Chapter II: Part 2

O Strength of God, slow art thou and still,
Yet failest never!
On them that worship the Ruthless Will,
On them that dream, doth His judgment wait.
Dreams of the proud man, making great
And greater ever,
Things which are not of God. In wide
And devious coverts, hunter-wise,
He coucheth Time's unhasting stride,
Following, following, him whose eyes
Look not to Heaven. For all is vain,
The pulse of the heart, the plot of the brain,
That striveth beyond the laws that live.
And is thy Faith so much to give,
Is it so hard a thing to see,
That the Spirit of God, whate'er it be,
The Law that abides and changes not, ages long,
The Eternal and Nature-born--these things be strong?

What else is Wisdom? What of man's endeavour
Or God's high grace so lovely and so great?
To stand from fear set free, to breathe and wait;
To hold a hand uplifted over Hate;
And shall not Loveliness be loved for ever?

LEADER.

Happy he, on the weary sea
Who hath fled the tempest and won the haven.
Happy whoso hath risen, free,
Above his striving. For strangely graven
Is the orb of life, that one and another
In gold and power may outpass his brother.
And men in their millions float and flow
And seethe with a million hopes as leaven;
And they win their Will, or they miss their Will,
And the hopes are dead or are pined for still;
But whoe'er can know,
As the long days go,
That To Live is happy, hath found his Heaven!

_Re-enter_ DIONYSUS _from the Castle_.

DIONYSUS.

O eye that cravest sights thou must not see, O heart athirst for that which slakes not! Thee, Pentheus, I call; forth and be seen, in guise Of woman, Maenad, saint of Dionyse, To spy upon His Chosen and thine own Mother!

[_Enter_ PENTHEUS, _clad like a Bacchanal, and strangely excited, a
spirit of Bacchic madness overshadowing him_.

Thy shape, methinks, is like to one
Of Cadmus' royal maids!

PENTHEUS.

Yea; and mine eye Is bright! Yon sun shines twofold in the sky, Thebes twofold and the Wall of Seven Gates. . . . And is it a Wild Bull this, that walks and waits Before me? There are horns upon thy brow! What art thou, man or beast? For surely now The Bull is on thee!

DIONYSUS.

He who erst was wrath, Goes with us now in gentleness. He hath Unsealed thine eyes to see what thou shouldst see.

PENTHEUS.

Say; stand I not as Ino stands, or she Who bore me?

DIONYSUS.

When I look on thee, it seems I see their very selves!--But stay; why streams That lock abroad, not where I laid it, crossed Under the coif?

PENTHEUS.

I did it, as I tossed My head in dancing, to and fro, and cried His holy music!

DIONYSUS (_tending him_).

It shall soon be tied Aright. 'Tis mine to tend thee. . . . Nay, but stand With head straight.

PENTHEUS.

In the hollow of thy hand
I lay me. Deck me as thou wilt.

DIONYSUS.

Thy zone Is loosened likewise; and the folded gown Not evenly falling to the feet.

PENTHEUS.

'Tis so, By the right foot. But here, methinks, they flow In one straight line to the heel.

DIONYSUS (_while tending him_).

And if thou prove Their madness true, aye, more than true, what love And thanks hast thou for me?

PENTHEUS (_not listening to him_).

In my right hand Is it, or thus, that I should bear the wand, To be most like to them?

DIONYSUS.

Up let it swing In the right hand, timed with the right foot's spring. . . . 'Tis well thy heart is changed!

PENTHEUS (_more wildly_).

What strength is this! Kithaeron's steeps and all that in them is-- How say'st thou?--Could my shoulders lift the whole?

DIONYSUS.

Surely thou canst, and if thou wilt! Thy soul, Being once so sick, now stands as it should stand.

PENTHEUS.

Shall it be bars of iron? Or this bare hand And shoulder to the crags, to wrench them down?

DIONYSUS.

Wouldst wreck the Nymphs' wild temples, and the brown Rocks, where Pan pipes at noonday?

PENTHEUS.

Nay; not I! Force is not well with women. I will lie Hid in the pine-brake.

DIONYSUS.

Even as fits a spy
On holy and fearful things, so shalt thou lie!

PENTHEUS (_with a laugh_).

They lie there now, methinks--the wild birds, caught By love among the leaves, and fluttering not!

DIONYSUS.

It may be. That is what thou goest to see, Aye, and to trap them--so they trap not thee!

PENTHEUS.

Forth through the Thebans' town! I am their king, Aye, their one Man, seeing I dare this thing!

DIONYSUS.

Yea, thou shalt bear their burden, thou alone; Therefore thy trial awaiteth thee!--But on; With me into thine ambush shalt thou come Unscathed; then let another bear thee home!

PENTHEUS.

The Queen, my mother.

DIONYSUS.

Marked of every eye.

PENTHEUS.

For that I go!

DIONYSUS.

Thou shalt be borne on high!

PENTHEUS.

That were like pride!

DIONYSUS.

Thy mother's hands shall share
Thy carrying.

PENTHEUS.

Nay; I need not such soft care!

DIONYSUS.

So soft?

PENTHEUS.

Whate'er it be, I have earned it well!

[_Exit_ PENTHEUS _towards the Mountain_.

DIONYSUS.

Fell, fell art thou; and to a doom so fell
Thou walkest, that thy name from South to North
Shall shine, a sign for ever!--Reach thou forth
Thine arms, Agave, now, and ye dark-browed
Cadmeian sisters! Greet this prince so proud
To the high ordeal, where save God and me,
None walks unscathed!--The rest this day shall see.

[_Exit_ DIONYSUS _following_ PENTHEUS.

CHORUS.

_Some Maidens._

O hounds raging and blind,
Up by the mountain road,
Sprites of the maddened mind,
To the wild Maids of God;
Fill with your rage their eyes,
Rage at the rage unblest,
Watching in woman's guise,
The spy upon God's Possessed.

_A Bacchanal._

Who shall be first, to mark
Eyes in the rock that spy,
Eyes in the pine-tree dark--
Is it his mother?--and cry:
"Lo, what is this that comes,
Haunting, troubling still,
Even in our heights, our homes,
The wild Maids of the Hill?
What flesh bare this child?
Never on woman's breast
Changeling so evil smiled;
Man is he not, but Beast!
Lion-shape of the wild,
Gorgon-breed of the waste!"

_All the Chorus._

Hither, for doom and deed!
Hither with lifted sword,
Justice, Wrath of the Lord,
Come in our visible need!
Smite till the throat shall bleed,
Smite till the heart shall bleed,
Him the tyrannous, lawless, Godless, Echion's earth-born seed!

_Other Maidens._

Tyrannously hath he trod;
Marched him, in Law's despite,
Against thy Light, O God,
Yea, and thy Mother's Light;
Girded him, falsely bold,
Blinded in craft, to quell
And by man's violence hold
Things unconquerable.

_A Bacchanal._

A strait pitiless mind
Is death unto godliness;
And to feel in human kind
Life, and a pain the less.
Knowledge, we are not foes!
I seek thee diligently;
But the world with a great wind blows,
Shining, and not from thee;
Blowing to beautiful things,
On, amid dark and light,
Till Life, through the trammellings
Of Laws that are not the Right,
Breaks, clean and pure, and sings
Glorying to God in the height!

_All the Chorus._

Hither for doom and deed!
Hither with lifted sword,
Justice, Wrath of the Lord,
Come in our visible need!
Smite till the throat shall bleed,
Smite till the heart shall bleed,
Him the tyrannous, lawless, Godless, Echion's earth-born seed!

LEADER.

Appear, appear, whatso thy shape or name
O Mountain Bull, Snake of the Hundred Heads,
Lion of Burning Flame!
O God, Beast, Mystery, come! Thy mystic maids
Are hunted!--Blast their hunter with thy breath,
Cast o'er his head thy snare;
And laugh aloud and drag him to his death,
Who stalks thy herded madness in its lair!

_Enter hastily a_ MESSENGER _from the Mountain, pale and distraught_.

MESSENGER.

Woe to the house once blest in Hellas! Woe To thee, old King Sidonian, who didst sow The dragon-seed on Ares' bloody lea! Alas, even thy slaves must weep for thee!

LEADER.

News from the mountain?--Speak! How hath it sped?

MESSENGER.

Pentheus, my king, Echion's son, is dead!

LEADER.

All hail, God of the Voice,
Manifest ever more!

MESSENGER.

What say'st thou?--And how strange thy tone, as though In joy at this my master's overthrow!

LEADER.

With fierce joy I rejoice,
Child of a savage shore;
For the chains of my prison are broken, and the dread where I cowered
of yore!

MESSENGER.

And deem'st thou Thebes so beggared, so forlorn Of manhood, as to sit beneath thy scorn?

LEADER.

Thebes hath o'er me no sway!
None save Him I obey,
Dionysus, Child of the Highest, Him I obey and adore!

MESSENGER.

One can forgive thee!--Yet 'tis no fair thing, Maids, to rejoice in a man's suffering.

LEADER.

Speak of the mountain side!
Tell us the doom he died,
The sinner smitten to death, even where his sin was sore!

MESSENGER.

We climbed beyond the utmost habitings Of Theban shepherds, passed Asopus' springs, And struck into the land of rock on dim Kithaeron--Pentheus, and, attending him, I, and the Stranger who should guide our way. Then first in a green dell we stopped, and lay, Lips dumb and feet unmoving, warily Watching, to be unseen and yet to see. A narrow glen it was, by crags o'ertowered, Torn through by tossing waters, and there lowered A shadow of great pines over it. And there The Maenad maidens sate; in toil they were, Busily glad. Some with an ivy chain Tracked a worn wand to toss its locks again; Some, wild in joyance, like young steeds set free, Made answering songs of mystic melody. But my poor master saw not the great band Before him. "Stranger," cried he, "where we stand Mine eyes can reach not these false saints of thine. Mount we the bank, or some high-shouldered pine, And I shall see their follies clear!" At that There came a marvel. For the Stranger straight Touched a great pine-tree's high and heavenward crown, And lower, lower, lower, urged it down To the herbless floor. Round like a bending bow, Or slow wheel's rim a joiner forces to, So in those hands that tough and mountain stem Bowed slow--oh, strength not mortal dwelt in them!-- To the very earth. And there he set the King, And slowly, lest it cast him in its spring, Let back the young and straining tree, till high It towered again amid the towering sky; And Pentheus in the branches! Well, I ween, He saw the Maenads then, and well was seen! For scarce was he aloft, when suddenly There was no Stranger any more with me, But out of Heaven a Voice--oh, what voice else?-- 'Twas He that called! "Behold, O damosels, I bring ye him who turneth to despite Both me and ye, and darkeneth my great Light. 'Tis yours to avenge!" So spake he, and there came 'Twixt earth and sky a pillar of high flame. And silence took the air, and no leaf stirred In all the forest dell. Thou hadst not heard In that vast silence any wild thing's cry. And up they sprang; but with bewildered eye, Agaze and listening, scarce yet hearing true. Then came the Voice again. And when they knew Their God's clear call, old Cadmus' royal brood, Up, like wild pigeons startled in a wood, On flying feet they came, his mother blind, Agave, and her sisters, and behind All the wild crowd, more deeply maddened then, Through the angry rocks and torrent-tossing glen, Until they spied him in the dark pine-tree: Then climbed a crag hard by and furiously Some sought to stone him, some their wands would fling Lance-wise aloft, in cruel targeting. But none could strike. The height o'ertopped their rage, And there he clung, unscathed, as in a cage Caught. And of all their strife no end was found. Then, "Hither," cried Agave; "stand we round And grip the stem, my Wild Ones, till we take This climbing cat-o'-the-mount! He shall not make A tale of God's high dances!" Out then shone Arm upon arm, past count, and closed upon The pine, and gripped; and the ground gave, and down It reeled. And that high sitter from the crown Of the green pine-top, with a shrieking cry Fell, as his mind grew clear, and there hard by Was horror visible. 'Twas his mother stood O'er him, first priestess of those rites of blood. He tore the coif, and from his head away Flung it, that she might know him, and not slay To her own misery. He touched the wild Cheek, crying: "Mother, it is I, thy child, Thy Pentheus, born thee in Echion's hall! Have mercy, Mother! Let it not befall Through sin of mine, that thou shouldst slay thy son!" But she, with lips a-foam and eyes that run Like leaping fire, with thoughts that ne'er should be On earth, possessed by Bacchios utterly, Stays not nor hears. Round his left arm she put Both hands, set hard against his side her foot, Drew . . . and the shoulder severed!--Not by might Of arm, but easily, as the God made light Her hand's essay. And at the other side Was Ino rending; and the torn flesh cried, And on Autonoe pressed, and all the crowd Of ravening arms. Yea, all the air was loud With groans that faded into sobbing breath, Dim shrieks, and joy, and triumph-cries of death. And here was borne a severed arm, and there A hunter's booted foot; white bones lay bare With rending; and swift hands ensanguined Tossed as in sport the flesh of Pentheus dead. His body lies afar. The precipice Hath part, and parts in many an interstice Lurk of the tangled woodland--no light quest To find. And, ah, the head! Of all the rest, His mother hath it, pierced upon a wand, As one might pierce a lion's, and through the land, Leaving her sisters in their dancing place, Bears it on high! Yea, to these walls her face Was set, exulting in her deed of blood, Calling upon her Bromios, her God, Her Comrade, Fellow-Render of the Prey, Her All-Victorious, to whom this day She bears in triumph . . . her own broken heart! For me, after that sight, I will depart Before Agave comes.--Oh, to fulfil God's laws, and have no thought beyond His will, Is man's best treasure. Aye, and wisdom true, Methinks, for things of dust to cleave unto!

[_The_ MESSENGER _departs into the Castle_.

CHORUS.

_Some Maidens._

Weave ye the dance, and call
Praise to God!
Bless ye the Tyrant's fall!
Down is trod
Pentheus, the Dragon's Seed!
Wore he the woman's weed?
Clasped he his death indeed,
Clasped the rod?

_A Bacchanal._

Yea, the wild ivy lapt him, and the doomed Wild Bull of Sacrifice before him loomed!

_Others._

Ye who did Bromios scorn,
Praise Him the more,
Bacchanals, Cadmus-born;
Praise with sore
Agony, yea, with tears!
Great are the gifts he bears!
Hands that a mother rears
Red with gore!

LEADER.

But stay, Agave cometh! And her eyes Make fire around her, reeling! Ho, the prize Cometh! All hail, O Rout of Dionyse!

[_Enter from the Mountain_ AGAVE, _mad, and to all seeming wondrously
happy, bearing the head of_ PENTHEUS _in her hand. The_ CHORUS
MAIDENS _stand horror-struck at the sight; the_ LEADER, _also
horror-struck, strives to accept it and rejoice in it as the God's
deed_.

AGAVE.

Ye from the lands of Morn!

LEADER.

Call me not; I give praise!

AGAVE.

Lo, from the trunk new-shorn
Hither a Mountain Thorn
Bear we! O Asia-born
Bacchanals, bless this chase!

LEADER.

I see. Yea; I see.
Have I not welcomed thee?

AGAVE (_very calmly and peacefully_).

He was young in the wildwood:
Without nets I caught him!
Nay; look without fear on
The Lion; I have ta'en him!

LEADER.

Where in the wildwood?
Whence have ye brought him?

AGAVE.

Kithaeron. . . .

LEADER.

Kithaeron?

AGAVE.

The Mountain hath slain him!

LEADER.

Who first came nigh him?

AGAVE.

I, I, 'tis confessed!
And they named me there by him
Agave the Blessed!

LEADER.

Who was next in the band on him?

AGAVE.

The daughters. . .

LEADER.

The daughters?

AGAVE.

Of Cadmus laid hand on him.
But the swift hand that slaughters
Is mine; mine is the praise!
Bless ye this day of days!

[_The_ LEADER _tries to speak, but is not able_; AGAVE _begins
gently stroking the head_.

AGAVE.

Gather ye now to the feast!

LEADER.

Feast!--O miserable!

AGAVE.

See, it falls to his breast,
Curling and gently tressed,
The hair of the Wild Bull's crest--
The young steer of the fell!

LEADER.

Most like a beast of the wild
That head, those locks defiled.

AGAVE (_lifting up the head, more excitedly_).

He wakened his Mad Ones,
A Chase-God, a wise God!
He sprang them to seize this!
He preys where his band preys.

LEADER (_brooding, with horror_).

In the trail of thy Mad Ones
Thou tearest thy prize, God!

AGAVE.

Dost praise it?

LEADER.

I praise this?

AGAVE.

Ah, soon shall the land praise!

LEADER.

And Pentheus, O Mother,
Thy child?

AGAVE.

He shall cry on
My name as none other,
Bless the spoils of the Lion!

LEADER.

Aye, strange is thy treasure!

AGAVE.

And strange was the taking!

LEADER.

Thou art glad?

AGAVE.

Beyond measure;
Yea, glad in the breaking
Of dawn upon all this land,
By the prize, the prize of my hand!

LEADER.

Show then to all the land, unhappy one, The trophy of this deed that thou hast done!

AGAVE.

Ho, all ye men that round the citadel And shining towers of ancient Thebe dwell, Come! Look upon this prize, this lion's spoil, That we have taken--yea, with our own toil, We, Cadmus' daughters! Not with leathern-set Thessalian javelins, not with hunter's net, Only white arms and swift hands' bladed fall. Why make ye much ado, and boast withal Your armourers' engines? See, these palms were bare That caught the angry beast, and held, and tare The limbs of him! . . . Father! . . . Go, bring to me My father! . . . Aye, and Pentheus, where is he, My son? He shall set up a ladder-stair Against this house, and in the triglyphs there Nail me this lion's head, that gloriously I bring ye, having slain him--I, even I!

[_She goes through the crowd towards the Castle, showing the head and
looking for a place to hang it. Enter from the Mountain_ CADMUS,
_with attendants, bearing the body of_ PENTHEUS _on a bier_.

CADMUS.

On, with your awful burden. Follow me, Thralls, to his house, whose body grievously With many a weary search at last in dim Kithaeron's glens I found, torn limb from limb, And through the interweaving forest weed Scattered.--Men told me of my daughters' deed, When I was just returned within these walls, With grey Teiresias, from the Bacchanals. And back I hied me to the hills again To seek my murdered son. There saw I plain Actaeon's mother, ranging where he died, Autonoe; and Ino by her side, Wandering ghastly in the pine-copses. Agave was not there. The rumour is She cometh fleet-foot hither.--Ah! 'Tis true; A sight I scarce can bend mine eyes unto.

AGAVE
(_turning from the Palace and seeing him_).

My father, a great boast is thine this hour. Thou hast begotten daughters, high in power And valiant above all mankind--yea, all Valiant, though none like me! I have let fall The shuttle by the loom, and raised my hand For higher things, to slay from out thy land Wild beasts! See, in mine arms I bear the prize, That nailed above these portals it may rise To show what things thy daughters did! Do thou Take it, and call a feast. Proud art thou now And highly favoured in our valiancy!

CADMUS.

O depth of grief, how can I fathom thee Or look upon thee!--Poor, poor, bloodstained hand! Poor sisters!--A fair sacrifice to stand Before God's altars, daughter; yea, and call Me and my citizens to feast withal! Nay, let me weep--for thine affliction most, Then for mine own. All, all of us are lost, Not wrongfully, yet is it hard, from one Who might have loved--our Bromios, our own!

AGAVE.

How crabbed and how scowling in the eyes Is man's old age!--Would that my son likewise Were happy of his hunting, in my way, When with his warrior bands he will essay The wild beast!--Nay, his valiance is to fight With God's will! Father, thou shouldst set him right. . . . Will no one bring him hither, that mine eyes May look on his, and show him this my prize!

CADMUS.

Alas, if ever ye can know again The truth of what ye did, what pain of pain That truth shall bring! Or were it best to wait Darkened for evermore, and deem your state Not misery, though ye know no happiness?

AGAVE.

What seest thou here to chide, or not to bless?

CADMUS (_after hesitation, resolving himself_).

Raise me thine eyes to yon blue dome of air!

AGAVE.

'Tis done. What dost thou bid me seek for there?

CADMUS.

Is it the same, or changed in thy sight?

AGAVE.

More shining than before, more heavenly bright!

CADMUS.

And that wild tremor, is it with thee still?

AGAVE (_troubled_).

I know not what thou sayest; but my will Clears, and some change cometh, I know not how.

CADMUS.

Canst hearken then, being changed, and answer, now?

AGAVE.

I have forgotten something; else I could.

CADMUS.

What husband led thee of old from mine abode?

AGAVE.

Echion, whom men named the Child of Earth.

CADMUS.

And what child in Echion's house had birth?

AGAVE.

Pentheus, of my love and his father's bred.

CADMUS.

Thou bearest in thine arms an head--what head?

AGAVE
(_beginning to tremble, and not looking at what she carries_).

A lion's--so they all said in the chase.

CADMUS.

Turn to it now--'tis no long toil--and gaze.

AGAVE.

Ah! But what is it? What am I carrying here?

CADMUS.

Look once upon it full, till all be clear!

AGAVE.

I see . . . most deadly pain! Oh, woe is me!

CADMUS.

Wears it the likeness of a lion to thee?

AGAVE.

No; 'tis the head--O God!--of Pentheus, this!

CADMUS.

Blood-drenched ere thou wouldst know him! Aye, 'tis his.

AGAVE.

Who slew him?--How came I to hold this thing?

CADMUS.

O cruel Truth, is this thine home-coming?

AGAVE.

Answer! My heart is hanging on thy breath!

CADMUS.

'Twas thou.--Thou and thy sisters wrought his death.

AGAVE.

In what place was it? His own house, or where?

CADMUS.

Where the dogs tore Actaeon, even there.

AGAVE.

Why went he to Kithaeron? What sought he?

CADMUS.

To mock the God and thine own ecstasy.

AGAVE.

But how should we be on the hills this day?

CADMUS.

Being mad! A spirit drove all the land that way.

AGAVE.

'Tis Dionyse hath done it! Now I see.

CADMUS (_earnestly_).

Ye wronged Him! Ye denied his deity!

AGAVE (_turning from him_).

Show me the body of the son I love!

CADMUS (_leading her to the bier_).

'Tis here, my child. Hard was the quest thereof.

AGAVE.

Laid in due state?

[_As there is no answer, she lifts the veil of the bier, and sees._

Oh, if I wrought a sin,
'Twas mine! What portion had my child therein?

CADMUS.

He made him like to you, adoring not
The God; who therefore to one bane hath brought
You and this body, wrecking all our line,
And me. Aye, no man-child was ever mine;
And now this first-fruit of the flesh of thee,
Sad woman, foully here and frightfully
Lies murdered! Whom the house looked up unto,
[_Kneeling by the body._
O Child, my daughter's child! who heldest true
My castle walls; and to the folk a name
Of fear thou wast; and no man sought to shame
My grey beard, when they knew that thou wast there,
Else had they swift reward!--And now I fare
Forth in dishonour, outcast, I, the great
Cadmus, who sowed the seed-rows of this state
Of Thebes, and reaped the harvest wonderful.
O my beloved, though thy heart is dull
In death, O still beloved, and alway
Beloved! Never more, then, shalt thou lay
Thine hand to this white beard, and speak to me
Thy "Mother's Father"; ask "Who wrongeth thee?
Who stints thine honour, or with malice stirs
Thine heart? Speak, and I smite thine injurers!"
But now--woe, woe, to me and thee also,
Woe to thy mother and her sisters, woe
Alway! Oh, whoso walketh not in dread
Of Gods, let him but look on this man dead!

LEADER.

Lo, I weep with thee. 'Twas but due reward
God sent on Pentheus; but for thee . . . 'Tis hard.

AGAVE.

My father, thou canst see the change in me,

* * * * *
* * * * *

[_A page or more has here been torn out of the MS. from which all our copies of "The Bacchae" are derived. It evidently contained a speech of Agave (followed presumably by some words of the Chorus), and an appearance of_ DIONYSUS _upon a cloud. He must have pronounced judgment upon the Thebans in general, and especially upon the daughters of_ CADMUS, _have justified his own action, and declared his determination to establish his godhead. Where the MS. begins again, we find him addressing_ CADMUS.]

* * * * *

DIONYSUS.

* * * * * * * * * * And tell of Time, what gifts for thee he bears, What griefs and wonders in the winding years. For thou must change and be a Serpent Thing Strange, and beside thee she whom thou didst bring Of old to be thy bride from Heaven afar, Harmonia, daughter of the Lord of War. Yea, and a chariot of kine--so spake The word of Zeus--thee and thy Queen shall take Through many lands, Lord of a wild array Of orient spears. And many towns shall they Destroy beneath thee, that vast horde, until They touch Apollo's dwelling, and fulfil Their doom, back driven on stormy ways and steep. Thee only and thy spouse shall Ares keep, And save alive to the Islands of the Blest. Thus speaketh Dionysus, Son confessed Of no man but of Zeus!--Ah, had ye seen Truth in the hour ye would not, all had been Well with ye, and the Child of God your friend!

AGAVE.

Dionysus, we beseech thee! We have sinned!

DIONYSUS.

Too late! When there was time, ye knew me not!

AGAVE.

We have confessed. Yet is thine hand too hot.

DIONYSUS.

Ye mocked me, being God; this is your wage.

AGAVE.

Should God be like a proud man in his rage?

DIONYSUS.

'Tis as my sire, Zeus, willed it long ago.

AGAVE (_turning from him almost with disdain_).

Old Man, the word is spoken; we must go.

DIONYSUS.

And seeing ye must, what is it that ye wait?

CADMUS.

Child, we are come into a deadly strait, All; thou, poor sufferer, and thy sisters twain, And my sad self. Far off to barbarous men, A grey-haired wanderer, I must take my road. And then the oracle, the doom of God, That I must lead a raging horde far-flown To prey on Hellas; lead my spouse, mine own Harmonia, Ares' child, discorporate And haunting forms, dragon and dragon-mate. Against the tombs and altar-stones of Greece, Lance upon lance behind us; and not cease From toils, like other men, nor dream, nor past The foam of Acheron find my peace at last.

AGAVE.

Father! And I must wander far from thee!

CADMUS.

O Child, why wilt thou reach thine arms to me, As yearns the milk-white swan, when old swans die?

AGAVE.

Where shall I turn me else? No home have I.

CADMUS.

I know not; I can help thee not.

AGAVE.

Farewell, O home, O ancient tower!
Lo, I am outcast from my bower,
And leave ye for a worser lot.

CADMUS.

Go forth, go forth to misery,
The way Actaeon's father went!

AGAVE.

Father, for thee my tears are spent.

CADMUS.

Nay, Child, 'tis I must weep for thee;

For thee and for thy sisters twain!

AGAVE.

On all this house, in bitter wise,
Our Lord and Master, Dionyse,
Hath poured the utter dregs of pain!

DIONYSUS.

In bitter wise, for bitter was the shame Ye did me, when Thebes honoured not my name.

AGAVE.

Then lead me where my sisters be;
Together let our tears be shed,
Our ways be wandered; where no red
Kithaeron waits to gaze on me;
Nor I gaze back; no thyrsus stem,
Nor song, nor memory in the air.
Oh, other Bacchanals be there,
Not I, not I, to dream of them!

[AGAVE _with her group of attendants goes out on the side away from
the Mountain_. DIONYSUS _rises upon the Cloud and disappears_.

CHORUS.

There be many shapes of mystery.
And many things God makes to be,
Past hope or fear.
And the end men looked for cometh not,
And a path is there where no man thought.
So hath it fallen here. [_Exeunt._

NOTES ON THE BACCHAE

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

The _Bacchae_, being from one point of view a religious drama, a kind of "mystery play," is full of allusions both to the myth and to the religion of Dionysus.

1. The Myth, as implied by Euripides. Semele, daughter of Cadmus, being loved by Zeus, asked her divine lover to appear to her once in his full glory; he came, a blaze of miraculous lightning, in the ecstasy of which Semele died, giving premature birth to a son. Zeus, to save this child's life and make him truly God as well as Man, tore open his own flesh and therein fostered the child till in due time, by a miraculous and mysterious Second Birth, the child of Semele came to full life as God.

2. The Religion of Dionysus is hard to formulate or even describe, both because of its composite origins and because of its condition of constant vitality, fluctuation, and development.

(_a_) The first datum, apparently, is the introduction from Thrace of the characteristic God of the wild northern mountains, a God of Intoxication, of Inspiration, a giver of superhuman or immortal life. His worship is superposed upon that of divers old Tree or Vegetation Gods, already worshipped in Greece. He becomes specially the God of the Vine. Originally a god of the common folk, despised and unauthorised, he is eventually so strong as to be adopted into the Olympian hierarchy as the "youngest" of the Gods, son of Zeus. His "Olympian" name, so to speak, is Dionysus, but in his worship he is addressed by numbers of names, more or less mystic and secret--Bromios, Bacchios or Baccheus, Iacchos, Eleuthercus, Zagreus, Sabazios, &c. Some of these may be the names of old spirits whom he has displaced; some are his own Thracian names. Bromos and Sabaja, for instance, seem to have been Thracian names for two kinds of intoxicating drink. Bacchos means a "wand." Together with his many names, he has many shapes, especially appearing as a Bull and a Serpent.

(_b_) This religion, very primitive and barbarous, but possessing a strong hold over the emotions of the common people, was seized upon and transfigured by the great wave of religious reform, known under the name of Orphism, which swept over Greece and South Italy in the sixth century B.C., and influenced the teachings of such philosophers as Pythagoras, Aristeas, Empedocles, and the many writers on purification and the world after death. Orphism may very possibly represent an ancient Cretan religion in clash or fusion with one from Thrace. At any rate, it was grafted straight upon the Dionysus-worship, and, without rationalising, spiritualised and reformed it. Ascetic, mystical, ritualistic, and emotional, Orphism easily excited both enthusiasm and ridicule. It lent itself both to inspired saintliness and to imposture. In doctrine it laid especial stress upon sin, and the sacerdotal purification of sin; on the eternal reward due beyond the grave to the pure and the impure, the pure living in an eternal ecstasy--"perpetual intoxication," as Plato satirically calls it--the impure toiling through long ages to wash out their stains. It recast in various ways the myth of Dionysus, and especially the story of his Second Birth. All true worshippers become in a mystical sense one with the God; they are born again and are "Bacchoi." Dionysus being the God within, the perfectly pure soul is possessed by the God wholly, and becomes nothing but the God.

Based on very primitive rites and feelings, on the religion of men who made their gods in the image of snakes and bulls and fawns, because they hardly felt any difference of kind between themselves and the animals, the worship of Dionysus kept always this feeling of kinship with wild things. The beautiful side of this feeling is vividly conspicuous in _The Bacchae_. And the horrible side is not in the least concealed.

A curious relic of primitive superstition and cruelty remained firmly imbedded in Orphism--a doctrine irrational and unintelligible, and for that very reason wrapped in the deepest and most sacred mystery: a belief in the sacrifice of Dionysus himself, and the purification of man by his blood.

It seems possible that the savage Thracians, in the fury of their worship on the mountains, when they were possessed by the God and became "wild beasts," actually tore with their teeth and hands any hares, goats, fawns, or the like that they came across. There survives a constant tradition of inspired Bacchanals in their miraculous strength tearing even bulls asunder--a feat, happily, beyond the bounds of human possibility. The wild beast that tore was, of course, the savage God himself. And by one of those curious confusions of thought, which seem so inconceivable to us and so absolutely natural and obvious to primitive men, the beast torn was also the God! The Orphic congregations of later times, in their most holy gatherings, solemnly partook of the blood of a bull, which was, by a mystery, the blood of Dionysus-Zagreus himself, the "Bull of God," slain in sacrifice for the purification of man. And the Maenads of poetry and myth, among more beautiful proofs of their superhuman or infra-human character, have always to tear bulls in pieces and taste of the blood. It is noteworthy, and throws much light on the spirit of Orphism, that apart from this sacramental tasting of the blood, the Orphic worshipper held it an abomination to eat the flesh of animals at all. The same religious fervour and zeal for purity which made him reject the pollution of animal food, made him at the same time cling to a ceremonial which would utterly disgust the ordinary hardened flesh-eater. It fascinated him just because it was so incredibly primitive and uncanny; because it was a mystery which transcended reason!

It will be observed that Euripides, though certainly familiar with Orphism--which he mentions in _The Hippolytus_ and treated at length in _The Cretans_ (see Appendix)--has in _The Bacchae_ gone back behind Orphism to the more primitive stuff from which it was made. He has little reference to any specially Orphic doctrine; not a word, for instance, about the immortality of the soul. And his idealisation or spiritualisation of Dionysus-worship proceeds along the lines of his own thought, not on those already fixed by the Orphic teachers.

* * * * *

P. 80, l. 17, Asia all that by the salt sea lies, &c.], _i.e._ the coasts of Asia Minor inhabited by Greeks, Ionia, Aeolis, and Doris.

P. 80, l. 27, From Dian seed.]--Dian=belonging to Zeus. The name Dionysus seemed to be derived from [Greek: Dios], the genitive of "Zeus."

P. 81, l. 50, Should this Theban town essay with wrath and battle, &c.]--This suggestion of a possibility which is never realised or approached is perhaps a mark of the unrevised condition of the play. The same may be said of the repetitions in the Prologue.

Pp. 82-86, ll. 64-169.--This first song of the Chorus covers a great deal of Bacchic doctrine and myth. The first strophe, "Oh blessed he in all wise," &c., describes the bliss of Bacchic purity; the antistrophe gives the two births of Dionysus, from Semele and from the body of Zeus, mentioning his mystic epiphanies as Bull and as Serpent. The next strophe is an appeal to Thebes, the birthplace or "nurse" of the God's mother, Semele; the antistrophe, an appeal to the cavern in Crete, the birthplace of Zeus, the God's father, and the original home of the mystic Timbrel. The Epode, or closing song, is full, not of doctrine, but of the pure poetry of the worship.

Pp. 86-95, ll. 170-369, Teiresias and Cadmus.]--Teiresias seems to be not a spokesman of the poet's own views--far from it--but a type of the more cultured sort of Dionysiac priest, not very enlightened, but ready to abate some of the extreme dogmas of his creed if he may keep the rest. Cadmus, quite a different character, takes a very human and earthly point of view: the God is probably a true God; but even if he is false, there is no great harm done, and the worship will bring renown to Thebes and the royal family. It is noteworthy how full of pity Cadmus is--the sympathetic kindliness of the sons of this world as contrasted with the pitilessness of gods and their devotees. See especially the last scenes of the play. Even his final outburst of despair at not dying like other men (p. 152), shows the same sympathetic humanity.

Pp. 89 ff., ll. 215-262.--Pentheus, though his case against the new worship is so good, and he might so easily have been made into a fine martyr, like Hippolytus, is left harsh and unpleasant, and very close in type to the ordinary "tyrant" of Greek tragedy (cf. p. 118). It is also noteworthy, I think, that he is, as it were, out of tone with the other characters. He belongs to a different atmosphere, like, to take a recent instance, Golaud in _Pelleas et Melisande_.

P. 91, l. 263, Injurious King, &c.]--It is a mark of a certain yielding to stage convention in Euripides' later style, that he allows the Chorus Leader to make remarks which are not "asides," but are yet not heard or noticed by anybody.

P. 91, l. 264, Sower of the Giants' sod.]--Cadmus, by divine guidance, slew a dragon and sowed the teeth of it like seed in the "Field of Ares." From the teeth rose a harvest of Earth-born, or "Giant" warriors, of whom Echion was one.

P. 92, l. 287, Learn the truth of it, cleared from the false.]--This timid essay in rationalism reminds one of similar efforts in Pindar (e.g. _Ol._ i.). It is the product of a religious and unspeculative mind, not feeling difficulties itself, but troubled by other people's questions and objections. (See above on Teiresias.)

P. 92, l. 292, The world-encircling Fire.]--This fire, or ether, was the ordinary material of which phantoms or apparitions were made.

Pp. 93-95, ll. 330-369.--These three speeches are very clearly contrasted. Cadmus, thoroughly human, thinking of sympathy and expediency, and vividly remembering the fate of his other grandson, Actaeon; Pentheus, angry and "tyrannical"; Teiresias speaking like a Christian priest of the Middle Ages, almost like Tennyson's Becket.

P. 95, l. 370.--The goddess [Greek: Hosia], "Purity," seems to be one of the many abstractions which were half personified by philosophy and by Orphism. It is possible that the word is really adjectival, "Immaculate One," and originally an epithet of some more definite goddess, _e.g._ as Miss Harrison suggests, of Nemesis.

In this and other choruses it is very uncertain how the lines should be distributed between the whole chorus, the two semi-choruses, and the various individual choreutae.

Pp. 97-98, ll. 402-430.--For the meaning of these lines, see Introduction, pp. lxi, lxii.

P. 100, l. 471, These emblems.]--There were generally associated with mysteries, or special forms of worship, certain relics or sacred implements, without which the rites could not be performed. Cf. Hdt. vii. 153, where Telines of Gela stole the sacred implements or emblems of the nether gods, so that no worship could be performed, and the town was, as it were, excommunicated.

P. 103, ll. 493 ff., _The soldiers cut off the tress._]--The stage directions here are difficult. It is conceivable that none of Pentheus' threats are carried out at all; that the God mysteriously paralyses the hand that is lifted to take his rod without Pentheus himself knowing it. But I think it more likely that the humiliation of Dionysus is made, as far as externals go, complete, and that it is not till later that he begins to show his superhuman powers.

P. 104, l. 508, So let it be.]--The name Pentheus suggests 'mourner,' from _penthos_, 'mourning.'

P. 105, l. 519, Acheloues' roaming daughter.]--Acheloues was the Father of all Rivers.

P. 107, l. 556, In thine own Nysa.]--An unknown divine mountain, formed apparently to account for the second part of the name Dionysus.

P. 107, l. 571, Cross the Lydias, &c.]--These are rivers of Thrace which Dionysus must cross in his passage from the East, the Lydias, the Axios, and some other, perhaps the Haliacmon, which is called "the father-stream of story."

P. 108, l. 579, A Voice, a Voice.]--Bromios, the God of Many Voices--for, whatever the real derivation, the fifth-century Greeks certainly associated the name with [Greek: bremo], 'to roar'--manifests himself as a voice here and below (p. 136).

Pp. 109-112, ll. 602-641, Ye Damsels of the Morning Hills, &c.]--This scene in longer metre always strikes me as a little unlike the style of Euripides, and inferior. It may mark one of the parts left unfinished by the poet, and written in by his son. But it may be that I have not understood it.

P. 118, ll. 781 ff., Call all who spur the charger, &c.]--The typical 'Ercles vein' of the tragic tyrant.

Pp. 120-124, ll. 810 ff.--This scene of the 'hypnotising'--if one may use the word--of Pentheus probably depends much on the action, which, however, I have not ventured to prescribe. Pentheus seems to struggle against the process all through, to be amazed at himself for consenting, while constantly finding fresh reasons for doing so.

P. 121, l. 822, Am I a woman, then?]--The robe and coif were, in the original legend, marks of the Thracian dress worn by the Thracian followers of Dionysus, and notably by Orpheus. The tradition became fixed that Pentheus wore such a robe and coif; and to the Greeks of Euripides' time such a dress seemed to be a woman's. Hence this turn of the story (cf. above, p. 167).

P. 125, ll. 877-881.--The refrain of this chorus about the fawn is difficult to interpret. I have practically interpolated the third line ("To stand from fear set free, to breathe and wait"), in order (1) to show the connection of ideas; (2) to make clearer the meaning (as I understand it) of the two Orphic formulae, "What is beautiful is beloved for ever," and "A hand uplifted over the head of Hate." If I am wrong, the refrain is probably a mere cry for revenge, in the tone of the refrain, "Hither for doom and deed," on p. 132. It is one of the many passages where there is a sharp antagonism between the two spirits of the Chorus, first, as furious Bacchanals, and, secondly, as exponents of the idealised Bacchic religion of Euripides, which is so strongly expressed in the rest of this wonderful lyric.

P. 127, l. 920, Is it a Wild Bull, this?]--Pentheus, in his Bacchic possession, sees fitfully the mystic shapes of the God beneath the human disguise. This second-sight, the exaltation of spirit, and the feeling of supernatural strength come to Pentheus as they came to the two Old Men. But to them the change came peacefully and for good; to Pentheus it comes by force, stormily and for evil, because his will was against the God.

P. 131, l. 976, O hounds raging and blind.]--_i.e._ Spirits of Madness. This lyric prepares us for what follows, especially for Agave's delusion, which otherwise might have been hard to understand. I have tried to keep the peculiar metre of the original, the dochmiac, with a few simple licences. The scheme is based on u-- --u-- or --uu --u-- the latter being much commoner.

P. 133, ll. 997-1011.--The greater part of this chorus is generally abandoned as unintelligible and corrupt. The last ten lines ("Knowledge, we are not foes," &c.) will, I think, make sense if we accept a very slight conjecture of my own, [Greek: aenton], "let them blow", instead of the impossible [Greek: aei ton]. The four lines before that ("A strait pitiless mind," &c.) are an almost literal translation of the MS. reading, which, however, is incorrect in metre, and therefore cannot be exactly what Euripides wrote.

P. 134, l. 1036, And deem'st thou Thebes so beggared.]--The couplet is incomplete in the MS. But the sense needed is obvious.

P. 137, l. 1120, Let it not befall through sin of mine, &c.]--This note of unselfish feeling, of pity and humanity, becomes increasingly marked in all the victims of Dionysus towards the end of the play, and contrasts the more vividly with the God's pitilessness. Cadmus is always gentle, and always thinking of the sufferings of others; and, indeed, so is Agave, after her return to reason, though with more resentment against the oppressor.

Pp. 139-143, ll. 1165-1200.--This marvellous scene defies comment. But I may be excused for remarking (1) that the psychological change of the chorus is, to my mind, proved by the words of the original, and does not in the least depend on my interpolated stage directions; (2) the extraordinary exultation of Agave is part of her Bacchic possession. It is not to be supposed that, if she had really killed a lion, such joy would be the natural thing.

P. 141, _after_ l. 1183, _The Leader tries to speak_, &c.]--It is also possible that by some error of a scribe two lines have been omitted in the MS. But I think the explanation given in the text more probable and more dramatic.

P. 142, l. 1195, And Pentheus, O Mother?]--The Leader mentions Pentheus, I suppose, in order deliberately to test Agave's delusion, to see if she is indeed utterly unconscious of the truth.

P. 146, l. 1267, More shining than before, &c.]--The sight of the pure heaven brings back light to her mind--that is clear. But does she mean that the sky is brighter because of her madness which still remains, or that it is brighter now, after having been darkened in her madness?

P. 149, l. 1313, And now I fare forth in dishonour.]--He has not yet been sentenced to exile, though he might well judge that after such pollution all his family would be banished. But probably this is another mark of the unrevised state of the play.

P. 151, l. 1330, For thou must change and be a Serpent Thing, &c.]--A prophecy like this is a very common occurrence in the last scenes of Euripides' tragedies. "The subject of the play is really a long chain of events. The poet fixes on some portion of it--the action of one day, generally speaking--and treats it as a piece of vivid concrete life, led up to by a merely narrative introduction (the Prologue), and melting away into a merely narrative close. The method is to our taste undramatic, but it is explicable enough. It falls in with the tendency of Greek art to finish, not with a climax, but with a lessening of strain" (_Greek Literature_, p. 267).

The prophecy was that Cadmus and Harmonia should be changed into serpents and should lead a host of barbarian invaders--identified with an Illyrian tribe, the Encheleis--against Hellas; they should prosper until they laid hands on the treasures of Delphi, and then be destroyed. Herodotus says that the Persians were influenced by this prophecy when they refrained from attacking Delphi (Hdt. ix. 42).

Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co. Edinburgh & London

_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_

HISTORY OF ANCIENT GREEK LITERATURE.

ANDROMACHE: A Play.

CARLYON SAHIB: A Play.

THE EXPLOITATION OF INFERIOR RACES, IN ANCIENT AND MODERN TIMES:
An Essay in "Liberalism and the Empire."

EURIPIDIS FABULAE: Brevi Adnotatione Critica Instructae,
Vols. I. and II.

EURIPIDES: The Trojan Women.
Electra.

_Translated into English Verse._

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE

The dochmiacs (poetic metres) on page 92 express extreme agitation or distress. The u refers to an unstressed syllable and the m-dash refers to a long or stressed syllable. In the text version they have been replaced with u-- --u-- and --uu --u-- whereas in the HTML version images of the original have been used.

Minor variations in spelling and punctuation have been preserved.

<pre id="pg-footer">