Chapter 4

There passeth here a holy thing: begone, I charge ye, from the road, O whoso by these sacred gates may dwell, hand-consecrate to God, What man hath marriage in his heart, what woman goeth great with child, Begone and tremble from this road: fly swiftly, lest ye be defiled.--

O Queen and Virgin, Leto-born, have pity! Let me cleanse this stain, And pray to thee where pray I would: a clean house shall be thine again, And we at last win happiness.--Behold, I speak but as I dare; The rest ... Oh, God is wise, and thou, my Mistress, thou canst read my prayer.

[The procession passes out, THOAS and the bystanders veiled; Attendants in front, then IPHIGENIA with the Image, then veiled Soldiers, then ORESTES and PYLADES bound, the bonds held by other veiled Soldiers following them. THOAS goes into the Temple.]

CHORUS. [STROPHE.] Oh, fair the fruits of Leto blow: A Virgin, one, with joyous bow, And one a Lord of flashing locks, Wise in the harp, Apollo: She bore them amid Delian rocks, Hid in a fruited hollow.

But forth she fared from that low reef, Sea-cradle of her joy and grief. A crag she knew more near the skies And lit with wilder water, That leaps with joy of Dionyse: There brought she son and daughter.

And there, behold, an ancient Snake, Wine-eyed, bronze-gleaming in the brake Of deep-leaved laurel, ruled the dell, Sent by old Earth from under Strange caves to guard her oracle-- A thing of fear and wonder.

Thou, Phoebus, still a new-born thing, Meet in thy mother's arms to lie, Didst kill the Snake and crown thee king, In Pytho's land of prophecy: Thine was the tripod and the chair Of golden truth; and throned there, Hard by the streams of Castaly, Beneath the untrodden portal Of Earth's mid stone there flows from thee Wisdom for all things mortal.

[ANTISTROPHE.]

He slew the Snake; he cast, men say, Themis, the child of Earth, away From Pytho and her hallowed stream; Then Earth, in dark derision, Brought forth the Peoples of the Dream And all the tribes of Vision.

And men besought them; and from deep Confused underworlds of sleep They showed blind things that erst had been And are and yet shall follow So did avenge that old Earth Queen Her child's wrong on Apollo.

Then swiftly flew that conquering one To Zeus on high, and round the throne Twining a small indignant hand, Prayed him to send redeeming To Pytho from that troublous band Sprung from the darks of dreaming.

Zeus laughed to see the babe, I trow, So swift to claim his golden rite; He laughed and bowed his head, in vow To still those voices of the night. And so from out the eyes of men That dark dream-truth was lost again; And Phoebus, throneed where the throng Prays at the golden portal, Again doth shed in sunlit song Hope unto all things mortal.

[enter a MESSENGER, running.]

MESSENGER. Ho, watchers of the fane! Ho, altar-guard, Where is King Thoas gone? Undo the barred Portals, and call the King! The King I seek.

LEADER. What tidings--if unbidden I may speak?

MESSENGER. The strangers both are gone, and we beguiled, By some dark plot of Agamemnon's child: Fled from the land! And on a barque of Greece They bear the heaven-sent shape of Artemis.

LEADER. Thy tale is past belief.--Go, swiftly on, And find the King. He is but newly gone.

MESSENGER. Where went he? He must know of what has passed!

LEADER. I know not where he went. But follow fast And seek him. Thou wilt light on him ere long.

MESSENGER. See there! The treason of a woman's tongue! Ye all are in the plot, I warrant ye!

LEADER. Thy words are mad! What are the men to me? ... Go to the palace, go!

MESSENGER (seeing the great knocker on the temple door.) I will not stir Till word be come by this good messenger If Thoas be within these gates or no.--

[thundering at the door.]

Ho, loose the portals! Ye within! What ho! Open, and tell our master one doth stand Without here, with strange evil in his hand.

[enter THAOS from the temple.]

THOAS. Who dares before this portal consecrate Make uproar and lewd battering of the gate? Thy noise hath broke the Altar's ancient peace.

MESSENGER. Ye Gods! They swore to me--and bade me cease My search--the King was gone. And all the while ...!

THOAS. These women? How? What sought they by such guile?

MESSENGER. Of them hereafter!--Give me first thine ear For greater things. The virgin minister That served our altar, she hath fled from this And stolen the dread Shape of Artemis, With those two Greeks. The cleansing was a lie.

THOAS. She fled?--What wild hope whispered her to fly?

MESSENGER. The hope to save Orestes. Wonder on!

THOAS. Orestes--how? Not Clytemnestra's son?

MESSENGER. And our pledged altar-offering. 'Tis the same.

THOAS. O marvel beyond marvel! By what name More rich in wonder can I name thee right?

MESSENGER. Give not thy mind to that. Let ear and sight Be mine awhile; and when thou hast heard the whole Devise how best to trap them ere the goal.

THOAS. Aye, tell thy tale. Our Tauric seas stretch far, Where no man may escape my wand of war.

MESSENGER. Soon as we reached that headland of the sea, Whereby Orestes' barque lay secretly, We soldiers holding, by thine own commands, The chain that bound the strangers, in our hands, There Agamemnon's daughter made a sign, Bidding us wait far off, for some divine And secret fire of cleansing she must make. We could but do her will. We saw her take The chain in her own hands and walk behind. Indeed thy servants bore a troubled mind, O King, but how do else? So time went by. Meanwhile to make it seem she wrought some high Magic, she cried aloud: then came the long Drone of some strange and necromantic song, As though she toiled to cleanse that blood; and there Sat we, that long time, waiting. Till a fear O'ertook us, that the men might slip their chain And strike the priestess down and plunge amain For safety: yet the dread our eyes to fill With sights unbidden held us, and we still Sat silent. But at last all spoke as one, Forbid or not forbid, to hasten on And find them. On we went, and suddenly, With oarage poised, like wings upon the sea, An Argive ship we saw, her fifty men All benched, and on the shore, with every chain Cast off, our strangers, standing by the stern! The prow was held by stay-poles: turn by turn The anchor-cable rose; some men had strung Long ropes into a ladder, which they swung Over the side for those two Greeks to climb.

The plot was open, and we lost no time But flew to seize the cables and the maid, And through the stern dragged out the steering-blade, To spoil her course, and shouted: "Ho, what way Is this, to sail the seas and steal away An holy image and its minister? What man art them, and what man's son, to bear Our priestess from the land?" And clear thereon He spoke: "Orestes, Agamemnon's son, And brother to this maid, whom here in peace I bear, my long lost sister, back to Greece."

We none the less clung fast to her, and strove To drag her to thy judgment-seat. Thereof Came trouble and bruised jaws. For neither they Nor we had weapons with us. But the way Hard-beaten fist and heel from those two men Rained upon ribs and flank--again, again... To touch was to fall gasping! Aye, they laid Their mark on all of us, till back we fled With bleeding crowns, and some with blinded eyes, Up a rough bank of rock. There on the rise We found good stones and stood, and fought again.

But archers then came out, and sent a rain Of arrows from the poop, and drove us back. And just then--for a wave came, long and black, And swept them shoreward--lest the priestess' gown Should feel the sea, Orestes stooping down Caught her on his left shoulder: then one stride Out through the sea, the ladder at the side Was caught, and there amid the benches stood The maid of Argos and the carven wood Of heaven, the image of God's daughter high.

And up from the mid galley rose a cry: "For Greece! For Greece, O children of the shores Of storm! Give way, and let her feel your oars; Churn the long waves to foam. The prize is won. The prize we followed, on and ever on, Friendless beyond the blue Symplegades." A roar of glad throats echoed down the breeze And fifty oars struck, and away she flew. And while the shelter lasted, she ran true Full for the harbour-mouth; but ere she well Reached it, the weather caught her, and the swell Was strong. Then sudden in her teeth a squall Drove the sail bellying back. The men withal Worked with set teeth, kicking against the stream. But back, still back, striving as in a dream, She drifted. Then the damsel rose and prayed: "O Child of Leto, save thy chosen maid From this dark land to Hellas, and forgive My theft this day, and let these brave men live. Dost thou not love thy brother, Holy One? What marvel if I also love mine own?"

The sailors cried a paean to her prayers, And set those brown and naked arms of theirs, Half-mad with strain, quick swinging chime on chime To the helmsman's shout. But vainly; all the time Nearer and nearer rockward they were pressed. One of our men was wading to his breast, Some others roping a great grappling-hook, While I sped hot-foot to the town, to look For thee, my Prince, and tell thee what doth pass.

Come with me, Lord. Bring manacles of brass And bitter bonds. For now, unless the wave Fall sudden calm, no mortal power can save Orestes. There is One that rules the sea Who grieved for Troy and hates her enemy: Poseidon's self will give into thine hand And ours this dog, this troubler of the land-- The priestess, too, who, recking not what blood Ran red in Aulis, hath betrayed her god!

LEADER. Woe, woe! To fall in these men's hands again, Mistress, and die, and see thy brother slain!

THOAS. Ho, all ye dwellers of my savage town Set saddle on your steeds, and gallop down To watch the heads, and gather what is cast Alive from this Greek wreck. We shall make fast, By God's help, the blasphemers.--Send a corps Out in good boats a furlong from the shore; So we shall either snare them on the seas Or ride them down by land, and at our ease Fling them down gulfs of rock, or pale them high On stakes in the sun, to feed our birds and die.

Women: you knew this plot. Each one of you Shall know, before the work I have to do Is done, what torment is.--Enough. A clear Task is afoot. I must not linger here.

[While THOAS is moving off, his men shouting and running before and behind him, there comes a sudden blasting light and thunder- roll, and ATHENA is seen in the air confronting them.]

ATHENA. Ho, whither now, so hot upon the prey, King Thoas? It is I that bid thee stay, Athena, child of Zeus. Turn back this flood Of wrathful men, and get thee temperate blood. Apollo's word and Fate's ordained path Have led Orestes here, to escape the wrath Of Them that Hate. To Argos he must bring His sister's life, and guide that Holy Thing Which fell from heaven, in mine own land to dwell. So shall his pain have rest, and all be well. Thou hast heard my speech, O King. No death from thee May share Orestes between rocks and sea: Poseidon for my love doth make the sore Waves gentle, and set free his labouring oar.

And thou, O far away--for, far or near A goddess speaketh and thy heart must hear-- Go on thy ways, Orestes, bearing home The Image and thy sister. When ye come To god-built Athens, lo, a land there is Half hid on Attica's last boundaries, A little land, hard by Karystus' Rock, But sacred. It is called by Attic folk Halae. Build there a temple, and bestow Therein thine Image, that the world may know The tale of Tauris and of thee, cast out From pole to pole of Greece, a blood-hound rout Of ill thoughts driving thee. So through the whole Of time to Artemis the Tauropole Shall men make hymns at Halae. And withal Give them this law. At each high festival, A sword, in record of thy death undone, Shall touch a man's throat, and the red blood run-- One drop, for old religion's sake. In this Shall live that old red rite of Artemis. And them, Iphigenia, by the stair Of Brauron in the rocks, the Key shalt bear Of Artemis. There shalt thou live and die, And there have burial. And a gift shall lie Above thy shrine, fair raiment undefiled Left upon earth by mothers dead with child.

Ye last, O exiled women, true of heart And faithful found, ye shall in peace depart, Each to her home: behold Athena's will.

Orestes, long ago on Ares' Hill I saved thee, when the votes of Death and Life Lay equal: and henceforth, when men at strife So stand, mid equal votes of Life and Death, My law shall hold that Mercy conquereth. Begone. Lead forth thy sister from this shore In peace; and thou, Thoas, be wroth no more.

THOAS. Most high Athena, he who bows not low His head to God's word spoken, I scarce know How such an one doth live. Orestes hath Fled with mine Image hence ... I bear no wrath. Nor yet against his sister. There is naught, Methinks, of honour in a battle fought 'Gainst gods. The strength is theirs. Let those two fare Forth to thy land and plant mine Image there. I wish them well.

These bondwomen no less I will send free to Greece and happiness, And stay my galleys' oars, and bid this brand Be sheathed again, Goddess, at thy command.

ATHENA. 'Tis well, O King. For that which needs must be Holdeth the high gods as it holdeth thee.

Winds of the north, O winds that laugh and run, Bear now to Athens Agamemnon's son: Myself am with you, o'er long leagues of foam Guiding my sister's hallowed Image home.

[she floats away.]

CHORUS. SOME WOMEN.

Go forth in bliss, O ye whose lot God shieldeth, that ye perish not!

OTHERS.

O great in our dull world of clay, And great in heaven's undying gleam, Pallas, thy bidding we obey: And bless thee, for mine ears have heard The joy and wonder of a word Beyond my dream, beyond my dream.

NOTES TO IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS

P. 3, 1. 1.--Oenomaus, King of Elis, offered his daughter and his kingdom to any man who should beat him in a chariot race; those who failed he slew. Pelops challenged him and won the race through a trick of his servant, Myrtilus, who treacherously took the linchpins out of Oenomaus's chariot. Oenomaus was thrown out and killed; Pelops took the kingdom, but in remorse or indignation threw Myrtilus into the sea (1. 192, p. 11). In some stories Oenomaus killed the suitors by spearing them from behind when they passed him. Pelops was the son of Tantalus, renowned for his pride and its punishment.

P. 3, 1. 8, For Helen's sake.--i.e. in order to win Helen back from the Trojans.

P. 4, 1. 23, Whatever birth most fair.--Artemis Kalliste ("Most Fair") was apparently so called because, after a competition for beauty, that which won the prize ([Greek Text]) was selected and given to her. This rite is made by the story to lead to a sacrifice of the fairest maiden, and may very possibly have sometimes done so.

P. 4, 1. 42.--She tells her dream to the sky to get it off her mind, much as the Nurse does in the Medea (p. 5,1.57).

P. 5, 1. 50, One ... pillar.--It is worth remembering that a pillar was among the earliest objects of worship in Crete and elsewhere. Cf. "the pillared sanctities" (1. 128, p. 9) and the "blood on the pillars" (1. 405, p. 20).

P. 8, 1. 113, A hollow one might creep through.--The metopes, or gaps between the beams. The Temple was therefore of a primitive Dorian type.

P. 8, 11. 124-125.--The land of Tauris is conceived as being beyond the Symplegades, or, as here, as being the country of the Symplegades.

As these semi-mythical names settled down in history, Tauris became the Crimea, the Symplegades, or "Clashing Rocks," or "Dark- Blue Rocks," became two rocks at the upper end of the Bosphorus, and the Friendless or Strangerless Sea became the Euxine. The word Axeinos, "Friendless," has often been altered in the MSS. of this play to Euxeinos, "Hospitable," which was the ordinary prose name of the Black Sea in historical times.

P. 9, l. 133, The horses and the towers.--The steppes of the Taurians would have no gardens or city walls, but it is curious that Hellas should seem specially a land of horses by comparison. Cf. p. 86, l. 1423, where Thoas has horses.

P. 10, l. 168, The golden goblet, &c.--She evidently takes jars of libation from the Attendants and pours them during the next few lines into some Eschara, or Altar for the Dead. Most of the rite would probably be performed kneeling.

P. 11, ll. 192 ff., The dark and wheeling coursers.--i.e. those of Pelops. The cry of one betrayed: Myrtilus, when he was thrown into the sea. (See on l. 1.) For the Golden Lamb and the Sun turning in Heaven, see my translation of Electra, p. 47, l. 699 and note.

P. 12, l. 217, The Nereid's Son.--Achilles, son of Peleus and the Nereid Thetis.

P. 13, l. 238, The Herdsman's entrance.--Observe how Iphigenia is first merely disturbed in her obsequies: then comes the sickening news that there are strangers to sacrifice: then lastly, her worst fear is realised; the men are Greeks. This explains her exasperated tone in l. 254, "The sea! What is the sea ..." and "Go back!"--The Herdsman is merely jubilant and obtuse.

P. 15, l. 263.--The murex or purple-fish could only be collected in very late autumn or early spring; consequently the fishers made encampments for the winter and returned to Tyre and Sidon, or wherever else they came from, after the spring fishing. See Berard, Pheniciens et Odyssee, i. 415.

P. 15, 1. 270, Son of the White Sea Spirit, &c.--The man is, of course, made to use the names of Greek not of Taurian gods. He thinks first of Palaemon, a sea-god, son of Leucothea ("White- Goddess"), then of the Dioskori, Castor and Polydeuces; then vaguely of some spirits beloved of Nereus, the Ancient of the Sea.

P. 17, 1. 328 f., Of all those shots not one struck home.--The object of this statement must be to explain why the two heroes do not make their appearance bruised and dishevelled as the Second Messenger does after his fight with the Greeks. Of course there is no great harm in making the Taurians bad shots as well as cowards, and possibly there is some value in the suggestion of a supernatural protection which is only saving its object for a crueller death. But very likely the two lines are interpolations.

Pp. 17, 18, 11. 342 ff.--A wonderful speech, illustrating the gradual breaking-up of the ice in Iphigenia's nature.--The Herdsman's story has, of course, been horrible to her; all the more so because he expects her to enjoy it and recalls wild words she has uttered in the past, when brooding on her wrongs. She controls her feelings absolutely till the man is gone. Then she feels like one turned to stone, pitiless; then, if only it were Helen or Menelaus that she had to kill! Then vivid thoughts of the misery and horror of Aulis and the poor foolish hopes and tremors in which she had come there; then the thought that Orestes, the one man whom she could love without resentment, is dead. Then a rage of indignation against the bloody rites and the infamy of the thing she has to do. She goes into the Temple broken in nerve and almost ready for rebellion.

P. 19, 11. 385 ff.--Leto, beloved of Zeus, was the mother of Artemis and Apollo, who were born in the holy island of Delos.-- One legend, already rejected by Pindar, said that the crime of Tantalus was that he had given his child Pelops to the gods to eat.

P. 19, 1. 392, Dark of the sea.--The Dark-Blue of the Symplegades is meant. Sometimes it is only the Argo that has ever passed through them; here it is only Io, daughter of Inachus, loved by Zeus and hunted by the gadfly, who fled outcast through the East. Her story is told in Aeschylus' Prometheus and in a magnificent chorus of his Suppliant Women. (See Rise of the Greek Epic, pp. 247 ff.)

The present lyric begins by wondering how and why the strangers have come: then come thoughts of the voyage and places they must have passed; the coast, where Phineus was haunted by the Harpies, the enchanted sea beyond the Symplegades, and the mysterious Isle of Leuce ("White") where Achilles lives after death.--Then comes a thought of Iphigenia's longing for revenge on Helen: but revenge is no use. It is home they crave, or, if that is impossible, then sleep and dreams of home.

P. 21, 1. 431, The steering oar abaft;--The steering was done by an oar, or sometimes two oars, projecting into the sea from a hole in the stern. Cf. 1. 1356, p. 83, "And through the stern dragged out the steering-blade." If this oar was left free, it would ripple and beat against the side.

P. 23, 1. 472, What mother then was yours, &c.--Not very like a woman "turned to stone" or "without a tear." She had miscalculated her own feelings.--Observe how Orestes sternly rejects her sentimental sympathy. He needs all his strength.

P. 25, 1. 512, A kind of banishment.--He was driven by his Furies, not legally banished.

Pp. 26, 27, 11. 515 and 529, "Oh how sweet to see thee here!" and "Oh, give me this hour full. Thou wilt soon die."--Iphigenia is more than tactless. She is so starving for home or anything that brings her into touch with home, that neither this Stranger's death nor anything else matters to her in comparison. A fine dramatic stroke.

The people of whom she asks are, first, her enemies--Helen; Calchas, the prophet, who had commanded her sacrifice; Odysseus, who had devised the plot by which she was brought to Aulis (11. 16, 24); then Achilles, who had been the hero of her dreams; then, with fear and hesitancy, those for whom she cares most.--Observe, at 1. 553, how, on hearing of her father's murder, her first thought is pity for her mother. Her father is already in her mind "he that slew." But in every line of this dialogue there is fine drama and psychology.

P. 28, 1. 538, "Small help his bridal brought him; he is dead."-- It has been thought curious that the mention of Achilles should immediately suggest to Orestes the bridal at Aulis, though of course it does so to Iphigenia. But after all it was Orestes' sister that Achilles was to marry at Aulis; and secondly, a large part of Orestes' troubles came from the carrying off of his betrothed, Hermione, by Achilles' bastard son, Pyrrhus. If the marriage at Aulis had taken place and Achilles left a true-born son, that would all have been different.

P. 31, 1. 569, Light dreams farewell! Ye too were lies.--This does seem a wrong conclusion. The dreams only suggested that Orestes had died the day before, long after this man had left Argos. But perhaps it is not unnatural.

P. 32, 11. 576 f., We too have kinsmen dear.--A most characteristic Euripidean saying. It also leads up to the personal interest in the Chorus which we feel after 1. 1075, p. 63, when they are taken into the conspiracy and then abandoned.

P. 32, 1. 578, Listen; for I am fallen upon a thought.--It must not be supposed that this use of the tablet is an obvious or easy thing. It is a daring project that crosses her mind, as one possible way of avoiding the death of this Stranger. Her hesitation at 1. 742--where a pause is indicated in the Greek-- shows that she is only trusting to her special influence over the King to get him to relax the law. Presumably merchants sometimes were admitted to the Tauri; for instance, those who brought the Chorus. The safe way to use the tablet would have been to make sure of the friendship of one of these. But such questions lie outside the play.

P. 34, 1. 618, This altar's spell is over me.--I translate the MS. reading [Greek text]. In my text I accepted the usual emendation [Greek text]. But [Greek text] means "spell" or "infection." See Rise of the Greek Epic, p. 86.

P. 34, 1. 627, My sister's hand.--i.e. Electra's.