University of Virginia Library

SCENE THE FIRST.

Creon, Hæmon.
Cre.
I am prepared to give thee audience.
Thou saidst, oh son, that I from thee should hear
Matters of import high: at the same time
Thou may'st, perchance, from my lips hear the same.

Hæm.
A suppliant I approach thee: to confront
The first and fierce emotions of thy rage
I deem'd unwise: now that it somewhat yields
To reason's influence, I come, though alone,
The organ of the Theban multitude,
Thee, to conjure, oh father, to use pity.
Wilt thou refuse me this indulgence, father?
Two pious ladies have infringed thy law;
But who would not have broken such an edict?

Cre.
Who, but thyself, would dare to intercede
For those who have defied it?

Hæm.
Nor dost thou
Deem in thy heart their sacred enterprise
Worthy of death; ah no! I think thee not,
Nor art thou, so unnatural and unjust.

Cre.
Thebes and my son may call me at their will
Cruel, I am contented to be just.
T'obey all laws, whate'er those laws may be,
All are alike required. To Heaven alone
Are kings accountable for what they do:
And there is neither age, nor rank, nor sex,
That palliates th'audacious turpitude
Of incomplete obedience. To permit
A few delinquents to remain unpunished
Gives license to the many.

Hæm.
Didst thou deem,
When thou didst frame thy law, that two such ladies
Should be the first its penance to defy?
A wife, a sister, emulously both
Rising above their sex? ...

Cre.
Hear me, oh son;
From thee I ought not any thing to hide.
Or thou know'st not, or thou will'st not to know,
Or thou pretendest not to fathom them;
I therefore wish to explain my schemes to thee.
I thought, I hoped, ... what do I say? ... by force
I would constrain Antigone alone
To be the first in Thebes to break my law;
At last I have obtain'd my heart's desire;
Antigone has fallen in the snare;
The useless law may now be abrogated ...

Hæm.
Oh earth! oh heavens! and do I call thee father?

Cre.
Ungrateful son; ... or dull of apprehension,
For such my love would fain account thee yet:
I am thy father: if thou hold me guilty,
I am so for thy sake.

Hæm.
I clearly see
The execrable means by which thou hopest
My fortunes to advance. Disastrous throne!
Thou never shalt be mine, if, by such means,
Thou art to be obtain'd.

Cre.
I fill that throne,
That throne is mine which thou rejectest thus.
If to a father, as becomes a son,
Thou canst not speak, speak to him as thy king.

Hæm.
Unhappy son! ... my father; ... pardon; ... hear; ...
Thou wilt not reap the fruit of such a scheme,
And wilt degrade thy name. Absolute power,
E'en in the king most absolute, avails not
To drown the cry of universal nature.
All feel compassion for the pious virgin:
Thy scheme will be discover'd by the Thebans;
Discover'd and abhorr'd, perhaps not suffer'd.

Cre.
And darest thou welcome first the impious doubt,
The doubt by all men hitherto unspoken,
Whether or not my will should be obeyed?
Save from my will, my arbitrary power
Disdains to hear of limit or controul.
Thou hast not taught me how to wield the sceptre.
I soon shall make in every Theban heart
All passions dumb, except the one of fear.

Hæm.
My intercessions, then, are unavailing?
My fond reliance that thou wouldst relent?

Cre.
Utterly vain.

Hæm.
The progeny of kings,
Two ladies, then, to opprobrious death are doom'd,
Since, at their hands, due rites of sepulture
A brother, and a husband, has received?

Cre.
One is thus doom'd.—Little the other's fate
Imports; as yet I know it not.

Hæm.
Me then,
Me then with her shalt thou consign to death.
Hear, father, hear; I love Antigone;
Long have I loved her; loved her more than life:
And ere thou tear'st Antigone from me,
Thou wilt be forced to take away my life.

Cre.
Ungrateful son! Thus dost thou love thy father?

Hæm.
I swear I love thee, e'en as I love her.

Cre.
Vexatious hindrance! In thy father's heart
Thou hast infix'd an unexpected wound,
A mortal wound. Fatal will be thy love
To my repose, to thine, and to the fame
And glory of us both! The world holds not
Aught precious in my sight compared to thee ...
Too much I love thee, herein lies my crime ...
Is this thy recompense for such affection?
Thou lovest her, entreatest for her safety,
Who mocks my power, who holds me in contempt,
And dares to tell me so; and in her breast
Conceals ambitious wishes for the throne?
This throne, the source of my solicitude,
Because thou may'st one day inherit it.

Hæm.
Thou art mistaken: in her pious breast,
I swear, there lives not one ambitious thought:
No other thoughts are rooted in thy nature.
Hence thou know'st not, nor canst thou ever know,
The mighty power of love, before whose throne
All projects of advancement prostrate fall.
Thou didst not always deem Antigone
Thy enemy, yet have I always loved her:
To change, with change of circumstance, my love,
Was more than human nature could perform.
I could be silent, and I held my peace.
Nor, hadst thou not constrain'd me, should I now,
Oh father, have reveal'd my secret fondness.
Oh, heavens! must she her virgin neck lay down
To the impious axe? ... and must I suffer it?
Must I behold it? Couldst thou contemplate
With a less haughty and less clouded eye,
Her noble heart, her elevated thoughts,
Her qualities, as rare as they are sublime,
Thou, even as thy son, yea, more than he,
At once wouldst reverence and admire her virtues.
Who dared, beneath the cruel government
Of fierce Eteocles, appear the friend
Of Polinices? She alone dared do it.
In whom, except in her, did her blind father,
By all deserted, find a pitying friend?
Lastly, Jocasta, then held dear by thee,
By birth thy sister, to her grief immense,
Afflicted mother, say, what other source
Of comfort had she left? In all her tears
What solace, what companion, did she find?
What daughter had she but Antigone?
Thou say'st she is the child of Œdipus;
But for a crime, in which she bore no part,
Her virtues make a plenary atonement.
Again I say, the throne is not her object:
Never, oh never, hope to see me happy
At her expense: gods, were she so at mine!
I would not only give the throne of Thebes,
But that of all the world to make her so.

Cre.
Does she return thy love with equal love?

Hæm.
There is no love that can compare with mine.
She loves me not; nor can she ever love me:
If she detest me not, it is enough
To satisfy my heart; I hope no more:
T'expect more from her heart, who ought to hate me,
Would be unreasonable.

Cre.
But tell me further,
Would she consent to give to thee her hand?

Hæm.
A royal virgin, from whom has been torn,
And torn by impious violence, her brothers,
Her mother, and her father, shall she give
Her hand in marriage? give it too to me,
Sprung from a blood that's fatal to her race?
Could I be so presumptuous? Creon's son,
Could I dare offer her my hand? ...

Cre.
Thou may'st,
That hand at once restores her life and throne.

Hæm.
Too well I know her, and too much I love her:
Foster'd in weeping, more than ever now
She spends her life in tears. Perhaps hereafter
She may see days less tragical than these,
And may be less averse to listen to me;
Thou mayest then ...

Cre.
Thou vainly dost expect
That I should put our destiny in wardship
To time, and its precarious events.—
Guards, quickly be Antigone brought forth
Into my presence.—She deserves to die;
I may, with justice, sentence her to death;
And, perhaps, 'twould be in me a proof of wisdom,
With summary rigour, to inflict that sentence.
But yet, my son, thou art so dear to me,
That, for thy sake alone, I will consent
To grant her life, to accept her as my daughter,
If she consent to yield to thee her hand.
And can she hesitate to make a choice
Betwixt a scaffold and a monarch's son?

Hæm.
Hesitate? no! She will chuse instant death.

Cre.
She hates thee then.

Hæm.
She loves the dead too well.

Cre.
I understand thee. Thou desirest, son,
That I should life preserve in her, who would,
If she had power, take life from me and mine.
Canst thou presume to expect, or ask, so much
Of a fond father who so much loves thee?