Part 8

ISMENE. To me, Antigone, no word of friends Has come, or glad or grievous, since we twain Were reft of our two brethren in one day By double fratricide; and since i’ the night Our Argive leaguers fled, no later news Has reached me, to inspirit or deject.

ANTIGONE. I know ’twas so, and therefore summoned thee Beyond the gates to breathe it in thine ear.

ISMENE. What is it? Some dark secret stirs thy breast.

ANTIGONE. What but the thought of our two brothers dead, The one by Creon graced with funeral rites, The other disappointed? Eteocles He hath consigned to earth (as fame reports) With obsequies that use and wont ordain, So gracing him among the dead below. But Polyneices, a dishonored corse, (So by report the royal edict runs) No man may bury him or make lament— Must leave him tombless and unwept, a feast For kites to scent afar and swoop upon. Such is the edict (if report speak true) Of Creon, our most noble Creon, aimed At thee and me, aye me too; and anon He will be here to promulgate, for such As have not heard, his mandate; ’tis in sooth No passing humor, for the edict says Whoe’er transgresses shall be stoned to death. So stands it with us; now ’tis thine to show If thou art worthy of thy blood or base.

ISMENE. But how, my rash, fond sister, in such case Can I do anything to make or mar?

ANTIGONE. Say, wilt thou aid me and abet? Decide.

ISMENE. In what bold venture? What is in thy thought?

ANTIGONE. Lend me a hand to bear the corpse away.

ISMENE. What, bury him despite the interdict?

ANTIGONE. My brother, and, though thou deny him, thine No man shall say that _I_ betrayed a brother.

ISMENE. Wilt thou persist, though Creon has forbid?

ANTIGONE. What right has he to keep me from my own?

ISMENE. Bethink thee, sister, of our father’s fate, Abhorred, dishonored, self-convinced of sin, Blinded, himself his executioner. Think of his mother-wife (ill sorted names) Done by a noose herself had twined to death And last, our hapless brethren in one day, Both in a mutual destiny involved, Self-slaughtered, both the slayer and the slain. Bethink thee, sister, we are left alone; Shall we not perish wretchedest of all, If in defiance of the law we cross A monarch’s will?—weak women, think of that, Not framed by nature to contend with men. Remember this too that the stronger rules; We must obey his orders, these or worse. Therefore I plead compulsion and entreat The dead to pardon. I perforce obey The powers that be. ’Tis foolishness, I ween, To overstep in aught the golden mean.

ANTIGONE. I urge no more; nay, wert thou willing still, I would not welcome such a fellowship. Go thine own way; myself will bury him. How sweet to die in such employ, to rest,— Sister and brother linked in love’s embrace— A sinless sinner, banned awhile on earth, But by the dead commended; and with them I shall abide for ever. As for thee, Scorn, if thou wilt, the eternal laws of Heaven.

ISMENE. I scorn them not, but to defy the State Or break her ordinance I have no skill.

ANTIGONE. A specious pretext. I will go alone To lap my dearest brother in the grave.

ISMENE. My poor, fond sister, how I fear for thee!

ANTIGONE. O waste no fears on me; look to thyself.

ISMENE. At least let no man know of thine intent, But keep it close and secret, as will I.

ANTIGONE. O tell it, sister; I shall hate thee more If thou proclaim it not to all the town.

ISMENE. Thou hast a fiery soul for numbing work.

ANTIGONE. I pleasure those whom I would liefest please.

ISMENE. If thou succeed; but thou art doomed to fail.

ANTIGONE. When strength shall fail me, yes, but not before.

ISMENE. But, if the venture’s hopeless, why essay?

ANTIGONE. Sister, forbear, or I shall hate thee soon, And the dead man will hate thee too, with cause. Say I am mad and give my madness rein To wreck itself; the worst that can befall Is but to die an honorable death.

ISMENE. Have thine own way then; ’tis a mad endeavor, Yet to thy lovers thou art dear as ever. [Exeunt]

CHORUS. (Str. 1) Sunbeam, of all that ever dawn upon Our seven-gated Thebes the brightest ray, O eye of golden day, How fair thy light o’er Dirce’s fountain shone, Speeding upon their headlong homeward course, Far quicker than they came, the Argive force; Putting to flight The argent shields, the host with scutcheons white. Against our land the proud invader came To vindicate fell Polyneices’ claim. Like to an eagle swooping low, On pinions white as new fall’n snow. With clanging scream, a horsetail plume his crest, The aspiring lord of Argos onward pressed.

(Ant. 1) Hovering around our city walls he waits, His spearmen raven at our seven gates. But ere a torch our crown of towers could burn, Ere they had tasted of our blood, they turn Forced by the Dragon; in their rear The din of Ares panic-struck they hear. For Zeus who hates the braggart’s boast Beheld that gold-bespangled host; As at the goal the paean they upraise, He struck them with his forked lightning blaze.

(Str. 2) To earthy from earth rebounding, down he crashed; The fire-brand from his impious hand was dashed, As like a Bacchic reveler on he came, Outbreathing hate and flame, And tottered. Elsewhere in the field, Here, there, great Area like a war-horse wheeled; Beneath his car down thrust Our foemen bit the dust.

Seven captains at our seven gates Thundered; for each a champion waits, Each left behind his armor bright, Trophy for Zeus who turns the fight; Save two alone, that ill-starred pair One mother to one father bare, Who lance in rest, one ’gainst the other Drave, and both perished, brother slain by brother.

(Ant. 2) Now Victory to Thebes returns again And smiles upon her chariot-circled plain. Now let feast and festal should Memories of war blot out. Let us to the temples throng, Dance and sing the live night long. God of Thebes, lead thou the round. Bacchus, shaker of the ground! Let us end our revels here; Lo! Creon our new lord draws near, Crowned by this strange chance, our king. What, I marvel, pondering? Why this summons? Wherefore call Us, his elders, one and all, Bidding us with him debate, On some grave concern of State? [Enter CREON]

CREON. Elders, the gods have righted one again Our storm-tossed ship of state, now safe in port. But you by special summons I convened As my most trusted councilors; first, because I knew you loyal to Laius of old; Again, when Oedipus restored our State, Both while he ruled and when his rule was o’er, Ye still were constant to the royal line. Now that his two sons perished in one day, Brother by brother murderously slain, By right of kinship to the Princes dead, I claim and hold the throne and sovereignty. Yet ’tis no easy matter to discern The temper of a man, his mind and will, Till he be proved by exercise of power; And in my case, if one who reigns supreme Swerve from the highest policy, tongue-tied By fear of consequence, that man I hold, And ever held, the basest of the base. And I contemn the man who sets his friend Before his country. For myself, I call To witness Zeus, whose eyes are everywhere, If I perceive some mischievous design To sap the State, I will not hold my tongue; Nor would I reckon as my private friend A public foe, well knowing that the State Is the good ship that holds our fortunes all: Farewell to friendship, if she suffers wreck. Such is the policy by which I seek To serve the Commons and conformably I have proclaimed an edict as concerns The sons of Oedipus; Eteocles Who in his country’s battle fought and fell, The foremost champion—duly bury him With all observances and ceremonies That are the guerdon of the heroic dead. But for the miscreant exile who returned Minded in flames and ashes to blot out His father’s city and his father’s gods, And glut his vengeance with his kinsmen’s blood, Or drag them captive at his chariot wheels— For Polyneices ’tis ordained that none Shall give him burial or make mourn for him, But leave his corpse unburied, to be meat For dogs and carrion crows, a ghastly sight. So am I purposed; never by my will Shall miscreants take precedence of true men, But all good patriots, alive or dead, Shall be by me preferred and honored.

CHORUS. Son of Menoeceus, thus thou will’st to deal With him who loathed and him who loved our State. Thy word is law; thou canst dispose of us The living, as thou will’st, as of the dead.

CREON. See then ye execute what I ordain.

CHORUS. On younger shoulders lay this grievous charge.

CREON. Fear not, I’ve posted guards to watch the corpse.

CHORUS. What further duty would’st thou lay on us?

CREON. Not to connive at disobedience.

CHORUS. No man is mad enough to court his death.

CREON. The penalty _is_ death: yet hope of gain Hath lured men to their ruin oftentimes. [Enter GUARD]

GUARD. My lord, I will not make pretense to pant And puff as some light-footed messenger. In sooth my soul beneath its pack of thought Made many a halt and turned and turned again; For conscience plied her spur and curb by turns. “Why hurry headlong to thy fate, poor fool?” She whispered. Then again, “If Creon learn This from another, thou wilt rue it worse.” Thus leisurely I hastened on my road; Much thought extends a furlong to a league. But in the end the forward voice prevailed, To face thee. I will speak though I say nothing. For plucking courage from despair methought, ‘Let the worst hap, thou canst but meet thy fate.’

CREON. What is thy news? Why this despondency?

GUARD. Let me premise a word about myself? I neither did the deed nor saw it done, Nor were it just that I should come to harm.

CREON. Thou art good at parry, and canst fence about Some matter of grave import, as is plain.

GUARD. The bearer of dread tidings needs must quake.

CREON. Then, sirrah, shoot thy bolt and get thee gone.

GUARD. Well, it must out; the corpse is buried; someone E’en now besprinkled it with thirsty dust, Performed the proper ritual—and was gone.

CREON. What say’st thou? Who hath dared to do this thing?

GUARD. I cannot tell, for there was ne’er a trace Of pick or mattock—hard unbroken ground, Without a scratch or rut of chariot wheels, No sign that human hands had been at work. When the first sentry of the morning watch Gave the alarm, we all were terror-stricken. The corpse had vanished, not interred in earth, But strewn with dust, as if by one who sought To avert the curse that haunts the unburied dead: Of hound or ravening jackal, not a sign. Thereat arose an angry war of words; Guard railed at guard and blows were like to end it, For none was there to part us, each in turn Suspected, but the guilt brought home to none, From lack of evidence. We challenged each The ordeal, or to handle red-hot iron, Or pass through fire, affirming on our oath Our innocence—we neither did the deed Ourselves, nor know who did or compassed it. Our quest was at a standstill, when one spake And bowed us all to earth like quivering reeds, For there was no gainsaying him nor way To escape perdition: _Ye_are_bound_to_tell_ _The_King,_ye_cannot_hide_it; so he spake. And he convinced us all; so lots were cast, And I, unlucky scapegoat, drew the prize. So here I am unwilling and withal Unwelcome; no man cares to hear ill news.

CHORUS. I had misgivings from the first, my liege, Of something more than natural at work.

CREON. O cease, you vex me with your babblement; I am like to think you dote in your old age. Is it not arrant folly to pretend That gods would have a thought for this dead man? Did they forsooth award him special grace, And as some benefactor bury him, Who came to fire their hallowed sanctuaries, To sack their shrines, to desolate their land, And scout their ordinances? Or perchance The gods bestow their favors on the bad. No! no! I have long noted malcontents Who wagged their heads, and kicked against the yoke, Misliking these my orders, and my rule. ’Tis they, I warrant, who suborned my guards By bribes. Of evils current upon earth The worst is money. Money ’tis that sacks Cities, and drives men forth from hearth and home; Warps and seduces native innocence, And breeds a habit of dishonesty. But they who sold themselves shall find their greed Out-shot the mark, and rue it soon or late. Yea, as I still revere the dread of Zeus, By Zeus I swear, except ye find and bring Before my presence here the very man Who carried out this lawless burial, Death for your punishment shall not suffice. Hanged on a cross, alive ye first shall make Confession of this outrage. This will teach you What practices are like to serve your turn. There are some villainies that bring no gain. For by dishonesty the few may thrive, The many come to ruin and disgrace.

GUARD. May I not speak, or must I turn and go Without a word?—

CREON. Begone! canst thou not see That e’en this question irks me?

GUARD. Where, my lord? Is it thy ears that suffer, or thy heart?

CREON. Why seek to probe and find the seat of pain?

GUARD. I gall thine ears—this miscreant thy mind.

CREON. What an inveterate babbler! get thee gone!

GUARD. Babbler perchance, but innocent of the crime.

CREON. Twice guilty, having sold thy soul for gain.

GUARD. Alas! how sad when reasoners reason wrong.

CREON. Go, quibble with thy reason. If thou fail’st To find these malefactors, thou shalt own The wages of ill-gotten gains is death. [Exit CREON]

GUARD. I pray he may be found. But caught or not (And fortune must determine that) thou never Shalt see me here returning; that is sure. For past all hope or thought I have escaped, And for my safety owe the gods much thanks.

CHORUS. (Str. 1) Many wonders there be, but naught more wondrous than man; Over the surging sea, with a whitening south wind wan, Through the foam of the firth, man makes his perilous way; And the eldest of deities Earth that knows not toil nor decay Ever he furrows and scores, as his team, year in year out, With breed of the yoked horse, the ploughshare turneth about.

(Ant. 1) The light-witted birds of the air, the beasts of the weald and the wood He traps with his woven snare, and the brood of the briny flood. Master of cunning he: the savage bull, and the hart Who roams the mountain free, are tamed by his infinite art; And the shaggy rough-maned steed is broken to bear the bit.

(Str. 2) Speech and the wind-swift speed of counsel and civic wit, He hath learnt for himself all these; and the arrowy rain to fly And the nipping airs that freeze, ’neath the open winter sky. He hath provision for all: fell plague he hath learnt to endure; Safe whate’er may befall: yet for death he hath found no cure.

(Ant. 2) Passing the wildest flight thought are the cunning and skill, That guide man now to the light, but now to counsels of ill. If he honors the laws of the land, and reveres the Gods of the State Proudly his city shall stand; but a cityless outcast I rate Whoso bold in his pride from the path of right doth depart; Ne’er may I sit by his side, or share the thoughts of his heart.

What strange vision meets my eyes, Fills me with a wild surprise? Sure I know her, sure ’tis she, The maid Antigone. Hapless child of hapless sire, Didst thou recklessly conspire, Madly brave the King’s decree? Therefore are they haling thee? [Enter GUARD bringing ANTIGONE]

GUARD. Here is the culprit taken in the act Of giving burial. But where’s the King?

CHORUS. There from the palace he returns in time. [Enter CREON]

CREON. Why is my presence timely? What has chanced?

GUARD. No man, my lord, should make a vow, for if He ever swears he will not do a thing, His afterthoughts belie his first resolve. When from the hail-storm of thy threats I fled I sware thou wouldst not see me here again; But the wild rapture of a glad surprise Intoxicates, and so I’m here forsworn. And here’s my prisoner, caught in the very act, Decking the grave. No lottery this time; This prize is mine by right of treasure-trove. So take her, judge her, rack her, if thou wilt. She’s thine, my liege; but I may rightly claim Hence to depart well quit of all these ills.

CREON. Say, how didst thou arrest the maid, and where?

GUARD. Burying the man. There’s nothing more to tell.

CREON. Hast thou thy wits? Or know’st thou what thou say’st?

GUARD. I saw this woman burying the corpse Against thy orders. Is that clear and plain?

CREON. But how was she surprised and caught in the act?

GUARD. It happened thus. No sooner had we come, Driven from thy presence by those awful threats, Than straight we swept away all trace of dust, And bared the clammy body. Then we sat High on the ridge to windward of the stench, While each man kept he fellow alert and rated Roundly the sluggard if he chanced to nap. So all night long we watched, until the sun Stood high in heaven, and his blazing beams Smote us. A sudden whirlwind then upraised A cloud of dust that blotted out the sky, And swept the plain, and stripped the woodlands bare, And shook the firmament. We closed our eyes And waited till the heaven-sent plague should pass. At last it ceased, and lo! there stood this maid. A piercing cry she uttered, sad and shrill, As when the mother bird beholds her nest Robbed of its nestlings; even so the maid Wailed as she saw the body stripped and bare, And cursed the ruffians who had done this deed. Anon she gathered handfuls of dry dust, Then, holding high a well-wrought brazen urn, Thrice on the dead she poured a lustral stream. We at the sight swooped down on her and seized Our quarry. Undismayed she stood, and when We taxed her with the former crime and this, She disowned nothing. I was glad—and grieved; For ’tis most sweet to ’scape oneself scot-free, And yet to bring disaster to a friend Is grievous. Take it all in all, I deem A man’s first duty is to serve himself.

CREON. Speak, girl, with head bent low and downcast eyes, Does thou plead guilty or deny the deed?

ANTIGONE. Guilty. I did it, I deny it not.

CREON (to GUARD) Sirrah, begone whither thou wilt, and thank Thy luck that thou hast ’scaped a heavy charge. (To ANTIGONE) Now answer this plain question, yes or no, Wast thou acquainted with the interdict?

ANTIGONE. I knew, all knew; how should I fail to know?

CREON. And yet wert bold enough to break the law?

ANTIGONE. Yea, for these laws were not ordained of Zeus, And she who sits enthroned with gods below, Justice, enacted not these human laws. Nor did I deem that thou, a mortal man, Could’st by a breath annul and override The immutable unwritten laws of Heaven. They were not born today nor yesterday; They die not; and none knoweth whence they sprang. I was not like, who feared no mortal’s frown, To disobey these laws and so provoke The wrath of Heaven. I knew that I must die, E’en hadst thou not proclaimed it; and if death Is thereby hastened, I shall count it gain. For death is gain to him whose life, like mine, Is full of misery. Thus my lot appears Not sad, but blissful; for had I endured To leave my mother’s son unburied there, I should have grieved with reason, but not now. And if in this thou judgest me a fool, Methinks the judge of folly’s not acquit.

CHORUS. A stubborn daughter of a stubborn sire, This ill-starred maiden kicks against the pricks.

CREON. Well, let her know the stubbornest of wills Are soonest bended, as the hardest iron, O’er-heated in the fire to brittleness, Flies soonest into fragments, shivered through. A snaffle curbs the fieriest steed, and he Who in subjection lives must needs be meek. But this proud girl, in insolence well-schooled, First overstepped the established law, and then— A second and worse act of insolence— She boasts and glories in her wickedness. Now if she thus can flout authority Unpunished, I am woman, she the man. But though she be my sister’s child or nearer Of kin than all who worship at my hearth, Nor she nor yet her sister shall escape The utmost penalty, for both I hold, As arch-conspirators, of equal guilt. Bring forth the older; even now I saw her Within the palace, frenzied and distraught. The workings of the mind discover oft Dark deeds in darkness schemed, before the act. More hateful still the miscreant who seeks When caught, to make a virtue of a crime.

ANTIGONE. Would’st thou do more than slay thy prisoner?

CREON. Not I, thy life is mine, and that’s enough.

ANTIGONE. Why dally then? To me no word of thine Is pleasant: God forbid it e’er should please; Nor am I more acceptable to thee. And yet how otherwise had I achieved A name so glorious as by burying A brother? so my townsmen all would say, Where they not gagged by terror, Manifold A king’s prerogatives, and not the least That all his acts and all his words are law.

CREON. Of all these Thebans none so deems but thou.

ANTIGONE. These think as I, but bate their breath to thee.

CREON. Hast thou no shame to differ from all these?

ANTIGONE. To reverence kith and kin can bring no shame.

CREON. Was his dead foeman not thy kinsman too?

ANTIGONE. One mother bare them and the self-same sire.

CREON. Why cast a slur on one by honoring one?

ANTIGONE. The dead man will not bear thee out in this.

CREON. Surely, if good and evil fare alive.

ANTIGONE. The slain man was no villain but a brother.

CREON. The patriot perished by the outlaw’s brand.

ANTIGONE. Nathless the realms below these rites require.

CREON. Not that the base should fare as do the brave.

ANTIGONE. Who knows if this world’s crimes are virtues there?

CREON. Not even death can make a foe a friend.

ANTIGONE. My nature is for mutual love, not hate.

CREON. Die then, and love the dead if thou must; No woman shall be the master while I live. [Enter ISMENE]

CHORUS. Lo from out the palace gate, Weeping o’er her sister’s fate, Comes Ismene; see her brow, Once serene, beclouded now, See her beauteous face o’erspread With a flush of angry red.

CREON. Woman, who like a viper unperceived Didst harbor in my house and drain my blood, Two plagues I nurtured blindly, so it proved, To sap my throne. Say, didst thou too abet This crime, or dost abjure all privity?