Chapter 3

IPHIGENIA. Tell him that Artemis my soul did save, I wot not how, and to the altar gave A fawn instead; the which my father slew, Not seeing, deeming that the sword he drew Struck me. But she had borne me far away And left me in this land.--I charge thee, say So much. It all is written on the scroll.

PYLADES. An easy charge thou layest on my soul, A glad oath on thine own. I wait no more, But here fulfil the service that I swore. Orestes, take this tablet which I bear To thine own hand, thy sister's messenger.

ORESTES. I take it, but I reck not of its scrip Nor message. Too much joy is at my lip. Sister! Beloved! Wildered though I be, My arms believe not, yet they crave for thee. Now, filled with wonder, give me my delight!

[he goes to embrace her. she stands speechless.]

LEADER. Stranger, forbear! No living man hath right To touch that robe. The Goddess were defiled!

ORESTES. O Sister mine, O my dead father's child, Agamemnon's child; take me and have no fear, Beyond all dreams 'tis I thy brother here.

IPHIGENIA. My brother? Thou? ... Peace! Mock at me no more. Argos is bright with him and Nauplia's shore.

ORESTES. Unhappy one! Thou hast no brother there.

IPHIGENIA. Orestes ... thou? Whom Clytemnestra bare?

ORESTES. To Atreus' firstborn son, thy sire and mine.

IPHIGENIA. Thou sayst it: Oh, give me some proof, some sign!

ORESTES. What sign thou wilt. Ask anything from home.

IPHIGENIA. Nay, thou speak: 'tis from thee the sign should come.

ORESTES. That will I.--First, old tales Electra told. Thou knowest how Pelops' princes warred of old?

IPHIGENIA. I know: the Golden Lamb that wrought their doom.

ORESTES. Thine own hand wove that story on the loom...

IPHIGENIA. How sweet! Thou movest near old memories.

ORESTES. With a great Sun back beaten in the skies.

IPHIGENIA. Fine linen threads I used. The memories come.

ORESTES. And mother gave thee shrift-water from home For Aulis ...

IPHIGENIA. I remember. Not so fair A day did drink that water!

ORESTES. And thine hair They brought us for thy dying gift, and gave To mother.

IPHIGENIA. Yes: for record on the grave I sent it, where this head should never lie.

ORESTES. Another token, seen of mine own eye. The ancient lance that leapt in Pelops' hand, To win his bride, the virgin of the land, And smite Oenomaus, in thy chamber hid ...

IPHIGENIA (falling into his arms). Beloved! Oh, no other, for indeed Beloved art thou! In mine arms at last, Orestes far away.

ORESTES. And thou in mine, the evil dreaming past, Back from the dead this day! Yet through the joy tears, tears and sorrow loud Are o'er mine eyes and thine eyes, like a cloud.

IPHIGENIA. Is this the babe I knew, The little babe, light lifted like a bird? O heart of mine, too blest for any word, What shall I say or do? Beyond all wonders, beyond stories heard, This joy is here and true.

ORESTES. Could we but stay thus joined for evermore!

IPHIGENIA. A joy is mine I may not understand, Friends, and a fear, lest sudden from my hand This dream will melt and soar Up to the fiery skies from whence it came. O Argos land, O hearth and holy flame That old Cyclopes lit, I bless ye that he lives, that he is grown, A light and strength, my brother and mine own; I bless your name for it.

ORESTES. One blood we are; so much is well. But Fate, Sister, hath not yet made us fortunate.

IPHIGENIA. O most unfortunate! Did I not feel, Whose father, misery-hearted, at my bare Throat held the steel?

ORESTES. Woe's me! Methinks even now I see thee there.

IPHIGENIA. No love-song of Achilles! Crafty arms Drew me to that cold sleep, And tears, blind tears amid the altar psalms And noise of them that weep-- That was my cleansing!

ORESTES. My heart too doth bleed, To think our father wrought so dire a deed.

IPHIGENIA. My life hath known no father. Any road To any end may run, As god's will drives; else ...

ORESTES. Else, unhappy one, Thyself had spilt this day thy brother's blood!

IPHIGENIA. Ah God, my cruel deed! ... 'Twas horrible. 'Twas horrible ... O brother! Did my heart Endure it? ... And things fell Right by so frail a chance; and here thou art. Bloody my hand had been, My heart heavy with sin. And now, what end cometh? Shall Chance yet comfort me, Finding a way for thee Back from the Friendless Strand, Back from the place of death-- Ere yet the slayers come And thy blood sink in the sand-- Home unto Argos, home? ... Hard heart, so swift to slay, Is there to life no way? ...

No ship! ... And how by land? ... A rush of feet Out to the waste alone. Nay: 'twere to meet Death, amid tribes unknown And trackless ways of the waste ... Surely the sea were best. Back by the narrow bar To the Dark Blue Gate! ... Ah God, too far, too far! ... Desolate! Desolate!

What god or man, what unimagined flame, Can cleave this road where no road is, and bring To us last wrecks of Agamemnon's name, Peace from long suffering?

LEADER. Lo, deeds of wonder and beyond surmise, Not as tales told, but seen of mine own eyes.

PYLADES. Men that have found the arms of those they love Would fain long linger in the joy thereof. But we, Orestes, have no respite yet For tears or tenderness. Let us forget All but the one word Freedom, calling us To live, not die by altars barbarous. Think not of joy in this great hour, nor lose Fortune's first hold. Not thus do wise men use.

ORESTES. I think that Fortune watcheth o'er our lives, Surer than we. But well said: he who strives Will find his gods strive for him equally.

IPHIGENIA. He shall not check us so, nor baffle me Of this one word. How doth Electra move Through life? Ye twain are all I have to love.

ORESTES. A wife and happy: this man hath her hand.

IPHIGENIA. And what man's son is he, and of what land?

ORESTES. Son of King Strophios he is called of men.

IPHIGENIA. Whom Atreus' daughter wed?--My kinsman then.

ORESTES. Our cousin, and my true and only friend.

IPHIGENIA. He was not born, when I went to mine end.

ORESTES. No, Strophios had no child for many a year.

IPHIGENIA. I give thee hail, husband of one so dear.

ORESTES. My more than kinsman, saviour in my need!

IPHIGENIA. But mother ... Speak: how did ye dare that deed?

ORESTES. Our father's wrongs ... But let that story be.

IPHIGENIA. And she to slay her king! What cause had she?

ORESTES. Forget her! ... And no tale for thee it is.

IPHIGENIA. So be it.--And thou art Lord of Argolis?

ORESTES. Our uncle rules. I walk an exile's ways.

IPHIGENIA. Doth he so trample on our fallen days?

ORESTES. Nay: there be those that drive me, Shapes of Dread.

IPHIGENIA. Ah! That frenzy on the shore! 'Tis as they said...

ORESTES. They saw me in mine hour. It needs must be.

IPHIGENIA. 'Twas our dead mother's Furies hounding thee!

ORESTES. My mouth is bloody with the curb they ride.

IPHIGENIA. What brought thee here beyond the Friendless Tide?

ORESTES. What leads me everywhere--Apollo's word.

IPHIGENIA. Seeking what end?--Or may the tale be heard?

ORESTES. Nay, I can tell thee all. It needs must be The whole tale of my days of misery. When this sore evil that we speak not of Lit on my hand, this way and that they drove My body, till the God by diverse paths Led me to Athens, that the nameless Wraths Might bring me before judgment. For that land A pure tribunal hath, where Ares' hand, Red from an ancient stain, by Zeus was sent For justice. Thither came I; and there went God's hate before me, that at first no man Would give me shelter. Then some few began To pity, and set out for me aloof One table. There I sate within their roof, But without word they signed to me, as one Apart, unspoken to, unlocked upon, Lest touch of me should stain their meat and sup. And every man in measure filled his cup And gave me mine, and took their joy apart, While I sat silent; for I had no heart To upbraid the hosts that fed me. On I wrought In my deep pain, feigning to mark them not.

And now, men say, mine evil days are made A rite among them and the cups are laid Apart for each. The rule abideth still.

Howbeit, when I was come to Ares' Hill They gave me judgment. On one stone I stood, On one she that was eldest of the brood That hunted me so long. And many a word Touching my mother's death was spoke and heard, Till Phoebus rose to save me. Even lay The votes of Death and Life; when, lo, a sway Of Pallas' arm, and free at last I stood From that death grapple. But the Shapes of Blood-- Some did accept the judgment, and of grace Consent to make their house beneath that place In darkness. Others still consented not, But clove to me the more, like bloodhounds hot On the dying; till to Phoebus' house once more I crept, and cast me starving on the floor Facing the Holy Place, and made my cry: "Lord Phoebus, here I am come, and here will die, Unless thou save me, as thou hast betrayed." And, lo, from out that dark and golden shade A voice: "Go, seek the Taurian citadel: Seize there the carven Artemis that fell From heaven, and stablish it on Attic soil. So comes thy freedom." [IPHIGENIA shrinks.] Sister, in this toil

Help us!--If once that image I may win That day shall end my madness and my sin: And thou, to Argos o'er the sundering foam My many-oared barque shall bear thee home.

O sister loved and lost, O pitying face, Help my great peril; help our father's race. For lost am I and perished all the powers Of Pelops, save that heavenly thing be ours!

LEADER. Strange wrath of God hath fallen, like hot rain, On Tantalus' house: he leadeth them through pain.

IPHIGENIA. Long ere you came my heart hath yearned to be In Argos, brother, and so near to thee: But now--thy will is mine. To ease thy pain, To lift our father's house to peace again, And hate no more my murderers--aye,'tis good. Perchance to clean this hand that sought thy blood, And save my people... But the goddess' eyes, How dream we to deceive them? Or what wise Escape the King, when on his sight shall fall The blank stone of the empty pedestal? ... I needs must die ... What better can I do?

And yet, one chance there is: could I but go Together with the image: couldst thou bear Both on the leaping seas! The risk were fair. But how?

Nay, I must wait then and be slain: Thou shalt walk free in Argolis again, And all life smile on thee ... Dearest, we need Nor shrink from that. I shall by mine own deed Have saved thee. And a man gone from the earth Is wept for. Women are but little worth.

ORESTES. My mother and then thou? It may not be. This hand hath blood enough. I stand with thee One-hearted here, be it for life or death, And either bear thee, if God favoureth, With me to Greece and home, or else lie here Dead at thy side.--But mark me: if thou fear Lest Artemis be wroth, how can that be? Hath not her brother's self commanded me To bear to Greece her image?--Oh, he knew Her will! He knew that in this land we two Must meet once more. All that so far hath past Doth show his work. He will not at the last Fail. We shall yet see Argos, thou and I.

IPHIGENIA. To steal for thee the image, yet not die Myself! 'Tis that we need. 'Tis that doth kill My hope. Else ... Oh, God knows I have the will!

ORESTES. How if we slew your savage king?

IPHIGENIA. Ah, no: He sheltered me, a stranger.

ORESTES. Even so, If it bring life for me and thee, the deed May well be dared.

IPHIGENIA. I could not ... Nay; indeed I thank thee for thy daring.

ORESTES. Canst thou hide My body in the shrine?

IPHIGENIA. There to abide Till nightfall, and escape?

ORESTES. Even so; the night Is the safe time for robbers, as the light For just men.

IPHIGENIA. There be sacred watchers there Who needs must see us.

ORESTES. Gods above! What prayer Can help us then?

IPHIGENIA. I think I dimly see One chance.

ORESTES. What chance? Speak out thy fantasy.

IPHIGENIA'. On thine affliction I would build my way.

ORESTES. Women have strange devices.

IPHIGENIA. I would say Thou com'st from Hellas with thy mother's blood Upon thee.

ORESTES. Use my shame, if any good Will follow.

IPHIGENIA. Therefore, an offence most high It were to slay thee to the goddess!

ORESTES. Why? Though I half guess.

IPHIGENIA. Thy body is unclean.-- Oh, I will fill them with the fear of sin!

ORESTES. What help is that for the Image?

IPHIGENIA. I will crave To cleanse thee in the breaking of the wave.

ORESTES. That leaves the goddess still inside her shrine, And'tis for her we sailed.

IPHIGENIA. A touch of thine Defiled her. She too must be purified.

ORESTES. Where shall it be? Thou knowest where the tide Sweeps up in a long channel?

IPHIGENIA. Yes! And where Your ship, I guess, lies moored.

ORESTES. Whose hand will bear-- Should it be thine?--the image from her throne?

IPHIGENIA. No hand of man may touch it save mine own.

ORESTES. And Pylades--what part hath he herein?

IPHIGENIA. The same as thine. He bears the self-same sin.

ORESTES. How wilt thou work the plan--hid from the king Or known?

IPHIGENIA. To hide it were a hopeless thing.. Oh, I will face him, make him yield to me.

ORESTES. Well, fifty oars lie waiting on the sea.

IPHIGENIA. Aye, there comes thy work, till an end be made.

ORESTES. Good. It needs only that these women aid Our secret. Do thou speak with them, and find Words of persuasion. Power is in the mind Of woman to wake pity.--For the rest, God knoweth: may it all end for the best!

IPHIGENIA. O women, you my comrades, in your eyes I look to read my fate. In you it lies, That either I find peace, or be cast down To nothing, robbed for ever of mine own-- Brother, and home, and sister pricelessly Beloved.--Are we not women, you and I, A broken race, to one another true, And strong in our shared secrets? Help me through This strait; keep hid the secret of our flight, And share our peril! Honour shineth bright On her whose lips are steadfast ... Heaven above! Three souls, but one in fortune, one in love, Thou seest us go--is it to death or home? If home, then surely, surely, there shall come Part of our joy to thee. I swear, I swear To aid thee also home ...

[she goes to one after another, and presently kneels embracing the knees of the LEADER.]

I make my prayer By that right hand; to thee, too, by that dear Cheek; by thy knees; by all that is not here Of things beloved, by mother, father, child-- Thou hadst a child!--How say ye? Have ye smiled Or turned from me? For if ye turn away, I and my brother are lost things this day.

LEADER. Be of good heart, sweet mistress. Only go To happiness. No child of man shall know From us thy secret. Hear me, Zeus on high!

IPHIGENIA (rising). God bless you for that word, and fill your eye With light!--

[turning to ORESTES and PYLADES.]

But now, to work! Go thou, and thou, In to the deeper shrine. King Thoas now Should soon be here to question if the price Be yet paid of the strangers' sacrifice.

[ORESTES and PYLADES go in.]

Thou Holy One, that on the shrouded sand Of Aulis saved me from a father's hand Blood-maddened, save me now, and save these twain. Else shall Apollo's lips, through thy disdain, Be no more true nor trusted in men's eyes. Come from the friendless shore, the cruel skies, Come back: what mak'st thou here, when o'er the sea A clean and joyous land doth call for thee?

[she follows the men into the temple.]

CHORUS.

[STROPHE I.]

Bird of the sea rocks, of the bursting spray, O halcyon bird, That wheelest crying, crying, on thy way; Who knoweth grief can read the tale of thee: One love long lost, one song for ever heard And wings that sweep the sea.

Sister, I too beside the sea complain, A bird that hath no wing. Oh, for a kind Greek market-place again, For Artemis that healeth woman's pain; ' Here I stand hungering. Give me the little hill above the sea, The palm of Delos fringed delicately, The young sweet laurel and the olive-tree Grey-leaved and glimmering; O Isle of Leto, Isle of pain and love; The Orbed Water and the spell thereof; Where still the Swan, minstrel of things to be, Doth serve the Muse and sing!

[ANTISTROPHE I.]

Ah, the old tears, the old and blinding tears I gave God then, When my town fell, and noise was in mine ears Of crashing towers, and forth they guided me Through spears and lifted oars and angry men Out to an unknown sea. They bought my flesh with gold, and sore afraid I came to this dark East To serve, in thrall to Agamemnon's maid, This Huntress Artemis, to whom is paid The blood of no slain beast; Yet all is bloody where I dwell, Ah me! Envying, envying that misery That through all life hath endured changelessly. For hard things borne from birth Make iron of man's heart, and hurt the less. 'Tis change that paineth; and the bitterness Of life's decay when joy hath ceased to be That makes dark all the earth.

Behold, [STROPHE 2.] Two score and ten there be Rowers that row for thee, And a wild hill air, as if Pan were there, Shall sound on the Argive sea, Piping to set thee free.

Or is it the stricken string Of Apollo's lyre doth sing Joyously, as he guideth thee To Athens, the land of spring; While I wait wearying?

Oh, the wind and the oar, When the great sail swells before, With sheets astrain, like a horse on the rein; And on, through the race and roar, She feels for the farther shore.

Ah me, [ANTISTROPHE 2.] To rise upon wings and hold Straight on up the steeps of gold Where the joyous Sun in fire doth run, Till the wings should faint and fold O'er the house that was mine of old:

Or watch where the glade below With a marriage dance doth glow, And a child will glide from her mother's side Out, out, where the dancers flow: As I did, long ago.

Oh, battles of gold and rare Raiment and starred hair, And bright veils crossed amid tresses tossed In a dusk of dancing air! O Youth and the days that were!

[enter KING THOAS, with soldiers.]

THOAS. Where is the warden of this sacred gate, The Greek woman? Is her work ended yet With those two strangers? Do their bodies lie Aflame now in the rock-cleft sanctuary?

LEADER. Here is herself, O King, to give thee word. enter, from the temple, IPHIGENIA, carrying the image on high.

THOAS. How, child of Agamemnon! Hast thou stirred From her eternal base, and to the sun Bearest in thine own arms, the Holy One?

IPHIGENIA. Back Lord! No step beyond the pillared way.

THOAS. But how? Some rule is broken?

IPHIGENIA. I unsay That word. Be all unspoken and unwrought!

THOAS. What means this greeting strange? Disclose thy thought.

IPHIGENIA. Unclean the prey was that ye caught, O King.

THOAS. Who showed thee so? Thine own imagining?

IPHIGENIA. The Image stirred and shuddered from its seat.

THOAS. Itself? ... Some shock of earthquake loosened it.

IPHIGENIA. Itself. And the eyes closed one breathing space.

THOAS. But why? For those two men's bloodguiltiness?

IPHIGENIA. That, nothing else. For, Oh, their guilt is sore.

THOAS. They killed some of my herdsmen on the shore?

IPHIGENIA. Their sin was brought from home, not gathered here.

THOAS. What? I must know this.--Make thy story clear.

IPHIGENIA. (she puts the image down and moves nearer to thoas.) The men have slain their mother.

THOAS. God! And these Be Greeks!

IPHIGENIA They both are hunted out of Greece.

THOAS. For this thou has brought the Image to the sun?

IPHIGENIA. The fire of heaven can cleanse all malison.

THOAS. How didst thou first hear of their deed of shame?

IPHIGENIA. When the Image hid its eyes, I questioned them.

THOAS. Good. Greece hath taught thee many a subtle art.

IPHIGENIA. Ah, they too had sweet words to move my heart.

THOAS. Sweet words? How, did they bring some news of Greece?

IPHIGENIA. Orestes, my one brother, lives in peace.

THOAS. Surely! Good news to make thee spare their lives ...

IPHIGENIA. My father too in Argos lives and thrives.

THOAS. While thou didst think but of the goddess' laws!

IPHIGENIA. Do I not hate all Greeks? Have I not cause?

THOAS. Good cause. But now ... What service should be paid?

IPHIGENIA. The Law of long years needs must be obeyed.

THOAS. To work then, with thy sword and handwashing!

IPHIGENIA. First I must shrive them with some cleansing thing.

THOAS. What? Running water, or the sea's salt spray?

IPHIGENIA. The sea doth wash all the world's ills away.

THOAS. For sure. 'Twill make them cleaner for the knife.

IPHIGENIA. And my hand, too, cleaner for all my life.

THOAS. Well, the waves lap close by the temple floor.

IPHIGENIA. We need a secret place. I must do more.

THOAS. Some rite unseen? 'Tis well. Go where thou wilt.

IPHIGENIA. The Image likewise must be purged of guilt.

THOAS. The stain hath touched it of that mother's blood?

IPHIGENIA. I durst not move it else, from where it stood.

THOAS. How good thy godliness and forethought! Aye, Small wonder all our people holds thee high.

IPHIGENIA. Dost know then what I fain would have?

THOAS. 'Tis thine to speak and it shall be.

IPHIGENIA. Put bondage on the strangers both ...

THOAS. Why bondage? Whither can they flee?

IPHIGENIA. Put not thy faith in any Greek.

THOAS (to ATTENDANTS). Ho, men! Some thongs and fetters, go!

IPHIGENIA. Stay; let them lead the strangers here, outside the shrine ...

THOAS. It shall be so.

IPHIGENIA. And lay dark raiment on their heads ...

THOAS. To veil them, lest the Sun should see.

IPHIGENIA. And lend me some of thine own spears.

THOAS. This company shall go with thee.

IPHIGENIA. Next, send through all the city streets a herald ...

THOAS. Aye; and what to say?

IPHIGENIA. That no man living stir abroad.

THOAS. The stain of blood might cross their way.

IPHIGENIA. Aye, sin like theirs doth spread contagion.

THOAS (to an ATTENDANT). Forth, and publish my command ...

IPHIGENIA. That none stir forth--nor look ...

THOAS. Nor look.--How well thou carest for the land!

IPHIGENIA. For one whom I am bound to love.

THOAS. Indeed, I think thou hat'st me not.

IPHIGENIA. And thou meanwhile, here at the temple, wait, O King, and ...

THOAS. Wait for what?

IPHIGENIA. Purge all the shrine with fire.

THOAS. 'Twill all be clean before you come again.

IPHIGENIA. And while the strangers pass thee close, seeking the sea ...

THOAS. What wouldst thou then?

IPHIGENIA. Put darkness on thine eyes.

THOAS. Mine eyes might drink the evil of their crime?

IPHIGENIA.

And, should I seem to stay too long ...

THOAS. Too long? How shall I judge the time?

IPHIGENIA. Be not dismayed.

THOAS. Perform thy rite all duly. We have time to spare.

IPHIGENIA. And God but grant this cleansing end as I desire!

THOAS. I join thy prayer.

IPHIGENIA. The door doth open! See, they lead the strangers from the cell within, And raiment holy and young lambs, whose blood shall shrive the blood of Sin. And, lo, the light of sacred fires, and things of secret power, arrayed By mine own hand to cleanse aright the strangers, to cleanse Leto's Maid.

[she takes up the image again.]