Campbell City (part 4 of 13)

Apollo. The oracle is falsified. Oedipus' father is no more, and how can he again find room for fear? -Oedipus, who enters at her bidding, is greatly relieved, but though part of the prophecy is cancelled, he still finds a root of bitterness in the other part. 'The Corinthian, thinking to complete the joy of Oedipus, the sight of whom as his destined sovereign revives the old man's fondness for his fosterson, discloses the secret which he had hitherto kept. The king may know that he is not the son of Polybus and Merope. But then of whom? 'The answers of the Corinthian, who tells all he knows, reveal this all too clearly to Jocasta. The whole weight of the calamity suddenly falls upon her. And she must bear it alone. A horror of darkness passes between her and her son, while he, in total unconsciousness of the blow, is wholly absorbed in the passionate desire, which had possessed him formerly and is now suddenly renewed - to know his origin, however mean or high. She goes her way in dreadful silence and he remains upon the stage (ll. g11- 1085).

ce mental condition of Oedipus at this moment may be thus conceived: - The agitation into which he has been thrown by thinking that he is the outlawed regicide makes him more than ever susceptible to new impressions. The news from Corinth finding him in this mood produce a powerful reaction. The thought of outlawry from Thebes, however dreadful in itself, was greatly aggravated by his having no other home to fly to: seeing that Corinth, to which his heart still clings, could not be approached by him while his parents Polybus and Merope still lived. The message of the Corinthian goes far to remove this obstacle. But for the lingering fear about his mother Merepe, which reason tells him not to listen to, he might return to the land of his affections, and be her king. To his spirit, that has been so tossed and shaken with doubt and fear, this thought has an intoxicating charm. He has no longer any place in Thebes, for which he once cared so tenderly, but the pain of this separation is overborne by the new hopes and old remembrances that crowd upon him. 'To have once slain a man who happened to be king of Thebes would be no intolerable burden for the king of Corinth. And when the last scruple has been removed, and he is also on the point of solving the personal doubt, which has racked his spirit in youth and coloured his whole history, Oedipus is infatuated. Heis possessed with a strange lightness, in which the troubles of his Theban kingdom, and his fear of outlawry, are eclipsed by the reawakened hopes of early days and the reckless impulse of discovery. He is willing to be the child of Fortune, who has made him great. For as the Corinthian monarchy was elective (Il. 939, 40), the succession would not be affected by the question of birth - The mental exaltation of Oedipus before the peripeteia is thus accounted for, and psychological truth keeps pace with tragic effect.

The Chorus, whose persistent loyalty is a high tribute to the worth of Oedipus, are infected by his excitement, and suggest flattering solutions of the mystery (ll. 1086-1109).

come unwillingly, and is unwilling to speak. For he knows that Oedipus is the murderer of the king. But when the Corinthian shepherd reminds him of the child of whom they both knew and declares that Oedipus is he, the old man is horror-stricken, and only under threats of torture from Oedipus, who is carried onward irresistibly, can he be persuaded to confess the truth. For now he sees the whole, of which only the half was known to him before. Oecedipus sees it at the same moment, and is overwhelmed with passionate despair. Few words are said on either side. The death of Laius is not once mentioned in this crowning scene (Il. 1110-1185).

The Chorus now lament the utter fall of Oedipus, for whom they still retain a mournful affection, and moralize over the instability of human things (Il. 1186-1222).

A messenger (ll. 1223-1296) reports the suicide of Jocasta and the self-blinding of Oedipus, who presently reappears with eyes still bleeding. His passion at first breaks from him in lyrical outbursts, and afterwards in a connected speech. Both the 'commos' and the 'rhesis' are amongst the most highly wrought in Sophocles (Il. 1297-1415). Before the final exit of Oedipus, the accumulated horror has been softened into pity, by the humbleness of the great broken heart before Creon, whom he had maligned so proudly, and by his yearning tenderness over his children, who are brought to receive his last farewell (ll. 1416-1514). They are taken from him again; and, as the solitary man is led away to darkness, the Chorus utter some lines of moral wisdom, which allow the overcharged feelings of the spectators to subside (Il. 1515-1530).

We should have been better able to judge of the extent to which the legend has been moulded by the art of Sophocles, if the Laius and Oedipus of Aeschylus, and his satyric drama called the Sphinx, had been preserved. The 'Septem contra Thebas' sufficiently indicates (and the notices in Pindar, Ol. 2. 38, Pyth. 4. 263, point in the same direction), that the story had been already considerably modified from the simple form in which it appears in the eleventh Odyssey (271 ff.) The disobedience of Laius had come to be regarded as the beginning of a curse which fell on all his descendants. The solution of the Sphinx' riddle, and the curse pronounced by Oedipus upon his sons, had become parts of the story: the locality of the parricide at the triple way, and the act of Oedipus in putting out his eyes, had been already added. Some of these additions, or all of them, may have been due to the Cyclic poets of the Tale of Thebes. But, if we may judge from the Phoenissae of Euripides, the common version of the legend followed the Odyssey in representing Oedipus as still reigning at Thebes after the death of his mother-queen. 'This was inconsistent with the tragic motive of Sophocles, who saw that the fall of Oedipus must be complete. He has also left out, or deferred, Oedipus' curse upon his sons, although a reminiscence of this part of the legend may perhaps be traced in the passing mention of them in ll. 1459-61, which heighten by contrast the tenderness with which he speaks of his daughters. Oedipus thus retains to the last the sympathy of the spectators, which a curse pronounced upon any of his children, occurring at this moment, as in the drama of Aeschylus (S. c. T. ll. 778-790), would have alienated. One point of difference between the two tragic writers 15 mentioned by the Scholiast on O. T. 1. 733. He quotes three lines from the Oedipus of Aeschylus, in which the 'triple way' is placed near Potniades, in the Theban territory, probably a seat of the worship of the Eumenides, where the legend of Oedipus had been preserved. Sophocles, by selecting the spot on the way to Delphi, has given a probable and natural connection to the parts of the story. Again, in one version of the legend, as G. Wolff has shown, the child of Laius was actually exposed, and found. But Sophocles, by inventing or adopting the incident of his transmission from hand to hand, has provided for the réle of the Theban servant who is the pivot of the whole action as treated by him. The drunken word, which makes so deep an impression, but is not thought worth remembering, is an invention of Sophocles. And there is some reason for thinking that he is original in choosing Corinth, rather than Sicyon, or some small town in the neighbourhood of Thebes, as the place where the foundling was adopted and brought up. It is evident how much this contributes to the cohesion of the plot. The visitation of the plague which occasions the discovery may also have been added by the poet, and may have been suggested to him by the opening of the Iliad, and possibly also by the plague at Athens.

The general characteristics of his treatment of the legend may be stated with more confidence. He dwells less than Aeschylus on the transmission of the curse from generation to generation, although the idea was familiar to him in connection with the story of Oedipus, as we know from several expressions in the Antigone. The attention of the spectator is concentrated on the life of Oedipus himself, and what most deserves notice is the extraordinary power with which the high fortune of the hero, his supreme position in the state, and the reverence of his people for him, are impressed on the imagination, the verisimilitude with which his infatuation is sustained, and the subtle and yet simple means by which the very incidents which awaken hope, - the response of the oracle, the recital of Jocasta, the message from Corinth, - are made to be the precursors of ruin.1 The passionate temper of Oedipus, which is the cause of the discovery, as before of the murder, gives an air of inherent probability to the whole action, and is also finely contrasted with his selfrestraint at critical moments in the conduct of the inquiry. The fortunes of Thebes, which are made so prominent at the opening of the drama, are lost sight of, as the action continues, in the intense interest with which the fate of Oedipus as an individual is followed to its consummation.

1 As whence the sun 'gins his reflection Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break, So from that spring, whence comfort seemed to come, Discomfort swells.' - Macbeth, i. 1.

The effectiveness of this treatment of the myth is heightened by the use of language, which, first of all, the poet, like Shakespeare in Macbeth, has "wisely made beautiful in proportion to the horror of the subject; secondly, the style of the first 1150 lines has a serenity and smoothness, which contrasts forcibly with the agitation of the concluding passages. This tone of quiet self-possession is especially marked in the commencement of the scenes in which the great discoveries are made (924 ff, ff.), Thirdly, in a great number of passages, the unconsciousness of the persons 1s shown by the calm utterance of words, in themselves quite natural at the time, which, if the speakers knew the truth, could not be used by them without a thrill of horror. Such expressions have the effect of reminding the spectator of the sad contrast between the appearance and the reality. The exact limits of this kind of double meaning in this play are a question of some difficulty for the interpreter. But the existence of such an element in the language of the Oedipus Tyrannus has been acknowledged by all commentators from the Alexandrian Scholiasts downwards. Long study of the play and familiarity with Sophocles may make it easier to distinguish between the true and false assumption of this kind of motive, and may commend some instances of it that appear doubtful at first sight. (See below, p. 130.) It is more important, however, to remember generally, that the language of the Oedipus Tyrannus is even more elaborate than that of other plays of Sophocles. The metres also are elaborately varied in accordance with the range of feeling expressed. 'The Paean-notes of the first chorus, and the Tonic-a-minore passages of the second, are without parallel in Sophocles. The dactylo-trochaics of the little ode which precedes the peripeteia, although common elsewhere in lyric poetry, have rarely been repeated by him. (But see Aj. 172 ff., Tr. 94 ff.) These measures all contrast with the smooth _glyconic strain which follows the catastrophe, although this, too, presently changes to less ordinary rhythms. 'The dochmiacs of the commation and commos are more than usually intricate, and even in the senarii, the frequency of trisyllabic feet, of which the motive is in most cases perceptible, the prevalence in some parts of 'light endings' and the exclusion of them in others, are indications of the fact that the metrical composition of the Tyrannus, as well as the language generally, has been worked up with more than usual care.

The characters of the persons in the Oedipus Tyrannus are extremely simple, but are well adapted to produce the kind of interest that is required. 'The generous and impulsive nature of Oedipus is one that never forfeits sympathy, but is manifestly born to trouble. The deep impression produced in him by a drunken word; the wild flicht into exile, on first hearing an oracle half understood; the sudden blow, 'out of his grief and his impatience;' the glorious, but temporary success; the undoubting self-confidence with which he takes the burden of the whole people upon himself; his bursts of anger against Teiresias and Creon, not brooking explanation; again, his haste in condemning himself on the first doubtful surmise, and the rash determination with which, dashing all else aside, he follows up the clue to the secret of his birth, are traits making up a consistent picture of an essentially tragic character. Not less impetuous afterwards in his despair, he will believe that not death alone awaits him, but that he is reserved for some more dreadful fate. And after the bloody act against himself, he is bent on rushing forth immediately into utter solitude. His remorse at the approach of Creon and his tender love for his daughters, his affectionate devotion to his people in the earlier scenes, and his open-hearted confidence with Jocasta, are quite in harmony with his passionate nature, while they effectually engage the sympathy of the spectator.

Jocasta's marble resoluteness contrasts with the impressionable excitability of Oedipus. While she believed the prophecy, she had given her young child with her own hand for destruction, after having seen her husband pierce its feet and tie them together. The pang with which she hears the messenger relate this fact, is the first and sole awakening of the maternal feeling so long suppressed. Yet by this violence to nature she had not saved her husband from being murdered. She now counsels Oedipus,.to whom she is strongly attached, to disregard the powers which.have so deceived her. The peremptory, imperious disposition of the queen, and the ascendency over her husband and brother, which her strength of will has obtained for her, are well indicated. While cold and reserved towards others, she has a deep affection for Oedipus, which is perhaps intended by the poet to have an instinctive source, and which appears most strongly and is most warmly reciprocated, when the crisis is approaching, and her impious confidence is at its height *.

Creon, in each of the two chief scenes in which he appears, is the impersonation of a cool reasonableness which serves as a minor contrast to the excitement of the king. Unlike Teiresias, he keeps his temper through the altercation, and in the concluding scene he will not assent to Gedipus' entreaty to be cast forth, without again inquiring of the oracle. He throughout remembers, what Oedipus everywhere forgets, that his position in the state is prior to the exaltation of Oedipus. His character, and the moralising aspect of the chorus, have the effect of throwing the more passionate elements of the drama into stronger relief.

Teiresias makes a contrast of another kind. The 'celestial light shining inwardly,' where all without is dark, gives a touching prominence to the mental blindness of the clear-sighted Oecedipus. The quick resentment of the prophet when recklessly accused, may appear strange, if we reflect that the real situation is completely known to him. But it causes him to break silence, and we are to remember that he is of the proud Cadmean line.

The remaining persons are the aged priest who heads the procession of suppliants, the messenger from Corinth, the herdsman of. Laius, on whom. the plot chiefly hinges, the second messenger, and the chorus of Theban elders. None of these are without character, and all contribute something to the general effect. The pious modesty with which the priest expresses his reverence for the king, ' not that we account you equal to the gods:' the heedless loquacity of the Corinthian, who, in ignorance of the consequence of his words, rejoices over Oedipus as a kind of foster son: the shrinking of the too-faithful servant from the murderer of his master, even when he knows less than half the truth, - all help to deepen the central impression. Even the prosaic sententiousness of the second messenger assists in heightening the interest of his recital, by showing how the scene had roused a common nature.

The Chorus stands in a peculiar relation to the chief agent. Caring above all for Thebes, they are bound to Oedipus by gratitude for his past services, and their loyalty to him is not easily shaken. Their affection for the stranger-prince even makes them sympathise in his illusions, and they are deeply affected by the catastrophe. Their leader takes part in the action at three chief points, helping to introduce Teiresias, attempting to mediate between Oedipus and Creon, and preparing the spectators for the coming of the Theban slave. But their chief function is to give utterance to the feelings which the successive scenes are calculated to arouse in the spectator.

In their first ode they express the grief and longing of the plaguestricken people. In the second, they echo the curse against the murderer, but, notwithstanding the dark saying of the prophet, remain true to Oedipus. The central episode is broken by a commaztion, (a minor lyrical dialogue in the midst of a scene,) in which they renew the expression of their firm affiance, while deprecating the king's anger against Creon. 'The Chorus here appear in the character, which they often have to sustain, of an ineffectual mediator. In the second stasimon the reaction from the impiety of the queen lifts them into a region of devout aspiration which is higher than their sympathy with Oedipus or their patriotic feeling. In the fourth ode, consisting of a few lines, they are again in unison with the mood of Oedipus, and in the concluding stasimon, as citizens of the city which he saved, they lament over his fall. 'Their constancy, as has been already said, is a continual tribute to his nobleness.

When Oedipus re-enters, and the commos begins, the gnomic wisdom of the chorus forms a cold contrast to his passionate words, and in the final trochees they recal themselves and the spectators from weak lamentations to read the lesson of the catastrophe.

If it is asked, what were the leading thoughts of Sophocles in composing this drama, it is not enough by way of answer to quote these concluding lines, which are chiefly intended to give a finish to the composition. And it may be well to ask in turn, In what sense is an ancient dramatist expected to have leading-thoughts or 'ground-ideas?' All tragedy aims at representing the sadness of life. The religious spirit of Greek tragedy saw in error and calamity a proof of the weakness of man and the power of the gods. And, in a reflective age, such representations could not but be accompanied with many thoughts on human destiny, which are necessarily coloured by the poet's individual genius, and by the mind and circumstances of his time. But the thoughts do not suggest the fable, and are not the first or principal motive of the composition. 'They arise in the progress of creation, as the tragic writer broods over the events and incidents to which he is giving shape. They are inseparable from the result, and contribute to the unity and impressiveness of the effect. The peculiar nature of this and every kind of poetry is greatly affected by the ideas which it expresses. But if by ' groundidea' is meant a fixed thought which the poet brings with him to determine the choice and treatment of his subject, the term is founded on a misconception.

The impiety of Jocasta, seen in the light of the approaching catastrophe, suggests a strain of reflection on the danger of impious pride and the eternal sovereignty of Justice and Truth. This helps to give a moral meaning to the ancient legend, although the fable was not chosen for the sake of the moral. So the fearful reverse of Oedipus reminds the chorus and the spectators of the proverbial uncertainty of human things and the mysterious purpose or envy of the gods. There are other turns of thought, belonging to the age, which the poet has adapted to the differences of situation and character. The considerations which Creon urges respecting the advantages of influence without actual power, are the same with those which Histiaeus is represented by Herodotus as putting before Darius; and the rationalism of Jocasta about the oracles, about fortune, and about Divine things, is not unlike what is often met with in Thucydides. Amongst these various paths of meditation, that which lies deepest is the conviction, which seems to have been gaining ground amongst thinking persons, that the most sacred laws are written only in the heart, (Thue. ii. 37).

But altogether apart from separate reflections, the whole situation, as treated by Sophocles, has a profound ethical significance. In displaying before us so vividly the horror of the loss of innocence even through an involuntary act, he has impressed anew on every feeling heart the infinite value of integrity and purity. And still more generally, the utter ruin of a life, as represented by him, while it strikes us with awe, has also the effect not of lowering but of greatly intensifying our interest in human things.

Other plays of Sophocles, of which the fable was taken from the Tale of Thebes, are the Antigone, the Oedipus Coloneus, and the Eriphyle or Epigoni, two names supposed by Welcker to belong to the same play. Of this, however, only a few lines have been preserved.

The Antigone is said, in the argument attributed to Aristophanes the grammarian, to be the thirty-second play of Sophocles in order of production, and the legend preserved by the same authority, which connects this drama with the command of Sophocles in the Samian war, assumes that it was written before 440 B.C. Whatever weight is to be attached to these data, they throw no direct light on the order of composition of the Oedipus Tyrannus and the Antigone. But there are several internal indications of the Antigone being the earlier of the two. (1) Notwithstanding the great strength and beauty of the Antigone, the Tyrannus gives a deeper impression of maturity and of concentrated artistic power. There is less mention of the power of fate and fewer of the common-places of the earlier tragedy. Such general considerations have, indeed, but an uncertain value. There are, however, some observations of detail of which the force can be made more evident. The first of these is the difference of metre. The anapaestic measures of the parados, and those which accompany the entrances of Creon, Antigone, Ismene, and Haemon, have often been remarked as notes of an earlier style in the Antigone ; and the introduction of the commation in the middle of a long episode in O. T. 649 ff. (cp. O. C. 834 ff.), may be thought to betray the later composition of this drama.

(2) There are certain topics which are common to the Oedipus Tyrannus and Antigone, the interview of the king and prophet, the suspicion of the tyrant, the sudden exit of one bent on suicide, similarly misunderstood by a person who is nearly interested. In both there is an appeal to the sanctity of the unwritten law. Let any one compare closely the parallel passages in the two plays in which these topics are treated, making due allowance for the difference of situations, and he will hardly resist the impression that what in the Antigone is a hint or first thought, has received more complete elaboration in the Oedipus Tyrannus. The noble lines in which Antigone sets the eternal principles against the edict of Creon, have all the fervour and some of the sharpness of a first utterance; the opening of the second stasimon of the Tyrannus has more of depth and serenity. The part of Teiresias is much more highly wrought in the altercation with Oedipus than in the scene with Creon in the Antigone.

(3) If we are to believe the tradition that Sophocles was made general in B.C. 440 because of the Antigone, and also assume that the plague at Athens and the disorders attendant on the Peloponnesian War have left their traces on the Oedipus Tyrannus, a large interval is set between the two plays. But this double assumption is too uncertain to build upon.

The relation of the Oedipus Tyrannus to the Oedipus Coloneus may be reserved for the introduction to the latter play - which on many grounds may be assumed to be subsequent to the former in the order of composition. The interpretation of the earlier drama is little affected by considerations taken from the later one. They are not like the parts of a trilogy, or of an epic poem, in which every part throws light on every other and on the original design, but only productions of the same mind working in-kindred subjects at different times.

The Oedipus Tyrannus, being one of the three plays most constantly read, was much more frequently copied than the Oedipus Coloneus or even the Antigone, and the pages of L (MS. Laur. 32, 9) which contain it have beem much corrected. 'The traditional text is, however, on the whole remarkably consistent, and-presents few places where there is any obvious uncertainty. That it takes us further back than to the first hand of L. appears from 1. 800, omitted by L. p. m., which is found in several MSS. anterior to the hand which has inserted it in L. mg.; and also from 1. 896, where the words in the text of L. are a corruption of which appears as part of a gloss in Trin. R. 3, 31, and some other MSS. Other readings, e.g. 1. 193, 1. 229, have such a wide currency in other MSS. including those of Sec. 13, that they are probably also derived from some earlier source. But the universal corruption of several lines, e.g. 281, 404, 876, 892, 1102, 1217, 1279, 1505, 1526; and the general agreement in a perverse division of the lyrical parts, point to a common source of all the remaining MSS. belonging to a time when the tragic dialect, and especially the tragic metres, had been to a great extent forgotten.

On The So-Called Irony Of Sophocles

THE interest of dramatic poetry is necessarily sustained by contrast. The tragic poet especially, whose whole aim is to impress on the spectator, through sympathy, the effect of great vicissitudes upon a noble heart, must have continual recourse to this means of vivifying his work. And as the change which falls on men unlooked for has the most effect on them, he is often led to indicate the unconsciousness with which his imaginary persons go to meet their doom.

To this contrast between the apparent and the real situation, especially where the unconsciousness of the chief persons is strongly marked, it has of late been customary to give the name of Irony. But in their treatment of this common motive dramatic poets differ according to the spirit in which they regard the sadness of life, and also according to the fineness of their work and the degree in which their art is artfully concealed. It was probably this latter ground that © suggested the brilliant Essay written in youth by the late Bishop Thirlwall on the Irony of Sophocles. For it is certain that whatever may be the true name for the expedient in question, it is used by Sophocles like all else with singular grace and subtlety. But when Irony is put forward as distinctively characteristic of the dramatic art of Sophocles, or indeed as the leading feature of his method, it may be doubted whether sufficient account is taken of the tone of feeling with which the poet would have the spectator view the persons on the stage, or of the degree and kind of sympathy which he intends his different tragic persons to inspire. In the Antigone, for example, the fate of Creon and that of the heroine are very differently treated. Nor does anything in Sophocles so well deserve the name of Irony as Aeschylus' representation of the triumph of Clytemnestra over her husband; where the spectators have just been taught by Cassandra to contrast the queen's present exultation with her impending fall: - -or as the treatment of Xerxes by Herodotus, or of Athens by Thucydides in his 'Melian Controversy.' For the word 'irony' in ordinary use and to the common apprehension implies the absence or suppression of sympathy, and it cannot therefore be applied indiscriminately to every kind of dramatic contrast. Indeed it is singularly inappropriate to the embodiment of the nobler types of humanity in the dramatic art of Sophocles. He may encourage the spectator to be ironical towards Aegisthus and occasionally

The author of the great portrait statue of Sophocles (now in the Lateran Museum) had a truer conception of the poet. 'There is nothing ironical in the fulness of pure humanity that breathes from every line of that noble figure.

So much may serve by way of preface to the following remarks. They were originally suggested by Bishop Thirlwall's Essay, first printed in the Philological Museum (vol. ii. pp. 483-537) and lately republished amongst his Literary Remains.

It has sometimes been attempted to embrace all the characteristics of an artist or of a school of art in a single word. Such terms as 'ideal, ' realistic,' 'sentimental,' 'euphuism,' 'romantic,' ' classical,' have had an important influence on the criticism of art and literature, and in their application have been often pressed beyond their legitimate scope. Words properly applicable to painting or sculpture are extended to poetry, without sufficient perception of the point where the analogy fails. Or a word is used which roughly expresses some general features of an artist's style, and is then made to include other qualities which appear on a closer examination. The new expression in such cases at first seems to teach something, but is afterwards found to limit observation, to confuse thought, and to strain the use of language.

Irony is not always humorous or malicious, but is always accompanied with the consciousness of superiority. When one who knows pretends ignorance and so makes his knowledge felt, or a strong man assumes weakness and gives thereby a greater impression of strength, or a proud man feigns humility and by outwardly affecting to be lower places himself higher, or when a weak adversary is represented as strong, or an ignorant disputant as learned and wise, this kind of dissimulation, prompted by confidence, is called irony.

We cannot speak of an irony of feeling, because irony consists in a certain relation of feeling to expression. And by a 'practical irony' we can only mean a course of action which, taken as an expression of feeling, is analogous to ironical language. The treatment of Ajax by Athena in the first scene of the Ajax of Sophocles may fairly enough be regarded as an instance of this. ,

By a bold personification, we speak of the Irony of Fortune or the Irony of Fate. By which we mean little more than the striking contrast of conditions in the life of the same person, and each man's ignorance of ' what a day may bring forth.' We do not speak of an Irony of Providence, because we do not attribute to the Supreme Being either the need of dissembling or the desire of making a display of superior power. The ancient Greeks have nowhere used such an expression, although would seem at first sight to be no inapt rendering of their popular conception of the dealing of Gow with man, inflating his vain glory with the appearance of success in order to cast him down from his pinnacle into the depths of misery. And we feel on further reflection that it could hardly have been thus used in seriousness by the great Attic writers, not merely because the word always retains in Greek a slight association of blame, but because the thing is inconsistent with the higher Greek+ notion of the tenour of Divine action. If the Gods hid their purposes for a while and seemed to delay their judgments, this was not merely to prove their own wisdom, but to execute justice in the earth. The gods of Aristophanes, perhaps even the deity of Herodotus, might be represented as indulging irony, but not the beings who were reverenced by Aeschylus and Sophocles. They might be regarded sometimes as cruel and deceptive, more often as righteously severe, but to speak of them as using irony would have seemed to lower them. For irony is not the natural language of absolute power, but of power which for the moment is withheld. Once more, we may remark that there are passages in other poets, to which the word may be more naturally applied than to anything in Sophocles, e.g. to the scene in the Bacchae, ll. 912-976, where the supposed - Stranger leads Pentheus into the forest. But even here the spectator's sense of the omnipotence of Dionysus renders the word 'ironical' most inadequate, even if applicable, to characterize the treatment of the mortal by the God. |

The proper place for irony in literature is in argument. Either the case of an opponent is eloquently and persuasively stated just before it is reduced to absurdity, or some question, asked 'in all humility,' touches the weak place as with the point of a needle; or some ridiculous parallel is put with respectful gravity. The Platonic Socrates abounds with instances of all these forms, and his profes- . sion of ignorance is an ironical mask. Noone can miss the meaning of the term as applied to Plato's dialogues generally.

But when the Irony of Sophocles is spoken of, we have a right to ask for a clearer explanation than the word in this application has received.

We are told? first, that there is an earnest irony, in which conviction and feeling are repressed by their very strength. It is true that there are feelings too strong for words; but it depends on the nature of the feeling whether the eloquence of silence can be justly termed ironical. Inexpressible contempt, for instance, may be shown by silence, and if the silence is accompanied by some gesture of feigned respect, this is 'practical irony.' But what of the dumbness of amazement, or the silent gaze of pity? Is anything gained for thought or language by terming these ironical, because the person knows or perceives what he will not express?

We are also told of 'the look which a superior intelligence, exempt from our passions, and foreseeing the consequences of all our actions, would cast upon the tumultuous workings of our blind ambition and our groundless apprehensions, upon the phantoms we raise to chase us or to be chased, while the substance of good and evil presents itself to our view and is utterly disregarded' Now if such a being is supposed to withhold his warning voice that he may see out the spectacle of our folly and misery, and prove himself wiser than we 'are in the end, that may again by a stretch of language be called practical irony, though it would seem to be necessary that he should communicate his triumph to some one - for there is no irony in mere feeling. But this is not the temper in which superior intelligences have been supposed to regard the 'pranks which frail man plays before high heaven ;' nor is it exactly the temper even of the Greek gods. They are not cold speculative beings, but strong, determined natures, whose envy is another word for justice, and who are not bent on making a show of power or wisdom, but simply on bringing to pass their righteous but mysterious will.

Then we are reminded of the 'irony of fate or of fortune, as exemplified in the high prosperity which, as in the case of Xerxes or of Athens, immediately precedes the most ruinous disaster. Of this irony the tragic poet is said to be the exponent. He is in the place of fate or of Providence to his mimic sphere. Considered in this aspect, the thesis deserves to be considered a little more closely.

Is the poet in arranging his plot supposed to find a peculiar pleasure in knowing the end from the beginning, and to be conscious of a certain superiority over the imaginary persons, who strut their hour upon his stage, and, in a less degree, over the audience whom he keeps waiting for the catastrophe? Every writer of fiction has the same opportunity with the tragic poet of doing what he will with the persons of his fiction, and keeping the reader or hearer in suspense. But what artist ever thought in this way about his work? What Greek artist ever thought of anything but the work itself and the end of the work, which in the case of the dramatic poet is the impression to be produced upon the spectators? The motive of the dramatist can no more be studied apart from his audience than the ideal of the sculptor or musician can be separated from the senses of sight and hearing. The intention of the poet is one with the feeling of the spectator. If irony was what the spectator enjoyed, then irony was what the poet meant, but not otherwise.

We are brought, then, to look at the question from the point of view of the Greek spectator, who, be it remembered, is a very different person from the modern critical reader. We have already dismissed as unmeaning the phrase 'ironical feeling ;' but it is still possible that the feeling of the spectator may have been analogous to the interest with which a bystander watches an exhibition of irony.

1. It is not to be denied that the Greeks delighted in witnessing any clever deception - and this is a motive which in various forms re-appears in different parts of their literature, from the dream sent by Zeus to deceive Agamemnon into deceiving the people, to the entrapping of Thrasymachus by Socrates. How far some feeling allied to this may have entered into the complex charm of tragedy, - whether in short in this also as in the pleasure of comedy there was an element of édvos', is a question of considerable subtlety, and one which the use of a word of doubtful intention rather helps to obscure. In some places it is manifestly present, as when Electra addresses words of double meaning to Clytemnestra and Aegisthus, who do not know that they are in the power of Orestes*. The same feeling may exist in other places, where it is less obvious at first sight. But to draw forth this latent element and treat it as the prevailing characteristic of Sophocles, is to superinduce over Greek tragedy a superficial form which it does not really wear, and greatly to injure its essential simplicity and depth.

2. The Greeks, like other people, delighted in contrast, especially in the contrast between apparent and real fortune. This is one amongst several reasons of what has been thought an anomaly in the Iliad - the long continued successes of the Achaeans before the fulfilment of the promise given to Thetis in B. 1. The Greeks of the fifth century B.C. had become profoundly aware of the actual contrasts in life and history, and in reflecting upon these had formed the conception of a jealous and vindictive Deity, who in some inscrutable way was also just and good, who visited offences to the third generation, and led on. the proud and presumptuous man insensibly to his fall. This thought, which throws a shadow over the narrative of Herodotus, was essential to the life of tragedy; to the work of Aeschylus even more than of Sophocles. But is every contrast between appearance and reality to have the name of irony? Must not this depend on the spirit in which the contrast is regarded ? And. what was the frame of mind with which the spectator saw the culmination and overthrow of the power of Agamemnon or Oedipus? Did he mentally assume the position of a superior being, watching with tranquil interest the ignorance and vainglory of an ephemeral creature, or, like the refined critic of a later age, 'hold the balance even' between conflicting interests? Or was he swayed by the emotions of pity, awe, and fear; with pity for the human victim of fate and circumstance, with fear of the mysterious Power to which men seem to be as waifs in the stream, a fear, however, in which there predominates an awful sense of the righteousness of Divine retribution, not unaccompanied with occasional questionings of spirit; as if man were striving to pierce beyond the apparent darkness of his lot? If the latter description is nearer to the truth, it is mere confusion to speak of such feelings as the enjoyment of irony. Still less can the word be made to include the inverse contrast which constitutes the interest of dramas of reconciliation, like the Philoctetes and

1 Plat. Phileb. 50. A subtlety that has 2 Cp. Aesch. Ag. g11. The nature and escaped Plato may be considered ques- extent of irony in Sophocles would have tionable. The mixture which he finds been better understood, if the Electra in tragedy is evidently rather than the Oedipus Tyrannus had been + made the starting-point of the inquiry.

INTRODUCTION. 131 the Oedipus Coloneus, where the opposition is between the apparent or present misery of the chief person and his ultimate happiness - the interest being sustained by incidents which retard without preventing the attainment of this. Here the supporter of our thesis has to maintain not only an irony of calamity, but of an irony of beneficence: 'concealing the reality of good behind the appearance of evil!' Ingenuity could hardly be carried farther than this in straining the application of a term'.

'But, it will be said, 'what name is to be given to the adaptation of language by which the opposition of appearance and reality 15 made effective? How are the allusions to the catastrophe in the earlier part of the Oedipus Tyrannus, for exampie, to be described?' I can suggest nothing better than 'pathetic contrast. But whatever name may be given to it, the differentia of Sophocles is not here. For this is common to him with all great writers of tragedy, and even in his subtle use of it he is occasionally rivalled by Shakspeare. When Imogen first misses the jewel, which Jachimo has stolen in order to destroy her husband's peace of mind, she says -

1 do think I saw t this morning: confident I am Last night "twas on mine arm; I kiss'd it: i hope it be not gone to tell my lord That I kiss aught but he." - WShak. Cymb. ii. 3.

Her innocent fancy plays unconsciously upon the cruel truth. But is this irony or pathos*? And there is pathos, though of a sterner kind, where the Soothsayer is introduced to Caesar by Casca and Brutus (J.C. i. 2), or where Cassius, who is himself working upon Brutus to his harm, says, 'It is meet that noble minds keep ever with their likes;' or where Duncan says of Cawdor before Macbeth, 'It is a gentleman on whom I built an Absolute trust ;' and of a more tragic kind where Desdemona says in answer to Emilia's 'Is he not jealous?" ' Who, he? I think the sun where he was born Drew all such humours from him.' But irony is no word for this. The Scholiast has a better name for such expressions, when he says, - ' The audience must have been moved here.' In an ancient tragedy, unlike the modern novel, the hearer knew the outline of the story. The difficulty of sustaining interest was thus increased, and at the same time greater opportunities were given for exhibiting contrast, which could be held forth not only retrospectively but by anticipation. In numberless places the unconsciousness of the persons adds greatly to the effect, and the impression of such unconsciousness is heightened by the calm serenity of the language, which is like 'the torrent's

: 2 What meaning would there be in describing the angel in Parnell's 'Hermit' as acting ironically? And yet the term is more nearly applicable in this case than in that of the Oedipus Coloneus.

pathetic and not ironical, as when Hero says of Beatrice (in Much Ado, iii. 1) - 11 devise some honest slanders To stain my cousin with. One doth not know, How much an ill word may empoison smoothness ere it rush below.' But this subdued tone, or /z/oées, is sufficiently explained by the love of contrast, without inopportunely bringing in the notion of irony *.

3. Any intention of the poet apart from the impression which he aims at producing, is merely imaginary, and in the impression at which Sophocles aimed, the effect of irony was accidental and occasional, not necessary or universal. Considered in this aspect, the word does not truly express the ruling motive of his art. But there is still a lurkingplace for the theory which has not been fully explored. The tragic poet could not but convey to the people his own conception of the Divine working. Was not irony an essential element of that conception in the mind of Sophocles? Some reasons for denying this have been already given. It is inconsistent with the highest reverence. It does not agree with the conception of perfect strength. We may now add that in so far as the opinion of Sophocles on this subject can be distinguished from the dramatic motives of which we have already spoken, he seems to have risen above the common notion of the vindictive and jealous nature of the gods. He certainly had not exchanged this for the refined cynicism of believing in a Deity of clear perceptions and narrow sympathies. A deep sense, not of the Divine irony, but of the Divine power as shown in the wonder and the mystery of human life, is that which gives to his dramas much both of their substance and their form.

The truth which this phrase, 'The Irony of Sophocles,' is intended to comprehend in one, is better expressed by speaking separately - (1) of the power of God as an element in Greek tragedy; (2) of the effect of contrast in exciting wonder, and intensifying pity and fear ; (3) of the subtle use of language in pointing contrasts through "odes, double meanings, and suggestions of the truth; (4) of the ethical genius of Sophocles, unobtrusively making felt the full meaning of every situation; (5) of the pathetic force with which by a few simple touches he stirs the deepest springs of feeling. 'The temptation to embrace things so diverse in one word, has arisen from the peculiar subtlety and humanity with which Sophocles has employed the idea of Fate, from his artistic reserve, or parsimony, from the harmony of his composition, and from the artifices which he has employed without marring the simplicity of his art to send home the pathos of the catastrophe.

Sophocles is certainly a subtle writer, but all subtlety is not irony, and subtlety is only one attribute of his genius. When he employs irony, as all writers and speakers do sometimes, his irony has a high degree of refinement.

But to express the prevailing character of his works, the word 'irony' is at once too comprehensive and too narrow. 'Too comprehensive, because implying the prevalence of a motive which only enters partially and occasionally into particular scenes: too narrow, because leaving out of sight the greater part of the impression

1 A similar effect is sometimes pro- consciousness, but through presentiment : duced not through the impression of un- in Hotspur, Cassius, Hamlet.

which the poet intended to produce. It confuses the feeling of the spectator with a supposed intention in the mind of the author, who in a dramatic writing necessarily stands behind his work, and with the idea of Fate, or of the power of Zeus, which is weakened and misrepresented by the use of the term *. It detracts from the simplicity and tenderness which are amongst the chief merits of the Sophoclean drama. It injures the profound pathos of Greek tragedy by suggesting the suspicion of an arrzére pensée, of the poet's face behind the mask, surveying his own creations with a sardonic smile. It puts in the place of the Athenian spectator, with his boundless susceptibility of emotion, an imaginary reader or student, who has leisure to reflect on matters external to the immediate action, and abundant calmness of judgment to give a dispassionate verdict in the controversy between God and man.

1 Passages like Aesch. Eum. 560, literal expression of the poet's thought, are not the and they do not occur in Sophocles.

Additional Note On 0. T.

Oedipus has no right to assume that Jocasta's former husband was advanced in years; and, recalling the venerable appearance of the man whom he slew, he hopes for a reply the very opposite of that which he receives.

Iepeys. Aitteaos

There is also a or band of supernumeraries, to represent the suppliants who throng the altars of the house of Oedipus in the opening scene.

N.B. L.=1ist hand of Laur, 32, 9 C.=any corrector of the same. C= correction by rst hand. C?,=correction by the C**, = correction by the Scholiast. (3. C# C>.=corrections by different hands of the 12th century. C®. a hand of the 13th or 14th century. a hand of the 14th or 15th century. (8, a hand of the 15th or 16th century. A°.=corrector of A, ete.

Before the dialogue begins, the suppliants are seen to enter on the spectator's right, with wool-wreathed olivewands in their left hands (Aesch. Suppl. 193). Marshalled by the Priests, they eagerly approach the altars, on the steps of which they lay their wands (Ib. 242). Before this movement is completed, Oedipus enters to them by the central door. There was probably at least one altar on either side of this, that of Apollo Lycaeus (1. 919) being one, and the approach of Creon, who comes from the country, would be seen by those on the spectator's left (11. 78, 9), before becoming visible to Oedipus or to the Priest of Zeus, who remains on the right.

1.°Q Oecdipus addresses the Thebans as the strangerprince, - who will soon be discovered to belong to the race which he governs. Cp, the answer in 1. 14, which recalls his foreign origin, and see infr. 452, 3, | 'objects of my care," expressing the tenderness not of Cadmus but of Oedipus for his 'children; a rare use of abstract for concrete. See Essay on Language, p 94. is gen. of origin. 'O latest offspring of old Cadmus, children who are my care.' =* Why do ye thus sit (or kneel) here with so much haste? The king in entering has observed (or before entering has heard from others, ll. 6, 7) the earnestness with which the suppliants have taken their places by the altars, and he regards this as one of the signs of trouble in the city. The meaning here given to is that which it has everywhere in Euripides, who uses it frequently. Another = is mentioned by grammarians, and has been generally assumed to be the verb found in this and two other places of classical Greek, viz. Aesch. Suppl. 595, Emped. 1.18. But it is at least questionable whether the meaning 'to hasten' is not admissible in both of these. And in the present case it is unobjectionable. For however slow and staid the movements on the proscenium actually were, they are often described in the dialague as rapid and hurried. (El. 872, O. C. 887.) Cp. esp. Aesch. Suppl. 209, addressed by Danaiis to the suppliant maidens, who are taking their places at the altar. It must be admitted, however, that the authority of Plutarch (de Aud. Poet. 2. 22 E) counts for something in favour of the other meaning, and that it suits the context equally well.

3. Instead of saying simply 'equipped with supplant boughs,' the more descriptive = " enfilleted' (infr. 1.19) is used, occasioning a pleonasm like that in Pind. Nem. 10. 43, diddas, i.e. 'Well provided with woollen wreaths.'

4. The form of interrogation is dropped. The pleonastic ('who are not myself,') in apposition to makes the antithesis more explicit. Cp. Eur. Or. 532, | Hat. 50,

4, 5. The expression is slightly inaccurate. Oedipus begins with the antithesis of what is seen and heard, and the further antithesis (between the signs of hope and grief) is suggested to him. Hence the second has a double use. 'The city is at the same time full of offerings of incense, and of groanings which mingle with the sounds of the paean.'

8. ' The world-renowned Oedipus by name. This line introduces Oedipus to the spectators in the simple manner of ancient tragedy, and strengthens the impression of his perfect security.

g, 10. 'Since you stand forth as the person naturally fitted to speak before' or 'on behalf of these.' here appears in transition from 'being conspicuous' to 'being suitable.' is partly 'foremost among,' partly 'in be-

10. Means not merely, ' How are you?' but, 'In what wise are ye present here?' Oedipus addresses the priest and his companions, who are evidently there to crave an audience, The exact word for this is Cp. Pind. Pyth. 4. 135, p : Hdt. 1. 152, Also in Hat. 3.46. (Trin. gl. The Ist pers. in mpoonpeda 1. 15, 1. 32, 1. 147, does not necessarily imply that the priest spoke in the attitude of supplication. But on comparing Aesch. Suppl. 208, Eur. Heracl. 238, this does seem possible, and might add to the apparent greatness of Oedipus. For in this case, cp. O. C. 23, where Oedipus is sitting.

11. orepfavres| gavres, which appears in some later MSS, but not in all, and as a very late correction of L, was perhaps invented to suit the gloss, tropeivayTés a late meaning of being 'to endure.' Cp. gloss in Par. E. on 1. 341, is not an Attic form. is right in the sense of desiring or having the affections fixed on something, Cp. O.C. 1094, ov dpwyas | wodety: Plat. Legg. 10. 907 C, and see in 1. 59. 'In what manner do you stand here? in consequence of what fear? or of what desire?' i.e. 'What desire or fear has brought you?' The force of the interrogative is continued in the participles. is quoted by the Scholiast, who interprets, But Ocedipus asks, not, 'Is the evil present or past?' - that some blow had fallen was clear - but, 'What is the feeling with which you come?' Others connect as, «.7.A., immediately with orépgavres in the sense of 'being resigned.' 'Having made up your minds to suffer, in the belief that, etc.' But although this interpretation gives the more ordinary meaning to orépéavTes, it has the capital fault of making Oedipus express his main assurance to the people in a parenthesis, or in a suppressed clause. ws refers to ' Tell me, and believe, etc.'

13. For the redundant here, see Essay on L. § 29, 3.¢. p. 50. The participial epexegesis implies a negative condition (i.e. ef of the negative statement and has pointed reference to the case actually present.

14. The priest, speaking for the people, recounts the calamities of the state and adjures Oedipus to be once more their saviour. Of his power and wisdom they have no doubt; they only ask that he shall be willing to save them. He is the lord of circumstance, the proved friend of Heaven; once he has rescued them from destruction. let him not suffer them again to fall. This is so expressed as to show how unconscious all the persons are, (1) of the designs of the gods respecting Oedipus, (2) of the impiety which he will display when tempted (31), (3) of the coming destruction not of the city but of Oedipus himself.

'Of what ages, - young children, chosen youths, and aged priests; the ages most befitting supplication. The priest calls attention to this point in order to conciliate the sympathy of the king. 'At thy altars,' i.e. the altars (of Apollo and perhaps other deities), before the king's palace. Cp. 919. 'Thou seest how we, who are of such different ages, are seated at thine altars; some not yet able to go far' (lit. 'fly,' the familiar Greek image of veoo- 'some weak with age, who are priests, as I am of Zeus; and these chosen youths. =

18. The priest points out the youths who are near him. This is the most probable reading. The Epic of is without parallel in Sophocles, and probably in tragedy. (In Aesch. Cho. 490, or may be read.) of an early conjecture of Wunder's (cp. Suidas, Aexrés, AExTol. TopoxdAys), and since extracted by Diibner from the

Laurentian MS, has not really the authority of this MS. (for the letter is lost, and was more probably the form «ee, i.e. ere without elision), and is of doubtful meaning; though it may slightly be confirmed by Ant. 790, én The erasure has most probably been occasioned by the form 6.6 for ere (in of re), which the corrector altered for the sake of dividing the words. The word Aexvoi at the beginning of the line (cp. Homer), although to be taken strictly with only, helps to point the more general antithesis between and

For the meaning of 'unmarried youth,' cp. the Homeric re, and Eur. Phoen. 945, Also Plato, Legg. 8. 840

19. 'And there is another gathering which, etc.' The article is appositional, as in the Homeric (II. 22. 162). And has an adverbial force. Cp. El. 601, 6 ' And besides ourselves there is a gathering inthe Agora.' See Essay on L. § 21. p. 33.

20. Two different marketplaces are mentioned by Xenophon (Hell. 5. 2, 29) and Pausanias. But the plural is more probably simply poetical, as in Od. 8. 16, re | The shrine of Artemis Eucleia (1. 161) and probably others also, were in the Agora.

21. The river Ismenus, a son of Apollo, was supposed to have an interest in the temple of Apollo on his bank, where divination was practised through burnt-sacrifice (Hdt. 8. 134). The ' prescient embers' are the ashes of such burnt-sacrifices. 'By the ashes of divination that are sacred to Ismenus ;' i.e. 'Where men use divination through burnt-sacrifice at Ismenus' shrine.'

22. See ll. 4,5. 'For our state, as you perceive, begins to be overwhelmed by the storm, and can no longer raise her head out of the depths of the cruel seas. Cp. Plato, Legg. 923, cadevoyTas: Ant, 169,

26. | i.e. ' Wasting in the herds of oxen at their pastures: ais The expression is not quite exact, but the latter part of the compound is subordinate. See Essay on L. p. tol; ib. § 40. p. 75. Bovvopos is differently used by Aesch. Fr. 245.

Te A sort of oxymoron. Cp. 163, 4, | 'In the Jabours of women who have no strength to bring forth.' is (1) adverbial, and (2) is to be resumed with suggesting évoxnas. 'And there, too, has lighted that fire from heaven, a hateful plague. which harasses the city.' For the use of cp. El. 179, pys : Simonides Amorgin. Fr. 7.102, The personification is carried further by the chorus, |. k.T.A. Fire is here the symbol not of fever but of destruction. Cp.191,470. The article 6 marks the vividness with which the thing mentioned is present to the mind of the speaker.

30. orevaypots "15 enriched by lamentations and groans;' probably with an allusion to which is hardly translatable in English. Cp. Plat. Crat. 403 A, TOU The groans of the dying and the lamentations over the dead augment the honours of the god of death. Cp. Ant. 510, "Aldns

321. The supplants are sitting at the family altars of the king (which have the same kind of sacredness that belongs to the hearth), reveling him not asa god but for his human and inspired wisdom. The pious moderation of the chorus is contrasted with the impiety afterwards displayed by the king and queen; and their description of Oedipus as the child of success and Providence points bitterly to the sequel, see esp. 1. 25, Kad- : (iva Schol.)

is governed, by the verbal notion in = 'To you we pray not as if you were the equal of the gods.' The expression becomes more personal as the sentence proceeds, so that takes the place of or 'To sit at the altar of the palace was, like sitting at the hearth, a form of supplicating the king. Cp. Eur. Heracl. sub init.

33. Te 'In the common accidents of life, and in the visitations of Heaven,' or ' when we have to do with the gods.' here as elsewhere has the meaning of intercourse or connection with. 'Quanta vero ironia subest lis verbis! Nam quis, alio sensu, homo unquam extitit ipso Oedipo calamitosior? quis Deos magis iratos expertus ?' Pellucioni. Cp. infr. 1205- 1311. See Introd. and the Appendix on the so called Irony of Sophocles.

35. 7] The reading is taken from the citation of the Scholiast, who writes The construction is similar to 1, 694, .. : and though would not be out of place, Te aptly prepares the way for in 1. 40, which is postponed by the amplification of the thought in Il. 37-39. Cp. Hdt. 8. ob .. wept os has the advantage of being the harder reading.

is the place rather than the society, and is to be connected only with The MSS. here and in l. 29, vary between and

36. 'The tribute levied by the inexorable songstress;' i.e. the lives of those citizens who attempted to solve her riddle and failed. Cp. Eur. Phoen. 1027,

38. i.e. 'By a god taking part with thee. 'By a Divine aid'? Cp. O.C. 1332, ols Kparos.

43. rov appears only in L and three other MSS, and may be an error arising from in the previous line. Cp. infr. 117, Aj. 33. The repetition of Tov is not quite elegant, and has a good meaning. 'Or whether you know, as you inay, of help coming from man.' Cp. Od. 10. 486, sc. There is a covert reference to Apollo in the first instance, and to Teiresias in the second.

44. 'For I see that where men have experience the issues of their counsels live and prosper.' Oedipus had been tried in difficulty, and his advice, resting on experience, was the more likely to succeed. The simplicity of such a maxim is no objection to this rendering. Cp. Hdt,

8. 60, 6 antas The words are logically connected with the general meaning of the three preceding lines, and the point is, 'We come to you as to an experienced man.'

45. The metaphorical use of (jv is comparatively rare. Cp. Aesch. Ag. 819, : infr. 483, : Ant. 457. Eur. Fr. 35, Cy, The explanation of 85 -- conference of counsels,' (Aesch. Pers. 528, is ingenious. but increases the difficulty of (woas, which can never mean 'are habitual," and it is not consistent with the laudatory tone of the address to advise Oedipus, who is the first of men, to take counsel with others. Cp. Thuc. 1. 140, Tas THY

48. THs 'For your former zeal." is a various reading. The two words are often confused in MSS, and has been thought to agree better with Il.47and 51. But implying no doubt of Oedipus' power to save the people if he will, is really preferable.

49. The subjunctive is more in harmony with the imperatives before and after than the optative, pe- or rather which some editors have preferred (in the spirit of Protagoras' objection to viz. that commands should not be given to a superior.) Cp. O. C. 174, The quasi-imperative expresses a stronger confidence than the optative, which implies some degree of uncertainty. has the chief emphasis. See FE. on L. p. 78. The participles are in construction with 'Let not this be our memory of your reign, that we stood upright only to fall again.' For the metaphorical expression, cp. Pind. Pyth. 3. 53, 96, Isthm. 6. 12.

51. (1) Dative of the manner. The noun is used with a consciousness of the verb referring to weodvres. 'Let your restoration of this city be without failure or falling" Cp. Thuc. 3. 22, Also ib. 2.

44, Or (2) the word is used proleptically, i.e. = 'Restore us to security. Cp. Ant. 163, .. The words aici support the former explanation.

57. is epexegetic of and, as often in such cases, the negative implied in is made explicit. 'Without men to dwell therein. Cp. Hdt. 2. Xpacba.. Ib. 4. 76. See Essay on L. 40, 1. p. 74. Some edd. put a comma after which lessens the force of Cp. Thuc. 7. 77, ov Keval,

58 ff. Oedipus is full of anxiety, not for himself, but for his people, whose sorrows he bears. In his care for them he has sent Creon to consult the oracle, and now looks impatiently for his return. In a sense of which he is ignorant, his woe is indeed greater than the people's woe, and the plan which he has chosen as the only cure will bring the curse on him.

6o. is the real subject of the sentence, but the construction is changed for the sake of the emphatic phrase See Essay on L.§ 15. p.2£. In and there is a confusion of ws éyw and i.e. is substituted for 'And although you are sick at heart, the sickness of none of you is equal to mine.'

63. 'When taking rest in sleep. The redundancy (as in O. C. 306, is no objection to the reading. The repetition is emphatic. 'I am not asleep, and you do not rouse me from slumber.' For this pleonasm as well as for the present participle, cp. Tr. 175, | also (for the participle) ib. 1163, E.onL. § 4,5. 75.

67. 'And have traversed many paths in the wanderings of thought.' Cp. Hdt. 3. 156, The gloss of the Schol., Tov confirms the

73. Lit. 'The day now measured by the course of time makes me anxious to know how he fares;' i.e. 'When I think what day this is,' 'When I count the days.' not the time of his absence but time generally. The comparative unfamiliarity of the abstract notion of time may account for the vagueness of the expression, which is supplemented in the two following lines. Each day is compared with an absolute standard of time. See E. on L. p. 91. For the intransitive sense of cp. Aj. 1418, 19, THY 6 and for the construction, ib. 794, Ti pys.

The clause Cp. Pind. Nem. 7. 66, «.7.., is added as an explanation of Or (2) 'in appearance,' 'to and more fully ex- the view.' EssayonL.p.gg. For (1), presses Oedipus' surprise at the con- OP. Schiller, Br. Messin. 1, 6, ll. 3, 4.

tinued absence of Creon. ' He is absent 82. 'To all appearance he brings longer than he ought to be, beyond pleasant news.' dre due measure.' Cp. El. 929,

78. els depends at once on according to Pliny and modern travel- and on which has lers, abounds with large red _ berries. the chief emphasis. 'Welcome are your 'This is a part of the bright apparel of words, and no less welcome is the an- Creon as a returning with a nouncement I have just received that joyful answer from the god. For the Creon is coming.' Cp. Plat.Symp.174 genitive ('richly crowned with'), cp. the E, Hdt. 9. 87, Epic EK. on L. 15.

és Some of the suppliants 84. .. 'He is have signified by gestures the approach near and within hearing.' of Creon. See opening note. E. on L. § 39, 1. p. 72.

anxious wish, and connects this with marriage. The abstract for concrete what precedes (cp. Eur. Ion 410); here has here the effect of respectful formalwith the additional ye echoing eis ity. Essay on L. p. 94.

" Would indeed that he 86. 'What answer do you bring with may come bright with saving fortune you from the god? 'What is Apollo's as his looks are bright.' Aay- word which you come bringing?' like infr. 653, év= is (1) descriptive genitive with 'invested with,' 'encompassed by.' (2) ablative gen. with 81, Either (1) 'in his eye.' 87. These words prepare the hearers' minds for the unwelcome intimation inl. 97. The construction of is difficult. Either (1) by an extension of the subject, is substituted in the resumption for 'For I declare that even what is troublous, if it but find right issue, - all in short will then be well.' Or (2) is part of the predicate and has the force of an adverb. 'Even what is hard, if it but find right issue, will turn out altogether prosperously.' Cp. Aj. 275. TE That which is troublous or burdensome is the pollution of the murder, and its right issue is the detection and banishment of the murderer. There is no reason to suppose any corruption of the text. (Heimsoeth conj.) would suggest rather the rumour than the reality of evils. shows that this is Creon's construction of the answer and not the answer itself.

gt. The formal words of Creon (cp. Tr. 342 foll.) have the effect of making Oedipus seal his own destiny by the publicity which is, given to the oracle.

93, 94. 'The grief which I bear is more a grief for them than concerning my single life.' is not adverbial, but supplementary predicate agreeing with It would be easy to supply with the former genitive, but the change of construction from the genitive of the object to genitive with epi is more in keeping with the style of Sophocles. Cp. Hdt. 4. 142, is not intensive (='even') but simply points the comparison. Cp. Aj. 1104, and for és rdvras, Plat. Tim. 28 eis

95-131. This short dialogue is carefully constructed with a view to the plot. Oedipus had heard of Laius and of his death, but (as he imagines) certainly never saw him and never thought of inquiring into the circumstances of his murder. (An excuse for this improbability is suggested afterwards in Il. 220, 1, ov yap paxpéy,x.7.r.) One witness of the deed remains, but he being overcome with fear could only give even at the time a confused account of an assault by a band of robbers. |

95. is emphatic. not indefinite, and invites attention to the peculiar nature of the message. 'I will tell you what an oracle I heard from the god.'

97, 8. "To drive out a pollution of our country, which, as he said, was fostered here. &s The accusative of the participle with ws while giving a reason conveys a further statement. E. on. L. § 28. p. 47.

99. tis 6 'How to purify? Of what nature is the defilement?' ¢up- is a euphemism for dos, as in Hdt. 1. 35,

.. See on 97. The v. would make the implied assertion explicit. The answer to 6 &.T.A., iS given here. 'this, which has been implicitly mentioned,' sc. in the words For similar uses of the pronoun, see Essay on L. § 22. p. 34.

102. asks for explanation. 'And who is the man to whom. he shows us that this misfortune happened?' has been defended, but is more idiomatic. SC. TOV

105. 'By hearsay, for I certainly never saw him.' mov, which appears in several MSS, would imply uncertainty, and would therefore weakly express the security of Oedipus. The literal meaning of is not to be pressed. From 'not yet' it has passed into meaning simply ' never.' Cp. Hat. 3. 127, 4. 81, 3. 160, In all these places, though past time is spoken of, there is no opposition between past and future. Or, as happens with and other particles, the notion of time is altogether lost. Cp e.g. Hes Op. et 271, The conjecture takes the emphasis fram the verb.

106, This is most easily explained as genitive absolute, but is at the same time to be partly connected with

avrowras.. twas} 'The murderers, whosoever they are.' Cp. O C. 288, 9, Tis: Hdt. 1. 114, This reading is preferable to If the mark over the o in L. indicates doubt, as seems probable from the parallel reading of A, this would only prove that some early scribe knew: of or wished to suggest the other reading, perhaps because it seemed easier.

Like 1. 140. For the rare active, denoting an absolute intention, see Essay on L. p. 98. - The vague use of the plural in Creon's report prepares the way for the more definite statement in 1. 122 without committing the oracle to error.

112. It may seem strange that dipus should not have heard the particulars from Jocasta. But this kind of improbability is external to the play, and dramatic interest requires that the fact should here be brought before the mind of the spectator. Cp. Aristot. Poet. 1454, 6, Tois The inevitable unlikelihood is minimized, however. For Oedipus does not deny having heard of the violent death of Laius; and gives a reason afterwards (220, 1) why he could not inquire into the circumstances at the time.

114. ie. to Delphi. O. 413, ap Sophocles gives no hint as to the nature of the mission, whether occasioned by private anxiety or the troubles of the state. Euripides, Phoen. 36, adds this further touch, pac- |

the tale, no feliow-traveller who saw the deed, whose information might have been a guide to us? The words point to a repetition of which is lest sight of in the continuation of the sentence.

117. Sc. or pa- Cp. Tr. 60, T The conjecture TIS, K.T.A. gives a less natural meaning. The witness who saw anything, must have seen the deed.

118. is connected partly with and partly with the following words (cp. O. 1625, | dei- 'The fear with which he fled made him unable to speak with certainty of what he saw except on one point.'

120. 'For one fact might lead to the knowledge of many, if we could get hold of even a slight beginning of hope.' supplements Cp. Tr. 673. In there is perhaps an association from the end of a thread. Cp. Hdt. 4. 60, : Eur. Hipp. 762, 'The mystery is like a tangled skein, which a slight clue, once caught hold of, may be the means of unravelling. Cp. Eur. I. A. 1124, ;

122, Sc. This confused acceunt prevents Oedipus from being reminded of the real circumstances, and even delays his self-conviction when almost brought home, I. 725,842. The report of the attendant must be supposed to precede the arrival of Oedipus at Thebes. He can therefore have had no reason for his falsehood except the natural temptation to veil his cowardice by exaggerating the force from which he had fled.

124. The singular referring to the plural may only be an idiomatic collective use (cp. Midos, etc,); but may also be a stroke of art, by which Oedipus is represented as wholly careless about the number of the persons, which is afterwards his only refuge: 842 ff.

125. 'Unless some influence with money was exerted from Thebes. Cp. Thuc. 5. 83, ov. ib. 4.121. The brigand must have had confederates in the city. Cp.O.C.1028, 31,dAN' ov wade: Ford's Perkin Warbeck,1.1, 'Foreign attempts against a state and kingdom | Are seldom without some great friend at home.'

is gen. abs. prevents from being taken as the genitive in regimen. 'We had the suspicion of treachery, but, when Laius was gone, there was no one to stand up for us in our misfortunes.'

128. The inverted order gives an indignant emphasis to 'And what misfortune could there be, which, when majesty was thus fallen, prevented you from investigating this matter to the end?' sc. THY

The abstract word emphasizes the strangeness of the neglect. Cp. Shak. K. Lear, 2. 4. "TIN worse than murder, To do upon respect such violent outrage.' the dead." For the periphrasis, cp. Ant. 151, Anopoovvay. mpds has greater MS. authority than and agrees better with the image suggested by ém- (lit. 'turning towards'). Cp. infr. 1434, yap, is sudden attention to a thing hitherto neglected. Cp. Phil. 598, 9, ;

137. 'A far-off friend or connection,' as a wife's former husband may not unnaturally be called. Oedipus is still unconsciously drawing the attention of the spectators to his own part in the business. The person to be avenged is his father, and he is himself the author of the pollution, in which he has so deep an _ interest is suggested, though not said), and of the crime which he may one day wreak upon himself. For in Ist pers. see E. on L. p. 37.

140. ' Might choose to wreak his violence in lke manner on me.' The tendency to use the same word though in a different connection (cp. l. 136, and see Essay on L. § 44, p. 84) may have partly led to the use of here. But the word is not inappropriate - the murderer may be supposed to have a grudge against the crown - and by using it Oedipus suggests the end, when he, the murderer, shall inflict vengeance on himself, the king, with the same hand that had slain Laius. The conjecture is therefore not in point. The words also prepare the way for what follows, by betraying the first rise of the feeling of suspicion in Oedipus which presently fixes itself on Creon. Cp. the sensitiveness of Creon himself on a like occasion in the Antigone, 1. 289,

145. Recalling the Homeric TH HE TiS 'I will use all effort, for it isa crisis in the state of Thebes.' Cp. Tr. 82-85, TEKvov,| | To the spectators the word With which Oedipus departs, is ominous of the catastrophe.

147. Schol. The simple is used for the compound verb (dvicrwpeéa). E. on L.§ 55. 4. p. 101. Supr. 143.

148, 'What he of his own accord announces.' For this 'subjective' use of the middle voice, see Essay on L. § 31. d. p. 53.

149. 'May Phoebus who has sent these oracles also give with them salvation and release.' The suppliants retire from the stage; and the chorus of elders, honoured representatives (1. 1223) of the Theban people, whom Oedipus has summoned (1. 144), - bound by ties of blood to the house of Cadmus (1. 1226), - enter the from the spectator's right.

151-215. 'Outstretched in fear we listen awfully for thy propitious voice, oh sweet-tongued utterance of Heaven. Paean, be our speed! What thing new or old in season due dost thou disclose Tell us, thou voice, child of bright Hope divine. Athena, Goddess, daughter of the Highest, first hear our cry; thou, Artemis, on thine encircled throne, and archer Phoebus, - come in threefold might to save! if ever heretofore ye banished sorrow from our state, now too appear! For, oh! I am overwhelmed; all my host is in disarray ; and there is no thought to save; Earth's buds are nipped, and human births prevented by the pains of death; soul after soul takes flight with fearful speed, and

'Wives, mothers, sadly suppliant, at various altars groan; the voice of lamentation mingles with the thrilling hymn. Athena, send us help, and cause yon flaming author of destruction, who with dire noise advances, quickly to reverse his speed and fly qur land, whether to Ocean or the restless Pontic sea. Day ruins what night spares. O Father, blast the plague-god with thy lightning. Let thine arrows, O Apollo, be showered to protect us, and Artemis' bright torches from the Lycian hills; and thou, O ruddy crowned Bacchus of the joyous rout, with trooping Maenads, patron of Thebes, draw near, and flash thy brand against the god whom gods disown.'

The opening of this parodos is of the nature of a paean (1. 186), or hymn to Apollo as the god of victory or salvation. The stately dactylic measures, corresponding in strophe and antistrophe even to the division of the words (cp. 153, 162, 158, 166), are only once interrupted, as the chorus march towards the altar, by the more meditative iambic rhythm (ll. 152, 160), and by the anacrusis in ll. 154, 163.

The increasing excitement of the chorus is shown in the second strophe and antistrophe, by iambic and trochaic rhythms with resolution of the arsis, by the union of dactyls and trochees in logaoedic lines, and by the more frequent anacruses. The bright Paean notes give way to tones of sadness, echoing the (Il. 186, 7). The scheme of and is the following (ll. 167-78 =ll. 179-89) : -

In the concluding strophe and antistrophe there is only one dactylic line, just as there was one iambic in the first. The other rhythms are iambic and trochaic, with occasional syncope of the thesis (or change to the cretic rhythm). The movement, though still full of excitement, becomes more energetic and determined towards the close. The scansion is as follows :- -

The rhythm of the whole ode, which is unusually wild and full of transitions, shows a progress from flowing dactylic numbers to iambics and trochaics, which are interrupted here and there by syncope of the thesis, or in other words, by an antispastic effect, corresponding to the distraction of the thought.

151. The voice is personified and addressed in propitiatory language. Cp. 1.157. tis is predicate. 'In what shape comest thou?' i.e. what is thine utterance now

153. 'I lie outstretched, my timorous heart quaking with dread.' For teivw, of mental tension, cp. Pind. Pyth. 11, 54, Isthm. 1, 49, Tis For .. cp. Il. 22. 461, And for the form of expression here, in which is accusative in regimen, cp. infr. 914, where is equivalent to a passive verb. E. on L. § 30, d. p. 52.

155. Addressed to the Delian Apollo; who has just been apostrophized as Paean, the healer. This suits the context better than if Adare were treated as merely interjectional, and ovi were referred to supr., though there are several instances of similar parentheses. The transition from to and again to is in keeping with the excited tone of the chorus. See below, note on 215.

.. 'What either till now unheard of. or again appearing in the fulness of time.' is either (1) adjectival, or (2) adverbial as ia Od. 1. 175, peOerers. The former (1) is preferable. For the coordination of adjective and adverb, cp. Ant. 808- 10, : Tr. 835, And, for Od. 2.107, Ar. Av. 697, For the dative, cp. Phil. 721, Essay on L. § 11. p. 18.

has associations from and from besides the general meaning of business = zegotium, so that Xpéos =* What revealed and destined thing you will appoint for me.'

157. xp. A propitiatory address, as inl. 151. A favourable response gives outward reality to that which Hope has conceived. The remark in Thuc. 5. 103, that hope prompts belief in prophecy, is too sceptical to find application here. as in Pindar, Pyth. 3.73, Ol. 1. 90, Nem. 5. 7.)

159. A ' pendent' construction, resumed from pevos supr. 155. See E. on L. § 15. 21. The flow of the sentence is broken by the sudden interjection and apostrophe, .. which is interposed instead of or the like. Cp. Tr. 96, foll., | .. .. cin', Cp. Plat. Legg. 6. 769 C, .. The converse change from the 2nd to the ard person is more frequent, e. g. Aj. 862, 2, 6 Athena, with her two temples (1. 20), Artemis, conspicuous in the Agora, and ' Ismenian' Apollo, are the presiding deities of Thebes (il. 19- 22). As often -- so = 1.6. either (1) 'whose seat is the round Agora,' or (2) 'whose seat isin the round Agora.' In either case belongs rather to than to Essay on L. p. 80. xv- would have been an imperfect expression, and is supplemented by which is cogn. accus. The words suggest a sitting statue raised so as to command the Agora, over which the goddess presides. because she is celebrated there with dance and song. is acc. sing. for Cp. the Epic Pind. Fr. 53. 5. Pyth. 8, 62. or the goddess of good fame, was another name for Artemis, who was worshipped under this designation in every Boeotian town. Pausanias mentions a temple of Artemis Eucleia, which existed in his time at To avert calamity. For in this'sense, cp. 1. 187, (but see note) : Aesch. Be Ce The sense would be made clearer by expressing or mpopaver res, which is dropped.

* Rushing at the state.' Cp. Aesch. 5. c. T. 87, For this direct use of the dative, see Essay on L, § 12. p. 18.

167. Either (1) connects the sentence with the preceding, being merely interposed (cp. 1. 1198, Zev, or (2) is explanatory of the interjection. The former is more likely, because less abrupt.

170. 'My people is a disordered host.' The state of the city is compared to that of a 'war-worn and beggared host,' and the figure is continued into the next clause. 'There is not found amongst us a thought wherewith to defend ourselves. as with a sword.' Cp. Od. 22. 25,

173. 'Of our glorious land." Cp. 1.25. Auras is an Homeric epithet, but is here used by Sophocles with special reference to Thebes, the fatherland: i. e. is not 'glorious Earth,' but the expression, although vague, is immediately applied to the Theban territory, which to the chorus is ' all the world.'

174. vatkes| 'Lift their heads again from the pangs and cries of their travail" For the use of dvéxw in this sense, cp. Hom. Od. 5. 320, |

175. 'One close upon another.' The omission of the preposition is assisted by in Cp. Phil. 144, 5, mpoo- : Tr. 842, pots In 235, the dative after the active verb has a similar notion of addition. Cp. Aj. 866, In Eur. Phoen. 1496, the same idiom is carried to a further stage. The conception of death as the departure of the person, and not of the shade merely, is to be contrasted with the Homeric mode of thought, which however still lingers in the form of expression. Cp. with Be- (Il, 22. 362). See also Eur. Suppl. 1142,

The language still reflects the Homeric imagery, in which the west is the approach to Hades, (Od. 12. 81). There is a natural association between the setting of life and the setting of the sun in the west. Cp. Aesch. Ag. 1074, : Plato, Legg. 6. 770,

178. .. 'In countless numbers of whom my city is perishing.' For the use of the adjective, see Essay on L. 8 23,6, 2. p. 38; and for the gen. cp. Aj. 603, : El. 232, There is no ellipse of ; the adjective is a supplementary predicate, or in other words closely follows The antecedent to sc. must be supplied from the sense of the preceding words, as in Thuc. 6. 12, +»

Sc. (1) ' Her children uncarec-for lie spreading death upon the plain, with none to make lament.' Cp. Thuc. 2. 51, .. (2) The idea of the danger of contagion is certainly not common in Greek, and perhaps tapdépa, or may have lost something ofits compound signification. The word may simply mean 'with death upon them,' 'in death.' The unmetrical v. r. shows that some difficulty was felt about the meaning.