Chapter 1

HIPPOLYTUS and THE BACCHAE

By Euripides

Translated by GILBERT MURRAY

Nine Greek Dramas

By Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides And Aristophanes

Translations By E.D.A. Morshead E.H. Plumptre Gilbert Murray And B.B. Rogers

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

Euripides, the youngest of the trio of great Greek tragedians was born at Salamis in 480 B.C., on the day when the Greeks won their momentous naval victory there over the fleet of the Persians. The precise social status of his parents is not clear but he received a good education, was early distinguished as an athlete, and showed talent in painting and oratory. He was a fellow student of Pericles, and his dramas show the influence of the philosophical ideas of Anaxagoras and of Socrates, with whom he was personally intimate. Like Socrates, he was accused of impiety, and this, along with domestic infelicity, has been supposed to afford a motive for his withdrawal from Athens, first to Magnesia and later to the court of Archelaüs in Macedonia where he died in 406 B.C.

The first tragedy of Euripides was produced when he was about twenty-five, and he was several times a victor in the tragic contests. In spite of the antagonisms which he aroused and the criticisms which were hurled upon him in, for example, the comedies of Aristophanes, he attained a very great popularity; and Plutarch tells that those Athenians who were taken captive in the disastrous Sicilian expedition of 413 B.C. were offered freedom by their captors if they could recite from the works of Euripides. Of the hundred and twenty dramas ascribed to Euripides, there have come down to us complete eighteen tragedies and one satyric drama, "Cyclops," beside numerous fragments.

The works of Euripides are generally regarded as showing the beginning of the decline of Greek tragedy. The idea of Fate hitherto dominant in the plays of his predecessors, tends to be degraded by him into mere chance; the characters lose much of their ideal quality; and even gods and heroes are represented as moved by the petty motives of ordinary humanity. The chorus is often quite detached from the action; the poetry is florid; and the action is frequently tinged with sensationalism. In spite of all this, Euripides remains a great poet; and his picturesqueness and tendencies to what are now called realism and romanticism, while marking his inferiority to the chaste classicism of Sophocles, bring him more easily within the sympathetic interest of the modern reader.

HIPPOLYTUS

OF EURIPIDES

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

THE GODDESS APHRODITE THESEUS, _King of Athens and Trozên_ PHAEDRA, _daughter of Minos, King of Crete, wife to Theseus_ HIPPOLYTUS, _bastard son of Theseus and the Amazon Hippolyte_ THE NURSE OF PHAEDRA A HENCHMAN OF HIPPOLYTUS THE GODDESS ARTEMIS AN OLD HUNTSMAN A CHORUS OF HUNTSMEN ATTENDANTS ON THE THREE ROYAL PERSONS A CHORUS OF TROZENIAN WOMEN, WITH THEIR LEADER

_The scene is laid in Trozên. The play was first acted when Epameinon was Archon, Olympiad 87, year 4 (B.C. 429). Euripides was first, Iophon second, Ion third._

APHRODITE Great among men, and not unnamed am I, The Cyprian, in God's inmost halls on high. And wheresoe'er from Pontus to the far Red West men dwell, and see the glad day-star, And worship Me, the pious heart I bless, And wreck that life that lives in stubbornness. For that there is, even in a great God's mind, That hungereth for the praise of human kind.

So runs my word; and soon the very deed Shall follow. For this Prince of Theseus' seed, Hippolytus, child of that dead Amazon, And reared by saintly Pittheus in his own Strait ways, hath dared, alone of all Trozên, To hold me least of spirits and most mean, And spurns my spell and seeks no woman's kiss, But great Apollo's sister, Artemis, He holds of all most high, gives love and praise, And through the wild dark woods for ever strays, He and the Maid together, with swift hounds To slay all angry beasts from out these bounds, To more than mortal friendship consecrate!

I grudge it not. No grudge know I, nor hate; Yet, seeing he hath offended, I this day Shall smite Hippolytus. Long since my way Was opened, nor needs now much labour more.

For once from Pittheus' castle to the shore Of Athens came Hippolytus over-seas Seeking the vision of the Mysteries. And Phaedra there, his father's Queen high-born; Saw him, and as she saw, her heart was torn With great love, by the working of my will. And for his sake, long since, on Pallas' hill, Deep in the rock, that Love no more might roam, She built a shrine, and named it _Love-at-home_: And the rock held it, but its face alway Seeks Trozên o'er the seas. Then came the day When Theseus, for the blood of kinsmen shed, Spake doom of exile on himself, and fled, Phaedra beside him, even to this Trozên. And here that grievous and amazed Queen, Wounded and wondering, with ne'er a word, Wastes slowly; and her secret none hath heard Nor dreamed.

But never thus this love shall end! To Theseus' ear some whisper will I send, And all be bare! And that proud Prince, my foe, His sire shall slay with curses. Even so Endeth that boon the great Lord of the Main To Theseus gave, the Three Prayers not in vain.

And she, not in dishonour, yet shall die. I would not rate this woman's pain so high As not to pay mine haters in full fee That vengeance that shall make all well with me.

But soft, here comes he, striding from the chase, Our Prince Hippolytus!--I will go my ways.-- And hunters at his heels: and a loud throng Glorying Artemis with praise and song! Little he knows that Hell's gates opened are, And this his last look on the great Day-star! [APHRODITE _withdraws, unseen by_ HIPPOLYTUS _and a band of huntsmen, who enter from the left, singing. They pass the Statue of_ APHRODITE _without notice._]

HIPPOLYTUS Follow, O follow me, Singing on your ways Her in whose hand are we, Her whose own flock we be, The Zeus-Child, the Heavenly; To Artemis be praise!

HUNTSMAN Hail to thee, Maiden blest, Proudest and holiest: God's Daughter, great in bliss, Leto-born, Artemis! Hail to thee, Maiden, far Fairest of all that are, Yea, and most high thine home, Child of the Father's hall; Hear, O most virginal, Hear, O most fair of all, In high God's golden dome.

[_The huntsmen have gathered about the altar of_ ARTEMIS. HIPPOLYTUS _now advances from them, and approaches the Statue with a wreath in his hand._]

HIPPOLYTUS To thee this wreathed garland, from a green And virgin meadow bear I, O my Queen, Where never shepherd leads his grazing ewes Nor scythe has touched. Only the river dews Gleam, and the spring bee sings, and in the glade Hath Solitude her mystic garden made. No evil hand may cull it: only he Whose heart hath known the heart of Purity, Unlearned of man, and true whate'er befall. Take therefore from pure hands this coronal, O mistress loved, thy golden hair to twine. For, sole of living men, this grace is mine, To dwell with thee, and speak, and hear replies Of voice divine, though none may see thine eyes. Oh, keep me to the end in this same road! [_An_ OLD HUNTSMAN, _who has stood apart from the rest, here comes up to_ HIPPOLYTUS.]

HUNTSMAN My Prince--for "Master" name I none but God-- Gave I good counsel, wouldst thou welcome it?

HIPPOLYTUS Right gladly, friend; else were I poor of wit.

HUNTSMAN Knowest thou one law, that through the world has won?

HIPPOLYTUS What wouldst thou? And how runs thy law? Say on.

HUNTSMAN It hates that Pride that speaks not all men fair!

HIPPOLYTUS And rightly. Pride breeds hatred everywhere.

HUNTSMAN And good words love, and grace in all men's sight?

HIPPOLYTUS Aye, and much gain withal, for trouble slight.

HUNTSMAN How deem'st thou of the Gods? Are they the same?

HIPPOLYTUS Surely: we are but fashioned on their frame.

HUNTSMAN Why then wilt thou be proud, and worship not ...

HIPPOLYTUS Whom? If the name be speakable, speak out!

HUNTSMAN She stands here at thy gate: the Cyprian Queen!

HIPPOLYTUS I greet her from afar: my life is clean.

HUNTSMAN Clean? Nay, proud, proud; a mark for all to scan!

HIPPOLYTUS Each mind hath its own bent, for God or man.

HUNTSMAN God grant thee happiness ... and wiser thought!

HIPPOLYTUS These Spirits that reign in darkness like me not.

HUNTSMAN What the Gods ask, O Son, that man must pay!

HIPPOLYTUS (_turning from him to the others_). On, huntsmen, to the Castle! Make your way Straight to the feast room; 'tis a merry thing After the chase, a board of banqueting. And see the steeds be groomed, and in array The chariot dight. I drive them forth to-day [_He pauses, and makes a slight gesture of reverence to the Statue on the left. Then to the_ OLD HUNTSMAN.] That for thy Cyprian, friend, and nought beside! [HIPPOLYTUS _follows the huntsmen, who stream by the central door in the Castle. The_ OLD HUNTSMAN _remains_.]

HUNTSMAN (_approaching the Statue and kneeling_) O Cyprian--for a young man in his pride I will not follow!--here before thee, meek, In that one language that a slave may speak, I pray thee; Oh, if some wild heart in froth Of youth surges against thee, be not wroth For ever! Nay, be far and hear not then: Gods should be gentler and more wise than men! [_He rises and follows the others into the Castle_.]

_The Orchestra is empty for a moment, then there enter from right and left several Trosenian women young and old. Their number eventually amounts to fifteen._

CHORUS There riseth a rock-born river, Of Ocean's tribe, men say; The crags of it gleam and quiver, And pitchers dip in the spray: A woman was there with raiment white To bathe and spread in the warm sunlight, And she told a tale to me there by the river The tale of the Queen and her evil day:

How, ailing beyond allayment, Within she hath bowed her head, And with shadow of silken raiment The bright brown hair bespread. For three long days she hath lain forlorn, Her lips untainted of flesh or corn, For that secret sorrow beyond allayment That steers to the far sad shore of the dead.

_Some Women_ Is this some Spirit, O child of man? Doth Hecat hold thee perchance, or Pan? Doth she of the Mountains work her ban, Or the dread Corybantes bind thee?

_Others_ Nay, is it sin that upon thee lies, Sin of forgotten sacrifice, In thine own Dictynna's sea-wild eyes? Who in Limna here can find thee; For the Deep's dry floor is her easy way, And she moves in the salt wet whirl of the spray.

_Other Women_ Or doth the Lord of Erechtheus' race, Thy Theseus, watch for a fairer face, For secret arms in a silent place, Far from thy love or chiding?

_Others_ Or hath there landed, amid the loud Hum of Piraeus' sailor-crowd, Some Cretan venturer, weary-browed, Who bears to the Queen some tiding; Some far home-grief, that hath bowed her low, And chained her soul to a bed of woe?

_An Older Woman_ Nay--know yet not?--this burden hath alway lain On the devious being of woman; yea, burdens twain, The burden of Wild Will and the burden of Pain. Through my heart once that wind of terror sped; But I, in fear confessèd, Cried from the dark to Her in heavenly bliss, The Helper of Pain, the Bow-Maid Artemis: Whose feet I praise for ever, where they tread Far off among the blessèd!

THE LEADER But see, the Queen's grey nurse at the door, Sad-eyed and sterner, methinks, than of yore With the Queen. Doth she lead her hither To the wind and sun?--Ah, fain would I know What strange betiding hath blanched that brow And made that young life wither. [_The NURSE comes out from the central door followed by_ PHAEDRA, _who is supported by two handmaids. They make ready a couch for_ PHAEDRA _to lie upon_.]

NURSE O sick and sore are the days of men! What wouldst thou? What shall I change again Here is the Sun for thee; here is the sky; And thy weary pillows wind-swept lie, By the castle door. But the cloud of thy brow is dark, I ween; And soon thou wilt back to thy bower within: So swift to change is the path of thy feet, And near things hateful, and far things sweet; So was it before!

Oh, pain were better than tending pain! For that were single, and this is twain, With grief of heart and labour of limb. Yet all man's life is but ailing and dim, And rest upon earth comes never. But if any far-off state there be, Dearer than life to mortality; The hand of the Dark hath hold thereof, And mist is under and mist above. And so we are sick of life, and cling On earth to this nameless and shining thing. For other life is a fountain sealed, And the deeps below are unrevealed, And we drift on legends for ever! [PHAEDRA _during this has been laid on her couch; she speaks to the handmaids_.]

PHAEDRA Yes; lift me: not my head so low. There, hold my arms.--Fair arms they seem!-- My poor limbs scarce obey me now! Take off that hood that weighs my brow, And let my long hair stream.

NURSE Nay, toss not, Child, so feveredly. The sickness best will win relief By quiet rest and constancy. All men have grief.

PHAEDRA (_not noticing her_) Oh for a deep and dewy spring, With runlets cold to draw and drink! And a great meadow blossoming, Long-grassed, and poplars in a ring, To rest me by the brink!

NURSE Nay, Child! Shall strangers hear this tone So wild, and thoughts so fever-flown?

PHAEDRA Oh, take me to the Mountain! Oh, Pass the great pines and through the wood, Up where the lean hounds softly go, A-whine for wild things' blood, And madly flies the dappled roe. O God, to shout and speed them there, An arrow by my chestnut hair Drawn tight, and one keen glimmering spear-- Ah! if I could!

NURSE What wouldst thou with them--fancies all!-- Thy hunting and thy fountain brink? What wouldst thou? By the city wall Canst hear our own brook plash and fall Downhill, if thou wouldst drink.

PHAEDRA O Mistress of the Sea-lorn Mere Where horse-hoofs beat the sand and sing, O Artemis, that I were there To tame Enetian steeds and steer Swift chariots in the ring!

NURSE Nay, mountainward but now thy hands Yearned out, with craving for the chase; And now toward the unseaswept sands Thou roamest, where the coursers pace! O wild young steed, what prophet knows The power that holds thy curb, and throws Thy swift heart from its race? [_At these words PHAEDRA gradually recovers herself and pays attention._]

PHAEDRA What have I said? Woe's me! And where Gone straying from my wholesome mind? What? Did I fall in some god's snare? --Nurse, veil my head again, and blind Mine eyes.--There is a tear behind That lash.--Oh, I am sick with shame! Aye, but it hath a sting, To come to reason; yet the name Of madness is an awful thing.-- Could I but die in one swift flame Unthinking, unknowing!

NURSE I veil thy face, Child.--Would that so Mine own were veiled for evermore, So sore I love thee! ... Though the lore Of long life mocks me, and I know How love should be a lightsome thing Not rooted in the deep o' the heart; With gentle ties, to twine apart If need so call, or closer cling.-- Why do I love thee so? O fool, O fool, the heart that bleeds for twain, And builds, men tell us, walls of pain, To walk by love's unswerving rule The same for ever, stern and true! For "Thorough" is no word of peace: 'Tis "Naught-too-much" makes trouble cease. And many a wise man bows thereto. [_The_ LEADER OF THE CHORUS _here approaches the_ NURSE.]

LEADER Nurse of our Queen, thou watcher old and true, We see her great affliction, but no clue Have we to learn the sickness. Wouldst thou tell The name and sort thereof, 'twould like us well.

NURSE Small leechcraft have I, and she tells no man.

LEADER Thou know'st no cause? Nor when the unrest began?

NURSE It all comes to the same. She will not speak.

LEADER (_turning and looking at_ PHAEDRA). How she is changed and wasted! And how weak!

NURSE 'Tis the third day she hath fasted utterly.

LEADER What, is she mad? Or doth she seek to die?

NURSE I know not. But to death it sure must lead.

LEADER 'Tis strange that Theseus takes hereof no heed.

NURSE She hides her wound, and vows it is not so.

LEADER Can he not look into her face and know?

NURSE Nay, he is on a journey these last days.

LEADER Canst thou not force her, then? Or think of ways To trap the secret of the sick heart's pain?

NURSE Have I not tried all ways, and all in vain? Yet will I cease not now, and thou shalt tell If in her grief I serve my mistress well! [_She goes across to where_ PHAEDRA _lies; and presently, while speaking, kneels by her_.] Dear daughter mine, all that before was said Let both of us forget; and thou instead Be kindlier, and unlock that prisoned brow. And I, who followed then the wrong road, now Will leave it and be wiser. If thou fear Some secret sickness, there be women here To give thee comfort. [PHAEDRA _shakes her head_. No; not secret? Then Is it a sickness meet for aid of men? Speak, that a leech may tend thee. Silent still? Nay, Child, what profits silence? If 'tis ill This that I counsel, makes me see the wrong: If well, then yield to me. Nay, Child, I long For one kind word, one look! [PHAEDRA _lies motionless. The_ NURSE _rises._] Oh, woe is me! Women, we labour here all fruitlessly, All as far off as ever from her heart! She ever scorned me, and now hears no part Of all my prayers! [_Turning to_ PHAEDRA _again._] Nay, hear thou shalt, and be, If so thou will, more wild than the wild sea; But know, thou art thy little ones' betrayer! If thou die now, shall child of thine be heir To Theseus' castle? Nay, not thine, I ween, But hers! That barbèd Amazonian Queen Hath left a child to bend thy children low, A bastard royal-hearted--sayst not so?-- Hippolytus...

PHAEDRA Ah! [_She starts up, sitting, and throws the veil off_.]

NURSE That stings thee?

PHAEDRA Nurse, most sore Thou hast hurt me! In God's name, speak that name no more.

NURSE Thou seest? Thy mind is clear; but with thy mind Thou wilt not save thy children, nor be kind To thine own life.

PHAEDRA My children? Nay, most dear I love them,--Far, far other grief is here.

NURSE (_after a pause, wondering_) Thy hand is clean, O Child, from stain of blood?

PHAEDRA My hand is clean; but is my heart, O God?

NURSE Some enemy's spell hath made thy spirit dim?

PHAEDRA He hates me not that slays me, nor I him.

NURSE Theseus, the King, hath wronged thee in man's wise?

PHAEDRA Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!

NURSE O speak! What is this death-fraught mystery?

PHAEDRA Nay, leave me to my wrong. I wrong not thee.

NURSE (_suddenly throwing herself in supplication at PHAEDRA'S feet_) Not wrong me, whom thou wouldst all desolate leave?

PHAEDRA (_rising and trying to move away_) What wouldst thou? Force me? Clinging to my sleeve?

NURSE Yea, to thy knees; and weep; and let not go!

PHAEDRA Woe to thee, Woman, if thou learn it, woe!

NURSE I know no bitterer woe than losing thee.

PHAEDRA Yet the deed shall honour me.

NURSE Why hide what honours thee? 'Tis all I claim!

PHAEDRA Why, so I build up honour out of shame!

NURSE Then speak, and higher still thy fame shall stand.

PHAEDRA Go, in God's name!--Nay, leave me; loose my hand!

NURSE Never, until thou grant me what I pray.

PHAEDRA (_yielding, after a pause_) So be it. I dare not tear that hand away.

NURSE (_rising and releasing PHAEDRA_) Tell all thou wilt, Daughter. I speak no more.

PHAEDRA (_after a long pause_) Mother, poor Mother, that didst love so sore!

NURSE What mean'st thou, Child? The Wild Bull of the Tide?

PHAEDRA And thou, sad sister, Dionysus' bride!

NURSE Child! wouldst thou shame the house where thou wast born?

PHAEDRA And I the third, sinking most all-forlorn!

NURSE (_to herself_) I am all lost and feared. What will she say?

PHAEDRA From there my grief comes, not from yesterday.

NURSE I come no nearer to thy parable.

PHAEDRA Oh, would that thou could'st tell what I must tell!

NURSE I am no seer in things I wot not of.

PHAEDRA (_again hesitating_) What is it that they mean, who say men...love?

NURSE A thing most sweet, my Child, yet dolorous.

PHAEDRA Only the half, belike, hath fallen on us!

NURSE (_starting_) On thee? Love?--Oh, what say'st thou? What man's son?

PHAEDRA What man's? There was a Queen, an Amazon ...

NURSE Hippolytus, say'st thou?

PHAEDRA (_again wrapping her face in the veil_) Nay, 'twas thou, not I! [PHAEDRA _sinks back on the couch and covers her face again. The_ NURSE _starts violently from her and walks up and down._]

NURSE O God! what wilt thou say, Child? Wouldst thou try To kill me?--Oh, 'tis more than I can bear; Women. I will no more of it, this glare Of hated day, this shining of the sky. I will fling down my body, and let it lie Till life be gone! Women, God rest with you, My works are over! For the pure and true Are forced to evil, against their own heart's vow, And love it! [_She suddenly sees the Statue of_ CYPRIS, _and stands with her eyes riveted upon it._] Ah, Cyprian! No god art thou, But more than god, and greater, that hath thrust Me and my queen and all our house to dust! [_She throws herself on the ground close to the statue._]

CHORUS

_Some Women_ O Women, have ye heard? Nay, dare ye hear The desolate cry of the young Queen's misery?

_A Woman_ My Queen, I love thee dear, Yet liefer were I dead than framed like thee.

_Others_ Woe, woe to me for this thy bitter bane, Surely the food man feeds upon is pain!

_Others_ How wilt thou bear thee through this livelong day, Lost, and thine evil naked to the light? Strange things are close upon us--who shall say How strange?--save one thing that is plain to sight, The stroke of the Cyprian and the fall thereof On thee, thou child of the Isle of fearful Love!

[PHAEDRA _during this has risen from the couch and comes forward collectedly. As she speaks the_ NURSE _gradually rouses herself, and listens more calmly._]