Author: Seneca
Translation: Caryl Churchill
Date: c.62 CE
Synopsis: Atreus is king of Mycenae and is intent on revenge against his brother Thyestes. Sons of Pelops, they were destined to take turns ruling the country and keeping the symbol of power, a ram with a golden fleece. However, while Atreus was king, Thyestes seduced his wife and together they stole the ram. Civil war ensued. Now Atreus is king again whilst Thyestes and his three sons are in exile. He lures his brother and nephews to his kingdom on the promise of peace and the offer of sharing his crown. Unbeknownst to Thyestes, Atreus murders the boys and cooks them (save their heads, hands, and feet) to serve to their father for the celebration feast. Revenge is realised when he reveals to the sated Thyestes the fate of his young sons.
What moved me: the economy of Churchill’s version has stripped back the slight floridness usually associated in my mind with much translation of classical tragedy. She exposes a perfectly-working muscle. Blunt. Fast. There is little hope of redemption. Seneca’s decision to end the play with the rotten Atreus, instead of the Chorus, is no accident.
An example of this bareness:
FURY: […]
Then there’ll be nothing
anger thinks forbidden,
brother terrifies
brother, father sons and
sons fathers, children’s
deaths are vile and their births
even worse. A wife
destroys her husband,
wars cross the sea to Troy,
the earth is watered with
blood and great leaders
are defeated by lust.
Rape’s a joke and love and
laws both fade away.
The sky’s not exempt. Why
are the stars shining?
do their flames still owe the
world glory? Let night
be something else. Let day
fall out of the sky.
So stir up your gods, call
hatred, carnage and
funerals, and fill the
whole house with Tantalus.
(Caryl Churchill, 1995)
vimh 