NO MASTER NEGATIVE 93-80811-7 MICROFILMED 1993 COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES/NEW YORK as part of the "Foundations of Western Civilization Preservation Project" Funded by the NATIONAL ENDOWMENT FOR THE HUMANITIES Reproductions may not be made without permission from Columbia University Library COPYRIGHT STATEMENT The copyright law of the United States - Title 17, United States Code - concerns the making of photocopies or other reproductions of copyrighted material. Under certain conditions specified in the law, libraries and archives are authorized to furnish a photocopy or other reproduction. One of these specified conditions is that the photocopy or other reproduction is not to be "used for any purpose other than private study, scholarship, or research." If a user makes a request for, or later uses, a photocopy or reproduction for purposes in excess of "fair use," that user may be liable for copyright infringement. This institution reserves the right to refuse to accept a copy order if, in its judgement, fulfillment of the order would involve violation of the copyright law. AUTHOR: MOULTON GREEN RICHARD TITLE: I ANCIENT COMEDY FOR ENGLISH AUDIENCES . PLACE: CHICAGO DATE: 1900 COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES PRESERVATION DEPARTMENT Master Negative # BIBLIOGRAPHIC MICROFORM TARnF.T Original Material as Filmed - Existing Bibliographic Record ■^pp^ p«« . »- " i .i | .-. | .j|.ui. I, n il — i WPJ I Restrictions on Use: ^oulton, Richard Greon, 1849-1924. .^ ... Ancient conedy for English audiences, syllf^ bus o^ a course of six lecture- studios, by Richard mo.lZ^ G. lloulton... Chicaco, University of Chicago M ?6 press, 1900. I i i f { 10 p. 20 cm* At head of title: The University of Chicago.The University Extension. The lecturo-study department no. 39, part 1. .'„.-,■, Acconpanied by the author's Book of illus- trations; ancient ^^ conedy, 50 p. and his Book of.illustrations'» ancient tragedy, 87 p. TECHNICAL MICROFORM DATA REDUCTION RATIO: '' ^ FILM SIZE:__BSVv^i2^ IMAGE PLACEMENT: lA (J^ IB IIB , DATE FILMED: ^l^X-'?^ INITIALS.^/};^^ HLMEDBY: RESEARCH PUBLICATIONS. INC WOODBRIDGE. CT BIBLIOGRAPHIC IRREGULARITIES MAIN ENTRY TTePiA KJf..rl-h>^ £t^ /i^JIienceSn, Bibliographic Irregulari Kes in tho On^inal Dociimpnf list volumes and pages affected; include name of institution if filming borrowed text. Page(s) missing/ not available: / yolimies(s) missing/not available:. .Illegible and/or damaged page(s): ^S'-Z^^/g-zo Page(s) or volumes(s) misnimabered: Bound out of sequence:. 1 Page(s) or illustration(s) filmed from copy borrowed from:. pther:_££z£± -^Jy\e ^^Xi<^ ^ SL ^^. ,%^„ ^ c Association for Information and Image IManagement 1100 Wayne Avenue. Suite 1100. Silver Spring. Maryland 20910 301/587-8202 Centimeter 12 3 4 5 iiiiliiiiliiiiliiiiliiiiliiiiliiiiliiiiliiiiliiii 1111 6 7 8 iiiliiiiliiiiliiiiliiiiliii 9 10 11 iiiliiiiliiiiliiiilimli 12 13 14 15 mm iiiiliimii ll|HII|IHII Hii|Hii I I I m Inches \ Ml TTT TTT 1.0 1.1 1.25 != ip-» 2.5 la III" 2.2 !f 3.* 2.0 1.8 1.4 1.6 1 N MflNUFflCTURED TO RUM STfiNDfiRDS BY fiPPLIED IMRGEp INC. fv------ .-»■'-" •--J'J' 2Sl I BSO.ia. M8G Columbia llnittcvsity itt the ®it» of ll«w %)0vU ihxux^ i s A ILLUSTRATIONS V The Ancient Drama (TRAGEDY) \ CONTENTS STORY OF ORESTES [Oresteia], K Trilogy by iEscHYLUS - 5 AGAMEMNON 5 THE SEPULCHRAL RITES [Choephort] - - - 20 THE GENTLE GODDESSES [Eumenides\ - - 27 ELECTRAy BY Sophocles - - - - - - 34 ELECTRA, BY Euripides ... - - 42 ALCESTISy BY Euripides - - - - • - 52 THE CYCLOPS, by Euripides ----- 72 THE BACCHANALS, by Euripides - - - - 73 Miscellaneous Passages - - ... - 79 REFERENCES In the case of jEschylus and Sophocles the numbering of lines agrees with that in the translations of Plumptre and in the original. In the plays from Euripides the numbering is that of the lines in the cheap translation (Routledges Universal Library), \ A CONDENSATION OF THE TRILOGY STORY OF ORESTES [ORESTEIA] BEING THE ONLY GREEK TRILOGY, OR THREE-PLAY DRAMA, WHICH HAS COME DOWN TO US COMPLETE CONSISTING or Morning Play: AGAMEMNON Midday Play: THE SEPULCHRAL RITES [Choephori^ Afternoon Play: THE GENTLE GODDESSES [Eumenides^ Composed by iESCHYLUS, and Brought on the Stage at Athens AT the Festival of the 'Greater Dionysia,' in March of 458 b.c., during the political excitement occasioned by the Popular Attack on the Aristocratic Court of Mars' Hill, or Areopagus The passages quoted are from Plumptre's Translation ( r T MEMORANDUM The Sacred Legends touched by this Trilogy would be familiar, in outline, to the Auditors: e,g.: The woes of the House of Atreus : the foundation of them laid by Atreus when, to take vengeance on his brother Thyestes, he served up to him at a banquet the flesh of his own sons; //is grandsons were Agamemnon and Menelaus : Menelaus' wife, //elen, was stolen by a guest, Paris of Troy, which caused the great Trojan war, Agamemnon, who commanded the Greek nations in that war, fretting at the contrary winds which delayed the setting out of the fleet, was persuaded by the Seers to slay his own daughter /phigenia, to appease the Deities ; //er mother Clytcemnestra treasured up this wrong all through ^ . the ten years' war, and slew Agamemnon on his return, in the moment / of victory, slew him while in his bath by casting a net over him and smiting him to death with her own arm ; Then she reigned in triumph with ^gisthus her paramour {him- self one of the fatal house), till Orestes her son, who had escaped as an infant when his father was slaughtered, returned at last, and slew the guilty pair ; For this act of matricide, though done by the command of Apollo, Orestes was given up to the Furies, and driven over the earth, a mad- man, till in Athens, on Mars //ill they say, he was cleansed and healed. Cassandra too was involved in the fall of Agamemnon : the Trojan maiden beloved of Apollo, who bestowed upon her the gift of pro- phecy; when she slighted the God's love, Apollo— for no gift of a god can be recalled— left her a prophetess, with the doom that her true forebodings should ever be disbelieved. She, having thus vainly sought to save Troy, with its fall fell into captivity, and to the lot of Agamemnon, with whom she died. The name of Orestes would suggest the proverbial friendship of Orestes and Py lades, formed in Orestes" trouble and never broken. ^V TRILOGY OF THE ORESTEIA AGAMEMNON FIRST PLAY: IN THE MORNING: PROLOGUE The Permanent Scene is decorated to represent the facade of the Palace of Agamemnon, at Argos; the platform over the Central door appear- ing as a Watch-tower. At intervals along the front of the Palace, and especially by the three doors, are statues of Gods, amongst them Apollo, Zeus, and //ermes. The time is supposed to be night, verging on morn- ing. Both Orchestra and Stage are vacant: only a Watchman is dis- covered on the Tower, leaning on his elbow, and gazing into the distance. The Watchman soliloquizes on his toilsome task of watching all night through for the first sight of the signal which is to tell of the capture of Troy : he has kept his post for years, till the constellations which usher in winter and harvest-time are his familiar companions; he must endure weather and sleeplessness, and when he would sing to keep his spirits up he is checked by thoughts of his absent master's household, in which, he darkly hints, things are "not well." [He is settling himself into an easier posture, when suddenly he springs to his feet. '\ The beacon-fire at last I [//e shouts the signal agreed upon, and begins dancing for joy. '\ Now all will be well ; a little while and his hand shall touch the dear hand of his lord ; and then — ah 1 "the weight of an ox rests on his tongue," but if the house had a voice it could tell a tale ! \^Exit to bring tidings to the queen,'\ 39 PARODE, OR CHORUS-ENTRY As if roused by the Watchman's shout, enter the Chorus : Twelve Elders of Argos : in the usual processional order, combining music, chanting and gesture-dance, to a rhythm conventionally associated with marching. They enter on the right (as if from the city), and the Processional Chant takes them gradually round the Orchestra towards the Thymele, or Altar of Dionysus, in the centre. The Chorus in their Processional Chant open the general state of affairs, especially bringing out the doublesidedtiess of the situation [which is the key-note of the whole Drama]: the expected triumph over Troy, which can- not be far distant now, combined with misgivings as to misfortunes sure to come as nemesis for the dark deeds connected with the setting out of the expedition. They open thus : 10 Lo ! the tenth year now is passing Since, of Priam great avengers, Menelaos, Agamemnon, Double-throned and double-sceptred, Power from sovran Zeus deriving — Mighty pair of the Atreidae — Raised a fleet of thousand vessels 40 353062 \l Of the Argives from our country. Potent helpers in their warfare. Shouting cry of Ares fiercely ; E'en as vultures shriek who hover, Wheeling, whirling o'er their eyrie, 50 In wild sorrow for their nestlings, With their oars of stout wings rowing, Having lost the toil that bound them To their callow fledglings' couches. But on high One — or Apollo, Zeus, or Pan, — the shrill cry hearing, Cry of birds that are his clients, Sendeth forth on men transgressing Erinnys, slow but sure avenger ; So against young Alexandros Atreus' sons the Great King sendeth, Zeus, of host and guest protector : 60 He, for bride with many a lover. Will to Danai give and Troians Many conflicts, men's limbs straining, When the knee in dust is crouching, And the spear-shaft in the onset Of the battle snaps asunder. But as things are now, so are they, So, as destined, shall the end be. Nor by tears nor yet libations Shall he soothe the wrath unbending 70 Caused by sacred rites left fireless. They are going on to soliloquize how they themselves have been shut out of the glorious expedition, for, in matters of War, old age is but a return to boyhood ; when g2 The Chorus- Procession having reached the Thymele, turn towards the Stage. Meanwhile the great Central Door of the Stage has opened, and a solemn Procession filed out on the Stage, consisting of the Queen and her Attendants, bearing torches and incense, and offerings for the Gods ; they have during the Choral Procession silently advanced to the different Statues along the front of the Palace, made offerings and commenced the sacrificial rites. When the Chorus turn towards the Stage, the whole Scene is ablaze with fires and trembling with clouds of incense, rich un- guents perfume the whole Theatre, while a solemn Religious ritual is being celebrated in dumb show. The Chorus break off their Processional Chant [keeping the same rhythm] to enquire what is the meaning of these solemn rites, and whether the Queen can solve their doubt, which wavers between hope and foreboding: The Queen signifying, by a gesture, that the Ritual must not be inter- rupted by speech, the Chorus proceed to take their regular position round the Thymele, and address themselves to their 104 PRELUDE the Music, Poetry, and Gesture-dance changing from a March to a highly Lyrical rhythm ; the evolutions oj the Dance taking Right and Left hand directions, but without the Chorus quitting their position round the Altar.* ( ♦This is a mere guess: we have no information as to how the evolutions of a Proem differed fiom those of a regular Choral Ode. Strophe : during which the evolutions take a Right Hand direction. The Chorus resume : though shut out from War their old age has still suasive power of song, and they can tell of the famous omen seen by the two kings and the whole army as they waited to embark : two eagles on the left devour- ing a pregnant hare : Sing a strain of woe But may the good prevail ! 120 Antistrophe : the same rhythm line for line as the Strophe, but the evolutions taking Left Hand direction. and the Prophet Calchas interpreted : they shall lay Troy low, only beware lest the Victors suffer from the wrath of some God, Artemis who hates the eagle : Sing a strain of woe. But may the good prevail ! 137 Epode : a different rhythm, and the evolutions without any special direction. May some Healer, Calchas added, avert her wrath, lest she send delays upon the impatient host and irritate them to some dread deed, some sacrifice of children to haunt the house for ever ! So he prophesied in piercing strains. Sing a strain of woe, But may the good prevail 154 ENTRY-ODE With a change of rhythm, the Chorus pass into their first regular Choral Ode ; Strophes and Antistrophes as in the Prelude, but the Evolutions now leading them from the central Altar to the extreme Right and Left of the Orchestra. Strophe I : Evolutions leading Chorus from Thymele to extreme Right of Orchestra. It must be Zeus — no other God will suffice — Zeus alone who shall lift from my* mind this cloud of anxiety : Antistrophe I: Evolutions the same, rhythm for rhythm, as the Strophe, but leading the Chorus back from the Right of Orches- tra to the central Altar. For on Zeus, before whom all the elder Gods gave way, they must rely who are bent on getting all the wisdom of the wise. 168 Strophe II : a change of rhythm : evolutions leading Chorus from the central Altar to the extreme Left of Orchestra. Yes : Zeus leads men to wisdom by his fixed law that pain is gain ; by instill- ing secret care in the heart, it may be in sleep, he forces the unwilling to yield to wiser thoughts : no doubt this anxiety is a gift of the Gods, whose might is irresistible. 176 Antistrophe II : same rhythm, but evolutions leading back from Left of Orchestra to central Altar. When Agamemnon, not repining, but tempering himself to the fate which smote him, waited amidst adverse winds and failing stores : 184 *The Chorus generally speak of themselves in the Singular. (\ i. . 8 r \ Strophe III : fresh change ofrhythm^ Chorus moving to Right of Orchestra. wa^ bdnno^'^nr.'''^>K ?', '^""P^S^ ?°^" ^'■^^ '^^ Strymon, and the host was being worn out with delays, and the prophet began to speak of 'one more charm against the wrath of Artemis, though a Iter one ?o the Chios' Antistrophe III: same rythm, movement back from Right of Orchestra to Altar. 195 ( at last the King spoke : great woe to disobey the prophet, great woe to slav ^L'^'^M ^'T, t'^ .1 "^"i^^'^'^ ^^^^^^ y^' ^^- 1-^e mrexprd'don. m^ allies? May all be well m the end ! ^ ^ " n Strophe IV: change of rhythm ; movements to the left of Orchestra, So when he himself had harnessed To the yoke of Fate unbending, With a blast of strange new feeling Sweeping o'er his heart and spirit, Aweless, godless and unholy. He his thoughts and purpose altered To full measure of all daring, (Still base counsel's fatal frenzy, Wretched primal source of evils. Gives to mortal hearts strange boldness,) And at last his heart be hardened His own child to slay as victim, Help in war that they were waging To avenge a woman's frailty. Victim for the good ship's safety. And wishing, — all in vain, — To speak ; for oftentimes In those her father's hospitable halls She sang, a maiden pure with chastest song, And her dear father's life That poured its threefold cup of praise to God, Crowned with all choicest good. She with a daughter's love Was wont to celebrate Antistrophe V: Back to Altar, What then ensued mine eyes Saw not, nor may I tell, but Calchas' arts Were found not fruitless. Justice turns the scale For those to whom through pain At last comes wisdom's gain. But for our future fate. Since help for it is none. Good-bye to it before it comes, and this Has the same end as wailing premature ; For with to-morrow's dawn It will come clear ; may good luck crown our fate ! So prays the one true guard, Nearest and dearest found, Of this our Apian land. EPISODE I 238 248 219 I Antistrophe IV : back to Altar, All her prayers and eager callings On the tender name of Father, All her young and maiden freshness. They but set at naught, those rulers, In their passion for the battle. And her father gave commandment To the servants of the Goddess, When the prayer was o'er, to lift her. Like a kid, above the altar, In her garments wrapt, face downwards,— Yea, to seize with all their courage. And that o'er her lips of beauty Should be set a watch to hinder Words of curse against the houses, With the gag's strength silence-working. Strophe V: Altar to Right of Orchestra, And she upon the ground Pouring rich folds of veil in saffron dyed, Cast at each one of those who sacrificed A piteous glance that pierced Fair as a pictured form, ^The Ritual on the Stage being now concluded^ Clytamnestra advances to the front. At the same moment the Choral Ode is finished and the Chorus take up their usual position during the Episodes^ drawn up in two lines in front of the Altar facing the Stage. They speak only by their Foreman {or Coryph(EUs)y and use the ordinary Iambic Metre {equivalent to our Blank Verse). The Foreman of the Chorus repeats his enquiries of Clytsemnestra as to the meaning of this sudden rejoicing, guardedly adding that it his duty to pay respect to his lord's wife in his absence — Clytcemnestra announces that Troy has been taken this last night — rapid interchange of stichomu- thic dialogue, the Chorus expressing their amazement as to how the news could travel so fast. Cho. What herald could arrive with speed like this? Clytcem. Hephaestos flashing forth bright flames from Ida : Beacon to beacon from that courier-fire Sent on its tidings ; Ida to the rock Hermaean named, in Lemnos : from the isle The height of Athos, dear to Zeus, received A third great torch of flame, and lifted up. So as on high to skim the broad sea's back, The stalwart fire rejoicing went its way ; The pine wood, like a sun, sent forth its light Of golden radiance to Makistos' watch ; And he, with no delay, nor unawares Conquered by sleep, performed his courier's part.* Far off the torch-light to Euripos' straits ' I lO Advancing, tells it to Messapion's guard : They, in their turn, lit up and passed it on. Kindling a pile of dry and aged heath. Still strong and fresh the torch, not yet grown dim, Leaping across Asopos' plain in guise Like a bright moon, towards Kithaeron's rock. Roused the next station of the courier flame. And that far-travelled light the sentries there Refused not, burning more than all yet named : And then the light swooped o'er Gorgopis' lake, And passing on to ifUgiplanctos' mount. Bade the bright fire's due order tarry not ; And they, enkindling boundless store, send on A mighty beard of flame, and then it passed The headland e'en that looks on Saron's gulf Still blazing. On it swept, until it came To Arachnaean heights, the watch-tower near ; Then here on the Atreidae's roof it swoops. This light, of Ida's fire no doubtful heir. Such is the order of my torch-race games ; One from another taking up the course. But here the winner is both first and last ; And this sure proof and token now I tell thee, Seeing that my lord hath sent it me from Troia. 307 While the Chorus are still overcome with amazement, Clytamnestra triumphs over the condition of Troy that morning : like a vessel containing oil and vinegar, the conquered, bewailing their first day of captivity over the corpses of husbands and sons, the victors enjoying their first rest free from the chill dews of night and the sentry's call —and all will be well // they remember the rights of the Gods in their sack of the city : ah ! may they not in their exultation commit some sacrilegious deed of plunder, for- getting that they have only reached the goal, and have the return to make ! If they should, the curse of those who have perished might still awake against them [CL thus darkly harping upon her secret hope that ven- geance may still overtake them for the sacrifice of her daughter]. 345 Exit Clytcemnestra^ with Attendants. After a few words of triumph {in marching rhythm), that Zeus, protector of host and guest, has visited the proud Trojans, and brought them into a net of bondage that neither young nor full-grown can overleap, the Chorus pro- ceed to a more formal expression of their feelings in 357 CHORAL INTERLUDE I breaking, as regularly in the Choral Odes, into highly Lyrical rhythms accompanied with Music and Gesture-dance, the evolutions of which lead them alternately to Right and Left of Orchestra and back to Altar. Strophe I: evolutions from Altar to Right. Yes : it is the hand of Zeus we may trace in all this ! Now what will they say who contend that the Gods care not when mortal men trample under foot the inviolable? Troy knows better now, that once relied on its abounding wealth : ah ! moderate fortune is best for the seeker after Wisdom ; Wealth is no bulwark to those who in wantonness have spumed the altar of the Right and Just. yj^ II Antistrophe I: evolutions from Right back to Altar, rhythm as in Strophe. Such a man is urged on by Impulse, offspring of Infatuation, till his mis- chief stands out clear, as worthless bronze stripped of its varnish. So Paris sees now his light-hearted crime has brought his city low. He came to the house of the Sons of Atreus, and stole a Queen away, leaving Shame where he had sat as Guest. 392 Strophe II: change of rhythm, evolutions from Altar to Left. She, leaving to her countrymen at home Wild din of spear and shield and ships of war. And bringing, as her dower. To Ilion doom of death. Passed very swiftly through the palace gates. Daring what none should dare ; And many a wailing cry They raised, the minstrel prophets of the house, " Woe for that kingly home I Woe for that kingly home and for its chiefs ! Woe for the marriage-bed and traces left Of wife who loved her lord ! " There stands he silent ; foully wronged and yet Uttering no word of scorn. In deepest woe perceiving she is gone j And in his yearning love For one beyond the sea, A ghost shall seem to queen it o'er the house ; The grace of sculptured forms Is loathed by her lord. And in the penury of life's bright eyes All Aphrodite's charm To utter wreck has gone. 409 Antistrophe II: back to Altar. And phantom shades that hover round in dreams Come full of sorrow, bringing vain delight ; For vain it is, when one Sees seeming shows of good, And gliding through his hands the dream is gone. After a moment's space. On wings that follow still Upon the path where sleep goes to and fro. Such are the woes at home Upon the altar hearth, and worse than these. But on a wider scale for those who went From Hellas' ancient shore, A sore distress that causeth pain of heart Is seen in every house. Yea, many things there are that touch the quick : For those whom each did send He knoweth ; but, instead Of living men, there come to each man's home Funereal urns alone. And ashes of the dead. 425 12 Strophe III: change of rhythm^ evolutions from Altar to Right. War IS a trafficker; in the rush of battle he holds scales, and for the golden coin you spend on him he sends you back lifeless shapes of men ; they sent out men, the loving friends receive back well smoothed ashes from the funeral pyre. They sing the heroic fall of some — all for another's wife ; and some murmur discontent against the sons of Atreus, and some have won a grave in the land they have conquered. 441 Antistrophe III: evolutions repeated^ but from Right back to Altar. So sullen discontent has been doing the work of a people's curse : therefore it is that I am awaiting with dim forebodings the full news. The Gods do not forget those who have shed much blood, and sooner or later the dark- robed Deities of the Curse consign the evil-doer to impassable, hopeless gloom. Away with the dazzling success that attracts the thunderbolt ! be mine the moderate lot that neither causes nor suffers captivity. 458 Epode: change of rhythm and Chorus not moving from the Altar. The courier flame has brought good news — but who knows whether it be true ? — Yet it is childish when the heart is all aglow with the message of the flame to be turned round by everchanging rumour. — Yet it is the nature of a woman to believe too soon. [Observe how the Chorus, setting out on an ode of triumph, have come back to their persistent forebodings.] 471 Suddenly at the Side-door on the extreme Left of the Stage {signifying distance) appears a Herald^ covered with dust^ crowned with olive in token of victory. The Chorus immediately fall into their Episode position to receive him^ the Eoreman expressing their anticipations as the Herald traverses the long stage to the point opposite the Chorus, EPISODE II Foreman of Chorus. Now we shall have a clearer message than that of the beacon-fires : all is well or . . . but I cannot put the other alterna- tive. The Herald {arrived opposite the Chorus) solemnly salutes the land of Argos he had never hoped to see again, salutes the several Gods whose statues are now bright with the morning sun, especially Apollo who has proved himself a Healer, and Hermes patron of Heralds; and then an- nounces Agamemnon is close at hand, victorious over Troy and having sent Paris to his merited punishment. — Observe how in the parallel dialogue that follows the foreboding tone creeps in again in the midst of the news of \ triumph. Chor. Joy, joy, thou herald of the Achaean host ! Her. All joy is mine : I shrink from death no more. Chor. Did love for this thy fatherland so try thee ? Her. So that mine eyes weep tears for very joy. Chor. Disease full sweet then this ye suffered from . . . Her. How so ? When taught, I shall thy meaning master. Chor. Ye longed for us who yearned for you in turn. Her. Say'st thou this land its yearning host yearned o'er ? Chor. Yea, so that oft I groaned in gloom of heart. Her. Whence came these bodings that an army hates ? Chor. Silence I've held long since a charm for ill. Her. How, when your lords were absent, feared ye any ? Chor. To use thy words, death now would welcome be. 520 533 \ 13 The Herald, not understanding the source of the Chorus' misgiving, goes on to say of course their success is mixed : so fare all but the Gods. They have had their tossings on the sea, their exposure to the night dews till their hair is shaggy as beasts' : but why remember these now ? our toil is past — so^e suddenly recollects^is that of the dead they have left behind — but he will shake off these feelings : Troy is captured. The Chorus feel youthful with such happy tidings. 569 Enter Clytcemnestra from the Palace. Clyt. Now they will believe me, who were saying just now that women believed too soon. What joy for a wife equal to that of a husband's return ? and I have kept my trust as stainless as bronze. \^Exit into Palace.^ The Foreman goes on to enquire as to Menelaus : the Herald would fain not answer, and brings out the Greek dread of mingling bad news with good — at last he is forced to acknowledge Menelaus has disappeared, his ship sun- dered from the fleet by a terrible storm in which They a compact swore who erst were foes, Ocean and Fire, 634 and the sea * blossomed with wrecks of ships and dead Achaeans : * the fleet itself barely escaped. [Thus : foreboding indirectly assisted by its appear- ing that one of the two sons of Atreus has already been overtaken by Neme- sis.] 663 CHORAL INTERLUDE II [PositionSy etc., as before."} Strophe I: to the Right. Who could foresee so well and give her the name Helen — a Helff^ to men and ships and towers ? She came out of bowers of gorgeous curtains, she sailed with breezes soft as Zephyrs yet strong as Titans, and unseen reached the leafy banks of the Simois ; but bloodshed was in her train, and on her track followed hosts of hunters that carried shields. 680 Antistrophe I: back to Altar. So there is a wrath that works vengeance after long waiting : to the Ilion that received her she was a dear bride : then there was a shout of * Paris, Paris,' in the Bridal Song : now his city has celebrated a Wedding of Death, and called on Paris' name in other tones. 695 Strophe II: Altar to Left. So once a lion's cub, A mischief in his house. As foster child one reared, While still it loved the teats ; In life's preluding dawn Tame, by the children loved, And fondled by the old. Oft in his arms 'twas held. Like infant newly bom. With eyes that brightened to the hand that stroked. And fawning at the best of hunger keen. 704 * This is simply an Engilsh pun substituted for a Greek one : the name Helen resembles a Creek root which signifies captivity. :v / ! { I } t 1' 1 14 Antistrophe II: back to Altar. But when full-grown, it showed The nature of its sires ; For it unbidden made A feast in recompense Of all their fostering care. By banquet of slain sheep ; With blood the house was stained, A curse no slaves could check, Great mischief murderous : By God's decree a priest of Ate thus Was reared, and grew within the man's own house. 715 Strophe III : Altar to Right. So I would tell that thus to Ilion came Mood as of calm when all the air is still. The gentle pride and joy of kingly state, A tender glance of eye. The full-blown blossom of a passionate love. Thrilling the very soul ; And yet she turned aside, And wrought a bitter end of marriage feast. Coming to Priam's race, 111 sojourner, ill friend, Sent by great Zeus, the God of host and guest — Erinnys, for whom wives weep many tears. 726 Antistrophe III : back to Altar. The time-honored saying is that Prosperity grown big will not die childless, its offspring will be a Woe insatiable. I say no, it is not the Prosperity, it is an Impious deed that breeds Impious deeds like the parent stock. 737 Strophe IV : from Altar to Left. Recklessness begets Recklessness, this begets full-flushed Lust and Godfor- getting Daring, two black curses to a household. 746 Antistrophe IV : back to Altar. Justice will dwell in houses blackened with smoke where life is ruled by law, but averts her eyes from gold-decked mansions conjoined with hands defiled : and it is this Justice that is directing the course of things to its appointed goal. 755 At this pointy a grand Procession of the returning Warriors from Troy enters Stage and Orchestra by the Left Side-Door [signifying distance^ : Agamemnon in his charioty followed in another chariot by Cassandra as captive^ but still in the garb of prophetess : then a train of Soldiers laden with trophies and leading a train of Troian captive women. The Chorus fcUl into their Episode position to receive them. EPISODE III Chorus [in marching rhythm as the Procession traverses the long Stage.) Son of Atreus, how are we to hit upon welcome that shall be fit for thee, not missing or overshooting the mark ? In both condolence and congratulation men's faces often belie their hearts ; thou who knowest thine own sheep, should'st be able to tell kindness from flattery. We confess, when thou wentest forth on thy expedition, thou wast to us like a face limned by an unskilled artist, in the deed thou did'st to inspire false courage. Now, without a ^Pl is well that eims^wt "of thee in thy absence. [Obse^ jetre \u7.w settling into ordinal h by whose help we haveiaid fro^ „.., _ r^p clouds of smoke as sweet incense to the Deities of Ven /our sentiments, both then and now, I approve; prosperity \% true sympathy amidst the envy it excites; envy that has the _ n missmg its own and seeing another's good. Experience has irr^rr. ."^tt, ^ difference between professing and true friends : my unwilling icom.ade Ulysses alone proved true to me. As to the state we will deliberate Icrprv ^/^""^^^ ^^ *° w^^t ^^eds preserving, and where disease calls for sur- Igery. At present I must give thanks at my own hearth for my safe return. iHere the Central Door of the Stage is thrown open, and enter Clytcem- I nestra to welcome her lord, followed by attendants bearing rich draperies ( of purple and dazzling colors. 827 plyt. Notwithstanding your presence. Senators of Argos, I must pour out V^y heart to my lord. Ah ! a sad thing is a wife waiting at home for her |aj5sent husband ! hearing of wounds, which if true would have made you a ■l-iddled net, of deaths enough for a three-lived Geryon : again and again I ^lave been stopped with the noose already on my neck ! This is the reason vhy you see not your son Orestes : wonder not, he is being brought up by in ally to whom I sent him, lest danger befall us. I cannot weep : my tears lave run dry by my weepings and sleepless watchings for the beacon. Now it ease I hail my lord as watch-dog of the fold, The stay that saves the ship, of lofty roof 870 Main column-prop, a father's only child. Land that beyond all hope the sailor sees. Mom of great brightness following after storm. Clear-flowing fount to thirsty traveller. "^e bare ground is not fit for the foot that has trampled on Ilion : strew Attendants) tapestry on the floor as the Conqueror steps from his car. f Attendants commence to lay down the draperies : Agamemnon {hastening top them) rebukes Clytaemnestra for the excessive tone of her welcome, 1 bids her not make him offensive to the Gods, by assuming an honor [or the Gods alone, no man being safe in prosperity till he has died ; fame, ' foot-mats, and never to lose the path of Wisdom, are his glories. A con- st ensues [the false Clytaemnestra anxious to entangle him in an act of In- flation]; at last he yields, but removes the shoe from his foot, to avert the Jmen of such presumptuous display. He then commends the captive Cas- ^ra to the Queen's kind treatment, and Clyt. renews her lofty expressions there is store of purple in the palace, and many such robes would she %o welcome his return, the root of the household bringing warmth in land coolness in the dog-days. Ah ! may Zeus work out for me " all [\^ ish for." [So Exeunt : Ag. walking barefoot on the rich tapestry, ira alone remains on the Stage in her chariot.] 949 >RAL INTERLUDE III ,/.• to the Right. \ gate of our hearts, and we lack steadfast It is not long since that fatal starting for 959 Antistrophe I : back to ^e seen with our own eyes the sa. tg^ithin itself a dirg^^if fate m sencTlhey ^iroye false oracles! Strophe II: to the Left. When Wealth o'erflows. Restlessness, as a near neighbor w! between, presses it on with perpetual desire for more, till Prospe! suddenly on an unseen rock — ^yet even then, by sacrificing a portion ol cargo, the rest may be saved; so by plenteous harvests sent from Zeus, hunj ger and pestilence may be allayed : ; 9g( Antistrophe II : back to Altar. \ but when blood has once been poured upon the ground, what charm\ cai bring it back ? Zeus struck dead the Healer who found how to restore life] I would give my misgiving relief in pouring out words of warning : bit know that fate is certain and can never be escaped ; so I am plunged ii gloom, with little hope ever to unravel my soul that bums with its Bioj thoughts. looj EXODUS, OR FINALE Re-enter Clytcemnestra to fetch Cassandra. Clyt. addresses Cassandra ii moderate tone, bidding her adapt herself to her new life and yield to thos who wish to soften her captivity. \Cassandra pays no attention and seem] gazing into vacancy.] The Chorus endorses Clytaemnestra's advice. a( length it occurs to Clytaemnestra that Cassandra cannot speak Greek, and sh< bids her give some sign. [No sign, but a shudder convulses her frame.' Thinking she is obstinate Clytaemnestra will wait no longer [exit Clyt. int Palace to the sacrifice^ The Chorus renew their advice to Cassandra! She at length leaves the chariot and suddenly bursts into a cry of horror. 103} Then follows, marking the crisis of the drama, a burst of lyrical excitemenf The dialogue between Chorus and Cassandra falls into lyrical strophes antistrophes ; Cassandra, by her prophetic gift, can see all that is going on about to be consummated within the Palace. Her wailings reproach; patron and lover Apollo, who has conducted her to a house of blood ;| sees the past murders that have stained the house, she sees the preparat] for the present deed, the bath, the net, the axe; then her wailings waxf wilder as she sees that she herself is to be included in the sacrifice. M'^ time her excitement gradually passes over to the Chorus : at first they ' mistaken her cries for the ordinary lamentations of captives (and borne part in the dialogue in the ordinary ' blank verse') ; then their emotionj roused (and their speech falls into lyrics) as they re'cognize the old the family history and remember Cassandra's prophetic fame ; as si to the deed going on at the moment they feel a thrill of horror, but or] understand and take her words for prophecy of distant events, whi< connect with their own forebodings ; thus in her struggles to get hei believed Cassandra becomes more and more graphic in her notices scene her mental eye is seeing, and the excitement crescendoes until As if the crisis were now determined^jMBW||logue settle into 'blank verse' again. Cassandra jf^^^^^^^^rchestra Slie will no longer speiJc veiled prophec^^^^^^^^^^ftk wa.^ the sunlight She begins with the since that |nimal woe that defile GUnu wonder an lUen cmn know the 17 its them know of her amour with Apollo, and how she gained the gift of rophecy and then deceived the God and was doomed to have her prophecies Eomed. — Continuing her vision she points to the phantom children, * their alms filled full with meat of their own flesh,' sitting on the house : in re- enge for that deed another crime is this moment about to stain further ae polluted dwelling, a brave hero falling at the hands of a coward, and y a plot his monster of a wife has contrived. — The Chorus still perplexed, Zassandra NAMES Agamemnon, the Chorus essaying vainly to stop the ill- ated utterance. — Then Cassandra goes on to describe how she herself must )e sacrificed with her new lord, a victim to the jealous murderess ; bitterly eproaching Apollo, she strips from her the symbols and garb of her pro- phetic art, which the god has made so bitter to her, and moves to the ' butcher's block,' foretelling how the Son shall come as his father's avenger and hers. — The Chorus ask, why go to meet your fate instead of escaping ? Cassandra knows Fate is inevitable. — Again and again she shrinks back from the door, * tainted with the scent of death ;' then gazing for the last time on the loved rays of the Sun, and invoking him as witness and avenger, she abandons herself to her doom. Ah, life of man 1 when most it prospereth, 1298 It is but limned in outline ; and when brought To low estate, then doth the sponge, full soaked, Wipe out the picture with its frequent touch. [Passes through the Central Door into Palace."] The Chorus (in lyrical rhythm). . It is true good fortune can never be fended from the visitation of evil, which no strong palace can bar out. What will it avail Agamemnon to have taken Troy and come in honor home, if it be really his destiny to pay the penalty of that old deed of blood- guiltiness ? 13 1 3 {Here a laud cry is heard from within the Palace.) The Chorus recognize the voice of the King, and fear the deed is accom* plished. In extreme excitement the Chorus break up, and each member, one after another, suggests what is to be done ; at last they compose their ranks to learn what has actually occurred. 1342 Suddenly, by the machinery of the Roller-stage [Eccyclema], the interior of the Palace is moved to the front of the Stage, and discovers Clytcemnestra in blood-stained robes, standing with attendants by the corpses of Agamemnon and Cassandra, the former lying in a silvered bath covered with a net. Clytcemnestra, in an elaborate speech, glories in her deed. Deceit was necessary in dealing vrith foes : now standing where she did the deed, she glories in it: glories in the net in which she entangled and rendered him powerless, in the blows, one, two, three, like a libation, which she struck, glories in the gush of death-blood which has bespattered her. A late triumph : he had come home to drain the goblet of curses his old deed had been long heaping up. After an interruption of astonishment from the Foreman, she repeats : it is the handiwork of my artist hand. After the Chorus have recovered from their astonishment they {in a lyrical burst) de- nounce her : her confession is the incense on the Victim's head, she shall feel the people's strong hate, and have an exile's doom. Oyt. {calmly in Blank Verse) : they denounced no such exile against Agamemnon when he sacrificed her daughter, the first of her travail pangs. Besides, are they sure they are the stronger ? Perchance, though old, they may yet have to leam. Chorus {in a similar lyrical burst) : she is now maddened with the spirit of vengeance, but she will one day find a nemcaK, blow fm 17 Antistrophe I : hack to 5e seen with our own eyes the saft^l_ tt^^ithin itself a dirge^ fatJ^ ^ bn senHTftey^iEaye /alse oracles ! Strophe II: to the Left, When Wealth o'erflows, Restlessness, as a near neighbor w 1 between, presses it on with perpetual desire for more, till Prospe^^ suddenly on an unseen rock — ^yet even then, by sacrificing a portion of cargo, the rest may be saved ; so by plenteous harvests sent from Zeus, hunj ger and pestilence may be allayed : 98( Antistrophe II : back to Altar. but when blood has once been poured upon the ground, what charm cai bring it back ? Zeus struck dead the Healer who found how to restore lifej I would give my misgiving relief in pouring out words of warning : but know that fate is certain and can never be escaped ; so I am plunged ii gloom, with little hope ever to unravel my soul that bums with its ho]| tiioughts. loc: EXODUS, OR FINALE Re-enter Clytcemnestra to fetch Cassandra. Clyt. addresses Cassandra ii moderate tone, bidding her adapt herself to her new life and yield to thos^ who wish to soften her captivity. [Cassandra pays no attention and seemi gazing into vacancy.^ The Chorus endorses Clytaemnestra's advice. A{ length it occurs to Clytaemnestra that Cassandra cannot speak Greek, and she bids her give some sign. [No sign^ but a shudder convulses her fra?ne. Thinking she is obstinate Clytaemnestra will wait no longer [exit Clyt. inti Palace to the sacrifice^ The Chorus renew their advice to Cassandraj She at length leaves the chariot and suddenly bursts into a cry of horror. 103] Then follows, marking the crisis of the drama, a burst of lyrical exeitemenf The dialogue between Chorus and Cassandra falls into lyrical strophes antistrophes : Cassandra, by her prophetic gift, can see all that is going on about to be consummated within the Palace. Her wailings reproach] patron and lover Apollo, who has conducted her to a house of blood ;| sees the past murders that have stained the house, she sees the preparati for the present deed, the bath, the net, the axe ; then her wailings wax | wilder as she sees that she herself is to be included in the sacrifice. M'^' time her excitement gradually passes over to the Chorus : at first they * mistaken her cries for the ordinary lamentations of captives (and borne part in the dialogue in the ordinary * blank verse') ; then their emotionj roused (and their speech falls into lyrics) as they recognize the old the family history and remember Cassandra's prophetic fame ; as si to the deed going on at the moment they feel a thrill of horror, but or] understand and take her words for prophecy of distant events, whi< connect with their own forebodings ; thus in her struggles to get hei believed Cassandra becomes more and more graphic in her notices] scene her mental eye is seeing, and the excitement crescendoes until As if the crisis were now determined^jtfBM||logue settle^J into 'blank verse' again. Cassandra i^^^^^^^^Qrchestra She will no longer speak veiled prophec^^^^^^^^^^^^lk wa-' the sunlight. She begins with the since that primal woe that defilec Chorus wonder an alien can know the its them know of her amour with Apollo, and how she gained the gift of tophecy and then deceived the God and was doomed to have her prophecies lomed.— Continuing her vision she points to the phantom children, * their lalms filled full with meat of their own flesh,' sitting on the house : in re- enge for that deed another crime is this moment about to stain further le polluted dwelling, a brave hero falling at the hands of a coward, and Jy a plot his monster of a wife has contrived. — The Chorus still perplexed, yassandra names Agamemnon, the Chorus essaying vainly to stop the ill- ated utterance. — Then Cassandra goes on to describe how she herself must be sacrificed with her new lord, a victim to the jealous murderess ; bitterly leproaching Apollo, she strips from her the symbols and garb of her pro- 3hetic art, which the god has made so bitter to her, and moves to the butcher's block,' foretelling how the Son shall come as his father's avenger ind hers. — The Chorus ask, why go to meet your fate instead of escaping ? ^assandra knows Fate is inevitable.— Again and again she shrinks back from the door, * tainted with the scent of death;' then gazing for the last Itime on the loved rays of the Sun, and invoking him as witness and avenger, She abandons herself to her doom. Ah, life of man 1 when most it prospereth, 1298 It is but limned in outline ; and when brought To low estate, then doth the sponge, full soaked, Wipe out the picture with its frequent touch. [Passes through the Central Door into Palace.'\ The Chorus {in lyrical rhythm). , It is true good fortune can never be 'fended from the visitation of evil, which no strong palace can bar out. What will it avail Agamemnon to have taken Troy and come in honor home, if it be really his destiny to pay the penalty of that old deed of blood- guiltiness ? 131 J (Here a loud cry is heard from within the Palace^ The Chorus recognize the voice of the King, and fear the deed is accom- plished. In extreme excitement the Chorus break up, and each member, one after another, suggests what is to be done ; at last they compose their ranks to learn what has actually occurred. 1342 Suddenly, by the machinery of the Roller-stage [Eccyclema\ the interior of the Palace is moved to the front of the Stage, and discovers Clytaemnestra in blood-stained robes, standing with attendants by the corpses of Agamemnon and Cassandra, the former lying in a silvered bath covered with a net. Clytcemnestra, in an elaborate speech, glories in her deed. Deceit was necessary in dealing with foes : now standing where she did the deed, she glories in it: glories in the net in which she entangled and rendered him powerless, in the blows, one, two, three, like a libation, which she struck, glories in the gush of death-blood which has bespattered her. A late triumph : he had come home to drain the goblet of curses his old deed had been long heaping up. After an interruption of astonishment from the Foreman, she repeats : it is the handiwork of my artist hand. After the Chorus have recovered from their astonishment they {in a lyrical burst) de- nounce her: her confession is the incense on the Victim's head, she shall feel the people's strong hate, and have an exile's doom. Clyt. {calmly in Blank Verse) : they denounced no such exile against Agamemnon when he sacrificed her daughter, the first of her travail pangs. Besides, are they sure they are the stronger ? Perchance, though old, they may yet have to learn. Chorus {in a similar lyrical burst) : she is now maddened with the spirit of vengeance, but she will one day find a nemesis, blow for / i8 blow. Clyt. solemnly {in Blank Verse) swears by the deed she has doi and the curse for which she did it, she has no fear of Nemesis, as long] iEgisthus is her shield. Meanwhile, there they lie : the wife-wronger -■ his mistress. ^' Then follows an elaborate lyrical scene : the Chorus giving vent to th] excitement in Strophes and Antistrophes irregularly succeeding one anoth\ Clytcemnestra occasionally joining in. O for death, sudden and withd lingering, now that our beloved Protector is gone ! Ah ! Helen ! one moj deed of woe to your account ! Clyt. No need to wish for death or upbraj Helen. Cho. (interrupting) O dread Power that dost attack this householj working even through women deeds of dread ! Clyt. Now thou art righl it is the Evil Genius of the House that feeds in their hearts the lust of blooc' bringing fresh blood-guilt ere the old is healed. Cho. Yes, there is Power wrathful to the House ; but it must be through Zeus he works ; wh^ amongst mortal men is wrought apart from Zeus ? Ah me ! Ah me ! 14^1 My king, my king, how shall I weep for thee ? What shall I speak from heart that truly loves ? And now thou liest there, breathing out thy life. In impious deed of death. In this fell spider's web ! Yes woe is me ! woe, woe ! "Woe for this couch of thine unhonorable ! Slain by a subtle death With sword two-edged, which her right hand did wield. Clyt. You speak of me as the doer : it was the Avenger of the seed o\ Atreus who did the deed in the semblance of this dead man's wife. Cho. None will hold thee guiltless of the deed ; yet, perchance, thou mayest hav< had as helper the avenging Fiend of that ancestral time : he presses on thij rush of murders of near kin. Ah me ! Ah me I I492< My king, my king, how shall I weep for thee ? What shall I speak from heart that truly loves ? And now thou liest there, breathing out thy life, In impious deed of death. In this fell spider's web ! Yes woe is me ! woe, woe ! Woe for this couch of thine unhonorable I Slain by a subtle death With sword two-edged, which her right hand did wield. Clyt. This deed brings no dishonor to me : he slew my daughter and his own, wept over with many a tear; now slain in recompense he is gone to Hell with nothing to boast over. Cho. Whither escape from this House ? no longer drops, but fierce pelting storm of blood shakes it to its basement. Cho. Oh that earth had received me ere I saw this sad sight I Who will perform funeral rites and chant the dirge? Wilt thou who hast slain dare to mourn him }—Clyt. It is no care of thine : we will give him burial ; and for mourning— perhaps Iphigenia will greet him kindly by the dark streams below.— C^o. Hard it is to judge ; the hand of Zeus is in all this; ever throughout this household we see the fixed law, the spoiler still is spoiled. Who will drive out from this royal house this brood of curses dark ? Clyt. Thou art right ; but here let the demon rest content; suffice it for me that my hand has freed the house from the madness that sets each man's hand against each. [Observe : in this last infatuated confi- >> / 19 dence and throughout Clytaemnestra's exultation in the deed the dramatist is laying the foundation for the second play of the Trilogy.] 1554 Enter ^gisthus by one of the two Inferior doors in front of the scent [representing the inferior parts of the Palace in which he has been concealed since the return of Agamemnon]. yEgisthus salutes the happy day of vengeance which shows him Agamem- non paying penalty for the deeds of his father : he relates the quarrel between this father Atreus and his own father Thyestes, how when the one brother came as suppliant to the other Atreus spread before him the horrid banquet of his own child's flesh, at the knowledge of which he died. i/Egisthus himself had suffered banishment at the hands of Atreus while yet a child, and now has returned full grown to work vengeance on the son of his wronger, to see the long contrived nemesis brought to full conclu- slion. — Chorus note that he confesses the deed, and he shall not escape the righteous curse a people hurls with stones. — ^g. Know your place: you £tre oarsman, we command the ship ; prison and fasting are admirable de- Vices for helping old people to keep their tempers within bounds. Defiances are interchanged : the Chorus taunting him that he had to get a woman to do the deed he dared not do himself; ^g. contemptuously says the work- ing out ui the fraud was the proper province of a woman, especially as he was a 'mown foe. — The Chorus threaten vengeance and suggest the name * xESTES as avenger: At this Clytaemnestra starts, ^gisthus enraged I, ves the signal at which 1626 ' Bodyguard of/Egisthus pour in through both the Inferior doors on either side of the Central door of the Palace^ and fill the stage [thus producing one of the Scenic Tableaux of which j^schylus was fond]. The Chorus ^ though of course outnumbered^ are nothing daunted^ as representing the legitimate authority of the State now Agamemnon is dead^ and therefore sure to be backed by the City; they make as if to ascend the stage. Contest in blows between Chorus and Bodyguard of itgisthus appears in- evitable, but Clytaemnestra throws herself between them, urges that enough i!ll has already been done, and after further defiances, forces /Egisthus away Und play abruptly terminates : the Chorus returning to the Right into the Cify, and the Bodyguard into the Palace, ] ..y SECOND PLAY : MID - DAY : THE SEPULCHRAL RITES {CHOEPHORI) PROLOGUE The Permanent Scene, as before, represents the Palace of Agamemnon 1 1 Argos. The only difference is that the place of the Thymele in the centiu of the Orchestra is taken up by Agamemnon's Sepulchre. Enter by tt^e Left Side-door {signifying distance) Orestes and Pylades, and descending the Orchestra-staircase advance to the Sepulchre. Orestes, invoking the Conductor of the Dead, lays locks of hair and frag- ments of garments as offerings on his Father's tomb, cut off ac be had been by exile from being present at the actual Funeral-rites : He is interrupted by the opening of one of the Inferior Doors of the j. -^ out of which comes Electra and a train of Trojan Captive-maidens t ing urns of libations, all with dishevelled hair and the well-known gi ures proper to Sepulchral rites. They descend {with the exception of Eler.- tra) the Orchestra-staircase, and perform a Choral Ode with funeral rhythm and gestures. Orestes and Pylades, recognizing them, stand aside. ^9 SEPULCHRAL ODE AS CHORUS-ENTRY in three Strophes, Antistrophes, and an Epode, \ describes in words the tearings of cheeks, rending of garments, and groan$, which are actually the gestures of their dance, and are proper to a Sepul- chral rite such as they have been sent to perform by their Queen, terrified as she has been by a dream the night before, a dream signifying how the Dead were wroth with those that slew them. But the Chorus like not this grace- less deed of grace : what ransom can be found for the overthrow of the lord of a house ? with him Awe has been overthrown, and Fear takes its place, or yet more Success is God. 53 Yet stroke of Vengeance swift Smites some in life's clear day ; For some who tarry long their sorrows wait In twilight dim, on darkness' borderland ; And some an endless night Of nothingness holds fast. Yes : for blood once spilt, for the marriage tie defiled, there is no remedy— yet the Chorus must, as part of their bitter captive lot, perform the rite they have no heart in. 75 Through this Ode Electra, who ought to have taken the lead, has stood on the stage irresolute : she now addresses the Chorus, who at her word fall into their Episode positions. \ I \ 21 EPISODE I Electra puts to the Chorus the same difficulty they have been feeling : What shall I say as these funereal gifts I pour ? How shall I speak acceptably ? How to my father pray ? What ? shall I say " I bring from loving wife to husband loved Gifts " — from my mother ? No, I am not bold Enough for that, nor know I what to speak, Pouring this chrism on my father's tomb : Or shall I say this prayer, as men are wont, " Good recompense make thou to those who bring These garlands," yea, a gift full well deserved By deeds of ill ? Or dumb, with ignominy Like that with which he perished, shall I pour Libations on the earth, and like a man That flings away the lustral filth, shall I Throw down the urn and walk with eyes not turned ? 97 The Chorus-Leader breaking ranks to lay her hand on the Sepulchre as sign of fidelity, advises to throw off all disguise and pray boldly for friend and against foes. Electra in this sense offers the Prayer: setting forth the wrongs of the house and praying for Orestes and Vengeance ; then calling on the Chorus for a Sepulchral Song she descends to the tomb. 144 Sepulchral Paan of short Strophe and Antistrophe : for these libations* sake may the curse be averted — yet who strong enough to come as Averter : while Electra is pouring the libations on the tomb, 157 Electra returns to Stage, her whole manner changed : as if the prayer had already begun to be fulfilled, she has found the mysterious locks which, she bit by bit lets out, must be those of Orestes— M^ Chorus, like sailors in a storm, can only invoke the gods : if the day has come, from a small seed a mighty trunk may grow — Electra then discovers foot-prints {as if leading from the Side Stage-door to the Orchestra-staircase"] of two travelers ; one foot-print agrees with her brother's : 203 Orestes and Pylades come forward : recognition and joy, Electra hardly believing. She addresses him by four- fold name : as father dear. The love I owe my mother turns to thee, My sister's too that ruthlessly was slain. And thou wast ever faithful brother found. Orestes compares his family to an eagle's brood orphaned by the spoiler. Electra catching at the omen of eagle, dear bird of Zeus who will avenge his own — Chorus are afraid that their noisy joy may be overheard and ruin all — Orestes has no fear of ruin after the strong oracles of Apollo that bade him come under terrible penalties if he disobeyed : 261 Leprous sores tliat creep All o'er the flesh, and as with cruel jaws Eat out its ancient nature, and white hairs On that foul ill to supervene : and still He spake of other onsets of the Erinnyes, As brought to issue from a father's blood ; ^ For the dark weapon of the Gods below Winged by our kindred that lie low in death. And beg for vengeance, yea, and madness too, I And vague, dim fears at night disturb and haunt me, f 22 Seeing full clearly, though I move my brow In the tliick darkness .... and that then my frame Thus tortured should be driven from the city With brass-knobbed scourge : and that for such as I It was not given to share the wine-cup's taste. Nor votive stream in pure libation poured ; And that my father's wrath invisible Would drive me from all altars, and that none Should take me in or lodge with me : at last. That loathed of all and friendless I should die, A wretched mummy, all my strength consumed. Must I not trust such oracles as these ? 297 The Chorus^ breaking into lyrics^ feel that Justice has at last taken their side : then follows an elaborate KOMMOS OR LYRIC CONCERTO by Orestes y Electra and Chorus ^ in highly intricate and interwoven Strophes and Antistrophes, with funereal gesture. The jaws of flame do not reduce the corpse to senselessness; they can hear below this our Rite and will send answer — what a fate was Agamemnon's, not that of the warrior who dies leaving high fame at home and laying strong and sure his children's paths in life, but to be struck down by hia own kin ! But there is a sense of Vengeance being at hand, Erinnys and the Curses of the slain ; they make the heart quiver : the Dir^e cres- cendoes till it breaks into the * Arian rhythm^ a foreign funeral rhythm with violent gestures {proper to the Chorus as Asiatics); and so as a climax breaks up into two semi-choruses : one sings of woCy thf other of vengeance^ and then the formal Dirge terminates and the Blank verse recommences. 469 In a composed frame (and in Blank Verse) Orestes and Electra repeat the distinct prayer for Vengeance and the death of A^gisthut and then addrcM themselves to the means. Orestes enquires an to the manning of the Sepul- chral-rites, and the dream is narrated, which he interprets as good omen. \ Orest. And have ye learnt the dream, to tell it right ? Chor. As she doth say, she thought she bare a snake. Orest. How ends the tale, and what its outcome then ? Ch&r. She nursed it, like a child, in swaddling clothes. Orest, What food did the young monster crave for then ? Char, She in her dream her bosom gave to it. Orest, How 'scaped her breast by that dread bca*t unhurt ? Chor. Nay, with the milk it sucked out clots of blood. Orest. Ah, not in vain comes this dream from her lord. Chor. She, roused from sleep, cries out uU tcrriHcd, And many torches that were quenched in gloom Blazed for our Mistress' sake witliin the house. Then these libations for the dead she sends. Hoping they'll prove good medicine of ills. Orest. Now to earth here, and my sire's tomb I pray, They leave not this strange vision unfultilled. So I expound it that it all coheres ; For if, the self-same spot that I left leaving. The snake was then wrapt in my swaddling clothes, And sucked the very breast that nourlMhrd mc, Aa4 ott^d the iv^t milk v»ith a dot ci t«>>xi» 5'7 23 And she in terror wailed the strange event. So must she, as that monster dread she nourished, Die cruel death : and I, thus serpentised. Am here to slay her, as this dream portends ; I take thee as mydream-mterprcter. They rapidly arrange their plan to appear as Foreigners, and get admission to the Palace, or, if yEgisthus come out, strike him down at once—with a prayer to Apollo exeunt Electra^ Orestes^ and Pylades by the Distance Side- door, 575 CHORAL INTERLUDE I in four Strophes and Antistrophes. Monsters and woes are many, but most terrible of all is a passion-driven woman : Thestias, who burnt out the mystic brand that measured her son's Ufe; Scylla, who robbed her father of his life-charm; another — but the woman who slew her warrior-chief it is meet for me to pass over in silence. Then there is the great Lemnian Crime, foremost of all crimes : yet this might well be compared to it ; and as that race perished, so is judgment at hand here ; the anvil-block of Vengeance firm is set, and Fate is swordsmith hammering ; in due time the debt of guilt is paid. 639 EPISODE II Enter by (hf Dixfan/t Sidt ximr Ortites, P^fiodi$» ond aUendantr, and advance to the Central JSbttT. Orestes calls loudly for » l»U»i oa^ lelUttg the slave vho opens tb&t h« is » traveller, and muxl wcukge to those witbm rrc mglA fall*; iomltdy if a lady rules, though a kffd is seemlier. Enter CfytamMejtrv, wiio gives » formal offer of hospitality (havii^MCkedhis irTe\'ere«l loo«K »»«* '^ whftia he bluffly givcH a mes&iJte trom n fellow tnn^llrr^ who le^irning he was bound for Argos, beggjed him to »««k out Orestes* kisomen 9aA ^ive tlw newK of his death. Cfy^if9tnt$/ria nflects a borrt ol gMi the em«e h*s taken another victim as he wis di it1i Pi;ling bssiNcIf from the net. Ortsfrs regrets he cannot hope kur the wrJcrtmc ol those who bc«r good newt« Clyttrmnextra (with a dial feeling of sospicicn) «nur(» Wm he »hall want for nothing 'that is fitting/ orders Ort^te* to l>r kd oobc way, and the rest an- other, and goes to cxil .-K^jMhus 'and friexds.* Extunt Ciy^'^v^nairm kj /.fft Inferior Door to the IViX^m's Ouarferr^ OretUt and PtrUr ikrtttgk Cen- tral and Pylades, «tc,,thr;sugk Right Inferior Dmr. Ck&ruu in mitrfkini: rhythm, catch the touch ol suspense, ojui invoke Hermes sad the Spirit cA PcrHuaMion for Orestes. 7^0 Enter from Women^t QuarUrs, CUtiiM, Orestes' NorKi bsdkka to »cx>ks like one XDCsning ti> cook wmtt IH. She is in tears at the death of hfr Ixiy, stxS details all the p*tty €«l«S ibe bad over his helpless infancy, and how they are now allpcofitlcs». Chor. And how ef|iU|ipffU then doib she bid him come? JS3 Nurse, How? Spe^ mAn that I may belter leasn. Chor. liy spearmen fowyvred^ cc himsell alone? Nurse, She bidtt hi» bring hts gviifds with lances armed. Chor, Nay, say not tbu to hiei thr kmi doth hute. But bid him ' ooom sloae,* (thet so he bear Without olonnX 'full speed, with joyoas mind,' Since * seciet moch ^-ith aesKuger goes bcSL' Nurse, And art thou ol good eheer at this iit tale? Chor, But what if Zeus wUl turn the tad* C8 ill? 24 Nurse. How so? Orestes, our one hope is gone. Chor. Not yet; a sorry seer might know thus much. Nurse. What say'st thou? Know'st thou aught besides my tale? Chor. Go tell thy message ; do thine errand well: The Gods for what they care for, care enough. Nurse. I then will go, complying with thy words : May all, by God's gift, end most happilyl 7o9 Exit Nurse by Right Side Door, signifying neighborhood. CHORAL INTERLUDE II in four interwoven Strophes and Antistrophes, with Mesode, invokes the Gods the house had worshipped. Zeus, Father of the Gods, the twin-brothers, Apollo in his glorious shrine at Delphi, Hermes who is the conductor of enterprises : the dear son of the house is harnessed to the car of calamity, moderate its pace— and may Murder cease to breed new Mur- der. But the Avenger, like Perseus, must not look on the deed as he does it; as she calls the name Mother let him hurl back the cry of Father. 820 EPISODE III yEgisthus entering from the Right Side Door {of Neighborhood) speaks of this summons ; it may after all be women's fears ' that leap up high and die away to nought.' The Chorus say there is nothing like asking, ^eg. will do so : they cannot cheat a man with his eyes open. Exit through Cen- tral Door. 839 Chorus, in short lyric burst, mark critical moment that decides success or failure. 853 Then cries from within, and Porter rushes from Central Door to Door of Women's Quarters {Left Inferior), loudly summoning Clytaemnestra, and when she appears informs her * the dead are slaying the living.' She sees in a moment the truth, and is looking hurriedly for aid, when enter, from Central Door, Orestts Joined at once by Py lades and Attendants, from Right Inferior. Orest. 'Tisthee I seek : he there has had enough. 878 Clytctm. Ah me I my loved iEgisthus 1 Art thou dead ? Orest. Lov'st the man ? Then in the self-same tomb Shalt thou now lie, nor in his death desert him. Qytcem. [baring her bosom] Hold, boy! Respect this breast of mine, my son. Whence thou full oft, asleep, with toothless gums. Hast sucked the milk that sweetly fed thy life. Orest. What shall I do, my Pylades? Shall I Through this respect forbear to slay my mother ? i>/. Where, then, are Loxias' other oracles. The Pythian counsels, and the fast-sworn vows ? Have all men hostile rather than the gods. Orest. My judgment goes with thine ; thou speakest well. [To Clytamnestra.] Follow : I mean to slay thee where he lies, For while he lived thou held'st him far above My father. Sleep thou with him in thy death. Since thou lov'st him, and whom thou should'st love hatcst. Clytam. I reared thee, and would fain grow old with thee. Orest. What ! Thou live with me, who did'st slay my father? Clytam. Fate, O my son, must share the blame of that. Orest. This fatal doom, then, it is Fate that sends. 25 Clytam. Dost thou not fear a parent's curse, my son ? Orest. Thou, though my mother, did'st to ill chance cast me. Clytam. No outcast thou so sent to house allied. Orest. I was sold doubly, though of free sire bom. Clytam. Where is the price, then, that I got for thee ? Orest. I shrink for shame from pressing that charge home. Clytam. Nay, tell thy father's wantonness as well. Orest. Blame not the man that toils when thou'rt at ease. Clytam. 'Tis hard, my son, for wives to miss their husband. Orest. The husband's toil keeps her that sits at home. Clytam. Thou seem'st, my son, about to slay thy mother. Orest. It is not I that slay thee, but thyself. Clytam. Take heed, beware a mother's vengeful hounds. Orest. How, slighting this, shall I escape my father's ? Clytam. I seem in life to wail as to a tomb. Orest. My father's fate ordains this doom for thee. Clytam. Ah me ! The snake is here I bare and nursed. Orest. An o'er-true prophet was that dread dream-bom. Thou slewest one thou never should'st have slain. Now suffer fate should never have been thine. 916 Exeunt Orestes and Pylades, forcing Clytamnestra through the Central Door, their attendants remaining to guard the door. Chorus^ after a word of pity for even this * twain mischance,* break into CHORAL INTERLUDE III in three interwoven Strophes and Antistrophes, Late came vengeance on Troy, late now has it blest this heaven-sent exile, and our Master's house is freed. On a lover of the war of guile has Re- venge come subtle-souled. Vengeance who Is guileful without guile, Halting of foot and tarrying over-long ; The will of Gods is strangely over-ruled, It may not help the vile. At last we see the light. All-working Time with cleansing rites will purify the house ; Fortune's throws shall fall with gladsome cast : at last we see the light. 959 EXODUS OR FINALE Enter from Main Door Orestes and Pylades, their Attendants bearing the Corpses, and the net in which Agamemnon had been murdered. Orestes solemnly declares that they have perished as murderers; they swore to live and die together and they have kept the oath. He bids the Attendants stretch out in full light of the Sun, the great Purifier, the fatal net, as pledge that he did his dread deed only as deed of necessary ven- geance — he dwells on the cmel device — but Chorus seeing side by side the net and the slaughter by which it has been avenged, can think of nothing but the woe which its avenger by his deed of vengeance must bring on himself. Orestes reiterates the crime of which this deed is the reminder. The Chorus cannot help repeating the unhappy omen. 1009 At this very moment Orestes changes and begins to feel the oncoming madness — while reason yet stays with him he repeats his innocence and puts on the suppliant's fillet, with which he will go to Delphi, and challenge the God who sent him on the errand to free him from its dire consequences. Madness increases, and he can see the Furies in bodily shape dark-robed. 26 and all their long tresses entwined with serpents. In rapid dialogue the Chorus bid him cling to the idea of Apollo, and he bursts away through Distance Door on Left to commence his long career of wanderings. The Chorus conclude : Here, then, upon this palace of our kings A third storm blows again ; The blast that haunts the race has run its course. First came the wretched meal of children's flesh ; Next what befel our king : Slain in the bath was he who ruled our host, Of all the Achseans lord ; And now a third has come, we know not whence, To save ... or shall I say. To work a doom of death ? Where will it end? Where will it cease at last. The mighty Ate dread. Lulled into slumber deep? 27 THIRD PLAY: AFTERNOON: THE GENTLE GODDESSES EUMENIDES* The Scene represents the Oracle of Delphi: the Central Doors being the Gate of the 'Adytum; or Innermost shrine. From the left Inferior Door enter the Priestess of the Oracle, who stands in front of the Central Gate, to offer the Morning Prayer. PROLOGUE The Priestess's Prayer enumerates the Deities who have connection with the Ancient Oracle, how Apollo is its main guardian, after it has passed through many hands ; other Deities have a share in it, even Zeus the Supreme Accomplisher. Praying that her divinations that day may excel even her past, she calls on the Pilgrims to come as the lot permits. 28 Exit through the Main Gate into the Inner Shrine. In a moment she returns, pale and disordered, flinging wide open the Central Gates, through which can dimly be discerned dreadful forms in the Inner Shrine. She can hardly stand for the terror of the sight she has seen ; the sacred shrine polluted by the presence of a man in suppliant garb, bunch of olives and tufts of wool, his sword yet reeking with a recent murder ; and sit- ting round about him yet more dreaded beings. A troop Of women strange to look at sleepeth there Before this wanderer, seated on their stools ; Not women they, but Gorgons I must call them ; Nor yet can I to Gorgon forms compare them ; I have seen painted shapes that bear away The feast of Phineus. Wingless, though, are these. And swarth, and every way abominable. They snort with breath that none may dare approach. And from their eyes a loathsome humour pours, And such their garb as neither to the shrine Of Gods is meet to bring, nor mortal roof. Ne'er have I seen a race that owns this tribe. Nor is there land can boast it rears such brood, Unhurt and free from sorrow for its pains. Henceforth be it the lot of Loxias, Our mighty lord, himself to deal with them : True prophet-healer he, and portent-seer, And for all others cleanser of their homes. 46 63 At her word, in the entrance of the Inner Shrine appears Apollo with Hermes, and they lead Orestes out. ♦Euphemism for the Furies, as the popular name * Good neighbours' for Mischievous Fairies. 28 Apollo will never fail his suppliant ; it is he who has sent sleep on these loathly Beings, bom out of evils, with whom neither Gods nor men hold intercourse. They will still pursue, but he must fly to the ancient City of Pallas and clasp her statue; there 'judges of these things' and *a means' will be found to rid him of his evils. Orestes expresses confidence in Apollo's justice, who reiterates his pledge in the name of Zeus and commits the wanderer to the charge of his own brother Hermes, the Escort-God, to take him safe to Athens. q^ Apollo disappears into his shrine, and Hermes and Orestes leave by the Left side or Distance-door. The stage being thus left vacant, the ma- chinery of the roller-stage brings the interior of the cave to the front : showing the sleeping Furies scattered over the floor. , The Ghost of Cly- tamnestra rises in front of the entrance to the Inner Shrine. Clytcem. What ho ! Sleep on ! What need of sleepers now ? And I am put by you to foul disgrace Among the other dead, nor fails reproach Among the shades that I a murderess am ; And so in shame I wander, and I tell you That at their hands I bear worst forms of blame. And much as J have borne from nearest kin, loo Yet not one god is stirred to wrath for me. Though done to death by matricidal hands. See ye these heart-wounds, whence and how they came ? Yea, when it sleeps, the mind is bright with eyes ; But in the day it is man's lot to lack All true discernment. Many a gift of mine Have ye lapped up, libations pure from wine, And soothing rites that shut out drunken mirth ; And I dread banquets of the night would offer On altar-hearth, at hour no god might share. And lo ! all this is trampled under foot. He is escaped, and flees, like fawn, away. And even from the midst of all your toils Has nimbly slipped, and draws wide mouth at you. Hear ye ; for I have spoken for my life ; Give heed, ye dark, earth-dwelling goddesses, I, Clytaemnestra's phantom, call on you. [ The Erinnyes moan in their sleep. Moan on, the man is gone, and flees far off : My kindred find protectors ; I find none. Moan as before. Too sleep-oppressed art thou, nor pitiest me : Orestes, murderer of his mother, 'scapes. {^Noises repeated. Dost snort ? Dost drowse ? Wilt thou not rise and speed ? What have ye ever done but work out ill? [Noises as before. Yea, sleep and toil, supreme conspirators. Have withered up the dreaded dragon's strength. Chorus of Furies, starting up suddenly with a yell. Seize him, 125 Seize, seize, yea, seize : look well to it. Clytam. Thou, phantom-like, dost hunt thy prey and criest, Like hound that never rests from care of toil. \ a© What dost thou ? (To one Erinnys.) Rise and let not toil o'ercome thee. Nor, lulled to sleep, lose all thy sense of loss. Let thy soul {to another) feel the pain of just reproach : The wise of heart find that their goad and spur. And thou {to a third) breathe on him with thy blood-flecked breath, And with thy vapour, thy maw's fire, consume him ; Chase him, and wither with a fresh pursuit. Leader of the Chor. Wake, wake, I say ; wake her, as I wake thee. Dost slumber ? Rise, I say, and shake off sleep. Let's see if this our prelude be in vain. 134 The Furies start up and {still on the roller-stage) perform a Fury Dance for Prelude in three short Strophes and Antistrophes. Our prey is gone ! Apollo, ever known as a robber-god, has now delivered a matricide from his due doom. Even in my dreams a feeling of reproach stung me as a whip. Such are the doings of these * younger gods.' See Earth's Central Shrine is stained with blood, and Apollo has taken sides with a mortal against a god ; but though the god may vex them, the culprit shall not escape. j5q Apollo, re-appearing from the Inner Shrine, threatens the Furies with his bow. He bids them leave his Sacred precincts and seek scenes more fitted to them. There where heads upon the scaffold lie, And eyes are gouged and throats of men are cut, Where men are maimed and stoned to death, and groan With bitter wailing 'neath the spine impaled. A stichomuthic contest ensues ; the Furies reproach Apollo with taking the part of a matricide. He urges she had first slain her husband — they retort that husband is not kin, to which Apollo pleads the sanctity of the marriage tie ; this authorized by the great example of Zeus and Hera, with its special patroness Cypris, this " assigned by Fate and guided by the Right is more than any oath." Neither party will give way ; Apollo appeals to Pallas as Umpire, the Furies declare they will never desist from the pursuit. 225 CHANGE OF SCENE By the turning of the periacti and other mechanical changes the scene is shifted to the familiar Acropolis of Athens itself, the open Central Doors being arranged to represent the Porch of the Temple of 'Athene, Guar- dian of the City.* Enter by Distance side-door Orestes, who advances to the Centre and clasps the Statue of Pallas. 226 Orestes has come as suppliant, but no longer with the stain of blood on his hands ; that during his long wanderings has been by due rites washed away. Suddenly by the same door the Furies enter upon the Stage, their faces to the ground and tracking Orestes* steps. 235 Chorus of Furies: they have been long off the track, at last the * dumb informer' is clear again, already they catch the loved scent of blood. — There he is clasping in confidence the statue of the Goddess, but watch, he escapes not : no trial, as he hopes, for the matricide ; his own blood they must suck from his living members, and when they have had their fill of this drink undrinkable they will drag him down alive to bear the fate of a matri- cide. Orestes not yet perceiving them continues his prayer: long experience 30 has taught him the various cleansing rites, and they have all been paid ; he has dwelt amongst men and no impurity has been brought on them ; this and all-cleansing Time show that the stain of matricide is removed, and with pure hands he can clasp Athene, queen of this land, and pledge the Argive alliance for her City [one of the poHHcal hits of the piece'] if she will befriend him. The Furies suddenly spring up: Not Apollo nor Athene can save thee from thy doom ! Orestes clings convulsively to the Statue. Thou resistest ? then feel our spell ! 296 Chanting in marching rhythm they rapidly descend the Orchestra stair- case, form about the Altar and then proceed to CHORAL SPELL (FOR ENTRY ODE) in four Strophes and Antistrophes, Strophe I O Mother who didst bear me, mother Night, A terror of the living and the dead, Hear me, oh hear ! The son of Leto puts me to disgrace And robs me of my spoil, This crouching victim for a Mother's blood : And over him as slain. We raise this chant of madness, frenzy-working. The hymn the Erinnyes love, A spell upon the soul, a lyreless strain That withers up men's strength. Antistrophe I This lot the all-pervading destiny Hath spun to hold its ground for evermore, That we should still attend On him on whom there rests the guilt of blood Of kin shed causelessly, Till earth lie o'er him ; nor shall death set free. And over him as slain, We raise this chant of madness, frenzy-working, The hymn the Erinnyes love, A spell upon the soul, a lyreless strain. That withers up men's strength. 328 Strophe II Such lot was then assigned us at our birth : From us the Undying Ones must hold aloof i Nor is there one who shares The banquet-meal with us ; In garments white I have nor part nor lot ; My choice was made for overthrow of homes, Where home-bred slaughter works a loved one's death : Ha ! hunting after him. Strong though he be, 'tis ours To wear the newness of his young blood down. Antistrophe II Since 'tis our work another's task to take. The Gods indeed may bar the force of prayers 31 Men offer unto me. But may not clash in strife ; For Zeus doth cast us from his fellowship, " Blood-dropping, worthy of his utmost hate." . For leaping down as from th^ topmost height, I on my victim bring The crushing force of feet. Limbs that o'erthrow e'en those that swiftly run, An At& hard to bear. Strophe III And fame of men, though very lofty now Beneath the clear, bright sky. Below the earth grows dim and fades away Before the attack of us, the black-robed ones. And these our dancings wild. Which all men loathe and hate. Antistrophe III Falling in frenzied guilt, he knows it not ; So thick the blinding cloud That o'er him floats ; and Rumour widely spread With many a sigh reports the dreary doom, A mist that o'er the house In gathering darkness broods. Strophe IV Fixed is the law, no lack of means find we ; We work out all our will. We, the dread Powers, the registrars of crime, Whom mortals fail to soothe, Fulfilling tasks dishonoured, unrevered. Apart from all the Gods, In foul and sunless gloom. Driving o'er rough steep road both those that see, And those whose eyes are dark. Antistrophe IV What mortal man then doth not bow in awe And fear before all this. Hearing from me the destined ordinance Assigned me by the Gods? This task of mine is one of ancient days ; Nor meet I here with scorn, Though 'neath the earth I dwell, And live there in the darkness thick and dense. Where never sunbeam falls. ^S^* 358 374 EPISODE I Enter in her Chariot [along the balcony of the permanent scene] Athene, Athene has heard far off Orestes' cry, and has come in her swift chariot. What is this strange presence in her own city, and who is this suppliant ? The Chorus, in parallel dialogue, explain who they are, and seek to enlist Athene against the matricide ; but Athene answers she has only heard one side. Chorus rejoin that the adversary dares not rest his case on oath for 33 oath [political allusion to procedure of ordinary Athenian Courts] ; Athene thinks that a poor way of getting at truth, and as Chorus express confidence in her judgment she calls on Orestes; he details again all the rites of purifi- cation he has gone through, and how Apollo bade him do the deed. Athene pauses : Murder stirred by wrath [«. e.y homicide as distinguished from mur- der ^ the special province of the Court of Areopagus] is too much for mortal or even herself to decide ; but she hereby appoints jurors on oath \the special distinction of the Areopagus] as a perpetual institution for dealing with such cases. Let the parties prepare, she will return soon with the best of her citizens \observei the Court was an Aristocratic Court] as Jurors. 467 CHORAL INTERLUDE in four Strophes and Antistrophes. Unless the right cause gains here there will be an outbreak of new laws, general recklessness, and woes of slain kindred with no Furies to avenge. Awe is good as watchman of the soul, ahd calm Wisdom gained by sorrow; it is not the lawless life that is to be praised, but from the soul's true health comes the fair fortune, loved of all mankind and aim of many a prayer. He who reveres not the High Altar of Justice, but dareth and transgresseth all, will, perforce, as time wears on, have to take in sail. When trouble makes him hers, and each yard-arm Is shivered by the blast, and in vain he struggles mid the whirling waves, ever failing to weather round the perilous promontory till he is wrecked on the reefs of Vengeance. 535 CHANGE OF SCENE to Mar^ Hill. Enter Athene^ followed by Herald and Twelve Citizens, EXODUS, OR FINALE Athene bids the Herald sound a summons, for the whole city is to learn the laws she makes for all time to come. Apollo enters above. The Chorus challenging his right, Apollo declares himself Witness and Advocate for Orestes. 551 The Proceedings from this part are exactly modelled on those of the Court of the Areopagus. The Chorus called on to open, cross-examine Orestes in stichomuthic dialogue, who admits the deed, and pleads justification that she slew his father. Cho. rejoin she has been paid by death, Orestes still lives. Why, then, Orestes enquires, did they not pursue her while alive ? Chorus rest on plea that hers was not kindred blood. On this Orestes joins issue and appeals to Apollo. He answers : Though the Jurors are on oath, yet Zeus gave the oracle, and he is mightier than any oath. — Cho. What, Zeus take a matricide's part? — Apollo details the base manner of Agamem- non's murder. — Cho. taunt Apollo that Zeus himself rose by imprisoning his father. — Apollo rejoins that imprisonment is remediable, but blood once spilt can never be brought back. — Cho. appeal to impossibility of restoring such a criminal to the house he has polluted. — Then Apollo puts forth the essence of his case (in a subtle plea which would delight the litigious Athen- ians) : the mother is only the nurse, the father is the true parent ; as proof here is Pallas sprung from a Father without any Mother; none can be shown bom without Father. 650 Both parties join issue, and then {amidst intense political excitement) Athene delivers the Inauguration Address of the Court of the Areopagus. Athene. Hear ye my order, O ye Attic people. In act to judge your first great murder-cause. 33 And henceforth shall the host of ^Egeus' race For ever own this council-hall of judges : And for this Ares' hill, the Amazon's seat And camp when they, enraged with Theseus, came In hostile march, and built as counterwork This citadel high-reared, a city new. And sacrificed to Ares, whence 'tis named As Ares' hill and fortress : in this, I say, The reverent awe its citizens shall own, And fear, awe's kindred, shall restrain from wrong By day, nor less by night, so long as they. The burghers, alter not themselves their laws : But if with drain of filth and tainted soil Clear river thou pollute, no drink thoul't find. I give my counsel to you, citizens. To reverence and guard well that form of state Which is nor lawless, nor tyrannical, And not to cast all fear from out the city ; For what man lives devoid of fear and just ? But rightly shrinking, owning awe like this, Ye then would have a bulwark of your land, A safeguard for your city, such as none Boast or in Skythia's or in Pelops' clime. This council I establish pure from bribe. Reverend, and keen to act, for those that sleep An ever-watchful sentry of the land. 676 After a rapid stichomuthic interchange of promises and threats by the two parties the voting is proceeded with, Athene first giving her casting vote, in case of equality, to Orestes, as preferring the male cause. [ This was a political allusion to the ' vote of Athene ' or custom of the Areopagite Court to give the casting vote to the accused.] The votes are counted, found equal, and Athene declares Orestes acquitted. — Orestes^ in a burst of gratitude, de- clares his Argive people shall always be firm friends with the people of Athens. [Political hit.] 747 The Chorus breaking into Strophic Lyrics \o^ vengeance and long train of ills on the city for this, Athene {in blank verse) propitiating them, and plead- ing that the cause has been fairly tried. Moreover they would lose all the good things the city will do for them if friendly, offering them a house in its midst. Gradually the Chorus calm down, and having {in parallel dialogue) gained a repeated promise from Athene they change their tone and {in Strophic Lyrics) promise all good to the land, Athene making acknowledgment on behalf of the city {in marching rhythm as signifying exultation). Finally Athene offers to conduct them at once to their homes, the cave-chapels where the Eumenides were worshipped. Enter on the stage an array of Matrons and Girls in festal robes ^ as worn in the rites of the Furies, now called Eumenides or * Gentle Goddesses ' \thus spectacular effect with which ALschylus loved to conclude^. They, with Athene, chanting the Ritual hymn, file down into the Orchestra, and so lead the Chorus out in the direction of the Shrines of the Eumenides, 34 t 35 THE ELECTRA OF SOPHOCLES* Scene Mycence ; the Stage and Orchestra arranged to represent the Mar- ket Place, Portico of a Temple in the Centre ; Inferior door on one side is the gate to Palace of yEgisthus and Clytamnestra, that on the other leads to the tomb of Agamemnon ; Side-scene on one side gives a view of Argos, Enter from Distance side-door Orestes, Pylades and Attendant, PROLOGUE The aged Attendant points out to Orestes Argos, the Grove of lo, the Temple and other details of the Scene ; it was just here he received Orestes as a boy when his father was slain and bore him to a place of safety ; now the long wished for day of vengeance is come. Orestes acknowledges his long fidelity ; relates how Phoebus has sent him with this oracle : That I myself unarmed with shield or host Should subtly work the righteous deed of blood, 36 and details his plan : the Attendant, whose age will save him from recogni- tion, shall announce the death of Orestes, while Orestes and Pylades shall perform the rites enjoined at his father's tomb ; then, when the wrong-doers believe themselves secure, the Avenger will easily gain admittance. \^At this moment a woman's wail is heard within.'] Orestes wonders if it may be his own Electra and would stop, the Attendant hurries him away to do the God's behest. 85 Exeunt Orestes and Pylades on left to Tomb of Agamemnon ; Attendant back through the Distance side-door. Enter from Palace Electra moaning and weeping, MONODY Electra in Lyric Monody. The light, the air, the loathed house and bed she sleeps on, all are witnesses of her ceaseless misery and woe, orphaned as she is of a father foully slain. She calls on the Curses, the Furies and other dread Powers who watch over evil slaughter to send Orestes, she can no longer bear up with sorrow's great burden cast into the balance. 120 Enter by the Orchestral door Chorus of Argive Maidens to condole with Electra, LYRIC CONCERTO (for PARODE) Cho. Why mourn for even the guileful slaughter of thy Father, accursed deed ? Electra : I know your kind and tender friendship, yet will never be dissuaded. — Cho. Yet what groans and prayers can raise thy sire from the doomed pool of Hades ? you go from woes bearable to woes beyond bearing. Elec. It is weak to forget parents so lost ; rather for me the nightingale that ever wails ' Itys,' or Niobe weeping in stone.— O^. Thou art not the only one who feels sorrow : there are thy sisters, and another now mourning in a youth obscure, but who will one day return to save. Elec. — Ah ! him I yearn for, but he mocks my messages, and promises yet never comes. — Cho, • The quotations of Sophocles are (mostly) from Plumptre's translation. Take heart : Time is a calm and patient deity ; trusting in Zeus you will find neither Orestes nor the God of Acheron forgetful. Elec. Yet mean- while the larger portion of my life is gone ; orphaned, un-wed, an alien stranger I serve in the house where I was wont to reign.— 67/^. Ah ! that sad day ! Guile devised the blow and lust struck it ! Elec. Oh, most horrible day, most horrible night ! the foul banquet ! the dread forms of death he met with at their accursed hands, he who was my life ! — Cho. But take care : excess of grief makes you utter what may bring you into trouble. Elec. I know, but will never cease from uttering woe on woe : leave me, I am beyond soothing, and will never pause to count my tears.— 0& Had Hades a special lust to feed on my children 1—Elec, This time at least It is not I who begin. I could reply if permitted.— 0^/. permits.— Elec. You admit the monstrous admission, that you slew your husband— for justice sake ? or for the ' coward base ' who is your paramour ? You well know that the offence for which Artemis demanded the sacrifice was Aga- memnon s slaughter of the Sacred Stag, and from his seed therefore the a onement must come which so unwillingly he made. And if not, is your pea blood for blood ? then you will be the first to suffer. How can you plead thus while living in open guilt with him who slew your husband ? It is a cruel mistress, not a mother, I revile: you charge me with rearing Orestes as minister of vengeance, I would indeed if I had strength ' So proclaim me a monster, that will make me a fitting daughter of my mother. —Lhor. Here is passion rather than care to speak right.— C/>//. Thus to show scorn for her mother! she will go all lengths and feel no shame.— i?/^r. Shame I do feel, but the deeds which beget the shame are yours.— C/w By Artemis, you shall pay for this when .Egisthus comes \—Elcc. I thought I had leave to speak.-C/^'/. Will you not be silent and let me perform my ntes without disorder ?—A/^r. Now I am silent (i^^/ir«).—C/K/. then pro- ceeds to offer her gifts to Phoebus, with prayer to avert the ill omen of the past night: as her prayer "is not amongst friends," she can allude but darkly to all she means, but He is a God and will understand all she leaves unsaid. , „ 059 Enter by the Distance-door Attendant of Orestes. Enquiring of Chorus he finds he is arrived before the people he is seeking and announces to Clytaemnestra that Orestes is dead. Electra utters a wail of agony, while Clyt. asks for particulars. Then follows the regular ' Mess- enger s Speech,' a detailed and graphic account of a chariot race, in which he was thrown and killed. Clyt. trembles between joy at deliverance from her suspense, and a touch of motheriy feeling ; still she triumphs over the now hopeless Electra : for him, what is is well. Elec. Hear this, thou Power avenging him who died ! Clyt. Right well she heard, and what she heard hath wrought. The Messenger is taken in to the Palace, Electra left to wail without, with attempt of Chorus to condole {lyric concerto). gyo Enter from Tomb of Agamemnon Chrysothemis jubilant and bearing a lock of hair of Orestes, She eagerly insists that Orestes is come ; shows the lock and describes the libations that no other would pour on that tomb. Bit by bit Electra checks her joy, and informs her of the news. They mourn together, till Electra breaks out with proposal, that since their friends are snatched from them, and they two are left alone, they shall themselves work their revenge ; that will be the safest and will bring glory : * the sisters twain who saved their father's house.' Chor. This requires consideration. Chry. Will you never learn that you are a woman and not a man ? Elec. then declares she will do it herself, and after a stichomuthic contest exit Chrysothemis. 1057 CHORAL INTERLUDE II In two Strophes and Antistrophes. The storks show a pattern of filial piety : why do not men follow it ? By Zeus and Themis there is a punishment for the unfilial : may the voice cry- ing for vengeance reach the sons of Atreus below ! Their house is full of woe ; Electra, alone faithful, is ready to face death if only she may destroy the twin furies. The great and good will purchase glory with life; so may'st thou prevail and gain the name of the best of daughters. 1096 EPISODE III Enter from Distance-door Orestes, Pylades, and Attendants. Orestes informs the Chorus, and Electra as one of the household, that they bear the urn containing the ashes of Orestes, whose death they had sent for- ward a messenger to announce. Electra begs to clasp the urn and pours over it a flood of grief ; here is nothingness to represent the dear boy she sent out in bloom of youth ; and all her forethought has perished ! And he died amid strangers without her to take part in the funeral rites ! All her sweet toil in nursing him with more than mother's love is gone ! All is gone — father, mother, brother! She would go too; they ever shared an equal lot; now let her go to him, ashes to ashes! 1170 Chor. Thou, O Electra, take good heed, wast born Of mortal father ; mortal, too, Orestes, Yield not too much to sorrow. Ores. [Trembling.l Woe is me. What shall I say ? Ah, whither find my way, In words that have no issue ? for I fail In strength to curb my speech. Elec. What sorrow now Disturbs thee ? Wherefore art thou speaking thus ? Ores. Is this Electra's noble form I see ? Elec. That self-same form indeed, in piteous case. Ores. Alas, alas, for this sad lot of thine. Elec. Surely thou dost not wail, O friend, for me ! Ores. O form most basely, godlessly misused. Elec. Thy words, ill-omened, fall, O friend, on none But me alone. Ores. Alas, for this thy state, Unwedded, hopeless. Elec. Why, O friend, on me With such fixed glance still gazing dost thou groan ? Ores. How little knew I of my fortune's ills ! Elec. What have I said to throw such light on them ? Ores. Now that I see thee thus, with many woes Clothed as a garment. 38 EUc, Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Yet thou dost but see A few of all my evils. What could be More sad than these to look on ? This, to live And sit at meat with murderers. With whose ? What evil dost thou indicate by this ? My father's ; 'tis to them, against my will I live in bondage. Who constrains thee, then ? My mother she is called ; and yet in nought Is she what mother should be. In what acts ? By blows and stripes, or this unseemly life ? Both blows, unseemly life, and all vile deeds. And is there none to help ? Not one to check ? No, none. Who was . . . thou buryest him as dust. sad one ! How I pitied thee long since. Know, then, thou art the only pitying one. 1200 For I alone am hurt by these thy woes. Surely thou dost not come by line of blood Connected with us. I could tell thee all, Were these thy friends. Most friendly are they ; speak As unto faithful hearers. Put away That urn awhile that thou may'st hear the whole. Ah ! By the Gods, O stranger, ask not that. Do what I bid thee, and thou shalt not err. Now, by thy beard, deprive me not of that 1 hold most dear. I say it cannot be. Ah me, Orestes, wretched shall I be, Bereaved of this thy tomb. Hush, hush such words ; Thou has no cause for wailing. • Have no cause I Do I not wail my brother, who is dead ? Thou hast no call to utter speech like this. And am I so dishonoured by the dead ? By none art thou dishonoured. But this thing Is nought to thee. And yet it needs must be. If 'tis Orestes's body that I bear. Except in show of speech it is not his. Where, then, is that poor exile's sepulchre ? Of those that live there is no sepulchre. 12 19 What say'st thou, boy ? No falsehood what I say. And does he live ? He lives, if I have life. What, art thou he ? Look thou upon this seal. My father's once, and learn if I speak truth. 39 Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Chor. O blessed day ! Most blessed, I too own. O voice ! And art thou come ? No longer learn That news from others. And I have thee here, Here in my grasp ! So may'st thou always have me. O dearest friends, my fellow-citizens. Look here on this Orestes, dead indeed In feigned craft, and by that feigning saved. We see it, daughter ; and at what has chanced A tear of gladness trickles from our eyes. 1231 A passionate dialogue {in mixed verse : Electra speaking lyrics, Orestes blank verse) of exultation and weeping succeeds: when finally Orestes, is calling back their thoughts to the plans of vengeance, when enter from Palace At- tendant of Orestes , who chides them for their loud joy, which he has barely been able to prevent from reaching the ears of Clytaemnestra. Electra is in- formed who this attendant is, and joyfully recognizes him and calls him father for his faithfulness. He cuts conversation short and hurries Orestes and Pylades within. Electra with a prayer retires. 1383 CHORAL INTERLUDE III Short expression of the sense of a critical moment : Strophe, Ares and the Avengers are on i\i^\x\iZ.y—Antistrophe, they have passed beneath the roof- tree, j^^y EXODUS OR FINALE Electra rushes out to stand on guard against ^gisthus while vengeance is being done on Clytaemnestra.— Cries from within ; Electra and Chorus per- ceive that the deed is done. — Enter Orestes and Pylades from the Palace red- handed ; they are about to triumph when Electra thrusts them back, for iEgisthus is 2.\.\v7\.\^dL.— Enter ^gisthus enquiring for the strangers of Electra. 1442 ^gis. Where are the strangers, then ? Tell this to me. Elec. Within ; for they have found a loving hostess. ^gis. And did they say distinctly he was dead ? Elec. Ah no ! they showed it, not in words alone. ^gis. And is it here, that we may see it plain? Elec. 'Tis here, a sight most pitiful to see. jEgis. Against thy wont thou giv'st me cause for joy. Elec. Thou may'st rejoice, if this be ground of joy. yEgis. I bid you hush, and open wide the gates That all of Argos and Mycenae see, So if there be that once were lifted up With hopes they had, vain hopes they fixed on him. Now seeing him dead, they may receive my curb. And finding me their master, sense may gain Without coercion. Elec. And that end is reached By me ; for I by time have wisdom gained. To yield to those more mighty. The doors are thrown open, and disclose Orestes and Pylades stand- ing by the dead body of Clytamnestra, which is covered with a sheet and a veil over the face. \ 40 ^Sts. Lo, I see, O Zeus, a sight that comes right well for me, (Without offence I say it ; should it move The wrath divine, I wish it all unsaid,) Withdraw the veil which hides the face, that 1 To kindred blood may pay the meed of tears. Do thou uplift it. 'Tis thy task not mine. To look on this, and kindly words to speak. Thou giv'st good counsel, and I list to thee, And thou, if yet she tarries in the house. Call Clytaemnestra. {as yEgistkus lifts the veil) Here she lies before thee. Seek her not elsewhere. Oh what sight is this ! Whom fearest thou ? Who is't thou dost not know ? Into whose snares, whose closely-tangled mesh Have I, poor victim, fallen ? Saw'st thou not Long since that thou didst speak to them that live As they were dead ? Ah me ! I catch thy words. It needs must be that he who speaks to me Is named Orestes. Wert thou then deceived. Thou excellent diviner ? Woe is me ! I perish, yet permit me first to speak One little word. Give him no leave to speak. By all the gods, my brother, nor to spin His long discourse. When men are plunged in ills What gain can one who stands condemned to die Reap from delay ? No, slay him out of hand ; And, having slain him, cast him forth, to find Fit burial at their hands from whom 'tis meet That he should have it, far away from view. Thus only shall I gain a remedy For all the evils of the years gone by. [To ^gisthus.'] Go thou within, and quickly. Now our strife Is not of words, but for thy life itself. Why dost thou force me in ? If this be right. What need of darkness ? Why not slay at once ? Give thou no orders, but where did'st slay My father go, that thou too there may'st die. Truly the doom is fixed, this house should see The ills that on the house of Pelops fall, Or present, or to come. Yes, those that fall On thee : of these I am a prophet true. Thou boastest of a skill which he had not Thy father. Still thou handiest many words, And length'nest out the way. Move on. Lead thou. Not so, thou must go first. \ V Ores, ^gis. Ores. yEgis. Ores, ^gis. Ores, ^gis. Ores. yEgis. Elec. 41 ^gis. Dost think I'll flee ? Ores. Thou must not die the death thou would'st desire. I needs must make it utter. Doom like this Should fall on all who dare transgress the laws. The doom of death. Then wickedness no more Would multiply its strength. Chor. O seed of Atreus, after many woes. Thou hast come forth, thy freedom hardly won. By this emprise made perfect ! 1474 Ores. ^gis. Ores, yEgis. Ores. yEgis. Ores. yEgis. Ores. 43 \ THE ELECTRA OF EURIPIDES* PROLOGUE The Scene is in front of a Peasant's Cottage : the Centre is the door of the Cottage^ the scene on the two sides of it represents the way to dif- ferent fields. Time: early Morning^ the stars still shining. Enter from the Cottage the Peasant on his way to his day's work. In the form of a Morning Prayer to the stream Inachus, he makes known the situation of affairs, the murder of Agamemnon, etc.— and in particular how i^gisthus, fearing lest some nobleman might marry Electra and be her avenger, had forced her into wedlock with himself, a peasant, honest but in the lowest poverty. But he is too good a friend to his master's house and to the absent Orestes to wrong Electra ; he has been a husband only in name, to give her the shelter of his humble roof. Enter Electra from the Cottage with a watering pot : not seeing the Peasant she in a similar soliloquy announces that she is on her way to the river to prosecute her unnatural toil. Peas. Why will thou thus, unhappy lady, toil For my sake bearing labours, nor desist At my desire ? Not thus hast thou been train'd. Elec. Thee equal to the gods I deem my friend, For in my ills thou hast not treated me With insult. In misfortunes thus to find What I have found in thee, a gentle pow'r, Lenient of grief, must be a mighty source Of consolations. It behoves me then Far as my pow'r avails, to ease thy toils, That lighter thou may'st feel them, and to share Thy labour, though unbidden ; in the fields Thou hast enough of work ; be it my task Within to order well. The lab'rer tired Abroad, with pleasure to his house returns. Accustom'd all things grateful there to find. Peas. Go then, since such thy will ; nor distant far The fountain from the house. At the first dawn My bullocks yoked I to the field will drive. And sow my furrows ; for no idle wretch With the gods always in the mouth can gain Without due labour the support of life. 95 Stage vacant a moment. Then enter by Distance-door Orestes and Pylades. Orestes in conversation with his friend makes known he is come by Divine command to avenge his father's death : he has fulfilled the god's first charge to present offerings on his father's tomb ; the second is that he must not enter the walls of the city ; thus he wishes to find his sister— now, as ♦The quotations of Euripides are from Potter's translation. 43 hears, wedded to a peasant !-and consult-they step aside as they see one whom female slave her tresses show ' approaching. 127 Re-enter Electra with her water-pot filled : and in a Monody (strophe, anH- strophe and epode) laments her situation : laments for her lost father her brother afar off, in servitude it may be : and adjures her father's spirit to send vengeance. ^ o PARODE JOINING ON TO EPISODE I Enter the Orchestra Chorus of Maidens of Mycena, and in dialogue (two Strophes and Antistrophes) beg Electra to join them in an approaching fes- tival, as she had been wont in happier days.— Electra declares she is fit for tears and rags, not for festivities.— As for rags they will find her the festal robes ; and vows, instead of tears may gain the goddess's help.— No God says Electra, has an ear for the wretched, and in wretched toil and obscure retreat her life is wasting away.— ^ sob from the concealed Orestes startles them, and they are about to flee, when Orestes and Pylades discover them- selves and reassure them. With difficulty he restrains his emotions through- out a long conversation, personating a messenger from himself to Electra. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec. Ores. Elec, Bearing thy brother's words to thee I come. Most welcome: breathes he yet this vital air? He lives : I first would speak what brings thee joy. Oh be thou blest for these most grateful words! To both in common this I give to share. Where is th' unhappy outcast wand'ring now? He wastes his life not subject to one state. Finds he with toil what life each day requires? Not so ; but mean the wand'ring exile's state. But with what message art thou from him charg'd? T' inquire, if living, where thou bear'st thy griefs. First then observe my thin and wasted state. Wasted with grief, so that I pity thee. Behold my head, its crisped honours shorn. Mourning thy brother, or thy father dead? What can be dearer to my soul than these? Alas! What deem'st thou are thy brother's thoughts? He, though far distant, is most dear to me. Why here thy dwelling from the city far? O, stranger, in base nuptials I am join'd— I feel thy brother's grief !— To one of rank? Not as my father once to place me hop'd — That hearing 1 may tell thy brother, speak. This is his house: in this I dwell remote. This house some digger or some herdsman suits. Generous, though poor, in reverence me he holds. To thee wnat reverence doth thy husband pay? He never hath presumed t' approach my bed. 251 The conversation is prolonged, bringing out for the benefit of the Strangers and the Chorus the whole of Electra's troubles, and how her father's blood IS crying for vengeance. "^^^' The monarch's tomb Unhonoured, nor libations hath receiv'd, Nor myrtle bough, no hallow'd ornament 44 Hath dignified the pyre. Inflamed with wine, My mother's husband, the illustrious lord. For so they call him, trampled on the earth Insultingly where Agammenon lies, And, hurling 'gainst his monument a stone, Thus taunts us with proud scorn, " Where is thy son, "Orestes where? right noble is thy tomb " Protected by his presence." Thus he mocks The absent ; but, O stranger, tell him this Suppliant I beg thee. 371 Enter unexpectedly the Peasant. On hearing that these strangers are messengers from Orestes, he instantly calls for refreshments to be brought, and begs the stranger to delay no longer to enter the cottage : poverty must be no excuse for not offering what hospitality he has. — A burst of admira- tion is drawn from Orestes. 400 Ores. Nature hath giv'n no outward mark to note The generous mind ; the qualities of men To sense are indistinct. I oft have seen One of no worth a noble father shame. And from vile parents worthy children spring, Meanness oft grov'lling in the rich man's mind, And oft exalted spirits in the poor. How then discerning shall we judge aright? By riches? ill would they abide the test. By poverty? on poverty awaits This ill, through want it prompts to sordid deeds. Shall we pronounce by arms? but who can judge By looking on the spear the dauntless heart? Such judgment is fallacious ; for this man. Nor great among the Argives, nor elate With the proud honours of his house, his rank Plebeian, hath approv'd his liberal heart. Will you not then learn wisdom, you whose minds Error with false presentments leads astray? Will you not learn .by manners and by deeds To judge the noble? Such discharge their trust With honour to the state and to their house. Mere flesh without a spirit is no more Than statues in the forum ; nor in war Doth the strong arm the dang'rous shock abide More than the weak ; on nature this depends And an intrepid mind. But we accept Thy hospitable kindness ; for the son Of Agamemnon, for whose sake we come, Present or not is worthy to this house. Go, my attendants, I must enter it ; This man, though poor, more cheerful than the rich Receives me ; to his kindness thanks are due. More would it joy me if thy brother, blest Himself, could lead me to his prosperous house : Yet haply he may come ; th' oracular voice Of Phcebus firmly will be ratified : Lightly of human prophecies I deem. 438 \^Orestes and his attendants enter the house. 45 intf tfhilVcoTage'^ ^' ^'^ '^'^ ^' ^^^^^^ '' ^^^^^^ ^^-^ --^^^ Peasant. Why not ? If they are noble, as their port Denotes them, will they not alike enjoy Contentment, be their viands mean or rich? 1^X^^\^^^''''^ ^^^''^''' can think of is to send to an old servant of her fatal nLht'" no ' '"'"'. .^^^' "' '^^"/"^' P^^^^^^^^ ^^e child Orestes on the fatal night-now an aged herdsman forced to hide himself in obscuritv and ?I .?7rl'/ ^'^P;./^T '" ^h^^^^^^g-^^y- E-it Peasant to thT}7dlfind the old Tutor; Electra into the cottage. ^cujuia 474 CHORAL INTERLUDE I pw/J^'^k''^' '^^ ^'l^l ""^ '^^P' ^^^^ ^^"t t« the Trojan War, the great ch efs who commanded, especially Achilles, whose shield they have feen with Its Gorgons, and Sphinxes, and Hermes in flight, and other wondrous figures-suddenly at the end connects itself with the subject of hrplay by t^^^^'^^ -'^ commanded heroes\ike these^th^t'^ •^ ' 530 EPISODE II nf/Hf^^'''''' ^f'^f^f/^' ^^'^ ^^^or, tottering under the weight of a kid and other vtands, dad tn rags, and in tears. Electra wonders why he wee p^ to mourn for Agamemnon or Orestes is surely now to mourn in va^ ^ ' ->' ■ Tut. In vain ; but this my soul could not support ; For to his tomb as on the way I came, I turned aside, and falling on the ground. Alone and unobserved, indulg'd my tears ; Then of the wine, brought for thy stranger guests. Made a libation, and around the tomb Plac'd myrtle branches ; on the pyre I saw A sable ewe, yet fresh the victim's blood. And clust'ring auburn locks shorn from some head ; I marvell'd, O my child, what man had dar'd Approach the tomb, for this no Argive dares. Perchance with secret step thy brother came And paid these honors to his father's tomb. But view these locks, compare them with thine own. Whether like thine their color ; nature loves In those who from one father draw their blood In many points a likeness to preserve. Elec. Unworthy of a wise man are thy words. If thou canst think that to Mycence's realms My brother e'er with secret step will come. Fearing .Egisthus. Then between our locks What can th' agreement be? To manly toils He in the rough Palaestra hath been train'd, Mine by the comb are soften'd ; so that hence Nothing may be inferr'd. Besides, old man, Tresses like-color'd often may'st thou find Where not one drop of kindred blood is shar'cl. Tut. Trace but his footsteps, mark th' impression, see If of the same dimensions with thy feet. Elee. How can th' impression of his foot be left On hard and rocky ground? But were it so, 553 46 Brother and sister never can have foot Of like dimensions : larger is the man's. Tut, But hath thy brother, should he come, no vest Which thou wou'dst know, the texture of thy hands, In which whensnatch'd from death he was array'd? Elec. Know'st thou not, when my brother from this land Was saved, I was but young? But were his vests Wrought by my hands, then infant as he was, How could he now in his maturer age Be in the same array'd, unless his vests Grew with his person's growth ? No, at the tomb Some stranger, touch'd with pity, sheared his locks, Or native, by the tyrant's spies unmark'd. Tut Where are these strangers ? I would see them : much Touching thy brother wish I to inquire. Elec. See, from the house with hast'ning step they come. 599 Re-enter Orestes and Pylades: Conversation in which the aged Tutor eyes him curiously all over, and declares he is Orestes— general recognition and burst of joy.— Then they turn to vengeance, and in stichomuthic dialogue lay their plans, ^gisthus, the Tutor says, is to come to a neighboring field to celebrate a sacrifice ; they lay apian for Orestes and Pylades to gain admission as travellers and kill him in the moment of sacrifice. As to Clytaemnestra : a report is prevalent in the palace that Electra has given birth to a child ; they conspire to give currency to the report and invite Clytaemnestra to perform the ten days' rite : once in the house, Orestes will do the dreadful deed ; they tremble at their horrid tasks, but their father must be avenged.— Zi>^««/ Orestes and his Attendants to the fields ; and Electra to the Cottage begging the Chorus, who are privy to all this as con- fidential fnends, to keep watch and summon her if news comes. 763 Strophe i. Aniis. CHORAL INTERLUDE II The Argive mountains round, 'Mongst tales of ancient days From age to age recorded this remains : Tuned to mellifluous lays, Pan taught his pipe to sound. And as he breath'd the sprightly-swelling strains. The beauteous ram, with fleece of gold, God of shepherds, on he drove. The herald from the rock above Proclaims, " Your monarch's wonders to behold, " Wonders to sight, from which no terrors flow, "Go, Mycenceans, to th' assembly go." With reverence they obey the call. And fill th' Atridae's spacious hall. Its gates with gold o'erlaid. Wide oped each Argive shrine. And from the altar hallow'd flames arise ; Amidst the rites divine, Joying the Muse to aid, Breath'd the brisk pipe its sweet notes to the skies ; Accordant to the tuneful strain Swell'd the loud acclaiming voice. Now with Thyestes to rejoice : He, all on fire the glonous prize to gain. / Strophe 2. Antis. 2. 47 With secret love the wife of Atreus won. And thus the shining wonder made his own ; Then to the assembly vaunting cried, " Mine is the rich Ram's golden pride." Then, oh then, indignant Jove Bade the bright sun backward move. And the golden orb of day. And the morning's orient ray ; Glaring o'er the Western sky' Hurl'd his ruddy lightnings fly ; Clouds, no more to fall in rain. Northward roll their deep'ning train ; Libyan Ammon's thirsty seat, Wither'd with the scorching heat. Feels nor show'rs nor heavenly dews Grateful moisture round diffuse. Fame hath said (but light I hold What the voice of fame hath told) That the sun, retiring far. Backward roll'd his golden car; And his vital heat withdrew, Sick'ning man's bold crimes to view. Mortals, when such tales they hear, Tremble with an holy fear, And th' offended gods adore ; She, this noble pair who bore, Dar'd to murder, deed abhorr'd 1 This forgot, her royal lord. EPISODE III 81S As the Ode is concluding, shouts are heard from the direcHon of thp fi^M where the sacrifice is: Chorus summon Electra. ^^'^'^^^^ of the field After a brief conversation, a Messenger arrives breathless, and after raoidlv fnl/.V "^.^.^ihat^gisthus has fallen, is encouraged to tell thrs^^^^^^^ at length, which he does in the regular ' Messenger's Speech.' Mess. Departing from this house, the level road g/ic We enter'd soon, mark'd by the chariot wheel On either side. Mycenae's noble king Was there, amidst his gardens with fresh streams Irxiguous walking, and the tender boughs Of myrtles, for a wreath to bind his head. He cropt ; he saw us, he address'd us thus Aloud ; Hail, strangers ; who are ye, and whence Come, from what country? Then Orestes said. 1 hessahans ; victims to Olympian Jove We at the stream of Alpheus go to slay. The King replied. Be now my guests, and share Ihe feast with me ; a bullock to the Nymphs I sacrifice ; at morn's first dawn arise, Then shall you go ; but enter now my house. Thus as he spoke, he took us by the hand And led us, nothing loth : beneath his roof Soon as we came, he bade his slaves prepare Baths for the strangers, that, the altars nigh. / 48 Beside the lustral ewers they might stand. Orestes then, With lavers from the pure And living stream we lately have been cleansed : But with thy citizens these rites to share, If strangers are permitted, we, O King, Are ready to thy hospitable feast. Nothing averse. The converse here had end. Their spears, with which they guard the king, aside Th' attendants laid, and to their office all Applied their hands ; some led the victim, some The baskets bore, some rais'd the flames and plac'd The cauldrons on the hearth ; the house resounds. Thy mother's husband on the altars cast The salted cakes, and thus address'd his vows : Ye Nymphs that haunt the rocks, these hallow'd rites Oft let me pay, and of my royal spouse Now absent, both by fortune blest as now ; And let our foes as now, in ruin lie ; Thee and Orestes naming. But my Lord, Far other vows address'd, but gave his words No utt'rance, to regain his father's house. i^gisthus then the sacrificing sword Took from the basket, from the bullock's front To cut the hair, which on the hallow'd fire With his right hand he threw ; and, as his slaves The victim held, beneath its shoulder plung'd The blade ; then turning to thy brother spoke : Among her noble arts Thessalia boasts To rein the fiery courser, and with skill The victim's limbs to sever ; stranger, take The sharp-edg'd steel and show that fame reports Of the Thessalians truth. The Doric blade Of temper'd metal in his hand he grasp'd. And from his shoulders threw his graceful robe ; Then to assist him in the toilsome task Chose Pylades, and bade the slaves retire : The victim's foot he held, and its white flesh. His hand extending, bared, and stript the hide E'er round the course the chariot twice could roll, And laid the entrails open. In his hands The fate-presaging parts yEgisthus took, Inspecting : in the entrails was no lobe ; The valves and cells the gall containing show Dreadful events to him, that view'd them, near. Gloomy his visage darken'd ; but my lord Ask'd whence his sadden'd aspect : He replied — Stranger, some treachery from abroad I fear ; Of mortal men Orestes most I hate. The son of Agamemnon ; to my house He is a foe. Wilt thou, replied my lord, King of this state, an exile's treachery dread ? But that, these omens leaving, we may feast. Give me a Phthian for this Doric blade, The breast asunder I will cleave. He took The steel and cut. iEgisthus, yet intent, Parted the entrails ; and, as low he bow'd 49 His head, thy brother, rising to the stroke. Drove through his back the ponderous axe, and riv'd The spinal joints : his heaving body writh'd And quiver'd, struggling in the pangs of death. The slaves beheld, and instant snatched their spears, Many 'gainst two contesting ; but my lord And Pylades with dauntless courage stood Oppos'd, and shook their spears. Orestes then Thus spoke: I come not to this state a foe, Nor to my servants ; but my father's death I on his murderer have aveng'd ; you see Th* unfortunate Orestes : kill me not. My father's old attendants. At these words They all restrain'd their spears, and he was known By one grown hoary in the royal house. Crowns on thy brother's head they instant plac'd With shouts of joy. He comes, and with him brings Proof of his daring, not a Gorgon's head. But whom thou hat'st, ^gisthus : blood for blood. Bitter requital, on the dead has fall'n. 939 General exultation (in Lyric measures) succeeds, which increases as Orestes and Pylades re-enter bearing the corpse of yEgisthus. After brief cele- bration of the deed the face of the corpse is uncovered, and Electra, gazing at it, gives vent to her scorn and hatred : how he had slain a hero, made her an orphan, lived in shame with her mother, enjoying and trusting in her father's wealth : but Nature is firm, not riches : she remains For ever, and triumphant lifts her head. But unjust wealth, which sojourns with the base. Glitters for some short space, then flies away. His efEeminate manners are more than maiden tongue may speak of ; beauty graced his perfect form : But be not mine a husband, whose fair face In softness with a virgin's vies, but one Of manly manners ; for the sons of such By martial toils are trained to glorious deeds ; The beauteous only the dance give grace. Let the wicked in future learn they are not secure till the goal of life is reached. 1092 Clytsemnestra is then seen approaching : they hurry Orestes in ; his heart fails him at the thought of his mother ; with difficulty Electra rouses him to his appointed vengeance. [Exeunt all but Electra into the Cottage. Enter Clytcemnestra in a Chariot and splendid array. ^ The Chorus welcome her, and she begs their aid to alight. — Electra thrusts herself forward clad in rags as she is, and begs that she too may assist. — Clyt. feels the impropriety of the scene, and falls into an apologetic tone ; it was Electra's father who, by his injustice to Iphigenia, was the real cause of Electra's trouble. This leads to the usual judicial disputation : Clyt. pleading that this sacrifice of her daughter was done not for a good cause, but for the wanton Helen ; this sacrifice she had avenged, and to avenge it must join an enemy, not a friend, of Agamemnon. — Electra^ after getting permission, replies : Helen not the only wanton one of her family ; if no motive but vengeance, why begin to adorn as soon as Agamemnon was out of the way, why rejoice whenever the 50 51 Trojans prospered, why go on to persecute Orestes and herself, nay, why not slay i^gisthus for persecuting these her children ? The sight of Electra's miserable condition makes even Clyt. feel compunction : she has been too harsh, she will be kinder now, and so shall yEgisthus — Electra replying to all that it is too late. At last Clyt. prepares to go within the house and per- form the rite for Electra; then she will join her husband. Exeunt Attend' ants with Charioty and Electra ushers Clytcemnestra into the Cottage, Lei my poor house receive thee ; but take heed Lest thy rich vests the blackening smoke defiles. — There shalt thou sacrifice, as to the gods Behoves thee sacrifice : the basket there Is for the rites prepared, and the keen blade Which struck the bull ; beside him shalt thou fall By a like blow ; in Pluto's courts his bride He shall receive, with whom in heav'n's fair light Thy couch was shared : to thee this grace I give, Thou vengeance for my father shalt give me. 1274 CHORAL INTERLUDE III The waves of mischief are flowing back, the gale of Violence is veering : Vengeance for the crime of old standing is come at last. 1298 EXODUS, OR FINALE Cries are heard from within : the Chorus know that the deed is done. By the machinery of the roller-stage the interior of the Cottage is displayed^ with Orestes and Electra standing over the corpse of Clytamnestra. A revulsion of feeling has come over them : they did the deed in frenzy ; now, instead of triumph, they have no thoughts but for the act they have done, and how they will carry a curse with them ever after, and all will shun them. With horror they recall the details of the scene : Ores, Didst thou see her when she drew Her vests aside, and bared her breasts, and bow'd To earth her body whence I drew my birth, Whilst in her locks my furious hand I wreath'd ? Elec. With anguish'd mind, I know, thou didst proceed, When heard thy wailing mother's piteous cries. Ores. These words, whilst with her hands she strok'd my cheeks, Burst forth, " Thy pity I implore, my son ; " Soothing she spoke, as on my cheeks she hung. That bloodless from my hand the sword might fall. Char. Wretched Electra, how could'st thou sustain A sight like this ? How bear thy mother's death, Seeing her thus before thine eyes expire ? Ores. Holding my robe before mine eyes, I rais'd The sword and plung'd it in my mother's breast. Etec. I urged thee to it, I too touch'd the sword. Chor. Of deeds most dreadful this which thou hast done. Cover thy mother's body ; in her robes Decent compose her wounded limbs. — Thou gav'st Being to those who were to murder thee. 1338 DIVINE INTERVENTION Suddenly over the Permanent Scene two Supernatural Beings appear and move along, recognized by the Chorus as Castor and Pollux, the Family ^^^'' 1364 Hear, son of Agamemnon : for to thee Thy mother's brothers, twin-born sons of Jove Castor, and this my brother Pollux, speak. Late, having calmed the ocean waves, that swell'd The lab'ring vessel menacing, we came To Argos, where our sister we beheld. Thy mother, slain : with justice vengeance falls On her ; in thee unholy is the deed. Yet Phoebus, Phoebus— but, my king is he ; I will be silent ; yet, though wise, he gave To thee response not wise ; but I must praise Perforce these things. Thou now must do what Fate And Jove decree. Electra is to marry Pylades, and Orestes to flee to Athens and be purified by the Court on the Hill of Mars : Apollo assisting. Orestes' future life is fore- told [thus working out various details of the Orestes legends].— With awe Orestes, Electra, and Chorus enter into converse with the gods, and the word IS confirmed. They failed to avert the trouble from their house on account of dire Fate and ' the voice unwise of Phoebus from his shrine.' There has been a Demon hostile to Electra's parents.— Then the brother and sister's thoughts turn to the life-long separation, and the painful wandering sorrows e en to the gods mournful to hear. Farewell to Argos : the Gods hurry Orestes away for the Furies are already on his track, and conclude : To the impious thro' the ethereal tract We no assistance bring : but those to whom Justice and sanctity of life is dear. We from their dangerous toils relieve and save. Let no one then unjustly will to act. Nor in one vessel with the perjured sail : A god to mortals this monition gives. Chor. Oh, be you blest ! And those, to whom is given Calmly the course of mortal life to pass. By no affliction sunk, pronounce we blest. / \ sa THE ALCESTIS OF EURIPIDES* MEMORANDUM Of the Story as it would be traditionally familiar to the Audience before-hand. — Admetus was the splendid King of PhercSy so famous for the sacred rites of Hospitality that he had Sons of the Gods for Guests^ and the God of Brightness, Apollo^ himself while he sojourned on earth chose Admetus^ s household to dwell in. In the full tide of his greatness the time came for him to die : Apollo interposed for his chief votary, and won from the Fates that he might die by substitute. But none ivas found willing to be the victim^ not even his aged parents : at last Alcestis his wife, young and bright as himself gave herself for her husband and died. Then another Guest-Friend of Admetus came to the rescue, Jupiter's own son Hercules, and by main force wrested Alcestis from the grasp of Deaths and restored her to her husband. PROLOGUE Scene : Phera in Thessaly. The early morning sunshine blazes full on the Royal Palace of the Glorious Admetus, and on the statues^ conspicuous in front of it, of Jupiter Lord of Host and Guest, and Apollo : nevertheless the Courtyard is silent and deserted. — At last Apollo himself is seen, not aloft in the air as Gods were wont to appear, but on the threshold of the Central Gate. Apollo meditates on his happy associations with the house he is quitting. How when there was trouble in heaven, and he himself, for resisting Jove's vengeance on the Healer ^sculapius, was doomed to a year's slavery amongst mortal men, he had bound himself as herdsman to Admetus, and Admetus exercised his lordship with all reverence : A holy master o'er his holy slave. 13 How again when trouble came to Admetus he had saved him from the day of death, on condition that another would die in his stead. His friends, his father, e'en the aged dame That gave him birth were asked in vain : not one Was found, his wife except. 19 The dreadful day has come, and Alcestis is at this moment breathing her last in the arms of her husband : and he himself must leave his loved friend, for Deity may not abide in the neighborhood of death's pollution. 27 Suddenly, the hideous Phantom of Death becomes visible, ascending the Steps of the Dead [from below the Orchestra on to the Stage] : his pace never flags, yet he cowers like all things of darkness, before the Bow of Apollo. * The quotations are from Potter's Translation, in Routledge's Universal Library, freely altered in parts for the purpose of bringing out changes of metre, etc., in the original. The References are to the numbering of the lines in Potter. 53 Death reproaches Apollo with haunting the dwellings of mortals, and with seeking by that Bow of his to defraud the Infernal Powers of their due. Apollo defends himself : he is but visiting friends he loves : he has no thought of using force. But would he could persuade Death to choose his victims according to the law of nature, and slay ripe lingering age instead of youth ! Death. Greater my glory when the youthful die ! 58 Apollo appeals to self-interest : more sumptuous obsequies await the aged dead. — That, answers Death, were to make laws in favor of the rich. — Apollo condescends to ask mercy for his friend as a favor; but favors. Death sneers, are not in keeping with his manners ; and taunts Apollo with his helplessness to resist fate. The taunt rouses Apollo to a flash of pro- phecy (which is one of his attributes), giving (as the Greek stage loved to do) a glimpse into the end of the story. Apollo. Yet, ruthless as thou art, soon wilt thou cease 67 This contest ; such a man to Pherae's house Comes He, in this house A welcome guest to Admetus, will by force Take his wife from thee ; and no thanks from me Will be thy due ; yet what I now entreat Then thou wilt yield, and 1 shall hate thee still. Apollo moves away and disappears in the distance [by Left Side-door], while Death, hurling defiance after him, waves his fatal sword and crosses the threshold. gi PARODE, OR CHORUS-ENTRY Enter the Orchestra [by the Right Archway, as from the neighbor- hood] the Chorus : Old Men of Pherce, come to enquire how it is with the Queen on the morning of this appointed day of her death. As usual in such Chorus- Entries their chanting is accompanied with music and gesture-dance to a rhythm traditionally associated with marching. But by a very unusual effect they enter in disordered ranks, moving in two loosely -formed bodies towards the Central Altar. 82 I St Semichorus. What a silence encloses the Palace ! What a hush in the house of Admetus ! 2nd Semichorus. Not a soul is at hand of the household To answer our friendly enquiry — Is it over, all over but weeping? Or sees she the light awhile longer. Our Queen, brightest pattern of women The wide world through, Most devoted of wives, our Alcestis? Arriving at the Altar they fall for a time into compact order, and exchange their marching rhythm for the elaborate Choral ritual, the evolutions taking them to the Right of the Orchestra. 89 Strophe Listen for the heavy groan, Smitten breast and piercing moan, Ringing out that life is gone. The house forgets its royal state. And not a slave attends the gate. Our sea of woe runs high : — ah, mid the waves Appear, Great Healer, Apollo ! Full Chorus, Full Chorus, 54 They break again into loose order and inarching rhythm^ remaining on the Right of the Orchestra. 1st Semi. Were she dead, could they keep such a silence ? 94 2nd Semi. May it be — she is gone from the Palace ? 1st Semi. Never ! 2nd Semi. Nay, why so confident answer ? 1st Semi. To so precious a corpse could Admetus Give burial bare of its honours ? They reunite in Choral order and work back to the Altar, Antistrophe Lo, no bath the porch below, 99 Nor the cleansing fountain's flow, Gloomy rite for house of woe. The threshold lacks its locks of hair, Clipp'd for the dead in death's despair. Who hears the wailing voice and thud of hands. The seemly woe of the maidens ? At the Altar they again break up and fall into marching rhythm, 2nd Semi. Yet to-day is the dread day appointed — 105 1st Semi, Speak not the word ! 2nd Semi. The day she must pass into Hades — 1st Semi. I am cut to the heart ! I am cut to the soul I 2nd Semi. When the righteous endure tribulation, Avails nought long-tried love. Nought is left to the friendly — but mourning ! Accordingly they address themselves to a Full Choral Ode, the evolutions carrying them to the extreme Left of the Orchestra in the Strophe^ and in the Antistrophe back to the Altar. CHORAL INTERLUDE I Strophe In vain — our pious vows are vain — Make we the flying sail our care, The light bark bounding o'er the main ; To what new realm shall we repair ? To Lycia's hallow'd strand ? Or where in solitary state. Mid thirsty deserts wild and wide That close him round on every side. Prophetic Ammon holds his awful seat ? What charm, what potent hand Shall save her from the realms beneath ? He comes, the ruthless tyrant Death : I have no priest, no altar more, Whose aid I may implore ! Antistrophe O that the Son of Phoebus now Lived to behold th' ethereal light ! Then might she leave the seats below, Where Pluto reigns in cheerless night I The Sage's potent art, III 121 55 Till thund'ring Jove's avenging pow'r Hurl'd his red Thunders at his breast, Could, from the yawning gulf releast, To the sweet light of life the dead restore. Who now shall aid impart ? To ev'ry god, at ev'ry shrine, The king hath paid the rites divine : But vain his vows, his pious care ; And ours is dark despair ) EPISODE I At last they have been heard, and one of the Queen's Women comes •weeping from the Palace [by one of the Inferior Doors^ : the Chorus fall into their Episode position, in two ranks, betiveen the Altar and the Stage, taking part by their Foreman in the dialogue. The Chorus eagerly enquire whether Alcestis yet lives. 138 Attend. As living may I speak of her, and dead. Cho. Living and dead at once, how may that be ? Attend. E'en now she sinks in death and breathes her last. They join in extolling her heroic devotion, and the Attendant tells of her bearing on this day of Death, which she celebrates as if a day of religious festival. When she knew 160 The destin'd day was come, in fountain water She bath'd her lily-tinctur'd limbs, then took From her rich chests, of odorous cedar form'd, A splendid robe, and her most radiant dress ; Thus gorgeously array'd she stood before The hallow'd flames, and thus address'd her pray'r : "O Queen, I go to the infernal shades I Yet, e'er I go, with reverence let me breathe My last request: Protect my orphan children. Make my son happy with the wife he loves, 170 And wed my daughter to a noble husband : Nor let them, like their mother, to the tomb Untimely sink, but in their native land Be blest through length'ned life to honour'd age." Then to each altar in the royal house She went, and crown'd it, and address'd her vows, Plucking the myrtle bough; nor tear, nor sigh Came from her, neither did the approaching ill Change the fresh beauties of her vermeil cheek. Her chamber then she visits, and her bed ; 180 There her tears flow'd, and thus she spoke : " O bed To which my wedded lord, for whom I die, Led me a virgin bride, farewell ; to thee No blame do I impute, for me alone Hast thou destroy'd ; disdaining to betray Thee and my lord, I die : to thee shall come Some other woman, not more chaste, perchance More happy " — as she lay, she kissed the couch; And bath'd it with a flood of tears ; that pass'd. She left her chamber, then return'd, and oft 190 56 She left it, oft retum'd, and on the couch Fondly, each time she enter'd, cast herself. ♦ Her children, as they hung upon her robes, Weeping, she rais'd, and clasp'd them to her breast Each after each, as now about to die. Each servant through the house burst into tears In pity of their mistress ; she to each Stretch'd her right hand ; nor was there one so mean To whom she spoke not, and admitted him To speak to her again. Within the house 200 So stands it with Admetus. Had he died, His woes were over : now he lives to bear A weight of pain no moment shall forget. Alcestis is wasting away, and fading with swift disease, while her distracted husband holds her in his arms, entreating impossibilities. And now they are about to bring her out, for the dying Alcestis has a longing for one more sight of heaven and the radiant morning. The Chorus are plunged in despair : how will their king bear to live after the loss of such a wife I 235 The lamentations rise higher still as the Central Gates open and the couch of Alcestis is borne out, Admetus holding her in his arms, and her children clinging about her ; the Stage fills with weeping frietids and attendants. The whole dialogue falls into lyrical measures with strophic alternations just per- ceptible. Alcestis commences to address the sunshine and fair scenery she has come out to view— when the scene changes to her dying eyes, and she can see nothing but the gloomy river the dead have to cross, with the boat- man ready waiting, and the long dreary journey beyond. Dark night is creeping over her eyes, when Admetus, as he ever mingles his passionate prayers with her wanderings, conjures her for her children's sake as well as his own not to forsake them. A thought for her children's future rouses the mother from her stupor, and she rallies for a solemn last appeal \the measure changing to blank verse to mark the change of tone]. She begins to recite the sacrifice she is making for her lord : I die for thee, though free Not to have died, but, from Thessalia's chiefs Preferring whom I pleas'd, in royal state To have lived happy here — I had no will To live bereft of thee with these poor orphans — I die without reluctance, though the gifts Of youth are mine to make life grateful to me. Yet he that gave thee birth, and she that bore thee. Deserted thee, though well it had beseem'd them With honour to have died for thee, t' have saved Their son with honour, glorious in their death. They had no child but thee, they had no hope Of other offspring, should'st thou die ; and I Might thus have lived, thou mightst have lived till age Crept slowly on, nor wouldst thou heave the sigh Thus of thy wife deprived, nor train alone Thy orphan children : — but some God appointed It should be thus : thus be it. 284 290 300 All this is the basis for a requital she demands of her husband : that he shall let her children be lords in their own house, and not set over them the cruel guardianship of a step-mother. 57 325 request as dying wife, 334 My son that holds endearing converse with thee 315 Hath in his father a secure protection ; But who, my daughter, shall with honour guide Thy virgin years ? What woman shall thou find New-wedded to thy father, whose vile arts Will not with slanderous falsehoods taint thy name. And blast thy nuptials in youth's freshest bloom ? * For never shall thy mother see thee led A bride, nor at thy throes speak comfort to thee. Then present when a mother's tenderness Is most alive : for I must die ! The Chorus pledge their faith that the king will honour such a long as reason lasts. Admetus addresses a solemn vow to his that her will shall be done : Living thou wast mine. And dead thou only shalt be called my wife. It will be only too easy to keep such a pledge as that, for life henceforth will be one long mourning to him. Hence I renounce The feast, the cheerful guest, the flow'ry wreath, 350 And song that used to echo through my house : For never will I touch the lyre again. Nor to the Libyan flute's sweet measures raise My voice : with thee all my delights are dead. Thy beauteous figure, by the artist's hand Skillfully wrought, shall in my bed be laid ; By that reclining, I will clasp it to me, And call it by thy name, and think I hold My dear wife in my arms, and have her yet, Though now no more I have her : cold delight 360 I ween, yet thus th' affliction of my soul I shall relieve, and visiting my dreams Shalt thou delight me. O for the power of Orpheus's lyre, that might rescue thee even from the realms of the dead ! 374 But there await me till I die ; prepare A mansion for me, as again with me To dwell ; for in thy tomb I will be laid. In the same cedar, by thy side composed : For e'en in death I will not be disjoin'd From thee who hast alone been faithful to to me I As the Chorus join in Admetus's sorrow the pledge is reiterated, and the dying mother is satisfied. Ale. Thus pledging, from my hands receive thy children, Adm. A much-loved gift, and from a much-loved hand I 386 The strength Alcestis had summoned for her last effort now forsakes her : she sinks rapidly. Ale. A heavy weight hangs on my darkened eye. 395 If thou forsake me I am lost indeed I As one that is no more I now am nothing. Ah, raise thy face ! forsake not thus thy children f It must be so perforce : farewell, my children. Adm. Ale. Adm. Ale. \ 58 59 Adm. Look on them, but a look. Ale. I am no more. Advi. How dost thou ? Wilt thou leave us so ? Ale. Farewell. Adm. And what a wretch, what a lost wretch am 1 1 Cho. She's gone ! Thy wife, Admetus, is no more ! The little Son flings himself passionately on the corpse [the metre breaking out into strophic altemations\ ' Strophe Son. O my unhappy fate ! 405 My mother sinks to the dark realms of night, Nor longer views this golden light ; But to the ills of life exposed Leaves my poor orphan state ! Her eyes, my father, see, her eyes are closed. And her hand nerveless falls. Yet hear me, O my mother, hear my cries ! It is thy son who calls. Who prostrate on the earth breathes on thy lips his sighs. Adm. On one that hears not, sees not ! I and you Must bend beneath affliction's heaviest load. Antistrophe Son, Ah! she hath left my youth — 417 My mother, my loved mother is no more — Left me my sufferings to deplore, Left me a heritage of woe : Who shall my sorrows soothe ? Thou too, my sister, thy full share shalt know Of grief, thy heart to rend. Vain, O my father, vain thy nuptial vows, Brought to this speedy end : For when my mother died in ruin sanjc our house 1 425 The Chorus [in calm blank verse'] call on their king to command himself and bear what many have had to bear before. — Admetus knows he must : this calamity has not come without notice. He rouses himself to give orders as to the preparations for burial : the mourning rites shall last a whole year, and shall extend throughout the whole region of Thessaly : the very horses shall have their waving manes cut close, and no sound of flute or instrument of joy shall be heard in the city. 445 The corpse is slowly carried outy and at last the Stage is vacant. Then the Chorus address themselves to a Choral Ode in memory of the Spirit now passed beneath the earth: the evolutions as usual, carrying them with each Strophe to one end of the Orchestra, and with the Antistrophe back to the Altar. CHORAL INTERLUDE II Strophe I Immortal bliss be thine, 446 Daughter of Pelias, in the realms below, Immortal pleasures round thee flow. Though never there the sun's bright beams shall shine. Be the black-brow'd Pluto told, And the Stygian boatman old, Whose rude hands grasp the oar, the rudder guide. The dead conveying o'er the tide, — Let him be told, so rich a freight before His light skiff never bore ; Tell him that o'er the joyless lakes The noblest of her sex her dreary passage takes. Antistrophe Thy praise the bards shall tell. When to their hymning voice the echo rings. Or when they sweep the solemn strings. And wake to rapture the seven-chorded shell ; Or in Sparta's jocund bow'rs, Circling when the vernal hours Bring the Carnean Feast, whilst through the night Full-orb'd the high moon rolls her light ; Or where rich Athens, proudly elevate, Shows her magnific state : Their voice thy glorious death shall raise, And swell th' enraptured strain to celebrate thy praise. Strophe II O that I had the pow'r. Could I but bring thee from the shades of night, Again to view this golden light. To leave that boat, to leave that dreary shore, Where Cocytus, deep and wide. Rolls along his sullen tide I For thou, O best of women, thou alone For thy lord's life daredst give thy own. Light lie the earth upon thy gentle breast. And be thou ever blest ! While, should he choose to wed again. Mine and his children's hearts would hold him in disdain. Antistrophe When, to avert his doom. His mother in the earth refused to lie ; Nor would his ancient father die To save his son from an untimely tomb ; Though the hand of time had spread Hoar hairs o'er each aged head : In youth's fresh bloom, in beauty's radiant glow. The darksome way thou daredst to go. And for thy youthful lord's to give thy life. Be ours so true a wife ! Though rare the lot, then should we prove Th' indissoluble bond of faithfulness and love. 458 470 482 493 EPISODE II Enter on the Stage through the distance-entrance [Left Side-door] the colossal figure of Hercules. Here is the turning-point of the play: which has the peculiarity of combining an element of the Satyric Drama {or Burlesque) with Tragedy, the combination anticipating the 'Action- Drama ' {or * Tragi- Comedy ' ) of modern times. Accord- c 60 61 ingfy the costume and mask of Hercules are compounded of his conven- tional appearance in Tragedy^ in which he is conceived as the perfection of physical strength toiling and suffering for mankind^ and his conven- tional appearance in Satyric plays as the gigantic feeder^ etc. The two are harmonized in the conception of conscious energy rejoicing in itself and plunging with equal eagerness into duty and relaxation y while each lasts. Hercules hails the Chorus and enquires for Admetus. They reply that he is within the Palace, and [shrinking, like all Greeks, from being the first to tell evil tidings] turn the conversation by enquiring what brings the Demi- god to Pherae — in stichomuthic dialogue it is brought out that Hercules is on his way to one of his * Labors ' — that of the Thracian Steeds ; and (so lightly does the thought of toil sit on him) it appears he has not troubled to enquire what the task meant : from the Chorus he learns for the first time the many dangers before him, and how the Steeds are devourers of human flesh. Here. A toil you tell of that well fits my fate. My life of hardship, ever struggling upward. 517 Admetus now appears, in mourning garb : after first salutations between the two friends, Hercules enquires what his trouble is, which gives scope for a favorite effect in Greek Drama — * dissimulation.' Here. Why are thy locks in sign of mourning shorn? Adm. 'Tis for one dead, whom I to-day must bury. Here. The Gods avert thy mourning for a child ! Adm. My children, what I had, live in my house. Here. Thy aged father, haply he is gone. Adm. My father lives, and she that bore me lives. Here. Lies then thy wife Alcestis mongst the dead? Adm. Of her I have in double wise to speak. Here. As of the living speakst thou, or the dead? Adm. She is, and is no more : this grief afflicts me. Here. This gives no information : dark thy words. Adm. Knowst thou not then the destiny assign 'd her? Here. I know that she submits to die for thee. Adm. To this assenting is she not no more? Here. Lament her not too soon : await the time. Adm. She's dead : one soon to die is now no more. Here. It differs wide to be, and not to be. Adm. Such are thy sentiments, far other mine. Here. But wherefore are thy tears? What man is dead? Adm. A woman : of a woman I made mention. Here, Of foreign birth, or one allied to thee ? Adm. Of foreign birth, but to my home most dear. 530 540 550 Hercules is moving away for the purpose of seeking hospitality elsewhere : Admetus will not hear of it, and, when Hercules loudly protests, puts aside his opposition with the air of one whose authority in matters of hospitable rites is not to be disputed. He orders attendants to conducts Hercules to a distant quarter of the Palace, to spread a sumptuous feast, and bar fast the doors, lest the voice of woe should affect the feasting guest. When Her- cules is gone the Chorus are staggered by such a mastery of personal grief as this implies. But Admetus asks how could he let a guest depart from his house ? My affliction would not thus 575 Be less, but more unhospitable I. But why, the Chorus ask, conceal the truth?— His friend, answers Admetus would never have entered, had he known. Some may blame him, he con- tinues, but his house simply knows not how to do dishonor to a guest. — Admetus returns into the Palace, to his funeral preparations : the Chorus are moved to enthusiasm by this forgetfulness of self in hospitable devo- tion ; their enthusiasm breaks out in an Ode celebrating the glories of their king's hospitality in the past, and ending in a gleam of hope that it may yet do something for him in the future. 588 CHORAL INTERLUDE III Evolutions J etc.^ as usual. Strophe I O liberal house ! with princely state 589 To many a stranger, many a guest, Oft hast thou oped thy friendly gate, Oft spread the hospitable feast. Beneath thy roof Apollo deign'd to dwell. Here strung his silver-sounding shell. And, mixing with thy menial train, Deigned to be called the shepherd of the plain : And as he drove his flocks along. Whether the winding vale they rove. Or linger in the upland grove. He tuned the pastoral pipe, or rural song. Antistrophe Delighted with his tuneful lay, 601 No more the savage thirsts for blood ; Amidst the flocks, in harmless play. Wantons the lynx's spotted brood ; Pleas'd from his lair on Othrys' rugged brow The lion seeks the vale below : Whilst to the lyre's melodious sound The dappled hinds in sportive measures bound ; And as the vocal eclio rings. Lightly their nimble feet they ply. Leaving their pine-clad forests high, Charm'd by the sweet notes of his gladdening strings. Strophe 11 Hence is thy house, Admetus, graced With all that plenty's hand bestows ; Near the sweet-streaming current placed. That from the lake of Boebia flows ; Far towards the shades of night thy wide domain. Rich-pastured mead and cultured plain. Extends, to those Molossian meads Where the sun stations his unharnessed steeds ; And stretching towards his eastern ray, Where Pelion, rising in his pride. Frowns o'er th' i^gean's portless tide : Reaches from sea to sea thy ample sway. Atitistrophe And thou wilt ope thy gate e'en now, 625 E'en now wilt thou receive this guest ; 62 Though from thine eye the warm tear flow, Though sorrow rend thy suffering breast, Sad tribute to thy wife, who, new in death, Lamented lies thy roof beneath ! Nature in truth has thus decreed : The pure soul must bear fruit of reverent deed. Lo, all the pow'r of wisdom lies Fix'd in the righteous bosom : hence Rests in my soul this confidence — The good shall yet safe from their trials rise. EPISODE III 636 The Central Gates open and the Funeral Procession slowly files out and begins to fill the Stage. Admetus beside the bier of Alcestis is calling on the Chorus (as representing the citizens of Pherse) to join in the invocations to the dead — when suddenly another Procession appears on the Stage [entering by the Right Side-door y as from the immediate neighborhood^ : it is headed by the father and mother of Admetus ^ both of whom have reached the furthest verge of old age, and who with difficulty totter along , while attendants follow them bearing sumptuous drapery and other funeral gifts. The scene settles down into the * Forensic Contest^ a fixed feature of every Greek Tragedy , in which the * case ' of the hero and the opposition to it are brought out with all the formality of a judicial process, the long rheses representing advocates^ speeches, the stichomuthic dialogue suggesting cross- examination ^ and the Chorus interposing as moderators. Pheres in the tone of conventional consolation speaks of the virtues of the dead, and the special virtue of Alcestis's sacrifice, which has saved her husband's life, and himself from a childless old age ; it is meet then that he should do honor to the corpse. Attendants of Admetus advance to receive the presents : Admetus waves them back and stands coldly confronting his father. At last he speaks. His father is an uninvited guest at this funeral feast, and unwelcome : the dead shall never be arrayed in his gifts, Then was the time for his father to show kindness when a life was demanded : and yet he could stand aloof and let a younger die ! He will never believe himself the son of so a mean and abject a soul. At such an age, just trembling on the verge 677 Of life, thou would'st not, nay, thou dared'st not die For thine own son ; but thou couldst suffer her. Though sprung from foreign blood : with justice then Her only as my father must I deem. Her only as my mother. Yet this course Mightst thou have run with glory, for thy son Daring to die ; brief was the space of life That could remain to thee : I then had lived My destin'd time, she too had lived. Yet Pheres had already had his share of all that makes life happy : a youth amid royal luxury, a prosperous reign, a son to inherit his state and who ever did him honor. But let him beget him new sons to cherish his age and attend him in death : Admetus's hand shall never do such offices for him. And this is all that comes of old age's longing for death : let death show itself, and the old complaints of life are all silenced I 63 Cho. Forbear ! Enough the present weight of woe : My son, exasperate not a father's mind. 710 To this long rhesis Pheres answers in a set speech of similar length. Is he a slave to be so rated by his own son ? And for what ? He has given his son birth and nurture, he has already handed over to him a kingdom and will bequeath him yet more wide lands : all that fathers owe to sons he gives. What new obligation is this for Greece to submit to, that a father should die for his son ? Is it a joy to thee 730 To view the light of heaven, and dost thou think Thy father joys not in it ? Long I deem Our time in death's dark regions : short the space Of life, yet sweet ! So thought thy coward heart And struggled not to die : and thou dost live, Passing the bounds of life assign'd by fate. By killing her! My mean and abject spirit Dost thou rebuke, O timidest of all, Vanquish'd e'en by a woman, her who gave For thee, her young fair husband, her own life ! 740 A fine device that thou mightst never die, Couldst thou persuade — who at the time might be Thy wife — to die for thee ! If such a man takes to heaping reproaches on his own kin he shall at least hear the truth told him to his face ! Cho. Too much of ill already hath been spoken : Forbear, old man, nor thus revile thy son. 750 Admetus says if done the wrong Pher. Adm. Pher. Adm. Pher. Adm. Pher. Adm. Pher. Adm. Pher. Adm. Pher. Adm. Pher. Adm. Pher. Adm. Pher. Adm. Pher. Adm, his father does not like to hear the truth he should not have I Had I died for thee, greater were the wrong. Is death alike then to the young and old ? Man's due is one life, not to borrow more. Thine drag thou on and out-tire heaven's age ! Darest thou to curse thy parents, nothing wrong'd ? Parents in dotage lusting still to live ! 760 And thou — what else but life with this corpse buyest ? This corpse — the symbol of thy infamy ! For us she died not : that thou canst not say ! Ah ! mayst thou some time come to need my aid 1 Wed many wives that more may die for thee ! On thee rests this reproach — thou daredst not die ! Sweet is this light of heav'n ! sweet is this light ! Base is thy thought, unworthy of a man ! The triumph is not thine to entomb my age. Die when thou wilt, inglorious wilt thou die. 770 Thy ill report will not affect me dead. Alas, that age should outlive sense of shame ! But lack of age's wisdom slew her youth. Begone, and suffer me to entomb my dead. I go : no fitter burier than thyself Her murderer ! Look for reckoning from her friends : Acastus is no man, if his hand fails Dearly to avenge on thee his sister's blood. Why, get you gone, thou and thy worthy wife : 6i Grow old in consort — that is now yo\a lot — 780 The childless parents of a living son : For never more under one common roof Come you and I together : had it needed, By herald I your hearth would have renounced. Pheres and his train withdraw along the Stage [to the Right Side- door]. The interrupted Funeral Procession is c&ntimted^ filings amidst lamentations of the Chorus^ down the steps from the Stage into the Orches- tra: there the Chorus join it and the whole passes out [^ the Right Archway] to the royal sepulchre in the neighbourhood. Stage and Orchestra both vacant for a while, STAGE EPISODE* Enter the Stage [by one of the Inferior Doors of the Palace] the Steward of Admetus: he has stolen away to get a moment's respite from the hateful hilarity of this strange visitor — some ruffian or robber he supposes — on whom his office has condemned him to wait, and thereby to miss paying the last offices to a mistress who has been more like a mother to him. The guest has been willing to enter, and though he saw the mourning of the household, he did not allow it to make any difference to his mirth ; Grasping in his hands 804 A goblet wreath'd with ivy, fill'd it high With the grape's purple juice, and quaff'd it off Untemper'd, till the glowing wine inflamed him ; Then binding round his head a myrtle wreath. Howls dismal discord : — two unpleasing strains "We heard, his harsh notes who in nought revered Th' afflictions of Admetus, and the voice Of sorrow through the family that wept Our mistress. Yet our tearful eyes we showed not, Admetus so commanded, to the guest. 814 He starts as he feels on his shoulder the huge hand of Hercules^ who has followed him, and now appears on the Stage goblet in hand^ wreathed and attired likt a reveller in full revel, Hercules good-humouredly scolds him for letting a remote family bereavement hinder him from showing a sociable countenance to his lord's guest. He lectures him on the easy ethics of the banquet -hour: Come hither, that thou mayst be wiser, friend : 832 Knowst thou the nature of all mortal things ? Not thou, I ween : how shouldst thou ? hear from me. By all of human race death is a debt That must be paid ; and none of mortal men Knows whether till to-morrow life's short space Shall be extended : such the dark events Of fortune, never to be leam'd or traced By any skill. Instructed thus by me 840 Bid pleasure welcome, drink ; the life allow'd From day to day esteem thine own ; all else Fortime's. 6S The Steward receives his lecture with a bad grace : he knows all that — ^but there is a time for all things. His manner raises Hercules' suspicions that Admetus has been keeping something back : Here, Is it some sorrow which he told not me ? 866 Stew, Go thou with joy : ours are our lord's afflictions. Here. These are not words that speak a foreign loss. Stew, If such, thy revelry had not displeased me. The secret is not long kept against the questioning of Hercules. When the truth comes out Hercules drops the goblet : he might have known all from so grief-worn a face ! All the lightness of the reveller disappears, and the godlike bearing returns to Hercules' figure as he catches the full dignity of his friend's hospitable feat : he is fired to essay a rival deed of nobility. Now, my firm heart, and thou, my daring soul, Show what a son the daughter of Electryon, Alcmena of Tirynthia, bore to Jove ! This lady, new in death, behoves me save, And, to Admetus rendering grateful service. Restore his lost Alcestis to his house. This sable- vested tyrant of the dead Mine cN-c iit^ vk'AUh» ftoc witLoat hope to find Drinking th* oblatiow niftb tbt lomb. II once Seen from my secret st^iul 1 ntsii upon hiai* The$>« arms sihill grjisp hia till \a% panting >kl(« Labc'jr for brc alh ; vtiA who shall lorae hoi froA Till he ^V9tx t)*ck this wyDmnn \ 894 906 «»« % Meat eioW on wpoa cW -« '*mj nM the i!*fk wodd of spirits itself, rather thnn f.ntl in making 4 fit retifii to his friend s Whose iMMfxiUblc heut 9^^ Recch-^d me in hti wHiie, nor mitAt excuse Thoxij;li picrc'd with SAich ft fp^i ; this he concealed Thresh frencTous thoBjcht, aad re vcrvnce to his friead* Who iti 'nw»Milin hcxTii a warmer Utvc To strangers ? Who. through all the renlms ol Greece ? It never shall bt »id ihiat noble man Recci^xd tu aae a base aad worthless wretch ! Exit [through the Sta^f Ri^kt Sidlf-l>fpr] m tJkr diretiim ^theSm^» Stage und Or^Amra tt^Mtt fir awAHe, EPISODE V Return of the fkimmt Pre>eeisiM, headed^ the Chc>rw vr^ rh main in the Orehettra : (M4 rext fiU uf the steps x is founel : his heart Is In tNeIr dark housesy whcfe he ha* placed a loved hostage torn from hiai by late ■ 93« 66 in ^ir^' ^'^ Strophel Nevertheless he must go forward ; he must hide him m die deepest recesses of his Palace with his grief, the helpless ^roa^ that yet will nothing aid her whom he will never see more ! ^ ^938 Admetus cries that that is the deepest wound of all ! Would he had fn J'' "".f^^^ ' ^° °^°T ^^"^^^ '' P^i" ^"durable : to see chXn wast bo^nr?' ^^Jr^'^l^t^'h^'"'' is resistless : shall sorrow then have'no Dounas r utner men have known what it is to \n 9 «,if« . or,^ ;^ other of im.u„.erable for»s misery has fou^d^lreve^'Ion'o/Toram;: Admetus begins to speak of the life-long mournine for the Io.;f h,„ thf &t;\rseTto^^^^^^ him"brcJ':h:fhi^^^^^^^ have cast himself into the gaping tomb, and gone the last journey with his TAe Chorus [in Strophe] think of one they knew who lost a son in?he flower of his age. an only son and well worthy of tears yet he bore his !ngte r^d" '"^^ " "'"• and-courage ! his hJir is white J^d he is nea" ihf'^TnJ^'nl Tf ""J"^ '''^' ^""^^^1 '^"^ '^' Procession advances towards the portal', bu the contrast catches his thought between this and' another procession towards the same threshhold,^ when. Tmidst blazlne torches of Pelian pme and bridal dances, he led h s new wif^bv the h«nf and shouts wished their union happy. ' Now wails "'7 Thouts^ bkc^^^^^^ glistening raiment, and before him the solitary chamber ! 983 Chorus [in Antistrophe\ Trouble has come upon their master all at once, n the midst of prosperity, and on one unschooled in misfortune. But if the wife is gone the love is left. Many have had Admetus's loss : but his gain let him remember : a rescued life. 'gg As if this jarred upon his mind, Admetus turns round and addresses the Chorus, his whole tone changed [the dirge measures giving i>lace to blank verse]. My friends, I deem the fortune of my wife Happier than mine, though otherwise it seems. 990 For nevermore shall sorrow touch her breast. And she with glory rests from various ills. But I, who ought not live, my destined hour O'erpassing, shall drag on a mournful life. Late taught what sorrow is. How shall I bear To enter here ? To whom shall I address My speech ? Whose greeting renders my return Delightful ? Which way shall I turn ? Within In lonely sorrow shall I waste away. As, widowed of my wife, I see my couch, 1000 The seats deserted where she sat, the rooms Wanting her elegance. Around my knees My children hang, and weep their mother lost : The household servants for their mistress sigh. This is the scene of misery in my home : Abroad the nuptials of Thessalia's youth And the bright circles of assembled dames Will but augment my grief : how shall I bear To see the lov'd companions of my wife ! And if one hates me, he will say : Behold loio The man who basely lives, who dared not die. Adm. / 67 But giving, through the meanness of his soul, His wife, avoided death— yet would be deem'd A man : he hates his parents, yet himself Had not the spirit to die. These ill reports Cleave to me : why then wish for longer life, On evil tongues thus fallen, and evil days ! Admetus sinks down on the threshhold and buries his face in his robe. The Chorus gather up the feeling of the situation in a full Choral Ode, celebrat- ing the natural topics of consolation ; the stem laws of Necessity, the fair memory of the dead. CHORAL INTERLUDE IV Strophe I My venturous foot delights To tread the Muses' arduous heights ; Their hallow'd haunts I love t' explore. And listen to their lore : Yet never could my searching mind Aught, like Necessity, resistless find. No herb of sovereign pow'r to save. Whose virtues Orpheus joy'd to trace, And wrote them in the rolls of Thrace ; Nor all that Phoebus gave. Instructing the Asclepian train. When various ills the human frame assail. To heal the wound, to soothe the pain, 'Gainst Her stern force avail. Antistrophe Of all the Pow'rs Divine Alone none dares t' approach Her shrine ; To Her no hallow'd image stands, No altar She commands. In vain the victim's blood would flow, She never deigns to hear the suppliant's vow. Never to me mayst Thou appear. Dread Goddess, with severer mien Than oft in life's past tranquil scene Thou hast been known to wear. By Thee Jove works his stern behest ; Thy force subdues e'en Scythia's stubborn steel ; Nor ever does Thy rugged breast The touch of pity feel. Strophe 11 And now, with ruin pleas 'd. On thee, O King, her hands have seiz'd. And bound thee in her iron chain : Yet her fell force sustain. For from the gloomy realms of night No tears recall the dead to life's sweet light. No virtue, though to heav'n allied, Saves from the inevitable doom : Heroes and sons of gods have died. And sunk into the tomb. Dear, whilst our eyes her presence blest, 1018 1032 1046 / 68 Dear, in the gloomy mansions of the dead : Most generous she, the noblest, best. Who graced thy nuptial bed. Antistrophe Thy wife's sepulchral mound 1060 Deem not as common, worthless ground That swells their breathless bodies o'er Who die, and are no more. No, be it honor'd as a shrine ; Raised high, and hallow'd to some Pow'r Divine : The traveller, as he passes by, Shall thither bend his devious way, With reverence gaze, and with a sigh. Smite on his breast, and say : "She died of old to save her lord ; Now blest among the blest ; Hail, Pow'r revered, To us thy wonted grace afford ! " Such vows shall be preferred. EXODUS OR FINALE Re-enter Hercules^ leading a veiled woman Here. I would speak freely to my friend, Admetus, Nor what I blame keep secret in my breast. I came to thee amidst thy ills, and thought I had been worthy to be proved thy friend. Thou told'st me not the obsequies prepared 1080 Were for thy wife ; but in thy house receiv'dst me As if thou griev'dst for one of foreign birth. I bound my head with garlands, to the gods Pouring libations in thy house with grief Oppress'd. I blame this : yes, in such a state I blame this : yet I come not in thine ills To give thee pain ; why I return in brief Will I unfold. This woman from my hands Receive to thy protection, till return'd I bring the Thracian steeds, having there slain 1090 The proud Bistonian tyrant ; should I fail — Be that mischance not mine, for much I wish Safe to revisit thee — yet should I fail, I give her to the safeguard of thy house. For with much toil she came unto my hands. To such as dare contend some public games. Which well deserv'd my toil, I find propos'd ; I bring her thence, she is the prize of conquest : For slight assays each victor led away A courser ; but for those of harder proof noo The conqueror was rewarded from the herd, And with some female graced ; victorious there, A prize so noble it were base to slight. Take her to thy protection, not by stealth Obtain'd, but the reward of many toils: The time, perchance, may come when thou will thank me. Adm, Not that I slight thy friendship, or esteem thee Other than noble, wished I to conceal Chor. Here, Adm. Here, Adm. Here, Adm. Here. Adm. Here. Adm. Here. Adm. Here, Adm. Here, Adm, Here. 69 My wife's unhappy fate ; but to my grief It had been added grief, if thou had'st sought mo Elsewhere the rites of hospitality ; Suffice it that I mourn ills which are mine. This woman, if it may be, give in charge, I beg thee, king, to some Thessalian else, That hath not cause like me to grieve ; in Pherse Thou may'st find many friends ; call not my woes Fresh to my memory ; never in my house Could I behold her, but my tears would flow : To sorrow add not sorrow ; now enough I sink beneath its weight. Where should her youth 1120 With me be guarded ? for her gorgeous vests Proclaim her young; if mixing with the men She dwell beneath my roof, how shall her fame, Conversing with the youths, be kept unsullied ? It is not easy to restrain the warmth Of that intemperate age ; my care for thee Warns me of this. Or if from them remov'd I hide her in th' apartments late my wife's. How to my bed admit her ? I should fear A double blame : my citizens would scorn me 1130 As light and faithless to the kindest wife That died for me, if to her bed I took Another blooming bride ; and to the dead Behoves me pay the highest reverence Due to her merit. And thou, lady, know, Whoe'er thou art, that form, that shape, that air Resembles my Alcestis ! By the Gods, Remove her from my sight ! it is too much, I cannot bear it ; when I look on her, Methinks I see my wife ; this wounds my heart 1140 And calls the tears fresh gushing from my eyes. This is the bitterness of grief indeed I I cannot praise thy fortune ; but behoves thee To bear with firmness what the gods assign. that from Jove I had the pow'r to bring Back from the mansions of the dead thy wife To heav'n's fair light, that grace achieving for thee ! 1 know thy friendly will; but how can this Be done ? The dead return not to this light. Check then thy swelling griefs ; with reason rule them. 11 50 How easy to advise, but hard to bear 1 What should it profit should'st thou always groan ? I know it; but I am in love with grief. Love to the dead calls forth the ceaseless tear. O, I am wretched more than words can speak. A good wife hast thou lost, who can gainsay it ? Never can life be pleasant to me more. Thy sorrow now is new ; time will abate it Time say'st thou ? Yes, the time that brings me death. Some young and lovely bride will bid it cease. 1160 No more : What say'st thou ? Never could I think — Will thou still lead a lonely widow'd life ? Never shall other women share my bed. And think'st thou this will aught avail the dead ? 70 71 Adm. Here. Adm. Here. Adm. Here. Adm. Here. Adm. Here. Adm. Here. Adm. Here. Adm. Here. Adm. Here. Adm. Here. Adm. Here. Adm. Here. Adm. Here. Adm. Here. Adm. Here, Adm. Here^ Adm. Here. Adm. Here. Adm. Here. Adm. Here. Adm. Here. Adm. Here. Adm. This honor is her due, where'er she be. This hath my praise, though near allied to frenzy. Praise me or not, I ne'er will wed again. I praise thee that thou'rt faithful to thy wife. Though dead, if I betray her, may I die ! Well, take this noble lady to thy house. No, by thy father Jove, let me entreat thee. Not to do this would be the greatest wrong. To do it would with anguish rend my heart. Let me prevail ; this grace may find its meed. that thou never had'st receiv'd this prize I Yet in my victory thou art victor with me. 'Tis nobly said : yet let this woman go. If she must go, she shall ! but must she go ? She must, if I incur not thy displeasure. There is a cause that prompts my earnestness. Thou hast prevail'd, but much against my will. The time will come when thou wilt thank me for it. Well, if I must receive her, lead her in. Charge servants with her ! No, that must not be. Lead her thyself, then, if thy will incline thee. No, to thy hand alone will I commit her. 1 touch her not ; but she hath leave to enter. I shall entrust her only to thy hand. Thou dost constrain me, king, against my will. Venture to stretch thy hand, and touch the stranger's. I touch her, as I would the headless Gorgon. Hast thou her hand ? I have. {lifting the veil ) Then hold her safe. Hereafter thou wilt say the son of Jove Hath been a generous guest ; view now her face, See if she bears resemblance to thy wife, And thus made happy bid farewell to grief. O, Gods, what shall 1 say ? 'Tis marvelous. Exceeding hope. See I my wife indeed ? Or doth some God distract me with false joy ? In very deed dost thou behold thy wife. See that it be no phantom from beneath. Make not thy friend one that evokes the shades. And do I see my wife, whom I entomb'd ? I marvel not that thou art diffident. I touch her ; may I speak to her as living ? Speak to her : thou hast all thy heart could wish. Dearest of women, do I see again That face, that person ? This exceeds all hope ; I never thought that I should see thee more. Thou hast her; may no God be envious of thee. be thou blest, thou generous son of Jove I Thy father's might protect thee ! Thou alone Hast rais'd her to me ; from the realms below How hast thou brought her to the light of life ? 1 fought with him that lords it o'er the shades. Where with the gloomy tyrant didst thou fight ? I lay in wait and seized him at the tomb. But wherefore doth my wife thus speechless stand ? 1 170 1 180 1 190 Here, It is not yet permitted* that thou hear Her voice addressing thee, till from the Gods That rule beneath she be unsanctified With hallow'd rites, and the third mom return. But lead her in ; and as thou'rt just in all Besides, Admetus, see thou reverence strangers. Farewell : I go t' achieve the destined toil For the imperial son of Sthenelus. Adm. Abide with us, and share my friendly hearth. Here. That time will come again ; this demands speed. Adm. Success attend thee : safe may'st thou return. Now to my citizens I give in charge. And to each chief, that for this blest event They institute the dance ; let the steer bleed, And the rich altars, as they pay their vows, Breathe incense to the gods ; for now I rise To better life, and grateful own the blessing. The Chorus, Retiring : Our fates the Gods in various shapes dispose : Heaven sets the crown on many a hopeless cause : That which is looked for Fails in the issue. To goals unexpected Heav'n points out a passage : And this is the end of the matter. 1220 1230 1236 1200 1210 * The fact was that the Alcestis was represented in place of a * Satyric Drama,' which only allowed two (speaking) personages on the Stage at the same time. 72 73 \ THE CYCLOPS OF EURIPIDES A SPECIMEN OF THE SATYRIC DRAMA Scene: Sicily, in front of cave of the Cyclops, Polyphemus. Prologue by Silenus, the rural demi-god, who recounts his faithful service to Bacchus, and yet the ungrateful god has let himself and his children fall mto this slavery to the horrid Cyclops Polyphemus, where, worst of their many woes, they are debarred from the wine they worship. P.^r^d'-?,- The Chorus of Satyrs driving their goats and lamenting how difterent this from the merry service of Bacchus. Episode I. Silenus hurries back with the news that a ship is approaching to water m the island : fresh victims for the monster. Enter Ulysses and fr^.- mutual explanations, all couched in * burlesque ' tone. The mariners have had no food except flesh, and gladly partake milk and fruits of the batyrs, affording in return to Silenus the long-lost luxury of wine : the scene then going on to paint [with the utmost coarseness] the oncoming of drunkenness. ° Suddenly enter Polyphemus: Ulysses and the crew hide. After some rough bandying between the Monster and the Chorus, the strangers are dis- covered : and Silenus, to save himself, turns traitor, and tells Polyphemus how they have beaten him because he would not let them steal, also what dire woes they were going to work upon Polyphemus. In spite of their pro- tests Silenus IS believed : Ulysses promises, if set free, to erect shrines in Oreece for the Cyclops, besides dwelling upon the impiety of attacking mnocent strangers : Polyphemus replies that he does not care for shrinef, and as for impiety he is independent of Zeus ; which gives occasion for a glonfication of the life of nature. They are driven into the cave to be fed on at leisure. Choral Ode: General disgust at the monster. Episode II. Ulysses [apparently standing at the mouth of the cavel descnbes Polyphemus gorging— then details his plan of deliverance by aid of the wine. "^ Choral Ode. Lyric delight of Chorus at prospect of deliverance. Episode III. The Cyclops appears sated with his banquet, and settling down to this new treat of drinking— the effects of on-coming intoxication are painted again in Polyphemus, with the usual coarseness— a farcical climax being reached when the monster begins to be affectionate to his cup-bearer, old Silenus, in memory of Zeus and his famous cup-bearer, Ganymede. Choral Ode. Anticipation of Revenge. Exodus. The plan of Revenge, the boring out of the Cyclops's one eye while overpowered with drink, is carried out— various farcical effects by the way, e.g., the Chorus drawing back with excuses and leaving Ulysses to do the deed at the critical moment. The Drama ends with the Monster's rage and vain attempts to catch the culprit, Ulysses putting him off with his feigned name * No man ': thus all are delivered. THE BACCHANALS OF EURIPIDES* PROLOGUE The permanent scene covered by movable scenery representing a wide landscape — the valley of the Dirce. A pile of buildings occupies the middle, to which the central entrance is an approach: these are the Cadmeia and royal palaces. That on the left is the palace of Pentheus^ and further to the left is the mystic scene of Bacchus' s birth — a heap of ruins, still mir- aculously smouldering, and covered by trailing vines. On the right is the palace of Cadmus, and the scene extends to take in the Electran gate of Thebes, and {on the right turn-scene) the slopes of Cithceron, Dionysus enters, in mortal guise, through the distance archway, and (in formal prologue) opens the situation. He brings out the points of the land- scape before him, dear as the site of his miraculous birth and the sad end of his mortal mother. Then he details the Asiatic realms through which he has made triumphant progress, Lydia, Phrygia, sun-seared Persia, Bactria ; the wild, wintry Median land ; Araby the Blest, and the cities by the sea ; everywhere his orgies accepted and his godhead received. Now for the first time he has reached an Hellenic city : and here — where least it should have been — his divinity is questioned by his own mother's sisters who make the story of his birth a false rumor, devised to cover Semele's shame, and avenged by the lightning flash which destroyed her. To punish his un- natural kin he has infected all their womenkind with his sacred phrensy, and maddened out of their quiet life, they are now on the revel under the pale pines of the mountain, unseemly mingled with the sons of Thebes : so shall the recusant city learn her guilt, and make atonement to him and his mother. Pentheus, it seems, is the main foe of his godhead, who reigns as king over Thebes, the aged Cadmus having yielded the sovereignty in his lifetime to his sister's son : he repels Bacchus from the sacred libations, nor names him in prayer. So he and Thebes must learn a dread lesson, and then away to make revelation in other lands. As to force, if attempt is made to drive the Maenads from the mountains, Bacchus himself will mingle in the war, and for this he has assumed mortal shape. He calls upon his * Thyasus of women,' fellow-pilgrims from the lands beyond the sea, to beat their Phrygian drums in noisy ritual about the pal- ace of Pentheus till all Thebes shall flock to hear : he goes to join his wor- shippers on Cithaeron. yg PARODE OR CHORUS-ENTRY The Chorus enter the orchestra, Asiatic women in wild attire of Bacchic rites, especially the motley {dappled fawnskin) always associated with abandon: they move with wild gestures and dances associated with Asiatic rituals. The wild ode resumes the joyous dance that has made their whole way from Asia one long sacred revel — Toilless toil and labour sweet. Blest above all men he who hallows his life in such mystic rites, and puri- fied with holiest waters, goes dancing with the worshippers of Bacchus, and ♦The quotations are from Milman's translation in Routledge's Universal Libraiy. 74 of thee, mighty Mother Cybele, shaking his thyrsus, and all his locks crowned with ivy. Bacchus's birth is sung, and how from the flashing lightning Jove snatched him and, preserved in his thigh, until at the fated hour he gave him to light, homed and crowned with serpents. Wherefore should Thebes, sacred scene of the miracle, be one blossom of revellers, clad in motley and waving the thyrsus, the whole land maddening with the dance. The Chorus think of the first origin of such noisy joys, when the wild ones of Crete beat their cymbals round the sunless caverns where the infant Jove was hidden, and these rites of Rhoea soon mingled for the frantic Satyrs with the third year's dances to Bacchus. Then the ode re- curs to the bliss of such holy rites, luxurious interchange of wild energy and delicious re|X)se. They long for the climax of the dance, when, with luxu- riant hair all floating, they can rage and madden to the clash of heavy cym- bals and the shout Evoe, Evoe, frisking like colts to the soft breathing of the holy pipe, while the mountain echoes beneath their boundings. 178 EPISODE I The blind prophet Teiresias enters from Thebes, and is soon joined by Cadmus from the palace. Old as they are they have put on the livery of the god, and will join in the dance, for which supernatural strength will be given : they alone of the city are wise. The ancestral faith, coeval with our race. No subtle reasoning, if it soar aloft Ev'n to the height of wisdom, can o'erthrow. They are stopped by the entrance of Pentheus, as from a far journey. His opening words betray his anxiety as to the scandal in his realm — the young women of his family, even his mother Agave, all gone to join the impious revels. In pretext, holy sacrificing Maenads, But serving Aphrodite more than Bacchus. Some he has imprisoned, the rest he will hunt from the mountains, and put an end to the joyous movements of this fair stranger with golden locks, who has come to guide their maidens to soft inebriate rites. Suddenly he sees his hero ancestor and the prophet in Bacchic attire. Bitter reproaches follow ; the scene soon settling down into the forensic contest. Teiresias elaborately puts the case for the god. Man has two primal needs : one is the solid food of the boon mother, the other has been discovered by the son of their Semele — the rich grape's juice : this beguiles the miserable of their sorrow, this gives all-healing sleep. The author of such blessings is recog- nized in heaven as a god : yet Pentheus puts scorn upon him by the story of the babe hidden in Jove's thigh. [This is explained away by a play upon words, as between Ao meeros, thigh, and Aomeeros, a hostage ; Jove hid the infant god in a cleft of air, a hostage from the wrath of Her^.] Proph- ecy is ascribed to the wine-god, for phrensy is prophetic ; and he is an ally in war, sending panic on the foe ere lance crosses lance. He will soon be a god celebrated through all Greece and hold torchdance on the crags of Delphi. Let Thebes take her place among the worshippers, fearing nought for the purity of its daughters, who will be no less holy in the revel than at home. — The Chorus approve, and Cadmus follows on the same side, urging policy : a splendid falsehood making Semele the mother of a god will ad- vance their household. Pentheus shakes off Cadmus's clasp in disgust : bids some of his servants go and overturn the prophet's place of divination, and others seek out the stranger who leads the rebels. Exit to the palace, while Teiresias and Cadmus depart, in horror at his impiety, in the direction of Cithseron. 379 75 CHORAL INTERLUDE I Shocked at such defiance of heaven the Chorus invoke Sanctity, crowned as goddess in the nether world, to hear the awful words of Pentheus, uttered against the immortal son of Semele, first and best of gods, ruler of the flower-crowned feast, and the dance's jocund strife, and the laughter, and the sparkling wine-cup, and the sweet sleep that follows the festival. Sorrow closes the lot of such aweless, unbridled madness : stability is for the calmly reverent life, knitting whole houses in sweet domestic harmony. Clasp the present of brief life : no grasping after a bright future with far- fetched wisdom. Oh, for the lands where the graces and sweet desire have their haunts, and young loves soothe the heart with tender guile : fit regions for the Bacchanals, whose joy is Peace— wealth-giver to rich and poor. Away with stem austerity : hail the homely wisdom of the multitude. 439 EPISODE II An officer brings in Dionysus as prisoner : he has yielded himself without resistance, while as for the imprisoned worshippers their chains have fallen off spontaneous, and they are away to the revels on the mountains. In long-drawn parallel dialogue Pentheus questions the Stranger— struck with his beauty through he be. Dionysus calmly answers to every point, but allows the orgies are secret and must not be revealed to the uninitiated. The King threatens in vain. Pen. First I will clip away those soft bright locks. I>io. My locks are holy, dedicate to my god. Fen. Next, give thou me that thyrsus in thy hand. Dto. Take it thyself ; 'tis Dionysus' wand. Pen. I'll bind thy body in strong iron chains. Z>w. My god himself will loose them when he will. Pen. When thou invok'st him 'mid thy Bacchanals. Dto. Even now he is present, he beholds me now. Pen. Where is he then ? mine eyes perceive him not. £>io. Near me : the impious eyes may not discem him. The king relies on his superior strength. Dio. Thou knowest not where thou art or what thou art. Pen. Pentheus, Agave's son, my sire Echion. Dio. Thou hast a name whose very sound is woe. Dionysus is removed a prisoner to the palace of Pentheus, while the latter retires to prepare measures against the Maenads. CHORAL INTERLUDE II The Chorus, addressing the landscape before them, expostulate with the sacred stream in which the infant god was dipped for not accepting the divinity whose mystic name is * Twice-born.' They call upon Dionysus to see them from Olympus, his rapt prophets at strife with dark necessity, and, golden wand in hand, to come to their rescue against the threats of the proud dragon-brood. They are wondering what fair land of song may be holding their sacred leader, when cries from within put an end to the ode. 582 EPISODE III In wild lyric snatches shouts are interchanged between Dionysus within and groups of the disordered Chorus, bringing crut the tumultuous scene — the earth rocking beneath them, sounds of crashing masonry, capitals of pillars hurled through the air : then 6y the machinery of the hemicyclium the whole scene left of the center disappears and is replaced by a tableau represent- 76 ing Pentheus' palace in ruins, and the smoldering tomb of Semele surmounted by bright flame. From the ruins steps Dionysus^ unharmed and free^ the metre braking into accelerated rhythm. 613 Die. O, ye Barbarian women, Thus prostrate in dismay ; Upon the earth ye've fallen ! See ye not as ye may, How Bacchus Pentheus' palace In wrath hath shaken down ? Rise up ! rise up ! take courage — Shake o£f that trembling swoon. Chor. O light that goodliest shinest Over our mystic rite, In state forlorn we saw thee — Saw with what deep affright ! Die. How to despair ye yielded As I boldly entered in To Pentheus, as if captured, into that fatal gin. Chor, How could I less ? Who guards us If thou shouldst come to woe ? But how wast thou delivered From thy ungodly foe ? Dio. Myself myself delivered With ease and effort slight. Chor. Thy hands had he not bound them In halters strong and tight ? Dio, 'Twas even then I mocked him : He thought me in his chain ; He touched me not nor reached me ; His idle thoughts were vain ! In the stable stood a heifer Where he thought he had me bound ; Round the beast's knees his cords And cloven hoofs he wound, Wrath-breathing, from his body The sweat fell like a flood, He bit his lips in fury. While I beside who stood Looked on in unmoved quiet. As at that instant come, Shook Bacchus the strong palace, And on his mother's tomb Flames kindled. When he saw it, on fire the palace deeming, Hither he rushed and thither. For * Water, water,' screaming ; And every slave 'gan labor. But labored all in vain. The toil he soon abandoned. As though I had fled amain He rushed into the palace : In his hand the dark sword gleamed. Then as it seemed, great Bromius — I say but, as it seemed — In the hall a bright light kindled. On that he rushed, and there, As slaying me in vengeance. Stood stabbing the thin air. But then the avenging Bacchus Wrought new calamities ; From roof to base that palace In smouldering ruin lies. Bitter ruing our imprisonment. With toil forespent he threw On earth his useless weapon. Mortal, he had dared to do 'Gainst a god unholy battle. But I, in quiet state,' Unheeding Pentheus' anger. Came through the palace gate. It seems even now his sandal Is sounding on its way ; Soon is he here before us. And what now will he say ? With ease will I confront him, Ire-breathing though he stand. *Tis easy to a wise man To practice self-command. 651 Blank verse is resumed as Pentheus enters, and meets his escaped prisoner who calmly confronts him. As Pentheus begins to threaten, Dionysus ad- vises him first to hear the messenger even now entering from Cithseron. An elaborate Messenger's Speech describes the miraculous life of the Msenads as they lie on the mountains, careless but not immodest. At the touch of their thyrsus the rock yields dew and the soil wine ; their fingers lightly scraping the soil draw streams of exquisite milk, and honey distils from their ivied staffs. A city-bred agitator stirred up the herdsmen to confront them, but the phrensied women drove the men before them, and tore the herds to pieces ; like a flock of birds they skimmed along the land, and all gave way before them. And what they threw across their shoulders, clung Unfastened, nor fell down to the black ground, 17 No brass, nor ponderous iron ; on their locks Was fire that burned them not. Then god-given fountains washed off the stains of their toil, and their ser- pents licked them clean. Even the Messenger advises submission to so mighty a god, dispensing such gifts. Pentheus breathes nothing but defiance, and issues orders for the whole military of Thebes to assemble. Yet he is bewildered by the stranger, who doing or suffering still holds his peace. In long-drawn parallel verses ^ Dionysus gradually assumes the friend, and — still warning the king that he ' is on the side of the god — insinuates into the mind of Pentheus the idea of visiting the scene, disguised in the feminine robes of the revellers. As the king retires to prepare, Dionysus proclaims that he is fallen into the net, and vengeance shall first deprive him of sense and then destroy him. 868 CHORAL INTERLUDE III As the crisis comes nearer the Chorus long for the moment of escape — the sensation of the hart that has leaped the net and with storm wind haste escaped the hunter's pursuit and reached the silent shadow of the old hospi- table wood. Victory is the joy of joys. Slow and true are the aveng- ing deities, with printless foot hounding the impious along their winding path : for law is old as oldest time. Victory is the joy of joys. Happy the sailor in port, he whose race is o'er : hopes hover over thousands, but Happiness alone is his That happy is to-day. 922 EPISODE IV Pentheus appears from the palace of Cadmus in disguise as a Maenad. Infatuation has become a phrensy : he sees double, Dionysus seems a bull, his eyes penetrate into distance and i>erceive his mother and her comrades. Unconscious of the laughter of Dionysus he adjusts his feminine dress and practices the Maenad step. Irony is added : Dio. Follow me ! thy preserver goes before thee ; Another takes thee hence. Pen. Mean'st thou my mother ? Dio. Aloft shalt thou be borne — Pen, O the soft carriage ! Dio. In thy mother's hands. Pen. Wilt make me thus luxurious ? Dio. Strange luxury, indeed ! Pen, 'Tis my desert. Exclaiming in ambiguous phrase as to the awful end to which he is destined, Dionysus leads the king out towards Cithaerou. 986 CHORAL INTERLUDE IV The crisis is come ! Ho, to the mountains ; where the Chorus picture the scene already being enacted, the hunter of the Bacchanals caught in the inexorable net of death. Vengeance on the lawless son of Echion is the recurrent burden of the ode. Its prayer is to hold fast the pious mind, the smooth painless life at peace with heaven and earth, instead of fighting with the invincible, aweless outcast from all law. 1036 EPISODE V A Messenger's Speech describes the catastrophe. How Pentheus, arrived within sight of the orderly Maenads, was not satisfied, but desired a higher 7^ station from which to view their unseemly life. Then a wonder: the stranger bent down an ash tree, and seating Pentheus in a fork of it let the tree return to its position, holding the wretched king aloft, seen of all. The stranger from our view had vanished quite. Then from the heavens a voice, as it should seem, Dionysus, shouted loud, " Behold, I brings O maidens, him that you and me, our rites, Our orgies laughed to scorn ; now take your vengeance." And as he spake, a light of holy fire Stood up, and blazed from earth straight up to heaven. Silent the air, silent the verdant grove Held its still leaves ; no sound of living thing. They, as their ears just caught the half-heard voice, Stood up erect, and rolled their wandering eyes. Again he shouted. But when Cadmus' daughters Heard manifest the god's awakening voice. Forth rushed they, fleeter than the winged dove, Their nimble feet quick coursing up and down. How then the Maenads set upon him and tore him to pieces, his own mother leading them on : in triumph dance they are bringing his head to the city. Adore the gods, IS the moral. Ii54 CHORAL INTERLUDE V A short outburst of triumph from the Chorus : then the ii8o EXODUS begms with the approach of the Maenads, Agave bearing her son's head on a thyrsus. In a brief lyric concerto between her and the mocking Chorus her phrensied triumph is brought out, and how she takes the bleeding object to be head of a young lion. At that moment the trumpet sounds, and the army that had been summoned appears at the Electran gate. Agave turns to them, and (in blank verse) calls all Thebans to behold the quarry she has taken without the useless weapons of the hunter ; it shall be nailed up a trophy before her father's house. Shortly after enters on the right a melancholy procession of Cadmus and his servants bearing the fragments of Pentheus' body^ with difficulty discovered and pieced together. In extended parallel dialogue between Cadmus and Evadne the phrensy gradually passes away from her and she recognizes the deed she has done. Cadmus sums up the final situation : all the house enwrapped in one dread doom. The Chorus sympathize with Cadmus, but have no pity for Agave. She then follows with a rhesis of woe, interrupted by 1365 DIVINE INTERVENTION Dionysus appears aloft, in divine form. The MSS. are defective here : from what we have the god appears to be painting the future of Cadmus : life in a dragon form, victories at the head of barbarian hosts, finally the Isles of the Blest. Agave as stained with blood is banished the land, vainly implor- ing the god's mercy. With lamentations at the thought of exile, which is the lot of both, the play ends. Prometheus* Chorus. Prometheus. 79 PASSAGES Evolution of human life List rather to the deeds I did tor mortals : how, being fools before I made them wise and true in aim of soul. And let me tell you — not as taunting men. But teaching you the intention of my gifts — How, first beholding, they beheld in vain. And hearing, heard not, but like shapes in dreams Mixed all things wildly down the tedious time ; Nor knew to build a house against the sun With wicketed sides, nor any woodcraft knew. But lived, like silly ants, beneath the ground, In hollow caves unsunned. There came to them No stedfast sign of winter nor of spring. Flower perfumed, nor summer full of fruit ; But blindly and lawlessly they did all things, Until I taught them how the stars do rise And set in mystery, and devised for them Number, the inducer of philosophies. The synthesis of letters, and, beside. The artificer of all things, Memory, That sweet Muse- Mother. I was first to yoke f he servile beasts n couples, carrying An heirdom of man's burdens on their backs. I joined to chariots steeds that love the bit They champ at — the chief pomp of golden ease. And none but I originated ships. The seaman's chariots wandering on the brine, Witl; linen wings. And I — oh miserable I — Who did devise for mortals all these arts. Have no device left now to save myself From the woe I suffer. Most unseemly woe Thou sufferest, and dost stagger from the sense Bewildered ! like a bad leech falling sick, Thou art faint at soul, and canst not find the drugs Required to save thyself. Hearken the rest, And marvel further, what more arts and means I did invent, this greatest : if a man Fell sick there was no cure, nor esculent, Nor chrism, nor liquid, but for lack of drugs Men pined and wasted, till I showed them all Those mixtures of emollient remedies. Whereby they might be rescued from disease, I fixed the various rules of mantic art. Discerned the vision from the common dream. Instructed them in vocal auguries. Hard to interpret, and defined as plain The wayside omens — flights of crook-clawed birds So Showed which are, by their nature, fortunate. And which not so, and what the food of each. And what the hates, affections, social needs. Of all to one another,— taught what sign Of visceral lightness, colored to a shade, May charm the genial gods, and what fair spots Commend the lung and liver. Burning so The limbs encased in fat, and the long chine, I led my mortals on to an art abstruse, And cleared their eyes to the image in the fire. Erst filmed in dark. Enough said now of this : For the other helps of man hid underground, The iron and the brass, silver and gold. Can any dare affirm he found them out Before me ? None, I know, unless he choose To lie in his vaunt. In one word learn the whole : That all arts come to mortals from Prometheus. ^schylus: Prometheus. [Mrs. Browning's translation.] {For comparison with the preceding) Warmly this argument with others oft Have I disputed, who assert that ill To mortal man assign'd outweighs the good. Far otherwise I deem, that good is dealt To man in larger portions : were it not. We could not bear the light of life. That Power, Whatever god he be, that called us forth From foul and savage life, hath my best thanks. Inspiring reason first, he gave the tongue Articulate sounds, the intercourse of language : The fruits of earth he gave, and to that growth The heaven-descending rain, that from the earth, Cheer'd by its kindly dews, they might arise. And bear their life-sustaining food mature : to this The warm defense against th' inclement storm He taught to raise, and the umbrageous roof The fiery sun excluding : the tall bark He gave to bound o'er the wide sea, and bear From realm to realm in grateful interchange The fruits each wants. Is aught obscure, aught hid ? Doubts darkening on the mind the mounting blaze Removes ; or from the entrail's panting fibres The seer divines, or from the flight of birds. Are we not then fastidious to repine At such a life so fumish'd by the gods ? Euripides: Suppliants 21^, (Potter.) Specimen of Accelerated Rhythm in the exact metre Agisthus How thy word and act shall issue thou shalt shortly understand. ^ Si Chorus Up to action, O my comrades ! for the fight is hard at hand. Swift, your right hands to the sword hilt ! bare the weapon as for strife. iEciSTHUS Lo ! I too am standing ready, hilt to hilt, for death or life ! Chorus 'Twas thy word and we accept it ! onward to the chance of war I Clytemnestra Nay, enough, enough, my champion ! we will smite and slay no more. Already we have heaped enough the harvest-field of guilt. Enough of wrong and murder, let no other blood be spilt ! Peace, old men ! and pass away into the homes by fate decreed. Lest ill valor meet our vengeance — 'twas a necessary deed. But enough of toils and troubles — be the end, if ever, now. Ere the wrath of the Avenger deal another deadly blow. 'Tis a woman's word of warning, and let who will listen thereto » iEciSTHUS But that these should loose and lavish reckless blossoms of the tongue, And in hazard of their fortune cast upon me words of wrong. And forget the law of subjects, and to heed their ruler's word — Chorus Ruler ? but 'tis not for Argives, thus to own a dastard lord ! iEciSTHUS I will follow to chastise thee in my coming days of sway. Chorus Not if Fortune guide Orestes safely on his homeward way. Agisthus Ah, well I know how exiles feed on hopes of their return I Chorus Feed and batten on pollution of the right, while 'tis thy turn 1 yEciSTHUS Thou shalt pay, be well assured, heavy quittance for thy pride. Chorus Crow and strut, with her beside thee, like a cock, his mate beside I Clytemnestra Heed not thou too highly of them — let the cur-pack growl and yell — I and thou will rule the palace and will order all things well ? ^ Conclusion of Agamemnon. (Morshead.) 4 Scene from the * Hercules Mad"* of Euripides Translated by Robert Browning Chorus of Old Men Horror ! Are we come to the self -same passion of fear. Old friends ? — such a phantasm fronts me here Visible over the palace-roof ! In flight, in flight, the laggard limb Bestir, and haste aloof Sa From that on the roof there — grand and grim I Paian, king I Be thou my safeguard from the woeful thing ! Iris Courage, old men ! beholding here — Night's birth — Madness, and me the handmaid of the gods, Iris : since to your town we come no plague — Wage war against the house of but one man From Zeus and from Alkmend sprung, they say. Now, till he made an end of bitter toils Fate kept him safe, nor did his father Zeus Let us once hurt him, Her^ nor myself. But since he has toiled through Eurustheus* task Herd desires to fix fresh blood on him — Slaying his children : I desire it too. Up then, collecting the unsoftened heart, Unwedded virgin of black Night ! Drive, drag, Frenzy upon the man here — whirls of brain Big with child-murder, while his feet leap gay. Let go the bloody cable its whole length ! So that, — when o'er the Acherousian ford He has sent floating, by self-homicide. His beautiful boy-garland, — he may know First, Herd's anger, what it is to him. And then learn mine. The gods are vile indeed And mortal matters vast, if he 'scai>e free. Madness Certes, from well-bom sire and mother too Had I my birth, whose blood is Night's and Heaven's ; But here's my glory, — not to grudge the good I Nor love I raids against the friends of man. 1 wish, then, to persuade, before I see You stumbling, you and Herd : trust my words I This man, the house of whom ye hound me to. Is not unfamed on earth, nor gods among ; Since, having quelled waste land and savage sea. He alone raised again the falling rights Of gods — gone ruinous through impious men. Desire no mighty mischief, I advise ! Iris Give thou no thought to Herd's faulty schemes ! Madness Changing her step from faulty to fault-free ! Iris Not to be wise, did Zeus* wife send thee here t Madness Sun, thee I cite to witness — doing what I loath to do I But since indeed to Herd and thyself I must subserve. And follow you quick, with a whizz, as the hounds a-hunt with the huntsman, — Go I will ! and neither the sea, as it groans with its waves so furiously, Nor earthquake, no, nor the bolt of thunder gasping out heaven's labor- throe. 83 Shall cover the ground as I, at a bound, rush into the bosom of Herakles ! And home I scatter and house I batter. Having first of all made the children fall, — And he who felled them is never to know He gave birth to each child that received the blow, Till the Madness I am have let him go ! Ha, behold, already he rocks his head — he is off from the starting place ! Not a word, as he rolls his frightful orbs, from their sockets wrenched in the ghastly race ! And the breathings of him he tempers and times no more than a bull in act to toss, And hideously he bellows invoking the Keres, daughters of Tartaros. Ay and I soon will dance thee madder, and pipe thee quite out of thy mind with fear ! So, up with the famous foot, thou Iris, march to Olumpus, leave me here ! Me and mine, who now combine, in the dreadful shape no mortal sees, And now are about to pass, from without, inside of the home of Herakles ! Choral Ode Otototoi, — groan : Away is mown Thy flower, Zeus' offspring. City ! Unhappy Hellas, who dost cast (the pity !) Who worked thee all the good. Away from thee, — destroyest in a mood Of Madness him, to death whom pipings dance ! There goes she, in her chariot, — groans, her brood — And gives her team the goad, as though adrift For doom, Night's Gorgon, Madness, she whose glance Turns man to marble ! with what hissings lift Their hundred heads the snakes, her head's inheritance I Quick has the god changed fortune : through their sire Quick will the children, that he saved, expire ! O miserable me ! O Zeus ! thy child — Childless himself — soon vengeance, hunger-wild. Craving for punishment, will lay how low — Loaded with manv a woe ! O palace-roofs ! your courts about, A measure begins all unrejoiced By the tympanies and the thyrsos hoist Of the Bromian revel-rout, O ye domes ! and the measure proceeds For blood, not such as the cluster bleeds Of the Dionusian pouring-out ! Break forth ! fly, children ! fatal this— Fatal the lay that is piped, I wis ! Ay, for he hunts a children-chase — Never shall madness lead her revel And leave no trace in the dwelling-place ! Ai, ai, because of the evil ! Ai, ai, the old man — how I groan For the father, and not the father alone ! She who was nurse of his children small, — small Her gain that they never were born at all ! See ! see ! A whirlwind shakes hither and thithej* 84 The house — the roof falls in together ! Ha, ha, what dost thou, son of Zeus ? A trouble of Tartaros broke loose. Such as once Pallas on the Titan thundered, Thou sendest on thy domes, roof -shattered and wall -sundered. Ideas of Deity None of mortal men Escape unhurt by fortune, nor the gods. Unless the stories of the bards be false. Have they not formed connubial ties to which No law assents? Have they not gall'd with chains Their fathers through ambition ? Yet they hold Their mansions on Olympus, and their wrongs With patience bear. Euripides . Hercules 1414 These are your works, ye gods ! these changes fraught With horrible confusion, mingled thus That we through ignorance might worship you. Euripides : Hecuba 943. 7 O supreme of heav*n. What shall we say ? that thy firm providence Regards mankind ? or vain the thoughts, which deem That the just gods are rulers in the sky, Since tyrant fortune lords it o'er the world ? Ditto 470 Mortal as I am In virtue I exceed thee, though a god Of mighty pow'r ; for I have not betray'd The sons of Hercules : well did'st thou know To come by stealth unto my couch, t' invade A bed not thine, nor leave obtained ; to save Thy friends thou dost not know ; thou art a god In wisdom or in justice little vers'd. Euripides : Hercules 385 9 I deem not of the gods, as having form'd Connubial ties to which no law assents. Nor as oppressed with chains : disgraceful this I hold, nor ever will believe that one Lords it o'er others : of no foreign aid The god, who is indeed a god, hath need : These are the wretched fables of the bards. Euripides: Hercules 1444 10 O Jove, who rulest the rolling of the earth. And o'er it hast thy throne, whoe'er thou art, The ruling mind, or the necessity Of nature, I adore thee : dark thy ways, And silent are thy steps ; to mortal man Y^t thou with justice all things dost ordain. Euripides : Daughters of Troy 955, 85 iz Was this then human, or divine? Did it a middle nature share? What mortal shall declare? Who shall the secret bounds define? When the gods work we see their pow'r ; We see on their high bidding wait The prosperous gales, the storms of fate : But who their awful councils shall explore? Euripides: Helena 1235. 12 And those, the Ever- Virgin ones, I call, Erinnyes dread that see all human deeds. Swift-footed, that they mark how I am slain By you Atreidse ; may they seize on them. Doers of evil, with all evil plagues And uttermost destruction. Sophocles: Ajaxgyj [Plumptre]. Passing bits of Nature-Painting 13 Thou firmament of God, and swift-wing'd winds, Ye springs of rivers, and of ocean waves That smile innumerous ! Mother of us all, Earth, and Sun's all-seeing eye, behold, 1 pray, what I a God from Gods endure. -^schylus : Prometheus 88 [Plumptre]. 14 A Sacred Spot This spot is holy, one may clearly tell, Full as it is of laurel, olive, vine. And many a nightingale within sings sweetly. Rest my limbs here upon this roughly-hewn rock. Sophocles: (Edipus at Colonus 16. 15 A Grove of the Furies Rush not on Through voiceless, grass-grown grove. Where blends with rivulet of honey'd stream The cup of water clear. Do. 1 56. 16 A Meadow of Artemis Thee, goddess, to adorn I bring this crown Enwoven with the various flowers that deck The unshorn mead, where never shepherd dared To feed his flock, and the scythe never came. But o'er its vernal sweets unshorn the bee Ranges at will, and hush'd in reverence glides Th' irnguous streamlet : garish art hath there 86 No place ; of these the modest still may cull At pleasure, interdicted to th' impure. Euripedes : Hippolytus 8i. 17 The Nile. These are the streams of Nile, the jov of nymphs. Glowing with beauty's radiance ; he "his floods Sweli'd with the melted snow o'er Egypt's plain Irriguous pours, to fertilize her fields, Th' ethereal rain supplying. Euripedes : Helena i. 18 The Nightififrale On thee, high-nested in the musef ul shade By close-inwoven branches made. Thee, sweetest bird, most musical Of all that warble their melodious song The charmed woods among. Thee, tearful nightingale, 1 call : O come, and from thy dark-plumed throat Swell sadly-sweet thy melancholy note. Euripedes: Helena 1191. Flight of Cranes O might we through the liquid sky Wing'd like the birds of Lybia fly ; Birds, which the change of seasons know, And, left the wintry stonns and snow, Their leader's well-known call obey O'er many a desert dry and cultured plain He guides the marshall'd train. And cheers with jocund notes their way. Ye birds that through th' aerial height Your course with clouds light-sailing share, Your flight amidst the Pleiads hold. And where Orion nightly flames in gold ; Then on Eurota's banks alight. And this glad message bear : ''Your king from Troy shall reach once more. With conquest crown'd, his native shore." Euripedes: Helena 1603. 20 A Storm So is it as a wave Of ocean's billowing surge (Where Thrakian storm-winds rave, And floods of darkness from the depths emerge,) Rolls the black sand from out the lowest deep, And shores re-echoing wail, as rough blasts o'er them sweep. Sophocles: Antigone 586. [Plumptre.] 87 21 / Steenng their rough course o'er this boisterous main Form'd in a ring beneath whose waves * The Nereid train in high-arch'd caves Weave the light dance, and raise the sprightly song Whilst whisp'nng in their swelling sails Soft Zephyrs breathe, or southern gales Piping amidst their tackling play, As their bark ploughs its wat'ry way Those hoary cliffs, the haunts of birds, among. To that wild strand, the rapid race Where once Achilles deigned to grace. Euripides : Iphigenia among the Tauri 492. (Specimens of Gnomic Verses) 22 Amongst barbarians all are slaves, save one. 23 Helena 311 He is no lover who not always loves. 24 What our necessities demand, becomes Of greater moment than to conquer Troy. 25 'Tis not the counsel, but the speaker's worth, That gives persuasion to his eloquence. 26 _ _ ^^ ,, Skilful leech Mutters no spell o'er sore that needs the knife. 27 It is through God that man or laughs or mourns. 28 w ,, , , No mortal man May therefore be call'd happy, till you see The last of all his days, and how, that pass'd. He to the realms of Pluto shall descend, Daughters of Troy 1148. Andromache 427. Hecuba 266. Ajax 581. Ajax 383. Andromache 114. 29 . , , All human things A day lays low, a day lifts up again ; But still the gods love those of order'd soul. Ajax 130. f f / Booh of TKIustrations Hnctent Comebp i^tdjartr S. i^oulton A i m .(S ■ V 'nHj^jflB -y ^E^^BBH^^^^B tw^gsS^^HHl ^^W^^^^l '^^^I^^Si '.n^^^^MH ^^^^^K:i^?:^" ^ ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^HP' '^- > '- ^^^^^HPiP:' ' ' ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^E ' ' ' .^ ^^^^^^V^".' ^^^^^^^H"*^'^#'>.-' .' ^^■IP^p.' ::. ;f '■. ^^^K^X^-. -^ •■.••»'. "^^ '":■■" ^^^^P^*i *-*'.- >- - -C'™ r. .-■ ■' ' ^^^^^^^^« .- ---. The Ancient Drama (COMEDY) L.\ ;: '^.-te^ ■■ „*■- .-*;'''.•-. -^^'^A^v >^--- -'-"■■ ■■....: .r: -> CHICAGO (Cbe JHnitJcr^itp of Chicago prcjrf 1900 CONTENTS THE CLOUDS, of Aristophanes - THE BIRDSy OF Aristophanes LYSISTRATA, of Aristophanes - PLUTUSy OF Aristophanes Scene from THE FROGS, of Aristophanes TRINUMMUSy OF Plautus ■ 3 II . 22 28 - 35 39 Syllabus of Lecture-studies : Ancient Comedy for English Audiences. i THE CLOUDS* Persons: Strepsiades and his son Pheidippides — Socrates, Ch^- REPhon, and others of his disciples — Pasias and Amynias (Creditors of Strepsiades), a Witness — personification of Just and Unjust Argument — Chorus of the Clouds. PROLOGUE The first scene represents the Interior of Strepsiades' house at night: Str. himself in bed. He soliloquises on family troubles ; especially his fast son and other expenses into which a rich match has betrayed him. He can think of no way out of the difficulty except to send his son to this new School of Socrates, where they teach legal evasion. He calls Pheidippides out of his bed to propose the plan, which Pheid. does not take to. The father trying threats, Pheid. runs off to his rich uncle Megacles. Str. re- solves he will go to the School himself. He traverses stage and knocks at Socrates' door. The initiated door- keeper says he has caused a great thought to miscarry, and the conversation between the two brings out the wonders of the new learning : measuring fleas' jumps by making wax slippers for them — getting a dinner by geome- try, reinforced by stealing a cloak — here a set of students with heads on the ground and backs in the air studying * things under ground ' \Sir. supposes mushrooms] — wonderful instruments [probably ridiculous utensils] for vari- ous sciences — the novel wonder a Map [which makes Str. start back at see- ing how near Sparta is] — many others too coarse for mention — and above all Socrates himself in a hanging basket [hit at 'suspension of judgment'] — Str, then converses with Socrates himself, who explains as to the basket : I walk on air and contemplate the Sun ! Str. begs he may learn Unjust Argument : he will pay any fee to his teacher, * by the gods he will!' — 'The gods ' are no longer current coin. — Then what coin have they ? Byzantine iron ? — Soc. bids him sit on the sacred bed with chaplet round his brow [the poor man thinks he is about to be sacrificed], while Socrates invokes the True Goddesses, his patrons, the Virgin Clouds. Soc. Old man sit you still, and attend to my will, and hearken in peace to my prayer. INVOCATION OF CLOUDS O Master and King, holding earth in your swing, O measureless infi- nite Air; And thou, glowing Ether, and Clouds who enwreathe her with thunder and lightning and storms, Arise ye and shine, bright Ladies Divine, to your student in bodily forms. Str. No, but stay, no, but stay, just one moment, I pray, while my cloak round my temples I wrap. To think that I've come, stupid fool, from my home, without either beaver or cap ! * The quotations arc from Rogers's translation. Soc, Come forth, come forth, dread Clouds, and to earth your glorious majesty show ; Whether lightly ye rest on the time-honoured crest of Olympus envi- roned in snow, Or tread the soft dance 'mid the stately expanse of old Ocean, the nymphs to beguile. Or stoop to enfold with your pitchers of gold the mystical waves of the Nile, Or around the white foam of Mseotis ye roam, or Mimas all wintry and bare, O ! hear while we pray, and turn not away from the rites which your servants prepare. Voices heard from beneath the stage Clouds of all hue, Rise we aloft with our garments of dew. Come from old Ocean's unchangeable bed, Come, till the mountain's green summits we tread, Come to the peaks with their landscapes untold, Gaze on the Earth with her harvests of gold. Gaze on the rivers in majesty streaming. Gaze on the lordly, invincible sea ; Come, for the Eye of the Ether is beaming, Come, for all nature is flashing and free. Let us shake off this close-clinging dew From our members eternally new. And sail upwards the wide world to view. Come away ! Come away ! [Throughout this and similar scenes the grand l)rrics arc continually interrupted by the low-souled Strepsiades, who expresses terror or other strong emotion in the same measure, but with metaphors or allusions too coarse for quotation]. Come then with me. Daughters of Mist, to the land of the free. Come to the people whom Pallas hath blest. Come to the soil where the Mysteries rest ; Come, where the glorified Temple invites The pure to partake of its mystical rites : Holy the gifts that are brought to the Gods, Shrines with festoons and with garlands are crowned, Pilgrims resort to the sacred abodes. Gorgeous the festivals all the year round. And the Bromian rejoicings in Spring, When the flutes with their deep music ring, And the sweetly-toned Choruses sing. Come away ! Come away ! Sir. O, Socrates, pray by all the Gods, say, for I earnestly long to be told, Who are these that recite \vith such grandeur and might ? Are they glorified mortals of old ? , Soc. No mortals are there, but Clouds of the air, great Gods who the indolent fill : These grant us discourse, and logical force, and the art of persuasion instil. And periphrasis strange, and a power to arrange, and a marvellous judgment and skill. Str. So then when I heard their omnipotent word, my spirit felt all of a flutter. And it yearns to begin subtle cobwebs to spin, and about metaphysics to stutter ; And together to glue an idea or two, and battle away in replies : So if it's not wrong, I earnestly long to behold them myself with my eyes. PARODE OR CHORUS-ENTRY AND EPISODE I At this point the Clouds become visible: in gorgeous vestments they move slowly round the Orchestra. Soc, Look up in the air, toward Arnes, out there, for I see they will pitch before long These regions about. — Str. Where? point me them out. Soc, They are drifting, an infinite throng. And their long shadows quake over valley and brake. Str. Why, whatever's the matter to-day? I can't see them a bit. Soc. There, they're close by the pit. Str. Ah, I just got a glimpse by the way. Soc. There, now you must see how glorious they be, or your eyes must be pumpkins, I vow. .S^. Ah, I see them proceed ; I should think so indeed : Great powers ! they fill everything now. Soc. So then till this day that celestials were they, you never imagined nor knew? Str. Why no, on my word, for T always had heard they were nothing but vapour and dew. Soc. O, then I declare, you can't be aware that 'tis these who the sophists protect. Prophets sent beyond sea, quacks of every degree, fops signet-and jewel-bedecked. Astrological knaves, and fools who their staves of dithyrambs proudly rehearse, — 'Tis the Clouds who all these support at their ease, because they exalt them in verse. Str. Tis for this then they write of ' the terrible might of the light-flashing, rain-splashing Cloud,' And the * dank-matted curls, which the Tempest God whirls,' and the * blasts with their trumpets so loud,' And • birds of the sky floating upwards on high,' and * Clouds of first water, which drown With their soft falling dew the great Ether so blue,' and then in return they gulp down Huge cutlets of pike, and game if they like, most delicate game in its season. Strepsiades cannot understand how it is that they appear in the shape of women : Soc. reminds him how clouds can assume any shape ; they take their shape from those who happen to be near them [this gives opportunity for personalities aimed at individuals in the audience\ The Cloiids hail the new student, who is awe-struck. — There are no Gods but these. — Except Zeus, pleads Streps., or who would send the rain? — Why these Goddesses ; M did you ever know rain without clouds? — But thunder? — The motion of these, as urged by Necessity. — Yes, but does not Zeus send the necessity? — No : it is caused by a vortex. — Strepsiades sees now ; Zeus is deposed and Vortex reigns in his stead. — But how about the thunderbolt and its slaying perjurers? — If it did that, how is it that Cleonymus is living? [Another hit at a person in the audience.] Besides it hits the gnarled oaks : have they committed perjury? Sir. Can't say that they do ; your words appear true. Whence comes then the Thunderbolt, pray? Sac. When a wind that is dry, being lifted on high, is suddenly pent unto these, It swells up their skin, like a bladder, within, by Necessity's changeless decrees. Till, compressed very tight, it bursts them outright, and away with an impulse so strong. That at last, by the force and the swing of its course, it takes fire as it whizzes along. Str, That's exactly the thing that I suffered one Spring, at the great feast of Zeus, I admit; I'd a paunch in the pot, but I wholly forgot about making the safety- valve slit. So it sputtered and swelled, while the saucepan I held, till at last with a vengeance it flew: Took me quite by surprise, dirt-bespattered my eyes, and scalded my face black and blue. Strepsiades is at last convinced and accepts the New Creed : I believe in Wide Space, in the Clouds, in the Eloquent Tongue, and gives himself up as their servant : Str. So now, at your word, I give and afford My body to these, to treat as they please. To have and to hold, in squalour, in cold. In hunger, and thirst; yea, by Zeus, at the worst. To be flayed out of shape from my heels to my nape, So along with my hide from my duns I escape : And to men may appear without conscience or fear, Bold, hasty and wise, a concocter of lies ; . A rattler to S{>eak, a dodger, a sneak, A regular claw of the tables of law ; A shuffler complete, well worn in deceit. A supple, unprincipled troublesome cheat ; A hang-dog accurst, a bore with the worst, In the tricks of the jury-courts thoroughly versed. If ail that I meet this praise shall repeat. Work away as you choose, I will nothing refuse. Without any reserve, from my head to my shoes. You shan't see me wince, though my gutlets you mince, And these entrails of mine for a sausage combine. Served up for the gentlemen students to dine. At the request of the Clouds, Socrates undertakes the old man's education. He shows badly in some preliminary questions, but at last is taken inside with Socrates. The Stage being vacant, the Chorus turns round so as to face the Audience, and proceeds to the PARABASIS Parabasis Proper. The first part complains in the Author's name of the blunder of the audience in passing over the Author's previous play, brought out under an assumed name, like a bantling its mother is ashamed to rear. A second one so brought out has met with a worthier fate ; and the present is a sister-play. Now then comes its sister hither, like Electra in the play, Comes in earnest expectation kindred minds to meet to-day: She will recognize full surely, if she find, her brother's tress. And observe how pure her morals : who, to notice first her dress, Enters not with filthy symbols on her modest garments hung. Jeering bald-heads, dancing ballets, for the laughter of the young. In this play no wretched grey-beard with a staff his fellow pokes. So obscuri!}!? from the audience all the poorness of his jokes ; No one rushes in Tyith torches, no one groans, * Oh dear! Oh dear! * Trusting in its genuine nierits comes this play before you here. They go on to contrast (in the Author's iisme) his plays with his rivals'. A Strophe follows : invocation to Zeus and Ether 'w. short lines. The After- speech comes next, which, as usual, attacks some public iClW: O most sapient, wise spectators, hither turn attention due. We complain of sad ill-treatment, we've a bone to pick with you : We have ever helped your city, helped with all our might and main; Yet you pay us no devotion, that is now why we complain. We who always watch around you. For if any project seems Ill-concocted, then we thunder, then the rain comes down in streams. And remember, very lately, how we knit our brows together, 'Thunders crashing, lightnings flashing,' never was such awful weather; And the Moon in haste eclipsed her, and the Sun in anger swore He would curl his wick within him and give light to you no more, Should you choose that cursed reptile, Cleon, whom the Gods abhor, Tanner, Slave, and Paphlagonian, to lead out your hosts to war. Yet you chose him ! Yet you chose him ! For they say that folly grows Best and finest in this city; but the gracious Gods dispose Always all things for the better, causing errors to succeed : And how this sad joke may profit, surely he who runs may read. Let the Cormorant be convicted, in command, of bribes and theft, I,et us have him gagged and muzzled, in the pillory chained and left. Then again, in ancient fashion, all that ye have erred of late, Will turn out your own advantage, and a blessing to the state. After an Antistrophe [same metre as Strophe] : invocation to various gods : we have next the After-response. We, when we had finished packing and prepared our journey down. Met the Lady Moon, who charged us with a message for your town : She saves you a drachm a month for torchlight, and yet you never observe the days which it is her special function to mark ; but you are wrangling in law courts when you ought to be keeping sacred Festivals ; And, she says, the gods in chorus shower reproaches on her head, When in bitter disappointment they go supperless to bed. If you do not amend there will be terrible consequences — as happened lately with Hyperbolus [another personality]. 8 EPISODE II The Parabasis condudea, the Scene resumes. Socrates and his new pupil appear, the former swearing by Chaos, Air, and Respiration that Streps, is the greatest dolt he ever taught. ' The lesson goes on ; at first as to some niceties of grammar [not capable of being rendered in English], by which Sir, learns he must speak of 'fowl' and 'fowless,' must call 'trough' *troughess,' which on trying to expand into a principle, he finds will oblige him to speak in future of "Miss Cleonymus" {another personality^ Then he is forced to get into a bed [none of the cleanliest] io force his brain, and by this means to think out what he is most anxious about — devices against debts. His first thought is to hire a witch and conjure down the moon, without which interest could not be calculated. Next he brings out the idea of a burning glass, to be used in court to destroy the documentary evi- dence. This pleases Socrates: but his next suggestion, to escape the appearing in court at all by simply hanging himself, is too much for the Master, who will have nothing more to do with Mrn. He is in great distress, but by advice of the Clouds goes off to find his son, who may prove not too old to learn. Observe tlie ambiguous address of Chorus to bocrates : Dost thou not see how bounteous we our favors free Will shower on you ? Since whatsoe'er your will prepare * This dupe will do. But now that you have dazzled and elated so your man, Make haste and seize whate'er you please as quickly as you can. For cases such as these, my friend, are very prone to change and bend. Re-enter Sir., dragging his unwilling son, who scorns his father's glorious account of the new wonders he has learned, and is not impressed with ' trough- ess ' or King Vortex. Socrates doubts if he can do much with one who says * suthpended,' but the father says he is sharp enough : he used to build dear little baby-houses and frame frogs out of peach-stones, when a boy. The question now becomes whether he shall learn the Just or Unjust Argument : and the two are summoned to appear and debate, that the boy may judge for himself. After a preliminary exchange of abuse : Unjust Argument. You musty old dame ! Just Argument. You monster in shame ! Unj. Hey! roses, I swear ! Just. You lickspittle there ! Unj. What, lillies from you ! Just. You're a parricide, too ! Unj. You shower gold on my head. Just. But it used to be lead. Unjust. But now its a grace and a glory instead. Just. You're a little too bold. Unjust. You're a great deal too old, &c. Just Argument plaints the simplicity of life and manner when he was believed m, in the good old times, when young people were modest, and learned the precepts which taught The heroes of old to be hardy and bold, and the men who at Marathon fought. If Pheidip. will listen to him, he shall be blooming, athletic, and fair ; and instead of wasting his strength in musty law courts, he shall excel in the fnendly athletic rivalry of the Academe : All fragrant with yew and leisure time too, and the leaf which the white poplars fling. When the plane whispers love to the elm in the grove in the beautiful season of Spring. The Chorus applaud, but turn to Unjust Argument., who manifests great disgust at this picture and proceeds to pull it to pieces. — You object to warm baths as enervating : was Hercules enervated, and are not the baths of Hercules the best v/arm baths in Athens ? &c. What is the good e. g. of modesty? If caught, plead that Zeus himself is not famous for modesty. — But, urges Just Argument^ suppose you are convicted and branded as a Rogue ? and offers to stake the whole dispute on this argument. — This diffi- culty is met and the victory decided by the favourite appeal to personali- ties : Where do your great statesmen come from ? — The class of branded Rogues ? — Your Orators and Poets ?— Branded Rogues again ! — If you still doubt, look at — the Audience ! and/«5/ Argument givts up as his rival runs through name after name, all branded as Rogues. — Thus Pheidip. becomes the pupil of Unjust Argument: the Chorus however hinting he may repent before long. CHORAL INTERACT The blessings the Clouds will bestow upon Athens if they gain the prize : all countries shall wait till they have poured the rain upon Athenian fields ; they will guard her from drought and sling hailstones at her enemies. FINALE Strepsiades returns to see how his son is getting on, especially as * Settling day ' [called in Greek * Old and New day '] is near. He hears with delight of his son's progress, and as first-fruits learns from him that a day cannot be old and new at the same time, any more than a woman can be old and young. With rapture he hurls this at Pasias, a creditor who comes with his bill, makes general fun of him, and finally trying him with the * troughess ' question declares he will not pay at all a man so ignorant. — A second creditor comes and he tries him with a question whether the rain falls fresh each time, or the new rain is the old drawn up by the Sun : when he finds he cares nothing about this, he refuses to pay one so unenlightened in the Laws of Nature. Moreover how can Money increase by Interest when the Sea itself grows no larger for all the Rivers that run into it? — In triumph he goes in with his son, the Chorus prophesying a reaction — which appears when the father comes rushing out, the son beating him violently : they had had a talk, in which the son sneered at ^schylus, and began a ' shameful tale ' from Euripides, which the father could bear no longer and struck his son : the son instead of submitting, had dared to strike his own father ! The son proceeds to justify himself, answering his father's appeals to his early care for his son in his helpless infancy by the argument that his father used to beat him as a child, and as age is a second childhood it is only fair that he should beat his father now! — In horror Strep, turns to the Clouds : O Clouds ! O Clouds ! I owe all this to you ! Why did I let you manage my affairs ? Chor. Nay, nay, old man, you owe it to yourself ; Why did'st thou turn to wicked practices ? Str. Ah ! but ye should have asked me that before, And not have spurred a poor old fool to evil. Chor. Such is our plan. We find a man On evil thoughts intent ; Guide him along to shame and wrong. Then leave him to repent, lO Strepsiades, in despair, at last rushes out and brings in a crew of neighbours who pull down Socrates' house, burn it, and turn the Great Master and his students into the street, Socrates rushes out and seeks Strepsiades : Soc. Hallo ! What are you at up on our roof ? Sir. I walk on air and contemplate the sun ! The rioters pitilessly turn them out and — spare them not for many reasons, But most because they have blasphemed the gods, and the Chorus mark the conclusion with the words I think we may say We have acted our part pretty middling to-day. II THE BIRDS Dramatis Person^e. — Talkover [Peisthetserus] and his companion Hopeful [EuelpidesJ — King Hoopoe of the Birds, and Chorus of Birds, his subjects, Runnerbird [Trochilus] his valet. — Deities: Prome- theus, Neptune [or Poseidon], Triballus [a barbarian deity]. Iris.— A Priest, A Poet, Kinesias a dithyrambic poet, A Soothsayer, Meton an Astronomer, An Anthenian Commissioner, A Vendor of Decrees, A (would-be) Parricide, An Informer, Messengers, &c. The Scene represents open country ^ rocky ^ with a grove in the centre. Talk- over and Hopeful are discovered wandering about as if they had lost their wayy one holding a jackdaw ^ the other a raven^ to which they seem to be look- ing for directions. PROLOGUE The conversation between Talkover and Hopeful brings out that they are in search of the Hoopoe, once a human king, Tereus, but transformed [in one of Sophocles' tragedies] into a king of birds. By advice of the poul- terer, Philocrates, they had taken these two birds for their guides, who are now betraying them by giving hopelessly contradictor^' directions. — Sud- denly turning to the spectators Hopeful begins to explain the plot: how they are seeking a new country — not that Athens is not the most glorious city in the world (in which to lose a fortune over law-suits), but they prefer comfort to glory. Talkover perceives that the birds are now agreeing to point in one direction : accordingly they knock at the bare rock, which opens, and Runnerbird enquires who they are. Mutual embarrassment, after which the valet consents to call his royal master from his siesta after a meal of myrtle-berries and ants. The Hoopoe enters, the two men are terribly alarmed at his enormous beak and crest : he seems to feel this as a slight, and lays the blame on Sophocles who so dramatised him. When he has heard their story he enquires why they have come to him for information. Hopeful: Because you were a man, and so are we ; you used to run in debt, and so do we ; you chuckled when you escaped paying, and so do we ! •• Moreover in all their flying about the birds must have discovered such a city of ease, if there be one : a city where there will be no strife, save when a host angrily bids you come earlier to a feast, or a father reproaches you for not courting his pretty daughter. The conversation is running on, with the usual topical hits and personalities, when Talkover is suddenly struck with a profound thought — what the race of birds might do if they only realized their position ! At the risk of screwing Hoopoe's neck off he makes him look up, down, all round, and tells him he may be the practical ruler of all he sees. For the birds hold a strategic position that commands the universe — the line of passage between earth and heaven. H they found a city and fortify their atmosphere they will be able to bring both gods and men to their own terms. From men they can hide heaven like a locust cloud, while if the gods prove stubborn, they can starve them out by inter- cepting the smoke of human sacrifices on which they feed. — Hoopoe swears by " snares, meshes, and nets " it is the best idea he ever heard, and 12 prepares to summon his subjects to hear the project from the projector's own lips. [Basts of Plot.^ INVOCATION OF CHORUS Hoopoe goes back into the grove, from which he is heard (in lyrical meas- ure) rousing the Nightingale to summon the birds to a conference. A flute performance follows [by an Athenian prima donna lately returned from abroad) intended for the Nightingale's call Hoopoe follows this up by a second Lyrical Invocation to the Birds his subjects. Hoopoe Epopopopopopopopopopopopopoi, Holloa ! holloa ! what ho ! what ho 1 Hither haste, my plume-partakers ; Come many, come any That pasture on the farmer's well-sown acres, Tribes countless that on barley feed, And clans that gather out the seed ; Come, alert upon the wing, Dulcet music uttering : Ye that o'er the furrowed sod Twitter upon every clod. Making all the air rejoice With your soft and slender voice : Tio, tio, tio, tio, tio, tio, tio, tio, Ye that feast on garden fruits. Nestling 'midst the ivy shoots : Ye that all the mountains throng, Olive-croppers, arbute-loppers, Haste and fly to greet my song. Trioto, trioto, totobrix ! Ye that o'er the marshy flats Swallow down the shrill-mouthed gnats; Ye that haunt the deep-dew'd ground, Marathon's sweet meads around. Ouzel, and thou of the speckled wing, Hazelhen, hazelhen, speed while I sing. Come many, come any, With the halcyon brood that sweep Surges of the watery deep, ^ Come and list to novel words. Which to hear, from far and near We gather all the tribes of neck-extending birds. Here is arrived a sharp old man Of revolutionary mind. To revolutionary deeds inclined ; Come all and listen to his plan.* Strange cries of birds are heard in the distance, and there follows the PARODE OR CHORUS-ENTRY This is a grand pantomimic. tour-de-force. The twenty-four members of the Chorus enter as birds, got up in splendid array, and on a colossal scale. They enter singly, or in groups, giving scope to the human onlookers to ♦ Frpm Professor Kennedy's translatioq. 13 make free comments (including applicatioiis to the spectators in the theatre or to public characters). The scene is in accelerated rhythm^ interrupted by bits of lyric excitement on the part of the Chorus, who, instead of falling in with their monarch's view, cry out that he has betrayed them to their natural enemies, mankind. A Bght seems imminent, and the Birds form in order for charging. Upon them ! at them ! in a ring Encircle them with bloody force, Make onslaught with embattled wing 1 For these two men must die of course. And glut my beak with prey. No gloomy glen is there, nor airy cloud. Nor hoary sea that can their persons shroud, And let them get away. Pluck them ; tear them ; bite them, scare them : do not let us be afraid. Where is he who should command us ? let him lead the light brigade.* Talkover and Hopeful \iz.\e, the presence of mind to arm themselves with a spit for spear, and vinegar-cruet and bowl for shields : but before the hostile forces meet Hoopoe manages to calm down his comrades' suspicions, and they gradually assume a more peaceful attitude, and prepare to listen to Talkover's proposal. (Thus the metre at the conclusion is Blank Verse.) EPISODE I In a formal oration [long anapasts) Talkover puts his project : the for- mality of his speech being constantly relieved by running comments of a farcical nature by his companion Hopeful, Talkover begins with the ancient dignity of the birds. He quotes Aesop's fable of the lark, who buried its father in its own head because there was no earth to bury him in, as evi- dence of the antiquity of the race of birds : their authority is seen in the way in which all the working -classes obey the cock's call to labour in the morning. Then he dwells upon their wrongs : men snare and trap them, and take them in heaps ; they buy and sell them, and feel them all over ; they not only roast them, but, adding insult to injur)% pour over them scalding sauce. The birds are easily worked up to a burst of lyric indigna- tion. Then comes the orator's remedy. Let them build a city of the birds, and wall up the air all round, like Babylon. Then send heralds to the gods and dictate terms. Men shall hereafter sacrifice to birds at the same time as to gods : a sacrifice to Venus shall be accompanied with an offering of wheat to the coot ; or if a ram is offered to Jove, a male ant must be pre- sented to king Wren. If the gods resist, declare a Sacred War, and block- ade them when they wish to make their love-visits to earth. If men resist, swallows can pick up all their seed, crows peck out the eyes of cattle, and locusts eat up their vines ; on the other hand, if they are obedient, the birds can offer them good * auguries,' pointing out treasures, and favorable sea- sons for sailing, besides granting a century or two of long life out of their own endless years. Talkover perorates {in short anapcpsts) on the economy of such divine institutions : no expensive temples to be reared, but they will dwell in thickets and olive-trees, and for offerings accept sprinklings of wheat. The Chorus accept the proposal with enthusiasm ; and {the metre changing to blank verse) preparations are made for carrying it out. But * From Mr. Rudd's translation. first the two human friends of the birds are taken inside to be feasted and furnished with wings; while the nightingale shall fill up the interval.— 7'>4^ flutist appears as a nightingale, and the play proceeds to its PARABASIS The Lyric Introduction is a summons to the flutist to perform. {^Kommation) O my ownie, O my brownie, Bird of birds the dearest, Voice that mingling with my lays Ever was the clearest ; Playmate of my early days, Still to me the nearest. Nightingale, thus again Do I meet thee, do I greet thee, Bringing to me thy sweet strain ? Skilfullcst of artists thou To soft trillings of the flute Vernal melodies to suit, Our homily demands thy prelude now.* T^^^nl *^^^ •^"^'^ ^^^^ '*^^^^ follows the Parabasis Proper {in long anapasts) The Chorus m this case retain their characterization, and their theme is the supremacy of birds over men. {Parabasis Proper) Ho ! ye men, dim-lived by nature, closest to the leaves in feature, feeble beings, clay-create, shadowy tribes inanimate. Wingless mortals, in a day, doleful, dream-like, swept away ; Note the lessons that we give, we the immortals form'd to live, We the ethereal, the unaged, with undying plans engaged. Taking advantage of the theory of a reigning philosopher, which evolved the universe out of wind as the embryo of all things, they substituted * egg ' for embryo, and so make out a bird-origin for the world. Chaos was and Night of yore in the time all times before, And black Erebus beside Tartarus extending wide. Earth, Air, Heaven were yet unknown, in huge Erebus alone First, our oldest legend says, black-wing'd Night a wind-egg lays ; Which, as circling seasons move, brings to birth the charmer Love', Bright, with golden wings behind, semblant to the whirling wind. In the vast Tartarean shade him the dull dark Chaos made Sire of us : we nestled there till we saw the light of air. Race immortal there was none till Love's sorcery was begun : But, when all things mixed in motion, rose the sky, the earth, the ocean, And the blessed gods were made, everlasting, undecay'd. Again playing upon the idea of * augury,' they represent birds as the source of all material comfort. Mortal men for their convenience owe to us well-nigh everything. ♦ This and the two quotations that follow it are from Professor Kennedy's translation. 15 • First we announce to them the Seasons, such as Autumn, Winter and Spring. When the crane departs for Lybia then the sowing they know is to do ; Then the seaman, hanging his rudder, settles to sleep for the whole night through. Then should they weave a coat for Orestes, Lest in the cold he be driven to steal. Afterwards comes the kite, another change in the time of year to reveal ; Then from the sheep you take its spring fleece ; after that comes the swallow to say, Sell your great coat and provide some dress that is fit for midsummer day. Ammon, Delphi, and Dodona, Phoebus Apollo are we to you. * What do the Birds say ' is the question first to be answered whatever you do. Whether it be to buy or sell : or earn your living or take to a wife ; Everything is ' a bird ' to you that betrays the shadow of coming life ; A phrase, a sneeze, two people meeting, a sound, a slave, an ass is a * bird.' So, that we are your prophet Apollo, is too clear for another word. Take us as Gods, and for your uses You will have in us prophets, Muses. \yinter, summer, wind and weather. To your liking altogether. We shall not retire for state Up to the clouds like Jove the Great : But residing handily by you We shall hear and not deny you All that you may wish to possess ; Health and wealth and happiness. Length of days, a state of peace. Laughter that shall never cease. Constant feasting, dances, youth. With milk of birds ; so that in truth You and your heirs Shall have no cares But how to live On the very abundance of wealth we give.* The Strophe follows, reproducing the lofty rhythms of old Phrynichus, amid an accompaniment of bird-twittering (which the reader must imagine). "fMuse, that in the deep recesses Of the forest's dreary shade. Vocal with our wild addresses, Or in the lonely lowly glade, Attending near, art pleased to hear * From Mr. Rudd's translation, t From this point to the end of the play the quotations are from Frere's translation. i6 Our humble bill tuneful and shrill, When to the name of Omnipotent Pan, Our notes we raise, or sing in praise, Of mighty Cybele, from whom we began, Mother of Nature, and every creature. Winged or unwinged, of birds or man : Aid and attend, and chant with me The music of Phrynichus, open and plain. The first that attempted a loftier strain. Ever busy like the bee, with the sweets of harmony. The After-speech puts, in pure farcical style, conveniences of birds' ways. People whom the law interferes with in this world might be free amid the birds : m Here by law 'tis very bad if a youngster beats his dad : Where with us 'tis usual rather, even grand, to cuff a father, Strutting up and crying, * Sir, if you'll fight me, lift your spur.' The Antistrophe continues the Strophe: Thus the swans in chorus follow, , On the mighty Thracian stream, Hymning their eternal theme. Praise to Bacchus and Apollo : The welkin rings with sounding wings. With songs and cries and melodies Up to the thunderous aether ascending : Whilst all that breathe on earth beneath. The beasts of the wood the plain and the flood, In panic amazement are crouching and bending. With the awful qualm of a sudden calm Ocean and air in silence blending, The ridge of Olympus is sounding on high. Appalling with wonder the lords of the sky. And the Muses and Graces Enthroned in their places, Join in the solemn symphony. So the After-response continues the After-speech. A spectator, who is tired of the play, might if he had wings, just fly home, get a bit and snack, and come back fresh. Flying oft with good success crowns a lover's happiness. If he spies his rival here in the senatorial tier. He can spread his wings and fly, love-directed, through the sky. Keep his happy tryst, and then fly into his seat again. EPISODE II Talkover and Hopeful reappear in bird costume, and discuss with Hoopoe- (in blank verse) the founding of the new city. First its name is solemnly settled * Cuckooborough-on-Cloud ' [Nephelococcuguia]. Guardian deities and other officers are selected. Preparation is made for the solemn initia- tory sacrifices ; but these are perpetually interrupted by arrivals of persons anxious to have a hand in or to oppose the new project. A Priest comes first with a scraggy goat : he is allowed to officiate. He has scarcely begun when a Poet follows, reciting fragments of lyrics he has already begun to compose on the new city. As with Pindar's, his sublime lyrics contain hints that gifts would not be unacceptable, and Talkover manages this 17 economically by making the Priest strip and give up his garments to the Poet. Then follow, one after another a Prophet with a bag of oracles, an Astronomer with instruments for street-mensuration, a Commissioner from the mother city to the new colony, a Hawker of Decrees — all of which are made to furnish 'knock-about business,' being first 'chaffed' and then thrashed by Talkover off the stage. But finally the latter has to give up his attempt and complete the sacrifice indoors. SECOND (PARTIAL) PARABASIS There is first a Strophe, putting the rights of birds in queer metre, sup- posed to suggest birds' attempts at human verse : Chorus Henceforth — our worth. Our right — our might, Shall be shown. Acknowledged, known ; Mankind shall raise Prayers, vows, praise, To the birds alone. Our employ is to destroy The vermin train. Ravaging amain Your fruits and grain : We're the wardens Of your gardens. To watch and chase The wicked race. And cut them shorter, In hasty slaughter. In the After-speech \hQ Chorus attack {in accelerated rhythm) their mor- tal enemy, the fashionable poulterer Philocrates, and offer a reward for him alive or dead : He, that ortolans and quails to market has presumed to bring. And the sparrows, six a penny, tied together in a string, With a wicked art retaining sundry doves in his employ. Fastened, with their feet in fetters, forced to serve for a decoy. All spectators keeping birds in cages are bidden to let them free.- Antistrophe pictures the allurements of bird life Blest are they. The birds alway. With perfect clothing. Fearing nothing. Cold or sleet or summer heat. As it chances. As he fancies. Each his own vagary follows. Dwelling in the dells and hollows ; When with eager, weary strain The shrilly grasshoppers complain. Parched upon the sultry plain, .Maddened with the raging heat. We secure a cool retreat, The i8 In the shady nooks and coves, Recesses of the sacred groves ; Many a herb, and many a berry, Serves to feast, and make us merry. The After-response promises bird gifts, and threatens bird penalties, to the judges, according as the poet shall win or lose the prize. EPISODE III Enter Talkover to pronounce the sacrifices propitious. He is joined by a Messenger who reports the marvellous rapidity with which the new city has been built. Thirty thousand cranes of Libya swallowed stones for the foundations, comrails chiselled the stones with their bills, river-fowl carried the water, and geese used their feet as shovels to make mortar with, ducks clambered up the ladders and laid bricks, and wood -peckers were the car- penters. The strength of the fortifications has scarcely been described when a Second Messenger enters with news that the blockade has already been broken by Iris, messenger of the gods : thirty thousand light-armed hawks are sent in pursuit of her. After a brief strophe of defiance by the Chorus, Iris is seen flying across the scene, in a grotesque costume that suggests a ship in full sail : Talkover hails her and bids her stop, while a guard of birds enforce his command. A dialogue follows, contemptuous on both sides. Iris is on her father Jupiter's business, and scouts the idea of asking passports from any one. Talkover says if he did his duty he would have to put her to death. Iris. But I'm immortal. Talk. That would make no difference. Finally, as he cannot stop her, he ' shoo's ' her off like a trespassing bird, to her great indignation. — Then enters the Herald sent to mankind, with news of their complete and joyful submission : birds have become all the rage, he says ; and Athenian family names are punned upon to show this. The metre breaks into lyrics, as Talkover and the Chorus prepare bundles of wings for the mortals who will presently claim the rights of citzenship. — This is a transition to the next division of the long Episode, in which successively, a would-be Parricide, Kinesias a dithyrambic poet, and an Informer, come to claim wings and the franchise : to keep up the idea of reversal of all things the first is fairly received and given a military com- mand, while the other two, after some badgering, are horsewhipped back again. CHORAL ODE In this interlude the Chorus begin to tell of the unknown marvels which birds in their flight behold : these marvels unexpectedly turn out local allusions. Strophe We have flown, and we have run, Viewing marvels, many a one, In every land beneath the sun. But the strangest sight to see Was a huge exotic tree Growing without heart or pith, Weak and sappy like a withe, But, with leaves and boughs withal. Comely, flourishing, and tall. , 19 This the learned all ascribe To the sycophantic tribe ; But the natives there, like us, Call it a Cleonymus. In the spring's delightful hours. It blossoms with rhetoric flowers. I saw it standing in the field. With leaves in figure like a shield ; On the first tempestuous day, I saw it cast those leaves away. Antistrophe There lies a region out of sight. Far within the realm of night, Far from torch and candle light. There in feasts of meal and wine Men and demi-gods may join, There they banquet, and they dine, Whilst the light of day prevails. At sunset, their assurance fails ; If any mortal then presumes, Orestes, sallying from the tombs, Like a fierce heroic sprite. Assaults and strips the lonely wight. EPISODE IV £nter Prometheus, disguised with mufilers and carrying an umbrella. He appears in great terror lest Zeus should see him, and does not feel comfortable till he has put up his umbrella between himself and heaven. He is acting his traditional part as the friend of mortals, and comes to give them secret information, that the gods are dreadfully distressed by the blockade, and, if the birds hold out, must yield to their terms. But they must be sure to insist upon one condition: that Jupiter gives up Queenie [Basileia], the damsel who keeps his thunder-closet and looks after his whole govemuient: she will make a nice wife for Talkover. STROPHE (FOR INTERLUDE) This continues the effect of the last Choral Ode. Chorus Beyond the navigable seas. Among the fierce Antipodes, There lies a lake, obscure and holy. Lazy, deep, melancholy. Solitary, secret, hidden. Where baths and washing are forbidden. Socrates, beside the brink, Summons from the murky sink Many a disembodied ghost ; And Pisander reached the coast, To raise the spirit, that he lost. With a victim, strange and new, A gawky camel, which he slew. Like Ulysses — whereupon, 20 The grizzly sprite of Chaerephon Flitted round him, and appeared With his eyebrows and his beard, Like a strange infernal fowl, Half a vampire, half an owl. EPISODE V Enter as ambassadors from Heaven^ Neptune^ Hercules and the Triballian Deity. The last is treated as a sort of barbarian ally of the gods, of whom the other two are ashamed. He speaks unintelligibly, and will not keep his robes straight. Neptune is of course of the highest divine family, while Hercules is one who becomes ambassador for the sake of the feasting and fetes. Talkover understands their respective positions, and affects not to notice their approach, while he is giving orders about cooking, the steam of which is making Hercules anxious for a speedy settlement. Under such circumstances they speedily agree to terms and form an alliance : the bar- barian assenting in gibberish which is interpreted as assent. At the last moment Talkover recollects the condition about Queenie: at the mention of which Neptune indignantly breaks off the negotiation. Talkover calmly goes on with his cooking, and hungry Hercules protests. But Neptune rallies him on risking his own reversion in Jupiter's sovereignty for the sake of a meal. Talkover hears this and taking Hercules aside, warns him that his uncle is making a tool of him ; that he will get nothing by inheri- tance from Jupiter since he is illegitimate — the * son of a foreign woman.' He appeals to him as to whether his father has ever shown him to the wardmen, or taken the other legal steps to make him his heir. Hercules confesses that nothing of the kind has been done, and indignantly makes common cause with the birds. Thus two of the embassy are disagreed : the casting-vote lies with the barbarian, who is appealed to for his opinion. Triballian. Me tell you; pretty girl, grand beautiful queen. Give him to birds. Here. Aye, give her up, you mean. Nep. Mean ! He knows nothing about it. He means nothing But chattering like a magpie. Talk. Well, " the magpies." He means, the magpies or the birds in general. Neptune is forced to be content with this : the treaty is made and the am- bassadors go in to the feast. ANTISTROPHE* (FOR INTERLUDE) Along the Sycophantic shore. And where the savage tribes adore The waters of the Clepsydra,"!" There dwells a nation, stem and strong. Armed with an enormous tongue. Wherewith they smite and slay : With their tongues, they reap and sow, And gather all the fruits that grow. The vintage and the grain ; Gorgias is their chief of pride. * In the original the arrangement of lines is antistrophic. t The water -clock used in Athenian law-courts. 21 And many more there be beside, Of mickle might and main. Good they never teach, nor show But how to work men harm and woe. Unrighteousness and wrong ; And hence the custom doth arise, When beasts are slain in sacrifice, We sever out the tongue. EXODUS A Messenger announces the approach of Queenie: she is seen descending from heaven, amidst gorgeous spectacular effects : the rest of the play con- sists of the wedding procession^ and hymeneal lyrics. 23 LYSISTRATA Note. — This brilliant play is another manifesto of the peace party. It is from its coarseness unreadable in a literal translation, but has been made presentable in the beautiful version of Rogers, from which the quotations that follow are taken. The play is technically of great importance, its choral effects being unique. Dramatis Person^e. — Lysistrata and various other women represent- ing all the principal states of Greece — Athenian Magistrate and his officers, Various Athenians, Lacedaemonian Herald and Ambassadors — Chorus of Athenian Women — Chorus of Athenian Men. Scene: In front of the gates of the Acropolis at Athens PROLOGUE Lysistrata is, after an interval, joined by women she has secretly sum- moned from all cities of Greece to hear a grand scheme by which they, women as they are, can put an end to this horrid war, and enjoy family life again. Amid much discussion and excitement she propounds her idea, which is that all the women of Greece shall strike, and have nothing to do with their husbands or lovers till these promise to bring about peace. For if we women will but sit at home, Powder'd and trimmed, clad in our daintiest lawn, Employing all our charms, and all our arts To win men's love, and when we've won it, then Repel them, firmly, till they end the war. We'll soon get Peace again, be sure of that. [ Thus basis of plot opened.^ The women agree, not without considerable reluctance and misgiving : Eh, but suppose they leave us altogether ! They bind themselves by an oath with the usual formalities of swearing alliance, except that, as a shield is part of the ritual, they prefer to swear this oath of peace over a wine-bottle, of which they drink with great devo- tion. A cry of women's voices within the Acropolis gives evidence that part of Lysistrata's conspiracy is successful, and that the band of elderly women to whom she has committed the task have, under pretence of a women's sacrifice, seized the citadel. They all separate to carry out their respective parts in the plot. PARODE OR CHORUS-ENTRY Enter the orchestra^ on the left, to a rhythm of long iambics^ antiphonal in parts, the Chorus of Men, carrying logs of wood and pans of smoking char- coal. This entrance-ode tells of their purpose, to burn the conspirators out of the citadel ; and of their indignation at the task, toiling up the steep hill at their age, with heavy burdens, all on account of these shameless women. But over this snubby protruding steep Ere we reach our goal at the Castle keep. 23 We've still, with our burdensome load, to creep. And how to manage that blunt incline Without a donkey, I can't divine. Dear, how these two great fire -logs make my wearied shoulders toil and ache. But still right onwards we needs must go, And still the cinders we needs must blow, Else, we'll find the fire extinguish'd, ere we reach our journey's end. Puff! Puff! Puff! O the smoke ! the smoke ! At the end of their song they spread the logs and prepare to fire them. Just then enter the orchestra on the right a Chorus of Wo7nen bearing pitchers of water. They are hastening to the defence of citadel, and fear they may be too late. Yea, for hither, they state, Dotards are dragging to burn us, Logs of enormous weight. Fit for a bath-room furnace. Vowing to roast and to slay Sternly the reprobate women. O Lady Goddess, I pray. Ne'er may I see them in flames ! I hope to behold them with gladness, Hellas and Athens redeeming from battle and murder and madness. EPISODE I Suddenly the two Choruses face one another, and exchange of defiance begins (still in long iambics). From hard words the men begin to threaten blows, the women dare them to carry out their threats. A man makes an attempt, which is the signal for volleys of water out of the buckets, with which the Chorus of Men are drenched to the skins, and their charcoal pans extinguished. At the height of the tumult enter a Magistrate and Officers : the metre changing to blank verse. After in a lordly way dealing out censure to both parties he proceeds to assert the majesty of the law, when Lysis- trata enters from the citadel and confronts him. He orders an officer to arrest her. But another woman comes out to tackle the officer, and when she is ordered into custody yet another is at hand to confront the second officer : and so on, till a whole crowd of women have poured forth from the gates, and a general scrimmage with the guard takes place, Lysistrata cheering on her companions : Forth to the fray, dear sisters, bold allies ! O egg-and-seed-and-pot-herb-market-girls, O garlic-selling-barmaid-baking-girls, Charge to the rescue, smack and whack, and thwack them. The women so far hold their own that the two parties pause, and have a parley on more equal terms {in anapcests, 7oilh occasional antiphonal pass- ages by the Chorus). In a long and spirited dialogue, Lysistrata points out that the old theory has been that war is man's business, and if women offer a word of advice they are told to hold their tongues and mind their spin- ning. But now all that is to be changed. — The testy Magistrate at this point waxes so indignant in his interruptions that some of the girls dance round him (the conversation going on just the same), and, before he knows what is being done, have thrown their wimples and wraps over him and put a spindle into his hand, and made him an image of a spinning woman, to enforce Lysistrata's 24 War shall be Women's business now ! In further dialogue she urges how much better women with their tact will conduct it. Just as a woman, with nimble dexterity, thus with her hands disen- tangles a skein. Hither and thither her spindles unravel it, drawing it out and pulling it plain ; So would this weary Hellenic entanglement soon be resolved by our womanly care. So would our embassies neatly unravel it, drawing it here and pulling it there. Lysistrata proceeds to put the women's case with great skill : but the Magis- trate becomes more impatient than ever, until his girl tormenters dance round him once more, and throw over him this time a shroud, and drive him away, telling him he is keeping Charon waiting. The officers are similarly driven off with buckets of water, and the stage is vacant. DOUBLE CHORUS The Chorus of Men 2inA Chorus of iVomen stand facing one another in the orchestra, and exchanging fierce defiance ; strophes are answered by antistrophesy and each ends with a blow, or missile, by which words have been unexpectedly translated into action. For example, the first strophe of the men ends : And I'll dress my sword in myrtle, and with firm and dauntless hand. Here beside Aristogeiton {creeping up to a statue in the orchestra) resolutely take ray stand. Marketing in arms beside him. This the time and this the place When my patriot arm must deal a — Blow upon that woman's face ! \One of the chorus has darted out and suddenly struck one of the women. There is a similar ending to the antistrophe of the women : Murmuring are ye ? Let me hear you, only let me hear you speak, And from this unpolished slipper comes a — slap upon your cheek ! \One of the women shies her slipper and hits the leader of the men's chorus. So the second strophe of the men ends with the evolutions of the dance bringing them close up to the women, as the ode describes Amazons, and several of the men chorus unexpectedly seize several of the women chorus by the neck and give them a good shaking before they can get free. But in the antistrophe the women evolute nearer and nearer to the men, and, while the latter are watching against a repetition of their own manoeuvre, the leader of the women suddenly seizes the foot of the leader of the men, and upsets him against his unthinking companions, till the whole chorus are floundering on the floor together. And you'll never stop from making these absurd decrees I know. Till I catch your foot and toss you — Zeus-ha'-mercy, there you go ! EPISODE II There is, however, inconstancy of purpose in the band of conspirators. This episode is a picture of Lysistrata's difficulties to keep her flock from escaping and secretly going home. Several are caught and make various 25 absurd excuses. At last Lysistrata confirms their spirits with a mysterious oracle. [The Women's Chorus have joined in this conversation : the Chorus of Men have been ignored.] DOUBLE CHORUS The two Choruses have not been facing one another so long without a mutual attraction making itself felt. Thus though they still exchange defiance, there are suggestions of relenting, such as an offer of a kiss made in a tone of threatening, and a threat of a blow by a speaker who shows she is not insensible to the admiration of the other sex. EPISODE III The husband of one of the women conspirators arrives, beseeching that he may have an interview with his wife, without whose companionship he can- not live. A farcical scene ensues, in which the wife carries out her part of tantalising her uxorious husband ; perpetually coming to him and running back for something she has forgotten. She of course impresses upon him that she can only see him on condition that he enters into the league for peace ; to which he vehemently assents. When at last she has actually come out, and he is throwing his arms round her, she again asks him about voting for peace. " I'll think about it," he says, believing he is now secure of her. But she disentangles herself from his grasp^ and runs back, leaving him to exchange lyric lamentations with the Chorus of Men. [The Chorus of Women have been ignored in this scene.] ^ A Herald from Lacedaemonia meets the Magistrate, and informs him that Sparta has been similarly treated by its women, and proposes a conference for terms of peace. [In this purely mechanical scene neither Chorus has taken any part.] DOUBLE CHORUS The two Choruses continue to exchange (in accelerated rhythm) defiances, which show in each line signs of softening, till at last the men give way, with the reflection : That was quite a true opinion which a wise man gave about you. We can't live with such tormentors, no, by Zeus, nor yet without you ! They make peace : and (a most rare effect in Greek art) form a JOINT CHORUS OF MEN AND WOMEN The words of the Joint Ode express abandonment to general rejoicings. In particular they exhibit a kind of wit more popular in ancient than in modern literature — the reverse-surprise. Thus: all who want money are invited, on this day of joy, to come with purses, large and many of them, and borrow freely all they want, only promising that when the peace comes they will — not repay. Again : a feast is described as preparing, with various dainties being got ready, to which all are freely invited. Come along, like men of mettle ; ■ Come, as though 'twere all for you : Come — you'll find my only entrance Locked and bolted too. EPISODE IV Ambassadors arrive from Laconia (talking, of course, Doric Greek) : they are met by representatives of Athens, and, in an elaborate scene, Lysistrata, 26 assisted by her beautiful maid Reconciliation ^ heals their differences, and brings them to agreement. Exeunt into the Acropolis to feast. JOINT CHORUS The preceding Joint Chorus is continued, with more reverse surprises. CHORAL EXODUS The Athenian banquetters come out of the Acropolis having great diffi- culty* in making the Chorus hear their knocks, the Men and Women being so taken up with one another that they neglect their office of keeping the gates. These Athenians describe, as they come out, the delights of the banquet, and how their former enemies the Lacedaemonians shone as feast companions. They are now carrying torches to escort their visitors. [The point of this appears to be to give the Athenians something to do in the scene, and so leave the Lacedaemonians to pair with the women inside the Acropolis.] Amid this torchlight the Lacedaemonians pour out of the Acropolis and extemporise a Laconian Choral Ode on the stage, with full Doric ritual and language. Then Lysistrata bids them take as partners the Garrison of Women who now appear for the first time from the Acropolis : these descend into the orchestra, and face the Chorus already there. Thus was reached the unprecedented climax of a m QUADRUPLE, OR DOUBLE JOINT CHORUS of (i) Athenian Men and Women and (2) Lacedaemonian Men with their women partners. Each performs an ode, in the manner of the two main rituals of Greece, Ionic and Doric. The Athenian is the dithyramb of wild self-abandonment. Now for the Chorus, the Graces, the minstrelsy, Call upon Artemis, queen of the glade ; Call on her brother, the lord of festivity. Holy and gentle one, mighty to aid. Call upon Bacchus, afire with his Maenades ; Call upon Zeus, in the lightning array'd ; Cal' on his queen, ever blessed, adorable ; Call on the holy infallible Witnesses, Call them to witness the peace and the harmony, This which divine Aphrodite has made. Allala! Lallala! Lallala ! Lallala ! Whoop for victory, Lallalalae I Evoi, Evoi, Lallala, Lallala ! Evae, Evae, Lallalalae. The Lacedaemonian ode maintains the measured self-restraint of the Doric mode. [The translator represents the Doric dialect by Scotch.] The substance is the same — the choral worship of the gods. • Sae we'se join our blithesome voices, Praisin* Sparta, loud an' lang, Sparta wha of auld rejoices In the Choral dance an' sang. O to watch her bonnie dochters * This seems the most probable account of the scene ; but the arrangement of the speakers in the original is rery obscure. I have followed Bergk's text. 27 Sport alang Eurota's waters ! Winsome feet for ever plyin*. Fleet as fillies, wild an' gay. Winsome tresses, tossin', flyin'. As o' Bacchanals at play. With such contrasted choral effects, prolonged amid the torchlight ad libitiniy the play ends. 28 PLUTUS * Persons Represented.— Goodman [Chremylus] : his wife, Little Carian his slave, Publicpest his friend — Chorus of Country People, his neighbours — Plutus God of Wealth — Poverty— Mercury —A Just Man, An Informer, An Old Woman, A Young Man, A Priest of Jupiter. The Scene represents the farm house of Goodman in the centre; on the distant side, the road to Delphi, on the other side the -way to the neighbour- ing town, PROLOGUE Enter from the Delphian road Goodman and Little Carian, following a blind old man. The conversation between master and slave brings out that the master has been in pecuniary trouble, and gone to the oracle to enquire whether it would be well to bring up his son to the practice of the new fashion of cheating; the response bade him follow the first person he should meet on leaving the temple, and this proved to be the blind old man m front.— After some time they go up to him and force him to declare who he is: he admits himself to be the god Plutus in disguise.— Sensation. They enquire as to his squalid appearance : that is because he is just come from the house of the miser Patrocles, who has never washed himself since he was bom.— His blindness? Jupiter blinded him, lest he should confine his favours to the good alone.— They offer to restore his sight if he will consent to remain with them ; and they can assure him they are persons of excellent morals.— But Plutus trembles at the thought of Jupiter's anger. They rally him on his nervousness ; " wealth is the timidest of all things." Does he not understand that all Jupiter's power is owing to himself ? Chrem. Car, Chrem. Car. Chrem. Car. Chrem. Car. Plut. Car. Chrem. Car. Chrem. Car. Chrem. Car. Plut. Chrem. For you are carried on all arts that one can mention ; You set all men to work and stimulate invention. For you a man will sit the whole day cutting leather. One forges brass, another hammers boards together. In fashioning of gold one fellow is expert. One robs his neighbour's house, another steals his shirt. One is a fuller. And another washes fells. This one tans hides for you. And that one onions sells. And all this is for me ?— to think I did not know it ! If great men have long hair — 'tis he who lets them grow it. And does not he supply the council hall with votes ? Of course he does, and find the crews that man our boats. And does he not at Corinth keep the foreign troops ? And is it not through him that Pamphilus still droops ? To him the public owe Philepsius' descriptions. And are indebted for alliance with Egyptians And can I do so much, I, that am only one ? The story of your power is barely yet begun : Your power is infinite : a man may have too much Of everything besides that's reckoned pleasant ; such As love. 29 Car. Bread. Chrem. Music. Car. Sweetmeats. Chrem. Honour. Car. Toasted cheese. Chrem. Prize-winning. Car. Figs. Chrem. Ambition. Car. Dough-nuts. Chrem, Office. Car. Peas. Chrem. But man was never known to have too much of you ! Give him a round three thousand down, — what will he do ? W^ish that it was but four ! Well, give him that, — and then ? Forsooth he'd rather die than live with less than tei ! Plutus feels reassurred and consents to dwell with them. Goodman takes him into his house, sending the slave to summon his neighbours to rejoice with him. CHORUS-ENTRY Concerto {in long iambics). Little Carian jokes the Chorus on their sluggish movements of old age, while they, not knowing any cause yet for rejoicing, cry out at his impudence. • Car. Men who have eaten many a time leek porridge with my master, Good neighbours and good workmen too, pray move a little faster ; Indeed you must knock up the dust, nor grudge a little labour. So pray be quick, 'tis just the nick to serve a worthy neighbour. Chorus You blockhead, don't you see that we make all the haste we can ? What more can be expected from an old and broken man ? You think it fun to make me run without the information Why Chremylus has sent for us, and what his expectation ? When the slave had kept up the quarrel long enough he lets out the secret, which makes a great difference to the briskness of the Chorus's movements. Chorus Shall we be rich ! Car. Of course you will ; dismiss all idle fears; You'll be as rich as Midases, unless you lack the ears. Chorus If that is true — Ri-too-ral-loo ! Away with melancholy : Eh ! dash my wig ! I'll dance a jig : I never felt so jolly ! Thus arrived at the farm-door they proceed to * The verse quotations are from Mr. Rudd's translation. 30 A DANCE, leading to SCENE I Goodman greets the Chorus. He has scarcely begun to talk when his friend Publicpest hurries in, showing how quickly the news has travelled "round the barbers' shops." But Publicpest will not for a moment enter- tain the idea that his friend has come honestly by the rumoured accession of wealth. Pub. Have you really become as rich as they say? Good. Well, I hope to be, if Heaven please ; — there are risks — Pub. Heaven please? Risks? This looks bad. Suddenly rich, and afraid, is suggestive of a man who has done something not quite right Good. How, not quite right ? Pub. If, for example, you should have stolen some gold or silver from the oracle, no doubt intending to repent ? Good. Apollo, averter of evil, not I, indeed! Pub. Don't talk nonsense, my good Sir; I'm certain of it. Good. You need not think anything of the kind. Pub. What a thing it is that there is no good in anybody; all are slaves of gain ! Good. By Ceres, you've lost your senses. Pub. {aside) What a fall from his former good name ! Good. I say you are mad, man ! Pub. '{aside) His very glance has a strange wavering, that tells of a man that has made a villain of himself. Good. I understand your croaking. You want to go shares. Pub. Shares in what ? Good. Just so : but it isn't that, it's something else. Pub. You mean you did not steal it, you — carried it off ? Good. You are an idiot. Pub. You mean to say you have not even committed fraud ? Good. Certainly not ! Pub. Hercules ! What am I to do ? The man won't tell the truth. Good. You accuse before you know. Pub. My good friend, let me settle it for you ; I'll do it at the smallest possible cost. I'll stop the orators' mouths before the town gets an inkling of it. Good. You'll lay out three halfpence in a friendly way, and send in a bill for a shilling. Pub. I fancy I see a certain person sitting at the bar, with suppliant staff in his hand and wife and children weeping round him, for all the world like Pamphilus' painting of the Children of Hercules. Good. On the contrary, I have wherewith to bring it about that none but the good and wise shall be rich. Pub. What do you say ? have you stolen as much as that ? Good. Confound it ! you'll be the death of me. Pub. Nay, you will have none but yourself to thank for your death. Good. No fear of that, seeing I hold possession of Plutus, you old beggar ! Pub. Plutus, says he ! a pretty Plutus you've got ! Good. The god himself.— P«m work for a call from within that will not be denied. Chrem. You to pretend to be our benefactress ! Truly you give us — blains on our toes, Hungering children, withered old women, fleas in numbers that nobody knows. Armies of gnats to slaughter our sleep, ever tmmpeting, while they encircle one's head, * Sleeper, awake ! you may waken to hunger, nevertheless, you must get out of bed.' Bed, did I say ? — 'tis a mattress of rushes, your cover a moth-eaten matting of flags ; Under your head you may have a great stone, and wear for a coat a mere bundle of rags. Add to these treasures the stalks of a mallow, succulent food when one cannot get bread ; Dishes of peas in their season — oh, no ! old tops of the turnip will serve one instead. Is it a stool, or a basin you wish for ? Jars that are broken will serve you ; and then What would you ask more ? — These are the treasures, Poverty, you have presented to men. Poverty retorts that they are confusing the poor man and the beggar. Poor, not a beggar, he wants not and wastes not ; has bread for his eating, and clothes for his back ; All day cheerfully sticking to work he has nothing superfluous, nothing to lack. Happy indeed, is the man you describe, and blessed, by Ceres, the life he has led ! All through his days he has laboured and stinted, yet leaves not enough to bury him, dead. But which, she asks, has the fairer servants to look upon ? His are the men with the * fair round belly ' the fat on their ankles, and gout in the toes ; Mine are the slender, the lithesome, and lively, wasps in the waist, and wasps to their foes ; Chrem. Elegant, terrible wasps if you please, all carefully starved to the requisite shape. Still stronger is the case for Poverty when the character of her servants is considered. Pov. Everywhere look at the Friends of the People, the favourite leaders of public opinion ; While they are poor, how honest and just are their views about popular rights and dominion : Let them, however, but get into office, let them get fat on the spoils of the town : Straight they will turn into rogues, and will talk of the duty of putting the Populace down. Even Goodman has to admit this last argument. But, he makes rejoinder, how IS It that all men hate and fly Poverty ?— She answers that they hate to be corrected : children fly their parents for the same reason.— But Good- Chrem, 33 man takes refuge in the gods, who have all things, whereas they leave penury to mortals. — Poverty meets him on his own ground. Jupiter's poor. And that I will show you by process of reasoning lucid and curt. If he were rich, how could it have happened that when he set up the Olympian cause, Duly to which in quinquennial periods Greeks from all quarters assemble in force, He should have offered the winner no more than a spray of wild olive to set on his hair ? Nothing but gold would have met the occasion, if, as you fancy, he had it to spare. Chrem. Rather, it shows him as valuing gold, and holding his own with remarkable thrift : Nothing is lost from his store, while conquerors go away proud with a trumpery gift. Neither party convinces the other, 2,u^ Poverty is driven off with taunts and blows ; while Goodman takes blind Plutus off to the temple of Aescula- pius, and the chorus filled up the interval with A DANCE — SCENE II Little Carian returns and relates to the Wife of Chremylus (as in a Messenger's Speech) the scene in the temple : how the various sick people came, each bringing his bed, and lay down for the night within the Sacred Building in order round the walls. Various comic incidents fill up the story. How the priest came to the altar on which the offerings of dried figs and cakes were placed, and reverently deposited these — in his pocket. How he himself smelt out a pot of porridge which an old woman had beside her bed, and he, emulous of the piety of the priest, reached his hand towards the porridge — Goodman's Wife. Daring man ! were you not afraid of the god ? Little Carian. Yes, horribly,— lest he should get to the porridge before me. Just as he was reaching it the owner heard a noise and stretched out her hand : he caught it in his teeth and hissed like Aesculapius' sacred snake : the old woman in terror put her head under the bedclothes and he swallowed the porridge. In the dead of night Aesculapius, with his two daughters, Health and Panacea, went round and ministered to each sufferer. They cured Plutus by whistling for two prodigious snakes, which licked his eyeballs and he ^^-vi .—Goodman' s Wife and the slave prepare to meet the god on his return. DANCE — SCENE III The return of Plutus in triumph — already incommoded by crowds of dis- interested people who must wish him joy. He offers formal thanksgiving and will know in future where to bestow his favors. He repels Goodman') Wife in her attempt to deluge him with sweetmeats, in order (he says) to avoid stage effects. [A hit at the poet himself as well as his rivals.] DANCE— SCENE IV A Just Man arrives to offer thanksgiving to Plutus at his deliverance from life-long poverty, the result of helping ungrateful friends. He brings his thread-bare cloak, and clouted shoes to dedicate them before the god 34 Enter to him an Informer in distress that his trade no longer pays and he is being mined. The usual badgering of this unpopular profession takes place. Informer tries to represent himself as a pillar of the state, whose sole object is to aid the established laws, and hinder wrong-doing. Goodman. Has not the constitution appointed magistrates for this express purpose ? Informer. But who is to act as accuser ? Goodman. The constitution says, " Whoever pleases." Informer. That's me. The burden of the constitution rests on my shoulders. Goodman. Alas, poor constitution ! In the end the Informer is forced to change clothes with i\it Just Man^ and then driven off. DANCE — SCENE V An Old Woman enters to complain of a youth, poor but wondrous fair, who but a little while ago loved her, and loaded her with caresses : but now for some reason has suddenly deserted her. The Young Man enters^ crowned with chapletSy and at the head of a band of torchlight revellers. He scoffs at his aged flame and her endearments, cruelly holding up the torch to her face to show the wrinkles. He suddenly, however, recovers his respect for age when he notices that Goodman is in years ; and they go in together. DANCE — SCENE VI Enter Mercury. His occupation as usher to the gods is now fast going (since men now no longer look to heaven for prosperity). He proposes to take service with Plutus : and goes through the list of his divine offices. He will be their Turnkey.— But they never lock their doors. — Then their Chief Merchant.— But they have riches already, and do not need to drive bargains.— Then let them make him Trickster-General.— But they are going in for innocence. — At least he can be Marshal of the Way. — No : the god has got his eyes back, and can see to walk alone. — So he has at last to take service as Pudding-washer. DANCE — EXODUS The Priest of Jupiter himself comes at last : the temples are all deserted and his occupation gone. He enters the service of Plutus, and they form a farcical procession y the Chorus falling in at the rear, singing. 35 A SCENE FROM THE FROGS The god Bacchus and his slave Xanthias have crossed the Styx and arrived m the region of the Dead. Suddenly, a sound of flutes is heard and they stand aside to make way for a * COMUS Torchlight Procession of the Initiated Chorus Come from thy holy seats, Come from thy deep retreats, Come, come, lacchus. Dancing along the mead. Come, thine own troop to lead. Come, come, lacchus. Let the fresh myrtle bough. Studded with flowers, Wave o'er thy crowned brow. Free mirth is ours. • So let thy foot advance. Bold in the graceful dance. This holy company. Gathered for revelry. Wistfully waits for thee : Come, come, lacchus. Xan. Bacc. Much-honored Porserpine, this smell of pork is nice! Pray you be still, and you may chance to get a slice. Chorus Kindle the flaming brands, Uplift them in thy hands. Light! light! lacchus. All the field shines afar ; Thou art our Evening Star, Bright, bright lacchus. Elders, by thee inspired, Cast away pain. Cast away years, and fired Dance in thy train. Be thy bright torch on high Polestar to every eye ; While o'er the dewy lea, Dancing in company. Fleetly we follow thee. Blessed lacchus. AnapcBstic Interlogue A reverent silence fits this place ; and from our Chorus let him depart Who is yet untaught in the Mysteries ; who has stain of guile on his heart ; 36 Who has not won from the Muses' secrets freedom of thought, and bodily grace ; Who has not learned from Cratinus the bull-fed what is befitting the time and the place ; Who takes pleasure in scurrilous jesting, not regarding the ' whom ' and the * when ' ; Who stays not a strife in the city, but is a churl towards his own townsmen ; Who, for his private object, fans their factious fury and mutual hate ; Who, for a gift or favour, ministers wrong for right as their magistrate ; Sells his ship or deserts his post, or, under colour of trafficking, sends, Like a Thorycio, thongs, or hemp, or pitch to serve the enemies' ends ; He who at the feast of Bacchus, having been smartly lashed in a play, Goes to the Courts, and bringing hjs action, nibbles a hole in the poet's pay : These, one and all, I forewarn, I forbid, I pro- hibit from hearing our mystical song ! And summon all others to lend us their voices, and keep this feast the merry night long. Semichorus Semichorus Chorus Semichorus Semichorus Where the turf invites our feet. Where the flowers are rank and sweet. Brave hearts, advance, advance ! Stirring foot and merry lip. Flinging wanton jest and quip, Befit the Mystics' dance. Nay, enough of frolic wit ; Wear the palm who wins in it. Praise ye the Holy Maid ; Lady, Saviour, unto thee. Rise our strains ; for thou wilt be Our never-failing aid. And now with holy hymns adorn Queen Ceres of the golden corn. Ceres, let thine eye be o'er us, Lady of the Mysteries ! Look benignly on thy Chorus ; Shield us from our enemies. So in mirth and dance and song We may while the whole day long. Much.to please the laughter-loving, Much to please the wiser head, May I speak : that, all approving, Everywhere it may be said, Worthily our part was done. Worthily the garland won. 37 Chorus Semichorus Invoke ye now the lusty god Who oft with us the dance has trod. Come, master of the sweetest strain, lacchus come, to guide our train Forth to the Goddess' dwelling ; And show how, toil dispelling. Thy guidance in our festal sport Beguiles the way, and makes it short. Come, lover of the dance and song, lacchus come : to thee belong The skirt in frolic tatters, And sandal rent. What matters ? Protected by thy festal sway, Unchided we may dance and play. Come, lover of the song and dance, lacchus come : looking askance, I saw two eyes that twinkled, A cheek with laughter wrinkled, For she looked merrily at me. lacchus, join our company. Xan. Where is that lass ? for I am much disposed to try To break a jest and dance with her, ■^^^^' And so am 1, Iambic Interlogue Chorus * Now shall we, fellow-mockers. Make game of Archedemus ? Who at the election brought forth nought but blackballs : But now has a large following In the tomb's upper circles, And sets the fashion in hell's rascalry. And Kleisthenes, it's rumored. Amid the musty tombstones, Tears his fair hair, and wounds his dainty cheek. Upon the bare earth flings him, To whine and wail and weep for Sebinus, late of Rogue-and-Rascal street. And Kallias, they tell me, The son of Lady Slattern, Fought at the sea-fight bravely clad in — wench-skin. Bacc. Good people can you tell me where does Pluto dwell? For we are just arrived, and never here before. Chorus Ye need no further go, nor ask again; for knoiv That happily ye stand before the very door, Bacc. You sir, pick up the pack. ♦This and the following fourteen lines are not by Mr. Rudd. 38 39 Xan, Ideas are to lack; It is the very thing he said no great while back. Semichorus Semichorus Ye who have the holy sign, Ye who share the feast divine, Through the flowery grove advance, Form the circle, lead the dance, I must to the deeper shade, Where holy women, wife and maid. Worshipping shall spend the night ; For them I must lift the light. To our meadows, sprent with flowers. With our measured step and sound. Gracefully tread ye the ground ; Ever as the blessed hours Bring the festal season round. Onward to our rosy bowers. Unto us, and us alone, Who, at the divine behest, Duteously have shared our best In service to our own And to the stranger coming guest. Is this cheerful sun-light shown. [Chorus retire to right and left of Orchestra.'] TRINUMMUS: OR TWO-POUND-TEN Persons.— Luxury and Poverty, Allegorical Figures. — Charmides, an Athenian Merchant — his son Lesbonicus (who has a slave Stasimus) — his friend Callicles (who has another friend Megaronides). — Philto, another old Gentleman of Athens — his son Lysiteles. — A Professional Sharper. Scene: Athens^ the street in which is Charmides' house. PROLOGUE Luxury appears conducting her daughter Poverty to the house of Char- mides. She explains to the audience : There is a certain youth dwells in this house. Who by my aid has squander'd his estate. Since then for my support there's nothing left. My daughter I'm here giving him to live with. Megaronides appears on his way to call on his friend Callicles, soliloquis- ing on the painful duty he feels of reproaching him with declension from his old uprightness. Enter Callicles and they exchange greetings. Meg. Save you, Callicles : How do you do ? How have you done ? Cal. So, so. Meg. Your wife, how fares she ? Cal. Better than I wish. Meg. Troth I am glad to hear she's pure and hearty. Cal. You're glad to hear what sorrows me. Meg. I wish the same to all my friends as to myself. Cal. But hearkye — how is your good dame ? Meg. Immortal ; lives, and is like to live. Cal. A happy hearing ! Pray heav'n, that she may last to outlive you ! Meg. If she were yours, faith I should wish the same. Cal, Say, shall we make a swop ? I take your wife. You mine ? I warrant you, you would not get The better in the bargain. Meg. Nor would you Surprise me unawares. Cal. Nay, but in troth You would not even know what you're about. Meg. Keep what you've got. The evil that we know Is best. To venture on an untried ill. Would puzzle all my knowledge how to act. Well — give me a good life, and that's a long one. But mind me now, all joking set apart, I came to you on purpose. 40 cha^ractJr^^'^^"'^^^ ^^^^"^^ *° ^^^^ severely about the change in his friend's Ca/. Meg. Cal. Meg. Cal. How came it in your mind to hold this langua;?e ? For that it doth behove all honest men To keep them both from blame and from suspicion. Both cannot be. For why? -- -, . Is that a question ? Myself of my own bosom keep the key, To shut out misdemeanour; but suspicion Is harbour'd in another's. Thus, if I Suspect you to have stol'n the crown of Jove, From where he stands in the high Capitol, What though you have not done it, I am free However to suspect you, nor can you Prevent me. ?^u?"^^?, ^^ Callicles as his closest friend to tell him what he finds wrong in him, Megaronides details the opinions the town is beginning to have of him, how he IS nickamed Gripe-all, Vulture, and the like, and especially how people talk about his behaviour to his absent friend Charmides This Charmides is understood to have committed the general welfare of his family and affairs to Callicles, his own son being a fast youth, not to be trusted with money ; now, instead of seeking to restrain the young man people say Callicles is abetting his extravagances, and has actually, when the scapegrace sought to raise money by selling his own father's house, aided his plans by himself becoming the buyer. To the astonishment of Megaronides Callicles admits that this rumour is perfectly true • he then with great caution and secrecy lets out the whole story— how that Char- mides, on leaving Athens, committed to him a family secret, viz that a huge treasure was buried in the house, of which the father dared not let his son have any knowledge lest in his absence he should appropriate it. Now Callicles learned all of a sudden that Lesbonicus was going to sell the house • alarmed lest the treasure should pass out of their hands altogether he saw no better device than for himself to purchase the house, and keep it in trust for the tather s return, or for the daughter's marriage portion. Megaronides IS confounded at the mistake he has made, and, when the two friends have amicably parted, inveighs against the gossips which had led him astray. Ev'ry thing They will pretend to know, yet nothing know. They'll dive into your breast, and learn good thoughts ^ Present and future : nay, they can discover What the king whisper'd in her highness's ear, And tell what passed in Juno's chat with Jove. II Enter Lystieles soliloquising [in highly intricate and changeable metres! on life generally; he IS perplexed with his inability to choose between i life of pleasure and a life of thrift. Unnumbered the cares that my heart is revolving, Unmeasured the trouble I bear while I ponder; Myself with myself is afflicted and wasted, My thoughts are a master that cruelly drives me : 41 Yet still comes no answer, no end to my query — To which life of two shall my years be devoted. To love, or to business. He will bring the parties face to face : and first he speaks for love. Love has none but willing subjects : in his nets none other snares But the loving : these he aims at, these pursues, their substance wastes. Smooth-spoken, sharp finger'd, a liar, a sweet-tooth, A robber, a bane to the life of seclusion, A hunter of secrets. Let a lover once be stricken with the kiss of her he loves, In a trice all he has creeps away, melts away. ' Give me this, honey dear, by our love, do not fail ' : — And the goose must reply, * Heart of mine, be it so : Also that, also more, what you wish shall be given.' Thus a victim bound she strikes : Begs for more unsatisfied. With the thought of this waste of money, and the bitter jealousies that vary the sweets of a life of pleasure, the case goes against love. Begone, love, the word of divorcement is spoken ; Love, to me never more be a lover. It is fix'd, I am all for what profits. Enter P/iilto, his father, and the moralising continues [the metre gradually settling down to accelerated rhythm or trochaics^. The father has a general disgust at the thought of modern degeneracy: Upsetting all the good old ways, an evil, grasping, greedy crew, They hold the sacred as profane ; public or private, all is one. The son claims to have lived according to his father's good precepts : the lather checks this self-satisfaction : Cover o'er good deeds with good deeds, tile-like, till no rain comes through : Only he is good, whose goodness ever keeps him penitent. For this very reason, the son replies, he wishes to ask his father's assistance in doing a kindness to a friend in trouble. The moralising Philto seizes the opportunity for a fresh lecture against so helping the bad as to feed their distemper. Lysiteles urges that they are rich enough and to spare. Phil. From however much however little take : is't more or less ? When Philto hears that the friend is the spendthrift Lesbonicus, he again becomes severe, and will not listen to the plea that Lesbonicus has been unfortunate : For, by heaven, the wise man's fortune only by himself is shaped. Lysiteles urges that time is required to mature such prudence. Phil. Length of years is but the relish ; wisdom is the food of life. At last Lysiteles is allowed to explain that he wishes, not to give his friend anything, but to receive from him his sister in marriage without dowry. After a decent show of protest the father consents, and will himself make the proposal. He suddenly sees Lesbonicus and his slave Stasimus coming up the street : and stands aside to hear what they are talking about. The master is angry that all his money is gone again, and demands what has been done with it ? Stas. Eaten and drunk, and washed away in baths ; Cooks, butchers, poulterers, fishmongers, confectioners, 42 43 Perfumers, have devoured it ; — gone as soon As a grain of corn thrown to an ant. Lcsbonicus is hard to convince, and Stasimus has to repeat the sad story. Sias, You cannot eat your cake and have it too ; — Unless you think your money is immortal. The fool too late, his substance eaten up. Reckons the cost. L£s. Th' account is not apparent. Sias. Th' account's apparent, but the money's gone. Pkilto discovers himself, and, after general courtesies, makes his proposal. Lesbonicus treats it as a mockery, though the slave jumps at the idea. Phil, You tell me now, We are not on a footing ; that your means Don't equal ours. Les. I say so. PhU. What of that ?— If you were present at a public feast, And haply some great man was plac'd beside you, Of the choice cates serv'd up in heaps before him Would you not taste, but at the table rather Sit dinnerless, because he neigbour'd you ? Les. Sure I should eat, if he forbade me not. Stas. And I, ev'n if he did ; — so cram myself, I'd stuff out both my cheeks : I'd seize upon The daintiest bits before him, nor give way to him In matters that concem'd my very being. At table no one should be shy or mannerly, Where all things are at stake, divine and human. Phil. Faith, what you say is right. Stas. I'll tell you fairly. Your great man, if I meet, I make way for him. Give him the wall, show him respect, but where The belly is concem'd, I will not yield An inch, — unless he box me into breeding. Phil. The match that I propose for your consent. Why will you not agree to ? — What are riches ? — The gods alone are rich : to them alone Is wealth and pow'r : but we poor mortal men, When that the soul, which is the salt of life Keeping our bodies from corruption, leaves us, At Acheron shall be counted all alike, The beggar and the wealthiest. Lesbonicus is moved by this persistent kindness, and at last bethinks him of a little farm he has, the only bit of his ancestral estate left to him : he insists upon giving this as his sister's dowry. Stas. Dear master, would you part then with our nurse. That feeds us ? our support ? think what you're doing. How shall we eat in future ? Les. Hold your tongue. Am I accountable to you ? Stas. {aside) We're ruined Past all redemption, if I don't invent Some flam. — I have it. Philto a word with you. Phil. Stas. Phil. Stas. Phil. Stas. Phil. Stas. Phil. Stas. Les. Seas. Phil. Stas. Phil. Stas. Phil. Stas. Phil. Stas. PhU. Stas. What would you ? Step aside this way a little. I will. {They retire.) The secret I shall now unfold Let not my master know, nor any other. Me you may safely trust. By gods and men I do conjure you, let not this same farm Come into your possession, or your son's. The reason will I tell. I fain would hear it. First then, whene'er the land is plough'd, the oxen Ev'ry fifth furrow drop down dead. Fie on it I A passage down to Acheron's in our field. The grapes grow mouldy as they hang, before They can be gather'd. He is, I suppose. Persuading him : though he's an arrant rogue, To me he's not unfaithful. Hear what follows. When that the harvest promises most fair. They gather in thrice less than what was sown. Nay ! — then methinks it were a proper place For men to sow their wild oats where they would not Spring up. There never was a person yet. That ever own'd this farm, but his affairs Did turn to bad : — some ran away, some died, Some hang'd themselves. Why, there's my master now, To what sad straits is he reduc'd ! O keep me Far from this farm. You'd have more cause to say so. Were you to hear the whole. There's not a tree But has been blasted with the lightning ; more — The hogs are eat up with the mange ; the sheep Pine with the rot, all scabby as this hand : And no man can live there six months together. This farm is a fit spot, as you've described it. Wherein to place bad men, and, as they tell us That in those islands still * The Fortunate ' Assemble the upright and the virtuous livers, So should the wicked here be thrust together, Since 'tis of such a nature. 'Tis th' abode Of misery. But without more words, — whatever Evil you'd search for, you might find it here. You may go seek it there, or where you will. Be cautious how you tell what I have told you. You've told it to no babbler. Now my master Would gladly part with it, could he but find A gudgeon to his purpose. t 44 P^^' I'll have none of it. Stas. If you are wise, indeed you will not have it. Philto has been as ready to be deceived as Stasimus to deceive him : and the old man now retires, after making the betrothal a formal agreement, and adding that this business of the farm Lysiteles must settle with his son. Stasimus is sent with the news to the young lady. Ill Stasimus meeting Callicles gives him the news of the betrothal : Callicles goes off wondering how the girl can have made so good a match without a dower. Then the slave sees the two young men disputing warmly, evi- dently about this vexed question of the dower, in which Stasimus feels so keen a personal interest that he stands aside and listens. The dispute is long and warm, bringing out the contrast of character between the two friends. Lesbonicus is presented as a spendthrift who is notwithstanding stubborn in his notions of family honour, though the assertion of it is at the cost of his own ruin. Let me not by loss of honour seek relief from loss of wealth. Lysifeles sees clearly what the other means. He will insist on giving up this the last bit of property left him, the only hope for recovering his losses : and then, as soon as the marriage is over, he will fly from his native land, a needy adventurer in the wars !— At this Stasimus can no longer restrain himself, and cries out, " Bravo !" Lesb. What brings here your meddling chatter ? *S'/«J. What — shall take it back again. Stasimus retires, and listens as Lysiteles makes a final condition of the marriage that there shall be no dowry. Stasimus despairs : they will have to turn soldiers. Enter Mesaronides and Callicles in consultation on the new turn given to the whole affair by this matter of the betrothal. Callicles cannot let his friend's daughter be married like a pauper: he could easily get money enough for the dowry out of the buried treasure, but under what pretext can he give It to the girl, without exciting suspicion ? At last Megaronides hits upon a brilliant idea. Let them get one of the professional sharpers, that are ready to be hired for any purpose of conspiracy ; and let him, for a con- sideration, pretend that he has come from Charmides abroad, bringing money to Callicles with which to dower his daughter, should she marry. Difficulties of detail, such as forging the letter, and accounting for the absence of the signet-ring which would naturally accompany it, they rap- idly arrange, and exeunt to carry out the scheme. IV Enter Charmides just landed from his voyage, and giving thanks to the gods for his safe journey. And to thee before all others, Neptune, is my spirit grateful. For, while men have called thee cruel, stern of mood, unsatiated, Measureless in might and foulness, I thy kindly aid have tasted. Merciful and calm I found thee, all that heart could wish of ocean, faithful thou whom men call faithless. Surely, but for thy protection, Foully had thy underworkers torn in pieces, widely scattering. Wretched me and my belongings, broadcast o'er the sky-blue meadows : Sharper 45 Lo, like hungry hounds the whirlwinds round about the ship were circling, Floods above us, waves beneath us, howling gales on mainmast swooping, Toppling yards and canvas splitting : then a gracious calm was sent us. His meditations are interrupted by the approach of the hired Sharper^ who is peering up and down the street, dressed in a queer imitation of foreign costume. Sharper I'll name this day the Feast of Two-Pound-Ten, On which I've let my art out for that sum. Here am I, from Seleucia just arrived, Arabia^ Asia, Macedon, — which I never Saw with my eyes, nor ever once set foot on. Behold, what troubles will not poverty Bring on a needy wretch! For those gold pieces Am I compelled to say that I receiv'd These letters from a man, of whom I'm ignorant Who he may be ; nor do I know, indeed. If such an one was ever born. Charmides does not like the man's face, especially as he is looking hard at his own house door. He goes up to him, and finds on inquiry that he is seeking his own son Lesbonicus. Charm. Why do you want to find them out ? Who are you ? W^hence are you ? where d'you come from ? Hey! You ask So many questions in a breath, I know not Which to resolve you first : but if you'll put them Gently and singly, one by one, my name I'll tell, and wherefore I have journey'd hither. Charm, Well,— as you please. Come,— tell me first your name. Sharper You ask an arduous task. Charm. Why so ? Sharper ' Because, Should you set out before the day began With the first part and foremost of my name. The night would go to bed ere you had reach'd The hindmost of it. He had need of torches And of provisions, whoso undertakes To journey through it. I've another name though ; A tiny one, — no bigger than a hogshead. This is a rogue in grain ! But harkye — What ? What want you with those persons you enquired for ? Sharper The father of the young man, Lesbonicus, Gave me these letters. He's my friend. Charm, {aside) I have him,— He's taken in the manner. He pretends Myself did give him letters, — I will have Rare fun with him. Sharper Attend, and I'll proceed. Charm. I am attentive. Sharper He commissioned me To give one letter to young Lesbonicus, His son, the other to his friend, to Callicles. Charm. Sharper Charm. Sharper Charm. 46 47 He has managed matters well. Charm, {aside) A pretty joke, i'faith ! I'll keep it up. Where was he ? *- f Sharper Charm. Where ? Sharper In Seleucia. cf ''T' Axr-.u u. . ^^" ^^^ ^«"«^ of him ? ^/4«r/.fr With his own hands he gave them into mine. Charm. What sort of man ? Sharper He's taller than yourself By half a foot. Charm, {aside) Faith, he has gravell'd me, 1 o find that I was taller when away Than now I'm here. You knew him, did you not ? Sharper Knew him ? A foolish question 1 We were us'd To mess together. Charm. Say then, what name bore he ? Sharper A fair one verily. Charm. I'd hear his name. Sharper {hesitating) It's — it's — ah me ! — his name is — ^f^''^- ,, What's the matter ? Sharper I ve swallowed it this instant unawares. Charm. How ? swallowed, say you ? troth, I like him not. Who holds his friends inclos'd within his teeth. Sharper I had it at my tongue's end but just pow. Charm, {aside) 'Twas opportune my coming here to-day Before this rascal. Sharper {aside) I'm caught most plainly. Charm. Have you yet found the name ? Sharper 'Porg g^^s and men I own myself abash'd. Behold how much You knew him ! As myself. It happens oft That what we hold in hand, and have in sight We look for as if lost. I'll recollect it Letter by letter. It begins with C. Is it Callicias ? No. Calippus ? No. Charm. Is't Callidemides ? Sharper No. Charm. Callinicus ? Sharper -^^ Charm. Is't Callimarchus ? Sharper 'Tis in vain to seek it, Nor do I heed it much, so my own name I don't forget. Charm. But there are many here Call'd Lesbonicus ; and, unless you tell The father's name, I cannot shew them to you Whom you enquire for. What is't like ? We'll try If we can hit upon it by conjecture. Sharper 'Tis like Char. Charm. Jg it Chares ? Charidemus ? Or Charmides ? Charm. Sharper Charm. Sharper Charm, Sharper < l< Sharper Oh, that. The gods confound him ! Charm. 'Tis fitter you should bless a friend than curse him. Sharper A worthless fellow to have lain perdue thus Within my lips and teeth. Charm. ^ ou should not speak 111 of an absent friend. Sharper Why did the knave Then hide him from me ? Charm. He had answer'd had you But caird him by his name. Where is he now ? Sharper Truly I left him last at Rhadamanth In the Cecropian Island. Charm, {aside) Can there be A greater simpleton than I, to ask Where I myself am ? But no matter. Tell me — Sharper What? Charm. Let me ask, what places have you been at ? Sharper Most wondrous ones. Charm. I should be glad to hear, If 'tis not too much trouble. Sharper I'm impatient To give you an account. Then first of all, We came to Araby in Pontus. Charm, How ? Is Araby in Pontus ? Sharper Yes, it is ; But not that Araby, where frankincense Is grown, but where sweet-marjoram, and wormwood. Charm, {aside) 'Tis the completest knave ! More fool am I though. To ask him whence I came (which I must know. He cannot), but that I've a mind to try. How he'll get off at last. — What is your name, Young man ? Sharper 'Tis Touchit ; that. Sir, is my name, A common one. Charm. A very knavish name. As though you meant to say, if anything Was trusted to you, touch it, and 'tis gone. But harkye, — whither did you further travel ? Marvellous travels of the Munchausen order are narrated until Charmides has had enough, and begins to come to the point. Charm. Hoa, Touchit, Three words with you. Sharper Three hundred, if you please. Charm. Have you the money you received of Charmides ? Sharper In Phillippeans, told upon the nail, A thousand pieces. Charm. You received them, did you, Of Charmides himself ? Sharper It had been wondrous Had I receiv'd them of his grandsire, truly. Or his great-grandsire, who are dead. Charm. Young man. Prithee give me the gold. 48 Sharper Charm. Sharper Charm. Sharper Charm. I'l' Sharper Charm. Sharper Charm. Sharper Charm. Sharper Charm. Sharper Charm. Sharper Charm. Sharper Charm, Sharper Charm. Sharper Charm. Sharper Charm. Sharper Charm. Sharper Charm. Give you what gold ? That which you own'd you did receive of me. Received of you ? I say it. Who are you ? Who gave to you the thousand pieces : — I Am Charmides. You're not, nor ever shall be, I mean, the master of this gold. Away, You are a knowing one ! — you'd take me in I But I too am a knowing one. I'm Charmides. You may be, but in vain. I bring no money. You've crept upon me in the very nick Most slyly. When I said I had brought gold, You then were Charmides ; before you were not, Till 1 made mention of the gold. 'Twont do. So prithee, as you've taken up the name Of Charmides, e'en lay it down again. Who am I, if I am not that I am ? What's that, to me ? Be whom you please, you're welcome, So you are not the person I'd not have you. Before, you were not who you were ; and now, You are who then you were not. Come, dispatch. How ? What dispatch ? Give me the money. Sure You dream, old gentleman. Did you not own. That Charmides had giv'n it you ? I did,— In writing, — not in specie. Prithee hence, And leave the place this instant, e'er I order you A hearty drubbing. Why? Because myself Am that same Charmides that you've invented ; Who you pretend has giv'n you letters. How! I pray you, are you he ? Yes, I am he. What say you ? are you he ? I am, I say. Himself ? I say, I'm Charmides, — himself. And are you he himself ? His very self. — Out of my sight ; begone, then. Now, because Your coming was so late, I'll have you beaten At the new ^diles' and my own award. What ! you abuse me ? I \l 49 Sharper All the gods confound you For your anival ! I had little cared, If you had perish'd first. I've got at least The money for my trouble. Ill betide you ! And now, or who you are, or who you are not, I value not a straw. To him I'll go. Who hir'd me for those pieces, and acquaint him. How that his money's thrown away. I'm gone. Farewell ? Fare ill ! May all the gods confound you. For coming from abroad, you Master Charmides ! When at last he is alone, Charmides wonders what the meaning of all this business can be : the bell does not clink without being handled. He happens to see Stasimus running along the street, talking to himself, and stands aside to listen. Stasimus is heard to speak of having lost a ring at the tippling-house : he alternately runs on and stops, hesitating whether to go back in the hopeless chance of getting his ring again. There was Theruchus, Cerconicus, Crinnus, Cercobulus, Collabus, A race of broken-shin'd and black-eyed bruisers, Knights of the chain, and squires o'th' whipping-post. And canst thou hope then, from among such fellows To get thy ring, when one of them did steal A racer's shoe off in his utmost speed ? Charm. 'Fore heav'n, a finish'd thief ! Stas. What's best to do ? Shall I, in seeking what is gone forever. Add loss of labour too ? What's gone, is gone. Then tack about, and hie thee to thy master. Stopping at last near where Charmides is standing unseen, he vents his vexation in a long tirade against the decay of public morals ; instead of the good old thrift, vice is now the road to honour. What you lend is lost ; And when you ask it of your friend again. You by your kindness make that friend your enemy. Still would you press him further, of two things You have the choice, either to lose your loan, Or lose your friend. At this point Charmides recognizes in the speaker his own slave, and when at last Stasimus is going, shouts to him to stop. For a time the slave does not know who is calling him, and is saucy. At last Charmides declares himself. Charm. Turn your head. And look upon me : I am Charmides. Stas. Ha ! who makes mention of that best of mortals ? Charm. That best of mortals, he himself, 'tis I. Stas. {turning) O sea ! O earth ! O heav'n ! O all ye gods ! Have I my eyesight clear ? and is it he ? Or is it not ? 'Tis he ! 'tis he, for certain ! 'Tis he indeed ! O my most wish'd-for master, Save you — Charm. And you, too, Stasimus. Stas. Charm. 50 That you're safe — {interrupting) I know what you would say, and do believe you. Explanations follow as to Charmides' family and the position of his affairs ; and Stasimus insinuates his unfavourable view of Callicles' personal motives in his discharge of the trust committed to him. The entrance of Callicles at this point soon clears up this misunderstanding, though Stasi- mus maintains his unfavourable opinion to the last. The last Act is filled up by the meeting between Charmides and all the various personages of the story, together with the clearing up of all that is obscure. The merchant confirms the betrothal of his daughter to Lysiteles, and provides an ample dowry for her, notwithstanding the lover's protest ; if he likes the maiden, he must like the portion too. Lesbonictts has to bear only gentle reproaches from his father, and Callicles promises him his daughter in marriage if he will turn over a new leaf. Les- bonicus declares he will take her, and, he adds, anyone else his father wishes. Charm. Angry though I be with you. One man, one woe, is the quota. Callicles. Nay, too little in this case : Since for such a hardened sinner twenty wives were not too much. Lesbonicus promises amendment, and all ends happily. XTbe Tllnfversitis ot CJbfcago THE UNIVERSITY EXTENSION THE LECTURE -STUDY DEPARTMENT No. 39, Part I. ANCIENT COMEDY FOR ENGLISH AUDIENCES, v SYLLABUS OF A COURSE OF SIX LECTURE-STUDIES BY RICHARD G. MOULTON, A.M. (CANTAB.), PH.D. (PENN.) »%» PROFESSOR OF LITERATURE (IN ENGLISH) CHICAGO iTbe inniverdltis ot Cbicaao pre00 1900 EXERCISES \ Topics for exercises are given at the end of the outline of each lecture. Answers in writing, to not more than two questions each week, are invited from all persons attending the lecture. These should be written on one side of the paper only, a broad margin being reserved on the left. The name of the centre, with some signature of the writer, should stand at the top of the first page. The exercises should be sent to Richard G. Moulton, A. M. Ph. D., The University of Chicago, Chi- cago, so as to arrive at least two days before the following lecture. They will be re- turned at the Review, the following week, with such marginal and oral comments as they seem to require. If application is made to the lecturer, there will be an Exam- ination at the end of the course for students who are qualified and desire to take it. Any of the books referred to in these lectures may be obtamed at special rates from The University of Chicago Press, Chicago, 111. Prices will be quoted on application. UNIVERSITY CREDIT 7OR LECTURE-STUDY COURSES Readings in connection with each lecture are designated in the syllabus. The syllabus is provided with a perforated leaf upon which each student doing the full amount of assigned reading, or in addition to the reading, rendering to the lecturer the full number of written papers, is invited to record that fact. This leaf may be sent by the student to the lecturer who will certify to it by his signature, and will add such comments as he thinks appropriate. The leaf will then be returned by the lecturer to the student. Applicants for University standing in any department must satisfactorily con form to the requirements laid down by the University in reference to entrance examinations. Passing satisfactorily an examination upon a course of twelve lecture-studies entitles a student, under the conditions of the foregoing paragraph, to the privilege of presenting himself at the University for the University examination upon that subject, if application be made within twelve months of the termination of the course. The terms of examination for University Credit upon University Extension lecture-studies are as follows: Any student who has attended a twelve-lecture study course, satisfied the lec- turer in the amount of assigned reading, rendered the required number of written papers, and satisfactorily passed the examination set by the lecturer may, upon pre- senting the weekly and examination papers to the University Examiner, paying the usual examination and matriculation fees and passing a satisfactory examination at the University, receive credit in the University for a Minor in the subject upon which the course has been given. This credit will depend upon the character of the paper work as well as upon that of the examination. Non-resident students may not offer for the Bachelor's degree more than one- half of the work required for that degree. They may not offer for the degrees of B.D. or Ph.D. more than one-third of the work required for those degrees. In everj' case examination upon the work must be passed at the University, or at one of the regular examinations conducted by the University. In the case of advanced subjects, the examinations for entrance to the Univer- sity shall have been passed, and also such examinations in preliminary subjects as may be required for the subject offered. Students presenting themselves for these examinations must attain the grades required in all the regular examinations of the University, ANCIENT COMEDY FOR ENGLISH AUDIENCES This is a course of recitals and lectures intended to intro- duce popular audiences to the general character of Ancient Classical Comedy, and its influence on the Romantic Drama of Shakespeare's age. 1. The Clouds: A Burlesque on Socrates and the New Education. 2. The Origin of Greek Comedy. 3. The Birds: A Burlesque on Speculative Enterprise. 4. Evolution of Greek into Roman Comedy. 5. The Trinummus : or Two-Pound-Ten. 6. Evolution of Ancient into Modern Drama. Reading The accompanying Book of Illustrations is all the reading recommended for the course, though other books may be mentioned from time to time. ANCIENT COMEDY FOR ENGLISH AUDIENCES ORIGIN OF COMEDY IN ANCIENT GREECE I. In ultimate origin Comedy, like Tragedy, traces back to a combination between two offshoots of the Ballad Dance : The Comus, or Wandering Dance, used in the festival worship of Dionysus [compare the phallic procession]. Satire [compare the modern Lampoon], a form which rapidly threw off the influence of music and gesture, and developed the * iambic ' metre, which approaches prose. The amalgamation appears as * Lyrical Comedy,' or * Iambic Dance.' From one of the two constituent elements came satiric purpose ; from the comus (as in Tragedy) came the creative force which makes dramatisation. Thus Comedy when fully developed could serve as the newspaper of antiquity, com- bining the functions of the Satiric Review, and the Comic Paper which satirises by cartoons. [A transition stage in this evolution survives in a scene of the Frogs f in which a comus-procession halts at intervals to. exchange bouts of satire with passers-by.] 2. Greek society was compounded of two strata: Aristo- cratic (Doric influence) and Democratic (Ionic influence). Comedy in its early history is seen fluctuating under these two influences : Where Aristocratic influence prevails, it is limited to general satire or class-caricature — especially, Sicilian Comedy, with its use of mythology for satiric purpose [the gods are men writ large]. Where Democratic influence prevails, there is free hand- ling of personalities and political questions. 3. The golden age of Grecian history, the leadership of democratic Athens after the Persian Wars [about 450-400 B. C] suddenly raises Comedy into world literature. ANCIENT COMEDY FOR ENGLISH AUDIENCES OLD ATTIC COMEDY This is the name given to the first species of comedy which secured a place in permanent literature — under the influence of Athenian democratic spirit — and by the individual genius of Aristophanes. 1. Matter and Spirit. Unlimited license — as regards decency, current politics, personalities, sacred topics. [Of the eleven plays of Aristophanes four are manifestos of the peace party: Acharnians^ Knights^ Peace^ Lynstrata — five deal with social and religious topics : Clouds (rationalism), Wasps (the forensic craze), Birds (speculations), Women in Parliament and Plutus (socialist theories) — two are satires on the poet laureate of the popular party : Mysteries^ Frogsi\ 2. Form : Natural development disturbed by imitation of the form of Tragedy, in order to secure equal rights of public production. [Compare Aristotle's words : " It was late before Comedy obtained a chorus from the magistrate."] Structure of Old Attic Comedy The dramatic structure of Old Attic Comedy is thus that of Tragedy slightly modified. 1. Prologue: dramatic scene preceding the appearance of the Chorus. 2. Parode or Chorus-Entry : usually seized upon for special masque or pantomime effects. 3. i\n alternation of Choral Odes and Episodes to any num- ber of each. The episodes (as in Tragedy) may include Forensic Contest, Messenger's Speech, and Rheses. 4. One (or more) of the Choral Interacts is usually given up to what is a special distinguishing feature of Old Attic Comedy, the Parabasis (or Digression), in which the Chorus faced the audience and spoke for the author as fn a modern Preface. The Parabasis has a structure of its own. i. The Introduction [kommationy. a few short lines, bespeaking attention. — 2. Parabasis Proper (usually in anapaests) : characterisation of Chorus dropped, they speak directly for the poet. — 3. Strophe ANCIENT COMEDY FOR ENGLISH AUDIENCES ANCIENT COMEDY FOR ENGLISH AUDIENCES and Antistrophe of dance and song, as a break, before and after the After-speech. — 4. After-speech [epirrhema] and After- response [ant-epirrhema] in accelerated rhythm, dealing with some serious political topic : the characterisation of the Chorus usually resumed. 5. The Exodus or Finale: the dramatic scene following the last Choral break. The metrical structure of Ancient Comedy is very rich — variation between one metrical style and another is always a source of effect. Six metrical styles may be noted. — i. Blank Verse {iambic senarius: very close to English blank verse).— 2. Lyrics; the regular medium for Choral Odes (rapid variation, usually strophic arrangement, dancing and musical accompaniment implied).— 3. Accelerated Rhythm (trochaics, long lines).— ^. Anapoests : identified with Parabasis Proper and Invocation of Chorus (usually long lines, with shorter lines for climax). — 5. Long Iambics {iambic tetrameter] : this and No. 4 regularly used for Forensic Contests, with a tendency to reserve No. 5 for the bad side. — 6. Epic Rhythm {hexameter] : rarely used, for oracles, etc. FURTHER DEVELOPMENT OF ANCIENT COMEDY Owing to its abnormal origin Greek Comedy tended to develop with great rapidity; the. force of natural evolution being assisted by two other forces : (a) The unstable equilibrium of elements in Old Attic Com- edy, from its combination of tragic form with comic matter — Tragedy itself being, in form, an unstable com- bination of drama and lyric. (fi) The passage from Greek to Roman : the Roman comic poets neither followed nor rejected Greek models, but used freely actual Greek comedies, which they altered, modified, combined, at will. The evolution of Comedy seems even more rapid than it actually was owing to the loss of plays illustrating intermediate stages — ancient historians recognized: Old Attic Comedy [450-400 13. C] : all but plays of Aristophanes lost. ' 2. Middle Attic Comedy [400 B. C. to 350] : all lost. New Attic Comedy [350 B. C. to 291] : all lost except so far as it is preserved in the Roman adaptations. [Chief name, Menander]. Roman Comedy is preserved in the works of Plautus [died 184 B. C] and Terence [died 159 B. C.]. Evolution in Matter. Old Attic Comedy seems to pass through the stages : Party politics — Literary party rivalry — Purely general or social satire. In Roman Comedy the dramatic purpose [chiefly love] has become the main motive, and satire in the form of class- caricature [slaves, schemers, parasites, etc.] gravitates to the underplot. Loss of specific distinctiveness [reversion to type] as Cho- ral Comedy. The Chorus in Comedy was highly unstable, a foreign element introduced for non-literary reasons: even within the plays of Aristophanes it is seen developing in two opposite directions : (a) On the one hand the Chorus becomes more and more lyrical, losing connection with the plot, and approach- ing to the character of an entre-acte. [Compare PluiusJ] In Roman Comedy it had fallen out, its place supplied by music. Comedy has thus reached its modern struc- ture : successive ' Acts ' separated by intervals. {h) On the other hand the Chorus increases its dramatic function and passes into the plot. [Compare the multi- plication of Choruses in the LysistrataJ] Development in Plot. The conception of plot in Old Attic Comedy was unique : (i) The origination and devel- opment of an Extravagant Fancy as a medium for satire. (2) But with this went the prominence of Incidental effects [tours-de-force of irrelevance or wit], making an aggregate of interest not inferior to that of the plot itself. In Roman Comedy we find : 8 ANCIENT COMEDY FOR ENGLISH AUDIENCES ANCIENT COMEDY FOR ENGLISH AUDIENCES (a) The Extravagance has gradually changed into Proba- bility [Complication and Resolution]. (d) But the Incidental effects have unified and developed into a regular Underplot [Farce, Caricature, etc.]. The general form of plot in Roman Comedy is thus : An Opening Situation of Complication is developed to a Resolu- tion. [In multiplication of actions (main and inferior) a Roman Comedy is as complex as an Elizabethan drama : but the unities of time and place are rigidly maintained.] THE RELATIONS BETWEEN ANCIENT AND MOD- ERN DRAMA 1. The whole of the Ancient Drama may be regarded as a single piece of unbroken development. Tragedy had been the first to rise into elaborateness of literary form : its progress beyond Euripides was arrested, but meanwhile its form had, under exceptional circumstances, been taken over by Comedy, and this underwent continuous develop- ment up to the point of Roman (New Attic) Comedy. In this form : (a) Ancient Drama anticipated two main characteristics of Modern Drama: distinction of passion-plot and action- plot, and multiplication of stories. (d) On the other hand it had certain strict limitations : separation of Tragedy and Comedy — confinement to heroic myths in the former and a very narrow area of life in the latter — especially: the mere representation of the crisis of a story, involved in the unities of time and place. 2. The * Dark Ages* succeed: with the almost total extinc- tion of reading. In the ten centuries or more the place of Drama to the non-reading classes is taken by Story — the wandering class of jugglers, minstrels, trouv^res, etc., pur- vey to the people fiction in narrated prose or verse. [Note the change in the meaning of * tragedy' and * comedy.*] li At the close of the Dark Ages this mass of floating stories comes to be known as * Romance,* from the Romance languages spoken by the minstrels. 3. The agency for bringing together this Drama of the Ancients and this Story of the Dark Ages was provided in the Old English Mysteries and Miracle Plays, which from the twelfth to the sixteenth centuries served in the place of sermons, and had for their purpose the application of dra- matic form to {Scripture) Story. [Not only would they act the incident proper to a Saint's Day independently of changes of scene and place, but the scenes gradually grew into the Collective Miracle Play, which in a succession of scenes put the history of the world from the Creation to the Day of Judgment. The effort after realism gave plenty of scope for the * mixture of tones.'] 4. Then came the * Renaissance ' of Classical Literature, reach- ing England fully in the Elizabethan period, and bringing all three elements together. {a) Elizabethan Dramatists were mostly university and pub- lic school men, trained in the Ancient Drama. {b) They took their materials from the story-books of the Middle Ages, and their main purpose was to dramatize the story. (c) They played to audiences trained in the Mediaeval English Drama of Miracles, Moralities, etc. Hence the * Romantic Drama,* which applies the dra- matic strictness of Ancient Classical literature to Mediae- val Romance. As a result of this union : (a) From the Ancient Drama the Romantic derived strict conceptions of plot, deep character interest, and high literary elaborateness. (b) The other ancestor. Story, broke down the classical uni- ties of time and place, and caused the whole story to be acted, and not merely its crisis. [The multiplication of stories, substituting harmony of actions for unity of 10 ANCIENT COMEDY FOR ENGLISH AUDIENCES action, had already been anticipated by the Roman Comedy.] (c) The influence of the Popular English Drama (Miracles, Mysteries, and Moralities), which brought the two ele- ments of Drama and Story together, secured forever the mixture of tones, serious and comic, which was the main outcome of its realism. Romantic Drama having thus been naturally developed, the individual genius of Shakespeare and his contemporaries solidified its literary qualities, and fixed it as one of the lead- ing species of the Universal Drama. TOPICS FOR EXERCISES OR DISCUSSION I 1. Describe Socrates, as he was, and as he is made to appear in burlesque. 2. Dress the Chorus of Clouds for their part. II 1. Show how Comedy served as the newspaper of antiquity. 2. Explain the word comus. Ill 1. Give example of the ingenuity with which Aristophanes adapts bird life to human life. 2. Sketch an original plot, on the model of Old Attic Comedy, satirising 'expansion ' or * anti-expansion ' ideas. IV 1. Show how the Lysistrata and Plutus are interesting in the history of Comedy. 2. Discuss the arguments of Poverty in the play. V 1. Describe the chief characters in the Trinummus. 2. Trace the plot of the Trinummus as " an opening Situation of Complication developed to a Resolution." ( i I •r^>-^^T^'rA^-^ ,"it- ..^;"^ / JdL Hi: Oi |o SO) ]ir> :CsJ :0 iO r-^aF*r ■^ ST.. ^V^ f*^"-i5fi