Antonio G. Garbin Antigone 247

Der Wächter.

Erst laß dir sagen, was mich selbst betrifft: die That

Verübt' ich nicht, noch sah ich, wer der Thäter war;

Und nur mit Unrecht widerführe mir ein Leid.

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Kreon.

Du zielst behutsam und verschanzest dich geschickt

Ringsher; du bringst uns, seh' ich wohl, ein schweres Wort.

Der Wächter.

Das Arge freilich regt die Furcht gewaltig auf.

Kreon.

Nun, wirst du reden endlich und dann weiter geh'n?

Der Wächter.

Wohlan, so sag' ich's: Einer, der sofort verschwand,

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Begrub den Todten eben, hat mit trocknem Staub

Bestreut den Leichnam, und geweiht, was üblich ist.

Kreon.

Was sagst du? Wer auf Erden hat sich deß erkühnt?

Der Wächter.

Ich weiß es nicht; denn weder eines Beiles Hieb

War dort, noch einer Hacke Wurf, der Boden dicht

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Und fest und bruchlos, auch mit Wagenrädern nicht

Befahren; spurlos blieb es, wer der Thäter war.

Und wie es uns der erste Tageswächter zeigt, ¹

Erschien es Allen unerklärlich wunderbar.

Die Leiche war verschwunden, nicht begraben zwar;

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Dünn, wie den Fluch zu meiden, lag der Staub darauf. ²

Von einem Raubthier oder Hund war keine Spur,

Die hergekommen und an ihr herumgezerrt.

Nun schollen böse Reden auf einander los,

Der Wächter zich den Wächter; wohl auch endet' es

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Zulezt mit Schlägen; Keiner war zu wehren da.

Denn Einer wie der Andre war der Thäter hier,

Und Keiner überführbar; Jeder stritt es ab.

Mit Händen fassen wollten wir ein glühend Erz, ³

Durch Feuer gehen, schwören bei den Göttern selbst,

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Daß wir es nicht verübten noch im Bunde sei'n

Mit Einem, der's ersonnen oder ausgeführt.

Am Ende, da kein Forschen mehr uns weiter half,

Sprach Einer, der uns alle zwang, vor Furcht das Haupt

Zur Erd' hinabzusenken denn wir wußten nicht

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Zu widersprechen, noch wiefern wir, thäten wir's,

Uns helfen könnten dieser rieth, man müsse dir

Die Sache hinterbringen, nicht verheimlichen.

Und seine Meinung siegte: mich Unseligen

Verdammt zu diesem schönen Glück des Looses Wurf.

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Nun steh' ich hier, nicht willig vor Unwilligen:

Niemand ja liebt den Boten unwillkommner Mähr.

Der Chor.

Creon

My fellow citizens! First, the gods, after tossing the fate of our city on wild waves, have once more righted it. Second, I have ordered you through my messengers to come here

apart from all the rest, because I knew, first of all, how constant was your reverence for the power of the throne of Laius; how, again, you were reverent, when Oedipus was guiding our city; and lastly, how, when he was dead, you still maintained loyal thoughts towards his children.

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Since, then, these latter have fallen in one day by a twofold doom—each striking, each struck, both with the stain of a brother’s murder—I now possess all the power and the throne according to my kinship with the dead.

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Now, it is impossible to know fully any man’s character, will, or judgment, until he has been proved by the test of rule and law-giving. For if anyone who directs the entire city does not cling to the best and wisest plans,

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but because of some fear keeps his lips locked, then, in my judgment, he is and has long been the most cowardly traitor. And if any man thinks a friend more important than his fatherland, that man, I say, is of no account. Zeus, god who sees all things always, be my witness—

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I would not be silent if I saw ruin, instead of safety, marching upon the citizens. Nor would I ever make a man who is hostile to my country a friend to myself, because I know this, that our country is the ship that bears us safe, and that only when

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we sail her on a straight course can we make true friends. Such are the rules by which I strengthen this city. Akin to these is the edict which I have now published to the citizenry concerning the sons of Oedipus: Eteocles, who fell fighting

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in behalf of our city and who excelled all in battle, they shall entomb and heap up every sacred offering that descends to the noblest of the dead below. But as for his brother, Polyneices, I mean, who on his return from exile wanted to burn to the ground

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the city of his fathers and his race’s gods, and wanted to feed on kindred blood and lead the remnant into slavery—it has been proclaimed to the city that no one shall give him funeral honors or lamentation,

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but all must leave him unburied and a sight of shame, with his body there for birds and dogs to eat. This is my will, and never will I allow the traitor to stand in honor before the just. But whoever has good will to Thebes ,

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he shall be honored by me in death as in life.

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Chorus

That is your will, Creon, towards this city’s enemy and its friend. And the power is yours, I believe, to make use of every law whatsoever, both concerning the dead and all us who live.

Creon

See, then, that you be guardians of my commands.

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Chorus

Lay the weight of this task on some younger man.

Creon

That is not what I meant—the guards for the corpse are already in place.

Chorus

Then what is this other command that you would give?

Creon

That you not give way to the breakers of my commands.

Chorus

There is no one so foolish as to crave death.

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Creon

I assure you, that is the wage for disobedience. Yet by just the hope of it, money has many times corrupted men.

Guard

My king, I will not say that I arrive breathless because of speed, or from the action of a swift foot.

For often I brought myself to a stop because of my thoughts, and wheeled round in my path to return. My mind was telling me many things: Fool, why do you go to where your arrival will mean your punishment? Idiot, are you dallying again? If Creon learns it from another, must you not suffer for it?

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So debating, I made my way unhurriedly, slow, and thus a short road was made long. At last, however, the view prevailed that I should come here—to you. Even if my report brings no good, still will I tell you,

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since I come with a good grip on one hope, that I can suffer nothing except what is my fate.

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Creon

And what is it that so disheartens you?

Guard

I want to tell you first about myself—I did not do the deed, nor did I see the doer,

so it would be wrong that I should come to any harm.

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Creon

Like a bowman you aim well at your target from a distance, and all around you hedge yourself off well from the deed. It is clear that you have some unheard-of thing to tell.

Guard

That I do, for terrible news imposes great hesitation.

Creon

Then tell it, will you, and so unburdened go away?

Guard

Well, here it is. The corpse—some one has just given it burial and disappeared after sprinkling thirsty dust on the flesh and performing the other rites that piety demands.

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Creon

What are you saying? What man dared do this?

Guard

I do not know. For there was no scar of a pickax to be seen there,

no earth thrown up by a mattock. The ground was hard and dry, unbroken, not rolled over by wheels. The doer was someone who left no trace. When the first day-watchman showed it to us, a discomforting amazement fell on us all.

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The dead man was veiled from us—not shut within a tomb, but a light cover of dust was on him, as if put there by the hand of one who shunned a curse. And no sign was visible that any beast of prey or any dog had approached or torn him. Then evil words flew thick and loud among us,

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guard accusing guard. It would even have come to blows in the end, nor was there anyone there to prevent it: every man was the culprit, and no one was plainly guilty, while all disclaimed knowledge of the act. We were ready to take red-hot iron in our hands,

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to walk through fire and to swear oaths by the gods that we had neither done the deed, nor shared knowledge of the planning or the doing. At last, when our investigating got us nowhere, someone spoke up and made us all bend our faces

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in fear towards the earth. For we did not know how we could argue with him, nor yet prosper, if we did what he said. His argument was that the deed must be reported to you and not hidden. This view prevailed, and so it was that

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the lot doomed miserable me to win this prize. So here I stand, as unwelcome to you as I am unwilling, I well know. For no man delights in the bearer of bad news.

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Chorus

My king, my thoughts have long been deliberating whether this deed is somehow the work of gods?

Creon

Quiet, before your words truly fill me with rage, so that you not be found at the same time foolish as well as old. You say what is intolerable when you claim that the gods have concern for that corpse. Was it in high esteem for his benefactions

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that they sought to hide him, when he had come to burn their columned shrines, their sacred treasures and their land, and scatter its laws to the winds? Or do you see the gods honoring the wicked? It cannot be. No! From the very first

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certain men of the city were chafing at this edict and muttering against me, tossing their heads in secret, and they did not keep their necks duly under the yoke in submission to me. By those men, I am certain, they were led astray and bribed to do this deed.

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Nothing so evil as money ever grew to be current among men. This destroys cities, this drives men from their homes, this trains and warps honest minds to set themselves to works of shame,

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this teaches people to practise villainies, and to know every act of unholiness. But all the men who did this job for hire have made sure that, sooner or later, they shall suffer the punishment. Now, as Zeus still has my reverence, know this well—

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I tell you on my oath. If you do not find the very hand that made this burial, and reveal him before my eyes, mere death shall not suffice for you, not before, hung up alive, you have made this outrage plain,

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so that hereafter you may thieve with better knowledge of where your money should be received from, and learn that it is best not to be fond of money-making from any and every source. For you will find that ill-gotten gains bring more men to ruin than to safety.

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Guard

Will you allow me to speak? Or shall I just turn and go?

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Creon

Do you not know even now how much your voice sickens me?

Guard

Is the pain in your ears, or in your soul?

Creon

And why would you define the seat of my pain?

Guard

He who did it hurts your heart, but I, your ears.

Creon

God! How plain it is that you are a born babbler.

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Guard

Perhaps, but never the author of this action.

Creon

Yes, and what is more, you sold your life for silver.

Guard

Ah! It is truly sad when the judge judges wrong .

Creon

Expound on judgment as you will. But, if you fail to

show me the perpetrators of these crimes, you will avow that money basely earned wreaks sorrows. Exit Creon.

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Guard

Well, may the man be found! That would be best. But, whether he be caught or not—for fortune must decide that—I assure you that you will not see me come here again.

Saved just now beyond hope and belief, I owe the gods great thanks. Exit the Guard.

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