Chapter 6

Speak how? Repeat thy words that I may know.

TIRESIAS.

Didst thou not understand or tempt'st thou me?

OEDIPUS.

Fully I did not. Say it once again.

TIRESIAS.

I say the murderer whom thou seek'st is thou.

OEDIPUS.

Unpunished twice thy slanders shall not go.

TIRESIAS.

Shall I say more, further to fire thy wrath?

OEDIPUS.

All that thou wilt; 'twill be of none effect.

TIRESIAS.

I say that thou dost with thy next of kin Foully consort, not knowing where thou art.

OEDIPUS.

And think'st thou still unscathed to say these things?

TIRESIAS.

I do, if there is any strength in truth.

OEDIPUS.

In truth is strength, but that strength is not thine; Thou in eyes, ears, and mind alike art blind.

TIRESIAS.

And thou art wretched, casting in my teeth What all men presently will cast in thine.

OEDIPUS.

Thy lot is utter darkness; neither I Nor any one who sees, can fear thy wrath.

TIRESIAS.

Not mine is chastisement; Apollo's might Sufficient is, and will bring all to pass.

OEDIPUS.

Is this contrivance Creon's or thine own?

TIRESIAS.

Thyself, not Creon, is thy enemy.

OEDIPUS.

O wealth, O sovereignty, O art of arts That givest victory in the race of life, How are ye still by envious malice dogged! This place of power, which now I hold, by me Unsought, was by the city's will bestowed. Yet the thrice-loyal Creon, my fast friend, Seeks now to oust me by foul practices, Using for tool this knavish soothsayer, This lying mountebank, whose greedy palm Has eyes, while in his science he is blind. Show me the proofs of thy prophetic gift. Why, when the riddling Sphinx was here, didst thou Fail by thy skill to save the commonwealth? The riddle was not such as all can read, But gave thy art fair opportunity, Yet neither inspiration served thee then, Nor omens, but I, skilless Oedipus, Out of my ignorance confounded her, By my own wit, unhelped by auguries; I, whom thou now conspirest to depose, Hoping that thou wilt stand by Creon's throne. These pious efforts, trust me, will be rued By thee and him that sets thee on; thy years Are thy defence from instant chastisement.

CHORUS.

To us, Lord Oedipus, alike thy word And the seer's seem the utterance of your wrath. Wrath here is out of place, what we would seek Is a right reading of the oracle.

TIRESIAS

High is thy throne, yet must thou stoop so low As to endure free speech; that power is mine. I to my god am servant, not to thee, And therefore, ask not Creon's patronage. I tell thee who with blindness tauntest me, Sight though thou hast thou seest not what thou art, Nor where thou hast been dwelling, nor with whom. Know'st thou thy birth? No, nor that thou art loathed By thine own kin, the living and the dead. One day thy sire's and mother's awful curse, With double scourge, will whip thee from this land. Dark then shall be those eyes which now are light, And with thy cries what place shall not resound, What glen of wide Cithaeron shall not ring, As soon as thou dost learn into what port Of marriage swelling sails have wafted thee? Much is in store beside to bring thee down Unto thy children's level and thy own. Then trample upon Creon and my gift Of prophecy. Of all mankind is none Whom ruin more complete awaits than thee.

OEDIPUS.

Who can endure this caitiff's insolence? Go to perdition on the instant; pack, And of thy presence let this house be rid.

TIRESIAS.

I had not come except at thy command.

OEDIPUS.

I knew not then what folly thou would'st talk, Else should I scarce have called thee to my house.

TIRESIAS.

Such it appears in thy conceit, am I, A fool; yet to thy parents I seemed wise.

OEDIPUS.

My parents, hold there! Tell me who were they.

TIRESIAS.

This day shall bring thee parents and despair.

OEDIPUS.

Riddles again; still utterances dark.

TIRESIAS.

In guessing riddles art thou not supreme?

OEDIPUS.

Welcome the taunt which to my greatness points.

TIRESIAS.

And yet that day of greatness ruined thee.

OEDIPUS.

I reck not if it saved the commonwealth.

TIRESIAS.

I will be gone. Boy, lead me to my home.

OEDIPUS.

Yea, let him lead thee; thy intrusion here Troubles us; thy departure were relief.

TIRESIAS.

I go, but first will my deliverance make Maugre thy frown, which can do me no harm. I tell thee that the man whom thou dost seek With proclamations and with threat'nings dire, The man who murdered Laius, is here; In name a foreigner, a native born In fact, as will to his small joy appear. For he who now has sight will go forth blind, He who is rich will go forth penniless, Groping his way to dwell in a strange land; Brother of his own offspring he has been, As all the world shall know, husband of her That brought him forth, with incest stained, and stained With parricide. Get thee into thy house, There think upon my words, and if I lie Say I have lost the gift of prophecy.

* * * * *

_DISCOVERY_.

A messenger from Corinth announces to Oedipus the death of his reputed father, Polybus, king of Corinth, and incidentally reveals to him in part the history of his birth. Jocasta, the queen of Oedipus and his real mother, is on the scene when the messenger arrives; upon her the fatal secret dawns at once.

LINES 924-1085.

MESSENGER.

Strangers, I pray ye tell me if ye can Where is the palace of King Oedipus; Or better, where is Oedipus himself.

CHORUS.

This is the palace, in it is the king, And there the mother of his children stands.

MESSENGER.

Blessed may she be, be all around her blessed, If she indeed his honoured consort is.

JOCASTA.

Blessed be thou too, O stranger; such return Thy courtesy demands; but let me know Wherefore thou comest, what thou hast to tell.

MESSENGER.

Good news to thee, lady, and to thy lord.

JOCASTA.

What is the news, whence is thy embassage?

MESSENGER.

From Corinth, and the tidings on my lips May please, must please, and yet perchance may pain.

JOCASTA.

What can it be that has this double power?

MESSENGER.

The denizens of yonder Isthmian land Will make thy lord their king, as rumour goes.

JOCASTA.

What? Is old Polybus their king no more?

MESSENGER.

His lease of power has ended in his grave.

JOCASTA.

What say'st thou, that King Polybus is dead?

MESSENGER.

If I speak false let death be my reward.

JOCASTA.

Fly, fly, my handmaid, bear unto your lord This news without delay. O oracles, Where are ye? Oedipus in exile lives Lest he should slay this prince, and lo, this prince, Untouched by him, in course of nature dies.

OEDIPUS (_entering_).

Jocasta, dearest partner of my life, Why from the palace hast thou summoned me?

JOCASTA.

Hear this man's tidings, and by them be taught To what have come those reverend oracles.

OEDIPUS.

Who is the man? What is the news he brings?

JOCASTA.

He comes from Corinth, and the news he brings Is that thy father, Polybus, is dead.

OEDIPUS.

What say'st thou, stranger? Tell it me thyself.

MESSENGER.

If it is this thou first wouldst surely know, Then surely know that Polybus is gone.

OEDIPUS.

Died he of sickness or through treachery?

MESSENGER.

A touch will lay the aged form to sleep.

OEDIPUS.

He died, poor king, by sickness it would seem.

MESSENGER.

By sickness added to his length of years.

OEDIPUS.

Fie on it, wife! why should we ever waste One thought on that prophetic Pythian shrine, Or on the notes of birds whose boding cry Foretold that I should be a parricide? Beneath the ground my father lies, and I Am guiltless of his blood, unless his heart Broke at my loss, and thus through me he died. These prophecies that trouble us are naught, Are buried in the grave of Polybus.

JOCASTA.

Said I not from the first it would be so?

OEDIPUS.

Thou didst, but I was led astray by fear.

JOCASTA.

Henceforth dismiss these bugbears from thy soul.

OEDIPUS.

The incest--have I not still that to dread?

JOCASTA.

Why should man fear whose life is but the sport Of chance, to whom the future is all dark? 'Tis best to live at hazard as one may. For that predicted incest, dread it not, For many a man has in a dream ere this Lain with his mother. He who takes no thought Of such hobgoblins, lives the easiest life.

OEDIPUS.

All thou hast said would have my full assent Were not my mother still alive; but now, Though thou say'st well, I cannot choose but fear.

JOCASTA.

A light of hope shines from your father's grave.

OEDIPUS.

Yes, but my mother lives, and fear with her.

MESSENGER.

What, lady, is the cause of your alarm?

OEDIPUS.

'Tis Merope, the Queen of Polybus.

MESSENGER.

And what is there in her to breed your fears?

OEDIPUS.

A dreadful ordinance of destiny.

MESSENGER.

Is it a mystery? May it be told?

OEDIPUS.

It may be told. The god before my birth Foreshowed that with my mother I should lie, And shed with my own hands my father's blood. For which cause I have long my dwelling made Far off from Corinth. Happily, 'tis true, Yet to behold a parent's face is sweet.

MESSENGER.

Was this the fear that drove thee from that land?

OEDIPUS.

This, and the dreadful thought of parricide.

MESSENGER.

Why do I not at once, as here I am Wishing thy good, relieve thee of that fear?

OEDIPUS.

Thou wouldst not fail to reap my gratitude.

MESSENGER.

'Twas to that end I came, that to thy home When thou hadst come I might the gainer be.

OEDIPUS.

Home, while my mother lives, I will not go.

MESSENGER.

My son, 'tis plain thou know'st not what thou dost.

OEDIPUS.

How? By the gods, old man, explain to me!

MESSENGER.

If thou on her account dost shun thy home.

OEDIPUS.

I fear the god's prediction may prove true.

MESSENGER.

Touching the stain of incest, wouldst thou say?

OEDIPUS.

'Tis this, old man, I dread unceasingly.

MESSENGER.

Knowest thou not that thy alarms are vain?

OEDIPUS.

How vain, if of these parents I was born?

MESSENGER.

Polybus was no relative of thine.

OEDIPUS.

What say'st thou? Was not Polybus my sire?

MESSENGER.

As much thy sire as I am, and no more.

OEDIPUS.

Can father and not father be the same?

MESSENGER.

Neither did I beget thee nor did he.

OEDIPUS.

Then for what reason did he call me son?

MESSENGER.

Thou wast a gift to him, and from this hand.

OEDIPUS.

And could he take a foundling to his heart?

MESSENGER.

It was the yearning of a childless man.

OEDIPUS.

Was I thine own, or was I bought by thee?

MESSENGER.

I found thee in Cithaeron's bosky glade.

OEDIPUS.

What was it brought thee to this neighbourhood?

MESSENGER.

I kept the flocks that fed upon these hills.

OEDIPUS. Wast thou a shepherd wandering for hire?

MESSENGER.

Poor as I was, O King, I saved thy life.

OEDIPUS.

In what so evil plight then was I found?

MESSENGER.

Thy insteps to that question can reply.

OEDIPUS.

Alack! what evil memory is this?

MESSENGER.

Thy feet were pierced through when I rescued thee.

OEDIPUS.

A hapless babe, foul swaddling clothes had I.

MESSENGER.

Thy name is thy misfortune's monument.

OEDIPUS.

Was it my mother's or my father's act?

MESSENGER.

I know not; he who gave me thee may tell.

OEDIPUS.

Was I received, then, and not found by thee?

MESSENGER.

Another shepherd put thee in my hands.

OEDIPUS.

Who was he? Canst thou point him out to me?

MESSENGER.

A serving-man of Laius he was called.

OEDIPUS.

That Laius who was ruler of this land?

MESSENGER.

The same; the man I mean his herdsman was.

OEDIPUS.

Is he alive? can he be seen by me?

MESSENGER.

You that this land inhabit best can tell.

OEDIPUS. Does any one of you who stand around The herdsman know of whom this stranger speaks? Either afield or here has he been seen? Speak out! 'tis time that all should be revealed.

CHORUS.

I ween it is no other than the hind Of whom thou wast in quest some time ago; But Queen Jocasta could most likely tell.

OEDIPUS.

Wife, dost thou know the man for whom erewhile We sent? Is it of him that this man speaks?

JOCASTA.

Why ask? what matters it of whom he spoke? Let not such follies dwell upon thy mind.

OEDIPUS.

Think not to hinder me, with such a clue, From searching out the secret of my birth.

JOCASTA.

For Heaven's sake, for the sake of thy own life, Desist! That I am stricken is enough.

OEDIPUS.

Fear not; though I be proved through three descents Three times a slave, thy birth will take no stain.

JOCASTA.

Hear me, I do implore thee! Search no more.

OEDIPUS.

I will not stop till all has been revealed!

JOCASTA.

She that entreats thee has thy good at heart.

OEDIPUS.

Good it may be, yet does it please me ill.

JOCASTA.

Unhappy man! what thou art, never know.

OEDIPUS.

Go, some one; fetch the herdsman with all speed, And let this lady vaunt her pedigree.

JOCASTA.

Alack! alack! Wretch, by no other name Can I now call thee or shall call thee more! (JOCASTA _rushes off the scene_.)

CHORUS.

O King, why has the lady rushed away In this wild burst of grief? I sorely fear Her silence prefaces a storm of woe.

OEDIPUS.

Let her storm on! resolved am I to find The stem that bore me, lowly though it be. She, very like, puffed with a woman's pride, May feel ashamed of my ignoble birth. For me, I do esteem me Fortune's child, Nor blush to hold me of her favour born. She is my mother; and my father, Time, Whose months have on to greatness borne his child. With such a parentage I fear no change That should forbid me to search out my birth.

* * * * *

_THE CATASTROPHE_.

Jocasta, in despair, hangs herself. Oedipus puts out his own eyes. The scene is described by a second messenger, who has witnessed it.

LINES 1223-1296.

MESSENGER.

O reverend priests and elders of this land, What are ye doomed to hear? what to behold? What sorrow will be yours if loyally Ye love the royal house of Labdacus? Ister or Phasis were too scant a stream, To wash the bloodstains of this roof away, Such horrors does it hide, and presently Will show beneath the sun; horrors self-caused, And self-caused woes are of all woes the worst.

CHORUS.

That which we knew already topped the height Of misery. What hast thou more to tell?

MESSENGER.

What fewest words serve to impart is this, Jocasta the illustrious is no more.

CHORUS.

Alas, poor Queen! How was it that she died?

MESSENGER.

By her own hand. That which is worst of all, The sight of what was done, your eyes are spared; But to your ears, so far as memory serves, I will recount her most disastrous end. When, in a storm of passion, hence she passed To yonder house, straight to her marriage-bed, Tearing her hair with both her hands, she flew. She slammed the door behind her; then she cries To Laius, that had long been in his grave, Calling to mind the seed that they had raised To murder its begetter, while his mate, Was left to her own child's incestuous arms. She cursed the bed which to a husband bore A husband and gave children to a child. Thereon she slew herself, I wot not how, For, with loud outcries Oedipus rushed in, And on his movements all our eyes were turned, So that we could not mark Jocasta's end. He, raving, shouted to us for a sword, And asked where was his wife that was no wife, But his own mother and his children's, too. Then, in his frenzy, some mysterious power, For it was none of us, showed him the way. With a wild yell, as though one led him on, He charged the doorway, from their sockets tore The bolts, and headlong dashed into the room. There we beheld Jocasta hanging dead, Her neck entangled in the fatal noose. This the King seeing, gave a fearful yell, And loosed the rope; the corpse fell to the ground. What then ensued was fearful to behold: The golden buckles wherewith she was dight He from her garment plucked, and, lifting them On high, he smote the pupils of his eyes, Crying aloud that they should look no more Upon his suffering or his crimes, but dark Henceforth betray their duty seeing those Whom they ought not, not seeing those they ought. Chanting this strain, once and again he smote, With hand uplift, his eyeballs, till the blood Ran from his wounded eyes down to his chin, Not in slow-oozing drops of clotted gore, But in a pelting shower of crimson hue. Such is the wreck, not of a single life, But of a husband's and a wife's in one. The grandeur of this house in happier hours Was grandeur worthy of the name. To-day Sorrow and desolation, death and shame, All evils for which man has names are here.

CHORUS.

Rests now the victim from this agony?

MESSENGER.

He calls to us to open wide the door And let all Thebes behold the parricide. His mother's--names too horrible he used, Vowing he'll doom himself to banishment, Nor live beneath the curse himself called down. But some support and guidance he will need, For he is stricken past man's strength to bear. Thyself will see it, for behold, the gates Open and will a spectacle disclose That might the bitterest foe to pity move!

* * * * *

THE PARTING.

Oedipus bewails his calamities. A scene follows between him and Creon, his wife's brother, whom he had accused of treasonably plotting against him in concert with Tiresias.

LINES 1369-1514.

OEDIPUS.

That what is done is not done for the best, Forbear to preach; thy counsel is in vain. Could I have looked upon my father's face, Meeting him yonder in the underworld, Or on my hapless mother's, when to both I had done wrongs worse than the worst of deaths? Perchance you'll say to see my progeny Were sweet! when I remembered whence they sprung. Never, believe me, to their father's eyes; Nor to see city, tower, or temple more, From which, of all men most unfortunate, When I had lived the noblest life in Thebes, I did myself cut off, adjuring all To drive the sinner out by heaven declared Accursed and of the blood of Laius. When I had thus proclaimed my infamy, Could I meet, eye to eye, those citizens? It might not be. Nay, were there any means Of cutting off the source of hearing, too, I would have closed all avenues of sense, And made this wretched frame both blind and deaf. The mind has peace that dwells apart from ills. Why, O Cithaeron, didst thou cherish me, Not end my life at once, that so my kind Had never learned the secret of my birth? O Polybus, and Corinth, and that home By me paternal deemed, how foul beneath Was that which ye brought up so outward fair! I stand a villain, and of villains born. O meeting of three ways, and lonely glen, And copse, and narrow pass at the cross-roads, That from my father's veins drank, by my hand, The blood which filled my own, remember ye, What ye beheld me do, and what I did Thereafter in this land? Marriage ill-starred, Thou gavest me birth, and then of me gave birth To a fresh offspring, and before the sun Showed fathers, brothers, children, parricides, Brides, wives, and mothers in unnatural train, With all things most abhorred among mankind. But what is foul to do is foul to hear, Therefore, at once bury me out of sight; Put me to death, cast me into the sea, That never eye of man may see me more. Come, lay your hands upon my wretched frame, Do as I pray ye, fearing naught, my load Of woe no mortal can support but I. (_Enter_ CREON.)

CHORUS.

At the right time thy wish to execute And give thee counsel, Creon comes, now left In place of thee sole guardian of our State.

OEDIPUS.

Alas! To him what can I find to say, What plea of justice, since my conscience cries That he has met foul treatment at my hands?

CREON.

I came not, Oedipus, to mock thy fall, Nor to upbraid thee with unkindness past. But ye, that stand around, if human hearts Ye do not reverence, reverence yonder sun Whose fire feeds all things, and expose no more Unveiled to view this horror, which nor earth Nor heaven's sweet rains nor sunlight can endure. Bear him within; let there be no delay. The sorrows of a household, piety Reserves for kindred eyes and ears alone.

OEDIPUS.

Since thou my expectation hast belied, Proving thyself as good as I am bad, Grant what I ask, for thy behoof I speak.

CREON.

What is this thing that thou wouldst have me do?

OEDIPUS.

Cast me, and instantly, out of this land, Beyond the pale of human intercourse.

CREON.

Already had I done this, but I first Desired to ask the counsel of the god.

OEDIPUS.

The god had fully made his counsel known, Which was to slay the impious parricide.

CREON.

So did we hold, yet in our present case Better we deemed it to be circumspect.

OEDIPUS.

Wilt thou enquire about a wretch like me?

CREON.

Thyself by this hast learned to trust the gods.

OEDIPUS.

I do conjure thee, and enjoin on thee, Her that within there lies, as seems thee fit, Lay in the ground. To thee that care belongs. But me, let never this my fatherland Be so dishonoured as to hold alive. Upon the mountains let my dwelling be, Upon my own Cithaeron, which my sire And mother chose as my appointed tomb, And so let those who sought it take my life. And yet past doubt it is that I was proof 'Gainst death in all its forms; if I were saved, It must have been for some fell destiny. But be my own lot what it may, my care Is for my children, Creon. For the boys I'd have thee take no thought; as they are men, Where'er they be they'll find a livelihood. But for my girls now lorn and desolate, My girls, apart from whom was never set Their father's table, who still had their share Of everything on which his hand was laid, I crave thy care. And first let me embrace My darlings and unite my tears to theirs. Pray, good my lord, Consent, kind heart. To hold them in my arms Would be to feel them mine as when I saw-- What shall I say?

(ANTIGONE _and_ ISMENE, OEDIPUS' _daughters, are brought upon the scene_.)

Is it my darlings' weeping that I hear? Do my ears tell me true? Has Creon sent My best beloved in mercy to their sire? Say I aright?

CREON.

Thou say'st aright. 'Tis I that, knowing well Thy heart's desire, have granted thee this boon.

OEDIPUS.

Fortune befriend thee for their presence here, Heaven guard thee better than it guarded me. Daughters, where are ye? Come unto these arms, These arms that issued from one womb with you, Which on the father that begot you brought This darkness for the light he had before. Blindly, my children, and unwittingly, Offspring I got in an incestuous bed. See you I cannot, but I weep for you, When I bethink me of the bitter life That ye must live, marks for the scorn of men. To what assembly, to what festival, Will ye e'er go and not be driven home In tears, excluded from the spectacle? And when your marriageable hour has come, Where will be found the man so venturesome To take upon him the reproach that falls Upon my parents and from them on you? What stain is lacking when your father slew His father, her that bore him took to wife 'Gainst nature's law, and had you born to him From the same womb from which himself was born? In face of such reproaches who will wed? No one will dare. Daughters, to waste away Lonely and childless is your certain doom. Son of Menoeceus, thou alone art left As father to these children, in one day Bereft of both their parents; let them not Go forth to roam famished and desolate, Nor let them be confounded with my crimes. Have pity on them, seeing them so young, Deprived of all saving thy charity. Reach forth thy hand in token of assent. Children, were ye of age to understand, I had much counsel giv'n ye; but now pray That you may dwell where it is best to dwell, And yours may be a happier lot than mine.

OEDIPUS AT COLONUS.

After the day of horrors the blind Oedipus is cast forth from Thebes, and becomes a wanderer over the face of the earth, guided and tended by his faithful daughter, Antigone. He comes at last to Colonus, a rural district near Athens, and one of the holy places of Attica. Here he is destined to end his life, to be buried, and by the presence of his remains to confer a blessing on the country which has given him a last resting-place and a tomb. The dark cloud of involuntary guilt, which has hitherto overshadowed him, lifts at the end, and is succeeded by a calm evening light.