by Seneca
MINISTER: Men compelled by fear
To praise, may be by fear compelled to hate.
He who desires to win sincere approval
Will seek it in the heart, not on the tongue.
ATREUS: A moderate man may win sincere approval;
It takes a strong man to enforce feigned praise.
Men must be made to want what they dislike.
MINISTER: Let the king want what’s right, who will oppose him?
ATREUS: The king who binds himself to want what’s right Sits on a shaky throne.
MINISTER: No throne can stand
Where there is neither shame nor law nor trust
Nor care for sanctity or piety.
ATEBUS: Sanctity, piety, trust – are luxuries
For private life. Leave kings to go their own way.
MINISTER: To harm a brother, even a guilty brother, Must be a sin.
ATREUS: Whatever might be sin
Against a brother, can be only justice
In this man’s case. What has he left untouched
By his unlawful acts, what crime not dared?
He took my wife by rape, my throne by theft;
By treachery he won our ancient crown;
He brought our house to ruin by treachery.
You know that in the royal byres of Pelops
We have a famous animal, a ram
Of mystic origin, king of a flock
Of valuable beasts; its back is covered
With an abundant fleece of purest gold,
And from this fleece is made the golden sceptre
Borne by each reigning heir of Tantalus.
The owner of the ram is king; the ram
Controls the destinies of all our house.
His pasture, as befits a sacred beast,
Is in a special precinct safely guarded
By strong stone walls which circle and protect
This grazing-ground on which our fates depend.
My brother planned a bold and treacherous plot –
My wife, the partner of my nuptial bed,
Being privy to that most nefarious deed –
To steal this golden ram. And from that fount
Springs all this spate of mutual enmity.
Banished, I wandered lonely and afraid
Throughout my realm. No portion of my birthright
Was safe from his rapacity and cunning;
My wife seduced, my sovereignty disowned,
My blood disgraced, my progeny suspected.
One thing alone was certain in my life –
My brother’s enmity. Then why stand idle?
Where is my resolution? Think of Pelops
And Tantalus; these are the precedents
My hand is called to follow.… Tell me, man,
How can I best destroy that hated head?
MINISTER: A sword’s point will draw out an enemy’s breath.
ATREUS: You tell me of the end of punishment;
I ask, what punishment? The kindest king
Can put a man to death; under my rule
A culprit should be made to beg for death.
MINISTER: Is nothing sacred?
ATREUS: Sanctity, begone! –
If thou wast ever known within these walls.
Come all the dread battalions of the Furies!
Come, seed of strife, Erinys! Come, Megaera,
With torches armed! My spirit yet lacks fire;
It would be filled with still more monstrous rage.
MINISTER: What new device will your wild rage invent?
ATREUS: No act that common anger knows. Nothing
Will I not do! Yet nothing will content me.
MINISTER: By sword?
ATREUS: Too light.
MINISTER: By fire?
ATREUS: Not yet enough.
MINISTER: What other tool can your dire vengeance use?
ATREUS: Himself – Thyestes!
MINISTER: This is worse than vengeance.
ATREUS: It is. My heart is shaken with a storm
Of passion that confounds it to its centre.
I am compelled, although I know not whither,
I am compelled by forces.… Hear! the earth
Groans from its depths; the sky is clear, but thunder
Rumbles, and from the house there came a crash
As if the roof were falling; and our gods,
Shaken, have turned their backs on us. So be it!
Let a black deed be done, which gods above
Will fear to see.
MINISTER: What deed is in your mind?
ATREUS: I know not what. Some deed more wonderful
Than mind can contemplate, more terrible
Than any ordinary act of man,
Beyond the bounds of human nature, fills
My soul and prompts my idle hand to action.
What it will be, I know not. It will be,
I know, something tremendous.… Yes, I have it!
Hold hard to this, my soul! This is a deed
Thyestes could be proud of, as can Atreus;
Let them be partners in the doing of it!
Was there not an abominable banquet
Seen in the house of Tereus1 of Odrysia?
There was; and truth to tell, it was a crime
Most horrible. But I have been forestalled;
My vengeance must contrive a better crime.
Mother and sister of Daulis,2 give me guidance!
My case is yours; help and direct my hand!…
What if the father could be made to tear
His children into pieces, happily,
With eager appetite – eat his own flesh?…
Good, very good. I could be well content
With such a punishment.… But now, where is he?
Is Atreus to be innocent much longer?
A picture of the murder, done, complete,
Rises before my eyes… the father’s mouth
Devouring his lamented little ones.…
What! Is this fear again, my heart? Dost faint
Upon the point of action? Call thy courage up!
In this vile act the most atrocious part
Will be the victim’s own.
MINISTER: By what device
Will he be lured to walk into our net?
He looks for danger everywhere.
ATREUS: We could not
Catch him, were he not hoping to catch us.
Already he aspires to win my throne;
To gain this end he would stand up to Jove
Armed with his thunderbolts; to gain this end
He is about to brave the angry sea,
To cross the dangerous shoals of Libyan Syrtis;
For this, he will endure what he most hates –
His brother’s sight.
MINISTER: How will he be persuaded
That peace is made?1 Whom will he trust for that?
ATREUS: Dishonest hope is always credulous.
But I shall give a message to my sons
To carry to their uncle. They will ask him
To quit his vagrant life in foreign lands,
Exchange his penury for royal state,
And be my partner in the rule of Argos.
Should he prove obstinate and spurn these prayers,
His sons, less hardened, tired of deprivation,
And easy to deceive, will listen to them.
But his inveterate determination
To gain the kingdom, added to the weight
Of his misfortunes and dire poverty,
Albeit these have toughened his resistance,
Will surely bring him round.
MINISTER: May not long habit
Seem to have lightened his afflictions?
ATREUS: No;
The sense of suffering grows continually.
A hardship may be easy to accept,
But very irksome to endure for ever.
MINISTER: My lord, I would advise you t
o employ
Some other instruments for your fell purpose.
Young men are all too apt to learn bad lessons;
The stratagems that you would have them use
Against their uncle, they may come in time
To use against their father. Very often
A counsellor of crime has found his precepts
Employed against himself.
ATREUS: They’ll learn the ways
Of crime and villainy, without a master;
Their kingly life will teach them. Have no fear
Of their becoming villains; they were born so.
Besides, what is to your mind harsh and cruel,
What you call heartless and inhuman conduct,
May well be happening on the other side.
MINISTER: Your sons will know the trap you are preparing?
ATREUS: They are not old enough to keep a secret;
They would betray the plot. It takes a man
Experienced in defeat to learn discretion.
MINISTER: Would you deceive the very messengers
By whom you purpose to deceive your enemy?
ATREUS: Yes, so that they at least be innocent
Of guilt, or blame for their complicity.
Why should I need to implicate my sons
In my dark deeds? Let me alone exact
My own revenge.… No, no, my heart; no bungling,
No weakening now! If you would spare your sons,
You will be sparing his. No – Agamemnon
Shall be a conscious agent of my plan,
And Menelaus help him with full knowledge.
Their handling of the deed will give me means
To test the truth of their suspected birth.
If they refuse the encounter, if they will not
Help me to my revenge, if they protest
‘He is our uncle’ – then he is their father.
About it, then.… And yet, a timid face
Can give away too much; in great affairs
The unwilling hand is easily detected.
No – my assistants shall be ignorant
Of the importance of their mission…. You, sir –
Say nothing of my plan.
MINISTER: I need no telling.
Your words are locked within my breast by fear
And duty – but by duty above all.
CHORUS
At last this royal seat, this ancient race of Inachus,
Sees its old fratricidal feud composed, strife laid to rest.1
What senseless folly drove our kings to shed each others’
blood
And use such sinful means to win possession of a throne?
Were they so covetous of royal citadels of power?
Did they not know where only perfect kingship can be found?
It is not worldly wealth that makes a king,
Nor the rich diadem encompassing
His royal head, nor the proud gaudiness
Of gilded halls and Tyrian purple dress.
A king is he who has no ill to fear,
Whose hand is innocent, whose conscience clear;
Who scorns licentious greed, who has not bowed
To the false favour of the fickle crowd.
The minerals unearthed in western lands,
The ore washed down in Tagus’ glittering sands,
Are not for him; nor all the golden grain
Threshed from the harvests of the Libyan plain.
He is the man who faces unafraid
The lightning’s glancing stroke; is not dismayed
By storm-tossed seas; whose ship securely braves
The windy rage of Adriatic waves;
Who has escaped alive the soldier’s arm,
The brandished steel; who, far removed from harm,
Looks down upon the world, faces his end
With confidence, and greets death as a friend.
Above the king whose broad domain
Covers the far-flung Scythian plain,
The king who holds his court beside
The ruby sea whose blood-red tide
Sparkles with gems, the king who wards
The Caspian pass from Slavic hordes;
Above the king whose feet dare tread
Upon the Danube’s icebound bed,
Or him who rules (where’er be these)
The famed silk-farms of the Chinese:
Above all, innocence alone
Commands a kingdom of its own.
This kingdom needs no armed defence,
No horseman, nor that vain pretence
Of Parthian archers who, in flight,
Shoot arrows to prolong the fight.
It has no need of cannon balls
And guns to batter city walls.
To have no fear of anything,
To want not, is to be a king.
This is the kingdom every man
Gives to himself, as each man can.
Let others scale dominion’s slippery peak;
Peace and obscurity are all I seek.
Enough for me to live alone, and please
Myself with idleness and leisured ease.
A man whose name his neighbours would not know,
I’d watch my stream of life serenely flow
Through years of quietness, until the day
When an old man, a commoner, passed away.
Death’s terrors are for him who, too well known,
Will die a stranger to himself alone.1
ACT THREE
Thyestes, Young Tantalus, Plisthenes, and another son
THYESTES: The place that I have most desired to see –
House of my fathers, majesty of Argos;
My native soil – the exile’s greatest joy,
The outcast’s hope; gods of my fatherland,
If there be any gods. These now I see
With my own eyes; and there the sacred walls,
The Cyclops’ work, of more than human grandeur;
And there the course where the young men resort,
Where I myself gained honours more than once
Driving to victory in my father’s chariot.
All Argos, all her people, will be here
To meet me. I shall meet my brother, Atreus…
No! Back! Go back, man, to the forest’s shelter,
The leafy glades, your life among the beasts,
Shared with the beasts. This blaze of royalty
Cannot deceive your eyes with its false show.
When you are tempted to admire the gift,
Observe the giver. I was confident
And happy in a life which most would think
Intolerable; now my fears return.
My spirit falters and arrests my body;
I am unwilling to go on my way.
TANTALUS: Why does my father move with such slow steps
As in a trance, and cast his eyes around
Seeming to be uncertain of himself?
THYESTES: What, can you doubt, my brain? The course is clear
And needs no anxious thought. A throne? A brother?
What could be more unworthy of your trust
Than those uncertain things? Are you afraid
Of hardships which you have already tamed
And learnt to overcome? Do you now seek
Escape from comfortable indigence?
No, better far to be a beggar still.
Turn back, while yet you can; get safe away.
TANTALUS: Why, father, what can make you turn away
From home, now you have seen it? Why refuse
To embrace such happiness? Here is your brother
Returned to you in reconciliation;
He gives you back your share of sovereignty,
Makes you yourself again, and reunites
The broken members of our family.
THYESTES: You ask me why, I cannot tell you why
I am afraid; I see no cause for fear,
But I am paralysed, my knees are weak,
My legs refuse to carry me; some force
Repels me from the way I try to go,
As when a ship labours with oar and sail
But oar and sail are powerless to resist
The driving of the current.
TANTALUS: Set aside
Those obstacles that hinder your intention,
And think what prizes wait on your return.
Father, you can be king.
THYESTES: As I can die.
TANTALUS: Power supreme –
THYESTES: Is nothing, when a man Wants nothing.
TANTALUS: You have sons to follow you.
THYESTES: One kingdom cannot have two kings at once.
TANTALUS: Choose misery when happiness is offered?
THYESTES: Take it from me, my son, great prizes tempt us
By their false aspects, and our fear of hardship
Is likewise a delusion. While I stood
Among the great, I stood in daily terror;
The very sword I wore at my own side
I feared. It is the height of happiness
To stand in no man’s way,1 to eat at ease
Reclining on the ground. At humble tables
Food can be eaten without fear; assassins
Will not be found in poor men’s cottages;
The poisoned drink is served in cups of gold.
I speak as one who knows, and make my choice
The life of hardship, not prosperity.
Mine is no lofty dwelling-place built high
Upon a mountain top to overawe
The common folk below; I have no ceilings
Lined with white ivory, I need no watch
Outside my door to guard me while I sleep.
I own no fishing fleet, no piers of mine
Intrude their massive blocks upon the sea.
My stomach is no glutton, to be filled
With every nation’s tribute; not for me
Are harvests reaped from fields in farthest east.
No man burns incense at a shrine for me;
I am no god with altars to my name
More richly served than those of Jupiter.
Roof-gardens of luxurious foliage
Are not for me; for me no steamy baths
Stoked by the labour of a hundred hands.
My day is not a time for sleep, my night
An endless vigil in the cause of Bacchus.2
But neither am I feared by any man;
My house is undefended, but secure.
Great is my peace, as my estate is small:
Kingdom unlimited, without a kingdom!
TANTALUS: You have no need to ask, nor to refuse,
A kingdom offered to you by a god.
