Notes to the Plays
Notes to the Agamemnon
“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 ἀνέκαθεν, 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.
“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.
“... 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, 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.”
“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, ἤ τρὶς ἓξ ἤ τρεῖς κύβοι, either three sixes or three aces, all or none.”—Dr. Smith’s Antiq. Dict. voce tessera.
“Is laid a seal.”
Literally, a huge 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.
“Sceptred kings by Jove’s high grace.”
Διόθεν. “ἐκ δε Διός βασιλῆες,” 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.
“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.
“... 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
θεῶν ποδώκεις τὸυς κακὸφρονας βλάβαι.
Antig. V. 1104.
“... 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.”
“The powers whose altars know no fire.”
ἀπύρων ἱερῶν, “fireless holy things.” By “tireless” 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 tireless 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.
“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.
“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.
“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 ῦπερφιάλος κὰι ἀπηνής.”
“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.
“The fair goddess.”
ἁ καλὰ, “the beauteous one,”—Sew. An epithet which Con. was surely wrong to omit, for it is characteristic. To this Müller has called attention in his Prolegomena zu einer 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.
“I pray thee, Pæan, may she never send.”
In the original Ιήἴον παιᾶνα, a well-known epithet of Apollo, as in the opening chorus of the Œdipus Tyrannos, Ιήϊέ 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).
“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.”
“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 cohesion, 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.
“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 ἂυθ(ε)ι 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 Gefühle stolzer Kraft” (Fr.), and “allbewährteu 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 Schutz. 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.
“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.
“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 alia infestior classi statio est) and other passages adduced by But. in Peile.
“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 Sühnopfer, das jungfraüliche 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.
“... 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.
“... consecrate
His ships for Troy.”
προτέλεια ναῶν, 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.
“Where prone and spent she lies.”
παντὶ θυμῷ προνωπῆ, 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 λαβεῖν, or to the special position προνωπῆ. Sewell’s remark that “there is far more intensity of thought in applying παντὶ θυμῷ to λαβεῖν,” 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.
“... 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 χέουσα 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.
“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 ἀιῶνα 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.
“... 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 ἀυγαῖς, 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 ἀυγαῖς 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.
“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.
“... 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 Cithæron, 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.
“... 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 ἰχθῦς 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?
“Weaving the chain unbroken.”
μη κατιζεσθαι—Heath. The true reading not to be discovered.
“... 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 Feuersaüle most unhappily. Droy., when he says “Schweife,” gives the true idea, but I am not afraid to let the original stand.
“... the headlands that look down
On the Saronic gulf.”
I see no proof that πρῶν ever means anything but a promontory, and so cannot follow Con. in reading κάτοπτρον.
“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.
“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 ῶς (ε)υδαιμονες, 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 (ε)υδαίμονες. Humb., according to his general practice, follows the captainship of Hermann, and gives “Götterngleich (ὡς δε δαίμονες).”
“... 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 discurrit. 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.”
“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).
“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 theology, 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 had understanding, and not all observant lived
Of Justice.”
“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.
“Self-will fell Até’s daughter.”
I have here paraphrased a little the two lines—
βιᾶται 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.”
“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.
“The prophets of the house loud wailing.”
δόμων προφῆται. 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.
“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 σιγᾶς᾽, ἄτιμος, ἀλόιδορος
ἅδιστος ἀφἐμένων ἰδεῖν,
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,
πάρεστι σιγὰς (σιγηλος) ἄτιμος ἀλόιδορος
ἄληστος ἀφεμένων ἰδεῖν;
modified thus by Orelli—
ἄπιστος ἀφεμέναν ἰδεῖν—(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 τλᾶσα, 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 πυλᾶν. 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 “she stands,” 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
᾽αισχρῶς 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.”
“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.
“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.
“... 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.”
“... ye sun-fronting gods.”
δαίμονες ἀντήλιοι. 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.
“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.
“These spoils, a shining grace, there to remain
An heritage for ever.”
The word ἀρχαῖον 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.”
“No more than dyer’s art can tincture brass.”
χαλκοῦ 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?
“Far from the honors of the blissful gods.”
χωρὶς ἡ τιμὴ θεῶν. 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.
“Fire and the sea, sworn enemies of old,” etc.
This passage, in the original, boils with a series of high-sounding words, δυσκύμαντα, κεροτοπούμεναι, ὀμβροκτύπῳ, 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.
“That ocean hell.”
ἅδην 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.”
“Far-labouring o’er the loosely-driving main.”
There is a fine word in the original here, σποδουμένου, easily and admirably rendered by Fr.—zerstaübt—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.
“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. Μηχαναῖς 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.
“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 (ἑ)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.”
“... 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.
“Kin but not kind.”
Another etymological allusion; κῆδος 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.
“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 (Il. XIX. v. 91). In the tragedians, Ἄτη is more habitually clothed with a distinct and prominent personality.
“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 ‘ὕβρις’ 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.
“Fawn with watery love.”
ῦδαρεῖ 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 “trügend;” 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.
“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 ὀυ 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 χλαῖναν, 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.
“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.”
“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 festa 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.
“Jove, Jove the perfecter! perfect thou my vow.”
Ζεῦ 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.
“... 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, prefaces 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.
“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.
“... Were link with link
In the chain of things not bound together.”
ἐι δὲ μὴ τεταγμένα μοῖρα κ. τ. λ. In my opinion, Sym., Con., and Peile, are wrong in giving a different meaning to μοῖραν from that which they assign to μοῖρα 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.”
“... the household altar.”
κτησίου βωμοῦ. 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.
“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.
“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 imperceptible 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.”
“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.
“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.
“... 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 Humb., 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.
“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.
“The thick blossoms of its woe.”
ἀμφιθαλῆ κακοῖς 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 ὁρῶμεν ἀνθουν πέλαγος Ἀιγᾶιον νεκρ(ο)ις, v. 645 of this play (see my translation, supra, p. 61), and the μανίας δεινόν ὰποστάζει ἀνθηρόν τε μένος of Sophocles.—Antig. v. 960.
“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.
“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.
“... though I should wedge them
As stark as ice?”
I read πῆγμα 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 πῆγμα, applied to ὁρκος.
“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 Ἄρη.
“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 ὰλλ ἐυκλεῶς τοι κατθαν(ε)ιν 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.”
“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.
“... 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 ταῦτ 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.
“Who of mortals will not pray.”
The line τίς ἀν ἔυξαιτο βροτῶν ἀσιν(ε)ι, 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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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 Med. 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 hand 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.”
“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.
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 νῦν δε τελειάν, 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 νῦν 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.
“O god that o’er the doomed Atridan halls.”
I am afraid I stand alone, among the translators, in translating δαῖμον 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.
“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.
“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.
“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 eternity.”—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, ἀρχαῖα τα Δαβδακιδᾶν ὄικων ὁρῶμαι.
“... 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 Schütz—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 χ(ε)ρων ἄκρους κτένας
[Ἔθετο κάτωθεν πὰντα συγκρύψας τὰ δ ἀυ]
Ἔθρυπτ ἄνωθεν ὰνδρακὰς καθημένοις
Ἄσήμ᾽· ὁ δ ἄυτῶν 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 be lost, or which, perhaps, were not written at all by the poet.
“... 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.
“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.
“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.
Notes to the Choephoræ
“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 Müller 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.
“* * 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 dipt 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.
“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 δῶσι παλίντιτα ἔργα γενέσθαι.
“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.
“And now fear rules.”
φοβεῖτας δέ τις. “People are afraid, and dare not speak out”—Peile. abruptness of this passage renders it difficult to see the allusion. Paley gives it quite a different turn. “Sunt qui ob commissi sceleris quo adepti sint magnam fortunam (το ἐυτυχ(ε)ίν) 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.
“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 ἰοῦσαν ἄτην holds concealed some hopeless blunder; but for the need the κλύσειαν άν μάτην of Fr. may be adopted.
“What the masters of my fate
In their strength decree.”
“There is a proverb, Δ(ο)υλε δεσποτῶν ἄκουε καὶ δίκαια καὶ αδικα. Slave hear thy master whether right or wrong.”—Scholiast.
“... beneath the veil.”
ὑφ (ε)ιμάτων. 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.”
“... 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 χοᾶισι 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.
“... 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.
“What other quittance to a foe
Than hate repaid with hate, and blow with blow?”
Why not? πῶς 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.
“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”—κηύξας ᾽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.
“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 Schütz in reading καλῆς for κακῆς; a correction which, though not absolutely necessary, is sufficiently plausible to justify Blom., Schol., and Pal. in their adoption of it.
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 stronger than καναχὲς in the original, a word familiar to every student of Homer. The ἐρυμα (or ἐρμα—Herm.), I agree with every interpreter, except Klausen, in applying to the tomb of Agamemnon; of the κακῶν κεδνῶν τε, I can make nothing, beyond incorporating the Scholiast’s gloss, ἀπότροπον των ἠμετέρων κακῶν.
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.
“... a low-zoned maid’s.”
βαθυζώνου. “High-bosomed,” Potter; “hochgeschürzt,” 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.
“If it was dipt
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!
“... 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?
“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.
῏Ευ γὰρ πρὸς ἐυ φαν(ε)ισι προσθήκη πελοι. v. 486.
“... 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 praetrea Iliacis erepta ruinis
Ferre jubet; pallam signis auroque rigentem
Et circumtextum croceo velamen acantho
Ornatus Argivae Helenæ.”—Æneid I. 651.
evidently modelled on Odys. xix. 225.
“May Power and Justice aid 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.
“... 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.
“... 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 δυσφρόνων 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.
“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—
‘Ορῶν τε λαμπρὸν ὲν σκότῳ τ᾽ ᾽οφρὺν.
Another way of squeezing a meaning from the line is to refer it to Agamemnon—
“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.
“... him no share
In festal cup awaits, or hallowed drop
Of pure libation.”
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.
“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.
“There where in dark, the dead-man’s day, thou liest.”
Kl. appears to me to have supplied the true key to σκότω φάος ἰσόμοιρον, by comparing the exclamation of Ajax in Sophocles, v. 394—
Ιὼ σκότος ἐμὸν φάος
ἔρεβος 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.
“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.”
“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.) Schütz quotes Pomp. Mela. III. 5—“diutius quam ulli mortalium et beatius vivunt.” Some of these Hyperboreans drank nothing but milk (γαλακτοφάγοι, Hom. Il. XIII. 6), and from this practice the alleged purity of their manners, according to certain modern theories of dietetics, may have arisen.
“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.
“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 mich.—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.
“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.
“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 ἐκ μάτρος.
“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 ἰηλεμιστρίας, 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).
Orestes. Well. 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 πατρώϊον μόρον.
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.
“Scathless myself.”
φυγεῖν. Fr. has unnecessarily changed this into τυχεῖν. In Odyssey XX. 43, Ulysses uses the same language to Athena.
“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.
“Well spoken both.”
With Kl., Peile, Fr., and Pal., I adopt Hermann’s emendation—
κὰι μὴν ἀμεμφῆ 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.
“... try what speed the gods may give thee.”
δαίμονος πειρῶμενος. 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.
“... this whole house with ills
Is sheer possessed.”
δαὶμονᾷ δόμος κακοῖς. 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.
“... 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—
“προς γαρ Διος ἐισιν ἂπαντες
ξεινοί τε πτωχοί τε.”
“All strangers and beggars come from Jove.”
“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.
“... his present aid I ask.
Who laid on my poor wits this bloody task.”
I am inclined with Schütz, Kl., and Peile, to think that there is more propriety in referring this to Apollo than to Pylades. It is true, also, as Schütz remarks, that Æschylus generally, if not invariably, applies the word ἐποπτεύω to the notice taken of anything by a god.
“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.
“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.”
“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 firebrand, 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.
“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.; voce Nisus, and Virgil Georg. I. 404, and Ovid. Met VIII. 90, quoted here by Stan.
“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 (ἀυταῖς ἐμβάλλη 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.”
“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!
“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 Peile, 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.
“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.
Electra. Well. 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.
“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.
“... 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.”
“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 πομπᾶιος, 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.
“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.—
ἐν ὰγγελῳ γὰρ κρυπτὸς ὠρθωθῃ φρενὶ
animo enim clam erigatur nuntio isto.
—See Butler’s Notes.
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 Peile 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.
“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.
“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.
“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 τοῦ δυσεντεύκτους ἀυτάς (ἐ)ιναι) that they might be difficult to get at.”—How Turkish!
Orestes. I have little doubt that Kl., Peile, Fr., Well., and Pal., are right in giving the line ἦ 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.
“... 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.
“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.”
“Sore chastisement.”
ποινὰ. Ahrens, with great boldness, changes this into Ἐρμᾶς, 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.
“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 χρονισθ(ε)ισαυ to Clytemnestra.
“And blithely shall welcome them Fortune the fairest.”
This passage being very corrupt, is rendered freely. I adopt Stan.’s conjecture ἰδεῖν ἀκοῦσαι θ᾽ ἱεμενοις, and suppose μέτοικοι to refer to Orestes and Electra.
“... 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.
“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.”
“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.
“Others ’twixt hope and fear may sway, my fate
Is fixed and scapeless.”
I read—
Ἄλλοις ἄν ἐι δή. τουτ᾽ ἂρ (ὀ)ιδ ὃπη τελ(ε)ι.
Peile.
“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 instances. 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?”
“... 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.
“There is atonement.”
Ἐισιν καθαρμόι, Schütz, Pal.; (ε)᾽ σται καθαρμός, Bothe. Either of these seems preferable to the vulgate ἐισω. Franz has ῟Εις σοι καθαρμὸς. Eins bleibt Dir Sühnung.
“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 Müller, 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.
“... 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.
Notes to the Eumenides
“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. 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).
“... rocky Delos’ lake.”
There can be no question that Schütz 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.
“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 Müller 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.
“... 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 (Nägelsbach Homerische Theologie, p. 105). Stan. compares Virgil Æneid III. 250.
“... 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 foreseeing, 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 Müller 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.
“... 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.
“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.
“... 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.
“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.
“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.
“... 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.
“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.
“... 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.
“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, “über die Minerven Idole Athen’s,” quoted by Schoe.
“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—
ὁρά δε πληγὰς τάσδε καρδιάς ὃθεν.
Siehe diese Wunden meines Herzens woher sie kommen!
“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 (Kühn. 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.
“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 Mül. 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.
“... 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. I.)
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 Müller’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.
“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 Erinyes, 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.
“But where beheading, eye-out-digging dooms.”
In this enumeration of horrors I have omitted κακοῦ τε χλ(ο)υνις, concerning which Lin. says, “Omnino de hoc loco maximis in tenebris versamur; nam neque de lectione, neque de verborum significatione certi quidquam constat.”
“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., Schütz, and Mül., 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 ὃμαιμος in this very connection by the Furies, in v. 575, infra, noted by Hermann, should decide the question.
“... matrimonial 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 necessarily a Ζὲυς τελειος. See Blom. Agam. 946, and Passow in voce τέλειος. Conf. Æn. iii. 605, Juno pronuba.
“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 Μοῖρα, or divine lot, which distributes all the good and evil of which human life is made up.
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.
“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.
“... with forward foot firm planted,
Erect, or with decorous stole high-seated.”
I have not the slightest doubt that τίθησιν (ο)ρθὸν πόδα in this passage can only mean to plant the foot down firmly and stand erect; if so, τίθησι κατηρεφῆ 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 κατηρεφῆς in this passage may mean “enveloped in clouds,” which has been taken up by Franz—
“Sichtbar sic jezt herschreitet, oder Wolkumhüllt,”
because manifestly κατηρεφῆς, in this sense, forms no natural contrast to ὀρθὸς. The “forward foot firm-planted,” I have taken from Müller’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.
“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.
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 purpose of binding down certain hated persons to destruction. For this reason it is called ὕμνος 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 v v v—, 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.
“The seeing and the sightless.”
αλα(ο)ισι 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.
“The gleeless song, and the lyreless strain.”
ὕμνος ἀφόρμιγκτος. “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 ὕμνος ἀφόρμιγκτος in this place is no mere phrase.”—Müller.
“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 ἐλθεῖν, plainly indicate; and it is upon this, and Schoe.’s conjectural emendation of the first line—
σπευδομένος ἀπέχειν τινὰ τᾶσδε 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 (ὀ)υν, 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 ὀρχησμοῖς τ᾽ (ε)πιφθόνοις 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.”
“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.
“He’ll neither swear himself, nor take my oath.”
“The Greek words, ἀλλ ὅρκον ὀυ δεξαιτ ἄν, ὀυ δοῦναι 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.
“In old Ixíon’s guise.”
“Ixíon was the son of Phlegyas, his mother Dia, a daughter 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.
“The ancient city of famous Priam thou
Didst sheer uncity.”
The original ἄπολιν Ιλίου πόλιν ἔθηκας, 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.
“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 ὃμως, of course, must go; and there is nothing better than changing it with Pauw, Müll., and Schoe., into ἐμ(ο)ις. The second ὅμως must likewise go; say ὁσιὼς with Müll. or ὅυτως with Schoe. There is then no difficulty.
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.
“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 ἐυσεβεῖ
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 φάει, supplies me and Fr.—
“Wer der nicht bei Wonneglanz
Trauer auch im Herzen hegt,” etc.
“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 τῆς ὑπερβολῆς καὶ τῆς ἐλλειψεως, ὑπὸ δὲ τῆς μεσότητος σώζεται; and Horace, the poet of common sense, preached many a quiet, tuneful sermon to the same ancient text—
“Auream quisquis mediocritatem
Diligit, tutus caret obsoleti
Sordibus tecti, caret invidenda
Sobrius aula.”
“Pride, that lifts itself unduly.”
I will not multiply citations here to show the reader how this pride or insolence of disposition, ὓβρις (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 ὐπερφρον(ε)ιν παρ ὃ δεῖ φρονεῖν 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.
“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.
Enter Apollo. 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.
“... 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.
“... 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 excommunication of the middle ages. Of this extremely interesting subject, the English reader will find a most luminous exposition in Grote’s Greece, vol. iii. p. 74.
“... 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).
“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.
“... 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 Pœcile, 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.
“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.
“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.
“... all my father lives in me.”
κάρτα δ᾽ ειμι τοῦ πατρος; specially wisdom and energy.—So Milton—
“All my father shines in me.”—Paradise Lost, VII.
Compare the Homeric epithet of Pallas ὁβριμοπάτρη with Nägelsbach’s Comprehensive Commentary—Hom. Theologie, p. 100.
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.
“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).
“... thou shalt hold
An honoured seat beside Erectheus’ home.”
Erectheus, who, as his name signifies (ἔραζε, 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.
“... 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 Mül. ὀυ δόμοις παρων, the present reading, μόλις, being clumsy any way that I have seen it translated.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“And, when Hermes is near thee.”
What we call a “god-send,” or a “wind-fall,” was called by the Greeks ἓρμαιον, 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.
“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 ματροκασιγνῆται, in Greek, can possibly mean sisters.—See Schoe.’s note.
“Jove, that rules the forum, nobly
In the high debate hath conquered.”
Ζεὺς ἀγορᾶιος. 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.
“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 personæ, 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.
Notes to Prometheus Bound
“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.
“This daring wretch.”
λεωργὸν, a difficult word; “evil-doer”—Med. and Prow.; Bösewicht—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.
“... 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 Hephaestus, must have a place in the pediment of the Parthenon representing the birth of Pallas.—Class. Museum, Vol. II. p. 385.
“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.
“... saviour shall be none.”
I entirely agree with Schoe. that in the indefinite expression—(ο) 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.
“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.
“All things may be, but this
To dictate to the gods.”
Ἅπαντ ἐπράχθη πλὴν θε(ο)ισι κοιρανεῖν—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 ἐπαχθῆ 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 θνητῶν ὃστις ἐστ ἐλέυθερος,
ἢ χρημάτων γαρ δ(ο)υλος ἐστιν ἡ τύχης
η πλῆθος ἀυτὸν πόλεως, ἤ νόμων γρἤφαι
ἔιργουσι χρῆσθαι μὴ κατὰ γνῶμην τρόποις.”
Hec. 864.
“Thou hast been called
In vain the Provident.”
This is merely translating Prometheus (from προ before, and μῆτις 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.
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 τῆς ἂγαν γάρ έστί που σιγῆς 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.
“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.
“... 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.
“... 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.
“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.”
“... 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.
“... 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.
“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.
“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.”
“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).
“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.”
“... in cunning torment stretched.”
ἀνηλεῶς ἐῤῥύθμισμαι—“so bin ich zugerichtet.”—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.
“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.
“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.
Enter Ocean. “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 νῆες (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.
“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).
“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.
“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 Heaven and Earth? 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 “γᾶιάν 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 Schütz, 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.
“... 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 θεῶν, 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.
“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.
“... 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 Nägelsbach, 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.
“... 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.
“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 εικῆ 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.
“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.
“... 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.
“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 μοῖρα 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 ἐκ θεῶν ἀνάγκας θνητον ὀντα δεῖ 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.
“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.
“Plant his high will against my weak opinion!”
The original of these words, “μηδάμ θ(ε)ιτ᾽ εμᾀ γνώμᾶ 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.
“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.
Enter Io. Io is one of those mysterious characters on the borderland 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 ᾽(ο)ιστρος 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.
“... save me, O Earth!”
I have here given the received traditionary rendering of Αλεῦ ὦ δᾶ; 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—“Δᾶ is generally looked on as a dialectic variation of γᾶ; and, in conformity with this opinion, Theocritus has used the accusation Δᾶν. I consider this erroneous, and am of opinion that in Δημητηρ we are rather to understand Δεαμητηρ than Γημητηρ; and δᾶ 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 Ahrens de dialecta Doricâ, p. 80, has refuted the traditionary notion with regard to δᾶ.
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.
“... 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.
“... 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.
“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 startling 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.
“When generations ten have passed, the third.”
This mythical genealogy is thus given by Schütz 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.
“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 φλ(ο)ισβος) 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 (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.
“... 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 dulcis; 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.
“... 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.
“... 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 Müller’s Prolegom. myth.) The etymology, like many others given by the ancients, is ridiculous enough; ἐπαφή, 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 puerile 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).
“... 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.
“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.
“... 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 Phœnissæ. 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 ἑλόμένον), delivered up Chiron to Jove willing, though immortal, to die in his room (θνήσκειν ὰντ᾽ 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 Macpherson in Blackwood’s Magazine for August, 1842.
“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 ἐπαυχεῖ τί χαλᾷ μανιῶν;
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?
Notes to the Suppliants
“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.
“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.
“Gently thrilled the brize-stung heifer
With his procreant touch.”
See p. 204 above, and 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 (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.
“Ye blissful gods supremely swaying.”
I see no necessity here, with Pal., for changing ὧν πολις into ὦ 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.
“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).
“With Ionian wailings unstinted.”
“Perhaps Ionian is put in this place antithetically to Νειλοθερῆ, 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.
“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.
“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, πᾶν 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.
“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.
“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.
“... 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’s Dict. Antiq., Articles ἄντυξ and currus.
“... the Agonian gods.”
The common meaning that a Greek scholar would naturally give to the phrase θεοῖ 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 ἀγορᾶιοι;” i.e. gods that preside over assemblies.
“... 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.”
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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 herds with 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.
“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 ξένος 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.
“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.
“All the land where Algos flows, and Strymon.”
The geography here is very confused. I shall content myself with noting the different points from Müller’s map (Dorians)—
(1) Algos; unknown.
(2) Strymon; a well-known river in Thrace.
(3) Perrhæbians; in Thessaly, North of the Peneus (Homer, Il. 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.
“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 ἱερῆς 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. πῶς ᾶν τις ἄλυπος ἒιη)—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.
“... 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.
“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.
“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—“συῶν 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.
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, 44.
“Both this and that.”
I have translated this difficult passage freely, according to the note of Schütz., 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.
“The wrath of suppliant Jove.”
i.e. Jove the protector of suppliants. See above, 1.
“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.
“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 Müller 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, φιλεῖ 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.
“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 ἒσθ ἣτις ἀνδρός ἐσθ᾽ ἑνός.” 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.
“... 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 κλῆρος, 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.
“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.
“... 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 Homer passim.
“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—
Ζεῦ Ζεῦ 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.
“... 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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“Holy Hecate’s aid avail thee.”
Hecate is an epithet of Artemis, as Hecatos of Apollo, meaning far or distant (ἕκας). 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᾽ (ο) 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.
“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. voce Ships.
“... 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., and woodcuts there from Montfaucon. This custom, Pal. remarks, still continues in the Mediterranean.
“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.
“... their ships dark-fronted.”
(κυανώπιδες.) The reader will call to mind the νῆες μέλαιναι, the black ships in Homer.—See Dict. Antiq. voce Ships.
“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.
“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 ἔνι χώρᾳ.
“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.
“The shepherds of the ships.”
I have retained this phrase scrupulously—ποιμένες ναῶν—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.
“... 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.
“On a hanging cliff where lone winds sigh.”
κρεμὰς. Robortellus: 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.”
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, 19.
“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.
“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.
“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 ἐρῶ.
A few lines below, for (ὀ)υν ἐκληρώθη δορὶ, I have followed Pal. in adopting Heath’s εἵνεκ᾽ ἠρόθη δορὶ.
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.
“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 Cyprian goddess preferring the love of a husband to the command of a father.
“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.
“Yet must I fear the chase.”
φυγάδεσσιν δ ἒπιπλόιας. Haupt adopted by Pal. An excellent conjecture.
Notes to the Seven Against Thebes
“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.
ὧν 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.
“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 ὦσι—mentioned so expressly, if not to make some contrast to the common method of divining by the eye?
“By Mars, Enýo, and blood-loving Terror.”
With Mars in Homer (Il. IV. 440) are coupled φόβος and Δ(ε)ιμος, 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, fanaque Pallori et Pavori.”—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.
“... the chariot of Adrastus.”
“Because it had been predicted that Adrastus alone should survive the war.”—Scholiast.
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 19 to the Eumenides, p. 377.
“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.
“... 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 Phœnissæ, 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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“Save us, Cypris, mother of Thebans.”
“Harmonia, whom Cadmus married, was the daughter of Mars and Aphrodite.”—Scholiast.
“Save us, save us, Wolf-Apollo.”
Here is one of those pious puns upon the epithets of the gods, which were alluded to in 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).
“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.
“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.
“... 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 ἐτερόφωνος is only paullo gravius dictum ad miserationem—that is, only a little tragic exaggeration for hostile or foreign.
“... 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.
“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.”
“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.”
“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.”
“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 13 to Prometheus, p. 390 above.
“... 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 Iliad V. From the frequency of the words βοᾶν, 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.
“... 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.
“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.
“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 σπαρτόι, or the Sown. See Stan.’s note.
“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.
“... 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 brazen helm, we shake the lot; and first of all,
Of Eurylochus, mighty-hearted, leapt the lot.”—Odyssey X. 206.
“At the Netaean gate.”
So called from Neis, a son of Zethus, the brother of Amphion. Pausan. IX. 8; Unger. p. 313.
“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 διαδρομᾶν (ο)μαίμονες, 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.
“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.
“... by the god of war
Indwelt.”
ἔνθεος 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—ἔχει δαιμόνιον—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.
“... 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 59 to the Eumenides, p. 386.
“The sixth a sober man, a seer of might,
Before the Homoloidian gate stands forth.”
i.e. Amphiaraus—see above, 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.
“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, 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.
“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 δοκ(ε)ιν ἄριστος ἀλλ᾽ (ἐ)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.
“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.
“... the god will have it so.”
This is one of the cases so frequent in the ancient poets (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.
“Death is thy only gain, and death to-day
Is better than to-morrow!”
λέγουσα κέρδος 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 Schütz., and E. P. Oxon., on my side, also the simple comment of Scholiast II.—κερδ(ο)ς, i.e. τὸ νῦν τεθνᾶναι 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 tödlet 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 νῦν τεθναναι understood to κέρδος, Wellauer’s objection falls that μαλλον or μειζον must be understood to render the rendering in my text admissible.
“... 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 ὀυ θεοῖς ὅμοιοι—nothing like the gods.
“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.
“... for sorry tendance wrathful.”
I read ἐπίκοτος τροφᾶς 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’s Trilogie, p. 358, and Pal.’s Note.
“... (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.
“And I for plaints no less than pæans bring thee.”
I see no sufficient case made out for giving these words from τοιᾶυτα 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.
“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.
“Moera, baneful gifts dispensing.”
The word μοῖρα 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 μοῖρα 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,
But Jove and Moera and the Fury, 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.
“Due burial in its friendly bosom.”
θάπτειν ἔδοξε γῆς φιλαις κατασκφαῖς. 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 σῶμα 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.”
“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 κῆρες Εριννύες—combining, as it does, in grammatical apposition, two terrible divine powers, that the ancient poets generally keep separate. The κῆρες, 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.”
Notes to the Persians
“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. Antiq. voci Daric. “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.
“... 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 say, 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.
“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.
“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.
“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, 48.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“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.
“The sundered planks, and the drifted dead.”
I do not think there can be any doubt as to the meaning of the original here, πλαγκτοῖς (ε)ν 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 stürmend umher sie die Planken!”
“... 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.
“... 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.
“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.
“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 temple is better in the present connection and to a modern ear. Lucretius (Lib. I. near the end) has “Coeli tonitralia templa.”
“... 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.”—Keightley.
“... 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.
“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.
“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 ξανθῆς, 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?
“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.
“O Aïdóneus, 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.
“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.
“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 ἀνεῖσα τρυφᾶς.—Eurip. Phœniss. 1491.—Matth.
“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.
“Triremes no more?”
ναες ἄναες (α)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 ῏Ιρος (α)Ιρος 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!”
“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.
“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 ὀυδαμῶς πρόθυμος ᾖν 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.
“... 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.
“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 ᾳσμάτων ἐθνικῶν. 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.
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!”
“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!”
“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, I 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.
[End of Notes]