Ovid’s Heroides XII

Medea to Jason

The following text, written two thousand years ago by the great Latin poet Ovid, will serve as the basis for the great woman monolog I have in mind.

Shortened and written into modern English, the new text will be set into music for soprano and orchestra (circa 30 minutes). It will depict the emotions of a baffled woman, nostalgic of her epic passion for a man for whom she has abandoned everything and committed the worse crimes: she betrayed her father, left her mother and sister, given up her kingdom, and killed her brother. A woman who - already exiled in a new land, dethroned, and rebuffed by her husband - is ordered to leave for nowhere so he can be free of marrying a young princess.
Passed the evocation of this great passion and the adventures that went along, she will progressively be invaded by nostalgia and finally fall into hatred which will lead her to contemplate terrible crimes for vengeance. The monolog will end when she starts making plans for her killing of her two innocent boys. This ultimate accomplishment of her desire of vengeance and punishment of the children's father gives her a momentary appeasement and satisfaction. But the music will tell us that, if indeed this terrible project eventually happens, the feeling of peace is not to last very long.

Drifting away from the Euripides plot in which the action is driven by the gods, Ovid concentrates on the array of feelings, making of this letter/monolog a dramatic masterpiece of introspection of human nature. The Latin poet, himself suffering in exile, turns the page of the antic ways to open the doors of modern sensitivity.

The music, following the successive psychological states, being the counterpoint of emotions, commenting and anticipating, will be sumptuous, opulent, then hesitating, dark, lit with fire and passion. As though hatred is the mirror of love, the two extremities of passion.

Medea to Jason
Translated into English verses by Daryl Hine

For you, I know, I left the Colchian throne
When you implored my arts to aid your own.
The Sisters three that spin life’s mortal thread
Should then have cut mine off and left me dead !
I could have died with honor; since that time
My life has been disgrace, despair, and crime.

Why did they come? Why did the youth of Greece
Sail in that ship to seek the Golden Fleece?
Why did we see the “Argo” heaving to
And Phasis’ waters drained to serve her crew?
Why was I ruined by your handsome face,
Your fair hair, and your tongue’s deceiving grace?
When that strange ship first touched our shore and placed
The heroes there, then Jason should have faced
The bulls with horns of bronze and fire for breath
Unguarded by my arts – and met his death.
He should have sowed each seed that made a foe
So that the crop delivered his deathblow.
A world of treason would have died with you;
I never would have suffered as I do.

Rebukes of your ingratitude provide
A joy I’ll take, since others are denied.
Ordered to sail a ship untried before,
You landed on my homeland’s wealthy shore.
There I was what your new bride is today;
Like mine, he father’s rich in every way.
Hers governs Corinth, mine the land between
The Black Sea coast and Scythia’s wintry scene.

He entertained the Greeks from far away
On rich, embroidered couches where you lay.
Then I first saw your face and came to know
Your name – the origin of all my woe.
I looked, I died, I burned with unknown fire
As burns the pine torch that the gods require.
Handsome you were, and fate was beckoning too;
I could not keep my eyes away from you.
Traitor, you knew it! Love can’t be concealed;
By its own darting flame the fire’s revealed.

But then you had to force three bulls to bow
Their necks beneath the yoke and draw the plough.
Mars was their master, and their horns less dire
Than was their breath – all fright’ning flames of fire.
Of solid bronze their hooves and nostrils wide
Begrimed with soot their fiery breath supplied.
And then you had to sow with ready hand
Seeds to engender men across the land
Men born with arms to pierce your body through –
A crop out numbering its sower too!
It was your final problem to elude.
The eyes that sleep had never yet subdued.

Such were Aeëtes’ words; in sadness all
Rose up and pushed their couches to the wall.
Of what use then the kingdom of your bribe,
Creusa, or her father in this pride?
Sadly you left; in tears I watched you go,
And I could scarcely say “Good–night,” I know.
I reached my room and lay there, but in vain:
Sleepless the whole night long I cried in pain.
I saw the frightful bulls, the watchful snake,
The ghastly crop – and this kept me awake.
A fearful love I felt; fear makes love grow.
At dawn my sister came (I loved her so!), And found me lying face–down in despair,
With tears still flowing and disordered hair.
The Minyans’ friend she wanted me to be;
I gave to Jason what she asked of me.

There is a grove by pine and oak well hid,
Whose leaves the sunlight’s entry can forbid;
In it Diana’s temple stood – or stands –
Her image carved in gold by native hands.
Did you forget the place as well as me ?
We met there, and you made your faceless plea:
“In your hands now my hopes and fortunes lie:
You can decide if I’m to live or die.
Some may delight in power to destroy,
But if I’m saved you’ll win a greater joy.
Now by my cares – and you can end each one –
By your great ancestor, all–seeing sun,
Diana’s secret rites and triple face,
And any other gods that form your race,
I beg you, maiden, pity me and mine,
And by your help make me forever thine.
For if to wed a Greek you would agree –
But why would heaven grant so much to me? –
I hope to breathe my last and lose my life
Before I take another for my wife.
Now hear me, Juno of the wedding band,
And you great goddess, in whose hall we stand.”
Such words (and more), with our right hands combined,
Served to convince this simple maiden’s mind.
You even wept – can tears be liars too? –
Your tears and words made me a slave to you.
You yoked the bronze–hoofed bulls with unsinged hand,
And drove the plough across the measured land;
With poisoned teeth for seed you sowed the land,
And soldiers rose with arms in every hand.
I sat in fear, although you had my charms,
And watched those instant warriors grasp their arms.
But then the earthborn brothers, strange to tell,
Fought fratricidal war until all fell.

And look! With gleaming scales and hissing sound
The watchful snake uncoiled across the ground.
Did that rich dowry or a royal bribe
Or Corinth of twin seas some help provide?
No, it was I – though now you find me crude,
And poor, and hateful – I who then pursued
Those blazing eyes with drugs that drown in sleep,
And gave you safety and the fleece to keep.
I left my land, my father I betrayed;
For my exile, this was the price I paid.
I yielded to a vagrant thief – to you –
And left my mother and my sister too.

But, brother, I did not leave you behind;
In this respect my pen is not unkind –
The horror of my crime it will not tell;
I wish I had been ripped apart as well!
I even dared – a less impiety –
To trust myself, though guilty, to the sea.
We should have drowned, if gods such deeds condemn,
You for your lies, I for believing them.

I wish the clashing rocks had crushed our bones,
Binding us close in death like mortared stones,
Or Scylla’s hounds had seized on us for prey –
She ought to treat ungrateful men that way –
Or that Charybdis had drawn on the waves
To drop us deep in those Sicilian graves.
But, safe in victory, you came home to Greece;
Your country’s gods received the Golden fleece.

And Pelias’ daughters – must then I retell
Their butchery of him they loved so well?
You must not blame me then, though others do;
I had no choice; these crimes were all for you.
And then you dared – words fail my injured heart –
You dared to say, “From Aeson’s house depart!”
I went as ordered, and our sons came too,
As did the love I ever bare for you.

At once we heard the wedding hymn ring out
And saw the torches flashing all about;
For you the flute made marriage harmony,
More mournful than a funeral dirge to me.
I trembled; still I could not bring my mind,
Though chilled with fear, to think you so unkind.
The crowd approaching sang the god’s refrain;
As they came nearer, stronger grew my pain.
My women wept – but did not let me see
Their tears; none wished to break such news to me.
I had no wish to be informed, it’s true,
And yet my heart grew sad as if I knew.
Then our young son, who longed to look outside,
Rushed gaily to the open door and cried,
“Come, mother! Father drives his team along
In golden robes, and leads the milling throng!”
I scratched my face, I ripped my robe apart,
I hammered blows on my defenseless heart.
I longed to burst through all the people there,
And snatch the garlands from her pretty hair,
Though mine was tattered and disheveled too,
I nearly cried, “He is mine!” and fought for you.

My father and my country now are pleased;
I have atoned – my brother is appeased.
I ‘ve lost my kingdom, home, and country too, –
All these were lost to me when I lost you.
Though raging bulls and snakes I have controlled,
One man in my embrace I could not hold.
With drugs and cunning I withheld the fire,
But cannot bear the heat of my desire.
My magic arts have left me impotent;
In me the power of Hecate is spent.
I loathe my days and nights of bitterness,
Denied the sleep that heals the heart’s distress.
I drugged the snake to sleep, but now I see
My arts affect all others, but not me.
I saved him for another’s warm embrace;
She has the prize, although I ran the race.

Perhaps, to prompt your silly wife to smile,
And feed her jealousy in proper style,
You will exaggerate my ugliness.
Well, let her mock my faults! Her happiness
On her proud, purple bed will quickly fly;
Soon she shall weep and burn – and more that I.
Sword, fire, and poison I can still procure:
Vengeance on all Medea’s foes is sure.


But if you can be touched by any pleas,
I’ll contradict my pride and offer these.
Now I implore, as once you did entreat,
And throw myself a suppliant at you feet –
Though you reject me, you cannot refuse
Our sons, whom this stepmother will abuse.
They are too much like you; I weep to see
These mirrors of their father facing me.
Now by the gods I beg and by the sun,
My grandfather, our sons, and all I have done:
Restore the love for which I gave my all,
Redeem your pledges, do not let me fall!
This is no summons to a bitter fight –
No man or bull or snake will try your might;
I ask you for yourself – a gift not new,
Since I became a mother twice by you.

Where is my dowry? You found every piece
Where you once ploughed to win the Golden Fleece.
The gleaming fleece as dowry I claim;
Though I might ask, you’d keep it just the same.
I saved your life and your companions’ too –
Can she confer more benefits on you?
That you can breathe, indulge your treachery,
And make this match – all this is due to me.
And therefore I will … no, I’ll not foretell
The penalty, since anger threatens well.
What I desire, I’ll do. I may regret it,
But trust a traitor, and you can’t forget it.
May God observe the plans that fill my soul,
As it pursues a more exalted goal!


ENDING by Euripides

Children, children, you have a city
and a home in which, when you have left me in my misery,
you will dwell forever deprived of a mother.
And I will go to another country, a refugee,
where I cannot delight in you or see you happy.
I will never adorn your nuptial bath and bride
and marriage bed, never hold up the wedding torch.
My own daring has wrecked my life.
Dear, dear children all my care for you has gone to waste!
What a waste the toils which wore me out,
when I endured the hard useless pangs of childbirth.
Truly once, grief–stricken though I am now, I had high hopes
in you, that you would care for me in my old age
and when I died, with your own hands you would tend me,
something we all hope for. But now it's all gone,
my sweet expectation. For without you
I will live a life of sorrow, agonizing for me.
And you, with those dear eyes of yours, will never again
look at your mother, when you have gone away to another life.
Why are your eyes staring at mine, children?
Why do you smile that very last smile?
What will I do? My heart is not in it,
women, when I look at the gleaming eyes of my children.
I could not do it. Goodbye my plans
of before. I shall take my children with me.
Why should I abuse them to wound their father,
and have twice as many woes myself?
I will not do it. Goodbye my plans.
But what is the matter with me? Do I want to be
a laughing stock, letting my enemies go unpunished?
These things must be endured. Damn my cowardice!
How could I let soft words into my heart?
[...]
Do not, oh my heart, do not do these things.
Let them alone, you miserable woman, spare your children.
Living there with me they will delight you.
No! By the avengers down in Hades!
There is no way that I will leave my children
to be abused by my enemies.
They must die. And since they must,
I who gave them birth will kill them.
The plan is underway and there is no escape.
The crown is on her head; dressed in the robes,
the royal bride is in her death throes; I am certain of it.
Now I shall set out upon a most sorrowful road
and I shall send them on one more sorrowful still.
I want to speak to my children. Dear children,
give your mother your right hand to kiss.
Oh dearest hand, dearest mouth,
and form and noble face of my children,
may you be happy, but there. Your father has ruined
everything here. Oh sweet embrace.
Oh soft skin and lovely breath of my children.
Go, go on. I am no longer able to look
at you. I am overcome by wrongs.

I understand what evil I am about to do
but my wrath is stronger even than my thoughts.
[...]