what a roar
there'll be when he sees the babbler who challenges him sharpening his
teeth!
there'll be when he sees the babbler who challenges him sharpening his
teeth!
Aristophanes
[450]
AEACUS. Why are you weeping?
DIONYSUS. Because I can smell onions.
AEACUS. Ha! so you don't care a fig for the blows?
DIONYSUS. Not the least bit in the world.
AEACUS. Well, let us proceed. Your turn now.
XANTHIAS. Oh, I say!
AEACUS. What's the matter?
XANTHIAS. Pull out this thorn. [451]
AEACUS. What? Now the other one again.
DIONYSUS. "Oh, Apollo! . . . King of Delos and Delphi! "
XANTHIAS. He felt that. Do you hear?
DIONYSUS. Why, no! I was quoting an iambic of Hipponax.
XANTHIAS. 'Tis labour in vain. Come, smite his flanks.
AEACUS. No, present your belly.
DIONYSUS. Oh, Posidon . . .
XANTHIAS. Ah! here's someone who's feeling it.
DIONYSUS. . . . who reignest on the Aegean headland and in the depths of
the azure sea. [452]
AEACUS. By Demeter, I cannot find out which of you is the god. But come
in; the master and Persephone will soon tell you, for they are gods
themselves.
DIONYSUS. You are quite right; but you should have thought of that before
you beat us.
CHORUS. Oh! Muse, take part in our sacred choruses; our songs will
enchant you and you shall see a people of wise men, eager for a nobler
glory than that of Cleophon,[453] the braggart, the swallow, who deafens
us with his hoarse cries, while perched upon a Thracian tree. He whines
in his barbarian tongue and repeats the lament of Philomela with good
reason, for even if the votes were equally divided, he would have to
perish. [454]
The sacred chorus owes the city its opinion and its wise lessons. First I
demand that equality be restored among the citizens, so that none may be
disquieted. If there be any whom the artifices of Phrynichus have drawn
into any error,[455] let us allow them to offer their excuses and let us
forget these old mistakes. Furthermore, that there be not a single
citizen in Athens who is deprived of his rights; otherwise would it not
be shameful to see slaves become masters and treated as honourably as
Plataeans, because they helped in a single naval fight? [456] Not that I
censure this step, for, on the contrary I approve it; 'tis the sole thing
you have done that is sensible. But those citizens, both they and their
fathers, have so often fought with you and are allied to you by ties of
blood, so ought you not to listen to their prayers and pardon them their
single fault? Nature has given you wisdom, therefore let your anger cool
and let all those who have fought together on Athenian galleys live in
brotherhood and as fellow-citizens, enjoying the same equal rights; to
show ourselves proud and intractable about granting the rights of the
city, especially at a time when we are riding at the mercy of the
waves,[457] is a folly, of which we shall later repent.
If I am adept at reading the destiny or the soul of a man, the fatal hour
for little Cligenes[458] is near, that unbearable ape, the greatest rogue
of all the washermen, who use a mixture of ashes and Cimolian earth and
call it potash. [458] He knows it; hence he is always armed for war; for
he fears, if he ventures forth without his bludgeon, he would be stripped
of his clothes when he is drunk.
I have often noticed that there are good and honest citizens in Athens,
who are as old gold is to new money. The ancient coins are excellent in
point of standard; they are assuredly the best of all moneys; they alone
are well struck and give a pure ring; everywhere they obtain currency,
both in Greece and in strange lands; yet we make no use of them and
prefer those bad copper pieces quite recently issued and so wretchedly
struck. Exactly in the same way do we deal with our citizens. If we know
them to be well-born, sober, brave, honest, adepts in the exercises of
the gymnasium and in the liberal arts, they are the butts of our
contumely and we have only a use for the petty rubbish, consisting of
strangers, slaves and low-born folk not worth a whit more, mushrooms of
yesterday, whom formerly Athens would not have even wanted as scapegoats.
Madmen, do change your ways at last; employ the honest men afresh; if you
are fortunate through doing this, 'twill be but right, and if Fate
betrays you, the wise will at least praise you for having fallen
honourably.
AEACUS. By Zeus, the Deliverer! what a brave man your master is.
XANTHIAS. A brave man! I should think so indeed, for he only knows how to
drink and to make love!
AEACUS. He has convicted you of lying and did not thrash the impudent
rascal who had dared to call himself the master.
XANTHIAS. Ah! he would have rued it if he had.
AEACUS. Well spoken! that's a reply that does a slave credit; 'tis thus
that I like to act too.
XANTHIAS. How, pray?
AEACUS. I am beside myself with joy, when I can curse my master in
secret.
XANTHIAS. And when you go off grumbling, after having been well thrashed?
AEACUS. I am delighted.
XANTHIAS. And when you make yourself important?
AEACUS. I know of nothing sweeter.
XANTHIAS. Ah! by Zeus! we are brothers. And when you are listening to
what your masters are saying?
AEACUS. 'Tis a pleasure that drives me to distraction.
XANTHIAS. And when you repeat it to strangers?
AEACUS. Oh! I feel as happy as if I were emitting semen.
XANTHIAS. By Phoebus Apollo! reach me your hand; come hither, that I may
embrace you; and, in the name of Zeus, the Thrashed one, tell me what all
this noise means, these shouts, these quarrels, that I can hear going on
inside yonder.
AEACUS. 'Tis Aeschylus and Euripides.
XANTHIAS. What do you mean?
AEACUS. The matter is serious, very serious indeed; all Hades is in
commotion.
XANTHIAS. What's it all about?
AEACUS. We have a law here, according to which, whoever in each of the
great sciences and liberal arts beats all his rivals, is fed at the
Prytaneum and sits at Pluto's side . . .
XANTHIAS. I know that.
AEACUS. . . . until someone cleverer than he in the same style of thing
comes along; then he has to give way to him.
XANTHIAS. And how has this law disturbed Aeschylus?
AEACUS. He held the chair for tragedy, as being the greatest in his art.
XANTHIAS. And who has it now?
AEACUS. When Euripides descended here, he started reciting his verses to
the cheats, cut-purses, parricides, and brigands, who abound in Hades;
his supple and tortuous reasonings filled them with enthusiasm, and they
pronounced him the cleverest by far. So Euripides, elated with pride,
took possession of the throne on which Aeschylus was installed.
XANTHIAS. And did he not get stoned?
AEACUS. No, but the folk demanded loudly that a regular trial should
decide to which of the two the highest place belonged.
XANTHIAS. What folk? this mob of rascals? (_Points to the spectators. _)
AEACUS. Their clamour reached right up to heaven.
XANTHIAS. And had Aeschylus not his friends too?
AEACUS. Good people are very scarce here, just the same as on earth.
XANTHIAS. What does Pluto reckon to do?
AEACUS. To open a contest as soon as possible; the two rivals will show
their skill, and finally a verdict will be given.
XANTHIAS. What! has not Sophocles also claimed the chair then?
AEACUS. No, no! he embraced Aeschylus and shook his hand, when he came
down; he could have taken the seat, for Aeschylus vacated it for him; but
according to Clidemides,[459] he prefers to act as his second; if
Aeschylus triumphs, he will stay modestly where he is, but if not, he has
declared that he will contest the prize with Euripides.
XANTHIAS. When is the contest to begin?
AEACUS. Directly! the battle royal is to take place on this very spot.
Poetry is to be weighed in the scales.
XANTHIAS. What? How can tragedy be weighed?
AEACUS. They will bring rulers and compasses to measure the words, and
those forms which are used for moulding bricks, also diameter measures
and wedges, for Euripides says he wishes to torture every verse of his
rival's tragedies.
XANTHIAS. If I mistake not, Aeschylus must be in a rage.
AEACUS. With lowered head he glares fiercely like a bull.
XANTHIAS. And who will be the judge?
AEACUS. The choice was difficult; it was seen that there was a dearth of
able men. Aeschylus took exception to the Athenians . . .
XANTHIAS. No doubt he thought there were too many thieves among them.
AEACUS. . . . and moreover believed them too light-minded to judge of a
poet's merits. Finally they fell back upon your master, because he
understands tragic poetry. [460] But let us go in; when the masters are
busy, we must look out for blows!
CHORUS. Ah! what fearful wrath will be surging in his heart!
what a roar
there'll be when he sees the babbler who challenges him sharpening his
teeth! how savagely his eyes will roll! What a battle of words like
plumed helmets and waving crests hurling themselves against fragile
outbursts and wretched parings! We shall see the ingenious architect of
style defending himself against immense periods. Then, the close hairs of
his thick mane all a-bristle, the giant will knit his terrible brow; he
will pull out verses as solidly bolted together as the framework of a
ship and will hurl them forth with a roar, while the pretty speaker with
the supple and sharpened tongue, who weighs each syllable and submits
everything to the lash of his envy, will cut this grand style to
mincemeat and reduce to ruins this edifice erected by one good sturdy
puff of breath. [461]
EURIPIDES (_to Dionysus_). Your advice is in vain, I shall not vacate the
chair, for I contend I am superior to him.
DIONYSUS. Aeschylus, why do you keep silent? You understand what he says.
EURIPIDES. He is going to stand on his dignity first; 'tis a trick he
never failed to use in his tragedies.
DIONYSUS. My dear fellow, a little less arrogance, please.
EURIPIDES. Oh! I know him for many a day. I have long had a thorough hold
of his ferocious heroes, for his high-flown language and of the monstrous
blustering words which his great, gaping mouth hurls forth thick and
close without curb or measure.
AESCHYLUS. It is indeed you, the son of a rustic goddess,[462] who dare
to treat me thus, you, who only know how to collect together stupid
sayings and to stitch the rags of your beggars? [463] I shall make you rue
your insults.
DIONYSUS. Enough said, Aeschylus, calm the wild wrath that is turning
your heart into a furnace.
AESCHYLUS. No, not until I have clearly shown the true value of this
impudent fellow with his lame men. [464]
DIONYSUS. A lamb, a black lamb! Slaves, bring it quickly, the storm-cloud
is about to burst. [465]
AESCHYLUS. Shame on your Cretan monologues! [466] Shame on the infamous
nuptials[467] that you introduce into the tragic art!
DIONYSUS. Curb yourself, noble Aeschylus, and as for you, my poor
Euripides, be prudent, protect yourself from this hailstorm, or he may
easily in his rage hit you full in the temple with some terrible word,
that would let out your Telephus. [468] Come, Aeschylus, no flying into a
temper! discuss the question coolly; poets must not revile each other
like market wenches. Why, you shout at the very outset and burst out like
a pine that catches fire in the forest.
EURIPIDES. I am ready for the contest and don't flinch; let him choose
the attack or the defence; let him discuss everything, the dialogue, the
choruses, the tragic genius, Peleus, Aeolus, Meleager[469] and especially
Telephus.
DIONYSUS. And what do you propose to do, Aeschylus? Speak!
AESCHYLUS. I should have wished not to maintain a contest that is not
equal or fair.
DIONYSUS. Why not fair?
AESCHYLUS. Because my poetry has outlived me, whilst his died with him
and he can use it against me. However, I submit to your ruling.
DIONYSUS. Let incense and a brazier be brought, for I want to offer a
prayer to the gods. Thanks to their favour, may I be able to decide
between these ingenious rivals as a clever expert should! And do you sing
a hymn in honour of the Muses.
CHORUS. Oh! ye chaste Muses, the daughters of Zeus, you who read the fine
and subtle minds of thought-makers when they enter upon a contest of
quibbles and tricks, look down on these two powerful athletes; inspire
them, one with mighty words and the other with odds and ends of verses.
Now the great mind contest is beginning.
DIONYSUS. And do you likewise make supplication to the gods before
entering the lists.
AESCHYLUS. Oh, Demeter! who hast formed my mind, may I be able to prove
myself worthy of thy Mysteries! [470]
DIONYSUS. And you, Euripides, prove yourself meet to sprinkle incense on
the brazier.
EURIPIDES. Thanks, but I sacrifice to other gods. [471]
DIONYSUS. To private gods of your own, which you have made after your own
image?
EURIPIDES. Why, certainly!
DIONYSUS. Well then, invoke your gods.
EURIPIDES. Oh! thou Aether, on which I feed, oh! thou Volubility of
Speech, oh! Craftiness, oh! Subtle Scent! enable me to crush the
arguments of my opponent.
CHORUS. We are curious to see upon what ground these clever tilters are
going to measure each other. Their tongue is keen, their wit is ready,
their heart is full of audacity. From the one we must expect both
elegance and polish of language, whereas the other, armed with his
ponderous words, will fall hip and thigh upon his foe and with a single
blow tear down and scatter all his vain devices.
DIONYSUS. Come, be quick and speak and let your words be elegant, but
without false imagery or platitude.
EURIPIDES. I shall speak later of my poetry, but I want first to prove
that Aeschylus is merely a wretched impostor; I shall relate by what
means he tricked a coarse audience, trained in the school of
Phrynichus. [472] First one saw some seated figure, who was veiled, some
Achilles or Niobe,[473] who then strutted about the stage, but neither
uncovered their face nor uttered a syllable.
DIONYSUS. I' faith! that's true!
EURIPIDES. Meanwhile, the Chorus would pour forth as many as four tirades
one after the other, without stopping, and the characters would still
maintain their stony silence.
DIONYSUS. I liked their silence, and these mutes pleased me no less than
those characters that have such a heap to say nowadays.
EURIPIDES. 'Tis because you were a fool, understand that well.
DIONYSUS. Possibly; but what was his object?
EURIPIDES. 'Twas pure quackery; in this way the spectator would sit
motionless, waiting, waiting for Niobe to say something, and the piece
would go running on.
DIONYSUS. Oh! the rogue! how he deceived me! Well, Aeschylus, why are you
so restless? Why this impatience, eh?
EURIPIDES. 'Tis because he sees himself beaten. Then when he had rambled
on well, and got half-way through the piece, he would spout some dozen
big, blustering, winged words, tall as mountains, terrible scarers, which
the spectator admired without understanding what they meant.
DIONYSUS. Oh! great gods!
AESCHYLUS. Silence!
EURIPIDES. There was no comprehending one word.
DIONYSUS (_to Aeschylus_). Don't grind your teeth.
EURIPIDES. There were Scamanders, abysses, griffins with eagles' beaks
chiselled upon brazen bucklers, all words with frowning crests and hard,
hard to understand.
DIONYSUS. 'Faith, I was kept awake almost an entire night, trying to
think out his yellow bird, half cock and half horse. [474]
AESCHYLUS. Why, fool, 'tis a device that is painted on the prow of a
vessel.
DIONYSUS. Ah! I actually thought 'twas Eryxis, the son of
Philoxenus. [475]
EURIPIDES. But what did you want with a cock in tragedy?
AESCHYLUS. But you, you foe of the gods, what have you done that is so
good?
EURIPIDES. Oh! I have not made horses with cocks' heads like you, nor
goats with deer's horns, as you may see 'em on Persian tapestries; but,
when I received tragedy from your hands, it was quite bloated with
enormous, ponderous words, and I began by lightening it of its heavy
baggage and treated it with little verses, with subtle arguments, with
the sap of white beet and decoctions of philosophical folly, the whole
being well filtered together;[476] then I fed it with monologues, mixing
in some Cephisophon;[477] but I did not chatter at random nor mix in any
ingredients that first came to hand; from the outset I made my subject
clear, and told the origin of the piece.
AESCHYLUS. Well, that was better than telling your own. [478]
EURIPIDES. Then, starting with the very first verse, each character
played his part; all spoke, both woman and slave and master, young girl
and old hag. [479]
AESCHYLUS. And was not such daring deserving of death?
EURIPIDES. No, by Apollo! 'twas to please the people.
DIONYSUS. Oh! leave that alone, do; 'tis not the best side of your case.
EURIPIDES. Furthermore, I taught the spectators the art of speech . . .
AESCHYLUS. 'Tis true indeed! Would that you had burst before you did it!
EURIPIDES. . . . the use of the straight lines and of the corners of
language, the science of thinking, of reading, of understanding,
plotting, loving deceit, of suspecting evil, of thinking of
everything. . . .
AESCHYLUS. Oh! true, true again!
EURIPIDES. I introduced our private life upon the stage, our common
habits; and 'twas bold of me, for everyone was at home with these and
could be my critic; I did not burst out into big noisy words to prevent
their comprehension; nor did I terrify the audience by showing them
Cycni[480] and Memnons[481] on chariots harnessed with steeds and
jingling bells. Look at his disciples and look at mine. His are
Phormisius and Megaenetus of Magnesia[482], all a-bristle with long
beards, spears and trumpets, and grinning with sardonic and ferocious
laughter, while my disciples are Clitophon and the graceful
Theramenes. [483]
DIONYSUS. Theramenes? An able man and ready for anything; a man, who in
imminent dangers knew well how to get out of the scrape by saying he was
from Chios and not from Ceos. [484]
EURIPIDES. 'Tis thus that I taught my audience how to judge, namely, by
introducing the art of reasoning and considering into tragedy. Thanks to
me, they understand everything, discern all things, conduct their
households better and ask themselves, "What is to be thought of this?
Where is that? Who has taken the other thing? "
DIONYSUS. Yes, certainly, and now every Athenian who returns home, bawls
to his slaves, "Where is the stew-pot? Who has eaten off the sprat's
head? Where is the clove of garlic that was left over from yesterday? Who
has been nibbling at my olives? " Whereas formerly they kept their seats
with mouths agape like fools and idiots.
CHORUS. You hear him, illustrious Achilles,[485] and what are you going
to reply? Only take care that your rage does not lead you astray, for he
has handled you brutally. My noble friend, don't get carried away; furl
all your sails, except the top-gallants, so that your ship may only
advance slowly, until you feel yourself driven forward by a soft and
favourable wind. Come then, you who were the first of the Greeks to
construct imposing monuments of words and to raise the old tragedy above
childish trifling, open a free course to the torrent of your words.
AESCHYLUS. This contest rouses my gall; my heart is boiling over with
wrath. Am I bound to dispute with this fellow? But I will not let him
think me unarmed and helpless. So, answer me! what is it in a poet one
admires?
EURIPIDES. Wise counsels, which make the citizens better.
AESCHYLUS. And if you have failed in this duty, if out of honest and
pure-minded men you have made rogues, what punishment do you think is
your meet?
DIONYSUS. Death. I will reply for him.
AESCHYLUS.
AEACUS. Why are you weeping?
DIONYSUS. Because I can smell onions.
AEACUS. Ha! so you don't care a fig for the blows?
DIONYSUS. Not the least bit in the world.
AEACUS. Well, let us proceed. Your turn now.
XANTHIAS. Oh, I say!
AEACUS. What's the matter?
XANTHIAS. Pull out this thorn. [451]
AEACUS. What? Now the other one again.
DIONYSUS. "Oh, Apollo! . . . King of Delos and Delphi! "
XANTHIAS. He felt that. Do you hear?
DIONYSUS. Why, no! I was quoting an iambic of Hipponax.
XANTHIAS. 'Tis labour in vain. Come, smite his flanks.
AEACUS. No, present your belly.
DIONYSUS. Oh, Posidon . . .
XANTHIAS. Ah! here's someone who's feeling it.
DIONYSUS. . . . who reignest on the Aegean headland and in the depths of
the azure sea. [452]
AEACUS. By Demeter, I cannot find out which of you is the god. But come
in; the master and Persephone will soon tell you, for they are gods
themselves.
DIONYSUS. You are quite right; but you should have thought of that before
you beat us.
CHORUS. Oh! Muse, take part in our sacred choruses; our songs will
enchant you and you shall see a people of wise men, eager for a nobler
glory than that of Cleophon,[453] the braggart, the swallow, who deafens
us with his hoarse cries, while perched upon a Thracian tree. He whines
in his barbarian tongue and repeats the lament of Philomela with good
reason, for even if the votes were equally divided, he would have to
perish. [454]
The sacred chorus owes the city its opinion and its wise lessons. First I
demand that equality be restored among the citizens, so that none may be
disquieted. If there be any whom the artifices of Phrynichus have drawn
into any error,[455] let us allow them to offer their excuses and let us
forget these old mistakes. Furthermore, that there be not a single
citizen in Athens who is deprived of his rights; otherwise would it not
be shameful to see slaves become masters and treated as honourably as
Plataeans, because they helped in a single naval fight? [456] Not that I
censure this step, for, on the contrary I approve it; 'tis the sole thing
you have done that is sensible. But those citizens, both they and their
fathers, have so often fought with you and are allied to you by ties of
blood, so ought you not to listen to their prayers and pardon them their
single fault? Nature has given you wisdom, therefore let your anger cool
and let all those who have fought together on Athenian galleys live in
brotherhood and as fellow-citizens, enjoying the same equal rights; to
show ourselves proud and intractable about granting the rights of the
city, especially at a time when we are riding at the mercy of the
waves,[457] is a folly, of which we shall later repent.
If I am adept at reading the destiny or the soul of a man, the fatal hour
for little Cligenes[458] is near, that unbearable ape, the greatest rogue
of all the washermen, who use a mixture of ashes and Cimolian earth and
call it potash. [458] He knows it; hence he is always armed for war; for
he fears, if he ventures forth without his bludgeon, he would be stripped
of his clothes when he is drunk.
I have often noticed that there are good and honest citizens in Athens,
who are as old gold is to new money. The ancient coins are excellent in
point of standard; they are assuredly the best of all moneys; they alone
are well struck and give a pure ring; everywhere they obtain currency,
both in Greece and in strange lands; yet we make no use of them and
prefer those bad copper pieces quite recently issued and so wretchedly
struck. Exactly in the same way do we deal with our citizens. If we know
them to be well-born, sober, brave, honest, adepts in the exercises of
the gymnasium and in the liberal arts, they are the butts of our
contumely and we have only a use for the petty rubbish, consisting of
strangers, slaves and low-born folk not worth a whit more, mushrooms of
yesterday, whom formerly Athens would not have even wanted as scapegoats.
Madmen, do change your ways at last; employ the honest men afresh; if you
are fortunate through doing this, 'twill be but right, and if Fate
betrays you, the wise will at least praise you for having fallen
honourably.
AEACUS. By Zeus, the Deliverer! what a brave man your master is.
XANTHIAS. A brave man! I should think so indeed, for he only knows how to
drink and to make love!
AEACUS. He has convicted you of lying and did not thrash the impudent
rascal who had dared to call himself the master.
XANTHIAS. Ah! he would have rued it if he had.
AEACUS. Well spoken! that's a reply that does a slave credit; 'tis thus
that I like to act too.
XANTHIAS. How, pray?
AEACUS. I am beside myself with joy, when I can curse my master in
secret.
XANTHIAS. And when you go off grumbling, after having been well thrashed?
AEACUS. I am delighted.
XANTHIAS. And when you make yourself important?
AEACUS. I know of nothing sweeter.
XANTHIAS. Ah! by Zeus! we are brothers. And when you are listening to
what your masters are saying?
AEACUS. 'Tis a pleasure that drives me to distraction.
XANTHIAS. And when you repeat it to strangers?
AEACUS. Oh! I feel as happy as if I were emitting semen.
XANTHIAS. By Phoebus Apollo! reach me your hand; come hither, that I may
embrace you; and, in the name of Zeus, the Thrashed one, tell me what all
this noise means, these shouts, these quarrels, that I can hear going on
inside yonder.
AEACUS. 'Tis Aeschylus and Euripides.
XANTHIAS. What do you mean?
AEACUS. The matter is serious, very serious indeed; all Hades is in
commotion.
XANTHIAS. What's it all about?
AEACUS. We have a law here, according to which, whoever in each of the
great sciences and liberal arts beats all his rivals, is fed at the
Prytaneum and sits at Pluto's side . . .
XANTHIAS. I know that.
AEACUS. . . . until someone cleverer than he in the same style of thing
comes along; then he has to give way to him.
XANTHIAS. And how has this law disturbed Aeschylus?
AEACUS. He held the chair for tragedy, as being the greatest in his art.
XANTHIAS. And who has it now?
AEACUS. When Euripides descended here, he started reciting his verses to
the cheats, cut-purses, parricides, and brigands, who abound in Hades;
his supple and tortuous reasonings filled them with enthusiasm, and they
pronounced him the cleverest by far. So Euripides, elated with pride,
took possession of the throne on which Aeschylus was installed.
XANTHIAS. And did he not get stoned?
AEACUS. No, but the folk demanded loudly that a regular trial should
decide to which of the two the highest place belonged.
XANTHIAS. What folk? this mob of rascals? (_Points to the spectators. _)
AEACUS. Their clamour reached right up to heaven.
XANTHIAS. And had Aeschylus not his friends too?
AEACUS. Good people are very scarce here, just the same as on earth.
XANTHIAS. What does Pluto reckon to do?
AEACUS. To open a contest as soon as possible; the two rivals will show
their skill, and finally a verdict will be given.
XANTHIAS. What! has not Sophocles also claimed the chair then?
AEACUS. No, no! he embraced Aeschylus and shook his hand, when he came
down; he could have taken the seat, for Aeschylus vacated it for him; but
according to Clidemides,[459] he prefers to act as his second; if
Aeschylus triumphs, he will stay modestly where he is, but if not, he has
declared that he will contest the prize with Euripides.
XANTHIAS. When is the contest to begin?
AEACUS. Directly! the battle royal is to take place on this very spot.
Poetry is to be weighed in the scales.
XANTHIAS. What? How can tragedy be weighed?
AEACUS. They will bring rulers and compasses to measure the words, and
those forms which are used for moulding bricks, also diameter measures
and wedges, for Euripides says he wishes to torture every verse of his
rival's tragedies.
XANTHIAS. If I mistake not, Aeschylus must be in a rage.
AEACUS. With lowered head he glares fiercely like a bull.
XANTHIAS. And who will be the judge?
AEACUS. The choice was difficult; it was seen that there was a dearth of
able men. Aeschylus took exception to the Athenians . . .
XANTHIAS. No doubt he thought there were too many thieves among them.
AEACUS. . . . and moreover believed them too light-minded to judge of a
poet's merits. Finally they fell back upon your master, because he
understands tragic poetry. [460] But let us go in; when the masters are
busy, we must look out for blows!
CHORUS. Ah! what fearful wrath will be surging in his heart!
what a roar
there'll be when he sees the babbler who challenges him sharpening his
teeth! how savagely his eyes will roll! What a battle of words like
plumed helmets and waving crests hurling themselves against fragile
outbursts and wretched parings! We shall see the ingenious architect of
style defending himself against immense periods. Then, the close hairs of
his thick mane all a-bristle, the giant will knit his terrible brow; he
will pull out verses as solidly bolted together as the framework of a
ship and will hurl them forth with a roar, while the pretty speaker with
the supple and sharpened tongue, who weighs each syllable and submits
everything to the lash of his envy, will cut this grand style to
mincemeat and reduce to ruins this edifice erected by one good sturdy
puff of breath. [461]
EURIPIDES (_to Dionysus_). Your advice is in vain, I shall not vacate the
chair, for I contend I am superior to him.
DIONYSUS. Aeschylus, why do you keep silent? You understand what he says.
EURIPIDES. He is going to stand on his dignity first; 'tis a trick he
never failed to use in his tragedies.
DIONYSUS. My dear fellow, a little less arrogance, please.
EURIPIDES. Oh! I know him for many a day. I have long had a thorough hold
of his ferocious heroes, for his high-flown language and of the monstrous
blustering words which his great, gaping mouth hurls forth thick and
close without curb or measure.
AESCHYLUS. It is indeed you, the son of a rustic goddess,[462] who dare
to treat me thus, you, who only know how to collect together stupid
sayings and to stitch the rags of your beggars? [463] I shall make you rue
your insults.
DIONYSUS. Enough said, Aeschylus, calm the wild wrath that is turning
your heart into a furnace.
AESCHYLUS. No, not until I have clearly shown the true value of this
impudent fellow with his lame men. [464]
DIONYSUS. A lamb, a black lamb! Slaves, bring it quickly, the storm-cloud
is about to burst. [465]
AESCHYLUS. Shame on your Cretan monologues! [466] Shame on the infamous
nuptials[467] that you introduce into the tragic art!
DIONYSUS. Curb yourself, noble Aeschylus, and as for you, my poor
Euripides, be prudent, protect yourself from this hailstorm, or he may
easily in his rage hit you full in the temple with some terrible word,
that would let out your Telephus. [468] Come, Aeschylus, no flying into a
temper! discuss the question coolly; poets must not revile each other
like market wenches. Why, you shout at the very outset and burst out like
a pine that catches fire in the forest.
EURIPIDES. I am ready for the contest and don't flinch; let him choose
the attack or the defence; let him discuss everything, the dialogue, the
choruses, the tragic genius, Peleus, Aeolus, Meleager[469] and especially
Telephus.
DIONYSUS. And what do you propose to do, Aeschylus? Speak!
AESCHYLUS. I should have wished not to maintain a contest that is not
equal or fair.
DIONYSUS. Why not fair?
AESCHYLUS. Because my poetry has outlived me, whilst his died with him
and he can use it against me. However, I submit to your ruling.
DIONYSUS. Let incense and a brazier be brought, for I want to offer a
prayer to the gods. Thanks to their favour, may I be able to decide
between these ingenious rivals as a clever expert should! And do you sing
a hymn in honour of the Muses.
CHORUS. Oh! ye chaste Muses, the daughters of Zeus, you who read the fine
and subtle minds of thought-makers when they enter upon a contest of
quibbles and tricks, look down on these two powerful athletes; inspire
them, one with mighty words and the other with odds and ends of verses.
Now the great mind contest is beginning.
DIONYSUS. And do you likewise make supplication to the gods before
entering the lists.
AESCHYLUS. Oh, Demeter! who hast formed my mind, may I be able to prove
myself worthy of thy Mysteries! [470]
DIONYSUS. And you, Euripides, prove yourself meet to sprinkle incense on
the brazier.
EURIPIDES. Thanks, but I sacrifice to other gods. [471]
DIONYSUS. To private gods of your own, which you have made after your own
image?
EURIPIDES. Why, certainly!
DIONYSUS. Well then, invoke your gods.
EURIPIDES. Oh! thou Aether, on which I feed, oh! thou Volubility of
Speech, oh! Craftiness, oh! Subtle Scent! enable me to crush the
arguments of my opponent.
CHORUS. We are curious to see upon what ground these clever tilters are
going to measure each other. Their tongue is keen, their wit is ready,
their heart is full of audacity. From the one we must expect both
elegance and polish of language, whereas the other, armed with his
ponderous words, will fall hip and thigh upon his foe and with a single
blow tear down and scatter all his vain devices.
DIONYSUS. Come, be quick and speak and let your words be elegant, but
without false imagery or platitude.
EURIPIDES. I shall speak later of my poetry, but I want first to prove
that Aeschylus is merely a wretched impostor; I shall relate by what
means he tricked a coarse audience, trained in the school of
Phrynichus. [472] First one saw some seated figure, who was veiled, some
Achilles or Niobe,[473] who then strutted about the stage, but neither
uncovered their face nor uttered a syllable.
DIONYSUS. I' faith! that's true!
EURIPIDES. Meanwhile, the Chorus would pour forth as many as four tirades
one after the other, without stopping, and the characters would still
maintain their stony silence.
DIONYSUS. I liked their silence, and these mutes pleased me no less than
those characters that have such a heap to say nowadays.
EURIPIDES. 'Tis because you were a fool, understand that well.
DIONYSUS. Possibly; but what was his object?
EURIPIDES. 'Twas pure quackery; in this way the spectator would sit
motionless, waiting, waiting for Niobe to say something, and the piece
would go running on.
DIONYSUS. Oh! the rogue! how he deceived me! Well, Aeschylus, why are you
so restless? Why this impatience, eh?
EURIPIDES. 'Tis because he sees himself beaten. Then when he had rambled
on well, and got half-way through the piece, he would spout some dozen
big, blustering, winged words, tall as mountains, terrible scarers, which
the spectator admired without understanding what they meant.
DIONYSUS. Oh! great gods!
AESCHYLUS. Silence!
EURIPIDES. There was no comprehending one word.
DIONYSUS (_to Aeschylus_). Don't grind your teeth.
EURIPIDES. There were Scamanders, abysses, griffins with eagles' beaks
chiselled upon brazen bucklers, all words with frowning crests and hard,
hard to understand.
DIONYSUS. 'Faith, I was kept awake almost an entire night, trying to
think out his yellow bird, half cock and half horse. [474]
AESCHYLUS. Why, fool, 'tis a device that is painted on the prow of a
vessel.
DIONYSUS. Ah! I actually thought 'twas Eryxis, the son of
Philoxenus. [475]
EURIPIDES. But what did you want with a cock in tragedy?
AESCHYLUS. But you, you foe of the gods, what have you done that is so
good?
EURIPIDES. Oh! I have not made horses with cocks' heads like you, nor
goats with deer's horns, as you may see 'em on Persian tapestries; but,
when I received tragedy from your hands, it was quite bloated with
enormous, ponderous words, and I began by lightening it of its heavy
baggage and treated it with little verses, with subtle arguments, with
the sap of white beet and decoctions of philosophical folly, the whole
being well filtered together;[476] then I fed it with monologues, mixing
in some Cephisophon;[477] but I did not chatter at random nor mix in any
ingredients that first came to hand; from the outset I made my subject
clear, and told the origin of the piece.
AESCHYLUS. Well, that was better than telling your own. [478]
EURIPIDES. Then, starting with the very first verse, each character
played his part; all spoke, both woman and slave and master, young girl
and old hag. [479]
AESCHYLUS. And was not such daring deserving of death?
EURIPIDES. No, by Apollo! 'twas to please the people.
DIONYSUS. Oh! leave that alone, do; 'tis not the best side of your case.
EURIPIDES. Furthermore, I taught the spectators the art of speech . . .
AESCHYLUS. 'Tis true indeed! Would that you had burst before you did it!
EURIPIDES. . . . the use of the straight lines and of the corners of
language, the science of thinking, of reading, of understanding,
plotting, loving deceit, of suspecting evil, of thinking of
everything. . . .
AESCHYLUS. Oh! true, true again!
EURIPIDES. I introduced our private life upon the stage, our common
habits; and 'twas bold of me, for everyone was at home with these and
could be my critic; I did not burst out into big noisy words to prevent
their comprehension; nor did I terrify the audience by showing them
Cycni[480] and Memnons[481] on chariots harnessed with steeds and
jingling bells. Look at his disciples and look at mine. His are
Phormisius and Megaenetus of Magnesia[482], all a-bristle with long
beards, spears and trumpets, and grinning with sardonic and ferocious
laughter, while my disciples are Clitophon and the graceful
Theramenes. [483]
DIONYSUS. Theramenes? An able man and ready for anything; a man, who in
imminent dangers knew well how to get out of the scrape by saying he was
from Chios and not from Ceos. [484]
EURIPIDES. 'Tis thus that I taught my audience how to judge, namely, by
introducing the art of reasoning and considering into tragedy. Thanks to
me, they understand everything, discern all things, conduct their
households better and ask themselves, "What is to be thought of this?
Where is that? Who has taken the other thing? "
DIONYSUS. Yes, certainly, and now every Athenian who returns home, bawls
to his slaves, "Where is the stew-pot? Who has eaten off the sprat's
head? Where is the clove of garlic that was left over from yesterday? Who
has been nibbling at my olives? " Whereas formerly they kept their seats
with mouths agape like fools and idiots.
CHORUS. You hear him, illustrious Achilles,[485] and what are you going
to reply? Only take care that your rage does not lead you astray, for he
has handled you brutally. My noble friend, don't get carried away; furl
all your sails, except the top-gallants, so that your ship may only
advance slowly, until you feel yourself driven forward by a soft and
favourable wind. Come then, you who were the first of the Greeks to
construct imposing monuments of words and to raise the old tragedy above
childish trifling, open a free course to the torrent of your words.
AESCHYLUS. This contest rouses my gall; my heart is boiling over with
wrath. Am I bound to dispute with this fellow? But I will not let him
think me unarmed and helpless. So, answer me! what is it in a poet one
admires?
EURIPIDES. Wise counsels, which make the citizens better.
AESCHYLUS. And if you have failed in this duty, if out of honest and
pure-minded men you have made rogues, what punishment do you think is
your meet?
DIONYSUS. Death. I will reply for him.
AESCHYLUS.
