Hippolytus; The Bacchae Part 1

Hippolytus/The Bacchae.

by Euripides.

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

Euripides, the youngest of the trio of great Greek tragedians was born at Salamis in 480 B.C., on the day when the Greeks won their momentous naval victory there over the fleet of the Persians. The precise social status of his parents is not clear but he received a good education, was early distinguished as an athlete, and showed talent in painting and oratory. He was a fellow student of Pericles, and his dramas show the influence of the philosophical ideas of Anaxagoras and of Socrates, with whom he was personally intimate. Like Socrates, he was accused of impiety, and this, along with domestic infelicity, has been supposed to afford a motive for his withdrawal from Athens, first to Magnesia and later to the court of Anchelaus in Macedonia where he died in 406 B.C.

The first tragedy of Euripides was produced when he was about twenty-five, and he was several times a victor in the tragic contests. In spite of the antagonisms which he aroused and the criticisms which were hurled upon him in, for example, the comedies of Aristophanes, he attained a very great popularity; and Plutarch tells that those Athenians who were taken captive in the disastrous Sicilian expedition of 413 B.C. were offered freedom by their captors if they could recite from the works of Euripides. Of the hundred and twenty dramas ascribed to Euripides, there have come down to us complete eighteen tragedies and one satyric drama, "Cyclops," beside numerous fragments.

The works of Euripides are generally regarded as showing the beginning of the decline of Greek tragedy. The idea of Fate hitherto dominant in the plays of his predecessors, tends to be degraded by him into mere chance; the characters lose much of their ideal quality; and even G.o.ds and heroes are represented as moved by the petty motives of ordinary humanity. The chorus is often quite detached from the action; the poetry is florid; and the action is frequently tinged with sensationalism. In spite of all this, Euripides remains a great poet; and his picturesqueness and tendencies to what are now called realism and romanticism, while marking his inferiority to the chaste cla.s.sicism of Sophocles, bring him more easily within the sympathetic interest of the modern reader.

APHRODITE Great among men, and not unnamed am I, The Cyprian, in G.o.d's inmost halls on high.

And wheresoe'er from Pontus to the far Red West men dwell, and see the glad day-star, And worship Me, the pious heart I bless, And wreck that life that lives in stubbornness.

For that there is, even in a great G.o.d's mind, That hungereth for the praise of human kind.

So runs my word; and soon the very deed Shall follow. For this Prince of Theseus' seed, Hippolytus, child of that dead Amazon, And reared by saintly Pittheus in his own Strait ways, hath dared, alone of all Trozen, To hold me least of spirits and most mean, And spurns my spell and seeks no woman's kiss, But great Apollo's sister, Artemis, He holds of all most high, gives love and praise, And through the wild dark woods for ever strays, He and the Maid together, with swift hounds To slay all angry beasts from out these bounds, To more than mortal friendship consecrate!

I grudge it not. No grudge know I, nor hate; Yet, seeing he hath offended, I this day Shall smite Hippolytus. Long since my way Was opened, nor needs now much labour more.

For once from Pittheus' castle to the sh.o.r.e Of Athens came Hippolytus over-seas Seeking the vision of the Mysteries.

And Phaedra there, his father's Queen high-born; Saw him, and as she saw, her heart was torn With great love, by the working of my will.

And for his sake, long since, on Pallas' hill, Deep in the rock, that Love no more might roam, She built a shrine, and named it _Love-at-home_: And the rock held it, but its face alway Seeks Trozen o'er the seas. Then came the day When Theseus, for the blood of kinsmen shed, Spake doom of exile on himself, and fled, Phaedra beside him, even to this Trozen.

And here that grievous and amazed Queen, Wounded and wondering, with ne'er a word, Wastes slowly; and her secret none hath heard Nor dreamed.

But never thus this love shall end!

To Theseus' ear some whisper will I send, And all be bare! And that proud Prince, my foe, His sire shall slay with curses. Even so Endeth that boon the great Lord of the Main To Theseus gave, the Three Prayers not in vain.

And she, not in dishonour, yet shall die.

I would not rate this woman's pain so high As not to pay mine haters in full fee That vengeance that shall make all well with me.

But soft, here comes he, striding from the chase, Our Prince Hippolytus!--I will go my ways.-- And hunters at his heels: and a loud throng Glorying Artemis with praise and song!

Little he knows that h.e.l.l's gates opened are, And this his last look on the great Day-star!

[APHRODITE _withdraws, unseen by_ HIPPOLYTUS _and a band of huntsmen, who enter from the left, singing.

They pa.s.s the Statue of_ APHRODITE _without notice._]

HIPPOLYTUS Follow, O follow me, Singing on your ways Her in whose hand are we, Her whose own flock we be, The Zeus-Child, the Heavenly; To Artemis be praise!

HUNTSMAN Hail to thee, Maiden blest, Proudest and holiest: G.o.d's Daughter, great in bliss, Leto-born, Artemis!

Hail to thee, Maiden, far Fairest of all that are, Yea, and most high thine home, Child of the Father's hall; Hear, O most virginal, Hear, O most fair of all, In high G.o.d's golden dome.

[_The huntsmen have gathered about the altar of_ ARTEMIS.

HIPPOLYTUS _now advances from them, and approaches the Statue with a wreath in his hand._]

HIPPOLYTUS To thee this wreathed garland, from a green And virgin meadow bear I, O my Queen, Where never shepherd leads his grazing ewes Nor scythe has touched. Only the river dews Gleam, and the spring bee sings, and in the glade Hath Solitude her mystic garden made.

No evil hand may cull it: only he Whose heart hath known the heart of Purity, Unlearned of man, and true whate'er befall.

Take therefore from pure hands this coronal, O mistress loved, thy golden hair to twine.

For, sole of living men, this grace is mine, To dwell with thee, and speak, and hear replies Of voice divine, though none may see thine eyes.

Oh, keep me to the end in this same road!

[_An_ OLD HUNTSMAN, _who has stood apart from the rest, here comes up to_ HIPPOLYTUS.]

HUNTSMAN My Prince--for "Master" name I none but G.o.d-- Gave I good counsel, wouldst thou welcome it?

HIPPOLYTUS Right gladly, friend; else were I poor of wit.

HUNTSMAN Knowest thou one law, that through the world has won?

HIPPOLYTUS What wouldst thou? And how runs thy law? Say on.

HUNTSMAN It hates that Pride that speaks not all men fair!

HIPPOLYTUS And rightly. Pride breeds hatred everywhere.

HUNTSMAN And good words love, and grace in all men's sight?

HIPPOLYTUS Aye, and much gain withal, for trouble slight.

HUNTSMAN How deem'st thou of the G.o.ds? Are they the same?

HIPPOLYTUS Surely: we are but fashioned on their frame.

HUNTSMAN Why then wilt thou be proud, and worship not ...

HIPPOLYTUS Whom? If the name be speakable, speak out!

HUNTSMAN She stands here at thy gate: the Cyprian Queen!

HIPPOLYTUS I greet her from afar: my life is clean.

HUNTSMAN Clean? Nay, proud, proud; a mark for all to scan!

HIPPOLYTUS Each mind hath its own bent, for G.o.d or man.

HUNTSMAN G.o.d grant thee happiness ... and wiser thought!

HIPPOLYTUS These Spirits that reign in darkness like me not.

HUNTSMAN What the G.o.ds ask, O Son, that man must pay!

HIPPOLYTUS (_turning from him to the others_).

On, huntsmen, to the Castle! Make your way Straight to the feast room; 'tis a merry thing After the chase, a board of banqueting.

And see the steeds be groomed, and in array The chariot dight. I drive them forth to-day [_He pauses, and makes a slight gesture of reverence to the Statue on the left. Then to the_ OLD HUNTSMAN.]

That for thy Cyprian, friend, and nought beside!

[HIPPOLYTUS _follows the huntsmen, who stream by the central door in the Castle. The_ OLD HUNTSMAN _remains_.]

HUNTSMAN (_approaching the Statue and kneeling_) O Cyprian--for a young man in his pride I will not follow!--here before thee, meek, In that one language that a slave may speak, I pray thee; Oh, if some wild heart in froth Of youth surges against thee, be not wroth For ever! Nay, be far and hear not then: G.o.ds should be gentler and more wise than men!