INTRODUCTION.
The best gate to the Antigone is through King Œdipus, an earlier chapter in the story.
This drama opens in front of the palace in Thebes. Suppliants in white tunics and cloaks have laid olive branches with fillets of wool on the altars. The doors of the palace open and Œdipus appears. He asks his dear children, as he calls them, the meaning of their attitude, the frankincense that fills the city, the solemn chants and frequent cries of dole. The priest answers for them: Heaven itself frowns upon the land; the city tosseth sore and cannot her head upheave; a curse is on her—the pasturing kine, the fruit of earth, the childless mother-pangs of women, and the abominable pestilence harrieth Thebes, while black Hades is glutted rich with wails and groans. Their king upreared their life from out the dust of death, when aforetime the dire sphinx exacted tribute, and now they entreat him to find some remedy, some refuge for them once again. But Œdipus has already divined their yearnings; he knows they ail, but none whose ailment equals his: his soul groans for state, for self, for all. He has wept long and has gone many roads in devious wanderings of thought; and the sole remedy he could find after diligent survey has already been applied: his own wife’s brother has been despatched in post to sacred Delphi, Apollo’s temple, to learn by what deed or word he might deliver the state. And now Œdipus is growing anxious; beyond all likelihood the son of Menoiceus stays; but when Apollo’s answer comes, he will leave nothing undone of all things whatsoever they be, that
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