The Project Gutenberg eBook ofThe Rhesus of EuripidesThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: The Rhesus of EuripidesAuthor: EuripidesTranslator: Gilbert MurrayRelease date: February 4, 2011 [eBook #35170]Most recently updated: January 7, 2021Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Barbara Watson and the Online DistributedProofreading Canada Team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net((This file was produced from images generously madeavailable by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries))*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RHESUS OF EURIPIDES ***
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
Title: The Rhesus of EuripidesAuthor: EuripidesTranslator: Gilbert MurrayRelease date: February 4, 2011 [eBook #35170]Most recently updated: January 7, 2021Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Barbara Watson and the Online DistributedProofreading Canada Team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net((This file was produced from images generously madeavailable by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries))
Title: The Rhesus of Euripides
Author: EuripidesTranslator: Gilbert Murray
Author: Euripides
Translator: Gilbert Murray
Release date: February 4, 2011 [eBook #35170]Most recently updated: January 7, 2021
Language: English
Credits: Produced by Barbara Watson and the Online DistributedProofreading Canada Team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net((This file was produced from images generously madeavailable by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries))
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RHESUS OF EURIPIDES ***
FOR ENGLISH READERS
A Series of Verse Translations of the GreekDramatic Poets, with Commentaries andExplanatory Notes.
Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt top, 7s. 6d. each net.Each Volume Illustrated from ancientSculptures and Vase-Painting.
AESCHYLUS:The Orestean Trilogy. By Prof.G. C. Warr. With an Introduction onThe Rise of Greek Tragedy, and 13 Illustrations.
SOPHOCLES:Œdipus TyrannusandColoneus, andAntigone. By Prof.J. S. Phillimore. With an Introduction onSophocles and his Treatment of Tragedy, and 16 Illustrations.
EURIPIDES:Hippolytus;Bacchae;Aristophanes' 'Frogs.'By Prof.Gilbert Murray. With an Appendix onThe Lost Tragedies of Euripides, and an Introduction onThe Significance of the Bacchae in Athenian History, and 12 Illustrations.[Fifth Edition.
ALSO UNIFORM WITH THE ABOVE
THE HOMERIC HYMNS. A New Prose Rendering byAndrew Lang, with Essays Critical and Explanatory, and 14 Illustrations.
THE PLAYS OF EURIPIDES
Translated into English Rhyming Verse, with Explanatory Notes, by Prof.Gilbert Murray.
Thisshort play needs rather a long introduction. It has had the bad fortune to become a literary problem, and almost all its few readers are so much occupied with the question whether it can be the work of Euripides—and if not his, whose?—that they seldom allow themselves to take it on its merits as a stirring and adventurous piece, not particularly profound or subtle, but always full of movement and life and possessing at least one or two scenes of great and penetrating beauty.
The outlines of theRhesusQuestion are these.—TheRhesusappears in the MSS. of Euripides; we know from the Athenian Didascaliae, or Records of Performances, that Euripides wrote a play of the name; some passages in it are quoted by early Alexandrian writers as from "theRhesusof Euripides;" no passage is quoted under any other name. This seems about as strong as external evidence need be. Yet the ancient introduction to the play mentions that "some think the play spurious," and expresses the odd opinion that "it suggests rather the Sophoclean style." Further, it tells us that, besides the present opening scene, there were extant two different prologues, one of which was "quite prosy and perhaps concocted by the actors." This seems to show that the Alexandrian scholars who tried for the firsttime to collect the complete works of Euripides, some two centuries after his death, found this play current as "Euripides'Rhesus," but that it was credited with three different openings and that its style was felt to be somehow peculiar.
The peculiarity of style is incontestable. It does not to our judgment suggest Sophocles. It suggests a young man imitating Aeschylus, and it has a great number of Euripidean expressions. Hermann, who collected what he took to be "imitations" of early poets in theRhesus, noted only 25 of Sophocles, 38 of Aeschylus, and 84 of Euripides.
Is it, then, the work of a somewhat imitative fourth-century poet, naturally influenced by his great forerunners? Hardly: because, with a few exceptions, the verse and diction of theRhesus, are markedly early in character, the verse severe and smooth, the diction direct and rather grandiose, the choral lyrics strictly relevant. In Euripides' later years Drama was moving rapidly away from all these things and, as far as we can judge, continued so moving after his death. If theRhesusis a post-classical play it can hardly be honest fourth-century work: it must be deliberately archaistic, a product of the Alexandrian spirit if not actually of the Alexandrian age. This is what Hermann believed. But unfortunately it is not a bit more like our fragments of Alexandrian tragedy than it is like theMedea; and, further, if it is an Alexandrian pseudo-classic tragedy, how did it succeed in deceiving the Alexandrian critics, detectives specially trained for this kind of work?
Let us try quite a different hypothesis, and begin byaccepting the external evidence as true. The famous critic, Crates, of the second centuryB.C., happens to mention—in excuse of what he took to be a slip in the poet's astronomy—that theRhesusof Euripides was a youthful work. Now the earliest dated tragedy of Euripides that we possess is theAlcestis,B.C.438, written when he was about forty-six. His style may well have been considerably different fifteen or twenty years earlier, and must certainly have been much under the influence of Aeschylus. So far, so good. Then what of the other difficulties, the three different opening scenes and the few passages of late phrasing or technique? One obvious explanation suits both. The three different openings pretty clearly imply that the play was reproduced more than once after the poet's death and adapted by the producer for each occasion. This happened to many plays of Euripides, and in one case we even know the name of the producer; he was Euripides the Younger, son of the poet. Among other things we have reason to believe that he wrote some parts of theIphigenia in Aulis. And in this connexion we can hardly help noticing that theIphigenia in Aulis, like theRhesusand like no other Greek tragedy, has two alternative openings, one a dull prologue and one a lyrical scene in anapaests under the stars. The general style of the two plays is utterly different; theIphigeniais most typically late Euripidean; but one would not be surprised to learn that they had both passed at some time through the same revising hand.
This hypothesis seems to work well. But one difficulty remains.
We have so far gone on the supposition thatEuripides at twenty-five or thirty perhaps wrote very differently from Euripides at forty-six, and that the manner we call Euripidean is only the manner of his later life. There is nothing improbable in this suggestion, but have we any evidence? Yes, a very little, and unfortunately it does not say what we want. We have some fragments—twenty lines altogether—preserved from thePeliades, with which Euripides won his first victory in the year 455, seventeen years before theAlcestis, and as far as they go they are just in his ordinary manner—a good deal more so, in fact, than much of theAlcestisis. Let us face this difficulty.
The ordinary style of Euripides is full, flexible, lucid, antithetic, studiously simple in vocabulary and charged with philosophic reflection. If we look in his extant remains for any trace of a style, like that of theRhesus, which is comparatively terse, rich, romantic, not shrinking from rare words and strong colour and generally untinged by philosophy, we shall find the nearest approach to it in theCyclops. Next to theCyclopsI am not sure what play would come, but theAlcestiswould not be far off. It has especially several Epic forms which cannot be paralleled in tragedy. Now the conjunction of these two plays with theRhesusis significant. The three seem to be three earliest of the extant plays; they are also—if we count theHeraclidaeas mutilated—the three shortest. But, what is more important, theCyclopsis not a tragedy but a satyr-play, and theAlcestisis a tragedy of a special sort, written to take the place of a satyr-play. It is a tragedy with some half grotesque figures and a fantastic atmosphere.
This is no place for a close analysis of the diction of the various works of Euripides; but taking one rough test, just for what it is worth, we may try to count the number of words in each play which are not found elsewhere in Euripides. TheMedea, a central sort of play, has in its 1419 lines 103 such words. TheAlcestis, with 1163 lines, has 122; theRhesus, with less than 1000 lines, has 177; theCyclops, with only 701 lines, has actually 220. This calculation is doubtless slightly inexact: in any case it is worth very little until it is carefully analysed. But on the whole it accords with my general impression that theRhesusin its variation from the Euripidean norm goes further than theAlcestis, and not so far as theCyclops, and goes in very much the same direction. I feel in theRhesusa good deal of that curious atmosphere, not exactly comic, but wild and extravagant, which the Greeks felt to be suited to the Satyr horde; the atmosphere normally breathed by the one-eyed Giant of the cavern on volcanic Aetna, or the drunken and garlanded Heracles who wrestles with Death and cracks his ribs for him at midnight among the tombs. The whole scene and setting of theRhesus; the man-wolf crawling away into the darkness and his two enemies presently crawling in out of the same darkness with his bloody spoils; the divine Thracian king with his round targe that shines by night and his horses whiter than the snow; the panic of the watch, the vaunting of the doomed chieftain, the goddess disguised as another goddess, the thrilling half-farcical scene where the spy Odysseus is actually caught and befools his captors: these things are not of course comic, like some incidents in theCyclops. Theybelong to tragedy; but they are near the outside limit of the tragic convention, and would perhaps be most at home in a pro-satyric tragedy like theAlcestis.
In the upshot I see no adequate reason for rejecting the external evidence which makes this play a work of Euripides, if we suppose it to be an early pro-satyric play which was produced again after the poet's death by Euripides the Younger or some contemporary. Most scholars, however, prefer to think it simply an archaistic work of the fourth century.
On this theory the Alexandrians when looking for theRhesusof Euripides found an anonymous play calledRhesusand accepted it for what it was worth. The Prologues mentioned in the argument would perhaps belong to other plays of the same name; one, no doubt, to the real play of Euripides. The rich and severe style may, for all we know—for direct evidence fails us—be the natural mark of some reactionary archaistic school about the time of Plato or Aristotle. The same date might well be indicated by the great interest our play takes in the Iliad, and by its almost "Alexandrian" use of the gods as ornamental machinery. I cannot call such a theory improbable; but it really amounts to rejecting the external evidence in order to place theRhesusin a period of tragic style of which we happen to know nothing. It is certainly not confirmed by the scanty fragments we possess of Theodectes or Chairemon.
And, if one is to venture into more speculative and subjective arguments, I find it rather hard to think of any lyric poet except Euripides who could have written the Adrasteia chorus or the lines aboutthe Nightingale in the Watchers' Song; of any playwright except Euripides who would have ended a play of gallant martial adventure with the vision of a solitary mother clasping her dead son. There are many other passages, too, like the mysterious sobbing in the dark that heralds the entry of the wounded Thracian, and the final passing out of the army to its certain defeat, which seem to me more like undeveloped genius than common imitative mediocrity. If a nameless fourth-century poet wrote this play, I think we should have heard more of him.
The story of the play is taken straight from the Doloneia, an Epic rhapsody which now takes its place as the Tenth Book of the Iliad, but was very likely independent in the time of Euripides (Rise of the Greek Epic, p. 313 f.). The play seems in one or two points to follow a more archaic model than the version in our Homer. (See notes on l. 150 and l. 175.)
In Rhesus himself—the name is said to be the Thracian form ofrex[1]—we seem to have the traditional divine king of the Thracian tribes about Pangaion, seen through the eyes of Greek romance. He is the son of the greatest of Rivers and the Muse of the Mountain: she is simply "The Muse," otherwise nameless, and we are lost if we try to bind her down to the identity of any Greek goddess. Like many Thracian heroes Rhesus has a dash of the Sun-god in him, the burning targe, the white horses and the splendour. Like them he is a boaster anda deep drinker, a child of battle and of song. Like other divine kings he dies in his youth and strength, and keeps watch over his people from some "feasting presence, full of light," where he lies among the buried silver-veins of Pangaion. If the uttermost need comes, doubtless he will wake again. When the Athenians began making their dangerous settlements on the coast of Thrace—ten thousand settlers were massacred by Rhesus's people about 465B.C.: Amphipolis not fully established till 437—they found the legend of Rhesus in the air, and eventually they thought it prudent to send for his hallowed bones from the Troad, where they were supposed to be buried, and give them a tomb in the Athenian colony. Possibly that pacified him. And his legend in the mouth of the poets seemed perhaps like the story of his own mountaineers, multitudes of strong men, stormy and chivalrous, terrible in onset, who somehow in the end melted away before the skill and persistent courage of a civilised Greek city.
Hector,Prince of Îlion and General of the Trojan Armies.
Aenêas,a Trojan Prince.
Dolon,a Trojan.
Paris,also calledAlexander,brother of Hector.
Rhêsus,King of Thrace, son of the River Strŷmon and the Muse of the Mountains.
A Thracian,the King's charioteer.
Odysseus,a Greek chieftain, famous for craft and daring.
Diomêdês,a Greek chieftain, famous for valour.
A Shepherd.
The GoddessAthêna.
TheMuse of the Mountains.
Chorusof Trojan Guards with theirLeader.
SomeThracianswith theirCaptain,Attendants, &c.
The date and authorship of the play are unknown; it probably belongs to the Fifth Century B.C., and is attributed to Euripides.
It is a cloudy but moonlight night on the plain before Troy. The Trojans and their allies have won a decisive victory and are camping on the open field close to the Greek outposts. The scene is in front of a rude tent or hut that has been set up forHector,the Trojan leader. A watch-fire burns low in front. Far off at the back can be seen rows of watch-fires in the Greek camp. The road to Troy is in front to the left; the road to Mount Ida leads far away to the right.
All is silence; then a noise outside. Enter tumultuously a band of Trojan Pickets.
Various Voices.
(The dash — in these passages indicates a new speaker.)
On to the Prince's quarters!—Ho!Who is awake? What man-at-arms,Or squire or groom?—Let Hector knowNew rumour of alarmsFrom sentinels who stand at markThe four long watches of the dark,While others sleep.—Uplift thine head,O Hector! On thine elbow rise,Unhood the eagle of thine eyes,Up from thy leaf-strewn bed!—Lord Hector!
Hector(coming out from the tent).
Who goes there? Who cries?A friend? The watchword! . . . By what rightDo men come prowling in the nightAcross my quarters? Come! Speak out.
Leader.
A picket, Lord.
Hector.
In such a rout?
Leader.
Be not afraid, Lord.
Hector.
I am not.Is there an ambush? No? Then what,In God's name, brings you from your postWith no clear tale to speak,To spread this turmoil through a hostThat lies in harness—do ye allKnow nothing?—out against the wallAnd gateways of the Greek?
Chorus(various voices confusedly). [Strophe.
To arms! To arms, Lord Hector!—SendFirst where the allied armies lie,Bid them draw sword and make an endOf sleep.—Let someone flyAnd get the horses' armour on!—Who goes with me to Panthoös' son?—Who's for Sarpêdon and the Lycians?—NoneHath seen the priest go by?—Ho, Captain of the Runners, ho!—Ho, Trojans of the hornèd bow!String, string! For need is nigh.
Hector.
Ha, silence there! . . .First words of fear,Then comfort. All an empty swell!It seems the lash of trembling PanHath caught you. Speak, if speak ye can.What tidings? Not a word is clearOf the whole tale ye tell.
[The turmoil subsides, theLeadercomes forward.
Leader.[Antistr.
Great beacons in the Argive lineHave burned, my chief, through half the night.The shipyard timbers seemed to shine.Then, clear against the light,Toward Agamemnon's tent the wholeArmy in tumult seemed to roll,As stirred by some strange voice, shoal after shoal.A night of such discordWas never seen. And we, in dreadWhat such things boded, turned and spedHither; dost blame us, Lord?
Hector(after a moment of thought).
No! Welcome, friend, with all thy tale of fear!It shows they mean to fly: they mean to clearDecks in the dark and so delude my sight . . .I like that beacon-burning in the night.O Zeus above, who checked my conquering way,Who baulked the hungry lion of his preyOr ever I could sweep my country clearOf these despoilers, dost thou hate my spear?Had but the sun's bright arrows failed me not,I ne'er had rested till the ships were hotWith fire, and through the tents upon the plainThis bloody hand had passed and passed again!Myself, I longed to try the battle-castBy night, and use God's vantage to the last,But sage and prophet, learned in the wayOf seercraft, bade me wait for dawn of day,And then—leave no Greek living in the land.They wait not, they, for what my prophets plannedSo sagely. In the dark a runawayBeats a pursuer.Through our whole arraySend runners! Bid them shake off sleep and waitReady with shield and spear. 'Tis not too lateTo catch them as they climb on board, and slashTheir crouching shoulders till the gangways splashWith blood, or teach them, fettered leg and arm,To dig the stiff clods of some Trojan farm.
Leader.
My Prince, thy words run fast. Nor thou nor IHave knowledge yet that the Greeks mean to fly.
Hector.
What makes them light their beacons? Tell me, what?
Leader.
God knows! And, for my part, I like it not.
Hector.
God knows! And, for my part, I like it not.
Leader.
God knows! And, for my part, I like it not.
Hector.
They never fled, man, in such wild dismay.
Leader(yielding).
'Twas all thy work.—Judge thou, and we obey.
Hector.
My word is simple. Arm and face the foe.
[A sound of marching without.
Leader.
Who comes? Aeneas, and in haste, as thoughFraught with some sudden tiding of the night.
EnterAeneas.
Aeneas.
Hector, what means it? Watchers in affrightWho gather shouting at thy doors, and thenHold midnight council, shaking all our men?
Hector.
To arms, Aeneas! Arm from head to heel!
Aeneas.
What is it? Tidings? Doth the Argive stealSome march, some ambush in the day's eclipse?
Hector.
'Tis flight, man! They are marching to the ships.
Aeneas.
How know'st thou?—Have we proof that it is flight?
Hector.
They are burning beacon-fires the livelong night.They never mean to wait till dawn. BehindThat screen of light they are climbing in the blindDark to their ships—unmooring from our coast.
Aeneas(looking toward the distant fires: after a pause).
God guide them!—Why then do you arm the host?
Hector.
I mean to lame them in their climbing, IAnd my good spear, and break them as they fly.Black shame it were, and folly worse than shame,To let these spoilers go the road they cameUnpunished, when God gives them to us here.
Aeneas.
Brother, I would thy wit were like thy spear!But Nature wills not one man should be wiseIn all things; each must seek his separate prize.And thine is battle pure. There comes this wordOf beacons, on the touch thy soul is stirred:"They fly! Out horse and chariots!"—Out withalPast stake and trench, while night hangs like a pall!Say, when we cross that coiling depth of dyke,We find the foe not fled, but turned to strike;One check there, and all hope of good returnIs gone. How can our men, returning, learnThe tricks of the palisade? The chariots howKeep to the bridges on the trenches' brow,Save with jammed wheels and broken axles? Aye,And say thou conquer: other wars yet lieBefore thee. Peleus' son, for all his ire,Will never let thee touch the ships with fireOr pounce on his Greek lambs. The man will bideNo wrong and standeth on a tower of pride.Nay, brother, let the army, head on shield,Sleep off its long day's labour in the field:Then, send a spy; find someone who will dareCreep to yon Argive camp. Then, if 'tis clearThey mean flight, on and smite them as they fly.Else, if the beacons hide some strategy,The spy will read it out, and we can callA council.—Thus speak I, my general.
Chorus.[Strophe.
'Tis good! 'Tis wisdom! Prince, give heedAnd change the word thy passion gave.No soldier loveth, in his need,The glory of a chief too brave.A spy is best: a spy, to learnFor what strange work those beacons burnAll night beside the guarded wave.
Hector.
Ye all so wish it?—Well, ye conquer me.(ToAeneas) Go thou and calm the allies. There will beSome stir among them, hearing of these highAnd midnight councils.—I will seek the spyTo send to the Greek camp. If there we learnOf some plot hatching, on the man's returnI straight will call thee and share counsels. So.But wait attentive. If he says they goShipward and plan to escape, one trumpet callShall warn thee, and I wait no more, but fallOn camp and hulls, or ever dawn can rise.
Aeneas.
Aye, haste and send him. Now thy plans are wise,And when need comes I am with thee, sword by sword.[ExitAeneas.
Hector(turning to the Guards and other soldiers).
Ye gathered Trojans, sharers of my word,Who dares to creep through the Greek lines alone?Who will so help his fatherland?Doth noneOffer? Must I do everything, one handAlone, to save our allies and our land?
[A lean dark man pushes forward from the back.
Dolon.
I, Prince!—I offer for our City's sakeTo go disguised to the Greek ships, to makeTheir counsels mine, and here bring word to thee.If that be thy full service, I agree.
Hector.
Dolon the Wolf! A wise wolf and a true!Thy father's house was praised when first I knewTroy: this shall raise it twofold in our eyes.
Dolon.
'Tis wise to do good work, but also wiseTo pay the worker. Aye, and fair rewardMakes twofold pleasure, though the work be hard.
Hector.
So be it: an honest rule. Do thou lay downWhat guerdon likes thee best—short of my crown.
Dolon.
I care not for thy crowned and care-fraught life.
Hector.
Wouldst have a daughter of the King to wife?
Dolon.
I seek no mate that might look down on me.
Hector.
Good gold is ready, if that tempteth thee.
Dolon.
We live at ease and have no care for gold.
Hector.
Well, Troy hath other treasures manifold.
Dolon.
Pay me not now, but when the Greeks are ta'en.
Hector.
The Greeks! . . . Choose any save the Atridae twain.
Dolon.
Kill both, an it please thee. I make prayer for none.
Hector.
Thou wilt not ask for Ajax, Îleus' son?
Dolon.
A princely hand is skilless at the plough.
Hector.
'Tis ransom, then? . . . What prisoner cravest thou?
Dolon.
I said before, of gold we have our fill.
Hector.
For spoils and armour . . . thou shalt choose at will.
Dolon.
Nail them for trophies on some temple wall.
Hector.
What seeks the man? What prize more rich than all?
Dolon.
Achilles' horses! [Murmurs of surprise.Yes, I need a greatPrize. I am dicing for my life with Fate.
Hector.
'Fore God, I am thy rival, if thy loveLies there. Undying was the breed thereof,And these shall never die, who bear to warGreat Peleus' son, swift gleaming like a star.Poseidon, rider of the wild sea-drift,Tamed them, men say, and gave them for his giftTo Peleus.—None the less, since I have stirredHopes, I will baulk them not. I pledge my word,Achilles' steeds, a rare prize, shall be thine.
Dolon.
I thank thee.—'Tis indeed a prize more fineThan all in Troy.—Grudge me not that; there beGuerdons abundant for a Prince like thee.[ExitHector.
Chorus.[Antistr.
O peril strange, O fearful prize!Yet win it and thy life hath wings:A deed of glory in men's eyes,And greatness, to be wooed of kings.If God but hearken to the right,Thou drinkest to the full this nightThe cup of man's imaginings.
Dolon.
[He stands waiting a moment looking out into the dark.
There lies the way.—But first I must go findAt home some body-shelter to my mind;Then, forward to the ships of Argolis!
Leader.
What other raiment wilt thou need than this?
Dolon.
A garb for work, for night; a thieving guise.
Leader.
'Tis good to learn the wisdoms of the wise.What will thy wrapping be?
Dolon.
A grey wolf's hideShall wrap my body close on either side;My head shall be the mask of gleaming teeth,My arms fit in the forepaws, like a sheath,My thighs in the hinder parts. No Greek shall tell'Tis not a wolf that walks, half visible,On four feet by the trenches and aroundThe ship-screen. When it comes to empty groundIt stands on two.—That is the plan, my friend!
Leader.
Now Maian Hermes guide thee to thy endAnd home safe! Well he loves all counterfeit . . .Good work is there; may good luck go with it!
Dolon(to himself gazing out toward the Greek camp).