay in a thicket quite close to them, the prostrate -figure of Odysseus, like one dead. But when the afternoon was wearing -on, the girls joined in a merry game of ball, before starting on their -homeward journey. The lovely group lives before us as we read, fresh -from their sea-bath, with crisping ringlets floating, cheeks touched to -a rosier hue by exercise and fun, and all the charms of youth and beauty -revealed as white arms throw the ball and twinkling feet run hither and -thither after it, upon the yellow sand. Homer, in one of his rare -exceptions, lingers a moment to tell us how Nausicaa looked on this -occasion. But, characteristically, he does this by imagery, and imagery -in motion. - - _But when their hearts with food were comforted - Their kerchiefs they undid to play at ball; - And in the game white-armed Nausicaa led._ - - _Artemis the Arrow-showerer even so - Rejoices on the mountain side to go - All down the long slope of Taÿgetus - Or Erymanthus, while before her bow_ - - _Wild boar and fleet-foot deer flee fast away, - And round her move the wild-wood nymphs at play, - Daughters of Zeus the Lord of Thunder-clouds; - And Leto joys at heart; for fair are they,_ - - _Yet fairest of them all the child she bred; - And over all the rest her brows and head - Rise, easily known among them. Even so - Among her women shone the maid unwed._[12] - -This is the moment for which Athena has been waiting, to bring help to -Odysseus. - - _Thereat the princess to a handmaiden - Threw the ball wide, and missed her, and it fell_ - - _In a deep eddy. From them all outbroke - A long shrill cry: and bright Odysseus woke; - And sitting up he pondered inwardly: - “O me, what land is this of mortal folk?”_[12] - -He is dazed by his long, long sleep. Where is he? What land is this? -Whose are those young figures that he can just see by peeping through -the leafy thicket in which he lies? Are they the nymphs of the river -along which he was drifted out of the sea? Or are they human maidens who -may be besought to help? He does not hesitate long. At all hazards he -must speak to them, for he is in desperate need. So, hastily breaking -off a leafy bough to hide his nakedness, he strode out of his lair. His -uncouth figure struck amazement and terror into the hearts of the girls. - - _Dreadful to them the sea-stained man drew nigh: - And up and down they ran dispersedly - Along the jutting beaches; only then - The daughter of Alcinous did not fly:_ - - _Such courage put Athena in her breast: - Unfaltering she stood up and undistressed, - And faced him._[12] - -For once Odysseus is at a loss. How shall he address her? He is almost -naked, haggard, and sea-worn, a terrible object to girlish eyes. Shall -he go up close, and in the attitude of the suppliant, clasp her knees? -Or will not his touch and his close approach startle and shock her? But -his wits are not long to seek. He decides that it will be better not to -come too near, but to address her gently, from a little distance. “I -kneel to you, Protectress. God are you, or mortal?” Thus he speaks -first, gracefully complimenting her beauty and courage. - - “_If a god indeed you be - Of those who in wide heaven abide in bliss, - Unto none else than very Artemis, - Daughter of Zeus Most High, I liken one - So tall and fair and beautiful as this;_ - - “_But if a mortal, such as dwell on earth, - Thrice fortunate are they who gave you birth, - Father and mother, and thrice fortunate - Your brethren; surely evermore great mirth_ - - “_And joyance fills them, while with hearts elate - They see a thing so lovely delicate - Upon the dancing-floor. But far beyond - All others is that man most fortunate,_ - - “_Who loading you with many a precious thing - May woo you and to share his home may bring._“[12] - -Cunning Odysseus’s words are winged with a deeper significance than he -knows, for all his subtlety and tact. Does Nausicaa recall her dream, -just at this point? We cannot tell. But when he goes on to relate at -length about the dreadful voyage on the raft through the vengeful storms -of Poseidon, she pities and longs to help him. She has gauged him -shrewdly, too. This eloquent stranger, with his air of frank deference, -is no rogue nor fool; but whoever and whatever he may be, he is a -suppliant whom it is the will of Zeus to succour. So she speaks cheerily -to him, to allay his anxiety, telling him that he is in the land of a -friendly people, whose king, Alcinous, is her father. She will herself -guide him to the palace and see that he is cared for. Then she turns to -reproach the silly fear of her maids: - - “_Stand still, my women! Why so timorous - At a man’s face? You do not surely think - This man is here with ill intent to us?_ - - “_That living mortal is not, nor shall be, - Who to Phaeacia bearing enmity - May come: for very dear to heaven we are, - And dwell apart amid the surging sea._ - - “_... But to our abode - We must make welcome this poor wanderer. - Strangers and beggars all are dear to God._ - - “_... With this stranger be it so. - Give him to eat and drink, and make him bathe - In shelter, down the windswept bank below._“[12] - -So Odysseus is bathed and clothed and fed; and Nausicaa, looking shyly -at him as he reappears, is astonished at the wonderful change that has -come over him. She speaks apart to the women, a little wistfully. - - “_Listen, O white-armed girls, to what I say. - Not without warrant of the Gods’ array - Who hold Olympus, does this man arrive - In the divine Phaeacian land to-day._ - -[Illustration: - - NAUSICAA & ODYSSEUS - - _Batten Wilson_ -] - - “_Uncomely at the first he seemed to be - But now the Gods are not more fair than he, - Who hold wide heaven: I would that such an one - Dwelt here and bore a husband’s name to me._“[12] - -A little timid hope is dawning in her heart. Is it possible that this -may be the lover of whom she dreamed? But she will not let him know her -thoughts; and as she offers to guide him to the city, she tells him with -modest dignity that he must not ride with her in the wagon. He must -follow behind with the maids; and when the city walls are in sight, and -they are near the houses of men, he must draw away from them and -continue his journey alone. She is not discourteous, she explains; but -it is not seemly for her to be seen by the people driving a strange man -into the city. - - “_And taunting speech from them I fain would shun, - Hereafter flung at this that I have done. - Proud-hearted are our people; and of them - Meeting us, thus might say some baser one:_ - - “_’And who is this, the stranger tall and gay - That here beside Nausicaa takes his way? - And where may she have found him? Aye, no doubt - She brings a husband back with her to-day!...’_ - - “_So will they say; and to my shame would be - That word, as I myself would think it shame,_ - - “_If any other girl in suchlike way - While her own parents lived, should go astray - In a man’s company._“[12] - -But she gives him minute directions, so that he may find her father’s -palace after she has left him. He will pass Athena’s grove, and the -well, and the king’s park, before he comes to the town and the gate of -the palace. He is to go right into the palace, and not to hesitate. - - “_But when the forecourt and the palace-wall - Have hidden you, pass quickly up the hall - Straight to my mother. In the firelight she - Sits by the hearth, while off her distaff fall_ - - “_The threads of dim sea-purple, strand by strand, - Marvellous; and her maids behind her stand, - By the hall pillar, and my father’s chair - Next hers, where he, the wine-cup in his hand,_ - - “_Sits like a God. Yet pass him by, nor stay - Till round our mother’s knees your hands you lay. - For thus, although from very far you come, - Quickly shall dawn your glad returning day._”[12] - -It all falls out as she has said. They start off as the sun is setting, -and Odysseus follows behind the mule-cart at a little distance until -they reach the sacred grove of poplars that Nausicaa has indicated. -There he waits behind for a space, while she drives on to the palace. -Her handsome young brothers come out to meet her, with hearty greetings -and questions as to how the day has fared. But she does not make much -response to them, leaving them to unharness the mules and carry out the -clothing while she slips away to her room and the society of her old -nurse. - - * * * * * - -Meanwhile Odysseus makes his way to the palace alone and is amazed at -its size and magnificence. - - _The brazen walls - Athwart and endlong from the threshold went_ - - _Even to the inmost chamber up the hall; - And a great frieze of blue ran round the wall; - And golden doors the stately house within - Shut off, and silver doorway pillars tall_ - - _Out of the brazen threshold sprang to hold - The silver lintel; and the latch was gold; - And gold and silver hounds on either hand - Stood._[12] - -To this gorgeous palace, Alcinous and Arete give Odysseus a royal -welcome. They are charmed with their guest: and when the queen, -recognizing her handiwork on the robe that he is wearing, elicits an -account of his meeting with Nausicaa, the king flames into anger. - - _Answered and said Alcinous: “Sooth to tell, - Guest, in this thing my daughter did not well, - That hither with her maids she brought you not - Herself, since first before her feet you fell.”_ - - _And subtle-souled Odysseus answer made: - “Prince, on that faultless maiden be there laid - No blame herein: for with her hand-maidens - She bade me follow; but behind I stayed_ - - _“For fear of shame, lest haply should you see, - Your mind might deem some hateful thought of me.”_[12] - -This is not exactly what had happened, as we know; but we do not love -Odysseus any the less for the chivalrous lie. The most loving father can -be unreasonable sometimes, and Alcinous would not have the sacred laws -of hospitality broken, even for the maidenly prudence of his own sweet -daughter. Impetuously he tries to make amends: - - “_Nay, O guest, - Not so is framed my heart within my breast, - To be stirred up to anger without cause. - In all things to observe the law is best._ - - “_Fain were I—Zeus our Father hear me vow, - And thou, Athena, and Apollo, thou!— - Such as you are and minded as I am, - You took to wife my daughter even now,_ - - “_And were called son-in-law of me the king, - Abiding with us._“[12] - -But Nausicaa’s dream was a lying vision; and the fine tact of Odysseus -is sorely put to it to find words for the inevitable refusal. He is -silent for a time; and then, beginning the recital of all his eventful -story, he gradually reveals to them who he is, and tells about his home -and the gentle wife to whom he is longing to return. To the king and -queen his answer causes little regret. It means that they may keep their -fair daughter a little longer; and are there not many Phaeacian princes -from whom they may choose a mate for her when she is ready? But -Nausicaa, to whom the nurse brings word of what is passing as she sits -in her beautiful chamber, hears the reply of Odysseus with a little pang -that she has never felt before. It does not linger very long, however, -and when the day comes for Odysseus’ departure, and the guests are -trooping into the hall for the last banquet in his honour, she steals -out among them to bid him farewell. It is the last time we see her. - - _But by the doorway of the stately hall - In godlike beauty stood Nausicaa; - And eyed him marvelling, and bespake him so: - “Fare well, O guest, that when you homeward go, - Me too you may remember, and that first - To me the ransom of your life you owe.”_[12] - -Odysseus’ reply is gallant; but it is not mere gallantry. He vows that -he will never forget her. Only let great Zeus and Hera bring him safely -home: - - “_Then would I alway - To you, O maid, who rendered me my life, - As to a God, in that far country pray._”[12] - ------ - -Footnote 12: - - From Professor J. W. Mackail’s translation of the _Odyssey_ (John - Murray). - - - - -_Æschylus: Clytemnestra_ - - -We come now to the heroines of Attic Tragedy. The women of Homer, with -all their romantic beauty and charm, gleam on us from a far distance. A -new type of heroine has arisen, reborn out of the legends of the remote -past into a new age; and evoked by a poetic genius which is greatly -different from that of the Homeric epics. - -In the interval which had elapsed since the epics were composed, -civilization had advanced, life had grown more complex, and women had -attained to a fuller and freer existence. It was the Great Age of -Greece; and as in our own Elizabethan Age, the poetic genius of the time -was impelled to find expression in dramatic form. - -From all these causes, we shall find that the women of Attic Tragedy are -possessed of a stronger and more vivid personality than their Homeric -forerunners. They are resolute, purposeful, passionate—women of action -as well as of feeling. Physical beauty they do possess, as well as grace -and charm. Neither do they lack the gentler qualities which are usually -supposed to be peculiarly feminine. Indeed, we could probably find an -eminent example of every so-called feminine virtue if we went through -the range of the heroines. But the stress is not now laid merely on -beauty and the gentler graces. It is laid rather on a combination of -these qualities with strength of intellect and will, generous emotions, -and a soaring spirit. - -Such a change would appear to be right and natural—in fact, almost -inevitable. We should expect that the passage of the centuries in an -advancing civilization would give the woman time and space ‘to bourgeon -out of all within her’; and that with a more harmonious development she -would definitely gain in mental height. We should expect, too, that the -dramatic genius would create a more clear-cut individuality than that -given by the epic poet in a long narrative chiefly concerned with the -doings of menfolk. So that we are not surprised to find the women of -tragedy possessed of great vitality, and occupying a very large share of -the dramatists’ attention. What does surprise us, however, is to -discover that many of these newer heroines are the very women whom we -have already met in the Homeric poems: that they have been taken -straight over from the heroic age, out of the ancient heroic themes, and -made to live over again, a new and vastly different life. - -This brings us to a point which it is well to keep in mind. Sometimes -the heroines of Greek Tragedy do very terrible things and are placed in -situations of appalling horror. Those acts, and the circumstances out of -which they spring, not only repel us but seem to be at variance even -with the spirit of the poet himself. Sometimes the heroine is the victim -of tyrannic physical force, and frequently again there is the clash of -motive, for which death seems to be the only solution. Strange crimes, -unheard of and almost unthinkable, sometimes darken the atmosphere -around them. Age-old curses and hereditary feuds pursue them: the -terrible gift of beauty weighs them down; and over all broods fate, a -lurking, indefinable power against which, in the last resort, they are -powerless to stand. - -There is then, sometimes in the heroines themselves and almost always in -their environment, an element of barbarism which troubles us. The touch -of savagery repels us all the more from its contrast with the exquisite -poetry in which it is enshrined, and the noble spirit of that poetry. We -wonder why the dramatist should have placed creatures so sensitive and -highly wrought in situations which are so crudely appalling; and the -incongruity is not shaken off until we remember the nature of the -material upon which the poet is constrained to work. For the Attic -dramatists went for the subjects of their poetry directly to stories out -of the primitive past—old legends which, though sometimes very -beautiful, nearly always contain elements of cruelty and horror. The -reason why they did this is interesting, and explains some curious -points about Greek Drama. - -To us it seems strange that these poets, whose ideas were probably as -‘advanced’ to their contemporaries as our modern Drama is to us, did not -take their themes out of the vastly interesting and even momentous life -of their own day. Very occasionally they did this, as we know from the -drama of Æschylus called _The Persians_, which deals directly with that -tremendous event of Greek history the Persian Invasion. But almost -always, as we have said, they turned away from their own time, and -looked back upon the ancient past for the subject-matter of Drama. It is -probable that poetical motives influenced them to some extent—the same -that made Milton turn back to the Hebrew story of the creation, and -Tennyson occupy himself for nearly fifty years with the Arthurian -legend. But there was another, and more compelling reason; and it lay in -the religious character of the Attic theatre. - -Greek Drama was a ritual, performed in honour of the gods. It had its -origin in the worship of the Thracian god Dionysus or in a still older -cult of ancestor-worship; and it had an established convention that its -themes should be taken from legendary heroic subjects. So that the poet, -however he might modify character, was bound by tradition to the main -outline of the early stories. As we shall see, he imbued those themes -and characters with new significance. Just as Milton puts the -Reformation spirit into the story of Adam and Eve, and Tennyson makes -the Arthur of Celtic legend into an ideal of modern gentlehood, Æschylus -and Sophocles and Euripides vitalize the old legendary forms with the -spirit of their own age. The spirit of that age was profoundly -interested in religion—perhaps because it was beginning to lose its -religion. It was passing out of unquestioning belief in the old Olympian -hierarchy; but it had not yet attained to a new belief with any -clearness. And an extremely interesting fact is that here in the drama, -in the very cradle of religion, the new thought begins to manifest -itself quite clearly, despite the trammels of convention. Each of the -three tragedians represents some phase of it; each shows, in greater or -less degree, evidence of the transition period in which old superstition -was being broken down; but each steadily maintained, through the crash -of falling faith, the sanctity of the moral law. It is this clear view, -this austere purpose and steady aim at the highest, which gives Attic -Tragedy its grandeur, and the women of Attic Tragedy their surpassing -interest. - - * * * * * - -What has been said above about the barbarity of the legends on which -Greek Drama is based, applies particularly to the story from which the -figure of Clytemnestra was taken. It was a history of wrongdoing, of -foul guilt going back for generations: or rather, the history of a sin -which, to use the words of the poet himself, begot more sin in each -succeeding generation. Æschylus wrote his greatest work around this -theme, a trilogy of three dramas called the _Agamemnon_, the -_Choephorœ_, and the _Eumenides_. The first two of these dramas furnish -the material for the story of Clytemnestra. The last deals with the -remorse of Orestes, her son, and the atonement by which the long record -of crime is finally closed and a new era of hope begins. Clytemnestra -is, as it were, the last sacrifice demanded by the Furies which had -pursued the house of Tantalus so long, and she represents in herself the -two forces by which that vengeance had always been effected—a wrong done -and a wrong suffered. For Æschylus makes us see that it is not only by -the first sin of Tantalus that all his descendants have been -relentlessly pursued; but that each in his turn has added something of -his own—some crime of passion or of pride—to bring the penalty on -himself. - -It is from this standpoint that we must look at Clytemnestra and judge -of her action. She was the instrument of a power beyond herself, the -dread fate which had marked Agamemnon the king, her husband, as another -victim of the hereditary curse. But she was not merely an instrument. -She had fallen prey to her own unlawful passion, and when she struck the -blow which fate ordained, it was not impelled by the single motive of -revenge for the sacrifice of Iphigenia, but a confusion of passionate -anger and conscious guilt. - -The _Agamemnon_ opens with the joyful announcement of the fall of Troy. -The scene is laid in the wealthy city of Mycenæ, in the palace of -Agamemnon the king, where a watch had been kept for many months for the -return of the Greek fleet. Ten years before, when the fleet had sailed -for Troy to avenge the carrying-off of Helen, there had been left behind -in the royal home a mother stricken by an awful grief. For the King -Agamemnon, delayed at Aulis by adverse winds, and in brutal haste to be -gone, had offered up to the gods a human sacrifice—the sacrifice of his -own young daughter Iphigenia. The prayers of Clytemnestra the queen, and -the tears of the beautiful girl herself, could not prevail upon him. -Iphigenia’s life was forfeited to a hideous superstition, and the host -sailed away, leaving Clytemnestra overwhelmed with sorrow and wrath. -Here then are the two contributing elements to the tragedy—the wrong -done and the wrong suffered. Agamemnon, driven on by the curse which lay -over his house, blinded by his own pride and headstrong impatience to -the true nature of the crime that he was committing, was forging the -weapon of his own destruction. And here too we have the deed which -accounts for and explains Clytemnestra—making of her not the mere savage -murderess of tradition, without a touch of humanity, but an outraged -mother, the avenger of her child. - -It is necessary to emphasize this point a little because we have been -used to regard Clytemnestra as a mere monster of cruelty. It is -therefore a shock of surprise, when we come to Æschylus for her story, -to find that he has made her quite human. He is not concerned in her -case, any more than with the other persons of his Drama, to expose -intricate motive, or to paint delicate shades of character. In his task -of hewing out dramatic form—of virtually creating Drama—he left subtlety -and ingenuity and stagecraft to be perfected by his successors. Hence he -is not exercised very much about making his plot a plausible one, or to -explain how its incidents are effected. He has a great religious -purpose; and this, with the ritual form in which he had to work, -subordinates the purely dramatic elements. But he does clearly let us -see—and this is all the more important from his usual reticence—that the -whole course of Clytemnestra’s action was determined by Agamemnon’s -inconceivable cruelty. - -This point eludes us often, because we accept the sacrifice of Iphigenia -as an act belonging to a barbarous age. So it is, but we forget that the -age of Agamemnon had practically left barbarism behind it. The slaughter -of Iphigenia must have been almost as revolting to the ideas of that -time as it is to us; and although in times of national crisis fanatical -minds may have been capable of reviving the savage custom of human -sacrifice, that is no justification of Agamemnon. And that he submitted -to the superstitious frenzy, and offered up the life of his child, was -the act which armed Clytemnestra against him. - -The deed was, however, of a piece with his character. He was haughty, -passionate, headstrong, brooking no resistance and no rivalry: a man of -tremendous force of character who had grown too great and who in his -pride had even dared to dishonour Apollo himself in the person of his -votaries. To such a man, who after ten years’ preparation found his -fleet hindered by unfavourable gales, the slaying of his daughter was -merely an unpleasant step toward the fulfilment of his purpose. Her -beauty and her youth were of little account, and her mother’s tears and -entreaties were brushed aside as weakness. - - _Sin from its primal spring - Mads the ill-counselled heart, and arms the hand - With reckless strength. Thus he - Gave his own daughter’s blood, his life, his joy, - To speed a woman’s war, and consecrate - His ships for Troy._[13] - -The story of Clytemnestra, then, rightly begins here. She too was -passionate and proud, with a will of iron: a nature of strangely blended -strength and tenderness. When the blow came from the hand which should -have shielded her, it struck dead her gentler self. She gave herself up -to thoughts of revenge; and hearing from Troy as the years passed -tidings of Agamemnon’s infidelity, the last link between them was -broken. Other news would come to her ears: of sedition amongst the -people, left so long without a ruler; of the country suffering from the -need of its strongest men, who were all away at the war; and of a -certain Egisthus, her husband’s enemy, who had returned from exile. -There would be a bond of sympathy between Clytemnestra and this -Egisthus. Had he not a feud against her husband? Was he not wronged by -Agamemnon, too? Had his father not suffered at the hands of Agamemnon’s -father? There would be a meeting between them, followed by other -meetings, while they made common cause against the king; and presently -the two were united, not only in a plot for Agamemnon’s overthrow, but -in the bonds of guilty love. - -When the news came of the fall of Troy and the return of the army, -Clytemnestra had matured her plans for vengeance. For years she had -nursed her wrath, and plotted with all the subtlety of her mental -powers. And for years she had hoped for and dreaded the day which would -bring back the king to Mycenæ. Her love for Egisthus was common -knowledge in the palace. Her sin would doubtless be proclaimed to -Agamemnon immediately after his arrival, even if he did not already know -of it; and she knew that the penalty of it would be death. So every -instinct and impulse of her nature, and every consideration of -self-defence too, demanded instant action. Vengeance for the murder of -her daughter, her love for Egisthus, and the need of self-preservation -all combined to nerve her for what she had to do. Agamemnon’s arrival -was imminent; she must be ready, and when the moment came she must not -falter. But meanwhile, before the old senators who had gathered to -welcome him (and who form the Chorus of the drama) she must play the -part of a loving wife. - -When the first part of the Trilogy (the _Agamemnon_) opens, -beacon-lights announce the fall of Troy. The news flies through the -palace, and there is instant excitement. The old senators come thronging -out; and as they sing, wonderingly and half-doubting, Clytemnestra the -queen suddenly enters. She stands for a moment to confirm this amazing -news, and the old men turn to address her. But she makes no answer: it -is as though she has not heard them—as though nothing but the words “The -king is coming” clamour in her ears, and bring a rush of emotion that -stifles speech. She goes out silently; but while the old men are singing -of the doom of Troy, she reappears. Her entrance now is resolute and -majestical: her purpose is taken, and in firm tones she declares to the -Senators that the news they have heard is true. As she speaks, the tide -of emotion rises again and carries her on to utterance that is almost -prophetic: - -CLY. _This day Troy fell. Methinks I see’t; a host - Of jarring voices stirs the startled city, - Like oil and acid, sounds that will not mingle, - By natural hatred sundered. Thou may’st hear - Shouts of the victor, with the dying groan, - Battling, and captives cry.... - ... Happy if the native gods - They reverence, and the captured altars spare, - Themselves not captive led by their own folly. - May no unbridled lust of unjust gain - Master their hearts, no reckless, rash desire._ - -CHO. _Woman, thou speakest wisely as a man, - And kindly as thyself._[13] - -Clytemnestra’s speech is significant. She knows the nature of the king, -and she fears that his victory over Troy has been a brutal one, pushed -even to the last extremity of insult to the country’s gods. That impious -pride is her uppermost thought; with it, she steels her heart; and when -the herald arrives, she listens in ominous silence as his tale confirms -her utmost fears. - -HER. _Agamemnon - Comes, like the sun, a common joy to all. - Greet him with triumph, as beseems the man - Who with the mattock of justice-bearing Jove - Hath dug the roots of Troy, hath made its altars - Things seen no more, its towering temples razed, - And caused the seed of the whole land to perish. - ... His hand hath reaped - Clean bare the harvest of all bliss from Troy._[13] - -If anything were needed to confirm Clytemnestra’s resolution, surely it -lay in these words. Agamemnon, the ruthless slayer of his daughter, the -destroyer of Troy, who had no fear of the gods and no pity for man, -would have no mercy upon her. She must kill or be killed; and she must -act quickly. - -Even while the herald spoke came the sound of the procession which was -bringing the king up from the ships. First, his own chariot, surrounded -by his guard and by the people who had gone out along the road to -welcome him. Then, following close behind, a chariot containing the -solitary figure of a woman, seated amid the spoils of war. She was -Cassandra, a prize of battle, brought home by Agamemnon to be his -slave-wife. But she was no ordinary slave. Daughter of Priam, King of -Troy, and virgin priestess of Apollo, she had been torn from the altar -of the god by her captor; and Clytemnestra, watching her wild eyes, knew -that Agamemnon had filled up the measure of impiety to the gods and -insult to herself. - -Agamemnon uttered a laconic greeting to the people, while the queen -stood tense and still. By no word or sign did he acknowledge his wife: -only, in perfunctory terms, hailed his country and his country’s gods, -and thanked the people for their welcome. - -Then Clytemnestra, holding tremendous passions in the leash, began her -formal speech of welcome. - -CLY. _Men! Citizens! ye reverend Argive seniors, - No shame feel I, even to your face, to tell - My husband-loving ways._[13] - -The hour has come for which she has waited so long: her desperate plan -is formed: all that may have been needed to strengthen it has been -heaped upon her in the pride and insolence of the king. But she must -dissemble a little longer; she must force herself to speak lovingly, to -appear faithful before the people, and to lull suspicion in Agamemnon’s -mind. In her husband’s speech there had been a veiled menace: and now, -after the first conventional phrases of affection, her words, too, take -on a double meaning; and an undercurrent of bitter irony runs through -them. On the surface lies the obvious meaning, to meet the exigency of -the moment; just below it lay another sense, designed to leap to life -and plead for her when the deed that she is contemplating shall be -accomplished. - - “_There comes a time when all fear fades and dies. - ... Does any heart but mine - Know the long burden of the life I bore - While he was under Troy?_“[14] - -The time has indeed come to put aside fear, but for a reason that these -senators cannot see yet, any more than they can conceive the real nature -of the burden that she had borne so long. To say that Clytemnestra’s -speech is not really that of a faithful wife, that it is too loud in its -protestations of joy, too insistent and eager in its avowal of fidelity, -is beside the mark. For not only is Agamemnon in all probability aware -of Clytemnestra’s sin, but she realizes that he may be aware of it. -Hence the deep irony of the situation; and hence too the fact that these -protestations, begun calmly and deliberately with the object of -deceiving the crowd, gradually take on a different tone. The king’s -manner to her from the moment of arrival had been cold, even repellent. -The conviction grows that he has been forewarned, and with that -conviction, the sense of danger to herself is heightened. As her speech -proceeds we seem to feel her quickening pulse and tingling nerve, we -seem to share the rush of fear that sweeps away restraint and carries -her along a torrent of language that is wild, vehement, and almost -frenzied. - - “_Now with heart at peace - I hail my King, my watchdog of the fold, - My ship’s one cable of hope, my pillar firm - Where all else reels, my father’s one-born heir, - My land scarce seen at sea when hope was dead, - My happy sunrise after nights of storm, - My living well-spring in the wilderness! - Oh, it is joy, the waiting time is past! - Thus, King, I greet thee home. No god need grudge— - Sure we have suffered in time past enough— - This one day’s triumph._“[14] - -At this point she seeks relief in action from the stress of emotion: - - “_Light thee, sweet my husband - From this high seat: yet set not on bare earth - Thy foot, great King, the foot that trampled Troy! - Ho thralls, why tarry ye, whose task is set - To carpet the King’s way? Bring priceless crimson: - Let all his path be red, and Justice guide him, - Who saw his deeds, at last, unhoped for, home._“[14] - -Self-control is clearly returning. There is profound significance in her -closing words, an invocation to Justice to lead Agamemnon to his doom. -There is an inner motive, too, as well as awful irony, in the invitation -to the king to walk on ‘priceless crimson.’ She must contrive that he -will commit himself still further before the people, who are already -stirred by faction and chilled by his hauteur. In the full light of what -she is about to do, she sees that this is Agamemnon’s last public act; -and has determined that the man of blood shall walk to his death along a -crimson path. The deed is almost sacrilege; but after some protest, -Agamemnon yields to her entreaties. - - “_If you must have it so, let some one loose - The shoe that like a slave supports my tread; - Lest, trampling o’er these royal dyes, some god - Smite me with envious glances from afar._“[15] - -He has a consciousness of what he is doing, and his mind misgives him; -but he who could deny to the mother the life of her child, cannot refuse -this indulgence to his pride. Clytemnestra, in exultation that she can -hardly conceal, reassures him. In lines of exquisite poetic beauty, but -weighted with a meaning that he does not see, she declares that this -honour is his due; that it is a sacrifice for his return. Then, as -Agamemnon passes within the palace, she remains for one instant outside. -The fire of exultation dies away. She forgets the people standing round, -the need for dissimulation, the danger of discovery. One thought sweeps -everything else away—the thought of the stupendous deed that she is -about to attempt, its horror and its peril. She raises her hands and -utters an awful prayer: - - “_Zeus—thou fulfillest all—fulfil my prayer! - And take good heed of all thou doest herein!_“[15] - -Then she follows Agamemnon into the palace. But there remains one person -whom she has overlooked, Cassandra, priestess and prophetess of Apollo. -As the Chorus takes up a lovely song full of foreboding, the queen -returns and calls to Cassandra to come within. But there has fallen upon -Cassandra a prophetic vision of the crime. She is distraught with fear -and horror, and can find no answer to the imperious queen. Clytemnestra, -to whom every moment is of infinite importance, suddenly loses all her -dignity in mere rage at the silent, helpless girl. - - “_I have not time to waste out here with her. - By this the victims at our midmost hearth - Stand ready for the slaughter and the fire;— - Rich thank-offerings for mercies long despaired. - ... I’ll not demean myself - By throwing more words away._“[15] - -As Clytemnestra passes a second time within doors, the poor captive -begins to wail a prophecy of what is about to be enacted there. She -mourns for the awful curse upon the house. - - “_There bides within - A band of voices,—all in unison, - Yet neither sweet nor tuneful, for their song - Is not of blessing. Ay, a revel-rout, - Ever emboldened with new draughts of blood, - Within these walls, a furious multitude, - Hard to drive forth, keep haunt, all of one kin. - They cling to the walls; they hymn the primal curse, - Their fatal hymn._” - -She foresees the death of Agamemnon, and her own fate beside him. Twice -she approaches the palace and twice recoils in horror. But at last, -committing herself to Apollo, she rushes within; and instantly there -rises a dreadful cry. It is the voice of the king. - - “_Ah! Ah! I am mortally stricken, here, in the palace!_” - -The old men stand paralysed with fear; and before they can move a step -to help, the agonized voice cries a second time: - - “_Oh me! Again I am smitten, to the death!_” - -There is an instant uproar and outcry. The palace becomes noisy with -hurrying feet and clamorous voices; the old men feebly rush this way and -that, unable to decide, in their weakness and senility, how to act. In -the midst of the disorder, the doors of the palace are thrown open, and -Clytemnestra is revealed, weapon in hand, bending over the body of -Agamemnon. A dreadful hush falls; and the queen, drawing herself up -before the people, deliberately confesses to the deed and declares her -motives. - - “_I, who spake much before to serve my need, - Will here unspeak it, unappalled by shame. - ... Time, and thought still brooding - On that old quarrel, brought me to this blow. - ‘Tis done, and here I stand: here where I smote him!— - I so contrived it,—that I’ll ne’er deny,— - As neither loophole nor defence was left him.... - Such—O ye Argive elders who stand here,— - Such is the fact. Whereat, an if ye will, - Rejoice ye!... - Such a cup of death - He filled with household crime, and now, returning, - Has drained in retribution._” - -But to the Senators only one thing is clear. A terrible crime has been -committed: their king has been foully slain. All Clytemnestra’s pleas in -extenuation of the deed are wasted words. To them the situation is -tragically simple: her guilt is plain; there is but one word that fits -her—murderess. There is no question for them of reason or of motive. -What she claims to be a righteous judgment upon Agamemnon, they declare -to be a crime demanding punishment. But they are not strong enough to -enforce their will; and when they threaten Clytemnestra with banishment, -she answers with scorn. - - “_That is your sentence. I must fly the land - With public execration on my head. - Wise justicers! What said ye, then, to him - Who slew his child, nor recked of her dear blood - More than if sacrificing some ewe-lamb - From countless flocks that choked the teeming fold, - But slew the priceless travail of my womb - For a charm, to allay the wind from Thrace?..._” - - “_Then hear my oath. By mighty Justice, - Final avenger of my murdered child, - By Atè and Erinys, gods of power, - To whom I sacrificed this man, I look not - For danger as an inmate, whiles our hearth - Is lightened by Aegisthus, evermore, - As hitherto, constant in love to me; - My shield, my courage!_“[15] - -[Illustration: - - CLYTÆMNESTRA - - _Hon. John Collier_ - - _By permission from the original picture in the Guildhall Art Gallery_ -] - -Then, as the elders mourn the death of the king and the demon of -vengeance that haunts the house, Clytemnestra, in passionate conviction, -declares that she has been merely an instrument of that spirit of -vengeance. - - “_But I - Here make my compact with the hellish Power - That haunts the house of Atreus. What has been, - Though hard, we will endure. But let him leave - This roof, and plague some other race henceforth - With kindred-harrowing strife. Small share of wealth - Shall amply serve, now I have made an end - Of mutual-murdering madness in this hall._“[15] - -She comforts herself with the thought that now at last the Furies are -appeased. No doubt of her own motives assails her: no warning hint that -crime is not cancelled by fresh crime. In the first glow of triumph she -has no premonition of the return of an avenging son. She proposes to -herself a reign of peace with Egisthus which shall erase all memory of -the past. - - “_Might but this be all of sorrow, we would bargain now for peace.... - I and thou together ruling with a firm and even hand, - Will control and keep in order both the palace and the land._“[15] - -On this note of false security the _Agamemnon_ closes; and for the fate -of Clytemnestra, which now becomes bound up with the story of Electra, -we must go to the second drama of the trilogy, the _Libation-bearers_. - ------ - -Footnote 13: - - From Professor J. S. Blackie’s translation of the _Agamemnon_ - (Everyman’s Library). - -Footnote 14: - - From Professor G. Murray’s translation of part of the _Agamemnon_ in - his _Ancient Greek Literature_ (William Heinemann). - -Footnote 15: - - From Professor Lewis Campbell’s translation of the _Agamemnon_ - (Clarendon Press). - - - - -_Æschylus: Electra_ - - -The Æschylean Trilogy pauses at the point of Clytemnestra’s triumph. The -first drama, the _Agamemnon_, ends there. We left the queen tasting the -joy of revenge, but by no means gloating heartlessly over Agamemnon’s -fall. She was conscious of the magnitude of the event; and the awfulness -of her deed would have daunted even her strong spirit had she not been -confident that she was the instrument of destiny in striking down the -proud and cruel king. - -The friends of Agamemnon, the loyal faction which should have risen -against her, must have been few and weak. They were evidently soon -subdued. They could not stand against the force of her powerful will; -and, moreover, she combined with her strength a wise tact and a keen -sense of justice. Doubtless these qualities had gone far to establish -her government in Agamemnon’s long absence. Her sway was no new thing to -the people of Argos; and when she resumed it with Egisthus as her -consort, she took up the thread of her former life, with little outward -sign to mark the change. - -Underneath the surface of national life, wrath and horror at the murder -of the king must have smouldered. Inside the palace itself, as we shall -see presently, there was a small party ardently devoted to his memory -and to the cause of his absent son, Orestes. But they were no match for -Clytemnestra; and she in her turn, having shaken off the nightmare of -fear in which she had lived for so many years, proposed to herself a -future that should cleanse and sweeten all the past. Her first emotion -was one of intense relief, not only from the long strain of suspense, -but from the fact that now, as she firmly believed, the old curse upon -the house of Atreus had at last been fulfilled. Her hand had dealt the -final blow; the last life demanded by that implacable spirit had now -been offered up. Henceforward it only remained to wipe out the past by -just rule and sober living. - -So for a time—we do not know quite how long—she lulled herself in false -security. Years may have passed in this ominous calm: memory fell -asleep, and she lived serenely in a present that was full of such -interest and action as her mind delighted in. In such a mood, she would -not observe, or would disregard, small signs of disaffection around her. -Day by day she would see the sad face of her daughter Electra; but until -some shock came to awaken her sleeping soul, Electra’s accusing eyes -would fall upon her unheeded. The awakening came at last, however; and -it is at this point that Æschylus opens the second part of his Trilogy, -in the drama called the _Choephorœ, or Libation-Bearers_. - -The scene is laid outside the Royal Palace at Mycenæ, before that tomb -of Agamemnon which archæologists within recent years have brought to -light on the ancient site of the city. The time is morning, and two -young men, who have evidently travelled far, approach the tomb. One is -Orestes, the son of Agamemnon whom Clytemnestra had sent away as a -child. The other is his dear friend Pylades. Orestes has returned -secretly to Argos, bidden by the oracle of Apollo to avenge his father’s -death. But he has no army: he does not know that he has a single friend -in Mycenæ; and his purpose is fraught with extreme danger. How he will -accomplish it he cannot yet imagine; but he must first try to discover -if there are any in the palace who will befriend him. - -As they reach the tomb, Orestes calls upon Hermes, the god who guides -the shades of the dead, and invokes his father’s spirit. - - “_O Hermes of the Shades, that watchest over - My buried father’s right, be now mine aid. - I come from exile to this land. Oh save me!_ - - · · · · · - - _Father, here standing at thy tomb I bid thee - Hear me! Oh hear!_“[16] - -Then, according to a solemn custom of the heroic age, Orestes begins to -clip the locks of hair from his head and place them upon the tomb as a -votive offering. As he is thus engaged, a train of mourning women slowly -emerge from the palace, carrying vessels in their hands with libations -for the dead. They are slaves, captive Trojan women whom the poet uses -as the Chorus of his Drama; and they are followed at a little distance -by the drooping figure of a girl, whom Orestes rightly believes to be -his sister Electra. They are coming to pour offerings at the tomb of the -king. This in itself is a sign of encouragement to Orestes. But he dare -not show himself until he is assured that they are friendly to his -cause; and he and Pylades hastily withdraw, where they may hear and see -the ceremony without being seen. - -The women are singing; and as their lovely parodos rises and falls, we -learn why they are coming thus early to the neglected tomb of the -murdered king. The astounding fact reveals itself that they are sent by -Clytemnestra. Clearly, the awakening has come to her at last. In the -night that has just passed she had been visited by a dream that seemed -to her a dreadful portent. She had started from her bed, screaming with -horror, and had called for lights. But the crowding women with their -lamps could not drive away the vision of the fearful serpent-birth that -had turned and rent her breast. And Clytemnestra, her conscience -suddenly shaken into life, had sent for the interpreters. They had no -comfort for her, however, in their reply: - - _They cried, aloud, by heavenly sureties bound,— - “One rages there beneath - Menacing death for death....”_ - -So the interpreters confirmed her fear, that this dream was an omen sent -from the unquiet spirit of her husband. Remorse assailed her. The shade -of Agamemnon, neglected hitherto, must be propitiated. As soon as -daylight came, libations should be poured upon the tomb; and that they -should be acceptable, Electra should perform the rite. She might not -herself call upon that dread spirit in the underworld; but Electra, with -her grief-marred face and her loyal love to her father, would be a -fitting suppliant. - -Thus it happens that Electra, in the first light of early morning, -stands at the tomb. Her heart is filled with bitter grief. She loathes -the task that she is commanded to perform—the rite which, after years of -callous neglect, is only now offered to the injured shade because some -beginning of fear has come into her mother’s mind. In all this time, -none of the dues that are sacred to the dead had been permitted for -Agamemnon. No libations had been poured, no locks had been shorn from -the head; and even the mourning of Electra and her women had had to be -hidden away from sight and sound of the queen. Now, suddenly, from no -motive of love or reverence to the dead, from no sense of tenderness to -her daughter, from no reason that Electra can perceive save a -premonition of danger to herself, Clytemnestra orders that the proper -ceremonies shall be observed. - -Electra cannot see the real motive which sways the queen. Partly from -her very youth and innocence, partly because there is in her a tinge of -the iron temper of her father, she is blind to everything but -Clytemnestra’s guilt. She sees her mother in the light of one fact -only—the murder of the being whom she had loved most dearly. And looking -back upon the past, all its events are viewed through that harsh light. -There was the banishment of her brother Orestes; the coming of the -strange man Egisthus whom, for some reason that she could not then -comprehend, she had always loathed; the return and death of her father; -her own subsequent misery and degradation. With the hardness of youth, -she can conceive of nothing which could explain her mother’s action, -much less palliate it. Her sister Iphigenia she could not clearly -remember; and if the story of her sacrifice was known to Electra, her -absolute devotion to her father accepted it unquestioningly. In no case -could she apprehend how that crime would wound her mother; just as she -could not see or understand the darker side of Agamemnon’s character. -Only one thing was painfully realized—that the great king who was her -father, and who had known how to be tender to the little girl he left at -home in Mycenæ, had been done to death by the woman she called her -mother. And now this woman, whom the years had taught Electra to hate, -commanded her to supplicate the wronged dead for peace. Electra cannot, -and will not, entreat the dead in terms like these; and her first speech -is awful with the bitterness in her heart. She turns to the slaves, the -Trojan women who are attending her: - - “_Ministrant women, orderers of the house, - Since ye move with me to this suppliant rite, - Be ye my counsellors, how I must perform it. - When I pour this tribute at the grave, - What words will be in tune? What prayer will please? - Shall I say, Father, from a loving wife - This comes to thy dear soul: yea, from my mother?’ - That dare I not.—I know not how to speak, - Shedding this draught upon my father’s tomb. - Or shall I say, as mortals use, ‘Give back - The giver meet return?—to wit, some evil’? - ... Be kind, and speak._“[16] - -Grief and anger make her speech broken and barely coherent, as her -thoughts are. But below the emotion, and almost unconsciously, there is -a hint of some purpose forming. Once for all she puts aside her mother’s -orders; but she is not clear what will take their place. The dawning -thought has not taken shape yet; and the vague counsels of the women do -not at first help her. But presently they speak the name of Orestes, and -bid her look for help to him. She is startled at the name, and the gleam -of hope it brings lights up the underlying thought. She realizes -suddenly what it means. - -ELEC. _Well said and wisely! That most heartens me._ - -CHO. _Then think of those who shed this blood, and pray—_ - -ELEC. _How? Teach me; I am ignorant. Speak on._ - -CHO. _Some power, divine or human, may descend——_ - -ELEC. _To judge or execute? What wilt thou say?_ - -CHO. _Few words, but clear. To kill the murderer._[16] - -Here then is the thought of her own brain, clothed in words and echoed -back to her from the women whom she has implored to advise. But put thus -into cold language, they have a dreadful sound from which she recoils in -horror. - -ELEC. _But will the gods not frown upon such prayer?_ - -CHO. _Do they not favour vengeance on a foe?_[16] - -In this tense dramatic moment, we are shown what the theme of the Drama -is to be. We are shown too, as vividly and almost as rapidly as in a -lightning-flash, the clear outlines of Electra’s character. The -beautiful devotion to her father’s memory: the blind hatred of -Clytemnestra: the desire for revenge vaguely forming, and leaping -full-grown at the first prompting from without; but—and here is the -crux—that desire held in check by a profound religious sentiment. This -reverence for the gods makes the whole tragedy, for Electra and Orestes -both; it provides the dramatist with the inevitable inner conflict round -which the action will revolve; and, most important of all, it has an -ethical significance which will sanctify the revenge of Electra and -Orestes. For while the mere human impulse with them both is to strike -back rapidly and without mercy for the blow that has killed their -father, a higher sense restrains them; and it needs an imperious mandate -from Apollo to nerve them to the deed. This reluctance for the shedding -of blood is a new thing in the age-long record of the house of Tantalus. -When Electra asks whether the gods will not frown upon a prayer for -vengeance, there is the birth of a holier spirit which will atone for -and purify all those old crimes. - -But first the final retribution must fall. Electra now lifts her voice -in solemn prayer to the awful gods of the underworld and to the spirit -of her father. She prays for a wiser heart and purer hand than her -mother’s. With almost faltering words—literally constrained thereto, she -says—she prays for vengeance; and she implores that Orestes may return -and claim the throne now occupied by the hated Egisthus. - -It is at this moment, just as the prayer closes in the Choral hymn, that -Electra sees the locks of hair upon the tomb. She is amazed, almost -alarmed. There is only one creature in all the world who should bring -such an offering. If any other has placed it here, it is an act of -sacrilege. She takes up the hair, examines it, and speaks about it -rapidly and anxiously to the women. Gradually the conviction dawns that -it can be no other than a votive lock shorn from the head of Orestes -himself. Then he has been here? But where is he now? The thought that he -has indeed returned, that he may even be near at hand at this moment, -drives wild hope and fear alternately through her mind. Holding the lock -within her hand, she says: - - “_Ah! could it but speak, and tell me - Kind news, I were not shaken thus and cloven, - Thinking two ways: but either with clear scorn - I would renounce it, as an enemy’s hair; - Or being my brother’s, it should mourn with me, - And pay sweet honours at our father’s tomb._“[16] - -Meantime, Orestes in his hiding-place had verified the fact that Electra -was his sister. He had reassured himself, too, on another vital point. -What he had heard and seen had convinced him that this group of women at -least was friendly to his cause. And at its head, holding out against -great odds, and suffering extreme ills in consequence, was this brave -spirit of Electra who, with all her tender and loyal devotion, was -strong enough to dare the uttermost with him. He need no longer delay to -reveal himself. He had heard Electra’s prayer for his return, and for -vengeance on his father’s murderers; and, stepping forward, he came like -an instant answer to her petition. - -ORES. _First tell the gods thy former prayer is heard. - Then pray that all to come be likewise good._[16] - -But Electra cannot recognize in this tall young man the boy who left -their home so many years before. She is startled and incredulous; and -there follows a curious little scene which, if it occurred in a modern -play, would simply cause derision. Orestes gives such quaint evidence of -his identity—the colour of his hair, which matches her own; the length -of their footprints, which is similar; the embroidery on the robe that -he is wearing, which he says was wrought by her own hands before he went -to Athens. The poet is not very much concerned with probabilities. He -has a great religious purpose which dominates all other considerations; -and in the sublime onward sweep of the tragedy we are not troubled by -minor inconsistencies. At this point they are simply lost sight of, in -the keen dramatic interest of the scene when Electra is at last -convinced that this is indeed her brother. What is proof to her is more -than ample proof to us. - -ELEC. _Shall I, in very truth, call thee Orestes?_ - -ORES. _You see myself ... - Nay, be not lost in gladness! Curb thy heart - We know, our nearest friends are dangerous foes._ - -ELEC. _Centre of fondness in thy father’s hall, - Tear-watered hope of blessings yet to be, - Faith in thy might shall win thee back thy home! - Oh how I joy beholding thee! Thou hast_ - _Four parts in my desires, not one alone. - I call thee Father: and my mother’s claim - Falls to thy side, since utter hate is hers. - And my poor butchered sister’s share is thine. - And I adore thee as my own true brother. - But oh! may holy Right and Victory, - And highest Zeus, the Saviour, speed thee too!_[16] - -Then Orestes plainly declares the reason for his return, and taking up -Electra’s prayer to Zeus, he cries for help in the vengeance to be -accomplished for his father. He claims that he has a direct mandate from -Apollo. - -ORES. _... Apollo’s mighty word - Will be performed, that bade me stem this peril. - High rose that sovran voice, and clearly spake - Of stormy curses that should freeze my blood, - Should I not wreak my father’s wrongful death. - He bade me pay them back the self-same deed - Maddened by loss of all: yea, mine own soul - Should know much bitterness, were not this done._ - - _... For one so slain - Sees clearly, though his brows in darkness move!— - The darkling arrow of the dead, that flies - From kindred souls abominably slain ... - Should harass and unman me ..._ - - _... I should have no share - Of wine or dear libation, but, unseen, - My father’s wrath should drive me from all altars._[16] - -Thus the command of Apollo was clear, definite, and imperative; and the -oracular utterance carried with it terrible penalties, should these two -children of the murdered king dare to disobey. Yet we feel, all through -Orestes’ speech, that the conflict is warring within him too. He cannot -accept the mandate implicitly. In the emphasis that he lays on his -authority, in the precise repetition of the very words of the oracle, in -the horror with which he enumerates the threatened punishments, we know -that he is trying to fortify himself against fear and horror at the -deed. Now that he comes close to his actual purpose, a strange new -questioning spirit arises which he strives to appease—a shuddering -reluctance which compels him to throw himself back upon the divine -mandate. “Was not this a word to be obeyed?” he asks; and then, “Yea! -Were it not, the deed must yet be done.” - -But struggle as Orestes may, the doubt will not be quelled. The crime of -mother-murder which they contemplate starts up before them in all its -hideous barbarity; and the burden imposed on Orestes is more than he can -bear. As we know, it will lead him ultimately to madness. All through -the _kommos_ which follows, a long and sublimely mournful hymn chanted -alternately by Orestes, Electra and the Chorus, the brother and sister -seem to be battling with this question of the righteousness of their -action. They appeal to Zeus and to the powers of the nether world: they -cry to the spirit of their father: they remind each other of the cruelty -and shamelessness of Clytemnestra: they recall the greatness of -Agamemnon, and contrast it with his ignominious end: they dwell upon the -wrongs done to Electra, and the sin of Egisthus, and the curse upon -their house. The wave of emotion rises and falls. At one moment a solemn -confidence reassures them that the vengeance is righteous; at another, -the doubt sweeps back and shatters their assurance, and again they are -driven to bewail their wrongs and invoke the name of Justice. - -ORES. _Father, no word of mine, no deed may bring - Light to the darkness where thou liest below:_ - _Yet shall the dirge lament thy matchless woe, - And grace the tomb of Argos’ noblest king...._ - -ELEC. _Hear me, too, father, mourning in my turn; - Both thine afflicted ones towards thee yearn. - Both outcasts, both sad suppliants at thy tomb. - What dawn may pierce this overwhelming gloom?..._ - -ORES. _Where is your power to save, - Lords of the grave? - Oh curse, of endless might, - From lips long lost to light, - We, last of Atreus’ race - Implore thy dreadful grace, - Reft of our halls, and outlawed from our right, - Zeus, whither should we turn?_[16] - -At this point is felt most strongly the undercurrent of doubt and -horror. It brims and rushes, overwhelming for a time the confident sense -of justice and trust in the oracle of the god. And here the Chorus, -expressing, as its function is, the brooding meditation of an onlooker, -echoes their inmost thought in sympathetic strains: - -CHOR. _Again ye make my changeful heart to yearn, - Listening your plaintive cry. One while I feel - My soul with dark misgivings shake and reel, - But by and by the clouds are rolled away - And courage heightens with new hopes of day._ - -ELEC. _Oh mother! Oh enemy! Oh hard soul! - Like a foe, unhonoured by funeral bowl, - Though a prince, unfollowed by mean or high, - Thou didst bury thy husband without one sigh._ - -ORES. _Ah! ah! every word there hath stung. - But shall she not pay - For each shame she then flung - On my sire?_ - -[Illustration: - - ELECTRA - - _Gertrude Demain Hammond R.I._ -] - -ELEC. _Thou hearest our father’s death; but I was driven - To grieve apart beneath the dews of heaven; - Chased from the chambers like a thievish hound, - To pour my grief in tears upon the ground, - They came more readily than smiles.... Write this in thy - soul ..._ - -ORES. _Father, assist thy children in their deed!_ - -ELEC. _Thy daughter’s tears implore thee in deep need!..._ - -ORES. _The cause is set. The battle doth begin!_ - -ELEC. _Oh gods, be just; and make the righteous win!_[16] - -The resolution is taken at last. It remains now only to ask their -father’s blessing, before putting it into effect. Orestes begs for power -to rule well in Agamemnon’s stead, and promises rich sacrifices to his -shade. - -ELEC. _And I will bring - Choice offerings from all my patrimony - In day of marriage, and will honour first - My father’s tomb from the paternal hall...._ - -ORES. _Either send justice fighting on our side, - If thou wouldst gain requital for thy fall, - Or grant us to catch them as they caught thee._ - -ELEC. _Hear this last cry, my father! Look with pity - On these thy young ones sitting at thy grave, - And feel for both, the maiden and the man._[16] - -The real crisis of the tragedy is in this wonderful ode, although the -action has all to follow. Doubts and fears are now subdued: Orestes and -Electra have risen to a height of stern conviction which will carry them -to the fulfilment of their purpose, although neither it nor the sanction -of Apollo will save them from remorse. The action moves rapidly now, as -though the revenge must be accomplished at once, in the heat of this -terrible purpose. Orestes is told of Clytemnestra’s dream—that she had -borne a serpent which had turned and rent her breast. He welcomes it -gladly, as an auspicious omen for him; and forms a hasty plan of action. -He and Pylades will apply for entrance at the palace gates, with a -feigned story of Orestes’ death. Electra must make ready for them -within, and secure their admittance. They will kill Egisthus first, and -afterward complete the revenge by the murder of Clytemnestra. - -It is not a very skilful plot, but it succeeds. Clytemnestra receives -Orestes and his friend, believing them to be strangers from Phokis. She -is grieved and shocked at their story of Orestes’ death; and goes out to -apprise Egisthus of it. Presently Egisthus passes across the stage -alone, on his way to give an audience to the guests and, though he does -not know it, to pay the penalty for his crime. He goes into the palace, -and an instant afterward he is heard to utter a dreadful cry. Attendants -rush forth, calling upon the name of the queen. - -CLYTEM. _What cry is here? What dost thou by the gate?_ - -ATTEN. _I say, the dead have slain the living there._ - -CLYTEM. _Ay me! I read thy riddle! Oh! undone! - By guile, even as we slew! Give me an axe, - A strong one; quickly too! I’ll dare the issue, - Be it for me or against me! I am come - To the utterance in this fight with Fate and Doom._[16] - -Then there follows an awful scene between Orestes and Clytemnestra, as -she grieves over the body of Egisthus. - -ORES. _Was he so dear to thee? Then thou shalt lie - In the same grave with blameless constancy._ - -CLYTEM. _Oh son, forbear! O child, respect and pity - This breast, whereat thou often, soothed to slumber, - Drainèdst with baby mouth the bounteous milk._[16] - -For an instant these poignant words make Orestes waver; and he half -turns to Pylades with an appeal for counsel. But the answer is a stern -reminder of the oracular command; and the pitying moment passes. - -ORES. _How should I live with her who killed my sire?_ - -CLYTEM. _The destinies wrought there. My son! my son!_ - -ORES. _Destiny works a different doom to-day...._ - -CLYTEM. _Oh! Wilt thou kill thy mother? O my son!_ - -ORES. _I kill thee not. Thy sin destroyeth thee...._ - -CLYTEM. _Ah!_ - - _I have borne and reared a serpent for my son._ - -ORES. _Then is fulfilled the terror of thy dream!_[16] - -So Clytemnestra falls at the hands of Orestes; but the vengeance has no -joy for him. Before his mother’s mighty spirit has taken its way along -the road to Hades, a torture of remorse has fallen upon her son. Even -while he stands above the murdered body, her avenging Furies come -thronging about him “with Gorgon faces and thick serpent hair” and he -feels his reason totter. - -ORES. _Hear me declare:—How this will end I know not. - I feel the chariot of my spirit borne - Far wide. My soul, like an ill-managed courser, - Is carrying me away, while my poor heart - To her own music dances in wild fear._[16] - -He cries in anguish to Apollo to justify him; but there comes no answer -from the god; and faster and faster crowd those grizzly spectre forms, -rushing upon him in hideous multitudes, and menacing him with ghastly -torments. And as the tragedy closes, we see Orestes fleeing before the -rout of the Furies to find sanctuary at the shrine of Apollo, while the -Chorus wails: - - “_When shall cease - Dread, Atè’s fury? When be lulled to peace?_”[16] - -We hear no more of Electra from Æschylus. Measured by action, or even by -language, the part she plays in his trilogy is quite a small one. It is -significant, too, that this her first appearance in Attic Tragedy is not -called by her name, but the _Libation-bearers_. Such a title, while it -serves to remind us of a stage of Greek Drama when the Chorus was the -whole play, indicates also the poet’s conception of the theme. To -Æschylus, the religious act at Agamemnon’s tomb, with all that it -implies, was of much greater import than the figure of the great king’s -daughter. The force of destiny, the amazing mandate of the god and its -conflict with filial love and duty, and the pursuit of the matricide by -the Furies, constitute for him the essence of the tragedy. The spiritual -aspect of the story transcends for him the human interest of it. Hence -his characters, though sublimely great, are great in outline only; and -hence the brief appearance of Electra. - -But when we find that Sophocles and Euripides, who wrote about Electra -afterward, have boldly made her the protagonist, and have called their -plays by her name, we are prepared for a change of attitude. The story -is now viewed from a more human standpoint. The protagonist is no longer -a chorus, but a woman: the ruling passion is now not so much a -principle, a moral, a duty, or any idea in the abstract; but strong -human will, intense human love, and mortal hatred. The motive of the -Drama is no longer a religious ceremonial, but the enactment of a tragic -story. And the final result is not now that of a grand moral lesson -conveyed through the lips of shadowy demi-gods, but a really dramatic -drama. - -It follows, therefore, that with this change the character of Electra -has taken on a stronger and more complete individuality. In the version -of Sophocles, she rises to her greatest height. She is a creature who -can endure to the end and dare the uttermost: of absorbing love and -strenuous hatred: tender and strong. Unbending and uncompromising, she -is in conflict not only with the mother whom she loathes, but with the -weakness of a sister whom she loves. Implacable to her enemies, she is -capable of absolute devotion to the memory of her father and to the -absent Orestes; and in these contrasted qualities Sophocles has made of -his Electra a tremendously dramatic figure. For the finest drama, and -for the most enthralling story we must go to him. But his purpose seems -to have been merely artistic. He takes a hint from the old legend, and -developing its possibilities to the utmost he evolves a play which is -perhaps more powerful as drama and certainly more perfect as art than -that of Æschylus or Euripides. But it has hardly any other significance. -His conception of Electra, while finely complete and harmonious, is of a -being untroubled by ethical considerations, and casting no fearful -glance ‘before and after.’ - -With Euripides, on the other hand, the character of the protagonist -becomes more deeply significant than even Æschylus had made her. For -Euripides, the mandate of the god was false, and the vengeance taken was -a stupendous crime against humanity. When Orestes and Electra, wrought -up by passion, have accomplished it, Euripides makes reaction come to -them as to any other mortal being. They are not pursued by visible -Furies, from which they may flee to the sanctuary of Apollo, but by -remorse and cankering doubt of their own motives. For him they are -simply human creatures; and the touch of realism, animated as it is by a -daring sceptical spirit, has laid a blight on much that was beautiful in -the earlier conception of Electra’s character. To recover that, we must -go back to the _Libation-bearers_ of Æschylus. - ------ - -Footnote 16: - - From Professor Lewis Campbell’s translation of the _Choephorœ_ - (Clarendon Press). - - - - -_Æschylus: Cassandra_ - - -For the beginning of Cassandra’s story we must go back to the epic -theme. The first word which Homer tells of her is in the Thirteenth Book -of the _Iliad_, where she is called “the fairest of Priam’s daughters.” -But that is late in the Siege; and there is a legend which gives her an -earlier connection with the tale of Troy. Indeed, we find that she was a -link in the chain of events which led Helen and the Greek army to her -native city. When she was still a young girl she had, in some mysterious -way, been beloved by the god Apollo. The god gave her the gift of -prophecy; but because she refused his love he angrily confounded the -gift that he could not recall by decreeing that her prophetic utterances -should never be believed. This is the central point round which our -thought about Cassandra must revolve. She is the virgin priestess who -holds herself inviolate even from the embraces of a divine lover; and -she is an oracle of clear vision and stainless truth, whose divination -is cursed with futility. - -The events of her career show blacker and more hideous against the clear -light of her spirit. All through the long agony of the Trojan war we -have a sense of Cassandra at the altar, lifting pure hands in -supplication for her dear city. The fighting raged outside the walls -like an angry sea, while inside the town and away in the Greek -encampment all the passions let loose by war raged no less fiercely than -the battle itself. But Cassandra, withdrawn from sight and sound of the -conflict, continued to pray and sacrifice. Her life was consecrated. And -although the gods themselves seemed sometimes leagued against her; -although she had a perception of what the end must be, nothing could -weaken her endurance nor shake her will. The Trojan princes wooed her in -vain: the love of the great Sun-god himself could not make her swerve. -The glory of her beauty: her gift of vision: her lofty impassioned soul, -were vowed irrevocably to the service of her country and her home. - -Yet this idealist and mystic was destined to suffer the worst -brutalities of war in the hour of Troy’s destruction. She was made -captive at her own altar; and was carried away by Agamemnon to be his -slave-wife and the rival of his queen. The mind revolts at the thought: -it is too awful to contemplate, and will not shape itself in cold -reflection. The poets seem to have felt this; and we find that Æschylus -and Euripides, who have both dwelt upon the story of Cassandra’s -downfall, rise to stormy heights of emotion when they tell about it. - -Euripides has placed Cassandra in the group of royal women in his -_Troades_. The time of the drama is the morning which follows the -overthrow of Troy; and the action represents the carrying-off of the -princesses by their captors. It is, one would think, a time and a scene -quite unfitted for dramatic presentation. The immense excitement—of -victory on the one hand and defeat upon the other—has ebbed away; and -all that remains to the Trojan women is misery so profound and hopeless -as almost to be beyond the power of expression. The measure of their -pain seems to claim a reverent silence; and we feel that the _Troades_ -does need the sanction of the ethical purpose which Professor Murray has -found in it. But once we realize the deep and humane thought behind it: -that the poet has chosen this part of the story expressly to reveal the -hideous suffering which war entails upon women, the tragedy is fraught -with significance. - -The final act of Cassandra’s life is given by Æschylus in the -_Agamemnon_. He, no less than Euripides, feels the appalling tragedy of -her story; and both poets have put into her lips lyrics of wild and -haunting beauty. But Æschylus, by removing the action to Mycenæ and by -bringing Cassandra into conflict with Clytemnestra, has wrought a climax -of extraordinary power. - - * * * * * - -If there be any truth in the legend, it was Cassandra who first -recognized the shepherd Paris for the son of Priam. The stripling who -descended from the glens of Mt. Ida to compete in the games outside the -city was unknown and unloved by the Trojans whom he defeated. They were -jealous of the handsome stranger who carried off the prizes from them; -and he soon found himself embroiled with Priam’s athletic sons. He was -hard beset. The odds were heavy against him; and like a hunted animal he -flung himself before the altar of Apollo for protection. - - _And lo! Apollo’s priestess with a train - Of holy maidens came into that place, - And jar did she outshine the rest in grace, - But in her eyes such dread was frozen then - As glares eternal from the gorgon’s face - Wherewith Athene quells the ranks of men._[17] - -It was of course Cassandra. She had never before seen this young -suppliant who was clinging to the altar; but as she looked on him now -there came upon her a revelation of his identity. She knew of the old -ring which had been placed about her baby brother’s neck when he was -exposed to death upon the mountain; and taking Paris by the hand, she -touched the chain he wore and slowly drew to light the talisman. - - _This sign Cassandra showed to Priam straight. - The king waxed pale and asked what this might be? - And she made answer, “Sir, and King, thy fate - That comes on all men horn hath come on thee; - This shepherd is thine own child verily.”_[17] - -Here, then, is the real beginning of the story of Cassandra. For the old -king would not be warned against his fate. He welcomed his boy as one -returned from death. A great festival was made in his honour; and of all -the many sons of Priam there was not one so dearly loved. Joy and -merriment filled the city. All the warning oracles which had spoken at -the birth of Paris were forgotten. Nothing but thanksgiving was heard -for the restoration of the fair young prince; and amid it all, Cassandra -knew that when she placed his hand in the hand of Priam, Destiny had -wrought for the fall of Troy. - -The years passed speedily at first, untouched by care; and then more -slowly, big with events. First the sailing of Paris. Then, after Helen -came back with him to Troy, an interval when the Trojans waited, -wondering how the Greeks would repay the insult. Finally, the arrival of -the Greek fleet and the beginning of the Siege. - -Priam was not unsupported in his long ordeal. Neighbouring princes -joined him against the hostile Greeks, some in the hope of reward and -some for the sake of friendship. There was one warrior, Othryoneus, who -came because he loved Cassandra. He brought no ‘gifts of wooing,’ but -made a promise to the king “of a mighty deed, namely, that he would -drive perforce out of Troy-land the sons of the Achaians.” Priam -consented to his suit; but we are not told what Cassandra thought of it. -Probably she was not consulted. It is conceivable, so tender was her -love of home and country, that to reward the hero who would save them, -she would even consent to lay aside her holy office; to recall her -soaring spirit to dwell beside the hearth. But the eye which saw so far -knew that it need not consider the present problem. Before the end, -Cassandra saw the valiant man who loved her lying pierced by the spear -of Idomeneus. - -That was toward the end of the war; and in the penultimate scene of it, -the bringing-in of Hector’s body, Cassandra appears again. She had -watched all that fearful night, when the old king went out to the Greek -camp to beg of Achilles for the body of his great son. And in the cold -light of dawn, straining her eyes from Pergamos and weary with her -vigil, she was the first to see the mournful procession. “Then beheld -she him that lay upon the bier behind the mules, and thereat she wailed -and cried aloud throughout all the town.” The people wakened at her -terrible cry, and coming out of their houses, they followed her down to -the gate to meet the unhappy king. - -Hector’s death was the beginning of the end. Troy fell. Its brave men -were slaughtered, its palaces burnt, its altars dishonoured; and worst -of all, its women and children were carried off as slaves. Of this the -_Iliad_ does not speak; but it was an event which seized and held fast -the imagination of the Attic dramatists. The glory of war, which throws -a glamour over the fighting in the epic, gives place in the later poets -to the pain and horror of it. Not because they were less brave: Æschylus -fought at the great Greek victory of Marathon; but because an advancing -civilization had brought a more reflective mind, a more humane temper, -and the birth of sacred pity. - -The _Troades_, to which we come next for the story of Cassandra, -breathes throughout the pitiful spirit of the poet Euripides. It relates -what befell the women of the royal household after the sack of the city. -As grey daylight comes we see the figure of the aged queen, prostrate -before the charred walls of the town. She rises feebly, moaning in a -bewilderment of grief and physical weakness. To her approach, one after -another, furtively, the frightened Trojan women who form the Chorus of -the play. Her crying has wakened them, and they steal out to try to -discover what fate is in store for them. Even while they ask, a -messenger Talthybius, arrives from the Greek ships. In curt phrases he -replies to the queen’s anguished inquiries about her daughters. They -have been assigned to certain of the Greek chiefs, he says: Andromache -to Neoptolemus, she herself to Odysseus, and Polyxena (he speaks -ambiguously, to hide a grimmer fact) to serve at the tomb of Achilles. -The stricken queen asks about each in turn. - -HECUBA. _Say how Cassandra’s portion lies._ - -TALTHYBIUS. _Chosen from all for Agamemnon’s prize!_ - -HECUBA. _How, ... - The sainted of Apollo? And her own - Prize that God promisèd, - Out of the golden clouds, her virgin crown?_ - -TALTHYBIUS. _He loved her for that same strange holiness._[18] - -[Illustration: - - CASSANDRA - - _Solomon J. Solomon R.A._ - - _By permission of the Artist_ -] - -Hecuba is appalled at this fate that is decreed for her child. She whose -pure spirit had always ranged beyond the things of time and sense, who -was the consecrated priestess of Apollo and set apart for holy service, -is condemned to be the slave-wife of the man who has destroyed their -city. The poor mother wails in horror at the thought: it is too awful, -too sacrilegious a deed even for these proud Greeks, and she cries out -in protest. The herald silences her with a brutal comment on the good -fortune which makes her daughter the bride of a king; and then orders an -attendant to fetch Cassandra from the tents. But there is no need for -the man to go. Even while they are speaking there comes a sudden flash -of strange fire, and the wild figure of Cassandra appears, robed in -white, garlanded with flowers and carrying a blazing torch. The fearful -events of the past night have driven her to a frenzy. Arrayed as for a -happy bridal, she comes singing a hymn to Hymen; but the terror in her -eyes, and the poignancy of the words she utters hold her hearers dumb: - - “_Hail, O Hymen 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...._ - - “_O mother, fill mine hair with happy flowers, - And speed me forth.... So liveth Loxias, - 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 brothers and my sire - Shall win again!..._“[18] - -Her frenzy gives place now to a more meditative strain. It is as though -the fiery cloud that hung about her brain was pierced for an instant by -the sight of her grieving mother. She tries to find words to comfort -Hecuba; and as the calmer mood deepens she rises to a perception of the -dignity of high failure contrasted with low success. The Trojans dying -for their homes she sees as a nobler thing than the triumph of the -Greeks. - - “_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._”[18] - -At this point the herald is suddenly roused to reply. He turns upon her -furiously for her ominous forebodings and bids her be silent. If he did -not know her for a mad woman, he says, she should suffer for boding thus -evil to the Greeks. He orders her roughly to follow him; but at his -speech the frenzy rushes over Cassandra again. She turns upon Talthybius -in magnificent anger and scorn. “How fierce a slave,” she cries; and -then the prophetic gift burns in her as she foretells in language of -awful beauty her own doom and that of Agamemnon. - - “_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 outcast ... and naked.... It is I - Beside my bridegroom; and the wild beasts cry, - And ravin on God’s chosen!..._ - - “_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 crownèd head - I come, and shining from the fires that feed - On these that slay us now, and all their seed._“[18] - -Cassandra is led away to the Greek ships, no blessing to the toiling -mariners. For even their own gods are wrath at the crime against her; -and many a heart-breaking struggle is in store for them: many a noble -ship will be lost, and many a hero’s life will pay the penalty, before -their homes are reached. Perhaps to Agamemnon more than most, the -Deities of the Elements were kind. But then they knew the fate awaiting -him, and in ironic pleasure sped him to it. There is no need to recall -the details of his arrival at Mycenæ, or of his welcome by Clytemnestra, -almost distraught by conflicting hope and fear. Agamemnon was weary of -his voyage; weary, too, of the long steep chariot-drive up from the sea. -Yielding to his wife’s entreaty to walk on costly crimson to the palace, -he turns for an instant to Cassandra’s chariot. - - “_Receive, I pray thee - This stranger-woman kindly. Heaven still smiles, - When power is used with gentleness. No mortal - Is willingly a captive, but this maid, - Of countless spoils the flower and crown, was given - To me by the army, and attends me home._”[19] - -The moment is crowded with emotion. For the briefest space—merely long -enough, in fact, to make the Trojan woman formally known to -Clytemnestra—these three strong spirits face each other. Cassandra, -wide-eyed and rigid, looks beyond the king and queen, beyond the -crowding people, at _something_ that her vision warns her is beyond the -palace doors. To Clytemnestra, her presence is an insult, and her purity -an intolerable reproach. There is one glance of bitterness and hatred -from the queen which Cassandra does not see; and then the insolent king -enters the palace, Clytemnestra following him. She returns immediately, -however, lashed to a fury in which her dignity goes to shreds. - -CLY. _In with thee too, Cassandra! Get thee in! - Since Heaven in mercy hath consigned thee here - To share our household lustral waters, one - Of many slaves that stand around our hearth. - Come from that carriage. Be not proud. Descend!_ - -The speech is cruel; and it has, moreover, an inner meaning which the -poor captive perceives only too well. She does not answer. She listens -in silence, too, when the Chorus address her; and when Clytemnestra, -with that crucial moment imminent, grows wild with impatience. “Sure she -is mad,” ejaculates the angry queen; “I’ll not demean myself by throwing -more words away.” Only when she has gone does Cassandra break silence; -and then by a wail which the sympathetic Elders cannot understand. - - “_Ai, Ai! O Apollo! Apollo!... - Builder! Destroyer! - Builder of Troy! Destroyer of me!_“[19] - -The old men pity her, and try to calm her frenzy. She looks round on -them, as if awakening from a dream, and asks what house is this. They -reply that it is the Atridæ’s palace, and the word calls up to Cassandra -the long black record of the house of Atreus. - -CASS. _Ah! a hideous den, abhorred of Heaven, - Guilt-stained with strangled lives.... Ah! faugh!_ - -CHO. _Her scent is keen, this stranger’s! Like a hound - She snuffs for blood. And she will find, I doubt me._[19] - -In a long recital, Cassandra recounts the ancient crimes of the Atridæ; -and in dark oracular language moans that there is worse behind. The old -men are perplexed. They cannot follow her meaning, though over and over -again she struggles to make clear the doom that is even now about to -fall. - -CASS. _Ah! what is this? Oh me! - What strange new grief is risen? - A deed of might ..._ - _An act - Of hate for love; and succour bides aloof, - Far, far away._ - -CHO. _This prophecy is dark to me...._ - -CASS. ... _’Twill come, - ‘Tis here! She lifts her hand; she launches at him - Blow following blow!_ - -CHO. _Thy speech appals me._ - -CASS. _Woe! For my hapless doom! - To fill the cup, I tell my own sad tale! - Why hast thou brought me to this place? Oh misery! - To die with thee? What else? To die!... To die!... - Paris, thy wedding hath destroyed thy house, - Yea, and thy sister!—O Scamander stream! - Our fathers drank of thee and by thy shore - I grew, I flourished. Oh unhappy I! - But now by dark Cocytus and the banks - Of Acheron, my prophecies shall sound._[19] - -The Elders begin to understand; but still the drift of her message is -only partly clear to them. They realize that she is distraught, fearing -some dreadful fate for herself; they have, too, a glimmering fear of -danger to the king. But they cannot comprehend what it may be; and the -thought of succour never dawns upon their dull old wits. They speak -gently to Cassandra; but again her message seems to tear her with its -force and urgency. - - “_No longer, like a newly married girl, - My word shall peep behind a veil, but, flashing - With panted vehemence to meet the day, - ‘Twill dash, against the shores of Light, a sorrow - Of mightier volume._“[19] - -Then, point by point, she goes with studied clarity over all the “trail -of long-past crime.” So long as this is her theme, the Elders understand -and confirm her words. But when, rising again on the wings of prophecy -and therefore to a rapt and obscure utterance, she foretells the fall of -Agamemnon and her own death, they are again at sea. She pauses for an -instant, baffled; she knows that her end is imminent, and in her despair -she casts stinging words at them for their stupidity and inaction. Never -has Apollo’s ban wrought so bitterly; and in the extremity of her -anguish she declares that she will call upon the god no longer. She -strips herself of the sacred emblems and flings them from her. - - “_Why wear I still these mockeries of my soul, - This wand, these fillets round my neck? I tear ye - Thus! Go to your destruction ere I die! - To pieces with you! Lead the way! I follow! - Enrich some other life with misery.... - I will go forward! I will dare to die! - Hail, then, thou gate of Hell!_“[19] - -She takes a few steps toward the palace; but her courage fails for a -moment. The reek of blood in her nostrils stifles her, and she recoils. -In her last words passion and strength alike fade out, giving place to a -pathetic human appeal: - - “_O strangers! friends! - I shrink not idly, like some timorous bird - Before a bush! Bear record in that day - When I am dead...._“[19] - -And the old men, as she passes slowly out of sight, wail over her what -is perhaps her most fitting epitaph: - - _Ah! what is mortal life? When prosperous, - A shadow can o’erturn it; and, when fallen, - A throw o’ the wet sponge blurs the picture out._ - THIS IS MORE PITEOUS THAN THE RUIN OF PRIDE.[19] - ------ - -Footnote 17: - - From Mr Andrew Lang’s _Helen of Troy_ (G. Bell & Sons). - -Footnote 18: - - From Professor G. Murray’s translation of the _Troades_ (George Allen - & Co. Ltd.). - -Footnote 19: - - From Professor Lewis Campbell’s translation of the _Agamemnon_ - (Clarendon Press). - - - - -_Æschylus: Io_ - - -We turn now from the Trojan legend to that of Thebes. We are still in -the realm of Tragedy; and in some respects the Theban story is more -barbarous than that of Troy. But by some means the tension is slightly -relieved, and the atmosphere is lightened by one degree. Perhaps that is -because, in the dramas which treat of this subject, the poets seem to -have gone back further into the remote past and to have steeped -themselves in the spirit of those early times. Perhaps, too, it is on -account of something wilder and more primitive inherent in the Theban -story itself. Such elements, and such a treatment by the poets, would -tend to remove the persons of the drama a step further from probability, -and would make them to that extent greater or less than human. Thus -their appeal to the emotions would not be so direct, nor so intimate. On -the other hand, the figures so presented gain in sublimity. Their -mythical origin surrounds them with a halo, through which they loom -vast, mysterious, and inaccessible. - -Such a being is Io. In the _Prometheus Bound_, the drama in which her -story is given, Æschylus has gone back for his subject literally to the -beginning of things; to the time when Zeus was young and the reign of -Chaos was not long overpast. We must be prepared then for a tale which -in its details is marvellous and incredible: for a naïve account of the -love of the supreme god for a mortal woman: of the anger of Hera, his -jealous queen: of the metamorphosis and long wanderings of the innocent -maid: and of her reward at last, when she becomes the ancestress of the -founder of Thebes, and ancestress too, in a remote generation, of -Heracles, the deliverer of Prometheus. - -It is here that we touch Io’s connexion with the Theban legend, into -which as a fact she does not otherwise enter. For her son Epaphus, -wondrously born at the touch of the finger of Zeus, had two grandsons, -Cadmus and Cilix; and a granddaughter, Europa. The well-known legend -tells how Zeus, in the shape of a bull, carried off Europa. Whereupon -her two brothers went in search of their sister and wandered many a long -day. They did not recover her, however, and at length gave up the -search. Cilix settled down in a country which was called Cilicia after -him; and Cadmus, instructed by the oracle at Delphi, followed a straying -cow into Bœotia. On the spot where the animal should happen to lie down -he was commanded to found his city. But his task proved to be no light -one. For there was a dragon to be overcome; and a weird army, sprung -from the earth where the dragon’s teeth were sown, had to be vanquished -in battle before Cadmus could begin his work of founding the city of -Thebes. - -This event, as we see, is only remotely connected with Io, although the -connexion is precise and clear. In point of time, if chronology is the -least use in such a case, it is several generations nearer to us than -she is. Yet we have only to cast one glance at the story of Cadmus to -see at once its youthful element of marvel. Its wonders are so crude as -almost to raise a smile—the half amused, half tender smile with which we -turn over in our hand some grotesque plaything of our childhood. It is -indeed only the humorous aspect of these old stories which seizes us -when we look back at them from a detached standpoint, and with minds -bent to the critical attitude. But that was not the poet’s attitude; -not, at least, when he was making poetry. Doubtless there must have been -moments when the Comic Spirit rebelled, since even poets do not live -alone by the emotions. But when tragedy first entered life’s deep waters -its captains bound the mischievous laughing spirit securely under -hatches. It could be of no service in such a stern battle with the -elements. - -So we find that the tragic poets (except perhaps Euripides occasionally) -treat these strange old stories in what is called ‘the grand manner.’ Do -not be disturbed by something stiff and formal in the expression. Like -all definitions, it is smaller and harder than the thing it tries to -define. For the poet has not the least intention of being ‘grand,’ and -is as far as possible removed from any conscious ‘manner.’ On the -contrary, it is true as a rule that the greater he is, the simpler his -thought and expression are. He comes to these old themes with the eye -and the heart of a child as well as the brain of a great genius; and the -spirit of poetry, with all the knowledge of all the ages, utters its -message through his lips in limpid song. Matters of probability and -questions of logic, which seem so important to the mere intellect, bow -their chastened heads before him. The whole scheme of values is changed, -and that which appeared to the arrogant intellect as wild and ludicrous -is perceived by the poet full of strange beauty and significance. - -In this way Sophocles approached the Theban legend, as we shall see when -we come to Jocasta and Antigone, presently. In this way, too, Æschylus -gave us the story of Io in his _Prometheus Bound_. Just when Io is -supposed to have lived we do not know. She is said to have been the -daughter of Inachus; and she was a priestess of Hera in Argos. But -Æchylus has made her coeval with the Titans. In this poem, therefore, -she is a denizen of that early world which saw the overthrow of Cronos -from the throne of heaven, and the rise of his son Zeus. All the Titans -save one had opposed the new god when he rose in rebellion against the -primeval powers. But Prometheus, far-seeing from the first, and knowing -that Zeus must conquer, lent him aid. It was a long and bitter struggle -in the youth of the world. But at last Cronos and the Titans who had -opposed him were hurled by Zeus into Tartarus—“under the misty -darkness ... in a dank place, at the verge of the earth.” Typhon was -buried under Etna; and Atlas, far in the West, was bowed beneath the -pillar of the heavens, “where night and day meet and greet one another, -as they pass the great threshold of bronze.” - -All now seemed calm and fair for the establishment of the new Hierarchy. -Too calm and fair; for Zeus, with all his enemies subdued and possessing -absolute power, soon grew tyrannical. With leisure now from Olympian -warfare, he looked down upon the earth and the feeble race of men. It -seemed to him a contemptible thing, struggling weakly against pitiless -forces and groping its way, by minute degrees that were imperceptible -from his lofty height, toward a larger and a better state. It was a mean -and futile and impotent race, he pondered. Surely it would be better to -wipe it out of existence altogether, than let it continue to blot the -face of the fair world. - -So concluded the youthful ruler of Olympus, in his haughty strength. But -Prometheus knew mankind better than Zeus. The hills and valleys of earth -were his kin, dear and familiar to him; and he had come to love the -imperfect human soul that had just managed to get itself born in those -rude cave-men. He saw the violent act that the Lord of Olympus was -planning in his mind; and resolved to save humanity. So, as the old poet -Hesiod says in his _Works and Days_, “he stole fire for men from Zeus -the Counsellor in a hollow fennel stalk, what time the Hurler of the -Thunder knew not.” But the boon to man meant sheer disaster to himself, -as he knew when he filched it from Olympus. The purpose of Zeus could -not be thwarted with impunity. Prometheus was condemned to age-long -punishment, chained to a rock on an icy mountain top until such time as -a deliverer should come, and an immortal being could be found willing to -give up life for him. The punishment of Prometheus is the subject of the -present drama. It is believed to have been the middle play of a trilogy, -of which the last was the _Prometheus Unbound_, and the first probably -related the bringing of fire to earth. The _Prometheus Bound_ is not -dramatic in the sense that the _Agamemnon_ and the _Choephorœ_ are. -There is hardly any action in it, for the suffering Titan continues -chained to his rock throughout the poem. From the nature of the theme, -too, the characters are too colossal and remote to make an intimate -appeal to us. Yet the drama is charged with the deepest emotion, -transcending the pity or fear of common experience. If it does not start -into life before our eyes as an actual conflict, that is because it is -rooted in a deeper and more crucial struggle between cosmic forces. And -if the persons of the drama are unapproachable and unfamiliar, it is -from the very reason of their sublimity. We see the protagonist first as -he is being riveted to the rocky wall by the god Hephæstus. The Fire-god -reluctantly performs the task, bidden to it roughly by Force, who is -invested for the moment with the strength of Zeus, but without his -dignity. Hephæstus is indignant at the sentence on his kinsman, the -titan, and declares that he has no heart to chain him in this stormy -mountain region, merely because of his beneficent help to man. But Force -is inexorable: he urges on the work until every limb of the titan is -secured, and an adamantine wedge is driven through his breast. When all -is accomplished, Prometheus is left alone; and then for the first time -he breaks silence. He invokes the elements that are his kindred: the -sky, the winds, the rivers, the smiling sea, the sun, the great -earth-mother. - - “_See me tormented by the gods, a god! - Behold me, what agony - Through the measureless course of the ages - Racked, I shall suffer; - I by the upstart Ruler in heaven - To captivity doomed and outrage. - Woe, woe is me!... - ... Blessings, that on man - I lavished, have involved me in this fate, - And for that in a hollow fennel stalk - I sought and stored and stole the fount of flame, - Whence men all arts have learned, a potent help._“[1] - -While Prometheus is speaking, there gather softly round him the gentle -sea-nymphs who are to be the chorus of the drama. They question him -tenderly, in words that fall like balm, and elicit all his story. It is -pitiable, they say, and they marvel at the penalty which Zeus imposes on -so kind a creature. - -Presently Oceanus himself, god of the dreadful river that circles the -world, approaches in his chariot. He is old and grave and prudent. The -action of Prometheus seems to him rash and daring: his opposition to -Zeus mere pride. He advises the titan to yield, since it is expedient to -bow to the superior power. But Prometheus fiercely rejects such timid -counsel. Nothing shall shake his resistance to the tyrant, and Oceanus -may spare his breath. Let him go save himself: as for Prometheus, he -will endure until it shall please Zeus to relent. - -Hot words pass. Oceanus tries in vain to teach prudence to the high -heart of the titan, and departs angrily. Then the sea-nymphs sing a -sweet song of pity; and Prometheus, touched to a softer mood, begs them -not to think him hard and proud. Only, the thought of his wrongs is -intolerable, received at the hand of one whom he himself had helped to -place upon the throne of Olympus. And what had been his crime? None. His -hands are clean: his integrity absolute. His sufferings are an amazing -injustice: the price of beneficent deeds to humanity that he tells over -to the wondering maids. - - “_I will recount you, how, mere babes before, - With reason I endowed them and with mind ... - Who, firstly, seeing, knew not what they saw, - And hearing did not hear; confusedly passed - Their life-days, lingeringly, like shapes in dreams, - Without an aim; and neither sunward homes, - Brick-woven, nor skill of carpentry, they knew; - But lived, like small ants shaken with a breath, - In sunless caves a burrowing buried life: - ... The hidden lore - Of rising stars and setting I unveiled. - I taught them Number, first of sciences; - I framed the written symbols into speech, - Art all-recording, mother of the Muse: - I first put harness on dumb patient beasts ... - That they might lighten men of heavy toil, - I taught to draw the car and love the rein - Horses, crown of the luxury of wealth. - And who but I invented the white-winged - Sea-roving chariot of the mariner?_ - - “_For mortals such contrivances I found, - But for myself alas no wit have I, - Whereby to rid me of my present pain._”[20] - -So he continues to narrate all that he had achieved for the welfare of -man: how he had taught him Medicine, Prophecy and Augury; and had -brought to light the treasure of precious metals that lay hidden within -the earth. Indeed, as the long recital falls from his lips, we know that -the poet has symbolized in him all the great civilizing influences on -mankind. - -But the sea-nymphs, though they sympathize with his sorrow, cannot rise -to the height of his thought. To them mankind is a “fleeting, dream-like -race,” unworthy of the sacrifice that he has made. They chide him -gently. Why has he dared the wrath of Zeus, and why will he bear the -weary ages of torture for such a people? The beauty of the lyric casts a -spell upon us. The thought of the long-drawn agony, endured from century -to century, makes us waver. Might he not have been misguided? Was Zeus -right, perhaps? And would not the titan be wise to make peace with so -powerful a ruler? - -Thus the softer mood of the sea-maidens wins upon us. Viewed through it, -the resistance of Prometheus begins to look like stubborn self-will; and -the decree of Zeus a righteous chastisement. But just as the feeling is -gathering strength an episode occurs which reverses the current of -emotion. For there rushes suddenly on the desolate scene a strange wild -creature, half woman and half beast. Under the curling heifer’s horns -there is a fair white brow; and below the brow sweet human eyes, -distraught with fear and pain. This is Io, the maid beloved by Zeus. -Cast out of her home by the god’s command, she has been chased from the -society of her kind, and her fair woman form has been partly changed to -bestial shape. For many a weary league she has been goaded onward by the -gadfly of Hera; and even now she is haunted by the wraith of Argus, the -huntsman of the hundred eyes whom the angry goddess had set to watch -her. Good and beautiful she had been, her serene life gladly given to -the service of Hera in an Argive temple. Yet now she is doomed to wander -restlessly over sea and land, through sun and storm, and by many an -unknown lonely path, without apparent aim and for no apparent cause. As -her feet stumble up the mountain side and she stands before Prometheus, -innocent and mercilessly persecuted, we feel that the moment is crowded -with all the elements of tragedy. If we had wavered before, standing on -that ridge of neutral ground where the cool airs of reason calm the -passions; if the poet meant that we should waver for a moment, giving us -in his unifying purpose some perception of the higher power as it would -ultimately justify itself; he plunges us now into the arena again, with -every emotion clamant to defend these victims of tyranny. - -As they confront each other, Io speaks, forgetting her own griefs for -the moment in contemplation of the suffering titan. - - “_What land, what people is here? - Whom shall I say that I see, - Rock-pinioned yonder, - Storm-buffeted? - To penance of a living death - What crime hath doomed thee? - Tell me, thou luckless one, - Where have I wandered?_ - - “_Ah me, alas, unhappy! - Frenzied again as by the gadfly’s sting, - The fatal herdsman with the myriad eyes, - The giant Argus, I behold ... - Me he pursues, the unhappy, - Over sandy leagues of the waste seashore.... - Whither alas, ah woe is me - When shall my wandering end?_ - - “_What, O what was the sin in me, - O son of Cronos, that thou didst find? - Why hast thou doomed me thus to suffer - By the gadfly’s goad still onward driven, - Weary of fleeing, distraught with dread?... - Enough I have wandered— - Wandered afar till my strength is spent; - And still from my doom escape is none. - Dost thou mark my speech? - The hornèd maiden hearest thou?_“[20] - -Prometheus does indeed hear and know her, he says, the poor frenzied -daughter of Inachus, whom Zeus loves. As he speaks her father’s name, Io -catches at it eagerly. Perhaps this may be a friend. - -IO. _Who told thee of my sire? - Tell me, the sufferer—who art thou, - That thou hast named aright - One wretched as thyself?..._ - -PROM. _This is Prometheus, who gave fire to men._ - -IO. _Of all our human kind, proved helper thou, - Ill-starred Prometheus—what hath earned thee this?_[20] - -In rapid interchange of question and answer, the cause of the quarrel, -and its consequence, are related to Io; and then, because she knows that -Prometheus can foresee the future, she begs him to tell her what is in -store for herself. The titan warns her that the knowledge can only bring -fresh pain; and for awhile the prophecy is delayed, as Io, at the -petition of the nymphs, tells her own strange story. - -IO. _Your will is law to me; I must obey. - ... Albeit I blush to tell. - Haunting my virgin chamber, night by night, - Came visions to beguile me while I slept - With fair smooth words: “O maiden highly blest, - Be maiden now no more; to whom ‘tis given - To mate thee with the Highest; thy beauty’s shaft - Glows in the heart of Zeus, and for his bride - He claims thee.”_[20] - -Her father Inachus sent anxious messages to the oracles at Delphi and -Dodona to inquire what this persistent vision might mean. At first -ambiguous answers came. - - _But at the last to Inachus there came - A peremptory word, with mandate clear, - To cast me from my country and my home, - At the world’s end a wanderer far from men; - And, if he would not, swift from Zeus should come - A fiery bolt that should consume his race._[20] - -With sorrowful heart, Inachus obeyed the oracular command, constrained -thereto by Zeus. Io was driven out to the pastures of her father’s -herds. - - _Then was my feature changed, my reason fled: - Wearing these horns ye see, with frenzied hounds, - Pricked and tormented by the gadfly’s sting, - To fair Kerchneia’s stream and Lerna’s shore - I hasted. And upon my traces still, - Of rage unslaked, with myriad eyes agaze, - The earth-born huntsman Argus followed hard. - Him unawares a sudden death o’ertook, - And reft him of his life. From land to land, - Heaven’s scourge, the unsleeping gadfly, drives me still. - My tale is told. What time has yet in store - For me to suffer, tell me if thou canst: - Not pitying think with lies to comfort me: - False words I count of maladies the worst._[20] - -Io is asking more than she knows, and the prophecy that Prometheus will -make to her is more wonderful than she could ever dream. In careful -detail, and so impressively that she must remember every word, he -indicates the first part of her wanderings. She must turn her face -eastward, and faring through Scythia, pass along the sea-coast, avoiding -the fierce Chalybes. Then on wearily to the range of the Caucasus, which -she must ascend to the very summit; and following afterward a southward -road, she will come to the land of the Amazons and down to the sea which -separates the continents. Here she must boldly ford the strait, which in -later times will be called Bosphorus because she, the cow-maiden, -crossed it; and leaving Europe behind, she will tread on Asian soil. - -PROM. _... Deem ye not - That this proud lord of heaven on great and small - Tramples alike? For this poor mortal maid, - Enamoured of her love, his godhead dooms - To wander thus. Thy most imperious wooer, - Maiden, thou well mayst rue. What I have told, - Deem that the prelude hardly hast thou heard._ - -IO. _Woe’s me, alas, alas!... - What boots it then to live? Were it not better - From this hard rock to fling myself outright, - That dashed to earth I might of all my toil - Have riddance? Better surely once to die. - Than all my days to be afflicted thus._[20] - -But Prometheus, looking further still into the future, sees some hope -for her, as he contrasts her fate with his. However great her -affliction, it must end some day; he can even foretell just what the -issue will be, and when. But for him, suffering must continue until Zeus -is hurled from his throne. - -IO. _Shall Zeus indeed be downcast from his throne?_ - -PROM. _To see that day methinks thou wouldst rejoice._ - -IO. _How could I but rejoice, whom he has wronged?_[20] - -She begs for a revelation of the fate of Zeus; and the titan tells -briefly of a certain marriage that the god is contemplating, which must -bring him ruin if Prometheus will not interpose. - -IO. _Who then shall loose thee in despite of Zeus?_ - -PROM. _One of thine own descendants he shall be._ - -IO. _How? shall a child of mine deliver thee?_ - -PROM. _Ten generations hence, and three beside._ - -IO. _Now hard to read the prophecy becomes._[20] - -Io’s mind cannot take so great a leap forward; and Prometheus, resuming -the course of her wanderings in Asia, gradually leads up to the climax -of her story. Having crossed the strait, she is again to bend her steps -eastward. Through the land of the Gorgons she must go, and of the -Griffins, and of Phorcy’s daughters, the three hags with one eye and one -tooth between them. On the golden shores of Pluto she will see an army -of one-eyed horsemen, whom she must carefully avoid; and toiling onward -still, she must follow the course of the river Ethiopia far up to its -very source. Then, at Canopus, a town upon the shores of distant Nile, -she will find rest. - -So is completed the tale of Io’s wanderings. And now, before Prometheus -reveals the strangest thing of all, he would convince her that he is -speaking truth indeed. So he recalls to her mind a marvel that had -happened on her way thither, but which she had not spoken when she -related her story. - -PROM. _To the Molossian plains when thou hadst come,... - And to Dodona’s rock-ridge, to the seat - And sacred oracle of Thesprotian Zeus, - Famed for its marvel of the talking oaks, - That with clear voice and nowise doubtfully - Hailed thee (sounds this familiar to thine ears?) - The glorious bride of Zeus in days to come._[20] - -The weird music of the oaks came back to her as the titan spoke, phrased -intelligibly now. It had haunted all her journey, but confusedly, -hinting at something she could not clearly understand, and dared not -name. But in the words of Prometheus its meaning pealed. Becoming in -that far Eastern country the bride of the ruler of Olympus, she would -found a splendid race. From her the Danaans would spring, one root of -that Hellenic people which should civilize the Western world. She would -give a line of kings to the Argive throne. But greater and more blessed -than all, from her should come the supreme Greek hero Heracles, destined -to release this suffering titan from his misery. - -As she muses on the wonder of it, Prometheus takes up again the thread -of his prophecy. In that rich land which borders on the Nile she may at -last stay her weary feet. - - “_There shall the hand of Zeus, with soft caress - Upon thee laid, restore thee to thy mind: - And thou shalt bear, named of his fruitful touch, - A son, swart Epaphus, whom all that land, - By the broad Nile-stream watered, shall enrich...._“[20] - -From Io’s son Epaphus should descend, generations afterward, a princess. - - “_’The royal line of Argos springs from her. - Time fails to tell the story to its close: - But of her strain one valiant shall be born, - And famous with the bow; he from these ills - Shall loose me.’ Thus the titaness, my mother, - Primeval Themis, prophesied to me, - But of the ways and means too long it were - To tell thee, and it profits not to know._“[20] - -To immortal eyes, seeing the end in the beginning, it was a glorious -destiny; one to compensate perhaps, if not to justify, all that she had -endured. But Io is only a mortal maid. The vision of the future opens -before her in one radiant moment, and then all is dark again, and -nothing remains but her inexplicable pain. Even before Prometheus has -finished speaking the cloud had fallen upon her mind again. - - “_Alas! Woe worth the day! - Again a thrill, a spasm of frenzy - Shoots through me, soul-distracting: - The unforged goad of the gadfly - Stings me afresh; and my seated heart - Knocks at my ribs for fear, - My sight swims, and my senses reel; - And a frantic gust of madness sweeps me - Wide of the course...._”[20] - -Tormented and distracted, she rushes from the scene as wildly as she had -come; but as the titan and the sea-nymphs sadly watch her go, they see -that her face is set now toward the East. - ------ - -Footnote 20: - - From Mr Robert Whitelaw’s translation of the _Prometheus_ (Clarendon - Press, 1s. net). - - - - -_Sophocles: Jocasta_ - - -Jocasta, in _Œdipus the King_ of Sophocles, is a very real woman. -Moreover, though she is a splendidly dramatic figure, she is not heroic -in anything save her death. True, she is a queen, deriving royalty -through several generations from Cadmus himself; and possessing the -throne of Thebes so surely that when the king her husband died she had -perforce to marry with his successor in order to establish him in the -kingship. But despite her special royalty, which makes her, as Professor -Murray has pointed out, like one of the consecrated queens of early -times: despite the extreme deference which is paid to her, the weight -that attaches to her counsel, and the sense of brooding fate that clings -about her, she is before all an appealing and convincing human creature. - -This vivid reality is a new fact in our study of Greek heroines, and the -reason for it is that we have come now to the Drama of Sophocles. We -have seen, so far, the women of Homer and those of Æschylus; and we have -observed one or two characteristics which distinguish them. - -The Homeric women are gracious and beautiful, glowing as it were with -romantic charm. With one notable exception, Penelope, they appear rarely -in the movement of the epic; and then only to form the central figure in -a picturesque group. Reality has never touched them. Generous as their -emotions are, the extremes of passion have not for an instant distorted -their loveliness. When they are called upon to act, they seem always to -move with grace and gentleness; and even in their sorrow they are -serene. If they share in the great stern things of life, its aspiration -and its struggle, they give no sign of the penalty exacted. They are -always young, fresh and fair; except again Penelope, and she has only -gained from age, not lost. A wise maturity has been added to her early -charms. And thus these Homeric women, with their delicate infrangible -bloom, seem to belong to a region just over the boundary-line of our -common humanity. - -The women of Æschylus are much greater figures. Clytemnestra is -colossal: Cassandra, Electra and Io are all conceived majestically. -Unlike the Epic women, they are capable of strenuous action: strong -passions sway them, and they are much concerned with the great issues of -life. We know little or nothing about their appearance, and it does not -seem to matter. They do not live in our mental vision pictorially, in -soft, warm tints; but remotely grand, they appeal to a more austere -sense of wonder, awe and reverence. Surrounded by an atmosphere of myth, -and sharing in the elevation of the poet’s spirit, they seem to be -creatures of an older and a bigger world. - -There is indeed one woman in the Æschylean Drama, Orestes’ nurse, who is -of ordinary stature and might belong to any age. But she is of minor -importance in the story, and does not move on the heroic plane. She is -therefore beyond the range of that sublimating power of the poetic -spirit which magnified the heroes and heroines to immense proportions. -And as she stands in the clear daylight outside the enchanted circle she -is just an old grey woman taken straight out of common life. But for -that very reason there is a hearty, homely breath about her which is -very refreshing. She is but a nurse: she is quaint and querulous in her -talk, inept, wordy and reminiscent; and peevishly loyal. Yet in her very -weakness and foolishness she is precious, for is she not a flash from -the eyes of the Comic Spirit, naïvely unconscious of its august -surroundings? We feel that we can actually see and hear her, as she -gabbles about Orestes’ babyhood and how she tended him; being nurse, -cook, foster-mother and washerwoman all combined. But she is unique -among Æschylean women, and when we turn to look again on the figures of -his heroines, a thought is suggested by the extreme contrast. Here is -creative genius so strong that it has evoked on the one hand the -grandeur of a Clytemnestra; and on the other, the biting reality of this -old slave. But there does not seem to have been an equivalent artistic -power which, controlling the fervid idealism and combining it with his -keen insight, would have produced types more fully and completely human. - -Such types we find first when we come to the Drama of Sophocles. With -Æschylus the ruling passion had been spiritual fervour. In Sophocles the -artist reigned paramount. All the advance which his drama made, in plot, -incident and character-building, was in the direction of a more perfect -art. And although there was some inevitable loss—as for instance the -curtailment of the lyrics by modifying the part of the Chorus; and their -lower poetic flight—on the whole the gain is very great. In the matter -of characterization, with which we are chiefly concerned, the change is -one which brings us out of the region of demi-gods into the world of men -and women. - -When we say that the persons of Sophocles’s drama are real people, that -is not to say that they are ‘realistic’ in the narrow sense of the word -which conveys only what is average and actual. But it does mean that -with all their splendour and dignity and fine achievement they are -subject to our common humanity. They are not immune from the defects of -their virtues. The passions which have led them to great deeds are -potent agents of their downfall. It is the flaw within which helps to -betray them. - -For this reason, and also because the poet shows his characters moving -in intimate human relationships, the women of Sophocles are intensely -living creatures. Electra in her conflict with Chrysothomis, and -Antigone with Ismene, are of the stuff of life; and the situations thus -created are pure drama. Here two great natures clash. Closely bound by -the ties of blood and affection, but at the opposite poles of -temperament, the struggle between them is all the more bitter from the -intimacy of their relationship. Both claim our esteem and both are -sincerely confident in the purity of their intentions. But each -mistrusts the other, believing her to be fatally misguided or wilfully -blind. It is by this faculty of seeing all sides of an issue, or, as -Matthew Arnold expressed it, “to see life steadily and see it whole,” -that Sophocles has heightened and deepened the dramatic values of a -story. Out of that, too, he has made Jocasta, with all her state and -despite the unnatural horror with which she is touched, a pitiable -figure. - -Here again two noble natures, near and very dear to each other, are -brought into conflict. In this case, however, there is an added element -of tragic irony which increases the dramatic power threefold. For we -know, as we watch the tender comradeship of Œdipus and Jocasta, that -there is this sinister thing in the background, ready to flame out at -any instant and make them loathsome in each other’s eyes. And the moment -when the shameful truth is revealed, literally dragged to light by -Œdipus to his own undoing, is perhaps the most awful in Greek tragedy. - -The story belongs to the Theban cycle, of which we have already heard. -It is older than Homer, who calls Jocasta _Epicasta_; and it had many -variants. In the Eleventh Book of the _Odyssey_ there is the quaint -epitome of it which the hero gives when he is describing his visit to -the World of the Dead. Among the shades which throng there he sees -Jocasta. - - “_And then beheld I Epicasta fair, - Oedipus’ mother, her who unaware - Did a strange deed through ignorance of mind, - To intermarry with the son she bare._ - - “_And he his mother wedded, having slain - His father: and these things the Gods made plain - To all men suddenly; then he among - The folk Cadmean held a troublous reign,_ - - “_In lovely Thebes, according to the fate - By purpose of the Gods predestinate - For evil: but she went her way alone - To the strong Warder of the darkling gate._“[21] - -This version agrees in the main with that of Sophocles, and points to -the antiquity of the story. Even in those early times the fate of -Jocasta and Œdipus was part of an ancient myth. Like the story of Io, -remote ancestress of the founder of their city, it is a tale of wrong -wrought upon mortals by a god. Perhaps it is not so primitive as the Io -legend. There is nothing in it quite so naïve as the idea of the -heifer-maiden loved by the supreme god and mercilessly hunted by his -jealous queen. The Olympian hierarchy is now established, with its -system of greater and lesser gods, and Zeus at their head has grown, in -accordance with the theory of Æschylus, wiser with age. Apollo is now -the persecutor. And with the development in the divine order goes a -corresponding complexity in the human elements of the story. The actors -in it are the instruments of their own suffering. The inimical power is -not now frank tyranny. Its victims even believe it to be friendly, or at -least placable; and it is by their own deeds that the decree against -them is brought to pass. Yet this apparent advance still leaves the -story in a dark past, far behind the poets. And there are some aspects -of it—the curse fulfilled by Œdipus of parricide and incest; and the -stark unreason with which it was regarded—which make us feel that the -primitive age has only just given place to one of gross superstition. - -The essence of the tragedy lies in the double fact of Apollo’s hostility -to Œdipus and Jocasta and their ignorance of it. When Laius and Jocasta -were young upon the throne of Thebes they prayed to Apollo to give them -a son. The oracle at Delphi replied to Laius, “I will give thee a son, -but it is doomed that thou leave the sunlight by the hands of thy -child.” Thus the decree was launched. - -Laius and Jocasta trembled at the doom, and considered how it might be -averted. When their son was born, they took a cruel and desperate means -to save its father’s life. Three days after his birth they handed over -the babe to a herdsman, to be exposed on Mt. Kithairon. And first they -pierced his heels, to ensure his death. So Jocasta, out of love for her -husband and fear of the oracle, brought herself to a deed which poisoned -all her life. Yet it was of no avail against fate. For the man who took -her babe had pity on it; and meeting a friendly herdsman who was in the -service of Polybus, king of Corinth, he gave the child to him. Polybus -and his queen Merope were childless; and the herdsman believed that they -would welcome the little foundling. He was not mistaken: calling him -Œdipus from his swelled feet, they brought him up as their son. - -All went well until the boy had grown into manhood. Then one day a young -companion, heated with wine, flung out a taunt about his birth. Œdipus, -fully believing himself to be the son of Polybus and Merope, went to -them with the story. They chastised the offender, but their replies to -Œdipus’ questions left a doubt of his parentage rankling in his mind. He -determined to satisfy himself once for all by an appeal to Apollo; and -he travelled to Delphi to inquire of the oracle in person. The reply was -terrible, and, unlike most oracular utterances, seemed only too clear. -He was doomed, it said, to slay his father and marry with his mother. -But the most vital point, the names of his parents, was not revealed; -and Œdipus, still believing them to be Polybus and Merope, vowed never -again to set foot in Corinth while they were living. So he hoped to -avoid his doom; and he set out alone, along the road to Bœotia, and -Thebes. - -Now it happened that just about that time Thebes was afflicted by a -strange monster. It was the Sphinx, sent by Hera to prey upon the city. -Sitting upon a neighbouring hill, she claimed the life of every man who -could not read her riddle—“What is the creature which is two-footed, -three-footed and four-footed; and weakest when it has most feet?” No one -could find the answer; and Thebes daily paid the toll of life to the -monster. The people were in despair, when Laius the king set out to seek -counsel at Delphi. Thus the unknown father and son were hourly -approaching each other from east and west. Laius was accompanied by only -four attendants. When his party came to a narrow pass in Phokis, at a -place where three roads met, a young man appeared in the path before -them. The slaves of Laius were insolent, and the young man’s blood was -hot. A quarrel ensued. Three of the attendants were struck down; and -Laius himself, aiming at the stranger from his chariot, was killed by a -single blow. Œdipus had unwittingly slain his father; and the first part -of the curse had fallen. - -The fourth attendant of Laius, the very man who had given away Jocasta’s -babe years before to the Corinthian herdsman, fled for his life. Arrived -at Thebes, he reported the death of the king. But he feared to tell the -whole truth: he dared not admit that he and his fellows had been -overcome by one man; and he gave out that Laius had been slain by a band -of robbers. - -Meantime, Œdipus continued his wanderings; and some time afterward he -came to Thebes. He found the city still harassed by the Sphinx, who -seized her victims daily from among the Theban people. He learned too -that their king had been killed by robbers whilst on a journey; and that -the old prophet Tiresias, who should have been able to advise the people -at such a crisis, was helpless. The young stranger seized his -opportunity. He faced the Sphinx and solved her riddle, triumphantly -naming the creature of her question to be Man. Whereupon she flung -herself down from the hill on which she was stationed; and the people of -Thebes at last had rest from their tormentor. They hailed Œdipus with -joy; and in their gratitude they named him king in succession to Laius. - -But the new king could not put aside the queen who already occupied the -throne. Indeed, by a custom of those old times, he could not rightly -become the king unless she married him. He had proved himself to the -Theban people brave and wise, a ruler to be desired. Consideration for -her people inclined Jocasta to him, and besides, he seemed to her just -and kind. But more than all, there hung about him, in his carriage or -his manner, something which brought a fleeting memory of Laius, and -warmed her heart to him. So she consented that he should be her husband. - -The curse on Œdipus was now complete. In perfect innocence, and though -he had striven to keep his hands clean from the horror, he had slain his -father and married with his mother. Yet no shadow of the truth fell on -him. There were in Thebes two persons to whom it was known, or partly -known. One was that slave born in Laius’s household who had given the -infant prince to the herdsman from Corinth; and who had fled for his -life when his master was killed at the cross-roads in Phokis. The other -was the blind old prophet Tiresias. But neither spoke of what they knew. -The slave kept silence from loyalty; and coming to the queen soon after -her marriage, he besought her earnestly to send him back to serve in -outland parts. Tiresias was merely prudent; and thought it best to bide -the time of the god. - -For many years no sign came. Jocasta and Œdipus, loving each other and -beloved by their people, reigned happily in Thebes; Creon, Jocasta’s -brother, sharing equally in the honour which was paid to them. Four -children were born to the king and queen: two sons, named Eteocles and -Polynices; and two daughters, Antigone and Ismene. Life flowed so -smoothly now that painful memories grew faint. Œdipus had almost -forgotten the menace that rang in his ears at Delphi twelve years -before; and Jocasta, though she would never forget that early act of -cruelty, was not haunted so persistently now by the thought of her -first-born. It seemed almost that Apollo had relented; that having -fulfilled the letter of the doom, he had taken pity on the victims, and -would leave them in happy ignorance. But he, too, was only waiting for a -fitting moment—till Thebes should be most flourishing and Œdipus should -have reached the top of fame. Then the blow fell. A sudden plague was -sent upon the city, which ravaged all life like a blight. Flocks -sickened; the harvest failed; and human creatures died in thousands, -while Œdipus looked on, sore at heart for their misery, but powerless to -help. - -At this point of the story, Sophocles has opened the _Œdipus, King of -Thebes_. The scene is before the royal palace, where a crowd of -suppliants has gathered to implore the aid of the king. Œdipus comes out -in person to receive them, and listens patiently while the old priest -petitions him on their behalf. They have pathetic faith in him. There -can be no doubt that he has power to succour them, for did he not of old -save Thebes from the Sphinx? Perhaps too there is a touch of deeper -meaning in their act, a hint of that duty laid on early kings, to die -for their people in case of need. They come to lay on him the burden of -the whole land’s sorrow. Œdipus answers them pityingly. - - “_My poor, poor children! Surely long ago - I have read your trouble. Stricken, well I know, - Ye all are, stricken sore: yet verily - Not one so stricken to the heart as I._“[22] - -[Illustration: - - JOCASTA - - _Gertrude Demain Hammond, R.I._ -] - -There has appeared to him only one hope; and days before he had grasped -at it. He had sent Creon to Apollo’s House in Delphi, to inquire of the -god what great thing the king must do to save his people. When the -answer comes, he vows that he will not flinch. Whatever task Apollo may -command, no matter how bitter, it shall be performed. - -Even while Œdipus speaks shouts are heard announcing Creon’s return; and -presently he delivers before them all the answer of the god. - - “_Thus saith - Phoebus, our Lord and Seer, in clear command: - ‘An unclean thing there is, hid in our land, - Eating the soil thereof: this ye shall cast - Out, and not foster till all help be past’._“[22] - -But what is the unclean thing that is polluting the city? Œdipus does -not know that it is himself; and he questions Creon until the oracular -command seems clear to him—to hunt out and banish the murderers of -Laius. The task seems hopeless. How is it possible, after all these -years, to find the men who slew the king? But the oracle has said -explicitly that it must be done; that they are still alive within the -city; and Œdipus unhesitatingly takes the task upon him. - -An assembly of the people is commanded, and Œdipus publicly makes known -to them his purpose of tracking the murderers. In a great speech, full -of tragic irony, he claims their help in his search. They are Thebans -born; but he, a stranger to their town in those days when Laius was -killed, had never seen the king. It is for them to seek and render up -the men who murdered him. He calls upon them solemnly to reveal what -they may know. They need not fear that harm will come to them, for he -will promise to befriend the man who does this service to the State. He -pauses. But there is of course no answer. Again he appeals to them, -growing indignant now, because he believes that they are wilfully -shielding the guilty. Will they not speak out, and save their city? Then -he will make a decree against them. For those who refuse to denounce the -murderers, they shall be outcast and shelterless, and none shall succour -them in living or in dying. For those who will not lend him their active -aid in his search, Nature herself shall frown upon them and deny them -every blessing; whilst on the man himself who slew the king, the most -awful curse shall fall. - - “_Even as his soul - Is foul within him let his days be foul, - And life unfriended grind him till he die. - More: if he ever tread my hearth and I - Know it, be every curse upon my head - That I have spoke this day._”[22] - -As Œdipus, unconscious of what he is doing, invokes this terrible curse -upon himself, a blind old man is slowly led in. He is the prophet -Tiresias, for whom Œdipus has sent at the suggestion of Creon. He is the -only mortal being who knows all the truth; and under peril of the ban -that Œdipus has just proclaimed: in virtue of his office, he must needs -proclaim it. How will he strike the blow at the great good king? By his -sacred calling, and his great age, and his knowledge of the mesh of fate -in which Œdipus has been caught, he should be merciful. But as we watch -him we have strange doubts. It is not so much that he is unshorn, ragged -and unclean; we have learned to be familiar with such things in these -hermit-seers of an early age. But there is something in the lowering -brow and twitching mouth that hints of an untamed soul in the unkempt -body; and knowing the passionate heart of Œdipus himself, we tremble for -the issue. - -At first it would seem that our fears are groundless. Œdipus, who is -calmer now, greets the prophet with profound respect; and laying bare -the oracle, he begs most humbly for Tiresias’s help. - -The prophet is calm too, awed by the thought of all that is impending. -He answers hesitatingly at first, almost with a touch of pity and -regret. He does know who is the murderer of Laius, but—he dare not, he -cannot tell. Such a reply could only have one effect upon the tremendous -anxiety of the king. Rendered helpless by his ignorance, his own keen -wit cannot avail him one iota. He has perforce to ask and ask of these -ineffectual creatures around him, only to be thrown back baffled again -and again. For one moment he puts a curb upon his rising anger, as he -tells Tiresias that his answer is not kind; and casting away all pride -and dignity, he kneels at the prophet’s feet. But when in sullen words -which give no light Tiresias doggedly replies that he will not speak, -Œdipus’s wrath leaps out at him. Surely this man who knows God’s truth -and will not declare it is no prophet, but a devil. And is it not -probable therefore that he himself has had some hand in the murder of -Laius? As the words fall, there is a sudden and malign change in -Tiresias; and the dreadful truth which could not be won from him by -entreaty, flashes out pitilessly in anger. - - “_So?—I command thee by thine own word’s power, - To stand accurst, and never from this hour - Speak word to me, nor yet to those who ring - Thy throne._ Thou art thyself the unclean thing.”[22] - -But such a wild utterance, smiting through a tempest of passion, carries -no shade of conviction to Œdipus. It is but a horrible insult, which -this old man, because he is feeble, thinks he may launch with impunity. -Not until it has been thrice repeated does the full significance of it -break upon him. Then a suspicion flashes into his mind. This is -doubtless some conspiracy against him, prompted by Creon, the brother of -his queen, to gain the throne. The foolish improbability of such a plot -will not bear reflection for a moment; but the king’s impulsive nature -is goaded by rage and mistrust. He turns fiercely upon Tiresias and -roundly charges him with conspiring against his life. - -The prophet retorts with an emphatic denial, but he is not content to -stop there. In cold malignance, he repeats his foul accusation against -the king, seeming to gloat over every word of the hideous charge and the -penalty which his prophetic vision sees that the gods will exact from -Œdipus— - - “_Blind, who once had seeing eyes, - Beggared, who once had riches, in strange guise, - His staff groping before him, he shall crawl - O’er unknown earth._“[22] - -To the infuriated king this frightful menace, like the crimes of which -he is accused, seems to be the mere raving of madness; and he deigns no -answer. The old man is led away; Œdipus enters the palace; and in the -pause that follows the Chorus muse over the scene. They are bewildered -and torn by doubt. They may not disbelieve the seer, but they cannot and -will not believe that their beloved king has been guilty of deeds so -vile. As they sing, Creon rushes on indignant; and he is followed a -moment afterward by Œdipus. Here at last is an opportunity to strike out -against the deadly thing which seems closing in around him. Creon is no -old and blind opponent, before whose weakness his hands are tied; but a -man of equal strength and rank whom, in his rashness, he believes to be -his bitter enemy. Without a word of prelude or explanation, Œdipus -flings down the gauntlet; and declares Creon, his comrade and the -brother of his wife, to be a traitor. The charge is false and foolish, -to every mind but that of the overwrought king. But reason cannot sway -him now; Creon’s protests are futile, and his proofs of innocence mere -words bereft of meaning. This knave who has plotted against him must -die, and quickly, before his schemes can take effect. In vain Creon -pleads for justice: in vain the leader of the Chorus tries to stem the -king’s anger, With a rallying cry to his guards, Œdipus draws his sword -upon Creon. But as he springs to the blow there suddenly appears in the -doorway of the palace, Jocasta the queen. An immediate silence falls: -weapons are lowered; and the queen advances slowly to the top of the -palace steps. The Chorus move back, leaving Œdipus and Creon standing -alone before her. She looks reproachfully into one shamed face after -another and then, with gentle dignity, she speaks: - - “_Vain men, what would ye with this angry swell - Of words heart-blinded? Is there in your eyes - No pity, thus, when all our city lies - Bleeding, to ply your privy hates?... Alack, - My lord, come in! Thou, Creon, get thee back - To thine own house. And stir not to such stress - Of peril griefs that are but nothingness._“[22] - -There is authority in her tone and in her words, none the less -compelling because of the tender humanity below them. It calms the -disputants: and as they recount to her the cause of the quarrel, -emotions ebb and leave the cold facts, hard and ugly. It is clear that -Œdipus has been rash in his accusations; and Jocasta counsels him to -accept the oath of loyalty that Creon offers. Then, when the peace is -made, and she and Œdipus remain alone, she begs him to tell her all that -has happened. Œdipus sums the cause of the brawl in a few words—he -believes that Creon is plotting against his life, by accusing him, -through the instrumentality of Tiresias the seer, of the murder of -Laius. At the mention of the seer there is a flash of scorn in Jocasta’s -eyes, followed by a shadow of pain, as memory brings back the time when -she trusted in the vain words of a prophet to her sorrow. - - “_The seer?—Then tear thy terrors like a veil - And take free breath. A seer? No human thing - Born on the earth hath power for conjuring - Truth from the dark of God. - Come, I will tell - An old tale._“[22] - -She recounts the story of the oracle that came to Laius, declaring that -he should die by the hand of his son; and of the terrible means that -they had taken to frustrate it, casting out their child to die upon the -mountain. - - “_Thus did we cheat - Apollo of his will. My child could slay - No father, and the King could cast away - The fear that dogged him, by his child to die - Murdered.—Behold the fruits of prophecy! - Which heed not thou! God needs not that a seer - Help him, when he would make his dark things clear._“[22] - -As Jocasta speaks, we feel that time has not yet healed her wound. The -thought of that unnatural deed of her young motherhood, is still so -horrible to her that though she tries she cannot tell all the truth -about it. She says that Laius gave the baby to the slave, whereas it was -she herself. Remorse sweeps over her, and the bitterness which lies just -below the surface of her life rises in revolt against the oracle which -could tempt to such a deed. There is no impiety in her words. Her voice -is reverent when she names the god. But for his corrupt interpreters her -acute perception has nothing but contempt. Œdipus will do well to -despise them too. - -But the king has not observed her emotion. Something that she has said -about the manner of Laius’ death has startled him. He asks her to repeat -it. Yes, it was in Phokis, at a place where three roads met; and it -happened just before the stranger Œdipus arrived. Œdipus is recalling -fearfully his own encounter on such a spot. But what was Laius like? - -JOC. _Tall, with the white new gleaming on his brow - He walked. In shape just such a man as thou._[22] - -In growing dread, hurried questions are put and answered; and all the -details save one Œdipus finds to correspond with that old event. But -that one may save him yet. For the attendant who returned had said that -a _band of robbers_ slew the king. He must be sent for instantly. -Jocasta promises to do so; but may she not know all that is troubling -him, and whither his questions tend? - -ŒD. _Thou shalt. When I am tossed to such an height - Of dark foreboding, woman, when my mind - Faceth such straits as these, where should I find - A mightier love than thine?_[22] - -Then, partly because he is instinctively seeking relief from the -thoughts that oppress him: partly to refresh Jocasta’s memory and to -clarify his own mind, he recounts all the story of his early life; of -his parents Polybus and Merope, of his visit to Delphi, of his flight -from the oracular decree, of the fierce encounter at the cross-roads in -Phokis, and of how he slew the unknown rider in the chariot. At this -point his voice falters: - - “_Oh, if that man’s unspoken name - Had aught of Laius in him, in God’s eye - What man doth move more miserable than I, - More dogged by the hate of heaven!_“[22] - -He has one shred of hope, however. If the herdsman who returned spoke -truth, clearly Œdipus was not the murderer. Jocasta repeats her promise -to send for him, and as she leads the king into the palace she tries to -soothe him. The herdsman certainly told the story exactly so: - - “_... All they that heard him know, - Not only I. He cannot change again - Now. And if change he should, O Lord of men, - No change of his can make the prophecy - Of Laius’ death fall true. He was to die - Slain by my son. So Loxias spake.... My son! - He slew no man, that poor deserted one - That died.... And I will no more turn mine eyes - This way nor that for all their prophecies._“[22] - -The awful irony underlying her words prepares us for the next step of -the revelation. Œdipus sees only one thing yet—that he may be the -unwitting murderer. But what need to fear, says the queen, to comfort -him, since the God had said that Laius should be slain at the hands of -that poor dead babe? She is not really confident however. The king’s -apprehension has secretly seized on her too; and presently she returns -from the palace with her maidens, to pray at the altar of Apollo. She -lays her husband’s grief before the god. - - “_And seeing no word of mine hath power to heal - His torment, therefore forth to thee I steal, - O Slayer of the Wolf, O Lord of Light, - Apollo.... - O show us still some path that is not all - Unclean; for now our captain’s eyes are dim - With dread, and the whole ship must follow him._“[22] - -The answer to her prayer is very near; but bringing desolation in the -guise of joy. Even as she kneels before the altar there comes a voice -calling on the name of the king, as though it were the voice of the god -himself. It is a stranger from Corinth; and the queen rises to receive -his greeting. - -He is the bearer of good news, he says; a message from the people of -Corinth, to Œdipus. They have declared him to be their king, in the -place of Polybus, who is dead. It seems good news indeed. Polybus dead, -there is no need now for the anxious king to fear that oracular menace -from Delphi; and Jocasta’s heart bounds at the thought. - - “_Where stand ye at the last, - Ye oracles of God? For many a year - Œdipus fled before that man, in fear - To slay him. And behold we find him thus - Slain by a chance death, not by Oedipus._“[22] - -Œdipus is hurriedly sent for, and, hearing the news confirmed from the -lips of the messenger, is caught up suddenly on a wave of exultation. In -the violent reaction from his lifelong terror there is a rush of joy -which has something sinister in it, by its very excess. Jocasta was -right. It was a lying oracle which said he should slay his father; and -in the first sense of relief he vows that never again will he trust in -seer-craft. But the words are hardly cold upon his lips, when he -remembers that he has still one other thing to fear. The curse had been, -“To slay his father and marry with his mother”; and while Queen Merope -lives he must therefore always be an exile from Corinth. But Jocasta is -not daunted. Possessed by her conviction that all oracles are false and -evil, she tries to reason away his fear. - -JOC. _What should man do with fear, who hath but Chance - Above him, and no sight nor governance - Of things to be? To live as life may run, - No fear, no fret, were wisest ‘neath the sun. - And thou, fear not thy mother. Prophets deem - A deed wrought that is wrought but in a dream. - And he to whom these things are nothing, best - Will bear his burden._[22] - -The Corinthian messenger, too, has caught at Œdipus’s words. Does the -king fear Merope, believing her to be his mother? And is that the reason -why he has never come to Corinth? Then let him set his mind at rest, for -he, the herdsman of Polybus, happens to have sure knowledge that Œdipus -is not the son of Merope. Œdipus and Jocasta stand amazed; and Œdipus -presses the stranger for all that he knows. But at first he will not say -more. He repeats that Œdipus is not the son of Polybus and Merope; but -he shrinks from disclosing to the great king that he was an unknown -foundling. He answers reluctantly to the eager questioning of Œdipus, -who is now hot upon the scent of his mysterious parentage. Blindly, -almost feverishly, with no hint of where each step is leading him, he -stumbles on. But fear is awakening in Jocasta, as bit by bit the -stranger reveals that he himself had given the infant to Polybus. But -how came the child to him? And whence? Thus pursues the excited king, -while Jocasta stands in silent suspense. The answer of the stranger -smites her with a sudden prescience of what is coming. He says he found -the babe in a high glen of Kithairon; and as, in rapid answer to the -king, he tells of its poor maimed feet and of the Theban herdsman from -whom he received it, the full truth falls upon Jocasta with a shattering -blow. This man, the king, her husband, is none other than that outcast -child, her son. But Œdipus does not see the horror yet; and as she -stands rigid at his side one thought and one prayer fill her mind—that -he may never know. But some frenzy seems to possess him, driving him to -destroy himself. He turns to an officer of the Court. Where is the -Theban herdsman of whom the stranger speaks? He must be sought, and made -to say whence came the child that he gave to this stranger from Corinth. -The officer replies hesitatingly; he thinks he must be the same man who -was king Laius’ attendant, and who has already been sent for. But only -the queen can tell of his whereabouts. Œdipus turns quickly on Jocasta, -and then for the first time sees her anguish. But he has no clue to its -cause. He cannot know that there has fallen on her misery worse than -death; and that with all the strength of body and soul she is trying to -shield him from it. He can see only a fear, which seems to him -contemptible, that he may prove to be base-born. Impatience leaps to -anger as she tries to evade his questions; and he replies with a taunt -at what he believes to be her pride. - -ŒD. _Fear not!... Though I be thrice of slavish stuff - From my third grand-dam down, it shames not thee._ - -JOC. _Ask no more. I beseech thee.... Promise me!_ - -ŒD. _To leave the Truth half found? ‘Tis not my mood._ - -JOC. _I understand; and tell thee what is good._ - -ŒD. _Thy good doth weary me._[22] - -It seems at this word that all Jocasta’s strength breaks down. The -malign power that is driving Œdipus onward is too great for her, and she -cannot strive against it any longer. She can only wail in answer: - - “_O child of woe, - I pray God, I pray God, thou never know!_“[22] - -And then, as Œdipus turns roughly from her, all his tenderness -shrivelled to scorn and wrath, the last link snaps. In another moment he -will know the truth; and knowing it, she will be loathsome and abhorrent -in his eyes. The thought brings intolerable pain. She craves relief, -escape, and, swiftly—before Œdipus can learn what he is seeking, before -his accusing eyes can meet her own—annihilation. With an imploring -gesture, she takes one step toward him. - - “_Unhappy one, good-bye! Good-bye before - I go: this once, and never, never more!_“[22] - -But Œdipus does not heed her; and with wild eyes, she flies into the -palace, to die by her own hand. And when the great king, brought at last -to see the truth which casts him lower than the meanest slave, thinks to -avenge his wrongs on her, he finds that she has taken vengeance on -herself. Before her pitiful dead body his wrath is turned to loathing of -himself; and the hand that was raised against her, smites the light for -ever from his own eyes. - ------ - -Footnote 21: - - From Professor J. W. Mackail’s translation of the _Odyssey_ (John - Murray). - -Footnote 22: - - From Professor Gilbert Murray’s translation of the _Œdipus, King of - Thebes_ (George Allen & Co. Ltd.). - - - - -_Sophocles: Antigone_ - - -There was an important figure in _Œdipus the King_ whom we only glanced -at in passing when we were considering the story of Jocasta. He was the -queen’s own brother, Creon; a man who knew better than to covet kingly -honours, and who had a soul for friendship. It was he who said, -answering the rash accusation which Œdipus made against him: - - “_This I tell thee. He who plucks a friend - Out from his heart hath lost a treasured thing - Dear as his own dear life._“[23] - -Thus, when the great king’s downfall came, Creon knew how to be a -friend. He was gentle to Œdipus; and forgetting his own wrongs, he took -upon himself the care of the king’s young daughters, Antigone and -Ismene. - -But Creon said once, at another crowded moment of his career: - - “_Hard it is to learn - The mind of any mortal or the heart, - Till he be tried in chief authority. - Power shows the man._“[24] - -It was a true word, and curiously verified in his own life. For he who -had shown so fair a front in Thebes, when the reins of government lay in -the hands of Œdipus and Jocasta, proved himself a tyrant when authority -fell on him. Creon, young and ardent, could dare the wrath of Œdipus, -and tell him to his face that even a king might not be unjust. But the -same man clothed in power, with youthful ideals fled and all the texture -of his mind hardened by age and convention, could only meet the supreme -idealism of Antigone with a decree of death. - -It is not suggested that Sophocles has developed Creon’s character in an -unbroken sequence through the three dramas in which he appears. The -chronology of the plays forbids this. For the _Antigone_, which presents -the last phase of the story, was written years before _Œdipus the King_ -and the _Œdipus at Colonus_, which give us both Antigone and Creon in -earlier days. But that is an external fact which does not much disturb -the unity of the poet’s conception. The Creon of the three plays is -essentially the same man. He is not consistent always, since no human -creature is. But under that accusing contrast between the theories of -his youth and the practice of his age there is an abiding law of human -nature which only the few fine souls escape. And we are clearly shown -that Creon was not born to be the rare exception. Always prudent, -law-abiding and careful of authority, these qualities would strengthen -with the years; and lighted by no higher truth, but carried to excess in -moments of passion, would inevitably make him what he became. - -In the same way there is an underlying unity in the character of -Antigone. In _Œdipus the King_ we know her only by name, a child of -thirteen into whose sunny life a storm has suddenly crashed. In the -_Œdipus at Colonus_, the strong young spirit has awakened, and is giving -clear promise of the heights to which it will soar before its short day -is done. While the _Antigone_, the drama which bears her name, does but -fulfil and make perfect what is fair promise in the other plays. - -We are entitled therefore, in coming to the Attic dramatists for -Antigone’s story, to read the three Sophoclean plays as if they were a -trilogy; although each of the three is distinct and complete in itself. -And we shall find too, that in the _Seven against Thebes_ of Æschylus, -in which Antigone first appears, there is sounded once for all the high -heroic note to which her story moved in the versions of the later poets. -There is indeed a wealth of testimony for Antigone, and fine unanimity -in it. We can trace her short life almost throughout. There was the -happy early time in Thebes, when royalty sat lightly on the merry boys -and girls in the palace; and when the great king and queen were simply -their dear and loving parents. That was a time of sweetest memories. -Ambition had not yet taught the two spirited brothers to hate each -other; and Ismene was still the gentle little sister who would follow -with unquestioning devotion wherever Antigone might lead. - -But in one black day, and with no warning given, every ray of happiness -had been blotted out. Of all the sights and sounds huddled into the -memory of that hideous day, Antigone could only recall two things -clearly—the stately queen her mother lying dead by her own hand; and -Œdipus the king, self-blinded, pleading in strange remorse outside the -palace to be banished from the city. But one impression, filtering -almost unconsciously through her terror, remained and grew. It was the -look of horror, almost of loathing, on every face that surrounded the -unhappy king. Antigone herself could hardly bear to see him; but she -vaguely felt that in these shrinking figures there was something more -than physical revulsion at the sight. Why did the crowding people, the -senators, even Prince Creon himself, draw away from her father as though -he were some unclean thing whose touch would pollute them? That they did -so stung her; and although their terrified recoil was only dimly -realized at the time, it brought a flood of pity and indignation with -it. In the wave of protecting love that filled her heart, making her -long to fling herself between the dear maimed father and all those cruel -glances, Antigone the woman sprang to a noble life. She did not grow to -full stature immediately. Years passed, and Creon, assuming rule in -Thebes as regent for her brothers, prevailed on Œdipus to seclude -himself within the city. Time brought sad knowledge to Antigone. She -learned the causes of the tragedy that had fallen on them, as it seemed, -out of a blue sky. She found, too, the meaning of that frantic -abhorrence of her father; though she never learned to share it. Neither -intellect nor heart would consent to hold him guilty: not by one iota -was he responsible for the evils that had smitten him. So, as his own -brain cleared from the shock of the calamity, Œdipus found a champion in -his daughter whose splendid logic and whose love were alike invincible. - -Later he had need of all Antigone’s courage. For faction sprang to life -in the city and grew fast. Superstition fed it eagerly, and soon there -was but one thought in all the darkened mind of Thebes, from Creon -downward. Their town, in sheltering Œdipus, was harbouring pollution; -and he must be cast out. The people clamoured fanatically; but Creon and -the princes Polynices and Eteocles made no stand against them. To them, -the presence of Œdipus was a political embarrassment, as well as an -alleged cause of displeasure to the gods. Thus ambition united with fear -to drive them on; and presently, his unnatural sons consenting, Œdipus -was ruthlessly cast out of Thebes. - -There was only one voice uplifted in his defence; but a woman’s word, -though it might be the soul of right, had no value in the counsels of -the State. Œdipus went into exile alone: poor, blind and dogged by the -curse which his cruel destiny had invoked upon him. But he did not -wander long unfriended. - - _Antigone, - E’er since her childhood ended, and her frame - Was firmly knit, with ceaseless ministry - Still tends upon an old man’s wandering, - Oft in the forest ranging up and down - Fasting and barefoot through the burning heat - Or pelting rain, nor thinks, unhappy maid, - Of home or comfort, so her father’s need - Be satisfied._[25] - -Year after year they wandered together, haunting the glens and groves of -Mt. Kithairon, where the infant Œdipus had been exposed. It seemed as if -his destiny were calling him to render up his life there on the spot -which had seen the beginning of his wrongs. But the gods relented a -little at last. There came to Œdipus a divine message that he should -have honour at the end, and a glorious passing. He should not know the -death of a mortal creature. He was to fare to Athens, and in the little -deme of Colonus, at the place which was sacred to Poseidon and -Prometheus, the awful Powers of the Underworld would welcome him, -living, to their shadowy empire. - -To Colonus, then, Œdipus and Antigone wearily came; and threw themselves -on the protection of Theseus. They were strange suppliants, hardly -auspicious in the eyes of the Athenian folk before whom Antigone pleaded -for succour. And the message which Œdipus sent to their king was -stranger still, as he repeated the promise that Apollo had given him: - - “_When I should reach my bourne, - And find repose and refuge with the Powers - Of reverent name, my troubled life should end - With blessing to the men who sheltered me, - And curses on their race who banished me - And sent me wandering forth._“[25] - -Even in dying, it seemed, his life should have no peace. There was still -one act of wrath to do: the stormy day must needs go out in storm. When -he stood before Theseus, to declare his name and history, all the -unquiet flux of life seemed sweeping round him still. - - “_Fair Aigeus’ son, only to gods in heaven - Comes no old age, nor death of anything; - All else is turmoiled by our master Time. - The earth’s strength fades and manhood’s glory fades, - Faith dies, and unfaith blossoms like a flower. - And who shall find in the open streets of men - Or secret places of his own heart’s love - One wind blow true for ever?_“[26] - -Theseus took pity on the poor blind king and gave him refuge. But -meantime, away in Thebes, his sons were quarrelling about the succession -to the throne. Eteocles and Creon had stirred up the people against -Polynices; and he, too, was banished from the kingdom. But he had -strength and influence. He fled to Argos: married the daughter of king -Adrastus there, and presently had raised an army, with six other Greek -chiefs, to invade his native country. This incident is the subject of -Æschylus’s drama called _The Seven against Thebes_. - -On the eve of the battle, Polynices remembered Œdipus. His own -misfortunes had taught him remorse for the part which he had played -against his outcast father; and a conviction weighed on him that no -enterprise of his might succeed until he had begged forgiveness and a -blessing. So he travelled hastily to Colonus; and in fear both of his -father and of Theseus, he flung himself as a suppliant at the altar of -Poseidon. But in the heart of Œdipus anger still burned; and in his ears -still sounded the last oracular command—to curse these impious sons -before he died. At first he refused even to see Polynices, when Theseus -brought word of his petition; and only yielded to Antigone’s plea that -he should at least give her brother a hearing. - - “_Father, give ear, though I be young that speak. - ... He is thy son: - Whence, were his heartless conduct against thee - Beyond redemption impious, O my sire, - Thy vengeance still would be unnatural. - O, let him!—Others have had evil sons - And passionate anger, but the warning voice - Of friends hath charmed their mood. Then do not thou - Look narrowly upon thy present griefs, - But on those ancient wrongs thou didst endure - From father and from mother. Thence, thou wilt learn - That evil passion ever ends in woe._“[25] - -But from the first there was no hope of a softer mood in Œdipus. Grimly -he listened while Polynices poured out his plea for forgiveness, and -when all was said, broke into the curse which was to devastate his -children’s lives. Never should the crime of Polynices and Eteocles be -forgiven; but in this battle, when each hoped to win glory and the -throne of Thebes, both should fall, slain each by the other’s hand. - -The siege of Thebes was thus foredoomed; and Antigone implored her -brother to abandon the enterprise. But he was committed to it beyond -recall; and went to meet failure and certain death. One solemn request -he made of her and of Ismene too, at their farewell. When he should lie -dead before Thebes, would she promise him the last holy act of burial? -There would be no other kin to perform the rite, and if it were not -done, his ghost must wander endlessly and find no rest. - - “_I must attend - To my dark enterprise, blasted and foiled - Beforehand by my father’s angry curse. - But as for you, Heaven prosper all your way, - If ye will show this kindness in my death, - For nevermore in life shall ye befriend me!_“[25] - -No oath could bind Antigone more strongly than the prompting of her -love; but she gave her word to Polynices, so that he might go untroubled -by a dread more awful than any other to a Greek. And when the testing -time came, both love and duty were irrevocably engaged. It came very -soon. On the day that the Seven laid siege to Thebes, the gods took -Œdipus. In marvellous fashion he left the earth, rapt away in the -thunders of Olympus, while mighty voices called upon his name. And as, -unseen by mortal eyes, he crossed that mysterious Brazen Causeway, the -Argive army lay round Thebes. When Antigone and Ismene returned to the -city, dreadful tidings were brought to them. Their brothers had met in -single combat, and, fighting furiously, each had slain the other. - -MESSENGER. _The genius of them both was even so dire, - So undistinguishing; and with one stroke - Consigns to nothingness that hapless race ... - Thebè is rescued: but her princes twain - By mutual slaughter fratricidally - Are perished; their own land hath drunk their blood._[27] - -[Illustration: - - ŒDIPUS & ANTIGONE - - _From the sculpture by Hugues in the Luxembourg_ -] - -Creon instantly assumed control. The Argive host was beaten back, and -when the next day dawned, the invading force was gone. The siege was -over; and Thebes might set about the pious task of burying its dead. The -princes were taken up from the spot where they had fallen, and brought -into the city. By the most sacred law of Greek religion every ceremony -of burial should now be reverently performed. The duty devolved first on -male kindred; and Creon, as uncle to the princes, should perform the -rites. But Creon was now king of Thebes; and in that capacity there fell -on him another, and a conflicting, duty. He must decide what burial -honours might fittingly be paid to Polynices, the traitor who had fought -against his country. - -Antigone waited in anxiety for the decision. For Eteocles she had no -fear: he had given no offence to Thebes. But she knew Creon’s rigorous -spirit; she knew his devotion to the State; and she trembled for the -poor misguided brother who had sinned against the State. In the early -morning after the battle, Antigone came out of the palace, to meet the -procession which bore her brothers’ bodies in. And as she joined her -voice to the mourners’ wail, Creon’s herald broke upon their grief, to -announce the king’s decree. - -HERALD. _’Tis mine to announce the will and firm decree - Of the high council of this Theban state. - Eteocles, as loyal to his land, - Shall be insepulchred beneath her shade.... - But this, his brother Polynices’ corpse, - Graveless shall be cast forth for dogs to tear. - ... Dead though he be, his country’s gods - Shall ban him, since he brought in their despite - A foreign host to invade and subjugate - Their city...._ - - _... No drink-offerings - Poured at his tomb by careful hands, no sound - Of dirgeful wailing shall enhance his fame, - Nor following of dear footsteps honour him. - So runs the enactment of our Theban lords._[27] - -But Creon had reckoned without Antigone. Her utmost apprehension had not -dreamed that so cruel an edict could be passed. It was foul dishonour to -the dead, and an insult to the gods. But she would never suffer it. -Though she must be one woman against the whole of Thebes, her brother -should not lack the necessary rites. - -ANTIGONE. _But I make answer to the lords of Thebes, - Though none beside consent to bury him, - I will provide my brother’s funeral. - ... Then, O my soul, - Of thine own living will share thou the wrongs - Forced on the helpless dead: be leal and true._[27] - -At this point of the story, the _Antigone_ of Sophocles opens. Creon has -heard a rumour of defiance, and has added a penalty of death to his -decree. The sisters are alone outside the palace. Antigone, not doubting -of Ismene for a moment, rapidly puts before her a plan for Polynices’ -burial. They must act at once, quickly and quietly, before Creon may -have time to prevent them. To her utter amazement, however, Ismene will -not help her. She is a gentle, timid creature: she cannot think it -possible that Antigone will dare to defy Creon’s edict: the mere -suggestion terrifies her. She cannot rise to Antigone’s perception of a -law higher than this ugly mandate against the dead; and if she could, -she is not of the heroic fibre to make a stand against authority. She -sees and admits that this vengeful edict must needs offend the gods; but -for her part, she can only pray to be held guiltless of it. She is not -lacking in love and loyalty to her kin. When Œdipus and Antigone were -wandering in beggary, Ismene had secretly contrived to send them aid; -and once she had ridden a perilous journey in order to warn them of -danger. She is no craven. Only, she is oppressed by a sense of physical -weakness: the forces which Antigone will challenge are overwhelming, and -will surely crush her. Is it not rash and sinful to attempt the -impossible? - - “_O think how beyond all - Most piteously we two shall be destroyed, - If in defiance of authority - We traverse the commandment of the king!_“[24] - -Antigone is bitterly disappointed. She had gauged Ismene by herself, and -thought her courage would be equal to her love. To her the duty to their -dead is a holy act, crying aloud for fulfilment, and shining far above -this tyrannous decree. It is so clear to her eager spirit that she -cannot doubt or hesitate. She had thought that one word to Ismene would -enlist her help; and instead, she is met with puerile answers -counselling prudence and submission. Her passionate soul flames into -indignation, and in her anger she is less than just to Ismene. Despite -her heroism, she is simply human. Nor is she, as has sometimes been -suggested, like a martyr of the early Christian era, whose humility and -gentleness would bless the hand that smote. Antigone’s warm heart is as -strong in its hatred as its love; absolute in devotion, but impetuous in -anger; capable of supreme self-sacrifice, and tender to infirmity; but -intolerant of moral weakness and meanness and timidity. She retorts in -scorn upon Ismene: - - “_I will not urge you! No! Nor if now you list - To help me, will your help afford me joy. - Be what you choose to be! This single hand - Shall bury our lost brother. Glorious - For me to take this labour and to die! - Dear to him will my soul be as we rest - In death, when I have dared this holy crime. - My time for pleasing men will soon be over; - Not so my duty towards the Dead! My home - Yonder will have no end. You, if you will, - May throw contempt on laws revered on High._“[24] - -Ismene protests that she had no thought of scorn; and indeed her gentle -spirit has no place for anything so harsh. But when she begs Antigone to -keep her purpose secret, and reiterates her conviction that the attempt -will prove futile, Antigone will not listen any longer. With a bitter -word on her lips, she goes out alone to face her perilous task. - - “_Speak in that vein if you would earn my hate - And aye be hated of our lost one. Peace! - Leave my unwisdom to endure this peril; - Fate cannot rob me of a noble death._”[24] - -Ismene, left standing before the palace, gives one involuntary cry of -mingled fear and admiration. Then the thought of Antigone’s danger -overwhelms her, and she rushes within like one distracted. - -In the Parados which follows, sung by a Chorus of Theban elders, we are -made to feel with growing force the isolation of Antigone. For they sing -of the Argive attack, and of the sin of Polynices in bringing an army -against Thebes. They are old men, and cannot be expected to share the -ardent enthusiasm of youth; and being senators, their greatest care must -be to uphold the State against its enemies. When Creon enters, heralded -with pomp and ceremony, they are tempered to the dry official mood which -will exactly suit his purpose. - -Creon is newly burdened with the weight of monarchy; and in this his -first public proclamation it seems to oppress him. There is an evident -anxiety in his tone as he repeats the edict that he has made against -Polynices. It seems, despite the authority of his words, as though he -were trying to justify the decree, not only to possible critics among -his hearers, but to an inner malcontent who will not be silenced. With -all the strength of words, he emphasises his devotion to the State; and -from our knowledge of Creon, we realize that this is something more than -mere protestation. The glory of Thebes shall be his constant aim and -utmost care, he says. Her friends he will exalt, and her enemies shall -be his enemies. - -With this prelude, he comes fittingly to the terms of the edict. -Eteocles, who died fighting for his country, shall receive every tribute -that the State can pay; but the traitor who could betray his country to -an enemy shall be justly left dishonoured, for carrion to devour. As we -listen to the speech we are compelled to admit its stern logic. We see -that Creon’s action is not entirely arbitrary, so far. There is, -according to his standard, rigorous justice in it; and no other standard -had yet been applied. The Chorus would not question it. It is in the -main an echo of their own thought; only it looks a little harsh, put -into words. They, too, believe Polynices guilty of an unpardonable crime -against the country that they serve; and they have no wish to gainsay -Creon. But about this vengeance taken on the dead there seems to be a -certain degree of excess, which forbids entire approval. At any rate, -they will take no responsibility for it. “It is thine,” they reply to -the king, “to exercise all power.” They will not take upon themselves to -criticize the action of their king, though it may cause uneasiness; and -on the other hand, they dare not censure it. He is in authority, and -they must submit. - -Creon then proceeds to explain that he has set a watch over Polynices’ -body. But even while he is speaking there shuffles on the scene a -curious, half-comic figure, announcing that the edict has been defied. -He is one of the sentinels set to guard the corpse. In brusque speech, -and with exaggerated fear for his own life, he tells a strange tale. At -the first light of morning, he and his companions found that some -unknown hand had given the prince his funeral rites: not the full and -complete ceremony, but just so much as to give peace to the unquiet -spirit. - - “_And when the scout of our first daylight watch - Showed us the thing, we marvelled in dismay. - The Prince was out of sight; not in a grave, - But a thin dust was o’er him, as if thrown - By one who shunned the dead man’s curse._“[24] - -Creon’s judicial air vanishes in a moment. Astonishment quickly gives -place to anger as he listens; and this is only heightened when the -Chorus suggest that some god has interposed to pay the burial rites. -Startled by the strange recital, their words betray an involuntary -glimpse of the misgiving that underlies their submission to the king, -Creon breaks into angry speech. The insult to his authority stings his -new-found sense of power; but when the senators imply that the gods -themselves disapprove of his action, some prick of the unacknowledged -truth goads him to fury. And below his wrath there lies a suspicion of -disloyalty amongst the citizens, and corruption amongst his slaves. - -Not the gods, he says, but these same watchmen who were set to guard the -body, have performed the rites. And they have done it for gain; set on -by rebels who will not accept his rule. Driven by complex emotions, he -loses all sense of restraint; and threatens the sentinel with torture -and death if he does not find and bring the culprit immediately. Then he -strides into the palace, and the man flings off with a gibe. - -In the short interval which follows, the Chorus sing aptly and -beautifully of the daring and skill of man. But their ode soon breaks -into excited exclamations. They see the watchman who but lately left -them returning hurriedly and leading a woman by the hand. At the same -moment Creon enters. - -CHORUS. _What portent from the gods is here? - My mind is mazed with doubt and fear. - How can I gainsay what I see? - I know the girl Antigone. - O hapless child of hapless sire! - Didst thou, then, recklessly aspire - To brave kings’ laws, and now art brought - In madness of transgression caught?_[24] - -Her captor is exultant, for he has disproved the charge against himself. -Not that it gives him pleasure to betray the kind young princess; but -everybody’s life is precious to himself, he says, not seeing one gleam -of the splendid scorn of life in the girl who is standing beside him. -This maid is undoubtedly the transgressor, for they caught her in the -act. Now let the king acquit him of the false accusation, and set him -free. Before the man may go, however, Creon turns to Antigone. She -stands pale and silent, her eyes lowered before the incredulous gaze of -all these hostile men. Does she confirm the amazing statement they have -just heard? he asks. It is quite true, she answers; she owns to the -deed. Then Creon, having dismissed the watchman, demands to be told why -she has dared to disobey his edict. Antigone’s reply, with all its -spiritual power and beauty, is also touchingly human. Creon has asked -whether she was aware of the decree and the penalty. - -ANT. _I could not fail to know. You made it plain._ - -CREON. _How durst thou then transgress the published law?_ - -ANT. _I heard it not from Heaven, nor came it forth - From Justice, where she reigns with Gods below. - They too have published to mankind a law. - Nor thought I thy commandment of such might - That one who is mortal thus could overbear - The infallible, unwritten laws of Heaven. - Not now or yesterday they have their being, - But everlastingly, and none can tell - The hour that saw their birth. I would not, I, - For any terrors of a man’s resolve, - Incur the God-inflicted penalty - Of doing them wrong. That death would come—I knew - Without thine edict:—if before the time, - I count it gain. Who does not gain by death, - That lives, as I do, amid boundless woe? - Slight is the sorrow of such doom to me. - But had I suffered my own mother’s child, - Fallen in blood, to be without a grave, - That were indeed a sorrow. This is none._[24] - -Up to this point her ardent vision and courage have carried her on, -soaring high into the light of eternal truth, or tenderly stooping to -the sanction of dear human ties. The austerity of the stern faces by -which she is surrounded has had no power to quell her fervent spirit; -and it is only when she catches Creon’s look of contempt that a bitter -reality forces itself upon her. This passion of self-sacrifice, this -duty which comes to her as a mandate from the gods themselves, is stark -nonsense in the eyes of the man who confronts her. The thought gives a -sudden pause to her ardour, and there is a quick revulsion to anger. O -these blind eyes that will not see! And this stupidity that refuses to -be enlightened! She drops to a lower range, and ends abruptly on a taunt -at Creon’s dullness of perception: - - “_And if thou deem’st me foolish for my deed, - I am foolish in the judgment of a fool._“[24] - -The Chorus has relapsed into submission to Creon. No spark of fire from -Antigone’s burning words can warm their coldness. Yet their frigid -comment is significant. How like she is, in her strong will, to Œdipus, -her sire. Creon takes up their words. Yes, she is stubborn, but the -hardest metal will soonest break. Not content with disobedience, she -must glory in her deed. But she shall surely die for it; and Ismene, -too, if she has been an accomplice. - -Antigone had expected no less than the death penalty for herself; but -she will by no means allow Ismene to be included in it. For, first, -Ismene had refused her help; and then, she is too slight and weak a -creature for such a terrible ordeal. Antigone sees that there is a sharp -struggle coming. Some attendants have brought her sister from the -palace, and she comes weeping for Antigone’s fate. Creon turns upon her -in a fury. Without a sign of proof, he roundly accuses her of complicity -in the deed. - -To Ismene, who does not know what has passed, it seems clear that -Antigone has in some way implicated her. But she will not deny it. On -the contrary, there is in her tender heart some sense of relief, despite -her fear, that she can now prove to Antigone her loyalty. Ever since she -first refused her help, remorse has stung her. But now there is an -opportunity to redeem her weakness, and she makes a pathetic attempt to -share Antigone’s fate. It is not a very bold effort, however: she seems -almost to tremble as she tells Creon that she _did_ help in the -burial—if Antigone said so; and none but a man who was blind with rage -could have been deceived by it. But to Creon the poor little declaration -has all the appearance of truth; and Antigone, knowing his inexorable -nature, sees that he will assuredly condemn Ismene to death. She must -interpose, quickly and decisively. She is still sore with disappointment -at her sister; her own burden, since the glow of her magnificent defence -passed, has grown heavier at every moment; and there is, moreover, a -very natural resentment that Ismene should claim merit where it is not -due. She breaks in with an emphatic denial of her sister’s help. - -ISMENE. _Alas! and must I be debarred thy fate?_ - -ANTIG. _Life was the choice you made: Mine was to die._ - -ISMENE. _I warned thee—_ - -ANTIG. _Yes, your prudence is admired - On earth. My wisdom is approved below._ - -ISMENE. _Yet truly we are both alike in fault._ - -ANTIG. _Fear not; you live. My life hath long been given - To death, to be of service to the dead._[24] - -Hurt and baffled, Ismene now turns to Creon with an appeal that she -thinks must touch him. Will he not save Antigone for Hæmon’s sake, his -son, to whom she is betrothed? Surely he will not break the heart of his -own child, too? His reply is a brutal jest that wrings from Antigone the -first sign of her anguish. The pity of her broken life, to herself and -to the lover she must leave, elicits a poignant cry: - - “_O dearest Hæmon! How thy father wrongs thee!_”[24] - -Then she is led away by the guards. - -Almost immediately there enters upon the scene a man who is much better -fitted to cope with Creon. He is Hæmon, Antigone’s lover. Logical, -restrained, and of considerable force of character, he possesses besides -a valuable key to his father’s temperament. He knows the man with whom -he has to deal, and adopts a quiet, conciliatory tone, deferring from -the first to Creon’s rights as his father and his king. He listens with -apparent calm to the arraignment of Antigone; and makes no reply when -Creon expounds his doctrine of absolute obedience to the laws of the -State, be they right or wrong. He even controls himself at the rough -exhortation to “cast her off, to wed with some one down below.” - -But Hæmon is only biding his time; and when his father concludes, he -begins, tactfully and with moderation, to put before him the only plea -which he thinks has any hope of influencing him. He appeals to Creon in -his public capacity, and asks him to consider the opinion of the -citizens of Thebes upon Antigone’s action. - - “_Thy people mourn this maiden, and complain - That of all women least deservedly, - She perishes for a most glorious deed. - ‘Who, when her own true brother on the earth - Lay weltering after combat in his gore, - Left him not graveless, for the carrion-fowl - And raw-devouring field-dogs to consume— - Hath she not merited a golden praise?’ - Such the dark rumour spreading silently._”[24] - -With fine delicacy, and holding his emotions well in check, Hæmon hints -that his father will do well to listen to the voice of the people. No -human creature is infallible; and is it not unwise to cling too -tenaciously to one’s own will in the face of so strong a public opinion? -The tree that will not yield to the torrent is torn up by the roots; and -the sailor who rushes into the teeth of the storm with sheets taut is -liable to end his voyaging keel-upward. - -Creon interposes an angry exclamation; he will not be taught discretion -by a boy. But Hæmon is ready with an answer—Even age must yield to truth -and justice. Antigone is no base rebel: all Thebes denies it. “Am I -ruled by Thebes?” thunders Creon; and Hæmon, seeing his father lost to -reason, begins to feel the onrush of despair that will presently sweep -away his self-control. In the wave of emotion that breaks upon him, he -answers hotly to Creon’s taunts. It is the one thing needed to complete -his father’s wrath; and he turns with a brutal order to the Guards to -bring Antigone out, that she may die before her lover’s eyes. But Hæmon -will not look upon that sight. Under his quiet manner, a torrent of -passion has been gathering force; and a terrible resolution. He has been -keeping an iron hand upon himself; but he has known all through his -pleading that if Creon will dare to carry out the sentence against -Antigone, it will cost him the life of his son. Hæmon will not survive -his bride. Now, with an ominous cry that his father shall never see his -face again, he rushes from the place. - -The Chorus break into an exquisite lyric on the power of love; and a few -moments afterward Antigone herself crosses the scene, on her way to the -place of death. She is to be buried alive, in a rocky tomb in the hills; -and this last horror, with the inevitable reaction that has followed on -her splendid daring, have wrought a pathetic change in her. All her -audacity has gone: the passion of righteous anger has faded out: even -her perception is blunted. The vision of a higher law, and the superb -confidence that the gods approve her action, have grown dull and faint -before this dreadful thing which is coming to her. Her voice falters: -her footsteps lag: and on her lips are pitiful words of regret for all -the fair things that she is leaving. The old senators are moved, but are -sadly inept in their efforts at consolation. Remembering Antigone as she -had faced them in her magnificent heroism, they think to comfort her -with the thought that there is glory in her death. But Antigone is not -heroic now. She is a lonely human soul, confronting the last grim -reality; and the well-turned phrases of these comfortable old men are -revolting to her. What glory can really compensate for the monstrous -injustice that she suffers; for the loss of youth, and lover, and -friends; and for the hideous darkness that will quench the light of the -sun for her? - - “_O mockery of my woe! - I pray you by our fathers’ holy Fear, - Why must I hear - Your insults, while in life on earth I stand, - O ye that flow - In wealth, rich burghers of my bounteous land?... - By what enormity of lawless doom, - Without one friendly sigh, - I go to the strong mound of yon strange tomb— - All hapless, having neither part nor room - With those who live or those who die._“[24] - -Even faith seems swept away for a moment in this access of physical -weakness. But a gleam comes back, flickering through the clouds of doubt -upon that shadowy region of the Underworld: - - “_Dear will my coming be, father, to thee, - And dear to thee, my mother, and to thee, - Brother! since with these very hands I decked - And bathed you after death, and ministered - The last libations._“[24] - -Then the clouds gather again, and she cannot see anything clearly. Why -is she suffering so? Is it possible that she is guilty, that her deed -was wrong? In the strange confusion of her soul, truth itself seems to -reel, and the form of piety grows blurred. What if, after all, the gods -do _NOT_ approve, and it is she who has sinned? - -But from this most ghastly fear Creon himself unwittingly delivers her. -He breaks suddenly into her mourning with a harsh order; and instantly -her mind grows clear. - - “_O land of Thebè and city of my sires, - Ye too, ancestral Gods, I go, I go! - Even now they lead me to mine end. Behold! - Princes of Thebes, the only scion left - Of Cadmus’ issue, how unworthily, - By what mean instruments I am oppressed, - For reverencing the dues of piety._”[24] - -Beside the perverse authority of Creon, her integrity rises -unassailable. So Antigone passes, in light at the last. - - * * * * * - -It would take too long to tell of the punishment which befell Creon, -which is nevertheless a vital part of Sophocles’s _Antigone_. It was -swift and crushing. No sooner had the princess been led to her rocky -tomb than the seer Tiresias demanded an audience of the king. He had -come with solemn warnings from the gods, first because the body of -Polynices, the burial of which Antigone had not been allowed to -complete, was polluting the city; and secondly because his shameful -cruelty to the princess had given the gods offence. Let Creon go at once -and rescue Antigone from her living tomb; and let him pay the needful -honours to the dead. But if he will not instantly make this just amend, -the divine power will surely exact from him the payment of a life for -the life that he has taken. - -Creon has no recourse to authority now; and he makes but a feeble -resistance. Misguided and over-zealous hitherto, he is no sooner -convinced of his error by the Prophet than he makes a strenuous effort -to put it right. He is shaken by fear, too: and declares that he cannot -fight with destiny. So he goes to perform the will of the gods; and on -his action now the whole force of the tragedy hangs. The gods had -commanded—Release Antigone first, and then bury the body. But Creon in -his perturbation had not paid good heed. True to his nature, he turns to -the official duty first, the burial that is to remove pollution from the -city. Characteristically, too, he stays to perform the rites with the -utmost amplitude. Not until a mound has been heaped upon Polynices does -he proceed to the cave to release Antigone. Then he is too late. -Antigone has hanged herself from the rocky roof, and Hæmon is clinging -about her feet in agony. As Creon appears, the youth springs up with -intent to kill him; but missing his aim, he turns the sword against -himself and dies by Antigone’s side. - -So the gods exacted a life for a life; but the punishment was not yet -complete. When Creon, broken with grief, came carrying his dead son into -the palace, he found that the tragic news had been before him. Eurydice -his wife had slain herself. - -CREON. _Take me away, the vain-proud man who slew - Thee, O my son, and thee! - Me miserable! Which way shall I turn? - Which look upon? Since all that I can touch - Is falling, falling, round me, and o’erhead - Intolerable destiny descends._[24] - ------ - -Footnote 23: - - From Professor Gilbert Murray’s translation of the _Œdipus Tyrannus_ - (George Allen & Co., Ltd.). - -Footnote 24: - - From Professor Lewis Campbell’s translation of the _Antigone_ - (Clarendon Press). - -Footnote 25: - - From Professor Lewis Campbell’s translation of the _Œdipus at Colonus_ - (Clarendon Press). - -Footnote 26: - - From Professor Gilbert Murray’s translation of a fragment of the - _Œdipus Coloneus_ in his _History of Ancient Greek Literature_ - (William Heinemann). - -Footnote 27: - - From Professor Lewis Campbell’s translation of the _Seven against - Thebes_ (Clarendon Press). - - - - -_Euripides: Alcestis_ - - -In the story of Alcestis, we step at once into light and sweet air. Here -is no taint of an hereditary curse; no excess of passion to offend the -sight of gods and men; no foul crime to be avenged by other crime, and -expiated in its turn by bitter remorse. The Trojan Cycle and the Theban -Cycle, with all the tragic grandeur with which Æschylus and Sophocles -have invested them, are left behind. We come to a new theme, fair as a -garden and clean as a morning breeze. It is the tale of a wife’s supreme -love: of the friendship of a god for a mortal man: of an unique act of -hospitality and its magnificent requital. The oppressive sense of -destiny, of something almost malign in the heart of things, has lifted. -Human error and wrongdoing and impotence, which have hitherto made such -a sombre background for heroic figures, are lost in a glow of human -love. And instead of a brooding menace, there is the presence of a -benign divinity, seeking to protect and recompense virtue. - -But while we turn to the _Alcestis_ of Euripides with a refreshing sense -of contrast, we are soon reminded that the elements of the story itself -are unfavourable to the work as dramatic art. We could not expect from -such a theme a tragedy so intense and powerful as the works of the two -elder dramatists. The spectacle of virtue rewarded may satisfy a primary -moral sense; but for that very reason it will not evoke the strong -emotions which are the life of drama. While perfect accord with the -divine power, and harmony amongst the human agents of the story, utterly -preclude the sense of conflict without which tragedy can hardly be. For -that reason, it would seem, Euripides did not treat the legend as pure -tragedy. In any case, the happy ending of the legend upon which he -worked would forbid it; and he has further departed from convention by -introducing two scenes which, by their flavour of satire and their -stinging realism, partake of the nature of comedy. - -It would therefore appear that the critics have had some cause of -complaint against Euripides, on account of technical defects in the -_Alcestis_. They have indeed been very severe, not only on this play, -but on his drama generally, charging him with all sorts of artistic sins -which need not trouble us in the least. Fortunately, we are not much -concerned with criticism: and in this case there is opposed to the -censure a vast body of praise, ranking most of the poets on its side, -and all the minds which are attuned most nearly to the reflective note -of Euripidean poetry. - -If, however, we had time for a comparison with Sophocles, we should -quickly find for ourselves the one fact which gives colour to much of -the critics’ grumbling. Euripides was not, like Sophocles, a consummate -artist. But we should not stop at such profitless negation; for a larger -truth would spring to light a moment afterward. While the art is less, -the thought is much greater: there is a wider range, and a higher ideal. -Euripides is not content to make perfect drama: he must give humanity -the fullest and most complete expression possible to him. And since he -saw into the human heart with an eye at once so keen and pitiful; since -he felt with such insistence the ethical and intellectual problems of -the transition period in which he lived, it is no wonder if the artist -in him was sometimes taxed beyond his powers. The great Periclean Age -was passing; and the new era had some curious intellectual resemblances -to our own time. It had begun to examine the bases of its religion; it -had seen a great development of the democratic spirit; and it was -awakening to something wrong in the position of women. That these -questions greatly exercised the mind of Euripides we may see from the -prominent place they occupy in his drama; and that he must have been an -original and advanced thinker upon them is evident from certain facts of -his personal unpopularity, and from the freshness of his ideas to the -modern mind. That modernity is indeed one cause of his intimate appeal -to the thought of our own day; and so far as it touches the question of -womanhood, it has a peculiar interest for us. - -The political aspect of the woman’s question will not detain us for one -moment, save to note in passing that it is at least as old as Attic -Drama. We have little clue to the political significance, if any, of the -many references to the status of women which are to be found in the -plays of Euripides; and it does not matter. The broad fact is clear, -that the poet was profoundly interested in womanhood: that he had -studied feminine character with care and sympathy; and that he felt and -strove to reveal something of the evil which must result to the race -when the woman is treated unjustly. Hence we have the _Troades_, a drama -which looks steadily at the horrors of war from the standpoint of the -women who suffer because of it. Hence too, there is an Iphigenia -exerting all the energies of an acute mind to rescue her brother from -imminent danger; a Medea, transformed from a tender mother into a -destroying Fury by Jason’s infidelity; a Phædra literally consumed by -love which she will not declare; and an Alcestis, type of enduring -feminine courage, placed side by side with the weak amiability of -Admetus. - -The character of Admetus is of some importance in the story we are now -to consider, and hence has received a great deal of attention. It has -been interpreted variously. On the one hand he is made to appear -improbably base, a poltroon who was not only willing that his wife -should die in his stead, but who hurried her to the tomb with indecent -haste, to avoid the awkward questions of her relatives. On the other -hand, he is shown as incredibly virtuous, a man whom the gods delighted -to honour—with this doubtful gift of life at another’s cost—and who -could not, from very piety, refuse it. But the Admetus of Euripides is -not found in either of these two extremes. He is a much more real figure -poised somewhere along a middle line between the two; an average man, -compounded of good and bad: a warm friend, a tender husband, generously -hospitable and of evident charm of nature; but with a fatal weakness of -will. Thus, in the common level which the balance shows, he is much more -convincing as a man, and for the purpose of the dramatist, an excellent -foil to his heroic wife. - -In the lovely poem by William Morris on this subject, there is a picture -of King Admetus which glows with just the charm that such a nature might -possess. The poem, which is called _The Love of Alcestis_, relates that -part of the legend which precedes the climax treated by Euripides. It -tells of the coming of the god Apollo to Thessaly, to serve as an -unknown herdsman to Admetus, King of Pheræ, for nine long years; of -Admetus’ wooing of the young daughter of Pelias, King of Iolchos, and of -the impossible condition (fulfilled, however, by the divine herdsman’s -aid) that whoever would wed with Alcestis must fetch her for her bridal -in a chariot drawn by a lion and a boar. It tells, too, of the god’s -help in foiling the spells of Artemis over the bride; of the happy -wedded life; and of the departure of Apollo, leaving with the royal -couple what seemed at first a priceless boon—the promise that when -Admetus came to die, another life should be accepted by the Fates in his -stead. - -This is the man whose gracious serenity first won the love of the god -when, banished from Olympus, he came to serve as a thrall: - - _Young, strong, and godlike, lacking naught at all - Of gifts that unto royal men might fall - In those old simple days.... - ... Little like a king, - As we call kings, but glad with everything, - The wise Thessalian sat and blessed his life, - So free from sickening fear and foolish strife._[28] - -He stretched an eager hand to the young stranger who knelt at his feet, -begging hospitality, and promising rich rewards. - - _“Rise up, and be my guest,” Admetus said. - “I need no gifts for this poor gift of bread, - The land is wide and bountiful enow.”_[28] - -From that moment, there was a tender comradeship between the king and -his new herdsman, which only grew stronger with time. Now and then, -strange tokens made Admetus wonder about his guest’s identity; but he -refrained from questioning him, and it was not until the last day of the -appointed service that the revelation came. The king’s sweet bride had -been won ere then; brought home to Pheræ in an ivory chariot which the -stranger had marvellously provided, drawn by a lion and a boar; and the -circle of their happiness seemed complete. But one soft evening when the -sun was sinking, the herdsman drew the king out of the palace; and -together they climbed the hill to watch the sun go down. There fell on -Admetus a sense of sadness, and soon he was aware of a wonderful change -in the figure at his side. He dared not raise his eyes, for he was -conscious of glory which might not be looked upon. Awe filled him, and -now he knew the meaning of his sadness. This mysterious guest who had -been so strong and wise and kind a friend, was leaving him. As he stood -trembling, in dread and sorrow, the dear voice that he loved fell on his -ear once more, thrilling him with its music: - - “_Fear not! I love thee ... - And now my servitude with thee is done, - And I shall leave thee toiling on thine earth, - This handful, that within its little girth - Holds that which moves you so, O men that die; - Behold, to-day thou hast felicity, - But the times change, and I can see a day - When all thine happiness shall fade away; - And yet, be merry, strive not with the end, - Thou canst not change it; for the rest, a friend - This year hath won thee who shall never fail._”[28] - -It is on this note of divine favour that the _Alcestis_ of Euripides -opens. In the golden interval since Apollo took his flight from Pheræ -toward the setting sun, life had sped joyously for Admetus and his -lovely queen. The hint of ill to come which had dropped from the god’s -lips was to the king but a fleck on a fair horizon, the measure of pain -that every man must bear—some day. But it was too remote for present -heeding. Why fret away the day of youth because of sorrow and death that -must come to all alike at the end? So he lived merrily, as the god had -counselled, his fruitful land at peace with all the world, and his doors -flung wide to the stranger and the suppliant. The little cloud was quite -forgotten. - -Alcestis was happy too, with a difference. Deep under the bright surface -of her life, the warning of the god lay hidden. It never rose to disturb -her husband’s boyish gaiety, nor to trouble with its shadow the sunny -eyes of her little ones. But it was not lulled to sleep. Alcestis could -not palter with reality. In quiet times the black thing was called up -from its hiding place, and faced and fought. There was many an hour of -anguish before it was finally conquered, since youth and beauty and -happiness are precious. But from the moment when Alcestis learned that -love was greater than them all—when she pledged her soul to take upon -herself the evil that was coming to her husband, life grew calm and fair -again. There was little outward sign to mark the struggle: only a gentle -gravity crept into her sweetness, and her voice grew tenderer still to -husband and to babes. And she too clutched the hope, since she was human -after all, that the thing she feared was still far away. - -Very soon, however, and with bewildering suddenness, the little cloud -gathered into storm. The fiat went out from the Moiræ that Admetus was -to die—now, in the glory of youth and strength, a goodly prize to enrich -the House of Hades. One favour only they would grant, at the -supplication of Apollo for his mortal friend—that the king might live if -father or mother or wife would consent to die for him. Admetus, -unprepared for an ordeal which must shake so slight a nature to its -roots; and with all his kindly social virtues rent by the shock, forgot -his manhood. The old people clung feverishly to their remnant of dear -life; and Alcestis knew that this was the moment when the compact that -she had made with her own soul must be ratified to the powers below. She -gave her word to the Fates that she would die for her husband. - -Now the appointed day has come; and before the palace of Admetus a grim -contest is in progress. Guarding the door with his splendid presence is -the great Sun-god himself, making a last stand against Hades, lord of -the dead, who has come in person from the Underworld to claim his -victim. He may not use force against this shadowy king; but with all the -strength of persuasion he pleads for Alcestis’ life. “My heart is heavy -for my friend’s mischance,” he says; and tries to touch the obdurate -spirit by the thought of this noble wife’s youth and goodness. But Death -will yield no jot to his entreaty; and as Apollo reluctantly gives place -to him, vanquished for the moment, he flings a threat at the great -Enemy. - - “_Surely thou shalt forbear, though ruthless thou, - So mighty a man to Pheres’ halls shall come, - Sent of Eurystheus forth, the courser-car - From winter-dreary lands of Thrace to bring. - Guest-welcomed in Admetus’ palace here, - By force yon woman shall he wrest from thee. - Yea, thou of me shalt have no thank for this, - And yet shalt do it, and shalt have mine hate._“[29] - -The prophecy contains a gleam of wild hope; but Death passes on -unheeding, and there gather slowly before the doors the friends who have -been summoned to mourn for the dying queen. They are awed by the hush -that lies upon the house, and hardly know how to interpret it. Perhaps -it means that Alcestis is already dead, they conjecture; and that the -funeral train has left the palace. Yet this can hardly be. - - _Would the king without pomp of procession have yielded the Grave the - possession - Of so dear, of so faithful an one?_[29] - -No, they would rather surmise that Alcestis is living still; and as one -of the queen’s maids comes out, they beg eagerly for news. The girl -tells them through tears that her mistress does indeed still live, but -that the end is very near. Even now, in quiet courage, the queen is -performing all the needful rites. - - _For when she knew that the appointed day - Was come, in river-water her white skin - She bathed, and from the cedar chests took forth - Vesture and jewels, and decked her gloriously, - And stood before the hearth and prayed.... - To all the altars through Admetus’ halls - She went, with wreaths she hung them, and she prayed, - Plucking the while the tresses of the myrtle, - Tearless, unsighing, and the imminent fate - Changed not the lovely rose-tint of her cheek. - Then to her bower she rushed, fell on the bed, - And there, O there she wept.... - And the babes clinging to their mother’s robes - Were weeping: and she clasped them in her arms, - Fondling now this, now that, as one death-doomed. - And all the servants ‘neath the roof were weeping, - Pitying their lady. But to each she stretched - Her right hand forth; and none there was so mean - To whom she spake not and received reply._[29] - -The maid goes on to tell of Admetus’ grief. Clasping his wife in his -arms, he begs her not to leave him. But she is growing rapidly weaker, -and his entreaties hardly pierce the darkness that is settling down on -mind and body. She craves for air and light, just to look once more on -the glorious sun, and feel the breath of heaven. As Admetus carries her -out, followed by their two young children, she utters one bitter cry of -regret for all the beauty that she must leave: - - “_O Sun, and the day’s dear light, - And ye clouds through the wheeling heaven in the race everlasting - flying!... - O Land, O stately height - Of mine halls, and my bridal couch in Iolkos my fatherland lying!_“[29] - -Then the presence of imminent death rises on her fading sight. She sees -the sinister Ferryman Charon beckoning with impatient finger, and she -hears him calling her to hasten. - - “_Hades is near, and the night - Is darkening down on my sight. - Darlings, farewell: on the light - Long may ye look:—I have blessed ye - Ere your mother to nothingness fleet._“[29] - -There has been no word of farewell to Admetus yet; and now she gathers -strength for the last thing that must be said to him. Perhaps she has -been waiting, all through his evident grief and broken words of -devotion, for some hint of awakening to a nobler spirit. Perhaps she has -longed, in hope that she knew to be vain, for one word of remorse, one -flash of protest, though it were too late, against the sacrifice that -she is making. But Admetus gives no sign; he is absorbed in his own -suffering; and we seem to hear, all through the solemn charge which the -dying lips lay upon him, a note of pain. - - - “_Admetus—for thou seest all my plight— - Fain would I speak mine heart’s wish, ere I die. - I, honouring thee, and setting thee in place - Before mine own soul still to see this light, - Am dying, unconstrained to die for thee.... - Yet she that bare, he that begat, forsook thee, - Though fair for death their time of life was come, - Yea, fair to save their son and die renowned. - ... For these thy babes thou lovest - No less than I, if that thy heart be right, - Suffer that they have lordship in mine home: - Wed not a stepdame to supplant our babes, - Whose heart shall tell her she is no Alcestis, - Whose jealous hand shall smite them, thine and mine.... - For I must die, nor shall it be to morn, - Nor on the third day comes on me this bane, - Straightway of them that are not shall I be. - Farewell, be happy. Now for thee, my lord, - Abides the boast to have won the noblest wife, - For you, my babes, to have sprung from noblest mother._“[29] - -Admetus promises all, and more, than she asks. He will never wed again, -but will mourn her always. There shall be no more revelry in Pheræ; he -will not touch his lyre again, nor sing. Her death has robbed his life -of mirth; and all his longing will be to come to her. - - “_Yet there look thou for me whenso I die: - Prepare a home, as who shall dwell with me. - For in the selfsame cedar-chest, wherein - Thou liest, will I bid them lay my bones - Outstretched beside thee: ne’er may I be severed, - No, not in death, from thee, my one true friend._“[29] - -The eager protestations bring some comfort to her passing spirit, and -she tenderly commends the children to him. Then: - -ALCES. _Dark—dark—mine eyes are drooping, heavy-laden._ - -ADMET. _O, I am lost if thou wilt leave me, wife!_ - -ALCES. _No more—I am no more...._ - - _Farewell._[29] - -Amid the wailing of her children, and the mournful chant of the Chorus, -the body of Alcestis is carried into the house, Admetus following to -prepare the funeral rites. - -The scene then quickly changes, lifting the gloom of death for a moment. -The mourning ode rises, in vague sweet longing for power to bring -Alcestis back from the grave. And hardly has it ceased when there -arrives at the palace, claiming hospitality in cheery confidence, -Heracles the hero of many toils, and the destined deliverer of Alcestis. -He is a creature of immense interest to the people gathered around the -doors, for are not his valour and endurance known and marvelled at -throughout the whole of Greece? He is weary with travel, but he hails -them blithely, asking for the king; and when they ply him with -questions, he tells all his errand with free good-nature. His -taskmaster, Eurystheus King of Tiryns, has laid yet another labour upon -him, harder and more perilous than all the rest. He is commanded to go -to wintry Thrace, the land of the Bistones, and capture from King -Diomedes there the fierce man-eating mares that draw his chariot. The -Chorus, enthralled by his story, remind him of the prowess of the man -whom he must conquer, and that he is descended from the God of War -himself. But the hero replies that he will not shrink from the task; -only, as he has already come far upon his journey, he needs rest and -refreshment first. He comes unhesitatingly to his friend Admetus, -knowing from of old his unfailing hospitality; and there is about the -hero such a glow of exuberant life and strength, his history and his -present adventure are things so fascinating to his hearers, that they -have for the moment completely forgotten the sorrow that weighs upon -their royal master. No single word of it has been uttered when Admetus -himself, apprised of his friend’s arrival, comes out of the palace to -welcome him. - -An embarrassed silence falls upon the mourners. They know that they -should have made known to Heracles at once the calamity which had -befallen Pheræ in the loss of their queen. Then he could have sought the -bounty of some other house, and the grief of their king need not have -been intruded upon. But while they have been lost in eager talk, an -attendant has called Admetus; and on him now will fall the cruel pain of -announcing the death of his wife and—what will be even worse—of -declining hospitality to his friend. They stand in suspense as Heracles, -after the first greeting is over, exclaims in astonishment at the signs -of mourning that Admetus is wearing. But as it quickly becomes evident -that the king is evading the questions of his guest and does not intend -to reveal to him the nature of the grief that has fallen on his home, -their suspense is turned to wonder and carping. Heracles asks anxiously -about children and parents and wife, even touching upon the far-famed -vow of Alcestis to die for her husband. But every question is -successfully parried by the king; and the guest is at last prevailed -upon to enter the house, believing that only some distant kinswoman is -dead, for whom perfunctory mourning and formal rites are in progress. -The sense of propriety in these conventional old men is roughly shaken: -they cannot see that the magnitude of the king’s sorrow has dwarfed the -petty things of use and custom. Only great things remain—love and duty -pre-eminent; and Admetus knows that his dear dead would not grudge this -imperative present task. So, when the senators complain of his action, -he gives them a simple answer: - - “_But had I driven him from my home and city - Who came my guest, then hadst thou praised me more? - Nay, sooth; for mine affliction so had grown - No less, and more inhospitable I; - And to my ills were added this beside, - That this my home were called ‘Guest-hating Hall.’ - Yea, and myself have proved him kindliest host - Whene’er to Argos’ thirsty plain I fared._“[29] - -But now there comes in sight a procession bearing burial gifts, headed -by the old parents of the king. At their entrance there is an abrupt -change of tone, a descent from the ideal standpoint, and a violent clash -of character which make for acrid realism in the scene which follows. It -is one of mutual recrimination between father and son, each blaming the -other for the cowardice which the onlooker can perceive in both. As the -procession halts before his door, Admetus drops to the dead level of -existence from the height of great emotion. He hates the formal troop of -mourners: the gifts by which they seek to honour the peerless spirit of -his wife: the trite phrases of consolation which are belied in the -uttering by the hardness of voice and eye. He hates the very presence of -his father, reminding him, as it does, that they both of them alike have -cowered for safety under the sacrifice of a woman. And when, in the -selfishness of an unlovely old age, Pheres praises the act of Alcestis -because it leaves him the protection of his son, the wrath and shame in -the heart of Admetus break out into unreasonable railing against his -father. - - “_Thou grieve!—Thou shouldst have grieved in my death hour! - Thou stoodst aloof—the old, didst leave the young - To die:—and wilt thou wail upon this corpse?_“[29] - -The retort is obvious, and pointed with caustic truth: Pheres does not -spare his son, and although there is fierce malignance in his speech, -there is justice in it too. - - “_Shamelessly thou hast fought against thy death: - Thy life is but transgression of thy doom, - And murder of thy wife._“[29] - -The torrent of scorn that he pours upon Admetus: the merciless exposure -of his timidity, the gibes at his base love of life, cannot but sweep -away the moorings which held the king to his self-respect. But pride and -anger struggle fiercely against humiliation; and the unseemly quarrel -rages on, despite voices interposed in a vain effort at conciliation, -until the funeral train emerges from the palace. Then father and son, -shamed to silence, follow the body of Alcestis to its burial, while the -Chorus chants: - - “_Alas for the loving and daring! - Farewell to the noblest and best! - May Hermes conduct thee down-faring - Kindly, and Hades to rest - Receive thee! If any atonement - For ills even there may betide - To the good, O thine be enthronement - By Hades’ bride._“[29] - -Meantime Heracles, with mind at perfect ease concerning the fortunes of -his host, had been feasting and making merry within the palace. Rooms -apart had been assigned to him; precautions had been taken that he -should not be disturbed by the sounds of mourning, and the servants had -been warned not to betray to him what was passing. So in all good faith -he had given himself up to jollity, scandalizing the man who waited on -him until the honest fellow could bear it no longer, and flung himself -sulkily out of the house. He is followed soon by Heracles himself, who -cannot comprehend the reason for the servant’s gloom and chides him -good-humouredly. Why such excessive grief for a woman alien-born? he -asks. Surely such sullen service is not worthy either of master or of -guest. - -At first the man is reticent, fearing to offend the king. But pressed by -Heracles, he presently reveals that it is not a stranger who is dead, -but the queen herself; and that even now the funeral train is returning -from the grave. - -Heracles is overwhelmed with sorrow for his friend and contrition for -his own untimely revelling. For a few moments he stands heaping -reproaches on himself, and on the servants for their silence; but he is -not long inactive. The generosity of Admetus fires his own heart; and -his thought leaps impetuously to an act of tremendous daring. He will -face the power of Death himself, and wrest Alcestis from him. He puts -rapid questions to the man concerning the place of burial, calls up -every resource of energy and endurance, and nerves himself for his grim -task by a determination to requite Admetus worthily. - - “_... I must save the woman newly dead, - And set Alcestis in this house again, - And render to Admetus good for good. - I go. The sable-vestured King of Corpses, - Death, will I watch for, and shall find, I trow, - Drinking the death-draught hard beside the tomb. - ... I doubt not I shall lead - Alcestis up, and give to mine host’s hands, - Who to his halls received, nor drave me thence, - Albeit smitten with affliction sore, - But did it, like a prince, respecting me._“[29] - -[Illustration: - - HERCULES’ STRUGGLE WITH DEATH FOR ALCESTIS - - _Lord Leighton_ - - _By permission of the Fine Art Society, Ltd._ -] - -As Heracles departs in search of Alcestis’ tomb, the mourners are seen -approaching, led by Admetus, alone. A profound change has come upon the -king. His ignoble anger has vanished: no word more is heard of the -petulant reproach of his parents: nothing of the old arrogant claim on -life which had blinded his soul and hardened his heart. Humbled now, and -remorseful, he sees that death were infinitely preferable to life at the -price that he has paid. Something had given him sight as he stood beside -Alcestis’ tomb. He had tried to cast himself down to die beside her; but -friends had restrained him, and now as he stands before the home that he -dare not enter, he makes a pitiful confession— - - “_Friends, I account the fortune of my wife - Happier than mine, albeit it seems not so. - For nought of grief shall touch her any more, - And glorious rest she finds from many toils. - But I, unmeet to live, my doom outrun, - Shall drag out bitter days: I know it now. - How shall I bear to enter this my home?_“[29] - -The bystanders try to persuade him to go in, but he lingers through the -beautiful choral ode that is raised in praise of Alcestis. They sing of -the worship and honour that will be paid at her tomb as at a shrine; and -as the long hymn is drawing to a close, Heracles is seen to be -returning, leading a woman closely veiled. The king, standing in quiet -despair, utters no word of greeting to his guest, and the Chorus wait in -silent wonder for an explanation. A strange awe falls upon them; and -Heracles, beginning in gentle gravity to reproach the king for want of -confidence in him, turns presently to the veiled figure at his side. -Will the king take and guard this maid for him, until he shall return -from Thrace? She is a prize awarded him for great toil, and Admetus will -do well to care for her. - -But the king recoils at the thought. How can he receive a young and -beautiful woman into his house without pain to himself and shame to her? -He protests that it is unthinkable, and begs Heracles to take her -elsewhere. She would be a constant reminder of his grief, and an insult -to the memory of his wife. Until this moment he has hardly glanced at -the silent figure by the hero’s side, except to notice that her rich -vestments proclaim her young. But something in her appearance seizes his -attention; and he proceeds, rapidly and in great agitation: - - “_But, woman, thou, - Whoso thou art, know that thy body’s stature - Is as Alcestis, and thy form as hers. - Ah me!—lead, for the Gods’ sake, from my sight - This woman!—Take not my captivity captive. - For as I look on her, methinks I see - My wife. She stirs my heart with turmoil: fountains - Of tears burst from mine eyes. O wretched I! - Now taste I first this grief’s full bitterness._“[29] - -It is Alcestis’ very self, won back from death as Apollo had promised; -but with the awful silence of the tomb still upon her. Heracles places -her hand in that of the reluctant and incredulous king, while he draws -aside her veil: - - “_Yea, guard her. Thou shalt call - The child of Zeus one day a noble guest. - Look on her, if in aught she seems to thee - Like to thy wife. Step forth from grief to bliss._“[29] - ------ - -Footnote 28: - - From _The Life and Death of Jason_, by William Morris (Longmans). - -Footnote 29: - - From the _Alcestis_ of Euripides, translated by Dr. A. S. Way (Loeb - Classical Library: London, Heinemann). - - - - -_Euripides: Medea_ - - -Only eighteen dramas are extant of the seventy-five which Euripides is -known to have written. And an interesting small fact is that the two -earliest of these surviving dramas are the _Alcestis_ and the _Medea_, -produced respectively in 438 B.C. and 431 B.C. Each of the two has a -woman for the protagonist, and both have love for their central theme. -To that extent therefore they are similar, and represent certain clear -features of Euripidean drama as a whole. - -We have already noted the poet’s interest in womanhood: his keen and -careful study of feminine character. He was no less occupied with the -influence of love in human life; but on both themes he was clear-eyed -and penetrative, aspiring always to the ‘white star of truth.’ Therefore -we do not find in his drama a troop of faultless women, moving in an -atmosphere of romantic glamour; nor a treatment of love which reveals -only the more beautiful aspects of it. He seems to have been content to -acknowledge, as for instance in the _Alcestis_ and the lost _Andromeda_, -that life’s flowers do sometimes, given the right conditions, come to -fair fruition. But he saw how often they are warped and blighted; and -though he would not hide the grimmer facts, he was always careful to -seek and show the cause of the aberration. Hence, though the truth of -his presentation is sometimes merciless, and may have given colour to -the contemporary gossip which called him a ‘woman-hater,’ one glance -below the surface of his thought shows him to have been inspired by a -nobler chivalry than that which is content to veil the facts of life in -romantic illusion. So we find that although both the _Alcestis_ and the -_Medea_ are preoccupied with the theme of love, there is a vivid -contrast in the treatment of the theme, despite certain resemblances -between the two dramas. It is true that both of the heroines are -pre-eminent in devotion to the men with whom they are mated; and that -the hero in each case moves on a plane from which he cannot reach the -height of his wife’s spirit. But whilst on the one hand love takes -possession of a gentle nature, and favoured by every circumstance of -character and environment triumphs over death itself, in the case of -Medea a wild soul spends itself recklessly for the object of its love, -beats impotently against injustice, loses hold on sanity and sweet human -ties, and is transformed into an avenging fury. - -The story of Medea belongs to the old Argo legend, which was made into -poetry by Apollonius Rhodius in the first century before Christ, and by -our own Victorian poet Morris in _The Life and Death of Jason_. - -Jason, the exiled heir to the throne of Iolchos, was reared by the -centaur Chiron. Arrived at manhood, he determined to claim his right -from his usurping uncle Pelias; and travelling to Iolchos on foot, he -presented himself before the king minus a sandal. Now Pelias had been -warned against a man who should come to him with one foot bare; and, -moreover, he had no intention of yielding up the throne to his nephew. -He therefore cast about for some means of ridding himself of Jason, and -hit upon the plan of sending him on a wild and dangerous quest—to seek -and bring the Golden Fleece from the barbarous land of Colchis. Jason -gladly undertook the task: gathered the Greek heroes together and sailed -with them in the good ship _Argo_. - -After a perilous voyage, the heroes arrived at Colchis, and Jason made -known their quest to the king Aeêtes. But they soon found that they had -no hope of success. Aeêtes was false to them, made impossible -conditions, and plotted against their life. Disaster seemed imminent, -when there came a deliverance so glorious that it seemed like the -interposition of a god. It was the quick wit of a girl, prompted by -love. Medea, the young daughter of Aeêtes, had seen and loved the brave -Greek prince whom her father now plotted to destroy. She was an ardent -and impulsive creature; and she determined to save Jason. By the magic -lore that she possessed, she secretly enabled him to overcome the -fire-breathing oxen, and the earth-sown army that her father sent -against him. Then, realizing too late that she had incurred the -unpitying rage of her father, she fled at night from the palace, to take -refuge with the Greek heroes. - - _She kissed her bed, and her hands on the walls with loving caress - Lingered; she kissed the posts of the doors; and one long tress - She severed, and left it her bower within, for her mother to be - A memorial of maidenhood’s days, and with passionate voice moaned - she._[30] - -Under cover of the darkness, she led Jason to the forest-precinct where -the Fleece was hidden; and by her charms she lulled the sleepless dragon -that guarded it. She even betrayed to him her brother Absyrtus, driven -by the danger of a horrible death for herself, her lover and his -comrades; and then, claiming from Jason a solemn oath of marriage when -they should come to Hellas, she sailed with him on the _Argo_. Aeêtes -pursued them in fierce wrath; and the gods, offended for the murder of -Absyrtus, vexed them with storms. But at length they came to the island -of Circe; and she, for the sake of her kinship with Medea, purified them -of the murder of Absyrtus and set them on their way again. At Phæacia, -where they were driven for harbourage, Aeêtes overtook them, threatening -war with King Alcinous if he did not yield up his fugitive daughter. It -was then that the great wise queen Arete pleaded for Medea in gentle -charity: - - “_In madness she sinned at the first, when she gave him the charm that - should tame - The bulls; and with wrong to amend that wrong,—Ay, oftimes the same - In our sinning we do!—she straightway essayed; and shrinking in fear - From her proud sire’s tyrannous wrath, she fled. Now the man, as I hear, - This Jason, is hound by mighty oaths which his own lips said, - When he pledged him to make her, his halls within, his wife - true-wed._“[30] - -Alcinous yielded to his wife’s entreaties on one condition—that Jason -and Medea should be married forthwith; for then he could return answer -to Aeêtes that he would not separate husband and wife. Thus the two were -hurriedly wedded; and sailed in safety from Phæacia, to encounter many a -terrible adventure before they reached Iolchos at last, triumphing in -the possession of the Fleece. They gained great glory from their -enterprise, but little else. For Pelias would not yield the throne to -Jason; and it seemed to Medea that all she had wrought had been in vain. -She brooded over Jason’s wrongs, chafing at the restraint imposed on her -in her new life, and eager to strike for the kingship on his behalf. At -last she evolved a plan by which she thought Pelias might be removed -from their path, and the throne secured for Jason. Promising the old -king renewed youth by means of her enchantments, she induced him to -submit to death at the hands of his daughters. Then, in the storm of -indignation which arose against her, she and Jason and their two young -children fled to Corinth. - -So the legend runs to the point where Euripides takes it up. In crude -outline it is savage and incredible; and yet it contains all the -elements which in the hands of idealistic poets have made a story of -enthralling romantic beauty. In the _Medea_, however, the poet has -avoided so far as might be both the barbarity of the legend and its -potential charm. He has treated only the final catastrophe—the -abandonment of Medea by Jason and her dreadful vengeance upon him. And -although he could not escape from the data: although he is compelled to -handle some of the most barbarous of them, he has translated them from -terms of glimmering wonder and breathless excitement into the language -of reality. He has brought Medea out of the region of myth, where she -dwelt in eerie and tempestuous beauty, into the stream of human -existence. The marvellous and the superhuman drop away, save for a -fragment or two in the framework of the Drama; and Medea becomes simply -a woman, struggling against her own wild heart and the injustice of her -oppressors. - -The Drama opens with the monologue of Medea’s old nurse, from which we -learn all that is vital to an understanding of the action. Jason has -forsaken Medea and is about to marry with Glaucé, the young daughter of -Creon, King of Corinth. Medea is sick with misery and is lying in the -house prostrate on her bed. Two things the old woman makes quite clear, -as she stands talking outside: that the chief cause of Medea’s grief is -shame at her betrayal; and that already the storm of passion is tending -toward madness. When an attendant comes in, bringing Jason’s children -back from their play, there is a clear hint of the catastrophe. The man -tells of a rumour that he has heard: Creon has ordered the banishment of -their mistress and her boys. The nurse breaks into a wail of -commiseration, and then clearly states her fear for the effect of this -new wrong upon Medea’s mind. She sends the little ones in before she -speaks the dread she has that their mother may lift her hand against -their lives; and almost immediately afterward the frenzied voice of -Medea is heard, calling bitter curses upon her unfathered children. - -There gather gradually the ladies of Corinth who form the Chorus. They -are deeply sympathetic; and they give pitying answers to the nurse’s -tale; while within the house, at intervals, Medea’s voice is heard, -wailing her grief and anger, and the old remorse that has reawakened for -her brother’s death. - - “_Virgin of Righteousness, - Virgin of hallowed Troth, - Ye marked me when with an oath - I bound him; mark no less - That oath’s end. Give me to see - Him and his bride, who sought - My grief when I wronged her not, - Broken in misery, - And all her house._“[31] - -The scene is one of weird impressiveness. So far, Medea has not -appeared; but her cries within the house, the appearance of her -children, the indignant fidelity of the old servants, the beautiful -lyrics of the Chorus, and, above all, the knowledge we possess that -another blow is about to fall on her, produce a cumulative effect which -makes the moment of her entrance intensely dramatic. Yet she begins her -speech quietly, almost in apology for her former unrestraint. She -strives for self-control while she puts her case before the Corinthian -women and begs their help. For a moment or two she succeeds, -pathetically acknowledging her foreign birth and the flaw it intrudes in -the legality of her marriage. But at this thought, emotion sweeps over -her again: - - “_...I dazzle where I stand, - The cup of all life shattered in my hand, - Longing to die—O friends! He, even he, - Whom to know well was all the world to me, - The man I loved, hath proved most evil._“[31] - -She pours out her heart to the listeners; and it is not a mere selfish -recital of her own sorrow. The brain that had been clear and quick to -save her lover in the extremity of danger has not lost its power. She -sees the base act of Jason in its broad aspect, as a wrong to womankind; -and she rises from the contemplation of her personal suffering to the -thought that this, after all, is but one of the many evils that -subjection brings upon women. But the greatest evil—the helpless -creature goaded to crime by injustice—is present to her at this moment -only as a blind craving for revenge. It will seize and carry her on to -its culmination as the sweetest thing that life now holds; but it will -finally reveal itself, since she cannot but face the truth, as the last -and deepest wrong, that has cancelled her humanity. The light of that -thought has not yet dawned; and will not until the storm of passion has -wrought sheer havoc. All her fervent nature is possessed by the idea of -vengeance; and seeing that her friends pity and sympathize, she pledges -them not to betray her. Their willing promise is only just in time, for -they are interrupted by the arrival of the king, guarded by armed -attendants whose very presence is a menace. Creon is old, and has grown -hard and tyrannous with age. He has long desired a great match for his -only daughter, hoping to see his line established on the throne of -Corinth before his death. To him the marriage with the Argonaut hero is -not only a prudent step, likely to bring him reflected glory; but a -thing perfectly right in itself, because perfectly legal. By the letter -of the law, which forbade a Greek to marry a ‘barbarian,’ Medea was not -Jason’s wife; and the letter of the law merely was of concern to Creon. -To him Medea was an uncivilized creature from outland parts: a being -without rights, who might safely be ignored; and having won over Jason, -the match was arranged and the preliminary formalities concluded. Not -until a rumour reached him that Medea in her wrath had solemnly cursed -his child and him, did any thought of her disturb him. Then, fearing -that she might indeed do his daughter some injury, or at the least might -move public opinion in her favour, he determined upon instant banishment -for her and her two young sons. Without a word to soften or explain his -action, he stands before Medea now, and curtly orders her to prepare for -departure. - -The blow is so crushing that for a moment Medea seems to sink under it; -she can think of nothing but to ask what crime of hers has merited this -punishment. But when Creon cynically replies that there has been no -crime, and that the measure is one of precaution merely, to guard -himself against her reputation for magic-lore, she rallies her wit and -meets him on his own ground. Half ironically, she repudiates the damning -possession of brains, and bids him set his mind at rest. - - “_’Tis not the first nor second time, O King, - That fame hath hurt me.... - Come unto fools with knowledge of new things, - They deem it vanity, not knowledge.... - Ah, I am not so wondrous wise!—And now, - To thee, I am terrible! What fearest thou? - What dire deed? Do I tread so proud a path— - Fear me not thou!—that I should brave the wrath - Of princes?_“[31] - -Creon sees that she is trying to placate him, and harshly repeats his -decree. He even threatens her, when she continues her entreaties, with -force from his soldiery; and Medea, shrinking in horror from the thought -of personal violence, instantly ceases her petition. She pretends to -yield; and in feigned humility, begs on her knees for one day’s respite. -Creon, partly deceived, and entirely convinced that she can do no harm -in so short a time, reluctantly consents. But he has hardly gone when -Medea breaks into a torrent of speech which, in its fierce exultation -over Creon, its wild leap to the height of daring and its rallying cry -to her own spirit, comes very near to madness. All the shapeless -thoughts of vengeance on which she had brooded spring into vivid life as -she rapidly cons now this plot, now that, to reach her end. Of the end -itself there can be no doubt; she must kill these three—the king, and -Jason and his bride—in the few hours left to her. And for this she will -need every resource of strategy and courage. - - “_Awake thee now, Medea! Whatso plot - Thou hast, or cunning, strive and falter not. - On to the peril-point! Now comes the strain - Of daring. Shall they trample thee again?_“[31] - -No wonder that the Chorus sing, as she rushes into the house, of a -strange reversal of all the order of nature; of woman made terrible -because man has forgotten God. They take up the story of Medea’s broken -life: of the wonder and the pity of it: of her distant home: of her -surpassing love for Jason, and of her betrayal. In the beauty and grace -of the songs the emotional strain is lightened: but they have a further -purpose. For while they tell the old story over in tender phrases, Jason -himself enters and Medea again comes out of the house. The two stand -face to face at last and the crux of the drama is reached. Jason is the -first to speak; and one feels all the spirit of the man in his opening -words—cold, ambitious, prudent, with ideals faded and every generous -emotion dead. He protests that he has acted from motives of policy and -considerations of their best interest: for the welfare of Medea and -their children as well as for himself. The new marriage was the only -way, in a land to which they were strangers, to secure a home for them -all, and princely connexions for his sons. But Medea has spoiled -everything by her ungovernable anger: and he has come, since nothing -else is possible now, to make provision for the children in their exile. - -The speech is clear, terse, moderate in tone, and pitilessly logical -from Jason’s point of view. From that point, too, it is not unkind: he -wishes to do what may be done to soften their lot. But to the woman who -loves him his words are a mere blur of sound, the logic meaningless, the -untroubled manner a thing of contempt. In tone and look and gesture one -fact is certain—that her husband has ceased to love her, and is content -to cast her off. It has clamoured in her ears while he spoke, drowning -every other sound; and when she replies it is that which prompts her. It -inspires her great indictment—the case for the woman against injustice -throughout all time—and it evokes a shuddering recoil from baseness -which she feels to be literally a pollution. - - “_Evil—most Evil ... - I will begin with that, ‘twixt me and thee, - That first befell. I saved thee. I saved thee— - ... And hast thou then - Accepted all—O evil yet again!— - And cast me off and taken for thy bride - Another? And with children at thy side! - ... Is sworn faith so low - And weak a thing? I understand it not. - Are the old gods dead? Are the old laws forgot, - And new laws made? ... - ... O great God, shall gold withal - Bear thy clear mark, to sift the base and fine, - And o’er man’s living visage runs no sign - To show the lie within, ere all too late?_“[31] - -Jason’s anger is stung by her denunciation, but his purpose is quite -unmoved. He flings a veiled insult at her love; and as he elaborates the -reasons for his action, with no little skill and plausibility, we feel -that with every word the conflict becomes more deadly. In apparent good -faith, but with intolerable effrontery to the injured woman, he claims -to have repaid that old debt, if indeed it were a debt. He has given her -a home in an ordered country and her name has been linked in the glory -of his. As to the marriage with Glaucé—with a sneer at the bare idea of -sentiment—the affair is a bargain, with consideration given and received -on each side. Let Medea look at the matter for one instant with the eyes -of reason, and she herself will acknowledge that he has acted wisely. - -But the very root of the tragedy lay there. Medea could no more detach -herself from the emotion that possessed her than Jason could revive the -tenderness that filled him when he lifted the sweet wild fugitive on -board the _Argo_. So they stand, typifying the eternal struggle between -the passionate heart and the arrogant brain; and striking at each other -in baffled rage across the gulf between them. Jason makes one last offer -of help, but it is vehemently refused, and with a final thrust at -Medea’s savagery, he leaves her. When he has gone, the inevitable -reaction comes. The Chorus, interpreting her mood, sing musingly of the -pains of exile, and of her lonely state. She realizes that she has flung -away her only chance of help, and she sees herself in a few hours -expelled from Corinth without one friend to shelter her. Despair is -settling upon her when a curious incident occurs, suddenly reviving hope -and making the path clear for her revenge. It is the arrival of Ægeus, -King of Athens. He is travelling back from Apollo’s shrine at Delphi, -where he has been to renew an old petition that the god would give him -children. Medea, thinking rapidly, questions him of his errand. She sees -a possibility of succour; and putting all her wrongs before him, she -begs him to give her refuge at Athens. He shall not fail of a reward, -for she has magic arts which will secure to him his long desire for -children. Ægeus is indignant at her wrongs, and promises to succour her -if she comes to him; but knowing what she is about to do, she cunningly -extorts an oath from him. He gives it willingly, and as he departs Medea -breaks into a cry of exultation: - - “_God, and God’s Justice, and ye blinding Skies, - At last the victory dawneth!_“[31] - -[Illustration: - - MEDEA & ABSYRTUS - - _Herbert Draper_ - - _By permission of the Corporation Art Gallery of Bradford_ -] - -Quickly she lays her plan. She will recall Jason, feign repentance, and -send the children to the bride with gifts—marvellous raiment and jewels -which will hide under their beauty an agonizing death for Glaucé. But -that done—she pauses in horror, the sweetness of revenge dashed by the -thought of what must follow. Then, she must lift her hand to slay her -children, before they can be caught and killed for their mother’s crime. -There is a short altercation with the friendly women about her, who make -a futile effort to restrain her. But brushing aside their remonstrance, -she sends the nurse for Jason, and in a scene which vibrates with -dramatic power, she pretends to make peace with him, and puts the -frightful revenge in motion. Jason, completely deceived, promises that -the children shall be taken to Glaucé, to present their gifts and beg -for leave to stay in Corinth. But twice, as the little ones stand -waiting, the motherhood in Medea rebels against the fury that is driving -her. Tears that she cannot check rush into her eyes, and she almost -forgets her rôle, as she clasps them to her. - - “_Shall it be - A long time more, my children, that ye live - To reach to me those dear, dear arms? ... Forgive._“[31] - -And again when Jason, softened by her submission, is promising to lead -them up to an honoured manhood, a sudden movement of Medea arrests him. -He cannot understand her grief, and the strangeness of her manner; and -asks her if she doubts that he will act in good faith toward their -children. - -MEDEA. _I was their mother! When I heard thy prayer - Of long life for them, there swept over me - A horror, wondering how these things shall be._[31] - -But the gentler mood passes, and when Jason, with characteristic -canniness, counsels her not to send such precious gifts to his bride, -the spirit of vengeance has regained possession of her soul. She -overrules him, and Jason leads the children to the princess, carrying in -their innocent hands the weapon that will slay her. Not until they are -gone does Medea realize fully what the next step must be; and the -realization brings agony. She waits for their return in a storm of -emotion: suspense that almost stops the beating of her heart: hideous -hope that her plot has succeeded and that Glaucé even now is dying from -the poison; and ghastly fear that her children have been taken for the -deed. But when they return at last, in unconscious gladness that the -great lady has been kind to them, it is something more awful still that -robs their mother of power of utterance. The children’s tutor is amazed -at the grief that he sees is racking her, and asks its cause. - -MEDEA. _For bitter need, Old Man! The gods have willed, - And mine own evil mind, that this should come._[31] - -And as the man goes in, leaving her alone with her boys, a poignant -scene follows in which every instinct of her nature struggles against -her wrath. Their sweet young faces stir the tenderness that has hitherto -been bound within her; and as it floods her heart it seems for a few -moments to sweep away her evil purpose. But it only returns in added -strength, and as her soul writhes in the conflict, reason totters, and -she implores the vengeance within, as a living and implacable foe, to -spare her babes. Backward and forward she sways, driven by hatred and -love, until the scale is turned at last by the thought of her own -irrevocable act. Glaucé, even at this moment, is dying from the poison -that she has sent. - - “_Too late, too late! - By all Hell’s living agonies of hate, - They shall not take my little ones alive - To make their mock with! Howso’er I strive - The thing is doomed.... - Oh, darling hand! Oh, darling mouth, and eye, - And royal mien, and bright brave faces clear, - May you be blessèd, but not here! What here - Was yours, your father stole.... - ... I am broken by the wings - Of evil.... Yea, I know to what bad things - I go, but louder than all thought doth cry - Anger, which maketh man’s worst misery._“[31] - -But even yet she cannot strike: one thing more is needed to nerve her -hand, and it comes only too soon. A messenger is seen flying toward them -from the palace in frantic haste. As he comes within hail, he shouts to -Medea to flee—both Creon and the princess lie dead from the effects of -her poisoned gift, and she has not a moment to lose. Her own life will -surely be demanded for the crime. Medea remains immovable, smiling in -awful joy at the news. She makes the man relate every detail of the -ghastly scene in the palace; and for just so long as the story takes to -tell, she clasps revenge complete and satisfying. But a moment later the -thing has shrivelled in her hand; for there is now no hope to save her -children. - - “_Oh, up, and get thine armour on, - My heart!... - Take up thy sword, O poor right hand of mine, - Thy sword: then onward to the thin-drawn line - Where life turns agony._”[31] - -She goes into the house; and a moment later the shrieks of the children -are heard. They have hardly ceased when Jason rushes in, bent on -carrying off his sons before the king’s avengers can capture them. A -woman warns him of what is passing within; and as the agonized father -bursts open the door of the house, Medea appears on the roof, in the -dragon-chariot of the Sun, with the poor dead bodies lying at her feet. -There is something weird in this touch of the supernatural; but there is -something symbolic too. For Medea is a woman no longer: with her own -hand, driven by foul wrong and an untamed heart, she has cast humanity -away. - -We need not follow to the end the last clash of the two bitter spirits. -Jason pleads piteously for one poor boon: “Give me the dead to weep and -make their grave.” But the fury that has smitten him is inexorable. - - “_Never! Myself will lay them in a still - Green sepulchre.... - ... For thee, behold, death draweth on, - Evil and lonely, like thine heart: the hands - Of thine own Argo, rotting where she stands, - Shall smite thine head in twain, and bitter be - To the last end thy memories of me._“[31] - ------ - -Footnote 30: - - From Dr. A. S. Way’s translation of the _Argonautica_ (Dent and Sons - Ltd.). - -Footnote 31: - - From Professor Gilbert Murray’s translation of the _Medea_ (George - Allen & Co. Ltd.). - - - - -_Euripides: Phædra_ - - -The _Hippolytus_ of Euripides, to which we turn for the story of Phædra, -is frequently called the earliest love-tragedy in European literature. -That is to say, it is the first to deal fully and frankly with the power -of love toward tragic issues. This can hardly be said about the _Medea_, -for that drama is only the last incident of a story wherein love has -been changed to hatred; and the motive is revenge. But in the -_Hippolytus_ the story is unfolded from its inception; and Phædra’s -passion is found to be the force that moves the whole action of the -tragedy. This fact has a peculiar attraction for the modern mind; but -the drama has other claims upon us too. First, for its sheer beauty, as -poetry and as dramatic art of a special type; then, for its accurate -study of character, three people at least gripping our interest as -complete and convincing human creatures; and again, for its lofty tone -and a reflective element which, though characteristically original, is -calm and clear. But the most wonderful fact of all is the surprising -contrast between the nature of the theme and the austere beauty of the -drama which has been built upon it. - -The crude facts of the story are almost repulsive on the face of them. -Phædra, the young wife of Theseus, King of Athens and Trozen, had fallen -in love with her husband’s illegitimate son Hippolytus. That is the -initial situation; and the further data of the old Attic legend do not -soften it. For we know that Phædra’s love was unrequited, a fact which, -with curious unreason, seems to accuse her; and we know too that when -her love was betrayed to Hippolytus, she took her own life in shame and -fear, first making a false charge against him which she knew would bring -upon him the punishment of death. - -Such, in harsh outline, is the story of unhappy love and wild impulse -which has been made by this poet who was before all things a seeker of -truth, into a work of supreme spiritual beauty. More wonderful still, -Phædra, who by conventional canons would seem to have forfeited all -claim to respect or sympathy, is found to be a woman of sweet and gentle -purity, cruelly betrayed by forces without and within, and driven by -desperation to a frantic attempt to save her honour. - -The means to such an end are interesting, although behind them all lies -the explanation of them all—the poet’s higher and broader perception of -truth. He has seen the passion which ruled Phædra as a great -world-force, an elemental power which could neither be escaped nor -overcome. This power is personified as Aphrodite or Cypris, goddess of -love; and she is conceived as the mortal enemy of Hippolytus, because he -has scorned her in his spiritual pride and refused her her need of -worship. - -The key to the tragedy lies in this conception of Cypris, and in the -mystical, ascetic spirit of Hippolytus against which she has set her -offended godhead. They represent eternally opposing forces, and warfare -between them is inevitable and deadly. For that reason, the opening -monologue of the Drama is of great importance. The scene is placed -before the castle of Theseus at Trozen. A statue of a goddess stands on -either side—that of Artemis, chaste Moon-goddess, on the one hand, -decked with flowers and carefully tended; and on the other hand, bare -and unhonoured, is the statue of Aphrodite. While beside the latter, -musing in evident anger, is the gleaming form of the goddess herself. We -learn the cause of her anger as she speaks. She is grieved on account of -Hippolytus, who in his excessive devotion to Artemis, despises Aphrodite -and looks upon love as a thing unclean. His arrogance and neglect are an -unbearable insult, and she has determined to punish him, swiftly and -without mercy. She has already prepared the pitfall, long ago in Athens, -when Hippolytus came to be solemnly initiated into the Mysteries. - - “_And Phædra there, his father’s Queen high-born, - Saw him, and, as she saw, her heart was torn - With great love, by the working of my will. - And for his sake, long since, on Pallas’ hill, - Deep in the rock, that love no more might roam, - She built a shrine, and named it Love-at-home: - And the rock held it, but its face alway - Seeks Trozên o’er the seas._“[32] - -Thus Phædra tried to exorcise her passion; but there came a time when -Theseus, to expiate some sin, retired to Trozen with his queen. There, -meeting the young prince daily, love reawakened; and at the opening of -the tragedy it is secretly consuming her very life. - - _And here that grievous and amazéd queen, - Wounded and wondering, with ne’er a word, - Wastes slowly; and her secret none hath heard - Nor dreamed._[32] - -Now Aphrodite’s hour has come, and Phædra is the weapon with which she -will strike. The young queen’s vigilant honour, proud and enduring, -shall be overthrown, by a broken word uttered in weakness; and she shall -die, dragging down Hippolytus with her. Even while the goddess is -invoking the prince’s doom, there are cheery distant sounds of the -returning hunt; and the voice of Hippolytus raised above the rest in a -hymn to Artemis. Aphrodite lingers an instant longer, and the menace of -her final words shatters the blithe harmony that is approaching: - - “_Little he knows that Hell’s gates opened are, - And this his last look on the great Day-star!_“[32] - -The next moment the goddess has vanished, and Hippolytus leads in his -troop of huntsmen, laden with spoil and bearing fresh-culled field -flowers for the honour of the goddess of all wild things. Straight to -the statue of Artemis goes the prince, and standing in an attitude of -supplication, he proffers a wreath from the uncropped meadows that she -loves. There is in his prayer a curious note of exaltation. Young, brave -and fair, there is something at once beautiful and sinister in his claim -to perfect purity: his naïve assumption that he alone of all men is -worthy to worship the goddess: in the ascetic vow he takes; and the -mystical touches, hinting of personal converse with the deity. We -vaguely feel that there is a shade of excess in it; that the limit of -holy confidence has been passed; and that, with all its intensity, there -is something narrow and hard in his devotion. A pious old huntsman has -to remind him that he has not paid service at the second shrine; when, -with a perfunctory salute to the statue of Aphrodite, Hippolytus and his -train go into the castle. - -There follows a lovely ode by the Chorus, which prepares for the -entrance of Phædra. They tell of a mysterious sickness that has fallen -on the queen, and of their fears for her life. - - “_For three long days she hath lain forlorn, - Her lips untainted of flesh or corn, - For that secret sorrow beyond allayment, - That steers to the far sad shore of the dead._“[32] - -Many a surmise they ponder, to account for the strange malady: perhaps -some god is angry with the queen for stinted rites: or the absent king -her husband is unfaithful: or she has had ill tidings from her Cretan -home. Their musing brings no light to the problem; but its purpose is -served, for when Phædra is presently borne out on her couch, we are -prepared to see a being in whom vitality is burning low; but in whom -suffering is overshone by stainless honour and an unconquerable will. -She is attended by her maids, and by an old nurse whose delineation is -wonderful. She is one of the humble characters whom Euripides drew so -often: whose sterling qualities he seems to delight in, but whose -limitation and error he puts in too, with absolute fidelity. Like -Medea’s nurse, she probably came with her mistress from her maiden home; -and she has grown old in faithful service. She has the tenderness of a -mother for the young queen; but age has made her fretful, and slavery -has hardened the fibre of her mind. With pathetic solicitude, she is yet -inclined to be querulous at the feverish caprices of her charge. -Moreover, she divines that there is something weighing upon her mistress -which Phædra will not reveal, even to her; and she is hurt at the lack -of confidence. - -As the queen’s languid voice follows the wandering thought that has -almost escaped control, the old woman grows impatient. She cannot -comprehend the yearning flight of fancy which, in phrases of wild -beauty, betrays its longing for escape: to flee to the mountain spaces -and the woods and fields, and thread the mazes of the pines with arrow -and spear, like Artemis herself. - - “_Oh for a deep and dewy spring, - With runlets cold to draw and drink! - And a great meadow blossoming, - Long-grassed, and poplars in a ring, - To rest me by the brink!_“[32] - -There is a significance in the half-conscious utterances which lies very -near the surface of the words: the fair soul unwittingly hinting its -secret in delirium as lovely as itself. Presently her mind grows clear -again, and she starts in fear of what she may have betrayed. - - “_What have I said? Woe’s me! And where - Gone straying from my wholesome mind? - What? Did I fall in some god’s snare? - Nurse, veil my head again, and blind - Mine eyes! There is a tear behind - That lash. Oh, I am sick with shame!_“[32] - -The sight of her anguish and humiliation stings the nurse to another -protest. She had not possessed the clue to Phædra’s raving, and the -sudden access of shame is inexplicable. She longs to soothe and help, -out of her deep and genuine affection; and she has also some touch of -quite human curiosity which she cannot restrain. But every way she is -baffled by the silence of the queen. She feels that she is slighted, but -much more she feels the cruelty of unsuccoured pain to one whom she -dearly loves. - -The thought that Phædra is surely dying from this mysterious malady -flings her down in supplication; and she pours out a torrent of -entreaties until we feel that the queen is growing exhausted by them. -But there is no sign given until the nurse, reminding her mistress of -the children whom she will leave unprotected by her death, speaks of -Theseus’ bastard son who may disinherit them, and lets fall his name, -Hippolytus. The word brings a cry from Phædra at last; and then, -reluctantly, in slow and broken phrases, all the secret is wrung from -her. - -The old woman now is horrified and remorseful at her own persistence. -Terror seizes her, and an unreasoning sense that her mistress must -perforce yield to dishonour. Phædra’s chastity rises indignantly at so -base a thought, giving her strength to face the women about her with a -magnificent defence of her honour. She begins almost hesitatingly, on a -note of sadness for all the sum of human misery; but she gathers courage -as the story is unfolded and rises to sublimity at last: - - “_Come, I will show thee how my spirit hath moved. - When the first stab came, and I knew I loved, - I cast about how best to face mine ill. - And the first thought that came, was to be still - And hide my sickness.... - After that - I would my madness bravely bear, and try - To conquer by mine own heart’s purity. - My third mind, when these two availed me naught - To quell love, was to die—the best, best thought— - Gainsay me not—of all that men can say! - I would not have mine honour hidden away.... - Nay, - Friends, ‘tis for this I die.... - ‘Tis written, one way is there, one, to win - This life’s race, could man keep it from his birth, - A true clean spirit._“[32] - -But while the queen is speaking, winning a painful way upward to her -spirit’s height, the nurse is lagging after her on a much lower path. -She has rallied from the first shock, when Phædra’s confession had -driven her to mere panic; and is now revolving the matter in a mind -where perception has been dimmed by age and the moral fibre coarsened by -long servility. Calling up all her store of doubtful experience and -worldly wisdom, she opposes every cunning and plausible argument to -Phædra’s virtue. Can her mistress not see that she is visibly caught in -the snare of Cypris? Of what use is it to struggle against so mighty a -goddess? No human heart can resist the power of love; and it is wiser to -yield at once than to be broken by Aphrodite’s anger. - -Phædra listens patiently, seeing that the faithful old creature is -prompted by real devotion; and her reply has more of pity than of anger -in it, for the crooked counsel. - - “_Oh this it is hath flung to dogs and birds - Men’s lives and homes and cities—fair false words! - O why speak things to please our ears? We crave - Not that. ‘Tis honour, honour, we must save!_“[32] - -But when the nurse, irritated, flings a rank word at this love that she -cannot comprehend, Phædra’s anger blazes in a vehement rebuke. - - “_Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne’er again - Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there!_“[32] - -The old woman is not silenced, however: she merely changes her tactics. -Will not the queen trust to her? She knows of love-philtres and salves -that will cure her passion without fear of shame. Phædra is growing -weary of the contest; and at last, when endurance is strained to -breaking, she yields on a point which seems quite innocent and harmless. -The nurse may fetch the potion of which she speaks; only—and on this she -lays pathetic stress—no word of her secret must be breathed to the -prince. There is a soothing, half evasive reply from the nurse: a -muttered prayer aside to Cypris which has something ominous in it; and -the old servant goes out to wreck the honour of her mistress in a -foolish attempt to serve her. Hardly has she gone when, above the song -which the women of the Chorus have taken up, Phædra catches the deep -tones of an angry voice within the palace. She springs to her feet, -every nerve tingling with apprehension; and calling to the singers for -silence she bends her ear to the great door. A cry escapes her: - - “_Oh, misery! - O God, that such a thing should fall on me!_“[32] - -It is the voice of Hippolytus which she can hear, raging at her nurse in -immeasurable scorn, for something that has been asked of him. As each -brutal epithet falls, Phædra, in a trance of horror and shame repeats it -to the listening women. Then she shrinks aside, as Hippolytus bursts out -of the castle, the nurse at his heels, frantically entreating him to -hold his peace. By no direct word does he acknowledge Phædra’s presence; -and she, with every shred of self-respect gone, cowers apart as though -she were indeed guilty of the foulness he imputes to her. But in noisy -indignation, with every word barbed for the trembling queen, he raves -against the nurse, against the whole of womankind, and love and -marriage, ending by a threat to reveal the story to Theseus upon his -return. His anger is just; but in the hardness of youth and the -bitterness of a narrow spirit it is savage, merciless and all too -prompt. Blind to everything but his own wounded pride, he cannot see -that Phædra has been cruelly betrayed by the meddling zeal of her -servant; and he heaps insult upon her until her sensitive soul lies -prostrate—a thing that seems even to herself as black as he believes it. -All through the tirade she, who is the central figure in this -extraordinary scene, takes no part in it: she remains mute, as though -literally smitten dumb with shame, until Hippolytus rushes out. Then she -sinks to the ground, sobbing: - - “_And, this thing, O my God, - And thou, sweet Sunlight, is but my desert! - I cannot fly before the avenging rod - Falls, cannot hide my hurt._“[32] - -Some of the women try to comfort her, and raising her eyes as they -speak, she catches sight of the figure of the nurse. She springs from -the ground, a wave of anger sweeping away her weakness: - - “_O vilest of the vile, O murderess heart - To them that loved thee, hast thou played thy part? - Am I enough trod down?_“[32] - -The old woman is deeply contrite for the wrong that she has done; but -garrulous and plausible to the last, she pleads her love as an excuse, -and claims that had her plan succeeded she would have been praised for -what she now is blamed. Phædra’s wrath abates a little after its first -uncontrolled outburst: she cannot long be angry with one so old and -lowly; and besides, there are other, darker things to be thought about -and done. But when the nurse, deceived by her calmness, tries to broach -some other scheme, the queen dismisses her peremptorily. She will -henceforth guide her own affairs, she says; and we know she means that -there remains only one thing for her to do. The old woman goes -sorrowfully away, and Phædra is left to face the thought of her -intolerable humiliation, of the threatened exposure to her husband, and -of the stain upon her children. As reflection brings back the assurance -that she is innocent, despite all, it does but increase her anguish at -the thought of dishonour, and stir her to frenzy against Hippolytus. She -is resolved to die: that she sees to be inevitable now. But how save her -fair name, and the honour of her young children, and the fame of her -dear old Cretan home? How secure to herself, in spite of false -appearances, the innocence that is hers by virtue of every act and -thought of her life? Beating backward and forward in the narrow circle -of shame and fear, the poor baffled mind can only see one path, crooked -and dark, to the thing she craves for. It is the way of a lie—a false -charge against Hippolytus. It will mean the death of a good man: that -she knows—and rejoices in—so completely are truth and justice shrivelled -in the monstrous injustice that she is suffering. - - “_... But now, yea, even while I reel - And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is, - I clutch at in this coil of miseries; - To save some honour for my children’s sake: - Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break - In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame - The old proud Cretan castle whence I came. - I will not cower before King Theseus’ eyes, - Abased, for want of one life’s sacrifice.... - Yet, dying, shall I die another’s bane! - He shall not stand so proud where I have lain - Bent in the dust! Oh, he shall stoop to share - The life I live in, and learn mercy there!_”[32] - -She goes in, and the Chorus break into a song of foreboding. A few -minutes later there are cries of alarm within the castle, the sound of -hurrying feet and voices calling to come and help the queen. Then there -are ejaculations of pity: a sudden, ominous silence, and again another -voice—“Let it lie straight.” Phædra is dead by her own hand. - - * * * * * - -We must pass quickly over the fate of Hippolytus, though that is really -the crisis of the tragedy. Hardly had the poor body of Phædra been -composed upon a bier than Theseus himself was announced, returning -garlanded and joyful from a visit to the oracle of some god. Met by the -news of his wife’s death, he tore off all the signs of joy that he was -wearing and threw himself beside her in bitter lamentation. A little -tablet hanging from her wrist caught his eye, and believing it to be -some dying wish, he gently disengaged it. It was the false charge -against Hippolytus; and as the king read, his brow darkened with -terrible anger. The pitiful figure before him seemed to claim swift and -terrible vengeance; and Theseus uttered an awful curse against his son. -Calling upon the god Poseidon to ratify an ancient promise, he demanded -instant death for Hippolytus. The petition was uttered rashly, in anger -and grief; and Theseus himself hardly dreamed that it would be -fulfilled; but the answer came with dreadful promptitude. There was one -stormy scene between father and son; and Hippolytus, pleading in vain -for mercy, went out to banishment. But Poseidon in his far sea-caves had -heard Theseus’ invocation; and as the young prince urged his chariot -along the shore, a mighty wave, crested by a fierce sea-monster, rolled -destruction on him. Hurled from his chariot, and dragged at the heels of -the maddened horses, Hippolytus was barely saved alive by his -attendants. They carried him back to the castle, and brought him into -the presence of the king, wounded and dying. But before life closed for -him he was gloriously vindicated, and the tragedy ends, as it began, -with the appearance of a goddess. It is not Aphrodite now, however. She -has done her worst with the two young lives she has chosen to despoil; -and now Artemis will justify their innocence and leave their memory -clean and sweet. - -ARTEMIS. _For this I came, to show how high - And clean was thy son’s heart, that he may die - Honoured of men; aye, and to tell no less - The frenzy, or in some sort the nobleness - Of thy dead wife._[32] - ------ - -Footnote 32: - - From Professor Gilbert Murray’s translation of the _Hippolytus_ - (George Allen & Co. Ltd.). - - - - -_Euripides: Iphigenia_ - - -We turn back to the Trojan legend now, and to two Euripidean plays which -in some sense round off the Orestean story. We had to leave that story -at a ragged edge—the murder of Clytemnestra by her son Orestes in -revenge for the death of Agamemnon. We could not go on to the third -drama of the Æschylean trilogy, to follow the unhappy youth as he fled -in remorse to the oracle of Apollo at Delphi, and thence to Athens, -seeking to appease his mother’s Furies. But if we had done so we should -have found the whole theme brought to a calm and beautiful conclusion: -Orestes cleansed by suffering and set free from guilt by Athena; and the -avenging Furies changed into Spirits of Mercy. - -Euripides, however, who took so many subjects for his drama from the -Trojan cycle and always gave them new significance, in this case chose -variants of the legend and wove them into a story which was entirely -fresh. So that the _Iphigenia in Tauris_, with which we are chiefly -concerned now, shows Orestes still fleeing before the Erinnyes; and -carries the tale to another and much more exciting conclusion. Indeed, -the peculiar charm of this tragedy is that it is not really tragedy at -all, but a thrilling adventure-play. It reminds us of the _Odyssey_, -with its flavour of the sea, the wistful note that haunts it and its -spice of physical peril; only, this is the work of a poet who adds high -dramatic values to the delight of the story, with a lyric note of -enchanting beauty, and penetrating thought. - -Characteristically, when Euripides took up this part of the Orestean -legend, it was not so much the man Orestes in whom he was interested, as -the woman Iphigenia; with the result that we have two dramas called by -her name and in which she is the protagonist. Both were produced late in -the poet’s life, the _Iphigenia in Aulis_ being probably his last work. -It contains the earlier part of the heroine’s story—the sacrifice of the -virgin-martyr at Aulis; and the great new feature of it, her rescue by -Artemis just as the knife was falling to her throat, was perhaps the -poet’s own invention. There is no hint of it in Æschylus. To -Clytemnestra, the murder of her first-born child Iphigenia was the crime -which turned her life to bitterness and armed her against Agamemnon. He -had beguiled her to send the child—for she was but a mere girl—to Aulis, -for marriage with the splendid young hero Achilles. And then, at the -bidding of a soothsayer, he had ruthlessly slain his daughter on the -altar of Artemis; and sailed away to Troy. - -Those are the facts at the heart of the mystery which is Clytemnestra; -but when we come to the _Iphigenia in Aulis_ we find some different data -and a far different interpretation. Agamemnon there is almost pitiably -human, driven by complex motives first to consent to Iphigenia’s death, -then to recant in horror, and finally to yield to forces which he could -not control. Iphigenia, too, is made at once nobler and more tragic in -the idea of a willing sacrifice—giving herself up, after the first shock -of terror, to die freely for her country’s good. And in her rescue by -the goddess there is added an element of marvel and mystery, which is at -the same time a protest against a form of religion so inhuman. - -The _Iphigenia in Tauris_ opens at a period many years later. - -Troy had fallen. Agamemnon and Clytemnestra were both dead in the manner -we know of; and Orestes was a fugitive, seeking through many lands to -expiate the crime of mother-murder. There had been laid upon him at -last, as the only means to peace, the command of Apollo to make his way -to the savage land of the Tauri. He was to seize and bring from the -temple of Artemis there a certain statue of the goddess which had fallen -from heaven long before, and which the people of the land were -dishonouring by human sacrifice. Every stranger cast upon their shores -was slain at the shrine of the goddess; and Orestes ran the risk of -almost certain death in making the venture. But he had a solemn promise -from Apollo; and the reward would be sweet indeed. He would be cleansed -of the crime, and set free from these haunting shapes of remorse which -sometimes drove him to madness. Moreover, he would rid the name of -Hellas from the stain which lay on its religion through the barbarous -practices of the Tauri. So he and his devoted comrade Pylades sailed for -those inhospitable waters. - - _Through the Clashing Rocks they burst: - They passed by the Cape unsleeping - Of Phineus’ sons accurst; - They ran by the starlit bay - Upon magic surges sweeping, - Where folk on the waves astray - Have seen, through the gleaming grey, - Ring behind ring, men say, - The dance of the old Sea’s daughters._[33] - -But Destiny was guiding them to something stranger than they had either -hoped or dreaded. For this wild land, fiercely guarded from approach by -the Rocky Gateway of the Symplêgades, was the country to which Artemis -had carried Iphigenia from the altar in Aulis. And in the temple where -they must seek the sacred statue, the daughter of Agamemnon was even now -a priestess. - -The years had passed wearily since Iphigenia first found herself a -captive in Tauris. Completely shut off from the world by the sea which -foamed round that desolate coast, no word ever came to her from her home -in Argos; and she could make no sign to the friends who believed her -dead long since. She hated this savage people, and Thoas their king, and -the hideous sacrifices at which she had to perform the cleansing rite. -Sometimes she would grow sick at their brutality, and wild with -loneliness and longing to escape. Then sceptical thoughts would come -about the deity who could accept such worship; and it would seem to her -better to have died at Aulis than to have been saved for such slow -misery. At other times she would brood over her short sweet girlhood and -its bitter ending, gone irrevocably from the moment of her father’s -fraud; and bitterness would overwhelm her against Agamemnon, and the -Seer who counselled him, and the chieftains who persuaded him; but above -all against Helen, for whose sake the war was made. - -So youth stole away, taking with it, as Iphigenia sadly thought, all the -high things that inspire a fair young soul—the shining ideal, the simple -and ardent faith, the generous emotion that leaps to sympathy and -service. And at the moment of the opening of the play, when the ship -that bears Orestes is being run ashore at Tauris, Iphigenia stands -before her temple feeling hard and hopeless, dispossessed of all that is -dear in life, and with every illusion long since fled. - -It is early morning, and Iphigenia has just emerged from the temple. -There are a few lines of formal exposition: an involuntary cry of -disgust at the blood-stained altar that is insulting the eye of day; and -then a flow of troubled speech. - - “_Ah me! - But what dark dreams, thou clear and morning sky - I have to tell thee, can that bring them ease!_“[33] - -In the night that has just passed, she had dreamed of her home in Argos. -She seemed to lie asleep there, with her maids around her, when suddenly -an earthquake shook the palace; and running out of doors, she saw the -great building reel and fall. Only one pillar remained; and as she -watched it, she saw that brown hair waved about its head, and she heard -it speak with a human voice. Then, in the strange confusion of dreams, -she found herself fulfilling the office that she bears here in Tauris; -and she washed the pillar clean for death, as it was her duty to wash -the victims for the sacrifice. - -With pathetic readiness, Iphigenia has accepted the dream as an evil -omen. The pillar of her father’s house must mean his son Orestes, whom -she left a child in Argos all those years ago. Those whom she cleanses -are doomed to die. What can the dream mean, therefore, save that her -brother is dead? The conviction is so strong upon her that she at once -decides to prepare the funeral rite. - - “_Therefore to my dead brother will I pour - Such sacrifice, I on this bitter shore - And he beyond great seas, as still I may._“[33] - -[Illustration: - - IPHIGENIA - - _M. Nonnenbruch_ - - _By permission of the Berlin Photographic Co. 133 New Bond St. W._ -] - -But hardly has she gone upon her errand when there is a sound of muffled -voices approaching, and two youths enter, treading cautiously, and -peering for danger on every side. They are Orestes and his friend -Pylades, who have found their way up from the shore, and are searching -for some means to carry out the god’s command. As they come before the -temple, and note the grim signs of slain men on the altar and hanging -from the roof, they realize that this is the very centre of their quest; -and that they have now to face the most deadly peril of all. - -At this crucial moment, however, when all their hopes depend on a calm -nerve and rapid thought and resolute action, an approaching fit of -madness begins to shake Orestes. With strength sapped and courage -broken, he falls upon a seat while Pylades goes to reconnoitre. In his -weakened state he is overcome by the terror of the place and their -enormous danger; and when his friend returns, he implores him to fly -back to the galley. But Pylades has hopeful tidings. He has found a spot -in this almost impregnable temple where an entry might be forced by -courage and daring; and heartening Orestes with the news, he leads him -away, to hide till nightfall in a cavern by the seashore. - -As they go out of sight, the Chorus enters, singing a hymn to Artemis, -the mountain-born child of Leto. They are Greek women, captured in war -by Thoas and given by him to the priestess for her handmaidens. They -come wonderingly, in answer to Iphigenia’s urgent summons; and are -amazed when she appears with every sign of grief, followed by attendants -who carry libations for the dead. In answer to a question from their -leader, the priestess tells them of her ominous dream and of the funeral -rite that she is about to perform for her brother. - - “_Alas, O maidens mine! - I am filled full of tears; - My heart filled with the beat - Of tears, as of dancing feet._“[33] - -From each attendant she takes in turn a golden goblet containing a -libation of wine and milk and honey; and as she pours them into the -altar for the dead, she and her women alternately chant a threnody for -Orestes. They sing of the old dark story of Agamemnon’s house, from its -beginning in the sin of Pelops down to what was for Iphigenia its last -and worst enormity, the sacrifice at Aulis. And as their voices rise and -fall in the long ceremonial, while Iphigenia is still upon her knees -before the altar, there is a violent interruption. A herdsman bursts -eagerly upon them, with news that shatters the mournful beauty of their -rite. - - “_A ship hath passed the blue Symplêgades, - And here upon our coast two men are thrown, - Young, bold, good slaughter for the altar-stone - Of Artemis!_“[33] - -The priestess rises, impatient at this sudden recall to her hated duty, -and the jarring note that has broken their obsequies. The man and his -ugly zeal are a complete offence to her, and she answers him curtly. Who -and what are these men he speaks of? At his reply, however, annoyance -gives place to astonishment, curiosity, and a strange mingling of joy -and pain. For he tells that the men are Greeks; and never yet, in all -the dreary time of her captivity, has one of her countrymen landed upon -these shores. - -Once or twice, in her darkest hours, she had longed and prayed for such -a day as this—for fate to send some Hellenic victim to her altar. She -had thought she would be glad: that it would be a keen and satisfying -pleasure to take a Greek life for all that the Greeks had made her -suffer. But now that she stands face to face with her desire, there is a -tumult of emotion within her in which bitterness hardly shares. - -She questions the herdsman closely of the name and appearance of the -strangers. One is called Pylades, he says; but the other’s name he did -not catch. And at Iphigenia’s command, he goes over the whole story of -their capture. He and his companions were washing their cattle in the -sea, when one of them had spied two strangers sitting on the beach in a -little bay. They were young, handsome and apparently noble; and there -was something in their fine physique and sudden unaccountable appearance -in that lonely spot which made one of his fellows cry out that they were -gods. But another jeered and said most likely they were shipwrecked -sailors who knew the custom of the country and were trying to escape it; -and just at that moment a strange thing happened. One of the youths was -suddenly seized with a fit of madness. They saw him spring from his seat -and beat his head up and down, while he shrieked wildly to his comrade: - - “_Pylades, - Dost see her there?—And there.—Oh, no one sees!— - A she-dragon of Hell, and all her head - Agape with fangèd asps, to bite me dead!_“[33] - -The distraught fancy of Orestes saw the cattle and their watch-dogs as -the pursuing Furies of his mother; and quick as a flash, before his -friend could intervene, he had drawn his sword and was slashing right -and left amongst the helpless beasts. The herdsmen blew their horns; and -soon a crowd had gathered and were pelting the strangers with stones. -While the fit of madness lasted Pylades guarded Orestes from attack; but -it passed quickly, and the two youths fought together gallantly for -life. Not one of the missiles struck home, the goddess, it seemed, -taking care to save her prey. But at last they were surrounded, and the -swords beaten out of their hands. - - “_Then to the king - We bore them both, and he, not tarrying, - Sends them to thee, to touch with holy spray— - And then the blood-bowl._“[33] - -All through the tale Iphigenia had listened in pity for the brave youths -so cruelly overborne; and now she is suddenly brought back to the -thought of the sacrifice and of her part in it. There is a shudder of -horror too, when the herdsman reminds her of her prayer in past times -for just such a capture as this. She restrains herself with an effort, -and coldly bids the man fetch the prisoners; but no sooner has he gone -than the tumult of emotion within rushes into speech. Memories of the -old times: of the bridal rites that were only a snare; and of the poor -timid child that she once had been, imploring her father to be merciful. -Thoughts, too, of shipwrecked men and of all the dreadful sacrifices -which she cannot and will not believe that the goddess delights in. And -above all, the certainty she feels that Orestes is dead; and which she -says has turned her heart to stone and made her pitiless. - - “_’Tis true: I know by mine own evil will: - One long in pain, if things more suffering still - Fall to his hand, will hate them for his own - Torment,_“[33] - -So she thinks she will not falter: that though she may have shrunk from -the task in former times, this last pain has made her cruel. Yet, when -the strangers are brought in, all the hardness melts in a moment. - - “_Ah me! - What mother then was yours, O strangers, say, - And father? And your sister, if you have - A sister: both at once, so young and brave, - To leave her brotherless._“[33] - -Orestes answers, a little irritated at the sight of her tears. Whoever -this stranger woman is, it is hardly kind of her, he thinks, to unman -them thus by pity; and he bids her cease. They know the form of worship -of the country, and are prepared to die. - -Iphigenia checks her tears, but she cannot control her desire for news -of home and friends. So, rather heartlessly as the prisoners think, she -presses eager questions on them—for their name and parentage and city. -To Orestes it seems that she is prompted by the shallowest curiosity, -and he flings curt phrases at her, refusing the information. But the -clamour at her heart will not be silenced by the rebuke: her own pride -and the dignity of her office, and every other consideration but this -craving for word from Hellas, go down before it. She pleads that she at -least may know what land of Greece they hail from; and grudgingly, in -the fewest words possible, Orestes answers that Argos is his land, and -his home is at Mycenæ. His words evoke an exclamation of joy from -Iphigenia; and as his reluctance gradually breaks up under the spell of -her sincerity, he is drawn on to answer her on all those matters which, -unknown to either, are of such weighty interest to both. - -She asks about Troy, and the fate of Helen: of Calchas, that evil -prophet who had bidden her father slay his child: of Achilles, her -promised bridegroom, dead long since outside the walls of Troy. And -Orestes in his turn begins to wonder who may be this searching -questioner, who asks so feelingly of the things that lie closest to his -heart. She tells him that she is Greek; and that explains a good deal. -But when she comes nearer home, and asks for news of Agamemnon, it is -only her evident emotion that wins a reply. Bit by bit she learns that -Agamemnon is dead by the hand of Clytemnestra; and a cry escapes her -which is full of the sense of the tragedy from the woman’s standpoint: - - “_O God! - I pity her that slew ... and him that slew!_“[33] - -Orestes, too, is moved, and begs her, shrinking from further questions -which he sees are coming, to desist. One word more, she entreats—what of -Clytemnestra? And when the youth, in slow words that seem wrung from him -in pain, tells that the great queen was slain by her son in vengeance -for his father’s death, it is again the woman’s judgment that springs to -utterance: - - “_Alas! - A bad false duty bravely hath he wrought._“[33] - -So little by little the tragic events that have filled the years of her -exile are related in this wonderful dialogue, where every sentence that -each speaker utters carries a significance to which the other has no -clue. All through the scene the underlying dramatic irony is profoundly -felt—the ignorance of each of the other’s identity; and at moments one -holds the breath in suspense. At one time the unknown priestess speaks -of the Greek king’s daughter who was slain at Aulis; and when the -stranger answers that of course nothing more was heard of her, she -having died at Aulis, Iphigenia sighs: - - “_Poor child! Poor father, too, who killed and lied!_“[33] - -Again, remembering her ominous dream, she asks what has become of -Agamemnon’s son, and receives the reply: - - “_He lives, now here, now nowhere, bent with ill._“[33] - -So her dream was a lie, she muses, thankfully; and falls silent while -the stranger, whose reserve has vanished now, breaks into bitter railing -against the gods who have brought him to this pass. Iphigenia scarcely -hears him. Relief and gratitude for the fact that Orestes is living: -renewed pity for the strangers’ doom and some wistful tenderness for him -to whom she has spoken, fill her mind and prompt her to rapid thought. - -Suppose she were to rescue them, she ponders, or one of them? And -suppose, in doing so, she could bring help to herself from the brother -in Argos who believes her dead? Suddenly she turns upon Orestes and -begins rapidly to unfold a plan. She knows a way to save him; and she -will undertake to give him life in return for a promise. He must pledge -himself to carry a letter which she will give him to her friends in -Mycenæ. - -So her proposal runs to the amazed and grateful youths; but a difficulty -instantly arises. Orestes will not by any means consent that Pylades -shall be left behind to die. His friend is very dear to him, he says: -let Pylades go free and bear the message. The priestess agrees, with a -word of admiration for his generous love; and goes into the temple to -fetch the tablet, which had been written for her long ago, by a prisoner -taken by king Thoas. - -While Iphigenia is gone, the friends take a tender farewell of each -other. Pylades entreats Orestes to let him stay and die in his stead: he -will have no more joy in life, he says, when he returns without his -comrade; and men will scorn him for a coward. But the other puts his -pleading resolutely on one side, and when the priestess returns with the -tablet, both are composed and ready. She has one misgiving, however. She -fears that Pylades will forget his trust once he is free of Tauris; and -she requires of him an oath that her letter will be delivered. But when -the oath is solemnly given, Pylades perceives a difficulty in his turn. -Suppose the tablet should be lost, how could he fulfil his promise? -Iphigenia sees that there is only one thing to do—she must repeat the -contents of the letter, and the messenger must commit them to memory. -So, speaking slowly and impressively, she begins: - -IPHIGENIA. _Say: “To Orestes, Agamemnon’s son, - She that was slain in Aulis, dead to Greece, - Yet quick, Iphigenia sendeth peace.”_ - -ORESTES. _Iphigenia! Where? Back from the dead?_ - -IPHIGENIA. _’Tis I. But speak not, lest thou break my thread._[33] - -Orestes and Pylades, after a wild exclamation each to the other, stand -listening in bewildered joy as Iphigenia proceeds, relating the story of -her rescue by Artemis, and calling upon her brother to come and save her -from captivity. During the recital, they have had time to grasp the -wonder of the things they have heard; but no ray of the truth has come -to Iphigenia. And when Orestes, receiving the letter from the hand of -Pylades, turns eagerly to embrace the sister so marvellously saved, she -recoils in horror. - -ORESTES. _O Sister mine, O my dead father’s child, - Agamemnon’s child; take me and have no fear, - Beyond all dreams ‘tis I thy brother here._[33] - -Iphigenia, incredulous, thinks he is mocking her. She has been so long -dead to love and happiness that she cannot believe that they have come -to her at last, and that this is really the brother for whom, a little -while before, she had performed the funeral rite. She insists on proof -of his identity; and as he tells over the little homely signs by which -she may know him, her doubt slips away and she clasps him in her arms. - - “_Is this the babe I knew, - The little babe, light lifted like a bird?... - O Argos land, O hearth and holy flame - That old Cyclôpes lit, - I bless ye that he lives, that he is grown, - A light and strength, my brother and mine own._“[33] - -They cling to each other, Iphigenia oblivious of everything but her joy, -and Orestes loth to recall her to a sense of their danger. Presently her -thoughts come painfully back to it, fluttering wildly round each -possibility of escape together, and seeing no way clear. But when -Orestes tells her of his mission to carry off the statue of the goddess, -the very magnitude of its daring clarifies her mind. She sees one way, -and though it is not the way that she had hoped, she is ready for the -sacrifice. She must secure the statue, and Orestes must escape with it -to Attica, as the god commands. For herself, her part will be to stay, -and by every means prevent her brother from being followed. She is sure -of success in this, and though it mean death for her, it will be sweet -to give herself for the peace of one so dear. - - “_Thou shalt walk free in Argolis again, - And all life smile on thee.... Dearest, we need - Not shrink from that._“[33] - -But Orestes absolutely refuses to accept his life at such a price; and -they strain every nerve to contrive a scheme which will carry them to -safety together. There is a suggestion to kill Thoas, but the woman who -has been sheltered and protected by him will not hear of it. Again, they -think of hiding in the temple until nightfall; but that is -impracticable, because the guards would see and capture them. And at -last Iphigenia, beating backward and forward over all the possible -chances, sees a gleam of hope. Slowly and carefully she unfolds her -plan. She will give out that the victims for the altar have come from -Greece polluted with a mother’s blood, and that they may not be offered -to the goddess until they have been cleansed in the sea. The statue, she -will say, is unclean too, since one of the captives has touched it; and -she will prevail upon the king to allow her to take it, with the -victims, down to the seashore. The rest will be Orestes’ task; and as -his ship with fifty rowers lies waiting for them in the little bay, they -should be able to get away before Thoas can follow. - -The scheme is at once subtle and daring, but it is their only hope of -escape from awful peril; and it is hastily resolved upon. Iphigenia -claims a promise of loyalty from her women, sends the prisoners away in -charge of attendants, and goes into the temple for the statue. As she -comes out again, bearing it in her hands, the king himself arrives. To -his astonished questions, she answers as has been arranged, and no point -is overlooked by her ingenuity. A herald should be sent before her, to -clear the streets, and proclaim that no one must look out, or leave his -house, for fear of pollution. Thoas himself, and his attendants, must -veil their eyes when her procession passes; and while she is gone, the -king is to purge the temple with fire in preparation for her return. -Lastly, if she be a long time away, the king need not be anxious, and -she must not be disturbed: the cleansing must be thoroughly performed. - -The king consents without a shadow of suspicion, impressed by her piety -and forethought. The prisoners are led out, and as the procession moves -away, Iphigenia utters a prayer for help in her strategy and pardon for -the deceit that she has practised on the king. As Thoas returns to the -temple to carry out Iphigenia’s injunctions, the Chorus break into an -ode in honour of Apollo and Artemis; and for a while there is no sound -but the sweet rise and fall of their voices. As time slips by, bringing -we know not what fortune to the fugitives, we know that the women of the -Chorus, who are in the secret, are tortured by suspense. Then there is a -sudden shout; and a messenger comes running from the shore and cries for -entrance to the temple. The women try to turn him aside; but he batters -upon the gates until Thoas throws them open, angry at the clamour. - -In rapid and excited speech the man tells his errand. Let the king come -at once, for he has been befooled. The cleansing was a fraud: the statue -has been stolen; and the Greek princess and the two young men who were -destined for the altar are even now rowing away in a boat which was -awaiting them. But if the king will hasten, they may yet be caught; for -at this moment they are battling with an adverse wind, and they have no -knowledge of the currents of that treacherous shore. - -Thoas, furious at the trap into which he has fallen, gives rapid orders: -a company of herdsmen is to go to the headlands, and boats are to be put -off immediately from the shore. So these crafty Greeks will be -overtaken, either by sea or land; and then let them beware of a -barbarian’s anger! - -But suddenly, through the shouting and confusion, there is a roll of -thunder and a lightning-flash; and descending through the air the -goddess Athena is seen. Her voice rings out imperiously, commanding -Thoas to stay his haste. Then, in the awed hush that falls she makes -known the will of the gods that Orestes and his sister shall not be -pursued. Fate has ordained their escape, and Thoas may not strive -against it. - - “_No death from thee - May snare Orestes between earth and sea._“[33] - -As for Orestes himself, Athena declares that it is laid on him to carry -the rescued image of Artemis to Halæ, on the bounds of Attica; and there -it will be worshipped with curious rites designed to recall the old -barbarity while condemning it. These poor Greek women must be restored -to their homes; and, for that fleeing priestess, Destiny has given to -her to end her days in peace and gentleness. - - “_And thou, Iphigenia, by the stair - Of Brauron in the rocks, the Key shalt bear. - Of Artemis. There shalt thou live and die, - And there have burial._“[33] - ------ - -Footnote 33: - - From Professor Gilbert Murray’s translation of the _Iphigenia in - Tauris_ (George Allen & Co. Ltd.). - - - - -_Virgil: Dido_ - - -Nineteen years before the birth of Christ the great Roman poet Virgil -died, leaving amongst his papers an epic poem which had been the work of -many years. Both in life and art this poet of the Augustan Age had a -very high ideal; and because he was conscious of defects in his work: -because his last illness came before he was able to put the finishing -touches upon it, he begged that it should be burned. But the emperor -Augustus interposed. Some parts of the poem were already known and loved -in the circle of Virgil’s friends, of whom the emperor was one. They -knew its fine theme—the founding of the Roman State by its legendary -ancestor Æneas; and having already some foretaste of its beauty and -charm and strong patriotic appeal, it seemed that the destruction of the -poem would mean an immense and irreparable loss. So the Emperor decided -that it should be preserved, and directed Virgil’s executors to edit it. - -The poem is of course the _Æneid_, and Dido is its heroine. Like the -Greek epics, it is an authentic voice of the ancient world; but of an -Age, a Race and a Civilization vastly different from theirs. It is quite -frankly fashioned in the Homeric form, and its hero is one of the Trojan -chiefs who fled overseas to Italy, to re-establish his race there at the -command of the gods. It actually brings Æneas at one point of his -wanderings within three months’ time of an incident in the _Odyssey_: it -shows us Andromache still mourning for Hector, and the gods still at -enmity over the old feud between Greek and Trojan. But all these links -with the earlier epics, and many others, subtler or more obvious, are -merely formal. In spirit there is as wide a severance as we know to -exist in actual time. The _Æneid_, with its humane, philosophic and -cultured poet, belongs to a state of society many hundreds of years -later than the _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_. And although it is a mistake to -regard the earlier poems as really ‘primitive,’ they represent an age -which, because it was relatively simpler and less self-conscious, seems -youthful and buoyant by comparison. - -The outward similarity and the fundamental contrast between Homer and -Virgil make a fascinating subject on which to linger; and one aspect at -least we must just glance at, because of its bearing on Dido’s story. It -is that added element of purpose in the _Æneid_ which perhaps includes -in itself or is the ultimate cause of all the other points of difference -from the Greek poems. The _Æneid_ was conceived with a deep and serious -aim, and composed with infinite care. It did not originate, as perhaps -the _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_ may have done, in the almost spontaneous lays -of wandering minstrels, for the delight and honour of princely hosts. It -was designed from the first to represent the divine birth of the Latin -race, the gradual uprising of the Roman state, its long struggle with -barbarism and its mission to civilize the Western world—all as the -ordinance of the supreme deity. - -From the very beginning of the poem its purpose is clear upon the face -of it; and one of the most important results is the creation of a new -type of hero. Æneas is not an ardent young soldier like Achilles, nor an -acute and hardy sailor like Odysseus, with their zest and naïveté. He is -a much more complex character, with a deeper estimate of life and some -civic virtues which had not been evolved when the earlier heroes were -created. He is a pioneer and adventurer who loves above all things home -and a settled order; an invader who does not enjoy warfare in the least; -a prince who rules by gentleness; a tender son and husband and father -who is capable of the deepest cruelty to the woman who loves him; a man -sadly conscious of human weakness, but conscious too of the divine -within himself and of the high destiny to which he is called. - -The character of Æneas is the primary element in the tragedy of Dido. -Because he was such a man, their love for each other was bound to end as -it did. Of course there was the external cause, too; also arising out of -the design of the poem. For Dido was the founder and queen of Carthage, -the hereditary foe of Rome. And the poet desired to dramatize, as it -were, the first clash of the two races in their infancy; to show the -origin of the long feud; and to prefigure by a sort of allegory the -eventual triumph of Rome. We do not think of the allegory, however, as -we read the story of Dido in the First and Fourth Books of the _Æneid_. -We are caught in the onward sweep of the poet’s imagination, and moved -by the intense human interest of the theme. It is only when the -catastrophe comes, when Æneas, fleeing from Carthage in the cold dawn, -sees the light of the queen’s funeral pyre reddening the sky, that we -begin to reflect on the meaning of it. Even then, so complete is the -victory of the poet’s art, our last thought is one of pity—for the -indignant spirit of Dido that has fled to the House of Shadows; and for -the miserable man no less, whom fate is driving to the coast of Italy. - - * * * * * - -When Troy was sacked, Æneas sailed away with twenty ships, and all that -remained dear to him of home. His wife Creusa was killed as they were -escaping from the burning city; but his household gods were preserved, -and these he carried with him in his flight, with his aged father and -his little son Iulus. - -Misfortune followed him, however. Juno, still unrelenting in her anger -against the race of Paris, buffeted him to and fro upon the seas for -seven years, and cast him at length upon the shore of Libya. The greater -part of his fleet was scattered, and perhaps lost for ever: his own crew -was broken by the long struggle; and he himself, under the cheery manner -which he assumed to encourage his men, was heart-sick with despair. What -this strange land was he did not know. It seemed wild and desolate: it -was most probably inhabited by barbarians, and at any moment a savage -horde might fall upon them. - -But the country was not hostile, as Æneas’ goddess-mother Venus took -care to assure him, meeting him in the guise of a mountain nymph. It was -the new land of Dido, the Tyrian princess who had fled from her native -country and the evil rule of her brother Pygmalion. The late king of -Tyre, her father, had given her in marriage to one she dearly loved, -Sichæus, a priest of Heracles, and the wealthiest man of all the wealthy -East. But a little later the king had died. Pygmalion succeeded to the -throne, and in greed for Sichæus’ wealth he secretly slew him at his own -altar. - - _Blinded with lust of gold, - And heedless of his sister’s passionate love, - Pygmalion on his brother crept by stealth, - And slew him at the very altar’s foot._[34] - -For some time he hid his guilt and tried to win from Dido, in her grief, -the immense treasures of Sichæus. But her intelligence, and her love for -her murdered husband, could not be long deceived. She discovered her -brother’s guilt, and realizing that to remain in Tyre would mean her -death too, she instantly laid plans to leave the country. It was to be -no timid surrender, however. She gathered about her all those who hated -Pygmalion’s tyranny, and proposed that they should join her. Ships were -seized and rapidly manned: Sichæus’ wealth was stored in them, and Dido -sailed to found a new city on the coast of Africa. - -At the moment when Æneas landed there, the building of the city was in -eager progress; and Dido, the brain of the enterprise, was beginning to -forget her sorrow in the joy of achievement. When Æneas climbed the hill -above the bay, he saw the city stretched beneath, and the Tyrians busy -upon it ‘like bees in summer fields.’ Walls were rising, trenches were -being dug and foundations laid: houses and streets were already -finished: great blocks were being hewn for the citadel and columns for -the theatre; while in the centre of the town, complete in every detail -of ornament, a magnificent temple stood. Here Æneas made his way, -passing invisibly through the crowded street by the spells of Venus. As -he stood gazing at the walls, marvelling to see that they were carved -with the history of his Troy, a shout arose. The great queen was coming. - - _Queen Dido, beautiful beyond compare, - Enters the temple, by a mighty train - Of youths attended. Like Diana she, - When on Eurotas’ banks, or on the heights - Of Cynthus, she the dances leads ... - A quiver on her shoulders, as she moves._[34] - -Dido took her seat upon a throne raised high beneath the central dome, -surrounded by her guards. Before her thronged the captains of her great -work, merchants, emissaries from distant states, and many of her own -folk who had come to petition her for justice. She was the ruling -spirit, and by no mere accident. Æneas stood in amazement at the scene, -as she allotted to each his task, and adjudged every difficult question, -and dispensed the law. - -Suddenly there was a tumult outside the gate, and a noisy interruption, -as a band of foreigners approached the temple and claimed audience of -the queen. The strangers were brought in, and Æneas, in joyful -astonishment, recognized in them the comrades who he had thought were -lost. He longed to rush forward to greet them, but Venus’ spell was on -him still; and he stood invisible while the Trojans threw themselves on -the mercy of the queen and implored her help. She answered kindly, and -with modest dignity. Long ago she had heard and pitied the fate of Troy, -she said; and though she is bound to guard her infant state against -invasion, she has no quarrel with a peaceful folk, and least of all with -fugitives from Troy. She will, if they so desire, send them away in -safety, with provision from her ample store. - - “_But should you wish to settle here with me, - This city I am building, it is yours. - Draw up your ships. Without distinction both - Trojan and Tyrian I alike will treat. - Oh, would that driven by the same South Wind, - Tour king Æneas self were here!_“[34] - -Æneas could keep silence no longer. Breaking the spell of darkness that -was shrouding him, he gained the throne and stood before the astonished -queen. - - “_I, whom thou seekest, here before thee stand— - Trojan Æneas._“[34] - -It is a great moment, fraught with significance of which the two chief -actors seem to have a perception. To Dido, this handsome prince whose -fame has reached her, and whose melancholy history is so like her own, -seems to have flashed upon her as the fulfilment of her wish. And to -Æneas, who has just learned that she can be kind as well as brave, she -seems peerless among women. While from each to each is passed the silent -intuitive sense that here is a nature great and good. Æneas, touched by -her generosity to his comrades, tries to thank her. But he feels that -only the gods can reward her adequately. - - “_If powers divine - There be, who look with reverence on the good, - If anywhere be justice, or a soul - Conscious of inward worth, oh, may the Gods - Confer on thee commensurate reward!... - So long as rivers to the ocean run, - So long as shadows hang on mountain sides, - Long as the firmament is gemmed with stars, - Thy name and fame and praise with me shall live, - Whatever lands may claim me._“[34] - -In the warmth of his words there is a hint of coming passion; and -thinking of the tragic end, there is something ominous in them too. -Æneas will indeed remember Dido in far-off lands, but otherwise than he -imagines. And she, as she invites the Trojans to banquet in her palace -and hospitably begs them to make their home in Carthage, is serenely -unconscious of the pitiful entreaties that she will one day make to -Æneas. - -The ships were laid up, and generous provision made for the weary -sailors, while their chief and his friends were feasted by the queen in -Oriental splendour and luxury. Rich gifts from Troy were presented to -Dido by Æneas, and received by her with great delight. There were the -jewels of Ilione, King Priam’s eldest daughter: the sceptre that she had -borne, her diadem of gold and gems, and the pearls that once hung about -her neck. They were scarcely of happy omen, one would think; but more -ill-fated still were the presents that Dido found most beautiful. - - _A mantle stiff with figures, and with gold, - A veil, too, with a border wrought about - Of saffron-flowered acanthus, ornaments - Of Argive Helen._[34] - -Yet no shadow from their history fell upon the queen. She was strangely -happy as she listened to her guest and caressed his beautiful little -son. She did not know that the mighty love-goddess was plotting against -her; and when the feast was over, she rose to pour a libation to the -gods with a prayer for peace and blessing. - - “_Oh Jupiter! for thou, they say, art he - Who gives the laws that govern host and guest, - Grant that this day a day of joy may be - To us of Tyre, and these our guests from Troy, - A day to be remembered by our sons! - May Bacchus the Joy-Bringer be with us, - And Juno the Beneficent._“[34] - -When the Fourth Book opens Æneas is still the honoured guest of the -queen, entertained by her at the banquet as each succeeding night falls, -and accompanying her during the day as she rides to inspect the progress -of her city. But Dido was no longer quite untroubled in her happiness. -She could not hide from herself her growing love for the Trojan hero; -and she was assailed by a sense of wrong to her dead husband. - -At first she fought against her passion and called up every resource of -pride and modesty to hide it from the prince. But the emotion of a -richly dowered nature was not easily to be kept in check; and Dido had -not learned to dissemble. The inner conflict grew daily stronger, -absorbing every thought: on the one hand drawing her irresistibly toward -Æneas, and on the other claiming fidelity to the memory of Sichæus. At -last, craving relief and counsel, she confided in her sister Anna. But -Anna was no idealist, and her advice to Dido was the plainest -commonsense. Was she to waste all her life for the sake of faith to the -dead? It was certain that Sichæus himself would not desire it; and why -then should Dido renounce the joys of love and motherhood? Why pine -alone all her days, her country menaced on every side by wild African -tribes, because she had no warrior at her side to make them fear? So the -argument ran, turning adroitly from questions of sentiment to the call -of patriotism and ambition. Undoubtedly Dido was right in refusing -marriage with the barbarian chiefs who had asked for her hand; but she -must remember that she had thereby made enemies of them. Let her -consider the danger to her little state from these jealous kings; and on -the other hand let her think of the power and glory which Carthage might -win, if only it were allied to the race of Troy. Lastly, added the -astute pleader, with a word which she knew had power to move her sister, -for her part she believed that the coming of Æncas was ordained by -heaven, and by Juno herself, the great goddess of marriage. - -No wonder that Dido’s resolution was weakened, when every instinct of -her being was thus championed, and the only opponent was an idea, an -abstraction, that even to herself began to look fantastic. Again she -begged her guest to remain in Carthage, and the memory of Sichæus began -rapidly to fade. - - _Now Dido leads - Æneas round the ramparts, to him shows - The wealth of Sidon, all the town laid out, - Begins to speak, then stops, she knows not why._[34] - -Then at night, when the guests are gone from the banquet: when— - - _The wan moon pales her light, and waning stars - Persuade to sleep, she in her empty halls - Mourns all alone, and throws herself along - The couch where he had lain._[34] - -Æneas himself was losing all thought of his mission in the society of -the lovely queen. Italy was forgotten in the peace and luxury of his -life; and he gave himself up to content, without one glance beyond the -present. He had toiled so long and hard; surely he might take his ease -for a while. Moreover, it would be mere churlishness to refuse Dido’s -gracious bounty; and he could not be so ungentle. So both the lovers -wrapped themselves in a golden dream, with reality shut far away. - - _The unfinished flanking turrets cease to rise, - No more the young men exercise in arms, - Build harbours, or rear bastions for defence; - All work is at a standstill—giant walls - That frown defiance, cranes that climb the sky._[34] - -All the happy toil of brain and muscle was suspended, and Carthage, -silent in the sun all day, gave itself up, like its queen, to idleness -and revelry. The weeks slipped quickly by, and one by one the restraints -which her clear spirit had imposed were loosened or forgotten. And then -the autumn came, and the fatal day of the hunt, when Dido gave herself -without reserve or shame to her lover. - - _The nymphs - Along the mountain-tops were heard to wail. - That day bred death, disasters manifold; - For now she took no heed what men might say._[34] - -She who had been so proud and chaste, whose wisdom and fidelity had been -the fame of all the countries round about, was now the prey of every -evil tongue. Rumour flew from city to city, soiling her fair name; and -soon it was known in all the jealous neighbouring lands that the queen -of Carthage had joined herself in unlawful union with Æneas, Prince of -Troy. The reputation that had been so painfully won was quickly lost; -and not one of her many qualities were remembered. The courage and quick -wit and resource, the generous hospitality, the impartial judgment, the -kindness and tender sympathy—were all forgotten. - -Dido knew of the malignance and scorn that were smouldering about her; -but she was too honest to hide her sin, and secure in Æneas’ love, she -paid no heed. Together they recommenced the work which had lain idle so -long; and as winter came, the towers began to rise again. - -But now the gods grew envious of the little barbarian state, and Jupiter -turned an angry glance upon Æneas. Was this the end for which he had -been saved from Troy—to make his home among a savage people, heedless of -the divine command? Has he so poor a soul that he is content to spend -his days in dalliance while the fair land of Italy cries out for a hand -to govern it? Let Mercury carry to the prince this warning from the -ruler of Olympus: - - “_With what hopes lingers he - ‘Mongst hostile races, heedless of the great - Ausonian line, and the Lavinian plains? - Let him put out to sea! My last word this._“[34] - -The message fell upon Æneas with a shock of fear and remorse. His dream -was shattered: his sleeping conscience suddenly sprang to life, and in a -flash he saw the long months spent in Carthage as treachery to the gods, -to his countrymen, and to the son who was to inherit the great Roman -state. In a rush of penitence, his first thought was to flee instantly: -to leave at once and for ever the land that had seen his folly. But the -moment after he remembered Dido, and realized in horror all the -suffering that he would bring to her. He knew the intensity of her love; -and recalling all her kindness to him and his, he could not summon -courage to face her and tell her that he must go. Weakly he resolved to -prepare in secret for departure; and orders were sent down to the ships -to fit out with all speed. But the unworthy act was bound to bring -disaster. Word was soon brought to the queen that the Trojan fleet was -being furtively prepared for sea, and she leapt to the obvious -conclusion. Æneas intended to forsake her—and to go by stealth. All her -frank nature revolted at the deception. That he should wish to go at -all, lightly flinging away her love and honour, was a thing that her own -fidelity had never suspected; but to steal away thus was baseness that -drove her to fury. Her ungoverned Oriental rage was loosed upon him. - - “_False as thou art, and didst thou hope, ay, hope - To keep thy infamous intent disguised, - And steal away in silence from my realm?_“[34] - -[Illustration: - - THE DEATH OF DIDO - - _Gianbattista Tiepolo_ - - _By Permission of Ad Braun et Cie._ -] - -But the first gust of anger past, she dropped to a softer mood and -besought him by every tender plea that her tongue could frame, not to -leave her—by their great love: by her trust in him, and the pledge that -he had given her; by the constant service that she had paid him, and all -that she had forfeited for his sake. - - “_Because of thee it is, the Libyan tribes, - And Nomad chieftains hate me; my own people - Are turned against me; all because of thee - My woman’s honour has been blotted out, - And former fair good name whereby alone - I held my head aloft. To whom dost thou - Abandon me, a woman marked for death? - My guest, my guest! Since only by that name - I am to know my husband!_“[34] - -It would seem that her anguish must melt a heart of stone, but Æneas -remained apparently immovable. Before him still shone the vision of the -god, and in his ears Jove’s message rang insistently. Controlling every -tender impulse, he answered in words that were made harsh by restraint. -To Dido their coldness was as cruel as death and far more bitter. She -did not know the gentle Æneas in the grip of the force that was driving -him, transforming him into a monster of ingratitude. - - “_This man thrown up a beggar on my shores, - I took him in, insanely gave him up - A portion of my realm, from very death - Redeemed his comrades, saved his scattered ships. - ... Go! Make for Italy! - Chased by the winds, across the wild waves seek - These vaunted kingdoms! But in sooth I hope, - If the benignant Gods can aught avail, - Vengeance will strike thee midway on the rocks, - Calling and calling upon Dido’s name._“[34] - -She was borne away fainting, and Æneas, racked by pity that he dare not -show, made his way down to the harbour to hasten the sailing of the -fleet. Day by day his men toiled with a will, for they were sick of -inaction and eager to get away, although winter was already upon them. -And watching from her tower, Dido saw each day’s work completed with -deeper misery, and a growing sense of despair. Very soon now all would -be ready; the day was rapidly approaching when Æneas would trust himself -to that stormy winter sea, with small chance, as she knew, of ever -reaching Latium. At the thought of that final parting and of her lover’s -danger, Dido’s anger melted, and every vestige of her pride was swept -away. She could not and would not let him go like this. At the risk of -worse humiliation still, she would make another effort to keep him in -Carthage, at least until the stormy season should be passed. In feverish -haste she called Anna and sent a poignant message. - - “_In pity of my love, - Let him concede this boon—the last I crave,— - And wait propitious winds to speed his flight._“[34] - -But Æneas is inexorable, and when Anna returns to the queen with his -refusal, it adds the last intolerable touch to her pain and shame. -Nightlong she roams the palace, like one distraught; and finding her way -to the tomb of Sichæus, she prays to die. Strange omens answer her; and -to her maddened brain it seems that the voice of her husband is calling -her to come to him. The water of her libation turns black as she pours -it upon the altar, and the wine congeals to blood. The high gods have -answered her: they approve her purpose. - -As soon as day comes, she begins with deliberate care to make all ready -for her death. Under her directions, a great pyre is built within the -courtyard, on which the queen announces that she intends to offer a -solemn sacrifice. Every relic of Æneas is gathered and laid upon it; his -armour, his cloak and his sword; while all about it Dido herself hangs -garlands and funeral chaplets. Her sister and her women wonder, but have -no hint of her intention. When night falls and all the palace is sunk in -sleep, Dido stands again before the altar and consecrates herself for -the sacrifice. But she cannot yet take the fatal step. She longs for one -more look from her watch-tower, down upon the ships that are so soon to -carry her lover away. So she strains her eyes through the darkness, only -to find, with the first gleam of light, that the harbour is bare. The -fleet has sailed: Æneas, warned by a vision from Jove, has fled in the -night. A bitter cry escapes her: - - “_Oh rare - Fidelity and honour! And they say, - He takes his household gods about with him, - And on his shoulders bore his aged sire!_“[34] - -She calls upon the great powers of Earth and Sky and the dreadful -Underworld to avenge her wrongs; and looking forward to the years that -are to come, she invokes upon Æneas and his descendants the curse that -followed the Roman race through many generations: - - “_So then do you, - My Tyrians, harry with envenomed hate - His race and kin through ages yet to come: - Be this your tribute to my timeless death!... - Let coast conflict with coast, and sea with sea. - Embattled host with host, and endless war - Be waged, ‘twixt their and your posterity!_“[34] - -Then, rushing to the courtyard, she climbs the great pyre, and grasps -Æneas’ sword. For one moment, ere she falls upon it, the frenzy lifts -from her brain and shows her all the course of her troubled life. - - “_Lo! I have lived my life, have run the course - Assigned to me by fate; now ‘neath the earth - I go, the queenly shade of what I was. - I have built a goodly city; I have seen - Its walls complete; I have avenged my spouse, - And struck my cruel brother blow for blow!..._ - - “_This heartless Trojan, let him from the waves - Drink in with startled eyes the funeral fires, - And bear with him the presage of my death!_”[34] - -So the founder of Carthage died; and the father of great Rome, looking -back with remorseful eyes from his fleeing ship, saw the flames of her -pyre reddening the dawn. - ------ - -Footnote 34: - - From Sir Theodore Martin’s translation of the _Æneid_ (Wm. Blackwood & - Sons). - - - - -_Index_ - - - Absyrtus, 229, 230 - - Achilles, 24, 30, 33, 34, 40, 41, 139, 140, 257, 266, 274 - - Admetus, 212, 213, 214, 215, 216, 217, 218, 219, 220, 221, 222, 223, - 224, 225, 226 - - Adrastus, 190 - - Aeêtes, 229 - - Ægeus, 238 - - Æneas, 37, 273, 274, 275, 276, 277, 278, 279, 280, 281, 282, 283, 284, - 285, 286, 287 - - Æschylus, 101, 102, 103, 104, 118, 132, 133, 136, 137, 139, 148, 150, - 151, 163, 164, 165, 168, 187, 190, 209, 257 - - Aeolus, King, 62 - - Agamemnon, 35, 39, 58, 59, 103, 104, 105, 106, 107, 108, 109, 110, 111, - 112, 113, 114, 117, 118, 120, 127, 129, 136, 140, 142, 143, 146, - 152, 256, 257, 258, 259, 262, 266, 267, 268 - - Aigeus, 190 - - Ajax, 23 - - Alcestis, 209, 210, 211, 212, 213, 214, 215, 216, 217, 218, 220, 221, - 222, 223, 224, 225, 226, 227 - - Alcinous, 60, 62, 85, 90, 93, 94, 97, 230 - - Alcmena, 42 - - Andromache, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 140 - - Andromeda, 22 - - Anna, 281, 286 - - Antigone, 22, 150, 166, 171, 186, 187, 188, 189, 191, 192, 193, 194, - 195, 196, 199, 200, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205, 206, 207 - - Antinous, 42, 46, 47 - - Aphrodite, 18, 19, 20, 23, 25, 26, 244, 245, 246, 250, 255 - - Apollo, 97, 105, 109, 112, 113, 118, 123, 126, 129, 131, 133, 135, 137, - 140, 144, 146, 168, 169, 172, 173, 181, 189, 212, 213, 214, 226, - 238, 258, 271 - - Ares, 21, 40 - - Arete, Queen, 85, 97, 230 - - Argus, 157, 158 - - Artemis, 92, 93, 213, 244, 246, 247, 255, 257, 258, 261, 262, 271, 272 - - Astyanax, 35, 36, 37 - - Atè, 115, 132 - - Athena, 18, 19, 24, 30, 31, 42, 44, 45, 46, 50, 55, 76, 85, 87, 88, 89, - 92, 93, 95, 97, 137, 256, 272 - - Athene (_see_ Athena) - - Atlas, 76, 151 - - Augustus, 273 - - - Bacchus, 280 - - - Cadmus, 149, 163, 206 - - Calypso, 43, 60, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 81, 82, 83, 84, 87 - - Camilla, 12 - - Cassandra, 35, 109, 112, 135, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141, 142, 143, - 144, 145, 164 - - Castor, 23 - - Charon, 218 - - Charybdis, 72 - - Chiron, 228 - - Chrysothomis, 165 - - Cilix, 149 - - Circe, 60, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 230 - - Clytemnestra, 102, 103, 104, 105, 106, 107, 108, 109, 110, 112, 113, - 114, 115, 116, 117, 118, 119, 120, 121, 123, 127, 129, 130, 131, - 137, 143, 144, 164, 165, 256, 257, 258, 266 - - Creon, 12, 171, 172, 173, 174, 176, 177, 178, 185, 186, 187, 188, 190, - 193, 194, 196, 197, 198, 199, 200, 201, 202, 203, 204, 206, 207, - 231, 232, 234, 235, 241 - - Creusa, 276 - - Cronos, 151, 157 - - Cyclôpes, 269 - - Cypris, 244, 250, 251 - - - Diana, 277 - - Dido, 10, 12, 273, 274, 275, 276, 277, 279, 280, 281, 282, 283, 284, - 285, 286, 287 - - Diomedes, 30 - - Dionysus, 101 - - - Eëtion, 30 - - Egisthus, 106, 107, 115, 117, 121, 124, 127, 130 - - Electra, 12, 116, 118, 119, 120, 121, 123, 124, 125, 126, 127, 128, - 129, 130, 132, 133, 134, 164, 166 - - Elpenor, 71 - - Enone, 18, 21 - - Epaphus, 149, 161 - - Epicasta, 167 - - Erinys, 115 - - Eteocles, 171, 188, 190, 191, 193, 197 - - Euripides, 10, 35, 102, 132, 133, 136, 137, 150, 209, 210, 211, 212, - 214, 231, 243, 247, 256 - - Europa, 149 - - Euryclea, 50, 53, 57 - - Eurydice, 208 - - Eurylochus, 67 - - Eurystheus, 216, 220 - - - Force, 152 - - - Glaucé, 231, 237, 239, 240, 241 - - - Hæmon, 202, 203, 204, 207 - - Hector, 21, 24, 25, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 139, 273 - - Hecuba, 29, 32, 35, 36, 140, 141 - - Hekabe (_see_ Hecuba) - - Helen, 12, 15, 16, 17, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, - 35, 37, 41, 42, 43, 103, 135, 138, 141, 259, 265 - - Helenus, 37 - - Hephæstus, 152, 153 - - Hera, 18, 19, 24, 33, 98, 148, 150, 156, 169 - - Heracles, 161, 220, 221, 223, 224, 225, 226, 270 - - Hermes, 65, 66, 77, 78, 79, 119 - - Hesiod, 152 - - Hippolytus, 243, 244, 245, 246, 249, 251, 252, 253, 254 - - Homer, 9, 11, 12, 16, 25, 29, 58, 65, 73, 85, 87, 99, 163, 167, 274 - - Hymen, 141 - - - Icarius, 46, 59, 60 - - Idomeneus, 23, 139 - - Ilione, 280 - - Inachus, 150, 157, 158 - - Io, 148, 149, 150, 151, 157, 158, 160, 161, 162, 164, 167 - - Iphigenia, 103, 104, 105, 121, 211, 256, 257, 259, 260, 261, 262, 263, - 264, 265, 267, 268, 269, 270, 271 - - Ismene, 166, 171, 192, 194, 195, 196, 201, 202 - - Iulus, 276 - - - Jason, 228, 229, 230, 231, 232, 233, 234, 235, 236, 237, 238, 239, 240, - 242 - - Jocasta, 150, 163, 166, 167, 168, 170, 171, 177, 178, 179, 180, 181, - 182, 183, 184, 185 - - Jove, 108, 287 - - Juno, 276, 280 - - Jupiter, 280, 283 - - - Laertes, 59 - - Laius, 168, 169, 170, 171, 173, 175, 178, 179, 181 - - Leto, 261 - - Loxias, 141, 180 - - - Medea, 211, 228, 229, 230, 231, 232, 234, 235, 236, 238, 239, 240, 241, - 242, 243, 247 - - Medon, 48, 49 - - Menelaus, 17, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 25, 26, 27, 35 - - Mercury, 283 - - Merope, 169, 180, 182 - - Minos, 53 - - Mycene, 42 - - - Nausicaa, 60, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98 - - Neoptolemus, 140 - - - Oceanus, 153, 154 - - Odysseus, 23, 27, 39, 40, 41, 43, 44, 46, 48, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, - 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 71, 72, 73, 74, - 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 87, 88, 89, 90, 92, 93, - 94, 96, 97, 98, 140, 274 - - Œdipus, 12, 166, 167, 168, 169, 170, 171, 172, 173, 174, 175, 176, 177, - 178, 179, 180, 181, 182, 183, 184, 185, 187, 188, 189, 190, 191, - 192, 195, 201 - - Orestes, 118, 119, 121, 122, 123, 124, 125, 126, 127, 128, 129, 130, - 131, 133, 164, 165, 256, 257, 258, 259, 260, 261, 262, 263, 264, - 265, 266, 267, 268, 269, 270, 272 - - Othryoneus, 138 - - - Paris, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 23, 29, 30, 137, 138, 276 - - Patroclus, 33, 34 - - Pelias, 212, 228, 230, 231 - - Pelops, 262 - - Penelope, 39, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, - 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 75, 79, 82, 86, 87, 163, 164 - - Persephone, 69, 70 - - Phædra, 211, 243, 244, 245, 246, 247, 248, 249, 250, 251, 252, 254 - - Phemius, 45 - - Pheres, 222, 223 - - Phoebus, 173 - - Pollux, 23 - - Polybus, 168, 169, 180, 181, 182, 183 - - Polynices, 171, 188, 190, 191, 192, 193, 194, 196, 197, 198, 207 - - Polyxena, 140 - - Poseidon, 27, 39, 40, 87, 88, 94, 189, 191, 254 - - Priam, 17, 18, 22, 24, 25, 29, 30, 32, 34, 35, 36, 109, 135, 137, 138, - 280 - - Prometheus, 149, 151, 152, 153, 154, 155, 156, 157, 158, 159, 160, 161, - 162, 189 - - Pygmalion, 276, 277 - - Pylades, 118, 119, 130, 131, 258, 261, 263, 264, 267, 268 - - - Rhodius, Apollonius, 228 - - - Scylla, 72 - - Sichæus, 276, 277, 281, 282, 286 - - Sophocles, 102, 132, 133, 150, 163, 165, 166, 172, 186, 194, 206, 209, - 210 - - - Talthybius, 140, 142 - - Tantalus, 103, 123 - - Telemachus, 27, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 50, 51, 55, 56 - - Themis, 162 - - Theseus, 189, 190, 191, 243, 248, 253, 254 - - Thetis, 33, 41 - - Thoas, 259, 261, 267, 270, 271, 272 - - Tiresias, 69, 70, 170, 171, 174, 175, 178, 206 - - Tyndareus, 19, 20, 41 - - Typhon, 151 - - Tyro, 42 - - - Venus, 276, 277, 278 - - Virgil, 9, 12, 273, 274 - - - Zeus, 18, 24, 27, 32, 33, 41, 47, 49, 50, 54, 65, 73, 76, 77, 78, 79, - 93, 94, 97, 98, 112, 126, 127, 128, 148, 149, 151, 152, 153, 154, - 155, 156, 157, 158, 160, 161, 167, 200, 226 - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - 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display: block;} } - img {max-width: 100%; height:auto; } - .ph1 { text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; font-size: xx-large; - margin: .67em auto; } - </style> - </head> - <body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Women of the Classics, by Mary C. Sturgeon - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Women of the Classics - -Author: Mary C. Sturgeon - -Release Date: November 9, 2016 [EBook #53487] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOMEN OF THE CLASSICS *** - - - - -Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class='tnotes covernote'> - -<p class='c000'><strong>Transcriber's Note:</strong></p> - -<p class='c000'>The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='ph1'> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>WOMEN OF</div> - <div>THE CLASSICS</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div id='Frontispiece' class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/i_004.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic001'> -<p>PHÆDRA<br /><br /><em>Gertrude Demain Hammond, R.I.</em></p> -</div> -</div> -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c002' /> -</div> - -<div> - <h1 class='c003'>WOMEN OF<br /> <span class='xlarge'>THE CLASSICS</span></h1> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div><span class='large'>BY MARY C. STURGEON</span></div> - <div class='c004'>WITH SIXTEEN PHOTOGRAVURES</div> - <div>PRESENTING STUDIES OF THE</div> - <div>HEROINES OF THE BOOK</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id002'> -<img src='images/title_page.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div><span class='small'>LONDON</span></div> - <div>GEORGE G. HARRAP & COMPANY</div> - <div><span class='small'>2 & 3 PORTSMOUTH STREET KINGSWAY W.C.</span></div> - <div><span class='small'>MCMXIV</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c004' /> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>PRINTED AT</div> - <div>THE BALLANTYNE PRESS</div> - <div>LONDON ENGLAND</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c004' /> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span> - <h2 class='c005'><em>Contents</em></h2> -</div> - -<table class='table0' summary='Contents'> - <tr> - <th class='c006'></th> - <th class='c006'> </th> - <th class='c007'>PAGE</th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006' colspan='2'>INTRODUCTION</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_9'>9</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006' colspan='2'>WOMEN OF HOMER</td> - <td class='c007'> </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'> </td> - <td class='c006'>HELEN</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_15'>15</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'> </td> - <td class='c006'>ANDROMACHE</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_29'>29</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'> </td> - <td class='c006'>PENELOPE</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_39'>39</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'> </td> - <td class='c006'>CIRCE</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_60'>60</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'> </td> - <td class='c006'>CALYPSO</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_73'>73</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'> </td> - <td class='c006'>NAUSICAA</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_85'>85</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006' colspan='2'>WOMEN OF ATTIC TRAGEDY</td> - <td class='c007'> </td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'><em>I.</em></td> - <td class='c006'><em>ÆSCHYLUS</em></td> - <td class='c007'> </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'> </td> - <td class='c006'>CLYTEMNESTRA</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_99'>99</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'> </td> - <td class='c006'>ELECTRA</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_117'>117</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'> </td> - <td class='c006'>CASSANDRA</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_135'>135</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'> </td> - <td class='c006'>IO</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_148'>148</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'><em>II.</em></td> - <td class='c006'><em>SOPHOCLES</em></td> - <td class='c007'> </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'> </td> - <td class='c006'>JOCASTA</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_163'>163</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'> </td> - <td class='c006'>ANTIGONE</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_185'>185</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'><em>III.</em></td> - <td class='c006'><em>EURIPIDES</em></td> - <td class='c007'> </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'> </td> - <td class='c006'>ALCESTIS</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_209'>209</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'> </td> - <td class='c006'>MEDEA</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_227'>227</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'> </td> - <td class='c006'>PHÆDRA</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_243'>243</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'> </td> - <td class='c006'>IPHIGENIA</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_256'>256</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006' colspan='2'>A WOMAN OF VIRGIL</td> - <td class='c007'> </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'> </td> - <td class='c006'>DIDO</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_273'>273</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span> - <h2 class='c005'><em>Illustrations</em></h2> -</div> - -<table class='table0' summary='Illustrations'> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>PHÆDRA</td> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Gertrude Demain Hammond, R.I.</span></td> - <td class='c007'><em><a href='#Frontispiece'>Frontispiece</a></em></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <th class='c006'></th> - <th class='c006'> </th> - <th class='c007'><em>Facing page</em></th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>HELEN</td> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Lord Leighton</span></td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#HELEN'>20</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>ANDROMACHE</td> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Lord Leighton</span></td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#ANDROMACHE'>34</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>PENELOPE</td> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Patten Wilson</span></td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#PENELOPE'>50</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>CIRCE</td> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Patten Wilson</span></td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#CIRCE'>66</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>CALYPSO</td> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Patten Wilson</span></td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#CALYPSO'>82</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>NAUSICAA</td> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Patten Wilson</span></td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#NAUSICAA'>94</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>CLYTÆMNESTRA</td> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Hon. John Collier</span></td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#CLYTEMNESTRA'>114</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>ELECTRA</td> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Gertrude Demain Hammond, R.I.</span></td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#ELECTRA'>128</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>CASSANDRA</td> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Solomon J. Solomon, R.A.</span></td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#CASSANDRA'>140</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>JOCASTA</td> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Gertrude Demain Hammond, R.I.</span></td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#JOCASTA'>172</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>ANTIGONE</td> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>From the Statue by Hugues</span></td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#ANTIGONE'>192</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>ALCESTIS</td> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Lord Leighton</span></td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#ALCESTIS'>224</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>MEDEA</td> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Herbert Draper</span></td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#MEDEA'>238</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>IPHIGENIA</td> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>M. Nonnenbruch</span></td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#IPHIGENIA'>260</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>DIDO</td> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Gianbattista Tiepolo</span></td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#DIDO'>284</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span> - <h2 class='c005'><em>Introduction</em></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_4 c009'>The women in this book are the heroines of Homer, -of Attic Tragedy, and of the <cite>Æneid</cite> of Virgil. -Their stories are taken out of the best modern -translations of the old poems; and they are -retold from the human standpoint, with the minimum of -critical comment.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is curious, when we reflect a moment, how little we -really know about the women of the classics. Their names -have been familiar to us as long as we can remember. We -have always been vaguely conscious of a glory clothing -them—sometimes sombre and troubled, often gracious and -serene, occasionally enchanting. About the greatest of -them some floating hints of identity ripple on the surface -of the mind. But we can by no means fit these little -fragments into any clear outline of the sublime beauty of -their originals. And when we light upon a reference to -them in our reading, or stand before one of the innumerable -works of art which they have inspired, memory is baffled. -We have no clue to the spell that they have cast upon the -centuries: the spell itself has no power over us; and we -grope in vain for the key which would admit us to a world -of delight.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There were reasons for this state of affairs when translations -were few and costly: when scholars were merely pedants -and when the classics were sealed to women. But <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">nous -avons changé tout cela</span></i>. Fine translations can be bought for -a few shillings. Women are themselves engaging in the -study of the old languages and of the sciences which are -<span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>akin to them. Scholarship is growing more human; and -the awakened spirit of womanhood, having become conscious -of itself, cannot fail to be profoundly interested -in that earlier awakening which, twenty-five centuries -ago, evoked creatures so splendid. Of the women of -Attic Tragedy Professor Gilbert Murray has said, in his -<cite>Rise of the Greek Epic</cite>: “Consider for a moment the whole -magnificent file of heroines in Greek Tragedy, both for -good and evil.... I doubt if there has ever in the -history of the world been a period, not even excepting the -Elizabethan Age and the Nineteenth Century, when such -a gallery of heroic women has been represented in -Drama.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>By bringing these women together into a single volume, -it is hoped to make their stories easily accessible; and by -quoting some of the most beautiful passages from the poems -in which they live, it is hoped to send the reader back to -the poets themselves. It has not been possible to include -all the heroines in the available space; and several of those -who are missing have only been omitted under the direst -necessity. But all the greatest are here; and an effort has -been made to choose each group so that it shall represent -as far as may be the characteristics of its own poet. The -source of the story is indicated in each case, and has been -closely followed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A word may be necessary on one or two points, to those -who are coming to these stories from the classics with an -unfamiliar eye. It will be found that there is a singular -reticence here on that aspect of love which engrosses -modern literature. It is occasionally treated by Euripides; -but even he handles the theme delicately and with reserve. -Nowhere in these stories—with the exception of Dido, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>who of course belongs to a later civilization than the Greek -women—is the love which leads to marriage dealt with -explicitly. It is implicit sometimes, and we who have been -born into a heritage of romanticism, may delightedly trace -it out and make the most of it. But the old poet never does: -indeed, he hardly seems to realize that he has put it there. -He belongs to a time when women were not wooed and won, -but literally bought ‘with great store of presents,’ or -acquired in other prosaic ways, which vary according to -the several epochs and their customs. The love of men and -women is treated from the point of view of husband and -wife, of sister and brother, of daughter and father, rather -than from the standpoint of the feverish hopes and fears -of romantic passion. Marriage is not so much the culmination -as the starting-point of an eventful story; and the -heroic devotion of sister and daughter is crowned, no less -than wifely fidelity, with everlasting honour. We must -therefore be prepared for a change from the warmth -and glow of romance to the tonic air of a more austere -idealism.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Again, these women are not the complex creatures of modern -civilization. The earliest of them, Homer’s women, are -drawn in outline only. They are great and splendid; -and because they were created for an aristocratic audience, -they are noble, dignified, and placed high above the small -things of common life. There is hardly any comedy in -Homer, and reality is far away. When we come to the -dramatists we find, as we should expect, a great advance in -characterization. The women are stronger, more real, -more complete. But they are still very far from the psychological -subtlety of modern drama.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There is, too, a singular reticence about the personal -<span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>appearance of the heroines. We are rarely told what -manner of women they were to look at. Virgil comes one -step nearer to our modern love of description when he -portrays Dido as she rides out on the fatal morning of the -hunt; and when he paints the glowing figure of Camilla -as she rushes into battle. But it would be very hard to -discover what was the colour of Helen’s eyes, although -the old German <cite>Faustbuch</cite> of the Middle Age has dared -to assert that they were ‘black as coals.’ Homer has a -more excellent way. Instead of enumerating the charms of -his heroine, as it were in a catalogue of perfections, he -brings her into the presence of hostile folk, who on all -counts have reason to hate her, and in a few vivid phrases -shows the potent effect of her beauty upon them.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We shall find that the heroines have a system of ethics -which is different from that of our own day; and strange -moral contradictions may present themselves to our -astonished eyes. Electra, with the tenderest love for -her dead father, will not rest until the death of her guilty -mother has been compassed. Antigone, infinitely gentle -to the blind Œdipus, is capable of resolute opposition to -the law as it is embodied in Creon. But though the lines -of moral demarcation are differently placed, they are not -blurred. Revenge is a duty in this primitive saga upon -which the poets drew for their material; and in which -there is much that is savage and terrible.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Greek drama was a religious ritual closely bound to ancient -myth and heroic legend, from which the poets could not -escape. Hence, if these stories are approached in an -analytical mood, they will be found barbarous and wildly -improbable. If we give the rein to humour, we shall be -overcome by frequent absurdities. The best way is to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>come to them quite simply, leaving the comic and the -critical spirits a little way behind.</p> - -<hr class='c010' /> - -<p class='c000'>Grateful thanks are due to the translators and publishers -who have kindly given permission to quote the passages -used herein; and the author wishes humbly to acknowledge -the debt she owes to critical work in this field. -She is especially conscious of help from Professor Gilbert -Murray in interpreting some of the Women of Tragedy. -A note of the sources of the quotations will be found at -the end of each chapter.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span> - <h2 class='c005'><em>Homer: Helen</em></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_4 c009'>In the twilight of early Greek history, one event and -one name blaze like beacons. They are the siege of -Troy and the name of Helen. They have not come -down to us as cold fact, but burning through a -mist of legend and poetry. The historian cannot name -the date of the Trojan war; and the archæologist, whose -labours have been so fruitful at Mycenæ and in Crete, -can only point doubtfully to the ancient site of Troy.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Yet that event, and its cause, fair Helen of Sparta, may be -said to mark the beginning of national life for the Greeks. -Perhaps it was more than two thousand years before -Christ when all the little peoples of Greece first joined -themselves against barbarian Asia. Troy fell; and although -the victory brought little material reward to the Greeks; -though they sailed back to their island homes poorer -and sadder than when they left, they had in fact achieved -momentous gains. For the struggle had first taught -them the strength of unity: it had launched them on their -long and triumphant feud against barbarism; and it had -laid the base from which they might go on to build, through -the long, slow centuries, the civilization that we inherit.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There was no historian to record the event. But it lived -on, in memory and in legend; and as the people became -more settled, wandering bards made songs about it. The -rich Mycenæn Age flourished and died; and the Homeric -civilization took its place. Probably it was then that the floating -fragments of the Tale of Troy first were woven together, -providing material for the Homeric epics that we know -<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>as the <cite>Iliad</cite> and the <cite>Odyssey</cite>. Probably they were not -written down at first. They were composed, and recited, -in separate parts, in the halls of the great lords, who loved -to look back on this glorious event of their national life, -and to hear the names of their remote and half-mythical -ancestors brought into the story. Thus Homer, no matter -who he or his school may have been, comes to represent -a high stage of civilization. His poems have a lofty tone, -a chivalrous spirit, a sweet cleanliness of thought and of -word, which do not belong to a primitive, uncivilized -people. They do not, as a fact, belong naturally to the -early period of which he sings. In the time of that grim -struggle before the dawn of history, there must have been -much that was ugly, dark and barbarous. This is proved -to us by the survival of some of the older legends upon -which Homer worked. They tell of unnatural crime and -of deeds of horror such as he never mentions; and they -give us, too, a very different interpretation of the story of -Helen. Homer puts aside all these vestiges of a primitive -past. He is composing lays for a people who have a keen -sense of honour, a supreme ideal of beauty and a love of -home; who have a religious feeling strong enough to -reverence the gods, despite their many hieratic quarrels, -and who hold womanhood in high esteem. So when we -come to him to hear about Helen, we find a very sweet and -gracious figure, quite unlike the Helen of the later poets. -With them she was degraded from her rank of demi-god. -She was regarded as a real figure, brought down to the level -of ordinary existence, and judged by the common standard. -The romantic charm of the Homeric conception faded; and -her name had for centuries an evil sound. It has passed -through many vicissitudes since. In late Greek literature, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>one or two poets tried to return to the reverent attitude -of Homer: but in the Middle Ages she became again a -byword and a reproach. At the Renaissance, something -of her early worship as an ideal of beauty was revived, -and our own Marlowe has passionately expressed the thought -of that age about her:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Was this the face that launched a thousand ships,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss....</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>It is this vision of Helen, as the supreme ideal of beauty, -that modern poets and scholars have tried to recapture. -They have put aside the varied allegorical and ethical and -realistic conceptions of her, as the efforts of a more sophisticated -age; and they have tried to return directly to the -fine simplicity of Homer himself. Only thus, they believe, -can we stand at the right point of view with regard to Helen; -and only thus can we see her as she was to the Greeks, a -symbol of beauty incorruptible. We, who have to make -our own choice in the matter, cannot do better than -try to stand at the point where the moderns have -placed us.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We come then at once to the Iliad, where, in the Third -Book, Helen makes her first appearance in the world’s -literature. War has been raging round the walls of Troy -for nearly ten years. Now a truce is called; and in the -palace of the old king Priam, word goes round that Paris, -the author of the long feud, is to fight in single combat -with Menelaus, whom he has wronged. For Paris had -brought the bane of war upon Ilios. At his birth, the -oracles of the gods had demanded that he should die; and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>Priam, his father, sorrowfully handed over the wailing baby -to the priest, to be exposed upon Mount Ida. But first -he tied an old ring about his neck; and when Paris was -strangely saved from death, and grew up to be the fairest -and strongest of all the shepherd youths on Ida, he came -one day by accident to Ilios. There, by means of the jewel -hanging from his neck, he was made known as the son of -the king. Thenceforward the poor shepherd was the best -beloved of all the princes. Life went gaily; and for a -while he was utterly content. But he had left behind, -amidst the groves of Mount Ida, a sweet wood-nymph who -loved him well, Enone. And when after a time he began -to tire of life in the palace, he remembered her and thought -longingly of the freshness and beauty of the mountain. -So one day in summer he went to seek Enone. All day long -he searched the forest, but could not find her; and coming -tired at evening to a fragrant glade, he fell asleep. When -he awoke, night was hushed all around, and stars peeped -through the slender branches overhead. It was midnight -and there was no moon; but it was not dark. The glade -was filled with a soft radiance such as he had never seen -before, and when he raised his wondering eyes, he saw -the majestical figures of goddesses shining upon him: Hera, -queen of Olympus, Athena, the wise maid of Zeus, and -Aphrodite, the laughing goddess of love. Sweetly they -smiled on him; and as he stood in wondering awe, the deep, -rich tones of Hera sank upon his spirit, promising him -greatness and power, and the lordship over many lands. -Then Athena, resting her starlike gaze upon him, promised -him wisdom and courage; and Aphrodite, with a little -mocking laugh at power and at wisdom, promised him the -fairest woman in the world. Only, and this was to be the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>price of the gift, he was to be the arbiter between them: he -was to declare which was most beautiful.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There was only one answer possible to Paris. Ambition -had no lure for him. Why fight and strive and spend the -happy days in effort merely to be called great? And -wisdom had no appeal for him either; she seemed austere -and cold. What had she to do with the joy and grace and -sweetness that his soul loved? To the sublimity of Hera -he bent in awe. The shining purity of Athena smote -his glance to the earth. But the voice of Aphrodite -wooed him, and her winsome smile set him trembling with -delight. He reached out to her the golden prize of -beauty.</p> - -<p class='c000'>So Paris was to gain the fairest woman in the world. It -seemed an honest promise, full of the happiest portent; -and the young prince soon set out upon his search for a -bride over the western seas. But Aphrodite was no better -than a cheat, and had invoked on Paris, though he did not -know it then, the curse of guilty love. For the exquisite -child who was to be the world’s queen of beauty had grown -up in the home of Tyndareus, king of Sparta; and even -while the goddess gave her word to Paris, was happily -married to Menelaus there. To her and to her husband -Paris came in his wanderings, led unwittingly by the laughter-loving -goddess, and clothed by her in beauty like a god. -They feasted him and did him honour; and sitting at the -banquet which they made to him, he told the strange tale -of his life and his quest.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Helen listened to his story with a sudden prescience of -what was to come; and rising softly, left the banqueting -hall and went away to implore the goddess to avert the -doom. But she was no match for Aphrodite. Anger and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>entreaty could not move the wanton Olympian, but she -would grant one boon—Helen should be oblivious of all -her past. Under the spell, the love of husband and -child faded out; and even the memory of them vanished -when on that spring morning in the garden of the -palace, Paris met her beside the stream, ‘’twixt the -lily and the rose.’</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Then either looked on other with amaze</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>As each had seen a god; for no long while</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>They marvell’d, but as in the first of days,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The first of men and maids did meet and smile,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And Aphrodite did their hearts beguile,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>So hands met hands, lips lips, with no word said</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Were they enchanted ‘neath the leafy aisle,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And silently were wooed, betroth’d and wed.</em><a id='r1' /><a href='#f1' class='c011'><sup>[1]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Together they fled in the dewy morning, Paris urging his -horses with guilty haste to the ships. And there, with -Menelaus thundering along the road after them, they set -sail for Troy, fulfilling the old prophecy, and lighting a -brand by their deed which should burn the sacred city -to the ground. For Tyndareus, when he chose a husband -for Helen amongst her many suitors, had won a promise -that they would all defend the one who gained her. Agamemnon, -brother to Menelaus, and the great overlord of -the Hellenic princes, now summoned the allies to avenge -his brother, and for ten years they toiled at fitting out a -fleet. Then they ‘launched a thousand ships,’ and sailed -to punish Ilios for the sin of Paris.</p> - -<div id='HELEN' class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/i_023.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic001'> -<p>HELEN OF TROY<br /><br /><em>Lord Leighton</em><br /><br /><em>By permission of Henry Graves & Co Ltd</em></p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>Meantime, Helen had wakened sadly from the spell of -Aphrodite. Little by little memory of her home came -back, and with it came remorse. She was lonely too, and -disillusion crept upon her. The Trojans, who at first had -welcomed her as a goddess, soon began to look askance at -her when rumours came of the great siege that was preparing. -Mothers and wives of the Trojan princes held -aloof; and soon the only friends left to her were the -kind old king and Hector, the noble defender of the city. -But there was worse behind. Little by little the truth -dawned that Paris, for whom she had lost so much, and -who had seemed so godlike in his strength and beauty, -was very poor humanity indeed. The story of Enone was -told to her; and that showed him unfaithful. And when -the Leaguer actually lay beneath the walls, she soon found -that Paris was a coward too.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Now, in this Third Iliad, we find that the cruel siege had -wasted Troy for nearly ten years. The armies, reduced -by death and pestilence and famine, were beginning to -murmur against the worthless cause of all their misery; -and Paris, for very shame, could no longer shelter himself -within the city. At this eleventh hour he issued out to -meet Menelaus in single combat. Helen was sitting in -her inner hall, weaving a purple web and embroidering -upon it the battle scenes which ebbed and flowed around -the walls. Time and sorrow had only given her beauty -an added charm. She was still young, fresh, and exquisitely -fair, as on that spring morning in Lacedaemon when -Aphrodite graced her for the meeting with Paris. To her, -as her sweet face bent over the web, the goddess Iris brought -the news of the impending combat: “They that erst -waged tearful war upon each other in the plain, eager for -deadly battle, even they sit now in silence, and the battle -is stayed, and they lean upon their shields, and the tall -spears are planted by their sides. But Paris and Menelaus -dear to Ares will fight with their tall spears for thee; and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>thou wilt be declared the dear wife of him that conquereth.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>At the name of Menelaus a wave of homesickness filled -Helen’s heart. Great tears flooded her eyes, and drawing -on a shining veil, she left her embroideries and hastened -out to the Skaian gates to watch the duel. But there, -sitting upon the tower, were Priam and his counsellors; -and Helen and her maids hesitated at sight of them. They -were feeble old men. The fire and strength of youth had -gone, leaving in their place the cold wisdom of age. They -and their people had suffered deeply because of Helen; -and they had every cause to hate her. Yet as she approached, -veiled and slackening her pace from fear when she saw -them, all their wrongs were forgotten in wonderment at -her beauty. They who had potent reasons to revile her were -saying softly among themselves, almost in awe, as those -who had seen a vision: “’Small blame is it that Trojans -and well-greaved Achaians should for such a woman long -time suffer hardships; marvellously like is she to the -immortal goddesses to look upon.’ ... So said they; and -Priam lifted up his voice and called to Helen: ‘Come -hither, dear child, and sit before me, that thou mayst see -thy former husband and thy kinsfolk and thy friends. -I hold thee not to blame; nay, I hold the gods to blame -who brought on me the dolorous war of the Achaians’.” -“And Helen, fair among women, spake, and answered him: -‘Reverend art thou to me and dread, dear father of my -lord. Would that sore death had been my pleasure when -I followed thy son hither, and left my home and my kinsfolk -and my daughter in her girlhood and the lovely company -of mine age-fellows. But that was not so, wherefore I -pine with weeping’.”<a id='r2' /><a href='#f2' class='c011'><sup>[2]</sup></a></p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>Then Helen pointed out to the king and the elders the great -heroes of the Greek line: “This is wide-ruling Agamemnon, -one that is both a goodly king and mighty spearman. And -he was husband’s brother to me, ah shameless me; if ever -such an one there was.” Odysseus, too, and Ajax and Idomeneus, -she can see; but two whom her eyes seek longingly are -not there, her twin brothers, Castor and Pollux. “Either -they came not in the company from lovely Lacedaemon; -or they came hither indeed in their seafaring ships, but -now will not enter into the battle of the warriors, -for fear of the many scornings and revilings that are -mine.”<a href='#f2' class='c011'><sup>[2]</sup></a></p> - -<p class='c000'>Presently, Paris and Menelaus are engaged in fight below -the walls, with Helen looking on from above in fearful -expectancy. It was an unequal fight. Aphrodite had -joined the side of Paris; and when, despite her tricks, -Menelaus was gaining on his opponent, the goddess enveloped -Paris in a cloud and carried him off. In plain words, he ran -away; and Helen, shamed and indignant, received a -summons from Aphrodite to go to her cowardly lover. -She turned in wrath upon the goddess: “Strange queen, -why art thou desirous now to beguile me? Go and sit -thou by his side, and depart from the way of the gods; -neither let thy feet ever bear thee back to Olympus, but -still be vexed for his sake and guard him till he make thee -his wife or perchance his slave. But thither will I not go—that -were a sinful thing—to array the bed of him; all -the women of Troy will blame me hereafter; and I have -griefs untold within my soul.”<a href='#f2' class='c011'><sup>[2]</sup></a></p> - -<p class='c000'>Aphrodite triumphs, however, menacing Helen with terrible -threats; and leads her back to the house of Paris. Meanwhile, -the gods ‘on golden pavement round the board of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>Zeus’ had decreed that Troy should fall: Hera and Athena -were to wreak their vengeance upon it, for the insult of -Paris. The truce broken, the armies rushed into conflict -again, and two of the gods who were warring for Troy, -were driven back to Olympus. Then Hector came into -the palace to rouse his brother, and found him sitting in -Helen’s room, polishing his armour. To the scornful -reproaches of Hector, Paris gave only puerile answers, and -Helen turned from him to Hector in passionate scorn. -“Dear brother mine, would that on the day that my mother -bare me, a billow of the loud-sounding sea might have -swept me away before all these things came to pass. -Howbeit, seeing that the gods devised all these ills in this -wise, would that then I had been mated with a better -man, that felt dishonour and the multitude of men’s -reproachings. But as for him, neither has he now sound -heart, nor ever will have; therefore deem I moreover that -he will reap the fruit.”<a href='#f2' class='c011'><sup>[2]</sup></a></p> - -<p class='c000'>Hector answered her with a gentle word, and went out, -bearing on his shoulders the doom of Troy. In his -chivalrous kindness to Helen, he is a worthy son of Priam; -and when he was slain at last, fighting for his beloved city -alone with the terrible Achilles, Helen joined her lament -to those of his mother and his wife, in perhaps the most -noble tribute to his memory: “Hector, of all my brethren -of Troy, far dearest to my heart. Truly my lord is godlike -Paris who brought me to Troy-land; would that I had died -ere then. For this is now the twentieth year since I went -thence and am gone from my own native land, but never -yet heard I evil or despiteful word from thee; nay, if any -other haply upbraided me in the palace halls, whether -brother or sister of thine or brother’s fair-robed wife, or -<span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>thy mother, then wouldst thou soothe such with words -and refrain them, by the gentleness of thy spirit and by -thy gentle words. Therefore bewail I thee with pain at -heart, and my hapless self with thee, for no more is any left -in wide Troy-land to be my friend and kind to me, but all -men shudder at me.”<a href='#f2' class='c011'><sup>[2]</sup></a></p> - -<p class='c000'>Almost with these words the poem closes, telling us nothing -of the dreadful sack of Troy by the Achaians, after they -had entered the city through the device of the wooden -horse. Our last glimpse of Helen in the Iliad is as she wails -her mournful threnos over the body of Hector.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>And Helen’s sorrow brake into lament</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>As bursts a lake the barriers of a hill,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>For lost, lost, lost was that one friend who still</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Stood by her with kind speech and gentle heart.</em><a href='#f1' class='c011'><sup>[1]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>We hear no word of the Greek calamity in the fall of Achilles, -or how Paris was slain by the arrow of the outcast Philoctetes, -with perfect poetical justice. Nothing is told of the -massacre of Priam and his sons; of the burning of the -city; of the carrying off of its wealth and of its fair women -when the Greeks, sated with revenge at last, set sail for -Argos. And we hear no word of the most amazing -fact of all—the reconciliation of Helen and Menelaus. -We know from the <cite>Odyssey</cite> that they were reconciled, -but how, Homer does not say. Legend and song have -been busy with the theme, however, and the most -beautiful story has been woven by Andrew Lang into -his <cite>Helen of Troy</cite>. There we see how Aphrodite in -the midst of the slaughter and outrage, led Helen in -safety to the ships, while Menelaus raged through the -city seeking her, grimly determined to give her over to -the vengeance of the army.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span><em>But Helen found he never where the flame</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Sprang to the roofs, and Helen ne’er he found</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Where flocked the wretched women in their shame</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The helpless altars of the gods around....</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>So wounded to his hut and wearily</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Came Menelaus; and he bowed his head</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Beneath the lintel neither fair nor high;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And lo, queen Helen lay upon his bed,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Flush’d like a child asleep, and rosy-red,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And at his footstep did she wake and smile,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And spake: “My lord, how hath thy hunting sped?</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Methinks that I have slept a weary while.”</em><a href='#f1' class='c011'><sup>[1]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Lulled again by the arts of Aphrodite, Helen has completely -forgotten all that has happened in the dreadful interval -of the years since she last fell asleep at Lacedaemon. But -Menelaus feels the fierce anger rise in his heart against her. -He seizes and binds her, and carries her off to deliver her -to the vengeance of the people. He reminds them of all -they have endured and suffered, and calls upon them to -mete to her the just death for such an one as she. But when -the soldiers in their rage would have stoned her; when -Menelaus rushed upon her with uplifted spear, Aphrodite -drew the veil from before her matchless face.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>And as in far-off days that were to be,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The sense of their own sin did men constrain,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>That they must leave the sinful woman free</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Who, by their law, had verily been slain,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>So Helen’s beauty made their anger vain,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And one by one their gathered flints let fall;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And like men shamed they stole across the plain,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Back to the swift ships and their festival.</em><a href='#f1' class='c011'><sup>[1]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>So Helen went home to Lacedaemon again, the dear wife -of Menelaus. And when we take up the second great -<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>Homeric epic, the <cite>Odyssey</cite>, we find her the serene and -gracious hostess of young Telemachus. All the hateful -past is purged away, and chaste as the moon-goddess,</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Forth of her high-roofed, odorous chamber came</em></div> - <div class='line in2'><em>Helen, like golden-shafted Artemis.</em><a id='r3' /><a href='#f3' class='c011'><sup>[3]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>She still remembers the horror of those days; and when -Menelaus is wondering who the stranger prince is who -has sought their hospitality, Helen’s quick wit perceives -how like he is to Odysseus. Is not this, she asks, the son -whom Odysseus left in his house as a new-born child -when the war began?</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>And for the sake of me who knew not shame</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Under Troy town your host Achaean came.</em>”<a href='#f3' class='c011'><sup>[3]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>It is indeed the son of Odysseus; and by the irony of fate -he has come to inquire from the very author of his sorrows, -news of the father who, for aught Helen knows, has long -ago been driven by Poseidon to the House of Hades.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Wept Argive Helen, child of Zeus, and wept</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Telemachus, and with him at the word</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Wept Menelaus.</em><a href='#f3' class='c011'><sup>[3]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>But the ready tears of heroes are soon dried. They cheer -Telemachus so far as they may by tales of his father’s craft -and courage before Troy; and Helen mixes for him the -cup of Nepenthe, which steeps memory in a mist and -banishes care and calls a smile to the lips. She does not -herself taste of the magic drink, however; she has no wish to -forget. Secure now in the peace of home and enfolded -by generous forgiveness, she will always remember, until -she comes to pass through Lethe on her way to the Elysian -fields. And there, when the time came, she was translated -<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>‘where falls not rain, or hail, or any snow.’ A shrine was -built to her, and Greek men and maidens worshipped her -as one of the immortal gods themselves.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>O’er Helen’s shrine the grass is growing green,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>In desolate Therapnae; none the less</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Her sweet face now unworshipped and unseen</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Abides the symbol of all loveliness,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of Beauty ever stainless in the stress</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of warring lusts and fears; and still divine,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Still ready with immortal peace to bless</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Them that with pure hearts worship at her shrine.</em><a href='#f1' class='c011'><sup>[1]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class='c012' /> - -<div class='footnote' id='f1'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r1'>1</a>. </span>From Mr Andrew Lang’s <cite>Helen of Troy</cite> (G. Bell and Sons -Ltd.).</p> -</div> - -<div class='footnote' id='f2'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r2'>2</a>. </span>From Messrs Lang, Leaf, and Myers’s translation of the -<cite>Iliad</cite> (Macmillan and Co. Ltd.).</p> -</div> - -<div class='footnote' id='f3'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r3'>3</a>. </span>From Professor J. W. Mackail’s translation of the <cite>Odyssey</cite> -(John Murray).</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span> - <h2 class='c005'><em>Homer: Andromache</em></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_4 c009'>Andromache was the young wife of Hector, -Priam’s warrior son and defender of Troy. -Over against the figure of Helen in the <cite>Iliad</cite> her -gentle integrity stands in mute reproach. It is -as though Homer, whose chivalry to Helen will not permit -him to censure her, yet feels the claim of a larger chivalry—to -womanhood itself. So he seems impelled to create -this type of gracious purity, vindicating wifely honour -and motherly tenderness; and proving at the same time -that if his race had a high ideal of beauty, it had also a -profound regard for domestic ties.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Helen and Andromache, therefore, stand side by side in -the action of the poem. Their destinies are linked: their -lives are passed within the same walls: they own the same -relationship to king Priam and to Hecuba the queen; and -they are united in suffering. But always they are as far apart -in spirit as conscious guilt on the one hand and indignant -rectitude on the other ever held two daughters of Eve. -Andromache, like all the men and women of heroic poetry, -was very human. And we have the feeling that she could -not rise to Hector’s generosity toward the Spartan woman -for whose sake Paris had brought the war on Ilios. Perhaps -the reason was that she had suffered more deeply on Helen’s -account. And if she had joined in those reproaches which -Helen wailed about in her threnos over Hector’s body, it -was from bitter cause.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Andromache had been happy, and a princess, in her girlhood -days, before Paris brought a Greek bride from Sparta. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>Her father was Eëtion, king of Thebes, in ‘wooded Plakos’; -and in those times she had a gentle mother and seven strong -brothers. But the Greeks came, and in the long years -when the Leaguer lay beneath Troy, their terrible hero -Achilles had ravaged the countries around, and had taken -the city of Thebes. He had slain Eëtion her father and -the seven fine youths who were her brothers. Her mother, -too, though ransomed from the Greeks for a great price, -had died of grief; and Andromache, utterly forlorn, had -found refuge in the halls of Priam. She found a mate there -too; and in the love of Hector, her father and mother -and brothers were all given back to her.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Homer makes the tender devotion of this noble pair stand -out in gracious contrast to the stormy passion of Paris -and Helen. Yet he does not tell us much about Andromache. -He does not describe her—indeed, he very rarely -draws a picture of his women—but we know that she is -beautiful. In some subtle way there is left on our mind -an impression of blended grace and dignity, of sweetness -and tenderness and fidelity; but we are not directly told -that she possesses these qualities. We do not even see her -till, in the Sixth Book of the <cite>Iliad</cite>, the time has come for -her to part from her husband.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Greeks were at the very gates of Troy, and the last -phase had come for the sacred city. Diomedes had driven -their god Ares from the field, bellowing with the pain of a -wound; and Hector, who saw the end was coming, hurried -into the palace to rouse his followers and beg the queen to -pray for the cause of Troy in the Temple of Athena. Then, -before returning to the fight, he snatched the opportunity -to see his wife and child once more. At first he could not -find them. Andromache was not in the palace, nor in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>the Temple of Athena where the matrons of the city were -propitiating the goddess. She had heard that the Trojans -were hard pressed, and in fear for her husband she had gone -down to the tower to watch the battle from the walls.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Hector hastened from his house back by the same way -down the well-builded streets. When he had passed through -the great city and was come to the Skaian gates, whereby -he was minded to issue upon the plain, there came his -dear-won wife running to meet him.... So she met -him now, and with her went the handmaid bearing in -her bosom the tender boy, the little child, Hector’s loved -son, like unto a beautiful star.... So now he smiled and -gazed at his boy silently, and Andromache stood by his side -weeping, and clasped her hand in his, and spake and called -upon his name. ‘Dear my lord, this thy hardihood will -undo thee, neither hast thou any pity for thine infant boy, -nor for me forlorn that soon shall be thy widow; for soon -will the Achaeans all set upon thee and slay thee. But it -were better for me to go down to the grave if I lose thee; -for never more will any comfort be mine, when once thou, -even thou, hast met thy fate, but only sorrow’.”<a id='r4' /><a href='#f4' class='c011'><sup>[4]</sup></a></p> - -<p class='c000'>So she weeps to him, forgetting the heroic, as heroes often -do in overwhelming human sorrow. Hector is human too; -and as she pours out all the pleas that touch him most nearly—her -love for him, his love for her, and their mutual love -for their child—he cannot utter the reply of the soldier -and defender of his people. Andromache thinks she sees -an instant of wavering in his eyes; she catches at it wildly, -and rushes on to tell of a place where he and his men may -screen themselves from the enemy. But that word has -lost her cause. Hector’s great refusal is brave and gentle: -“Surely ... I have very sore shame ... if like a coward I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>shrink away from battle. Moreover mine own soul forbiddeth -me.... Yea of a surety I know ... the day -shall come for holy Ilios to be laid low.... Yet doth -the anguish of the Trojans hereafter not so much trouble -me, neither Hekabe’s own, neither king Priam’s, neither -my brethren’s ... as doth thine anguish in the day when -some mail-clad Achaian shall ... rob thee of the light -of freedom.... But me in death may the heaped-up -earth be covering, ere I hear thy crying and thy carrying -into captivity.”<a href='#f4' class='c011'><sup>[4]</sup></a></p> - -<p class='c000'>Andromache can find no answer, and there is silence between -them as Hector turns to caress his boy. But the child -shrinks to his nurse in fear of the shining helmet and nodding -crest; and the parents laugh through their tears.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Then his dear father laughed aloud, and his lady mother; -forthwith glorious Hector took the helmet from his head, -and laid it, all gleaming, upon the earth; then kissed he -his dear son and dandled him in his arms, and spake in -prayer to Zeus and all the gods, ... ‘Vouchsafe ye that -this my son may likewise prove even as I, pre-eminent -amid the Trojans, and as valiant in might, and be a great -king of Ilios. May men say of him, “Far greater is he -than his father,” as he returneth from battle; ... and -may his mother’s heart be glad’.”<a href='#f4' class='c011'><sup>[4]</sup></a></p> - -<p class='c000'>In his warrior-prayer Andromache cannot join; and to -us who know the fate of Hector’s son, there is appalling irony -in this appeal to the gods. She takes her boy into her arms, -smiling tearfully.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And her husband had pity to see her, and caressed her -with his hand and spake and called upon her name: -‘Dear one, I pray thee be not of over-sorrowful heart; -no man against my fate shall hurl me to Hades.... But -<span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>go thou to thine house and see to thine own tasks ... -but for war shall men provide, and I in chief of all men -that dwell in Ilios.’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“So spake glorious Hector, and took up his horsehair-crested -helmet; and his dear wife departed to her home, -oft looking back, and letting fall big tears.”<a href='#f4' class='c011'><sup>[4]</sup></a></p> - -<p class='c000'>But the end had not quite come for Hector and his beloved -Troy. For a time the tide of battle rolled back against -the Greeks, and while Achilles fumed idly in his tent, -Hector pressed upon them until he had forced them back -to their ships. The immortals came into the field again; -and success swayed to one or the other side, as Zeus to the -Trojans or Hera to the Greeks lent aid. Then Hector -slew Patroclus, the dear friend of Achilles; and that event -drew the Greek hero forth at last, raging in grief and -anger. Furnished with new armour by his goddess-mother -Thetis, Achilles went out against the Trojans like a destroying -flame. He drove them into the city with terrible -slaughter; and then faced Hector alone outside the Skaian -gates, and slew him there.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Meanwhile Andromache had won a little hope again, from -the past few days of success to the Trojan arms. She knew -nothing of the duel, and her husband’s fate at the hands -of Achilles; but was sitting quietly within her hall, while -the maids prepared warm baths for his return.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Then she called to her goodly-haired maids through the -house to set a great tripod on the fire, that Hector might -have warm washing when he came home out of the battle—fond -heart, and was unaware how, far from all washings, -bright-eyed Athene had slain him by the hand of Achilles. -But she heard shrieks and groans from the battlements, -and her limbs reeled, and the shuttle fell from her hands -<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>to the earth. Then again among her goodly haired maids -she spake: ‘Come two of ye this way with me that I may -see what deeds are done ... terribly I dread lest noble -Achilles have cut off bold Hector from the city by himself -and chased him to the plain and ere this ended his perilous -pride that possessed him, for never would he tarry among -the throng of men but ran out before them far, yielding -place to no man in his hardihood.’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Thus saying she sped through the chamber like one mad, -with beating heart, and with her went her handmaidens. -But when she came to the battlements and the throng of -men, she stood still upon the wall and gazed, and beheld -him dragged before the city:—swift horses dragged him -recklessly toward the hollow ships of the Achaians. Then -dark night came on her eyes and shrouded her, and she -fell backward and gasped forth her spirit.”<a href='#f4' class='c011'><sup>[4]</sup></a></p> - -<p class='c000'>We must not dwell upon the grim vengeance which Achilles -took upon the dead body of Hector, for the life of his -friend; nor the wonderful funeral rites for Patroclus; -nor the pitiful story of old Priam’s visit to Achilles at dead -of night, to beg for the body of his great son:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Before the throne of great Achilles see</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The broken king kissing the deadly hands</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Whereby his house is left him desolate.</em><a href='#f4' class='c011'><sup>[4]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div id='ANDROMACHE' class='figcenter id003'> -<img src='images/i_039.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic001'> -<p>CAPTIVE ANDROMACHE<br /><br /><em>Lord Leighton</em><br /><br /><em>By permission of the Berlin Photographic Co. 133 New Bond St. W.</em></p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>But when the poor insulted body was at last recovered, all -the city went out to meet it and bring it in with lamentation. -Andromache led the women, wailing in her grief: -“Husband, thou art gone young from life, and leavest me -a widow in thy halls. And the child is yet but a little -one, child of ill-fated parents, thee and me; nor methinks -shall he grow up to manhood, for ere then shall this city -be utterly destroyed. For thou art verily perished who -didst watch over it, who guardest it and keptest safe its -noble wives and infant little ones. These soon shall be -voyaging in the hollow ships, yea and I too with them, -and thou, my child, shalt either go with me unto a place -where thou shalt toil at unseemly tasks, labouring before -the face of some harsh lord, or else some Achaian will take -thee by the arm and hurl thee from the battlement, a -grievous death.... And woe unspeakable and mourning -hast thou left to thy parents, Hector, but with me chiefliest -shall grievous pain abide. For neither didst thou stretch -thy hands to me from a bed in thy death, neither didst -speak to me some memorable word that I might have -thought on evermore as my tears fall night and -day.”<a href='#f4' class='c011'><sup>[4]</sup></a></p> - -<p class='c000'>Andromache’s foreboding was only too completely fulfilled, -for although Homer does not tell us of it, we know that when -the truce for Hector’s funeral was over, Troy fell into the -hands of the Greeks. The horrors of that day are related -over and over again by the poets—the ruthless massacre -of Priam and his sons, the capture of the women and -children and the burning of the city. Euripides tells us in -his <cite>Troades</cite> what befell Andromache. This drama, written -centuries after the <cite>Iliad</cite>, has been called by Professor Gilbert -Murray, “the first great expression of pity for mankind -in European literature.” The subject was, indeed, one -to evoke profoundest pity, and the poet, reflective and -humane, seems to select it purposely to reveal the dreadful -underside of war. He brings the figure of Hecuba upon -the stage, weighed down under innumerable woes: -Cassandra, too, in a dark prophetic frenzy, foretelling -her own doom and that of Agamemnon: Helen, confronted -<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>at last by Menelaus; and Andromache, borne -in the chariot of her captor, with the baby Astyanax in -her arms.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Leader of Chorus.</span></span> - <em>O most forlorn<br />Of women, whither go’st thou, borne<br />Mid Hector’s - bronzen arms, and piled<br />Spoils of the dead, and pageantry<br />Of them that hunted - Ilion down?</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Andromache.</span></span> - <em>Forth to the Greek I go,<br />Driven as a beast is driven.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Hecuba.</span></span> - <em>Woe! Woe!...</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Andromache.</span></span> - <em>Mother of him of old, whose mighty spear<br />Smote Greeks like chaff, see’st thou - what things are here?</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Hecuba.</span></span> - <em>I see God’s hand, that buildeth a great crown<br />For littleness, and hath cast the - mighty down....</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Andromache.</span></span> - <em>O my Hector! best beloved,<br />That, being mine, wast all in all to me,<br />My - prince, my wise one, O my majesty<br />Of valiance!...</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'> </span> - <em>Thou art dead,<br />And I war-flung to slavery and the - bread<br />Of shame in Hellas, over bitter seas.</em><a id='r5' /><a href='#f5' - class='c011'><sup>[5]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>But the crowning horror remains. As Andromache and -the queen are taking mournful leave of each other, a hurried -messenger arrives from the Greek leaders. His message -is almost too dreadful to utter; but he stammers it at last—the -victors have resolved that Andromache’s son must die. -They will spare no slip of Priam’s stock to be a future -menace; and Astyanax is to be cast down therefore from -the city towers.</p> - -<p class='c000'>To Andromache it is an appalling blow, worse than all -<span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>that she has yet suffered. She cannot realize it at first, and -answers the herald in broken, incredulous phrases. But -when the man, ruefully trying to soothe her meanwhile, at -last makes it clear to her that her child must die, all her -gentleness is suddenly swept away in fierce wrath against -her enemies.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>O, ye have found an anguish that outstrips</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>All tortures of the East, ye gentle Greeks!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Why will ye slay this innocent, that seeks</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>No wrong?</em>“<a href='#f5' class='c011'><sup>[5]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Her own wrongs, though deep and shameful, she could bear; -but the cruelty to her child is insupportable. All the -graciousness and dignity of her nature break down under -it; and carried beyond herself, she calls down wild curses -upon her conquerors, and upon Helen, the origin of all her -woes. Then, suddenly realizing the futility of her rage -and her powerlessness to save Astyanax, she yields him to -the Herald in a poignant outburst of grief:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Quick! take him: drag him: cast him from the wall,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>If cast ye will! Tear him, ye beasts, be swift!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>God hath undone me, and I cannot lift</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>One hand, one hand, to save my child from death!</em>“<a href='#f5' class='c011'><sup>[5]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>So Andromache was taken alone into captivity. Of all -that befell her there we do not know; but there are hints -and fragments which suggest that the gods must have -relented a little, at sight of her misery. For long afterward, -when the Trojan prince Æneas set out to found another -Troy in Latium, he anchored his fleet one day in the bay -of Chaonia. And there, as he wandered upon the shore, -he found Andromache. Her cruel captor was dead; and -she was married to Helenus, the brother of Hector. But -<span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>she had not forgotten her hero-husband, and when Æneas -and his companions came upon her first, she was paying -devotions at his tomb:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Within a grove Andromache that day,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Where Simois in fancy flowed again,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Her offerings chanced at Hector’s grave to pay,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>A turf-built cenotaph, with altars twain,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Source of her tears and sacred to the slain—</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And called his shade.</em><a id='r6' /><a href='#f6' class='c011'><sup>[6]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class='c012' /> - -<div class='footnote' id='f4'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r4'>4</a>. </span>From Messrs Lang, Leaf, and Myers’s translation of the -<cite>Iliad</cite> (Macmillan and Co. Ltd.). 1909 Edition.</p> -</div> - -<div class='footnote' id='f5'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r5'>5</a>. </span>From Professor Gilbert Murray’s translation of the <cite>Troades</cite> -(George Allen and Co. Ltd.).</p> -</div> - -<div class='footnote' id='f6'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r6'>6</a>. </span>From E. Fairfax Taylor’s translation of the <cite>Æneid</cite> (Everyman’s -Library).</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span> - <h2 class='c005'><em>Homer: Penelope</em></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_4 c009'>We come now to the <cite>Odyssey</cite>, the second -Homeric epic; and to its heroine, wise -Penelope.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Nominally, we have left the <cite>Iliad</cite> behind -by a space of several years. Troy had fallen, and the Greeks -were homeward bound, fewer in number and sadder at heart -than when the fleet had sailed ten years before. Some few of -them reached home in safety. But for the most part, the -return voyages were only accomplished with tremendous -hardship and peril; and many who had escaped death at Troy -found it at the hands of Poseidon, earth-shaking sea-god. Of -proud Agamemnon, and the fate that awaited him in his -palace at Mycenæ, we shall hear presently. We are concerned -now with the wanderings of Odysseus, and how he won home -at last to the faithful love of Penelope.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But after all, the connexion between the <cite>Iliad</cite> and the -<cite>Odyssey</cite> is only nominal. The links between them, although -they seem strong and real at first, do not in any sense unite -the two poems. It is true that there is the imaginary -relation of time; that the <cite>Odyssey</cite> relates the subsequent -adventures of one of the heroes who actually fought at -the siege of Troy; and, more important still, that it shows -him to possess upon the whole the same qualities which he -possessed in the <cite>Iliad</cite>. But when that is said, there remains -the fact of a contrast between the poems which almost -persuades us that in the <cite>Odyssey</cite> we are in a different world. -This contrast is best seen in the antithesis between the -two heroes of the poems; and indeed between the two -<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>great heroines too. In the <cite>Iliad</cite>, Achilles stands for physical -beauty and strength, young enthusiasm and ardent courage. -When Odysseus appears there, as he sometimes does, he is -overshone by the splendour of Achilles. Although he is the -brain of the enterprise, he is in quite a secondary place to -the physical magnificence of the younger hero. When we -come to the later poem, however, we find that intelligence -has risen to the higher plane. Odysseus is now the hero—not, -like Achilles, an ideal of bodily strength and beauty: -not a man of wrath, flaming over the battlefield in vengeance -for his friend: not merely a warrior, product of a warlike -age. Odysseus is by no means lacking in courage; and -he has not outgrown the need for war. But he has many -other qualities besides, and his fighting is usually prompted -by necessity.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is significant that the character of Achilles is developed -in conflict with the war-god, Ares; while Odysseus is -whelmed in a ‘sea of troubles,’ literally heaped upon -him by Poseidon. Struggling constantly against the rage -of the elements, Odysseus becomes alert and cautious, -patient and painstaking and resourceful: a great constructive -energy, as contrasted with the destroying fury of Achilles. -The poet’s epithet for Odysseus is ‘subtle’ as that for -Achilles had been ‘swift’; and the emphasis is always -laid upon his qualities of brain and nerve. He is not a -very imposing figure, and has little physical beauty. When -his friends would praise him, it is gifts of mind rather than -of body to which they refer. He is ‘the just one’ who -does no injury ‘as is the way of princes’; the kindly ruler, -who is ‘like a father’ to help his people; the faithful -husband who can flatter and cajole his goddess-gaoler, in -desperate anxiety to be home with his dear wife; the loyal -<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>comrade who will risk the enchantments of Circe rather -than forsake his men without an effort; the gracious master -whose servants ‘mourn and pine’ because of his long -absence. And all the way through the poem, in passages -which are too numerous to quote, there is a running tribute -to his wisdom. Zeus himself, with other gods and goddesses; -kings and queens; nymphs, naiads and enchantresses; -swineherds and domestic servants; soldiers and -sailors; strangers and homefolk; friends and enemies, all -add their word to the eulogium of his wit.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Now Penelope, who is the perfect mate for such a man as -this, is for that very reason contrasted with Helen as strongly -as her husband is contrasted with the hero of the <cite>Iliad</cite>. -It is not merely that her personality is totally unlike Helen’s, -although that is true. The contrast is rooted in something -deeper—in the whole conception of the poet, the manner -of life out of which the poem came, the theme of which it -treats. In the <cite>Iliad</cite> we are quite literally moving amongst -demi-gods. Helen, reputed daughter of Tyndareus, is -really the child of Zeus; and Achilles has the nereid Thetis -for his mother. Something of their divine origin clings -to them, making them awful and magnificent. In all -that they do and are they are greater than mere human -folk. They move majestically, and they are not to be -approached too nearly, or judged by the common standard, -or compared with the ordinary race of men. Troy itself, -to which their names cling, was a city built by gods.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But Odysseus and Penelope are frankly mortal; and in -that one fact they approach nearer to us by many degrees. -They are no longer colossal figures hovering, as it were, -about the base of Mt. Olympus, and driven this way and -that in the surge of Olympian quarrels. They are a man -<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>and woman, with their feet firmly planted upon the earth, -and their affections rooted there too. They claim no -kinship with the gods: they take no part in Olympian -warfare: they have no care for the issues which are called -great. Their story, reduced to its elements, is of the -simplest kind: the call of dear home ties upon the man, -the fidelity and prudence of the woman. And in this -‘touch of common things,’ Penelope becomes a much -more real figure than Helen.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Of course that is not to say that Penelope is ‘real’ in -the technical sense of the word. She is in fact almost as -much a creature of romance as Helen is. But she appears -before us as a living woman with human hopes and joys -and sorrows; with human virtues too, and certain very -human weaknesses. We can never regard the heroine of -the <cite>Iliad</cite> just in this way. If we could, and if we dared -to lift the veil which the poet always interposes between -us and the character of Helen, it would stand revealed -slight and trembling in its amiability: fatally soft, with -no vein of essential strength. Now it is that essential -strength which characterizes Penelope. The wooers -realized it; and Antinous made it the chief point of his -defence:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in8'><em>Athena has bestowed on her</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Wisdom of mind and excellence of skill</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>In beautiful devices manifold</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Beyond all others, such as is not told</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Even of those famous in the former time,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Achaean women lovely-tressed of old,</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Tyro, Alcmena, and Mycene crowned—</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Even among these the equal was not found</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>In wise devices of Penelope.</em><a id='r7' /><a href='#f7' class='c011'><sup>[7]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>There is a significant silence about Penelope’s beauty; and -she has not eternal youth as Helen has. But when we -have seen her eyes light upon her boy Telemachus, and -the radiance of her face as the strange old beggarman -told her about her husband, we shall waive the question of -æsthetics. We shall be prepared to maintain Penelope’s -beauty against all-comers; and we shall not be much -concerned that the poet rather avoids the subject. For -he would not dream of a soul which did not know that -sweetness and dignity and a gentle heart, grief endured -patiently and love unswerving, would make for themselves -a worthy habitation. Beside Helen’s exquisite fairness, -Penelope would seem a little faded; and her sweet gravity -would be almost a reproach. She cannot compare for -one moment with Calypso, as Odysseus had to confess -when the goddess blamed him for his homesickness:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Goddess and mistress, be not wroth with me</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Herein: for very well myself I know</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>That, set beside you, wise Penelope</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Were far less stately and less fair to view,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Being but mortal woman, nor like you</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Ageless and deathless: but even so,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I long and yearn to see my home anew.</em>“<a href='#f7' class='c011'><sup>[7]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The keynote of the <cite>Odyssey</cite> is struck here; and here too -we may find a hint of all that Penelope means. The -thought of home is to dominate the poem, as something -so dear and sacred that innumerable toils are suffered and -infinite perils undergone to win back to it. And this -shining ideal of home is to be incarnate in Penelope. She -is to represent in her own person all that sweetens and -comforts life: all the domestic virtues which establish and -perpetuate it. Thus, beside Helen as the ideal of beauty—of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>physical perfection—Penelope stands as the ideal of -mental and moral worth.</p> - -<hr class='c010' /> - -<p class='c000'>Telemachus, whom Odysseus had left at home as a baby -twenty years before, had been sent by Athena to seek his -father. The goddess had appeared to him as he sat in -his father’s hall in Ithaca, lowering upon those unbidden -guests who were his mother’s suitors. She had asked what -the unseemly revel might mean; and he had told of the -long absence of his father.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Ah but the spirits of storm to a death inglorious swept him,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Vanished, unseen and unheard of; and nothing but mourning and anguish</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Me he bequeathed! Nor now do I sorrow and make lamentation</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Only for him; for the gods send other and grievous afflictions.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>All of the chief of the men who as princes rule in the islands....</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>All come wooing my mother and wasting the wealth of the homestead.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>She dares neither reject their hateful proposals of marriage,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Nor can she end it; and thus do the men, consuming, devouring,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Ruin my home....</em>”<a id='r8' /><a href='#f8' class='c011'><sup>[8]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The goddess counselled immediate action—to go and seek -Odysseus; and while the minstrel sang to the carousing -suitors, Telemachus inwardly resolved that he would set -sail as soon as might be for Pylos and Sparta, whither Athena -directed him for tidings of his father. But he knew that he -must act quietly; and above all, that his purpose must be -<span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>kept a secret from his mother. She would certainly prevent -his going, did she know, fearing to lose son as well as -husband.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Meantime, as he pondered the matter, Penelope was listening -from her lofty bower to the minstrel’s song in the hall -below. He sang of the return of the heroes from Troy; -and the words reawakened in her the old pain of longing -for her husband. At last she could not bear to hear -it any longer:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Straightway leaving her room by the high-built stair she descended;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Neither alone did she go; two maidens followed behind her.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>So when at last she had come to the suitors, that fairest of women</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Stood by the post of the door of the massively builded apartment,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Holding in front of her cheeks soft folds of her glistering head-dress.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>There as she stood, with a trusty attendant on this and on that side,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Suddenly bursting in tears to the godlike bard she addressed her:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>“Phemius, ...</em></div> - <div class='line in8'><em>... desist, I beseech, from the strain thou art singing,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Pitiful story, that ever the heart in the depths of my bosom Woundeth....”</em><a href='#f8' class='c011'><sup>[8]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>She is a touching figure, as she ventures out among the -revellers and begs the old man to change the theme of -his lay. But Telemachus was not in the mood to see the -pathos of the scene. The charge that Athena had laid -on him had suddenly given him his manhood; and in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>the new sense of responsibility, he spoke a little harshly -to his mother, bidding her go back to her loom and -housewifery.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Full of amazement she turned her to go to the women’s apartment,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Hiding the masterful words of her son deep down in her bosom.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>So to her upper apartment ascending with maiden attendants</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Here she lamented Odysseus her well-loved husband, till gently</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Slumber was poured on her lids by the grey-eyed goddess Athene.</em><a href='#f8' class='c011'><sup>[8]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>While his mother slept, Telemachus lay awake in his own -inner room revolving plans whereby to carry out the -command of Athena. He determined first to confront the -suitors publicly, before a formal assembly of the Ithacans, -and charge them with their insolence and riotous greed. -So, with the first light of morning, he summoned the -people to a meeting in the market-place, and called upon -the wooers to cease their persecution of his mother and -quit his house. Antinous, answering haughtily for them -all, invented a coward’s excuses for their conduct. Penelope -was to blame, he said, for she would not decide between -them; but constantly put them off with various cunning -devices. With one pretext alone—that of weaving a -shroud for Icarius—she had kept them in suspense for -many months.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span><em>Thus then all of the day at the spacious loom she was weaving;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>During the night she unravelled the web with the torches beside her.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Three long years with her secret device she befooled the Achaeans;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Till, when the fourth year came, and as season was followed by season,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Then at the last (since one of her women, who knew it, had told us),</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>While at the loom her magnificent web she unravelled, we caught her.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Thus was she forced, though sorely unwilling, to finish her labour.</em><a href='#f8' class='c011'><sup>[8]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Therefore, declared Antinous, because Penelope had -deceived them in this manner, they would not depart -until she had chosen a husband from among them. Telemachus -might spare his protests; indeed, he would be -better advised to coerce his mother, since they were determined -to remain in his house and devour his substance, -until Penelope should yield. But Telemachus was a child -no longer, and could not be threatened with impunity. -And to their base suggestion that he should favour them -against his mother, he gave a spirited reply. Nothing -should induce him to give Penelope in marriage against -her will:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Such word I will not utter. But for you,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>If you take shame at all this wrong you do,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Quit these my halls....</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>But if you deem it worthier still to sit,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>As now, devouring one man’s livelihood</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And rendering no recompense for it,</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Waste on: but to the deathless gods will I</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Make my appeal, if haply Zeus on high</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Repayment of your deeds exact from you.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>So in this house you unavenged shall die.</em>“<a href='#f7' class='c011'><sup>[7]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>The assembly broke up; and Telemachus hastily fitted -out a ship and sailed to seek Odysseus, all unknown to -Penelope. The suitors continued their carousals day after -day, rioting and making merry, in feigned contempt of -Telemachus and his quest. But when after a time he did -not return, they grew uneasy. They had jeered at his -threats of vengeance, deeming him an untried boy; but -who knew what might happen now, since he had sailed with -a crew of the stoutest fellows in the island? Might he -not return with help and drive them out? Antinous took -counsel with his friends, and determined on a murderous -plan. They would man a ship, sail after Telemachus, and -lie in wait for his return, between the islands of Ithaca -and Samé; and that should be the last cruise that Telemachus -should make.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Meanwhile Penelope, busy with her household duties, -believed her son to be away with the flocks. She stayed -within the women’s rooms; and except for the clamour -of the wooers, or the occasional song of the minstrel, nothing -came to her ears. But now Medon the herald heard of the -plot which was afoot against his young master, and came to -warn her of it. She greeted him with a bitter question. -Had he come to order her maids to spread the banquet -for the suitors? Would that they might never feast -again! Had they not shame to deal so unjustly with her -absent husband—he who had always dealt justly with -them, who had never in word or deed done injury to any? -But Medon had a harder thing yet to say; and as gently -as might be, he told her of the going of Telemachus and -of the suitors’ plot to slay him.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span><em>Thus did he speak, and with knees and with heart all quaking she stood there.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Speechless long she remained, struck mute, while gathering teardrops</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Flooded her eyes, and the flow of her clear-voiced utterance failed,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Till at the last she recovered her speech and addressed him in answer:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>“Wherefore, herald, I pray, is my son departed? He nowise</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Needed to mount on a ship—on a swift-paced vessel that sailors</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Ride as a horse and traverse the watery waste of the ocean.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Wills he that even his name no longer remain in remembrance?”</em><a href='#f8' class='c011'><sup>[8]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Penelope is overwhelmed with grief, and Medon’s explanation -of her son’s errand does not soothe her. She believes -that he is lost to her for ever, like his father; and when -the herald has left her, she throws herself down upon the -floor of her room, wailing:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in8'>“<em>... sorrow hath Zeus the Olympian sent me</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Passing the sorrows of all the friends and the mates of my childhood.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Erstwhile lost I a husband—my lord with the heart of a lion....</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Now is my dearly belovèd, my son, swept hence by the storm-blasts,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Vanished from hearing and home....</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Had I but known he was making him ready to fare on a journey,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Verily either at home he had stay’d, though bent on departure,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Else he had left me behind him dead in the halls of his homestead.</em>“<a href='#f8' class='c011'><sup>[8]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>She casts about in her mind as to how she may save her -son; and it seems to her best to send a trusty messenger -<span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>to the father of Odysseus, for help and counsel. But the -old nurse Euryclea gives good advice. She confesses that -she had known of the departure of Telemachus; but he -had sworn her with a great oath not to reveal it. It is of -no use to mourn about it; and since they can do nothing -to bring him back, the better way is to go and supplicate -their guardian goddess, Athena, the Maid of Zeus, for his -safety. For her part, she believes that Telemachus will -not be forsaken in his need. Penelope wisely takes the -advice of the old nurse. She bathes, puts on clean raiment, -and taking in her hand an offering of barley-flour, she ascends -to her own chamber and makes supplication to Athena:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in8'>“<em>Hearken to my prayer this hour,</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Thou who hast thunder-bearing Zeus for Sire,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Maiden whose might no labour can out-tire!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>If ever subtle-souled Odysseus here</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Within these halls consumed upon the fire</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Fat thigh-pieces of ox or sheep to thee,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Remember it this day for good to me,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And save my son, and from us thrust away</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The suitors in their evil surquedry.</em>”</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Calling aloud so spake she, and her call</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The goddess heard.</em><a href='#f7' class='c011'><sup>[7]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div id='PENELOPE' class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/i_057.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic001'> -<p>PENELOPE<br /><br /><em>Patten Wilson</em></p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>Even while Penelope prayed, Athena was busy on her -behalf; and was bringing home to her both husband and -son. Odysseus she had convoyed safely to Ithaca, and was -now leading him in disguise to the swineherd’s cottage. And -to Telemachus she had shown a way to escape the murderous -suitors, and was bringing him swiftly to the father -whom he had never seen. Of their meeting, and of their -cunning plan for vengeance on the suitors, it would take -too long to tell. But in the morning, Penelope was gladdened -by the return of her son; and a little later, a poor -old beggar (no other than Odysseus himself) came among -the suitors as they sat in the hall. They glowered upon him -angrily, and proud Antinous set the vagabond Irus to fight -him, for their sport. But the old beggar had unexpected -strength, and Irus was defeated. Whereon the suitors -began to bait Odysseus with jeers and taunts; and one -hurled a stool at him. At this impious deed, the -guests were horrified; and Penelope, hearing of it where -she sat among her women, longed to make amends -to the old man for the cruel act. She descended into -the great hall, and spoke reprovingly to Telemachus for -allowing one who had sought the shelter of their home to -be treated so basely.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>What thing is this that hath befallen us</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Within our halls that once were prosperous,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>That you have suffered one who is your guest</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To be despitefully entreated thus?</em>“<a href='#f7' class='c011'><sup>[7]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>But Telemachus hugged his secret knowledge of the -beggar’s identity, and kept silence, while Penelope returned -to her bower. The hall was cleared at last, and then he and -his father laid their plans for the slaying of the suitors on the -following day. The noisy crew had all gone to rest; and -when Odysseus and his son had agreed upon a plan of -action, Telemachus followed them, leaving his father alone -in the great hall. It was a moment for which Penelope -had been waiting; and she came down from her room again, -to question the beggar of his wanderings. There was no -light in the hall but that of the fire; and she ordered a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>cushioned chair to be brought near, so that the old man -might sit while she talked with him.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Firstly of all, O stranger, I wish thee to answer a question:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Whence and what mortal thou beest? Tell too of thy city and parents.</em>“<a href='#f8' class='c011'><sup>[8]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Cunning Odysseus evaded her question. She might ask -him anything but that, he said; for it gave him too much -sorrow to think of his country and his race. Penelope was -only too willing to be turned aside, burning as she was to -ask for news of Odysseus. So she told the old man of her -husband, and of his sailing for Troy, and of how she was -pining for his return.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>O that he came once more, and had care of my life as aforetime!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>So were fairer my fame, and my lot more happy; for alway</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Now I am sad—such woes hath a deity sent to assail me....</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Wherefore little I care for my guests, or if beggars entreat me,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Little for heralds I care, who work for the weal of the people;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Wasted away is my heart as I yearn for Odysseus....</em>“<a href='#f8' class='c011'><sup>[8]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>She told him about the wooers, and the device of the -shroud, which gained her three years’ respite. But a -treacherous servant had betrayed her, and she had been -compelled to finish her task.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Now can I neither escape from a marriage, nor yet am I able</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Further device to discover; and urgently also my parents</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Bid me to marry; and vexed is my son as they waste his possessions.</em>“<a href='#f8' class='c011'><sup>[8]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>But having related so much of her own story, she asked -again for the old man’s name and race; and above all, -would not he say whether he had seen or heard aught of -her husband? Odysseus needed all his subtlety now, as he -invented a tale of Crete and the great city of Cnossos, and -Minos the king who was his ancestor; and how on one -occasion her husband had indeed taken shelter with him -there.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Thus in the likeness of truth he related a tissue of falsehood.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Meantime, weeping she listened, her cheeks all flooded with teardrops,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Like as the snow when it melteth away from the heights of the mountains,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Thawed by the breath of the Eurus—the snow that the Zephyr hath sprinkled.</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in34'><em>... And Odysseus,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Touched to the heart by the grief of his wife, felt tender compassion;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Yet did his eyes keep fixed, as of horn they had been or of iron,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Motionless under the lids. Tears came, but he skilfully hid them.</em><a href='#f8' class='c011'><sup>[8]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>There was one thing more which Odysseus must do before -he could reveal himself; and meantime he could only -comfort Penelope by assuring her that her husband still lived -and was even now on his way home to her. She shook her -head sadly: that was too good to believe: the kind old -man was only trying to comfort her. But it was time for -him to go to bed; and because he disliked the giddy -young serving-maids, Penelope called up the old nurse -Euryclea, and bade her wash the beggar’s feet with as much -<span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>care as if he were her master returned at last. That he -was indeed her master the nurse divined the instant that -her fingers touched an old scar upon his foot. But Odysseus -hastily whispered her to say nothing of what she had discovered; -and soon the palace was asleep, with the old beggar -stretched upon sheepskins in the forecourt.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At dawn next morning Odysseus awoke, and prayed to -Zeus to help him in the great deed that he was to do that -day. Soon the suitors were astir, and the usual preparations -were begun for the banquet. Penelope herself came -down from her room, to watch what would happen. For, -as she had told the beggar the night before, she could not -withhold her decision any longer. This day she must -choose between the suitors. And because they were all -alike hateful to her she would decide the question by a -test: she would consent to take for her husband that man -who could shoot with Odysseus’ bow.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>I now the suitors to that feat will call</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of axes, that he used to set in hall</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Twelve in a row, like ship-stays, and far back</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Standing would shoot an arrow through them all.</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Now therefore to the suitors I will shew</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>This feat; and whoso in his hands the bow</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Shall bend most easily, and down the line</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of the twelve axes make the arrow go,</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Him will I follow, putting far from me</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>This house of my espousals, fair to see</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And full of substance, that I think in dreams</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I shall remember through the days to be.</em>“<a href='#f7' class='c011'><sup>[7]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>She went up into the high Treasure-chamber, and sorrowfully -took down the great bow that a friend in Sparta had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>given to Odysseus long ago. She carried it forth among -the suitors; and Telemachus, who was eager for the contest -which he knew would end for them in a shameful death, -swiftly set up the twelve axes in a row, through which they -were to shoot. Odysseus leaned silently against the door-post, -still in his beggar’s disguise; whilst one after another -of the suitors tried to bend the bow. But one after another -miserably failed to bend it, although a great fire was lit -and a cake of lard was brought to make the bow supple. At -last, in rage and despair, they had to abandon the attempt; -and then Odysseus humbly asked if he might be allowed -to try. This was a pre-arranged signal between father -and son; and in the instant outcry that arose at the old -man’s presumption, Penelope and her maids were led away. -Then Odysseus, with his son and two faithful serving-men -who were in the secret, made a bold attack upon the suitors. -They were greatly outnumbered, but their plans had been -laid warily, and Athena was on their side. Through a -grim struggle they prevailed at last, and did not cease until -vengeance was complete and every evil suitor had been slain. -But Penelope, although she heard the horrible din in the -hall below, had no idea of its cause. It was probably, she -thought, another of the frequent brawls between these -tumultuous wooers. She was still completely ignorant of -Odysseus’s return; and when the old nurse came running -to her with the joyful news, she believed her to be -mad. She had looked so long and so despairingly for -this event that now it had come she was utterly incredulous. -Even when she heard all the ghastly story of the -slaying of the suitors, and came into the hall where her -husband stood awaiting her, she could not realize that it -was he.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span><em>Then from her room she descended, and deeply she pondered in spirit</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Whether to hold her aloof from her lord and to test him with questions</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Or to approach and embrace him and kiss him on hands and on forehead.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>So, when at length she had entered the hall and had stept from the door-stone,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Fronting Odysseus she seated herself, in the light of a brazier,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Close to the opposite wall; and with eyes cast down he was sitting</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Nigh to a pillar that rose to the roof; and he waited expectant,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Hoping his beautiful wife would speak when she saw him before her.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Long while silent she sat, with her spirit amazed and bewildered.</em><a href='#f8' class='c011'><sup>[8]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Telemachus could not comprehend the reason for his -mother’s silence, and broke into impulsive chiding. He -could not see that the very steadfastness of her nature -would not allow her to be lightly convinced.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Then answer made Penelope the wise:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>“My child, the soul is dizzy with surprise</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Within me; no word can I speak to him,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Nor question him nor look him in the eyes.</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>“But if he comes indeed, and this is he,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>We shall know one another certainly.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>For we have tokens that from all men else</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Are hidden, and none know but only we.”</em><a href='#f7' class='c011'><sup>[7]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Truly, it is Greek meeting Greek, in this encounter -between the wit of Penelope and that of the man she -dare not hope is really her husband. Odysseus grows -<span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>angry at last, and that gives the victory to his wife. For -when he orders that a bed shall be made for him apart, -she says cunningly to the maid:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Now, Eurycleia, lay the goodly bed</em></div> - <div class='line in2'><em>Without the chamber firmly-stablished</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>That his own hands made: take it out from thence,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>You and the women, and upon it spread</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>The broidered blankets, that he soft may lie,</em></div> - <div class='line in2'><em>And rugs and fleeces.</em>“<a href='#f7' class='c011'><sup>[7]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Now Odysseus had built the bed himself, literally round the -trunk of a standing tree; and by this token she is trying -him. In his answer she perceives that he truly is her -husband, for none but he could know how wonderfully -their bed was built.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Verily, wife, this word thou hast spoken is grievously cruel.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Who hath removed it—the bed that I built? ‘Twere difficult truly</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>E’en for a man right skilful, unless some deity helped him.</em></div> - <div class='line in34'><em>... Great is the secret</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Touching that fine-wrought bed—for I made it myself and in private.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Once was a long-leaved olive that stood inside the enclosure,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Thriving and grown to the full; and its stem was as thick as a pillar.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Round it I built me a chamber and laboured until it was finished.</em>“<a href='#f8' class='c011'><sup>[8]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Odysseus is indignant at the suggestion that his wonderful -handiwork has been destroyed; but Penelope does not -mind about his anger, for she is convinced at last that he -is indeed her husband.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span><em>Then as he spake were loosened her knees and the heart in her bosom,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Since to herself she confessed that the token was sure that he gave her.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Bursting in tears, straightway to Odysseus she ran and embraced him,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Casting her arms on his neck and kissing his head and exclaiming:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>“Gaze not upon me in anger, Odysseus! In all thou hast shown thee</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Wisest of men—and thou knowst that the gods have sent us affliction,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Jealous to see us abiding in happiness one with the other....</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Ever and ever again hath my heart in the depths of my bosom</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Shuddered with fear lest any with tales might haply deceive me....</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Now ... I believe! for thou giv’st me a token unerring—the secret</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Touching the bed....</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Yea, I believe! thou hast conquered my heart, however unloving!”</em><a href='#f8' class='c011'><sup>[8]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Odysseus’s anger quickly melts as he clasps his sweet wife -in his arms; and so we may leave Penelope in her happiness. -Homer has one word more to say about her, however. -It occurs, with apparent naïveté, almost like a -curious little afterthought, in the last book of the poem. -But there is really exquisite art in it. The souls of the -suitors have gone wailing on their way to the World of -the Dead; and there they meet the great Greek heroes -who died at Troy. There too, they meet the haughty -spirit of King Agamemnon, murdered by his wife on his -return to Mycenæ. To him the suitors tell their tale of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>the faithful wife of Odysseus, and their ignominious end. -And then from Agamemnon’s lips, bitterly contrasting his -wife with Penelope, falls what is perhaps the noblest and -most impressive tribute to her:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in6'>“<em>O fortunate Laertes’ son,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Odysseus many-counselled, who a wife</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>So virtuous and so excellent have won!</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>How rightly minded from of old was she,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Icarius’ child, unblamed Penelope!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>How well remembered she her wedded lord</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Odysseus! Therefore undecayed shall be</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Her fame for worth, among mankind so long</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Shall the immortals make a lovely song</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of chaste Penelope.</em>“<a href='#f7' class='c011'><sup>[7]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class='c012' /> - -<div class='footnote' id='f7'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r7'>7</a>. </span>From Professor J. W. Mackail’s translation of the <cite>Odyssey</cite> -(John Murray).</p> -</div> - -<div class='footnote' id='f8'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r8'>8</a>. </span>From Mr H. B. Cotterill’s translation of the <cite>Odyssey</cite> -(Harrap & Co.).</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span> - <h2 class='c005'><em>Homer: Circe</em></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_4 c009'>Penelope is not the only woman in the <cite>Odyssey</cite>, -although she is far the most prominent. Round -her are grouped three other woman-figures—Calypso, -Circe, and Nausicaa; and although -two of them are goddesses rather than women, they seem -none the less deliberately chosen, with the sweet youthfulness -of Nausicaa, to enhance the dignity of Penelope.</p> - -<p class='c000'>They come into the story as incidents in the adventures -of Odysseus, as he is driven from point to point on his -weary voyage homeward. Calypso and Circe, dwelling -each in a lonely island of the sea, lure him and hold him -from Penelope against his will. But it is of no avail to -change his purpose. They have many charms, and they -can sing sweetly to ease the heart from pain. They live -a dainty and a joyous life, which he may share if he will; -and which he does share for a time. They are more beautiful -than Penelope; they have strange lore, and a knowledge -of enchantments; they have, too, eternal youth -and kinship with the immortals. But when all is said, -they cannot compare with the dear human soul who is -waiting for Odysseus in Ithaca; and this contrast the poet -makes us clearly see, in the way in which Odysseus always -turns with longing to the thought of Penelope.</p> - -<p class='c000'>So it is, too, with Nausicaa. This fresh young daughter -of King Alcinous, just a fair mortal girl, might be Penelope’s -very self, when twenty years before Odysseus had taken -away Icarius’s child to be his wife. One would think that -there must be something quite irresistible about her to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>the toil worn man just escaped from death. She is so -brave and helpful; and so prudent too, as she tells him a -little wistfully that he must not enter the city in her -company. Yet, though we feel that Odysseus cannot but -admire this spirited young creature, she does but serve to -remind him of one in whom similar beauty and wisdom -have grown to maturity.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Thus we have another comparison from which Penelope -gains; and thus all three of these other women of the -<cite>Odyssey</cite> serve to throw the heroine into stronger relief. -The poet accomplishes this very cunningly. He does not -bring them into direct contact with Penelope: they are -never, so to speak, on the stage together. That would be -too severe a contrast—one from which Penelope would -suffer, as well as they. But at distant times and places, -each is brought separately into the circle of Penelope’s life, -by rivalry for the love of her husband. So they stand in -the poem, not only as a graceful setting to the figure of the -heroine; but they occupy in relation to Odysseus the -same position which the suitors occupy in relation to -Penelope. There is a perfect balance of the poem here, -and one can only marvel at the art which built it so. For -the suitors serve on the one hand to show Penelope’s -fidelity; and on the other hand, by their arrogance and -brutality, they make a complete foil to the just and subtle -Odysseus. Penelope cannot cope with them; she knows -them too well to dare the effect of a downright refusal; -and she sets her wits to work to keep them at bay, while -she longs and prays for her husband’s return. In conflict -with them, her loyalty shines; and there are developed all -her many merits as queen and housewife and mother. -But in the conflict we get at the same time, through their -<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>sensuality and impiousness, a sense of the absolute contrast -with Odysseus.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The three minor women of the <cite>Odyssey</cite> serve a similar -double purpose. They stand to the hero as the suitors -stand to Penelope. If Odysseus’s loyalty to his wife does -not come perfectly scathless through the ordeal—if we -cannot hold him entirely blameless for the year spent with -Circe—the test does nevertheless reveal his essential constancy. -That is indeed the poet’s purpose; as well as to -give a bright and graceful touch to an exciting story of -adventure. But he had also another purpose, which we -have already seen—to make of these rivals of Penelope a -charming setting, in which she should shine with added -lustre.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We hear all about Circe when Odysseus is telling the story -of his adventures to King Alcinous. He relates how he had -sailed a second time from Aeolia, sadly and wearily, because -of the folly of his men. For they had been well within -sight of their beloved Ithaca, and Odysseus, worn out with -his long vigil at the main-sheet, had dropped asleep. It was -an evil opportunity for the curious crew, who were burning -to know what was contained in the great skin sack that -their commander had stored below so carefully. Within -a trice the Bag of the Winds was cut, letting loose on them -havoc and destruction.</p> - -<p class='c000'>They fared back to King Aeolus, and humbly begged his help -once more. But he would not a second time labour to imprison -the winds for men on whom the gods had obviously -laid a curse of foolishness; and they had to sail away unfriended. -For six days they rowed hard against adverse -weather; and on the seventh their evil fortune lured them -to the land of the Laestrygonians. Not one of the ships that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>entered the harbour ever came out again. Only Odysseus -and his own men, who lay outside awaiting them, were -saved from the hands of that cruel race.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Thence we sailed onward, joyful to have fled</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>With life, but for our fellows perished</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Grieving at heart: then came we to the isle</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Aeaea, where abode a goddess dread,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Circe, of mortal speech and tresses fair.</em><a id='r9' /><a href='#f9' class='c011'><sup>[9]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Such was the coming of Odysseus to the land of Circe; -and of all the strange and terrible things that had yet -befallen him, the strangest and most terrible he was to -receive at her hands. At first all went well. The ship -ran smoothly into a fair haven: they landed in safety, -and for two days and nights they rested on the shore, -Odysseus himself shooting them venison for their food. -In all this time no human creature had been seen; but -Odysseus in his explorations had seen one sign of habitation—a -curl of smoke rising from an oaken coppice. That -gave at least some hope of succour; but when he called -his men to search the wood with him, he found that their -courage had been completely broken. Their sufferings -from the savage Cyclops and the Laestrygonians had taught -them to fear the unknown rather than to hope from it; -and none would volunteer for the expedition. So a council -was called, lots were cast, and those on whom the lots -fell went off most unwillingly, led by Eurylochus.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The island lay low upon the sea, with only one hill-peak; -and when they climbed the hill the circling waters could be -seen stretching away to the horizon’s edge, without another -glimpse of land. It would seem that they were utterly -cut off: that there was no possible succour anywhere but -in the mysterious valley below them; and the knowledge -<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>spurred them to seek out the dweller in the wood, and so -perhaps find help and counsel.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In a wide and shallow valley, where the oaks had been -cleared away and the sun streamed hotly upon a southern -slope, they came upon the house of Circe, daughter of the -sun. No human figure could be seen:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in32'><em>But beasts alone,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Hill-wolves and lions, over whom the witch</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>With evil drugs had her enchantment thrown.</em><a href='#f9' class='c011'><sup>[9]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Even these creatures made no sound to break the silence -that was like a menace, while the sailors stopped awe-struck -at the sight. The great house, with its many halls and -shining marble pillars, fascinated their sight; and the -strange beasts which leapt and fawned around them seemed -to invite them to enter. But while they stood in doubt, -dreading to advance and yet withheld from flight by some -impalpable, resistless power, the sound of a sweet voice -rose upon the air. Softly at first it floated out to them, -in trembling notes; and they stole forward, drawn by the -exquisite melody, until they stood upon the very threshold -of Circe’s house.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>And now upon the fair-tressed Goddess’ floor</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>They stood, and from the porches through the door</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Heard Circe singing sweetly, as within</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>She wrought, the deathless high-built loom before.</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in6'><em>... They called aloud and cried.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Then issuing forth she straight threw open wide</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The shining doors and called them; and they all</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Went in their folly trooping at her side.</em><a href='#f9' class='c011'><sup>[9]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Circe, with a lurking smile of malice on her lips, came -forward to welcome them. She was very lovely, with the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>youthful, changeless beauty of the immortals; but though -Homer does not tell us so, we know that there was sensuality -in the curving fullness of her mouth and a cruel -gleam in the eyes over which the white lids drooped. With -sweet words and fluttering movements of her soft hands, -she brought them in and bade them sit; and busied herself, -with swift and stealthy eagerness, to mix and pour a luscious -drink of Pramnian wine and honey. But before she gave -the cup into their hands, she furtively dropped into it -one of her secret baneful drugs; and as they greedily -drank, their human shape was instantly transformed to -that of swine.</p> - -<p class='c000'>One of the crew, however, had not entered; and when -his comrades did not return, he ran back to the ship to -tell of what had happened. Odysseus, suspecting some -evil, slung on his sword, seized his bow, and sped away -to Circe’s house. But suddenly in his path stood the god -Hermes, Messenger of Zeus, in the likeness of a handsome -youth. The god held up an arresting hand.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in26'>“<em>Ah, whither do you go</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Across the wolds, O man unfortunate,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Alone amid a land you do not know?</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Your fellows here in Circe’s palace pine,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Close-barred and prisoned in the shape of swine;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And come you hither to release them? Nay,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Yourself you shall not save, as I divine.</em>“<a href='#f9' class='c011'><sup>[9]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Then Hermes foretold all that should befall Odysseus in -Circe’s house, thinking to deter him. But when he would -persist in the attempt to save his men, the god gave Odysseus -a plant that should be an antidote to Circe’s poison.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span><em>Thereafter to far-off Olympus he</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Passed from the island set with many a tree,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>But I to Circe’s house; and as I went</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Many a thing my heart revolved in me.</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Then by the fair-tressed Goddess’ portals nigh</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I stood and called her, and she heard my cry,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And issuing forth at once flung open wide</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The glittering doors and called me in: and I</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Followed as one who goes his doom to meet:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Forthwith she led me in, and on a seat</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Fair, carven, silver-studded, set me down</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And laid a footstool underneath my feet.</em><a href='#f9' class='c011'><sup>[9]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Below her courtesy an evil intent was lurking, as Odysseus -knew too well; and presently she served to him the same -poisoned drink with which she had bewitched his men. -But the plant of moly that Hermes had given him made -him proof against her drugs. The wine failed of its effect, -and Circe, angrily taking her wand, smote Odysseus with -it, crying: “Begone now to the sty and couch among -your band.”</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>So said she: but the sharp sword from my thigh</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I drew, and leapt at Circe suddenly</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>As purposing to slay her; and she shrieked</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Aloud, and under it ran in anigh,</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>And caught my knees, and winged words anew</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>She uttered: “Who and whence of men are you?</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Where is the city of your ancestry?</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I marvel greatly how this cup I brew</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>“You drink, and yet its sorcery have withstood:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>For unbewitched has none of mortal brood</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Drunk of it yet or let it pass his lips;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>But your breast holds against bewitchment good.</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>“Wandering Odysseus truly you must be,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Who in his swift black ship across the sea</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Ever the golden-wanded Shining One</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Said should from Troy returning visit me.”</em><a href='#f9' class='c011'><sup>[9]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div id='CIRCE' class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/i_075.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic001'> -<p>CIRCE<br /><br /><em>Patten Wilson</em></p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>Her mischievous purpose faded on the instant, and she -became full of fawning admiration and wonder. Her -malice was changed; but something even more dangerous -took its place. She began with sweet words to smooth -away Odysseus’s anger, fondling him and begging him to -remain with her and be her husband. But Odysseus -remembered the warning of the god, and at first he would -not yield. He was sullen and suspicious, and would not -answer her gently until she had sworn to release his men.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in26'><em>Thereat immediately</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Out through the palace, rod in hand, went she,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And opened the sty-doors and drave them out</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Resembling swine of nine years old to see.</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Thereafter all in front of her stood they,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>While she passed down along their whole array,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Smearing another drug on each of them;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And off their limbs the bristles fell away,</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>That the first baleful drug from Circe’s store</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Had made to grow upon them; and once more</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Men they became, and younger were to see</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And taller far and goodlier than before.</em><a href='#f9' class='c011'><sup>[9]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Then the ship was hauled into a cave, and their companions -were induced to come up to Circe’s house, where they all -joined in feasting and merriment. Cautious Eurylochus -tried to dissuade them; but Odysseus would give no heed -to his warning; and there followed a long interval of -riotous pleasure over which Circe and the river-nymphs -<span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>who were her handmaidens presided as queens. The days -went by uncounted in luxurious ease; and if, in rare -moments, Odysseus had an uneasy flash of memory, Circe’s -caressing voice would flatter and soothe him into complacence -again, persuading him to stay yet a little longer.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in34'>“<em>Myself I know</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>What sorrows you have suffered in the deep</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Wherein the fishes travel to and fro;</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>And likewise what the hands of hostile men</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of scathe on land have dealt you. Sojourn then</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Here with me, eating food and drinking wine</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Till the hearts rise within your breasts again</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>As when at first you from your home were lorn,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Rough Ithaca: but feeble now and worn</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>With long hard wanderings are you, and your hearts</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Forget all gladness; for you much have borne.</em>“<a href='#f9' class='c011'><sup>[9]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>So she would cajole them, and so the blandishments of -Circe proved far more effectual than her drugs. For a -whole year the thought of home and friends was driven -away, while jollity filled out the indolent hours. But -satiety came at last, and memory began to reawaken. With -rough home-truths, the sailors broke the spell that Circe -had cast upon their commander. They called him out -from her odorous, shadowy halls; and under the clear -sunlight that suddenly made Circe hateful, they reproached -him with his dalliance, and bade him flee at once if he -would save his soul alive. There was no withstanding -them; and indeed Odysseus had no wish to do so.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When evening came, he claimed from Circe the fulfilment -of her promise to send them safely back.... He would -be sad at leaving her, he said, since the time had passed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>so pleasantly in her sunny island; but now his men are -beginning to complain and he himself (though that he -did not tell her) had suddenly grown weary and remorseful. -It all seemed very simple: and he had not much misgiving. -Circe had only to speak the word, that they might have -safe convoy, and return to Ithaca. Surely the gods must -have laughed in irony at the man who thought to part -from Circe so lightly, knowing as they did the whole cost -of that parting for him. Circe was not to be cast off and -forgotten, as a mere incident of Odysseus’s adventures. -Her reply was proud, and of ominous import. Since they -wished to go, she would not detain them; but let Odysseus -summon all his courage:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in20'>“<em>Not against your will</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>You and your fellows longer shall abide</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Within my house; but you must first fulfil</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Another journey yet, the house to see</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of Hades and renowned Persephone.</em>“<a href='#f9' class='c011'><sup>[9]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The awful words fell horribly on Odysseus’s ear. So they -might not then simply hoist sail and away, gaily bound for -Ithaca? Instead, there was yet to make the bitterest -voyage that even Odysseus had made—a dark and awesome -journey to the nether world, there to see and hold converse -with the dead prophet, Tiresias.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>So spake she; but my heart was rent in me,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And sitting on the bed I bitterly</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Wept, and no longer did my soul desire</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To live, or yet the light of day to see.</em><a href='#f9' class='c011'><sup>[9]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>But so it was decreed, and since all his grief and horror -could not alter it, he begged of Circe at least to tell him how -<span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>he might find his way to the dread World of the Dead, -and how he might return in safety from it. Circe smiled -inscrutably. She knew that the passage there is all too -easily won.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Take no concern, for pilot need you none.</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Hoist but your mast and spread the sails of white,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And sitting let the North wind’s breath aright</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Bear her: but when on shipboard you have crossed</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The Ocean-river, there will come in sight</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>The tangled groves of Queen Persephone,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>A low shore set with the tall poplar tree</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And willow that untimely sheds her fruit;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>There run your ship abeach out of the sea,</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Beside the Ocean-stream’s deep-eddying flow,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And to the mouldering house of Hades go</em></div> - <div class='line in2'><em>Afoot.</em>“<a href='#f9' class='c011'><sup>[9]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>She told him all that he must do there; how he must pass -right through the crowding shadowy forms, and where two -loud-thundering rivers meet he must dig a trench and pour -out a drink-offering before the dead. But he must not let -them partake of it, and must keep them at bay with drawn -sword till the prophet Tiresias should appear and prophesy -to him of his return.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>So spake she, and Dawn straightway rose and shone</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Gold-throned; and in my shirt and cloak anon</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I clad me, and the nymph herself a great</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>White mantle, thin and beautiful, put on;</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>And round her loins a golden girdle fair</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>She drew, and cast a kerchief on her hair;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>But I throughout the house to everyman</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Went with soft words, and bade my crew prepare.</em><a href='#f9' class='c011'><sup>[9]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>The crew set cheerily to work, but they did not know all -yet; and when Odysseus told them of the dreadful voyage -they had now to make at the bidding of the goddess, they -were filled with despair. Perhaps Circe too was ruthful at -heart; and one act of grace at least she did them. For -when all was ready to launch the ship, they found that an -unseen hand had placed beside it the animals that they -would need for sacrifices in the World of the Dead:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>But when at last the margent of the sea</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And the swift ship we reached in misery,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>While from our eyes the heavy tear-drops ran,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Circe, before us gone invisibly,</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>By the black ship a ram and a black ewe</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Had tethered, lightly passing by our crew.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>For mortal eyes a god against his will</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Hither and thither going may not view.</em><a href='#f9' class='c011'><sup>[9]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Circe did not say farewell, because she knew that they -would meet again. For the first spirit to greet Odysseus -when he reached the dark Underworld was the restless -ghost of Elpenor, one of his own crew. In the hurry of -their departure, Elpenor had fallen from a gallery and had -been killed. His untended body still lay in Circe’s house, -and the poor ghost could not rest until it was buried. -So when the dreadful journey to the dead was accomplished, -Odysseus sailed back to Aeaea to perform the funeral rites.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Thus all the rites we ordered as was due:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>But Circe well of our returning knew</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>From the Dark House, and very speedily</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Arrayed herself and down anigh us drew.</em><a href='#f9' class='c011'><sup>[9]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>She made Odysseus tell her all that had befallen him, and -all that he had seen in the House of Hades; and then she -<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>gave him directions for his homeward voyage. He was to -beware of the Syrens, and of Scylla and Charybdis; but -above all he must prevent his men from doing injury to -the sacred Oxen of the Sun.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>But if you harm them, I foretell herein</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Destruction to your ship and all your crew;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And though yourself to Ithaca may win,</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Late and unhappy shall your coming be,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And all your crew shall perish.</em>“<a href='#f9' class='c011'><sup>[9]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Her black prophecy was fulfilled to the uttermost; and -indeed Circe seems destined always to be a baleful <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">augurer</span> -to Odysseus. Yet she herself is quite untouched by these -mortal woes. When the ship was manned she came down -to the sea to speed them away; and our last glimpse of -her is as she stands upon the shore, her garments and the -tendrils of her hair lightly fluttering, and her lovely body -drawn to its height as she raises white arms and cries to -the winds to follow them.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>They got them in and took their seats again,</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>And sitting at the benches in array,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Smote with their oars upon the water grey;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Until the fair-tressed goddess terrible,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Circe of mortal voice, to speed our way,</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Behind the blue-prowed ship sent forth anon</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>A following wind, a good companion.</em><a href='#f9' class='c011'><sup>[9]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class='c012' /> - -<div class='footnote' id='f9'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r9'>9</a>. </span>From Professor J. W. Mackail’s translation of the <cite>Odyssey</cite> -(John Murray).</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span> - <h2 class='c005'><em>Homer: Calypso</em></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_4 c009'>Calypso is a statelier figure than Circe, although -they have much in common. Looking casually -at the two characters, we are inclined to wonder -why Homer should have given them so many -points of resemblance. Both are immortals—Circe a -daughter of the sun, and Calypso a daughter of Atlas. -Both are skilled in sorcery; both live on islands set far -away amidst the sea; both are ‘fair-tressed’ and beautiful -and have sweet singing voices; both love Odysseus and -desire him for a husband.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But our first thought is corrected the instant we look at the -two goddesses a little more closely. In fact, the likeness -between them only helps us to realize the art which has -given to each of them a distinct individuality. We shall -find that Calypso is gentler and more dignified; a sweeter -and more gracious creature than Circe. There is nothing -sinister or malign about her; and if she loves Odysseus, -and strives to keep him at her side, it is that she may make -him immortal, like herself. She has no evil intent toward -him; and when the messenger of Zeus bids her to release -him, she sets herself the task of helping him away. Odysseus -has not now to pay a gruesome penalty for willing bondage, -as when he left Circe in Aeaea; but wins his way by -Calypso’s aid to the friendly land of Phæacia.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In a “far isle amid the sea” Calypso dwelt alone. The -blue sky bent over it to embrace the bluer sea; and round -its base a spray of foam perpetually laved the rocks with -snowy fingers. Out of the sea tree-clad cliffs rose steeply, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>and the scent of pines hung like incense in the warm air. -Deep chasms here and there rent the cliffs apart, and gave -access to the sea; but their sides were clothed with olives -and trailing vines; and far down below could be heard the -whisper of a little stream as it ran to join the murmuring -waves on a strip of golden sand. At the head of one of the -ravines was Calypso’s cavern.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Close to the cavern and clustered around it was growing a coppice;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Alder was there and poplar and cypress of delicate perfume.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Many a long-winged bird in the copse found covert at night-time,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Many a falcon and owl, and crook-billed chattering sea-crows,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Birds of the brine which busy themselves with a life on the ocean.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Here too, stretching in front of the hollow mouth of the cavern,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Trailed a luxuriant vine rich-laden with many a cluster.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Four bright runnels of water arose from a neighbouring fountain,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Each one nigh to the other but turned to a different channel.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Spreading around soft meadows with violets blossomed and parsley</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Richly bedight—yea e’en an immortal, if haply he came there,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>All might wondering view and rejoice in his heart to behold it.</em><a id='r10' /><a href='#f10' class='c011'><sup>[10]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Here it was, then, that Calypso, standing one morning in -the sunny entrance to her cave, first saw Odysseus. The -prophecy of Circe had been fulfilled. His crew had -impiously laid hands on the sacred Oxen of the Sun, and -smitten by an avenging storm sent by the wrathful Apollo, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>had every one paid the penalty with his life. Odysseus -only had been spared; and for nine days and nights he -had struggled alone with the waves on a shattered raft.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in2'><em>And on the tenth at night out of the sea</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To that Far Island the Gods drifted me,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Calypso’s home, the fair-tressed mortal-voiced</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Dread Goddess; and my friend and stay was she.</em><a id='r11' /><a href='#f11' class='c011'><sup>[11]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Calypso rescued and tended the shipwrecked man who was -thrown upon her shores; and after his awful peril and -hardship he was content to forget everything for a time. -Days and weeks and months slipped quickly past and -Odysseus remained, charmed by the beauty of the island -and the gracious society of Calypso. Sometimes, reclined -on the yellow sands where he had been washed ashore, she -would listen eagerly to the tales of his wanderings. Sometimes, -when the evening breeze blew chill from the sea, they -would sit together in the cavern:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Where from a brazier by her, burning well,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>A fire of cloven cedar-wood and pine</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Far through the island sent a goodly smell.</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>And in it she with voice melodious sang,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>While through the warp her golden shuttle rang</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>As to and fro before the loom she went.</em><a href='#f11' class='c011'><sup>[11]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>As Calypso sang her strange sweet melodies in the fire-lit -gloom, the memory of Ithaca and Penelope grew faint. -But one day the spell was broken. Standing on a cliff -and looking out to sea, he suddenly remembered home and -wife and friends; and from that time onward he did not -cease to long and pray for release. But year after year -dragged wearily on, and Calypso tried by arts and endearments -<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>and promises of deathless gifts, to win him to stay -with her. All her persuasion was fruitless, however, and -Odysseus</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in32'><em>Sitting far apart</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>On the sea-beach, as oftentimes before,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Fretted with tears and sighs and bitter smart,</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Out seaward to the barren ocean-rim</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Kept gazing, and his eyes with tears were dim.</em><a href='#f11' class='c011'><sup>[11]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Meanwhile, in high assembly of the gods upon Olympus, -Athena the loyal friend of Odysseus stood out and pleaded -his cause before them all. This austere daughter of great -Zeus despised the wiles by which Calypso would keep the -hero at her side; and begged her father to release him.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>But for Odysseus wise I am ill at ease,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>That man unhappy who amid the seas</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Far from his friends affliction bears for long,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Within the sea-girt island set with trees;</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>The island in whose bounds a goddess dwells,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Daughter of Atlas of the guileful spells....</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>But for his land Odysseus longs so sore</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>That even the smoke upcurling from its shore</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Fain would he see and die....</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Did not Odysseus on the gods bestow</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Guerdon of sacrifices long ago,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Down in wide Troy beside the Argive ships?</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Why does your wrath, O Zeus, afflict him so?</em>“<a href='#f11' class='c011'><sup>[11]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Zeus gently reproved his splendid daughter. Is it to be -supposed that he has forgotten wise Odysseus, famed for -his piety, and the constant friend of gods and men? But -there are reasons—partly the foolishness and rashness of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>the hero and his men—why all these delays and reverses -have fallen upon him; and but for Zeus they would have -brought on him destruction long ago. Athena may set -her mind at rest, however: the hour has come for his -deliverance. The great Father of the Gods turned to -his messenger:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Hermes,—for ever as herald thou bear’st the behests of immortals—</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Bring to the fair-tressed nymph our will’s immutable verdict,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Even that patient Odysseus return and arrive at his homeland....</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Thus is he fated his friends once more to revisit and once more</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Win to his high-roofed home and arrive at the land of his fathers.</em>“<a href='#f10' class='c011'><sup>[10]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Swift as light itself, Hermes sped down to Calypso’s island -and passed up through the flowering garden that embowered -her cavern. He paused a moment before entering, to let -his glance roam over the peaceful beauty of the scene and -to breathe the delicious fragrance of the evening air.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Till at the last, when his spirit was fully contented with gazing,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Into the wide-mouthed cavern he entered; and standing before her</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Straightway known was the god to the beautiful goddess Calypso,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Seeing that never unknown is a deity unto another,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>None of the spirits immortal, not e’en if he dwells at a distance.</em><a href='#f10' class='c011'><sup>[10]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Calypso greeted him gladly, not divining the cruel message -that he was charged to deliver. And while she hospitably -<span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>set before him the deathless food of the gods, she eagerly -inquired the reason of his unwonted visit.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Why come you, Hermes of the Rod of Gold,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Gracious and dear? You come not oft of old.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Speak, and most gladly to my power will I</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Do your desire, if fate have so controlled.</em>“<a href='#f11' class='c011'><sup>[11]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Hermes was reluctant to tell his errand, knowing the pain -that it would cause Calypso; and not until the meal was -over did he reveal it. He had come against his will, he -said, with a decree of Zeus concerning the hero whom she -is detaining in her island. Odysseus must be released.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>So spake he; but aghast thereat his word</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The bright of Goddesses Calypso heard,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And answering, spake a winged word to him:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>“Jealous you are, O Gods, to envy stirred</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>“Beyond all others, and can never brook</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>On loves of Goddesses and men to look....</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>“Yet I it was who rescued him, while he</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Clung round the keel, alone, when mightily</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Zeus shattered with a fiery thunderbolt</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>His racing ship amid the purple sea.</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>“There his good comrades perished; him alone</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Hither by flood and driving tempest blown,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I loved and nourished, and had thought to keep,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Deathless and ageless always for my own.”</em><a href='#f11' class='c011'><sup>[11]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The love of Calypso, of which she spoke so simply and -frankly to Hermes, was something deeper than caprice. -It was rooted in that heroic act when she had toiled to -drag him up out of the fiercely beating surf, and had -brought him back from the brink of death to the cheerful -<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>light of day. She had given him his life, and her love -with it; and ever since she had striven to keep him at her -side, thinking to win his love in return. But she was no -witch, to wreak evil spells over an unwilling heart; and -though the blow that Hermes had dealt her was a bitter -one, she replied with dignity. She would consent to the -will of Zeus, not merely because he might not be withstood, -but because it was her desire to do good to Odysseus.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Let him go hence across the barren sea;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Howbeit his convoy cannot come from me,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Since oared ships I have not to my hand,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Nor any mariners his crew to be</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Over the ridges of the broad sea-floor:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Yet will I gladly teach him all my lore,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And naught will hide of counsel, so that he</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Free from all harm may reach his native shore.</em>“<a href='#f11' class='c011'><sup>[11]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>So the Messenger of Zeus departed; and Calypso went -sadly across the island to the spot where she knew Odysseus -was sitting. As she came near she could see him, gazing -out to sea, home-sick and despairing. So he had sat this -many a day, turning from her in coldness or in anger to -go and mourn for far-off Ithaca and his mortal wife. Why -could he not be content to remain with her? Was Penelope -then so very beautiful—more beautiful than she, a goddess? -Had she not offered him immortality? Had she not lavished -tenderness upon him? And now she knew that at the first -word of her hateful news he would joyfully prepare to go, -and leave her alone with her regret. As she came up and -stood by his side, her heart was sore at the perversity of -fate. But there was no rancour in it; and having given -her word, she would fulfil it generously. So she put her -hand upon his shoulder gently as he sat with averted face:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>“<em>No more, unhappy man, sit mourning there,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Nor let your life be wasted; for to-day</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Myself unasked your journey will prepare.</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Up therefore, hew long beams, and skilfully</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Fit them with tools a broad-floored raft to be;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And build aloft a spar-deck thereupon</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To carry you across the misty sea.</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>But water I will store on it and bread,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And the red wine wherewith is comforted</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Man’s heart, that you be stayed from famishing;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And lend you raiment; and your sail to spread</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Will send a following wind, that free from ill</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Home you may win, if such indeed the will</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Be of the Gods, who hold wide heaven, and are</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Greater than I to purpose and fulfil.</em>“<a href='#f11' class='c011'><sup>[11]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The great good news was too wonderful for Odysseus to -believe. Bewildered and doubting, he forgot his usual -courtesy, and uttered an ungracious speech. Is she not -deceiving him? Does she not intend some evil?</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Other is here thy device, O goddess—not homeward to send me—</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>While on a raft thou bidd’st me retraverse a gulf of the ocean</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Such in its terrors and perils that never a well-built vessel</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Voyaging swiftly and gladdened by Zeus-sent breezes will cross it.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Ne’er will I mount on a raft—still less if it give thee displeasure—</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Art thou not willing to swear me an oath and solemnly promise</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Never against me to plot a device that is evil to harm me.</em>“<a href='#f10' class='c011'><sup>[10]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>Odysseus had suffered so much at the hands of angry -gods that he could not give credit to Calypso’s generosity. -He suspected her of anger too; and rather than risk the -perils of an awful voyage like the last, he would remain -here upon the island. His words would have embittered a -smaller soul; but Calypso saw what was passing in his -mind, and answered him playfully:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in16'>“<em>The Goddess bright and bland</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Calypso, smiling, stroked him with her hand,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>and spoke a word and answered: “Verily</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>A rogue you are, and quick to understand,</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Such words are these you have devised to say!”</em><a href='#f11' class='c011'><sup>[11]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>And then, knowing that he was really apprehensive of -danger, her voice dropped to a deeper tone, as she gave -him the solemn oath of the great gods.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Now Earth I take to record here to-day,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And the wide heaven above us, and the dread</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Water abhorred that trickles down alway,</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>(Which is the mightiest and most dread to break</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of all the oaths the blessed Gods may take)</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>No practice for your hurt will I devise,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>But take such thought and counsel for your sake</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>As for mine own self I would reckon good,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>If in the like extremity I stood.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>For my own heart is righteous, nor my heart</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Iron within me, but of piteous mood.</em>“<a href='#f11' class='c011'><sup>[11]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>He was convinced at last; and together they went back -to the cavern for the evening meal. Calypso served to -Odysseus his mortal food, and her handmaidens set before -her the deathless wine of the immortals. And while they -<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>ate, she suddenly realized how soon she must part from -him. Her brave mood faded as she thought how lonely she -would be when he had gone; and thought too of the -struggles which Odysseus had yet to make before he reached -his home. Again the haunting question came—Why need -he go at all? Why would he not stay with her? And -though she knew there was no hope, she pleaded with him -once more.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Odysseus, may your longing nought withhold</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To your own land so straightway to be gone?</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Then fare you well; but had your heart foretold</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>How many woes the fates for you decree</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Before you reach your country, here with me</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>You had abode, and in this house had kept,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And been immortal, howso fain to see</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>That wife for whom through all your days you pine:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Yet deem I not her beauty more than mine.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Since hardly mortal woman may compare</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>In shape and beauty with my race divine.</em>“<a href='#f11' class='c011'><sup>[11]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Odysseus had recovered his gallantry now. He begged -Calypso not to be wroth with him for desiring to go, and -acknowledged that Penelope was by no means so fair as she. -As to the ill that he had still to suffer, he would incline his -heart to endurance: “And now, let this too follow after, -if it will.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Under his courteous manner lay a stern resolve; and as -soon as morning came, Calypso set herself to prepare his -going. Though her heart was very sore, she helped him -readily.</p> - -<div id='CALYPSO' class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/i_093.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic001'> -<p>CALYPSO & ODYSSEUS<br /><br /><em>Patten Wilson</em></p> -</div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span><em>... The nymph threw round her a garment of glistering whiteness,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Delicate, lovely; and over her waist then fastened a girdle,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Beautiful, fashioned of gold; and her head in a hood she enveloped.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Then she bethought her to send on his way great-hearted Odysseus.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Firstly a great wood-axe, in his hands well-fitted, she gave him,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Fashioned of bronze, two-edged. ...</em></div> - <div class='line in28'><em>... and going before him</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Led to an end of the isle where tall straight timber was growing;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Alder was there and poplar and pine which reacheth to heaven,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Dry long since, well-seasoned and buoyant to float on the water.</em><a href='#f10' class='c011'><sup>[10]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Odysseus wrought joyfully at the raft, building with -infinite care and skill a strong, seaworthy vessel. Calypso -brought out to him the store of fair cloth that she had -woven upon her loom, and of this he made the sails, with -“brace and sheet and halyard.” When all the strenuous -toil was completed, he drew the raft on rollers down to -the sea and made ready to sail.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Now was the fourth day come, and all of his labour was ended;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>So on the fifth day sped his departing the goddess Calypso,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Bathing him first and arraying him freshly in fragrant apparel.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Then to the raft she conveyed dark wine in a bottle of goat-skin</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>—One was of wine and another, a greater, of water—and viands</em></div> - <div class='line'><em><span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>Stowed in a wallet; and many a toothsome relish she added.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Then did she send him a favouring breeze both gentle and kindly.</em><a href='#f10' class='c011'><sup>[10]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>So Calypso was left alone again on her little island; and -Odysseus, speeding before a favouring wind, was too absorbed -to give much thought to her. Freedom and the thought -of home filled him with exultation; and all his care was -bent to navigate the boat. But a grateful memory of her -survived in aftertimes; and often he would recall her -words to him, when she had given him the vow of good -faith:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>For my own mind is righteous, nor my heart</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Iron within me, but of piteous mood.</em><a href='#f11' class='c011'><sup>[11]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class='c012' /> - -<div class='footnote' id='f10'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r10'>10</a>. </span>From Mr H. B. Cotterill’s translation of the <cite>Odyssey</cite> -(Harrap & Co.).</p> -</div> - -<div class='footnote' id='f11'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r11'>11</a>. </span>From Professor J. W. Mackail’s translation of the <cite>Odyssey</cite> -(John Murray).</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span> - <h2 class='c005'><em>Homer: Nausicaa</em></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_4 c009'>Nausicaa was the only daughter of Alcinous, -King of Phaeacia. Young and beautiful, reared -amid abundant wealth, the idol of parents -and stalwart brothers, she is yet simple and -sweet and quite unspoiled. Her father was lord over a -rich seafaring folk; a kindly, generous, impetuous man. -Her mother, Queen Arete, was a star among women; so -wise and noble that the people saluted her as a god, and -Alcinous worshipped her with absolute devotion. There -is hardly anything in Homer more beautiful than the -loving description that Nausicaa gives of her mother sitting -beside Alcinous in the great hall like a benign goddess, ready -to stretch a welcoming hand to the stranger and the suppliant. -Even the great goddess Athena had words of praise -for Arete, when she met Odysseus on the road coming up -from the harbour:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in6'>“<em>Her Alcinous took to wife,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And honoured her as living woman none</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Of wedded wives is honoured upon earth:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Such is the worship paid her (and her worth</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>No less) by King Alcinous our lord</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And by the children who from them have birth.</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Yea, all her people, when she goes abroad,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Salute her and account her as a god.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>For of so excellent a wit is she,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Her woman’s wisdom puts a period</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>To strife of men who in her favour stand.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And if to you she reach a helping hand,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em><span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>Hope you may have to see your friends, and reach</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Your high-roofed house, and your own native land.</em>”<a id='r12' /><a href='#f12' class='c011'><sup>[12]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Nausicaa, as we shall see, is worthy of her parentage. The -gods were gracious at her birth, and gave her the fine -qualities of both father and mother. Yet courage and -resource and a wise generosity sit lightly on the youthful -figure that flits through the Sixth Book of the <cite>Odyssey</cite>. -She is a mere girl, fresh and untried, with an irresistible -gaiety of heart and a tender regard for home ties. Her -changing moods and caprices are like dancing sunlight, -and now and then there falls upon her a soft shadow -of wistfulness, cast by the ‘long, long thoughts’ of -youth.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Her pretty head holds its own romantic visions, which she -cannot, from girlish shyness, bring herself to talk about -freely, even to the dear indulgent father. So for fear of -his teasing and laughter, she practises a little harmless deceit -on him; which, however, does not deceive him in the -least, because his love can look right through it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>So she moves before us, a creature of grace and beauty, of -fineness and strength; but withal so happy and human -that the thought of her has the bracing sweetness of upland -meadows, or the breath of the summer sea. Yet it is this -fresh young girl whom we have to consider for a moment -as the unconscious rival of Penelope. The idea of such a -rivalry seems absurd, in connection with Nausicaa. And -so it is, taken clumsily out of its setting and robbed of the -poet’s delicate art. Yet the suggestion is clear; and the -marvel is that Homer has contrived to bring her out of the -ordeal with her young innocence quite untouched. The -beats of the love-god’s wings only fan her in passing, and -she is left unhurt by a single barb. For a happy instant -<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>she glimpses him in flight, and stretches a welcoming hand -in <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">naïve</span> pleasure. But the moment after, he has fled in -jewelled light and she is left, wondering and wistful, but -scathless yet.</p> - -<p class='c000'>So Nausicaa lives, a peerless girl in Homer’s group of -immortal women. She has served his purpose in the epic -plan—to link the story with Penelope and to enhance her -dignified maturity. She has served too, in the strongest -way, to accentuate the chivalry and constancy of the hero. -But in doing this, the tenderest care has been taken that -she shall not be despoiled of her exquisite charm.</p> - -<hr class='c010' /> - -<p class='c000'>Poseidon the Sea-god was still wrathful with Odysseus for -the injury done to his son, the Cyclops. But having gone -on a long journey to the land of the ‘blameless Æthiopians,’ -Athena had compassed in his absence the escape of the -hero. He had sailed joyfully from Calypso’s island, and -for seventeen days had fared onward steadily, with a -following wind. The wine and food that Calypso had given -him were still unspent, when on the eighteenth day there -loomed before him the island of Phaeacia, vast and shadowy -in the morning mist. Here, he knew, were friendly hands -and hearts; people who had never been known to refuse -safe convoy to distressed mariners. And Odysseus, feeling -that now at last the end of his struggles had come, steered -straight ahead. But he reckoned without Poseidon. For -that angry god, speeding on his homeward journey from -Æthiopia to Olympus, looked down from the mountains of -the Solymi and spied the raft of Odysseus, making for the -safety of a Phaeacian harbour. Amazement smote him; -then indignation, and then a furious desire for instant -revenge. So this was what the immortals had been doing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>in his absence—plotting to befriend the man who had so -foully mis-used his son. But no matter! If Athena must -needs win in the end—and even the might of Poseidon could -not eventually withstand her calm wisdom—her success -should be at bitter cost to this artful rascal whom she -favoured. So:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in12'><em>The clouds at his command</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Gathered, and with the trident in his hand</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>He stirred the sea and roused the hurricane</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of all the winds, and blotted sea and land</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>With clouds: night swept across the firmament:</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in10'><em>... a monstrous wave abaft</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Came towering up, and crashed into the raft:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And the raft reeled, and off it far he fell,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And from his hand shot out the rudder-shaft.</em><a href='#f12' class='c011'><sup>[12]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>It would take long to tell all that Odysseus suffered from -that awful storm. Only the lion-heart that he was could -have endured the terrible strain of it. The raft was lost, -and for two days and nights the fury of the storm lashed -him unceasingly. He was buffeted out of his course, and -when at last a calm fell and he saw land ahead, he had only -just enough strength left to strike out for it, with a great -prayer in his heart for deliverance from the wrath of -Poseidon.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is this exciting incident, told with tremendous vigour, -which is the prelude to the story of Nausicaa. For on the -very night when the waves flung Odysseus ashore on her -father’s island, she had a strange dream. A goddess stood -by her bedside, in the likeness of a girl friend; and with -hints of a happy marriage, bade her rise and go down to -the washing pools.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span><em>The grey-eyed Goddess, inly counselling</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Odysseus mighty-hearted home to bring;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To the richly-carven chamber went</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Where slept a maid, the daughter of the king,</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Like any deathless goddess fair and bright,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Nausicaa....</em></div> - <div class='line in10'><em>... “Nausicaa,” said she, “why</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Thus idly does your mother’s daughter lie,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The garments wrought with bright embroideries</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Unheeded? yet your wedding-day draws nigh;</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>When clad in goodly raiment you must go,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And on your marriage train the like bestow.</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>      ·      ·      ·      ·      ·</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Not long shall yet your maidenhood be worn.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Even now, amid the land where you were born,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Phaeacia’s princes woo you. Up, and bid</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>My lord your father yoke at break of morn</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>A mule-team and a cart whereon to lay</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Girdles and gowns and broidered blankets gay.”</em><a href='#f12' class='c011'><sup>[12]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>We who are watching behind the scenes know quite well -who is this celestial visitor; and that the whispered words -which have set Nausicaa’s cheeks tingling are a mere ruse -of Athena to bring help to the luckless Odysseus. But -Nausicaa has no hint of this; and waking with the morning -sun streaming upon her, she smiles in wonder and hope. -Then she dresses quickly and goes down to find her parents, -musing upon the words of the goddess. The queen is -sitting in the great hall, amid her handmaidens, winding -the ‘dim sea-purple’; and the king, coming out to join -the princes in council, meets Nausicaa on the threshold. -Is there anywhere a more charming scene than this?</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>“Papa dear, will you let me have to-day</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>A high wheeled waggon yoked, to take away</em></div> - <div class='line'><em><span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>The goodly clothes and wash them in the stream?</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>For in the house all lying soiled are they.</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>“Now for yourself it is no more than fit</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>That, when the councillors at council sit,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>In clean array among your lords you go:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Also your house has five sons born in it,</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>“Two of them wedded now, but three are yet</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Young bachelors, who evermore must get</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>New-washed attire when to the dance they go;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And now on all this charge my mind is set.”</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>So spake she, for her mouth for maiden shame</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To her own father marriage might not name.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Howbeit he understood and answered her:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>“Go, child: I grudge not any wish you frame,</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>“Mules or aught else: this thing my thralls shall do,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And yoke the high wheeled tilted wain for you.”</em><a href='#f12' class='c011'><sup>[12]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>As we see, Alcinous can deny nothing to his fair young -daughter. The lightly running mule-cart is ordered out, -and Nausicaa and the maids set busily to work. It is -refreshing to see this only daughter of a ‘king’ carrying -out the linen and fleecy blankets that have been daintily -wrought with needlecraft by her own hands. Alcinous, of -course, is not to be regarded as possessing the power and -state of a modern monarch; perhaps he was not a king at -all, in our sense of the word. But there can be no doubt -that his state was that of a rich and mighty lord, for he -lives in a magnificence which makes the simple practical -usefulness of his daughter all the more remarkable. She -helps the servants to load the wagon, while the Queen -herself places upon the box a skin of wine and many dainty -things to eat at their midday meal, together with a golden -flask of oil for their use when they wish to bathe.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>When all is ready, Nausicaa drives off merrily, her women -running at the side of the cart. Far out of the city they -go, past the embattled walls and the market-place and the -harbour: then on through farms and sloping, shimmering -olive-gardens, until they reach the sea and the washing-pools—the -very spot, in fact, where ‘toil-worn, bright -Odysseus’ is sleeping the sleep of exhaustion, after his -heart-breaking struggle with the waves. The mules are -unyoked and the clothes are brought out of the cart and -flung into the dark water. Then the girls bare their white -feet, catch up their fluttering garments, and tread the clothes -in the gushing water, gaily chattering the while. When -all are cleansed, they are spread out in the sun on the -pebbly beach, while the girls bathe and take their dainty -meal upon the shore.</p> - -<p class='c000'>All this while there lay in a thicket quite close to them, -the prostrate figure of Odysseus, like one dead. But when -the afternoon was wearing on, the girls joined in a merry -game of ball, before starting on their homeward journey. -The lovely group lives before us as we read, fresh from their -sea-bath, with crisping ringlets floating, cheeks touched to -a rosier hue by exercise and fun, and all the charms of youth -and beauty revealed as white arms throw the ball and -twinkling feet run hither and thither after it, upon the -yellow sand. Homer, in one of his rare exceptions, lingers -a moment to tell us how Nausicaa looked on this occasion. -But, characteristically, he does this by imagery, and imagery -in motion.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>But when their hearts with food were comforted</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Their kerchiefs they undid to play at ball;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And in the game white-armed Nausicaa led.</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span><em>Artemis the Arrow-showerer even so</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Rejoices on the mountain side to go</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>All down the long slope of Taÿgetus</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Or Erymanthus, while before her bow</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Wild boar and fleet-foot deer flee fast away,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And round her move the wild-wood nymphs at play,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Daughters of Zeus the Lord of Thunder-clouds;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And Leto joys at heart; for fair are they,</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Yet fairest of them all the child she bred;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And over all the rest her brows and head</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Rise, easily known among them. Even so</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Among her women shone the maid unwed.</em><a href='#f12' class='c011'><sup>[12]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>This is the moment for which Athena has been waiting, to -bring help to Odysseus.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Thereat the princess to a handmaiden</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Threw the ball wide, and missed her, and it fell</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>In a deep eddy. From them all outbroke</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>A long shrill cry: and bright Odysseus woke;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And sitting up he pondered inwardly:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>“O me, what land is this of mortal folk?”</em><a href='#f12' class='c011'><sup>[12]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>He is dazed by his long, long sleep. Where is he? What -land is this? Whose are those young figures that he can -just see by peeping through the leafy thicket in which he -lies? Are they the nymphs of the river along which he was -drifted out of the sea? Or are they human maidens who -may be besought to help? He does not hesitate long. -At all hazards he must speak to them, for he is in desperate -need. So, hastily breaking off a leafy bough to hide his -nakedness, he strode out of his lair. His uncouth figure -struck amazement and terror into the hearts of the girls.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Dreadful to them the sea-stained man drew nigh:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And up and down they ran dispersedly</em></div> - <div class='line'><em><span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>Along the jutting beaches; only then</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The daughter of Alcinous did not fly:</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Such courage put Athena in her breast:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Unfaltering she stood up and undistressed,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And faced him.</em><a href='#f12' class='c011'><sup>[12]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>For once Odysseus is at a loss. How shall he address her? -He is almost naked, haggard, and sea-worn, a terrible object -to girlish eyes. Shall he go up close, and in the attitude -of the suppliant, clasp her knees? Or will not his touch -and his close approach startle and shock her? But his wits -are not long to seek. He decides that it will be better not -to come too near, but to address her gently, from a little -distance. “I kneel to you, Protectress. God are you, or -mortal?” Thus he speaks first, gracefully complimenting -her beauty and courage.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in14'>“<em>If a god indeed you be</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of those who in wide heaven abide in bliss,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Unto none else than very Artemis,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Daughter of Zeus Most High, I liken one</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>So tall and fair and beautiful as this;</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>But if a mortal, such as dwell on earth,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Thrice fortunate are they who gave you birth,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Father and mother, and thrice fortunate</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Your brethren; surely evermore great mirth</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>And joyance fills them, while with hearts elate</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>They see a thing so lovely delicate</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Upon the dancing-floor. But far beyond</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>All others is that man most fortunate,</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Who loading you with many a precious thing</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>May woo you and to share his home may bring.</em>“<a href='#f12' class='c011'><sup>[12]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Cunning Odysseus’s words are winged with a deeper significance -than he knows, for all his subtlety and tact. Does -<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>Nausicaa recall her dream, just at this point? We cannot -tell. But when he goes on to relate at length about the -dreadful voyage on the raft through the vengeful storms -of Poseidon, she pities and longs to help him. She has -gauged him shrewdly, too. This eloquent stranger, with -his air of frank deference, is no rogue nor fool; but whoever -and whatever he may be, he is a suppliant whom it is the -will of Zeus to succour. So she speaks cheerily to him, -to allay his anxiety, telling him that he is in the land of -a friendly people, whose king, Alcinous, is her father. She -will herself guide him to the palace and see that he is cared -for. Then she turns to reproach the silly fear of her maids:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Stand still, my women! Why so timorous</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>At a man’s face? You do not surely think</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>This man is here with ill intent to us?</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>That living mortal is not, nor shall be,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Who to Phaeacia bearing enmity</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>May come: for very dear to heaven we are,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And dwell apart amid the surging sea.</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in12'>“<em>... But to our abode</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>We must make welcome this poor wanderer.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Strangers and beggars all are dear to God.</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in12'>“<em>... With this stranger be it so.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Give him to eat and drink, and make him bathe</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>In shelter, down the windswept bank below.</em>“<a href='#f12' class='c011'><sup>[12]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>So Odysseus is bathed and clothed and fed; and Nausicaa, -looking shyly at him as he reappears, is astonished at the -wonderful change that has come over him. She speaks -apart to the women, a little wistfully.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Listen, O white-armed girls, to what I say.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Not without warrant of the Gods’ array</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Who hold Olympus, does this man arrive</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>In the divine Phaeacian land to-day.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div id='NAUSICAA' class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/i_107.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic001'> -<p>NAUSICAA & ODYSSEUS<br /><br /><em>Batten Wilson</em></p> -</div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>“<em>Uncomely at the first he seemed to be</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>But now the Gods are not more fair than he,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Who hold wide heaven: I would that such an one</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Dwelt here and bore a husband’s name to me.</em>“<a href='#f12' class='c011'><sup>[12]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>A little timid hope is dawning in her heart. Is it possible -that this may be the lover of whom she dreamed? But -she will not let him know her thoughts; and as she offers -to guide him to the city, she tells him with modest dignity -that he must not ride with her in the wagon. He must -follow behind with the maids; and when the city walls -are in sight, and they are near the houses of men, he must -draw away from them and continue his journey alone. She -is not discourteous, she explains; but it is not seemly for -her to be seen by the people driving a strange man into -the city.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>And taunting speech from them I fain would shun,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Hereafter flung at this that I have done.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Proud-hearted are our people; and of them</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Meeting us, thus might say some baser one:</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>’And who is this, the stranger tall and gay</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>That here beside Nausicaa takes his way?</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And where may she have found him? Aye, no doubt</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>She brings a husband back with her to-day!...’</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>So will they say; and to my shame would be</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>That word, as I myself would think it shame,</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>If any other girl in suchlike way</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>While her own parents lived, should go astray</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>In a man’s company.</em>“<a href='#f12' class='c011'><sup>[12]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>But she gives him minute directions, so that he may find -her father’s palace after she has left him. He will pass -Athena’s grove, and the well, and the king’s park, before -<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>he comes to the town and the gate of the palace. He is -to go right into the palace, and not to hesitate.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>But when the forecourt and the palace-wall</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Have hidden you, pass quickly up the hall</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Straight to my mother. In the firelight she</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Sits by the hearth, while off her distaff fall</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>The threads of dim sea-purple, strand by strand,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Marvellous; and her maids behind her stand,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>By the hall pillar, and my father’s chair</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Next hers, where he, the wine-cup in his hand,</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Sits like a God. Yet pass him by, nor stay</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Till round our mother’s knees your hands you lay.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>For thus, although from very far you come,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Quickly shall dawn your glad returning day.</em>”<a href='#f12' class='c011'><sup>[12]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>It all falls out as she has said. They start off as the sun -is setting, and Odysseus follows behind the mule-cart at a -little distance until they reach the sacred grove of poplars -that Nausicaa has indicated. There he waits behind for -a space, while she drives on to the palace. Her handsome -young brothers come out to meet her, with hearty greetings -and questions as to how the day has fared. But she does -not make much response to them, leaving them to unharness -the mules and carry out the clothing while she slips away -to her room and the society of her old nurse.</p> - -<hr class='c010' /> - -<p class='c000'>Meanwhile Odysseus makes his way to the palace alone -and is amazed at its size and magnificence.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in32'><em>The brazen walls</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Athwart and endlong from the threshold went</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Even to the inmost chamber up the hall;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And a great frieze of blue ran round the wall;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And golden doors the stately house within</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Shut off, and silver doorway pillars tall</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span><em>Out of the brazen threshold sprang to hold</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The silver lintel; and the latch was gold;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And gold and silver hounds on either hand</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Stood.</em><a href='#f12' class='c011'><sup>[12]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>To this gorgeous palace, Alcinous and Arete give Odysseus -a royal welcome. They are charmed with their guest: -and when the queen, recognizing her handiwork on the -robe that he is wearing, elicits an account of his meeting -with Nausicaa, the king flames into anger.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Answered and said Alcinous: “Sooth to tell,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Guest, in this thing my daughter did not well,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>That hither with her maids she brought you not</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Herself, since first before her feet you fell.”</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>And subtle-souled Odysseus answer made:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>“Prince, on that faultless maiden be there laid</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>No blame herein: for with her hand-maidens</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>She bade me follow; but behind I stayed</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>“For fear of shame, lest haply should you see,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Your mind might deem some hateful thought of me.”</em><a href='#f12' class='c011'><sup>[12]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>This is not exactly what had happened, as we know; but -we do not love Odysseus any the less for the chivalrous lie. -The most loving father can be unreasonable sometimes, -and Alcinous would not have the sacred laws of hospitality -broken, even for the maidenly prudence of his own sweet -daughter. Impetuously he tries to make amends:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in18'>“<em>Nay, O guest,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Not so is framed my heart within my breast,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To be stirred up to anger without cause.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>In all things to observe the law is best.</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Fain were I—Zeus our Father hear me vow,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And thou, Athena, and Apollo, thou!—</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Such as you are and minded as I am,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>You took to wife my daughter even now,</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>“<em>And were called son-in-law of me the king,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Abiding with us.</em>“<a href='#f12' class='c011'><sup>[12]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>But Nausicaa’s dream was a lying vision; and the fine tact -of Odysseus is sorely put to it to find words for the inevitable -refusal. He is silent for a time; and then, beginning the -recital of all his eventful story, he gradually reveals to them -who he is, and tells about his home and the gentle wife -to whom he is longing to return. To the king and queen -his answer causes little regret. It means that they may -keep their fair daughter a little longer; and are there not -many Phaeacian princes from whom they may choose a -mate for her when she is ready? But Nausicaa, to whom -the nurse brings word of what is passing as she sits in her -beautiful chamber, hears the reply of Odysseus with a little -pang that she has never felt before. It does not linger -very long, however, and when the day comes for Odysseus’ -departure, and the guests are trooping into the hall for the -last banquet in his honour, she steals out among them to -bid him farewell. It is the last time we see her.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>But by the doorway of the stately hall</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>In godlike beauty stood Nausicaa;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And eyed him marvelling, and bespake him so:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>“Fare well, O guest, that when you homeward go,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Me too you may remember, and that first</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To me the ransom of your life you owe.”</em><a href='#f12' class='c011'><sup>[12]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Odysseus’ reply is gallant; but it is not mere gallantry. -He vows that he will never forget her. Only let great -Zeus and Hera bring him safely home:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in8'>“<em>Then would I alway</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To you, O maid, who rendered me my life,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>As to a God, in that far country pray.</em>”<a href='#f12' class='c011'><sup>[12]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class='c012' /> - -<div class='footnote' id='f12'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r12'>12</a>. </span>From Professor J. W. Mackail’s translation of the <cite>Odyssey</cite> -(John Murray).</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span> - <h2 class='c005'><em>Æschylus: Clytemnestra</em></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_4 c009'>We come now to the heroines of Attic -Tragedy. The women of Homer, with all -their romantic beauty and charm, gleam -on us from a far distance. A new type of -heroine has arisen, reborn out of the legends of the remote -past into a new age; and evoked by a poetic genius which -is greatly different from that of the Homeric epics.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In the interval which had elapsed since the epics were -composed, civilization had advanced, life had grown more -complex, and women had attained to a fuller and freer -existence. It was the Great Age of Greece; and as in -our own Elizabethan Age, the poetic genius of the time was -impelled to find expression in dramatic form.</p> - -<p class='c000'>From all these causes, we shall find that the women of Attic -Tragedy are possessed of a stronger and more vivid personality -than their Homeric forerunners. They are resolute, -purposeful, passionate—women of action as well as -of feeling. Physical beauty they do possess, as well as -grace and charm. Neither do they lack the gentler qualities -which are usually supposed to be peculiarly feminine. -Indeed, we could probably find an eminent example of every -so-called feminine virtue if we went through the range of -the heroines. But the stress is not now laid merely on -beauty and the gentler graces. It is laid rather on a -combination of these qualities with strength of intellect -and will, generous emotions, and a soaring spirit.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Such a change would appear to be right and natural—in -fact, almost inevitable. We should expect that the passage -<span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>of the centuries in an advancing civilization would give the -woman time and space ‘to bourgeon out of all within her’; -and that with a more harmonious development she would -definitely gain in mental height. We should expect, too, -that the dramatic genius would create a more clear-cut -individuality than that given by the epic poet in a long -narrative chiefly concerned with the doings of menfolk. -So that we are not surprised to find the women of tragedy -possessed of great vitality, and occupying a very large share -of the dramatists’ attention. What does surprise us, -however, is to discover that many of these newer heroines -are the very women whom we have already met in the -Homeric poems: that they have been taken straight over -from the heroic age, out of the ancient heroic themes, and -made to live over again, a new and vastly different life.</p> - -<p class='c000'>This brings us to a point which it is well to keep in mind. -Sometimes the heroines of Greek Tragedy do very terrible -things and are placed in situations of appalling horror. -Those acts, and the circumstances out of which they spring, -not only repel us but seem to be at variance even with the -spirit of the poet himself. Sometimes the heroine is the -victim of tyrannic physical force, and frequently again -there is the clash of motive, for which death seems to be -the only solution. Strange crimes, unheard of and almost -unthinkable, sometimes darken the atmosphere around -them. Age-old curses and hereditary feuds pursue them: -the terrible gift of beauty weighs them down; and over all -broods fate, a lurking, indefinable power against which, in -the last resort, they are powerless to stand.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There is then, sometimes in the heroines themselves and -almost always in their environment, an element of barbarism -which troubles us. The touch of savagery repels -<span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>us all the more from its contrast with the exquisite poetry -in which it is enshrined, and the noble spirit of that poetry. -We wonder why the dramatist should have placed creatures -so sensitive and highly wrought in situations which are so -crudely appalling; and the incongruity is not shaken off -until we remember the nature of the material upon which -the poet is constrained to work. For the Attic dramatists -went for the subjects of their poetry directly to stories out -of the primitive past—old legends which, though sometimes -very beautiful, nearly always contain elements of cruelty -and horror. The reason why they did this is interesting, -and explains some curious points about Greek Drama.</p> - -<p class='c000'>To us it seems strange that these poets, whose ideas were -probably as ‘advanced’ to their contemporaries as our -modern Drama is to us, did not take their themes out of -the vastly interesting and even momentous life of their -own day. Very occasionally they did this, as we know from -the drama of Æschylus called <cite>The Persians</cite>, which deals -directly with that tremendous event of Greek history the -Persian Invasion. But almost always, as we have said, -they turned away from their own time, and looked back -upon the ancient past for the subject-matter of Drama. -It is probable that poetical motives influenced them to -some extent—the same that made Milton turn back to -the Hebrew story of the creation, and Tennyson occupy -himself for nearly fifty years with the Arthurian legend. -But there was another, and more compelling reason; and -it lay in the religious character of the Attic theatre.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Greek Drama was a ritual, performed in honour of the gods. -It had its origin in the worship of the Thracian god Dionysus -or in a still older cult of ancestor-worship; and it had an -established convention that its themes should be taken -<span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>from legendary heroic subjects. So that the poet, however -he might modify character, was bound by tradition to the -main outline of the early stories. As we shall see, he -imbued those themes and characters with new significance. -Just as Milton puts the Reformation spirit into the story -of Adam and Eve, and Tennyson makes the Arthur of Celtic -legend into an ideal of modern gentlehood, Æschylus and -Sophocles and Euripides vitalize the old legendary forms -with the spirit of their own age. The spirit of that age -was profoundly interested in religion—perhaps because it -was beginning to lose its religion. It was passing out of -unquestioning belief in the old Olympian hierarchy; but -it had not yet attained to a new belief with any clearness. -And an extremely interesting fact is that here in the drama, -in the very cradle of religion, the new thought begins to -manifest itself quite clearly, despite the trammels of convention. -Each of the three tragedians represents some -phase of it; each shows, in greater or less degree, evidence -of the transition period in which old superstition was -being broken down; but each steadily maintained, through -the crash of falling faith, the sanctity of the moral law. It -is this clear view, this austere purpose and steady aim at -the highest, which gives Attic Tragedy its grandeur, and -the women of Attic Tragedy their surpassing interest.</p> - -<hr class='c010' /> - -<p class='c000'>What has been said above about the barbarity of the legends -on which Greek Drama is based, applies particularly to the -story from which the figure of Clytemnestra was taken. -It was a history of wrongdoing, of foul guilt going back for -generations: or rather, the history of a sin which, to use -the words of the poet himself, begot more sin in each -succeeding generation. Æschylus wrote his greatest work -<span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>around this theme, a trilogy of three dramas called the -<cite>Agamemnon</cite>, the <cite>Choephorœ</cite>, and the <cite>Eumenides</cite>. The -first two of these dramas furnish the material for the story -of Clytemnestra. The last deals with the remorse of -Orestes, her son, and the atonement by which the long -record of crime is finally closed and a new era of hope -begins. Clytemnestra is, as it were, the last sacrifice -demanded by the Furies which had pursued the house of -Tantalus so long, and she represents in herself the two -forces by which that vengeance had always been effected—a -wrong done and a wrong suffered. For Æschylus makes -us see that it is not only by the first sin of Tantalus that -all his descendants have been relentlessly pursued; but -that each in his turn has added something of his own—some -crime of passion or of pride—to bring the penalty -on himself.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is from this standpoint that we must look at Clytemnestra -and judge of her action. She was the instrument of a -power beyond herself, the dread fate which had marked -Agamemnon the king, her husband, as another victim of the -hereditary curse. But she was not merely an instrument. -She had fallen prey to her own unlawful passion, and when -she struck the blow which fate ordained, it was not impelled -by the single motive of revenge for the sacrifice of Iphigenia, -but a confusion of passionate anger and conscious guilt.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The <cite>Agamemnon</cite> opens with the joyful announcement of -the fall of Troy. The scene is laid in the wealthy city of -Mycenæ, in the palace of Agamemnon the king, where a -watch had been kept for many months for the return of -the Greek fleet. Ten years before, when the fleet had -sailed for Troy to avenge the carrying-off of Helen, there -had been left behind in the royal home a mother stricken -<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>by an awful grief. For the King Agamemnon, delayed at -Aulis by adverse winds, and in brutal haste to be gone, had -offered up to the gods a human sacrifice—the sacrifice of -his own young daughter Iphigenia. The prayers of -Clytemnestra the queen, and the tears of the beautiful girl -herself, could not prevail upon him. Iphigenia’s life was -forfeited to a hideous superstition, and the host sailed away, -leaving Clytemnestra overwhelmed with sorrow and wrath. -Here then are the two contributing elements to the tragedy—the -wrong done and the wrong suffered. Agamemnon, -driven on by the curse which lay over his house, blinded -by his own pride and headstrong impatience to the true -nature of the crime that he was committing, was forging the -weapon of his own destruction. And here too we have the -deed which accounts for and explains Clytemnestra—making -of her not the mere savage murderess of tradition, -without a touch of humanity, but an outraged mother, the -avenger of her child.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is necessary to emphasize this point a little because we -have been used to regard Clytemnestra as a mere monster -of cruelty. It is therefore a shock of surprise, when we -come to Æschylus for her story, to find that he has made -her quite human. He is not concerned in her case, any -more than with the other persons of his Drama, to expose -intricate motive, or to paint delicate shades of character. -In his task of hewing out dramatic form—of virtually -creating Drama—he left subtlety and ingenuity and stagecraft -to be perfected by his successors. Hence he is not -exercised very much about making his plot a plausible one, -or to explain how its incidents are effected. He has a great -religious purpose; and this, with the ritual form in which -he had to work, subordinates the purely dramatic elements. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>But he does clearly let us see—and this is all the more -important from his usual reticence—that the whole course -of Clytemnestra’s action was determined by Agamemnon’s -inconceivable cruelty.</p> - -<p class='c000'>This point eludes us often, because we accept the sacrifice -of Iphigenia as an act belonging to a barbarous age. So -it is, but we forget that the age of Agamemnon had practically -left barbarism behind it. The slaughter of Iphigenia -must have been almost as revolting to the ideas of that -time as it is to us; and although in times of national crisis -fanatical minds may have been capable of reviving the -savage custom of human sacrifice, that is no justification of -Agamemnon. And that he submitted to the superstitious -frenzy, and offered up the life of his child, was the act -which armed Clytemnestra against him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The deed was, however, of a piece with his character. He -was haughty, passionate, headstrong, brooking no resistance -and no rivalry: a man of tremendous force of character -who had grown too great and who in his pride had even -dared to dishonour Apollo himself in the person of his -votaries. To such a man, who after ten years’ preparation -found his fleet hindered by unfavourable gales, the slaying -of his daughter was merely an unpleasant step toward the -fulfilment of his purpose. Her beauty and her youth were -of little account, and her mother’s tears and entreaties were -brushed aside as weakness.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in10'><em>Sin from its primal spring</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Mads the ill-counselled heart, and arms the hand</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>With reckless strength. Thus he</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Gave his own daughter’s blood, his life, his joy,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To speed a woman’s war, and consecrate</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>His ships for Troy.</em><a id='r13' /><a href='#f13' class='c011'><sup>[13]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>The story of Clytemnestra, then, rightly begins here. She -too was passionate and proud, with a will of iron: a nature -of strangely blended strength and tenderness. When the -blow came from the hand which should have shielded her, -it struck dead her gentler self. She gave herself up to -thoughts of revenge; and hearing from Troy as the years -passed tidings of Agamemnon’s infidelity, the last link -between them was broken. Other news would come to -her ears: of sedition amongst the people, left so long -without a ruler; of the country suffering from the need -of its strongest men, who were all away at the war; and -of a certain Egisthus, her husband’s enemy, who had -returned from exile. There would be a bond of sympathy -between Clytemnestra and this Egisthus. Had he not a -feud against her husband? Was he not wronged by -Agamemnon, too? Had his father not suffered at the -hands of Agamemnon’s father? There would be a meeting -between them, followed by other meetings, while they -made common cause against the king; and presently the -two were united, not only in a plot for Agamemnon’s -overthrow, but in the bonds of guilty love.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When the news came of the fall of Troy and the return of -the army, Clytemnestra had matured her plans for vengeance. -For years she had nursed her wrath, and plotted -with all the subtlety of her mental powers. And for years -she had hoped for and dreaded the day which would bring -back the king to Mycenæ. Her love for Egisthus was -common knowledge in the palace. Her sin would doubtless -be proclaimed to Agamemnon immediately after his arrival, -even if he did not already know of it; and she knew -that the penalty of it would be death. So every instinct -and impulse of her nature, and every consideration -<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>of self-defence too, demanded instant action. Vengeance -for the murder of her daughter, her love for Egisthus, and -the need of self-preservation all combined to nerve her for -what she had to do. Agamemnon’s arrival was imminent; -she must be ready, and when the moment came she must -not falter. But meanwhile, before the old senators who -had gathered to welcome him (and who form the Chorus -of the drama) she must play the part of a loving wife.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When the first part of the Trilogy (the <cite>Agamemnon</cite>) opens, -beacon-lights announce the fall of Troy. The news flies -through the palace, and there is instant excitement. The -old senators come thronging out; and as they sing, wonderingly -and half-doubting, Clytemnestra the queen -suddenly enters. She stands for a moment to confirm -this amazing news, and the old men turn to address her. -But she makes no answer: it is as though she has not -heard them—as though nothing but the words “The king -is coming” clamour in her ears, and bring a rush of emotion -that stifles speech. She goes out silently; but while the -old men are singing of the doom of Troy, she reappears. -Her entrance now is resolute and majestical: her purpose -is taken, and in firm tones she declares to the Senators that -the news they have heard is true. As she speaks, the tide -of emotion rises again and carries her on to utterance that -is almost prophetic:</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Cly.</span></span> - <em>This day Troy fell. Methinks I see’t; a host<br />Of jarring voices stirs the - startled city,<br />Like oil and acid, sounds that will not mingle,<br />By natural - hatred sundered. Thou may’st hear<br />Shouts of the victor, with the dying groan,<br - />Battling, and captives cry....<br /> ... Happy if the native gods<br - /><span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>They reverence, and the captured altars spare,<br />Themselves not captive led by - their own folly.<br />May no unbridled lust of unjust gain<br />Master their hearts, no - reckless, rash desire.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Cho.</span></span> - <em>Woman, thou speakest wisely as a man,<br />And kindly as thyself.</em><a href='#f13' - class='c011'><sup>[13]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>Clytemnestra’s speech is significant. She knows the nature -of the king, and she fears that his victory over Troy has -been a brutal one, pushed even to the last extremity of -insult to the country’s gods. That impious pride is her -uppermost thought; with it, she steels her heart; and -when the herald arrives, she listens in ominous silence as -his tale confirms her utmost fears.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Her.</span></span> - <em>Agamemnon<br />Comes, like the sun, a common joy to all.<br - />Greet him with triumph, as beseems the man<br />Who with the mattock of justice-bearing - Jove<br />Hath dug the roots of Troy, hath made its altars<br />Things seen no more, its - towering temples razed,<br />And caused the seed of the whole land to perish.<br /> - ... His hand hath reaped<br />Clean bare the harvest of all bliss from - Troy.</em><a href='#f13' class='c011'><sup>[13]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>If anything were needed to confirm Clytemnestra’s resolution, -surely it lay in these words. Agamemnon, the ruthless -slayer of his daughter, the destroyer of Troy, who had no -fear of the gods and no pity for man, would have no mercy -upon her. She must kill or be killed; and she must act -quickly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Even while the herald spoke came the sound of the procession -which was bringing the king up from the ships. -First, his own chariot, surrounded by his guard and by -the people who had gone out along the road to welcome -<span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>him. Then, following close behind, a chariot containing -the solitary figure of a woman, seated amid the spoils of -war. She was Cassandra, a prize of battle, brought home -by Agamemnon to be his slave-wife. But she was no -ordinary slave. Daughter of Priam, King of Troy, and -virgin priestess of Apollo, she had been torn from the altar -of the god by her captor; and Clytemnestra, watching her -wild eyes, knew that Agamemnon had filled up the measure -of impiety to the gods and insult to herself.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Agamemnon uttered a laconic greeting to the people, while -the queen stood tense and still. By no word or sign did he -acknowledge his wife: only, in perfunctory terms, hailed -his country and his country’s gods, and thanked the people -for their welcome.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then Clytemnestra, holding tremendous passions in the -leash, began her formal speech of welcome.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Cly.</span></span> - <em>Men! Citizens! ye reverend Argive seniors,<br />No shame feel I, even to your face, - to tell<br />My husband-loving ways.</em><a href='#f13' style='text-decoration: none; - '><sup>[13]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>The hour has come for which she has waited so long: her -desperate plan is formed: all that may have been needed -to strengthen it has been heaped upon her in the pride -and insolence of the king. But she must dissemble a little -longer; she must force herself to speak lovingly, to appear -faithful before the people, and to lull suspicion in Agamemnon’s -mind. In her husband’s speech there had been a -veiled menace: and now, after the first conventional -phrases of affection, her words, too, take on a double -meaning; and an undercurrent of bitter irony runs through -them. On the surface lies the obvious meaning, to meet -the exigency of the moment; just below it lay another -<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>sense, designed to leap to life and plead for her when the -deed that she is contemplating shall be accomplished.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>There comes a time when all fear fades and dies.</em></div> - <div class='line in16'><em>... Does any heart but mine</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Know the long burden of the life I bore</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>While he was under Troy?</em>“<a id='r14' /><a href='#f14' class='c011'><sup>[14]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The time has indeed come to put aside fear, but for a -reason that these senators cannot see yet, any more than -they can conceive the real nature of the burden that she -had borne so long. To say that Clytemnestra’s speech is -not really that of a faithful wife, that it is too loud in its -protestations of joy, too insistent and eager in its avowal -of fidelity, is beside the mark. For not only is Agamemnon -in all probability aware of Clytemnestra’s sin, but she -realizes that he may be aware of it. Hence the deep irony -of the situation; and hence too the fact that these protestations, -begun calmly and deliberately with the object of -deceiving the crowd, gradually take on a different tone. -The king’s manner to her from the moment of arrival had -been cold, even repellent. The conviction grows that he -has been forewarned, and with that conviction, the sense -of danger to herself is heightened. As her speech proceeds -we seem to feel her quickening pulse and tingling nerve, -we seem to share the rush of fear that sweeps away restraint -and carries her along a torrent of language that is wild, -vehement, and almost frenzied.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in16'>“<em>Now with heart at peace</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I hail my King, my watchdog of the fold,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>My ship’s one cable of hope, my pillar firm</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Where all else reels, my father’s one-born heir,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>My land scarce seen at sea when hope was dead,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>My happy sunrise after nights of storm,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em><span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>My living well-spring in the wilderness!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Oh, it is joy, the waiting time is past!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Thus, King, I greet thee home. No god need grudge—</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Sure we have suffered in time past enough—</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>This one day’s triumph.</em>“<a href='#f14' class='c011'><sup>[14]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>At this point she seeks relief in action from the stress of -emotion:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in18'>“<em>Light thee, sweet my husband</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>From this high seat: yet set not on bare earth</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Thy foot, great King, the foot that trampled Troy!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Ho thralls, why tarry ye, whose task is set</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To carpet the King’s way? Bring priceless crimson:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Let all his path be red, and Justice guide him,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Who saw his deeds, at last, unhoped for, home.</em>“<a href='#f14' class='c011'><sup>[14]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Self-control is clearly returning. There is profound significance -in her closing words, an invocation to Justice to -lead Agamemnon to his doom. There is an inner motive, -too, as well as awful irony, in the invitation to the king to -walk on ‘priceless crimson.’ She must contrive that he -will commit himself still further before the people, who -are already stirred by faction and chilled by his hauteur. -In the full light of what she is about to do, she sees that -this is Agamemnon’s last public act; and has determined -that the man of blood shall walk to his death along a -crimson path. The deed is almost sacrilege; but after -some protest, Agamemnon yields to her entreaties.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>If you must have it so, let some one loose</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The shoe that like a slave supports my tread;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Lest, trampling o’er these royal dyes, some god</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Smite me with envious glances from afar.</em>“<a id='r15' /><a href='#f15' class='c011'><sup>[15]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>He has a consciousness of what he is doing, and his mind -misgives him; but he who could deny to the mother the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>life of her child, cannot refuse this indulgence to his pride. -Clytemnestra, in exultation that she can hardly conceal, -reassures him. In lines of exquisite poetic beauty, but -weighted with a meaning that he does not see, she declares -that this honour is his due; that it is a sacrifice for his -return. Then, as Agamemnon passes within the palace, -she remains for one instant outside. The fire of exultation -dies away. She forgets the people standing round, the -need for dissimulation, the danger of discovery. One -thought sweeps everything else away—the thought of the -stupendous deed that she is about to attempt, its horror and -its peril. She raises her hands and utters an awful prayer:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Zeus—thou fulfillest all—fulfil my prayer!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And take good heed of all thou doest herein!</em>“<a href='#f15' class='c011'><sup>[15]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Then she follows Agamemnon into the palace. But there -remains one person whom she has overlooked, Cassandra, -priestess and prophetess of Apollo. As the Chorus takes -up a lovely song full of foreboding, the queen returns and -calls to Cassandra to come within. But there has fallen -upon Cassandra a prophetic vision of the crime. She is -distraught with fear and horror, and can find no answer -to the imperious queen. Clytemnestra, to whom every -moment is of infinite importance, suddenly loses all her -dignity in mere rage at the silent, helpless girl.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>I have not time to waste out here with her.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>By this the victims at our midmost hearth</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Stand ready for the slaughter and the fire;—</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Rich thank-offerings for mercies long despaired.</em></div> - <div class='line in18'><em>... I’ll not demean myself</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>By throwing more words away.</em>“<a href='#f15' class='c011'><sup>[15]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>As Clytemnestra passes a second time within doors, the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>poor captive begins to wail a prophecy of what is about -to be enacted there. She mourns for the awful curse upon -the house.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in14'>“<em>There bides within</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>A band of voices,—all in unison,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Yet neither sweet nor tuneful, for their song</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Is not of blessing. Ay, a revel-rout,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Ever emboldened with new draughts of blood,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Within these walls, a furious multitude,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Hard to drive forth, keep haunt, all of one kin.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>They cling to the walls; they hymn the primal curse,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Their fatal hymn.</em>”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>She foresees the death of Agamemnon, and her own fate -beside him. Twice she approaches the palace and twice -recoils in horror. But at last, committing herself to -Apollo, she rushes within; and instantly there rises a -dreadful cry. It is the voice of the king.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Ah! Ah! I am mortally stricken, here, in the palace!</em>”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The old men stand paralysed with fear; and before they -can move a step to help, the agonized voice cries a second -time:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Oh me! Again I am smitten, to the death!</em>”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>There is an instant uproar and outcry. The palace becomes -noisy with hurrying feet and clamorous voices; the old men -feebly rush this way and that, unable to decide, in their -weakness and senility, how to act. In the midst of the -disorder, the doors of the palace are thrown open, and -Clytemnestra is revealed, weapon in hand, bending over -the body of Agamemnon. A dreadful hush falls; and the -queen, drawing herself up before the people, deliberately -confesses to the deed and declares her motives.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>“<em>I, who spake much before to serve my need,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Will here unspeak it, unappalled by shame.</em></div> - <div class='line in10'><em>... Time, and thought still brooding</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>On that old quarrel, brought me to this blow.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>‘Tis done, and here I stand: here where I smote him!—</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I so contrived it,—that I’ll ne’er deny,—</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>As neither loophole nor defence was left him....</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Such—O ye Argive elders who stand here,—</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Such is the fact. Whereat, an if ye will,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Rejoice ye!...</em></div> - <div class='line in16'><em>Such a cup of death</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>He filled with household crime, and now, returning,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Has drained in retribution.</em>”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>But to the Senators only one thing is clear. A terrible -crime has been committed: their king has been foully slain. -All Clytemnestra’s pleas in extenuation of the deed are -wasted words. To them the situation is tragically simple: -her guilt is plain; there is but one word that fits her—murderess. -There is no question for them of reason or -of motive. What she claims to be a righteous judgment -upon Agamemnon, they declare to be a crime demanding -punishment. But they are not strong enough to enforce -their will; and when they threaten Clytemnestra with -banishment, she answers with scorn.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>That is your sentence. I must fly the land</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>With public execration on my head.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Wise justicers! What said ye, then, to him</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Who slew his child, nor recked of her dear blood</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>More than if sacrificing some ewe-lamb</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>From countless flocks that choked the teeming fold,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>But slew the priceless travail of my womb</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>For a charm, to allay the wind from Thrace?...</em>”</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in4'>“<em>Then hear my oath. By mighty Justice,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Final avenger of my murdered child,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>By Atè and Erinys, gods of power,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To whom I sacrificed this man, I look not</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>For danger as an inmate, whiles our hearth</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Is lightened by Aegisthus, evermore,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>As hitherto, constant in love to me;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>My shield, my courage!</em>“<a href='#f15' class='c011'><sup>[15]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div id='CLYTEMNESTRA' class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/i_129.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic001'> -<p>CLYTÆMNESTRA<br /><br /><em>Hon. John Collier</em><br /><br /><em>By permission from the original picture in the Guildhall Art Gallery</em></p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>Then, as the elders mourn the death of the king and the -demon of vengeance that haunts the house, Clytemnestra, -in passionate conviction, declares that she has been merely -an instrument of that spirit of vengeance.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in24'>“<em>But I</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Here make my compact with the hellish Power</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>That haunts the house of Atreus. What has been,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Though hard, we will endure. But let him leave</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>This roof, and plague some other race henceforth</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>With kindred-harrowing strife. Small share of wealth</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Shall amply serve, now I have made an end</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of mutual-murdering madness in this hall.</em>“<a href='#f15' class='c011'><sup>[15]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>She comforts herself with the thought that now at last -the Furies are appeased. No doubt of her own motives -assails her: no warning hint that crime is not cancelled -by fresh crime. In the first glow of triumph she has no -premonition of the return of an avenging son. She proposes -to herself a reign of peace with Egisthus which shall -erase all memory of the past.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Might but this be all of sorrow, we would bargain now for peace....</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I and thou together ruling with a firm and even hand,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Will control and keep in order both the palace and the land.</em>“<a href='#f15' class='c011'><sup>[15]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>On this note of false security the <cite>Agamemnon</cite> closes; and -for the fate of Clytemnestra, which now becomes bound up -with the story of Electra, we must go to the second drama -of the trilogy, the <cite>Libation-bearers</cite>.</p> - -<hr class='c012' /> - -<div class='footnote' id='f13'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r13'>13</a>. </span>From Professor J. S. Blackie’s translation of the <cite>Agamemnon</cite> -(Everyman’s Library).</p> -</div> - -<div class='footnote' id='f14'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r14'>14</a>. </span>From Professor G. Murray’s translation of part of the -<cite>Agamemnon</cite> in his <cite>Ancient Greek Literature</cite> (William Heinemann).</p> -</div> - -<div class='footnote' id='f15'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r15'>15</a>. </span>From Professor Lewis Campbell’s translation of the <cite>Agamemnon</cite> -(Clarendon Press).</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span> - <h2 class='c005'><em>Æschylus: Electra</em></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_4 c009'>The Æschylean Trilogy pauses at the point of -Clytemnestra’s triumph. The first drama, the -<cite>Agamemnon</cite>, ends there. We left the queen -tasting the joy of revenge, but by no means -gloating heartlessly over Agamemnon’s fall. She was -conscious of the magnitude of the event; and the awfulness -of her deed would have daunted even her strong spirit had -she not been confident that she was the instrument of destiny -in striking down the proud and cruel king.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The friends of Agamemnon, the loyal faction which should -have risen against her, must have been few and weak. They -were evidently soon subdued. They could not stand -against the force of her powerful will; and, moreover, she -combined with her strength a wise tact and a keen sense -of justice. Doubtless these qualities had gone far to -establish her government in Agamemnon’s long absence. -Her sway was no new thing to the people of Argos; and -when she resumed it with Egisthus as her consort, she -took up the thread of her former life, with little outward -sign to mark the change.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Underneath the surface of national life, wrath and horror -at the murder of the king must have smouldered. Inside -the palace itself, as we shall see presently, there was a small -party ardently devoted to his memory and to the cause -of his absent son, Orestes. But they were no match for -Clytemnestra; and she in her turn, having shaken off the -nightmare of fear in which she had lived for so many -years, proposed to herself a future that should cleanse and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>sweeten all the past. Her first emotion was one of intense -relief, not only from the long strain of suspense, but from -the fact that now, as she firmly believed, the old curse upon -the house of Atreus had at last been fulfilled. Her hand -had dealt the final blow; the last life demanded by that -implacable spirit had now been offered up. Henceforward -it only remained to wipe out the past by just rule and -sober living.</p> - -<p class='c000'>So for a time—we do not know quite how long—she lulled -herself in false security. Years may have passed in this -ominous calm: memory fell asleep, and she lived serenely in a -present that was full of such interest and action as her mind -delighted in. In such a mood, she would not observe, or -would disregard, small signs of disaffection around her. -Day by day she would see the sad face of her daughter -Electra; but until some shock came to awaken her sleeping -soul, Electra’s accusing eyes would fall upon her unheeded. -The awakening came at last, however; and it is at this -point that Æschylus opens the second part of his Trilogy, -in the drama called the <cite>Choephorœ, or Libation-Bearers</cite>.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The scene is laid outside the Royal Palace at Mycenæ, before -that tomb of Agamemnon which archæologists within recent -years have brought to light on the ancient site of the city. -The time is morning, and two young men, who have -evidently travelled far, approach the tomb. One is Orestes, -the son of Agamemnon whom Clytemnestra had sent away -as a child. The other is his dear friend Pylades. Orestes -has returned secretly to Argos, bidden by the oracle of -Apollo to avenge his father’s death. But he has no army: -he does not know that he has a single friend in Mycenæ; -and his purpose is fraught with extreme danger. How he -will accomplish it he cannot yet imagine; but he must -<span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>first try to discover if there are any in the palace who will -befriend him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As they reach the tomb, Orestes calls upon Hermes, the -god who guides the shades of the dead, and invokes his -father’s spirit.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>O Hermes of the Shades, that watchest over</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>My buried father’s right, be now mine aid.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I come from exile to this land. Oh save me!</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>      ·      ·      ·      ·      ·</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Father, here standing at thy tomb I bid thee</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Hear me! Oh hear!</em>“<a id='r16' /><a href='#f16' class='c011'><sup>[16]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Then, according to a solemn custom of the heroic age, -Orestes begins to clip the locks of hair from his head and -place them upon the tomb as a votive offering. As he is -thus engaged, a train of mourning women slowly emerge -from the palace, carrying vessels in their hands with libations -for the dead. They are slaves, captive Trojan women -whom the poet uses as the Chorus of his Drama; and they -are followed at a little distance by the drooping figure of a -girl, whom Orestes rightly believes to be his sister Electra. -They are coming to pour offerings at the tomb of the king. -This in itself is a sign of encouragement to Orestes. But -he dare not show himself until he is assured that they are -friendly to his cause; and he and Pylades hastily withdraw, -where they may hear and see the ceremony without being -seen.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The women are singing; and as their lovely parodos rises -and falls, we learn why they are coming thus early to the -neglected tomb of the murdered king. The astounding -fact reveals itself that they are sent by Clytemnestra. -Clearly, the awakening has come to her at last. In the -night that has just passed she had been visited by a dream -<span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>that seemed to her a dreadful portent. She had started -from her bed, screaming with horror, and had called for -lights. But the crowding women with their lamps could -not drive away the vision of the fearful serpent-birth that -had turned and rent her breast. And Clytemnestra, her -conscience suddenly shaken into life, had sent for the -interpreters. They had no comfort for her, however, in -their reply:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>They cried, aloud, by heavenly sureties bound,—</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>“One rages there beneath</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Menacing death for death....”</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>So the interpreters confirmed her fear, that this dream -was an omen sent from the unquiet spirit of her husband. -Remorse assailed her. The shade of Agamemnon, neglected -hitherto, must be propitiated. As soon as daylight came, -libations should be poured upon the tomb; and that they -should be acceptable, Electra should perform the rite. -She might not herself call upon that dread spirit in the -underworld; but Electra, with her grief-marred face and -her loyal love to her father, would be a fitting suppliant.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Thus it happens that Electra, in the first light of early -morning, stands at the tomb. Her heart is filled with -bitter grief. She loathes the task that she is commanded -to perform—the rite which, after years of callous neglect, -is only now offered to the injured shade because some -beginning of fear has come into her mother’s mind. In -all this time, none of the dues that are sacred to the dead -had been permitted for Agamemnon. No libations had -been poured, no locks had been shorn from the head; and -even the mourning of Electra and her women had had to -be hidden away from sight and sound of the queen. Now, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>suddenly, from no motive of love or reverence to the dead, -from no sense of tenderness to her daughter, from no reason -that Electra can perceive save a premonition of danger to -herself, Clytemnestra orders that the proper ceremonies -shall be observed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Electra cannot see the real motive which sways the queen. -Partly from her very youth and innocence, partly because -there is in her a tinge of the iron temper of her father, she -is blind to everything but Clytemnestra’s guilt. She sees -her mother in the light of one fact only—the murder of -the being whom she had loved most dearly. And looking -back upon the past, all its events are viewed through that -harsh light. There was the banishment of her brother -Orestes; the coming of the strange man Egisthus whom, -for some reason that she could not then comprehend, she -had always loathed; the return and death of her father; -her own subsequent misery and degradation. With the -hardness of youth, she can conceive of nothing which -could explain her mother’s action, much less palliate it. -Her sister Iphigenia she could not clearly remember; and -if the story of her sacrifice was known to Electra, her -absolute devotion to her father accepted it unquestioningly. -In no case could she apprehend how that crime would -wound her mother; just as she could not see or understand -the darker side of Agamemnon’s character. Only one -thing was painfully realized—that the great king who was -her father, and who had known how to be tender to the -little girl he left at home in Mycenæ, had been done to -death by the woman she called her mother. And now this -woman, whom the years had taught Electra to hate, -commanded her to supplicate the wronged dead for peace. -Electra cannot, and will not, entreat the dead in terms -<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>like these; and her first speech is awful with the bitterness -in her heart. She turns to the slaves, the Trojan women -who are attending her:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Ministrant women, orderers of the house,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Since ye move with me to this suppliant rite,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Be ye my counsellors, how I must perform it.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>When I pour this tribute at the grave,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>What words will be in tune? What prayer will please?</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Shall I say, Father, from a loving wife</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>This comes to thy dear soul: yea, from my mother?’</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>That dare I not.—I know not how to speak,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Shedding this draught upon my father’s tomb.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Or shall I say, as mortals use, ‘Give back</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The giver meet return?—to wit, some evil’?</em></div> - <div class='line in32'><em>... Be kind, and speak.</em>“<a href='#f16' class='c011'><sup>[16]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Grief and anger make her speech broken and barely coherent, -as her thoughts are. But below the emotion, and almost -unconsciously, there is a hint of some purpose forming. -Once for all she puts aside her mother’s orders; but she -is not clear what will take their place. The dawning -thought has not taken shape yet; and the vague counsels -of the women do not at first help her. But presently they -speak the name of Orestes, and bid her look for help to him. -She is startled at the name, and the gleam of hope it brings -lights up the underlying thought. She realizes suddenly -what it means.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Elec.</span></span> - <em>Well said and wisely! That most heartens me.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Cho.</span></span> - <em>Then think of those who shed this blood, and pray—</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Elec.</span></span> - <em>How? Teach me; I am ignorant. Speak on.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Cho.</span></span> - <em>Some power, divine or human, may descend——</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Elec.</span></span> - <em>To judge or execute? What wilt thou say?</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Cho.</span></span> - <em>Few words, but clear. To kill the murderer.</em><a href='#f16' - class='c011'><sup>[16]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>Here then is the thought of her own brain, clothed in -words and echoed back to her from the women whom she -<span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>has implored to advise. But put thus into cold language, -they have a dreadful sound from which she recoils in -horror.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Elec.</span></span> - <em>But will the gods not frown upon such prayer?</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Cho.</span></span> - <em>Do they not favour vengeance on a foe?</em><a href='#f16' style='text-decoration: - none; '><sup>[16]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>In this tense dramatic moment, we are shown what the -theme of the Drama is to be. We are shown too, as vividly -and almost as rapidly as in a lightning-flash, the clear -outlines of Electra’s character. The beautiful devotion -to her father’s memory: the blind hatred of Clytemnestra: -the desire for revenge vaguely forming, and leaping full-grown -at the first prompting from without; but—and -here is the crux—that desire held in check by a profound -religious sentiment. This reverence for the gods makes -the whole tragedy, for Electra and Orestes both; it provides -the dramatist with the inevitable inner conflict round -which the action will revolve; and, most important of all, -it has an ethical significance which will sanctify the revenge -of Electra and Orestes. For while the mere human impulse -with them both is to strike back rapidly and without mercy -for the blow that has killed their father, a higher sense -restrains them; and it needs an imperious mandate from -Apollo to nerve them to the deed. This reluctance for the -shedding of blood is a new thing in the age-long record of -the house of Tantalus. When Electra asks whether the -gods will not frown upon a prayer for vengeance, there is -the birth of a holier spirit which will atone for and purify -all those old crimes.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But first the final retribution must fall. Electra now lifts -her voice in solemn prayer to the awful gods of the underworld -and to the spirit of her father. She prays for a wiser -<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>heart and purer hand than her mother’s. With almost -faltering words—literally constrained thereto, she says—she -prays for vengeance; and she implores that Orestes -may return and claim the throne now occupied by the -hated Egisthus.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is at this moment, just as the prayer closes in the -Choral hymn, that Electra sees the locks of hair upon the -tomb. She is amazed, almost alarmed. There is only -one creature in all the world who should bring such an -offering. If any other has placed it here, it is an act of -sacrilege. She takes up the hair, examines it, and speaks -about it rapidly and anxiously to the women. Gradually -the conviction dawns that it can be no other than a votive -lock shorn from the head of Orestes himself. Then he has -been here? But where is he now? The thought that he -has indeed returned, that he may even be near at hand at -this moment, drives wild hope and fear alternately through -her mind. Holding the lock within her hand, she says:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in4'>“<em>Ah! could it but speak, and tell me</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Kind news, I were not shaken thus and cloven,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Thinking two ways: but either with clear scorn</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I would renounce it, as an enemy’s hair;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Or being my brother’s, it should mourn with me,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And pay sweet honours at our father’s tomb.</em>“<a href='#f16' class='c011'><sup>[16]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Meantime, Orestes in his hiding-place had verified the -fact that Electra was his sister. He had reassured -himself, too, on another vital point. What he had heard -and seen had convinced him that this group of women -at least was friendly to his cause. And at its head, -holding out against great odds, and suffering extreme -ills in consequence, was this brave spirit of Electra -who, with all her tender and loyal devotion, was strong -<span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>enough to dare the uttermost with him. He need no longer -delay to reveal himself. He had heard Electra’s prayer for -his return, and for vengeance on his father’s murderers; -and, stepping forward, he came like an instant answer to -her petition.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Ores.</span></span> - <em>First tell the gods thy former prayer is heard.<br /> Then pray that all to come - be likewise good.</em><a href='#f16' class='c011'><sup>[16]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>But Electra cannot recognize in this tall young man the -boy who left their home so many years before. She is -startled and incredulous; and there follows a curious little -scene which, if it occurred in a modern play, would simply -cause derision. Orestes gives such quaint evidence of his -identity—the colour of his hair, which matches her own; -the length of their footprints, which is similar; the embroidery -on the robe that he is wearing, which he says was -wrought by her own hands before he went to Athens. The -poet is not very much concerned with probabilities. He -has a great religious purpose which dominates all other -considerations; and in the sublime onward sweep of the -tragedy we are not troubled by minor inconsistencies. -At this point they are simply lost sight of, in the keen -dramatic interest of the scene when Electra is at last -convinced that this is indeed her brother. What is proof -to her is more than ample proof to us.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Elec.</span></span> - <em>Shall I, in very truth, call thee Orestes?</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Ores.</span></span> - <em>You see myself ...<br /> Nay, be not lost in gladness! Curb thy heart<br /> - We know, our nearest friends are dangerous foes.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Elec.</span></span> - <em>Centre of fondness in thy father’s hall,<br /> Tear-watered hope of blessings - yet to be,<br /> Faith in thy might shall win thee back thy home!<br /> Oh how - I joy beholding thee! Thou hast</em><br /><span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span> <em>Four parts in my desires, - not one alone.<br /> I call thee Father: and my mother’s claim<br /> Falls to - thy side, since utter hate is hers.<br /> And my poor butchered sister’s share is - thine.<br /> And I adore thee as my own true brother.<br /> But oh! may holy - Right and Victory,<br /> And highest Zeus, the Saviour, speed thee too!</em><a - href='#f16' class='c011'><sup>[16]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>Then Orestes plainly declares the reason for his return, -and taking up Electra’s prayer to Zeus, he cries for help -in the vengeance to be accomplished for his father. He -claims that he has a direct mandate from Apollo.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Ores.</span></span> - <em>... Apollo’s mighty word<br /> Will be performed, that bade me stem this - peril.<br /> High rose that sovran voice, and clearly spake<br /> Of stormy - curses that should freeze my blood,<br /> Should I not wreak my father’s wrongful - death.<br /> He bade me pay them back the self-same deed<br /> Maddened by loss - of all: yea, mine own soul<br /> Should know much bitterness, were not this - done.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'> </span> - <em>... For one so slain<br /> Sees clearly, though his brows - in darkness move!—<br /> The darkling arrow of the dead, that flies<br /> From - kindred souls abominably slain ...<br /> Should harass and unman me ...</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'> </span> - <em>... I should have no share<br /> Of wine or dear libation, - but, unseen,<br /> My father’s wrath should drive me from all altars.</em><a - href='#f16' class='c011'><sup>[16]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>Thus the command of Apollo was clear, definite, and -imperative; and the oracular utterance carried with it -terrible penalties, should these two children of the murdered -king dare to disobey. Yet we feel, all through Orestes’ -speech, that the conflict is warring within him too. He -cannot accept the mandate implicitly. In the emphasis -that he lays on his authority, in the precise repetition of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>the very words of the oracle, in the horror with which he -enumerates the threatened punishments, we know that he -is trying to fortify himself against fear and horror at the -deed. Now that he comes close to his actual purpose, a -strange new questioning spirit arises which he strives to -appease—a shuddering reluctance which compels him to -throw himself back upon the divine mandate. “Was not -this a word to be obeyed?” he asks; and then, “Yea! -Were it not, the deed must yet be done.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>But struggle as Orestes may, the doubt will not be quelled. -The crime of mother-murder which they contemplate -starts up before them in all its hideous barbarity; and the -burden imposed on Orestes is more than he can bear. As -we know, it will lead him ultimately to madness. All -through the <em>kommos</em> which follows, a long and sublimely -mournful hymn chanted alternately by Orestes, Electra and -the Chorus, the brother and sister seem to be battling with -this question of the righteousness of their action. They -appeal to Zeus and to the powers of the nether world: -they cry to the spirit of their father: they remind each -other of the cruelty and shamelessness of Clytemnestra: -they recall the greatness of Agamemnon, and contrast it -with his ignominious end: they dwell upon the wrongs -done to Electra, and the sin of Egisthus, and the curse -upon their house. The wave of emotion rises and falls. -At one moment a solemn confidence reassures them that -the vengeance is righteous; at another, the doubt sweeps -back and shatters their assurance, and again they are -driven to bewail their wrongs and invoke the name of -Justice.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Ores.</span></span> - <em>Father, no word of mine, no deed may bring<br /> Light to the darkness where - thou liest below:</em><br /><span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span> <em>Yet shall the dirge lament thy matchless - woe,<br /> And grace the tomb of Argos’ noblest king....</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Elec.</span></span> - <em>Hear me, too, father, mourning in my turn;<br /> Both thine afflicted ones - towards thee yearn.<br /> Both outcasts, both sad suppliants at thy tomb.<br /> - What dawn may pierce this overwhelming gloom?...</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Ores.</span></span> - <em>Where is your power to save,<br /> Lords of the grave?<br /> Oh curse, of - endless might,<br /> From lips long lost to light,<br /> We, last of Atreus’ - race<br /> Implore thy dreadful grace,<br /> Reft of our halls, and outlawed - from our right,<br /> Zeus, whither should we turn?</em><a href='#f16' - class='c011'><sup>[16]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>At this point is felt most strongly the undercurrent of -doubt and horror. It brims and rushes, overwhelming for -a time the confident sense of justice and trust in the oracle -of the god. And here the Chorus, expressing, as its function -is, the brooding meditation of an onlooker, echoes their -inmost thought in sympathetic strains:</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Chor.</span></span> - <em>Again ye make my changeful heart to yearn,<br /> Listening your plaintive cry. - One while I feel<br /> My soul with dark misgivings shake and reel,<br /> But - by and by the clouds are rolled away<br /> And courage heightens with new hopes of - day.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Elec.</span></span> - <em>Oh mother! Oh enemy! Oh hard soul!<br /> Like a foe, unhonoured by funeral - bowl,<br /> Though a prince, unfollowed by mean or high,<br /> Thou didst bury - thy husband without one sigh.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Ores.</span></span> - <em>Ah! ah! every word there hath stung.<br /> But shall she not pay<br /> For - each shame she then flung<br /> On my sire?</em></p> - </div> - -<div id='ELECTRA' class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/i_145.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic001'> -<p>ELECTRA<br /><br /><em>Gertrude Demain Hammond R.I.</em></p> -</div> -</div> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Elec.</span><span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span></span> - <em>Thou hearest our father’s death; but I was driven<br />To grieve apart beneath the - dews of heaven;<br />Chased from the chambers like a thievish hound,<br />To pour my - grief in tears upon the ground,<br />They came more readily than smiles.... Write this in - thy soul ...</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Ores.</span></span> - <em>Father, assist thy children in their deed!</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Elec.</span></span> - <em>Thy daughter’s tears implore thee in deep need!...</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Ores.</span></span> - <em>The cause is set. The battle doth begin!</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Elec.</span></span> - <em>Oh gods, be just; and make the righteous win!</em><a href='#f16' - class='c011'><sup>[16]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>The resolution is taken at last. It remains now only to -ask their father’s blessing, before putting it into effect. -Orestes begs for power to rule well in Agamemnon’s stead, -and promises rich sacrifices to his shade.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Elec.</span></span> - <em>And I will bring<br />Choice offerings from all my patrimony<br - />In day of marriage, and will honour first<br />My father’s tomb from the paternal - hall....</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Ores.</span></span> - <em>Either send justice fighting on our side,<br />If thou wouldst gain requital for thy - fall,<br />Or grant us to catch them as they caught thee.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Elec.</span></span> - <em>Hear this last cry, my father! Look with pity<br />On these thy young ones sitting at - thy grave,<br />And feel for both, the maiden and the man.</em><a href='#f16' - class='c011'><sup>[16]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>The real crisis of the tragedy is in this wonderful ode, -although the action has all to follow. Doubts and fears -are now subdued: Orestes and Electra have risen to a -height of stern conviction which will carry them to the fulfilment -of their purpose, although neither it nor the sanction -of Apollo will save them from remorse. The action moves -rapidly now, as though the revenge must be accomplished -at once, in the heat of this terrible purpose. Orestes is -told of Clytemnestra’s dream—that she had borne a serpent -<span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>which had turned and rent her breast. He welcomes it -gladly, as an auspicious omen for him; and forms a hasty -plan of action. He and Pylades will apply for entrance -at the palace gates, with a feigned story of Orestes’ death. -Electra must make ready for them within, and secure -their admittance. They will kill Egisthus first, and -afterward complete the revenge by the murder of -Clytemnestra.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is not a very skilful plot, but it succeeds. Clytemnestra -receives Orestes and his friend, believing them to be -strangers from Phokis. She is grieved and shocked at their -story of Orestes’ death; and goes out to apprise Egisthus -of it. Presently Egisthus passes across the stage alone, on -his way to give an audience to the guests and, though he -does not know it, to pay the penalty for his crime. He -goes into the palace, and an instant afterward he is heard -to utter a dreadful cry. Attendants rush forth, calling -upon the name of the queen.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Clytem.</span></span> - <em>What cry is here? What dost thou by the gate?</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Atten.</span></span> - <em>I say, the dead have slain the living there.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Clytem.</span></span> - <em>Ay me! I read thy riddle! Oh! undone!<br />By guile, even as we slew! Give me an - axe,<br />A strong one; quickly too! I’ll dare the issue,<br />Be it for me or against - me! I am come<br />To the utterance in this fight with Fate and Doom.</em><a href='#f16' - class='c011'><sup>[16]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>Then there follows an awful scene between Orestes and -Clytemnestra, as she grieves over the body of Egisthus.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Ores.</span></span> - <em>Was he so dear to thee? Then thou shalt lie<br />In the same grave with blameless - constancy.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Clytem.</span></span> - <em>Oh son, forbear! O child, respect and pity<br />This breast, whereat thou often, - soothed to slumber,<br />Drainèdst with baby mouth the bounteous milk.</em><a href='#f16' - class='c011'><sup>[16]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>For an instant these poignant words make Orestes waver; -and he half turns to Pylades with an appeal for counsel. -But the answer is a stern reminder of the oracular command; -and the pitying moment passes.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Ores.</span></span> - <em>How should I live with her who killed my sire?</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Clytem.</span></span> - <em>The destinies wrought there. My son! my son!</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Ores.</span></span> - <em>Destiny works a different doom to-day....</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Clytem.</span></span> - <em>Oh! Wilt thou kill thy mother? O my son!</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Ores.</span></span> - <em>I kill thee not. Thy sin destroyeth thee....</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Clytem.</span></span> - <em>Ah!</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'> </span> - <em>I have borne and reared a serpent for my son.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Ores.</span></span> - <em>Then is fulfilled the terror of thy dream!</em><a href='#f16' style='text-decoration: - none; '><sup>[16]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>So Clytemnestra falls at the hands of Orestes; but the -vengeance has no joy for him. Before his mother’s mighty -spirit has taken its way along the road to Hades, a torture -of remorse has fallen upon her son. Even while he stands -above the murdered body, her avenging Furies come thronging -about him “with Gorgon faces and thick serpent hair” -and he feels his reason totter.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Ores.</span></span> - <em>Hear me declare:—How this will end I know not.<br />I feel the chariot of my spirit - borne<br />Far wide. My soul, like an ill-managed courser,<br />Is carrying me away, - while my poor heart<br />To her own music dances in wild fear.</em><a href='#f16' - class='c011'><sup>[16]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>He cries in anguish to Apollo to justify him; but there -comes no answer from the god; and faster and faster -crowd those grizzly spectre forms, rushing upon him in -hideous multitudes, and menacing him with ghastly torments. -And as the tragedy closes, we see Orestes fleeing -before the rout of the Furies to find sanctuary at the shrine -of Apollo, while the Chorus wails:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in18'><span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>“<em>When shall cease</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Dread, Atè’s fury? When be lulled to peace?</em>”<a href='#f16' class='c011'><sup>[16]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>We hear no more of Electra from Æschylus. Measured by -action, or even by language, the part she plays in his trilogy -is quite a small one. It is significant, too, that this her -first appearance in Attic Tragedy is not called by her name, -but the <cite>Libation-bearers</cite>. Such a title, while it serves to -remind us of a stage of Greek Drama when the Chorus was -the whole play, indicates also the poet’s conception of the -theme. To Æschylus, the religious act at Agamemnon’s -tomb, with all that it implies, was of much greater import -than the figure of the great king’s daughter. The force of -destiny, the amazing mandate of the god and its conflict -with filial love and duty, and the pursuit of the matricide -by the Furies, constitute for him the essence of the tragedy. -The spiritual aspect of the story transcends for him the -human interest of it. Hence his characters, though -sublimely great, are great in outline only; and hence the -brief appearance of Electra.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But when we find that Sophocles and Euripides, who wrote -about Electra afterward, have boldly made her the protagonist, -and have called their plays by her name, we are prepared -for a change of attitude. The story is now viewed -from a more human standpoint. The protagonist is no -longer a chorus, but a woman: the ruling passion is now -not so much a principle, a moral, a duty, or any idea in -the abstract; but strong human will, intense human love, -and mortal hatred. The motive of the Drama is no longer -a religious ceremonial, but the enactment of a tragic story. -And the final result is not now that of a grand moral lesson -conveyed through the lips of shadowy demi-gods, but a -really dramatic drama.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>It follows, therefore, that with this change the character -of Electra has taken on a stronger and more complete individuality. -In the version of Sophocles, she rises to her -greatest height. She is a creature who can endure to the -end and dare the uttermost: of absorbing love and -strenuous hatred: tender and strong. Unbending and -uncompromising, she is in conflict not only with the mother -whom she loathes, but with the weakness of a sister whom -she loves. Implacable to her enemies, she is capable of -absolute devotion to the memory of her father and to the -absent Orestes; and in these contrasted qualities Sophocles -has made of his Electra a tremendously dramatic figure. -For the finest drama, and for the most enthralling story -we must go to him. But his purpose seems to have been -merely artistic. He takes a hint from the old legend, and -developing its possibilities to the utmost he evolves a play -which is perhaps more powerful as drama and certainly more -perfect as art than that of Æschylus or Euripides. But it -has hardly any other significance. His conception of -Electra, while finely complete and harmonious, is of a being -untroubled by ethical considerations, and casting no fearful -glance ‘before and after.’</p> - -<p class='c000'>With Euripides, on the other hand, the character of the -protagonist becomes more deeply significant than even -Æschylus had made her. For Euripides, the mandate of -the god was false, and the vengeance taken was a stupendous -crime against humanity. When Orestes and Electra, -wrought up by passion, have accomplished it, Euripides -makes reaction come to them as to any other mortal being. -They are not pursued by visible Furies, from which they -may flee to the sanctuary of Apollo, but by remorse and -cankering doubt of their own motives. For him they are -<span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>simply human creatures; and the touch of realism, animated -as it is by a daring sceptical spirit, has laid a blight on -much that was beautiful in the earlier conception of -Electra’s character. To recover that, we must go back to -the <cite>Libation-bearers</cite> of Æschylus.</p> - -<hr class='c012' /> - -<div class='footnote' id='f16'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r16'>16</a>. </span>From Professor Lewis Campbell’s translation of the <cite>Choephorœ</cite> -(Clarendon Press).</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span> - <h2 class='c005'><em>Æschylus: Cassandra</em></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_4 c009'>For the beginning of Cassandra’s story we must go -back to the epic theme. The first word which -Homer tells of her is in the Thirteenth Book of -the <cite>Iliad</cite>, where she is called “the fairest of Priam’s -daughters.” But that is late in the Siege; and there is a -legend which gives her an earlier connection with the tale of -Troy. Indeed, we find that she was a link in the chain of -events which led Helen and the Greek army to her native city. -When she was still a young girl she had, in some mysterious -way, been beloved by the god Apollo. The god gave her -the gift of prophecy; but because she refused his love he -angrily confounded the gift that he could not recall by -decreeing that her prophetic utterances should never be -believed. This is the central point round which our thought -about Cassandra must revolve. She is the virgin priestess -who holds herself inviolate even from the embraces of a divine -lover; and she is an oracle of clear vision and stainless truth, -whose divination is cursed with futility.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The events of her career show blacker and more hideous -against the clear light of her spirit. All through the long -agony of the Trojan war we have a sense of Cassandra at the -altar, lifting pure hands in supplication for her dear city. -The fighting raged outside the walls like an angry sea, while -inside the town and away in the Greek encampment all the -passions let loose by war raged no less fiercely than the battle -itself. But Cassandra, withdrawn from sight and sound of -the conflict, continued to pray and sacrifice. Her life was -consecrated. And although the gods themselves seemed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>sometimes leagued against her; although she had a perception -of what the end must be, nothing could weaken her -endurance nor shake her will. The Trojan princes wooed -her in vain: the love of the great Sun-god himself could not -make her swerve. The glory of her beauty: her gift of -vision: her lofty impassioned soul, were vowed irrevocably -to the service of her country and her home.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Yet this idealist and mystic was destined to suffer the worst -brutalities of war in the hour of Troy’s destruction. She -was made captive at her own altar; and was carried away by -Agamemnon to be his slave-wife and the rival of his queen. -The mind revolts at the thought: it is too awful to contemplate, -and will not shape itself in cold reflection. The poets seem -to have felt this; and we find that Æschylus and Euripides, -who have both dwelt upon the story of Cassandra’s downfall, -rise to stormy heights of emotion when they tell about it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Euripides has placed Cassandra in the group of royal women -in his <cite>Troades</cite>. The time of the drama is the morning which -follows the overthrow of Troy; and the action represents -the carrying-off of the princesses by their captors. It is, one -would think, a time and a scene quite unfitted for dramatic -presentation. The immense excitement—of victory on the -one hand and defeat upon the other—has ebbed away; and -all that remains to the Trojan women is misery so profound -and hopeless as almost to be beyond the power of expression. -The measure of their pain seems to claim a reverent silence; -and we feel that the <cite>Troades</cite> does need the sanction of the -ethical purpose which Professor Murray has found in it. But -once we realize the deep and humane thought behind it: -that the poet has chosen this part of the story expressly to -reveal the hideous suffering which war entails upon women, -the tragedy is fraught with significance.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>The final act of Cassandra’s life is given by Æschylus in the -<cite>Agamemnon</cite>. He, no less than Euripides, feels the appalling -tragedy of her story; and both poets have put into her lips -lyrics of wild and haunting beauty. But Æschylus, by -removing the action to Mycenæ and by bringing Cassandra -into conflict with Clytemnestra, has wrought a climax of -extraordinary power.</p> - -<hr class='c010' /> - -<p class='c000'>If there be any truth in the legend, it was Cassandra who -first recognized the shepherd Paris for the son of Priam. -The stripling who descended from the glens of Mt. Ida to -compete in the games outside the city was unknown and -unloved by the Trojans whom he defeated. They were -jealous of the handsome stranger who carried off the prizes -from them; and he soon found himself embroiled with -Priam’s athletic sons. He was hard beset. The odds were -heavy against him; and like a hunted animal he flung himself -before the altar of Apollo for protection.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>And lo! Apollo’s priestess with a train</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of holy maidens came into that place,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And jar did she outshine the rest in grace,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>But in her eyes such dread was frozen then</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>As glares eternal from the gorgon’s face</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Wherewith Athene quells the ranks of men.</em><a id='r17' /><a href='#f17' class='c011'><sup>[17]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>It was of course Cassandra. She had never before seen this -young suppliant who was clinging to the altar; but as she -looked on him now there came upon her a revelation of his -identity. She knew of the old ring which had been placed -about her baby brother’s neck when he was exposed to death -upon the mountain; and taking Paris by the hand, she -touched the chain he wore and slowly drew to light the -talisman.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span><em>This sign Cassandra showed to Priam straight.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The king waxed pale and asked what this might be?</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And she made answer, “Sir, and King, thy fate</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>That comes on all men horn hath come on thee;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>This shepherd is thine own child verily.”</em><a href='#f17' class='c011'><sup>[17]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Here, then, is the real beginning of the story of Cassandra. -For the old king would not be warned against his fate. He -welcomed his boy as one returned from death. A great -festival was made in his honour; and of all the many sons of -Priam there was not one so dearly loved. Joy and merriment -filled the city. All the warning oracles which had spoken -at the birth of Paris were forgotten. Nothing but thanksgiving -was heard for the restoration of the fair young prince; -and amid it all, Cassandra knew that when she placed his -hand in the hand of Priam, Destiny had wrought for the fall -of Troy.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The years passed speedily at first, untouched by care; and -then more slowly, big with events. First the sailing of Paris. -Then, after Helen came back with him to Troy, an interval -when the Trojans waited, wondering how the Greeks would -repay the insult. Finally, the arrival of the Greek fleet and -the beginning of the Siege.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Priam was not unsupported in his long ordeal. Neighbouring -princes joined him against the hostile Greeks, some in the -hope of reward and some for the sake of friendship. There -was one warrior, Othryoneus, who came because he loved -Cassandra. He brought no ‘gifts of wooing,’ but made a -promise to the king “of a mighty deed, namely, that he -would drive perforce out of Troy-land the sons of the -Achaians.” Priam consented to his suit; but we are not -told what Cassandra thought of it. Probably she was not -consulted. It is conceivable, so tender was her love of home -<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>and country, that to reward the hero who would save them, -she would even consent to lay aside her holy office; to recall -her soaring spirit to dwell beside the hearth. But the eye -which saw so far knew that it need not consider the present -problem. Before the end, Cassandra saw the valiant man -who loved her lying pierced by the spear of Idomeneus.</p> - -<p class='c000'>That was toward the end of the war; and in the penultimate -scene of it, the bringing-in of Hector’s body, Cassandra -appears again. She had watched all that fearful night, when -the old king went out to the Greek camp to beg of Achilles -for the body of his great son. And in the cold light of dawn, -straining her eyes from Pergamos and weary with her vigil, -she was the first to see the mournful procession. “Then -beheld she him that lay upon the bier behind the mules, and -thereat she wailed and cried aloud throughout all the town.” -The people wakened at her terrible cry, and coming out of -their houses, they followed her down to the gate to meet the -unhappy king.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Hector’s death was the beginning of the end. Troy fell. -Its brave men were slaughtered, its palaces burnt, its altars -dishonoured; and worst of all, its women and children were -carried off as slaves. Of this the <cite>Iliad</cite> does not speak; but -it was an event which seized and held fast the imagination of -the Attic dramatists. The glory of war, which throws a -glamour over the fighting in the epic, gives place in the later -poets to the pain and horror of it. Not because they were -less brave: Æschylus fought at the great Greek victory of -Marathon; but because an advancing civilization had brought -a more reflective mind, a more humane temper, and the birth -of sacred pity.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The <cite>Troades</cite>, to which we come next for the story of -Cassandra, breathes throughout the pitiful spirit of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>poet Euripides. It relates what befell the women of the -royal household after the sack of the city. As grey daylight -comes we see the figure of the aged queen, prostrate -before the charred walls of the town. She rises feebly, -moaning in a bewilderment of grief and physical weakness. -To her approach, one after another, furtively, the -frightened Trojan women who form the Chorus of -the play. Her crying has wakened them, and they steal -out to try to discover what fate is in store for them. Even -while they ask, a messenger Talthybius, arrives from the -Greek ships. In curt phrases he replies to the queen’s -anguished inquiries about her daughters. They have been -assigned to certain of the Greek chiefs, he says: Andromache -to Neoptolemus, she herself to Odysseus, and Polyxena (he -speaks ambiguously, to hide a grimmer fact) to serve at the -tomb of Achilles. The stricken queen asks about each in turn.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Hecuba.</span></span> - <em>Say how Cassandra’s portion lies.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Talthybius.</span></span> - <em>Chosen from all for Agamemnon’s prize!</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Hecuba.</span></span> - <em>How, ...<br />The sainted of Apollo? And her own<br />Prize that God promisèd,<br - />Out of the golden clouds, her virgin crown?</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Talthybius.</span></span> - <em>He loved her for that same strange holiness.</em><a id='r18' /><a href='#f18' - class='c011'><sup>[18]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<div id='CASSANDRA' class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/i_159.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic001'> -<p>CASSANDRA<br /><br /><em>Solomon J. Solomon R.A.</em><br /><br /><em>By permission of the Artist</em></p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>Hecuba is appalled at this fate that is decreed for her child. -She whose pure spirit had always ranged beyond the things -of time and sense, who was the consecrated priestess of Apollo -and set apart for holy service, is condemned to be the slave-wife -of the man who has destroyed their city. The poor -mother wails in horror at the thought: it is too awful, too -sacrilegious a deed even for these proud Greeks, and she cries -out in protest. The herald silences her with a brutal comment -on the good fortune which makes her daughter the bride of -a king; and then orders an attendant to fetch Cassandra -from the tents. But there is no need for the man to go. Even -while they are speaking there comes a sudden flash of strange -fire, and the wild figure of Cassandra appears, robed in white, -garlanded with flowers and carrying a blazing torch. The -fearful events of the past night have driven her to a frenzy. -Arrayed as for a happy bridal, she comes singing a hymn to -Hymen; but the terror in her eyes, and the poignancy of the -words she utters hold her hearers dumb:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Hail, O Hymen red,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>O Torch that makest one!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Weepest thou, Mother mine own?</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Surely thy cheek is pale</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>With tears, tears that wail</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>For a land and a father dead.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>But I go garlanded:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I am the bride of Desire....</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>O mother, fill mine hair with happy flowers,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And speed me forth.... So liveth Loxias,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>A bloodier bride than ever Helen was</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Go I to Agamemnon, Lord most high</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of Hellas!... I shall kill him, mother! I</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Shall kill him, and lay waste his house with fire</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>As he laid ours. My brothers and my sire</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Shall win again!...</em>“<a href='#f18' class='c011'><sup>[18]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Her frenzy gives place now to a more meditative strain. It -is as though the fiery cloud that hung about her brain was -pierced for an instant by the sight of her grieving mother. -She tries to find words to comfort Hecuba; and as the calmer -mood deepens she rises to a perception of the dignity of high -failure contrasted with low success. The Trojans dying for -their homes she sees as a nobler thing than the triumph of the -Greeks.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>“<em>Would, ye be wise, ye Cities, fly from war!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Yet if war come, there is a crown in death</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>For her that striveth well and perisheth</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Unstained: to die in evil were the stain!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Therefore, O Mother, pity not thy slain,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Nor Troy, nor me, the bride. Thy direst foe</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And mine by this my wooing is brought low.</em>”<a href='#f18' class='c011'><sup>[18]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>At this point the herald is suddenly roused to reply. He -turns upon her furiously for her ominous forebodings and -bids her be silent. If he did not know her for a mad woman, -he says, she should suffer for boding thus evil to the Greeks. -He orders her roughly to follow him; but at his speech the -frenzy rushes over Cassandra again. She turns upon Talthybius -in magnificent anger and scorn. “How fierce a slave,” she -cries; and then the prophetic gift burns in her as she foretells -in language of awful beauty her own doom and that of -Agamemnon.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in30'>“<em>Thou Greek King,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Who deem’st thy fortune now so high a thing,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Thou dust of the earth, a lowlier bed I see,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>In darkness, not in light, awaiting thee;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And with thee, with thee ... there, where yawneth plain</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>A rift of the hills, raging with winter rain,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Dead ... and outcast ... and naked.... It is I</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Beside my bridegroom; and the wild beasts cry,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And ravin on God’s chosen!...</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Mother, farewell, and weep not! O my sweet</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>City, my earth-clad brethren, and thou great</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Sire that begat us; but a space, ye Dead,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And I am with you; yea, with crownèd head</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I come, and shining from the fires that feed</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>On these that slay us now, and all their seed.</em>“<a href='#f18' class='c011'><sup>[18]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>Cassandra is led away to the Greek ships, no blessing to the -toiling mariners. For even their own gods are wrath at the -crime against her; and many a heart-breaking struggle is in -store for them: many a noble ship will be lost, and many a -hero’s life will pay the penalty, before their homes are reached. -Perhaps to Agamemnon more than most, the Deities of the -Elements were kind. But then they knew the fate awaiting -him, and in ironic pleasure sped him to it. There is no need -to recall the details of his arrival at Mycenæ, or of his welcome -by Clytemnestra, almost distraught by conflicting hope and -fear. Agamemnon was weary of his voyage; weary, too, of -the long steep chariot-drive up from the sea. Yielding to his -wife’s entreaty to walk on costly crimson to the palace, he -turns for an instant to Cassandra’s chariot.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in22'>“<em>Receive, I pray thee</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>This stranger-woman kindly. Heaven still smiles,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>When power is used with gentleness. No mortal</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Is willingly a captive, but this maid,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of countless spoils the flower and crown, was given</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To me by the army, and attends me home.</em>”<a id='r19' /><a href='#f19' class='c011'><sup>[19]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The moment is crowded with emotion. For the briefest -space—merely long enough, in fact, to make the Trojan -woman formally known to Clytemnestra—these three strong -spirits face each other. Cassandra, wide-eyed and rigid, -looks beyond the king and queen, beyond the crowding people, -at <em>something</em> that her vision warns her is beyond the palace -doors. To Clytemnestra, her presence is an insult, and her -purity an intolerable reproach. There is one glance of -bitterness and hatred from the queen which Cassandra does -not see; and then the insolent king enters the palace, Clytemnestra -following him. She returns immediately, however, -lashed to a fury in which her dignity goes to shreds.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Cly.</span><span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span></span> - <em>In with thee too, Cassandra! Get thee in!<br />Since Heaven in mercy hath consigned - thee here<br />To share our household lustral waters, one<br />Of many slaves that stand - around our hearth.<br />Come from that carriage. Be not proud. Descend!</em></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>The speech is cruel; and it has, moreover, an inner meaning -which the poor captive perceives only too well. She does -not answer. She listens in silence, too, when the Chorus -address her; and when Clytemnestra, with that crucial -moment imminent, grows wild with impatience. “Sure she -is mad,” ejaculates the angry queen; “I’ll not demean -myself by throwing more words away.” Only when she has -gone does Cassandra break silence; and then by a wail which -the sympathetic Elders cannot understand.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Ai, Ai! O Apollo! Apollo!...</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Builder! Destroyer!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Builder of Troy! Destroyer of me!</em>“<a href='#f19' class='c011'><sup>[19]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The old men pity her, and try to calm her frenzy. She -looks round on them, as if awakening from a dream, and asks -what house is this. They reply that it is the Atridæ’s palace, -and the word calls up to Cassandra the long black record of -the house of Atreus.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Cass.</span></span> - <em>Ah! a hideous den, abhorred of Heaven,<br />Guilt-stained with strangled lives.... - Ah! faugh!</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Cho.</span></span> - <em>Her scent is keen, this stranger’s! Like a hound<br />She snuffs for blood. And she - will find, I doubt me.</em><a href='#f19' style='text-decoration: none; - '><sup>[19]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>In a long recital, Cassandra recounts the ancient crimes of -the Atridæ; and in dark oracular language moans that there -is worse behind. The old men are perplexed. They cannot -follow her meaning, though over and over again she struggles -to make clear the doom that is even now about to fall.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Cass.</span><span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span></span> - <em>Ah! what is this? Oh me!<br />What strange new grief is risen?<br />A deed of might - ...</em><br /> <em>An act<br />Of hate for love; and succour bides - aloof,<br />Far, far away.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Cho.</span></span> - <em>This prophecy is dark to me....</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Cass.</span></span> - ... <em>’Twill come,<br />‘Tis here! She lifts her hand; she - launches at him<br />Blow following blow!</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Cho.</span></span> - <em>Thy speech appals me.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Cass.</span></span> - <em>Woe! For my hapless doom!<br />To fill the cup, I tell my own sad tale!<br />Why hast - thou brought me to this place? Oh misery!<br />To die with thee? What else? To die!... To - die!...<br />Paris, thy wedding hath destroyed thy house,<br />Yea, and thy sister!—O - Scamander stream!<br />Our fathers drank of thee and by thy shore<br />I grew, I - flourished. Oh unhappy I!<br />But now by dark Cocytus and the banks<br />Of Acheron, my - prophecies shall sound.</em><a href='#f19' style='text-decoration: none; - '><sup>[19]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>The Elders begin to understand; but still the drift of her -message is only partly clear to them. They realize that she -is distraught, fearing some dreadful fate for herself; they -have, too, a glimmering fear of danger to the king. But they -cannot comprehend what it may be; and the thought of -succour never dawns upon their dull old wits. They speak -gently to Cassandra; but again her message seems to tear -her with its force and urgency.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>No longer, like a newly married girl,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>My word shall peep behind a veil, but, flashing</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>With panted vehemence to meet the day,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>‘Twill dash, against the shores of Light, a sorrow</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of mightier volume.</em>“<a href='#f19' class='c011'><sup>[19]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>Then, point by point, she goes with studied clarity over all -the “trail of long-past crime.” So long as this is her theme, -the Elders understand and confirm her words. But when, -rising again on the wings of prophecy and therefore to a -rapt and obscure utterance, she foretells the fall of -Agamemnon and her own death, they are again at sea. She -pauses for an instant, baffled; she knows that her end is -imminent, and in her despair she casts stinging words at them -for their stupidity and inaction. Never has Apollo’s ban -wrought so bitterly; and in the extremity of her anguish -she declares that she will call upon the god no longer. She -strips herself of the sacred emblems and flings them from her.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Why wear I still these mockeries of my soul,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>This wand, these fillets round my neck? I tear ye</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Thus! Go to your destruction ere I die!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To pieces with you! Lead the way! I follow!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Enrich some other life with misery....</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I will go forward! I will dare to die!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Hail, then, thou gate of Hell!</em>“<a href='#f19' class='c011'><sup>[19]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>She takes a few steps toward the palace; but her courage -fails for a moment. The reek of blood in her nostrils -stifles her, and she recoils. In her last words passion and -strength alike fade out, giving place to a pathetic human -appeal:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in22'>“<em>O strangers! friends!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I shrink not idly, like some timorous bird</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Before a bush! Bear record in that day</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>When I am dead....</em>“<a href='#f19' class='c011'><sup>[19]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>And the old men, as she passes slowly out of sight, wail -over her what is perhaps her most fitting epitaph:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span><em>Ah! what is mortal life? When prosperous,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>A shadow can o’erturn it; and, when fallen,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>A throw o’ the wet sponge blurs the picture out.</em></div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>This is more piteous than the ruin of pride.</span><a href='#f19' class='c011'><sup>[19]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class='c012' /> - -<div class='footnote' id='f17'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r17'>17</a>. </span>From Mr Andrew Lang’s <cite>Helen of Troy</cite> (G. Bell & Sons).</p> -</div> - -<div class='footnote' id='f18'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r18'>18</a>. </span>From Professor G. Murray’s translation of the <cite>Troades</cite> (George -Allen & Co. Ltd.).</p> -</div> - -<div class='footnote' id='f19'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r19'>19</a>. </span>From Professor Lewis Campbell’s translation of the <cite>Agamemnon</cite> -(Clarendon Press).</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span> - <h2 class='c005'><em>Æschylus: Io</em></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_4 c009'>We turn now from the Trojan legend to that -of Thebes. We are still in the realm of -Tragedy; and in some respects the Theban -story is more barbarous than that of Troy. -But by some means the tension is slightly relieved, and the -atmosphere is lightened by one degree. Perhaps that is because, -in the dramas which treat of this subject, the poets -seem to have gone back further into the remote past and to -have steeped themselves in the spirit of those early times. -Perhaps, too, it is on account of something wilder and more -primitive inherent in the Theban story itself. Such elements, -and such a treatment by the poets, would tend to remove -the persons of the drama a step further from probability, and -would make them to that extent greater or less than human. -Thus their appeal to the emotions would not be so direct, -nor so intimate. On the other hand, the figures so presented -gain in sublimity. Their mythical origin surrounds -them with a halo, through which they loom vast, mysterious, -and inaccessible.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Such a being is Io. In the <cite>Prometheus Bound</cite>, the drama -in which her story is given, Æschylus has gone back for his -subject literally to the beginning of things; to the time -when Zeus was young and the reign of Chaos was not long -overpast. We must be prepared then for a tale which in -its details is marvellous and incredible: for a <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">naïve</span> account -of the love of the supreme god for a mortal woman: of -the anger of Hera, his jealous queen: of the metamorphosis -and long wanderings of the innocent maid: and of her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>reward at last, when she becomes the ancestress of the -founder of Thebes, and ancestress too, in a remote generation, -of Heracles, the deliverer of Prometheus.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is here that we touch Io’s connexion with the Theban -legend, into which as a fact she does not otherwise enter. -For her son Epaphus, wondrously born at the touch of the -finger of Zeus, had two grandsons, Cadmus and Cilix; and -a granddaughter, Europa. The well-known legend tells -how Zeus, in the shape of a bull, carried off Europa. Whereupon -her two brothers went in search of their sister and -wandered many a long day. They did not recover her, -however, and at length gave up the search. Cilix settled -down in a country which was called Cilicia after him; and -Cadmus, instructed by the oracle at Delphi, followed a -straying cow into Bœotia. On the spot where the animal -should happen to lie down he was commanded to found his -city. But his task proved to be no light one. For there -was a dragon to be overcome; and a weird army, sprung -from the earth where the dragon’s teeth were sown, had to -be vanquished in battle before Cadmus could begin his -work of founding the city of Thebes.</p> - -<p class='c000'>This event, as we see, is only remotely connected with Io, -although the connexion is precise and clear. In point of -time, if chronology is the least use in such a case, it is -several generations nearer to us than she is. Yet we have -only to cast one glance at the story of Cadmus to see at -once its youthful element of marvel. Its wonders are so -crude as almost to raise a smile—the half amused, half tender -smile with which we turn over in our hand some grotesque -plaything of our childhood. It is indeed only the humorous -aspect of these old stories which seizes us when we look back -at them from a detached standpoint, and with minds bent -<span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>to the critical attitude. But that was not the poet’s -attitude; not, at least, when he was making poetry. -Doubtless there must have been moments when the Comic -Spirit rebelled, since even poets do not live alone by the -emotions. But when tragedy first entered life’s deep -waters its captains bound the mischievous laughing spirit -securely under hatches. It could be of no service in such -a stern battle with the elements.</p> - -<p class='c000'>So we find that the tragic poets (except perhaps Euripides -occasionally) treat these strange old stories in what is called -‘the grand manner.’ Do not be disturbed by something -stiff and formal in the expression. Like all definitions, it -is smaller and harder than the thing it tries to define. For -the poet has not the least intention of being ‘grand,’ and -is as far as possible removed from any conscious ‘manner.’ -On the contrary, it is true as a rule that the greater he is, -the simpler his thought and expression are. He comes to -these old themes with the eye and the heart of a child as -well as the brain of a great genius; and the spirit of poetry, -with all the knowledge of all the ages, utters its message -through his lips in limpid song. Matters of probability -and questions of logic, which seem so important to the -mere intellect, bow their chastened heads before him. The -whole scheme of values is changed, and that which appeared -to the arrogant intellect as wild and ludicrous is perceived -by the poet full of strange beauty and significance.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In this way Sophocles approached the Theban legend, as -we shall see when we come to Jocasta and Antigone, -presently. In this way, too, Æschylus gave us the story -of Io in his <cite>Prometheus Bound</cite>. Just when Io is supposed to -have lived we do not know. She is said to have been the -daughter of Inachus; and she was a priestess of Hera in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>Argos. But Æchylus has made her coeval with the Titans. -In this poem, therefore, she is a denizen of that early world -which saw the overthrow of Cronos from the throne of -heaven, and the rise of his son Zeus. All the Titans save -one had opposed the new god when he rose in rebellion -against the primeval powers. But Prometheus, far-seeing -from the first, and knowing that Zeus must conquer, lent -him aid. It was a long and bitter struggle in the youth of -the world. But at last Cronos and the Titans who had -opposed him were hurled by Zeus into Tartarus—“under -the misty darkness ... in a dank place, at the verge of -the earth.” Typhon was buried under Etna; and Atlas, -far in the West, was bowed beneath the pillar of the heavens, -“where night and day meet and greet one another, as they -pass the great threshold of bronze.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>All now seemed calm and fair for the establishment of the -new Hierarchy. Too calm and fair; for Zeus, with all his -enemies subdued and possessing absolute power, soon grew -tyrannical. With leisure now from Olympian warfare, he -looked down upon the earth and the feeble race of men. -It seemed to him a contemptible thing, struggling weakly -against pitiless forces and groping its way, by minute -degrees that were imperceptible from his lofty height, -toward a larger and a better state. It was a mean and -futile and impotent race, he pondered. Surely it would be -better to wipe it out of existence altogether, than let it -continue to blot the face of the fair world.</p> - -<p class='c000'>So concluded the youthful ruler of Olympus, in his haughty -strength. But Prometheus knew mankind better than Zeus. -The hills and valleys of earth were his kin, dear and familiar -to him; and he had come to love the imperfect human -soul that had just managed to get itself born in those rude -<span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>cave-men. He saw the violent act that the Lord of -Olympus was planning in his mind; and resolved to save -humanity. So, as the old poet Hesiod says in his <cite>Works -and Days</cite>, “he stole fire for men from Zeus the Counsellor -in a hollow fennel stalk, what time the Hurler of the -Thunder knew not.” But the boon to man meant sheer -disaster to himself, as he knew when he filched it from -Olympus. The purpose of Zeus could not be thwarted -with impunity. Prometheus was condemned to age-long -punishment, chained to a rock on an icy mountain top -until such time as a deliverer should come, and an immortal -being could be found willing to give up life for him. -The punishment of Prometheus is the subject of the present -drama. It is believed to have been the middle play of a -trilogy, of which the last was the <cite>Prometheus Unbound</cite>, and -the first probably related the bringing of fire to earth. -The <cite>Prometheus Bound</cite> is not dramatic in the sense that the -<cite>Agamemnon</cite> and the <cite>Choephorœ</cite> are. There is hardly any -action in it, for the suffering Titan continues chained to -his rock throughout the poem. From the nature of the -theme, too, the characters are too colossal and remote to -make an intimate appeal to us. Yet the drama is charged -with the deepest emotion, transcending the pity or fear of -common experience. If it does not start into life before our -eyes as an actual conflict, that is because it is rooted in a -deeper and more crucial struggle between cosmic forces. -And if the persons of the drama are unapproachable and -unfamiliar, it is from the very reason of their sublimity. -We see the protagonist first as he is being riveted to the -rocky wall by the god Hephæstus. The Fire-god reluctantly -performs the task, bidden to it roughly by Force, who is -invested for the moment with the strength of Zeus, but -<span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>without his dignity. Hephæstus is indignant at the sentence -on his kinsman, the titan, and declares that he has -no heart to chain him in this stormy mountain region, -merely because of his beneficent help to man. But Force -is inexorable: he urges on the work until every limb of the -titan is secured, and an adamantine wedge is driven through -his breast. When all is accomplished, Prometheus is left -alone; and then for the first time he breaks silence. He -invokes the elements that are his kindred: the sky, the -winds, the rivers, the smiling sea, the sun, the great earth-mother.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>See me tormented by the gods, a god!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Behold me, what agony</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Through the measureless course of the ages</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Racked, I shall suffer;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I by the upstart Ruler in heaven</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To captivity doomed and outrage.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Woe, woe is me!...</em></div> - <div class='line in12'><em>... Blessings, that on man</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I lavished, have involved me in this fate,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And for that in a hollow fennel stalk</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I sought and stored and stole the fount of flame,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Whence men all arts have learned, a potent help.</em>“<a href='#f1' class='c011'><sup>[1]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>While Prometheus is speaking, there gather softly round -him the gentle sea-nymphs who are to be the chorus of -the drama. They question him tenderly, in words that -fall like balm, and elicit all his story. It is pitiable, they -say, and they marvel at the penalty which Zeus imposes on -so kind a creature.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Presently Oceanus himself, god of the dreadful river that -circles the world, approaches in his chariot. He is old and -grave and prudent. The action of Prometheus seems to -him rash and daring: his opposition to Zeus mere pride. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>He advises the titan to yield, since it is expedient to bow to -the superior power. But Prometheus fiercely rejects such -timid counsel. Nothing shall shake his resistance to the -tyrant, and Oceanus may spare his breath. Let him go -save himself: as for Prometheus, he will endure until it -shall please Zeus to relent.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Hot words pass. Oceanus tries in vain to teach prudence -to the high heart of the titan, and departs angrily. Then -the sea-nymphs sing a sweet song of pity; and Prometheus, -touched to a softer mood, begs them not to think him hard -and proud. Only, the thought of his wrongs is intolerable, -received at the hand of one whom he himself had helped -to place upon the throne of Olympus. And what had been -his crime? None. His hands are clean: his integrity -absolute. His sufferings are an amazing injustice: the -price of beneficent deeds to humanity that he tells over to -the wondering maids.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>I will recount you, how, mere babes before,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>With reason I endowed them and with mind ...</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Who, firstly, seeing, knew not what they saw,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And hearing did not hear; confusedly passed</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Their life-days, lingeringly, like shapes in dreams,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Without an aim; and neither sunward homes,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Brick-woven, nor skill of carpentry, they knew;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>But lived, like small ants shaken with a breath,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>In sunless caves a burrowing buried life:</em></div> - <div class='line in24'><em>... The hidden lore</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of rising stars and setting I unveiled.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I taught them Number, first of sciences;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I framed the written symbols into speech,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Art all-recording, mother of the Muse:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I first put harness on dumb patient beasts ...</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>That they might lighten men of heavy toil,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I taught to draw the car and love the rein</em></div> - <div class='line'><em><span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>Horses, crown of the luxury of wealth.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And who but I invented the white-winged</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Sea-roving chariot of the mariner?</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>For mortals such contrivances I found,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>But for myself alas no wit have I,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Whereby to rid me of my present pain.</em>”<a id='r20' /><a href='#f20' class='c011'><sup>[20]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>So he continues to narrate all that he had achieved for the -welfare of man: how he had taught him Medicine, -Prophecy and Augury; and had brought to light the -treasure of precious metals that lay hidden within the -earth. Indeed, as the long recital falls from his lips, we -know that the poet has symbolized in him all the great -civilizing influences on mankind.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But the sea-nymphs, though they sympathize with his -sorrow, cannot rise to the height of his thought. To them -mankind is a “fleeting, dream-like race,” unworthy of the -sacrifice that he has made. They chide him gently. Why -has he dared the wrath of Zeus, and why will he bear the -weary ages of torture for such a people? The beauty of -the lyric casts a spell upon us. The thought of the long-drawn -agony, endured from century to century, makes us -waver. Might he not have been misguided? Was Zeus -right, perhaps? And would not the titan be wise to make -peace with so powerful a ruler?</p> - -<p class='c000'>Thus the softer mood of the sea-maidens wins upon us. -Viewed through it, the resistance of Prometheus begins to -look like stubborn self-will; and the decree of Zeus a -righteous chastisement. But just as the feeling is gathering -strength an episode occurs which reverses the current of -emotion. For there rushes suddenly on the desolate scene -a strange wild creature, half woman and half beast. Under -the curling heifer’s horns there is a fair white brow; and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>below the brow sweet human eyes, distraught with fear -and pain. This is Io, the maid beloved by Zeus. Cast -out of her home by the god’s command, she has been chased -from the society of her kind, and her fair woman form has -been partly changed to bestial shape. For many a weary -league she has been goaded onward by the gadfly of Hera; -and even now she is haunted by the wraith of Argus, the -huntsman of the hundred eyes whom the angry goddess -had set to watch her. Good and beautiful she had been, -her serene life gladly given to the service of Hera in an -Argive temple. Yet now she is doomed to wander restlessly -over sea and land, through sun and storm, and by -many an unknown lonely path, without apparent aim and -for no apparent cause. As her feet stumble up the mountain -side and she stands before Prometheus, innocent and -mercilessly persecuted, we feel that the moment is crowded -with all the elements of tragedy. If we had wavered before, -standing on that ridge of neutral ground where the cool -airs of reason calm the passions; if the poet meant that we -should waver for a moment, giving us in his unifying purpose -some perception of the higher power as it would -ultimately justify itself; he plunges us now into the arena -again, with every emotion clamant to defend these victims -of tyranny.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As they confront each other, Io speaks, forgetting her own -griefs for the moment in contemplation of the suffering -titan.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>What land, what people is here?</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Whom shall I say that I see,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Rock-pinioned yonder,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Storm-buffeted?</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To penance of a living death</em></div> - <div class='line'><em><span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>What crime hath doomed thee?</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Tell me, thou luckless one,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Where have I wandered?</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Ah me, alas, unhappy!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Frenzied again as by the gadfly’s sting,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The fatal herdsman with the myriad eyes,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The giant Argus, I behold ...</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Me he pursues, the unhappy,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Over sandy leagues of the waste seashore....</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Whither alas, ah woe is me</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>When shall my wandering end?</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>What, O what was the sin in me,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>O son of Cronos, that thou didst find?</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Why hast thou doomed me thus to suffer</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>By the gadfly’s goad still onward driven,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Weary of fleeing, distraught with dread?...</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Enough I have wandered—</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Wandered afar till my strength is spent;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And still from my doom escape is none.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Dost thou mark my speech?</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The hornèd maiden hearest thou?</em>“<a href='#f20' class='c011'><sup>[20]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Prometheus does indeed hear and know her, he says, the poor -frenzied daughter of Inachus, whom Zeus loves. As he -speaks her father’s name, Io catches at it eagerly. Perhaps -this may be a friend.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Io.</span></span> - <em>Who told thee of my sire?<br />Tell me, the sufferer—who art thou,<br />That thou - hast named aright<br />One wretched as thyself?...</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Prom.</span></span> - <em>This is Prometheus, who gave fire to men.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Io.</span></span> - <em>Of all our human kind, proved helper thou,<br />Ill-starred Prometheus—what hath - earned thee this?</em><a href='#f20' class='c011'><sup>[20]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>In rapid interchange of question and answer, the cause of -the quarrel, and its consequence, are related to Io; and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>then, because she knows that Prometheus can foresee the -future, she begs him to tell her what is in store for herself. -The titan warns her that the knowledge can only bring -fresh pain; and for awhile the prophecy is delayed, as Io, -at the petition of the nymphs, tells her own strange story.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Io.</span></span> - <em>Your will is law to me; I must obey.<br /> ... Albeit I blush to tell.<br - />Haunting my virgin chamber, night by night,<br />Came visions to beguile me while I - slept<br />With fair smooth words: “O maiden highly blest,<br />Be maiden now no more; to - whom ‘tis given<br />To mate thee with the Highest; thy beauty’s shaft<br />Glows in the - heart of Zeus, and for his bride<br />He claims thee.”</em><a href='#f20' - class='c011'><sup>[20]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>Her father Inachus sent anxious messages to the oracles at -Delphi and Dodona to inquire what this persistent vision -might mean. At first ambiguous answers came.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>But at the last to Inachus there came</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>A peremptory word, with mandate clear,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To cast me from my country and my home,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>At the world’s end a wanderer far from men;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And, if he would not, swift from Zeus should come</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>A fiery bolt that should consume his race.</em><a href='#f20' class='c011'><sup>[20]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>With sorrowful heart, Inachus obeyed the oracular command, -constrained thereto by Zeus. Io was driven out to -the pastures of her father’s herds.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Then was my feature changed, my reason fled:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Wearing these horns ye see, with frenzied hounds,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Pricked and tormented by the gadfly’s sting,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To fair Kerchneia’s stream and Lerna’s shore</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I hasted. And upon my traces still,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of rage unslaked, with myriad eyes agaze,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The earth-born huntsman Argus followed hard.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Him unawares a sudden death o’ertook,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em><span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>And reft him of his life. From land to land,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Heaven’s scourge, the unsleeping gadfly, drives me still.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>My tale is told. What time has yet in store</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>For me to suffer, tell me if thou canst:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Not pitying think with lies to comfort me:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>False words I count of maladies the worst.</em><a href='#f20' class='c011'><sup>[20]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Io is asking more than she knows, and the prophecy that -Prometheus will make to her is more wonderful than she -could ever dream. In careful detail, and so impressively -that she must remember every word, he indicates the first -part of her wanderings. She must turn her face eastward, -and faring through Scythia, pass along the sea-coast, -avoiding the fierce Chalybes. Then on wearily to the range -of the Caucasus, which she must ascend to the very summit; -and following afterward a southward road, she will come to -the land of the Amazons and down to the sea which separates -the continents. Here she must boldly ford the strait, -which in later times will be called Bosphorus because she, -the cow-maiden, crossed it; and leaving Europe behind, -she will tread on Asian soil.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Prom.</span></span> - <em>... Deem ye not<br />That this proud lord of heaven on great and - small<br />Tramples alike? For this poor mortal maid,<br />Enamoured of her love, his - godhead dooms<br />To wander thus. Thy most imperious wooer,<br />Maiden, thou well mayst - rue. What I have told,<br />Deem that the prelude hardly hast thou heard.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Io.</span></span> - <em>Woe’s me, alas, alas!...<br />What boots it then to live? Were it not better<br - />From this hard rock to fling myself outright,<br />That dashed to earth I might of all - my toil<br />Have riddance? Better surely once to die.<br />Than all my days to be - afflicted thus.</em><a href='#f20' class='c011'><sup>[20]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>But Prometheus, looking further still into the future, sees -some hope for her, as he contrasts her fate with his. However -great her affliction, it must end some day; he can -even foretell just what the issue will be, and when. But for -him, suffering must continue until Zeus is hurled from his -throne.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Io.</span></span> - <em>Shall Zeus indeed be downcast from his throne?</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Prom.</span></span> - <em>To see that day methinks thou wouldst rejoice.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Io.</span></span> - <em>How could I but rejoice, whom he has wronged?</em><a href='#f20' - class='c011'><sup>[20]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>She begs for a revelation of the fate of Zeus; and the titan -tells briefly of a certain marriage that the god is contemplating, -which must bring him ruin if Prometheus will not -interpose.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Io.</span></span> - <em>Who then shall loose thee in despite of Zeus?</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Prom.</span></span> - <em>One of thine own descendants he shall be.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Io.</span></span> - <em>How? shall a child of mine deliver thee?</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Prom.</span></span> - <em>Ten generations hence, and three beside.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Io.</span></span> - <em>Now hard to read the prophecy becomes.</em><a href='#f20' style='text-decoration: - none; '><sup>[20]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>Io’s mind cannot take so great a leap forward; and -Prometheus, resuming the course of her wanderings in -Asia, gradually leads up to the climax of her story. Having -crossed the strait, she is again to bend her steps eastward. -Through the land of the Gorgons she must go, and of the -Griffins, and of Phorcy’s daughters, the three hags with -one eye and one tooth between them. On the golden shores -of Pluto she will see an army of one-eyed horsemen, whom -she must carefully avoid; and toiling onward still, she -must follow the course of the river Ethiopia far up to its -very source. Then, at Canopus, a town upon the shores of -distant Nile, she will find rest.</p> - -<p class='c000'>So is completed the tale of Io’s wanderings. And now, -before Prometheus reveals the strangest thing of all, he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>would convince her that he is speaking truth indeed. So -he recalls to her mind a marvel that had happened on her -way thither, but which she had not spoken when she related -her story.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Prom.</span></span> - <em>To the Molossian plains when thou hadst come,...<br />And to Dodona’s rock-ridge, to - the seat<br />And sacred oracle of Thesprotian Zeus,<br />Famed for its marvel of the - talking oaks,<br />That with clear voice and nowise doubtfully<br />Hailed thee (sounds - this familiar to thine ears?)<br />The glorious bride of Zeus in days to come.</em><a - href='#f20' class='c011'><sup>[20]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>The weird music of the oaks came back to her as the titan -spoke, phrased intelligibly now. It had haunted all her -journey, but confusedly, hinting at something she could -not clearly understand, and dared not name. But in the -words of Prometheus its meaning pealed. Becoming in -that far Eastern country the bride of the ruler of Olympus, -she would found a splendid race. From her the Danaans -would spring, one root of that Hellenic people which should -civilize the Western world. She would give a line of kings -to the Argive throne. But greater and more blessed than -all, from her should come the supreme Greek hero Heracles, -destined to release this suffering titan from his misery.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As she muses on the wonder of it, Prometheus takes up -again the thread of his prophecy. In that rich land which -borders on the Nile she may at last stay her weary feet.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>There shall the hand of Zeus, with soft caress</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Upon thee laid, restore thee to thy mind:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And thou shalt bear, named of his fruitful touch,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>A son, swart Epaphus, whom all that land,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>By the broad Nile-stream watered, shall enrich....</em>“<a href='#f20' class='c011'><sup>[20]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>From Io’s son Epaphus should descend, generations afterward, -a princess.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>“<em>’The royal line of Argos springs from her.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Time fails to tell the story to its close:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>But of her strain one valiant shall be born,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And famous with the bow; he from these ills</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Shall loose me.’ Thus the titaness, my mother,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Primeval Themis, prophesied to me,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>But of the ways and means too long it were</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To tell thee, and it profits not to know.</em>“<a href='#f20' class='c011'><sup>[20]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>To immortal eyes, seeing the end in the beginning, it was -a glorious destiny; one to compensate perhaps, if not to -justify, all that she had endured. But Io is only a mortal -maid. The vision of the future opens before her in one -radiant moment, and then all is dark again, and nothing -remains but her inexplicable pain. Even before Prometheus -has finished speaking the cloud had fallen upon her mind -again.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Alas! Woe worth the day!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Again a thrill, a spasm of frenzy</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Shoots through me, soul-distracting:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The unforged goad of the gadfly</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Stings me afresh; and my seated heart</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Knocks at my ribs for fear,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>My sight swims, and my senses reel;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And a frantic gust of madness sweeps me</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Wide of the course....</em>”<a href='#f20' class='c011'><sup>[20]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Tormented and distracted, she rushes from the scene as -wildly as she had come; but as the titan and the sea-nymphs -sadly watch her go, they see that her face is set now toward -the East.</p> - -<hr class='c012' /> - -<div class='footnote' id='f20'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r20'>20</a>. </span>From Mr Robert Whitelaw’s translation of the <cite>Prometheus</cite> -(Clarendon Press, 1s. net).</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span> - <h2 class='c005'><em>Sophocles: Jocasta</em></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_4 c009'>Jocasta, in <cite>Œdipus the King</cite> of Sophocles, is a -very real woman. Moreover, though she is a -splendidly dramatic figure, she is not heroic in -anything save her death. True, she is a queen, -deriving royalty through several generations from Cadmus -himself; and possessing the throne of Thebes so surely that -when the king her husband died she had perforce to marry -with his successor in order to establish him in the kingship. -But despite her special royalty, which makes her, as Professor -Murray has pointed out, like one of the consecrated queens -of early times: despite the extreme deference which is -paid to her, the weight that attaches to her counsel, and -the sense of brooding fate that clings about her, she is -before all an appealing and convincing human creature.</p> - -<p class='c000'>This vivid reality is a new fact in our study of Greek heroines, -and the reason for it is that we have come now to the -Drama of Sophocles. We have seen, so far, the women -of Homer and those of Æschylus; and we have observed -one or two characteristics which distinguish them.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Homeric women are gracious and beautiful, glowing as -it were with romantic charm. With one notable exception, -Penelope, they appear rarely in the movement of the epic; -and then only to form the central figure in a picturesque -group. Reality has never touched them. Generous as -their emotions are, the extremes of passion have not for an -instant distorted their loveliness. When they are called -upon to act, they seem always to move with grace and -gentleness; and even in their sorrow they are serene. If -<span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>they share in the great stern things of life, its aspiration and -its struggle, they give no sign of the penalty exacted. They -are always young, fresh and fair; except again Penelope, -and she has only gained from age, not lost. A wise maturity -has been added to her early charms. And thus these -Homeric women, with their delicate <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">infrangible</span> bloom, -seem to belong to a region just over the boundary-line of -our common humanity.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The women of Æschylus are much greater figures. Clytemnestra -is colossal: Cassandra, Electra and Io are all -conceived majestically. Unlike the Epic women, they are -capable of strenuous action: strong passions sway them, -and they are much concerned with the great issues of life. -We know little or nothing about their appearance, and it -does not seem to matter. They do not live in our mental -vision pictorially, in soft, warm tints; but remotely grand, -they appeal to a more austere sense of wonder, awe and -reverence. Surrounded by an atmosphere of myth, and -sharing in the elevation of the poet’s spirit, they seem to -be creatures of an older and a bigger world.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There is indeed one woman in the Æschylean Drama, -Orestes’ nurse, who is of ordinary stature and might belong -to any age. But she is of minor importance in the story, -and does not move on the heroic plane. She is therefore -beyond the range of that sublimating power of the poetic -spirit which magnified the heroes and heroines to immense -proportions. And as she stands in the clear daylight outside -the enchanted circle she is just an old grey woman -taken straight out of common life. But for that very reason -there is a hearty, homely breath about her which is very -refreshing. She is but a nurse: she is quaint and querulous -in her talk, inept, wordy and reminiscent; and peevishly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>loyal. Yet in her very weakness and foolishness she is -precious, for is she not a flash from the eyes of the Comic -Spirit, naïvely unconscious of its august surroundings? We -feel that we can actually see and hear her, as she gabbles -about Orestes’ babyhood and how she tended him; being -nurse, cook, foster-mother and washerwoman all combined. -But she is unique among Æschylean women, and when we -turn to look again on the figures of his heroines, a thought -is suggested by the extreme contrast. Here is creative -genius so strong that it has evoked on the one hand the -grandeur of a Clytemnestra; and on the other, the biting -reality of this old slave. But there does not seem to have -been an equivalent artistic power which, controlling the -fervid idealism and combining it with his keen insight, -would have produced types more fully and completely -human.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Such types we find first when we come to the Drama of -Sophocles. With Æschylus the ruling passion had been -spiritual fervour. In Sophocles the artist reigned paramount. -All the advance which his drama made, in plot, -incident and character-building, was in the direction of a -more perfect art. And although there was some inevitable -loss—as for instance the curtailment of the lyrics by -modifying the part of the Chorus; and their lower poetic -flight—on the whole the gain is very great. In the matter -of characterization, with which we are chiefly concerned, -the change is one which brings us out of the region of demi-gods -into the world of men and women.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When we say that the persons of Sophocles’s drama are real -people, that is not to say that they are ‘realistic’ in the -narrow sense of the word which conveys only what is average -and actual. But it does mean that with all their splendour -<span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>and dignity and fine achievement they are subject to our -common humanity. They are not immune from the -defects of their virtues. The passions which have led them -to great deeds are potent agents of their downfall. It is -the flaw within which helps to betray them.</p> - -<p class='c000'>For this reason, and also because the poet shows his -characters moving in intimate human relationships, the -women of Sophocles are intensely living creatures. Electra -in her conflict with Chrysothomis, and Antigone with -Ismene, are of the stuff of life; and the situations thus -created are pure drama. Here two great natures clash. -Closely bound by the ties of blood and affection, but at the -opposite poles of temperament, the struggle between them -is all the more bitter from the intimacy of their relationship. -Both claim our esteem and both are sincerely confident -in the purity of their intentions. But each mistrusts -the other, believing her to be fatally misguided or wilfully -blind. It is by this faculty of seeing all sides of an issue, -or, as Matthew Arnold expressed it, “to see life steadily -and see it whole,” that Sophocles has heightened and -deepened the dramatic values of a story. Out of that, too, -he has made Jocasta, with all her state and despite the -unnatural horror with which she is touched, a pitiable -figure.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Here again two noble natures, near and very dear to each -other, are brought into conflict. In this case, however, -there is an added element of tragic irony which increases -the dramatic power threefold. For we know, as we watch -the tender comradeship of Œdipus and Jocasta, that there -is this sinister thing in the background, ready to flame out -at any instant and make them loathsome in each other’s -eyes. And the moment when the shameful truth is -<span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>revealed, literally dragged to light by Œdipus to his own -undoing, is perhaps the most awful in Greek tragedy.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The story belongs to the Theban cycle, of which we have -already heard. It is older than Homer, who calls Jocasta -<cite>Epicasta</cite>; and it had many variants. In the Eleventh -Book of the <cite>Odyssey</cite> there is the quaint epitome of it -which the hero gives when he is describing his visit to the -World of the Dead. Among the shades which throng -there he sees Jocasta.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>And then beheld I Epicasta fair,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Oedipus’ mother, her who unaware</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Did a strange deed through ignorance of mind,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To intermarry with the son she bare.</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>And he his mother wedded, having slain</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>His father: and these things the Gods made plain</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To all men suddenly; then he among</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The folk Cadmean held a troublous reign,</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>In lovely Thebes, according to the fate</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>By purpose of the Gods predestinate</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>For evil: but she went her way alone</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To the strong Warder of the darkling gate.</em>“<a id='r21' /><a href='#f21' class='c011'><sup>[21]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>This version agrees in the main with that of Sophocles, and -points to the antiquity of the story. Even in those early -times the fate of Jocasta and Œdipus was part of an ancient -myth. Like the story of Io, remote ancestress of the -founder of their city, it is a tale of wrong wrought upon -mortals by a god. Perhaps it is not so primitive as the Io -legend. There is nothing in it quite so <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">naïve</span> as the idea -of the heifer-maiden loved by the supreme god and mercilessly -hunted by his jealous queen. The Olympian hierarchy -is now established, with its system of greater and lesser -gods, and Zeus at their head has grown, in accordance with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>the theory of Æschylus, wiser with age. Apollo is now the -persecutor. And with the development in the divine order -goes a corresponding complexity in the human elements of -the story. The actors in it are the instruments of their -own suffering. The inimical power is not now frank -tyranny. Its victims even believe it to be friendly, or at -least placable; and it is by their own deeds that the decree -against them is brought to pass. Yet this apparent advance -still leaves the story in a dark past, far behind the poets. -And there are some aspects of it—the curse fulfilled by -Œdipus of parricide and incest; and the stark unreason -with which it was regarded—which make us feel that the -primitive age has only just given place to one of gross -superstition.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The essence of the tragedy lies in the double fact of Apollo’s -hostility to Œdipus and Jocasta and their ignorance of it. -When Laius and Jocasta were young upon the throne of -Thebes they prayed to Apollo to give them a son. The -oracle at Delphi replied to Laius, “I will give thee a son, -but it is doomed that thou leave the sunlight by the hands -of thy child.” Thus the decree was launched.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Laius and Jocasta trembled at the doom, and considered -how it might be averted. When their son was born, they -took a cruel and desperate means to save its father’s life. -Three days after his birth they handed over the babe to a -herdsman, to be exposed on Mt. Kithairon. And first they -pierced his heels, to ensure his death. So Jocasta, out of -love for her husband and fear of the oracle, brought herself -to a deed which poisoned all her life. Yet it was of no avail -against fate. For the man who took her babe had pity on -it; and meeting a friendly herdsman who was in the service -of Polybus, king of Corinth, he gave the child to him. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>Polybus and his queen Merope were childless; and the -herdsman believed that they would welcome the little -foundling. He was not mistaken: calling him Œdipus -from his swelled feet, they brought him up as their son.</p> - -<p class='c000'>All went well until the boy had grown into manhood. -Then one day a young companion, heated with wine, flung -out a taunt about his birth. Œdipus, fully believing himself -to be the son of Polybus and Merope, went to them with -the story. They chastised the offender, but their replies -to Œdipus’ questions left a doubt of his parentage rankling -in his mind. He determined to satisfy himself once for all -by an appeal to Apollo; and he travelled to Delphi to -inquire of the oracle in person. The reply was terrible, -and, unlike most oracular utterances, seemed only too clear. -He was doomed, it said, to slay his father and marry with his -mother. But the most vital point, the names of his parents, -was not revealed; and Œdipus, still believing them to be -Polybus and Merope, vowed never again to set foot in -Corinth while they were living. So he hoped to avoid his -doom; and he set out alone, along the road to Bœotia, and -Thebes.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Now it happened that just about that time Thebes was -afflicted by a strange monster. It was the Sphinx, sent by -Hera to prey upon the city. Sitting upon a neighbouring -hill, she claimed the life of every man who could not read -her riddle—“What is the creature which is two-footed, -three-footed and four-footed; and weakest when it has -most feet?” No one could find the answer; and Thebes -daily paid the toll of life to the monster. The people were -in despair, when Laius the king set out to seek counsel at -Delphi. Thus the unknown father and son were hourly -approaching each other from east and west. Laius was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>accompanied by only four attendants. When his party -came to a narrow pass in Phokis, at a place where three -roads met, a young man appeared in the path before them. -The slaves of Laius were insolent, and the young man’s -blood was hot. A quarrel ensued. Three of the attendants -were struck down; and Laius himself, aiming at the stranger -from his chariot, was killed by a single blow. Œdipus had -unwittingly slain his father; and the first part of the curse -had fallen.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The fourth attendant of Laius, the very man who had -given away Jocasta’s babe years before to the Corinthian -herdsman, fled for his life. Arrived at Thebes, he reported -the death of the king. But he feared to tell the whole -truth: he dared not admit that he and his fellows had been -overcome by one man; and he gave out that Laius had -been slain by a band of robbers.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Meantime, Œdipus continued his wanderings; and some -time afterward he came to Thebes. He found the city still -harassed by the Sphinx, who seized her victims daily from -among the Theban people. He learned too that their king -had been killed by robbers whilst on a journey; and that -the old prophet Tiresias, who should have been able to -advise the people at such a crisis, was helpless. The young -stranger seized his opportunity. He faced the Sphinx and -solved her riddle, triumphantly naming the creature of her -question to be Man. Whereupon she flung herself down -from the hill on which she was stationed; and the people -of Thebes at last had rest from their tormentor. They -hailed Œdipus with joy; and in their gratitude they -named him king in succession to Laius.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But the new king could not put aside the queen who already -occupied the throne. Indeed, by a custom of those old -<span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>times, he could not rightly become the king unless she -married him. He had proved himself to the Theban people -brave and wise, a ruler to be desired. Consideration for her -people inclined Jocasta to him, and besides, he seemed to -her just and kind. But more than all, there hung about -him, in his carriage or his manner, something which brought -a fleeting memory of Laius, and warmed her heart to him. -So she consented that he should be her husband.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The curse on Œdipus was now complete. In perfect -innocence, and though he had striven to keep his hands -clean from the horror, he had slain his father and married -with his mother. Yet no shadow of the truth fell on him. -There were in Thebes two persons to whom it was known, -or partly known. One was that slave born in Laius’s household -who had given the infant prince to the herdsman -from Corinth; and who had fled for his life when his -master was killed at the cross-roads in Phokis. The other -was the blind old prophet Tiresias. But neither spoke of -what they knew. The slave kept silence from loyalty; and -coming to the queen soon after her marriage, he besought -her earnestly to send him back to serve in outland parts. -Tiresias was merely prudent; and thought it best to bide -the time of the god.</p> - -<p class='c000'>For many years no sign came. Jocasta and Œdipus, loving -each other and beloved by their people, reigned happily in -Thebes; Creon, Jocasta’s brother, sharing equally in the -honour which was paid to them. Four children were born -to the king and queen: two sons, named Eteocles and -Polynices; and two daughters, Antigone and Ismene. -Life flowed so smoothly now that painful memories grew -faint. Œdipus had almost forgotten the menace that rang -in his ears at Delphi twelve years before; and Jocasta, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>though she would never forget that early act of cruelty, -was not haunted so persistently now by the thought of her -first-born. It seemed almost that Apollo had relented; -that having fulfilled the letter of the doom, he had taken -pity on the victims, and would leave them in happy -ignorance. But he, too, was only waiting for a fitting -moment—till Thebes should be most flourishing and -Œdipus should have reached the top of fame. Then the -blow fell. A sudden plague was sent upon the city, which -ravaged all life like a blight. Flocks sickened; the harvest -failed; and human creatures died in thousands, while -Œdipus looked on, sore at heart for their misery, but powerless -to help.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At this point of the story, Sophocles has opened the -<cite>Œdipus, King of Thebes</cite>. The scene is before the royal -palace, where a crowd of suppliants has gathered to implore -the aid of the king. Œdipus comes out in person to receive -them, and listens patiently while the old priest petitions -him on their behalf. They have pathetic faith in him. -There can be no doubt that he has power to succour them, -for did he not of old save Thebes from the Sphinx? -Perhaps too there is a touch of deeper meaning in their act, -a hint of that duty laid on early kings, to die for their -people in case of need. They come to lay on him the -burden of the whole land’s sorrow. Œdipus answers them -pityingly.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>My poor, poor children! Surely long ago</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I have read your trouble. Stricken, well I know,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Ye all are, stricken sore: yet verily</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Not one so stricken to the heart as I.</em>“<a id='r22' /><a href='#f22' class='c011'><sup>[22]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div id='JOCASTA' class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/i_193.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic001'> -<p>JOCASTA<br /><br /><em>Gertrude Demain Hammond, R.I.</em></p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>There has appeared to him only one hope; and days before -he had grasped at it. He had sent Creon to Apollo’s -House in Delphi, to inquire of the god what great thing -the king must do to save his people. When the answer -comes, he vows that he will not flinch. Whatever task -Apollo may command, no matter how bitter, it shall be -performed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Even while Œdipus speaks shouts are heard announcing -Creon’s return; and presently he delivers before them all -the answer of the god.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in22'>“<em>Thus saith</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Phoebus, our Lord and Seer, in clear command:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>‘An unclean thing there is, hid in our land,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Eating the soil thereof: this ye shall cast</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Out, and not foster till all help be past’.</em>“<a href='#f22' class='c011'><sup>[22]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>But what is the unclean thing that is polluting the city? -Œdipus does not know that it is himself; and he questions -Creon until the oracular command seems clear to him—to -hunt out and banish the murderers of Laius. The task -seems hopeless. How is it possible, after all these years, to -find the men who slew the king? But the oracle has said -explicitly that it must be done; that they are still alive -within the city; and Œdipus unhesitatingly takes the task -upon him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>An assembly of the people is commanded, and Œdipus -publicly makes known to them his purpose of tracking the -murderers. In a great speech, full of tragic irony, he claims -their help in his search. They are Thebans born; but he, -a stranger to their town in those days when Laius was -killed, had never seen the king. It is for them to seek and -render up the men who murdered him. He calls upon -them solemnly to reveal what they may know. They need -not fear that harm will come to them, for he will promise -to befriend the man who does this service to the State. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>He pauses. But there is of course no answer. Again he -appeals to them, growing indignant now, because he believes -that they are wilfully shielding the guilty. Will they not -speak out, and save their city? Then he will make a -decree against them. For those who refuse to denounce -the murderers, they shall be outcast and shelterless, and -none shall succour them in living or in dying. For those -who will not lend him their active aid in his search, Nature -herself shall frown upon them and deny them every -blessing; whilst on the man himself who slew the king, the -most awful curse shall fall.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in20'>“<em>Even as his soul</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Is foul within him let his days be foul,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And life unfriended grind him till he die.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>More: if he ever tread my hearth and I</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Know it, be every curse upon my head</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>That I have spoke this day.</em>”<a href='#f22' class='c011'><sup>[22]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>As Œdipus, unconscious of what he is doing, invokes this -terrible curse upon himself, a blind old man is slowly led -in. He is the prophet Tiresias, for whom Œdipus has sent -at the suggestion of Creon. He is the only mortal being -who knows all the truth; and under peril of the ban that -Œdipus has just proclaimed: in virtue of his office, he must -needs proclaim it. How will he strike the blow at the -great good king? By his sacred calling, and his great age, -and his knowledge of the mesh of fate in which Œdipus -has been caught, he should be merciful. But as we watch -him we have strange doubts. It is not so much that he is -unshorn, ragged and unclean; we have learned to be familiar -with such things in these hermit-seers of an early age. -But there is something in the lowering brow and twitching -mouth that hints of an untamed soul in the unkempt -<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>body; and knowing the passionate heart of Œdipus himself, -we tremble for the issue.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At first it would seem that our fears are groundless. -Œdipus, who is calmer now, greets the prophet with profound -respect; and laying bare the oracle, he begs most -humbly for Tiresias’s help.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The prophet is calm too, awed by the thought of all that -is impending. He answers hesitatingly at first, almost -with a touch of pity and regret. He does know who is the -murderer of Laius, but—he dare not, he cannot tell. Such -a reply could only have one effect upon the tremendous -anxiety of the king. Rendered helpless by his ignorance, -his own keen wit cannot avail him one iota. He has perforce -to ask and ask of these ineffectual creatures around -him, only to be thrown back baffled again and again. For -one moment he puts a curb upon his rising anger, as he -tells Tiresias that his answer is not kind; and casting away -all pride and dignity, he kneels at the prophet’s feet. But -when in sullen words which give no light Tiresias doggedly -replies that he will not speak, Œdipus’s wrath leaps out at -him. Surely this man who knows God’s truth and will -not declare it is no prophet, but a devil. And is it not -probable therefore that he himself has had some hand in -the murder of Laius? As the words fall, there is a sudden -and malign change in Tiresias; and the dreadful truth -which could not be won from him by entreaty, flashes out -pitilessly in anger.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>So?—I command thee by thine own word’s power,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To stand accurst, and never from this hour</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Speak word to me, nor yet to those who ring</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Thy throne.</em> Thou art thyself the unclean thing.”<a href='#f22' class='c011'><sup>[22]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>But such a wild utterance, smiting through a tempest of -passion, carries no shade of conviction to Œdipus. It is -but a horrible insult, which this old man, because he is -feeble, thinks he may launch with impunity. Not until it -has been thrice repeated does the full significance of it -break upon him. Then a suspicion flashes into his mind. -This is doubtless some conspiracy against him, prompted -by Creon, the brother of his queen, to gain the throne. -The foolish improbability of such a plot will not bear -reflection for a moment; but the king’s impulsive nature -is goaded by rage and mistrust. He turns fiercely upon -Tiresias and roundly charges him with conspiring against -his life.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The prophet retorts with an emphatic denial, but he is -not content to stop there. In cold malignance, he repeats -his foul accusation against the king, seeming to gloat over -every word of the hideous charge and the penalty which -his prophetic vision sees that the gods will exact from -Œdipus—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in10'>“<em>Blind, who once had seeing eyes,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Beggared, who once had riches, in strange guise,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>His staff groping before him, he shall crawl</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>O’er unknown earth.</em>“<a href='#f22' class='c011'><sup>[22]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>To the infuriated king this frightful menace, like the -crimes of which he is accused, seems to be the mere raving -of madness; and he deigns no answer. The old man is led -away; Œdipus enters the palace; and in the pause that -follows the Chorus muse over the scene. They are bewildered -and torn by doubt. They may not disbelieve the -seer, but they cannot and will not believe that their -beloved king has been guilty of deeds so vile. As they sing, -Creon rushes on indignant; and he is followed a moment -<span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>afterward by Œdipus. Here at last is an opportunity to -strike out against the deadly thing which seems closing in -around him. Creon is no old and blind opponent, before -whose weakness his hands are tied; but a man of equal -strength and rank whom, in his rashness, he believes to be -his bitter enemy. Without a word of prelude or explanation, -Œdipus flings down the gauntlet; and declares -Creon, his comrade and the brother of his wife, to be a -traitor. The charge is false and foolish, to every mind but -that of the overwrought king. But reason cannot sway -him now; Creon’s protests are futile, and his proofs of -innocence mere words bereft of meaning. This knave who -has plotted against him must die, and quickly, before his -schemes can take effect. In vain Creon pleads for justice: -in vain the leader of the Chorus tries to stem the king’s -anger, With a rallying cry to his guards, Œdipus draws his -sword upon Creon. But as he springs to the blow there -suddenly appears in the doorway of the palace, Jocasta the -queen. An immediate silence falls: weapons are lowered; -and the queen advances slowly to the top of the palace -steps. The Chorus move back, leaving Œdipus and Creon -standing alone before her. She looks reproachfully into -one shamed face after another and then, with gentle dignity, -she speaks:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Vain men, what would ye with this angry swell</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of words heart-blinded? Is there in your eyes</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>No pity, thus, when all our city lies</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Bleeding, to ply your privy hates?... Alack,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>My lord, come in! Thou, Creon, get thee back</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To thine own house. And stir not to such stress</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of peril griefs that are but nothingness.</em>“<a href='#f22' class='c011'><sup>[22]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>There is authority in her tone and in her words, none the -less compelling because of the tender humanity below them. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>It calms the disputants: and as they recount to her the -cause of the quarrel, emotions ebb and leave the cold facts, -hard and ugly. It is clear that Œdipus has been rash in -his accusations; and Jocasta counsels him to accept the -oath of loyalty that Creon offers. Then, when the peace is -made, and she and Œdipus remain alone, she begs him to -tell her all that has happened. Œdipus sums the cause of -the brawl in a few words—he believes that Creon is plotting -against his life, by accusing him, through the instrumentality -of Tiresias the seer, of the murder of Laius. At the mention -of the seer there is a flash of scorn in Jocasta’s eyes, -followed by a shadow of pain, as memory brings back the -time when she trusted in the vain words of a prophet to -her sorrow.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>The seer?—Then tear thy terrors like a veil</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And take free breath. A seer? No human thing</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Born on the earth hath power for conjuring</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Truth from the dark of God.</em></div> - <div class='line in28'><em>Come, I will tell</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>An old tale.</em>“<a href='#f22' class='c011'><sup>[22]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>She recounts the story of the oracle that came to Laius, -declaring that he should die by the hand of his son; and -of the terrible means that they had taken to frustrate it, -casting out their child to die upon the mountain.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in14'>“<em>Thus did we cheat</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Apollo of his will. My child could slay</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>No father, and the King could cast away</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The fear that dogged him, by his child to die</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Murdered.—Behold the fruits of prophecy!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Which heed not thou! God needs not that a seer</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Help him, when he would make his dark things clear.</em>“<a href='#f22' class='c011'><sup>[22]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>As Jocasta speaks, we feel that time has not yet healed her -wound. The thought of that unnatural deed of her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>young motherhood, is still so horrible to her that though she -tries she cannot tell all the truth about it. She says that -Laius gave the baby to the slave, whereas it was she herself. -Remorse sweeps over her, and the bitterness which lies -just below the surface of her life rises in revolt against the -oracle which could tempt to such a deed. There is no -impiety in her words. Her voice is reverent when she -names the god. But for his corrupt interpreters her acute -perception has nothing but contempt. Œdipus will do -well to despise them too.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But the king has not observed her emotion. Something that -she has said about the manner of Laius’ death has startled -him. He asks her to repeat it. Yes, it was in Phokis, at a -place where three roads met; and it happened just before -the stranger Œdipus arrived. Œdipus is recalling fearfully -his own encounter on such a spot. But what was Laius like?</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Joc.</span></span> - <em>Tall, with the white new gleaming on his brow<br />He walked. In shape just such a - man as thou.</em><a href='#f22' class='c011'><sup>[22]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>In growing dread, hurried questions are put and answered; -and all the details save one Œdipus finds to correspond -with that old event. But that one may save him yet. For -the attendant who returned had said that a <em>band of robbers</em> -slew the king. He must be sent for instantly. Jocasta -promises to do so; but may she not know all that is troubling -him, and whither his questions tend?</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Œd.</span></span> - <em>Thou shalt. When I am tossed to such an height<br />Of dark foreboding, woman, when - my mind<br />Faceth such straits as these, where should I find<br />A mightier love than - thine?</em><a href='#f22' class='c011'><sup>[22]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>Then, partly because he is instinctively seeking relief from -the thoughts that oppress him: partly to refresh Jocasta’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>memory and to clarify his own mind, he recounts all the -story of his early life; of his parents Polybus and Merope, -of his visit to Delphi, of his flight from the oracular decree, -of the fierce encounter at the cross-roads in Phokis, and of -how he slew the unknown rider in the chariot. At this -point his voice falters:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in6'>“<em>Oh, if that man’s unspoken name</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Had aught of Laius in him, in God’s eye</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>What man doth move more miserable than I,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>More dogged by the hate of heaven!</em>“<a href='#f22' class='c011'><sup>[22]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>He has one shred of hope, however. If the herdsman who -returned spoke truth, clearly Œdipus was not the murderer. -Jocasta repeats her promise to send for him, and as she leads -the king into the palace she tries to soothe him. The herdsman -certainly told the story exactly so:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>... All they that heard him know,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Not only I. He cannot change again</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Now. And if change he should, O Lord of men,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>No change of his can make the prophecy</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of Laius’ death fall true. He was to die</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Slain by my son. So Loxias spake.... My son!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>He slew no man, that poor deserted one</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>That died.... And I will no more turn mine eyes</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>This way nor that for all their prophecies.</em>“<a href='#f22' class='c011'><sup>[22]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The awful irony underlying her words prepares us for the -next step of the revelation. Œdipus sees only one thing -yet—that he may be the unwitting murderer. But what -need to fear, says the queen, to comfort him, since the -God had said that Laius should be slain at the hands of -that poor dead babe? She is not really confident however. -The king’s apprehension has secretly seized on her too; -and presently she returns from the palace with her maidens, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>to pray at the altar of Apollo. She lays her husband’s grief -before the god.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>And seeing no word of mine hath power to heal</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>His torment, therefore forth to thee I steal,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>O Slayer of the Wolf, O Lord of Light,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Apollo....</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>O show us still some path that is not all</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Unclean; for now our captain’s eyes are dim</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>With dread, and the whole ship must follow him.</em>“<a href='#f22' class='c011'><sup>[22]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The answer to her prayer is very near; but bringing -desolation in the guise of joy. Even as she kneels before -the altar there comes a voice calling on the name of the -king, as though it were the voice of the god himself. It -is a stranger from Corinth; and the queen rises to receive -his greeting.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He is the bearer of good news, he says; a message from the -people of Corinth, to Œdipus. They have declared him to -be their king, in the place of Polybus, who is dead. -It seems good news indeed. Polybus dead, there is no -need now for the anxious king to fear that oracular menace -from Delphi; and Jocasta’s heart bounds at the thought.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in12'>“<em>Where stand ye at the last,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Ye oracles of God? For many a year</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Œdipus fled before that man, in fear</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To slay him. And behold we find him thus</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Slain by a chance death, not by Oedipus.</em>“<a href='#f22' class='c011'><sup>[22]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Œdipus is hurriedly sent for, and, hearing the news confirmed -from the lips of the messenger, is caught up suddenly -on a wave of exultation. In the violent reaction from his -lifelong terror there is a rush of joy which has something -sinister in it, by its very excess. Jocasta was right. It was -a lying oracle which said he should slay his father; and in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>the first sense of relief he vows that never again will he -trust in seer-craft. But the words are hardly cold upon his -lips, when he remembers that he has still one other thing -to fear. The curse had been, “To slay his father and marry -with his mother”; and while Queen Merope lives he must -therefore always be an exile from Corinth. But Jocasta is -not daunted. Possessed by her conviction that all oracles -are false and evil, she tries to reason away his fear.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Joc.</span></span> - <em>What should man do with fear, who hath but Chance<br />Above him, and no sight nor - governance<br />Of things to be? To live as life may run,<br />No fear, no fret, were - wisest ‘neath the sun.<br />And thou, fear not thy mother. Prophets deem<br />A deed - wrought that is wrought but in a dream.<br />And he to whom these things are nothing, - best<br />Will bear his burden.</em><a href='#f22' style='text-decoration: none; - '><sup>[22]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>The Corinthian messenger, too, has caught at Œdipus’s -words. Does the king fear Merope, believing her to be -his mother? And is that the reason why he has never -come to Corinth? Then let him set his mind at rest, for -he, the herdsman of Polybus, happens to have sure knowledge -that Œdipus is not the son of Merope. Œdipus and -Jocasta stand amazed; and Œdipus presses the stranger -for all that he knows. But at first he will not say more. -He repeats that Œdipus is not the son of Polybus and -Merope; but he shrinks from disclosing to the great king -that he was an unknown foundling. He answers reluctantly -to the eager questioning of Œdipus, who is now hot upon -the scent of his mysterious parentage. Blindly, almost -feverishly, with no hint of where each step is leading him, -he stumbles on. But fear is awakening in Jocasta, as bit -by bit the stranger reveals that he himself had given the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>infant to Polybus. But how came the child to him? -And whence? Thus pursues the excited king, while -Jocasta stands in silent suspense. The answer of the -stranger smites her with a sudden prescience of what is -coming. He says he found the babe in a high glen of -Kithairon; and as, in rapid answer to the king, he tells -of its poor maimed feet and of the Theban herdsman from -whom he received it, the full truth falls upon Jocasta with -a shattering blow. This man, the king, her husband, is -none other than that outcast child, her son. But Œdipus -does not see the horror yet; and as she stands rigid at his -side one thought and one prayer fill her mind—that he -may never know. But some frenzy seems to possess him, -driving him to destroy himself. He turns to an officer of -the Court. Where is the Theban herdsman of whom the -stranger speaks? He must be sought, and made to say -whence came the child that he gave to this stranger from -Corinth. The officer replies hesitatingly; he thinks he -must be the same man who was king Laius’ attendant, and -who has already been sent for. But only the queen can -tell of his whereabouts. Œdipus turns quickly on Jocasta, -and then for the first time sees her anguish. But he has no -clue to its cause. He cannot know that there has fallen on -her misery worse than death; and that with all the strength -of body and soul she is trying to shield him from it. He -can see only a fear, which seems to him contemptible, that -he may prove to be base-born. Impatience leaps to anger -as she tries to evade his questions; and he replies with a -taunt at what he believes to be her pride.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Œd.</span></span> - <em>Fear not!... Though I be thrice of slavish stuff<br />From my third grand-dam down, - it shames not thee.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Joc.</span></span> - <em>Ask no more. I beseech thee.... Promise me!</em></p> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Œd.</span></span> - <em>To leave the Truth half found? ‘Tis not my mood.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Joc.</span></span> - <em>I understand; and tell thee what is good.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Œd.</span></span> - <em>Thy good doth weary me.</em><a href='#f22' style='text-decoration: none; - '><sup>[22]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>It seems at this word that all Jocasta’s strength breaks down. -The malign power that is driving Œdipus onward is too great -for her, and she cannot strive against it any longer. She -can only wail in answer:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in18'>“<em>O child of woe,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I pray God, I pray God, thou never know!</em>“<a href='#f22' class='c011'><sup>[22]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>And then, as Œdipus turns roughly from her, all his tenderness -shrivelled to scorn and wrath, the last link snaps. In -another moment he will know the truth; and knowing it, -she will be loathsome and abhorrent in his eyes. The -thought brings intolerable pain. She craves relief, escape, -and, swiftly—before Œdipus can learn what he is seeking, -before his accusing eyes can meet her own—annihilation. -With an imploring gesture, she takes one step toward him.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Unhappy one, good-bye! Good-bye before</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I go: this once, and never, never more!</em>“<a href='#f22' class='c011'><sup>[22]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>But Œdipus does not heed her; and with wild eyes, she -flies into the palace, to die by her own hand. And when -the great king, brought at last to see the truth which casts -him lower than the meanest slave, thinks to avenge his -wrongs on her, he finds that she has taken vengeance on -herself. Before her pitiful dead body his wrath is turned -to loathing of himself; and the hand that was raised against -her, smites the light for ever from his own eyes.</p> - -<hr class='c012' /> - -<div class='footnote' id='f21'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r21'>21</a>. </span>From Professor J. W. Mackail’s translation of the <cite>Odyssey</cite> (John -Murray).</p> -</div> - -<div class='footnote' id='f22'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r22'>22</a>. </span>From Professor Gilbert Murray’s translation of the <cite>Œdipus, -King of Thebes</cite> (George Allen & Co. Ltd.).</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span> - <h2 class='c005'><em>Sophocles: Antigone</em></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_4 c009'>There was an important figure in <cite>Œdipus the King</cite> -whom we only glanced at in passing when we -were considering the story of Jocasta. He was -the queen’s own brother, Creon; a man who -knew better than to covet kingly honours, and who had a -soul for friendship. It was he who said, answering the -rash accusation which Œdipus made against him:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>This I tell thee. He who plucks a friend</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Out from his heart hath lost a treasured thing</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Dear as his own dear life.</em>“<a id='r23' /><a href='#f23' class='c011'><sup>[23]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Thus, when the great king’s downfall came, Creon knew -how to be a friend. He was gentle to Œdipus; and forgetting -his own wrongs, he took upon himself the care of -the king’s young daughters, Antigone and Ismene.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But Creon said once, at another crowded moment of his -career:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in16'>“<em>Hard it is to learn</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The mind of any mortal or the heart,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Till he be tried in chief authority.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Power shows the man.</em>“<a id='r24' /><a href='#f24' class='c011'><sup>[24]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>It was a true word, and curiously verified in his own life. -For he who had shown so fair a front in Thebes, when the -reins of government lay in the hands of Œdipus and Jocasta, -proved himself a tyrant when authority fell on him. Creon, -young and ardent, could dare the wrath of Œdipus, and tell -him to his face that even a king might not be unjust. But -the same man clothed in power, with youthful ideals fled and -all the texture of his mind hardened by age and convention, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>could only meet the supreme idealism of Antigone with a -decree of death.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is not suggested that Sophocles has developed Creon’s -character in an unbroken sequence through the three dramas -in which he appears. The chronology of the plays forbids -this. For the <cite>Antigone</cite>, which presents the last phase of -the story, was written years before <cite>Œdipus the King</cite> and -the <cite>Œdipus at Colonus</cite>, which give us both Antigone and -Creon in earlier days. But that is an external fact which -does not much disturb the unity of the poet’s conception. -The Creon of the three plays is essentially the same man. -He is not consistent always, since no human creature is. -But under that accusing contrast between the theories of -his youth and the practice of his age there is an abiding law -of human nature which only the few fine souls escape. And -we are clearly shown that Creon was not born to be the -rare exception. Always prudent, law-abiding and careful -of authority, these qualities would strengthen with the -years; and lighted by no higher truth, but carried to excess -in moments of passion, would inevitably make him what he -became.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In the same way there is an underlying unity in the character -of Antigone. In <cite>Œdipus the King</cite> we know her only by -name, a child of thirteen into whose sunny life a storm has -suddenly crashed. In the <cite>Œdipus at Colonus</cite>, the strong -young spirit has awakened, and is giving clear promise of -the heights to which it will soar before its short day is done. -While the <cite>Antigone</cite>, the drama which bears her name, does -but fulfil and make perfect what is fair promise in the other -plays.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We are entitled therefore, in coming to the Attic dramatists -for Antigone’s story, to read the three Sophoclean plays as -<span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span>if they were a trilogy; although each of the three is distinct -and complete in itself. And we shall find too, that in the -<cite>Seven against Thebes</cite> of Æschylus, in which Antigone first -appears, there is sounded once for all the high heroic note -to which her story moved in the versions of the later poets. -There is indeed a wealth of testimony for Antigone, and -fine unanimity in it. We can trace her short life almost -throughout. There was the happy early time in Thebes, -when royalty sat lightly on the merry boys and girls in the -palace; and when the great king and queen were simply -their dear and loving parents. That was a time of sweetest -memories. Ambition had not yet taught the two spirited -brothers to hate each other; and Ismene was still the -gentle little sister who would follow with unquestioning -devotion wherever Antigone might lead.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But in one black day, and with no warning given, every ray -of happiness had been blotted out. Of all the sights and -sounds huddled into the memory of that hideous day, -Antigone could only recall two things clearly—the stately -queen her mother lying dead by her own hand; and -Œdipus the king, self-blinded, pleading in strange remorse -outside the palace to be banished from the city. But one -impression, filtering almost unconsciously through her -terror, remained and grew. It was the look of horror, almost -of loathing, on every face that surrounded the unhappy king. -Antigone herself could hardly bear to see him; but she -vaguely felt that in these shrinking figures there was something -more than physical revulsion at the sight. Why did -the crowding people, the senators, even Prince Creon -himself, draw away from her father as though he were -some unclean thing whose touch would pollute them? -That they did so stung her; and although their terrified -<span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>recoil was only dimly realized at the time, it brought a -flood of pity and indignation with it. In the wave of -protecting love that filled her heart, making her long to -fling herself between the dear maimed father and all those -cruel glances, Antigone the woman sprang to a noble life. -She did not grow to full stature immediately. Years -passed, and Creon, assuming rule in Thebes as regent for -her brothers, prevailed on Œdipus to seclude himself -within the city. Time brought sad knowledge to Antigone. -She learned the causes of the tragedy that had fallen on -them, as it seemed, out of a blue sky. She found, too, the -meaning of that frantic abhorrence of her father; though -she never learned to share it. Neither intellect nor heart -would consent to hold him guilty: not by one iota was he -responsible for the evils that had smitten him. So, as his -own brain cleared from the shock of the calamity, Œdipus -found a champion in his daughter whose splendid logic and -whose love were alike invincible.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Later he had need of all Antigone’s courage. For faction -sprang to life in the city and grew fast. Superstition fed -it eagerly, and soon there was but one thought in all the -darkened mind of Thebes, from Creon downward. Their -town, in sheltering Œdipus, was harbouring pollution; and -he must be cast out. The people clamoured fanatically; -but Creon and the princes Polynices and Eteocles made no -stand against them. To them, the presence of Œdipus -was a political embarrassment, as well as an alleged cause -of displeasure to the gods. Thus ambition united with -fear to drive them on; and presently, his unnatural sons -consenting, Œdipus was ruthlessly cast out of Thebes.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There was only one voice uplifted in his defence; but a -woman’s word, though it might be the soul of right, had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>no value in the counsels of the State. Œdipus went into -exile alone: poor, blind and dogged by the curse which -his cruel destiny had invoked upon him. But he did not -wander long unfriended.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in28'><em>Antigone,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>E’er since her childhood ended, and her frame</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Was firmly knit, with ceaseless ministry</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Still tends upon an old man’s wandering,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Oft in the forest ranging up and down</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Fasting and barefoot through the burning heat</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Or pelting rain, nor thinks, unhappy maid,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of home or comfort, so her father’s need</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Be satisfied.</em><a id='r25' /><a href='#f25' class='c011'><sup>[25]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Year after year they wandered together, haunting the glens -and groves of Mt. Kithairon, where the infant Œdipus had -been exposed. It seemed as if his destiny were calling him -to render up his life there on the spot which had seen the -beginning of his wrongs. But the gods relented a little at -last. There came to Œdipus a divine message that he -should have honour at the end, and a glorious passing. He -should not know the death of a mortal creature. He was -to fare to Athens, and in the little <span lang="la" xml:lang="la">deme</span> of Colonus, at the -place which was sacred to Poseidon and Prometheus, the -awful Powers of the Underworld would welcome him, -living, to their shadowy empire.</p> - -<p class='c000'>To Colonus, then, Œdipus and Antigone wearily came; -and threw themselves on the protection of Theseus. They -were strange suppliants, hardly auspicious in the eyes of -the Athenian folk before whom Antigone pleaded for -succour. And the message which Œdipus sent to their -king was stranger still, as he repeated the promise that -Apollo had given him:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in8'><span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>“<em>When I should reach my bourne,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And find repose and refuge with the Powers</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of reverent name, my troubled life should end</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>With blessing to the men who sheltered me,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And curses on their race who banished me</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And sent me wandering forth.</em>“<a href='#f25' class='c011'><sup>[25]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Even in dying, it seemed, his life should have no peace. -There was still one act of wrath to do: the stormy day -must needs go out in storm. When he stood before -Theseus, to declare his name and history, all the unquiet -flux of life seemed sweeping round him still.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Fair Aigeus’ son, only to gods in heaven</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Comes no old age, nor death of anything;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>All else is turmoiled by our master Time.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The earth’s strength fades and manhood’s glory fades,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Faith dies, and unfaith blossoms like a flower.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And who shall find in the open streets of men</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Or secret places of his own heart’s love</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>One wind blow true for ever?</em>“<a id='r26' /><a href='#f26' class='c011'><sup>[26]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Theseus took pity on the poor blind king and gave him -refuge. But meantime, away in Thebes, his sons were -quarrelling about the succession to the throne. Eteocles -and Creon had stirred up the people against Polynices; -and he, too, was banished from the kingdom. But he had -strength and influence. He fled to Argos: married the -daughter of king Adrastus there, and presently had raised -an army, with six other Greek chiefs, to invade his native -country. This incident is the subject of Æschylus’s drama -called <cite>The Seven against Thebes</cite>.</p> - -<p class='c000'>On the eve of the battle, Polynices remembered Œdipus. -His own misfortunes had taught him remorse for the -part which he had played against his outcast father; and -a conviction weighed on him that no enterprise of his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>might succeed until he had begged forgiveness and a blessing. -So he travelled hastily to Colonus; and in fear both of his -father and of Theseus, he flung himself as a suppliant at the -altar of Poseidon. But in the heart of Œdipus anger still -burned; and in his ears still sounded the last oracular -command—to curse these impious sons before he died. At -first he refused even to see Polynices, when Theseus -brought word of his petition; and only yielded to Antigone’s -plea that he should at least give her brother a hearing.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Father, give ear, though I be young that speak.</em></div> - <div class='line in24'><em>... He is thy son:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Whence, were his heartless conduct against thee</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Beyond redemption impious, O my sire,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Thy vengeance still would be unnatural.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>O, let him!—Others have had evil sons</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And passionate anger, but the warning voice</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of friends hath charmed their mood. Then do not thou</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Look narrowly upon thy present griefs,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>But on those ancient wrongs thou didst endure</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>From father and from mother. Thence, thou wilt learn</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>That evil passion ever ends in woe.</em>“<a href='#f25' class='c011'><sup>[25]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>But from the first there was no hope of a softer mood in -Œdipus. Grimly he listened while Polynices poured out -his plea for forgiveness, and when all was said, broke into the -curse which was to devastate his children’s lives. Never -should the crime of Polynices and Eteocles be forgiven; -but in this battle, when each hoped to win glory and the -throne of Thebes, both should fall, slain each by the other’s -hand.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The siege of Thebes was thus foredoomed; and Antigone -implored her brother to abandon the enterprise. But he -was committed to it beyond recall; and went to meet -<span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>failure and certain death. One solemn request he made of -her and of Ismene too, at their farewell. When he should -lie dead before Thebes, would she promise him the last -holy act of burial? There would be no other kin to perform -the rite, and if it were not done, his ghost must -wander endlessly and find no rest.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in24'>“<em>I must attend</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To my dark enterprise, blasted and foiled</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Beforehand by my father’s angry curse.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>But as for you, Heaven prosper all your way,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>If ye will show this kindness in my death,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>For nevermore in life shall ye befriend me!</em>“<a href='#f25' class='c011'><sup>[25]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>No oath could bind Antigone more strongly than the -prompting of her love; but she gave her word to Polynices, -so that he might go untroubled by a dread more -awful than any other to a Greek. And when the testing -time came, both love and duty were irrevocably engaged. -It came very soon. On the day that the Seven laid siege -to Thebes, the gods took Œdipus. In marvellous fashion -he left the earth, rapt away in the thunders of Olympus, -while mighty voices called upon his name. And as, unseen -by mortal eyes, he crossed that mysterious Brazen Causeway, -the Argive army lay round Thebes. When Antigone -and Ismene returned to the city, dreadful tidings were -brought to them. Their brothers had met in single combat, -and, fighting furiously, each had slain the other.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Messenger.</span></span> - <em>The genius of them both was even so dire,<br />So undistinguishing; and with one - stroke<br />Consigns to nothingness that hapless race ...<br />Thebè is rescued: but her - princes twain<br />By mutual slaughter fratricidally<br />Are perished; their own land - hath drunk their blood.</em><a id='r27' /><a href='#f27' style='text-decoration: none; - '><sup>[27]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<div id='ANTIGONE' class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/i_215.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic001'> -<p>ŒDIPUS & ANTIGONE<br /><br /><em>From the sculpture by Hugues in the Luxembourg</em></p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span>Creon instantly assumed control. The Argive host was -beaten back, and when the next day dawned, the invading -force was gone. The siege was over; and Thebes might -set about the pious task of burying its dead. The princes -were taken up from the spot where they had fallen, and -brought into the city. By the most sacred law of Greek -religion every ceremony of burial should now be reverently -performed. The duty devolved first on male kindred; -and Creon, as uncle to the princes, should perform the -rites. But Creon was now king of Thebes; and in that -capacity there fell on him another, and a conflicting, duty. -He must decide what burial honours might fittingly be -paid to Polynices, the traitor who had fought against his -country.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Antigone waited in anxiety for the decision. For Eteocles -she had no fear: he had given no offence to Thebes. But -she knew Creon’s rigorous spirit; she knew his devotion to -the State; and she trembled for the poor misguided brother -who had sinned against the State. In the early morning -after the battle, Antigone came out of the palace, to meet -the procession which bore her brothers’ bodies in. And as -she joined her voice to the mourners’ wail, Creon’s herald -broke upon their grief, to announce the king’s decree.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Herald.</span></span> - <em>’Tis mine to announce the will and firm decree<br />Of the high council of this - Theban state.<br />Eteocles, as loyal to his land,<br />Shall be insepulchred beneath her - shade....<br />But this, his brother Polynices’ corpse,<br />Graveless shall be cast - forth for dogs to tear.<br /> ... Dead though he be, his country’s gods<br />Shall ban - him, since he brought in their despite<br />A foreign host to invade and subjugate<br - />Their city....</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'> </span> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span> <em>... No drink-offerings<br />Poured at his tomb by careful - hands, no sound<br />Of dirgeful wailing shall enhance his fame,<br />Nor following of - dear footsteps honour him.<br />So runs the enactment of our Theban lords.</em><a - href='#f27' class='c011'><sup>[27]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>But Creon had reckoned without Antigone. Her utmost -apprehension had not dreamed that so cruel an edict could -be passed. It was foul dishonour to the dead, and an insult -to the gods. But she would never suffer it. Though she -must be one woman against the whole of Thebes, her -brother should not lack the necessary rites.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Antigone.</span></span> - <em>But I make answer to the lords of Thebes,<br />Though none beside consent to bury - him,<br />I will provide my brother’s funeral.<br /> ... Then, O my - soul,<br />Of thine own living will share thou the wrongs<br />Forced on the helpless - dead: be leal and true.</em><a href='#f27' style='text-decoration: none; - '><sup>[27]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>At this point of the story, the <cite>Antigone</cite> of Sophocles opens. -Creon has heard a rumour of defiance, and has added a -penalty of death to his decree. The sisters are alone outside -the palace. Antigone, not doubting of Ismene for a -moment, rapidly puts before her a plan for Polynices’ -burial. They must act at once, quickly and quietly, before -Creon may have time to prevent them. To her utter -amazement, however, Ismene will not help her. She is a -gentle, timid creature: she cannot think it possible that -Antigone will dare to defy Creon’s edict: the mere -suggestion terrifies her. She cannot rise to Antigone’s -perception of a law higher than this ugly mandate against -the dead; and if she could, she is not of the heroic fibre to -make a stand against authority. She sees and admits that -this vengeful edict must needs offend the gods; but for -<span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span>her part, she can only pray to be held guiltless of it. She -is not lacking in love and loyalty to her kin. When Œdipus -and Antigone were wandering in beggary, Ismene had -secretly contrived to send them aid; and once she had -ridden a perilous journey in order to warn them of danger. -She is no craven. Only, she is oppressed by a sense of -physical weakness: the forces which Antigone will challenge -are overwhelming, and will surely crush her. Is it not rash -and sinful to attempt the impossible?</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in14'>“<em>O think how beyond all</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Most piteously we two shall be destroyed,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>If in defiance of authority</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>We traverse the commandment of the king!</em>“<a href='#f24' class='c011'><sup>[24]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Antigone is bitterly disappointed. She had gauged Ismene -by herself, and thought her courage would be equal to her -love. To her the duty to their dead is a holy act, crying -aloud for fulfilment, and shining far above this tyrannous -decree. It is so clear to her eager spirit that she cannot -doubt or hesitate. She had thought that one word to -Ismene would enlist her help; and instead, she is met with -puerile answers counselling prudence and submission. Her -passionate soul flames into indignation, and in her anger -she is less than just to Ismene. Despite her heroism, she -is simply human. Nor is she, as has sometimes been -suggested, like a martyr of the early Christian era, whose -humility and gentleness would bless the hand that smote. -Antigone’s warm heart is as strong in its hatred as its love; -absolute in devotion, but impetuous in anger; capable of -supreme self-sacrifice, and tender to infirmity; but intolerant -of moral weakness and meanness and timidity. -She retorts in scorn upon Ismene:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>“<em>I will not urge you! No! Nor if now you list</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To help me, will your help afford me joy.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Be what you choose to be! This single hand</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Shall bury our lost brother. Glorious</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>For me to take this labour and to die!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Dear to him will my soul be as we rest</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>In death, when I have dared this holy crime.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>My time for pleasing men will soon be over;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Not so my duty towards the Dead! My home</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Yonder will have no end. You, if you will,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>May throw contempt on laws revered on High.</em>“<a href='#f24' class='c011'><sup>[24]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Ismene protests that she had no thought of scorn; and indeed -her gentle spirit has no place for anything so harsh. But -when she begs Antigone to keep her purpose secret, and -reiterates her conviction that the attempt will prove futile, -Antigone will not listen any longer. With a bitter word -on her lips, she goes out alone to face her perilous task.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Speak in that vein if you would earn my hate</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And aye be hated of our lost one. Peace!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Leave my unwisdom to endure this peril;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Fate cannot rob me of a noble death.</em>”<a href='#f24' class='c011'><sup>[24]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Ismene, left standing before the palace, gives one involuntary -cry of mingled fear and admiration. Then the thought -of Antigone’s danger overwhelms her, and she rushes within -like one distracted.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In the Parados which follows, sung by a Chorus of Theban -elders, we are made to feel with growing force the isolation -of Antigone. For they sing of the Argive attack, and of -the sin of Polynices in bringing an army against Thebes. -They are old men, and cannot be expected to share the -ardent enthusiasm of youth; and being senators, their -greatest care must be to uphold the State against its -enemies. When Creon enters, heralded with pomp and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>ceremony, they are tempered to the dry official mood -which will exactly suit his purpose.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Creon is newly burdened with the weight of monarchy; -and in this his first public proclamation it seems to oppress -him. There is an evident anxiety in his tone as he repeats -the edict that he has made against Polynices. It seems, -despite the authority of his words, as though he were trying -to justify the decree, not only to possible critics among -his hearers, but to an inner malcontent who will not be -silenced. With all the strength of words, he emphasises -his devotion to the State; and from our knowledge of -Creon, we realize that this is something more than mere -protestation. The glory of Thebes shall be his constant -aim and utmost care, he says. Her friends he will exalt, -and her enemies shall be his enemies.</p> - -<p class='c000'>With this prelude, he comes fittingly to the terms of the -edict. Eteocles, who died fighting for his country, shall -receive every tribute that the State can pay; but the -traitor who could betray his country to an enemy shall be -justly left dishonoured, for carrion to devour. As we -listen to the speech we are compelled to admit its stern -logic. We see that Creon’s action is not entirely arbitrary, -so far. There is, according to his standard, rigorous -justice in it; and no other standard had yet been applied. -The Chorus would not question it. It is in the main an -echo of their own thought; only it looks a little harsh, put -into words. They, too, believe Polynices guilty of an -unpardonable crime against the country that they serve; -and they have no wish to gainsay Creon. But about this -vengeance taken on the dead there seems to be a certain -degree of excess, which forbids entire approval. At any -rate, they will take no responsibility for it. “It is thine,” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>they reply to the king, “to exercise all power.” They will -not take upon themselves to criticize the action of their -king, though it may cause uneasiness; and on the other -hand, they dare not censure it. He is in authority, and -they must submit.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Creon then proceeds to explain that he has set a watch -over Polynices’ body. But even while he is speaking there -shuffles on the scene a curious, half-comic figure, announcing -that the edict has been defied. He is one of the sentinels -set to guard the corpse. In brusque speech, and with -exaggerated fear for his own life, he tells a strange tale. -At the first light of morning, he and his companions found -that some unknown hand had given the prince his funeral -rites: not the full and complete ceremony, but just so -much as to give peace to the unquiet spirit.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>And when the scout of our first daylight watch</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Showed us the thing, we marvelled in dismay.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The Prince was out of sight; not in a grave,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>But a thin dust was o’er him, as if thrown</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>By one who shunned the dead man’s curse.</em>“<a href='#f24' class='c011'><sup>[24]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Creon’s judicial air vanishes in a moment. Astonishment -quickly gives place to anger as he listens; and this is only -heightened when the Chorus suggest that some god has -interposed to pay the burial rites. Startled by the strange -recital, their words betray an involuntary glimpse of the -misgiving that underlies their submission to the king, -Creon breaks into angry speech. The insult to his authority -stings his new-found sense of power; but when the -senators imply that the gods themselves disapprove of his -action, some prick of the unacknowledged truth goads him -to fury. And below his wrath there lies a suspicion of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span>disloyalty amongst the citizens, and corruption amongst his -slaves.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Not the gods, he says, but these same watchmen who were -set to guard the body, have performed the rites. And they -have done it for gain; set on by rebels who will not accept -his rule. Driven by complex emotions, he loses all sense -of restraint; and threatens the sentinel with torture and -death if he does not find and bring the culprit immediately. -Then he strides into the palace, and the man flings off with -a gibe.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In the short interval which follows, the Chorus sing aptly -and beautifully of the daring and skill of man. But their -ode soon breaks into excited exclamations. They see the -watchman who but lately left them returning hurriedly -and leading a woman by the hand. At the same moment -Creon enters.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Chorus.</span></span> - <em>What portent from the gods is here?<br />My mind is mazed with doubt and fear.<br - />How can I gainsay what I see?<br />I know the girl Antigone.<br />O hapless child of - hapless sire!<br />Didst thou, then, recklessly aspire<br />To brave kings’ laws, and now - art brought<br />In madness of transgression caught?</em><a href='#f24' - class='c011'><sup>[24]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>Her captor is exultant, for he has disproved the charge -against himself. Not that it gives him pleasure to betray -the kind young princess; but everybody’s life is precious -to himself, he says, not seeing one gleam of the splendid -scorn of life in the girl who is standing beside him. This -maid is undoubtedly the transgressor, for they caught her -in the act. Now let the king acquit him of the false -accusation, and set him free. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>Before the man may go, however, Creon turns to Antigone. -She stands pale and silent, her eyes lowered before the -incredulous gaze of all these hostile men. Does she confirm -the amazing statement they have just heard? he asks. -It is quite true, she answers; she owns to the deed. Then -Creon, having dismissed the watchman, demands to be -told why she has dared to disobey his edict. Antigone’s -reply, with all its spiritual power and beauty, is also touchingly -human. Creon has asked whether she was aware of -the decree and the penalty.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Ant.</span></span> - <em>I could not fail to know. You made it plain.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Creon.</span></span> - <em>How durst thou then transgress the published law?</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Ant.</span></span> - <em>I heard it not from Heaven, nor came it forth<br />From Justice, where she reigns - with Gods below.<br />They too have published to mankind a law.<br />Nor thought I thy - commandment of such might<br />That one who is mortal thus could overbear<br />The - infallible, unwritten laws of Heaven.<br />Not now or yesterday they have their being,<br - />But everlastingly, and none can tell<br />The hour that saw their birth. I would not, - I,<br />For any terrors of a man’s resolve,<br />Incur the God-inflicted penalty<br />Of - doing them wrong. That death would come—I knew<br />Without thine edict:—if before the - time,<br />I count it gain. Who does not gain by death,<br />That lives, as I do, amid - boundless woe?<br />Slight is the sorrow of such doom to me.<br />But had I suffered my - own mother’s child,<br />Fallen in blood, to be without a grave,<br />That were indeed a - sorrow. This is none.</em><a href='#f24' style='text-decoration: none; - '><sup>[24]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>Up to this point her ardent vision and courage have carried -her on, soaring high into the light of eternal truth, or -<span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span>tenderly stooping to the sanction of dear human ties. The -austerity of the stern faces by which she is surrounded has -had no power to quell her fervent spirit; and it is only -when she catches Creon’s look of contempt that a bitter -reality forces itself upon her. This passion of self-sacrifice, -this duty which comes to her as a mandate from the gods -themselves, is stark nonsense in the eyes of the man who -confronts her. The thought gives a sudden pause to her -ardour, and there is a quick revulsion to anger. O these -blind eyes that will not see! And this stupidity that -refuses to be enlightened! She drops to a lower range, and -ends abruptly on a taunt at Creon’s dullness of perception:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>And if thou deem’st me foolish for my deed,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I am foolish in the judgment of a fool.</em>“<a href='#f24' class='c011'><sup>[24]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The Chorus has relapsed into submission to Creon. No -spark of fire from Antigone’s burning words can warm their -coldness. Yet their frigid comment is significant. How -like she is, in her strong will, to Œdipus, her sire. Creon -takes up their words. Yes, she is stubborn, but the hardest -metal will soonest break. Not content with disobedience, -she must glory in her deed. But she shall surely die for -it; and Ismene, too, if she has been an accomplice.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Antigone had expected no less than the death penalty for -herself; but she will by no means allow Ismene to be -included in it. For, first, Ismene had refused her help; -and then, she is too slight and weak a creature for such a -terrible ordeal. Antigone sees that there is a sharp struggle -coming. Some attendants have brought her sister from -the palace, and she comes weeping for Antigone’s fate. -Creon turns upon her in a fury. Without a sign of proof, -he roundly accuses her of complicity in the deed.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>To Ismene, who does not know what has passed, it seems -clear that Antigone has in some way implicated her. But -she will not deny it. On the contrary, there is in her -tender heart some sense of relief, despite her fear, that she -can now prove to Antigone her loyalty. Ever since she -first refused her help, remorse has stung her. But now -there is an opportunity to redeem her weakness, and she -makes a pathetic attempt to share Antigone’s fate. It is -not a very bold effort, however: she seems almost to tremble -as she tells Creon that she <em>did</em> help in the burial—if Antigone -said so; and none but a man who was blind with rage could -have been deceived by it. But to Creon the poor little -declaration has all the appearance of truth; and Antigone, -knowing his inexorable nature, sees that he will assuredly -condemn Ismene to death. She must interpose, quickly and -decisively. She is still sore with disappointment at her -sister; her own burden, since the glow of her magnificent -defence passed, has grown heavier at every moment; and -there is, moreover, a very natural resentment that Ismene -should claim merit where it is not due. She breaks in with -an emphatic denial of her sister’s help.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Ismene.</span></span> - <em>Alas! and must I be debarred thy fate?</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Antig.</span></span> - <em>Life was the choice you made: Mine was to die.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Ismene.</span></span> - <em>I warned thee—</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Antig.</span></span> - <em>Yes, your prudence is admired<br />On earth. My wisdom is approved below.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Ismene.</span></span> - <em>Yet truly we are both alike in fault.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Antig.</span></span> - <em>Fear not; you live. My life hath long been given<br />To death, to be of service to - the dead.</em><a href='#f24' class='c011'><sup>[24]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>Hurt and baffled, Ismene now turns to Creon with an appeal -that she thinks must touch him. Will he not save Antigone -for Hæmon’s sake, his son, to whom she is betrothed? -<span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span>Surely he will not break the heart of his own child, too? -His reply is a brutal jest that wrings from Antigone the first -sign of her anguish. The pity of her broken life, to herself -and to the lover she must leave, elicits a poignant cry:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>O dearest Hæmon! How thy father wrongs thee!</em>”<a href='#f24' class='c011'><sup>[24]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Then she is led away by the guards.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Almost immediately there enters upon the scene a man -who is much better fitted to cope with Creon. He is -Hæmon, Antigone’s lover. Logical, restrained, and of -considerable force of character, he possesses besides a -valuable key to his father’s temperament. He knows the -man with whom he has to deal, and adopts a quiet, conciliatory -tone, deferring from the first to Creon’s rights as his -father and his king. He listens with apparent calm to the -arraignment of Antigone; and makes no reply when Creon -expounds his doctrine of absolute obedience to the laws of -the State, be they right or wrong. He even controls -himself at the rough exhortation to “cast her off, to wed -with some one down below.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>But Hæmon is only biding his time; and when his father -concludes, he begins, tactfully and with moderation, to -put before him the only plea which he thinks has any hope -of influencing him. He appeals to Creon in his public -capacity, and asks him to consider the opinion of the citizens -of Thebes upon Antigone’s action.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Thy people mourn this maiden, and complain</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>That of all women least deservedly,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>She perishes for a most glorious deed.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>‘Who, when her own true brother on the earth</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Lay weltering after combat in his gore,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Left him not graveless, for the carrion-fowl</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And raw-devouring field-dogs to consume—</em></div> - <div class='line'><em><span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span>Hath she not merited a golden praise?’</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Such the dark rumour spreading silently.</em>”<a href='#f24' class='c011'><sup>[24]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>With fine delicacy, and holding his emotions well in check, -Hæmon hints that his father will do well to listen to the -voice of the people. No human creature is infallible; and -is it not unwise to cling too tenaciously to one’s own will -in the face of so strong a public opinion? The tree that -will not yield to the torrent is torn up by the roots; and -the sailor who rushes into the teeth of the storm with sheets -taut is liable to end his voyaging keel-upward.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Creon interposes an angry exclamation; he will not be -taught discretion by a boy. But Hæmon is ready with an -answer—Even age must yield to truth and justice. Antigone -is no base rebel: all Thebes denies it. “Am I ruled by -Thebes?” thunders Creon; and Hæmon, seeing his father -lost to reason, begins to feel the onrush of despair that will -presently sweep away his self-control. In the wave of -emotion that breaks upon him, he answers hotly to Creon’s -taunts. It is the one thing needed to complete his father’s -wrath; and he turns with a brutal order to the Guards to -bring Antigone out, that she may die before her lover’s -eyes. But Hæmon will not look upon that sight. Under -his quiet manner, a torrent of passion has been gathering -force; and a terrible resolution. He has been keeping an -iron hand upon himself; but he has known all through his -pleading that if Creon will dare to carry out the sentence -against Antigone, it will cost him the life of his son. Hæmon -will not survive his bride. Now, with an ominous cry that -his father shall never see his face again, he rushes from the -place.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Chorus break into an exquisite lyric on the power of -love; and a few moments afterward Antigone herself -<span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span>crosses the scene, on her way to the place of death. She is -to be buried alive, in a rocky tomb in the hills; and this -last horror, with the inevitable reaction that has followed -on her splendid daring, have wrought a pathetic change in -her. All her audacity has gone: the passion of righteous -anger has faded out: even her perception is blunted. The -vision of a higher law, and the superb confidence that the -gods approve her action, have grown dull and faint before -this dreadful thing which is coming to her. Her voice -falters: her footsteps lag: and on her lips are pitiful words -of regret for all the fair things that she is leaving. The old -senators are moved, but are sadly inept in their efforts at -consolation. Remembering Antigone as she had faced them -in her magnificent heroism, they think to comfort her with -the thought that there is glory in her death. But Antigone -is not heroic now. She is a lonely human soul, confronting -the last grim reality; and the well-turned phrases of these -comfortable old men are revolting to her. What glory can -really compensate for the monstrous injustice that she -suffers; for the loss of youth, and lover, and friends; and -for the hideous darkness that will quench the light of the -sun for her?</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>O mockery of my woe!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I pray you by our fathers’ holy Fear,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Why must I hear</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Your insults, while in life on earth I stand,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>O ye that flow</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>In wealth, rich burghers of my bounteous land?...</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>By what enormity of lawless doom,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Without one friendly sigh,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I go to the strong mound of yon strange tomb—</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>All hapless, having neither part nor room</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>With those who live or those who die.</em>“<a href='#f24' class='c011'><sup>[24]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>Even faith seems swept away for a moment in this access of -physical weakness. But a gleam comes back, flickering -through the clouds of doubt upon that shadowy region of -the Underworld:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Dear will my coming be, father, to thee,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And dear to thee, my mother, and to thee,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Brother! since with these very hands I decked</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And bathed you after death, and ministered</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The last libations.</em>“<a href='#f24' class='c011'><sup>[24]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Then the clouds gather again, and she cannot see anything -clearly. Why is she suffering so? Is it possible that she -is guilty, that her deed was wrong? In the strange confusion -of her soul, truth itself seems to reel, and the form -of piety grows blurred. What if, after all, the gods do <em>NOT</em> -approve, and it is she who has sinned?</p> - -<p class='c000'>But from this most ghastly fear Creon himself unwittingly -delivers her. He breaks suddenly into her mourning with -a harsh order; and instantly her mind grows clear.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>O land of Thebè and city of my sires,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Ye too, ancestral Gods, I go, I go!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Even now they lead me to mine end. Behold!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Princes of Thebes, the only scion left</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of Cadmus’ issue, how unworthily,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>By what mean instruments I am oppressed,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>For reverencing the dues of piety.</em>”<a href='#f24' class='c011'><sup>[24]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Beside the perverse authority of Creon, her integrity rises -unassailable. So Antigone passes, in light at the last.</p> - -<hr class='c010' /> - -<p class='c000'>It would take too long to tell of the punishment which -befell Creon, which is nevertheless a vital part of Sophocles’s -<cite>Antigone</cite>. It was swift and crushing. No sooner had the -princess been led to her rocky tomb than the seer Tiresias -<span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span>demanded an audience of the king. He had come with -solemn warnings from the gods, first because the body of -Polynices, the burial of which Antigone had not been -allowed to complete, was polluting the city; and secondly -because his shameful cruelty to the princess had given the -gods offence. Let Creon go at once and rescue Antigone -from her living tomb; and let him pay the needful honours -to the dead. But if he will not instantly make this just -amend, the divine power will surely exact from him the -payment of a life for the life that he has taken.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Creon has no recourse to authority now; and he makes but -a feeble resistance. Misguided and over-zealous hitherto, -he is no sooner convinced of his error by the Prophet than -he makes a strenuous effort to put it right. He is shaken -by fear, too: and declares that he cannot fight with destiny. -So he goes to perform the will of the gods; and on his -action now the whole force of the tragedy hangs. The gods -had commanded—Release Antigone first, and then bury -the body. But Creon in his perturbation had not paid -good heed. True to his nature, he turns to the official -duty first, the burial that is to remove pollution from the -city. Characteristically, too, he stays to perform the rites -with the utmost amplitude. Not until a mound has been -heaped upon Polynices does he proceed to the cave to -release Antigone. Then he is too late. Antigone has -hanged herself from the rocky roof, and Hæmon is clinging -about her feet in agony. As Creon appears, the youth -springs up with intent to kill him; but missing his aim, he -turns the sword against himself and dies by Antigone’s -side.</p> - -<p class='c000'>So the gods exacted a life for a life; but the punishment -was not yet complete. When Creon, broken with grief, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>came carrying his dead son into the palace, he found that -the tragic news had been before him. Eurydice his wife had -slain herself.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Creon.</span></span> - <em>Take me away, the vain-proud man who slew<br />Thee, O my son, and thee!<br />Me - miserable! Which way shall I turn?<br />Which look upon? Since all that I can touch<br - />Is falling, falling, round me, and o’erhead<br />Intolerable destiny descends.</em><a - href='#f24' class='c011'><sup>[24]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<hr class='c012' /> - -<div class='footnote' id='f23'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r23'>23</a>. </span>From Professor Gilbert Murray’s translation of the <cite>Œdipus -Tyrannus</cite> (George Allen & Co., Ltd.).</p> -</div> - -<div class='footnote' id='f24'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r24'>24</a>. </span>From Professor Lewis Campbell’s translation of the <cite>Antigone</cite> -(Clarendon Press).</p> -</div> - -<div class='footnote' id='f25'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r25'>25</a>. </span>From Professor Lewis Campbell’s translation of the <cite>Œdipus at -Colonus</cite> (Clarendon Press).</p> -</div> - -<div class='footnote' id='f26'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r26'>26</a>. </span>From Professor Gilbert Murray’s translation of a fragment of -the <cite>Œdipus Coloneus</cite> in his <em>History of Ancient Greek Literature</em> -(William Heinemann).</p> -</div> - -<div class='footnote' id='f27'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r27'>27</a>. </span>From Professor Lewis Campbell’s translation of the <cite>Seven -against Thebes</cite> (Clarendon Press).</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span> - <h2 class='c005'><em>Euripides: Alcestis</em></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_4 c009'>In the story of Alcestis, we step at once into light and -sweet air. Here is no taint of an hereditary curse; -no excess of passion to offend the sight of gods and -men; no foul crime to be avenged by other crime, -and expiated in its turn by bitter remorse. The Trojan -Cycle and the Theban Cycle, with all the tragic grandeur -with which Æschylus and Sophocles have invested them, are -left behind. We come to a new theme, fair as a garden and -clean as a morning breeze. It is the tale of a wife’s supreme -love: of the friendship of a god for a mortal man: of an -unique act of hospitality and its magnificent requital. The -oppressive sense of destiny, of something almost malign in -the heart of things, has lifted. Human error and wrongdoing -and impotence, which have hitherto made such a -sombre background for heroic figures, are lost in a glow of -human love. And instead of a brooding menace, there is -the presence of a benign divinity, seeking to protect and -recompense virtue.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But while we turn to the <cite>Alcestis</cite> of Euripides with a -refreshing sense of contrast, we are soon reminded that the -elements of the story itself are unfavourable to the work as -dramatic art. We could not expect from such a theme a -tragedy so intense and powerful as the works of the two -elder dramatists. The spectacle of virtue rewarded may -satisfy a primary moral sense; but for that very reason it -will not evoke the strong emotions which are the life of -drama. While perfect accord with the divine power, and -harmony amongst the human agents of the story, utterly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span>preclude the sense of conflict without which tragedy can -hardly be. For that reason, it would seem, Euripides did -not treat the legend as pure tragedy. In any case, the -happy ending of the legend upon which he worked would -forbid it; and he has further departed from convention by -introducing two scenes which, by their flavour of satire and -their stinging realism, partake of the nature of comedy.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It would therefore appear that the critics have had some -cause of complaint against Euripides, on account of technical -defects in the <cite>Alcestis</cite>. They have indeed been very severe, -not only on this play, but on his drama generally, charging -him with all sorts of artistic sins which need not trouble -us in the least. Fortunately, we are not much concerned -with criticism: and in this case there is opposed to the -censure a vast body of praise, ranking most of the poets on -its side, and all the minds which are attuned most nearly to -the reflective note of Euripidean poetry.</p> - -<p class='c000'>If, however, we had time for a comparison with Sophocles, -we should quickly find for ourselves the one fact which -gives colour to much of the critics’ grumbling. Euripides -was not, like Sophocles, a consummate artist. But we -should not stop at such profitless negation; for a larger -truth would spring to light a moment afterward. While -the art is less, the thought is much greater: there is a wider -range, and a higher ideal. Euripides is not content to make -perfect drama: he must give humanity the fullest and -most complete expression possible to him. And since he -saw into the human heart with an eye at once so keen and -pitiful; since he felt with such insistence the ethical and -intellectual problems of the transition period in which he -lived, it is no wonder if the artist in him was sometimes -taxed beyond his powers. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span>The great Periclean Age was passing; and the new era had -some curious intellectual resemblances to our own time. It -had begun to examine the bases of its religion; it had seen -a great development of the democratic spirit; and it was -awakening to something wrong in the position of women. -That these questions greatly exercised the mind of Euripides -we may see from the prominent place they occupy in his -drama; and that he must have been an original and -advanced thinker upon them is evident from certain facts -of his personal unpopularity, and from the freshness of his -ideas to the modern mind. That modernity is indeed one -cause of his intimate appeal to the thought of our own day; -and so far as it touches the question of womanhood, it has -a peculiar interest for us.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The political aspect of the woman’s question will not detain -us for one moment, save to note in passing that it is at -least as old as Attic Drama. We have little clue to the -political significance, if any, of the many references to the -status of women which are to be found in the plays of -Euripides; and it does not matter. The broad fact is -clear, that the poet was profoundly interested in womanhood: -that he had studied feminine character with care -and sympathy; and that he felt and strove to reveal something -of the evil which must result to the race when the -woman is treated unjustly. Hence we have the <cite>Troades</cite>, a -drama which looks steadily at the horrors of war from the -standpoint of the women who suffer because of it. Hence -too, there is an Iphigenia exerting all the energies of an -acute mind to rescue her brother from imminent danger; -a Medea, transformed from a tender mother into a destroying -Fury by Jason’s infidelity; a Phædra literally consumed -by love which she will not declare; and an Alcestis, type of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span>enduring feminine courage, placed side by side with the -weak amiability of Admetus.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The character of Admetus is of some importance in the -story we are now to consider, and hence has received a -great deal of attention. It has been interpreted variously. -On the one hand he is made to appear improbably base, a -poltroon who was not only willing that his wife should die -in his stead, but who hurried her to the tomb with indecent -haste, to avoid the awkward questions of her relatives. On -the other hand, he is shown as incredibly virtuous, a man -whom the gods delighted to honour—with this doubtful -gift of life at another’s cost—and who could not, from very -piety, refuse it. But the Admetus of Euripides is not -found in either of these two extremes. He is a much more -real figure poised somewhere along a middle line between -the two; an average man, compounded of good and bad: -a warm friend, a tender husband, generously hospitable -and of evident charm of nature; but with a fatal weakness -of will. Thus, in the common level which the balance -shows, he is much more convincing as a man, and for the -purpose of the dramatist, an excellent foil to his heroic -wife.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In the lovely poem by William Morris on this subject, there -is a picture of King Admetus which glows with just the -charm that such a nature might possess. The poem, which -is called <cite>The Love of Alcestis</cite>, relates that part of the legend -which precedes the climax treated by Euripides. It tells -of the coming of the god Apollo to Thessaly, to serve as an -unknown herdsman to Admetus, King of Pheræ, for nine -long years; of Admetus’ wooing of the young daughter of -Pelias, King of Iolchos, and of the impossible condition (fulfilled, -however, by the divine herdsman’s aid) that whoever -<span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span>would wed with Alcestis must fetch her for her bridal in a -chariot drawn by a lion and a boar. It tells, too, of the -god’s help in foiling the spells of Artemis over the bride; -of the happy wedded life; and of the departure of Apollo, -leaving with the royal couple what seemed at first a priceless -boon—the promise that when Admetus came to die, -another life should be accepted by the Fates in his stead.</p> - -<p class='c000'>This is the man whose gracious serenity first won the love -of the god when, banished from Olympus, he came to serve -as a thrall:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Young, strong, and godlike, lacking naught at all</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of gifts that unto royal men might fall</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>In those old simple days....</em></div> - <div class='line in24'><em>... Little like a king,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>As we call kings, but glad with everything,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The wise Thessalian sat and blessed his life,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>So free from sickening fear and foolish strife.</em><a id='r28' /><a href='#f28' class='c011'><sup>[28]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>He stretched an eager hand to the young stranger who -knelt at his feet, begging hospitality, and promising rich -rewards.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>“Rise up, and be my guest,” Admetus said.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>“I need no gifts for this poor gift of bread,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The land is wide and bountiful enow.”</em><a href='#f28' class='c011'><sup>[28]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>From that moment, there was a tender comradeship -between the king and his new herdsman, which only grew -stronger with time. Now and then, strange tokens made -Admetus wonder about his guest’s identity; but he -refrained from questioning him, and it was not until the -last day of the appointed service that the revelation came. -The king’s sweet bride had been won ere then; brought -home to Pheræ in an ivory chariot which the stranger had -marvellously provided, drawn by a lion and a boar; and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span>the circle of their happiness seemed complete. But one -soft evening when the sun was sinking, the herdsman drew -the king out of the palace; and together they climbed the -hill to watch the sun go down. There fell on Admetus a -sense of sadness, and soon he was aware of a wonderful -change in the figure at his side. He dared not raise his -eyes, for he was conscious of glory which might not be -looked upon. Awe filled him, and now he knew the -meaning of his sadness. This mysterious guest who had -been so strong and wise and kind a friend, was leaving him. -As he stood trembling, in dread and sorrow, the dear voice -that he loved fell on his ear once more, thrilling him with -its music:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in6'>“<em>Fear not! I love thee ...</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And now my servitude with thee is done,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And I shall leave thee toiling on thine earth,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>This handful, that within its little girth</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Holds that which moves you so, O men that die;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Behold, to-day thou hast felicity,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>But the times change, and I can see a day</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>When all thine happiness shall fade away;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And yet, be merry, strive not with the end,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Thou canst not change it; for the rest, a friend</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>This year hath won thee who shall never fail.</em>”<a href='#f28' class='c011'><sup>[28]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>It is on this note of divine favour that the <cite>Alcestis</cite> of -Euripides opens. In the golden interval since Apollo took -his flight from Pheræ toward the setting sun, life had sped -joyously for Admetus and his lovely queen. The hint of -ill to come which had dropped from the god’s lips was to -the king but a fleck on a fair horizon, the measure of pain -that every man must bear—some day. But it was too -remote for present heeding. Why fret away the day of -youth because of sorrow and death that must come to all -<span class='pageno' id='Page_215'>215</span>alike at the end? So he lived merrily, as the god had -counselled, his fruitful land at peace with all the world, and -his doors flung wide to the stranger and the suppliant. -The little cloud was quite forgotten.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Alcestis was happy too, with a difference. Deep under the -bright surface of her life, the warning of the god lay hidden. -It never rose to disturb her husband’s boyish gaiety, nor to -trouble with its shadow the sunny eyes of her little ones. -But it was not lulled to sleep. Alcestis could not palter -with reality. In quiet times the black thing was called up -from its hiding place, and faced and fought. There was -many an hour of anguish before it was finally conquered, -since youth and beauty and happiness are precious. But -from the moment when Alcestis learned that love was -greater than them all—when she pledged her soul to take -upon herself the evil that was coming to her husband, life -grew calm and fair again. There was little outward sign -to mark the struggle: only a gentle gravity crept into her -sweetness, and her voice grew tenderer still to husband and -to babes. And she too clutched the hope, since she was -human after all, that the thing she feared was still far -away.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Very soon, however, and with bewildering suddenness, the -little cloud gathered into storm. The fiat went out -from the Moiræ that Admetus was to die—now, in the -glory of youth and strength, a goodly prize to enrich the -House of Hades. One favour only they would grant, at -the supplication of Apollo for his mortal friend—that the -king might live if father or mother or wife would consent -to die for him. Admetus, unprepared for an ordeal which -must shake so slight a nature to its roots; and with all his -kindly social virtues rent by the shock, forgot his manhood. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_216'>216</span>The old people clung feverishly to their remnant of dear -life; and Alcestis knew that this was the moment when -the compact that she had made with her own soul must be -ratified to the powers below. She gave her word to the -Fates that she would die for her husband.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Now the appointed day has come; and before the palace -of Admetus a grim contest is in progress. Guarding the -door with his splendid presence is the great Sun-god -himself, making a last stand against Hades, lord of the dead, -who has come in person from the Underworld to claim his -victim. He may not use force against this shadowy king; -but with all the strength of persuasion he pleads for Alcestis’ -life. “My heart is heavy for my friend’s mischance,” he -says; and tries to touch the obdurate spirit by the thought -of this noble wife’s youth and goodness. But Death will -yield no jot to his entreaty; and as Apollo reluctantly -gives place to him, vanquished for the moment, he flings a -threat at the great Enemy.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Surely thou shalt forbear, though ruthless thou,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>So mighty a man to Pheres’ halls shall come,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Sent of Eurystheus forth, the courser-car</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>From winter-dreary lands of Thrace to bring.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Guest-welcomed in Admetus’ palace here,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>By force yon woman shall he wrest from thee.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Yea, thou of me shalt have no thank for this,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And yet shalt do it, and shalt have mine hate.</em>“<a id='r29' /><a href='#f29' class='c011'><sup>[29]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The prophecy contains a gleam of wild hope; but Death -passes on unheeding, and there gather slowly before the -doors the friends who have been summoned to mourn for -the dying queen. They are awed by the hush that lies -upon the house, and hardly know how to interpret it. -Perhaps it means that Alcestis is already dead, they conjecture; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_217'>217</span>and that the funeral train has left the palace. -Yet this can hardly be.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Would the king without pomp of procession have yielded the Grave the possession</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of so dear, of so faithful an one?</em><a href='#f29' class='c011'><sup>[29]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>No, they would rather surmise that Alcestis is living still; -and as one of the queen’s maids comes out, they beg eagerly -for news. The girl tells them through tears that her -mistress does indeed still live, but that the end is very -near. Even now, in quiet courage, the queen is performing -all the needful rites.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>For when she knew that the appointed day</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Was come, in river-water her white skin</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>She bathed, and from the cedar chests took forth</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Vesture and jewels, and decked her gloriously,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And stood before the hearth and prayed....</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To all the altars through Admetus’ halls</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>She went, with wreaths she hung them, and she prayed,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Plucking the while the tresses of the myrtle,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Tearless, unsighing, and the imminent fate</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Changed not the lovely rose-tint of her cheek.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Then to her bower she rushed, fell on the bed,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And there, O there she wept....</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And the babes clinging to their mother’s robes</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Were weeping: and she clasped them in her arms,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Fondling now this, now that, as one death-doomed.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And all the servants ‘neath the roof were weeping,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Pitying their lady. But to each she stretched</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Her right hand forth; and none there was so mean</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To whom she spake not and received reply.</em><a href='#f29' class='c011'><sup>[29]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The maid goes on to tell of Admetus’ grief. Clasping his -wife in his arms, he begs her not to leave him. But she is -growing rapidly weaker, and his entreaties hardly pierce -the darkness that is settling down on mind and body. She -<span class='pageno' id='Page_218'>218</span>craves for air and light, just to look once more on the -glorious sun, and feel the breath of heaven. As Admetus -carries her out, followed by their two young children, she -utters one bitter cry of regret for all the beauty that she -must leave:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in4'>“<em>O Sun, and the day’s dear light,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And ye clouds through the wheeling heaven in the race everlasting flying!...</em></div> - <div class='line in4'><em>O Land, O stately height</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of mine halls, and my bridal couch in Iolkos my fatherland lying!</em>“<a href='#f29' class='c011'><sup>[29]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Then the presence of imminent death rises on her fading -sight. She sees the sinister Ferryman Charon beckoning -with impatient finger, and she hears him calling her to -hasten.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Hades is near, and the night</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Is darkening down on my sight.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Darlings, farewell: on the light</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Long may ye look:—I have blessed ye</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Ere your mother to nothingness fleet.</em>“<a href='#f29' class='c011'><sup>[29]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>There has been no word of farewell to Admetus yet; and -now she gathers strength for the last thing that must be -said to him. Perhaps she has been waiting, all through -his evident grief and broken words of devotion, for some -hint of awakening to a nobler spirit. Perhaps she has -longed, in hope that she knew to be vain, for one word of -remorse, one flash of protest, though it were too late, -against the sacrifice that she is making. But Admetus -gives no sign; he is absorbed in his own suffering; and we -seem to hear, all through the solemn charge which the -dying lips lay upon him, a note of pain.</p> -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_219'>219</span>“<em>Admetus—for thou seest all my plight—</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Fain would I speak mine heart’s wish, ere I die.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I, honouring thee, and setting thee in place</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Before mine own soul still to see this light,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Am dying, unconstrained to die for thee....</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Yet she that bare, he that begat, forsook thee,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Though fair for death their time of life was come,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Yea, fair to save their son and die renowned.</em></div> - <div class='line in10'><em>... For these thy babes thou lovest</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>No less than I, if that thy heart be right,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Suffer that they have lordship in mine home:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Wed not a stepdame to supplant our babes,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Whose heart shall tell her she is no Alcestis,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Whose jealous hand shall smite them, thine and mine....</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>For I must die, nor shall it be to morn,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Nor on the third day comes on me this bane,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Straightway of them that are not shall I be.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Farewell, be happy. Now for thee, my lord,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Abides the boast to have won the noblest wife,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>For you, my babes, to have sprung from noblest mother.</em>“<a href='#f29' class='c011'><sup>[29]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Admetus promises all, and more, than she asks. He will -never wed again, but will mourn her always. There shall -be no more revelry in Pheræ; he will not touch his lyre -again, nor sing. Her death has robbed his life of mirth; -and all his longing will be to come to her.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Yet there look thou for me whenso I die:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Prepare a home, as who shall dwell with me.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>For in the selfsame cedar-chest, wherein</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Thou liest, will I bid them lay my bones</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Outstretched beside thee: ne’er may I be severed,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>No, not in death, from thee, my one true friend.</em>“<a href='#f29' class='c011'><sup>[29]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The eager protestations bring some comfort to her passing -spirit, and she tenderly commends the children to him. -Then:</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Alces.</span><span class='pageno' id='Page_220'>220</span></span> - <em>Dark—dark—mine eyes are drooping, heavy-laden.</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Admet.</span></span> - <em>O, I am lost if thou wilt leave me, wife!</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Alces.</span></span> - <em>No more—I am no more....</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'> </span> - <em>Farewell.</em><a href='#f29' - class='c011'><sup>[29]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>Amid the wailing of her children, and the mournful chant -of the Chorus, the body of Alcestis is carried into the house, -Admetus following to prepare the funeral rites.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The scene then quickly changes, lifting the gloom of death -for a moment. The mourning ode rises, in vague sweet -longing for power to bring Alcestis back from the grave. -And hardly has it ceased when there arrives at the palace, -claiming hospitality in cheery confidence, Heracles the -hero of many toils, and the destined deliverer of Alcestis. -He is a creature of immense interest to the people gathered -around the doors, for are not his valour and endurance -known and marvelled at throughout the whole of Greece? -He is weary with travel, but he hails<a id='p220'></a> them blithely, asking -for the king; and when they ply him with questions, he -tells all his errand with free good-nature. His taskmaster, -Eurystheus King of Tiryns, has laid yet another labour -upon him, harder and more perilous than all the rest. He -is commanded to go to wintry Thrace, the land of the -Bistones, and capture from King Diomedes there the -fierce man-eating mares that draw his chariot. The -Chorus, enthralled by his story, remind him of the prowess -of the man whom he must conquer, and that he is descended -from the God of War himself. But the hero replies that -he will not shrink from the task; only, as he has already -come far upon his journey, he needs rest and refreshment -first. He comes unhesitatingly to his friend Admetus, -knowing from of old his unfailing hospitality; and there is -about the hero such a glow of exuberant life and strength, his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_221'>221</span>history and his present adventure are things so fascinating -to his hearers, that they have for the moment completely -forgotten the sorrow that weighs upon their royal master. -No single word of it has been uttered when Admetus -himself, apprised of his friend’s arrival, comes out of the -palace to welcome him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>An embarrassed silence falls upon the mourners. They -know that they should have made known to Heracles at -once the calamity which had befallen Pheræ in the loss of -their queen. Then he could have sought the bounty of -some other house, and the grief of their king need not have -been intruded upon. But while they have been lost in -eager talk, an attendant has called Admetus; and on him -now will fall the cruel pain of announcing the death of his -wife and—what will be even worse—of declining hospitality -to his friend. They stand in suspense as Heracles, after -the first greeting is over, exclaims in astonishment at the -signs of mourning that Admetus is wearing. But as it -quickly becomes evident that the king is evading the -questions of his guest and does not intend to reveal to him -the nature of the grief that has fallen on his home, their -suspense is turned to wonder and carping. Heracles asks -anxiously about children and parents and wife, even -touching upon the far-famed vow of Alcestis to die for her -husband. But every question is successfully parried by the -king; and the guest is at last prevailed upon to enter the -house, believing that only some distant kinswoman is dead, -for whom perfunctory mourning and formal rites are in -progress. The sense of propriety in these conventional -old men is roughly shaken: they cannot see that the -magnitude of the king’s sorrow has dwarfed the petty -things of use and custom. Only great things remain—love -<span class='pageno' id='Page_222'>222</span>and duty pre-eminent; and Admetus knows that his -dear dead would not grudge this imperative present task. -So, when the senators complain of his action, he gives them -a simple answer:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>But had I driven him from my home and city</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Who came my guest, then hadst thou praised me more?</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Nay, sooth; for mine affliction so had grown</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>No less, and more inhospitable I;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And to my ills were added this beside,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>That this my home were called ‘Guest-hating Hall.’</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Yea, and myself have proved him kindliest host</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Whene’er to Argos’ thirsty plain I fared.</em>“<a href='#f29' class='c011'><sup>[29]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>But now there comes in sight a procession bearing burial -gifts, headed by the old parents of the king. At their -entrance there is an abrupt change of tone, a descent from -the ideal standpoint, and a violent clash of character which -make for acrid realism in the scene which follows. It is -one of mutual recrimination between father and son, each -blaming the other for the cowardice which the onlooker -can perceive in both. As the procession halts before his -door, Admetus drops to the dead level of existence from -the height of great emotion. He hates the formal troop -of mourners: the gifts by which they seek to honour the -peerless spirit of his wife: the trite phrases of consolation -which are belied in the uttering by the hardness of voice -and eye. He hates the very presence of his father, reminding -him, as it does, that they both of them alike have -cowered for safety under the sacrifice of a woman. And -when, in the selfishness of an unlovely old age, Pheres praises -the act of Alcestis because it leaves him the protection of his -son, the wrath and shame in the heart of Admetus break -out into unreasonable railing against his father.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_223'>223</span>“<em>Thou grieve!—Thou shouldst have grieved in my death hour!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Thou stoodst aloof—the old, didst leave the young</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To die:—and wilt thou wail upon this corpse?</em>“<a href='#f29' class='c011'><sup>[29]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The retort is obvious, and pointed with caustic truth: -Pheres does not spare his son, and although there is fierce -malignance in his speech, there is justice in it too.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Shamelessly thou hast fought against thy death:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Thy life is but transgression of thy doom,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And murder of thy wife.</em>“<a href='#f29' class='c011'><sup>[29]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The torrent of scorn that he pours upon Admetus: the -merciless exposure of his timidity, the gibes at his base -love of life, cannot but sweep away the moorings which held -the king to his self-respect. But pride and anger struggle -fiercely against humiliation; and the unseemly quarrel -rages on, despite voices interposed in a vain effort at -conciliation, until the funeral train emerges from the -palace. Then father and son, shamed to silence, follow the -body of Alcestis to its burial, while the Chorus chants:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Alas for the loving and daring!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Farewell to the noblest and best!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>May Hermes conduct thee down-faring</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Kindly, and Hades to rest</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Receive thee! If any atonement</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>For ills even there may betide</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To the good, O thine be enthronement</em></div> - <div class='line in10'><em>By Hades’ bride.</em>“<a href='#f29' class='c011'><sup>[29]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Meantime Heracles, with mind at perfect ease concerning -the fortunes of his host, had been feasting and making -merry within the palace. Rooms apart had been assigned -to him; precautions had been taken that he should not be -disturbed by the sounds of mourning, and the servants had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_224'>224</span>been warned not to betray to him what was passing. So -in all good faith he had given himself up to jollity, scandalizing -the man who waited on him until the honest -fellow could bear it no longer, and flung himself sulkily out -of the house. He is followed soon by Heracles himself, -who cannot comprehend the reason for the servant’s gloom -and chides him good-humouredly. Why such excessive -grief for a woman alien-born? he asks. Surely such sullen -service is not worthy either of master or of guest.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At first the man is reticent, fearing to offend the king. -But pressed by Heracles, he presently reveals that it is not -a stranger who is dead, but the queen herself; and that -even now the funeral train is returning from the grave.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Heracles is overwhelmed with sorrow for his friend and -contrition for his own untimely revelling. For a few -moments he stands heaping reproaches on himself, and on -the servants for their silence; but he is not long inactive. -The generosity of Admetus fires his own heart; and his -thought leaps impetuously to an act of tremendous daring. -He will face the power of Death himself, and wrest Alcestis -from him. He puts rapid questions to the man concerning -the place of burial, calls up every resource of energy and -endurance, and nerves himself for his grim task by a determination -to requite Admetus worthily.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>... I must save the woman newly dead,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And set Alcestis in this house again,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And render to Admetus good for good.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I go. The sable-vestured King of Corpses,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Death, will I watch for, and shall find, I trow,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Drinking the death-draught hard beside the tomb.</em></div> - <div class='line in10'><em>... I doubt not I shall lead</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Alcestis up, and give to mine host’s hands,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Who to his halls received, nor drave me thence,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Albeit smitten with affliction sore,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>But did it, like a prince, respecting me.</em>“<a href='#f29' class='c011'><sup>[29]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div id='ALCESTIS' class='figcenter id003'> -<img src='images/i_249.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic001'> -<p>HERCULES’ STRUGGLE WITH DEATH FOR ALCESTIS<br /><br /><em>Lord Leighton</em><br /><br /><em>By permission of the Fine Art Society, Ltd.</em></p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_225'>225</span>As Heracles departs in search of Alcestis’ tomb, the mourners -are seen approaching, led by Admetus, alone. A profound -change has come upon the king. His ignoble anger has -vanished: no word more is heard of the petulant reproach of -his parents: nothing of the old arrogant claim on life which -had blinded his soul and hardened his heart. Humbled -now, and remorseful, he sees that death were infinitely -preferable to life at the price that he has paid. Something -had given him sight as he stood beside Alcestis’ tomb. He -had tried to cast himself down to die beside her; but friends -had restrained him, and now as he stands before the home -that he dare not enter, he makes a pitiful confession—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Friends, I account the fortune of my wife</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Happier than mine, albeit it seems not so.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>For nought of grief shall touch her any more,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And glorious rest she finds from many toils.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>But I, unmeet to live, my doom outrun,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Shall drag out bitter days: I know it now.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>How shall I bear to enter this my home?</em>“<a href='#f29' class='c011'><sup>[29]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The bystanders try to persuade him to go in, but he lingers -through the beautiful choral ode that is raised in praise of -Alcestis. They sing of the worship and honour that will -be paid at her tomb as at a shrine; and as the long hymn -is drawing to a close, Heracles is seen to be returning, -leading a woman closely veiled. The king, standing in -quiet despair, utters no word of greeting to his guest, and -the Chorus wait in silent wonder for an explanation. A -strange awe falls upon them; and Heracles, beginning in -gentle gravity to reproach the king for want of confidence -in him, turns presently to the veiled figure at his side. Will -<span class='pageno' id='Page_226'>226</span>the king take and guard this maid for him, until he shall -return from Thrace? She is a prize awarded him for great -toil, and Admetus will do well to care for her.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But the king recoils at the thought. How can he receive a -young and beautiful woman into his house without pain to -himself and shame to her? He protests that it is unthinkable, -and begs Heracles to take her elsewhere. She would -be a constant reminder of his grief, and an insult to the -memory of his wife. Until this moment he has hardly -glanced at the silent figure by the hero’s side, except to -notice that her rich vestments proclaim her young. But -something in her appearance seizes his attention; and -he proceeds, rapidly and in great agitation:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in16'>“<em>But, woman, thou,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Whoso thou art, know that thy body’s stature</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Is as Alcestis, and thy form as hers.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Ah me!—lead, for the Gods’ sake, from my sight</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>This woman!—Take not my captivity captive.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>For as I look on her, methinks I see</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>My wife. She stirs my heart with turmoil: fountains</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of tears burst from mine eyes. O wretched I!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Now taste I first this grief’s full bitterness.</em>“<a href='#f29' class='c011'><sup>[29]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>It is Alcestis’ very self, won back from death as Apollo had -promised; but with the awful silence of the tomb still -upon her. Heracles places her hand in that of the reluctant -and incredulous king, while he draws aside her veil:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in10'>“<em>Yea, guard her. Thou shalt call</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The child of Zeus one day a noble guest.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Look on her, if in aught she seems to thee</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Like to thy wife. Step forth from grief to bliss.</em>“<a href='#f29' class='c011'><sup>[29]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class='c012' /> - -<div class='footnote' id='f28'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r28'>28</a>. </span>From <em>The Life and Death of Jason</em>, by William Morris (Longmans).</p> -</div> - -<div class='footnote' id='f29'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r29'>29</a>. </span>From the <cite>Alcestis</cite> of Euripides, translated by Dr. A. S. Way (Loeb -Classical Library: London, Heinemann).</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_227'>227</span> - <h2 class='c005'><em>Euripides: Medea</em></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_4 c009'>Only eighteen dramas are extant of the seventy-five -which Euripides is known to have written. -And an interesting small fact is that the two -earliest of these surviving dramas are the -<cite>Alcestis</cite> and the <cite>Medea</cite>, produced respectively in 438 <span class='fss'>B.C.</span> -and 431 <span class='fss'>B.C.</span> Each of the two has a woman for the -protagonist, and both have love for their central theme. -To that extent therefore they are similar, and represent -certain clear features of Euripidean drama as a whole.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We have already noted the poet’s interest in womanhood: -his keen and careful study of feminine character. He was -no less occupied with the influence of love in human life; -but on both themes he was clear-eyed and penetrative, -aspiring always to the ‘white star of truth.’ Therefore we -do not find in his drama a troop of faultless women, moving -in an atmosphere of romantic glamour; nor a treatment -of love which reveals only the more beautiful aspects of it. -He seems to have been content to acknowledge, as for -instance in the <cite>Alcestis</cite> and the lost <cite>Andromeda</cite>, that life’s -flowers do sometimes, given the right conditions, come to -fair fruition. But he saw how often they are warped and -blighted; and though he would not hide the grimmer -facts, he was always careful to seek and show the cause of -the aberration. Hence, though the truth of his presentation -is sometimes merciless, and may have given colour to -the contemporary gossip which called him a ‘woman-hater,’ -one glance below the surface of his thought shows -him to have been inspired by a nobler chivalry than that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_228'>228</span>which is content to veil the facts of life in romantic illusion. -So we find that although both the <cite>Alcestis</cite> and the <cite>Medea</cite> -are preoccupied with the theme of love, there is a vivid -contrast in the treatment of the theme, despite certain -resemblances between the two dramas. It is true that -both of the heroines are pre-eminent in devotion to the -men with whom they are mated; and that the hero in each -case moves on a plane from which he cannot reach the -height of his wife’s spirit. But whilst on the one hand -love takes possession of a gentle nature, and favoured by -every circumstance of character and environment triumphs -over death itself, in the case of Medea a wild soul spends -itself recklessly for the object of its love, beats impotently -against injustice, loses hold on sanity and sweet human ties, -and is transformed into an avenging fury.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The story of Medea belongs to the old Argo legend, which -was made into poetry by Apollonius Rhodius in the first -century before Christ, and by our own Victorian poet -Morris in <em>The Life and Death of Jason</em>.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Jason, the exiled heir to the throne of Iolchos, was reared by -the centaur Chiron. Arrived at manhood, he determined -to claim his right from his usurping uncle Pelias; and -travelling to Iolchos on foot, he presented himself before -the king minus a sandal. Now Pelias had been warned -against a man who should come to him with one foot bare; -and, moreover, he had no intention of yielding up the -throne to his nephew. He therefore cast about for some -means of ridding himself of Jason, and hit upon the plan -of sending him on a wild and dangerous quest—to seek and -bring the Golden Fleece from the barbarous land of Colchis. -Jason gladly undertook the task: gathered the Greek heroes -together and sailed with them in the good ship <em>Argo</em>.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_229'>229</span>After a perilous voyage, the heroes arrived at Colchis, and -Jason made known their quest to the king Aeêtes. But -they soon found that they had no hope of success. Aeêtes -was false to them, made impossible conditions, and plotted -against their life. Disaster seemed imminent, when there -came a deliverance so glorious that it seemed like the -interposition of a god. It was the quick wit of a girl, -prompted by love. Medea, the young daughter of Aeêtes, -had seen and loved the brave Greek prince whom her -father now plotted to destroy. She was an ardent and -impulsive creature; and she determined to save Jason. By -the magic lore that she possessed, she secretly enabled him -to overcome the fire-breathing oxen, and the earth-sown -army that her father sent against him. Then, realizing -too late that she had incurred the unpitying rage of her -father, she fled at night from the palace, to take refuge -with the Greek heroes.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>She kissed her bed, and her hands on the walls with loving caress</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Lingered; she kissed the posts of the doors; and one long tress</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>She severed, and left it her bower within, for her mother to be</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>A memorial of maidenhood’s days, and with passionate voice moaned she.</em><a id='r30' /><a href='#f30' class='c011'><sup>[30]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Under cover of the darkness, she led Jason to the forest-precinct -where the Fleece was hidden; and by her -charms she lulled the sleepless dragon that guarded it. -She even betrayed to him her brother Absyrtus, driven by -the danger of a horrible death for herself, her lover and -his comrades; and then, claiming from Jason a solemn -oath of marriage when they should come to Hellas, she -sailed with him on the <em>Argo</em>. Aeêtes pursued them in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_230'>230</span>fierce wrath; and the gods, offended for the murder of -Absyrtus, vexed them with storms. But at length they -came to the island of Circe; and she, for the sake of her -kinship with Medea, purified them of the murder of -Absyrtus and set them on their way again. At Phæacia, -where they were driven for harbourage, Aeêtes overtook -them, threatening war with King Alcinous if he did not -yield up his fugitive daughter. It was then that the great -wise queen Arete pleaded for Medea in gentle charity:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>In madness she sinned at the first, when she gave him the charm that should tame</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The bulls; and with wrong to amend that wrong,—Ay, oftimes the same</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>In our sinning we do!—she straightway essayed; and shrinking in fear</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>From her proud sire’s tyrannous wrath, she fled. Now the man, as I hear,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>This Jason, is hound by mighty oaths which his own lips said,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>When he pledged him to make her, his halls within, his wife true-wed.</em>“<a href='#f30' class='c011'><sup>[30]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Alcinous yielded to his wife’s entreaties on one condition—that -Jason and Medea should be married forthwith; for -then he could return answer to Aeêtes that he would not -separate husband and wife. Thus the two were hurriedly -wedded; and sailed in safety from Phæacia, to encounter -many a terrible adventure before they reached Iolchos at -last, triumphing in the possession of the Fleece. They -gained great glory from their enterprise, but little else. -For Pelias would not yield the throne to Jason; and it -seemed to Medea that all she had wrought had been in -vain. She brooded over Jason’s wrongs, chafing at the -restraint imposed on her in her new life, and eager to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_231'>231</span>strike for the kingship on his behalf. At last she evolved a -plan by which she thought Pelias might be removed from -their path, and the throne secured for Jason. Promising -the old king renewed youth by means of her enchantments, -she induced him to submit to death at the hands of his -daughters. Then, in the storm of indignation which arose -against her, she and Jason and their two young children -fled to Corinth.</p> - -<p class='c000'>So the legend runs to the point where Euripides takes it -up. In crude outline it is savage and incredible; and yet -it contains all the elements which in the hands of idealistic -poets have made a story of enthralling romantic beauty. -In the <cite>Medea</cite>, however, the poet has avoided so far as -might be both the barbarity of the legend and its potential -charm. He has treated only the final catastrophe—the -abandonment of Medea by Jason and her dreadful vengeance -upon him. And although he could not escape from the -data: although he is compelled to handle some of the most -barbarous of them, he has translated them from terms of -glimmering wonder and breathless excitement into the -language of reality. He has brought Medea out of the -region of myth, where she dwelt in eerie and tempestuous -beauty, into the stream of human existence. The marvellous -and the superhuman drop away, save for a fragment -or two in the framework of the Drama; and Medea becomes -simply a woman, struggling against her own wild heart and -the injustice of her oppressors.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Drama opens with the monologue of Medea’s old -nurse, from which we learn all that is vital to an understanding -of the action. Jason has forsaken Medea and is -about to marry with Glaucé, the young daughter of Creon, -King of Corinth. Medea is sick with misery and is lying -<span class='pageno' id='Page_232'>232</span>in the house prostrate on her bed. Two things the old -woman makes quite clear, as she stands talking outside: -that the chief cause of Medea’s grief is shame at her -betrayal; and that already the storm of passion is tending -toward madness. When an attendant comes in, bringing -Jason’s children back from their play, there is a clear hint -of the catastrophe. The man tells of a rumour that he has -heard: Creon has ordered the banishment of their mistress -and her boys. The nurse breaks into a wail of commiseration, -and then clearly states her fear for the effect of this -new wrong upon Medea’s mind. She sends the little ones -in before she speaks the dread she has that their mother -may lift her hand against their lives; and almost immediately -afterward the frenzied voice of Medea is heard, calling -bitter curses upon her unfathered children.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There gather gradually the ladies of Corinth who form the -Chorus. They are deeply sympathetic; and they give -pitying answers to the nurse’s tale; while within the house, -at intervals, Medea’s voice is heard, wailing her grief and -anger, and the old remorse that has reawakened for her -brother’s death.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Virgin of Righteousness,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Virgin of hallowed Troth,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Ye marked me when with an oath</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I bound him; mark no less</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>That oath’s end. Give me to see</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Him and his bride, who sought</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>My grief when I wronged her not,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Broken in misery,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And all her house.</em>“<a id='r31' /><a href='#f31' class='c011'><sup>[31]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The scene is one of weird impressiveness. So far, Medea -has not appeared; but her cries within the house, the -appearance of her children, the indignant fidelity of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_233'>233</span>old servants, the beautiful lyrics of the Chorus, and, above -all, the knowledge we possess that another blow is about to -fall on her, produce a cumulative effect which makes the -moment of her entrance intensely dramatic. Yet she -begins her speech quietly, almost in apology for her former -unrestraint. She strives for self-control while she puts her -case before the Corinthian women and begs their help. -For a moment or two she succeeds, pathetically acknowledging -her foreign birth and the flaw it intrudes in the -legality of her marriage. But at this thought, emotion -sweeps over her again:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in10'>“<em>...I dazzle where I stand,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The cup of all life shattered in my hand,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Longing to die—O friends! He, even he,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Whom to know well was all the world to me,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The man I loved, hath proved most evil.</em>“<a href='#f31' class='c011'><sup>[31]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>She pours out her heart to the listeners; and it is not a -mere selfish recital of her own sorrow. The brain that had -been clear and quick to save her lover in the extremity of -danger has not lost its power. She sees the base act of -Jason in its broad aspect, as a wrong to womankind; and -she rises from the contemplation of her personal suffering -to the thought that this, after all, is but one of the many -evils that subjection brings upon women. But the greatest -evil—the helpless creature goaded to crime by injustice—is -present to her at this moment only as a blind craving for -revenge. It will seize and carry her on to its culmination -as the sweetest thing that life now holds; but it will -finally reveal itself, since she cannot but face the truth, as -the last and deepest wrong, that has cancelled her humanity. -The light of that thought has not yet dawned; and will -not until the storm of passion has wrought sheer havoc. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_234'>234</span>All her fervent nature is possessed by the idea of vengeance; -and seeing that her friends pity and sympathize, she -pledges them not to betray her. Their willing promise is -only just in time, for they are interrupted by the arrival of -the king, guarded by armed attendants whose very presence -is a menace. Creon is old, and has grown hard and -tyrannous with age. He has long desired a great match for -his only daughter, hoping to see his line established on the -throne of Corinth before his death. To him the marriage -with the Argonaut hero is not only a prudent step, likely -to bring him reflected glory; but a thing perfectly right -in itself, because perfectly legal. By the letter of the law, -which forbade a Greek to marry a ‘barbarian,’ Medea was -not Jason’s wife; and the letter of the law merely was of -concern to Creon. To him Medea was an uncivilized creature -from outland parts: a being without rights, who might -safely be ignored; and having won over Jason, the match -was arranged and the preliminary formalities concluded. -Not until a rumour reached him that Medea in her wrath -had solemnly cursed his child and him, did any thought -of her disturb him. Then, fearing that she might indeed -do his daughter some injury, or at the least might move -public opinion in her favour, he determined upon instant -banishment for her and her two young sons. Without a -word to soften or explain his action, he stands before Medea -now, and curtly orders her to prepare for departure.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The blow is so crushing that for a moment Medea seems to -sink under it; she can think of nothing but to ask what -crime of hers has merited this punishment. But when -Creon cynically replies that there has been no crime, and -that the measure is one of precaution merely, to guard -himself against her reputation for magic-lore, she rallies her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_235'>235</span>wit and meets him on his own ground. Half ironically, she -repudiates the damning possession of brains, and bids him -set his mind at rest.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>’Tis not the first nor second time, O King,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>That fame hath hurt me....</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Come unto fools with knowledge of new things,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>They deem it vanity, not knowledge....</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Ah, I am not so wondrous wise!—And now,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To thee, I am terrible! What fearest thou?</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>What dire deed? Do I tread so proud a path—</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Fear me not thou!—that I should brave the wrath</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of princes?</em>“<a href='#f31' class='c011'><sup>[31]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Creon sees that she is trying to placate him, and harshly -repeats his decree. He even threatens her, when she continues -her entreaties, with force from his soldiery; and Medea, -shrinking in horror from the thought of personal violence, -instantly ceases her petition. She pretends to yield; and -in feigned humility, begs on her knees for one day’s respite. -Creon, partly deceived, and entirely convinced that she -can do no harm in so short a time, reluctantly consents. -But he has hardly gone when Medea breaks into a torrent -of speech which, in its fierce exultation over Creon, its wild -leap to the height of daring and its rallying cry to her own -spirit, comes very near to madness. All the shapeless -thoughts of vengeance on which she had brooded spring -into vivid life as she rapidly cons now this plot, now that, -to reach her end. Of the end itself there can be no doubt; -she must kill these three—the king, and Jason and his -bride—in the few hours left to her. And for this she will -need every resource of strategy and courage.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Awake thee now, Medea! Whatso plot</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Thou hast, or cunning, strive and falter not.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em><span class='pageno' id='Page_236'>236</span>On to the peril-point! Now comes the strain</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of daring. Shall they trample thee again?</em>“<a href='#f31' class='c011'><sup>[31]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>No wonder that the Chorus sing, as she rushes into the -house, of a strange reversal of all the order of nature; of -woman made terrible because man has forgotten God. -They take up the story of Medea’s broken life: of the -wonder and the pity of it: of her distant home: of her -surpassing love for Jason, and of her betrayal. In the -beauty and grace of the songs the emotional strain is -lightened: but they have a further purpose. For while -they tell the old story over in tender phrases, Jason himself -enters and Medea again comes out of the house. The two -stand face to face at last and the crux of the drama is -reached. Jason is the first to speak; and one feels all the -spirit of the man in his opening words—cold, ambitious, -prudent, with ideals faded and every generous emotion -dead. He protests that he has acted from motives of -policy and considerations of their best interest: for the -welfare of Medea and their children as well as for himself. -The new marriage was the only way, in a land to which they -were strangers, to secure a home for them all, and princely -connexions for his sons. But Medea has spoiled everything -by her ungovernable anger: and he has come, since -nothing else is possible now, to make provision for the -children in their exile.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The speech is clear, terse, moderate in tone, and pitilessly -logical from Jason’s point of view. From that point, too, -it is not unkind: he wishes to do what may be done to -soften their lot. But to the woman who loves him his -words are a mere blur of sound, the logic meaningless, the -untroubled manner a thing of contempt. In tone and look -and gesture one fact is certain—that her husband has -<span class='pageno' id='Page_237'>237</span>ceased to love her, and is content to cast her off. It has -clamoured in her ears while he spoke, drowning every other -sound; and when she replies it is that which prompts her. -It inspires her great indictment—the case for the woman -against injustice throughout all time—and it evokes a -shuddering recoil from baseness which she feels to be -literally a pollution.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Evil—most Evil ...</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I will begin with that, ‘twixt me and thee,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>That first befell. I saved thee. I saved thee—</em></div> - <div class='line in20'><em>... And hast thou then</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Accepted all—O evil yet again!—</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And cast me off and taken for thy bride</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Another? And with children at thy side!</em></div> - <div class='line in20'><em>... Is sworn faith so low</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And weak a thing? I understand it not.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Are the old gods dead? Are the old laws forgot,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And new laws made? ...</em></div> - <div class='line in14'><em>... O great God, shall gold withal</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Bear thy clear mark, to sift the base and fine,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And o’er man’s living visage runs no sign</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To show the lie within, ere all too late?</em>“<a href='#f31' class='c011'><sup>[31]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Jason’s anger is stung by her denunciation, but his purpose -is quite unmoved. He flings a veiled insult at her -love; and as he elaborates the reasons for his action, with -no little skill and plausibility, we feel that with every -word the conflict becomes more deadly. In apparent -good faith, but with intolerable effrontery to the injured -woman, he claims to have repaid that old debt, if -indeed it were a debt. He has given her a home in an -ordered country and her name has been linked in the -glory of his. As to the marriage with Glaucé—with a -sneer at the bare idea of sentiment—the affair is a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_238'>238</span>bargain, with consideration given and received on each -side. Let Medea look at the matter for one instant with -the eyes of reason, and she herself will acknowledge that he -has acted wisely.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But the very root of the tragedy lay there. Medea could -no more detach herself from the emotion that possessed -her than Jason could revive the tenderness that filled him -when he lifted the sweet wild fugitive on board the <em>Argo</em>. -So they stand, typifying the eternal struggle between the -passionate heart and the arrogant brain; and striking at -each other in baffled rage across the gulf between them. -Jason makes one last offer of help, but it is vehemently -refused, and with a final thrust at Medea’s savagery, he -leaves her. When he has gone, the inevitable reaction -comes. The Chorus, interpreting her mood, sing musingly -of the pains of exile, and of her lonely state. She realizes -that she has flung away her only chance of help, and she -sees herself in a few hours expelled from Corinth without -one friend to shelter her. Despair is settling upon her -when a curious incident occurs, suddenly reviving hope and -making the path clear for her revenge. It is the arrival of -Ægeus, King of Athens. He is travelling back from -Apollo’s shrine at Delphi, where he has been to renew an -old petition that the god would give him children. Medea, -thinking rapidly, questions him of his errand. She sees a -possibility of succour; and putting all her wrongs before -him, she begs him to give her refuge at Athens. He shall -not fail of a reward, for she has magic arts which will secure -to him his long desire for children. Ægeus is indignant -at her wrongs, and promises to succour her if she -comes to him; but knowing what she is about to do, -she cunningly extorts an oath from him. He gives it -willingly, and as he departs Medea breaks into a cry of -exultation:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>God, and God’s Justice, and ye blinding Skies,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>At last the victory dawneth!</em>“<a href='#f31' class='c011'><sup>[31]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div id='MEDEA' class='figcenter id003'> -<img src='images/i_265.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic001'> -<p>MEDEA & ABSYRTUS<br /><br /><em>Herbert Draper</em><br /><br /><em>By permission of the Corporation Art Gallery of Bradford</em></p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_239'>239</span>Quickly she lays her plan. She will recall Jason, feign -repentance, and send the children to the bride with gifts—marvellous -raiment and jewels which will hide under their -beauty an agonizing death for Glaucé. But that done—she -pauses in horror, the sweetness of revenge dashed by -the thought of what must follow. Then, she must lift her -hand to slay her children, before they can be caught and -killed for their mother’s crime. There is a short altercation -with the friendly women about her, who make a futile -effort to restrain her. But brushing aside their remonstrance, -she sends the nurse for Jason, and in a scene which -vibrates with dramatic power, she pretends to make peace -with him, and puts the frightful revenge in motion. Jason, -completely deceived, promises that the children shall be -taken to Glaucé, to present their gifts and beg for leave to -stay in Corinth. But twice, as the little ones stand waiting, -the motherhood in Medea rebels against the fury that is -driving her. Tears that she cannot check rush into her -eyes, and she almost forgets her <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">rôle</span>, as she clasps them to -her.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in24'>“<em>Shall it be</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>A long time more, my children, that ye live</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To reach to me those dear, dear arms? ... Forgive.</em>“<a href='#f31' class='c011'><sup>[31]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>And again when Jason, softened by her submission, is -promising to lead them up to an honoured manhood, a -sudden movement of Medea arrests him. He cannot -understand her grief, and the strangeness of her manner; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_240'>240</span>and asks her if she doubts that he will act in good faith -toward their children.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Medea.</span></span> - <em>I was their mother! When I heard thy prayer<br />Of long life for them, there swept - over me<br />A horror, wondering how these things shall be.</em><a href='#f31' - class='c011'><sup>[31]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>But the gentler mood passes, and when Jason, with characteristic -canniness, counsels her not to send such precious -gifts to his bride, the spirit of vengeance has regained -possession of her soul. She overrules him, and Jason leads -the children to the princess, carrying in their innocent -hands the weapon that will slay her. Not until they are -gone does Medea realize fully what the next step must be; -and the realization brings agony. She waits for their -return in a storm of emotion: suspense that almost stops -the beating of her heart: hideous hope that her plot has -succeeded and that Glaucé even now is dying from the -poison; and ghastly fear that her children have been taken -for the deed. But when they return at last, in unconscious -gladness that the great lady has been kind to them, it is -something more awful still that robs their mother of power -of utterance. The children’s tutor is amazed at the grief -that he sees is racking her, and asks its cause.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Medea.</span></span> - <em>For bitter need, Old Man! The gods have willed,<br />And mine own evil mind, that - this should come.</em><a href='#f31' class='c011'><sup>[31]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>And as the man goes in, leaving her alone with her boys, a -poignant scene follows in which every instinct of her nature -struggles against her wrath. Their sweet young faces stir -the tenderness that has hitherto been bound within her; and -as it floods her heart it seems for a few moments to sweep -away her evil purpose. But it only returns in added -strength, and as her soul writhes in the conflict, reason -<span class='pageno' id='Page_241'>241</span>totters, and she implores the vengeance within, as a living -and implacable foe, to spare her babes. Backward and -forward she sways, driven by hatred and love, until the -scale is turned at last by the thought of her own irrevocable -act. Glaucé, even at this moment, is dying from the -poison that she has sent.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in12'>“<em>Too late, too late!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>By all Hell’s living agonies of hate,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>They shall not take my little ones alive</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To make their mock with! Howso’er I strive</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The thing is doomed....</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Oh, darling hand! Oh, darling mouth, and eye,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And royal mien, and bright brave faces clear,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>May you be blessèd, but not here! What here</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Was yours, your father stole....</em></div> - <div class='line in12'><em>... I am broken by the wings</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of evil.... Yea, I know to what bad things</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I go, but louder than all thought doth cry</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Anger, which maketh man’s worst misery.</em>“<a href='#f31' class='c011'><sup>[31]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>But even yet she cannot strike: one thing more is needed -to nerve her hand, and it comes only too soon. A messenger -is seen flying toward them from the palace in frantic haste. -As he comes within hail, he shouts to Medea to flee—both -Creon and the princess lie dead from the effects of her -poisoned gift, and she has not a moment to lose. Her -own life will surely be demanded for the crime. Medea -remains immovable, smiling in awful joy at the news. She -makes the man relate every detail of the ghastly scene in -the palace; and for just so long as the story takes to tell, -she clasps revenge complete and satisfying. But a moment -later the thing has shrivelled in her hand; for there is now -no hope to save her children.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in10'><span class='pageno' id='Page_242'>242</span>“<em>Oh, up, and get thine armour on,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>My heart!...</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Take up thy sword, O poor right hand of mine,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Thy sword: then onward to the thin-drawn line</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Where life turns agony.</em>”<a href='#f31' class='c011'><sup>[31]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>She goes into the house; and a moment later the shrieks of -the children are heard. They have hardly ceased when -Jason rushes in, bent on carrying off his sons before the -king’s avengers can capture them. A woman warns him of -what is passing within; and as the agonized father bursts -open the door of the house, Medea appears on the roof, in -the dragon-chariot of the Sun, with the poor dead bodies -lying at her feet. There is something weird in this touch -of the supernatural; but there is something symbolic too. For -Medea is a woman no longer: with her own hand, driven -by foul wrong and an untamed heart, she has cast humanity -away.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We need not follow to the end the last clash of the two -bitter spirits. Jason pleads piteously for one poor boon: -“Give me the dead to weep and make their grave.” But -the fury that has smitten him is inexorable.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Never! Myself will lay them in a still</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Green sepulchre....</em></div> - <div class='line in10'><em>... For thee, behold, death draweth on,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Evil and lonely, like thine heart: the hands</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of thine own Argo, rotting where she stands,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Shall smite thine head in twain, and bitter be</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To the last end thy memories of me.</em>“<a href='#f31' class='c011'><sup>[31]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class='c012' /> - -<div class='footnote' id='f30'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r30'>30</a>. </span>From Dr. A. S. Way’s translation of the <cite>Argonautica</cite> (Dent and -Sons Ltd.).</p> -</div> - -<div class='footnote' id='f31'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r31'>31</a>. </span>From Professor Gilbert Murray’s translation of the <cite>Medea</cite> -(George Allen & Co. Ltd.).</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_243'>243</span> - <h2 class='c005'><em>Euripides: Phædra</em></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_4 c009'>The <cite>Hippolytus</cite> of Euripides, to which we turn for -the story of Phædra, is frequently called the -earliest love-tragedy in European literature. -That is to say, it is the first to deal fully and -frankly with the power of love toward tragic issues. This -can hardly be said about the <cite>Medea</cite>, for that drama is only -the last incident of a story wherein love has been changed -to hatred; and the motive is revenge. But in the <cite>Hippolytus</cite> -the story is unfolded from its inception; and Phædra’s -passion is found to be the force that moves the whole action -of the tragedy. This fact has a peculiar attraction for the -modern mind; but the drama has other claims upon us -too. First, for its sheer beauty, as poetry and as dramatic -art of a special type; then, for its accurate study of -character, three people at least gripping our interest as -complete and convincing human creatures; and again, for -its lofty tone and a reflective element which, though -characteristically original, is calm and clear. But the most -wonderful fact of all is the surprising contrast between the -nature of the theme and the austere beauty of the drama -which has been built upon it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The crude facts of the story are almost repulsive on the -face of them. Phædra, the young wife of Theseus, King of -Athens and Trozen, had fallen in love with her husband’s -illegitimate son Hippolytus. That is the initial situation; -and the further data of the old Attic legend do not soften -it. For we know that Phædra’s love was unrequited, a -fact which, with curious unreason, seems to accuse her; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_244'>244</span>and we know too that when her love was betrayed to -Hippolytus, she took her own life in shame and fear, first -making a false charge against him which she knew would -bring upon him the punishment of death.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Such, in harsh outline, is the story of unhappy love and -wild impulse which has been made by this poet who was -before all things a seeker of truth, into a work of supreme -spiritual beauty. More wonderful still, Phædra, who by conventional -canons would seem to have forfeited all claim to -respect or sympathy, is found to be a woman of sweet and -gentle purity, cruelly betrayed by forces without and -within, and driven by desperation to a frantic attempt to -save her honour.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The means to such an end are interesting, although behind -them all lies the explanation of them all—the poet’s higher -and broader perception of truth. He has seen the passion -which ruled Phædra as a great world-force, an elemental -power which could neither be escaped nor overcome. This -power is personified as Aphrodite or Cypris, goddess of -love; and she is conceived as the mortal enemy of Hippolytus, -because he has scorned her in his spiritual pride -and refused her her need of worship.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The key to the tragedy lies in this conception of Cypris, -and in the mystical, ascetic spirit of Hippolytus against -which she has set her offended godhead. They represent -eternally opposing forces, and warfare between them is -inevitable and deadly. For that reason, the opening -monologue of the Drama is of great importance. The -scene is placed before the castle of Theseus at Trozen. A -statue of a goddess stands on either side—that of Artemis, -chaste Moon-goddess, on the one hand, decked with -flowers and carefully tended; and on the other hand, bare -<span class='pageno' id='Page_245'>245</span>and unhonoured, is the statue of Aphrodite. While beside -the latter, musing in evident anger, is the gleaming form -of the goddess herself. We learn the cause of her anger as -she speaks. She is grieved on account of Hippolytus, who -in his excessive devotion to Artemis, despises Aphrodite -and looks upon love as a thing unclean. His arrogance and -neglect are an unbearable insult, and she has determined to -punish him, swiftly and without mercy. She has already -prepared the pitfall, long ago in Athens, when Hippolytus -came to be solemnly initiated into the Mysteries.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>And Phædra there, his father’s Queen high-born,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Saw him, and, as she saw, her heart was torn</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>With great love, by the working of my will.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And for his sake, long since, on Pallas’ hill,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Deep in the rock, that love no more might roam,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>She built a shrine, and named it Love-at-home:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And the rock held it, but its face alway</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Seeks Trozên o’er the seas.</em>“<a id='r32' /><a href='#f32' class='c011'><sup>[32]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Thus Phædra tried to exorcise her passion; but there came -a time when Theseus, to expiate some sin, retired to -Trozen with his queen. There, meeting the young prince -daily, love reawakened; and at the opening of the tragedy -it is secretly consuming her very life.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>And here that grievous and amazéd queen,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Wounded and wondering, with ne’er a word,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Wastes slowly; and her secret none hath heard</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Nor dreamed.</em><a href='#f32' class='c011'><sup>[32]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Now Aphrodite’s hour has come, and Phædra is the weapon -with which she will strike. The young queen’s vigilant -honour, proud and enduring, shall be overthrown, by a -broken word uttered in weakness; and she shall die, -dragging down Hippolytus with her. Even while the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_246'>246</span>goddess is invoking the prince’s doom, there are cheery -distant sounds of the returning hunt; and the voice of -Hippolytus raised above the rest in a hymn to Artemis. -Aphrodite lingers an instant longer, and the menace of her -final words shatters the blithe harmony that is approaching:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Little he knows that Hell’s gates opened are,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And this his last look on the great Day-star!</em>“<a href='#f32' class='c011'><sup>[32]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The next moment the goddess has vanished, and Hippolytus -leads in his troop of huntsmen, laden with spoil and bearing -fresh-culled field flowers for the honour of the goddess of -all wild things. Straight to the statue of Artemis goes the -prince, and standing in an attitude of supplication, he -proffers a wreath from the uncropped meadows that she -loves. There is in his prayer a curious note of exaltation. -Young, brave and fair, there is something at once beautiful -and sinister in his claim to perfect purity: his <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">naïve</span> -assumption that he alone of all men is worthy to worship -the goddess: in the ascetic vow he takes; and the mystical -touches, hinting of personal converse with the deity. We -vaguely feel that there is a shade of excess in it; that the -limit of holy confidence has been passed; and that, with -all its intensity, there is something narrow and hard in his -devotion. A pious old huntsman has to remind him that -he has not paid service at the second shrine; when, with a -perfunctory salute to the statue of Aphrodite, Hippolytus -and his train go into the castle.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There follows a lovely ode by the Chorus, which prepares -for the entrance of Phædra. They tell of a mysterious -sickness that has fallen on the queen, and of their fears for -her life.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>For three long days she hath lain forlorn,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Her lips untainted of flesh or corn,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em><span class='pageno' id='Page_247'>247</span>For that secret sorrow beyond allayment,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>That steers to the far sad shore of the dead.</em>“<a href='#f32' class='c011'><sup>[32]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Many a surmise they ponder, to account for the strange -malady: perhaps some god is angry with the queen for -stinted rites: or the absent king her husband is unfaithful: -or she has had ill tidings from her Cretan home. Their -musing brings no light to the problem; but its purpose is -served, for when Phædra is presently borne out on her -couch, we are prepared to see a being in whom vitality is -burning low; but in whom suffering is overshone by -stainless honour and an unconquerable will. She is attended -by her maids, and by an old nurse whose delineation is -wonderful. She is one of the humble characters whom -Euripides drew so often: whose sterling qualities he seems -to delight in, but whose limitation and error he puts in -too, with absolute fidelity. Like Medea’s nurse, she probably -came with her mistress from her maiden home; and -she has grown old in faithful service. She has the tenderness -of a mother for the young queen; but age has made -her fretful, and slavery has hardened the fibre of her mind. -With pathetic solicitude, she is yet inclined to be querulous -at the feverish caprices of her charge. Moreover, she -divines that there is something weighing upon her mistress -which Phædra will not reveal, even to her; and she is hurt -at the lack of confidence.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As the queen’s languid voice follows the wandering thought -that has almost escaped control, the old woman grows -impatient. She cannot comprehend the yearning flight of -fancy which, in phrases of wild beauty, betrays its longing -for escape: to flee to the mountain spaces and the woods -and fields, and thread the mazes of the pines with arrow -and spear, like Artemis herself.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_248'>248</span>“<em>Oh for a deep and dewy spring,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>With runlets cold to draw and drink!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And a great meadow blossoming,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Long-grassed, and poplars in a ring,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To rest me by the brink!</em>“<a href='#f32' class='c011'><sup>[32]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>There is a significance in the half-conscious utterances -which lies very near the surface of the words: the fair soul -unwittingly hinting its secret in delirium as lovely as itself. -Presently her mind grows clear again, and she starts in fear -of what she may have betrayed.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>What have I said? Woe’s me! And where</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Gone straying from my wholesome mind?</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>What? Did I fall in some god’s snare?</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Nurse, veil my head again, and blind</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Mine eyes! There is a tear behind</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>That lash. Oh, I am sick with shame!</em>“<a href='#f32' class='c011'><sup>[32]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The sight of her anguish and humiliation stings the nurse -to another protest. She had not possessed the clue to -Phædra’s raving, and the sudden access of shame is inexplicable. -She longs to soothe and help, out of her deep and -genuine affection; and she has also some touch of quite -human curiosity which she cannot restrain. But every -way she is baffled by the silence of the queen. She feels -that she is slighted, but much more she feels the cruelty of -unsuccoured pain to one whom she dearly loves.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The thought that Phædra is surely dying from this -mysterious malady flings her down in supplication; and -she pours out a torrent of entreaties until we feel that the -queen is growing exhausted by them. But there is no sign -given until the nurse, reminding her mistress of the children -whom she will leave unprotected by her death, speaks of -Theseus’ bastard son who may disinherit them, and lets fall -<span class='pageno' id='Page_249'>249</span>his name, Hippolytus. The word brings a cry from -Phædra at last; and then, reluctantly, in slow and broken -phrases, all the secret is wrung from her.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The old woman now is horrified and remorseful at her -own persistence. Terror seizes her, and an unreasoning -sense that her mistress must perforce yield to dishonour. -Phædra’s chastity rises indignantly at so base a thought, -giving her strength to face the women about her with a -magnificent defence of her honour. She begins almost -hesitatingly, on a note of sadness for all the sum of human -misery; but she gathers courage as the story is unfolded -and rises to sublimity at last:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Come, I will show thee how my spirit hath moved.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>When the first stab came, and I knew I loved,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I cast about how best to face mine ill.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And the first thought that came, was to be still</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And hide my sickness....</em></div> - <div class='line in22'><em>After that</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I would my madness bravely bear, and try</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To conquer by mine own heart’s purity.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>My third mind, when these two availed me naught</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To quell love, was to die—the best, best thought—</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Gainsay me not—of all that men can say!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I would not have mine honour hidden away....</em></div> - <div class='line in32'><em>Nay,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Friends, ‘tis for this I die....</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>‘Tis written, one way is there, one, to win</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>This life’s race, could man keep it from his birth,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>A true clean spirit.</em>“<a href='#f32' class='c011'><sup>[32]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>But while the queen is speaking, winning a painful way -upward to her spirit’s height, the nurse is lagging after her -on a much lower path. She has rallied from the first -shock, when Phædra’s confession had driven her to mere -panic; and is now revolving the matter in a mind where -<span class='pageno' id='Page_250'>250</span>perception has been dimmed by age and the moral fibre -coarsened by long servility. Calling up all her store of -doubtful experience and worldly wisdom, she opposes every -cunning and plausible argument to Phædra’s virtue. Can -her mistress not see that she is visibly caught in the snare -of Cypris? Of what use is it to struggle against so mighty -a goddess? No human heart can resist the power of love; -and it is wiser to yield at once than to be broken by -Aphrodite’s anger.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Phædra listens patiently, seeing that the faithful old -creature is prompted by real devotion; and her reply has -more of pity than of anger in it, for the crooked counsel.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Oh this it is hath flung to dogs and birds</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Men’s lives and homes and cities—fair false words!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>O why speak things to please our ears? We crave</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Not that. ‘Tis honour, honour, we must save!</em>“<a href='#f32' class='c011'><sup>[32]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>But when the nurse, irritated, flings a rank word at this love -that she cannot comprehend, Phædra’s anger blazes in a -vehement rebuke.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne’er again</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there!</em>“<a href='#f32' class='c011'><sup>[32]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The old woman is not silenced, however: she merely -changes her tactics. Will not the queen trust to her? -She knows of love-philtres and salves that will cure her -passion without fear of shame. Phædra is growing weary -of the contest; and at last, when endurance is strained to -breaking, she yields on a point which seems quite innocent -and harmless. The nurse may fetch the potion of which -she speaks; only—and on this she lays pathetic stress—no -word of her secret must be breathed to the prince. There -is a soothing, half evasive reply from the nurse: a muttered -<span class='pageno' id='Page_251'>251</span>prayer aside to Cypris which has something ominous in it; -and the old servant goes out to wreck the honour of her -mistress in a foolish attempt to serve her. Hardly has she -gone when, above the song which the women of the Chorus -have taken up, Phædra catches the deep tones of an -angry voice within the palace. She springs to her feet, -every nerve tingling with apprehension; and calling to -the singers for silence she bends her ear to the great door. -A cry escapes her:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in20'>“<em>Oh, misery!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>O God, that such a thing should fall on me!</em>“<a href='#f32' class='c011'><sup>[32]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>It is the voice of Hippolytus which she can hear, raging at -her nurse in immeasurable scorn, for something that has -been asked of him. As each brutal epithet falls, Phædra, -in a trance of horror and shame repeats it to the listening -women. Then she shrinks aside, as Hippolytus bursts out -of the castle, the nurse at his heels, frantically entreating -him to hold his peace. By no direct word does he acknowledge -Phædra’s presence; and she, with every shred of -self-respect gone, cowers apart as though she were indeed -guilty of the foulness he imputes to her. But in noisy -indignation, with every word barbed for the trembling -queen, he raves against the nurse, against the whole of -womankind, and love and marriage, ending by a threat to -reveal the story to Theseus upon his return. His anger is -just; but in the hardness of youth and the bitterness of a -narrow spirit it is savage, merciless and all too prompt. -Blind to everything but his own wounded pride, he cannot -see that Phædra has been cruelly betrayed by the meddling -zeal of her servant; and he heaps insult upon her until -her sensitive soul lies prostrate—a thing that seems even to -herself as black as he believes it. All through the tirade -<span class='pageno' id='Page_252'>252</span>she, who is the central figure in this extraordinary scene, -takes no part in it: she remains mute, as though literally -smitten dumb with shame, until Hippolytus rushes out. -Then she sinks to the ground, sobbing:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in4'>“<em>And, this thing, O my God,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And thou, sweet Sunlight, is but my desert!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I cannot fly before the avenging rod</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Falls, cannot hide my hurt.</em>“<a href='#f32' class='c011'><sup>[32]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Some of the women try to comfort her, and raising her -eyes as they speak, she catches sight of the figure of the -nurse. She springs from the ground, a wave of anger -sweeping away her weakness:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>O vilest of the vile, O murderess heart</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To them that loved thee, hast thou played thy part?</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Am I enough trod down?</em>“<a href='#f32' class='c011'><sup>[32]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The old woman is deeply contrite for the wrong that she -has done; but garrulous and plausible to the last, she -pleads her love as an excuse, and claims that had her plan -succeeded she would have been praised for what she now is -blamed. Phædra’s wrath abates a little after its first -uncontrolled outburst: she cannot long be angry with one -so old and lowly; and besides, there are other, darker -things to be thought about and done. But when the -nurse, deceived by her calmness, tries to broach some other -scheme, the queen dismisses her peremptorily. She will -henceforth guide her own affairs, she says; and we know -she means that there remains only one thing for her to do. -The old woman goes sorrowfully away, and Phædra is left -to face the thought of her intolerable humiliation, of the -threatened exposure to her husband, and of the stain upon -her children. As reflection brings back the assurance that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_253'>253</span>she is innocent, despite all, it does but increase her anguish -at the thought of dishonour, and stir her to frenzy against -Hippolytus. She is resolved to die: that she sees to be -inevitable now. But how save her fair name, and the -honour of her young children, and the fame of her dear old -Cretan home? How secure to herself, in spite of false -appearances, the innocence that is hers by virtue of every -act and thought of her life? Beating backward and -forward in the narrow circle of shame and fear, the poor -baffled mind can only see one path, crooked and dark, to -the thing she craves for. It is the way of a lie—a false -charge against Hippolytus. It will mean the death of a -good man: that she knows—and rejoices in—so completely -are truth and justice shrivelled in the monstrous injustice -that she is suffering.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in8'>“<em>... But now, yea, even while I reel</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I clutch at in this coil of miseries;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To save some honour for my children’s sake:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The old proud Cretan castle whence I came.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I will not cower before King Theseus’ eyes,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Abased, for want of one life’s sacrifice....</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Yet, dying, shall I die another’s bane!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>He shall not stand so proud where I have lain</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Bent in the dust! Oh, he shall stoop to share</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The life I live in, and learn mercy there!</em>”<a href='#f32' class='c011'><sup>[32]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>She goes in, and the Chorus break into a song of foreboding. -A few minutes later there are cries of alarm within the -castle, the sound of hurrying feet and voices calling to -come and help the queen. Then there are ejaculations of -pity: a sudden, ominous silence, and again another voice—“Let -<span class='pageno' id='Page_254'>254</span>it lie straight.” Phædra is dead by her own -hand.</p> - -<hr class='c010' /> - -<p class='c000'>We must pass quickly over the fate of Hippolytus, though -that is really the crisis of the tragedy. Hardly had the -poor body of Phædra been composed upon a bier than -Theseus himself was announced, returning garlanded and -joyful from a visit to the oracle of some god. Met by the -news of his wife’s death, he tore off all the signs of joy that -he was wearing and threw himself beside her in bitter -lamentation. A little tablet hanging from her wrist -caught his eye, and believing it to be some dying wish, he -gently disengaged it. It was the false charge against -Hippolytus; and as the king read, his brow darkened with -terrible anger. The pitiful figure before him seemed to -claim swift and terrible vengeance; and Theseus uttered -an awful curse against his son. Calling upon the god -Poseidon to ratify an ancient promise, he demanded instant -death for Hippolytus. The petition was uttered rashly, in -anger and grief; and Theseus himself hardly dreamed that -it would be fulfilled; but the answer came with dreadful -promptitude. There was one stormy scene between father -and son; and Hippolytus, pleading in vain for mercy, went -out to banishment. But Poseidon in his far sea-caves had -heard Theseus’ invocation; and as the young prince urged -his chariot along the shore, a mighty wave, crested by a -fierce sea-monster, rolled destruction on him. Hurled -from his chariot, and dragged at the heels of the maddened -horses, Hippolytus was barely saved alive by his attendants. -They carried him back to the castle, and brought him into -the presence of the king, wounded and dying. But before -life closed for him he was gloriously vindicated, and the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_255'>255</span>tragedy ends, as it began, with the appearance of a goddess. -It is not Aphrodite now, however. She has done her -worst with the two young lives she has chosen to despoil; -and now Artemis will justify their innocence and leave -their memory clean and sweet.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Artemis.</span></span> - <em>For this I came, to show how high<br />And clean was thy son’s heart, that he - may die<br />Honoured of men; aye, and to tell no less<br />The frenzy, or in some sort - the nobleness<br />Of thy dead wife.</em><a href='#f32' style='text-decoration: none; - '><sup>[32]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<hr class='c012' /> - -<div class='footnote' id='f32'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r32'>32</a>. </span>From Professor Gilbert Murray’s translation of the <cite>Hippolytus</cite> -(George Allen & Co. Ltd.).</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_256'>256</span> - <h2 class='c005'><em>Euripides: Iphigenia</em></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_4 c009'>We turn back to the Trojan legend now, and -to two Euripidean plays which in some -sense round off the Orestean story. We had -to leave that story at a ragged edge—the -murder of Clytemnestra by her son Orestes in revenge for -the death of Agamemnon. We could not go on to the third -drama of the Æschylean trilogy, to follow the unhappy youth -as he fled in remorse to the oracle of Apollo at Delphi, and -thence to Athens, seeking to appease his mother’s Furies. -But if we had done so we should have found the whole -theme brought to a calm and beautiful conclusion: Orestes -cleansed by suffering and set free from guilt by Athena; -and the avenging Furies changed into Spirits of Mercy.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Euripides, however, who took so many subjects for his -drama from the Trojan cycle and always gave them new -significance, in this case chose variants of the legend and -wove them into a story which was entirely fresh. So that the -<cite>Iphigenia in Tauris</cite>, with which we are chiefly concerned now, -shows Orestes still fleeing before the Erinnyes; and carries -the tale to another and much more exciting conclusion. -Indeed, the peculiar charm of this tragedy is that it is not -really tragedy at all, but a thrilling adventure-play. It -reminds us of the <cite>Odyssey</cite>, with its flavour of the sea, the -wistful note that haunts it and its spice of physical peril; -only, this is the work of a poet who adds high dramatic -values to the delight of the story, with a lyric note of -enchanting beauty, and penetrating thought.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Characteristically, when Euripides took up this part of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_257'>257</span>Orestean legend, it was not so much the man Orestes in -whom he was interested, as the woman Iphigenia; with -the result that we have two dramas called by her name -and in which she is the protagonist. Both were produced -late in the poet’s life, the <cite>Iphigenia in Aulis</cite> being probably -his last work. It contains the earlier part of the heroine’s -story—the sacrifice of the virgin-martyr at Aulis; and the -great new feature of it, her rescue by Artemis just as the -knife was falling to her throat, was perhaps the poet’s own -invention. There is no hint of it in Æschylus. To -Clytemnestra, the murder of her first-born child Iphigenia -was the crime which turned her life to bitterness and -armed her against Agamemnon. He had beguiled her to -send the child—for she was but a mere girl—to Aulis, for -marriage with the splendid young hero Achilles. And then, -at the bidding of a soothsayer, he had ruthlessly slain his -daughter on the altar of Artemis; and sailed away to -Troy.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Those are the facts at the heart of the mystery which is -Clytemnestra; but when we come to the <cite>Iphigenia in -Aulis</cite> we find some different data and a far different interpretation. -Agamemnon there is almost pitiably human, -driven by complex motives first to consent to Iphigenia’s -death, then to recant in horror, and finally to yield to -forces which he could not control. Iphigenia, too, is made -at once nobler and more tragic in the idea of a willing -sacrifice—giving herself up, after the first shock of terror, -to die freely for her country’s good. And in her rescue by -the goddess there is added an element of marvel and -mystery, which is at the same time a protest against a form -of religion so inhuman.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The <cite>Iphigenia in Tauris</cite> opens at a period many years later.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_258'>258</span>Troy had fallen. Agamemnon and Clytemnestra were both -dead in the manner we know of; and Orestes was a fugitive, -seeking through many lands to expiate the crime of mother-murder. -There had been laid upon him at last, as the only -means to peace, the command of Apollo to make his way -to the savage land of the Tauri. He was to seize and -bring from the temple of Artemis there a certain statue of -the goddess which had fallen from heaven long before, and -which the people of the land were dishonouring by human -sacrifice. Every stranger cast upon their shores was slain -at the shrine of the goddess; and Orestes ran the risk of -almost certain death in making the venture. But he had -a solemn promise from Apollo; and the reward would be -sweet indeed. He would be cleansed of the crime, and set -free from these haunting shapes of remorse which sometimes -drove him to madness. Moreover, he would rid the name -of Hellas from the stain which lay on its religion through -the barbarous practices of the Tauri. So he and his -devoted comrade Pylades sailed for those inhospitable -waters.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Through the Clashing Rocks they burst:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>They passed by the Cape unsleeping</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of Phineus’ sons accurst;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>They ran by the starlit bay</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Upon magic surges sweeping,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Where folk on the waves astray</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Have seen, through the gleaming grey,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Ring behind ring, men say,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The dance of the old Sea’s daughters.</em><a id='r33' /><a href='#f33' class='c011'><sup>[33]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>But Destiny was guiding them to something stranger than -they had either hoped or dreaded. For this wild land, -fiercely guarded from approach by the Rocky Gateway of -the Symplêgades, was the country to which Artemis had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_259'>259</span>carried Iphigenia from the altar in Aulis. And in the -temple where they must seek the sacred statue, the daughter -of Agamemnon was even now a priestess.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The years had passed wearily since Iphigenia first found -herself a captive in Tauris. Completely shut off from the -world by the sea which foamed round that desolate coast, -no word ever came to her from her home in Argos; and -she could make no sign to the friends who believed her dead -long since. She hated this savage people, and Thoas their -king, and the hideous sacrifices at which she had to perform -the cleansing rite. Sometimes she would grow sick at -their brutality, and wild with loneliness and longing to -escape. Then sceptical thoughts would come about the -deity who could accept such worship; and it would seem -to her better to have died at Aulis than to have been saved -for such slow misery. At other times she would brood over -her short sweet girlhood and its bitter ending, gone -irrevocably from the moment of her father’s fraud; and -bitterness would overwhelm her against Agamemnon, and -the Seer who counselled him, and the chieftains who -persuaded him; but above all against Helen, for whose -sake the war was made.</p> - -<p class='c000'>So youth stole away, taking with it, as Iphigenia sadly -thought, all the high things that inspire a fair young soul—the -shining ideal, the simple and ardent faith, the generous -emotion that leaps to sympathy and service. And at the -moment of the opening of the play, when the ship that -bears Orestes is being run ashore at Tauris, Iphigenia stands -before her temple feeling hard and hopeless, dispossessed of -all that is dear in life, and with every illusion long since -fled.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is early morning, and Iphigenia has just emerged from -<span class='pageno' id='Page_260'>260</span>the temple. There are a few lines of formal exposition: -an involuntary cry of disgust at the blood-stained altar -that is insulting the eye of day; and then a flow of troubled -speech.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Ah me!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>But what dark dreams, thou clear and morning sky</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I have to tell thee, can that bring them ease!</em>“<a href='#f33' class='c011'><sup>[33]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>In the night that has just passed, she had dreamed of her -home in Argos. She seemed to lie asleep there, with her -maids around her, when suddenly an earthquake shook the -palace; and running out of doors, she saw the great building -reel and fall. Only one pillar remained; and as she -watched it, she saw that brown hair waved about its head, -and she heard it speak with a human voice. Then, in the -strange confusion of dreams, she found herself fulfilling the -office that she bears here in Tauris; and she washed the -pillar clean for death, as it was her duty to wash the victims -for the sacrifice.</p> - -<p class='c000'>With pathetic readiness, Iphigenia has accepted the dream -as an evil omen. The pillar of her father’s house must -mean his son Orestes, whom she left a child in Argos all -those years ago. Those whom she cleanses are doomed to -die. What can the dream mean, therefore, save that her -brother is dead? The conviction is so strong upon her -that she at once decides to prepare the funeral rite.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Therefore to my dead brother will I pour</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Such sacrifice, I on this bitter shore</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And he beyond great seas, as still I may.</em>“<a href='#f33' class='c011'><sup>[33]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div id='IPHIGENIA' class='figcenter id003'> -<img src='images/i_289.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic001'> -<p>IPHIGENIA<br /><br /><em>M. Nonnenbruch</em><br /><br /><em>By permission of the Berlin Photographic Co. 133 New Bond St. W.</em></p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_261'>261</span>But hardly has she gone upon her errand when there is a -sound of muffled voices approaching, and two youths enter, -treading cautiously, and peering for danger on every -side. They are Orestes and his friend Pylades, who have -found their way up from the shore, and are searching -for some means to carry out the god’s command. -As they come before the temple, and note the grim signs -of slain men on the altar and hanging from the roof, -they realize that this is the very centre of their quest; -and that they have now to face the most deadly peril -of all.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At this crucial moment, however, when all their hopes -depend on a calm nerve and rapid thought and resolute -action, an approaching fit of madness begins to shake -Orestes. With strength sapped and courage broken, he -falls upon a seat while Pylades goes to reconnoitre. In his -weakened state he is overcome by the terror of the place -and their enormous danger; and when his friend returns, -he implores him to fly back to the galley. But Pylades has -hopeful tidings. He has found a spot in this almost -impregnable temple where an entry might be forced by -courage and daring; and heartening Orestes with the -news, he leads him away, to hide till nightfall in a cavern -by the seashore.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As they go out of sight, the Chorus enters, singing a hymn -to Artemis, the mountain-born child of Leto. They are -Greek women, captured in war by Thoas and given by him -to the priestess for her handmaidens. They come wonderingly, -in answer to Iphigenia’s urgent summons; and -are amazed when she appears with every sign of grief, -followed by attendants who carry libations for the dead. -In answer to a question from their leader, the priestess tells -them of her ominous dream and of the funeral rite that she -is about to perform for her brother.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_262'>262</span>“<em>Alas, O maidens mine!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I am filled full of tears;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>My heart filled with the beat</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of tears, as of dancing feet.</em>“<a href='#f33' class='c011'><sup>[33]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>From each attendant she takes in turn a golden goblet -containing a libation of wine and milk and honey; and as -she pours them into the altar for the dead, she and her -women alternately chant a threnody for Orestes. They -sing of the old dark story of Agamemnon’s house, from its -beginning in the sin of Pelops down to what was for -Iphigenia its last and worst enormity, the sacrifice at Aulis. -And as their voices rise and fall in the long ceremonial, -while Iphigenia is still upon her knees before the altar, there -is a violent interruption. A herdsman bursts eagerly upon -them, with news that shatters the mournful beauty of -their rite.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>A ship hath passed the blue Symplêgades,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And here upon our coast two men are thrown,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Young, bold, good slaughter for the altar-stone</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of Artemis!</em>“<a href='#f33' class='c011'><sup>[33]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The priestess rises, impatient at this sudden recall to her -hated duty, and the jarring note that has broken their -obsequies. The man and his ugly zeal are a complete -offence to her, and she answers him curtly. Who and what -are these men he speaks of? At his reply, however, -annoyance gives place to astonishment, curiosity, and a -strange mingling of joy and pain. For he tells that the -men are Greeks; and never yet, in all the dreary time -of her captivity, has one of her countrymen landed upon -these shores.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Once or twice, in her darkest hours, she had longed and -prayed for such a day as this—for fate to send some Hellenic -<span class='pageno' id='Page_263'>263</span>victim to her altar. She had thought she would be glad: -that it would be a keen and satisfying pleasure to take a -Greek life for all that the Greeks had made her suffer. But -now that she stands face to face with her desire, there is a -tumult of emotion within her in which bitterness hardly -shares.</p> - -<p class='c000'>She questions the herdsman closely of the name and -appearance of the strangers. One is called Pylades, he -says; but the other’s name he did not catch. And at -Iphigenia’s command, he goes over the whole story of their -capture. He and his companions were washing their cattle -in the sea, when one of them had spied two strangers -sitting on the beach in a little bay. They were young, -handsome and apparently noble; and there was something -in their fine physique and sudden unaccountable appearance -in that lonely spot which made one of his fellows cry out -that they were gods. But another jeered and said most -likely they were shipwrecked sailors who knew the custom -of the country and were trying to escape it; and just at -that moment a strange thing happened. One of the -youths was suddenly seized with a fit of madness. They -saw him spring from his seat and beat his head up and -down, while he shrieked wildly to his comrade:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in22'>“<em>Pylades,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Dost see her there?—And there.—Oh, no one sees!—</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>A she-dragon of Hell, and all her head</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Agape with fangèd asps, to bite me dead!</em>“<a href='#f33' class='c011'><sup>[33]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The distraught fancy of Orestes saw the cattle and their -watch-dogs as the pursuing Furies of his mother; and quick -as a flash, before his friend could intervene, he had drawn -his sword and was slashing right and left amongst the -helpless beasts. The herdsmen blew their horns; and soon -<span class='pageno' id='Page_264'>264</span>a crowd had gathered and were pelting the strangers with -stones. While the fit of madness lasted Pylades guarded -Orestes from attack; but it passed quickly, and the two -youths fought together gallantly for life. Not one of the -missiles struck home, the goddess, it seemed, taking care to -save her prey. But at last they were surrounded, and the -swords beaten out of their hands.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in24'>“<em>Then to the king</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>We bore them both, and he, not tarrying,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Sends them to thee, to touch with holy spray—</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And then the blood-bowl.</em>“<a href='#f33' class='c011'><sup>[33]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>All through the tale Iphigenia had listened in pity for the -brave youths so cruelly overborne; and now she is suddenly -brought back to the thought of the sacrifice and of her part -in it. There is a shudder of horror too, when the herdsman -reminds her of her prayer in past times for just such a -capture as this. She restrains herself with an effort, and -coldly bids the man fetch the prisoners; but no sooner has -he gone than the tumult of emotion within rushes into -speech. Memories of the old times: of the bridal rites -that were only a snare; and of the poor timid child that -she once had been, imploring her father to be merciful. -Thoughts, too, of shipwrecked men and of all the dreadful -sacrifices which she cannot and will not believe that the -goddess delights in. And above all, the certainty she feels -that Orestes is dead; and which she says has turned her -heart to stone and made her pitiless.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>’Tis true: I know by mine own evil will:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>One long in pain, if things more suffering still</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Fall to his hand, will hate them for his own</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Torment,</em>“<a href='#f33' class='c011'><sup>[33]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_265'>265</span>So she thinks she will not falter: that though she may have -shrunk from the task in former times, this last pain has -made her cruel. Yet, when the strangers are brought in, -all the hardness melts in a moment.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Ah me!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>What mother then was yours, O strangers, say,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And father? And your sister, if you have</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>A sister: both at once, so young and brave,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To leave her brotherless.</em>“<a href='#f33' class='c011'><sup>[33]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Orestes answers, a little irritated at the sight of her tears. -Whoever this stranger woman is, it is hardly kind of her, -he thinks, to unman them thus by pity; and he bids her -cease. They know the form of worship of the country, and -are prepared to die.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Iphigenia checks her tears, but she cannot control her -desire for news of home and friends. So, rather heartlessly -as the prisoners think, she presses eager questions on them—for -their name and parentage and city. To Orestes it seems -that she is prompted by the shallowest curiosity, and he -flings curt phrases at her, refusing the information. But -the clamour at her heart will not be silenced by the rebuke: -her own pride and the dignity of her office, and every other -consideration but this craving for word from Hellas, go -down before it. She pleads that she at least may know -what land of Greece they hail from; and grudgingly, in -the fewest words possible, Orestes answers that Argos is his -land, and his home is at Mycenæ. His words evoke an -exclamation of joy from Iphigenia; and as his reluctance -gradually breaks up under the spell of her sincerity, he is -drawn on to answer her on all those matters which, unknown -to either, are of such weighty interest to both.</p> - -<p class='c000'>She asks about Troy, and the fate of Helen: of Calchas, that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_266'>266</span>evil prophet who had bidden her father slay his child: of -Achilles, her promised bridegroom, dead long since outside -the walls of Troy. And Orestes in his turn begins to wonder -who may be this searching questioner, who asks so feelingly -of the things that lie closest to his heart. She tells him -that she is Greek; and that explains a good deal. But when -she comes nearer home, and asks for news of Agamemnon, -it is only her evident emotion that wins a reply. Bit by -bit she learns that Agamemnon is dead by the hand of -Clytemnestra; and a cry escapes her which is full of the -sense of the tragedy from the woman’s standpoint:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>O God!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I pity her that slew ... and him that slew!</em>“<a href='#f33' class='c011'><sup>[33]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Orestes, too, is moved, and begs her, shrinking from further -questions which he sees are coming, to desist. One word -more, she entreats—what of Clytemnestra? And when -the youth, in slow words that seem wrung from him in -pain, tells that the great queen was slain by her son in -vengeance for his father’s death, it is again the woman’s -judgment that springs to utterance:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Alas!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>A bad false duty bravely hath he wrought.</em>“<a href='#f33' class='c011'><sup>[33]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>So little by little the tragic events that have filled the -years of her exile are related in this wonderful dialogue, -where every sentence that each speaker utters carries a -significance to which the other has no clue. All through -the scene the underlying dramatic irony is profoundly felt—the -ignorance of each of the other’s identity; and at -moments one holds the breath in suspense. At one time -the unknown priestess speaks of the Greek king’s daughter -who was slain at Aulis; and when the stranger answers that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_267'>267</span>of course nothing more was heard of her, she having died -at Aulis, Iphigenia sighs:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Poor child! Poor father, too, who killed and lied!</em>“<a href='#f33' class='c011'><sup>[33]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Again, remembering her ominous dream, she asks what has -become of Agamemnon’s son, and receives the reply:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>He lives, now here, now nowhere, bent with ill.</em>“<a href='#f33' class='c011'><sup>[33]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>So her dream was a lie, she muses, thankfully; and falls -silent while the stranger, whose reserve has vanished now, -breaks into bitter railing against the gods who have brought -him to this pass. Iphigenia scarcely hears him. Relief and -gratitude for the fact that Orestes is living: renewed pity -for the strangers’ doom and some wistful tenderness for -him to whom she has spoken, fill her mind and prompt her -to rapid thought.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Suppose she were to rescue them, she ponders, or one of -them? And suppose, in doing so, she could bring help to -herself from the brother in Argos who believes her dead? -Suddenly she turns upon Orestes and begins rapidly to -unfold a plan. She knows a way to save him; and she will -undertake to give him life in return for a promise. He -must pledge himself to carry a letter which she will give -him to her friends in Mycenæ.</p> - -<p class='c000'>So her proposal runs to the amazed and grateful youths; -but a difficulty instantly arises. Orestes will not by any -means consent that Pylades shall be left behind to die. -His friend is very dear to him, he says: let Pylades go free -and bear the message. The priestess agrees, with a word -of admiration for his generous love; and goes into the -temple to fetch the tablet, which had been written for her -long ago, by a prisoner taken by king Thoas.</p> - -<p class='c000'>While Iphigenia is gone, the friends take a tender farewell -<span class='pageno' id='Page_268'>268</span>of each other. Pylades entreats Orestes to let him stay and -die in his stead: he will have no more joy in life, he says, -when he returns without his comrade; and men will scorn -him for a coward. But the other puts his pleading resolutely -on one side, and when the priestess returns with the -tablet, both are composed and ready. She has one misgiving, -however. She fears that Pylades will forget his -trust once he is free of Tauris; and she requires of him an -oath that her letter will be delivered. But when the oath -is solemnly given, Pylades perceives a difficulty in his turn. -Suppose the tablet should be lost, how could he fulfil his -promise? Iphigenia sees that there is only one thing to -do—she must repeat the contents of the letter, and the -messenger must commit them to memory. So, speaking -slowly and impressively, she begins:</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Iphigenia.</span></span> - <em>Say: “To Orestes, Agamemnon’s son,<br />She that was slain in Aulis, dead to - Greece,<br />Yet quick, Iphigenia sendeth peace.”</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Orestes.</span></span> - <em>Iphigenia! Where? Back from the dead?</em></p> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Iphigenia.</span></span> - <em>’Tis I. But speak not, lest thou break my thread.</em><a href='#f33' - class='c011'><sup>[33]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'>Orestes and Pylades, after a wild exclamation each to the -other, stand listening in bewildered joy as Iphigenia proceeds, -relating the story of her rescue by Artemis, and calling -upon her brother to come and save her from captivity. -During the recital, they have had time to grasp the wonder -of the things they have heard; but no ray of the truth has -come to Iphigenia. And when Orestes, receiving the letter -from the hand of Pylades, turns eagerly to embrace the -sister so marvellously saved, she recoils in horror.</p> - - <div class='dl_1'> - <p><span class='dl_1'><span class='sc'>Orestes.</span></span> - <em>O Sister mine, O my dead father’s child,<br />Agamemnon’s child; take me and have no - fear,<br />Beyond all dreams ‘tis I thy brother here.</em><a href='#f33' - class='c011'><sup>[33]</sup></a></p> - </div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_269'>269</span>Iphigenia, incredulous, thinks he is mocking her. She has -been so long dead to love and happiness that she cannot -believe that they have come to her at last, and that this is -really the brother for whom, a little while before, she had -performed the funeral rite. She insists on proof of his -identity; and as he tells over the little homely signs by -which she may know him, her doubt slips away and she -clasps him in her arms.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Is this the babe I knew,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The little babe, light lifted like a bird?...</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>O Argos land, O hearth and holy flame</em></div> - <div class='line in12'><em>That old Cyclôpes lit,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I bless ye that he lives, that he is grown,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>A light and strength, my brother and mine own.</em>“<a href='#f33' class='c011'><sup>[33]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>They cling to each other, Iphigenia oblivious of everything -but her joy, and Orestes loth to recall her to a sense of -their danger. Presently her thoughts come painfully back -to it, fluttering wildly round each possibility of escape -together, and seeing no way clear. But when Orestes tells -her of his mission to carry off the statue of the goddess, the -very magnitude of its daring clarifies her mind. She sees -one way, and though it is not the way that she had hoped, -she is ready for the sacrifice. She must secure the statue, -and Orestes must escape with it to Attica, as the god -commands. For herself, her part will be to stay, and by -every means prevent her brother from being followed. She -is sure of success in this, and though it mean death for her, -it will be sweet to give herself for the peace of one so dear.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Thou shalt walk free in Argolis again,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And all life smile on thee.... Dearest, we need</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Not shrink from that.</em>“<a href='#f33' class='c011'><sup>[33]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_270'>270</span>But Orestes absolutely refuses to accept his life at such a -price; and they strain every nerve to contrive a scheme -which will carry them to safety together. There is a -suggestion to kill Thoas, but the woman who has been -sheltered and protected by him will not hear of it. Again, -they think of hiding in the temple until nightfall; but that -is impracticable, because the guards would see and capture -them. And at last Iphigenia, beating backward and forward -over all the possible chances, sees a gleam of hope. -Slowly and carefully she unfolds her plan. She will give -out that the victims for the altar have come from Greece -polluted with a mother’s blood, and that they may not be -offered to the goddess until they have been cleansed in the -sea. The statue, she will say, is unclean too, since one of -the captives has touched it; and she will prevail upon the -king to allow her to take it, with the victims, down to the -seashore. The rest will be Orestes’ task; and as his ship -with fifty rowers lies waiting for them in the little bay, they -should be able to get away before Thoas can follow.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The scheme is at once subtle and daring, but it is their -only hope of escape from awful peril; and it is hastily -resolved upon. Iphigenia claims a promise of loyalty from -her women, sends the prisoners away in charge of attendants, -and goes into the temple for the statue. As she comes out -again, bearing it in her hands, the king himself arrives. -To his astonished questions, she answers as has been -arranged, and no point is overlooked by her ingenuity. -A herald should be sent before her, to clear the streets, and -proclaim that no one must look out, or leave his house, for -fear of pollution. Thoas himself, and his attendants, must -veil their eyes when her procession passes; and while she -is gone, the king is to purge the temple with fire in preparation -<span class='pageno' id='Page_271'>271</span>for her return. Lastly, if she be a long time away, -the king need not be anxious, and she must not be disturbed: -the cleansing must be thoroughly performed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The king consents without a shadow of suspicion, impressed -by her piety and forethought. The prisoners are led out, -and as the procession moves away, Iphigenia utters a prayer -for help in her strategy and pardon for the deceit that she -has practised on the king. As Thoas returns to the temple -to carry out Iphigenia’s injunctions, the Chorus break into -an ode in honour of Apollo and Artemis; and for a while -there is no sound but the sweet rise and fall of their voices. -As time slips by, bringing we know not what fortune to the -fugitives, we know that the women of the Chorus, who are -in the secret, are tortured by suspense. Then there is a -sudden shout; and a messenger comes running from the -shore and cries for entrance to the temple. The women -try to turn him aside; but he batters upon the gates until -Thoas throws them open, angry at the clamour.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In rapid and excited speech the man tells his errand. Let -the king come at once, for he has been befooled. The -cleansing was a fraud: the statue has been stolen; and the -Greek princess and the two young men who were destined -for the altar are even now rowing away in a boat which was -awaiting them. But if the king will hasten, they may yet -be caught; for at this moment they are battling with an -adverse wind, and they have no knowledge of the currents -of that treacherous shore.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Thoas, furious at the trap into which he has fallen, gives -rapid orders: a company of herdsmen is to go to the headlands, -and boats are to be put off immediately from the -shore. So these crafty Greeks will be overtaken, either by sea -or land; and then let them beware of a barbarian’s anger!</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_272'>272</span>But suddenly, through the shouting and confusion, there -is a roll of thunder and a lightning-flash; and descending -through the air the goddess Athena is seen. Her voice -rings out imperiously, commanding Thoas to stay his haste. -Then, in the awed hush that falls she makes known the will -of the gods that Orestes and his sister shall not be pursued. -Fate has ordained their escape, and Thoas may not strive -against it.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in20'>“<em>No death from thee</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>May snare Orestes between earth and sea.</em>“<a href='#f33' class='c011'><sup>[33]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>As for Orestes himself, Athena declares that it is laid on him -to carry the rescued image of Artemis to Halæ, on the -bounds of Attica; and there it will be worshipped with -curious rites designed to recall the old barbarity while -condemning it. These poor Greek women must be -restored to their homes; and, for that fleeing priestess, -Destiny has given to her to end her days in peace and -gentleness.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>And thou, Iphigenia, by the stair</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of Brauron in the rocks, the Key shalt bear.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of Artemis. There shalt thou live and die,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And there have burial.</em>“<a href='#f33' class='c011'><sup>[33]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class='c012' /> - -<div class='footnote' id='f33'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r33'>33</a>. </span>From Professor Gilbert Murray’s translation of the <cite>Iphigenia -in Tauris</cite> (George Allen & Co. Ltd.).</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_273'>273</span> - <h2 class='c005'><em>Virgil: Dido</em></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_4 c009'>Nineteen years before the birth of Christ the -great Roman poet Virgil died, leaving amongst -his papers an epic poem which had been the -work of many years. Both in life and art this -poet of the Augustan Age had a very high ideal; and because -he was conscious of defects in his work: because his last -illness came before he was able to put the finishing touches -upon it, he begged that it should be burned. But the -emperor Augustus interposed. Some parts of the poem -were already known and loved in the circle of Virgil’s -friends, of whom the emperor was one. They knew its fine -theme—the founding of the Roman State by its legendary -ancestor Æneas; and having already some foretaste of its -beauty and charm and strong patriotic appeal, it seemed -that the destruction of the poem would mean an immense -and irreparable loss. So the Emperor decided that it should -be preserved, and directed Virgil’s executors to edit it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The poem is of course the <cite>Æneid</cite>, and Dido is its heroine. -Like the Greek epics, it is an authentic voice of the ancient -world; but of an Age, a Race and a Civilization vastly -different from theirs. It is quite frankly fashioned in the -Homeric form, and its hero is one of the Trojan chiefs who -fled overseas to Italy, to re-establish his race there at the -command of the gods. It actually brings Æneas at one -point of his wanderings within three months’ time of an -incident in the <cite>Odyssey</cite>: it shows us Andromache still -mourning for Hector, and the gods still at enmity over the -old feud between Greek and Trojan. But all these links -<span class='pageno' id='Page_274'>274</span>with the earlier epics, and many others, subtler or more -obvious, are merely formal. In spirit there is as wide a -severance as we know to exist in actual time. The <cite>Æneid</cite>, -with its humane, philosophic and cultured poet, belongs to -a state of society many hundreds of years later than the -<cite>Iliad</cite> and <cite>Odyssey</cite>. And although it is a mistake to regard -the earlier poems as really ‘primitive,’ they represent an -age which, because it was relatively simpler and less self-conscious, -seems youthful and buoyant by comparison.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The outward similarity and the fundamental contrast -between Homer and Virgil make a fascinating subject on -which to linger; and one aspect at least we must just -glance at, because of its bearing on Dido’s story. It is that -added element of purpose in the <cite>Æneid</cite> which perhaps -includes in itself or is the ultimate cause of all the other -points of difference from the Greek poems. The <cite>Æneid</cite> -was conceived with a deep and serious aim, and composed -with infinite care. It did not originate, as perhaps the -<cite>Iliad</cite> and <cite>Odyssey</cite> may have done, in the almost spontaneous -lays of wandering minstrels, for the delight and honour of -princely hosts. It was designed from the first to represent -the divine birth of the Latin race, the gradual uprising of -the Roman state, its long struggle with barbarism and its -mission to civilize the Western world—all as the ordinance -of the supreme deity.</p> - -<p class='c000'>From the very beginning of the poem its purpose is clear -upon the face of it; and one of the most important results -is the creation of a new type of hero. Æneas is not an -ardent young soldier like Achilles, nor an acute and hardy -sailor like Odysseus, with their zest and naïveté. He is a -much more complex character, with a deeper estimate of -life and some civic virtues which had not been evolved -<span class='pageno' id='Page_275'>275</span>when the earlier heroes were created. He is a pioneer and -adventurer who loves above all things home and a settled -order; an invader who does not enjoy warfare in the least; -a prince who rules by gentleness; a tender son and husband -and father who is capable of the deepest cruelty to the -woman who loves him; a man sadly conscious of human -weakness, but conscious too of the divine within himself -and of the high destiny to which he is called.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The character of Æneas is the primary element in the -tragedy of Dido. Because he was such a man, their love -for each other was bound to end as it did. Of course there -was the external cause, too; also arising out of the design -of the poem. For Dido was the founder and queen of -Carthage, the hereditary foe of Rome. And the poet -desired to dramatize, as it were, the first clash of the two -races in their infancy; to show the origin of the long feud; -and to prefigure by a sort of allegory the eventual triumph -of Rome. We do not think of the allegory, however, as we -read the story of Dido in the First and Fourth Books of the -<cite>Æneid</cite>. We are caught in the onward sweep of the poet’s -imagination, and moved by the intense human interest of -the theme. It is only when the catastrophe comes, when -Æneas, fleeing from Carthage in the cold dawn, sees the -light of the queen’s funeral pyre reddening the sky, that -we begin to reflect on the meaning of it. Even then, so -complete is the victory of the poet’s art, our last thought -is one of pity—for the indignant spirit of Dido that has -fled to the House of Shadows; and for the miserable man -no less, whom fate is driving to the coast of Italy.</p> - -<hr class='c010' /> - -<p class='c000'>When Troy was sacked, Æneas sailed away with twenty -ships, and all that remained dear to him of home. His -<span class='pageno' id='Page_276'>276</span>wife Creusa was killed as they were escaping from the -burning city; but his household gods were preserved, and -these he carried with him in his flight, with his aged father -and his little son Iulus.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Misfortune followed him, however. Juno, still unrelenting -in her anger against the race of Paris, buffeted him to and -fro upon the seas for seven years, and cast him at length -upon the shore of Libya. The greater part of his fleet was -scattered, and perhaps lost for ever: his own crew was -broken by the long struggle; and he himself, under the -cheery manner which he assumed to encourage his men, -was heart-sick with despair. What this strange land was -he did not know. It seemed wild and desolate: it was -most probably inhabited by barbarians, and at any moment -a savage horde might fall upon them.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But the country was not hostile, as Æneas’ goddess-mother -Venus took care to assure him, meeting him in the guise -of a mountain nymph. It was the new land of Dido, the -Tyrian princess who had fled from her native country and -the evil rule of her brother Pygmalion. The late king of -Tyre, her father, had given her in marriage to one she dearly -loved, Sichæus, a priest of Heracles, and the wealthiest -man of all the wealthy East. But a little later the king -had died. Pygmalion succeeded to the throne, and in -greed for Sichæus’ wealth he secretly slew him at his own -altar.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in10'><em>Blinded with lust of gold,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And heedless of his sister’s passionate love,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Pygmalion on his brother crept by stealth,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And slew him at the very altar’s foot.</em><a id='r34' /><a href='#f34' class='c011'><sup>[34]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>For some time he hid his guilt and tried to win from -Dido, in her grief, the immense treasures of Sichæus. But -<span class='pageno' id='Page_277'>277</span>her intelligence, and her love for her murdered husband, -could not be long deceived. She discovered her brother’s -guilt, and realizing that to remain in Tyre would mean her -death too, she instantly laid plans to leave the country. -It was to be no timid surrender, however. She gathered -about her all those who hated Pygmalion’s tyranny, and -proposed that they should join her. Ships were seized and -rapidly manned: Sichæus’ wealth was stored in them, and -Dido sailed to found a new city on the coast of Africa.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At the moment when Æneas landed there, the building of -the city was in eager progress; and Dido, the brain of the -enterprise, was beginning to forget her sorrow in the joy -of achievement. When Æneas climbed the hill above the -bay, he saw the city stretched beneath, and the Tyrians -busy upon it ‘like bees in summer fields.’ Walls were -rising, trenches were being dug and foundations laid: -houses and streets were already finished: great blocks were -being hewn for the citadel and columns for the theatre; -while in the centre of the town, complete in every detail -of ornament, a magnificent temple stood. Here Æneas -made his way, passing invisibly through the crowded street -by the spells of Venus. As he stood gazing at the walls, -marvelling to see that they were carved with the history of -his Troy, a shout arose. The great queen was coming.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Queen Dido, beautiful beyond compare,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Enters the temple, by a mighty train</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of youths attended. Like Diana she,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>When on Eurotas’ banks, or on the heights</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of Cynthus, she the dances leads ...</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>A quiver on her shoulders, as she moves.</em><a href='#f34' class='c011'><sup>[34]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Dido took her seat upon a throne raised high beneath the -central dome, surrounded by her guards. Before her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_278'>278</span>thronged the captains of her great work, merchants, emissaries -from distant states, and many of her own folk who -had come to petition her for justice. She was the ruling -spirit, and by no mere accident. Æneas stood in amazement -at the scene, as she allotted to each his task, and adjudged -every difficult question, and dispensed the law.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Suddenly there was a tumult outside the gate, and a noisy -interruption, as a band of foreigners approached the -temple and claimed audience of the queen. The strangers -were brought in, and Æneas, in joyful astonishment, -recognized in them the comrades who he had thought -were lost. He longed to rush forward to greet them, but -Venus’ spell was on him still; and he stood invisible while -the Trojans threw themselves on the mercy of the queen -and implored her help. She answered kindly, and with -modest dignity. Long ago she had heard and pitied the fate -of Troy, she said; and though she is bound to guard her -infant state against invasion, she has no quarrel with a -peaceful folk, and least of all with fugitives from Troy. She -will, if they so desire, send them away in safety, with -provision from her ample store.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>But should you wish to settle here with me,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>This city I am building, it is yours.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Draw up your ships. Without distinction both</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Trojan and Tyrian I alike will treat.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Oh, would that driven by the same South Wind,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Tour king Æneas self were here!</em>“<a href='#f34' class='c011'><sup>[34]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Æneas could keep silence no longer. Breaking the spell of -darkness that was shrouding him, he gained the throne and -stood before the astonished queen.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>I, whom thou seekest, here before thee stand—</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Trojan Æneas.</em>“<a href='#f34' class='c011'><sup>[34]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_279'>279</span>It is a great moment, fraught with significance of which -the two chief actors seem to have a perception. To Dido, -this handsome prince whose fame has reached her, and whose -melancholy history is so like her own, seems to have flashed -upon her as the fulfilment of her wish. And to Æneas, -who has just learned that she can be kind as well as brave, -she seems peerless among women. While from each to -each is passed the silent intuitive sense that here is a nature -great and good. Æneas, touched by her generosity to his -comrades, tries to thank her. But he feels that only the -gods can reward her adequately.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in20'>“<em>If powers divine</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>There be, who look with reverence on the good,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>If anywhere be justice, or a soul</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Conscious of inward worth, oh, may the Gods</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Confer on thee commensurate reward!...</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>So long as rivers to the ocean run,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>So long as shadows hang on mountain sides,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Long as the firmament is gemmed with stars,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Thy name and fame and praise with me shall live,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Whatever lands may claim me.</em>“<a href='#f34' class='c011'><sup>[34]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>In the warmth of his words there is a hint of coming passion; -and thinking of the tragic end, there is something ominous -in them too. Æneas will indeed remember Dido in far-off -lands, but otherwise than he imagines. And she, as she -invites the Trojans to banquet in her palace and hospitably -begs them to make their home in Carthage, is serenely -unconscious of the pitiful entreaties that she will one day -make to Æneas.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The ships were laid up, and generous provision made for -the weary sailors, while their chief and his friends were -feasted by the queen in Oriental splendour and luxury. -Rich gifts from Troy were presented to Dido by Æneas, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_280'>280</span>and received by her with great delight. There were the -jewels of Ilione, King Priam’s eldest daughter: the sceptre -that she had borne, her diadem of gold and gems, and -the pearls that once hung about her neck. They were -scarcely of happy omen, one would think; but more ill-fated -still were the presents that Dido found most beautiful.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>A mantle stiff with figures, and with gold,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>A veil, too, with a border wrought about</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of saffron-flowered acanthus, ornaments</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Of Argive Helen.</em><a href='#f34' class='c011'><sup>[34]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Yet no shadow from their history fell upon the queen. -She was strangely happy as she listened to her guest and -caressed his beautiful little son. She did not know that the -mighty love-goddess was plotting against her; and when -the feast was over, she rose to pour a libation to the gods -with a prayer for peace and blessing.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Oh Jupiter! for thou, they say, art he</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Who gives the laws that govern host and guest,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Grant that this day a day of joy may be</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To us of Tyre, and these our guests from Troy,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>A day to be remembered by our sons!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>May Bacchus the Joy-Bringer be with us,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And Juno the Beneficent.</em>“<a href='#f34' class='c011'><sup>[34]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>When the Fourth Book opens Æneas is still the honoured -guest of the queen, entertained by her at the banquet as -each succeeding night falls, and accompanying her during -the day as she rides to inspect the progress of her city. -But Dido was no longer quite untroubled in her happiness. -She could not hide from herself her growing love for the -Trojan hero; and she was assailed by a sense of wrong to -her dead husband.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At first she fought against her passion and called up every -<span class='pageno' id='Page_281'>281</span>resource of pride and modesty to hide it from the prince. -But the emotion of a richly dowered nature was not easily -to be kept in check; and Dido had not learned to dissemble. -The inner conflict grew daily stronger, absorbing every -thought: on the one hand drawing her irresistibly toward -Æneas, and on the other claiming fidelity to the memory -of Sichæus. At last, craving relief and counsel, she -confided in her sister Anna. But Anna was no idealist, -and her advice to Dido was the plainest commonsense. -Was she to waste all her life for the sake of faith to the -dead? It was certain that Sichæus himself would not -desire it; and why then should Dido renounce the joys of -love and motherhood? Why pine alone all her days, her -country menaced on every side by wild African tribes, -because she had no warrior at her side to make them fear? -So the argument ran, turning adroitly from questions of -sentiment to the call of patriotism and ambition. Undoubtedly -Dido was right in refusing marriage with the -barbarian chiefs who had asked for her hand; but she must -remember that she had thereby made enemies of them. -Let her consider the danger to her little state from these -jealous kings; and on the other hand let her think of the -power and glory which Carthage might win, if only it were -allied to the race of Troy. Lastly, added the astute -pleader, with a word which she knew had power to move -her sister, for her part she believed that the coming of -Æncas was ordained by heaven, and by Juno herself, the -great goddess of marriage.</p> - -<p class='c000'>No wonder that Dido’s resolution was weakened, when -every instinct of her being was thus championed, and the -only opponent was an idea, an abstraction, that even to -herself began to look fantastic. Again she begged her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_282'>282</span>guest to remain in Carthage, and the memory of Sichæus -began rapidly to fade.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in18'><em>Now Dido leads</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Æneas round the ramparts, to him shows</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The wealth of Sidon, all the town laid out,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Begins to speak, then stops, she knows not why.</em><a href='#f34' class='c011'><sup>[34]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Then at night, when the guests are gone from the banquet: -when—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>The wan moon pales her light, and waning stars</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Persuade to sleep, she in her empty halls</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Mourns all alone, and throws herself along</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The couch where he had lain.</em><a href='#f34' class='c011'><sup>[34]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Æneas himself was losing all thought of his mission in the -society of the lovely queen. Italy was forgotten in the -peace and luxury of his life; and he gave himself up to -content, without one glance beyond the present. He had -toiled so long and hard; surely he might take his ease for a -while. Moreover, it would be mere churlishness to refuse -Dido’s gracious bounty; and he could not be so ungentle. -So both the lovers wrapped themselves in a golden dream, -with reality shut far away.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>The unfinished flanking turrets cease to rise,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>No more the young men exercise in arms,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Build harbours, or rear bastions for defence;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>All work is at a standstill—giant walls</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>That frown defiance, cranes that climb the sky.</em><a href='#f34' class='c011'><sup>[34]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>All the happy toil of brain and muscle was suspended, and -Carthage, silent in the sun all day, gave itself up, like its -queen, to idleness and revelry. The weeks slipped quickly -by, and one by one the restraints which her clear spirit had -imposed were loosened or forgotten. And then the autumn -<span class='pageno' id='Page_283'>283</span>came, and the fatal day of the hunt, when Dido gave -herself without reserve or shame to her lover.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in20'><em>The nymphs</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Along the mountain-tops were heard to wail.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>That day bred death, disasters manifold;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>For now she took no heed what men might say.</em><a href='#f34' class='c011'><sup>[34]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>She who had been so proud and chaste, whose wisdom and -fidelity had been the fame of all the countries round about, -was now the prey of every evil tongue. Rumour flew from -city to city, soiling her fair name; and soon it was known -in all the jealous neighbouring lands that the queen of -Carthage had joined herself in unlawful union with Æneas, -Prince of Troy. The reputation that had been so painfully -won was quickly lost; and not one of her many qualities -were remembered. The courage and quick wit and -resource, the generous hospitality, the impartial judgment, -the kindness and tender sympathy—were all forgotten.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Dido knew of the malignance and scorn that were smouldering -about her; but she was too honest to hide her sin, and -secure in Æneas’ love, she paid no heed. Together they -recommenced the work which had lain idle so long; and as -winter came, the towers began to rise again.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But now the gods grew envious of the little barbarian state, -and Jupiter turned an angry glance upon Æneas. Was this -the end for which he had been saved from Troy—to make -his home among a savage people, heedless of the divine -command? Has he so poor a soul that he is content to -spend his days in dalliance while the fair land of Italy cries -out for a hand to govern it? Let Mercury carry to the -prince this warning from the ruler of Olympus:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in14'>“<em>With what hopes lingers he</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>‘Mongst hostile races, heedless of the great</em></div> - <div class='line'><em><span class='pageno' id='Page_284'>284</span>Ausonian line, and the Lavinian plains?</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Let him put out to sea! My last word this.</em>“<a href='#f34' class='c011'><sup>[34]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>The message fell upon Æneas with a shock of fear and -remorse. His dream was shattered: his sleeping conscience -suddenly sprang to life, and in a flash he saw the long -months spent in Carthage as treachery to the gods, to his -countrymen, and to the son who was to inherit the great -Roman state. In a rush of penitence, his first thought -was to flee instantly: to leave at once and for ever the -land that had seen his folly. But the moment after he -remembered Dido, and realized in horror all the suffering -that he would bring to her. He knew the intensity of -her love; and recalling all her kindness to him and his, he -could not summon courage to face her and tell her that -he must go. Weakly he resolved to prepare in secret for -departure; and orders were sent down to the ships to fit -out with all speed. But the unworthy act was bound to -bring disaster. Word was soon brought to the queen that -the Trojan fleet was being furtively prepared for sea, and -she leapt to the obvious conclusion. Æneas intended to -forsake her—and to go by stealth. All her frank nature -revolted at the deception. That he should wish to go at -all, lightly flinging away her love and honour, was a thing -that her own fidelity had never suspected; but to steal -away thus was baseness that drove her to fury. Her -ungoverned Oriental rage was loosed upon him.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>False as thou art, and didst thou hope, ay, hope</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>To keep thy infamous intent disguised,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And steal away in silence from my realm?</em>“<a href='#f34' class='c011'><sup>[34]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div id='DIDO' class='figcenter id003'> -<img src='images/i_315.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic001'> -<p>THE DEATH OF DIDO<br /><br /><em>Gianbattista Tiepolo</em><br /><br /><em>By Permission of Ad Braun et Cie.</em></p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_285'>285</span>But the first gust of anger past, she dropped to a softer -mood and besought him by every tender plea that her -tongue could frame, not to leave her—by their great love: -by her trust in him, and the pledge that he had given her; -by the constant service that she had paid him, and all that -she had forfeited for his sake.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Because of thee it is, the Libyan tribes,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And Nomad chieftains hate me; my own people</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Are turned against me; all because of thee</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>My woman’s honour has been blotted out,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And former fair good name whereby alone</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I held my head aloft. To whom dost thou</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Abandon me, a woman marked for death?</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>My guest, my guest! Since only by that name</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I am to know my husband!</em>“<a href='#f34' class='c011'><sup>[34]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>It would seem that her anguish must melt a heart of stone, -but Æneas remained apparently immovable. Before him -still shone the vision of the god, and in his ears Jove’s -message rang insistently. Controlling every tender impulse, -he answered in words that were made harsh by -restraint. To Dido their coldness was as cruel as death -and far more bitter. She did not know the gentle Æneas -in the grip of the force that was driving him, transforming -him into a monster of ingratitude.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>This man thrown up a beggar on my shores,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I took him in, insanely gave him up</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>A portion of my realm, from very death</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Redeemed his comrades, saved his scattered ships.</em></div> - <div class='line in18'><em>... Go! Make for Italy!</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Chased by the winds, across the wild waves seek</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>These vaunted kingdoms! But in sooth I hope,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>If the benignant Gods can aught avail,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Vengeance will strike thee midway on the rocks,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Calling and calling upon Dido’s name.</em>“<a href='#f34' class='c011'><sup>[34]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>She was borne away fainting, and Æneas, racked by pity -that he dare not show, made his way down to the harbour -<span class='pageno' id='Page_286'>286</span>to hasten the sailing of the fleet. Day by day his men -toiled with a will, for they were sick of inaction and eager -to get away, although winter was already upon them. And -watching from her tower, Dido saw each day’s work -completed with deeper misery, and a growing sense of -despair. Very soon now all would be ready; the day was -rapidly approaching when Æneas would trust himself to -that stormy winter sea, with small chance, as she knew, of -ever reaching Latium. At the thought of that final parting -and of her lover’s danger, Dido’s anger melted, and every -vestige of her pride was swept away. She could not and -would not let him go like this. At the risk of worse -humiliation still, she would make another effort to keep -him in Carthage, at least until the stormy season should be -passed. In feverish haste she called Anna and sent a -poignant message.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in16'>“<em>In pity of my love,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Let him concede this boon—the last I crave,—</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And wait propitious winds to speed his flight.</em>“<a href='#f34' class='c011'><sup>[34]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>But Æneas is inexorable, and when Anna returns to the -queen with his refusal, it adds the last intolerable touch to -her pain and shame. Nightlong she roams the palace, like -one distraught; and finding her way to the tomb of -Sichæus, she prays to die. Strange omens answer her; -and to her maddened brain it seems that the voice of her -husband is calling her to come to him. The water of her -libation turns black as she pours it upon the altar, and the -wine congeals to blood. The high gods have answered -her: they approve her purpose.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As soon as day comes, she begins with deliberate care to -make all ready for her death. Under her directions, a -great pyre is built within the courtyard, on which the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_287'>287</span>queen announces that she intends to offer a solemn sacrifice. -Every relic of Æneas is gathered and laid upon it; his -armour, his cloak and his sword; while all about it Dido -herself hangs garlands and funeral chaplets. Her sister and -her women wonder, but have no hint of her intention. -When night falls and all the palace is sunk in sleep, Dido -stands again before the altar and consecrates herself for the -sacrifice. But she cannot yet take the fatal step. She -longs for one more look from her watch-tower, down upon -the ships that are so soon to carry her lover away. So she -strains her eyes through the darkness, only to find, with the -first gleam of light, that the harbour is bare. The fleet has -sailed: Æneas, warned by a vision from Jove, has fled in -the night. A bitter cry escapes her:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in20'>“<em>Oh rare</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Fidelity and honour! And they say,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>He takes his household gods about with him,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And on his shoulders bore his aged sire!</em>“<a href='#f34' class='c011'><sup>[34]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>She calls upon the great powers of Earth and Sky and the -dreadful Underworld to avenge her wrongs; and looking -forward to the years that are to come, she invokes upon -Æneas and his descendants the curse that followed the -Roman race through many generations:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in14'>“<em>So then do you,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>My Tyrians, harry with envenomed hate</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>His race and kin through ages yet to come:</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Be this your tribute to my timeless death!...</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Let coast conflict with coast, and sea with sea.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Embattled host with host, and endless war</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Be waged, ‘twixt their and your posterity!</em>“<a href='#f34' class='c011'><sup>[34]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Then, rushing to the courtyard, she climbs the great pyre, -and grasps Æneas’ sword. For one moment, ere she falls -<span class='pageno' id='Page_288'>288</span>upon it, the frenzy lifts from her brain and shows her all -the course of her troubled life.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Lo! I have lived my life, have run the course</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Assigned to me by fate; now ‘neath the earth</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I go, the queenly shade of what I was.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>I have built a goodly city; I have seen</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Its walls complete; I have avenged my spouse,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And struck my cruel brother blow for blow!...</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>This heartless Trojan, let him from the waves</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Drink in with startled eyes the funeral fires,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And bear with him the presage of my death!</em>”<a href='#f34' class='c011'><sup>[34]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>So the founder of Carthage died; and the father of great -Rome, looking back with remorseful eyes from his fleeing -ship, saw the flames of her pyre reddening the dawn.</p> - -<hr class='c012' /> - -<div class='footnote' id='f34'> -<p class='c000'><span class='label'><a href='#r34'>34</a>. </span>From Sir Theodore Martin’s translation of the <cite>Æneid</cite> (Wm. -Blackwood & Sons).</p> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_289'>289</span> - <h2 class='c005'><em>Index</em></h2> -</div> - -<ul class='index c002'> - <li class='c013'>Absyrtus, <a href='#Page_229'>229</a>, <a href='#Page_230'>230</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Achilles, <a href='#Page_24'>24</a>, <a href='#Page_30'>30</a>, <a href='#Page_33'>33</a>, <a href='#Page_34'>34</a>, <a href='#Page_40'>40</a>, <a href='#Page_41'>41</a>, <a href='#Page_139'>139</a>, <a href='#Page_140'>140</a>, <a href='#Page_257'>257</a>, <a href='#Page_266'>266</a>, <a href='#Page_274'>274</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Admetus, <a href='#Page_212'>212</a>, <a href='#Page_213'>213</a>, <a href='#Page_214'>214</a>, <a href='#Page_215'>215</a>, <a href='#Page_216'>216</a>, <a href='#Page_217'>217</a>, <a href='#Page_218'>218</a>, <a href='#Page_219'>219</a>, <a href='#Page_220'>220</a>, <a href='#Page_221'>221</a>, <a href='#Page_222'>222</a>, <a href='#Page_223'>223</a>, <a href='#Page_224'>224</a>, <a href='#Page_225'>225</a>, <a href='#Page_226'>226</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Adrastus, <a href='#Page_190'>190</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Aeêtes, <a href='#Page_229'>229</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Ægeus, <a href='#Page_238'>238</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Æneas, <a href='#Page_37'>37</a>, <a href='#Page_273'>273</a>, <a href='#Page_274'>274</a>, <a href='#Page_275'>275</a>, <a href='#Page_276'>276</a>, <a href='#Page_277'>277</a>, <a href='#Page_278'>278</a>, <a href='#Page_279'>279</a>, <a href='#Page_280'>280</a>, <a href='#Page_281'>281</a>, <a href='#Page_282'>282</a>, <a href='#Page_283'>283</a>, <a href='#Page_284'>284</a>, <a href='#Page_285'>285</a>, <a href='#Page_286'>286</a>, <a href='#Page_287'>287</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Æschylus, <a href='#Page_101'>101</a>, <a href='#Page_102'>102</a>, <a href='#Page_103'>103</a>, <a href='#Page_104'>104</a>, <a href='#Page_118'>118</a>, <a href='#Page_132'>132</a>, <a href='#Page_133'>133</a>, <a href='#Page_136'>136</a>, <a href='#Page_137'>137</a>, <a href='#Page_139'>139</a>, <a href='#Page_148'>148</a>, <a href='#Page_150'>150</a>, <a href='#Page_151'>151</a>, <a href='#Page_163'>163</a>, <a href='#Page_164'>164</a>, <a href='#Page_165'>165</a>, <a href='#Page_168'>168</a>, <a href='#Page_187'>187</a>, <a href='#Page_190'>190</a>, <a href='#Page_209'>209</a>, <a href='#Page_257'>257</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Aeolus, King, <a href='#Page_62'>62</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Agamemnon, <a href='#Page_35'>35</a>, <a href='#Page_39'>39</a>, <a href='#Page_58'>58</a>, <a href='#Page_59'>59</a>, <a href='#Page_103'>103</a>, <a href='#Page_104'>104</a>, <a href='#Page_105'>105</a>, <a href='#Page_106'>106</a>, <a href='#Page_107'>107</a>, <a href='#Page_108'>108</a>, <a href='#Page_109'>109</a>, <a href='#Page_110'>110</a>, <a href='#Page_111'>111</a>, <a href='#Page_112'>112</a>, <a href='#Page_113'>113</a>, <a href='#Page_114'>114</a>, <a href='#Page_117'>117</a>, <a href='#Page_118'>118</a>, <a href='#Page_120'>120</a>, <a href='#Page_127'>127</a>, <a href='#Page_129'>129</a>, <a href='#Page_136'>136</a>, <a href='#Page_140'>140</a>, <a href='#Page_142'>142</a>, <a href='#Page_143'>143</a>, <a href='#Page_146'>146</a>, <a href='#Page_152'>152</a>, <a href='#Page_256'>256</a>, <a href='#Page_257'>257</a>, <a href='#Page_258'>258</a>, <a href='#Page_259'>259</a>, <a href='#Page_262'>262</a>, <a href='#Page_266'>266</a>, <a href='#Page_267'>267</a>, <a href='#Page_268'>268</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Aigeus, <a href='#Page_190'>190</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Ajax, <a href='#Page_23'>23</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Alcestis, <a href='#Page_209'>209</a>, <a href='#Page_210'>210</a>, <a href='#Page_211'>211</a>, <a href='#Page_212'>212</a>, <a href='#Page_213'>213</a>, <a href='#Page_214'>214</a>, <a href='#Page_215'>215</a>, <a href='#Page_216'>216</a>, <a href='#Page_217'>217</a>, <a href='#Page_218'>218</a>, <a href='#Page_220'>220</a>, <a href='#Page_221'>221</a>, <a href='#Page_222'>222</a>, <a href='#Page_223'>223</a>, <a href='#Page_224'>224</a>, <a href='#Page_225'>225</a>, <a href='#Page_226'>226</a>, <a href='#Page_227'>227</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Alcinous, <a href='#Page_60'>60</a>, <a href='#Page_62'>62</a>, <a href='#Page_85'>85</a>, <a href='#Page_90'>90</a>, <a href='#Page_93'>93</a>, <a href='#Page_94'>94</a>, <a href='#Page_97'>97</a>, <a href='#Page_230'>230</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Alcmena, <a href='#Page_42'>42</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Andromache, <a href='#Page_29'>29</a>, <a href='#Page_30'>30</a>, <a href='#Page_31'>31</a>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_33'>33</a>, <a href='#Page_34'>34</a>, <a href='#Page_35'>35</a>, <a href='#Page_36'>36</a>, <a href='#Page_37'>37</a>, <a href='#Page_38'>38</a>, <a href='#Page_140'>140</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Andromeda, <a href='#Page_22'>22</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Anna, <a href='#Page_281'>281</a>, <a href='#Page_286'>286</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Antigone, <a href='#Page_22'>22</a>, <a href='#Page_150'>150</a>, <a href='#Page_166'>166</a>, <a href='#Page_171'>171</a>, <a href='#Page_186'>186</a>, <a href='#Page_187'>187</a>, <a href='#Page_188'>188</a>, <a href='#Page_189'>189</a>, <a href='#Page_191'>191</a>, <a href='#Page_192'>192</a>, <a href='#Page_193'>193</a>, <a href='#Page_194'>194</a>, <a href='#Page_195'>195</a>, <a href='#Page_196'>196</a>, <a href='#Page_199'>199</a>, <a href='#Page_200'>200</a>, <a href='#Page_201'>201</a>, <a href='#Page_202'>202</a>, <a href='#Page_203'>203</a>, <a href='#Page_204'>204</a>, <a href='#Page_205'>205</a>, <a href='#Page_206'>206</a>, <a href='#Page_207'>207</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Antinous, <a href='#Page_42'>42</a>, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a>, <a href='#Page_47'>47</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Aphrodite, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>, <a href='#Page_19'>19</a>, <a href='#Page_20'>20</a>, <a href='#Page_23'>23</a>, <a href='#Page_25'>25</a>, <a href='#Page_26'>26</a>, <a href='#Page_244'>244</a>, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a>, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a>, <a href='#Page_250'>250</a>, <a href='#Page_255'>255</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Apollo, <a href='#Page_97'>97</a>, <a href='#Page_105'>105</a>, <a href='#Page_109'>109</a>, <a href='#Page_112'>112</a>, <a href='#Page_113'>113</a>, <a href='#Page_118'>118</a>, <a href='#Page_123'>123</a>, <a href='#Page_126'>126</a>, <a href='#Page_129'>129</a>, <a href='#Page_131'>131</a>, <a href='#Page_133'>133</a>, <a href='#Page_135'>135</a>, <a href='#Page_137'>137</a>, <a href='#Page_140'>140</a>, <a href='#Page_144'>144</a>, <a href='#Page_146'>146</a>, <a href='#Page_168'>168</a>, <a href='#Page_169'>169</a>, <a href='#Page_172'>172</a>, <a href='#Page_173'>173</a>, <a href='#Page_181'>181</a>, <a href='#Page_189'>189</a>, <a href='#Page_212'>212</a>, <a href='#Page_213'>213</a>, <a href='#Page_214'>214</a>, <a href='#Page_226'>226</a>, <a href='#Page_238'>238</a>, <a href='#Page_258'>258</a>, <a href='#Page_271'>271</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Ares, <a href='#Page_21'>21</a>, <a href='#Page_40'>40</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Arete, Queen, <a href='#Page_85'>85</a>, <a href='#Page_97'>97</a>, <a href='#Page_230'>230</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Argus, <a href='#Page_157'>157</a>, <a href='#Page_158'>158</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Artemis, <a href='#Page_92'>92</a>, <a href='#Page_93'>93</a>, <a href='#Page_213'>213</a>, <a href='#Page_244'>244</a>, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a>, <a href='#Page_247'>247</a>, <a href='#Page_255'>255</a>, <a href='#Page_257'>257</a>, <a href='#Page_258'>258</a>, <a href='#Page_261'>261</a>, <a href='#Page_262'>262</a>, <a href='#Page_271'>271</a>, <a href='#Page_272'>272</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Astyanax, <a href='#Page_35'>35</a>, <a href='#Page_36'>36</a>, <a href='#Page_37'>37</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Atè, <a href='#Page_115'>115</a>, <a href='#Page_132'>132</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Athena, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>, <a href='#Page_19'>19</a>, <a href='#Page_24'>24</a>, <a href='#Page_30'>30</a>, <a href='#Page_31'>31</a>, <a href='#Page_42'>42</a>, <a href='#Page_44'>44</a>, <a href='#Page_45'>45</a>, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a>, <a href='#Page_50'>50</a>, <a href='#Page_55'>55</a>, <a href='#Page_76'>76</a>, <a href='#Page_85'>85</a>, <a href='#Page_87'>87</a>, <a href='#Page_88'>88</a>, <a href='#Page_89'>89</a>, <a href='#Page_92'>92</a>, <a href='#Page_93'>93</a>, <a href='#Page_95'>95</a>, <a href='#Page_97'>97</a>, <a href='#Page_137'>137</a>, <a href='#Page_256'>256</a>, <a href='#Page_272'>272</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Athene (<em>see</em> Athena)</li> - <li class='c013'>Atlas, <a href='#Page_76'>76</a>, <a href='#Page_151'>151</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Augustus, <a href='#Page_273'>273</a></li> - <li class='c002'>Bacchus, <a href='#Page_280'>280</a></li> - <li class='c002'>Cadmus, <a href='#Page_149'>149</a>, <a href='#Page_163'>163</a>, <a href='#Page_206'>206</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Calypso, <a href='#Page_43'>43</a>, <a href='#Page_60'>60</a>, <a href='#Page_73'>73</a>, <a href='#Page_74'>74</a>, <a href='#Page_75'>75</a>, <a href='#Page_76'>76</a>, <a href='#Page_77'>77</a>, <a href='#Page_78'>78</a>, <a href='#Page_79'>79</a>, <a href='#Page_81'>81</a>, <a href='#Page_82'>82</a>, <a href='#Page_83'>83</a>, <a href='#Page_84'>84</a>, <a href='#Page_87'>87</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Camilla, <a href='#Page_12'>12</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Cassandra, <a href='#Page_35'>35</a>, <a href='#Page_109'>109</a>, <a href='#Page_112'>112</a>, <a href='#Page_135'>135</a>, <a href='#Page_136'>136</a>, <a href='#Page_137'>137</a>, <a href='#Page_138'>138</a>, <a href='#Page_139'>139</a>, <a href='#Page_140'>140</a>, <a href='#Page_141'>141</a>, <a href='#Page_142'>142</a>, <a href='#Page_143'>143</a>, <a href='#Page_144'>144</a>, <a href='#Page_145'>145</a>, <a href='#Page_164'>164</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Castor, <a href='#Page_23'>23</a></li> - <li class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_290'>290</span>Charon, <a href='#Page_218'>218</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Charybdis, <a href='#Page_72'>72</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Chiron, <a href='#Page_228'>228</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Chrysothomis, <a href='#Page_165'>165</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Cilix, <a href='#Page_149'>149</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Circe, <a href='#Page_60'>60</a>, <a href='#Page_62'>62</a>, <a href='#Page_63'>63</a>, <a href='#Page_64'>64</a>, <a href='#Page_65'>65</a>, <a href='#Page_66'>66</a>, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>, <a href='#Page_68'>68</a>, <a href='#Page_69'>69</a>, <a href='#Page_70'>70</a>, <a href='#Page_71'>71</a>, <a href='#Page_72'>72</a>, <a href='#Page_73'>73</a>, <a href='#Page_74'>74</a>, <a href='#Page_230'>230</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Clytemnestra, <a href='#Page_102'>102</a>, <a href='#Page_103'>103</a>, <a href='#Page_104'>104</a>, <a href='#Page_105'>105</a>, <a href='#Page_106'>106</a>, <a href='#Page_107'>107</a>, <a href='#Page_108'>108</a>, <a href='#Page_109'>109</a>, <a href='#Page_110'>110</a>, <a href='#Page_112'>112</a>, <a href='#Page_113'>113</a>, <a href='#Page_114'>114</a>, <a href='#Page_115'>115</a>, <a href='#Page_116'>116</a>, <a href='#Page_117'>117</a>, <a href='#Page_118'>118</a>, <a href='#Page_119'>119</a>, <a href='#Page_120'>120</a>, <a href='#Page_121'>121</a>, <a href='#Page_123'>123</a>, <a href='#Page_127'>127</a>, <a href='#Page_129'>129</a>, <a href='#Page_130'>130</a>, <a href='#Page_131'>131</a>, <a href='#Page_137'>137</a>, <a href='#Page_143'>143</a>, <a href='#Page_144'>144</a>, <a href='#Page_164'>164</a>, <a href='#Page_165'>165</a>, <a href='#Page_256'>256</a>, <a href='#Page_257'>257</a>, <a href='#Page_258'>258</a>, <a href='#Page_266'>266</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Creon, <a href='#Page_12'>12</a>, <a href='#Page_171'>171</a>, <a href='#Page_172'>172</a>, <a href='#Page_173'>173</a>, <a href='#Page_174'>174</a>, <a href='#Page_176'>176</a>, <a href='#Page_177'>177</a>, <a href='#Page_178'>178</a>, <a href='#Page_185'>185</a>, <a href='#Page_186'>186</a>, <a href='#Page_187'>187</a>, <a href='#Page_188'>188</a>, <a href='#Page_190'>190</a>, <a href='#Page_193'>193</a>, <a href='#Page_194'>194</a>, <a href='#Page_196'>196</a>, <a href='#Page_197'>197</a>, <a href='#Page_198'>198</a>, <a href='#Page_199'>199</a>, <a href='#Page_200'>200</a>, <a href='#Page_201'>201</a>, <a href='#Page_202'>202</a>, <a href='#Page_203'>203</a>, <a href='#Page_204'>204</a>, <a href='#Page_206'>206</a>, <a href='#Page_207'>207</a>, <a href='#Page_231'>231</a>, <a href='#Page_232'>232</a>, <a href='#Page_234'>234</a>, <a href='#Page_235'>235</a>, <a href='#Page_241'>241</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Creusa, <a href='#Page_276'>276</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Cronos, <a href='#Page_151'>151</a>, <a href='#Page_157'>157</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Cyclôpes, <a href='#Page_269'>269</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Cypris, <a href='#Page_244'>244</a>, <a href='#Page_250'>250</a>, <a href='#Page_251'>251</a></li> - <li class='c002'>Diana, <a href='#Page_277'>277</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Dido, <a href='#Page_10'>10</a>, <a href='#Page_12'>12</a>, <a href='#Page_273'>273</a>, <a href='#Page_274'>274</a>, <a href='#Page_275'>275</a>, <a href='#Page_276'>276</a>, <a href='#Page_277'>277</a>, <a href='#Page_279'>279</a>, <a href='#Page_280'>280</a>, <a href='#Page_281'>281</a>, <a href='#Page_282'>282</a>, <a href='#Page_283'>283</a>, <a href='#Page_284'>284</a>, <a href='#Page_285'>285</a>, <a href='#Page_286'>286</a>, <a href='#Page_287'>287</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Diomedes, <a href='#Page_30'>30</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Dionysus, <a href='#Page_101'>101</a></li> - <li class='c002'>Eëtion, <a href='#Page_30'>30</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Egisthus, <a href='#Page_106'>106</a>, <a href='#Page_107'>107</a>, <a href='#Page_115'>115</a>, <a href='#Page_117'>117</a>, <a href='#Page_121'>121</a>, <a href='#Page_124'>124</a>, <a href='#Page_127'>127</a>, <a href='#Page_130'>130</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Electra, <a href='#Page_12'>12</a>, <a href='#Page_116'>116</a>, <a href='#Page_118'>118</a>, <a href='#Page_119'>119</a>, <a href='#Page_120'>120</a>, <a href='#Page_121'>121</a>, <a href='#Page_123'>123</a>, <a href='#Page_124'>124</a>, <a href='#Page_125'>125</a>, <a href='#Page_126'>126</a>, <a href='#Page_127'>127</a>, <a href='#Page_128'>128</a>, <a href='#Page_129'>129</a>, <a href='#Page_130'>130</a>, <a href='#Page_132'>132</a>, <a href='#Page_133'>133</a>, <a href='#Page_134'>134</a>, <a href='#Page_164'>164</a>, <a href='#Page_166'>166</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Elpenor, <a href='#Page_71'>71</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Enone, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>, <a href='#Page_21'>21</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Epaphus, <a href='#Page_149'>149</a>, <a href='#Page_161'>161</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Epicasta, <a href='#Page_167'>167</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Erinys, <a href='#Page_115'>115</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Eteocles, <a href='#Page_171'>171</a>, <a href='#Page_188'>188</a>, <a href='#Page_190'>190</a>, <a href='#Page_191'>191</a>, <a href='#Page_193'>193</a>, <a href='#Page_197'>197</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Euripides, <a href='#Page_10'>10</a>, <a href='#Page_35'>35</a>, <a href='#Page_102'>102</a>, <a href='#Page_132'>132</a>, <a href='#Page_133'>133</a>, <a href='#Page_136'>136</a>, <a href='#Page_137'>137</a>, <a href='#Page_150'>150</a>, <a href='#Page_209'>209</a>, <a href='#Page_210'>210</a>, <a href='#Page_211'>211</a>, <a href='#Page_212'>212</a>, <a href='#Page_214'>214</a>, <a href='#Page_231'>231</a>, <a href='#Page_243'>243</a>, <a href='#Page_247'>247</a>, <a href='#Page_256'>256</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Europa, <a href='#Page_149'>149</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Euryclea, <a href='#Page_50'>50</a>, <a href='#Page_53'>53</a>, <a href='#Page_57'>57</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Eurydice, <a href='#Page_208'>208</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Eurylochus, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Eurystheus, <a href='#Page_216'>216</a>, <a href='#Page_220'>220</a></li> - <li class='c002'>Force, <a href='#Page_152'>152</a></li> - <li class='c002'>Glaucé, <a href='#Page_231'>231</a>, <a href='#Page_237'>237</a>, <a href='#Page_239'>239</a>, <a href='#Page_240'>240</a>, <a href='#Page_241'>241</a></li> - <li class='c002'>Hæmon, <a href='#Page_202'>202</a>, <a href='#Page_203'>203</a>, <a href='#Page_204'>204</a>, <a href='#Page_207'>207</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Hector, <a href='#Page_21'>21</a>, <a href='#Page_24'>24</a>, <a href='#Page_25'>25</a>, <a href='#Page_29'>29</a>, <a href='#Page_30'>30</a>, <a href='#Page_31'>31</a>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_33'>33</a>, <a href='#Page_34'>34</a>, <a href='#Page_35'>35</a>, <a href='#Page_36'>36</a>, <a href='#Page_37'>37</a>, <a href='#Page_38'>38</a>, <a href='#Page_139'>139</a>, <a href='#Page_273'>273</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Hecuba, <a href='#Page_29'>29</a>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_35'>35</a>, <a href='#Page_36'>36</a>, <a href='#Page_140'>140</a>, <a href='#Page_141'>141</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Hekabe (<em>see</em> Hecuba)</li> - <li class='c013'>Helen, <a href='#Page_12'>12</a>, <a href='#Page_15'>15</a>, <a href='#Page_16'>16</a>, <a href='#Page_17'>17</a>, <a href='#Page_19'>19</a>, <a href='#Page_20'>20</a>, <a href='#Page_21'>21</a>, <a href='#Page_22'>22</a>, <a href='#Page_23'>23</a>, <a href='#Page_24'>24</a>, <a href='#Page_25'>25</a>, <a href='#Page_26'>26</a>, <a href='#Page_27'>27</a>, <a href='#Page_28'>28</a>, <a href='#Page_29'>29</a>, <a href='#Page_30'>30</a>, <a href='#Page_35'>35</a>, <a href='#Page_37'>37</a>, <a href='#Page_41'>41</a>, <a href='#Page_42'>42</a>, <a href='#Page_43'>43</a>, <a href='#Page_103'>103</a>, <a href='#Page_135'>135</a>, <a href='#Page_138'>138</a>, <a href='#Page_141'>141</a>, <a href='#Page_259'>259</a>, <a href='#Page_265'>265</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Helenus, <a href='#Page_37'>37</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Hephæstus, <a href='#Page_152'>152</a>, <a href='#Page_153'>153</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Hera, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>, <a href='#Page_19'>19</a>, <a href='#Page_24'>24</a>, <a href='#Page_33'>33</a>, <a href='#Page_98'>98</a>, <a href='#Page_148'>148</a>, <a href='#Page_150'>150</a>, <a href='#Page_156'>156</a>, <a href='#Page_169'>169</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Heracles, <a href='#Page_161'>161</a>, <a href='#Page_220'>220</a>, <a href='#Page_221'>221</a>, <a href='#Page_223'>223</a>, <a href='#Page_224'>224</a>, <a href='#Page_225'>225</a>, <a href='#Page_226'>226</a>, <a href='#Page_270'>270</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Hermes, <a href='#Page_65'>65</a>, <a href='#Page_66'>66</a>, <a href='#Page_77'>77</a>, <a href='#Page_78'>78</a>, <a href='#Page_79'>79</a>, <a href='#Page_119'>119</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Hesiod, <a href='#Page_152'>152</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Hippolytus, <a href='#Page_243'>243</a>, <a href='#Page_244'>244</a>, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a>, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a>, <a href='#Page_249'>249</a>, <a href='#Page_251'>251</a>, <a href='#Page_252'>252</a>, <a href='#Page_253'>253</a>, <a href='#Page_254'>254</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Homer, <a href='#Page_9'>9</a>, <a href='#Page_11'>11</a>, <a href='#Page_12'>12</a>, <a href='#Page_16'>16</a>, <a href='#Page_25'>25</a>, <a href='#Page_29'>29</a>, <a href='#Page_58'>58</a>, <a href='#Page_65'>65</a>, <a href='#Page_73'>73</a>, <a href='#Page_85'>85</a>, <a href='#Page_87'>87</a>, <a href='#Page_99'>99</a>, <a href='#Page_163'>163</a>, <a href='#Page_167'>167</a>, <a href='#Page_274'>274</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Hymen, <a href='#Page_141'>141</a></li> - <li class='c002'>Icarius, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a>, <a href='#Page_59'>59</a>, <a href='#Page_60'>60</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Idomeneus, <a href='#Page_23'>23</a>, <a href='#Page_139'>139</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Ilione, <a href='#Page_280'>280</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Inachus, <a href='#Page_150'>150</a>, <a href='#Page_157'>157</a>, <a href='#Page_158'>158</a></li> - <li class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_291'>291</span>Io, <a href='#Page_148'>148</a>, <a href='#Page_149'>149</a>, <a href='#Page_150'>150</a>, <a href='#Page_151'>151</a>, <a href='#Page_157'>157</a>, <a href='#Page_158'>158</a>, <a href='#Page_160'>160</a>, <a href='#Page_161'>161</a>, <a href='#Page_162'>162</a>, <a href='#Page_164'>164</a>, <a href='#Page_167'>167</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Iphigenia, <a href='#Page_103'>103</a>, <a href='#Page_104'>104</a>, <a href='#Page_105'>105</a>, <a href='#Page_121'>121</a>, <a href='#Page_211'>211</a>, <a href='#Page_256'>256</a>, <a href='#Page_257'>257</a>, <a href='#Page_259'>259</a>, <a href='#Page_260'>260</a>, <a href='#Page_261'>261</a>, <a href='#Page_262'>262</a>, <a href='#Page_263'>263</a>, <a href='#Page_264'>264</a>, <a href='#Page_265'>265</a>, <a href='#Page_267'>267</a>, <a href='#Page_268'>268</a>, <a href='#Page_269'>269</a>, <a href='#Page_270'>270</a>, <a href='#Page_271'>271</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Ismene, <a href='#Page_166'>166</a>, <a href='#Page_171'>171</a>, <a href='#Page_192'>192</a>, <a href='#Page_194'>194</a>, <a href='#Page_195'>195</a>, <a href='#Page_196'>196</a>, <a href='#Page_201'>201</a>, <a href='#Page_202'>202</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Iulus, <a href='#Page_276'>276</a></li> - <li class='c002'>Jason, <a href='#Page_228'>228</a>, <a href='#Page_229'>229</a>, <a href='#Page_230'>230</a>, <a href='#Page_231'>231</a>, <a href='#Page_232'>232</a>, <a href='#Page_233'>233</a>, <a href='#Page_234'>234</a>, <a href='#Page_235'>235</a>, <a href='#Page_236'>236</a>, <a href='#Page_237'>237</a>, <a href='#Page_238'>238</a>, <a href='#Page_239'>239</a>, <a href='#Page_240'>240</a>, <a href='#Page_242'>242</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Jocasta, <a href='#Page_150'>150</a>, <a href='#Page_163'>163</a>, <a href='#Page_166'>166</a>, <a href='#Page_167'>167</a>, <a href='#Page_168'>168</a>, <a href='#Page_170'>170</a>, <a href='#Page_171'>171</a>, <a href='#Page_177'>177</a>, <a href='#Page_178'>178</a>, <a href='#Page_179'>179</a>, <a href='#Page_180'>180</a>, <a href='#Page_181'>181</a>, <a href='#Page_182'>182</a>, <a href='#Page_183'>183</a>, <a href='#Page_184'>184</a>, <a href='#Page_185'>185</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Jove, <a href='#Page_108'>108</a>, <a href='#Page_287'>287</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Juno, <a href='#Page_276'>276</a>, <a href='#Page_280'>280</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Jupiter, <a href='#Page_280'>280</a>, <a href='#Page_283'>283</a></li> - <li class='c002'>Laertes, <a href='#Page_59'>59</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Laius, <a href='#Page_168'>168</a>, <a href='#Page_169'>169</a>, <a href='#Page_170'>170</a>, <a href='#Page_171'>171</a>, <a href='#Page_173'>173</a>, <a href='#Page_175'>175</a>, <a href='#Page_178'>178</a>, <a href='#Page_179'>179</a>, <a href='#Page_181'>181</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Leto, <a href='#Page_261'>261</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Loxias, <a href='#Page_141'>141</a>, <a href='#Page_180'>180</a></li> - <li class='c002'>Medea, <a href='#Page_211'>211</a>, <a href='#Page_228'>228</a>, <a href='#Page_229'>229</a>, <a href='#Page_230'>230</a>, <a href='#Page_231'>231</a>, <a href='#Page_232'>232</a>, <a href='#Page_234'>234</a>, <a href='#Page_235'>235</a>, <a href='#Page_236'>236</a>, <a href='#Page_238'>238</a>, <a href='#Page_239'>239</a>, <a href='#Page_240'>240</a>, <a href='#Page_241'>241</a>, <a href='#Page_242'>242</a>, <a href='#Page_243'>243</a>, <a href='#Page_247'>247</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Medon, <a href='#Page_48'>48</a>, <a href='#Page_49'>49</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Menelaus, <a href='#Page_17'>17</a>, <a href='#Page_19'>19</a>, <a href='#Page_20'>20</a>, <a href='#Page_21'>21</a>, <a href='#Page_22'>22</a>, <a href='#Page_23'>23</a>, <a href='#Page_25'>25</a>, <a href='#Page_26'>26</a>, <a href='#Page_27'>27</a>, <a href='#Page_35'>35</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Mercury, <a href='#Page_283'>283</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Merope, <a href='#Page_169'>169</a>, <a href='#Page_180'>180</a>, <a href='#Page_182'>182</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Minos, <a href='#Page_53'>53</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Mycene, <a href='#Page_42'>42</a></li> - <li class='c002'>Nausicaa, <a href='#Page_60'>60</a>, <a href='#Page_85'>85</a>, <a href='#Page_86'>86</a>, <a href='#Page_87'>87</a>, <a href='#Page_88'>88</a>, <a href='#Page_89'>89</a>, <a href='#Page_90'>90</a>, <a href='#Page_91'>91</a>, <a href='#Page_93'>93</a>, <a href='#Page_94'>94</a>, <a href='#Page_95'>95</a>, <a href='#Page_96'>96</a>, <a href='#Page_97'>97</a>, <a href='#Page_98'>98</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Neoptolemus, <a href='#Page_140'>140</a></li> - <li class='c002'>Oceanus, <a href='#Page_153'>153</a>, <a href='#Page_154'>154</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Odysseus, <a href='#Page_23'>23</a>, <a href='#Page_27'>27</a>, <a href='#Page_39'>39</a>, <a href='#Page_40'>40</a>, <a href='#Page_41'>41</a>, <a href='#Page_43'>43</a>, <a href='#Page_44'>44</a>, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a>, <a href='#Page_48'>48</a>, <a href='#Page_50'>50</a>, <a href='#Page_51'>51</a>, <a href='#Page_52'>52</a>, <a href='#Page_53'>53</a>, <a href='#Page_54'>54</a>, <a href='#Page_55'>55</a>, <a href='#Page_56'>56</a>, <a href='#Page_57'>57</a>, <a href='#Page_58'>58</a>, <a href='#Page_59'>59</a>, <a href='#Page_60'>60</a>, <a href='#Page_61'>61</a>, <a href='#Page_62'>62</a>, <a href='#Page_63'>63</a>, <a href='#Page_65'>65</a>, <a href='#Page_66'>66</a>, <a href='#Page_67'>67</a>, <a href='#Page_68'>68</a>, <a href='#Page_69'>69</a>, <a href='#Page_71'>71</a>, <a href='#Page_72'>72</a>, <a href='#Page_73'>73</a>, <a href='#Page_74'>74</a>, <a href='#Page_75'>75</a>, <a href='#Page_76'>76</a>, <a href='#Page_77'>77</a>, <a href='#Page_78'>78</a>, <a href='#Page_79'>79</a>, <a href='#Page_80'>80</a>, <a href='#Page_81'>81</a>, <a href='#Page_82'>82</a>, <a href='#Page_83'>83</a>, <a href='#Page_84'>84</a>, <a href='#Page_85'>85</a>, <a href='#Page_87'>87</a>, <a href='#Page_88'>88</a>, <a href='#Page_89'>89</a>, <a href='#Page_90'>90</a>, <a href='#Page_92'>92</a>, <a href='#Page_93'>93</a>, <a href='#Page_94'>94</a>, <a href='#Page_96'>96</a>, <a href='#Page_97'>97</a>, <a href='#Page_98'>98</a>, <a href='#Page_140'>140</a>, <a href='#Page_274'>274</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Œdipus, <a href='#Page_12'>12</a>, <a href='#Page_166'>166</a>, <a href='#Page_167'>167</a>, <a href='#Page_168'>168</a>, <a href='#Page_169'>169</a>, <a href='#Page_170'>170</a>, <a href='#Page_171'>171</a>, <a href='#Page_172'>172</a>, <a href='#Page_173'>173</a>, <a href='#Page_174'>174</a>, <a href='#Page_175'>175</a>, <a href='#Page_176'>176</a>, <a href='#Page_177'>177</a>, <a href='#Page_178'>178</a>, <a href='#Page_179'>179</a>, <a href='#Page_180'>180</a>, <a href='#Page_181'>181</a>, <a href='#Page_182'>182</a>, <a href='#Page_183'>183</a>, <a href='#Page_184'>184</a>, <a href='#Page_185'>185</a>, <a href='#Page_187'>187</a>, <a href='#Page_188'>188</a>, <a href='#Page_189'>189</a>, <a href='#Page_190'>190</a>, <a href='#Page_191'>191</a>, <a href='#Page_192'>192</a>, <a href='#Page_195'>195</a>, <a href='#Page_201'>201</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Orestes, <a href='#Page_118'>118</a>, <a href='#Page_119'>119</a>, <a href='#Page_121'>121</a>, <a href='#Page_122'>122</a>, <a href='#Page_123'>123</a>, <a href='#Page_124'>124</a>, <a href='#Page_125'>125</a>, <a href='#Page_126'>126</a>, <a href='#Page_127'>127</a>, <a href='#Page_128'>128</a>, <a href='#Page_129'>129</a>, <a href='#Page_130'>130</a>, <a href='#Page_131'>131</a>, <a href='#Page_133'>133</a>, <a href='#Page_164'>164</a>, <a href='#Page_165'>165</a>, <a href='#Page_256'>256</a>, <a href='#Page_257'>257</a>, <a href='#Page_258'>258</a>, <a href='#Page_259'>259</a>, <a href='#Page_260'>260</a>, <a href='#Page_261'>261</a>, <a href='#Page_262'>262</a>, <a href='#Page_263'>263</a>, <a href='#Page_264'>264</a>, <a href='#Page_265'>265</a>, <a href='#Page_266'>266</a>, <a href='#Page_267'>267</a>, <a href='#Page_268'>268</a>, <a href='#Page_269'>269</a>, <a href='#Page_270'>270</a>, <a href='#Page_272'>272</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Othryoneus, <a href='#Page_138'>138</a></li> - <li class='c002'>Paris, <a href='#Page_17'>17</a>, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>, <a href='#Page_19'>19</a>, <a href='#Page_20'>20</a>, <a href='#Page_21'>21</a>, <a href='#Page_23'>23</a>, <a href='#Page_29'>29</a>, <a href='#Page_30'>30</a>, <a href='#Page_137'>137</a>, <a href='#Page_138'>138</a>, <a href='#Page_276'>276</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Patroclus, <a href='#Page_33'>33</a>, <a href='#Page_34'>34</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Pelias, <a href='#Page_212'>212</a>, <a href='#Page_228'>228</a>, <a href='#Page_230'>230</a>, <a href='#Page_231'>231</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Pelops, <a href='#Page_262'>262</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Penelope, <a href='#Page_39'>39</a>, <a href='#Page_41'>41</a>, <a href='#Page_42'>42</a>, <a href='#Page_43'>43</a>, <a href='#Page_44'>44</a>, <a href='#Page_45'>45</a>, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a>, <a href='#Page_47'>47</a>, <a href='#Page_48'>48</a>, <a href='#Page_49'>49</a>, <a href='#Page_50'>50</a>, <a href='#Page_51'>51</a>, <a href='#Page_52'>52</a>, <a href='#Page_53'>53</a>, <a href='#Page_54'>54</a>, <a href='#Page_55'>55</a>, <a href='#Page_56'>56</a>, <a href='#Page_57'>57</a>, <a href='#Page_58'>58</a>, <a href='#Page_59'>59</a>, <a href='#Page_60'>60</a>, <a href='#Page_61'>61</a>, <a href='#Page_62'>62</a>, <a href='#Page_75'>75</a>, <a href='#Page_79'>79</a>, <a href='#Page_82'>82</a>, <a href='#Page_86'>86</a>, <a href='#Page_87'>87</a>, <a href='#Page_163'>163</a>, <a href='#Page_164'>164</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Persephone, <a href='#Page_69'>69</a>, <a href='#Page_70'>70</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Phædra, <a href='#Page_211'>211</a>, <a href='#Page_243'>243</a>, <a href='#Page_244'>244</a>, <a href='#Page_245'>245</a>, <a href='#Page_246'>246</a>, <a href='#Page_247'>247</a>, <a href='#Page_248'>248</a>, <a href='#Page_249'>249</a>, <a href='#Page_250'>250</a>, <a href='#Page_251'>251</a>, <a href='#Page_252'>252</a>, <a href='#Page_254'>254</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Phemius, <a href='#Page_45'>45</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Pheres, <a href='#Page_222'>222</a>, <a href='#Page_223'>223</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Phoebus, <a href='#Page_173'>173</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Pollux, <a href='#Page_23'>23</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Polybus, <a href='#Page_168'>168</a>, <a href='#Page_169'>169</a>, <a href='#Page_180'>180</a>, <a href='#Page_181'>181</a>, <a href='#Page_182'>182</a>, <a href='#Page_183'>183</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Polynices, <a href='#Page_171'>171</a>, <a href='#Page_188'>188</a>, <a href='#Page_190'>190</a>, <a href='#Page_191'>191</a>, <a href='#Page_192'>192</a>, <a href='#Page_193'>193</a>, <a href='#Page_194'>194</a>, <a href='#Page_196'>196</a>, <a href='#Page_197'>197</a>, <a href='#Page_198'>198</a>, <a href='#Page_207'>207</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Polyxena, <a href='#Page_140'>140</a></li> - <li class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_292'>292</span>Poseidon, <a href='#Page_27'>27</a>, <a href='#Page_39'>39</a>, <a href='#Page_40'>40</a>, <a href='#Page_87'>87</a>, <a href='#Page_88'>88</a>, <a href='#Page_94'>94</a>, <a href='#Page_189'>189</a>, <a href='#Page_191'>191</a>, <a href='#Page_254'>254</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Priam, <a href='#Page_17'>17</a>, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>, <a href='#Page_22'>22</a>, <a href='#Page_24'>24</a>, <a href='#Page_25'>25</a>, <a href='#Page_29'>29</a>, <a href='#Page_30'>30</a>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_34'>34</a>, <a href='#Page_35'>35</a>, <a href='#Page_36'>36</a>, <a href='#Page_109'>109</a>, <a href='#Page_135'>135</a>, <a href='#Page_137'>137</a>, <a href='#Page_138'>138</a>, <a href='#Page_280'>280</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Prometheus, <a href='#Page_149'>149</a>, <a href='#Page_151'>151</a>, <a href='#Page_152'>152</a>, <a href='#Page_153'>153</a>, <a href='#Page_154'>154</a>, <a href='#Page_155'>155</a>, <a href='#Page_156'>156</a>, <a href='#Page_157'>157</a>, <a href='#Page_158'>158</a>, <a href='#Page_159'>159</a>, <a href='#Page_160'>160</a>, <a href='#Page_161'>161</a>, <a href='#Page_162'>162</a>, <a href='#Page_189'>189</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Pygmalion, <a href='#Page_276'>276</a>, <a href='#Page_277'>277</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Pylades, <a href='#Page_118'>118</a>, <a href='#Page_119'>119</a>, <a href='#Page_130'>130</a>, <a href='#Page_131'>131</a>, <a href='#Page_258'>258</a>, <a href='#Page_261'>261</a>, <a href='#Page_263'>263</a>, <a href='#Page_264'>264</a>, <a href='#Page_267'>267</a>, <a href='#Page_268'>268</a></li> - <li class='c002'>Rhodius, Apollonius, <a href='#Page_228'>228</a></li> - <li class='c002'>Scylla, <a href='#Page_72'>72</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Sichæus, <a href='#Page_276'>276</a>, <a href='#Page_277'>277</a>, <a href='#Page_281'>281</a>, <a href='#Page_282'>282</a>, <a href='#Page_286'>286</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Sophocles, <a href='#Page_102'>102</a>, <a href='#Page_132'>132</a>, <a href='#Page_133'>133</a>, <a href='#Page_150'>150</a>, <a href='#Page_163'>163</a>, <a href='#Page_165'>165</a>, <a href='#Page_166'>166</a>, <a href='#Page_172'>172</a>, <a href='#Page_186'>186</a>, <a href='#Page_194'>194</a>, <a href='#Page_206'>206</a>, <a href='#Page_209'>209</a>, <a href='#Page_210'>210</a></li> - <li class='c002'>Talthybius, <a href='#Page_140'>140</a>, <a href='#Page_142'>142</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Tantalus, <a href='#Page_103'>103</a>, <a href='#Page_123'>123</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Telemachus, <a href='#Page_27'>27</a>, <a href='#Page_43'>43</a>, <a href='#Page_44'>44</a>, <a href='#Page_45'>45</a>, <a href='#Page_46'>46</a>, <a href='#Page_47'>47</a>, <a href='#Page_48'>48</a>, <a href='#Page_50'>50</a>, <a href='#Page_51'>51</a>, <a href='#Page_55'>55</a>, <a href='#Page_56'>56</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Themis, <a href='#Page_162'>162</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Theseus, <a href='#Page_189'>189</a>, <a href='#Page_190'>190</a>, <a href='#Page_191'>191</a>, <a href='#Page_243'>243</a>, <a href='#Page_248'>248</a>, <a href='#Page_253'>253</a>, <a href='#Page_254'>254</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Thetis, <a href='#Page_33'>33</a>, <a href='#Page_41'>41</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Thoas, <a href='#Page_259'>259</a>, <a href='#Page_261'>261</a>, <a href='#Page_267'>267</a>, <a href='#Page_270'>270</a>, <a href='#Page_271'>271</a>, <a href='#Page_272'>272</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Tiresias, <a href='#Page_69'>69</a>, <a href='#Page_70'>70</a>, <a href='#Page_170'>170</a>, <a href='#Page_171'>171</a>, <a href='#Page_174'>174</a>, <a href='#Page_175'>175</a>, <a href='#Page_178'>178</a>, <a href='#Page_206'>206</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Tyndareus, <a href='#Page_19'>19</a>, <a href='#Page_20'>20</a>, <a href='#Page_41'>41</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Typhon, <a href='#Page_151'>151</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Tyro, <a href='#Page_42'>42</a></li> - <li class='c002'>Venus, <a href='#Page_276'>276</a>, <a href='#Page_277'>277</a>, <a href='#Page_278'>278</a></li> - <li class='c013'>Virgil, <a href='#Page_9'>9</a>, <a href='#Page_12'>12</a>, <a href='#Page_273'>273</a>, <a href='#Page_274'>274</a></li> - <li class='c002'>Zeus, <a href='#Page_18'>18</a>, <a href='#Page_24'>24</a>, <a href='#Page_27'>27</a>, <a href='#Page_32'>32</a>, <a href='#Page_33'>33</a>, <a href='#Page_41'>41</a>, <a href='#Page_47'>47</a>, <a href='#Page_49'>49</a>, <a href='#Page_50'>50</a>, <a href='#Page_54'>54</a>, <a href='#Page_65'>65</a>, <a href='#Page_73'>73</a>, <a href='#Page_76'>76</a>, <a href='#Page_77'>77</a>, <a href='#Page_78'>78</a>, <a href='#Page_79'>79</a>, <a href='#Page_93'>93</a>, <a href='#Page_94'>94</a>, <a href='#Page_97'>97</a>, <a href='#Page_98'>98</a>, <a href='#Page_112'>112</a>, <a href='#Page_126'>126</a>, <a href='#Page_127'>127</a>, <a href='#Page_128'>128</a>, <a href='#Page_148'>148</a>, <a href='#Page_149'>149</a>, <a href='#Page_151'>151</a>, <a href='#Page_152'>152</a>, <a href='#Page_153'>153</a>, <a href='#Page_154'>154</a>, <a href='#Page_155'>155</a>, <a href='#Page_156'>156</a>, <a href='#Page_157'>157</a>, <a href='#Page_158'>158</a>, <a href='#Page_160'>160</a>, <a href='#Page_161'>161</a>, <a href='#Page_167'>167</a>, <a href='#Page_200'>200</a>, <a href='#Page_226'>226</a></li> -</ul> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c004' /> -</div> -<div class='tnotes'> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</h2> -</div> - <ol class='ol_1 c002'> - <li>Changed ‘hales’ to ‘hails’ on p. <a href='#p220'>220</a>. - - </li> - <li>Silently corrected typographical errors. - - </li> - <li>Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed. - </li> - </ol> - -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Women of the Classics, by Mary C. 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