First published from 1953, but with some translations which had appeared in 1942 and even earlier, this series quickly established itself as one of the most popular versions of Greek tragedy in print. A second edition appeared in 1991, with revisions and in some cases new translations, and now this third edition seeks to update the series further with a more systematic revision, and four new translations: Medea by O. Taplin, The Children of Heracles by M. Griffith, Andromache by D. Roberts and Iphigenia among the Taurians by A. Carson. In addition there are new translations of the fragments of Aeschylus' plays which formed part of the tetralogies to which surviving plays belong and the substantial fragments of Sophocles' The Trackers have been translated by M. Griffith. The editors have preferred the translation of Antigone by E. Wyckoff printed in the first edition to that of D. Grene which appeared in the second edition.
The editors claim to have conducted the revision of the texts ‘carefully and tactfully to bring them up to date’. The guiding principles seem to be as follows.
First they set out to preserve the original texts as far as possible with changes only where English idiom has moved on, or a closer rendering of the Greek seemed desirable. Second, the order in which the plays are presented has been changed to reflect the chronological order of their production (as far as can be determined). The Oresteia thus appears in volume 2 of Aeschylus while the order of Euripides' plays means changes to the contents of four of the five volumes. The new table of contents is printed in the introduction to Euripides which appears at the beginning of each volume. Sophocles' plays have not been subjected to this chronological restructuring; the gravitational pull of Thebes was presumably too strong, although within the Theban volume Antigone now appears first and OC last. Third, there are some minor, but helpful editorial interventions: the brief scene directions have been revised, the lyric passages and anapaests are highlighted by italics, strophic structures of choral odes are indicated too, making the mode of delivery in the theatre immediately obvious on the page, although the translators generally make the distinction clear in their use of language and metre. Where significant textual problems occur readers are referred to ‘textual notes’ at the back of each volume which mostly give a brief indication of the nature of the difficulty and exceptionally offer something more substantial. When R. Fitzgerald translates the choral ode at Oedipus at Colonus 1044–73 into iambic pentameters in elegiac quatrains, a more literal version appears in the notes. The notes to Bacchae have some of W. Arrowsmith's earlier versions and some help in reconstructing the missing section of the play. A glossary is also provided in each of the volumes in the collected, but not in the selected volumes. This offers the sort of help that might have been presented in notes, but this format keeps the text free from intrusions: even the textual notes are indicated by a most discreet small circle.
The three volumes of the selected Greek Tragedies have kept the same plays in the same volumes. Here the plays have shorter introductions than in the complete set and these have been revised, although not always with the new edition in mind: the introduction to Prometheus Bound mentions the trilogy and the surviving fragments without reference to their inclusion in the new Aeschylus 1 immediately after the play or the discussion of the trilogy in the longer introduction there. Originally the translation of Prometheus Bound was mainly in prose, then in 1990 it was turned into verse except for the first scene which D. Grene thought sufficiently different in tone from the rest of the play that a distinction should be made. Now the scene appears in verse in conformity with the rest of the text. The updating has allowed much of the prose version to be incorporated into the verse, some improvements to be made and perhaps a little ‘political correctness’ to be introduced in the diction (‘human-loving’ for ‘man-loving’). Fortunately the famous οὐδὲν ἀνθρώπου δεινότερον (Antigone 332) is rendered ‘nothing is stranger than man’ in the same volume, although the translation ‘stranger’ only conveys one of the potential meanings here – a good example of the near impossibility of conveying all the nuances in play in tragic texts.
What follows is a sampling of the translations on offer, a selection of a few details to give an impression of what the editors have been doing and to convey some idea of the qualities of the texts. All four of the new translations are attractively written while remaining close to the Greek. This style does not strain after poetic effect, but strives for clarity of expression in idiomatic English unencumbered by cries of alas and other peculiarly Greek speech habits. This makes the series an attractive choice both for quick reading and more leisurely study. M. Griffith has replaced The Heracleidae of R. Gladstone with a lucid and attractive version. As both editor and contributor, he should set the tone and the three other new translations, while not slavishly tied to a formula, exhibit what might loosely described as the house style. A. Carson's Iphigenia among the Taurians replaces the version by W. Bynner which was initially written for Isadora Duncan and published in 1915, though it never made it onto the stage on account of the New York fire regulations! Bynner updated his translation with the help of Lattimore for the first edition, but it is immediately apparent that Carson's new version is more suitable for the twenty-first century: Bynner's opening sentence is five lines long while Carson uses four sentences. Her crisp delivery of the basic information is also closer to the Greek in meaning (‘came ... on swift horses’ replaces ‘by maiming a chariot’). Carson's translation is easy to read, the meaning expressed with clarity in contemporary idiom, although she could not resist turning ὦ κασίγνητον κάρα (983) into ‘O dear sister's head’, an idiom more suitable for Housman's Fragment of a Greek Tragedy than her text. The chorus is given short lines of free verse which is conditioned by the phraseology and exploits the rhythms of speech to produce a text which is about as clear and direct as a Greek choral ode can be. Take lines 1143–51 for example:
This strategy for translating the odes is employed by other translators too. O. Taplin's Medea is easy to read with good idiomatic expressions which capture the meaning of the Greek neatly: for example, the seemingly abrupt ‘know that’ becomes ‘I'll tell you’ (600) or ‘let me make clear’ (593). Occasionally he allows expressions which seem close to the wrong register, as when Medea threatens to make ‘dead meat’ of her enemies (374). The ‘penny’ at line 617 might be intrusive, but it does actually seem natural in the expression ‘I will not accept a penny’. The choral odes are treated differently from the dialogue, employing short lines like Carson but with some use of rhyme, and again expressing the sense with admirable clarity. The speeches robustly carry the force of the arguments and also are not without characterisation, as when Jason smugly claims ‘Not bad, my long-term planning?’ (567). This is a significant improvement on R. Warner's version in the first edition (‘Do you think this a bad plan’). Both translators are alert to the significant echo of plan/planning in Medea's response when she refers to ‘your plans’ (886) or Warner's ‘these plans of yours’. Taplin's Medea with its vigorous use of language makes a significant contribution to the series, especially as Medea is a key play.
D. Roberts has likewise translated Andromache into crisp, idiomatic English. Aphorisms are clipped: ‘strength doesn't help a coward’ (765, contrast ‘What's the point of rippling muscles if you're a coward’, J. Davie, Electra and Other Plays [1998]). Stichomythia and speeches are also bold and direct. In the anti-Spartan speech, her rhetorical questions keep the thrust of the original (450–4):
Occasionally conciseness might not convey the meaning with absolute clarity. The Chorus sing at line 766 ‘Either no life, or one with noble ancestors/who belong to a wealthy house’, but the omission of the optative leaves one momentarily puzzled.
The updating by the editors has made the older versions more accessible, although there will undoubtedly be some who think a more thorough revision is called for. Yet with a series being in print for so long, translations become almost as venerable as the originals (if a little hyperbole can be excused) and a conservative approach to revision thus becomes inevitable. Here are a few lines (Antigone 712–7, which have some affinity with Aesop) to illustrate the process of updating the translation:
Wyckoff 1953:
Grene 1991:
Wycoff 2013 (updates in italics):
Minor as the changes might seem, there are gains made in this final revision. The torrent gets the epithet it deserves (ῥείθροισι χειμάρροις), ‘ropes’ replace the technical term ‘sheet’ which might be little known by landlubbers, although Grene's explanatory ‘of his sail’ makes it pretty clear. The intransitive use of ‘bend’ is preferable to the archaic sounding ‘bend them’. ‘Limbs and leaves’ combines both previous versions (with added metaphor), but still does not capture the Greek (κλῶνας). Perhaps ‘twigs’ was felt to be infra dig. for tragedy and ‘leaves’ a good substitute for the trees' fragile parts. But a leafless tree suits a winter torrent better. The repetition of ὑπείκει for both types of yielding is picked up immediately afterwards when Haemon tells Creon directly to yield (εἶκε). Preserving this would have enhanced the persuasiveness of Haemon's parallels. Interesting examples of the editors' work can be found in Lattimore's Agamemnon. Some of the improvements are minor: ‘cheap bronze tortured at the touchstone’ (Agamemnon 389–90 first edition) has become ‘worthless bronze rubbed at the touchstone’ and ‘my unbelief’ (ibid. 268) is much improved as ‘my doubting mind’. But there are occasionally more notable gains. For example, at Agamemnon 218 where the earlier editions had, ‘but when necessity's yoke was put upon him’ for ἐπεὶ δ' ἀνάγκας ἔδυ λέπαδνον, now Lattimore's version renders the verse, ‘but when he put on necessity's yoke’ and the whole significance of the line is changed with Agamemnon's willing acquiescence to necessity.
R. Lattimore is highly regarded as a translator. His lyrics were recently called ‘chiseled monumental lines’ by P. Woodruff (in J. Gregory, A Companion to Greek Tragedy [2005], p. 503) and his versions of Greek verse have been, and still are, widely used by those teaching Greek literature in translation courses. His versions of Euripides' Alcestis, Helen and The Trojan Women are written with a close attention to the Greek and in expressive English. For example, at The Trojan Women, lines 353–8, although there has been some compression (e.g. 354 omitted, ‘if she falters’ added), the style survives.
‘Star my hair’ is a striking expression where garlands, wreaths or crowns might have featured. ‘This is a king I marry; then be glad’ is a much more emphatic than the plain ‘rejoice at my royal wedding’, while ‘more fatal’ looks forward to the next line (‘I'll kill him’) and is far more effective than literal options such as ‘more disagreeable’. Strong and engaging though his style can be, his work is not without its quirks. When translating Aeschylus, Lattimore has a propensity to juggle noun phrases into the more unusual expression. A simple example can be found at Agamemnon 587 where ἄγγελος πυρός becomes ‘beacon flare of message’. Similar expressions crop up with some regularity (‘worth of weaving’ for ‘rich textiles’, ‘prelude strung to length of words’ for ‘long prelude’, ‘news of fear’ for ‘malignant rumours’). This straining after poetic diction produces some other infelicitous expressions which might have attracted the revisers' attention. Take Agamemnon 305–6 where Lattimore's ‘Kindled once more with stintless heaping force, they send/the beard of flame to hugeness’ which literally rendered as ‘lighting up with ungrudging effort a big beard of fire’ might be rather less exciting, but does not culminate in an abstract noun of rather bathetic effect. Bathos is scarcely avoided in 525–6 where Raeburn and Thomas (The Agamemnon of Aeschlus [2011]) translate ‘who has dug Troy into the ground with the fork of justice-bearing Zeus’ and Lattimore ‘the man who has wrecked Ilium with the spade of Zeus/vindictive’. The verb (κατασκάπτω) should be rendered in a way appropriate to its literal meaning and relationship to the agricultural implement. The spade of Zeus without the full metaphor is unfortunately reminiscent of Aristophanes' Δίος δωμάτιον (Frogs 100).
Another revered scholar-poet, W. Arrowsmith, has contributed translations of Hecuba, Heracles and Orestes. These can be impressionistic, or at least not too literal, especially in the choral odes. For example Orestes 819–22:
While the basic meaning is well conveyed, there is a tendency to elaborate with the addition of words like ‘soft’, ‘warm’ or ‘immaculate’ and the use of pleonastic expressions: ‘slashed’ and ‘stabbing’, ‘staining’ and ‘defiling’. Other translators in this collection would undoubtedly have expressed these lines rather differently. Translators have their own styles and uniformity can only be achieved in the broadest sense. The revisions and new translations seem to indicate that a house style is developing in a reasonably consistent direction. It may be thought desirable to give each of the ancient dramatists a distinctive English voice. Certainly some of each author's distinctive manner is conveyed by the translators, but with so many different hands at work it is hard, if not impossible, to make consistent stylistic distinctions between the three dramatists. Besides, there is a danger that such an exercise would result in a mere pastiche, reproducing the features which Aristophanes so cleverly and at times mercilessly exploits to comic effect. While the focus is on keeping these translations in clear contemporary language, they should continue to provide useful texts for the academic market and attractive versions for that elusive general reader. The old bottles have been replenished and a rather tasty vintage is now offered to Dionysus and his worshippers. Nunc est bibendum!