by Daisy Dunn
Have done, you judge severely. But I warn you—
Threaten me on the understanding that I am ready
For two alternatives—Win by force the right
To rule me, but, if God brings about the contrary,
Late in time you will have to learn self-discipline.
CHORUS.
You are high in the thoughts,
You speak extravagant things,
After the soiling murder your crazy heart
Fancies your forehead with a smear of blood.
Unhonoured, unfriended, you must
Pay for a blow with a blow.
CLYTEMNESTRA.
Listen then to this—the sanction of my oaths:
By the Justice totting up my child’s atonement,
By the Avenging Doom and Fiend to whom I killed this man,
For me hope walks not in the rooms of fear
So long as my fire is lit upon my hearth
By Aegisthus, loyal to me as he was before.
The man who outraged me lies here.
The darling of each courtesan at Troy,
And here with him is the prisoner clairvoyante,
The fortune-teller that he took to bed,
Who shares his bed as once his bench on shipboard,
A loyal mistress. Both have their deserts.
He lies so; and she who like a swan
Sang her last dying lament
Lies his lover, and the sight contributes
An appetiser to my own bed’s pleasure.
CHORUS.
Ah would some quick death come not overpainful,
Not overlong on the sickbed,
Establishing in us the ever-
Lasting unending sleep now that our guardian
Has fallen, the kindest of men,
Who suffering much for a woman
By a woman has lost his life.
O Helen, insane, being one
One to have destroyed so many
And many souls under Troy,
Now is your work complete, blossomed not for oblivion,
Unfading stain of blood. Here now, if in any home
Is Discord, here is a man’s deep-rooted ruin.
CLYTEMNESTRA.
Do not pray for the portion of death
Weighed down by these things, do not turn
Your anger on Helen as destroyer of men.
One woman destroyer of many
Lives of Greek men,
A hurt that cannot be healed.
CHORUS.
O Evil Spirit, falling on the family.
On the two sons of Atreus and using
Two sisters in heart as your tools.
A power that bites to the heart—
See on the body
Perched like a raven he gloats
Harshly croaking his hymn.
CLYTEMNESTRA.
Ah, now you have amended your lips’ opinion.
Calling upon this family’s three times gorged
Genius—demon who breeds
Blood-hankering lust in the belly:
Before the old sore heals, new pus collects.
CHORUS.
It is a great spirit—great—
You tell of, harsh in anger,
A ghastly tale, alas,
Of unsatisfied disaster
Brought by Zeus, by Zeus,
Cause and worker of all.
For without Zeus what comes to pass among us?
Which of these things is outside Providence?
O my king, my king,
How shall I pay you in tears,
Speak my affection in words?
You lie in that spider’s web,
In a desecrating death breathe out your life,
Lie ignominiously
Defeated by a crooked death
And the two-edged cleaver’s stroke.
CLYTEMNESTRA.
You say this is my work—mine?
Do not cozen yourself that I am Agamemnon’s wife.
Masquerading as the wife
Of the corpse there the old sharp-witted Genius
Of Atreus who gave the cruel banquet
Has paid with a grown man’s life
The due for children dead.
CHORUS.
That you are not guilty of
This murder who will attest?
No, but you may have been abetted
By some ancestral Spirit of Revenge.
Wading a millrace of the family’s blood
The black Manslayer forces a forward path
To make the requital at last
For the eaten children, the blood-clot cold with time.
O my king, my king.
How shall I pay you in tears,
Speak my affection in words?
You lie in that spider’s web,
In a desecrating death breathe out your life,
Lie ignominiously
Defeated by a crooked death
And the two-edged cleaver’s stroke.
EDUCATING CYRUS
Cyropaedia
Xenophon
Translated by Wayne Ambler, 2001
The Cyropaedia or ‘Education of Cyrus’ is a glorifying life of Cyrus the Great (c. 600–530 BC), the founding king of the Persian Empire, centred on the southwestern part of modern Iran. Often likened to Machiavelli’s The Prince, it was written by Xenophon (c. 431–354 BC), a pupil of Socrates, in the first half of the fourth century BC – more than a century and a half after Cyrus lived. In this passage, Cyrus, son of Cambyses and Mandane, is around twelve years old. He accompanies his mother on a visit to see his grandfather Astyages, a king of the Medes, who lived to the north of the Persians. This extract reveals the cultural differences between the Medes and their southern neighbours.
As soon as he arrived and Cyrus knew Astyages to be his mother’s father, he immediately—since he was by nature an affectionate boy—hugged him as one would have done if he had been raised with him and had been friendly with him for a long time. And he saw him adorned with eye shadow, rouge, and a wig—as was, of course, customary among the Medes (for all these things were Median: purple coats, cloaks, necklaces, and bracelets on their wrists; but among the Persians who are at home, their clothes are even now much more ordinary and their diet much cheaper). So seeing the adornment of his grandfather, he said while looking at him, “Mother, how handsome my grandfather is!”
And when his mother asked him whom he thought more handsome, Astyages or his father, Cyrus then answered, “Of the Persians, my father is the most handsome by far; of the Medes, however, this grandfather of mine is by far the most handsome of those I have seen both in the streets and at court.”
Hugging him in return, the grandfather put a beautiful robe on him and honored and adorned him with necklaces and bracelets, and if ever he went out somewhere, he took him along on a horse with a golden bridle, in just the way he himself was accustomed to travel. Since he was a boy who loved beauty and honor, Cyrus was pleased with the robe and exceedingly delighted at learning how to ride a horse. For among the Persians, it was very rare even to see a horse, because it is difficult to raise horses and difficult to ride them in so mountainous a country.
When at dinner with his daughter and Cyrus, Astyages wished the boy to dine as pleasantly as possible so that he might yearn less for what he had left at home. He thus put before him fancy side dishes and all sorts of sauces and meats; and they say that Cyrus said, “Grandfather, how many troubles you have at dinner, if it is necessary for you to stretch out your hands to all these little dishes and taste all these different sorts of meat!”
“What?” Astyages said. “Does it not seem to you that this dinner is much finer than that among the Persians?”
To this Cyrus answered, “No, grandfather, for the road to satisfaction is much more simple and direct among us than among you, for bread and meat take us to it. You hurry to the same place as we do, yet only after wandering back and forth on many curves do you arr
ive with difficulty at the point we reached long ago.”
“But child,” Astyages said, “we are not distressed to wander as we do. Taste them, and you too will realize that they are pleasant.”
“And yet I see that even you, grandfather, are disgusted with these meats,” he said.
And Astyages asked again, “And on what evidence do you say this, my child?”
“Because,” he said, “I see that you too, whenever you touch your bread, do not wipe your hand on anything; but whenever you touch any of these, you wipe your hand on your napkin as if you were most distressed that it became soiled with them.”
To this Astyages said, “If you are so resolved, my child, feast at least upon these meats, so that you may go home a vigorous youth.” As he was saying this, he had a great deal of meat brought to him, of both wild and tame animals.
When he saw all this meat, Cyrus said, “Are you giving me all this meat, grandfather, to use however I want?”
“Yes, my child, by Zeus I am,” he said.
Then Cyrus, taking the meat, distributed it to his grandfather’s servants and said to each, “This is for you, because you teach me to ride with enthusiasm; for you, because you gave me a javelin, and now I have it; for you, because you serve my grandfather nobly; for you, because you honor my mother.” He proceeded like this until he distributed all the meat that he received.
“But to Sakas, my cupbearer, whom I honor most,” Astyages said, “do you give nothing?” Now Sakas happened to be handsome and to have the honor of admitting those who sought Astyages and of excluding such as he did not think it opportune to admit.
And Cyrus answered rashly, as would a boy not yet afraid. “Why, grandfather, do you honor him so?”
And Astyages replied jokingly, “Do you not see how nobly and gracefully he pours out my wine?” The cupbearers of these kings carry the cup with refinement, pour the wine cleanly, hand over the cup while holding it with three fingers, and present the cup in the way it is most easily grasped by the one who is about to drink.
“Order Sakas to give me the cup, grandfather,” he said, “that I too, by nobly pouring wine for you to drink, may win you over if I can.” And he ordered him to give it. Cyrus, they say, taking the cup, rinsed it so well, as he had seen Sakas do, made such a serious face, and brought and presented it to his grandfather so gracefully that he afforded much laughter to his mother and Astyages. Cyrus himself laughed out loud, leaped up onto his grandfather, kissed him, and said, “Sakas, you are done for; I will cast you out of honor, for I will both pour the wine more nobly than you in other respects and I will not drink of the wine myself.” Now the cupbearers of the kings, when they present the cup, draw out some of it with a small cup and, pouring it into their left hand, swallow it down, so that they might not profit if they have added poison.
Upon this Astyages said jokingly, “Cyrus, since you imitated Sakas in other respects, why did you not swallow some of the wine?”
“Because, by Zeus,” he said, “I was afraid there might have been some poison mixed in the cup, for when you entertained your friends on your birthday, I learned quite clearly that he had added poison for you all.”
“And how, my child,” he said, “did you come to know this?”
“Because, by Zeus, I saw you all making mistakes, both in your judgments and with your bodies, for in the first place, you yourselves were doing such things as you do not allow us boys to do, for you all shouted at the same time, and you did not comprehend each other at all. Then you sang very ridiculously, and even though you did not listen to the singer, you all swore that he sang most excellently. Then, after each spoke of his own strength, when you stood up to dance, far from dancing in time with the rhythm, you were not even able to stand up straight. You all forgot yourselves entirely, you that you were king, the others that you were their ruler. Then I learned for the first time that what you were practicing was that liberty of speech; at least you were never silent.”
And Astyages said, “My child, has not your father gotten drunk from drinking?”
“No, by Zeus,” he said.
“But what does he do?”
“He quenches his thirst and suffers no harm, for a Sakas, grandfather, certainly does not pour his wine.”
And his mother said, “But why ever, my child, do you make war on Sakas like this?”
“Because I hate him, by Zeus,” said Cyrus, “for often when I desire to run up to my grandfather, this most wretched fellow shuts me out. But I beg you, grandfather, give me three days to rule over him.”
And Astyages said, “And how would you rule him?”
And it is said that Cyrus said, “Standing at the entrance, just as he does, whenever he wished to come in for lunch, I would say that it is not possible to have lunch yet, ‘for he is busy with certain others.’ Then, when he came for supper, I would say, ‘He is washing.’ If he were very much in earnest to eat, I would say, ‘He is with his women.’ I would detain him so long, just as he detains me, keeping me from you.”
Such amusement did he afford them at meals. At other times of the day, if he perceived either his grandfather or his mother’s brother in need of anything, it was difficult for anyone else to take care of it before he did, for Cyrus was extremely delighted to gratify them in any way within his power.
When Mandane was preparing to go back to her husband again, Astyages asked her to leave Cyrus behind. She answered that she wished to gratify her father in all things, but that she believed it to be difficult to leave the boy behind against his will. At this point Astyages said to Cyrus, “My child, if you stay with me, in the first place, Sakas will not govern your access to me, but it will be up to you to come to me whenever you wish. And I will be more grateful to you to the extent that you come to me more often. Next, you will use my horses and as many others as you wish, and when you leave, you may take the ones you yourself want. Next, at meals, you may take whatever path you wish to what seems to you to be a measured [diet]. Next, I give you the wild animals that are now in the park, and I will collect others of all kinds, which, as soon as you learn how to ride a horse, you may pursue and strike down with your bow and spear, just as the grown men do. I will also get you boys for playmates, and, if only you tell me, you will not fail to get whatever else you wish.”
After Astyages said this, his mother asked Cyrus whether he wished to stay or go. He did not hesitate but quickly said that he wished to stay. Again being asked by his mother as to why, it is said that he said, “Because at home, mother, among those of my age, I both am and am thought to be the best at throwing spears and shooting the bow, but here I know quite well that I am inferior to those of my age at riding. Be well assured, mother, that this vexes me greatly. But if you leave me here and I learn how to ride a horse, when I am in Persia, I think that I will easily be victorious for you over those who are good on foot; but when I come to Media, I shall try for grandfather to be an ally to him by being the best horseman among these good horsemen.”
Cyrus accepted Astyages’ invitation to stay behind in Media for some time in the hope of becoming an expert horseman. Later, in his adult years, he united the empires of the Medes and the Persians.
DARIUS AND THE SCYTHIANS
Histories, Book IV
Herodotus
Translated by Aubrey de Sélincourt, 1954
Herodotus, popularly hailed as the ‘Father of History’, was born in Halicarnassus (modern Bodrum) in what is now Turkey, in the early fifth century BC. He was fascinated by the customs of different peoples, and his account of the Scythians, nomads who ranged the Russian steppe in the period 900–200 BC, is among the most colourful in the whole of his Histories. The Scythians were tattooed, pot-smoking horsemen who scalped their enemies and attached the remains to their horses. In this story Herodotus describes how they reacted when Darius I, king of Persia, invaded their territory with his formidable army in the late sixth century BC.
The Scythians, after discussing the situation and conc
luding that by themselves they were unequal to the task of coping with Darius in a straight fight, sent off messengers to their neighbours, whose chieftains had already met and were forming plans to deal with what was evidently a threat to their safety on a very large scale. The conference was attended by the chieftains of the following tribes: the Tauri, Agathyrsi, Neuri, Androphagi, Melanchlaeni, Geloni, Budini, and Sauromatae. It is the custom of the Tauri to sacrifice to the Maiden Goddess all shipwrecked sailors and such Greeks as they happen to capture upon their coasts; their method of sacrifice is, after the preliminary ceremonies, to hit the victim on the head with a club. Some say that they push the victim’s body over the edge of the cliff on which their temple stands, and fix the head on a stake; others, while agreeing about the head, say the body is not pushed over the cliff, but buried. The Tauri themselves claim that the goddess to whom these offerings are made is Agamemnon’s daughter, Iphigenia. Any one of them who takes a prisoner in war, cuts off his head and carries it home, where he sets it up high over the house on a long pole, generally above the chimney. The heads are supposed to act as guardians of the whole house over which they hang. War and plunder are the sources of this people’s livelihood.
The Agathyrsi live in luxury and wear gold on their persons. They have their women in common, so that they may all be brothers and, as members of a single family, be able to live together without jealousy or hatred. In other respects their way of life resembles that of the Thracians.
The Neuri share the customs and beliefs of Scythia. A generation before the campaign of Darius they were forced to quit their country by snakes, which appeared all over the place in great numbers, while still more invaded them from the uninhabited region to the north, until life became so unendurable that there was nothing for it but to move out, and take up their quarters with the Budini. It is not impossible that these people practise magic; for there is a story current amongst the Scythians and the Greeks in Scythia that once a year every Neurian turns into a wolf for a day or two, and then turns back into a man again. Of course, I do not believe this tale; all the same, they tell it, and even swear to the truth of it. The Androphagi are the most savage of men, and have no notion of either law or justice. They are herdsmen without fixed dwellings; their dress is Scythian, their language peculiar to themselves, and they are the only people in this part of the world to eat human flesh. The Melanchlaeni all wear black cloaks – hence their name. In all else, they resemble the Scythians. The Budini, a numerous and powerful nation, all have markedly blue-grey eyes and red hair; there is a town in their territory called Gelonus, all built of wood, both dwelling-houses and temples, with a high wooden wall round it, thirty furlongs each way. There are temples here in honour of Greek gods, adorned after the Greek manner with statues, altars, and shrines – though all constructed of wood; a triennial festival, with the appropriate revelry, is held in honour of Dionysus. This is to be accounted for by the fact that the Geloni were originally Greeks, who, driven out of the seaports along the coast, settled amongst the Budini. Their language is still half Scythian, half Greek. The language of the Budini is quite different, as, indeed, is their culture generally: they are a pastoral people who have always lived in this part of the country (a peculiarity of theirs is eating lice), whereas the Geloni cultivate the soil, eat grain, and keep gardens, and resemble them neither in appearance nor complexion. In spite of these facts the Greeks lump the Budini and Geloni together under the name of the latter; but they are wrong to do so.
