Chapter IV: Part 4

Herein consists the wonder of my tale. When from this place he went, as thou didst see, No longer guided by a friendly hand, But himself acting as the guide of all, Having arrived at the descending stair, With brazen steps fast rooted in the earth, He halted upon one of many paths, Hard by the basin wherein treasured lie Pledges of Theseus and Pirithous. Midway from this to the Thorician rock, The hollow pear-tree and the marble tomb, He took his seat and disarrayed himself Of his soiled weeds; then to his daughters called Water to bring that he might cleanse himself. They to a knoll that rose above the fane Of boon Demeter, hastening, did with speed That which their sire commanded,--bathed his limbs, And in new garments seemly him arrayed. When thus his heart's desire had been fulfilled, And none of his behests remained undone, Thunder beneath the earth was heard, whereat The maidens quaked, and on their father's knees They laid them down and wept, nor ceased to beat Their breasts and to pour forth the long-drawn wail. He, hearing all at once their bitter cry, Folded his hands over their heads, and said, "Daughters, this day your father is no more, For now my course is ended and your life Of travel sore in tending me is done. Hard was that life, my daughters, well I know, And yet a single word makes up for all. Love did ye never meet at any hand Greater than his, of whom henceforth bereft, Ye must drag out whate'er remains of life." Thus folded each in other's last embrace, They sobbed and wailed. When they at last had done Their weeping and their cry arose no more, A silence followed; all at once a voice Called him, and made the hair of each of us That heard it stand on end with sudden fear. Repeatedly it called, that mystic voice, "Oedipus, linger thou no more," it said, "Thine hour is come; too long is thy delay." He, hearing the celestial summons, called For our King Theseus to draw near to him; And when the King drew near, he said, "Dear Prince, Pledge to my daughters troth by your right hand, As they will pledge their troth to thee, and swear That thou wilt not desert them, but whate'er Thou mayst do thou wilt do it for their good." Theseus, with noble soul, calm and unmoved, Swore to fulfil his stranger friend's request. Which being ended, straightway Oedipus, With his blind hands touching his daughters, said, "Children, ye now must bear up gallantly And from this spot depart, nor seek to see Or hear that which may not be seen or heard. Tarry no longer; what is now to come Theseus alone may lawfully behold." These words of his all that were present heard. So we departed, and with streaming eyes Walked by the maidens. Having gone some way We turned, looked back, and saw that Oedipus Had vanished, nor did trace of him appear, While the King stood alone, holding his hand Before his eyes as though some awful form, Some overpowering vision had appeared. And no long time had passed, when he was seen Falling upon his knees and worshipping At once the Earth and all the Olympian gods. But in what way Oedipus left this life Theseus alone of human kind can tell. There flashed from heaven no lightning in that hour To strike him dead; there came not from the sea A tempest with its blast to sweep him off. Some envoy from the gods was sent to him, Or opening earth engulfed him painlessly. The old man died without disease or pang To make us grieve for him; by miracle, If ever man so died. Thinkst thou I dream? I know not how to show thee that I wake.

ANTIGONE.

Eteocles and Polynices, the unnatural brothers, having fallen by each other's hands, Creon is King of Thebes. To Eteocles, who had died in defence of the city, he awards honourable burial; Polynices, who had fallen in attacking the city, he dooms to lie unburied, a great dishonour and calamity in Hellenic opinion. Antigone resolves to disregard the ordinance, and pay the funeral rites to her brother Polynices. The conflict between the law of the State and the divine law which Antigone obeys is the moral key-note of the play. Ismene is Antigone's weaker sister and serves as a foil to her. Antigone is betrothed to Haemon, a son of Creon.

* * * * *

_THE TWO SISTERS_.

LINES 1-99.

ANTIGONE.

Ismene, sister mine in blood and heart, All woes that had their source in Oedipus Zeus will bring on us yet before we die. Nothing there is disastrous or accursed, No blot of shame, no brand of infamy, Which in our list of ills I reckon not. What is this proclamation that I hear The general has put forth to all the host? Say, canst thou tell, or art thou ignorant That those we hate are threat'ning those we love?

ISMENE.

To me, Antigone, no word has come Either of joyful tidings or of bad Since we of our two brothers were bereft, Slain in one day, each by the other's hand. Last night the Argive army marched away; This much I know, and I know nothing more To add to or abate our misery.

ANTIGONE.

Of that I was assured, and called thee forth Before the gate to speak to thee apart.

ISMENE.

What is it? Something ferments in thy soul.

ANTIGONE.

Creon to one of our two brothers grants, But to the other he denies, a grave. Eteocles, as they tell me, he has laid With all due form and reverence in the tomb, There to be ranked among the honoured dead. But Polynices' miserable corpse, It seems, by strict injunction he forbids All citizens to bury or to mourn; Ordering that it be left without a grave, Unwailed, a welcome prey to ravening birds. This proclamation Creon, worthy man-- Look thou, look both of us alike--puts forth. 'Tis said he hither comes to publish it, To all who know it not, nor deems the thing Of small concern; for whoso disobeys His penalty is to be stoned to death. So stands the matter; it will now be seen Whether thy soul is worthy of thy race.

ISMENE.

How, daring maid, can I in such a case, Whether to loose or bind, assistance lend?

ANTIGONE.

Wilt thou take part and aid me? Ponder well.

ISMENE.

In what adventure? What is in thy mind?

ANTIGONE.

Will thy arm help me to uplift the corpse?

ISMENE.

How! Wouldst thou brave the law and bury him?

ANTIGONE.

Bury thy brother and mine own I would. Do as thou wilt, my duty shall not fail.

ISMENE.

In face of Creon's edict? Art thou mad?

ANTIGONE.

Has he the right to part me from mine own?

ISMENE.

Sister, alack! think how our father fell, O'erwhelmed with hatred and with infamy Through sins which his own act had brought to light, His eyes bereft of sight by his own hand; How she that was his wife and mother too Perished, self-strangled with a twisted cord, And lastly our two brothers in one day With fratricidal hands most ruefully Upon each other brought a common doom. Now only we are left, and worst of all Our fate will be, if, in contempt of law, Our ruler's will and order we defy. Think first that we are women, and too weak Battle to do against the strength of men; And next, that we are subject unto power, And must in harder things than this obey. For my share then, I will entreat the dead To pardon what I do unwillingly, And bow to the command of those in power. High vaulting virtue overleaps itself.

ANTIGONE.

I urge thee not; nay, didst thou wish to aid, My heart would not accept thy partnership. Hold to thy own opinion; him I mean To bury; death were honour in that cause. I in the tomb shall lie with those I love, A glorious criminal. Longer will last The praise of those below than those above. There I shall ever dwell. Then, if thou wilt, Treat as of no account the claim of heaven.

ISMENE.

I lack not piety, but lack the force To fly in face of public ordinance.

ANTIGONE.

Cling to thy specious pretext while I go To heap the earth upon a brother's grave.

ISMENE.

Too daring sister, how I quake for thee.

ANTIGONE.

Quake not for me, steer thine own course aright.

ISMENE.

At least disclose to none this thy design; I too will keep it locked within my breast.

ANTIGONE.

Avaunt! reveal it! I shall hate thee more If thou dost not proclaim it to the world.

ISMENE.

Hot is thy blood, but chill thy enterprise.

ANTIGONE.

I shall please those whom I am bound to please.

ISMENE.

Hadst thou the power, but desperate is thy aim.

ANTIGONE.

When my power fails I have but to desist.

ISMENE.

Where we must fail, not to attempt is wise.

ANTIGONE.

Such talk will make thee hateful unto me, And by the dead man righteously abhorred. Then leave me with my folly to endure This dreadful penalty. Come what come may, Nothing will rob me of a noble death.

ISMENE.

Art thou resolved? Go, then, and be assured That though misguided thou art well beloved.

* * * * *

_SISTERLY LOVE DEFIES THE LAW_.

Antigone is caught by the guard paying funeral rites to the corpse of Polynices, and is brought before Creon.

LINES 384-581.

GUARD.

Behold the guilty one, caught in the act Of burial. Where is Creon to be found?

CHORUS.

Hither he comes returning from the house.

CREON (_entering_).

What makes my presence here so opportune?

GUARD.

My prince, let mortal man nothing forswear, For resolution yields to afterthought. Little I looked hither to come again, So pelted with the hailstorm of thy threats. But the good fortune that surpasses hope Is of all pleasant things the pleasantest; And so I come in spite of all my oaths, And bring with me this maiden, who was caught Decking the grave. This time no lot was cast; The prize is mine of right, and mine alone. And now, my prince, take and examine her Thyself, as seems thee good. I claim my due, From all these troubles to be let go free.

CREON.

Where, in what manner, was your prisoner found?

GUARD.

'Twas she that gave him burial; all is told.

CREON.

Art thou assured of that thou dost report?

GUARD. I saw this maiden burying the corpse Which thou forbad'st to bury. Is that plain?

CREON.

By whom was she espied, and how entrapped?

GUARD.

Thus did it happen: When we reached our post, Confounded by thy dreadful menaces, We swept away with care each particle Of dust, and having laid the carcase bare, Then sat us down beneath the sheltering slope Of a hillside, where we escaped the stench, Each stirring up his fellow to the task, And cursing him who should be slack in it. So went we on until the sun's bright orb Had reached the mid-arch of the firmament, And its full heat was felt, when suddenly A whirlwind, raising swirls of dust heaven-high, Swept o'er the plain, stripping the wood of leaves, Wherewith it filled the air. We with closed eyes And lips sat bowing to the wrath of heaven. When this had passed away, after some time, Appeared this maiden, uttering piercing wails; Like to the plaintive notes of a lorn bird, That finds her nest robbed of its callow brood, Her wailings were, when she beheld the corpse Once more uncovered; and right bitterly Cursed she the man whose hand had done the deed. Straightway a handful of dry dust she brings, Then thrice uplifting high a brazen urn, Pours a three-fold libation on the corpse. We at the sight, start up and quickly seize The maiden, who was not a whit dismayed. We charged her with what she before had done, And what was doing. Nor denied she aught, But made me feel sorrow and joy at once. Oneself to have escaped calamity Is cause for joy; to bring a friend to harm Fills one with sorrow. But in my account Of all things mine own safety is the first.

CREON.

(_To_ ANTIGONE.)

Thou, that dost stand with eyes bent on the ground, Dost thou plead guilty or deny the fact?

ANTIGONE.

Deny I do not, but avow my deed.

CREON.

(_To the_ GUARD.)

Thou standst acquitted of a heinous charge, And mayest betake thee hence whither thou wilt.

(_To_ ANTIGONE.)

But thou, answer, and briefly, didst thou know The proclamation made against this act?

ANTIGONE.

I did; how should I not? The words were plain.

CREON.

Yet didst thou dare to violate the law?

ANTIGONE.

The proclamation went not forth from Zeus, Or Justice, partner of the gods below, Who had ordained these canons for mankind; Nor deemed I proclamations had such power That thereby mortal man could contravene Heaven's law unwritten and unchangeable. That law was not the child of yesterday, Nor knoweth man the source from which it came. I was not minded for what men might say To break that law and brave the wrath divine. That death would come I know, as come it must Without thy proclamation, and to die Before my hour I count it so much gain. For when a life is full of wretchedness As mine has been, is it not gain to die? Little I care if I such doom must meet; But I care much not uninterred to leave His corpse that was of the same mother born. One pains me sore, the other pains me not; And if to thee I seem to play the fool To me it seems that to a fool I play it.

CHORUS.

She shows the savage spirit of her sire, And to misfortune is untaught to bend.

CREON.

Know that the most self-willed most often fall. Iron that hath been tempered by the fire To a surpassing hardness, when it breaks, We often see shattered most thoroughly; And a small bit suffices to subdue The fiery steed. High thoughts beseem not those Who owe subjection to another's will. This maid before displayed her insolence In overstepping what the laws ordained; And now again displays it, glorying And laughing in our face over her crime. It is not I that am the man, but she If she can thus usurp and go unscathed. Be she my sister's child or child of one Nearer in blood than all around our hearth, She shall not the last penalty escape, Nor shall her sister. For she, too, I hold, Conspired to bring about this burial. Summon her hither. Just now in the house I saw her raving like a maid possessed. When wickedness is gendered in the dark The heart is apt its secret to betray. But not less hateful is the shamelessness Which, of foul acts convicted, calls them fair.

ANTIGONE.

To lead me to my death, is that enough?

CREON.

It is enough. This done, I ask no more.

ANTIGONE.

Then why delay, when of thy words to me Not one gives pleasure or will ever give? Nor are mine less displeasing unto thee. And yet what greater glory could be mine, Than, burying my own brother, I have won? Well know I, all here present would applaud But that their tongues by fear of thee are tied. Sovereigns in many things are fortunate, And they alone are free in act and speech.

CREON.

So thinkest thou; of other Thebans, none.

ANTIGONE.

So think they too, but they must cringe to thee.

CREON.

Art not ashamed to brave the public voice?

ANTIGONE.

It is no shame to pay our kin their due.

CREON.

Was not he kin that fell upon our side?

ANTIGONE.

His father and his mother both were mine.

CREON.

How then do service which offends his shade?

ANTIGONE.

The dead man will not second thy complaint.

CREON.

He will if he is levell'd with the vile.

ANTIGONE.

It was a brother, not a slave, that fell.

CREON.

Assailing what the other died to save.

ANTIGONE.

The powers below ask these observances.

CREON.

The good ask not like treatment with the bad.

ANTIGONE.

Who knows but this may be deemed right below?

CREON.

Hatred expires not when the hated dies.

ANTIGONE.

Not hate but love to share my nature is.

CREON.

Go, then, below and love, if love thou wilt, But while I live no woman shall reign here.

CHORUS.

(ISMENE _entering_)

Ismene, lo! before the gate appears, A sister's grief o'erflowing in her tears; The cloud of sorrow gathered on her face Bedews her roseate cheek and mars its grace.

CREON.

(_To_ ISMENE.)

And thou, too, in my home a lurking snake? Didst drain my heart's blood, while I little thought That I was cherishing two traitress fiends? Wast thou a party to this burial, Or wilt thou swear that thou art innocent?

ISMENE.

I did take part, if she will say I did, And am content to bear my share of blame.

ANTIGONE.

That equity forbids; neither wert thou Willing to act, nor I to act with thee.

ISMENE.

Yet would I not refuse mid thy distress, Sister, to sail in the same barque with thee.

ANTIGONE.

Whose was the deed, the dead and Hades know. I love not one whose friendship ends in words.

ISMENE.

Sister, deny me not the privilege Of sharing both thy piety and death.

ANTIGONE.

Share not my death, nor claim the work in which Thou hadst no hand; that I die is enough.

ISMENE.

What can life be to me, bereft of thee?

ANTIGONE.

Ask Creon, he is nearest thee in love.

ISMENE.

Why dost thou gird at me thus fruitlessly?

ANTIGONE.

My laugh is bitter when I laugh at thee.

ISMENE.

What can I do to aid thee even now?

ANTIGONE.

What, save thyself! I grudge not thy escape.

ISMENE.

Alack! and must I let thee die alone?

ANTIGONE.

Yes; for thy choice was life, and mine was death.

ISMENE.

But not unspoken was my mind to thee.

ANTIGONE.

Thy course was here approved, but mine below.

ISMENE.

Yet was the fault of both of us the same.

ANTIGONE.

Be of good cheer, thou livest; but my soul Is with the dead, to whom my care is due.

CREON.

Of these two sisters, one, it seems to me, Has lost her wits, and one was witless born.

ISMENE.

O Prince, the reason that is born in us Abides not in the wretched, but departs.

CREON.

From thee it fled when thou didst share her crime.

ISMENE.

Without this maiden what can life be worth?

CREON.

Say not "this maiden," for she is no more.

ISMENE.

Wilt thou slay her that is thy son's betrothed?

CREON.

We shall find other fields enough to plough,

ISMENE.

Thou wilt not find such unison of hearts.

CREON.

I do not want a bad wife for my son.

ANTIGONE.

Dear Haemon, how thy father slights thy love.

CREON.

Thou and thy marriage are a weariness.

ISMENE.

Wilt thou bereave thy child of his betrothed?

CREON.

Hades it is that shall these nuptials bar.

ISMENE.

It is resolved, it seems, that she shall die.

CREON.

There I agree with thee. No more delay. Slaves, take her in, and henceforth let these maids Be women, and no more be left at large. The stoutest hearts are apt to think of flight, When they perceive that death is drawing near.

* * * * *

_THE CONTEST BETWEEN LOVE AND FILIAL DUTY._

LINES 631-780.

CREON.

Soon shall we know, my son, past prophecy Whether, apprised of that our fixed decree, Thou com'st in wrath upon thy bride's account Or all we do is pleasing unto thee.

HAEMON.

My father, I am thine; thy wisdom guides My steps aright and I will follow it; No marriage can be dearer to my heart Than is the blessing of thy governance.

CREON.

Be this, my son, implanted in thy breast, Still to thy father's judgment to defer. This is the reason for which men desire To rear obedient offspring in their homes, Who may confront their father's enemy, And with him render service to his friends. The father of unprofitable sons-- What does he else but for himself beget Trouble and exultation for his foes? Never, my Haemon, for a woman's love Let go thy better judgment. Thou must know That cold and comfortless is the embrace Of a bad partner in the marriage bed. What sore is worse than ill-requited love? Then cast away this maiden from thy heart, And let her nuptial bower in Hades be, Since I have openly convicted her Of breaking law, by all beside obeyed. My public act I will not falsify,

The maid shall die; howe'er she may descant On sacred kinship. If at home I give Disorder license, where will order reign? Whoever governs his own house aright Will be a worthy member of the State. The bold transgressor that defies the law, Or thinks to override authority, Need look for no encouragement from me The lawful ruler's word must be obeyed, Just or unjust, in great things and in small. Who does this, I will warrant him a man Fit to command alike and to obey, And one who in the battle's storm will stand Bravely and staunchly at his comrade's side. There is no greater curse than anarchy; It works the overthrow of commonwealths, Lays homes in ruin, in the battle-field Puts armies to the rout, while victory And safety are the meed of discipline. So must we stand by that which is decreed, And not to an usurping woman yield. Fall if we must, a man shall deal the blow: 'Twere shame to think a woman vanquished us.

CHORUS.

If age our judgment dims not, thou hast dealt Rightly with all things which thy speech concerns.

HAEMON.

Father, the favour of the gods bestows Wisdom, most precious of all precious gifts. That thou hast not the right upon thy side I cannot, if I could I would not, show. Yet may another's argument be fair. Nature hath set me to keep watch for thee Over the words, acts, censures of the world. The common man, awed by thy presence, shrinks From uttering what he knows will please thee not. I hear beneath the cloud of secrecy How the whole city for this maiden mourns. She, who the least deserves it, dies, they say, A cruel death for a most noble deed, The rescue of her brother's mangled corpse From being left unburied on the field, A prey to ravening dogs and carrion birds. Has she not merited a crown of gold? Such murmurs darkling spread among the crowd. Father, I hold no treasure half so dear As thy well-being; greater joy or pride Is none than sons have in an honoured sire, Or than a sire has in an honoured son. Keep not one changeless temper in thy breast, Nor fancy that thou art infallible. Whoever dreams that he alone is wise, Or is in speech or spirit singular, Will, when unmasked, betray his emptiness. Wise though a man may be, it is no shame To have an open mind and flexible. Thou seest by the winter torrent's side The trees that bend go with their limbs unscathed, While those that bend not perish root and branch. And so the sailor who keeps taut the sheet, And stiffly battles with the tempest's force, Is apt thenceforth to float keel uppermost. Bend, then, and give thy spirit room to change. If from the lips of a young counsellor Wisdom can come, I say it were far best If we could all be born omniscient, But as omniscience is not given to man, 'Tis well to good advisers to give ear.

CHORUS.

Prince, it beseems ye both, if either says Aught apt, to listen; both have argued well.

CREON.

And shall our hoary hairs be put to school, And shall we take instruction from this boy?

HAEMON.

In naught that is not right. Young as I am, Thou shouldst my reasons weigh, not count my years.

CREON.

Does reason bid thee second anarchy?

HAEMON.

I would not ask e'en justice for the bad.

CREON.

Is not yon maiden sick of that disease?

HAEMON.

Not so avers the common voice of Thebes.

CREON.

Shall I my duty from the commons learn?

HAEMON.

Seest thou how youthful is that sentiment?

CREON.

Am I to govern by another's will?

HAEMON.

That is no state which owns one man for lord.

CREON.

Is not the state the ruler's property?

HAEMON.

Thou wouldst reign well over a desert land.

CREON.

The boy, it seems, will fight for yonder maid.

HAEMON.

If thou'rt the maid; it is for thee I care.

CREON.

Villain, why art thou wrangling with thy sire?

HAEMON.

Because thou errest from the path of right.

CREON.

Err I in claiming reverence for my state?

HAEMON

Reverence upon religion tramples not.

CREON.

O caitiff soul, thrall of a woman's face!

HAEMON

Thou wilt not see me by aught base enthralled.

CREON.

Yet is thy whole discourse a plea for her.

HAEMON.

For thee and me, and for the gods below.

CREON.

This maid shall never be thy living bride.

HAEMON.

Then will she die, and will not die alone.

CREON.

Hast thou the effrontery thus to threaten me?

HAEMON.

To gainsay folly, call'st thou that a threat?

CREON.

Thou'lt rue thy preaching, void thyself of sense.

HAEMON.

I'd say thou dotest, wert thou not my sire.

CREON.

Slave of a woman, do not gird at me!

HAEMON.

Wouldst thou have all the talking to thyself?

CREON.

Indeed! By heaven above, thou shalt repent! Thus censuring first and then reviling me. Bring out that hateful thing that she may die Forthwith, and here before her lover's eyes.

HAEMON.

Never before my eyes, believe it not; A witness of her death I will not be, Nor shalt thou look upon my face again. Rave at the friends who will thy raving brook.

(_Exit_ HAEMON.)

CHORUS.

O Prince, the youth has rushed away in wrath, And at his years anguish is violent.

CREON.

Let him go vent his overweening pride; These maidens twain shall not escape from death.

CHORUS.

What? Is it thy resolve that both shall die?

CREON.

Not she that took no part. Thou hast well said.

CHORUS.

What is to be the manner of her death?

CREON.

I will convey her to a lonely place, And shut her in a rock-hewn prison-house, With food sufficient, for religion's sake, Whereby we from pollution save the State. There unto Hades, her sole deity, Pattering her prayers, she will drive death away, Or at the last be taught how vain it is To spend devotion on the shades below.

* * * * *

_THE POWER OF LOVE._

LINES 781-800.

CHORUS.

Unconquered love, against whose might Wealth's golden mansion hath no ward, That in the maiden's dimpled cheek by night Keepest thy guard; The ocean wave to bear thy tread is taught; The rural homestead, gods, and men are brought Alike thy power to own; who feels it is distraught. 'Tis thou that upright hearts and pure dost lead From virtue's ways to ways of sin. 'Tis thou whose influence in our Thebes does breed Strife among kin. O'er all prevails the charm of beauty's eyes, Charm that with Law Supreme in empire vies, For Aphrodite's power all rebel force defies.

* * * * *

_ANTIGONE IS SENT TO HER DEATH._

LINES 882-928.

CREON.

Be sure, of wails and dirges before death, If leave were given, we ne'er should have an end. Lead her away and in the rocky vault Forthwith immure her, as my order was. There leave her by herself, either to die, Or linger on in that sepulchral cell. We of this maiden's blood are clear, and yet She will no longer dwell with those above.

ANTIGONE.

O tomb, my bridal bower, O rock-hewn cell, My home that art to be, whither I go To meet my kin, of whom Persephone In her dark mansion holds a multitude. Last of the train and most unfortunate, I now must die before my destined hour. And yet my hope is sure that by my sire, By thee, beloved mother, and by thee, Dearest of brothers, welcomed I shall be. This hand washed every corpse and decked it out For sepulture; this hand upon each grave Libations poured; and, Polynices, now In tending thy remains I meet this doom. Yet wisdom will approve my honouring thee: Had I a mother been and lost a child, Had I been wed and had my husband died, I would not thus have braved the public ire. What is my principle, perchance you ask? My husband lost, I might have wed again, I might in time have borne a second child; But, with both sire and mother in the grave, Hope of a second brother there is none. Upon this principle I honoured thee, Dearest of brothers; but to Creon seemed A sinner and the worst of criminals. And now he hales me to the place of death. From marriage and of bridal hymn cut off, Cut off from joys of love and motherhood, And reft of friends, poor maiden as I am, I must go down into a living grave. And yet what law divine have I transgressed? How could I look for succour to the gods? Whither for comfort go, when piety Is thus requited with the pains of sin? If this is righteous in the eye of heaven, I'll own the justice of my chastisement; But if the sin be on the other side, May they but bear that which they lay on me.

* * * * *

_THE CATASTROPHE._

Creon, having been brought to repentance by the denunciations of the prophet Tiresias, sets out to bury the corpse of Polynices, and release Antigone from the cave of death. The issue is recounted by a messenger to the Queen Eurydice.

LINES 1155-1243.

MESSENGER.

Ye, that by Cadmus and Amphion's shrine Do dwell, no mortal's life before its end Will be by me pronounced blessed or unblessed. Fortune is ever casting down the high, Fortune is ever lifting up the low; And none can prophesy what change may come. Creon I deemed an enviable man: He from our enemy had saved our state, And, vested with a monarch's power supreme, Ruled happy in the promise of his heir. Now all is gone, for when a man has lost The things that make life sweet, he lives in truth No more, but is an animated corpse. Have in your house what store of wealth you will, Dwell in the state of sumptuous royalty, Where joy is absent, I account the rest Less than a shadow of a wreath of smoke.

CHORUS.

What evil has befallen our royal house?

MESSENGER.

Dead are some, others guilty of their death.

CHORUS.

Who is the murdered, who the murderer, say.

MESSENGER.

Haemon is dead, unnaturally slain.

CHORUS.

Slain by whose hand, his father's or his own?

MESSENGER.

His own, stung by his sire's cruel deed.

CHORUS.

O seer, thy prophesy has come too true.

MESSENGER.

So stands the case, whereon deliberate.

(_Enter_ EURYDICE.)

CHORUS.

Yonder is the ill-starred Eurydice, The Queen of Creon; from the house she comes By chance, or brought by tidings of her son.

EURYDICE.

Citizens all, I overheard your words, As from our portal I was setting forth To pay my vows to Pallas at her fane. Just as I drew the bolts that hold the door, Sounds of disaster to our family Smote on my ear. Affrighted, I fell back In my attendants' arms and swooned away. Repeat what then ye said; I am well schooled In misery, and can bear to hear the worst.

MESSENGER.

Good lady, I was witness of the scene, And nothing will suppress in my report. Why tell a flattering tale, when soon the lie Must be exposed? Plain truth is ever best. I went as an attendant with the King To yon high level where, a prey to dogs, The uncared-for corpse of Polynices lay. The corpse, with prayers put up to Hecate And Pluto to look kindly on the dead, We reverently washed, wrapped the remains In fresh-plucked boughs, and burned them on a pyre. Then on the dead we heaped his native earth. Next to the maiden's bridal bower of death, Within the hollowed rock, we took our way. One of us hears afar a wailing shrill Come from the spot where lay the unhallowed cell. And running, tells to Creon what he heard. To Creon's ear, as he drew nigh, was borne A sound confused of weeping, and he cried In bitterness, "Unhappy that I am, Will my heart prove a prophet? Have I come The most disastrous journey of my life? Sure it is my son's voice that greets my ear. Attendants, hasten to the cave of death, Tear up the stones, creep to the chamber's mouth, Tell me if Haemon's voice indeed I hear, Or is it some illusion of my sense?" We as our master in his anguish bade, Looked in, and in the inmost cell we saw The maiden hanging from the roof and dead, A noose of shredded linen round her neck; The youth, his arms folded around her waist, Bewailing his lost bride, his marriage hour Turned to despair, his father's cruelty. Seeing him, Creon, with a bitter cry, Moved towards him, and in anguish shrieked to him, "My son, what hast thou done? what frantic thought Possessed thy mind, how wast thou thus distraught? Come forth, I do entreat thee, son, come forth." Haemon, for answer, with eyes flashing rage, Looked mute abhorrence, drew his two-edged sword, And would have struck his father; but the King Fled and escaped. Then on himself he turned His wrath, and without more, into his breast Drove to the hilt his sword, and conscious still, Clung round the maiden with his failing arms, While, swiftly welling from his wound, the blood Spread over her pale cheek its crimson shower. There lies he dead, with arms around the dead, His marriage feast held in the world below, Teaching by sad example that the worst Of human evils is a mind distraught.

AJAX

Ajax and Ulysses were competitors for the arms of Achilles. The prize was awarded to Ulysses. Ajax, deeming himself wronged, sallies forth from his tent one night to take vengeance on those who had wronged him, especially Ulysses and the two sons of Atreus. Athene, ever watchful for her favourite Hellenes, smites Ajax with mental blindness, so that instead of falling on his enemies, he falls on the flocks and herds of the camp. Restored to his right mind, and finding how he has dishonoured himself, he falls upon his sword.

* * * * *

_THE HERO'S MADNESS._

Tecmessa, a captive with whom Ajax lives as his wife, tells the Chorus of Salaminian mariners what has befallen their chieftain.

LINES 284-330.

TECMESSA.

Thou shalt hear all as one that shares our lot. It was the dead of night, and now no more The camp fires shone, when Ajax took his sword, Uncalled, and was in act to leave the tent, And I reproved him. "Ajax," I exclaimed, "What errand is it upon which you go Unbidden, summoned by no messenger, No trumpet call; the host is all asleep?" Brief was his answer in a well-known strain: "Peace, woman; silence best beseems thy sex." I said no more. He sallied forth alone. What may have there befallen I cannot say. Back to the tent he came, leading along As captives bulls and herdsmen's dogs and sheep, Of which a part he strangled, others felled And cleft in twain; others again he lashed, Treating those beasts like human prisoners. Then rushing out, he with some phantom talked, Launching against the sons of Atreus now, Now 'gainst Ulysses, ravings void of sense, Boasting how he had paid their insults home. Then once more rushing back into the tent, By slow degrees to his right mind he came. But when he saw the tent with carnage heaped, Crying aloud, he smote his head, and then Flung himself down amid the gory wreck, And with clenched fingers grasped and tore his hair. So a long time he sat and spoke no word. At last, with imprecations terrible If I refused, he bade me tell him all, What had befallen and how it came about. And I, my friends, o'erwhelmed with terror, told All that I knew of that which he had done. Thereat he uttered piercing cries of grief, Such as had never come from him before, For in loud lamentations to indulge He ever held a craven weakling's part, And, stifling outcries, moaned not loud but deep, Like the deep roaring of a wounded bull. But in this plight, prostrate and desperate, Refusing food and drink, my hero lies Amidst the mangled bodies, motionless. That he is brooding on some fell design, His wails and exclamations plainly show. But, O kind friends, 'twas to this end I came, Enter the tent and aid me if ye can; The words of friends are desperate sorrow's cure.

* * * * *

_REMORSE_.

Ajax bewails his own fall. Tecmessa tries to comfort him, and turn him from violent courses.

LINES 430-595.

CHORUS.

I know not how, in case so desperate, To bid thee speak, or bid thee to refrain.

AJAX.

Alas! who would have thought my name would prove [Footnote: There is a play upon the name [Greek: Aias], the first syllable of which is an ejaculation of sorrow unreproduceable in English.] So correspondent to the bearer's state? Once and again that syllable of woe, Being with woe o'erwhelmed, I may repeat. My father once, from this Idaean land, Crowned with the prize of valour by the host, And full of glory, to his home returned; While I, his son, coming to this same land Of Troy with prowess no whit less than his, After achievements not less glorious, Meet from the Argives scorn and contumely. And yet of this much am I well assured, That had Achilles living been the judge To whom his arm and valours prize should go, Mine, and mine only, would those arms have been. But now the Atridae to a cunning knave, My exploits misprized, have surrendered them. And had not strong delusion warped my sense, And clouded o'er my vision, never more Would they have an unrighteous sentence given. But that stern-eyed, resistless child of Zeus, Just as I put forth my avenging hand, Brought madness on me, made me miss my aim, And dye my sword with blood of slaughtered kine. They have escaped, and they will mock at me, Through no default of mine. When deity Blasts the strong arm, weakness may strength defy. What now am I to do, since of the gods I am abhorred, of the Hellenic host Hated, to Troy and all this land a foe? Shall I to their own quarrel leave the Kings, Unmoor, and homeward cross the Aegean wave? How can I face my father Telamon? How can he bear to look upon the son Who comes to him disgraced, without the prize, When glory's wreath has circled his own brow? That may not be. Then shall I fling myself Alone upon the Trojan battlements, And having done some deed of valour, fall? That might to the two Kings some joy afford. That, too, is naught. On something I must think Whereby I to my agéd sire may prove That from his loins sprung no unworthy son; For vile it is to crave for longer life, When longer life brings no release from ill. How can addition to the sum of days, When all is but a respite, joy bestow? I would not give a doit for any man Who lets his heart be fired with idle hopes. To live with honour, or with honour die, Alone becomes the noble. I have done.

CHORUS.

None, Ajax, will pretend that these thy words Are not thy own, or come not from thy heart; But now control thyself. Discard these thoughts, And let the counsels of thy friends prevail.

TECMESSA.

Ajax, my lord and master, man knows not Aught sadder than a bondsman's helplessness. I, that a freeman for my father had, First of the Phrygian race in wealth and power, Am now a slave. So have the gods decreed, And thy strong arm determined. Of thy bed Thus made the partner, I am true to thee, And do implore thee by our household Zeus, And by the couch which we together press, Be not so cruel as to leave thy mate In thraldom, and a prey to slanderous tongues. Know, when thou diest, thy protection gone, The Argives will that self-same day drag off Me and thy helpless child to slavery. Then will some slave-master speak bitter words, Voiding his bile on us: 'Behold the mate Of Ajax, once the hero of our host, Fallen from her pride of place to menial toil.' So will they say. For me, where fate may drive I drift; but shame will be on thee and thine. Think of thy father, in his drear old age Bereft of thee; think of thy mother, too, With her grey head, who puts up many a prayer That she may welcome home her son alive. Have pity on thy child, who will be left In infancy, uncherished, and the ward Of unkind guardians; lay to heart the woes Which loss of thee would bring on him and me. For I have nothing left to which to look But thee; thy spear has laid my city low, While, by another doom, my parents both Have gone to dwell in the abodes of death. What country can Tecmessa have but thee? What staff of life? thou art my all in all. Be mindful of thy mate; to taste love's joy Is to owe something to the claim of love. Affection still should be affection's meed; When kindness leaves no trace upon the soul, That soul is void of true nobility.

CHORUS.

Ajax, I would thy heart could beat with mine, For if it could, her words would win thy praise.

AJAX.

Praise in full measure shall she have from me, If she has sense to do what I command.

TECMESSA.

Whatever thou commandest, I will do.

AJAX.

Bring me my boy that I may look on him.

TECMESSA.

The truth to tell, I sent him hence in fear.

AJAX.

In fear of what? Of all this wretchedness?

TECMESSA.

Fear that if thou shouldst meet him, he might die.

AJAX.

That would have well beseemed my destiny.

TECMESSA.

My care prevented that calamity.

AJAX.

I do commend thy foresight heartily.

TECMESSA.

What can I do herein to serve thee more?

AJAX.

Let me behold the boy and speak to him.

TECMESSA.

He is at hand in the attendant's care.

AJAX.

Let him come hither, then, without delay.

TECMESSA.

My child, thy father calls. Whoe'er thou art His infant steps that guidest, bring him here.

AJAX.

Is the child out of hearing or at hand?

TECMESSA.

Behold, the servant leading him is near.

(_Enter Attendant with_ EURYSACES.)

AJAX.

Give me the boy; he will not be afraid To look upon this bloody slaughter-house, If verily he is his father's son. At once we must in his sire's rugged ways Train the young colt and mould him like to me. Boy, mayst thou be more lucky than thy sire, Else his true son, and thou'lt be not amiss. Already have I cause to envy thee, In that thou knowest nothing of these woes; For blessed are the days of ignorance, When joy and grief are both untasted still. But when the time is come, see that thou show My enemies what blood is in thy veins. Till then, sweet airs breathe on thine infancy. Be happy, boy, and cheer thy mother's heart. I ween the Achaean lives not that on thee Will dare to trample, e'en when I am gone, So good a warden shall I leave for thee In Teucer, who shall tend thee well, though now He is far off, upon the foeman's trail. And now, my warriors, that have sailed with me, I crave one service at your loving hands, And pray ye will of Teucer crave the same: Bear to my home the boy, that Telamon And Eriboea may their grandson see, And he may be the prop of their old age. My arms, no judges, nor my honour's foe Shall ere set up as prizes for the host. My shield, Eurysaces, my son, take thou, [Footnote: Signifying "him of the broad shield."] Thy namesake, by its well-knit handles wield The impenetrable orb of seven-fold hide. My other arms shall share their master's grave. And now, Tecmessa, take the boy again; Shut up the tent, and let us have no wails Here at the door; women are made of tears. Shut up the tent, I say; never wise leech Did patter spells when steel was the sole cure.

CHORUS.

I tremble as I hear thy heated words, The sharpness of thy speech disquiets me.

TECMESSA.

Ajax, my lord, what dost thou meditate?

AJAX.

Question me not. 'Tis good to be discreet.

TECMESSA.

Fear overwhelms my soul. Oh, by the gods, And by thy child, I pray desert us not.

AJAX.

Thou art importunate. Dost thou not know That I no more am debtor to the gods?

TECMESSA.

Hush! Be not impious.

AJAX.

Speak not to the deaf.

TECMESSA.

Wilt thou not yield?

AJAX.

Thou pratest overmuch.

TECMESSA.

My lord, I quake.

AJAX.

Shut up the tent at once.

TECMESSA. I do conjure thee.

AJAX.

Small must be thy sense, If thou dost think to put this heart to school.

* * * * *

_THE RESOLVE_.

Ajax pretends to be softened, and to be going forth only for the harmless purpose of purification in a running stream, though he is really going to his death.

LINES 646-692.

AJAX.

Time in its long, immeasurable course, Turns ever dark to light, and light to dark, And nothing is past hope; the solemn oath Is broken, and the stubborn heart gives way. I, that was hard as tempered steel erewhile, Am softened now by yonder woman's plaint. I cannot bear to leave her desolate, Or my boy fatherless among his foes. I'll go to the fresh baths which lie beside Yon cliff, that, having washed pollution off, I may the goddess' heavy wrath avert. I'll seek me out a solitary spot, And there I'll hide this sword, this hateful sword, Burying it where it shall be seen no more; Let night and Hades be its armoury, For ever since I took it as a gift From Hector, our most mortal enemy, Our Argive hearts have ne'er been kind to me. True is the word, the gifts of enemies Are no gifts, and they bring more loss than gain. So for the future we shall learn to bow To heaven's good will, and reverence the Kings; Theirs is the power, submission is our part. Whatever is most dread and masterful Yields to authority: the winter's snow In time makes way for summer crowned with fruits; In time the weary round of night gives place To the white steeds that bring returning day; In time the blustering tempest leaves at rest The roaring sea; in time profoundest sleep Loosens its bond, and lets the sleeper wake; Why should not time bring wisdom to us too? By all means shall it. I have lately learned That we should hate our enemy as one Who yet may be a friend, and so far serve Our friend as one that may to-morrow be A friend no more, since, to the general, Friendship is but a doubtful anchorage. But for these matters all is ordered well. Go in, Tecmessa, duly offer up Thy prayers that my desire may be fulfilled. And you, my comrades, honour equally My wishes, and bid Teucer, when he comes, Be a good friend to you and think of me. Now go I forth upon my destined way. Do ye my bidding, and ye soon may hear That I have shuffled off this coil of ills.

* * * * *

_THE LAST SPEECH OF AJAX_.

LINES 815-865.

AJAX.

The sword is set where it may best strike home, If leisure were to dally with such thoughts, The sword that Hector gave, the bitterest foe And worst that I did ever treat withal; And it is planted in the soil of Troy, That hostile soil, fresh whetted for its work. Carefully have I fixed it where it stands, That quickly I may die, and painlessly. So far all's well; in what comes now, O Zeus, On thee for aid, and with good right, I call. 'Tis no great favour that I crave of thee: Let some one bear to Teucer the ill news, That he may be the first to lift my corpse From off the sword, fresh streaming with my blood. Let me not, by some foeman first espied, Be cast a prey to carrion fowl and dogs. This, Zeus, I ask of thee, and I invoke Hermes, who leads the dead, that at one bound Pierced through, and with no lingering agony I may be laid in my eternal sleep. Last on the dread Erinnyes I call, That ever-virgin sisterhood, who see All that is done among mankind, to mark How the Atridae have my ruin wrought. Come, ye swift powers of retribution, come, And flesh you on the whole Achaean host. Thou sun, whose chariot traverses the sky, When on my native land thou lookest down, Draw for a while thy glittering rein, and tell The story of my madness and my doom To my grey-headed father, and to her That bare me, and that when she hears this news Will make the city echo with her wail. But to no purpose are these weak laments; The thing must now be done, and done with speed. O death, O death, come and thy office do; Long, where I go, our fellowship will be. O thou glad daylight, which I now behold, O sun, that ridest in the firmament, I greet you, and shall greet you never more. O light, O sacred soil of my own land, O my ancestral home, my Salamis, Famed Athens and my old Athenian mates, Rivers and springs and plains of Troy, farewell; Farewell all things in which I lived my life; 'Tis the last word of Ajax to you all, When next I speak 'twill be to those below.

ELECTRA.

The subject of the "Electra" of Sophocles is the same as that of the "Choëphoroe" (the Libation-bearers) of Aeschylus. It is the return of Orestes from exile to take vengeance on Aegisthus and Clytaemnestra, for their murder of his father, Agamemnon. Electra plays the same part which she plays in the "Choëphoroe," while her sister, Chrysothemis, plays that of gentleness and comparative weakness. Orestes, in this play, returns with a fictitious story of his death which throws Aegisthus and Clytaemnestra off their guard.

* * * * *

_THE SNARE_.

The Paedagogos (tutor or governor) of Orestes, to circumvent Clytaemnestra, tells her a fictitious story of her son's death by a fall in a chariot-race. Electra is on the scene.

LINES 660-822.

PAEDAGOGOS.

Good ladies, tell a stranger in your land, Does King Aegisthus in this mansion dwell?

CHORUS.

He does, my friend; thou hast conjectured right.

PAEDAGOGOS.

Shall I conjecture right if I take this To be his Queen? She has a queenly look.

CHORUS.

Thou'rt right again; the Queen indeed she is.

PAEDAGOGOS.

Hail, royal lady. From a friend I bring News good for thee and for Aegisthus too.

CLYTAEMNESTRA.

Thy words are pleasing to mine ear; but first I must inquire of thee, who sent thee here?

PAEDAGOGOS.

The Phocian Phanoteus, on errand grave.

CLYTAEMNESTRA.

Say what it is; for as the name is dear Of him that sent thee, glad will be thy news.

PAEDAGOGOS.

Orestes is no more: that is the sum.

ELECTRA.

Alas! alas! I am undone this day.

CLYTAEMNESTRA.

What? what? repeat it; listen not to her.

PAEDAGOGOS.

Again, I say, Orestes is no more.

ELECTRA.

It is my death-blow; I am lost, am lost.

CLYTAEMNESTRA.

Look to thyself, girl. Stranger, tell me true, In what way was it that he met his doom?

PAEDAGOGOS.