Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Matthew Arnold
Page 30
The spoil was now to be divided among the conquerors. Aristodemus, the youngest of the sons of Aristomachus, did not survive to enjoy his share. He was slain Delphi by the sons of Pylades and Electra, the kinsmen of the house of Agamemnon, that house which the Heracleidae with their Dorian army dispossessed. The claims of Aristodemus descended to his two sons, Procles and Eurysthenes, children under the guardianship of their maternal uncle, Theras. Temenus, the eldest of the sons of Aristomachus, took the kingdom of Argos; for the two remaining kingdoms, that of Sparta and that of Messenia, his two nephews, who were to rule jointly, and their uncle Cresphontes, were to cast lots. Cresphontes wished to have the fertile Messenia, and induced his brother to acquiesce in a trick which secured it to him. The lot of Cresphontes and that of his two nephews were to be placed in a water-jar, and own out. Messenia was to belong to him whose lot came out first. With the connivance of Temenus, Cresphontes marked as his own lot a pellet composed of baked clay; as the lot of his nephews, a pellet of unbaked clay : the unbaked pellet was of course dissolved in the water, while the brick pellet fell out alone. Messenia, therefore, was assigned to Cresphontes.
Messenia was at this time ruled by Melanthus, a descendant of Neleus. This ancestor, a prince of the great house of Aeolus, had come from Thessaly, and succeeded to the Messenian throne on the failure of the previous dynasty. Melanthus and his race were thus foreigners in Messenia, and were unpopular. His subjects offered little or no opposition to the invading Dorians: Melanthus abandoned his kingdom to Cresphontes, and retired to Athens.
Cresphontes married Merope, whose native country, Arcadia, was not affected by the Dorian invasion. This marriage, the issue of which was three sons, connected him with the native population of Peloponnesus. He built a new capital of Messenia, Stenyclaros, and transferred thither, from Pylos, the seat of government: he at first proposed, it is said by Pausanias, to divide Messenia into five states, and to confer on the native Messenians equal privileges with their Dorian conquerors. The Dorians complained that his administration unduly favoured the vanquished people: his chief magnates, headed by Polyphontes, himself a descendant of Hercules, formed a cabal against him, in which he was slain with his two eldest sons. The youngest son of Cresphontes, Aepytus, then an infant, was saved by his mother, who sent him to her father, Cypselus, the king of Arcadia, under whose protection he was brought up.
The drama begins at the moment when Aepytus, grown to manhood, returns secretly to Messenia to take vengeance on his father’s murderers. At this period Temenus was no longer reigning at Argos: he had been murdered by his sons, jealous of their brother-in-law, Deiphontes: the sons of Aristodemus, Procles and Eurysthenes, at variance with their guardian, were reigning at Sparta. 8
Merope
PERSONS OF THE DRAMA
LAIAS, uncle of AEPYTUS, brother of MEROPE.
AEPYTUS, son of MEROPE and CRESPHONTES.
POLYPHONTES, king of MESSENIA.
MEROPE, widow of CRESPHONTES, the murdered king of MESSENIA.
THE CHORUS, of MESSENIAN maidens.
ARCAS, an old man of MEROPE’S household.
MESSENGER.
GUARDS, ATTENDANTS, &c.
The Scene is before the royal palace in STENYCLAROS, the capital of MESSENIA. In the foreground is the tomb of CRESPHONTES. The action commences at day-break.
LAIAS. AEPYTUS
LAIAS
SON of Cresphontes, we have reach’d the goal
Of our night-journey, and thou see’st thy home.
Behold thy heritage, thy father’s realm!
This is that fruitful, fam’d Messenian land,
Wealthy in corn and flocks, which, when at last 5
The late-relenting Gods with victory brought
The Heracleidae back to Pelops’ isle,
Fell to thy father’s lot, the second prize.
Before thy feet this recent city spreads
Of Stenyclaros, which he built, and made 10
Of his fresh-conquer’d realm the royal seat,
Degrading Pylos from its ancient rule.
There stands the temple of thine ancestor,
Great Hercules; and, in that public place,
Zeus hath his altar, where thy father fell. 15
Thence to the south, behold those snowy peaks,
Taygetus, Laconia’s border-wall:
And, on this side, those confluent streams which make
Pamisus watering the Messenian plain:
Then to the north, Lycaeus and the hills 20
Of pastoral Arcadia, where, a babe
Snatch’d from the slaughter of thy father’s house,
Thy mother’s kin receiv’d thee, and rear’d up. —
Our journey is well made, the work remains
Which to perform we made it; means for that 25
Let us consult, before this palace sends
Its inmates on their daily tasks abroad.
Haste and advise, for day comes on apace.
AEPYTUS
O brother of my mother, guardian true,
And second father from that hour when first 30
My mother’s faithful servant laid me down,
An infant, at the hearth of Cypselus,
My grandfather, the good Arcadian king —
Thy part it were to advise, and mine to obey.
But let us keep that purpose, which, at home, 35
We judg’d the best; chance finds no better way.
Go thou into the city, and seek out
Whate’er in the Messenian city stirs
Of faithful fondness towards their former king
Or hatred to their present; in this last 40
Will lie, my grandsire said, our fairest chance.
For tyrants make man good beyond himself;
Hate to their rule, which else would die away,
Their daily-practis’d chafings keep alive.
Seek this; revive, unite it, give it hope; 45
Bid it rise boldly at the signal given.
Meanwhile within my father’s palace I,
An unknown guest, will enter, bringing word
Of my own death; but, Laias, well I hope
Through that pretended death to live and reign.
THE CHORUS comes forth. 50
Softly, stand back! — see, tow’rd the palace gates
What black procession slowly makes approach? —
Sad-chanting maidens clad in mourning robes,
With pitchers in their hands, and fresh-pull’d flowers:
Doubtless, they bear them to my father’s tomb. —
MEROPE comes forth. 55
And see, to meet them, that one, grief-plung’d Form,
Severer, paler, statelier than they all,
A golden circlet on her queenly brow. —
O Laias, Laias, let the heart speak here!
Shall I not greet her? shall I not leap forth?
POLYPHONTES comes forth, following MEROPE. 60
LAIAS
Not so: thy heart would pay its moment’s speech
By silence ever after; for, behold!
The King (I know him, even through many years)
Follows the issuing Queen, who stops, as call’d.
No lingering now! straight to the city I: 65
Do thou, till for thine entrance to this house
The happy moment comes, lurk here unseen
Behind the shelter of thy father’s tomb:
Remove yet further off, if aught comes near.
But, here while harbouring, on its margin lay, 70
Sole offering that thou hast, locks from thy head:
And fill thy leisure with an earnest prayer
To his avenging Shade, and to the Gods
Who under earth watch guilty deeds of men,
To guide our effort to a prosperous close.
LAIAS goes out. POLYPHONTES, MEROPE, and THE CHORUS come forward. As they advance, AEPYTUS, who at first conceals himself behind the tomb, moves off
the stage 75
POLYPHONTES (
Set down your pitchers, maidens! and fall back;
Suspend your melancholy rites awhile:
Shortly ye shall resume them with your Queen. —
(To MEROPE)
I sought thee, Merope; I find thee thus,
As I have ever found thee; bent to keep, 80
By sad observances and public grief,
A mournful feud alive, which else would die.
I blame thee not, I do thy heart no wrong:
Thy deep seclusion, thine unyielding gloom,
Thine attitude of cold, estrang’d reproach, 85
These punctual funeral honours, year by year
Repeated, are in thee, I well believe,
Courageous, faithful actions, nobly dar’d.
But, Merope, the eyes of other men
Read in these actions, innocent in thee, 90
Perpetual promptings to rebellious hope,
War-cries to faction, year by year renew’d,
Beacons of vengeance, not to be let die.
And me, believe it, wise men gravely blame,
And ignorant men despise me, that I stand 95
Passive, permitting thee what course thou wilt.
Yes, the crowd mutters that remorseful fear
And paralysing conscience stop my arm,
When it should pluck thee from thy hostile way.
All this I bear, for, what I seek, I know; 100
Peace, peace is what I seek, and public calm:
Endless extinction of unhappy hates:
Union cemented for this nation’s weal.
And even now, if to behold me here,
This day, amid these rites, this black-rob’d train, 105
Wakens, O Queen! remembrance in thy heart
Too wide at variance with the peace I seek —
I will not violate thy noble grief,
The prayer I came to urge I will defer.
MEROPE
This day, to-morrow, yesterday, alike 110
I am, I shall be, have been, in my mind
Tow’rds thee; towards thy silence as thy speech.
Speak, therefore, or keep silence, which thou wilt.
POLYPHONTES
Hear me, then, speak; and let this mournful day,
The twentieth anniversary of strife, 115
Henceforth be honour’d as the date of peace.
Yes, twenty years ago this day beheld
The king Cresphontes, thy great husband, fall:
It needs no yearly offerings at his tomb
To keep alive that memory in my heart; 120
It lives, and, while I see the light, will live.
For we were kinsmen — more than kinsmen — friends:
Together we had sprung, together liv’d;
Together to this isle of Pelops came
To take the inheritance of Hercules; 125
Together won this fair Messenian land —
Alas, that, how to rule it, was our broil!
He had his counsel, party, friends — I mine;
He stood by what he wish’d for — I the same;
I smote him, when our wishes clash’d in arms; 130
He had smit me, had he been swift as I.
But while I smote him, Queen, I honour’d him;
Me, too, had he prevail’d, he had not scorn’d.
Enough of this! — since then, I have maintain’d
The sceptre — not remissly let it fall — 135
And I am seated on a prosperous throne:
Yet still, for I conceal it not, ferments
In the Messenian people what remains
Of thy dead husband’s faction; vigorous once,
Now crush’d but not quite lifeless by his fall. 140
And these men look to thee, and from thy grief —
Something too studiously, forgive me, shown —
Infer thee their accomplice; and they say
That thou in secret nurturest up thy son,
Him whom thou hiddest when thy husband fell, 145
To avenge that fall, and bring them back to power.
Such are their hopes — I ask not if by thee
Willingly fed or no — their most vain hopes;
For I have kept conspiracy fast-chain’d
Till now, and I have strength to chain it still. 150
But, Merope, the years advance; — I stand
Upon the threshold of old age, alone,
Always in arms, always in face of foes.
The long repressive attitude of rule
Leaves me austerer, sterner, than I would; 155
Old age is more suspicious than the free
And valiant heart of youth, or manhood’s firm,
Unclouded reason; I would not decline
Into a jealous tyrant, scourg’d with fears,
Closing, in blood and gloom, his sullen reign. 160
The cares which might in me with time, I feel,
Beget a cruel temper, help me quell;
The breach between our parties help me close;
Assist me to rule mildly: let us join
Our hands in solemn union, making friends 165
Our factions with the friendship of their chiefs.
Let us in marriage, King and Queen, unite
Claims ever hostile else; and set thy son —
No more an exile fed on empty hopes,
And to an unsubstantial title heir, 170
But prince adopted by the will of power,
And future king — before this people’s eyes.
Consider him; consider not old hates:
Consider, too, this people, who were dear
To their dead king, thy husband — yea, too dear, 175
For that destroy’d him. Give them peace; thou can’st.
O Merope, how many noble thoughts,
How many precious feelings of man’s heart,
How many loves, how many gratitudes,
Do twenty years wear out, and see expire! 180
Shall they not wear one hatred out as well?
MEROPE
Thou hast forgot, then, who I am who hear,
And who thou art who speakest to me? I
Am Merope, thy murder’d master’s wife …
And thou art Polyphontes, first his friend, 185
And then … his murderer. These offending tears
That murder draws … this breach that thou would’st close
Was by that murder open’d … that one child
(If still, indeed, he lives) whom thou would’st seat
Upon a throne not thine to give, is heir 190
Because thou slew’st his brothers with their father …
Who can patch union here?… What can there be
But everlasting horror ‘twixt us two,
Gulfs of estranging blood?… Across that chasm
Who can extend their hands?… Maidens, take back 195
These offerings home! our rites are spoil’d today.
POLYPHONTES
Not so: let these Messenian maidens mark
The fear’d and blacken’d ruler of their race,
Albeit with lips unapt to self-excuse,
Blow off the spot of murder from his name. — 200
Murder! — but what is murder? When a wretch
For private gain or hatred takes a life,
We call it murder, crush him, brand his name:
But when, for some great public cause, an arm
Is, without love or hate, austerely rais’d 205
Against a Power exempt from common checks,
Dangerous to all, to be but thus annull’d —
Ranks any man with murder such an act?
With grievous deeds, perhaps; with murder — no!
Find then such cause, the charge of murder falls: 210
Be judge thyself if it abound not here. —
All know how weak the Eagle, Hercules,
> Soaring from his death-pile on Oeta, left
His puny, callow Eaglets; and what trials —
Infirm protectors, dubious oracles 215
Construed awry, misplann’d invasions — us’d
Two generations of his offspring up;
Hardly the third, with grievous loss, regain’d
Their fathers’ realm, this isle, from Pelops nam’d. —
Who made that triumph, though deferr’d, secure? 220
Who, but the kinsmen of the royal brood
Of Hercules, scarce Heracleidae less
Than they? these, and the Dorian lords, whose king
Aegimius gave our outcast house a home
When Thebes, when Athens dar’d not; who in arms 225
Thrice issued with us from their pastoral vales,
And shed their blood like water in our cause? —
Such were the dispossessors: of what stamp
Were they we dispossessed? — of us I speak,
Who to Messenia with thy husband came — 230
I speak not now of Argos, where his brother,
Not now of Sparta, where his nephews reign’d: —
What we found here were tribes of fame obscure,
Much turbulence, and little constancy,
Precariously rul’d by foreign lords 235
From the Aeolian stock of Neleus sprung,
A house once great, now dwindling in its sons.
Such were the conquer’d, such the conquerors: who
Had most thy husband’s confidence? Consult
His acts; the wife he chose was — full of virtues — 240
But an Arcadian princess, more akin
To his new subjects than to us; his friends
Were the Messenian chiefs; the laws he fram’d
Were aim’d at their promotion, our decline;
And, finally, this land, then half-subdued, 245
Which from one central city’s guarded seat
As from a fastness in the rocks our scant
Handful of Dorian conquerors might have curb’d,
He parcell’d out in five confederate states,