Six Tragedies
Page 28
to carry my body back. I find myself moving, unwillingly.
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tantalus junior* What is this? My father hesitates,
he looks around, unsure of himself, uncertain.
thyestes My heart, why all this pondering? Why do you
twist around
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thyestes
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such an obvious course of action? When everything is in doubt —
the kingdom, and your brother — why would you fear more
suffering?
Evil is conquered and tamed now: why run from misfortune?
Your pain has been well invested. Unhappiness now feels good.
Turn back and tear yourself away, while you still can.
tantalus j. Father, why are you driven to turn back from
your home
as soon as you glimpse it? Why wrap your garments close
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to avoid such marvellous benefits? Your brother is no longer
angry;
he returns and restores to you part of the kingdom.
He sets the bones of the broken house, and gives you back
yourself.
thyestes Even I do not know quite why I am frightened.
I see nothing to fear, but I am still afraid.
I want to go, but my knees feel wobbly and weak,
I get carried somewhere different from where I meant.
Even if sails and oars spur on a ship,
a current may confront them and carry the ship away.
tantalus j. Overcome the obstacles that clutter up your mind, 440
and look at all the prizes you can get if you turn back.
Father, you can be king.
thyestes
I can, since I can die.*
tantalus j. Absolute power is —
thyestes
Nothing, if you have no desires.
tantalus j. Your children will inherit.
thyestes
The kingdom cannot hold
two.
tantalus j. Can someone choose unhappiness when happiness
is possible?
thyestes Believe me, it is only language misapplied
that makes us want to be ‘great’, and fear to ‘suffer’.
Lofty position brought me constant fear; I was afraid
even of my own sword. Ah, what a wonderful thing
to get in no one’s way, to have a carefree picnic
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relaxing on the ground! Crime does not enter hovels:
those who live in tiny homes can drain their cups in safety.*
Poison is drunk from gold. I know of what I speak.
* * *
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thyestes
It makes good sense to choose bad fortune over good.
The little low-lying town does not tremble at the house
that stands up high above it on the mountain peak,
nor does the ivory shine on the lofty ceilings;
no sentry guards my bedroom while I sleep.
I need no fleet to catch my fish, I do not need
to drive the sea away with piles of rocks,*
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nor glut my greedy belly with imported goods.
No distant field in Parthia or Geta need be ploughed
to feed me; I need no worship with incense or altars,
replacing Jupiter with myself. No treetops sway
up high upon my roof; no steaming baths that take
many hands to heat. My days are not passed in sleep,
I do not stay awake to drink all night.
Nobody fears me; I have no need of weapons to keep
my house safe:
deep peace comes to those in modest circumstances.
The ability to do without a kingdom is a kingdom.
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tantalus j. If god gives power you should not turn it down,
nor try to get it. Your brother asks you to rule.
thyestes He asks? There must be trickery of some kind.
tantalus j. Family loyalty usually comes back again,
the love we ought to feel will heal its long-lost strength.
thyestes. Could my brother love me? Before that happens,
the sea will rise to drench the stars, the raging waves
of the stormy Sicilian strait will stand stock still,
ripe corn will grow on the Ionian waters, and black night
will light the earth. A loyal pact will sooner
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join fire to water, death to life, or wind to sea.
tantalus j. But why are you afraid? What do you suspect?
thyestes Everything. What limit should I put to my fear?
His power is as great as his hatred.
tantalus j.
What power does he have
against you?
thyestes I fear nothing for myself now; but you, sons,
make me fear Atreus.
tantalus j.
But you are on guard; why fear?
thyestes When trouble comes it is too late to be careful.—
Let it go. But I declare to you, my son, just this one thing:
* * *
thyestes
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I follow you, it was not my idea.
tantalus j. God
will
smile on good thinking. Go, no hesitation.
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atreus The beast is tangled in the nets I laid.
I see his offspring with him, all that hateful family
joined together. Now my hatred lives
safely; at last Thyestes is in my hands,
he comes to me, he comes, and all of him.
I can hardly control my feelings, my vengeance strains
at the leash:
just like an Umbrian hound* held on a long rope,
as he tracks his prey with his keen nose, his face
close to the ground; while he sniffs the lingering scent of the boar
from a distance, he runs quietly, and listens,
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but when the prey gets nearer, then he strains
with his whole neck, and shouts with all his lungs:
‘Hurry, Master!’ and he tears himself from the collar’s grip.
While my anger hopes for blood it cannot hide:
but I must hide it. Look how his hair is matted
with dirt and long enough to cover his sad face.
Look at his horrid beard. My loyalty must be perfect:
How nice to see my brother!* Come to my arms!
I missed you. Whatever quarrels we had are over now.
From this day forward let us pay respect for family;
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let us say no to hatred! No more being enemies!
thyestes If you were not like this, I could have refuted
all charges.
But Atreus, I confess. I committed all the crimes
you thought I did. My case looks black in the light
of your brotherly love today. A man who could hurt
so good a brother seems a total scoundrel.
It is time for tears. For the first time you see me a suppliant;
never before have I begged, but now I kneel before you.
Let all our anger be set aside, all rage
be wiped clean from our hearts. Take these sweet children
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as pledges of my good faith.
atreus
Stop hanging onto my knees!
Stand up and come into my arms instead! And you,
protectors of our old age, all you boys,
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thyestes
come and embrace me! — Take off these dirty clothes;
it hurts me to see you like this. Dress up in garments
as rich as my own. Be ready to take your share
of your brother’s kingdom. This is my greatest glory:
returning my
father’s crown to my brother safe and sound.
Having a kingdom is only luck; to give it away is virtue.
thyestes Brother, may the gods reward you fairly,
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with blessings to match such kindness. But the royal crown
would not suit my rough appearance, and my hands
are too tainted to take the sceptre. I would prefer
to be lost in the midst of the crowd.
atreus
This kingdom allows
two rulers.
thyestes I see all that is yours as mine, dear brother.
atreus When Fortune pours out gifts, who would refuse?
thyestes The man who knows how fast they flow away.
atreus Do you forbid your brother to get glory?
thyestes Your glory is achieved, mine is to come;
my mind is set, I will reject the kingdom.
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atreus I will leave my share unless you take yours.
thyeste I will accept it. I will bear the name of kingship;
but you will have the law, the army and myself.
atreus Accept and bear the bindings on your noble head;
I will sacrifice the designated offerings* to the gods.
chorus Would anyone believe this? Fierce Atreus,
so wild and violent, so lacking self-control,
stopped dead, stunned, at his brother’s face.
There is no greater power than true devotion;*
strangers’ quarrels may endure long years,
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but true love always holds those it has held.
When major grievances stir anger up,
to rupture friendship and sound the sign for war,
when light-armed troops are clattering their reins,
and shining swords swing out from all directions,
wielded by Mars who longs for more fresh blood,
raging as he swipes again and again —
loving duty overcomes the sword
and joins the fighters’ hands in peace, to their chagrin.
What god has made this sudden truce, after
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* * *
thyestes
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so great a conflict? Just now throughout Mycenae
rang out the dreadful noise of civil war.
The mothers, faces pale, clutched hold of their babies,
the wives were fearful for their armoured husbands;
their swords unwillingly obeyed their hands,
rusty and ruined from the time of peace.
One struggles to restore the falling walls,
another to rebuild the shaken turrets,
another locks the gates with iron bolts,
and terrified, up on the battlements,
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the guardsman keeps awake the whole long, anxious night.
For fear of war is even worse than war.
But now the threats of cruel swords subside;
now the deep rumble of the trumpets sounds no more;
now the shrill bugle’s screech no longer rings;
deep peace has been restored to the happy town.
So, when the waves are swelling from the deep,
when the north wind whips up the Sicilian sea,
the monster Scylla roars as her caves are battered,
and sailors in the harbour fear the sea,
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vomited out by ravenous Charybdis.*
The savage Cyclopes, who live on top
of molten Etna, fear their father’s* work:
in case the waters poured on top put out
the fire that sizzles in the ever-burning furnace.
Ithaca trembles and Laertes fears
his own poor kingdom will be under water.
But if the winds grow weak and lose their strength,
the sea subsides more gently on its bed,
the waters which the fleet had feared to cross —
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even the splendid ships with sails unfurled —
lie calm and open to the playful skiff.
You can pause and count the swimming fish
where recently beneath the giant storm
the shaken Cyclades* were trembling at the sea.
No situation lasts. Pleasure and pain
give way in turn; but pleasure is more brief.
A fleeting hour exchanges high and low.
The man who can give crowns to other men,
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thyestes
before whom people kneel on trembling knees,
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whose nod can make the sun-dark Indians,
the Medes, and the Dahae, whose horsemen fight the Parthians,
all at an instant lay aside their wars —
that man is worried as he wields his sceptre,
fearfully trying to tell the future, the chances
which whirl the world around, and fickle time.
You to whom the lord of sea and land
has given the great power of life and death,
set aside your proud and puffed-up face.
Whatever your subordinates fear from you,
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your master may in turn inflict upon you:
for every kingdom lies beneath another.
If daybreak when it comes sees someone proud,
that day’s departure will see him lie low.
No one should trust too much in his good fortune,
no one should give up hope of better luck.
Clotho mixes good with bad and stops
Fortune from standing still; each man’s fate rolls round.
No one has supporters rich enough
that he can guarantee himself tomorrow.
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God moves our lives around on his swift spindle
and turns them upside-down.
ACT FOUR
messenger What wind can whirl me sky-high through the air,
and wrap me in dark clouds, to tear my eyes away
from such abomination? This house would make blush
even Pelops and Tantalus.
chorus
What is your news?
messenger What place is this? Is it Argos, Sparta,
inheritance of two good brothers,* bordering
the twin sea-spouts of Corinth? Or is this where
the savage nomads run in flight on the frozen Hister;
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or Hyrcania, deep with snow, or Scythia, home to wanderers?
What place is witness to so great a horror?
chorus Tell us, reveal the evil, whatever it is.
* * *
thyestes
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messenger If my heart stops fluttering, if my body, stiff with fear,
can let my limbs be free. The vision of that crime
will not go from my eyes. Storm-winds, carry me
to where the day is taken far away.
chorus Do not keep us suffering in suspense!
Tell us what you shudder at! Reveal the criminal!
I ask not ‘Who?’ but ‘Which of them?’ it was. Out with it!
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messenger On top of the citadel, one side of Pelops’ castle
is turned towards the south. Its farthest side
rears high as the mountain, shadowing over the city.
If the people grow rebellious, kings can reach
to strike them. An enormous hall inside
shines bright, its woodwork all adorned with gold,
its marvellous columns spotted with different colours.
After this public area, known and revered by all,
the palace spreads out into many rooms:
a hidden space lies in the farthest part,
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an ancient grove buried in a deep valley,
at the centre of the kingdom, where no tree
blossomed or put forth fruit; no gardener pruned them.
swayed in that shadowy wood. Above them all
the oak tree dominates the grove from its great height.
From here the sons of Tantalus begin their reigns
from here they ask for help when things look bleak or doubtful.
Gifts hang from the trees; there is the trumpet,
the broken chariot,* spoils of the Myrtoan Sea;
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the wheels hang down from the pole that deceived the king.
All the family’s history is here. Here Pelops
attached his turban to the tree, and the enemy spoils,
and a cloak embroidered with triumphs over foreigners.
Under the shadows is set a dismal fountain,
stuck in a black and stagnant pool; most like
the ugly water of terrible Styx, by which the gods swear faith.*
They say the spirits groan here in the dead of night,
the grove resounds with the clattering of chains,
and the ghosts howl. All things that make one shudder
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even to hear, are there made visible. Old tombs break open,
releasing hordes of wandering dead. Everywhere spring
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thyestes
unprecedented wonders. Indeed, throughout the wood,
flames sparkle, and the tallest trunks shine, without fire.
Often the wood rings out with triple barking,
often great phantoms terrify the house.
Fear is not soothed by dawn: night-time belongs to that grove;
even in full daylight, the place is ruled by awe.
True oracles are given here to those who ask,
when from the inmost place, with a great crash,
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fates are set free, the whole wood gives a roar
when god unfurls his voice. This was the place
where angry Atreus dragged his brother’s children.
The altars are adorned — how can I say this? —
the little princes have their hands tied back;
he binds their poor little heads with a purple band.
Incense was not forgotten, or the holy juice of Bacchus,*
and with the knife he daubed the victims with salted grains.
All due ritual was observed, in case such a horrible crime
be done improperly.
chorus
Who held the sword?
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messenger He was the priest himself, he was the one
who gabbled out the deadly prayers, the rites of murder.
He stood there at the altar, he checked the victims’ bodies,
and he himself arranged them for the knife,
and acted as the audience.* No part of the rite was lost.