Clytemnestra

“ The conversation which ordinarily fills up such intervals in the performance can hardly find place now, for all minds have been oppressed with a weight of awe which does not easily pass away. A confused mass of giant forms and deeds of blood is before our eyes, and mingled tones of triumph and despair are still ringing in our ears. But gradually, as we gaze, the several parts sink back into due proportion, and gradually there comes out into distinctness the supremely great figure of Clytemnestra. ”

“ The scene opens, disclosing Clytemnestra, who comes forward. The body of Agamemnon lies, muffled in a long robe, within a silver-sided laver; the corpse of Cassandra is laid beside him.
Clytemnestra.
Ho, ye who heard me speak so long and oft
The glozing word that led me to my will—
Hear how I shrink not to unsay it all!
How else should one who willeth to requite
Evil for evil to an enemy
Disguised as friend, weave the mesh straitly round him,
Not to be overleaped, a net of doom. ”

“ It leaves one very little to add, but I cannot help saying that I think the management of Clytemnestra especially admirable throughout. She loves Aegisthus with the fatal passion which no scorn or cruelty on his part can quench; but while he is in power and triumphant, her heart turns tenderly to her hapless children, whom she abhors as soon as his calamity comes; then she has no thought but to save him. She can join her children in hating the murder which she has herself done on Agamemnon, but she cannot avenge it on Aegisthus, and thus expiate her crime in their eyes. ”

“ Clytemnestra, though she appears only for two short scenes, preserves still the almost superhuman grandeur which was hers in the Agamemnon, Her simplest word has power to arrest the attention; and while she is present other people seem small and their emotions ordinary. Her own emotions lie deep and complex, fold behind fold. It is shallow to dismiss her as a hypocrite, feigning grief at the death of the son whom she fears. ”

“ Clytemnestra.
Woe, woe! Ægisthus, spouse and champion, slain!
Orestes.
What, lov'st the man? then in his grave lie down,
Be his in death, desert him nevermore!
Clytemnestra.
Stay, child, and fear to strike. O son, this breast
Pillowed thine head full oft, while, drowsed with sleep,
Thy toothless mouth drew mother's-milk from me.
Orestes.
Can I my mother spare? speak, Pylades.
Pylades.
Where then would fall the hest Apollo gave
At Delphi, where the solemn compact sworn?
Choose thou the hate of all men, not of gods.
Orestes.
Thou dost prevail; I hold thy counsel good. ”

“ Clytemnestra warmly rebuked him, first simulating the frown of the irritated.
"Now, Bernal! Wide awake! My days alive! You act like a wild Indian's little boy. This'll never do. Now you go right to sleep this minute, while I watch you. Look how fine and good Allan is." She spoke low, not to awaken the one virtuous sleeper, who seemed thereupon to breathe with a more swelling and obtrusive rectitude.
"Clytie—now—ain't there any Santa Claus?" ”

“ He, however, returned with Cassandra to Argos, where the sad prediction was fulfilled. One day as he came from the bath, Clytemnestra gave him a tunic, the sleeves of which were sewn together, and as he was embarrassed with the folds, she brought him to the ground with the stroke of a hatchet, while Egisthus, with whom she had dishonoured herself during Agamemnon's absence, gave him the finishing blow.
"Clytemnestra. What have I done?—
Where am I?
Egisthus. Hast thou slain the tyrant? Now
At length thou art worthy of me. ”

“ The Ruin which the gods, in their mysterious will, sent down upon the race of Pelops stands before us visible in Clytemnestra. Looked at from the human side, she is an incarnation of consummate wickedness, triumphant and unashamed; from the divine side she is a messenger of Atè and Erinnys, filled full with their terrible displeasure, the most awful object that could meet the eyes of bewildered and despairing mortals. Through a long series of short answering chants her consciousness of this dread mission is contrasted with the timid horror of the Chorus. ”

“ Clytemnestra.
To kill thy mother, Child: is that thy will?
Orestes.
I kill thee not: thyself it is doth kill.
Clytemnestra.
A mother hath her Watchers: think and quail!
Orestes.
How shall I 'scape my Father's if I fail?
Clytemnestra (to herself) .
Living, I cry for mercy to a tomb!
Orestes.
Yea, from the grave my father speaks thy doom.
Clytemnestra.
Ah God! The serpent that I bare and fed!
Orestes.
Surely of truth prophetic is the dread
That walketh among dreams. Most sinfully
Thou slewest: now hath Sin her will of thee. ”

“ Clytemnestra.
Was it fear made this meekness to the gods?
Agamemnon.
If cause be cause, 'tis mine for this resolve.
Clytemnestra.
What, think'st thou, in thy place had Priam done?
Agamemnon.
He surely would walked on broidered robes.
Clytemnestra.
Then fear not thou the voice of human blame.
Agamemnon.
Yet mighty is the murmur of a crowd.
Clytemnestra.
Shrink not from envy, appanage of bliss.
Agamemnon.
War is not woman's part, nor war of words.
Clytemnestra.
Yet happy victors well may yield therein. ”

“ When Aigisthos appears, and the scene suddenly becomes filled with the wrangling of common men, Clytemnestra fades into a long silence, from which she only emerges at the very end of the drama to pray again for Peace, and, strangest of all, to utter the entreaty: "Let us not stain ourselves with blood!" ”

“ Clytemnestra!" Agamemnon could not be got to show in his classical tunic, but stood in the background with Aegisthus and others of the performers of the little play. Mr. Bedwin Sands led on Zuleikah and Clytemnestra. A great personage insisted on being presented to the charming Clytemnestra. "Heigh ha? Run him through the body. Marry somebody else, hay?" was the apposite remark made by His Royal Highness.
"Mrs. Rawdon Crawley was quite killing in the part," said Lord Steyne. Becky laughed, gay and saucy looking, and swept the prettiest little curtsey ever seen. ”

“ Who knows what may happen?'—she added, with a sinister smile, 'We may be happy yet!'
Clytemnestra's sinister smiles always made Ægisthus feel exactly as if something was disagreeing with him—so he stayed.
By this time the populace had also realised the turn affairs had taken, but they very sensibly determined that it was their plain duty to persevere with the merriment. ”

“ Clytemnestra, who has watched like a drowning woman to see which way the youth's fierce vanity would leap, throws herself at his feet in gratitude; "Shall her daughter, also, come and embrace his knees?" No; Achilles does not want any woman to kneel to him. Let the women try to change Agamemnon's mind; if they can do it, all is well. If not, Achilles will fight to the last to save the girl. ”

“ It seems to me that Aeschylus' imagination realized all the confused passions in Clytemnestra's mind, but that his art was not yet sufficiently developed to make them all clear and explicit. She is in suspense; does Agamemnon know her guilt or not? At least, if she is to die, she wants to say something to justify or excuse herself in the eyes of the world. A touch of hysteria creeps in; why could he not have been killed in all these years? Why must he rise, like some monster from the grave, unkillable? ”

“ When the news came of the fall of Troy and the return of the army, Clytemnestra had matured her plans for vengeance. For years she had nursed her wrath, and plotted with all the subtlety of her mental powers. And for years she had hoped for and dreaded the day which would bring back the king to Mycenæ. Her love for Egisthus was common knowledge in the palace. Her sin would doubtless be proclaimed to Agamemnon immediately after his arrival, even if he did not already know of it; and she knew that the penalty of it would be death. ”

“ Short as the part of Agamemnon is, the poet has the address to throw such an amiable dignity around him that we soon become interested in his favour, and are predisposed to lament his fate. The character of Clytemnestra is finely marked—a high-spirited, artful, close, determined, dangerous woman. But the poet has nowhere exerted such efforts of his genius as in the scene where Cassandra appears: as a prophetess, she gives every mark of the divine inspiration, from the dark and distant hint, through all the noble imagery of the prophetic enthusiasm ”

“ But to the Senators only one thing is clear. A terrible crime has been committed: their king has been foully slain. All Clytemnestra’s pleas in extenuation of the deed are wasted words. To them the situation is tragically simple: her guilt is plain; there is but one word that fits her—murderess. There is no question for them of reason or of motive. What she claims to be a righteous judgment upon Agamemnon, they declare to be a crime demanding punishment. But they are not strong enough to enforce their will; and when they threaten Clytemnestra with banishment, she answers with scorn. ”

“ The chorus receives Clytemnestra's news with joy and prepares to sing praises to the gods, as the queen with her train leaves the stage.
First episode.—Clytemnestra, conscious of guilt, and fearing that her returning husband will severely punish her on account of her adulterous life with Aegisthus, resolves to add crime to crime and murder Agamemnon as soon as he comes back to his home. She is further impelled to this action by his conduct in the matter of her daughter, Iphigenia, and by his own unfaithfulness to her during his long absence. ”

“ Clytemnestra, in exultation that she can hardly conceal, reassures him. In lines of exquisite poetic beauty, but weighted with a meaning that he does not see, she declares that this honour is his due; that it is a sacrifice for his return. Then, as Agamemnon passes within the palace, she remains for one instant outside. The fire of exultation dies away. She forgets the people standing round, the need for dissimulation, the danger of discovery. One thought sweeps everything else away—the thought of the stupendous deed that she is about to attempt, its horror and its peril. ”

“ Thou reck'st not of a Mother's Curse, my child?
Orestes.
Not hers who cast me out into the wild.
Clytemnestra.
Cast out? I sent thee to a war-friend's Hall.
Orestes.
A free man's heir, ye sold me like a thrall.
Clytemnestra.
If thou wast sold, where is the price I got?
Orestes.
The price! . . . For very shame I speak it not.
Clytemnestra.
Speak. But tell, too, thy father's harlotries.
Orestes.
Judge not the toiler, thou who sitt'st at ease!
Clytemnestra.
A woman starves with no man near, my son.
Orestes.
Her man's toil wins her bread when he is gone. ”

“ In life thou didst exalt him o'er my sire;
Since him thou lovest, sleep with him in death;
Whom thou wast bound to love thou didst abhor.
Clytemnestra.
I nourished thee;—with thee I would grow old.
Orestes.
Thou, slayer of my father, dwell with me!
Clytemnestra.
Fate was, my child, accomplice in these woes.
Orestes.
And Fate it is who doth this death ordain.
Clytemnestra.
Dost not a parent's curse revere, my child?
Orestes.
My mother, thou didst cast me forth for woe.
Clytemnestra.
Not outcast wast thou in a friendly house. ⁠900
Orestes. ”

“ In April it was finished, and at his father's request Mark reluctantly sent it with his Clytemnestra to the annual exhibition. One morning at breakfast Mr. Yule suddenly laughed out behind his paper, and with a face of unmixed satisfaction passed it to his son, pointing to a long critique upon the Exhibition. Mark prepared himself to receive with becoming modesty the praises lavished upon his great work, but was stricken with amazement to find Clytemnestra disposed of in a single sentence, and the Golden Wedding lauded in a long enthusiastic paragraph.
"What the deuce does the man mean!" ”

“ There is no groaning in her last life-struggle. She dies, as she lived, self-sustained and equal to all emergencies. This terrible personality endures even in the grave. When she rises in the Eumenides, a ghost from Hades, it is with bitter taunts and a most biting tongue that she stirs up the Furies to revenge. If we are to seek a parallel for Clytemnestra in our own dramatic literature, I should be inclined to look for it in the Vittoria Corrombona of Webster. The modern poet has not developed his [Pg 394] "white devil of Italy" with the care that Æschylus bestowed on Clytemnestra. ”

“ Clytemnestra never breaks down. Her sin feeds and nourishes her nature, instead of starving and palsying it; her soul grows fat and prospers, nor does she know what conscience means. She is never more imposing in her pride of intellectual strength than when she receives the feigned news of Orestes' death. Just as the superior nature of Lady Macbeth is enhanced by contrast with her weaker husband, so Clytemnestra appears to the greatest advantage by the side of Ægisthus. Ægisthus in the last scene of the Agamemnon brags and blusters ”

“ Why should Aeschylus, having so poor an opinion of women, have given so prominent a place to Clytemnestra in the murder of Agamemnon? The answer is doubtless to be found in the very significant fact that between Homer and Aeschylus the story had been treated by Stesichorus, to whom the prominence of Clytemnestra was beyond all reasonable doubt due. ”