Ajax and Ulysses were competitors for the arms of Achilles. The prize was awarded to Ulysses. Ajax, deeming himself wronged, sallies forth from his tent one night to take vengeance on those who had wronged him, especially Ulysses and the two sons of Atreus. Athene, ever watchful for her favourite Hellenes, smites Ajax with mental blindness, so that instead of falling on his enemies, he falls on the flocks and herds of the camp. Restored to his right mind, and finding how he has dishonoured himself, he falls upon his sword.
* * * * *
THE HERO'S MADNESS.
Tecmessa, a captive with whom Ajax lives as his wife, tells the Chorus of Salaminian mariners what has befallen their chieftain.
LINES 284-330.
TECMESSA.
Thou shalt hear all as one that shares our lot.
It was the dead of night, and now no more
The camp fires shone, when Ajax took his sword,
Uncalled, and was in act to leave the tent,
And I reproved him. "Ajax," I exclaimed,
"What errand is it upon which you go
Unbidden, summoned by no messenger,
No trumpet call; the host is all asleep?"
Brief was his answer in a well-known strain:
"Peace, woman; silence best beseems thy sex."
I said no more. He sallied forth alone.
What may have there befallen I cannot say.
Back to the tent he came, leading along
As captives bulls and herdsmen's dogs and sheep,
Of which a part he strangled, others felled
And cleft in twain; others again he lashed,
Treating those beasts like human prisoners.
Then rushing out, he with some phantom talked,
Launching against the sons of Atreus now,
Now 'gainst Ulysses, ravings void of sense,
Boasting how he had paid their insults home.
Then once more rushing back into the tent,
By slow degrees to his right mind he came.
But when he saw the tent with carnage heaped,
Crying aloud, he smote his head, and then
Flung himself down amid the gory wreck,
And with clenched fingers grasped and tore his hair.
So a long time he sat and spoke no word.
At last, with imprecations terrible
If I refused, he bade me tell him all,
What had befallen and how it came about.
And I, my friends, o'erwhelmed with terror, told
All that I knew of that which he had done.
Thereat he uttered piercing cries of grief,
Such as had never come from him before,
For in loud lamentations to indulge
He ever held a craven weakling's part,
And, stifling outcries, moaned not loud but deep,
Like the deep roaring of a wounded bull.
But in this plight, prostrate and desperate,
Refusing food and drink, my hero lies
Amidst the mangled bodies, motionless.
That he is brooding on some fell design,
His wails and exclamations plainly show.
But, O kind friends, 'twas to this end I came,
Enter the tent and aid me if ye can;
The words of friends are desperate sorrow's cure.
* * * * *
REMORSE.
Ajax bewails his own fall. Tecmessa tries to comfort him, and turn him from violent courses.
LINES 430-595.
CHORUS.
I know not how, in case so desperate,
To bid thee speak, or bid thee to refrain.
AJAX.
Alas! who would have thought my name would prove
[Footnote: There is a play upon the name [Greek: Aias], the first
syllable of which is an ejaculation of sorrow unreproduceable in
English.]
So correspondent to the bearer's state?
Once and again that syllable of woe,
Being with woe o'erwhelmed, I may repeat.
My father once, from this Idaean land,
Crowned with the prize of valour by the host,
And full of glory, to his home returned;
While I, his son, coming to this same land
Of Troy with prowess no whit less than his,
After achievements not less glorious,
Meet from the Argives scorn and contumely.
And yet of this much am I well assured,
That had Achilles living been the judge
To whom his arm and valours prize should go,
Mine, and mine only, would those arms have been.
But now the Atridae to a cunning knave,
My exploits misprized, have surrendered them.
And had not strong delusion warped my sense,
And clouded o'er my vision, never more
Would they have an unrighteous sentence given.
But that stern-eyed, resistless child of Zeus,
Just as I put forth my avenging hand,
Brought madness on me, made me miss my aim,
And dye my sword with blood of slaughtered kine.
They have escaped, and they will mock at me,
Through no default of mine. When deity
Blasts the strong arm, weakness may strength defy.
What now am I to do, since of the gods
I am abhorred, of the Hellenic host
Hated, to Troy and all this land a foe?
Shall I to their own quarrel leave the Kings,
Unmoor, and homeward cross the Aegean wave?
How can I face my father Telamon?
How can he bear to look upon the son
Who comes to him disgraced, without the prize,
When glory's wreath has circled his own brow?
That may not be. Then shall I fling myself
Alone upon the Trojan battlements,
And having done some deed of valour, fall?
That might to the two Kings some joy afford.
That, too, is naught. On something I must think
Whereby I to my agÉd sire may prove
That from his loins sprung no unworthy son;
For vile it is to crave for longer life,
When longer life brings no release from ill.
How can addition to the sum of days,
When all is but a respite, joy bestow?
I would not give a doit for any man
Who lets his heart be fired with idle hopes.
To live with honour, or with honour die,
Alone becomes the noble. I have done.
CHORUS.
None, Ajax, will pretend that these thy words
Are not thy own, or come not from thy heart;
But now control thyself. Discard these thoughts,
And let the counsels of thy friends prevail.
TECMESSA.
Ajax, my lord and master, man knows not
Aught sadder than a bondsman's helplessness.
I, that a freeman for my father had,
First of the Phrygian race in wealth and power,
Am now a slave. So have the gods decreed,
And thy strong arm determined. Of thy bed
Thus made the partner, I am true to thee,
And do implore thee by our household Zeus,
And by the couch which we together press,
Be not so cruel as to leave thy mate
In thraldom, and a prey to slanderous tongues.
Know, when thou diest, thy protection gone,
The Argives will that self-same day drag off
Me and thy helpless child to slavery.
Then will some slave-master speak bitter words,
Voiding his bile on us: 'Behold the mate
Of Ajax, once the hero of our host,
Fallen from her pride of place to menial toil.'
So will they say. For me, where fate may drive
I drift; but shame will be on thee and thine.
Think of thy father, in his drear old age
Bereft of thee; think of thy mother, too,
With her grey head, who puts up many a prayer
That she may welcome home her son alive.
Have pity on thy child, who will be left
In infancy, uncherished, and the ward
Of unkind guardians; lay to heart the woes
Which loss of thee would bring on him and me.
For I have nothing left to which to look
But thee; thy spear has laid my city low,
While, by another doom, my parents both
Have gone to dwell in the abodes of death.
What country can Tecmessa have but thee?
What staff of life? thou art my all in all.
Be mindful of thy mate; to taste love's joy
Is to owe something to the claim of love.
Affection still should be affection's meed;
When kindness leaves no trace upon the soul,
That soul is void of true nobility.
CHORUS.
Ajax, I would thy heart could beat with mine,
For if it could, her words would win thy praise.
AJAX.
Praise in full measure shall she have from me,
If she has sense to do what I command.
TECMESSA.
Whatever thou commandest, I will do.
AJAX.
Bring me my boy that I may look on him.
TECMESSA.
The truth to tell, I sent him hence in fear.
AJAX.
In fear of what? Of all this wretchedness?
TECMESSA.
Fear that if thou shouldst meet him, he might die.
AJAX.
That would have well beseemed my destiny.
TECMESSA.
My care prevented that calamity.
AJAX.
I do commend thy foresight heartily.
TECMESSA.
What can I do herein to serve thee more?
AJAX.
Let me behold the boy and speak to him.
TECMESSA.
He is at hand in the attendant's care.
AJAX.
Let him come hither, then, without delay.
TECMESSA.
My child, thy father calls. Whoe'er thou art
His infant steps that guidest, bring him here.
AJAX.
Is the child out of hearing or at hand?
TECMESSA.
Behold, the servant leading him is near.
(Enter Attendant with EURYSACES.)
AJAX.
Give me the boy; he will not be afraid
To look upon this bloody slaughter-house,
If verily he is his father's son.
At once we must in his sire's rugged ways
Train the young colt and mould him like to me.
Boy, mayst thou be more lucky than thy sire,
Else his true son, and thou'lt be not amiss.
Already have I cause to envy thee,
In that thou knowest nothing of these woes;
For blessed are the days of ignorance,
When joy and grief are both untasted still.
But when the time is come, see that thou show
My enemies what blood is in thy veins.
Till then, sweet airs breathe on thine infancy.
Be happy, boy, and cheer thy mother's heart.
I ween the Achaean lives not that on thee
Will dare to trample, e'en when I am gone,
So good a warden shall I leave for thee
In Teucer, who shall tend thee well, though now
He is far off, upon the foeman's trail.
And now, my warriors, that have sailed with me,
I crave one service at your loving hands,
And pray ye will of Teucer crave the same:
Bear to my home the boy, that Telamon
And Eriboea may their grandson see,
And he may be the prop of their old age.
My arms, no judges, nor my honour's foe
Shall ere set up as prizes for the host.
My shield, Eurysaces, my son, take thou,
[Footnote: Signifying "him of the broad shield."]
Thy namesake, by its well-knit handles wield
The impenetrable orb of seven-fold hide.
My other arms shall share their master's grave.
And now, Tecmessa, take the boy again;
Shut up the tent, and let us have no wails
Here at the door; women are made of tears.
Shut up the tent, I say; never wise leech
Did patter spells when steel was the sole cure.
CHORUS.
I tremble as I hear thy heated words,
The sharpness of thy speech disquiets me.
TECMESSA.
Ajax, my lord, what dost thou meditate?
AJAX.
Question me not. 'Tis good to be discreet.
TECMESSA.
Fear overwhelms my soul. Oh, by the gods,
And by thy child, I pray desert us not.
AJAX.
Thou art importunate. Dost thou not know
That I no more am debtor to the gods?
TECMESSA.
Hush! Be not impious.
AJAX.
Speak not to the deaf.
TECMESSA.
Wilt thou not yield?
AJAX.
Thou pratest overmuch.
TECMESSA.
My lord, I quake.
AJAX.
Shut up the tent at once.
TECMESSA.
I do conjure thee.
AJAX.
Small must be thy sense,
If thou dost think to put this heart to school.
* * * * *
THE RESOLVE.
Ajax pretends to be softened, and to be going forth only for the harmless purpose of purification in a running stream, though he is really going to his death.
LINES 646-692.
AJAX.
Time in its long, immeasurable course,
Turns ever dark to light, and light to dark,
And nothing is past hope; the solemn oath
Is broken, and the stubborn heart gives way.
I, that was hard as tempered steel erewhile,
Am softened now by yonder woman's plaint.
I cannot bear to leave her desolate,
Or my boy fatherless among his foes.
I'll go to the fresh baths which lie beside
Yon cliff, that, having washed pollution off,
I may the goddess' heavy wrath avert.
I'll seek me out a solitary spot,
And there I'll hide this sword, this hateful sword,
Burying it where it shall be seen no more;
Let night and Hades be its armoury,
For ever since I took it as a gift
From Hector, our most mortal enemy,
Our Argive hearts have ne'er been kind to me.
True is the word, the gifts of enemies
Are no gifts, and they bring more loss than gain.
So for the future we shall learn to bow
To heaven's good will, and reverence the Kings;
Theirs is the power, submission is our part.
Whatever is most dread and masterful
Yields to authority: the winter's snow
In time makes way for summer crowned with fruits;
In time the weary round of night gives place
To the white steeds that bring returning day;
In time the blustering tempest leaves at rest
The roaring sea; in time profoundest sleep
Loosens its bond, and lets the sleeper wake;
Why should not time bring wisdom to us too?
By all means shall it. I have lately learned
That we should hate our enemy as one
Who yet may be a friend, and so far serve
Our friend as one that may to-morrow be
A friend no more, since, to the general,
Friendship is but a doubtful anchorage.
But for these matters all is ordered well.
Go in, Tecmessa, duly offer up
Thy prayers that my desire may be fulfilled.
And you, my comrades, honour equally
My wishes, and bid Teucer, when he comes,
Be a good friend to you and think of me.
Now go I forth upon my destined way.
Do ye my bidding, and ye soon may hear
That I have shuffled off this coil of ills.
* * * * *
THE LAST SPEECH OF AJAX.
LINES 815-865.
AJAX.
The sword is set where it may best strike home,
If leisure were to dally with such thoughts,
The sword that Hector gave, the bitterest foe
And worst that I did ever treat withal;
And it is planted in the soil of Troy,
That hostile soil, fresh whetted for its work.
Carefully have I fixed it where it stands,
That quickly I may die, and painlessly.
So far all's well; in what comes now, O Zeus,
On thee for aid, and with good right, I call.
'Tis no great favour that I crave of thee:
Let some one bear to Teucer the ill news,
That he may be the first to lift my corpse
From off the sword, fresh streaming with my blood.
Let me not, by some foeman first espied,
Be cast a prey to carrion fowl and dogs.
This, Zeus, I ask of thee, and I invoke
Hermes, who leads the dead, that at one bound
Pierced through, and with no lingering agony
I may be laid in my eternal sleep.
Last on the dread Erinnyes I call,
That ever-virgin sisterhood, who see
All that is done among mankind, to mark
How the Atridae have my ruin wrought.
Come, ye swift powers of retribution, come,
And flesh you on the whole Achaean host.
Thou sun, whose chariot traverses the sky,
When on my native land thou lookest down,
Draw for a while thy glittering rein, and tell
The story of my madness and my doom
To my grey-headed father, and to her
That bare me, and that when she hears this news
Will make the city echo with her wail.
But to no purpose are these weak laments;
The thing must now be done, and done with speed.
O death, O death, come and thy office do;
Long, where I go, our fellowship will be.
O thou glad daylight, which I now behold,
O sun, that ridest in the firmament,
I greet you, and shall greet you never more.
O light, O sacred soil of my own land,
O my ancestral home, my Salamis,
Famed Athens and my old Athenian mates,
Rivers and springs and plains of Troy, farewell;
Farewell all things in which I lived my life;
'Tis the last word of Ajax to you all,
When next I speak 'twill be to those below.
