Triptych and Iphigenia Page 5

  Iphigenia in Aulis is the least performed of his plays, having been described by ongoing scholars as being picturesque, burlesque, and in the vein of “New Comedy.” Nothing could be further from the truth. The story is glaringly stark—Agamemnon, head of an oligarchic army, who has lived for power and conquest, is asked to sacrifice that which he loves most, his daughter Iphigenia. He demurs but we know that the lust for glory will prevail and yet in Euripides’ drama, each voice, each need, each nuance is beautifully and thoroughly rendered. Iphigenia is for the chop but at the moment when her little universe is shattered, when she realizes that she is being betrayed by both God and man, she pitches herself into an exalted mental realm, the realm of the martyr-mystic who is prepared to die but not to kill for her country. It is of course, as probably in the myth surrounding Joan of Arc, a heightened, histrionic moment which pitches its heroine in the ranks of the immortals. If one of the prerogatives of art is to catapult an audience from the base to the sublime, from the rotten to the unrotten, from the hating to the non-hating, then Iphigenia does that, but her sacrifice prefigures a more hideous fate. The catharsis is brief, as the grand mechanism of war and slaughter has been set in place. Clytemnestra, the mother, helpless to avert her daughter’s death, becomes an avenging fiend and ten years hence, when Agamemnon, victorious from Troy, will return with his Trojan concubine, the crazed prophetess Cassandra, he will meet a gory end at the hands of Clytemnestra and her paramour Aegisthus.

  After his death in 408 BC three plays by Euripides were found—Iphigenia in Aulis, Alcmaeon, and The Bacchanals and were put on the stage by his son, Euripides III. Iphigenia was incomplete and finished by another hand. The other hand is what gives the play as we know it a false and substanseless ending. At the very last moment the sacrifice is aborted, Iphigenia whisked away and a deer put lying on the ground, the altar sprinkled with the necessary blood. It seems unthinkable that an artist of Euripides’ unflinching integrity, with a depth and mercilessness of sensibility, would soften his powerful story for public palliation.

  History has righted his standing. The Latin poets Virgil, Horace, and Ovid all acknowledged their debt to him, Plutarch would boast that he knew the plays by heart, and Goëthe devoted himself to reconstructing several of his plays from fragments. He now is recognized as the greatest of that triad of Athenian giants and even his fellow countryman Aristotle, after much carping, crowned him “that most tragic of poets.”

  Edna O’Brien

  January 2003

  For Michael Straughan who brought it to light

  Iphigenia premiered at the Crucible Theatre, Sheffield on February 5, 2003. The cast was as follows:

  WITCH/NURSE Joanna Bacon

  CALCHAS/MENELAUS John Marquez

  OLD MAN Jack Carr

  AGAMEMNON Lloyd Owen

  SIXTH GIRL Charlotte Randle

  IPHIGENIA Lisa Dillon

  CLYTEMNESTRA Susan Brown

  MESSENGER Dominic Charles-Rouse

  ACHILLES Ben Price

  Director Anna Mackmin

  Designer Hayden Griffen

  Lighting Oliver Fenwick

  Composers Ben Ellin, Terry Davies

  Sound Designer Huw Williams

  Choreographer Scarlett Mackmin

  SCENE ONE

  A night scene, windless, hushed.

  A starlit sky.

  A high wall with ladders.

  WITCH Great Zeus stopped the winds and why. He sends winds to other men’s expeditions, winds of sorrow, winds of hardship, winds to set sail, winds to drop sail, and winds of waiting but here upon the black and blasted straits of Aulis he sends no winds and an angry fleet keep asking why are we waiting, why is King Agamemnon hiding from us in his tent—because, because King Agamemnon, marshall of the fleet, made a vow to the goddess, Artemis of the sacred grove, a promise that he reneged on. Disastrous calm has driven him to augury, to Calchas the prophet who scans the flight of birds.

  Spotlight on CALCHAS the prophet.

  On the opposite side AGAMEMNON emerges from his tent.

  The WITCH hides under the wall to listen.

  CALCHAS King Agamemnon—to Artemis, goddess of the moon, you vowed that you would sacrifice the most beautiful you knew. You shall not unmoor your ships until you pay your dues. Your wife Clytemnestra has a child Iphigenia who in all the radiance of young beauty has been selected by the goddess Artemis to be offered in sacrifice in order that the Greek ships can leave these narrow straits for the towers and battlements of Troy. Then and only then will amorous Helen be restored to her husband Menelaus, Troy in ashes, her nobles slaughtered, her women slave women, to bring home here to Argos and plentitude of spoils.

  AGAMEMNON My daughter, the jewel of my heart … no and no and no again.

  CALCHAS Her mother Clytemnestra must bring her here, intended as a bride for swift-footed Achilles, son of goddess Thetis, nurtured in the watery waves.

  AGAMEMNON You think I would deceive my wife and child.

  CALCHAS The gods think it.

  AGAMEMNON Be gone, you old werewolf.

  CALCHAS Your daughter’s death ensures victory for Greece.

  AGAMEMNON Unspeakable … unthinkable …

  CALCHAS In time of war, unspeakable, unthinkable things are done. For the sake of the gods and for our land thus blasted with misfortune, send for her at once and sacrifice her on the altar of divinity.

  AGAMEMNON Who else have you spoken to of this hatching?

  CALCHAS Your brother Menelaus and Odysseus of the House of Athens. The goddess Artemis, lovely lady of the woodland and the forest, is growing impatient and your men wrathful at such long waiting.

  AGAMEMNON I will not do it.

  CALCHAS It will be done.

  Calchas goes.

  Agamemnon stands. When he turns, the Witch is in front of him.

  WITCH Hail, Agamemnon, the sacker of cities … the child shall have garlands put upon her head and sprinklings of lustral water. She comes to nourish with the drops of flowing blood the altar of the divine goddess from her own throat, her lovely body’s throat. And grant that Agamemnon may wreathe the Hellene lances with a crown of fame and his own brows with the imperishable glory.

  Agamemnon goes.

  An OLD MAN who has overheard pulls himself up from under the wall.

  OLD MAN Dark. Darkness. The story goes of how Atreus, father of Agamemnon, had his brother’s children foully and horribly slain, then boiled and served up at a banquet, all this, so that his own progeny, so that Agamemnon might rule. No one is safe. A curse is a curse. I was given as a young man with his wife Clytemnestra in all her dazzlement. I saw so much, too much. Oh, the passions, the passions; yet from great houses both were sprung.

  Five wild YOUNG GIRLS rush in, drenched, laughing.

  GIRL ONE We have come through the pouring waters to see the long ships, the chariots, the dappled horses, and the spear men delighting in the throw of the discus.

  GIRL TWO Odysseus, son of Laertes, the chieftain Adrastus, earth-born Leitus, raging Menelaus that …

  GIRL THREE … lost Helen to Paris the herdsman, on the mount of Ida, lured her away he did with his waxen barbarian pipe and took her to Troy.

  GIRL TWO And Achilles, a marvel to mortals.

  GIRL ONE To glut our women’s eyes.

  OLD MAN Where are your husbands?

  GIRL ONE At home.

  GIRL THREE They take their pleasure at the draughts board.

  They start to climb the ladders.

  OLD MAN Harlots. Harlots.

  Agamemnon comes out holding a book-shaped pine tablet.

  AGAMEMNON Gone. Gone is every hope I had of sweetness.

  He signals to a Messenger.

  AGAMEMNON Take this to my wife. Give it into her own hands. Answer no questions. Tell her to do as I command. They are awaited here and she is to bring the dowry gifts for Iphigenia to be married to Achilles. Go. Go.

  The Messenger goes.

  OLD MAN My master, the will
of the gods has swerved against you.

  AGAMEMNON And made me wretched.

  OLD MAN A king is a mortal too. Power is power, but close neighbor to grief.

  AGAMEMNON What would you do if it were your daughter?

  OLD MAN My tongue dare not answer that. A brave deed, yet a fearsome one. The child will need to pray at the shrines along the way.

  AGAMEMNON (gravely) She will.

  The Old Man goes.

  A SIXTH GIRL enters.

  AGAMEMNON (to the constellations) What star are you and you and you? Do you shine into my child’s bedroom where she sleeps innocent of all that will befall her? Send her a dream, tell her not to come here, tell her in language that befits her unschooled ears.

  He crosses to a single star.

  AGAMEMNON (cont.) And what star are you?

  SIXTH GIRL Sirius … still high in the heavens.

  Agamemnon turns sharply.

  AGAMEMNON Who are you?

  SIXTH GIRL A stranger woman. Sirius … sailing near the seven Pleiads the sisters, seven in number, Electra, Maia, Taygete, Alcyone, Merope, Celaeno, Sterope, whom Orion pursued, but they fled before him and Zeus, pitying them, placed them in the heavens. Only six are ever seen … the seventh hides in the bosom of the sky.

  AGAMEMNON Come here for what?

  SIXTH GIRL For what I find.

  AGAMEMNON Where is your husband?

  SIXTH GIRL Dead. Killed in the first strike of the war … on a small boat … sent out to reconnoiter in answer to the command of raging Menelaus. Goaded to frenzy on account of losing Helen.

  AGAMEMNON A good husband?

  SIXTH GIRL A soldier good and bad.

  AGAMEMNON So you have heard of Helen.

  SIXTH GIRL Of course. The legend of how young men went as suitors to Sparta … all desiring her … each one threatened to murder the other if he was successful, so when Menelaus of the House of Atreus won her, he made a pact with all the others that if she should ever be taken, they would all band together and fight. But Paris with Aphrodite’s help put the dart of love into her on Ida’s mountain among the white heifers and brought her thence to Troy. It is why we are at war and why the thousand ships out there are manned for passage. They say that even old Hector, the father of Paris, worships her … walks with her in the palace halls, bowing and discoursing like a young gallant.

  AGAMEMNON But you would see her dead for your husband’s sake.

  SIXTH GIRL I would not. I would curry favor with her and verse myself in all her wiles. Women can learn marvelous things from captivating women. I have told you my history … tell me yours … away from the main fleet … here in your own quarters … you must be high up.

  AGAMEMNON Would you like me to say that I am?

  SIXTH GIRL Of course.

  AGAMEMNON That I am King?

  SIXTH GIRL Of course … every woman desires a king.

  AGAMEMNON Do they speak of King Agamemnon in your village?

  SIXTH GIRL Ah no. The women speak of Achilles, the handsomest of all the Achaeans, who races in full armor on sand and shingle, racing against a four-horse chariot, lap after lap until the horses fall down in defeat.

  AGAMEMNON Which would you rather look on, Achilles or the King?

  SIXTH GIRL It depends. It may be that the King is old and past his prime.

  AGAMEMNON What if I said that I were King?

  SIXTH GIRL You, him? I would fall at your feet. King Agamemnon, leader of the Armada … supreme maneuverer of ships … respected in heaven … worshipped on earth … born for greatness … for war … for love of women … O great one … far from home … no soft bed … to lay your limbs on … turning this way and that in the night … duties to weigh you down … do you not sometimes wish you were a common man?

  AGAMEMNON I wish it now.

  SIXTH GIRL So we are equals.

  He picks her up. In that embrace they go.

  Off-stage the sounds of very young girls singing and playing a noisy game.

  SCENE TWO

  Early morning.

  IPHIGENIA’s chamber, where she and five Girls (two of whom are her sisters) are having a pillow fight. They speak in a made-up inexplicable language, running in and out, the feathers from the pillows falling through the air.

  A NURSE comes in.

  NURSE The Queen. The Queen.

  They stop instantly.

  CLYTEMNESTRA enters.

  IPHIGENIA We’re sorry.

  CLYTEMNESTRA Sorry?

  IPHIGENIA We won’t do it again … we got carried away.

  CLYTEMNESTRA Dress yourself.

  IPHIGENIA Oh, Mother … it’s only fun.

  CLYTEMNESTRA Your father wishes you at Aulis. We are to leave immediately.

  SISTER We are!

  CLYTEMNESTRA Not you.

  IPHIGENIA I knew Father would miss me … every night just before I sleep I say to the brightest star—“Please tell the King that Iphigenia misses him and is very lonely in this big palace without him … tell him to come home.”

  CLYTEMNESTRA Dress yourself.

  IPHIGENIA Mother … I would miss you almost as much. Did you not sleep … had you a bad dream?

  CLYTEMNESTRA You are to be married.

  NURSE Praise be to Zeus, Pelius, Hera, and Aphrodite.

  CLYTEMNESTRA To Achilles of Thessaly.

  IPHIGENIA Who is he?

  NURSE Son of the goddess Thetis and a mortal father Peleus, nurtured in the watery waves of the sea.

  IPHIGENIA Is it true, Mother?

  CLYTEMNESTRA The letter says so.

  IPHIGENIA Why has he chosen me … he’s never seen me.

  CLYTEMNESTRA You are a king’s daughter … that is enough.

  IPHIGENIA And I will take my stand in the dances and the nuptial feast … whirling round and round for three days and three nights … Achilles will be in his own tent and on the fourth morning he will be led to me and I will sit there veiled until my bridesmaid slowly lifts it and Achilles gazes into my eyes. I wonder what color eyes he has.

  NURSE Sea eyes, no color and every color.

  SISTER Can I come?

  CLYTEMNESTRA No … Iphigenia and baby Orestes and I will travel … the rest of you remain here.

  SISTER She gets everything.

  CLYTEMNESTRA You will have a husband, in time.

  SISTER I want him now.

  NURSE Hush, child, hush … this is her hour.

  Clytemnestra goes.

  The Nurse unfolds a corset. Iphigenia lifts her arms for her nightgown to be taken off, the Nurse pulling tightly on the corset strings.

  IPHIGENIA Ouch. Ouch. I can’t breathe …

  SISTER What does he look like?

  Nurse continues dressing Iphigenia.

  NURSE He has a coat of arms made of gold, given him by his mother. The story is known throughout, in Lesbos, Tenedos, Chryses, and Cilla, in all Apollo’s cities and Skyrus too, how the nereid who was his mother took him down as a baby to the River Styx and submerged him in the water to protect him from all injury and so he was except for the little heel which she had held him by … then fearing he might be killed in the wars she had him dressed as a girl and hid him in the palace of a king who was her friend, where he lived among the king’s daughters, but, one day a peddler came in to the palace forecourt with a tray of trinkets, ribbons, and scarves plus a spear and a shield and while all the girls loved the fallals, Achilles picked up the spear and the peddler, who was really the scheming Odysseus dressed in rags, saw the young boy’s excitement and had a servant shout out an alarm to say the palace was under attack, whereupon Achilles tore off his woman’s clothing and rushed to defend the gates and so Odysseus knew he had come to the right palace and Achilles was recruited into the Greek army, given noble rank and a vast host to command.

  IPHIGENIA He might change his mind when he sees me.

  NURSE Fate, my little one … the tiny threads of fate from heaven’s loom, ordained this … This.

  GIRL What else, n
urse?

  NURSE They say, that at the sight of him hearts are transformed.

  GIRL How?

  NURSE I daren’t say.

  IPHIGENIA How?

  NURSE I lack the words, child.

  GIRL What else?

  NURSE His taste is to be solitary … he only shows himself for the tournaments and the championships and he always wins, being half a god.

  IPHIGENIA Will you miss me?

  NURSE More than I would my own children. The night you were born a rayon of gold shot across the sky, my name was the first name you said … not your noble mother Clytemnestra and not your noble father Agamemnon.

  Sister One has taken out a veil yards long, is winding it around herself, both showing off and treading on it.

  The Nurse rushes and takes it back.

  NURSE You mustn’t tear it … it’s her wedding veil … it’s sacred.

  SISTER ONE Achilles might prefer me to her.

  GIRL ONE You’re jealous.

  SISTER ONE It’s you that said she was a sly one coaxing the Queen.

  GIRL ONE I did not.

  Iphigenia lets out a cry—her menstrual blood has started to flow, running down her legs.

  SISTER ONE Oh, look. Look.

  NURSE Sweet Iphigenia … sweetest Iphigenia … you mustn’t cry … this husband of yours has secured the rarest prize … a girl just become a woman … a treasure.

  The Nurse rocks Iphigenia in her arms and sings a soft lullaby as she leads her away.

  The Girls lie on the floor on their bellies and one starts a pre-wedding hymn, gradually the others join in and slowly with balletic precision they make their way on their bellies along the stage and off.

  Change of light.

  Two CHORUS GIRLS enter.

  CHORUS GIRL ONE