Sophocles
Translated by H. D. F. Kitto, 1962
Oedipus’ troubles did not end there. In the final scenes of Oedipus Rex, his wife Jocasta kills herself and he blinds himself with her brooch pins before leaving Thebes. Jocasta’s brother Creon is now guardian of the city. Sophocles’ play, Antigone, sees Creon at odds with Oedipus’ daughter Antigone. Her brothers, Eteocles and Polyneices, have killed one another. Creon has forbidden the burial of Polyneices on the grounds that he was a traitor. Antigone urges her sister Ismene to help her lay Polyneices to rest. Ismene is afraid to break Creon’s law. The only law Antigone recognises is divine law. She therefore proceeds to bury her brother alone. In this scene her act of defiance is reported to Creon.
CHORUS. [Sings] Wonders are many, yet of all
Things is Man the most wonderful.
He can sail on the stormy sea
Though the tempest rage, and the loud
Waves roar around, as he makes his
Path amid the towering surge.
Earth inexhaustible, ageless, he wearies, as
Backwards and forwards, from season to season, his
Ox-team drives along the ploughshare.
He can entrap the cheerful birds,
Setting a snare, and all the wild
Beasts of the earth he has learned to catch, and
Fish that teem in the deep sea, with
Nets knotted of stout cords; of
Such inventiveness is man.
Through his inventions he becomes lord
Even of the beasts of the mountain: the long-haired
Horse he subdues to the yoke on his neck, and the
Hill-bred bull, of strength untiring.
And speech he has learned, and thought
So swift, and the temper of mind
To dwell within cities, and not to lie bare
Amid the keen, biting frosts
Or cower beneath pelting rain;
Full of resource against all that comes to him
Is Man. Against Death alone
He is left with no defence.
But painful sickness he can cure
By his own skill.
Surpassing belief, the device and
Cunning that Man has attained,
And it bringeth him now to evil, now to good.
If he observe Law, and tread
The righteous path God ordained,
Honoured is he; dishonoured, the man whose reckless heart
Shall make him join hands with sin:
May I not think like him,
Nor may such an impious man
Dwell in my house.
[Enter GUARD, with ANTIGONE.]
CHORUS. What evil spirit is abroad? I know
Her well: Antigone. But how can I
Believe it? Why, O you unlucky daughter
Of an unlucky father, what is this?
Can it be you, so mad and so defiant,
So disobedient to a King’s decree?
GUARD. Here is the one who did the deed, this girl;
We caught her burying him.—But where is Creon?
CHORUS. He comes, just as you need him, from the palace.
[Enter CREON, attended.]
CREON. How? What occasion makes my coming timely?
GUARD. Sir, against nothing should a man take oath,
For second thoughts belie him. Under your threats
That lashed me like a hailstorm, I’d have said
I would not quickly have come here again;
But joy that comes beyond our dearest hope
Surpasses all in magnitude. So I
Return, though I had sworn I never would,
Bringing this girl detected in the act
Of honouring the body. This time no lot
Was cast; the windfall is my very own.
And so, my lord, do as you please: take her
Yourself, examine her, cross-question her.
I claim the right of free and final quittance.
CREON. Why do you bring this girl? Where was she taken?
GUARD. In burying the body. That is all.
CREON. You know what you are saying? Do you mean it?
GUARD. I saw her giving burial to the corpse
You had forbidden. Is that plain and clear?
CREON. How did you see and take her so red-handed?
GUARD. It was like this. When we had reached the place,
Those dreadful threats of yours upon our heads,
We swept aside each grain of dust that hid
The clammy body, leaving it quite bare,
And sat down on a hill, to the windward side
That so we might avoid the smell of it.
We kept sharp look-out; each man roundly cursed
His neighbour, if he should neglect his duty.
So the time passed, until the blazing sun
Reached his mid-course and burned us with his heat.
Then, suddenly, a whirlwind came from heaven
And raised a storm of dust, which blotted out
The earth and sky; the air was filled with sand
And leaves ripped from the trees. We closed our eyes
And bore this visitation as we could.
At last it ended; then we saw the girl.
She raised a bitter cry, as will a bird
Returning to its nest and finding it
Despoiled, a cradle empty of its young.
So, when she saw the body bare, she raised
A cry of anguish mixed with imprecations
Laid upon those who did it; then at once
Brought handfuls of dry dust, and raised aloft
A shapely vase of bronze, and three times poured
The funeral libation for the dead.
We rushed upon her swiftly, seized our prey.
And charged her both with this offence and that.
She faced us calmly; she did not disown
The double crime. How glad I was!—and yet
How sorry too; it is a painful thing
To bring a friend to ruin. Still, for me,
My own escape comes before everything.
CREON. You there, who keep your eyes fixed on the ground,
Do you admit this, or do you deny it?
ANTIGONE. No, I do not deny it. I admit it.
CREON. [To GUARD] Then you may go; go where you like. You have
Been fully cleared of that grave accusation.
[Exit GUARD.]
You: tell me briefly—I want no long speech:
Did you not know that this had been forbidden?
ANTIGONE. Of course I knew. There was a proclamation.
CREON. And so you dared to disobey the law?
ANTIGONE. It was not Zeus who published this decree,
Nor have the Powers who rule among the dead
Imposed such laws as this upon mankind;
Nor could I think that a decree of yours—
A man—could override the laws of Heaven
Unwritten and unchanging. Not of today
Or yesterday is their authority;
They are eternal; no man saw their birth.
Was I to stand before the gods’ tribunal
For disobeying them, because I feared
A man? I knew that I should have to die,
Even without your edict; if I die
Before my time, why then, I count it gain;
To one who lives as I do, ringed about
With countless miseries, why, death is welcome.
For me to meet this doom is little grief;
But when my mother’s son lay dead, had I
Neglected him and left him there unburied,
That would have caused me grief; this causes none.
And if you think it folly, then perhaps
I am accused of folly by the fool.
CHORUS. The daughter shows her father’s temper—fierce,
Defiant; she will not yield to any storm.
CREON. But it is those that are most obstinate
Suffer the greatest fall; the hardest iron,
Most fiercely tempered in the fire, that is
Most often snapped and splintered. I have seen
The wildest horses tamed, and only by
The tiny bit. There is no room for pride
In one who is a slave! This girl already
Had fully learned the art of insolence
When she transgressed the laws that I established;
And now to that she adds a second outrage—
To boast of what she did, and laugh at us.
Now she would be the man, not I, if she
Defeated me and did not pay for it.
But though she be my niece, or closer still
Than all our family, she shall not escape
The direst penalty; no, nor shall her sister:
I judge her guilty too; she played her part
In burying the body. Summon her.
Just now I saw her raving and distracted
Within the palace. So it often is:
Those who plan crime in secret are betrayed
Despite themselves; they show it in their faces.
But this is worst of all: to be convicted
And then to glorify the crime as virtue.
[Exeunt some GUARDS.]
ANTIGONE. Would you do more than simply take and kill me?
CREON. I will have nothing more, and nothing less.
ANTIGONE. Then why delay? To me no word of yours
Is pleasing—God forbid it should be so!—
And everything in me displeases you.
Yet what could I have done to win renown
More glorious than giving burial
To my own brother? These men too would say it,
Except that terror cows them into silence.
A king has many a privilege: the greatest,
That he can say and do all that he will.
CREON. You are the only one in Thebes to think it!
ANTIGONE. These think as I do—but they dare not speak.
CREON. Have you no shame, not to conform with others?
ANTIGONE. To reverence a brother is no shame.
CREON. Was he no brother, he who died for Thebes?
ANTIGONE. One mother and one father gave them birth.
CREON. Honouring the traitor, you dishonour him.
ANTIGONE. He will not bear this testimony, in death.
CREON. Yes! if the traitor fare the same as he.
ANTIGONE. It was a brother, not a slave who died!
CREON. He died attacking Thebes; the other saved us.
ANTIGONE. Even so, the god of Death demands these rites.
CREON. The good demand more honour than the wicked.
ANTIGONE. Who knows? In death they may be reconciled.
CREON. Death does not make an enemy a friend!
ANTIGONE. Even so, I give both love, not share their hatred.
CREON. Down then to Hell! Love there, if love you must.
While I am living, no woman shall have rule.
[Enter GUARDS, with ISMENE.]
CHORUS. [Chants] See where Ismene leaves the palace-gate,
In tears shed for her sister. On her brow
A cloud of grief has blotted out her sun,
And breaks in rain upon her comeliness.
CREON. You, lurking like a serpent in my house,
Drinking my life-blood unawares; nor did
I know that I was cherishing two fiends,
Subverters of my throne; come, tell me this:
Do you confess you shared this burial.
Or will you swear you had no knowledge of it?
ISMENE. I did it too, if she allows my claim;
I share the burden of this heavy charge.
ANTIGONE. No! Justice will not suffer that; for you
Refused, and I gave you no part in it.
ISMENE. But in your stormy voyage I am glad
To share the danger, travelling at your side.
ANTIGONE. Whose was the deed the god of Death knows well;
I love not those who love in words alone.
ISMENE. My sister, do not scorn me, nor refuse
That I may die with you, honouring the dead.
ANTIGONE. You shall not die with me, nor claim as yours
What you rejected. My death will be enough.
ISMENE. What life is left to me if I lose you?
ANTIGONE. Ask Creon! It was Creon that you cared for.
ISMENE. O why taunt me, when it does not help you?
ANTIGONE. If I do taunt you, it is to my pain.
ISMENE. Can I not help you, even at this late hour?
ANTIGONE. Save your own life. I grudge not your escape.
ISMENE. Alas! Can I not join you in your fate?
ANTIGONE. You cannot: you chose life, and I chose death.
ISMENE. But not without the warning that I gave you!
ANTIGONE. Some thought you wise; the dead commended me.
ISMENE. But my offence has been as great as yours.
ANTIGONE. Be comforted; you live, but I have given
My life already, in service of the dead.
CREON. Of these two girls, one has been driven frantic,
The other has been frantic since her birth.
ISMENE. Not so, my lord; but when disaster comes
The reason that one has can not stand firm.
CREON. Yours did not, when you chose to partner crime!
ISMENE. But what is life to me, without my sister?
CREON. Say not ‘my sister’: sister you have none.
Antigone hangs herself. Creon’s son Haemon, who was engaged to her, kills himself. Haemon’s devastated mother kills herself. For his hubris, Creon has witnessed the devastating collapse of his household.
A version of this story by Jean Anouilh was performed in Paris in 1944. Its juxtaposition of rejection of authority (by Antigone) and acceptance of it (by Creon) offered parallels with life under the German Occupation of France.