by Daisy Dunn
PYRRHIAS. Run!
SOSTRATOS. What is it?
PYRRHIAS. He’s pelting me with lumps of earth, and stones. Oh, it’s terrible.
SOSTRATOS. Pelting you? Where the devil are you going?
PYRRHIAS. [Stopping and looking round] He’s not after me any more, perhaps?
SOSTRATOS. He certainly isn’t.
PYRRHIAS. Oh, I thought he was.
SOSTRATOS. What on earth are you talking about?
PYRRHIAS. Let’s get out of here, please.
SOSTRATOS. Where to?
PYRRHIAS. Away from this door here, as far as possible. He’s a real son of pain, a man possessed, a lunatic, living here in this house, the man you sent me to see – oh, it’s terrible! I’ve banged my toes and pretty well broken the lot.
SOSTRATOS. And your errand?
PYRRHIAS. What? He beat me up! This way [moving towards exit, right].
SOSTRATOS. This chap’s off his head.
PYRRHIAS. It’s true, sir, I swear it, on my life. For goodness’ sake, keep your eyes open. I can hardly talk, I’m so out of breath.
Well, I knocked at the house door, and asked to see the owner. A miserable old crone answered the door, and from the very spot where I stand speaking to you now, she pointed him out. He was trailing around on that hill there, collecting wild pears – or a real load of trouble for his back.
CHAIREAS. He’s in a proper tizz. [To PYRRHIAS] So, my friend…?
PYRRHIAS. Well, I stepped on to his land and made my way towards him. I was still quite a way off, but I wanted to show some courtesy and tact, so I called to him and said, ‘I’ve come to see you, sir, on a business matter. I want to talk to you about something that’s to your advantage.’ But ‘You horrible heathen,’ he promptly replied, ‘trespassing on my land! What’s the idea?’ And he picks up a lump of earth and lets fly with it, right in my face.
CHAIREAS. The hell he did.
PYRRHIAS. And while I had my eyes shut, muttering ‘Well, God damn you’, he picks up a stick and sets about me, saying ‘Business is it – what business is there between you and me? Don’t you know where the public highway is?’ And he was shouting at the top of his voice.
CHAIREAS. From what you say, the farmer’s a raving lunatic.
PYRRHIAS. To finish my story: I took to my heels, and he ran after me for the better part of two miles, round the hill first, then down here to this wood. And he was slinging clods and stones at me, even his pears when he’d nothing else left. He’s a proper violent piece of work, a real old heathen. For goodness’ sake, move off!
SOSTRATOS. Chicken!
PYRRHIAS. You don’t realize the danger. He’ll eat us alive.
CHAIREAS. [Edging away] He seems to be a bit upset at the moment. Put off your visit to him, Sostratos, that’s my advice. I assure you that in any sort of business, finding the psychological moment is the secret of success.
PYRRHIAS. Yes, do show some sense.
CHAIREAS. A poor farmer’s always a bit touchy – not just this one, but nearly all of them. Tomorrow morning early. I’ll go and see him on my own, now that I know where he lives. For the moment, you go home and stay there. It’ll be all right. [Exit CHAIREAS, hurriedly, right.]
PYRRHIAS. Yes, let’s do that.
SOSTRATOS. He was delighted to find an excuse. It was quite clear from the start that he didn’t want to come with me, and that he didn’t approve at all of my notion of marriage. [To PYRRHIAS] But as for you, you devil, God rot you entirely, you sinner.
PYRRHIAS. Why, what have I done, sir?
SOSTRATOS. Some damage to property, obviously.
PYRRHIAS. I swear I never touched a thing.
SOSTRATOS. And a man beat you although you were doing no wrong?
PYRRHIAS. Yes, and [looking to the left] here he comes. [Calling to KNEMON] I’m just off, sir. [To SOSTRATOS] You talk to him. [Exit PYRRHIAS, right.]
SOSTRATOS. Oh, I couldn’t. I never convince anyone when I talk. [Looks to left] How can one describe a man like this? He doesn’t look at all amiable to me, by God he doesn’t. And he means business. I’ll just move a bit away from the door: that’s better. He’s actually yelling at the top of his voice, though he’s all on his own. I don’t think he’s right in the head. To tell the truth, I’m afraid of him, I really am.
[Enter KNEMON, left.]
KNEMON. Well, wasn’t Perseus the lucky one, twice over, too. First, he could fly, so he never had to meet any of those who walk the earth: and then he had this marvellous device with which he used to turn anyone who annoyed him into stone. I wish I had it now [looking at audience]. There’d be no shortage of stone statues all round here.
Life is becoming intolerable, by God it is. People are actually walking on to my land now, and talking to me. [Ironically] Of course, I’m used to hanging about on the public highway – sure I am! When I don’t even work this part of my land any longer, I’ve abandoned it because of the traffic. But now they’re following me up to the tops, hordes of them. Heavens, here’s another one, standing right beside the door.
SOSTRATOS. [Aside] I wonder if he’ll hit me?
KNEMON. Privacy – you can’t find it anywhere, not even if you want to hang yourself.
SOSTRATOS. [Addressing him] Am I offending you, sir? I’m waiting here for someone, I arranged to meet him.
KNEMON. What did I tell you? Do you and your friends think this is a public walk-way? or Piccadilly Circus? Sure, make a date to meet at my door, if you want to see someone. Feel free, put up a bench if you want, build yourselves a club-house. What I suffer! Sheer impertinence, that’s the whole trouble, in my opinion. [Exit KNEMON into his house.]
Sostratos befriends Gorgias, the misanthrope’s stepson, who suggests that he prove his diligence by coming to work the fields. The misanthrope then falls down a well.
[Enter SOSTRATOS, from KNEMON’s house.]
SOSTRATOS. [Addressing audience] My friends, by all the gods of heaven I swear, I have never in my whole life seen a man so conveniently half-drowned. That episode was a delight! As soon as we got there, Gorgias jumped straight down into the well, and the girl and I did nothing in particular up top. Well, what could we do? Except that she was tearing her hair, crying and pounding away at her breast, and I was standing there like a nanny – I really was, and a fine fool I looked – pleading with her to stop it, worshipping at her shrine and feasting my eyes on a perfect picture. For the victim down below I cared less than nothing, except for trying all the time to haul him up – that did inconvenience me a bit! And I tell you, I very nearly did for him. For as I gazed into the girl’s eyes, I let the rope go, two or three times. But Gorgias was a veritable Atlas: he kept a grip on him and eventually, with considerable difficulty, got him up.
When he was safely out, I came out, and here I am. I couldn’t control myself any longer – I very nearly went up to the girl and kissed her. That’s how madly in love I am. I’m preparing the ground – but the door’s opening. God in heaven, look at that!
[KNEMON is wheeled out on a couch, GORGIAS and the girl with him.]
GORGIAS. Can I do anything for you, sir? You only have to ask.
KNEMON. Oh, I’m in a very bad way.
GORGIAS. Cheer up!
KNEMON. Don’t worry, Knemon will never trouble any of you again, ever.
GORGIAS. Look, this is the kind of thing that happens when you live like a hermit. You came very close to death just now. A man of your age should end his days with someone to look after him.
KNEMON. I know I’m in a bad way, Gorgias. Ask your mother to come, tell her it’s urgent. We only learn from bitter experience, it seems. Little daughter, please help me to sit up.
SOSTRATOS. [Viewing process] Lucky fellow!
KNEMON. [To SOSTRATOS] Why are you hanging about there, you miserable man?
[Several lines are missing here, but it is clear that Gorgias has fetched
Myrrhine, and that Knemon has begun his great speech.]
KNEMON.
… and not one of you could change my views on that, make up your minds to it. One mistake I did perhaps make, in thinking that I could be completely self-sufficient, and would never need anyone’s assistance. Now that I’ve seen how sudden and unexpected death can be, I realize I was stupid to take that line. You always need to have – and to have handy – someone to help you. When I saw how people lived, calculating everything for profit, I swear I grew cynical, and I never even imagined that any man would ever do a disinterested kindness to another.
I was wrong. By his noble efforts Gorgias, all by himself, has managed to demonstrate that. I never let him come near my door, never did him the slightest service, never said ‘good morning’ or gave him a kind word. And yet he’s saved my life. Another man might (with some justification) have said ‘You don’t let me come near you; I’m keeping well away. You’ve never done anything for my family: I’m doing nothing for you now.’ [To GORGIAS, who is looking embarrassed] What’s the matter, boy? Whether I die now (which seems only too likely, I’m not at all well), or whether I live, I’m adopting you as my son, and anything I have, consider it all your own. My daughter here I entrust to your care. Find her a husband. Even if I make a complete recovery, I won’t be able to do that, for I’ll never find anyone I approve of. If I live, leave me to live my own life, but take over and manage everything else.
You’ve got some sense, thank God, and you’re your sister’s natural protector. Divide my property, give half for her dowry, and use the other half to provide for her mother and myself. [To his daughter] Lay me down again, my dear. I don’t think a man should ever say more than is strictly necessary, so I’ll add only this, my child: I want to tell you a little about myself and my ways. If everyone was like me, there’d be no law-suits or dragging one another off to gaol, and no wars: everyone would be satisfied with a moderate competence. But you may like things better as they are. Then live that way. The cantankerous and bad-tempered old man won’t stop you.
GORGIAS. I accept all that. But, with your assistance, we must find a husband for the girl without delay, if you agree.
KNEMON. Look, I’ve told you my intentions. Leave me alone, for goodness’ sake.
GORGIAS. Someone wants a word with you –
KNEMON. For God’s sake, NO!
GORGIAS. … to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.
KNEMON. I’ve no further concern with that.
GORGIAS. But it’s the man who helped to rescue you.
KNEMON. Who?
GORGIAS. He’s here. Come on, Sostratos.
KNEMON. He’s certainly been in the sun. A farmer, is he?
GORGIAS. Yes, and a good one, Father. He’s not soft, not the kind that strolls idly round all day.
[In two badly damaged lines, Knemon probably gives his consent to the marriage.]
KNEMON. Wheel me in. You see to him. And look after your sister.
[He is wheeled into his house.]
GORGIAS. You’d better consult your family about this, Sostratos.
SOSTRATOS. My father will make no difficulties.
GORGIAS. [Formally] Then I betroth her to you, Sostratos, giving her to you in the sight of heaven, as is right and proper. You’ve been frank and straightforward in approaching the business, without any deceit in your courtship. And you were ready to do anything to win the girl. You’ve lived soft, but you took a mattock and dug the land, you were willing to work. A man really proves his true worth when, although he’s well-off, he’s ready to treat a poor man as his equal. A man like that will bear any change of fortune with a good grace. You’ve given adequate proof of your character. Just stay that way!
THE CONTEST OF TWO MOUNTAINS
Fragmentary Poems
Corinna
Translated by I. M. Plant, 2004
This rare fragment comes from a poem by Corinna, a female poet from central Greece, and describes two mountains, Helicon and Cithaeron, engaging in a song contest. The mountains have just sung their songs, one of which described Rhea hiding her son Zeus away in a cave so that his father Kronos would not swallow him as he did his other children. It is now time for the gods to decide which mountain is the winner. Historically, Corinna was believed to have been a near contemporary of a sixth–fifth-century BC male poet named Pindar, and this poem a sort of allegory of the rivalry between them, but many scholars now believe that she lived hundreds of years later, in the third century BC.
The Contest of Helicon and Cithaeron
At once the Muses told the blessed gods
to cast their secret votes
in the golden-glowing urns
and together they all rose up.
Cithaeron took the majority
and at once Hermes shouted out and proclaimed
that he had taken the victory he so desired,
and the blessed gods crowned him
with a victor’s garland of fir,
and his mind was full of joy.
But Helicon was seized
by bitter pains and
ripped out a shinning rock
and the mountain shook. In pain
he cried and from above he smashed it down
into ten thousand pieces of stone.
HERCULES AND THE TWELVE LABOURS
Library of History, Book IV
Diodorus Siculus
Translated by G. Booth, 1814
Hercules, the son of Zeus and a mortal named Alcmene, married Megara, the daughter of King Creon of Thebes. When a neighbouring king named Eurystheus grew envious of Hercules’ authority, he challenged him to complete Twelve Labours, much to the pleasure of Zeus’ wife Hera (Juno). Although Hercules was reluctant, an oracle confirmed that the gods desired him to do as Eurystheus bade. They would reward him with immortality if he succeeded in the quest. Diodorus Siculus, a Greek historian of the first century BC from Sicily, describes the fiendish Labours in full.
Perseus (they say) was the son of Jupiter by Danaë, the daughter of Acrisius, and that Perseus begat Electryon of Andromeda, the daughter of Cepheus, and that Electryon begat Alcmena of Eurydice the daughter of Pelops, and that Jupiter (deceiving Alcmena) lay with her, and begat Hercules: so that by this genealogy Hercules descended from the chiefest of the gods, both immediately by his mother, and more remotely by his great grandfather Perseus. His virtue and valour were not only evident from his acts, but might be concluded and foreseen by what happened before he was born: for when Jupiter lay with Alcmena, he lengthened the night threefold, so that, spending so much time in procreating this child was a sign how extraordinary strong he was likely to be. They say that Jupiter lay not with her out of any amorous pang of love, as with other women, but merely for procreation sake: and therefore, willing that his embraces at this time should be lawful, he forbore all violence; and knowing that the woman’s chastity was such, that no arguments would prevail with her, he deceived her by taking upon him the shape of Amphitryon.
And now the time of her delivery drew nigh, when Jupiter, full of thoughts concerning the birth of Hercules, in the presence of all the gods declared, that he would make him king of the Persians, who was to be born that day. Whereupon Juno, enraged with jealousy, with the assistance of Ilithyia1 her daughter, gave a check to the delivery of Alcmena, and brought forth Eurystheus before his full time. But though Jupiter was thus outwitted by Juno, yet, that he might perform his promise, he took care to preserve the honour and reputation of Hercules; and therefore it is reported, that he prevailed with Juno to consent, that Eurystheus being made king according to his promise, Hercules, (who should be subject to him), performing twelve labours, (such as Eurystheus should impose upon him), should be taken into the society of the immortal gods.
Alcmena being delivered (out of fear of Juno’s jealousy) exposed the child in a place which is now, from him, called Hercules’s Field. About which time Minerva, together with Juno, walking abroad, found the infant, and, much admiring his beauty, Minerva persuaded Juno to give it suck: the child drawing the breast wi
th more violence than at his age was usual, Juno, not able to endure the pain, cast away the infant, whom Minerva took up, and brought home to his mother, to be nursed by her. The accident here seems very strange and remarkable: for the mother, who owed a natural affection to her own child, exposed him to destruction; but she who hated him, as a step-mother, (unknowingly) preserved her natural enemy.
Afterwards Juno sent two serpents to devour the child: but he took them with both his hands by their throats, and strangled them. Upon which account the Argives (coming to understand what was done) called him Hercules2, because Juno was the occasion of his glory and fame, for he was before called Alcides. Others are named by their parents, but he gained his name by his valour.
In after times it happened that Amphitryon, being banished from Tyrinthe, settled himself in Thebes; here Hercules was educated, here he was instructed and greatly improved in all laudable exercises, insomuch that he excelled all others in strength of body, and also in the excellent endowments of his mind.
Being now grown up to man’s estate, he first freed Thebes from tyrannical slavery, and thereby made a grateful return to the country where he was bred. The Thebans at that time were under the tyranny of Erginus, king of the Minyans3, who every year exacted tribute from them, not without scorn and contempt. Hercules, therefore, not at all discouraged with the greatness of the bondage they laboured under, attempted a glorious piece of service. For when those who were sent from the Minyae to collect the tribute carried it insolently towards the people, he cut off their ears, and cast them out of the city; whereupon Erginus demanded the delivery up of the malefactor, and Creon, the prince of Thebes, (dreading the potency of Erginus) resolved to deliver him up; but Hercules stirred up the young men of the city to arm themselves, in order to recover the liberty of their country, and to that end took away all the arms that were in the temples, formerly dedicated to the gods by their ancestors, of the spoils of their enemies: for none of the citizens had any arms of their own, by reason the Minyans had disarmed the city; so that the Thebans had not the least thought of a revolt.
