Hecuba

Perseus Greek · Perseus Greek · 426 sections

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To a servant And you are to draw near my Thracian friend and say, Hecuba, once queen of Ilium, summons you, on your own business no less than hers, your children too, for they also must hear what she has to say. The servant goes out. Defer awhile, Agamemnon,
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the burial of Polyxena lately slain, so that brother and sister may be laid on the same pyre and buried side by side, a double cause of sorrow to their mother.
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So shall it be; yet if the army were able to sail, I could not have granted you this favor;
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but as it is, for the god sends forth no favoring breeze, the army must wait and look for a calm voyage. Good luck to you, for this is the interest alike of individual and state, that the wrong-doer be punished and the good man prosper. Agamemnon departs as Hecuba withdraws into the tent.
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No more, my native Ilium, shall you be counted among the towns never sacked; so thick a cloud of Hellene troops is settling all around, wasting you with the spear;
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you are shorn of your crown of towers, and fouled most piteously with filthy soot; no more, ah me! shall I tread your streets.
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It was in the middle of the night my ruin came,
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in the hour when sleep steals sweetly over the eyes after the feast is done. After the music and dancing, my husband had brought the sacrifice to an end and was lying in our bridal-chamber,
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his spear hung on a peg; with never a thought of the sailor-throng encamped upon the Trojan shores.
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And I was braiding my tresses beneath a tight-drawn head-band
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before my golden mirror’s countless rays, so that I might lie down to rest; when through the city rose a din, and a cry went ringing down the streets of Troy: You
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sons of Hellas, when, oh! when will you sack the citadel of Ilium, and seek your homes?
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I left my bed, wearing only a tunic, like a Dorian girl,
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and sought in vain, ah me! to station myself at the holy hearth of Artemis; for, after seeing my husband slain, I was led away over the broad sea; with many a backward look at my city,
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when the ship began her homeward voyage and parted me from Ilium’s strand; till alas! for very grief I fainted,
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Cursing Helen the sister of the Dioscuri, and Paris the baleful shepherd of Ida;
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for it was their marriage, which was no marriage but misery sent by some demon, that robbed me of my country and drove me from my home.
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Oh! may the sea’s salt flood never carry her home again; and may she never set foot in her father’s halls!
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Like one who slips and falls into the surge with no haven near, so shall you lose your own life for the life you have taken. For where liability to justice coincides with heaven’s law;
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there is ruin full of death and doom. Your hopes of this journey shall cheat you, for it has led you, unhappy wretch! to the halls of death; and to no warrior’s hand shall you resign your life.
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O horror! I am blinded of the light of my eyes, ah me!
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Did you hear, friends, that Thracian’s cry of woe?
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O horror! horror! my children! 0 the cruel blow.
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Friends, there is strange mischief afoot in yo.
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No, you shall never escape for all your hurried flight;
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for with a blow I will burst open the inmost recesses of this building.
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Hark! how he launches a bolt with weighty hand! Shall we force an entry? The crisis calls on us to aid Hecuba and the Trojan women.
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Strike on, spare not, burst the doors!
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you shall never replace bright vision in your eyes or see your children, whom I have slain, alive again.
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What! have you foiled the Thracian stranger and is he in your power, mistress? Is all your threat now brought to pass?
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A moment, and you shall see him before the tent,
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blind, advancing with blind random step; and the bodies of his two children whom I with my brave women of Troy killed; he has paid me the penalty; here he comes from the tent, as you see. I will withdraw out of his path and stand aside
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from the hot fury of the Thracian, my deadly foe.
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Woe is me! where can I go, where halt, or turn? shall I crawl like a wild four-footed beast on their track, as my reward? Which path shall I take first,
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this or that, eager as I am to clutch those Trojan murderesses that have destroyed me? You wretched, cursed daughters
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of Phrygia! to what corner have you fled cowering before me? O sun-god, would you could heal, could heal my bleeding eyes, ridding me of my blindness!
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Ha! hush! I catch the stealthy footsteps of the women here. Where can I dart on them and gorge on their flesh and bones, making for myself a wild beasts’ meal, inflicting mutilation
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in requital of their outrage on me? Ah, woe is me! where am I rushing, leaving my children unguarded for maenads of hell to mangle, to be murdered and ruthlessly cast forth upon the hills, a feast of blood for dogs?
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Where shall I stay or turn my steps, like a ship that lies anchored at sea, gathering close my linen robe and rushing to that chamber of death, to guard my children?
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Woe to you! what grievous outrage has been done to you! a fearful penalty for your foul deed has the deity imposed, whoever he is whose hand is heavy upon you.
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Woe is me! Ho! my Thracian spearmen, armed,
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a race of knights whom Ares inspires! Ho! Achaeans! sons of Atreus! To you I loudly call; come here, by the gods! Does any one hearken, or will no one help me? Why do you delay? Women, captive women have destroyed me.
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A fearful fate is mine; ah me! my hideous outrage! Where can I turn or go?
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Shall I take wings and soar aloft to the mansions of the sky, where Orion and Sirius dart from their eyes
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a flash as of fire, or shall I, in my misery, plunge to Hades’ murky flood?
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It is pardonable, for a man suffering from evils too heavy to bear, to rid himself of a wretched existence.
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Hearing a cry I have come here; for Echo,
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child of the mountain-rock, has sent her voice loud-ringing through the army, causing a tumult. If we had not known that Troy’s towers were levelled by the might of Hellas, this uproar would have caused no slight panic.
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Best of friends! for by your voice I know you,
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Agamemnon; do you see my piteous state?
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What! hapless Polymestor, who has stricken you? who has blinded your eyes, staining the pupils with blood? who has slain these children? whoever he was, fierce must have been his wrath against you and your children.
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Hecuba, helped by the captive women, has destroyed me—not destroyed, far worse than that.
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What do you say? Was it you that did this deed, as he says? You, Hecuba, that have ventured on this inconceivable daring?
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Ha! what is that? is she somewhere near?
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Show me, tell me where, that I may grip her in my hands and rend her limb from limb, bespattering her with gore.
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You creature, what are you about?
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By the gods I entreat you, let me vent on her the fury of my arm.
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Hold! banish that savage spirit from your heart
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and plead your cause, so that after hearing you and her in turn I may fairly decide what reason there is for your present sufferings.
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I will tell my tale. There was a son of Priam, Polydorus, the youngest, a child by Hecuba, whom his father Priam sent to me from Troy to bring up in my halls,
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suspecting no doubt the fall of Troy. I killed him; but hear my reason for killing him, how cleverly and wisely I had thought it out. My fear was that if that child were left to be your enemy, he would repeople Troy and settle it afresh;
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and the Achaeans, knowing that a son of Priam survived, might bring another expedition against the Phrygian land, and then harry and lay waste these plains of Thrace, for the neighbours of Troy to experience the very troubles we were lately suffering, O king.
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Now Hecuba, having discovered the death of her son, brought me here on the following pretext, saying she would tell me of hidden treasure stored up in Ilium by the race of Priam; and she led me apart with my children into the tent, that no other might hear her news.
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So I sat down on a couch in their midst to rest; for there were many of the Trojan maidens seated there, some on my right hand, some on my left, as if beside a friend; and they were praising the weaving of our Edonian handiwork, looking at this robe as they held it up to the light;
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while others examined my Thracian spear and so stripped me of two-fold protection. And those that were young mothers were dandling my children in their arms, with loud admiration, as they passed them on from hand to hand to remove them far from their father;
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and then after their smooth speeches—would you believe it?—in an instant snatching daggers from somewhere in their dress they stab my children; while others, like foes, seized me hand and foot;
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and if I tried to raise my head, anxious to help my children, they would clutch me by the hair; while if I stirred my hands, I could do nothing, poor wretch! for the numbers of the women. At last they did a fearful deed, worse than what had gone before; for they took their brooches
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and stabbed the hapless pupils of my eyes, making them gush with blood, and then fled through the chambers; up I sprang like a wild beast in pursuit of the shameless murderesses, searching along each wall with hunter’s care,
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dealing buffets, spreading ruin. This then is what I have suffered because of my zeal for you, Agamemnon, for slaying an enemy of yours. But to spare you a lengthy speech, if any of the men of former times have spoken ill of women, if any does so now, or shall do so hereafter,
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I will say all this in one short sentence; for neither land or sea produces such a race, as whoever has had to do with them knows.
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Curb your bold tongue, and do not, because of your own woes, thus embrace the whole race of women in one reproach.
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For though some of us, and those a numerous class, deserve to be disliked, there are others among us who rank naturally among the good.
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Never ought words to have outweighed deeds in this world, Agamemnon. No! if a man’s deeds were good, so should his words have been;
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if, on the other hand, evil, his words should have been unsound, instead of its being possible at times to speak injustice well. There are, it is true, clever persons, who have made a science of this, but their cleverness cannot last for ever; a miserable end awaits them; no one ever yet escaped.
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This part of my prelude belongs to you. Now will I turn to this fellow, and will give you your answer, you who say it was to save Achaea double toil and for Agamemnon’s sake that you killed my son. No, villain, in the first place
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the barbarian race would never be friends with Hellas, nor could it be. Again, what interest did you have to further by your zeal? was it to form some marriage, or on the score of kinship, or what reason? or was it likely that they would sail here again and destroy
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your country’s crops? Whom do you expect to persuade into believing that? If you would only speak the truth, it was the gold that slew my son, and your greedy spirit. Now tell me this: why, when Troy was victorious, when her ramparts still stood round her,
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when Priam was alive, and Hector’s warring prospered, why did you not then, if you were really minded to do Agamemnon a service, slay the child, for you had him in your palace beneath your care, or bring him with you alive to the Argives? But when the enemy took us from the light
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and our city made a signal by its smoke, you murdered the guest who had come to your hearth.
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Furthermore, to prove your villainy, hear this; if you were really a friend to those Achaeans, you should have brought the gold, which you say you are keeping not for yourself but for this man,
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and given it to them, for they were in need and had endured a long exile from their native land. But not even now can you bring yourself to part with it, but persist in keeping it in your palace. Again, had you kept my son safe and sound, as your duty was,
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a fair renown would have been your reward, for it is in trouble’s hour that the good most clearly show their friendship; though prosperity by itself in every case finds friends. If you were in need of money and he were prosperous, that son of mine would have been as a mighty treasure for you to draw upon;
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but now you have him no longer to be your friend, and the benefit of the gold is gone from you, your children too, and you yourself are in this sorry plight. I say to you, Agamemnon, if you help this man, you will show your worthlessness; for you will be serving a guest-friend neither pious nor to be trusted where he should be,
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not devout, not just; while I shall say you delight in evil-doers, being such a one yourself; but I do not abuse my masters.
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Ah! how a good cause always affords men an opening for a good speech.
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To be judge in a stranger’s troubles goes much against my grain, but still I must; yes, for to take this matter in hand and then put it from me is a shameful course. My opinion, that you may know it, is that it was not for the sake of the Achaeans or me that you killed your guest,
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but to keep that gold in your own house. In your trouble you make a case in your own interests. Perhaps among you it is a light thing to murder guests, but with us in Hellas it is a disgrace. How can I escape reproach if I judge you not guilty?
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I could not. No, since you endured your horrid crime, endure as well its painful consequence.
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Woe is me! worsted by a woman and a slave, I am, it seems, to suffer by unworthy hands.
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Is it not just for your atrocious crime?
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Ah, my children! ah, my blinded eyes! woe is me!
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You grieve; but what of me? Do you think I do not grieve for my son?
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You wicked wretch! Is your delight in mocking me?
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Yes, for I am avenged on you; have I not cause for delight?
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It will soon cease, when ocean’s flood—
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Shall convey me to the shores of Hellas?
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No, but will close over you when you fall from the masthead.
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Who will force me to take the leap?
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Of your own accord you will climb the ship’s mast.
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With wings upon my back, or by what means?

Perseus Greek. CTS URN tlg0006.tlg007.perseus-eng2. Via the Perseus Digital Library / Open Greek and Latin TEI corpora. Licence: Available under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. Source.