1445–46 / 1265 this staff, these fillets, these trappings / of prophecy Cassandra, in a gesture that must have shocked the original audience, strips herself of the insignias of the prophetic office conferred on her by Apollo, but which because of his curse have been only a mockery (1444 / 1264). Preparing to die, she has nothing more to fear from the god, and she now exacts her own form of payment (1449 / 1267) as she destroys and tramples the symbols of her vocation and her misery, addressing them as if they were living enemies. As with Agamemnon, so with Cassandra an act of sacrilege precedes her exit into the palace, but this one cast as a grand, if ineffectual, act of vengeance and self-assertion. The stage directions that we have added here are more than usually conjectural, but—unusual for Greek tragedy—something of the sort is necessary to make the action clear.
l454–55 / 1272 friends / turned enemies Cassandra’s own family and countrymen, who scorned her because of Apollo’s curse—but in vain, because her prophecies have proved true to their destruction.
1460 / 1277 not my father’s altar The primary reference is presumably to the death of Priam, who was killed by Achilles’ son Neoptolemus at the altar of Zeus where he had taken refuge as a suppliant during the sack of Troy. Might there also be a glance at the sacrifice of Iphgenia at another father’s altar? The image of sacrificial death at any rate links the two women’s fates.
1463 / 1279 Yet my death, too, will not go unavenged Cassandra’s final prophecy goes beyond her own death to foretell in specific terms the son’s murder of his mother that will avenge his father’s death—and her own. This prophecy will be fulfilled, of course, in Libation Bearers, but in saying that the deed will “put / a capstone on this killing of his kin” (1468–69 / 1283) she points toward the resolution only achieved in Eumenides.
1475 / 1290 I will dare to go Cassandra will hesitate twice before she finally, and resolutely, enters “the door of Hades.” She recoils in horror at the “stench of slaughter” (1494 / 1309) as she approaches the door and turns away once more to ask the Chorus to “be my witnesses” (1503 / 1371), perhaps a reflection of the requirement in Athenian law that deeds of violence can be brought to trial only if a cry of distress has been heard.
1483 / 1293–94 more calmly than a cow the god escorts It was part of sacrificial ideology that the animal to be slaughtered should go willingly to its death.
1490 / 1305 Alas for you, father, and for your high-born children This perfectly clear but disconnected phrase is oddly enigmatic. Does she ignore the Chorus, absorbed in her own troubled thoughts, or is this her answer to the Chorus members’ attempt to console her with the notion of a glorious death: What good has glory done them?
1518–33 / 1331–42 Choral interlude Rather than the full-fledged choral ode we would expect to separate the Cassandra scene from the news of Agamemnon’s death, Aeschylus gives the Chorus a brief interlude in marching anapests (see note on 48–123) in which they meditate on what they have learned from Cassandra about the fate of Agamemnon. The next episode begins with the murder itself, as the Chorus hears and responds to Agamemnon’s death cries.
1534–1813 / 1343–1577 Fifth episode After the startling death scene itself, Clytemnestra enters and the bodies of her victims are revealed. The Chorus’ shock at her boastful vaunts leads to an elaborate exchange that takes up the remainder of the episode from which a degree of mutual understanding appears to be emerging when it is cut short by the arrival of Aegisthus. See further Introduction, pp. 12–13.
1534–62 / 1343–71 Agamemnon’s death cries are heard from offstage, and assuming that the wooden scene building had newly been added to the theater (see further the note on 1–47 / 1–39), this may have come as a startling innovation. At any rate, there are no such voices from offstage in the earlier surviving dramas of Aeschylus. The Chorus responds with indecisive dithering that may seem comic or even embarrassing to many modern readers and spectators. Of course the Chorus cannot really stop the slaughter, nor can it very well stand silent, much less simply leave the orchestra. But neither was Aeschylus obliged to write such an extended scene of confusion and indecision. The effect should be considered in relation to the triumphant Clytemnestra who enters just as the Chorus has concluded that it can do nothing. The contrast suggests that he wanted to underline the triumph of a dominant, self-assured woman who emerges to boast of her deeds over the leaderless and demoralized men of Argos.
In any case, this is emphatically not naturalistic theater. It is worth noting that Agamemnon’s “cries” are complete and properly formed lines of verse, and the “debate” among the Elders is a symmetrical exchange of paired verses. After the initial call for discussion (1537–38 / 1348–49), which we have given to the Chorus Leader, there are twelve such pairs. The simplest explanation of this arrangement is the usual supposition that the Chorus numbered twelve (later in the century, it was certainly fifteen), and that each member spoke one pair of lines. This is by no means certain, however. For other possibilities, see Taplin, Stagecraft (see Introduction, footnote 7, 323–24).
1561 / 1370 All my votes go for this course This translates an enigmatic Greek phrase whose literal meaning seems to be, “I am filled from all sides to approve this.” The best available explanation seems to be that the last Elder sums up the impression he has got from the others by comparing himself to a voting urn that has been filled with votes for the course he recommends.
1563 / 1372 Clytemnestra appears in the midst of a tableau, with the bodies of Agamemnon and Cassandra. Several passages strongly suggest that Agamemnon is still enveloped in the “net” of robes that Clytemnestra describes (1575–76 / 1382–83; see 1715 / 1492 = 1745 / 1516, 1819 / 1580) and still in the bathtub in which he was killed (see 1717 / 1494 = 1747 / 1519, 1773–74 / 1539–40). The most likely way to stage this scene would have been to roll it out form the central door of the stage building on the ekkyklêma, a wheeled platform that could bring the entire tableau into full view of the audience. In 1571–72 / 1379, Clytemnestra says, “here I stand / here where I cut him down,” which suggests that the tableau is still to be thought of as inside the palace, but the precise location is not insisted on and will hardly have been in the forefront of the spectators’ minds. It is of course possible that the elements of the tableau were brought in by silent extras, although that would miss the effect of seeing the scene appear all at once with Clytemnestra looming over it. In any case, the tableau must be in place before Clytemnestra launches into her speech of triumph.
1563–95 / 1372–98 Clytemnestra’s first speech displays breathtaking daring and shocking perversion of religious and social norms; it is all the more horrifying for the ecstatic pleasure she takes in what she has accomplished. Her role as the sole killer of Agamemnon (emphasized again in the Aegisthus scene, 1886–88 / 1633–35 and 1897–1900 / 1643–46) is probably an innovation of Aeschylus. In the Odyssey 4, 524–37, Aegisthus is depicted as planning and executing the assassination, although elsewhere in the epic, Clytemnestra’s role as Aegisthus’ lover and helper is emphasized, and it is she who kills Cassandra (11, 405–39).
1579 / 1386 the third stroke fell For the perversion of the rite of the three libations and the inversion of its accepted meaning, see Introduction, pp. 30–32.
1584 / 1390 he drenched me in the dark red showering gore Clytemnestra perversely turns her blood-pollution into a symbol of rebirth by likening the blood spurting from Agamemnon’s wounds to a rain shower that Zeus, the weather god, sends to give new life to the fields in spring. This image powerfully conveys the elemental joy of her revenge, while its perversity reminds us that blood begets no new life, only more death.
1604–11 / 1407–11 The Chorus, horrified by Clytemnestra’s acts and words, responds in agitated lyrics. In this stanza, Chorus members suggest that Clytemnestra must be suffering the effects of poison, in the next (1630–35 / 1426–30), they claim to see symptoms of her madness. At the same time, each of these stanzas raises the beginning of an argument to which she mus
t respond. Here they say that her act will cause her to be driven from the city, in the next they remind her of the vengeance that awaits her. To each of these points she responds firmly, and in the calmer tones of spoken dialogue.
1625 / 1422 threaten me all you want Threatened with exile, Clytemnestra makes it clear that she will fight to retain her power.
1636 / 1431 hear my solemn oath Clytemnestra invokes a second, sinister triad that culminates with the Erinys (see Introduction, pp. 30–31) to swear that she is immune from fear so long as “the fire on my hearth is kindled / and kept bright by Aegisthus” (1641–42 / 1435–36). In so doing, she introduces the name of Aegisthus for the first time and assigns him the role of her legitimate consort and lord of the house.
1652 / 1444 like a swan Clytemnestra associates Cassandra with a bird sacred to Apollo, which, moreover, was believed to sing most beautifully when near death. This is the first mention in Greek literature of that belief, found memorably in Plato’s Phaedo 84E.
1655–812 / 1448–576 The episode ends with a long kommos (exchange between actor and Chorus in which sung verse is used by one or both parties). In this case, the Chorus expresses itself in sung lyric meters and Clytemnestra responds in chanted anapests. The choral lyrics add an extra stanza between each strophe and antistrophe. Some editors turn all three of these stanzas into refrains by repeating them after the the antistrophe, but we have followed the manuscript tradition by keeping the first and last as mesodes (“mid-odes,” so called because of their position in the midst of a strophic pair) and repeating only the second of the stanzas as a refrain.
1662–63 / 1453 who in a woman’s name / suffered so much The woman is Helen, and in the following stanza the Chorus says that she, who caused all the deaths at Troy, now has put on the “last, perfect garland” of victory in the death of Agamemnon by means of “blood not washed away” (1670–71 / 1459–60). The precise significance of these lines is elusive. Perhaps the Chorus refers to the sacrifice of Iphigenia, regarded as the means by which the events that Helen began came to pass, or perhaps to the unexpiated murders of Thyestes’ children. On the other hand, a precise reference is hardly necessary, since all the unavenged bloodshed of the house could be understood as the medium for Helen’s destructive work.
1681–82 / 1468–69 the two / heirs of Tantalus Agamemnon and Menelaus. Tantalus was their great-grandfather. See the Glossary for the story of his notorious transgression and punishment.
1692–93 / 1476–77 the triple-glutted / Spirit of this race Although compounds in tri-in Greek can have an intensive rather than numerical force, Clytemnestra’s vivid picture suggests that the spirit of the house has sated himself on blood through three generations. This “spirit” (daimôn) is the Erinys or curse that dwells within the house and ensures that each violent deed is requited with yet more violence. Clytemnestra had urged the Chorus members to think not only of Helen as the cause of all the grief they have endured (1675–79 / 1464–67), and she approves their invocation of the spirit of the house (1680 / 1468). Although they protest that she is praising “sheer evil / that fills its maw with misfortune” (1700–1 / 1483–4), they also recognize that all the spirit does has been willed by Zeus, the final cause of everything (1704–10 / 1487–88). Clytemnestra then urges them to see her not as Agamemnon’s wife but as “the old and / pitiless avenger of Atreus (1725–26 / 1501–2), an embodiment of the Spirit of the house. Although the Chorus seems no more reconciled than before to Clytemnestra’s deed, the terms in which it understands the act are beginning to change (see especially 1730–40 / 1505–12).
1751–52 / 1521–22 There’s nothing slavish, I think, in this / man’s death “Slavish” (aneleutheron, literally “unfree,” i.e., shameful or base) picks up the Chorus lament that Agamemnon died “on a slavish bed” (trapped and helpless in the bathtub). Clytemnestra argues that there is nothing shameful in a death that avenges an unjust death.
1798 / 1564 he who does will suffer The long exchange with Clytemnestra leads the Chorus to restate the central law of retributive justice. Responding to the Chorus’ outrage at the murder of its king, Clytemnestra has argued that Agamemnon suffered justly for what he did (1754–58 / 1525–57). “Charge answers charge” (1793 / 1560), but as the Chorus sees, there is no obvious end point to the cycle. Chorus members sense that a new “blade of justice” (1769 / 1535) is already being honed for Clytemnestra, but they take no pleasure in the continuation of the violence, for they know that unstopped it will lead only to ruin (1794–1800 / 1560–66).
1806 / 1571–72 If only he will go from the house Clytemnestra recognizes that the Chorus has “found a true prophecy,” and she tries to circumvent it by making a bargain with the Spirit of the house, an ironic echo of the “foresight” it recommended at 1152–6 / 1008–13. She offers to part with as much of her wealth as is necessary to seal the agreement (1809–13 / 1574–76). No such bargain can be struck, but it is remarkable how far Clytemnestra has come toward understanding the reality of her situation in the course of this kommos. There is no evidence that she regrets or repents the deed that she has taken such pains to defend—and whose part in the dialectic of retributive justice the Chorus has come to admit. But she has begun to recognize its larger meaning and its implications for her future and the future of her house.
1814–1934 / 1577–1673 Exodus The final scene of the play is not separated from the preceding episode by a choral ode, but the singing of the kommos that occupies the second half of the episode makes further choral lyrics superfluous. Furthermore, the sudden and unannounced entry of Aegisthus comes as a surprise. Although he had been alluded to earlier in the play, and finally named by Clytemnestra (1641 / 1436) as her partner in revenge and rule, his appearance lacks any preparation and is anomalous. From a formal point of view, it is unusual to have a new character (making exception for the deus ex machina, not found in Aeschylus) arrive on the scene at the very end of the play. (Aegisthus, in Sophocles’ Electra, is the only case that comes to mind, and his arrival is expected and prepared for.) From the perspective of the play’s inner movement Aegisthus’ entry disrupts what felt like a conclusion—not harmonious, certainly not final, but expressive of fundamental insights drawn from the action of the drama. The Aegisthus scene undoes all that, and prepares for the next stage of confrontation in Libation Bearers.
1814 / 1577 O kind light of the day of final justice Aegisthus’ speech begins with a triumphant claim of vengeance on Agamemnon for the crimes that his father, Atreus, committed against Aegisthus’ father, Thyestes, and his other children, which he describes in lurid detail, although with none of the harrowing intensity of Cassandra’s account. Aegisthus uses the word dikêphoros (“bringing justice”) applied to Zeus himself at 597 / 525.
1825 / 1585 who challenged his right to rule alone Unlike Casssandra (see 1364–66 / 1192–93), Aegisthus makes no allusion to Thyestes’ adultery as a cause of the dispute.
1864 / 1615 when justice is meted out A nice illustration of the symmetrical claims of retributive justice. To Aegisthus’ assertion that his plan to kill Agamemnon was inspired by justice (1852–57 / 1607–11), the Chorus replies that justice demands he be killed for that plan by public stoning.
1866–68 / 1617–18 The image comes from the trireme, a ship with three rows of oars, and plays on the poetic metaphor of the “ship of state,” well known from Greek archaic poetry.
1876 / 1625 You woman! Aegisthus, the “skulking lion” (1399 / 1224), is described as a womanish man, just as Cassandra is a mannish woman. He did not join the men at Troy, but betrayed Agamemon and plotted his death in the safety of Agamemnon’s own house. And when Agamemnon returned, he would not do the deed himself, but instead entrusted it to Clytemnestra (1888 / 1635, 1897–1900 / 1643–46).
1881 / 1629 The tongue of Orpheus Aegisthus can only answer with threats of violence. Here, with rather brittle irony, he contrasts the charm of Orpheus’ voice with the unpleasant “barking” of the Elders, and Orpheus’ gi
ft of leading of all who heard him with the Elders’ coming fate of being led to their punishment.
1891–92 / 1638–39 But with his wealth now I will try / to rule the citizens Aegisthus reverses Clytemnestra’s offer to part with her wealth (1809–13 / 1574–76), which he will use as a political tool for the control and suppression of his opponents. Aegisthus’ threats have led the Chorus to charge him with plotting to become tyrant (1886 / 1633). Although the Greek term tyrannos does not necessarily imply more than ruler (who is not in the royal line of succession), the remainder of the play makes it clear that what Aegisthus intends to institute is precisely the kind of repressive regime that we call tyranny.
1901 / 1646 does Orestes see the light The Chorus members’ thoughts turn to Orestes, the true heir of Agamemnon, whose fate they do not know. At 1928 / 1667 they say they will escape Aegisthus’ vengeance, “if the Spirit brings Orestes home.” Spirit (daimôn) might mean “fate” or “a divine power,” but in the context of its use in this play (most recently 1920 / 1660, and see note on 1692–93), it can only refer to the Spirit of the house, the Erinys who presides over retribution.