Euripides (Burian trans)’s “Helen (482-597 Recognition Scene)”
MENELAUS:
What am I to make of this? I’m absolutely
at a loss. A nasty turn of events, after
everything I’ve already been through! Can it be
that I captured my wife from the Trojans, brought her all
this way, hid her safely in a cave, only
to find that another woman, with the same name
as hers, is living in this very palace?
And the old woman called her the daughter of Zeus! Is there
really someone named Zeus living on the banks
of the Nile? No! there’s only one Zeus, and he’s
in heaven. And where will you find a second Sparta,
apart from the one built beside Eurotas’
reedy shores? Can Tyndareus’ name belong
to someone else, and can there be another
land called Lacedaemon? Or another Troy?
I can’t think what to say. (pauses briefly) Well, after all,
is it so strange, on this wide earth, for many
men to share one name, or many cities,
or women, for that matter? It’s really nothing
to marvel at. And I’m not going to let
a serving woman’s bluster run me off!
Surely no man is so uncouth that he’d
deny me food once he heard my name.
The fires of Troy are famous, and the man who lit them
is not entirely unknown.
(moving to the far side of Proteus’ tomb)
I’ll wait here
for the king’s return. That way, I’ll have two
safe choices: if he’s some sort of savage
I’ll keep hidden, then make for the wreck; but if
he shows a gentle side, I’ll ask him to give me
everything my wretched circumstances require.
Of all my miseries, this is the very worst:
that I, a king myself, should have to ask
another king for even a crust of bread.
Still, ask I must. It was a wise man,
and not myself, who said it best: nothing
is more powerful than harsh necessity.
CHORUS:
(reenters from palace, without seeing Menelaus)
(chanting)
We heard inside what we desired.
The prophet-maiden said that earth
has not yet covered Menelaus.
He hasn’t gone to the darkly shining
realm of gloom, but wastes his strength
in endless voyaging from Troy
across the storm-tossed swollen sea.
His homeland’s harbor still eludes him,
and sore of heart, bereft of friends,
starvation always near, he grounds
his ship on every alien shore.
HELEN:
(following the Chorus from the palace)
I return to my refuge at the tomb after hearing
Theonoe's welcome words. She knows the truth, 530
and she says he’s alive. My husband lives,
sees daylight still! He’s wandered back and forth,
crossed and recrossed the sea, wrestled with every
kind of trouble, but when all the roving’s done,
he’ll be coming here at last. There’s only one
thing she didn’t say: will he be safe
when he gets here? I was so overjoyed
at the news that he survived, I didn't want
to ask. She did say that he’s somewhere near,
shipwrecked and cast ashore with a few comrades.
Oh, please come soon, come and still my longing!
(moves toward the tomb and catches a glimpse of
Menelaus)
Wait! Who’s that? Can this be some plot, some trap
set by Proteus’ scapegrace, impious son?
I must run like a racing filly to reach the tomb,
or like a bacchant in the throes of the god’s frenzy.
He looks like a wild man, and he wants to hunt me down!
MENELAUS:
(coming between Helen and the tomb)
Stop! Why struggle so to reach the steps
of the tomb? Why this desperate race? Wait!
Don’t run away! Now that I’ve seen your face,
you fill me with amazement and leave me speechless.
HELEN:
(turning to the Chorus)
Women, I am being wronged! This man is barring
my path to the tomb. He wants to seize me and hand me
over to the tyrant whose bed I’ve been avoiding.
MENELAUS:
(withdrawing from Helen’s path)
I'm not a bandit, and I don’t work for one, either.
HELEN:
And yet that cloak of yours is shabby enough.
(dashes toward the tomb)
MENELAUS:
There’s no need to run, nothing to be afraid of.
HELEN:
(reaching the tomb)
I’m not running—now that I’m safe at the tomb.
MENELAUS:
Who are you? Whose face do I look upon, lady?
HELEN:
(observing Menelaus more closely)
And you? Who are you? The same question troubles us both.
MENELAUS:
(aside)
I have never seen anything like her resemblance to Helen!
HELEN:
(Aside) Dear gods! For it is godly to recognize one's own!
MENELAUS:
Are you a Greek or a native of this place?
HELEN:
A Greek; and you? I want to know more about you.
MENELAUS:
You look so very much like Helen, lady.
HELEN:
And you like Menelaus. What can I say?
MENELAUS:
You have recognized the most wretched of men.
HELEN: (taking hold of Menelaus’ cloak)
Then welcome at long last to your own wife’s arms!
MENELAUS: (drawing back anxiously)
Don't touch my robes! Wife? What wife do you mean?
HELEN:
The one my father, Tyndareus, gave you in marriage.
MENELAUS:
Hecate, torchbearing goddess, send kindly phantoms! 570
HELEN:
I’m no nighttime accomplice of the queen of crossroads.
MENELAUS:
Nor am I, believe me, a husband with two wives.
HELEN:
Who is this other woman you call your wife?
MENELAUS:
The one I brought from Troy and hid in a cave.
HELEN:
I am your only wife; you have no other.
MENELAUS:
Maybe my mind’s all right, and my eyes are wrong.
HELEN:
Look at me. Don’t you think you see your wife?
MENELAUS:
You look like her, but how can I be sure?
HELEN:
Look again! What better proof could you want?
MENELAUS:
You do seem to be Helen. I can’t deny it.
HELEN:
What better teacher than your own two eyes?
MENELAUS:
My eyes are the problem! I have another wife.
HELEN:
I didn’t go to Troy; that was a phantom.
MENELAUS:
And who makes living, breathing bodies like hers?
HELEN:
A god molded and shaped her from thin air.
MENELAUS:
Which god was that? This is beyond belief.
HELEN:
Hera. She made a changeling to fool Paris.
MENELAUS:
Then you were here and in Troy at the same time?
HELEN:
A name can do what a body never could.
MENELAUS:
Let me go; I came here with troubles enough.
HELEN:
What? leave me and run off with a shadow-bride?
MENELAUS:
Yes, and fare well, for you look so much like Helen.
HELEN:
I’m dead! I got my husband back—and lost him.
MENELAUS:
The suffering at Troy carries more weight than your words.
(moves to leave)
HELEN:
Aiiiii! Was ever a woman more wretched? My dearest
love deserts me, and now I shall never reach Greece,
never see my homeland again, no, never.
My love deserts me, and now I shall never reach Greece,
never see my homeland again, no, never.
OLD MAN: (entering as Menelaus is about to leave)
Menelaus, I've been scouring every foot
of this strange land, and here you are at last!
The comrades you left behind sent me to find you.
MENELAUS:
What is it? The natives haven't robbed you, have they?
OLD MAN:
Something amazing. There are no words to describe it.
MENELAUS:
Tell me. Strange news, to judge by your excitement.
OLD MAN:
I’ll tell you this: all your struggles were in vain.
MENELAUS:
You're mired in old sorrows; what is your news?
OLD MAN:
Your wife has vanished, swept from the depths of her cave
into thin air. The heavens hide her now.
But as she left, she said: ''You poor, long-suffering
Trojans, and all you Greeks, it was because
of me you kept dying on Scamander's shore,
just as Hera planned. You thought Paris
had Helen in his bed, but he never had her.
Now that I've stayed just long enough to bring
to pass what fate decreed, I'm going back
to the sky that gave me life. Tyndareus'
poor daughter has had to hear her name befouled
with baseless slanders; but she is innocent."
(seeing Helen) Oh, daughter of Leda, have you been here
all along? I was just reporting the news
that you had disappeared, or so it seemed,
into the starry sky. I didn't know
that you had really sprouted wings! I won't
let you make fools of us again this way.
You already gave grief enough to your husband
and his allies when we were camped at Troy.
MENELAUS:
There's the proof! Her story fits this new one,
and now I know it's true. (to Helen) How I have longed
for this day that brings you back to my embrace!
HELEN:
Menelaus, dearest of men, time
has grown old, but joy comes to us fresh and new.
(to Chorus) I have my husband back, dear friends, and it is bliss
after so many flights of the sun, after so many nights
I clasp him again in my loving arms.
MENELAUS:
And I hold you, but with so many stories
to tell between us, I don't know where to begin.
What am I to make of this? I’m absolutely
at a loss. A nasty turn of events, after
everything I’ve already been through! Can it be
that I captured my wife from the Trojans, brought her all
this way, hid her safely in a cave, only
to find that another woman, with the same name
as hers, is living in this very palace?
And the old woman called her the daughter of Zeus! Is there
really someone named Zeus living on the banks
of the Nile? No! there’s only one Zeus, and he’s
in heaven. And where will you find a second Sparta,
apart from the one built beside Eurotas’
reedy shores? Can Tyndareus’ name belong
to someone else, and can there be another
land called Lacedaemon? Or another Troy?
I can’t think what to say. (pauses briefly) Well, after all,
is it so strange, on this wide earth, for many
men to share one name, or many cities,
or women, for that matter? It’s really nothing
to marvel at. And I’m not going to let
a serving woman’s bluster run me off!
Surely no man is so uncouth that he’d
deny me food once he heard my name.
The fires of Troy are famous, and the man who lit them
is not entirely unknown.
(moving to the far side of Proteus’ tomb)
I’ll wait here
for the king’s return. That way, I’ll have two
safe choices: if he’s some sort of savage
I’ll keep hidden, then make for the wreck; but if
he shows a gentle side, I’ll ask him to give me
everything my wretched circumstances require.
Of all my miseries, this is the very worst:
that I, a king myself, should have to ask
another king for even a crust of bread.
Still, ask I must. It was a wise man,
and not myself, who said it best: nothing
is more powerful than harsh necessity.
CHORUS:
(reenters from palace, without seeing Menelaus)
(chanting)
We heard inside what we desired.
The prophet-maiden said that earth
has not yet covered Menelaus.
He hasn’t gone to the darkly shining
realm of gloom, but wastes his strength
in endless voyaging from Troy
across the storm-tossed swollen sea.
His homeland’s harbor still eludes him,
and sore of heart, bereft of friends,
starvation always near, he grounds
his ship on every alien shore.
HELEN:
(following the Chorus from the palace)
I return to my refuge at the tomb after hearing
Theonoe's welcome words. She knows the truth, 530
and she says he’s alive. My husband lives,
sees daylight still! He’s wandered back and forth,
crossed and recrossed the sea, wrestled with every
kind of trouble, but when all the roving’s done,
he’ll be coming here at last. There’s only one
thing she didn’t say: will he be safe
when he gets here? I was so overjoyed
at the news that he survived, I didn't want
to ask. She did say that he’s somewhere near,
shipwrecked and cast ashore with a few comrades.
Oh, please come soon, come and still my longing!
(moves toward the tomb and catches a glimpse of
Menelaus)
Wait! Who’s that? Can this be some plot, some trap
set by Proteus’ scapegrace, impious son?
I must run like a racing filly to reach the tomb,
or like a bacchant in the throes of the god’s frenzy.
He looks like a wild man, and he wants to hunt me down!
MENELAUS:
(coming between Helen and the tomb)
Stop! Why struggle so to reach the steps
of the tomb? Why this desperate race? Wait!
Don’t run away! Now that I’ve seen your face,
you fill me with amazement and leave me speechless.
HELEN:
(turning to the Chorus)
Women, I am being wronged! This man is barring
my path to the tomb. He wants to seize me and hand me
over to the tyrant whose bed I’ve been avoiding.
MENELAUS:
(withdrawing from Helen’s path)
I'm not a bandit, and I don’t work for one, either.
HELEN:
And yet that cloak of yours is shabby enough.
(dashes toward the tomb)
MENELAUS:
There’s no need to run, nothing to be afraid of.
HELEN:
(reaching the tomb)
I’m not running—now that I’m safe at the tomb.
MENELAUS:
Who are you? Whose face do I look upon, lady?
HELEN:
(observing Menelaus more closely)
And you? Who are you? The same question troubles us both.
MENELAUS:
(aside)
I have never seen anything like her resemblance to Helen!
HELEN:
(Aside) Dear gods! For it is godly to recognize one's own!
MENELAUS:
Are you a Greek or a native of this place?
HELEN:
A Greek; and you? I want to know more about you.
MENELAUS:
You look so very much like Helen, lady.
HELEN:
And you like Menelaus. What can I say?
MENELAUS:
You have recognized the most wretched of men.
HELEN: (taking hold of Menelaus’ cloak)
Then welcome at long last to your own wife’s arms!
MENELAUS: (drawing back anxiously)
Don't touch my robes! Wife? What wife do you mean?
HELEN:
The one my father, Tyndareus, gave you in marriage.
MENELAUS:
Hecate, torchbearing goddess, send kindly phantoms! 570
HELEN:
I’m no nighttime accomplice of the queen of crossroads.
MENELAUS:
Nor am I, believe me, a husband with two wives.
HELEN:
Who is this other woman you call your wife?
MENELAUS:
The one I brought from Troy and hid in a cave.
HELEN:
I am your only wife; you have no other.
MENELAUS:
Maybe my mind’s all right, and my eyes are wrong.
HELEN:
Look at me. Don’t you think you see your wife?
MENELAUS:
You look like her, but how can I be sure?
HELEN:
Look again! What better proof could you want?
MENELAUS:
You do seem to be Helen. I can’t deny it.
HELEN:
What better teacher than your own two eyes?
MENELAUS:
My eyes are the problem! I have another wife.
HELEN:
I didn’t go to Troy; that was a phantom.
MENELAUS:
And who makes living, breathing bodies like hers?
HELEN:
A god molded and shaped her from thin air.
MENELAUS:
Which god was that? This is beyond belief.
HELEN:
Hera. She made a changeling to fool Paris.
MENELAUS:
Then you were here and in Troy at the same time?
HELEN:
A name can do what a body never could.
MENELAUS:
Let me go; I came here with troubles enough.
HELEN:
What? leave me and run off with a shadow-bride?
MENELAUS:
Yes, and fare well, for you look so much like Helen.
HELEN:
I’m dead! I got my husband back—and lost him.
MENELAUS:
The suffering at Troy carries more weight than your words.
(moves to leave)
HELEN:
Aiiiii! Was ever a woman more wretched? My dearest
love deserts me, and now I shall never reach Greece,
never see my homeland again, no, never.
My love deserts me, and now I shall never reach Greece,
never see my homeland again, no, never.
OLD MAN: (entering as Menelaus is about to leave)
Menelaus, I've been scouring every foot
of this strange land, and here you are at last!
The comrades you left behind sent me to find you.
MENELAUS:
What is it? The natives haven't robbed you, have they?
OLD MAN:
Something amazing. There are no words to describe it.
MENELAUS:
Tell me. Strange news, to judge by your excitement.
OLD MAN:
I’ll tell you this: all your struggles were in vain.
MENELAUS:
You're mired in old sorrows; what is your news?
OLD MAN:
Your wife has vanished, swept from the depths of her cave
into thin air. The heavens hide her now.
But as she left, she said: ''You poor, long-suffering
Trojans, and all you Greeks, it was because
of me you kept dying on Scamander's shore,
just as Hera planned. You thought Paris
had Helen in his bed, but he never had her.
Now that I've stayed just long enough to bring
to pass what fate decreed, I'm going back
to the sky that gave me life. Tyndareus'
poor daughter has had to hear her name befouled
with baseless slanders; but she is innocent."
(seeing Helen) Oh, daughter of Leda, have you been here
all along? I was just reporting the news
that you had disappeared, or so it seemed,
into the starry sky. I didn't know
that you had really sprouted wings! I won't
let you make fools of us again this way.
You already gave grief enough to your husband
and his allies when we were camped at Troy.
MENELAUS:
There's the proof! Her story fits this new one,
and now I know it's true. (to Helen) How I have longed
for this day that brings you back to my embrace!
HELEN:
Menelaus, dearest of men, time
has grown old, but joy comes to us fresh and new.
(to Chorus) I have my husband back, dear friends, and it is bliss
after so many flights of the sun, after so many nights
I clasp him again in my loving arms.
MENELAUS:
And I hold you, but with so many stories
to tell between us, I don't know where to begin.