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Exeunt Orestes and Pylades, forcing Clytaemnestra through the Central Door, their attendants remaining to guard the door. Chorus, after a word of pity for even this 'twain mischance,' break into

CHORAL INTERLUDE III

in three interwoven Strophes and Antistrophes.

Late came vengeance on Troy, late now has it blest this heaven-sent exile, and our Master's house is freed. On a lover of the war of guile has Revenge come subtle-souled, Vengeance who

 
              Is guileful without guile,
          Halting of foot and tarrying over-long;
          The will of Gods is strangely over-ruled,
              It may not help the vile.
 

At last we see the light. All-working Time with cleansing rites will purify the house; Fortune's throws shall fall with gladsome cast: at last we see the light. {959}

EXODUS, OR FINALE

Enter from Main Door Orestes and Pylades, their Attendants bearing the Corpses, and the net in which Agamemnon had been murdered.

Orestes solemnly declares that they have perished as murderers; they swore to live and die together and they have kept the oath. He bids the Attendants stretch out in full light of the Sun, the great Purifier, the fatal net, as pledge that he did his dread deed only as deed of necessary vengeance – he dwells on the cruel device – but Chorus seeing side by side the net and the slaughter by which it has been avenged, can think of nothing but the woe which its avenger by his deed of vengeance must bring on himself. Orestes reiterates the crime of which this deed is the reminder. The Chorus cannot help repeating the unhappy omen. {1009}

At this very moment Orestes changes and begins to feel the oncoming madness – while reason yet stays with him he repeats his innocence and puts on the suppliant's fillet, with which he will go to Delphi, and challenge the God who sent him on the errand to free him from its dire consequences. Madness increases, and he can see the Furies in bodily shape dark-robed, and all their long tresses entwined with serpents. In rapid dialogue the Chorus bid him cling to the idea of Apollo, and he bursts away through Distance-Door on Left to commence his long career of wanderings. The Chorus conclude:

 
          Here, then, upon this palace of our kings
              A third storm blows again;
          The blast that haunts the race has run its course.
          First came the wretched meal of children's flesh;
              Next what befel our king:
          Slain in the bath was he who ruled our host,
              Of all the Achaeans lord;
          And now a third has come, we know not whence,
          To save.. or shall I say,
            To work a doom of death?
          Where will it end? Where will it cease at last,
              The mighty Atè dread,
              Lulled into slumber deep?
 

THIRD PLAY: AFTERNOON:
THE GENTLE GODDESSES
EUMENIDES4

The Scene represents the Oracle of Delphi: the Central Doors being the Gate of the 'Adytum,' or Innermost shrine. From the left Inferior Door enter the Priestess of the Oracle, who stands in front of the Central Gate, to offer the Morning Prayer.

PROLOGUE

The Priestess's Prayer enumerates the Deities who have connection with the Ancient Oracle, how Apollo is its main guardian, after it has passed through many hands; other Deities have a share in it, even Zeus the Supreme Accomplisher. Praying that her divinations that day may excel even her past, she calls on the Pilgrims to come as the lot permits. {28}

Exit through the Main Gate into the Inner Shrine. In a moment she returns, pale and disordered, flinging open the Central Gates, through which can dimly be discerned dreadful forms in the Inner Shrine.

She can hardly stand for the terror of the sight she has seen; the sacred shrine polluted by the presence of a man in suppliant garb, bunch of olives and tufts of wool, his sword yet reeking with a recent murder; and sitting round about him yet more dreaded beings.

 
                    A troop {46}
          Of women strange to look at sleepeth there
          Before this wanderer, seated on their stools;
          Not women they, but Gorgons I must call them;
          Nor yet can I to Gorgon forms compare them;
          I have seen painted shapes that bear away
          The feast of Phineus. Wingless, though, are these,
          And swarth, and every way abominable.
          They snort with breath that none may dare approach,
          And from their eyes a loathsome humour pours,
          And such their garb as neither to the shrine
          Of Gods is meet to bring, nor mortal roof.
          Ne'er have I seen a race that owns this tribe,
          Nor is there land can boast it rears such brood,
          Unhurt and free from sorrow for its pains.
          Henceforth, be it the lot of Loxias,
          Our mighty lord, himself to deal with them:
          True prophet-healer he, and portent-seer,
          And for all others cleanser of their homes. {63}
 

At her word, in the entrance of the Inner Shrine appears Apollo with Hermes, and they lead Orestes out.

Apollo will never fail his suppliant; it is he who has sent sleep on these loathly Beings, born out of evils, with whom neither Gods nor men hold intercourse. They will still pursue, but he must fly to the ancient City of Pallas and clasp her statue; there 'judges of these things' and 'a means' will be found to rid him of his evils. Orestes expresses confidence in Apollo's justice, who reiterates his pledge in the name of Zeus and commits the wanderer to the charge of his own brother Hermes, the Escort-God, to take him safe to Athens. {93}

Apollo disappears into his shrine, and Hermes and Orestes leave by the Left side or Distance-door. The stage being thus left vacant, the machinery of the roller-stage brings the interior of the cave to the front, showing the sleeping Furies scattered over the floor. The Ghost of Clytaemnestra rises in front of the entrance to the Inner Shrine.

Clytaem. What ho! Sleep on! What need of sleepers now?

 
              And I am put by you to foul disgrace
              Among the other dead, nor fails reproach
              Among the shades that I a murderess am;
              And so in shame I wander, and I tell you
              That at their hands I bear worst forms of blame.
              And much as I have borne from nearest kin, {100}
              Yet not one god is stirred to wrath for me,
              Though done to death by matricidal hands.
              See ye these heart-wounds, whence and how they came?
              Yea, when it sleeps, the mind is bright with eyes;
              But in the day it is man's lot to lack
              All true discernment. Many a gift of mine
              Have ye lapped up, libations pure from wine,
              And soothing rites that shut out drunken mirth;
              And I dread banquets of the night would offer
              On altar-hearth, at hour no god might share.
              And lo! all this is trampled under foot.
              He is escaped, and flees, like fawn, away,
              And even from the midst of all your toils
              Has nimbly slipped, and draws wide mouth at you.
              Hear ye; for I have spoken for my life;
              Give heed, ye dark, earth-dwelling goddesses,
              I, Clytaemnestra's phantom, call on you.
                            [The Erinnyes moan in their sleep.]
              Moan on, the man is gone, and flees far off;
              My kindred find protectors; I find none.
                            [Moan as before.]
              Too sleep-oppressed art thou, nor pitiest me:
              Orestes, murderer of his mother, 'scapes.
                            [Noises repeated.]
              Dost snort? Dost drowse? Wilt thou not rise and speed?
              What have ye ever done but work out ill?
                            [Noises as before.]
              Yea, sleep and toil, supreme conspirators,
              Have withered up the dreaded dragon's strength.
 

Chorus of Furies, starting up suddenly with a yell.

 
                            Seize him, {125}
              Seize, seize, yea, seize: look well to it.
Clytaem. Thou, phantom-like, dost hunt thy prey and criest,
              Like hound that never rests from care of toil.
              What dost thou? (To one Erinnys.) Rise and let
                            not toil o'ercome thee,
              Nor, lulled to sleep, lose all thy sense of loss.
              Let thy soul (to another) feel the pain of just reproach:
              The wise of heart find that their goad and spur.
              And thou (to a third) breathe on him with thy
                            blood-flecked breath,
              And with thy vapour, thy maw's fire, consume him;
              Chase him, and wither with a fresh pursuit.
 
 
Leader of the Chor. Wake, wake, I say; wake her, as I wake thee.
              Dost slumber? Rise, I say, and shake off sleep.
              Let's see if this our prelude be in vain. {134}
 

The Furies start up and (still on the roller-stage) perform a Fury Dance for Prelude in three short Strophes and Antistrophes.

Our prey is gone! Apollo, ever known as a robber-god, has now delivered a matricide from his due doom. Even in my dreams a feeling of reproach stung me as a whip. Such are the doings of these 'younger gods.' See Earth's Central Shrine is stained with blood, and Apollo has taken sides with a mortal against a god; but though the god may vex them, the culprit shall not escape. {169}

Apollo, re-appearing from the Inner Shrine, threatens the Furies with his bow. He bids them leave his sacred precincts and seek scenes more fitted to them.

 
          There where heads upon the scaffold lie,
          And eyes are gouged and throats of men are cut,
          Where men are maimed and stoned to death, and groan
          With bitter wailing 'neath the spine impaled.
 

A stichomuthic contest ensues; the Furies reproach Apollo with taking the part of a matricide. He urges she had first slain her husband – they retort that husband is not kin, to which Apollo pleads the sanctity of the marriage tie; this authorized by the great example of Zeus and Hera, with its special patroness Cypris, this "assigned by Fate and guided by the Right is more than any oath." Neither party will give way; Apollo appeals to Pallas as Umpire, the Furies declare they will never desist from the pursuit. {225}

CHANGE OF SCENE

By the turning of the periacti and other mechanical changes the scene is shifted to the familiar Acropolis of Athens itself, the open Central Doors being arranged to represent the Porch of the Temple of 'Athene, Guardian of the City.' Enter by Distance side-door Orestes, who advances to the Centre and clasps the Statue of Pallas. {226}

Orestes has come as suppliant, but no longer with the stain of blood on his hands; that during his long wanderings has been by due rites washed away.

Suddenly by the same door the Furies enter upon the Stage, their faces to the ground and tracking Orestes' steps. {235}

Chorus of Furies: they have been long off the track, at last the 'dumb informer' is clear again, already they catch the loved scent of blood. – There he is clasping in confidence the statue of the Goddess, but watch, he escapes not: no trial, as he hopes, for the matricide; his own blood they must suck from his living members, and when they have had their fill of this drink undrinkable they will drag him down alive to bear the fate of a matricide. Orestes not yet perceiving them continues his prayer: long experience has taught him the various cleansing rites, and they have all been paid; he has dwelt amongst men and no impurity has been brought on them; this and all-cleansing Time show that the stain of matricide is removed, and with pure hands he can clasp Athene, queen of this land, and pledge the Argive alliance for her City [one of the political hits of the piece] if she will befriend him. The Furies suddenly spring up: Not Apollo nor Athene can save thee from thy doom! Orestes clings convulsively to the Statue. Thou resistest? then feel our spell! {296}

Chanting in marching rhythm they rapidly descend the Orchestra staircase, form about the Altar and then proceed to

CHORAL SPELL (FOR ENTRY ODE)

in four Strophes and Antistrophes.

Strophe I

 
          O Mother who didst bear me, mother Night,
          A terror of the living and the dead,
              Hear me, oh hear!
          The son of Leto puts me to disgrace
              And robs me of my spoil,
          This crouching victim for a Mother's blood:
              And over him as slain,
          We raise this chant of madness, frenzy-working,
              The hymn the Erinnyes love,
          A spell upon the soul, a lyreless strain
              That withers up men's strength.
 

Antistrophe I

 
          This lot the all-pervading destiny
          Hath spun to hold its ground for evermore,
              That we should still attend
          On him on whom there rests the guilt of blood
              Of kin, shed causelessly,
          Till earth lie o'er him; nor shall death set free.
              And over him as slain,
          We raise this chant of madness, frenzy-working,
              The hymn the Erinnyes love,
          A spell upon the soul, a lyreless strain,
              That withers up men's strength. {328}
 

Strophe II

 
          Such lot was then assigned us at our birth:
          From us the Undying Ones must hold aloof:
              Nor is there one who shares
              The banquet-meal with us;
          In garments white I have nor part nor lot;
          My choice was made for overthrow of homes,
          Where home-bred slaughter works a loved one's death:
              Ha! hunting after him,
              Strong though he be, 'tis ours
          To wear the newness of his young blood down.
 

Antistrophe II

 
          Since 'tis our work another's task to take,
          The Gods indeed may bar the force of prayers
              Men offer unto me,
              But may not clash in strife;
          For Zeus doth cast us from his fellowship,
          "Blood-dropping, worthy of his utmost hate."
          For leaping down as from the topmost height,
              I on my victim bring
              The crushing force of feet,
          Limbs that o'erthrow e'en those that swiftly run,
              An Atè hard to bear. {350}
 

Strophe III

 
          And fame of men, though very lofty now
              Beneath the clear, bright sky,
          Below the earth grows dim and fades away
          Before the attack of us, the black-robed ones,
              And these our dancings wild,
              Which all men loathe and hate.
 

Antistrophe III

 
          Falling in frenzied guilt, he knows it not;
              So thick the blinding cloud
          That o'er him floats; and Rumour widely spread
          With many a sigh reports the dreary doom,
              A mist that o'er the house
              In gathering darkness broods. {358}
 

Strophe IV

 
          Fixed is the law, no lack of means find we;
              We work out all our will,
          We, the dread Powers, the registrars of crime,
              Whom mortals fail to soothe,
          Fulfilling tasks dishonoured, unrevered,
              Apart from all the Gods,
              In foul and sunless gloom,
          Driving o'er rough steep road both those that see,
              And those whose eyes are dark.
 

Antistrophe IV

 
          What mortal man then doth not bow in awe
              And fear before all this,
          Hearing from me the destined ordinance
              Assigned me by the Gods?
          This task of mine is one of ancient days;
              Nor meet I here with scorn,
              Though 'neath the earth I dwell,
          And live there in the darkness thick and dense,
              Where never sunbeam falls. {374}
 
EPISODE I

Enter in her Chariot [along the balcony of the permanent scene] Athene.

Athene has heard far off Orestes' cry, and has come in her swift chariot. What is this strange presence in her own city, and who is this suppliant? The Chorus, in parallel dialogue, explain who they are, and seek to enlist Athene against the matricide; but Athene answers she has only heard one side. Chorus rejoin that the adversary dares not rest his case on oath for oath [political allusion to procedure of ordinary Athenian Courts]; Athene thinks that a poor way of getting at truth, and as Chorus express confidence in her judgment she calls on Orestes; he details again all the rites of purification he has gone through, and how Apollo bade him do the deed. Athene pauses: Murder stirred by wrath [i. e., homicide as distinguished from murder, the special province of the Court of Areopagus] is too much for mortal or even herself to decide; but she hereby appoints jurors on oath [the special distinction of the Areopagus] as a perpetual institution for dealing with such cases. Let the parties prepare, she will return soon with the best of her citizens [observe, the Court was an Aristocratic Court] as Jurors. {467}

CHORAL INTERLUDE

in four Strophes and Antistrophes.

Unless the right cause gains here there will be an outbreak of new laws, general recklessness, and woes of slain kindred with no Furies to avenge. Awe is good as watchman of the soul, and calm Wisdom gained by sorrow; it is not the lawless life that is to be praised, but from the soul's true health comes the fair fortune, loved of all mankind and aim of many a prayer. He who reveres not the High Altar of Justice, but dareth and transgresseth all, will, perforce, as time wears on, have to take in sail,

 
          When trouble makes him hers, and each yard-arm
                    Is shivered by the blast,
 

and in vain he struggles mid the whirling waves, ever failing to weather round the perilous promontory till he is wrecked on the reefs of Vengeance. {535}

CHANGE OF SCENE

to Mars' Hill. Enter Athene, followed by Herald and Twelve Citizens.

EXODUS, OR FINALE

Athene bids the Herald sound a summons, for the whole city is to learn the laws she makes for all time to come. Apollo enters above. The Chorus challenging his right, Apollo declares himself Witness and Advocate for Orestes. {551}

The Proceedings from this part are exactly modelled on those of the Court of the Areopagus. The Chorus called on to open, cross-examine Orestes in stichomuthic dialogue, who admits the deed, and pleads justification that she slew his father. —Cho. rejoin she has been paid by death, Orestes still lives. Why, then, Orestes enquires, did they not pursue her while alive? Chorus rest on plea that hers was not kindred blood. On this Orestes joins issue and appeals to Apollo. He answers: Though the Jurors are on oath, yet Zeus gave the oracle, and he is mightier than an oath. —Cho. What, Zeus take a matricide's part? —Apollo details the base manner of Agamemnon's murder. —Cho. taunt Apollo that Zeus himself rose by imprisoning his father. —Apollo rejoins that imprisonment is remediable, but blood once spilt can never be brought back. —Cho. appeal to impossibility of restoring such a criminal to the house he has polluted. – Then Apollo puts forth the essence of his case (in a subtle plea which would delight the litigious Athenians): the mother is only the nurse, the father is the true parent; as proof here is Pallas sprung from a Father without any Mother; none can be shown born without Father. {650}

Both parties join issue, and then (amidst intense political excitement) Athene delivers the Inauguration Address of the Court of the Areopagus.

Athene. Hear ye my order, O ye Attic people,

 
             In act to judge your first great murder-cause.
             And henceforth shall the host of Aegeus' race
             For ever own this council-hall of judges:
             And for this Ares' hill, the Amazons' seat
             And camp when they, enraged with Theseus, came
             In hostile march, and built as counterwork
             This citadel high-reared, a city new,
             And sacrificed to Ares, whence 'tis named
             As Ares' hill and fortress: in this, I say,
             The reverent awe its citizens shall own,
             And fear, awe's kindred, shall restrain from wrong
             By day, nor less by night, so long as they,
             The burghers, alter not themselves their laws:
             But if with drain of filth and tainted soil
             Clear river thou pollute, no drink thou'lt find.
             I give my counsel to you, citizens,
             To reverence and guard well that form of State
             Which is nor lawless, nor tyrannical,
             And not to cast all fear from out the city;
             For what man lives devoid of fear and just?
             But rightly shrinking, owning awe like this,
             Ye then would have a bulwark of your land,
             A safeguard for your city, such as none
             Boast or in Skythia's or in Pelops' clime.
             This council I establish pure from bribe,
             Reverend, and keen to act, for those that sleep
             An ever-watchful sentry of the land. {676}
 

After a rapid stichomuthic interchange of promises and threats by the two parties the voting is proceeded with, Athene first giving her casting vote, in case of equality, to Orestes, as preferring the male cause. [This was a political allusion to the 'vote of Athene' or custom of the Areopagite Court to give the casting vole to the accused.] The votes are counted, found equal, and Athene declares Orestes acquitted. —Orestes, in a burst of gratitude, declares his Argive people shall always be firm friends with the people of Athens. [Political hit.] {747}

The Chorus breaking into Strophic Lyrics vow vengeance and long train of ills on the city for this, Athene (in Blank Verse) propitiating them, and pleading that the cause has been fairly tried. Moreover they would lose all the good things the city will do for them if friendly, offering them a house in its midst. Gradually the Chorus calm down, and having (in parallel dialogue) gained a repeated promise from Athene they change their tone and (in Strophic Lyrics) promise all good to the land, Athene making acknowledgment on behalf of the city (in marching rhythm as signifying exultation). Finally Athene offers to conduct them at once to their homes, the cave-chapels where the Eumenides were worshipped.

Enter on the stage an array of Matrons and Girls in festal robes, as worn in the rites of the Furies, now called Eumenides or 'Gentle Goddesses' [thus spectacular effect with which Aeschylus loved to conclude]. They, with Athene, chanting the Ritual hymn, file down into the Orchestra, and so lead the Chorus out in the direction of the Shrines of the Eumenides.

4.Euphemism for the Furies, as the popular name 'Good Neighbours' for Mischievous Fairies.
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