FIRST SERVANT. Who was it then?
SECOND SERVANT. No doubt the Thunderer, Zeus.
FIRST SERVANT. But perhaps some spectator, some beardless youth, who thinks himself a sage, will say, “What is this? What does the beetle mean?” And then an Ionian, sitting next him, will add, “I think ’tis an allusion to Cleon, who so shamelessly feeds on filth all by himself.” — But now I’m going indoors to fetch the beetle a drink.
SECOND SERVANT. As for me, I will explain the matter to you all, children, youths, grown-ups and old men, aye, even to the decrepit dotards. My master is mad, not as you are, but with another sort of madness, quite a new kind. The livelong day he looks open-mouthed towards heaven and never stops addressing Zeus. “Ah! Zeus,” he cries, “what are thy intentions? Lay aside thy besom; do not sweep Greece away!”
TRYGAEUS. Ah! ah! ah!
FIRST SERVANT. Hush, hush! Methinks I hear his voice!
TRYGAEUS. Oh! Zeus, what art thou going to do for our people? Dost thou not see this, that our cities will soon be but empty husks?
FIRST SLAVE. As I told you, that is his form of madness. There you have a sample of his follies. When his trouble first began to seize him, he said to himself, “By what means could I go straight to Zeus?” Then he made himself very slender little ladders and so clambered up towards heaven; but he soon came hurtling down again and broke his head. Yesterday, to our misfortune, he went out and brought us back this thoroughbred, but from where I know not, this great beetle, whose groom he has forced me to become. He himself caresses it as though it were a horse, saying, “Oh! my little Pegasus, my noble aerial steed, may your wings soon bear me straight to Zeus!” But what is my master doing? I must stoop down to look through this hole. Oh! great gods! Here! neighbours, run here quick! here is my master flying off mounted on his beetle as if on horseback.
TRYGAEUS. Gently, gently, go easy, beetle; don’t start off so proudly, or trust at first too greatly to your powers; wait till you have sweated, till the beating of your wings shall make your limb joints supple. Above all things, don’t let off some foul smell, I adjure you; else I would rather have you stop in the stable altogether.
SECOND SERVANT. Poor master! Is he crazy?
TRYGAEUS. Silence! silence!
SECOND SERVANT (to Trygaeus). But why start up into the air on chance?
TRYGAEUS. ’Tis for the weal of all the Greeks; I am attempting a daring and novel feat.
SECOND SERVANT. But what is your purpose? What useless folly!
TRYGAEUS. No words of ill omen! Give vent to joy and command all men to keep silence, to close down their drains and privies with new tiles and to stop their own vent-holes.
FIRST SERVANT. No, I shall not be silent, unless you tell me where you are going.
TRYGAEUS. Why, where am I likely to be going across the sky, if it be not to visit Zeus?
FIRST SERVANT. For what purpose?
TRYGAEUS. I want to ask him what he reckons to do for all the Greeks.
SECOND SERVANT. And if he doesn’t tell you?
TRYGAEUS. I shall pursue him at law as a traitor who sells Greece to the
Medes.
SECOND SERVANT. Death seize me, if I let you go.
TRYGAEUS. It is absolutely necessary.
SECOND SERVANT. Alas! alas! dear little girls, your father is deserting you secretly to go to heaven. Ah! poor orphans, entreat him, beseech him.
LITTLE DAUGHTER. Father! father! what is this I hear? Is it true? What! you would leave me, you would vanish into the sky, you would go to the crows? ’Tis impossible! Answer, father, an you love me.
TRYGAEUS. Yes, I am going. You hurt me too sorely, my daughters, when you ask me for bread, calling me your daddy, and there is not the ghost of an obolus in the house; if I succeed and come back, you will have a barley loaf every morning — and a punch in the eye for sauce!
LITTLE DAUGHTER. But how will you make the journey? ’Tis not a ship that will carry you thither.
TRYGAEUS. No, but this winged steed will.
LITTLE DAUGHTER. But what an idea, daddy, to harness a beetle, on which to fly to the gods.
TRYGAEUS. We see from Aesop’s fables that they alone can fly to the abode of the Immortals.
LITTLE DAUGHTER. Father, father, ’tis a tale nobody can believe! that such a stinking creature can have gone to the gods.
TRYGAEUS. It went to have vengeance on the eagle and break its eggs.
LITTLE DAUGHTER. Why not saddle Pegasus? you would have a more tragic appearance in the eyes of the gods.
TRYGAEUS. Eh! don’t you see, little fool, that then twice the food would be wanted? Whereas my beetle devours again as filth what I have eaten myself.
LITTLE DAUGHTER. And if it fell into the watery depths of the sea, could it escape with its wings?
TRYGAEUS (showing his penis). I am fitted with a rudder in case of need, and my Naxos beetle will serve me as a boat.
LITTLE DAUGHTER. And what harbour will you put in at?
TRYGAEUS. Why, is there not the harbour of Cantharos at the Piraeus?
LITTLE DAUGHTER. Take care not to knock against anything and so fall off into space; once a cripple, you would be a fit subject for Euripides, who would put you into a tragedy.
TRYGAEUS. I’ll see to it. Good-bye! (To the Athenians.) You, for love of whom I brave these dangers, do ye neither let wind nor go to stool for the space of three days, for, if, while cleaving the air, my steed should scent anything, he would fling me head foremost from the summit of my hopes. Now come, my Pegasus, get a-going with up-pricked ears and make your golden bridle resound gaily. Eh! what are you doing? What are you up to? Do you turn your nose towards the cesspools? Come, pluck up a spirit; rush upwards from the earth, stretch out your speedy wings and make straight for the palace of Zeus; for once give up foraging in your daily food. — Hi! you down there, what are you after now? Oh! my god! ’tis a man emptying his belly in the Piraeus, close to the house where the bad girls are. But is it my death you seek then, my death? Will you not bury that right away and pile a great heap of earth upon it and plant wild thyme therein and pour perfumes on it? If I were to fall from up here and misfortune happened to me, the town of Chioswould owe a fine of five talents for my death, all along of your cursed rump. Alas! how frightened I am! oh! I have no heart for jests. Ah! machinist, take great care of me. There is already a wind whirling round my navel; take great care or, from sheer fright, I shall form food for my beetle…. But I think I am no longer far from the gods; aye, that is the dwelling of Zeus, I perceive. Hullo! Hi! where is the doorkeeper? Will no one open?
* * * * *
The scene changes and heaven is presented.
HERMES. Meseems I can sniff a man. (He perceives Trygaeus astride his beetle.) Why, what plague is this?
TRYGAEUS. A horse-beetle.
HERMES. Oh! impudent, shameless rascal! oh! scoundrel! triple scoundrel! the greatest scoundrel in the world! how did you come here? Oh! scoundrel of all scoundrels! your name? Reply.
TRYGAEUS. Triple scoundrel.
HERMES. Your country?
TRYGAEUS. Triple scoundrel.
HERMES. Your father?
TRYGAEUS. My father? Triple scoundrel.
HERMES. By the Earth, you shall die, unless you tell me your name.
TRYGAEUS. I am Trygaeus of the Athmonian deme, a good vine-dresser, little addicted to quibbling and not at all an informer.
HERMES. Why do you come?
TRYGAEUS. I come to bring you this meat.
HERMES. Ah! my good friend, did you have a good journey?
TRYGAEUS. Glutton, be off! I no longer seem a triple scoundrel to you.
Come, call Zeus.
HERMES. Ah! ah! you are a long way yet from reaching the gods, for they moved yesterday.
TRYGAEUS. To what part of the earth?
HERMES. Eh! of the earth, did you say?
TRYGAEUS. In short, where are they then?
HERMES. Very far, very far, right at the furthe
st end of the dome of heaven.
TRYGAEUS. But why have they left you all alone here?
HERMES. I am watching what remains of the furniture, the little pots and pans, the bits of chairs and tables, and odd wine-jars.
TRYGAEUS. And why have the gods moved away?
HERMES. Because of their wrath against the Greeks. They have located War in the house they occupied themselves and have given him full power to do with you exactly as he pleases; then they went as high up as ever they could, so as to see no more of your fights and to hear no more of your prayers.
TRYGAEUS. What reason have they for treating us so?
HERMES. Because they have afforded you an opportunity for peace more than once, but you have always preferred war. If the Laconians got the very slightest advantage, they would exclaim, “By the Twin Brethren! the Athenians shall smart for this.” If, on the contrary, the latter triumphed and the Laconians came with peace proposals, you would say, “By Demeter, they want to deceive us. No, by Zeus, we will not hear a word; they will always be coming as long as we hold Pylos.”
TRYGAEUS. Yes, that is quite the style our folk do talk in.
HERMES. So that I don’t know whether you will ever see Peace again.
TRYGAEUS. Why, where has she gone to then?
HERMES. War has cast her into a deep pit.
TRYGAEUS. Where?
HERMES. Down there, at the very bottom. And you see what heaps of stones he has piled over the top, so that you should never pull her out again.
TRYGAEUS. Tell me, what is War preparing against us?
HERMES. All I know is that last evening he brought along a huge mortar.
TRYGAEUS. And what is he going to do with his mortar?
HERMES. He wants to pound up all the cities of Greece in it…. But I must say good-bye, for I think he is coming out; what an uproar he is making!
TRYGAEUS. Ah! great gods! let us seek safety; meseems I already hear the noise of this fearful war mortar.
WAR (enters carrying a mortar). Oh! mortals, mortals, wretched mortals, how your jaws will snap!
TRYGAEUS. Oh! divine Apollo! what a prodigious big mortar! Oh, what misery the very sight of War causes me! This then is the foe from whom I fly, who is so cruel, so formidable, so stalwart, so solid on his legs!
WAR. Oh! Prasiae! thrice wretched, five times, aye, a thousand times wretched! for thou shalt be destroyed this day.
TRYGAEUS. This does not yet concern us over much; ’tis only so much the worse for the Laconians.
WAR. Oh! Megara! Megara! how utterly are you going to be ground up! what fine mincemeat are you to be made into!
TRYGAEUS. Alas! alas! what bitter tears there will be among the
Megarians!
WAR. Oh, Sicily! you too must perish! Your wretched towns shall be grated like this cheese. Now let us pour some Attic honey into the mortar.
TRYGAEUS. Oh! I beseech you! use some other honey; this kind is worth four obols; be careful, oh! be careful of our Attic honey.
WAR. Hi! Tumult, you slave there!
TUMULT. What do you want?
WAR. Out upon you! You stand there with folded arms. Take this cuff o’ the head for your pains.
TUMULT. Oh! how it stings! Master, have you got garlic in your fist, I wonder?
WAR. Run and fetch me a pestle.
TUMULT. But we haven’t got one; ’twas only yesterday we moved.
WAR. Go and fetch me one from Athens, and hurry, hurry!
TUMULT. Aye, I hasten there; if I return without one, I shall have no cause for laughing. [Exit.
TRYGAEUS. Ah! what is to become of us, wretched mortals that we are? See the danger that threatens if he returns with the pestle, for War will quietly amuse himself with pounding all the towns of Hellas to pieces. Ah! Bacchus! cause this herald of evil to perish on his road!
WAR. Well!
TUMULT (who has returned). Well, what?
WAR. You have brought back nothing?
TUMULT. Alas! the Athenians have lost their pestle — the tanner, who ground Greece to powder.
TRYGAEUS. Oh! Athené, venerable mistress! ’tis well for our city he is dead, and before he could serve us with this hash.
WAR. Then go and seek one at Sparta and have done with it!
TUMULT. Aye, aye, master!
WAR. Be back as quick as ever you can.
TRYGAEUS (to the audience). What is going to happen, friends? ’Tis a critical hour. Ah! if there is some initiate of Samothrace among you, ’tis surely the moment to wish this messenger some accident — some sprain or strain.
TUMULT (who returns). Alas! alas! thrice again, alas!
WAR. What is it? Again you come back without it?
TUMULT. The Spartans too have lost their pestle.
WAR. How, varlet?
TUMULT. They had lent it to their allies in Thrace, who have lost it for them.
TRYGAEUS. Long life to you, Thracians! My hopes revive, pluck up courage, mortals!
WAR. Take all this stuff away; I am going in to make a pestle for myself.
TRYGAEUS. ’Tis now the time to sing as Datis did, as he masturbated himself at high noon, “Oh pleasure! oh enjoyment! oh delights!” ’Tis now, oh Greeks! the moment when freed of quarrels and fighting, we should rescue sweet Peace and draw her out of this pit, before some other pestle prevents us. Come, labourers, merchants, workmen, artisans, strangers, whether you be domiciled or not, islanders, come here, Greeks of all countries, come hurrying here with picks and levers and ropes! ’Tis the moment to drain a cup in honour of the Good Genius.
CHORUS. Come hither, all! quick, quick, hasten to the rescue! All peoples of Greece, now is the time or never, for you to help each other. You see yourselves freed from battles and all their horrors of bloodshed. The day, hateful to Lamachus, has come. Come then, what must be done? Give your orders, direct us, for I swear to work this day without ceasing, until with the help of our levers and our engines we have drawn back into light the greatest of all goddesses, her to whom the olive is so dear.
TRYGAEUS. Silence! if War should hear your shouts of joy he would bound forth from his retreat in fury.
CHORUS. Such a decree overwhelms us with joy; how different to the edict, which bade us muster with provisions for three days.
TRYGAEUS. Let us beware lest the cursed Cerberus prevent us even from the nethermost hell from delivering the goddess by his furious howling, just as he did when on earth.
CHORUS. Once we have hold of her, none in the world will be able to take her from us. Huzza! huzza!
TRYGAEUS. You will work my death if you don’t subdue your shouts. War will come running out and trample everything beneath his feet.
CHORUS. Well then! Let him confound, let him trample, let him overturn everything! We cannot help giving vent to our joy.
TRYGAEUS. Oh! cruel fate! My friends! in the name of the gods, what possesses you? Your dancing will wreck the success of a fine undertaking.
CHORUS. ’Tis not I who want to dance; ’tis my legs that bound with delight.
TRYGAEUS. Enough, an you love me, cease your gambols.
CHORUS. There! Tis over.
TRYGAEUS. You say so, and nevertheless you go on.
CHORUS. Yet one more figure and ’tis done.
TRYGAEUS. Well, just this one; then you must dance no more.
CHORUS. No, no more dancing, if we can help you.
TRYGAEUS. But look, you are not stopping even now.
CHORUS. By Zeus, I am only throwing up my right leg, that’s all.
TRYGAEUS. Come, I grant you that, but pray, annoy me no further.
CHORUS. Ah! the left leg too will have its fling; well, ’tis but its right. I am so happy, so delighted at not having to carry my buckler any more. I sing and I laugh more than if I had cast my old age, as a serpent does its skin.
TRYGAEUS. No, ’tis no time for joy yet, for you are not sure of success. But when you have got the goddess, then rejoice, shout and laugh; thenceforward you will be ab
le to sail or stay at home, to make love or sleep, to attend festivals and processions, to play at cottabos, live like true Sybarites and to shout, Io, io!
CHORUS. Ah! God grant we may see the blessed day. I have suffered so much; have so oft slept with Phormio on hard beds. You will no longer find me an acid, angry, hard judge as heretofore, but will find me turned indulgent and grown younger by twenty years through happiness. We have been killing ourselves long enough, tiring ourselves out with going to the Lyceum and returning laden with spear and buckler. — But what can we do to please you? Come, speak; for ’tis a good Fate, that has named you our leader.
TRYGAEUS. How shall we set about removing these stones?
HERMES. Rash reprobate, what do you propose doing?
TRYGAEUS. Nothing bad, as Cillicon said.
HERMES. You are undone, you wretch.
TRYGAEUS. Yes, if the lot had to decide my life, for Hermes would know how to turn the chance.
HERMES. You are lost, you are dead.
TRYGAEUS. On what day?
HERMES. This instant.
TRYGAEUS. But I have not provided myself with flour and cheese yet to start for death.
HERMES. You are kneaded and ground already, I tell you.
TRYGAEUS. Hah! I have not yet tasted that gentle pleasure.
HERMES. Don’t you know that Zeus has decreed death for him who is surprised exhuming Peace?
TRYGAEUS. What! must I really and truly die?
HERMES. You must.
TRYGAEUS. Well then, lend me three drachmae to buy a young pig; I wish to have myself initiated before I die.
HERMES. Oh! Zeus, the Thunderer!
TRYGAEUS. I adjure you in the name of the gods, master, don’t denounce us!
HERMES. I may not, I cannot keep silent.
TRYGAEUS. In the name of the meats which I brought you so good-naturedly.
HERMES. Why, wretched man, Zeus will annihilate me, if I do not shout out at the top of my voice, to inform him what you are plotting.
TRYGAEUS. Oh, no! don’t shout, I beg you, dear little Hermes…. And what are you doing, comrades? You stand there as though you were stocks and stones. Wretched men, speak, entreat him at once; otherwise he will be shouting.