Andromache

Perseus Greek · Perseus Greek · 394 sections

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’Twas no bride Paris took with him to the towers of Ilium, but a curse to his bed when he brought Helen to her bower.
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For her sake, O Troy, did eager warriors, sailing from Hellas in a thousand ships, capture and make thee a prey to fire and sword; and the son of sea-born Thetis mounted on his chariot dragged my husband Hector round the walls, ah woe is me! while I was hurried from my chamber to the beach,
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with slavery’s hateful pall upon me. And many a tear I shed as I left my city, my bridal bower, and my husband in the dust. Woe, woe is me! why should I prolong my life, to serve Hermione? Her cruelty it is that drives me hither
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to the image of the goddess to throw my suppliant arms about it, melting to tears as doth a spring that gushes from the rock.
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Lady, thus keeping thy weary station without pause upon the floor of Thetis’ shrine, Phthian though I am, to thee a daughter of Asia I come,
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to see if I can devise some remedy for these perplexing troubles, which have involved thee and Hermione in fell discord, because to thy sorrow thou
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sharest with her the love of Achilles’ son.
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Recognize thy position, weigh the present evil into the which thou art come. Thou art a Trojan captive; thy rival is thy mistress, a true-born daughter of Sparta. Leave then
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this home of sacrifice, the shrine of our sea-goddess. How can it avail thee to waste thy comeliness and disfigure it by weeping by reason of a mistress’s harsh usage? Might will prevail against thee; why vainly toil in thy feebleness?
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Come, quit the bright sanctuary of the Nereid divine. Recognize that thou art in bondage on a foreign soil, in a strange city, where thou seest none of all thy friends, luckless lady,
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cast on evil days.
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Yea, I did pity thee most truly, Trojan dame, when thou earnest to this house; but from fear of my mistress I hold my peace, albeit I sympathize with thee,
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lest she, whom Zeus’s daughter bore, discover my good will toward thee.
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With a crown of golden workmanship upon my head and about my body this embroidered robe am I come hither; no presents these I wear from the palace of Achilles or Peleus,
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but gifts my father Menelaus gave me together with a sumptuous dower from Sparta in Laconia, to insure me freedom of speech. Such is my answer to you;
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but as for thee, slave and captive, thou wouldst fain oust me and secure this palace for thyself, and thanks to thy enchantment I am hated by my husband; thou it is that hast made my womb barren and cheated my hopes; for Asia’s daughters have clever heads for such villainy;
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yet will I check thee therefrom, nor shall this temple of the Nereid avail thee aught, no! neither its altar or shrine, but thou shalt die. But if or god or man should haply wish to save thee, thou must atone for thy proud thoughts of happier days now past
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by humbling thyself and crouching prostrate at my knees, by sweeping out my halls, and by learning, as thou sprinklest water from a golden ewer, where thou now art. Here is no Hector, no Priam with his gold, but a city of Hellas.
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Yet thou, miserable woman, hast gone so far in wantonness that thou canst lay thee down with the son of the very man that slew thy husband, and bear children to the murderer. Such is all the race of barbarians; father and daughter, mother and son,
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sister and brother mate together; the nearest and dearest stain their path with each others blood, and no law restrains such horrors. Bring not these crimes amongst us, for here we count it shame that one man should have the control of two wives, and men are content to turn their attention to one lawful love,
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that is, all who care to live an honourable life.
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Women are by nature somewhat jealous, and do ever show the keenest hate to rivals in their love.
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Ah! well-a-day! Youth is a bane to mortals,
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in every case, that is, where a man embraces injustice in his early days. Now I am afraid that my being a slave will prevent thee listening to me in spite of many a just plea, or if I win my case, I fear I may be damaged on this very ground, for the high and mighty cannot brook refuting arguments
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from their inferiors; still I will not be convicted of betraying my own cause. Tell me, proud young wife, what assurance can make me confident of wresting from thee thy lawful lord? Is it that Laconias capital yields to Phrygia?
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is it that my fortune outstrips thine? or that in me thou seest a free woman? Am I so elated by my youth, my full healthy figure, the extent of my city, the number of my friends that I wish to supplant thee in thy home? Is my purpose to take thy place and rear myself a race
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of slaves, mere appendages to my misery? or, supposing thou bear no children, will any one endure that sons of mine should rule oer Phthia? Ah no! there is the love that Hellas bears me, both for Hectors sake and for my own humble rank forsooth, that never knew a queens estate in Troy.
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’Tis not my sorcery that makes thy husband hate thee, nay, but thy own failure to prove thyself his help-meet. Herein lies love’s only charm tis not beauty, lady, but virtuous acts that win our husbands’ hearts. And though it gall thee to be told so, albeit thy city in Laconia
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is no doubt a mighty fact, yet thou findest no place for his Scyros, displaying wealth ’midst poverty and setting Menelaus above Achilles: and that is what alienates thy lord. Take heed; for a woman, though bestowed upon a worthless husband, must be with him content, and ne’er advance presumptuous claims.
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Suppose thou hadst wedded a prince of Thrace, the land of flood and melting snow, where one lord shares his affections with a host of wives, wouldst thou have slain them? If so, thou wouldst have set a stigma of insatiate lust on all our sex.
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A shameful charge! And yet herein we suffer more than men, though we make a good stand against it. Ah! my dear lord Hector, for thy sake would I e’en brook a rival, if ever Cypris led thee astray, and oft in days gone by I held thy bastard babes to my own breast,
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to spare thee any cause for grief. By this course I bound my husband to me by virtue’s chains, whereas thou wilt never so much as let the drops of dew from heaven above settle on thy lord, in thy jealous fear.
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Oh! seek not to surpass thy mother in hankering after men, for ’tis well that all wise children should avoid the habits of such evil mothers.
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Mistress mine, be persuaded to come to terms with her, as far as readily comes within thy power.
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Why this haughty tone, this bandying of words, as if, forsooth, thou, not I, wert the virtuous wife?
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Thy present claims at any rate give thee small title thereto.
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Woman, may my bosom never harbour such ideas as thine!
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Thou art young to speak on so delicate a subject.
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As for thee, thou dost not speak thereof but, as thou canst, dost put it into action against me.
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Canst thou not conceal thy pangs of jealousy?
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What! doth not every woman put this first of all?
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Yes, if her experiences are happy; otherwise, there is no honour in speaking of them.
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Barbarians’ laws are not a standard for our city.
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Alike in Asia and in Hellas infamy attends base actions.
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Clever, clever quibbler! yet die thou must and shalt.
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Dost see the image of Thetis with her eye upon thee?
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A bitter foe to thy country because of the death of Achilles.
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’Twas not I that slew him, but Helen that mother of thine.
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Pray, is it thy intention to probe my wounds yet deeper?
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Behold, I am dumb, my lips are closed.
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Tell me that which was my only reason for coming hither.
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No! all I tell thee is, thou hast less wisdom than thou needest.
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Wilt thou leave these hallowed precincts of the sea-goddess?
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Yes, if I am not to die for it; otherwise, I never will.
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Since that is thy resolve, I shall not even wait my lord’s return.
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Nor yet will I, at any rate ere that, surrender to thee.
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I will bring fire to bear on thee, and pay no heed to thy entreaties.
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Kindle thy blaze then; the gods will witness it.
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And make thy flesh to writhe by cruel wounds.
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Begin thy butchery, stain the altar of the goddess with blood, for she will visit thy iniquity.
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Barbarian creature, hardened in impudence, wilt thou brave death itself? Still will I find speedy means to make thee quit this seat of thy free-will; such a bait have I to lure thee with. But I will hide my meaning,
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which the event itself shall soon declare. Yes, keep thy seat, for I will make thee rise, though molten lead is holding thee there, before Achilles’ son, thy trusted champion, arrive. Exit Hermione.
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My trusted champion, yes! how strange it is, that, though some god hath devised cures for mortals against the venom of reptiles, no man ever yet hath discovered aught to cure a woman’s venom, which is far worse than viper’s sting or scorching flame; so terrible a curse are we to mankind.
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Ah! what sorrows did the son of Zeus and Maia herald,
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in the day he came to Ida’s glen, guiding that fair young trio of goddesses, all girded for the fray in bitter rivalry about their beauty,
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to the shepherd’s fold, where dwelt the youthful herdsman all alone by the hearth of his lonely hut.
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Soon as they reached the wooded glen, in gushing mountain
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springs they bathed their dazzling skin, then sought the son of Priam, comparing their rival charms in more than rancorous phrase. But Cypris won the day by her deceitful promises,
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sweet-sounding words, but fraught with ruthless overthrow to Phrygia’s hapless town and Ilium’s towers.
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Would God his mother had smitten him a cruel death-blow on the head before he made his home on Ida’s
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slopes, in the hour Cassandra, standing by the holy bay-tree, cried out, Slay him, for he will bring most grievous bane on Priam’s town. To every prince she went, to every elder sued
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for the babe’s destruction.
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Ah! had they listened, Ilium’s daughters ne’er had felt the yoke of slavery, and thou, lady, hadst been established in the royal palace; and Hellas had been freed of all the anguish
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she suffered during those ten long years her sons went wandering, spear in hand, around the walls of Troy; brides had never been left desolate, nor hoary fathers childless.
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Behold I bring thy son with me, whom thou didst steal away to a neighbour’s house
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without my daughter’s knowledge. Thou wert so sure this image of the goddess would protect thee and those who hid him, but thou hast not proved clever enough for Menelaus. And so if thou refuse to leave thy station here,
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he shall be slain instead of thee. Wherefore weigh it well: wilt die thyself, or see him slain for the sin whereof thou art guilty against me and my daughter?
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O fame, fame! full many a man ere
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now of no account hast thou to high estate exalted. Those, indeed, who truly have a fair repute, I count blest; but those who get it by false pretences, I will never allow have aught but the accidental appearance of wisdom. Thou for instance, caitiff that thou art, didst thou ever wrest
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Troy from Priam with thy picked troops of Hellenes? thou that hast raised such a storm, at the word of thy daughter, a mere child, and hast entered the lists with a poor captive; unworthy I count thee of Troy’s capture, and Troy still more disgraced by thy victory.
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Those who only in appearance are men of sense make an outward show, but inwardly resemble the common herd, save it be in wealth, which is their chiefest strength.
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Come now, Menelaus, let us discuss this argument. Suppose I am slain by thy daughter, and she work her will on me,
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yet can she never escape the pollution of murder, and public opinion will make thee too an accomplice in this deed of blood, for thy share in the business must needs implicate thee. But even supposing I escape death myself, will ye kill my child? Even then, how will his father
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brook the murder of his child? Troy has no such coward’s tale to tell of him; nay, he will follow duty’s call; his actions will prove him a worthy scion of Peleus and Achilles. Thy daughter will he thrust forth from his house; and what wilt thou
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say when seeking to betroth her to another? wilt say her virtue made her leave a worthless lord? Nay, that will be false. Who then will wed her? wilt thou keep her without a husband in thy halls, grown grey in widowhood? Unhappy wretch! dost not see the flood-gates of trouble opening wide for thee?
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How many a wrong against a wife wouldst thou prefer thy daughter to have found to suffering what I now describe? We ought not on trifling grounds to promote serious mischief; nor should men, if we women are so deadly a curse, bring their nature down to our level.
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No! if, as thy daughter asserts, I am practising sorcery against her and making her barren, right willingly will I, without any crouching at altars, submit in my own person to the penalty that lies in her husband’s hands,
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seeing that I am no less chargeable with injuring him if I make him childless. This is my case; but for thee, there is one thing I fear in thy disposition; it was a quarrel for a woman that really induced thee to destroy poor Ilium’s town.
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Thou hast said too much for a woman speaking to men. that discretion hath shot away its last shaft from thy soul’s quiver.
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Woman, these are petty matters, unworthy, as thou sayest, of my despotic sway, unworthy too of Hellas. Yet mark this well; his special fancy of the hour is of more moment to a man than Troy’s capture.
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I then have set myself to help my daughter because I consider her loss of a wife’s rights a grave matter; for whatever else a woman suffers is secondary to this; if she loses her husband’s love she loses her life therewith. Now, as it is right Neoptolemus should rule my slaves,
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so my friends and I should have control of his; for friends, if they be really friends, keep nothing to themselves, but have all in common. So if I wait for the absent instead of making the best arrangement I can at once of my affairs, I show weakness, not wisdom.
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Arise then, leave the goddess’s shrine, for by thy death this child escapeth his, whereas, if thou refuse to die, I will slay him; for one of you twain must perish.
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Ah me! ’tis a bitter lot thou art offering about my
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life; whether I take it or not I am equally unfortunate. Attend to me, thou who for a trifling cause art committing an awful crime. Why art thou bent on slaying me? What reason hast thou? What city have I betrayed? Which of thy children was ever slain by me?
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What house have I fired? I was forced to be my master’s concubine; and spite of that wilt thou slay me, not him who is to blame, passing by the cause and hurrying to the inevitable result? Ah me! my sorrows! Woe for my hapless country!
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How cruel my fate! Why had I to be a mother too and take upon me a double load of suffering? Yet why do I mourn the past, and o’er the present never shed a tear or compute its griefs? I that saw Hector butchered and dragged behind the chariot,
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and Ilium, piteous sight! one sheet of flame, while I was haled away by the hair of my head to the Argive ships in I slavery, and on my arrival in Phthia was assigned to Hector’s murderer as his mistress. What pleasure then has life for me? Whither am I to turn my gaze?
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to the present or the past? My babe alone was left me, the light of my life; and him these ministers of death would slay. No! they shall not, if my poor life can save him; for if he be saved, hope in him lives on,
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while to ’twere shame to refuse to die for my son. Lo! here I leave the altar and give myself into your hands, to cut or stab, to bind or hang. Ah! my child, to Hades now thy mother passes to save thy dear life. Yet if thou escape thy doom,

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