Is Polite Society Polite? Part 9

LAMACHUS

Bring me my plumes and my helmet.

DIKaeOPOLIS

Bring me doves and thrushes.

LAMACHUS

Fair and white is the plume of the ostrich.

DIKaeOPOLIS

Fair and yellow is the flesh of the dove.

LAMACHUS

O man! leave off laughing at my weapons.

DIKaeOPOLIS

O man! don't you look at my thrushes.

LAMACHUS

Bring the case that holds my plumes.

DIKaeOPOLIS

And bring me a dish of hare.

LAMACHUS

But the moths have eaten my crest.

Dikaeopolis makes some insolent rejoinder, at which the general takes fire. He calls for his lance; Dikaeopolis, for the spit, which he frees from the roast meat. Lamachus raises his Gorgon-orbed s.h.i.+eld; Dikaeopolis lifts a full-orbed pancake. Lamachus then performs a mock act of divination:--

Pour oil upon the s.h.i.+eld. What do I trace In the divining mirror? 'Tis the face Of an old coward, fortified with fear, That sees his trial for desertion near.

DIKaeOPOLIS

Pour honey on the pancake. What appears?

A comely personage, advanced in years, Firmly resolved to laugh at and defy Both Lamachus and the Gorgon family.

In "The Frogs," G.o.d and demiG.o.d, Bacchus and Hercules, are put upon the stage with audacious humor. The first has borrowed the costume of the second, in which unfitting garb he knocks at Hercules' door on his way to Hades, his errand being to find and bring back Euripides. The dearth of clever poets is the reason alleged for this undertaking. Hercules suggests to him various poets who are still on earth. Bacchus condemns them as "warblers of the grove; poor, puny wretches!" He now asks Hercules for introductions to his friends in the lower regions, and for

Any communication about the country, The roads, the streets, the bridges, public houses And lodgings, free from bugs and fleas, if possible.

Hercules mentions various ways of arriving at the infernal regions: "The hanging road,--rope and noose?"--"That's too stifling."--"The pestle and mortar, then,--the beaten road?"--"No; that gives one cold feet."--"Go, then, to the tower of the Keramicus, and throw yourself headlong." No; Bacchus does not wish to have his brains dashed out. He would go by the road which Hercules took. Of this, Hercules gives an alarming account, beginning with the bottomless lake and the boat of Charon. Bacchus determines to set forth, but is detained by the recalcitrance of his servant, Xanthias, who refuses to carry his bundle any further.

A funeral now comes across the stage. Bacchus asks the dead man if he is willing to carry some bundles to h.e.l.l for him. The dead man demands two drachmas for the service. Bacchus offers him ninepence, which he angrily refuses, and is carried out of sight. Charon presently appears, and makes known, like a good ferryman, the points at which he will deliver pa.s.sengers.

Who wants the ferryman?

Anybody waiting to remove from the sorrows of life?

A pa.s.sage to Lethe's wharf? to Cerberus' Beach?

To Tartarus? to Tenaros? to Perdition?

Just so, in my youth, sailing on the Hudson, one heard all night the sound of Peekskill landing! Fishkill landing! Rhinebeck landing!--with darkness and swish of steam quite infernal enough.

Charon takes Bacchus on board, but compels him to do his part of the rowing, promising him: "As soon as you begin you shall have music that will teach you to keep time."

This music is the famous "Chorus of the Frogs," beginning, "Brokekekesh, koash, koash," and running through many lines, with this occasional refrain, of which Bacchus soon tires, as he does of the oar. His servant Xanthias is obliged to make the journey by land and on foot, Charon bidding him wait for his master at the Stone of Repentance, by the Slough of Despond, beyond the Tribulations. After encountering the Empousa, a nursery hobgoblin, they meet the spirits of the initiated, singing hymns to Bacchus--whom they invoke as Jacchus--and to Ceres.

This part of the play, intended, Frere says, to ridicule the Eleusinian mysteries, is curiously human in its incongruity,--a jumble of the beautiful and the trivial. I must quote from it the closing strophe:--

Let us hasten, let us fly Where the lovely meadows lie, Where the living waters flow, Where the roses bloom and blow.

Heirs of immortality, Segregated safe and pure, Easy, sorrowless, secure, Since our earthly course is run, We behold a brighter sun.

Such sweet words we to-day could expect to hear from the lips of our own dear ones, gone before.

Very incongruous is certainly this picture of Bacchus, in a cowardly and ribald state of mind, listening to the hymn which celebrates his divine aspect. Jacchus, whom the spirits invoke, is the glorified Bacchus, the highest ideal of what was vital religion in those days. But the G.o.d himself is not professionally, only personally, present, and, wearing the disguise of Hercules, in no way notices or responds to the strophes which invoke him. He asks the band indeed to direct him to Pluto's house, which turns out to be near at hand.

Before its door, Bacchus is seized with such a fit of timidity that, instead of knocking, he asks his servant to tell him how the native inhabitants of the region knock at doors. Reproved by the servant, he knocks, and announces himself as the valiant Hercules. aeacus, the porter, now rushes out upon him with violent abuse, reviling him for having stolen, or attempted to steal, the watch-dog, Cerberus, and threatening him with every horror which h.e.l.l can inflict. aeacus departs, and Bacchus persuades his servant to don the borrowed garb of Hercules, while he loads himself with the baggage which the other was carrying.

Proserpine, however, sends her maid to invite the supposed Hercules to a feast of dainties. Xanthias now a.s.sumes the manners befitting the hero, at which Bacchus orders him to change dresses with him once more, and a.s.sume his own costume, which he does. Hardly have they done this, when Bacchus is again set upon by two frantic women, who shriek in his ears the deeds of gluttony committed by Hercules in Hades, and not paid for.

There; that's he That came to our house, ate those nineteen loaves.

Aye; sure enough. That's he, the very man; And a dozen and a half of cutlets and fried chops, At a penny ha' penny apiece. And all the garlic, And the good green cheese that he gorged at once.

And then, when I called for payment, he looked fierce And stared me in the face, and grinned and roared.

The women threaten the false Hercules with the pains and penalties of swindling. He now pretends to soliloquize: "I love poor Xanthias dearly; that I do."

"Yes," says Xanthias, "I know why; but it's of no use. I won't act Hercules." Xanthias, however, allows himself to be persuaded, and when aeacus, appearing with a force, cries: "Arrest me there that fellow that stole the dog," Xanthias contrives to make an effectual resistance.

Having thus gained time, he a.s.sures aeacus that he never stole so much as a hair of his dog's tail; but gives him leave to put Bacchus, his supposed slave, to the torture, in order to elicit from him the truth.

aeacus, softened by this proposal, asks in which way the master would prefer to have his slave tortured. Xanthias replies:

In your own way, with the lash, with knots and screws, With the common, usual, customary tortures, With the rack, with the water torture, any sort of way, With fire and vinegar--all sorts of ways.

Bacchus, thus driven to the wall, proclaims his divinity, and claims Xanthias as his slave. The latter suggests that if Bacchus is a divinity, he may be beaten without injury, as he will not feel it.

Bacchus retorts, "If you are Hercules, so may you." aeacus, to ascertain the truth, impartially belabors them both. Each, in turn, cries out, and pretends to have quoted from the poets. aeacus, unable to decide which is the G.o.d and which the impostor, brings them both before Proserpine and Pluto.

In the course of a delicious dialogue between the two servants, aeacus and Xanthias, it is mentioned that Euripides, on coming to the shades, had driven aeschylus from the seat of honor at Pluto's board, holding himself to be the worthier poet. aeschylus has objected to this, and the matter is now to be settled by a trial of skill in which Bacchus is to be the umpire.

The shades of Euripides and aeschylus appear in the next scene, with Bacchus between them. aeschylus wishes the trial had taken place elsewhere. Why? Because while his tragedies live on earth, those of Euripides are dead, and have descended with him to bear him company in h.e.l.l. The encounter of wits between the two is of the grandiose comic, each taunting the other with his faults of composition. Euripides says of aeschylus:

He never used a simple word But bulwarks and scamanders and hippogriffs and Gorgons, b.l.o.o.d.y, remorseless phrases.

aeschylus rejoins:

Well, then, thou paltry wretch, explain What were your own devices?