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Medea Notes

Medea Notes Would that the Argo had never winged its way to the land of Colchis through the dark-blue Symplegades!1 Would that the pine trees had never been felled in the glens of Mount Pelion and furnished oars for the hands [5] of the heroes who at Pelias' command set forth in quest of the Golden Fleece! For then my lady Medea would not have sailed to the towers of Iolcus, her heart smitten with love for Jason, or persuaded the daughters of Pelias to kill [10] their father and hence now be inhabiting this land of Corinth, *separated from her loved ones and country. At first, to be sure, she had, even in Corinth, a good life*2 with her husband and children, an exile loved by the citizens to whose land she had come, and lending to Jason himself all her support. This it is that most rescues life from trouble, [15] when a woman is not at variance with her husband. But now all is enmity, and love's bonds are diseased. For Jason, abandoning his own children and my mistress, is bedding down in a royal match, having married the daughter of Creon, ruler of this land. [20] Poor Medea, finding herself thus cast aside, calls loudly on his oaths, invokes the mighty assurance of his sworn right hand, and calls the gods to witness the unjust return she is getting from Jason. She lies fasting, giving her body up to pain, [25] wasting away in tears all the time ever since she learned that she was wronged by her husband, neither lifting her face nor taking her eyes from the ground. She is as deaf to the advice of her friends as a stone or a wave of the sea: [30] she is silent unless perchance to turn her snow-white neck and weep to herself for her dear father and her country and her ancestral house. All these she abandoned when she came here with a man who has now cast her aside. The poor woman has learned at misfortune's hand [35] what a good thing it is not to be cut off from one's native land. She loathes the children and takes no joy in looking at them. And I am afraid that she will hatch some sinister plan. For she has a terrible temper and will not put up with bad treatment (I know her), and I fear [40] she may thrust a whetted sword through her vitals, [slipping quietly into the house where the bed is spread,] or kill the royal family and the bride-groom and then win some greater calamity. For she is dangerous. I tell you, no man who clashes with her [45] will find it easy to crow in victory. Enter Tutor by Eisodos A, escorting the two sons of Jason and Medea. But see, her boys are coming home after their games. They have no thought of their mother's troubles: it is not usual for young minds to dwell on grief. 1 The Symplegades, mobile rocks that clashed together to crush any ships running between them, guarded the entrance to the Hellespont and prevented passage between East and West until the Argo managed by a clever ruse to get through. 2 This gives the probable sense of the lacuna. Oh, what a wretch am I, how miserable in my sorrows! Ah ah, how I wish I could die! Just as I said, dear children. Your mother is stirring up her feelings, stirring up her anger. [100] Go quickly into the house, and do not come into her sight or approach her, but beware of her fierce nature and the hatefulness of her wilful temper. [105] Go inside as quickly as you can. Exit Tutor and children into the house. It is plain that she will soon kindle with even greater passion the cloud of lament now rising from its source: what will her proud soul, so hard to check, [110] do when stung by this injury? Oh, what sufferings are mine, sufferings that call for loud lamentation! O accursed children of a hateful mother, may you perish with your father and the whole house collapse in ruin! [115] Oh, woe is me! Why do you make the children sharers in their father's sin? Why do you hate them? O children, how terrified I am that you may come to harm. The minds of royalty are dangerous: [120] since they often command and seldom obey, they are subject to violent changes of mood. For it is better to be accustomed to live on terms of equality. At any rate, may I be able to grow old in modest state and with security. [125] For moderate fortune has a name that is fairest on the tongue, and in practice it is by far the most beneficial thing for mortals. But excessive riches mean no advantage for mortals, and when a god is angry at a house, [130] they make the ruin greater. Enter Medea with the Nurse from the house. Women of Corinth, I have come out of the house [215] lest you find some fault with me. For I know that though many mortals are haughty both in private and in public, others get a reputation for indifference to their neighbors from their retiring manner of life. There is no justice in mortals' eyes [220] since before they get sure knowledge of a man's true character they hate him on sight, although he has done them no harm. Now a foreigner must be quite compliant with the city, nor do I have any words of praise for the citizen who is stubborn and causes his fellow-citizens pain by his lack of breeding. [225] In my case, however, this sudden blow that has struck me has destroyed my life. I am undone, I have resigned all joy in life, and I want to die. For the man in whom all I had was bound up, as I well know--my husband--has proved the basest of men. [230] Of all creatures that have breath and sensation, we women are the most unfortunate. First at an exorbitant price we must buy a husband and master of our bodies. [This misfortune is more painful than misfortune.] [235] And the outcome of our life's striving hangs on this, whether we take a bad or a good husband. For divorce is discreditable for women and it is not possible to refuse wedlock. And when a woman comes into the new customs and practices of her husband's house, she must somehow divine, since she has not learned it at home, [240] how she shall best deal with her husband. If after we have spent great efforts on these tasks our husbands live with us without resenting the marriage-yoke, our life is enviable. Otherwise, death is preferable. A man, whenever he is annoyed with the company of those in the house, [245] goes elsewhere and thus rids his soul of its boredom [turning to some male friend or age-mate]. But we must fix our gaze on one person only. Men say that we live a life free from danger at home while they fight with the spear. [250] How wrong they are! I would rather stand three times with a shield in battle than give birth once. [410] Backward to their sources flow the streams of holy rivers, and the order of all things is reversed: men's thoughts have become deceitful and their oaths by the gods do not hold fast. [415] The common talk will so alter that women's ways will enjoy good repute. Honor is coming to the female sex: no more will women be maligned [420] by slanderous rumor. Not now for the first time but often before I have seen what an impossible evil to deal with is a fierce temper. Although you could have kept this land and this house by patiently bearing with your superiors' arrangements, [450] you will be exiled because of your foolish talk. Not that it bothers me: go on, if you like, calling Jason the basest man alive. But as for your words against the ruling family, count yourself lucky that your punishment is exile. [455] For my part I have always tried to soothe the king's angry temper, and I wanted you to stay. But you would not cease from your folly and always kept reviling the ruling house. For that you will be exiled. Still, even after this I have not failed my loved ones [460] but have come here in your interests, woman, so that you might not go into exile with your children penniless or in need of anything: exile brings many hardships with it. Even if you hate me, I could never bear you ill-will. [465] Vilest of knaves--for that is the worst insult my tongue can speak against your lack of manly worth--have you really come to see me when you have made yourself my worst enemy [to the gods, to me, and to the whole human race]? This is not boldness or courage-- [470] to wrong your loved ones and then look them in the face--but the worst of all mortal vices, shamelessness. But you did well to come, for it will relieve my feelings to tell you how wicked you are, and you will be stung by what I have to say. [475] I shall begin my speech from the beginning. I saved your life--as witness all the Greeks who went on board the Argo with you--when you were sent to master the fire-breathing bulls with a yoke and to sow the field of death. [480] The dragon who kept watch over the Golden Fleece, sleeplessly guarding it with his sinuous coils, I killed, and I raised aloft for you the fair light of escape from death. Of my own accord I abandoned my father and my home and came with you to Iolcus under Pelion, [485] showing more love than sense. I murdered Pelias by the most horrible of deaths--at the hand of his own daughters--and I destroyed his whole house. And after such benefits from me, o basest of men, you have betrayed me and have taken a new marriage, [490] though we had children. For if you were still childless, your desire for this marriage would be understandable. Loves that come to us in excess bring no good name or goodness to men. [630] If Aphrodite comes in moderation, no other goddess brings such happiness. Never, o goddess, may you smear with desire one of your ineluctable arrows and let it fly against my heart [635] from your golden bow! Enter by Eisodos A Aegeus, the aged king of Athens, in travelling costume. Medea, I wish you joy: no one knows a better way than this to address a friend. [665] Joy to you as well, Aegeus, son of wise Pandion! Where have you come from to be visiting the soil of this land? I have come from the ancient oracle of Phoebus. Why did you go to earth's prophetic center? To inquire how I might get offspring. [670] Have you really lived so long a life without children? I am childless: it is the act of some god. Have you a wife, or have you no experience of marriage? I am not without a wife to share my bed. What then did Phoebus tell you about children? [675] Words too wise for mortal to interpret. Is it lawful for me to hear the response? Most certainly: it calls for a wise mind. What then did the god say? Tell me, if it is lawful to hear. ‘Do not the wineskin's salient foot untie. . .' [680] Until you do what or come to what country? '. . .until you come to hearth and home again.’1 And what were you in need of that you sailed to this land? There is a man named Pittheus, king of Trozen. The son of Pelops and a man most pious, they say. [685] It is with him that I wish to share the god's response. The man is wise and experienced in such matters. What is more, he is closest of all my allies. Well good luck attend you, and may you obtain what you desire. 1 Aegeus is bidden in the oracle's riddling terms not to have sexual intercourse before he reaches home. In the usual version of the legend, Aegeus does have intercourse with Aethra, daughter of Pittheus, in Trozen and thus begets Theseus. But the oracle, which may be Euripides' own invention, clearly does not belong with this story, for how could Aegeus beget a son if he violated the oracle's instructions? When Aegeus departs at the end of this scene, he seems bound for Athens, not Trozen. From ancient times the sons of Erechtheus have been favored; [825] they are children of the blessed gods sprung from a holy land never pillaged by the enemy. They feed on wisdom most glorious, always stepping gracefully [830] through the bright air, where once, they say, the nine Pierian Muses gave birth to fair-haired Harmonia. Enter Medea from the house, then Jason by Eisodos B accompanied by the Nurse. I have come at your bidding. For though you hate me, you will not fail to obtain a hearing from me. What further do you wish from me, woman? Jason, I beg you to forgive [870] what I said: it is reasonable for you to put up with my anger since many acts of love have passed between us in the past. I have talked with myself and reproached myself thus: ‘Foolish creature, why am I raving and fighting those who plan things for the best? [875] Why am I making myself an enemy to the rulers of this land and to my husband, who is acting in my interests by marrying a princess and begetting brothers for my children? Shall I not cease from my wrath (what has come over me?) when the gods are being so kind? [880] Do I not have the children? Is it not true that we are exiles and in need of friends?’ These reflections have made me realize that I was being very foolish and was being angry for nothing. So now I approve and I agree that you are acting with sober sense [885] by contracting this marriage-alliance for us. It is I who am the fool, since I ought to be sharing in your plans, helping you carry them out, standing by the marriage-bed, and taking joy in the match I was making with your bride. But we women are, I will not say bad creatures, [890] but we are what we are. So you ought not to imitate our nature or return our childishness with childishness. I give in: I admit that I was foolish then, but now I have taken a better view of the matter. Children, children, come here, leave the house, [895] come out, The children enter from the house with the Tutor. greet your father, speak to him with me, and join your mother in making an end to our former hostility against one dear to us. We have made a truce, and our wrath has vanished. Take his right hand. Ah, how I think [900] of something the future keeps hid! My children, will you continue all your lives long to stretch out your dear hands so? Unhappy me! How prone to tears I am, how full of foreboding. And as I now at long last make up the quarrel with your father, [905] my tender eyes are filled with tears. From my eyes too a pale tear starts. May misfortune go no further than it has! Now no more can I hope that the children shall live, no more. For already they are walking the road to murder. The bride will accept, will accept, unhappy woman, ruin in the form of a golden diadem; [980] about her fair hair with her own hand she will place the finery of Death. Enter the Tutor with the children by Eisodos B. My lady, your sons here have been reprieved from exile, and the princess has been pleased to take the gifts into her hands. From that quarter the children have peace. Ah! [1005] Why are you standing in distress when your fortune is good? [Why have you turned your face away and why do you show no pleasure at this news?] This is not in tune with my tidings. Do I in ignorance report some mishap [1010] and wrongly think my news is good? You have reported what you have reported. I find no fault with you. Why then is your face downcast? Why do you weep? I have every reason, old man. The gods, and I in my madness, have contrived it so. [1015] Cheer up: one day your children will bring you home. Before that there are others I shall bring home,1 wretch that I am. You are not the only woman to be separated from her children. We mortals must bear misfortune with resignation. I will do so. But go into the house [1020] and provide the children with their daily needs. My children, my children, you have a city and a home,2 in which, leaving your poor mother behind, you will live henceforth, bereft of me. But I shall go to another land as an exile [1025] before I have the enjoyment of you and see you happy, before I have tended to your baths3 and wives and marriage-beds and held the wedding-torches aloft. How wretched my self-will has made me! It was all in vain, I see, that I brought you up, [1030] all in vain that I labored and was wracked with toils, enduring harsh pains in childbirth. Truly, many were the hopes that I, poor fool, once had in you, that you would tend me in my old age and when I died dress me for burial with your own hands, [1035] an enviable fate for mortals. But now this sweet imagining has perished. For bereft of you I shall live out my life in pain and grief. And you will no longer see your mother with loving eyes but pass into another manner of life. [1040] Oh! What is the meaning of your glance at me, children? Why do you smile at me this last smile of yours? Alas, what am I to do? My courage is gone, women, ever since I saw the bright faces of the children. I cannot do it. Farewell, my former [1045] designs! I shall take my children out of the land. Why should I wound their father with their pain and win for myself pain twice as great? I shall not: farewell, my designs! 1 The grim word-play is untranslatable: katag�means both ‘bring home (from exile)’ and ‘bring down.’ 2 To the children this means Corinth, to Medea it means the nether world. Such veiled discourse is characteristic of this speech, with the exception of the bracketed section below. 3 A special bath for the bride and the groom preceded the wedding. O earth, o ray of the Sun that lightens all, turn your gaze, o turn it to this ruinous woman before she lays her bloody murderous hands upon her children! [1255] They are sprung from your race of gold, and it is a fearful thing for the blood of a god to be spilt upon the ground by the hands of mortal men. O light begotten of Zeus, check the cruel and murderous Fury, take her from this house [1260] plagued by spirits of vengeance.1 1 The Chorus see in the murder the work of an Erinys (Fury), one of the punishing divinities usually thought of as under the control of Zeus. That human agents may be sometimes regarded as embodying this spirit or serving as its unconscious agent is clear from Aesch. Ag. 749 and Eur. Tro. 457. You women who stand near the house, is Medea inside, she who has done these dreadful deeds, [1295] or has she fled? She will have to hide herself beneath the earth or soar aloft to heaven if she is not going to give satisfaction to the royal house. Does she think that having killed this land's ruling family [1300] she will escape from this house unscathed? But it is not so much about her that I am concerned as about the children. She will be punished by those she has wronged, but I have come to save my children's life, that no harm may come to them from the next of kin, [1305] avenging on them their mother's impious crime. Poor Jason, you have no idea how far gone you are in misfortune. Else you would not have spoken these words. What is it? Surely she does not mean to kill me as well? Your children are dead, killed by their mother's hand. [1310] What can you mean? You have destroyed me, woman. You must realize that your children are no more. Where did she kill them? In the house or outside? Open the gates and you will see your slaughtered sons. Servants, remove the bar at once [1315] so that I may see a double disaster, these children's corpses *and her who did the deed, so that for these children's murder*1 I may exact punishment. Jason tries to open the doors of the house. Medea appears aloft in a winged chariot upon the mechane, which rises from behind the skene. Why do you rattle these gates and try to unbar them, in search of the corpses and me who did the deed? Cease your toil. If you need anything from me, [1320] speak if you like. But your hand can never touch me: such is the chariot Helios my grandfather has given me to ward off a hostile hand. 1 I give the probable sense of the lacuna. Bibliography:

Word Count: 3742