Delphi Complete Works of Aristophanes (Illustrated) (Delphi Ancient Classics)

by Aristophanes

  DIONYSUS. … and to let wind under the nose of the rower below them, to befoul their mate with filth and to steal when they went ashore. Nowadays they argue instead of rowing and the ship can travel as slow as she likes.

  AESCHYLUS. Of what crimes is he not the author? Has he not shown us procurers, women who get delivered in the temples, have traffic with their brothers, and say that life is not life. ’Tis thanks to him that our city is full of scribes and buffoons, veritable apes, whose grimaces are incessantly deceiving the people; but there is no one left who knows how to carry a torch, so little is it practised.

  DIONYSUS. I’ faith, that’s true! I almost died of laughter at the last Panathenaea at seeing a slow, fat, pale-faced fellow, who ran well behind all the rest, bent completely double and evidently in horrible pain. At the gate of the Ceramicus the spectators started beating his belly, sides, flanks and thighs; these slaps knocked so much wind out of him that it extinguished his torch and he hurried away.

  CHORUS. ’Tis a serious issue and an important debate; the fight is proceeding hotly and its decision will be difficult; for, as violently as the one attacks, as cleverly and as subtly does the other reply. But don’t keep always to the same ground; you are not at the end of your specious artifices. Make use of every trick you have, no matter whether it be old or new! Out with everything boldly, blunt though it be; risk anything — that is smart and to the point. Perchance you fear that the audience is too stupid to grasp your subtleties, but be reassured, for that is no longer the case. They are all well-trained folk; each has his book, from which he learns the art of quibbling; such wits as they are happily endowed with have been rendered still keener through study. So have no fear! Attack everything, for you face an enlightened audience.

  EURIPIDES. Let’s take your prologues; ’tis the beginnings of this able poet’s tragedies that I wish to examine at the outset. He was obscure in the description of his subjects.

  DIONYSUS. And which prologue are you going to examine?

  EURIPIDES. A lot of them. Give me first of all that of the

  ‘Orestes.’

  DIONYSUS. All keep silent, Aeschylus, recite.

  AESCHYLUS. “Oh! Hermes of the nether world, whose watchful power executes the paternal bidding, be my deliverer, assist me, I pray thee. I come, I return to this land.”

  DIONYSUS. Is there a single word to condemn in that?

  EURIPIDES. More than a dozen.

  DIONYSUS. But there are but three verses in all.

  EURIPIDES. And there are twenty faults in each.

  DIONYSUS. Aeschylus, I beg you to keep silent; otherwise, besides these three iambics, there will be many more attacked.

  AESCHYLUS. What? Keep silent before this fellow?

  DIONYSUS. If you will take my advice.

  EURIPIDES. He begins with a fearful blunder. Do you see the stupid thing?

  DIONYSUS. Faith! I don’t care if I don’t.

  AESCHYLUS. A blunder? In what way?

  EURIPIDES. Repeat the first verse.

  AESCHYLUS. “Oh! Hermes of the nether world, whose watchful power executes the paternal bidding.”

  EURIPIDES. Is not Orestes speaking in this fashion before his father’s tomb?

  AESCHYLUS. Agreed.

  EURIPIDES. Does he mean to say that Hermes had watched, only that Agamemnon should perish at the hands of a woman and be the victim of a criminal intrigue?

  AESCHYLUS. ’Tis not to the god of trickery, but to Hermes the benevolent, that he gives the name of god of the nether world, and this he proves by adding that Hermes is accomplishing the mission given him by his father.

  EURIPIDES. The blunder is even worse than I had thought to make it out; for if he holds his office in the nether world from his father….

  DIONYSUS. It means his father has made him a grave-digger.

  AESCHYLUS. Dionysus, your wine is not redolent of perfume.

  DIONYSUS. Continue, Aeschylus, and you, Euripides, spy out the faults as he proceeds.

  AESCHYLUS. “Be my deliverer, assist me, I pray thee. I come, I return to this land.”

  EURIPIDES. Our clever Aeschylus says the very same thing twice over.

  AESCHYLUS. How twice over?

  EURIPIDES. Examine your expressions, for I am going to show you the repetition. “I come, I return to this land.” But I come is the same thing as I return.

  DIONYSUS. Undoubtedly. ’Tis as though I said to my neighbour, “Lend me either your kneading-trough or your trough to knead in.”

  AESCHYLUS. No, you babbler, no, ’tis not the same thing, and the verse is excellent.

  DIONYSUS. Indeed! then prove it.

  AESCHYLUS. To come is the act of a citizen who has suffered no misfortune; but the exile both comes and returns.

  DIONYSUS. Excellent! by Apollo! What do you say to that, Euripides?

  EURIPIDES. I say that Orestes did not return to his country, for he came there secretly, without the consent of those in power.

  DIONYSUS. Very good indeed! by Hermes! only I have not a notion what it is you mean.

  EURIPIDES. Go on.

  DIONYSUS. Come, be quick, Aeschylus, continue; and you look out for the faults.

  AESCHYLUS. “At the foot of this tomb I invoke my father and beseech him to hearken to me and to hear.”

  EURIPIDES. Again a repetition, to hearken and to hear are obviously the same thing.

  DIONYSUS. Why, wretched man, he’s addressing the dead, whom to call thrice even is not sufficient.

  AESCHYLUS. And you, how do you form your prologues?

  EURIPIDES. I am going to tell you, and if you find a repetition, an idle word or inappropriate, let me be scouted!

  DIONYSUS. Come, speak; ’tis my turn to listen. Let us hear the beauty of your prologues,

  EURIPIDES. “Oedipus was a fortunate man at first …”

  AESCHYLUS. Not at all; he was destined to misfortune before he even existed, since Apollo predicted he would kill his father before ever he was born. How can one say he was fortunate at first?

  EURIPIDES. “… and he became the most unfortunate of mortals afterwards.”

  AESCHYLUS. No, he did not become so, for he never ceased being so. Look at the facts! First of all, when scarcely born, he is exposed in the middle of winter in an earthenware vessel, for fear he might become the murderer of his father, if brought up; then he came to Polybus with his feet swollen; furthermore, while young, he marries an old woman, who is also his mother, and finally he blinds himself.

  DIONYSUS. ‘Faith! I think he could not have done worse to have been a colleague of Erasinidas.

  EURIPIDES. You can chatter as you will, my prologues are very fine.

  AESCHYLUS. I will take care not to carp at them verse by verse and word for word; but, an it please the gods, a simple little bottle will suffice me for withering every one of your prologues.

  EURIPIDES. You will wither my prologues with a little bottle?

  AESCHYLUS. With only one. You make verses of such a kind, that one can adapt what one will to your iambics: a little bit of fluff, a little bottle, a little bag. I am going to prove it.

  EURIPIDES. You will prove it?

  AESCHYLUS. Yes.

  DIONYSUS. Come, recite.

  EURIPIDES. “Aegyptus, according to the most widely spread reports, having landed at Argos with his fifty daughters …”

  AESCHYLUS. … lost his little bottle.

  EURIPIDES. What little bottle? May the plague seize you!

  DIONYSUS. Recite another prologue to him. We shall see.

  EURIPIDES. “Dionysus, who leads the choral dance on Parnassus with the thyrsus in his hand and clothed in skins of fawns …”

  AESCHYLUS. … lost his little bottle.

  DIONYSUS. There again his little bottle upsets us.

  EURIPIDES. He won’t bother us much longer. I have a certain prologue to which he cannot adapt his tag: “There is no perfect happiness; this one is of noble origin, but poor; another of humble birth …”

>   AESCHYLUS. … lost his little bottle.

  DIONYSUS. Euripides!

  EURIPIDES. What’s the matter?

  DIONYSUS. Clue up your sails, for this damned little bottle is going to blow a gale.

  EURIPIDES. Little I care, by Demeter! I am going to make it burst in his hands.

  DIONYSUS. Then out with it; recite another prologue, but beware, beware of the little bottle.

  EURIPIDES. “Cadmus, the son of Agenor, while leaving the city of

  Sidon …”

  AESCHYLUS. … lost his little bottle.

  DIONYSUS. Oh! my poor friend; buy that bottle, do, for it is going to tear all your prologues to ribbons.

  EURIPIDES. What? Am I to buy it of him?

  DIONYSUS. If you take my advice.

  EURIPIDES. No, not I, for I have many prologues to which he cannot possibly fit his catchword: “Pelops, the son of Tantalus, having started for Pisa on his swift chariot …”

  AESCHYLUS. … lost his little bottle.

  DIONYSUS. D’ye see? Again he has popped in his little bottle. Come, Aeschylus, he is going to buy it of you at any price, and you can have a splendid one for an obolus.

  EURIPIDES. By Zeus, no, not yet! I have plenty of other prologues.

  “Oeneus in the fields one day …”

  AESCHYLUS. … lost his little bottle.

  EURIPIDES. Let me first finish the opening verse: “Oeneus in the fields one day, having made an abundant harvest and sacrificed the first-fruits to the gods …”

  AESCHYLUS. … lost his little bottle.

  DIONYSUS. During the sacrifice? And who was the thief?

  EURIPIDES. Allow him to try with this one: “Zeus, as even Truth has said …”

  DIONYSUS (to Euripides). You have lost again; he is going to say, “lost his little bottle,” for that bottle sticks to your prologues like a ringworm. But, in the name of the gods, turn now to his choruses.

  EURIPIDES. I will prove that he knows nothing of lyric poetry, and that he repeats himself incessantly.

  CHORUS. What’s he going to say now? I am itching to know what criticisms he is going to make on the poet, whose sublime songs so far outclass those of his contemporaries. I cannot imagine with what he is going to reproach the king of the Dionysia, and I tremble for the aggressor.

  EURIPIDES. Oh! those wonderful songs! But watch carefully, for I am going to condense them all into a single one.

  DIONYSUS. And I am going to take pebbles to count the fragments.

  EURIPIDES. “Oh, Achilles, King of Phthiotis, hearken to the shout of the conquering foe and haste to sustain the assault. We dwellers in the marshes do honour to Hermes, the author of our race. Haste to sustain the assault.”

  DIONYSUS. There, Aeschylus, you have already two assaults against you.

  EURIPIDES. “Oh, son of Atreus, the most illustrious of the Greeks, thou, who rulest so many nations, hearken to me. Haste to the assault.”

  DIONYSUS. A third assault. Beware, Aeschylus.

  EURIPIDES. “Keep silent, for the inspired priestesses are opening the temple of Artemis. Haste to sustain the assault. I have the right to proclaim that our warriors are leaving under propitious auspices. Haste to sustain the assault.”

  DIONYSUS. Great gods, what a number of assaults! my kidneys are quite swollen with fatigue; I shall have to go to the bath after all these assaults.

  EURIPIDES. Not before you have heard this other song arranged for the music of the cithara.

  DIONYSUS. Come then, continue; but, prithee, no more “assaults.”

  EURIPIDES. “What! the two powerful monarchs, who reign over the Grecian youth, phlattothrattophlattothrat, are sending the Sphinx, that terrible harbinger of death, phlattothrattophlattothrat. With his avenging arm bearing a spear, phlattothrattophlattothrat, the impetuous bird delivers those who lean to the side of Ajax, phlattothrattophlattothrat, to the dogs who roam in the clouds, phlattothrattophlattothrat.”

  DIONYSUS (to Aeschylus). What is this ‘phlattothrat’? Does it come from

  Marathon or have you picked it out of some labourer’s chanty?

  AESCHYLUS. I took what was good and improved it still more, so that I might not be accused of gathering the same flowers as Phrynichus in the meadow of the Muse. But this man borrows from everybody, from the suggestions of prostitutes, from the sons of Melitus, from the Carian flute-music, from wailing women, from dancing-girls. I am going to prove it, so let a lyre be brought. But what need of a lyre in his case? Where is the girl with the castanets? Come, thou Muse of Euripides; ’tis quite thy business to accompany songs of this sort.

  DIONYSUS. This Muse has surely done fellation in her day, like a Lesbian wanton.

  AESCHYLUS. “Ye halcyons, who twitter over the ever-flowing billows of the sea, the damp dew of the waves glistens on your wings; and you spiders, who we-we-we-we-we-weave the long woofs of your webs in the corners of our houses with your nimble feet like the noisy shuttle, there where the dolphin by bounding in the billows, under the influence of the flute, predicts a favourable voyage; thou glorious ornaments of the vine, the slender tendrils that support the grape. Child, throw thine arms about my neck.” Do you note the harmonious rhythm?

  DIONYSUS. Yes.

  AESCHYLUS. Do you note it?

  DIONYSUS. Yes, undoubtedly.

  AESCHYLUS. And does the author of such rubbish dare to criticize my songs? he, who imitates the twelve postures of Cyrené in his poetry? There you have his lyric melodies, but I still want to give you a sample of his monologues. “Oh! dark shadows of the night! what horrible dream are you sending me from the depths of your sombre abysses! Oh! dream, thou bondsman of Pluto, thou inanimate soul, child of the dark night, thou dread phantom in long black garments, how bloodthirsty, bloodthirsty is thy glance! how sharp are thy claws! Handmaidens, kindle the lamp, draw up the dew of the rivers in your vases and make the water hot; I wish to purify myself of this dream sent me by the gods. Oh! king of the ocean, that’s right, that’s right! Oh! my comrades, behold this wonder. Glycé has robbed me of my cock and has fled. Oh, Nymphs of the mountains! oh! Mania! seize her! How unhappy I am! I was full busy with my work, I was sp-sp-sp-sp-spinning the flax that was on my spindle, I was rounding off the clew that I was to go and sell in the market at dawn; and he flew off, flew off, cleaving the air with his swift wings; he left to me nothing but pain, pain! What tears, tears, poured, poured from my unfortunate eyes! Oh! Cretans, children of Ida, take your bows; help me, haste hither, surround the house. And thou, divine huntress, beautiful Artemis, come with thy hounds and search through the house. And thou also, daughter of Zeus, seize the torches in thy ready hands and go before me to Glycé’s home, for I propose to go there and rummage everywhere.”

  DIONYSUS. That’s enough of choruses.

  AESCHYLUS. Yes, faith, enough indeed! I wish now to see my verses weighed in the scales; ’tis the only way to end this poetic struggle.

  DIONYSUS. Well then, come, I am going to sell the poet’s genius the same way cheese is sold in the market.

  CHORUS. Truly clever men are possessed of an inventive mind. Here again is a new idea that is marvellous and strange, and which another would not have thought of; as for myself I would not have believed anyone who had told me of it, I would have treated him as a driveller.

  DIONYSUS. Come, hither to the scales.

  AESCHYLUS AND EURIPIDES. Here we are.

  DIONYSUS. Let each one hold one of the scales, recite a verse, and not let go until I have cried, “Cuckoo!”

  AESCHYLUS AND EURIPIDES. We understand.

  DIONYSUS. Well then, recite and keep your hands on the scales.

  EURIPIDES. “Would it had pleased the gods that the vessel Argo had never unfurled the wings of her sails!”

  AESCHYLUS. “Oh! river Sperchius! oh! meadows, where the oxen graze!”

  DIONYSUS. Cuckoo! let go! Oh! the verse of Aeschylus sinks far the lower of the two.

  EURIPIDES. And why?

  DIONYSUS. Because, lik
e the wool-merchants, who moisten their wares, he has thrown a river into his verse and has made it quite wet, whereas yours was winged and flew away.

  EURIPIDES. Come, another verse! You recite, Aeschylus, and you, weigh.

  DIONYSUS. Hold the scales again.

  AESCHYLUS AND EURIPIDES. Ready.

  DIONYSUS (to Euripides). You begin.

  EURIPIDES. “Eloquence is Persuasion’s only sanctuary.”

  AESCHYLUS. “Death is the only god whom gifts cannot bribe.”

  DIONYSUS. Let go! let go! Here again our friend Aeschylus’ verse drags down the scale; ’tis because he has thrown in Death, the weightiest of all ills.

  EURIPIDES. And I Persuasion; my verse is excellent.

  DIONYSUS. Persuasion has both little weight and little sense. But hunt again for a big weighty verse and solid withal, that it may assure you the victory.

  EURIPIDES. But where am I to find one — where?

  DIONYSUS. I’ll tell you one: “Achilles has thrown two and four.”

  Come, recite! ’tis the last trial.

  EURIPIDES. “With his arm he seized a mace, studded with iron.”

  AESCHYLUS. “Chariot upon chariot and corpse upon corpse.”

  DIONYSUS (to Euripides) There you’re foiled again.

  EURIPIDES. Why?

  DIONYSUS. There are two chariots and two corpses in the verse; why, ’tis a weight a hundred Egyptians could not lift.

  AESCHYLUS. ’Tis no longer verse against verse that I wish to weigh, but let him clamber into the scale himself, he, his children, his wife, Cephisophon and all his works; against all these I will place but two of my verses on the other side.

  DIONYSUS. I will not be their umpire, for they are dear to me and I will not have a foe in either of them; meseems the one is mighty clever, while the other simply delights me.

  PLUTO. Then you are foiled in the object of your voyage.

  DIONYSUS. And if I do decide?

  PLUTO. You shall take with you whichever of the twain you declare the victor; thus you will not have come in vain.

  DIONYSUS. That’s all right! Well then, listen; I have come down to find a poet.

  EURIPIDES. And with what intent?