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Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Matthew Arnold

Page 30

by Matthew Arnold


  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 ( THE CHORUS)

  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,

 

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