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Menelaus
Behold I bring thy son with me, whom thou didst steal away to a neighbour’s house
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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Behold I bring thy son with me, whom thou didst steal away to a neighbour’s house
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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Andromache
O fame, fame! full many a man ere
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
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by thy daughter, and she work her will on me,
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
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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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O fame, fame! full many a man ere
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
320
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
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by thy daughter, and she work her will on me,
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
335
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
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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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Chorus
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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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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Menelaus
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.
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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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.
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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Andromache
Ah me! ’tis a bitter lot thou art offering about my
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
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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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remember me, my sufferings and my death, and tell thy father how I fared, with fond caress and streaming eye and arms thrown round his neck. Ah! yes, his children are to every man as his own soul; and
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whoso sneers at this through inexperience,
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though he suffers less anguish, yet tastes the bitter in his cup of bliss.
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Ah me! ’tis a bitter lot thou art offering about my
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
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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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remember me, my sufferings and my death, and tell thy father how I fared, with fond caress and streaming eye and arms thrown round his neck. Ah! yes, his children are to every man as his own soul; and
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whoso sneers at this through inexperience,
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though he suffers less anguish, yet tastes the bitter in his cup of bliss.
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Chorus
Thy tale with pity fills me; for every man alike, stranger though he be, feels pity for another’s distress. Menelaus, ’tis thy duty to reconcile thy daughter and this captive, giving her a respite from sorrow.
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Thy tale with pity fills me; for every man alike, stranger though he be, feels pity for another’s distress. Menelaus, ’tis thy duty to reconcile thy daughter and this captive, giving her a respite from sorrow.
Menelaus
Ho! sirrahs, catch me this woman; hold her fast; for ’tis no welcome story she will have to hear. It was to make thee leave the holy altar of the goddess that I held thy child’s death before thy eyes, and so induced thee to give thyself up to me to die.
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So stands thy case, be well assured; but as for this child, my daughter shall decide whether she will slay him or no. Get thee hence into the house, and there learn to bridle thy insolence in speaking to the free, slave that thou art.
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Ho! sirrahs, catch me this woman; hold her fast; for ’tis no welcome story she will have to hear. It was to make thee leave the holy altar of the goddess that I held thy child’s death before thy eyes, and so induced thee to give thyself up to me to die.
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So stands thy case, be well assured; but as for this child, my daughter shall decide whether she will slay him or no. Get thee hence into the house, and there learn to bridle thy insolence in speaking to the free, slave that thou art.
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Andromache
Alas! thou hast by treachery beguiled me; I was deceived.
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Alas! thou hast by treachery beguiled me; I was deceived.
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Menelaus
Proclaim it to the world; I do not deny it
Proclaim it to the world; I do not deny it
Andromache
Is this counted cleverness amongst you who dwell by the Eurotas?
Is this counted cleverness amongst you who dwell by the Eurotas?
Menelaus
Yes, and amongst Trojans too, that those who suffer should retaliate.
Yes, and amongst Trojans too, that those who suffer should retaliate.
Andromache
Thinkest thou God’s hand is shortened, and that thou wilt not be punished?
Thinkest thou God’s hand is shortened, and that thou wilt not be punished?
Menelaus
Whene’er that comes, I am ready to bear it. But thy life will I have.
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Whene’er that comes, I am ready to bear it. But thy life will I have.
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Andromache
Wilt likewise slay this tender chick, whom thou hast snatched from ’neath my wing?
Wilt likewise slay this tender chick, whom thou hast snatched from ’neath my wing?
Menelaus
Not I, but I will give him to my daughter to slay if she will.
Not I, but I will give him to my daughter to slay if she will.
Andromache
Ah me! why not begin my mourning then for thee, my child?
Ah me! why not begin my mourning then for thee, my child?
Menelaus
Of a truth ’tis no very sure hope that he has left.
Of a truth ’tis no very sure hope that he has left.
Andromache
O citizens of Sparta, the bane of all the race of men, schemers of guile, and masters in lying, devisers of evil plots, with crooked minds and tortuous methods and ne’er one honest thought, ’tis wrong that ye should thrive in Hellas.
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What crime is wanting in your list? How rife is murder with you! How covetous ye are! One word upon your lips, another in your heart, this is what men always find with you. Perdition catch ye! Still death is not so grievous, as
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thou thinkest, to me. No! for my life ended
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in the day that hapless Troy was destroyed with my lord, that glorious warrior, whose spear oft made a coward like thee quit the field and seek thy ship. But now against a woman hast thou displayed the terrors of thy panoply, my would-be murderer. Strike then! for this
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my tongue shall never flatter thee or that daughter of thine. For though thou wert of great account in Sparta, why so was I in Troy. And if I am now in sorry plight, presume not thou on this; thou too mayst be so yet.
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O citizens of Sparta, the bane of all the race of men, schemers of guile, and masters in lying, devisers of evil plots, with crooked minds and tortuous methods and ne’er one honest thought, ’tis wrong that ye should thrive in Hellas.
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What crime is wanting in your list? How rife is murder with you! How covetous ye are! One word upon your lips, another in your heart, this is what men always find with you. Perdition catch ye! Still death is not so grievous, as
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thou thinkest, to me. No! for my life ended
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in the day that hapless Troy was destroyed with my lord, that glorious warrior, whose spear oft made a coward like thee quit the field and seek thy ship. But now against a woman hast thou displayed the terrors of thy panoply, my would-be murderer. Strike then! for this
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my tongue shall never flatter thee or that daughter of thine. For though thou wert of great account in Sparta, why so was I in Troy. And if I am now in sorry plight, presume not thou on this; thou too mayst be so yet.
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Andromache. Euripides. Edward P. Coleridge (Translator). London. 1891.
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