The Online Library of Liberty
A project of Liberty Fund, Inc.

• Home
  • Front Page
  • About Liberty Fund
  • Other LF Sites
• The Forum
  • About the Forum
  • Resources
  • Reading Lists
    • Sign Up
    • Log In
  • Search the Forum
  • Archive
• The Library
  • About the Library
  • Starting Points
  • Latest Additions
  • Authors (by Period)
  • Titles (by Subject)
  • Groups & Collections
  • Portable Library DVD
  • RSS
  • Advanced Search

B. Dekker’s reading list

• Back to Top

  1: Confucius, The Ethics of Confucius [1915]

  Confucius, The Ethics of Confucius. The Sayings of the Master and his Disciples upon the Conduct of “The Superior Man”, arranged according to the plan of Confucius with running commentary by Miles Menander Dawson, with a foreword by Wu Ting Fang (New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1915).

  Accessed from oll.libertyfund.org/title/2065 on 2008-03-09

  The text is in the public domain.

  ---

  

  CONFUCIUS

  From a drawing by Kiechu Yamada, Based upon an Ancient Copy of the Traditional Portrait

  Reproduced by the courtesy of Dr. Paul Carus

  To

  MISS JESSIE B. RITTENHOUSE,

  discriminating critic and unfailing friend,

  to whose appreciation

  the author’s perseverance in the arduous labor

  of collecting and collating the text for this book

  and preparing it for its readers is chiefly due,

  This Volume is Gratefully Inscribed.

  FOREWORD

  When Confucius died, it is recorded that his last words were regrets that none among the rulers then living possessed the sagacity requisite to a proper appreciation of his ethical philosophy and teachings. He died unhonoured,—died in his seventy-third year, 479 bc, feeling in the flickering beats of his failing heart that his inspiring pleas for truth and justice, industry and self-denial, moderation and public duty, though then without having awakened men’s impulses, would yet stir the depths of the social life of his land.

  Only the future will tell how far his staunch guide-ropes to correct conduct will be extended within China, and even be threaded through the dark and dangerous passages of existence in the lands of the Occident to lead humanity safely to that elevated plane which the lofty ideals of the philosopher aimed at establishing. Not yet has the world, sagacious as it is, appreciated the wealth of gentleness, the profound forces for good, the uplifting influences embodied in the teachings of the ancient sage, whose aim, reduced to its simplest definition, was to show “how to get through life like a courteous gentleman.”

  A great step forward in the dissemination of the doctrine in foreign lands is taken in “The Superior Man.” Lofty as appear the ideals, in the usual translations, they lose the effect on the average reader that the application which Mr. Dawson has now given them must create. Driving home the principles by careful compilation under different headings, the author causes the scheme of ethical conduct to attract and appeal; and the blessings it has bestowed in the vast expanses of China may yet give comfort to many people in many other lands.

  Confucius strove to make the human being good—a good father, a good mother, a good son, a good daughter, a good friend, a good citizen. Though his truths were unpalatable at the time of their enunciation, they have lived to bear good fruit, despite the desperate efforts of Emperor Tsin Shi-hwang to destroy them by fire, and it is gratifying to see that a still wider sphere is being more and more developed for them in the West.

  The movement that is now being energized in China to make the doctrine more familiar to the people, may also find reflection in foreign lands. “The Superior Man” will surely help the struggler in the mire of complexity to find his way out to the clean, substantial foothold of manliness and integrity.

  Shanghai, China,
  January 29, 1912.

  INTRODUCTION

  WORKS OF CONFUCIUS AND CHIEF FOLLOWERS

  The ethical and political precepts of Confucius are not well known in Occidental countries, even to most of those who give special attention to these subjects; and of what is known, much, indeed most, is confused with the notion that Confucius taught a religion in our sense of that term.

  Yet these ethical teachings, which are almost purely secular, have for more than 2000 years been accepted by a larger number of human beings than those of any other teacher. This, also, notwithstanding that the peoples who so receive Confucian morals as their guide are of the most various views concerning religion, i. e., for instance, are Buddhists, Mahometans, Taoists, Shintoists, etc. No other ethical system, whether of religious origin, or of secular, has ever been acceptable to persons professing religious convictions so diverse.

  And his political maxims have been regarded as fundamental, and knowledge of them, as well as of his ethics, has been insisted upon as a prime essential to political preferment, in a nation which, despite the not infrequent shifting of ruling dynasties, has the unparalleled record of continuing from prehistoric times to the present without a single break.

  In view of their obvious importance and of the availability of translations of the Chinese classics, the question naturally arises: Why the prevailing want of information concerning the works of Confucius, his disciples and followers?

  Though due in part, no doubt, to Confucianism not being a religion and so receiving but scant attention from students of comparative religions, to the relatively small interest of Occidentals, until very recently, in things Chinese, and to the comewhat expensive editions in which alone the best translation is available, the want of information concerning these teachings is, in my opinion, chiefly due to this: They are found in large volumes consisting of ancient Chinese classics which Confucius edited, of a collection of his sayings, of certain books by his disciples that purport to give his precepts accurately, in one book by his great apostle, Mencius,1 who more than a century later led the revival of Confucian ethics which has continued to this day, and in certain books by later followers; and these books consist, in varying proportions, ranging from a minimum of more than half to a maximum of at least nineteen-twentieths, of discourses upon ceremonies, customs, and the like, possibly of great interest to dwellers in China or Japan, but almost absolutely devoid of interest to most Occidentals.

  These ceremonies and customs, already firmly intrenched when Confucius was born, doubtless constitute a very rich and expressive language, crystallized into conduct; but it is one which is wholly unintelligible and even repellent to persons of Western origin.

  The only form, other than this, in which the ethical teachings of Confucius and his followers have been presented, is through books about these teachings, i. e., presenting, in the language of these modern authors, what they consider Confucius and his followers have taught.

  The aim in preparing this book is to put before Occidental readers, in the words of the Chinese sage and his followers, as translated, everything concerning ethics and statecraft contained in the Confucian classics which is likely to interest them, omitting nothing of importance. This has been undertaken in the following fashion:

  Every such passage has been extracted from all the works comprising the Confucian classics and several from the more important works of early Confucian scholars.

  These have been arranged by topics in accordance with a scheme laid down as that of Confucius himself in “The Great Learning.”

  The passages, so quoted, have been thrown into the order deemed most effective to demonstrate and illustrate the doctrine of Confucius.

  To sustain the interest unbroken, the passages quoted are connected by a running narrative, showing briefly the relationship of one with the other, stating from what book taken and by whom enunciated, and most sparingly accompanied by quotations from other moralists, ancient or modern.

  This book makes no claim to be an exhaustive study of the text, or of the commentaries on the text, of the Chinese sage; and much less to epitomize a critical investigation and collation of original texts. It accepts the generally received canon of the sayings and writings of Confucius as authentic, and deals exclusively with their significance as viewed scientifically in these days. Thus considered, the sayings of Confucius are seen to exhibit wonderful foresight and insight.

  Indeed, it is a continual marvel that, like Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle, Confucius should have come so near to laying down, formally, the lines which scientific investigation must pursue; and yet that, as generation after generation passed away, the attitude of many of the disciples of each of these should have become more and more that of blind and even superstitious imitation of the great teacher, and almost scrupulous avoidance of the application of his principles in the never-ending search for truth. This seems to have commenced with the immediate disciples of the sage, and by the time of Mencius it was already a species of idolatry, expressed in such sayings as this:

  “Since first there were living men until now, there has never been another Confucius.” (Bk. ii., pt. i., c. ii., v. 23.)

  “From the birth of mankind till now, there has never been another like our Master.” (Bk. ii., pt. i., c. ii., v. 27.)

  So also, among the Greeks and Romans, the very name, “philosopher,” i. e., “lover of wisdom,” which Socrates gave to himself as one who did not pretend to be wise already, but who merely sought wisdom earnestly, soon lost its true meaning, as veneration for Socrates, Plato, or Aristotle took the place of the child-like, simple, open-minded search for truth which they inculcated as the obvious duty of intelligent beings. In other words, the positive teaching of these great minds became in due time prescriptive authority in the view of their followers, while the essential factor in the thought of each of the great teachers, that the mind should be open—should, in the words of St. Paul, “try all things and hold fast that which is good”—gave way to a prohibition against questioning any declaration of the Master, and later against questioning any of the accepted derivations and corollaries of the authoritative sayings.

  It is to be remembered that Confucius never made claim to be inspired; to be sure, he said of himself, “If Heaven had wished to let this cause of truth perish, then I, a mortal yet to be born, should not have got such a relation to that cause,” but this was rather a declaration of the universality of divine providence than a claim of special inspiration.

  Later, however, the commentators virtually claimed it for him, i. e., that he was “divinely sent,” as in the Annotation of Kung-Yang quoting the Adjunct of the Spring and Autumn and also in the Adjunct of the Hsiâo King, in which Confucius is represented as reporting to Heaven the completion of his writings and as receiving divine approval in the form of a red rainbow arching down and becoming transformed into yellow jade with words carved upon it.

  This book is written to afford others opportunity for the same inspiring understanding of the true nature of the Confucian conception of good conduct as an encouragement of independent, clear thinking concerning the purposes of life and what may be done with it, which met so warm a welcome in my own mind when I first fortunately chanced upon a really good translation of the Analects of Confucius. What is here attempted is but an unworthy recognition of the great benefit, which, across twenty-five centuries, the Chinese sage conferred upon me.

  My thanks are due to various persons who have aided me with criticisms and suggestions; but very especially to Chen Huan Chang, Ph.D. (Columbia), Chin Shih of 1904 ad (i.e., winner of the prize in the highest competitive examination in China on the teachings of Confucius), formerly Secretary of the Grand Secretariat at Pekin, now President of the Confucian Society in China and leader of the successful movement there to restore public recognition of Confucian ethics and observances. Dr. Chen has looked up for me all doubtful interpretations of texts, advising me of the variant views and enabling me to choose among them. In general, and with almost no exceptions, the commonly accepted meaning is given.

  THE WORKS OF CONFUCIUS, HIS DISCIPLES, AND MOST IMPORTANT FOLLOWERS

  Including Ancient Books Edited by Him, Books of His Sayings, and Accounts of His Teachings by His Disciples and by Early Apostles and Commentators.

  Confucius was born in 552 bc and died in 479 bc His name was K‘ung Ch‘in Chung-ni, of which K‘ung was the family name, Ch‘in the personal (i.e., what we call Christian) name, and Chung-ni the special name given upon reaching full age. He was called K‘ung Fu Tse later, the appellation Fu Tse meaning “Master”; and this has been Latinized into Confucius.

  1. The actual authorship of but one book is ascribed to him, viz: Ch‘un Ch‘in, “Spring and Autumn” (English Edition, vol. v., “Chinese Classics”).

  This book is said to have been written by Confucius himself, in his seventy-second year, and to have been designed by him to serve as an epitome of his teachings upon all ethical, social, and religious subjects. At least, Mencius so speaks of it. The book, in a different form and known as “The Annals of Lu,” was in existence before Confucius, and his task seems, after all, to have been to edit and amplify it. The work as it has come down to us, however, undoubtedly unchanged since the Han dynasty, is a bare record of events, almost utterly devoid of instruction and even of interest.

  2. A collection of conversations with Confucius, containing many of his most important sayings, was made by his disciples after his death. It is known as:

  Lun Yü, “The Analects,” translated by James Legge, and published in “The Sacred Books of the East.”

  Several important books or collections of books, already ancient when Confucius was born and regarded as classics, were edited by Confucius and further edited by his early disciples. These are:

  3. Yi King, the “Book of Changes.”

  4. Hsiâo King, the “Book of Filial Piety.”

  5. Shu King, the “Book of History.”

  6. Shi King, the “Book of Poetry,” also called “The Odes.”

  7. Li Ki, the “Book of Ceremonies.”

  All of these were translated by James Legge and published in “The Sacred Books of the East.”

  The last mentioned is also often called “Younger Tai’s Record of Rites,” and it is affirmed that the “Li-Ching,” said to be an older and greatly variant edition, should be accepted instead. In this book or collection of books are comprised two of very special importance:

  8. “The Great Learning,” said to have been committed to writing by Tse-Tse, the grandson of Confucius, from his recollections of the teachings of his grandfather and from reports of the same by his father and other disciples of Confucius. His text is elucidated by commentaries in the “Li Ki.” This book has also come down separately.

  9. “The Doctrine of the Mean,” also the work of disciples of Confucius and their early successors. This has also come down separately.

  There is also the very valuable volume of the sayings of Meng Tse, the great apostle of Confucianism in the second century later—whose name is Latinized into:

  10. Mencius.

  This Book of Mencius was also translated by James Legge and is published in “The Sacred Books of the East.”

  “The Four Books,” meaning thereby the elements and very core of Confucian doctrine, is the name given to “The Analects,” “The Great Learning,” “The Doctrine of the Mean,” and “Mencius.”

  “The Five Classics” or “The Five Canons” is the name applied to the “Yi King,” “Hsiâo King,” “Shu King,” “Shi King,” and “Li Ki” (or “Li-Ching”), collectively. The word “King” means “classic” or “canon.”

  Other works of Confucian commentators and scholars which are occasionally quoted from, are:

  11. Shuo Yüan (“Park of Narratives”).

  12. Hsun Tze.

  13. Ku-liang Chuan (“Ku-liang’s Commentary”).

  14. “Many Dewdrops of the Spring and Autumn.”

  15. Pan-Ku.

  16. “History of Han Dynasty.”

  17. “History of Latter Han Dynasty.”

  18. “Narratives of Nations.”

  19. Kung-Yang Chuan (“Kung-Yang’s Commentary”).

  The citations of this book are for the most part given by the name of the work, the name or number of the chapter and other grand division of the work and the verse, to the end that any edition in Chinese or any translation into English or into another language may be conveniently referred to.

  M. M. D.

  CONFUCIUS

  K‘ung Fu-tsze, “the philosopher K‘ung,” whose name has been Latinized into Confucius, was born in the year 550 (or 551) bc His father, Shuh-liang Heih was an officer in charge of the district of Tsow in the State of Lu and had been famous for his strength and daring; he was of the K‘ung family and lineally descended from Hwang-Ti, an almost legendary character of ancient China.

  At the age of seventy, Shuh-liang Heih, the father of ten children of whom but one was a son and he a cripple, sought a wife in the Yen family where there were three daughters. The two elder of them demurred when apprised by their father of the old man’s suit; but the youngest, Ching-tsai, only seventeen years of age, offered to abide by her father’s judgment. The following year Confucius was born and three years later she was a widow.

  Confucius was married, in accordance with Chinese custom, at nineteen and accepted public employment as a keeper of stores and later as superintendent of parks and herds. At twenty-two, however, he commenced his life-work as a teacher, and gradually a group of students, eager to be instructed in the classics and in conduct and government, gathered about him.

  He was a contemporary of Lao-tsze, the founder of Taoism, who, however, was of the next previous generation. Confucius is said to have had several interviews with him about 517 bc

  Up to the age of fifty-two, he was not much in public life. He was then made chief magistrate of the city of Chung-tu, which so thrived and improved under his care, that the Duke of Lu appointed him minister of crime which resulted in a great reduction of wrongdoing. The Duke accepting a present of female musicians and giving himself over to dissipation, Confucius withdrew and wandered among the various states, giving instruction as opportunity offered.

  His disciples during his lifetime rose to three thousand and of these some seventy or eighty were highly esteemed by him.

  Confucius when he set forth on his wanderings was fifty-six; it was thirteen years before he returned to Lu.

  In 482 bc, he lost his only son; in 481 bc, his favourite student, Yen Hwuy, and in 478 bc Tsze-lu, another of his favourites, passed away, and the same year Confucius himself died at the age of seventy-two.

  He was buried in the K‘ung cemetery outside the gates of K‘iuh-fow, where most of his descendants, said to number more than forty thousand, still live. His tomb is yet preserved and is annually visited by vast numbers of his followers.

  The Ethics of Confucius

  CHAPTER I

  WHAT CONSTITUTES THE SUPERIOR MAN

  The central idea of Confucius is that every normal human being cherishes the aspiration to become a superior man—superior to his fellows, if possible, but surely superior to his own past and present self. This does not more than hint at perfection as a goal; and it is said of him that one of the subjects concerning which the Master rarely spoke, was “perfect virtue.” (Analects, bk. ix., c. i.) He also said, “They who know virtue, are few” (Analects, bk. xv., c. iii.), and was far from teaching a perfectionist doctrine. It refers rather to the perpetually relative, the condition of being superior to that to which one may be superior, be it high or low,—that hopeful possibility which has ever lured mankind toward higher things.

  This accords well with the ameliorating and progressive principle of evolution which in these days offers a substantial reward, both for a man and for his progeny, if he will but cultivate higher and more useful traits and qualities. The aim to excel, if respected of all, approved and accepted by common consent, would appeal to every child and, logically presented to its mind and enforced by universal recognition of its validity, would become a conviction and a scheme for the art of living, of transforming power and compelling vigour.

  In various sayings Confucius, his disciples, and Mencius present the attributes of the superior man, whom the sage adjures his disciples to admire without ceasing, to emulate without turning, and to imitate without let or hindrance. These are some of them:

  Purpose: “The superior man learns in order to attain to the utmost of his principles.” (Analects, bk. xix., c. vii.)

  Poise: “The superior man in his thought does not go out of his place.” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xxviii.)

  Self-sufficiency: “What the superior man seeks, is in himself; what the ordinary1 man seeks, is in others.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xx.)

  Earnestness: “The superior man in everything puts forth his utmost endeavours.” (Great Learning, ii., 4.)

  Thoroughness: “The superior man bends his attention to what is radical. That being established, all practical courses naturally grow up.” (Analects, bk. i., c. ii., v. 2.)

  Sincerity: “The superior man must make his thoughts sincere.” (Great Learning, vi., 4.) “Is it not his absolute sincerity which distinguishes a superior man?” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xiii., 4.)

  Truthfulness: “What the superior man requires is that in what he says there may be nothing inaccurate.” (Analects, bk. xiii., c. iii., v. 7.)

  Purity of thought and action: “The superior man must be watchful over himself when alone.” (Great Learning, vi., 2.)

  Love of truth: “The object of the superior man is truth.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xxxi.) “The superior man is anxious lest he should not get truth; he is not anxious lest poverty come upon him.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xxxi.)

  Mental hospitality: “The superior man is catholic and not partisan; the ordinary man is partisan and not catholic.” (Analects, bk. ii., c. xiv.) “The superior man in the world does not set his mind either for anything or against anything; what is right, he will follow.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. x.)

  Rectitude: “The superior man thinks of virtue; the ordinary man thinks of comfort.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. xi.) “The mind of the superior man is conversant with righteousness; the mind of the ordinary man is conversant with gain.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. xxi.) “The superior man in all things considers righteousness essential.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xvii.)

  Prudence: “The superior man wishes to be slow in his words and earnest in his conduct.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. xxiv.)

  Composure: “The superior man is satisfied and composed; the ordinary man is always full of distress.” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xxxvi.) “The superior man may indeed have to endure want; but the ordinary man, when he is in want, gives way to unbridled license.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. i., v. 3.)

  Fearlessness: “The superior man has neither anxiety nor fear.” (Analects, bk. xii., c. iv., v. 1.) “When internal examination discovers nothing wrong, what is there to be anxious about, what is there to fear?” (Analects, bk. xi., c. iv., v. 3.) “They sought to act virtuously and they did so; and what was there for them to repine about?” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xiv., v. 2.)

  Ease and dignity: “The superior man has dignified ease without pride; the ordinary man has pride without dignified ease.” (Analects, bk. xiii., c. xxvi.) “The superior man is dignified and does not wrangle.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xxi.)

  Firmness: “Refusing to surrender their wills or to submit to any taint to their persons.” (Analects, bk. xviii., c. viii., v. 2.) “The superior man is correctly firm and not merely firm.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xxxvi.) “Looked at from a distance, he appears stern; when approached, he is mild; when he is heard to speak, his language is firm and decided.” (Analects, bk. xix., c. ix.)

  Lowliness: “The superior man is affable but not adulatory; the ordinary man is adulatory but not affable.” (Analects, bk. xiii., c. xxiii.)

  Avoidance of sycophancy: “I have heard that the superior man helps the distressed, but he does not add to the wealth of the rich.” (Analects, bk. vi., c. iii., v. 2.)

  Growth: “The progress of the superior man is upward, the progress of the ordinary man is downward.” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xxiv.) “The superior man is distressed by his want of ability; he is not distressed by men’s not knowing him.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xviii.)

  Capacity: “The superior man cannot be known in little matters but may be entrusted with great concerns.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xxxiii.)

  Openness: “The faults of the superior man are like the sun and moon. He has his faults and all men see them. He changes again and all men look up to him.” (Analects, bk. xix., c. xxi.)

  Benevolence: “The superior man seeks to develop the admirable qualities of men and does not seek to develop their evil qualities. The ordinary man does the opposite of this.” (Analects, bk. xii., c. xvi.)

  Broadmindedness: “The superior man honours talent and virtue and bears with all. He praises the good and pities the incompetent.” (Analects, bk. xix., c. iii.) “The superior man does not promote a man on account of his words, nor does he put aside good words on account of the man.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xxii.)

  Charity: “To be able to judge others by what is in ourselves, this may be called the art of virtue.” (Analects, bk. vi., c. xxviii., v. 3.)

  Moderation: “The superior man conforms with the path of the mean.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xi., v. 3.)

  The Golden Rule: “When one cultivates to the utmost the capabilities of his nature and exercises them on the principle of reciprocity, he is not far from the path. What you do not want done to yourself, do not do unto others.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xiii., v. 3.)

  Reserve power: “That wherein the superior man cannot be equalled is simply this, his work which other men cannot see.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xxxiii., v. 2.)

  The Art of Living. “The practice of right-living is deemed the highest, the practice of any other art lower. Complete virtue takes first place; the doing of anything else whatsoever is subordinate.” (Li Ki, bk. xvii., sect. iii., 5.)

  These words from the “Li Ki” are the keynote of the sage’s teachings.

  Confucius sets before every man, as what he should strive for, his own improvement, the development of himself,—a task without surcease, until he shall “abide in the highest excellence.” This goal, albeit unattainable in the absolute, he must ever have before his vision, determined above all things to attain it, relatively, every moment of his life—that is, to “abide in the highest excellence” of which he is at the moment capable. So he says in “The Great Learning”: “What one should abide in being known, what should be aimed at is determined; upon this decision, unperturbed resolve is attained; to this succeeds tranquil poise; this affords opportunity for deliberate care; through such deliberation the goal is achieved.” (Text, v. 2.)

  This speaks throughout of self-development, of that renunciation of worldly lusts which inspired the cry: “For what shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul?”; but this is not left doubtful—for again in “The Great Learning” he says: “From the highest to the lowest, self-development must be deemed the root of all, by every man. When the root is neglected, it cannot be that what springs from it will be well-ordered.” (Text, v. 6, 7.)

  Confucius taught that to pursue the art of life was possible for every man, all being of like passions and in more things like than different. He says: “By nature men are nearly alike; by practice, they get to be wide apart.” (Analects, bk. xvii., c. ii.)

  Mencius put forward this idea continually, never more succinctly and aptly than in this: “All things are already complete in us.” (Bk. vii., pt. i., c. iv., 1.)

  Mencius also announced that the advance of every man is independent of the power of others, as follows: “To advance a man or to stop his advance is beyond the power of other men.” (Bk. i., pt. ii., c. xvi., 3.)

  It has already in these pages been quoted from the “Analects” that “the superior man learns in order to attain to the utmost of his principles.”

  In the same book is reported this colloquy: “Tsze-loo asked ‘What constitutes the superior man?’ The Master said, ‘The cultivation of himself with reverential care’ ” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xlv.); and in the “Doctrine of the Mean,” “When one cultivates to the utmost the capabilities of his nature and exercises them on the principle of reciprocity, he is not far from the path.” (C. xiii., 3.).

  In “The Great Learning,” Confucius revealed the process, step by step, by which self-development is attained and by which it flows over into the common life to serve the state and to bless mankind.

  “The ancients,” he said, “when they wished to exemplify illustrious virtue throughout the empire, first ordered well their states. Desiring to order well their states, they first regulated their families. Wishing to regulate their families, they first cultivated themselves. Wishing to cultivate themselves, they first rectified their purposes. Wishing to rectify their purposes, they first sought to think sincerely. Wishing to think sincerely, they first extended their knowledge as widely as possible. This they did by investigation of things.

  “By investigation of things, their knowledge became extensive; their knowledge being extensive, their thoughts became sincere; their thoughts being sincere, their purposes were rectified; their purposes being rectified, they cultivated themselves; they being cultivated, their families were regulated; their families being regulated, their states were rightly governed; their states being rightly governed, the empire was thereby tranquil and prosperous.” (Text, 4, 5.)

  Lest there be misunderstanding, it should be said that mere wealth is not to be considered the prosperity of which he speaks, but rather plenty and right-living. For there is the saying: “In a state, gain is not to be considered prosperity, but prosperity is found in righteousness.” (Great Learning, x., 23.) The distribution of wealth into mere livelihoods among the people is urged by Confucius as an essential to good government, for it is said in “The Great Learning”: “The concentration of wealth is the way to disperse the people, distributing it among them is the way to collect the people.” (X., 9.)

  The order of development, therefore, Confucius set forth as follows:

  Investigation of phenomena.

  Learning.

  Sincerity.

  Rectitude of purpose.

  Self-development.

  Family discipline.

  Local self-government.

  Universal self-government.

  The rules of conduct, mental, spiritual, in one’s inner life, in the family, in the state, and in society at large, which will lead to this self-development and beyond it, Confucius conceived to be of universal application, for it is said in the “Doctrine of the Mean” (c. xxviii., v. 3): “Now throughout the empire carriages all have wheels with the same tread, all writing is with the same characters, and for conduct there are the same rules.”

  How this may be, is set forth in the same book (c. xii., v. 1, 2): “The path which the superior man follows extends far and wide, and yet is secret. Ordinary men and women, however ignorant, may meddle with the knowledge of it; yet, in its utmost reaches, there is that which even the sage does not discern. Ordinary men and women, however below the average standard of ability, can carry it into practice; yet, in its utmost reaches, there is that which even the sage is not able to carry into practice.”

  It is, indeed, a true art of living which is thus presented, a scheme of adaptation of means to ends, of causes to produce their appropriate consequences, with clear and noble purposes in view, both as regards one’s own development and man’s, both as regards one’s own weal and the common weal.

  For the completion of its work, it requires, also, the whole of life, every deflection from virtue marring by so much the perfection of the whole. Its saintliness lies not in purity alone, but in the rounded fulness of the well-planned and well-spent life, the more a thing of beauty if extended to extreme old age. Confucius thus modestly hints how slowly it develops at best, when he says: “At fifteen I had my mind bent on learning. At thirty I stood firm. At forty I was free from doubt. At fifty I knew the decrees of Heaven. At sixty my ear was an obedient organ for the reception of truth. At seventy I could follow what my heart desired without transgressing what was right.” (Analects, bk. ii., c. iv.)

  That it is not finished until death rings down the curtain upon the last act, is shown in the “Analects” by this aphorism attributed to his disciple, Tsang: “The scholar may not be without breadth of mind and vigorous endurance. His burden is heavy and his course is long. Perfect virtue is the burden which he considers it his to sustain; is it not heavy? Only with death does his course stop; is it not long?” (Analects, bk. viii., c. vii.)

  Mental Morality. “When you know a thing, to hold that you know it, and when you do not know a thing, to acknowledge that you do not know it—this is knowledge.” (Analects, bk. ii., c. xvii.)

  In these words Confucius set forth more lucidly than any other thinker, ancient or modern, the essential of all morality, mental honesty, integrity of the mind—the only attitude which does not close the door to truth.

  The same thing is put forward in a different way in the “Li Ki,” thus: “Do not positively affirm when you have doubts; and when you have not, do not put forth what you say, as merely your view.” (Bk. i., sect. i., pt. i., c. iii., 5.)

  The Chinese sage had no delusions about the real nature of the art of living, the rules of human conduct; he knew and understood that ethics are of the mind, that sticks and stones are neither moral nor immoral but merely unmoral, and that the possibilities of good and evil choices come only when the intelligence dawns which alone can choose between them.

  Mencius considerably extended this view, starting from the position: “If men do what is not good, the blame cannot be imputed to their natural powers.” (Bk. xi., pt. i., c. vi., v. 6.)

  Not that he did not recognize the perils of unrestrained animal passions, ministered to, instead of guided and controlled by, a human mind which accordingly becomes their slave instead of master; for he says: “That whereby man differs from the lower animals is little. Most people throw it away, the superior man preserves it.” (Bk. iv., pt. ii., c. xix., v. 1.)

  And again he refers to this inexcusable reversal of the natural order, thus: “When a man’s finger is deformed, he knows enough to be dissatisfied; but if his mind be deformed, he does not know that he should be dissatisfied. This is called: ‘Ignorance of the relative importance of things.’ ” (Bk. vi., pt. i., c. xii., v. 2.)

  The “Li Ki” says of this, more explicitly: “It belongs to the nature of man, as from Heaven, to be still at his birth. His activity shows itself as he is acted on by external things, and develops the desires incident to his nature. Things come to him more and more, and his knowledge is increased. Then arise the manifestations of liking and disliking. When these are not regulated by anything within, and growing knowledge leads more astray without, he cannot come back to himself, and his Heavenly principle is extinguished.

  “Now there is no end of the things by which man is affected; and when his likings and dislikings are not subject to regulation (from within), he is changed into the nature of things as they come before him; that is, he stifles the voice of Heavenly principle within, and gives the utmost indulgence to the desires by which men may be possessed. On this we have the rebellious and deceitful heart, with licentious and violent disorder.” (Bk. xvii., sect. i., v. 11, 12.)

  Therefore, with acumen and discernment never excelled, Confucius divined that the mind must first be honest with itself. This indicates the essential immorality of the mind which clings to that which it does not know, with fervency and loyalty more devoted than that with which it holds to that which it does know. That one should not be swayed by what he prefers to believe, is again asserted in these words of the “Shu-King,” ascribed to I Yin (pt. iv., bk. v., sect. iii., v. 2.):

  “When you hear words that are distasteful to your mind, you must inquire whether they be not right; when you hear words that accord with your own views, you must inquire whether they be not contrary to right.”

  It is consonant with the spirit and teaching of Confucius that the philosopher Ch‘ing should have said of the “Doctrine of the Mean”: “This work contains the law of the mind which was handed down from one to another”; and that Confucius himself has said: “In the Book of Poetry are three hundred pieces, but the design of them all may be embraced in one sentence: ‘Have no depraved thoughts.’ ” (Analects, bk. ii., c. ii.)

  It was thus that Confucius conceived the art of living, as a thing thought out, a response purposive, instead of automatic, to every impulse from without. He says of himself, meaning thereby to instruct his disciples and inspire them to emulation: “I have no course for which I am predetermined and no course against which I am predetermined.” (Analects, bk. xviii., c. viii., v. 5.)

  And, as already quoted, these are among his most striking attributes of the superior man: “The superior man is catholic and not partisan; the ordinary man is partisan and not catholic.” (Analects, bk. ii., c. xiv.) “The superior man in the world does not set his mind either for anything or against anything; what is right, he will follow.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. x.) “The superior man is anxious lest he should not get truth; he is not anxious lest poverty should come upon him.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xxxi.)

  In yet more glowing and enthusiastic terms he sang the praises of the open mind, its need, its utility, its essential beauty and sure promise, saying: “They who know the truth are not equal to them that love it, and they who love it are not equal to them that find pleasure in it.” (Analects, bk. vi., c. xviii.)

  Socrates said something akin to this when he rebuked the “sophists,” i. e., the “wise,” and modestly called himself “philosophos,” i. e., only a lover of wisdom and one who devoutly wishes to learn.

  Confucius sets before his disciples the apprehension and ascertainment of the bald truth concerning the phenomena of nature, as the thing first to be desired; for he says: “The object of the superior man is truth.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xxxi.)

  Of himself, his disciples present this portrayal: “There were four things from which the Master was entirely free: He had no foregone conclusions, no arbitrary predeterminations, no obstinacy, and no egoism.” (Analects, bk. ix., c. iv.)

  The Investigation of Phenomena. “Wishing to think sincerely, they first extended their knowledge. This they did by investigation of things. By investigation of things, their knowledge became extensive. Their knowledge being extensive, their thoughts became sincere.”

  These words from “The Great Learning” (Text, v. 4, 5) are meant to show how the mind, holding itself in resolution, its conclusions ready to take whatever form the compelling logic of the ascertained facts may require, must, as an essential prerequisite of a normal and well-rounded life, investigate the phenomena which are around it. These are its world, with which it must cope, and which, in order that it may cope therewith, it must also understand. Confucius says: “To this attainment”—i. e., perfect sincerity—“there are requisite extensive study of what is good, accurate inquiry into it, careful consideration of it, clear distinguishing about it, and earnest practical application of it.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xx., v. 19.)

  That there must be this ardent spirit of inquiry, this insatiable thirst after knowledge, or the man is lost, is indicated by Confucius in many sayings. One of the aptest of these is: “When a man says not, ‘What shall I think of this? What shall I think of this?’, I can indeed do nothing with him.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xv.)

  On another occasion he announced: “I do not reveal the truth to one who is not eager to get knowledge, nor assist any one who is not himself anxious to explain.” (Analects, bk. vii., c. viii.)

  The apprehension that effect follows cause, was rightly regarded by him the first office of the human mind and the primary moral act of an intelligent being. This was made the foundation of “The Great Learning” (Text, v. 3): “Things have their root and their fruition. Affairs have their end and their beginning. To know what goes first and what comes after, is near to what is taught in the Great Learning.”

  As the followers of Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle soon lost the real point of view of the great lover of wisdom, by reason of their devotion to what they understood to be the positive teaching of himself and his disciples, and built up a system of prescriptive and authoritative learning which in fact stifled original investigation of phenomena, while encouraging mere speculation and dialectics, so in like manner the investigation of phenomena, enjoined by Confucius, soon degenerated into scholasticism, and the mere conning and memorizing of texts. The neglect of the true significance of his injunction was so complete that, though apparently no other sentences are missing, the chapter of “The Great Learning” in which was given the early author’s version of what is meant by “investigation of things” is lost. Only these words are still extant: “This is called knowing the root. This is called the perfecting of knowledge.”

  Views, ascribed to the commentator Ch‘ing, are usually supplied to fill this hiatus. They are here quoted to show how the true function of investigation, which is not the duty merely of the young and untutored mind but yet more the duty of the trained and experienced, was distorted into something altogether contrary, by passing through the intellect of the adoring scholiast: “The meaning of the expression, ‘The perfecting of knowledge depends upon the investigation of things’ is this: If we wish to carry our knowledge to the utmost, we must investigate the principles of all things we come into contact with; for the intelligent mind of man is certainly formed to know and there is not a single thing of which its principles are not a part. But so long as all principles are not investigated, man’s knowledge is incomplete. On this account, the ‘Learning for Adults,’ in its opening chapters, instructs the learner in regard to all things in the world, to proceed from what knowledge he has of their principles and pursue his investigations of them until he reaches the extreme point. After exerting himself in this way for a long time, he will suddenly find himself possessed of a wide and farreaching penetration. Then the qualities of all things, whether external or internal, subtle or coarse, will be apprehended and the mind, in its whole substance and its relations to things, will be perfectly intelligent. This is called the investigation of things, this is called the perfection of knowledge.”

  But, while it may have been, and indeed was, called “the investigation of things,” by Ch‘ing and by many of the scholiasts since his day, it is obviously far from that enduring open-mindedness and spirit of impartial inquiry which Confucius held to be the first essential to the art of living. The words of Confucius, therefore, have clearer and higher significance in this scientific age than in all the centuries during which Asiatic students have memorized them in the schools.

  That Confucius meant no such blind following of authority is clear from this saying: “Hwuy gives me no assistance. There is nothing that I say, in which he does not delight.” (Analects, bk. xi., c. iii.)

  Investigation and the spirit of free investigation, in order that knowledge may ever be subjected to repeated tests, are “the root,” according to the reasoning of Confucius, from which the conduct of life must proceed. Therefore and referring thereto, the philosopher Yew is quoted as saying: “The superior man bends his attention to what is radical. That being established, all practical courses naturally grow up.” (Analects, bk. i., c. ii., v. 2.)

  This is set forth at length in yet more enthusiastic language: “When we minutely investigate the nature and reasons of things till we have entered into the inscrutable and spiritual in them, we attain to the largest practical application of them; when that application becomes quickest and readiest and personal poise is secured, our virtue is thereby exalted. Proceeding beyond this, we reach a point which it is hardly possible to comprehend; we have thoroughly mastered the inscrutable and spiritual and understand the processes of transformation. This is the fulness of virtue.” (Yi King, appendix iii., sect. ii., v. 33, 34.)

  Learning. “Learning without thought is labour lost; thought without learning is perilous.” (Analects, bk. ii., c. xv.)

  The emphasis is put upon thinking in this statement of the Duke of Kau, quoted in the “Shu King,” by Confucius with approval: “The wise, through not thinking, become foolish; and the foolish, by thinking, become wise.” (Pt. v., bk. xviii., 2.)

  To the idea expressed in these astute words thus adopted by Confucius, he has added a personal application elsewhere, emphasizing the emptiness of mere speculation: “I have been the whole day without eating and the whole night without sleeping, occupied with thinking. It was of no avail. The better plan is to learn.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xxx.)

  The idleness of thought, desire, and conduct proceeding upon insufficient data is set forth by the sage in great detail, in the following: “There is the love of being benevolent without the love of learning;—the beclouding here leads to a foolish simplicity. There is the love of knowing without the love of learning;—the beclouding here leads to dissipation of mind. There is the love of being sincere without the love of learning;—the beclouding here leads to an injurious disregard of consequences. There is the love of straightforwardness without the love of learning;—the beclouding here leads to rudeness. There is the love of boldness without the love of learning;—the beclouding here leads to insubordination. There is the love of firmness without the love of learning;—the beclouding here leads to extravagant conduct.” (Analeets, bk. xvii., c. viii., v. 3.)

  Therefore the necessity for patient, unremitting study, not merely of books but of men, animals, and things, of the phenomena of animate and inanimate nature, is urged by the great teacher again and again: “Learn as if you might not attain your object and were always fearing lest you miss it.” (Analects, bk. viii., c. xvii.) “Is it not pleasant to learn with constant perseverance and application?” (Analects, bk. i., c. i., v. 1.)

  In this regard, he leaves this picture of himself, in words which he spoke to one of his disciples: “The Duke of She asked Tsze-loo about Confucius and Tsze-loo did not answer him. The Master said, ‘Why did you not say to him: He is simply a man who in his eager pursuit of knowledge forgets his food, who in the joy of attaining it forgets his sorrows, and who does not perceive that old age is coming on?’ ” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xviii.)

  And this is also declared to be an essential characteristic of the superior man: “The superior man learns and accumulates the results of his learning; puts questions and discriminates among those results; dwells magnanimously and unambitiously in what he has attained to; and carries it into practice with benevolence.” (Yi King, appendix iv., c. vi., v. 31.)

  That one must be modest as to his ability and acquirements, in order to learn, was as obvious to the mind of Confucius, as to that of Socrates. These words of Yueh in the “Shu King” are illustrative of this: “In learning there should be a humble mind and the maintenance of constant earnestness.” (Pt. iv., bk. viii., sec. iii., 1.)

  And these are the words of Tsang, referring to his friend, Yen Yuan: “Gifted with ability and yet putting questions to those who were not so; possessed of much and yet putting questions to those possessed of little; having, as though he had not; full, and yet counting himself as empty; offended against, and yet entering into no altercation.” (Analects, bk. viii., c. v.)

  Though the mentor of princes, Confucius did not himself depart from such modesty in giving instruction, even as he adjured his disciples to observe it always in receiving t; for he gives this testimony concerning his course: “From the man bringing his bundle of dried flesh upwards, I have never refused instruction to any one.” (Analects, bk. vii., c. vii.)

  There comes before the mind of the modern student of Confucius, therefore, the same picture of humble companionship with the lowly as with the great, which the sojourn of Jesus, of Socrates, or of Epictetus among men also conjures forth. That such would be the universal consequence, were there universal instruction, i. e., that learning is essentially democratic and not a respecter of rank, riches, or even of persons, he affirms in this sentence: “There being instruction, there will be no distinction of classes” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xxxviii.), which declaration, accepted and followed, has preserved China from that stifling death into which the caste system of India has forced its unhappy people.

  Yet by no means unto all, the scoffer as well as the earnest student, the dull as well as the discerning, did Confucius consider that all knowledge should be imparted; instead he said: “To those whose talents are above mediocrity, the highest subjects may be announced. To those who are below mediocrity, the highest subjects may not be announced.” (Analects, bk. vi., c. xix.)

  The course which he who would learn must follow is given by Tsze-hea in these words: “He who from day to day recognizes what he has not yet attained to, and from month to month remembers what he has attained to, may be said to love to learn.” (Analects, bk. xix., c. v.)

  And that thoroughness and completion of all tasks are absolutely requisite, in these: “The prosecution of learning may be compared with what may happen in raising a mound. If there lack but one basket of earth to complete the work, and I there cease, the cessation is my own act.” (Analects, bk. ix., c. xviii.)

  That gravity and earnestness are requisite, he thus affirms: “If the scholar be not grave, he will not call forth any veneration, and his learning will not be solid.” (Analects, bk. i., c. viii., v. 1.)

  The reward of learning he declares to be: “It is not easy to find a man who has learned for three years, without coming to be virtuous.” (Analects, bk. viii., c. xii.)

  If observation in these twentieth-century days does not confirm this, is it not because of this, that investigation and study are but too often undertaken only in support of propositions to which the students are already committed, or, to put it otherwise, that such are rather the labours of the special advocate to establish his cause than of the impartial seeker after truth? And, if so, how could the result be as Confucius said? Moreover, in which of our schools are the rules of mental ethics, of correct study and thought, imparted? Is not the fault rather that education is not what it should be, than that there is education?

  One of the disciples of Confucius testified concerning his instruction, “He enlarged my mind with learning and taught me the restraints of propriety” (Analects, bk. ix., c. x., v. 2), by which is meant the rules of conduct, mental and within one’s self, as well as mental though outwardly expressed. Another disciple said: “There are learning extensively and having a firm and sincere aim, inquiring with earnestness, and reflecting with self-application; virtue is in such a course.” (Analects, bk. xix., c. vi.)

  Confucius himself remarked: “By extensively studying all learning and keeping himself under the restraint of the rules of propriety, one may thus likewise not err from what is right.” (Analects, bk. xii., c. xv.)

  And in the “Li Ki” this is found: “To acquire extensive information and remember retentively while yet modest; to do earnestly what is good and not become weary in so doing—these are characteristics of him whom we call the superior man.” (Bk. i., sect. i., pt. iv., v. 27.)

  By emphasizing that learning should be extensive, he did not mean to advise serious study of every idle speculation which the invention and ingenuity of human intellects can produce. Instead, the course which he marked out is that of close and careful observation of facts and painstaking, cautious reasoning about them. Of the perils of the other, he says: “The study of strange doctrines is injurious indeed.” (Analects, bk. ii., c. xvi.)

  Notwithstanding this, he did not subordinate, and much less did he eliminate the need for, attention to the broad conception of the universe, while keeping one’s eye upon the particle of dead matter or the infinitesimal forms of life. That the laws which operate in the phenomena of nature are the very laws of God, was ever present in his mind, and that narrow views of these phenomena, as if they were unrelated and independent, are not and cannot be true knowledge. Therefore is it, as he said, that “in order to know men,” one “may not dispense with a knowledge of Heaven.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xx., v. 7.)

  That everything cognizable is the field of learning is suggested in the words: “Accordingly, the sage, looking up, contemplates the brilliant phenomena of the heavens and, looking down, examines the definite arrangements of the earth; thus he knows the causes of darkness and of light. He traces things to their beginning and follows them to their end; thus he knows what can be said about death and life.” (Yi King, appendix iii., c. iv., v. 21.)

  The great utility to him who would round out his own life by knowledge of the achievements of ancient worthies was enforced as follows: “The scholar lives and associates with men of his own time; but the men of antiquity are the subjects of his study.” (Li Ki, bk. xxxviii., v. 11.)

  The great, the all-important place of learning, so defined as a moving force in the scheme of life, and, within the measure of his capacity, its claim upon every human being, he thus affirmed: “Knowledge, magnanimity, and energy, these three are the virtues which are universally binding.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xx., v. 8.)

  The union of a sublime trust and an earnest struggle to learn is thus praised by the sage himself: “With sincere trust he unites the love of learning; holding firm unto death, he is perfecting the excellence of his course.” (Analects, bk. viii., c. xiii., v. 1.)

  Genius and Inspiration. It is characteristic of Confucius that, where he did not know, he did not affirm. His saying, “When you do not know a thing, to acknowledge that you do not know it, is knowledge” (Analects, bk. ii., c. xvii.), is far from being: “If you do not know a thing, affirm that it is not true.”

  Therefore, especially since, as all candid souls must ever have been, he was impressed with the marvellous insight which the minds of some of earth’s children had shown, he was not a doctrinaire concerning the possibility of quicker, surer, and deeper discernment of facts and truths than that of which ordinary human beings are capable. Accordingly he says of this: “Those who are born in the possession of knowledge, are the highest class of men. Those who learn and so acquire knowledge, are next. The dull and stupid who yet achieve knowledge, are a class next to these. Those who are dull and stupid and yet do not learn, are the lowest of the people.” (Analects, bk. xvi., c. ix.)

  Though he is now reverenced by millions in the Asiatic world as the greatest mind that has been incarnate among them, Confucius makes no claim to such inspiration and internal perception of knowledge without external observation, for himself; instead, he says: “I am not one who was born in the possession of knowledge; I am one who is fond of antiquity and earnest in seeking it there.” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xix.)

  In view of the fact that others were not able in his day to find what he set forth, in the archives of mankind or even in the contemplation of nature, and the further undeniable fact of his wonderful penetration and clarity, it may be questioned whether, in addition to his tireless industry, there was not present also the full measure of illumination from without and, let us reverently say, from above, which has attended others of the world’s great moral teachers and leaders in all time.

  That it was not all pure grind—nay, more, that it should never be all pure grind—but, instead, the organic absorption of knowledge into himself and as inherent parts of himself, blending into a harmonious, developed whole, these words indicate: “The Master asked, ‘Tsze, you think, I suppose, that I am one who learns many things and keeps them in his memory?’ Tsze-kung replied, ‘Yes, but perhaps it is not so?’ ‘No,’ was the answer, ‘I seek unity, all pervading.’ ” (Analects, bk. xv., c. ii.)

  That there might not be foolish reliance upon internal light as a means of escaping the onerous labour of learning, he spoke this parable: “The mechanic who wishes to do his work well must first sharpen his tools.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. ix.)

  Preparation for the practice of the art of living, he taught, is necessary unto all men, saying: “Let every man consider virtue as what devolves upon himself; he may not yield the performance of it even to his teacher.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xxxv.) And also that perfection is a plant of slow growth, matured only by steady progress in development, in this saying as in many others: “I saw his constant advance. I never saw him halt in his progress.” (Analects, bk. ix., c. xx.)

  Sincerity. “Their knowledge being extensive, their thoughts became sincere.”

  The foregoing from “The Great Learning” (Text, v. 5) is challenged more frequently, perhaps, than any other of its propositions; for the mind immediately recurs to the remembrance of many Machiavellian characters who were well-informed, even erudite, and yet insincere. And, although Confucius here speaks of sincerity within a man’s self and toward himself, as counter-distinguished from sincere speech and action, yet, notwithstanding that one cannot read the inmost thoughts and purposes of another, few there are who have pondered deeply and observed widely and closely, that do not know that sincerity of thought must itself be cultivated or at least be preserved.

  Confucius had no mind to say otherwise for he puts it thus in “The Great Learning” at the very outset: “Wishing to think sincerely, they first extended their knowledge as widely as possible. This they did by the investigation of things”; and he himself says, elsewhere: “Leaving virtue without proper cultivation; not thoroughly discussing what is learned; not being able to move toward righteousness of which knowledge has been gained; and not being able to change what is not good: these are the things which occasion me solicitude.” (Analects, bk. vii., c. iii.)

  He also said, referring to knowledge: “A man can enlarge his principles; the principles do not [i. e., of themselves] enlarge the man.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xxviii.) The same is also implied, as well as that a man of character, while ready to serve, will not permit himself to be used, by this saying (Analects, bk. ii., c. xii.): “The superior man is not an utensil,” i. e., his usefulness is not confined to one thing.

  Therefore, not to one who must as a matter of mere consequence comply, but to one who may exercise a choice whether to obey or not, learned though he may be, he directs this injunction: “Hold faithfulness and sincerity as first principles and be moving continually toward what is right.” (Analects, bk. xii., c. x.)

  Mencius puts it, beautifully, thus: “There is no greater delight than to be conscious of sincerity upon self-examination.” (Bk. vii., pt. i., c. iv., v. 2.)

  In the “Doctrine of the Mean,” Confucius says: “Is it not just entire sincerity which marks the superior man?” (c. xiii., v. 4); and in “The Great Learning”: “The superior man must make his thoughts sincere.” (C. vi., 4.)

  The same idea Mencius presents in this pleasing trope: “The great man is he who does not lose his child’s heart.” (Bk. iv., pt. ii., c. xii.)

  This sincerity of thought, as of action, Confucius included among the five qualities essential to perfect virtue, saying: “To be able to practise five things everywhere under heaven constitutes perfect virtue: Gravity, magnanimity, sincerity, earnestness, and kindness.” (Analects, bk. xvii., c. vi.)

  That it should not be found in every man, however imperfect and however unstable, was incomprehensible to him, since to his view it is the very breath of life for an intelligent being. This he declares in these terms: “Ardent and yet not upright; stupid and yet not attentive; simple and yet not sincere: such persons I do not understand.” (Analects, bk. viii., c. xvi.)

  Yet that he did not expect those who were uninstructed to be sincere, is plain from this expression in the “Doctrine of the Mean”: “If a man do not understand what is good, he will not attain sincerity in himself.” (C. xix., v. 17.)

  This is but a negative statement of what has already been quoted (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xx., v. 19): “To this attainment”—i. e., of sincerity—“there are requisite extensive study of what is good, accurate inquiry concerning it, careful consideration of it, clear distinguishing about it, and earnest practical application of it”—many things, in short, besides and beyond mere knowledge, essential as the intelligent perception of things as they are, may be. As much is also implied in: “He who attains to sincerity chooses the good and firmly holds it fast.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xxi., v. 8.)

  That the attainment of sincerity is an essential prerequisite to self-development, this book strongly asserts. “Sincerity,” it says, “is that whereby self-development is effected and the path by which a man must direct himself” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xxv., v. 1); and again: “It is only he who is possessed of the completest sincerity that can exist under Heaven, who can give full development to his nature.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xxii.) In the “Yi King” (appendix iv., sect. i., c. ii., v. 3), it is said: “He is sincere even in his ordinary words and earnest in his everyday conduct. Guarding against depravity, he preserves his sincerity. His goodness is recognized in the world but he does not boast of it.”

  This beneficent power he is also not confined to exerting upon himself and for his own development only. Instead, it is of broader and even universal application; for Confucius says: “The possessor of sincerity develops not himself only; with it, he also develops others.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xxv., v. 3.)

  By means of sincerity, it is taught in the “Doctrine of the Mean,” and by it alone, man becomes, and is welcomed as, the co-operator with Heaven, and may thus beneficially influence and even transform others. There is psychological import in the words: “It is only he who is possessed of the completest sincerity that can exist under Heaven, who can transform.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xxiii.)

  This is but one of the many alluring rewards that the sage saw to attend sincerity, which is, besides, sufficiently its own reward. Insight and foresight are others, concerning which it is said in the “Doctrine of the Mean”: “He who has sincerity without effort hits what is right and discerns without laborious thought; he is a sage who naturally and readily follows the path.” (C. xx., v. 18.) “It is characteristic of the completest sincerity to be able to foreknow.” (C. xxiv.) “When calamities or blessings are about to befall, the good or the evil will surely be foreknown by him. He, therefore, who is possessed of the completest sincerity, is like a spirit.” (C. xxiv.)

  Extreme as these statements may appear, who is there among earnest thinkers and students that has not seen or experienced something very like this? It is obvious that the mind can the better fulfil its highest offices, if steadily applied thereto and never to the grovelling arts of deception or, lower yet, of self-deception. If gross self-deception, as by cowardice, self-seeking, prejudice, or superstition, renders the mind incapable of perceiving the simplest truths concerning the phenomena of nature, it may well be that complete absence of the wish to deceive or to be deceived bespeaks clarity of vision and of prevision—which is, perhaps, only clear reasoning from the known and now, to the unknown and to be—though it otherwise seem impossible.

  “The Great Learning” teaches that a large measure of this clear vision may be attained; for, immediately after saying, “The superior man is watchful over himself, when alone,” it is added: “There is no evil to which the inferior man will not proceed, when alone. When he beholds a superior man, he tries at once to disguise himself, concealing his evil under a display of virtue. The other penetrates him as if he saw his heart and reins” (Text, vi., v. 1, 2).

  And this is said (Great Learning, vi., v. 2) to warn the inferior man and encourage the superior: “What is in fact within, will show without”; and the Master is quoted in the “Doctrine of the Mean” (c. xx., v. 18), as saying with an enthusiasm no more than commensurate with the subject: “Sincerity is the path of Heaven. The attainment of sincerity is the path for men,” and the “Doctrine of the Mean” adds yet more rapturously in its praise: “Sincerity is the end and the beginning of all things; without sincerity, there is nothing. Therefore, the superior man regards the attainment of sincerity the highest excellence.” (C. xxv., v. 2.)

  This eloquent passage in the “Shu King” (pt. v., bk. ix., v. 2) is evidently at one with the view of Confucius: “Awful though Heaven be, it yet helps the sincere.”

  Rectification of Purpose. “Their thoughts being sincere, their purposes were rectified.”

  In “The Great Learning,” from which this is taken (Text, v. 5), the following brief explanation of it is given: “This is meant by ‘Self-development depends upon rectifying one’s purposes’: If a man be swayed by passion, his conduct will be wrong; and so also if he be swayed by terror, by fondness, by sorrow, by distress. When the mind is not dominant, we look but see not, we hear but comprehend not, we eat but taste not.” (C. vii., v. 1, 2.)

  The same thought Confucius expresses at another time when addressing one of his disciples: “Ch‘ang is under the influence of his passions; how can he be pronounced firm and unbending?” (Analects, bk. v., c. x.)

  Rarely in any of the books edited by Confucius, composed of his sayings or purporting to set forth his views, is anything advanced as the very word of God. Yet upon this topic the following is found in the “Shi King” (Major Odes, decade i., ode 7): “God said to King Wan: ‘Be not like them who reject this and cling to that! Be not like them who are ruled by their likes and desires!’ ”

  And in the “Li Ki” is found this account of the methods and purposes of the ancient kings, already once quoted: “It belongs to the nature of man, as from Heaven, to be still at his birth. His activity shows itself as he is acted on by external things, and develops the desires incident to his nature. Things come to him more and more, and his knowledge is increased. Then arise the manifestations of liking and disliking. When these are not regulated by anything within, and growing knowledge leads more astray without, he cannot come back to himself, and his Heavenly principle is extinguished.

  “Now there is no end of the things by which man is affected; and when his likings and dislikings are not subject to regulation (from within), he is changed into the nature of things as they come before him; that is, he stifles the voice of Heavenly principle within, and gives the utmost indulgence to the desires by which men may be possessed. On this we have the rebellious and deceitful heart, with licentious and violent disorder.” (Li Ki, bk. xvii., sect. i., v. 11, 12.)

  The starting-point for such rectification is vividly portrayed by the sage in the following passage, also from the “Li Ki” (bk. vii., sect. ii., v. 20): “The things which men greatly desire are comprehended in meat, drink, and sexual pleasure; the things which they greatly dislike are comprehended in death, exile, poverty, and suffering. Likes and dislikes are the great elements of men’s minds.”

  If to the three things desired by all men were added “air,” the four primal animal requisites to self-preservation and race-preservation would have been named, each good and well adapted for its own purposes and not one of them subject to any abuses by the unthinking beast.

  That the mind of man, in possessing which he differs from his brother animals, should fail to subordinate each of these and at the same time more perfectly and accurately to adapt it to its own purposes, constitutes abandonment by him of his highest heritage; and such abuses of normal appetites as are involved in feasting, drinking, abandoned venery, or snuff-taking, or tobacco or opium smoking, each an exercise in an abnormal way of a special function for its own sake and without design that the consequences of its healthful exercise should follow, obviously are perversions of the mind and well illustrate that saying of the sage: “The progress of the superior man is upward; the progress of the ordinary man is downward.” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xxiv.)

  The destructive results of setting the heart upon blind indulgence in these refinements of sensual pleasure were sung in “The Odes” by one of the ancient bards:

  • “He who loves hunting and women
  • Abandons his state to ruin.”

  • (Li Ki, bk. ix., sect. ii., v. 12.)

  And this bald fact, abundantly shown in this age by the vital statistics of every country, was spoken by the Duke of Kau and handed down in the “Shu King” (pt. v., bk. xv., v. 2): “They sought for nothing but excessive pleasure and so not one of them had long life.”

  The greater longevity of men who were earnest students and vigorous, forceful thinkers, not given to dissipation of their energies in any of the ways described, had already been remarked, indeed, centuries before the time of Confucius. Yet he had more respect for misguided seekers after pleasure, at bottom, than for the smug lovers of safe comfort; the former at least lived, however mistaken their view of life’s true aim, the strenuous existence, making sacrifices to obtain that which they desired. He would not have been ready to go so far, perhaps, as Ibsen who says through the lips of Brand:

  • “Let be, ye are the serfs of pleasure;
  • Be such, then, with no let nor measure!
  • Not one thing merely for today
  • And quite another thing tomorrow.
  • The Bacchants were ideal. They
  • Kept up a constant round of revel.
  • The sot who swings ’twixt drink and sorrow
  • Is but a ‘pitiable devil.’
  • Silenus was a fine figure,
  • The tippler but his caricature.”

  But much more clearly than any of the other great ethical teachers of ancient times, Confucius recognizes the true opposite of lofty purpose when he puts the contrast thus: “The superior man thinks of virtue; the ordinary man thinks of comfort.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. xi.)

  He thus sets one against the other the highest and the lowest aims of which man is capable; for all other low aims involve at least some sacrifice, while he who seeks comfort only, thinks that he would be happier as a mere parasite. Of such, Confucius says: “Hard is the case of him who will stuff himself with food the whole day, without applying his mind to anything. Are there not gamesters and chessplayers? Even to be one of these would be better than doing nothing at all.” (Analects, bk. xvii., c. xxii.)

  In this age, when comfort is the sole god of the many, who also deem themselves good and virtuous and even superior, surely these truths need to be held before all men without surcease, lest the race degenerate and perish—degenerate because of low aim and its successful attainment, and perish because they whose god is comfort tend to cease to propagate. Was it not to this the sage referred when he said, “Your good, careful people of the villages are the thieves of virtue” (Analects, bk. xvii., c. xiii.), and, as quoted by Mencius, “I hate your good, careful men of the villages, lest they be confounded with the virtuous”? (Bk. vii., pt. ii., c. xxxvi., v. 12.)

  The Duke of Kau is represented in the “Shu King” (pt. v., bk. xv., v. 1) to have said of old: “The superior man rests in this, that he will indulge in no injurious ease.”

  Confucius was ever insistent upon contrasting the love of virtue with the love of comfort as in these sayings: “The scholar who cherishes the love of comfort is not fit to be deemed a scholar.” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. iii.) “A scholar, whose mind is set on truth and who is ashamed of poor clothes and poor food, is not fit to be discoursed with.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. ix.)

  Scarcely less apposite to the conditions of the present day is this contrast which he makes: “The mind of the superior man is conversant with righteousness; the mind of the ordinary man is conversant with gain.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. xxi.)

  Yet he holds that one may receive and welcome his reward, albeit that to secure it should not be his purpose in doing an excellent thing or service. Indeed, one must not even set before him the purpose to secure rewards which are real, though not material, such as fame or even success and self-approbation. The course of virtue, leading to singleness of purpose and thoroughness of work, is thus marked out: “The man of virtue makes the difficulty to be overcome his first business, and success only a subsequent consideration.” (Analects, bk. vi., c. xx.)

  This he adverts to again, saying: “If doing what is to be done be made the first business, and success a secondary consideration, is not this the way to exalt virtue?” (Analects, bk. xii., c. xxi., v. 3.)

  And repeatedly in the “Li Ki” this idea is presented in such varied and beautiful forms as these: “The Master said: ‘The superior man will decline a position of high honour, but not one that is mean; will decline riches, but not poverty. . . . The superior man, rather than be rewarded beyond his desert, will have his desert greater than the reward.’ ” (Bk. xxvii., v. 7.) “The Master said: ‘There is only now and then a man under heaven who loves what is right without expectation of reward, or hates what is wrong without fear of consequences.’ ” (Bk. xxix., v. 13.) “A superior man will not for counsel of little value accept a great reward, nor for counsel of great value a small reward.” (Bk. xxix., v. 36.)

  Yet more reprehensible, if possible, he deems it that in learning the purpose be not solely the attainment of truth and the acquisition of knowledge, but also or even exclusively the praise or favours of others; for he says: “In ancient times men learned with a view to their own improvement. Nowadays men learn with a view to the approbation of others.” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xxv.)

  From the book of Mencius the following is taken: “Yang Hoo said: ‘He who seeks to be rich will not be benevolent; he who seeks to be benevolent will not be rich.’ ” (Bk. ii., pt. i., c. iii., v. 5.)

  The following inspiring saying from the “Li Ki” (bk. xxix., v. 27) points out the goal to attain which the sincere mind must perforce direct all its power: “The services of Hau Ki were the most meritorious of all under heaven. . . . But all he longed for was that his actions should be better than the fame of them, and so he said of himself that he was simply ‘a man who is useful to others.’ ”

  Mencius supplies these infallible indications that one’s purpose is not unmixed with selfish designs, and therefore that it requires careful scrutiny and rectification: “If a man love others and that love is not returned, let him examine himself as to his love of others. If he rules others but his government is not successful, let him examine himself as to wisdom. If he is polite to others but they impolite to him, let him examine himself as to real respect for them. When by what we do we do not achieve our aim, we must examine ourselves at every point. When a man is right, the whole empire will turn to him.” (Bk. iv., pt. i., c. iv., v. 1, 2.)

  Rectified Purpose. “Exalted merit depends on high aim.”

  This precept, taken from the “Shu King” (pt. v., bk. xxi., v. 4), in altered form and otherwise applied, runs through these sentences of Confucius: “Do not be desirous of having things done quickly. Do not look at small advantages. Desire to have things done quickly prevents their being done thoroughly. Looking at small advantages prevents great affairs from being accomplished.” (Analects, bk. xiii., c. xvii.)

  Stern self-examination is inculcated in the “Li Ki” as the first duty of him who aspires to be of service, or who assumes responsibilities: “For one who wished to serve his ruler, the rule was first to measure his abilities and duties and then enter upon the responsibilities; he did not first enter and then measure. The same rule applied when one begged or borrowed from others or sought to enter their service.” (Bk. xv., v. 19.)

  And yet more pointedly in this from the “Shi King” (Major Odes, decade iii., ode 6): “He was always anxious lest he should not be equal to his task.”

  Thoroughness, continuity of purpose and persistence are strongly urged; but, above all things, that rigorous judgment of a man’s self which alone can keep his effort directed toward the goal. On this point, Confucius sadly and repeatedly warns his disciples against over-confidence that these things will come of themselves, saying: “I have not seen one who loves virtue as he loves beauty.” (Analects, bk. ix., c. xvii., bk. xv., c. xii.) And again: “I have not yet seen one who could perceive his faults and inwardly accuse himself.” (Analects, bk. v., c. xxvi.)

  Nevertheless the necessity for constant self-inspection was held before his disciples, as in this parable (Great Learning, c. ii.): “On the bathtub of T‘ang the following words were engraved: ‘If you can purify yourself a single day, do so every day. Let no day pass without purification!’ ”; and the same he said, even more vigorously, thus: “To assail one’s own wickedness and not assail that of others, is this not the way to correct cherished evil?” (Analects, bk. xii., c. xxi., v. 3.)

  On another occasion Confucius illustrated it by referring to archery and saying: “In archery, we have something like the way of the superior man. When the archer misses the centre of the target, he turns around and seeks the cause of his failure within himself.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xiv., v. 5.)

  His disciple, Tsang, thus describes the scrutiny to which he habitually and daily submitted his own thoughts and conduct: “I daily examine myself on three points: whether, in transacting business for others I may not have been faithful; whether, in intercourse with friends, I may not have been sincere; and whether I may not have mastered and practised the instructions of my teacher.” (Analects, bk. i., c. iv.)

  This the “Doctrine of the Mean” enjoins as necessary in order that one may justly cherish true self-respect, saying: “The superior man examines his heart that there may be nothing wrong there and that he may have no cause for dissatisfaction with himself.” (C. xxxiii., v. 2.)

  Both emulation of the virtues of superior men and this unrelenting introspection are urged in this counsel: “When we see men of worth, we should think of equalling them; when we see men of the contrary character, we should turn inwards and examine ourselves.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. xvii.)

  Mencius illustrates this and enlarges upon it thus: “To support the resolution, there is nothing better than to make the desires few. Here is a man whose desires are few; in some things he may not be able to maintain his resolution, but they will be few. Here is a man whose desires are many; in some things he may be able to maintain his resolution, but they will be few.” (Bk. vii., pt. ii., c. xxxv.)

  The emphasis which the sage thus puts upon desire and purpose, does not imply that he deems the act good or bad, only according as the motive is virtuous or evil. The act will be judged by its effect and the motive also by its result. The act may affect for weal or woe the man or others or both, entirely independently of the purpose; but the wish and intention immediately affect the development of the man himself, and make him more or less a man.

  Therefore is it that from earliest youth one must be careful about that which he most earnestly desires, not because he will not obtain it, but because he will, to his making or his undoing; and the teachers of the young have greater reason to direct with care their wishes, longings, and ambitions than merely their present application to study and work.

  Mencius refers to this when he aptly says: “Let a man stand fast in the nobler part of himself and the meaner part will not be able to take it from him.” (Bk. vi., pt. i., c. xv., v. 2.)

  He also points out how men are distinguished by the loftiness or lowness of their purposes, thus: “Those who follow that part of themselves which is great, are great men; those who follow that part of themselves which is little, are little men.” (Bk. vi., pt. i., c. xv., v. 1.)

  The intimate and immediate connection between sincerity and purity of purpose is self-evident; only by the most searching sincerity can the human intellect be prevented from deceiving itself, where elemental appetites, useful for the purposes for which they exist but destructive if unrestrained, plead for freedom from restraint and even for stimulation as ends in themselves and not in furtherance of the cosmic purposes of self-preservation and race-preservation for which they were given.

  This glorious picture of achievement Confucius puts before those of his disciples who will preserve in thought and action unswerving integrity of purpose and of aim: “Contemplating good and pursuing it as if they could not attain to it, contemplating evil and shrinking from it as they would from thrusting the hand into boiling water—I have seen such men as I have heard such words.” (Analects, bk. xvi., c. xi., v. 1.)

  There may, then, be such men; no impossible standard is here set up. Confucius had long held his conduct up to it and says of himself: “With coarse rice to eat, with water to drink and my bended arm for a pillow, I still have joy in the midst of these things. Riches and honours, acquired by unrighteousness, are to me as a floating cloud.” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xv.)

  CHAPTER II

  SELF-DEVELOPMENT

  The characteristics of the superior man having been presented, it is in logical order to examine the faculties and qualities which Confucius would have one cultivate to attain this ideal state. First in importance is the will.

  The Will. “Their purposes being rectified, they cultivated themselves.”

  By these words in “The Great Learning” (Text, v. 5) it is meant that when there is no conflict of aims, of duties and desires, when one wills what he wishes, and with all his heart singly and clearly wishes what he wills, then and not till then does the will become clear and firm and strong.

  The man is his will; back of his will is his purpose; and back of his purpose, his desire. If his knowledge enable him to make right choices, he should be sincere, his desires should be disciplined, his purpose lofty, and, resting thereupon as on a rock, his will fixed and immovable. That is character.

  Confucius puts it: “If the will be set on virtue, there will be no practice of wickedness.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. iv.) True; for when the will rests upon set purpose, based upon purified desire, born of knowledge and discriminating investigation of phenomena, nothing can undermine it!

  This rectification of the antecedent conditions is what the sage refers to when he says: “To subdue one’s self and return to propriety is perfect virtue” (Analects, bk. xii., c. 1), and again: “The firm, the enduring, the simple, and the unpretentious are near to virtue.” (Analects, bk. xiii., c. xxvii.)

  That the will is proved by its resistance rather than its impelling force, Mencius says in this: “Men must be resolute about what they will not do and then they are able to act with vigor.” (Bk. iv., pt. ii., c. viii.)

  The same is meant, i. e., that if one’s trust is thus grounded, nothing external can shake his determination, when Confucius says: “The commander of the forces of a large state may be carried off, but the will of even a common man cannot be taken from him.” (Analects, bk. ix., c. xxv.) So speaks Ibsen who puts into the mouth of Brand:

  • “That one cannot him excuses,
  • But never that he does not will.”

  Confucius refuses to accept the excuse of inability unless one actually expires in a supreme effort to achieve. Therefore, when his disciple, Yen K‘ew, said: “It is not that I do not delight in your doctrines, but my strength is insufficient,” he admonished him: “They whose strength is insufficient give over in the middle of the way, but now you do but set limits unto yourself.” (Analects, bk. vi., c. x.)

  The scorn of craven compromise is well voiced in this: “Tsze-Chang said, ‘When a man holds fast virtue, but without seeking to enlarge it, and credits right principles, but without firm sincerity, what account can be made of his existence or non-existence?” (Analects, bk. xix., c. ii.)

  That the path of duty leads to the very brink of the grave—and beyond it—Confucius says in no uncertain language: “The determined scholar and the man of virtue will not seek to live at the expense of injuring their virtue. They will even sacrifice their lives to preserve their virtue complete.” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. viii.) “The man who in the view of gain thinks of righteousness, who in the view of danger is prepared to give up his life, and who does not forget an old agreement, however far back it extends—such a man may be reckoned a complete man.” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xiii., v. 2.)

  His disciple, Tsze-Chang, said of this: “The scholar, beholding threatened danger, is prepared to sacrifice his life. When the opportunity for gain is presented to him, he thinks of righteousness.” (Analects, bk. xix., c. i.)

  This picture, which to uninstructed mortals may seem dark and forbidding,—it should not seem so, since to die is before every man and few can hope to have so noble an end,—Confucius did not always hold before the eyes of his disciples, however, but on the contrary justly declared, in the face of their craven dread: “Virtue is more to man than either fire or water. I have seen men die by treading upon fire or water, but I have never seen a man die by treading the path of virtue.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xxxiv.)

  It costs really nothing to will that which is good and beneficial; the cost is all on the other side. That one sacrifices, is pure delusion; the pleasure as well as the solid benefit is to be found where the enlightened will would bear us. Such conduct is heroic to contemplate; but it is simple truth and not merely personal praise which Confucius spake of another: “With a single bamboo dish of rice, a single gourd dish of drink, and living in a mean, narrow lane, while others could not have endured the distress, he did not allow his joy to be affected by it.” (Analects, bk. vi., c. ix.)

  It might, indeed it ought and would, be true of any other, if unspoiled; and, as he has well said: “For a morning’s anger, to wreck one’s life and involve the lives of his parents, is not this a case of delusion?” (Analects, bk. xii., c. xxi., v. 3.)

  And, while not so strikingly and obviously true, this statement holds for every aberration from the path of duty, into which one may believe himself led by reason of the greater pleasure and satisfaction that it seems to offer, be it what it may. The beauty, the compensations and relaxations of the upward course are thus set forth by the sage: “Let the will be set on the path of duty! Let every attainment of what is good be firmly grasped! Let perfect virtue be emulated! Let relaxation and enjoyment be found in the polite arts!” (Analects, bk. vii., c. vi.)

  To the instructed mind there is nothing uninviting in this prospect; and low and mind-destroying pleasures and comforts which are in fact, though not apparently, lower and more destructive are well abandoned for these higher, simpler, keener, and more abiding satisfactions. Confucius puts it also more explicitly thus: “To find enjoyment in the discriminating study of ceremonies and music; to find enjoyment in speaking of the goodness of others; to find enjoyment in having many worthy friends:—these are advantageous. To find enjoyment in extravagant pleasures; to find enjoyment in idleness and sauntering; to find enjoyment in the pleasures of feasting:—these are injurious.” (Analects, bk. xvi., c. v.)

  Even reverses and hardships have their lesson and reward if one but meet them with resolution; for as Mencius says: “When Heaven is about to confer a great office on any man, it first disciplines his mind with suffering and his bones and sinews with toil. It exposes him to want and subjects him to extreme poverty. It confounds his undertakings. By all these methods it stimulates his mind, hardens him, and supplies his shortcomings.” (Bk. vi., pt. ii., c. xv., v. 2.)

  This development of the will, which is the development of the man, is therefore not a thing to terrify or repel. Instead, it is mastery, power, sway, achievement—that for which the mind of man longs unceasingly. And it comes of itself, if the basis for it has been safely and carefully laid in purified desires and righteous aims, without effort, without strain, without pain or penalty.

  “Is virtue a thing remote?” asked the sage; and answered: “I wish to be virtuous, and lo, virtue is at hand!” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xxix.)

  What, then, is this will? What, this virtue? The disciples of Confucius handed the secret of it down from one to another, in these words: “The doctrine of our master is to be true to the principles of our nature and the benevolent exercise of them to others.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. xv., v. 2.)

  That the joy of well-doing is more than comparable with the pleasure of abandonment to sensual playing with elemental appetites, is said in these words of Wu, reported in the “Shu King”: “I have heard that the good man, doing good, finds the day insufficient; and that the evil man, doing evil, also finds the day insufficient.” (Pt. v., bk. i., sect. 2.)

  Fortitude. When the will accords completely with the purpose and the desire, courage follows necessarily; for, if one desires a given result, designs to compass it, and wills to achieve it, it can only mean that he is not fearful about it but instead is cool and determined. As it costs nothing to will, when the purposes are rectified; so, when the will is clear and firm, it costs nothing to be brave. Therefore in “The Great Learning” it is said that by this course, “unperturbed resolve is attained.” Confucius elsewhere puts it: “To see what is right and not to do it, is want of courage.” (Analects, bk. ii., c. xxiv., v. 2.)

  For if one see what is right, he should think sincerely about it, without self-delusion; and, thinking thus, his desires and his purposes should be rectified and therefrom the will to do right will flow. And if he see the truth and do not do these things, it is plainly want of courage—the courage to cast aside comfortable delusions, to think sincerely and be undeceived. When undeceived and with desire and resolve purified, the will and courage follow inevitably.

  Confucius again refers to this, saying: “When you have faults, do not fear to abandon them.” (Analects, bk. i., c. viii., v. 4.) This is also the gist of the following injunction from the “Li Ki” (bk. xv., v. 22): “Do not try to defend or conceal what was wrong in the past.”

  So also speaks Yueh in the “Shu King”: “Do not be ashamed of mistakes and so proceed to make them crimes!” (Pt. iv., bk. viii., sect. ii., v. 1.)

  The fear here referred to is doubtless both the fear of discomfort and the fear of the prying eyes and the caustic tongues of others. To this craven dread, reference is made when Tsze-Hea says: “The inferior man is sure to gloss his faults.” (Analects, bk. xix., c. viii.) The remedy for it, Confucius demonstrates in these brave words: “I am fortunate! If I have any faults, people are sure to know them.” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xxx., v. 3.)

  Thus Mencius puts it: “When any one told Tsze-loo that he had a fault, he rejoiced.” (Bk. ii., pt. i., c. viii., v. 1.)

  Again speaking in the “Yi King” in praise of the son of the Yen family, Confucius says: “If anything that he did was not good, he was sure to become conscious of it; and, when he knew it, he did not do the thing again.” (Appendix iii., v. 42.)

  So, also, King Thang is represented in the “Shu King” as saying: “The good in you I will not dare to keep concealed; and for the evil in me, I will not dare to forgive myself.” (Pt. iv., bk. iii., v. 3.)

  And in the “Shu King,” also, the great Shun is reported to have said: “When I am doing wrong, it is yours to correct me. Do not concur to my face and when you have retired, speak otherwise!” (Pt. ii., bk. iv., 1.)

  Fearlessness Confucius ever named as an attribute of the superior man, saying (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xxx., v. 1): “The way of the superior man is threefold, but I am not equal to it. Virtuous, he is free from anxieties; wise, he is free from perplexities; bold, he is free from fear”; and he presents this opposite picture (Analects, bk. iv., c. ii.): “They who are without virtue cannot abide long either in a condition of poverty and hardship or in a condition of enjoyment.”

  This is even more strikingly presented in the following: “Having not and yet affecting to have, empty and yet affecting to be full, straitened and yet affecting to be at ease! It is difficult with such characteristics to have constancy.” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xxv., v. 3.)

  And in this contrast: “The superior man is satisfied and composed, the ordinary man is always full of distress.” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xxxvi.)

  The cowardice of such concern about the future as sets one to speculating and worrying is condemned in the “Li Ki” (bk. xv., 22) as follows: “Do not try . . . to fathom what has not yet arrived.”

  The sage was not unaware that boldness may be the result of ignorance as well as of knowledge, that it may be madness and folly instead of clear sanity and wisdom. It was concerning such that Confucius spoke when he said of the superior man: “He hates those who have valour only and are unobservant of propriety. He hates those who are forward and determined and at the same time of contracted understanding.” (Analects, bk. xvii., c. xxiv., v. 2.)

  That the bravery of the superior man and the bravado of the inferior should be distinguished, is the gist of the following saying: “Men of principle are sure to be bold, but those who are bold may not always be men of principle.” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. v.)

  The absolute need of fearlessness, Mencius enjoins in this which he puts into the mouth of Mang She-Shay: “I look upon not conquering and conquering in the same way. To measure the enemy and then advance, to calculate the chances of victory and then engage—this is to stand in dread of the opposing force. How can I make certain of conquering? But I can rise superior to all fear.” (Bk. ii., pt. i., c. ii., v. 5.)

  The shame of moral cowardice is well set forth by Confucius in the “Yi King,” thus: “If one be distressed by what need not distress him, his name is sure to be disgraced.” (Appendix iii., sect. ii., c. v.)

  What, then, may the superior man fear? The answer, disclosing that upon which the courage of the superior man rests securely, is in this query: “They sought to act virtuously and they did so; and what was there for them to repine about?” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xiv., v. 2.)

  The freedom from fear which is here referred to costs no effort; if the precedent conditions have been fulfilled, it is their natural and necessary consequence and appears in the noble attributes of the superior man, to which Confucius often adverted, as thus: “The superior man has neither anxiety nor fear.” (Analects, bk. xii., c. iv., v. 1.) “When internal examination discovers nothing wrong, what is there to be anxious about, what is there to fear?” (Analects, bk. xii., c. iv., v. 3.)

  Poise. “To this”—i. e., to unperturbed calm—“succeeds tranquil poise. In this poise is found deliberation.”

  This passage from “The Great Learning” (Text, v. 2) aims to enforce that it is not enough that one should be resolute and composed in the presence of danger; he must ever be calm and resolute. Thus the sage has said: “What the superior man seeks, is in himself; what the ordinary man seeks, is in others.” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xxviii.) And his disciple, Tsang, says: “The superior man in his thoughts does not go out of his place.” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xxviii.)

  In the “Yi King” (appendix ii., c. iii.), it is put thus: “The superior man does not in his thoughts go beyond the position in which he is.”

  And thus, also: “The influence of the world would make no change in him; he would do nothing merely to secure fame. He can live withdrawn from the world without regret; he can experience disapproval without a troubled mind. . . . He is not to be torn from his root.” (Appendix iv., c. ii., v. 41.)

  In the “Li Ki” this is much expatiated upon, in part only as follows: “The scholar keeps himself free from all stain; . . . he does not go among those who are low, to make himself seem high, nor set himself among those who are foolish, to make himself seem wise; . . . he does not approve those who think as he, nor condemn those who think differently; thus he takes his stand alone and pursues his course, unattended.” (Bk. xxxviii., v. 15.)

  The reward for this attainment of perfect poise is described in the “Yi King” (appendix iii., sect. i., c. i., v. 8), in these words: “With the attainment of such ease and such freedom from laborious effort, the mastery is had of all principles under the sky.”

  And the mode and manner of it are portrayed in the same book (appendix iii., sect. ii., c. v., v. 44) by this saying attributed to Confucius: “The superior man composes himself before trying to move others; makes his mind at rest and easy, before he opens his mouth; determines upon his method of intercourse with others, before he seeks anything of them.”

  The central conception is that the man should be so balanced that, instead of giving unconscious reactions or semi-conscious responses to stimuli from without, every response, however promptly delivered in speech or act, should be purposive—the consequence of intelligent understanding and resolve.

  Mencius said of himself (bk. ii., pt. i., c. ii., v. 1): “At forty I attained to an unperturbed mind”; and Confucius of himself (Analects, bk. vi., c. xxvii.): “There may be those who do this or that, without knowing why. I do not do so.”

  The sage also eulogizes the balanced, self-centred man in no uncertain terms, as follows: “He with whom neither calumny which slowly soaks into the mind, nor insults that startle like a wound to the flesh, are successful, may indeed be called intelligent; yea, he with whom neither soaking calumny nor startling insults are successful may be called far-seeing.” (Analects, bk. xii., c. vi.)

  Here are yet other words of penetrating wisdom concerning the advantages of this perfect poise and calm: “He who does not anticipate attempts to deceive him nor think beforehand of his not being believed, and yet apprehends these things readily when they occur, is he not a man of superior worth?” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xxxviii.)

  Mencius also characterizes such a man as follows: “When he obtains the desired position to practise virtue for the good of the people; when disappointed in that ambition to practise virtue for himself; to be above the power of riches and honours to corrupt, of poverty and a mean condition to swerve and of might and sway to bend—these characterize the great man.” (Bk. iii., pt. ii., c. ii., v. 3.)

  Confucius deemed it indispensable for a ruler to thus possess his soul. Alone it would make a ruler good, if not indeed great. Therefore, he says: “May not Shun be instanced as having governed efficiently without exertion? What did he do? He did nothing but gravely and reverently occupy his imperial seat.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. iv.)

  And again in these enthusiastic words: “How majestic was the manner in which Shun and Yu held possession of the empire, as if it were nothing to them!” (Analects, bk. viii., c. xviii.)

  How this singleness of purpose and this perfect poise of soul, unsuspected during an uneventful life, when great occasion arises, stand forth and reveal the man, is the burden of this saying: “The superior man cannot be known in little matters but he may be entrusted with great concerns.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xxxiii.)

  Self-Control. “Want of forbearance in small matters confounds great plans.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xxvi.)

  The need for constancy and self-control is often urged by the sage, as thus: “Inconstant in his virtue, he will be visited with disgrace.” (Analects, bk. xiii., c. xxii., v. 2.) In the “Shu King,” I Yin is represented as expressing this sentiment: “Be careful to strive after the virtue of self-restraint and to cherish far-reaching plans.” (Pt. iv., bk. v., sect. 1, 2.)

  What is emphasized in these passages, is that he who has formed worthy conceptions of the significance of life and correct designs for accomplishing its ends must not permit himself, at unguarded moments, to be surprised into revelations of deeper-seated longings, by the unexpected presentation of opportunities for the safe enjoyment of sensual delights or by the excitement of rage or terror or other unworthy emotion.

  It is well said in the “Shi King” (Minor Odes of the Kingdom, decade v., ode 2): “Men who are grave and wise, though they drink, are masters of themselves. Men who are benighted and ignorant become slaves of drink and more so, daily. Be careful, each of you, of your conduct! What Heaven confers, when once lost, will not be regained.”

  The necessity for reflection and consideration, though it be but momentary, before responding to any impulse from without, either in speech or in action, instead of the automatic, animal response of a curse or a blow, a smile or a caress, or whatever it may be when one is played upon, is always present in the mind of the sage. It is significantly expressed thus: “Ke Wan Tze thought thrice and then acted. When the Master was informed of it, he said: ‘Twice may do.’ ” (Analects, bk. v., c. xix.)

  That even greater prudence in speech is desirable, is indicated by this reply to the inquiry of Tsze-kung: “What constitutes the superior man?” “He acts before he speaks and afterwards speaks in accordance with his act.” (Analects, bk. ii., c. xiii.)

  Reasons for reticence are given in several passages, from which these are culled: “The Master said, ‘The superior man is modest in his speech but exceeds in his actions.’ ” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xxix.) “This man seldom speaks; when he does, he is sure to hit the point.” (Analects, bk. xi., c. xiii., v. 3.) “When a man feels the difficulty of doing, can he be otherwise than cautious and slow in speaking?” (Analects, bk. xii., c. iii., v. 3.) “The reason why the ancients did not readily give utterance to their words was because they feared lest their deeds should not come up to them.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. xxii.)

  The prudence of this course is illustrated in the “Shi King” (Major Odes, decade iii., ode 2) by this apt comparison: “A flaw in a mace of white jade may be ground away, but a word spoken amiss cannot be mended.”

  This is expatiated upon by the sage as follows: “Hear much and put aside the points of which you are in doubt, while you speak cautiously at the same time of others;—then you will afford few occasions for blame. See much and put aside the things which seem perilous, while you are cautious at the same time in carrying the others into practice;—then you will have few occasions for repentance.” (Analects, bk. ii., c. xvii., v. 2.)

  And when Fan Ch‘e asked about perfect virtue, Confucius replied in practical terms: “It is, in retirement, to be sedately grave; in the management of business, to be reverently attentive; in intercourse with others, to be strictly sincere.” (Analects, bk. xiii., c. xix.)

  The portrait of such a man is well drawn in these outlines: “Looked at from a distance, he appears stern; when approached, he is mild; when he is heard to speak, his language is firm and decided.” (Analects, bk. xix., c. ix.)

  By this is not meant mere obstinacy, but firmness, based upon resolve, resting in turn on rectified purpose, that in turn upon clarified and illuminated desire, and all upon intelligent investigation and determination of facts. Therefore, he has also said: “The superior man is correctly firm, and not firm merely.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xxxvi.)

  Dignity also accompanies this aplomb or mental and moral balance, as a consequence and not as a thing which must be thought about and striven for—simple dignity which comes as naturally as the bloom upon the peach or upon the cheek of youth or maiden—never to be confounded with arrogance. Of this, we learn: “The superior man has dignified ease without pride. The ordinary man has pride without dignified ease.” (Analects, bk. xiii., c. xxvi.)

  Moderation. “Sincerely hold fast the due mean.” (Analects, bk. xx., c. i., v. 1.)

  “The Master said: ‘Alas, how the path of the mean is not walked in!’ ” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. v.)

  An entire book, bearing the title: “The Doctrine of the Mean,” consisting chiefly of sayings of Confucius upon this subject, survives. The following account of its origin is found in the introduction: “This work contains the law of the mind which was handed down from one to another in the Confucian School till Tsze-tsze (the grandson of Confucius), fearing lest in the course of time errors should arise about it, committed it to writing and delivered it to Mencius.”

  What is meant by “the mean” is the virtue which the ancient Greeks especially praised under the name of temperance. It is defined in the “Li Ki” as follows: “Pride should not be allowed to grow. The desires should not be indulged. The will should not be gratified to the full. Pleasure should not be carried to excess.” (Bk. i., sect. i., pt. i., c. ii.)

  Confucius attached great importance to this idea, saying: “Perfect is the virtue which is according to the mean. They have long been rare among the people who could practise it.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. iii.)

  He also said: “I know how it is that the path of the mean is not walked in; the knowing go beyond it and the stupid do not come up to it. I know how it is that the path of the mean is not understood; the men of talents and virtue go beyond it, and the worthless do not come up to it.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. iv., v. 1.)

  The difficulty, indeed the well-nigh impossibility, of attaining this perfect self-control was appreciated by Confucius, who often spoke of it, saying: “All men say, ‘We are wise’; but happening to choose the path of the mean, they are not able to keep it for a round month.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. vi.)

  And again: “The empire, its states, and its families may be perfectly ruled, dignities and emoluments may be declined, naked weapons may be trampled under the feet, but the course of the mean cannot be attained to.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. ix.)

  And in another place he says: “The good man tries to proceed according to the right path, but when he has gone half-way he abandons it.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xi., v. 2.)

  Yet he does not overemphasize this nor fail to recognize that this path is as frequently found by the lowly and humble as by those who are conscious of greatness. He says, instead: “The path is not far from man. When men try to pursue a course which is far from the common indications of consciousness, this course cannot be considered the path.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xiii., v. 1.)

  Mencius in two places reverently echoes this sentiment, as follows: “The path of duty lies in what is near and men seek for it in what is remote; to follow it is easy and men seek it among arduous undertakings.” (Bk. iv., pt. i., c. xi.) “The way of truth is like a great road. It is not hard to find it. The trouble is only that men will not look for it. Go home and seek it and you will find many ready to point it out.” (Bk. vi., pt. ii., c. ii., v. 7.)

  This strange but necessary combination of simplicity and complexity, of things easy and things difficult to understand, is well set forth in the following cryptic language: “The way of the superior man may be found in its simple elements in the intercourse of common men and women, in its utmost reaches it shines brightly through Heaven and earth.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xii., v. 4.)

  Confucius finds the starting point for following the path of the mean in this, that one should be natural, should be himself. The whole picture of what is fundamentally necessary and of what result may be hoped for is in the following from the “Doctrine of the Mean” (c. xiv.):

  “The superior man does what is proper to the station in which he is, he does not desire to go beyond this. In a position of wealth and honour he does what is proper to a position of wealth and honour; in a poor and low position, he does what is proper to a poor and low position; situated among barbarous tribes, he does what is proper to a situation among barbarous tribes; in a position of sorrow and difficulty, he does what is proper to a position of sorrow and difficulty.

  “The superior man can find himself in no position in which he is not himself. In a high situation he does not treat with contempt his inferiors, in a low situation he does not court the favour of his superiors. He rectifies himself, and seeks for nothing from others, so that he has no dissatisfaction.

  “He does not murmur against Heaven nor grumble against men. Thus it is that the superior man is quiet and calm, waiting for the appointments of Heaven, while the inferior man walks in dangerous paths, looking for lucky occurrences.”

  This path, according to Confucius, lies before every man. It is put thus in the “Doctrine of the Mean” in a passage deemed by Chinese scholars to refer to Confucius only: “It waits for the proper man, and then it is trodden. Hence it is said, ‘Only by perfect virtue can the perfect path in all its courses be realized.’ Therefore the superior man honours his virtuous nature and maintains constant inquiry and study, seeking to carry it out to its breadth and greatness, so as to omit none of the most exquisite and minute points which it embraces, and to raise it to its greatest height and brilliancy, so as to pursue the course of the mean.” (C. xxvii., v. 4, 5, 6.)

  The qualities of the man who follows the path of the mean are matters about which the author of the “Doctrine of the Mean” becomes enthusiastic, indulging in declarations such as these: “It is only he, possessed of all sagely qualities that can exist under Heaven, who shows himself quick in apprehension, clear in discernment, of far-reaching intelligence and all-embracing knowledge, fitted to exercise rule; magnanimous, generous, benign and mild, fitted to exercise forbearance; impulsive, energetic, firm and enduring, fitted to maintain a firm grasp; self-adjusted, grave, never swerving from the mean and correct, fitted to command reverence; accomplished, distinctive, concentrative, and searching, fitted to exercise discrimination; all-embracing is he, and vast, deep, and active as a fountain, sending forth, in their due seasons, his virtues.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xxxi., v. 1, 2.)

  Confucius rarely held out any actual, earthly reward, external to the man, for any line of conduct; and indeed above all other attitudes of mind, he praised that which considered solely the thing to be done and not the reward for doing it. Yet as to certain consequences which flow from following the path of the mean, the “Doctrine of the Mean” was not silent, but said of him who follows it consistently: “Wherever ships and carriages reach, wherever the strength of man penetrates, wherever the heavens overshadow and the earth sustains, wherever the sun and moon shine, wherever frost and dew fall, all who have blood and breath unfeignedly honour and love him.” (C. xxxi., v. 3.)

  Righteousness. “Such deliberation results in achievement of the ends of being.”

  These words from “The Great Learning” (Text, v. 2) raise the question: What is life’s object? Confucius elsewhere answers it: “Man is born for uprightness. If a man lose his uprightness and yet live, his escape is the result of mere good fortune.” (Analects, bk. vi., c. xvii.)

  Tsang Tze, according to Mencius, attributes this also to Confucius: “If on self-examination, I find I am not upright, shall I not be in fear even of a poor man in his loose garments of hair-cloth? If on self-examination I find that I am upright, I will go forward against thousands and tens of thousands.” (Mencius, bk. ii., pt. i., c. ii., v. 7.)

  It is to this, also, that Confucius refers when he says: “Let every man consider virtue as what devolves upon himself; he may not yield the performance of it even to his teacher.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xxxv.)

  That it comes naturally and easily if the purpose has been rectified and the will is clear and strong, he says in these words: “If the will be set on virtue, there will be no practice of wickedness.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. iv.)

  The life which is devoid of purity and rectitude, he regards as thrown away. Righteousness should reign in men’s hearts and in their lives. Its name and how desirable a thing it is should be upon their lips every day; for of this he speaks as follows: “When a number of people are together for a whole day without their conversation turning on righteousness, and when they are fond of carrying out a narrow shrewdness, theirs is indeed a hard case.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xvi.)

  Cunning shrewdness he regarded as utterly inconsistent with rectitude, saying: “Who says of Wei-chang Kao that he is upright? One begged some vinegar of him and he begged it of a neighbour and gave it to him.” (Analects, bk. v., c. xxiii.)

  That righteousness is of the man and not only of his deed, Mencius thus affirms: “Kao Tze has never understood righteousness. He makes it a thing external.” (Bk. ii., pt. i., c. ii., v. 15.)

  The attainment of righteousness of thought and conduct, then, is the aim of all who wish, in conformity with the art of living, to achieve a well-spent life. Perfect and complete rectitude is, of course, not a sine qua non in order that one should be a superior man; for the word “superior” is relative. Confucius says: “Superior men, and yet not always virtuous, there have been, alas! But there has never been an inferior man who was at the same time virtuous.” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. vii.)

  Among the descriptions of the superior man, we find these which bear upon the same subject; for the most part they have already been quoted, but it is necessary to reconsider them here: “The superior man thinks of virtue, the ordinary man thinks of comfort. The superior man thinks of sanctions of law, the ordinary man of favours.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. xi.) “The mind of the superior man is conversant with righteousness, the mind of the ordinary man is conversant with gain.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. xvi.) “The superior man holds righteousness to be of the highest importance.” (Analects, bk. xvii., c. xxiii.) “The superior man in all things considers righteousness essential.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xvii.)

  Mencius thus identifies righteousness as the normal attribute of man: “Benevolence is the tranquil habitation of man and righteousness his straight path. Alas for them who leave the tranquil habitation tenantless and dwell not therein and who turn away from the straight path and pursue it not!” (Bk. iv., pt. i., c. x., v. 2, 3.)

  Nine things, as regards which one must keep watch over himself, are enumerated by Confucius as follows: “The superior man has nine things which are subjects with him of thoughtful consideration. In regard to the use of his eyes, he is anxious to see clearly. In regard to the use of his ears, he is anxious to hear distinctly. In regard to his countenance, he is anxious that it should be benign. In regard to his demeanour, he is anxious that it should be respectful. In regard to his speech, he is anxious that it should be sincere. In regard to his doing of business, he is anxious that it should be reverently careful. In regard to what he doubts about, he is anxious to question others. When he is angry, he thinks of the difficulties his anger may involve him in. When he sees gain to be got, he thinks of righteousness.” (Analects, bk. xvi., c. x.)

  Some of the qualities which go to make up rectitude of demeanour and conduct are recorded in this passage, with appropriate statements as to their advantages: “If you are grave, you will not be treated with disrespect. If you are generous, you will win all. If you are sincere, people will repose trust in you. If you are earnest, you will accomplish much. If you are kind, this will enable you to employ the services of others.” (Analects, bk. xvii., c. vi.)

  And in the “Li Ki” (bk. vii., sect. ii., 19), the following are given as essentials of right-living: “What are the things which men consider right? Kindness in a father, filial piety in a son; gentleness in an elder brother, obedience in a younger; righteousness in a husband, submission in a wife; kindness in elders, deference in juniors; benevolence in a ruler, loyalty in a minister. These ten are things which men consider right. To speak the truth and work for harmony are what are called things advantageous to men. To quarrel, plunder, and murder are things disastrous to men.”

  The philosophy, the sequence, even the causation of it are contained in this, from the same book: “He who knows how to exemplify what a son should be, can afterwards exemplify what a father should be. He who knows how to exemplify what a minister should be, can afterwards exemplify what a ruler should be. He who knows how to serve others, can afterwards employ them.” (Bk. vi., sect. i., 20.)

  Perhaps there are traces of an ancient freemasonry—or did they merely presage the newer symbolism?—in this, from the “Yi King” (appendix iv., sect. ii., c. ii., 6): “The plumb signifies correctness; the square, righteousness.” There are several such passages in the ancient books of the Chinese.

  Self-righteousness is far from what the sage has in mind. Indeed, such a conception could not be harboured by him who said: “I am fortunate. If I have any faults, people are sure to know them” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xxx., v. 3); and again: “In letters I am perhaps equal to other men, but the character of the superior man, carrying out in his conduct what he professes, is what I have not yet attained to.” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xxxii.) As the sage puts it: “To have faults and not to reform them, this indeed should be pronounced having faults.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xxix.)

  He also said concerning himself: “If some years were added to my life, I would give fifty to the study of the Yi, and then I might come to be without great faults” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xvi.); and he especially praised the selection by Keu Pihyuh of a messenger who, when asked, “What is your master engaged in?” replied: “My master is anxious to make his faults few, but has not yet succeeded.” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xxvi.)

  And the necessity for frequent introspection and unsparing criticism of self is thus enjoined: “Therefore, the superior man examines his heart that there may be nothing wrong there, and that he may have no cause for dissatisfaction with himself.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xxxiii., v. 2.)

  That righteousness may—and, indeed, must, in order to be practicable by mortals—coexist with the presence of many shortcomings and may even be reflected in them, Confucius indicates in this shrewd remark: “By observing a man’s faults, it may be known that he is virtuous.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. vii.)

  Not that one is to hug this to his soul in self-justification and self-indulgence, for it is written: “Hold faithfulness and sincerity as first principles, and be moving continually toward what is right!” (Analects, bk. xii., c. x., v. 1.) He would not lightly excuse or condone the abandonment of virtue; for is it not he “who in the view of gain thinks of righteousness,” that is pronounced “a complete man”? (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xiii., v. 2.) “The determined scholar and the man of virtue,” he also said, “will not seek to live at the expense of injuring their virtue. They will even sacrifice their lives to preserve their virtue complete.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. viii.)

  Mencius also puts forth this idea in another dress: “I prize life indeed but there is that which I prize more than life and therefore I will not seek to preserve it by improper means. I shrink from death indeed but there is that which I shrink from more than death, and therefore there are occasions when I will not avoid danger.” (Bk. vi., pt. i., c. x., v. I.)

  Confucius had no notion of palliating the offence of one who abandons right-doing; for he said of this: “If a superior man abandon virtue, how can he fulfil the requirements of the name? The superior man does not, even for the space of a single meal, act contrary to virtue. In moments of haste, he cleaves to it. In seasons of danger he cleaves to it.” (Analects, bk. iv., v. 2, 3.)

  And this constancy he again adverts to, sagely: “The virtuous rest in virtue; the wise desire virtue.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. ii.) Yet he laments: “I have not seen a person who loved virtue, or one who hated what is not virtuous. He who loved virtue, would esteem nothing above it. He who hated what is not virtuous, would practise virtue in such a way that he would not allow anything that is not virtuous to approach his person. Is any one able for one day to apply his strength to virtue? I have not seen the case in which his strength would be insufficient. Should there possibly be such a case, I have not seen it.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. vi.)

  Yet he despairs of constant righteousness; for he says elsewhere: “To subdue one’s self and return to propriety is perfect virtue. If a man for one day subdue himself and return to propriety, all under heaven will ascribe perfect virtue to him.” (Analects, bk. xii., c. i., v. 1.) And likewise: “If a man in the morning hear the right way, he may die in the evening without regret.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. viii.)

  Earnestness. “Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart!” (Shu King, pt. v., bk. ix., 2.)

  These words are ascribed to the illustrious Wu or to Khang, his son. The injunction which Ibsen puts into the mouth of Brand:

  • “Be what thou art, with all thy heart—
  • Not piecemeal, only, and in part!”

  seems but a modern echo, or reaffirmation, of this sentiment of thousands of years ago.

  In the “Shu King,” also, I Yin is made to say: “What attainment can be made without anxious thought? What achievement without earnest effort?” (Pt. iv., bk. vi., sect. iii., 2.)

  Mencius puts it strongly thus: “Now chess-playing is but a small art; but without giving his whole mind to it and bending his will to it, a man cannot excel in it.” (Bk. vi., pt. i., c. ix., v. 3.)

  The absolute sincerity of thought which has been found prerequisite to the acquisition of sound learning, the formation of right desires, and the planning of the art of life, must ripen into earnestness in conduct and candour of speech. Else were it fruitless and unavailing. As much is embraced in this primary injunction of Confucius: “Hold faithfulness and sincerity as first principles!” (Analects, bk. i., c. viii., v. 2.)

  Among the nine things which are with the superior man subjects “of thoughtful consideration,” he includes these: “In regard to his speech, he is anxious that it be sincere. In regard to his doing of business, he is anxious that it should be reverently careful.” (Analects, bk. xvi., c. x.)

  These resulting virtues of speech and action were two of the “four things which the Master taught: Letters, ethics, devotion of spirit, and truthfulness.” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xxiv.) And urgently did he enjoin each of his disciples “to give one’s self earnestly to the duties due to men.” (Analects, bk. vi., c. xx.)

  That this should come naturally and easily, without strain or striving, Mencius says in this: “The great man does not think beforehand of his words that they may be sincere nor of his actions that they may be resolute; he simply speaks and does what is right.” (Bk. iv., pt. ii., c. xi.)

  The opposite Mencius finds in this: “The disease of men is this:—that they neglect their own fields and go to weed the fields of others and that what they require from others is great, while what they lay upon themselves is light.” (Bk. vii., pt. ii., c. xxxii., v. 3.)

  The evil results of uninstructed earnestness in conduct, i. e., earnestness unaccompanied by clear knowledge of what is aimed at, of consequences and causes and of the means by which one’s real ends may be furthered, are set forth in this: “There is the love of being sincere without the love of learning; the beclouding here leads to an injurious disregard of consequences.” (Analects, bk. xvii., c. viii., v. 3.)

  Notwithstanding these obvious limitations, none of which goes to the root and all of which have to do only with what should accompany earnestness and candour, Confucius enjoins both, upon the young as upon the old, as absolutely essential to right-living. Thus of the youth, he says: “He should be earnest and truthful” (Analects, bk. i., c. vi.), and of the superior man: “He who aims at complete virtue . . . is earnest in what he is doing and careful in his speech.” (Analects, bk. i., c. xiv.) “The superior man wishes to be slow in speech and earnest in conduct.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. xxiv.) “What the superior man requires, is just that in his words there may be nothing inaccurate.” (Analects, bk. xiii., c. iii., v. 7.)

  Twice in the “Analects,” although Confucius spoke seldom about “perfect virtue,” he referred, when replying to inquiries on this important subject, especially to sincerity of speech and faithfulness of conduct, the first time briefly thus: “Fan Ch‘e asked about perfect virtue. The Master said, ‘It is in retirement, to be sedately grave; in the management of business, to be reverently attentive; in intercourse with others, to be strictly sincere.’ ” (Analects, bk, xiii., c. xix.)

  The second time, he did not content himself with mere categorical mention, but proceeded to expatiate upon the beneficent results of these virtues, in the following: “Tsze-chang asked Confucius about perfect virtue. Confucius said, ‘To be able to practise five things everywhere under heaven constitutes perfect virtue.’ He begged to inquire what they were, and was told: ‘Gravity, generosity, sincerity, earnestness, and kindness. If you are grave, you will not be treated with disrespect. If you are generous, you will win all. If you are sincere, people will repose trust in you. If you are earnest, you will accomplish much. If you are kind, this will enable you to employ the services of others.’ ” (Analects, bk. xvii., c. vi.)

  These results, he further taught, are independent of time and place and of the state of civilization of those among whom these virtues are practised, for he says: “Let his words be sincere and truthful, and his actions honourable and careful;—such conduct may be practised among the rude tribes of the South or of the North. If his words be not sincere and truthful, and his actions not honourable and careful, will he, with such conduct, be appreciated, even in his own neighbourhood?” (Analects, bk. xv., c. v., v. 2.)

  Humility. “I am not concerned that I have no place; I am concerned how I may fit myself for one. I am not concerned that I am not known; I seek to be worthy to be known.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. xiv.) “I will not be afflicted that men do not know me; I will be afflicted that I do not know men.” (Analects, bk. i., c. xvi.) “I will not be concerned at men’s not knowing me; I will be concerned at my own want of ability.” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xxxii.) “The superior man is distressed by his want of ability; he is not distressed by men’s not knowing him.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xvii.)

  These are but a few of the many expressions in the “Analects” of the spirit of humility which is essential to true self-development. It is not want of self-respect that is here inculcated; but, instead, that poise which demands not the acclaim of others. In the “Yi King” (appendix ii., sect. i., c. xxviii.) it is put thus: “The superior man . . . stands alone and has no fear, and keeps retired from the world without regret.”

  Yet it is also far from encouraging the progress-destroying self-sufficiency of one who disregards others’ opinions because placing too high an estimate upon his own. For in the “Shu King” (pt. iv., bk. vi., 4) the earnest injunction is found, accredited to I Yin: “Do not think yourself so large as to deem others small!”

  And this, also, is found in the “Shu King” (pt. iv., bk. ii., 4): “He who says that others are not equal to himself, comes to ruin.”

  And in the same book (pt. iv., bk. viii., sect. ii., 1) the illustrious Yueh is reported to have said: “Indulging the consciousness of being good is the way to lose that goodness; being vain of one’s ability is the way to lose it.”

  And in its pages also (pt. v., bk. xxvi.) King Mu is made to say of himself, in all humility: “I rise at midnight and think how I can avoid falling into errors.”

  The Duke of Khin, also in the “Shu King” (pt. v., bk. xxx.), thus describes how difficult, albeit salutary, it is to receive, welcome, and apply the reproof of others: “Reproving others is easy, but to receive reproof and allow it free course is difficult.”

  And in the “Li Ki” (bk. ii., sect. ii., pt. iii., 17) the ruinous consequences of false pride are depicted by means of a clever parable, as follows: “It is because I would not eat ‘Poor man, come here!’ food that I am come to this state.”

  In the same book (Li Ki, bk. xxvii., 9) it is related of Confucius: “The Master said, ‘The superior man exalts others and abases himself; he gives the first place to others and takes the last himself.’ ”

  Mencius applied this to himself in this famous colloquy: “The officer Ch‘oo said, ‘Master, the King sent persons to spy out whether you were really different from other men.’ Mencius said, ‘How should I be different from other men? Yaou and Shun were the same as other men.’ ” (Bk. iv., pt. ii., c. xxxii.)

  This also does Confucius teach, that with admiration and appreciation a man should look upon superior men, rejoicing in their virtue, and emulating them; and that, on the contrary, when beholding persons with grave and glaring faults, he is not to rejoice that he is not like unto them, but instead, with deep humility, to search his own heart with microscopic care and remorseless earnestness, lest these very faults or errors be hiding there. Thus he says: “When we see men of worth, we should think of equalling them; when we see men of contrary character, we should turn inward and examine ourselves.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. xvii.)

  The difficulty of doing this, however, he did not minimize, knowing full well how prone the human mind is to justify its own aberrations. Indeed he more than once complained with sadness: “I have not yet seen one who could perceive his faults and inwardly accuse himself.” (Analects, bk. v., c. xxvi.)

  He counselled the greatest possible avoidance of the thought of personal success as a prime consideration of conduct, and inculcated the truth that unless the mind is devotedly bent to the achievement of its own purpose, to the accomplishment of the thing which it designs, the man’s work will not be that which he desired to do but will merely be done in order that men might acclaim him.

  He often emphasized even to a superlative degree the obstacles in the way of the formation of character and of living a well-spent and therefore successful life. Indeed, that this should ever come up to one’s longings, or even to one’s expectations, was, he frequently granted, quite impossible, meaning thereby not that the structure might not be imposing or beautiful, but that it would fall short of that perfect beauty which the mind is able to conjure up before it, and must so imagine to itself if the man is to be kept steadily on the path of progress.

  It is true that in all this there is no departure from the notion that the man should be in fact self-sufficient. It is not the idea of the sage that he should abandon himself to despair but that his mind, beholding clearly and courageously the perfection that he cannot hope to equal, should do all that lies in its power to mould itself after that vision of beauty, which after all is but an imperfect attempt to reconstruct within itself the glories which it cannot fully apprehend. Thus he teaches that one should be at ease about himself, even though others should hold him of no account. This is not meant by Confucius to be mere self-abasement, affected in order to obtain an advantage in coping with others, but a genuine willingness that one’s work be done year in and year out, without being visited with the acclaim of the multitude. He says: “Is he not a man of complete virtue who feels no discomposure though men may take no note of him?” (Analects, bk. i., c. i., v. 3.)

  He thus pays his tribute of praise and appreciation to the great soul who compasses this: “Admirable, indeed, was the virtue of Hwuy! With a single bamboo dish of rice, a single gourd dish of drink, and living in his mean narrow lane, while others could not have endured the distress, he did not allow his joy to be affected by it. Admirable, indeed, was the virtue of Hwuy!” (Analects, bk. vi., c. ix.)

  Aspiration. “The scholar does not deem gold and jade precious, but loyalty and good faith. He does not crave broad lands and possessions, but holds the rectification of himself his domain. He asks not great wealth but looks upon many-sided culture as true riches.” (Li Ki, bk. xxxviii., 6.)

  Thus in the “Li Ki” Confucius indicates that for and unto which man should aspire. It is contrasted thus with the opposite and vainglorious but destructive course: “It is the way of the superior man to prefer the concealment of his virtue while it daily becomes more illustrious, and it is the way of the inferior man to seek notoriety while he daily goes more and more to ruin.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xxxiii., v. 1.)

  And in this passage perhaps even more discriminatingly and finely: “The thing wherein the superior man cannot be equalled is simply this, his work which other men cannot see.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xxxiii., v. 2.)

  Of the path which leads to this and which Confucius trod, it is said in this from the “Doctrine of the Mean,” already once quoted: “It waits for the proper man, and then it is trodden. Hence it is said, ‘Only by perfect virtue can the perfect path in all its courses be realized.’ Therefore the superior man honours his virtuous nature and maintains constant inquiry and study, seeking to carry it out to its breadth and greatness so as to omit none of the most exquisite and minute points which it embraces and to raise it to its greatest height and brilliancy, so as to pursue the course of the mean.” (C. xxvii., v. 4, 5, 6.)

  This is the portrait, considered by Chinese scholars to be that of Confucius, which in a passage from the same book, already once quoted, presents the many-sided character to which men, striving for the right, are to aspire: “It is only he possessed of all sagely qualities that can exist under Heaven, who shows himself quick in apprehension, clear in discernment, of far-reaching intelligence and all-embracing knowledge, fitted to exercise rule; magnanimous, generous, benign, and mild, fitted to exercise forbearance; impulsive, energetic, firm, and enduring, fitted to maintain a firm grasp; self-adjusted, grave, never swerving from the mean and correct, fitted to command reverence; accomplished, distinctive, concentrative, and searching, fitted to exercise discrimination. All embracing is he, and vast, deep, and active as a fountain, sending forth in their due seasons his virtues.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xxxi., v. 1, 2.)

  In the “Li Ki,” in more prosaic but not less striking fashion, the aspirations which are justifiable, honourable, and beneficial for a man are detailed, thus: “There are three things that occasion sorrow to a superior man. If there be a subject of which he has not heard, and he do not hear of it; if he hear of it, and do not come to learn it; if he learn it but have no chance to practise it. There are five things that occasion the superior man humiliation. If in office and unfamiliar with its duties; if familiar with them but not carrying them into practice; if once in office and then dismissed; if in charge of a large territory but not well populated; if anybody with the same duties do better than he.” (Li Ki, bk. xviii., 20.)

  In the “Yi King” (appendix iii., sect. ii., c. v., 37), Confucius sharply contrasts this with the sordid, self-destroying motives of the inferior man, thus: “The inferior man is not ashamed of what is not benevolent nor does he fear to do what is not righteous. Without the prospect of gain he does not stimulate himself to what is good, nor does he correct himself without being moved.”

  The attitude which should be taken toward these incentives, usually so powerful, the sage thus presents: “Riches and honours are what men desire. If it cannot be brought about in the proper way, they should not be held. Poverty and meanness are what men dislike. If it cannot be brought about in the proper way, they should not be avoided.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. v., v. 1.)

  Yet Confucius deemed it self-evidently a desirable thing that one’s merit should be recognized and a thing almost incredible that true merit should go unrecognized. But he urged that this should be regarded as but an incident and not as the object to be aimed at and striven for. Instead, the labour must be primarily to serve one’s fellowman and to develop one’s self. Notoriety and genuine distinction he discussed in the following: “The Master said, ‘What is it you call being distinguished?’ Tsze-chang replied, ‘It is to be heard of through the state, to be heard of through the family.’ The Master said: ‘That is notoriety, not distinction. The man of distinction is substantial and straightforward and loves uprightness. He examines people’s words and looks into their countenances. He is anxious to defer to others. Such a man will be distinguished in the country; he will be distinguished in the family. As to the man of notoriety, he assumes the appearance of virtue but his actions belie it, and he rests in this character without any doubts about himself. Such a man will be heard of in the country; he will be heard of in the family.’ ” (Analects, bk. xii., c. xx.)

  There is one sort of aspiration for fame which Confucius said that he himself did not possess: “To live in obscurity and to practise wonders, in order to be mentioned with honour in future ages—this is what I do not do.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xi., v. 1.)

  Yet it is by no means his opinion that only they who by their virtues deserve to be known or even to be loved, receive the acclaim of the multitude. This but raises the question whether the man is really worthy or has merely deceived and misled the people. Confucius says that it but puts one upon inquiry, thus: “When the multitude hate a man, it is necessary to examine into the case. When the multitude like a man, it is necessary to examine into the case.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xxvii.)

  This he explains more fully at another time in the following colloquy: “Tsze-kung asked, saying, ‘What do you say of a man who is loved by all the people of his village?’ The Master replied, ‘We may not for that accord our approval of him.’ ‘And what do you say of him who is hated by all the people of his village?’ The Master said, ‘We may not for that conclude that he is bad. It is better than either of these cases that the good in the village love him, and the bad hate him.’ ” (Analects, bk. xiii., c. xxiv.)

  Confucius could not enough condemn the doing of any act for the mere purpose of obtaining the approval of men or of winning the laurels of fame. The aim must be the accomplishment of the work or service, itself. This he has said in many passages, among them these: “If doing what is to be done be made the first business and success a secondary consideration, is not this the way to exalt virtue?” (Analects, bk. xii., c. xxi., v. 3.) “In ancient times men learned with a view to their own improvement. Nowadays, men learn with a view to the approbation of others.” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xxv.) “The man of virtue makes the difficulty to be overcome his first business and success only a subsequent consideration.” (Analects, bk. vi., c. xx.)

  The true spirit of the man with an exalted aim he thus depicts: “Though he may be all unknown, unregarded by the world, he feels no regret.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xi., v. 3.)

  In the “Yi King” (appendix iv., sect. i., c. ii., 6) Confucius recurs to it thus: “He occupies a high position without pride and a low position without anxiety.”

  And in the “Li Ki” with greater circumstantiality the indifference and unconcern of the superior man toward mere worldly rewards or failure to obtain them, and his complete immunity from evil result of either of these things, are thus portrayed: “The scholar is not cast down or uprooted by poverty and a mean condition; he is not elated or enervated by riches and an exalted condition.” (Bk. xxxviii., 19.)

  Yet, not utterly is ambition for worldly honours discouraged; for in the “Doctrine of the Mean,” in a passage already once quoted, and which Chinese scholars deem to refer to Confucius himself, the prospect of the man who pursues the path of the mean is thus apostrophized: “Wherever ships and carriages reach, wherever the strength of man penetrates, wherever the heavens overshadow and the earth sustains, wherever the sun and moon shine, wherever frosts and dews fall, all who have blood and breath unfeignedly honour and love him.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xxxi., v. 3.)

  And, although the words, “I desire nothing but rightly to die,” are ascribed to Tsang-tse, when dying (Li Ki, bk. ii., sect. i., pt. i., 18), Confucius himself has said: “The superior man dislikes the thought of his name not being mentioned after his death.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xix.)

  Prudence. “If a man take no thought about what is distant, he will find sorrow near at hand.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xi.)

  In the “Yi King” (appendix iii., sect. ii., c. v., 39), the wisdom of prudence and of foresight, thus vividly presented in the “Analects,” is enforced by the Master in these maxims: “He who keeps danger in mind, is he who will rest safe in his seat; he who keeps ruin in mind, is he who will preserve his interests secure; he who sets the danger of disorder before him, is he who will maintain order.”

  And in the “Shu King” Yueh is represented as urging thoughtful care, by these words: “For all affairs let there be adequate preparation; with preparation there will be no calamitous issue.” (Pt. iv., bk. viii., sect. ii., 1.)

  Of the same nature is this injunction from the “Li Ki” (bk. xv., 22): “Do not commence or abandon anything hastily.”

  Though far from teaching that the aim of the superior man should be the acquisition of wealth, and though insistent upon the view that this depends so much more upon fortune than upon the desert, or even the scheming, of individuals, Confucius, as in the foregoing, pleads always for the use of foresight and prudence in the ordinary affairs of life. Thus he places among the cardinal qualities of the superior man reverent attention to business. (Analects, bk. xvi., c. x.) Yet he rarely discoursed upon this subject nor, indeed, upon the part of Heaven in determining the good or ill fortune which attends man; and that this is not true only of the sayings which have come down to us, is shown by this statement of his disciples: “The subjects of which the Master seldom spoke were: profitableness, also the appointments of Heaven and perfect virtue.” (Analects, bk. ix., c. i.)

  That the sordid pursuit of wealth is to be avoided he indicated in these words already quoted: “Riches and honour are what men desire. If it cannot be brought about in the proper way, they should not be held. Poverty and meanness are what men dislike. If it cannot be brought about in the proper way, they should not be avoided.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. v., v. 1.)

  This he also said again and again, as in this contrast: “The mind of the superior man is conversant with righteousness; the mind of the average man is conversant with gain” (Analects, bk. iv., c. xvi.); and in another place he names as one of the qualities of “the complete man” that, “in view of gain,” he “thinks of righteousness.” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xiii., v. 2.)

  He teaches that “riches and honours depend upon Heaven” (Analects, bk. xii., c. v., v. 3); notwithstanding which, prudence and industry will, in a well-governed country, insure a competence. Wherefore he says: “When a country is well governed, poverty and a mean condition are things to be ashamed of. When a country is ill governed, riches and honour are things to be ashamed of.” (Analects, bk. viii., c. xiii., v. 3.)

  To nothing would his proverb, “To go beyond is as bad as to fall short” (Analects, bk. xi., c. xiv., v. 3), apply more aptly than to expenditure, of which he also sagely remarks (Analects, bk. vii., c. xxxv.): “Extravagance leads to insubordination and parsimony to meanness. It is better to be mean than to be insubordinate”—though, obviously, best of all to be neither.

  As regards the pursuit of wealth, Confucius spoke, for himself, thus: “If the search for riches were sure to be successful, though I should become a groom with whip in hand to get them, I would do so. As the search may not be successful, I will pursue that which I desire.” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xi.)

  Resignation to the appointments of Heaven in this regard, and the greater desirability that more worthy ambitions be dominant, are urged in this striking passage: “There is Hwuy! He has nearly attained to perfect virtue. He is often in want.” (Analects, bk. xi., c. xviii.)

  That riches is not that to which the soul of the superior man aspires, he affirms in these words, already quoted in another connection: “The superior man is anxious lest he should not get truth; he is not anxious lest poverty should come upon him.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xxxi.)

  This version of “Riches takes unto itself wings” is given by the commentator in “The Great Learning”: “Wealth, got by improper means, will take its departure in the same way.” (C. x., v. 10.)

  Among the “three things which the superior man guards against,” he names avarice, saying: “In youth, when the physical powers are not yet settled, he guards against lust. When he is strong, and the physical powers are full of vigour, he guards against quarrelsomeness. When he is old, and the animal powers are decayed, he guards against covetousness.” (Analects, bk. xvi., c. vii.)

  Though duties, corresponding to their ill fortune or good fortune, rest upon the poor and upon the rich, Confucius deems it much harder for the impoverished man to possess his soul and act according to propriety; of this he says: “To be poor without murmuring is difficult. To be rich without pride is easy.” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xi.)

  The imprudence, not to speak of the immorality, of acting in a purely selfish manner, is shown in this: “He who acts with a constant view to his own advantage will be much murmured against.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. xii.)

  This, however, is not limited to financial dealings, but applies as well to all other exactions; as to which the sage shrewdly observes: “He who requires much from himself and little from others, will keep himself from being the object of resentment.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xiv.)

  It is also the part of prudence as early as possible to guard against speech and conduct which cause dislike; for, as the sage somewhat sweepingly asserts: “When a man at forty is the object of dislike, he will always continue what he is.” (Analects, bk. xvii., c. xxvi.)

  The same idea, but a different application of it, is presented in this wise saying from the “Shu King” (pt. v., bk. xxi., 2) attributed to King Khang: “Seek not every quality in one individual!”

  And this vivid picture of the foredoomed failure of the ambitious but imprudent man Confucius gives in the “Yi King” (appendix iii., sect. ii., c. v., v. 40): “Virtue small and office high; wisdom small and plans great; strength small and burden heavy—where such conditions exist, it is seldom they do not end in evil.”

  The necessity for unflinching self-examination before engaging in any important undertaking or assuming any heavy obligation, not merely as a matter of personal honesty, but also as a matter of prudence, is thus enjoined in the “Li Ki” in a passage already quoted: “For one who wished to serve his ruler, the rule was first to measure his abilities and duties and then enter on the responsibilities; he did not first enter and then measure. The same rule applied when one begged or borrowed from others or sought to enter their service.” (Bk. xv., 19.)

  And in the “Yi King” (appendix ii., c. xxxiii., v. 4) this caution and this self-restraint are thus appreciated: “A superior man retires, notwithstanding his likings; an average man cannot attain to it.”

  This sketch of the superior man is elaborated further in the following passage in the “Analects”: “He who aims to be a man of complete virtue, in his food does not seek to gratify his appetite, nor in his dwelling-place does he seek the appliances of ease; he is earnest in what he is doing, and careful in his speech; he frequents the company of men of principle that he may be rectified.” (Analects, bk. i., c. xiv.)

  Prudence is, of course, merely the application of the same calm clear-sightedness and study of cause and effect, which the sage enjoins as the very foundation of the investigation of phenomena, upon which in turn the entire superstructure of the art of life rests. To what advantage does one refuse to recognize the stubborn facts, whether as regards himself or as regards others? Or as the sage phrases it: “Who can go out but by the door? How is it that men will not walk according to these ways?” (Analects, bk. vi., c. xv.)

  The need of patience and thoroughness he also repeatedly inculcates, as in this: “Do not be desirous of having things done quickly; do not look at small advantages! Desire to have things done quickly prevents their being done thoroughly. Looking at small advantages prevents great things being accomplished.” (Analects, bk. xiii., c. xvii.)

  And the slow but solid achievement which attends this course is thus portrayed: “The way of the superior man may be compared with what takes place in travelling, when to go to a distance we must first traverse the space that is near and when in ascending a height we must first begin from the lower ground.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xv., v. 1.)

  CHAPTER III

  GENERAL HUMAN RELATIONS

  After instruction in self-development, men need to know their relation to their fellows. First in importance of our social duties, and intimately connected with individual character, Confucius placed propriety.

  The Rules of Propriety. “Let the superior man never fail reverentially to order his own conduct; and let him be respectful to others and observant of propriety. Then all within the four seas will be his brothers.” (Analects, bk. xii., c. v., v. 4.)

  Thus Confucius in the “Analects” emphasizes the importance of the due observance of propriety. The rules of propriety were, in the mind of the sage, of much the same order as the positive commands which make up the ordinary man’s only system of morality. They were the things enjoined, which the superior man must observe, not in order to become or even to be a superior man, however, but because he is such. Therefore it is said: “If a man be without the virtues proper to humanity, what has he to do with the rites of propriety?” (Analects, bk. iii., c. iii.)

  Yet propriety has its office, also, and that not a small one, albeit the real character, the open mind, sincerity, purity of purpose, will, courage, poise, and all the rest, must first have been attained; else mere outward conformity with propriety is nothing. Its office is thus described: “It is by the rules of propriety that the character is established.” (Analects, bk. viii., c. viii., v. 2.) “Without an acquaintance with the rules of propriety, it is impossible for the character to be established.” (Analects, bk. xx., c. iii., v. 3.)

  This is indeed sufficiently obvious upon consideration since character can be evinced only in speech, conduct, deportment, and demeanour, each of which must have its own canons of propriety. The utility of these rules in this respect is adverted to in the “Li Ki,” thus: “The rules of propriety serve as instruments to form men’s characters. . . . They remove from a man all perversity and increase what is beautiful in his nature. They make him correct, when employed in the ordering of himself; they ensure for him free course, when employed toward others.” (Bk. viii., sect. i., 1.)

  In another place in the “Li Ki,” the following is said concerning the depraved state of men who have no conception of propriety: “But if beasts and without the rules of propriety, father and son might have the same mate.” (Bk. i., sect. i., pt. i., c. v., v. 21.)

  And in yet another place in that book the following tribute to the superlative utility of propriety and especially to its usefulness in forming character appears: “Therefore the rules of propriety are for man what the yeast is for liquor. By the use of them the superior man becomes better and greater. The inferior man by neglect of them becomes smaller and poorer. (Bk. vii., sect. iv., v. 7.)

  Mencius thus laid bare the very foundation for the sense of propriety: “The sense of shame is of great importance to man.” (Bk. vii., pt. i., c. vii., v. 1.)

  The Chinese tradition was that the rules of propriety had been established by the ancient kings and embodied their conception of right. The following account, also in the “Li Ki,” which is devoted to a discussion of these rules, is given, both of their origin and of their construction: “The rules as instituted by the ancient kings had their radical element and their outward, elegant form. A true heart and good faith are their radical element. The characteristics of each according to the idea of what is right in it are its outward, elegant form. Without the radical element, they could not have been established; without the elegant form, they could not have been put in practice.” (Bk. viii., sect. i., v. 2.)

  That an observance is to be judged, not only by its general acceptance as “good form,” but also and, if need be, exclusively by what is right, is urged in this passage from the same book: “Rules of ceremony are the embodied expression of what is right. If an observance stand the test of being judged by the standard of what is right, although it may not have been among the usages of the ancient kings, it may be adopted on the ground of its being right.” (Bk. vii., sect. iv., v. 9.)

  Mencius thus rebuked the notion, yet prevalent in more than one quarter, that mere “good form” is propriety although it be the cover for wanton cruelty and wrong: “Acts of propriety which are not proper and deeds of righteousness that are not righteous, the great man does not do.” (Bk. iv., pt. ii., c. vi.)

  The untoward consequences, if the rights of propriety are neglected, are strikingly set forth by Confucius in these words: “Respectfulness, without the rules of propriety, becomes laborious bustle; carefulness, without the rules of propriety, becomes timidity; boldness, without the rules of propriety, becomes insubordination; straightforwardness, without the rules of propriety, becomes rudeness.” (Analects, bk. viii., c. ii., v. 1.)

  Several of the nine things which he names as worthy “of thoughtful consideration” are of this nature. The pronouncement, already once quoted, will bear repetition: “The superior man has nine things which are subjects with him of thoughtful consideration: In regard to the use of his eyes he is anxious to see clearly. In regard to the use of his ears he is anxious to hear distinctly. In regard to his countenance he is anxious that it should be benign. In regard to his demeanour he is anxious that it should be respectful. In regard to his speech he is anxious that it should be sincere. In regard to his doing of business he is anxious that it should be reverently careful. In regard to what he doubts about he is anxious to question others. When he is angry he thinks of the difficulties his anger may involve him in. When he sees gain to be got he thinks of righteousness.” (Analects, bk. xvi., c. x.)

  In another place he says: “If you are grave, you will not be treated with disrespect; if you are generous, you will win all; if you are sincere, people will repose trust in you; if you are in earnest, you will accomplish much; if you are kind, this will enable you to employ the services of others.” (Analects, bk. xvii., c. vi.)

  Each of these has reference to a rule of propriety.

  Again, when asked what constitutes perfect virtue, he said: “It is in retirement to be sedately grave, in the management of business to be reverently attentive, in intercourse with others to be strictly sincere.” (Analects, bk. xiii., c. xix.)

  Among the repulsive characters which he holds it the duty of the superior man to hate, is this: “He hates those who have valour merely and are unobservant of propriety.” (Analects, bk. xvii., c. xxiv., v. 1.)

  Perhaps in nothing are the real qualities of a man more frankly exhibited than in his conduct toward those who are subject to his orders and must obey him. The petty tyrannies which the small mind invents under such conditions are familiar to every observer, but few have had the penetration to discern what Confucius illustrates in the following passage: “The superior man is easy to serve and difficult to please. If you try to please him in any way which is not accordant with right, he will not be pleased. But in his employment of men he uses them according to their capacity. The inferior man is difficult to serve, and easy to please. If you try to please him, though it be in a way which is not accordant with right, he may be pleased. But in his employment of men he wishes them to be equal to everything.” (Analects, bk. xiii., c. xxv.)

  This is but a shrewd practical application of this observation from the “Li Ki”: “Propriety is seen in humbling one’s self and giving honours to others.” (Bk. i., sect. i., pt. i., c. vi., v. 25.)

  But this humility must be such as comports with true dignity; for, as the Duke of Shao says in the “Shu King” (pt. v., bk. vi., 2): “Complete virtue allows no contemptuous familiarity.”

  This combination of humility and dignity, which has ever characterized the Chinese conception of propriety, is cleverly adverted to in these significant and weighty sentences: “Gan P’ing Chung knew well how to maintain friendly intercourse. The acquaintance might be long, but he showed the same respect as at first.” (Analects, bk. v., c. xvi.)

  This combination of humility and dignity is yet more pointedly and convincingly outlined in this pithy sentence: “Condemning none, courting none, what can he do that is not good?” (Analects, bk. ix., c. xxvi., v. 2.)

  Though Confucius was so insistent that his disciples should learn and practise the refinements of polite behaviour, he held the balance even, and at all times urged the greater importance of the real things of character. Complete sanity is in these discerning sentences: “Where the solid qualities are in excess of the accomplishments, we have rusticity; where the accomplishments are in excess of the solid qualities, we have the manners of a clerk; when the accomplishments and solid qualities are equally blended, we then have the man of complete virtue.” (Analects, bk. vi., c. xvi.)

  In the “Li Ki” the urgent need that one give reverent attention to propriety is thus phrased: “The superior man watches over the manner in which he maintains his intercourse with other men.” (Bk. viii., sect. ii., v. 14.)

  It is, however, not desirable that over-emphasis be laid upon unimportant details; for as Tsze-hea says in the “Analects”: “When a person does not transgress the boundary-line of the great virtues, he may pass and repass it in the small virtues.” (Analects, bk. xix., c. xi.)

  There is, notwithstanding, something near to vehemence in this urgent adjuration that propriety is on no account to be neglected either in passive or in active moments: “Look not at what is contrary to propriety; listen not to what is contrary to propriety; speak not what is contrary to propriety; make no movement which is contrary to propriety!” (Analects, bk. xii., c. i., v. 2.)

  This glowing picture of what the superior man, conversant with propriety and following its rules with discernment, sympathy, and enthusiasm, may become, already quoted from the “Doctrine of the Mean,” is so illuminating in this connection that it is here repeated: “The superior man does what is proper to the station in which he is; he does not desire to go beyond this. In a position of wealth and honour he does what is proper to a position of wealth and honour; in a poor and low position, he does what is proper to a poor and low position; situated among barbarous tribes he does what is proper to a situation among barbarous tribes; in a position of sorrow and difficulty, he does what is proper to a position of sorrow and difficulty.

  “The superior man can find himself in no position in which he is not himself. In a high situation he does not treat with contempt his inferiors, in a low situation he does not court the favour of his superiors; he rectifies himself, and seeks for nothing from others, so that he has no dissatisfaction.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xiv.)

  The influence and the value of such a man to his community he thus rates, when told that the tribes of the East, with whom he purposes to live, are rude: “If a superior man lived among them, what rudeness would there be?” (Analects, bk. ix., c. xiii., v. 2.)

  Propriety of Demeanour. “Always and in everything let there be reverence, with the demeanour grave as when one is thinking deeply and with speech composed and definite.” (Li Ki, bk. i., sect. i., pt. i., c. i.) “If the heart be for a moment without the feeling of harmony and joy, meanness and deceitfulness enter it. If the outward demeanour be for a moment without gravity and reverence, indifference and rudeness show themselves.” (Li Ki, bk. xxi., sect. ii., 8.)

  These two passages from the “Li Ki” illustrate the high estimate which the Chinese justly placed upon the value of grave demeanour. The idea is that between two superior men there is a communion of souls and a commerce one with another which results inevitably from virtuous purposes, high resolves, and the reflection of these in the attitude of one toward the other. This association the superior man values not merely for the opportunities for benevolence and influence which it affords, but also for that which it means for himself as well.

  It was not for nothing that the Greek poets located the gods aloof from one another on the peaks of mountains, silent for the most part though in communion each with the others, and breaking the silence only when concerns of great import called for expression.

  It is something like this which Confucius sets before the superior man, as the ideal. It is for this reason that he strongly affirms that the superior man should be grave and serious. Of this he says: “If the scholar be not grave, he will not call forth veneration, and his learning will not be solid.” (Analects, bk. i., c. viii.)

  By manners, it is almost needless to say, he did not mean anything at all similar to the mere gloss of one who is conversant with the rules of social behaviour, and who adroitly manipulates them to please this person or vent his spite on that; for one of his aptest texts runs: “Fine words and an insinuating appearance are seldom associated with true virtue.” (Analects, bk. i., c. iii.)

  Mencius thus illustrates the reward for frank demeanour and the sure detection of the contrary: “Of all the parts of a man’s body there is none more excellent than the pupil of the eye. The pupil cannot hide a man’s wickedness. If within the breast all be correct, the pupil is bright. If within the breast all be not correct, the pupil is dull. Listen to a man’s words and look at the pupil of his eye. How can a man conceal his character?” (Bk. iv., pt. i., c. xv.)

  This concerning the demeanour of Confucius is related in the “Analects”: “The Master was mild but dignified; commanding but not fierce; respectful but easy.” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xxxvii.)

  Tsze-hea in the “Analects” thus depicts the demeanour of the superior man: “Looked at from a distance, he appears stern; when approached, he is mild; when he is heard to speak, his language is firm and decided.” (Analects, bk. xix., c. ix.)

  In another place Confucius contrasts the poise of the superior man with the pose of the man with low ideals, the one dignified without being conscious of it, the other constantly striving to show that control over himself and confidence in himself which he really does not possess. But the idea is better apprehended from the sage’s own words: “The superior man has dignified ease without pride; the ordinary man has pride without dignified ease.” (Analects, bk. xiii., c. xxvi.)

  Propriety of Deportment. “It is virtuous manners which constitute the excellence of a neighbourhood. If a man in selecting a residence do not fix upon one where such prevail, how can he be wise?” (Analects, bk. iv., c. i.)

  These words of the sage, taken from the “Analects,” are characteristic. Confucius is more frequently accused of paying too much attention to propriety in manners than too little. Undoubtedly, he did place great stress both upon ceremonies and upon manners, but more upon the spirit that should inform them. How significant the ceremonies may have been in view of the traditions and customs of the people, it is impossible for men of this age living in Western countries to divine. But the canons of good manners which Confucius set up, although subjected to most critical examination, are found to be universal in scope and quite as valid today and in Western countries as in his day and in the East.

  How universal and permanent they are, may be seen from this, taken from the “Li Ki”: “Do not listen with head inclined on one side nor answer with a loud, sharp voice, nor look with a dissolute leer nor keep the body in a slouching position. Do not saunter about with a haughty gait nor stand with one foot raised. Do not sit with your knees wide apart nor lie face down.” (Bk. i., sect. i., pt. iii., c. iv.)

  This from the same book is so advanced that even in these modern days men in civilized Occidental countries have barely commenced to apprehend it: “When he intends to go to an inn, let it not be with the feeling that he must have whatever he asks for!” (Bk. i., sect. i., pt. ii., c. v., v. 2, 3.)

  Undoubtedly he attached great importance to manners, in part because his whole system was one of breeding. It was his notion that a man should care about himself and therefore that his behaviour should comport with his real dignity and his sense of dignity.

  One who so earnestly urged the necessity for absolute sincerity could scarcely be expected to praise that social polish which is both an affectation and a lie. He draws, indeed, a sharp distinction between the superior man, who is approachable and far from distant in manner but avoids flattery, and the man who behaves with hauteur, intended to wound and embarrass, toward all but those into whose favour he would ingratiate himself. He places them thus in contrast: “The superior man is affable but not adulatory; the inferior man is adulatory but not affable.” (Analects, bk. xiii., c. xxiii.)

  That by propriety in deportment is not meant subserviency, Confucius shows by his reply, when asked by his disciple, Tsze-loo, how a sovereign should be served: “Do not impose upon him, and moreover withstand him to his face.” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xxiii.) This counsel, it is worth remarking, was given by one who was the instructor of princes.

  How minute, accurate, and well-taken were the rules of behaviour which he laid down is well illustrated by the following passages from the “Li Ki”: “In all cases, looks directed up into the face denote pride, below the girdle grief, askance villainy.” (Bk. i., sect. ii., pt. iii., c. vii.) “When a thing is carried with both hands, it should be held on a level with the heart; when with one hand, on a level with the girdle.” (Bk. i., sect. ii., pt. i., c. i., v. 1.) “When sitting by a person of rank, if he begin to yawn and stretch himself, to turn round his tablet, to play with the head of his sword, to move his shoes about, or to ask about the time of day, one may ask leave to retire.” (Bk. xv., 18.)

  From a volume upon human conduct which betrays so fine and discriminating penetration, it is not surprising that we may cull so choice an expression of good taste as this: “For great entertainments there should be . . . no great display of wealth.” (Bk. i., sect. ii., pt. iii., c. ix.)

  This acute perception of the most delicate distinctions was evidenced no more strongly, perhaps, in any of the marvellous sentences which have come down to this generation than in the following: “Of all people, girls and servants are the most difficult to behave to. If you are familiar with them, they lose their humility; if you maintain a reserve toward them, they are discontented.” (Analects, bk. xvii., c. xxv.)

  That youth, or rather childhood, is the period when development of character and therefore of deportment should commence, is ever in his thought. That the son should admire and imitate his father, and the father should make of himself a human being whom the son, without surrendering his power to see things as they are, might admire and imitate, was fundamental in the Confucian conception of the art of living.

  Whatever indicated the contrary of admiration and respect of a son for his father was to him as to all right-minded men offensive and disgusting. He characterizes such a boy: “In youth not humble as befits a junior” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xlvi.), and later excoriates him in the following burning sentences: “I observe that he is fond of occupying the seat of a full-grown man. I observe that he walks shoulder to shoulder with his elders. He is not one who is seeking to make progress in learning. He wishes quickly to become a man.” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xlvii., v. 2.)

  That this might be avoided and that the manner as well as the purposes of the son might be directed into other and better channels, one of his disciples placed this requirement upon the father, whose parenthood vests him with responsibility for the manners of his offspring: “I have also heard that the superior man maintains a distant reserve toward his son.” (Analects, bk. xvi., c. xiii., v. 5.)

  Not one of the foregoing is inapplicable to the regrettable incivility of children in this buoyant but inconsiderate age; and surely no others are so sorely needed in these days of flippant disrespect for elders as these trenchant exposures of the inherent badness of the manners of Oriental youths of olden times.

  It remained for Mencius to lay down the following obviously correct rule for the association of friends: “Friendship should be maintained without condescension on the ground of age, station, or family. Friendship with a man is friendship with his virtue and does not admit of assumptions of superiority.” (Bk. v., pt. ii., c. iii., v. 1.)

  The views of the sage as to what constitutes the true spirit of polite deportment seem always to square with the maturest judgment of the most recent authorities. What trained gentleman of any school will fail to recognize, with a thrill of satisfaction, this expression of the fundamentally correct notion of sportsmanship, observable according to his disciples in the conduct of Confucius himself: “The Master angled, but did not use a net; he shot, but not at birds perching.” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xxvi.)

  Propriety of Speech. “They who meet men with smartness of speech, for the most part procure themselves hatred.” (Analects, bk. v., c. iv., v. 2.)

  That one should be most circumspect about his speech, Tsze-kung enforces, also in the “Analects,” by saying: “For one word a man is often deemed to be wise and for one word he is often deemed to be foolish.” (Bk. xix., c. xxv., v. 2.)

  And especially that he should be cautious about making rash promises, Confucius thus enjoins: “He who speaks without modesty, will find it hard to make his words good.” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xxi.)

  The same idea is more fully and explicitly developed in this passage of the “Li Ki”: “The Master said: ‘Dislike and reprisals will attend him whose promises from the lips do not ripen into fulfilment. Therefore the superior man incurs rather the resentment due to refusal than the charge of breaking his promise.’ ” (Bk. xxix., 49.)

  The need for caution in giving commands is urged in these apt words from the “Shu King” (pt. v., bk. xx., 4): “Be careful in the commands you issue; for, once issued, they must be carried into effect and cannot be retracted.” And yet more generally, emphatically, and powerfully the reason for caution in speech in this striking passage of the “Shi King,” already quoted in another connection: “A flaw in a mace of white jade may be ground away, but a word spoken amiss cannot be mended.” (Major Odes, decade iii., ode 2.)

  The limits of proper admonition of a friend and the reasons therefor, Confucius also indicates thus: “Faithfully admonish your friend and try to lead him kindly. If you find him impracticable, stop; do not disgrace yourself!” (Analects, bk. xii., c. xxiii.)

  This proverb furnishes yet another reason for great moderation in that respect: “Those whose courses are different cannot lay plans for one another.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xxxix.)

  This also, which the “Analects” puts into the mouth of a madman, fixes the limits both of reproof and of the utility of reference to the past: “As to the past, reproof is useless, but the future may be provided against.” (Bk. xviii., c. v., v. 1.)

  Confucius dwells upon the same idea in another place: “Things that are done, it is needless to speak about; things that have had their course, it is needless to remonstrate about; things that are past, it is needless to blame.” (Analects, bk. iii., c. xxi., v. 2.)

  That one must watch carefully, lest he be misled by fair words, the sage shows, referring to his own experience: “At first, my way with men was to hear their words and give them credit for their conduct. Now my way is to hear their words and look at their conduct.” (Analects, bk. v., c. ix., v. 2.)

  Simplicity and directness of discourse are commended in all that Confucius says of sincerity of thought, candour of speech, and earnestness of conduct; but he rarely, if ever, put it better than in the following (Analects, bk. xvi., c. xl.): “In language it is sufficient that it convey the meaning”—i. e., the precise meaning, not something other than what seems to be said or variant from it. To this, also, the sage refers, though to the part of the listener, rather than that of the speaker, when he says: “Without knowing the force of words, it is impossible to know men.” (Analects, bk. xx., c. iii., v. 3.) That is, one must accurately understand what a man says, though it is, of course, necessary to look beneath the mere words in many cases in order to discover the true character of the man. To this, also, the sage gives expression thus: “The virtuous will be sure to speak aright; but not all whose speech is good are virtuous.” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. v.)

  In the “Li Ki,” this is said of the superior men of old: “They did not peer into privacies nor form intimacies in matters aside from their proper business. They did not speak of old affairs nor wear an appearance of being in sport.” (Bk. xv., 20.)

  And the urgent reasons for care in speaking of important matters are thus presented in the “Yi King” (appendix iii., sect. i., c. viii., 47): “If important matters in the germ be not kept secret, that will be injurious to their accomplishment. Therefore the superior man is careful to maintain secrecy and does not allow himself to speak.”

  Regarding candour it was well said, not alone of worldly success, but yet more of self-development: “I know not how a man without truthfulness is to get on.” (Analects, bk. ii., c. xxii.)

  The craven character of deceit he often indicated and strongly condemned, as in these pregnant sentences: “Fine words, an insinuating appearance, and excessive respect; Tso-k‘ew Ming was ashamed of them. I also am ashamed of them. To conceal resentment against a person and appear friendly with him; Tso-k‘ew Ming was ashamed of such conduct. I also am ashamed of it.” (Analects, bk. v., c. xxiv.)

  The contempt with which such conduct is to be regarded, is thus described in the “Li Ki”: “The Master said, ‘The superior man does not merely look benign as if, while cold at heart, he could feign affection. That is of the inferior man and stamps him as no better than the sneak thief.”’ (Bk. xxix., 50.)

  However covert such dissimulation may be, Confucius finds it equally reprehensible and degrading. Thus, again in the “Li Ki” it is written: “The Master said, ‘When on light grounds a man breaks off his friendship with the poor, and only on weighty grounds with the rich and influential, his love of merit must be small and his contempt for meanness is not seen.’ ” (Bk. xxx., 21.)

  And in the same book the more elusive hypocrisy of decrying what a man himself indulges in, is discovered and condemned, thus: “To disapprove of the conduct of another and yet to do the same himself, is contrary to the rule of instruction.” (Bk. xxii., 12.)

  Here is yet another unflattering picture, taken from the “Analects,” of the unhappy and most undesirable state of the dissembler who is keeping up appearances: “Having not and yet affecting to have, empty and yet affecting to be full, straitened and yet affecting to be at ease, it is difficult with such characteristics to have constancy.” (Bk. vii., c. xxv., v. 3.)

  And here a picture of yet another type of man, going about deceiving himself, rather than others, because what he is shows through: “Ardent and yet not upright; stupid and yet not attentive; simple and yet not sincere: such persons I do not understand.” (Analects, bk. viii., c. xvi.)

  That such dissimulation must ever be unsuccessful in the end, Confucius asserted in many places, in no other perhaps more persuasively than in this: “See what a man does! Mark his motives! Examine in what things he rests! How can a man conceal his character?” (Analects, bk. ii., c. x.)

  Or in this from “The Great Learning” (c. vi., v. 2): “There is no evil to which the inferior man, dwelling retired, will not proceed; but when he sees a superior man, he instantly tries to disguise himself, concealing his evil and displaying what is good. The other beholds him, as if he saw his heart and reins; of what use is his disguise? This is an instance of that saying, ‘What truly is within will be manifested without.’ ”

  That without being continually on his guard and therefore constantly the slave of suspicion, the superior man, with his own mind open and sincere, should readily detect the attempt to delude him, however cleverly designed and executed, Confucius advanced as follows: “He who does not anticipate attempts to deceive him, nor think beforehand of his not being believed, and yet apprehends these things readily when they occur, is he not a man of superior worth?” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xxxiii.)

  That the chief peril is to him who would deceive others, that is, that he will himself deceive, Confucius says in this: “Specious words confound virtue.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xxvi.)

  Precisely as in all else, none the less, it is in earnestness and candour possible to go to excess; in this as in everything, to go too far is as bad as to fall short. Thus there are hidden things of life, intimate relations, tender ties, too private and sacred to be talked of. Of such, it is said: “I hate those who make secrets known and think that they are straightforward.” (Analects, bk. xvii., c. xxiv.)

  Candour may thus degenerate into indiscreet chattering. Obviously, when directed at the faults of others, it may also become incivility, unless tempered by considerate good-will and training in deportment. They, for instance, who would push their requirements as to frankness to a prohibition of the polite evasion, “Mr. So-and-so is not at home,” will find little encouragement in the following revelations as to the ancient custom upon similar occasions, with which Confucius complied, as with all other ceremonies, such constituting a language of their own: “Joo Pei wished to see Confucius, but Confucius declined to see him on the ground of being ill. When the bearer of this message went out at the door, he took the harpsichord and sang to it, in order that Pei might hear him.” (Analects, bk. xvii. c. xx.)

  Mencius thus characterizes both the impropriety and the injudiciousness of over-candour: “What future misery do they have and ought they to have, who talk of what is not good in others!” (Bk. iv., pt. ii., c. ix.)

  Confucius puts this in two ways, each illustrative of something which is wanting when such takes place: “There is the love of straightforwardness without the love of learning; the beclouding here leads to rudeness.” (Analects, bk. xvii., c. viii., v. 3.) “Straightforwardness, without the rules of propriety, becomes rudeness.” (Analects, bk. viii., c. ii., v. 1.)

  Propriety of Conduct. “What I do not wish men to do to me, I also wish not to do to men.” (Analects, bk. v., c. xi.)

  This text from the “Analects” of Confucius is more widely known among English-speaking people than is any other; and is very generally understood to be a merely colourless, negative phase of the Golden Rule.

  But even in the days of Confucius it had developed into a standard for human conduct, broad and of general application. Thus, when Tszekung asked, “Is there any one word which may serve as a rule of practice for all one’s life?” the Master replied: “Is not ‘Reciprocity’ such a word? What you do not want done to yourself, do not do to others!” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xxiii.)

  This is far indeed from being all that Confucius says upon the subject; for in “The Great Learning” (c. x., v. 10) is found this extended and thorough exposition of his views: “What a man dislikes in those who are over him, let him not display toward those who are under him; what he dislikes in those who are under him, let him not display toward those who are over him! What he hates in those who are ahead of him, let him not therewith precede those who are behind him; and what he hates in those who are behind him, let him not therewith pursue those who are ahead of him! What he hates to receive upon the right, let him not bestow upon the left; and what he hates to receive upon the left, let him not bestow upon the right! This is called the standard, by which, as by a measuring square, to regulate one’s conduct.”

  Confucius, indeed, put the performance of the duties due to one’s fellowman above all other duties, except that of self-development, with which he found it to be in no way inconsistent. Thus he placed it far above the duty of ancestor communion—miscalled “worship” by Occidentals—then as now the prevailing religious ceremony in China, in a memorable colloquy with one of his disciples: “Ke Loo asked about serving the spirits of the dead. The Master said: ‘While you are not able to serve men, how can you serve spirits?’ ” (Analects, bk. xi., c. xi.)

  The same, in a slightly different form, he repeated at another time, saying: “To give one’s self earnestly to the duties due to men, and, while respecting spiritual beings, to keep aloof from them, may be called wisdom.” (Analects, bk. vi., c. xx.)

  The philosophy of human service and of duty to others, as a necessary means of self-development, was surely never better expressed than in these words: “Now the man of perfect virtue, wishing to be confirmed himself, confirms others; wishing to be enlarged himself, enlarges others.” (Analects, bk. vi., c. xxviii., v. 2.)

  The contrast between this obviously correct rule of human conduct and the unedifying spectacle of the brutal struggle for success which marks and mars the picture of modern business and social life, renders this moral enlightenment of the highest importance to men of the here and now. Confucius phrases it, however, even more beautifully and with added meaning, thus: “The superior man seeks to develop the admirable qualities of men and does not seek to develop their evil qualities. The inferior man does the opposite of this.” (Analects, bk. xii., c. xvi.)

  In the “Li Ki,” Tsang-tsze is represented as saying with his failing breath, when death had come upon him: “The superior man loves on grounds of virtue; the inferior man’s love appears in his indulgence.” (Bk. ii., sect. i., pt. i., 18.)

  Mencius indicates, however, the limitations of this, namely, that one should not be urging that excellence of conduct upon others which he indulgently neglects himself: “The evil of men is that they like to be teachers of others.” (Bk. iv., pt. i., c. xxiii.)

  The discriminating and judicial character of the superior man’s respect and regard for others is well put in the “Li Ki,” thus: “Men of talents and virtue can be familiar with others and yet respect them; can stand in awe of others and yet love them. They can love others and yet recognize the evil that is in them.” (Bk. i., sect. i., pt. i., c. iii.)

  And Confucius has said in the “Analects”: “Pih-e and Shuh-ts‘e did not keep the former wickedness of men in mind, and hence the resentments directed towards them were few.” (Analects, bk. v., c. xxii.)

  The same sentiment of broad charity the sage displays in this declaration of his own personal policy: “If a man purify himself to wait upon me, I receive him, so purified, without endorsing his past conduct.” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xxviii., v. 2.)

  Confucius did not, however, concur in the view that charity should be so all-embracing as utterly to lose sight of distinctions between men. On the contrary he sturdily reprobated that notion. He often urged the recognition of the special ties of kinship and of friendship, as thus in the “Li Ki”: “I have heard that relatives should not forget their relationship nor friends their friendship.” (Bk. ii., sect. ii., pt. iii., 24.)

  And in the “Yi King” (Appendix iii., sect. i., c. viii., v. 43) appears this beautiful tribute to friendship by Confucius:

  • “This in public office toils;
  • That at home the time beguiles;
  • One his lips with silence seals,
  • One his inmost soul reveals.
  • But when two are one at heart,
  • Bolts will not keep them apart;
  • Words they in communion use
  • Orchids’ fragrances diffuse.”

  In the time of Confucius, the religious teacher, Lao Tsze, was laying the foundations of Taoism, the most widely resorted to of all the forms of worship of Chinese origin other than reverence for and communion with departed ancestors. Lao Tsze urged the validity of the rule of conduct: “Love thine enemies!” Inquiry was made of Confucius regarding this, resulting in the following dialogue: “Some one said, ‘What do you say concerning the principle that injury should be recompensed with kindness?’ The Master said: ‘With what then will you recompense kindness? Recompense injury with justice and recompense kindness with kindness!’ ” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xxxvi.)

  Confucius also went much further than this; for he taught that there is a duty to hate men who evince certain evil traits of character, wherever found, and that this duty is as binding as the other. He says (Analects, bk. iv., c. iii.): “It is only the truly virtuous man who can love, or who can hate, others,” by which it is understood that he who is not of virtuous purpose loves only in order that he may selfishly enjoy, and hates on personal grounds; while the virtuous man loves because he finds that which should be loved, and in order to bless, and also hates that which is worthy of hate and not because of any personal offence.

  In the following colloquy are a few specimens of the courses of conduct which one is privileged to hate, as Confucius sees it:

  “Tsze-kung said, ‘Has the superior man his hatreds also?’ The Master said: ‘He has his hatreds. He hates those who proclaim evil in others. He hates the man who, being of a low station, slanders his superiors. He hates those who have valour merely and are unobservant of the rules of propriety. He hates those who are forward and determined and, at the same time, of contracted understanding.’

  “The Master then inquired, ‘Tsze, have you also your hatreds?’ Tsze-kung replied: ‘I hate those who pry out matters and ascribe the knowledge to their wisdom. I hate those who are only not modest and think that they are brave. I hate those who reveal secrets and think that they are straightforward.’ ” (Analects, bk. xvii., c. xxiv.)

  In another place, he has said: “I hate those who with their sharp tongues overthrow kingdoms and families.” (Analects, bk. xvii., c. xviii.)

  Yet Confucius said that a youth “should overflow with love for all.” (Analects, bk. i., c. vi.)

  The policy, even the necessity, for this course is thus indicated in the “Shu King”: “To evoke love, one must love; to evoke respect, one must respect.” (Pt. iv., bk. iv., 2.)

  And Confucius was so far from intending that what he said of hatred for the wrong-doer should be interpreted as merely rancorous dislike of an unfortunate human being, the victim of evil influences, that, when asked by Fan-Ch‘e about benevolence, he replied: “It is to love all men.” (Analects, bk. xii., c. xxii., v. 1.)

  Propriety of Example. “There are three friendships which are advantageous and three which are injurious. Friendship with the upright, friendship with the sincere, and friendship with the man of much observation—these are advantageous. Friendship with the man of specious airs, friendship with the insinuatingly soft, and friendship with the glib-tongued—these are injurious.” (Analects, bk. xvi., c. iv.)

  Confucius, in addition to the foregoing, numbered among “the three things men find enjoyment in, which are advantageous,” this: “to find enjoyment in having many worthy friends”; and said that a youth “should . . . cultivate the friendship of the good.” (Analects, bk. i., c. vi.) One of the traits, also, of him “who aims to be a man of complete virtue” is, he declares, that “he frequents the company of men of principle that he may be rectified.” (Analects, bk. i., c. xiv.)

  In the “Li Ki,” the converse is remarked: “Friendship with the dissolute leads to the neglect of one’s learning.” (Bk. xvi., 12.)

  And in the “Shu King” (pt. v., bk. xxvi.) Mu is recorded as voicing this warning: “Cultivate no intimacy with flatterers!”

  The same ancient worthy is represented in the “Shu King” (bk. xxvi.) to have uttered this admonition: “Do not employ men of artful speech and insinuating looks!”

  Confucius obviously intended to give the same counsel, when he said: “Fine words and an insinuating appearance are seldom associated with real virtue.” (Analects, bk. i., c. iii.)

  The contrast between the meritorious and the meretricious in human character and of the usefulness of one and the harmfulness of the other is most cleverly revealed in this saying of Confucius, taken from the “Li Ki” (bk. xxix., 47): “The superior man seems uninteresting but he aids to achievement, the inferior man winning but he leads to ruin.”

  Prudence as regards conversation and association with others is also variously recommended by Confucius, as thus: “When a man may be spoken with, not to speak with him is to waste opportunity. When a man may not be spoken with, to speak with him is to waste words.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. vii.)

  The last of these admonitions he elsewhere puts figuratively, thus: “Rotten wood cannot be carved; a wall of dirty earth will not receive the trowel.” (Analects, bk. v., c. ix., v. 2.)

  The same idea recurs in this counsel: “Faithfully admonish your friend and kindly try to lead him. If you find him impracticable, desist; do not disgrace yourself.” (Analects, bk. xii., c. xxiii.)

  Also in this warning against unnecessary admonitions: “In serving a prince, frequent remonstrances lead to disgrace. Between friends, frequent reproofs make the friendship distant.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. xxvi.)

  The three wishes, however, to which Confucius gave expression when interrogated by Tsze-loo, were: “In regard to the aged, to give them rest; in regard to friends, to show them sincerity; in regard to the young, to treat them tenderly.” (Analects, bk. v., c. xxv.)

  It therefore appears that he would not withhold his counsel or even reproof, if needed, although it might result in breaking the bonds of friendship; but would instead prefer to lose his friend, if need be, rather than fail of his full duty toward him. The attitude which the friend should take and the course, likewise, are indicated in these words: “Can men refuse assent to the words of just admonition? But it is reforming the conduct because of them, which is the thing.” (Analects, bk. ix., c. xxiii.)

  The great value of good example Confucius strikingly set forth in this question: “If there were not virtuous men in Loo, how could this man have acquired this character?” (Analects, bk. v., c. ii.)

  So also when remonstrated with, upon expressing his intention to go and live among the nine wild tribes of the east, Confucius, answering, inquired: “If a superior man dwelt among them, what rudeness would there be?” (Analects, bk. ix., c. xiii., v. 2.)

  In another place he says (Analects, bk. i., c. viii., v. 3): “Have no friends not equal to yourself!” meaning thereby of course not that they should be equal in abilities, necessarily, but equal in character and deportment. The same, very nearly, is the significance of this text: “When the persons on whom a man leans are proper persons for him to be intimate with, he can make them his guides and masters.” (Analects, bk. i., c. xiii.)

  This his disciples, with boundless admiration, asserted that they had themselves obeyed, when they had hung upon the lips of Confucius; for they leave this panegyric of their teacher: “Our Master cannot be attained to, precisely as the heavens cannot be scaled by the steps of a ladder.” (Analects, bk. xix., c. xxv., v. 2.)

  That the wisdom of this counsel is not confined to the case of a single associate, but instead extends to all associations both individual and communal, is shown by this additional text, already quoted in another connexion: “It is virtuous manners which constitute the excellence of a neighbourhood. If a man in selecting a residence do not fix on one where such prevail, how can he be wise?” (Analects, bk. iv., c. i.)

  Yet the evil in man is useful for instruction, as well as the good; and he says of this: “When I walk along with two others, they may serve me as my teachers. I will select their good qualities and follow them, their bad qualities and avoid them.” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xxi.)

  And in another place he warns his disciples, saying: “When we see men of worth, we should think of equalling them; when we see men of a contrary character, we should turn inwards and examine ourselves.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. xvii.)

  This does not, however, necessarily imply that he advises association with the latter nor indeed does he, though he says of himself: “It is impossible for me to associate with birds and beasts, as if they were the same with us. If I associate not with these people—with mankind—with whom am I to associate?” (Analects, bk. xviii., c. vi., v. 4.)

  In reply to doubts expressed by his disciples, however, Confucius on one occasion defended himself in a manner very like the response of Jesus, saying: “I admit people’s approach to me without committing myself as to what they may do when they have retired. Why must one be so severe? If a man purify himself to wait upon me, I receive him, so purified, without endorsing his past conduct.” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xxviii., v. 2.)

  It is interesting and refreshing to find in Confucius something akin to the sage words of the Elder Edda: “Unwise is he who permits the grass to grow between his house and his friend’s.” It runs: “ ‘How the flowers of the aspen-plum flutter and turn! Do I not think of you? But your house is distant.’ The Master said: ‘It is the want of thought over it. How is it distant?’ ” (Analects, bk. ix., c. xxx.)

  That the truly virtuous man will not want for companionship, the sage thus declares: “Virtue is not left to stand alone. He who practises it, will have neighbours.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. xxv.)

  This is but another way of saying what is elsewhere so well said in these words: “Let the superior man never fail reverentially to order his own conduct, and let him be respectful to others and observant of propriety; then all within the four seas will be his brothers.” (Analects, bk. xii., c. v., v. 4.)

  Sexual Propriety. “The scholar keeps himself free from all stain.” (Li Ki, bk. xxxviii., 15.) “The Master said, ‘Refusing to surrender their wills or to submit to any taint to their persons; such, I think, were Pih-e and Shuh-ts‘e.’ ” (Analects, bk. xviii., c. viii., v. 2.) These two passages illustrate the sage’s insistence upon sexual continence, among other virtues.

  While of course personal purity is a conception which, both in ancient China and in the modern Occident, embraces much more than this, and while abuses of the appetites for food or drink, or even of the more unconsciously exercised appetite for breathing, as in smoking, may contaminate in essentially the same fashion as the misuse of the function which reproduces the race of men, yet both in the days of Confucius and in these later days the superior seductiveness of the appeal of feminine beauty causes the mind to recur at once to chastity when personal purity is spoken of.

  Confucius distinguished and understood all of these evil habits which were exigent in his day and condemned them, as thus: “To find enjoyment in extravagant pleasures, to find enjoyment in idleness and sauntering, to find enjoyment in the pleasures of feasting—these are injurious.” (Analects, bk. xvi., c. v.)

  And again: “Hard is the case of him who will stuff himself with food the whole day, without applying the mind to anything.” (Analects, bk. xvii., c. xxii.)

  As regards all the physical functions, Mencius puts at once the problem and the difficulties, thus: “The physical organs with their functions belong to our Heaven-conferred nature. But a man must be a sage before he can satisfy the design of his physical organism.” (Bk. vii., pt. i., c. xxxviii.)

  But especially as respects the greatest of all human relations, that of a man with a woman, and those which grow out of it, the sage urged such regard for the purity of both sexes as would assure the suppression of mere playing with the means of the greatest of all human ends, the bringing of new lives into being and the development of higher and yet higher orders of human beings upon the earth. In the “Li Ki” it is thus insisted that the distinction between men and women must be observed and preserved for the good of all: “If no distinction were observed between males and females, disorder would arise and grow.” (Bk. xvii., sect. i., 32.)

  King Wan, one of the most celebrated rulers of China, in the time of Confucius already a character of almost legendary antiquity, is said in the first Appendix to the “Yi King” (sect. ii., c. xxxviii., v. 3) to have given this reason for the necessary distinction and separation of men from women: “Heaven and earth are separate and apart, but the work which they do is the same. Male and female are separate and apart, but with a common will they seek the same objects.”

  This rule of separation did not withdraw woman into the absolute seclusion of a harem; it permitted innocent intercourse of mind with mind. But, according to the “Li Ki,” it avoided all physical contact and, so far as possible, all opportunities for it.

  These are some of the rules there laid down: “The Master said, ‘According to the rules, male and female do not give the cup, one to the other, except at sacrifice. This was intended to guard the people.’ ” (Bk. xxvii., 35.) “Males and females should not sit on the same mat, nor have the same stand or rack for their clothes, nor use the same towel or comb, nor let their hands touch in giving and receiving.” (Bk. i., sect. i., pt. iii., c. vi., v. 31.) “They should not share the same mat in lying down, they should not ask or receive anything from one another, and they should not wear upper or lower garments alike.” (Bk. x., sect. i., 12.)

  The following explanation of the reasons for such separation is attributed in the “Li Ki” to Confucius himself: “The Master said: ‘The ceremonial usages serve as dykes for the people against evil excesses. They exemplify the separation between the sexes which should be maintained, that there may be no ground for suspicion and human relations may be clearly defined. . . . So it was intended to guard the people; yet there are women among them who offer themselves.’ ” (Bk. xxvii., 33.)

  In a more extended passage, also attributed to Confucius, the reason for the strictness of the rules is more fully stated, together with illustrations of their application, as follows: “The Master said: ‘The love of virtue should balance the love of beauty. Men of position should not be like anglers for beauty in those below them. The superior man withstands the allurements of beauty, to give an example to the people. Thus men and women, in giving and receiving, allow not their hands to touch; in driving even with his wife in his carriage, a husband holds forth his left hand; when a young aunt, a sister, or a daughter is wed and returns to her father’s house, no male relative should sit with her upon the mat; a widow should not lament at night; in asking after a wife who is ill, the nature of her illness should not be referred to. Thus it was sought to guard the people. Yet there are those who become licentious and introduce disorder and confusion into their families.’ ” (Li Ki, bk. xxvii., 37.)

  There was no relaxation of this separation before marriage. Thus Mencius says: “When a son is born, what is desired for him is that he may have a wife; when a daughter is born, that she may have a husband. All men as parents have this feeling. If, without awaiting the instructions of their parents and the arrangements of the intermediary, they bore holes to steal a sight of each other, or climb over a wall to be with each other, their parents and all others will despise them.” (Bk. iii., pt. ii., c. iii., v. 6.)

  In the “Yi King” (appendix iii., sect. i., c. viii., 48) the adornment of women so as to attract men is thus referred to: “Careless laying up of things excites to robbery, as a woman’s adorning herself excites to lust.”

  Under the rules laid down in the “Li Ki” this delicacy about sex was carried so far that “a man was not permitted to die in the hands of women, nor a woman in the hands of men!” (Bk. xix., sect. i., 1.)

  Confucius and for centuries before his time the dominant persons in Chinese society were firm believers in the home as the sphere of woman. Within the home she was supreme; the privacies of her realm should not be revealed without, nor the hardships and worries of the outside world brought within to annoy and terrify her. In the “Li Ki” it is said: “The men should not speak of what belongs to the inside of the house, nor the women of what belongs to the outside.” (Bk. x., sect. i., 12.)

  And again: “Outside affairs should not be talked of inside the home, nor inside affairs outside of it.” (Bk. i., sect. i., pt. iii., c. vi., v. 33.)

  The severity of the rules enjoined by Confucius and his Chinese predecessors in the matter of avoiding temptation is well illustrated by the following, the enforcement of which must have rendered the childhood and youth of the sage, himself the only son of a widow, unusually and even painfully solitary at times:

  “The Master said: ‘One does not pay visits to the son of a widow. This may seem an obstacle to friendship, but the superior man, in order to avoid suspicion, will make no visits in such a case. Hence, also, in calling upon a friend, if the master of the house be not at home, unless there be some great cause for it, the guest does not cross the threshold.’ ” (Bk. xxvii., 36.)

  CHAPTER IV

  THE FAMILY

  With the Chinese, as with the ancient Romans, the family is the social unit, and Confucius has much to say on this subject. As he connected propriety, the relation of a man to his fellows, with self-development, so he does even more intimately the relation of a man to the members of his household.

  Prerequisites to its Regulation. “What is meant by ‘The regulation of one’s own family depends on his self-development’ is this: Men are partial where they feel affection and love, partial where they despise and dislike, partial where they stand in awe and reverence, partial where they feel sorrow and compassion, partial where they are arrogant and harsh. Thus it is that there are few men in the world who love and at the same time know the bad qualities of them they love or who hate and yet know the excellences of them they hate. Hence it is said, in the common adage: ‘A man does not know the wickedness of his son; he does not know the richness of his growing corn.’ This is what is meant by saying that if there is not self-development, a man cannot regulate his family.” (Great Learning, c. viii.)

  The idea expressed in this passage from “The Great Learning” seems to be that the love of an inferior man for his family is not really affectionate regard for the welfare of wife or child but merely an indulgent disposition, permitting them, partly through favour, partly because to take the trouble to regulate them is too great a detriment to his own personal comfort, to go their own way without restraint. Such, the sage conceives, is the conduct of the inferior man whose partiality so blinds him to the faults of those whom he loves, that he cannot bring himself to correct them. The superior man, he holds, should be, and indeed necessarily is, of the contrary view and practice. Of this it is said in the “Li Ki”: “The superior man commences with respect as the basis of love. To omit respect is to leave no foundation for affection. Without love there can be no union; without respect the love will be ignoble.” (Bk. xxiv., 9.)

  Precisely the opposite of mere indulgent laxity is indicated as the course of the superior man in respect to his family; and it is asked by Confucius with full assurance as to what the reply must be if veracious: “Can there be love which does not lead to strictness with its objects?” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. viii.)

  The essential mutuality and the prerequisites of that union of hearts upon which alone true marriage may rest, and by means of which alone lifelong existence in the closest of human relations is tolerable, are well set forth in this sentiment from the lips of I Yin, the minister of King Thang, which is found in the “Shu King”: “To evoke love, you must love; to call forth respect, you must show respect.” (Pt. iv., bk. iv., 2.)

  For the purposes of discipline within the family, as well as for material support and protection, the woman was counselled to subject herself to the man. In the “Li Ki” it was ordered thus: “The woman follows the man. In her youth she follows her father and elder brother; when married, she follows her husband; when her husband is dead, she follows her son.” (Bk. ix., 10.)

  About the worst that, in the opinion of Confucius, could be said of any man, was this remark of Yu, in the “Shu King,” speaking of Ku of Tan, son of Yao: “He introduced licentious associates into his family.” (Pt. ii., bk. iv., 1.)

  The delights of a well-ordered household, where love and harmony hold sway, are pictured by the sage as follows: “It is said in the Book of Poetry: ‘A happy union with wife and children is like the music of lutes and harps! When there is concord among brethren, the harmony is delightful and enduring. Thus may you regulate your family and enjoy the delights of wife and children!’ The Master said, ‘In such a condition parents find perfect contentment.’ ” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xv., v. 2, 3.)

  Wedlock. “The observance of propriety commences with careful attention to the relations between husband and wife.” (Li Ki, bk. x., sect. ii., 13.)

  In these words, the “Li Ki,” the book of the rules of propriety, celebrates the prime importance of the marriage relation and of the useful principles for the regulation of human conduct which spring out of it. This was a favourite and familiar idea of Confucius and will be adverted to frequently in the development of his theories of the regulation of the family and of the government.

  In his days, as in these days, there were not wanting those who saw in marriage a mere ceremony, conformity with which added no element of sacredness to a natural and necessary relation. These were rebuked in the “Li Ki” in these terms: “He who thinks the old embankments useless and destroys them, is sure to suffer from the desolation caused by overflowing water; and he who should consider the old rules of propriety useless and abolish them, would be sure to suffer from the calamities of disorder. Thus if the ceremonies of marriage were discontinued, the path of husband and wife would be embittered and there would be many offences of licentiousness and depravity.” (Bk. xxiii., 7, 8.)

  Again in the same book this is put tersely and pointedly, thus: “This ceremony [i. e., marriage] lies at the foundation of government.” (Bk. xxiv., 11.) In the “Doctrine of the Mean,” the “duties of universal obligation” are given as follows: “The duties are between sovereign and minister, father and son, husband and wife, elder and younger brother, friend and friend.” (C. xx., v. 8.)

  In the “Elder Tai’s Book of Rites” (bk. lxxx.), are certain advisory regulations as to the choice of a wife, chiefly that she shall be of a family of a high standard of moral conduct and shall not be a daughter of a disloyal house, of a disorderly house, of a house with more than one generation of criminals or of a leprous house, nor be taken if the mother is dead and the daughter is old.

  The one inexorable rule as regards marriage was this: “The Master said: ‘A man in taking a wife does not choose one of the same surname as himself.’ ” (Li Ki, bk. xxvii., 34.)

  This, rather than any other rule based upon kinship, was enforced because the wife was considered to merge herself in her husband’s family, to join in sacrifices to his ancestors and to give her life over to bearing and rearing sons to continue his race and to preserve his ancestral temples. She thus lost her relationship to her own kindred, during the continuance of the marriage relation, and permanently unless it were dissolved by divorce; and therefore relatives on the mothers’ side, however near, were not considered to be within the prohibited degrees of consanguinity, while relatives on the father’s side, however remote, were so esteemed.

  In the “Tso Chuan” or “Tso’s Commentary” the following reason for this rule is given: “When husband and wife are of the same surname, their children do not do well and multiply.”

  This observation, applied, however, to relatives on either side, is in harmony with the most modern discoveries concerning the effect of persistent inbreeding as well as modern views of propriety. In “Spring and Autumn” and later in the “Code of the Ts‘ing Dynasty” (c. x.), this was extended to proscribe marriages within certain degrees of relationship on the mother’s side. The wife became, by her marriage, of the same rank as her husband, thus being identified closely with his family. In the “Li Ki” it is said of this: “Though the wife had no rank, she was held to be of the rank of her husband and she took her seat according to the position belonging to him.” (Bk. ix., sect. iii., 11.)

  The demoralizing “morganatic” marriage, indulged by certain royalties of Europe, is accordingly unknown in China.

  As a part of the ceremony of marriage, the bridegroom went in person to bring his bride home to his father’s house, where she became a member of his father’s family and a daughter to his mother. This is referred to in the “Li Ki” as follows: “The bridegroom went in person to meet the bride, the man taking the initiative and not the woman—according to the idea that regulates the relation between the strong and the weak.” (Bk. ix., sect. iii., 8.)

  In the same book there is recorded an argument upon the propriety of this custom, in which Confucius is represented as taking part. The record runs as follows: “The duke said, ‘. . . For the bridegroom in his square-topped cap to go in person to meet his bride, is it not making too much of it?’ Confucius looked surprised, became very serious and said, ‘It is the union of two surnames in friendship and love, to continue the posterity of the sages of old, to supply those who shall preside at the sacrifices to Heaven and Earth, at sacrifices to ancestors, at sacrifices to the spirits of the land and grain; how can you, then, call the ceremony too great?’ ” (Bk. xxiv., 10.)

  Mencius thus quotes from the Ritual the instructions which the bride’s mother gives her in view of the approaching nuptials: “At the marriage of a young woman, her mother admonishes her, accompanying her to the door on her leaving and cautioning her with these words, ‘You are going to your home. You must be respectful. You must be careful. Do not disobey your husband!’ ” (Bk. iii., pt. ii., c. ii., v. 2.)

  Though the Chinese girl was brought up, then as now, with matrimony in view as her goal, and though she was trained with an eye to subjection to her husband in the regulation of the family and to obedience to her husband’s mother in the home, it does not appear that she was trained in respect to rearing of children; for of this it is said in “The Great Learning” (c. ix., v. 2): “If a mother is really anxious to do so, though she may not hit precisely the wants of her child, she will not be far from it. There has never been a girl who learned to bring up a child, that she might afterwards marry.”

  Concubinage was then and theretofore, as now, also an institution in China and is recognized by Confucius and rules laid down also for its regulation. The relationship was treated as not less regular than that of marriage but it involved lower standing for the concubine and her offspring; notwithstanding which frequently the wife’s younger sister became the concubine, not without the active connivance of the wife, lonely amid unfamiliar surroundings and longing for the companionship of her own kin. The wife had dominion in the home over concubines and their children.

  The double standard was therefore known and its consequences openly accepted, though in the majority of homes one wife reigned supreme and, as has been seen, it was such a home the felicity of which Confucius portrayed in his tribute to the marriage relation, quoted at the close of the next preceding subdivision.

  Concubinage was deemed not merely permissible but commendable when the wife remained barren or even when there were daughters but no son to perpetuate the name of the husband and maintain the altars of devotion of his ancestors. Had it been otherwise, undoubtedly divorces, with their hardships, would have been more common and would have extended to most cases of infertility, even though no personal incompatibility accompanied it.

  The institution of concubinage cast no doubt upon the parentage of any child; no other woman could claim the maternity nor was the paternity of the child of the wife or of the concubine rendered dubious thereby. To this circumstance, perhaps, is attributable the countenance given to this form of the double standard. The contrary condition, i. e., that want of fidelity on the part of the woman exposes her progeny to question as to their paternity, doubtless accounts for the great stress then and ever placed upon fidelity on the part of woman. This applies, of course, to concubine as to wife and for the same reason; but constancy is, notwithstanding, deemed pre-eminently the virtue of a wife.

  The dignity of marriage and of procreation is thought by Confucius and his followers to be such that the husband and wife, together with Heaven, form a “ternion,” co-operating to people the earth, in that wherever there is true marriage, there also God is to give the increase. It is thus put in Ku-liang’s Commentary: “The female alone cannot procreate; the male alone cannot propagate; and Heaven alone cannot produce a man. The three collaborating, man is born. Hence any one may be called the son of his mother or the son of Heaven.”

  And in “Many Dewdrops of the Spring and Autumn” (bk. lxx.), this passage strongly emphasizes the function of the divine forces in the reproduction of men: “There has never been a birth without the collaboration of Heaven. God is the creator of all men.”

  In the “Li Ki,” the sacredness and permanence of marriage are thus inculcated: “Faithfulness is requisite in all service of others and faithfulness is especially the virtue of a wife. Once mated with her husband, all her life she will not change her feeling of duty to him; hence, when the husband dies, she will not marry again.” (Bk. ix., sect. iii., 7.)

  Divorce. In the Confucian conception of marriage, based upon the ancient Chinese customs, there seems to be more constraint about entering into wedlock than about continuing in it.

  Thus a father might choose the bride for his son, though of course conceivably the son might—but under the Chinese rules of family discipline, seldom would—refuse to accept the choice. The father of the bride was then approached by the father of the prospective bridegroom; his consent was the consent of his daughter. Of course, again, she could refuse to acquiesce and a considerate father would not coerce her choice; but filial obedience and confidence were often the only elements operative in determining that choice.

  It was thus, indeed, that the marriage which resulted in the birth of Confucius came about. It was between a widower of seventy years, already the father of nine daughters but of only one son, a hopeless cripple, on the one hand, and a maiden of seventeen years on the other, both of whose older sisters had declined the offer while she followed her father’s counsel.

  Once wedded, however, the husband and the wife were free to separate at will and without constraint, save as the authority of the husband’s parents over him—not relaxed upon his marriage—might restrain him. Marriage, therefore, was treated as a contract which was at all times mutual, binding only as the parties continued to consent that it should bind. Either party could with a word dissolve it.

  In the “Li Ki” the following account is given of the proper forms to be observed in divorcement: “When a feudal lord sent his wife away, she proceeded on her journey to her own state, and was received there with the observances due a lord’s wife. The messenger accompanying her then discharged his commission, saying: ‘My poor master, from his want of ability, was not able to follow her and to take part in the services at your altars and in your ancestral temple. He has, therefore, sent me, so-and-so; and I venture to inform your officer, appointed for the purpose, of what he has done.’ The officer presiding on this occasion replied: ‘My poor master in his former communication to you did not inform you about her and he does not presume to do anything but to receive your master’s message, respectfully.’ The officers in attendance on the commissioner then set forth the various articles sent with the lady on her marriage and those on the other side received them.

  “When the wife went away from her husband, she sent a messenger and took leave of him, saying: ‘So-and-so, through her want of ability, is not able to keep on supplying the vessels of grain for your sacrifices; and has sent me, so-and-so, to presume to announce this to your attendants.’ The principal party on the other side replied: ‘My son, in his inferiority, does not presume to avoid your punishing him, and dares not but respectfully receive your orders.’ The messenger then retired, the principal party bowing to him and escorting him. If the husband’s father were living, he named himself as principal party; if he were dead, an elder brother of the husband acted for him and the message was given as from him; if there were no elder brother, it ran as from the husband, himself.” (Bk. xviii., sect. ii., pt. ii., 34, 35.)

  Though this was given in the “Li Ki” or book of the rules of propriety as a description of the customs of the ancients of high rank, it was intended, with such modifications in the matter of greater directness and simplicity as the lowliness and poverty of the parties might require, to supply rules of ceremony for the divorce of all mismated husbands and wives.

  The utter absence of recrimination and abuse, due of course to the circumstance that charges of evil conduct were not required as a condition to the divorce being allowed and that, instead, the mere will of either party was enough, contrasts—to the advantage of which need not be said—sharply and strongly with the invasion of family privacy, the exposure of family shame, and the defamation of character which accompany divorce proceedings under the laws of the advanced civilization of Occidental countries; and the contrast evokes the query: Do we thus assure the indissolubility of the marriage tie in a degree that more than offsets the mischief which divorce actions inflict upon society?

  There was, and is, even under such a system, much moral restraint upon the wife to continue such, even though not satisfied with her lot. Her prospects of a second and happier marriage are often not alluring. The reception at her own home which she may expect, is not likely to be a warm welcome and it may be cold or even harsh. And if she has children, her lot is even more deplorable for, after very early infancy, they become members of her husband’s family and are lost to her, forever. There is also the prosaic bread-and-butter question in many cases and it is presented in an aggravated form in a country where by general consent a virtuous woman’s place is in a home.

  Not the least of the mother’s hardships if she be the mother of the eldest living son, who becomes, after his father’s death, the head of the family, is that after her death he may not go into mourning for her if divorced; for he is too completely identified with the service of the departed ancestors of the family of which he is the head and which she has abandoned.

  The hardships inflicted upon the husband by divorce may not be so serious. He must return the dower but he retains the more precious fruits of the marriage, his children. Yet consciousness of this very inequality, coupled with the traditional protective attitude toward the women of one’s own family, must act upon the husband as a powerful deterrent, especially in view of the fact that he may seek through concubinage a more acceptable consort and mother for his children, without thus entirely displacing, humiliating, and perhaps greatly injuring his spouse.

  In the Elder Tai’s Record of Rites (bk. lxxx.), recognized causes for divorcing a wife are set forth as follows: “Disobedience to parents-in-law, failure to bear a son, adultery, jealousy of her husband, leprosy, garrulity, theft”; but the husband should not divorce her if she has no home to return to, if she has with him mourned three years for his parents, or if his condition was formerly poor and mean and is now rich and honourable. These rules are found in the code of the Manchu dynasty, also.

  But in practice the only restraints upon the husband, other than the requirement that he must return the dower, are, first, that he must obtain the approval of his father, if living, or his elder brother, if the father is dead, and, second, that his wife may, through her ranking male relative, appeal to the court if one of the three conditions under which divorce is not permissible is alleged to exist. The husband and his father or elder brother are sole and final judges whether or not one of the seven causes is present. The wife may divorce her husband with his consent, which means, again, with the consent of his father or elder brother, also; and, since she must return to her father or elder brother, she must of course first obtain their consent and approval. Divorce, then, is by the parties, themselves, and not by a court, though under certain circumstances subject to judicial review. It is not especially common in China; and monogamy is also there the rule. In other words the admonition with which the last chapter closed, is there well heeded, both as to union with but one wife and as to permanence of marriage, though both marriage and divorce are so little limited by law; as is also well said in the “Yi King” (appendix vi., sect. ii., 32): “The rule for the relation of husband and wife is that it should be enduring.”

  Parenthood. “Here now is the affection of a father for his sons: He is proud of the meritorious among them and ranks those lower who are not so able. But that of a mother is such that, while she is proud of the meritorious, she cherishes those who are not so able. The mother deals with them on grounds of affection rather than of pride; the father on grounds of pride rather than affection.” (Li Ki, bk. xxix., 29.)

  The justice and discrimination which the superior man displays as a father, and without which he would act as an unreasoning animal rather than as a superior man, are tempered, however, by his natural affection for his progeny. Their relations are reciprocal, thus: “As a son he rested in filial piety. As a father he rested in kindness.” (Great Learning, c. iii., v. 3.)

  This mutual fondness is given apt expression in this saying: “Everyone calls his son, his son, whether he has talents or has not talents.” (Analects, bk. xi., c. vii., v. 2.)

  But its propriety and the extent of its application are better illustrated by this narrative: “The duke of She informed Confucius, saying, ‘Among us here there are those who may be styled upright in conduct. If their father have stolen a sheep, they will bear witness to the fact.’ Confucius said, ‘Among us, in our part of the country, those who are upright are different from this. The father conceals the misconduct of his son and the son conceals the misconduct of the father. Uprightness is to be found in this.’ ” (Analects, bk. xiii., c. xviii.)

  In the “Analects,” Confucius says: “A youth, when at home, should be filial, and, abroad, respectful to his elders. He should be earnest and truthful. He should overflow in love to all and cultivate the friendship of the good. When he has time and opportunity, after the performance of these things, he should employ them in polite studies.” (Bk. i., c. vi.)

  The cultivation of these qualities is necessary in order that he may be regarded as filial; for while, as will be seen, much stress is placed upon filial observances, the most important thing is to be a worthy son. Thus in the “Li Ki” it runs: “He whom the superior man pronounces filial is he whom the people of the state praise, saying with admiration, ‘Happy are the parents who have such a son as this!’ ” (Bk. xxi., sect. ii., 11.)

  The opposite picture is unflinchingly and unsparingly presented in these texts of the “Analects,” already quoted: “In youth, not humble as befits a junior; in manhood, doing nothing worthy of being handed down; and living on to old age:—this is to be a pest.” (Bk. xiv., c. xlvi.) “I observe that he is fond of occupying the seat of a full-grown man; I observe that he walks shoulder to shoulder with his elders. He is not one who is seeking to make progress in learning. He wishes quickly to become a man.” (Bk. xiv., c. xlvii., v. 3.)

  Yet the mere shortcomings of youth are to be viewed charitably and judgment is to be suspended until time shall tell. This Confucius puts as follows: “A youth is to be regarded with respect. How do we know that his future will not be equal to our present? If he reach the age of forty or fifty, and has not made himself heard of, then indeed he will not be worth being regarded with respect.” (Analects, bk. ix., c. xxii.)

  And one of the three things which he especially enjoins in relations to others is that all deal considerately with the young; he says in the “Analects” that his wishes are: “In regard to the aged, to give them repose; in regard to friends, to show them sincerity; in regard to the young, to treat them tenderly.” (Bk. v., c. xxv., v. 4.)

  The responsibilities of the father are of course more serious and grave. They extend even to the avoidance of such comradeship with his son as might be misunderstood and so tend to impair the son’s veneration. Thus, as has already been quoted, it is said: “I have also heard that the superior man maintains a distant reserve towards his son.” (Analects, bk. xvi., c. xiii., v. 5.)

  He must keep himself a veritable hero in his son’s eyes, in order that he may command, and may be worthy to command, his admiration and reverence. This also he must achieve in very truth and not by deception; for in the “Li Ki” it is said: “A boy should never be permitted to see an instance of deceit.” (Bk. i., sect. i., pt. ii., c. v., 17.)

  Lest the son should thereby come to regard the father otherwise than as an ever-watchful and loving guardian, happy in his son’s well-doing and grieved, rather than wroth, at his misdoings, it was enjoined by Mencius that the father should not be his son’s tutor, for fear the necessary discipline estrange them, thus:

  “Kung-sun Chow said, ‘Why is it that the superior man does not himself teach his son?’

  “Mencius replied, ‘The circumstances of the case forbid its being done. The teacher must inculcate what is correct. When he inculcates what is correct and his lessons are not practised, he follows them up with being angry. When he follows them up with being angry, then contrary to what should be, he is offended with his son. At the same time the pupil says, “My master inculcates in me what is correct and he himself does not proceed in a correct path.” The result of this is, that father and son are offended with each other. When father and son come to be offended with each other, the case is evil.

  “ ‘The ancients exchanged sons, and one taught the son of another.

  “ ‘Between father and son, there should be no reproving admonitions to what is good. Such reproofs lead to alienation, and than alienation there is nothing more inauspicious.’ ” (Bk. iv., pt. i., c. xviii.)

  And in book v. of Pan Ku, a Confucian writer of the first century, the power of the father over the son was distinctly limited, as a matter of law, on the ground of the universal fatherhood of God, thus: “ ‘Among all the lives given by Heaven and Earth, man is the noblest.’ All men are children of God and are merely made flesh through the spirits of father and mother. . . . Therefore, the father has not absolute power over the son.”

  Essentials of Filial Piety. “Our bodies, to every hair and shred of skin, are received from our parents. We must not presume to injure or to wound them. This is the beginning of filial piety. When we have established our character by the practice of this filial course, so as to make our name famous in future ages and thereby glorify our parents, this is the end of filial piety.” (Hsiâo King, “Book of Filial Piety,” c. i.)

  It is remarkable and significant that it should in these modern days be necessary to say “filial piety.” “Pietas” originally signified reverent devotion to parents and unflagging service of them. Through this the meaning, “service of the Heavenly Father,” has been derived. Meanwhile the original meaning of the word has been lost—indeed, as a serious duty, the very thing itself is near to have been lost—and it is now requisite to use the tautology, “filial piety,” to express the idea for which “piety” alone once stood.

  The Romans and the Greeks, however, scarcely at any time knew filial piety of the same type as this institution of the Chinese; for, though they possessed their “Lares and Penates,” or household divinities, making sacrifices to departed ancestors was probably never erected into a well-established, long-cherished, everywhere honoured practice.

  The piety of the ancient Chinese, nevertheless, did not solely or even primarily consist in sacrifices to the spirits of the dead. It called for the greatest reverence and devotion while the parent is yet living. Its most important phase, indeed, was the obligation it imposed to live an honourable and creditable life, that the parents might not have occasion to blush for their offspring.

  This feature cannot be overemphasized; for it is the chief sanction for ethical conduct, according to the morals of Confucius, aside from the ambition to become a superior human being as an end in, and of, itself. In the “Li Ki” this view is ascribed directly to Confucius, thus: “I heard from Tsang-Tsze that he had heard the Master say that of all that Heaven produces and Earth nourishes there is none so great as man. His parents give birth to his person all complete and to return it to them complete may be called filial duty.” (Bk. xxi., sec. ii., 14.)

  This is enjoined again and again in this book of the rules of propriety, as in the following: “The superior man’s respect extends to all. It is at its greatest when he respects himself. He is but an outgrowth from his parents; dare he do otherwise than preserve his self-respect? If he cannot respect himself, he injures them.” (Bk. xxiv., 12.)

  The following more detailed statement from the same book is ascribed to Tsang-Tsze, himself: “The body is that which has been transmitted to us by our parents; dare any one allow himself to be irreverent in the employment of their legacy? If a man in his own house and privacy be not grave, he is not filial; if in serving his ruler he be not loyal, he is not filial; if in discharging the duties of office he be not reverent, he is not filial; if with friends he be not sincere, he is not filial; if on the field of battle he be not brave, he is not filial. If he fail in these five things, the evil will reach his parents; dare he then do otherwise than reverently attend to them?” (Bk. xxi., sect. ii., 11.)

  The reverential service, due to parents as an act of filial piety, is not confined to service of the father, though he is the more frequently mentioned; the mother is equally the object of the devotion and love of their offspring. Thus in the “Hsiâo King,” or Book of Filial Piety (c. v.), it is said: “As they serve their fathers, so they serve their mothers, and they love them equally. As they serve their fathers, so they serve their rulers and they reverence them equally. Hence love is what is chiefly rendered to the mother and reverence is what is chiefly rendered to the ruler, while both of these things are given to the father.”

  The same book contains also the following statement of the reciprocal and mutual duties of parent and child: “The son derives his life from his parents and no greater gift could possibly be transmitted; his ruler and parent, his father, deals with him accordingly and no generosity could be greater than his.” (C. ix.)

  The effectiveness of filial piety as a motive of well-doing and the inspiration which it supplies are well set forth in this passage from the “Li Ki”: “The superior man, going back to his ancient fathers and returning to the authors of his being, does not forget those to whom he owes his life; and therefore he calls forth all his reverence, gives full vent to his feelings, and exhausts his strength in discharging this service—as a tribute of gratitude to his parents he dares not but do his utmost.” (Bk. xxi., sect. ii., 4.)

  The following panegyrics of filial piety from the “Hsiâo King” show the exalted regard in which Confucius and his predecessors held this virtue, which indeed they made the foundation for all other virtues:

  “There are three thousand offences against which the five punishments are directed; there is none of them greater than to be unfilial.” (C. xi.)

  “The disciple Tsang said, ‘Immense, indeed, is the greatness of filial piety!’ The Master replied, ‘Yes, filial piety is the constant requirement of Heaven, the righteousness of earth, and the practical duty of man.’ ” (C. vii.)

  “The disciple Tsang said, ‘I venture to ask whether in the virtue of the sages there was not something greater than filial piety?’ The Master replied, ‘Of all creatures produced by Heaven and Earth, man is the noblest. Of all man’s actions there is none greater than filial piety.’ ” (C. ix.)

  Pious Regard for Living Parents. “Tsang-Tsze said, ‘There are three degrees of filial piety. The highest is being a credit to our parents; the next is not disgracing them; and the lowest is merely being able to support them.’ ” (Li Ki, bk. xxi., sect. ii., 9.)

  Thus in the “Li Ki” the nature of filial piety toward living parents is indicated. Much the same is yet more urgently inculcated in another passage from the same book: “He should not forget his parents in the utterance of a single word and therefore an evil word will not issue from his mouth and an angry word will not react upon himself. Not to disgrace himself and not to cause shame to his parents may be called filial duty.” (Bk. xxi., sect. ii., 14.)

  The duty to support parents is in the “Li Ki” enjoined in these sweeping terms: “While his parents are alive, a son should not dare to consider his wealth his own nor hold it for his own use only.” (Bk. xxvii., 30.)

  Mencius has it: “I have heard that the superior man will not for all the world be niggardly toward his parents.” (Bk. ii., pt. ii., c. vii., v. 5.)

  In the “Hsiâo King” the sacrifice of personal comforts is commanded as necessary for even the lowest order of filial piety: “They are careful in their conduct and economical in their expenditures, in order to nourish their parents. This is the filial piety of the common people.” (C. vi.)

  Confucius was not wholly satisfied with this even as a statement of the duty of ordinary people. He deemed reverence, love, and obedience equally necessary in order that there might truly be a sentiment of pious regard and not a mere counterfeit of it. This colloquy taken from the “Analects” illustrates his position: “Tsze-hea asked what filial piety is. The Master said, ‘If, when their elders have burdensome duties, the young take the toil off them, and if, when the young have wine and food, they set them before their elders, is this to be deemed filial piety?’ ” (Analects, bk. ii., c. viii.)

  Again, in replying to the inquiry of another disciple, he refers to this as follows: “Tsze-yew asked what filial piety is. The Master said, ‘The filial piety of nowadays means the support of one’s parents. But dogs and horses likewise are able to do something in the way of support; without reverence, what is there to distinguish the one support from the other?’ ” (Analects, bk. ii., c. vii.)

  And to the query of yet another disciple he responded: “It is not being disobedient.” (Analects, bk. ii., c. v., v. 1.)

  In the “Li Ki” the same idea is put thus, involving both instant obedience and sincere respect: “When his father or his teacher calls, he should not merely say ‘Yes’ but also rise.” (Bk. i., pt. iii., c. iii., v. 14.)

  Yet mere obedience is not enough and there are not failing instances when neither obedience nor respect should restrain the son from remonstrating; as it is said in the “Hsiâo King”: “When unrighteous conduct is concerned, a son must by no means refrain from remonstrating with his father nor a minister from remonstrating with his ruler. Since, then, remonstrance is required in the case of unrighteous conduct, how can mere obedience to a father be accounted filial piety?” (C. xv.)

  And in the “Analects,” Confucius lays down the true rule of action in the following: “In serving his parents, a son may remonstrate with them, but gently; when he sees that they are not disposed to acquiesce, he should show increased reverence but not give up; and, should they punish him, he ought not to murmur.” (Bk. iv., c. xviii.)

  Remonstrance may not, however, be carried to excess and certainly not to such excess as is involved in exposing a father’s shortcomings to the eyes of others or crying aloud his shame; for the “Li Ki” represents Confucius to declare, in conformity also with other sayings elsewhere: “The Master said, ‘The superior man will overlook and not magnify the errors of his father and will show his veneration for his excellences.’ ” (Bk. xxvii., v. 17.)

  Mencius, apparently, would yet further limit the right of the son to reprove; indeed, he would all but destroy it for he says: “To urge one another to what is good by reproof is the way of friends. But between father and son reproof is the greatest offence against that tenderness which should subsist.” (Bk. iv., pt. ii., c. xxx., v. 4.)

  In the same connexion, Mencius says: “There are five things which are commonly recognized to be unfilial. The first is laziness about employing legs and arms, resulting in failure to support parents. The second, gambling and chess-playing and fondness for wine, with the same result. The third, prizing goods and money and selfish devotion to wife and children, with the same result. The fourth, giving way to the temptations that assail one’s eyes and ears, thus bringing his parents to shame. The fifth, reckless bravery, fighting and quarrelling, endangering thereby the happiness and the support of one’s parents.” (Bk. iv., pt. ii., c. xxx., v. 2.)

  Mencius also relates an extravagant but obviously apocryphal story of the filial piety of Shun, who however married without notifying his unforgiving parents, which act Mencius thus defends: “If he had informed them, he would not have been permitted to marry. That male and female should dwell together is the greatest of all human relations. Had he informed his parents, he must have missed this greatest of human relations and thereby have incurred their just resentment. Therefore was it that he did not inform them.” (Bk. v., pt. i., c. ii., v. 1.)

  This is also quite in keeping with another clever saying of Mencius, which likewise embodies an ethical principle much insisted upon in China: “There are three things which are unfilial and to have no posterity is the greatest of them.” (Bk. iv., pt. i., c. xxvi., v. 1.)

  Even in filial piety, more is not required of any man than he is able to do. Thus in the “Analects” it is related: “Tsze-hea said, ‘If a man . . . in serving his parents exert his utmost strength . . . although men say that he has not learned, I shall certainly say that he has.’ ” (Bk. i., c. vii.)

  In another place the test is made this: Does the general judgment of the son’s treatment of his parents coincide with their report—always sure to be favourable, no matter how he wrongs them? It runs thus: “Filial indeed is Min Tsze-K’een! Other people say nothing of him different from the report of his parents and brothers.” (Analects, bk. xi., c. iii.)

  King Wu is quoted in the “Shu King” as condemning unfilial and unfraternal behaviour in no uncertain terms as follows: “Oh Fang, such great criminals are greatly abhorred, and how much more the unfilial and unbrotherly! As the son who does not reverently discharge his duty to his father but greatly wounds his father’s heart; and the father who cannot love his son but hates him; as the younger brother who does not regard the manifest will of Heaven and refuses to respect his elder brother and the elder brother who does not think of the toil of their parents in bringing up their children and hates his younger brother.” (Pt. v., bk. ix., 3.)

  In the “Analects,” the disciple, Yu Tze, with feeling declares that all generous conduct flows from filial and fraternal sentiments, saying: “Filial piety and fraternal submission, are they not the root of all benevolent actions?” (Bk. i., c. ii., v. 2.)

  In the “Hsiâo King” the following encomiums for good and useful traits, flowing plainly out of early training in filial piety, are heaped upon him who has been truly filial: “He who serves his parents, in a high situation will be free from pride; in a low situation, will be free from insubordination; and, among his equals, will not be quarrelsome.” (C. x.)

  Mencius bluntly declares that filial piety necessarily results from a benevolent spirit and that one cannot exist without the other: “There never has been a man trained to benevolence who neglected his parents.” (Bk. i., pt. i., c. i., v. 5.)

  The assiduous, brooding care, resembling that of a mother for her infant child, which the son is expected to cultivate as regards his aging parents, is nowhere better illustrated than in this saying of Confucius: “The ages of parents may by no means not be kept in the memory, as an occasion at once for joy and for fear.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. xxi.)

  It is for this reason, also, i.e., that in the hour of need he may be within call, that this is enjoined by the sage: “While his parents are living, a son must not go abroad to a distance; or, if he should do so, he must have a fixed place to which he goes.” (Analects, bk. iv., c. xix.)

  Pious Observances after the Death of Parents. “Filial piety is seen in the skilful carrying out of the wishes of our forefathers and the skilful carrying forward of their undertakings.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xix., v. 2.) “While a man’s father is alive, look at the bent of his will; when his father is dead, look at his conduct. If for three years he does not alter from the way of his father, he may be called filial.” (Analects, bk. i., c. xi.)

  These passages from the “Doctrine of the Mean” and the “Analects” enjoin the continuance of filial piety, unabated, after the demise of parents.

  The filial piety of the poor may not be more than decent burial, with genuine grief and reverence; for it is not the expenditure or even the wealth of ceremony which constitutes the tribute—though the absence of either, if it can be afforded, is unpardonable—but rather the spirit of real veneration and sorrow. Confucius says of this: “In the ceremonies of mourning it is better that there be deep sorrow than a minute attention to observances.” (Analects, bk. iii., c. iv., v. 3.)

  Mencius gives an interesting and reasonable, though scarcely verifiable, account of the origin of burial, in this abiding tenderness for the authors of one’s being: “In the most ancient times there were some who did not inter their parents. When their parents died, they took the bodies up and cast them into some water-channel. Afterwards, when passing by, they saw foxes and wildcats devouring the bodies and flies and insects covering them. The sweat burst forth upon their brows; they looked away, unable to bear the sight. For other people such perspiration did not burst out; but now their hearts’ emotions affected their faces and their eyes. Instantly they hurried home, returned with spades and baskets, and covered the bodies. If this indeed was right, it is obvious that the filial son and virtuous man, in burying his parents, will behave according to propriety.” (Bk. iii., pt. i., c. v., v. 4.)

  This was advanced by Mencius in reply to an argument by the philosopher Mih, that there should be economical simplicity in funerals and burials—an argument often renewed to this day, the constant occasion for which shows how universal and deeply seated is the sentiment which provokes expenditure sufficient to afford what is deemed a suitable tribute of affection to the dead.

  A stern duty, never to be shirked by a son, is to avenge his father if slain by the hand of an enemy. If the execution of the criminal law does this, well and good; but if not, the responsibility is on the son. In the “Li Ki” it is put thus: “With him who has slain his father, a son should not live under the same sky.” (Bk. i., sect. i., pt. v., c. ii., v. 10.)

  Otherwise, however, the immediate duty of the son is fully performed by his grief, by proper burial, and the prescribed period of retirement and mourning; as it is said in the “Hsiâo King”: “The services of love and reverence to parents when alive, and those of grief and sorrow for them when dead—these completely discharge the duty of living men.” (C. xviii.)

  This mourning, however, must be the genuine expression of grief, deep and unassuageable; else the slight and feeble character of the son’s piety is apparent. Confucius deems this the severest and most reliable test of the earnestness and depth of filial devotion, saying: “Men may not have shown what is in them to the full extent, and yet they will be found to do so on occasion of mourning for their parents.” (Analects, bk. xix., c. xvii.)

  And he comments upon the mere show of it as comparable with two other destructive hypocrisies, as follows: “High station filled without indulgent generosity; ceremonies performed without reverence; mourning conducted without sorrow—wherewith should I contemplate such ways?” (Analects, bk. iii., c. xxvi.)

  The period of mourning for a father had been fixed at three years—interpreted as twenty-seven months—before the time of Confucius. The following is his statement about it and the reason for it: “It is not till a child is three years old that it is allowed to leave the arms of its parents. And three years’ mourning is universally observed throughout the empire.” (Analects, bk. xvii., c. xxi., v. 6.)

  During this period of mourning the son, if he can afford it, lives retired from the world, leaving the management of his affairs to others and abandoning himself to meditation, spiritual communion with the departed, and grief. He utterly eschews meanwhile every alleviation of his sorrow, including very particularly the solace of music.

  But, with the expiration of this long period of retirement, his mourning is by no means at an end. On the contrary it ends only with life itself. His father’s name must not be spoken in his presence, except at the sacrifices upon the anniversary of his death; and never without tears. Thus in the “Li Ki” it is said: “The saying that the superior man mourns all his life for his parents has reference to the recurrence of the day of their death. That he does not do his ordinary work on that day, does not mean that it would be unpropitious to do so; it means that on that day his thoughts are occupied with them and he does not dare occupy himself, as on other days, with his private and personal affairs.” (Bk. xxi., sect. i., 5.)

  The greatest of all filial obligations to deceased parents, however, is creditable conduct; for by that only can that which they have created, their son, worthily represent what they have sought to accomplish in the world through him. The consideration of this phase of the Confucian conception of filial piety is most important since it is the sanction most relied upon to enforce all the injunctions, whether directly regarding self-development or its concomitant essential, propriety in relations with other human beings. This devotion both to living and to departed parents—the so-called “ancestor worship” of the Chinese; it scarcely extends beyond three generations in any case, and as regards the lowly, not beyond one—is the chief incentive, other than self-respect and the innate desire to grow and to become and be a superior human being, to which Confucius appeals.

  In the “Li Ki” the nature of this appeal is thus revealed: “Although his parents be dead, when a son is inclined to do what is good, he should think that he will thereby transmit the good name of his parents and so carry his wish into effect. When he is inclined to do what is not good, he should think that he will thereby bring disgrace on the name of his parents and in no wise carry his wish into effect.” (Bk. x., sect. i., 17.)

  And in yet simpler and stronger terms in this passage: “When his parents are dead and the son carefully watches over his actions so that a bad name involving his parents may not be handed down, he may be said to be able to maintain his piety to the end.” (Li Ki, bk. xxi., sect. ii., 12.)

  This union of all the sentiments which compose the piety of a son toward his parents, both while they are living and after their death, is set forth in these words in the same book: “The superior man while his parents are alive, reverently nourishes them; and when they are dead, reverently sacrifices to them. His chief thought is how, to the end of life, not to disgrace them.” (Bk. xxi., sect. i., 5.)

  And in the “Shi King,” the Book of Odes, it is thus beautifully phrased:

  • “When early dawn unseals my eyes,
  • Before my mind my parents rise.”

  • (Minor Odes, Decade v., Ode 2, quoted also in the Li Ki, bk. xxi., sect. i., 7.)

  CHAPTER V

  THE STATE

  In logical progression Confucius rises from a discussion of duties toward the family to those toward the state, which social organization he regards as only a larger household, having all its ethical principles founded on those of the primary unit.

  The Foundation of Government. “This is meant by ‘To rightly govern the state, it is necessary first to regulate one’s own family.’ One cannot instruct others who cannot instruct his own children. Without going beyond the family, the prince may learn all the lessons of statecraft, filial piety by which the sovereign is also served, fraternal submission by which older men and superiors are also served, kindness by which also the common people should be ministered unto.” (Great Learning, c. ix., v. 1.)

  “From the loving example of one family, love extends throughout the state; from its courtesy, courtesy extends throughout the state; while the ambition and perverse recklessness of one man may plunge the entire state into rebellion and disorder.” (Great Learning, c. ix., v. 3.)

  By these words in “The Great Learning” the position of the family as the foundation of society and of its proper regulation as the basis for government is dwelt upon. The significance of this is perhaps obvious though not too familiar in these days when family ties and family discipline both tend to loosen. In the “Hsiâo King,” the application of these principles is adroitly indicated as follows: “The filial piety with which the superior man serves his parents may be transferred as loyalty to the ruler; the fraternal duty with which he serves his elder brother may be transferred as deference to elders; his regulation of his family may be transferred as good government in any official position.” (C. xiv.)

  In the “Li Ki” the same results are deduced from the three primary human functions and duties as there set forth: “Husband and wife have their separate functions; between father and son there should be affection; between ruler and minister there should be strict application to their respective duties. If these three relations be rightly discharged, all other things will follow.” (Bk. xxiv., 8.)

  The strictly practical character also of this application is revealed by this saying of Yu Tze concerning the fount of orderly behaviour on the part of the citizen: “They are few who, being filial and fraternal, are fond of offending against their superiors. There have been none who, not liking to offend against their superiors, have been fond of stirring up confusion.” (Analects, bk. i., c. ii., v. 1.)

  To support and elucidate this view, also, Confucius cites the Book of Odes saying: “From them you learn the more immediate duty of serving one’s father and the remoter one of serving one’s prince.” (Analects, bk. xvii., c. ix., v. 6.)

  And again he cites and even quotes the “Shu King” to show the immediate and causal relation between the exercise of filial and fraternal piety and the establishment of government upon a sound and secure foundation: “What does the ‘Shu King’ say of filial piety? ‘You are filial, you discharge your fraternal duties. These qualities are displayed in government. This, then, also constitutes the exercise of government.’ ” (Analects, bk. ii., c. xxi., v. 2.)

  The Function of Government. “To govern means to rectify.” (Analects, bk. xii., c. xvii.)

  This from the “Analects” is repeated with greater particularity in the “Li Ki,” accompanied by a lesson which the Chinese sages, who were almost invariably the instructors of princes, never wearied of insisting upon, thus: “Government is rectification. When the ruler does right, all men will imitate his self-control. What the ruler does, the people will follow. How should they follow him in what he does not do?” (Bk. xxiv., 7.)

  This also, in the passage from the “Analects” just now quoted from, is similarly explained by Confucius, thus: “Ke K‘ang Tze asked Confucius about government. Confucius replied, ‘To govern means to rectify. If you lead with correctness, who will dare not to be correct?’ ” (Bk. xii., c. xvii.)

  In the “Li Ki” the sentiment is expressed: “As men are constituted, the thing most important to them is government.” (Bk. xxiv., 6.)

  This refers, of course, to its indispensable office of rectification; and its importance is vividly illustrated by Mencius in the following passage, which also points out the normal play of cause and effect in the operation of government upon men’s characters: “When right government prevails in the empire, men of little virtue submit to those of great virtue and men of little worth to those of great worth. When bad government prevails in the empire, men of little power submit to those of great power and the weak to the strong. Both are in accord with divine law.” (Bk. iv., pt. i., c. vii., v. 1.)

  The mode—or, rather, one of the simpler and more obvious modes—by which this may be accomplished, Confucius indicates in this saying: “Employ the upright and put aside the crooked; in this way, the crooked may be made to be upright.” (Analects, bk. xii., c. xxii., v. 3.)

  And that, in order that government may be stable, not to say benign, this course must perforce be followed, he inculcates in this colloquy: “The duke Gae asked, saying: ‘What should be done in order to secure the submission of the people?’ Confucius replied, ‘Advance the upright and set aside the crooked, then the people will submit. Advance the crooked and set aside the upright, then the people will not submit.’ ” (Analects, bk. ii., c. xix.)

  Government Exists for the Benefit of the Governed. “The duke of She asked about government. The Master said, ‘Good government obtains when those who are near are made happy, and those who are far are attracted.’ ” (Analects, bk. xiii., c. xvi.)

  This Mencius reiterated in this direct fashion: “The people are the most important element; . . . the sovereign, least important.” (Bk. vii., pt. ii., c. xiv., v. 1.)

  The “Li Ki” quotes the “Book of Poetry” as saying that government is fraternal and parental—rather than paternal, in the offensive sense usually attached to that word when applied to government—thus:

  • “The happy and gracious sovereign
  • Is the father and mother of the people.”

  • (Bk. xxvi., 1.)

  And perhaps even more strikingly:

  • “When among any of the people there was a death,
  • I crawled upon my knees to help them.”

  • (Bk. xxvi., 3.)

  This, moreover, is not wholly sentimentalism; for with much practical force Confucius says:

  “Therefore, if remoter people are not submissive, all the influences of civil culture and virtue are to be cultivated to attract them to be so; and when they have been so attracted, they must be made contented and tranquil.

  “ ‘Now here are you, Yew and K‘ew, assisting your chief. Remoter people are not submissive and, with your help, he cannot attract them to him. In his own territory, there are divisions and downfalls, leavings and separations, and, with your help, he cannot preserve it. And yet he is planning these hostile movements within our state.’ ” (Analects, bk. xvi., c. i., v. 11, 12, 13.)

  The hard-headed, severely practical Mencius, who about a century later exemplified in governmental theories so many of the most valuable of the principles laid down by Confucius, gives this yet more concrete form in these words: “If the seasons of husbandry be not interfered with, the grain will be more than can be eaten. If close nets are not allowed to enter the pools and ponds, the fishes and turtles will be more than can be consumed. If the axes and bills enter the hills and forests only at the proper time, the wood will be more than can be used. When the grain and fish and turtles are more than can be eaten and there is more wood than can be used, this enables the people to nourish their living and bury their dead, without any feeling against any. This condition, in which the people nourish their living and bury their dead, is the first step in kingly government.” (Bk. i., pt. i., v. 3.)

  The foregoing precedent, more than two thousand years old, for modern agricultural departments and experiment stations and yet more recently instituted and still suspiciously regarded conservation movements is sufficiently startling; but Mencius goes far beyond that, as, for instance, when he says to King Seuen of Ts‘e: “Therefore an intelligent ruler will regulate the livelihood of the people, so as to make sure that they shall have sufficient wherewith to serve their parents and also sufficient wherewith to support their wives and children.” (Bk. i., pt. i., c. vii., v. 21.)

  This picture of the blessings of a truly beneficent government and of its attractions, when accompanied by widespread prosperity of families, has been so recently presented in the United States of America, to which within three or four generations the needy and oppressed have thronged to make it one of the greatest of the nations, that it is surely worth while farther to exhibit the views of this later Chinese sage upon this subject: “Now if Your Majesty will institute a government whose action will all be benevolent, this will cause all the officers in the empire to wish to stand in Your Majesty’s court, and the farmers all to wish to plough in Your Majesty’s fields, and the merchants, both travelling and stationary, all to wish to have their goods in Your Majesty’s market-places, and travelling strangers all to wish to make their tours on Your Majesty’s roads, and all throughout the empire who feel aggrieved by their rulers, to wish to come and complain to Your Majesty. And when they are so bent, who can hold them back?” (Bk. i., pt. i., c. vii., v. 18.)

  The folly of the contrary policy and the office which it has performed in causing immigration into countries which are well-governed, that is, governed in the interests of the people, Mencius expatiates upon as follows: “Now among the shepherds of men throughout the empire, there is not one who does not find pleasure in killing men. If there were one who did not find pleasure in killing men, all the people in the empire would look towards him with outstretched necks. Such being indeed the case, the people would flock to him, as water flows downward with a rush, which no one can repress.” (Bk. i., pt. i., c. vi., v. 6.)

  In “The Great Learning” it is put thus, sententiously: “To centralize wealth is to disperse the people; to distribute wealth is to collect the people.” (C. x., v. 9.)

  And in the “Li Ki” Confucius is reported as saying: “With the ancients, in their government the love of men was the great point.” (Bk. xxiv., 9.)

  Mencius erected his advanced and detailed propositions concerning good government upon benevolence or the love of men, in an age when discussions concerning first principles, like “Love thine enemies!” over against “Be just to thine enemies and reserve love for friends!” had given way to discussions of applied principles, like Tolstoian individualism or communism. Accordingly Mencius, addressing princes as their tutor, admonished them, saying: “Let benevolent government be put in practice and the people will be delighted with it, as if they were relieved from hanging by their heels.” (Bk. ii., pt. i., c. i., v. 13.)

  And with this in another place he coupled an inducement and a promise, thus: “If you will put benevolence in practice in your government, your people will love you and all in authority, and will be ready to die for them.” (Bk. i., pt. ii., c. xii., v. 3.)

  This has been said in the “Analects” in another way and with a warning as well as a promise, in these words: “If the people have plenty, their prince will not be left to want alone. If the people are in want, their prince will not be able to enjoy plenty alone.” (Analects, bk. xii., c. ix., v. 4.)

  The responsibility for evil conditions, also, Confucius fastens unescapably upon the corrupt or incompetent administrator who seeks to profit and enjoy, not as a reward for genuine service of his people, but because, in effect if not by design, he has despoiled them. This is his scathing denunciation of such rulers: “How can he be used as a guide to a blind man who does not support him when tottering or raise him up when fallen? And further, you speak wrongly. When a tiger or a wild bull escapes from his cage, when a tortoise or gem is injured in its repository—whose is the fault?” (Analects, bk. xvi., c. i., v. 6, 7.)

  The heartless suggestions regarding the unfortunate of earth’s children, which are often brought forward on pseudo-scientific grounds, find no welcome in the breast of the sage, as this will show: “Ke K‘ang Tse asked Confucius about government, saying, ‘What do you say to killing the unprincipled for the good of the principled?’ Confucius replied, ‘Sir, in carrying on your government, why should you use killing at all? Let your desires be shown to be for what is good, and the people will be good. The relation between superiors and inferiors is like that between the wind and the grass; the grass must bend when the wind blows across it.’ ” (Analects, bk. xii., c. xix.)

  The “Analects” enjoin, instead, infinite mercy and commiseration for the human wrecks into which evil government distorts our common human nature, as in this passage, quoting the philosopher Tsang, with manifest approval: “The chief of the Mang family having appointed Yang Foo to be chief criminal judge, the latter consulted the philosopher Tsang. Tsang said, ‘The rulers have failed in their duties and the people consequently have been disorganized for a long time. When you have found out the truth about any accusation, be grieved over it, pity the malefactor, and take no pride in your superior discernment.’ ” (Analects, bk. xix., c. xix.)

  And in the “Shu King,” the ancient worthy, Pan-Kang, is represented to have said: “Do not despise the old and experienced and do not make little of the helpless and young.” (Pt. iv., bk. vii., 2.)

  It is to fidelity to this fundamental principle of correct government, i.e., that it was instituted and maintained for the benefit of the governed, and to the correlate principles by which it may be so applied, that Confucius refers when he says: “When right principles prevail in the empire, there will be no controversies among the common people.” (Analects, bk. xvi., c. ii., v. 3.)

  The true requisite for the attainment of anti-poverty aspirations, namely, that the poor be not despoiled, and thus all things be turned topsyturvy in the state, Confucius sets forth in the “Analects”: “When the people keep their respective places, there will be no poverty; when harmony prevails, there will be no scarcity of people; when there is repose, there will be no rebellions.” (Analects, bk. xvi., c. i., v. 10.)

  The view of the immediate disciples of Confucius as to what a well-governed country would look like, as well as their confidence that their great teacher could have realized it, had he been invested with the sovereignty, are announced in these burning sentences: “Were our Master in the position of the prince of a state or the chief of a family, we should find this description verified: He would plant the people and forthwith they would be established; he would lead them and forthwith they would follow him; he would make them happy and forthwith multitudes would resort to his dominions; he would cheer them and forthwith they would become harmonious. While he lived, he would be glorious. When he died, he would be bitterly lamented.” (Analects, bk. xix., c. xxv., v. 4.)

  The Essentials of Good Government. “Tsze-kung asked about government. The Master said, ‘The requisites of government are that there be sufficiency of food, sufficiency of military equipment, and the confidence of the people in their ruler.’

  “Tsze-kung said, ‘If it cannot be helped and one of these must be dispensed with, which of the three should be forgone first?’ ‘The military equipment,’ said the Master.

  “Tsze-kung again asked, ‘If it cannot be helped and one of the remaining two must be dispensed with, which of them should be forgone?’ The Master answered, ‘Part with the food. From of old death has been the lot of all men; but if the people have not confidence in their rulers, there is no stability for the state.’ ” (Analects, bk. xii., c. vii.)

  The manner in which the confidence so discussed in the “Analects” may be gained and held is variously described but perhaps never more aptly than in this passage from “The Great Learning”:

  “On this account, the ruler will first take pains about his own virtue. Possessing virtue, he will win the people. Possessing the people, he will win the realm. Possessing the realm, he will command revenue. Possessing revenue, he will have resources for all demands.

  “Virtue is the root; ample revenue the fruit.

  “If he make the root secondary and the fruit the prime object, he will but wrangle with his people and teach them rapine.” (C. x., v. 6, 7, 8.)

  In the “Analects,” also, it is remarked: “The superior man, having obtained their confidence, may impose tasks upon the people. If he have not gained their confidence, they will deem his acts oppressive.” (Bk. xix., c. x.)

  Mencius, however, much more circumstantially describes the essentials of a worthy government in a tribute to the glorious rule of King Wan, in these words:

  “The king said, ‘May I hear from you what the truly kingly government is?’

  “ ‘Formerly,’ was the reply, ‘King Wan’s government of K‘e was as follows: Farmers cultivated one ninth of the land for the government; descendants of government servants were pensioned; at the passes and in the markets, strangers were inspected, but goods were not taxed; there were no prohibitions respecting the ponds and weirs; the wives and children of criminals were not involved in their guilt. There were old widowers, old widows, old bachelors and maidens, fatherless or orphan children;—these four classes are the most destitute of the people and have none to whom they can tell their wants; and King Wan, in the institution of his government with its benevolent influence, made them the first objects of his regard.’ ” (Bk. i., pt. ii., c. v., v. 3.)

  The benign consequences of beneficent rule and the confidence and willing obedience of the people when the ruler is worthy of it, Mencius sets forth thus: “It is said in the Book of History, that as soon as Tang began his work of executing justice, he commenced with Ko. The whole empire had confidence in him. When he pursued his work in the east, the rude tribes on the west murmured. So did those on the north when he was engaged in the south. The cry was,—‘Why does he leave us until the last?’ The people looked unto him as when looking in time of severe drought to clouds and rainbows. The men of the markets stopped not, the husbandmen did not turn from their labours. He blessed the people as he punished their rulers. It was like an opportune shower and the people rejoiced.” (Bk. i., pt. ii., c. xi., v. 2.)

  How he responded to King Seuen of Ts‘e about the means of securing this limitless confidence of the people is thus recorded: “The King said, ‘What virtue must there be in order to the attainment of imperial sway?’ Mencius replied, ‘The love and protection of the people; with this, there is no power which can prevent a ruler from attaining it.’ ” (Bk. i., pt. i., c. vii., v. 3.)

  In “Shuo Yuan” (bk. xi.), Yen Yuan says: “I wish to have a wise king or a sage ruler and to become his minister. I should cause there to be no reason to repair the city walls, the moats and ditches to be crossed by no foeman, and the swords and spears to be melted into tools of agriculture. I should cause the whole world to have no calamity of warfare anywhere for thousands of years,” and Confucius is reported to have said, “What I wish is the plan of the son of Yen.”

  In the “Great Model,” however, Confucius yet more clearly sets forth the utilitarian basis of all government, asserting that it is instituted among men to secure for them the five blessings and secure them against the six calamities. The five blessings are: Ample means, long life, health, virtuous character, and an agreeable personal appearance; the six calamities, early death, sickness, misery, poverty, a repulsive appearance, and weakness.

  Certainly these, as objects to be attained by civil government, embrace all that even the most enlightened peoples of modern times aim at, hope for, and struggle to achieve.

  In the “History of Han” (chap. xci.), Pan Ku gives the following account, strangely applicable to our own day, of the consequences of the perversion of government to the enrichment of the few and the impoverishment of the many: “Under the influence of luxury and extravagance, the students and the common people all disregarded the regulations and neglected the primary occupation. The number of farmers decreased, and that of merchants increased. Grain was insufficient, but luxurious goods were plenty. After the age of Duke Huan of Ch‘i and Duke Wên and Tsin, moral character was greatly corrupted, and social order was confused. Each state had a different political system, and each family had different customs. The physical desires were uncontrolled, and extravagant consumption and social usurpation had no end. Therefore, the merchant transported goods which were difficult to obtain; the artisans produced articles which had no practical use; and the student practised ways which were contrary to orthodoxy; all of them pursued the temporary fashion for the getting of money. The hypocritical people turned away from truth in order to make fame, and guilty men ran risks in order to secure profit. While those who took the states by the deed of usurpation or regicide became kings or dukes, the men who founded their rich families by robbery became heroes. Morality could not control the gentlemen, and punishment could not make the common people afraid. Among the rich, the wood and earth wore embroidery, and the dog and horse had a superabundance of meat and grain. But, among the poor, even the coarsest clothes could not be completed; beans made their food and water was their drink. Although they were all in the same rank of common people, the rich, by the power of wealth, raised themselves to kings, while the others, although their actual condition was slavery and imprisonment, had no angry appearance. Therefore, those who were deceitful and criminal were comfortable and proud in the world, but those who held principles and followed reason could not escape hunger and cold. Such an influence came from the government, because there was no regulation to control the economic life.”

  In the “Li Ki” Confucius lays bare the cause which creates such consequences, thus: “The small man, when poor, feels the pinch of his straitened circumstances; and when rich, is liable to become proud. Under the pinch of that poverty, he may proceed to steal; and when proud, he may proceed to deeds of disorder. The social rules recognize these feelings of men, and lay down definite regulations for them, to serve as preventions for the people. Hence, when the sages distributed riches and honours, they made the rich not have power enough to be proud; and kept the poor from being pinched and the honourable men not be intractable to those above them. In this way the causes of disorder would more and more disappear.” (Bk. xxvii., 2.)

  And Tung Chung-Shu says of these conditions: “It is said by Confucius, ‘We are not troubled with fears of poverty, but are troubled with fears of a lack of equality of wealth.’ Therefore, when there is here a concentration of wealth, there must be an emptiness there. Great riches make the people proud; and great poverty makes them wretched. When they are wretched, they would become robbers; when they are proud, they would become oppressors; it is human nature. From the nature of the average man, the sages discovered the origin of disorder. Therefore, when they established social laws and divided up the social orders, they made the rich able to show their distinction without being proud, and the poor able to make their living without misery; this was the standard for the equalization of society. In this way, wealth was sufficient, and the high and low classes were peaceful. Hence, society was easily governed well. In the present day, the regulations are abandoned, so that everyone pursues what he wants. As human wants have no limit, the whole society becomes indulgent without end. The great men of the high class, notwithstanding they have great fortune, lament the insufficiency of their wealth; while the small people of the lower classes are depressed. Therefore, the rich increase in eagerness for money, and do not wish to do good with it; while the poor violate the laws every day, and nothing can stop them. Hence, society is difficult to govern well.” (Many Dewdrops of the Spring and Autumn, bk. xxvii.)

  The Nourishment of the People. “When a country is well governed, poverty and a mean condition are things to be ashamed of. When a country is ill governed, riches and honours are things to be ashamed of.” (Analects, bk. viii., c. xiii., v. 3.)

  The meaning of this passage from the “Analects” is, that the most important function of government is to secure the equitable distribution of the products of human labour to the end that no deserving person shall suffer want. Obviously, also, if the mere acquisition of wealth were, by reason of just conditions, truly a test of desert, the most important step would have been taken toward the rectification of men; for if virtue were the only road to affluence, many are they who would walk therein.

  Mencius put this convincingly, thus: “When a sage governs the world, he will cause pulse and grain to be as abundant as water and fire. If pulse and grain were as abundant as water and fire, should the people be otherwise than virtuous?” (Bk. vii., pt. i., c. xxiii., v. 3.)

  The first office of the government in this regard is, of course, instruction; and it is interesting to find the most modern of governmental inventions, an agricultural department and its stations, thus forestalled by Mencius: “Let mulberry trees be planted about the homesteads with their five mow and persons of fifty years may be clothed with silk. In keeping fowls, pigs, dogs, and swine, let not their breeding time be neglected and persons of seventy years may eat flesh.” (Bk. i., pt. i., c. iii., v. 4.)

  And the yet more recent innovation, conservation, was pronounced a duty in the “Li Ki” in these words: “Where the wide and open country is greatly neglected and uncultivated, it speaks ill for those in authority.” (Bk. i., sect. i., pt. v., c. iii., v. 11.)

  Both in its external relations with other states and peoples, and in its internal affairs, Confucius held that the government must frown upon conduct which proceeds from sordid motives. It is put, briefly and pointedly, in this saying: “In a state, gain is not to be considered prosperity, but its prosperity will be found in righteousness.” (Great Learning, c. x., v. 23.)

  Mencius dwells upon one phase of the significance of this text, in answering a king who sought gain for his kingdom to the disadvantage of others, in this fashion: “If Your Majesty say, ‘What is to be done to profit my kingdom?’ the great officers will say, ‘What is to be done to profit our families?’ and the inferior officers and the common people will say, ‘What is to be done to profit us?’ Superiors and inferiors will try to snatch this profit the one from the other and the kingdom will be endangered.” (Bk. i., c. i., v. 4.)

  The “Li Ki” supplies this picture of the demoralization which reigns when the government does not restrain the powerful and the unscrupulous: “The strong press upon the weak, the many are cruel to the few, the knowing impose upon the dull, the bold make it bitter for the timid, the sick are not nursed, the old and young, the orphans and solitaries are neglected; such is the great disorder that ensues!” (Bk. xvii., sect. i., 12.)

  Mencius makes a most pertinent inquiry, the answer to which may well stagger the advocates of unrestricted laissez-faire, in the following colloquy with King Hwuy of Leang:

  “ ‘Is there any difference between killing a man with a stick and with a sword?’ The king said, ‘There is no difference.’

  “ ‘Is there any difference between doing it with a sword and with the government?’ The reply was, ‘There is no difference.’

  “ ‘In your kitchen there is fat meat; in your stables there are fat horses. Your people have the look of hunger, and on the wilds lie those who have died of famine. This is leading on beasts to devour men.’ ” (Bk. i., pt. i., c. iv., v. 2, 3, 4.)

  Mencius, however, by no means approved of applying undeservedly harsh epithets even to those who despoil the people, or of intemperately denouncing, by means of false similes, their conduct, however reprehensible: “Wan Chang said, ‘The princes of the present day take from their people just as a robber despoils his victim. Yet if they put a good face of propriety on their gifts, the superior man receives them. I venture to ask how you explain this.’

  “Mencius answered: ‘Do you think that if there should arise a truly Imperial sovereign, he would collect the princes of the present day and put them to death? Or would he admonish them and, on their not changing their ways, put them to death? Indeed, to call everyone who takes what does not properly belong to him, a robber, is pushing a point of resemblance to the utmost and insisting on the most refined idea of righteousness.’ ” (Bk. v., pt. ii., c. iv., v. 5.)

  The idea of Utopia, where everybody’s desires, however extensive, will be sated, is thus entirely foreign to the conception of Confucius and his followers. It is also said in the “Many Dewdrops of the Spring and Autumn”: “The objects of wants are limitless; the supply can never be adequate. Therefore is there the keen sense of deprivation.” (Bk. xxvii.)

  But fair and equitable distribution is necessary, both for the material and the ethical well-being of the community. And in the Commentary of Kung-Yang on “The Spring and Autumn,” Ho Hsiu is represented as saying concerning the deadly destruction of the poor by the competition of the rich and powerful, these words which are so applicable to these modern days of trusts and combinations: “When the rich compete with the poor, even though the law were made by Kau Yau, nothing can prevent the strong from pressing on the weak.”

  Confucius warns of the consequences of driving the people to desperation, thus: “The man who is fond of daring and is discontented with his poverty, will proceed to insubordination.” (Analects, bk. viii., c. x.)

  Mencius gave much attention to the duty of the ruler to provide for the certain support, comfort, and even pleasure and entertainment of the people,—not the enervating, brutal, degrading, pauperizing largess of ancient Rome, but protection against force, fraud, and fortune, the triad of enemies of the just distribution of the products of labour. These are a few of his aptest statements:

  “If Your Majesty loves wealth, let the people be able to gratify the same feeling and what difficulty will there be about your attaining the Imperial sway?” (Bk. i., pt. ii., c. iv., v. 4.)

  “If Your Majesty now will make pleasure a thing common to the people and yourself, the Imperial sway awaits you.” (Bk. i., pt. i., c. i., v. 8.)

  “The ancients caused the people to have pleasure as well as themselves, and therefore they could enjoy it.” (Bk. i., pt. i., c. i., v. 3.)

  “When a ruler rejoices in the joy of his people, they also rejoice in his joy; when he grieves at the sorrow of his people, they also grieve at his sorrow. A common feeling of joy will pervade the empire, a common feeling of sorrow the same. In such a condition, it cannot be but that the ruler will attain to the Imperial dignity.” (Bk. i., pt. ii., c. iv., v. 3.)

  The reverse side of the picture this reverent follower of Confucius thus presents: “Their feeling thus (i.e., disaffected and disloyal) is for no other reason than that you do not permit the people to have pleasure as well as yourself.” (Bk. i., pt. ii., c. i., v. 6.)

  The establishment of public holidays is also enjoined, in which all classes of the people partake under the guidance of public officials. At these there was the “Rite of District Drinking,” i.e., the custom of liberal alcoholic potations in celebration of the occasion and as a part of the good-fellowship. Wines, brewed and distilled liquors appear to have been known to the ancient Chinese; and Confucius favoured festivals at which, under proper ceremonial restrictions, jollity and merriment were given full rein. The manner of drinking but not the amount was strictly regulated.

  Most vividly and in sharp contrast with these days of high prices and dear living, with the growth of luxury, the diminution of the marriage rate, and the yet greater fall of the birth rate, Mencius presents this view of what good government should provide for the citizens and through them for mankind: “At that time, in the seclusion of home there were no pining women, and outside of it no unmarried men.” (Bk. i., pt. ii., c. v., v. 5.)

  And here he affirms the consequences of evil government consequences so alarmingly like those over which the great nations are now lamenting as to awaken wonder whether the same causes may not always be at work when such results are again found: “In years of calamity and famine, the weak and old, lying in the ditches and water-courses, and the able-bodied, scattered to the four quarters, have been myriads in number.” (Mencius, bk. i., pt. ii., c. xii., v. 2.)

  It has not required physical calamity or famine, also, to bring these demoralizing conditions to the peoples of the most modern and civilized nations!

  This worthy apostle of the doctrine of Confucius, however, has yet clearer insight into the causes of the utter demoralization of the despairing and destitute. What a sermon upon the text, “The destruction of the poor is their poverty!” is spoken in these two sentences: “In such circumstances they only try to save themselves from death and are afraid they will not succeed. What opportunity have such to cultivate propriety and righteousness?” (Bk. i., pt. i., c. vii., v. 22.)

  Or, indeed, opportunity or inducement to cultivate efficiency as men and workmen?

  This involves the germ of the newest truths conceived by modern statesmen, namely: That absolute assurance of freedom from want, for self and dependents, this to be obtainable only by efficient labour but as its sure reward, is the most powerful incentive to efficiency and industry; and that, whenever the conditions created by the government fall short of this, their influence is to this extent demoralizing and destructive to the men, women, and children who form the nation.

  Upon this Mencius said to King Seuen of Ts‘e, in a memorable conversation upon the duties of a ruler: “Only men of training can, without a certain livelihood, maintain a fixed heart. As to the people, if they have not a certain livelihood, it follows that they will not have a fixed heart. If they do not have a fixed heart, there is nothing which they will not do in self-abandonment, moral deflection, depravity, and wild license. When they have thus been involved in crime, to pursue them and punish them is to entrap the people.” (Bk. i., pt. i., c. vii., v. 20.)

  This light is even now just dawning upon the minds of the pioneers in progress in the most advanced nations. Fortunate that people which first realizes it in its national life and practice, and lamentable the case of that nation and its people who longest sin against that light!

  Mencius, following out the Confucian concept of the state as founded upon the family, boldly asserts that good government must be parental. The word “paternal” would have had no terrors, surely, in a land where the most sacred name, next to that of God himself, is father. And if the people, as in a republic, choose them who are to rule over them, this would seem but to increase the obligation to deal in a fatherly and not an unfatherly manner, toward the people who have so displayed their trust.

  Accordingly Mencius could find nothing worse to say of a delinquent ruler than this, quoted from Lung Tze: “When the parent of the people causes them to look distressed and, after toiling the entire year, not to be able to support their parents, so that they must borrow to increase their income and so that the old and the little children are found lying in the ditches and streams—where, then, is there anything parental in his relation to the people?” (Bk. iii., pt. i., c. iii., v. 7.)

  Confucius fully shared this view as clearly appears from all that he has spoken concerning the character and duties of the great and worthy ruler of his fellow-men. These sayings are scattered throughout this book; but this reply to one of his disciples discloses in few words his conception of the highest qualities attainable by a true servant of the people: “Tsze-kung said: ‘Suppose the case of a man extensively conferring benefits on the people, and able to assist all, what would you say of him? Might he be called perfectly virtuous?’ The Master said: ‘Why speak only of virtue in connection with him? Must he not have the qualities of the sage?’ ” (Analects, bk. vi., c. xxviii., v. 1.)

  In the “Li Ki” this parable is told to illustrate the people’s well-grounded terror of misrule: “In passing by the side of Mount Thâi, Confucius came upon a woman who was wailing bitterly by a grave. The Master bowed forward to the crossbar, and hastened to her; and then sent Tsze-loo to question her. ‘Your wailing,’ said he, ‘is altogether like that of one who has suffered sorrow on sorrow.’ She replied, ‘It is so. Formerly my husband’s father was killed here by a tiger. My husband was also killed by one, and now my son has died in the same way.’ The Master said, ‘Why do you not leave this place?’ The answer was, ‘There is no oppressive government here.’ The Master then said to his disciples: ‘Remember this, my little children. Oppressive government is more terrible than tigers.’ ” (Bk. ii., sect. ii., pt. iii., 10.)

  The Middle Path in Political Economy. “Hence there is this saying: ‘Some labour with their minds and some with their muscles. They who labour with their minds, govern others; they who labour with their muscles are governed by others. They who are governed by others, support them; they who govern others, are supported by them.’ This is a principle universally recognized.” (Mencius, bk. iii., pt. i., c. iv., v. 6.)

  In the time of Confucius, it does not appear that either extreme, anarchism or communism, was so urged upon men’s notice as to compel his attention; but Mencius, from whose sayings this passage is taken and who lived over a century later, was frequently confronted with their specious arguments.

  This deliverance was in reply to the following argument in favour of Tolstoian individualism, presented to Mencius by Ch‘in Seang: “Now wise and able princes should cultivate the ground equally and along with their people and eat the fruit of their labours. They should prepare their own meals, morning and evening, while at the same time they carry on the government.” (Mencius, bk. iii., pt. i., c. iv., v. 3.)

  The doctrine of the division of labour and of the interchange of services and of the products of labour, Mencius again supported in this passage: “If you do not have an exchange of the products of labour and an interchange of service, so that too much there will make good too little here, then farmers will have a surplus of grain and women of cloth. If you have such an interchange, carpenters and wagon-makers may earn and receive their sustenance.” (Bk. iii., pt. ii., c. iv., v. 3.)

  The doctrine of extreme individualism, when presented in another guise, is thus characterized by the Duke King of Ts‘e, as reported by Mencius: “Not to be able to command others and at the same time to refuse to receive their commands, is to cut one’s self off from all intercourse with men.” (Bk. iv., pt. i., c. vii., v. 2.)

  At another time he thus showed the destructive and anarchical effects, now only too well known by experience, of the full adoption of either the extreme individualistic or the extreme communistic view: “Yang’s principle is: ‘Every man for himself,’ which does not recognize the superior claim of the sovereign. Mih’s principle is: ‘Equal favour for all,’ which does not acknowledge the superior claim of a father. But to acknowledge neither sovereign nor father is to lapse into barbarism. . . . If the principles of Yang or of Mih were urged and the principles of Confucius were not urged, these perverse reasonings would delude the people and check the course of benevolence and righteousness. When such are checked, beasts will be led forth to devour men and men will devour one another.” (Bk. iii., pt. ii., c. ix., v. 9.)

  Provision for the Aged, Widows, Orphans, and Other Unfortunates. “A competent provision was secured for the aged till their death, employment for the able-bodied, and the means of growing up to the young. They showed kindness and compassion to widows, orphans, childless men, and those who were disabled by disease; so that they were all sufficiently maintained. Men had their proper work and women their homes.” (Li Ki, bk. vii., sect. i., 2.)

  The foregoing is the description of the blissful consequences of good government, contained in “The Grand Course” as set forth in the “Li Ki.”

  Mencius made the support of the old, with reverence and honour, the first care of the state, saying: “If there were a prince in the empire who knew well how to nourish the old, all good men would feel that he was the right one for them to rally around.” (Bk. vii., pt. i., c. xxii., v. 1.)

  It is by no means sufficient that the old be supported; they must be supported respectably and, what is more to the point, respectfully. The doctrines of Confucius did not tolerate want of homage to the old. This the following passages from the “Li Ki” abundantly illustrate: “Yü, Hsiâ, Yin, and Kâu produced the greatest kings that have appeared under heaven and there was not one of them who neglected age. Long under heaven has honour been paid to length of years! To do so is next to service of one’s parents.” (Bk. xxi., sect. ii., 15.) “There were five things by means of which the ancient kings secured the good government of the whole kingdom: the honour which they paid to the virtuous, to the noble, and to the old, the reverence which they showed the aged, and their kindness to the young. By these five things they maintained the stability of their kingdom.” (Bk. xxi., sect. i., 13.)

  Confucius is quoted in the same book as saying: “When those in authority at their courts show respect for the aged, the people will be filial.” (Bk. xxvii., 24.)

  And in another place in the “Li Ki” he supplies this apt test of a good government of a good people: “When they saw an old man, people driving or walking gave him the road. Men who had white hairs mingling with the black did not carry burdens along the highways.” (Bk. xxi., 17.)

  But it is not alone the aged who are by the authorities of a well-governed state made the objects of affectionate, prudent care, not as a matter of charity but as a right. Mencius in these words of practical wisdom offered mutual insurance as a solution for this, effectual so far as anything human can equalize inequalities, to ward off disasters that overwhelm a man when standing utterly alone. The following expression of his views has a decidedly twentieth-century, even Bismarckian tang: “In the fields of a district, those who belong to the same nine squares, render all friendly offices to one another in their going out and coming in [i. e., death and birth], aid one another to safeguard life and property, and support one another in sickness.” (Bk. iii., pt. i., c. iii., v. 18.)

  Mencius also thus describes another sort of social insurance, already prevalent in those days: “In the spring they examined the ploughing and supplied any deficiency of seed; in the fall they examined the reaping and supplied any deficiency of yield.” (Bk. i., pt. ii., c. iv., v. 5.)

  Surely if such a system were now in vogue in China, effective and nation-wide, a famine would be unknown and indeed unthinkable!

  Taxation, Innocent and Destructive. “If in the market-place, he levy a ground rent on the shops but do not tax the goods, or enforce proper regulations without levying a ground rent,—then all the merchants of the empire will be pleased and will wish to have their goods in his marketplace. If at his frontier there be an inspection of persons but no import duties, all travellers throughout the empire will be pleased, and wish to make their tours on his roads.” (Mencius, bk. ii., pt. i., c. v., v. 2, 3.)

  Mencius, as in the foregoing, considered the question of the proper modes of levying taxes, taking into account their effect upon those who are engaged in agriculture, in commerce, and in the trades. In his day, the question of the proper methods of taxation was evidently a live one, as in these days; and about the same issues arose in all essential particulars. The foregoing quotation from the Book of Mencius favours “ground rent,” i. e., a tax upon the ground, itself, now known as the “single tax” as proposed by Henry George,—or “proper regulations,” by which is doubtless meant licenses for use—but not a tax on goods, i. e., upon personal property. Still less does he favour import duties.

  The reasons which he gives for opposition to import duties were undoubtedly valid in China and as between the various states which compose the Chinese empire, as they would be against import duties of one state of the United States against other states. Especially in this day when, by reason of the marvellous improvement of means of communication and transportation, the world has grown so small, they may also seem valid, save in very exceptional circumstances, as regards the entire sisterhood of nations.

  Mencius thus describes, in quite a “single tax” fashion, the origin of “ground rents” levied in order to appropriate to the community the value of a superior location: “In olden times in the market men exchanged their wares for the wares of others and merely had certain officers to keep order. It chanced there was a mean fellow who made it a point to find a conspicuous mound and get upon it. Thence he commanded the right and the left, so as to draw into his net all the bargains of the market. All considered his conduct contemptible and so they proceeded to levy a tax upon his wares. The tax upon merchants thus sprang from this fellow’s sordidness.” (Bk. ii., pt. ii., c. x., v. 7.)

  Mencius could find no excuse, however, for duties, whether internal or import, as the following conversation shows:

  “Tae Ying-che said, ‘I am not able at present to get along at once with the tithes only and so to abolish the duties imposed at the ports of entry and in the markets. With your leave, however, I will reduce both these duties until next year and then will abolish them altogether. What do you think of such a course?’

  “Mencius said, ‘Here is a man who every day appropriates some of his neighbour’s strayed fowls. Someone says to him: “Such is not the way of a good man.” He replies: “With your leave, I will diminish my appropriations, and will take but one fowl per month until next year when I will make an end of the practice.” If you know the thing to be wrong, hasten to get rid of it! Why wait until next year?’ ” (Bk. iii., pt. ii., c. viii.)

  The system of levies upon the holders of cultivable land, which anciently obtained, is thus described by Mencius: “A square le covers nine squares of land which nine squares contain nine hundred mow. The central square is the public field; and eight families, each having its private hundred mow, cultivate the public field in common; and not until this public work is done, dare they attend to tilling their own fields.” (Bk. iii., pt. i., c. iii., v. 19.)

  The change from this to a tithing or income tax system in the more populous districts is thus indicated: “I would ask you, in the remoter districts, observing the nine Squares division, to reserve one division to be cultivated on the system of mutual aid, and in the more central parts of the kingdom, to require the people to pay a tenth part of their produce.” (Bk. iii., pt. i., c. iii., v. 15.)

  As has already been quoted in the section on “Nourishment of the People,” Mencius regarded any system of taxation, based upon values, as of land or goods or both, regardless of the product, as destructive and in bad seasons even ruinous, resulting accordingly in the demoralization and pauperization of the people, while the tithe or income tax falls or rises with the ability to respond. This is also enforced by the following from the Book of Mencius: “Lung said, ‘For regulating farms, there is no better system than that of mutual aid and none which is worse than that of taxing. By taxing, the amount to be paid regularly is fixed by taking the average of several years. In good years, when there is grain in abundance, much might be taken without its being oppressive, and the actual detriment would be small; but in bad years, the produce not being sufficient to repay manuring the fields, the tax system requires taking the full amount.’ ” (Bk. iii., pt. i., c. iii., v. 7.)

  Military Equipment. “To lead an uninstructed people to war, is to throw them away.” (Analects, bk. xiii., c. xxx.)

  Confucius scarcely referred to the subject of war, except in the matter of indicating methods by which both misunderstandings with the peoples of neighbouring states and revolts on the part of classes of the citizens may be avoided. This indicates the relatively peaceful conditions already obtaining there.

  Yet the saying quoted above from the “Analects” seems full of insight and of prescience, when applied to the fate of the soldiers and marines of China and of Russia when at different times of late pitted against the trained and disciplined naval and military forces of Japan. May it not also be of some importance to another great people of a hundred million souls which leaves its free citizens without military training? Are the Russians and the Chinese the only fatuous people in the world?

  It is also enforced by the sage as follows: “Let a good man teach the people seven years, and they may then be led to war.” (Analects, bk. xiii., c. xxix.)

  These texts must have been often in the minds of the people, since the catastrophes of the two Japanese wars; and the long belated seven years’ preparation may now be fairly under way.

  Confucius gave some notion of what he deemed the requisites of a great military leader in the following: “Tsze-loo said, ‘If you had the conduct of the armies of a great state, whom would you have to act with you?’ The Master said, ‘I would not have him to act with me, who will unarmed attack a tiger or cross a river without a boat, dying without regret. My associate must be a man who proceeds to action full of solicitude, who is fond of adjusting his plans and then carries them into execution!’ ” (Analects, bk. vii., c. x., v. 2, 3.)

  Yet this people, whose great teacher gave so little attention to military subjects, notwithstanding that he ranked it as one of the three essentials of good government, is the only one among the great nations which has maintained real continuity for itself through thousands of years; and the great wall which it constructed to ward off northern invasions is quite the most remarkable line of defences ever constructed.

  Mencius also advises this course, duly emphasizing the necessity for the spirit of patriotic devotion among the people, in these words: “If you will have me counsel you, there is one thing I can suggest. Dig deeper your moats; build higher your walls; guard them, you and your people. Be prepared to die if need be, and have the people so attached that they will not desert you!” (Bk. ii., pt. ii., c. xiii., v. 2.)

  The great impropriety of maintaining military forces in order to overawe the people, as well as the utter want of need for such under a benevolent government, is plainly indicated by all of the teachings of the sage concerning government, yet quoted or to be quoted. Only the following need be cited: “Duke Hwan assembled all the princes together nine times and did not use weapons of war and chariots. This was through the influence of Kwan Chung. Whose beneficence was like his?” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xvii., v. 2.)

  The manner in which benevolent government knits all citizens into a united band of patriots, against whom no force, from within or without, can prevail, is thus described by Mencius: “With a territory which is only a hundred le square, it is possible to attain the Imperial dignity. If Your Majesty will give a benevolent government to your people, be sparing in punishments and fines and make the taxes and levies light, so causing fields to be ploughed deep and weeding to be carefully attended to and the strong-bodied, during their days of leisure, to cultivate filial piety, fraternal respectfulness, sincerity, truthfulness, serving thereby, at home, their fathers and elder brothers and, abroad, their elders and superiors—you will then have a people who can be employed with sticks they have prepared, to oppose the strong mail and sharp weapons of the troops of Ts‘in and Ts‘oo.’ ” (Bk. i., pt. i., c. v., v. 2, 3.)

  And with yet more enthusiastic eloquence he celebrates the prowess of a united people under a leader whom all trust to the uttermost and their ability to overcome every foe and resist every assault, in this passage, condemning reliance upon mere strength of fortifications and armament: “With walls of great height, with moats of great depth, with arms, both of offence and defence, trenchant and mighty, with great stores of rice and other food, the city is surrendered and abandoned. This is because material advantages do not compensate for the absence of the spiritual union of men. Therefore is it said, ‘A people is protected, not by bulwarks and ditches; a kingdom is safeguarded, not by rivers and mountains; an empire is conquered, not by the superiority of arms!’ ” (Bk. ii., pt. ii., c. i., v. 3, 4.)

  Kingly Qualities. “What is most potent is to be a man. Its influence will be felt throughout the state.” (Shi King, Sacrificial Odes of Káu, decade i., ode 4.)

  Confucius makes these words of the “Shi King” more emphatic, when he says: “Let there be men and the government will flourish; but, without men, government decays and dies.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xx., v. 2.)

  And it is also remarked in “The Great Learning”: “When the ruler excels as a father, a son, and a brother, then the people imitate him.” (C. ix., v. 8.)

  The same is put in illustrative form in this legend of China’s dawn of history: “Shun, being in possession of the empire, selected from among all the people and employed Kaou-yaou, on which all who were devoid of virtue disappeared.” (Analects, bk. xii., c. xxii., v. 6.)

  To Shun himself Confucius attributed that perfect poise which commanded because it was commanding and showered benefits because the king with all his heart desired the welfare of his people. Of him it is said in the “Analects”: “May not Shun be instanced as having governed efficiently without exertion? What did he do? He did nothing but gravely and reverently occupy the imperial seat.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. iv.)

  In another passage a like majesty is ascribed also to Yu: “How majestic was the manner in which Shun and Yu held possession of the empire as if it were nothing to them!” (Analects, bk. viii., c. xviii.)

  In the “Yi King” a much more detailed but somewhat extravagant description of the power of character in enforcing benevolent and beneficent rules of government is given, thus: “The Master said, ‘The superior man occupies his apartment and sends forth his words. If they be good, they will be responded to at a distance of more than a thousand li; how much more will they be so in the nearer circle! He occupies his apartment and sends forth his words. If they be evil they will awaken opposition at a distance of more than a thousand li; how much more will they do so in the nearer circle!’ ” (Appendix iii., sect. i., c. viii., v. 42.)

  This subject comes abruptly out of the clouds to the level of practical, everyday life, however, when the following plain-spoken words from the lips of the sage are consulted in the “Analects”:

  “If a minister make his own conduct correct, what difficulty will he have about assisting in government? If he cannot rectify himself, what has he to do with rectifying others?” (Bk. xiii., c. xiii.)

  Mencius paid his tribute to the power of virtue, as follows: “In the empire there are three things universally acknowledged to be honourable. Nobility is one of them, age is one of them, virtue is one of them. In courts nobility holds first place, in villages age, and for usefulness to one’s generation and controlling the people, neither is equal to virtue.” (Bk. ii., pt. ii., c. ii., v. 6.)

  It is difficult, however, even for Confucius to avoid enthusiasm in the statement of this proposition to which he returns again and again, as thus: “He who exercises government by means of his virtue, may be compared to the north polar star which keeps its place and all the stars turn toward it.” (Analects, bk. ii., c. i.)

  In two other sayings, are presented different phases of this view: “When rulers love to observe the rules of propriety, the people respond readily to the calls upon them for service.” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xliv.) “The superior man does not use rewards, yet the people are stimulated to virtue. He does not show wrath, yet the people are more awed than by hatchets and battle-axes.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xxxiii., v. 4.)

  Mencius also says: “When one subdues men by force, they do not submit to him in heart but because not strong enough to resist. When one subdues men by virtue, they are pleased to the heart’s core and sincerely submit.” (Bk. ii., pt. i., c. iii., v. 2.)

  In the “Li Ki” the consequences upon the ruler and his government, of qualities opposite to these, are indicated by this significant question: “If his heart be not observant of righteousness, self-consecration, good faith, sincerity, and guilelessness, though a ruler may try to knit the people firmly to him, will not all bonds between them be dissolved?” (Bk. ii., sect. ii., pt. iii., 11.)

  This picture is given by Confucius in the “Analects,” of a worthy and successful ruler: “By his generosity, he won all. By his sincerity, he made the people repose trust in him. By his earnest activity, his achievements were great. By his justice, all were delighted.” (Bk. xx., c. i., v. 9.)

  I Yin, as quoted in the “Shu King,” thus eloquently descants upon the earnest aspirations of another ruler: “The former king, before it was light, sought to have large and clear views and then sat waiting for the dawn to put them into practice.” (Pt. iv., bk. v., 2.)

  The Duke of Chin, according to the same book, thus defined the qualities that characterize the great minister: “Let me have but one resolute minister, plain and sincere, without other ability but having a straightforward mind, and possessed of generosity, regarding the talents of others as if he possessed them himself, and when he finds accomplished and sage men, loving them in his heart more than his mouth expresses, really showing himself able to bear them; such a minister would be able to preserve my descendants and people and would indeed be a giver of benefits.” (Pt. v., bk. xxx.)

  Confucius himself, replying to the question of a disciple, gives an estimate of the most desirable qualifications for an officer of lower rank. It runs:

  “Tsze-kung asked, ‘What qualities must a man possess to entitle him to be called an officer?’ The Master said, ‘He who in his own conduct maintains a sense of shame and when sent to any quarter, will not disgrace his prince’s commission, deserves to be called an officer.’

  “Tsze-kung went on, ‘I venture to ask who may be placed in the next lower rank,’ and was told, ‘He whom the circle of his relatives pronounces filial, whom his fellow-villagers and neighbours pronounce fraternal.’

  “He asked once more, ‘I venture to ask about the class next in order.’ The Master said, ‘They who are determined to be sincere in what they say and to carry out what they do. They are obstinate little men. Yet perhaps they make the next class.’ ” (Analects, bk. xiii., c. xx., v. 1, 2, 3.)

  Some of the qualities which are most valuable in a public officer Confucius named in commending a contemporary thus: “The Master said of Tszech‘an that he had four of the characteristics of a superior man: ‘In his own conduct, he was humble; in serving his superiors, he was respectful; in providing for the people’s support, he was kind; in ordering the people, he was just.’ ” (Analects, bk. v., c. xv.)

  The following conversation drew from Confucius a distinct statement of what quality in a ruler is most essential, i. e., humility and a deep sense of responsibility, and what quality is most destructive, i. e., a dictatorial, wrong-headed obstinacy, which brooks no advice, remonstrance, or opposition:

  “The Duke Ting asked whether there was a single sentence which could make a country prosperous. Confucius replied:

  “ ‘Such an effect cannot be expected from one sentence. There is a saying, however, which people have: To be a prince is difficult, to be a minister not easy. If a ruler know this, how difficult it is to be a prince, may there not be expected from this one sentence, that the country be made prosperous?’

  “The duke then asked, ‘Is there a single sentence which can ruin a country?’ Confucius replied:

  “ ‘Such an effect cannot be expected from one sentence. There is a saying, however, which people have: I have no pleasure in being prince, except that no one offers opposition to what I say. If a ruler’s words be good, is it not also good that no one oppose them? But if not good and no one opposes them, may there not be expected from this one sentence the ruin of the country?’ ” (Analects, bk. xiii., c. xv.)

  That to die surrounded by the splendours of absolute sway does not assure, in the face of every evidence of misrule, that one has been successful, Confucius illustrates by this reference to Chinese history: “The Duke King of Ts‘e had a thousand chariots, each drawn by four horses; but on the day of his death the people did not honour him for a single virtue. P‘ih-e and Shu-ts‘e died of hunger at the foot of the Show-yang mountain, and yet the people honour them to this day.” (Analects, bk. xvi., c. xii., v. 1.)

  And this glowing and inviting prospect he discloses for the ruler of men who bases his claim upon propriety, righteousness, and good faith: “If a superior love propriety, the people will not dare not to be reverent. If he love righteousness, the people will not dare not to conform to his desires. If he love good faith, the people will not dare not to be sincere. When these things obtain, the people from all quarters will come to him, bearing their children on their backs.” (Analects, bk. xiii., c. iv., v. 3.)

  Power of Official Example. “The ruler must first himself be possessed of the qualities which he requires of the people; and must be free from the qualities which he requires the people to abjure.” (Great Learning, c. ix., v. 4.)

  Thus Confucius emphasizes the most modern principle of “noblesse oblige”; nor does he leave it doubtful that what he means is that “example speaks louder than words,” especially when he whose conduct is in question stands forth in all men’s sight their chief and leader, for he is quoted by Mencius as saying: “What the superior man loves, his inferiors will be found to love exceedingly. The relation between superiors and inferiors is like that between the wind and the grass. The grass must bend when the wind blows upon it.” (Mencius, bk. iii., pt. i., c. ii., v. 4.)

  In the “Li Ki” appears the following concerning the influence of the example set by the ruler: “The Master said, ‘Inferiors, in serving those over them, do not follow what they command, but what they do. When a ruler loves a given thing, his subjects will do so, more than he. Therefore he who is in authority should be careful about what he likes and what he dislikes; for these will be examples in the eyes of the people.’ ” (Li Ki, bk. xxx., 4.)

  In the following, also from the “Li Ki,” he connects it with the most powerful sanction for ethical conduct known to the Chinese, i. e., filial piety: “When a man who is over others transgresses in his words, the people will fashion their speech accordingly; when he transgresses in his conduct, the people will imitate him as their model. If in his words he does not go beyond what should be said, nor in his acts beyond what should be done, then the people, without direction so to do, will revere and honour him. When this is so, he has respected himself; and having respected himself, he will have honoured his parents to the utmost.” (Bk. xxiv., 13.)

  “The Great Learning” thus derives both the safety and the peril of the state, in this regard, from the observation of filial and fraternal obligations within the family: “From the love within one family, the entire state may be made loving; from its courtesies, the entire state be made courteous; while from the ambition and perverseness of one man, the entire state may be led into rebellion; such is the power of example.” (C. ix., v. 3.)

  In the same book it is put thus: “In the Book of Poetry it is said: ‘In his deportment there is nothing wrong; he rectifies all the people of the state.’ When the ruler, as a father, a son, and a brother, is exemplary, the people will imitate him.” (C. ix., v. 8.)

  In the “Analects,” Confucius has repeatedly announced this truth, as in these words: “When a prince’s personal conduct is correct, his government is effective without the issuing of orders. When his personal conduct is not correct, he may issue orders but they will not be obeyed.” (Bk. xiii., c. vi.)

  One reason that so much greater potency inheres in what he who presides over the destiny of a people does, than in what he says or even commands, Confucius assigns in this saying: “The people may be made to follow a course of action, but they may not be made to understand it.” (Analects, bk. viii., c. ix.)

  And Confucius accentuates the lesson in this: “Though a man have abilities as admirable as those of the duke of Chow, yet if he be proud and niggardly, those other things are really not worth being looked at.” (Analects, bk. viii., c. xi.)

  Yet not too much, nor that too soon, must be expected even of the most brilliant and efficacious righteousness of the man in command, when for a long time disorder and demoralization have prevailed. In the “Analects” Confucius says of this: “If a truly royal ruler were to arrive, it would require a generation and then virtue would prevail.” (Bk. xiii., c. xii.)

  Yet he urged that the ruler rely upon the purity of his desire, his example, and persuasion of the people to love and practise what is good, rather than upon proscription and penalties; and he says: “If the people be led by laws and uniformity sought to be given them by punishments, they will try to avoid the punishment but have no sense of guilt. If they be led by virtue and uniformity sought to be given them by the rules of propriety, they will have the sense of guilt and moreover will become good.” (Analects, bk. ii., c. iii.)

  Again he inquires, most significantly: “In carrying on your government, why should you use killing at all? Let your desires be for what is good, and the people will be good.” (Analects, bk. xii., c. xix.)

  And in a like spirit he rebukes a prince who complained to him, thus: “Ke K‘ang Tze, distressed about the prevalence of thieves, inquired of Confucius how to suppress them. Confucius replied: ‘If you yourself were not covetous, they would not steal, though you should offer a reward for stealing.’ ” (Analects, bk. xii., c. xviii.)

  His disciple, Tsang Tze, thus imposes upon every man who occupies high station the obligation to guard his demeanour, deportment, speech, and conduct to the end that none of those who look up to him shall be corrupted thereby: “There are three principles of conduct which the man of high rank should consider specially important: that in his deportment and manner he keep from violence and heedlessness; that in regulating his countenance he keep near to sincerity; and that in word and tone he keep far from lowness and impropriety.” (Analects, bk. viii., c. iv., v. 3.)

  Upon the chief ruler of China, the leader and exemplar for all the people, this responsibility is so made to rest that, were it fully realized in actual government, every emperor would present the touching and edifying picture of an Abraham Lincoln, bending beneath the heavy burdens of the people whom he so loved and so served with conscientious reverence. For these words the sage puts into the prayer of him whom imperial sway makes the servant of all his people: “If, in my own person, I commit offences, they are not to be attributed to you, ye people of the myriad regions. If ye in the myriad regions commit offences, the guilt must rest upon my head.” (Analects, bk. xx., c. i., v. 3.)

  Universal Education. “When the man of high station is well instructed, he loves men; when the man of low station is well instructed, he is easily ruled.” (Analects, bk. xvii., c. iv., v. 3.)

  Thus Confucius sets forth the necessity for general education of all classes of the people and the benefits in respect of government which flow from it. In another place, he says, even more significantly, of the levelling power of education: “There being instruction, there will be no distinction of classes.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xxxviii.)

  This levelling extended also to those of the highest rank and beyond school-days into official life, determining the fitness and title to public office. Thus the “Hsun Tse” (bk. ix.) says of this: “Even among the sons of the emperor, the princes, and the great officials, if they were not qualified to rites and justice, they should be put down to the class of common people; even among the sons of the common people, if they have good education and character and are qualified to rites and justice, they should be elevated to the class of ministers and nobles.”

  According to the “Li Ching,” the education of the child commences with its conception, and accordingly explicit instructions are given to secure proper prenatal influences and ward off evil influences. The instructions are as to physical, mental, and moral conduct of the mother during gestation, with the direct object of producing a strong, intelligent, and moral human being.

  The value and potency of education are set forth in the same work (bk. xlviii.) as follows: “When a child is trained completely, his education is just as strong as his nature; and when he practises anything constantly, he will do it naturally as a permanent habit.”

  Mencius made the following sage and practical remark concerning another aspect of the relation of education to government: “Good government is feared by the people, while good instruction is loved by them. Good government gets the people’s wealth, while good instruction wins their hearts.” (Bk. vii., pt. i., c. xiv., v. 3.)

  In this, of course the expression “good government” means much the same as in modern politics, i. e., “business men’s government,” bent upon securing order and economy only, but often utterly disregarding the desires and even the essential well-being of the lowly and oppressed. Real “good government” necessarily includes instruction; and that Mencius fully understood this, the following penetrating remark from his book fully substantiates: “Men possess a moral nature; but if they are well fed, warmly clad, and comfortably lodged, without at the same time being instructed, they become like unto beasts.” (Bk. iii., pt. i., c. iv., v. 8.)

  This principle, that education is the great and constant need of all minds and most especially of the mind of him who would lead others, Mencius also applied remorselessly to the princes of his day, as a paramount duty resting upon them, in this passage: “Now, throughout the empire, the jurisdictions of the princes are of equal extent and none excels his fellows in achievement. Not one is able to go beyond the others. This is from no other reason than that they love to make ministers of those whom they teach rather than to make ministers of those by whom they might themselves be taught.” (Bk. ii., pt. ii., c. ii., v. 9.)

  And to the burden of this responsibility, i. e., at all times to be earnestly and humbly seeking instruction themselves, he thus added the duty of providing for the education of the people, coupled with the promise of such fulfilment of ambitions as naturally flows from excellence in the performance of obligations already assumed: “Let careful attention be paid to education in schools, inculcating in it especially the filial and fraternal duties, and grey-haired men will not be seen upon the roads, bearing burdens on their backs or on their heads. It never has been that the ruler of a state where such results were seen—persons of seventy wearing silks and eating flesh and the black-haired people suffering neither from hunger nor cold—did not attain to the Imperial dignity.” (Mencius, bk. i., pt. i., c. iii., v. 4.)

  That these were not intended as mere platitudes is shown, not merely by the result that in China for thousands of years education has been the test, on a strictly competitive basis, without regard to wealth, social position, and influence of forbears, by which political preferment has been determined; but also by the strictly practical statements concerning popular instruction, such as this from the “Li Ki”: “If he wish to transform the people and to perfect their manners and customs, must he not start with the lessons of the school?” (Bk. xvi., 1.)

  The established public means of education are thus described in the same book: “According to the system of ancient teaching, for the families of a hamlet (25) there was the village school; for a neighbourhood (500 families) there was the academy; for a larger district (2500 families), the college; and in the capitals, a university.” (Bk. xvi., 4.)

  That there may be no question that the competitive examination was already the essential for political appointment or advancement, this is also quoted from the “Li Ki”: “Every year some entered the college and every second year there was a competitive examination.” (Bk. xvi., 5.)

  The accepted and approved purpose of instruction, as laid down in the “Li Ki,” is also most progressive and may to advantage, perhaps, be contrasted with the insistence, now happily subsiding, in Occidental nations that “the three R’s,” i. e., reading, writing, and arithmetic, if indeed so much as that, are quite sufficient and all that, or more than, the government should concern itself to secure for the people. This passage illustrates the view in China, even before Confucius came to instruct his people for all time: “Teaching should be directed to develop that in which the pupil excels, and correct the defects to which he is prone.” (Li Ki, bk. xvi., 14.)

  Modern courses in psychology for the instruction of teachers were anticipated also in the olden times, centuries before the Christian era; and the whole matter had been clearly and discriminatingly put, as in this from the “Li Ki”: “Among pupils there are four defects with which the teacher must make himself acquainted. Some err by assuming too many branches of study; some, too few; some in over-facility; some, in want of persistence. These four defects arise from the differences of their minds. When the teacher understands the character of his pupil’s mind, he can rescue him from the fault to which he is prone.” (Bk. xvi., 14.)

  It is also said upon this interesting topic: “When a man of talents and virtue understands the stupidity of one pupil and the precocity of another in the attainment of knowledge and also comprehends the good and bad qualities of his pupils, he can vary his methods of teaching accordingly. When he can vary his methods of teaching, he is indeed a master. When so fitted to be a teacher, he is qualified for administrative office; and when so qualified for administrative office, he is even fitted to be chosen as ruler of the state. Therefore is it that from a teacher one learns how to be a ruler; and therefore that in the choice of a teacher the greatest care should be exercised. As it is said in the History: ‘The three kings and the four dynasties were what they were, by reason of their teachers.’ ” (Li Ki, bk. xvi., 16.)

  This also, from the same source, bears upon the psychology of the problem of teaching and also shows that the true meaning of “to educate” was already apprehended: “When a superior man knows the causes which make instruction successful and those which make it of no effect, he can become a teacher of others. Thus, in his teaching, he draws out and does not merely carry along; he encourages and does not discourage; he opens up the subject but does not exhaust it, leaving the student nothing to do. Drawing out and not merely dragging along produces concert of effort. Encouraging and not restraining makes it easy to go forward. Opening up the subject and not exhausting it forces the student himself to think. He who brings about this concert of action, this ready advancement, and this independent initiative of thought may be pronounced a skilful teacher.” (Bk. xvi., 13.)

  Confucius, in the “Analects,” twice gives expression to the same fundamental principle: “With one like Tsze, I can commence talking about the Odes. I told him one point and he knew its proper sequence.” (Bk. vii., c. viii.) “I do not open up the truth to one who is not eager for knowledge, nor help out any one who is not himself anxious to explore causes. When I have presented one corner of a subject to any one and he cannot learn from it the other three, I do not repeat my lesson.” (Bk. xii., c. viii.)

  In its entirety this was a course necessary for Confucius with his great work to do, but scarcely practicable for all teachers for the reason that all must be instructed, whether bright or dull, whether studious or indolent; the sage’s impatience with sluggishness and dulness, the ordinary teacher could not imitate, except by utterly destroying his usefulness. In consequence, therefore, the sage nowhere recommends such procedure to teachers, whether of the young or of the mature.

  In the “Li Ki,” the correct view of this aspect of teaching is thus set forth with considerable fulness: “The skilful student, though his teacher seems indifferent, yet attains double as much as another and in the sequel ascribes the credit to his teacher. The unskilful, though his teacher be diligent with him, makes but half the progress and in the sequel blames his teacher. The skilful inquirer is like a workman addressing himself to deal with a hard log: first he attacks the easy parts and then the knotty. After applying himself a good while, he talks with his teacher and all is plain. The unskilful does the contrary.” (Bk. xvi., 18.)

  The popular impression among Occidental peoples—so far as they have any impression—concerning the instruction of Chinese children is well illustrated by what the “Li Ki” condemns in this passage: “Under the system of instruction now in use the teachers hum over the tablets which they have before them and ask many questions. They then speak of their pupils making rapid progress but pay no attention to whether they retain what they have been taught. They are not earnest in imposing burdens upon their pupils nor do they put forth all their power to instruct them. The habits they thus cause the pupils to form are not good and the students are disappointed about attaining what they seek. Accordingly, they find their studies onerous and despise their teachers; they are embittered by the difficulties they encounter and realize but poor results of their toil. They may appear to do their work but they quickly lose what they acquire. That there are no stable results of their instruction, is it not due to these defects in their teacher?” (Bk. xvi., 10.)

  That the good teacher is to be regarded as an important member of the community and must be treated with respect and veneration, in order that he may best perform his useful function, is inculcated also in the “Li Ki” in these terms: “In providing a system of education, one trouble is to secure proper respect for the teacher; when such is assured, what he teaches will also be regarded with respect; when that is done, the people will know how to respect learning. Therefore is it that there are two of his subjects whom the ruler does not treat as such: him who is personating his ancestor at the sacrifice, he does not so treat, nor yet his own teacher.” (Bk. xvi., 17.)

  The same book names the following as the objects to be sought in education: “In all learning, for him who would be an officer, the first thing is the knowledge of business; for scholars, the first thing is the directing of the mind.” (Bk. xvi., 6.)

  And it thus urges the desirability of class-work, as affording abundant opportunity for companionship, a just estimate of one’s acquirements and true culture: “To study alone and without friends makes one feel solitary, uncultivated, and but little informed.” (Bk. xvi., 12.)

  In the same book, this brief description of the method of Confucius is to be found: “The Master taught them by means of current events; and made them understand what was virtuous.” (Bk. vi., sect. i., 17.)

  The following are a few of the passages in the “Analects,” some of which have already been quoted in other connections, that shed light upon the methods of teaching followed by Confucius and the subjects which he taught:

  “The subjects on which the Master did not talk were extraordinary things, feats of strength, disorder, and spiritual beings.” (Bk. vii., c. xx.)

  “There are four things which the Master taught: letters, ethics, devotion of soul, and truthfulness.” (Bk. vii., c. xxiv.)

  “The Master said, ‘Hwuy gives me no assistance. There is nothing that I say in which he does not delight.’ ” (Bk. xi., c. iii.)

  “The Master said, ‘To those whose talents are above mediocrity the highest subjects may be announced. To those who are below mediocrity the highest subjects may not be announced.’ ” (Bk. vi., c. xvii.)

  “There was Yen Hwuy; he loved to learn. He did not transfer his anger; he did not repeat a fault.” (Bk. vi., c. ii.)

  “I have talked with Hwuy for a whole day and he has not made any objection—quite as if he were stupid. He has retired and I have examined his conduct while out of my sight and found him able to illustrate my teaching. Hwuy? He is not stupid.” (Bk. ii., c. ix.)

  “The Master said to Tsze-Kung, ‘Which do you consider superior, yourself or Hwuy?’ Tsze-Kung replied, ‘How dare I compare myself with Hwuy? Hwuy hears one point and understands the whole subject; I hear one point and understand the next.’ The Master said, ‘You are not equal to him. I grant you, you are not equal to him.’ ” (Bk. v., c. viii.)

  “The Master’s frequent themes of discourse were the Odes, the History, and the observance of the rules of propriety. On all these he frequently discoursed.” (Bk. vii., c. xvii.)

  The importance and indeed the necessity of popular education Confucius often dwelt upon, placing it next after mere physical sustenance for the people, as in this passage:

  “When the Master went to Wei, Yen Yew acted as driver of his carriage.

  “The Master observed, ‘How numerous are the people!’

  “Yew said, ‘Since they are thus numerous, what more shall be done for them?’ ‘Make them prosperous’ was the reply.

  “ ‘And when they are prosperous, what then shall be done?’ The Master said, ‘Instruct them.’ ” (Analects, bk. xiii., c. ix.)

  Law and Order. “The Duke King, of Ts‘e, asked Confucius about government. Confucius replied, ‘It is when the prince is prince, the minister is minister, the father is father, the son is son.’ ” (Analects, bk. xii., c. xi.)

  Thus Confucius in the “Analects” enjoins the necessity for order in the state. Both the things requisite for the maintenance of good order and the conditions that lead to disorder, he thus describes in another place: “When good government prevails in the empire, ceremonies, music, and punitive military expeditions proceed from the emperor. When bad government prevails in the empire, ceremonies, music, and punitive expeditions proceed from the princes. When they proceed from the princes, as a rule the cases will be few in which they do not lose their power in ten generations. When they proceed from the great officers of the princes, as a rule the cases will be few in which they do not lose their power in five generations. When the subsidiary ministers of the great officers hold in their grasp the orders of the kingdom, as a rule the cases will be few in which they do not lose their power in three generations.” (Analects, bk. xvi., c. ii., v. 1.)

  The peril to the state within which, in the words of the English poet, “wealth accumulates and men decay” was vividly present in the sage’s mind, as this saying from the “Li Ki” abundantly witnesses: “The Master said, ‘Under heaven the cases are few in which the poor have enjoyment, the rich love the rules of propriety, and families that are powerful remain quiet and orderly.’ ” (Bk. xxvii., c. iii.)

  In the “Shu King,” the following declaration of King Khang is to be found: “Families which have for generations enjoyed places of emolument seldom observe the rules of propriety.” (Pt. v., bk. xxiv., 3.)

  And, also in the “Shu King,” the Duke of Kau is represented as saying of the evil effects sometimes witnessed, when even a moderate amount of unearned wealth passes to untutored youth: “I have observed among the lower people that, where the parents have diligently laboured in sowing and reaping, their sons often do not understand this painful toil, but abandon themselves to ease and to village slang and become quite disorderly.” (Pt. v., bk. xv., 1.)

  King Wu, however, one of the almost mythical monarchs and heroes of the earlier period of Chinese history, yet more powerfully portrays in the same book the depths to which disorder and demoralization may descend: “All who themselves commit crimes, robbing, stealing, practising villainy and treachery, and who kill men or violently assault them to take their property, being reckless and defiant of death—these are abhorred by all.” (Pt. v., bk. ix., 3.)

  The course of one who restored order in the kingdom was thus warmly commended by Confucius in the “Analects”: “He carefully attended to the weights and measures, examined the body of the laws, restored those who had been unjustly removed from office; and the good government of the empire took its course.” (Bk. xx., c. i., v. 6.)

  The duty of care in the selection of administrative officers is particularly enjoined by him as in the following: “Employ first the services of your various officers, pardon small faults, and raise to office men of virtue and talents. Chung-kung said, ‘How shall I know the men of virtue and talents, so that I may raise them to office?’ He was answered, ‘Raise to office those whom you know. As to those whom you do not know, will others neglect them?’ ” (Analects, bk. xiii., c. ii., v. 2.)

  This is the sage’s characterization of the course of a wise king in the selection and discharge of officers: “He does not cause the great ministers to repine at his not employing them. Without some great cause, he does not dismiss from their offices the members of old families. He does not seek in one man talents for every employment.” (Analects, bk. xviii., c. x.)

  Due consideration of whether one’s friends and even, indeed especially, one’s relatives may not be fit for office, is not discouraged but instead insisted upon in the same passage: “The Duke of Chow addressed his son, the Duke of Loo, saying, ‘The virtuous prince does not neglect his relatives.’ ” (Analects, bk. xviii., c. x.)

  In favour of this course, he urges the following arguments: “When those who are in high stations perform well their duties to their relatives, the people are aroused to virtue. When old friends are not neglected by them, the people are preserved from meanness.” (Analects, bk. viii., c. ii., v. 2.)

  The acceptance of office for “what there is in it” or otherwise than as a sacred trust, he thus denounces: “Heen asked what is shameful. The Master said, ‘When good government prevails in a state, to be thinking only of one’s salary; and when bad government prevails, to be thinking, in the same way, only of one’s salary. This is shameful.’ ” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. i.)

  In the “Li Ki,” Confucius is quoted as saying that it is safer and better in every way to wait until a man’s death to confer any special honour upon him, thus: “The Master said, ‘When honours and rewards are first conferred upon the dead and afterward upon the living, people will not depart from the course of the honoured dead.’ ” (Bk. xxvii., 10.)

  That both the ruler and his ministers are subject to and should be governed by the elemental principles of right and wrong, which are of universal obligation, he here affirms: “A prince should employ his ministers according to the rules of propriety; ministers should serve their prince with faithfulness.” (Analects, bk. iii., c. xix.)

  In the “Li Ki,” this caution to ministers and public officers is given: “Affairs of state should not be privately discussed.” (Bk. i., sect. iii., pt. i.)

  In the “Shu King” are found these instructions, among others, for the judges of the criminal courts: “It is not persons with crafty tongues who should try criminal cases, but persons who are really good, whose judgments will exemplify the due mean. Watch carefully for discrepancies in statements; the view you intended not to adopt, you may find reason to adopt. With pity and reverence determine the issues; painstakingly consult the penal code; give ear to all respecting the matter—to the end that your judgment may exemplify the due mean, whether in imposing a fine or another punishment, by careful investigation and the solution of every difficulty. When the trial has such an event, all will acknowledge that the judgment is just; and so likewise will the sovereign do, when the report reaches him.” (Pt. v., bk. xxvii., 5.)

  The same book lays down this discriminating fundamental for the administration of justice, recognizing that criminality consists in intent: “You pardon inadvertent faults, however great; and punish purposed crimes, however small.” (Pt. ii., bk. ii., 2.)

  Another passage of this ancient book asserts in words ascribed to Kau-Yau, speaking to Shun, a maxim of criminal justice which many suppose to be peculiar to its administration in Anglo-Saxon countries: “Rather than put an innocent person to death, you will run the risk of irregularity and error.” (Pt. ii., bk. ii., 2.)

  In the “Li Ki,” the following passage describes the emoluments of public officers, indicating the use of “standards of value” much less subject to fluctuation than the precious metals: “The officers of the lowest grade in the feudal states received salary sufficient to feed nine individuals; those of the second grade, enough to feed eighteen; and those of the highest, enough for thirty-six. A great officer could feed 72 individuals, a minister 288, and the ruler 2880. In a state of the second class, a minister could feed 216, and the ruler 2160. A minister of a small state could feed 144 individuals and the ruler 1440.” (Bk. iii., sect. v., 24.)

  There were also restrictions in those days upon the military defence and equipment of states and cities, intended to keep down the spirit of domination and to avoid revolt. The “Li Ki” thus describes these laws: “Hence it was made the rule that no state should have more than 1000 chariots, no chief city’s wall more than 100 embrasures, no family more than 100 chariots, however opulent. These regulations were intended for the protection of the people; yet some of the governors of states rebelled against them.” (Bk. xxvii., 3.)

  The foregoing are some of the more important of the things which Confucius and the ancients before him deemed prerequisite to the maintenance of good order throughout the nation. The breadth and depth of statesmanship required are even better set forth in this saying of Confucius: “The superior man governs men according to their nature, with what is proper to them.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xiii., v. 21.)

  With greater circumstantiality, yet in a very brief compass, he sets forth the prerequisites anew in this sentence: “To rule a country of a thousand chariots, there must be reverent attention to business, and sincerity; economy in expenditure, and love for men; and the employment of the people at the proper seasons.” (Analects, bk. i., c. v.)

  The course of wisdom when there is not good government, he marks out as follows: “When good government prevails in a state, language may be lofty and bold, and actions the same. When bad government prevails, the actions may be lofty and bold, but the language may be with some reserve.” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. iv.)

  The manner in which a state may crumble and decay and therefore succumb to superior force and pass away, Mencius thus describes: “A man must first despise himself and then others will despise him. A family must first destroy itself and then others will destroy it. A kingdom must first strike down itself and then others will strike it down.” (Bk. iv., pt. i., c. viii., v. 4.)

  Duty Respecting Acceptance of Office. “When right principles of government prevail in the empire, he will show himself; when they are prostrated, he will keep retired.” (Analects, bk. viii., c. xiii., v. 2.)

  In the “Analects,” Confucius thus described the duty of the superior man as regards accepting office and retiring from it. The following, to like effect, is attributed, in the “Analects,” to Tsze-chang: “The minister, Tsze-wan, thrice took office and manifested no joy in his countenance. Thrice he retired from office and manifested no displeasure. He made it a point to inform the new minister of the way in which he had conducted the government.” (Bk. v., c. xviii., v. 1.)

  Confucius again gave voice to the same sentiment in this: “When good government prevails in the state, he is to be found in office. When bad government prevails, he can roll his principles up and keep them in his breast.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. xi., v. 2.)

  Indeed, he proclaimed it the part of a wise and prudent man to quit a badly governed state forthwith: “Such an one will not enter a tottering state nor dwell in a disorganized one.” (Analects, bk. viii., c. xiii., v. 2.)

  Yet he quoted with warm approval the following reply of Hwuy, when reproved for remaining in a state which had dismissed him for acting the part of a righteous judge: “Hwuy of Lew-hea, being chief criminal judge, was thrice dismissed from office. Someone said to him, ‘Is it not time for you, sir, to quit the country?’ He replied, ‘Serving men in an upright way, where shall I go and not experience such a thrice-repeated dismissal? If I chose to serve men in a crooked way, what need would there be that I leave the country of my parents?’ ” (Analects, bk. xviii., c. ii.)

  The border-warden at E, having interviewed Confucius after the latter had been deprived of office, announced: “My friends, why are you distressed by your Master’s loss of office? The empire has long been without principles; Heaven is going to use your Master as a wooden-tongued bell.” (Analects, bk. iii., c. xxiv.)

  Confucius, however, held it to be no part of the duty of an officer who has been discharged, to air his grievances and criticize his successor, as witness these words, spoken to Yen Yuen: “The Master said to Yen Yuen, ‘When called to office, to undertake its duties; when not so called, to lie retired,—it is only I and you who have attained to this!’ ” (Analects, bk. vii., c. x., v. 1.)

  And at another time he spoke even more to the point in this fashion: “He who is not in a particular office has nothing to do with the plan for the administration of its duties.” (Analects, bk. viii., c. xiv.)

  Acceptance of retirement from office, absolute acquiescence in it, even warm welcome of it and refusal to accept even the most exalted official station were warmly commended, as in this: “The Master said, ‘T’ao-pih may be said to have reached the highest point in virtuous action. Thrice he declined the empire, and the people could not express their approbation of his conduct.’ ” (Analects, bk. viii., c. i.)

  Yet service and even ambition to be called to public service were recommended to his disciples, as in this: “When you are living in any state, take service with the most worthy among its great officers and make friends with the most virtuous among its scholars.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. ix.)

  And his disciple, Tsze-Loo, holds that, when called to office and conscious of ability to render valuable service, the superior man is obliged to respond, albeit both against his inclination and against his judgment, in that the conditions will not permit thorough reform: “Not to take office is wrong. If the relations between old and young may not be neglected, how is it that he sets aside the duties that should be observed between the sovereign and the minister? Wishing to maintain his personal purity, he allows that great relation to come to confusion. A superior man takes office and performs the righteous duties belonging to it. As to the failure of right principles to make progress, he is aware of that.” (Analects, bk. xviii., c. vii., v. 5.)

  Government Is by the Consent of the Governed. “By winning the people, the kingdom is won; by losing the people, the kingdom is lost.” (Great Learning, c. x., v. 5.)

  This statement taken from “The Great Learning” is characteristic of the view of Confucius concerning government. It was already old in his time, however; for in the “Shu King,” the following is quoted among the most ancient “Cautions of the Great Yu”: “The people are the root of a country.” (Pt. iii., bk. iii.)

  And in the same book, the great ruler, Shun, is reported as saying: “Of all who are to be feared, are not the people the chief?” (Pt. ii., bk. ii., 2.)

  Mencius gives much fuller and more detailed expression to the view in this passage: “That Kee and Chow lost the empire arose from their losing the people; to lose the people means to lose their hearts. There is a way to get the empire—get the people and it is yours. There is a way to get the people—win their hearts and they are yours. There is a way to win their hearts—simply procure for them what they like and lay not upon them what they do not like. The people turn to a benevolent government as water flows down hill and as wild beasts flee to the wilderness.” (Bk. iv., pt. i., c. ix., v. 1, 2.)

  The following concerning the truly royal ruler is quoted in “The Great Learning”: “When he loves what the people love and hates what the people hate, then is a ruler what is called the parent of his people.” (C. x., v. 3.)

  That the sage did not mean thereby to commend the acts of the demagogue, which are also vain, Mencius indicates in this brief saying: “If a governor will please everyone, he will find the days not sufficient.” (Bk. iv., pt. ii., c. ii., v. 5.)

  Yet to King Hwuy, of Leang, he thus presents the reward for protecting and serving the people: “Those rulers, as it were, drive their people into pitfalls and drown them. Your Majesty will go to punish them. In such a case, who will oppose Your Majesty?” (Bk. i., pt. i., c. v., v. 5.)

  Ch‘êng Tang, in the “Shu King,” thus attributes all wisdom to the people and invariable correctness to their deliberate choice: “The great God has conferred on the common people a moral sense, compliance with which would show their nature invariably right.” (Pt. iv., bk. iii., 2.)

  In the “Shi King” the same view is expressed in these words: “Heaven, in giving birth to the multitude of the people, to every faculty and relationship annexed its law. The people possess this normal nature, and they love normal virtue.” (Major Odes, ode 6, decade iii.)

  And in the “Shu King” I Yin expatiates upon it more at length as follows: “There is no invariable model of virtue; a supreme regard for what is good makes a model for it. There is no invariable characteristic of what is good that is to be supremely regarded; it is found where there is a conformity with the common consciousness as to what is good.” (Pt. iv., bk. vi., 3.)

  Mencius unhesitatingly applied this in the most democratic manner, as in this: “If the people of Yen will be pleased at your taking possession of it, do so. Among the ancients one acted upon this principle, King Wu. If the people of Yen will not be pleased at your taking possession of it, do not do so. Among the ancients one acted upon this principle, King Wan.” (Bk. i., pt. i., c. x., v. 3.)

  But he does not content himself merely with citing precedents in the conduct of the half-mythical fathers; instead, as in his conversation with King Seang, of Leang, he boldly affirmed the fundamental principle that the people are the sole source of power:

  “ ‘How can the empire be settled?’

  “ ‘It will be settled by being united under one sway.’

  “ ‘Who can so unite it?’

  “ ‘He who has no pleasure in killing men can so unite it.’

  “ ‘Who can give it to him?’

  “ ‘All the people of the empire will unanimously give it to him.’ ” (Mencius, bk. i., c. vi., v. 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.)

  That merit produces the confidence of the people in their ruler and thereby secures for him his throne, Mencius asserts in this conversation, which has come down to us:

  “Wan Chang asked, ‘Is it true that Yaou gave the empire to Shun?’

  “Mencius answered: ‘No. The emperor cannot give the empire to another.’

  “ ‘Yes, but Shun got the empire. Who gave it to him?’

  “ ‘Heaven gave it to him.’

  “ ‘Heaven gave it to him? Did Heaven confer this appointment upon him in express terms?’

  “ ‘No. Heaven does not speak. It simply showed its will by his personal behaviour and his management of affairs.’ ” (Bk. v., pt. i., c. v., v. 1, 2, 3, 4.)

  The divine right of kings he did not deny; instead he proclaimed it, but only with this explanation, taken from an ancient source: “This sentiment is expressed in the words of the Great Declaration: ‘Heaven sees as my people see; Heaven hears as my people hear.’ ” (Bk. v., pt. i., c. v., v. 8.)

  In the “Li Ki,” it is even related that in earlier days all was democratic, thus: “There was nowhere such a thing as being born noble. . . . Anciently, there was no rank in birth and no honorary title after death.” (Bk. ix., sect. iii., 5.)

  In the same book, the existence of a hereditary monarchy is deplored as a sign of degeneration, in these words: “Now that the Grand Course has fallen into disuse and obscurity, the kingdom is a family inheritance.” (Bk. vii., sect. i., 3.)

  The Right to Depose the Ruler. “Tsze-loo asked how a sovereign should be served. The Master said: ‘Do not impose on him, and, moreover, withstand him to his face.’ ” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xxiii.)

  In another place in the “Analects,” however, the disciple, Tsze-hea, explains the requisite foundation for such boldness of conduct, thus: “Having obtained the confidence of his prince, he may then remonstrate with him. If he have not gained his confidence, the prince will think that he is vilifying him.” (Bk. xix., c. x.)

  Mencius thus characterizes this friendly, though perilous action: “It was then that the Che-shaou and Keo-shaou were made, in the poetry of which it was said: ‘What blame is there for restraining one’s prince? He who restrains his prince is his friend.’ ” (Bk. i., pt. ii., c. iv., v. 10.)

  In the “Li Ki” this duty of the minister is yet more circumstantially described, as follows: “One in the position of a minister and inferior might remonstrate with his ruler, but not speak ill of him; might withdraw but not remain and hate; might praise but not flatter; might remonstrate but not give himself haughty airs when his advice is followed. If the ruler were idle and indifferent, he might arouse and assist him; if the government were going to wreck, he might sweep it away and institute a new one.” (Bk. xv., 21.)

  Neither Confucius nor Mencius avoided this duty of protest and of rebuke. The following from Mencius is an instance:

  “ ‘Suppose the chief criminal judge could not regulate the officers; how would you deal with him?’

  “The king said: ‘Dismiss him.’

  “ ‘If within the four borders of your kingdom there is not good government, what is to be done?’

  “The king looked to the right and left, and spoke of other matters.” (Bk. i., pt. ii., c. vi., v. 2, 3.)

  Yet in the “Analects” this is found, by way of warning: “Tsze-Yew said: ‘In serving one’s prince, frequent remonstrances lead to disgrace.’ ” (Bk. iv., c. xxvi.)

  The estimate which the people, however, place upon the contrary course is well set forth in this: “The Master said: ‘The full observance of the rules of propriety in serving one’s prince [i.e., by himself, Confucius] is accounted by the people to be flattery.’ ” (Analects, bk. iii., c. xviii.)

  Confucius offers this counsel to the great minister who finds his mild persuasion and counsel rejected: “What is called a great minister is one who serves his prince according to what is right, and when he finds he cannot do so, retires.” (Analects, bk. xi., c. xxiii., v. 3.)

  Mencius advises a more Spartan course on the part of a monarch’s relatives if he proves impracticable, thus:

  “The king said: ‘I beg to ask about the chief ministers who are noble and related to the prince.’

  “Mencius answered: ‘If the prince have great faults, they ought to remonstrate with him; and, if he do not listen to them after they have done so again and again, they ought to depose him.’ ” (Bk. v., pt. ii., c. ix., v. 1.)

  Mencius thus justified even regicide, when the circumstances call for it:

  “King Seuen of Ts‘e asked: ‘Is it true that T‘ang banished Kee and that King Wu slew Chow?’

  “Mencius replied: ‘History tells us so.’

  “The king asked: ‘May a minister put his sovereign to death?’

  “Mencius said: ‘He who outrages benevolence is called a robber; he who outrages righteousness, is called a ruffian. The robber and ruffian we call a mere fellow. I have heard of the execution of the fellow, Chow, but I have not so heard of one’s sovereign being put to death.’ ” (Bk. i., pt. ii., c. viii.)

  CHAPTER VI

  CULTIVATION OF THE FINE ARTS

  Confucius held that the encouragement of the fine arts was no less a duty of the state than the protection of the people from foreign foes and the suppression of internal disorder.

  The Fine Arts in General. “When good government prevails in the empire, ceremonies, music, and punitive military expeditions proceed from the emperor.” (Analects, bk. xvi., c. ii., v. 1.)

  This saying of Confucius, recorded in the “Analects” and suggesting that wise patronage and encouragement of art by the government which has distinguished the most enlightened governments of ancient and of modern times, was reenforced without ceasing by Mencius when he rebuked princes who indulged themselves, but failed to share their pleasures with the meanest citizen. Thus he said: “If the people are not able to enjoy themselves, they condemn them that are over them. Thus to condemn their superiors when they cannot enjoy themselves is wrong; but when they that are over the people do not make pleasure a thing common to all as to themselves, they also do wrong.” (Bk. i., pt. ii., c. iv., v. 1, 2.)

  And again, speaking of beauty in woman: “If Your Majesty loves beauty, let the people be able to gratify the same feeling!” (Bk. i., pt. ii., c. v., v. 5.)

  Confucius repeatedly emphasized the importance of the cultivation of the arts, as when he said of himself: “When I had no official employment, I acquired many arts.” (Analects, bk. ix., c. vi., v. 4.) Among these were, of course, letters in which he excelled all others, ceremonies in which he had no peer, and music in which he was also trained, both as a critic and as a performer.

  To others he gave this counsel: “Let relaxation and enjoyment be found in the polite arts!” (Analects, bk. vii., c. vi., v. 4.) “It is by the Odes that the mind is aroused. It is by the rules of propriety that the character is established.” (Analects, bk. viii., c. viii., v. 1, 2.)

  In the “Li Ki” is this admonition: “A scholar should constantly pursue what is virtuous and find recreation in the arts.” (Bk. xv., v. 22.)

  His disciples related of him: “The Master’s frequent themes of discourse were: the Odes, History, and the maintenance of the rules of propriety.” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xvii.) “There were four things which the Master taught: letters, ethics, devotion of soul, and truthfulness.” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xxiv.)

  The following disjointed passages, apropos of nothing else in common, indicate the appreciation by the sage of æsthetic values of the most varied character: “I have not seen one who loves virtue as he loves beauty.” (Analects, bk. ix., c. xvii., and bk. xv., c. xii.) “The Master, standing by a stream, remarked: ‘It flows on like this, never ceasing, day and night!’ ” (Analects, bk. ix., c. xvi.) “Is it not delightful to have friends coming from distant quarters?” (Analects, bk. i., c. i., v. 2.) “The wise find pleasure in water, the virtuous find pleasure in hills.” (Analects, bk. vi., c. xxi.) “I hate the manner in which purple takes away the lustre of vermilion. I hate the way in which the songs of Ch‘ing confound the music of the Gna.” (Analects, bk. xvii., c. xviii.)

  The foregoing reference to colour implies appreciation of painting which, however, is seldom, if ever, referred to and seems to have been in an undeveloped state, compared, for instance, with poetry or music. The following from the “Analects” appears to refer to it, however: “Tsze-hea asked, saying, ‘What is the meaning of the passage: “The pretty dimples of her artful smile! The well-defined black and white of her eye! The plain ground for the colours!”?’ The Master answered: ‘The business of laying on the colours follows the preparation of the plain ground.’ ” (Bk. iii., c. viii., v. 1, 2.)

  The value of beauty for beauty’s sake, even though it be but the beauty of ornament or of accomplishments, was enforced by Tsze-kung, one of his disciples, in this colloquy: “Kih Tsze-shing asked: ‘In a superior man it is only the substantial qualities that are wanted; why should we seek for ornamental accomplishments?’ Tsze-kung replied: ‘Alas! your words, sir, show you to be a superior man; but four horses cannot overtake the tongue. Ornament is as substance; substance is as ornament. The hide of a tiger or leopard stripped of its hair is like the hide of a dog or goat stripped of its hair.’ ” (Analects, bk. xii., c. vii.)

  That it will be beneficial for a state to encourage and foster the arts, because of their civilizing effect upon the people, these words from the “Li Ki” may be quoted to illustrate: “Confucius said: ‘When you enter a state you can know what subjects have been taught. If they show themselves men who are mild and gentle, sincere and good, they have been taught from the Book of Poetry. . . . If they be big-hearted and generous, bland and honest, they have been taught from the Book of Music.’ ” (Bk. xxiii., 1.)

  Poetry and Letters. “In the Book of Poetry are three hundred pieces, but the design of them all may be embraced in one sentence: ‘Have no depraved thoughts!’ ” (Analects, bk. ii., c. ii.)

  The importance of poetry and of good literature in general was frequently emphasized as in this passage from the “Analects” by Confucius who on one occasion addressed his disciples, saying: “My children, why do you not study the Book of Poetry? The Odes serve to stimulate the mind. They may be used for purposes of self-contemplation. They teach the art of companionship. They show how to moderate feelings of resentment. From them you learn the more immediate duty of serving one’s father and the remoter duty of serving one’s prince.” (Bk. xvii., c. ix.)

  Mencius seems to have been the earliest to make use of this metaphor in describing the delights and benefits of reading: “When a scholar feels that his friendship with all the virtuous scholars of the empire is not sufficient, he proceeds to ascend to consider the men of antiquity. He repeats their poems and reads their books and, as he does not know what they were as men, to ascertain this, he considers the conditions of their time. This is to ascend and make them his friends.” (Bk. v., pt. ii., c. viii., v. 2.)

  The manner in which Confucius enjoined the study of poetry upon his eldest son is told in this conversation with Ch‘in K‘ang: “Ch‘in K‘ang asked Pih-yu, saying, ‘Have you had any lessons from your father different from what we have all heard?’ Pih-yu replied: ‘No. He was standing alone once, when I passed below the hall with hasty steps, and said to me: ‘Have you learned the Odes?” On my replying, “Not yet,” he added: “If you do not learn the Odes, you will not be fit to converse with.” I retired and studied the Odes.’ ” (Analects, bk. xvi., c. xiii., v. 1, 2.)

  That learning should not be merely by rote, that the sentiments and thoughts of the poet must be made a part of a man’s self, and that all training should be with a view to use as well as ornament, Confucius set forth in these words: “Though a man may be able to recite the three hundred Odes, yet if, when intrusted with a governmental charge, he knows not how to act or if, when sent to any quarter on a mission, he cannot give his replies unassisted, then notwithstanding the extent of his learning, of what practical use is it?” (Analects, bk. xiii., c. v.)

  The finely discriminating literary taste of Confucius was the marvel of his time and his canons are yet generally accepted. He is even represented as saying of himself, in all modesty: “In letters I am perhaps equal to other men.” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xxxii.) Still his views were of the simplest, the most naïve. Thus, for instance, he says, tersely: “Of language, it is sufficient that it convey the meaning.” (Analects, bk., xv., c. xl.)

  Yet, well pondered, this saying is both true and discerning; for comprehensive and accurate conveyance of the precise meaning in its every shade and distinction is the office of the most consummate literary art.

  When Confucius was in Wei and was asked, by Tsze-loo, his pupil, what he would consider the first thing to do in administering the government of Wei, he replied: “What is first necessary is to correct names,” i. e., the names of things, and said in explanation: “If names be not correct, language is not in accordance with the truth of things.” (Analects, bk. viii., c. iii.)

  The mischiefs which arise from miscomprehension, due to the inexact use of language, he painted in strong colours, and then said: “Therefore the superior man considers it necessary that the names he uses may be rightly spoken, so that what he says may be fulfilled to the letter. What the superior man requires is just that in his language there may be nothing inaccurate.” (Analects, bk. xiii., c. iii., v. 7.)

  That a man’s diction should also be guarded against inelegance and coarseness, the disciple Tsang declares in this: “There are three principles of conduct which the man of high rank should consider especially important: that in his deportment and manner he keep from violence and heedlessness; that in regulating his countenance he keep near to sincerity; that in his words and tones he keep far from lowness and impropriety.” (Analects, bk. viii., c. iv., v. 3.)

  The emphasis upon “far” is worthy of special note.

  Certainly Confucius was so completely removed from ignoring the beauties and even the subtleties of style, that he was the most eminent of all the Chinese ancients for simplicity, purity, elegance, and exactitude of language, both spoken and written. He had, also, the conception that it is only he who can discriminate finely between expressions that can divine the thought from the spoken or written word or even from the act, fully, accurately, and clearly; and therefore he says: “Without knowing words, it is impossible to know men.” (Analects, bk. xx., c. iii., v. 3.)

  In the “Li Ki” is thus described the accepted manner of elegant speech: “The style prized in conversation is that it should be grave and distinct.” (Bk. xv., 23.)

  The usefulness of letters and of association with men of literary taste, in forming character and confirming it, the disciple Tsang set forth as follows: “The superior man on literary grounds meets with his friends and by their friendship helps his virtue.” (Analects, bk. xii., c. xxiii.)

  And the inadequacy of both the written and the spoken word to express the highest, noblest, and sublimest thought, is set forth in this saying of Confucius, taken from the “Yi King” (appendix iii., sect. i., c. xii., 76): “The written characters are not the full exponent of speech and speech is not the full expression of ideas.”

  Music. “Music produces pleasure which human nature cannot be without.” (Li Ki, bk. xvii., sect. iii.) “Virtue is the strong stem of human nature and music is the blossoming of virtue.” (Li Ki, bk. xvii., sect. ii., 21.)

  These eloquent tributes to both the charm and the usefulness of music are from the “Li Ki,” in which much attention is given to this fascinating art, which seems to have been developed in ancient China far beyond any other of the fine arts.

  This is the more remarkable since in these days Chinese music is rightly regarded of a poor sort. The disappearance of the old, worthy, classical music is ascribed, singularly enough, to the Chinese scholastics. The work of Confucius, “The Book of Music,” was wholly lost during the Han dynasty together with the old operas, choruses, songs, and instrumental pieces. Later, the antiquarian scholars found it impossible to discover and restore these; and, influenced by the word but not by the spirit of Confucius, they ignored the music of the common people which, accordingly, became and continues degraded. This is the tradition offered to explain the absence of noble melodies and harmonies in a country where, by the testimony of one of the world’s greatest, it was in full development more than two thousand years ago.

  In the “Analects,” also, Confucius has said: “If a man be without the virtues proper to humanity, what has he to do with music?” (Analects, bk. iii., c. iii.)

  Its development was already ancient in his day; and, according to the “Li Ki,” the tradition ran: “It was by music that the ancient kings gave appropriate expression to their joy.” (Bk. xvii., sect. iii., 30.) It was also said in this book of the olden days: “He [the emperor] had music at his meals.” But the most significant of the traditions there found was this: “In music the sages found pleasure and that it could be used to make the hearts of the people good. Because of the deep influence which it exerts on a man and the change which it produces in manners and customs, the ancient kings appointed it as one of the subjects of instruction.” (Bk. xvii., sect. ii., 7.)

  Of singing it was there said: “All the modulations of the voice arise from the mind, and the various affections of the mind are produced by things external to it. . . . Music is the production of the modulations of the voice and its source is in the affections of the mind as it is influenced by external things.” (Bk. xvii., sect. i., 1, 2.)

  That music is not merely an expression of what may be in the mind, be it good or bad, but also a powerful influence upon it, for weal or ill, is affirmed by Tsze-hsia in the “Li Ki” in these words: “The airs of Kang go to wild excess and debauch the mind; those of Sung speak of slothful indulgence and of women, and submerge the mind; those of Wei are strenuous and fast and perplex the mind; and those of Khi are violent and depraved and make the mind arrogant. The airs of these four states all stimulate libidinous desire and are injurious to virtue.” (Bk. xvii., sect. iii., 11.) That such may be is accounted for by ascribing to music the property of universal speech open to all the intelligences of the universe, as follows: “Whenever notes that are evil and depraved affect men, a corresponding evil spirit responds to them; and when this evil spirit accomplishes its manifestations, licentious music is the result. Whenever notes that are correct affect men, a corresponding good spirit responds to them; and when this good spirit accomplishes its manifestations, sublime music is the result.” (Li Ki, bk. xvii., sect. ii., 14.)

  The labours of Confucius in editing, pruning, and perfecting the poetry and music extant in his day were among his most celebrated feats. Of it he himself says: “I returned from Wei to Loo, and then the music was reformed and the pieces in the Imperial Songs and Songs of Praise all found their proper places.” (Analects, bk. ix., c. xiv.)

  In the “Li Ki” it is also said: “In an age of disorder, ceremonies and music are forgotten and neglected, and music becomes licentious.” (Bk. xvii., sect. ii., 12.)

  But this need for reform did not apply to all music. “The Shaou” was famous in his day as a noble piece of music, and “The Woo” scarcely second to it. Between these he is said to have distinguished, discriminatingly, thus: “The Master said of ‘The Shaou’ that it was perfectly beautiful and also perfectly good. He said of ‘The Woo’ that it was perfectly beautiful but not perfectly good.” (Analects, bk. iii., c. xxv.)

  Of his appreciation of “The Shaou” this is related: “When the Master was in Ts‘e, he heard ‘The Shaou’; and for three months he did not know the taste of flesh. ‘I did not think,’ he said, ‘that music could have been made so excellent as this!’ ” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xiii.)

  Of the performance of another piece, “The Kwan Ts‘eu,” he said: “When the music-master, Che, first entered upon his office, the finish of ‘The Kwan Ts‘eu’ was magnificent. How it filled the ears!” (Analects, bk. viii., c. xv.)

  Of this piece he elsewhere said: “The Kwan Ts‘eu is expressive of enjoyment without being licentious and of grief without being hurtfully excessive.” (Analects, bk. iii., c. xx.)

  Obviously there were already performances of the oratorio or even the opera type, for in the “Li Ki” this is found: “Poetry gives the thought expression; singing prolongs the notes of the voice; pantomime puts the body into action. These three spring from the mind and musical instruments accompany them.” (Bk. xvii., sect. ii., 21.)

  “The Shaou” was evidently something akin to opera. Confucius indicates as much when he speaks its praise in the following, commingled with dispraise of certain other songs: “Let the music be Shaou with its pantomimes! Banish the songs of Ch‘ing and keep aloof from specious orators! The songs of Ch‘ing are licentious; specious orators are dangerous.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. x., v. 5, 6.)

  That “The Woo” was operatic is plainly shown by this description of it, given in the “Li Ki”: “Regarding the music of Woo, in the first scene, the pantomimes proceed towards the north to imitate the marching of Wu Wang against Shang (or the Yin dynasty). In the second scene, they show the extinction of Shang. In the third scene, they exhibit the victorious return to the south. In the fourth scene, they play the annexation of the southern states. In the fifth scene, they manifest the division of labour of the dukes of Chou and Shao, one on the left and the other on the right, in charge of the empire. In the sixth scene, they return to the point of starting to show that the work of the emperor is complete and that the whole empire recognizes him as the supreme ruler.” (Bk. xvii., sect. iii., 18.)

  The condemnation of the sage was visited in action as well as in words upon the following occasion: “The people of Ts‘e sent to Loo a present of female musicians, which Ke Hwan Tze accepted; and for three days no court was held. Confucius took his departure.” (Analects, bk. xviii., c. iv.)

  Loo, it is to be recalled, was the very state where Confucius afterwards revised and harmonized the music of the realm. Of mere jingle, he spoke disparagingly, thus: “ ‘It is music!’ they say, ‘It is music!’ Are bells and drums all that is meant by music?” (Analects, bk. xvii., c. xi.)

  In the “Li Ki” it is said, likewise: “What you ask about is music, what you like is sound. Now music and sound are akin but they are not the same.” (Bk. xvii., sect. iii., 9.)

  And yet greater purity of taste is indicated by this saying from the same book: “In music, more than aught else, there should be nothing showy or false.” (Bk. xvii., sect. ii., 22.)

  To his eldest son, Pih-yu, he said: “Give yourself to the Chow-nan and the Chaou-nan. The man who has not studied the Chow-nan and the Chaou-nan is like one who stands with his face against a wall.” (Analects, bk. xvii., c. x.)

  Confucius was himself a musical performer upon many instruments, according to tradition. In the “Analects” is found this account of his skill upon “the musical stone”: “The Master was playing one day on a musical stone in Wei, when a man carrying a straw basket passed the door of the house where Confucius was and said, ‘His heart is full who beats the musical stone!’ ” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xlii., v. 1.)

  That he had comprehensive knowledge of the art is obvious, not merely from what he did for the music of Loo but also from the fact that this saying of his was deemed worthy to be handed down: “How to play music may be known. At the commencement of the piece, all the parts should sound together. As it proceeds, they should be in harmony, severally distinct and flowing, without break, and thus on to the conclusion.” (Analects, bk. iii., c. xxiii.)

  That Chinese music had already progressed far beyond mere melodies is sufficiently plain, no doubt, from what has already been said. Yet it is germane to quote this from the “Li Ki”: “Harmony is the thing principally sought in music.” (Bk. xvii., sect. i., 29.)

  The following also indicates the reverence and respect in which Confucius was held even by the most accomplished singers of his time, both as a man and an expert on matters of taste, and perhaps as a musician also: “When the Master was in company with a person who was singing, if he sang well, he would make him repeat the song while he accompanied it with his own voice.” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xxxi.)

  His preference for classical music is voiced in this saying: “The men of former times, in the matters of ceremonies and music, were rustics, it is said, while the men of these later times, in ceremonies and music, are accomplished artists. If I have occasion to use those things, I follow the men of former times!” (Analects, bk. xi., c. i.)

  He included among the “three things men find enjoyment in, which are advantageous,” this: “The discriminating study of ceremonies and music.” (Analects, bk. xvi., c. v.)

  The method by which music is conceived of, as profoundly affecting the moral nature of man, is thus circumstantially and persuasively delineated in the “Li Ki”: “Hence the superior man returns to the good affections proper to his nature, in order to bring his will into harmony with them, and compares the different qualities of actions in order to perfect his conduct. Notes that are evil and depraved and sights leading to disorder and licentiousness are not allowed to affect his ears and eyes. Licentious music and corrupted ceremonies are not admitted into the mind to affect its powers. The spirit of idleness, indifference, depravity, and perversity finds no exhibition in his person.” (Bk. xvii., sect. ii., 15.)

  These most desirable results, however, by no means exhaust the conception of Confucius, of the benefits to the heart and mind which a full knowledge and appreciation of music can impart. The highest possibilities are set forth in these words of most enthusiastic eloquence, also in the pages of the “Li Ki”: “When one has mastered music completely and regulates his heart and mind accordingly, the natural, correct, gentle, and sincere heart is easily developed and joy attends its development. This joy proceeds into a feeling of calm. This calm continues long. In this unbroken calm the man is Heaven within himself. Like unto Heaven, he is spiritual. Like unto Heaven, though he speak not, he is accepted. Spiritual, he commands awe, without displaying anger.” (Bk. xvii., sect. iii., 23.)

  Ceremonies. “Ceremonies and music should not for a moment be neglected by any one.” (Li Ki, bk. xvii., sect. iii., v. 23.)

  In this passage from the “Li Ki” and in many other sayings of Confucius and his followers, music and ceremonies are mentioned together. This is particularly true in the “Li Ki” in which both subjects are most discussed and from which all the quotations under this head have been taken.

  It is partly explained, as follows: “The sphere in which music manifests, is within; the sphere of ceremonies is without.” (Li Ki, bk. xvii., sect. iii., v. 25.)

  This is repeated in another place with emphasis and with apposite deductions therefrom, thus: “Music springs from the inner motions of the soul; ceremonies are the outward motions of the body. Therefore do men make ceremonies as few and short as possible but give free range to music.” (Li Ki, bk. xvii., sect. iii., v. 26.)

  That Chinese ceremonies are, or were, few and short, none will perhaps credit, especially after looking through the portions relating to them in the works of Confucius. But it must be recalled—and it requires a distinct effort for the Occidental mind to conceive and to realize the thought—that ceremonies constitute a language,—a language, also, very erudite, richly expressive, ornate and comprehensive when developed as in China. This language, indeed, in its difficulties, as in many other respects, no doubt, is comparable only with a written language such as the ideographs of China constitute; and perhaps, like them, has within it the possibilities of a universal means of symbolical communication as by a printed text, entirely independent of the speech of men.

  It must have been with somewhat of this sentiment that the ancient sage viewed ceremonies, else his praise would be extravagant, indeed. It is said of those whose work was even then traditional: “The sages made music in response to Heaven and framed ceremonies in correspondence with Earth.” (Li Ki, bk. xvii., sect. i., v. 29.)

  Of good taste in manners as in music, the “Li Ki” well says: “The highest style of music is sure to be distinguished by its ease; the highest style of elegance, by its undemonstrativeness.” (Bk. xvii., sect. i., v. 17.)

  And it unites them with the real things of character and of life in these words: “Benevolence is akin to music and righteousness to ceremonies.” (Bk. xvii., sect. i., v. 28.)

  This also, is not a mere commonplace or abstraction in the mind of this wisest of the Orientals; for the book returns to it as follows: “He who has understood both ceremonies and music may be pronounced to be a possessor of virtue; virtue means self-realization.” (Li Ki, bk. xvii., sect. i., v. 8.)

  This work even indicates the method by which these practical results may flow from an art so simple and apparently so void of deep significance: “Perform ceremonies and music perfectly in all their outward manifestation and application, and all else under heaven will be easy.” (Li Ki, bk. xvii., sect. iii., v. 25.)

  This is more definitely and clearly said in the following: “The instructive and transforming power of ceremonies is subtle. They check depravity before it has taken form, causing men daily to move toward what is good and to keep themselves far from wrong-doing, without being conscious of it. It was on this account that the ancient kings set so high a value on them.” (Li Ki, bk. xxiii., 9.)

  Confucius, however, does not think of music as merely a human art, but also as the common speech of all intelligences of the universe; and he desires that ceremonies become and be to the eyes of men just such a delicate, graceful, and expressive mode of communication. Therefore their interrelationship with the seen and the unseen is asserted in the “Li Ki” in these terms, in no respect uncertain: “In music of the grandest style there is the same harmony that prevails between Heaven and Earth; in ceremonies of the grandest form there is the same graduation that exists between Heaven and Earth.” (Bk. xvii., sect. i., v. 19.)

  Yet more explicit is this language, all the more significant in that Confucius did not often discuss, or even refer to, spiritual beings: “In the visible there are ceremonies and music; in the invisible, the spiritual agencies.” (Li Ki, bk. xvii., sect. i., v. 19.)

  And in the same book he even asserted the psychical power of ceremonies, as of music,—of both of these, united—to summon the intelligences of the universe for communion with minds imprisoned in human bodies, in these burning phrases: “Ceremonies and music in their nature resemble Heaven and Earth, penetrate the virtues of the spiritual intelligences, bring down spirits from above and lift the souls that are abased.” (Bk. xvii., sect. iii., v. 2.)

  CHAPTER VII

  UNIVERSAL RELATIONS

  The views of Confucius on man’s relations to the universe are singularly in line with the cosmic philosophy of the ancient Greeks and Romans.

  Death and Immortality. “The body and the animal soul go downwards; and the intelligent spirit is on high.” (Li Ki, bk. vii., sect. i., 7.)

  Thus in the “Li Ki” is voiced the belief of the ancient Chinese, which was accepted by Confucius and his disciples, not as a saving article of creed, but merely as a fact. It is again stated in the “Li Ki” in this manner: “That the bones and flesh should return to earth is what is appointed. But the soul in its energy can go everywhere; it can go everywhere.” (Bk. ii., sect. ii., pt. iii., 13.)

  How fully this was accepted by Confucius, may be seen, not merely from the fact that by editing the “Li Ki” and permitting these apothegms to stand, he gave them his approval, but by this saying, much more explicit on this point, attributed to him by the same book: “The Master said: ‘The intelligent spirit is of the Shan nature and shows that in fullest measure; the animal soul is of the Kwei nature and shows that in fullest measure. . . . All who live, must die and, dying, return to the earth; this is what is called Kwei. The bones and flesh moulder below and, hidden away, become the earth of the fields. But the spirit issues forth and is displayed on high in a condition of glorious brightness.’ ” (Bk. xxi., sect. ii., 1.)

  That scientific investigation would show this to be true, is indicated by the “Yi King” (appendix iii., sect. i., c. iv., v. 2) thus: “He traces things to their beginning and follows them to their end; thus he knows what can be said about death and life.”

  His disciple, Tsang, in speaking thus of a man about to die, signified his view that death is but an awakening: “When a bird is about to die, its notes are mournful; when a man is about to die, his words are good.” (Analects, bk. viii., c. iv., v. 2.)

  The following account of the sanitary precautions to be taken when one is about to die, is given in the “Li Ki”: “When the illness was extreme, all about the establishment was swept clean, inside and out.” (Bk. xix., sect. i., 1.)

  And this of the precaution to assure that death has really taken place: “Fine floss was laid over to make sure that breathing had stopped.” (Bk. xix., sect. i., 1.)

  And yet another passage exhibits the same care which has long been taken in Occidental countries to avoid the possibility of burial alive: “Therefore when it is said that the body is not clothed in its last raiment until after three days, it signifies that it is so delayed to see if the father may not come to life.” (Li Ki, bk. xxxii., 4.)

  The following from the same book which devotes more attention to the subject than any other of the books upon which Confucius wrought or in which his sayings are recorded, is an apt and even illuminating statement of the peculiar horror with which the dead body has ever been regarded: “When a man dies, there arises a feeling of repugnance; the impotence of his body causes one to revolt from it.” (Bk. ii., sect. ii., pt. ii., 8.)

  Khang-Tsze Kâo, in the “Li Ki,” is reported as saying the following upon the ethics of burial, urging that the disposition of the bodies of the dead should not interfere with the welfare of the living: “I have heard that in life we should be useful to others and in death do them no harm. Though I may not have been useful to others in life, shall I in death do them harm? When I am dead, choose a piece of barren ground and bury me there.” (Bk. ii., sect. i., pt. iii.)

  In the same book Confucius is credited with having inaugurated, or, if not, with having confirmed, a departure from the ancient custom of levelling the earth over the grave, so that it would become indistinguishable: “When Confucius had buried his mother in the same grave [i. e., in which his father was interred], he said: ‘I have heard that the ancients, in making graves, raised no mound over them. But I am a man who will be east, west, south, and north.’ On this he raised a mound, four feet high.” (Bk. ii., sect. i., pt. i., 6.)

  After the fact of death is assured, however, and before any other ceremony or duty relative to the departed is performed, there is the “calling back” of the soul to reoccupy the garments he has quitted. The “Li Ki” describes it thus: “At calling back the soul . . . an officer of low rank performed the ceremony. All who co-operated, used court robes of the deceased. . . . In all cases they ascended the east wing to the middle of the roof, where the footing was perilous. Facing the north, they gave three loud calls for the deceased; after which they rolled up the garment they had used and cast it down in front where the wardrobe-keeper received it.” (Bk. xix., sect. i., 3.)

  The garments used in calling back the soul were not available to array the corpse; upon this the same book says: “The robe which was used in calling the soul back was not used to cover or to clothe the corpse.” (Bk. xix., sect. i., 4.)

  The appellation used in summoning the soul to return appears from this passage: “In all cases of calling back the soul, a man was called by his name and a woman by her designation.” (Li Ki, bk. xix., sect. i., 4.)

  The levelling of rank by the unrelenting hand of death is typified by this feature of this ancient ceremony: “In summoning the dead to return and in writing the inscription, the language was the same for all, from the son of Heaven to the ordinary officer.” (Li Ki, bk. xiii., sect. ii., 7.)

  The purpose and significance of the ceremony, which, when the dead is a parent, is but the commencement of lifelong veneration for his spirit and attempted communion with it, are revealed in this passage from the same book: “Calling the soul back is the way love receives its consummation, and contains the expression of the mind in prayer.” (Bk. ii., sect. ii., pt. i., 22.)

  Communion with Departed Ancestors. “They served the dead as they would have served them when living; they served the departed as they would have served them, had they continued with them.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xix., v. 5.)

  In these words from the “Doctrine of the Mean” Confucius set forth the conception of the observances of filial piety toward parents and other nearly related ancestors which should be continued unbroken throughout life, even after they depart this life—a conception which pervaded his own conduct, as is thus described in the “Analects”: “He sacrificed to the dead as if they were present. He sacrificed to the spirits, as if the spirits were present.” (Bk. iii., c. xii.)

  The central idea is that the disembodied soul of this ancestor is yet interested in the conduct of his family in the world of flesh and, if given an opportunity to do so by the due observance of sacrificial rites, watches over and communes with his descendants, in order to warn, counsel, rebuke, and even to correct them. This he does, not merely for their sake but also for his own, to the end that the good name of the family may become more illustrious, thus redounding to his own credit, as well as to the credit of the living.

  This idea of “accumulating goodness” by means of serried generations of men who acquit themselves well in all the offices of life, is an important feature of the sanction which the pious reverence for ancestors, both when living and after death, gives for correct moral conduct throughout life.

  Upon this, the “Yi King” (appendix iv., sect. ii., c. iii., 5) says: “The family that accumulates goodness is sure to have superabundant happiness, and the family that accumulates evil, to have superabundant misery. The murder of a ruler by his minister or of a father by his son, is not the result of the events of one morning or one evening. The causes of it have gradually accumulated, through the absence of early discrimination.”

  And it thus presents yet another view of the lamentable consequences of neglect of this law of what we moderns term “heredity”: “If acts of goodness be not accumulated, they are not sufficient to give its finish to one’s name; if acts of evil be not accumulated, they are not sufficient to destroy one’s life. The inferior man thinks that small acts of goodness are of no benefit and does not do them, and that small deeds of evil do no harm and does not abstain from them. Hence his wickedness becomes great till it cannot be covered and his guilt becomes great till it cannot be pardoned.” (Yi King, appendix iii., sect. ii., c. v., 38.)

  The general view of the filial duty of the progeny both toward living ancestors and toward the dead, so far as concerns avoiding acts which will disgrace them and cultivating conduct which will do them credit, has, however, been fully set forth in the chapters upon the subject of filial piety. Here we have to do only with the reverent ceremonies in the ancestral temples, by means of which veneration for the souls of the departed was exhibited and communion with them was sought. To these ceremonies the “Hsiâo King” (c. viii.) thus refers: “In such a state of things, parents while living reposed in their sons; and when dead and offered sacrifices, their disembodied spirits enjoyed the offerings.”

  The mode of effecting this was by offering sacrifices of food and drink, accompanied with ceremonies, more or less elaborate according to the rank and estate of the son. The eldest living son in these august ceremonies impersonated the deceased father and presided at the sacrifice.

  Only the emperor sacrifices to his ancestors generally; the king, only to ancestors to the fourth removal; feudal princes and great officers to those of the third degree; high officers to parents and grandparents; subordinate administrative officers and the common people to the immediate parent only. All ancestors further removed were said to “remain in the ghostly state,” i.e., presumably, to interest themselves not at all in matters of this earth. In the “Li Ki,” this is described thus: “The death of all creatures is spoken of, as their dissolution; but man, when dead, is said to be in the ghostly state.” (Bk. xx., 4.)

  Recurring to the statement that sacrifices should be offered to the dead as if they were living, we find that the “Li Ki” offers a necessary qualification of this in the following caution: “In dealing with the dead, if we treat them as if they were entirely dead, that would show want of affection and should not be done; if we treat them as if they were entirely living, that would show want of wisdom and should not be done.” (Bk. ii., sect. i., pt. iii., 3.)

  Something of the manner of offering these sacrifices and also of the purpose of it is set forth in this passage from the same book: “The ruler and his wife take alternate parts in presenting these offerings, all being done to please the souls of the departed and constituting a union with the disembodied and unseen.” (Bk. vii., sect. i., 11.)

  And the purpose, spiritual communion, in this: “It was thus that they maintained their intercourse with spiritual intelligences.” (Bk. ix., sect. i., 5.)

  Confucius thus rebukes attempts to secure free communion with spirits of men with whom one is not connected by ancestral ties: “For a man to sacrifice to a spirit which does not belong to him, is flattery.” (Analects, bk. ii., c. xxiv., v. 1.)

  The mischief of such miscellaneous seeking after communications from departed spirits is so familiar a thing in all ages that it is both a relief and also reassuring to find it thus set forth by the sage who apparently fully recognized both the continuance of conscious life after the change, called death, and the possibility of intercommunication between intelligences yet in this world and intelligences that have departed from it.

  In view of his primary injunction to investigate all phenomena, it seems improbable that he would have condemned scientific research in such matters; but mere idle promiscuity of such communion was to his mind an impertinence, a peril, and even an act of impiety; yet in “Shuo Yüan,” he is reported as saying: “If I were to say that the dead have consciousness, I am afraid that filial sons and dutiful grandsons would impair their substance in paying their last offices to the departed; and if I were to say that the dead have not consciousness, I am afraid that unfilial sons and undutiful grandsons would leave their parents unburied. If you wish to know whether the dead have consciousness or not, you will know it when you die. There is no need to speculate upon it now.” (Bk. xviii.)

  This, however, appears to be of dubious authenticity as a statement by Confucius, and certainly is not in harmony with his general teaching upon this subject.

  General sacrifices, also inviting such communion, might however be offered, according to the prescriptions of the “Li Ki,” to a few who had served their fellow-men with thoroughness and distinction. The following passage illustrates the nature of these exceptions: “According to the institutes of the sage kings about sacrifices, they should be offered to him who gave just laws to the people; to him who laboured unto death in the discharge of his duties; to him who by indefatigable industry strengthened the state; to him who with courage and success faced great calamities; and to him who warded off great evils.” (Bk. xx., 9.)

  It was not in the least the ancient conception of sacrifice to ancestors that it should be a season of recreation or often be repeated. It should take place at least once each year, upon the anniversary of the departure of the ancestor, and sacrifices might also be held in the spring and autumn, in accordance with these instructions in the “Li Ki”: “Sacrifices should not be frequently repeated. Such frequency is indicative of importunateness, and importunateness is inconsistent with reverence. Nor should they be at distant intervals. Such infrequency is indicative of indifference; and indifference leads to forgetting them altogether. Therefore, the superior man, in harmony with the course of Heaven, offers the spring and autumn sacrifices. When he treads the dew which has descended as hoar-frost, he cannot help a feeling of sadness which arises in his mind and cannot be ascribed to the cold. In spring, when he treads upon the ground, wet with the rains and dews that have fallen heavily, he cannot avoid being moved by a feeling as if he were seeing his departed friends. We greet the approach of our friends with music and escort them away with sadness, and hence at the spring sacrifice we use music but not at the autumn sacrifice.” (Bk. xxi., sect. i., 1.)

  This, from the same book, cautions against over-indulgence in this regard: “Do not take liberties with or weary spiritual beings!” (Li Ki, bk. xv., 22.)

  The following injunctions against attempting to make of the sacrifice a time of rest or recreation are also from the “Li Ki”: “In maintaining intercourse with spiritual, intelligent beings, there should be nothing like an extreme desire for rest and ease for our personal gratification.” (Bk. ix., sect. ii., 16.)

  “The idea which leads to intercourse with spiritual beings is not interchangeable with that which finds its realization in rest and pleasure.” (Bk. ix., sect. ii., 15.)

  And earnest efforts to attain the purposes of the sacrifice are pronounced indispensable in the following passage: “When they had reverently done their utmost, they could serve the spiritual intelligences.” (Li Ki, bk. xxii., 5.)

  The following more particularly describes what is necessary in this regard: “Therefore there was the milder discipline of the mind for seven days, to bring it to a state of singleness of purpose; and the fuller discipline of it for three days, to concentrate all the thoughts. That concentration is called purification; its final attainment is when the highest order of pure intelligence is reached. Then only is it possible to enter into communion with the spiritual intelligences.” (Li Ki, bk. xxii., 6.)

  The nature of this earnest concentration is sufficiently indicated in the following account of the procedure of the ancients: “When the time came for offering a sacrifice, the man wisely gave himself to the work of purification. That purification meant concentration and singleness, rendering all uniform until the thoughts were all focussed upon one object.” (Li Ki, bk. xxii., 6.)

  Or as more briefly said in another place, thus: “Sacrificing means ‘directing one’s self to.’ The son directs his thoughts and then he can offer up the sacrifice.” (Li Ki, bk. xxi., 6.)

  The absolute necessity for this single-minded sincerity is asserted in these words ascribed by the “Shu King” to I Yin: “The spirits do not always accept the sacrifices that are offered to them; they accept only the sacrifices of the sincere.” (Pt. iv., bk. v., sect. iii., 1.)

  In the “Li Ki” the subjective character of true sacrifice or seeking for spiritual communion is thus set forth: “Sacrifice comes not to a man from without; it issues from him and flows from his heart.” (Bk. xxii., 1.)

  Its subjective benefits are also thus portrayed: “Only men of ability and character can give complete expression to the concept of sacrifice. The sacrifices of such men have their reward, not indeed what the world calls reward. Their reward is the perfecting of self; this also means the full and normal discharge of all one’s duties.” (Li Ki, bk. xxii., 2.)

  It must not for a moment be supposed, however, that such was the only or indeed the chief purpose in performing the arduous ceremonies of devotion for departed ancestors. Instead, actual, perceptible, realized communion and communication, resulting in counsel, warning, commendation, or reproof, and, in general, assistance in directing his course so that it will be creditable both to his ancestors and to himself, were expected and intended. The “Li Ki” does not leave this for a moment in doubt; for it says: “The object of all the ceremonies is to bring down the spirits from above, even their ancestors.” (Bk. vii., sect. i., 10.)

  It will be recalled that in the following passage regarding the influence of ceremonies and music, already quoted from the “Li Ki,” this idea of summoning the spirits of the departed is involved: “Ceremonies and music in their nature resemble Heaven and Earth, penetrate the virtues of spiritual intelligences, bring down spirits from above, and lift the souls that are abased.” (Bk. xvii., sect. iii., 2.)

  And also pertinent to the subject, is this passage: “In the visible sphere, there are ceremonies and music; in the invisible, the spiritual agencies.” (Li Ki, bk. xvii., sect. i., 19.)

  And of one who is completely under the spell of music, this, also, already quoted: “In this unbroken calm the man is Heaven within himself. Like unto Heaven, he is spiritual. Like unto Heaven, though he speaks not, he is accepted. Spiritual, he commands awe, without displaying anger.” (Li Ki, bk. xvii., sect. iii., 23.)

  These are recognized means of producing psychical phenomena in these days of scientific investigation, as also are the following, likewise from the “Li Ki,” save that fixing the mind upon that which it desires to behold would be shunned as tending to self-delusion: “The severest vigil and purification are maintained and carried on inwardly, while a scarcely looser vigil is maintained outwardly. During the days of such vigil, the mourner thinks of his departed, how and where they sat, how they smiled and spoke, what were their aims and views, what they delighted in, what they desired and enjoyed. On the third day of such discipline, he will see those for whom it has been exercised.” (Bk. xxi., sect. i., 2.)

  Spiritual Beings and Spiritual Power. “The rites to be observed by all under heaven were intended to promote the return of the mind to the source of all things, the honouring of spiritual beings, the harmonious utilization of government, righteousness, and humility.” (Li Ki, bk. xxi., sect. i., 20.)

  The broader purpose of sacrifices to ancestors, viz.: to make men conscious and aware at all times of the existences of spiritual beings and of their powers, is well set forth in the foregoing, from the “Li Ki.”

  The following passage from the “Yi King,” already quoted in another connection, refers to the same process of scientific inquiry: “When we minutely investigate the nature and reasons of things till we have entered into the inscrutable and spiritual in them, we attain to the largest practical application of them; when that application becomes quickest and readiest and personal poise is secured, our virtue is thereby exalted. Proceeding beyond this, we reach a point which it is hardly possible to comprehend; we have thoroughly mastered the inscrutable and spiritual and understand the processes of transformation. This is the fulness of virtue.” (Appendix iii., sect. ii., c. v., 33, 34.)

  Yet, in order to enforce the very necessary lesson that in this life it is the duties here and now with which a man should concern himself, Confucius often rebuked over-insistent curiosity concerning disembodied spirits and the future life. Several of these sayings have been quoted elsewhere; and of them these only are reproduced here: “To give one’s self earnestly to the duties due to men, and while respecting spiritual beings to keep aloof from them, may be called wisdom.” (Analects, bk. vi., c. xx.)

  “Ke Loo asked about serving the spirits of the dead. The Master said: ‘While you are not able to serve men, how can you serve their spirits?’ Ke Loo then said: ‘I venture to ask about death.’ He was answered: ‘While you do not know life, how can you know about death?’ ” (Analects, bk. xi., c. xi.)

  In the “Analects,” it is also related of Confucius by his disciples: “The subjects on which the Master did not talk, were: extraordinary things, feats of strength, disorder, and spiritual beings.” (Bk. vii., c. x.)

  Yet in the “Doctrine of the Mean” he is quoted as declaring: “How abundantly do spiritual beings display the powers that belong to them! We look for them but we do not see them; we listen but we do not hear them. Yet they permeate all things and there is nothing without them.” (C. xvi., v. 1, 2.)

  In the “Yi King” much more is said about the general subject and this definition of spirit is given: “When we speak of spirit, we mean the subtle element of all things.” (Appendix v., c. vi., 10.)

  The author of this conceived of the universe as the field of operations and the result of operations of force and substance, of static and dynamic powers, in the phenomena produced by which he recognized the activities of spirit, thus: “That which is unfathomable in the movement of the passive and active operations, is the presence of a spiritual power.” (Yi King, appendix iii., sect. i., c. v., 32.)

  The close similarity of this view with the most recent views of modern scientists is illustrated yet more startlingly in this passage, also from the “Yi King” (appendix iii., c. v., 24): “The successive interaction of the passive and active forces constitutes what is called the flow of phenomena.”

  The “Yi King” is a book, written for the most part in highly symbolical language,—it is often utilized by the Chinese for purposes of divination as will be seen,—which had even for Confucius himself already become so difficult to master and at the same time so fascinating, that the sage once said of it: “If some years were added to my life, I would give fifty to the study of the Yi and then I might come to be without great faults.” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xvi.)

  In this book, i. e., the “Yi King,” Confucius said of the clear perception of the spiritual activities underlying phenomena: “He who knows the method of change and transformation, may be said to know what is done by spiritual power.” (Appendix iii., sect. i., c. ix., 58.)

  And again, in this illustrative manner: “Does not he who knows the causes of things, possess spirit-like wisdom? The superior man, in his intercourse with the exalted, uses no flattery; and in his intercourse with the humble, no coarse freedom—does not this show that he knows the causes of things?” (Appendix iii., sect. ii., c. v., 41.)

  And yet more eloquently in this passage of the “Li Ki” are the essential spirituality and prescience of the pure and sincere mind set forth: “When the personal character is pure and clean, the spirit and mind are like those of a spiritual being. When what such an one desires is about to come to pass, he is sure to have premonitions of it, as when Heaven sends down the rains in due season and the hills condense the vapours into clouds.” (Li Ki, bk. xxvi., 8.)

  This is yet more concisely said in this passage from the “Doctrine of the Mean” (c. xxiv.), already quoted: “When calamities or blessings are about to befall, the good or the evil will surely be foreknown to him. He, therefore, who is possessed of the completest sincerity, is like a spirit.”

  Heaven. “In order to know men, he may not dispense with a knowledge of Heaven.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xx., v. 7.)

  In the foregoing from the “Doctrine of the Mean” is announced both the view of the disciples of Confucius that there is a divinity “that shapes our ends, rough hew them how we will,” and also that, through His works, He may be known of men. This saying is only another version of this passage of the “Yi King” (appendix i., c. liv., 1): “If Heaven and Earth were to have no intercommunication, things would not grow and flourish as they do.”

  The expression “Heaven” seems to stand rather for all the spiritual beings, if more than one, that hold sway over the universe. Earlier, it undoubtedly signified this; for in the “Shu King,” Mu is credited with this most extraordinary statement: “Then he [i. e., Yao] commissioned Khung and Li to make an end of the communications between Earth and Heaven; and the descents of spirits ceased.” (Pt. v., bk. xxvii., 2.)

  By the days of Confucius in any event, the recognition of an unimaginably great universe of spirit was firmly coupled in the minds of sages with the principle that man’s duties here are with his fellow-men and that he will but fail in their performance if he continually seeks communion with intelligences of the spirit universe.

  Confucius does not present the view that Heaven so communicates with Earth that there may be complete revelation of its purposes and processes, by verbal inspiration or otherwise. Instead, he says: “Does Heaven speak? The four seasons pursue their courses, and all things are continually being produced; but does Heaven say anything?” (Analects, bk. xvii., c. xix., v. 3.)

  This is further expatiated upon in “The Doctrine of the Mean” (c. xvi., v. 1, 2) as follows: “The Master said: ‘How abundantly do spiritual beings display the powers that belong to them! We look for them but do not see them; we listen for them but do not hear them. Yet they enter into all things and there is nothing without them.’ ”

  And in the “Shi King” the continual presence of these invisible witnesses is thus cited as abundant reason for virtuous conduct when in the privacy of one’s chamber: “Looked at in your chamber, you ought to be equally free from shame before the light which shines in. Do not say: ‘This place is not public; no one can see me here.’ The approaches of spiritual beings cannot be foretold; the more, therefore, should they not be left out of the account.” (Major Odes, decade iii., ode 2.)

  Confucius also says: “But there is Heaven—it knows me!” (Analects, bk. xiv., c. xxxvii., v. 2.)

  The “Yi King” thus describes the greatest of the joint offices of Heaven and Earth: “The great attribute of Heaven and Earth is the giving and maintaining life.” (Appendix iii., c. i., 10.)

  And again in the following, already quoted in another connection: “Heaven and Earth are separate and apart, but the work which they do is the same. Male and female are separate and apart, but with a common will they seek the same object.” (Appendix i., c. xxxviii., v. 3.)

  This idea is again put forward in the “Li Ki” in this fashion: “Man is the product of the attributes of Heaven and of Earth through the interaction of the dual forces of nature, the union of animal and intelligence, the finest and most subtle matter of the five elements.” (Bk. vii., sect. iii., 1.)

  This theory is developed further in this passage from the same book: “This [i. e., the Grand Unity] separated and became Heaven and Earth. It revolved and became the dual force in nature. It changed and became the four seasons. It was distributed and became the breathings, thrilling in the universal frame. Its lessons, transmitted to men, are called its orders; the law and authority of them are in Heaven.” (Bk. vii., sect. iv., 4.)

  Thinking of Heaven as the creator of man apparently caused it soon to be addressed in prayer by poor humanity; and accordingly we find this in the “Yi King” (appendix ii., sect. ii., c. xlii., 6): “There is the misery of having none upon whom to call.”

  Confucius stated it in even stronger terms, when he said: “He who offends against Heaven, has none to whom he can pray.” (Analects, bk. iii., c. xiii., v. 2.)

  Such prayer, continually offered by means of a virtuous and useful life, Confucius commended and practised. As much appears from this: “The Master being very sick, Tsze-loo asked leave to pray for him. He said: ‘May such a thing be done?’ Tsze-loo replied: ‘It may. In the Prayers it is said: “Prayer has been made to the spirits of the upper and lower worlds.” ’ The Master said: ‘My prayer has been for a long time.’ ” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xxxiv.)

  That man, even before his transition, may become the co-worker, however, with the spiritual forces which constitute Heaven and even of equal dignity with them, the “Doctrine of the Mean” (c. xxii.,) thus declares: “Able to assist the transforming and nourishing powers of Heaven and Earth, he may with Heaven and Earth form a ternion.”

  And again of the man of the completest sincerity, i. e., Chinese scholars assert, Confucius: “Hence it is said: ‘He is the peer of Heaven!’ ” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xxxi., v. 3.)

  This is much more explicitly set forth in this passage from the same book; also considered by Chinese scholars to refer to Confucius: “It is only the individual possessed of the most entire sincerity that can exist under Heaven, who can adjust the great, unvarying relations of mankind, establish the great, fundamental virtues of humanity, and comprehend the transforming and nourishing processes of Heaven and Earth. Shall such an one have any being or anything beyond himself on which he depends?” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xxxii., v. 1.)

  Providence. “Without recognizing the ordinances of Heaven, it is impossible to be a superior man.” (Analects, bk. xx., c. iii., v. 1.)

  Thus in the “Analects” Confucius gives expression to the necessity for full recognition of the unchanging laws of the universe and their operation.

  In the “Yi King,” the blessed consequences of knowledge of these laws and of trust in the beneficent purposes of the powers that are the universe, are thus portrayed: “He acts according to the exigency of circumstances without being carried away by their current. He rejoices in Heaven and knows its ordinances; and hence he has no anxieties.” (Appendix iii., sect. i., c. v., 22.)

  The same sentiment and conception are voiced in these words from the “Doctrine of the Mean” (c. xiv., v. 4): “Thus it is that the superior man is grave and calm, waiting for the appointments of Heaven, while the inferior man walks in dangerous paths, looking for lucky occurrences.”

  The ancients of China had evolved from this, the idea of a just Providence, rewarding for good deeds and punishing for evil. Thus in the “Shu King,” I Yin is represented as saying: “Good and evil do not wrongly befall men, but Heaven sends down misery or happiness according to their conduct.” (Pt. iv., bk. vi., 2.)

  And Ch‘êng Tang in the same book, as follows: “The way of Heaven is to bless the good and make the bad miserable.” (Pt. iv., bk. iii., 2.)

  And the Duke of Kau also in the same book: “Heaven gives length of days to the just and the intelligent.” (Pt. v., bk. xvi., 2.)

  And King Wu: “I clearly consider that, severe as are the inflictions of Heaven on me, I dare not murmur.” (Pt. v., bk. ix., 4.)

  The “Doctrine of the Mean” says of the superior man: “He does not murmur against Heaven.” (C. xiv., v. 3.)

  Confucius also said of himself in the “Analects”: “I do not murmur against Heaven.” (Bk. xiv., c. xxxvii., v. 2.)

  That this is a universe of law, however, and not of special interpositions of Providence, is everywhere insisted on.

  In the “Li Ki,” Confucius is recorded as saying: “Heaven covers all without partiality; earth sustains and embraces all without partiality; the sun and the moon shine upon all without partiality.” (Bk. xxvi., 6.)

  In the “Shu King,” Mu is reported to have said: “It is not Heaven that does not deal impartially with men, but men ruin themselves.” (Pt. v., bk. xxvii., 6.)

  And Zu Ki, as speaking in this fashion: “It is not Heaven that cuts short men’s lives; they themselves bring them to an end.” (Shu King, pt. iv., bk. ix.)

  This saying of Tai Chai in the same book certainly has a most modern sound: “Calamities sent by Heaven may be avoided, but from calamities brought on by one’s self there is no escape.” (Shu King, pt. iv., bk. v., sect. ii., 2.)

  Confucius himself sets forth the conception of the protection of Providence, thus: “Heaven produced the virtue that is in me. Hwan Tuy—what can he do to me?” (Analects, bk. vii., c. xxii.)

  And this, also from the “Analects,” is yet more to the point: “The Master was put in apprehension in K‘wang. He said: ‘Since the death of King Wan, has not the cause of truth been lodged here in me? If Heaven had wished to let this cause of truth perish, then I, a mortal yet to be born, should not have got such a relation to that cause. While Heaven does not let this cause of truth perish, what can the people of K‘wang do to me?’ ” (Analects, bk. ix., c. v.)

  This subject is so extremely important and all that is found in the Confucian classics so little, relatively, that the following passages, which have already been quoted in other connexions, are again given: “Riches and honours depend upon Heaven.” (Analects, bk. xii., c. v., v. 3.)

  “What Heaven confers, when once lost, will not be regained.” (Shi King, Minor Odes of the Kingdom, decade v., ode 2.)

  “When Heaven is about to confer a great office on any man, it first disciplines his mind with suffering and his bones and sinews with toil. It exposes him to want and subjects him to extreme poverty. It confounds his undertakings. By all these methods, it stimulates his mind, hardens him, and supplies his shortcomings.” (Mencius, bk. vi., pt. ii., c. xv., v. 2.)

  “Filial piety is the constant requirement of Heaven.” (Hsiâo King, c. vii.)

  “Sincerity is the path of Heaven.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xx., v. 18.)

  “Awful though Heaven be, it yet helps the sincere.” (Shu King, pt. v., bk. ix., 2.)

  In the “Doctrine of the Mean” this last thought is much more thoroughly worked out—indeed into a theory of intimate co-operation with Heaven, actually of ability to transform. This, to which reference has already been made in the preceding section, is set forth with some fulness in this passage, deemed by Chinese scholars to refer to Confucius: “It is only he who is possessed of the completest sincerity that can exist under Heaven, who can give its full development to his nature. Able to give its full development to his own nature, he can do the same to the nature of other men. Able to give its full development to the nature of other men, he can give their full development to the natures of animals and things. Able to give their full development to the natures of animals and things, he can assist the transforming and nourishing powers of Heaven and Earth.” (Doctrine of the Mean, c. xxii.)

  One of the most fervent commendations of music and ceremonies, already quoted from the “Li Ki,” runs: “In music of the grandest style, there is the same harmony that prevails between Heaven and Earth; in ceremonies of the grandest form there is the same graduation that exists between Heaven and Earth.” (Bk. xvii., sect. i., 19.)

  The following somewhat cryptic passage from the “Yi King” illustrates the view of Confucius concerning the opposite tendencies of things spiritual and of things material: “Notes of the same pitch respond to one another; creatures of the same nature seek one another; water flows toward the marsh; fire catches upon what is dry; . . . the sage makes his appearance and all men look to him. Things that have their origin in Heaven, tend upward; things that have their origin in Earth, cling to what is below.” (Appendix iv., sect. i., c. ii., 8.)

  The following from the same great book of mystery, relative to the harmony that must subsist in order that man be truly great, is perhaps more clearly and surely comprehensible: “The great man is he who is in harmony, in his attributes, with Heaven and Earth; in his brightness, with sun and moon; in his orderly procedure, with the four seasons; in his relations with good and evil fortune, with the spiritual operations of Providence.” (Yi King, appendix iv., sect. i., c. vi.)

  God. “There is the great God; does He hate any one?” (Shi King, Minor Odes, decade iv., ode 8.)

  The number of times in all the Confucian classics that the appellation for Deity occurs which indicates personality and not something impersonal or multi-personal, like Heaven, and which may accordingly properly be translated, “God,” instead of “Heaven,” is exceedingly few. The similarity of the use of words, one singular and the other plural in form, to the “Jehovah” and “Elohim” of the Hebrews is worthy of remark. The foregoing saying, Christian, even Christ-like in its spirit, occurs in one of the Odes of the “Shi King.” In the same book are found the only passages in all these classics which affirm that God has spoken to any man. There are three of them, of which this is the only one of general application: “God said to King Wan: ‘Be not like them who reject this and cling to that. Be not like them who are ruled by their likes and desires.’ ” (Shi King, Major Odes, decade i., ode 7.)

  If this were indeed the word of God and His only revelation to man, this command to be free and impartial and not to be ruled by mere desire could not be deemed unworthy.

  In the “Li Ki” the following circumstantial account is given of the rise from primitive barbarity, reaching its acme in the worship—not of gods—but of God: “Formerly the ancient kings had no houses. In winter they lived in caves which they had excavated, and in summer in nests which they had framed. They knew not the transforming power of fire, but ate the fruit of plants and trees and the flesh of birds and beasts, drinking their blood and swallowing hair and feathers. They knew not yet the use of flax and silk, but clothed themselves with feathers and skins.

  “The later sages then arose, and men learned to utilize the blessing of fire. They moulded metals and fashioned clay, so as to rear towers with structures on them and houses with windows and doors. They toasted, grilled, broiled, and roasted. They produced must and sauces. They dealt with the flax and silk, so as to form linen and silken fabrics. They were thus able to nourish the living and to make offerings to the dead, to serve the spirits of the departed and God.” (Li Ki, bk. vii., sect. i., 9.)

  The exalted conception which these ancients, so chary about using His name or claiming a knowledge of Him which mortal may not attain, really had of God, and of the qualifications required in order to worship Him in spirit and in truth, is indicated in this text from the “Li Ki”: “It is only the sage who can sacrifice to God.” (Bk. xxi., sect. i., 6.)

  To this, also, may be referred with greatest emphasis this other saying in the “Li Ki”: “Do not take liberties with or weary spiritual beings.” (Bk. xv., 22.)

  The shock with which this idea of remoteness and even exclusiveness must needs be received by a people who have so lately emerged—if, indeed, we have emerged—from the most violent controversies as to which man or group of men knew all about the Almighty, His designs, His will, His purposes with His creature, man, may possibly be relieved a little by the reflection that this aloofness would at least be unfavourable to the development of that levity and jocose blasphemy concerning the Great Spirit to which somehow our over-familiarity has conduced.

  The ancient Chinese had the same conception of the possibility of ascertaining the future from the Divine Mind, by oracular utterances or divination, which was also common to the Greeks, the Romans, and other peoples in ancient times. The following passage from the “Yi King” charges the superior man to engage in no important undertaking without thus seeking Divine enlightenment and guidance: “Therefore, when a superior man is about to take action of a more private or of a public character, he asks the Yi, making his inquiry in words. It receives his order and the answer comes as the echo’s response. Be the subject remote or near, mysterious or deep, he forthwith knows of what kind will be the coming result.” (Appendix iii., sect. i., c. x., 60.)

  The foregoing has striking similarity to the consultation of the oracle in the days of classic Greece. The “Li Ki” gives the following description, however, of divining by the use of the “Yi King,” which shows that a most peculiar and indeed singular custom of divining had sprung up among the Chinese: “Anciently the sages, having determined the phenomena of Heaven and Earth in states of rest and activity, made them the basis for the Yi. The diviner held the tortoise-shell in his arms, with his face toward the south, while the son of Heaven, in his dragon-robe and square-topped cap, stood with his face toward the north. The latter, however, discerning his mind, felt it necessary to proceed to obtain a decision upon what he purposed, thus showing that he dared not pursue his own course and deferred to the will of Heaven.” (Li Ki, bk. xxi., sect. ii., 25.)

  Though nowhere in the “Analects” or “The Great Learning,” all or most of the text of which is attributed to Confucius though handed down by his disciples, is there mention of the personal name, God, as distinguished from the impersonal one, Heaven, which is several times used, in the “Li Ki” the following is found: “These were the words of the Master, ‘The ancient and wise kings of the three dynasties served the spiritual intelligences of Heaven and Earth. They invariably consulted the tortoise-shells and divining stalks; and did not presume to use their private judgment in serving God.’ ” (Bk. xxix., 52.)

  And in the “Doctrine of the Mean,” the following: “By the ceremonies of the sacrifices to Heaven and Earth they served God.”

  It is but a step, to be sure,—and one which was frequently taken in all parts of the world,—from trust in Providence to a belief that God determines all fortuitous events and accordingly that by observation of them His will may be known.

  In another place, however, the “Li Ki” seems pointedly to disapprove attempts to penetrate the mysteries of the future: “Do not try . . . to fathom what has not yet arrived.” (Bk. xv., 22.)

  It is, perhaps, sufficiently obvious from all that is in this book—and yet more from all of the text of the Confucian classics, that is ascribed to Confucius, or apparently emanates from him—that the sage did not intend to dogmatize concerning the personality, the identity, the nature, the purposes of God, nor to limit the earnest seekers after Him, whatever path they were destined to pursue in this so bootless quest for that which is unknowable. He was but a sage, seeking to make of his fellow-men spiritual seers, apprehending clearly and sincerely the truths that would guide them aright along the simple, but far from easy, path which mortals should tread. Should he guide them, indeed, into the mental morass of mere theological speculation upon the unknown and unknowable?

  Yet withal his own view was once clearly enunciated: “I seek unity, all pervading.” (Analects, bk. xv., c. ii., v. 2.)

  APPENDIX

  THE “GREAT PRINCIPLE” OF CONFUCIUS

  Dr. Chen Huan Chang in his work “The Economic Principles of Confucius and His School” gives the following version of a passage in the “Li Ki” (bk. vii., sect. i., 2, 3):

  “When the Great Principle (of the Great Similarity) prevails, the whole world becomes a republic; they elect men of talents, virtue, and ability; they talk about sincere agreement, and cultivate universal peace. Thus men do not regard as their parents only their own parents, nor treat as their children only their own children. A competent provision is secured for the aged till their death, employment for the middle-aged, and the means of growing up for the young. The widowers, widows, orphans, childless men, and those who are disabled by disease, are all sufficiently maintained. Each man has his rights, and each woman her individuality safeguarded. They produce wealth, disliking that it should be thrown away upon the ground, but not wishing to keep it for their own gratification. Disliking idleness, they labour, but not alone with a view to their own advantage. In this way selfish schemings are repressed and find no way to arise. Robbers, filchers, and rebellious traitors do not exist. Hence the outer doors remain open, and are not shut. This is the state of what I call the Great Similarity.

  “Now that the Great Principle has not yet been developed, the world is inherited through family. Each one regards as his parents only his own parents, and treats as his children only his own children. The wealth of each and his labour are only for his self-interest. Great men imagine it is the rule that their estates should descend in their own families. Their object is to make the walls of their cities and suburbs strong and their ditches and moats secure. Rites and justice are regarded as the threads by which they seek to maintain in its correctness the relation between ruler and minister; in its generous regard that between father and son; in its harmony that between elder brother and younger; and in a community of sentiment that between husband and wife; and in accordance with them they regulate consumption, distribute land and dwellings, distinguish the men of military ability and cunning, and achieve their work with a view to their own advantage. Thus it is that selfish schemes and enterprises are constantly taking their rise, and war is inevitably forthcoming. In this course of rites and justice, Yü, T‘ang, Wên, Wu, Ch‘êng Wang, and the Duke of Chou are the best examples of good government. Of these six superior men, every one was attentive to the rites, thus to secure the display of justice, the realization of sincerity, the exhibition of errors, the exemplification of benevolence, and the discussion of courtesy, showing the people all the constant virtues. If any ruler, having power and position, would not follow this course, he should be driven away by the multitude who regard him as a public enemy. This is the state of what I call the Small Tranquillity.”

  Dr. Chen identifies “The Small Tranquillity” with “The Advancing Peace Stage,” into which men proceed in the form of nations out of the primitive “Disorderly Stage,” and “The Great Similarity” with “The Extreme Peace Stage,” i. e., with what Tennyson meant in “Locksley Hall”:

  • “When the war drums throb no longer and the battle-flags are furled
  • In the parliament of man, the federation of the world.”

  Proceeding with this interpretation, Dr. Chen says: “This is the most important statement of all Confucius’ teachings. The stage of Great Similarity or Extreme Peace is the final aim of Confucius; it is the golden age of Confucianism. If we make a comparison between the Great Similarity and the Small Tranquillity, we may get a clear view. Everyone knows that Confucianism has five social relations and five moral constants: ruler and subject, father and son, elder and younger brothers, husband and wife, friend and friend, make up the five social relations; love, justice, rite, wisdom, and sincerity make up the five moral constants. But, according to the statement of Confucius himself, they belong only to the Small Tranquillity. Everyone knows that Confucianism is in favour of monarchical government and of filial piety. But they are good only in the Small Tranquillity. In the Great Similarity, the whole world is the only social organization, and the individual is the independent unit; both socialistic and individualistic characters reach the highest point. There is no national state, so that there is no war, no need of defence, nor of men of military ability and cunning. Men of talents, virtue, and ability are chosen by the people, so that the people themselves are the sovereign, and the relation between ruler and subject does not exist. Man and woman are not bound by the tie of marriage, so that the relations between husband and wife, between father and son, and between brothers do not exist. The only relation that remains is friendship. There is no family, so that there is no inheritance, no private property, no selfish scheme. There is no class, so that the only classification is made either by age or by sex; but whether old, middle-aged, or young, whether man or woman, each satisfies his needs. The Great Principle of the Great Similarity prevails, so that everyone is naturally as good as everyone else and the distinction of the five moral constants is gone. Each has only natural love toward others, regardless of artificial rites and justice. Speaking of the Small Tranquillity, Confucius gives six superior men as examples, but for the Great Similarity, he does not mention any one, because it has never existed. In the Canon of History, Confucius takes up Yao and Shun to represent the stage of Great Similarity as they did not hand down their thrones to their sons, yet he does not mention them here. The principle of the Three Stages is the principle of progress; we must look for the golden age in the future; the Extreme Peace or the Great Similarity is the goal.”

  The similarity of this conception to the social scheme of Socrates, as set forth in Plato’s “Republic,” is remarkable, as also its similarity to the views of advanced socialists nowadays. It is indeed significant and weighty if these two greatest intellects of the ancients and perhaps of all mankind saw this ultimate goal alike. But the interpretation may in some regards be deemed doubtful; and certainly others have interpreted it otherwise. Thus Legge translates the passage, using the past tense throughout, as follows:

  “When the Grand Course was pursued, a public and common spirit ruled all under the sky; they chose men of talents, virtue, and ability; their words were sincere, and what they cultivated was harmony. Thus men did not love their parents only, nor treat as children only their own sons. A competent provision was secured for the aged till their death, employment for the able-bodied, and the means of growing up to the young. They showed kindness and compassion to widows, orphans, childless men, and those who were disabled by disease, so that they were all sufficiently maintained. Males had their proper work, and females had their homes. (They accumulated) articles (of value) disliking that they should be thrown away upon the ground, but not wishing to keep them for their own gratification. (They laboured) with their strength, disliking that it should not be exerted, but not exerting it (only) with a view to their own advantage. In this way (selfish) schemings were repressed and found no development. Robbers, filchers, and rebellious traitors did not show themselves, and hence the outer doors remained open, and were not shut. This was (the period of) what we call the Grand Union.

  “Now that the Grand Course has fallen into disuse and obscurity, the kingdom is a family inheritance. Everyone loves (above all others) his own parents and cherishes (as) children (only) his own sons. People accumulate goods and exert their strength for their own advantage. Great men imagine it is the rule that their estates should descend in their own families. Their object is to make the walls of their cities and suburbs strong and their ditches and moats secure. The rules of propriety and of what is right are regarded as the threads by which they seek to maintain in its correctness the relation between ruler and minister; in its generous regard that between father and son; in its harmony that between elder brother and younger; and in a community of sentiment that between husband and wife; and in accordance with them they frame buildings and measures; lay out the fields and hamlets (for the dwellings of the husbandmen); adjudge the superiority to men of valour and knowledge; and regulate their achievements with a view to their own advantage. Thus it is that (selfish) schemes and enterprises are constantly taking their rise, and recourse is had to arms; and thus it was (also) that Yu, Thang, Wan, and Wu, King Khâng, and the Duke of Kâu obtained their distinction. Of these six great men everyone was very attentive to the rules of propriety, thus to secure the display of righteousness, the realization of sincerity, the exhibition of errors, the exemplification of benevolence, and the discussion of courtesy, showing the people all the normal virtues. Any rulers who did not follow this course were driven away by those who possessed power and position, and all regarded them as pests. This is the period of what we call Small Tranquillity.”

  But whether past or future is intended, undoubtedly it is the “golden age,” or ideal state, which is meant. The open question as to whether the Grand Course is past or yet to come, is of course due to the ideographic form of the language; owing to his standing as a Confucian scholar, Dr. Chen is certainly entitled to have his interpretation preferred, if all else is equal.

  The statement concerning safeguarding the individuality of women would perhaps scarcely seem to warrant the notion that the idea of the family, upon which Confucius built his entire superstructure of personal and governmental relations, should be abandoned; Legge translated this, it should be noted, “Males had their proper work, and females had their homes.”

  [1 ]Mencius said of himself: “Although I could not be a disciple of Confucius myself, I have endeavoured to cultivate my virtue by means of others who were.” (Bk. iv., pt. ii., c. xxii., v. 2.)

  [1 ]I have been much concerned about the word which should be given for the Chinese word appearing here. Legge renders it “mean,” meaning thereby “average.” I discard his word as ambiguous and choose “ordinary” as nearest to the idea, which is “the average among men who are not superior.” This expression must not, however, be taken as a term describing the common people; as will be seen, Confucius reverenced them, as in our age did Abraham Lincoln.

• Back to Top

  2: Aeschylus, The Lyrical Dramas of Aeschylus [1906]

  Aeschylus, The Lyrical Dramas of Aeschylus, translated into English Verse by John Stuart Blackie (London: J.M. Dent, 1906).

  Accessed from oll.libertyfund.org/title/1039 on 2008-03-09

  The text is in the public domain.

  ---

  this is no. 62 ofEVERYMAN’S LIBRARY.the publishers will be pleased to send freely to all applicants a list of the published and projected volumes arranged under the following sections:

  travel ❦ science ❦ fiction theology ❦ philosophy history ❦ classical for young people essays ❦ oratory poetry & drama biography reference romance

  the ordinary edition is bound in cloth with gilt design and coloured top. there is also a library edition in reinforced cloth

  London: J. M. DENT & SONS Ltd. New York: E. P. DUTTON & CO.

  THE SAGES OF OLD LIVE AGAIN IN US GLANVILL

  EDITOR’S NOTE

  The following is a list of the chief English translators of Æschylus:—

  The Tragedies translated into English Verse; R. Potter, 1777, 1779.

  The Seven Tragedies literally translated into English Prose, from the Text of Blomfield and Schütz, 1822, 1827.

  Literal translation by T. A. Buckley, 1849.

  The Lyrical Dramas . . . into English Verse; J. S. Blackie, 1850: into English Prose, F. A. Paley, 1864, 1891; E. H. Plumptre, 1868, 1873; Anna Swanwick, 1873; from a revised Text, W. Headlam, 1900, etc.

  The Seven Plays in English Verse; L. Campbell, 1890.

  The Agamemnon was translated by Dean Milman, 1865; and “transcribed” by Robert Browning, 1877. A. W. Verrall’s edition of the text, with commentary and translation, appeared in 1889.

  The most important of the earlier editions of the text was that by Stanley; of the more recent, that by Schütz, Wellauer, and Hermann.

  PREFACE

  Some men of literary note, in the present day, observing the great difficulties with which poetical translators have to contend, especially when using a language of inferior compass, have been of opinion that the task ought not to be attempted at all—that all poetical translations, from Greek at least into English, should be done in prose; and, in confirmation of this opinion, they point to the English translation of the Hebrew Bible as a model. But if, as Southey says, “a translation is good precisely as it faithfully represents the matter, manner, and spirit of the original,”* it is difficult to see how this doctrine can be entertained. Poetry is distinguished from prose more by the manner than by the matter; and rhythmical regularity or verse is precisely that quality which distinguishes the manner of poetry from that of prose. In one sense, and in the best sense, Plato and Richter and Jeremy Taylor are poets; in another sense, and in the best sense, Æschylus and Dante and Shakespere are philosophers; but that which a poet as a poet has, and a philosopher as a philosopher has not, is verse; and this element the advocates of a prose translation of poetical works are content to miss out! That the argument from the English translation of the Bible is not applicable to every case, will appear plain to any one who will figure to himself Robert Burns or Horace or Beranger in a prose dress. In the Bible we seek for the simplicity of religious inculcation or devout meditation, and would consider the finest rhythmical decorations out of place. Besides, the style of the Hebrew poetry is eminently simple; and the rhythmical element of language, so far as I can learn, was never highly cultivated by the Jews, whose mission on earth was of a different kind. The Greeks, on the other hand, were eminently a poetical people; the poetry of their drama, though not without its own simplicity, is, in respect of mere linguistic organism, of a highly decorated order; and by nothing is that decoration so marked as by a systematic attention to rhythm. I consider, therefore, that prose translations of the Greek dramatists will never satisfy the just demands of a cultivated taste, for the plain reason that they omit that element which is most characteristic of the manner of the original.

  I am persuaded that the demand for prose translations of poets had arisen, in this country, more from a sort of desperate reaction against certain vicious principles of the old English school of translation, than from a serious consideration either of the nature of the thing, or of the capacity of our noble language. In Germany, I do not find that this notion has ever been entertained; plainly because the German poetical translations did not err, like our English ones, in conspiring, by every sort of fine flourishing and delicate furbishment, to obscure or to blot out what was most characteristic in their originals. The proper problem of an English translator is not how to say a thing as the author would have said it, had he been an Englishman; but how, through the medium of the English language, to make the English reader feel both what he said and how he said it, being a Greek. Now, any one who is familiar with the general run of English rhythmical translations, of which Pope’s Iliad is the pattern, must be aware that they have too often been executed under the influence of the former of these principles rather than the latter. In Pope’s Homer, and in Sotheby’s also, I must add, we find many, perhaps all the finest passages very finely done; but so as Pope or Sotheby might have done themselves in an original poem written at the present day, while that which is most peculiarly Homeric, a certain blunt naturalness and a talkative simplicity, we do not find in these translators at all. The very things which most strike the eye of the accomplished connoisseur, and feed the meditations of the student of human nature, are omitted.

  Now, I at once admit that a good prose translation—that is to say, a prose translation done by a poet or a man of poetical culture—of such an author as Homer, is preferable, for many purposes, to a poetical translation so elegantly defaced as that of Pope. A prose translation, also, of any poet, done accurately in a prosaic style by a proser, however much of a parody or a caricature in point of taste, may not be without its use, if in no other way, as a ready check on the free licence of omission or inoculation which rhythmical translators are so fond to usurp. But it is a mistake to suppose, because Pope, under the influence of Louis XIV. and Queen Anne, could not write a good poetical translation of Homer, that therefore such a work is beyond the compass of the English language.* I believe that, if Alfred Tennyson were to give the world a translation of the Iliad in the measure of Locksley Hall, he would cut Pope out of the market of the million, even at this eleventh hour. We are, in the present epoch of our literary history, arrived at a very favourable moment for producing good translations. A band of highly-original and richly-furnished minds has just left the stage, leaving us the legacy of a poetical language which, under their hand, received a degree of rhythmical culture, of which it had been before considered incapable. The example of the Germans, also, now no longer confined to the knowledge of a few, stands forth to show us how excellent poetical translations may be made, free, at least, from those faults from which we have suffered. There is no reason why we should despair of producing poetical versions of the Classics which shall be at once graceful as English compositions, and characteristic as productions of the Greek or Roman mind. I, for one, have already passed this judgment on my own attempt, that if I have failed in these pages to bring out what is Greek and what is Æschylean prominently, in combination with force, grace, and clearness of English expression, it is for lack of skill in the workman, not for want of edge in the tool.

  The next question that calls for answer is: it being admitted that a rhythmical translation of a Greek poem is preferable to a prose one, should we content ourselves with a blank rhythm (such as Shelley has used in Queen Mab, and Southey in Thalaba), or should we adopt also the sonorous ornament of rhyme. On this subject, when I first commenced this translation, about twelve years ago, I confess my feelings were strongly against the use of rhyme in translations from the antique; but experience and reflection have taught me considerably to modify, and, in some points of view, altogether to abandon this opinion. With regard to this matter, Southey has expressed himself thus:—“Rhyme is to passages of no inherent merit what rouge and candle-light are to ordinary faces. Merely ornamental passages, also, are aided by it, as foil sets off paste. But when there is either passion or power, the plainer and more straightforward the language can be made, the better.”† This is the lowest ground on which the plea for rhyme can be put; but even thus, it will be impossible for a discriminating translator to ward off its application to the Greek tragedy. In all poetry written for music, there will occur, even from the best poets, not a few passages on which the mere reader will pronounce, in the language of Horace, that they are comparatively

  “Inopes rerum nugaeque canorae.”

  With regard to the proper choral odes—the most difficult, and, in my view, the most important part of my task—I have allowed myself a licence, which some may think too large, but which, if I were to do the work over again, I scarcely think I should contract. In very few cases have I given anything like a curious imitation of the original; and, when I have done so—as in the Trochaic Chaunt of the Furies, Vol. I. p. 212, and in the Cretics mingled with Trochees, in the short ode of the Suppliants, Vol. II. p 107‡ —it was more to humour the whim of the moment than from any fixed principle. For, to speak truth, rhyming men will have their whim; and I do not think it politic or judicious to deprive the translator altogether of that rhythmical freedom which is the great delight of the original composer. But another, and the principal reason with me for not attempting a systematic imitation of the choral measures, was, that many of them failed to produce, on my ear, an intelligible musical effect, which I could set myself to reproduce; while, in other cases, though I clearly saw the rhythmical principle on which they were constructed (for I do not speak of the blind jargon of inherited metrical terminology), I saw with equal clearness that in our English poetry written to be read, systematic imitation of ancient metres written on musical principles, and with a view to musical exhibition, is, in the majority of cases, altogether absurd and impertinent. I confined myself, therefore, to the selection of such English metres as to my ear seemed most dramatically to represent the feeling of the original, making a marked contrast everywhere between the rhythmical movement of joy and sorrow, and always distinguishing carefully between what was piled up with a stable continuity of sublime emotion, and what was ejaculated in a hurried and broken style, where the Dochmiac verse prevails.*

  So much for metres With regard to the more strictly linguistic part of my task, I have only to say that I thought it proper to assume Wellauer’s cautiously edited text as a safe general foundation, with the liberty, of course, to deviate from it whenever I saw distinct and clearly made out grounds. The other editions, old and new, which I have used are enumerated in an Appendix at the end of the second volume. There also will be found those Commentaries and Translations which I have consulted on all the difficult passages; my obligations to which are, of course, great, and are here gratefully acknowledged. I desire specially to name, as having been of most service to me, Linwood, Peile, and Paley among the English; Wellauer, Welcker, Müller, and Schoemann among the German scholars. My manner of proceeding with previous English translations was to borrow from them an occasional phrase or hint, only after I had finished and carefully revised my own. But my obligations in respect of poetical diction to my fellow-labourers in the same field are very few, and are for the most part specially acknowledged.

  The introductory remarks to each play are intended to supply the English reader with that particular mythological or historical knowledge, and to inspire him with those Hellenic views and feelings, which are necessary to the enjoyment of the different dramas. The appended notes proceed on the principle, generally understood in this country, though apparently neglected in erudite Germany, that translations are made, not for the learned mainly, but for the unlearned. I have, therefore, not assumed even the most common points of mythological and antiquarian lore. Some of the notes, especially those on moral and religious points, have a higher view than mere explanation. They are intended to stir those human feelings, and suggest those trains of moral reflection without which the most profound scholarship issues only in a multitudinous cracking of empty nut-shells, and a ghastly exhibition of gilded bones. The few notes of a strictly hermeneutical character that are mingled with these, are mere jottings to preserve for my own use, and that of my fellow-students of the Greek text, the grounds of decision which have moved me in some of the more difficult passages, where I have either departed from Wellauer’s text, or where something appeared to lie in the various renderings fraught with a more than common poetical significance. In the general case, however, the translation must serve as its own commentary; and, though I do not pretend to have read every thing that has been written on the disputed passages of this most difficult, and, in many places, sadly corrupt author, I hope there is evidence enough in every page of my work to show that I have conscientiously grappled with all real difficulties in any way affecting the meaning of the text, and not leapt to a conclusion merely because it was the most obvious and most convenient one. If here and there I have made a rapid dash, a headlong plunge, or a bold sweep, beyond the rules of a strict philology, it was because these were the only tactics that the desperation of the case allowed.*

  In conclusion, I am glad to take this opportunity of publicly returning my thanks to two gentlemen of well-known literary taste and discernment, who took the trouble to read my sheets as they went through the press, and favour me with their valuable suggestions.

  ON THE GENIUS AND CHARACTER OF THE GREEK TRAGEDY

  “In der Beurtheilung des Hellenischen Alterthums soll der Scharfsinnige nicht aus sich herauszuspinnen suchen, was nur aus der Verbindung mannichfacher Ueberlieferungen gewonnen werden kann.”

  —Bockh.

  Let us inquire, therefore, setting aside alike Shaksperian examples and Aristotelian canons, what the τραγῳδία, or “tragedy,” was to the ancient Greeks. Nor have we far to seek. The name, when the modern paint is rubbed off, declares its own history; and we find that the main idea of the old word τραῳδία—as, by the way, the only idea of the modern word τραγουδι* —is a song. Of the second part of this word, we have preserved the root in our English words ode, melody, monody, thenody, and the other half of the word means goat; whether that descriptive addition to the principal substantive came from the circumstance that the song was originally sung by persons habited like goats,† or from other circumstances connected with the worship of Dionysus, to whom this animal was sacred, is of no importance for our present purpose. The main fact to which we have to direct attention, is that the word tragedy, when analysed, bears upon its face, and in the living Greek tongue proclaims loudly to the present hour, that the essential character of this species of poetry—when the name was originally given to it—was lyrical, and not at all dramatic or tragic, in the modern sense of these words. A drama, in modern language, means an action represented by acting persons; and a tragedy is such a represented action, having a sad issue; but neither of these elements belonged to the original Greek tragedy, as inherited from his rude predecessors by Æschylus, nor (as we shall immediately show) do they form the prominent or characteristic part of that exhibition, as transmitted by him to his successors. With regard to the origin of the Greek “goat-song,” and its condition previous to the age of Æschylus, there is but one uncontradicted voice of tradition on the subject; the curious discussions and investigations of the learned affecting only certain minute points of detail in the progress, which have no interest for the general student. That tradition is to the effect that the Greek lyrical drama, as we find it in the extant works of Æschylus, arose out of the Dithyrambic hymns sung at the sacred festivals of the ancient Hellenes in honour of their god Dionysus, or, as he is vulgarly called, Bacchus; hymns which were first extemporized under the influence of the stimulating juice of the grape,* and then sung by a regularly trained Chorus, under the direction of the famous Methymnean minstrel, Arion.† The simplest form which such hymns, under such conditions, could assume, was that of a circular dance by a band of choristers round the statue or the altar of the god in whose honour the hymn was sung. This is not a matter peculiar to Greece, but to be found at all times, and all over the world, wherever there are men who are not mere brutes. So in the description of the religious practices of the ancient Mexicans, our erudite poet Southey has the following beautiful passage, picturing a sacred choral dance round the altar of sacrifice:—

  • Round the choral band
  • The circling nobles gay, with gorgeous plumes,
  • And gems which sparkled to the midnight fire,
  • Moved in the solemn dance, each in his hand,
  • In measured movements, lifts the feathery shield,
  • And shakes a rattling ball to measured sounds;
  • With quicker steps, the inferior chiefs without,
  • Equal in number, but in just array,
  • The spreading radii of the mystic wheel
  • Revolved; and outermost, the youths roll round,
  • In motions rapid as their quickened blood.

  The academic student, who is familiar with these matters, is aware that what has been here constructed hypothetically, as a natural result of the circumstances, is the real historical account of the origin and progress of the Greek tragedy, as it is shortly given in a well-known passage of Diogenes Laertius. “In the oldest times,” says that biographer of the philosophers, “the Chorus alone went through the dramatic exhibition (διεδραματ[Editor: illegible character]ζεν) in tragedy; afterwards Thespis, to give rest to the Chorus, added one actor distinct from the singers; then Æschylus added a second, and Sophocles a third; which gave to tragedy its complete development.”* The reason mentioned here for the addition of the first actor by Thespis, is a very probable one. The convenience or ease of the singers contributed, along with the lively wit of the Greeks, and a due regard for the entertainment of the spectators, to raise the dramatized ode, step by step, into the lyrical drama.

  In the above account, two secondary circumstances connected with this transition, have not been mentioned The first is, that the jocund and sometimes boisterous hymn, in honour of the wine-god, should have passed into the lyrical representation of an action generally not at all connected with the worship or history of that divinity; and, secondly, that this action should have changed its tone from light to grave, from jocular to sad, and become, in fact, what we, in the popular language of modern times, call tragic. Now, for the first of these circumstances, I know nothing that can be said in the way of historical philosophy, except that man is fond of variety, that the Greek genius was fertile, and that accident often plays strange tricks with the usages and institutions of mortal men. For the other point, there can be no doubt that the worship of the god of physical and animal joy, being violent in its character, had its ebb as well as its flow, its broad-gleaming sunshine not without the cloud, its wail as well as its rejoicing. Whether Dionysus meant the sun, or only wine, which is the produce of the solar heat, or both, it is plain that his worshippers would have to lament his departure, at least as often as they hailed his advent; and, in this natural alternation, a foundation was laid for the separation of the original Dithyrambic Chorus into a wild, sportive element, represented by the Aristophanic comedy, and a deeply serious, meditative element represented by tragedy But we must beware, in reference to Æschylus at least, of supposing that the lyrical drama, as exhibited by him, however solemn and awe-inspiring, was necessarily sad, or, as we say, tragic in its issue. Aristotle indeed, in his famous treatise, lays down the doctrine that the main object of tragic composition is to excite pity and terror, and that Euripides, “though in other respects he manages badly, is in this respect the most tragic of the tragedians, that the most of his pieces end unfortunately.”* But there is not the slightest reason, in the nature of things, why a solemn dramatic representation, any more than a high-toned epical narrative, should end unfortunately. The Hindoo drama, for one, never does;† and, in the case of our poet, it is plain that the great trilogy, of which the Orestes is the middle piece, is constructed upon the principle of leading the sympathizing spectator through scenes of pity and terror, as stations in a journey, but finally to a goal of moral peace and harmonious reconciliation. That the great trilogy of the Prometheus, of which only one part remains, had an equally fortunate termination, is not to be doubted. Here, therefore, we see another impertinence in that modern word tragedy, which, in the superscriptions of these plays, I have been so careful to eschew.

  We shall now examine one or two of the Æschylean pieces by a simple arithmetical process, and see how essentially the lyrical element predominates in their construction. Taking Wellauer’s edition, and turning up the Suppliants, I find that that play, consisting altogether of 1055 lines, is opened by a continuous lyric strain of 172 lines. Then we have dialogue, in part of which the Chorus uses lyric measures to the extent of 22 lines Then follows a short choral song of only 20 lines. The next Chorus comprises 76 lines, and the next 70. After this follows another dialogue, in which the Chorus, being in great mental agitation, use, according to the uniform practice of Æschylus, lyric measures to the extent altogether of 20 verses. Then follows another regular choral hymn of 47 lines. After that a violent lyrical altercation between the Chorus and a new actor, to the amount of 74 lines, in the most impassioned lyrical rhythm. Then follow 14 lines of anapæsts; and the whole concludes with a grand lyrical finale of 65 lines: altogether 580—considerably more than the half of the piece by bare arithmetic, and equal to two-thirds of it fully, if we consider how much more time the singing, with the musical accompaniments, must have occupied than the simple declamation. No more distinct proof could be required how essentially the account of Diogenes Laertius is right; how true it is that the choral part of the Æschylean drama is both its body and its soul, while the dialogic part, to use the technical language of Aristotle’s days, was, in fact, only an ἐπεισόδιον (from which our English word Episode) or thing thrown in between the main choral acts of the representation, for the sake of variety to the spectators, and, as the writer says, of rest to the singers. We thus see, also, what an incorrect and indefinite idea of the Æschylean drama Aristotle had when he says—so far as we can gather his meaning—that “Æschylus first added a second actor; he also abridged the chorus, and made the dialogue the principal part of tragedy.”* The last article, so far as the play of the Suppliants is concerned, is simply not true. Let us make trial of another play. The Agamemnon, which, for many reasons, is one of the best for testing the mature genius of the bard, contains about 1600 lines; and, without troubling the reader with details, it will be found that about the half of this number is written in lyric measures. When we consider, further, that the most splendid imaginative pictures, and the wildest bursts of passion, all the interest, the doubt, and the anxiety, the fear, the terror, the surprise, and the final issue, are, according to the practice of Æschylus, regularly thrown into lyric measures, we shall be convinced that Aristotle (if we rightly apprehend him) was altogether mistaken when he led the moderns to imagine that the father of tragedy had really given such a preponderance to the dialogic element, that the lyric part is to be looked on, in his productions, as in any way subordinate. Unless it be the Prometheus, I do not know a single extant play of Æschylus in which the lyric element occupies a position which, in actual representation, would justify the dictum of the Stagyrite. And even in this play, let it be observed, how grandly the poet makes his anapæsts swell and billow with sonorous thunder in the finale; as if to make amends for the somewhat prolix epic recitals with which he had occupied the spectator, and to prove that a Greek tragedy could never be true to itself, unless it left upon the ear, in its last echoes, the permanent impression of its original character as a Song

  Three observations strike me, that may conveniently be stated as corollaries from the above remarks. First, That those translators have erred who, whether from carelessness, or from ignorance, or from a desire to accommodate the ancient tragedy as much as possible to the modern, have given an undue predominance to blank verse in their versions, making it appear as if the spoken part of the Æschylean tragedy bore a much larger proportion, than it really does, to the sung. Second, Those critics have erred who, applying the principles of modern theatrical criticism to the chaunted parts of the ancient lyrical drama, have found many parts dull or wearisome, extravagant, and even ridiculous, which, there can be no doubt, with their proper musical accompaniment, were the most impressive, and the most popular parts of the representation. Third, We err altogether, when we judge of the excellence of an ancient Greek drama as a composition, by its effect on us when reading it. The Suppliants, for instance, is generally considered a stupid play; because it wants grand contrasts of character and striking dramatic situations, and contains so much of mere reiterated supplication. But this reiteration, though wearisome to us who read the text-book of the lost opera, was, in all probability, that on which the ravished ears of the devout ancient auditors dwelt with most voluptuous delight. In general, without re-creating some musical accompaniment, and dwelling with ear and heart on the frequent variations of the lyric burden of the piece, a man is utterly incapable of passing any sane judgment on an Æschylean drama. Such a piece may contain in abundance everything that the auditors desired and enjoyed, and yet be very stupid now to us who merely read and criticise.

  The fact of the matter is, that the marshalled band of singers, however satisfactory to an ancient audience, who looked principally for musical excitement in their tragedies, and not for an interesting plot, was not at all calculated for allowing a dramatic genius to bring out those tragic situations in which the modern reader delights; but rather stood directly in the way of such an effect The fine development of character under the influence of various delicate situations, and in collision with different persons, all acting their part in some complex knot of various-coloured life, could not be exhibited in a performance where a band of singers on whom the eye of the spectators principally rested, and who formed the great attraction for the masses,* constantly occupied the central ground, and constantly interfered with every thing that was either said or done, whether it was convenient for them to do so or not. For a perfect tragedy, as conceived scientifically by Aristotle, and executed with a grand practical instinct by Shakespere, the Chorus was, in the very nature of the thing, an incumbrance and an impediment. It was only very seldom that the persons of that body could form such an important part of the action, and come forward with such a startling dramatic effect as in the Eumenides. Too often they were obliged to hang round the action as an atmosphere, or look at it as spectators; spectators either impartial altogether, and then too wise for dramatic sympathy, or half-partial, and then, by indecision of utterance, often making themselves ridiculous, as in a noted scene of the Agamemnon (Vol I p. 79), or contemptible, as in the Antigone* The proper position of the Chorus in a regularly constructed drama, is, like the witches in Macbeth, to form a mysterious musical background (not a fore-ground, as in the Greek tragedy), or to circle, as in the opera of Masaniello, the principal character with a band of associates naturally situated to assist and cheer him on to his grand enterprise. But the Greek Chorus, even in the time of Sophocles and Euripides, who enlarged the spoken part, was too independent, too stationary, too central a nucleus of the representation, not to impede the movements of the acting persons who performed the principal parts. As a form of art, therefore, the Greek tragedy, so soon as it attempted to assume the scientific ground so acutely seized on by the subtle analysis of Aristotle, was necessarily clumsy and incongruous. The lyric element, which was always the most popular element, refused to be incorporated with the acting element, and yet could not be altogether displaced, a position of scenic affairs which has strangely perplexed not a few modern critics, looking for a dramatic plot with all the dramatic proprieties in a composition where the old Hellenic spectator only felt a hymn to Jove; and curiously tasking their wits to find excuses for a poet like Euripides, who, with blossoming lyrics and sonorous rhetoric, might gain the prize of the “goat-song,” even over the head of a Sophocles, and yet, in point of dramatic propriety, as we demand it in our modern plays, be constantly perpetrating enormities which a clever schoolboy at Westminster or Eton might avoid.†

  So much for the artistic form of the Æschylean drama. As for the matter, it was essentially a combination of mythologial, legendary, and devotional elements, such as naturally belonged to a people whose religion was intimately blended with every passion of the human heart, and every chance of human life, and whose gods were only a sort of glorified men, as their men sometimes were nothing less than mortal gods The Greek lyrical dramas were part of the great public exhibitions at the great feasts of Bacchus, which took place, some in the winter season, and some in the spring of the year;* and in this respect they bear a striking resemblance both to the Hindoo dramas (for which see Wilson), to the so-called mysteries and moralities of mediæval piety, and to the sacred dramas of Metastasio, exhibited to the court at Vienna. And what sort of an aspect does ancient polytheistic piety present, what sort of an attitude does it maintain, in these compositions? An aspect surprisingly fair, considering what motley confusion it sprang from, an attitude singularly noble, seeing how nearly it was allied to mere animal enjoyment, and how prone was its degeneration into the mire of the grossest sensuality. The pictured pages of Livy, and brazen tablets of the grave Roman senate still extant, tell only too true a tale into what a fearful mire of brutishness the fervent worship of Dionysus might plunge its votaries. And yet out of this Bacchantic worship, so wild, so animal, and so sensual, arose the Greek tragedy, confessedly amongst the most high-toned moral compositions that the history of literature knows. Our modern Puritans, who look upon the door of a theatre (according to the phrase of a famous Edinburgh preacher) as the gate of hell, might take any one of these seven plays which are here presented in an English dress, and with the simple substitution of a few Bible designations for Heathen ones, find, so far as moral and religious doctrine is concerned, that, with the smallest possible exercise of the pruning-knife, they might be exhibited in a Christian Church, and be made to subserve the purposes of practical piety, as usefully as many a sermon The following passage from the Agamemnon is not a solitary gem from a heap of rubbish, but the very soul and significance of the Æschylean drama:—

  • “For Jove doth teach men wisdom, sternly wins
  • To virtue by the tutoring of their sins;
  • Yea! drops of torturing recollection chill
  • The sleeper’s heart; ’gainst man’s rebellious will
  • Jove works the wise remorse:
  • Dread Powers, on awful seats enthroned, compel
  • Our hearts with gracious force.”

  The only serious charge that, to my knowledge, has ever been made against the morality of the Greek drama, is that in it “an innocent person, one in the main of a virtuous character, through no crime of his own, nay not by the vices of others, but through mere Fatality and Blind Chance, is involved in the greatest of all human miseries.” This is the critical judgment of Dr. Blair (lecture xlvi.) in reference to the famous Labdacidan story of Œdipus.* Now, though the personal history of Œdipus contains many incidents that expose it justly to criticism, especially when brought upon the stage in a modernized dress by modern French or other poets (which abuse the learned Doctor no doubt had principally in view); yet, as applied to the whole Labdacidan story, or to the subjects of the Greek drama generally, the allegation is either extremely shallow, or altogether false, There is no destiny or fatality of any kind in the Æschylean drama, other than that which, according to the Mosaic record, drove Adam out of Paradise; that destiny which a divine decree, seeing the end in the beginning, has prepared, and that fatality which makes a guilty man not merely the necessary architect of his own misery, but the propagator of a moral contagion, more or less, to the offspring that inherits his pollution and his curse. On this subject I need make no lengthened observations here, as I have brought it and other points of moral and religious feeling prominently forward, both in the introductory observations to the separate plays, and in various places of the notes. I shall only say that the reader who does not find a high moral purpose and a deep religious meaning in the specimens of ancient Greek worship now submitted to his inspection, has no eye for what is best in these pages, and had better throw the book down. The Germans, who look deeper into these matters than we have either time, inclination, or, in the general case, capacity to do, have written volumes on the subject.† To me it has seemed more suitable to the genius of the English reader merely to hint the existence of this rich mine of moral wealth, leaving to the quiet thinker where, amid our various political and ecclesiastical clamour, he may have found a corner, to work out the vein with devout spade and mattock for himself.

  A few words must now be said on the Dance, as an essential part of the lyrical element of the Greek tragedy. Our sober British, stern Protestant, and precise Presbyterian notions, make it very difficult for us to realize this peculiarity. Even the old Heathen Roman could say, “Nemo fere saltat sobrius, nisi forte insanit”;* much more must it be hard for a modern Presbyterian Christian to recognise, in the twinkling-footed celerity of the merry dance, an exercise which a pious old Dorian could look upon as an indispensable part of an act of public worship. To read the weighty moral sentences of a solemn Æschylean Chorus, and then figure to ourselves their author as a dancing-master, is an unnatural and almost painful transition of thought to a Christian man in these times; and yet Athenæus tells us, that the author of the Prometheus really was a professor of the orchestric art, and a very cunning one too.† The fundamental truth of the case is, that the religion of the Greeks was not, like ours, a religion only of moral emotions and theological principles, but a religion of the whole man, with rather too decided a tendency, in some parts, it must be confessed, towards a disturbance of the equipoise on the side of the senses. But, whatever may be thought of Bacchic orgies and other associate rites, with regard to dancing, there is plainly nothing in the exercise, when decorously conducted, inconsistent either with dignity, or with piety; and the feelings of ancient Romans and modern Presbyterians on the subject, must be regarded as the mere products of arbitrary association. Certain it is, that all the Greek philosophers looked upon dancing as an essential element, not only in the education of a gentleman, but in the performance of public worship; nay, even among the severe Jews, we read that David, on occasion of a great religious festival, danced before the Lord; and only an idle woman called him an idle fellow for doing so. We need not be surprised, therefore, if among the merry Greeks, professing a religion fully as much of physical enjoyment as of moral culture, orchestric evolutions, along with sacred hymns, formed an essential part of the tragic exhibitions belonging to the feasts of the great god Dionysus. On the details of this matter, we are sadly wanting in satisfactory information; but that the fact was so, there can be no doubt.‡ The only point with regard to which there is room for a serious difference of opinion is, whether every performance of the Chorus in full band included dancing, or whether it was only introduced occasionally, as the ballet in our modern operas. On this point, the greatest authority in Greek Literature at present living has declared strongly in favour of the latter view; and, in doing so, he has been followed by one of the first philologers of our own country;* and as I have not been led, in the course of my studies, to make any particular examination of this subject, I am loath to contradict anything proceeding from such an authoritative quarter. One great branch of the evidence, I presume, on which this view is supported, lies in the words of the old Scholiast to the choral chaunt in the Phœnissae of Euripides, beginning with these words, Τύριον διδμα λιπονˆ[Editor: illegible character] ἒβαν. “This chaunt,” says the annotator, “is what is called a στάσιμον, or standing chorus; for when the Chorus, after the πάροδος, remaining motionless, sings a hymn arising out of the subject of the play, this song is called a στάσιμον. A πάροδος, on the other hand, is a song sung as they are marching into the orchestra on the first entrance.”† Now, no doubt, if this matter be taken with a literal exactitude, the expression, ἀκίνητος, or without moving, will exclude dancing; but if we merely take it generally, as opposed to the great sweeping evolutions of the Chorus, and as implying only a permanent occupation of the same ground in the centre of the orchestra, by the band, as a whole, while the individual members might change their places in the most graceful and beautiful variety of forms, we are thus saved from the harshness of giving to the orchestric element, in many plays, a subordinate position, equally at variance with the original character of the Chorus, and with the place which the dance held as a prominent part of Greek social life‡ With regard to Æschylus, in particular, I do not see how I should be acting in consistency with the testimony of Athenæus just quoted, if I were to assign such a small proportion of the choric performances to orchestric accompaniment, as Boeckh and Donaldson have done in their editions of the play of Sophocles, which the genius of Miss Faucit has rendered so dear to the friends of the drama in this country. It would be easy to show, from internal evidence such as Boeckh finds in what he calls the Orchestric Chorus, or ἐμμέλεια of the Antigone, that certain choruses of Æschylus are more adapted for violent and extensive orchestric movements than others. But I have thought it more prudent, considering the general uncertainty that surrounds this matter, not to make any allusion to dancing in any one performance of the Chorus more than another; contenting myself with carefully distinguishing everywhere between the anapæstic parts where the Chorus is plainly making extensive movements, and the Choral Hymn with regular Strophe and Antistrophe, which is sung when they are placed in their proper position in a square band round the Thymele (θυμέλη), or Bacchic altar, in the centre of the orchestra.*

  Having said so much with regard both to the form and substance of the lyric portion of the Æschylean drama, I have said almost all that I was anxious to say; for, in stating this matter clearly, I have brushed out of the way the principal part of that host of modern associations which is so apt to disturb our sympathetic enjoyment of the great masterpieces of Hellenic art. Anything that might be said in detail on the Iambic or dialogic part of ancient tragedy would only serve to set in a yet stronger light the grand fact which has been urged, that the strength of the Greek drama lies in the singing, and not in the acting. It were easy to show by an extensive analysis, that the classical “goat-singers” had but very imperfect notions on the subject of stage dialogue; and that it was a light thing for them to deal at large in mere epic description, or rhetorical declamation, without offending the taste of a fastidious audience, or sinning grossly against the understood laws of the sort of composition which they exhibited.† Notwithstanding Aristotle’s nicely-drawn distinction, the narrated, or purely epic parts of the Greek tragedy, are often the best This is the case not seldom even with Æschylus, whose native dramatic power the voice of a master has judged to be first-rate.‡ But with him the infant state of the art, and the insufficient supply of actors,§ combined with a radical faultiness of structure, produced, in not a few instances, the same anti-dramatic results as the want of dramatic genius in Euripides. Further, to use the language of Mr. Donaldson—“the narrowness and distance of the stage rendered any (free and complex) grouping unadvisable. The arrangement of the actors was that of a processional bas relief. Their movements were slow, their gesticulations abrupt and angular, and their delivery a sort of loud and deep-drawn sing-song, which resounded throughout the immense theatre. They probably neglected everything like by-play and making points, which are so effective on the English stage. The distance at which the spectators were placed would prevent them from seeing those little movements and hearing those low tones which have made the fortune of many a modern actor. The mask, too, precluded all attempts at varied expression, and it is probable that nothing more was expected from the performer than was looked for from his predecessor, the rhapsode—viz., good recitation.” These observations, flowing from a realization of the known circumstances of the case, will sufficiently explain to the modern reader the extreme stiffness and formality which distinguishes the tragic dialogue of the Greeks from that dexterous and various play of verbal interchange which delights us so much in Shakespere and the other masters of English tragedy. Every view, in short, that we can take, tends to fix our attention on the musical and the religious elements, as on the life-blood and vital soul of the Hellenic τραγῳδία; forces us to the conclusion that, with a due regard to organic principle, its proper designation is sacred opera,* and not tragedy, in the modern sense of the word at all; and leads us to look on the dramatic art altogether in the hands of Æschylus, not as an infant Hercules strangling serpents, but as a Titan, like his own Prometheus, chained to a rock, whom only, after many ages, a strong Saxon Shakespere could unbind.

  To conclude. If these observations shall seem to any conceived in a style too depreciatory of the masterpieces of Hellenic art, such persons will observe, that what has been here said of a negative character has reference only to the form of these productions as works of art, and not to their poetic contents. An unfortunate external arrangement is often, as in the case of the German writer Richter, united in intimate amalgamation with the richest and most exuberant energy of intellectual and moral life. However imperfect the Greek “tragedies” are as forms of artistic exhibition, they are not the less admirable, for the mass of healthy poetic life of which they are the embodiment, and the grand combination of artistic elements which they present As among the world’s notable men there are some who are great rather by a harmonious combination of the great healthy elements of humanity, than by the gigantic development of any one faculty, so in literature there are phenomena which must be measured by the mass of inward life which they concentrate, not by the structural perfection of form which they exhibit. The lyrical tragedy of the Greeks presents, in a combination elsewhere unexampled, the best elements of our serious drama, our opera, our oratorio, our public worship, and our festal recreations. The people who prepared and enjoyed such an intellectual banquet were not base-minded. Had their stability been equal to their susceptibility, the world had never seen their equal. As it is, they are like to remain for ages the great Hierophants of the intellectual world, whose influence will always be felt even by those who are ignorant or impudent enough to despise them; and among the various branches of art and science which owed a felicitous culture to their dexterous and subtle genius, there is certainly no phenomenon in the wide history of imaginative manifestation more imposing and more significant than that which bears on its face the signature of the rude god of wine, and his band of shaggy and goat-footed revellers.

  THE LIFE OF ÆSCHYLUS

  • τονˆτον τὸν βακχεɩ̂ον ἅνακτα.

  • —Aristophanes.

  • . . . personæ pallæque repertor honestæ.

  • —Horace

  After his death the Athenians testified their esteem for his character by decreeing—what was quite an extraordinary privilege according to their stage practice—that his dramas might be exhibited at the great Dionysiac festivals, when their author could be no longer a competitor for the prize* The people of Gela, justly proud that the bones of so great a man should repose in their soil, erected a monument to his memory with the following inscription:—

  • “Here Æschylus lies, from his Athenian home
  • Remote, ’neath Gola’s wheat-producing loam.
  • How brave in battle was Euphorion’s son
  • The long-haired Mede can tell that fled from Marathon.”

  With regard to the great merits of Æschylus both as a poet and as the creator of the tragic stage, there is but one testimony among the writers of antiquity. He not only introduced, as we have elsewhere stated, a second, and afterwards a third actor—without which there was no scope for the proper representation of an action—but he made the greatest improvements in the whole machinery and decorations of the stage, gave dignity to the actors by a minute attention to their masks, dresses, and buskins,† besides attending specially to the graceful culture of the dance, according to the testimony of Athenæus above quoted. As a dramatist he is distinguished by peculiar loftiness of conception and grandeur of phraseology. His style is sometimes harsh and abrupt, but it is always manly and vigorous; his metaphors are bold and striking, with something at times almost oriental in their cast; and, though not free from the offence of mixing incongruous metaphors—the natural sin of an imagination at once fearless and fertile—I do not think he can be fairly charged with turgidity and bombast; for, as Aristophanes remarks, in the Frogs, there is a superhuman grandeur about his characters which demands a more than common elevation of phrase.‡ As to the obscurity with which he has been charged, the comparative clearness of those plays which have been most frequently transcribed is a plain indication that this fault proceeds more from the carelessness of stupid copyists, than from confusion of thought or inadequate power of expression in the writer. In some cases, as in the prophecy of Calchas in the opening scene of the Agamemnon, the obscurity is studied and most appropriate Poetry, like painting, will have its shade. But the great excellence of Æschylus, as a poet, is the bracing tone of thorough manhood, noble morality, and profound piety which pervades his works Among those who are celebrated by Virgil as walking with Orpheus and Musæus in blissful Elysium—

  “Quique pii vates et Phoebo digna locuti,”

  • “Ὁι Τρώων μεν ὑπεξέϕυγον στονόεσσαν ἀυτὴν
  • Ἐν νόστῳ δ’ απόλοντο κακη̂ς ἰότητι γυναιλός”
  • “Greeks that ’scaped the Trojan war-cry, and the wailing battle-field,
  • But home returning basely perished by a wicked woman’s guile”

  • Homer,Odys. xi 383-4.

  PERSONS

  Watchman.

  Chorus of Argive Elders.

  Clytemnestra, Wife of Agamemnon.

  Herald.

  Agamemnon, King of Argos and Mycenæ.

  Cassandra, a Trojan Prophetess, Daughter of Priam.

  Ægisthus, Son of Thyestes.

  Scene—The Royal Palace in Arges.

  INTRODUCTORY REMARKS

  The last sentence of this curious notice contains the Epic germ of which the famous trilogy—the Agamemnon, the Choephorœ, and the Eumenides of Æschylus—the three plays contained in the present volume, present the dramatic expansion. The celebrity of the legends with regard to the return of the mighty Atridan arose naturally from the prominent situation in which he stood as the admiral of the famous thousand-masted fleet; and, besides, the passage from the old Troezenian minstrel just quoted, is sufficiently attested by various passages—some of considerable length—in the Odyssey, which will readily present themselves to the memory of those who are familiar with the productions of the great Ionic Epopœist. In the very opening of that poem, for instance, occur the following remarkable lines:—

  • “Strange, O strange, that mortal men immortal gods will still be blaming,
  • Saying that the source of evil lies with us; while they, in sooth,
  • More than Fate would have infatuate with sharp sorrows pierce themselves!
  • Thus even now Ægisthus, working sorrow more than Fate would have,
  • The Atridan’s wife hath wedded, and himself returning slain,
  • Knowing well the steep destruction that awaits him, for ourselves
  • Sent the sharp-eyed Argus-slayer, Hermes, to proclaim our will,
  • That nor him he dare to murder, nor his wedded wife to woo.
  • Thus spoke Hermes well and wisely; but thy reckless wit, Ægisthus,
  • Moved he not; full richly therefore now thy folly’s fine thou payest.”

  Agamemnon, the son, or, according to a less common account (for which see Schol. ad Iliad II. 249), the grandson of Atreus, being distinguished above the other Hellenic princes for wealth and power, was either by special election appointed, or by that sort of irregular kingship common among half-civilized nations, allowed to conduct the famous expedition against Troy that in early times foreshadowed the conquests of Alexander the Great, and the influence of the Greek language and letters in the East. Such a distant expedition as this, like the crusades in the middle ages, was not only a natural living Epos in itself, but would necessarily give rise to that intense glow of popular sympathy, and that excited state of the popular imagination, which enable the wandering poets of the people to make the best poetic use of the various dramatic incidents that the realities of a highly potentiated history present. Accordingly we find, in the very outset of the expedition, the fleet, storm-bound in the harbour of Aulis, opposite Eubœa, enabled to pursue its course, under good omens, only by the sacrifice of the fairest daughter of the chief. This event—a sad memorial of the barbarous practice of human sacrifice, even among the polished Greeks—formed the subject of a special play, perhaps a trilogic series of plays,* by Æschylus. This performance, however, has been unfortunately lost; and we can only imagine what it may have been by the description in the opening chorus of the present play, and by the beautiful, though certainly far from Æschylean, tragedy of Euripides. For our present purpose, it is sufficient to note that, in the Agamemnon, special reference is made to the sacrifice of Iphigenia, both as an unrighteous deed on the part of the father, for which some retribution was naturally to be expected, and as the origin of a special grudge in the mind of the mother, which she afterwards gratifies by the murder of her husband

  As to that deed of blood itself, and its special adaptation for dramatic purposes, there can be no doubt; as little that Æschylus has used his materials in the present play in a fashion that satisfies the highest demands both of lyric and dramatic poetry, as executed by the first masters of both. The calm majesty and modest dignity of the much-tried monarch; the cool self-possession, and the smooth front of specious politeness that mark the character of the royal murderess the obstreperous bullying of the cowardly braggart, who does the deed with his heart, not with his hand; the half-wild, half-tender ravings of the horror-haunted Trojan prophetess; these together contain a combination of highly wrought dramatic elements, such as is scarcely excelled even in the all-embracing pages of our own Shakespere As far removed from common-place are the lyrical—in Æschylus never the secondary—elements of the piece The sublime outbreak of Cassandra’s prophetic horror is, as the case demanded, made to exhibit itself as much under the lyric as in the declamatory form; while the other choral parts, remarkable for length and variety, are marked not only by that mighty power of intense moral feeling which is so peculiarly Æschylean, but by the pictorial beauty and dramatic reality that distinguish the workmanship of a great lyric master from that of the vulgar dealer in inflated sentiment and sonorous sentences.

  AGAMEMNON

  Watch.

  • I pray the gods a respite from these toils,
  • This long year’s watch that, dog-like, I have kept,
  • High on the Atridan’s battlements,1 beholding
  • The nightly council of the stars, the circling
  • Of the celestial signs, and those bright regents,
  • High-swung in ether, that bring mortal men
  • Summer and winter. Here I watch the torch,
  • The appointed flame that wings a voice from Troy,
  • Telling of capture; thus I serve her hopes,
  • The masculine-minded who is sovereign here2
  • And when night-wandering shades encompass round
  • My dew-sprent dreamless couch (for fear doth sit
  • In slumber’s chair, and holds my lids apart),
  • I chaunt some dolorous ditty, making song,
  • Sleep’s substitute, surgeon my nightly care,
  • And the misfortunes of this house I weep,
  • Not now, as erst, by prudent counsels swayed.
  • Oh! soon may the wished for sign relieve my toils,
  • Thrice-welcome herald, gleaming through the night!

  [The beacon is seen shining.]

  • All hail thou cresset of the dark! fair gleam
  • Of day through midnight shed, all hail! bright father
  • Of joy and dance, in Argos, hail! all hail!
  • Hillo! hilloa!
  • I will go tell the wife of Agamemnon
  • To shake dull sleep away, and lift high-voiced,3
  • The jubilant shout well-omened, to salute
  • This welcome beacon, if, indeed, old Troy
  • Hath fallen—as flames this courier torch to tell.
  • Myself will dance the prelude to this joy.
  • My master’s house hath had a lucky throw,
  • And thrice six falls to me,4 thanks to the flame!
  • Soon may he see his home; and soon may I
  • Carry my dear-loved master’s hand in mine!
  • The rest I whisper not, for on my tongue
  • Is laid a seal.5 These walls, if they could speak,
  • Would say strange things Myself to those that know
  • Am free of speech, to whoso knows not dumb.

  [Exit

  EnterChorusin procession. March time.

  Chorus.

  • Nine years have rolled, the tenth is rolling,
  • Since the strong Atridan pair,
  • Menelaus and Agamemnon,
  • Sceptied kings by Jove’s high grace,6
  • With a host of sworn alliance,
  • With a thousand triremes rare,
  • With a righteous strong defiance,
  • Sailed for Troy From furious breast
  • Loud they clanged the peal of battle;
  • Like the cry of vultures wild
  • O’er the lone paths fitful-wheeling,7
  • With their plumy oarage oaring
  • Over the nest by the spoiler spoiled,
  • The nest dispeopled now and bare,
  • Their long but fruitless care.
  • But the gods see it: some Apollo,
  • Pan or Jove, the wrong hath noted,
  • Heard the sharp and piercing cry
  • Of the startled birds, shrill-throated
  • Tenants of the sky;
  • And the late-chastising Fury8
  • Sent from above to track the spoiler,
  • Hovers vengeful nigh.
  • Thus great Jove, the high protector
  • Of the hospitable laws,9
  • ’Gainst Alexander sends the Atridans,
  • Harnessed in a woman’s cause,
  • The many-lorded fair.
  • Toils on toils shall come uncounted,
  • (Jove hath willed it so);
  • Limb-outwearying hard endeavour,
  • Where the strong knees press the dust,
  • Where the spear-shafts split and shiver,
  • Trojan and Greek shall know.
  • But things are as they are: the chain
  • Of Fate doth bind them; sighs are vain,
  • Tears, libations, fruitless flow,
  • To divert from purposed ire
  • The powers whose altars know no fire.10
  • But we behind that martial train
  • Inglorious left remain,
  • Old and frail, and feebly leaning
  • Strength as of childhood on a staff.
  • Yea! even as life’s first unripe marrow
  • In the tender bones are we,
  • From war’s harsh service free.
  • For hoary Eld, life’s leaf up-shrunken,
  • Totters, his three-footed way
  • Feebly feeling, weak as childhood,
  • Like a dream that walks by day.
  • But what is this? what wandering word,
  • Clytemnestra queen, hath reached thee?
  • What hast seen? or what hast heard
  • That from street to street swift flies
  • Thy word, commanding sacrifice?
  • All the altars of all the gods
  • That keep the city, gods supernal,
  • Gods Olympian, gods infernal,
  • Gods of the Forum, blaze with gifts;
  • Right and left the flame mounts high,
  • Spiring to the sky,
  • With the gentle soothings cherished
  • Of the oil that knows no malice,11
  • And the sacred cake that smokes
  • From the queen’s chamber in the palace.
  • What thou canst and may’st, declare,
  • Be the healer of the care
  • That bodes black harm within me; change it
  • To the bright and hopeful ray,
  • Which from the altar riseth, chasing
  • From the heart the sateless sorrow
  • That eats vexed life away.

  TheChorus,having now arranged themselves into a regular band in the middle of the Orchestra, sing the FirstChoral Hymn.

  • STROPHE.
  • I’ll voice the strain.12 What though the arm be weak
  • That once was strong,
  • The suasive breath of Heaven-sent memories stirs
  • The old man’s breast with song.
  • My age hath virtue left
  • To sing what fateful omens strangely beckoned
  • The twin kings to the fray,
  • What time to Troy concentuous marched
  • The embattled Greek array.
  • Jove’s swooping bird, king of all birds,* led on
  • The kings of the fleet with spear and vengeful hand:
  • By the way-side from shining seats serene,
  • Close by the palace, on the spear-hand seen,†
  • Two eagles flapped the air,
  • One black, the other silver-tipt behind,
  • And with keen talons seized a timorous hare,
  • Whose strength could run no more,
  • Itself, and the live burden which it bore.
  • Sing woe and well-a-day! But still
  • May the good omens shame the ill.
  • ANTISTROPHE.
  • The wise diviner of the host‡ beheld,
  • And knew the sign;
  • The hare-devouring birds with diverse wings
  • Typed the Atridan pair,
  • The diverse-minded kings,13
  • And thus the fate he chaunted:—Not in vain
  • Ye march this march to-day;
  • Old Troy shall surely fall, but not
  • Till moons on moons away
  • Have lingering rolled. Rich stores by labour massed
  • Clean-sweeping Fate shall plunder. Grant the gods,
  • While this strong bit for Troy we forge with gladness,
  • No heavenly might in jealous wrath o’ercast
  • Our mounting hope with sadness.
  • For the chaste Artemis§ a sore grudge nurses
  • Against the kings: Jove’s winged hounds she curses,14
  • The fierce war-birds that tore
  • The fearful hare, with the young brood it bore.
  • Sing woe and well-a-day! but still
  • May the good omens shame the ill.
  • EPODE.
  • The lion’s fresh-dropt younglings, and each whelp
  • That sucks wild milk, and through the forest roves,
  • Live not unfriended; them the fair goddess loves,15
  • And lends her ready help.
  • The vision of the birds shall work its end
  • In bliss, but dashed not lightly with black bane;*
  • I pray thee, Pæan, may she never send16
  • Contrarious blasts dark-lowering, to detain
  • The Argive fleet.
  • Ah! ne’er may she desire to feast her eyes
  • On an unblest unholy sacrifice,
  • From festal use abhorrent, mother of strife,
  • And sundering from her lawful lord the wife.†
  • Stern-purposed waits the child-avenging wrath17
  • About the fore-doomed halls,
  • Weaving dark wiles, while with sure-memoried sting
  • Fury to Fury calls.
  • Thus hymned the seer, the doom, in dubious chaunt
  • Bliss to the chiefs dark-mingling with the bane,
  • From the way-haunting birds; and we
  • Respondent to the strain,
  • Sing woe and well-a-day! but still
  • May the good omens shame the ill.
  • STROPHE I.
  • Jove, or what other name18
  • The god that reigns supreme delights to claim,
  • Him I invoke; him of all powers that be,
  • Alone I find,
  • Who from this bootless load of doubt can free
  • My labouring mind.
  • ANTISTROPHE I.
  • Who was so great of yore,
  • With all-defiant valour brimming o’er,19
  • Is mute; and who came next by a stronger arm
  • Thrice-vanquished fell;
  • But thou hymn victor Jove: so in thy heart
  • His truth shall dwell.
  • STROPHE II.
  • For Jove doth teach men wisdom, sternly wins
  • To virtue by the tutoring of their sins,
  • Yea! drops of torturing recollection chill
  • The sleeper’s heart, ’gainst man’s rebellious will
  • Jove works the wise remorse:
  • Dread Powers, on awful seats enthroned, compel
  • Our hearts with gracious force.20
  • ANTISTROPHE II.
  • The elder chief, the leader of the ships,
  • Heard the dire doom, nor dared to ope his lips
  • Against the seer, and feared alone to stand
  • ’Gainst buffeting fate, what time the Chalcian strand*
  • Saw the vexed Argive masts
  • In Aulis tides hoarse-refluent,21 idly chained
  • By the fierce Borean blasts;
  • STROPHE III.
  • Blasts from Strymon† adverse braying,
  • Harbour-vexing, ship-delaying,
  • Snapping cables, shattering oars,
  • Wasting time, consuming stores,
  • With vain-wandering expectation,
  • And with long-drawn slow vexation
  • Wasting Argive bloom.
  • At length the seer forth-clanged the doom,
  • A remedy strong to sway the breeze,
  • And direful Artemis to appease,
  • But to the chiefs severe:
  • The Atridans with their sceptres struck the ground,
  • Nor could restrain the tear.
  • ANTISTROPHE III.
  • Then spake the elder. To deny,
  • How hard! still harder to comply!
  • My daughter dear, my joy, my life,
  • To slay with sacrificial knife,
  • And with life’s purple-gushing tide,
  • Imbrue a father’s hand, beside
  • The altar of the gods.
  • This way or that is ill: for how
  • Shall I despise my federate vow?
  • How leave the ships? That all conspire
  • Thus hotly to desire
  • The virgin’s blood—wind-soothing sacrifice—
  • Is the gods’ right. So be it22
  • STROPHE IV.
  • Thus to necessity’s harsh yoke he bared
  • His patient neck. Unblissful blew the gale
  • That turned the father’s heart23
  • To horrid thoughts unholy, thoughts that dared
  • The extreme of daring. Sin from its primal spring
  • Mads the ill-counsell’d heart, and arms the hand
  • With reckless strength. Thus he
  • Gave his own daughter’s blood, his life, his joy,
  • To speed a woman’s war, and consecrate24
  • His ships for Troy.
  • ANTISTROPHE IV.
  • In vain with prayers, in vain she beats dull ears
  • With a father’s name; the war-delighting chiefs
  • Heed not her virgin years.
  • The father stood; and when the priests had prayed
  • Take her, he said; in her loose robes enfolden,
  • Where prone and spent she lies,25 so lift the maid.
  • Even as a kid is laid,
  • So lay her on the altar; with dumb force
  • Her beauteous* mouth gag, lest it breathe a voice
  • Of curse to Argos.
  • STROPHE V.
  • And as they led the maid, her saffron robe26
  • Sweeping the ground, with pity-moving dart
  • She smote each from her eye,
  • Even as a picture beautiful, fain to speak,
  • But could not. Well that voice they knew of yore;
  • Oft at her father’s festive board,
  • With gallant banqueters ringed cheerly round,
  • The virgin strain they heard27
  • That did so sweetly pour
  • Her father’s praise, whom Heaven had richly crowned
  • With bounty brimming o’er.
  • ANTISTROPHE V.
  • The rest I know not, nor will vainly pry;
  • But Calchas was a seer not wont to lie.
  • Justice doth wait to teach
  • Wisdom by suffering. Fate will have its way.
  • The quickest ear is pricked in vain to-day,
  • To catch to-morrow’s note. What boots
  • To forecast woe, which, on no wavering wing,28
  • The burthen’d hour shall bring.
  • But we, a chosen band,
  • Left here sole guardians of the Apian land,*
  • Pray Heaven, all good betide!

  EnterClytemnestra.

  Chorus.

  • Hail Clytemnestra! honour to thy sceptre!
  • When her lord’s throne is vacant, the wife claims
  • His honour meetly. Queen, if thou hast heard
  • Good news, or to the hope of good that shall be,
  • With festal sacrifice dost fill the city,
  • I fain would know; but nothing grudge thy silence.

  Clytem.

  • Bearing blithe tidings, saith the ancient saw,
  • Fair Morn be gendered from boon mother Night!
  • News thou shalt hear beyond thy topmost hope;
  • The Greeks have ta’en old Priam’s city.

  Chorus.

  • How!
  • Troy taken! the word drops from my faithless ear.

  Clytem.

  The Greeks have taken Troy. Can I speak plainer?

  Chorus.

  Joy o’er my heart creeps, and provokes the tear.

  Clytem.

  Thine eye accuses thee that thou art kind.

  Chorus.

  What warrant of such news? What certain sign?

  Clytem

  Both sign and seal, unless some god deceive me.

  Chorus.

  Dreams sometimes speak; did suasive visions move thee?

  Clytem.

  Where the soul sleeps, and the sense slumbers, there Shall the wise ask for reasons?

  Chorus.

  • Ever swift
  • Though wingless, Fame,29 with tidings fair hath cheered thee.

  Clytem

  Thou speak’st as one who mocks a simple girl.

  Chorus.

  Old Troy is taken? how?—when did it fall?

  Clytem.

  The self-same night that mothers this to-day.

  Chorus

  But how? what stalwart herald ran so fleetly?

  Clytem.

  • Hephæstus.* He from Ida shot the spark,30
  • And flaming straightway leapt the courier fire
  • From height to height; to the Hermæan rock
  • Of Lemnos, first from Ida; from the isle
  • The Athóan steep of mighty Jove received
  • The beaming beacon; thence the forward strength
  • Of the far-travelling lamp strode gallantly31
  • Athwart the broad sea’s back. The flaming pine
  • Rayed out a golden glory like the sun,
  • And winged the message to Macistus’ watch-tower.
  • There the wise watchman, guiltless of delay,
  • Lent to the sleepless courier further speed,
  • And the Messapian station hailed the torch
  • Far-beaming o’er the floods of the Eurípus.
  • There the grey heath lit the responsive fire,
  • Speeding the portioned message; waxing strong,
  • And nothing dulled across Asopus’ plain
  • The flame swift darted like the twinkling moon,
  • And on Cithæron’s rocky heights awaked
  • A new receiver of the wandering light.
  • The far-sent ray, by the faithful watch not spurned,
  • With bright addition journeying, bounded o’er
  • Gorgópus’ lake and Ægiplanctus’ mount,
  • Weaving the chain unbroken.32 Hence it spread
  • Not scant in strength, a mighty beard of flame,33
  • Flaring across the headlands that look down
  • On the Saronic gulf.34 Speeding its march,
  • It reached the neighbour-station of our city,
  • Arachne’s rocky steep; and thence the halls
  • Of the Atridæ recognised the signal,
  • Light not unfathered by Idæan fire.
  • Such the bright train of my torch-bearing heralds,
  • Each from the other fired with happy news,
  • And last and first was victor in the race35
  • Such the fair tidings that my lord hath sent,
  • A sign that Troy hath fallen.

  Chorus.

  • And for its fall
  • Our voice shall hymn the gods anon: meanwhile
  • I’m fain to drink more wonder from thy words.

  Clytem.

  • This day Troy fell. Methinks I see’t; a host
  • Of jarring voices stirs the startled city,
  • Like oil and acid, sounds that will not mingle,
  • By natural hatred sundered. Thou may’st hear
  • Shouts of the victor, with the dying groan,
  • Battling, and captives’ cry, upon the dead—
  • Fathers and mothers, brothers, sisters, wives—
  • The living fall—the young upon the old;
  • And from enthralléd necks wail out their woe
  • Fresh from the fight, through the dark night the spoilers
  • Tumultuous rush where hunger spurs them on,
  • To feast on banquets never spread for them.
  • The homes of captive Trojan chiefs they share
  • As chance decides the lodgment; there secure
  • From the cold night-dews and the biting frosts,
  • Beneath the lordly roof, to their hearts’ content36
  • They live, and through the watchless night prolong
  • Sound slumbers Happy if the native gods
  • They reverence, and the captured altars spare,37
  • Themselves not captive led by their own folly!
  • May no unbridled lust of unjust gain
  • Master their hearts, no reckless rash desire!
  • Much toil yet waits them. Having turned the goal,38
  • The course’s other half they must mete out,
  • Ere home receive them safe Their ships must brook
  • The chances of the sea; and, these being scaped,
  • If they have sinned39 the gods their own will claim,
  • And vengeance wakes till blood shall be atoned.
  • I am a woman; but mark thou well my words;
  • I hint the harm; but with no wavering scale,
  • Prevail the good! I thank the gods who gave me
  • Rich store of blessings, richly to enjoy.

  Chorus.

  • Woman, thou speakest wisely as a man,
  • And kindly as thyself. But having heard
  • The certain signs of Agamemnon’s coming,
  • Prepare we now to hymn the gods; for surely
  • With their strong help we have not toiled in vain.
  • • O regal Jove! O blessed Night!
    • Thou hast won thee rich adornments,
    • Thou hast spread thy shrouding meshes
    • O’er the towers of Priam Ruin
    • Whelms the young, the old. In vain
    • Shall they strive to o’erleap the snare,
    • And snap the bondsman’s galling chain,
    • In woe retrieveless lost.
    • Jove, I fear thee, just protector
    • Of the wrong’d host’s sacred rights;
    • Thou didst keep thy bow sure bent
    • ’Gainst Alexander; not before
    • The fate-predestined hour, and not
    • Beyond the stars, with idle aim,
    • Thy cunning shaft was shot.
  • CHORAL HYMN.
    STROPHE I.
  • The hand of Jove hath smote them; thou
  • May’st trace it plainly,
  • What the god willed, behold it now
  • Not purposed vainly!
  • The gods are blind,40 and little caring,
  • So one hath said, to mark the daring
  • Of men, whose graceless foot hath ridden
  • O’er things to human touch forbidden.
  • Godless who said so; sons shall rue
  • Their parents’ folly,
  • Who flushed with wealth, with insolence flown,
  • The sober bliss of man outgrown,
  • The trump of Mars unchastened blew,
  • And stirred red strife without the hue
  • Of justice wholly.
  • Live wiselier thou, not waxing gross
  • With gain, thou shalt be free from loss.
  • Weak is his tower, with pampering wealth
  • In brief alliance
  • Who spurns great Justice’ altar dread
  • With damned defiance,
  • Him the deep hell shall claim, and shame
  • His vain reliance.
  • ANTISTROPHE I.
  • Self-will fell Até’s daughter,41 still
  • Fore-counselling ruin,
  • Shall spur him on resistless borne
  • To his undoing.
  • Fined with sharp loss beyond repairing,
  • His misery like a beacon flaring,
  • Shall shine to all. Like evil brass,
  • That tested shows a coarse black mass,
  • His deep distemper he shall show
  • By dints of trial.
  • Even as a boy in wanton sport,42
  • Chasing a bird to his own hurt,
  • And to the state’s redeemless loss,
  • Whom, when he prays, the gods shall cross
  • With sheer denial,
  • And sweep the lewd and lawless liver
  • From earth’s fair memory for ever;
  • Thus to the Atridans’ palace came
  • False Alexander,
  • And shared the hospitable board,
  • A bold offender,
  • Filching his host’s fair wife away
  • To far Scamander.
  • STROPHE II.
  • She went, and to the Argive city left
  • Squadrons shield-bearing,
  • Battle preparing,
  • Swords many-flashing,
  • Oars many-plashing;
  • She went, destruction for her dowry bearing,
  • To the Sigean shore;
  • Light with swift foot she brushed the doorstead, daring
  • A deed undared before.
  • The prophets of the house loud wailing,43
  • Cried with sorrow unavailing,
  • “Woe to the Atridans! woe!
  • The lofty palaces fallen low!
  • The marriage and the marriage bed,
  • The steps once faithful, fond to follow
  • There where the faithful husband led!”
  • He silent stood in sadness, not in wrath,44
  • His own eye scarce believing,
  • As he followed her flight beyond the path
  • Of the sea-wave broadly heaving.
  • And phantoms sway each haunt well known,
  • Which the lost loved one wont to own,
  • And the statued forms that look from their seats
  • With a cold smile serenely,
  • He loathes to look on; in his eye
  • Pines Aphrodité* leanly.
  • ANTISTROPHE II.
  • In vain he sleeps; for in the fretful night
  • Shapes of fair seeming
  • Flit through his dreaming,
  • Soothing him sweetly,
  • Leaving him fleetly
  • Of bliss all barren. The shape fond fancy weaves him
  • His eager grasp would keep,
  • In vain; it cheats the hand; and leaves him, sweeping
  • Swift o’er the paths of sleep.
  • These sorrows pierce the Atridan chiefs,
  • And, worse than these, their private griefs,
  • But general Greece that to the fray
  • Sent her thousands, mourns to-day;
  • And Grief stout-hearted at each door
  • Sits to bear the burden sore
  • Of deathful news from the Trojan shore.
  • Ah! many an Argive heart to-day
  • Is pricked with wail and mourning,
  • Knowing how many went to Troy,
  • From Troy how few returning!
  • The mothers of each house shall wait
  • To greet their sons at every gate,
  • But, alas! not men, but dust of men
  • Each sorrowing house receiveth,
  • The urn in which the fleshly case
  • Its cindered ruin leaveth.
  • STROPHE III.
  • For Mars doth market bodies, and for gold
  • Gives dust, and in the battle of the bold
  • Holds the dread scales of Fate.
  • Burnt cinders, a light burden, but to friends
  • A heavy freight,
  • He sends from Troy; the beautiful vase he sends
  • With dust, for hearts, well lined, on which descends
  • The frequent tear.
  • And friends do wail their praise; this here
  • Expert to wield the pointed spear,
  • And this who cast his life away,
  • Nobly in ignoble fray,
  • For a strange woman’s sake.
  • And in their silent hearts hate burns;
  • Against the kings
  • The moody-muttered grudge creeps forth,
  • And points its stings.
  • Others they mourn who ’neath Troy’s wall
  • Entombed, dark sleep prolong,
  • Low pressed beneath the hostile sod,
  • The beautiful, the strong!
  • ANTISTROPHE III.
  • O hard to bear, when evil murmurs fly,
  • Is a nation’s hate; unblest on whom doth lie
  • A people’s curse!
  • My heart is dark, in my fear-procreant brain
  • Bad begets worse.
  • For not from heaven the gods behold in vain
  • Hands red with slaughter. The black-mantled train*
  • Who watch and wait,
  • In their own hour shall turn to bane
  • The bliss that grew from godless gain.
  • The mighty man with heart elate
  • Shall fall; even as the sightless shades,
  • The great man’s glory fades.
  • Sweet to the ear is the popular cheer
  • Forth billowed loudly;
  • But the bolt from on high shall blast his eye45
  • That looketh proudly.
  • Be mine the sober bliss, and far
  • From fortune’s high-strung rapture,
  • Not capturing others, may I never
  • See my own city’s capture!
  • EPODE.
  • Swift-winged with thrilling note it came,
  • The blithe news from the courier-flame;
  • But whether true and witnessed well,
  • Or if some god hath forged a lie,
  • What tongue can tell?
  • Who is so young, so green of wit,
  • That his heart should blaze with a fever fit,
  • At a tale of this fire-courier’s telling,
  • When a new rumour swiftly swelling,
  • May turn him back to dole? To lift the note
  • Of clamorous triumph ere the fight be fought,
  • Is a light chance may fitly fall,
  • Where women wield the spear.46
  • A wandering word by woman’s fond faith sped
  • Swells and increases,
  • But with dispersion swift a woman’s tale
  • Is lost and ceases.

  EnterClytemnestra.

  • Soon shall we know if the light-bearing lamps
  • And the bright signals of the fiery changes
  • Spake true or, dream-like, have deceived our sense
  • With smiling semblance. For, behold, where comes,
  • Beneath the outspread olive’s branchy shade,
  • A herald from the beach; and thirsty dust,
  • Twin-sister of the clay, attests his speed.
  • Not voiceless he, nor with the smoking flame
  • Of mountain pine will bring uncertain news.
  • His heraldry gives increase to our joy,
  • Or—but to speak ill-omened words I shun;—
  • May fair addition fair beginning follow!

  Chorus.

  • Whoso fears evil where no harm appears,
  • Reap first himself the fruit of his own fears.

  EnterHerald.

  • Hail Argive land! dear fatherland, all hail!
  • This tenth year’s light doth shine on my return!
  • And now this one heart’s hope from countless wrecks
  • I save! Scarce hoped I e’er to lay my bones
  • Within the tomb where dearest dust is stored.
  • I greet thee, native land! thee, shining sun!
  • Thee, the land’s Sovereign, Jove! thee, Pythian King,
  • Shooting no more thy swift-winged shafts against us.
  • Enough on red Scamander’s banks we knew
  • Thee hostile; now our saviour-god be thou,
  • Apollo, and our healer from much harm!47
  • And you, all gods that guide the chance of fight,
  • I here invoke; and thee, my high protector,
  • Loved Hermes, of all heralds most revered.
  • And you, all heroes that sent forth our hosts,
  • Bring back, I pray, our remnant with good omens.
  • O kingly halls! O venerated seats!
  • O dear-loved roofs, and ye sun-fronting gods,48
  • If ever erst, now on this happy day,
  • With these bright-beaming eyes, duly receive
  • Your late returning king; for Agamemnon
  • Comes, like the sun, a common joy to all.
  • Greet him with triumph, as beseems the man,
  • Who with the mattock of justice-bringing Jove
  • Hath dug the roots of Troy, hath made its altars
  • Things seen no more, its towering temples razed,
  • And caused the seed of the whole land to perish.
  • Such yoke on Ilium’s haughty neck the elder
  • Atridan threw, a king whom gods have blessed
  • And men revere, ’mongst mortals worthy most
  • Of honour; now nor Paris, nor in the bond
  • Partner’d with him, old Troy more crime may boast
  • Than penalty; duly in the court of fight,
  • In the just doom of rape and robbery damned,
  • His pledge is forfeited,49 his hand hath reaped
  • Clean bare the harvest of all bliss from Troy.
  • Doubly they suffer for a double crime.

  Chorus.

  Hail soldier herald, how farest thou?

  Herald.

  • Right well!
  • So well that I could bless the gods and die.

  Chorus.

  Doubtless thy love of country tried thy heart?

  Herald.

  To see these shores I weep for very joy.

  Chorus.

  And that soul-sickness sweetly held thee?

  Herald.

  • How?
  • Instruct my wit to comprehend thy words.

  Chorus.

  Smitten with love of them that much loved thee.

  Herald.

  Say’st thou? loved Argos us as we loved Argos?

  Chorus.

  Ofttimes we sorrowed from a sunless soul.

  Herald.

  • How so? Why should the thought of the host have clouded
  • Thy soul with sadness?

  Chorus.

  • Sorrow not causeless came;
  • But I have learned to drug all woes by silence.

  Herald.

  Whom should’st thou quail before, the chiefs away?

  Chorus.

  I could have used thy phrase, and wished to die.

  Herald.

  • Die now, an’ thou wilt, for joy! The rolling years
  • Have given all things a prosperous end, though some
  • Were hard to bear; for who, not being a god,
  • Can hope to live long years of bliss unbroken?
  • A weary tale it were to tell the tithe
  • Of all our hardships; toils by day, by night,
  • Harsh harbourage, hard hammocks, and scant sleep.
  • No sun without new troubles, and new groans,
  • Shone on our voyage; and when at length we landed,
  • Our woes were doubled; ’neath the hostile walls,
  • On marshy meads night-sprinkled by the dews,
  • We slept, our clothes rotted with drenching rain,
  • And like wild beasts with shaggy-knotted hair.
  • Why should I tell bird-killing winter’s sorrows,
  • Long months of suffering from Idéan snows,
  • Then summer’s scorching heat, when noon beheld
  • The waveless sea beneath the windless air
  • In sleep diffused; these toils have run their hour.
  • The dead care not to rise; their roll our grief
  • Would muster o’er in vain; and we who live
  • Vainly shall fret at the cross strokes of fate.
  • Henceforth to each harsh memory of the past
  • Farewell! we who survive this long-drawn war
  • Have gains to count that far outweigh the loss.
  • Well may we boast in the face of the shining sun,
  • O’er land and sea our winged tidings wafting,
  • The Achæan host hath captured Troy; and now
  • On the high temples of the gods we hang
  • These spoils, a shining grace, there to remain
  • An heritage for ever.50 These things to hear
  • Shall men rejoice, and with fair praises laud
  • The state and its great generals, laud the grace
  • Of Jove the Consummator. I have said.

  Chorus.

  • I own thy speech the conqueror; for a man
  • Can never be too old to learn good news,
  • And though thy words touch Clytemnestra most,
  • Joy to the Atridan’s halls is wealth to me.

  Clytem.

  • I lifted first the shout of jubilee,
  • Then when the midnight sign of the courier fire
  • Told the deep downfall of the captured Troy,
  • But one then mocked my faith, that I believed
  • The fire-sped message in so true a tale.
  • ’Tis a light thing to buoy a woman’s heart
  • With hopeful news, they cried; and with these words
  • They wildered my weak wit. And yet I sped
  • The sacrifice, and raised the welcoming shout
  • In woman’s wise, and at a woman’s word
  • Forthwith from street to street uprose to the gods
  • Well-omened salutations, and glad hymns,
  • Lulling the fragrant incense-feeding flame.
  • What needs there more? The event has proved me right,
  • Himself—my lord—with his own lips shall speak
  • The weighty tale; myself will go make ready
  • With well-earned honour to receive the honoured.
  • What brighter bliss on woman’s lot may beam,
  • Than when a god gives back her spouse from war,
  • To ope the gates of welcome. Tell my husband,
  • To his loved home, desired of all, to haste.
  • A faithful wife, even as he left her, here
  • He’ll find expectant, like a watch-dog, gentle
  • To him and his, to all that hate him harsh.
  • The seals that knew his stamp, when hence he sailed,
  • Unharmed remain, untouched: and for myself
  • Nor praise nor blame from other man I know,
  • No more than dyer’s art can tincture brass.51

  Herald.

  • A boast like this, instinct with very truth,
  • Comes from a noble lady without blame.

  Chorus.

  • Wise words she spake, and words that need no comment
  • To ears that understand. But say, good Herald,
  • Comes Menelaus safe back from the wars,
  • His kindly sway in Argos to resume?

  Herald.

  • I cannot gloss a lie with fair pretence;
  • The best told lie bears but a short-lived fruit.

  Chorus.

  • Speak the truth plainly, if thou canst not pleasantly;
  • These twain be seldom wedded; and here, alas!
  • They stand out sundered with too clear a mark.

  Herald

  • The man is vanished from the Achæan host,
  • He and his vessel. Thou hast heard the truth.

  Chorus.

  • Sailed he from Ilium separate from the fleet?
  • Or did the tempest part him from his friends!

  Herald.

  • Like a good marksman thou hast hit the mark,
  • In one short sentence summing many sorrows.

  Chorus.

  • Alive is he or dead? What word hath reached you?
  • What wandering rumour from sea-faring men?

  Herald.

  • This none can tell, save yon bright sun aloft,
  • That cherishes all things with his friendly light.

  Chorus.

  • How came the storm on the fleet? or how was ended
  • The wrath of the gods?

  Herald.

  • Not well it suits to blot
  • With black rehearsal this auspicious day.
  • Far from the honors of the blissful gods52
  • Be grief’s recital. When with gloomy visage
  • An ugly tale the herald’s voice unfolds,
  • At once a general wound, and private grief,
  • An army lost, the sons of countless houses
  • Death-doomed by the double scourge so dear to Ares,*
  • A twin-speared harm, a yoke of crimson slaughter:
  • A herald saddled with such woes may sing
  • A pæan to the Erinnyes. But I,
  • Who to this city blithe and prosperous
  • Brought the fair news of Agamemnon’s safety,
  • How shall I mingle bad with good, rehearsing
  • The wintry wrath sent by the gods to whelm us?
  • Fire and the sea, sworn enemies of old,53
  • Made friendly league to sweep the Achæan host
  • With swift destruction pitiless. Forth rushed
  • The tyrannous Thracian blasts, and wave chased wave,
  • Fierce ’neath the starless night, and ship on ship
  • Struck clashing; beak on butting beak was driven;
  • The puffing blast, the beat of boiling billows,
  • The whirling gulph (an evil pilot) wrapt them
  • In sightless death. And when the shining sun
  • Shone forth again, we see the Ægean tide
  • Strewn with the purple blossoms of the dead,
  • And wrecks of shattered ships. Us and our bark
  • Some god, no man, the storm-tost hull directing,
  • Hath rescued scathless, stealing us from the fray,
  • Or with a prayer begging our life from Fate.
  • Kind Fortune helmed us further, safely kept
  • From yeasty ferment in the billowy bay,
  • Nor dashed on far-ledged rocks. Thus having ’scaped
  • That ocean hell,54 scarce trusting our fair fortune,
  • We hailed the lucid day; but could we hope,
  • The chance that saved ourselves had saved our friends?
  • Our fearful hearts with thoughts of them we fed,
  • Far-labouring o’er the loosely-driving main.55
  • And doubtless they, if yet live breath they breathe,
  • Deem so of us, as we must fear of them,
  • That they have perished. But I hope the best.
  • And first and chief expect ye the return
  • Of Menelaus. If the sun’s blest ray
  • Yet looks on him, where he beholds the day
  • By Jove’s devising,56 not yet willing wholly
  • To uproot the race of Atreus, hope may be
  • He yet returns. Thou hast my tale; and I
  • Have told the truth untinctured with a lie.

  [Exit.

  • CHORAL HYMN.
    STROPHE I.
  • Who gave her a name
  • So true to her fame?
  • Does a Providence rule in the fate of a word?
  • Sways there in heaven a viewless power
  • O’er the chance of the tongue in the naming hour?
  • Who gave her a name,
  • This daughter of strife, this daughter of shame,
  • The spear-wooed maid of Greece?
  • Helen the taker!57 ’tis plain to see
  • A taker of ships, a taker of men,
  • A taker of cities is she.
  • From the soft-curtained chamber of Hymen she fled,
  • By the breath of giant58 Zephyr sped,
  • And shield-bearing throngs in marshalled array
  • Hounded her flight o’er the printless way,
  • Where the swift-plashing oar
  • The fair booty bore
  • To swirling Simois’ leafy shore,
  • And stirred the crimson fray.
  • ANTISTROPHE I.
  • For the gods sent a bride,
  • Kin but not kind,59
  • Ripe with the counsel of wrath to Troy,
  • In the fulness of years, the offender to prove,
  • And assert the justice of Jove;
  • For great Jove is lord
  • Of the rights of the hearth and the festal board.
  • The sons of Priam sang
  • A song to the praise of the bride:
  • From jubilant throats they praised her then,
  • The bride from Hellas brought;
  • But now the ancient city hath changed
  • Her hymn to a doleful note.
  • She weeps bitter tears; she curses the head
  • Of the woe-wedded Paris; she curses the bed
  • Of the beautiful bride
  • That crossed the flood,
  • And filched the life of her sons, and washed
  • Her wide-paved streets with blood.
  • STROPHE II.
  • Whoso nurseth the cub of a lion
  • Weaned from the dugs of its dam, where the draught
  • Of its mountain-milk was free,
  • Finds it gentle at first and tame.
  • It frisks with the children in innocent game,
  • And the old man smiles to see;
  • It is dandled about like a babe in the arm,
  • It licketh the hand that fears no harm,
  • And when hunger pinches its fretful maw,
  • It fawns with an eager glee.
  • ANTISTROPHE II.
  • But it grows with the years; and soon reveals
  • The fount of fierceness whence it came:
  • And, loathing the food of the tame,
  • It roams abroad, and feasts in the fold,
  • On feasts forbidden, and stains the floor
  • Of the house that nursed it with gore.
  • A curse they nursed for their own undoing,
  • A mouth by which their own friends shall perish;
  • A servant of Até, a priest of Ruin,60
  • Some god hath taught them to cherish.
  • STROPHE III.
  • Thus to Troy came a bride of the Spartan race,
  • With a beauty as bland as a windless calm,
  • Prosperity’s gentlest grace;
  • And mild was love’s blossom that rayed from her eye,
  • The soft-winged dart that with pleasing pain
  • Thrills heart and brain.
  • But anon she changed: herself fulfilled
  • Her wedlock’s bitter end;
  • A fatal sister, a fatal bride,
  • Her fateful head she rears;
  • Herself the Erinnys from Jove to avenge
  • The right of the injured host, and change
  • The bridal joy to tears.
  • ANTISTROPHE III.
  • ’Twas said of old, and ’tis said to-day,
  • That wealth to prosperous stature grown
  • Begets a birth of its own:
  • That a surfeit of evil by good is prepared,
  • And sons must bear what allotment of woe
  • Their sires were spared.
  • But this I rebel to believe: I know
  • That impious deeds conspire
  • To beget an offspring of impious deeds
  • Too like their ugly sire.
  • But whoso is just, though his wealth like a river
  • Flow down, shall be scathless his house shall rejoice
  • In an offspring of beauty for ever.
  • STROPHE IV.
  • The heart of the haughty delights to beget
  • A haughty heart.61 From time to time
  • In children’s children recurrent appears
  • The ancestral crime.
  • When the dark hour comes that the gods have decreed,
  • And the Fury burns with wrathful fires,
  • A demon unholy, with ire unabated,
  • Lies like black night on the halls of the fated:
  • And the recreant son plunges guiltily on
  • To perfect the guilt of his sires.
  • ANTISTROPHE IV.
  • But Justice shines in a lowly cell;
  • In the homes of poverty, smoke-begrimed,
  • With the sober-minded she loves to dwell.
  • But she turns aside
  • From the rich man’s house with averted eye,
  • The golden-fretted halls of pride
  • Where hands with lucre are foul, and the praise
  • Of counterfeit goodness smoothly sways:
  • And wisely she guides in the strong man’s despite
  • All things to an issue of right.

  Chorus.

  • But, hail the king! the city-taking
  • Seed of Atreus’ race.
  • How shall I accost thee! How
  • With beseeming reverence greet thee?
  • Nor above the mark, nor sinking
  • Beneath the line of grace?
  • Many of mortal men there be,
  • ’Gainst the rule of right preferring
  • Seeming to substance; tears are free
  • In the eye when woe its tale rehearseth,
  • But the sting of sorrow pierceth
  • No man’s liver; many force
  • Lack-laughter faces to relax
  • Into the soft lines traced by joy.
  • But the shepherd true and wise
  • Knows the faithless man, whose eyes,
  • With a forward friendship twinkling,
  • Fawn with watery love.62
  • For me, I nothing hide. O King,
  • In my fancy’s picturing,
  • From the Muses far I deemed thee,
  • And thy soul not wisely helming
  • When thou drew’st the knife
  • For Helen’s sake, a woman, whelming
  • Thousands in ruin, rushing rashly
  • On unwelcome strife.
  • But now all’s well. No shallow smiles
  • We wear for thee, thy weary toils
  • All finished. Thou shalt know anon
  • What friends do serve thee truly,
  • And who in thy long absence used
  • Their stewardship unduly.

  EnterAgamemnonwith attendants;Cassandrabehind.

  Aga.

  • First Argos hail! and ye, my country’s gods,
  • Who worked my safe return, and nerved my arm
  • With vengeance against Priam! for the gods,
  • Taught by no glozing tongue, but by the sight
  • Of their own eyes knew justice; voting ruin
  • And men-destroying death to ancient Troy,
  • Their fatal pebbles in the bloody urn
  • Not doubtingly they dropt; the other vase,
  • Unfed with hope of suffrage-bearing hand,
  • Stood empty. Now the captured city’s smoke
  • Points where it fell. Raves Ruin’s storm; the winds
  • With crumbled dust and dissipated gold
  • Float grossly laden. To the immortal gods
  • These thanks, fraught with rich memory of much good,
  • We pay; they taught our hands to spread the net
  • With anger-whetted wit, a woman’s frailty
  • Laid bare old Ilium to the Argive bite,
  • And with the setting Pleiads outleapt a birth
  • Of strong shield-bearers from the fateful horse.
  • A fierce flesh-tearing lion leapt their walls,
  • And licked a surfeit of tyrannic blood.
  • This prelude to the gods. As for thy words
  • Of friendly welcome, I return thy greeting,
  • And as your thought, so mine; for few are gifted
  • With such rich store of love, to see a friend
  • Preferred and feel no envy; ’tis a disease
  • Possessing mortal men, a poison lodged
  • Close by the heart, eating all joy away
  • With double barb—his own mischance who suffers
  • And bliss of others sitting at his gate,
  • Which when he sees he groans. I know it well;
  • They who seemed most my friends, and many seemed,
  • Were but the mirrored show, the shadowy ghost
  • Of something like to friendship, substanceless.
  • Ulysses only, most averse to sail,
  • Was still most ready in the yoke with me
  • To bear the harness; living now or dead,
  • This praise I frankly give him. For the rest,
  • The city and the gods, we will take counsel
  • In full assembly freely. What is good
  • We will give heed that it be lasting; where
  • Disease the cutting or the caustic cure
  • Demands, we will apply it. I, meanwhile,
  • My hearth and home salute, and greet the gods,
  • Who, as they sent me to the distant fray,
  • Have brought me safely back. Fair victory,
  • Once mine, may she dwell with me evermore!

  Clytem.

  • Men! Citizens! ye reverend Argive seniors,
  • No shame feel I, even in your face, to tell
  • My husband-loving ways. Long converse lends
  • Boldness to bashfulness. No foreign griefs,
  • Mine own self-suffered woes I tell. While he
  • Was camping far at Ilium, I at home
  • Sat all forlorn, uncherished by the mate
  • Whom I had chosen; this was woe enough
  • Without enforcement; but, to try me further,
  • A host of jarring rumours stormed my doors,
  • Each fresh recital with a murkier hue
  • Than its precedent; and I must hear all.
  • If this my lord, had borne as many wounds
  • In battle as the bloody fame recounted,
  • He had been pierced throughout even as a net;
  • And had he died as oft as Rumour slew him,
  • He might have boasted of a triple coil63
  • Like the three-bodied Geryon, while on earth
  • (Of him below I speak not), and like him
  • Been three times heaped with a cloak of funeral dust.
  • Thus fretted by cross-grained reports, oft-times
  • The knotted rope high-swung had held my neck,
  • But that my friends with forceful aid prevented.
  • Add that my son, pledge of our mutual vows,
  • Orestes is not here; nor think it strange.
  • Thy Phocian spear-guest,64 the most trusty Strophius,
  • Took him in charge, a twofold danger urging
  • First thine beneath the walls of Troy, and further
  • The evil likelihood that, should the Greeks
  • Be worsted in the strife, at home the voice
  • Of many-babbling anarchy might cast
  • The council down, and as man’s baseness is,
  • At fallen greatness insolently spurn.
  • Moved by these thoughts I parted with my boy,
  • And for no other cause. Myself the while
  • So woe-worn lived, the fountains of my grief
  • To their last drop were with much weeping drained;
  • And far into the night my watch I’ve kept
  • With weary eyes, while in my lonely room
  • The night-torch faintly glimmered. In my dream
  • The buzzing gnat, with its light-brushing wing,
  • Startled the fretful sleeper; thou hast been
  • In waking hours, as in sleep’s fitful turns
  • My only thought. But having bravely borne
  • This weight of woe, now with blithe heart I greet
  • Thee, my heart’s lord, the watch-dog of the fold,
  • The ship’s sure mainstay, pillared shaft whereon
  • Rests the high roof, fond parent’s only child,
  • Land seen by sailors past all hope, a day
  • Lovely to look on when the storm hath broken,
  • And to the thirsty wayfarer the flow
  • Of gushing rill. O sweet it is, how sweet
  • To see an end of the harsh yoke that galled us!
  • These greetings to my lord; nor grudge me, friends,
  • This breadth of welcome; sorrows we have known
  • Ample enough. And now, thou precious head,
  • Come from thy car, nay, do not set thy foot,
  • The foot that trampled Troy, on common clay.
  • What ho! ye laggard maids! why lags your task
  • Behind the hour? Spread purple where he treads.
  • Fitly the broidered foot-cloth marks his path,
  • Whom Justice leadeth to his long-lost home
  • With unexpected train. What else remains
  • Our sleepless zeal, with favour of the gods,
  • Shall order as befits.

  Aga.

  • Daughter of Leda, guardian of my house!
  • Almost thou seem’st to have spun thy welcome out
  • To match my lengthened absence; but I pray thee
  • Praise with discretion, and let other mouths
  • Proclaim my pæans. For the rest, abstain
  • From delicate tendance that would turn my manhood
  • To woman’s temper. Not in barbaric wise
  • With prostrate reverence base, kissing the ground,
  • Mouth sounding salutations; not with purple,
  • Breeder of envy, spread my path. Such honors
  • Suit the immortal gods; me, being mortal,
  • To tread on rich-flowered carpetings wise fear
  • Prohibits. As a man, not as a god,
  • Let me be honored. Not the less my fame
  • Shall be far blazoned, that on common earth
  • I tread untapestried. A sober heart
  • Is the best gift of God; call no man happy
  • Till death hath found him prosperous to the close.
  • For me, if what awaits me fall not worse
  • Than what hath fallen, I have good cause to look
  • Bravely on fate.

  Clytem.

  • Nay, but my good lord will not
  • In this gainsay my heart’s most warm desire.

  Aga.

  My wish and will thou shalt not lightly mar.

  Clytem.

  Hast thou a vow belike, and fear’st the gods?

  Aga.

  If e’er man knew, I know my will in this.

  Clytem.

  Had Priam conquered, what had Priam done?

  Aga.

  His feet had trod the purple; doubt it not.

  Clytem.

  • What Priam would, thou may’st, unless the fear
  • Of popular blame make Agamemnon quail.

  Aga.

  But popular babble strengthens Envy’s wing.

  Clytem.

  Thou must be envied if thou wilt be great.

  Aga.

  Is it a woman’s part to hatch contention?

  Clytem.

  For once be conquered; they who conquer may Yield with a grace.

  Aga.

  • And thou in this vain strife
  • Must be perforce the conqueror; is it so?

  Clytem.

  ’Tis even so: for once give me the reins.

  Aga.

  • Thou hast thy will. Come, boy, unbind these sandals,65
  • That are the prostrate subjects to my feet,
  • When I do tread; for with shod feet I never
  • May leave my print on the sea-purple, lest
  • Some god with jealous eye look from afar
  • And mark me. Much I fear with insolent foot
  • To trample wealth, and rudely soil the web
  • Whose precious threads the pure-veined silver buys.
  • So much for this. As for this maid, receive
  • The stranger kindly: the far-seeing gods
  • Look down with love on him who mildly sways.
  • For never yet was yoke of slavery borne
  • By willing neck; of all the captive maids
  • The choicest flower she to my portion fell.
  • And now, since thou art victor o’er my will,
  • I tread the purple to my father’s hall.

  Clytem.

  • The wide sea flows; and who shall dry it up?
  • The ocean flows, and in its vasty depths
  • Is brewed the purple’s die, as silver precious,
  • A tincture ever-fresh for countless robes.
  • But Agamemnon’s house is not a beggar;
  • With this, and with much more the gods provide us;
  • And purple I had vowed enough to spread
  • The path of many triumphs, had a god
  • Given me such ’hest oracular to buy
  • The ransom of thy life. We have thee now,
  • Both root and trunk, a tree rich leafage spreading
  • To shade this mansion from the Sirian dog.
  • Welcome, thou double blessing [Editor: illegible character] to this hearth
  • That bringest heat against keen winter’s cold,
  • And coolness when the sweltering Jove prepares
  • Wine from the crudeness of the bitter grape;
  • Enter the house, made perfect by thy presence.
  • Jove, Jove, the perfecter! perfect thou my vow,66
  • And thine own counsels quickly perfect thou!

  [Exeunt.

  • CHORAL HYMN.
    STROPHE I.
  • Whence these shapes of fear that haunt me?
  • These hovering portents why?
  • Is my heart a seer inspired,
  • To chaunt unbidden and unhired67
  • Notes of dark prophecy?
  • Blithe confidence, my bosom’s lord,*
  • That swayed the doubtful theme,
  • Arise, and with thy clear command
  • Chase the vain-vexing dream!
  • Long years have rolled; and still I fear,
  • As when the Argive band
  • Unloosed their cables from the shore,68
  • And eager plied the frequent oar
  • To the far Ilian strand.
  • ANTISTROPHE I.
  • Now they return: my vouching eyes
  • To prop my faith conspire,
  • And yet my heart, in self-taught hymns,
  • As with a Fury’s burden brims,
  • And will not own the lyre.
  • I fear, I fear: the bold-faced Hope
  • Hath left my heart all drear;
  • And my thought, not idly tossed within,
  • Feels evil creeping near.
  • For the heart hath scent of things to come
  • And prophesies by fear;
  • And yet I pray, may all conspire
  • To prove my boding heart a liar,
  • And me a foolish seer.
  • STROPHE II.
  • Full-blooded health, that in the veins
  • With lusty pulses hotly wells,
  • Shall soon have check. Disease beside it
  • Wall to wall, ill-sundered, dwells.
  • The proud trireme, with sudden shock,
  • In its mid career, on a sunken rock
  • Strikes, and all is lost.
  • Yet there is hope; the ship may rein
  • Its plunge, from whelming ruin free,
  • If with wise sling the merchant fling
  • Into the greedy sea
  • A part to save the whole. And thus
  • Jove, that two-handed stores for us,
  • In our mid woe may pause,
  • Heap gifts on gifts from yearly furrows,
  • And save the house from swamping sorrows,
  • And lean starvation’s jaws.
  • ANTISTROPHE II.
  • But, oh! when black blood stains the ground,
  • And the mortal mortal lies,
  • Shall the dead hear when thou chauntest?
  • To thy charming shall he rise?
  • Once there was a leech so wise
  • Could raise the dead,* but, from the skies,
  • Struck by Jove, he ceased.
  • But cease my song. Were link with link
  • In the chain of things not bound together69
  • That each event must wait its time,
  • Nor one dare trip the other,
  • My tongue had played the prophet’s part,
  • And rolled the burden from my heart;
  • But now, to doubt resigned,
  • With smothered fears, all dumb I wait
  • The unravelling hour; while sparks of fate
  • Flit through my darksome mind.

  EnterClytemnestra.

  Clytem.

  • Come thou, too, in; this maid, I mean; Cassandra!
  • For not in wrath Jove sent thee here to share
  • Our family lustrations, and to stand,
  • With many slaves, beside the household altar.70
  • Step from this car, nor bear thy spirit proudly
  • Above thy fate, for even Alcmena’s son,
  • To slavery sold, once bore the hated yoke.
  • What must be, must be; rather thank the chance
  • That gave thee to an old and wealthy house;
  • For they who reap an unexpected growth
  • Of wealth, are harsh to slaves beyond the line
  • Of a well-tempered rule. Here thou shalt find
  • The common use of bondage.

  Chorus.

  • Plainly she speaks;
  • And thou within Fate’s iron toils once caught
  • Wert wise to go—if go thou wilt—but, soothly,
  • Thou hast no willing look.

  Clytem.

  • Nay! an’ she be not
  • Barbarian to the bone, and speaking nought
  • Save swallow jabber,* she shall hear my voice.
  • I’ll pierce her marrow with it.

  Chorus

  • Captive maid,
  • Obey! thou shouldst; ’tis best; be thou persuaded
  • To leave thy chariot-seat and follow her.

  Clytem.

  • No time have I to stand without the gate
  • Prating with her. Within, on the central hearth,
  • The fire burns bright, the sheep’s fat slaughter waiting,
  • To furnish forth a banquet that transcends
  • The topmost of our hopes. Wilt thou obey,
  • Obey me quickly! If with stubborn sense
  • Thou hast nor ear to hear, nor voice to speak,
  • Answer my sign with thy barbarian hand.

  Chorus.

  • A wise interpreter the maid demands;
  • Like a wild beast new caught, even so she stands.

  Clytem.

  • Ay! she is mad; her wit to sober counsels
  • Is deaf; she comes from the new-captured city,
  • Untaught to bear the Argive bit with patience,
  • But foams and dashes bloody froth. I will not
  • Make myself base by wasting words on her.

  [Exit.

  Chorus.

  • Poor maid, I may not blame; I pity thee.
  • Come, leave thy seat, for, though the yoke be strange,
  • Necessity compels, and thou must bear it.

  STROPHE I.

  Cass.

  • Ah! ah! woes me! woe! woe!
  • Apollo! O Apollo!

  Chorus.

  • Why dost thou wail to Loxias?† is he
  • A gloomy god that he should list sad tales?

  ANTISTROPHE I.

  Cass.

  • Ah! ah! woes me! woe! woe!
  • Apollo! O Apollo!

  Chorus.

  • Again with evil-omened voice she cries
  • Upon the god least fit to wait on woe.

  STROPHE II.

  Cass.

  • Apollo! Apollo!
  • My way-god, my leader Apollo!71
  • Apollo the destroyer!
  • Thou with light labour hast destroyed me quite.

  Chorus.

  • Strange oracles against herself she speaks;
  • Ev’n in the bondsman’s bosom dwells the god.

  ANTISTROPHE II.

  Cass.

  • Apollo! Apollo!
  • Apollo, my leader, whither hast thou led me?72
  • My way-god, Apollo?
  • What homes receive thy captive prophetess?

  Chorus.

  • The Atridæ’s homes. This, an’ thou knowst it not,
  • I tell thee, and the words I speak are true.

  STROPHE III.

  Cass.

  • Ha! the house of the Atridæ!*
  • Well the godless house I know,
  • With the dagger and the rope,
  • And the self-inflicted blow!
  • Where red blood is on the floor,
  • And black murder at the door—
  • This house—this house I know.

  Chorus.

  • She scents out slaughter, mark me, like a hound,
  • And tracks the spot where she shall feast on blood.

  ANTISTROPHE III.

  Cass.

  • Ay! I scent a truthful scent,
  • And the thing I say I know.
  • See! see! these weeping children,
  • How they vouch the monstrous woe!
  • Their red wounds are bleeding fresh,
  • And their father eats their flesh,
  • This bloody house I know.

  Chorus.

  • The fame of thy divinings far renowned
  • Have reached us, but we wish no prophets here.

  STROPHE IV.

  Cass.

  • Ha! ha! what plots she now!
  • A new sorrow, a new snare
  • To the house of the Atridæ,
  • And a burden none may bear!
  • A black harm to all and each,
  • A disease that none may leech,
  • And the evil plot to mar
  • All help and hope is far.

  Chorus.

  • Nay now I’m lost and mazed in vain surmise.
  • What first she said I knew—the common rumour.

  ANTISTROPHE IV.

  Cass.

  • Ha! woman wilt thou dare?
  • Thy bed’s partner and thy mate
  • In the warm refreshing bath
  • Shall he find his bloody fate?
  • How shall I dare to say
  • What comes and will not stay?
  • See, to do her heart’s command
  • Where she stretches her red hand!

  Chorus.

  • Not yet I understand: through riddles dark
  • And cloudy oracles my wits are wandering.

  STROPHE V.

  Cass.

  • Ha! what bloody sight is this!
  • ’Tis a net of Hades spread—
  • ’Tis a snare to snare her lord,
  • The fond sharer of her bed.
  • The black chorus of the place*
  • Shout for vengeance o’er the race,
  • Whose offence cries for atoning,
  • With a heavy death of stoning!

  STROPHE VI.

  Chorus.

  • What black Fury of the place
  • Shall shout vengeance o’er the race?
  • Such strange words I hate to hear.
  • The blithe blood, that crimson ran73
  • In my veins, runs pale and wan
  • With the taint of yellow fear,
  • As when in the mortal anguish,74
  • Life’s last fitful glimpses languish
  • And Fate, as now, is near!

  ANTISTROPHE V.

  Cass.

  • Ha! ha! the work proceeds!
  • From the bull keep back the cow!
  • Lo! now she seizes him
  • By the strong black horn,75 and now
  • She hath wrapt him round with slaughter;
  • She strikes! and in the water
  • Of the bath he falls. Mark well,
  • In the bath doth murder dwell.

  ANTISTROPHE VI.

  Chorus.

  • No prophetic gift is mine
  • The dark saying to divine,
  • But this sounds like evil quite;
  • For to mortal man was never
  • The diviner’s voice the giver
  • Of a message of delight,
  • But in words of mazy mourning,
  • Comes the prophet’s voice of warning,
  • With a lesson of affright.

  STROPHE VII.

  Cass.

  • Fill the cup, and brim the woe!
  • ’Tis my own heart’s blood must flow
  • Me! miserable me!
  • From old Troy why didst thou bring me
  • Poor captive maid, to sing thee
  • Thy dirge, and die with thee?

  STROPHE VIII.

  Chorus.

  • By a god thou art possessed,
  • And he raveth in thy breast,
  • And he sings a song of thee
  • That hath music, but no glee.
  • Like a dun-plumed nightingale,*
  • That, with never-sated wail,
  • Crieth Itys! Itys! aye,76
  • As it scatters, in sweet flow,
  • The thick blossoms of its woe,77
  • So singest thou to-day.

  ANTISTROPHE VII.

  Cass.

  • Ah! the clear-toned nightingale!
  • Mellow bird, thou dost not wail,†
  • For the good gods gave to thee
  • A light shape of fleetest winging,
  • A bright life of sweetest singing,
  • But a sharp-edged death to me.

  ANTISTROPHE VIII.

  Chorus.

  • By a god thou art possessed,
  • And he goads thee without rest,
  • And he racks thy throbbing brain
  • With a busy-beating pain,
  • And he presses from thy throat
  • The heavy struggling note,
  • And the cry that rends the air.
  • Who bade her tread this path,
  • With the prophecy of wiath,
  • And the burden of despair?

  STROPHE IX.

  Cass.

  • O the wedlock and the woe
  • Of the evil Alexander,
  • To his chiefest friends a foe!
  • O my native stream Scamander,
  • Where in youth I wont to wander,
  • And was nursed for future woes,
  • Where thy swirling current flows!
  • But now on sluggish shore
  • Of Cocytus I shall pour,
  • ’Mid the Acherusian glades,
  • My divinings to the shades.

  STROPHE X.

  Chorus.

  • Nothing doubtful is the token;
  • For the words the maid hath spoken
  • To a very child are clear.
  • She hath pierced me to the marrow;
  • And her cry of shrieking sorrow
  • Ah! it crushes me to hear.

  ANTISTROPHE IX.

  Cass.

  • The proud city lieth lowly,
  • Nevermore to rise again!
  • It is lost and ruined wholly;
  • And before the walls in vain
  • Hath my pious father slain
  • Many meadow-cropping kine,
  • To appease the wrath divine.
  • Where it lieth it shall lie,
  • Ancient Ilium: and I
  • On the ground, when all is past,
  • Soon my reeking heart shall cast.78

  ANTISTROPHE X.

  Chorus.

  • Ah! the mighty god, wrath-laden,
  • He hath smote the burdened maiden
  • With a weighty doom severe.
  • From her heart sharp cries he wringeth,
  • Dismal, deathful strains she singeth,
  • And I wait the end in fear.

  Cass.

  • No more my prophecy, like a young bride
  • Shall from a veil peep forth, but like a wind
  • Waves shall it dash from the west in the sun’s face,79
  • And curl high-crested surges of fierce woes,
  • That far outbillow mine. I’ll speak no more
  • In dark enigmas. Ye my vouchers be,
  • While with keen scent I snuff the breath of the past,
  • And point the track of monstrous crimes of eld.
  • There is a choir, to destiny well-tuned,
  • Haunts these doomed halls, no mellow-throated choir,
  • And they of human blood have largely drunk:
  • And by that wine made bold, the Bacchanals
  • Cling to their place of revels. The sister’d Furies
  • Sit on these roofs, and hymn the prime offence
  • Of this crime-burthened race; the brother’s sin
  • That trod the brother’s bed.* Speak! do I hit
  • The mark, a marksman true? or do I beat
  • Your doors, a babbling beggar prophesying
  • False dooms for hire? Be ye my witnesses,
  • And with an oath avouch, how well I know
  • The hoary sins that hang upon these walls

  Chorus.

  • Would oaths make whole our ills, though I should wedge them
  • As stark as ice?80 But I do marvel much
  • That thou, a stranger born, from distant seas,
  • Dost know our city as it were thine own.

  Cass.

  Even this to know, Apollo stirred my breast.

  Chorus.

  Apollo! didst thou strike the god with love?

  Cass.

  Till now I was ashamed to hint the tale.

  Chorus.

  • The dainty lips of nice prosperity
  • Misfortune opens.

  Cass.

  • Like a wrestler he
  • Strove for my love; he breathed his grace upon me.

  Chorus.

  And hast thou children from divine embrace?

  Cass.

  I gave the word to Loxias, not the deed

  Chorus.

  Hadst thou before received the gift divine?

  Cass.

  I had foretold my countrymen all their woes

  Chorus.

  Did not the anger of the god pursue thee?

  Cass.

  It did; I warned, but none believed my warning.

  Chorus

  • To us thou seem’st to utter things that look
  • Only too like the truth.

  Cass.

  • Ah me! woe! woe!
  • Again strong divination’s troublous whirl
  • Seizes my soul, and stirs my labouring breast
  • With presages of doom. Lo! where they sit,
  • These pitiful young ones on the fated roof,
  • Like to the shapes of dreams! The innocent babes,
  • Butchered by friends that should have blessed them, and
  • In their own hands their proper bowels they bear,
  • Banquet abhorred, and their own father eats it.*
  • This deed a lion, not a lion-hearted
  • Shall punish; wantonly in her bed, whose lord
  • Shall pay the heavy forfeit, he shall roll,
  • And snare my master—woe’s me, even my master,
  • For slavery’s yoke my neck must learn to own.
  • Ah! little weens the leader of the ships,
  • Troy’s leveller, how a hateful bitch’s tongue,
  • With long-drawn phrase, and broad-sown smile, doth weave
  • His secret ruin. This a woman dares;
  • The female mars the male. Where shall I find
  • A name to name such monster? dragon dire,
  • Rock-lurking Scylla, the vexed seaman’s harm,
  • Mother of Hades, murder’s Mænad, breathing
  • Implacable breath of curses on her kin.81
  • All-daring woman! shouting in her heart,
  • As o’er the foe, when backward rolls the fight,
  • Yet hymning kindliest welcome with her tongue.
  • Ye look mistrustful; I am used to that.
  • That comes which is to come; and ye shall know
  • Full soon, with piteous witness in your eyes,
  • How true, and very true, Cassandra spake.

  Chorus.

  • Thyestes’ banquet, and his children’s flesh
  • I know, and shudder; strange that she should know
  • The horrors of that tale; but for the rest
  • She runs beyond my following.

  Cass.

  • Thus I said;
  • Thine eyes shall witness Agamemnon’s death

  Chorus.

  • Hush, wretched maiden! lull thy tongue to rest,
  • And cease from evil-boding words!

  Cass.

  • Alas!
  • The gods that heal all evil, heal not this.

  Chorus

  If it must be, but may the gods forefend!

  Cass.

  Pray thou, and they will have more time to kill.

  Chorus.

  What man will dare to do such bloody deed?

  Cass.

  I spake not of a man: thy thoughts shoot wide

  Chorus.

  The deed I heard, but not whose hand should do it.

  Cass.

  And yet I spake good Greek with a good Greek tongue.

  Chorus.

  Thou speakest Apollo’s words: true, but obscure.

  Cass.

  • Ah me! the god! like fire within my breast
  • Burns the Lycéan god.* Ah me! pain! pain!
  • A lioness two-footed with a wolf
  • Is bedded, when the noble lion roamed
  • Far from his den; and she will murder me.
  • She crowns the cup of wrath; she whets the knife
  • Against the neck of the man, and he must pay
  • The price of capture, I of being captive.
  • Vain gauds, that do but mock my grief, farewell!
  • This laurel-rod, and this diviner’s wreath
  • About my neck, should they outlive the wearer?
  • Away! As ye have paid me, I repay.
  • Make rich some other prophetess with woe!
  • Lo! where Apollo looks, and sees me now
  • Doff this diviner’s garb, the self-same weeds
  • He tricked me erst withal, to live for him,
  • The public scorn, the scoff of friends and foes,
  • The mark of every ribald jester’s tongue,
  • The homeless girl, the raving mountebank,
  • The beggar’d, wretched, starving maniac.
  • And now who made the prophetess unmakes her,
  • And leads me to my doom—ah! not beside
  • My father’s altar doomed to die! the block
  • From my hot life shall drink the purple stain.
  • But we shall fall not unavenged: the gods
  • A mother-murdering shoot shall send from far
  • To avenge his sire; the wanderer shall return
  • To pile the cope-stone on these towering woes.
  • The gods in heaven a mighty oath have sworn,
  • To raise anew the father’s prostrate fate
  • By the son’s arm.—But why stand here, and beat
  • The air with cries, seeing what I have seen;
  • When Troy hath fallen, suffering what it suffered,
  • And they who took the city by the doom
  • Of righteous gods faring as they shall fare?
  • I will endure to die, and greet these gates
  • Of Hades gaping for me Grant me, ye gods,
  • A mortal stroke well-aimed, and a light fall
  • From cramped convulsion free! Let the red blood
  • Flow smoothly from its fount, that I may close
  • These eyes in peaceful death.

  Chorus.

  • O hapless maid!
  • And wise as hapless! thou hast spoken long!
  • But if thou see’st the harm, why rush on fate
  • Even as an ox, whom favouring gods inspire
  • To stand by the altar’s steps, and woo the knife.

  Cass.

  I’m in the net. Time will not break the meshes.

  Chorus.

  But the last moment of sweet life is honoured.

  Cass.

  My hour is come, what should I gain by flight?

  Chorus.

  Thou with a stout heart bravely look’st on fate.

  Cass.

  Bravely thou praisest: but the happy hear not Such commendations.82

  Chorus.

  • Yet if death must come,
  • His fame is fair who nobly fronts the foe.

  Cass.

  Woe’s me, the father and his noble children!

  Chorus.

  Whither now? What father and what children? Speak.

  Cass.

  • [Approaching and starting back from the house.]
  • Woe! woe!

  Chorus.

  What means this woe? What horrid fancy scares thee?

  Cass.

  Blood-dripping murder reeks from yonder house.

  Chorus.

  How? ’Tis the scent of festal sacrifice.

  Cass.

  The scent of death—a fragrance from the grave.

  Chorus.

  Soothly no breath of Syrian nard she names.

  Cass.

  • But now the time is come. I go within
  • To wail for Agamemnon and myself.
  • I’ve done with life. Farewell! My vouchers ye,
  • Not with vain screaming, like a fluttering bird,83
  • Above the bush I cry. Yourselves shall know it
  • Then when, for me a woman, a woman dies,
  • And for a man ill-wived a man shall fall
  • Trust me in this. Your honest faith is all
  • The Trojan guest, the dying woman, craves.

  Chorus.

  O wretched maid! O luckless prophetess

  Cass.

  • Yet will I speak one other word, before
  • I leave this light. Hear thou my vows, bright sun,
  • And, though a slave’s death be a little thing,
  • Send thou the avenging hand with full requital,
  • To pay my murderers back, as they have paid.
  • Alas! the fates of men! their brightest bloom
  • A shadow blights; and, in their evil day,
  • An oozy sponge blots out their fleeting prints,
  • And they are seen no more. From bad to worse
  • Our changes run, and with the worst we end.84

  [Exit.

  Chorus.

  • Men crave increase of riches ever
  • With insatiate craving. Never
  • From the finger-pointed halls
  • Of envied wealth their owner calls,
  • “Enter no more! I have enough!”
  • This man the gods with honour crowned;
  • He hath levelled with the ground
  • Priam’s city, and in triumph
  • Glorious home returns;
  • But if doomed the fine to pay
  • Of ancient guilt, and death with death
  • To guerdon in the end,
  • Who of mortals will not pray,85
  • From high-perched Fortune’s favour far,
  • A blameless life to spend.

  Aga.

  [From within.] O I am struck! struck with a mortal blow!

  Chorus.

  Hush! what painful voice is speaking there of strokes and mortal blows?

  Aga.

  O struck again! struck with a mortal blow!

  Chorus.

  • ’Tis the king that groans; the work, the bloody work, I fear, is doing.
  • Weave we counsel now together, and concert a sure design.86

  1st Chorus.

  • I give my voice to lift the loud alarm,
  • And rouse the city to besiege the doors.

  2nd Chorus.

  • Rather forthwith go in ourselves, and prove
  • The murderer with the freshly-dripping blade.

  3rd Chorus.

  • I add my pebble to thine. It is not well
  • That we delay. Fate hangs upon the moment.

  4th Chorus.

  • The event is plain, with this prelusive blood
  • They hang out signs of tyranny to Argos.

  5th Chorus.

  • Then why stay we? Procrastination they
  • Tramp underfoot; they sleep not with their hands.

  6th Chorus.

  • Not so. When all is dark, shall we unwisely
  • Rush blindfold on an unconsulted deed?

  7th Chorus.

  • Thou speakest well. If he indeed be dead,
  • Our words are vain to bring him back from Hades.

  8th Chorus.

  • Shall we submit to drag a weary life
  • Beneath the shameless tyrants of this house?

  9th Chorus.

  • Unbearable! and better far to die!
  • Death is a gentler lord than tyranny.

  10th Chorus.

  • First ask we this, if to have heard a groan
  • Gives a sure augury that the man is dead.

  11th Chorus.

  • Wisdom requires to probe the matter well:
  • To guess is one thing, and to know another.

  12th Chorus.

  • So wisely spoken87 With full-voiced assent
  • Inquire we first how Agamemnon fares.

  [The scene opens from behind, and discoversClytemnestrastanding over the dead bodies ofAgamemnonandCassandra.]

  Clytem.

  • I spoke to you before; and what I spoke
  • Suited the time; nor shames me now to speak
  • Mine own refutal. For how shall we entrap
  • Our foe, our seeming friend, in scapeless ruin,
  • Save that we fence him round with nets too high
  • For his o’erleaping? What I did, I did
  • Not with a random inconsiderate blow,
  • But from old Hate, and with maturing Time.
  • Here, where I struck, I take my rooted stand,
  • Upon the finished deed:88 the blow so given,
  • And with wise forethought so by me devised,
  • That flight was hopeless, and to ward it vain.
  • With many-folding net, as fish are caught,
  • I drew the lines about him, mantled round
  • With bountiful destruction; twice I struck him,
  • And twice he groaning fell with limbs diffused
  • Upon the ground; and as he fell, I gave
  • The third blow, sealing him a votive gift
  • To gloomy Hades, saviour of the dead.
  • And thus he spouted forth his angry soul,
  • Bubbling a bitter stream of frothy slaughter,
  • And with the dark drops of the gory dew
  • Bedashed me; I delighted nothing less
  • Than doth the flowery calix, full surcharged
  • With fruity promise, when Jove’s welkin down
  • Distils the rainy blessing. Men of Argos,
  • Rejoice with me in this, or, if ye will not,
  • Then do I boast alone. If e’er ’twas meet
  • To pour libations to the dead, he hath them
  • In justest measure. By most righteous doom,
  • Who drugged the cup with curses to the brim,
  • Himself hath drunk damnation to the dregs.

  Chorus.

  • Thou art a bold-mouthed woman. Much we marvel
  • To hear thee boast thy husband’s murder thus.

  Clytem.

  • Ye tempt me as a woman, weak, unschooled.
  • But what I say, ye know, or ought to know,
  • I say with fearless heart. Your praise or blame
  • Is one to me. Here Agamemnon lies,
  • My husband, dead, the work of this right hand—
  • The hand of a true workman. Thus it stands.

  STROPHE.

  Chorus.

  • Woman! what food on wide earth growing
  • Hast thou eaten of? What draught
  • From the briny ocean quaffed,
  • That for such deed the popular breath
  • Of Argos should with curses crown thee,
  • As a victim crowned for death?
  • Thou hast cast off: thou hast cut off
  • Thine own husband:89 thou shalt be
  • From the city of the free
  • Thyself a cast-off: justly hated
  • With staunch hatred unabated.

  Clytem.

  • My sentence thou hast spoken; shameful flight,
  • The citizens’ hate, the people’s vengeful curse:
  • For him thou hast no curse, the bloody man
  • Who, when the fleecy flocks innumerous pastured,
  • Passed the brute by, and sacrificed my child,
  • My best-beloved, fruit of my throes, to lull
  • The Thracian blasts asleep. Why did thy wrath,
  • In righteous guerdon of this foulest crime,
  • Not chase this man from Greece? A greedy ear
  • And a harsh tongue thou hast for me alone.
  • But mark my words,90 threats I repay with threats;
  • If that thou canst subdue me in fair fight,
  • Subdue me; but if Jove for me decide,
  • Thou shalt be wise, when wisdom comes too late.

  ANTISTROPHE.

  Chorus.

  • Thou art high and haughty-hearted,
  • And from lofty thoughts within thee
  • Mighty words are brimming o’er:
  • For thy sober sense is madded
  • With the purple-dripping gore;
  • And thine eyes with fatness swell91
  • From bloody feasts: but mark me well,
  • Time shall come, avenging Time,
  • And hunt thee out, and track thy crime:
  • Then thou, when friends are far, shalt know
  • Stroke for stroke, and blow for blow.

  Clytem.

  • Hear thou this oath, that seals my cause with right:
  • By sacred Justice, perfecting revenge,
  • By Até, and the Erinnys of my child,
  • To whom I slew this man, I shall not tread
  • The threshold of pale Fear, the while doth live
  • Ægisthus, now, as he hath been, my friend,
  • Stirring the flame that blazes on my hearth,
  • My shield of strong assurance. For the slain,
  • Here lieth he that wronged a much-wronged woman,
  • Sweet honey-lord of Trojan Chryseids.
  • And for this spear-won maid, this prophetess,
  • This wise diviner, well-beloved bed-fellow,
  • And trusty messmate of great Agamemnon,
  • She shares his fate, paying with him the fee
  • Of her own sin, and like a swan hath sung
  • Her mortal song beside him. She hath been
  • Rare seasoning added to my banquet rare.

  STROPHE I.92

  Chorus.

  • O would some stroke of Fate—no dull disease
  • Life’s strings slow-rending,
  • No bed-bound pain—might bring, my smart to soothe,
  • The sleep unending!
  • For he, my gracious lord, my guide, is gone,
  • Beyond recalling;
  • Slain for a woman’s cause, and by the hands
  • Of woman falling.
  • STROPHE II.
  • O Helen! Helen! phrenzied Helen,
  • Many hearts of thee are telling
  • Damned destruction thou hast done,
  • There where thousands fell for one
  • ’Neath the walls of Troy
  • ANTISTROPHE II.
  • Bloomed from thee the blossom gory
  • Of famous Agamemnon’s glory;
  • Thou hast roused the slumbering strife,
  • From age to age, with eager knife,
  • Watching to destroy.

  STROPHE III.

  Clytem.

  • Death invoke not to relieve thee
  • From the ills that vainly grieve thee!
  • Nor, with ire indignant swelling,
  • Blame the many-murdering Helen!
  • Damned destruction did she none,
  • There, where thousands fell for one,
  • ’Neath the walls of Troy.
  • ANTISTROPHE I.
  • O god that o’er the doomed Atridan halls93
  • With might prevailest,
  • Weak woman’s breast to do thy headlong will
  • With murder mailest!
  • O’er his dead body, like a boding raven,
  • Thou tak’st thy station,
  • Piercing my marrow with thy savage hymn
  • Of exultation.

  ANTISTROPHE III.

  Clytem.

  • Nay, but now thou speakest wisely;
  • This thrice-potent god precisely
  • Works our woe, and weaves our sorrow.
  • He with madness stings the marrow,
  • And with greed that thirsts for blood;
  • Ere to-day’s is dry, the flood
  • Flows afresh to-morrow.

  STROPHE IV.

  Chorus.

  • Him, even him, this terrible god, to bear
  • These walls are fated;
  • From age to age he worketh wildly there
  • With wrath unsated.
  • Not without Jove, Jove cause and end of all,
  • Nor working vainly.
  • Comes no event but with high sway the gods
  • Have ruled it plainly.

  STROPHE V.

  Chorus.

  • O the king! the king! for thee
  • Tears in vain my cheek shall furrow,
  • Words in vain shall voice my sorrow!
  • As in a spider’s web thou liest;
  • Godless meshes spread for thee,
  • An unworthy death thou diest!

  STROPHE VI.

  Chorus.

  • There, even there thou liest, woe’s me, outstretched
  • On couch inglorious;
  • O’er thee the knife prevailed, keen-edged, by damned
  • Deceit victorious.

  STROPHE VII.

  Clytem.

  • Nay, be wise, and understand;
  • Say not Agamemnon’s wife
  • Wielded in this human hand
  • The fateful knife.
  • But a god, my spirit’s master,
  • The unrelenting old Alastor94
  • Chose this wife, his incarnation,
  • To avenge the desecration
  • Of foul-feasting Atreus, he
  • Gave, to work his wrath’s completion
  • To the babes this grown addition.

  ANTISTROPHE IV.

  Chorus.

  • Thy crime is plain: bear thou what thou hast merited,
  • Guilt’s heavy lading;
  • But that fell Spirit, from sire to son inherited,
  • Perchance was aiding.
  • Black-mantled Mars through consanguineous gore
  • Borne onwards blindly,
  • Old horrors to atone, fresh Murder’s store
  • Upheaps unkindly.
  • ANTISTROPHE V.
  • O the king! the king! for thee
  • Tears in vain my cheek shall furrow,
  • Words in vain shall voice my sorrow!
  • As in a spider’s web thou liest;
  • Godless meshes spread for thee,
  • An unworthy death thou diest.

  ANTISTROPHE VI.

  Chorus.

  • There, even there, thou liest, woe’s me, outstretched
  • On couch inglorious!
  • O’er thee the knife prevailed, keen-edged, by damned
  • Decent victorious.

  ANTISTROPHE VII.

  Clytem.

  • Say not thou that he did die
  • By unworthy death inglorious,
  • Erst himself prevailed by damned
  • Deceit victorious,
  • Then when he killed the deep-lamented
  • Iphigenía, nor relented
  • When for my body’s fruit with weeping
  • I besought him. Springs his reaping
  • From what seed he sowed. Not he
  • In Hades housed shall boast to-day;
  • So slain by steel as he did slay.

  STROPHE VIII.

  Chorus.

  • I’m tossed with doubt, on no sure counsel grounded,
  • With fear confounded.
  • No drizzling drops, a red ensanguined shower,
  • Upon the crazy house, that was my tower,
  • Comes wildly sweeping,
  • On a new whetstone whets her blade the Fate
  • With eyes unweeping.

  STROPHE IX.

  Chorus.

  • O Earth, O Earth, would thou hadst yawned,
  • And in thy black pit whelmed me wholly,
  • Ere I had seen my dear-loved lord
  • In the silver bath thus bedded lowly!
  • Who will bury him? and for him
  • With salt tears what eyes shall brim?
  • Wilt thou do it—thou, the wife
  • That slew thy husband with the knife?
  • Wilt thou dare, with blushless face,
  • Thus to offer a graceless grace?
  • With false show of pious moaning,
  • Thine own damned deed atoning?

  STROPHE X.

  Chorus.

  • What voice the praises of the godlike man
  • Shall publish clearly?
  • And o’er his tomb the tear from eyelids wan
  • Shall drop sincerely?

  STROPHE XI.

  Clytem.

  • In vain thy doubtful heart is tried
  • With many sorrows. By my hand
  • Falling he fell, and dying died.95
  • I too will bury him; but no train
  • Of mourning men for him shall plain
  • In our Argive streets; but rather
  • In the land of sunless cheer
  • She shall be his convoy; she,
  • Iphigenía, his daughter dear.
  • By the stream of woes* swift-flowing,
  • Round his neck her white arms throwing,
  • She shall meet her gentle father,
  • And greet him with a kiss.

  ANTISTROPHE VIII.

  Chorus.

  • Crime quitting crime, and which the more profanely
  • Were questioned vainly;
  • ’Tis robber robbed, and slayer slain, for, though
  • Oft-times it lag, with measured blow for blow
  • Vengeance prevaileth,
  • While great Jove lives.96 Who breaks the close-linked woe
  • Which Heaven entaileth?

  ANTISTROPHE IX.

  Chorus.

  • O Earth, O Earth, would thou hadst yawned,
  • And in thy black pit whelmed me wholly,
  • Ere I had seen my dear-loved lord
  • In the silver bath thus bedded lowly!
  • Who will bury him? and for him
  • With salt tears, what eyes shall brim?
  • Wilt thou do it? thou, the wife
  • That killed thy husband with the knife?
  • Wilt thou dare, with blushless face,
  • Thus to offer a graceless grace?
  • With false show of pious moaning
  • Thine own damned deed atoning?

  ANTISTROPHE X.

  Chorus.

  • What voice the praises of the god-like man
  • Shall publish clearly?
  • And o’er his tomb the tear from eyelids wan
  • Shall drop sincerely?

  ANTISTROPHE XI.

  Clytem.

  • Cease thy cries. Where Heaven entaileth,
  • Thyself didst say, woe there prevaileth.
  • But for this tide enough hath been
  • Of bloody work. My score is clean.
  • Now to the ancient stern Alastor,
  • That crowns the Pleisthenids* with disaster,
  • I vow, having reaped his crop of woe
  • From me, to others let him go,
  • And hold with them his bloody bridal,
  • Of horrid murders suicidal!
  • Myself, my little store amassed
  • Shall freely use, while it may last,
  • From murdering madness healed.

  EnterÆgisthus.

  Ægis.

  • O blessed light! O happy day proclaiming
  • The justice of the gods! Now may I say
  • The Olympians look from heaven sublime, to note
  • Our woes, and right our wrongs, seeing as I see
  • In the close meshes of the Erinnyes tangled
  • This man—sweet sight to see!—prostrate before me,
  • Having paid the forfeit of his father’s crime.
  • For Atreus, ruler of this Argive land,
  • This dead man’s father—to be plain—contending
  • About the mastery, banished from the city
  • Thyestes, his own brother and my father.
  • In suppliant guise back to his hearth again
  • The unhappy prince returned, content if he
  • Might tread his native acres, not besprent
  • With his own blood. Him with a formal show
  • Of hospitality—not love—received
  • The father of this dead, the godless Atreus;
  • And to my father for the savoury use
  • Of festive viands gave his children’s flesh
  • To feed on; in a separate dish concealed
  • Were legs and arms, and the fingers’ pointed tips,97
  • Broke from the body. These my father saw not;
  • But what remained, the undistinguished flesh,
  • He with unwitting greed devoured, and ate
  • A curse to Argos. Soon as known, his heart
  • Disowned the unholy feast, and with a groan
  • Back-falling he disgorged it. Then he vowed
  • Dark doom to the Pelopidae, and woes
  • Intolerable, while with his heel he spurned98
  • The supper, and thus voiced the righteous curse:
  • Thus perish all the race of Pleisthenes!
  • See here the cause why Agamemnon died,
  • And why his death most righteous was devised
  • By me; for I, Thyestes’ thirteenth son,
  • While yet a swaddled babe, was driven away
  • To houseless exile with my hapless sire.
  • But me avenging Justice nursed, and taught me,
  • Safer by distance, with invisible hand
  • To reach this man, and weave the brooded plot,
  • That worked his sure destruction. Now ’tis done;
  • And gladly might I die, beholding him,
  • There as he lies where Vengeance trapped his crimes.

  Chorus.

  • Ægisthus, that thou wantonest in the woe
  • Worked by thy crime I praise not. Thou alone
  • Didst slay this man, and planned the piteous slaughter
  • With willing heart. So say’st thou: but mark well,
  • Justice upon thy head the stony curse
  • Shall bring avoidless from the people’s hand.

  Ægis.

  • How? Thou who sittest on the neathmost bench,
  • Speak’st thus to me who ply the upper oar?
  • ’Tis a hard task to teach an old man wisdom,
  • And dullness at thy years is doubly dull;
  • But chains and hunger’s pangs sure leeches are,
  • And no diviner vends more potent balms
  • To drug a doting wit.99 Have eyes, and see,
  • Kick not against the pricks, nor vainly beat
  • Thy head on rocks.

  Chorus[toClytemnestra].

  • Woman, how couldst thou dare,
  • On thine own hearth to plot thy husband’s death;
  • First having shamed his bed, to welcome him
  • With murder from the wars?

  Ægis.

  • Speak on; each word shall be a fount of tears,
  • I’ll make thy tongue old Orpheus’ opposite.
  • He with sweet sounds led wild beasts where he would,
  • Thou where thou wilt not shalt be led, confounding
  • The woods with baby cries. Thou barkest now,
  • But, being bound, the old man shall be tame.

  Chorus.

  • A comely king wert thou to rule the Argives!
  • Whose wit had wickedness to plan the deed,
  • But failed the nerve in thy weak hand to do it.

  Ægis.

  • ’Twas wisely schemed with woman’s cunning wit
  • To snare him. I, from ancient date his foe,
  • Stood in most just suspicion. Now, ’tis done;
  • And I, succeeding to his wealth, shall know
  • To hold the reins full tightly. Who rebels
  • Shall not with corn be fatted for my traces,
  • But, stiffly haltered, he shall lodge secure
  • In darkness, with starvation for his mate.

  Chorus.

  • Hear me yet once. Why did thy dastard hand
  • Shrink from the deed? But now his wife hath done it,
  • Tainting this land with murder most abhorred,
  • Polluting Argive gods. But still Orestes
  • Looks on the light; him favouring Fortune shall
  • Nerve with one stroke to smite this guilty pair.

  Ægis.

  Nay, if thou for brawls art eager, and for battle, thou shalt know—

  Chorus.

  • Ho! my gallant co-mates, rouse ye!100 ’tis an earnest business now!
  • Quick, each hand with sure embracement hold the dagger by the hilt!

  Ægis.

  I can also hold a hilted dagger—not afraid to die.

  Chorus.

  Die!—we catch the word thou droppest, lucky chance, if thou wert dead!

  Clytem.

  • Not so, best-beloved! there needeth no enlargement to our ills.
  • We have reaped a liberal harvest, gleaned a crop of fruitful woes,
  • Gained a loss in brimming measure: blood’s been shed enough to-day.
  • Peacefully, ye hoary Elders, enter now your destined homes,
  • Ere mischance o’ertake you, deeming what is done hath so been done,
  • As it behoved to be, contented if the dread god add no more,
  • He that now the house of Pelops smiteth in his anger dire.
  • Thus a woman’s word doth warn ye, if that ye have wit to hear.

  Ægis.

  • Babbling fools are they; and I forsooth must meekly bear the shower,
  • Flowers of contumely cast from doting drivellers, tempting fate!
  • O! if length of hoary winters brought discretion, ye should know
  • Where the power is; wisely subject you the weak to me the strong.

  Chorus.

  Ill beseems our Argive mettle to court a coward on a throne.

  Ægis.

  Shielded now, be brave with words; my deeds expect some future day.

  Chorus.

  Ere that day belike some god shall bring Orestes to his home.

  Ægis.

  Feed, for thou hast nothing better, thou and he, on empty hope.

  Chorus.

  Glut thy soul, a lusty sinner, with sin’s fatness, while thou may’st.

  Ægis.

  Thou shalt pay the forfeit, greybeard, of thy braggart tongue anon.

  Chorus.

  Oh, the cock beside its partlet now may crow right valiantly!

  Clytem.

  • Heed not thou these brainless barkings. While to folly folly calls,
  • Thou and I with wise command shall surely sway these Argive halls.

  NOTES TO THE AGAMEMNON

  • πάρεστι σιγὰς (σιγηλος) ἄτιμος ἀλόιδορος
  • ἄληστος ἀϕεμένων ἰο̂εɩ̂ν;

  modified thus by Orelli—

  • ἄπιστος ἀϕεμέναν ἰδεɩ̂ν

  • —(See Wellauer)

  With a reference to Menelaus and not to Helen. In doing so, I am not at all moved by any merely philological consideration; but I may observe that the remark made by Well., Peile, and Con, that the words cannot refer to Menelaus, because he has not yet been mentioned, can have little weight in the present chorus, in the first antistrophe of which Paris is first alluded to, by dim indications, and afterwards distinctly by name This method of merely hinting at a person, before naming him, is common in all poetry, but peculiarly characteristic of Æschylus. Besides, it is impossible to deny that the πόθος in the next line refers to Menelaus, and can refer to no other. Con., who refers the words to Helen, translates thus—

  • “She stands in silence, scorned, yet unrebuking,
  • Most sweetly sorrowfully looking
  • Of brides that have from wedlock fled,”

  to which I have this further objection, that it is contrary to the poet’s intention and to the moral tone of the piece, to paint the fair fugitive with such an engaging look of reluctance to leave her husband; on the contrary, he blames her in the strongest language, ἄτλητα τλα̂σα, and represents her as leaving Argos with all the hurry of a common elopement, where both parties are equally willing for the amorous flight, βέβακε ρίμϕα διὰ πυλα̂ν. After which our fancy has nothing to do but imagine her giving her sails to the wind as swiftly as possible, and bounding gaily over the broad back of ocean with her gay paramour. In this connection, to say “shestands,” appears quite out of place. In my view of this “very difficult and all but desperate passage” (Peile) I am supported by Sym. in an able note, which every student ought to read, by Med. and Sew., Buck., Humb., and Droys. Neither is Fr. against me, because, though following a new reading of Hermann,

  • πάρεστι σιγὰς ἀτίμους ἀλοιδόρους
  • ’αισχρωˆς ἀϕειμενων ιδειν,

  he avoids all special allusions to Menelaus, it is evident that the picture of solitary desolation given in his translation can have no reference but to the palace of the king of Sparta—

  • “Ein Schweigen, sieh! voll von Schmach, nicht gebrochen church
  • Vorwurf, beherrscht die Einsamkeit”

  CHOEPHORÆ OR, THE LIBATION-BEARERS
  
  A LYRICO-DRAMATIC SPECTACLE

  • Ἐκ γὰρ Ὀρέσταο τίσις [Editor: illegible character]σσεται Ἀτρέιδαο
  • Ὀπποτ [Editor: illegible character]ν ‘ηβήσ[Editor: illegible character] τε κὰι ἠ̂ς ἱμείρεται ἄιης.

  • Homer.

  • Think upon our father,
  • Give the sword scope—think what a man was he

  • Landoe.

  PERSONS

  Orestes, Son of Agamemnon.

  Pylades, Friend of Orestes

  Chorus of Captive Women.

  Electra, Sister of Orestes.

  Nurse of Orestes.

  Clytemnestra, Mother of Orestes.

  Ægisthus.

  Servant.

  Sceneas in the preceding piece. The Tomb of Agamemnon in the centre of the Stage.

  INTRODUCTORY REMARKS

  “Good, how good, when one who dies unjustly leaves a son behind him To avenge his death!”

  —Odyss. iii. 196,

  As a composition, the Choephoræ is decidedly inferior both to the Agamemnon which precedes, and the Eumenides which follows it; and the poet, as if sensible of this weakness, following the approved tactics of rhetoricians and warriors, has dexterously placed it in a position where its deficiencies are least observed. At the same time, in passing a critical judgment on this piece we must bear in mind two things—first, that some parts of this play that appear languid, long-drawn, and ineffective to us who read, may have been overflowing with the richest emotional power in their living musical exhibition; and, secondly, that many parts, especially of the choral chaunts, have been so maimed and shattered by time that the modern commentator is perhaps as much chargeable with the faults of the translation as the ancient tragedian.

  EnterOrestesandPylades.

  Orest.

  • Hermes, that wieldest underneath the ground
  • What power thy father lent,1 be thou my saviour
  • And my strong help, and grant his heart’s request
  • To the returning exile! On this mound,
  • My father’s tomb, my father I invoke,
  • To hear my cry!
  • * * * * * *
  • * * My early growth of hair
  • To Inachus I vowed;2 this later lock
  • The right of grief for my great sire demands.
  • * * * * *
  • But what is this? what sad procession comes
  • Of marshalled maids in sable mantles clad?
  • What mission brings them? Some new woe that breaks
  • Upon our fated house? Or, do they come
  • To soothe the ancient anger of the dead
  • With sweet libations for my father’s tomb?
  • ’Tis even so for lo! Electra comes—
  • My sister—with them in unblissful grief
  • Pre-eminent. O Jove, be thou mine aid,3
  • And nerve my hand to avenge my father’s wrong!
  • Stand we aside, my Pylades, that we
  • May learn the purpose of the murky pomp.

  [They go aside.

  Chorus,dressed in sable vestments, bearing vessels with libations.

  • STROPHE I.
  • Missioned from these halls I come
  • In the sable pomp of woe,
  • Here to wail and pour libations,
  • with the bosom-beating blow;
  • And my cheeks, that herald sorrow,4
  • With the fresh-cut nail-ploughed furrow,
  • Grief’s vocation show.
  • See! my rent and ragged stole
  • Speaks the conflict of my soul;
  • My vex’d heart on grief is feeding,
  • Night and day withouten rest;
  • Riven with the ruthless mourning,
  • Hangs the linen vest, adorning
  • Woefully my breast.
  • ANTISTROPHE I.
  • Breathing wrath through nightly slumbers,
  • By a dream-encompassed lair,
  • Prophet of the house of Pelops,
  • Terror stands with bristling hair.
  • Through the dark night fitful yelling,
  • He within our inmost dwelling
  • Did the sleeper scare.
  • Heavily, heavily terror falls
  • On the woman-governed halls!
  • And, instinct with high assurance,
  • Speak the wise diviners all;
  • “The dead, the earth-hid dead are fretful,
  • And for vengeance unforgetful,
  • From their graves they call.”
  • STROPHE II.
  • This graceless grace to do, to ward
  • What ills the dream portendeth
  • This pomp—O mother Earth!—and me
  • The godless woman sendeth.
  • Thankless office! Can I dare,
  • Naming thee, to mock the air?
  • Blood that stains with purple track
  • The ground, what price can purchase back?
  • O the hearth beset with mourning!
  • O the proud halls’ overturning!
  • Darkness, blithe sight’s detestation,
  • Sunless sorrow spread
  • Round the house of desolation,
  • Whence the lord is fled.
  • ANTISTROPHE II.
  • The kingly majesty that was
  • The mighty, warlike-hearted,
  • That swayed the general ear and will,
  • The unconquered, hath departed.
  • And now fear rules,5 and we obey,
  • Unwillingly, a loveless sway.
  • Who holds the key of plenty’s portals
  • Is god, and more than god to mortals;
  • But justice from her watchful station,
  • With a sure-winged visitation
  • Swoops; and some in blazing noon
  • She for doom doth mark,
  • Some in lingering eve, and some
  • In the deedless dark.
  • EPODE.
  • When mother Earth hath drunk black gore,
  • Printed on the faithful floor,
  • The staring blot remaineth;
  • There the deep disease is lurking;
  • There thrice double-guilt is working
  • Woes that none restraineth.
  • As virgin-chambers once polluted
  • Never may be pure again,
  • So filthy hands with blood bedabbled6
  • All the streams of all the rivers
  • Flow to wash in vain
  • For me I suffer what I must;
  • By ordinance divine,
  • Since Troy was levelled with the dust
  • The bondman’s fate is mine.
  • What the masters of my fate
  • In their strength decree,7
  • Just or unjust, matters not,
  • Is the law to me.
  • I must look content; and chain
  • Strongest hate with tightest rein;
  • I for my mistress’ woes must wail,
  • And for my own, beneath the veil;8
  • I must sit apart,
  • And thaw with tears my frozen heart,
  • When no eye may see.

  EnterElectra.

  Elect.

  • Ye ministering maids with dexterous heed
  • That tend this household, as with me ye share
  • This pomp of supplication, let me share
  • In your good counsel. Speak, and tell me how,
  • This flood funereal pouring on the tomb,
  • I shall find utterance in well-omened words?
  • Shall I declare me bearer of sweet gifts
  • From a dear wife to her dear lord? I fear
  • To mingle faslehood with libations pure,
  • Poured on my father’s tomb.9 Or shall I pray,
  • As mortals wont to pray, that he may send
  • Just retribution, and a worthy gift
  • Of ill for ill to them that sent these garlands?
  • Or shall I silent stand, nor with my tongue
  • Give honour, as in dumb dishonoured death
  • My father died, and give the Earth to drink
  • A joyless stream, as who throws lustral ashes10
  • With eyes averse, and flings the vase away?
  • Your counsel here I crave; ye are my friends,
  • And bear with me, within these fated halls
  • A common burden. Speak, and no craven fear
  • Lurk in your breasts! The man that lives most free,
  • And him to sternest masterdom enthralled,
  • One fate abides Lend me your wisdom, friends.

  Chorus.

  • Thy father’s tomb shall be to me an altar;
  • As before God I’ll speak the truth to thee.

  Elect.

  Speak thus devoutly, and thou’lt answer well.

  Chorus

  • Give words of seemly honour, as thou pourest,
  • To all that love thy father.

  Elect.

  Who are they?

  Chorus.

  Thyself the first, and whoso hates Ægisthus.

  Elect.

  That is myself and thou.

  Chorus.

  Thyself may’st judge.

  Elect.

  Hast thou none else to swell the scanty roll?

  Chorus.

  One far away, thy brother, add—Orestes.

  Elect.

  ’Tis well remembered, very well remembered.

  Chorus.

  Nor them forget that worked the deed of guilt.

  Elect.

  Ha! what of them? I’d hear of this more nearly.

  Chorus.

  Pray that some god may come, or mortal man.

  Elect.

  Judge or avenger?

  Chorus.

  • Roundly pray the prayer,
  • Some god or man may come to slay the slayer.

  Elect.

  And may I pray the gods such boon as this?

  Chorus.

  • Why not? What other quittance to a foe
  • Than hate repaid with hate, and blow with blow?11

  Elect.

  • [approaching to the tomb of Agamemnon]. Hermes, that
  • swayest underneath the ground,*12
  • Of powers divine, Infernal and Supernal,
  • Most weighty herald, herald me in this,
  • That every subterranean god, and earth,
  • Even mother earth, who gave all things their birth,
  • And nurseth the reviving germs of all,
  • May hear my prayer, and with their sleepless eyes
  • Watch my parental halls. And while I dew
  • Thy tomb with purifying stream, O father,
  • Pity thou me, and on thy loved Orestes
  • With pity look, and to our long lost home
  • Restore us!—us, poor friendless outcasts both,
  • Bartered by her who bore us, and exchanged
  • Thy love for his who was thy murderer.
  • Myself do menial service in this house;
  • Orestes lives in exile; and they twain
  • In riot waste the fruits of thy great toils.
  • Hear thou my prayers, and quickly send Orestes
  • With happy chance to claim his father’s sceptre!
  • And give thou me a wiser heart, and hand
  • More holy-functioned than the mother’s was
  • That bore thy daughter. Thus much for myself,
  • And for my friends. To those that hate my father,
  • Rise thou with vengeance mantled-dark to smite
  • Those justly that unjustly smote the just.
  • These words of evil imprecation dire,13
  • Marring the pious tenor of my prayer,
  • I speak constrained: but thou for me and mine
  • Send good, and only good, to the upper air,
  • The gods being with thee, mother Earth, and Justice
  • With triumph in her train. This prayer receive
  • And these libations. Ye, my friends, the while
  • Let your grief blossom in luxuriant wail,
  • Lifting the solemn pæan of the dead.

  Chorus.

  14

  • Flow! in plashing torrents flow!
  • Wretched grief for wretched master!
  • O’er this heaped mound freely flow,
  • Refuge of my heart’s disaster!
  • O thou dark majestic shade,
  • Hear, O hear me! While anear thee
  • Pours this sorrow-stricken maid
  • The pure libation,
  • May the solemn wail we lift
  • Atone the guilt that taints the gift
  • With desecration!
  • O that some god from Scythia far,
  • To my imploring,
  • Might send a spearman strong in war,
  • Our house restoring!
  • Come Mars, with back-bent bow, thy hail
  • Of arrows pouring,
  • Or with the hilted sword assail,
  • And in the grapple close prevail,
  • Of battle roaring!

  Elect.

  15

  • These mild libations, earth-imbibed, my father
  • Hath now received. Thy further counsel lend.

  Chorus

  In what? Within me leaps my heart for fear.

  Elect

  Seest thou this lock of hair upon the tomb?

  Chorus.

  A man’s hair is it, or a low-zoned maid’s?16

  Elect.

  Few points there are to hit. ’Tis light divining

  Chorus.

  I am thine elder, yet I fain would reap Instruction from young lips

  Elect.

  • If it was clipt
  • From head in Argos, it should be my own.17

  Chorus.

  • For they that should have shorn the mourning lock
  • Are foes, not friends.

  Elect.

  ’Tis like, O strange! how like!

  Chorus.

  Like what? What strange conception stirs thy brain?

  Elect

  • ’Tis like—O strange!—to these same locks I wear.
  • And yet—

  Chorus.

  • Not being yours, there’s none, I know,
  • Can claim it but Orestes.

  Elect.

  • In sooth, ’tis like
  • Trimmed with one plume Orestes was and I

  Chorus.

  But how should he have dared to tread this ground?

  Elect.

  • Belike, he sent it by another’s hand,
  • A votive lock to grace his father’s tomb.

  Chorus.

  • Small solace to my grief, if that he lives,
  • Yet never more may touch his native soil.

  Elect.

  • I, too, as with a bitter wave was lashed,
  • And pierced, as with an arrow, at the sight
  • Of this loved lock; and from my thirsty eyne
  • With troubled overflowings unrestrained
  • The full tide gushes: for none here would dare
  • To gift a lock to Agamemnon’s grave;
  • No citizen, much less the wife that slew him.
  • My mother most unmotherly, her own children
  • With godless hate pursuing, evil-minded:
  • And though to think this wandering lock have graced
  • My brother’s head—even his—my loved Orestes,
  • Were bliss too great, yet will I hold the hope.
  • O that this lock might with articulate voice
  • Pronounce a herald’s tale, and I no more
  • This way and that with dubious thought be swayed!
  • That I might know if from a hostile head
  • ’Twas shorn, and hate it as it hate deserves,
  • Or, if from friends, my sorrows’ fellow make it,
  • The dearest grace of my dear father’s tomb!
  • But the gods know our woes; them we invoke,
  • Whirled to and fro in eddies of dark doubt,
  • Like vessels tempest-tossed. If they will save us,
  • They have the power from smallest seed to raise
  • The goodliest tree. But lo! a further proof18 —
  • Footsteps, a perfect print, that seem to bear
  • A brotherhood with mine! Nay, there are two—
  • This claimed by him, and that by some true friend
  • That shares his wanderings. See, the heel, the sole,
  • Thus measured with my own, prove that they were
  • Both fashioned in one mould ’Tis very strange!
  • I’m racked with doubt, my wits are wandering.

  Orest.

  • [coming forward]. Nay, rather thank the gods! Thy first prayer granted,
  • Pray that fair end may fair beginning follow.19

  Elect.

  Sayest thou? What cause have I to thank the gods?

  Orest.

  Even here before thee stands thine answered prayer.

  Elect.

  One man I wish to see: dost know him—thou?

  Orest.

  Thy wish of wishes is to see Orestes.

  Elect.

  Even so: but wishing answers no man’s prayer.

  Orest.

  • I am the man. No dearer one expect
  • That wears that name.

  Elect.

  Nay, but this is some plot?

  Orest.

  That were to frame a plot against myself.

  Elect.

  Unkind, to scoff at my calamities!

  Orest.

  To scoff at thine, were scoffing at mine own.

  Elect.

  And can it be? Art thou indeed Orestes?

  Orest.

  • My bodily self thou seest, and dost not know!
  • And yet the votive lock shorn from my head,
  • Being to thine, my sister’s hair, conform,
  • And my foot’s print with curious ardour scanned,
  • Could wing thy faith beyond the reach of sense,
  • That thou didst seem to see me! Take the lock,
  • And match it nicely with this mother crop
  • That bore it. More; behold this web,20 the fruit
  • Of thine own toil, the strokes of thine own shuttle,
  • The wild beasts of the woods by thine own hand
  • Empictured! Nay, be calm, and keep thy joy
  • Within wise bounds Too well I know that they
  • Who should be friends here are our bitterest foes.

  Elect.

  • O of my father’s house the chiefest care!
  • Seed of salvation, hope with many tears
  • Bewept, with thy strong arm thou shalt restore
  • Thy father’s house. O my life’s eye, thou dost
  • Four several functions corporate in one
  • Discharge for me! My father thou, and thine
  • The gentler love that should have been my mother’s,
  • My justly hated mother; and in her place,
  • Who died by merciless immolation,* thou
  • Must be my sister, so even as thou art
  • My faithful brother, loved much and revered.
  • May Power and Justice aid thee, mighty Twain,21
  • And a third mightier, Jove supremely great.

  Orest.

  • O Jove, great Jove, of all these things be thou
  • Spectator! And behold the orphan’d brood,
  • Of eagle father strangled in the folds
  • And deadly coil of loathly basilisk!
  • Them sireless see in dire starvation’s gripe,
  • Too weak of wing to bear unto the nest
  • Their father’s prey. So we before thee stand,
  • Myself and this Electra, sire-bereaved,
  • And exiles both from our paternal roof.
  • If we, the chickens of the pious father
  • That crowned thee with much sacrifice, shall fail,
  • Where shalt thou find a hand like his, to offer
  • Gifts from the steaming banquet? If the brood
  • Of the eagle perish, where shall be thy signs,
  • That speak from Heaven persuasive to mankind?
  • If all this royal trunk shall rot, say who,
  • When blood of oxen flows on holidays,
  • Shall stand beside thine altar? O give ear,
  • And of this house so little now, and fallen
  • So low, rebuild the fortunes!

  Chorus.

  • Hush, my children!
  • If ye would save your father’s house, speak softly,
  • Lest some one hear, and, with swift babblement,
  • Inform their ears who rule; whom may I see
  • Flayed on a fire, with streaming pitch well fed!

  Orest.

  • Fear not. The mighty oracle of Loxias,
  • By whose commands I dare the thing I dare,
  • Will not deceive me. He, with shrill-voiced warning,
  • Foretold that freezing pains through my warm liver
  • Should torturing shoot, if backward to avenge
  • My father’s death, and even as he was slain,
  • To slay the slayers, exasperate at the loss22
  • Of my so fair possessions. Thus to do
  • He gave me strict injunction: else myself
  • With terrible pains, of filial zeal remiss,
  • Should pay the fine. The evil-minded Powers
  • Beneath the Earth23 would visit me in wrath,
  • A leprous tetter with corrosive tooth
  • Creep o’er my skin, and fasten on my flesh,
  • And with white scales the white hair grow, defacing
  • My bloom of health; and from my father’s tomb
  • Ripe with avenging ire the Erinnyes
  • Should ruthlessly invade me. Thus he spake,
  • And through the dark his prescient eyebrow arched.24
  • Sharp arrows through the subterranean night,
  • Shot by dear Shades that through the Infernal halls
  • Roam peaceless, madness, and vain fear o’ nights,
  • Prick with sharp goads, and chase from street to street,
  • With iron scourge, the meagre-wasted form
  • Of the Fury-hunted sinner; him no share
  • In festal cup awaits, or hallowed drop
  • Of pure libation;25 the paternal wrath,
  • Hovering unseen, shall drive him from the altar;
  • Him shall no home receive, no lodgment hold,
  • Unhonoured and unfriended he shall die,
  • Withered and mummied with the hot dry plague.
  • Such oracle divine behoves me trust
  • With single faith, or, be I faithless, still
  • The vengeance must be done. All things concur
  • To point my purpose; the divine command
  • My sore heart-grief for a loved father’s death,
  • The press of want, the spoiling of my goods,
  • The shame to see these noble citizens,
  • Proud Troy’s destroyers, basely bent beneath
  • The yoke of two weak women: for he hath
  • A woman’s soul: if not, the proof is near.

  Chorus.

  • Mighty Fates, divinely guiding
  • Human fortunes to their end,
  • Send this man, with Jove presiding,
  • Whither Justice points the way.
  • Words of bitter hatred duly
  • Pay with bitter words for thus
  • With loud cry triumphant shouting
  • Justice pays the sinner’s debt.
  • Blood for blood and blow for blow,
  • Thou shalt reap as thou didst sow;
  • Age to age with hoary wisdom
  • Speaketh thus to men.26

  STROPHE I.

  Orest.

  • O father, wretched father, with what air
  • Of word or deed impelling,
  • Shall I be strong to waft the filial prayer
  • To thy dim distant dwelling?
  • There where in dark, the dead-man’s day, thou liest,27
  • Be our sharp wailing
  • (Grace of the dead, and Hades’ honour highest),
  • With thee prevailing!

  STROPHE II.

  Chorus.

  • Son, the strong-jawed funeral fire
  • Burns not the mind in the smoky pyre;
  • Sleeps, but not forgets the dead
  • To show betimes his anger dread.
  • For the dead the living moan,
  • That the murderer may be known.
  • They who mourn for parent slain
  • Shall not pour the wail in vain,
  • Bright disclosure shall not lack
  • Who through darkness hunts the track.

  ANTISTROPHE I.

  Elect.

  • Hear thou our cries, O father, when for thee
  • The frequent tear is falling;
  • The wailing pair o’er thy dear tomb to thee
  • From their hearts’ depths are calling;
  • The suppliant and the exile at one tomb
  • Their sorrow showering,
  • Helpless and hopeless; mantled round with gloom,
  • Woe overpouring!

  Chorus.

  • Nay, be calm; the god that speaks
  • With voice oracular shall attune
  • Thy throat to happier notes;
  • Instead the voice of wail funereal,
  • Soon the jubilant shout shall shake
  • His father’s halls with joy, and welcome
  • The new friend to his home.

  STROPHE III.

  Orest.

  • If but some Lycian spear, ’neath Ilium’s walls,
  • Had lowly laid thee,
  • A mighty name in the Atridan halls
  • Thou wouldst have made thee!
  • Then hadst thou pitched thy fortune like a star,
  • To son and grandson shining from afar;
  • Beyond the wide-waved sea, the high-heaped mound
  • Had told for ever
  • Thy feats of battle, and with glory crowned
  • Thy high endeavour.

  ANTISTROPHE II.

  Chorus.

  • Ah! would that thou hadst found thy end
  • There, where dear friend fell with friend,
  • And marched with them to Hades dread,
  • The monarch of the awful dead,28
  • Sitting beside the throne with might
  • Of them that rule the realms of night;
  • For thou in life wert monarch true,
  • Expert each kingly deed to do,
  • Leading, with thy persuasive rod,
  • Submissive mortals like a god.

  ANTISTROPHE III.

  Elect.

  • Thou wert a king, no fate it was for thee
  • To die as others
  • ’Neath Ilium’s walls, far, far beyond the sea,
  • With many brothers.
  • Unworthy was the spear to drink thy blood,
  • Where far Scamander rolls his swirling flood.
  • Justly who slew had drawn themselves thy lot,
  • And perished rather,
  • And thou their timeless fate had welcomed, not
  • They thine, my father.

  Chorus.

  • Child, thy grief begetteth visions
  • Brighter than gold, and overtopping
  • Hyperborean bliss.29
  • Ah, here the misery rudely riots,
  • With double lash. These twins, their help
  • Sleeps beneath the ground; and they
  • Who hold dominion here, alas!
  • With unholy sceptre sway.
  • Woe is me! but chiefly woe
  • Children dear to you!

  STROPHE IV.

  Elect.

  • Chiefly to me! Thy words shoot like an arrow,
  • And pierce my marrow.
  • O Jove, O Jove! that sendest from below30
  • The retribution slow,
  • Against the stout heart and bold hand,
  • That dared defy thy high command.
  • Even though a parent feel the woe,
  • Prepare, prepare the finished blow.

  STROPHE V.

  Chorus.

  • Mine be soon to lift the strain,
  • O’er the treacherous slayer slain,
  • To shout with bitter exultation,
  • O’er the murtherous wife’s prostration!
  • Why should I the hate conceal,
  • That spurs my heart with promptest zeal,
  • Bitter thoughts, that gathering grow,
  • Like blustering winds, that beat the plunging vessel’s prow?

  ANTISTROPHE IV.

  Orest.

  • O thou that flourishest, and mak’st to flourish,
  • By thy hands perish
  • All they that hate me! Cleave the heads of those,
  • That are Orestes’ foes!
  • Pledge the land in peace to live,
  • For injustice justice give;
  • Ye that honoured reign below,31
  • Furies! prepare the crowning blow.

  Chorus.

  • Wont hath been, and shall be ever,
  • That when purple gouts bedash
  • The guilty ground, then blood doth blood
  • Demand, and blood for blood shall flow.
  • Fury to Havoc cries, and Havoc,
  • The tainted track of blood pursuing,
  • From age to age works woe.

  STROPHE VI.

  Elect.

  • Ye powers of Hades dread!
  • Fell Curses of the Dead,
  • Hear me when I call!
  • Behold! The Atridan hall,
  • Dashed in dishonoured fall,
  • Lies low and graceless all.
  • O mighty Jove, I see
  • Mine only help in thee!

  ANTISTROPHE V.

  Chorus.

  • Thy piteous tale doth make my heart
  • From its central hold back start;
  • Hope departs, and blackening Fear
  • Rules my fancy, while I hear.
  • And if blithe confidence awhile32
  • Lends my dull faith the feeble smile,
  • Soon, soon departs that glimpse of cheer,
  • And all my map of things is desolate and drear.

  ANTISTROPHE VI.

  Orest.

  • For why! our tale of wrong
  • In hate of parents strong,
  • Spurneth the flatterer’s arm,
  • Mocketh the soothing charm.
  • The mother gave her child33
  • This wolfish nature wild;
  • And I from her shall learn
  • To be thus harsh and stern.

  STROPHE VII.

  Chorus.

  • Like a Persian mourner34
  • Singing sorrow’s tale,
  • Like a Cissian wailer,
  • I did weep and wail.
  • O’er my head swift-oaring
  • Came arm on arm amain,
  • The voice of my deploring
  • Like the lashing rain!
  • Sorrow’s rushing river
  • O’er me flooding spread,
  • Black misfortune’s quiver
  • Emptied on my head!

  Elect.

  • Mother bold, all-daring,
  • On a bloody bier
  • Thine own lord forth bearing
  • Slain without a tear.
  • Alone, unfriended he did go
  • Down to the sunless homes below.

  STROPHE VIII.

  Orest.

  • Thou hast named the dire dishonor;
  • The gods shall send swift judgment on her.
  • By Heaven’s command,
  • By her own son’s hand,
  • Slain she shall lie;
  • And I, having dealt the fated death,
  • Myself shall die!

  ANTISTROPHE VII.

  Elect.

  • Be the butcher’s work remembered,
  • Mangled was he, and dismembered;
  • Like vilest clay,
  • She cast him away,
  • With burial base;
  • Mocking the son, the father branding
  • With dark disgrace.

  ANTISTROPHE VIII.

  Orest.

  • Thou dost tell too truly
  • All my father’s woe.

  Elect.

  • I, the while, accounted
  • Lower than most low,35
  • Like a dog, was sundered
  • From my father’s hearth,
  • An evil dog, and wandered
  • Far from seats of mirth;
  • In my chamber weeping
  • Tears of silent woe,
  • From rude gazers keeping
  • Grief too great for show.
  • Hear these words; and hearing
  • Nail them in thy soul,
  • With steady purpose nearing,
  • And noiseless pace, thy goal.
  • Go where just wrath leads the way,
  • With stout heart tread the lists to-day.

  STROPHE IX.

  Orest.

  O father, help thy friends, when helping thee!

  Elect.

  My tears, if they can help, shall flow for thee.

  Chorus.

  • And this whole mingled choir shall raise for thee
  • The sistered cry: O hear!
  • In light of day appear,
  • And help thy banded friends, to avenge thy foes for thee!

  ANTISTROPHE IX.

  Orest.

  Now might with might engage, and right with right!

  Elect.

  And the gods justly the unjust shall smite.

  Chorus.

  36

  • The tremulous fear creeps o’er my frame to hear
  • Thy words; for, though long-dated,
  • The thing divinely fated
  • Shall surely come at last, our cloudy prayers to clear.

  STROPHE X.

  Elect.

  • O home-bred pain,
  • Stroke of perdition that refuses
  • Concord with the holy Muses!
  • O burden more than heart can bear,
  • Disease that no physician’s care
  • Makes sound again!

  ANTISTROPHE X.

  Orest.

  • So; even so.
  • No far-sent leech this tetter uses;
  • A home-bred surgery it chooses.
  • I the red strife myself pursue,
  • Pouring this dismal hymn to you,
  • Ye gods below!

  Chorus.

  • Blessed powers, propitious dwelling,
  • Deep in subterranean darkness,
  • Hear this pious prayer;
  • May all trials end in triumph
  • To the suppliant pair!

  Orest.

  • Father, who died not as a king should die,
  • Give me to rule, as thou didst rule, these halls.

  Elect.

  • My supplication hear, thy strong help lend me,
  • Scathless myself37 to work Ægisthus’ harm.

  Orest.

  • Thus of the rightful feasts that soothe the Shades
  • Thou too shalt taste,38 and not dishonoured lie,
  • When savoury fumes mount to our country’s dead.

  Elect.

  • And I my whole of heritage will offer,
  • The blithe libations of my marriage feast.
  • Thy tomb before all tombs I will revere.

  Orest.

  • O Earth, relax thy hold, and give my father
  • To see the fight!

  Elect.

  • O Persephassa,* send
  • The Atridan forth, in beauty clad and strength.

  Orest.

  The bath that drank thy life remember, father.

  Elect.

  The close-drawn meshes of thy death remember.

  Orest.

  • The chain, not iron-linked, that bound thee, then
  • When to the death the kingly game was hunted.

  Elect.

  Then when with treacherous folds they curtained thee.

  Orest.

  Wake, father, wake to avenge thy speechless wrongs!

  Elect.

  Lift, father, lift thy dear-loved head sublime!

  Orest.

  • Send justice forth to work the just revenge,
  • Like quit with like, and harm with harm repay;
  • Thou wert the conquered then, rise now to conquer.

  Elect.

  • And hear this last request, my father, looking
  • On thy twin chickens nestling by thy tomb;
  • Pity the daughter, the male seed protect,
  • Nor let the name revered of ancient Pelops
  • Be blotted from the Earth! Thou art not dead,
  • Though housed in Hades, while thy children live,
  • For children are as echoes that prolong
  • Their parents’ fame; the floating cork are they
  • That buoyant bear the net deep sunk in the sea.
  • Hear, father—when we weep, we weep for thee,
  • And, saving us, thou savest thine own honour.

  Chorus.

  • Well spoken both:39 and worthily fall the tears
  • On this dear tomb, too long without them. Now,
  • If to the deed thy purpose thou hast buckled,
  • Orestes, try what speed the gods may give thee.40

  Orest.

  • I’ll do the deed. Meanwhile not idly this
  • I ask of thee—what moved her soul to send
  • These late libations, limping remedy
  • For wounds that cannot heal? A sorry grace
  • To feed the senseless dead with sacrifice,
  • When we have killed the living. What she means
  • I scarce may guess, but the amend is less
  • Than the offence. All ocean poured in offering
  • For the warm life-drops of one innocent man
  • Is labour lost. Old truth thus speaks to all.
  • How was it?

  Chorus.

  • That I well may tell, for I
  • Was with her. Hideous dreams did haunt her sleep;
  • Night-wandering terrors scared her godless breast,
  • That she did send these gifts to soothe the Shades.

  Orest.

  What saw she in her dream?

  Chorus.

  • She dreamt, she said,
  • She had brought forth a serpent.

  Orest.

  A serpent, say’st thou?

  Chorus.

  • Ay! and the dragon birth portentous moved,
  • All swaddled like a boy.

  Orest.

  Eager for food, doubtless, the new-born monster?

  Chorus.

  The nurturing nipple herself did fearless bare.

  Orest.

  How then? escaped the nipple from the bite?

  Chorus.

  • The gouted blood did taint the milk, that flowed
  • From the wounded paps.

  Orest.

  • No idle dream was this.
  • And he who sent it was my father.

  Chorus.

  • Then
  • She from her sleep up started, and cried out,
  • And many lamps, whose splendour night had blinded,
  • Rushed forth, to wait upon their mistress’ word.
  • Straightway she sends us with funereal gifts,
  • A medicinal charm, if medicine be
  • For griefs like hers!

  Orest.

  • Now hear me, Earth profound,
  • And my dear father’s tomb, that so this dream
  • May find in me completion! Thus I read it—
  • As left the snake the womb that once hid me,
  • And in the clothes was swathed that once swathed me
  • And as it sucked the breast that suckled me,
  • And mingled blood with milk once sucked by me,
  • And as she groaned with horror at the sight,
  • Thus it beseems who bore a monstrous birth
  • No common death to die. I am the serpent
  • Shall bite her breast. It is a truthful dream.
  • My seer be thou. Say have I read it well?

  Chorus.

  • Bravely. Now, for the rest, thy friends instruct
  • What things to do, and what things to refrain.

  Orest.

  • ’Tis said in few. Electra, go within,
  • And keep my counsels in wise secrecy;
  • For, as they killed an honourable man
  • Deceitfully, by cunning and deceit
  • Themselves shall find the halter. Thus Apollo,
  • A prophet never known to lie, foretold.
  • Myself will come, like a wayfaring man
  • Accoutred, guest and spear-guest of this house,*
  • With Pylades, my friend, to the court gates.
  • We both will speak with a Parnassian voice,
  • Aping the Phocian tongue. If then it chance
  • (As seems most like, for this whole house with ills
  • Is sheer possessed)41 that with a welcome greeting
  • No servant shall receive us, we will wait
  • Till some one pass, and for their churlish ways
  • Rate them thus sharply. “Sirs, why dare ye shut
  • Inhospitable doors against the stranger,42
  • Making Ægisthus sin against the gods?”
  • When thus I pass the threshold of his courts,
  • And see him sitting on my father’s throne,
  • When he shall scan me face to face, and seek
  • To hear my tale; ere he may say the word,
  • Whence is the stranger? I will lay him dead,
  • Dressing him trimly o’er with points of steel.
  • The Fury thus, not scanted of her banquet,
  • Shall drink unmingled blood from Pelops’ veins,
  • The third and crowning cup.43 Now, sister, see to ’t
  • That all within be ordered, as shall serve
  • My end most fitly. Ye, when ye shall speak,
  • Speak words of happy omen; teach your tongue
  • Both to be silent, and to speak in season.
  • For what remains, his present aid I ask,
  • Who laid on my poor wits this bloody task.44

  [Exeunt.

  • CHORAL HYMN.
    STROPHE I.
  • Earth breeds a fearful progeny,45
  • To man a hostile band,
  • With finny monsters teems the sea,
  • With creeping plagues the land;
  • And winged portents scour mid-air,
  • And flaring lightnings fly,
  • And storms, sublimely coursing, scare
  • The fields of the silent sky.
  • ANTISTROPHE I.
  • But Earth begets no monster dire
  • Than man’s own heart more dreaded,
  • All-venturing woman’s dreadful ire,46
  • When love to woe is wedded.
  • No mate with mate there gently dwells,
  • There peace and joy depart,
  • Where loveless love triumphant swells,
  • In fearless woman’s heart.
  • STROPHE II.
  • This the light-witted may not know,
  • The wise shall understand,
  • Who hear the tale from age to age,
  • How Thestios’ daughter, wild with rage,47
  • Lighted the fatal brand,
  • The brand that burned with conscious flashes
  • At the cry of her new-born son;
  • And, when the brand had burned to ashes,
  • His measured course was run.
  • ANTISTROPHE II.
  • And yet a tale of bloody love
  • From hoary eld I know,
  • How Scylla gay, in gold arrayed,48
  • The gift of Minos old, betrayed
  • Her father to the foe.
  • Sleeping all careless as he lay,
  • She cut the immortal hair,
  • And Hermes bore his life away,
  • From the bold and blushless fair.
  • STROPHE III.
  • Ah me! not far needs fancy range
  • For tales of harshest wrong:
  • Here, even here, damned wedlock thrives,
  • And lawless loves are strong.
  • Within these halls, where blazes now
  • No holy hearth, a bloody vow
  • Against her liege lord’s life
  • She vowed; and he, the king divine,
  • Whose look back-drove the bristling line,
  • Bled by a woman’s knife.
  • ANTISTROPHE III.
  • O woman! woman! Lemnos saw49
  • Your jealous fountains flow,
  • And, when the worst of woes is named,
  • It is a Lemnian woe.
  • From age to age the infected tale,
  • Far echoed by a wandering wail,
  • To East and West shall go;
  • And honor from the threshold hies,
  • On which the doom god-spoken lies;50
  • Speak I not wisely so?
  • STROPHE IV.
  • Right through the heart shall pierce the blow,
  • When Justice is the sinner’s foe,
  • With the avenging steel;
  • In vain with brief success they strove,
  • Who trampled on the law of Jove,
  • With unregarding heel.
  • ANTISTROPHE IV.
  • Firm is the base of Justice. Fate,
  • With whetted knife, doth eager wait
  • At hoary Murder’s door;
  • The Fury, with dark-bosomed ire,
  • Doth send the son a mission dire,
  • To clear the parent’s score.

  EnterOrestes.

  Orest.

  • What, ho! dost hear no knocking? boy! within!
  • Is none within, boy? ho! dost hear me call
  • The third time at thy portal? Is Ægisthus
  • A man, whose ears are deaf to the strangers’ cry?

  Ser.

  [appearing at the door]. Enough I hear thee. Who art thou, and whence?

  Orest.

  • Tell those within that a poor stranger waits
  • Before the gate, bearer of weighty news.
  • Speed thee; night’s dusky chariot swoopeth down,
  • And the dark hour invites the travelling man
  • To fix his anchor ’neath some friendly roof.
  • Thy mistress I would see, if here a mistress
  • Rules, or thy master rather, if a master.
  • For with a man a man may plainly deal,
  • But nice regard for the fine feeling ear51
  • Oft mars the teller’s tale, when women hear.

  EnterClytemnestra.

  Clytem

  • Strangers, speak your desire. Whate’er becomes
  • This house to give is free to you to share.
  • Hot baths,52 a couch to soothe your travelled toil,
  • Blithe welcoming eyes, and gentle tendance; these
  • I freely give. If aught beyond ye crave,
  • There’s counsel with my lord. I’ll speak to him.

  Orest.

  • I am a stranger come from Phocian Daulis.
  • When I, my burden to my back well saddled,
  • Stood for the road accoutred, lo! a man
  • To me not known, nor of me knowing more,
  • But seeing only that my feet were bound
  • For Argos, thus accosted me (his name,
  • I learned, was Strophius the Phocian): Stranger,
  • If Argos be thy purpose, bear this message
  • From me to whom it touches near. Orestes
  • Is dead; charge well thy memory with the tale,
  • And bring me mandate back, if so his friends
  • Would have him carried to his native home,
  • Or he with us due sepulture shall find,
  • A sojourner for ever. A brazen urn
  • Holds all the remnant of the much-wept man,
  • The ashes of his clay. Thus Strophius spake:
  • And if ye are the friends, whom chiefly grief
  • Pricks for his loss, my mission’s done; at least
  • His parents will be grieved to hear ’t.

  Elect.

  53

  • Woe’s me!
  • Sheer down we topple from proud height; harsh fate
  • Is ours to wrestle with. O jealous Curse,
  • How dost thou eye us fatal from afar,
  • And with thy well-trimmed bow shoot chiefly there
  • Where thou wert least suspect! Thou hast me now
  • A helpless captive lorn, and reft of all
  • My trustiest friends. Orestes also gone,
  • Whose feet above the miry slough most sure
  • Seemed planted! Now our revelry of hope,
  • The fair account that should have surgeoned woe,
  • Is audited at nothing!54

  Orest.

  • Would the gods,
  • Where happy hosts give welcome, I were guest
  • On a more pleasant tale! The entertained
  • No greater joy can know than with good news
  • To recreate his entertainer’s ears;
  • But piety forbade, nor faith allowed
  • To lop the head of truth.

  Clytem.

  • Thou shalt not fare the worse for thy bad news,
  • Nor be less dear to us. Hadst thou been dumb,
  • Some other tongue had vented the sad tale.
  • But ye have travelled weary leagues to-day,
  • And doubtless need restoring. Take him, boy,
  • With the attendant sharers of his travel,
  • To the men’s chambers. See them well bestowed,
  • And do all things as one, that for neglect
  • Shall give account. Meanwhile, our lord shall know
  • What fate hath chanced, his wit and mine shall find
  • What solace may be for these news unkind.

  [Exeunt into the house.

  Chorus.

  • When, O when, shall we, my sisters,
  • Lift the strong full-throated hymn,
  • To greet Orestes’ triumph? Thou,
  • O sacred Earth, and verge revered
  • Of this lofty mound, where sleeps
  • The kingly helmsman of our State,
  • Hear thou, and help! prevail the hour
  • Of suasive wile, and smooth deceit!55
  • Herald him Hermes—lead him, thou
  • The nightly courier of the dead,56
  • Through this black business of the sword!
  • In sooth the host hath housed a grievous guest;
  • For see where comes Orestes’ nurse, all tears!
  • Where goest thou, nurse, beyond our gates to walk,
  • And why walks Grief, an unfee’d page, with thee!

  EnterNurse.

  Nurse.

  • My mistress bids me bring Ægisthus quickly,
  • To see the strangers face to face, that he
  • May of their sad tale more assurance win
  • From their own mouths. Herself to us doth show
  • A murky-visaged grief; but in her eye
  • Twinkles a secret joy, that time hath brought
  • The consummation most devoutly wished
  • By her—to us and Agamemnon’s house
  • Most fatal issue, if these news be true.
  • Ægisthus, too, with a light heart will hear
  • These Phocian tidings. O wretched me! what weight
  • Of mingled woes from sire to son bequeathed,
  • Have the gods burdened us withal! Myself,
  • How many griefs have shaken my old heart;
  • But this o’ertops them all! The rest I bore,
  • As best I might, with patience: but Orestes,
  • My own dear boy, my daily, hourly care,
  • Whom from his mother’s womb these breasts did suckle—
  • How often did I rise o’ nights, and walked
  • From room to room, to soothe his baby cries;
  • But all my nursing now, and all my cares
  • Fall fruitless. ’Tis a pithless thing a child,
  • No forest whelp so helpless; one must even
  • Wait on its humour, as the hour may bring.
  • No voice it has to speak its fitful wants,
  • When hunger, thirst, or Nature’s need commands.
  • The infant’s belly asks no counsel. I
  • Was a wise prophetess to all his wants,
  • Though sometimes false, as others are. I was
  • Nurse to the child, and fuller to its clothes,
  • And both to one sad end. Alack the day!
  • This double trade with little fruit I plied,
  • What time I nursed Orestes for his father;
  • For he is dead, and I must live to hear it.
  • But I must go, and glad his heart, who lives
  • Plague of this house, with news that make me weep.

  Chorus.

  What say’st thou, Nurse? how shall thy master come?

  Nurse.

  How say’st thou? how shall I receive the question?

  Chorus.

  Alone, I mean, or with his guards?

  Nurse.

  • She says
  • His spearmen shall attend him.

  Chorus.

  • Not so, Nurse!
  • If thou dost hate our most hate-worthy master,
  • Tell him to come alone, without delay,
  • To hear glad tidings with exulting heart.
  • The bearer of a tale can make it wear
  • What face he pleases.57

  Nurse.

  • Well! if thou mean’st well,
  • Perhaps—

  Chorus.

  • Perhaps that Jove may make the breeze
  • Yet veer to us.

  Nurse.

  • How so? Our only hope,
  • Orestes, is no more.

  Chorus.

  • Softly, good Nurse;
  • Thou art an evil prophet, if thou say’st so.

  Nurse.

  How? hast thou news to a different tune?

  Chorus.

  • Go! go!
  • Mind thine own business, and the gods will do
  • What thing they will do.

  Nurse.

  • Well! I’ll do thy bidding!
  • The gods lead all things to a fair conclusion!
  • CHORAL HYMN.58
    STROPHE I.
  • O thou, o’er all Olympian gods that be,
  • Supremely swaying,
  • With words of wisdom, when I pray to thee,
  • Inspire my praying.
  • We can but pray; to do, O Jove, is thine,
  • Thou great director;
  • Of him within, who works thy will divine,
  • Be thou protector!
  • Him raise, the orphaned son whom thou dost see
  • In sheer prostration;
  • Twofold and threefold he shall find from thee
  • Just compensation.
  • ANTISTROPHE I.
  • But hard the toil. Yoked to the car of Fate,
  • When harshly driven,
  • O rein him thou! his goaded speed abate
  • Wisely from Heaven!
  • Jove tempers all, steadies all things that reel;
  • When wildly swerveth
  • From the safe line life’s burning chariot wheel,
  • His hand preserveth.
  • Ye gods, that guard these gold-stored halls, this day
  • Receive the claimant,
  • Who comes, that old Wrong to young Right may pay
  • A purple payment.
  • STROPHE II.
  • Blood begets blood; but, when this blow shall fall,
  • O thou, whose dwelling
  • Is Delphi’s fuming throat, may this be all!
  • Of red blood, welling
  • From guilty veins, enough. Henceforth may joy
  • Look from the eyes of the Atridan boy,
  • Discerning clearly
  • From his ancestral halls the clouds unrolled,
  • That hung so drearly.
  • ANTISTROPHE II.
  • And thou, O Maia’s son,* fair breezes blow,
  • The full sail swelling!
  • Cunning art thou through murky ways to go,
  • To Death’s dim dwelling;
  • Dark are the doings of the gods; and we,
  • When they are clearest shown, but dimly see;
  • Yet faith will follow
  • Where Hermes leads, the leader of the dead,
  • And thou, Apollo.
  • EPODE.
  • Crown ye the deed; then will I freely pour
  • The blithe libation,
  • And, with pure offerings, cleanse the Atridan floor
  • From desecration!
  • Then with my prosperous hymn the lyre shall blend
  • Its kindly chorus,
  • And Argos shall be glad, and every friend
  • Rejoice before us!
  • Gird thee with manhood, boy; though hard to do,
  • It is thy father’s work; to him be true.
  • And, when she cries—Son, wilt thou kill thyMother?
  • Cry—Father, Father! and with that name smother
  • The rising ruth. As Perseus, when he slew
  • The stony Dread,* was stony-hearted, do
  • Thy mission stoutly;
  • For him below, and her above,† pursue
  • This work devoutly.
  • The gods by thee, in righteous judgment, show
  • Their grace untender!
  • Thou to the man, that dealt the deathful blow,
  • Like death shalt render.

  EnterÆgisthus.

  Ægis.

  • Not uninvited come I, having heard
  • A rumour strange, by certain strangers brought,
  • No pleasant tale—Orestes’ death. In sooth,
  • A heavy fear-distilling sorrow this,
  • More than a house may bear, whose wounds yet bleed,
  • And ulcerate from the fangs of fate. But say,
  • Is this a fact that looks us in the face,
  • Or startling words of woman’s fears begotten,
  • That shoot like meteors through the air, and die?
  • What proof, ye maids, what proof?

  Chorus.

  • Our ears have heard.
  • But go within; thyself shalt see the man;
  • Try well the teller, e’er thou trust the tale.

  Ægis.

  • I’ll scan him well, and prove him close, if he
  • Himself was at the death, or but repeat
  • From blind report the news another told.
  • It will go hard, if idle breath cheat me.
  • My eyes are in my head, and I can see.

  [Exit into the house.

  Chorus.

  • Jove! great Jove! What shall I say?
  • How with pious fervour pray,
  • That from thee the answer fair
  • Be wafted to my friendly prayer?
  • Now the keen-edged axe shall strike,
  • With a life-destroying blow;
  • Now, or, plunged in deep perdition,
  • Agamemnon’s house sinks low,
  • Or the hearth with hope this day
  • Shall blaze, through all the ransomed halls,
  • And the son his father’s wealth
  • Shall win, and with his sceptre sway.
  • In the bloody combat fresh,
  • He shall risk it, one with two;
  • Hand to hand the fight shall be.
  • Godlike son of Agamemnon,
  • Jove give strength to thee!

  Ægis.

  [from within]. Ah me! I fall. Ah! Ah!

  Chorus.

  • Hear’st thou that cry? How is’t? Whose was that groan?
  • Let’s go aside, the deed being done, that we
  • Seem not partakers of the bloody work.59
  • ’Tis ended now.

  EnterServant.

  Serv.

  • Woe’s me! my murdered master!
  • Thrice woeful deed! Ægisthus lives no more.
  • Open the women’s gates! uncase the bolts!
  • Were needed here a Titan’s strength—though that
  • Would nothing boot the dead. Ho! hillo! ho!
  • Are all here deaf? or do I babble breath
  • In sleepers’ ears? Where, where is Clytemnestra?
  • What keeps my mistress? On a razor’s edge
  • Her fate now lies; the blow’s already poised,
  • That falls on her too—nor unjustly falls.

  EnterClytemnestra.

  Clytem.

  Well! what’s the matter? why this clamorous cry?

  Serv.

  He, who was dead, has slain the quick. ’Tis so.

  Clytem.

  • Ha! Thou speak’st riddles; but I understand thee.
  • We die by guile, as guilefully we slew.
  • Bring me an axe! an axe to kill a man!
  • Quickly!—or conqueror or conquered, I
  • Will fight it out. To this ’tis come at last.

  EnterOrestes,dragging in the dead body ofÆgisthus;with himPylades.

  Orest.

  Thee next I seek. For him, he hath enough.

  Clytem.

  Ah me! my lord, my loved Ægisthus dead!

  Orest.

  • Dost love this man? then thou shalt sleep with him,
  • In the same tomb. He was thy bedmate living,
  • Be thou his comrade, dead.

  Clytem.

  • Hold thee, my son!
  • Look on this breast, to which with slumbrous eyes
  • Thou oft hast clung, the while thy baby gum
  • Sucked the nutritious milk.

  Orest.

  • What say’st thou, Pylades?
  • Shall I curtail the work, and spare my mother?

  Pyl.

  • Bethink thee well; the Loxian oracles,
  • Thy sure-pledged vows, where are they, if she live?
  • Make every man thy foe, but fear the gods.

  Orest.

  • Thy voice shall rule in this; thou judgest wisely.
  • Follow this man, here, side by side with him,
  • I’ll butcher thee. Seemed he a fairer man
  • Than was my father when my father lived?
  • Sleep thou, where he sleeps; him thou lovest well,
  • And whom thou chiefly shouldst have loved thou hatedst.

  Clytem.

  I nursed thy childhood, and in peace would die.60

  Orest.

  Spare thee to live with me—my father’s murderer?

  Clytem.

  Not I; say rather Fate ordained his death.

  Orest.

  The self-same Fate ordains thee now to die.

  Clytem.

  My curse beware, the mother’s curse that bore thee.

  Orest

  That cast me homeless from my father’s house.

  Clytem.

  Nay; to a friendly house I lent thee, boy.

  Orest.

  Being free-born, I like a slave was sold.

  Clytem.

  I trafficked not with thee. I gat no gold.

  Orest.

  Worse—worse than gold—a thing too foul to name!

  Clytem.

  Name all my faults; but had thy father none?

  Orest.

  • Thou art a woman sitting in thy chamber.61
  • Judge not the man that goes abroad, and labours.

  Clytem.

  Hard was my lot, my child, alone, uncherished.

  Orest.

  • Alone by the fire, while for thy gentle ease
  • The husband toiled.

  Clytem.

  Thou wilt not kill me, son?

  Orest.

  I kill thee not. Thyself dost kill thyself.

  Clytem.

  Beware thy mother’s anger-whetted hounds.*

  Orest.

  My father’s hounds have hunted me to thee.

  Clytem.

  • The stone that sepulchres the dead art thou,
  • And I the tear on’t.

  Orest.

  • Cease: I voyaged here,
  • With a fair breeze; my father’s murder brought me.

  Clytem.

  Ah me! I nursed a serpent on my breast.

  Orest.

  62

  • Thou hadst a prophet in thy dream, last night;
  • And since thou kill’d the man thou shouldst have spared,
  • The man, that now should spare thee, can but kill.

  [He drives her into the house, and there murders her.

  Chorus.

  • There’s food for sorrow here; but rather, since
  • Orestes could not choose but scale the height
  • Of bloody enterprise, our prayer is this:
  • That he, the eye of this great house, may live.63
  • CHORAL HYMN.
    STROPHE I.
  • Hall of old Priam, with sorrow unbearable,
  • Vengeance hath come on the Argive thy foe;
  • A pair of grim lions, a double Mars terrible,64
  • Comes to his palace, that levelled thee low.
  • Chanced hath the doom of the guilty precisely,
  • Even as Phœbus foretold it, and wisely
  • Where the god pointed, was levelled the blow.
  • Lift up the hymn of rejoicing; the lecherous,
  • Sin-laden tyrant shall lord it no more;
  • No more shall the mistress so bloody and treacherous
  • Lavish the plundered Pelopidan store.
  • STROPHE II.
  • Sore chastisement65 came on the doomed and devoted,
  • With dark-brooding purpose and fair-smiling show;
  • And the daughter of Jove the eternal was noted,
  • Guiding the hand that inflicted the blow—
  • Bright Justice, of Jove, the Olympian daughter;
  • But blasted they fell with the breath of her slaughter
  • Whose deeds of injustice made Justice their foe.
  • Her from his shrine sent the rock-throned Apollo,66
  • The will of her high-purposed sire to obey,
  • The track of the blood-stained remorseless to follow,
  • Winged with sure death, though she lag by the way.
  • EPODE.
  • Ye rulers on Earth, fear the rulers in Heaven,
  • No aid by the gods to the froward is given;
  • For the bonds of our thraldom asunder are riven,
  • And the day dawns clear.
  • Lift up your heads; from prostration untimely
  • Ye halls of the mighty be lifted sublimely!
  • All-perfecting Time shall bring swift restitution,
  • And cleanse the hearth pure from the gory pollution,
  • Now the day dawns clear.
  • And blithely shall welcome them Fortune the fairest,67
  • The brother and sister, with omens the rarest;
  • Each friend of this house show the warm love thou bearest,
  • Now the day dawns clear!

  EnterOrestes,with the body ofClytemnestra.

  Orest.

  • Behold this tyrant pair, my father’s murderers,
  • Usurpers of this land, and of this house
  • Destroyers. They this throne did use in pride,
  • And now in love, as whoso looks may guess,
  • They lie together, all their vows fulfilled.
  • Death to my hapless father, and to lie
  • Themselves on a common bier—this was their vow;
  • And they have vowed it well. Behold these toils,
  • Wherewith they worked destruction to my father,
  • Chained his free feet, and manacled his hands.
  • There—spread it forth—approach—peruse it nicely.
  • This mortal vest, that so the father—not
  • My father, but the Sun that fathers all
  • With light68 —may see what godless deed was done
  • Here by my mother. Let him witness duly,
  • That not unjustly I have spilt this blood—
  • My mother’s; for Ægisthus recks me not;
  • As an adulterer should, he died: but she,
  • That did devise such foul detested wrong
  • Against the lord, to whom beneath her zone
  • She bore a burden, once so valued, now
  • A weight that damns her; what was she?—a viper
  • Or a torpedo—that with biteless touch
  • Strikes numb who handles.69 Harsh the smoothest phrase
  • To name the bold unrighteous will she used.
  • And for this fowler’s net—this snare—this trap—
  • This cloth to wrap the dead70 —this veil to curtain
  • A bloody bath—teach me a name for it!
  • Such murderous toils the ruffians use, who spill
  • Their neighbour’s blood, that they may seize his gold,
  • And warm their heart with plenty not their own.
  • Lodge no such mate with me! Sooner may I
  • Live by high Heaven accursed, and childless die.

  Chorus.

  • A sorry work—alas! alas!
  • A dismal death she found.
  • Nor sorrow quite from man may pass
  • That lives above the ground.

  Orest.

  • A speaking proof! Behold, Ægisthus’ sword
  • Hath left its witness on this robe; the time
  • Hath paled the murtherous spot, but where it was
  • The sumptuous stole hath lost its radiant dye.
  • Alas! I know not, when mine eyes behold
  • This father-murdering web, if I should own
  • Joy lord, or grief. Let grief prevail. I grieve
  • Our crimes, our woes, our generation doomed,
  • Our tearful trophies blazoned with a curse.

  Chorus.

  • The gods so will that, soon or late,
  • Each mortal taste of sorrow;
  • A frown to-day from surly Fate,
  • A biting blast to-morrow.

  Orest.

  • Others ’twixt hope and fear may sway, my fate
  • Is fixed and scapeless.71 Like a charioteer,
  • Dragged from his course by steeds that spurned the rein,
  • Thoughts past control usurp me. Terror lifts,
  • Even now, the prelude to her savage hymn,
  • Within my heart exultant. But, while yet
  • My sober mind remains, witness ye all
  • My friends, this solemn abjuration! Not
  • Unjustly, when I slew, I slew my mother—
  • That mother, with my father’s blood polluted,
  • Of every god abhorred. And I protest
  • The god that charmed me to the daring point
  • Was Loxias, with his Pythian oracles,
  • Pledging me blameless, this harsh work once done,
  • Not done, foredooming what I will not say;
  • All thoughts most horrible undershoot the mark.
  • And now behold me, as a suppliant goes,
  • With soft-wreathed wool, and precatory branch,72
  • Addressed for Delphi, the firm-seated shrine
  • Of Loxias, navel of earth, where burns the flame
  • Of fire immortal named.73 For I must flee
  • This kindred blood, and hie me where the god
  • Forespoke me refuge. Once again I call
  • On you, and Argive men of every time,
  • To witness my great griefs. I go an exile
  • From this dear soil. Living, or dead, I leave
  • These words, the one sad memory of my name.

  Chorus.

  • Thou hast done well; yoke not thy mouth this day
  • To evil words. Thou art the liberator
  • Of universal Argos, justly greeted,
  • Who from the dragon pair the head hath lopped.

  [TheFuriesappear in the background.

  Orest.

  • Ah, me! see there! like Gorgons! look! look there!
  • All dusky-vested, and their locks entwined
  • With knotted snakes. Away! I may not stay.

  Chorus.

  • O son, loved of thy sire, be calm, nor let
  • Vain phantoms fret thy soul, in triumph’s hour.

  Orest.

  • These are no phantoms, but substantial horrors;
  • Too like themselves they show, the infernal hounds
  • Sent from my mother!

  Chorus.

  • ’Tis the fresh-gouted blood
  • Upon thy hand, that breeds thy brain’s distraction.

  Orest.

  • Ha! how they swarm! Apollo! more—yet more!
  • And from their fell eyes droppeth murderous gore.

  Chorus.

  • There is atonement.74 Touch but Loxias’ altar,
  • And he from bloody stain shall wash thee clean.

  Orest.

  • Ye see them not. I see them.75 There!—Away!
  • The hell-hounds hunt me: here I may not stay.

  Chorus.

  • Nay, but with blessing go. From fatal harm
  • Guard thee the god whose eyes in love behold thee!76
  • Blown hath now the third harsh tempest,
  • O’er the proud Atridan palace,
  • Floods of family woe!
  • First thy damned feast, Thyestes,
  • On thy children’s flesh abhorrent;
  • Then the kingly man’s prostration,
  • And thy warlike pride, Achaia,
  • Butchered in a bath,
  • Now he, too, our greeted Saviour
  • Red with this new woe!
  • When shall Fate’s stern work be ended,
  • When shall cease the boisterous vengeance,
  • Hushed in slumbers low?

  NOTES TO THE CHOEPHORÆ

  Here we have a notable example of the terms of that sort of excommunication which the religious and social feeling of the ancients passed against the perpetrators of atrocious crimes. See Introductory Remarks to the Eumenides.

  • “προς γαρ Διος ἐισιν ἂπαντες
  • ξεινοί τε πτωχοί τε.”
  • ἄλγεα
  • Πολλὰ μἀλ’ δσσα τε μητρὸς Ἐριννύες ἐκτελέουσιν.

  • Odyssey xi. 289.

  • My solitude is solitude no more,
  • But peopled with the Furies

  • Byron.

  PERSONS

  The Pythoness of the Temple of Apollo in Delphi.

  Apollo.

  Hermes (Mute).

  The Shade of Clytemnestra.

  Chorus of Furies.

  Pallas Athena.

  Judges of the Court of Areopagus (Mute).

  Convoy of the Furies.

  Scene—First at Delphi in the Temple of Apollo; then on the Hill of Mars, Athens.

  INTRODUCTORY REMARKS

  Πολλὰ κατηρατο, στυγερὰς δ’ ἐπίκεκλετ Εριννῠς,

  In order to understand thoroughly the situation of the matricide Orestes, in the present play, we must consider further the ancient doctrine of pollution attaching to an act of murder, and the consequent necessity of purification to the offender. The nature of this is distinctly set forth by Orestes himself in a reply to his sister Iphigenia, put into his mouth by Euripides. “Loxias,” he says, “first sent me to Athens, and

  • There first arrived, no host would entertain me,
  • As being hated of the immortal gods,
  • And some, who pitied me, before me placed
  • Cold entertainment on a separate board;
  • Beneath the same roof though I lodged with them,
  • No interchange of living voice I knew,
  • But sat apart and ate my food alone.”

  • Iphig. Taur. 954.

  Like an unclean leper among the Jews, the man polluted with human blood wandered from land to land, as with a Cain’s mark upon his brow, and every fellow-being shrank from his touch as from a living plague.

  • “For wisely thus our ancestors ordained,
  • That the blood-tainted man should know no joy
  • From sight of fellow-mortal or from touch,
  • But with an horrid sanctitude protected
  • Range the wide earth an exile.”

  • Eurip. Orest. 512.

  But Æschylus is not a patriot only, and a pious worshipper of his country’s gods in this play, he is also, to some small extent at least, manifestly a politician. The main feature of the constitutional history of Athens in the period immediately following the great Persian war, to which period our trilogy belongs, was the enlargement and the systematic completion of those democratic forms, of which the timocratic legislation of Solon, about a century and a-half before, had planted the first germs. Of these changes, Pericles, the man above all others who knew both to understand and to control his age, was the chief promoter; and in a policy whose main tendency was the substitution of a numerous popular for a narrow professional control of public business, it could not fail to be a main feature, that the authority of the judges of the old aristocratic courts was curtailed in favour of those bodies of paid jurymen, the institution of which is specially attributed to Pericles and his coadjutor Ephialtes.† Whether these changes were politic or not, in the large sense of that word, need not be inquired here; Mr. Grote has done much to lengthen the focus of those short-sighted national spectacles, through which the English eye has been accustomed to view the classic democracies; but let it be that Pericles kept within the bounds of a wise liberty in giving a fair and a large trial to the action of democratic principles at that time and place; or let it be, on the other hand, that he overstepped the line

  • “Which whoso passes, or who reaches not,
  • Misses the mark of right”—

  in either case, where decision was so difficult, and discretion so delicate, no one can accuse the thoughtful tragic poet of a stolid conservatism, when he comes forward, in this play, as the advocate of the only court of high jurisdiction in Athens, now left unshaken by the great surge of those popular billows, that were yet swelling everywhere with the eager inspiration of Marathon and Salamis.* The court of Areopagus was not now, since the legislation of Solon, and the further democratic movement of Cleisthenes, in any invidious or exclusive sense an aristocratic assembly, such as the close corporations of the old Roman aristocracy before the series of popular changes introduced by Licinius Stolo; it was a council, in fact, altogether without that family and hereditary element, in which the principal offence of aristocracy has always lain; its members were composed entirely (not recruited merely like our House of Lords) of those superior magistrates—archons annually elected by the people—who had retired from office. To magnify the authority of such a body, and maintain intact the few privileges that had now been left it, was, when an obvious opportunity offered, not only excusable in a great national tragedian, but imperative. One thing his political attitude in this matter certainly proves, that he was not a vulgar hunter after popularity, delighting to swell to the point of insane exaggeration the cry of the hour, but one of those men of high purpose, who prove a greater strength of patriotism by stemming the popular stream, than by swimming with it.

  Besides the championship of the Court of the Areopagus, there is another political element in this rich drama, which, though of less consequence, must not be omitted. No sooner had the Persian invaders been fairly driven back from the Hellenic shore, than that old spirit of narrow local jealousy, which was the worm at the heart of Grecian political existence, broke out with renewed vigour, and gave ominous indications in the untoward affair of Tanagra, of that terrible collision which shook the two great rival powers a few years afterwards in the famous Peloponnesian war. Sparta and Athens, opposed as they were by race, by geographical position, and by political character, after some public attempts at co-operation, in which Cimon was the principal actor, shrunk back, as in quiet preparation for the great trial of strength, into a state of isolated antagonism. But, though open hostility was deferred, wise precaution could not sleep; and, accordingly, we find the Athenians, about this time, anxious to secure a base of operations, so to speak, against Sparta in the Peloponnesus, by entering into an alliance with Argos. As a genuine Athenian, Æschylus, whatever his political feelings might be towards Cimon and the Spartan party, could not but look with pleasure on the additional strength which this Argive connection gave to Athens in the general council of Greece; and, accordingly, he dexterously takes advantage of the circumstance of Orestes being an Argive, to trace back the now historical union of the two countries to a period where Fancy is free to add what links she pleases to the brittle bonds of international association

  Such is a rapid sketch of the principal religious and political relations, some notion of which is necessary to enable the general English reader to enter with sympathy on the perusal of the very powerful and singular drama of the Eumenides The professional student, of course, will not content himself with what he finds here, but will seek for complete satisfaction in the luminous pages of Thirlwall and Grote—in the learned articles of Dr. Smith’s Dictionary of Antiquities, in the notes of Schoemann, and, above all, in the rare Dissertations of Ottfried Muller, accompanying his edition of the Eumenides—a work which I have read once and again with mingled admiration and delight—from which I have necessarily drawn with no stinted hand in my endeavours to comprehend the Orestean trilogy for myself, and to make it comprehensible to others; and which I most earnestly recommend to all classical students as a pattern-specimen of erudite architecture raised by the hand of a master, from whom, even in his points of most baseless speculation (as what German is without such?), more is to be learned than from the triple-fanged certainties of vulgar commentators.

  THE EUMENIDES

  Scene.—In front of the Temple of Apollo at Delphi.

  The Pythoness.

  • Old Earth, primeval prophetess, I first
  • With these my prayers invoke; and Themis1 next,
  • Who doth her mother’s throne and temple both
  • Inherit, as the legend runs; and third
  • In lot’s due course, another Earth-born maid
  • The unforced homage of the land received,
  • Titanian Phœbe;* she in natal gift
  • With her own name her hoary right bequeathed
  • To Phœbus: he from rocky Delos’ lake2
  • To Attica’s ship-cruised bays was wafted, whence
  • He in Parnassus fixed his sure abode.
  • Hither with pious escort they attend him:
  • The Sons of Vulcan pioneer his path,3
  • Smoothing the rugged desert where he comes:
  • The thronging people own him, and king Delphos,
  • The land’s high helmsman, flings his portals wide.
  • Jove with divinest skill his heart inspires,
  • And now the fourth on this dread seat enthroned
  • Sits Loxias,† prophet of his father Jove.4
  • These be the gods, whom chiefly I invoke:
  • But thee, likewise, who ’fore this temple dwellest,5
  • Pallas, I pray, and you, ye Nymphs that love
  • The hollow Corycian rock,6 the frequent haunt
  • Of pleasant birds, the home of awful gods.
  • Thee, Bromius, too, I worship,7 not unweeting
  • How, led by thee, the furious Thyads rushed
  • To seize the godless Pentheus,8 ev’n as a hare
  • Is dogged to death. And you, the fountains pure
  • Of Pleistus,‡ and Poseidon’s§ mighty power9
  • I pray, and Jove most high, that crowns all things
  • With consummation. These the gods that lead me
  • To the prophetic seat, and may they grant me
  • Best-omened entrance; may consulting Greeks,
  • If any be, by custom’d lot approach;
  • For as the gods my bosom stir, I pour
  • The fateful answer.

  [She goes into the Temple, but suddenly returns.

  • O horrid tale to tell! O sight to see
  • Most horrible! that drives me from the halls
  • Of Loxias, so that I nor stand nor run,
  • But, like a beast fourfooted stumble on,
  • Losing the gait and station of my kind,
  • A gray-haired woman, weaker than a child!10
  • Up to the garlanded recess I walked,
  • And on the navel-stone* behold! a man
  • With crime polluted to the altar clinging,
  • And in his bloody hand he held a sword
  • Dripping with recent murder, and a branch
  • Of breezy olive, with flocks of fleecy wool
  • All nicely tipt. Even thus I saw the man;
  • And stretched before him an unearthly host
  • Of strangest women, on the sacred seats
  • Sleeping—not women, but a Gorgon brood,
  • And worse than Gorgons, or the ravenous crew
  • That filched the feast of Phineus11 (such I’ve seen
  • In painted terror); but these are wingless, black,
  • Incarnate horrors, and with breathings dire
  • Snort unapproachable, and from their eyes
  • Pestiferous beads of poison they distil.
  • Such uncouth sisterhood, apparel’d so,12
  • From all affinity of gods or men
  • Divorced, from me and from the gods be far,
  • And from all human homes! Nor can the land,
  • That lends these unblest hags a home, remain
  • Uncursed by fearful scourges. But the god,
  • Thrice-potent Loxias himself will ward
  • His holiest shrine from lawless outrage. Him
  • Physician, prophet, soothsayer, we call,
  • Cleansing from guilt the blood-polluted hall.

  [Exit.

  The interior of the Delphic Temple is now presented to view.Orestesis seen clinging to the navel-stone; theEumenideslie sleeping on the seats around. In the backgroundHermesbesideOrestes.EnterApollo.

  Apollo[to Orestes].

  • Trust me, I’ll not betray thee. Far or near,
  • Thy guardian I, and to thine every foe
  • No gentle god. Thy madded persecutors
  • Sleep-captured lie: the hideous host is bound.
  • Primeval virgins, hoary maids, with whom
  • Nor god, nor man, nor beast hath known communion.
  • For evil’s sake they are: in evil depth
  • Of rayless Tartarus, underneath the ground,
  • They dwell, of men and of Olympian gods
  • Abhorred. But hence! nor faint thy heart, though they
  • Are mighty to pursue from land to land
  • O’er measureless tracks, from rolling sea to sea,
  • And sea-swept cities. A bitter pasture truly
  • Was thine from Fate;13 but bear all stoutly. Hie thee
  • Away to Pallas’ city, and embrace
  • Her ancient image14 with close-clinging arms.
  • Just Judges there we will appoint to judge
  • Thy cause, and with soft-soothing pleas will pluck
  • The sting from thy offence, and free thee quite
  • From all thy troubles. Thou know’st that I, the god,
  • When thou didst strike, myself the blow directed.

  Orest.

  • Liege lord Apollo, justice to the gods
  • Belongs; in justice, O remember me.
  • Thy power divine assurance gives that thou
  • Can’st make thy will a deed.

  Apollo.

  • Fear nought. Trust me.
  • [To Hermes] And thou, true brother’s blood, true father’s son,
  • Hermes, attend, and to this mission gird thee.
  • Fulfil the happy omen of thy name,
  • The Guide,* and guide this suppliant on his way.
  • For Jove respects thy function and thy pride,
  • The prosperous convoy, and the faithful guide.

  [ExitHermes,leadingOrestes. Apolloretires.

  Enterthe Shade of Clytemnestra.

  Clytem.

  • Sleeping? All sleeping! Ho! What need of sleepers?
  • While I roam restless, of my fellow-dead
  • Dishonoured and reproached, by fault of you,
  • That when I slew swift vengeance overtook me.
  • But being slain myself, my avengers sleep
  • And leave my cause to drift! Hear me, sleepers!
  • Such taunts I bear, such contumelious gibes,
  • Yet not one god is touched with wrath to avenge
  • My death, who died by matricidal hands.
  • Behold these wounds!15 look through thy sleep, and see!
  • Read with thy heart; some things the soul may scan
  • More clearly, when the sensuous lid hath dropt,
  • Nor garish day confounds.16 Full oft have ye
  • Of my libations sipped the wineless streams,
  • The soothings of my sober sacrifice,
  • The silent supper from the solemn altar,
  • At midnight hour when only ye are worshipped.
  • But now all this beneath your feet lies trampled.
  • The man is gone; fled like a hind! he snaps
  • The meshes of your toils, and makes—O shame!
  • Your Deity a mark for scoffers’ eyes
  • To wink at! Hear me, ye infernal hags,
  • Unhoused from hell! For my soul’s peace I plead,
  • Once Clytemnestra famous, now a dream.17

  [TheChorusmoans.

  • Ye moan! the while the man hath fled, and seeks
  • For help from those that are no friends to me.18

  [TheChorusmoans again.

  • Sleep-bound art thou. Hast thou no bowels for me?
  • My Furies sleep, and let my murderer flee.

  [TheChorusgroans.

  • Groaning and sleeping! Up! What work hast thou
  • To do, but thine own work of sorrow? Rouse thee!

  [TheChorusgroans again.

  • Sleep and fatigue have sworn a league to bind
  • The fearful dragon with strong mastery.

  Chorus

  [with redoubled groans and shrill cries].

  Hold! seize him! seize him! seize there! there! there! hold!

  Clytem.

  • Thy dream scents blood, and, like a dog that doth
  • In dreams pursue the chase, even so dost thou
  • At phantasms bark and howl. To work! to work!
  • Let not fatigue o’ermaster thus thy strength,
  • Nor slumber soothe the sense of sharpest wrong.
  • Torture thy liver with reproachful thoughts;
  • Reproaches are the pricks that goad the wise.
  • Up! blow a blast of bloody breath behind him!
  • Dry up his marrow with the fiery vengeance!
  • Follow! give chase! pursue him to the death!

  Chorus,19starting up in hurry and confusion.

  Voice 1.

  Awake! awake! rouse her as I rouse thee!

  Voice 2.

  • Dost sleep? arise! dash drowsy sleep away!
  • Brave dreams be prelude to brave deed! Ho, sisters!

  STROPHE I.

  Voice 1.

  • Shame, sisters, shame!
  • Insult and injury!
  • Shame, O shame!

  Voice 2.

  Shame on me, too: a bootless, fruitless shame!

  Voice 1.

  • Insult and injury,
  • Sorrow and shame!
  • Burden unbearable,
  • Shame! O shame!

  Voice 2.

  The snare hath sprung: flown is the goodly game.

  Voice 3.

  • I slept, and when sleeping
  • He sprang from my keeping;
  • Shame, O shame!

  ANTISTROPHE I.

  Voice 1.

  • O son of Jove, in sooth,
  • If thou wilt hear the truth,
  • Robber’s thy name!

  Voice 2.

  Thou being young dost overleap the old.20

  Voice 1.

  • A suppliant, godless,
  • And bloodstained, I see,
  • And bitter to parents,
  • Harboured by thee.

  Voice 2.

  Apollo’s shrine a mother-murderer’s hold!

  Voice 3.

  • Apollo rewardeth
  • Whom Justice discardeth,
  • And robber’s his name!

  STROPHE II.

  Voice 1.

  • A voice of reproach
  • Came through my sleeping,
  • Like a charioteer
  • With his swift lash sweeping.

  Voice 2.

  • Thorough my heart,
  • Thorough my liver,
  • Keen as the cold ice
  • Shot through the river.

  Voice 3.

  • Harsh as the headsman,
  • Ruthless exacter,
  • When tearless he scourges
  • The doomed malefactor.

  ANTISTROPHE II.

  Voice 1.

  • All blushless and bold
  • The gods that are younger
  • Would rule o’er the old,
  • With the right of the stronger.

  Voice 2.

  • The Earth’s navel-stone
  • So holy reputed,
  • All gouted with blood,
  • With fresh murder polluted,
  • Behold, O behold!

  Voice 3.

  • By the fault of the younger,
  • The holiest holy
  • Is holy no longer.

  STROPHE III.

  Voice 1.

  • Thyself thy hearth with this pollution stained
  • Thyself, a prophet, free and unconstrained

  Voice 2.

  • O’er the laws of the gods
  • Thou hast recklessly ridden,
  • Dispensing to men
  • Gifts to mortals forbidden;

  Voice 3.

  • Us thou hast reft
  • Of our name and our glory,
  • Us and the Fates,
  • The primeval, the hoary.

  ANTISTROPHE III.

  Voice 1.

  • I hate the god. Though underneath the ground
  • He hide my prey, there, too, he shall be found.

  Voice 2.

  • I at each shrine
  • Where the mortal shall bend him,
  • Will jealously watch,
  • That no god may defend him.

  Voice 3.

  • Go where he will,
  • A blood-guilty ranger,
  • Hotly will hound him still
  • I, the Avenger!

  Apollo.

  • Begone! I charge thee, leave these sacred halls!
  • From this prophetic cell avaunt! lest thou
  • A feathered serpent in thy breast receive,
  • Shot from my golden bow; and, inly pained,
  • Thou vomit forth black froth of murdered men,
  • Belching the clotted slaughter by thy maw
  • Insatiate sucked. These halls suit not for thee;
  • But where beheading, eye-out-digging dooms,21
  • Abortions, butcheries, barrenness abound,
  • Where mutilations, flayings, torturings,
  • Make wretches groan, on pointed stakes impaled,
  • There fix your seats; there hold the horrid feasts,
  • In which your savage hearts exultant revel,
  • Of gods abominate—maids whose features foul
  • Speak your foul tempers plainly. Find a home
  • In some grim lion’s den sanguinolent, not
  • In holy temples which your breath pollutes.
  • Depart, ye sheep unshepherded, whom none
  • Of all the gods may own!

  Chorus.

  • Liege lord, Apollo,
  • Ours now to speak, and thine to hear: thyself
  • Not aided only, but the single cause
  • Wert thou of all thou blamest.

  Apollo.

  How so? Speak!

  Chorus.

  Thine was the voice that bade him kill his mother.

  Apollo.

  Mine was the voice bade him avenge his father.

  Chorus.

  All reeking red with gore thou didst receive him.

  Apollo.

  Not uninvited to these halls he came.

  Chorus.

  • And we come with him. Wheresoe’er he goes,
  • His convoy we. Our function is to follow.

  Apollo.

  • Follow! but from this holy threshold keep
  • Unholy feet.

  Chorus.

  • We, where we must go, go
  • By virtue of our office.

  Apollo.

  • A goodly vaunt!
  • Your office what?

  Chorus.

  • From hearth and home we chase
  • All mother-murderers.

  Apollo.

  • She was murdered here,
  • That murdered first her husband.22

  Chorus.

  • Yet should she
  • By her own body’s fruitage have been slain?

  Apollo.

  • Thus speaking, ye mispraise the sacred rites
  • Of matrimonial Hera23 and of Jove,
  • Unvalued make fair Aphrodite’s grace,
  • Whence dearest joys to mortal man descend.
  • The nuptial bed, to man and woman fated,24
  • Hath obligation stronger than an oath,
  • And Justice guards it. Ye who watch our crimes,
  • If that loose reins to nuptial sins ye yield,
  • Offend, and grossly. If the murtherous wife
  • Escape your sharp-set vengeance, how can ye
  • Pursue Orestes justly? I can read
  • No even judgment in your partial scales,
  • In this more wrathful, and in that more mild.
  • She who is wise shall judge between us, Pallas.

  Chorus.

  The man is mine already. I will keep him.

  Apollo.

  He’s gone; and thou’lt but waste thy toil to follow.

  Chorus.

  Thy words shall not be swords, to cut my honors.

  Apollo.

  Crowned with such honors, I would tear them from me!

  Chorus.

  • A mighty god beside thy father’s throne
  • Art thou, Apollo. Me this mother’s blood
  • Goads on to hound this culprit to his doom.

  Apollo.

  • And I will help this man, champion and save him,
  • My suppliant, my client; should I not,
  • Both gods and men would brand the treachery.

  The scene changes to the Temple of Pallas in Athens. A considerable interval of time is supposed to have elapsed between the two parts of the Play.

  EnterOrestes.

  Orest.

  • Athena queen, at Loxias’ hest I come.
  • Receive the suppliant with propitious grace.
  • Not now polluted, nor unwashed from guilt
  • I cling to the first altar; time hath mellowed
  • My hue of crime, and friendly men receive
  • The curse-beladen wanderer to their homes.
  • True to the god’s oracular command,
  • O’er land and sea with weary foot I fare,
  • To find thy shrine, O goddess, and clasp thine image;
  • And now redemption from thy doom I wait.

  EnterChorus.

  Chorus.

  • ’Tis well. The man is here. His track I know.
  • The sure advisal of our voiceless guide
  • Follow; as hound a wounded stag pursues,
  • We track the blood, and snuff the coming death.
  • Soothly we pant, with life-outwearying toils
  • Sore overburdened! O’er the wide sea far
  • I came, and with my wingless flight outstripped
  • The couriers of the deep. Here he must lie,
  • In some pent corner skulking. In my nostrils
  • The scent of mortal blood doth laugh me welcome.

  Chorus.25

  Voice 1.

  Look, sisters, look!

  Voice 2.

  • On the right, on the left, and round about,
  • Search every nook!

  Voice 3.

  • Warily watch him,
  • The blood-guilty ranger,
  • That Fraud may not snatch him,
  • From me the Avenger!

  Voice 1.

  • At the shrine of the goddess,
  • He bendeth him lowly,
  • Embracing her image,
  • The ancient the holy.

  Voice 2.

  • With hands crimson-reeking,
  • He clingeth profanely,
  • A free pardon seeking
  • From Pallas—how vainly!

  Voice 3.

  • For blood, when it floweth,
  • For once and for ever
  • It sinks, and it knoweth
  • To mount again never.

  Voice 1.

  • Thou shalt pay me with pain;
  • From thy heart, from thy liver
  • I will suck, I will drain
  • Thy life’s crimson river.

  Voice 2.

  • The cup from thy veins
  • I will quaff it, how rarely!
  • I will wither thy brains,
  • Thou shalt pine late and early.

  Voice 3.

  • I will drag thee alive,
  • For thy guilt matricidal,
  • To the dens of the damned,
  • For thy lasting abidal.

  EPODE.

  Tutti.

  • There imprisoned thou shalt see
  • All who living sinned with thee,
  • ’Gainst the gods whom men revere,
  • ’Gainst honoured guest, or parents dear;
  • All the guilty who inherited
  • Woe, even as their guilt had merited.
  • For Hades,* in his halls of gloom,
  • With a justly portioned doom,26
  • Binds them down securely:
  • All the crimes of human kind,
  • In the tablet of his mind,
  • He hath graven surely.

  Orest.

  • By manifold ills I have been taught to know
  • All expiations; and the time to speak
  • I know, and to be silent. In this matter
  • As a wise master taught me, so my tongue
  • Shapes utterance. The curse that bound me sleeps,
  • My harsh-grained guilt is finer worn, the deep
  • Ensanguined stain washed to a softer hue;
  • Still reeking fresh with gore, on Phœbus’ hearth,
  • The blood of swine hath now wrought my lustration,*
  • And I have held communings with my kind
  • Once and again unharming. Time, that smooths
  • All things, hath smoothed the front of my offence.
  • With unpolluted lips I now implore
  • Thy aid, Athena, of this land the queen.
  • Myself, a firm ally, I pledge to thee,
  • Myself, the Argive people, and their land,
  • Thy bloodless prize. And whether distant far
  • On Libyan plains beside Tritonian pools,
  • Thy natal flood, with forward foot firm planted,
  • Erect, or with decorous stole high-seated,27
  • Thy friends thou aidest, or with practised eye
  • The ordered battle on Phlegrean fields
  • Thou musterest28 —come!—for gods can hear from far—
  • And from these woes complete deliverance send!

  Chorus.

  • Not all Apollo’s, all Athena’s power
  • Shall aid thee. Thou, of gods and men forsook,
  • Shalt pine and dwindle, stranger to the name
  • Of joy, a wasted shadow, bloodless sucked
  • To fatten wrathful gods. Thou dost not speak,
  • But, as a thing devoted, standest dumb,
  • My prey, even mine! my living banquet thou,
  • My fireless victim. List, and thou shalt hear
  • My song, that binds thee with its viewless chain.

  Chorus.

  • Deftly, deftly weave the dance!
  • Sisters lift the dismal strain!
  • Sing the Furies, justly dealing
  • Dooms deserved to guilty mortals;
  • Deftly, deftly lift the strain!
  • Whoso lifted hands untainted
  • Him no Furies’ wrath shall follow,
  • He shall live unharmed by me;
  • But who sinned, as this offender,
  • Hiding foul ensanguined hands,
  • We with him are present, bearing
  • Unhired witness for the dead;
  • We will tread his heels, exacting
  • Blood for blood, even to the end.
  • CHORAL HYMN.29
    STROPHE I.
  • • Mother Night that bore me,
    • A scourge, to go before thee,
    • To scourge, with stripes delightless,
    • The seeing and the sightless,30
    • Hear me, I implore thee,
    • O Mother Night!
    • Mother Night that bore me,
    • The son of Leto o’er me
    • Rough rides, in thy despite.
    • From me, the just pursuer,
    • He shields the evil-doer,
    • The son to me devoted,
    • For mother-murder noted,
    • He claims against the right.
  • • Where the victim lies,
    • Let the death-hymn rise!
    • Lift ye the hymn of the Furies amain!
    • The gleeless song, and the lyreless strain,31
    • That bindeth the heart with a viewless chain,
    • With notes of distraction and maddening sorrow,
    • Blighting the brain, and burning the marrow!
    • Where the victim lies,
    • Let the death-hymn rise,
    • The hymn that binds with a viewless chain!
  • ANTISTROPHE I.
  • • Mother Night that bore me,
    • The Fate that was before me,
    • This portion gave me surely,
    • This lot for mine securely,
    • To bear the scourge before thee,
    • O Mother Night!
    • And, in embrace untender
    • To hold the red offender,
    • That sinned in gods’ despite,
    • And wheresoe’er he wend him,
    • His keepers close we tend him.
    • In living or in dying,
    • From us there is no flying,
    • The daughters of the Night.
  • • Where the victim lies,
    • Let the death-hymn rise!
    • Lift ye the hymn of the Furies amain!
    • The gleeless song, and the lyreless strain,
    • That bindeth the heart with a viewless chain,
    • With notes of distraction and maddening sorrow,
    • Blighting the brain, and burning the marrow!
    • Where the victim lies,
    • Let the death-hymn rise,
    • The hymn that binds with a viewless chain!
  • STROPHE II.
  • • From primal ages hoary,
    • This lot, our pride and glory,
    • Appointed was to us,
    • To Hades’ gloomy portal,
    • To chase the guilty mortal,
    • But from Olympians, reigning
    • In lucid seats,* abstaining,
    • Their nectared feasts we taste not,
    • Their sun-white robes invest not
    • The maids of Erebus.
  • • But, with scourge and with ban,
    • We prostrate the man,
    • Who with smooth-woven wile,
    • And a fair-faced smile,
    • Hath planted a snare for his friend;
    • Though fleet, we shall find him,
    • Though strong, we shall bind him,
    • Who planted a snare for his friend.
  • ANTISTROPHE II.
  • • This work of labour earnest,32
    • This task severest, sternest,
    • Let none remove from us.
    • To all their due we render,
    • Each deeply-marked offender
    • Our searching eye reproveth,
    • Though blissful Jove removeth,
    • From his Olympian glory,
    • Abhorr’d of all and gory,
    • The maids of Erebus.
  • • But, swift as the wind,
    • We follow and find,
    • Till he stumbles apace,
    • Who had hoped in the race,
    • To escape from the grasp of the Furies!
    • And we trample him low,
    • Till he writhe in his woe,
    • Who had fled from the chase of the Furies.
  • STROPHE III.
  • The thoughts heaven-scaling
  • Of men haughty-hearted,
  • At our breath, unavailing
  • Like smoke they departed.
  • Our jealous foot hearing,
  • They stumble before us,
  • And bite the ground, fearing
  • Our dark-vested chorus.
  • ANTISTROPHE III.
  • They fall, and perceive not
  • The foe that hath found them;
  • They are blind and believe not,
  • Thick darkness hath bound them.
  • From the halls of the fated,
  • A many-voiced wailing
  • Of sorrow unsated
  • Ascends unavailing.
  • STROPHE IV.
  • For the Furies work readily
  • Vengeance unsparing,
  • Surely and steadily
  • Ruin preparing.
  • Dark crimes strictly noted,
  • Sure-memoried they store them;
  • And, judgment once voted,
  • Prayers vainly implore them.
  • For they know no communion
  • With the bright-throned union
  • Of the gods of the day;
  • Where the living appear not,
  • Where the pale Shades near not,
  • In regions delightless,
  • All sunless and sightless,
  • They dwell far away.
  • ANTISTROPHE IV.
  • What mortal reveres not
  • Our deity awful?
  • When he names us, who fears not
  • To work deeds unlawful?
  • From times hoary-dated,
  • This statute for ever
  • Divinely was fated;
  • Time takes from it never.
  • For dishonour we bear not,
  • Though the bright thrones we share not
  • With the gods of the day.
  • Our right hoary-dated
  • We claim unabated,
  • Though we dwell, where delightless
  • No sun cheers the sightless,
  • ’Neath the ground far away.

  EnterAthena.

  Athena.

  • The cry that called me from Scamander’s banks33
  • I heard afar, even as I hied to claim
  • The land for mine which the Achæan chiefs
  • Assigned me, root and branch, my portion fair
  • Of the conquered roods, a goodly heritage
  • To Theseus’ sons. Thence, with unwearied foot,
  • I journeyed here by these high-mettled steeds
  • Car-borne, my wingless ægis in the gale
  • Full-bosomed whirring. And now, who are ye,
  • A strange assembly, though I fear you not,
  • Here gathered at my gates? I speak to both,
  • To thee the stranger, that with suppliant arms
  • Enclasps my statue—Whence art thou? And you,
  • Like to no generation seed-begotten,
  • Like to no goddess ever known of gods,
  • Like to no breathing forms of mortal kind;
  • But to reproach with contumelious phrase
  • Who wrong not us, nor courtesy allows,
  • Nor Themis wills. Whence are ye?

  Chorus.

  • Daughter of Jove,
  • ’Tis shortly said: of the most ancient Night
  • The tristful daughters we, and our dread name,
  • Even from the fearful Curse we bear, we borrow.*

  Athena.

  I know you, and the dreaded name ye bear.

  Chorus.

  Our sacred office, too—

  Athena.

  That I would hear.

  Chorus.

  The guilty murderer from his home we hunt.

  Athena.

  And the hot chase, where ends it?

  Chorus.

  • There, where joy
  • Is never named.

  Athena.

  • And is this man the quarry,
  • That, with hoarse-throated whoop, thou now pursuest?

  Chorus.

  He slew his mother—dared the worst of crimes.

  Athena.

  • What mightier fear, what strong necessity
  • Spurred him to this?

  Chorus.

  • What fear so strong that it
  • Should prompt a mother’s murder?

  Athena.

  There are two parties. Only one hath spoken.

  Chorus.

  He’ll neither swear himself, nor take my oath.34

  Athena.

  • The show of justice, not fair Justice self,
  • Thou lovest.

  Chorus.

  How? Speak—thou so rich in wisdom.

  Athena.

  Oaths are no proof, to make the wrong the right.

  Chorus.

  Prove thou. A true and righteous judgment judge.

  Athena.

  • I shall be judge, betwixt this man and thee
  • To speak the doom.

  Chorus.

  • Even thou. Thy worthy deeds
  • Give thee the worth in this high strife to judge.

  Athena.

  • Now, stranger, ’tis thy part to speak. Whence come,
  • Thy lineage what, and what thy fortunes, say,
  • And then refute this charge against thee brought.
  • For well I note the sacredness about thee,
  • That marks the suppliant who atonement seeks,
  • In old Ixíon’s guise;35 and thou hast fled
  • For refuge, to my holy altar clinging.
  • Answer me this, and plainly tell thy tale.

  Orest.

  • Sovran Athena, first from these last words
  • A cause of much concernment be removed.
  • I seek for no atonement; no pollution
  • Cleaves to thy sacred image from my touch.
  • Of this receive a proof. Thou know’st a murderer
  • Being unatoned a voiceless penance bears,
  • Till, from the hand of friendly man, the blood
  • Of a young beast from lusty veins hath sprent him,
  • Cleansing from guiltiness. These sacred rites
  • Have been performed: the blood of beasts hath sprent me,
  • The lucent lymph hath purged the filthy stain.
  • For this enough. As for my race, I am
  • An Argive born: and for my father, he
  • Was Agamemnon, king of men, by whom
  • The chosen admiral of the masted fleet,
  • The ancient city of famous Priam thou
  • Didst sheer uncity.36 Sad was his return;
  • For, with dark-bosomed guile, my mother killed him,
  • Snared in the meshes of a tangled net,
  • And of the bloody deed the bath was witness.
  • I then, returning to my father’s house
  • After long exile—I confess the deed—
  • Slew her who bore me, a dear father’s murder
  • With murder quitting. The blame—what blame may be—
  • I share with Loxias, who fore-augured griefs
  • To goad my heart if, by my fault, such guilt
  • Should go unpunished. I have spoken. Thou
  • What I have done, if justly or unjustly,
  • Decide. Thy doom, howe’er it fall, contents me.

  Athena.

  • In this high cause to judge, no mortal man
  • May venture; nor may I divide the law
  • Of right and wrong, in such keen strife of blood.
  • For thee, in that thou comest to my halls,37
  • In holy preparation perfected,
  • A pure and harmless suppliant, I, as pledged
  • Already thy protector, may not judge thee.
  • For these, ’tis no light thing to slight their office.
  • For, should I send them hence uncrowned with triumph,
  • Dripping fell poison from their wrathful breasts,
  • They’d leave a noisome pestilence in the land
  • Behind them. Thus both ways I’m sore perplexed;
  • Absent or present, they do bring a curse.
  • But since this business needs a swift decision,
  • Sworn judges I’ll appoint, and they shall judge
  • Of blood in every age. Your testimonies
  • And proofs meanwhile, and all that clears the truth,
  • Provide. Myself, to try this weighty cause,
  • My choicest citizens will choose, and bind them
  • By solemn oath to judge a righteous judgment.
  • CHORAL HYMN.38
    STROPHE I.
  • Ancient rights and hoary uses
  • Now shall yield to young abuses,
  • Right and wrong together chime,
  • If the vote
  • Fail to note
  • Mother-murder for a crime.
  • Murder now, made nimble-handed,
  • Wide shall rage without control;
  • Sons against their parents banded
  • Deeds abhorred
  • With the sword
  • Now shall work, while ages roll.
  • ANTISTROPHE I.
  • Now no more, o’er deeds unlawful,
  • Shall the sleeping Mænads* awful
  • Watch, with jealous eyes to scan;
  • Free and chainless,
  • Wild and reinless,
  • Stalks o’er Earth each murtherous plan.
  • Friend to friend his loss deploreth,
  • Lawless rapine, treacherous wound,
  • But in vain his plaint he poureth;
  • To his bruises
  • Earth refuses
  • Balm; no balm on Earth is found.
  • STROPHE II.
  • Now no more, from grief’s prostration,
  • Cries and groans
  • Heaven shall scale with invocation—
  • “Justice hear my supplication,
  • Hear me, Furies, from your thrones!”
  • From the recent sorrow bleeding,
  • Father thus or mother calls,
  • Vainly with a piteous pleading,
  • For the House of Justice falls.
  • ANTISTROPHE II.
  • Blest the man in whose heart reigneth
  • Holy Fear;
  • Fear his heart severely traineth;
  • Blest, from troublous woe who gaineth
  • Ripest fruits of wisdom clear;*
  • But who sports, a careless liver,39
  • In the sunshine’s flaunting show,
  • Holy Justice, he shall never
  • Thy severest virtue know.
  • STROPHE III.
  • Lordless life, or despot-ridden,
  • Be they both from me forbidden.
  • To the wise mean strength is given,40
  • Thus the gods have ruled in heaven;
  • Gods, that gently or severely
  • Judge, discerning all things clearly.
  • Mark my word, I tell thee truly,
  • Pride, that lifts itself unduly,41
  • Had a godless heart for sire.
  • Healthy-minded moderation
  • Wins the wealthy consummation,
  • Every heart’s desire.
  • ANTISTROPHE III.
  • Yet, again, I tell thee truly,
  • At Justice’ altar bend thee duly.
  • Wean thine eye from lawless yearning
  • After gain; with godless spurning
  • Smite not thou that shrine most holy.
  • Punishment, that travels slowly,
  • Comes at last, when least thou fearest.
  • Yet, once more; with truth sincerest,
  • Love thy parents and revere,
  • And the guest, that to protect him,
  • Claims thy guardian roof, respect him,
  • With an holy fear.*
  • STROPHE IV.
  • Whoso, with no forced endeavour,
  • Sin-eschewing liveth,
  • Him to hopeless ruin never
  • Jove the Saviour giveth.
  • But whose hand, with greed rapacious,
  • Draggeth all things for his prey,
  • He shall strike his flag audacious,
  • When the god-sent storm shall bray,
  • Winged with fate at last;
  • When the stayless sail is flapping,
  • When the sail-yard swings, and, snapping,
  • Crashes to the blast.
  • ANTISTROPHE IV.
  • He shall call, but none shall hear him,
  • When dark ocean surges;
  • None with saving hand shall near him,
  • When his prayer he urges.
  • Laughs the god, to see him vainly
  • Grasping at the crested rock;
  • Fool, who boasted once profanely
  • Firm to stand in Fortune’s shock;
  • Who so great had been
  • His freighted wealth with fearful crashing,
  • On the rock of Justice dashing,
  • Dies, unwept, unseen.

  EnterAthena,behind a Herald.

  Athena.

  • Herald, proclaim the diet, and command
  • The people to attention; with strong breath
  • Give the air-shattering Tyrrhene trump free voice,42
  • To speak shrill-throated to the assembled throngs;
  • And, while the judges take their solemn seats,
  • In hushed submission, let the city hear
  • My laws that shall endure for aye; and these,
  • In hushed submission, wait the righteous doom.

  EnterApollo.43

  Chorus.

  • Sovran Apollo, rule where thou art lord;
  • But here what business brings the prophet? Speak.

  Apollo.

  • I come a witness of the truth; this man
  • Is suppliant to me, he on my hearth
  • Found refuge, him I purified from blood.
  • I, too, am patron of his cause, I share
  • The blame, if blame there be, in that he slew
  • His mother. Pallas, order thou the trial.

  Athena [to the Furies].

  • Speak ye the first, ’tis wiseliest ordered thus,
  • That, who complains, his plaint set forth in order,
  • Point after point, articulately clear.

  Chorus.

  • Though we be many, yet our words are few.
  • Answer thou singly, as we singly ask;
  • This first—art thou the murderer of thy mother?

  Orest.

  I did the deed. This fact hath no denial.

  Chorus.

  Once worsted! With three fits I gain the trial.

  Orest.

  Boast, when thou seest me fall. As yet I stand.

  Chorus.

  This answer now—how didst thou do the deed.

  Orest.

  • Thus; with my pointed dagger, in the neck
  • I smote her.

  Chorus.

  Who the bloody deed advised?

  Orest.

  The god of oracles. Here he stands to witness.

  Chorus.

  Commanding murder with prophetic nod?

  Orest.

  Ay! and even now I do not blame the god.

  Chorus.

  • Soon, soon, thou’lt blame him, when the pebble drops
  • Into the urn of justice with thy doom.

  Orest.

  My murdered sire will aid me from the tomb.

  Chorus.

  Trust in the dead; in thy dead mother trust.

  Orest.

  She died, with two foul blots well marked for vengeance.

  Chorus.

  How so? This let the judges understand

  Orest.

  The hand that killed her husband killed my father.

  Chorus.

  If she for her crimes died, why livest thou?

  Orest.

  If her thou didst not vex, why vex me now?

  Chorus.

  She slew a man, but not of kindred blood.

  Orest.

  • Is the son’s blood all to the mother kin,
  • None to the father?

  Chorus.

  • Peace, thou sin-stained monster!
  • Dost thou abjure the dearest blood, the mother’s
  • That bore thee ’neath her zone?

  Orest. [to Apollo].

  • Be witness thou.
  • Apollo, speak for me, if by the rule
  • Of Justice she was murdered. That the deed
  • Was done, and by these hands, I not deny;
  • If justly or unjustly blood was spilt,
  • Thou knowest. Teach me how to make reply.

  Apollo.

  • I speak to you, Athena’s mighty council;
  • And what I speak is truth: the prophet lies not.
  • From my oracular seat was published never
  • To man, to woman, or to city aught
  • By my Olympian sire unfathered* Ye
  • How Justice sways the scale will wisely weigh;
  • But this remember—what my father wills
  • Is law. Jove’s will is stronger than an oath.

  Chorus.

  • Jove, say’st thou, touched thy tongue with inspiration,
  • To teach Orestes that he might avenge
  • A father’s death by murdering a mother?

  Apollo.

  • His was no common father—Agamemnon,
  • Honoured the kingly sceptre god-bestowed
  • To bear—he slain by a weak woman, not
  • By furious Amazon with far-darting bow,
  • But in such wise as I shall now set forth
  • To thee, Athena, and to these that sit
  • On this grave bench of judgment. Him returning
  • All prosperous from the wars, with fairest welcome
  • She hailed her lord, and in the freshening bath
  • Bestowed him; there, ev’n while he laved, she came
  • Spreading death’s mantle out, and, in a web
  • Of curious craft entangled, stabbed him. Such
  • Was the sad fate of this most kingly man,
  • Of all revered, the fleet’s high admiral.
  • A tale it is to prick your heart with pity,
  • Even yours that seal the judgment.

  Chorus.

  • Jove, thou sayest,
  • Prefers the father: yet himself did bind
  • With bonds his hoary-dated father Kronos.44
  • Make this with that to square, and thou art wise.
  • Ye judges, mark me, if I reason well.

  Apollo.

  • O odious monsters, of all gods abhorred!
  • A chain made fast may be untied again.
  • This ill hath many cures; but, when the dust
  • Hath once drunk blood, no power can raise it. Jove
  • Himself doth know no charm to disenchant
  • Death; other things he turns both up and down,
  • At his good pleasure, fainting not in strength.

  Chorus.

  • Consider well whereto thy words will lead thee.
  • How shall this man, who spilt his mother’s blood,
  • Dwell in his father’s halls at Argos? How
  • Devoutly kneel at the public altar? How
  • With any clanship share lustration?45

  Apollo.

  • This
  • Likewise I’ll answer. Mark me! whom we call
  • The mother begets not;46 she is but the nurse,
  • Whose fostering breast the new-sown seed receives.
  • The father truly gets; the dam but cherishes
  • A stranger-bud, that, if the gods be kind,
  • May blossom soon, and bear. Behold a proof!
  • Without a mother may a child be born,
  • Not so without a father. Which to witness
  • Here is this daughter of Olympian Jove,
  • Not nursed in darkness, in the womb, and yet
  • She stands a goddess, heavenly mother ne’er
  • Bore greater. Pallas, here I plight my faith
  • To magnify thy city and thy people;
  • And I this suppliant to thy hearth hath sent,
  • Thy faithful ally ever. May the league
  • Here sworn to-day their children’s children bind!

  Athena

  Now judges, as your judgment is, I charge you, So vote the doom. Words we have had enough.

  Chorus.

  Our quiver’s emptied. We await the doom.

  Athena

  How should the sentence fall to keep me free Of your displeasure?

  Chorus.

  • What we said we said.
  • Even as your heart informs you, nothing fearing,
  • So judges justly vote, the oath revering.

  Athena.

  • Now, hear my ordinance, Athenians!47 Ye,
  • In this first strife of blood, umpires elect,
  • While age on age shall roll, the sons of Aegeus
  • This Council shall revere. Here, on this hill,
  • The embattled Amazons pitched their tents of yore,48
  • What time with Theseus striving, they their tents
  • Against these high-towered infant walls uptowered.
  • To Mars they sacrificed, and, to this day,
  • This Mars’ Hill speaks their story. Here, Athenians,
  • Shall reverence of the gods, and holy fear,
  • That shrinks from wrong, both night and day possess.
  • A place apart, so long as fickle change
  • Your ancient laws disturbs not; but, if this
  • Pure fount with muddy streams ye trouble, ye
  • Shall draw the draught in vain From anarchy
  • And slavish masterdom alike my ordinance
  • Preserve my people! Cast not from your walls
  • All high authority; for where no fear
  • Awful remains, what mortal will be just?
  • This holy reverence use, and ye possess
  • A bulwark, and a safeguard of the land,
  • Such as no race of mortals vaunteth, far
  • In Borean Scythia, or the land of Pelops.*
  • This council I appoint intact to stand
  • From gain, a venerated conclave, quick
  • In pointed indignation, when all sleep
  • A sleepless watch These words of warning hear,
  • My citizens for ever. Now ye judges
  • Rise, take your pebbles, and by vote decide,
  • The sacred oath revering. I have spoken.

  TheAeropagitesadvance; and, as each puts his pebble into the urn, theChorusandApolloalternately address them as follows:

  Chorus.

  • I warn ye well: the sisterhood beware,
  • Whose wrath hangs heavier than the land may bear.

  Apollo.

  • I warn ye well: Jove is my father; fear
  • To turn to nought the words of me, his seer.

  Chorus.

  • If thou dost plead, where thou hast no vocation,
  • For blood, will men respect thy divination?

  Apollo.

  • Must then my father share thy condemnation,
  • When first he heard Ixion’s supplication?

  Chorus.

  • Thou say’st.49 But I, if justice be denied me,
  • Will sorely smite the land that so defied me.

  Apollo.

  • Among the gods the elder, and the younger,
  • Thou hast no favour; I shall prove the stronger.

  Chorus.

  • Such were thy deeds in Pheres’ house,50 deceiving
  • The Fates, and mortal men from death reprieving.

  Apollo.

  • Was it a crime to help a host? to lend
  • A friendly hand to raise a sinking friend?

  Chorus.

  • Thou the primeval Power didst undermine,
  • Mocking the hoary goddesses with wine.

  Apollo.

  • Soon, very soon, when I the cause shall gain,
  • Thou’lt spit thy venom on the ground in vain.

  Chorus.

  • Thou being young, dost jeer my ancient years
  • With youthful insolence; till the doom appears,
  • I’ll patient wait; my hot-spurred wrath I’ll stay,
  • And even-poised betwixt two tempers sway.

  Athena.

  • My part remains; and I this crowning pebble
  • Drop to Orestes; for I never knew
  • The mother’s womb that bore me.* I give honor,
  • Save in my virgin nature, to the male
  • In all things; all my father lives in me.51
  • Not blameless be the wife, who dared to slay
  • Her husband, lord and ruler of her home.
  • My voice is for Orestes; though the votes
  • Fall equal from the urn, my voice shall save him.
  • Now shake the urn, to whom this duty falls,
  • And tell the votes.

  Orest.

  • O Phœbus, how shall end
  • This doubtful issue?

  Chorus.

  • O dark Night, my mother,
  • Behold these things!

  Orest.

  • One moment blinds me quite,
  • Or to a blaze of glory opes my eyes.

  Chorus.

  We sink to shame, or to more honor rise.

  Apollo.

  52

  • Judges, count well the pebbles as they fall,
  • And with just jealousy divide them. One
  • Being falsely counted works no simple harm.
  • One little pebble saves a mighty house.

  Athena.

  • Hear now the doom. This man from blood is free.
  • The votes are equal; he escapes by me.

  Orest.

  • O Pallas, Saviour of my father’s house,
  • Restorer of the exile’s hope, Athena,
  • I praise thee! Now belike some Greek will say,
  • The Argive man revisiteth the homes
  • And fortunes of his father, by the aid
  • Of Pallas, Loxias, and Jove the Saviour
  • All-perfecting, who pled the father’s cause,
  • Fronting the wrathful Furies of the mother!
  • I now depart: and to this land I leave,
  • And to this people, through all future time,
  • An oath behind me, that no lord of Argos
  • Shall ever brandish the well-pointed spear
  • Against this friendly land.† When, from the tomb,
  • I shall perceive who disregards this oath
  • Of my sons’ sons, I will perplex that man
  • With sore perplexities inextricable;
  • Ways of despair, and evil-birded paths*
  • Shall be his portion, cursing his own choice.
  • But if my vows be duly kept, with those
  • That in the closely-banded league shall aid
  • Athena’s city, I am present ever.
  • Then fare thee well, thou and thy people! Never
  • May foe escape thy grasp! When thou dost struggle,
  • Safety and victory attend thy spear!

  [Exit.

  Chorus.

  • Curse on your cause,
  • Ye gods that are younger!
  • O’er the time-hallowed laws
  • Rough ye ride as the stronger.
  • Of the prey that was ours
  • Ye with rude hands bereave us,
  • ’Mid the dark-dreaded Powers
  • Shorn of honor ye leave us.
  • Behold, on the ground
  • From a heart of hostility,
  • I sprinkle around
  • Black gouts of sterility!
  • A plague I will bring,
  • With a dry lichen spreading;
  • No green blade shall spring
  • Where the Fury is treading.
  • To abortion I turn
  • The birth of the blooming,
  • Where the plague-spot shall burn
  • Of my wrath, life-consuming.
  • I am mocked,† but in vain
  • They rejoice at my moaning;
  • They shall pay for my pain,
  • With a fearful atoning,
  • Who seized on my right,
  • And, with wrong unexampled,
  • On the daughters of Night
  • High scornfully trampled.

  Athena

  • Be ruled by me your heavy-bosomed groans
  • Refrain Not vanquished thou, but the fair vote
  • Leapt equal from the urn, with no disgrace
  • To thee. From Jove himself clear witness came;
  • The oracular god that urged the deed, the same
  • Stood here to vouch it, that Orestes might not
  • Reap harm from his obedience. Soothe ye, therefore;
  • Cast not your bolted vengeance on this land,
  • Your gouts of wrath divine distil not, stings
  • Of pointed venom, with keen corrosive power
  • Eating life’s seeds, all barrenness and blight.
  • A home within this land I pledge you, here
  • A shrine, a refuge, and a hearth secure,
  • Where ye on shining thrones shall sit, my city
  • Yielding devoutest homage to your power.

  Chorus.

  • Curse on your cause,
  • Ye gods that are younger!
  • O’er the time-hallowed laws
  • Rough ye ride, as the stronger.
  • Of the prey that was ours
  • Ye with rude hands bereave us,
  • ’Mid the dark-dreaded Powers
  • Shorn of honor ye leave us.
  • Behold, on the ground
  • From a heart of hostility,
  • I sprinkle around
  • Black gouts of sterility!
  • A plague I will bring
  • With a dry lichen spreading;
  • No green blade shall spring
  • Where the Fury is treading.
  • To abortion I turn
  • The birth of the blooming,
  • Where the plague-spot shall burn
  • Of my wrath, life-consuming.
  • I am mocked, but in vain
  • They rejoice at my moaning;
  • They shall pay for my pain,
  • With a fearful atoning,
  • Who seized on my right,
  • And, with wrong unexampled,
  • On the daughters of Night
  • High scornfully trampled.

  Athena.

  • Dishonoured are ye not: Spit not your rancour
  • On this fair land remediless. Rests my trust
  • On Jove, the mighty, I of all the gods
  • Sharing alone the strong keys that unlock
  • His thunder-halls:53 but this I name not here.
  • Yield thou: cast not the seed of reckless speech
  • To crop the land with woe Soothing the waves
  • Of bitter anger darkling in thy breast,
  • Dwell in this land, thy dreadful deity
  • Sistered with me. When thronging worshippers .
  • Henceforth shall cull choice firstlings for thine altars,
  • Praying thy grace to bless the wedded rite,
  • And the child-bearing womb—then honoured so,
  • How wise my present counsel thou shalt know.

  Chorus.

  Voice 1.

  • I to dwell ’neath the Earth
  • All clipt of my glory,
  • In the dark-chambered Earth,
  • I, the ancient, the hoary!

  Voice 2.

  • I breathe on thee curses,
  • I cut through thy marrow,
  • For the insult that pierces
  • My heart like an arrow.

  Voice 3.

  • Hear my cry, mother Night,
  • ’Gainst the gods that deceived me!
  • With their harsh-handed might
  • Of my right they bereaved me.

  Athena.

  • Thy anger I forgive; for thou’rt the elder
  • But though thy years bring wisdom, to me also
  • Jove gave a heart, not undiscerning. You—
  • Mark well my words—if now some foreign land
  • Ye choose, will rue your choice, and long for Athens.
  • The years to be shall float more richly fraught
  • With honor to my citizens; thou shalt hold
  • An honoured seat beside Erectheus’ home,54
  • Where men and women in marshalled pomp shall pay thee
  • Such homage, as no land on Earth may render.
  • But cast not ye on this my chosen land
  • Whetstones of fury, teaching knives to drink
  • The blood of tender bowels, madding the heart
  • With wineless drunkenness, that men shall swell
  • Like game cocks for the battle; save my city
  • From brothered strife, and from domestic brawls.55
  • Without the walls, and far from kindred hearths
  • Rage war, where honor calls, and glory crowns.
  • A bird of blood within the house I love not.
  • Use thine election; wisely use it; give
  • A blessing, and a blessing take; with me
  • May this land dear to the gods be dear to thee!

  Chorus.

  Voice 1.

  • I to dwell ’neath the Earth
  • All clipt of my glory,
  • In the dark-chambered Earth
  • I, the ancient, the hoary!

  Voice 2.

  • I breathe on thee curses,
  • I cut through thy marrow,
  • For the insult that pierces
  • My heart like an arrow.

  Voice 3.

  • Hear my cry, mother Night,
  • ’Gainst the gods that deceived me!
  • With their harsh-handed might
  • Of my right they bereaved me.

  Athena

  • To advise thee well I faint not. Never more
  • Shalt thou, a hoary-dated power, complain
  • That I, a younger, or my citizens,
  • From our inhospitable gates expelled thee
  • Of thy due honors shortened. If respect
  • For sacred Peitho’s* godhead, for the honey
  • And charming of the tongue may move thee, stay;
  • But, if ye will go, show of justice none
  • Remains, with rancour, wrath, and scathe to smite
  • This land and people. Stands your honoured lot
  • With me for ever, so ye scorn it not.

  Chorus.

  Sovran Athena, what sure home receives me?

  Athena.

  A home from sorrow free. Receive it freely.

  Chorus.

  And when received, what honors wait me then?

  Athena.

  No house shall prosper where thy blessing fails.

  Chorus.

  This by thy grace is sure?

  Athena.

  • I will upbuild
  • His house who honours thee.

  Chorus.

  This pledged for ever?

  Athena.

  I cannot promise what I not perform

  Chorus.

  • Thy words have soothed me, and my wrath relents.

  Athena.

  Here harboured thou wilt number many friends.

  Chorus

  Say, then, how shall my hymn uprise to bless thee?

  Athena

  • Hymn things that strike fair victory’s mark: from Earth,
  • From the sea’s briny dew, and from the sky
  • Bring blessings, the benignly-breathing gales
  • On summer wings be wafted to this land,
  • Let the Earth swell with the exuberant flow
  • Of fruits and flowers, that want may be unknown.
  • Bless human seed with increase, but cast out
  • The impious man; even as a gardener, I
  • Would tend the flowers, the briars and the thorns
  • Heaped for the burning. This thy province I
  • In feats of Mars conspicuous will not fail
  • To plant this city ’fore all eyes triumphant.

  STROPHE I.

  Chorus.

  • Pallas, thy welcome so kindly compelling
  • Hath moved me; I scorn not to mingle my dwelling
  • With thine, and with Jove’s, the all-ruling, thy sire.
  • The city I scorn not, where Mars guards the portals,
  • The fortress of gods,56 the fair grace of Immortals.
  • I bless thee prophetic; to work thy desire
  • To the Sun, when he shines in his full-flooded splendour,
  • Her tribute to thee may the swelling Earth render,
  • And bounty with bounty conspire!

  Athena.

  • Athens, no trifling gain I’ve won thee.
  • With rich blessing thou shalt harbour,
  • Through my grace, these much-prevailing
  • Sternest-hearted Powers. For they
  • Rule, o’er human fates appointed,
  • With far-reaching sway.
  • Woe to the wretch, by their wrath smitten!57
  • With strokes he knows not whence descending,
  • Not for his own, for guilt inherited,58
  • They with silent-footed vengeance
  • Shall o’ertake him: in the dust,
  • Heaven with piercing cries imploring,
  • Crushed the sinner lies.

  ANTISTROPHE I.

  Chorus.

  • Far from thy dwelling, and far from thy border,
  • By the grace of my godhead benignant I order
  • The blight that may blacken the bloom of thy trees.
  • Far from thy border, and far from thy dwelling
  • Be the hot blast that shrivels the bud in its swelling,
  • The seed-rotting taint, and the creeping disease!
  • Thy flocks still be doubled, thy seasons be steady,
  • And, when Hermes is near thee,59 thy hand still be ready
  • The Heaven-dropt bounty to seize!

  Athena.

  • Hear her words, my city’s warders,
  • Fraught with blessing; she prevaileth
  • With Olympians and Infernals,
  • Dread Erinnys much revered.
  • Mortal fates she guideth plainly
  • To what goal she pleaseth, sending
  • Songs to some, to others days
  • With tearful sorrows dulled.

  STROPHE II.

  Chorus.

  • Far from your dwelling
  • Be death’s early knelling,
  • When falls in his green strength the strong
  • Your virgins, the fairest,
  • To brave youths the rarest
  • Be mated, glad life to prolong!
  • Ye Fates, high-presiding,60
  • The right well dividing,
  • Dread powers darkly mothered with me;
  • Our firm favour sharing,
  • From judgment unsparing
  • The homes of the just man be free!
  • But the guilty shall fear them,
  • When in terror shall near them
  • The Fates, sternly sistered with me.

  Athena.

  • Work your perfect will, dread maidens,
  • O’er my land benignly watching!
  • I rejoice. Blest be the eyes
  • Of Peitho, that with strong persuasion
  • Armed my tongue, to soothe the fierce
  • Refusal of these awful maids.
  • Jove, that rules the forum, nobly
  • In the high debate hath conquered.61
  • In the strife of blessing now,
  • You with me shall vie for ever.

  ANTISTROPHE II.

  Chorus

  • Far from thy border
  • The lawless disorder,
  • That sateless of evil shall reign!
  • Far from thy dwelling
  • The dear blood welling,
  • That taints thy own hearth with the stain,
  • When slaughter from slaughter
  • Shall flow, like the water,
  • And rancour from rancour shall grow!
  • But joy with joy blending
  • Live, each to all lending,
  • And hating one-hearted the foe!
  • When bliss hath departed,
  • From will single-hearted,
  • A fountain of healing shall flow.

  Athena.

  • Wisely now the tongue of kindness
  • Thou hast found, the way of love;
  • And these terror-speaking faces
  • Now look wealth to me and mine.
  • Her so willing, ye more willing
  • Now receive, this land and city,
  • On ancient right securely throned,
  • Shall shine for evermore

  STROPHE III

  Chorus.

  • Hail, and all hail! mighty people be greeted!
  • On the sons of Athena shine sunshine the clearest!
  • Blest people, near Jove the Olympian seated,
  • And dear to the virgin his daughter the dearest.
  • Timely wise ’neath the wings of the daughter ye gather;
  • And mildly looks down on her children the father.

  Athena.

  • Hail, all hail to you! but chiefly
  • Me behoves it now to lead you
  • To your fore-appointed homes.
  • Go, with holy train attendant,
  • With sacrifice, and torch resplendent.
  • Underneath the ground.
  • Go, and with your potent godhead
  • Quell the ill that threats the city,
  • Spur the good to victory’s goal.
  • Lead the way ye sons of Cranaus,*
  • To these strangers, strange no more;
  • Their kindly thoughts to you remember,
  • Grateful evermore.

  ANTISTROPHE III.

  Chorus.

  • Hail, yet again, with this last salutation,
  • Ye sons of Athena, ye citizens all!
  • On gods, and on mortals, in high congregation
  • Assembled, my blessing not vainly shall fall.
  • O city of Pallas, while thou shalt revere me,
  • Thy walls hold the pledge that no harm shall come near thee.

  Athena.

  • Well hymned. My heart chimes with you, and I send
  • The beamy-twinkling torches to conduct you
  • To your dark-vaulted chambers ’neath the ground.
  • They who attend my shrine, with pious homage,
  • Shall be your convoy. The fair eye of the land,
  • The marshalled host of Theseus’ sons shall march
  • In festive train with you, both man and woman,
  • Matron and maid, green youth and hoary age.
  • Honor the awful maids, clad with the grace
  • Of purple-tinctured robes; and let the flame
  • March ’fore their path bright-rayed; and, evermore,
  • With populous wealth smile every Attic rood
  • Blessed by this gracious-minded sisterhood.62

  Convoy,conducting theEumenidesin festal pomp to their subterranean temple, with torches in their hands:

  • STROPHE I.
  • Go with honor crowned and glory,
  • Of hoary Night the daughters hoary,
  • To your destined hall.
  • Where our sacred train is wending,
  • Stand, ye pious throngs attending,
  • Hushed in silence all.
  • ANTISTROPHE I.
  • Go to hallowed habitations,
  • ’Neath Ogygian* Earth’s foundations:
  • In that darksome hall
  • Sacrifice and supplication
  • Shall not fail. In adoration
  • Silent worship all.
  • STROPHE II.
  • Here, in caverned halls, abiding,
  • High on awful thrones presiding,
  • Gracious ye shall reign.
  • March in torches’ glare rejoicing!
  • Sing, ye throngs, their praises, voicing
  • Loud the exultant strain!
  • ANTISTROPHE II.
  • Blazing torch, and pure libation
  • From age to age this pious nation
  • Shall not use in vain.
  • Thus hath willed it Jove all-seeing,
  • Thus the Fate. To their decreeing
  • Shout the responsive strain!

  NOTES TO THE EUMENIDES

  PROMETHEUS BOUND
  
  A LYRICO-DRAMATIC SPECTACLE

  • Δη̂σε δ’ἀλυκτοπέδ[Editor: illegible character]σι Προμηθέα ποικιλόβουλην
  • Δεσμοɩ̂ς ἀργαλέοισι.

  • Hesiod.

  • Neither to change, nor flatter, nor repent.

  • Shelley.

  PERSONS

  Might and Force, Ministers of Jove.

  Hephaesthus or Vulcan, the God of Fire.

  Prometheus, Son of Iapetus, a Titan.

  Chorus of Oceanides.

  Oceanus.

  Io, Daughter of Inachus, King of Argos.

  Hermes, Messenger of the Gods.

  Scene—A Rocky Desert in European Scythia.

  INTRODUCTORY REMARKS

  • Vain the wit is of the wisest to deceive the mind of Jove;
  • Not Prometheus, son of Iapetus, though his heart was moved by love,
  • Might escape the heavy anger of the god that rules the skies,
  • But, despite of all his cunning, with a strong chain bound he lies.

  • Theog. 613.

  Those who are acquainted with the philological learning on this subject, which I have discussed elsewhere,* or even with the common ideas on the legend of Prometheus brought into circulation by the productions of modern poetry, are aware that the view just given of the moral significance of this weighty old myth, is not the current one, and that we are rather accustomed to look upon Prometheus as a sort of proto-martyr of liberty, bearing up with the strength of a god against the punishment unjustly inflicted on him by the celestial usurper and tyrant, Jove But Hesiod, we have just seen, looks on the matter with very different eyes, and the unquestioned supremacy of Jove that stands out everywhere, from the otherwise not always consistent theological system of the Iliad, leads plainly to the conclusion that Homer also, had he had occasion to introduce this legend, would have handled it in a spirit altogether different from our Shelleys and Byrons, and other earth-shaking and heaven-scaling poets of the modern revolutionary school. As little is there any ground (see the life of Æschylus, vol. I.) for the supposition that our tragedian has taken up different theological ground in reference to this myth, from that which belonged to the two great expositors of the popular creed, not to mention the staring absurdity of the idea, that a grave tragic poet in a serious composition, at a public religious festival, should have dared, or daring, should have been allowed, to hold up their supreme deity to a nation of freemen in the character of a cruel and unjust tyrant. Thrown back, therefore, on the original Hesiodic conception of the myth, we are led to observe that the imperfect and unsatisfactory ideas so current on this subject in modern times, have taken their rise from the practice (so natural under the circumstances) of looking on the extant piece as a complete whole, whereas nothing is more certain than that it is only a fragment; the second part, in fact, of a dramatic trilogy similar in conception and execution to that, of which we have endeavoured to present a reflection in the preceding pages. Potter, in his translation published a hundred years ago, prefaced his version of the present piece with the well-known fact, that Æschylus wrote three plays on this subject—the Fire-bringing Prometheus, the Prometheus Bound, and the Prometheus Unbound—but this intimation was not sufficient to prevent his readers, with the usual hastiness of human logic, from judging of what they saw, as if it were an organic whole, containing within itself every element necessary for forming a true conception of its character. The consequence was, that the hero of the piece, who, of course, tells his own story in the most favourable way for himself, was considered as having passed a final judgment on the case, as the friend and representative of man, he naturally seemed entitled to the gratitude of men; while Jove, being now only an idol in the world (perhaps a devil), and having no advocate in the heart of the modern reader, was made to stand—on the representation of the same Prometheus—as the type of heartless tyranny, and the impersonation of absolute power combined with absolute selfishness. This is Shelley’s view; but that such was not the view of Æschylus we may be assured, both from the consideration already mentioned, and from the poet’s method of reconciling apparently incompatible claims of opposite celestial powers, so curiously exhibited in the Eumenides. In the trilogy of the preceding pages, Orestes stands in a situation, so far as the development of the plot is concerned, precisely analogous to that of Prometheus in the present piece. His conduct, as submitted to the moral judgment of the spectator, produces the same conflict of contrary emotions of which his own bosom is the victim. With the one-half of our heart we approve of his avenging his father’s murder; with the other half, we plead that a son shall, on no ground of offence, allow his indignation to proceed so far as to imbrue his hands in the blood of her whose milk he had sucked. This contrariety of emotions excited in the second piece of the trilogy, produces the tragic knot, which it is the business of the poet to unloose, by the worthy interposition of a god. “Nec Deus intersit, nisi dignus vindice nodus.”—Exactly so in the second piece of the Promethean trilogy, our moral judgment praises the benevolence of the god, who, to elevate our human race from brutish degradation, dared to defy omnipotent power, and to deceive the wisdom of the omniscient; while, at the same time, we cannot but condemn the spirit of unreined independence that would shake itself free from the great centre of moral cohesion, and the reckless boldness that casts reproach in the face of the great Ruler of the universe. In this state of suspense, represented by the doubtful attitude of the Chorus* through the whole play, the present fragment of the great Æschylean Promethiad leaves the well-instructed modern reader; and it admits not, in my view, of a doubt that, in the concluding piece, it remained for the poet to effect a reconciliation between the contending interests and clashing emotions, somewhat after the fashion of which we possess a specimen in the Eumenides. By what agency of individuals or of arguments this was done, it is hopeless now to inquire; the fragmentary notices that remain are too meagre to justify a scientific restoration of the lost drama; they who wish to see what erudite imagination can do in this direction may consult Welcker and Schoemann—Welcker, in the shape of prose dissertation in his Trilogie, p. 28; and Schoemann, in the shape of a poetical restoration of the lost poem, in the Appendix to his very valuable edition of this play. About one thing only can we be certain, that, in the ultimate settlement of disputed claims, neither will Prometheus, on the one hand, be degraded from the high position on which the poet has planted him as a sort of umpire between gods and men, nor will Jove yield one whit of his supreme right to exact the bitterest penalties from man or god who presumes to act independently of, and even in opposition to his will. The tragic poet will duly exercise his grand function of keeping the powers of the celestial world—as he does the contending emotions of the human mind—in due equipoise and subordination.*

  The plot of the Prometheus Bound is the simplest possible, being not so much the dramatic progression of a course of events, as a single dramatic situation presented through the whole piece under different aspects. The theft of fire from Heaven, or (as the notice of Cicero seems to indicate) from the Lemnian volcano of Mosychlos,† having been perpetrated in the previous piece, Might and Force, two allegorical personages, the ministers of Jove’s vengeance, are now introduced, along with Hephaestus, the forger of celestial chains, nailing the benevolent offender to a cold craggy rock in the wastes of European Scythia. In this condition when, after a long silence, he at length gives vent to his complaint, certain kindred divine persons—first, the Oceanides, or daughters of Ocean, and then their hoary sire himself, are brought on the scene, with words of solace and friendly exhortation to the sufferer.‡ When all the arguments that these parties have to advance are exhausted in vain, another mythic personage, of a different character, and for a different purpose, appears. This is Io, the daughter of Inachus, the primeval king of Argos, who, having enjoyed the unblissful distinction of stirring the heart of Jove with love, is, by the jealous wrath of Hera, transmuted into the likeness of a cow,* and sent wandering to the ends of the Earth, fretted into restless distraction by the stings of a malignant insect. This character serves a threefold purpose. First, as a sufferer, tracing the origin of all her misery from Jove, she both sympathizes strongly with Prometheus, and exhibits the character of Jove in another unfavourable aspect; secondly, with her wild maniac cries and reinless fits of distraction, she presents a fine contrast to the calm self-possession with which the stout-hearted Titan endures the penalty of his pride; and, in the third place, as the progenitrix of the Argive Hercules, the destined instrument of the delivery of Prometheus, she connects the middle with the concluding piece of the trilogy. Last of all, when this strange apparition has vanished, appears on the scene the great Olympian negotiator, Hermes; who, with the eloquence peculiar to himself, and the threatened terrors of his supreme master, endeavours to break the pride and to bend the will of the lofty-minded offender. In vain. The threatened terrors of the Thunderer now suddenly start into reality; and, amid the roar of contending elements, the pealing Heaven and the quaking Earth, the Jove-defying son of Iapetus descends into Hell.

  The superhuman grandeur and high tragic sublimity which belongs to the very conception of this subject, has suffered nothing in respect of treatment from the genius of the bard who dared to handle it. The Prometheus Bound, though inferior in point of lyric richness and variety to the Agamemnon, and though somewhat overloaded with narrative in one place, is nevertheless felt throughout to be one of the most powerful productions of one of the most powerful minds that the history of literature knows. No work of a similar lofty character certainly has ever been so extensively popular. The Prometheus Unbound of Shelley, and Lord Byron’s Manfred, bear ample witness, of which we may well be proud, to the relationship which exists between the severe Melpomene of ancient Greece, and the lofty British Muse.

  PROMETHEUS BOUND

  EnterMightandForce,leading inPrometheus; Hephaestus,with chains.

  Might.

  • At length the utmost bound of Earth we’ve reached,
  • This Scythian soil, this wild untrodden waste.1
  • Hephaestus now Jove’s high behests demand
  • Thy care; to these steep cliffy rocks bind down
  • With close-linked chains of during adamant
  • This daring wretch2 For he the bright-rayed fire,
  • Mother of arts, flower of thy potency,
  • Filched from the gods, and gave to mortals. Here,
  • Just guerdon of his sin shall find him; here
  • Let his pride learn to bow to Jove supreme,
  • And love men well, but love them not too much.

  Heph.

  • Ye twain, rude Might and Force, have done your work
  • To the perfect end; but I—my heart shrinks back
  • From the harsh task to nail a kindred god3
  • To this storm-battered crag. Yet dare I must.
  • Where Jove commands, whoso neglects rebels,
  • And pays the traitor’s fine. High-counselled son
  • Of right-decreeing Themis,4 I force myself
  • No less than thee, when to this friendless rock
  • With iron bonds I chain thee, where nor shape
  • Nor voice of wandering mortal shall relieve
  • Thy lonely watch; but the fierce-burning sun
  • Shall parch and bleach thy fresh complexion. Thou,
  • When motley-mantled Night* hath hid the day,
  • Shalt greet the darkness, with how short a joy!
  • For the morn’s sun the nightly dew shall scatter,
  • And thou be pierced again with the same pricks
  • Of endless woe—and saviour shall be none.5
  • Such fruits thy forward love to men hath wrought thee.
  • Thyself a god, the wrath of gods to thee
  • Seemed little, and to men thou didst dispense
  • Forbidden gifts. For this thou shalt keep watch
  • On this delightless rock, fixed and erect,
  • With lid unsleeping, and with knee unbent.
  • Alas! what groans and wails shalt thou pour forth,
  • Fruitless. Jove is not weak that he should bend,6
  • For young authority must ever be
  • Harsh and severe.

  Might

  • Enough of words and tears.
  • This god, whom all the gods detest, wilt thou
  • Not hate, thou, whom his impious larceny
  • Did chiefly injure?

  Heph.

  But, my friend, my kinsman—

  Might.

  • True, that respect; but the dread father’s word
  • Respect much more. Jove’s word respect and fear.

  Heph.

  • Harsh is thy nature, and thy heart is full
  • Of pitiless daring.

  Might.

  • Tears were wasted here,
  • And labour lost is all concern for him

  Heph.

  O thrice-cursed trade, that e’er my hand should use it!

  Might.

  • Curse not thy craft; the cunning of thy hand
  • Makes not his woes; he made them for himself.

  Heph.

  • Would that some other hand had drawn the lot
  • To do this deed!

  Might.

  • All things may be, but this
  • To dictate to the gods.7 There’s one that’s free,
  • One only, Jove.

  Heph

  I know it, and am dumb.

  Might

  • Then gird thee to the work, chain down the culprit,
  • Lest Jove thy laggard zeal behold, and blame.

  Heph.

  The irons here are ready.

  Might.

  • Take them, and strike
  • Stout blows with the hammer; nail him to the rock.

  Heph.

  The work speeds well, and lingers not.

  Might.

  • Strike! strike!
  • With ring, and clamp, and wedge make sure the work.
  • He hath a subtle wit will find itself
  • A way where way is none.

  Heph.

  This arm is fast.

  Might.

  • Then clasp this other. Let the sophist know,
  • Against great Jove how dull a thing is wit.

  Heph

  None but the victim can reprove my zeal.

  Might.

  • Now take this adamantine bolt, and force
  • Its point resistless through his rebel breast.

  Heph.

  • Alas! alas! Prometheus, but I pity thee!

  Might.

  • Dost lag again, and for Jove’s enemies weep
  • Fond tears? Beware thou have no cause to weep
  • Tears for thyself.

  Heph.

  • Thou see’st no sightly sight
  • For eyes to look on.

  Might.

  • I behold a sower
  • Reaping what thing he sowed. But take these thongs,
  • And bind his sides withal.

  Heph.

  • I must! I must!
  • Nor needs thy urging.

  Might.

  • Nay, but I will urge,
  • Command, and bellow in thine ear! Proceed,
  • Lower—yet lower—and with these iron rings
  • Enclasp his legs.

  Heph.

  ’Tis done, and quickly done.

  Might.

  • Now pierce his feet through with these nails. Strike hard!
  • There’s one will sternly prove thy work, and thee.

  Heph.

  Harsh is thy tongue, and, like thy nature, hard.

  Might.

  • Art thou a weakling, do not therefore blame
  • The firm harsh-fronted will that suits my office.

  Heph.

  Let us away. He’s fettered limb and thew.

  Might.

  • There lie, and feed thy pride on this bare rock,
  • Filching gods’ gifts for mortal men. What man
  • Shall free thee from these woes? Thou hast been called
  • In vain the Provident:8 had thy soul possessed
  • The virtue of thy name, thou hadst foreseen
  • These cunning toils, and hadst unwound thee from them.

  [Exeunt all, exceptPrometheus,who is left chained.

  Prom.

  9

  • O divine ether, and swift-winged winds,
  • And river-fountains, and of ocean waves
  • The multitudinous laughter,10 and thou Earth,
  • Boon mother of us all, and thou bright round
  • Of the all-seeing Sun, you I invoke!
  • Behold what ignominy of causeless wrongs
  • I suffer from the gods, myself a god.
  • See what piercing pains shall goad me
  • Through long ages myraid-numbered!
  • With such wrongful chains hath bound me
  • This new leader of the gods.
  • Ah me! present woes and future
  • I bemoan. O! when, O! when
  • Shall the just redemption dawn.
  • Yet why thus prate? I know what ills await me.
  • No unexpected torture can surprise
  • My soul prophetic; and with quiet mind
  • We all must bear our portioned fate, nor idly
  • Court battle with a strong necessity.
  • Alas! alas! ’tis hard to speak to the winds;
  • Still harder to be dumb! my well-deservings
  • To mortal men are all the offence that bowed me
  • Beneath this yoke. The secret fount of fire
  • I sought, and found, and in a reed concealed it;11
  • Whence arts have sprung to man, and life hath drawn
  • Rich store of comforts For such deed I suffer
  • These bonds, in the broad eye of gracious day,
  • Here crucified Ah me! ah me! who comes?12
  • What sound, what viewless breath, thus taints the air,
  • God sent, or mortal, or of mingled kind?
  • What errant traveller ill-sped comes to view
  • This naked ridge of extreme Earth, and me?
  • Whoe’er thou art, a hapless god thou see’st
  • Nailed to this crag, the foe of Jove thou seest.
  • Him thou see’st, whom all the Immortals
  • Whoso tread the Olympian threshold,
  • Name with hatred; thou beholdest
  • Man’s best friend, and, therefore, hated
  • For excess of love.
  • Hark, again! I hear the whirring
  • As of winged birds approaching;
  • With the light strokes of their pinions
  • Ether pipes ill-boding whispers!—
  • Alas! alas! that I should fear
  • Each breath that nears me.

  TheOceanidesapproach, borne through the air in a winged car.

  STROPHE I.

  Chorus.

  • Fear nothing; for a friendly band approaches;
  • Fleet rivalry of wings
  • Oar’d us to this far height, with hard consent
  • Wrung from our careful sire
  • The winds swift-sweeping bore me: for I heard
  • The harsh hammer’s note deep deep in ocean caves,
  • And, throwing virgin shame aside, unshod
  • The winged car I mounted.

  Prom.

  • Ah! ah!
  • Daughters of prolific Tethys,13
  • And of ancient father Ocean,
  • With his sleepless current whirling
  • Round the firm ball of the globe
  • Look! with rueful eyes behold me
  • Nailed by adamantine rivets,
  • Keeping weary watch unenvied
  • On this tempest-rifted rock!

  ANTISTROPHE I.

  Chorus.

  • I look, Prometheus, and a tearful cloud
  • My woeful sight bedims,
  • To see thy goodliest form with insult chained,
  • In adamantine bonds,
  • To this bare crag, where pinching airs shall blast thee.
  • New gods now hold the helm of Heaven; new laws
  • Mark Jove’s unrighteous rule; the giant trace
  • Of Titan times hath vanished.14

  Prom.

  • Deep in death-receiving Hades
  • Had he bound me, had he whelmed me
  • In Tartarean pit, unfathomed,
  • Fettered with unyielding bonds!
  • Then nor god nor man had feasted
  • Eyes of triumph on my wrongs,
  • Nor I, thus swung in middle ether,*
  • Moved the laughter of my foes.

  STROPHE II.

  Chorus.

  • Which of the gods hath heart so hard
  • To mock thy woes? Who will withhold
  • The fellow-feeling and the tear,
  • Save only Jove But he doth nurse
  • Strong wrath within his stubborn breast,
  • And holds all Heaven in awe.
  • Nor will he cease till his hot rage is glutted,
  • Or some new venture shakes his stable throne.

  Prom.

  • By my Titan soul, I swear it!
  • Though with harsh chains now he mocks me,
  • Even now the hour is ripening,
  • When this haughty lord of Heaven
  • Shall embrace my knees, beseeching
  • Me to unveil the new-forged counsels
  • That shall hurl him from his throne.15
  • But no honey-tongued persuasion,
  • No smooth words of artful charming,
  • No stout threats shall loose my tongue,
  • Till he loose these bonds of insult,
  • And himself make just atonement
  • For injustice done to me.

  ANTISTROPHE II.

  Chorus.

  • Thou art a bold man, and defiest
  • The keenest pangs to force thy will.
  • With a most unreined tongue thou speakest;
  • But me—sharp fear hath pierced my heart.
  • I fear for thee: and of thy woes
  • The distant, doubtful end
  • I see not. O, ’tis hard, most hard to reach
  • The heart of Jove!16 prayer beats his ear in vain.

  Prom

  • Harsh is Jove, I know—he frameth
  • Justice for himself; but soon,
  • When the destined arm o’ertakes him,
  • He shall tremble as a child.
  • He shall smooth his bristling anger,
  • Courting friendship shunned before,
  • More importunate to unbind me
  • Than impatient I of bonds.

  Chorus

  • Speak now, and let us know the whole offence
  • Jove charges thee withal, for which he seized,
  • And with dishonor and dire insult loads thee.
  • Unfold the tale, unless, perhaps, such sorrow
  • Irks thee to tell.

  Prom.

  • To tell or not to tell
  • Irks me the same; which way I turn is pain.
  • When first the gods their fatal strife began,
  • And insurrection raged in Heaven—some striving
  • To cast old Kronos from his hoary throne,
  • That Jove might reign, and others to crush i’ the bud
  • His swelling mastery—I wise counsel gave
  • To the Titans, sons of primal Heaven and Earth;
  • But gave in vain Their dauntless stubborn souls
  • Spurned gentle ways, and patient-working wiles,
  • Weening swift triumph with a blow. But me,
  • My mother Themis, not once but oft, and Earth
  • (One shape of various names),17 prophetic told
  • That violence and rude strength in such a strife
  • Were vain—craft haply might prevail. This lesson
  • I taught the haughty Titans, but they deigned
  • Scarce with contempt to hear my prudent words.
  • Thus baffled in my plans, I deemed it best,
  • As things then were, leagued with my mother Themis,
  • To accept Jove’s proffered friendship. By my counsels
  • From his primeval throne was Kronos* hurled
  • Into the pit Tartarean, dark, profound,
  • With all his troop of friends. Such was the kindness
  • From me received by him who now doth hold
  • The masterdom of Heaven; these the rewards
  • Of my great zeal: for so it hath been ever.
  • Suspicion’s a disease that cleaves to tyrants,
  • And they who love most are the first suspected.18
  • As for your question, for what present fault
  • I bear the wrong that now afflicts me, hear.
  • Soon as he sat on his ancestral throne
  • He called the gods together, and assigned
  • To each his fair allotment, and his sphere
  • Of sway supreme; but, ah! for wretched man!
  • To him nor part nor portion fell: Jove vowed
  • To blot his memory from the Earth, and mould
  • The race anew.† I only of the gods
  • Thwarted his will;19 and, but for my strong aid,
  • Hades had whelmed, and hopeless ruin swamped
  • All men that breathe. Such were my crimes: these pains
  • Grievous to suffer, pitiful to behold,
  • Were purchased thus; and mercy’s now denied
  • To him whose crime was mercy to mankind:
  • And here I lie, in cunning torment stretched,20
  • A spectacle inglorious to Jove.

  Chorus.

  • An iron-heart were his, and flinty hard,
  • Who on thy woes could look without a tear,
  • Prometheus; I had liefer not so seen thee,
  • And seeing thee fain would call mine eyesight liar.

  Prom.

  Certes no sight am I for friends to look on.

  Chorus.

  Was this thy sole offence?

  Prom.

  • I taught weak mortals
  • Not to foresee harm, and forestall the Fates.

  Chorus.

  • A sore disease to anticipate mischance:
  • How didst thou cure it?

  Prom.

  • Blind hopes of good I planted
  • In their dark breasts.21

  Chorus.

  • That was a boon indeed,
  • To ephemeral man.

  Prom.

  Nay more, I gave them fire.

  Chorus.

  And flame-faced fire is now enjoyed by mortals?22

  Prom.

  Enjoyed, and of all arts the destined mother.

  Chorus.

  • And is this all the roll of thy offendings
  • That he should rage so fierce? Hath he not set
  • Bounds to his vengeance?

  Prom.

  None, but his own pleasure.

  Chorus.

  • And when shall he please? Vain the hope; thou see’st
  • That thou hast erred, and that thou hast to us
  • No pleasure brings, to thee excess of pain.
  • Of this enough. Seek now to cure the evil.

  Prom.

  • ’Tis a light thing for him whose foot’s unwarped
  • By misadventure’s meshes to advise
  • And counsel the unfortunate. But I
  • Foreknew my fate, and if I erred, I erred
  • With conscious purpose, purchasing man’s weal
  • With mine own grief. I knew I should offend
  • The Thunderer, though deeming not that he
  • Would perch me thus to pine ’twixt Earth and Sky,
  • Of this wild wintry waste sole habitant.
  • But cease to weep for ills that weeping mends not;
  • Descend, and I’ll discourse to thee at length
  • Of chances yet to come. Nay, do not doubt;
  • But leave thy car, nor be ashamed to share
  • The afflictions of the afflicted; for Mishap,
  • Of things that lawless wander, wanders most;
  • With me to-day it is with you to-morrow.

  Chorus.

  • Not to sluggish ears, Prometheus,
  • Hast thou spoken thy desire,
  • From our breeze-borne car descending,
  • With light foot we greet the ground.
  • Leaving ether chaste, smooth pathway
  • Of the gently-winnowing wing,
  • On this craggy rock I stand,
  • To hear the tale, while thou mayst tell it,
  • Of thy sorrows to the end.

  EnterOcean.23

  Ocean.

  • From my distant caves cerulean24
  • This fleet-pinioned bird hath borne me;
  • Needed neither bit nor bridle,
  • Thought instinctive reined the creature;
  • Thus, to know thy griefs, Prometheus,
  • And to grieve with thee I come
  • Soothly strong the tie of kindred
  • Binds the heart of man and god;
  • But, though no such tie had bound me,
  • I had wept for thee the same.
  • Well thou know’st not mine the cunning
  • To discourse with glozing phrase:
  • Tell me how I may relieve thee,
  • I am ready to relieve;
  • Friend thou boastest none than Ocean
  • Surer, in the hour of need.

  Prom.

  • How now, old Ocean? thou too come to view
  • My dire disasters?—how shouldst thou have dared,
  • Leaving the billowy stream whose name thou bearest,
  • Thy rock-roofed halls, and self-built palaces,
  • To visit this Scythian land, stern mother of iron,
  • To know my sorrows, and to grieve with me?
  • Look on this sight—thy friend, the friend of Jove,
  • Who helped him to the sway which now he bears,
  • Crushed by the self-same god himself exalted.

  Ocean.

  • I see, Prometheus; and I come to speak
  • A wise word to the wise; receive it wisely.
  • Know what thou art, and make thy manners new;
  • For a new king doth rule the subject gods.
  • Compose thy speech, nor cast such whetted words
  • ’Gainst Jove, who, though he sits apart sublime,
  • Hath ears, and with new pains may smite his victim,
  • To which his present wrath shall seem a toy.
  • Listen to me, slack thy fierce ire, and seek
  • Speedy deliverance from these woes. Trite wisdom
  • Belike I speak, Prometheus; but thou knowest
  • A lofty-sounding tongue with passionate phrase
  • Buys its own ruin. Proud art thou, unyielding,
  • And heap’st new woes tenfold on thine own head.
  • Why should’st thou kick against the pricks? Jove reigns
  • A lord severe, and of his acts need give
  • Account to none. I go to plead for thee,
  • And, what I can, will try to save my kinsman;
  • But be thou calm the while, curb thy rash speech,
  • And let not fame report, that one so wise
  • Fell by the forfeit of a foolish tongue.

  Prom.

  • Count thyself happy, Ocean, being free
  • From blame, who shared and dared with me. Be wise,
  • And what thy meddling aids not, let alone.
  • In vain thou plead’st with him; his ears are deaf.
  • Look to thyself: thy errand is not safe.

  Ocean.

  • Wise art thou, passing wise, for others’ weal,
  • For thine own good most foolish. Prithee do not
  • So stretch thy stubborn whim to pull against
  • The friends that pull for thee. ’Tis no vain boast;
  • I know that Jove will hear me.

  Prom.

  • Thou art kind;
  • And for thy kind intent and friendly feeling
  • Have my best thanks. But do not, I beseech thee,
  • Waste labour upon me. If thou wilt labour,
  • Seek a more hopeful subject. Thou wert wiser,
  • Being safe, to keep thee safe. I, when I suffer,
  • Wish not that all my friends should suffer with me.
  • Enough my brother Atlas’ miseries grieve me.25
  • Who in the extreme West stands, stoutly bearing
  • The pillars of Heaven and Earth upon his shoulders,26
  • No lightsome burden. Him too, I bewail,
  • That made his home in dark Cilician caverns.
  • The hostile portent, Earth-born, hundred-headed
  • Impetuous Typhon,27 quelled by force, who stood
  • Alone, against the embattled host of gods,
  • Hissing out murder from his monstrous jaws;
  • And from his eyes there flashed a Gorgon glare,
  • As he would smite the tyranny of great Jove
  • Clean down; but he, with sleepless thunder watching,
  • Hurl’d headlong a flame-breathing bolt, and laid
  • The big-mouthed vaunter low. Struck to the heart
  • With blasted strength, and shrunk to ashes, there
  • A huge and helpless hulk, outstretched he lies,
  • Beside the salt sea’s strait, pressed down beneath
  • The roots of Ætna, on whose peaks Hephaestus
  • Sits hammering the hot metal. Thence, one day,
  • Shall streams of liquid fire, swift passage forcing,
  • With savage jaws the wide-spread plains devour
  • Of the fair-fruited Sicilly. Such hot shafts,
  • From the flame-breathing ferment of the deep,
  • Shall Typhon cast with sateless wrath, though now
  • All scorched and cindered by the Thunderer’s stroke,
  • Moveless he lies. But why should I teach thee?
  • Thou art a wise man, thine own wisdom use
  • To save thyself. For me, I’ll even endure
  • These pains, till Jove shall please to slack his ire.

  Ocean.

  • Know’st thou not this, Prometheus, that mild words
  • Are medicines of fierce wrath?28

  Prom

  • They are, when spoken
  • In a mild hour; but the high-swelling heart
  • They do but fret the more.

  Ocean.

  • But, in the attempt
  • To ward the threatened harm, what evil see’st thou?

  Prom.

  Most bootless toil, and folly most inane.

  Ocean.

  • Be it so; but yet ’tis sometimes well, believe me,
  • That a wise man should seem to be a fool.

  Prom.

  Seem fool, seem wise, I, in the end, am blamed.

  Ocean.

  Thy reckless words reluctant send me home.

  Prom.

  Beware, lest love for me make thyself hated.

  Ocean.

  • Of whom? Of him, who, on the all-powerful throne
  • Sits, a new lord?

  Prom.

  • Even him. Beware thou vex not
  • Jove’s jealous heart.

  Ocean.

  In this, thy fate shall warn me.

  Prom.

  • Away! farewell; and may the prudent thoughts,
  • That sway thy bosom now, direct thee ever.

  Ocean.

  • I go, and quickly. My four-footed bird
  • Brushes the broad path of the limpid air
  • With forward wing: right gladly will he bend
  • The wearied knee on his familiar stall.
  • CHORAL HYMN.
    STROPHE I.
  • Thy dire disasters, unexampled wrongs,
  • I weep, Prometheus.
  • From its soft founts distilled the flowing tear
  • My cheek bedashes.
  • ’Tis hard, most hard! By self-made laws Jove rules,
  • And ’gainst the host of primal gods he points
  • The lordly spear.
  • ANTISTROPHE I.
  • With echoing groans the ambient waste bewails
  • Thy fate, Prometheus;
  • The neighbouring tribes of holy Asia weep
  • For thee, Prometheus;29
  • For thee and thine! names mighty and revered
  • Of yore, now shamed, dishonoured, and cast down,
  • And chained with thee.
  • STROPHE II.
  • And Colchis, with her belted daughters, weeps
  • For thee, Prometheus,
  • And Scythian tribes, on Earth’s remotest verge,
  • Where lone Mæotis* spreads her wintry waters,
  • Do weep for thee.
  • ANTISTROPHE II.
  • The flower of Araby’s wandering warriors weep
  • For thee, Prometheus;30
  • And they who high their airy holds have perched
  • On Caucasus’ ridge, with pointed lances bristling,
  • Do weep for thee.
  • EPODE.
  • One only vexed like thee, and even as thou,
  • In adamant bound,
  • A Titan, and a god scorned by the gods,
  • Atlas I knew.
  • He on his shoulders the surpassing weight
  • Of the celestial pole stoutly upbore,
  • And groaned beneath.
  • Roars billowy Ocean, and the Deep sucks back
  • Its waters when he sobs; from Earth’s dark caves
  • Deep hell resounds,
  • The fountains of the holy-streaming rivers
  • Do moan with him.

  Prom.

  • Deem me not self-willed, nor with pride high-strung,
  • That I am dumb, my heart is gnawed to see
  • Myself thus mocked and jeered. These gods, to whom
  • Owe they their green advancement but to me?
  • But this ye know, and, not to teach the taught,
  • I’ll speak of it no more. Of human kind,
  • My great offence in aiding them, in teaching
  • The babe to speak, and rousing torpid mind
  • To take the grasp of itself—of this I’ll talk;
  • Meaning to mortal men no blame, but only
  • The true recital of mine own deserts.
  • For, soothly, having eyes to see they saw not,31
  • And hearing heard not, but like dreamy phantoms,
  • A random life they led from year to year,
  • All blindly floundering on. No craft they knew
  • With woven brick or jointed beam to pile
  • The sunward porch; but in the dark earth burrowed
  • And housed, like tiny ants in sunless caves.
  • No signs they knew to mark the wintry year.
  • The flower-strewn Spring, and the fruit-laden Summer,
  • Uncalendared, unregistered, returned—
  • Till I the difficult art of the stars revealed,
  • Their risings and their settings Numbers, too,
  • I taught them (a most choice device)32 and how
  • By marshalled signs to fix their shifting thoughts,
  • That Memory, mother of Muses, might achieve
  • Her wondrous works. I first slaved to the yoke
  • Both ox and ass. I, the rein-loving steeds
  • (Of wealth’s gay-flaunting pomp the chiefest pride)
  • Joined to the car; and bade them ease the toils
  • Of labouring men vicarious. I the first
  • Upon the lint-winged car of mariner
  • Was launched, sea-wandering. Such wise arts I found
  • To soothe the ills of man’s ephemeral life;
  • But for myself, plunged in this depth of woe,
  • No prop I find.

  Chorus.

  • Sad chance! Thy wit hath slipt
  • From its firm footing then when needed most,
  • Like some unlearned leech who many healed,
  • But being sick himself, from all his store,
  • Cannot cull out one medicinal drug.

  Prom.

  • Hear me yet farther, and in hearing marvel,
  • What arts and curious shifts my wit devised.
  • Chiefest of all, the cure of dire disease
  • Men owe to me. Nor healing food, nor drink,
  • Nor unguent knew they, but did slowly wither
  • And waste away for lack of pharmacy,
  • Till taught by me to mix the soothing drug,
  • And check corruption’s march. I fixed the art
  • Of divination with its various phase
  • Of dim revealings, making dreams speak truth,
  • Stray voices, and encounters by the way
  • Significant; the flight of taloned birds
  • On right and left I marked—these fraught with ban,
  • With blissful augury those; their way of life,
  • Their mutual loves and enmities, their flocks,
  • And friendly gatherings; the entrails’ smoothness,
  • The hue best liked by the gods, the gall, the liver
  • With all its just proportions. I first wrapped
  • In the smooth fat the thighs; first burnt the loins,
  • And from the flickering flame taught men to spell
  • No easy lore, and cleared the fire-faced signs33
  • Obscure before. Yet more: I probed the Earth,
  • To yield its hidden wealth to help man’s weakness—
  • Iron, copper, silver, gold None but a fool,
  • A prating fool, will stint me of this praise.
  • And thus, with one short word to sum the tale,
  • Prometheus taught all arts to mortal men.

  Chorus.

  • Do good to men, but do it with discretion.
  • Why shouldst thou harm thyself? Good hope I nurse
  • To see thee soon from these harsh chains unbound,
  • As free, as mighty, as great Jove himself.

  Prom.

  • This may not be; the destined course of things
  • Fate must accomplish; I must bend me yet
  • ’Neath wrongs on wrongs, ere I may ’scape these bonds.
  • Though Art be strong, Necessity is stronger.

  Chorus.

  And who is lord of strong Necessity?34

  Prom.

  The triform Fates, and the sure-memoried Furies.

  Chorus.

  And mighty Jove himself must yield to them?

  Prom.

  No more than others Jove can ’scape his doom.35

  Chorus.

  What doom?—No doom hath he but endless sway.

  Prom.

  ’Tis not for thee to know: tempt not the question.

  Chorus.

  • There’s some dread mystery in thy chary speech,
  • Close-veiled.

  Prom.

  • Urge this no more: the truth thou’lt know
  • In fitting season; now it lies concealed
  • In deepest darkness! for relenting Jove
  • Himself must woo this secret from my breast.
  • CHORAL HYMN.
    STROPHE I.
  • Never, O never may Jove,
  • Who in Olympus reigns omnipotent lord,
  • Plant his high will against my weak opinion!36
  • Let me approach the gods
  • With blood of oxen and with holy feasts,
  • By father Ocean’s quenchless stream, and pay
  • No backward vows:
  • Nor let my tongue offend; but in my heart
  • Be lowly wisdom graven.
  • ANTISTROPHE I.
  • For thus old Wisdom speaks:
  • Thy life ’tis sweet to cherish, and while the length
  • Of years is thine, thy heart with cheerful hopes
  • And lightsome joys to feed.
  • But thee—ah me! my blood runs cold to see thee,
  • Pierced to the marrow with a thousand pains.
  • Not fearing Jove,
  • Self-willed thou hast respect to man, Prometheus,
  • Much more than man deserveth.
  • STROPHE II.
  • For what is man?* behold!
  • Can he requite thy love—child of a day—
  • Or help thy extreme need? Hast thou not seen
  • The blind and aimless strivings,
  • The barren blank endeavour,
  • The pithless deeds, of the fleeting dreamlike race?
  • Never, O nevermore,
  • May mortal wit Jove’s ordered plan deceive.
  • ANTISTROPHE II.
  • This lore my heart hath learned
  • From sight of thee, and thy sharp pains, Prometheus.
  • Alas! what diverse strain I sang thee then,
  • Around the bridal chamber,
  • And around the bridal bath,
  • When thou my sister fair, Hesione,
  • Won by rich gifts didst lead37
  • From Ocean’s caves thy spousal bed to share.

  Enter Io.38

  • What land is this?—what race of mortals
  • Owns this desert? who art thou,
  • Rock-bound with these wintry fetters,
  • And for what crime tortured thus?
  • Worn and weary with far travel,
  • Tell me where my feet have borne me!
  • O pain! pain! pain! it stings and goads me again,
  • The fateful brize!—save me, O Earth!39 —Avaunt
  • Thou horrible shadow of the Earth-born Argus!
  • Could not the grave close up thy hundred eyes,
  • But thou must come,
  • Haunting my path with thy suspicious look,
  • Unhoused from Hades?
  • Avaunt! avaunt!—why wilt thou hound my track,
  • The famished wanderer on the waste sea-shore?
  • STROPHE.
  • Pipe not thy sounding wax-compacted reed
  • With drowsy drone at me! Ah wretched me!
  • Wandering, still wandering o’er wide Earth, and driven
  • Where? where? O tell me where?
  • O Son of Kronos, in what damned sin
  • Being caught hast thou to misery yoked me thus,
  • Pricked me to desperation, and my heart
  • Pierced with thy furious goads?
  • Blast me with lightnings! bury me in Earth! To the gape
  • Of greedy sea-monsters give me! Hear, O hear
  • My prayer, O King!
  • Enough, enough, these errant toils have tried me;
  • And yet no rest I find: nor when, nor where
  • These woes shall cease may know.

  Chorus.

  40

  Dost hear the plaint of the ox-horned maid?

  Prom

  • How should I not? the Inachian maid who knows not,
  • Stung by the god-sent brize? the maid who smote
  • Jove’s lustful heart with love: and his harsh spouse
  • Hounds her o’er Earth with chase interminable.

  ANTISTROPHE.

  Io

  • My father’s name thou know’st, and my descent!
  • Who art thou? god or mortal? Speak! what charm
  • Gives wretch like thee, the certain clue to know
  • My lamentable fate?
  • Aye, and the god-sent plague thou know’st; the sting
  • That spurs me o’er the far-stretched Earth; the goad
  • That mads me sheer, wastes, withers, and consumes,
  • A worn and famished maid,
  • Whipt by the scourge of jealous Hera’s wrath!
  • Ah me! ah me! Misery has many shapes,
  • But none like mine.
  • O thou, who named my Argive home, declare
  • What ills await me yet; what end, what hope?
  • If hope there be for Io

  Chorus.

  I pray thee speak to the weary way-worn maid.

  Prom.

  • I’ll tell thee all thy wish, not in enigmas
  • Tangled and dark, but in plain phrase, as friend
  • Should speak to friend Thou see’st Prometheus, who
  • To mortal men gifted immortal fire.

  Io

  • O thou, to man a common blessing given,
  • What crime hath bound thee to this wintry rock?

  Prom.

  I have but ceased rehearsing all my wrongs.

  Io.

  And dost thou then refuse the boon I ask?

  Prom.

  What boon? ask what thou wilt, and I will answer.

  Io.

  Say, then, who bound thee to this ragged cliff?

  Prom.

  Stern Jove’s decree, and harsh Hephaestus’ hand.

  Io

  And for what crime?

  Prom.

  Let what I’ve said suffice.

  Io.

  • This, too, I ask—what bound hath fate appointed
  • To my far-wandering toils?

  Prom.

  • This not to know
  • Were better than to learn

  Io.

  • Nay, do not hide
  • This thing from me!

  Prom.

  • If ’tis a boon, believe me,
  • I grudge it not.

  Io.

  Then why so slow to answer?

  Prom.

  I would not crush thee with the cruel truth.

  Io

  Fear not; I choose to hear it.

  Prom.

  Listen then.

  Chorus.

  • Nay, hear me rather. With her own mouth this maid
  • Shall first her bygone woes rehearse; next thou
  • What yet remains shalt tell.

  Prom.

  • Even so. [To Io.] Speak thou;
  • They are the sisters of thy father, Io;41
  • And to wail out our griefs, when they who listen
  • Our troubles with a willing tear requite,
  • Is not without its use.

  Io

  • I will obey,
  • And in plain speech my chanceful story tell;
  • Though much it grieves me to retrace the source,
  • Whence sprung this god-sent pest, and of my shape
  • Disfigurement abhorred. Night after night
  • Strange dreams around my maiden pillow hovering
  • Whispered soft temptings. “O thrice-blessed maid,
  • Why pin’st thou thus in virgin loneliness,
  • When highest wedlock courts thee? Struck by the shaft
  • Of fond desire for thee Jove burns, and pants
  • To twine his loves with thine. Spurn not, O maid,
  • The proffered bed of Jove, but hie thee straight
  • To Lerne’s bosomed mead,42where are the sheep-folds
  • And ox-stalls of thy sire, that so the eye
  • Of Jove, being filled with thee, may cease from craving.”
  • Such nightly dreams my restless couch possessed
  • Till I, all tears, did force me to unfold
  • The portent to my father. He to Pytho*
  • Sent frequent messengers, and to Dodona,
  • Searching the pleasure of the gods, but they
  • With various-woven phrase came back, and answers
  • More doubtful than the quest. At length, a clear
  • And unambiguous voice came to my father,
  • Enjoining, with most strict command, to send me
  • Far from my home, and from my country far,
  • To the extreme bounds of Earth an outcast wanderer,
  • Else that the fire-faced bolt of Jove should smite
  • Our universal race. By such responses,
  • Moved of oracular Loxias, my father
  • Reluctant me reluctant drove from home,
  • And shut the door against me. What he did
  • He did perforce; Jove’s bit was in his mouth.
  • Forthwith my wit was frenzied, and my form
  • Assumed the brute. With maniac bound I rushed,
  • Horned as thou see’st, and with the sharp-mouthed sting
  • Of gad-fly pricked infuriate to the cliff
  • Of Lerne, and Cenchréa’s limpid wave;
  • While Argus, Earth-born cow-herd, hundred-eyed,
  • Followed the winding traces of my path
  • With sharp observance. Him swift-swooping Fate
  • Snatched unexpected from his sleepless guard;
  • But I from land to land still wander on,
  • Scourged by the wrath of Heaven’s relentless Queen.
  • Thou hast my tale; the sequel, if thou know’st it,
  • Is thine to tell; but do not seek, I pray thee,
  • In pity for me, to drop soft lies, for nothing
  • Is worse than the smooth craft of practised phrase.

  Chorus.

  • Enough, enough! Woe’s me that ever
  • Such voices of strange grief should rend my ear!
  • That such a tale of woe,
  • Insults, and wrongs, and horrors, should freeze me through,
  • As with a two-edged sword!
  • O destiny! destiny! woes most hard to see,
  • More hard to bear! Alas! poor maid for thee!

  Prom.

  • Thy wails anticipate her woes; restrain
  • Thy trembling tears till thou hast heard the whole.

  Chorus.

  • Proceed: to know the worst some solace brings
  • To the vexed heart.

  Prom.

  • Your first request I granted,
  • And lightly; from her own mouth, ye have heard
  • The spring of harm, the stream expect from me,
  • How Hera shall draw out her slow revenge.
  • Meanwhile, thou seed of Inachus, lend an ear
  • And learn thy future travel. First to the east43
  • Turn thee, and traverse the unploughed Scythian fields,
  • Whose wandering tribes their wattled homes transport
  • Aloft on well-wheeled wains, themselves well slung
  • With the far-darting bow. These pass, and, holding
  • Thy course by the salt sea’s sounding surge, pass through
  • The land; next, on thy left, thou’lt reach the Chalybs,
  • Workers in iron. These too avoid—for they
  • Are savage, and harsh to strangers. Thence proceeding,
  • Thou to a stream shalt come, not falsely named
  • Hubristes: but the fierce ill-forded wave
  • Pass not till Caucasus, hugest hill, receives thee,
  • There where the flood its gushing strength foams forth
  • Fresh from the rocky brow. Cross then the peaks
  • That neighbour with the stars, and thence direct
  • Southward thy path to where the Amazons
  • Dwell, husband-hated, who shall one day people
  • Thermódon’s bank, and Themiscyre, and where
  • Harsh Salmydessus whets his ravening jaws,
  • The sailor’s foe, stepmother to the ships.
  • These maids shall give thee escort. Next thou’lt reach
  • The narrow Cimmerian isthmus, skirting bleak
  • The waters of Mæotis. Here delay not,
  • But with bold breast cross thou the strait Thy passage
  • Linked with the storied name of Bosphorus
  • Shall live through endless time. Here, leaving Europe,
  • The Asian soil receives thee. Now, answer me,
  • Daughters of Ocean, doth not Jove in all things
  • Prove his despotic will?—In lawless love
  • Longing to mingle with this mortal maid,
  • He heaps her with these woes A bitter suitor,
  • Poor maid, was thine, and I have told thee scarce
  • The prelude of thy griefs

  Io

  Ah! wretched me!

  Prom.

  • Alas, thy cries and groans!—What wilt thou do,
  • When the full measure of thy woes is told thee?

  Chorus.

  What! more? her cup of woes not full?

  Prom

  • ’Twill flow
  • And overflow, a sea of whelming woes.

  Io.

  • Why do I live? Why not embrace the gain
  • That, with one cast, this toppling cliff secures,
  • And dash me headlong on the ground, to end
  • Life and life’s sorrows? Once to die is better
  • Than thus to drag sick life.

  Prom.

  • Thou’rt happy, Io,
  • That death from all thy living wrongs may free thee;
  • But I, whom Fate hath made immortal, see
  • No end to my long-lingering pains appointed,
  • Till Jove from his usurping sway be hurled.

  Io.

  Jove from his tyranny hurled—can such thing be?

  Prom.

  Doubtless ’twould feast thine eyes to see’t?

  Io.

  • Ay, truly,
  • Wronged as I am by him.

  Prom

  • Then, learn from me
  • That ne is doomed to fall.

  Io.

  • What hand shall wrest
  • Jove’s sceptre?

  Prom.

  Jove’s own empty wit.

  Io.

  How so?

  Prom.

  From evil marriage reaping evil fruit.

  Io.

  Marriage! of mortal lineage or divine?

  Prom.

  Ask me no further. This I may not answer.

  Io.

  Shall his spouse thrust him from his ancient throne?

  Prom.

  The son that she brings forth shall wound his father.

  Io.

  And hath he no redemption from this doom?

  Prom.

  None, till he loose me from these hated bonds.

  Io.

  But who, in Jove’s despite, shall loose thee?

  Prom.

  • One
  • From thine own womb descended.

  Io.

  • How? My Son?
  • One born of me shall be thy Saviour!—When?

  Prom.

  When generations ten have passed, the third.44

  Io.

  Thou speak’st ambiguous oracles.

  Prom.

  • I have spoken
  • Enough for thee. Pry not into the Fates.

  Io.

  Wilt thou hold forth a hope to cheat my grasp?

  Prom.

  I give thee choice of two things: choose thou one.

  Io.

  What things? Speak, and I’ll choose

  Prom

  • Thou hast the choice
  • To hear thy toils to the end, or learn his name
  • Who comes to save me.

  Chorus.

  • Nay, divide the choice;
  • One half to her concede, to me the other,
  • Thus doubly gracious: to the maid her toils,
  • To me thy destined Saviour tell.

  Prom

  • So be it!
  • Being thus whetted in desire, I would not
  • Oppose your wills. First Io, what remains
  • Of thy far-sweeping wanderings hear, and grave
  • My words on the sure tablets of thy mind.
  • When thou hast crossed the narrow stream that parts45
  • The continents, to the far flame-faced East
  • Thou shalt proceed, the highway of the Sun;
  • Then cross the sounding Ocean, till thou reach
  • Cisthené and the Gorgon plains, where dwell
  • Phorcys’ three daughters, maids with frosty eld
  • Hoar as the swan, with one eye and one tooth
  • Shared by the three; them Phœbus beamy-bright
  • Beholds not, nor the nightly Moon. Near them
  • Their winged sisters dwell, the Gorgons dire,
  • Man-hating monsters, snaky-locked, whom eye
  • Of mortal ne’er might look upon and live
  • This for thy warning. One more sight remains,
  • That fills the eye with horror: mark me well;
  • The sharp-beaked Griffins, hounds of Jove, avoid.
  • Fell dogs that bark not; and the one-eyed host
  • Of Arimaspian horsemen with swift hoofs
  • Beating the banks of golden-rolling Pluto.
  • A distant land, a swarthy people next
  • Receives thee: near the fountains of the Sun
  • They dwell by Aethiops’ wave. This river trace
  • Until thy weary feet shall reach the pass
  • Whence from the Bybline heights the sacred Nile
  • Pours his salubrious flood46 The winding wave
  • Thence to triangled Egypt guides thee, where
  • A distant home awaits thee, fated mother
  • Of no unstoried race And now, if aught
  • That I have spoken doubtful seem or dark,
  • Repeat the question, and in plainer speech
  • Expect reply. I feel no lack of leisure.

  Chorus.

  • If thou hast more to speak to her, speak on;
  • Or aught omitted to supply, supply it;
  • But if her tale is finished, as thou say’st,
  • Remember our request

  Prom.

  • Her tale is told,
  • But for the more assurance of my words
  • The path of toils through which her feet had struggled
  • Before she reached this coast I will declare,
  • Lightly, and with no cumbrous comment, touching
  • Thy latest travel only, wandering Io.
  • When thou hadst trod the Molossian plains, and reached
  • Steep-ridged Dodona, where Thesprotian Jove
  • In council sits, and from the articulate oaks
  • (Strange wonder!) speaks prophetic, there thine ears
  • This salutation with no doubtful phrase
  • Received: “All hail, great spouse of mighty Jove
  • That shall be!”—say, was it a pleasing sound?
  • Thence by the sting of jealous Hera goaded,
  • Along the coast of Rhea’s bosomed sea*
  • Thy steps were driven thence with mazy course
  • Tossed hither;47 gaining, if a gain, this solace,
  • That future times, by famous Io’s name,
  • Shall know that sea† These things may be a sign
  • That I, beyond the outward show, can pierce
  • To the heart of truth What yet remains, I tell
  • To thee and them in common, tracing back
  • My speech to whence it came There is a city
  • In extreme Egypt, where with outspread loam
  • Nile breasts the sea, its name Canopus. There
  • Jove to thy sober sense shall bring thee back,
  • Soft with no fearful touch, and thou shalt bear
  • A son, dark Epaphus, whose name shall tell
  • The wonder of his birth,48 he shall possess
  • What fruitful fields fat Nile broad-streaming laves.
  • Four generations then shall pass; the fifth
  • In fifty daughters* glorying shall return
  • To ancient Argos, fatal wedlock shunning
  • With fathers’ brothers’ sons; these, their wild hearts
  • Fooled with blind lust, as hawks the gentle doves,
  • Shall track the fugitive virgins; but a god
  • Shall disappoint their chase, and the fair prey
  • Save from their lawless touch, the Apian soil
  • Shall welcome them to death, and woman’s hands
  • Shall dare the deed amid the nuptial watches.
  • Each bride shall rob her lord of life, and dip
  • The sharp steel in his throat. Such nuptial bliss
  • May all my enemies know! Only one maid
  • Of all the fifty, with a blunted will,
  • Shall own the charm of love, and spare her mate,
  • And of two adverse reputations choose
  • The coward, not the murderess. She shall be
  • The mother of a royal race in Argos.
  • To tell what follows, with minute remark,
  • Were irksome; but from this same root shall spring
  • A hero, strong in the archer’s craft, whose hand
  • Shall free me from these bonds. Such oracle spake
  • Titanian Themis, my time-honoured mother,
  • But how and why were a long tale to tell,
  • Nor being told would boot thine ear to hear it.

  Io.

  • Ah me! pain! pain! ah me!
  • Again the fevered spasm hath seized me,
  • And the stroke of madness smites!
  • Again that fiery sting torments me,
  • And my heart doth knock my ribs!
  • My aching eyes in dizziness roll,
  • And my helmless feet are driven
  • Whither gusty frenzy blows!
  • And my tongue with thick words struggling
  • Like a sinking swimmer plashes
  • ’Gainst the whelming waves of woe!

  [Exit.

  • CHORAL HYMN.
    STROPHE.
  • Wise was the man, most wise,
  • Who in deep-thoughted mood conceived, and first
  • In pictured speech and pregnant phrase declared
  • That marriage, if the Fates shall bless the bond,
  • Must be of like with like;
  • And that the daughters of an humble house
  • Shun tempting union with the pomp of wealth
  • And with the pride of birth.
  • ANTISTROPHE.
  • Never, O! never may Fate,
  • All-powerful Fate which rules both gods and men,
  • See me approaching the dread Thunderer’s bed,
  • And sharing marriage with the Olympian king,
  • An humble Ocean-maid!
  • May wretched Io, chased by Hera’s wrath,
  • Unhusbanded, unfriended, fill my sense
  • With profitable fear.
  • EPODE.
  • Me may an equal bond
  • Bind with my equal: never may the eye
  • Of a celestial suitor fix the gaze
  • Of forceful love on me.
  • This were against all odds of war to war,
  • And in such strife entangled I were lost;
  • For how should humble maid resist the embrace,
  • Against great Jove’s decree?

  Prom

  • Nay, but this Jove, though insolent now, shall soon
  • Be humbled low. Such wedlock even now
  • He blindly broods, as shall uptear his kingdom,
  • And leave no trace behind; then shall the curse,
  • Which Kronos heaped upon his ingrate son,
  • When hurled unjustly from his hoary throne,
  • Be all fulfilled. What remedy remains
  • For that dread ruin I alone can tell;
  • I only know. Then let him sit aloft,
  • Rolling his thunder, his fire-breathing bolt
  • Far-brandishing; his arts are vain; his fall,
  • Unless my aid prevent, his shameful fall,
  • Is doomed. Against himself to life he brings
  • A champion fierce, a portent of grim war,
  • Who shall invent a fiercer flame than lightning,
  • And peals to outpeal the thunder, who shall shiver
  • The trident mace that stirs the sea, and shakes
  • The solid Earth, the spear of strong Poseidon.
  • Thus shall the tyrant learn how much to serve
  • Is different from to sway.

  Chorus.

  • Thou dost but make
  • Thy wishes father to thy slanderous phrase.

  Prom.

  I both speak truth and wish the truth to be.

  Chorus.

  But who can think that Jove shall find a master?

  Prom.

  He shall be mastered! Ay, and worse endure.

  Chorus.

  Dost thou not blench to cast such words about thee?

  Prom.

  How should I fear, being a god and deathless?

  Chorus.

  But he can scourge with something worse than death.

  Prom.

  Even let him scourge! I’m armed for all conclusions.

  Chorus.

  Yet they are wise who worship Adrastéa49

  Prom.

  • Worship, and pray, fawn on the powers that be;
  • But Jove to me is less than very nothing.
  • Let him command, and rule his little hour
  • To please himself; long time he cannot sway.
  • But lo! where comes the courier of this Jove,
  • The obsequious minion of this upstart King,
  • Doubtless the bearer of some weighty news.

  EnterHermes.

  Hermes

  • Thee, cunning sophist, dealing bitter words
  • Most bitterly against the gods, the friend
  • Of ephemeral man, the thief of sacred fire,
  • Thee, Father Jove commands to curb thy boasts,
  • And say what marriage threats his stable throne.
  • Answer this question in plain phrase, no dark
  • Tangled enigmas; do not add, Prometheus,
  • A second journey to my first: and, mark me!
  • Thy obduracy cannot soften Jove

  Prom.

  • This solemn mouthing, this proud pomp of phrase
  • Beseems the lackey of the gods. New gods
  • Ye are, and, being new, ye ween to hold
  • Unshaken citadels. Have I not seen
  • Two Monarchs ousted from that throne? the third
  • I yet shall see precipitate hurled from Heaven
  • With baser, speedier, ruin. Do I seem
  • To quail before this new-forged dynasty?
  • Fear is my farthest thought. I pray thee go
  • Turn up the dust again upon the road
  • Thou cam’st. Reply from me thou shalt have none.

  Hermes.

  • This haughty tone hath been thy sin before:
  • Thy pride will strand thee on a worser woe.

  Prom.

  • And were my woe tenfold what now it is,
  • I would not barter it for thy sweet chains;
  • For liefer would I lackey this bare rock
  • Than trip the messages of Father Jove.
  • The insolent thus with insolence I repay.

  Hermes.

  Thou dost delight in miseries; thou art wanton.

  Prom.

  • Wanton! delighted! would my worst enemies
  • Might wanton in these bonds, thyself the first!

  Hermes.

  Must I, too, share the blame of thy distress?

  Prom.

  • In one round sentence, every god I hate
  • That injures me who never injured him.

  Hermes.

  Thou’rt mad, clean mad, thy wit’s diseased, Prometheus.

  Prom.

  Most mad! if madness ’tis to hate our foes.

  Hermes.

  • Prosperity’s too good for thee: thy temper
  • Could not endure’t.

  Prom.

  Alas! this piercing pang!

  Hermes.

  “Alas!”—this word Jove does not understand.

  Prom,

  As Time grows old he teaches many things.

  Hermes.

  Yet Time that teaches all leaves thee untaught.

  Prom.

  Untaught in sooth, thus parleying with a slave!

  Hermes.

  It seems thou wilt not grant great Jove’s demand.

  Prom.

  • Such love as his to me should be repaid
  • With like!

  Hermes.

  Dost beard me like a boy? Beware.

  Prom.

  • Art not a boy, and something yet more witless,
  • If thou expectest answer from my mouth?
  • Nor insult harsh, nor cunning craft of Jove
  • Shall force this tale from me, till he unloose
  • These bonds. Yea! let him dart his levin bolts,
  • With white-winged snows and subterranean thunders
  • Mix and confound the elements of things!
  • No threat, no fear, shall move me to reveal
  • The hand that hurls him from his tyrant’s throne.

  Hermes.

  Bethink thee well: thy vaunts can help thee nothing.

  Prom.

  I speak not rashly: what I said I said.

  Hermes.

  • If thou art not the bought and sold of folly,
  • Dare to learn wisdom from thy present ills.

  Prom.

  • Speak to the waves: thou speak’st to me as vainly!
  • Deem not that I, to win a smile from Jove,
  • Will spread a maiden smoothness o’er my soul,
  • And importune the foe whom most I hate
  • With womanish upliftings of the hands.
  • Thou’lt see the deathless die first!

  Hermes.

  • I have said
  • Much, but that much is vain: thy rigid nature
  • To thaw with prayer is hopeless. A young colt
  • That frets the bit, and fights against the reins,
  • Art thou, fierce-champing with most impotent rage;
  • For wilful strength that hath no wisdom in it
  • Is less than nothing.50 But bethink thee well;
  • If thou despise my words of timely warning,
  • What wintry storm, what threefold surge of woes
  • Whelms thee inevitable. Jove shall split
  • These craggy cliffs with his cloud-bosomed bolt,
  • And sink thee deep: the cold rock shall embrace thee;
  • There thou shalt lie, till he shall please to bring thee
  • Back to the day, to find new pains prepared:
  • For he will send his Eagle-messenger,
  • His winged hound,* in crimson food delighting,
  • To tear thy rags of flesh with bloody beak,
  • And daily come an uninvited guest
  • To banquet on thy gory liver. This,
  • And worse expect, unless some god endure
  • Vicarious thy tortures,51 and exchange
  • His sunny ether for the rayless homes
  • Of gloomy Hades, and deep Tartarus.
  • Consider well. No empty boast I speak,
  • But weighty words well weighed: the mouth of Jove
  • Hath never known a lie, and speech with him
  • Is prophet of its deed. Ponder and weigh,
  • Close not thy stubborn ears to good advice.

  Chorus.

  • If we may speak, what Hermes says is wise,
  • And fitting the occasion. He advises
  • That stubborn will should yield to prudent counsel.
  • Obey: thy wisdom should not league with folly.

  Prom.

  • Nothing new this preacher preaches:
  • Seems it strange that foe should suffer
  • From the vengeance of his foe?
  • I am ready. Let him wreathe
  • Curls of scorching flame around me;
  • Let him fret the air with thunder,
  • And the savage-blustering winds!
  • Let the deep abysmal tempest
  • Wrench the firm roots of the Earth!
  • Let the sea upheave her billows,
  • Mingling the fierce rush of waters
  • With the pathway of the stars!
  • Let the harsh-winged hurricane sweep me
  • In its whirls, and fling me down
  • To black Tartarus: there to lie
  • Bound in the iron folds of Fate.
  • I will bear . but cannot die.

  Hermes.

  • Whom the nymphs have struck with madness
  • Raves as this loud blusterer raves;
  • Seems he not a willing madman,
  • Let him reap the fruits he sowed!52
  • But ye maids, who share his sorrows,
  • Not his crimes, with quick removal
  • Hie from this devoted spot,
  • Lest with idiocy the thunder
  • Harshly blast your maundering wits.

  Chorus.

  • Wouldst thou with thy words persuade us,
  • Use a more persuasive speech;
  • Urge no reasons to convince me
  • That an honest heart must hate.
  • With his sorrows I will sorrow:
  • I will hate a traitor’s name,
  • Earth has plagues, but none more noisome
  • Than a faithless friend in need.

  Hermes.

  • Ponder well my prudent counsel,
  • Nor, when evil hunts thee out,
  • Blame great Jove that he doth smite thee
  • With an unexpected stroke.
  • Not the gods; thy proper folly
  • Is the parent of thy woes.*
  • Jove hath laid no trap to snare thee,
  • But the scapeless net of ruin
  • Thou hast woven for thyself.

  Prom.

  • Now his threats walk forth in action,
  • And the firm Earth quakes indeed.
  • Deep and loud the ambient Thunder
  • Bellows, and the flaring Lightning
  • Wreathes his fiery curls around me,
  • And the Whirlwind rolls his dust;
  • And the Winds from rival regions
  • Rush in elemental strife,
  • And the Ocean’s storm-vexed billows
  • Mingle with the startled stars!
  • Doubtless now the tyrant gathers
  • All his hoarded wrath to whelm me.
  • Mighty Mother, worshipped Themis,
  • Circling Ether that diffusest
  • Light, a common joy to all,
  • Thou beholdest these my wrongs!

  NOTES TO PROMETHEUS BOUND

  THE SUPPLIANTS
  
  A LYRICO-DRAMATIC SPECTACLE

  • Be not forgetful to entertain strangers; for thereby
  • Some have entertained angels unawares.

  • St. Paul.

  • πρὸς γὰρ Διός ἐισιν ἅπαντες
  • Ξεɩ̂νοί τε πτωχόι τε.

  • Homer.

  PERSONS

  Chorus of Danaides.

  Danaus.

  Pelasgus, King of Argos, and Attendants.

  Herald.

  INTRODUCTORY REMARKS

  Considered by itself, the action of this piece is the most meagre that can be conceived, and, as the poet has handled it, contains little that can stir the deeper feelings of the heart, or strike the imagination strongly That the king of the Argives should feel serious doubts as to the propriety of receiving such a band of foreigners into his kingdom, formidable not in their own strength, indeed, but in respect of the pursuing party, by whom they were claimed, was most natural; equally natural, however, and, in a poetic point of view, necessary, that his political fears should finally be outweighed by his benevolent regard for the rights of unprotected virgins, and his pious fear of the wrath of Jove, the protector of suppliants The alternation of mind between these contending feelings, till a final resolve is taken on the side of the right, affords no field for the higher faculty of the dramatist to display itself As we have it, accordingly, the Suppliants is, perhaps, the weakest performance of Æschylus. But the fact is, there is the best reason to believe that the great father of tragedy never meant this piece to stand alone, but wrote it merely to usher in the main action, which followed in the other pieces of a trilogy; the names of which pieces—Ἀιγύπτιοι, and Δαναίδες—are preserved in the list of the author’s pieces still extant. Of this, the whole conclusion of the present piece, and especially the latter half of the last choral chaunt, furnishes the most conclusive evidence.

  The remainder of the story, which formed the main action of the trilogy, is well known. Immediately after the reception of the fugitives, by the Argives, their pursuers arrive, and land on the coast This arrival is announced in the last scene of the present piece. On this, Danaus, unwilling to lead his kind host into a war, pretends to yield to the suit still as eagerly pressed, and the marriage is agreed on. But a terrible revenge had been devised. At the very moment that he hands over his unwilling but obedient daughters to the subjection of their hated cousins, he gives them secret instructions to furnish themselves each with a dagger, and, during the watches of the nuptial night, to dip the steel in the throats of their unsuspecting lords. The bloody deed was completed. Only one of all the fifty daughters, preferring the fame of true womanhood to the claims of filial homage, spared her mate Hypermnestra saved her husband Lynceus. This conduct, of course, brought the daughter into collision with her father and her father’s family; and one of those strifes of our mysterious moral nature was educed, which, as we have seen in the trilogy of the Orestiad, it was one great purpose of the Æschylean drama to reconcile. If the murder occupied the second piece, as the progress of the story naturally brings with it, a third piece, according to the analogy of the Eumenides, would be necessary to bring about the reconciliation, and effect that purifying of the passions which Aristotle points out as the great moral result of tragic composition That Aphrodite was the great celestial agent employed in the finale of the Suppliants, as Pallas Athena is in the Furies, has been well divined; a beautiful fragment in celebration of love, and in favour of Hypermnestra remains; but to attempt a reconstruction of these lost pieces at the present day, though an amusement of which the learned Germans are fond, is foreign to the habits of the British mind. Those who feel inclined to see what ingenuity may achieve in this region, are referred to Welcker’s Trilogie, and Gruppe’s Ariadne.

  The moral tone and character of this piece is in the highest degree pleasing and satisfactory. The Supreme Jove, whose prominent attribute is power, here receives a glorification as the protector of the persecuted, and the refuge of the distressed On the duty of hospitality, under the sanction of Ζεύς ξἑνιος and ἱκεσιος, as practised among the ancient Greeks, I refer the reader with pleasure to Grote’s History of Greece, Vol. II., p. 114

  “The scene,” says Potter, “is near the shore, in an open grove, close to the altar and images of the gods presiding over the sacred games, with a view of the sea and ships of Egyptus on one side, and of the town of Argos on the other, with hills, and woods, and vales, a river flowing between them: all, together with the persons of the drama, forming a picture that would have well employed the united pencils of Poussin and Claude.”

  Chorus,entering the stage in procession. March time.

  Chorus

  • Jove, the suppliant’s high protector,1
  • Look from Heaven, benignly favouring
  • Us the suppliant band, swift-oared
  • Hither sailing, from the seven mouths
  • Of the fat fine-sanded Nile!2
  • From the land that fringes Syria,
  • Land divine, in flight we came,
  • Not by public vote forth-driven,
  • Not by taint of blood divorced
  • From our native state,* but chastely
  • Our abhorrent foot withdrawing
  • From impure ungodly wedlock
  • With Ægyptus’ sons, too nearly
  • Cousined with ourselves. For wisely,
  • This our threatened harm well-weighing,
  • Danaus, our sire, prime counsellor,
  • And leader of our sistered band,
  • Timely chose this least of sorrows
  • O’er the salt-sea wave to flee;
  • And here on Argive soil to plant us,
  • Whence our race its vaunted spring
  • Drew divinely, when great Jove
  • Gently thrilled the brize-stung heifer3
  • With his procreant touch, and breathed
  • Godlike virtue on her womb.
  • Where on Earth should we hope refuge
  • On more friendly ground than this,
  • In our hands these green boughs bearing
  • Wreathed with precatory wool?†
  • Ye blissful gods supremely swaying4
  • Land and city, and lucid streams;
  • And ye in sepulchres dark, severely
  • Worshipped ’neath the sunless ground;
  • And thou, the third, great Jove the Saviour,
  • Guardian of all holy homes,
  • With your spirit gracious-wafted,
  • Breathe fair welcome on this band
  • Of suppliant maids But in the depth
  • Of whirling waves engulph the swarm
  • Of insolent youths, Ægyptus’ sons,
  • Them, and their sea-cars swiftly oared,
  • Ere this slimy shore receive
  • Their hated footprint. Let them labour,
  • With wrath-spitting seas confronted.
  • By the wild storm wintry-beating,
  • Thunder-crashing, lightning flashing,
  • By the tyrannous blast shower-laden
  • Let them perish, ere they mount
  • Marriage beds which right refuses,5
  • Us, their father’s brother’s daughters
  • To their lawless yoke enthralling!

  TheChorusassemble in a band round the centre of the Orchestra, and sing the Choral Hymn.

  • STROPHE I.
  • Give ear to our prayer, we implore thee,
  • Thou son, and the mother that bore thee—
  • The calf and the heifer divine!*
  • From afar be thine offspring’s avenger,
  • Even thou, once a beautiful ranger
  • O’er these meads with the grass-cropping kine!
  • And thou, whom she bore to her honor,
  • When the breath of the Highest was on her,
  • And the touch of the finger divine;
  • Thine ear, mighty god, we implore thee
  • To the prayer of thine offspring incline!
  • ANTISTROPHE I.
  • O Thou who with blessing anointed,
  • Wert born when by Fate ’twas appointed,
  • With thy name to all ages a sign!†
  • In this land of the mother that bore thee,
  • Her toils we remember before thee,
  • Where she cropped the green mead with the kine.
  • O strange were her fortunes, and stranger
  • The fate that hath chased me from danger
  • To the home of the heifer divine.
  • O son, with the mother that bore thee,
  • Stamp my tale with thy truth for a sign!
  • STROPHE AND ANTISTROPHE II.
  • While we cry, should there haply be near us
  • An Argive, an augur,* to hear us,
  • When our shrill-piercing wail
  • His ear shall assail,
  • ’Tis the cry he will deem, and none other,
  • Of Procne, the woe-wedded mother,
  • The hawk-hunted nightingale;†
  • Sad bird, when its known streams it leaveth,
  • And with fresh-bleeding grief lonely grieveth,
  • And telleth the tale,
  • With a shrill-voiced wail,
  • How the son that she loved, and none other,
  • Was slain by his fell-purposed mother,
  • The woe-wedded nightingale!
  • STROPHE III.
  • Even so from the Nile summer-tinted,
  • With Ionian wailings unstinted,6
  • My cheek with the keen nail I tear;
  • And I pluck, where it bloweth,
  • Grief’s blossom that groweth
  • In this heart first acquainted with care;
  • And I fear the fierce band,
  • From the far misty land,7
  • Whom the swift ships to Argos may bear.
  • ANTISTROPHE III.
  • Ye gods of my race, seeing clearly
  • The right which ye cherish so dearly,
  • To the haughty your hatred declare!
  • ’Gainst the right ye will never
  • Chaste virgins deliver,
  • The bed of the lawless to share;
  • From the god-fenced altar
  • Each awe-struck assaulter
  • Back shrinks. Our sure bulwark is there.
  • STROPHE IV.
  • O would that Jove might show to men
  • His counsel as he planned it,
  • But ah! he darky weaves the scheme,
  • No mortal eye hath scanned it.
  • It burns through darkness brightly clear
  • To whom the god shall show it;
  • But mortal man, through cloudy fear,
  • Shall search in vain to know it.
  • ANTISTROPHE IV.
  • Firm to the goal his purpose treads,
  • His will knows no frustration;
  • When with his brow the mighty god
  • Hath nodded consummation
  • But strangely, strangely weave their maze
  • His counsels, dusky wending,
  • Concealed in densely-tangled ways
  • From human comprehending.
  • STROPHE V.
  • From their high-towering hopes the proud
  • In wretched rout he casteth.
  • No force he wields; his simple will,
  • His quiet sentence blasteth.
  • All godlike power is calm;8 and high
  • On thrones of glory seated,
  • Jove looks from Heaven with tranquil eye,
  • And sees his will completed.
  • ANTISTROPHE V.
  • Look down, O mighty god, and see
  • How this harsh wedlock planning,
  • That dry old tree in saplings green,
  • The insolent lust is fanning!
  • Madly he hugs the frenzied plan
  • With perverse heart unbending,
  • Hot-spurred, till Ruin seize the man,
  • Too late to think of mending.
  • STROPHE VI.
  • Ah! well-a-day! ah! well-a-day!9
  • Thus sadly I hymn the sorrowful lay,
  • With a shrill-voiced cry,
  • With a sorrow-streaming eye,
  • Well-a-day, woe’s me!
  • Thus I grace my own tomb with the wail pouring free,
  • Thus I sing my own dirge, ah me!*
  • Ye Apian hills, be kind to me,
  • And throw not back the stranger’s note,
  • But know the Libyan wail.
  • Behold how, rent to sorrow’s note,
  • My linen robes all loosely float,
  • And my Sidonian veil.
  • ANTISTROPHE VI.
  • Ah! well-a-day! ah! well-a-day!
  • My plighted vows I’ll duly pay,
  • Ye gods, if ye will save
  • From the foe, and from the grave
  • My trembling life set free!
  • Surges high, surges high, sorrow’s many-billowed sea,
  • And woe towers on woe. Ah me!
  • Ye Apian hills,10 be kind to me,
  • And throw not back the stranger’s note
  • But know the Libyan wail!
  • Behold how, rent to sorrow’s note,
  • My linen robes all loosely float,
  • And my Sidonian veil!
  • STROPHE VII.
  • And yet, in that slight timbered house, well-armed
  • With frequent-plashing oar,
  • Stiff sail and cordage straining, all unharmed
  • By winter’s stormy roar,
  • We reached this Argive shore.
  • Safely so far. May Jove, the all-seeing, send
  • As the beginning, so the prosperous end.
  • And may he grant, indeed,
  • That we, a gracious mother’s gracious seed,
  • By no harsh kindred wooed,
  • May live on Apian ground unyoked and unsubdued!
  • ANTISTROPHE VII.
  • May she, the virgin daughter of high Jove,*
  • Our virgin litany hear,
  • Our loving homage answering with more love!
  • She that, with face severe,
  • Repelled, in awful fear,
  • Each rude aggressor, in firm virtue cased,
  • Nor knew the lustful touch divinely chaste.
  • And may she grant, indeed,
  • That we, a gracious mother’s gracious seed,
  • By no harsh kindred wooed,
  • May live on Apian ground unyoked and unsubdued.
  • STROPHE VIII.
  • But if no aid to us may be,
  • Libya’s swart sun-beaten daughters,
  • The rope shall end our toils; and we,
  • Beneath the ground, shall fare to thee,
  • Thou many-guested Jove,†
  • To thee our suppliant boughs we’ll spread,
  • Thou Saviour of the weary Dead,
  • Far from the shining thrones of blissful gods above.
  • Ah, Jove too well we know
  • What wrath divine scourged ancient Io, wailing
  • Beneath thy consort’s anger heaven-scaling;
  • And even so,
  • On Io’s seed may blow
  • A buffeting blast from her of black despairful woe.
  • ANTISTROPHE VIII.
  • O Jove, how then wilt thou be free
  • From just reproach of Libya’s daughters,
  • If thou in us dishonoured see
  • Him whom the heifer bore to thee
  • Whom thou didst chiefly love.
  • If thou from us shalt turn thy face,
  • What suppliant then shall seek thy grace?
  • O hear my prayer enthroned in loftiest state above!
  • For well, too well, we know
  • What wrath divine scourged ancient Io, wailing
  • Beneath thy consort’s anger heaven-scaling;
  • And even so,
  • On Io’s seed may blow
  • A buffeting blast from her of black despairful woe

  EnterDanaus.

  Danaus.

  • Be wise, my daughters. In no rash flight with me,
  • A hoary father, and a faithful pilot,
  • Ye crossed the seas; nor less is wisdom needful
  • Ashore; be wise, and on your heart’s true tablet
  • Engrave my words. For lo! where mounts the dust,
  • A voiceless herald of their coming; hear
  • Their distant-rumbling wheels! A host I see
  • Of bright shield-bearing and spear-shaking men,
  • Swift steeds, and rounded cars.11 Of our here landing,
  • Timely apprised, the chiefs that rule this country
  • Come with their eyes to read us. But be their coming
  • Harmless, or harsh with fell displeasure, here
  • On this high-seat of the Agonian gods12
  • Is safety for my daughters; for an altar
  • Is a sure tower of strength, a shield that bears
  • The rattling terror dintless. Go ye, therefore,
  • Embrace these altars, in your sistered hands13
  • These white-wreathed precatory boughs presenting,
  • Which awful Jove reveres; and with choice phrase
  • Wisely your pity-moving tale-commend
  • When they shall ask you; as becomes the stranger,
  • The bloodless motive of your flight declaring
  • With clear recital The bold tongue eschewing,
  • With sober-fronted face and quiet eye
  • Your tale unfold. The garrulous prate, the length
  • Of slow-drawn speech beware. Such fault offends
  • This people sorely. Chiefly know to yield:
  • Thou art the weaker—a poor helpless stranger—
  • The bold-mouthed phrase suits ill with thy condition.

  Chorus.

  • Father, thou speakest wisely: nor unwisely
  • Thy words would we receive, in memory’s ward
  • Storing thy hests; ancestral Jove be witness!

  Danaus.

  Even so; and with benignant eye look down!14

  Chorus.

  * * * *

  Danaus.

  Delay not. In performance show thy strength.

  Chorus.

  Even there where thou dost sit, I’d sit beside thee!

  Danaus

  O Jove show pity ere pity come too late!

  Chorus.

  Jove willing, all is well.

  Danaus.

  • Him, therefore, pray,
  • There where his bird the altar decorates:15 pray
  • Apollo, too, the pure, the exiled once16
  • From bright Olympus.

  Chorus.

  • The sun’s restoring rays
  • We pray: the god what fate he knew will pity.

  Danaus.

  May he with pity and with aid be near!

  Chorus.

  Whom next shall I invoke?

  Danaus.

  • Thou see’st this trident
  • And know’st of whom the symbol?

  Chorus.

  • May the same
  • That sent us hither kindly now receive us!

  Danaus.

  Here’s Hermes likewise, as Greece knows the god.17

  Chorus.

  Be he my herald, heralding the free!

  Danaus.

  • This common altar of these mighty gods
  • Adore: within these holy precincts lodged,
  • Pure doves from hawks of kindred plumage fleeing,
  • Foes of your blood, polluters of your race.
  • Can bird eat bird and be an holy thing?18
  • Can man be pure, from an unwilling father
  • Robbing unwilling brides? Who does these deeds
  • Will find no refuge from lewd guilt in Hades;
  • For there, as we have heard, another Jove
  • Holds final judgment on the guilty shades.
  • But now be ready. Here await their coming;
  • May the gods grant a victory to our prayers!

  EnterKing.

  King.

  • Whom speak we here? Whence come? Certes no Greeks.
  • Your tire rich-flaunting with barbaric pride
  • Bespeaks you strangers. Argos knows you not,
  • Nor any part of Greece. Strange surely ’tis
  • That all unheralded, unattended all,
  • And of no host the acknowledged guest, unfearing
  • Ye tread this land.19 If these boughs, woolly-wreathed,
  • That grace the altars of the Agonian gods
  • Speak what to Greeks they should speak, ye are suppliants.
  • Thus much I see: what more remains to guess
  • I spare; yourselves have tongues to speak the truth.

  Chorus.

  • That we are strangers is most true; but whom
  • See we in thee? a citizen? a priest?
  • A temple warder with his sacred wand?
  • The ruler of the state?

  King.

  • Speak with a fearless tongue, and plainly. I
  • Of old earth-born Palæcthon am the son,20
  • My name Pelasgus, ruler of this land;
  • And fathered with my name the men who reap
  • Earth’s fruits beneath my sway are called Pelasgi;
  • And all the land where Algos flows, and Strymon,21
  • Toward the westering sun my sceptre holds.
  • My kingdom the Perrhæbians bound, and those
  • Beyond high Pindus, by Pæonia, and
  • The Dodonéan heights; the briny wave
  • Completes the circling line; within these bounds
  • I rule; but here, where now thy foot is planted,
  • The land is Apia, from a wise physician
  • Of hoary date so called. He, from Naupactus,
  • Apollo’s son, by double right, physician
  • And prophet both,22 crossed to this coast, and freed it
  • By holy purifyings, from the plague
  • Of man-destroying monsters, which the ground
  • With ancient taint of blood polluted bore.
  • This plague his virtue medicinal healed,
  • That we no more unfriendly fellowship
  • Hold with the dragon-brood. Such worthy service
  • With thankful heart the Argive land received,
  • And Apis lives remembered in her prayers.
  • Of this from me assured, now let me hear
  • Your whence, and what your purpose. Briefly speak;
  • This people hates much phrase.

  Chorus.

  • Our tale is short.
  • We by descent are Argives, from the seed
  • Of the heifer sprung, whose womb was blest in bearing;
  • And this in every word we can confirm
  • By manifest proofs.

  King.

  • That ye are Argives, this
  • My ear receives not; an unlikely tale!
  • Like Libyan women rather; not a line
  • I trace in you that marks our native race.
  • Nile might produce such daughters; ye do bear
  • A Cyprian character in your female features,
  • The impressed likeness of some plastic male.*
  • Of wandering Indians I have heard, that harness
  • Camels for mules, huge-striding, dwelling near
  • The swarthy Æthiop land; ye may be such;
  • Or, had ye war’s accoutrement, the bow,
  • Ye might be Amazons, stern, husband-hating,
  • Flesh-eating maids. But speak, that I may know
  • The truth. How vouch ye your descent from Argos?

  Chorus.

  • They say that Io, on this Argive ground,
  • Erst bore the keys to Hera,23 then ’tis said,
  • So runs the general rumour—24

  King.

  • I have heard.
  • Was it not so, Jove with the mortal maid
  • Mingled in love?

  Chorus.

  • Even so; in love they mingled,
  • Deceiving Hera’s bed.

  King.

  • And how then ended
  • The Olympian strife?

  Chorus.

  • Enraged, the Argive goddess
  • To a heifer changed the maid.

  King.

  • And the god came
  • To the fair horned heifer?

  Chorus.

  • Like a leaping bull,
  • Transformed he came,25 so the hoar legend tells.

  King.

  And what did then the potent spouse of Jove?

  Chorus.

  She sent a watchman ringed with eyes to watch.

  King.

  This all-beholding herdsman, who was he?

  Chorus.

  Argus the son of Earth, by Hermes slain.

  King.

  How further fared the ill-fated heifer, say?

  Chorus.

  A persecuting brize was sent to sting her.

  King.

  And o’er the wide earth goaded her the brize?

  Chorus.

  Just so, thy tale with mine accordant chimes.

  King.

  Then to Canopus, and to Memphis came she?

  Chorus.

  There, touched by Jove’s boon hand, she bore a son.

  King.

  The heifer’s boasted offspring, who was he?

  Chorus.

  • Epaphus, who plainly with his name declares
  • His mother’s safety wrought by touch of Jove.

  King.

  * * * *26

  Chorus.

  Libya, dowered with a fair land’s goodly name.

  King.

  And from this root divine what other shoots?

  Chorus.

  Belus, my father’s father, and my uncle’s.

  King.

  Who is thy honoured father?

  Chorus.

  • Danaus;
  • And fifty sons his brother hath, my uncle.

  King.

  This brother who? Spare not to tell the whole.

  Chorus.

  • Ægyptus. Now, O king, our ancient race
  • Thou knowest. Us from our prostration raising,
  • Thou raisest Argos

  King.

  • Argives in sooth ye seem,
  • By old descent participant of the soil;
  • But by what stroke of sore mischance harsh-smitten,
  • Dared ye to wander from your native seats?

  Chorus.

  • Pelasgian prince, a motley-threaded web
  • Is human woe; a wing of dappled plumes.
  • Past hope and faith it was that we, whose blood
  • From Argive Io flows, to Io’s city,
  • In startled flight, should measure back our way,
  • To escape from hated marriage.

  King.

  • How say’st thou?
  • To escape from marriage thou art here, displaying
  • These fresh-cropt branches, snowy-wreathed, before
  • The Agonian gods?

  Chorus

  • Ay! Never, never may we
  • Be thralled to Ægyptus’ sons!

  King.

  • Speak’st thou of hate
  • To them, or of a bond your laws forbid?

  Chorus.

  • Both this and that.27 Who should be friends were foes,
  • And blood with blood near-mingled basely flows

  King.

  But branch on branch well grafted goodlier grows

  Chorus.

  • Urge not this point; but rather think one word
  • From thee the wretched rescues.

  King.

  • How then shall I
  • My friendly disposition show?

  Chorus.

  • We ask
  • But this—from our pursuers save us.

  King.

  • What!
  • Shall I for unknown exiles breed a war?

  Chorus.

  Justice will fight for him who fights for us.

  King.

  • Doubtless; if Justice from the first hath stamped
  • Your cause for hers.

  Chorus[pointing to the altar].

  The state’s high poop here crowned Revere.

  King.

  • This green environment of shade,
  • Mantling the seats of the gods I see, and shudder.

  Chorus.

  The wrath of suppliant Jove28 is hard to bear.

  • STROPHE I.
  • O hear my cry, benignly hear!
  • Thou son of Palæcthon, hear me!
  • The fugitive wandering suppliant hear!
  • Thou king of Pelasgians, hear me!
  • Like a heifer young by the wolf pursued29
  • O’er the rocks so cliffy and lonely,
  • And loudly it lows to the herdsman good,
  • Whose strength can save it only.

  King

  • My eyes are tasked; there, ’neath the shielding shade
  • Of fresh-lopt branches I behold you clinging
  • To these Agonian gods; but what I do
  • Must spare the state from harm. I must provide
  • That no unlooked-for unprepared event
  • Beget new strife; of this we have enough.

  ANTISTROPHE I.

  Chorus.

  • Great Jove that allotteth their lot to all,
  • By his sentence of right shall clear thee,
  • Dread Themis that heareth the suppliants’ call,
  • No harm shall allow to come near thee.
  • Though I speak to the old with the voice of the young,
  • Do the will of the gods, and surely
  • Their favour to thee justly weighed shall belong,
  • When thy gifts thou offerest purely.

  King.

  • Not at my hearth with precatory boughs
  • Ye lie. The state, if guilty taint from you
  • Affect the general weal, will for the state
  • Take counsel. I nor pledge nor promise give,
  • Till all the citizens hear what thou shalt say.

  STROPHE II.

  Chorus.

  • Thou art the state, and the people art thou,30
  • The deed that thou doest who judges?
  • The hearth and the altar before thee bow,
  • The grace that thou grantest who grudges?
  • Thou noddest, the will that thou willest is thine,
  • Thy vote with no voter thou sharest;
  • The throne is all thine, and the sceptre divine,
  • And thy guilt, when thou sinnest, thou bearest.

  King

  • Guilt lie on those that hate me! but your prayers
  • Harmless I may not hear; and to reject them
  • Were harsh. To do, and not to do alike
  • Perplex me; on the edge of choice I tremble.

  ANTISTROPHE II.

  Chorus.

  • Him worship who sitteth a watchman in Heaven,
  • And looks on this life of our labour;
  • Nor looketh in vain, when the wretched is driven
  • From the gate of his pitiless neighbour.
  • On our knees when we fall, and for mercy we call,
  • If his right thou deny to the stranger,
  • Jove shall look on thy home, from his thunder dome,
  • Sternly wrathful, the suppliants’ avenger.

  King.

  • But if Ægyptus’ sons shall claim you, pleading
  • Their country’s laws, and their near kinship, who
  • Shall dare to stand respondent? You must plead
  • Your native laws, so the laws plead for you,
  • And speak you free from who would force your love.

  STROPHE III.

  Chorus.

  • Ah ne’er to the rough-handed youth let me yield,
  • But rather alone, ’neath the wide starry field,
  • Let me wander, an outcast, a stranger!
  • The ill-sorted yoke I abhor: and do thou,
  • With Justice to second thee, judge for me now,
  • And fear Him above, the Avenger!

  King.

  • Not I shall judge: it is no easy judgment.
  • What I have said, I said. Without the people
  • I cannot do this thing;31 being absolute king,
  • I would not. Justly, if mischance shall follow,
  • The popular tongue will blame the ruler, who,
  • To save the stranger, ruined his own flock.

  ANTISTROPHE III.

  Chorus.

  • Where kindred with kindred contendeth in war,
  • Jove looks on the strife, and decides from afar,
  • Where he holdeth the scales even-handed,*
  • O why wilt thou doubt to declare for the right?
  • He blesseth the good, but in anger will smite,
  • Where the sons of the wicked are banded.

  King.

  • To advise for you in such confounding depths,
  • My soul should be a diver, to plunge down
  • Far in the pool profound with seeing eye,
  • And feel no dizziness. ’Tis no light matter
  • Here to unite your safety and the state’s.
  • If that your kindred claim you as their right,
  • And we withstand, a bloody strife ensues.
  • If from these altars of the gods we tear you,
  • Your chosen refuge, we shall surely bring
  • The all-destroying god, the stern Alastor,*
  • To house with us, whom not the dead in Hades
  • Can flee. Is here no cause to ponder well?

  STROPHE I.

  Chorus.

  • Ponder well,
  • With thee to dwell,
  • A righteous-minded host receive us!
  • Weary-worn,
  • Exiles lorn,
  • From the godless men that grieve us
  • Save to-day;
  • Nor cast-a-way
  • Homeless, houseless, hopeless leave us!
  • ANTISTROPHE I.
  • Shall rash assaulters
  • From these altars
  • Rudely drag the friendless stranger?
  • Thou art king,
  • ’Neath thy wing
  • Cowers in vain the weak from danger?
  • Thy terror show
  • To our fierce foe,
  • Fear, O fear our High Avenger!
  • STROPHE II.
  • Where they see
  • The gods and thee,
  • Shall their lawless will not falter?
  • Shall they tear
  • My floating hair,
  • As a horse dragged by the halter?
  • Wilt thou bear
  • Him to tear
  • My frontlets fair,
  • My linen robes—the bold assaulter?
  • ANTISTROPHE II.
  • One the danger,
  • If the stranger
  • Thou reject, or welcome wisely;
  • For thee and thine
  • To Mars a fine
  • Thou shalt pay the same precisely:
  • From Egypt far
  • Fearing war,
  • Thou shalt mar
  • Thy peace with mighty Jove, not wisely.

  King.

  • Both ways I’m marred. Even here my wits are stranded.
  • With these or those harsh war to make, strong Force
  • Compels my will. Nailed am I like a vessel
  • Screwed to the dock, beneath the shipwright’s tool.
  • Which way I turn is woe. A plundered house
  • By grace of possessory Jove32 may freight
  • New ships with bales that far outweigh the loss;
  • And a rash tongue that overshoots the mark
  • With barbéd phrase that harshly frets the heart,
  • With one smooth word, may charm the offence away.
  • But ere the sluice of kindred blood be opened,
  • With vows and victims we must pray the gods
  • Importunate, if perchance such fateful harm
  • They may avert. Myself were little wise
  • To mingle in this strife: of such a war
  • Most ignorant is most blest: but may the gods
  • Deceive my fears, and crown your hopes with blessing!

  Chorus.

  Now hear the end of my respectful prayers.

  King.

  I hear. Speak on. Thy words shall not escape me.

  Chorus.

  Thou see’st this sash, this zone my stole begirding.

  King.

  Fit garniture of women. Yes; I see it.

  Chorus.

  This zone well-used may serve us well.

  King.

  How so?

  Chorus.

  If thou refuse to pledge our safety, then—

  King.

  Thy zone shall pledge it how?

  Chorus.

  • Thou shalt behold
  • These ancient altars with new tablets hung.

  King.

  Thou speak’st in riddles. Explain.

  Chorus.

  • These gods shall see me
  • Here hanging from their shrines.

  King.

  • Hush, maiden! Hush!
  • Thy words pierce through my marrow!

  Chorus.

  • Thou hast heard
  • No blind enigma now. I gave it eyes.

  King.

  • Alas! with vast environment of ills
  • I’m hedged all round. Misfortune, like a sea,
  • Comes rushing in: the deep unfathomed flood
  • I fear to cross, and find no harbour nigh.
  • Thy prayer if I refuse, black horror rises
  • Before me, that no highest-pointed aim
  • May overshoot. If posted fore these walls
  • I give thy kindred battle, I shall be
  • Amerced with bitter loss, who reckless dared
  • For woman’s sake to incarnadine the plain
  • With brave men’s blood. Yet I perforce must fear
  • The wrath of suppliant Jove, than which no terror
  • Awes human hearts more strongly. Take these branches,
  • Thou aged father of these maids, and place them
  • On other altars of the native gods,
  • Where they may speak, true heralds of thy mission,
  • To all the citizens: and, mark me, keep
  • My words within thy breast: for still the people
  • To spy a fault in whoso bears authority
  • Have a most subtle sight. Trust your good cause.
  • Thy pitiful tale may move their righteous ire
  • Against your haughty-hearted persecutors,
  • And ’neath their wings they’ll shield you. The afflicted
  • Plead for themselves: their natural due is kindness.

  Danaus.

  • Your worth we know to prize, and at their weight
  • Our high protector’s friendly words we value.
  • But send, we pray, attendant guides to show us
  • The pillar-compassed seats divine,33 the altars
  • That stand before their temples, who protect
  • This city and this land, and to insure
  • Our safety mid the people: for our coming
  • (Being strangers from the distant Nile, and not
  • Like you that drink the stream of Inachus
  • In features or in bearing) might seem strange.
  • Too bold an air might rouse suspicion; men
  • Oft-times have slain their best friends unawares.

  King[to the Attendants].

  • See him escorted well! conduct him
  • hence
  • To the altars of the city, to the shrines
  • Of the protecting gods, wasting no speech
  • On whom you meet. Attend the suppliant stranger!

  [Exeunt Attendants withDanaus.

  Chorus.

  • These words to him: and, with his sails well trimmed,
  • Fair be his voyage! But I, what shall I do,
  • My anchor where?

  King.

  • Here leave these boughs that prove
  • Thy sorrows.

  Chorus.

  • Here at thy rever’d command
  • I leave them.

  King.

  This ample wood shall shade thee; wait thou here!

  Chorus.

  No sacred grove is this how should it shield me?

  King.

  We will not yield thee to the vultures’ claws.

  Chorus.

  But worse than vultures, worse than dragons threat us.

  King.

  Gently. To fair words give a fair reply.

  Chorus.

  I’m terror-struck. Small marvel that I fret.

  King.

  Fear should be far, when I the king am near.*

  Chorus.

  With kind words cheer me, and kind actions too.

  King.

  • Thy father will return anon, meanwhile
  • I go to call the assembly of the people,34
  • And in thy favour move them, if I can.
  • Thy father, too, I’ll aptly train, how he
  • Should woo their favour. Wait ye here, and pray
  • The native gods to crown your heart’s desire
  • I go to speed the business; may Persuasion
  • And Chance, with happy issue pregnant, guide me!
  • CHORAL HYMN.
    STROPHE I.
  • King of all kings, high-blest above
  • Each blest celestial nature,
  • Strength of the strong, all-glorious Jove,
  • All crowning Consummator!35
  • Hear thou our prayer: the proud confound;
  • With hate pursue the hateful,
  • And plunge in purpling pools profound
  • The black-bench’d bark, the fateful!
  • ANTISTROPHE I.
  • Our ancient line from thee we trace
  • Our root divinely planted;
  • Look on these sisters with the grace
  • To that loved maid once granted,
  • Our mother Io; and renew
  • Sweet memory in the daughters
  • Of her thy gentle touch who knew
  • By Nile’s deep-rolling waters.
  • STROPHE II.
  • Here, even here, where ’mid the browsing kine,
  • My Argive mother fed her eye divine,
  • With rich mead’s flowery store,
  • My Libyan foot I’ve planted; hence by the brize36
  • Divinely fretted with fitful oar she hies37
  • From various shore to shore,
  • God-madded wanderer. Twice the billowy wave
  • She crossed; and twice her fated name she gave
  • To the wide sea’s straitened roar.
  • ANTISTROPHE II.
  • Spurred through the Asian land with swiftest speed
  • She fled, where Phrygian flocks far-pasturing feed
  • Then restless travelled o’er
  • Mysia, where Teuthras holds his fortress high,
  • Cilician and Pamphylian heights, and nigh
  • Where roaring waters pour
  • From fountains ever fresh their torrent floods,
  • And Aphrodite’s land whose loamy roods
  • Swell with the wheaten store.*
  • STROPHE III.
  • Thence by her wingéd keeper stung, she speeds
  • To the land divine, the many-nurturing meads,
  • And to the snow-fed stream,
  • Which like impetuous Typhon,† vasty pours
  • Its purest waves, that the salubrious shores
  • From pestilent taint redeem.‡
  • Here from harsh Hera’s madly-goading pest,
  • From hattering chase of undeserved unrest,
  • At length by the holy stream
  • ANTISTROPHE III.
  • She rests. Pale terror smote their hearts who saw
  • The unwonted sight beheld with startled awe
  • The thronging sons of Nile;
  • Nor dared to approach this thing of human face,38
  • Portentous-mingled with the lowing race,
  • Treading the Libyan soil.
  • Who then was he, the brize-stung Io’s friend,
  • With charms of soothing virtue strong to end
  • Her weary-wandering toil?
  • STROPHE IV.
  • Jove, mighty Jove, Heaven’s everlasting king,
  • He soft-inspiring came,
  • And with fond force innocuous heals her ills;
  • She from her eyes in lucent drops distils
  • The stream of sorrowful shame,
  • And in her womb from Jove a burden bore,
  • A son of blameless fame,
  • Who with his prosperous life long blessed the Libyan shore
  • ANTISTROPHE IV.
  • Far-pealed the land with jubilant shout—from Jove,
  • From Jove it surely came,
  • This living root of a far-branching line!
  • For who but Jove prevailed, with power divine,
  • Harsh Hera’s wrath to tame?
  • Such the great work of Jove; and we are such,
  • O Jove, our race who claim
  • From him whose name declares the virtue of thy touch.
  • STROPHE V.
  • For whom more justly shall my hymn be chaunted
  • Than thee, above all gods that be, high-vaunted,
  • Root of my race, great Jove;
  • Prime moulder from whose plastic-touching hand
  • Life leaps: thine ancient-minded counsels stand,
  • Thou all-devising Jove.
  • ANTISTROPHE V.
  • High-throned above the highest as the lowest,
  • Beyond thee none, and mightier none thou knowest,
  • The unfearing, all-feared one.
  • When his deep thought takes counsel to fulfil,
  • No dull delays clog Jove’s decided will,39
  • He speaks, and it is done.

  EnterDanaus.

  Danaus.

  • Be of good cheer, my daughters! All is well,
  • The popular voice hath perfected our prayers.

  Chorus.

  • Hail father, bearer of good news: but say,
  • How was the matter stablished? and how far
  • Prevailed the people’s uplifted hands to save us?

  Danaus.

  • Not doubtingly, but with a bold decision,
  • That made my old heart young again to see’t.
  • With one acclaim, a forest of right hands
  • Rose through the hurtled air. These Libyan exiles—
  • So ran the popular will—shall find a home
  • In Argos, free, and from each robber hand
  • Inviolate, the native or the stranger,
  • And, whoso holding Argive land refuses
  • To shield these virgins from the threatened force,
  • Disgrace shall brand him, and the popular vote
  • Oust him from Argos. Such response the king
  • Persuasive forced, with wise admonishment;
  • Urging the wrath of Jove, which else provoked
  • Would fatten on our woes, and the twin wrong
  • To you the stranger, and to them the city,
  • Pollution at their gate, a fuel to feed
  • Ills without end. These words the Argive people
  • Answered with suffragating hands, nor waited
  • The herald’s call to register their votes:
  • Just eloquence ruled their willing ear, and Jove
  • Crowned their fair purpose with the perfect deed.

  [Exit.

  Chorus.

  • Come then, sisters, pour we freely
  • Grateful prayers for Argive kindness;
  • Jove, the stranger’s friend, befriend us,
  • While from stranger’s mouth sincerest
  • Here we voice the hymn,
  • To a blameless issue, surely,
  • Jove will guide the fate.
  • CHORAL HYMN.
    STROPHE I.
  • Jove-born gods, benignly bending,
  • Look, we pray, with eyes befriending,
  • On these Argive halls!
  • Ne’er may Mars, the wanton daring,
  • With his shrill trump, joyless-blaring,
  • Wrap, in wild flames, fiercely flaring,
  • These Pelasgian walls!
  • Go! thy gory harvest reaping
  • Far from us: thy bloody weeping
  • Distant tribes may know.
  • Bless, O Jove, this Argive nation!
  • They have heard the supplication
  • Of thy suppliants low;
  • Where the swooping Fate abased us,
  • They with Mercy’s vote upraised us
  • From the prostrate woe!
  • ANTISTROPHE I.
  • Not with the male, the stronger, erring,
  • But, woman’s weaker cause preferring,
  • Stood their virtue proof:
  • Wisely Jove, the Avenger, fearing,
  • To the chastened eye appearing,
  • High his front of wrath up-rearing
  • ’Gainst the guilty roof.
  • For heavily, heavily weighs the Alastor,
  • Scapeless, and, with sore disaster,
  • Sinks the sinner low.
  • Bless, O Jove, this Argive nation,
  • That knew their kindred’s supplication,
  • And saved them from the foe:
  • And when their vows they pay, then surely
  • Gifts from clean hands offered purely
  • Thou in grace shalt know.
  • STROPHE II.
  • High these suppliant branches raising,
  • Sisters, ancient Argos praising,
  • Pour the grateful strain!
  • Far from thy Pelasgian portals
  • Dwell black Plague, from drooping mortals
  • Ebbing life to drain!
  • May’st thou see the crimson river
  • From fierce home-bred slaughter, never
  • Flowing o’er thy plain!
  • Far from thee the youth-consuming
  • Blossom-plucking strife!
  • The harsh spouse of Aphrodite,
  • Furious Mars in murder mighty,
  • Where he sees thy beauty blooming,
  • Spare his blood-smeared knife!
  • ANTISTROPHE II
  • May a reverend priesthood hoary
  • Belt thy shrines, their chiefest glory,
  • With an holy band!
  • By the bountiful libation,
  • By the blazing pile, this nation
  • Shall securely stand.
  • Jove, the great All-ruler, fearing,
  • Jove, the stranger’s stay, revering,
  • Ye shall save the land;
  • Jove, sure-throned above all cavil,
  • Rules by ancient right,
  • May just rulers never fail thee!
  • Holy Hecate’s aid avail thee,40
  • To thy mothers when in travail
  • Sending labours light!
  • STROPHE III.
  • May no wasting march of ruin
  • Work, O Argos, thine undoing!
  • Never may’st thou hear
  • Cries of Mars, the shrill, the lyreless!
  • Ne’er may tearful moans, and quireless,
  • Wake the sleeper’s ear!
  • Far from thee the shapes black-trooping
  • Of disease, delightless-drooping!
  • May the blazing death-winged arrow
  • Of the Sun-god spare the marrow
  • Of thy children dear!
  • ANTISTROPHE III.
  • Mighty Jove, the gracious giver,
  • With his full-sheaved bounty ever
  • Crown the fruited year!
  • Flocks that graze before thy dwelling
  • With rich increase yearly swelling
  • The prosperous ploughman cheer!
  • May the gods no grace deny thee,
  • And the tuneful Muses nigh thee,
  • With exuberant raptures brimming,
  • From virgin throats thy praises hymning
  • Hold the charmèd ear!
  • STROPHE IV.
  • O’er the general weal presiding,
  • They that rule with far-providing
  • Wisdom sway, and stably-guiding,
  • Changeful counsels mar!
  • Timely with each foreign nation
  • Leagues of wise conciliation
  • Let them join, fierce wars avoiding,
  • From sharp losses far!
  • ANTISTROPHE IV.
  • The native gods, strong to deliver,
  • With blood of oxen free-poured ever,
  • With laurel-branches failing never,
  • Piously adore!
  • Honour thy parents: spurn not lightly
  • This prime statute sanctioned rightly,
  • Cling to this, a holy liver,
  • Steadfast evermore!

  Re-enterDanaus.

  Danaus.

  • Well hymned, my daughters! I commend your prayers;
  • But brace your hearts, nor fear, though I, your father,
  • Approach the bearer of unlooked-for news.
  • For from this consecrated hold of gods
  • I spy the ship; too gallantly it peers
  • To cheat mine eye. The sinuous sail I see,
  • The bulging fence-work on each side,41 the prow
  • Fronted with eyes to track its watery way,42
  • True to the steerman’s hint that sits behind,
  • And with no friendly bearing On the deck
  • Appear the crew, their swarthy limbs more swart
  • By snow-white vests revealed: a goodly line
  • Of succour in the rear: but in the van
  • The admiral ship, with low-furled sail makes way
  • By the swift strokes of measured-beating oars.
  • Wait calmly ye, and with well-counselled awe
  • Cling to the gods; the while ye watch their coming,
  • Myself will hence, and straight return with aid
  • To champion our need.43 For I must look for
  • Some herald or ambassador claiming you,
  • Their rightful prey, forthwith; but fear ye not,
  • Their harsh will may not be. This warning take
  • Should we with help be slow, remain you here
  • Nor leave these gods, your strength. Faint not: for surely
  • Comes the appointed hour, and will not stay,
  • When godless men to Jove just fine shall pay.

  STROPHE I.

  Chorus.

  • Father, I tremble, lest the fleet-winged ships,
  • Ere thou return, shall land—soon—very soon!
  • O father, I tremble to stay, and not flee,
  • When the bands of the ruthless are near!
  • My flight to foreclose from the chase of my foes!
  • O father, I faint for fear!

  Danaus.

  • Fear not, my children. The accomplished vote
  • Of Argos saves you. They are champions sworn.

  ANTISTROPHE I.

  Chorus.

  • They come—destruction’s minions mad with hate,
  • Of fight insatiate: well thou know’st the men.
  • With their host many-counted, their ships dark-fronted,44
  • They are near, O father, how near!
  • Their ships stoutly-timbered, their crews swarthy-membered,
  • Triumphant in wrath I fear!

  Danaus.

  • Even let them come. They’ll find their match in Argos;
  • A strong-limbed race with noon-day sweats well hardened.45

  STROPHE II.

  Chorus.

  • Only not leave me! Pray thee, father, stay!
  • Weak is a lonely woman. No Mars is in her.46
  • Dark-counselled, false, cunning-hearted are they,
  • Unholy, as obscene crows
  • On the feast of the altar that filthily prey;
  • They fear not the gods, my foes!

  Danaus.

  • ’Twill make our cause the stronger, daughters, if
  • Their crime be sacrilege, and their foes the gods.

  ANTISTROPHE II.

  Chorus.

  • The trident and the sacred blazonry
  • Will not repel their violent hands, O father!
  • They are proud, haughty-hearted, a high-blown race;
  • They are hot, they are mad for the fray!
  • With the hound in their heart, and the dog in their face,
  • They will tear from the altar their prey.

  Danaus.

  • Dogs let them be, the world has wolves to master them!
  • And good Greek corn is better than papyrus.47

  Chorus.

  • Being reasonless as brutes, unholy monsters,
  • And spurred with wrath we must beware their fury.

  Danaus.

  • ’Tis no light work to land a fleet. To find
  • Safe roads, sure anchorage, and to make fast
  • The cables, this not with mere thought is done.
  • The shepherds of the ships48 are slow to feel
  • Full confidence, the more that on this coast
  • Harbours are few.49 Besides, thou see’st the sun
  • Slants to the night; and still a prudent pilot
  • Fears in the dark. No man will disembark,
  • Trust me, till all are firmly anchored. Thou
  • Through all thy terrors still cling to the gods,
  • Thy most sure stay. Thy safety’s pledged. For me
  • I’m old, but with the tongue of fluent youth
  • I’ll speak for thee, a pleader without blame.

  [Exit.

  • CHORAL HYMN.
    STROPHE I.
  • O hilly land, high-honoured land,
  • What wait we now, poor fugitive band?
  • Some dark, dark cave
  • Show me, within thy winding strand,
  • To hide and save!
  • Would I might vanish in smoke, ascending
  • To Heaven, with Jove’s light clouds dim-blending
  • In misty air,
  • Like wingless, viewless dust, and ending
  • In nothing there!
  • ANTISTROPHE I.
  • ’Tis more than heart may bear. Quick Fear
  • My quaking life with dusky drear
  • Alarm surroundeth!
  • My father spied my ruin: sheer
  • Despair confoundeth.
  • Sooner, high-swung from fatal rope,
  • Here may I end both life and hope,
  • And strong Death bind me,
  • Than hated hearts shall reach their scope,
  • And shame shall find me!
  • STROPHE II.
  • Would I were throned in ether high,
  • Where snows are born, and through the sky
  • The white rack skurries! Would that I
  • Might sit sublime
  • On a hanging cliff where lone winds sigh,50
  • Where human finger never showed
  • The far-perched vultures’ drear abode,
  • Nor goat may climb!
  • Thence sheer to leap, and end for ever
  • My life and name,
  • Ere forceful hands this heart deliver
  • To married shame!
  • ANTISTROPHE II.
  • There, where no friendly foot may stray,
  • There let me lie, my limbs a prey
  • To dogs and birds: I not gainsay:
  • ’Twas wisely said,
  • Free from much woe who dies to-day
  • Shall be to-morrow. Rather than wedded
  • To whom I hate, let me be bedded
  • Now with the dead!
  • Or if there be, my life to free,
  • A way, declare it,
  • Ye gods!—a surgeon’s cut for me,
  • My heart shall bear it!
  • STROPHE III.
  • Voice ye your sorrow! with the cry
  • Of doleful litany pierce the sky!
  • For freedom, for quick rescue cry
  • To him above!
  • Ruler of Earth, look from thy throne,
  • With eyes of love!
  • These deeds of violence wilt thou own,
  • Nor know thy prostrate suppliant’s groan,
  • Almighty Jove?
  • ANTISTROPHE III.
  • Ægyptus’ sons, a haughty race,
  • Follow my flight with sleepless chase,
  • With whoop and bay they scent my trace
  • To force my love
  • Thy beam is true; both good and ill
  • Thy sure scales prove,
  • Thou even-handed! Mortals still
  • Reap fair fulfilment from thy will,
  • All-crowning Jove.

  Chorus,in separate voices, and short hurried exclamations:51

  Voice 1.

  • Ah me! he lands! he leaps ashore!
  • He strides with ruffian hands to hale us!

  Voice 2.

  • Cry, sisters, cry! swift help implore!
  • If here to cry may aught avail us!

  Voice 3.

  • Ah me! ’tis but the muffled roar
  • Of forceful storms soon to assail us!

  Voice 1.

  Flee to the gods! to the altars cling!

  Voice 2.

  • By sea, by land, the ruthless foe
  • Grimly wantons in our woe!

  Voice 3.

  Beneath thy wing shield us, O king!

  EnterHerald.

  Herald.

  • Hence to the ships! to the good ships fare ye!52
  • Swiftly as your feet may bear ye!

  Chorus.

  • Tear us! tear us!
  • Rend us rather,
  • Torture and tear us!
  • From this body
  • Cut the head!
  • Gorily gather
  • Us to the dead!

  Herald.

  • Hence to the ships, away! away!
  • A curse on you, and your delay!
  • O’er the briny billowy way
  • Thou shalt go to-day, to-day!
  • Wilt thou stand, a mulish striver,
  • I can spur, a forceful driver;
  • Deftly, deftly, thou shalt trip
  • To the stoutly-timbered ship!
  • If to yield thou wilt not know,
  • Gorily, gorily thou shalt go!
  • An’ thou be not madded wholly,
  • Know thy state, and quit thy folly!

  Chorus.

  Help, ho! help, ho! help!

  Herald.

  • To the ships! to the ships away with me!
  • These gods of Argos what reck we?

  Chorus.

  • Never, O never
  • The nurturing river,
  • Of life the giver,
  • The healthful flood
  • That quickens the blood
  • Let me behold!
  • An Argive am I,*
  • From Inachus old,
  • These gods deny
  • Thy claim. Withhold!

  Herald.

  • To the ships, to the ships, with march not slow,
  • Will ye, nill ye, ye must go!
  • Quickly, quickly, hence away!
  • Know thy master and obey!
  • Ere a worse thing thou shalt know—
  • Blows and beating—gently go!

  STROPHE I.

  Chorus.

  • Worse than worsest
  • May’st thou know!
  • As thou cursest,
  • Curst be so!
  • The briny billow
  • O’er thee flow!
  • On sandy pillow
  • Bedded low,
  • ’Neath Sarpedon’s breezy brow,*
  • With the shifting sands shift thou!

  Herald.

  • Scream—rend your robes in rags!—call on the gods!
  • The Egyptian bark thou shalt not overleap.
  • Pour ye the bitter bootless wail at will!

  ANTISTROPHE I.

  Chorus.

  • With fierce heart swelling
  • To work my woe,
  • With keen hate yelling
  • Barks the foe.
  • Broad Nile welling
  • O’er thee flow!
  • Find thy dwelling
  • Bedded low,
  • ’Neath the towering Libyan waters,
  • Towering thou ’gainst Libya’s daughters!

  Herald.

  • To the ships! to the ships! the swift ships even-oared!
  • Quickly! no laggard shifts! the hand that drags thee
  • Will lord it o’er thy locks, not gently handled!

  STROPHE II.

  Chorus.

  • O father, oh!
  • From the altar
  • The assaulter
  • Drags me to my woe!
  • Step by step, a torturing guider,
  • Like the slowly-dragging spider,
  • Cruel-minded so
  • Like a dream,
  • A dusky dream,
  • My hope away doth go!
  • O Earth, O Earth,
  • From death redeem!
  • O Earth, O Jove deliver!

  Herald.

  • Your Argive gods I know not; they nor nursed
  • My infant life, nor reared my riper age.

  ANTISTROPHE II.

  Chorus.

  • O father, oh!
  • From the altar
  • The assaulter
  • Drags me to my woe!
  • A snake two-footed fiercely fretted
  • Swells beside me! from his whetted
  • Fangs, black death doth flow!
  • Like a dream,
  • A dusky dream,
  • My hope is vanished so!
  • O Earth, O Earth,
  • From death redeem!
  • O Earth, O Jove deliver!

  Herald.

  • To the ships! to the ships! Obey! I say, obey!
  • Pity thy robes, if not thy flesh—away!

  STROPHE III.

  Chorus.

  • Ye chiefs of the city,
  • By force they subdue me!

  Herald.

  • Well! I must drag thee by the hair! come! come!
  • Point thy dull ears, and hear me!—come! come! come!

  ANTISTROPHE III.

  Chorus.

  • I’m lost! I’m ruined!
  • O king, they undo me!

  Herald.

  • Thou shalt see kings enough anon, believe me,
  • Ægyptus’ sons—kingless thou shalt not die.

  EnterKingwith Attendants.

  King.

  • Fellow, what wouldst thou? With what purpose here
  • Dost flout this land of brave Pelasgian men?
  • Deem’st thou us women? A barbarian truly
  • Art thou, if o’er the Greek to sport it thus
  • The fancy tempts thee. Nay, but thou art wrong
  • Both root and branch in this

  Herald.

  How wrong? Speak plainly.

  King.

  • Thou art a stranger here, and dost not know
  • As a stranger how to bear thee.

  Herald.

  • This I know,
  • I lost my own, and what I lost I found.

  King.

  Thy patrons* who, on this Pelasgian ground?

  Herald.

  • To find stray goods the world all over, Hermes
  • Is prince of patrons53

  King.

  • Hermes is a god,
  • Thou, therefore, fear the gods

  Herald.

  • And I do fear
  • The gods of the Nile.

  King.

  We too have gods in Argos.

  Herald.

  • So be it: but, in Argos or in Africk,
  • My own’s my own

  King.

  • Who touches these reaps harm,
  • And that right soon

  Herald.

  • No friendly word thou speak’st,
  • To welcome strangers.

  King.

  • Strangers are welcome here;
  • But not to spoil the gods.

  Herald.

  • These words of thine
  • To Ægyptus’ sons be spoken, not to me

  King.

  I take no counsel, or from them, or thee.

  Herald.

  • Thou—who art thou? for I must plainly make
  • Rehearsal to my masters—this my office
  • Enforces—both by whom, and why, unjustly
  • I of this kindred company of women
  • Am robbed. A serious strife it is; no bandying
  • Of words from witnesses, no silver passed
  • From hand to hand will lay such ugly strife;
  • But man for man must fall, and noblest souls
  • Must dash their lives away.

  King.

  • For what I am,
  • You, and your shipmates, soon enough shall know me
  • These maids, if with the softly suasive word
  • Thou canst prevail, are thine; to force we never
  • Will yield the suppliant sisters; thus the people
  • With one acclaim have voted; ’tis nailed down
  • Thus to the letter. So it must remain.
  • Thou hast my answer, not in tablets graven,
  • Or in the volumed scroll, all stamped and sealed,
  • But from a free Greek mouth. Dost understand me?
  • Hence quickly from my sight!

  Herald.

  • Of this be sure,
  • A war thou stirrest, in which, when once begun,
  • The males will be the stronger.

  King.

  • We, too, have males
  • In Argos, lusty-blooded men, who drink
  • Good wine, not brewed from barley.* As for you,
  • Ye virgins, fearless follow where these guides
  • Shall lead. Our city strongly girt with wall,
  • And high-reared tower receives you. We can boast
  • Full many a stately mansion; stateliest piled
  • My palace stands, work of no feeble hands.
  • Right pleasant ’tis in populous floors to lodge
  • With many a fellow-tenant: some will find
  • A greater good in closely severed homes,
  • That have no common gates: of these thou hast
  • The ample choice: take what shall like thee most
  • Know me thy patron, and in all things know
  • My citizens thy shield, whose vote hath pledged
  • Thy safety; surer guarantee what wouldst thou?

  Chorus.

  • Blessing for thy blessing given,
  • Flow to thee, divine Pelasgian!
  • But for our advisal forthwith
  • Send, we pray thee, for our father;
  • He the firm, the far foreseeing,
  • How to live, and where to lodge us,
  • Duly shall direct. For ever
  • Quick to note the faults of strangers
  • Sways the general tongue; though we
  • Hope all that’s good and best from thee.

  King[to the attendant maids]:

  • Likewise you, ye maids attendant
  • For his daughters’ service, wisely
  • Portioned by the father, here
  • Be your home secure,
  • Far from idle-bruited babblings,
  • ’Neath my wing to dwell!

  EnterDanaus,attended by an Argive guard.

  Danaus.

  • Daughters! if so the Olympian gods deserve
  • Your sacrifices, your libations, surely
  • Argos no less may claim them! Argos truly
  • Your Saviour in worst need! With eager ears
  • They drank my tale, indignant the foul deeds
  • Of our fell-purposed cousinship they heard,
  • And for my guard this goodly band they set me
  • Of strong spear-bearing men, lest being slain
  • By the lurking lance of some insidious foe
  • My death bring shame to Argos. Such high honor,
  • From hearts where kindness moves the friendly deed,
  • They heaped the sire withal, that you, the daughters,
  • In father’s stead should own them. For the rest,
  • To the chaste precepts graven on your heart
  • That oft I gave, one timely warning add,
  • That time, which proveth all, approve your lives
  • Before this people; for ’gainst the stranger, calumny
  • Flows deftly from the tongue, and cheap traducement
  • Costs not a thought. I charge ye, therefore, daughters,
  • Your age being such that turns the eyes of men
  • To ready gaze, in all ye do consult
  • Your father’s honor: such ripe bloom as yours
  • No careless watch demands: so fair a flower
  • Wild beasts and men, monsters of all degrees,
  • Winged and four-footed, wantonly will tear.
  • Her luscious-dropping fruits the Cyprian* hangs
  • In the general view, and publishes their praise;54
  • That whoso passes, and beholds the pomp
  • Of shapeliest beauty, feels the charmed dart
  • That shoots from eye to eye, and vanquished falls
  • By strong desire. Give, therefore, jealous heed
  • That our long toils, and ploughing the deep sea
  • Not fruitless fall; but be your portment such
  • As breeds no shame to us, nor to our enemies
  • Laughter. A double lodgment for our use,
  • One from the state, the other from the king,
  • Rentless we hold. All things look bright. This only,
  • Your father’s word, remember. More than life
  • Hold a chaste heart in honor.

  Chorus.

  • The high Olympians
  • Grant all thy wish! For us and our young bloom,
  • Fear nothing, father: for unless the gods
  • Have forged new counsels, we ev’n to the end
  • Will tread the trodden path, and will not bend.

  CHORAL HYMN.55
  STROPHE I.

  Semi-Chorus 1.

  • Lift ye the solemn hymn!
  • High let your pæans brim!
  • Praise in your strain
  • Gods that in glory reign
  • High o’er the Argive plain,
  • High o’er each castled hold,
  • Where Erasinus old*
  • Winds to the main!

  Semi-Chorus 2 [to the attendant maids]:

  • Sing, happy maids, with me!
  • Loud with responsive glee
  • Voice ye the strain!
  • Praise ye the Argive shore,
  • Praise holy Nile no more,
  • Wide where his waters roar,
  • Mixed with the main!

  ANTISTROPHE I.

  Semi-Chorus 1.

  • Lift ye the solemn hymn!
  • High let your pæans brim!
  • Praise in your strain
  • Torrents that bravely swell
  • Fresh through each Argive dell,
  • Broad streams that lazily
  • Wander, and mazily
  • Fatten the plain.

  Semi-Chorus 2.

  • Sing, sisters, sing with me
  • Artemis chaste! may she
  • List to the strain!
  • Never, O never may
  • Marriage with fearful sway
  • Bind me; nor I obey
  • Hatefullest chain!

  STROPHE II.

  Semi-Chorus 1.

  • Yet, mighty praise be thine56
  • Cyprian queen divine!
  • Hera, with thee I join,
  • Nearest to Jove.
  • Subtly conceiving all,
  • Wiseliest weaving all,
  • Thy will achieving all
  • Nobly by love!

  Semi-Chorus 2.

  • With thee Desire doth go;
  • Peitho,* with suasive flow
  • Bending the willing foe,
  • Marches with thee.
  • Lovely Harmonia57
  • Knows thee, and, smote with awc,
  • Strong kings obey the law
  • Whispered by thee.

  STROPHE IV.

  Semi-Chorus 1.

  • Yet must I fear the chase,58
  • Sail spread in evil race,
  • War with a bloody pace
  • Spurred after me.
  • Why to this Argive shore
  • Came they with plashing oar,
  • If not with sorrow’s store
  • Treasured for me?

  Semi-Chorus 2.

  • Comes fated good or ill,
  • Wait we in patience still!
  • No power may thwart his will
  • Jove, mighty Jove.
  • Laden with sorrow’s store
  • Virgins in days of yore
  • Praised, when their grief was o’er,
  • Jove, mighty Jove.

  Semi-Chorus 1.

  • Jove, mighty Jove, may he
  • From wedded force for me
  • Rescue prepare!

  Semi-Chorus 2.

  • Fair fall our maiden lot!
  • But mighty Jove may not
  • Yield to thy prayer.

  Semi-Chorus 1.

  • Know’st thou what woes may be
  • Stored yet by Fate for me?

  Semi-Chorus 2.

  • Jove and his hidden plan
  • Sight of the sharpest man
  • Searcheth in vain;
  • Thou in thy narrow span
  • Wisely remain!

  Semi-Chorus 1.

  • Wisely my thought may fare
  • Tell me, O tell me where?

  Semi-Chorus 2.

  • ’Gainst what the gods ordain
  • Fret not thy heart in vain

  STROPHE

  Semi-Chorus 1

  • Save me, thou chief of gods, great Jove,
  • From violent bonds of hated love,
  • Even as the Inachian maid of yore
  • Thy hand set free from labour sore,
  • What time thou soothed with touch divine
  • Her weary frame,
  • And with a friendly force benign
  • Thy healing came.

  ANTISTROPHE.

  Semi-Chorus 2.

  • May the woman’s cause prevail!
  • And, when two certain ills assail,
  • Be ours the less: and Justice fair
  • For the just shall still declare.
  • Ye mighty gods o’er human fates
  • Supremely swaying,
  • On you my prayer, my fortune waits,
  • Your will obeying.

  NOTES TO THE SUPPLIANTS

  THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES
  
  A LYRICO-DRAMATIC SPECTACLE

  • I cannot think but curses climb the sky,
  • And there awake God’s gentle-sleeping peace.

  • Shakespere.

  • Alle Schuld rächt sich auf Erden.

  • Goethe.

  PERSONS

  Eteocles, Son of Oedipus.

  Messenger.

  Chorus of Theban Virgins.

  Ismene, } Sisters of Eteocles.

  Antigone, } Sisters of Eteocles.

  Herald.

  Scene—The Acropolis of Thebes.

  INTRODUCTORY REMARKS

  • Sow not the seed of children, in despite
  • Of the gods: for if thou shalt beget a son,
  • Him who begat shall the begotten slay,
  • And all thy house in bloody ruin perish.*

  With regard to the merits of the present piece, while its structure exhibits, in the most striking manner, the deficient skill of the early dramatists, its spirit is everywhere manly and noble, and instinct with the soul of the warlike actions which it describes. The best parts are epic, not dramatic—namely, those in which the Messenger describes the different characters and appearance of the seven chiefs posted each at a separate gate of the Cadmean city. The drama concludes with a Theban coronach or wall over the dead bodies of the self-slain brothers; for the proper relishing of which, the imaginative reproduction of some appropriate music is indispensable. The introduction after this of the Herald, announcing the decree of the Theban senate, whereby burial is denied to the body of Polynices, and the heroic display of sisterly affection on the part of Antigone, are—if this really was the last piece of a trilogy—altogether foreign both to the action and to the tone of the tragedy, and must be regarded as a blunder. If Schiller, and even Shakespeare, on occasions, could err in such matters, much more Æschylus.

  THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES

  Eteocles.

  • Ye citizens of Cadmus! he who sits
  • Holding the helm in the high poop of state,
  • Watchful, with sleepless eyes, must, when he speaks,
  • Speak words that suit the time. If we succeed,
  • The gods will have the praise; but should we fail
  • (Which may averting Jove from me avert,1
  • And from this Theban city!), I alone
  • Must bear the up-heaped murmurings of the whole,
  • A motley-voiced lament. Ye men of Thebes,
  • Not manhood’s vigour only, but ye also
  • Who lack ripe years, and ye whose green old age
  • Nurses unwithered strength,* arm, and redeem
  • Your country’s honor from a cruel blot.
  • Let not the citadel of your ancient sires,
  • The altars of your native gods, your children,
  • Nor the dear mother Earth, that nursed you, blame
  • The slackness of your love—the nurse who bore
  • Your creeping childhood on her fostering soil,
  • And through your slow growth up to firmer years,
  • Toiled that the strong arms of her faithful sons,
  • Might shield her need. Up to this hour the god
  • Inclines to us; though close hedged in by the foe,
  • The vantage hath been ours. But now the seer,
  • The shepherd of prophetic birds’ revolving
  • In his ear and inward sense deep-pondered truths,2
  • By no false art, though without help from fire,
  • Even he soothsaying sings that the Argive camp
  • Holds midnight council to attack the city.
  • Therefore be ready; mount the battlements;
  • Top every tower; crown every parapet;
  • Fence every gate with valiant-hearted men,
  • Well harnessed for the fight: and never fear
  • This trooping alien foe. The gods will give
  • A happy issue. Myself have sent out scouts,
  • Sure men, not wont to linger. Their advice
  • Shall shield us from surprise.

  EnterMessenger.

  Mess.

  • Eteocles,
  • Most excellent lord of Thebes! what I have seen
  • With mine own eyes, no idle unvouched tale,
  • I bring thee from the camp Seven warlike chiefs
  • I saw, in solemn sacrifice assembled:
  • Holding the head of the devoted ox,
  • Over the shield with iron rimmed they dipped
  • Their hands in the steaming blood, and swore an oath,
  • By Mars, Enýo, and blood-loving Terror,3
  • Either to raze the walls of Thebes, and plunder
  • The citadel of Cadmus, or else drench
  • This soil with Argive blood. Then, as for death
  • Prepared, they decked the chariot of Adrastus4
  • With choice love-tokens to their Argive kin,
  • Dropping a tear, but with their mouths they gave
  • No voice. An iron-hearted band are they,
  • Breathing hot war, like lions when their eye
  • Looks instant battle. Such my news; nor I
  • Slow to report; for in the camp I left them
  • Eager to share among their several bands
  • Our gates by lot. Therefore, bestir thee; fence
  • Each gate with the choicest men: dash all delay;
  • For now the Argive host, near and more near,
  • All panoplied comes on; the dark-wreathed dust
  • Rolls, and the snowy foam of snorting chargers
  • Stains the pure Theban soil. Like a wise pilot
  • That scents the coming gale, hold thou the city
  • Tight, ere the storm of Ares on our heads
  • Burst pitiless. Loud the mainland wave is roaring.
  • This charge be thine: myself, a sleepless spy,
  • Will bring thee sure word from the hostile camp:
  • Safe from without, so ye be strong within

  [Exit.

  Eteocles.

  • O Jove! O Earth! O Gods that keep the city!
  • And thou fell Fury of my father’s curse!*
  • Destroy not utterly this Cadméan seat
  • Rent, razed, deracinated by the foe!
  • Yield not our pious hearths, where the loved speech
  • Of Hellas echoes, to a stranger host!
  • Let not the free-born Theban bend the neck,
  • To slavery thralled, beneath a tyrant’s yoke!
  • Be ye our strength! our common cause we plead;
  • A prosperous state hath cause to bless the gods.

  [Exit.

  I.

  TheChorus5enter the scene in great hurry and agitation.

  • • O wailing and sorrow, O wailing and woe!
    • Their tents they have left, many-banded they ride,
    • And onward they tramp with the prance of pride,
    • The horsemen of the foe.
    • The dark-volumed dust-cloud that rides on the gale,
    • Though voiceless, declares a true messenger’s tale;
    • With clattering hoofs, on and on still they ride,6
    • It swells on my ear, loud it rusheth and roareth,
    • As a fierce wintry torrent precipitous poureth,
    • Rapidly lashing the mountain side.
  • • Hear me ye gods, and ye goddesses hear me!
    • The black harm prevent that swells near and more near me!
    • As a wave on the shore when the blast beats the coast,
    • So breaks o’er the walls, from the white-shielded host,7
    • The eager war-cry, the sharp cry of fear,
    • As near still it rolls, and more near.

  II.

  TheChorusbecome more and more agitated. They speak one to another in short hurried exclamations, and in great confusion.

  Chorus 1.

  • To which of the gods and the goddesses now
  • Shall I pay my vow?

  Chorus 2.

  • Shall I cling to the altar, and kneeling embrace
  • The guardian gods of the Theban race?

  Tutti.

  • Ye blissful Olympians, throned sublime,
  • In the hour of need, in the urgent time,
  • May the deep drawn sigh,
  • And the heart’s strong cry
  • Ascend not in vain to your seats sublime!

  Chorus 1.

  • Heard ye the shields rattle, heard ye the spear?
  • In this dark day of dole,
  • With chaplet and stole8
  • Let us march to the temples, and worship in fear!

  Chorus 2.

  • I heard the shield’s rattle, and spear clashed on spear
  • Came stunning my ear.

  Tutti.

  • O Ares, that shines in the helmet of gold,9
  • Thine own chosen city wilt thou behold
  • To slavery sold?
  • O Ares, Ares, wilt thou betray
  • Thy Theban home to-day?

  III.

  TheChoruscrown the altars of the gods, and then, falling on their knees, sing the following Theban Litany, in one continuous chaunt.

  • Patron gods that keep the city,
  • Look, look down upon our woe,
  • Save this band of suppliant virgins
  • From the harsh-enslaving foe!
  • For a rush of high-plumed warriors
  • Round the city of the free,
  • By the blast of Ares driven,
  • Roars, like billows of the sea.
  • Father Jove the consummator,*
  • Save us from the Argive spear;
  • For their bristling ranks enclose us,
  • And our hearts do quake with fear,
  • And their steeds with ringing bridles10
  • Knell destruction o’er the land;
  • And seven chiefs, with lance in hand,
  • Fixed by lot to share the slaughter,
  • At the seventh gate proudly stand.
  • Save us, Pallas, war-delighting
  • Daughter of immortal Jove!
  • Save us, lord of billowy ocean!
  • God of pawing steeds, Poseidon,11
  • Join thine aid to his above,
  • And with thy fish-piercing trident
  • Still our hearts, our fears remove.
  • Save us Ares! father Ares,
  • Father now thy children’s need!
  • Save us Cypris, mother of Thebans,12
  • For we are thy blood indeed!
  • Save us, save us, Wolf-Apollo,13
  • Be a wolf against the foe!
  • Whet thine arrows, born of Leto,
  • Leto’s daughter bend thy bow!

  IV.

  The Litany is here interrupted by the noise of the besiegers storming the city, and is continued in a hurried irregular manner.

  Chorus 1.

  I hear the dread roll of the chariots of war!

  Tutti.

  O holy Hera!

  Chorus 2.

  And the axles harsh-creaking with dissonant jar!

  Tutti.

  O Artemis dear!

  Chorus 1.

  And the vext air is madded with quick-branished spears.

  Semi-Chorus 1.

  To Thebes, our loved city, what hope now appears?

  Semi-Chorus 2.

  And when shall the gods bring an end of our fears?

  Chorus 1.

  Hark! hark! stony hail the near rampart is lashing!

  Tutti.

  O blest Apollo!

  Chorus 2.

  And iron-bound shield against shield is clashing!

  Tutti.

  • The issue of war with the gods abideth,
  • The doubtful struggle great Jove decideth.
  • O Onca, blest Onca,14 whose worshippers ever
  • Invoke thee, the queen of the Oncan gate,
  • The seven-gated city deliver, deliver,15
  • Thou guardian queen of the gate.

  V.

  TheChorusunite again into a full band, and sing the Finale of the Litany in regular Strophe and Antistrophe.

  • STROPHE.
  • Gods and goddesses almighty!
  • Earthly and celestial powers!
  • Of all good things consummators,
  • Guardians of the Theban towers!
  • Save the spear-encompassed city
  • From a foreign-speaking foe!16
  • Hear the virgin band, that prays thee
  • With the out-stretched arms of woe!
  • ANTISTROPHE.
  • Gods and demigods! the city
  • Aid that on your aid depends,
  • Watch around us, and defend us;
  • He is strong whom God defends.
  • Bear the incense in remembrance
  • Of our public sacrifice;
  • From a people rich in offerings
  • Let no prayer unanswered rise!

  Re-enterEteocles.

  Eteocles.

  • Answer me this, insufferable brood!
  • Is this your wisdom, this your safety-note
  • To Theban soldiers, this your war-cry, thus
  • In prostrate woe clasping the guardian gods,
  • To scream and wail the vain lament of fools?
  • I pray the gods, in good or evil days,
  • May never fate be mine to lodge with women.
  • When fortune’s brave, their pride’s unbearable,
  • But, comes a thought of fear, both hall and forum
  • Must ring with their laments. Why run ye thus
  • From street to street, into the hearts of men
  • Scattering dastardy, and bruiting fear?
  • Nay, but ye chiefly help the enemy’s cause
  • Without the gate, and we by friends within
  • Are more besieged; such aid expect from women!
  • Thebans give ear; whoso shall disobey
  • My word in Thebes, man, woman, old, or young,
  • Whoe’er he be, against himself he writes
  • Black sentence to be stoned by the public hand.
  • Without the gates let brave men fight; within
  • Let women tend their children, and their webs.
  • Hear ye, or hear ye not? or do I speak
  • To the deaf?

  STROPHE I.

  Chorus.

  • Son of Oedipus be witness!
  • Should not terror rob our wits,
  • When we hear the roll of chariots,
  • Whirling wheels, and creaking axles,
  • And the unresting tramp of horses
  • Champing fierce their fire-forged bits?

  Eteocles.

  • What then? when with the storm the good ship labours,
  • Shall the wise helmsman leave his proper post,
  • To clasp the painted gods upon the prow?17

  ANTISTROPHE I.

  Chorus.

  • When we heard war’s rattling hail-drift
  • Round our ramparts wildly rave,
  • Trusting to the gods of Cadmus,
  • Spurred by fear, we hither hurried,
  • Here to pray, and clasp the statues
  • Of the good gods strong to save.

  Eteocles.

  • Pray that our well-manned walls be strong to save us,
  • Else will the gods help little. Who knows not
  • That, when a city falls, they pass to the Victor?18

  STROPHE II.

  Chorus.

  • Never, never may the council
  • Of the assembled gods desert us,
  • While I live, and look on day!
  • Never, never may the stranger
  • Rush through the streets, while midnight burning
  • Lights the robber to his prey!

  Eteocles.

  • Weak prayers confound wise counsel. Know ye not
  • Obedience is the mother of success,
  • And pledge of victory. So the wise have spoken.

  ANTISTROPHE II.

  Chorus.

  • But the gods are strong. When mortals
  • Stretch the arm in vain to save us,
  • Help is waiting from above.
  • When dark night enveils the welkin,
  • And thick-mantled ruin gathers,
  • They enclasp us round with love.

  Eteocles.

  • Leave sacrifice and oracles to men,
  • And ’gainst the imminent foe pray to the gods.
  • Women should hold their tongues, and keep their homes.

  STROPHE III.

  Chorus.

  • By the strength of gods the city
  • Each rude tide hath learnt to stem;
  • Who shall charge us with offending,
  • When we make our vows to them?

  Eteocles.

  • Your vows I grudge not, nor would stint your prayers;
  • But this I say, blow not your fears about,
  • Nor taint the general heart with apprehension.

  ANTISTROPHE III.

  Chorus.

  • Startled by the blare of battle,
  • Hearing clash of combat fell,
  • With a quaking heart I hied me
  • To this sacred citadel.

  Eteocles.

  • And when ye hear that some are dead or wounded,
  • Drag not the news with wailings through the town;
  • For blood of mortals is the common food19
  • Of the war god.

  Chorus.

  Hark! the angry steeds are snorting.

  Eteocles.

  Hear what thou wilt; but do not hear aloud

  Chorus.

  • The Earth beneath me groans, the wall is shaking.

  Eteocles.

  The walls are mine to uphold. Pray you, be silent.

  Chorus.

  • Woe’s me, the clash of arms, loud and more loud,
  • Rings at the gate!

  Eteocles.

  And thou the loudest!—Peace!

  Chorus.

  Great council of the gods, O save us! save us!

  Eteocles

  Perdition seize thee! thy words flow like water.

  Chorus.

  O patron gods, save me from captive chains!

  Eteocles.

  Thy fear makes captive me, and thee, and all.

  Chorus.

  O mighty Jove, fix with thy dart the foe!

  Eteocles.

  O Jove, of what strange stuff hast thou made women!

  Chorus.

  Men are no better, when their city’s captured.

  Eteocles.

  Dost clasp the gods again, and scream and howl?

  Chorus.

  Fear hurries on my overmastered tongue

  Eteocles.

  One small request I have; beseech you hear me.

  Chorus.

  Speak: I am willing, if I can, to please thee

  Eteocles.

  Please me by silence; do not fright thy friends.

  Chorus.

  I speak no more: and wait my doom with them.

  Eteocles.

  • This word is wiser than a host of wails.
  • And now, instead of running to and fro,
  • Clinging to every image as you pass,
  • Pray to the gods with sober supplication,
  • To aid the Theban cause: and, when ye hear
  • My vow, lift up a blithe auspicious shout,
  • A sacred hymn, a sacrificial cry,
  • As brave Greek hearts are wont, whose voice shall speak
  • Sure confidence to friends, and to the foe
  • Dismay. Now, hear my vow. If they who keep
  • The city, keep it now from the Argive spear,
  • I vow to them, and to the patron gods
  • Of field and forum, and the holy fount
  • Of Dirce and Ismenus’ sacred stream,20
  • That blood of lambs and bulls shall wash their altars,
  • And spear-pierced trophies, Argive harnesses,
  • Bedeck their holy halls. Such be your prayers;
  • Not sighs and sobs, and frantic screams, that shake
  • The hearts of men, but not the will of gods.
  • Meanwhile, with six choice men, myself the seventh,
  • I’ll gallantly oppose these boastful chiefs
  • That block our outlets. Timely thus I’ll gag
  • The swift-winged rush of various-bruited news,
  • That in the hour of danger blazes fear.

  [Exit.

  • CHORAL HYMN.
    STROPHE I.
  • Well thou speakest; but unsleeping
  • Terrors shake my virgin frame,
  • And the blasts of war around me
  • Fan my fears into a flame.
  • As the dove her dovelets nursing,
  • Fears the tree-encircling serpent,
  • Fatal neighbour of her nest;
  • Thus the foe, our walls enclosing,
  • Thrills with ceaseless fears my breast.
  • Hark! in hurrying throngs careering
  • Rude they beat our Theban towers,
  • And a rain of rock-torn fragments
  • On the roofs of Cadmus showers!
  • Save us, gods that keep the city,
  • Save us, Jove-begotten Powers!
  • ANTISTROPHE I.
  • Say what region shall receive ye,
  • When the Theban soil is waste?
  • When pure Dirce’s fount is troubled,
  • From what waters shall ye taste?
  • Theban soil, the deepest, richest,
  • That with fruits of joy is pregnant,
  • Dirce, sweetest fount that runs,
  • From Poseidon earth-embracing,
  • And from Tethys’ winding sons.21
  • Patron-gods maintain your glory,
  • Sit in might enthroned to-day:
  • Smite the foe with fear; fear stricken
  • Let them fling their arms away:
  • Hear our sharp shrill-piercing wailings,
  • When for Cadmus’ weal we pray!
  • STROPHE II.
  • Sad it were, and food for weeping,
  • To behold these walls Ogygian,
  • By the stranger spearman mounted,
  • Levelled by the Argive foe,
  • And these towers by god-sent vengeance
  • Laid in crumbling ashes low.
  • Sad it were to see the daughters,
  • And the sonless mothers grey,
  • Of old Thebes, with hair dishevelled,
  • And rent vestments, even as horses
  • Dragged by the mane, a helpless prey;
  • Sad to hear the victors’ clamour
  • Mingling with the captive’s moan,
  • And the frequent-clanking fetter
  • Struggling with the dying groan.
  • ANTISTROPHE II.
  • Sad, most sad, should hands unlicensed
  • Rudely pluck our opening blossom;
  • Sad—yea better far to die!
  • Changing nuptial torch and chamber
  • For dark homes of slavery.
  • Ah! my soul within me trembles,
  • When it shapes the sight of shame,
  • Swift the chase of lawless murder,
  • And the swifter chase of flame;
  • Black the surly smoke upwreathing,
  • Cries, confusion, choking heat;
  • Shrine-polluting, man-subduing
  • Mars, wild borne from street to street!
  • STROPHE III.
  • Towers and catapults surrounding,
  • And the greedy spear upswallowing
  • Man by man, its gory food:
  • And the sucking infants clinging
  • To the breasts that cannot bear them,
  • Cries to ears that cannot hear them
  • Mingle with their mother’s blood.
  • Plunder, daughter of Confusion,
  • Startles Plenty from his lair,
  • And the robber with the robber
  • Bargains for an equal share;
  • Gods! in such a night of terrors
  • How shall helpless maidens fare?
  • ANTISTROPHE III.
  • Planless is the strife of Plunder.
  • Fruits of patient years are trampled
  • Reckless in the moment’s grave;
  • And the maids that tend the household,
  • With a bitter eye of weeping,
  • See the treasured store of summers
  • Hurried by the barren wave.
  • Woe, deep woe, waits captive maidens,
  • To an untried thraldom led,
  • Bound, by chains of forced affection,
  • To some haughty husband’s bed:
  • Sooner, sooner may I wander
  • Sister of the sunless dead!

  Semi-Chorus 1.

  • Methinks I see the scout sent by the king:
  • Doubtless he brings us news; his tripping feet
  • Come swift as wheels that turn on willing axles.

  Semi-Chorus 2.

  • The king himself, the son of Oedipus,
  • Comes in the exact nick to hear his tidings:
  • With rapid and unequal steps he too
  • Urges the way.

  EnterMessengerandEteoclesfrom opposite sides

  Mess.

  • What I have seen I come
  • To tell; the movements of the foe, the station
  • That lot hath given each champion at the gates.
  • First at the Prœtian portal Tydeus stands,22
  • Storming against the seer, who wise forbids
  • To pass Ismenus’ wave, before the sacrifice
  • Auspicious smiles. But he, for battle burning,
  • Fumes like a fretful snake in the sultry noon,
  • Lashing with gibes the wise Oiclidan seer,23
  • Whose prudence he interprets dastardy,
  • Cajoling death away. Thus fierce he raves,
  • And shakes the overshadowing crest sublime,
  • His helmet’s triple mane, while ’neath his shield
  • The brazen bells ring fear.24 On his shield’s face
  • A sign he bears as haughty as himself,
  • The welkin flaming with a thousand lights,
  • And in its centre the full moon shines forth,
  • Eye of the night, and regent of the stars.
  • So speaks his vaunting shield: on the stream’s bank
  • He stands, loud-roaring, eager for the fight,
  • As some fierce steed that frets against the bit,
  • And waits with ruffling neck, and ears erect,
  • To catch the trumpet’s blare. Who will oppose
  • This man? what champion, when the bolts are broken,
  • Shall plant his body in the Prœtian gate?

  Eteocles.

  • No blows I fear from the trim dress of war,
  • No wounds from blazoned terrors. Triple crests
  • And ringing bells bite not without the spear;
  • And for this braggart shield, with starry night
  • Studded, too soon for the fool’s wit that owns it
  • The scutcheon may prove seer. When death’s dark night
  • Shall settle on his eyes, and the blithe day
  • Beams joy on him no more, hath not the shield
  • Spoken significant, and pictured borne
  • A boast against its bearer? I, to match
  • This Tydeus, will set forth the son of Astacus,
  • A noble youth not rich in boasts, who bows
  • Before the sacred throne of Modesty,
  • In base things cowardly, in high virtue bold.
  • His race from those whom Ares spared he draws,25
  • Born from the sown field of the dragon’s teeth,
  • His name Melanippus. Mars shall throw the dice
  • Bravely for him, and Justice call him brother,
  • While girt he goes from his loved Theban mother
  • To ward the Argive spear.

  STROPHE I.

  Chorus.

  • May the gods protect our champion!
  • Be the cause of Right his shield!
  • But I fear to see the breathless
  • Bleeding bodies of true warriors
  • Strewn upon the battle field.

  Mess.

  • Speed well your pious prayers! The lot hath placed
  • Proud Capaneus before the Electran gate,26
  • A giant warrior mightier than the first,
  • And boasting more than mortal. His high threats
  • May never Chance* fulfil! for with the aid
  • Of gods, or in the gods’ despite, he vows
  • To sack the city, and sets the bolted wrath
  • Of Jove at nought, his lightnings and his thunders
  • Recking no more—so speaks the vauntful tongue—
  • Than vulgar noonday heat. His orbéd shield
  • The blazon of a naked man displays,
  • Shaking a flaring torch with lofty threat
  • In golden letters—i will burn the city.
  • Such is the man: who shall not quail before
  • A pride that flings defiance to the gods?

  Eteocles.

  • Here, too, we meet the strong with something stronger.
  • When men are proud beyond the mark of right,
  • They do proclaim with forward tongue their folly,
  • Themselves their own accuser. This brave Capaneus
  • With empty threats and wordy exercise,
  • Fights mortal ’gainst immortals, and upcasts
  • Loud billowy boasts in Jove’s high face But I
  • In Jove have faith that he will smite this boaster
  • With flaming bolts, to vulgar heat of noon
  • In no wise like. The gallant Polyphontus,
  • A man of glowing heart, against this blusterer
  • I’ll send, himself a garrison to pledge
  • Our safety, by the grace of Artemis,
  • And the protecting gods. Name now the others.

  ANTISTROPHE I.

  Chorus.

  • Perish, with his boasts, the boaster,
  • By strong thunder prostrate laid!
  • Never, never may I see him
  • Into holy homes of virgins
  • Rushing, with his godless blade!

  Mess.

  • Hear more. The third lot to Eteocles
  • Leapt from the upturned brazen helm,27 and fixed him
  • At the Netaean gate.28 His eager steeds,
  • Their frontlets tossed in the breeze, their swelling nostrils
  • High-snorting with the impatient blast of war,
  • Their bridles flapping with barbaric clang,
  • He curbs, and furious ’gainst the city wheels them,
  • Even as a whirling storm. His breadth of shield,
  • Superbly rounded, shows an armed man
  • Scaling a city, with this proud device,
  • Not Mars himself shall hurl me from these towers.
  • Choose thou a champion worthy to oppose
  • This haughty chief, and pledge his country’s weal.

  Eteocles.

  • Fear not: with happy omen, I will send,
  • Have sent already, one to meet this foe,
  • Whose boasts are deeds, brave Megareus, a son
  • Of the dragon’s race, a warrior recking nothing
  • The snortings of impatient steeds. This man
  • Will, with his heart’s blood, pay the nursing fee
  • Due to his Theban mother,* or come back—
  • Which grant the gods!—bearing on that proud shield
  • Rich spoil to garnish forth his father’s halls,
  • The painted champion, and the painted city,
  • And him that living bore the false-faced sign.
  • Now name the fourth, and spare me not your boasts.

  STROPHE II.

  Chorus.

  • May the gods protect my champion!
  • Ruin seize the ruthless foe!
  • As they boast to raze the city,
  • So may Jove with wrathful vengeance
  • Lay their frenzied babblings low!

  Mess.

  • The fourth’s Hippomedon Before the gate
  • He stands of Onca Pallas, clamouring on
  • With lordly port. His shield’s huge round he waved,
  • (Fearful to view), a halo not a shield
  • No vulgar cunning did his hand possess
  • Who carved the dread device upon its face,
  • Typhon, forth-belching, from fire-breathing mouth,
  • Black smoke, the volumed sister of the flame,29
  • And round its hollow belly was embossed30
  • A ring of knotted snakes. Himself did rage,
  • Shouting for battle, by the god of war
  • Indwelt,31 and, like a Maenad, his dark eyes
  • Look fear. Against this man be doubly armed,
  • For, where he is, grim Fear is with him.

  Eteocles.

  • Onca
  • Herself will guard the gate that bears her name,
  • From her own ramparts hurl the proud assailer,
  • And shield her nurslings from this crested snake.
  • Hyperbius, the right valiant son of Oenops,
  • Shall stand against this foe, casting his life
  • Into the chance of war; in lordly port,
  • In courage, in all the accoutrements of fight
  • Hippomedon’s counterpart—a hostile pair
  • Well matched by Hermes.32 But no equal match
  • Their shields display—two hostile gods—the one
  • Fire-breathing Typhon, father Jove the other,
  • Erect, firm-planted, in his flaming hand
  • Grasping red thunder, an unvanquished god.
  • Such are the gods beneath whose wing they fight,
  • For us the strong, for them the weaker power.
  • And as the gods are, so the men shall be
  • That on their aid depend. If Jove hath worsted
  • This Typhon in the fight, we too shall worst
  • Our adverse. Shall the king of gods not save
  • The man whose shield doth bear the Saviour Jove.

  ANTISTROPHE II.

  Chorus.

  • Earth-born Typhon, hateful monster,
  • Sight that men and gods appals,
  • Whoso bears in godless blazon
  • Great Jove’s foe, shall Jove almighty
  • Dash his head against the walls.

  Mess.

  • So grant the gods! The fifth proud foe is stationed
  • Before the Borean gate, hard by the tomb
  • Of the Jove-born Amphion. By his spear
  • He swears, his spear more dear to him than gods,
  • Or light of day, that he will sack the city
  • In Jove’s despite: thus speaks half-man, half-boy.
  • The fair-faced scion of a mountain mother.
  • The manly down, luxuriant, bushy, sprouts
  • Full from his blooming cheek no virgin he
  • In aspect, though most virgin-like his name.*
  • Keen are his looks, and fierce his soul; he too
  • Comes not without a boast against the gates;
  • For on his shield, stout forgery of brass,
  • A broad circumference of sure defence,
  • He shows, in mockery of Cadméan Thebes,
  • The terrible Sphynx, in gory food delighting,
  • Hugely embossed, with terror brightly studded,
  • And in her mortal paw the monster rends
  • A Theban man: for which reproachful sign
  • Thick-showered the bearer bears the keenest darts,—
  • Parthenopæus, bold Arcadian chief.
  • No man seems he to shame the leagues he travelled
  • By petty war’s detail. Not born an Argive,
  • In Argos nursed, he now her love repays,
  • By fighting ’gainst her foes. His threats—the god
  • Grant they be only threats!

  Eteocles.

  • Did they receive
  • What punishment their impious vaunts deserve,
  • Ruin with one wide swoop should swamp them all.
  • This braggart stripling, fresh from Arcady,
  • The brother of Hyperbius shall confront,
  • Actor, a man whose hand pursues its deed,
  • Not brandishing vain boasts No enemy,
  • Whose strength is in his tongue, shall sap these walls,
  • While Actor has a spear: nor shall the man
  • Who bears the hated portent on his shield
  • Enter our gate, but rather the grim sign
  • Frown on its bearer, when thick-rattling hail
  • Showered from our walls shall dint it. If the gods
  • Are just, the words I speak are prophecy.

  STROPHE III.

  Chorus.

  • The eager cry doth rend my breast,
  • And on end stands every hair,
  • When I hear the godless vaunting
  • Of unholy men! May Até
  • Fang them in her hopeless snare!

  Mess.

  • The sixth a sober man, a seer of might,
  • Before the Homoloidian gate stands forth,33
  • And speaks harsh words against the might of Tydeus
  • Rating him murderer, teacher of all ill
  • To Argos, troubler of the city’s peace,
  • The Furies’ herald, crimson slaughter’s minion,
  • And councillor of folly to Adrastus.
  • Thy brother too, the might of Polynices,
  • He whips with keen reproaches, and upcasts
  • With bitter taunts his evil-omened name,
  • Making it spell his ugly sin that owns it.34
  • O fair and pious deed, even thus he cries,
  • To blot thy native soil with war, and lead
  • A foreign host against thy country’s gods!
  • Soothly a worthy deed, a pleasant tale
  • For future years to tell! Most specious right,
  • To stop the sacred fountain up whence sprung
  • Thy traitor life! How canst thou hope to live
  • A ruler well acknowledged in the land,
  • That thou hast wounded with invading spear?
  • Myself this foreign soil, on which I tread,
  • Shall feed with prophet’s blood. I hope to die,
  • Since die I must, an undishonoured death.
  • Thus spake the seer, and waved his full-orb’d shield
  • Of solid brass, but plain, without device.
  • Of substance studious, careless of the show,
  • The wise man is what fools but seem to be,35
  • Reaping rich harvest from the mellow soil
  • Of quiet thought, the mother of great deeds
  • Choose thou a wise and virtuous man to meet
  • The wise and virtuous. Whoso fears the gods
  • Is fearful to oppose.

  Eteocles.

  • Alas! the fate
  • That mingles up the godless and the just
  • In one companionship! wise was the man
  • Who taught that evil converse is the worst
  • Of evils, that death’s unblest fruit is reaped
  • By him who sows in Até’s fields.* The man
  • Who, being godly, with ungodly men
  • And hot-brained sailors mounts the brittle bark,
  • He, when the god-detested crew goes down,
  • Shall with the guilty guiltless perish. When
  • One righteous man is common citizen
  • With godless and unhospitable men,
  • One god-sent scourge must smite the whole, one net
  • Snare bad and good. Even so, Oicleus’ son,
  • This sober, just, and good, and pious man,
  • This mighty prophet and soothsayer, he,
  • Leagued with the cause of bad and bold-mouthed men
  • In his own despite—so Jove hath willed—shall lead
  • Down to the distant city of the dead
  • The murky march with them. He will not even
  • Approach the walls, so I may justly judge.
  • No dastard soul is his, no wavering will;
  • But well he knows, if Loxias’ words bear fruit,
  • (And, when he speaks not true, the god is dumb)
  • Amphiaraus dies by Theban spear.
  • Yet to oppose this man I will dispatch
  • The valiant Lasthenes, a Theban true,
  • Who wastes no love on strangers; swift his eye,
  • Nor slow his hand to make the eager spear
  • Leap from behind the shield. The gods be with him!

  ANTISTROPHE III.

  Chorus.

  • May the gods our just entreaties
  • For the cause of Cadmus hear!
  • Jove! when the sharp spear approaches,
  • Sit enthroned upon our rampires,
  • Darting bolts, and darting fear!

  Mess.

  • Against the seventh gate the seventh chief
  • Leads on the foe, thy brother Polynices;
  • And fearful vows he makes, and fearful doom
  • His prayers invoke. Mounted upon our walls,
  • By herald’s voice Thebes’ rightful prince proclaimed,
  • Shouting loud hymns of capture, hand to hand
  • He vows to encounter thee, and either die
  • Himself in killing thee, or should he live
  • And spare thy recreant life, he will repay
  • Like deed with like, and thou in turn shalt know
  • Dishonouring exile. Thus he speaks and prays
  • The family gods, and all the gods of Thebes,
  • To aid his traitor suit. Upon his shield,
  • New-forged, and nicely fitted to the hand,
  • He bears this double blazonry—a woman
  • Leading with sober pace an armed man
  • All bossed in gold, and thus the superscription,
  • “I, Justice, bring this injured exile back,
  • To claim his portion in his father’s hall.”
  • Such are the strange inventions of the foe.
  • Choose thou a man that’s fit to meet thy brother;
  • Nor blame thy servant: what he saw he says:
  • To helm the state through such rude storm be thine!

  Eteocles.

  • O god-detested! god-bemadded race!36
  • Woe-worthy sons of woe-worn Oedipus!
  • Your father’s curse is ripe! but tears are vain,
  • And weeping might but mother worser woe.
  • O Polynices! thy prophetic name
  • Speaks more than all the emblems of thy shield;
  • Soon shall we see if gold-bossed words can save thee,
  • Babbling vain madness in a proud device.
  • If Jove-born Justice, maid divine, might be
  • Of thoughts and deeds like thine participant,
  • Thou mightst have hope; but, Polynices, never,
  • Or when the darkness of the mother’s womb
  • Thou first didst leave, or in thy nursling prime,
  • Or in thy bloom of youth, or in the gathering
  • Of beard on manhood’s chin, hath Justice owned thee,
  • Or known thy name; and shall she know thee now
  • Thou leadst a stranger host against thy country?
  • Her nature were a mockery of her name
  • If she could fight for knaves, and still be Justice.
  • In this faith strong, this traitor I will meet
  • Myself: the cause is mine, and I will fight it.
  • For equal prince to prince, to brother brother,
  • Fell foe to foe, suits well. And now to arms!
  • Bring me my spear and shield, hauberk and greaves!

  [ExitMessenger.

  Chorus.

  • Dear son of Oedipus! let not thy wrath
  • Wax hot as his whom thou dost chiefly chide!
  • Let the Cadméans with the Argives fight;
  • This is enough: their blood may be atoned.
  • But, when a brother falls by brother’s hands,
  • Age may not mellow such dark due of guilt.

  Eteocles.

  • If thou canst bear an ill, and fear no shame,
  • Bear it: but if to bear is to be base,
  • Choose death, thy only refuge from disgrace.

  STROPHE IV.

  Chorus.

  • Whither wouldst thou? calm thy bosom,
  • Tame the madness of thy blood;
  • Ere it bear a crimson blossom,
  • Pluck thy passion in the bud.

  Eteocles.

  • Fate urges on; the god will have it so.37
  • Now drift the race of Laius, with full sail,
  • Abhorred by Phœbus, down Cocytus’ stream!

  ANTISTROPHE IV.

  Chorus.

  • Let not ravening rage consume thee!
  • Bitter fruit thy wrath will bear;
  • Sate thy hunger with the thousands,
  • But of brother’s blood beware!

  Eteocles.

  • The Curse must work its will: and thus it speaks,
  • Watching beside me with dry tearless eyes,
  • Death is thy only gain, and death to-day
  • Is better than to-morrow!38

  STROPHE V.

  Chorus.

  • Save thy life: the wise will praise thee;
  • To the gods with incense come,
  • And the storm-clad black Erinnys
  • Passes by thy holy home.

  Eteocles.

  • The gods will reck the curse, but not the prayers
  • Of Laius’ race. Our doom is their delight.
  • ’Tis now too late to fawn the Fate away.

  ANTISTROPHE V.

  Chorus.

  • Nay! but yet thou mayst: the god,
  • That long hath raged, and burneth now,
  • With a gentler sway soft-wafted,
  • Soon may fan thy fevered brow.

  Eteocles.

  • The Curse must sway, my father’s burning curse.
  • The visions of the night were true, that showed me
  • His heritage twin-portioned by the sword.

  Chorus.

  We are but women: yet we pray thee hear us.

  Eteocles.

  Speak things that may be, and I’ll hear. Be brief.

  Chorus.

  Fight not before the seventh gate, we pray thee.

  Eteocles.

  My whetted will thy words may never blunt.

  Chorus.

  Why rush on danger? Victory’s sure without thee.

  Eteocles.

  So speak to slaves; a soldier may not hear thee.

  Chorus.

  But brother’s blood—pluck not the bloody blossom.

  Eteocles.

  If gods are just, he shall not ’scape from harm.

  [Exit.

  • CHORAL HYMN.
    STROPHE I.
  • I fear the house-destroying power; I fear
  • The goddess most ungodlike,39
  • The all-truth-speaking seer
  • Of evil things, whose sleepless wrath doth nurse
  • Fulfilment of the frenzied father’s curse.
  • The time doth darkly lower;
  • This strife of brother’s blood with brother’s blood
  • Spurs the dread hour.
  • ANTISTROPHE I.
  • O son of Scythia, must we ask thine aid?
  • Chalybian stranger thine,40
  • Here with the keen unsparing blade
  • To part our fair possessions? thou dost deal
  • A bitter lot, O savage-minded steel!
  • Much loss is all the gain,
  • When mighty lords with their stark corpses measure
  • Their whole domain.
  • STROPHE II.
  • When the slain shall slay the slayer,
  • And kindred blood with blood
  • Shall mingle, when the thirsty Theban soil
  • Drinks eager the black-clotting sanguine flood,
  • Who then shall purge the murderous stain,
  • Who wash it clean again?
  • When ancient guilt and new shall burst,
  • In one dire flood of woe?
  • ANTISTROPHE II.
  • With urgent pace the Fury treadeth,
  • To generations three
  • Avenging Laius’ sin on Laius’ race;
  • What time he sinned against the gods’ decree,
  • When Phœbus from Earth’s central shrine*
  • Thrice sent the word divine—
  • Live childless, Laius, for thy seed
  • Shall work thy country’s woe.
  • STROPHE III.
  • But he to foolish words gave ear,
  • And ruin to himself begot,
  • The parricidal Oedipus, who joined
  • A frenzied bond in most unholy kind,
  • Sowing where he was sown; whence sprung a bud
  • Of bitterness and blood.
  • ANTISTROPHE III.
  • The city tosses to and fro,
  • Like a drifted ship; wave after wave,
  • Now high, now low, with triple-crested flow
  • Now reared sublime, brays round the plunging prow
  • These walls are but a plank: if the kings fall
  • ’Tis ruin to us all.
  • STROPHE IV.
  • The ancestral curse, the hoary doom is ripe.
  • Who now shall smooth such hate?
  • What hand shall stay, when it hath willed to strike,
  • The uplifted arm of Fate?
  • When the ship creaks beneath the straining gale,
  • The wealthy merchant† flings the well-stowed bale
  • Into the gulf below.‡
  • ANTISTROPHE IV.
  • When the enigma of the baleful Sphynx
  • By Oedipus was read,
  • And the man-rending monster on a stone
  • Despairful dashed her head;
  • What mortal man by herd-possessing men,
  • What god by gods above was honoured then,
  • Like Oedipus below!
  • STROPHE V.
  • But when his soul was conscious, and he saw
  • The monstrous wedlock made ’gainst Nature’s law,
  • Him struck dismay,
  • In wild deray,
  • He from their socket roots uptore
  • His eyes, more dear than children, worthy no more
  • To look upon the day.
  • ANTISTROPHE V.
  • And he, for sorry tendance wrathful,41 flung
  • Curses against his sons with bitter tongue,
  • “They shall dispute
  • A dire dispute,
  • And share their land with steel.” I fear
  • The threatened harm; with boding heart I hear
  • The Fury’s sleepless foot.

  Re-enterMessenger.

  Mess.

  • Fear not, fair maids of Theban mothers nursed!
  • The city hath ’scaped the yoke; the insolent boasts
  • Of violent men hath fallen; the ship o’ the state
  • Is safe, in sunshine calm we float; in vain
  • Hath wave on wave lashed our sure-jointed beams,
  • No leaky gap our close-lipped timbers knew,
  • Our champions with safety hedged us round,
  • Our towers stand firm. Six of the seven gates
  • Show all things prosperous, the seventh Phœbus
  • Chose for his own (for still in four and three
  • The god delights),42 he led the seventh pair,
  • Crowning the doom of evil-counselled Laius.

  Chorus.

  What sayst thou? What new ills to ancient Thebes?

  Mess.

  Two men are dead—by mutual slaughter slain.

  Chorus.

  Who?—what?—my wit doth crack with apprehension.

  Mess

  Hear soberly: the sons of Oedipus—

  Chorus.

  O wretched me! true prophet of true woe.

  Mess.

  Too true. They lie stretched in the dust.

  Chorus.

  • Sayst so?
  • Sad tale! yet must I school mine ears to hear it.

  Mess.

  Brother by brother’s hand untimely slain.

  Chorus.

  The impartial god smote equally the twain.

  Mess.

  • A wrathful god the luckless race destroys,
  • And I for plaints no less than pæans bring thee43
  • Plentiful food. The state now stands secure,
  • But the twin rulers, with hard-hammered steel,
  • Have sharply portioned all their heritage,
  • By the dire curse to sheer destruction hurried
  • What land they sought they find it in the grave,
  • The hostile kings in one red woe are brothered;
  • The soil that called them lord hath drunk their blood.

  [Exit.

  Chorus.

  • O Jove almighty! gods of Cadmus,
  • By whose keeping Thebes is strong,
  • Shall I sing a joyful pæan,
  • Thee the god full-throated hymning
  • That saved the state from instant harm?
  • Or shall drops of swelling pity
  • To a wail invert my ditty?
  • O wretched, hapless, childless princes!
  • Truly, truly was his name
  • Prophet of your mutual shame!*
  • Godless was the strife ye cherished,
  • And in godless strife ye perished!
  • CHORAL HYMN.
    STROPHE I.
  • The curse that rides on sable wing,
  • Hath done its part,
  • And horror, like a creeping thing,
  • Freezes my heart.
  • Their ghastly death in kindred blood
  • Doth pierce me thorough,
  • And deeply stirs the Thyad flood†
  • Of wail and sorrow.
  • An evil bird on boding wing
  • Did darkly sway,
  • When steel on steel did sternly ring
  • In strife to-day.
  • ANTISTROPHE I.
  • The voice that from the blind old king
  • With cursing came,
  • In rank fulfilment forth doth bring
  • Its fruit of shame.
  • O Laius, thou didst work our woe
  • With faithless heart;
  • Nor Phœbus with a half-dealt blow
  • Will now depart.
  • His word is sure, or pacing slow,
  • Or winged with speed,
  • And now the burthened cloud of woe,
  • Bursts black indeed.

  [The bodies ofEteoclesandPolynicesare brought on the stage.

  • EPODE.
  • • Lo! where it comes the murky pomp,
    • No wandering voice, but clear, too clear
    • The visible body of our fear!
    • Twin-faced sorrow, twin-faced slaughter,
    • And twin-fated woe is here.
    • Ills on ills of monstrous birth
    • Rush on Laius’ god-doom’d-hearth.
  • • Sisters raise the shrill lament,
    • Let your lifted arms be oars!
    • Let your sighs be breezes lent,
    • Down the wailing stream to float
    • The black-sail’d Stygian boat;
    • Down to the home which all receiveth,
    • Down to the land which no man leaveth,
    • By Apollo’s foot untrodden,
    • Sullen, silent, sunless shores!
  • • But I see the fair Ismene,
    • And Antigone the fair,
    • Moving to this place of mourning,
    • Slow, a sorrow-guided pair.
    • We shall see a sight for weeping
    • (They obey a doleful hest)
    • Lovely maids deep-bosomed pouring
    • Wails from heavy-laden breast.
    • Chaunts of sorrow, dismal prelude
    • Of their grief, to us belong:
    • Let us hymn the dread Erinnys!
    • To the gloomy might of Hades,
    • Let us lift the sombre song.

  EnterAntigoneandIsmenein sorrowful silence.

  • Hapless sisters! maids more hapless
  • Ne’er were girded with a zone:
  • I weep, and wail, and mine, believe me,
  • Is a heart’s sigh, no hireling moan*

  [Here commences the Funeral Wail over the dead bodies ofEteoclesandPolyniceswith mournful music.

  STROPHE I.

  Semi-Chorus 1.

  • Alas! alas! the hapless pair.
  • To friendly voice and warning Fate
  • They stopped the ear: and now too late
  • Dear bought with blood their father’s wealth
  • In death they share.

  Semi-Chorus 2.

  • Outstretched in death, and prostrate low
  • Them and their house the iron Woe
  • Hath sternly crushed.

  ANTISTROPHE I.

  Semi-Chorus 1.

  • Alas! alas! the old thrones reel,
  • The lofty palace topples down;
  • And Death hath won a bloody crown,
  • And thou sure end of strife hast made,
  • O keen cold steel!

  Semi-Chorus 2.

  • And, with fulfilment on her wing,
  • Curse-laden from the blind old king
  • The Fury rushed.

  STROPHE II.

  Semi-Chorus 1.

  • Pierced through the left, with gaping gashes
  • Gory they lie.

  Semi-Chorus 2.

  • All gashed and gored, by fratricidal
  • Wounds they die.

  Semi-Chorus 1.

  • * * * *
  • * * *

  Semi-Chorus 2.

  • A god, a god doth rule the hour,
  • Slaughter meets slaughter, and the curse
  • Doth reign with power.

  Semi-Chorus 1.

  • See where the steel clean through hath cut
  • Their bleeding life,
  • Even to the marrow deep hath pierced
  • The ruthless knife.

  Semi-Chorus 2.

  • Deep in their silent hearts they cherished
  • The fateful curse,
  • And, with fell purpose sternly hating,
  • Defied remorse.

  ANTISTROPHE II.

  Semi-Chorus 1.

  • From street to street shrill speeds the cry
  • Of wail and woe.

  Semi-Chorus 2.

  • And towers and peopled plains reply
  • With wail and woe.

  Semi-Chorus 1.

  • And all their wealth a stranger heir
  • Shall rightly share.

  Semi-Chorus 2.

  • The wealth that waked the deadly strife,
  • The strife that raged till rage and strife
  • Ceased with their life.

  Semi-Chorus 1.

  • With whetted heart, and whetted glaive,
  • They shared the lot;
  • Victor and vanquished each in the grave
  • Six feet hath got.

  Semi-Chorus 2.

  • A harsh allotment! who shall praise it,
  • Friend or foe?
  • Harsh strife in pride begun, and ending
  • In wail and woe.

  STROPHE III.

  Semi-Chorus 1.

  • Sword-stricken here they lie, they lie
  • A breathless pair.

  Semi-Chorus 2.

  • Sword-stricken here they find, they find
  • What home, and where?

  Semi-Chorus 1.

  • A lonely home, a home of gloom
  • In their fathers’ tomb.

  Semi-Chorus 2.

  • And wailing follows from the halls
  • The dismal bier;
  • Wailing and woe the heart-strings breaking,
  • And sorrow from its own self taking
  • The food it feeds on, moody sadness,
  • Shunning all sights and sounds of gladness,
  • And from the eye spontaneous bringing
  • No practised tear;
  • My heart within me wastes, beholding
  • This dismal bier.

  ANTISTROPHE III.

  Semi-Chorus 1.

  • And on the bier we drop the tear
  • And justly say,

  Semi-Chorus 2.

  • To friend and foe, they purchased woe
  • And wail to-day.

  Semi-Chorus 1.

  • And to Hades showed full many the road
  • In the deadly fray.

  Semi-Chorus 2.

  • O ill-starred she!—there hath not been
  • Nor will be more,
  • Of sore-tried women children-bearing,
  • One like her, like sorrow sharing.
  • With her own body’s fruit she joined
  • Wedlock in most unholy kind,
  • And to her son, twin sons the mother,
  • O monstrous! bore:
  • And here they lie, by brother brother
  • Now drenched in gore.

  STROPHE IV.

  Semi-Chorus 1.

  • Ay, drenched in gore, in brothered gore,44
  • Weltering they lie;
  • Mad was the strife, and sharp the knife
  • That bade them die.

  Semi-Chorus 2.

  • The strife hath ceased: life’s purple flood
  • The dry Earth drinks;
  • And kinsman’s now to kinsman’s blood
  • Keen slaughter links.
  • The far sea stranger forged i’ the fire
  • The pointed iron soothed their ire.
  • A bitter soother! Mars hath made
  • A keen division
  • Of all their lands, and lent swift wing
  • To the curse that came from the blind old king
  • With harsh completion.

  ANTISTROPHE IV.

  Semi-Chorus 1.

  • They strove for land, and did demand
  • An equal share;
  • In the ground deep, deep, where now they sleep,
  • There’s land to spare.

  Semi-Chorus 2.

  • A goodly crop to you hath grown
  • Of woe and wailing;
  • Ye reaped the seed by Laius sown,
  • The god prevailing.
  • Shrill yelled the curse, a deathful shout,
  • And scattered sheer in hopeless rout
  • The kingly race did fall; and lo!
  • Fell Até planteth
  • Her trophy at the gate; and there
  • Triumphant o’er the princely pair
  • Her banner flaunteth.

  [AntigoneandIsmenenow come forward, and standing beside the dead bodies, pointing now to the one, and now to the other, finish the Wail as chief mourners.

  PRELUDE.

  Antig.

  Wounded, thou didst wound again.

  Ismene.

  Thou didst slay, and yet wert slain.

  Antig.

  Thou didst pierce him with the spear.

  Ismene.

  Deadly-pierced thou liest here.

  Antig.

  Sons of sorrow!

  Ismene.

  Sons of pain!

  Antig.

  Break out grief!

  Ismene.

  Flow tears amain!

  Antig.

  Weep the slayer.

  Ismene.

  And the slain.

  STROPHE.

  Antig.

  Ah! my soul is mad with moaning.

  Ismene.

  And my heart within is groaning.

  Antig.

  O thrice-wretched, wretched brother!

  Ismene.

  Thou more wretched than the other!

  Antig.

  Thine own kindred pierced thee thorough.

  Ismene.

  And thy kin was pierced by thee.

  Antig.

  Sight of sadness!

  Ismene.

  Tale of sorrow!

  Antig.

  Deadly to say!

  Ismene.

  Deadly to see!

  Antig.

  We with you the sorrow bear.

  Ismene.

  And twin woes twin sisters share.

  Chorus.

  Alas! alas!

  • Moera, baneful gifts dispensing45
  • To the toilsome race of mortals,
  • Now prevails thy murky hour:
  • Shade of Oedipus thrice sacred,
  • Night-clad Fury, dread Erinnys,
  • Mighty, mighty is thy power!

  ANTISTROPHE.

  Antig.

  Food to feed the eyes with mourning,

  Ismene.

  Exile sad, more sad returning!

  Antig.

  Slain wert thou, when thou hadst slain

  Ismene.

  Found wert thou and lost again

  Antig.

  Lost, in sooth, beyond reprieving.

  Ismene.

  Life-bereft and life-bereaving.

  Antig.

  Race of Laius, woe is thee!

  Ismene.

  Woe, and wail, and misery!

  Antig.

  Woe, woe, thy fatal name!

  Ismene.

  Prophet of our triple shame.

  Antig.

  Deadly to say!

  Ismene.

  Deadly to see!

  Chorus.

  Alas! alas!

  • Moera, baneful gifts dispensing
  • To the toilsome race of mortals,
  • Now prevails thy murky hour;
  • Shade of Oedipus thrice sacred,
  • Night-clad Fury, dread Erinnys,
  • Mighty, mighty is thy power.

  EPODE.

  Antig.

  Thou hast marched a distant road.

  Ismene.

  Thou hast gone to the dark abode.

  Antig.

  Cruel welcome met thee here.

  Ismene.

  Falling by thy brother’s spear.

  Antig.

  Deadly to say!

  Ismene.

  Deadly to see!

  Antig.

  Woe and wailing.

  Ismene.

  Wail and woe!

  Antig.

  To my home and to my country.

  Ismene.

  And to me much wail and woe.

  Antig.

  Chief woe to me!

  Ismene.

  Weeping and woe!

  Antig.

  Alas! Eteocles, laid thus low!

  Ismene.

  O thrice woe-worthy pair!

  Antig.

  A god, a god, hath dealt the blow!

  Ismene.

  Where shall they find their clay-cold lair?

  Antig.

  An honoured place their bones shall keep.

  Ismene.

  With their fathers they shall sleep.

  EnterHerald.

  Herald.

  • Hear ye my words—my herald’s voice declaring
  • What seemed and seems good to the Theban senate
  • Eteocles, his country’s friend, shall find
  • Due burial in its friendly bosom.46 He
  • Is free from sin against the gods of Cadmus,
  • And died, the champion of his country’s cause,
  • As generous youths should die. Severer doom
  • Falls on his brother Polynices. He
  • Shall lie in the breeze unburied, food for dogs,
  • Most fit bestowal of a traitor’s corpse;
  • For, had some god not stept between to save us,
  • And turned the spear aside, Cadméan Thebes
  • Had stood no more. His country’s gods demand
  • Such stern atonement of the impious will
  • That led a hireling host against their shrines.
  • On him shall vultures banquet, ravening birds
  • His flesh shall tear; no pious hand shall pile
  • The fresh green mound, no wailing notes for him
  • Be lifted shrill, no tearful friends attend
  • His funeral march. Thus they who rule in Thebes
  • Have strictly ordered.

  Antig.

  • Go thou back, and give
  • This message to the rulers.—If none other
  • Will grant the just interment to my brother
  • Myself will bury him. The risk I reck not,
  • Nor blush to call rebellion’s self a virtue,
  • Where I rebel, being kind to my own kin.
  • Our common source of life, a mother doomed
  • To matchless woes, nor less the father doomed,
  • Demand no vulgar reverence. I will share
  • Reproach with the reproached, and with my kin
  • Know kindred grief, the living with the dead.
  • For his dear flesh, no hollow-stomach’d wolves
  • Shall tear it—no! myself, though I’m but woman,
  • Will make his tomb, and do the sacred office.
  • Even in this bosom’s linen folds, I’ll bear
  • Enough of earth to cover him withal
  • This thing I’ll do I will. For bold resolves
  • Still find bold hands; the purpose makes the plan.47

  Herald.

  When Thebes commands, ’tis duty to obey.

  Antig.

  When ears are deaf, ’tis wisdom to be dumb.

  Herald

  Fierce is a people with young victory flushed.

  Antig.

  Fierce let them be; he shall not go unburied.

  Herald.

  What? wilt thou honour whom the city hates?

  Antig.

  And did the gods not honour whom I honour?

  Herald.

  Once: ere he led the spear against his country.

  Antig.

  Evil entreatment he repaid with evil.

  Herald.

  Should thousands suffer for the fault of one?

  Antig

  • Strife is the last of gods to end her tale;
  • My brother I will bury. Make no more talk.

  Herald.

  Be wilful, if thou wilt. I counsel wisdom.

  Chorus.

  • Mighty Furies that triumphant
  • Ride on ruin’s baleful wings,
  • Crushed ye have and clean uprooted
  • This great race of Theban kings.
  • Who shall help me? Who shall give me,
  • Sure advice, and counsel clear?
  • Shall mine eyes freeze up their weeping?
  • Shall my feet refuse to follow
  • Thy loved remnant? but I fear
  • Much the rulers, and their mandate
  • Sternly sanctioned. Shall it be?
  • Him shall many mourners follow?
  • Thee, rejected by thy country,
  • Thee no voice of wailing nears,
  • All thy funeral march a sister
  • Weeping solitary tears?

  [TheChorusnow divides itself into two parts, of which one attaches itself toAntigoneand the corpse ofPolynices;the other toIsmeneand the corpse ofEteocles.

  Semi-Chorus.

  • Let them threaten, or not threaten,
  • We will drop the friendly tear,
  • With the pious-minded sister,
  • We will tend the brother’s bier.
  • And though public law forbids
  • These tears, free-shed for public sorrow,
  • Laws oft will change, and in one state
  • What’s right to-day is wrong to morrow.

  Semi-Chorus.

  • For us we’ll follow, where the city
  • And the law of Cadmus leads us,
  • To the funeral of the brave.
  • By the aid of Jove Supernal,
  • And the gods that keep the city,
  • Mighty hath he been to save;
  • He hath smote the proud invader,
  • He hath rolled the ruin backward
  • Of the whelming Argive wave.

  NOTES TO THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES

  THE PERSIANS
  
  A HISTORICAL CANTATA

  • “Why should calamity be full of words?
  • Windy attorneys to their client woes,
  • Airy succeeders of intestate joys,
  • Poor breathing orators of miseries!
  • Let them have scope; though what they do in part
  • Help nothing else, yet they do ease the heart.”

  • Shakespere.

  • Ὥ θείη Σαλαμὶς . ἀπολεɩ̂ς δὲ σὺ τέκνα γυναικωˆν.

  • Delphic Oracle

  PERSONS

  Chorus of Persian Elders.

  Atossa, Mother of Xerxes.

  Messenger.

  Shade of Darius, Father of Xerxes.

  Xerxes, King of Persia.

  Scene—Before the Palace at Susa. Tomb of Darius in the background.

  INTRODUCTORY REMARKS

  Of the battle of Salamis and the expedition of Xerxes, as an historical event, it must be unnecessary for me to say a single word here, entitled, as I am, to presume that no reader of the plays of Æschylus can be ignorant of the main facts, and the tremendous moral significance of that event. I shall only mention, for the sake of those whose memory is not well exercised in chronology, that it took place in the autumn of the year 480 before Christ, ten years after the battle of Marathon, thirty years after the expulsion of the Tarquins from Rome, and eighty years after the foundation of the great Persian empire by Cyrus the great. Those who wish to read the descriptions of the poet with complete interest and satisfaction should peruse the 38th, 39th, 40th, and 41st chapters (Vol. V.), of Mr. Grote’s great work, and, if possible, also, the 7th and 8th books of Herodotus.†

  On the poetical merit of the Persians, as a work of art, a great authority, Schlegel, has pronounced that it is “undoubtedly the most imperfect of all the extant tragedies of this poet;” but, unless the historical theme be the stumbling-block, I really cannot see on what ground this judgment proceeds. As for the descriptive parts, the battle of Salamis, and the retreat of the routed monarch, are pictured with a vividness and a power to which nothing in this massive and manly author is superior; the interest to the reader being increased tenfold by the fact, that he is here dealing with a real event of the most important character, and recited by one of the best qualified of eye-witnesses. The moral of the piece, as already stated, is, in every respect, what in a great drama or epos could be desired; and, with respect to the lyrics, the Anapæstic march, and the choral chaunt in Ionic measure, with which it opens, has about it a breadth, a magnificence, and a solemnity surpassed only in the choral hymns of the Agamemnon. Not less effective, to an ancient audience, I am sure, must have been the grand antiphonal chaunt with which (as in The Seven against Thebes) the variously repeated wail of this tragedy is brought to a climax; and if the Bishop of London, and some other scholars, have thought this sad exhibition of national lamentation ridiculous, we ought to believe that these critics have forgot the difference between a modern reader and an ancient spectator, rather than that so great a master as Æschylus did not know how to distinguish between a tragedy and a farce

  In common with other historical poems, the Persians of Æschylus is not altogether free from the fault of bringing our imaginative faculty into collision with our understanding, by a partial suppression or exaggeration of historical truth. In the way of suppression, the most noticable thing is, that the slave of Themistocles, who is described as having, by a false report to Xerxes, brought on the battle of Salamis, appears, according to the poet, to have cheated the Persians only; whereas, according to the real story, he cheated his countrymen also, and forced them to fight in that place against the will of the non-Athenian members of the confederation. In the way of exaggeration, again, Grote, in an able note,* has shown what appear to me valid reasons for disbelieving the fact of the freezing of the Strymon, and its sudden thaw, described so piteously by our poet; while the very nature of the case plainly shows that the whole circumstances of the retreat, coming to us through Greek reporters, were very liable to exaggeration. This, however, in a poetical description, is a small matter What appears to me much worse, and, indeed, the weakest point in the structure of the whole drama, is that the contrast between the character and conduct of Darius and that of his son is drawn in colours much too strong; the fact being that the son, in following the advice of Mardonius to attack Athens, was only carrying into execution the design of the father, and making use of his preparations.† All that I have to say in defence of this misrepresentation is, that the poet wrote with a glowing patriotic heat what we now contemplate with a cold historical criticism. The greatest works of the greatest masters can, as human nature is constituted, seldom be altogether free from inconsistencies of this kind

  I have only further to add, that I have carefully read what Welcker and Gruppe* have written on the supposed ideal connection between the four pieces of the tetralogy, among which the Persians stands second, in the extant Greek argument;† but that, while I admire exceedingly the learning and ingenuity of these writers, I doubt much the utility of attempting to restore the palaces of ancient art out of those few loose bricks which Time has spared us from the once compact mass Poetry may be benefited by such speculations; Philology, I rather fear, has been injured.

  Chorus,entering the Orchestra in procession. March time.

  Chorus

  • We are the Persian watchmen old,
  • The guardians true of the palace of gold,
  • Left to defend the Asian land,
  • When the army marched to Hellas’ strand;
  • Elders chosen by Xerxes the king,
  • The son of Darius, to hold the reins,
  • Till he the conquering host shall bring
  • Back to Susa’s sunny plains.
  • But the spirit within me is troubled and tossed,
  • When I think of the King and the Persian host;
  • And my soul, dark-stirred with the prophet’s mood,
  • Bodes nothing good
  • For the strength of the Asian land went forth,
  • And my heart cries out for the young king’s worth
  • That marshalled them on to the war.*
  • Nor herald, nor horseman, nor wandering fame,
  • Since then to the towers of the Persian came.
  • From Susa and from Ecbatana far,
  • And from the Cissian fortress old,†
  • Strong in the ordered ranks of war
  • Forth they went, the warriors bold;
  • Horseman and footman and seaman went,
  • A vast and various armament.
  • Amistres, Artaphrenes, led the van,
  • Megabátes, Astaspes, obeyed the ban;
  • Persian leaders, kings from afar
  • Followed the great King’s call to the war.
  • Forth they went with arrow and bow,1
  • And in clattering turms with chivalrous show;
  • To the eye of the dastard a terrible sight,
  • And with constancy mailed for the fight.
  • Artembáres in steeds delighting,
  • Imaeus the foe with the sure arrow smiting,
  • Pharandáces, Masistres, Sosthánes in war
  • Who lashes the steed, and drives the car.
  • The mighty and many-nurturing Nile
  • Sent forth many a swarthy file;
  • Susiscánes and Egypt’s son
  • Pegastágon lead them on.
  • Arsámes the mighty, whose word commands
  • The strength of the sacred Memphian bands,
  • And Ariomardus brave, whose sway
  • The sons of Ogygian* Thebes obey.
  • And the countless host with sturdy oar
  • That plough the lagoons of the slimy shore.†
  • And the Lydians march in luxurious pride,
  • And the tribes of the continent far and wide
  • Whom Arcteus and valiant Metragathes lead,
  • Kings that serve the great King’s need,
  • And the men who fight from the sharp-scythed car,
  • Whom golden Sardes2 sends to the war;
  • Some with two yoke, some with three,
  • A terrible sight to see.
  • And the sons of sacred Tmolus appear‡
  • On free-necked Hellas to lay the yoke,
  • Mardon and Tharybis, stiff to the spear
  • As the anvil is stiff to the hammer’s stroke.
  • And the men of Mysia skilful to throw
  • The well-poised dart,3 and they who ride
  • On wide Ocean’s swelling tide,
  • A mingled people with motley show
  • From golden Babylon, men who know
  • To point the arrow and bend the bow.
  • The Asian tribes that wear the sword4
  • From far and near
  • The summons hear,
  • And follow the hest of their mighty Lord.
  • All the flower of the Persian youth hath gone,
  • And the land that nursed them is left alone
  • To pine with love’s delay;
  • And wives and mothers from day to day,
  • Fearing what birth
  • The time shall bring forth,
  • Fret the long-drawn hours away.
  • CHORAL HYMN.
    STROPHE I.
  • Proudly the kingly host,
  • City-destroying, crossed
  • Hence to the neighbouring
  • Contrary coast;
  • Paving the sea with planks,
  • Marched he his serried ranks
  • Hellè’s swift-rushing stream,*
  • Binding with cord and chain,
  • Forging a yoke
  • For the neck of the main.
  • ANTISTROPHE I.
  • King of a countless host,
  • Asia’s warlike boast,
  • Shepherd of many sheep,5
  • Conquering crossed.
  • Trusting to men of might,
  • Footman and harnessed knight;
  • Son of a golden race,
  • Strong both by land and sea,
  • Equal to gods,
  • Though a mortal was he.
  • STROPHE II.
  • His eyes like the dragon’s dire
  • Flashing with dark blue fire,†
  • See him appear!
  • Through the long lines of war
  • Driving the Syrian car,‡
  • Ares in arrows strong
  • Leading against the strong
  • Men of the spear!
  • ANTISTROPHE II.
  • When wave upon wave of men
  • Breaks through each Grecian glen,
  • Whelming the land,
  • War like wild Ocean’s tide,
  • What arm shall turn aside?
  • Persia’s stout-hearted race,
  • Hand to hand, face to face,
  • Who shall withstand?
  • MESODE.
  • But, when the gods deceive,6
  • Wiles which immortals weave
  • Who shall beware?
  • Who, when their nets surround,
  • Breaks with a nimble bound
  • Out of the snare?
  • First they approach with smiles
  • Wreathing their hidden wiles:
  • Then with surprise,
  • Seize they their prey; and lo!
  • Writhing in toils of woe
  • Tangled he lies.
  • STROPHE III.
  • Fate hath decreed it so,
  • Peace, peace, is not for thee!
  • Persia, hear and know,
  • War is the lot for thee!
  • Spake the supernal powers,
  • Charging of steeds shall be,
  • Taking of towns and towers,
  • Persia, to thee!
  • ANTISTROPHE III.
  • Where the sea, hoar with wrath,
  • Roars to the roaring blast,
  • Daring a doubtful path,
  • Persian hosts have passed;
  • Where wave on wave cresting on
  • Bristles with angry breath,
  • Cable and plank alone
  • Part them from death!
  • STROPHE IV
  • Therefore is my soul within me
  • Murky-mantled, pricked with fear:
  • Alas! the Persian army! Never
  • May such cry invade my ear!
  • Susa, emptied of her children,
  • Desolate and drear!
  • ANTISTROPHE IV.
  • Never may the Cissian fortress
  • With such echo split the air;
  • Spare mine ears the shrieks of women,
  • And mine eyes the sad sight spare,
  • When fair hands the costly linen
  • From gentle bosoms tear!
  • STROPHE V.
  • For all our horse with frequent tramp,
  • And our footmen from the camp,
  • Even as bees on busy wing,
  • Swarmed out with the king:
  • And they paved their briny way,
  • Where beats the many-mingling spray
  • The bridge that joins the Thracian strand
  • To Asian land.*
  • ANTISTROPHE V.
  • Wives bedew with many a tear
  • The couches where the partner dear
  • Hath been, and is not; Persian wives
  • Fret with desire their lives.
  • Far, far, he roams from land to land,
  • Her restless lord with lance in hand;
  • She in unmated grief to moan
  • Is left alone.
  • But come, ye Persian elders all,
  • Let us seat us beside this ancient hall;
  • Wise counsel to-day let us honestly frame,
  • Touching the fate of the kingly one,
  • Race of our race, and name of our name,
  • Darius’ godlike son:
  • For much it concerns us to know
  • Whether the winged shaft shot from the bow,
  • Or the strength of the pointed spear hath won.
  • But lo! where she comes, a moving light,
  • Like the eyes of the god so bright,
  • The mother of Xerxes, my queen.
  • Let us fall down before her with humble prostration,7
  • And greet her to-day with a fair salutation,
  • The mother of Xerxes, my queen.
  • [ToAtossa,entering.] Mistress of the low-zoned women, queen of Persia’s daughters, hail!
  • Aged mother of King Xerxes, wife of great Darius, hail!
  • Spouse of him who was a god, and of a present god the mother,
  • If the ancient bliss that crowned it hath not left the Persian host.

  EnterAtossa,drawn with royal pomp in a chariot.

  Atossa.

  • Even this hath moved me, leaving these proud golden-garnished halls,
  • And the common sleeping chamber of Darius and myself,
  • Here to come. Sharp fear within me pricks my heart; I will declare
  • All the thoughts that deep perplex me to my friends; the secret fear
  • Lest our pride of ramping riches kick our sober weal in the dust,
  • Scattering wide what wealth Darius gathered, not without a god.
  • Twofold apprehension moves me, when I ponder this old truth;
  • Without men much riches profit little; without wealth the state,
  • Though in numbers much abounding, may not look on joyous light.
  • Riches are a thing not evil; but I tremble for the eye,
  • And the eye I call the presence of the master in the house.*
  • Ye have heard my sorrows; make me sharer of your counsel now,
  • In what matter I shall tell you, ancient, trusty Persian men;
  • For with you my whole of wisdom, all my healthy counsels dwell.

  Chorus.

  • Mistress of this land, believe it, never shalt thou ask a kindness,
  • Be it word from us or action, twice, while power shall aid the will;
  • We are willing to advise thee in this matter, what we may.

  Atossa.

  • Since when my son departed with the army,
  • To bring destruction on Ionia,* scarcely
  • One night hath been that did not bring me dreams;
  • But yesternight, with figurement most clear,
  • I dreamt; hear thou the theme. Methought I saw
  • Two women richly dight, in Persian robes
  • The one, the other in a Dorian dress,
  • Both tall above the vulgar stature, both
  • Of beauty blameless, and descended both
  • From the same race. The one on Hellas dwelt,
  • The other on fair Asia’s continent.
  • Between these twain some strife there seemed to rise;
  • Which when my son beheld, forthwith he seized them,
  • And joined them to his car, and made their necks
  • Submissive to the yoke. The one uptowered
  • In pride of harness, as rejoiced to follow
  • The kingly rein. The other kicked and plunged,
  • And tossed the gear away, and broke the traces,
  • The yoke in sunder snapt, and from the car
  • Ran reinless. On the ground my son was thrown,
  • And to his aid Darius pitying came,
  • Whom when he saw, my Xerxes rent his robes.
  • Such was my vision of the night; the morn
  • Brought a new portent with it. When I rose,
  • And dipped my hands in the fair-flowing fount,8
  • And to the altar of the averting gods,
  • To whom such right pertains, with sacred cake
  • In sacrificial ministry advanced,
  • I saw an eagle flying to the altar9
  • Of Phœbus; there all mute with fear I stood;
  • And after it in swiftest flight I saw
  • A hawk that darted on the eagle’s head,
  • And tore it with his claws, the royal bird
  • Yielding his glory meekly to be plucked.
  • These things I saw in fear, as ye in fear
  • Must hear them. Ye know well, my son commands
  • Supreme in Persia. Should success attend him,
  • ’Tis well; but should mischance o’ertake him, he
  • Will rule in Susa as he ruled before;
  • No power is here to whom he owes account.

  Chorus.

  • We advise thee, mother, neither with the feeble words of fear,
  • Nor with boastful courage. Turn thee to the gods in supplication:
  • Theirs it is to ward fulfilment of all evil-omened sights,
  • Bringing good to full fruition for thyself and for thy children,
  • For the city and all that love thee. Then a pure libation pour
  • To the Earth and to the Manes; with especial honor pray
  • The dread Shade of thy Darius whom thou sawest in the night,
  • To send blessings on thy Xerxes in the gladness of the day,
  • Keeping back unblissful sorrows in the sightless gloom of death.
  • Thus my soul its own diviner* with a friendly kind concern
  • Counsels. Doubtless time will perfect happy fates for thee and thine.

  Atossa.

  • Truly, with a friendly reading thou hast read my midnight dreams,
  • Words of strengthening solace speaking to my son and to my house.
  • May the gods all blessing perfect. I to them, as thou hast said,
  • And the Shades, the well-beloved, will perform befitting rites,
  • In the palace; meanwhile tell me this, for I would gladly know
  • Where, O friends, is famous Athens on the broad face of the Earth?10

  Chorus.

  Far in the west: beside the setting of the lord of light the sun.

  Atossa.

  This same Athens, my son Xerxes longed with much desire to take.

  Chorus.

  Wisely: for all Greece submissive, when this city falls, will fall.

  Atossa.

  Are they many? do they number men enough to meet my son?

  Chorus.

  What they number was sufficient once to work the Medes much harm.

  Atossa.

  Other strength than numbers have they? wealth enough within themselves?

  Chorus.

  They can boast a fount of silver, native treasure to the land.†

  Atossa.

  Are they bowmen good? sure-feathered do their pointed arrows fly?

  Chorus.

  Not so. Stable spears they carry, massy armature of shields.

  Atossa.

  Who is shepherd of this people? lord of the Athenian host?

  Chorus.

  Slaves are they to no man living, subject to no earthly name.11

  Atossa.

  How can such repel the onset of a strong united host?

  Chorus.

  How Darius knew in Hellas, when he lost vast armies there.

  Atossa.

  Things of deep concern thou speakest to all mothers in this land.

  Chorus.

  • Thou shalt know anon exactly more than I can guess, for lo!
  • Here comes one—a hasty runner—he should be a Persian man
  • News, I wis, this herald bringeth of deep import, good or bad.

  EnterMessenger.

  Mess.

  • O towns and cities of wide Asia,
  • O Persian land, wide harbour of much wealth,
  • How hath one stroke laid all thy grandeur low,
  • One frost nipt all thy bloom! Woe’s me that I
  • Should be first bearer of bad news! but strong
  • Necessity commands to speak the truth.
  • Persians, the whole barbaric host hath perished.

  STROPHE I.

  Chorus.

  • O misery! misery, dark and deep!
  • Dole and sorrow and woe!
  • Weep, ye Persians! wail and weep,
  • For wounds that freshly flow!

  Mess.

  • All, all is ruined: not a remnant left.
  • Myself, against all hope, see Persia’s sun.

  ANTISTROPHE I.

  Chorus.

  • O long, too long, through creeping years
  • Hath the life of the old man lasted,
  • To see—and nurse his griefs with tears—
  • The hopes of Persia blasted!

  Mess.

  • I speak no hearsay: what these eyes beheld
  • Of blackest evil, Persians, I declare.

  STROPHE II.

  Chorus.

  • Ah me! all in vain against Hellas divine
  • Were the twanging bow and whizzing reed,
  • All vainly mustered the thickly clustered
  • Armies of the Mede!

  Mess.

  • The shores of Salamis, and all around
  • With the thick bodies of our dead are peopled.

  ANTISTROPHE II.

  Chorus.

  • Alas! the wreck of the countless host!
  • The sundered planks, and the drifted dead,12
  • Rocked to and fro, with the ebb and the flow
  • On a wavy-wandering bed!

  Mess.

  • Vain were our shafts; our mighty multitude
  • Vanished before their brazen-beaked attack.

  STROPHE III.

  Chorus.

  • Sing ye, sing ye a sorrowful song,
  • Lift ye, lift ye a piercing cry!
  • Our harnessed throng and armies strong
  • Lost and ruined utterly!

  Mess.

  • O hated name to hear, sad Salamis!
  • O Athens, I remember thee with groans.

  ANTISTROPHE III.

  Chorus.

  • O Athens, Athens, thou hast reft us
  • Of our all we did possess!
  • Sonless mothers thou hast left us,
  • Weeping wives and husbandless!

  Atossa.

  • Thou see’st I have kept silence. this sad stroke
  • Hath struck me dumb, as powerless to give voice
  • To my own sorrows, as to ask another’s.
  • Yet when the gods send trouble, mortal men
  • Must learn to bear it. Therefore be thou calm;
  • Unfold the perfect volume of our woes,
  • And, though the memory grieve thee, let us hear
  • Thy tale to the end, what loss demands our tears,
  • Which of the baton-bearing chiefs* hath left
  • An army to march home without a head.

  Mess.

  Xerxes yet lives, and looks on the light.

  Atossa.

  • Much light
  • In this to me, and to my house thou speakest,
  • A shining day from out a pitchy night.

  Mess.

  • Artembares, captain of ten thousand horse,
  • Upon the rough Silenian shores* lies dead,
  • And Dadaces, the chiliarch, spear-struck fell
  • Precipitate from his ship—an easy leap;
  • And noble Tenagon, a pure Bactrian born,
  • Around the sea-lashed isle of Ajax floats.
  • Lilaeus, Arsames, Argestes, these
  • The waves have made their battering ram, to beat
  • The hard rocks of the turtle-nurturing isle.
  • Pharnuchus, Pheresseues, and Adeues,
  • And Arcteus from their native Nile-spring far
  • Fell from one ship into one grave. Matallus,
  • The Chrysian myriontarch, who led to Hellas
  • Full thrice ten thousand sable cavalry,
  • His thick and bushy beard’s long tawny pride
  • Hath dyed in purple gore. The Magian Arabus
  • The Bactrian Artames on the self-same shore
  • Have found no cushioned lodgment.† There Amestris,13
  • And there Amphistreus, wielder of the spear,
  • And there Metragathes lies, for whom the Sardians
  • Weep well-earned tears; and Sersames, the Mysian.
  • With them, of five times fifty ships commander,
  • Lyrnaean Tharybis, a goodly man,
  • Lies hopeless stretched on the unfriendly strand.
  • Syennesis, the brave Cilician chief
  • Who singly wrought more trouble to the foe
  • Than thousands, died with a brave man’s report.
  • These names I tell thee of the chiefs that fell,
  • A few selecting out of many losses.

  Atossa.

  • Alas! alas! more than enough I hear;
  • Shame to the Persians and shrill wails. But say,
  • Retracing thy discourse, what was the number
  • Of the Greek ships that dared with Persia’s fleet
  • To engage, and grapple beak to beak.

  Mess.

  • If number
  • Of ships might gain the fight, believe me, queen,
  • The victory had been ours. The Greeks could tell
  • But ten times thirty ships, with other ten,
  • Of most select equipment. Xerxes numbered
  • A thousand ships, two hundred sail and seven
  • Of rapid wing beside. Of this be assured,
  • What might of man could do was done to save us,
  • Some god hath ruined us, not weighing justly
  • An equal measure. Pallas saves her city.14

  Atossa.

  The city? is it safe? does Athens stand?

  Mess.

  It stands without the fence of walls. Men wall it

  Atossa.

  • But say, who first commenced the fight—the Greeks
  • Or, in his numbers strong, my kingly son.

  Mess.

  • Some evil god, or an avenging spirit,*
  • Began the fray. From the Athenian fleet
  • There came a Greek,15 and thus thy son bespoke.
  • “Soon as the gloom of night shall fall, the Greeks
  • No more will wait, but, rushing to their oars,
  • Each man will seek his safety where he may,
  • By secret flight.” This Xerxes heard, but knew not
  • The guile of Greece, nor yet the jealous gods,
  • And to his captains straightway gave command
  • That, when the sun withdrew his burning beams,
  • And darkness filled the temple of the sky,16
  • In triple lines their ships they should dispose,
  • Each wave-plashed outlet guarding, fencing round
  • The isle of Ajax surely. Should the Greeks
  • Deceive this guard, or with their ships escape
  • In secret flight, each captain with his head
  • Should pay for his remissness. These commands
  • With lofty heart, thy son gave forth, nor thought
  • What harm the gods were weaving. They obeyed.
  • Each man prepared his supper, and the sailors
  • Bound the lithe oar to its familiar block.
  • Then, when the sun his shining glory paled,
  • And night swooped down, each master of the oar,
  • Each marshaller of arms, embarked; and then
  • Line called on line to take its ordered place.
  • All night they cruised, and, with a moving belt,
  • Prisoned the frith, till day ’gan peep, and still
  • No stealthy Greek the expected flight essayed.
  • But when at length the snowy-steeded Day
  • Burst o’er the main, all beautiful to see,
  • First from the Greeks a tuneful shout uprose,
  • Well-omened, and, with replication loud,
  • Leapt the blithe echo from the rocky shore.
  • Fear seized the Persian host, no longer tricked
  • By vain opinion; not like wavering flight
  • Billowed the solemn pæan of the Greeks,
  • But like the shout of men to battle urging,
  • With lusty cheer. Then the fierce trumpet’s voice
  • Blazed* o’er the main; and on the salt sea flood
  • Forthwith the oars, with measured plash, descended,
  • And all their lines, with dexterous speed displayed,
  • Stood with opposing front. The right wing first,
  • Then the whole fleet bore down, and straight uprose
  • A mighty shout. “Sons of the Greeks, advance!
  • Your country free, your children free, your wives!
  • The altars of your native gods deliver,
  • And your ancestral tombs—all’s now at stake!”
  • A like salute from our whole line back-rolled
  • In Persian speech. Nor more delay, but straight
  • Trireme on trireme, brazen beak on beak
  • Dashed furious. A Greek ship led on the attack,†
  • And from the prow of a Phœnician struck
  • The figure-head; and now the grapple closed
  • Of each ship with his adverse desperate.
  • At first the main line of the Persian fleet
  • Stood the harsh shock; but soon their multitude
  • Became their ruin; in the narrow frith
  • They might not use their strength, and, jammed together,
  • Their ships with brazen beaks did bite each other,
  • And shattered their own oars. Meanwhile the Greeks
  • Stroke after stroke dealt dexterous all around,
  • Till our ships showed their keels, and the blue sea
  • Was seen no more, with multitude of ships
  • And corpses covered. All the shores were strewn,
  • And the rough rocks, with dead, till, in the end,
  • Each ship in the barbaric host, that yet
  • Had oars, in most disordered flight rowed off.
  • As men that fish for tunnies, so the Greeks,
  • With broken booms, and fragments of the wreck,
  • Struck our snared men, and hacked them, that the sea,
  • With wail and moaning, was possessed around,
  • Till black-eyed Night shot darkness o’er the fray.‡
  • These ills thou hearest: to rehearse the whole,
  • Ten days were few; but this my queen, believe,
  • No day yet shone on Earth whose brightness looked
  • On such a tale of death.

  Atossa.

  • A sea of woes
  • On Persia bursts, and all the Persian name!

  Mess.

  • Thou hast not heard the half: another woe
  • Remains, that twice outweighs what I have told

  Atossa

  • What worse than this? Say what mischance so strong
  • To hurt us more, being already ruined?

  Mess

  • The bloom of all the Persian youth, in spirit
  • The bravest, and in birth the noblest, princes
  • In whom thy son placed his especial trust,
  • All by a most inglorious doom have perished.

  Atossa.

  • O wretched me, that I should live to hear it!
  • But by what death did Persia’s princes die?

  Mess

  • There is an islet, fronting Salamis,
  • To ships unfriendly, of dance-loving Pan17
  • The chosen haunt, and near the Attic coast.
  • Here Xerxes placed his chiefest men, that when
  • The routed Greeks should seek this strand, our troops
  • Might both aid friends, where friends their aid required,
  • And kill the scattered Greeks, an easy prey;
  • Ill-auguring what should hap! for when the gods
  • Gave to the Greeks the glory of the day,*
  • Straightway well-cased in mail from their triremes
  • They leapt, rushed on the isle, and hedged it round,
  • That neither right nor left our men might turn,
  • But fell in heaps, some struck by rattling stones,
  • Some pierced by arrows from the twanging bow.
  • Then, in one onslaught fiercely massed, the Greeks
  • Our fenceless chiefs in slashing butchery
  • Mowed down, till not one breath remained to groan.
  • But Xerxes groaned: for from a height that rose
  • From the sea-shore conspicuous,† with clear view
  • He mustered the black fortune of the fight.
  • His stole he rent, and lifting a shrill wail
  • Gave the poor remnant of his host command
  • To flee, and fled with them. Lament with me,
  • This second sorrow heaped upon the first.

  Atossa.

  • O dismal god! how has thy hate deceived
  • The mind of the Mede! A bitter vengeance truly
  • Hath famous Athens wreaked on my poor son,
  • To all the dead that fell at Marathon
  • Adding this slaughter!—O my son! my son!
  • Thyself hast paid the penalty that thou
  • Went to inflict on others!—But let me hear
  • Where hast thou left the few ships that escaped?

  Mess.

  • The remnant of the fleet with full sail sped
  • Swift in disordered flight from Salamis
  • The wreck of the army through Bœotia trailed
  • Its sickly line: there some of thirst fell dead
  • Even in the water’s view; some with fatigue
  • Panting toiled on through Phocian land, and Doris,
  • And passed the Melian gulf, where through the plain
  • Spercheius rolls his fructifying flood
  • Then faint and famished the Achaean land
  • Received us, and fair Thessaly’s city, there
  • The most of hunger died and thirst; for with
  • This double plague we struggled Next Magnesia
  • And Macedonian ground we traversed, then
  • The stream of Axius, reedy Bolbe’s mere,
  • The Edonian fields, and the Pangaean hills.
  • But here some god* stirred winter premature,
  • And in the night froze Strymon’s holy stream.
  • Then men who never worshipped gods before
  • Called on the heavens and on the Earth to save them,
  • With many prayers, in vain. A few escaped,
  • What few had crossed the ice-compacted flood
  • Ere the strong god of light shot forth his rays.
  • For soon the lustrous orb of day shone out
  • With blazing beams, unbound the stream, and oped
  • Inevitable fate beneath them: then
  • Man upon man in crowded ruin fell,
  • And he was happiest who the soonest died.
  • We who survived, a miserable wreck,
  • Struggled through Thrace slowly with much hard toil,18
  • And stand again on Persian ground, and see
  • Our native hearths. Much cause the city has
  • To weep the loss of her selectest youth.
  • These words are true: much I omit to tell
  • Of all the woes a god hath smote withal
  • Our Persian land.

  Chorus.

  • O sorely-vexing god,
  • How hast thou trampled ’neath no gentle foot
  • The Persian race!

  Atossa.

  • Woe’s me! the army’s lost
  • O dreamy shapes night wandering, too clearly
  • Your prophecy spoke truth! But you, good Seniors,
  • Sorry expounders though ye be, in one thing
  • I will obey. I will go pray the gods,
  • As ye advised; then gifts I will present
  • To Earth and to the Manes. I will offer,
  • The sacred cake to appease them For the past,
  • ’Tis past beyond all change; but hope may be
  • To make the gods propitious for the future.
  • Meanwhile your counsel in this need I crave;
  • A faithful man is mighty in mischance
  • My son, if he shall come ere I return,
  • Cheer him with friendly words, and see him safe,
  • Lest to this ill some worser woe be added

  [Exit.

  Chorus.

  • O Jove, king Jove destroyed hast thou
  • Our high-vaunting countless hosts!
  • Our high-vaunting countless hosts
  • Where be they now?
  • Susa’s glory, Ecbatana’s pride,
  • In murky sorrow thou didst hide,
  • And with delicate hands the virgins fair
  • Their white veils tear,
  • And salt streams flow from bright fountains of woe,
  • And rain on the bosoms of snow.
  • They whose love was fresh and young,
  • Where are now their husbands strong?
  • The soft delights of the nuptial bed
  • With purple spread,
  • Where, where be they?
  • They have lost the joy of their jocund years,
  • And they weep with insatiate tears:
  • And I will reply with my heart’s strong cry,
  • And lift the doleful lay.
  • CHORAL HYMN.
    STROPHE I
  • Asia from each furthest corner
  • Weeps her woes, a sonless mourner,
  • Xerxes a wild chase pursuing,
  • Xerxes led thee to thy ruin;
  • Xerxes, luckless fancies wooing,
  • Trimmed vain fleets for thy undoing.
  • Not like him the old Darius
  • Shattered thus from Hellas came;
  • Rightly he is honoured by us,
  • Susa’s bowman without blame.
  • ANTISTROPHE I.
  • Dark-prowed ships that plough wide ocean
  • With well-poised wings through waves’ commotion,
  • Ships, the countless crews that carried,
  • In briny death ye saw them buried,
  • Where the Ionian beaks were dashing,
  • Where the Persian booms were crashing!
  • And our monarch scarcely scaping,
  • Left with life the deathful fray,
  • Through the plains of Thracia shaping
  • Sad his bleak and wintry way.
  • STROPHE II.
  • But the firstlings of our losses
  • The Ionian billow tosses,
  • And Cychréan waves are hurried,
  • O’er the stranded dead unburied.
  • Let the sharp grief bite thy marrow,
  • With thy wailing smite the sky!
  • Freely voice thy heaving sorrow,
  • With a weighty burden cry!
  • ANTISTROPHE II.
  • Woe’s me! by the wild waves driven,
  • By the mute sea-monsters riven,19
  • The untainted ocean’s creatures
  • Battening on their traceless features!
  • Heirless homes are lorn and lonely,
  • Childless parents weep and wail,
  • Old men weep, with weeping only
  • They receive the woeful tale.
  • STROPHE III.
  • Ah me! even now while we are mourning
  • Some rebel hearts belike are spurning
  • The Persian rule; some serf refuses
  • The gold due to his master’s uses.
  • And some are slow with reverence low
  • To kiss the ground and adore,
  • For the power that long was fresh and strong
  • Is found no more.
  • ANTISTROPHE III.
  • The tongues of men, free from wise reining,
  • Will now break forth with loud complaining;
  • Unmuzzled now, unyoked, the rabble
  • Will blaze abroad licentious babble.
  • For the blood-drenched soil of the sea-swept isle
  • Its prey restoreth never.
  • And the thing that hath been henceforth shall be seen
  • No more for ever.

  EnterAtossa.

  Atossa.

  • Good friends, whoso hath knowledge of mishap,
  • Knows this, that men, when swelling ills surge o’er them,
  • Brood o’er the harm till all things catch the hue
  • Of apprehension; but, when Fortune’s stream
  • Runs smooth, the same, with confidence elate,
  • Hope the boon god will blow fair breezes ever.
  • Thus to my soul all things are full of fear,
  • The adverse gods from all sides strike my eye,
  • And in my ear, with ominous-ringing peal,
  • Fate prophesies. Such terror scares my wits.
  • No royal car to-day, no queenly pomp
  • Is mine, the broidered stole would ill become
  • My present mission, bringing as thou see’st,
  • These simple offerings to appease the Shades;
  • From the chaste cow, this white and healthful milk,
  • This clearest juice, by the flower-working bee
  • Distilled, this pure wave from the virgin spring,
  • This draught of joyaunce from the unmingled grape,
  • Of a wild mother born; this fragrant fruit
  • Of the pale green olive, ever leafy-fair,20
  • And these wreathed flowers, of all-producing Earth
  • Fair children. But, my dear lov’d friends, I pray you,
  • With pious supplication, now invoke,
  • The god Darius21 while on the earth I pour
  • These pure libations to the honour’d dead.

  Chorus.

  • O queen, much-revered of the Persian nation,
  • To the chambers below pour thou the libation,
  • While we shall uplift the holy hymn,
  • That the gods who reign in the regions dim,
  • May graciously hear when we pray.
  • O holy powers that darkly sway
  • In the subterranean night,
  • O Earth, and Hermes, and thou who art king
  • Of the Shades that float on bodiless wing,
  • Send, O send him back to the light!
  • For, if remedy be to our burden of woes,
  • He surely knows.
  • CHORAL HYMN.
    STROPHE I.
  • And dost thou hear me, blessed Shade, imploring
  • Thy aid divine, and freely pouring
  • Of plaintive grief
  • The various flow?
  • I will cry out, till Persia’s godlike chief
  • Shall hear below.
  • ANTISTROPHE I.
  • O Earth, and ye that rule the shadowy homes,
  • Send from your sunless domes
  • The mighty god
  • Of Susan birth,
  • Than whom no greater yet was pressed by the sod
  • Of Persian earth.
  • STROPHE II.
  • O dear-loved man! dear tomb! and dearer dust
  • That in thee lies!
  • O Aidóneus, thy charge release,22
  • O stern Aidóneus, and, in peace,
  • Let king Darius rise!
  • ANTISTROPHE II.
  • He was a king no myriads vast he lost
  • In wars inglorious.
  • Persia, a counsellor was he,
  • A counsellor of god to thee,
  • He with his hosts victorious.
  • STROPHE III.
  • Come, dread lord!23 Appear! Appear!
  • O’er the sepulchre’s topmost tier;
  • The disc of thy regal tiara showing,24
  • With thy sandals saffron-glowing,
  • Come, good father Darius, come!
  • ANTISTROPHE III.
  • Fresh and unstaunched woes to hear,
  • Lord of a mighty lord appear!
  • For the clouds of Stygian night o’ercome us,
  • And all our youth are perished from us,
  • Come, good father Darius, come!
  • EPODE.
  • O woe! and woe! and yet again
  • Woe, and misery, and pain!
  • Why should’st thou die, and leave the land
  • Thou master of the mighty hand?
  • Why should thy son with foolish venture
  • Shake thy sure Empire to its centre?25
  • And why must we deplore
  • The countless triremes on the sea-swept shore
  • Triremes no more?26

  The Shade ofDariusrises from the Tomb.

  Darius.

  • O faithfullest of my faithful friends, compeers
  • Of my fair youth, elders of Persia, say
  • With what sore labour labours now the state?
  • Pierced is the Earth, and rent with sounds of woe!
  • And I my spouse beholding near the tomb
  • Am troubled, and her offerings I receive
  • Propitious. Ye with her this cry have raised
  • Of shrill lament to bring the dead from Hades,
  • No easy climb; the gods beneath the ground
  • Are readier to receive than to dismiss;*
  • But I was lord above them. I am come
  • To meet your questioning. Ask, while yet the time
  • Chides not my stay. What ill weighs Persia down?

  STROPHE

  Chorus.

  • I cannot speak before thee;
  • I tremble to behold thee;
  • The ancient awe subdues me.

  Darius.

  • Not to hold a long discourse, but swift to grant a short reply,
  • I have left the homes of Hades, by your wailings deeply moved.
  • What thou hast to ask me, therefore ask, and throw all fear aside.

  ANTISTROPHE.

  Chorus.

  • I tremble to obey thee.
  • Such sorrows to unfold thee,
  • My powerless lips refuse me.

  Darius.

  • Since the ancient reverence holds thee, and enchains thy mind, to thee
  • I will speak, the aged partner of my bed, my high-born spouse.
  • Cease thy weepings and thy wailings; tell me what mischance hath hapt
  • ’Tis most human that mischances come to mortal man, not few
  • Woes by seas, not few by land, if the Fates prolong his span.

  Atossa.

  • O all men in bliss surpassing while thine eyes beheld the day,
  • Of all Persians envied, living like a god on earth, no less
  • Happy wert thou in thy dying, ere thou didst behold the depth
  • Of this present woe, Darius. Thou, in short phrase shalt hear all.
  • Persia’s strength is gone: the army lost: all ruined. I have said.

  Darius.

  How? Did pestilence smite the city, or did foul sedition rise?

  Atossa.

  Neither. Near far Athens routed was the Persian host.

  Darius.

  • Who marched?
  • Which of my children marched the host to Athens?

  Atossa.

  • Thy impetuous son
  • Xerxes. Xerxes of her children drained wide Asia’s plains.

  Darius.

  • On foot,
  • Or with triremes did he risk this foolish venture?

  Atossa.

  • With two fronts,
  • One by sea, by land the other.

  Darius.

  But so vast an army how?

  Atossa.

  With rare bonds of wood and iron, Helle’s streaming frith they crossed.

  Darius.

  Wood and iron! Could these fetter billowy Bosphorus in his flow?

  Atossa.

  So it was. Some god had lent him wit to plan his own perdition.

  Darius.

  Alas! a mighty god full surely robbed him of his sober mind.

  Atossa.

  And the fruit of his great folly we behold in matchless woes

  Darius.

  I have heard your wailings: tell me more exact the dismal chance

  Atossa.

  First the whole sea host being ruined brought like ruin on the foot

  Darius.

  By the hostile spear of Hellas they have perished one and all?

  Atossa.

  Ay. The citadel of Susa, emptied of her children, moans.

  Darius.

  Alas! the faithful army!

  Atossa.

  All the flower of Bactria’s youth are slain.

  Darius.

  Woe, my hapless son! What myriads of our faithful friends he ruined!

  Atossa.

  Xerxes, stripped of all his glory, with a straggling few they say—

  Darius.

  What of him? Speak! Speak! I pray thee; is there safety, is there hope?

  Atossa.

  Fainly comes, with life scarce rescued, to the bridge that links the lands.

  Darius.

  And has crossed to Asia?

  Atossa.

  Even so, most surely, ran the news.

  Darius.

  • Ah! on wings how swift the issue of the ancient doom hath sped!
  • Thee, my son, great Jove hath smitten. Long-drawn years I hoped would roll,
  • Ere fulfilment of the dread prophetic burden should be known.
  • But when man to run is eager, swift is the god to add a spur.27
  • Opened flows a fount of sorrow to ourselves and to our friends.
  • This my son knew not: he acted with green youth’s presumptuous daring,
  • Weening Helle’s sacred current, Bosphorus’ flood divine to bind
  • Like a slave with hammered fetters, damming its unconquered tide,
  • Forcing passage against Nature for a host unwisely great.
  • Being mortal with immortals, with Poseidon’s power he dared
  • To contend fool-hardy. Did not strong distemper hold the soul
  • Of my hapless son? The riches stored by me with mickle care
  • Now, I fear, will be the booty of the swiftest-seizing hand.

  Atossa.

  • Converse with the sons of folly taught thy eager son to err,28
  • Thou wert great they said, and mighty, winning riches with thy spear,
  • He, unmanly, chamber-fighting, adding nothing to thy store.
  • With these taunts the ears assailing of thy warlike son, bad men
  • Planned at length the march to Hellas—planned his ruin and our woe

  Darius.

  • And, doing this, my son hath done a deed
  • Whose heavy memory shall not die. For never
  • Fell such mischance on Susa’s halls, since when
  • Jove gave his honor that one sceptre sways
  • Sheep-pasturing Asia. First the Mede was King
  • Of the vast host of people.29 Him his son
  • Succeeded, ending well things well begun;
  • For wisdom still was rudder to his valour.
  • Cyrus, the third from him, a prosperous man,
  • Brought peace to all his friends. The Lydian people,
  • The Phrygians, the Ionians, he subdued:
  • With him no god was wroth; for he was wise.
  • The fourth was Cyrus’ son: he was a leader
  • Of mighty hosts. Him, the fifth, Mardus followed,
  • A blot to Persia, and the ancestral throne;
  • Whom in the palace slew Artaphrenes,
  • Sworn, with a chosen band of faithful friends,
  • To give him secret riddance. Maraphis next,
  • And seventh Artaphrenes: myself
  • Then won the lot I coveted. I marched
  • My hosts to many wars, but never brought
  • Mishap like this on Susa. My son, Xerxes,
  • Being young hath young conceits; and takes no note
  • Of my advisement. Ye, who were my friends,
  • And fellows in the government, can witness,
  • We suffered loss, but we preserved the state.

  Chorus.

  • Liege lord Darius, to what issue tend
  • Thy words? With greedy ears we wait to hear
  • How Persia henceforth may her strength repair.

  Darius.

  • Learn from your loss, and never march your armies
  • Again to Hellas, were they twice as strong.
  • Not man alone, the land fights for the foe.

  Chorus.

  How mean’st thou this? how fights the land for them?

  Darius.

  • Our mighty multitudes their barren coast
  • Kills by sheer famine.

  Chorus.

  But with a moderate host?

  Darius.

  • A moderate host remains, but, of that few,
  • Few shall see Persian land.

  Chorus.

  • How? Shall the army
  • Not all from Europe cross by Helle’s frith?

  Darius.

  • Few out of many, if the prophecies,
  • That are in part fulfilled by what we see,
  • (And the gods lie not) speak the future true.
  • It is an empty hope that bids him leave
  • A select force behind him: they remain,
  • Where with fat streams Asopus feeds the plain,
  • Themselves to feed it fatter: in Bœotia
  • Much woe awaits them justly, the fair price
  • Of their own godless pride, that did not fear
  • When first they entered Greece, to rob the altars
  • Of the eternal gods, to fire their temples,
  • Uproot the old foundations of their shrines,
  • And from their basements in commingled wreck
  • Dash down the images. Much harm they worked,
  • And much shall suffer. From no shallow bed
  • Their woes shall flow, but like a spring gush forth,
  • Still fresh enforced. With such gore-streaming death
  • The Dorian spear shall daub Plataea’s soil;
  • And the piled dead to generations three
  • Speak this mute wisdom to the thoughtful eye—
  • Proud thoughts were never made for mortal man;
  • A haughty spirit* blossoming bears a crop
  • Of woe, and reaps a harvest of despair.
  • Look on these things, pride’s just avengement; think
  • On Athens and on Hellas; fear to slight
  • The present bounty of the gods, lest they
  • Rob you of much, while greed still gapes for more.
  • Jove is chastiser of high-vaunting thoughts,
  • And heavily falls his judgment on the proud;
  • Therefore, my foolish son, when he shall come,
  • With friendly warnings teach, that he may cease
  • From rash imaginings that offend the gods.
  • And thou, his aged mother, go within,
  • And bring a seemly robe with thee, to meet
  • Thy son withal: for thou shalt see him soon,
  • His broidered vestments torn in many a shred,
  • Grief’s blazonry. Thou only with kind words
  • Canst soothe his sorrow, deaf to all beside.
  • But now I go hence to the gloom below.
  • Ye aged friends, farewell. Though ills surround,
  • Yet give your souls to joyaunce, while ye may,
  • For riches profit nothing to the dead.

  [The Shade ofDariusdescends.

  Chorus.

  • O many woes, both present and to come,
  • On the barbaric race I weep to hear!

  Atossa.

  • O god, how many sorrows hast thou sent
  • To weigh me down: but this doth gnaw my heart,
  • That I should live to see my kingly son
  • Come in grief’s tattered weeds to Susa’s halls;
  • But I will go and bring a seemly robe
  • To meet him, if I may. I will not leave
  • My dear-loved son unsolaced in his woe.

  [Exit into the palace.

  • CHORAL HYMN.
    STROPHE I.
  • O glorious and great was the Persian land!
  • To the cities of Susa that owned his command
  • How blest was the day!
  • Defeat came not nigh us when good old Darius
  • With invincible, godlike, victorious hand
  • Held fortunate sway.
  • ANTISTROPHE I.
  • Sure-fenced were his cities with law, and no fear
  • The Persian knew when his armies were near;
  • They came from the fight,
  • Not weary and worn, and of glory shorn,
  • But trophied with spoils, and with costliest gear
  • All proudly bedight.
  • STROPHE II.
  • What cities of splendour
  • To him did surrender,
  • Though he crossed not the border that Halys prescribes
  • To the Median tribes!
  • From Susa far
  • Thrace feared his war,
  • And the islanded cities of Strymon the river
  • Cowered at the clang of his sounding quiver.
  • ANTISTROPHE II.
  • And cities of power,
  • Girt with wall and with tower,
  • Far inland away from the frith and the bay,
  • Rejoiced in his sway,
  • The proud roofs that gleam
  • O’er Helle’s broad stream,
  • That fringe Propontis’ bosomed shores,
  • And where the mouth of hoarse Pontus roars.
  • STROPHE III.
  • And the sea-swept isles that like sentinels stand
  • Breasting the ports of the Asian land,
  • Lesbos and Chios, with bright wine glowing,
  • And Samos, where groves of green olive are growing
  • Myconos, Paros, and Naxos together,
  • Studding the main like brother with brother,
  • And Andros that neighbourly lies in the sea,
  • Tenos to thee
  • ANTISTROPHE III.
  • And Lemnos that looks with a doubtful face
  • Half to Asia, half to Thrace,
  • And where Daedalean Icarus fell,
  • And Rhodes and Cnidos of him can tell,
  • And the cities of Cyprus great and small,
  • Paphos and Soli obeyed his call,
  • And the mother whose name the daughter borrows,
  • That caused our sorrows.*
  • EPODE.
  • And the towns of the Greeks, well peopled and wealthy,
  • He swayed with counsels wise and healthy;
  • And the mustered strength of the East stood by us,
  • A harnessed array,
  • Many-mingled were they,
  • Made one at the call of the mighty Darius.
  • But now the tide hath turned indeed,
  • The gods have worked our woe,
  • By the spear, and the glaive,
  • And the fierce-lashing wave
  • Low lies the might of the Mede!

  EnterXerxes.

  Xerxes.

  • Ah wretched me! even so, even so;
  • Suddenly, suddenly came the blow,
  • And strong was the rod of the merciless god
  • That struck the Persian low!
  • Ah me! Ah me!
  • My knees beneath me shake, to see
  • These seniors reverend and grey,
  • Gathered to meet me on such a day.
  • O would that I had been fated to die
  • With the brave where destiny found them,
  • When they stained with gore the stranger’s shore,
  • And the darkness of death came round them!

  Chorus

  • O king of the goodly army, for thee
  • We weep, and the princes that went with thee,
  • Of Persian nobles the glory and crown,
  • Whom a god with his scythe mowed down!
  • For the halls of Hades, dark and wide,
  • Xerxes hath plenished with Persia’s pride,
  • And the land laments her sons.
  • Hundreds have trodden the path of gloom,
  • Thousands of Asia’s choicest bloom;
  • Tens of thousands, that wielded the bow,
  • Are gone to the chambers of death below
  • Ah me! ah me! these strong-limbed men,
  • Where be they now that were lusty then?
  • All Asia mourns, O King, with thee,
  • And bends the feeble knee.

  Here commences, with mournful Oriental music, and with violent gesticulations, a great National Wail over the misfortunes of the Persian people.

  STROPHE I.

  Xerxes.

  • I am the man! I am the man!
  • The father of shame! the fount of disgrace!
  • Weep me! weep me! once a king,
  • Now to my country an evil thing,
  • A curse to my race!

  Chorus

  • To meet thy returning,
  • A voice of deep mourning,
  • A tune evil-aboding,
  • A cry spirit-goading,
  • Of a Maryandine wailer,30
  • Thou shalt hear, thou shalt hear,
  • O King, with many a tear!

  ANTISTROPHE I.

  Xerxes.

  • Lift ye, lift ye, the piercing cry!
  • Tune ye, tune ye, the doleful lay!
  • For the ancient god of the Persian race,
  • That bless’d our fathers, hath turned his face
  • From Xerxes away!

  Chorus.

  • A cry spirit-piercing,
  • The dark tale rehearsing,
  • Of ocean red-heaving,
  • The slaughtered receiving,
  • The cry of a city that wails for her children
  • Thou shalt hear, thou shalt hear,
  • O King, with many a tear!

  STROPHE II.

  Xerxes.

  • Ares was strong on the side of the foe,
  • The Ionian foe!
  • Bristling with ships he worked our woe.
  • His scythe did mow,
  • The sea, the land,
  • And laid us low
  • On the dismal strand.

  Leader of Chorus.

  31

  • Lift, O lift, the earnest cry!
  • Ask, and he will make reply.

  Chorus.

  • Where is all thy troop of friends,
  • That marched with thee away, away?
  • Where is the might of Pharandaces,
  • Susas and Pelagon, where be they?
  • Where is Datamas, where Agdabatus,
  • Psammis, and Susiscánes, say?
  • All that marched from Ecbatana’s halls,
  • Where be they? where be they?

  ANTISTROPHE II.

  Xerxes.

  • From a Tyrian ship they leapt on shore,
  • To leap no more.
  • On the shore of Salamis drenched in gore,
  • The stony shore,
  • They made their bed,
  • To rise no more,
  • The dead! the dead!

  Leader of Chorus.

  • Lift, O lift the earnest cry,
  • Ask, and he will make reply!

  Chorus.

  • Ah! say, where is Pharnúchus, where?
  • Cariomardus, where is he?
  • Where the chief Seualces, where
  • Aelæus of noble degree?
  • Memphis, Tharybis, and Masistris,
  • Hystæchmas, and Artembares, say?
  • All the brave that journeyed to Hellas,
  • Where be they? where be they?

  STROPHE III.

  Xerxes.

  • Ah me! ah me!
  • They looked on Ogygian Athens,* and straight
  • With one fell swoop down came the Fate,
  • And we left them there with gasp and groan,
  • On the shore of the stranger strewn.

  Chorus.

  • Didst thou leave him there to lie,
  • Batanóchus’ son, thy faithful eye?†
  • Him didst thou leave on Salamis’ shores
  • Who counted thy thousands by tens and by scores?
  • The strong Oebáres and Parthus, were they
  • Left to be lashed by the hostile spray?
  • The Persian princes—woe! woe! woe!
  • Hast thou left to the flood and the foe?

  ANTISTROPHE III.

  Xerxes.

  • Ah me! ah me!
  • Balefully, balefully with sharp sorrow,
  • Thou dost pierce my inmost marrow;
  • My heart, my heart cries out to hear thee
  • Name the lost friends I loved so dearly!

  Chorus.

  • One other name compels my grief,
  • Xanthus, of Mardian men the chief;
  • Ancháres the warlike, and lords of the steed
  • Diaexis, Arsáces that ride with speed?
  • Lythimnas, Kygdabatas, where be they,
  • And Tolmos eager for the fray?
  • Not, I wis, where they wont to be,
  • Behind the tented car with thee.

  STROPHE IV.

  Xerxes.

  They are gone, the generals, gone for ever!

  Chorus.

  Lost, and to be heard of never!

  Xerxes.

  Woe worth the day!

  Chorus.

  • Ye gods! on a public place of woe
  • Ye set us high;
  • And Até on the sorrowful show
  • Doth feast her eye.

  ANTISTROPHE IV.

  Xerxes.

  We are stricken, beyond redemption stricken!

  Chorus.

  Stricken of Heaven! with vengeance stricken!

  Xerxes.

  And sore dismay!

  Chorus.

  • On an evil day we joined the fray,
  • With the brave Greek name;
  • From Ionian ships a sheer eclipse
  • On Persia came.

  STROPHE V.

  Xerxes.

  With such an army, struck so dire a blow!

  Chorus.

  So great a power, the Persian power, laid low!

  Xerxes.

  These rags, the rest of all my state, behold!

  Chorus.

  Ay! we behold.

  Xerxes.

  This arrow-case thou see’st, this quiver alone—

  Chorus.

  What say’st thou? this alone?

  Xerxes.

  This arrow-case my all.

  Chorus.

  From store how great, remnant how small!

  Xerxes.

  With no friends near, abandoned sheer.

  Chorus.

  The Ionian people shrinks not from the spear.

  ANTISTROPHE V.

  Xerxes.

  They face it well. I saw the deadly fight.

  Chorus.

  The sea-encounter saw’st thou, and the flight?

  Xerxes.

  Ay! and beholding it I tore my stole.

  Chorus

  O dole! O dole!

  Xerxes.

  More dolorous than dole! and worse than worst!

  Chorus

  O doubly, trebly curst!

  Xerxes.

  To us annoy, to Athens joy!

  Chorus

  Our sinews lamed, our vigour maimed!

  Xerxes.

  Unministered and unattended!

  Chorus

  Alas! thy friends on Salamis were stranded!

  STROPHE VI.

  Xerxes.

  • Weep, and while the salt tears flow,
  • To the palace let us go!

  Chorus

  • We weep, and, while the salt tears flow,
  • To the palace with thee go.

  Xerxes.

  Ring the peal both loud and shrill!

  Chorus.

  An ill addition is ill to ill.

  Xerxes.

  • Swell the echo!—high and higher
  • Lift the wail to my desire!

  Chorus.

  • With echoing sorrow, high and higher,
  • We lift the wail to thy desire.

  Xerxes.

  Heavy came the blow, and stunning.

  Chorus.

  From my eyes the tears are running.

  ANTISTROPHE VI.

  Xerxes.

  • Lift thine arms and sink them low,
  • Oaring with the oars of woe!32

  Chorus.

  • Our arms we lift, dark woes deploring,
  • With the oars of sorrow oaring.

  Xerxes.

  Ring the peal both loud and shrill!

  Chorus.

  Grief to grief, and ill to ill.

  Xerxes.

  • With shrill melody, high and higher,
  • Lift the wail to my desire!

  Chorus.

  • With thrilling melody, high and higher,
  • We lift the wail to thy desire.

  Xerxes.

  Mingle, mingle sigh with sigh!

  Chorus.

  Wail for wail, and cry for cry.

  STROPHE VII.

  Xerxes.

  • Beat your breasts; let sorrow surge,
  • Like a Mysian wailer’s dirge!

  Chorus.

  Even as a dirge; a Mysian dirge.

  Xerxes.

  • From thy chin the honor tear,
  • Pluck thy beard of snowy hair!*

  Chorus.

  We tear, we tear, the snowy hair.

  Xerxes.

  Lift again the thrilling strain!

  Chorus.

  Again, again, ascends the strain.

  ANTISTROPHE VII.

  Xerxes.

  • From thy breast the white robe tear,
  • Make thy wounded bosom bare!

  Chorus.

  The purfled linen, lo! I tear.

  Xerxes.

  • Pluck the honor from thy head,
  • Weep in baldness for the dead!

  Chorus.

  I pluck my locks, and weep the dead

  Xerxes.

  Weep, weep! till thine eyes be dim!

  Chorus.

  With streaming woe, they swim, they swim.

  EPODE.

  Xerxes.

  Ring the peal both loud and shrill!

  Chorus.

  Grief to grief, and ill to ill!

  Xerxes

  Go to the palace: go in sadness!

  Chorus.

  I tread the ground sure not with gladness

  Xerxes.

  Let sorrow echo through the city!

  Chorus.

  From street to street the wailing ditty.

  Xerxes.

  • Sons of Susa, with delicate feet,33
  • Gently, gently tread the street!

  Chorus.

  Gently we tread the grief-sown soil.

  Xerxes.

  • The ships, the ships by Ajax isle,
  • The triremes worked our ruin sheer.

  Chorus.

  Go. Thy convoy be a tear.

  [Exeunt.

  NOTES TO THE PERSIANS

  LIST OF EDITIONS COMMENTARIES AND TRANSLATIONS
  
  USED BY THE TRANSLATOR

  Editions of the whole Plays.

  Aldus: Venet., 1518

  Victorius: ex officina Stephani; 1557.

  Foulis: Glasguæ; 1746.

  Schütz: 2 vols. Oxon.; 1810.

  Butler: Cantab.; 1809-16, ex editione Stanleii; 4 vols. 4to.

  Wellauer: cum. Lexico. Lipsiæ; 1823-31.

  Scholefield: Cantab.; 1828.

  Paley: Cantab.; 1844-47. 2 vols. 8vo.

  Editions of the Separate Plays.

  THE AGAMEMNON.

  Blomfield: Cantab.; 1822.

  Kennedy (with an English version, and Voss, German one). Dublin; 1829.

  Klausen: Gothæ et Erfordiæ; 1833.

  Peile. London Murray; 1839.

  Connington (with an English poetical version). London; 1848.

  Franz: with the Choephoræ and the Eumenides, and a German metrical translation. Leipzig; 1849.

  CHOEPHORÆ.

  Schwenk: Trajecti ad Rhenum; 1819.

  Klausen: Gothæ et Erfordiæ; 1835.

  Peile. London: Murray; 1844.

  EUMENIDES.

  K. O. Müller (with a German translation). Gottingen; 1833: and Anhang; 1834.

  Linwood: Oxon.; 1844.

  PROMETHEUS.

  Bothe: Lipsiæ; 1830.

  G C W. Schneider. Weimar; 1834.

  Schoemann (with a German translation). Greifswald; 1844.

  THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES.

  Blomfield. Cantab.; 1817.

  G. C. W. Schneider. Weimar; 1834.

  Griffith. Oxford.

  THE PERSIANS.

  Blomfield. Cantab; 1815.

  G. C. W. Schneider. Weimar; 1837.

  Commentaries, Dissertations, Monograms, &c.

  Apparatus Criticus et Exegeticus in Æschyli tragædias; continens Stanleii commentarium, Abreschii animadersiones, et Reisigii emendationes in Prometheum. 2 vols. 8vo. Halis Saxonum; 1832.

  Linwood: lexicon to Æschylus, 2nd edition. London; 1847.

  Blumner: Weber die Idee des Schicksals in den Tragoedien des Æschylus. Leipzig; 1814.

  Welcker: Die Æschyleische Trilogie. Darmstadt; 1824.

  Hermanni Opuscula: 6 vols. 8vo., Latin and German. Leipzig; 1827-35.

  Unger: Thebana Paradoxa. Halis; 1839.

  Klausen: Theologoumena Æschyli. Berolini; 1829.

  Toepelmann: Commentatio de Æschyli Prometheo (with a German translation). Lipsiæ, 1829.

  B. G. Weiske: Prometheus und sein Mythenkreis. Leipzig; 1842.

  Schoemann: Vindiciæ Jovis Æeschylei. Gryphiswaldiæ; 1846.

  Translations.

  Potter: English verse, 4to. Norwich; 1777.

  Anon.: English prose (marked in my notes E. P. Oxon), 3rd edition. Oxford; 1840.

  Droysen: German verse, 2nd edition. Berlin; 1842.

  T. A. Buckley: English prose. London: 1849.

  Wilhelm von Humboldt: Agamemnon metrisch ubersetzt. Leipzig; 1816.

  Symmons: the Agamemnon in English verse. London; 1824.

  Harford: the Agamemnon in English verse. London; 1831.

  Th Medwyn: the Agamemnon in English verse. London; 1832.

  Sewell: the Agamemnon in English verse. London; 1846.

  Schoemann: die Eumeniden, German verse. Greifswald; 1845.

  Th. Medwyn: the Prometheus, in English verse. London; 1832.

  Prowett: the Prometheus, in English verse. Cambridge; 1846.

  Swayne: the Prometheus, in English verse. London; 1846.

  C. P. Conz: die Perser, and die Sieben vor Tuebae. Tübingen; 1817.

  EVERYMAN’S LIBRARY By ERNEST RHYS

  [* ]Life, Vol. I. p. 192.

  [* ]Southey requested a Frenchman ambitious of translating his Roderick, to do so in prose, not because he preferred that method in general, but because he believed that “poetry of the higher order is as impossible in French, as it is in Chinese!”—Life, Vol. IV. p. 100.

  [† ]Life, Vol. III. p. 44.

  [* ]Southey—Preface to A Vision of Judgment.

  [† ]As for Klopstock’s Odes, written mostly in classical metres, Zelter, the Berlin musician, said significantly that, when reading them, he felt as if he were eating stones!—See Briefwechsel mitGoethe.

  [‡ ]Τὸ μὲν γὰρ πρωˆτον τετραμετρῳ εχρωˆντο διὰ τὸ σατυρικὴν καὶ ὀρχηστκωτέραν [Editor: illegible character]ιναι τὴν ποίησιν.
  
  Port. 4.

  [§ ]As in the conclusion of the Agamemnon, when the passion of the interested parties has wrought itself up to a climax. So in the passionate dialogue between Eteocles and Polynices, in Eurip. Phœnis. 591. The use of the Trochees in these passages is thus precisely the same as that of the Anapæsts in the finale of the Prometheus In the Persians, they serve to give an increased dignity to the person of Atossa, and the Shade of the royal Darius.

  [∥ ]“Take our blank verse for all in all, in all its gradations from the elaborate rhythm of Milton, down to its lowest structure in the early dramatists, and I believe that there is no measure comparable to it, either in our own or in any other language, for might and majesty, flexibility and compass.”—Southey, Preface to the Vision of Judgment. What Bulwek says to the contrary (Athens and the Athenians, vol. II. p. 43), was crudely thought, or idly spoken, and unworthy of so great a genius.

  [* ]Eumenides, sect. 16.

  [† ]See Aristides and the musical writers; also Dionysius. Consider, also, what a solemnity Plutarch attributes to the ἐμβατηριος παιων of the Spartans (Lycurg. 22), which, of course, was either Dactylic or Anapæstic verse. Altogether, there can be no greater mistake than to imagine that our Dactylic and Anapæstic verse are the æsthetical equivalents of the ancient measures from which their names are borrowed They are, in many parts of my translation, rather the equivalent of Dochmiac verse, and this, in obedience to the uniform practice of our highest poets, in passages of high passion and excitement.

  [‡ ]Mitchell (Aristoph. Ran. v. 1083) has remarked, with justice, that Æschylus is particularly fond of this verse. I was prevented from using it so often as might have been desirable in the choric odes, from having made it the representative of the Anapæsts.

  [* ]On the Dochmiacs, Ionic a minori, and other rhythmical details, the reader will find occasional observations in the Notes; and those who are curious in those matters will find my views on some points more fully stated in Classical Museum, No III. p. 338; No. XIII. p. 319, and No. XXII p. 432. The Dochmiac verse was, in fact, equivalent to a bar of [Editor: illegible character] in modern music.—See Apel’s Metrik.

  [* ]The corrupt state of the Æschylean text is no doubt to be attributed mainly to the rhetorical taste which, in the ages of the decadence, prevailed so long at Rome, Athens, Alexandria, and Byzantium, and which naturally directed the attention of transcribers to the text of Euripides, the great master of tongue-fence and the model-poet of the schools.—See Quinctil. X. 1.

  [* ]There is a prevalent idea that the modern Greek language, or Romaic, as it is called, is a different language from the ancient Greek, pretty much in the same way that Italian is different from Latin. But this is a gross mistake Greek was and is one unbroken living language, and ought to be taught as such.

  [† ]Whiston, Article Tragedy in Smith’s Dictionary of Antiquities, Second Edition; and Donaldson in the Greek Theatre, Sixth Edition London: 1849. P. 30.

  [* ]Γενομένη ἀπ ἀρχη̂ς ἀυτοσχεδιαστικὴ ἡ τραγῳδία ἀπὸ τωˆν ἐξαρχόντων τὸν διθύραμβον κατὰ μικρον ὴυξήθη.—Aristot. poet. 4.—Compare the words of the old Iambic poet Archilochus, given by Athenaeus (XIV. p. 628)—“I know well how to dance the Dithyramb when the wine thunders dissily through my brain!” The word Dithyramb, according to the best etymology which has come in my way (Donaldson & Hartung), means the revel of the god.

  [† ]Αρίον τὸν Μηθυμναɩ̂ον πρωˆτον ἀνθρώπων τωˆν ἡμεɩ̂ς [Editor: illegible character]δμεν ποιήσαντα τε καὶ [Editor: illegible character]νομάσαντα και διδάξαντα τὸν διθύραμβον ἐν Κορίνθῳ.—Herod. I. 23. Compare Suidasin voceArion, and ScholPindar, Olymp. XIII 25.

  [* ]Διθύραμβος ο̂ς [Editor: illegible character]ν κύκλιος χορός.—Schol., Pindar, as above.

  [† ]χορὸς ’εστὼς κυκλικωˆς.—Tzetzes Proleg. to Lycophron

  [‡ ]Hartung, on the Dithyramb —Classical Museum, No XVIII p. 373. Mure’s literature of ancient Greece.—Vol III., p 85

  [§ ]The number fifty is mentioned in the Epigram of Simonides, beginning ἠρχεν Αδείμαντος, in the above-mentioned prologue of Tzetzes, and in Pollux, Lib iv., 15, who says that this number of the Chorus was used even by Æschylus up to the time when the Eumenides was represented The number twelve is commonly mentioned by other authorities as having been used by Æschylus, while Sophocles is said to have increased it to fifteen, which afterwards became the standard number Müller (Eumenides) ingeniously supposes that the tragic poets, so long as the exhibition by tetralogies lasted, got the original number of fifty from the public authorities, and divided it among the different pieces of the tetralogy Blomfield’s notion (Preface to the Persae) that the Chorus to the Eumenides consisted of only three persons, though a kind word has been said in its favour lately (Mason in Smith’s Dict of Antiq. voceChorus), deserves, in my opinion, not a moment’s consideration, either on philological or æsthetical grounds I may mention here further, for the sake of those to whom these matters are strange, that the Chorus holds communication with the other characters in a Greek play generally by means of its Coryphaeus or Leader, which is the reason why it is often addressed in the singular and not in the plural number.

  [* ]Vit. Philos III 34 It will be observed that, if a third actor appears on the stage in some parts of the Orestean trilogy, this is to be accounted for by the supposition that, in his later plays, the poet adopted the improvements which his young rival had first introduced The number of actors here spoken of does not, of course, take into account mutes or supernumeraries, such as we find in great numbers in the Eumenides, and more or less almost in every extant piece of Æschylus.

  [* ]Poetics, c. xiii.

  [† ]Wilson, Vol. I. p. xxvi.

  [* ]Twining; but the meaning of the Greek is disputed.

  [* ]“ἡ μελοποίια, μέγιστον τωˆν ἡδυσμάτων.”—Poetics, c. vi. The success of the modern Italian opera in England, proves this in a style of which Aristotle could have had no conception.

  [* ]The position of the old Theban senators, who form the Chorus in this play, has called forth not a little learned gladiatorship lately, Böckh (whose opinion on all such matters is entitled to the profoundest respect) maintaining that the Chorus is the impersonated wisdom of the play as conceived in the poet’s mind, while some of his critics (Dyer in Class Mus Vol II p 69) represent them as a pack of cowardly sneaking Thebans, whom it was the express object of the poet to make ridiculous This latter opinion is no more tenable than it would be to say that it was the object of Æschylus to make his Chorus of old men in that noted scene of the Agamemnon ridiculous; but so much truth there certainly is in it, that from the inherent defect of structure in the Greek tragedy, consisting in the constant presence of the Chorus in the double capacity of impartial moralizers and actors after a sort, there could not but arise this awkwardness to the poet that, while he always contrived to make them speak wisely, he sometimes could not prevent them from acting weakly, and even contemptibly

  [† ]On the dramatic imbecility of Euripides, see my article in the Foreign Quarterly Review, No. XLVII His success as a dramatist is the strongest possible proof of the undramatic nature of the stage for which he wrote.

  [* ]See the article Dionysia, by Dr. Schmitz, in Smith’s Dictionary of Antiq

  [* ]The same doctrine, I am sorry to see, has been repeated with special reference to Æschylus, and with very little qualification, by Whiston in the article Tragædia in Dr. Smith’s Dict. Antiq, 2d Edit, p 1146. Schlegel is quite wrong, when he says “the Greek gods are mere Naturmächte”—physical or elemental powers. Connington, however, in the preface to his Agamemnon, expresses exactly my sentiments, when he protests against a “crystallization of destiny” being set up “as the presiding genius of the national dramatic literature of the Greeks.”

  [† ]See the works of Klausen and Blumner at the end of Vol. II And our English Sewell recognizes, in the works of Æschylus, “the voice of a self-constituted Heathen Church protesting against the vices and follies that surrounded her.”—Preface to the Agamemnon, p. 15.

  [* ]Cicero pro Muræna, 13.

  [† ]Αισχύλος πολλὰ σχήματα ὸρχηστικὰ ἀυτος ὲξευρίσκων, ἀνεδίδου τοɩ̂ς χορευταɩ̂ς.—Lib I. p. 22.

  [‡ ]See Dyer, on the Choral Dancing of the Greeks.—Classical Museum, No. IX. p. 229.

  [* ]Boeckh and Donaldson, in their editions of the Antigone. Berlin, 1843, p. 280 London, 1848 Introduction, p xxix.

  [† ]I read ἐισόδῳ, not ε̂ξόδω, as it is in Matthiae, which is either a misprint, or a mistake in the writer, as the quotation immediately following proves

  [‡ ]This is Muller’s view in Eumenides, § 21

  [* ]It may be as well here, for the sake of some readers, to remark that the orchestra, or dancing place (for so the word means), was that part of the ancient theatre which corresponds to the modern Pit For a minute description of the ancient stage, the reader must consult Donaldson’s Greek Theatre, c. VII

  [† ]One of the most striking proofs of this is the many instances that occur in the tragedians of that most undramatic of all mannerisms—self-description—as when a sorrowful Chorus describes the tears on its cheek, the beating on its breast, and such like True grief never paints itself

  [‡ ]Bulwer, in Athens and the Athenians

  [§ ]From the limited number of actors arose necessarily this evil, that the persons in a Greek dramatic fable appear not cotemporaneously, but in succession, one actor necessarily playing several parts Now, the commonest fabricator of a novel for the circulating library knows how necessary it is to keep up a sustained interest, that the character, when once introduced, shall not be allowed to drop out of view, but be dexterously intermingled with the whole complex progress of the story, and be felt as necessary or at least as agreeable, to the very end.

  [* ]Writers on Belles Lettres, from Trapp down to Schlegel, have been very severe on the modern opera, and indignantly repudiated all comparison between it and the Greek tragedy It is a common illusion of mental optics with the learned to magnify the defects of what is near and before their nose, while the peculiar excellencies of what is far distant in time or space are in a corresponding degree exalted So Schlegel, in his sublime German zeal against certain shallow judgments of Voltaire and other French critics, worked himself up into an idealized enthusiasm for some of the most glaring imperfections of the Greek stage, while in the modern opera he only sees the absurdities of the real. In assuming this tone he has, of course, been imitated by certain persons of little speculation in this country, who have thought it necessary slavishly to worship the Germans in all things, merely because certain other persons of no speculation ignorantly despised them. With regard to the opera, it is plain enough that it differs from the ancient tragedy in the following points:—(1) In not being essentially of a religious character; (2) in not varying the musical with the declamatory element; (3) in dealing more in monody, and less in choral singing, (4) in using the Chorus freely, according to the nature of the action, and not being always encumbered with it; (5) in making the mere musical element so predominate that poets of the first order seldom condescend to employ their talents in writing the text for an opera All these special differences, however, do not mar the propriety of the general comparison between an ancient “goat-song” and a modern opera, justified, as it is, plainly by the common musical element which both contain in different degrees of prominence. In point of high moral tone, high poetic diction, and noble conception, the ancient lyrical drama is no doubt vastly superior to the modern opera; but in some other points, as in the more free and adroit use of the Chorus, the opera is as much superior to the goat-song. With respect to the Chorus in particular, Schlegel has said many things that look very wise, but are simply not true. The Chorus is only half described (see above, p 20), when it is called the “ideal spectator.” What he says about publicity is mere talk. There is no other reason for the presence of the Chorus than because it was originally the essential part of the performance, and could not but be to the end the most popular.

  [* ]“Æschylus used to say that his tragedies were only slices cut from the great banquet of Homeric dainties.”—Athenæus, VIII p. 348

  [† ]In the Frogs (v 886), Aristophanes makes him show at once the religiousness of his character, and its source, in the two lines of invocation—

  • “O, thou that nourished my young soul, Demeter,
  • Make thou me worthy of thy mysteries!”

  [* ]From the διδασκαλία, or note of the year of representation with the name of the author, in the argument to that play On the arguments from internal evidence brought forward to prove that the Suppliants is the oldest extant play, I place no value whatever The simplicity of structure proves nothing, because it proves too much. Several of the extant plays are equally simple. For aught we know, it may have been the practice of Æschylus to the very last, as we see in the case of the Choephoræ, to give the middle piece of his trilogies less breadth and variety than the opening and concluding ones, and it is almost certain that the Suppliants was either the second or the first play of a trilogy.

  [* ]Schol, Aristoph Ran. 1060, Welcker’s Tril p. 475, and the Vit. Robortel (which, however, I have not seen).

  [† ]Mar Par ep 53. Welcker’s Tril. p. 116.

  [‡ ]See Introduction to that piece

  [* ]Scholiast, Aristoph Acharn v 10

  [† ]Philostratus, Vit Soph I. 9; Vit Apollon VI. 11, p. 244.

  [‡ ]The great comedian is particularly amusing in the contrast which he draws between the rude instinctive grandeur of the Æschylean diction and the elegant rhetorical decorations of Euripides —

  • “With high-sounding words he will make such a pother,
  • With helmeted speeches he bravely will spout;
  • With chippings and shavings of rhetoric the other
  • All whirling and dancing about
  • Will stand at bay; but the deep-thoughted bard,
  • With equestrian harmonies, galloping hard,
  • Will floor in the fight
  • The glib-tongued wight.
  • The stiff hair of his mane all alive for the fray,
  • Bristling and big from the roots he will ruffle,
  • His black brows he will knit, and terribly bray,
  • Like a lion that roars for the scuffle.
  • Huge words by rivets and spike-nails bound,
  • Like plank on plank he will fling on the ground,
  • Blasting so bold
  • Like a Titan of old.”

  [* ]Aristotle, Ethic. Nicom. III. 1. Clemen Alex., Strom II. 14, p. 461. Pott. Aelian, V.H.V. 19, and Welcker, Trilog p. 106.

  [1 ]The primary authorities for the life of Æschylus are the Parian Marble, the Βίος Αισχ[Editor: illegible character]λου, the Frogs of Aristophanes, the arguments of the extant plays, and various incidental notices in Athenæus and other ancient authors, most of whom have been quoted or mentioned in the text With regard to secondary sources of information, the present writer has been much assisted, and had his labour essentially curtailed, by Petersen’sVita Æschyli, Havniae, 1812, the article Æschylus, by Whiston, in Dr Smith’s Dictionary of Biography and Mythology, the admirable condeused summary in Bernhardy’sGrundriss der Griechischen Litteratur, 2ter, Theil,Halle, 1845, and Donaldson’s Greek Theatre In Chronology, I have followed Clinton.

  [* ]Welcker, in the introductory remarks to his Epischer Cyclus (sect. 1), has given what appear to me sufficient reasons for not confounding this Proclus with the famous Platonist of the same name.

  [† ]This and other curious fragments from the wreck of the old Hellenic epos, will be found in Becker’s Scholia to Homer (Berlin, 1825), or in the second volume of Welcker’s Epic Cycle (Bonn, 1849), in the Appendix

  [* ]See Thucydides, I. [Editor: illegible character].

  [* ]See Welcker’s Trilogie, Darmstadt, 1824, p. 408, who, however, here, as in other parts of the same learned work, expends much superfluity of ingenious conjecture on subjects which, from their very nature, are necessarily barren of any certain result.

  [* ]Jove to Priam sent the eagle, of all flying things that be
  
  Noblest made, his dark-winged hunter

  [† ]i e The right hand—the hand which brandishes the spear, χερὸς ἐκ δοριπάλτου; the right being the lucky side in Greek augury —Iliad, xxiv 320

  [‡ ]Calchas, the famous soothsayer of the Iliad.

  [§ ]Diana

  [* ]This excellent version I took from an article in the Quarterly Review.—Vol. lxx. p. 340

  [† ]The sacrifice of Iphigenia displeasing to Clytemnestra.

  [* ]Chalcis a city in Eubœa, opposite Aulis.

  [† ]A river in Macedonia.

  [* ]The epithet καλλιπρώρου, beautiful fronted, applied to στόματος, being contrary to the genius of the English language, the translator must content himself with the simple epithet.

  [* ]An old name for the Peloponnesus

  [* ]Vulcan.

  [* ]Venus.

  [* ]The Furies.

  [* ]Mars

  [* ]“My bosom’s lord sits lightly on his throne.”
  
  Shakespere, quoted by Symmons.

  [* ]Æsculapius.

  [* ]Swallow jabber.—“Barbarians are called swallows because their speech cannot be understood any more than the twitter of swallows.”—Stanley, from Hesychius.

  [† ]An epithet of Apollo, from λοξὸς oblique, for which Macrobius (Sat. I. 17) gives astronomical reasons; but it seems more obvious to say that the god is so called from the obliqueness or obscurity of his oracles

  [* ]From the looseness of the laws of quantity in English versification, it may be as well to state here that I wish these lines of seven syllables to be read as υ υ —′, υ —′, υ —′, not —′ υ, —′ υ, —′ υ, —′.

  [* ]The Furies.

  [* ]Dun-plumed. ξουθὰ.

  • “Because the poor brown bird, alas
  • Sings in the garden sweet and true.”
  • Miss Barbett

  [† ]

  • “Most musical, most melancholy bird!”
  • A melancholy bird? O idle thought!
  • In Nature there is nothing melancholy.
  • Coleridge

  [* ]See Introductory Remarks.

  [* ]The banquet of his own children, which Atreus offered to Thyestes.—See Introductory Remarks.

  [* ]Apollo.

  [* ]πόρθμευμ αχέων, whence Acheron, so familiar to English ears; as in the same way Cocytus, from κωκυω, to avail, and the other infernal streams, with a like appropriateness.

  [* ]The house of Atreus, so called from Pleisthenes, one of the ancestry of Agamemnon.

  [Note 1 (p 43).]

  • “High on the Atridan’s battlements.”

  
  
  Dunbar, Sewell, and Connington plead strongly for translating ἄγκαθεν here as in Eumen. v. 80, thus—

  • “As I lie propped on my arm
  • Upon the Atridan housetop, like a dog”

  But this idea has always appeared to be more like the curious conceit of an ingenious philologist, than the natural conception of a great poet. Supposing the original reading to have been ἀνέλαθεν, the mere accidental lengthening of the leg of the ν by a hurried transcriber, would give the word the appearance of γ to a careless scrutinizer; and that this blunder was actually made the metre proves in Eumen. 361, in which passage, whatever Sew. may ingeniously force into it, the meaning from above is that which is most in harmony with the context. Besides, in such matters, I am conservative enough to have a certain respect for tradition

  [Note 2 (p. 43).]

  • “The masculine-minded who is sovereign here.”

  
  
  “ἀνδρόβουλον seems to be used here ambiguously, and to be the first hint of lurking mischief. The gradual development of the coming evil from these casual hints is one of the chief dramatic beauties of the Agamemnon.”—Sew.

  [Note 3 (p. 43)]

  • “ . . and lift high-voiced
  • The jubilant shout”

  
  
  I have strongly rendered the strong term, ἐπορθιάζειν, which would necessarily suggest to the Greek the high-keyed notes of the νόμος ὄρθιος mentioned by Herod I. 22, as sung by Arion to the sailors. I think, however, it is going beyond the mark to say, with Symmons, “With loud acclaim, and Orthian minstrelsy,” retaining the word ὄρθιος, which is only suggested, not expressed in the text, and printing it with a capital letter, as if it were a sort of music as distinct as the Mysian and Maryandine wailing, mentioned in the Persians. Thus, ὀρθίον κωκυμάτων ϕωνή, in Soph. Antigone, 1206, means nothing but the voice of shrill wails, or, as Donaldson well translates the whole passage,

  • “The voice of lamentation treble-toned,
  • Peals from the porch of that unhallowed cell.’

  [Note 4 (p. 43).]

  • “Thrice six falls to me.”

  
  
  That is, the highest throw in the dice. “The dice (tessera, κύβοι), in games of chance among the ancients, were numbered on all the six sides, like the dice now in use; and three were used in playing Hence arose the proverb, ᾔ τρὶς [Editor: illegible character]ξ ᾔ τρεɩ̂ς κύβοι, either three sixes or three aces, all or none.”—Dr. Smith’s Antiq. Dict vocetessera.

  [Note 5 (p. 43).]

  • “Is laid a seal.”

  
  
  Literally, a hugc ox hath gone, an expression supposed to be derived from the figure of an ox, as the symbol of wealth, expressed on an old coin; in which case, to put the ox on a man’s tongue, would be equivalent to tipping it with silver, that is to say, giving money with injunction of secrecy. After the expression became proverbial, it might be used generally to express secrecy without any idea of bribery, which, as Con. remarks, is quite foreign to this place, and therefore Franz is wrong to translate “mir verschliesst ein golden Schloss den Mund.” I follow here, however, Humboldt and Sym. in not introducing the ox into the text, as it is apt to appear ludicrous; and, besides, the origin of the expression seems only conjectural.

  [Note 6 (p. 44).]

  • “Sceptred kings by Jove’s high grace.”

  
  
  Διόθεν. “ἐκ δε Διός βασιλη̂ες,” says the theogony. Homer also considers the kingly office as having a divine sanction, and Agamemnon on Earth represents Jupiter in Heaven.—Iliad I. 279; II. 197. And there can be no doubt that the highest authority in a commonwealth, whether regal or democratic, has a divine sanction, so long as it is exercised within its own bounds, and according to the laws of natural justice.

  [Note 7 (p. 44).]

  • “O’er the lone paths fitful-wheeling.”

  
  
  I have endeavoured to combine both the meanings of ἐκπατιόις which have any poetical value; that of Sym.lonely, and that of Klausen,wandering, and therefore excessive, which Con. well gives “with a wandering grief.” The same beautiful image is used by Shelley in his Adonais.

  [Note 8 (p. 44).]

  • “. . . The late-chastising Fury.”

  
  
  That the divine vengeance for evil deeds comes not immediately, but slowly, at a predestined season, is a doctrine as true in Christian theology as it is familiar to the Heathen dramatists Therefore, Tiresias, in the Antigone, prophesies to Creon that “the avenging spirits of Hades and of Heaven, storing up mischief for a future day (ὑστεροϕθόροι), would punish him for his crimes. But when the sword of Olympian justice is once drawn, then the execution of the divine judgment comes swiftly and by a short way, and no mortal can stay it.” As the same Sophocles says—

  • συντέμνουσι γὰρ
  • Θεωˆν ποδώκεις τὸυς κακὸϕρονας βλάβαι.
  • Antig. V. 1104.

  [Note 9 (p. 44).]

  • “. . . Jove, the high protector
  • Of the hospitable laws.”

  
  
  As he is the supreme ruler of the physical, so Jove has a providential supervision of the moral world, and in this capacity is the special punisher of those who sin (where human laws are weak to reach), by treachery or ingratitude, as was the case with Paris. This function of the Hellenic Supreme Deity is often piously recognized by Homer, as in Odys. XIV. 283—

  • “But he feared the wrath of Jove, lord of the hospitable board,
  • Jove who looks from Heaven in anger on the evil deeds of men”

  [Note 10 (p 44).]

  • “The powers whose altars know no fire.”

  
  
  ἀπύρων ὶερωˆν, “fireless holy things” By “fireless” is here meant, so far as I can see, not to be propitiated by fire, persons to whom all sacrificial appeals are vain. Whether the Fates or the Furies are meant there are no means of ascertaining; for both agree with the tone of feeling, and with the context; and as they are, in fact, fundamentally the same, as powers that always act in unison (Eumen, 165 and 949), the reader need not much care. It is possible, however, that the whole passage may bear the translation of “powers wroth for fireless altars,” i.e. neglected sacrifices.—So Humb and Fr. Nor are we bound to explain what sacrifices, or by whom neglected; for omission of religious rites, known or unknown, was a cause, always at hand, with the ancients, to explain any outpouring of divine wrath. Buckley, following Bamberger and Dindorf, considers that the sacrifice of Iphigenia is alluded to; which is also probable enough. No commentary can make clear what the poet has purposely left dark.

  [Note. 11 (p 45).]

  • “The oil that knows no malice.”

  
  
  We see in this passage the religious significancy, as it were, of the oil used in their sacred rites by the ancients; and we may further remark, with Sew., that “the oil used in religious rites was of great value. Compare the directions given in the Scriptures for making that which was used in the service of the Tabernacle,” and, generally—see Leviticus c ii. for a description of the various kinds of sacred cakes made of fine flour and oil used in the sacrificial offerings of the Jews.

  [Note 12 (p. 45).]

  • “I’ll voice the strain.”

  
  
  I have carefully read all that has been written on this difficult passage, and conclude that it is better to rest contented with the natural reference of ἀιὼν to the old age of the singer, indicated by ἐτι, and the previous tone of the Anapests, than to venture with Fr., Hum., and Linwood, on a reference which I cannot but think is more far-fetched. The line ἀλκὰν σύμϕυτος ἀιων is corrupt, and no rigid rendering of it ought to be attempted. Buckley in a note almost disclaims his own version.

  [Note 13 (p. 46).]

  • “The diverse-minded kings.”

  
  
  δυό λήμασι δισσούς. Surely this expression is too distinct and prominent to be slurred over lightly, as Con seems inclined to do. I follow my own feeling of a passage so strongly marked by a peculiar phraseology, and Linwood. It will be observed that, in the Iliad, while Agamemnon behaves in a high and haughty style to Achilles, Menelaus conducts himself everywhere, and especially in the case of Antilochus (xxiii. 612), with mildness and moderation, so as justly to allow himself the boast,

  • “ὠς ἐμὸς ὀύποτε θυμὸς νˆπερϕιάλος κὰι ἀπηνής.”

  [Note 14 (p. 46).]

  • “Winged hounds.”

  
  
  “This is one of those extravagances of expression in which the wild fancy of Æschylus often indulged, and for which he is rallied by Aristophanes.”—Harford. I cannot allow this to pass without remark. No expression could be more appropriate to picture that singular combination of the celerity of the bird nature, with the ferocity of the quadruped, which is described here, and in the Prometheus, in the speech of Mercury. Besides, in the present case the prophetic style would well excuse the boldness of the phrase, were any excuse required Harford has put the tame expression, “Eagles,” into his text, but Shelley in his “Prometheus Unbound,” had not the least hesitation to adopt the Greek phrase.

  [Note 15 (p. 47).]

  • “The fair goddess.”

  
  
  ἁ καλὰ, “the beauteous one.”—Sew. An epithet which Con. was surely wrong to omit, for it is characteristic. To this Muller has called attention in his Prolegomena zu ciner wissensch, Mythologie (p 75; edit. 1825) noting the expressions of Sappho, ἀρίστη καὶ καλλίστη, the best and the fairest, as applied to Artemis, according to the testimony of Pausanias, I. 29. The prominence given by Æschylus here to that function of Artemis, by which, as the goddess of beauty, she is protectress of the wild beasts of the forest, is quite Homeric; as we may see from these three lines of the Odyssey:—

  • “Even as Artemis, dart-rejoicing, o’er the mountains walks sublime,
  • O’er the lofty ridge of Taygetus, o’er the Erymanthian steep,
  • And with gladsome heart beholds the wild boar and the nimble stag”
  • VI 102.

  According to the elemental origin of mythology, this superintendence naturally arose from the fact, that Artemis was the Moon, and that the wild beasts go abroad to seek for prey in the night time.

  [Note 16 (p. 47).]

  • “I pray thee, Pæan, may she never send.”

  
  
  In the original Ιήἴον παια̂να, a well-known epithet of Apollo, as in the opening chorus of the Œdipus Tyrannos, Ιήιέ δάλιε παιάν, containing an invocation of the Delphic god, quoted by Peile. From the practice of frequently invoking the name of the gods in the public hymns, as in the modern Litanies, the name of the divine person passed over to the song that voiced his praises—(Iliad I. 473)—and thence became the appellation—as in the modern word pæan—for a hymn generally—(Proclus Chrestom. Gaisford. Hephaest., p. 419)—or at least a hymn of jubilee, sadness and sorrow of every kind being naturally abhorrent from the worship of the beneficent sun god (p. 72, above).

  [Note 17 (p. 47).]

  • “Stern-purposed waits the child-avenging wrath.”

  
  
  This passage is obscure in the original, and, no doubt, purposely so, as became the prophetic style. I do not, therefore, think we are bound, with Sym., to give the

  • Child-avenging wrath

  a special and distinctly pronounced reference to Clytemnestra, displeased with Agamemnon for allowing the sacrifice of Iphigenia—
  
  

  • “Homeward returning see her go,
  • And sit alone in sullen woe;
  • While child-avenging anger waits
  • Guileful and horrid at the palace gates.’

  Though I have no doubt she is alluded to among other Furies that haunt the house of Atreus, and the poet very wisely supplies here a motive. So Well, and Lin.; and my version, though free, I hope does nothing more than express this idea of a retributive wrath brooding through long years over a doomed family, and ever and anon, when apparently laid, breaking out with new manifestations—an idea, however, so expressed in the present passage that, as Dr. Peile says, “No translation can adequately set it forth.”

  [Note 18 (p. 47).]

  • “Jove, or what other name.”

  
  
  After the above sublime introduction follows the Invocation of Jove, as the supreme over-ruling Deity, who alone, by his infinite power and wisdom, is able to lead the believing worshipper through the intricacies of a seemingly perplexed Providence. The passage is one of the finest in ancient poetry, and deserves to be specially considered by theological students. The reader will note carefully the reverential awe with which the Chorus names the god invoked—a feeling quite akin to that anxiety which takes possession of inexperienced people when they are called on to address written or spoken words to persons of high rank. Many instances of this kind are quoted from the ancients by Victorius, in Stanley’s notes, by Sym., and by Peile. The most familiar instance to which I can refer the general reader is in the second chapter of Livy’s first book:— “Situs est Æneas, quemcumque eum dici jus fasque est, super Numicium flumen. Jovem indigetem appellant.” If in so obvious a matter a profound mythologist like Welcker—(Tril., p. 104)—should have found in this language of deepest reverence signs of free-thinking and irony, we have only another instance of the tyrannous power of a favourite idea to draw facts from their natural coheston, that they may circle round the nucleus of an artificial crystallization. Sewell has also taken up the same idea with regard to the scepticism of this passage, and in him, no less, must we attribute this notion to the influence of a general theory with regard to the religious opinions of Æschylus, rather than to any criticism which the present passage could possibly warrant.

  [Note 19 (p. 47).]

  • “With all-defiant valour brimming o’er.”

  
  
  A very literal rendering of the short, but significant, original παμμαχῳ θρὰσει βρύων, on which Sym. remarks that “it presents the magnificent and, to us, incongruous image of a giant all-steeled for battle, and bearing his boldness like a tree bearing its blossoms.” But there is no reason that I know for confining Βρύω here to its special use in Iliad XVII. 56 (Βρύει [Editor: illegible character]υθει λευκῳ) and other such passages. It rather suggests generally, as Sew. says, “ideas of violence, exuberance, and uproar,” like βρυάζων in Suppl. 856. He has accordingly given

  • “With all-defying spirit, like a boiling torrent roaring,’

  from which I have borrowed one word, with a slight alteration, but consider myself safer in not tying down the general word βρύων, to the special case of a torrent any more than of a tree. The recent Germans—“Im Gefuhle stolzer Kraft” (Fr.), and “allbewahrteu Trotzes hehr”—are miserably tame after Humboldt’s admirable “strotzend kampfbegierig frech.” As to the meaning of the passage, the three celestial dynasties of Uranus, Saturn, and Jove are plainly indicated, though who first threw this light on a passage certainly obscure, I cannot say. So far as I can see, it was Shutz. The Scholiast (A in Butler) talks of the Titans and Typhon, which is, at all events, on the right scent Neither Abresch nor Stan. seem to have understood the passage; and Potter, disdaining to take a hint from the old Scholiast, generalises away about humanity.

  [Note 20 (p 48).]

  • “Our hearts with gracious force.”

  
  
  The βιαίως certainly refers to the χάρις, and not to the ημένων, with the diluted sense of pollenter given it by Well.; and in this view I have no objection, with Blomfield and Con., to read βίαιος. I am not, however, so sure as Con. that the common reading is wrong. βιαίως may be an abrupt imperfectly enunciated expression (and there are not a few such in Æschylus) for exercising or using compulsion. Poets are not always the most accurate of grammarians.

  [Note 21 (p. 48).]

  • “In Aulis tides hoarse refluent.”

  
  
  The harbour of Aulis, opposite Euboea the district still called Ulike—(Wordsworth’s Athens and Attica, c I.). In narrow passages of the sea, as at Corryvreckan, on the west coast of Scotland, there are apt to be strong eddies and currents; and this is specially noted of the channel between Aulis and Chalcis, by Livy (XXVIII. 6. haud facile aita infestior classi statio est) and other passages adduced by But. in Peile.

  [Note 22 (p. 49).]

  • “Is the gods’ right. So be it.”

  
  
  I am unable to see how the translation of this passage, given by Sym. agrees with the context and with the spirit of Agamemnon’s conduct, and the view of it taken by the poet. Sym. says—

  • “They’re not her parents, they may call aloud
  • For the dire rite to smoothe the stormy flood
  • All fierce and thirsty for a virgin’s blood.”

  And Droysen, though more literally, says the same thing—“Dass sie das windstillende Suhnopfer, das jungfrauliche Blut heischen und schreien, ist es denn recht? Nein, sieg das Gute!” and Fr. also takes θέμις out of Agamemnon’s mouth, and gives it to the Greeks. “Finden sie recht. Zum Heil sey’s!” Perhaps the reason for preferring this version with the Germans lies in giving too great a force and prominence to the μετέγνω in the following strophe. But this may refer only to the change of a father’s instinctive feelings (expressed by silence only in this ode) to the open resolution of making common cause with the diviner and the chieftain.

  [Note 23 (p. 49).]

  • “. . . Unblissful blew the gale
  • That turned the father’s heart.”

  
  
  These words include both the τροπαίαν and the μετέγνω of the original. I join βρότους or βρότοις with the following clause, the sense being the same according to either reading. The verb θρασύνει, according to Con.’s very just reasoning, seems grammatically to require βρότους, though Fr. says, with a reference to Bernhardy, that βρότοις may be defended. Sym. has given a translation altogether different; though he admits that the sense given in my version, and in all the modern versions, is the most obvious one. His objection to connecting βρότους with the following sentence I do not understand.

  [Note 24 (p 49).]

  • “. . . consecrate
  • His ships for Troy.”

  
  
  προτέλεια ναωˆν, First fruits, literally, as Sew. has it, will scarcely do here; “first piation of the wind-bound fleet” of Sym. is very good. Humb., Droy., and Fr. all use Weihe in different combinations; a word which seems to suit the present passage very well, and I have accordingly adopted the corresponding English term.

  [Note 25 (p. 49)]

  • “Where prone and spent she lies.”

  
  
  παντὶ θυμῷ προνωπη̂, literally “prone with her whole soul;” “body and soul,” as Con. has it. The words are so arranged that it is impossible to determine to what παντὶ θυμῳ refers, whether to the general action λαβεɩ̂ν, or to the special position προνωπη̂ Sewell’s remark that “there is far more intensity of thought in applying παντὶ θυμῷ to λαβεɩ̂ν,” may be turned the other way. The phrase certainly must give additional intensity to whichever word it is joined with. The act itself is sufficiently cruel, without adding any needless traits of ferocity.

  [Note 26 (p 49).]

  • “. . . her saffron robe
  • Sweeping the ground.”

  
  
  κρόκου βαϕὰς εις πέδον χέουσα; “dropping her saffron veil,” says Sym.; perhaps rightly, but I see no ground for certainty. The application of κρόκου βαϕὰς to the drops of blood seems a modern idea, which has proceeded from some critic who had not poetry enough to understand the application of χεόυσα to anything but a liquid Except in peculiar circumstances, the word κρόκος, as Con. justly observes (see note 73 below), cannot be applied to the blood; and, in the present passage, it is plain the final work of the knife is left purposely undescribed.

  [Note 27 (p. 49).]

  • “The virgin strain they heard.”

  
  
  I cannot sufficiently express my astonishment that Humb., Droy., and Fr., as if it were a point of Germanism, have all conspired to wrench the ἐτίμα out of its natural connection in this beautiful passage, and to apply the whole concluding clause to the self-devotion of Iphigenia at the altar, rather than to her dutiful obedience at the festal scene just described The fine poetical feeling of Sym protested against this piece of tastelessness. “These commentators,” says he, “seem to have been ignorant of the poet’s intention, who raises interest, pity, and honor to the height, by presenting Iphigenia at the altar, and unveiling herself preparatory to her barbarous execution, on which point of the picture he dwells, contrasting her present situation with her former happiness, her cheerfulness, her songs, and the festivities in her father’s house.” It is strange that the Germans do not see that ἔυποτμον ἀιωˆνα is the most unfortunate of all terms to apply to the condition of Agamemnon, as a sacrificer; while it is most pertinent to his previous fortunes, before his evil destiny began to be revealed in the sacrifice of his beloved daughter.

  [Note 28 (p. 50).]

  • “. . . What boots
  • To forecast woe, which, on no wavering wing.”

  
  
  It is both mortifying and consoling to think that all the learning which has been expended on this corrupt passage from Δίκα down to ἀυγαɩ̂ς, brings out nothing more than what already lies in the old Scholiast. As to the details of the text, I wish I could say, with the same confidence as Con., that Well. and Her’s σύνορθρον ἀυγαɩ̂ς is a bit more certain than Fr.’s σύναρθρον ἀταις, which, however, I am inclined to prefer, from its agreeing better with the general sombre hue of the ode.

  [Note 29 (p. 50).]

  • “Ever swift
  • Though wingless, Fame.”

  
  
  ἄπτερος is an epithet by negation after a fashion not at all uncommon in the Greek drama; the meaning being, though fame is not a bird, and has no wings, yet it flies as fast as if it had. The idea that ἄπτερος is the same as πτερωτὸς I agree with Con. is the mere expedient of despair. I have not the slightest doubt that Rumour is called a wingless messenger, just as Dust is called a voiceless messenger in the Seven against Thebes. Sym. is too subtle in explaining ἄπτερος after the analogy of the beautiful simile in Virgil, Æneid V. 215, so swift as not to appear to move its wings.

  [Note 30 (p. 51).]

  • “. . . He from Ida shot the spark.”

  
  
  The geographical mountain points in the following famous descriptive passages are as follows: (1) Mount Ida, near Troy, (2) the Island of Lemnos, in the Ægean, half-way between Asia and Europe, due West; (3) Mount Athos, the South point of the most Easterly of the three peninsulas that form the South part of Macedonia; (4) a station somewhere betwixt Athos and Bœotia, which the poet has characterised only by the name of the Watchman Macistus; (5) the Messapian Mount, West of Anthedon in the North of Bœotia; (6) Mount Cithœron, in the South of Bœotia; (7) Mount Aegiplanctus, between Megara and Corinth; (8) Mount Arachne, in Argolis, between Tiryns and Epidaurus, not far from Argos.

  [Note 31 (p. 51).]

  • “ . . the forward strength
  • Of the far-travelling lamp strode gallantly.”

  
  
  I have not had the courage with Sym. to reject the πρὸς ἡδονὴν and supply a verb The phrase is not colloquial, as he says, but occurs, as Well. points out, in Prom. 492. Medwyn has “crossing the breast of ocean with a speed plumed by its joy” That there is some blunder in the passage the want of a verb seems to indicate, but, with our present means, it appears wise to let it alone; not, like Fr., from a mere conjecture, to introduce ἰχθνˆς for ἰσχύς, and translate—

  • “Und fern hin dass der Wanderflamme heller Schein,
  • In lust die Fische auf des Meeres Rücken trieb”

  Are we never to see an end of these extremely ingenious, but very useless conjectures?

  [Note 32 (p 51).]

  • “Weaving the chain unbroken.”

  
  
  μη κατιζεσθαι—Heath. The true reading not to be discovered.

  [Note 33 (p. 51).]

  • “. . . a mighty beard of flame”

  
  
  The Hindoos in their description of the primeval male who, with a thousand heads and a thousand faces, issued from the mundane egg, use the same image—“the hairs of his body are trees and plants, of his head the clouds, of his beard, lightning, and his nails are rocks.”—Colonel Vans Kennedy, Ch. VIII. Our translators generally (except Sew. and Con.) have eschewed transplanting this image literally into English; and even the Germans have stumbled, Fr. giving Feuersaule most unhappily. Droy., when he says “Schweife,” gives the true idea, but I am not afraid to let the original stand.

  [Note 34 (p 51).]

  • “. . . the headlands that look down
  • On the Saronic gulf.”

  
  
  I see no proof that πρωˆν ever means anything but a promontory, and so cannot follow Con. in reading κάτοπτρον.

  [Note 35 (p. 51).]

  • “Each from the other fired with happy news,” etc.

  
  
  An allusion to the famous λαμπαδηϕορία, or torch race, practised by the Greeks at the Parthenon and other festivals. In this race a burning torch was passed from hand to hand, so that, notwithstanding the extreme celerity of the movement, the flame might not go out. See the article by Liddell in the Dict. Antiq. where difficulties in the detail are explained.

  [Note 36 (p. 52).]

  • “To their hearts’ content.”

  
  
  The reading of Well. and the MS ὡς δυσδαίμονες will never do, though Med. certainly has shown genius by striking out of it

  • “Soundly as mariners when the danger’s past
  • They sleep”

  The connection decidedly requires ωˆς ε̂υδαιμονες, neither more nor less than “to their hearts’ content,” as I have rendered it. But one would almost be reconciled to the sad state of the text of Æschylus, if every difficulty were cleared with such a masterly bound as Med. here displays. The Germans, Fr. and Dr., incapable, or not liking such capers, adhere to the simple ε̂υδαίμονες. Humb., according to his general practice, follows the captainship of Hermann, and gives “Gotterngleich (ὡς δε δαίμονες).”

  [Note 37 (p 52)]

  • “. . . Happy if the native gods
  • They reverence.”

  
  
  This sober fear of the evil consequences of excess in the hour of triumph, so characteristic a trait of ancient poetry, and purposely introduced here by Clytemnestra to serve her own purpose, finds an apt illustration in the conduct of Camillus at the siege of Veii, as reported by Livy (V. 21)—
  
  “Ad prædam miles permissu dictatoris discurnt Quæ quum ante oculos ejus aliquantum spe atque opinione major majorisque pretii rerum ferretur, dicitur, manus ad cœlum tollens precatus esse, ut si cui deorum hominumque nimia sua fortuna populique Romani videretur, ut eam invidiam lenire quam minimo suo privato incommodo, publicoque populo Romano liceret

  [Note 38 (p. 52).]

  • “Having turned the goal.”

  
  
  The reader is aware that in the ancient racecourse there was a meta, or goal, at each end of the course, round which the racers turned round (metaque fervidis evitata rotis.—Hor. Carm I. 1; and Æneid V. 129).

  [Note 39 (p. 52).]

  • “If they have sinned.”

  
  
  ἀμπλακητος. In defence of this reading, which, with Well., I prefer, Con. has a very excellent note, to which I refer the critical reader. Fr., following Ahrens (as he often does), makes a bold transposition of the lines, but the sense remains pretty much the same As to the guilt incurred by the Greeks, spoken of here and in the previous lines, the poet has put it, as some palliation of her own contemplated deed, into the mouth of Clytemnestra, but in perfect conformity also with the Homeric thelogy, which supposes that suffering must always imply guilt. Thus in the Odyss. III. 130-135, old Nestor explains to Telemachus.—

  • “But when Priam’s high-perched city by the Greeks was captured, then
  • In their swift ships homeward sailing, they were scattered by a god,
  • To the Greeks great Jove had purposed in his heart a black return,
  • For not all bad understanding, and not all observant lived
  • Of Justice”

  [Note 40 (p. 53).]

  • “The gods are blind.”

  
  
  I cannot here forbear recalling to the reader’s recollection a similar passage in Milton:—

  • “Just are the ways of God
  • And justifiable to men,
  • Unless there be who think not God at all.
  • If any be, they walk obscure
  • For of such doctrine never was there school,
  • But the heart of the fool,
  • And no man therein doctor but himself.”
  • —Samson Agonistes.

  [Note 41 (p. 53).]

  • “Self-will fell Até’s daughter.”

  
  
  I have here paraphrased a little the two lines—

  • βια̂ται δ’ἁ τάλαινα πειθὼ
  • προβουλόπαις ἄϕερτος Ἄτας—

  in which two evil powers are personified—Ate, destruction, and Peitho, persuasion, which here must be understood of that evil self-persuasion, by which, in the pride of self-will and vain confidence, a man justifies his worst deeds to himself, and is driven recklessly on to destruction. The case of Napoleon, in his Russian expedition, is in point. What follows shows that Paris is meant As to the strange, truly Æschylean compound, προβουλόπαις, Con says well, that the simple πρόβουλος means “one who joins in a preliminary vote,” and, of course, the compound is, as Lin has it, a “forecounselling child”

  [Note 42 (p. 54).]

  • “Even as a boy in wanton sport.”

  
  
  There is a great upheaping of incongruous images in this passage for which, perhaps, the poet may be blamed; as the one prevents the other from coming with a vivid and distinct impression on the mind. This image of the boy chasing the butterfly is, however, the one which places the inconsiderate love of Paris and Helen most distinctly before us, and it comes, therefore, with peculiar propriety, preceded by the more general and vague images, and immediately before the mention of the offender.

  [Note 43 (p. 54)]

  • “The prophets of the house loud wailing.”

  
  
  δόμων προϕη̂ται. I have retained the original word here, because it appears most appropriate to the passage; but the reader must be warned, by a reference to the familiar example in Epist Tit I 12, that with the ancients the characters of poet and prophet were confounded in a way that belongs not at all to our modern usage of the same words. Epimenides of Crete, in fact, to whom the Apostle Paul alludes, was not only a prophet, but also a physician, like Apollo (ἱατρόμαντις, Eumen. v. 62). In the same way the Hebrew word Nabah, prophetess, is applied to Miriam, Exod. xv. 20; and it may well be, that Æschylus, in the true spirit of these old times, and also following the deep religious inspiration of his Muse, alludes here to a character more sacred than the Homeric ἀοιδὸς, Minstrel or Bard, and this distinction should, of course, be preserved in the translation Sew. with great happiness, in my opinion, has given “the bards of fate;” but it were useless to press any such nice matter in this passage, especially when we call to mind the high estimation in which the Homeric ἀοιδὸς stands in the Odyss, and the remarkable passage, III. 267, where a minstrel is represented as appointed by Agamemnon to counsel and control Clytemnestra in his absence, pretty much as a family confessor would do in a modern Roman Catholic family

  [Note 44 (p. 54)]

  • “He silent stood in sadness, not in wrath.”

  
  
  Here commences one of the most difficult, and at the same time one of the most beautiful passages in the Agamemnon. The words,

  • πάρεστι σιγα̂ς’, ἄτιμος, ἀλόιδορος
  • ἅδιστος ἀϕἐμένων ἰδεɩ̂ν,

  are so corrupt, that a translator is quite justified in striking that sense out of them which is most fit on grounds of taste, and in this view I have little hesitation in adopting Hermann’s reading,

  [Note 45 (p. 56).]

  • “The bolt from on high shall blast his eye.”

  
  
  “Peile greatly admires Klausen’s interpretation”—

  • “Jacitur oculis a Jove fulmen,”

  but the passages which the latter adduce are not to the point. The Greeks do not attribute any governing virtue to the eyes of the gods, further than this, that the immortal beings who are supposed to govern human affairs must see, and take cognizance of them. Jupiter’s eye may glare like lightning, but the real lightning is always hurled from his hand. Compare Soph. Antiq 157 The words βάλλεται ὄσσοις Λιόθεν can bear no other sense naturally than “is flashed in the eyes from Jove.”—Con.

  [Note 46 (p. 57)]

  • “Where women wield the spear.”

  
  
  The spear (δόρυ) is with the Greeks the regular emblem of war, as the sword is with us; so a famous warrior in Homer is δουρικλυτὸς, a famous spearman, and a warrior generally ἀιχμητὴς. Further, as in the heroic or semi-civilized age, authority presents itself, not under the form of law and peaceful order, so much as under that of force and war, the spear comes to be a general emblem of authority; so in the present passage. St. Paul’s language, Rom xiii. 4, the magistrate weareth not the sword (μάχαιραν) in vain, gives the modern counterpart of the Æschylean phraseology.

  [Note 47 (p 57).]

  • “. . . our healer from much harm.”

  
  
  παιώνιος. I have no hesitation whatever in leaving Well. here, much as I generally admire his judicious caution. “Ἀγώνίους in the next line,” says Con, “at once convicts the old reading of tautology, and accounts for its introduction.” When a clear cause for a corrupt reading is shown by a natural wandering of the eye, I see no wisdom in obstinately adhering to a less appropriate reading. The emendation originated, according to Peile, with a writer in the Classical Journal; and was thence adopted by Scholefield, Peile, Con., and Franz, who names Ahrens as its author. Linw. also calls it “very probable.”

  [Note 48 (p. 57).]

  • “. . . ye sun-fronting gods.”

  
  
  δαίμονες ἀντήλιοτ. Med. has given the words a special application—

  • “Ye images of our gods that stand
  • Before the eastern gate.”

  But I suppose the reference may be only to the general custom of placing the statues of the gods in open public places, and in positions where they might front the sun.—See Hesychius and Tertullian, quoted by Stan.

  [Note 49 (p. 58).]

  • “His pledge is forfeited.”

  
  
  I agree with Con. that the juridical language used in the previous line fixes down the meaning of ρυσίου here beyond dispute; which meaning, indeed—ἐνέχυρον, a pledge or gage, is that given by the Scholiast on Iliad XI. 674. Stan. enounces this clearly in his Notes; only there is no need of supposing, with him, that the gage means Helen, or any one else. ’Tis merely a juridical way of saying that Paris was worsted in battle—he has forfeited his caution-money.

  [Note 50 (p. 59).]

  • “These spoils, a shining grace, there to remain
  • An heritage for ever.”

  
  
  The word ἀρχαɩ̂ον in this version seems most naturally to have a prospective reference, to express which a paraphrase seems necessary in English; but a similar use of Vetustas is common in Latin.—Cic. Attic. XIV. 9, pro-Mil. 35. Virgil’s Æneid X. 792. Sew. takes it retrospectively; thus

  • “Unto their ancient homes in Hellas land
  • A pride and joy.”

  [Note 51 (p. 60).]

  • “No more than dyer’s art can tincture brass.”

  
  
  χαλκονˆ βαϕὰς. One cannot dye a hard impenetrable substance, like copper or brass, by the mere process of steeping, as may be done with a soft substance like cloth. Clytemnestra seems to say that her ears are impenetrable in the same way. So Sym., Con., Sew.; and I have little doubt as to this being the true meaning—but should we not read χαλκὸς more than the brass knows dyeing?

  [Note 52 (p. 60).]

  • “Far from the honors of the blissful gods.”

  
  
  χωρὶς ἡ τιμὴ θεωˆν. I translate so, simply because this rendering seems to lie most naturally in the words, when interpreted by the immediately preceding context. The other translation which I originally had here,

  • “To every god his separate hour belongs
  • Of rightful honor,”

  seems to spring from the contrast of the “pæan to the Furies” mentioned below, with the hymns of joyful thanksgivings to the gods that suit the present occasion. But when the term “gods” is used generally on a joyful occasion, it seems more agreeable to Greek feeling to interpret it as excluding than as including the Furies. The hymns in the Eumenides show that they were considered as a dreadful power in the background, rather than prominent figures in the foreground of Hellenic polytheism But, however this be, the more obvious key to such a doubtful passage is surely that of the train of thought which immediately precedes.

  [Note 53 (p. 61).]

  • “Fire and the sea, sworn enemies of old,” etc.

  
  
  This passage, in the original, boils with a series of high-sounding words, δυσλύμαντα, κεροτοπούμεναι, [Editor: illegible character]μβροκτύπῳ, extremely characteristic both of the general genius of the poet and the special subject of poetic description. I have endeavoured, according to the best of my ability, not to lose a single line of this powerful painting; but, as it is more than likely I may have missed some point, or brought it feebly out, I would refer the reader to the able versions of Sym. and Med., which are very good in this place. About the κακὸς ποιμὴν, whether it refer to the whole tempest, as Sym. makes it, or to a part of it (στρόβος) as in my version, there can be no doubt, I think, that here ποιμὴν can mean nothing but “pilot,” as in the Persian ποιμάνωρ means a commander There can be no objection to retaining the word “shepherd,” but I do not like Con.’s “demon-swain” at all. It seems to me to bring in a foreign, and somewhat of a Gothic idea.

  [Note 54 (p. 61).]

  • “That ocean hell.”

  
  
  ἄδην πόντιον, I took this from Med. and give him a thousand thanks for supplying me with so literal, and yet so admirable a translation. Sym. is also excellent here, though, as usual, too fine—

  • “O how the day looked lovely, when ashore
  • We crawled, escaped from the watery jaws
  • Of a sea death.”

  [Note 55 (p. 61).]

  • “Far-labouring o’er the loosely-driving main.”

  
  
  There is a fine word in the original here, σποδουμένου, easily and admirably rendered by Fr.—serstaubt—but to express which I have found myself forced to have recourse to a cognate idea. The main idea is dispersion and diffusion, to drive about like dust, or, perhaps, the meaning may be, to rub down to dust —See Passow. In the present passage the context makes the former meaning preferable.

  [Note 56 (p. 61).]

  • “By Jove’s devising.”

  
  
  The reader will note here the supreme controlling power of Jove, forming, as it were, a sort of monotheistic keystone to the many-stoned arch of Hellenic Polytheism. Μηχαναɩ̂ς Διὸς here is just equivalent to our phrase by Divine interposition, or, by the interposition of Divine Providence, or the supreme moral superintendence of Jove.

  [Note 57 (p. 62).]

  • “Helen the taker!”

  
  
  There is an etymological allusion in the original here, concerning which see the Notes to the Prometheus Bound, v 85. The first syllable of Helen’s name in Greek means to take, from ἁιρέω 2 aor [Editor: illegible character]ιλον. “No one who understands the deep philosophy of Æschylus and his oriental turn of thought will suspect the play upon the name of Helen to be a frigid exercise of wit,” says Sew., who has transmuted the pun into English in no bad fashion thus—

  • “Helen, since as suited well
  • Hell of nations, heroes’ hell,
  • Hell of cities, from the tissued
  • Harem-chamber veils she issued”

  [Note 58 (p 62).]

  • “. . . giant Zephyr”

  
  
  I see no reason why so many translators, from Stan downward, should have been so fond to render γίγαντος “earth-born” here, as if there were any proof that any such genealogical idea was hovering before the mind of the poet when he used the word. I entirely agree with Con. that the notion of strength may have been all that was intended (as, indeed, we find in Homer the Zephyr always the strongest wind), and, therefore, I retain the original word. Sym Anglicising, after his fashion, says, not inaptly—

  • “Fanned by Zephyr’s buxom gales,”

  and Con. changes giant into Titan, perhaps wisely, to avoid certain ludicrous associations.

  [Note 59 (p 62).]

  • “Kin but not kind.”

  
  
  Another etymological allusion; κ[Editor: illegible character]δος meaning both kin and care.Sew. has turned it differently—

  • “And a marriage truly hight,
  • A marjoy,” etc

  Harf, does not relish this “absurd punning” at all, and misses it out in this place; so also Potter; but I agree altogether with Sew. that “there is nothing more fatal to any poet than to generalize his particularities.” Shakespere also puts puns into his most serious passages; a peculiarity which we must even tolerate like an affected way of walking or talking in a beautiful woman; though, for the reason stated in the note to the Prometheus, above referred to, the ancient, when he puns upon proper names, is by no means to be considered as an offender against the laws of good taste, in the same way as the modern.

  [Note 60 (p 63).]

  • “A servant of Até, a priest of Ruin.”

  
  
  Até the goddess of destruction, already mentioned (p 53), and whose name has been naturalized in English by the authority of Shakespere. In Homer ατη appears (1) as an infatuation of mind leading to perdition; (2) as that perdition effected; (3) as an allegorical personage, eldest born of Jove, the cause of that infatuation of mind and consequent perdition (II. XIX. v. 91). In the tragedians, [Editor: illegible character]τη is more habitually clothed with a distinct and prominent personality.

  [Note 61 (p 64).]

  • “A haughty heart.”

  
  
  In a passage hopelessly corrupt, and where no two editors agree in the reading, I have necessarily been reduced to the expedient of translating with a certain degree of looseness from the text of the MSS. as given by Well. Through this text, broken and disjointed as it is, the meaning glimmers with a light sufficient to guide the reader, who wishes only to arrive at the idea, without aspiring at the reconstitution of the lost grammatical form of the text, and it is a satisfaction to think that all the translators, from Pot. to Con, however they may vary in single phrases, give substantially the same idea, and in a great measure the same phrase. This idea, a most important one in the Greek system of morals, is well expressed by Sym. in his note on this place—“The Chorus here moralizes and dwells on the consequences to succeeding generations of the crimes of their predecessors. He traces, as it were, a moral succession, handed down from father to son, where one transgression begets another as its inevitable result. The first parent stock was ‘[Editor: illegible character]βρις’ a spirit of insolence or insubordination, breaking out into acts of outrage, the forerunner of every calamity in a Grecian republic, against which the philosophers and tragedians largely declaimed. They denounced it as well from a principle of policy as a sentiment of religion. In short, the poet treats here of the moral concatenation of cause and effect, the consequence to the descendants of their progenitors’ misconduct, operating either by the force of example or of hereditary disposition, which in the mind of the Chorus produces the effect of an irresistible fatality.”—I may mention that I have retained the original word δάιμων in its English form “demon,” this being, according to my feeling, one of the few places where the one can be used for the other without substituting a modern, and, therefore, a false idea.

  [Note 62 (p. 65).]

  • “Fawn with watery love.”

  
  
  νˆδαρεɩ̂ σάινειν ϕιλότητι. This is one of those bold dramatic touches which mark the hand of a Shakespere, or an Æschylus, and, by transmuting or diluting which, the translator, in my opinion, commits a capital sin. Harf., with his squeamish sensibility, has slurred over the whole passage, and even Fr., like all Germans, an advocate for close translation, gives the rapid generality of “trugend,” Med., from carelessness, I hope, and not from principle, has sinned in the same way, and Kennedy likewise; but I am happy in having both Con. and Sym. for my companions, when I retain a simile which is as characteristic of my author as a crooked beak is of an eagle. This note may serve for not a few similar cases, where the nice critic will do well to consult the Greek author before he blames the English translator.

  [Note 63 (p. 67).]

  • “He might have boasted of a triple coil.”

  
  
  I consider it quite legitimate in a translator, where critical doctors differ, and where decision is difficult or impossible, to embody in his version the ideas of both parties, where that can be done naturally, and without forcing, as in the present instance. It seems to me on the one hand that την κάτω γὰρ όυ λέγω has more pregnancy of expression when applied to the dead Geryon, than when interpreted of the earth; and, on the other hand, I cannot think with Sym. that the expression τρίμοιρον χλαɩ̂ναν, when applied to the earth, is “rank nonsense” There are many phrases in Æschylus that, if translated literally, sound very like nonsense in English The parenthetic clause “of him below I speak not,” is added from a superstitious feeling, to avoid the bad omen of speaking of a living person as dead. So Well. and Sym., and this appears the most natural qualification in the circumstances.

  [Note 64 (p. 7).]

  • “Thy Phocian spear-guest”

  
  
  Speaking of the era of the great Doric migration with regard to Megara, Bishop Thirlwall (Hist. Greece, c. VII.) writes as follows:—“Megara itself was, at this time, only one, though probably the principal, among five little townships which were independent of each other, and were not unfrequently engaged in hostilities, which, however, were so mitigated and regulated by local usage as to present rather the image than the reality of war. They were never allowed to interrupt the labours of the husbandman. The captive taken in these feuds was entertained as a guest in his enemy’s house, and when his ransom was fixed, was dismissed before it was paid. If he discharged his debt of honour he became, under a peculiar name (δορύξενος), the friend of his host; a breach of the compact dishonoured him for life both among the strangers and his neighbours—a picture of society which we could scarcely believe to have been drawn from life, if it did not agree with other institutions which we find described upon the best authority as prevailing at the same period in other parts of Greece.”

  [Note 65 (p 69).]

  • “Come, boy, unbind these sandals”

  
  
  This passage will at once suggest to the Christian reader the well-known passage in Exod. iii. 5, “take off thy shoes from thy feet, for the ground where thou standest is holy ground,” which Ken. aptly adduces, and compares it with Lev. xxx. 19, and Juvenal Sat. VI. 159—

  • “Observant ubi fests mero pede Sabbata reges,”

  and other passages. In the same way the hand held up in attestation before a bench of grave judges, according to our modern usage, must be ungloved.

  [Note 66 (p 69)]

  • “Jove, Jove the perfecter! perfect thou my vow.”

  
  
  Ζενˆ τέλειε I see no reason in the connection of this passage to give the epithet of τέλειος a special allusion to Jove, as along with Juno, the patron of marriage. Blom., Peile, and among the translators, Med and Ken. take this view. But Pot., Sym., Con., Fr., Voss., and Droys content themselves with the more obvious and general meaning. It is not contended, I presume, by any one that the epithet τέλειος, when applied to Jove, necessarily refers to marriage, independently of the context, as for instance in Eumen. 28. The origin of the epithet may be seen in Homer, Il. IV. 160-168, etc.

  [Note 67 (p. 69).]

  • “. . . unbidden and unhired”

  
  
  “Poor Louis! With them it is a hollow phantasmagoria, where, like mimes, they mope and mow, and utter false sounds for hire, but with thee it is frightful earnest.”—Carlyle’s French Revolution, the ancient and the modern, with equal felicity, alluding to the custom prevalent in ancient times of hiring women to mourn for the dead. We must also note, however, that there is an example here of that spontaneous prophecy of the heart by god-given presentiment, which is so often mentioned in Homer. The ancients, indeed, were the furthest possible removed from that narrow conception of a certain modern theology, which confines the higher influences of inspiration to a privileged sacerdotal order. In St. Paul’s writings, the whole Church prophesies; and so in Homer the fair Helen, who had no pretensions to the character of a professional soothsayer, pre faces her interpretation of an omen by saying,

  • “Hear my word, as in my heart the immortal gods suggest the thought,
  • I will read the omen rightly, as the sure event shall show”
  • Odys. XV. 172

  The words used by Homer to express this action of the divine on the human mind are βάλλειν ὑποτίθεσθαι, and such like, to throw into, and to put under, or suggest.

  [Note 68 (p. 70).]

  • “Unloosed their cables from the shore.”

  
  
  I have not been curious in rendering this passage, as the word παρήβησεν is hopelessly corrupt; but the general notion of my translation is taken from Sym.’s note.

  [Note 69 (p 71).]

  • “. . Were link with link
  • In the chain of things not bound together.”

  
  
  ἐι δὲ μὴ τεταγμένα μοɩ̂ρα κ. τ. λ. In my opinion, Sym., Con., and Peile, are wrong in giving a different meaning to μοɩ̂ραν from that which they assign to μοɩ̂ρα immediately preceding. In such phrases as “truditur dies die” (Horace) and “Day uttereth speech unto day,” the reader naturally attaches the same idea to the same word immediately repeated. The literal translation of this passage, “if by the ordinance of the gods ordered Fate did not hinder Fate,” seems merely to express the concatenation of things by divine decree as given in my version. Sym’s version is—

  • “I pause Some Fate from Heaven forbids
  • The Fate within to utter more,
  • Else had my heart outrun my tongue,
  • And poured the torrent o’er.”

  Med. gives three lines substantially identical with mine—

  • “Nor would I counteract the laws of Heaven,
  • My heart would chain my tongue, e’en were it given
  • To drag the secret of the Fates to the day”

  [Note 70 (p. 71).]

  • “. . . the household altar.”

  
  
  κτησίου βωμονˆ. Literally, the altar of our family wealth or possession. In the same way, Jove, the supreme disposer of all human wealth, is called Ζεὺς κτήσιος, possessory Jove. See the Suppliants, v. 440—my translation.

  [Note 71 (p. 72)]

  • “My way-god, my leader Apollo!”

  
  
  “Agyieus (from ἀγυιὰ, a way), a surname of Apollo, describing him as the protector of the streets and public places As such he was worshipped at Acharnæ, Mycenæ, and Tegea”—Dr. Schmitz, in the Mythol. Dict. In the same way, by ενοδιον θεὰν (Soph. Antig. 1200), or “the way goddess,” is understood Hecate The Hindoos make their god Pollear perform a similar function, placing his image in all temples, streets, highways, and, in the country, at the foot of some tree, that travellers may make their adorations and offerings to him before they pursue their journey.—Sonnerat in notes to the Curse of Kehama, Canto V.

  [Note 72 (p. 73).]

  • “Apollo, my leader, whither hast thou led me?”

  
  
  In this Antistrophe, and the preceding Strophe, there is one of those plays on the name of the god addressed, which appear inappropriate to us, but were meant earnestly enough by the ancients, accustomed to deal with an original language from which the significancy of proper names had not been rubbed away.—See note on Prometheus, v. 85. Besides this, there was naturally a peculiar significancy attached to the names of the gods —See note 18, p. 338, above. In the present passage the first pun is on the name Απόλλων, Apollo, and the verb ἀπόλλυμι, which signifies to destroy) so the Hebrew Abaddon from Abad, he perished.—Apoc. ix. 11), a function of the Sun god familiar enough to the Greek mind, from the description of the pestilence in the opening scene of the Iliad. The second pun is on the title ἀγυιεὺς, leader, or way-god, concerning which see previous note. I have here, as in the case of Helen and Prometheus (v. 85), taken the simple plan of explaining the epithet in the text. The translator who will not do this must either, like Con. and Sym, leave the play on the words altogether unperceptible to the English reader, or, like Sew, be driven to the necessity of inventing a new pun, which may not always be happy English, and is certainly not Greek, thus—

  • “Apollo! Apollo!
  • Leader! appaller mine!
  • Yea! for the second time thou hast with ease
  • Appalled me, and destroyed me.”

  [Note 73 (p 74).]

  • “The blithe blood, that crimson ran
  • In my veins, runs pale and wan”

  
  
  With this Sym aptly compares a passage from the speech of Theodosius in Massinger’s Emperor of the East—

  • “What an earthquake I feel in me!
  • And on the sudden my whole fabric totters;
  • My blood within me turns, and through my veins
  • Parting with natural redness, I discern it
  • Changed to a fatal yellow”

  Even more strongly expressed than in our Greek poet, perhaps a little too strongly, the words, I discern it, certainly not improving the passage. Harf., as is his fashion, fears to follow the boldness of his author, and translates—
  
  

  • “The ruddy drop is curdling at my heart.”

  And in the same spirit Fr. gives dunkelroth.

  [Note 74 (p 74).]

  • “As when in the mortal anguish.”

  
  
  Sym. takes his stand too confidently on a corrupt text, when he says, “Pot. has entirely omitted the fallen warrior bleeding drop by drop, which is, as it were, introduced into the background by the poet to aggravate the gloom of the picture.” I read καιρία with Dind., Con., Linw., and Fr., with which single word the fallen warrior disappears, who comes in, even in Sym.’s version, rather abruptly.

  [Note 75 (p. 74).]

  • “. . . she seizes him
  • By the strong black horn.”

  
  
  Harf. finds this rough Homeric trait too strong for him. Med. has—

  • “With her black horn she buts him
  • What is that wrapt round his head?”

  But, though there is some colour for this translation in the old Scholiast, I think the reader will scarcely judge very favourably of it, after considering what Peile and Con. have judiciously said on the point. As for authority, all the translators, except Med. and Hume, from Pot. downwards, English and German, are with me. It is scarcely necessary to remark against Harford’s squeamishness, that the bull in ancient symbolical language (see poets and coins, passim) was an animal in every respect as noble and kingly as the lion and the eagle still remain.

  [Note 76 (p. 75).]

  • “Crieth Itys! Itys! aye.”

  
  
  Procne and Philomele, according to one of the most familiar of old Greek legends, were daughters of Pandion, king of Athens; and one of them having been given in marriage to Tereus, a king of the Thracians, in Daulis, who, after the marriage, offered violence to her sister—the result was, that the wife, in a fit of mad revenge, murdered her own son Itys, and gave his flesh to her husband to eat, and, being afterwards changed into a nightingale, was supposed in her melodious wail continually to repeat the name of this her luckless offspring.

  [Note 77 (p. 75).]

  • “The thick blossoms of its woe”

  
  
  ἀμϕιθαλη̂ κακοɩ̂ς βίον. I hope this expression will not be considered too strong by those who consider as well the general style of our poet, as the ὁρωˆμεν ἀνθουν πέλαγος Ἀιγα̂ιον νεκρο̂ις, v. 645 of this play (see my translation, supra, p. 61), and the μανιας δεινόν ὰποστάζει άνθηρόν τε μένος of Sophocles.—Antig. v. 960.

  [Note 78 (p. 77).]

  • “Soon my reeking heart shall cast.”

  
  
  If the reader thinks this a bold phrase, he must bear in mind that it is Cassandra who speaks, and Æschylus who writes. The translation, indeed, is not literal, but the word “θερμόνους,” as Con. says, “has all the marks of genuineness,” and I was more afraid of weakening it in translation than of exaggerating it. Other translations are—

  • “And I my warm blood soon on earth shall pour.”
  • —Sym
  • “But I shall soon press my hot heart to Earth”
  • —Con
  • “Ich aber stúrze bald zur Erd im heissen Kampf”
  • —Fr.
  • “Ich aber sinke bald im heissen Todeskampf”
  • —Droys.

  [Note 79 (p. 77).]

  • “Waves shall it dash from the west in the sun’s face”

  
  
  “The beauty of this image can only be properly appreciated by those who have observed the extraordinary way in which the waves of the sea appear to rush towards the rising sun.”—English Prose Tr. Oxon.

  [Note 80 (p. 77).]

  • “. . . though I should wedge them
  • As stark as ice?”

  
  
  I read πη̂γμα with Well and the majority of editors and translators. Sym., who is sometimes a little too imperative in his style, calls this to “obtrude an unnecessary piece of frigidity or fustian on Æschylus.” The reader, of course, will judge for himself; but there are many things in our poet more worthy of the term “fustian” than the word πη̂γμα, applied to πρκος.

  [Note 81 (p. 78).]

  • “Implacable breath of curses on her kin.”

  
  
  Well. forgets his usual caution, when he receives ἄρην into his text, and rejects ἀρὰν, the reading of the MS. It is paltry to object to the phrase ἄσπονδον ἀρὰν in an author like Æschylus. Franz receives the emendation of Lobeck, modified into Λρη.

  [Note 82 (p. 80).]

  • “Bravely thou praisest; but the happy hear not
  • Such commendations”

  
  
  I have here, in opposition to Fr., Sym., Med., and even the cautious Well., reverted to the original order of this and the next line, as they appear in the MSS , being chiefly moved by what is said by Con. “The words ἀλλ ἐυκλεωˆς τοι κατθανε̂ιν χάρις βροτῷ could never have been put by Æschylus into the mouth of Cassandra, who is as far as possible from cherishing the common view of a glorious death, and, indeed, shows in her next speech very plainly what feelings such a thought suggests to her.”

  [Note 83 (p. 80)]

  • “Not with vain screaming, like a fluttering bird.”

  
  
  “Fearing a wild beast about its nest,” says the Scholiast; fearing the fowler with “its limed wings,” says Med. The original is short and obscure; but there is no need of being definite; nothing is more common than to see a bird fruitlessly fluttering about a bush, and uttering piteous cries. A fit image of vain lamentation without purpose or result.

  [Note 84 (p. 81).]

  • “. . . From bad to worse
  • Our changes run, and with the worst we end.”

  
  
  This translation is free, because it did not occur to me that the laconism of the Greek, if literally translated, would be sufficiently intelligible. I have no doubt as to the correctness of this version of a passage which is certainly not a little puzzling at first sight. Two phases of human life are spoken of in the previous lines; one is the change from prosperity to adversity, the other, from adversity down to utter ruin and death. The preference expressed in the line καὶ τανˆτ ἒκέινων κ τ.λ. can refer to nothing but these two So Peile and Con.; and there is a terrible darkness of despair about Cassandra’s whole tone and manner, which renders this account of human life peculiarly natural in her parting words.

  [Note 85 (p. 81).]

  • “Who of mortals will not pray.”

  
  
  The line τίς ἀν ἔυξαιτο βροτωˆν ἀσινε̂ι, being deficient in metre, one may either supply ὄυκ, with Canter, which gives the meaning expressed in the text, or, retaining the affirmative form, read βροτός, ὤν, with Both. and Fr., which gives an equally good sense thus—

  • “Who of mortals then may hope
  • To live an unharmed life, when he
  • Fell from such height of honor?”

  so Pot., Med., Humb., Droys., Fr., and Voss.

  [Note 86 (p 81).]

  • “Weave we counsel now together, and concert a sure design.”

  
  
  I follow Müller here in dividing the Chorus among twelve, not fifteen speakers. The internal evidence plainly points to this; and for any external evidence of scholiasts and others in such matters, even if it were uncontradicted, I must confess that I think it is worth very little.

  [Note 87 (p 82).]

  • “So wisely spoken.”

  
  
  Most lame and impotent conclusion!—so the reader has no doubt been all the while exclaiming. Our great poet has here contrived to make one of the most tragic moments of the play consummately ridiculous; and it is in vain to defend him. No doubt, old men are apt enough to be irresolute, and to deliberate, while the decisive moment for action slips through their fingers. So far in character. But why does the poet bring this vacillation so laboriously forward, that it necessarily appears ludicrous? This formal argumentation turns the character of the Chorus into caricature. Nor will it do to say with Con. that this impotent scene was “forced on Æschylus, by the fact of the existence of a Chorus, and the nature of the work he had to do.” A short lyrical ode might have covered worthily that irresolution, which a formal argumentation only exposes. No one blames the Chorus for doing nothing; that is all right enough; but every one must blame the poet for making them talk with such a show of solemn gravity and earnest loyalty about doing nothing.

  [Note 88 (p 82).]

  • “Here, where I struck, I take my rooted stand
  • Upon the finished deed.”

  
  
  The natural attitude of decision. So when Brutus administered the famous oath to the Roman people, “neminem Romæ regnare passuros,” he and his colleagues are described by Dionysius (V. 1) as σταντες ἐπι των τομίων.

  [Note 89 (p. 83).]

  • “Thou hast cast off thou hast cut off
  • Thine own husband.”

  
  
  I have endeavoured to express the repetition of the off three times as in the original; but the Greek is far more emphatic, the repetition taking place in the same line, ἀπέδικες, ἀπέταμες ἀπόπολις δ ἕσῃ.

  [Note 90 (p. 83).]

  • “But mark my words.”

  
  
  There is much difficulty in settling the reading and the construction of the Greek here; but having compared all the translations, I find that, from Pot. down to Mrd and Fr, substantially the same sentiment is educed. Sym. who praises Blom’s arrangement, gives—

  • “Threaten away, for I too am prepared
  • In the like manner Rule me if thou canst,
  • Get by thy band the mastery—rule me then.
  • But if,” etc.

  Well. whom I follow, and who objects to Blom.’s construction, gives— “Jubeo antem te, quum et ego ad similes minas paratas sim, victoria vi reportata, mihi imperare, sin minus, et si contraria Dii perfecerint, damno edoctus sero sapere disces.”

  [Note 91 (p. 84).]

  • “And thine eyes with fatness swell.”

  
  
  I do not know whether I may not have gone too far in retaining the original force of λίπος in this passage I perceive that few of the translators, not even Sew, so curious in etymological translation, keep me in countenance However, I am always very loath to smooth down a strong phrase in Æschylus, merely because the modern ear may think it gross. In this case, I am glad to find that I am supported by Droys.

  • “Ueber dem Auge glänzt fett Dir das Tropfenblüt.”

  though my rendering is a little more free.

  [Note 92 (p. 84).]
  
  Strophe i. In the arrangement of the following lyric dialogue, I have followed But, Blom., and Peile, in opposition to that given by Herm., Well, and Fr., not for any metrical reasons sufficiently strong to influence me either one way or other in constituting the text; but because I find the sense complete and continuous after ννˆν δετελειάν, and this alone is a sufficient reason why I, in my subordinate function of a translator, should not suppose anything to have fallen out of the text in this place. How much, however, we are all in the dark about the matter appears from this, that in the place where Blom. and Peile suppose an immense lacuna, the sense in the mouth of Clytemnestra ννˆν δ’ ὤρθωσας runs on with a continuous allusion to the preceding words of the Chorus. For which reason I have not hinted the existence of an omission, nor is it at all likely that the reader has lost much These are matters which belonged to the ancient symmetrical arrangement of the Chorus before the eyes and ears of the spectators, and which I much fear it it impossible for us, readers of a dry MS., to revive at this time of day.

  [Note 93 (p. 85)]

  • “O god that o’er the doomed Atridan halls.”

  
  
  I am afraid I stand alone, among the translators, in translating δαɩ̂μον in this and similar places, by the English word god; but persuaded as I am that the English words Fiend and Demon are steeped in modern partly Gothic, partly Christian associations of a character essentially opposed to the character and genius of the Greek theology, I choose rather to offend the taste than to confound the judgment of my reader in so important a matter. The Greeks habitually attributed to their gods actions and sentiments, which we attribute only to devils and demons Such beings (in the English sense) were, in fact, altogether unknown to the Greeks. Their gods, as occasion required, performed all the functions of our Devil; so that, to use a familiar illustration, instead of the phrase, what the devil are you about? so familiar to a genuine English ear, the Athenians would have said, what the god are you about? Hence the use of δαιμόνιε in Homer.

  [Note 94 (p. 86).]

  • “The unrelenting old Alastor.”

  
  
  Along with Sym. and Con. I retain the Greek word here, partly from the reason given in the previous note with regard to δαίμων, partly because the word is familiar to many poetical ears from Shelley’s poetry, partly, also, because I take care so to explain it in the context, that it cannot be misunderstood by the English reader The Greek word ἀλάστωρ means an evil genius. Clement of Alexandria, in a passage quoted by Sym. (Protrept c. II.) classes the Alastors of the ancient tragedy with the Furies and other terrible ministers of heaven’s avenging justice. About the etymology of the word the lexicographers and critics are not agreed. Would there be any harm in connecting it with ἀλαστέω (Il. XII. 163), and ἐπαλαστέω (Odys. I. 252), so that it should signify an angry or wrathful spirit.

  [Note 95 (p. 88).]

  • “Falling he fell, and dying died.”

  
  
  I have here taken advantage of a Hebraism familiar, through the pages of the Bible, to the English ear, in order to give somewhat of the force of the fine alliteration in the original κάππεσε, κάτθανε .καὶ καταθάψομεν. In the next three lines I have filled up a blank in the text, by what must obviously have been the import of the lost lines, if, indeed, Paley, Klausen, and Con. are not rather right in not insisting on an exact response of stanza to stanza in the anapæstic systems of the musical dialogue.

  [Note 96 (p. 88).]

  • “While great Jove lives.’

  
  
  μίμνοντος ὲν χρόνῳΔιὸς “The meaning is sufficiently plain, if we do not disturb it by any philosophical notions about the difference between time and cternity.”—Con. The reader will note here the grand idea of retributive justice pursuing a devoted family from generation to generation, and, as it were, entailing misery upon them, concerning which see Sewell’s remarks above, p. 349. Sophocles strikes the same keynote in the choric chaunt of the Antigone, ἀρχαɩ̂α τα Δαβδακιδα̂ν ὄικων ὁρωˆμαι.

  [Note 97 (p. 90).]

  • “. . . in a separate dish concealed
  • Were legs and arms, and the fingers’ pointed tips”

  
  
  Editors have a great difficulty in settling the text here; but there is enough of the meaning visible—especially when the passage is compared with Herod. I. 119, referred to by Schutz—to enable the translator to proceed on the assumption of a text substantially the same as that given by Fr., where the second line is supplied—

  • Τὰ μὲν ποδήρη και χε̂ρων ἄκρους κτένας
  • [Ἔθετο κάτωθεν πὰντα συγκρύψας τὰ δ ἀυ]
  • Ἔθρυπτ ἄνωθεν ὰνδρακὰς καθημένοις
  • Ἄσήμ’ · ὁ δ ἄυτωˆν ἀυτικ’ αγνόιᾳ λαβὼν.

  The reader will observe that in these and such like passages, where, after all the labours of the learned, an uncertainty hangs over the text, I think myself safer in giving only the general undoubted meaning that shines through the passage, without venturing on the slippery ground of translating words of which the proper connection may he lost, or which, perhaps, were not written at all by the poet.

  [Note 98 (p. 90).]

  • “. . . while with his heel he spurned
  • The supper.”

  
  
  I quite agree with Con. that there is not the slightest reason for rejecting the natural meaning of λακτίσμα δείπνου in this passage. Such expressions are quite Æschylean in their character, and the analogy of the feast of Tereus in Ovid, Met VI. 661,

  • “Thracius ingenti mensas clamore repellit,”

  adduced by Con. is very happy. To push the table away, whether with hand or heel, or with both, in such a case, is the most natural action in the world.

  [Note 99 (p. 90).]

  • “And no diviner vends more potent balms
  • To drug a doting wit”

  
  
  I have here expanded the text a little, to express the whole force of the Greek word Ἱατρομάντεις, concerning which see Note to the Eumen. v. 62, below.

  [Note 100 (p. 91).]

  • “Ho! my gallant co-mates, rouse ye!”

  
  
  These two lines in the mouth of the Chorus make a good consecutive sense; but the symmetrical response of line to line, so characteristic of Greek tragedy, has led Herm., Well., and the other editors of note, to suppose that a line from Ægisthus has fallen out between these lines of the Chorus Blanks of this kind, however, the translator will wisely overlook, so long as they do not seriously disturb the sense.

  [* ]See Niebuhr’s Travels (§ 25, c 4), Michaelis’ Commentaries on the Laws of Moses (Art, 135); and Southey’s Thalaba.

  [* ]Dictionary—voce Goel, and Commentaries, § 131

  [* ]Die Thymele in der Orchestra ist durch ein Aschenkrug als Agamemnon’s Grab bezcichnet.—Droysen.

  [* ]Hermes, or Mercury, in his capacity of guide of the dead (ψυχοπομπός) is here called Χθόνιος, or subterranean.

  [* ]Iphigenia.

  [* ]Proserpine.

  [* ]See Note 64 to Agamemnon.

  [* ]Hermes or Mercury. See Notes 55 and 56 above.

  [* ]The Gorgon Medusa.

  [† ]Agamemnon and Electra.

  [* ]The Furies.—See next piece.

  [Note 1 (p 99)]

  • “What power thy father lent.”

  
  
  Jove was regarded as the grand source of the power exercised by all the other gods, even Apollo receiving the gift of prophecy from him. There is a peculiar propriety in the allusion to the father Zeus, as Mercury is requested to perform the same office of σωτήρ or Saviour to Orestes that Jove in a peculiar manner performs to all mankind —See Muller on Zeus Soter. (Eumenides, § 94), whose observations, however, on this particular passage, seem to force an artificial accent on the epithet σώτηρ The opening lines of this piece are wanting in the MSS. and were supplied by Stan. from the Frogs of Aristophanes.

  [Note 2 (p 99)]

  • “* * My early growth of hair
  • To Inachus I vowed.”

  
  
  These words will recall to the student of Homer a passage from the twenty-third book of the Iliad, where an account is given of the funeral ceremonies of Patroclus.

  • “First the horsemen came, and then a cloud of infantry behind,
  • Tens of thousands, his companions bore Patroclus in the midst,
  • And the corpse they sadly covered with the locks which grief had shorn”
  • v. 133-5.

  And again—
  
  

  • “Then another deed devised Achilles godlike, swift of foot,
  • Stationed sad behind the pyre he clipt his locks of yellow hair,
  • Which, luxuriant shed, he cherished to Spercheius’ flowing stream.”
  • v 140-3

  Compare the beautiful passage on the Greek mythology in Wordsworth’s Excursion, Book IV.

  [Note 3 (p 99).]

  • “O Jove, be thou mine aid”

  
  
  Of the high functions which belong to the supreme god of the Greeks, that of avenger is not the least notable, and is alluded to with special frequency in the Odyssey, of which poem, retribution in this life for wicked works is the great moral—whence the frequent line—

  • ἀι κε πόθι Ζεὺς δωˆσι παλίντιτα [Editor: illegible character]ργα γενέσθαι.

  [Note 4 (p. 99)]

  • “And my cheeks, that herald sorrow.”

  
  
  “As these violent manifestations of grief were forbidden by Solon (Plut. 21), we are to look upon them in this place as peculiarly characteristic of the foreign captive maidens who compose the chorus”—Kl.; though the epithet of ἄμϕιδρυϕὴς ἄλοχος applied to the wife of Protesilaus by Homer (Il. ii. 700, xi. 393), shows that, in the heroic times, at least, the expression of sorrow was almost as violent on the west as on the east side of the Hellespont.

  [Note 5 (p. 101).]

  • “And now fear rules.”

  
  
  ϕοβεɩ̂τας δέ τις. “People are afraid, and dare not speak out”—Peile. The abruptness of this passage renders it difficult to see the allusion. Paley gives it quite a different turn. “Sunt qui ob commissi sceleris quo adepts sint magnam fortunam (το ἐυτυχε̂ίν) conscientiam torqueantur.” But I do not think that this rendering agrees so well with the words that follow. The thought seems to be—the world judges by results, and men are content, even in fear, to obey a usurper, who shows his right by his success. This brings out a beautiful contrast to the σέβας, or feeling of loyal reverence that filled the public mind towards Agamemnon, who is alluded to in the first words of the Antistrophe.

  [Note 6 (p 101)]

  • “So filthy hands with blood bedabbled.”

  
  
  I do not see why Well and Kl. should object to πόροι being taken, as the Scholiast hints, for an equivalent to ποταμοὶ. The word simply means “channels,” and in the present connection of purification would naturally explain itself to a Greek ear, as channels of water.Kl.’s rendering of πόρος, ratio expiandae caedis, has no merit but being unpoetical. The ἰονˆσαν ἄτην holds concealed some hopeless blunder; but for the need the κλύσειαν άν μάτην of Fr. may be adopted.

  [Note 7 (p. 101).]

  • “What the masters of my fate
  • In their strength decree.”

  “There is a proverb, Δο̂υλε δεσποτωˆν ἄκουε καὶ δίκαια καὶ αδικα. Slave hear thy master whether right or wrong.” —Scholiast.

  [Note 8 (p 101).]

  • “. . . beneath the veil.”

  
  
  ὑϕ ε̂ιμάτων. Stan quotes the beautiful picture of Telemachus (Odyssey IV. 114), endeavouring to conceal his filial sorrow from the eyes of Menelaus at Sparta—

  • “From his eye the tear-drop fell when he heard his father’s name,
  • And with both his hands before his eyes he held the purple cloak.”

  [Note 9 (p. 102)]

  • “. . . libations pure,
  • Poured on my father’s tomb.”

  
  
  These libations are described in various passages of the Classics, of which the following may suffice.—

  • “Then to all the dead I poured libations, first with honied milk,
  • Then with sweetest wine, and then with water, and I strewed the grains
  • Of whitest meal.”
  • —Odyssey XI. 26
  • “Go, my Hermione, without the door,
  • And these libations take, and take my hair,
  • And, standing over Clytemnestra’s tomb,
  • Milk-mingled honey and the winy foam
  • Pour, and thus speak”
  • —Eurip, Orest 112.
  • “And with the due libation’s triple flow
  • She crowns the corpse”
  • —Soph. Antig, 429.

  The χοα̂ισι πρισπόνδαισι, being the wine, water, and milk, particularised in the above extract from Homer. Compare Virgil’s Æn. V. 78, and St. Augustine’s Confessions vi. 2, with regard to his mother’s offering at the tombs of the martyrs—pultes et panem et merum.

  [Note 10 (p 102)]

  • “. . . as who throws lustral ashes.”

  
  
  καθάρματα. “Ashes of lustral offerings”—Peile. “Alluding to the custom of the Athenians, who, after purifying their houses with incense in an earthen vessel, threw the vessel into the streets, and retired with averted eyes.”—Scholiast.

  [Note 11 (p. 102).]

  • “What other quittance to a foe
  • Than hate repaid with hate, and blow with blow?”

  
  
  Why not? πωˆς δ’ου; how should it be otherwise? Observe, here, how far the Christian rule, love thine enemies, was from the Heathen mind. It is very far yet from our practice; though it is difficult to over-estimate the value of having such ideal moral maxims as those of the New Testament to refer to as a generally recognized standard.

  [Note 12 (p. 103).]

  • “Hermes, that swayest underneath the ground”
  • All the recent editors agree in bringing up the line—
  • κήρυξ μέγιστε των άνω τε καὶ κάτω,

  from v. 162 to this place, where the initial words are plainly wanting. “Hermes is invoked here as the great mediator between the living and the dead.”—Kl. “Herald me in this”—κηρύξας ’εμοι—perform a herald’s function to me in this, the verb chosen with special reference to the name κήρυξ, according to the common practice of the Greek writers. In the second line below, I can have no hesitation in adopting Stan.’s emendation of ὸωμάτων for ομμάτων. Ahrens (in Fr) has tried to make the passage more pregnant by reading ἁιμάτων, but this scarcely seems such an obvious emendation.

  [Note 13 (p 103)]

  • “These words of evil imprecation dire.”

  
  
  This is said to avoid the bad omen of mingling a curse with a blessing. The ancients were very scrupulous as to the use of evil words in religious services, and, when such were either necessary, or had accidentally crept in, they always made a formal apology. This I have expressed more largely than my text warrants in the next line, where I follow Schutz in reading καλη̂ς for κακη̂ς; a correction which, though not absolutely necessary, is sufficiently plausible to justify Blom., Schol., and Pal. in their adoption of it.

  [Note 14 (p. 103)]
  
  Chorus. This chorus seems hopelessly botched in the first half, and all the attempts to mend it are more or less unsatisfactory. If any one think “plashing torrents” a strong phrase, he must know that it is no stronge. than καναχὲς in the original, a word familiar to every student of Homerr The ἐρυμα (or ἐρμα—Herm.), I agree with every interpreter, except Klausen, in applying to the tomb of Agamemnon; of the κακωˆν κεδνωˆν τε, I can make nothing, beyond incorporating the Scholiast’s gloss, ἀπότροπον των ἠμετέρων κακωˆν.

  [Note 15 (p. 104)]
  
  Electra The reader will find in Pot. a somewhat amplified translation of the line here—

  • κήρυξ μεγιστε των άνω τε καὶ κάτω,

  mentioned above as having been thrown back by Hermann to the commencement of Electra’s address over the tomb of her father, immediately preceding the short choral ode. It is literally translated by E. P., Oxon.—
  
  

  • “O mightiest herald of the powers above and below,”

  but comes in quite awkwardly, and manifestly out of place.

  [Note 16 (p. 104).]

  • “. . . a low-zoned maid’s.”

  
  
  βαθυζώνου. “High-bosomed,” Potter; “hochgeschurzt,” Droysen; “deep-bosomed,” E. P., Oxon; “Weib im Festgewand,” Franz. Not having a distinct idea of what is meant by this epithet, I have contented myself with a literal rendering.

  [Note 17 (p. 104).]

  • “If it was clipt
  • From head in Argos, it should be my own.”

  
  
  This passage has given great trouble to commentators, who cannot see how Electra should say that no person but herself could have owned this lock, which yet she knew was not her own. They have, accordingly, at least Lin., Peile, and Pal., adopted Dobrees’ emendation of ἑνος (one person, i e., Orestes), instead of ἐμου, mine, which, though ingenious, does not appear to me at all necessary. Electra means to say, nobody here could have done it but me, and yet it is not mine (this implied); therefore, of course, the conclusion to be made is clear, ἐυξύμβολον τὸδ ἐστι δοξάσαι, it must have been Orestes!

  [Note 18 (p 105).]

  • “. . . But lo! a further proof”

  
  
  Imagine such evidence produced as a step in the chain of circumstantial evidence before a court of justice! Even the perturbed state of Electra’s mind may not redeem it from the charge of being grossly ludicrous. Well. and Fr., with that solemn conscientious gravity for which the Germans are notable, have, however, taken it under their wing, followed here, strangely enough, by Peile If the circumstance is to be defended at all, we had better suppose that Æschylus has given the details of the recognition exactly as he had received them from the old popular legend in the mouth of some story-teller. But why should not the father of tragedy, as well as the father of Epos, sometimes nod?

  [Note 19 (p. 105).]

  • “Pray that fair end may fair beginning follow”

  
  
  This seems to have been a sort of proverbial prayer among the Greeks, used for the sake of a good omen, as we find Clytemnestra, in the Agamemnon (p. 57 above), saying the same thing.

  • [Editor: illegible character]υ γὰρ πρὸς έυ ϕανε̂ισι προσθήκη πελοι.
  • v. 486.

  [Note 20 (p 106)]

  • “ . . behold this web”

  
  
  “The ladies, in the simplicity of ancient times, valued themselves much and, indeed, were highly esteemed, for their skill in embroidery; those rich wrought vests made great part of the wealth of noble houses. Andromache, Helen, and Penelope, were celebrated for their fine work, of which Minerva herself was the patroness, and Dido was as excellent as the best of them.”—Pot. The student will recall a familiar instance from Virgil—

  • “Munera practrea Iliacis crepta ruinis
  • Ferre jubet, pallam signis auroque rigentem
  • Et circumtextum croceo velamen acantho
  • Ornatus Argivae Helenæ.”
  • —Æneid I 651.

  evidently modelled on Odys. xix. 225.

  [Note 21 (p. 106).]

  • “May Power and Justice and thee, mighty Twain.”

  
  
  The reader will note this theological triad as very characteristic of the Greeks. Power (Κράτος) is coupled with Jove, as being his most peculiar physical attribute. Personified, this attribute appears in the Prometheus; and in Homer,

  • “Jove, the lofty pealing Thunderer, and in power the chiefest god,”

  answers to the opening words of our own solemn addresses to the Supreme Being—Almighty God Justice, again, belongs to Jove as the highest moral attribute; and this conjunction we find also very distinctly expressed in Homer.

  • “By Olympian Jove I charge you, and by Themis who presides
  • O’er the assemblies of the people”
  • —Odyssey II 68

  [Note 22 (p. 107)]

  • “. . . exasperate at the loss
  • Of my so fair possessions.”

  
  
  ἀποχρημάτοισι ζημιάις ταυρόυμενον. Kl. has made sad havoc of this line; but his objections to the old translation are weak, and his transpositions, so far as I can see, only make confusion more confounded. I stick by Stan. Ἀποχρήματος ζημιά est damnum bonorum omnium. Huc facit illud quod sequitur v. 299. και προσπιέζει χρημάτων ἀχηνία.

  [Note 23 (p. 107).]

  • “. . The evil-minded Powers
  • Beneath the Earth.”

  
  
  I am quite at a loss to explain the original of this passage further than that I see nothing harsh (as Lin. does) in referring the general term δυσϕρὁνων to the Furies, who are specially mentioned afterwards. It is quite common with Æschylus to give a general description first, and then specialise, and, moreover, in the present instance the λιχήνος which the δυσϕρονες are to send on the flesh of the sinner, are strictly analogous to the λιχὴν ἀϕυλλος (Eumen. v. 788), with which, in the Eumenides, they threaten to curse the Athenian soil. For the rest I should have little objection, in the present state of the MSS., to adopt Lobeck’s suggestion, μηνίματα, into the text, and have in effect so translated.

  [Note 24 (p 107)]

  • “And through the dark his prescient eyebrow arched.”

  
  
  The reference of this impracticable line to Apollo comes from Pauw, and has been adopted by Schwenck, who reads—

  • Ὁρωˆν τε λαμπρὸν ὲν σκότῳ νωμωˆν τ’ ’οϕρὺν.

  Another way of squeezing a meaning from the line is to refer it to Agamem non—
  
  

  • “With trains of heavier woes
  • Raised by the Furies from my father’s blood,
  • Who in the realms of night sees this, and bends
  • His gloomy brows”
  • —Pot.

  The other translations proposed are meagre and unpoetical.

  [Note 25 (p. 107).]

  • “. . . him no share
  • In festal cup awaits, or hallowed drop
  • Of pure libation.”

  [Note 26 (p 108)]

  • “Age to age with hoary wisdom
  • Speaketh thus to men.”

  
  
  The old Jewish maxim of an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, will here recur to every one; and, indeed, it is, to the present day, an instinctive dictate of social justice, however insufficient it may be as a general motive for individual conduct. In this spirit, wise old Nestor, in the Iliad (II. 354), considers that it would be disgraceful for the Greeks to think of returning home “before some Greek had slept with the wife of some Trojan,” as a retaliation for the woes that Paris had inflicted on Greek social life, in the matter of Helen. In Dante’s Inferno there are many instances, sometimes ingenious, sometimes only ridiculous, of the application of this principle to retributive punishment in a future life.

  [Note 27 (p. 108)]

  • “There where in dark, the dead-man’s day, thou liest.”

  
  
  Kl. appears to me to have supplied the true key to σκότω ϕάος ’ισόμοιρον, by comparing the exclamation of Ajax in Sophocles, v. 394—

  • Ιω σκότος ’εμὸν ϕάος
  • [Editor: illegible character]ερεβος ὠ ϕαεννότατον ὡς εμόι!

  The gloomy state of the dead in Hades is pictured yet more darkly, by saying that the night, which covers them, is all that serves them for day

  [Note 28 (p. 109).]

  • “The monarch of the awful dead.”

  
  
  The Hades of the ancients was, as is well remarked by Kl on this place, in all things an image of this upper world; an observation to be made on the surface of Virgil—

  • “Quae gratia currum
  • Armorumque fuit viris, quæ cura nitentes
  • Pascere equos, eadem sequitur tellure repostos”
  • Æneid VI 653.

  But the parallel most striking to the present passage occurs in the address of Ulysses to Achilles, Odyssey XI 482—
  
  

  • “Achilles,
  • Never man before was happier, nor shall ever be, than thou,
  • When thou wert among the living all the Argives honoured thee
  • Like a god, and now amid the dead thou sway’st with mighty power”

  To which address the hero gave the well-known reply, a reply characteristic at once of his own tremendous energy, and of the Greek views of a future state:—

  • “Noble Ulysses, praise me not the state of death; for I would rather
  • Be a serf, and break the clods to him that owneth acres few
  • On Earth, than reign the mighty lord of millions of the shadowy dead.’

  [Note 29 (p. 110)]

  • “Hyperborean bliss.”

  
  
  “Fair birds have fair feathers;” so the Greeks, who had sent no voyages of discovery to the Arctic seas, were free, without contradiction, to place Utopia at the North Pole. (See Herodot. III. 106, quoted by Nitzsh in his comments on the Phœacians, Od. VII. 201-6) Schutz quotes Pomp. Mela. III. 5—“diutius quam ulli mortalium et beatius vivunt.” Some of these Hyperboreans drank nothing but milk (γαλακτοϕάγοι, Hom. II. XIII. 6), and from this practice the alleged purity of their manners, according to certain modern theories of dietetics, may have arisen.

  [Note 30 (p 110).]

  • “O Jove, O Jove! that sendest from below.”

  
  
  “Zeus, though his proper region is above, yet, by reason of his perfect concord with his brother in the moral government of the world, exercises authority also in Hades”—Kl This is one of the many instances to be found in Homer and Æschylus of the Monotheistic principle of an enlightened Deism controlling and overruling the apparent confusion and anarchy of Polytheism

  [Note 31 (p. 111).]

  • “Ye that honoured reign below.”

  
  
  What the true reading of the corrupt original here is, no one can know; but it may be some satisfaction to the student to note that the different readings of all the emendators bring out substantially the same sense. I give the various translations as follows:—

  • You, whose dreaded power
  • The infernal realms revere, ye Furies, hear me!
  • —Pot.
  • O ye powers that are honoured among the dead, listen to my prayer.
  • —E. P., Oxon.
  • Höret ihr Herrscher der Tiefe, hört mïch.
  • —Droy.
  • Höret mich Erd, und des Abgrund’s mächte!
  • —Fr

  Neither this “Earth,” nor my “Furies,” can be looked on as part of the text. They are only put in to fill up a gap, where nothing better can be done.

  [Note 32 (p 111).]

  • “And if blithe confidence awhile.”

  
  
  This passage is desperate. I follow Peile in the translation; though, if I were editing the Greek, I should prefer to follow Well and Pal. in doing nothing.

  [Note 33 (p. 111).]

  • “The mother gave her child
  • This wolfish nature wild.”

  
  
  This translation, which is supported by Peile, and Pal., and Lin., seems to me to give θυμὸς that reference to Orestes which connects it best with the previous lines, while it, at the same time, gives the least forced explanation of ’εκ μάτρος.

  [Note 34 (p. 112)]

  • “Like a Persian mourner.”

  
  
  The student will find a very remarkable difference between this version and that in Pot. and E P. Oxon., arising from the conversion of the word πολεμιστρίας into ’ιηλεμιστρίας, a conjectural emendation which we owe to Hermann and Ahrens, and which appears to me to be one of the most satisfactory that has ever been made on the text of Æschylus. It has, accordingly, been adopted by Kl., Peile, Pal., Fr., and Droy. The oriental wailers were famous, and the “Maryandine and Mysian wailers” are especially mentioned by our poet in the final chorus of “the Persians;” which will be the best commentary on the exaggerated tone of the present passage. I have followed the recent German editors and translators in giving the first part of this Strophe to the Chorus. There seems to be a natural division at the words Ἰὼ, Ἰὼ δαία.

  [Note 35 (p 112)]
  
  OrestesWell. has certainly made a great oversight in running on continuously with these two Strophes. However the division be made, a new person must commence with Αέγεις πατρώιον μόρον.

  [Note 36 (p. 113)]
  
  Chorus. Here again I follow the later editors and translators in dividing the part given to the Chorus by Well. There is a sort of natural partition of the style and sentiment palpable to any reader. It may also be remarked in general, that the broken and exclamatory style of the lamentation in this Chorus is quite incompatible with long continuous speeches (such as Pot. has given), out of one mouth. The order of persons I give as in Peile.

  [Note 37 (p. 114).]

  • “Scathless myself”

  
  
  ϕυγεɩ̂ν. Fr. has unnecessarily changed this into τυχεɩ̂ν. In Odyssey XX. 43, Ulysses uses the same language to Athena.

  [Note 38 (p. 114).]

  • “Thou too shalt taste”

  
  
  That the dead were believed actually to eat the meat and drink that was prepared for them at the funeral feast is evident from the eleventh book of the Odyssey, where they come up in fluttering swarms and sip the pool of blood from the victim which he had sacrificed.

  [Note 39 (p. 115).]

  • “Well spoken both.”

  
  
  With Kl., Peile, Fr., and Pal., I adopt Hermann’s emendation—

  • κὰι μὴν ἀμεμϕη̂ τον δ ἐτείνατον λόγον.

  and with him give the four lines to the Chorus. A very obvious and natural sense is thus brought out, besides that καὶ μὴν naturally indicates a change of person

  [Note 40 (p. 115).]

  • “. . . try what speed the gods may give thee.”

  
  
  δαίμονος πειρωˆμενος. Literally trying your god—the dependence of fortune upon God being a truth so vividly before the Greek mind that the term δαίμων came to be used for both in a manner quite foreign to the use of the English language, and which can only be fully expressed by giving both the elements of the word in a sort of paraphrase.

  [Note 41 (p 116).]

  • “. . . this whole house with ills
  • Is sheer possessed.”

  
  
  δαὶμον[Editor: illegible character] δόμος κακοɩ̂ς. Literally, “the house is godded with ills,” that is, so beset with evil that we can attribute it only to a special superhuman power—to a god, as the Greeks expressed it, to the devil, as we say.

  [Note 42 (p. 116).]

  • “. . . Sirs, why dare ye shut
  • Inhospitable doors against the stranger?”

  
  
  To shut the door upon a stranger or a beggar, seems, in Homer’s days, to have been accounted as great a sin, as it is now, from change of circumstances, necessarily looked on as almost a virtue. Every book of the Odyssey has some testimony to this; suffice it to quote the maxim—

  [Note 43 (p 116).]

  • “The third and crowning cup.

  
  
  “Alluding first to the slaughter of the children of Thyestes by Atreus, then to the murder of Agamemnon by Clytemnestra, and thirdly, that of Clytemnestra and Ægisthus presently to take place.”—Kl.

  [Note 44 (p. 116).]

  • “. . . his present aid I ask”
  • Who laid on my poor wits this bloody task.”

  
  
  I am inclined with Schutz, Kl, and Peile, to think that there is more propriety in referring this to Apollo than to Pylades. It is true, also, as Schutz remarks, that Æschylus generally, if not invariably, applies the word ἐποπτεύω to the notice taken of anything by a god.

  [Note 45 (p. 117).]

  • “Earth breeds a fearful progeny”

  
  
  The sentiment of this chorus was familiar to the ancients, and was suggested with peculiar force to the minds of the tragedians, from the contemplation of those terrible deeds of old traditionary crime, which so often formed the subject of their most popular and most powerful efforts. Sophocles had a famous chorus in the Antigone, beginning in the same strain, though ranging over a wider and a more ennobling field—“πολλὰ τα δεινὰ κ’ουδὲν ανθρώπου δεινότερον πέλει”

  • “Things of might hath Nature many
  • In her various plan,
  • But of daring powers who dareth
  • Most on Earth is man”

  In imitation of which, the
  
  

  • “Audax omnia perpeti
  • Gens humana ruit in vetitum nefas”

  of Horace has become proverbial. In modern times, the pages of the Times newspaper will supply more ample and various illustrations of the same great truth than the most learned ancient could have collected. In England especially, the strong nature of the Saxon shows something Titanic, both in feats of mechanical enterprise and in crime.

  [Note 46 (p. 117).]

  • “All-venturing woman’s dreadful ire.”

  
  
  Kl. quotes here the Homeric

  • ὡς ὀυκ ἀινότερον και κύντερον ἀλλο γυναικὸς.
  • “Woman like a dog unblushing deeds of terrible name will do.”

  So a friend who was in Paris, at the time of the Revolution in 1848, wrote to me—“With the men I can easily manage, but the women are tigers.”

  [Note 47 (p 117).]

  • “Thestios’ daughter, wild with rage.”

  
  
  Althea, the mother of the famous Calydonian boar-hunter, Meleager, who is so often seen on the sides of ancient sarcophagi. “When Meleager was seven days old, it is said the Fates appeared, declaring that the boy would die, as soon as the piece of wood that was burning on the hearth should be consumed. When Althea heard this, she extinguished the fire-brand, and concealed it in a chest. Meleager himself became invulnerable; but when—in the war between the Calydonians and the Curetes—he had unfortunately killed his mother’s brother, she lighted the piece of wood, and Meleager died”—Dict. Biog.

  [Note 48 (p 117)]

  • “How Scylla, gay, in gold arrayed.”

  
  
  The daughter of Nisus, king of Megara, who, when Minos, in his expedition against Athens, took Megara, betrayed the city to the enemy, by cutting off the purple or golden hair which grew on the top of her father’s head, and on which his life and the preservation of the city depended —Dict., Biog., voceNisus, and Virgil Georg. I. 404, and Ovid. Met. VIII. 90, quoted here by Sian

  [Note 49 (p. 118)]

  • “O woman! woman! Lemnos saw”

  
  
  The Lemnian women, as Apollodorus relates (I. 9, 17), having neglected to pay due honor to Venus, were, by that goddess, made so ill-favoured and intolerable to consort with (αυταɩ̂ς έμβάλλη δοσοσμίαν), that their husbands, abandoning them, took themselves other wives from among the captive women that they had brought over from Thrace The Lemnian women, in revenge, murdered both their fathers and their husbands; from which atrocious act, and another bloody deed mentioned by Herodotus (VI. 138), “it hath been the custom,” says the historian, “to call by the name Lemnian any monstrous and inhuman action.”

  [Note 50 (p. 118).]

  • “And honor from the threshold hies,
  • On which the doom god-spoken lies”

  
  
  We are not always sufficiently alive to the deep moral power which lay concealed beneath the harlequin dress of the old Greek Polytheism What Æschylus puts into the mouth of a theatrical chorus in sounding rhythm, Xenophon, in plain prose, teaches from the mouth of a Greek captain thus—“Whosoever violates an oath to which the gods are witness, him I can never be brought to look on as a happy man. For, when the gods are once hostile, no one can escape their anger—not by hiding himself in darkness—not by fencing himself within a strong place. For all things are subject to the gods.”—Anab. II 5. Think on some of the Psalms!

  [Note 51 (p. 119).]

  • “But nice regard for the fine feeling ear.”

  
  
  I have here with a certain freedom of version expressed Kl ’s idea, that the preference expressed by Orestes for a male ear to receive his message arose from the nature of his news; but I do not think it is “inept” to believe, with Bl. and Peiie, that we have here merely an instance of the general secluded state in which Greek women lived, so that it was esteemed not proper to talk with them, in public—as Achilles says, in Euripides—

  • ἀισχρὸν δέ μοὶ γυναιξὶν συμβὰλλειν λόγους.
  • “For me to hold exchange of words with women
  • Were most improper”
  • —Iphig Aulid 830.

  [Note 52 (p. 119).]

  • “Hot baths.”

  
  
  To an English ear this sounds more like the apparatus of modern luxury than the accompaniment of travel in the stout heroic times. It is a fact, however, as Kl. well notes, that of nothing is there more frequent mention in Homer than of warm baths. This is especially frequent in the Odyssey, where so many journeys are made Telemachus, for instance, at Pylus, is washed by the beautiful Polycaste, the youngest daughter of his venerable host; and the poet records with pleasure how “out of the bath he came in appearance like to the immortal gods” (III. 468), a verse which might serve as a very suitable motto to a modern work on Hydropathy.

  [Note 53 (p 119)]
  
  ElectraWell. is very imperative in taking these words out of Electra’s mouth, and giving them to some other person, he does not exactly know who; but, though she left the stage before, there is no reason why she should not come back; and, in fact, she is just doing what she ought to do in appearing here, and carrying on the deception.

  [Note 54 (p. 120).]

  • “Is audited at nothing.”

  
  
  The passage is corrupt. I read παρ’ ὀυδέν, with Blomfield. ’Tis certainly difficult to say whether βακχείας καλης should be made to depend on ἐλπὶς, as I have made it, or being changed into κακης, be referred to Clytemnestra.

  [Note 55 (p. 120)]

  • “. . . suasive wile, and smooth deceit!”

  
  
  The reader need hardly be reminded that these qualities, so necessary to the present transaction, render the invocation (in the next line) peculiarly necessary of the god, who was the recognised patron of thieves, and of whom the Roman lyrist, in a well-known ode sings—

  • “Te boves olim nisi reddidisses
  • Per dolum amotas puerum minaci
  • Voce dum terret, viduus pharetra
  • Risit Apollo’

  [Note 56 (p. 120).]

  • “The nightly courier of the dead.”

  
  
  τὸν νύχιον. That there is a great propriety in the epithet nightly, as applied to Mercury, both in respect of his general function as πομπα̂ιος, or leader of the dead through the realms of night, and in respect of the particular business now in hand, and the particular time of the action, is obvious. In spite of some grammatical objections, therefore, I cannot but think it far-fetched in Blom. and Peile to refer the epithet to Orestes. Were I editing the text I should be very much inclined to follow Herm. and Pal. in putting καὶ τὸν νύχιον within brackets, as perhaps a gloss.

  [Note 57 (p. 122).]

  • “The bearer of a tale can make it wear
  • What face he pleases.”

  
  
  I translate thus generally, in order to avoid the necessity of settling the point whether κυπτὸς or κρυπτὸς is the proper reading—a point, however, of little consequence to the translator of Æschylus, as the Venetian Scholiast to Il. O. 207 has been triumphantly brought forward to prove the real meaning of this otherwise corrupt and unintelligible verse. Pot. was not in a condition to get hold of the true text—so he has given the best version he could of what he had—

  • “For the mind catches from the messenger
  • A secret elevation and bold swell,”

  evidently from the reading of Paw.—

  [Note 58 (p. 122).]
  
  Choral Hymn. The text of this Chorus is a ruin, with here a pillar and there a pillar, some fragments of a broken cornice, and something like the cell of a god, but the rubbish is so thick, and the excavations so meagre, that perfect recovery of the original scheme is in some places impossible, and restoration in a great measure conjectural. Under these circumstances, with the help of the Commentators (chiefly Peilr and Lin.), I have endeavoured to piece out a connection between the few fragments that are intelligible; but I have been guided throughout more by a sort of poetical instinct than by any philological science, and have allowed myself all manner of liberties, convinced that in this case the most accurate translation is sure to be the worst. In the metre, I follow Peile.

  [Note 59 (p. 125).]

  • “Let’s go aside, the deed being done, that we
  • Seem not partakers of the bloody work.”

  
  
  ’Tis a misfortune, arising from having such a body as a Chorus always on the stage, that they are often found to be spectators, where they cannot be partakers of a great work, and thus their attitude as secret sympathisers, afraid to show their real sentiments, becomes on many occasions the very reverse of heroic. This strikes us moderns very strongly, apt as we are, from previous associations, to take the Chorus along with the other characters of the play, and judge it accordingly; but to the Greeks, who felt that the Chorus was there only for the purpose of singing, criticisms of this kind were not likely to occur.

  [Note 60 (p. 126).]

  • “I nursed thy childhood, and in peace would die.”

  
  
  Clytemnestra says only that she wished to be allowed to spend her old age in peace; but she implies further, according to a natural feeling strongly expressed by Greek writers, that it was the special duty of her son to support her old age, and thus pay the fee of his nursing. Thus, in Homer, it is a constant lament over one who dies young in battle—

  • “Not to his parents
  • The nursing fee (θρέπτρα) he paid”
  • —Il. IV. 478.

  “In general it was accounted a great misfortune by the Greeks to die childless (ἄπαιδα γηράσκειν, Eurip Ion 621). And at Athens there was a law making it imperative on an heir to afford aliment to his mother.”—Klausen.

  [Note 61 (p. 126).]

  • “Thou art a woman sitting in thy chamber.”
  • “Go to thy chamber, mother, and mind the business that suits thee;
  • Tend the loom and the spindle, and give thy maidens the order
  • Each to her separate work; but leave the bow and the arrows
  • To the men and to me—for the man in the house is the master”
  • Odyssey XXI. 350.

  So Telemachus says to his mother; and on other occasions he uses what we should think, rather sharp and undutiful language—but in Greece a woman who left the woman’s chamber without a special and exceptional call subjected herself to just rebuke. With regard to the matter here at issue between Orestes and Clytemnestra, Kl. notes that, though the wandering Ulysses is allowed without blame to form an amorous alliance with Calypso, the same excuse is not allowed for the female sitting quietly in her “upper chamber” (ὑπερώιον, Il. II. 514) as Homer has it. For “in ancient times,” says the Scholiast to that passage, “the Greeks shut up their women in garrets (ὑπερ τονˆ δυσεντεύκτους ἀυτάς [Editor: illegible character]ιναι) that they might be difficult to get at.”—How Turkish!

  [Note 62 (p 126)]
  
  Orestes. I have little doubt that Kl., Peile, Fr., Well., and Pal., are right in giving the line ἠ̂ κάρτα μάντις to Orestes. I should be inclined to agree with Well. and Pal. also, that after this line a verse has dropt out—“in quo instantem sibi mortem deprecata sit Clytemnestra;” but there is no need of indicating the supposed blank in the translation, as the sense runs on smoothly enough without it.

  [Note 63 (p. 127)]

  • “ . . the eye of this great house, may live.”

  
  
  An Oriental expression, to which the magnificent phraseology of our Celestial brother who sells tea, has made the English ear sufficiently familiar. He calls our king, or our consul, I forget which, “the Barbarian eye.” Other examples of this style occur in the Persians and the Eumenides.—See p. 172 above.

  [Note 64 (p. 127).]

  • “A pair of grim lions, a double Mars terrible.”

  
  
  Klausen, who, like other Germans, has a trick, sometimes, of preferring what is far-fetched to what is obvious, considers that this double Mars is the double death, first of Agamemnon in the previous piece, then of Clytemnestra in this; but notwithstanding what he says, the best comment on this passage is that given by the old Scholiast, when he writes “Pylades and Orestes.”

  [Note 65 (p 127).]

  • “Sore chastisement.”

  
  
  ποινὰ. Ahrens, with great boldness, changes this into Ἐρμα̂ς, which reading has been rashly thrown into the text by Fr. If any special allusion is needed, I agree with Pal. that Orestes is indicated, who is mentioned in the next clause as inflicting the blow, under the guidance of celestial Justice.

  [Note 66 (p. 127).]

  • “Her from his shrine sent the rock-throned Apollo.”

  
  
  In this corrupt passage I adopt Hermann’s correction of τάν περ for τάπέρ. How much the whole meaning is guesswork, the reader may see, by comparing my translation with Pot. and the E. P. Oxon, in this place, who follow the old Scholiast in referring χρονισθε̂ισαυ to Clytemnestra.

  [Note 67 (p. 127).]

  • “And blithely shall welcome them Fortune the fairest.”

  
  
  This passage being very corrupt, is rendered freely. I adopt Stan.’s conjecture [Editor: illegible character]δεɩ̂ν ἀκονˆσαι θ’ [Editor: illegible character]εμενοις, and suppose μέτοικοι to refer to Orestes and Electra.

  [Note 68 (p. 128).]

  • “. . . not
  • My father, but the Sun that fathers all
  • With light.”

  
  
  There is a certain mannerism in this description of a thing by the negation of what is similar, to which the tragedians were much addicted. As to the invocation of the sun, see the note in the Prometheus to the speech beginning

  • O divine ether and swift-winged winds.

  [Note 69 (p. 128)]

  • “Or a torpedo, that with biteless touch
  • Strikes numb who handles.”

  
  
  Literally, a lamprey, μύραινα; but to translate so would have been ludicrous; and besides, as Blom. has noted from Athenaeus, it was not a common lamprey that, in the imagination of the Greeks, was coupled with a viper, but “a sort of monstrous reptile begotten between a viper and a lamprey.”

  [Note 70 (p. 128).]

  • “This cloth to wrap the dead.”

  
  
  ’Tis difficult to say whether δρόιτη, in this place, means the bath in which Agamemnon was murdered, or the bier on which any dead body is laid after death. Kl. supports this latter interpretation. I have incorporated a reference to both versions.

  [Note 71 (p. 129).]

  • “Others ’twixt hope and fear may sway, my fate
  • Is fixed and scapeless.”

  
  
  I read—

  • Ἄλλοις ἄν ἐι δή. τουτ’ ἂρ διδ δπη τελε̂ι.
  • Peile.

  [Note 72 (p 129)]

  • “With soft-wreathed wool, and precatory branch.”

  
  
  These insignia of suppliants are familiar to every reader of the Classics. I shall only recall two of the most familiar intances In the opening scene of the Iliad the priest of Apollo appears before Agamemnon, and

  • “In his hand he held the chaplet of the distant-darting Phœbus
  • On a golden rod”

  And in the opening lines of the Œdipus Tyrannus, the old King asks the Chorus—

  • “Why swarm ye here around the seats of the gods,
  • With branches furnished such as suppliants bear?”

  [Note 73 (p 129).]

  • “. . . navel of earth, where burns the flame
  • Of fire immortal”

  
  
  As the old astronomers made Earth the centre of the planetary system, and as men are everywhere, and at all times, apt to consider their own position and point of view as of more importance in the great whole of things than it really is; so the Greeks, in their ignorant vanity, considered their own Delphi to be the navel, or central point of Earth. As to the immortal fire, Stan. quotes here from Plutarch, who, in his life of Numa (c. ix.), describing the institution of the Vestal Virgins, takes occasion to mention the sacred fire kept alive in Greece at two places, Delphi and Athens, which, if extinguished, was always rekindled from no earthly spark, but from the Sun.

  [Note 74 (p. 130).]

  • “There is atonement.”

  
  
  Ἐισιν καθαρμόι, Schutz, Pal.; [Editor: illegible character] σται καθαρμός, Bothe. Either of these seems preferable to the vulgate ἐισω. Franz has [Editor: illegible character]ις σοι καθαρμὸς. Eins bleibt Dir Suhnung.

  [Note 75 (p. 130).]

  • “Ye see them not. I see them”

  
  
  Ghosts and gods are never visible to the bystander, but only to the person or persons who may be under their special influence at the moment of their appearance—so in the Iliad (I. 197), Pallas Athena—

  • “There behind him stood, and by the yellow hair she seized Pelides,
  • Seen to him alone, the others saw not where the goddess stood”

  and so in a thousand places of the poet To the spectator, however, in the theatre, spiritual beings must be visible, because (as Muller, Eumen 3, properly remarks) they are the very persons from before whose eyes it is the business of the poet to remove the veil that interposes between our everyday life and the spiritual world. That the Furies of the following piece were seen bodily at this part of the present play, and are not supposed to exist merely in the brain of Orestes, is only what a decent regard for common poetical consistency on the part of a great tragic poet seems to imply.

  [Note 76 (p. 130).]

  • “ . . the god whose eyes in love behold thee!”

  
  
  What god is not said, but the word θεός is used indefinitely without the article. The Greeks had an indefinite style when talking of the divine providence—a god, or some god, or the god, or the gods—a style which arose naturally out of the Polytheistic form of celestial government. Examples of all the different kinds of phraseology are frequent in Homer. Sometimes, in that author, the expression, though indefinite in itself, has a special allusion, plain enough from the context; and in the present passage I see no harm in supposing an allusion to Apollo, under whose immediate patronage Orestes acts through the whole of this piece and that which follows.

  [* ]This original germ of the Furies is mentioned frequently in these plays, as πολυκρατεɩ̂ς ἀρὰι ϕθιμενων, Fell Curses of the Dead, in the Chocphoræ, p. 111 above. See also the words of Clytemnestra, My curse beware, p. 126 above.

  [* ]Wordsworth’s “Athens and Attica,” London, 1836, c. 11

  [† ]“Καὶ τὴν μὲν ἐν Ἀρείῳ πάγῳ βουλὴν Ἐϕιάλτης ἐκόλουσ[Editor: illegible character] καὶ Περικλη̂ς. τὰ δὲ δικαστήρια μισθοϕόρα κατέστησε Περικλη̂ς.”—Aristotle, Pol. II. 9. 3.

  [* ]“Τη̂ς ναναρχίας γὰρ ἐν τοɩ̂ς Μηδικοɩ̂ς ὀ δη̂μος ἄιτιος γενόμενος ἐϕρονηματίσθη.”—Aristotle,ibid.

  [* ]The progany of Earth and Heaven were called Titans, among whom Phœbe is numbered by Hesiod — Theog. 136.

  [† ]Apollo.

  [‡ ]One of the waters that descend from Parnassus.

  [§ ]Neptune.

  [* ]See note to Choephoræ, No. 73

  [* ]πομπα̂ιος. Of the dead specially, but also of the living: as of Ulysses in the Odyssey, Book X.

  [* ]Literally the unseen world. Sometimes used for the King of the unsoon world—Pluto.

  [* ]See Introductory Remarks.

  [* ]Lucidae sedes.- Horace III. 3

  [* ]See Introductory Remarks. They designate themselves here from their origin ’Apal or imprecations.

  [* ]That is, the Furies themselves.

  [* ]Wer nie sein Brod mit Thränen ass,
  
  Und durch die kummervollen Nächte
  
  Auf seinem Bette weinend sass,
  
  Er kennt Euch nicht, ihr himmlischen Mächte!—Goethe.

  [* ]“For strangers and the poor are from Jove.”—Homer.

  [* ]See above, p. 141, Note 4.

  [* ]That is, Asia. See Introduction to the Agamemnon.

  [* ]Alluding to the well-known and beautiful allegoric myth that the goddess of wisdom sprang, full-armed, into birth from the brain of the all-wise Omipotent, without the intervention of a mother.

  [† ]See the Preliminary Remarks.

  [* ]παρόρνιθας, as we say ill-starred—that is, unfortunate, unlucky, the metaphor being varied, according to the changes of fashions in the practice of divination.

  [† ]Alii γελωˆμαι—“fortasse non male”—Paley

  [* ]The goddess of Persuasion—πειθὼ.

  [* ]Like Erectheus (p. 167 above), one of the most ancient Earth-born kings of Attica

  [* ]So the Greeks called anything very ancient, from Ogyges, an old Bœotian king.

  [Note 1 (p. 141)]

  • “Old earth, primeval prophetess, I first
  • With these my prayers invoke; and Themis next.”

  
  
  Earth, or Gaea, as the Greeks name her, is described here, and in Pausanias (X. 5), as the most ancient prophetess of Delphi, for two reasons; first, because out of the earth came those intoxicating fumes or vapours, by the inspiration of which the oracles were given forth (see Diodorus XVI. 26); second, because, as Schoemann well observes, Gaea, as the aboriginal divine mother, out of whose womb all the future celestial genealogies were developed, necessarily contained in herself the law of their development, and is accordingly represented by Hesiod as exercising a prophetic power with regard to the fates of the other gods —(Theog 463, 494, 625) The same writer remarks with equal ingenuity and truth, that Themis, her successor in the prophetic office, is only a personification of that law of development which, by necessity of her divine nature, originally lay in Gaea, and I would remark, further, how admirable the instinct was of those old mythologists, who placed Love and Right, and other ineradicable feelings or notions of the human mind, among the very oldest of the gods It is notable also, that previous to Apollo, all the presidents of prophecy at Delphi—including the famous Phemonoe, not mentioned here but by Pausanias l[Editor: illegible character]c, were women, and even Loxias himself could not give forth oracles without the help of a Pythoness. There is a great fitness in this, as women are naturally both more pious and more emotional than men. Hence their peculiar fitness for exercising prophetic functions, of which ancient Germany was witness—(see Cæsar b.c I. 50).

  [Note 2 (p 141)]

  • “. . . rocky Delos’ lake.”

  
  
  There can be no question that Schutz was right in translating λίμνη, in this passage, lake (and not sea, as Abresch did), it being impossible that a well-informed Athenian, on hearing this passage in the theatre, should not understand the poet to refer to the circular lake in Delos, described by Herodotus in II. 170.

  [Note 3 (p. 141).]

  • “The Sons of Vulcan pioneer his path”

  
  
  i.e. “The Athenians”—Scholiast—“who,” adds Stan., “were called the sons of Vulcan, because they were skilled in all the arts of which Vulcan and Pallas were patrons; or, because Erichthonius, from whom the Athenians were descended, was the son of Vulcan;” with which latter view Muller and Schoemann concur; and it appears to me sufficiently reasonable. There is no reason, however, for not receiving, along with this explanation, another which has been given, that the sons of the fire-god mean “smiths.” Artificers of this kind were necessary to pioneer the path for the procession of the god in the manner here described, and would naturally form, at least, a part of the convoy.

  [Note 4 (p. 141).]

  • “. . . Loxias, prophet of his father Jove.”

  
  
  ’Tis plain from the whole language of Homer, both in the Iliad and Odyssey, that the fountain of the whole moral government of the world is Jove, and, of course, that all divination and inspiration comes originally from him. Even Phœbus Apollo acts only as his instrument (Nagelsbach Homerische Theologie, p. 105). Stan. compares Virgil Æneid III. 250.

  [Note 5 (p. 141)]

  • “. . . thee, likewise, who ’fore this temple dwellest”

  
  
  The reading προνάια (or προνᾴα), which I translate, is that of Well. and all the MSS.; but Lin has put πρόνοια, providential or foresecing, into the text, following out a criticism of Lennep on Phalaris, which has been stoutly defended by Hermann, in his remarks on Müller’s Eumenides (Opusc. VI. v. 2, p. 17). This, however, in the face of an express passage of Herodotus (I. 92), as Pal. well observes, has been done rashly; and now Fr. and Schoe. bring forward inscriptions which prove that there is not the slightest cause for tampering with the text. I have not been able to learn the substance of Lennep’s remarks otherwise than from the account of them by Muller in the Anhang, p. 14, but, taken at their highest value, they seem only to prove that a vagueness had taken hold of the ancients themselves in respect to the designation of this temple, not certainly that Æschylus and Herodotus both made a mistake in calling it προνᾴα, or that all the transcribers of their texts made a blunder.

  [Note 6 (p. 141).]

  • “. . . ye Nymphs that love
  • The hollow Corycian rock.”

  
  
  “From Delphi, which lies pretty high, the traveller ascended about 60 stadia, or two hours’ travel, till he arrived at the Corycian cave, dedicated to Pan and the Nymphs, in which there were many stalactites and live fountains.”—Sickler.alte geog. II. 134.

  [Note 7 (p. 141).]

  • “Thee, Bromius, too, I worship.”

  
  
  Bacchus, so called from βρέμω, fremo—the roaring or boisterous god. His connection with Apollo (though drinking songs are not so common now as they were last century) is obvious enough; and some places of the ancient poets where the close connection of these two gods is described, may be seen in Stan. The Scholiast to Euripides Phœnissai (v. 227, Matthiae) says expressly that Apollo and Artemis were worshipped on the one peak of Parnassus, and Bacchus on the other.

  [Note 8 (p. 141).]

  • “. . . the godless Pentheus.”

  
  
  “A son of Echion and Agave, the daughter of Cadmus. He was the successor of Cadmus as king of Thebes, and being opposed to the introduction of the worship of Dionysus in his kingdom, was torn to pieces by his own mother and two other Mænads, Ino and Autonoe, who in their Bacchic frenzy believed him to be a wild beast The place where Pentheus suffered death is said to have been Mount Cithæron; but, according to some, it was Mount Parnassus.”—Myth. Dict.

  [Note 9 (p. 141).]

  • “Poseidon’s mighty power.”

  
  
  Next to Jove, Poseidon is the strongest of the gods, as the element which he rules demands; and this strength, in works of art, is generally indicated by the breadth of chest given to this god. So Homer, also, wishing to magnify Agamemnon, says—

  • “Like to Jove that rules the thunder were his kingly head and eyes;
  • Belted round the loins like Ares, like Poseidon was his breast.”
  • Il. II. 478.

  The connection of the god of the waters with Delphi is given by Pausanias x. 5, where it is said, that originally Poseidon possessed the oracle in common with Gaea; a legend easily explained by the fact, that all high mountains necessarily produce copious streams of water of which, no less than of the waves of ocean, Poseidon is lord.

  [Note 10 (p. 142).]

  • “A gray-haired woman, weaker than a child.”

  
  
  Stan. refers here to the account given by Diodorus of the origin of the Delphic oracle, c. xvi. 26, where he relates, that in the most ancient times the prophetess was a young woman; but that, afterwards, one Echecrates, a Spartan, being smitten with the beauty of a prophetess, had offered violence to her, in consequence of which an edict was published by the Delphians, forbidding any female to assume the office of Pythoness till she was fifty years old.

  [Note 11 (p. 142)]

  • “. . . the ravenous crew
  • That filched the feast of Phineus.”

  
  
  The Harpies; who, from the names given to them in Homer and Hesiod (and specially from Odyssey xx 66 and 77 compared) seem to have been impersonations of sudden and tempestuous gusts of wind; though, again, it is not impossible that these winds may be symbolical of the rapacious power of swift and sudden death—

  • “Venit Mors velociter
  • Rapit nos atrociter,”

  as suggested by Braun. See the article by Dr Schmitz in the Biographical Dictionary.

  [Note 12 (p. 142).]

  • “Such uncouth sisterhood, apparel’d so”

  
  
  With regard to the dress of the Furies, Stan. quotes a curious passage from Diogenes Laertius, which I shall translate:—“Menedemus, the Cynic,” says he, “went to such fantastic excess as to go about in the dress of the Furies, saying, that he was sent as a visitant of human iniquity from Hades, that he might descend again, and report to the Infernal powers. His garb was as follows—a dun-coloured tunic (χιτων) reaching down to the feet, girt with a crimson sash, on his head an Arcadian cap, with the twelve signs of the Zodiac inwoven; tragic buskins, a very long beard, and an ashen rod in his hand.”—VI. 9. 2 The Romans were once put to flight by the Gauls, dressed in the terrible garb of the Furies, with burning torches in their hands.—Livy VII. 17.

  [Note 13 (p. 143)]

  • “ . . A bitter pasture truly
  • Was thine from Fate.”

  
  
  So I have thought it best to translate somewhat freely τὸνδε βουκολούμενος πόνον in order to express the original meaning of the verb βουκολουμαι. In this I have followed Müller—diese Schmerzentrift zu weiden This is surely more pregnant and poetical than to say with Fr. “Diese Lebensbahn durcheilend.” The idea of soothing and beguiling, the only one given by Hesychius, cannot apply to this place Pal, who agrees with me in this, translates the word in both places of our author where it occurs (here and in Agam 655) by “brooding over,” which differs little from my idea of feeding on.

  [Note 14 (p. 143).]

  • “Her ancient image.”

  
  
  “The image of Athena Pallas, on the citadel, which existed in the days of Pausanias, and had maintained for ages its place here by a sort of inviolable holiness In the narrow area of the temple, on the north-east slope of the Acropolis, Erechtheus had placed a carved image, either first made by himself, or, perhaps, fallen from Heaven; and round this, as a centre, the most ancient groups of Attic religion and legend assembled themselves.”—Gerhard, “uber die Minerven Idole Athen’s,” quoted by Schoe.

  [Note 15 (p. 144).]

  • “Behold these wounds.”

  
  
  I am not able to see what objection lies against the literal rendering of

  • ὁρά δε πληγὰς τάσδε καρδίᾴ σέθεν,

  as I read with Fr. and Linw. Pal and Schoe. take πληγὰς metaphorically to signify the contumelious language used by Clytemnestra to the Furies; but this is surely rather going out of the way. If there were any necessity for deserting the literal meaning, I would rather take Hermann’s way of turning it (Opusc VI. v. 2, p. 28), and read—

  • ὁρα δε πληγὰς τάσδε καρδιάς δθεν.
  • Siehe diese Wunden meines Herzens woher sie kommen!

  [Note 16 (p. 144)]

  • “Read with thy heart; some things the soul may scan
  • More clearly, when the sensuous lid hath dropt,
  • Nor garish day confounds”

  
  
  This method of speaking is quite in keeping with ancient ideas on the nature of the connection ’twixt mind and body, as Schoe. has proved from Galen (Kuhn Med gr V. 301) As to the sentiment which follows, Stan. has quoted—“Quum ergo est somno sevocatus animus a societate et a contagione corporis, tum meminit praeteritorum, praesentia cernit, futura providet”—Cic. Divinat. I 30 According to Aelian (var. hist. III. 11). the Peripatetics held the same opinion.

  [Note 17 (p 144).]

  • “Once Clytemnestra famous, now a dream.”

  
  
  There is another translation of this passage—the old one in Stan —

  • In somno enim vos nunc Clytemnestra voco,”

  to which Pot., E P Oxon., and Mul. adhere; but I cannot help thinking with Hermann (Opusc. VI. p ii. 30), that it is rather flat (matt) when compared with the other. Which of the two the poet meant cannot perhaps be settled now, as the meaning might depend on the rhetorical accent which the player was taught to give by the poet; but I am certain that the version in the text, sanctioned as it is by Wakefield, Schütz, Herm., Lin., and Pal. does not deserve to be stigmatised (in E. P.’s language) as “fanciful nonsense.” When Clytemnestra calls herself “a dream,” she uses the same sort of language which Achilles does to Ulysses regarding his own unsubstantial state as a Shade.—Odys XI.

  [Note 18 (p. 144)]

  • “. . . and seeks
  • For help from those that are no friends to me.”

  
  
  I have thought it better to retain the old and most obvious interpretation of this passage; not seeing any proof that προσίκτορες can be used in this general way as applied to the gods who are supplicated, without being affixed as an epithet to some special god; as when we say Ζεὺς ἀϕίκτωρ (Suppl. 1.)

  [Note 19 (p. 144)]
  
  Chorus. Whether Hermann in his “Dissertatio de Choro Eumenidum” (Leipzig, 1816) was the first that directed special attention to the peculiar character of this Chorus as indicated by the Scholiast, I do not know (Wellauer says so, and I presume he knew). Certain it is that Pot., by neglecting this indication, has lost a great deal of the dramatic effect of this part of the tragedy. The style of the chorus is decidedly fitful and exclamatory throughout, and must have formed a beautiful contrast to the steady stability of the solemn hymn that follows, beginning, “Mother night that bore me.” As to the particular distribution of the parts of this chorus, that is a matter on which, as Schoe. remarks, no two critics are likely to agree; nor is minute accuracy in this respect, even if it were attainable, a matter of any importance to the dramatic effect of the composition as now read. The only thing to be taken care of is, that we do not blend in a false continuity what was evidently spoken fitfully, and by different speakers, with a sort of staccato movement, as the musicians express it. This is Pot.’s grand error, not only here, but in many other of the choral parts of our poet; and, in this view, some of Hermann’s remarks (Opusc. VI. 2, 38) on Muller’s division are perfectly just. As for myself, by distributing the parts of the chorus among three voices, I mean nothing more than that these parts were likely spoken by separate voices. Scholefield and Dyer’s view (Classical Museum, Vol. I. p 281), that there were three principal Furies prominent above the rest in this piece, is not improbable, but admits of no proof. In my versification I have endeavoured to imitate the rapid Dochmiacs of the original.

  [Note 20 (p. 145)]

  • “Thou being young dost overleap the old.”

  
  
  The idea of a succession of celestial dynasties proceeding on a system of “development,” as a certain class of modern philosophers are fond to express it, is characteristic of the Greek mythology.—(See p. 47 above, Antistrophe I.) The Furies, according to all the genealogies given of them, were more ancient gods than Apollo, with whom they are here brought into collision. Our poet, as we shall see in the opening invocation of the first grand choral hymn of this piece, makes them the daughters of most ancient Night, who, according to the Theogony (v. 123), proceeded immediately from the aboriginal Chaos. Hesiod himself makes the Errinyes, along with the giants, to be produced from the blood of Uranus, when his genitals were cut off by Kronos (Theog. 185); a genealogy, by the way, quite in consistency with the Homeric representation given in the Introductory Remarks, of the origin of the Furies from the curses uttered by injured persons, worthy of special veneration, on those by whom their sacrosanct character had been violated.

  [Note 21 (p. 147).]

  • “But where beheading, eye-out-digging dooms.”

  
  
  In this enumeration of horros I have omitted κακονˆ τε χλο̂υνις, concerning which Lin. says, “Omnino de hoc loco maximis in tenebris versamur; nam neque de lectione, ncque de verborum significatione certi quidquam constat.”

  [Note 22 (p. 147).]

  • “She was murdered here,
  • That murdered first her husband.”

  
  
  The reasons given by Well. and Her. (Opusc. vi. 2. 42) why the two lines, 203-4 W., should not both be given with Stan., Schutz, and Mul., to Apollo, have satisfied Lin., Pal., Fr., Schoe., Dr., E. P. Oxon., and But. Certainly the epithets ὅμαιμος and αυθέντης (which latter the Scholiast interprets μιαρὸς) sound anything but natural in the mouth of Apollo. The emphasis put on δμαιμος in this very connection by the Furies, in v. 575, infra, noted by Hermann, should decide the question.

  [Note 23 (p. 147).]

  • “. . . matrimonail Hera.”

  
  
  Literally the perfect Hera, the perfecting or consummating Hera, Ἤρα τελεια, marriage being considered the sacred consummating ceremony of social life, and, therefore, designated among the Greeks by the same term, τέλος, which they used to express initiation into the Eleusinian mysteries. As Jove presides over all important turns in human fate, there is also neces sarily a Ζὲυς τελειος. See Blom Agam. 946, and Passow in voce τέλειος. Conf. Æn. iii. 605, Juno pronuba.

  [Note 24 (p. 147).]

  • “The nuptial bed, to man and woman fated.”

  
  
  Stan. has remarked that this word fated, μορσίμη, so applied, is Homeric (Od. XVI. 392); and, indeed, though we seem to choose our wives, we choose them oft-times so strangely, that a man may be said, without exaggeration, to have as little to do with his marriage as with his birth or his death—but all the three in a peculiar sense belong to that Μοɩ̂ρα, or divine lot, which distributes all the good and evil of which human life is made up.

  [Note 25 (p. 149)]
  
  Chorus. For the arrangement of this Chorus I refer the reader back to what I said on the previous one. The concluding part I have here arranged as an Epode, because it seems more continuous in its idea than what precedes—less violent and exclamatory.

  [Note 26 (p. 150).]

  • “On Libyan plains beside Tritonian pools.”

  
  
  Æschylus here follows the tradition of Apollodorus (I. 3, § 6), that the epithet Τριτογένεια, given by Homer to Pallas, was derived from the lake Tritonis in Libya, near which she is said to have been born. Compare Virgil Æn. IV. 480.

  [Note 27 (p. 150).]

  • “. . . with forward foot firm planted,
  • Erect, or with decorous stole high-seated.”

  
  
  I have not the slightest doubt that τίθησιν·ο̂ρθὸν πόδα in this passage can only mean to plant the foot down firmly and stand erect; if so, τίθησι κατηρεϕη̂ πόδα can only mean to sit, “the feet being covered by the robes while sitting”—Lin.; so also Pal. and Schoe. Sitting statues of the gods were very common in ancient times, as we see in the Egyptian statues, and in the common representations of the Greek and Roman Jupiter (see Thirlwall’s History of Greece, c. VI.). I am sorry that Hermann (p. 57) should have thrown out the idea that κατηρεϕη̂ς in this passage may mean “enveloped in clouds,” which has been taken up by Franz—

  • “Sichtbar sic jezt herschreitet, oder Wolkumhüllt,”

  because manifestly κατηρεϕη̂ς, in this sense, forms no natural contrast to ὀρθὸς. The “forward foot firm-planted,” I have taken from Muller’s note, p. 112, as, perhaps, pointing out more fully what may have been in the poet’s eye, without, however, meaning to assert seriously against a severe critic like Hermann, that the words of the text necessarily imply anything of the kind.

  [Note 28 (p. 150).]

  • “The ordered battle on Phlegrean fields
  • Thou musterest”

  
  
  The peninsula of Pallene in Macedonia, as also the district of Campania about Baiæ and Cumae, were called Phlegraean, or fire-fields (ϕλέγω), in all likelihood from the volcanic nature of the country, to which Strabo (Lib. V. p. 245) alludes. These volcanic movements in the religious symbolism of early Greece became giants; and against these the Supreme Wisdom and his wise daughter had to carry on a war worthy of gods.

  [Note 29 (p. 151)]
  
  Choral Hymn. “This sublime hymn is of a character, in some respects, kindred to the καταδέσεις, or incantations of antiquity, which were directed to Hermes, the Earth, and other infernal Deities for the pupose of binding down certain hated persons to destruction. For this reason it is called ὔμνος δέσμιος This character is specially indicated by the refrain or burden, which occurs in the first pair of Strophes; such repetitions containing the emphatic words of the incantation being common in all magical odes. So in Theocritus (Idyll. 2), we have constantly repeated, ‘Iungx, bring me the man, the man whom I mean, to my dwelling,’ and, in the song of the Fates at the marriage of Thetis in Catullus, the line—‘Currite ducentes subtemina, currite fusi!’ and there can be no question, the movements and gestures of the Furies while singing this hymn were such as to indicate the scapeless net of woe with which they were now encompassing their victim.”—Mül The reader will observe how impressively the metre changes on the recurrence of this burden, the rhythm in the original being Pæonic υ υ υ—, the agitated nature of which foot, when several times repeated, is sufficiently obvious. I have done what I could to make the transition and contrast sensible to the modern ear.

  [Note 30 (p. 151).]

  • “The seeing and the sightless”

  
  
  αλαο̂ισι και δεδορκόσι, i.e. the living and the dead, an expression familiar to the Greeks, and characteristic of a people who delighted to live in the sun. βλέπειν ϕάος—to look on the light, is the most common phrase in the tragedians for to live; and wisely so—

  • “Since light so necessary is to life,
  • And almost life itself, if it be true
  • That light is in the soul,
  • The soul in every part.”
  • —Milton

  Pot. has allowed himself to be led quite astray here by a petulant criticism of De Pauw.

  [Note 31 (p. 151).]

  • “The gleeless song, and the lyreless strain.”

  
  
  ὔμνος ’αϕόρμιγκτος. “The musical character of this Choral Hymn must be imagined as working upon the feelings with a certain solemn grandeur. The κιθάρα or lyre is silent; an instrument which, as the Greeks used it, always exercised a soothing power, restorative of the equipoise of the mind: only the flute is heard, whose notes, according to the unanimous testimony of antiquity, excited feelings, now of thrilling excitement, now of mute awe; always, however, disturbing the just emotional tenor of the soul. Assuredly the ὔτνος ἀϕόρμιγκτος in this place is no mere phrase.”—Muller.

  [Note 32 (p 152).]

  • “This work of labour earnest”

  
  
  I have paraphrased, or rather interpolated, in this Antistrophe, a little, because I do not see much in it that is either translatable or worth translating. A meaning has been squeezed out of the two lines beginning σπευδόμενοι; but one cannot help feeling, after all, that there is something wrong, and saying with honest Wellauer, “certi nihil video.” The main idea, shimmering through the first three lines, is plain enough—that the Furies exercise a function, the legitimacy of which no one is entitled to question This the words, μηδ ες ἄγκρισιν ’ελθεɩ̂ν, plainly indicate; and it is upon this, and Schoe.’s conjectural emendation of the first line—

  • σπευδομένος ἀπέχειν τινὰ τα̂σδε μερίμνας,
  • “Diesem Geschäft das wir treiben verbleibe man ferne,”

  that my paraphrase proceeds. With regard to the second part of this Strophe, beginning with Μάλα γὰρ δυν, I follow Well. and all the later editors, except Schoe., in retaining it for metrical reasons, in the place to which Heath transposed it. Schoe’s observations, however, are worthy of serious consideration, as it is manifest that, if these Pæonic lines be replaced to where they stand in all the old editions, viz.:—between ὀρχησμοɩ̂ς τ’ ε̂πιϕθόνοις ποδός and πιπτων δ’ουκ ὀιδεν, their connection with what precedes, and also with what follows, will be more obvious than what it is now. Fr.’s observation, however, in answer to this, is not to be kept out of view—that this second part of the Antistrophe takes up the idea, as it takes up the measure, with which the corresponding part of the Strophe, as now arranged, ends, viz.—διόμεναί κρατερὸν ὄνθ, which the reader will find clearly brought out in my version—the concluding lines of the Pæonic section of the Strophe—
  
  

  • “Though fleet we shall find him,”

  being taken up in the opening lines of the Pæonic section of the Antistrophe—

  • “But swift as the wind,
  • We follow and find.”

  [Note 33 (p. 154).]

  • “The cry that called me from Scamander’s banks.”

  
  
  The Sigean territory in the Troad was disputed between the Athenians and the people of Mitylene; which strife Herodotus informs us (V. 94) ended, by the activity of Pisistratus, in favour of the Athenians—b. c. 606. In that same territory, continues the historian, there was a temple of Pallas, where the Athenians hung up the arms of the poet Alcæus, who, though “ferox bello,” had been obliged to flee from the battle which decided the matter in favour of the Athenians Æschylus, like a true patriot and poet, throws the claim of the Athenians to this territory as far back into the heroic times as possible; and, by the words put into the mouth of Athena, makes the claim on the part of the Lesbians tantamount to sacrilege.—See Scholiast and Stan.

  [Note 34 (p. 155).]

  • “He’ll neither swear himself, nor take my oath.”

  
  
  “The Greek words, ἀλλ ὅρκον ὀυ δεξαιτ [Editor: illegible character]ν, ὀυ δονˆναι θέλει, have, in the juridical language of Athens, decidedly only this meaning; and, in the present passage, there is no reasonable ground for taking them in any other sense, though it is perfectly true that in some passages, ὅρκου διδόναι signifies simply to swear, and ὅρκον δέχεσθαι, to accept an attestation on oath.”—Schoemann.

  [Note 35 (p. 155).]

  • “In old Ixíon’s guise.”

  
  
  “Ixíon was the son of Phlegyas, his mother Dia, a daugher of Deioneus. He was king of the Lapithæ, or Phlegyes, and the father of Peirithous. When Deioneus demanded of Ixíon the bridal gifts he had promised, Ixíon treacherously invited him as though to a banquet, and then contrived to make him fall into a pit filled with fire. As no one purified Ixíon from this treacherous murder, and all the gods were indignant at him, Zeus took pity on him, purified him, and invited him to his table.”—Mythol. Dict.

  [Note 36 (p. 156).]

  • “The ancient city of famous Priam thou
  • Didst sheer uncity.”

  
  
  The original ἄπολιν Ιλίου πόλιν [Editor: illegible character]θηκας, contains a mannerism of the tragedians too characteristic to be omitted ’Tis one of the many tricks of that wisdom of words which the curious Greeklings sought, and did not find, in the rough Gospel of St. Paul.

  [Note 37 (p. 156).]

  • “For thee, in that thou comest to my halls.”

  
  
  The best exposition that I have seen of the various difficulties of this speech, is that of Schoe., unfortunately too long for extract. As to κατηρτὺκὼς, Lin. has, in the notes to his edition, justly characterised his own translation of it, in the Dictionary as durissimum. The first δμως, of course, must go; and there is nothing better than changing it with Pauw, Müll., and Schoe., into ’εμο̂ις. The second δμως must likewise go; say ὀσιὼς with Müll. or ὅυτως with Schoe. There is then no difficulty.

  [Note 38 (p. 157)]
  
  Choral Hymn. This chorus contains a solemn enumeration of some of the main texts of Greek morality, and is in that view very important. The leading measure is the heptasyllabic trochaic verse so common in English, varied with cretics and dactyles. I have amused myself with giving a sort of imitation of the rhythm, so far as the trochees and cretics are concerned; to introduce the dactyles in the places where they occur, would produce—as I found by experiment—a tripping effect altogether out of keeping with the general solemnity of the piece

  [Note 39 (p. 158).]

  • “But who sports, a careless liver.”

  
  
  ’Tis impossible not to agree with Schoe. that these two lines are corrupt beyond the hope of emendation. He proposes to read—

  • τίς δὲ μηδὲν ἐυσεβεɩ̂
  • καρδίας ἄγᾳ τρεων.

  A very ingenious restoration; and one which, as matters now stand, I should have little scruple in introducing into the text; but, for poetical purposes, I have not been willing to lose the image with which the present reading, ἐν ϕἀει, supplies me and Fr.—

  • “Wer der nicht bei Wonneglanz
  • Trauer auch im Herzen hegt,” etc.

  [Note 40 (p. 158).]

  • “To the wise mean strength is given,
  • Thus the gods have ruled in heaven.”

  
  
  This is one of those current common-places of ancient wisdom, which are now so cheap to the ear, but are still as remote from the general temper and the public heart as they were some thousands of years ago, when first promulgated by some prophetic Phemonoe of the Primeval Pelasgi. The great philosopher of common sense, Aristotle, seized this maxim, as the groundwork of practical ethics, some three hundred years before Christ—‘Φθείρεται γαρ, says he, ἡ σωϕροσύνη και ἡ ἀνδρεία ὑπὸ τη̂ς ὑπερβολη̂ς καὶ τη̂ς ’ελλειψεως, ὑπὸ δὲ τη̂ς μεσότητος σώζεται; and Horace, the poet of common sense, preachea many a quiet, tuneful sermon to the same ancient text—

  • “Auream quisquis mediocritatem
  • Diligit, tutus caret obsoleti
  • Sordibus tecti, caret invidenda
  • Sobrius aula.”

  [Note 41 (p. 158).]

  • “Pride, that lifts itself unduly”

  
  
  I will not multiply citations here to show the reader how this pride or insolence of disposition, [Editor: illegible character]βρις (the German Uebermuth), is marked by the Greek moralists as the great source of all the darker crimes with which the annals of our floundering race are stained (See Note, p. 349 above). They are wrong who tell us that Humility is a Christian and not a Heathen virtue: no doubt the name ταπεινοϕροσύνη, used in the New Testament, was not the fashionable one among the Greeks: but that they had the thing, every page of their poetry testifies, with this difference, however, to be carefully noted, that while Heathen humility is founded solely on a sense of dependence, Christian humility proceeds also, and perhaps more decidedly, from a sense of guilt. Neither does the phraseology of Heathen and Christian writers on this subject differ always so much as people seem to imagine; between the μη ὐπερϕρονε̂ιν παρ [Editor: illegible character] δεɩ̂ ϕρονεɩ̂ν of St. Paul (Rom. xii. 3), and the ὀυδεπώποτε ὐπερ ἄνθρωπον ἐϕρόνησα of Xenophon (Cyropaed. VIII), it were a foolish subtlety that should attempt to make a distinction.

  [Note 42 (p. 159).]

  • “Give the air-shattering Tyrrhene trump free voice.”

  
  
  “It is a correct and significant observation made by the Scholiast on Iliad XVIII. 219, that Homer never mentions the trumpet (σάλπιγξ) in the narrative part of his poem, but only for a comparison: familiar as he was with the instrument, he was not ignorant that the use of it was new, and not native in Greece. Indeed, it was never universally adopted in that country: the Spartans and Cretans marching into battle, first to the accompaniment of the lyre, and afterwards of the flute. The tragedians again are quite familiar with the Tuscan origin of the trumpet, though they make no scruple of introducing it into their descriptions of the Hellenic heroic age”—Müll.; Etrusker I. p. 286.

  [Note 43 (p. 160)]
  
  EnterApollo Here commences a debate between the daughters of Night and the god accusing and defending, which, as Grote (History of Greece, I. 512) remarks, is “eminently curious.” And not only curious, but unfortunately, to our modern sense at least, not a little ludicrous in some places. The fact is, that the strange moral contradictions and inconsistencies so common in the Greek mythology, so long as they are concealed or palliated under a fair imaginative show, give small offence; but when placed before the understanding, in order to be interrogated by the strict forms of judicial logic, they necessarily produce a collision with our practical reason and a smile is the result.

  [Note 44 (p 161).]

  • “. . . himself did bind
  • With bonds his hoary-dated father Kronos.”

  
  
  “In the fable of the binding of Kronos by his son Jove, Æschylus saw nothing disrespectful to the character of the supreme ruler, but only the imaginative embodiment of the fact, that one celestial dynasty had been succeeded by another. The image of binding, and of the battles of the Titans generally, might seem to his mind not the most appropriate; but the offence that lay in them was softened not a little by the consideration that the enchainment of Kronos and the Titans was only a temporary affair, leading to a reconciliation The result was, that the Titans themselves at last acknowledged the justice of their punishment, and submitted themselves to Jove, as the alone legitimate ruler of Earth; and Herr Welcker is quite wrong in supposing that either here, or in the Agamemnon, or the Prometheus, there is any indication that the mind of Æschylus was fundamentally at war with his age in regard to the celestial dynasties.”—Schoemann’s Prometheus, p. 97.

  [Note 45 (p. 162).]

  • “. . . How
  • With any clanship share lustration?”

  
  
  Or, with Buck., “what laver of his tribe shall receive him?”—the word in the original being ϕρατόρων. The ancient Hellenic tribes ϕράτραι were social unions, founded originally in the family tie, and afterwards extended. These unions had certain religious ceremonies which they performed in common, and to which allusion is here made. (Compare Livy VI. 40, 41, nos privatim auspicia habemus of the Patrician families.) To be ἀϕρήτωρ, or excluded from a tribe (Il. IX. 63), was among the Greeks of the heroic ages a penalty half-civil, half-religious, similar in character to the excommunciation of the middle ages. Of this extremely interesting subject, the English reader will find a most luminous exposition in Grote’sGreece, vol. iii. p. 74.

  [Note 46 (p. 162).]

  • “. . . whom we call
  • The mother begets not.”

  
  
  Strange as this doctrine may seem to our modern physiologists, it seems founded on a very natural notion; and to the Greeks, who had such a low estimate of women, must have appeared perfectly orthodox. The same doctrine is enunciated by the poet in the Suppliants, v. 279, when he says, “the male artist has imprinted a Cyprian character on your female features”—the image being borrowed from the art of coining. And this, like many fancies cherished by the Greeks, seems to have had its home originally in Egypt. Stan. quotes from Diodorus I. 80, who says—“The Egyptians count none of their sons bastards, not even the sons of a bought slave. For they are of opinion that the father is the only author of generation; the mother but supplieth space and nourishment to the fœtus.” In the play of Euripides, Orestes uses the same argument (Orest. 543).

  [Note 47 (p 162)]

  • “Now, hear my ordinance, Athenians!”

  
  
  This address of the goddess, of practical wisdom, in constituting the Court of the Areopagus, was pointed by the poet directly against the democratic spirit, in his day beginning to become rampant in Athens; and is applicable not less to all times in which great and, perhaps, necessary social changes take place. The poet states, with the most solemn distinctness, that the mere love of liberty will never protect liberty from degenerating into licentiousness; but that a religious reverence for law is as essential to society as a religious jealousy of despotism. Only he who profoundly fears God can dispense with the fear of man; and he who fears both God and man is the only good citizen.

  [Note 48 (p. 162)]

  • “. . . Here, on this hill,
  • The embattled Amazons pitched their tents of yore.”

  
  
  The Amazons, “as strong as men” (αντιάνειραι, Il. III. 189), are famous in the history of the Trojan war; and their expedition against Athens, mentioned here, was familiar to every Athenian eye, from the painting in the Stoa Pæcile, described by Pausanias (I. 15). As to the historical reality of these hardy females, the sober Arrian (VII. 13) is by no means inclined (after the modern German fashion) to brush them, with a stroke of his pen, out of the world of realities; and, considering what a strange and strangely adaptable creature man is, I see no reason why we should be sceptical as to their historical existence.

  [Note 49 (p 163).]

  • “Thou say’st.”

  
  
  “This is an ancient way of replying to a captious question, as we see in the Gospel (Matth. xxvii.), where, when Pilate asks, ‘art thou the king of the Jews,’ our Lord, Jesus Christ, answers in these very words Συ λέγεις—‘Thou say’st.’ ”—Stan.

  [Note 50 (p. 163).]

  • “Such were thy deeds in Pheres’ house.”

  
  
  “Alluding to Admetus, son of Pheres, whom Apollo raised from the dead, having obtained this boon from the Fates, on condition that some one should die in his stead.—See the well-known play of Euripides, the Alcestes.”—Stan. The Scholiast on that play, v. 12, as Dindorf notes, remarks that, on this occasion, Apollo moved the inflexible goddesses by the potent influence of wine. This is alluded to a few lines below.

  [Note 51 (p. 164).]

  • “. . . all my father lives in me.”

  
  
  κάρτα δ’ειμι τονˆ πατρος; specially wisdom and energy.—So Milton—

  • “All my father shines in me.”
  • —Paradise Lost, VII.

  Compare the Homeric epithet of Pallas ὁβριμοπάτρη with Nagelsbach’s Comprehensive Commentary—Hom. Theologie, p. 100.

  [Note 52 (p. 164)]
  
  Apollo.Fr., who examined the Medicean Codex, says that there is here discernible the mark which introduces a new speaker. Who that speaker is, however, the sense does not allow us to decide; but Orestes and the Chorus having spoken, I do not see why Apollo, who showed such eagerness before, should not now also, put in his word; and, therefore, deserting Well., I follow the old arrangement of Vict. and Stan.

  [Note 53 (p. 167).]

  • “Sharing alone the strong keys that unlock
  • His thunder-halls.”

  
  
  As Pallas possesses all her father’s characteristic qualities of wisdom and strength, so she is entitled to wield all his instruments, and even the thunder. Stan quotes—

  • “Ipsa (Pallas) Jovis rapidum jaculata e nubibus ignem.”
  • —Virgil, Æn I. 46

  And Wakefield compares Callim, Lavac. Pall, 132. So the aegis, or shield of dark-rushing storms (ἀισσω), belongs to Pallas no less than to Zeus (Il. V. 738).

  [Note 54 (p. 167).]

  • “. . . thou shalt hold
  • An honoured seat beside Erectheus’ home.”

  
  
  Erectheus, who, as his name signifies ([Editor: illegible character]ραζε, Eretz, Heb, Erde, Teut., Earth), was the earth-born, or Adam of Attic legend, had a temple on the Acropolis, beside the temple of the city-protecting (πολιάς) Pallas, of which the ruins yet remain. The cave of the Furies was on the Hill of Mars, directly opposite.—See Introductory Remarks.

  [Note 55 (p. 168).]

  • “. . . save my city
  • From brothered strife, and from domestic brawls.”

  
  
  It was a principle with the Romans that no victory in a civil war should be followed by a triumph; and, accordingly, in the famous triumph of Julius Cæsar, which lasted three days, there was nothing to remind the Roman eye that the conqueror of Pharsalia had ever plucked a leaf from Pompey’s laurels. In v. 826, I read with Mul. ’ου δόμοις παρων, the present reading, μόλις, being clumsy any way that I have seen it translated.

  [Note 56 (p. 169).]

  • “The fortress of gods.”

  
  
  This designation is given to Athens with special reference to the Persian wars; for the Persians destroyed everywhere the temples of the Greek gods (only in the single case of Delos are they said to have made an exception), and the Athenians, in conquering the Persians, saved not only their own lives, but the temples of the gods from destruction.

  [Note 57 (p. 169).]

  • “Woe to the wretch, by their wrath smitten.”

  
  
  Well., as usual, is too cautious in not changing μὴ κύρσας into δὴ κύρσας with Pauw and Mül., or μὴν with Lin. and Schoe.

  [Note 58 (p 169)]

  • “Not for his own, for guilt inherited.”

  
  
  “The sins of the fathers, as in the Old Testament, so also among the Greeks, are visited on the children even to the third and fourth generation; nay, even the idea of original sin, derived from the Titanic men of the early ages, and exhibiting itself as a rebellious inclination against the gods more or less in all—this essentially Christian idea was not altogether unknown to the ancient Greeks.”—Schoemann.

  [Note 59 (p. 170)]

  • “And, when Hermes is near thee.”

  
  
  What we call a “god-send,” or a “wind-fall,” was called by the Greeks [Editor: illegible character]ρμαιον, or a thing given by the grace of Hermes. In his original capacity as the patron god of Arcadian shepherds, Hermes was, in like manner, looked on as the giver of patriarchal wealth in the shape of flocks.—Il. xiv. 490.

  [Note 60 (p 170).]

  • “Ye Fates, high-presiding.”

  
  
  There is no small difficulty in this passage, from the state of the text; but, unless it be the Furies themselves that are spoken of, as Kl imagines (Theol. p. 45), I cannot think there are any celestial powers to whom the strong language of the Strophe will apply but the Fates If the former supposition be adopted, we must interrupt the chaunt between Athena and the Furies, putting this Strophe into the mouth of the Areopagites, as, indeed, Kl. proposes; but this seems rather a bold measure, and has found no favour. It remains, therefore, only to make such changes in the text as will admit of the application of the whole passage to the Fates, who stand in the closest relation to the Furies, as is evident from Strophe III. of the chorus (p. 146 above). This Mül. has done; and I follow him, not, however, without desiring some more distinct proof that ματροκασιγνη̂ται, in Greek, can possibly mean sisters.—See Schoe.’s note.

  [Note 61 (p. 170).]

  • “Jove, that rules the forum, nobly
  • In the high debate hath conquered.”

  
  
  Ζεὺς ἀγορα̂ιος. The students of Homer may recollect the appeal of Telemachus to the Ithacans in council assembled (Odys. II. 68). Jove, as we have already had occasion to remark, has a peculiar right of presidency over every grand event of human life, and every important social institution; so that, on certain occasions, the Greek Polytheism becomes, for the need, a Monotheism—somewhat after the same fashion as the aristocratic Government of the old Roman Republic had the power of suddenly changing itself, on important occasions, into an absolute monarchy, by the creation of a Dictator.

  [Note 62 (p. 172).]

  • “Gracious-minded sisterhood.”

  
  
  The Furies were called Ευμενίδες, or gracious, to propitiate their stern deity by complimentary language. Suidas says (voc. Ευμενίδες) that Athena, in this play, calls the Furies expressly by this name; but the fact is, that it does not occur in the whole play. Either, therefore, the word ἔυϕρων, which I have translated “gracious-minded” in the play, must be considered to have given occasion to the remark of the lexicographer (which seems sufficient), or, with Hermann and Schoe., we must suppose something to have fallen out of the present speech.
  
  note
  
  On p. 132, after the dramatis persona, I perceive that I have stated that the scene of this piece changes from Delphi to the Hill of Mars, Athens. This is either inaccurate, or, at least, imperfect; for the first change of scene is manifestly (as stated p. 148), to the temple of Athena Pallas, on the Acropolis; and, though the imagination naturally desires that the institution of the Court of the Areopagus should take place on the exact seat of its future labours, yet the construction of the drama by no means necessitates another change of scene, and the allusion to the Hill of Mars in p 162 is easily explicable on the supposition that it lies directly opposite the Acropolis, and that Pallas points to it with her finger.

  [* ]Classical Museum, No. XV. p. 1.

  [* ]Buck (Introduction, p. xiii.) has very aptly compared here the position of Antigone, in the well-known play of that name, and the half-approving, half-condemning tone of the Chorus in that play

  [* ]The most remarkable passages of the ancients where reference is made to the Prometheus Unbound of Æschylus are.—Cicero, Tusc II. 10, Arrian. Periplus Pont. Eux. p. 19; Strabo, Lib I p. 33 and IV. 182-3; Plutarchus vit Pompeii, init.; Athenæus. XV p 672, Cas.

  [† ]“Veniat Æschylus non poeta solum, sed etiam Pythagoreus. Sic enim accepimus. Quo modo fert apud eum Prometheus dolorem, quem excipit ob furtum Lemnium “—Tusc Quast. II. 10, Welcker, Prilogie, p. 7.

  [‡ ]“Chorus consilietur amicis.”—Horace.

  [* ]On the stage, of course, her transmutation can only be indicated by the presence of a pair of ox horns on her virgin forehead.

  [* ]ἡ ποικιλείμων νύξ. Buntgewandige—Schoe. “Various-vested Night.”—Coleridge, in a Sonnet to the Autumnal Moon.

  [* ]ἀιθέριον κίνυγμα.

  [* ]Saturn the father of Jove.

  [† ]“And the Lord said, I will destroy man whom I have created from the face of the earth, both man and beast, and the creeping thing, and the fowls of the air: for it repenteth me that I have made him”—Gen. vi. 7.

  [* ]The Sea of Azof

  [* ]

  • “Of all the things that breathe the air, and creep upon the Earth,
  • The weakest thing that breathes and creeps on nurturing Earth is Man.”
  • Homer’s Odvs. xviii. 130.

  [* ]i.e. Delphi —See Schol. to Iliad II. 519.

  [* ]Rhea’s bosomed sea—the Hadriatic.

  [† ]The Ionian sea.

  [* ]The Danaids, daughters of Danaus, who colonized Argos from Egypt This forms the subject of the next plav—the Suppliants.

  [* ]See the Agamemnon, Note 15

  [* ]Compare Odyssey, I. 32.

  [Note 1 (p. 183).]

  • “This Scythian soil, this wild untrodden waste”

  
  
  “The ancient Greek writers called all the Northern tribes (i.e. all who dwelt in the Northern parts of Europe and Asia) generally by the name of Scythians and Celto-Scythians; while some even more ancient than these make a division, calling those beyond the Euxine, Ister, and Adria, Hyperboreans, Sarmatians, and Arimaspi; but those beyond the Caspian Sea, Sacæ and Massagetæ.” Strabo, Lib. XI. p. 507.—Stan.

  [Note 2 (p 183).]

  • “This daring wretch”

  
  
  λεωργὸν, a difficult word; “evil-doer”—Med. and Prow.;Bosewicht—Toelp.;Freveler—Schoe. The other translation of this word—“artificer of man” (Potter)—given in the Etym. was very likely an invention of Lexicographers to explain this very passage. But the expounders did not consider that Æschylus through the whole play makes no allusion to this function of the fire-worker. It was, I believe, altogether a recent form of the myth.—See Weiske. “The precise etymology of the word is uncertain.”—Lin.

  [Note 3 (p 183).]

  • “. . . a kindred god”

  
  
  “A fellow deity”—Med. But this is not enough. Vulcan, as a smith, and Prometheus were kindred in their divine functions, for which reason they were often confounded in the popular legends, as in the case of the birth of Pallas from the brain of Jove, effected by the axe, some say of Hephaestus, some of Prometheus—Apollodor. I. 3-6. Euripid. Ion. 455; from which passage of the tragedian Welcker is of opinion that Prometheus, not Hephaetus, must have a place in the pediment of the Parthenon representing the birth of Pallas.—Class. Museum, Vol. II. p. 385.

  [Note 4 (p. 183).]

  • “High-counselled son
  • Of right-decreeing Themis”

  
  
  Not Clymene according to the Theogony (V. 508) or Asia, one of the Oceanides according to Apollodorus (I. 2), which parentage has been adopted by Shelley in his Prometheus Unbound. That Æschylus in preferring this maternity meant to represent the Titan as suffering in the cause of Right against Might, as Welcker will have it (Trilog p. 42), is more than doubtful. One advantage, however, is certainly gained, viz., that Prometheus is thus brought one degree further up the line of ascent in direct progress from the two original divinities of the Theogony—Uranus or Heaven, and Gee or the Earth; for, according to Hesiod, Themis is the daughter, Clymene only the grand-daughter, of these primeval powers (Theog. 135, 315). Thus, Prometheus is invested with more dignity, and becomes a more worthy rival of Jove.

  [Note 5 (p 183).]

  • “. . . saviour shall be none.”

  
  
  I entirely agree with Schoe. that in the indefinite expression—ο̂ λωϕήσων γὰρ ὀυ πέϕυκέ πω any allusion, such as the Scholiast suggests, to Hercules, the person by whom salvation did at length come, would be in the worst possible taste here, and quite foreign to the tone of the passage.

  [Note 6 (p. 184).]

  • “Jove is not weak that he should bend.”

  
  
  This character of harshness and inexorability belongs as essentially to Jove as to the Fates. Pallas, in the Iliad, makes the same complaint—

  • “But my father, harsh and cruel, with no gentle humour raging,
  • Thwarts my will in all things”
  • Iliad VIII 360

  We must bear in mind that Jove represents three things—(1) that iron firmness of purpose which is so essential to the character of a great ruler; (2) the impetuous violence and resistless power of the heavenly elements when in commotion; (3) the immutability of the laws of Nature.

  [Note 7 (p 184).]

  • “All things may be, but this
  • To dictate to the gods.”

  
  
  Ἅπαντ ἐπράχθη πλὴν θεο̂ισι κοιρανεɩ̂ν—literally, all things have been done, save commanding the gods. I do not know whether there is any philological difficulty in the way of this translation It certainly agrees perfectly well with the context, and has the advantage of not changing the received text. Schoe., however, adopting Herm.’s emendation of ἐπαχθη̂ translates—

  • “Last trägt ein jeder, nur der Götter König nicht.”
  • “All have their burdens save the king of the gods.”

  On the theological sentiment, I would compare that of Seneca—“In regno nati sumus; Deo parere libertas est” (Vit. Beat. 15)—and that of Euripides, where the captive Trojan queen, finding the king of men, Agamemnon, willing to assist her, but afraid of the opinion of the Greeks, speaks as follows:—

  • “Ουκἔστι θνητωˆν [Editor: illegible character]στις ὲστ ’ελέυθερος,
  • [Editor: illegible character] χρημάτων γαρ δο̂υλος ὲστιν ἡ τύχης
  • η πλη̂θος άυτὸν πόλεως, [Editor: illegible character] νόμων γράϕαι
  • [Editor: illegible character]ιργουσι χρη̂σθαι μὴ κατὰ γνωˆμην τρόποις.”
  • Hec. 864.

  [Note 8 (p. 185).]

  • “Thou hast been called
  • In vain the Provident.”

  
  
  This is merely translating Prometheus (from προ before, and μη̂τις counsel) into English. These allusions to names are very frequent in Æschylus—so much so as to amount to a mannerism; but we who use a language, the heritage of years, a coinage from which the signature has been mostly rubbed off, must bear in mind that originally all words, and especially names, were significant. See the Old Testament everywhere (particularly Gen. c. xxix. and xli., with which compare Homer, Odyssey xix. 407). And, indeed, in all original languages, like Greek or German, which declare their own etymology publicly to the most unlearned, no taunt is more natural and more obvious than that derived from a name. Even in Scotland, a man who is called Bairnsfather will be apt to feel rather awkward if he has no children. “In the oldest Greek legend,” says Welcker (Tril. p. 356), “names were frequently invented, in order to fix down the character or main feature of the story”—(so Bunyan in the Pilgrim’s Progress)—a true principle, which many German writers abuse, to evaporate all tradition into mere fictitious allegory But the practice of the Old Testament patriarchs shows that the significancy of a name affords of itself no presumption against its historical reality.

  [Note 9 (p. 185)]
  
  Prometheus. The critics remark with good reason the propriety of the stout-hearted sufferer observing complete silence up to this point. It is natural for pain to find a vent in words, but a proud man will not complain in the presence of his adversary. Compare the similar silence of Cassandra in the Agamemnon; and for reasons equally wise, that of Faust in the Auerbach cellar scene. So true is it that a great poet, like a wise man, is often best known, not by what he says, but by what he does not say—(και τη̂ς ἂγαν γάρ έστί που σιγη̂ς βάρος, as Sophocles has it). As to the subject of the beautiful invocation here made by the Titan sufferer, the reader will observe not merely its poetical beauty (to which there is something analogous in Manfred, act I. sc. 2—

  • “My mother Earth,
  • And thou fresh-breaking day, and you, ye mountains,
  • And thou the bright eye of the Universe,”)

  but also its mythological propriety in the person of the speaker, as in the early times the original elementary theology common to the Greeks with all polytheists, had not been superseded by those often sadly disguised impersonations which are represented by the dynasty of Jove. Ocean and Hyperion (ὑπερίων—he that walks aloft) are named in the Theogony, along with Themis and Iapetus, as the first generation of gods, directly begotten from Heaven and Earth.—(Theog. 133-4.) In the natural progress of religious opinion, this original cosmical meaning of the Greek gods, though lost by anthropomorphism to the vulgar, was afterwards brought out by the natural philosophers, and by the philosophical poets; of which examples occur everywhere among the later classics. Indeed, the elemental worship seems never to have been altogether exploded, but continued to exist in strange confusion along with the congregation of fictitious persons to which it had given birth. So in Homer, Agamemnon prays—

  • “Father Jove from Ida swaying, god most glorious and great,
  • And thou Sun, the all-perceiving and all-hearing power, and ye
  • Rivers and Earth,” etc.
  • —Il III 277

  [Note 10 (p. 185).]

  • “The multitudinous laughter.”

  
  
  ἀνήριθμον γέλασμα. I must offer an apology here for myself, Mr. Swayne, and Captain Medwyn, because I find we are in a minority. The Captain, indeed, has paraphrased it a little—

  • “With long loud laughs, exulting to be free,”

  but he retains the laugh, which is the stumbling-block. Swayne has
  
  

  • “Ye ocean waves
  • That with incessant laughter bound and swell
  • Countless,”

  also a little paraphrased, but giving due prominence to the characteristic idea. E. P. Oxon. has
  
  

  • “Ocean smiling with its countless waves,”

  with a reference to Stanley’s note, “Refertur ad levem sonum undarum ventis exagitatarum qui etiam aliquantulum crispant maris dorsum quasi amabili quadam γελασιᾳ,” in which words we see the origin of Pot.’s—
  
  

  • “Ye waves
  • That o’er the interminable ocean wreathe
  • Your crisped smiles.”

  Prow. has—
  
  

  • “Dimpled in multitudinous smiles.”

  And Schoe.’s—
  
  

  • “Zahllosses Blinken”

  And so Blom. in a note, emphatically—
  
  

  • “Lenis fluctuum agitatio”

  But why all this gentleness? Does it agree either with the strength of the poet’s genius, or with the desolation of the wild scene around his hero? I at once admit that γελάω is often used in Greek, where, according to our usage, smile would be the word; but in the Old Testament we find the broad strong word laugh often retained in descriptions of nature; and I see not the least reason for walking in satin shoes here.

  [Note 11 (p. 186).]

  • “. . . in a reed concealed it.”

  
  
  νάρθηξ—“still used for this purpose in Cyprus, where the reed still retains the old Greek name”—Welcker,Tril. p. 8, who quotes Walpole’s Memoirs relative to Turkey, p. 284, and Tournefort, Letter 6. I recollect at school smoking a bit of bamboo cane for a cigar.

  [Note 12 (p 186).]

  • “. . . Ah me! ah me! who comes?”

  
  
  The increased agitation of mind is here expressed in the original by the abandonment of the Iambic verse, and the adoption of the Bacchic—τίς ἀχὼ, etc., which speedily passes into the anapæst, as imitated by my Trochees. Milton was so steeped in Greek, that I think he must have had this passage in his mind when he wrote the lines of Samson Agonistes, v. 110, beginning “But who are these?” Altogether, the Samson is, in its general tone and character, quite a sort of Jewish Prometheus.

  [Note 13 (p. 187).]

  • “Daughters of prolific Tethys.”

  
  
  The ancient sea-goddess, sister and wife of Oceanus, daughter of Heaven and Earth. The reader will observe that the mythology of this drama preserves a primeval or, according to our phrase, antediluvian character throughout. The mythic personages are true contemporaries belonging to the most ancient dynasty of the gods. For this reason Ocean appears in a future stage of the play, not Poseidon. Tethys, with the other Titans and Titanesses are enumerated by Hesiod, Theog. 132-7, as follows—

  • “Earth to Uranus wedded bore Ocean deep with whirling currents,
  • Coeus, Creios, Hyperion, Theia, Rhea, Iapetus,
  • Themis, Mnemosyne, lovely Tethys, likewise Phœbe golden-crowned,
  • Then the youngest of them all, deep-designing Kronos”

  As for the epithet prolific applied to Tethys, the fecundity of fish is a proverb in natural history; but I suppose it is rather the infinite succession of waves on the expanded surface of Ocean that makes his daughters so numerous in the Theogony (362)—

  • “Thrice ten hundred they are counted delicate-ancled Ocean maids.”

  [Note 14 (p 187).]

  • “. . . the giant trace
  • Of Titan times hath vanished.”

  
  
  Here we have distinctly indicated that contrast between the old and the new gods, which Æschylus makes so prominent, not only in this play, but also in the Furies. The conclusion has been drawn by various scholars that Æschylus was secretly unfavourable to the recognised dynasty of Jove, and that his real allegiance was to these elder gods. But the inference is hasty and unauthorised. His taste for the sublime led him into these primeval ages, as it also did Milton: that is all we can say.

  [Note 15 (p. 188).]

  • “. . . the new-forged counsels
  • That shall hurl him from his throne.”

  
  
  The new-forged counsels were of Jove’s own devising—viz., that he should marry Thetis; of which marriage, if it should take place, the son was destined to usurp his father’s throne.—Scholiast.

  [Note 16 (p 188)]

  • “O, ’tis hard, most hard to reach
  • The heart of Jove!”

  
  
  Inexorability is a grand characteristic of the gods.

  • “Desine fata deum flecti sperare precando”
  • —Virg, Æn. VI.

  And so Homer makes Nestor say of Agamemnon, vainly hoping to appease the wrath of Pallas Athena, by hecatombs—
  
  

  • “Witless in his heart he knew not what dire sufferings he must bear,
  • For not lightly from their purposed counsel swerve the eternal gods”
  • Odys III. 147.

  And of Jove, in particular, Hera says to Themis, in the council of the gods—

  • “Well thou knowest
  • How the Olympian’s heart is haughty, and his temper how severe.”
  • —Iliad XV. 94.

  [Note 17 (p. 188).]

  • “My mother Themis, not once but oft, and Earth
  • (One shape of various names).”

  
  
  Æschylus does not and could not confound these two distinct persons, as Pot. will have it.—See Eumenides, 2. Schoe. has stated the whole case very clearly. Pot. remarks with great justice, that a multiplicity of names “is a mark of dignity;” it by no means follows, however, that Themis, in this passage, is one of those many names which Earth receives. In illustration we may quote a passage from the Kurma Ouran (Kennedy’s Researches on Hindoo Mythology; London, 1831; p. 208)—“That,” says Vishnu, pointing to Siva, “is the great god of gods, shining in his own refulgence, eternal, devoid of thought, who produced thee (Brahma), and gave to thee the Vedas, and who likewise originated me, and gave me various names.” Southey, in the roll of celestial dramatis personæ prefixed to the Curse of Kehama, says “that Siva boasts as many as one thousand and eight names.”

  [Note 18 (p 189).]

  • “Suspicion’s a disease that cleaves to tyrants,
  • And they who love most are the first suspected.”

  
  
  “Nam regibus boni quam mali suspectiores sunt, semperque his aliena virtus formidolosa est.”—Sall. Cat VII. “In princes fear is stronger than love; therefore it is often more difficult for them to tear themselves from persons whom they hate than to cast off persons whom they love.”—Richter (Titan).

  [Note 19 (p. 189).]

  • “I only of the gods
  • Thwarted his will.”

  
  
  This is one of the passages which has suggested to many minds a comparison between the mythical tortures of the Caucasus and the real agonies of Calvary. The analogy is just so far; only the Greek imagination never could look on Prometheus as suffering altogether without just cause; he suffered for his own sins. This Toepel. p. 71, has well expressed thus—“Prometheus deos laesit ut homines bearet: Christus homines beavit ut suae, Deique patris obsecundaret voluntati.”

  [Note 20 (p. 189).]

  • “. . . in cunning torment stretched.”

  
  
  ἀνηλεωˆς ἐῤῥύθμισμαι—“so bin ich sugerichtet”—Passow. A sort of studious malignity is here indicated. So we say allegorically to trim one handsomely, to dress him, when we mean to punish. The frequent use of this verb ρυθμίζω is characteristic of the Greeks, than whom no people, as has been frequently remarked, seem to have possessed a nicer sense of the beauty of measure and the propriety of limitation in their poetry and works of art. So Sophocles, Antig. 318, has ρυθμίζειν λύπην.

  [Note 21 (p 190)]

  • “Blind hopes of good I planted
  • In their dark breasts”

  
  
  A striking phrase, meaning, however, nothing more, I imagine, according to the use of the Greek writers (and also of the Latins with caecus) than dim, indistinct; neither, indeed, is the phrase foreign to our colloquial English idiom—“The swearing to a blind etcetera they (the Puritans) looked upon as intolerable.”—Calamy’s Life of Baxter. In the well-known story of Pandora, Hesiod relates that, when the lid of the fatal box was opened, innumerable plagues flew out, only Hope remained within.—Works and Days, 84.

  [Note 22 (p. 190).]

  • “And flame-faced fire is now enjoyed by mortals?”

  
  
  Lieutenant-Colonel Collins, in his account of New South Wales (London, 1804), mentions that the wild natives produced fire with much difficulty, and preserved it with the greatest care. The original inhabitants of New Holland, and the wild African bushmen described by Moffat, the missionary, are among the lowest specimens of human nature with which we are acquainted. As for Æschylus, it is evident he follows in this whole piece the notion of primitive humanity given in his introductory chapters by Diodorus, and generally received amongst the ancients, viz., that the fathers of our race were the most weak and helpless creatures imaginable, like the famous Egyptian frogs, as it were, only half developed from the primeval slime

  [Note 23 (p. 191)]
  
  EnterOcean. “This sea god enters,” says Brunoy, quoted by Pot., on “I know not what winged animal—bizarrerie inexplicable.” Very inexplicable certainly; and yet, as the tragedian expressly calls the animal a bird, I do not see why so many translators, both English and German, should insist on making it a steed. The bird certainly was a little anomalous, having, as we learn below, four feet (τετρασκελὴς ὀιωνός, v. 395—a four-footed bira); but it was a bird for all that, and the air was its element. If the creature must have a name, we must even call it a griffin, or a hippogriff, notwithstanding Welcker’s remarks (Tril. p. 26). Those who wish to see its physiognomy more minutely described may consult Aeliean. hist. animal. IV. 27, in an apt passage quoted from Jacobs by Both. There is an ambiguity in the passage which I have translated—

  • “Thought instinctive reined the creature,”

  some applying γνώμῃ not to the animal, but to the will of the rider. So Prow.—
  
  

  • “Following still
  • Each impulse of my guiding will.”

  But for the poetical propriety of my translation I can plead the authority of Southey—
  
  

  • “The ship of Heaven instinct with thought displayed
  • Its living sail, and glides along the sky”
  • Curse of Kehama, VII. 1

  and of Milton—
  
  

  • “The chariot of paternal Deity
  • Instinct with spirit”
  • —VI 750

  and what is much more conclusive in the present instance, that of Homer, whose τιτυσκόμεναι ϕρεσὶ νη̂ες (Odyssey VIII. 556), or self-piloted ships of the Phœnicians, belong clearly to the same mythical family as the self-reined griffin of old Ocean.

  [Note 24 (p. 191).]

  • “From my distant caves cerulean.”

  
  
  i.e., in the far West, extreme Atlantic, or “ends of the earth,” according to the Homeric phrase.

  • “To the ends I make my journey of the many-nurturing Earth,
  • There where Ocean, sire of gods, and ancient mother Tethys dwells,
  • They who nursed me in their palace, and my infant strength sustained,’

  says Hera in the Iliad (XIV. 200).

  [Note 25 (p. 192).]

  • “Enough my brother Atlas’ miseries grieve me”

  
  
  The reader will see by referring to the old editions and to Pot. that the following description of the miseries of Atlas and Typhon is, in the MS., given to Ocean; and, it must be confessed, there seems a peculiar dramatic propriety in making the old sea god hold up the fate of the Cilician Blaster as a warning to the son of Iapetus, whom he saw embarked in a similar career of hopeless rebellion against the Thunderer. But philological considerations, well stated by Schoe., have weighed with that editor, as with his predecessors Blom. and Well., whose authority and arguments I am for the present willing to follow, though not without some lingering doubts. The alteration of the text originally proceeded from Elmsley, and the original order of the dialogue is stoutly defended by Toepel. in his notes.

  [Note 26 (p. 192)]

  • “The pillars of Heaven and Earth upon his shoulders.”

  
  
  If the reader is a curious person, he will ask how Atlas when standing on the Earth—in the extreme west of the Earth—could bear the pillars of HeavenandEarth? and the question will be a very proper one; for the fact is that, as Hesiod distinctly states the case, he bore the pillars of Heaven only (Theog. 517). This is, indeed, the only possible idea that could be admitted into a mythology which proceeded on the old principle that the Earth was a flat solid platform in the centre of the Universe, round which the celestial pole (πόλος) wheeled. The phrase “pillars of Heaven and Earth” is, therefore, to a certain extent an improper one; for the Earth, being the stable base of all things, required no pillars to support it. In one sense it is true that the pillars of Atlas are the pillars of Heaven and Earth, viz., in so far as they have Heaven at one end and Earth at the other, which is what Homer means when he says (Odyssey I. 54), that these pillars “γα̂ιάν τε καὶ ὀυρανὸν ἀμϕὶς ἔχουσιν.” And that this is the idea of Æschylus, also, is plain, both from the present passage, and from the Epode of the next following Chorus, where, unless we force in one conjecture of Schutz, or another of Hermann into the text, there is no mention of anything but the celestial pole. In all this I but express in my own words, and with a very decided conviction, the substance of the admirable note in Schoe. to v. 426, Well.

  [Note 27 (p. 192).]

  • “. . . Typhon.”

  
  
  The idea of Typhon is that of a strong windy power, δεινόν ὑβριστήν τ ἄνεμον, according to the express statement of Hesiod (Theog 307). The Greek word Typhon, with which our typhus fever is identical, expresses the state of being swollen or blown up, with this, the other idea of heat, which belongs also to Typhon (Sallust, περὶ θεωˆν, c. 4), is naturally connected. According to the elementary or physical system of mythology, therefore, Typhon is neither more nor less than a simoom or hot wind.

  [Note 28 (p. 193).]

  • “Knowest thou not this, Prometheus, that mild words
  • Are medicines of fierce wrath?”

  
  
  The reader may like to see Cicero’s version of these four lines—

  • “Oceanus Atqui Prometheu te hoc, tenere existimo
  • Mederi posse rationem iracundiæ.”
  • “Prom Si quidem qui tempestivam medicinam admovens
  • Non ad gravescens vulnus illidat manus.”
  • Tusc. Q., III. 31.

  [Note 29 (p 194).]

  • “. . . holy Asia weep
  • For thee, Prometheus”

  
  
  Here, and in the epithet of the rivers in the Epode (compare Homer’s Odyssey X 351, ἱερων ποταμων, and Nagelsbach, Homer, Theologie, p. 85), the original word is ἁγνος, a term to be particularly noted, both in the heathen writers and in the Old Testament, as denoting that religious purity in connection with external objects and outward ceremonies which the Christian sentiment confines exclusively to the moral state of the soul. I have thought it important, in all cases, to retain the Greek phrase, and not by modernizing to dilute it. The religious sentiment in connection with external nature is what the moderns generally do not understand, and least of all the English, whose piety does not readily exhibit itself beyond the precincts of the church porch. The Germans, in this regard, have a much more profound sympathy with the Greek mind.

  [Note 30 (p. 194).]

  • “. . . Araby’s wandering warriors weep
  • For thee, Prometheus.”

  
  
  Arabia certainly comes in, to a modern ear, not a little strangely here, between the Sea of Azof and the Caucasus; but the Greeks, we must remember, were a people whose notions of barbarian geography (as they would call it) were anything but distinct; and, in this play, the poet seems wisely to court vagueness in these matters rather than to study accuracy.

  [Note 31 (p 195).]

  • “For, soothly, having eyes to see, they saw not.”

  
  
  With regard to the origin of the human race there are two principal opinions, which have in all times prevailed. One is, that man was originally created perfect, or in a state of dignity far transcending what he now exhibits; that the state in which the earliest historical records present him is a state of declension and aberration from the primeval source; and that the whole progress of what is called civilization is only a series of attempts, for the most part sufficiently clumsy, and always painful, whereby we endeavour to reinstate ourselves in our lost position. This philosophy of history—for so it may most fitly be called—is that which has always been received in the general Christian world, and, indeed, it seems to flow necessarily from the reception of the Mosaic records, not merely as authentic Hebrew documents, but as veritable cosmogony and primeval history—as containing a historical exposition of the creation of the world, and the early history of man. The other doctrine is, that man was originally created in a condition extremely feeble and imperfect; very little removed from vegetable dulness and brutish stupidity; and that he gradually raised himself by slow steps to the exercise of the higher moral and intellectual faculties, by virtue of which he claims successful mastery over the brute, and affinity with the angel This doctrine was very common, I think I may safely say the current and generally received doctrine, among the educated Greeks and Romans; though the poets certainly did not omit, as they so often do, to contradict themselves by their famous tradition of a golden age, which it was their delight to trick out and embellish. In modern times, this theory of progressive development, as it may be called, has, as might have been expected, found little favour, except with philosophers of the French school; and those who have broached it in this country latterly have met with a most hot reception from scientific men, principally, we may presume, from the general conviction that such ideas go directly to undermine the authority of the Mosaic record. It has been thought, also, that there is something debasing and contrary to the dignity of human nature in the supposition that the great-grandfather of the primeval father of our race may have been a monkey, or not far removed from that species; but, however this be, with regard to Æschylus, it is plain he did not find it inconsistent with the loftiest views of human duty and destiny to adopt the then commonly received theory of a gradual development; and, in illustration, I cannot do better than translate a few sentences from Diodorus, where the same doctrine is stated in prose. “Men, as originally generated, lived in a confused and brutish condition, preserving existence by feeding on herbs and fruits that grew spontaneously. * * * Their speech was quite indistinct and confused, but by degrees they invented articulate speech. * * * They lived without any of the comforts and conveniences of life, without clothing, without habitations, without fire (Prometheus!), and without cooked victuals; and not knowing to lay up stores for future need, great numbers of them died during the winter from the effects of cold and starvation. By which sad experience taught, they learned to lodge themselves in caves, and laid up stores there. By-and-by, they discovered fire and other things pertaining to a comfortable existence. The arts were then invented, and man became in every respect such as a highly-gifted animal might well be, having hands and speech, and a devising mind ever present to work out his purposes.” Thus far the Sicilian (I. 8); and the intelligent reader need not be informed that, to a certain extent, many obvious and patent facts seemed to give a high probability to his doctrine. “Dwellers in caves,” for instance, or “troglodytes,” were well known to the ancients, and the modern reader will find a historical account of them in Strabo, and other obvious places. The Horites (Gen. xiv. 6) were so called from the Hebrew word Hor, a cave—(see Gesenius and Jahn, I. 2-26). But it is needless to accumulate learned references in a matter patent to the most modern observation.—Moffat’s “African Missions” will supply instances of human beings in a state as degraded as anything here described by the poet; and with regard to the aboriginal Australians, I have preserved in my notes the following passage from Collins: “The Australians dwell in miserable huts of bark, all huddled together promiscuously (ἔϕυρον εικη̂ πάντα!) amid much smoke and dirt. Some also live in caves.” I do by no means assert, however, that these creatures are remnants of primeval humanity, according to the development theory; I only say they afford that theory a historic analogy; while, on the other hand, they are equally consistent with the commonly received Christian doctrine, as man is a creature who degenerates from excellence much more readily in all circumstances than he attains to it. These Australians and Africans may be mere imbecile stragglers who have been dropt from the great army of humanity in its march.

  [Note 32 (p. 195).]

  • “Numbers, too,
  • I taught them (a most choice device)”

  
  
  “The Pythagorean tenets of Æschylus here display themselves. It was one of the doctrines attributed to this mysterious sect that they professed to find in numbers, and their combinations, the primordial types of everything cognisable by the mind, whether of a physical or moral nature. They even spoke of the soul as a number.”—Prow. But, apart from all Pythagorean notions, we may safely say—from observation of travellers indeed certainly affirm—that there is nothing in which the civilized man so remarkably distinguishes himself from the savage, as in the power to grasp and handle relations of number. The special reference to Pythagoras in this passage is, I perceive, decidedly rejected by Schoe.; Bergk. and Haupt., according to his statement, admitting it. Of course, such a reference in the mind of the poet can never be proved, only it does no harm to suppose it.

  [Note 33 (p. 196).]

  • “. . . the fire-faced signs.”

  
  
  (ϕλογωπὰ σήματα). Prowett refers this to lightning; but surely, in the present connection, the obvious reference is to the sacrificial flame, from which, as from most parts of the sacrificial ceremony, omens were wont to be taken. When the flame burned bright it was a good omen; when with a smoky and troublous flame, the omen was bad. See a well-known description of this in Sophocles’ Antigone, from the mouth of the blind old diviner Tiresias, when he first enters the stage, v. 1005; and another curious passage in Euripides’ Phœniss 1261.

  [Note 34 (p. 196).]

  • “And who is lord of strong Necessity?”

  
  
  Necessity (Ἀνάγκη), a favourite power to which reference is made by the Greek dramatists, is merely an impersonation of the fact patent to all, that the world is governed by a system of strict and inexorable law, from the operation of which no man can escape. That the gods themselves are subject to this Ἀνάγκη, is a method of expression not seldom used by Heathen writers, but that they had any distinct idea, or fixed theological notion of Necessity or Fate, as a power separate from and superior to the gods I see no reason to believe.—See my observations on the Homeric μοɩ̂ρα in Clas. Mus., No. XXVI., p. 437. And in the same way that Homer talks of the fate from the gods, so the tragedians talk of necessity from or imposed by the gods—τὰς γὰρ έκ θεωˆν ἀνάγκας θνητον ὀντα δεɩ̂ ϕέρειν. With regard to Æschylus, certainly one must beware of drawing any hasty inference with regard to his theological creed from this insulated passage. For here the poet adopts the notion of the strict subjection of Jove to an external Fate, principally, one may suppose, from dramatic propriety; it suits the person and the occasion. Otherwise, the Æschylean theology is very favourable to the absolute supremacy of Jove; and, accordingly, in the Eumenides, those very Furies, who are here called his superiors, though they dispute with Apollo, are careful not to be provoked into a single expression which shall seem to throw a doubt on the infallibility of “the Father.” For the rest, the Fates and Furies, both here and in the Eumenides, are aptly coupled, and, in signification, indeed, are identical; because a man’s fate in this world can never be separated from his conduct, nor his conduct from his conscience, of which the Furies are the impersonation.

  [Note 35 (p. 196).]

  • “No more than others Jove can ’scape his doom.”

  
  
  The idea that the Supreme Ruler of the Universe can ever be dethroned is foreign to every closely reasoned system of monotheism; but in polytheistic systems it is not unnatural (for gods who had a beginning may have an end); and in the Hindoo theology receives an especial prominence. Southey accordingly makes Indra, the Hindoo Jove, say—

  • “A stronger hand
  • May wrest my sceptre, and unparadise
  • The Swerga.”
  • —Curse of Kehama, VII.

  We must bear in mind, however, that it is not Æschylus in the present passage, but Prometheus who says this.

  [Note 36 (p. 197)]

  • “Plant his high will against my weak opinion!”

  
  
  The original of these words, “μηδάμ θε̂ιτ’ εμᾀ γνώμα̂ κράτος ἀντίπαλον Ζεὺς,” has been otherwise translated “Minime Jupiter indat animo meo vim rebellem,” but, apart altogether from theological considerations, I entirely agree with Schoe. that this rendering puts a force upon the word κράτος, which is by no means called for, and which it will not easily bear.

  [Note 37 (p. 197).]

  • “Won by rich gifts didst lead.”

  
  
  Observe here the primitive practice according to which the bridegroom purchased his wife, by rich presents made to the father. In Iliad IX. 288, Agamemnon promises, as a particular favour, to give his daughter in marriage to Achilles ἀνάεδνον, that is, without any consideration in the shape of a marriage gift.

  [Note 38 (p. 197)]
  
  Enter Io. Io is one of those mysterious characters on the border-land between history and fable, concerning which it is difficult to say whether they are to be looked on as personal realities, or as impersonated ideas. According to the historical view of ancient legends, Io is the daughter of Inachus, a primeval king of Argos; and, from this fact as a root, the extravagant legends about her, sprouting from the ever active inoculation of human fancy, branched out. Interpreted by the principles of early theological allegory, however, she is, according to the witness of Suidas, the Moon, and her wanderings the revolutions of that satellite. In either view, the immense extent of these wanderings is well explained by mythological writers (1) from the influence of Argive colonies at Byzantium and elsewhere; and (2) from the vain desire of the Greeks to connect their horned virgin Io, with the horned Isis of the Egyptians. It need scarcely be remarked that, if Io means the moon, her horns are as naturally explained as her wanderings. But, in reading Æschylus, all these considerations are most wisely left out of view, the Athenians, no doubt, who introduced this play, believing in the historical reality of the Inachian maid, as firmly as we believe in that of Adam or Methuselah. As little can I agree with Both. that we are called upon to rationalize away the reality of the persecuting insect, whether under the name of ’ο̂ιστρος or μύωψ. In popular legends the sublime is ever apt to be associated with circumstances that either are, or, to the cultivated imagination, necessarily appear to be ridiculous.

  [Note 39 (p. 198)]

  • “. . . save me, O Earth!”

  
  
  I have here given the received traditionary rendering of Αλενˆ [Editor: illegible character] δα̂; but I must confess the appeal to Earth here in this passage always appeared to me something unexpected; and it is, accordingly, with pleasure that I submit the following observations of Schoe. to the consideration of the scholar—“Δα̂ is generally looked on as a dialectic variation of γα̂; and, in conformity with this opinion, Theocritus has used the accusation Δα̂ν. I consider this erroneous, and am of opinion that in Δημητηρ we are rather to understand Δεαμητηρ than Γημητηρ; and δα̂ is to be taken only as an interjection. This is not the place to discuss this matter fully; but, in the meantime, I may mention that Ahrensde dialecta Doricâ, p. 80, has refuted the traditionary notion with regard to δα̂

  [Note 40 (p 198)]
  
  Chorus. With Well., and Schoe, and the MSS., I give this verse to the Chorus, though certainly it is not to be denied that the continuation of the lyrical metre of the Strophe pleads strongly in favour of giving it to Io. It is also certain that, for the sake of symmetry, the last line of the Antistrophe must also be given to the Chorus, as Schoe. has done.

  [Note 41 (p. 199).]

  • “. . . the sisters of thy father, Io.”

  
  
  Inachus, the Argive river, was, like all other rivers, the son of Ocean, and, of course, the brother of the Ocean-maids, the Chorus of the present play. Afterwards, according to the historical method of conception, characteristic of the early legends, the elementary god became a human person—the river was metamorphosed into a king.

  [Note 42 (p. 200)]

  • “. . . Lerne’s bosomed mead.”

  
  
  We most commonly read of the water or fountain of Lerne; this implies a meadow—and this, again, implies high overhanging grounds, or cliffs, of which mention is made in the twenty-third line below. In that place, however, the reading ἄκρην is not at all certain; and, were I editing the text. I should have no objection to follow Pal. in reading Λέρνης τε κρήνην, with Canter. In fixing this point, something will depend upon the actual landscape.

  [Note 43 (p. 201).]

  • “First to the east.”

  
  
  Here begins the narration of the mythical wanderings of Io—a strange matter, and of a piece with the whole fable, which, however, with all its perplexities, Æschylus, no doubt, and his audience, following the old minstrels, took very lightly. In such matters, the less curious a man is. the greater chance is there of his not going far wrong; and to be superficial is safer than to be profound The following causes may be stated as presumptive grounds why we ought not to be surprised at any start ling inaccuracy in geographical detail in legends of this kind.—(1) The Greeks, as stated above, even in their most scientific days, had the vaguest possible ideas of the geography of the extreme circumference of the habitable globe and the parts nearest to it which are spoken of in the passage (2) The geographical ideas of Æschylus must be assumed as more kindred to those of Homer than of the best informed later Greeks. (3) Even supposing Æschylus to have had the most accurate geographical ideas, he had no reasons in handling a Titanic myth to make his geographical scenery particularly tangible; on the contrary, as a skilful artist, the more misty and indefinite he could keep it the better. (4) He may have taken the wanderings of Io, as Welcker still suggests (Trilog 137), literally from the old Epic poem “Aigimius,” or some other traditionary lay as old as Homer, leaving to himself no more discretion in the matter, and caring as little to do so as Shakespere did about the geographical localities in Macbeth, which he borrowed from Hollinshed. For all these reasons I am of opinion that any attempt to explain the geographical difficulties of the following wanderings would be labour lost to myself no less than to the reader; and shall, therefore, content myself with noting seriatim the different points of the progress, and explaining, for the sake of the general reader, what is or is not known in the learned world about the matter:—
  
  (1) The starting-point is not from Mount Caucasus, according to the common representation, but from some indefinite point in the Northern parts of Europe. So the Scholiast on v. 1, arguing from the present passage, clearly concludes; and with him agree Her. and Schoe.; Welcker whimsically, I think, maintaining a contrary opinion.
  
  (2) The Scythian nomads,vid. note on v. 2, supra, their particular customs alluded to here are well known, presenting a familiar ancient analogy to the gipsy life of the present day. The reader of Horace will recall the lines—

  • “Campestres melius Scythae
  • Quorum plaustra vagas rite trahunt domos”
  • —Ode III 24-9.

  and the same poet (III. 4-35) mentions the “quiver-bearing Geloni”; for the bow is the most convenient weapon to all wandering and semi-civilized warriors.
  
  (3) The Chalybs, or Chaldaei, are properly a people in Pontus, at the north-east corner of Asia Minor; but Æschylus, in his primeval Titanic geography, takes the liberty of planting them to the north of the Euxine.
  
  (4) The river Hubristes. The Araxes, says the Scholiast; the Tanais, say others; or the Cuban (Dr. Schmitz in Smith’s Dict.) The word means boisterous or outrageous, and recalls the Virgilian

  • “pontem indignatus Araxes.”

  
  
  (5) The Caucasus, as in modern geography.
  
  (6) The Amazons; placed here in the country about Colchis to the northward of their final settlement in Themiscyre, on the Thermodon, in Pontus, east of the Halys.
  
  (7) Salmydessus, on the Euxine, west of the Symplegades and the Thracian Bosphorus; of course a violent jump in the geography.
  
  (8) The Cimmerian Bosphorus, between the Euxine and the Sea of Azof. Puzzling enough that this should come in here, and no mention be made of the Thracian Bosphorus in the whole flight! The word Bosporus means in Greek the passage of the Cow.
  
  (9) The Asian continent; from the beginning a strange wheel! For the rest see below.

  [Note 44 (p. 203).]

  • “When generations ten have passed, the third”

  
  
  This mythical genealogy is thus given by Schutz from Apollodorus. 1. Epaphus; 2. Libya, 3. Belus (see Suppliants, p. 228, above); 4. Danaus, 5. Hypermnestra; 6. Abas; 7. Proetus; 8. Acrisias; 9. Danae; 10. Perseus; 11. Electryon, 12. Alcmena; 13. Heracles.

  [Note 45 (p 203).]

  • “When thou hast crossed the narrow stream that parts.”

  
  
  I now proceed with the mythical wanderings of the “ox-horned maid,” naming the different points, and continuing the numbers, from the former Note—
  
  (10) The Sounding Ocean.—Before these words, something seems to have dropt out of the text, what the “sounding sea” (πόντου ϕλο̂ισβος) is, no man can say; but, as a southward direction is clearly indicated in what follows, we may suppose the Caspian, with Her.; or the Persian Gulf, with Schoe.
  
  (11) The Gorgonian Plains.—“The Gorgons are conceived by Hesiod to live in the Western Ocean, in the neighbourhood of Night, and the Hesperides; but later traditions place them in Libya.”—Dr. Schmitz, in Smith’s Dict.: but Schoe., in his note, quotes a scholiast to Pindar, Pyth. X. 72, which places them near the Red Sea, and in Ethiopia. This latter habitation, of course, agrees best with the present passage of Æschylus.
  
  With regard to Cisthene, the same writer (Schoe.) has an ingenious conjecture, that it may be a mistake of the old copyists, for the Cissians, a Persian people, mentioned in the opening chorus to the play of the Persians.
  
  (12) The country of the Griffins, the Arimaspi, and the river Pluto. The Griffins and the Arimaspi are well known from Herodotus and Strabo, which latter, we have seen above (Note 1), places them to the north of the Euxine Sea, as a sub-division of the Scythians. Æschylus, however, either meant to confound all geographical distinctions, or followed a different tradition, which placed the Arimaspi in the south, as to which see Schoe. “The river Pluto is easily explained, from the accounts of golden-sanded rivers in the East which had reached Greece.”—Schoe.
  
  (13) The river Aethiops seems altogether fabulous.
  
  (14) The “Bybline Heights,” meaning the κατάδουπα (Herod. II. 17), or place where the Nile falls from the mountains.—Lin.in voce καταβασμός, which is translated pass. No such place as Byblus is mentioned here by the geographers, in want of which Pot. has allowed himself to be led, by the Scholiast, into rather a curious error. The old annotator, having nothing geographical to say about this Byblus, thought he might try what etymology could do; so he tells us that the Bybline Mountains were so called from the Byblos or Papyrus that grew on them. This Potter took up and gave—

  • “Where from the mountains with papyrus crowned
  • The venerable Nile impetuous pours,”

  overlooking the fact that the papyrus is a sedge, and grows in flat, moist places.

  [Note 46 (p. 204).]

  • “. . . the sacred Nile
  • Pours his salubrious flood”

  
  
  ἔυποτον ρέος, literally, good for drinking The medicinal qualities of the Nile were famous in ancient times. In the Suppliants, v. 556, our poet calls the Nile water, νόσοις ἄθικτον, not to be reached by diseases; and in v 835, the nurturing river that makes the blood flow more buoyantly. On this subject, the celebrated Venetian physician, Prosper Alpin, in his Rerum Ægyptiarum, Lib. IV. (Lugd. Bat. 1735) writes as follows: “Nili aqua merito omnibus aliis præfertur quod ipsa alvum subducat, menses pellat ut propterea raro mensium suppressio in Ægypti mulieribus reperiatur. Potui suavis est, et dulcís; sitim promptissime extinguit; frigida tuto bibitur, concoctionem juvat, ac distributioni auxilio est, minime hypochondriis gravis corpus firmum et coloratum reddit,” etc.—Lib. I. c. 3. If the water of the Nile really be not only pleasant to drink, but, strictly speaking, of medicinal virtue, it has a companion in the Ness, at Inverness, the waters of which are said to possess such a drastic power, that they cannot be drunk with safety by strangers.

  [Note 47 (p 204).]

  • “. . . thence with mazy course
  • Tossed hither.”

  
  
  I quite agree with Schoe. that, in the word παλιμπλάγκτος, in this passage, we must understand πάλιν to mean to and fro, not backwards. With a backward or reverted course from the Adriatic, Io could never have been brought northward to Scythia. The maziness of Io’s course arises naturally from the fitful attacks of the persecuting insect of which she was the victim. A direct course is followed by sane reason, a zigzag course by insane impulse.

  [Note 48 (p. 204).]

  • “. . . Epaphus, whose name shall tell
  • The wonder of his birth.”

  
  
  As Io was identified with Isis, so Epaphus seems merely a Greek term for the famous bull-god Apis.—(Herod. III. 27, and Muller’s Prolegom. myth.) The etymology, like many others given by the ancients, is ridiculous enough; ὲπαϕἡ, touch. This derivation is often alluded to in the next play, The Suppliants. With regard to the idea of a virgin mother so prominent in this legend of Io, Prow. has remarked that it occurs in the Hindoo and in the Mexican mythology; but nothing can be more purile than the attempt which he mentions as made by Faber to connect this idea with the “promise respecting the seed of the woman made to man at the fall.” Sound philosophy will never seek a distant reason for a phenomenon, when a near one is ready. When an object of worship or admiration is once acknowledged as superhuman, it is the most natural thing in the world for the imagination to supply a superhuman birth. A miraculous life flows most fitly from a miraculous generation. The mother of the great type of Roman warriors is a vestal, and his father is the god of war. Romans and Greeks will wisely be left to settle such matters for themselves, without the aid of “patriarchal traditions” or “the prophecy of Isaiah.” The ancient Hellenes were not so barren, either of fancy or feeling, as that they required to borrow matters of this kind from the Hebrews. On the idea of “generation by a god” generally, see the admirable note in Grote’s History of Greece, P. I c. 16 (Vol. I. p 471).

  [Note 49 (p. 207).]

  • “. . . they are wise who worship Adrastéa”

  
  
  “A surname of Nemesis, derived by some writers from Adrastus, who is said to have built the first sanctuary of Nemesis on the river Asopus (Strabo XIII p 588), and by others from the verb διδράσκειν, according to which it would signify the goddess whom none could escape.”—Dr. Schmitz. On this subject, Stan. has a long note, where the student will find various illustrative references.

  [Note 50 (p. 209).]

  • “For wilful strength that hath no wisdom in it
  • Is less than nothing.”

  
  
  The word in the original, ἀυθαδιά, literally “self-pleasing,” expresses a state of mind which the Greeks, with no shallow ethical discernment, were accustomed to denounce as the great source of all those sins whose consequences are the most fearful to the individual and to society. St. Paul, in his epistle to Titus (i. 7), uses the same word emphatically to express what a Christian bishop should not be (ἀυθὰδη, self-willed). The same word is used by the blind old soothsayer Tiresias in the Antigone, when preaching repentance to the passionate and self-willed tyrant of Thebes, ἀυθαδιά τοι σκαιότητ ὀϕλισκάνει, where Donaldson gives the whole passage as follows:—

  • “Then take these things to heart, my son; for error
  • Is as the universal lot of man,
  • But, whensoe’er he errs, that man no longer
  • Is witless, or unblest, who, having fallen
  • Into misfortune, seeks to mend his ways,
  • And is not obstinate: the stiff-necked temper
  • Must oft plead guilty to the charge of folly.”
  • Sophocles, Antig. v. 1028.

  [Note 51 (p. 209).]

  • “. . . unless some god endure
  • Vicarious thy tortures.”

  
  
  The idea of vicarious sacrifice, or punishment by substitution of one person for another, does not seem to have been very familiar to the Greek mind; at least, I do not trace it in Homer. It occurs, however, most distinctly in the well-known case of Menœceus, in Euripides’ play of the Phænissæ. In this passage, also, it is plainly implied, though the word διάδοχος, strictly translated, means only a successor, and not a substitute.Welck. (Trilog. p 47) has pointed out that the person here alluded to is the centaur Chiron, of whom Apollodorus (II. 5-11-12) says that “Hercules, after freeing Prometheus, who had assumed the olive chaplet (Welck. reads ὲλόμένον), delivered up Chiron to Jove willing, though immortal, to die in his room (θνήσκειν ἀντ’ ἁυτου). This is literally the Christian idea of vicarious death. The Druids, according to Cæsar (b. c. VI. 16), held the doctrine strictly—“pro vita hominis nisi hominis vita reddatur non posse aliter deorum immortalium numen placari.” Of existing heathens practising human sacrifice, the religious rites of the Khonds in Orissa present the idea of vicarious sacrifice in the most distinct outline. See the interesting memoir of Captain M‘Pherson in Blackwood’s Magazine for August, 1842.

  [Note 52 (p. 210).]

  • “Seems he not a willing madman,
  • Let him reap the fruits he sowed.”

  
  
  I have translated these lines quite freely, as the text is corrupt, and the emendations proposed do not contain any idea worth the translator’s adopting. Schoe. reads—

  • Τί γὰρ ἐλλείπει μὴ παραπάιειν
  • Ἐι τάδ ἐπαυχεɩ̂ τί χαλ[Editor: illegible character] μανιωˆν;

  and translates
  
  

  • Was fehlet ihm noch wahnwitzig zo seyn,
  • Wenn also er pocht? Wie zahmt er die Wuth?

  Prow. from a different reading, has

  • To thee, if this resolve seems good,
  • Why shouldst thou check thy frenzied mood.

  [* ]Vol I., c. 3.

  [† ]Fast., Hellen., Introduc. pp. 6, 7.

  [* ]See Introductory Remarks to the Eumenides.

  [† ]The usual insignia of Suppliants Wool was commonly used in the adornment of insignia hallowed by religion —See Dict Antiq, voc. infula and apex; and Note 72 to the Choephoræ, and Clem. Alex Prot. § 10

  [* ]Epaphus and Io

  [† ]Epaphus, from ἑπαϕὴ. See Note 3 immediately above.

  [* ]This is explained by what follows An augur, of course, was the proper person to recognise the notes of birds, or what resembled them.

  [† ]See Note 76 to Agamemnon.

  [* ]Pal quotes from Massinger’s Emperor of the East, “To a sad tune I sing my own dirge,“ which I have adopted.

  [* ]Artemis, or Diana.

  [† ]τον πολυξενώτατον Ζη̂να, that is, Pluto.

  [* ]See Note 46 to the Eumenides

  [* ]See Iliad viii. 69, and other passages, describing the “golden scales of Jove,” in which the fates of men are weighed.

  [* ]See the Agamemnon, Note 94.

  [* ]See Paley.

  [* ]Cyprus.

  [† ]See Prometheus Bound, p. 192 above.

  [‡ ]See Prometheus Bound, p 204 and Note 46.

  [* ]In this very perplexed passage I follow Pal. Bothe’s conjecture, Αργεɩ̂ος, is very happy.

  [* ]A promontory in Cilicia —Strabo, p. 670. Pal.

  [* ]πρόξενοι.—See Note 19 to page 226 above.

  [* ]“Potui humor ex hordeo aut frumento in quandam similitudinem vini corruptus.’—Tacitus de mor. Geom. c. 23.

  [* ]Venus.

  [* ]This river and the Inachus flow into the Argolic gulf, both near the city of Argos, taking their rise in the mountain ridge that separates Argos from Arcadia.

  [* ]The goddess of Persuasion.

  [Note 1 (p. 219).]

  • “Jove the suppliant’s high protector.”

  
  
  Ζεὺς ἀϕίκτωρ, literally suppliant Jove, the epithet which properly belongs to the worshipper being transferred to the object of worship. The reader will note here another instance of the monotheistic element in Polytheism, so often alluded to in these Notes. Jove, as the supreme moral governor of the universe, has a general supervision of the whole social system of gods and men; and specially where there is no inferior protector, as in the case of fugitives and suppliants—there he presses with all the weight of his high authority. In such cases, religion presents a generous and truly humanizing aspect, and the “primus in orbe Deos fecit timor” of the philosophers loses its sting.

  [Note 2 (p 219).]

  • “Of the fat fine-sanded Nile!”

  
  
  Wellauer, in his usual over-cautious way, has not received Pauw’s emendation λεπτοψαμάθων into his text, though he calls it certissimum in his notes. Pal., whom I follow, acts in these matters with a more manly decision. Even without the authority of Pliny (XXXV. 13), I should adopt so natural an emendation, where the text is plainly corrupt.

  [Note 3 (p. 219).]

  • “Gently thrilled the brize-stung heifer
  • With his procreant touch.”

  
  
  See p. 204 above, and Note 48 to Prometheus. There prevails throughout this play a constant allusion to the divine significance of the name Epaphus, meaning, as it does, touch. To the Greeks, as already remarked (p. 388), this was no mere punning; and the names of the gods (Note 17, p. 391 above) were one of the strongest instruments of Heathen devotion. That there is an allusion to this in Matthew vi. 7, I have no doubt.

  [Note 4 (p. 219).]

  • “Ye blissful gods supremely swaying.”

  
  
  I see no necessity here, with Pal., for changing [Editor: illegible character]ν πολις into [Editor: illegible character] πολις—but it is a matter of small importance to the translator. Jove, the third, is a method of designating the supreme power of which we have frequent examples in Æschylus—see the Eumenides, p. 164, where Jove the Saviour all-perfecting is mentioned after Pallas and Loxias, as it were, to crown the invocation with the greatest of all names. In that passage τρίτου occurs in the original, which I was wrong to omit.

  [Note 5 (p. 220)]

  • “Marriage beds which right refuses.”

  
  
  In what countries are first cousins forbidden to marry? Welcker does not know. “Das Eherecht worauf diese Weigerung beruht ist nicht bekannt.”—Welcker (Trilog. 391).

  [Note 6 (p. 221).]

  • “With Ionian wailings unstinted.”

  
  
  “Perhaps Ionian is put in this place antithetically to Νειλοθερη̂, from the Nile, in the next line, and the sense is, ‘though coming from Egypt, yet, being of Greek extraction, I speak Greek.’ ”—Paley. This appears to me the simplest and most satisfactory comment on the passage.

  [Note 7 (p. 221).]

  • “From the far misty land.”

  
  
  That is Egypt. So called according to the Etymol. M. quoted by Stan., from the cloudy appearance which the low-lying Delta district presents to the stranger approaching it from the sea.

  [Note 8 (p. 222).]

  • “All godlike power is calm.”

  
  
  It would be unfair not to advertise the English reader that this fine sentiment is a translation from a conjectural reading, πα̂ν ἄπονον δαιμονιων, of Well., which, however, is in beautiful harmony with the context. The text generally in this part of the play is extremely corrupt. In the present stanza, Well.’s correction of δε ἀπιδων into ἐλπίδων deserves to be celebrated as one of the few grand triumphs of verbal criticism that have a genuine poetical value.

  [Note 9 (p. 222).]

  • “Ah! well-a-day! ah! well-a-day!”

  
  
  The reader must imagine here a complete change in the style of the music—say from the major to the minor key. In the whole Chorus, the mind of the singer sways fitfully between a hopeful confidence and a dark despair. The faith in the counsel of Jove, and in the sure destruction of the wicked, so finely expressed in the preceding stanzas, supports the sinking soul but weakly in this closing part of the hymn These alterations of feeling exhibited under such circumstances will appear strange to no one who is acquainted with the human, and especially with the female heart.

  [Note 10 (p. 223).]

  • “Ye Apian hills.”

  
  
  “Apia, an old name for Peloponnesus, which remains still a mystery, even after the attempt of Butmann to throw light upon it.”—Grote, Hist. of Greece, Part I. c. 4. Æschylus’ own account of Apis, the supposed originator of the name Apia, will be found in this play a few lines below. I have consulted Butmann, and find nothing but a conglomeration of vague and slippery etymologies.

  [Note 11 (p. 225).]

  • “. . rounded cars.”

  
  
  καμπύλος, with a bend or sweep; alluding to the form of the rim of the ancient chariot, between the charioteer and the horses. See the figure in Smith’sDict. Antiq., Articles ἄντυξ and currus.

  [Note 12 (p. 225).]

  • “. . . the Agonian gods.”

  
  
  The common meaning that a Greek scholar would naturally give to the phrase θεοɩ̂ ἀγωνιοι is that given by Hesych, viz., gods that preside over public games, or, as I have rendered it in the Agamemnon (p. 57 above), gods that rule the chance of combat. For persons who, like the Herald in that play, had just escaped from a great struggle, or, like the fugitive Virgins in this piece, were going through one, there does not appear to be any great impropriety (notwithstanding Pal.’s.inepte) in an appeal to the gods of combat. Opposed to this interpretation, however, we have the common practice of Homer, with whom the substantive ἀγών generally means an assembly; and the testimony of Eustathius, who, in his notes to that poet, Iliad, Ω 1335, 58, says, “παρ Αισχύλῳ ἀγώνιοι θεοὶ ὁι ἀγορα̂ιοι;” i.e. gods that preside over assemblies.

  [Note 13 (p. 225).]

  • “. . . your sistered hands.”

  
  
  διὰ χερων συνωνύμων. I am inclined to think with Pal. that ἐυωνύμων may be the true reading; i e. in your left hands. And yet, so fond is Æschylus of quaint phrases that I do not think myself at liberty to reject the vulgate, so long as it is susceptible of the very appropriate meaning given in the text. “Hands of the same name” may very well be tolerated for “hands of the same race”—“hands of sisters.”

  [Note 14 (p. 225).]

  • “Even so; and with benignant eye look down!”

  
  
  I have here departed from Well.’s arrangement of this short colloquy between Danaus and his daughters, and adopted Pal.’s, which appears to me to satisfy the demands both of sense and metrical symmetry. That there is something wrong in the received text Well. admits.

  [Note 15 (p. 226).]

  • “There where his bird the altar decorates.”

  
  
  I have here incorporated into the text the natural and unembarrassed meaning of this passage given by Pal. The bird of Jove, of course, is the eagle. What the Scholiast and Stan. say about the cock appears to be pure nonsense, which would never have been invented but for the confused order of the dialogue in the received text.

  [Note 16 (p. 226).]

  • “Apollo, too, the pure, the exiled once.”

  
  
  “They invoke Apollo to help them, strangers and fugitives, because that god himself had once been banished from heaven by Jove, and kept the herds of Admetus.

  • ‘Non ignara mali miseris succurrere disco.’ ”
  • —Stan.

  [Note 17 (p. 226).]

  • “Here, Hermes Likewise, as Greece knows the god.”

  
  
  This plainly points out a distinction between the Greek and the famous Egyptian Hermes. So the Scholiast, and Stan. who quotes Cic., Nat. Deor. III. 22.

  [Note 18 (p 226).]

  • “Can bird eat bird and be an holy thing?”

  
  
  This seems to have been a common-place among the ancients. Pliny, in the following passage, draws a contrast between man and the inferior animals, not much to the honor of the former:—“Cætera animalia in suo genere probe degunt; congregari videmus et stare contra dissimilia; leonum feritas inter se non dimicat; serpentum morsus non petit serpentes; ne maris quidem belluæ ac pisces nisi in diversa genera sæviunt. At hercule homini plarima ex homine sunt mala.”—Nat. Hist. VII. proem. This custom of blackening human nature (which is bad enough, without being made worse) has been common enough also in modern times, especially among a certain school of theologians, very far, indeed, in other respects, from claiming kindred with the Roman polyhistor; but the fact is, one great general law over-rides both man and the brute, viz. this—Like herdswith like—the only difference being that human beings, with a great outward similarity, are characterized by a more various inward diversity than the lower animals. There are, in fact, men of all various kinds represented in the moral world—all those varieties which different races and species exhibit in the physical. There are lamb-men, tiger-men, serpent-men, pigeon-men, and hawk-men. That such discordant natures should sometimes, nay always in a certain sense, strive, is a necessary consequence of their existing.

  [Note 19 (p. 226).]

  • “And of no host the acknowledged guest, unfearing
  • Ye tread this land.”

  
  
  ἀπρόξενος, without a πρόξενος, or a public host or entertainer—one who occupied the same position on the part of the state towards a stranger that a ξάνος or landlord, did to his private guest. In some respects “the office of proxenus bears great resemblance to that of a modern consul or minister resident.”—Dr. Schmitz, in Smith’s Dict., article Hospitium. Compare Southey, Notes to Madoc. I. 5, The Stranger’s House.

  [Note 20 (p. 227).]

  • “Of old earth-born Palæcthon am the son,
  • My name Pelasgus.”

  
  
  Here we have an example of those names of the earliest progenitors of an ancient race that seem to bear fiction on their face; Palaecthon meaning merely the ancient son of the land, and Pelasgus being the name-father of the famous ante-Homeric wandering Greeks, whom we call Pelasgi.

  [Note 21 (p. 227).]

  • “All the land where Algos flows, and Strymon.”

  
  
  The geography here is very confused. I shall content myself with noting the different points from Muller’s map (Dorians)—

  • (1) Algos; unknown.
  • (2) Strymon; a well-known river in Thrace.
  • (3) Perrhæbians; in Thessaly, North of the Peneus (Homer, II. II. 749).
  • (4) Pindus; the well-known mountain ridge in the centre of Northern Greece, separating the great rivers which descend on the one hand through Epirus into the Ionian sea and the Adriatic, on the other, into the Ægean.
  • (5) Pæonia; in the North of Macedonia (Iliad II. 848).
  • (6) Dodona; in Epirus.

  [Note 22 (p. 227).]

  • “Apollo’s son, by double right, physician
  • And prophet both.”

  
  
  This is somewhat of a circumlocution for the single Greek phrase, ἱατρόμαντις, physician-prophet; a name applied to Apollo himself by the Pythoness, in the prologue to the Eumenides (p. 142 above). The original conjunction of the two offices of prophet and leech in the person of Melampus, Apis, Chiron, etc. and their patron Apollo, is a remarkable fact in the history of civilization. The multiplication and isolation of professions originally combined and confounded is a natural enough consequence of the progress of society, of which examples occur in every sphere of human activity; but there is, besides, a peculiar fitness in the conjunction of medicine and theology, arising from the intimate connexion of mind with bodily ailment, too much neglected by some modern drug-minglers, and also, from the fact that, in ancient times, nothing was more common than to refer diseases, especially those of a striking kind, to the immediate interference of the Divine chastiser—(see Hippocrates περὶ ἱερη̂ς νόσου init.). Men are never more disposed to acknowledge divine power than when under the influence of severe affliction; and accordingly we find that, in some savage or semi-savage tribes, the “medicine-man” is the only priest. It would be well, indeed, if, in the present state of advanced science, professional men would more frequently attempt to restore the original oneness of the healing science—(see Max Tyr. πωˆς α̂ν τις ἄλυπος [Editor: illegible character]ιη)—if all medical men would, like the late Dr. Abercrombie, bear in mind that man has a soul as well as a body, and all theologians more distinctly know that human bodies enclose a stomach as well as a conscience, with which latter the operations of the former are often strangely confounded.

  [Note 23 (p. 228).]

  • “. . . Io, on this Argive ground,
  • Erst bore the keys to Hera.”

  
  
  i.e. was priestess of the Argive goddess. The keys are the sign of custodiary authority in modern as in ancient times. See various instances in Stan.

  [Note 24 (p. 228).]

  • “So runs the general rumour.”

  
  
  After this, Well. supposes something has fallen out of the text; but to me a break in the narration of the Chorus, caused by the eagerness of the royal questioner, seems sufficiently to explain the state of the text. Pal. agrees.

  [Note 25 (p. 228).]

  • “Like a leaping bull,
  • Transformed he came.”

  
  
  Βουθόρῳ ταύρῳ. I have softened this expression a little; so modern delicacy compels. The original is quite Homeric—“συωˆν ἐπιβήτορα κάπρον.”—Odyssey XI. 131. Homer and the author of the Book of Genesis agree in expressing natural things in a natural way, equally remote (as healthy nature always is) from fastidiousness and from prudery.

  [Note 26 (p. 228)]
  
  King. A question has evidently dropt here; but it is of no consequence. The answer supplies the first link in the genealogical chain deducing the Danaides from Io and Epaphus. See above, p. 400, Note 44.

  [Note 27 (p. 229).]

  • “Both this and that.”

  
  
  I have translated this difficult passage freely, according to the note of Schutz., as being most comprehensive, and excluding neither the one ground of objection nor the other, both of which seem to have occupied the mind of the virgins. I am not, however, by any means sure what the passage really means E. P. Oxon has—

  • “Who would seek to obtain kindred as masters?”

  Pot.—
  
  

  • “And who would wish to make their friends their lord.”

  Where the real ground of objection is so darkly indicated, a translator is at liberty to smuggle a sort of commentary into the text.

  [Note 28 (p. 229).]

  • “The wrath of suppliant Jove.”

  
  
  i.e. Jove the protector of suppliants. See above, Note 1.

  [Note 29 (p. 230).]

  • “Like a heifer young by the wolf pursued.”

  
  
  The scholar will recognize here a deviation from Well.’s text λευκόστικτον, and the adoption of Hermann’s admirable emendation, λυκοδίωκτον. Pal. has received this into his text, and Lin., generally a severe censor, approves.—Class Museum, No. VII. p. 31. Both on metrical and philological grounds, the reading demands reception.

  [Note 30 (p 230).]

  • “Thou art the state, and the people art thou.”

  
  
  This is a very interesting passage in reference to the political constitution—if the term constitution be here allowable—of the loose political aggregates of the heroic ages. The Chorus, of course, speak only their own feelings; but their feelings, in this case, are in remarkable consistency with the usages of the ancient Greeks, as described by Homer. The government of the heroic ages, as it appears in the Iliad, was a monarchy, on common occasions absolute, but liable to be limited by a circumambient atmosphere of oligarchy, and the prospective possibility of resistance on the part of a people habitually passive. Another remarkable circumstance, is the identity of church and state, well indicated by Virgil, in that line—

  • Rex Anius, rex idem hominum Phœbique sacerdos
  • Æneid III.

  and concerning which, Ottfried Muller says—“In ancient Greece it may be said, with almost equal truth, that the kings were priests, as that the priests were kings” (Mythology, Leitch, p. 187). On this identity of church and state were founded those laws against the worship of strange gods, which formed so remarkable an exception to the comprehensive spirit of toleration that Hume and Gibbon have not unjustly lauded as one of the advantageous concomitants of Polytheism. The intolerance, which is the necessary consequence of such an identity, has found its thorough and consistent champions only among the Mahommedan and Christian monotheists of modern times. Even the large-hearted and liberal-minded Dr. Arnold was so far possessed by the ancient doctrine of the identity of church and state, that he could not conceive of the possibility of admitting Jews to deliberate in the senate of a Christian state In modern times, also, we have witnessed with wonder the full development of a doctrine most characteristically Homeric, that the absolute power of kings, whether in civil or in ecclesiastical matters, is equally of divine right.
  
  

  • Τιμὴ τ’ ἐκ Διός ἐστι, ϕιλεɩ̂ δέ ἑ μητίετα Ζεύς.
  • Il. II. 197

  “For from Jove the honor cometh, him the counsellor Jove doth love.” On this very interesting subject every page of Homer is pregnant with instruction; but those who are not familiar with that bible of classical scholars will find a bright reflection of the most important truths in Grote, Hist. Greece, P. I. c. XX.

  [Note 31 (p. 231).]

  • “Without the people
  • I cannot do this thing.”

  
  
  Æschylus makes the monarch of the heroic ages speak here with a strong tincture of the democracy of the latter times of Greece, no doubt securing to himself thereby immense billows of applause from his Athenian auditors, as the tragedians were fond of doing, by giving utterance to liberal sentiments like that of Æmon in Sophocles—“πόλις γὰρ ὀυκ [Editor: illegible character]σθ ἢτις άνδρός ἐσθ’ ὲνός.” But how little the people had to say in the government of the heroic ages appears strikingly in that most dramatic scene described in the second book of the Iliad, which Grote (II. 94) has, with admirable judgment, brought prominently forward in his remarks on the power of the ἀγορά, or popular assembly, in the heroic ages. Ulysses holds forth the orthodox doctrine in these terms—

  • “Sit thee down, and cease thy murmurings sit, and hear thy betters speak,
  • Thou unwarlike, not in battle known, in council all unheard!
  • Soothly all who are Achæans are not kings, and cannot be,
  • Evil is the sway of many, only one may bear the rule,
  • One be king, to whom the deep-designing Kronos’ mighty son
  • Gave the sceptre and the right.”
  • —Il II 200

  [Note 32 (p. 233).]

  • “. . . possessory Jove.”

  
  
  Ζεύς κτήσιος —An epithet characteristic of Jove, as the supreme disposer of human affairs. Klausen (Theolog. II. 15) compares the epithet κλαριος from κλη̂ρος, a lot, which I have paraphrased in p. 230 above.

  • “The Jove that allotteth their lot to all.”

  Klausen quotes Pausanias (I. 31-4) to the effect that Ζευς κτησιος was worshipped in Attica along with Ceres, Minerva, Cora, and the awful Maids or Furies.

  [Note 33 (p. 234).]

  • “The pillar-compassed seats divine.”

  
  
  From a conjecture of Pal., περιστύλους; the πυλισσόυχων being evidently repeated by a wandering of the eye or ear of the transcriber. Sophocles, I recollect, in the Antigone, has ἀμϕικίονας ναοὺς. Of course, in the case of such blunders, where the true reading cannot be restored, the best that can be done is to substitute an appropriate one.

  [Note 34 (p. 235).]

  • “. . . the assembly of the people.”

  
  
  The word ἀγορά, popular assembly, does not occur here; but it is plainly implied. It is to be distinguished from the βουλή, or council of the chiefs.—See Grote as above, and Homerpassim.

  [Note 35 (p. 235).]

  • “All crowning Consummator.”

  
  
  As the opening words of this prayer generally are one of the finest testimonies to the sovereignty of Jove to be found in the poet, so the conjunction of words τελέων τελειὸτατον, κράτος is particularly to be noted. The adjectives τέλειος, τελεος, παντελής, and the verb τελέω, are often applied with a peculiar significancy to the king of the gods, as he who alone can conduct to a happy end every undertaking, under whatever auspices commenced. This doctrine is most reverently announced by the Chorus of this play towards the end (p. 244), in these comprehensive terms—

  • τι δε ἄνευ σέθεν
  • θνατοισι τελειον εστι.

  “What thing to mortal men is completed without thee.” And in this sense Clytemnestra, in the Agamemnon (p. 69), prays—
  
  

  • Ζενˆ Ζενˆ τέλειε τὰς εμὰς ἐυχὰς τὲλει.

  On the over-ruling special providence of Jove generally the scholar should read Klausen,Theol. II., 15, and Class. Mus. No. XXVI. pp. 429-433.

  [Note 36 (p. 236).]

  • “. . . hence by the brize.”

  
  
  The reader will observe that the course of Io’s wanderings here sketched is something very different from that given in the Prometheus, and much more intelligible. The geography is so familiar to the general reader from the Acts of the Apostles, that comment is unnecessary.

  [Note 37 (p. 236).]

  • “Divinely fretted with fitful oar she hies.”

  
  
  The partiality of Æschylus for sea-phrases has been often observed. Here, however, Paley for the ἐρεσσομένα of the vulgate has proposed ἐρεθομένα, aptly for the sense and the metre; but Lin. (Class. Mus. No. VII. 30) seems right in allowing the text to remain. I have taken up both readings into my rendering.

  [Note 38 (p. 236).]

  • “Nor dared to approach this thing of human face”

  
  
  It is difficult to know what δυσχερὲς in the text refers. Pot. refers it to the mind of the maid—

  • “Disdaining to be touched”

  
  
  To me it seems more natural to refer the difficulty of touching to the superstitious fears of the Egyptians; and to translate “not safely to be meddled with.” This is the feeling that my translation has attempted to bring out.

  [Note 39 (p. 237).]

  • “Jove’s decided will”

  
  
  I adopt Heath’s emendation βούλιος for δούλιος. Well., with superstitious reverence for the most corrupt text extant, retaining the δούλίος, is forced to explain δούλιος ϕρην, “dictum videtur de hominibus qui Jovis auxilium imploraverunt,” but this will never do The reader is requested to observe what a pious interpretation is, in this passage, given to the connection of Jove and Io—how different from that given by Prometheus, p. 202 above. We may be assured that the orthodox Heathen view of this and other such matters lies in the present beautifully-toned hymn, and not in the hostile taunts which the poet, for purely dramatic purposes, puts into the mouth of the enemy of Jove.

  [Note 40 (p. 240).]

  • “Holy Hecate’s aid avail thee.”

  
  
  Hecate is an epithet of Artemis, as Hecatos of Apollo, meaning far or distant (ἔκας). According to the prevalent opinion among mythologists, both ancient and modern, this goddess is merely an impersonation of the Moon, as Phoebus of the Sun. The term “far-darting” applies to both equally; the rays of the great luminaries being fitly represented as arrows of a far-shooting deity. In the Strophe which follows, Phoebus, under the name of Λυκειος, is called upon to be gracious to the youth of Argos.

  • ἐυμενὴς δ’ ο̂ Λύκειος
  • ἔστω πάσᾳ νεολαίᾳ,

  and in the translation I have taken the liberty, pro hac vice, as the lawyers say, to suppose that this epithet, as some modern scholars suggest, has nothing to do etymologically with λύκος, a wolf, but rather with the root λυκ, which we find in the substantive λυκάβας, and in the Latin luceo. Æschylus, however, in the Seven against Thebes (p. 266 above), adopts the derivation from λύκος, as will be seen from my version. I have only to add that, if Artemis be the Moon, her function as the patroness of parturition, alluded to in the present passage, is the most natural thing in the world. On this whole subject, Keightley, c. viii. is very sensible.

  [Note 41 (p. 241).]

  • “The bulging fence-work on each side”

  
  
  (παράῤῥυσεις, more commonly παραῤῥύματα) “The ancients, as early as the time of Homer, had various preparations raised above the edge of a vessel, made of skins and wicker-work, which were intended as a protection against high waves, and also to serve as a kind of breast-work behind which the men might be safe from the attacks of the enemy.”—Dict. Antiq.voceShips.

  [Note 42 (p. 241).]

  • “. . . the prow
  • Fronted with eyes to track its watery way.”

  
  
  “It is very common to represent an eye on each side of the prow of ancient ships”—Do. Do., and woodcuts there from Montfaucon. This custom, Pal. remarks, still continues in the Mediterranean.

  [Note 43 (p 241).]

  • “To champion our need.”

  
  
  Wellauer says that the “sense demands” a distribution of the concluding part of this speech between Danaus and the Chorus; but I can see no reason for disturbing the ancient order, which is retained by But., though not by Pal. That the sense requires no change, the translation should make evident.

  [Note 44 (p. 242).]

  • “. . . their ships dark-fronted.”

  
  
  (κυανώπιδες.) The reader will call to mind the νη̂ες μέλαιναι, the black ships in Homer.—See Dict. Antiq.voceShips.

  [Note 45 (p. 242).]

  • “A strong-limbed race with noon-day sweats well hardened.”

  
  
  This sentiment must have awakened a hearty response in the minds of the Greeks, who were superior to the moderns in nothing so much as in the prominency which they gave to gymnastic exercises, and their contempt for all sorts of σκιοτροϕία—rearing in the shade—which our modern bookish system tends to foster.

  [Note 46 (p. 242).]

  • “No Mars is in her.”

  
  
  ὄυκ ἔνεστ Ἄρης, a proverbial expression for pithless, nerveless. The same expression is used in the initiatory anapæsts of the Agamemnon. Ἄρης δ ὄυκ [Editor: illegible character]νι χώρᾳ.

  [Note 47 (p. 242).]

  • “Good Greek corn is better than papyrus.”

  
  
  “Præter alios plurimos usus etiam in cibis recepta fuit papyrus”—Abul. Fadi—“radix ejus pulcis est, quapropter eam masticant et sugunt Ægyptii.”—Olaus Celsius,Hierozoicon, Upsal, 1745. I consulted this valuable work myself, but owe the original reference to an excellent “Essay on the Papyrus of the Ancients, by W. H. de Vriese,” translated from the Dutch by W. B. Macdonald, Esq. of Rammerscales, in the Class. Mus. No. XVI. p. 202. In that article it is stated that “when Guilandinus was in Egypt in the year 1559-60, the pith was then used as food” Herodotus (Euterp. 92) says that they eat the lower part, roasting it in an oven (κλιβάνῳ πνίξαντες). Pliny (XIII. 11) says, “mandunt quoque, crudum decoctumque succum tantum devorantes” In the text, of course, the allusion is a sort of proverbial ground of superiority, on the part of the Greeks, over the sons of the Nile, pretty much in the spirit of Dr. Johnston’s famous definition of oats—“food for horses in England, and for men in Scotland” I have only further to add, that the papyrus belongs to the natural family of the Cyperaceæ or Sedges, and, though not now common in Egypt, is a well-known plant, and to be seen in most of our botanical gardens.

  [Note 48 (p. 242).]

  • “The shepherds of the ships.”

  
  
  I have retained this phrase scrupulously—ποιμένες ναωˆν—as an interesting relique of the patriarchal age. So in the opening choral chaunt of the Persians, Xerxes is “shepherd of many sheep,” and a little farther on in the same play, Atossa asks the Chorus, “who is shepherd of this (the Athenian) people?” It is in such small peculiarities that the whole character and expression of a language lies.

  [Note 49 (p 242)]

  • “. . . on this coast
  • Harbours are few”

  
  
  “Nauplia was almost the only harbour on the coast of Argolis.”—Pal., from Both. I am not topographer enough to be able to confirm this.

  [Note 50 (p 243).]

  • “On a hanging cliff where lone winds sigh.”

  
  
  κρεμὰς. Robertellus: which Well. might surely have adopted. The description of wild mountain loneliness is here very fine. Let the reader imagine such a region as that of Ben-Macdhui in Aberdeenshire, so well described in Blackwood’s Magazine, August, 1847. ὀιόϕρων is more than ὄιος; and I have ventured on a periphrasis. Hermann’s Latin translation given by Pal is—“saxum praeruptum, capris inaccessum, incommonstrabile, solitudine vastum, propendens, vulturibus habitatum”

  [Note 51 (p 244)]
  
  Chorus (in separate voices, and short hurried exclamations). I most cordially agree with Well. in attaching the ten verses 805-15 to what follows, rather than making it stand as an Epode to what precedes. A change of style is distinctly felt at the conclusion of the third Antistrophe; the dim apprehension of approaching harm becomes a distinct perception, and the choral music more turbid, sudden, and exclamatory. This I have indicated by breaking up the general chaunt into individual voices.—See p. 377, Note 19.

  [Note 52 (p. 245).]

  • “Hence to the ships! to the good ships fare ye!”

  
  
  “What follows is most corrupt, but so made up of short sentences, commands, and exclamations, that if the whole passage were wanting, it would not be much missed. It is very tasteless, and full of turgid phraseology”—Paley. All this is very true, if we look on the Suppliants as a play written to be read; but, being an opera composed for music, what appears to us tasteless and extravagant, without that stimulating emotional atmosphere, might have been, to the Athenians who heard it, the grand floodtide and tempestuous triumph of the piece. Compare, especially, the passionate Oriental coronach with which “The Persians” concludes. We must never forget that we possess only the skeleton of the sacred opera of the Greeks.

  [Note 53 (p. 248).]

  • “To find stray goods the world all over, Hermes
  • Is prince of patrons.”

  
  
  “Rei furtivae,” as the civil law says, “acterna est auctoritas”; and the Herald, being sent out on a mission to reclaim what was abstracted, requires no credentials but the fact of the heraldship, which he exercises under the patronage of the herald-god Hermes. It may be also, as the commentators suggest—though I recollect no passage to prove it—that Hermes, being a thief himself, and the patron of thieves, was the most apt deity to whose intervention might be referred the recovery of stolen goods. Something of this kind seems implied in the epithet μαστηριῳ, the searcher, here given to Hermes

  [Note 54 (p. 250).]

  • “In the general view, and publishes their praise.”

  
  
  After these words I have missed out a line, of which I can make nothing satisfactory—

  • κἄλωρα κωλύουσαν ὡς μένειν ἐρωˆ.

  A few lines below, for [Editor: illegible character]υν ἐκληρώθη δορὶ, I have followed Pal. in adopting Heath’s ε[Editor: illegible character]νεκ’ ’ηρόθη ο̂ορὶ.

  [Note 55 (p. 251)]
  
  Choral Hymn. This final Chorus of the Suppliants and the opening one of the Persians are remarkable for the use of that peculiar rhythm, technically called the Ionic a minore, of which a familiar example exists in Horace, Ode III. 12. What the æsthetical or moral effect of this measure was on an Athenian ear it is perhaps impossible for us, at the present day, to know; but I have thought it right, in both cases, when it occurs, to mark the peculiarity by the adoption of an English rhythm, in some similar degree removed from the vulgar use, and not without a certain cognate character. In modern music, at least, the Ionic of the Greek text and the measure used in my translation are mere varieties of the same rhythmical genus marked musically by ¾ As for the structure of the Chorus, its division into two semi-choruses is anticipative of the division of feeling among the sisters, which afterwards arose when the conduct of their stern father forced them to choose between filial and connubial duty. One thing also is plain, that there is nothing of a real moral finale in this Chorus Regarded as a concluding ode, it were a most weak and impotent performance. The tone of grateful jubilee with which it sets out, is, after the second Strophe, suddenly changed into the original note of apprehension, evil-foreboding, doubt, and anxiety, plainly pointing to the terrible catastrophe to be unveiled in the immediately succeeding play.

  [Note 56 (p. 251).]

  • “Yet, mighty praise be thine,
  • Cyprian queen divine!”

  
  
  The Chorus here are evidently moved by a religious apprehension that, in placing themselves under the patronage of the goddess of chastity, they may have treated lightly the power and the functions of the great goddess of love. To reconcile the claims of opposing deities was a great problem of practical piety with all devout polytheists. The introduction of Aphrodite here, as has been remarked, is also plainly prophetic of the part which Hypermnestra is to play in the subsequent piece, under the influence of the great Cyprean goddess preferring the love of a husband to the command of a father.

  [Note 57 (p 252).]

  • “Lovely Harmonia.”

  
  
  “Hesiod says that Harmonia (ἁρμονία—order or arrangement) was the daughter of Ares and Aphrodite. This has evidently all the appearance of a physical myth; for from love and strife—i.e. attraction and repulsion—arises the order or harmony of the universe.”—Keightley.

  [Note 58 (p. 252).]

  • “Yet must I fear the chase.”

  
  
  ϕυγάδεσσιν δ [Editor: illegible character]πιπλόιας. Haupt adopted by Pal. An excellent conjecture.

  [* ]Eurip Phœnissae. Prolog, and Argument to the same from the Cod. Guelpherbyt. in Matthiae

  [† ]πρωˆτος ’εν ’ανθρώποις τὴν ἀῤῥενοϕθορίαν ἑυρων —Compare Romans i. 27.

  [* ]Μὴ σπε̂ίρε τέκνων ἅλοκα δαιμόνων βίᾳ, κ τ λ.—[Editor: illegible character] Phœnis. 19

  [† ]ὀιδέω to swell, and πονˆς a foot; literally swell-foot. Welcker remarks that there is a peculiar significancy in the appellations connected with this legend; even Λάιος being connected with λαικάζω, λαιδκαπρος, and other similar words—(Trilog. p. 355)—but this is dangerous ground

  [‡ ]The σχιστή ὸδος.—See Wordsworth’s Greece, p 21.

  [* ]It is particularly mentioned in the oldest form of the legend, that he considered his sons had not sent him his due share of the flesh offered in the family sacrifice—Scholiast Soph. O C 1375 This is alluded to in the fifth antistrophe of the third great choral chaunt of this play, v 768. Well See my Note

  [* ]The subject of “The Eleusinians” was the burial of the dead bodies of the chiefs who had fallen before Thebes, through the mediation of Theseus.—See Plutarch, Life of that hero, c 29

  [† ]See Welcker’s Triologie, p 359, etc

  [‡ ]Classical Museum, No XXV. p 312.

  [* ]See Palky’s Note.

  [* ]See Introductory Remarks.

  [* ]See Note 35 to the Suppliants, p 235 above.

  [* ]Chance (Τύχη), it must be recollected, was a divine power among the ancients.

  [* ]See Note 60 to the Choephoræ.

  [* ]The name Parthenopaus, from παρθένος, a virgin, and ὤψ, the countenance.

  [* ]See Note 60 to Agamemnon.

  [* ]See Note 73 to the Choephoræ.

  [† ]See Papkin voce αλϕηστής.

  [‡ ]Maritime similes are very common in Æschylus, and specially this.—Compare Agamemnon, p. 70, Strophe II

  [* ]Another pun on Polynicks, see above, p 278.

  [† ]i.e. Raging flood, Thyad, from θύω, to rage

  [* ]See Note 67 to Agamemnon

  [Note 1 (p. 263)]

  • “Which may averting Jove from me avert.”

  
  
  The epithet ἀλεξητηριος or ἀλεξίκακος (Pausan. Att. III.) or the averter, applied to the gods (see Odys. III 346, is to be noted), as characteristic of the grand fact in the history of mind, that with rude nations the fear of evil is the dominant religious motive; so much so, that in the accounts which we read of some savage, or semi-savage nations, religion seems to consist altogether in a vague, dim fear of some unknown power, either without moral attributes altogether, or even positively malignant. In this historical sense, the famous maxim, primus in orbe deos fecit timor—however insufficient as a principle of general theology—is quite true. In the present passage, the phraseology is remarkable.

  • [Editor: illegible character]ν Ζεὺς ἀλεξητήριος
  • Ἐπώνυμος γένοιτο—

  literally, of which evils may Jove be the averter, and in being so, answer to his name. This allusion to the names and epithets of the gods occurs in Æschylus with a frequency which marks it as a point of devotional propriety in the worship of the Greeks. I have expressed the same thing in the text by the repetition of avert. So in the Choephoræ, p. 103, Herald Hermes, herald me in this, &c.

  [Note 2 (p. 263).]

  • “In his ear and inward sense deep-pondered truths,
  • By no false art, though without help from fire.”

  
  
  “Tiresias, the Theban seer, was blind, and could not divine by fire or other visible signs; but he had received from Pallas a remarkably acute hearing, and the faculty of understanding the voices of birds.”—Apollodor. III. 6.—Stan. Well. objects to this, but surely without good reason. Why are the ears—εν [Editor: illegible character]σι—mentioned so expressly, if not to make some contrast to the common method of divining by the eye?

  [Note 3 (p. 264).]

  • “By Mars, Enýo, and blood-loving Terror.”

  
  
  With Mars in Homer (II IV. 440) are coupled Φόβος and Δε̂ιμος, Fear and Terror, as in this passage of Æschylus, and Ἔρις, Strife.

  • “Fear and Terror went with him, and Strife that rages without bound,
  • Strife of Mars the man-destroyer, sister and companion dear.”

  And in Livy (I. 27), Tullus Hostilius being pressed in battle, “duodecim vovit Salios, fanaquePallorietPavori.”—Compare Cic. de Nat. Deor. III. c 25. Enýo is coupled in Homer as a war-goddess with Athena—
  
  

  • “Well Tydides knew that Venus was no goddess made for war,
  • Not Athena, not Eýno city-sacking.”

  In our language, we have naturalized her Roman counterpart Bellona.

  [Note 4 (p. 264).]

  • “. . . the chariot of Adrastus.”

  
  
  “Because it had been predicted that Adrastus alone should survive the war.”—Scholiast.

  [Note 5 (p. 265)]
  
  Chorus. This Chorus, Schneider remarks, naturally divides itself into four, or, as I think, rather into five distinct parts. (1) The Chorus enter the stage in great hurry and agitation, indicated by the Dochmiac verse—σποράδην, according to the analogy of the Eumenides—(see the βιος Αισχύλου)—in scattered array, and, perhaps in the person of their Coryphæus, describe generally the arrival of the Theban host, and their march against the walls of Thebes. (2) But as the agitation increases, continuity of description becomes impossible, and a series of broken and irregular exclamations and invocations by individual voices follows (3) Then a more regular prayer, or the chaunting of the Theban litany begins, in which we must suppose the whole band to join. (4) This is interrupted, however, by the near terror of the assault, and the chaunt is again broken into hurried exclamations of individual voices. (5) The litany is then wound up by the whole band. Of course no absolute external proof of matters of this kind can be offered; but the internal evidence is sufficiently strong to warrant the translator in marking the peculiar character of the Chorus in some such manner as I have done. For dramatic effect, this is of the utmost consequence. Nothing has more hurt the dramatic character of Æschylus, than the practice of throwing into the form of a continuous ode what was written for a series of well-arranged individual voices. Whoever he was among more recent scholars that first analyzed the Choruses with a special view to separate the exclamatory parts from the continuous chaunt deserves my best thanks.—See Note 19 to the Eumenides, p. 377.

  [Note 6 (p. 265).]

  • “With clattering hoofs, on and on still they ride.”

  
  
  πεδιοπλόκτυπος. Before this word, another epithet ελεδεμνας occurs, which the intelligent scholar will readily excuse me for having omitted altogether.

  [Note 7 (p. 265).]

  • “ the white-shielded host.”

  
  
  The epithet λεύκασπις seems characteristic of the Argive host in the Bœotian legend. Sophocles, in the beautiful opening Chorus of the Antigone, and Euripides in the Phænissæ, has it. Such traits were of course adopted by the tragedians from the old local legends always with conscientious fidelity. Stan. refers it to the general white or shining aspect of the shields of the common soldiers, distinguished by no various-coloured blazonry; which may be the true explanation.

  [Note 8 (p. 265).]

  • “With chaplet and stole.”

  
  
  In modern times, the mightiest monarchs have not thought it beneath their dignity to present, and sometimes, even, to work a petticoat to the Virgin Mary. In ancient times, the presentation of a πέπλος to the maiden goddess of Athens was no less famous—

  • “Take the largest and the finest robe that in thy chamber lies—
  • Take the robe to thee so dear, and place it duly on the knees
  • Of the beautiful-haired Athena.”
  • —Il. VI. 273.

  Virgil has not forgotten this—Æneid I. 480. The peplos was a large upper dress, often reaching to the feet. Yates, in the Dict. Antiq., translates it “shawl,” which may be the most accurate word, but, from its modern associations, of course, unsuitable for poetry.—See the article.

  [Note 9 (p. 265)]

  • “O Ares, that shines in the helmet of gold.”

  
  
  Mars was one of the native ὲπιχώριοι gods of Thebes, as the old legend of the dragon and the sown-teeth sufficiently testifies. The dragon was the offspring of Mars; and the fountain which it guarded, when it was slain by the Phœnician wanderer, was sacred to that god. Apollodor. III. 4; Unger.de fonte Aret. p. 103.

  [Note 10 (p 266)]

  • “And their steeds with ringing bridles.”

  
  
  Bells were often used on the harness of horses, and on different parts of the armour, to increase the war-alarm—the κλαγγή τε ἐνοπή τε (Il. III. 2), which is so essential a part of the instinct of assault. See the description of Tydeus below, and Dict. Antiq. tintinnabulum, where is represented a fragment of ancient sculpture, showing the manner in which bells were attached to the collars of war-horses. Dio Cassius (Lib. LXXVI. 12) mentions that “the arms of the Britons are a shield and short spear, in the upper part whereof is an apple of brass, which, being shaken, terrifies the enemy with the sound.” Compare κωδωνο, ϕαλαραπωλους. Aristoph. Ran. 963.

  [Note 11 (p. 266).]

  • “God of pawing steeds, Poseidon.”

  
  
  Neptune is called equestrian or ἱππίος, no doubt, from the analogy of the swift waves, over which his car rides, to the fleet ambling of horses. In the mythical contest with Pallas, accordingly, while the Athenian maid produces the olive tree, the god of waves sends forth a war-horse.

  [Note 12 (p. 266).]

  • “Save us, Cypris, mother of Thebans.”

  
  
  “Harmonia, whom Cadmus married, was the daughter of Mars and Aphrodite.”—Scholiast.

  [Note 13 (p. 266).]

  • “Save us, save us, Wolf-Apollo.”

  
  
  Here is one of those pious puns upon the epithets of the gods, which were alluded to in Note 1 above. With regard to this epithet of Apollo, who, in the Electra of Sophocles, v. 6, is called distinctly wolf-slayer (λυκοκτόνος), there seems to me little doubt that the Scholiast on that passage is right in referring this function to Apollo, as the god of a pastoral people (νὸμιος). Passow (Dict. in voce), compare Pausan. (Cor. II. 19).

  [Note 14 (p 267).]

  • “O Onca, blest Onca.”

  
  
  Onca, says the Scholiast, was a name of Athena, a Phœnician epithet, brought by Cadmus from his native country. The Oncan gate was the same as the Ogygian gate of Thebes mentioned by other writers, and the most ancient of all the seven.—Unger. p. 267; Pausan. IX. 8

  [Note 15 (p. 267).]

  • “The seven-gated city deliver, deliver.”

  
  
  The current traditional epithet of Thebes, whose seven gates were as famous as the seven mouths of the Nile—

  • “Rari quippe boni, numerus vix est totidem quot
  • Thebarum portæ vel divitis ostia Nili”
  • —Juv Sat XIII. 26.

  And Homer, in the Odyssey XI. 263, talks of—
  
  

  • “Amphion and Zethus,
  • First who founded and uptowered the seat of seven-gated Thebes”

  These may suffice from a whole host of citations in Unger. Vol. I. p. 254-6, and Pausan IX. 8. 3

  [Note 16 (p. 267).]

  • “. . . a foreign-speaking foe!”

  
  
  This appears strange, as both besieged and besiegers were Greeks, differing no more in dialect than the Prussians and the Austrians, or we Scotch from our English neighbours. I agree with E. P. that it is better not to be over-curious in such matters, and that Butler is right when he says that ετερόϕωνος is only paullo gravius dictum ad miserationem—that is, only a little tragic exaggeration for hostile or foreign.

  [Note 17 (p 268).]

  • “. . . the painted gods upon the prow.”

  
  
  The general practice was, that the tutelary gods were on the poop, and only the figure-head on the prow (Dict. Antiq., Ships and Insigne), but, as there was nothing to prevent the figure-head being itself a god, the case alluded to by Æschylus might often occur.—See the long note in Stan.

  [Note 18 (p 268).]

  • “Who knows not
  • That, when a city falls, they pass to the Victor”

  
  
  The Roman custom of evoking the gods of a conquered city to come out of the subject shrines, and take up their dwelling with the conqueror, is well known. In Livy, V 21, there is a remarkable instance of this in the case of Veii—“Tuo ductu,” says Camillus, “Pythice Apollo, tuoque numine instinctus pergo ad delendam urbem Veios: tibique hinc decumam partem prædæ voveo. Te simul, Juno regina, quæ nunc Veios colis, precor ut nos victores in nostram tuamque mox futuram urbem sequare; ubi te dignum amplitudine tua templum accipiat.”

  [Note 19 (p. 269).]

  • “For blood of mortals is the common food.”

  
  
  I read ϕόνῳ, not ϕόβῳ, principally for the sake of the sentiment, as the other idea which ϕοβῳ gives, has been already expressed. Certainly Well. is too positive in saying that ϕόβῳ is “prorsus necessarium” Both readings give an equally appropriate sense: that in the text, which Pot. also gives; or this other—

  • “Your fear but heaps the fuel of hot war
  • I’ the hearts o’ the foe.”

  [Note 20 (p. 270)]

  • “Dirce and Ismenus’ sacred stream.”

  
  
  These were waters in Theban legend no less famous than Inachus and Erasinus in that of Argos The waters of Dirce, in particular, were famous for their clearness and pleasantness to drink. “Dirce, flowing with a pure and sweet stream,” says Aelian,Var. Hist. XII. 57, quoted by Unger. p. 187, and Æschylus in the Chorus immediately following, equals its praise to that of the Nile, sung so magnificently in the Suppliants.”

  [Note 21 (p. 271).]

  • “From Poseidon earth-embracing,
  • And from Tethys’ winding sons.”

  
  
  Γαιήοχος—the “Earth-holder” or “Earth-embracer,” is a designation of Poseidon, stamped to the Greek ear with the familiar authority of Homer. According to Hesiod, and the Greek mythology generally, the fountains were the sons of Ocean either directly or indirectly, through the rivers, who owned the same fatherhood. Tethys is the primeval Amphitrite.—See Note 13 to Prometheus, p 390 above.

  [Note 22 (p. 273).]

  • “. . . at the Prœtian portal Tydeus stands.”

  
  
  “A gate of doubtful parentage, from which the road went out from Thebes direct to Chalcis in Eubœa.”—Unger. p. 297. “Here, by the wayside, was the tomb of Melanippus, the champion of this gate, who slew his adversary Tydeus”—Pausan. IX. 8 This Tydeus is the father of Diomedes, whose exploits against men and gods are so nobly sung in Ilaid V. From the frequency of the words βοα̂ν, βοὴν, βρέμειν, etc. in this fine description, one might almost think that Æschylus had wished to paint the father after the Homeric likeness of the son, who, like Menelaus, was βοὴν ἀγαθός. In the heroic ages, a pair of brazen lungs was not the least useful accomplishment of a warrior. The great fame of the father of Diomedes as a warrior appears strikingly from that passage of the Iliad (IV. 370), where Agamemnon uses it as a strong goad to prick the valorous purpose of the son.

  [Note 23 (p. 273).]

  • “. . . the wise Oiclidan seer.”

  
  
  “Amphiaraus, the son of Oicles, being a prophet, and foreseeing that all who should join in the expedition against Thebes would perish, refused to go himself, and dissuaded others. Polynices, however, coming to Iphis, the son of Alector, inquired how Amphiaraus might be forced to join the expedition, and was told that this would take place if his wife Eriphyle should obtain the necklace of Harmonia. This, accordingly, Polynices gave her, she receiving the gift in the face of an interdict in that matter laid on her by her husband. Induced by this bribe, she persuaded her husband to march against his will, he having beforehand promised to refer any matter in dispute between him and Adrastus to the decision of his wife.—Apollodor. III. 6; Confr. Hor. III. 16, 11.

  [Note 24 (p. 273).]

  • “The brazen bells ring fear.”

  
  
  A Scottish knight, in an old ballad, has these warlike bells on his horse’s mane—

  • “At ilk tail o’ his horse’s mane,
  • There hung a siller bell:
  • The wind was loud, the steed was proud,
  • And they gied a sindry knell.”
  • —Young Waters.

  And one of Southey’s Mexican heroes has them on his helmet—

  • “Bells of gold
  • Embossed his glittering helmet, and where’er
  • Their sound was heard, there lay the press of war,
  • And Death was busiest there.”
  • —Madoc. II 18.

  [Note 25 (p. 274).]

  • “His race from those whom Ares spared he draws.”

  
  
  That is to say, he belonged to one of the oldest originally Theban families—was one of the children of the soil, sprung from the teeth of the old Theban dragon, which Cadmus, by the advice of Athena, sowed in the Earth; and from that act, the old race of Thebans were called σπαρτὁι, or the Sown. See Stan.’s note.

  [Note 26 (p. 274).]

  • “Proud Capaneus before the Electran gate.”

  
  
  This gate was so called from Electra, the sister of Cadmus Pausan IX. 8-3. And was the gate which led to Platæa and Athens. Unger. p. 274

  [Note 27 (p. 275)]

  • “. . . The third lot to Eteocles
  • Leapt from the upturned brazen helm.”

  
  
  The custom of using the helmet, for the situla or urn, when lots were taken in war, must have been noted by the most superficial student of Homer. Stan. has collected many instances, of which one may suffice—

  • “Quickly, in the braren helm, we shake the lot, and first of all,
  • Of Eurylochus, mighty-hearted, leapt the lot.”
  • —Odyssey X. 206.

  [Note 28 (p. 275).]

  • “At the Netaean gate.”

  
  
  So called from Neis, a son of Zethus, the brother of Amphion. Pausan. IX. 8; Unger. p 313.

  [Note 29 (p. 276).]

  • “Black smoke, the volumed sister of the flame.”

  
  
  Just as Homer, in a familiar passage, calls “sleep the mother of death” (Il. XIV. 231), adopted by Shelley in the exquisite exordium of Queen Mab—

  • “How beautiful is Death,
  • Death and his brother Sleep!”

  Mitchell, in a note on the metaphors of Æschylus (Aristoph. Ran. 871), mentions this as being one of those tropes, where the high-vaulting tragedian has jerked himself over from the sublime into the closely-bordering territory of the ridiculous; but neither here nor in διαδρομα̂ν ο̂μαίμονες, which he quarrels with, is there anything offensive to the laws of good taste It sounds, indeed, a little queer to translate literally, Rapine near akin to running hither and thither, but, as a matter of plain fact, it is true that, when in the confusion of the taking of a city, men run hither and thither, rapine is the result. In my version, Plunder, daughter of Confusion (p 272 above), expresses the idea intelligibly enough, I hope, to an English ear.

  [Note 30 (p. 276).]

  • “Round its hollow belly was embossed
  • A ring of knotted snakes.”

  
  
  The old Argolic shield, round as the sun—

  • “Argolici clypei aut Phœbæœ lampadis instar.”

  See Dict. Antiq. Clypeus. The kind described in the text finds its modern counterpart in those hollow Burmese shields often found in our museums, only larger.

  [Note 31 (p. 276)]

  • “. . . by the god of war
  • Indwelt.”

  
  
  [Editor: illegible character]νθεος δ’Αρει, literally, “ingodded by Mars,” or having the god of war dwelling in him. This phrase shows the meaning of that reproach cast by the Pharisees in the teeth of Christ—[Editor: illegible character]χει δαιμὁνιον—he hath a devil, or, as the Greeks would have said, a god—i.e. he is possessed by a moral power so far removed from the common, that we must attribute it to the indwelling might of a god or devil.

  [Note 32 (p. 276).]

  • “. . . a hostile pair
  • Well matched by Hermes.”

  
  
  The Greeks ascribed to Hermes every thing that they met with on the road, and every thing accidentally found, and whatever happens by chance—and so two adversaries well matched in battle were said to have been brought together by the happy contrivance of that god.”—Schol.; and see Note 59 to the Eumenides, p. 386.

  [Note 33 (p. 278).]

  • “The sixth a sober man, a seer of might,
  • Before the Homoloidian gate stands forth.”

  
  
  i e.Amphiaraus—see above, Note 23, p. 420. Homer (Odys. XV. 244) speaks of him as beloved by Jove and Apollo. The Homoloidian gates were so called either from mount Homole in Thessaly (Pausan IX 8), or from Homolois, a daughter of Niobe and Amphion.—Unger. p. 324.

  [Note 34 (p. 278).]

  • “With bitter taunts his evil-omened name,
  • Making it spell his ugly sin that owns it.”

  
  
  The name Polynices means literally much strife; and there can be no question that the prophet in this place is described as taunting the Son of Oedipus with the evil omen of his name after the fashion so familiar with the Greek writers. See Prometheus, Note 8, p. 388 The text, however, is in more places than one extremely corrupt; and, in present circumstances, I quite agree with Well. and Lin that we are not warranted in introducing the conjectural reading of ὄμμα for ὄνομα, though there can be no question that the reading ὄμμα admits of a sufficiently appropriate sense.—See Dunbar,Class. Museum, No. XII. p 206.

  [Note 35 (p 278).]

  • “The wise man is what fools but seem to be.”

  
  
  “When this tragedy was first acted, Aristides, surnamed the Just, was present. At the declamation of these words—

  • ὀυ γὰρ δοκε̂ιν ἄριστος ἀλλ’ [Editor: illegible character]ίναι θέλει,

  
  
  the whole audience, by an instantaneous instinct, directed their eyes to him.”—Plutarch,Apoth. Reg. et duc.Sallust describes Cato in the same language—“Esse quam videri bonus malebat.”—Stan.

  [Note 36 (p 280).]

  • “O god-detested! god-bemadded race!”

  
  
  In modern theological language we are not accustomed to impute mental infatuation, insanity, or desperate impulses of any kind to the Supreme Being; but in the olden time such language as that of the text was familiarly in the mouth of Jew and Gentile. “The Lord hardened Pharaoh’s heart,” is a sentence which we all remember, perhaps with a strange sensation of mysterious terror, from our juvenile lessons; and “quos Deus vult perdere prius dementat,” is a common maxim in our mouths, though we scarcely half believe it. In Homer and the tragedians instances of this kind occur everywhere; and in the Persians of our author the gods are addressed in a style of the most unmitigated accusation. In such cases, modern translators are often inclined to soften down the apparent impiety of the expression into some polite modern generality; but I have scrupulously retained the original phraseology. I leave it to the intelligent reader to work out the philosophy of this matter for himself.

  [Note 37 (p 281).]

  • “. . . the god will have it so.”

  
  
  This is one of the cases so frequent in the ancient poets (Note 76 to Choephoræ, p 372) where θεός is used in the singular without the article. In the present case the translators seem agreed in supplying the definite particle, as Phœbus, mentioned in the next line, may naturally be understood. In modern language, where a man is urged on to his destruction by a violent unreasoning passion, reference is generally made to an overruling decree or destiny, rather than directly to the author of all destiny. “But my ill-fate pushed me on with an obstinacy that nothing could resist; and, though I had several times loud calls from my reason and my more composed judgment to go home, yet I had no power to do it. I know not what to call this, nor will I urge that it is a secret overruling decree that hurries us on to be the instruments of our own destruction, even though it be before us, and that we rush upon as with our eyes open. Certainly nothing but some such decreed unavoidable misery attending, and which it was impossible for me to escape, could have pushed me forward against the calm reasonings and persuasions of my most retired thoughts”—Robinson Crusoe. On this subject see my Homeric Theology. Class. Mus. No. XXVI. Propositions 5, 12, and 18 compared.

  [Note 38 (p. 281).]

  • “Death is thy only gain, and death to-day
  • Is better than to-morrow!”

  
  
  λέγουσα [Editor: illegible character]έρδος πρότερον ὑστερου μόρου—mentioning to me an advantage (viz, in my dying now) preferable to a death at a later period, as his good genius might have whispered to Napoleon Bonaparte at Waterloo. In translating thus a confessedly difficult passage I have Welcker (Trilog. 363), Butler, Blom., and Schutz, and E. P. Oxon., on my side, also the simple comment of Scholiast II.—κερδο̂ς, i.e. τὸ ννˆν τεθνα̂ναι πρότερον, i. e. τιμιώτερον. Lin. agreeing with Well. translates “urging the glory of the victory which precedes the death which follows after it.” Conz. is singular, and certainly not to be imitated in translating with Schol. I.—

  • “Wer der erste tòdlet gewinnt den Sieg”
  • “He who inflicts the first lethal blow gains the victory.”

  Pot. has not grappled with the passage. If Lin.’s interpretation be preferred, I should render—
  
  

  • “Beside me sits
  • The Fury with dry tearless eye, and points to
  • One glimpse of glory heralding black death.”

  or—
  
  

  • “The glorious gain that shall precede the death’

  It will be observed that if πρότερον be taken in the sense of τιμιώτερον, with the Scholiast, and το ννˆν τεθναναι understood to κέρδος, Wellauer’s objection falls that μαλλον or μειζον must be understood to render the rendering in my text admissible.

  [Note 39 (p. 282).]

  • “. . . goddess most ungodlike.”

  
  
  I have remarked, in a Note above, that the Greeks, so far from having any objection to the idea that the gods were the authors of evil, rather encouraged it; and accordingly, in their theology, they had no need for a devil or devils in any shape. This truth, however, must be received with the qualification, arising from the general preponderating character of the Greek deities, which was unquestionably benign, and coloured more from the sunshine than the cloud; in reference to which general character, it might well be said that certain deities, whose function was purely to induce misery, were ὁυ θεοɩ̂ς δμοιοι—nothing like the gods.

  [Note 40 (p. 282).]

  • “O son of Scythia, must we ask thine aid?
  • Chalybian stranger thine.”

  
  
  We see here how loosely the ancients used certain geographical terms, and especially this word Scythia; for the Chalybes or Chaldaei, as they were afterwards called, were a people of Pontus. Their country produced, in the most ancient times, silver also; but, in the days of Strabo, iron only.—Strabo, Lib. XII. p. 549.

  [Note. 41 (p. 284).]

  • “. . . for sorry tendance wrathful.”

  
  
  I read ἐπίκοτος τροϕα̂ς with Heath., Blom, and Pal. For the common reading, ἐπικότους τροϕάς, Well., with his usual conservative ingenuity, finds a sort of meaning; but the change which the new reading requires is very slight, and gives a much more obvious sense; besides that it enables us to understand the allusion to Æschylus in Schol. Oedip. Col. 1375.—See Introductory Remarks, Welcker’sTrilogie, p. 358, and Pal.’s Note.

  [Note 42 (p. 284).]

  • “. . . (for still in four and three
  • The god delights).”

  
  
  These words are a sort of comment on the epithet ἑβδομαγέτας given to Apollo in the text, of which Pape, in his Dictionary, gives the following account: “Surname of Apollo, because sacrifice was offered to him on the seventh day of every month, or as Lobeck says (Aglaoph. p. 434), because seven boys and seven girls led the procession at his feasts.—Herod. VI. 57. The ancients were not agreed in the interpretation of this epithet.” It is not necessary, however, I must admit with Schneider, to suppose any reference to this religious arithmetic here. Phœbus receives the seventh gate, because, as the prophet of the doom, it was his special business to see it fulfilled; and this he could do only there, where the devoted heads of Eteocles and Polynices stood.

  [Note 43 (p. 285).]

  • “And I for plaints no less than pæans bring thee.”

  
  
  I see no sufficient case made out for giving these words from τοια̂υτα down to ϕορουμενοι to the Chorus. The Messenger, surely, may be allowed his moral reflections without stint in the first place, as the Chorus is to enlarge on the same theme in the chaunt which immediately follows. It strikes me also, that the tone of the passage is not sufficiently passionate for the Chorus.

  [Note 44 (p. 289).]

  • “Ay, drenched in gore, in brothered gore.”

  
  
  In the old editions, and in Pot. and Glasg. these words are given to Ismene; but never was a scenic change made with greater propriety than that of Brunck, when he continued these speeches down to the end of Antistrophe IV. to the Chorus. Nothing could be more unnatural than that the afflicted sisters, under such a load of woe, should open their mouths with long speeches—long, assuredly, in comparison of what they afterwards say. They are properly silent, till the Chorus has finished the wail; and then they speak only in short exclamations—articulated sobs—nothing more. For the same reason, deserting Well., I have given the repeated burden Ἰὼ Μοιρα, etc. to the Chorus. The principal mourners in this dirge should sing only in short and broken cries.

  [Note 45 (p 290).]

  • “Moera, baneful gifts dispensing.”

  
  
  The word μοɩ̂ρα originally means lot, portion, part, that which is dealt or divided out to one. In this sense it occurs frequently in Homer, and is there regarded as proceeding from the gods, and specially from Jove. But with an inconsistency natural enough in popular poetry, we sometimes find μοɩ̂ρα in Homer, like ἀτη, elevated to the rank of a separate divine personage. “Not I,” says Agamemnon, in the Iliad (XIX 86), “was to blame for the quarrel with Achilles,

  • ButJoveandMoeraand theFury,walking through the darkness dread.’

  The three Fates, Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, like the three Furies, were a post-Homeric birth We thus see how, under the influence of the Polytheistic system, new gods were continually created from what were originally mere functions of the divine mind, or results of the divine activity.

  [Note 46 (p. 292).]

  • “Due burial in its friendly bosom.”

  
  
  θάπτειν [Editor: illegible character]δοξε γη̂ς ϕιλαις κατασκαϕαɩ̂ς. The words here used seem to imply interment in the modern fashion, without burning, but they may also refer to the depositing of the urns in subterranean chambers. Ancient remains, as well as the testimony of classical authors, prove that both practices existed among the ancients, though cremation was latterly the more common. The reader will be instructed by the following extract on this subject from Dr. Smith’s admirable Dictionary of Antiquities, article Funus “The body was either buried or burnt. Lucian, de luctu, says that the Greeks burn, and the Persians bury, their dead; but modern writers are greatly divided in opinion as to which was the usual practice. Wachsmuth (Hell. Alt. II. 2, p. 79) says that, in historical times, the dead were always buried; but this statement is not strictly correct. Thus we find that Socrates (Plut. Phædon) speaks of his body being either burnt or buried; the body of Timoleon was burnt; and so was that of Philopæmon (Plutarch). The word θάπτειν is used in connection with either mode; it is applied to the collection of the ashes after burning; and accordingly we find the words κάιειν and θάπτειν used together (Dionys. Archæolog. Rom V. 48). The proper expression for interment in the earth is κατορύττειν; whereas we find Socrates speaking of το σωˆμα η καόμενον, ἠ κατορυττόμενον. In Homer, the bodies of the dead are burnt; but interment was also used in very ancient times. Cicero (de leg. II. 25) says that the dead were buried at Athens in the time of Cecrops; and we also read of the bones of Orestes being found in a coffin at Tegea (Herod. I. 68). The dead were commonly buried among the Spartans (Plut. Lycurg. 27) and the Sicyonians (Paus. II. 7); and the prevalence of this practice is proved by the great number of skeletons found in coffins in modern times, which have evidently not been exposed to the action of fire. Both burning and burying appear to have been always used, to a greater or less extent, at different periods; till the spread of Christianity at length put an end to the former practice.”

  [Note 47 (p. 293).]

  • “Mighty Furies that triumphant
  • Ride on ruin’s baleful wings.”

  
  
  I have here, by a paraphrase, endeavoured to express the remarkably pregnant expression of the original κη̂ρες Εριννύες—combining, as it does, in grammatical apposition, two terrible divine powers, that the ancient poets generally keep separate. The κη̂ρες, or goddesses of destruction and violent death, occur frequently in Homer. Strictly speaking, they represent only one of the methods by which the retributive Furies may operate; but, in a loose way of talking, they are sometimes identified with them. Schoemann, in a note to the Eumenides, p. 62, has quoted to this effect, Hesiod v. 217, and Eurip. Elect. v. 1252:—

  • “The terrible Kerés, blushless persecutors,
  • Will chase thee wandering frenzied o’er the earth.”

  [* ]The play of Phrynichus, which celebrated the defeat of Xerxes, was called Phænissæ, from the Phœnician virgins who composed the chorus How far Æschylus may have borrowed from this work is now impossible to know Nothing certainly can be gained by pressing curiously the word παραπεποιη̂σθαι in the mouth of an old grammarian.

  [* ]Chœrilus was a Samian, contemporary of Herodotus, but younger. His poem, entitled περσικά, included the expedition of Darius as well as that of Xerxes

  [† ]By the praiseworthy exertions of Mr. Bohn, the English reader is now supplied with translations of this, and other Classical writers, at a very cheap rate.

  [* ]Vol V p 191. Thirlwall had defended the statement of Æschylus.

  [† ]Herodotus VII. 1-4.

  [* ]Trilogie, p 470, Ariadne, p. 81

  [† ]These plays were Phineus, the Persians, Glaucus, and Prometheus The last was a satiric piece, having no connection with the Prometheus Bound, or the trilogy to which it belonged.

  [* ]See Linwood—voce βαυζω.

  [† ]“The people of Susa are also called Cissians”—Strabo, p. 728.

  [* ]See p 172, Note

  [† ]“They who dwell in the marshes are the most warlike of the Egyptians.”—Thucyd. I. 110 Abresch

  [‡ ]“Tmolus, a hill overhanging Sardes, from which the famous golden flooded Pactolus flows”—Strabo, p 625. “Called sacred from Bacchus worshipped there.”—Eurip. Bacch. 65 Pal

  [* ]The Hellespont; so called from Helle, the daughter of Athamas, a character famous in the Argonautic legend

  [† ]

  • “As a dragon in a hollow fiercely waiteth for a man,
  • Eating venomed herbs, and darkly nursing anger in his breast,
  • Glaring with fierce looks of terror, as he winds him in his den.”
  • Iliad

  [‡ ]“They who are called by the Greeks Syrians, are called Assyrians by the Bar barians”—Herodot. VII. 63.

  [* ]The bridge of boats built by Xerxes. The original ἀμϕίζευκτον αλιον πρωˆνα ἀμϕοτέρας κοινὸν ἄιας seems intelligible no other way So Blom, Pal., and Buck., and Linw.—Compare Note 34 to the Eumenides.

  [* ]See Note 63 to the Choephoræ.

  [* ]Attica.

  [* ]θυμόμαντις.—See Note 67 to Agamemnon.

  [† ]The mines of Laurium, near the Sunian promontory. On their importance to the Athenians during this great struggle with Persia, see Grote, V. p 71.

  [* ]ὲπι σκηπτουχίᾳ ταχθεὶς. So the σκηπτουχοι βασιλεɩ̂ς of Homer.

  [* ]Part of the shore of Salamis, called τροπάια ἄκρα.—Schol.

  [† ]σκληρα̂ς μέτοικος γη̂ς: inest amara ironia.—Blom.

  [* ]αλάστωρ.

  [* ]ἐπέϕλεγεν.

  [† ]The captain of this ship was Ameinias, brother of Æschylus.—See Grote, V. 178.

  [‡ ]A bold expression, but used also by Euripides.—νυκτὸς ὄμμα λυγάιας—(Iphig. Taur., 110) To Polytheists such terms were the most natural things in language.

  [* ]“As soon as the Persian fleet was put to flight, Aristides arrived with some Grecian hoplites at the island of Psyttaleia, overpowered the enemy, and put them to death to a man”—Grote

  [† ]“Having caused the land force to be drawn up along the shore opposite to Salamis, Xerxes had erected for himself a lofty seat or throne upon one of the projecting declivities of Mount Aegaleos, near the Heracleion, immediately overhanging the sea.”—Grote

  [* ]θεὸς indefinitely; a common way of talking in Homer.

  [* ]Facilis descensus Averni, etc.—Virgil, Æneid VI.

  [* ][Editor: illegible character]βρις—See Note 61 to Agamemnon, and Note 41 Eumenides.

  [* ]Salamis in Cyprus, from which the Grecian Salamis was a colony.

  [* ]See p 172, and compare p 271

  [† ]See Note 63 to the Choephoræ.

  [* ]See Ezra ix. 3.

  [Note 1 (p. 301).]

  • “Forth they went with arrow and bow.”

  
  
  The bow was as characteristic of Persian as the spear of Hellenic warfare; and, accordingly, they are contrasted below, p. 305 The Persian Darics bore the figure of an archer. Dict. AntiqvociDaric. “The army of Xerxes, generally,” says Grote, “was armed with missile weapons, and light shields, or no shield at all; not properly equipped either for fighting in regular order, or for resisting the line of spears and shields which the Grecian heavy-armed infantry brought to bear upon them.”—Vol V. p. 43. This was seen with striking evidence when an engagement took place on confined ground as at Thermopylæ, Do. p. 117.

  [Note 2 (p 302).]

  • “. . . golden Sardes”

  
  
  So Creon, in the Antigone of Sophocles, in wrathful suspicion that Tiresias is in conspiracy to prophesy against him for filthy lucre, is made to exclaim (v. 1037)—

  • “Traffic as ye will
  • In the amber-ore that opulent Sardes sends.
  • And Indian gold”

  So also, “golden Babylon,” below; which will recall to the Christian reader the famous words, “Thou shalt take up this proverb against the king of Babylon, and sav How hath the oppressor ceased, the golden city ceased!”—Isaiah xiv. 4. In the same way Xerxes is called “the god-like son of a golden race,” in the choral hymn which immediately follows the present introductory chaunt. Southey, the most learned of our poets, has not forgotten this orientalism when he says—
  
  

  • “Hark! at the golden palaces
  • The Brahmin strikes the hour.”
  • —Curse of Kehama V.

  where see the note.

  [Note 3 (p. 302)]

  • “The well-poised dart.”

  
  
  The Mysians had on their heads a peculiar sort of helmet belonging to the country, small shields, and javelins burnt at the point.—Herodot. VII. 74.—Stan.

  [Note 4 (p. 302)]

  • “The Asian tribes that wear the sword”

  
  
  The μάχαιρα here is the acinaces, or short scimitar, of which the fashion may be seen in the Dict. Antiq. under that word.

  [Note 5 (p. 303).]

  • “Shepherd of many sheep.”

  
  
  A phraseology inherited from the times when “Mesha, king of Moab, was a sheepmaster, and rendered unto the king of Israel 100,000 lambs, and 100,000 rams, with the wool.”—2 Kings iii. 4. So Agamemnon, in Homer (Od. III. 156), is called ποιμήν λάων—the shepherd of the people. See above, p. 413, Note 48.

  [Note 6 (p. 304).]

  • “But, when the gods deceive.”

  
  
  The sudden change of tone here from unlimited confidence in the strength of their own armament, to a pious doubt arising from the consideration that the gods often disappoint “the best laid schemes of men and mice,” and that “the race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong”; this is at once extremely characteristic of ancient Hellenic piety (see the Note on ὕβρις, p. 348), and serves here the dramatic purpose of making the over-weening pride of Xerxes, by contrast, appear more sinful With regard to the style of religious conception here, and the general doctrine that the gods deceive mortal men, especially at moments of extraordinary prosperity and on the point of some sudden reversal, the student will read Grote’s Greece, Vol. V. p. 13.

  [Note 7 (p. 306).]

  • “Let us fall down before her with humble prostration.”

  
  
  This very humble way of expressing respect was quite oriental, and altogether abhorrent to the feelings of the erect Greek, boasting of his liberty. The reader of history may call to mind how this was one of the points of oriental court state, the mooting of which in his later years caused a breach between Alexander the Great and his captains. For references, see Stan.

  [Note 8 (p. 307).]

  • “And dipped my hands in the fair-flowing fount.”

  
  
  This purification, as Stan. has noted, was customary among the ancients, after an ill-omened dream. He quotes Aristophanes, Ran. 1338.

  • “But come, attendants, light a lamp
  • And take a pail, and from the stream
  • Water bring, and warm it well,
  • To wash away the god-sent dream”—

  and other passages.

  [Note 9 (p 307)]

  • “I saw an eagle flying to the altar.”

  
  
  The sight in reality, or in vision, of one bird plucking another under various modifications, was familiar to the ancient divination, as the natural expression of conquest and subjugation. So in the Odyssey shortly before the opening of the catastrophe—

  • “Thus as he spake, on his right hand a bird of omen flew,
  • A hawk, Apollo’s messenger swift, and held within its claws
  • A pigeon, which it rudely plucked, and scattered on the ground
  • Its feathery plumes, between the skies and where Telemachus stood”
  • —XV 525

  In such matters, the ancients did not strain after originality, as a modern would do, but held closely by the most natural, obvious, and most significant types.

  [Note 10 (p 308).]

  • “Where, O friends, is famous Athens on the broad face of the earth?”

  
  
  Here commences a series of questions with regard to Attic geography, topography, and statistics, which to the most inexperienced reader will appear to come in here not in the most natural way. That the mother of Xerxes should have actually been so ignorant of the state of Athens, as she is here dramatically represented, seems scarcely supposable. But that she and the mighty persons of the East generally were grossly ignorant of, and greatly underrated the resources of the small state that was rising in the West, is plain, both from the general habit of the oriental mind, and from what Herodotus (V. 105, quoted by Pal) narrates of Darius, that, when he heard of the burning of Sardes by the Athenians and the Ionians, he asked “who the Athenians were.” On this foundation, a dramatic poet, willing “to pay a pleasant compliment to Athenian vanity” (Buck.), might well erect such a series of interrogatories as we have in the text, though it may be doubted whether he has done it with that tact which a more perfect master of the dramatic art—Shakespere, for instance—would have displayed. There are not a few other passages in the Greek drama where this formal style of questioning ab ovo assumes somewhat of a ludicrous aspect.

  [Note 11 (p. 309).]

  • “Slaves are they to no man living, subject to no earthly name.”

  
  
  As in the quickness of their spirits, the sharpness of their wits, and their love of glory, so particularly in the forward boast of freedom, the ancient Hellenes were very like the modern French. ’Twere a curious parallel to carry out; and that other one also, which would prove even more fertile in curious results, between the ancient Romans and the modern English.

  [Note 12 (p. 310).]

  • “The sundered planks, and the drifted dead.”

  
  
  I do not think there can be any doubt as to the meaning of the original here, πλαγκτοɩ̂ς ε̂ν διπλάκεσσιν—among the wandering planks—δίπλαξ can mean nothing but a double or very strong plank, plate, or (if applied to a dress, as in Homer) fold. There is no need of supposing any “clinging to the planks,” as Lin., following Butler, does. Nevertheless, I have given, likewise, in my translation, the full force of Blom.’s idea that δίπλαξ means the ebb and flow of the sea. This, indeed, lies already in ϕέρεσθαι. Conz. agrees with my version. “Wie treiben sturmend umher sie die Planken!”

  [Note 13 (p. 311).]

  • “. . . There Amestris.”

  
  
  Pal. asserts confidently that the three following verses are corrupt. One of them sins against Porson’s canon of the Cretic ending, and (what is of much more consequence) connects the name of Ariomardus with Sardes, which we found above (p. 302), connected with Thebes. For the sake of consistency, I have taken Porson’s hint, and introduced Metragathus here, from v. 43.

  [Note 14 (p. 312).]

  • “. . . Pallas saves her city.”

  
  
  The apportionment of the last clause of this, and the whole of the following lines, I give according to Well. and Pal., which Buck. also approves in his note. The translation, in such a case, is its own best vindication.

  [Note 15 (p. 312).]

  • “There came a Greek.”

  
  
  The sending of this person was a device of Themistocles, to hasten on a battle, and keep the Greeks from quarrelling amongst themselves. The person sent was Sicinnus his slave, “seemingly an Asiatic Greek, who understood Persian, and had perhaps been sold during the late Ionic revolt, but whose superior qualities are marked by the fact, that he had the care and teaching of the children of his master.”—Grote.

  [Note 16 (p. 312).]

  • “And darkness filled the temple of the sky.”

  
  
  The word τέμενος, says Passow, in the post-Homeric writers of the classical age was used almost exclusively in reference to sacred, or, as we should say, consecrated property. I do not think, therefore, that Lin. does full justice to this word when he translates it merely “the region of the air”, as little can I be content with Conz.’s “Hallen.” Droysen preserves the religious association to well-instructed readers, by using the word Hain, but surely tempte is better in the present connection and to a modern ear. Lucretius (Lib. I. near the end) has “Coeli tonitralia templa.”

  [Note 17 (p. 314).]

  • “. . . dance-loving Pan.”

  
  
  Pan, “the simple shepherd’s awe-inspiring god” (Wordsworth, Exc IV.), was in the mind of the Athenians intimately associated with the glory of the Persian wars, and regarded as one of their chief patrons at Marathon (Herod. VI. 105). This god was the natural patron of all wild and solitary places, such as are seldom disturbed by any human foot save that of the Arcadian shepherds, whose imagination first produced this half-solemn half-freakish creation; and in this view no place could be more appropriate to him than “the barren and rocky Psyttaleia” (Strabo, 395). That he was actually worshipped there, we have, besides the present passage of our poet, the express testimony of Pausanias (I. 36)—“What are called Panic terrors were ascribed to Pan; for loud noises whose cause could not be easily traced were not unfrequently heard in mountainous regions; and the gloom and loneliness of forests and mountains fill the mind with a secret horror, and dispose it to superstitious apprehensions.”—Keightlev.

  [Note 18 (p. 315).]

  • “. . slowly with much hard toil.”

  
  
  The verse in the original—

  • Θρῄκην περάσαντες μόγις πολλῷ πονῳ

  —is remarkable for being divided into two equal halves, in violation of the common cæsuras, the laws of which Porson has pointed out so curiously. Whether there was a special cause for this in the present case—the wish, namely, on the part of the poet to make a harsh line suit a harsh subject, I shall not assert, as the line does not fall particularly harsh on my ear; I have at least done something, by the help of rough consonants and monosyllables, to make my English line come up to the great metrician’s idea of the Greek.

  [Note 19 (p. 317).]

  • “By the mute sea-monsters riven.”

  
  
  It needs hardly be mentioned here that the restless state of the dead body in death by drowning, implied, according to the sensuous metaphysics of the vulgar Greeks, an equally restless condition of the soul in Hades. Hence the point of Achilles’ wrath against Lycaon, in Iliad XXI. 122—

  • “Go, and with the fishes lay thee, they shall lick thy bloody wound
  • With a greedy unconcern, thy mother shall not weep for thee
  • There, nor dew thy bier with sorrow, but Scamander’s whirling flood
  • To the bosom deep shall bear thee of the broad and briny sea.”

  And, in the same book, of another victim of the same inexorable wrath it is said—

  • “To the eels and to the fishes, occupation meet he gave,
  • As they gnawed his flesh, and nicely picked the fat from off his bones”
  • —v 203.

  [Note 20 (p 318).]

  • “Of the pale green olive, ever leafy-fair.”

  
  
  I think it right so to translate, because such is actually the colour of the olive, but I must state, at the same time, that the word in the original is ξανθη̂ς, which has been imitated by Virgil, Æn. V. 309. How the same word should mean both yellow and green, I cannot understand. No doubt the light green of many trees, when the leafage first comes out in spring, has a yellowish appearance; but the ever-green olive is always γλαυκός, as Sophocles has it (O. C. 701). What we call olive-coloured is a mixture of green and yellow; does this come from the colour of the fruit or the oil?

  [Note 21 (p 318).]

  • “The god Darius.”

  
  
  The word δαίμονα here used is that by which both Homer and Æschylus designate the highest celestial beings, from which practice we see what an easy transition there was in the minds of the early Christians to the deification of the martyrs, and the canonization of the saints. Compare Æn. V. v. 47. There is nothing in Popery which is not seated in the deepest roots of human nature.

  [Note 22 (p. 319).]

  • “O Aidóneus, thy charge release.”

  
  
  i.e. Pluto. The reader must not be surprised to see Æschylus putting the names of Greek gods and Greek feelings and ideas generally into the mouths of Persian characters. His excuse lies partly in the fact, that these divine powers and human feelings, though in a Greek form, belonged to the universal heart of man, and partly in the extreme nationality of the old Hellenic culture, which was not apt to go abroad with curiously inquiring eyes into the regions of the barbarian. A national poet, moreover, addressing the masses, must beware of being too learned. Shakespere, in his foreign dramas, though less erudite, is much more effective than Southey in his Epics.

  [Note 23 (p. 319).]

  • “Come, dread lord!”

  
  
  The word in the original here is βαλὴν, a Phœnician word, the same as Baal and Belus, meaning lord—See Gesenius, voce Baal. This root appears significantly in some Carthaginian names, as Hannibal, Hasdrubal, etc.

  [Note 24 (p 319).]

  • “The disc of thy regal tiara showing.”

  
  
  This word belongs as characteristically to the ancient kings of the East, in respect of their head-gear, as the triregno or triple crown, in modern language, belongs to the Pope, and the iron crown to the sovereigns of Lombardy. Accordingly we find Virgil giving it to Priam—

  • “Sceptrumque sacerque tiaras.”
  • —Æneid VII 247

  See further, Dr. Smith’s Dict. Antiq. in voce tiara, and also ϕάλαρον, which I translate disc. As for the sandals, the reader will observe that saffron is a colour, like purple, peculiarly regal and luxurious—στολίδα κροκόεσσαν ἀνεɩ̂σα τρυϕα̂ς.—Eurip. Phæniss. 1491.—Matth.

  [Note 25 (p. 320).]

  • “Why should’st thou die, and leave the land,
  • Thou master of the mighty hand?
  • Why should thy son with foolish venture
  • Shake thy sure Empire to its centre?”

  
  
  Here I may say with Buck., “I have given the best sense I can to the text, but nothing is here certain but the uncertainty of the reading” For a translator, δι ἄνοιαν, proposed by Blom., is convenient enough.

  [Note 26 (p 320).]

  • “Triremes no more?”

  
  
  ναες ἄναες [Editor: illegible character]ναες—A phraseology of which we have found many instances, and of which the Greeks are very fond. So in Homer, before the fight between Ulysses and Irus, one of the spectators foreseeing the discomfiture of the latter, says—

  • Ἠ τάχα [Editor: illegible character]ρος αΙρος ἐπίσπαστον κακον ἔξει
  • ὁιην ἐκ ρακέων ὁ γέρων ἐπιγουνίδα ϕαινει.
  • “Irus soon shall be no Irus, crushed by such dire weight of woes,
  • Self incurred, beneath his tatters what a thigh the old man shows!’

  [Note 27 (p. 322).]

  • “But when man to run is eager, swift is the god to add a spur.”

  
  
  This is sound morality and orthodox theology, even at the present hour. Quos Deus vult perdere prius dementat. Observe here how high Æschylus rises in moral tone above Herodotus, who, in the style that offends us so much in Homer, represents Xerxes, after yielding to the sensible advice of his father’s counsellor Artabanus, as urged on to his ruin by a god-sent vision thrice repeated (VII. 12-18). The whole expedition, according to the historian, is as much a matter of divine planning as the death of Hector by Athena’s cruel deceit in Iliad XXII. 299. Even Artabanus is carried along by the stream of evil counsel, confessing that δαιμονίη τις γίνεται ὁρμὴ, there is an impulse from the gods in the matter which a man may not resist.—See Grote.

  [Note 28 (p. 323).]

  • “Converse with the sons of folly taught thy eager son to err.”

  
  
  The original word for eager here is the same as that translated above impetuous—θούριος, and had a peculiar significancy to a Greek ear, as being that epithet by which Mars is constantly designated in the Iliad; and this god, as the readers of that poem well know, signifies only the wild, unreasoning hurricane power of battle, as distinguished from the calmly-calculated, surely-guided hostility of the wise Athena. With regard to the matter of fact asserted in this line, it is literally true that the son of Darius was not of himself originally much inclined to the Greek expedition (ὲπὶ μεν τὴν Ἑλλάδα ὀυο̂αμωˆς πρόθυμος [Editor: illegible character]ν κατ ἀρχὰς στρατέυεσθαι.—Herod. VII. 5), but, like all weaklings in high places, was wrought upon by others; in this case, specially, by his cousin Mardonius, according to the account of Herodotus.—See Grote, Vol. V. p. 4.

  [Note 29 (p. 323).]

  • “. . . First the Mede was king
  • Of the vast host of people.”

  
  
  Two peculiarities in this enumeration of the early Persian kings will strike the reader. First, Two of the Median kings—Astyages and Cyaxares, according to the common account, are named before Cyrus the Great, who, as being the first native Persian sovereign, is commonly regarded as the founder of the later Persian empire. Second, Between Mardus (commonly called Smerdis), and Darius, the father of Xerxes, two intermediate names—contrary to common account—are introduced. I do not believe our historical materials are such as entitle us curiously to scrutinize these matters.

  [Note 30 (p. 328).]

  • “A Maryandine wailer.”

  
  
  The Maryandini were a Bithynian people, near the Greek city of Heraclea, Xenoph. Anab. vi. 2; Strabo xii. p. 542. The peasants in that quarter were famous for singing a rustic wail, which is alluded to in the text. See Pollux, Lib. iv. περὶ [Editor: illegible character]σμάτων ἐθνικωˆν. The Mysians mentioned, p. 331, below, were their next door neighbours; and the Phrygians generally, who in a large sense include the Mysians and Bithynians, were famous for their violent and passionate music, displayed principally in the worship of Cybele. So the Phrygian in Euripides (Orest. 1384) is introduced wailing ἁρμάτειον μέλος βαρβαρῳ βοᾳ. The critics who have considered this last scene of the cantata ridiculous, have not attended either to human nature or to the customs of the Persians, as Stan. quotes them from Herod. ix. 24, and Curtius iii. 12.

  [Note 31 (p. 328)]
  
  Leader of the Chorus. I have here adopted Lin.’s view, that the Leader of the Chorus here addresses the whole body; and, for the sake of symmetry, have repeated the couplet in the Antistrophe. No violence is thus done to the meaning of ἐκπεύθου. Another way is, with Pal., to put the line into the mouth of Xerxes—“Cry out and ask me!”

  [Note 32 (p. 331).]

  • “Oaring with the oars of woe!”

  
  
  I have carefully retained the original phraseology here, as being characteristic of the Greek tragedians, perhaps of the maritime propensities of the Athenians. See in Seven against Thebes, p. 286 above, and Chœophoræ, p. 112, Strophe VII. Euripides, in Iphig. Aul. 131, applies the same verb to the lower extremities, making Agamemnon say to his old servant ερέσσον σὸν πόδα—as if one of our jolly tars should say in his pleasant slang, “Come along, my boy, put the oars to your old hull, and move off!”

  [Note 33 (p. 332).]

  • “Sons of Susa, with delicate feet.”

  
  
  I should be most happy for the sake of Æschylus, and my translation, to think there was nothing in the ἁβροβάται of this passage but the natural expression of grief so simply given in the scriptural narrative, 1 Kings xxi. 27; and in that stanza of one of Mr. Tennyson’s most beautiful poems—

  • “Full knee-deep lies the wintry snow,
  • And the winter winds are wearily sighing;
  • Toll ye the church bell sad and slow,
  • And tread softly, and speak low,
  • For the old year lies a-dying.”

  But there is more in ἁβρός than mere gentleness, and to the Greek ear it would no doubt speak of the general luxuriance and effeminacy of the Persian manners. To put such an allusion into the mouth of Xerxes on the present occasion is no doubt in the worst possible taste; but the Greeks were too intensely national in their feelings to take a curious account of such matters.

• Back to Top

  3: Archimedes, The Works of Archimedes [1897]

  Archimedes, The Works of Archimedes, edited in Modern Notation with Introductory Chapters by T.L. Heath (Cambridge: at the University Press, 1897).

  Accessed from oll.libertyfund.org/title/1828 on 2008-03-09

  The text is in the public domain.

  ---

• Back to Top

  4: Aristotle, Constitution of Athens [320 BC]

  Aristotle, Aristotle’s Constitution of Athens, trans. Thomas J. Dymes (London: Seeley and Co., 1891).

  Accessed from oll.libertyfund.org/title/580 on 2008-03-09

  The text is in the public domain.

  ---

  INTRODUCTION.

  The treatise on ‘The Constitution of Athens’ has been translated by me primarily for such English readers as may feel curiosity about a book which has excited, and is still exciting, so much interest in the learned world.

  The recovery of such a book, after its loss for so many centuries, is an event in literature; at the same time its argument, largely concerned as it is with the development of democracy at Athens, provides matter of political and practical, rather than of academic, interest for the English reader of to-day.

  I have the pleasure of acknowledging here the courtesy of the Trustees of the British Museum in allowing me to translate from their Text, as edited by Mr. Kenyon, and my great obligations to his labours; they form, unquestionably, a contribution of the highest value, particularly on the subject-matter of the book. It can hardly be expected that, minor corrections excepted, any substantive addition of importance can be made for some time; indeed, not until the ‘experts’ of Europe have had the opportunity of severally recording their views, both as to the text and its matter.

  The gaps and corruptions in the text, however interesting to the critic and emendator, will not long detain the English reader or the student. The hiatuses would seem to be few and generally slight, while some of the corrupt passages open up a wide field for the learned and ingenious. In my translation I have taken the text with its difficulties as I found it, reproducing as nearly as I could in English what the Greek, corrupt as it might be, appeared to me to contain. In one or two cases, where the text is obviously corrupt, I have perhaps used a little freedom in my endeavour to extract something like an intelligible meaning. I have had no higher ambitions. There has been no attempt or desire on my part to offer a solution of difficulties which are now being dealt with by more competent hands.

  The first forty-one chapters, forming about two-thirds of the work, treat of the Constitution, its development and history. The remainder of the book, consisting of twenty-two chapters, furnishes a detailed account of the Council, with some information about the Assembly, and describes the principal offices of state, the modes of appointment, by lot or vote, and their chief functions, concluding with a short mutilated notice of the constitution of the courts of justice.

  T. J. D.

  26, Blenheim Crescent, Notting Hill, W. March 26, 1891.

  EXPLANATION OF TERMS FOR THE ENGLISH READER.

  Officers, or offices of state, magistrates, magistracies = ἀρχαί (archae), particularly the chief executive offices of government. I do not often use ‘magistrate’ or ‘magistracy,’ on account of the limited meaning it has got to have in English. Aristotle commonly uses ‘office’ instead of ‘officer.’ Archon (ἄρχων), as will be seen early in the book, is the special designation of the highest officers of state, of whom the senior (Eponymus) gave his name to the year, like the Roman consuls, e.g., ‘in the archonship of Eukleides.’

  People, popular party or side = δῆμος (demus) implying the possession of political rights, as will often be clear from the context, even when no specific exercise of such rights is referred to.

  The masses = ο[Editor: illegible character] πολλο[Editor: illegible character] (hoi polloi, ‘the many’) and τὸ πλῆθος (to plethos, ‘the multitude’), including ‘the people,’ or ‘popular party,’ and such as are not, or at least may not be, in possession of political rights; a more general term than ‘the people,’ for which, however, in the original it is sometimes used indifferently.

  The Council = Βουλή (Boulé), the great council or deliberative assembly of the state, corresponding roughly to the Roman Senate. Its powers and duties are described chap. xlv. foll.

  Assembly = Ἐχχλησἱα (ekklesia), the great legislative assembly of the people (or citizens), described chap. xliii. foll.; its Presidents = πρυτάνεις (prytanes); presidency, their office and its tenure, chap. xliii.

  Chairmen = πρὀεδροι (proedri), chosen by the ‘presidents’ out of their own number, chap. xliv.

  Juror = διχαστής (dikast); not a real equivalent, as the dikasts acted as judges as well as jurors, and sat in very much larger bodies than our juries.

  Tyrant, tyranny = τὐραννος (a lord), τυραννίς: a ‘tyrant’ in Greek political language means one who has unconstitutionally usurped power in a free state, like Peisistratus. It does not, as with us, imply the abuse of such power; indeed, Peisistratus’ rule was often spoken of as ‘the Golden Age.’ Chap. xvi.

  Talent = τἀλα[Editor: illegible character]τον, about £250 (with a purchasing power sufficient to build a trireme, chap. xxii.); divided into 60 minae, each mina containing 100 drachmae, a drachma being worth about a franc, and containing six obols.

  THE CONSTITUTION OF ATHENS.

  CHAP. I.

  Kylon.

  . . . . swearing by sacred objects according to merit. And the guilt of pollution having been brought home to them, their dead bodies were cast out of their tombs, and their family was banished for ever. On this Epimenides the Cretan purified the city.

  CHAP. II.

  The oligarchical constitution.

  After this it came to pass that the upper classes and the people were divided by party-strife for a long period, for the form of government was in all respects oligarchical; indeed, the poor were in a state of bondage to the rich, both themselves, their wives, and their children, and were called Pelatæ (bond-slaves for hire), and Hektemori (paying a sixth of the produce as rent); for at this rate of hire they used to work the lands of the rich. Now, the whole of the land was in the hands of a few, and if the cultivators did not pay their rents, they became subject to bondage, both they and their children, and were bound to their creditors on the security of their persons, up to the time of Solon. For he was the first to come forward as the champion of the people. The hardest and bitterest thing then to the majority was that they had no share in the offices of government; not but what they were dissatisfied with everything else, for in nothing, so to say, had they any share.

  CHAP. III.

  Before Draco’s time.

  Now, the form of the old government before the time of Draco was of this kind. Officers of state were appointed on the basis of merit and wealth, and at first remained in office for life, but afterwards for a period of ten years. And the greatest and earliest of the officers of state were the king, and commander-in-chief, and archon; and earliest of these was the office of king, for this was established at the beginning; next followed that of commander-in-chief, owing to some of the kings proving unwarlike, and it was for this reason that they sent for Ion when the need arose; and last (of the three) was the archonship—for most authorities say it was established in the time of Medon, but some in the time of Acastus; and they adduce as evidence the fact that the nine archons swear to exercise their office just as they did in the time of Acastus — as the Codridæ having retired in the time of his kingship . . . Now, which of the two accounts is correct is of little importance, but there is no doubt of the fact having actually occurred in these times: and that it was the last of these offices that was established, there is further evidence . . . . that the archon administers just like the king and the commander-in-chief, but . . . . for which reason it is only recently that the office has become important, its dignity having been increased by the privileges that have been added to it. Thesmothetæ* were appointed many years afterwards, being elected to their offices from the first for a year, for the purpose of recording the enactments in writing, and preserving them against the trial of such as transgressed the law; for which reason it was the sole office that was not established for more than a year. So far, therefore, these take precedence of others. The nine archons did not all live together, but the king occupied what is now called the Boukolium, near the Prytaneum (in confirmation of which even to this day the marriage of the king’s wife with Dionysus takes place here), and the archon resides in the Prytaneum, and the commander-in-chief in the Epilyceum. This was formerly called the Polemarchæum, but from the time that Epilycus, when polemarch, rebuilt and furnished it, it was called Epilyceum: and the Thesmothetæ occupied the Thesmotheteum. But in the time of Solon they all lived together in the Thesmotheteum. And they had power to decide law-suits finally, and not as now merely to hold a preliminary inquiry. Such, then, were the arrangements in respect of the officers of state. The duty of the council of the Areopagitæ was to jealously guard the laws, and it administered most of the affairs of state, and those the most important, both by punishing and fining all offenders with authority; for the election of the archons was on the basis of merit and wealth, and of them the Areopagitæ were composed; this is the reason why it is the only office that continues to be held for life up to the present time.

  CHAP. IV.

  Draco’s laws.

  Now, this is a sketch of the first form of government. And after this, at no long interval, when Aristaechmus was archon, Draco made his laws; and this constitution was as follows. Share in the government was assigned to those who provided themselves with arms; and they chose for the nine archons and the treasurers such as were possessed of property to the value of not less than ten minæ free of all encumbrances, and for the other minor offices such as provided themselves with arms, and for generals and commanders of cavalry such as could show property of not less than a hundred minæ free of all encumbrances, and children born in lawful wedlock above ten years of age; these were to be the presidents of the council and generals and commanders of cavalry . . . up to the time of the audit of their accounts . . . . and receiving from the same rating as the generals and commanders of cavalry. The Council was to consist of four hundred and one, selected by lot from the whole body of citizens; such as were over thirty years of age were to obtain this and the other offices by lot, and the same man was not to hold office twice before all had had their turn; and then appointment was to be made afresh by lot. If any member of the Council, when there was a sitting of the Council or Assembly, was absent from the meeting, he had to pay a fine, the Pentakosiomedimnos (the possessor of land which produced five hundred medimni* yearly) three drachmæ, the Knight two, and the Zeugitæ (those who possessed a team of oxen) one. And the council of Areopagus was the guardian of the laws, and jealously watched the magistrates to see that they administered their offices according to the laws. And an injured party had the right of bringing his indictment before the council of the Areopagitæ, on showing in contravention of what law he had sustained his injury. (But all this was of no avail, because) the lower classes were bound on the security of their persons, as has been said, and the land was in the hands of a few.

  CHAP. V.

  Civil dissensions; Solon.

  Such being the constitution in the body politic, and the bulk of the people being in bondage to the few, the people was in a state of opposition to the upper classes. As strife ran high, and the two parties had saced each other for a considerable time, they agreed to choose Solon as mediator and archon, and entrusted the constitution to him after he had composed a poem in elegiac metre, of which the beginning is as follows:

  • ‘I ponder, and within my soul lie woes,
  • As I look on the most honourable land in Ionia;’

  for he ever took the lead, fighting and disputing vigorously for each side against the other, and afterwards recommended them both to put an end to the existing strife. Now, in power of speech and reputation Solon ranked among the first, but in property and position among the moderately rich, as is admitted by all, and as he himself bears witness in these verses, where he recommends the rich not to be grasping:

  • ‘Do ye, quieting in your bosoms your strong hearts,
  • Who of many good things have had your fill even to surfeit,
  • With what is moderate nourish your mighty desire; for neither will
  • We yield, nor shall you have all else as you wish.’

  And in his poems generally he fastens on the rich the blame of these divisions; and it is for this reason, at the beginning of his elegy, he says that he fears the love of money and over-weening pride, attributing to them the enmity that existed.

  CHAP. VI.

  Solon; charge against him.

  Now, Solon, when he had got to be at the head of affairs, made the people free both for the present and the future, by forbidding loans on the security of the person, and he made laws, and a cancelling of all debts both private and public; this they call Seisachtheia (the disburdening ordinance), as having shaken off their burden. It is in regard to these measures that men try to attack his character. For it happened that when Solon was about to make the Seisachtheia, he announced it first to some of the upper class, and then, as the popular side say, his friends stole a march upon him, while the possessors of property bring the injurious charge that he made a profit himself.

  For these friends borrowed money and bought up a great quantity of land, and as the cancelling of debts took place not long afterwards, they became at once rich; this, they say, is the origin of the class who afterwards had the reputation of being rich from of old. Not but what the account of the popular side is the more trustworthy; for it is not reasonable that in all other respects he should have shown himself so moderate and impartial—while it rested entirely with himself whether, or not, he would, by introducing his laws in an underhand way, make himself master of the state, and so an object of hatred to both sides, as also, whether, or not, he would prefer honour and the salvation of the state to any greed for his own gain—it is not reasonable, I say, to suppose that in such petty and unworthy matters he would defile himself. That he possessed such power, and remedied the distempered state of affairs, both he himself records in many passages of his poems, and all others agree. This charge, therefore, should be adjudged false.

  CHAP. VII.

  His constitution.

  So he established a constitution and made other laws, and they ceased to use the laws of Draco, except in matters of homicide. They inscribed the laws on the tablets,* and placed them in the court where the king archon sat, and all swore to abide by them; and the nine archons, swearing beside the stone, declared that they would make an offering of a gold statue if they transgressed any of the laws; hence it is that they so swear even to this day. And he ratified the laws for a hundred years, and constituted the government in the following way: He divided property qualifications into four ratings, just as a division had existed before, viz., the Pentakosiomedimnos, the Knight, the Zeugites, and the Thes (poorest class). He assigned as officers of state out of Pentakosiomedimni and Knights and Zeugitæ, the nine archons and the treasurers, and the government-sellers* and the Eleven and the Kolakratæ, to each class assigning office in proportion to the magnitude of its assessment. To the class of Thetes he gave a share only in the Assembly and courts of justice. And all had to class as Pentakosiomedimni who, from their own property, made five hundred measures, dry and wet combined, and in the class of Knights such as made three hundred, or, as some say, were able to keep a horse: the latter bring as evidence both the name of the class, as if it had been given from that fact, as well as the votive offerings of men of old; for there is an offering in the Acropolis of a figure of Diphilus with the following inscription:

  • ‘Anthemion dedicated this figure of Diphilus to the gods
  • When he exchanged the thetic rating for the knightly rank.’

  And there stands beside it a horse, witnessing that it means the class of Knights. Not but what it is more reasonable that they were classified by measures just in the same way as the Pentakosiomedimni. And all had to be rated as Zeugitæ who made two hundred measures combined, and all the rest as Thetes, having no share in any office of state; for which reason even now, if anyone going to be elected to an office were asked in what class he was rated, he would never think of saying in that of the Thetes.

  CHAP. VIII.

  Solon’s constitution.

  He caused the officers of state to be appointed by lot from candidates whom each of the tribes selected. For each selected ten for the nine archons; hence it is that it is still the practice of the tribes for each to appoint ten by lot, and then to appoint by lot from them. And evidence that they caused qualified persons to be appointed by lot is afforded by the law regarding the treasurers, which law they have continued to make use of even to this day, for it ordains that treasurers should be appointed by lot from Pentakosiomedimni. Solon, then, thus legislated regarding the nine archons. For in old days the council on Mars’ Hill decided, after citation, on its own authority who was the proper man for each of the offices of state, and invested him accordingly, making the appointment for a year. Now, there were four tribes just as before, and four tribe-kings. Each tribe was divided into three Trittyes (thirds of a tribe) and twelve Naukrariæ. Magistrates of the Naukrariæ were appointed, viz., the Naukrari, who had charge of the current revenues and expenditure; and this is the reason why (as is probable) it is ordained in the laws of Solon, by which they are no longer governed, that the Naukrari should get in the moneys and make disbursements from the Naukraric funds. He made the Council four hundred, a hundred from each tribe, and he assigned to the council of the Areopagitæ the duty of still watching over the laws generally, just as before it had been the overseer of the administration, and jealously guarded the greater number, and those the most important, of the interests of the citizens, and corrected offenders, having authority to fine and punish, and reported to the state the punishments it inflicted, without recording the reasons of those punishments, and sat in judgment on those who combined for the overthrow of the people, in conformity with Solon’s legislation. Now, these were the duties that he assigned in their case. And seeing that the state was often torn by faction, and that some of the citizens from indifference stood aloof, of his own motion he passed a law specially directed against them as follows—that anyone who, when the state was divided into parties, did not take up arms and side with one or the other, should be deprived of his political rights, and have no part in the state.

  CHAP. IX.

  How Solon gave power to the people.

  Such, then, were his institutions regarding the officers of state. Now, the following are the three provisions of the constitution of Solon which appear to be the most favourable to the people: first and foremost, the prohibition of loans on the security of the person; then the right accorded to anyone who wished to seek in the courts a remedy for his wrongs; and third (by which, most of all, they say the masses have acquired power), the right of appeal to the court of justice; for when the people is master of the vote, it becomes master of the government. Its power was still further augmented at this time by the want of simplicity in the framing of the laws, and the uncertainty in their interpretation, for as in the case of the law regarding inheritances and only daughters and heiresses, it was inevitable that disputes should arise, and consequently that the courts of law would be the judges in all matters public as well as private. Now, some think that he made his laws uncertain with the express purpose of giving the people some control over the judicial power. Not that this is probable, the explanation rather being that he was unable to embrace in his laws what was best as a general rule and in every particular instance; for it is not right to infer his intention from what is now taking place, but it should be looked for rather in the general spirit of his constitution.

  CHAP. X.

  Reforms the currency, weights and measures.

  In his laws, then, he seems to have introduced these measures in favour of the people, but prior to his legislation to have instituted the cancelling of debts, and afterwards the increase in measures and weights, as well as in the current coin. For it was in his time also that the measures were made larger than the Pheidonean standard, as well as the mina, which had formerly contained about seventy drachmæ. Now, the ancient standard coin was a double drachma. And he made the weight for the current coin sixty(-three) minæ to the talent, and additional minæ were assigned to the stater and all other weights.

  CHAP. XI.

  Goes abroad.

  When he had drawn up the constitution in the way that has been described, and everybody came to him and made themselves disagreeable about the laws, some blaming and others criticising, as he did not wish either to disturb these arrangements, or to become an object of hatred by his presence, he determined to go abroad for ten years, proposing to combine trade with observation and to reside in Egypt, in the neighbourhood of the city of Canopus. He came to this determination because he did not think it right that he personally should explain his laws, but his view was that each individual should do what was prescribed by them. It was his ill-fortune too that many of the upper classes had now become his enemies on account of the cancelling of debts, and that both factions had changed their attitude in consequence of the actual settlement proving to be contrary to their expectation. For the people thought that he would make a redistribution of property, and the upper ranks that he would restore again the old order of things. Having disappointed these expectations, he found himself in opposition to both sides, and although it was in his power, by combining with either side, if he wished, to make himself absolute, he chose rather to become an object of hatred to both after he had saved his country and passed the most excellent laws.

  CHAP. XII.

  The testimony of his own poems.

  That this was the position of affairs all without exception agree, and he himself in his poetry refers to it in the following words:

  • ‘For to the people I gave such privilege as suffices,
  • Neither taking away from or aiming at honour.
  • But such as possessed power, and from their wealth were leaders,
  • Them I counselled to retain nothing unseemly.
  • I stood with my mighty shield thrown around both,
  • And suffered not either to triumph unrighteously.’

  And again when expressing his opinion as to how the people ought to be treated:

  • The people in this way would follow best with its leaders
  • Under neither too slack nor too strait a control.
  • For satiety is the parent of insolence, whenever great prosperity follows
  • Men whose disposition is not well ordered.’

  And again, read where he speaks about such as wished to divide the land among themselves:

  • ‘And they came on the spoil with a wealth of hope,
  • And they thought each of them to find great prosperity,
  • And that I, though talking smoothly, would manifest a harsh spirit.
  • Vain were their thoughts then, and now angered with me,
  • With eyes askance all regard me like enemies.
  • Not rightly; for what I said, with the help of the gods, I have accomplished;
  • But other things I was attempting in vain, nor does it please me
  • To do aught by force of tyranny, or of our rich fatherland
  • That the bad should have an equal share with the good.’

  And again also about the distress of the poor, and those who were before in bondage, but were made free by the cancelling of debts:

  • ‘But for what reason I the people whirling
  • On the axle . . . .
  • She best would bear witness in Time’s justice,
  • Mightiest mother of Olympian gods,
  • Black Earth, whose boundaries fixed
  • In many places I formerly plucked up,
  • She who was before in bondage, but now is free.
  • And I brought back to Athens, to their god-founded
  • Fatherland, many who had been sold, one unjustly,
  • Another justly, and the poor who from necessity
  • Were exiles, no longer giving utterance to
  • The Attic tongue, in many directions wandering about;
  • Those who on this very spot were suffering
  • Unseemly bondage, trembling at the ways of their masters,
  • Free I set. This too by the strength
  • Of law, fitting might and right together.
  • I wrought and went through with it as I promised.
  • And laws equally for the good man and the bad,
  • To each fitting straight justice,
  • I drew up. Another taking the goad as I did,
  • An evil-minded and wealth-loving man.
  • Would not have controlled the people. For if I had wished
  • What pleased my enemies at that time,
  • * * * * *
  • Of many men would this city have been widowed.
  • For these reasons, girding myself with strength on all sides,
  • I bore me as a wolf amid many hounds.’

  And again, when he reproaches them for the complaints that each side afterwards levelled against him:

  • ‘If it is right to reproach the people plainly,
  • What they now possess, still sleeping,
  • They ne’er had looked on with their eyes.
  • All who are more powerful and in might better
  • Would commend and claim me as their friend.’

  For he says that if ever anybody obtained this honour, he did:

  • ‘He would not have controlled the people, or stopt
  • Before he had disturbed and carried off the beestings;
  • But I between them in the gap like a barrier
  • Planted myself.’

  CHAP. XIII.

  Party divisions immediately following.

  These, then, were the reasons why Solon went and lived abroad.

  After he had left his country, although the city was still in an unquiet state, for four years they lived in peace; but in the fifth year after the magistracy of Solon they did not appoint an archon, owing to the factions which prevailed; and a second time in the fifth year, for the same reason, they did not appoint to the office. And after this, in the same period, Damasias was elected archon, and continued in office for two years and two months, until he was driven from it by force. Then they decided, on account of the strength of party feeling, to elect ten archons, five from the nobles, three from the landowners, and two from the handicraftsmen; and these held office the year after Damasias, thus making it clear that the archon possessed the greatest power, for it is evident that they were always engaged in party strife about this office. And they continued generally in an unhealthy state in their relations with one another, some on the score of office, and making a pretext of the cancelling of debts, for they had become poor men in consequence; some from discontent at the government, because the change had been great; and others because of their rivalry with one another. The divisions were three: one the party of the Shore, at the head of which was Megakles, the son of Alkmæon, and they had the reputation of aiming, most of all, at a moderate government; and the second, the party of the Plain, who sought an oligarchy, with Lykurgus as their leader; and the third, the party of the Mountain, at the head of which stood Peisistratus, with the character of being a strong partisan of the people. And the ranks of this party had been swollen by such as had been relieved of their debts in consequence of their poverty, and by such as were not of pure blood from motives of fear.* Evidence of this is afforded by the fact that after the establishment of tyrants they made a proclamation that it was not fitting that many should participate in the government. And each party took its name from the district in which they cultivated the land.

  CHAP. XIV.

  Peisistratus makes himself tyrant; his exile and return.

  Peisistratus, with his character of being a strong partisan of the people and the great reputation that he had made in the war against the Megarians, by covering himself with wounds and then pretending that he had suffered this treatment from the opposite faction, succeeded in persuading the people to give him a body-guard, on the proposal of Aristion. When he had got the club-bearers, as they were called, he rose up with them against the people, and seized the Acropolis in the thirty-second year after the passing of the laws in the archonship of Komeas. The tale goes that Solon, when Peisistratus asked for the guard, spoke against it, and said that he was wiser than some and braver than others; for that he was wiser than all such as did not know that Peisistratus was aiming at absolute power, and braver than such as who, although they knew this, held their peace. When his words availed nothing, taking up his arms before the doors, he said that he had come to the rescue of his country as far as he was able (for he was by this time an exceedingly old man), and called upon everybody else to follow his example. Solon effected nothing at the time by his exhortations. And Peisistratus, after he had possessed himself of the supreme power, administered the state more like a citizen than a tyrant. But as his power was not yet firmly rooted, the parties of Megakles and Lykurgus came to an agreement, and drove him out in the sixth year after his first establishment in the archonship of Hegesias. In the twelfth year after this, Megakles, being harassed by the rival parties, again made proposals to Peisistratus on the condition that he should marry his daughter, and brought him back again in quaint and exceedingly simple fashion. For he first spread a report that Athena was bringing back Peisistratus; then, having found a tall and beautiful woman—as Herodotus says of the deme of the Pæanes, but as some say, a Thracian, a seller of garlands of Kolyttus, whose name was Phye—he dressed her up so as to look like the goddess, and so brought back the tyrant with him. In this way Peisistratus made his entry, riding in a chariot with the woman sitting by his side, and the citizens, doing obeisance, received them in wonderment.

  CHAP. XV.

  How he disarmed the people.

  His first return from exile took place in this way. After this, when he was driven out the second time, about the seventh year after his return—for he did not retain his power long, but being unwilling to unite himself to the daughter of Megakles, for fear of giving offence to both factions, went secretly away—he first took part in colonizing a place in the neighbourhood of the Thermæan Gulf, which is called Rhækelus, and thence passed on to the parts about Pangæus. There he made money and hired soldiers, and coming to Eretria in the eleventh year, again he made his first attempt to recover his power by force, with the good-will of many, particularly of the Thebans and Lygdamis of Naxos, besides the knights who were at the head of the government in Eretria. And having been victorious in the battle at Pallene,* and recovered the supreme power, he stripped the people of their arms, and was now firmly seated in the tyranny. He went to Naxos also and established Lygdamis in power. Now, he stripped the people of their arms after the following fashion: Ordering a review under arms in the Anakeum, he pretended to make an attempt to harangue them, but spoke in a low voice; and when they said they could not hear, he bade them go up to the propylæa of the Acropolis, that he might be heard the better. Whilst he continued addressing them, those who had been appointed for the purpose took away the arms of the people, and shut them up in the neighbouring buildings of the Thesæum. They then came and informed Peisistratus. After finishing his speech, he told the people what had been done about their arms, saying that they had no need to be surprised or out of heart, but bade them go home and attend to their own affairs, adding that all public matters would now be his concern.

  CHAP. XVI.

  His government moderate and popular.

  The tyranny of Peisistratus was at first established in this way, and experienced the changes just enumerated. As we have said, Peisistratus administered the government with moderation, and more like a citizen than a tyrant. For, in applying the laws, he was humane and mild, and towards offenders clement, and, further, he used to advance money to the needy for their agricultural operations, thus enabling them to carry on the cultivation of their lands uninterruptedly. And this he did with two objects: that they might not live in the city, but being scattered over the country, and enjoying moderate means and engaged in their own affairs, they might have neither the desire nor the leisure to concern themselves with public matters. At the same time he had the advantage of a greater revenue from the careful cultivation of the land; for he took a tithe of the produce. It was for this reason, too, that he instituted jurors throughout the demes, and often, leaving the capital, made tours in the country, seeing matters for himself, and reconciling such as had differences, so that they might have no occasion to come to the city and neglect their lands. It was on such a tour that the incident is said to have occurred about the man in Hymettus, who was cultivating what was afterwards called the ‘No-Tax-Land.’ For seeing a man delving at rocks with a wooden peg and working away, he wondered at his using such a tool, and bade his attendants ask what the spot produced. ‘Every ill and every woe under the sun,’ replied the man, ‘and Peisistratus must take his tithe of these ills and these woes.’ Now, the man made this answer not knowing who he was; but Peisistratus, pleased at his boldness of speech and love of work, gave him immunity from all taxes. And he never interfered with the people in any other way indeed during his rule, but ever cultivated peace and watched over it in times of tranquillity. And this is the reason why it often passed as a proverb that the tyranny of Peisistratus was the life of the Golden Age; for it came to pass afterwards, through the insolence of his sons, that the government became much harsher. But what more than any other of his qualities made him a favourite was his popular sympathies and kindness of disposition. For while in all other matters it was his custom to govern entirely according to the laws, so he never allowed himself any unfair advantage, and on one occasion when he was cited before the Areopagus on a charge of murder, he appeared himself in his own defence, and his accuser, getting frightened, withdrew from the suit. It was for such reasons also, that he remained tyrant for a long period, and when he lost his power easily recovered it again; for most of the upper classes and of the popular side desired it, since he helped the one by his intercourse with them, and the other by his assistance in their private affairs, and from his natural disposition could adapt himself to both. The laws of the Athenians regarding tyrants were mild in these times, all of them, and particularly the one relating to any attempt at tyranny, for their law stood as follows: ‘These are the ordinances of the Athenians, inherited from their fathers: whoever rises up to make himself a tyrant, or assists in establishing a tyranny, shall be deprived of his political rights, both himself and his family.’

  CHAP. XVII.

  Succeeded by his sons.

  So Peisistratus retained his power till he became an old man and fell sick and died during the archonship of Philoneos, having lived three-and-thirty years from the time that he first established himself as tyrant. Of this period he continued in power nineteen years, for he was in exile the remainder of the time. It is evident therefore that they talk nonsense who assert that Peisistratus was beloved of Solon, and that he was general in the war with the Megarians about Salamis; for it is impossible from their respective ages, if one calculates how long either lived, and during whose archonship he died. After the death of Peisistratus, his sons held sovereign power, conducting the government in the same way. There were two sons by his wife, Hippias and Hipparchus, and two by the Argive woman, Tophon and Hegesistratus, otherwise called Thessalus. For Peisistratus married from Argos, Timonassa, the daughter of an Argive, whose name was Gorgilus, whom Archinus, the Ampraciot of the Kypselidæ, previously had to wife. From this union arose his friendship with the Argives, and they fought on his side to the number of a thousand at the battle of Pallene, Peisistratus having brought them with him. Some say that he married his Argive wife during his first exile, others that he did so when he was in possession of his power.

  CHAP. XVIII.

  Harmodius and Aristogeiton.

  Hippias and Hipparchus were at the head of affairs by right of their claims and their ages; Hippias, being the elder, and by nature fitted for state affairs, and endowed with good sense, presided over the government. But Hipparchus was fond of trifling, amorous, and a votary of the Muses; it was he who sent for Anacreon and Simonides, and the rest of the poets, with their companions. Thessalus was much younger, and in his manner of life overbearing and insolent. And from him came the beginning of all their ills. For being enamoured of Harmodius, and meeting with no response to his affection, he could not restrain his wrath, but took every opportunity of displaying the bitterness of his hatred. At last, when Harmodius’ sister was going to act as basket-bearer in the Panathenæa, he forbade her, and made use of some abusive expressions about Harmodius being a coward, the result of which was that Harmodius and Aristogeiton were incited to do their deed in conjunction with many of their fellow-citizens. The celebration of the Panathenæa was proceeding, and they were lying in wait for Hippias on the Acropolis (now, he happened to be following whilst Hipparchus was getting the procession ready), when they saw one of their fellow-conspirators in friendly conversation with Hippias; thinking that he was turning informer, and wishing to do something before they were arrested, they descended from the Acropolis, and without waiting for the rest of the conspirators, killed Hipparchus by the Leokoreum as he was arranging the procession. Thus they ruined the whole plot, and of their number Harmodius was straightway killed by the spearmen, and Aristogeiton was subsequently apprehended, and for a long time subjected to outrage. When he was put to the torture he accused many who were both of illustrious birth and friendly to the tyrants. For it was impossible on the spot to get any clue to the affair, and the story that is told how Hippias disarmed those who were taking part in the procession, and thus caught such as had daggers upon them, is not true; for at that time armed men did not take part in the procession, and the practice was introduced by the people in after-times. And he accused the friends of the tyrants, as the popular side say, on purpose that they might commit an act of impiety, and show their baseness by destroying the guiltless and their own friends; but some say, on the other hand, that it was not an invention on his part, but he informed against such as were actually privy to the plot. And at last, when he was unable, do what he would, to compass his death, he promised to reveal many others, and persuading Hippias to give him his right hand as a pledge of his good faith, as he held it he reviled him for giving his right hand to the murderer of his brother, and so exasperated Hippias that he could not restrain his rage, but drew his sword and despatched him on the spot.

  CHAP. XIX.

  Expulsion of the Peisistratidæ.

  In consequence of these events the tyranny became much harsher; for both by the vengeance he had taken for his brother, and his many executions and banishments, Hippias had made himself an object of distrust and bitter hatred to all. And about the fourth year after the death of Hipparchus, when things were going badly with him in the city, he took in hand the fortification of Munychia, with the intention of shifting his residence to that quarter. Whilst he was engaged in this work he was driven out by Kleomenes, King of Lacedæmon, as the Laconians were perpetually receiving oracles inciting them to put an end to the tyranny for the following reason. The exiles, at the head of whom were the Alkmæonidæ, were not able by their own unassisted efforts to effect their return, but failed in every attempt; for they were unsuccessful in their intrigues in every instance, and when they fortified Lipsydrium by Parnes, in Attica, where some of their partizans in the city came to join them, they were forced to surrender by the tyrants; hence in later days after this calamity, they used always to sing in their banquet-songs:

  • ‘Woe! woe! Lipsydrium, betrayer of thy fellows,
  • What men hast thou destroyed
  • Good to fight and good to their native land,
  • Who then showed of what fathers they were come.’

  Failing, then, in all their attempts, they contracted to build the temple at Delphi, by which means they became well supplied with money for procuring the help of the Laconians. For the Pythia was always ordering the Lacedæmonians, when they consulted the oracle, to make Athens free. To this it directly incited the Spartiatæ, although the Peisistratidæ were their friends. And the friendship that subsisted between the Argives and the Peisistratidæ contributed in no less degree to the eagerness of the Laconians. At first, then, they despatched Anchimolus with a force by sea. And after his defeat and death, owing to Kineas the Thessalian having come to the help of the Peisistratidæ with a thousand horse, being further angered by this incident, they despatched Kleomenes their king with a larger force by land. He first gained a victory over the Thessalian horse as they were trying to prevent him from entering Attica, and then shutting up Hippias in what is called the Pelasgic fort, he began to besiege him in conjunction with the Athenians. And as he was blockading it, the sons of the Peisistratidæ happened to be taken prisoners when making a sally. Under these circumstances the Peisistratidæ came to an agreement, stipulating for the safety of their children; and having conveyed away their property within five days, they handed over the Acropolis to the Athenians in the archonship of Harpaktides, having held the tyranny after the death of their father about seventeen years, the whole period, including that of their father’s power, amounting to forty-nine years.

  CHAP. XX.

  Isagoras and Kleisthenes.

  After the tyranny was put down, the parties arrayed against one another were Isagoras the son of Tisandrus, who was a friend of the tyrants, and Kleisthenes, who was of the family of the Alkmæonidæ. Being in a minority in the political clubs, Kleisthenes won over the people by giving political rights to the masses. But Isagoras, not being sufficiently powerful of himself, again called in Kleomenes, who was his friend, and prevailed upon him to help in driving out the pollution, because the Alkmæonidæ were accounted to be among the number of the accursed. And on Kleisthenes secretly withdrawing with a few followers, he drove out as being under the curse seventy households of the Athenians. After this success he made an attempt to overthrow the Council. But when the Council resisted, and the people gathered in crowds, Kleomenes and Isagoras with their followers took refuge in the Acropolis. And the people, blockading it, besieged them for two days, but on the third they let Kleomenes and all his followers depart on certain terms, and sent for Kleisthenes and the rest of the exiles. When the people had made itself master of the government, Kleisthenes became the leader and representative of the people. For the expulsion of the tyrants was almost entirely due to the Alkmæonidæ, and they continued for the most part to carry on a party warfare. But even before the Alkmæonidæ, Kedon made an attack on the tyrants, and for that reason they used to sing about him also at banquets:

  • ‘By spear and Kedon, boy, and forget not,
  • If it is thine to pour out wine to brave men.’

  CHAP. XXI.

  The constitution of Kleisthenes.

  These then were the reasons why the people had confidence in Kleisthenes. And at that time, when he was at the head of the masses, in the fourth year after the overthrow of the tyrants, he first distributed them all into ten tribes instead of four as previously, wishing to mix them up in order that more might have a share in the government; hence the saying, ‘not to examine the tribes,’ as addressed to those who wished to review the lists of the families.* Afterwards he made the Council five hundred instead of four hundred, taking fifty from each tribe, for at that time there were a hundred from each tribe. And the reason why he did not distribute them into twelve tribes was that he might not have to divide them according to the existing Trittyes (third parts of tribes); for the four tribes were composed of twelve Trittyes, with the result that the masses were not intermingled. And he divided the country by demes into thirty parts, ten for the neighbourhood of the city, ten for the shore districts, and ten for the interior, and calling these Trittyes, he allotted three to each tribe, that each might have a part in all the different localities. And he made fellow-members of the same deme those who lived in each of the demes, in order that they might not, by calling after the name of the father, detect the new citizens, but give them their surnames from their demes; hence it is that the Athenians do call themselves by their demes. He also established presidents of the demes, with the same duties as the former Naukrari; for he also made the demes take the place of the Naukrariæ. And he named some of the demes from their localities, and others from their founders; since some of the localities now erected into demes had no founders from whom they could be called.* But the Genē (collections of families) and Phratriæ (three to a tribe, and comprising each thirty Genē) and the priesthoods he allowed each to retain as they had come down to them from their forefathers. And to the tribes he gave surnames from the hundred selected founders whom the Pythia appointed, to the number of ten.

  CHAP. XXII.

  The times immediately following; ostracism; building of a hundred triremes.

  In consequence of these changes the constitution became much more popular than that of Solon; for it had come to pass that under the tyranny the laws of Solon had become a dead letter from disuse, and that Kleisthenes had made the others to win over the masses, among which was passed the law about ostracism. First then in the fifth year after this settlement, in the archonship of Hermoukreon they drew up for the Council of the five hundred the oath by which they swear even to this day; then they chose the generals by tribes, from each tribe one, and the polemarch was the commander-in-chief. In the twelfth year after this, when they had been victorious at Marathon, in the archonship of Phænippus, and two years had elapsed since the victory, and the people had now grown bold, then it was that for the first time they put in force the law about ostracism. Now this law had been passed by reason of their suspicion of those in power, because Peisistratus had established himself as tyrant when he was a leader of the people and a general. The very first man to be ostracised was one of his relations, Hipparchus, the son of Charmus of Kolyttus, on whose account especially it was that Kleisthenes, wishing to get him banished, passed the law. For the Athenians allowed all the friends of the tyrants, who had not taken any part in wrong-doing during the troubles, to live in the city, thus displaying the wonted clemency of the popular government. Of these Hipparchus was the leader and representative. At the beginning of the following year, in the archonship of Telesinus, they appointed by lot the nine archons according to tribes from the five hundred, who had been selected by the members of demes immediately after the tyranny (for formerly they had been all elected). And Megakles, the son of Hippocrates of Alopeke, was ostracised. For three years then they kept ostracising the friends of the tyrants, and after this in the fourth year they removed anyone else besides who appeared to be too powerful. The first to be ostracised of those who were not connected with the tyranny was Xanthippus, the son of Ariphron. And in the third year after this, during the archonship of Nicodemus, when the mines at Maronea were discovered, and the state acquired a hundred talents from working them, some counselled the people to divide the money among themselves. But Themistokles would not allow it, declaring that he would not use the money, and urged them to advance it on loan to the hundred richest men among the Athenians, to each a talent, and then recommended, if it met their approval, that it should be expended in the service of the state, and if not, that they should get in the money from those who had borrowed it. Getting the money in this way, he had a hundred triremes built, each of the hundred talents building one; and it was with these ships that they fought at Salamis against the barbarians. In these times Aristides, the son of Lysimachus, was ostracised. And in the fourth year, in the archonship of Hypsichides, they received back all who had been ostracised, in consequence of Xerxes’ expedition. And for the future they made Geræstus and Scyllæum the prescribed limits within which ostracised persons were free to live, and in default they were to lose their political rights for ever.

  CHAP. XXIII.

  Recovery of power by the Areopagus; Themistokles and Aristides.

  At that time, then, and up to this point in its history, the state advanced together with the democracy, and gradually increased in power. But after the Median war the council of the Areopagus again became powerful, and administered the government, having got the leadership, not from any formal decree, but from having brought about the sea-fight at Salamis. For when the generals had shown themselves quite unequal to the emergency, and had proclaimed a sauve qui peut, the Areopagus came forward with funds, and distributing eight drachmæ to each sailor, so manned the ships. For this reason they yielded to its claims, and the Athenians were governed well at this particular period; for circumstances led them to give their attention to war: they were held in high esteem among the Greeks, and made themselves masters of the sea, despite the Lacedæmonians. The leaders of the people in these days were Aristides, the son of Lysimachus, and Themistokles, the son of Neokles, the latter devoting himself to military matters, while the former enjoyed the reputation of being a sagacious statesman, and conspicuous for justice among his contemporaries. They accordingly made use of the services of the one in war, and of the other in council. The rebuilding of the walls, however, was conducted by both of them together, notwithstanding their political differences; but it was Aristides who urged on the revolt of the Ionians and the alliance with the Lacedæmonians, watching his opportunity when the Laconians had been brought into ill-odour by the doings of Pausanias. This was the reason why it was he who apportioned to the cities the tributes which were first imposed in the third year after the sea-fight at Salamis in the archonship of Timosthenes, and why he made a treaty with the Ionians, offensive and defensive, in confirmation of which they sunk the bars of iron in the sea.*

  CHAP. XXIV.

  Athens lays claims to the leadership of Greece.

  After this, when the city was now in good heart and its treasury overflowing, he advised the people to lay a claim to national supremacy, and to leave the country, and come and live in the city; saying that there would be the means of living for all, for some in military service, for others in keeping guard, and for the rest in public employments, and that in this way they would obtain national supremacy. Yielding to these representations, they assumed the leadership of Greece, and treated the allies in sufficiently lordly fashion, except the Chians and Lesbians and Samians; for these they kept as guards of their empire, leaving them their forms of government, and not interfering with their rule over such subjects as they had. They established for the masses easy means of subsistence, just in the way Aristides had shown them; for from their tributes and their taxes and their allies the maintenance of more than twenty thousand men was provided. There were six thousand jurors, and sixteen hundred archers, and in addition to them twelve hundred cavalry, five hundred of the Council, and guards of the dockyards five hundred, and in the city fifty guards, and home magistrates up to seven hundred men, and men on foreign service up to seven hundred; and besides these, when they afterwards engaged in war, two thousand five hundred hoplites, and twenty guard-ships, and other ships which brought the tributes, manned by two thousand men chosen by lot, and further the Prytaneum, and orphans and guards of prisoners; for all these derived their maintenance from the public funds.

  CHAP. XXV.

  Overthrow of the Areopagus by Ephialtes and Themistokles.

  The people therefore got its means of support in this way. And for about seventeen years after the Persian war the constitution was maintained under the presidency of the Areopagitæ, although it was gradually losing ground. But as the masses were increasing in power, Ephialtes, the son of Sophonides, with the reputation of being incorruptible and of entertaining just intentions towards the constitution, became leader of the people, and made an attack on the council. First he made away with many of the Areopagitæ, bringing actions against them for their administration. Afterwards, in the archonship of Konon, he stripped the council of all the privileges, in right of which it was the guardian of the constitution, and made them over partly to the five hundred and partly to the courts of justice. And he carried out these measures in conjunction with Themistokles, who was one of the Areopagitæ, and about to be put on his trial on the charge of Medism. And desiring the overthrow of the council, Themistokles told Ephialtes that the council intended to seize him as well as himself, while at the same time he told the Areopagitæ that he would point out to them those who were banding together for the overthrow of the government. And taking the persons who were despatched by the council to the house of Ephialtes, to point out to them those who were meeting together there, he joined in earnest conversation with the representatives of the council. And Ephialtes, seeing this, in alarm took refuge at the altar with only his tunic on. All wondered at what had happened, and when the Council of the five hundred assembled afterwards, Ephialtes and Themistokles brought accusations against the Areopagitæ, and again before the people in the same way, until they stripped them of their power. And Ephialtes also was got rid of, being treacherously murdered not long afterwards by Aristodicus of Tanagra. So the council of the Areopagitæ was in this way deprived of its supervision of the state.

  CHAP. XXVI.

  Growth of the Democracy; Kimon.

  After this, in the course of circumstances, the constitution became further weakened through the zeal of the leaders of the people, for in these times, as it fell out, the more moderate party was without a leader. Now Kimon, the son of Miltiades, was at their head, a man comparatively young, and who had entered upon public life late. Moreover, the greater portion of this party had been destroyed in war, which happened in this way: The army was enrolled in those times from those who were on the list for service, and generals were appointed to command who had no experience of war, but were held in honour for their ancestral glories, the consequence of which was, that those who went to the wars perished by two or three thousand at a time. In this way the moderate men, both of the people and of the well-to-do, were used up. Now, in everything else the government was administered differently to what it was before, when men gave heed to the laws, but the election of the nine archons was not disturbed. Still, in the sixth year after the death of Ephialtes, they decreed that those who were to be balloted for in the elections of the nine archons should be selected also from the Zeugitæ, and the first of that class who filled the office was Mnesitheides. But all before him had belonged to the Knights and Pentakosiomedimni, while the Zeugitæ used to hold the offices that went round in succession (but not the archonship), unless some oversight of the provisions of the laws chanced to occur. In the fifth year after this, in the archonship of Lysikrates, the thirty jurors were again established, who were called after the demes. In the third year after him, in the archonship of Antidotus, owing to the great increase in the number of citizens, they decreed, on the proposal of Perikles, that no one should share in political rights unless both his parents were citizens.

  CHAP. XXVII.

  Perikles.

  After this Perikles came to lead the people. He first made a name for himself when, as a young man, he called in question the accounts of Kimon during his command. The constitution then became, in the course of events, still more democratical; for he stripped the Areopagitæ of some of their privileges, and, what was the cardinal point of his policy, urged on the state to acquire naval power, in consequence of which the masses grew bold, and drew the whole government more into their own hands. And in the forty-ninth year after the seafight at Salamis, in the archonship of Pythodorus, the Peloponnesian war broke out, during which the people, shut up as they were in the city and accustomed to serve for pay in the armies, partly of their own free will, and partly against their wishes, elected to administer the government themselves. And Perikles was the first to introduce pay for the services of the jurors, thus bidding for popularity as against the influence that Kimon derived from his ample means. For Kimon, as the possessor of royal wealth, first discharged the public services with great splendour, and afterwards supported many of the members of his deme. Any of the Lakiadæ who liked might go to him every day to get their rations; moreover, all his grounds were left unfenced, so that anyone who liked could help himself to the fruit. But as Perikles did not possess the means of indulging in public expenditure of this kind, on the advice of Damonides of Œa (who had the reputation of being the prompter of Perikles’ wars, for which reason also they ostracised him later), since his private property did not allow him to provide subsistence for the populace, he instituted pay for the jurors. And to these causes some assign the deterioration in the conduct of affairs, as the appointments to office were designedly made more and more by haphazard instead of by merit. And bribery in the law courts also began to be practised after this, Anytus being the first to show how to do it after his command at Pylos; for when he was put upon his trial for losing it, he bribed the court and was acquitted.

  CHAP. XXVIII.

  His successors; Nikias, Kleon, Thucydides, Theramenes.

  So long then as Perikles was at the head of the people, the government went on better, but on his death it became much worse. For then, for the first time, the people took for its leader a man who was not held in respect by such as entertained moderate views; whereas in former times it had always, without exception, been led by men of character. For it began with Solon, who was the first to come forward as the leader of the people; and next Peisistratus, who belonged to the nobles and upper class; and after the overthrow of the tyranny came Kleisthenes, who was of the house of the Alkmæonidæ, and had no party-leader in opposition to him after the banishment of Isagoras and his faction. After this Xanthippus was at the head of the people, while Miltiades represented the upper classes. Next came Themistokles and Aristides; after them Ephialtes was at the head of the democratic party, and Kimon, the son of Miltiades, at the head of the wealthy classes. Then Perikles represented the democratic party, and Thucydides, who was a connection by marriage of Kimon, the other side. On the death of Perikles, Nikias took the lead of the nobles, he who met his end in Sicily; and of the democratic party, Kleon, the son of Kleænetus. He has the reputation of having, more than any other man, led the people astray by his impetuosity, and was the first to raise his voice to a shriek from the rostra and indulge in abusive language, and to harangue with his apron on, while everybody else respected the ordinary decencies of public speaking. After them Theramenes, the son of Hagnon, led the other side, while at the head of the people was Kleophon, the lyre-maker, who first introduced the payment of the two obols. For some time he distributed it, but afterwards Kallikrates, the Pæanian, put a stop to it, having first promised that he would add another obol to the two obols. Later on they were both condemned to death; for it is the custom of the masses, when they discover that they have been grossly deceived, to hate those who have led them on to do anything that is not right. And from Kleophon onward the leadership of the people successively passed without interruption to such men as were the most willing to act boldly and gratify the populace, looking only to the immediate present. For of those who conducted the government at Athens, and succeeded to the old rulers, Nikias and Thucydides and Theramenes appear to have approved themselves the best. In the case of Nikias and Thucydides almost all agree that they showed themselves to be not only good and honourable men, but also fit to govern, and that they administered the state in every respect in conformity with the national traditions. With regard to Theramenes, however, as disturbances in the forms of government occurred in his time, opinions differ. Still, he seems to such as do not express a mere off-hand opinion, not to have overthrown all these forms, as his accusers charge him with doing, but to have carried on all of them so long as they did not contravene the laws; thus acting like a man who was able to live under any form of government, which is indeed the duty of a good citizen, but who would not be a party to any that was contrary to the law, and so he became an object of hatred.

  CHAP. XXIX.

  The four hundred; the proposals of Pythodorus.

  So long, then, as successes in the war were evenly balanced, they preserved the democracy. But after the reverse in Sicily, when the Lacedæmonians became very powerful by their alliance with the king of Persia, they were compelled to change the democracy and establish the government of the four hundred, on the proposal of Melobius before the decree and Pythodorus moving . . . the masses being influenced, beyond all other considerations, by the idea that the king would gladly take part with them in the war if they made the government oligarchical. Now, the decree of Pythodorus was as follows: that the people should choose, in conjunction with the standing committee of ten, twenty others from such as were above forty years of age, and that they, after swearing solemnly to pass such measures as they might think best for the state, should so legislate for its safety; and that it should be lawful for anyone else who wished to bring forward any bill, that so, out of all, they might choose what was best. And Kleitophon spoke to the same effect as Pythodorus, but moved further that those who were elected should examine the long-established laws which Kleisthenes passed when he established the democracy, that by listening to them also they might decide on what was best, for they argued that Kleisthenes’ constitution was not democratic, but on the same lines as that of Solon. After their election they first moved that it should be compulsory on the presidents of the Council to put to the vote all proposals about the safety of the state; then they did away with indictments for proposing unconstitutional measures, and in cases not provided for by law, and legal challenges, so that any Athenian who wished might assist in the deliberations about the matters before them. They proposed, further, that if anyone, on account of these proceedings, should fine or summons anyone, or bring a case into court, an information should be laid against him, and he should be brought before the generals, and the generals should hand him over to the Eleven to be punished with death. After this they drew up the constitution as follows: that it should not be lawful to expend the incoming moneys for any other purpose than the war, and that all offices should be held without pay so long as the war might last, with the exception of the nine archons and the presidents of the Council for the time being, but that these should receive three obols a day each. They proposed, further, to vest all the rest of the administration in such of the Athenians as were best able both in person and means to perform the public services, to the number of not less than five thousand, so long as the war might last; that they should have the power also of making treaties with whomever they liked; and that the committee should choose ten men from each tribe over forty years of age to enrol the five thousand, after having taken an oath on perfect sacrifices.

  CHAP. XXX.

  The constitution as proposed for the future.

  Those who were appointed, then, drew up these measures. And after their ratification the five thousand chose a hundred out of their own number to make a public record of the form of government. So this body drew up and published the following record. Such as were over thirty years of age were to be members of the Council for a year, without pay; and from them were to be appointed the generals and the nine archons and the sacred recorder, and the infantry and cavalry commanders, and the chiefs of the tribes, the commandants of the forts, the treasurers of the sacred funds of Athena and all other gods to the number of ten, the Hellenotamiæ,* and the treasurers of all other sacred funds to the number of twenty, who were to control the managers of sacred rites and superintendents, each ten in number; and they were to choose all the above out of selected candidates, who at the expiration of their term should select successors from the then members of the Council, but all the other officers were to be appointed by lot, and not from the Council; and such of the Hellenotamiæ as might be managing the funds were not to take part in the Council. Further, that they should constitute four councils from the aforesaid age for the future, and of these the division to whose lot it fell should act as Council, and it should appoint also the rest to act according to each lot. That the hundred (who were drawing up the constitution) should apportion both themselves and the others into four divisions, as fairly as possible, and appoint them in turn by lot, and they should form the Council for a year. That they should recommend such measures as appeared likely to them to be the best in regard to the public money, with a view to its safe-keeping and expenditure on what was necessary, and about everything else as best they could; further, if they should wish to take counsel on any matter in a larger body than their own, each of them should call in to his assistance any assessor he liked from such as were of the same age. That they should make the sittings of the Council once every five days, unless they required more. That the Council should appoint by lot the nine archons, but that they should select by vote five who had been appointed by lot out of the Council, and out of them one should be appointed by lot every day to put the question. That the before-mentioned five should appoint by lot those who wished to present themselves before the Council, first regarding sacred matters, next for the heralds, thirdly for embassage, and fourthly about all other matters. That the generals should have the management of matters connected with the war department, whenever it might be necessary to make any proposal without casting lots. Lastly, that anyone who failed to be present at the appointed hour in the chamber of the Council when it was sitting, should pay a fine of a drachma for each day, unless he had obtained leave of absence from the Council.

  CHAP. XXXI.

  The constitution as proposed for the immediate present.

  Such was the constitution they drew up to serve for the future; but for the immediate present its provisions were as follows: That the Council should consist of four hundred as instituted by their fathers, forty from each tribe, from such candidates as the tribesmen might select above thirty years of age. That they should appoint the officers of state, draw up the form of oath to be taken, and do whatever they judged expedient concerning the laws and audits of accounts and everything else. That they should govern by the established laws regarding matters of state, and should not have the right of altering them or passing different ones. For the present they should make choice of the generals out of the whole body of the five thousand, and the Council, after its appointment, should hold a review under arms, and should choose ten men and a secretary for them; these on their election were to hold office for the coming year with full powers, and, as occasion might require, concert measures in common with the Council. That they should choose one commander of cavalry and ten chiefs of tribes;* but for the future the Council was to make choice of them in conformity with the written law. In respect of all other offices, except the Council and the generals, it should not be lawful for them or anyone else to hold the same office more than once. And for the remainder of the time the four hundred should be distributed into the four lots . . . .

  CHAP. XXXII.

  The government of the four hundred.

  So the hundred who were chosen by the five hundred drew up this constitution. When its provisions, on the motion of Aristomachus, had been ratified by the masses, the Council was dissolved in the archonship of Kallias before it had completed its term, on the 14th of the month Thargelion,* and the four hundred entered on office on the 21st of Thargelion, while the Council elected by lot ought to have entered on office on the 14th of Skirophorion. The oligarchy then was established in this way in the archonship of Kallias, about a hundred years after the expulsion of the tyrants, its establishment being mainly due to Peisander, Antiphon and Theramenes, men of good antecedents, and with a character for intelligence and prudence. On the introduction of this form of government the five thousand were only nominally appointed, but the four hundred, in conjunction with the ten who were invested with full powers, entering the council-chamber, assumed the management of affairs. Sending an embassy to the Lacedæmonians, they proposed putting an end to the war on the terms that each side should retain what they held, but withdrew from further negotiation when the Lacedæmonians refused to listen to any proposal which did not include the surrender of their maritime supremacy.

  CHAP. XXXIII.

  It lasted four months, and was good.

  The government of the four hundred lasted about four months, and of this body Mnasilochus was archon for the space of two months during the archonship of Theopompus,* who held office the remaining two months. But after the defeat in the sea-fight at Eretria, and the revolt of the whole of Eubœa except Oreus, being more incensed at this calamity than at any that had ever hitherto befallen them (for Eubœa was of greater advantage to them than Attica), the Athenians put down the four hundred, and gave the management of affairs to the five thousand under arms (referred to above), after passing a vote that anyone who received pay should be ineligible for offices of state. The overthrow of the four hundred was mainly due to Aristokrates and Theramenes, who did not approve of their doings, for they managed everything themselves, without ever referring to the five thousand. But the administration seems to have been good at this time, considering that a war was being carried on, and that the form of government was a military one.

  CHAP. XXXIV.

  Arginusæ Ægospotami Lysander and establishment of the oligarchy.

  However, the people quickly stripped them of their power; for in the seventh year from the overthrow of the four hundred, in the archonship of Kallias of Angele, after the sea-fight at Arginusæ, it happened, in the first place, that the ten victorious generals of the sea-fight were all condemned by one vote, though some of them had not even taken part in the battle, and others were themselves saved on another vessel, for the people had been grossly deluded by those who had worked upon its angry mood. And, secondly, when the Lacedæmonians wished to retire from Dekelea and return home and conclude peace on the terms that each side should retain what they held, some were anxious for it, but the masses would not listen to the proposal, grossly deluded as they were by Kleophon, who prevented peace from being made. He came to the assembly drunk and with his breastplate on, declaring that he would not allow it unless the Lacedæmonians gave up all the cities. And when things did not prosper with them, no long time after they discovered their mistake; for in the following year, in the archonship of Alexias, befell the disastrous seafight at Ægospotami, the result of which was that Lysander made himself master of the government, and established the thirty in the following manner. When they had made peace on the condition that they should live under the form of government which they had inherited from their fathers, on the one hand the popular side was trying to preserve the democracy; while on the other, of the upper classes such as belonged to the political clubs, and the exiles who had returned after the peace, were desirous of an oligarchy, and those who were not members of any club, but otherwise had the character of being inferior to none of their fellow-citizens, were seeking for the form of government inherited from their fathers. Amongst this number were Archinus, Anytus, Kleitophon, Phormisios, and several others, and at the head of them Theramenes was conspicuous. When Lysander attached himself to the oligarchs, the people were terror-stricken and compelled to vote for the oligarchy. Drakontides of Aphidnæ proposed the vote.

  CHAP. XXXV.

  The thirty and their government.

  So the thirty were established in this way in the archonship of Pythodorus. Being now masters of the state, they neglected all the other provisions regarding the government, and appointed only the five hundred members of the Council, and the other magistrates from selected candidates out of the thousand; and taking to themselves ten governors of Peiræus, and eleven guards of the prison, and three hundred attendants furnished with scourges, they kept the government in their own hands. At first they behaved with moderation to their fellow-citizens, and affected to administer the government as inherited from their fathers. They annulled in the Areopagus the laws of Ephialtes and Archestratus regarding the Areopagitæ, and such of Solon’s laws as were of doubtful interpretation, and put down the supreme authority vested in the jurors, as if they were going to restore the constitution, and remove all doubts in its interpretation. For example, in the matter of a man’s giving his own property to whom he likes, they gave him full authority once for all; and they removed such difficulties as might arise, except on the grounds of mental aberration, old age, or undue female influence, so that no door might be left open to common informers; in all other cases they proceeded in like manner and with the same object. At first then such was their line of action, and they made away with the common informers and such as associated themselves with the people to do its pleasure in opposition to its true interests, and were mischievous and bad. And men rejoiced at these doings, thinking that they were actuated by the best motives. But when they had got a firmer grip of power, not a single individual did they spare, but killed alike such as were distinguished for their wealth, birth, or rank, getting rid in this underhand way of those whom they were afraid of, and whose property, at the same time, they wished to plunder. By such means they had succeeded within a short period in making away with not less than fifteen hundred persons.

  CHAP. XXXVI.

  Protests of Theramenes.

  When the state was drifting in this way, Theramenes, indignant at their proceedings, exhorted them to put a stop to such outrages and give a share of the administration to the best men. They at first resisted, but when reports spread among the people, who were for the most part well disposed to Theramenes, then, fearing that he might constitute himself the champion of the people and put an end to their power, they drew up a list of three thousand citizens, declaring that they would give them a share in the government. Theramenes again found fault with this arrangement, on the following grounds: first, that although they professed a desire to give a share of their power to respectable citizens, they proposed to do so with three thousand only, just as if worth were limited to that number; secondly, that they were acting in a way which was in the highest degree inconsistent, by establishing a government which was a government of force and yet inferior in power to the governed. But they made light of these objections, and for a long time held back the list of the three thousand, keeping their names a secret; and when they did think good to publish them, they cancelled some on the list and substituted others who had not been originally included.

  CHAP. XXXVII.

  Theramenes put to death, and the Lacedæmonans call ed in.

  When winter had now set in, and Thrasybulus and the exiles had seized Phyle, the thirty, having fared badly with the army which they had led out against them, determined to strip everybody else of their arms and destroy Theramenes after the following manner: They brought forward two measures in the Council and ordered it to pass them; one was to invest the thirty with full powers to put to death any citizen whose name was not on the list of the three thousand; the other to deprive of their political rights all who had taken part in the destruction of the fort in Eetionæa, or had in any way acted in opposition to the four hundred, or the founders of the former oligarchy. Now the fact was that Theramenes had had a share in both, with the consequence that when these proposals had been passed he was put in the position of an outlaw, and the thirty had the power of putting him to death. So, after making away with Theramenes, they stripped every one of his arms except the three thousand, and in every way indulged freely in cruelty and evil-doing. Sending ambassadors to Lacedæmon, they brought accusations against Theramenes, and asked for help, in compliance with which the Lacedæmonians despatched Kallibius as governor (Harmost), with about seven hundred men, who on their arrival garrisoned the Acropolis.

  CHAP. XXXVIII.

  End of the thirty, and reconciliation of parties.

  After this, when the exiles from Phyle had seized Munychia and been victorious in an engagement over the force that had come to its help with the thirty, the citizens, retiring after the attempt, and assembling on the morrow in the market-place, put down the thirty, and appointed ten of the citizens, with full powers, to bring the war to an end. Now they, after taking over the government, did not enter into the negotiations for which they had been appointed, but sent an embassy to Lacedæmon, asking for help and borrowing money. When those who had a voice in the government were displeased at this, fearing that they might be deposed from power, and wishing to strike terror into the rest—as, indeed, they did—they seized and put to death . . . a man second to none of the citizens, and, with the help of Kallibius and his Peloponnesians, and besides them some of the knights, got a firm hold of the government. Now some of the knights were more anxious than any of their fellow-citizens that the exiles at Phyle should not return. When, however, the forces which held the Peiræus and Munychia, to which all the popular party had withdrawn, were getting the better in the war, then they put down the ten who were first appointed and chose ten others of the highest character, during whose government was accomplished both the reconciliation and the return of the popular party with their zealous co-operation. Notably at their head stood Rhinon the Pæanian, and Phaÿllus, the son of Acherdes; they indeed, both before the arrival of Pausanias, were in constant negotiation with the party at Peiræus, and after his arrival actively assisted him in bringing about their return. For the peace was concluded as well as the reconciliation by Pausanias, king of the Lacedæmonians, in conjunction with the ten mediators, who afterwards arrived from Lacedæmon, and were sent at his urgent request. And Rhinon and his party found favour from their goodwill towards the popular party, and although they assumed charge under an oligarchy, they handed over the scrutiny of accounts to the democracy, and no one brought any charge against them, either of those who had remained in the city or come back from Peiræus; on the contrary, in recognition of their services Rhinon was immediately appointed general.

  CHAP. XXXIX.

  Terms of the reconciliation.

  Now, the reconciliation was effected in the archonship of Eukleides on the following terms: Such Athenians as had remained in the city and wished to leave it might live at Eleusis without forfeiting their rights, and with full authority and powers in all their affairs and the enjoyment of their property. The temple should be common to both, and under the charge of the heralds and Eumolpidæ in conformity with the ancient customs. It should not be lawful for such as were at Eleusis to go to the city, nor for those in the city to go to Eleusis, except for the mysteries. They should contribute from their incomes to the alliance just like the other Athenians. And if any of these who went away took a house at Eleusis, they should get the assent of the owner; and if they failed to agree about terms, they should choose three appraisers on either side, and he should take the price which they fixed. Any Eleusinians they liked might live with them. The registry for those who wanted to live away should be as follows: for such as were at home from the day they took the oath, a space of seven days and twenty days for the departure, and for those who were away after they had come back again, the same conditions. It should not be lawful for anyone living at Eleusis to hold any office in the city before he was registered again as living in the city. Trials for murder should be according to the ancient customs; if anyone killed another with his own hand he should pay the penalty, after making his offering. The act of amnesty should be binding on everyone, except as against the thirty and the ten and the Eleven and the late magistrates of Peiræus, and that not even these should be excluded if they submitted their accounts. The magistrates of Peiræus should render accounts of matters done in Peiræus, and the city magistrates in matters concerned with rateable valuations. When affairs were arranged in this way, such as wished should live away. Lastly, each side should repay separately the money they had borrowed for the war.

  CHAP. XL.

  Its conclusion; action of Archinus.

  The reconciliation being concluded on these terms, all who had sided with the thirty got alarmed, and many who intended to leave put off their registry to the last days, as everybody does in such cases. Looking at the largeness of their number, and wishing to stop them, Archinus took away the remaining days of registry, so that many were compelled to remain, though against their will, till they regained confidence. In so doing Archinus seems to have acted like a wise statesman, as well as on a later occasion when he denounced as unlawful the decree of Thrasybulus, by which he was for giving political rights to all those who had returned together from Peiræus, since some of them were undoubtedly slaves. In a third instance also he showed his wisdom, when he brought before the Council the first of the restored exiles who had violated the act of amnesty and secured his summary execution, arguing that they had now an opportunity of showing if they intended to maintain the democracy and abide by their oaths, for that if they let this man go they would give encouragement to the rest, but if they put him to death they would make him an example to all. Now, this was just what did come to pass, for on his being put to death nobody ever afterwards violated the amnesty. At the same time they seem in all that they did to have treated their late calamities in the most excellent and statesmanlike way, both individually and as members of the community. For not only did they wholly forego the memory of past wrongs, but they repaid in common to the Lacedæmonians the money which the thirty had got for the war, although their agreement provided that each side, the city and Peiræus, should pay separately. They considered such action to be the startingpoint of unity, whereas in every other state a victorious democracy not only does not contribute out of its own pockets more than it is obliged, but even makes a new distribution of the land. Finally, a reconciliation was effected with such as were living at Eleusis, in the third year after their leaving, in the archonship of Xenænetus.

  CHAP. XLI.

  Recapitulation of the preceding changes; the sovereign power of the people.

  This was the course of events at the later period, but at that time the people, having made itself master of the state, established the form of government as it now exists, in the archonship of Pythodorus. And it appears that the people rightly assumed the supreme authority by reason of its having accomplished unaided the return of the exiles. This change was the eleventh in order. First came the constitution of those who united them into one people at the beginning, viz., Ion and his followers; for it was then for the first time that they were distributed as one people into the four tribes, and that the tribe-kings were appointed. The next and first remarkable form of government after this was that which took shape in the time of Theseus, varying but slightly from the kingly form. After this Draco’s, in which the laws also were first recorded in writing. Thirdly, Solon’s, after the civil discords, from which dates the beginning of the democracy. Fourthly, the tyranny of Peisistratus. Fifthly, after the overthrow of the tyrants, the constitution of Kleisthenes, more democratic than Solon’s. The sixth was after the Persian war, when the council of Areopagus presided over the state. Seventh, and following the preceding, was that which Aristides sketched out, and Ephialtes completed, by putting down the Areopagitic council; it was under this constitution that the state, under the leadership of the demagogues, made very many mistakes by reason of its maritime supremacy. The eighth was the constitution of the four hundred, and after this, and ninth, the democracy again. The tenth was the tyranny of the thirty and that of the ten. Eleventh, that after the return of the exiles from Phyle and Peiræus, which from its establishment up to the present day has continued uninterruptedly to add further to the power of the masses. For the people itself has made itself master of everything, and administers everything according to its views by its decrees and by its control of the courts of justice, in which it is the supreme power, for even the decisions of the Council come before the people. In this, indeed, they seem to act rightly, for a few are more open to corruption both by bribes and favours than the masses. Now, at first they decided against payment to the Assembly, but when people would not attend it and the presidents had to pass many measures, to secure the presence of the masses for the confirmation of the voting, first Agyrrhius made the pay an obol, and after him Herakleides of Klazomenæ, surnamed the king, two obols, and again Agyrrhius made it three obols.

  CHAP. XLII.

  Admission to citizenship; training of the Ephebi.

  The present constitution is as follows: Political rights belong to those whose parents are citizens on both sides. When they are eighteen years old they are enrolled as members of their deme. When a candidate is proposed, the members of the deme decide by vote about him on oath; first, if they consider him to be of the proper legal age; if they decide against it, he returns to the class of children; and secondly, if he is freeborn and his birth according to the laws. Then, if they decide that he is not freeborn, the candidate appeals to the court of justice, and the members of the deme choose of their number five plaintiffs, and if it is decided that he is not rightly enrolled, the state sells him; but if he gains the day, it is compulsory on the deme to enrol him as a member. After this the Council examines the candidates who have been enrolled, and if any is found to be less than eighteen years old, it fines the members of the deme who enrolled him. When they have passed as Ephebi (i.e., arrived at man’s estate), their fathers assemble in their tribes, and on oath select three of their tribesmen above forty years of age, whom they consider to be most worthy and suitable to have charge of the Ephebi, and from them the people votes one of each tribe, selected as their moderator and superintendent in everything from the whole body of Athenians. And, taking charge of the Ephebi, first they make a circuit of the sacred places, then they proceed to Peiræus, and some of the Ephebi garrison Munychia, and the rest the shore. The people votes them also two gymnastic-masters and teachers, who instruct them in the use of arms, shooting, hurling, and working the catapult. It gives for maintenance to the moderators a drachma a day each, and to the Ephebi four obols each. And each moderator, taking the money of his own tribesmen, buys what is necessary for all in common (for they take their meals together by their tribes), and provides for everything else. They pass their first year in this way. The next, at a meeting of the Assembly in the theatre, they display before the people their drill-practice, and receiving a spear and shield from the state, patrol the country and live in garrisons. They act as guards for their two years, wearing cloaks, and have immunity from all public burdens. They are not allowed either to bring or defend an action, to prevent their being connected in any way with business, except in cases of inheritance and of an only daughter and heiress, or where a question of family priesthood arises. On the expiry of the two years they at once rank with the rest. Such, then, are the regulations regarding the enrolment of citizens and the Ephebi.

  CHAP. XLIII.

  Election to offices, by lot or vote.

  They appoint by lot to all the offices belonging to the administration which comes round in turn, except the military treasurer, and those who have charge of the funds for seats in the theatre and the superintendent of the springs. For these they vote, and those who are appointed hold office from Panathenæa to Panathenæa. They vote also all the offices of the war department. And the Council is elected by lot to the number of five hundred, fifty from each tribe. And each of the tribes presides in turn as lot may assign, the first four thirty-six days each, and the six last thirty-five days each; for they reckon the year by the moon. The presidents first dine together in the Rotunda, at the expense of the state, then they assemble the Council and the people; the Council every day, unless there is a holiday, and the people four times during each presidency. They give public notice of all matters to be transacted by the Council, and what is to be taken each day, and what is not their business. They give public notice also of the meetings of the Assembly, one an ordinary one to confirm by vote magistrates if they are thought to discharge their duties efficiently, and to arrange about food and the protection of the country, and for such as want to prefer indictments to bring in such bills on this day, and to read out the registers of confiscations as well as the applications to the archon to be put in possession in cases of inheritance and of only daughters and heiresses, so that everybody may know if a case has gone by default. At the sixth presidency, in addition to what has just been stated, the opportunity is given of voting in cases of ostracism to confirm or otherwise, and of proceeding with the public prosecutions of common informers, both Athenians and resident-aliens up to three of each, where a promise has been made to the people and not performed. Another Assembly is assigned for supplications, so that anyone who wants may propose a supplication for anything he likes, either public or private, and discuss it with the people. The other two Assemblies attend to all other matters, and the laws ordain that at these meetings proposals should be considered to the number of three respectively regarding things sacred (or sacred moneys), heralds and embassies, and things profane (or public moneys). They sometimes deliberate even without any previous voting. The heralds and ambassadors come first before the presidents, and the bearers of letters deliver them into their hands.

  CHAP. XLIV.

  The Council continued.

  Now, there is one chief president, elected by lot; he holds office a day and a night, and it is not lawful for the same man to be appointed for a longer time, or to be appointed twice. He keeps the keys of the temples, in which are deposited the public moneys and records, as well as the state seal, and is obliged to remain in the Rotunda, as is also the third part of the presidents which he may order to do so. When the presidents summon the Council or people, he appoints by lot the nine chairmen (proedri), one from each tribe, except the tribe that presides, and from them again one as chief president, and he passes over to them the order of business. On receipt of it they preserve order, propose the matters to be deliberated on, decide the votings, and arrange things generally. They have power also to break up the meeting. It is not lawful to be chief president more than once in the year, while it is lawful to be a chairman (proedrus) once in each presidency. They elect boards of ten of generals and commanders of cavalry and of the other military officers of state in the Assembly, as the people may determine; these elections are made by the presidency after the sixth, when the omens are favourable, but a preliminary ordinance must be passed about these elections also.

  CHAP. XLV.

  Deprived of the power of putting to death.

  Now the Council formerly had power to punish by fines, to imprison, and to put to death. But on one occasion, as it was conducting Lysimachus to the executioner, who was awaiting him, Eukleides of Alopeke took him out of their hands, declaring that it was not right for any citizen to be put to death without the verdict of a court of law. On a trial being held in court, Lysimachus was acquitted, and got the surname of ‘the man who escaped the cudgel.’ Then the people deprived the Council of its power of putting to death and imprisoning and punishing by fines, and carried a law that in cases where the Council passed sentences or punished, the Thesmothetæ should bring the sentences and punishments before the court of justice, and that the vote of the jurors should be final. Now, the Council can try most of the officers of state, particularly such as have the management of money; but their decision is not final, and there is an appeal to the court of justice. Private individuals also have the right of indicting any officers of state they like for violating the laws, while such as are so indicted have also an appeal to the court of justice, if the Council finds them guilty. It examines also the members who are to compose the Council for the following year, and the nine archons. Formerly it had the power of rejection, but now in such cases there is an appeal to the court of justice. In the above matters then the Council does not possess final authority. Further, it submits preliminary ordinances to the people, and it is not lawful for the people to pass any measure which has not been thus submitted, or of which the presidents have not previously given public notice. For it is on these very grounds that the successful mover of a bill makes himself liable to an indictment for proposing unconstitutional measures.

  CHAP. XLVI.

  The Council continued.

  It superintends also the triremes, their equipment and their docks, and has new ships built, triremes or quadriremes, whichever the people votes, and equipment for them and docks. But the people votes designers for the vessels. And if they fail to hand over these quite complete to the new Council, they cannot get the present, for they get it during the following Council. It builds the triremes, choosing ten constructors out of the whole body. It examines also all public buildings, and if it decides that any wrong has been committed, it makes a presentment to the people against the offender, and if it finds him guilty, hands him over to a court of justice.

  CHAP. XLVII.

  The treasurers of Athena; the government-sellers.

  It assists also in the management of all the remaining offices for the most part. For first there are the treasurers (of the temple) of Athena, ten in number, and appointed by lot, one from each tribe, from the Pentakosiomedimni according to Solon’s law—for the law is still in force—and chief of them is he on whom the lot falls, however poor he may be. And they take over the image of Athena, and the victories, and all her other decorations, and the funds, in the presence of the Council. Then there are the government-sellers, ten in number, one being appointed by lot from each tribe. These farm out all the contracts and sell the productions of the mines, and, in conjunction with the military treasurer, and the presidents of funds for the payment of seats at the theatre, in the presence of the Council, ratify the farming of the taxes to him to whom the Council votes it; and they sell, in the presence of the Council, all the workable metals which are sold, both what have been sold for three years and what have been contracted for . . . and the property of those who have been banished by the Areopagus, and the archons confirm these transactions. They put up a public register on white tablets of the taxes that have been farmed out for a year . . . they pass over to the Council. They put up a public notice separately, in ten lists, of such as in each presidency have to make payments, and separately of such as have to do so at the end of the year, making a list for every payment, and separately of those in the ninth presidency. They give similar notice of the lands and houses which have been let and sold in the court of justice, for they also sell these . . . the sale price of houses must be paid for in five years, of land in ten. And they pay for these in the ninth presidency . . . and the king ratifies the lettings . . . and the letting of these also is for ten years, payment being made in the ninth presidency; for these reasons the largest amounts of money are collected in this presidency. Now the tablets on which the payments are recorded are brought to the Council, and the public notary keeps them. When payment is made he hands over to the receivers these very . . . But the rest is stored away separately. . . .

  CHAP. XLVIII.

  The receivers; auditors.

  There are ten receivers appointed by lot by tribes. When they have received the lists, they cancel the moneys as they are paid in in the presence of the Council in the council-chamber, and again return the lists to the public notary. If anyone fails in payment the fact is then recorded, and the reason why; and he must pay the deficit or go to prison, and the Council has authority by law both to compel payment and to commit to prison. On the first day they receive the moneys and apportion them to the offices, and on the following they bring forward the apportionment, after recording it on a tablet, and draw up the list in the council-chamber, and . . . in the Council, if anyone, be he either magistrate or private individual, is known to have acted unfairly in the apportionment; and they put the question of his guilt to the vote. Further, the members of the Council appoint by lot from their own body tellers to the number of ten to account to the magistrates in each presidency. They appoint by lot also auditors, one from each tribe, and two assessors to each auditor, who are obliged to sit in the markets, which are called after those who have given their names to each tribe; and if anyone wishes at his own suit to prefer an audit against any of those who have given in their accounts within five days of their being given in, he writes on a white tablet his name and the name of the defendant, and the offences with which he charges him, and taking the valuation he decides upon, hands it over to the auditor. The auditor receives it, and if, after a hearing, he convicts, he hands over private cases to the jurors for the demes, which represent the particular tribe, while public cases he refers to the Thesmothetæ. The Thesmothetæ, if they entertain the suit, in their turn bring the audit before the court of justice, and the decision of the jurors is final.

  CHAP. XLIX.

  The Council holds a muster of the Knights, etc.

  Further, the Council holds a muster of the horses, and if anyone having the means is found to keep his horse badly, it fines him in its keep; and to such as are unable to keep one, or unwilling to remain Knights, they bring up a wheel . . . . and he who is so treated is dishonoured. It holds also a muster of the cavalry scouts, to ascertain who appear to be fitted for such service, and the man against whom there is a show of hands is dismounted. It holds a muster also of the unmounted scouts, and if the show of hands is unfavourable, the man is no longer retained in the service. The registrars, whom the people appoints to the number of ten, make a list of the Knights. These pass over their names to the commanders of cavalry and the chiefs of the tribes, who take over the list and bring it to the Council. Then opening the tablet, in which the names of the Knights are signed and sealed, they cancel such of those as have been previously enrolled and solemnly swear that they are unable on physical grounds to serve as Knights; and they summon those who have been entered on the register, and whoever swears solemnly that he is unable to serve either on physical grounds or by reason of his means, they let him go; but the members of the Council decide by vote, in the case of any who does not so swear, whether he is fit to serve or not. If they decide that he is, they put him on the register, and if not, they let him also go. At one time the Council used to decide also about the plans for public buildings and the state-robe (peplos) of Athena, but now this is done by the court of justice on whom the lot falls; for the Council was thought to show favour in its decisions. It assists also in superintending the making of the victories and prizes for the Panathenæa in conjunction with the military treasurer. The Council examines also the disabled; for there is a law ordering it to examine such as are worth less than three minæ, and are physically so maimed as to be incapable of doing any work, and to give them from the public purse maintenance of two obols a day each; and a dispenser is appointed for them by lot. Further, it takes a part in the management of all the remaining offices, to speak generally. Such then are the various functions of the Council’s administration.

  CHAP. L

  Surveyors of temples; city magistrates.

  Ten officers are appointed by lot to keep the temples in repair, and they expend the thirty minæ assigned by the receivers in repairing such as most require it. Ten city magistrates are similarly appointed, of whom five exercise their office in Peiræus and five in the city. Their duties are to see that the female flute-players and harpists and lute-players are not hired at more than two drachmæ, and if there is competition in the case of any of these employments they cast lots, and let it out to him on whom the lot falls. They make provision also against any dung-collector throwing down his dung near the wall, and prevent the building of houses in the highways, and the carrying of fences over the highways, and the constructing of waterpipes above ground with an outflow on the road, and making doors to open on the street. Lastly, they remove such as die on the highways, having public officers for this purpose.

  CHAP. LI.

  Clerks of the market; inspectors of weights and measures, etc.

  Clerks of the market are also appointed by lot, five for Peiræus and five for the city. Their duty, as prescribed by law, is to see that commodities of all descriptions are sold pure and unadulterated. Appointed by lot also are the inspectors of weights and measures, five for the city and five for Peiræus; they look after measures and weights of all kinds, that sellers may use just ones. The corn-watchers appointed by lot used to be five for Peiræus and five for the city, but now there are twenty for the city and fifteen for Peiræus. They take measures to ensure, first, that the white (unprepared) corn in the market shall be offered for sale on fair terms, then that the millers shall sell their meal at prices based on the cost of the barley, and the bakers their bread at prices based on the cost of the wheat, and of the weight that they fix; for the law commands them to fix it. They appoint by lot ten superintendents of the market, and their duty is to superintend the markets, and of the corn that is imported into the corn-market to compel the merchants to bring two-thirds into the city.

  CHAP. LII.

  The Eleven; suits decided within a month.

  They appoint the Eleven also by lot to look after prisoners, and in the case of thieves and kidnappers and footpads who are committed to prison, if they confess, to punish them with death; but if they demand a trial, to bring them before the court of justice, and if they are acquitted to let them go, but if not, to put them to death at once; at the same time they have to produce before the court the inventories of the lands and houses of criminals, and to deliver over to the government-sellers what is decided to be confiscated, and to prefer the indictments; for this last is the duty of the Eleven, except that in some cases it devolves on the Thesmothetæ. They appoint by lot also five officers, one for two tribes, to receive informations, and bring into court the cases which have to be decided within a month of their commencement. These suits are heard without fees in the case of a debtor not paying, and of a person borrowing at twelve per cent. and defrauding, and of anyone in the marketplace wishing to work and borrowing from anybody on a pretext, and, further, in cases of assault, subscriptions, dealings, slaves, cattle, the fitting out of a trireme for the public service, and banking. Now they institute and adjudicate on such suits within the month, and the receivers act similarly both on behalf of and against the farmers of the taxes, having power to adjudicate in cases up to ten drachmæ, but taking all others which have to be decided within the month into court.

  CHAP. LIII.

  Judicial officers; arbitrators.

  They appoint by lot also forty, four from each tribe, before whom parties bring all other suits. Their number was formerly thirty, and they used to administer justice by going on circuit throughout the demes, but after the oligarchy of the Thirty they were increased to forty. Cases up to ten drachmæ they have full power to decide, but such as are above this amount they pass over to the arbitrators. These take them over, and if they are unable to effect a settlement, state their opinions, and if both sides are satisfied with their recommendations and abide by them, the suit is at an end. But if one of the parties appeals to the court, they put the evidence and challenges and laws into vases, using a separate vase both for the plaintiff and the defendant, and signing and sealing them, with the judgment of the arbitrator recorded on a tablet attached, they hand them over to the adjudicators of the tribe to which the defendant belongs. These adjudicators take them over and bring them into the court, which is composed of two hundred and one for amounts within a thousand drachmæ, and of four hundred and one for amounts above a thousand. They are not allowed to make use of any laws or challenges or evidence other than what is received from the arbitrator and contained in the vases. Arbitrators must be sixty years of age; and this is evident from the archons and Eponymi. For there are ten Eponymi* of the tribes and forty-two of the ages, and the Ephebi in former days at the time of their enrolment had their names registered on white tablets, and the name of the archon in whose time they were enrolled was added to the register as well as that of the Eponymus who had acted as arbitrator in the previous year; but now their names are inscribed on a brass pillar, and the pillar stands before the council-chamber near the statues of the ten Eponymi of the tribes. And the forty, taking the last one of the Eponymi, assign the arbitrations to them, and by lot in what cases each shall act. For the law ordains forfeiture of political rights in the case of anyone of the proper age failing to act as arbitrator, unless he happens to be filling any other office, or to be abroad; in such cases only is exemption granted. Anyone who has been wronged by an arbitrator is free to indict him before the jurors, but if their verdict goes against him he loses his political rights, as the laws ordain; but even then there is the right of appeal. They make use also of the names of the Eponymi with regard to military expeditions, and when they send out a body of young men, they publicly notify from and up to what archon and Eponymus they are to serve.

  CHAP. LIV.

  Surveyors of roads; auditors; secretaries.

  They appoint also by lot the following officers: Five surveyors of roads, who have public workmen assigned to them, and whose duty it is to keep the roads in repair; and ten auditors with ten advocates to assist them. To these last all office-holders are bound to submit their accounts, for they alone check the accounts of such as are responsible, and lay their audits before the court. If they convict anyone of theft, the jurors find him guilty of theft, and he is fined ten times the amount of what has been detected; and if they convict anyone of taking bribes, and the jurors find him guilty, they condemn him in the amount of the bribes, and in addition he has to pay a fine of ten times that amount; and if they find him guilty of a wrong they condemn him in the amount of the wrong, and he is fined this amount simply if it is paid before the ninth presidency: if not, it is doubled; but the tenfold fine is not doubled. They appoint also by lot an officer who is called the secretary for the presidency, and is at the head of the secretaries, and keeps the decrees that are passed, and makes minutes of all proceedings, and sits by the Council. Now, in former times he was elected by vote, and men of the highest distinction and character used to be appointed to the office; for his name is inscribed on pillars, attached to treaties of alliance and friendship with foreigners, and public measures (or, citizenships); but now the election is made by lot. They appoint by lot also a second secretary for the laws, who sits by the Council, and he also makes a copy of all of them. The people also by vote elects a secretary to read out documents to itself and the Council, and his authority does not extend further. It appoints also by lot ten superintendents of sacred rites, who have the designation of ‘for the sacrifices,’ and perform the sacrifices appointed by oracle, and when there is occasion to obtain good omens, obtain them in conjunction with the diviners. It appoints by lot also ten others, who are designated by the year, and perform certain sacrifices; they superintend all the festivals celebrated at intervals of five years, with the single exception of the Panathenæa, as follows: one at Delos (where it is celebrated also every seven years), the second the Brauronia, the third the Heraklea, and the fourth the Panathenæa at Eleusis; and none of them occurs in the same year. . . . . They appoint by lot also a governor for Salamis and a demarch for Peiræus, who hold the Dionysia in both places and appoint Choregi (to defray the expenses of bringing out a chorus).

  CHAP. LV.

  The archons; how they are appointed.

  These then are the officers appointed by lot, and their powers in their several departments are as has been just described. Now as to those who have the title of the nine archons, an account has been already given of how they were appointed at first. But now they appoint by lot six Thesmothetæ and a secretary for them, and further, an archon and king and commander-in-chief severally from each tribe. And they are first examined in the Council by the five hundred, except the secretary, who is examined only in the court just like all other officers of state (for all who are appointed either by lot or vote hold office only after examination), but the nine archons are examined before the Council and again in court. In former days no one could hold office if he were rejected by the Council, but now there is appeal to the court, and with it rests the decision regarding the examination. The questions asked in the examination are as follows: First, who is your father, and of what deme? and who your father’s father, and who your mother, and who your mother’s father, and of what deme? and, after this, if Apollo is his family and Zeus his household god, and where their temples are; then, if they have tombs, and where they are; and, last, if he treats his parents well, and pays his taxes, and has duly performed his military service. Having asked these questions, the examiner says, ‘Call your witnesses to these facts.’ When the witnesses are produced he asks further, ‘Has anyone any accusation to bring against this man?’ and if no one comes forward, after giving opportunity for accusation and defence, he proposes the show of hands in the Council and in the court the vote. And if no one wants to accuse, he at once gives his vote. Formerly one only put his pebble into the urn, but now all must do so. Further, the right exists of passing a vote about them with the object, if any bad man gets his accusers out of the way, of putting it in the power of the jurors to reject him. When the examination has been concluded in this way, they walk up to the stone underneath which are the treasuries, and on which the arbitrators take their oath and declare their awards, and witnesses solemnly swear to their evidence. Mounting this stone, they swear that they will discharge the duties of their office faithfully and according to the laws, and that they will not take bribes in connection with their office, and if they should they will make a votive offering of a gold statue. After this oath they walk to the Acropolis, and take it again in the same terms there, and after this they enter upon their office.

  CHAP. LVI.

  The archon (Eponymus); his duties.

  The archon and king and commander-in-chief take assessors, two each, whomever they like; these are examined in the court before they can act, and after appointment are responsible for their official conduct. The archon, as soon as ever he enters on office, first makes proclamation that, whatever a man possessed before he entered on office, that he shall possess and be master of to the end of his term of office. Then he provides Choregi for the tragic poets, the three richest men of all the Athenians. Formerly he used also to provide five for the comic poets, but for them the tribes now contribute. After receiving the Choregi brought by the tribes for the Dionysia for men and boys and comic actors, and for the Thargelia for men and boys (those for the Dionysia being furnished by tribes, and for the Thargelia, one for two tribes, each of the two tribes contributing its quota for these), he makes the challenges and brings forward the excuses. . . . For the Choregus who furnishes boys must be more than forty years of age. He appoints also for Delos Choregi, and the chief priest for the vessel with thirty benches that takes the young men. And he used to superintend the processions of the festival in honour of Asklepius, when the initiated keep within doors, and of the great Dionysia, in conjunction with its superintendents, whom in former days the people used to vote to the number of ten, and they used to defray out of their own pockets the expenses of the procession; but now it appoints by lot one from each tribe, and gives a hundred minæ to the preparations for it. He superintends also the procession in the Thargelia and that in honour of Zeus the Saviour. He too manages the games of the Dionysia, as well as of the Thargelia. Leave to make public indictments and bring private actions is obtained from him, and after holding a preliminary inquiry, he brings them into court as follows: ill-treatment of the young (in which anyone can prosecute who likes, without incurring any penalty), ill-treatment of orphans (these are against their guardians), ill-treatment of an heir (these are against his guardian and those whom he lives with), damage to a house belonging to an orphan (these are also against the guardians), mental derangement (when anyone accuses another of ruining himself by reason of mental derangement), the appointment of distributers when anyone refuses to divide property that is held in common, appointment of guardians, settlement of disputed claims of guardianship, if several wish to make a man guardian of the same female ward, and settlement of disputed claims in cases of inheritances and only daughters and heiresses. He superintends also the charge of orphans and heirs, and of all such women as on the death of their husbands claim to be pregnant. He has power also to punish wrong-doers, or to bring them before the court. He lets also the houses of orphans and heirs . . . and becomes distributer and receives the mortgages . . . gives the children the food which he gets in. So he superintends all these matters.

  CHAP. LVII.

  The king archon; his duties.

  The king, in the first place, has the management of the mysteries in conjunction with the superintendents whom the people elect, two in number, out of the whole body of Athenians, one from the Eumolpidæ and one from the Heralds; and secondly of the Lenæan Dionysia . . . this procession then the king and the superintendents conduct in common; but the king arranges the games. He arranges also all the torchraces. And it is he, so to say, who manages all the ancient sacrifices. Leave to bring actions for profaneness is obtained from him, and in the case of any dispute about priesthood he awards the penalty. It is he who adjudicates all disputes about honours between families and priests. From him leave is obtained to bring the action in all cases of murder, and it is he who proclaims interdiction from customary rights. Now, there are actions both for murder and wounding. In murder of malice prepense, the case is tried in the Areopagus, and so with poisoning and arson; for the only cases that the Council tries are homicide, unintentional or intentional, if the person killed is a servant, either a resident-alien or foreigner, and the trial is then held in the Palladium. If a person admits an act of homicide, but justifies it as legal, as catching an adulterer, or in war from not knowing who he was, or when competing in a contest, they hold the trial in the Palladium. If a person has to remain in exile on a charge of murder or wounding, under circumstances in which the relatives may relent, the trial is held in the Phreatto; and he makes his defence in a boat moored off the shore, and commissioners appointed by lot conduct the trial, except in cases that come before the Areopagus: and the king introduces the suit and they try it . . . and in the open air. And the king, when he tries the case, takes off his crown. The accused for the rest of the time is not allowed to take part in religious services, and no one can bring the charge against him; then entering the temple he makes his defence; and when anyone declares who has committed the act, he obtains leave to bring an action against him. And the king and the tribe-kings try all cases concerning things without life, as well as all animals.

  CHAP. LVIII

  The commander-in-chief, polemarch

  The commander-in-chief makes sacrifices in the feast of Artemis the huntress and Enualios, and arranges the funeral games held in honour of such as have been killed in war. Leave is obtained from him to bring such private suits as may arise with the resident-aliens, those who pay alike (a favoured class of resident-aliens), and the friends of the state. It is his duty to take and divide ten parts, and apportion to each tribe the part that falls to its lot, and assign the judges of the tribe to the arbitrators. And he himself brings into court the actions against freedmen for default to their patrons, and against resident-aliens for not choosing a patron, and cases of inheritance and only daughters and heiresses for the resident-aliens, and in all matters generally the commander-in-chief acts for the resident-aliens in the same way as the archon does for the citizens.

  CHAP. LIX.

  The Thesmothetæ; their functions.

  To the Thesmothetæ belongs first the right of publicly notifying on what days the courts of law are to sit, and then of assigning them to the magistrates; for as they assign, the magistrates must use them. Further, they bring before the people all bills of indictment and condemnations by show of hands, and votes directing public prosecutions, and indictments for proposing unconstitutional measures and bad laws, and the audits of the chairmen (proedri) and chief president of the Council, and of the generals. And public indictments are brought before them in which small money deposits are made, viz., in the case of an alien for usurping civic rights, and for bribing the judges to declare him a citizen, and of having obtained acquittal in such actions by means of bribery, and of false accusation, and bribes, and false-registering, and false citation, and intention to kill, and state-debtors for getting their names cancelled before payment, and adultery. They introduce also the examinations for all offices of state, and the rejected candidates for membership in the deme, and condemnations by the Council. They introduce also private suits, concerned with trade, mines, and slaves for slandering a freeman. They assign by lot to the magistrates all their courts, both public and private. They ratify the judicial agreements with the subject cities, and bring in the suits arising from them, as well as false evidence in the Areopagus. And the nine archons, together with the secretary of the Thesmothetæ, appoint by lot all the jurors, each those of his own tribe. Such then are the duties of the nine archons.

  CHAP. LX.

  The directors of games; the sacred oil.

  They appoint also by lot ten directors of games, one for each tribe. They, after approval, hold office for four years, and manage the procession of the Panathenæa, the musical and gymnastic contests and the horse-races, and, in conjunction with the Council, have Athena’s state-robe and the vases made, and apportion to the successful competitors the oil which is made from the sacred olives. And the archon levies the tax from the owners of the grounds in which the sacred olives grow, a kotyle and a half (i.e., about three-quarters of a pint) for each stem, whereas in former times the state used to sell the produce, and if anyone dug up or broke a sacred olive-tree, the council of Areopagus used to try, and if it found him guilty, punish him with death. Since the owner of the land has contributed the oil, the law indeed has continued in force, but the trial has become a dead-letter, while the oil from the cuttings, but not from the stems, still belongs to the state. The archon then, having collected what accrues during his tenure of office, hands it over to the treasurers in the Acropolis, and is not allowed to go up to the Acropolis before he has handed over the whole of it to the treasurers. The treasurers then keep it in the Acropolis till the celebration of the Panathenæa, when they measure it out to the directors of games, and they again to the victorious competitors. Now for the victors in the musical contests the prizes are of silver and gold, in those for manliness spears, and for the gymnastic games and horse-races olive-oil.

  CHAP. LXI.

  Election by vote to all offices of war department.

  They elect by vote also to all offices, without exception, connected with the war department, the generals in former times being elected one from each tribe, but now from all. They assign them their duties by vote, appointing one to the command of the hoplites, who leads the members of his deme if they go on foreign service; one in command of the country which he protects, and who, if war breaks out in it, takes part in the war; two in command of Peiræus, the one for Munychia, the other for the shore, who have charge of Phyle and matters in the Peiræus; and one to the command of the symmoriæ (companies, consisting of sixty members each, of the twelve hundred wealthiest citizens), who makes out the list of those who have to fit out a trireme for the public service, and allows them challenges, and brings into court their cases for adjudication; the rest they commission according to circumstances. A vote is passed in each presidency as to their conduct in office; if it is adverse, the trial is held in court, and in case of conviction a proper punishment or fine is awarded; while in case of acquittal, the accused continues in office for the remainder of his term. They have the power when on service of placing under arrest anyone not conforming to discipline, and publicly proclaiming his name, and inflicting a fine; to the last however they rarely resort. They appoint also by vote ten commanders of divisions, one for each tribe, and he commands his tribesmen and appoints captains, and further two commanders of cavalry out of the whole body of citizens. These take command of the knights, five tribes being assigned to each, and are invested with the same powers as the generals possess in the case of the hoplites, while in their case also a vote is passed on their conduct. They appoint by lot also chiefs of tribes, one for the tribe, to command the knights in the same way as commanders of divisions do the hoplites. They vote also a commander of cavalry for Lemnos to superintend the knights there, and a treasurer for the sacred trireme Paralus, and another for that of Ammon.

  CHAP. LXII.

  Pay attached to offices

  Now the officers of state appointed by lot were in former times those so appointed, together with the nine archons, from the whole tribe, and the election of the officers now appointed in the Theseum was distributed among the demes; but since the demes used to sell these offices, they have elected to them also by lot from the whole tribe, except the members of the Council and the guards, which they now assign to the members of the demes. They receive pay first for all other assemblies a drachma, but for the ordinary assembly a drachma and a half; then in the courts three obols; then the Council five obols . . . . again, the nine archons receive for maintenance four obols each, and maintain besides a herald and a flute-player, while the governor of Salamis receives a drachma a day. The directors of games dine in the Prytaneum during the month of Hecatombæon,* in which the Panathenæa are celebrated, beginning on the fourth of the month. The Amphictyones who are sent to Delos receive a drachma a day during the time they are there; and the magistrates who are commissioned to Samos, Scyros, Lemnos or Imbros receive in every case money for their maintenance. It is allowable to hold military offices several times, but not a single other one, except that you may be twice a member of the Council.

  CHAP. LXIII.

  Appointment of jurors.

  The nine archons elect by lot the jurors for the courts by tribes, while the secretary to the Thesmothetæ is elected from the tenth tribe. The entrances into the courts are ten, one for each tribe; the balloting-urns twenty, two for each tribe; and the boxes a hundred, ten for each tribe; there are ten other boxes besides, in which are cast the tablets of the jurors on whom the lot falls. And two balloting - urns and staves are placed at each entrance for each juror, and tickets are put in the urn to the number of the staves, and on them are written the letters of the alphabet, beginning from the eleventh (l), corresponding in number to the courts that are to be supplied with jurors. Anyone may serve above thirty years of age, who is not a debtor to the state and has not suffered deprivation of political rights; but if anyone serves who has not the right to do so he is indicted in the court, and if found guilty, the jurors inflict upon him such punishment or penalty as he seems to deserve. If he is fined, he must remain in prison till he has paid the former debt on account of which he was indicted, and any additional fine that the court may impose. Each juror has a tablet made of boxwood, on which is inscribed his own name, with his father’s and his deme, and one of the letters of the alphabet up to k; for the jurors are distributed by tribes into ten groups, and are about equal in number for each letter. After the Thesmothetes has allotted the additional letters to be assigned to the jurors, the attendant brings and puts up on each court the letter which has been drawn.

  FINIS.

  billing and sons, printers, guildford.

  [* ]Thesmothetes. As this word means ‘law-giver,’ ‘legislator,’ it seems better, to prevent misapprehension, to retain it in its Greek form. This passage tells us why they were originally appointed; frequent references are made to them elsewhere in the book, and their duties will be found detailed in chap. lix.

  [* ]The medimnus=about 1½ bushel.

  [* ]These were of a triangular pyramidical form, written on the three sides and turned round on a pivot.

  [* ]Government-sellers. Their duties are described in chap. xlvii., and those of ‘the Eleven’ in chap. lii. The Kolakratæ in old times had the general charge of the finances.

  [* ]No doubt a return of the aristocratic government.

  [* ]Literally, at Pallenis, i.e., the temple of Pallenis Athena, Herodotus, i., 62; Pallene being a deme of Attica, where Athena had a temple.

  [* ]Families, i.e., collections of families, ‘clans,’ ‘houses.’

  [* ]Or, they had no names of their own; these are the alternative renderings, as suggested by the British Museum editor.

  [* ]Compare Herodotus, i. 165, telling how the Phocæans, on deserting their native city, sunk iron in the sea, and swore never to return till it came up again to the surface.

  [* ]Trustees of the Greeks, appointed by Athens to levy the contributions paid by the Greek states towards the Persian war.

  [* ]Especially as commanders of cavalry.

  [* ]This month corresponds to from the middle of May to the middle of June; Skirophorion, a few lines further on, is the following month.

  [* ]He being the archon who gave his name to the year (Eponymus).

  [* ]Eponymi—i.e., giving their names to the tribes and the forty-two ages, viz., from eighteen to sixty, the period of military service.

  [* ]This month extended from the middle of July to the middle of August.