Four Tragedies and Octavia (14 page)

CHORUS
: Why does a messenger come hurrying hither

With tears of sorrow watering his cheeks?

MESSENGER
: A hard and cruel fate is mine, heavy

The burden of my service. Why was I

Chosen to bring the news I dare not tell?

THESEUS
: Speak out, and have no fear; tell all the worst

That has befallen us. I am prepared.

MESSENGER
: My tongue wants words to tell this grievous woe.

THESEUS
: Say what last stroke has crushed our fallen house.

MESSENGER
: Weep for Hippolytus, for he is dead!

THESEUS
: My son is dead, I knew already; now

A miscreant has died. Say how he died.

MESSENGER
: With desperate steps he hurried from the town

As fast as any way could take him. Quickly

He yoked his restive steeds and bridled them

With buckled curbs. Then, muttering all the while,

Cursing his native land, and crying aloud

His father's name, wildly he drove away,

With flying reins and whirling lash. At once

A peal of thunder broke across the sea,

Which rose to meet the stars. No wind disturbed

The salty surface, the untroubled sky

Uttered no sound; the storm that shook the sea,

So calm till then, was native to itself,

But fiercer than the rage of southern Auster

Lashing the straits of Sicily; and wilder

Than the Ionian waters tossing high

When northern Corus reigns, when rocks are shaken

By mighty billows, and the head of Leucas

Whitened by the spray. The whole great main

Was piled into a towering mass; the ocean,

Big-bellied with a monster, rolled to land.

This was no ship-destroying cataclysm,

Its fury was directed at the shores,

Whereon the waves came tumbling thick and fast.

And what was this strange burden that the tide

Bore in its swelling womb? Was some new island

Raising its head to light? Was this the birth

Of one more Cyclad? Now the rising waters

Covered the sacred reef of Epidaurus,

And the notorious Scironian rocks,

And all the Isthmus in between the seas.

    Amazed we watched, and wondered, while the whole

Sea roared, and the surrounding cliffs roared back.

Each pinnacle was wet with driven spray

Blown out and sucked back by the swirling waters;

As when the huge spouting leviathan's

Wide mouth blows out the water as he rides

Across the ocean. Then, a tremor shook

The mass of water and it burst apart

And threw on to the shore a thing – a thing

Of evil, far more foul than any fear

Of ours could have conceived; and after it

The sea rushed on towards us, in the wake

Of that abominable apparition.…

My fear still trembles on my lips.… How vast,

How horrible of shape the creature was!

A bull – dark blue about the rising neck,

Sea-green the shaggy forelock on its brow,

Hairy the ears, eyes shot with varied hues,

That of the leader of a mountain herd,

And that of some sea-creature – fiery red,

And lustrous with the purple of the sea.

Thick muscles rippled on its massive neck,

And through the gaping nostrils draughts of air

Hissed horribly. Its breast and dewlaps dripped

Green slimy moss, and all along its flanks

Red seaweed clung. The hinder parts were drawn

Into some nameless shape, a scaly length

Of tail enormous trailed behind the monster.

Of such a shape might be the deep-sea shark

Which crushes or devours the swiftest ships.

Earth shook, and every animal took flight

In terror from the fields, and every herdsman

Was too amazed to follow up his cattle.

Wild beasts broke from their coverts everywhere,

And everywhere the huntsman, frozen stiff

With fear, stood trembling. Only Hippolytus

Was unafraid; his horses took alarm,

But with the rein he held them hard and mastered

Their panic with the voice they knew so well.

    The road that skirts the margin of the sea

Turns through a deep ravine between the hills

Towards the country. Here the monster paused

To whet its anger and prepare for battle.

Then, having practised to its satisfaction

And limbered up its powers, with wrath renewed

It charged ahead, so fast the flying feet

Scarce touched the ground beneath; and then it stopped,

Confronting with a scowl the quivering horses.

Your son stood boldly up and faced the beast

With fearless challenge and unaltered mien,

And in a voice as loud as thunder cried:

‘This bogey cannot frighten me! I know

How to fight bulls; it was my father's trade.'

But suddenly his horses jumped the reins,

Swerved off the road, taking the chariot with them,

And raced across the rocks, this way and that,

Wherever their wild terror took them. Still,

Like a ship's helmsman on a heaving sea

Holding his course head-on into the breakers,

Pitting his skill against their force – the youth

Guided his chariot. Tugging at the bit

With tightened reins, or flaying with the whip,

He kept control; while his competitor

Hung on to him – now drawing level, now

Wheeling around to face him, scaring him

From all directions; till at last, full tilt,

The horrible horned monster of the sea

Charged from the front, and there was no escaping.

    At this, the maddened horses broke all bounds

And in their struggle to throw off the yoke

Reared up, hurling their driver to the ground.

Headlong he plunged and, in his fall caught up

In the entangling straps, the more he wrestled

The more he knotted up the gripping harness.

The horses knew what they had done; the chariot

Was lighter, and they had no master now;

Fear took control, and where it led they followed.

So was it when the horses in the sky,

Feeling an unknown rider at their back,

Hating to have the car of daylight lent

To a pretender Sun, flung Phaethon down

From his wild orbit in the upper air.

The ground was reddened with a trail of blood;

His head was dashed from rock to rock, his hair

Torn off by thorns, his handsome face despoiled

By flinty stones; wound after wound destroyed

For ever that ill-fated comeliness.

The speeding wheels trundled the dying body

Until it caught upon a half-burnt tree-stump,

Sharp as a stake, which pierced the groin and held him

Transfixed; and while the man hung there impaled,

The car stood still, the horses at a loss

Checked by the accident. Then they break loose,

Even though they break their master. Now half dead

His flesh is ripped by brambles, gored by spines

Of thorny thickets, broken into pieces

Hanging on every tree. And sadly now

His servants and companions search the ground

Wherever the long trail of blood marks out

The passage of the torn and dragged Hippolytus.

The dogs join in the melancholy chase

Tracking the fragments of their master's body.

But still the efforts of the searching mourners

Have not recovered all the corpse. That beauty,

That form, to come to this! That youth, resplendent

Beside his royal father, star ascendant,

Heir to the throne – now they are gathering him

In scattered remnants to his resting-place

Upon a funeral pyre.

THESEUS
:                  O potent nature,

How strong a bond of blood is thine to tie

A parent's heart! Even against our will

We know and love thee. As my son was guilty,

I wished him dead; as he is lost, I mourn him.

MESSENGER
: What he has willed, no man may rightly mourn.

THESEUS
: This is the very summit of calamity,

When fate makes us demand what we must loathe.

MESSENGER
: If you still harbour hate, why are you weeping?

THESEUS
: I weep, not that I lost, but that I killed him.

What awful revolutions accident

    Brings in the lives of men!

    Truly the hand of Fate

Is kinder to the humble; punishment

    From heaven falls less heavily

    On those of less estate.

Peace and obscurity make most content,

In lowly homes old age sleeps easily.

    The highest mountain-tops

Catch every wind that blows, from east, from south,

    The wild assaults of Boreas,

        And rains of Corus.

Green valleys seldom feel the stroke of thunder,
¹

    But the high Caucasus

And Phrygian forests of the Mother Goddess

    Quake at the voice of Jupiter

    And fear his armoury.

    For Jupiter is on his guard

And strikes whatever comes too near the sky.

    The thunder rumbles round his throne,

But no great harm can come to common folk

        Who dwell in modest homes.

The wings of time fly unpredictably,

Fate hurries on, and keeps no promises.

Here was a man, returning thankfully

To look upon bright day and starry sky

After his sojourn in the dark; what sorrow

Greets his homecoming! In his father's house

He has received a welcome far more woeful

    Than in the pit of hell.

Pallas, whom all the Attic race adore:

Theseus thy son has come back from the dead

And lives to see the heaven above; but thou,

Pure goddess, owest no recompense for this

To thy stern uncle's grasping hand; death's king

Has still his victim, and the debt is paid.

CHORUS
: A voice crying from the high palace! What!

Phaedra comes, sword in hand, distraught. Ah, why?…

    [
Enter Phaedra
]

THESEUS
: What is this madness, woman, crazed with grief, Why come you with a sword and loud lament

Over a body which you hate?

PHAEDRA
:                                On me,

On me let the deep ocean's angry lord

Let fall his wrath! Let all the blue sea's monsters,

All that were ever brought to birth afar

In the deep lap of Tethys, all that Ocean

Bears in the farthest tides of his wild waters,

Come against me. O Theseus, ever cruel!

Never a bringer of joy on your return

To those that waited for you; first a father,
¹

And now a son, have, died for your homecoming.

For love of one wife, hatred of another,

Guilty in both, you have destroyed your house.

    [
The remains of Hippolytus have been brought back
]

Hippolytus! Is this how I must find you?

Is this what I have made of you? What creature –

Some Sinis, some Procrustes? – Cretan bull

Bellowing in a Daedalian labyrinth,

Horned hybrid – can have torn you into pieces?

Alas, where now is all your beauty gone,

And where those eyes that were my stars? Can I

Believe you dead? Come back a little while,

And hear me speak to you – I'll speak no shame.

Then with this hand I'll pay my debt to you;

Into this wicked heart I'll thrust the sword

That shall set Phaedra free from life and sin.

So through the waters, through the Stygian stream

And the Tartarean lake, and burning rivers,
¹

I shall still follow you, mad for your love.

Here is my offering for the dead… this veil…

And from my wounded brow this lock of hair.…

Take them. Although we could not live as one,

We can still die together.…

                                            Die then, Phaedra;

If thou art undefiled, die for thy husband;

If thou hast sinned, die for thy love. For how

Could I again approach my husband's bed

Now that such evil has dishonoured it?

This would have been the crowning sin, to ask,

As if repentant, to be loved again.

O Death, sole remedy for errant love,

O Death, lost honour's only ornament,

To thee I fly; receive me in thy mercy.

But hear this first, O Athens; hear this, father –

But more malevolent than any stepmother –

I told you lies, alleged untruthfully

The offence on which my own mad heart was set.

You, father, punished where there was no need.

The innocent boy, charged with inchastity,

Lies dead, untouched by sin, untouched by shame.

Hippolytus, be vindicated now!

My guilty breast awaits the avenging sword;

My blood is shed to pay the dues of death

For one who never sinned. Father, your son

Is taken from you; let his stepmother

Teach you your duty now: begone to Hades!

    [
She kills herself
]

THESEUS
: Hide me, O prison of pale Death! Hide me, ye caves

Of Taenarus, and Lethe's river, for whose arms

The miserable yearn! Let your dank waters drown

My sins, sink my iniquity in endless pain!

Come, sea, come, savage monsters of the main, come all

The brood of Proteus from the ocean's farthest deep.

For having triumphed in my evil victory

Let me be dragged down to the bottom of the sea!

Father, too ready hast thou been to lend thy ear

To my impetuous prayers; how can I now deserve

Merciful death, when I have sent my son to die

As none have died before, when I have torn his body

And scattered it afield, when I, making myself

The ruthless punisher of a fictitious crime,

Have thrown upon myself the veritable guilt?

Hell, heaven, and ocean I have sated with my sins;

Known in three worlds, there is no fourth estate for me.

    Did I return for this? Was I allowed

A way back to this light, only to see

Death twice, two violent deaths, lose wife and son

And with one torch kindle the funeral pyres

Of one I loved and one whom I begot?

This light that is my darkness, Hercules,

You won for me. Let Dis take back his gift!

Let me rejoin the dead!… Blasphemous prayer –

And vain – to ask a second chance of death.

Devise your own fit sentence, man of blood!

You have a skill in murder, have invented

Wondrous devices of terrible destruction.

How should I do it?… a pine-branch bent to the ground,

Pegged down, then loosed, to fly into the air,

Ripping a body in half, like a sawn plank?

Or the steep drop from the Scironian cliffs?
¹

Or worse things, such as I myself have seen

Men suffer under Phlegethon, damned souls

Imprisoned in a sea of fire. I know

What punishment, what resting-place, awaits me.

Sinners in hell, resign your tasks to me!

The stone of aged Sisyphus shall rest

Upon these shoulders, these two hands shall toil

Under the weight of it. Elusive water,

Just out of reach, shall tantalize these lips.

The deadly vulture shall leave Tityos alone

And fly at me, mine shall those entrails be

That grow for ever to supply fresh food

For suffering. The father
²
of my friend

Peirithous shall rest, and in his place

My body shall be carried round and round

Upon the ever-turning wheel. Be opened,

Earth! And receive me, awful emptiness!

This time my journey to the shadow world

Will have just cause: I go to seek my son.

King of the dead, have no more fear of me;

I come with pure intent. Make me a guest

In your eternal home, where I shall stay

For ever.… Ah, the gods are deaf to prayers –

Yet they would answer readily enough

If I were praying for some evil purpose.

CHORUS
: Theseus, time without end is time enough

For your lament. Now let due rites be done

In your son's honour; let us put away

This vilely ravaged and dismembered body.

THESEUS
: Yes, bring your burden, bring me those remains

Of his beloved body, though the parts

Be heaped in no right order. Can this be

Hippolytus? Oh, what a sin was mine!

I murdered you; and more, as if one crime

Were not enough, nor I alone to blame,

I had to ask my father for his aid

In plotting this vile act against my son.

Now I can thank him for his generosity!…

What sorrow can be greater than bereavement

At life's dead end? Unhappy man,

Take in your arms these relics, all you have

That was your son! Kneel and embrace these limbs

And take them to your sorrow-laden breast.

CHORUS
: You, sir, shall set in order these remains

Of your son's broken body, and restore

The mingled fragments to their place. Put here

His strong right hand… and here the left,

Which used to hold the reins so skilfully.…

I recognize the shape of this left side.

Alas, how much of him is lost, and lies

Far from our weeping!

THESEUS
:                     Trembling hands, be firm

For this sad service; cheeks, dry up your tears!

Here is a father building, limb by limb,

A body for his son.… Here is a piece,

Misshapen, horrible, each side of it

Injured and torn. What part of you it is

I cannot tell, but it is part of you.

So… put it there… not where it ought to be,

But where there is a place for it. Was this

The face that shone as brightly as a star,

The face that turned all enemies' eyes aside?

Has so much beauty come to this? O cruelty

Of Fate! O kindness, ill-bestowed, of gods!

See how a father's prayer brought back his son!…

    Receive these last gifts from your father's hand;

These, as each part of you is borne to burial,

Shall go into the fire.…

                                    Open the doors

Of this polluted palace, fouled with blood!

Let there be lamentation loud and full

Through all this Attic land!… Let some prepare

The royal pyre; others, search the fields

For any portions of the corpse still lost.…

    This one… let a deep pit of earth conceal,

And soil lie heavy on her cursed head.

Exeunt