_Re-enter Clytaemnestra to fetch Cassandra_. _Clyt._ addresses Cassandra
in moderate tone, bidding her adapt herself to her new life and yield to
those who wish to soften her captivity. [_Cassandra pays no attention
and seems gazing into vacancy._] The Chorus endorses Clytaemnestra's
advice. At length it occurs to Clytaemnestra that Cassandra cannot speak
Greek, and she bids her give some sign. [_No sign, but a shudder
convulses her frame._] Thinking she is obstinate Clytaemnestra will wait
no longer [_exit Clyt. into Palace to the sacrifice_]. The Chorus renew
their advice to Cassandra: _She at length leaves the chariot and suddenly
bursts into a cry of horror_. {1038}
Then follows, marking the crisis of the drama, a burst of lyrical
excitement. The dialogue between Chorus and Cassandra falls into lyrical
strophes and antistrophes: Cassandra, by her prophetic gift, can see all
that is going on and about to be consummated within the Palace. Her
wailings reproach her patron and lover Apollo, who has conducted her to a
house of blood; she sees the past murders that have stained the house,
she sees the preparations for the present deed, the bath, the net, the
axe; then her wailings wax yet wilder as she sees that she herself is to
be included in the sacrifice. Meantime her excitement gradually passes
over to the Chorus: at first they have mistaken her cries for the
ordinary lamentations of captives (and borne their part in the dialogue
in the ordinary 'blank verse'); then their emotions are roused (and their
speech falls into lyrics) as they recognize the old woes of the family
history and remember Cassandra's prophetic fame; as she passes to the
deed going on at the moment they feel a thrill of horror, but only half
understand and take her words for prophecy of _distant_ events, which
they connect with their own forebodings; thus in her struggles to get her
words believed Cassandra becomes more and more graphic in her notices of
the scene her mental eye is seeing, and the excitement crescendoes until:
{1148}
As if the crisis were now determined the dialogue settles down into
'blank verse' again. _Cassandra ascends from Orchestra to Stage_. She
will no longer speak veiled prophecy: it shall flow clear as wave against
the sunlight. She begins with the Furies that never quit the house since
that primal woe that defiled it--as she describes this the _Chorus_
wonder an alien can know the house's history so well--_Cassandra_ lets
them know of her amour with Apollo, and how she gained the gift of
prophecy and then deceived the God and was doomed to have her prophecies
scorned.--Continuing her vision she points to the phantom children,
'their palms filled full with meat of their own flesh,' sitting on the
house: in revenge for that deed another crime is this moment about to
stain further the polluted dwelling, a brave hero falling at the hands of
a coward, and by a plot his monster of a wife has contrived.--The
_Chorus_ still perplexed, _Cassandra_ NAMES Agamemnon, the Chorus
essaying vainly to stop the ill-fated utterance.--Then _Cassandra_ goes
on to describe how she herself must be sacrificed with her new lord, a
victim to the jealous murderess; bitterly reproaching Apollo, she strips
from her the symbols and garb of her prophetic art, which the god has
made so bitter to her, and moves to the 'butcher's block,' foretelling
how the Son shall come as his father's avenger and hers.--The _Chorus_
ask, why go to meet your fate instead of escaping? _Cassandra_ knows
Fate is inevitable.--Again and again she shrinks back from the door,
'tainted with the scent of death;' then gazing for the last time on the
loved rays of the Sun, and invoking him as witness and avenger, she
abandons herself to her doom.
Ah, life of man! when most it prospereth, {1298}
It is but limned in outline; and when brought
To low estate, then doth the sponge, full soaked,
Wipe out the picture with its frequent touch.
[_Passes through the Central Door into Palace._]
_The Chorus_ (_in lyrical rhythm_). It is true good fortune can never be
fended from the visitation of evil, which no strong palace can bar out.
What will it avail Agamemnon to have taken Troy and come in honor home,
if it be really his destiny to pay the penalty of that old deed of
bloodguiltiness? {1313}
(_Here a loud cry is heard from within the Palace._)
The Chorus recognize the voice of the King, and fear the deed is
accomplished. In extreme excitement the Chorus break up, and each
member, one after another, suggests what is to be done; at last they
compose their ranks to learn what has actually occurred. {1342}
_Suddenly, by the machinery of the Roller-stage [Eccyclema], the interior
of the Palace is moved to the front of the Stage, and discovers
Clytaemnestra in blood-stained robes, standing with attendants by the
corpses of Agamemnon and Cassandra, the former lying in a silvered bath
covered with a net._
_Clytaemnestra_, in an elaborate speech, glories in her deed. Deceit was
necessary in dealing with foes: now standing where she did the deed, she
glories in it: glories in the net in which she entangled and rendered him
powerless, in the blows, one, two, three, like a libation, which she
struck, glories in the gush of death-blood which has bespattered her. A
late triumph: he had come home to drain the goblet of curses his old deed
had been long heaping up. After an interruption of astonishment from the
_Foreman_, she repeats: it is the handiwork of my artist hand. After the
_Chorus_ have recovered from their astonishment they (_in a lyrical
burst_) denounce her: her confession is the incense on the Victim's head,
she shall feel the people's strong hate, and have an exile's
doom.--_Clyt._ (_calmly in Blank Verse_): they denounced no such exile
against Agamemnon when he sacrificed her daughter, the first of her
travail pangs. Besides, are they sure they are the stronger? Perchance,
though old, they may yet have to learn.--_Chorus_ (_in a similar lyrical
burst_): she is now maddened with the spirit of vengeance, but she will
one day find a nemesis, blow for blow. _Clyt._ solemnly (_in Blank
Verse_) swears by the deed she has done, and the curse for which she did
it, she has no fear of Nemesis, as lone as Aegisthus is her shield.
Meanwhile, there they lie: the wife-wronger and his mistress. {1377}
Then follows an elaborate lyrical scene: the _Chorus_ giving vent to
their excitement in _Strophes and Antistrophes irregularly succeeding one
another_, _Clytaemnestra_ occasionally joining in. O for death, sudden
and without lingering, now that our beloved Protector is gone! Ah!
Helen! one more deed of woe to your account!--_Clyt._ No need to wish for
death or upbraid Helen.--_Cho._ (_interrupting_) O dread Power that dost
attack this household, working even through women deeds of
dread!--_Clyt._ Now thou art right: it is the Evil Genius of the House
that feeds in their hearts the lust of blood; bringing fresh blood-guilt
ere the old is healed.--_Cho._ Yes, there is a Power wrathful to the
House; but it must be through Zeus he works; what amongst mortal men is
wrought apart from Zeus?
Ah me! Ah me! {1467}
My king, my king, how shall I weep for thee?
What shall I speak from heart that truly loves?
And now thou liest there, breathing out thy life,
In impious deed of death,
In this fell spider's web!
Yes woe is me! woe, woe!
Woe for this couch of thine unhonorable!
Slain by a subtle death
With sword two-edged, which her right hand did wield.
_Clyt._ You speak of me as the doer: it was the Avenger of the seed of
Atreus who did the deed in the semblance of this dead man's wife.--_Cho._
None will hold thee guiltless of the deed; yet, perchance, thou mayest
have had as helper the avenging Fiend of that ancestral time; he presses
on this rush of murders of near kin.
Ah me! Ah me!
My king, my king, how shall I weep for thee?
What shall I speak from heart that truly loves?
And now thou liest there, breathing out thy life,
In impious deed of death,
In this fell spider's web!
Yes woe is me! woe, woe!
Woe for this couch of thine unhonorable!
Slain by a subtle death
With sword two-edged, which her right hand did wield.
_Clyt._ This deed brings no dishonor to me: he slew my daughter and his
own, wept over with many a tear; now slain in recompense he is gone to
Hell with nothing to boast over.--_Cho._ Whither escape from this House?
No longer drops, but fierce pelting storm of blood shakes it to its
basement.--_Cho._ Oh that earth had received me ere I saw this sad sight!
Who will perform funeral rites and chant the dirge? Wilt thou who hast
slain dare to mourn him?--_Clyt._ It is no care of thine: we will give
him burial; and for mourning--perhaps Iphigenia will greet him kindly by
the dark streams below.--_Cho._ Hard it is to judge; the hand of Zeus is
in all this; ever throughout this household we see the fixed law, the
spoiler still is spoiled. Who will drive out from this royal house this
brood of curses dark?--_Clyt._ Thou art right; but here let the demon
rest content; suffice it for me that my hand has freed the house from the
madness that sets each man's hand against each. [Observe: in this last
infatuated confidence and throughout Clytaemnestra's exultation in the
deed the dramatist is laying the foundation for the second play of the
Trilogy.] {1534}
_Enter Aegisthus by one of the two Inferior doors in front of the scene
[representing the inferior parts of the Palace in which he has been
concealed since the return of Agamemnon]._
_Aegisthus_ salutes the happy day of vengeance which shows him Agamemnon
paying penalty for the deeds of his father: he relates the quarrel
between this father Atreus and his own father Thyestes, how when the one
brother came as suppliant to the other Atreus spread before him the
horrid banquet of his own child's flesh, at the knowledge of which he
died. Aegisthus himself had suffered banishment at the hands of Atreus
while yet a child, and now has returned full grown to work vengeance on
the son of his wronger, to see the long contrived nemesis brought to full
conclusion.--_Chorus_ note that he confesses the deed, and he shall not
escape the righteous curse a people hurls with stones.--_Aeg._ Know your
place: you are oarsmen, we command the ship; prison and fasting are
admirable devices for helping old people to keep their tempers within
bounds. Defiances are interchanged: the _Chorus_ taunting him that he
had to get a woman to do the deed he dared not do himself,--_Aeg._
contemptuously says the working out of the fraud was the proper province
of a woman, especially as he was a known foe.--The Chorus threaten
vengeance and suggest the name ORESTES as avenger: At this Clytaemnestra
starts, _Aegisthus_ enraged gives the signal at which {1626}
_Bodyguard of Aegisthus pour in through both the Inferior doors on either
side of the Central door of the Palace, and fill the stage [thus
producing one of the Scenic Tableaux of which Aeschylus was fond]. The
Chorus, though of course outnumbered, are nothing daunted, as
representing the legitimate authority of the State now Agamemnon is dead,
and therefore sure to be backed by the City; they make as if to ascend
the stage._
Contest in blows between Chorus and Bodyguard of Aegisthus appears
inevitable, but Clytaemnestra throws herself between them, urges that
enough ill has already been done, and after further defiances, forces
Aegisthus away and play abruptly terminates: _the Chorus returning to the
Right into the City, and the Bodyguard into the Palace_.
[1] This is a mere guess: we have no information as to how the evolutions
of a Proem differed from those of a regular Choral Ode.
[2] The Chorus generally speak of themselves in the Singular.
[3] This is simply an English pun substituted for a Greek one: the name
Helen resembles a Greek root which signifies captivity.