Part 7

THESEUS. I must believe thee, having found thee oft A prophet true; then speak what must be done.

OEDIPUS. O son of Aegeus, for this state will I Unfold a treasure age cannot corrupt. Myself anon without a guiding hand Will take thee to the spot where I must end. This secret ne’er reveal to mortal man, Neither the spot nor whereabouts it lies, So shall it ever serve thee for defense Better than native shields and near allies. But those dread mysteries speech may not profane Thyself shalt gather coming there alone; Since not to any of thy subjects, nor To my own children, though I love them dearly, Can I reveal what thou must guard alone, And whisper to thy chosen heir alone, So to be handed down from heir to heir. Thus shalt thou hold this land inviolate From the dread Dragon’s brood. 7 The justest State By countless wanton neighbors may be wronged, For the gods, though they tarry, mark for doom The godless sinner in his mad career. Far from thee, son of Aegeus, be such fate! But to the spot—the god within me goads— Let us set forth no longer hesitate. Follow me, daughters, this way. Strange that I Whom you have led so long should lead you now. Oh, touch me not, but let me all alone Find out the sepulcher that destiny Appoints me in this land. Hither, this way, For this way Hermes leads, the spirit guide, And Persephassa, empress of the dead. O light, no light to me, but mine erewhile, Now the last time I feel thee palpable, For I am drawing near the final gloom Of Hades. Blessing on thee, dearest friend, On thee and on thy land and followers! Live prosperous and in your happy state Still for your welfare think on me, the dead. [Exit THESEUS followed by ANTIGONE and ISMENE]

CHORUS. (Str.) If mortal prayers are heard in hell, Hear, Goddess dread, invisible! Monarch of the regions drear, Aidoneus, hear, O hear! By a gentle, tearless doom Speed this stranger to the gloom, Let him enter without pain The all-shrouding Stygian plain. Wrongfully in life oppressed, Be he now by Justice blessed.

(Ant.) Queen infernal, and thou fell Watch-dog of the gates of hell, Who, as legends tell, dost glare, Gnarling in thy cavernous lair At all comers, let him go Scathless to the fields below. For thy master orders thus, The son of earth and Tartarus; In his den the monster keep, Giver of eternal sleep. [Enter MESSENGER]

MESSENGER. Friends, countrymen, my tidings are in sum That Oedipus is gone, but the event Was not so brief, nor can the tale be brief.

CHORUS. What, has he gone, the unhappy man?

MESSENGER. Know well That he has passed away from life to death.

CHORUS. How? By a god-sent, painless doom, poor soul?

MESSENGER. Thy question hits the marvel of the tale. How he moved hence, you saw him and must know; Without a friend to lead the way, himself Guiding us all. So having reached the abrupt Earth-rooted Threshold with its brazen stairs, He paused at one of the converging paths, Hard by the rocky basin which records The pact of Theseus and Peirithous. Betwixt that rift and the Thorician rock, The hollow pear-tree and the marble tomb, Midway he sat and loosed his beggar’s weeds; Then calling to his daughters bade them fetch Of running water, both to wash withal And make libation; so they clomb the steep; And in brief space brought what their father bade, Then laved and dressed him with observance due. But when he had his will in everything, And no desire was left unsatisfied, It thundered from the netherworld; the maids Shivered, and crouching at their father’s knees Wept, beat their breast and uttered a long wail. He, as he heard their sudden bitter cry, Folded his arms about them both and said, “My children, ye will lose your sire today, For all of me has perished, and no more Have ye to bear your long, long ministry; A heavy load, I know, and yet one word Wipes out all score of tribulations—_love_. And love from me ye had—from no man more; But now must live without me all your days.” So clinging to each other sobbed and wept Father and daughters both, but when at last Their mourning had an end and no wail rose, A moment there was silence; suddenly A voice that summoned him; with sudden dread The hair of all stood up and all were ’mazed; For the call came, now loud, now low, and oft. “Oedipus, Oedipus, why tarry we? Too long, too long thy passing is delayed.” But when he heard the summons of the god, He prayed that Theseus might be brought, and when The Prince came nearer: “O my friend,” he cried, “Pledge ye my daughters, giving thy right hand— And, daughters, give him yours—and promise me Thou never wilt forsake them, but do all That time and friendship prompt in their behoof.” And he of his nobility repressed His tears and swore to be their constant friend. This promise given, Oedipus put forth Blind hands and laid them on his children, saying, “O children, prove your true nobility And hence depart nor seek to witness sights Unlawful or to hear unlawful words. Nay, go with speed; let none but Theseus stay, Our ruler, to behold what next shall hap.” So we all heard him speak, and weeping sore We companied the maidens on their way. After brief space we looked again, and lo The man was gone, evanished from our eyes; Only the king we saw with upraised hand Shading his eyes as from some awful sight, That no man might endure to look upon. A moment later, and we saw him bend In prayer to Earth and prayer to Heaven at once. But by what doom the stranger met his end No man save Theseus knoweth. For there fell No fiery bold that reft him in that hour, Nor whirlwind from the sea, but he was taken. It was a messenger from heaven, or else Some gentle, painless cleaving of earth’s base; For without wailing or disease or pain He passed away—and end most marvelous. And if to some my tale seems foolishness I am content that such could count me fool.

CHORUS. Where are the maids and their attendant friends?

MESSENGER. They cannot be far off; the approaching sound Of lamentation tells they come this way. [Enter ANTIGONE and ISMENE]

ANTIGONE. (Str. 1) Woe, woe! on this sad day We sisters of one blasted stock must bow beneath the shock, Must weep and weep the curse that lay On him our sire, for whom In life, a life-long world of care ’Twas ours to bear, In death must face the gloom That wraps his tomb. What tongue can tell That sight ineffable?

CHORUS. What mean ye, maidens?

ANTIGONE. All is but surmise.

CHORUS. Is he then gone?

ANTIGONE. Gone as ye most might wish. Not in battle or sea storm, But reft from sight, By hands invisible borne To viewless fields of night. Ah me! on us too night has come, The night of mourning. Wither roam O’er land or sea in our distress Eating the bread of bitterness?

ISMENE. I know not. O that Death Might nip my breath, And let me share my aged father’s fate. I cannot live a life thus desolate.

CHORUS. Best of daughters, worthy pair, What heaven brings ye needs must bear, Fret no more ’gainst Heaven’s will; Fate hath dealt with you not ill.

ANTIGONE. (Ant. 1) Love can turn past pain to bliss, What seemed bitter now is sweet. Ah me! that happy toil is sweet. The guidance of those dear blind feet. Dear father, wrapt for aye in nether gloom, E’en in the tomb Never shalt thou lack of love repine, Her love and mine.

CHORUS. His fate—

ANTIGONE. Is even as he planned.

CHORUS. How so?

ANTIGONE. He died, so willed he, in a foreign land. Lapped in kind earth he sleeps his long last sleep, And o’er his grave friends weep. How great our lost these streaming eyes can tell, This sorrow naught can quell. Thou hadst thy wish ’mid strangers thus to die, But I, ah me, not by.

ISMENE. Alas, my sister, what new fate * * * * * * * * * * * * Befalls us orphans desolate?

CHORUS. His end was blessed; therefore, children, stay Your sorrow. Man is born to fate a prey.

ANTIGONE. (Str. 2) Sister, let us back again.

ISMENE. Why return?

ANTIGONE. My soul is fain—

ISMENE. Is fain?

ANTIGONE. To see the earthy bed.

ISMENE. Sayest thou?

ANTIGONE. Where our sire is laid.

ISMENE. Nay, thou can’st not, dost not see—

ANTIGONE. Sister, wherefore wroth with me?

ISMENE. Know’st not—beside—

ANTIGONE. More must I hear?

ISMENE. Tombless he died, none near.

ANTIGONE. Lead me thither; slay me there.

ISMENE. How shall I unhappy fare, Friendless, helpless, how drag on A life of misery alone?

CHORUS. (Ant. 2) Fear not, maids—

ANTIGONE. Ah, whither flee?

CHORUS. Refuge hath been found.

ANTIGONE. For me?

CHORUS. Where thou shalt be safe from harm.

ANTIGONE. I know it.

CHORUS. Why then this alarm?

ANTIGONE. How again to get us home I know not.

CHORUS. Why then this roam?

ANTIGONE. Troubles whelm us—

CHORUS. As of yore.

ANTIGONE. Worse than what was worse before.

CHORUS. Sure ye are driven on the breakers’ surge.

ANTIGONE. Alas! we are.

CHORUS. Alas! ’tis so.

ANTIGONE. Ah whither turn, O Zeus? No ray Of hope to cheer the way Whereon the fates our desperate voyage urge. [Enter THESEUS]

THESEUS. Dry your tears; when grace is shed On the quick and on the dead By dark Powers beneficent, Over-grief they would resent.

ANTIGONE. Aegeus’ child, to thee we pray.

THESEUS. What the boon, my children, say.

ANTIGONE. With our own eyes we fain would see Our father’s tomb.

THESEUS. That may not be.

ANTIGONE. What say’st thou, King?

THESEUS. My children, he Charged me straitly that no moral Should approach the sacred portal, Or greet with funeral litanies The hidden tomb wherein he lies; Saying, “If thou keep’st my hest Thou shalt hold thy realm at rest.” The God of Oaths this promise heard, And to Zeus I pledged my word.

ANTIGONE. Well, if he would have it so, We must yield. Then let us go Back to Thebes, if yet we may Heal this mortal feud and stay The self-wrought doom That drives our brothers to their tomb.

THESEUS. Go in peace; nor will I spare Ought of toil and zealous care, But on all your needs attend, Gladdening in his grave my friend.

CHORUS. Wail no more, let sorrow rest, All is ordered for the best.

FOOTNOTES

4 (return) [ The Greek text for the passages marked here and later in the text have been lost.]

5 (return) [ To avoid the blessing, still a secret, he resorts to a commonplace; literally, “For what generous man is not (in befriending others) a friend to himself?”]

6 (return) [ Creon desires to bury Oedipus on the confines of Thebes so as to avoid the pollution and yet offer due rites at his tomb. Ismene tells him of the latest oracle and interprets to him its purport, that some day the Theban invaders of Athens will be routed in a battle near the grave of Oedipus.]

7 (return) [ The Thebans sprung from the Dragon’s teeth sown by Cadmus.]

ANTIGONE

Translation by F. Storr, BA Formerly Scholar of Trinity College, Cambridge From the Loeb Library Edition Originally published by Harvard University Press, Cambridge, MA and William Heinemann Ltd, London First published in 1912

ARGUMENT

Antigone, daughter of Oedipus, the late king of Thebes, in defiance of Creon who rules in his stead, resolves to bury her brother Polyneices, slain in his attack on Thebes. She is caught in the act by Creon’s watchmen and brought before the king. She justifies her action, asserting that she was bound to obey the eternal laws of right and wrong in spite of any human ordinance. Creon, unrelenting, condemns her to be immured in a rock-hewn chamber. His son Haemon, to whom Antigone is betrothed, pleads in vain for her life and threatens to die with her. Warned by the seer Teiresias Creon repents him and hurries to release Antigone from her rocky prison. But he is too late: he finds lying side by side Antigone who had hanged herself and Haemon who also has perished by his own hand. Returning to the palace he sees within the dead body of his queen who on learning of her son’s death has stabbed herself to the heart.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

ANTIGONE and ISMENE—daughters of Oedipus and sisters of Polyneices and Eteocles. CREON, King of Thebes. HAEMON, Son of Creon, betrothed to Antigone. EURYDICE, wife of Creon. TEIRESIAS, the prophet. CHORUS, of Theban elders. A WATCHMAN A MESSENGER A SECOND MESSENGER

ANTIGONE

ANTIGONE and ISMENE before the Palace gates.

ANTIGONE. Ismene, sister of my blood and heart, See’st thou how Zeus would in our lives fulfill The weird of Oedipus, a world of woes! For what of pain, affliction, outrage, shame, Is lacking in our fortunes, thine and mine? And now this proclamation of today Made by our Captain-General to the State, What can its purport be? Didst hear and heed, Or art thou deaf when friends are banned as foes?

ISMENE. To me, Antigone, no word of friends Has come, or glad or grievous, since we twain Were reft of our two brethren in one day By double fratricide; and since i’ the night Our Argive leaguers fled, no later news Has reached me, to inspirit or deject.

ANTIGONE. I know ’twas so, and therefore summoned thee Beyond the gates to breathe it in thine ear.

ISMENE. What is it? Some dark secret stirs thy breast.

ANTIGONE. What but the thought of our two brothers dead, The one by Creon graced with funeral rites, The other disappointed? Eteocles He hath consigned to earth (as fame reports) With obsequies that use and wont ordain, So gracing him among the dead below. But Polyneices, a dishonored corse, (So by report the royal edict runs) No man may bury him or make lament— Must leave him tombless and unwept, a feast For kites to scent afar and swoop upon. Such is the edict (if report speak true) Of Creon, our most noble Creon, aimed At thee and me, aye me too; and anon He will be here to promulgate, for such As have not heard, his mandate; ’tis in sooth No passing humor, for the edict says Whoe’er transgresses shall be stoned to death. So stands it with us; now ’tis thine to show If thou art worthy of thy blood or base.

ISMENE. But how, my rash, fond sister, in such case Can I do anything to make or mar?

ANTIGONE. Say, wilt thou aid me and abet? Decide.

ISMENE. In what bold venture? What is in thy thought?

ANTIGONE. Lend me a hand to bear the corpse away.

ISMENE. What, bury him despite the interdict?

ANTIGONE. My brother, and, though thou deny him, thine No man shall say that _I_ betrayed a brother.

ISMENE. Wilt thou persist, though Creon has forbid?

ANTIGONE. What right has he to keep me from my own?

ISMENE. Bethink thee, sister, of our father’s fate, Abhorred, dishonored, self-convinced of sin, Blinded, himself his executioner. Think of his mother-wife (ill sorted names) Done by a noose herself had twined to death And last, our hapless brethren in one day, Both in a mutual destiny involved, Self-slaughtered, both the slayer and the slain. Bethink thee, sister, we are left alone; Shall we not perish wretchedest of all, If in defiance of the law we cross A monarch’s will?—weak women, think of that, Not framed by nature to contend with men. Remember this too that the stronger rules; We must obey his orders, these or worse. Therefore I plead compulsion and entreat The dead to pardon. I perforce obey The powers that be. ’Tis foolishness, I ween, To overstep in aught the golden mean.

ANTIGONE. I urge no more; nay, wert thou willing still, I would not welcome such a fellowship. Go thine own way; myself will bury him. How sweet to die in such employ, to rest,— Sister and brother linked in love’s embrace— A sinless sinner, banned awhile on earth, But by the dead commended; and with them I shall abide for ever. As for thee, Scorn, if thou wilt, the eternal laws of Heaven.

ISMENE. I scorn them not, but to defy the State Or break her ordinance I have no skill.

ANTIGONE. A specious pretext. I will go alone To lap my dearest brother in the grave.

ISMENE. My poor, fond sister, how I fear for thee!

ANTIGONE. O waste no fears on me; look to thyself.

ISMENE. At least let no man know of thine intent, But keep it close and secret, as will I.

ANTIGONE. O tell it, sister; I shall hate thee more If thou proclaim it not to all the town.

ISMENE. Thou hast a fiery soul for numbing work.

ANTIGONE. I pleasure those whom I would liefest please.

ISMENE. If thou succeed; but thou art doomed to fail.

ANTIGONE. When strength shall fail me, yes, but not before.

ISMENE. But, if the venture’s hopeless, why essay?

ANTIGONE. Sister, forbear, or I shall hate thee soon, And the dead man will hate thee too, with cause. Say I am mad and give my madness rein To wreck itself; the worst that can befall Is but to die an honorable death.

ISMENE. Have thine own way then; ’tis a mad endeavor, Yet to thy lovers thou art dear as ever. [Exeunt]

CHORUS. (Str. 1) Sunbeam, of all that ever dawn upon Our seven-gated Thebes the brightest ray, O eye of golden day, How fair thy light o’er Dirce’s fountain shone, Speeding upon their headlong homeward course, Far quicker than they came, the Argive force; Putting to flight The argent shields, the host with scutcheons white. Against our land the proud invader came To vindicate fell Polyneices’ claim. Like to an eagle swooping low, On pinions white as new fall’n snow. With clanging scream, a horsetail plume his crest, The aspiring lord of Argos onward pressed.

(Ant. 1) Hovering around our city walls he waits, His spearmen raven at our seven gates. But ere a torch our crown of towers could burn, Ere they had tasted of our blood, they turn Forced by the Dragon; in their rear The din of Ares panic-struck they hear. For Zeus who hates the braggart’s boast Beheld that gold-bespangled host; As at the goal the paean they upraise, He struck them with his forked lightning blaze.

(Str. 2) To earthy from earth rebounding, down he crashed; The fire-brand from his impious hand was dashed, As like a Bacchic reveler on he came, Outbreathing hate and flame, And tottered. Elsewhere in the field, Here, there, great Area like a war-horse wheeled; Beneath his car down thrust Our foemen bit the dust.

Seven captains at our seven gates Thundered; for each a champion waits, Each left behind his armor bright, Trophy for Zeus who turns the fight; Save two alone, that ill-starred pair One mother to one father bare, Who lance in rest, one ’gainst the other Drave, and both perished, brother slain by brother.

(Ant. 2) Now Victory to Thebes returns again And smiles upon her chariot-circled plain. Now let feast and festal should Memories of war blot out. Let us to the temples throng, Dance and sing the live night long. God of Thebes, lead thou the round. Bacchus, shaker of the ground! Let us end our revels here; Lo! Creon our new lord draws near, Crowned by this strange chance, our king. What, I marvel, pondering? Why this summons? Wherefore call Us, his elders, one and all, Bidding us with him debate, On some grave concern of State? [Enter CREON]

CREON. Elders, the gods have righted one again Our storm-tossed ship of state, now safe in port. But you by special summons I convened As my most trusted councilors; first, because I knew you loyal to Laius of old; Again, when Oedipus restored our State, Both while he ruled and when his rule was o’er, Ye still were constant to the royal line. Now that his two sons perished in one day, Brother by brother murderously slain, By right of kinship to the Princes dead, I claim and hold the throne and sovereignty. Yet ’tis no easy matter to discern The temper of a man, his mind and will, Till he be proved by exercise of power; And in my case, if one who reigns supreme Swerve from the highest policy, tongue-tied By fear of consequence, that man I hold, And ever held, the basest of the base. And I contemn the man who sets his friend Before his country. For myself, I call To witness Zeus, whose eyes are everywhere, If I perceive some mischievous design To sap the State, I will not hold my tongue; Nor would I reckon as my private friend A public foe, well knowing that the State Is the good ship that holds our fortunes all: Farewell to friendship, if she suffers wreck. Such is the policy by which I seek To serve the Commons and conformably I have proclaimed an edict as concerns The sons of Oedipus; Eteocles Who in his country’s battle fought and fell, The foremost champion—duly bury him With all observances and ceremonies That are the guerdon of the heroic dead. But for the miscreant exile who returned Minded in flames and ashes to blot out His father’s city and his father’s gods, And glut his vengeance with his kinsmen’s blood, Or drag them captive at his chariot wheels— For Polyneices ’tis ordained that none Shall give him burial or make mourn for him, But leave his corpse unburied, to be meat For dogs and carrion crows, a ghastly sight. So am I purposed; never by my will Shall miscreants take precedence of true men, But all good patriots, alive or dead, Shall be by me preferred and honored.

CHORUS. Son of Menoeceus, thus thou will’st to deal With him who loathed and him who loved our State. Thy word is law; thou canst dispose of us The living, as thou will’st, as of the dead.

CREON. See then ye execute what I ordain.

CHORUS. On younger shoulders lay this grievous charge.

CREON. Fear not, I’ve posted guards to watch the corpse.

CHORUS. What further duty would’st thou lay on us?

CREON. Not to connive at disobedience.

CHORUS. No man is mad enough to court his death.

CREON. The penalty _is_ death: yet hope of gain Hath lured men to their ruin oftentimes. [Enter GUARD]

GUARD. My lord, I will not make pretense to pant And puff as some light-footed messenger. In sooth my soul beneath its pack of thought Made many a halt and turned and turned again; For conscience plied her spur and curb by turns. “Why hurry headlong to thy fate, poor fool?” She whispered. Then again, “If Creon learn This from another, thou wilt rue it worse.” Thus leisurely I hastened on my road; Much thought extends a furlong to a league. But in the end the forward voice prevailed, To face thee. I will speak though I say nothing. For plucking courage from despair methought, ‘Let the worst hap, thou canst but meet thy fate.’

CREON. What is thy news? Why this despondency?

GUARD. Let me premise a word about myself? I neither did the deed nor saw it done, Nor were it just that I should come to harm.

CREON. Thou art good at parry, and canst fence about Some matter of grave import, as is plain.

GUARD. The bearer of dread tidings needs must quake.

CREON. Then, sirrah, shoot thy bolt and get thee gone.

GUARD. Well, it must out; the corpse is buried; someone E’en now besprinkled it with thirsty dust, Performed the proper ritual—and was gone.

CREON. What say’st thou? Who hath dared to do this thing?