Andromache - Gilbert Murray (best books to read for success .TXT) 📗

ANDROMACHE

BY THE SAME AUTHOR
UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME
Paper, 1s. 6d.; Cloth, 2s. 6d.
CARLYON SAHIB
A Drama in Four Acts
——
London: William Heinemann
21 Bedford Street, W.C.

ANDROMACHE

A PLAY   
In Three Acts

By

GILBERT MURRAY

LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN
    MDCCCC

All rights, including Acting rights in the
English Language, reserved

Prefatory Letter
Dramatis Personæ
The First Act
The Second Act
The Third Act

PREFATORY LETTER.

My Dear ARCHER,
The germ of this play sprang into existence on a certain April day in 1896 which you and I spent chiefly in dragging our reluctant bicycles up the great hills that surround Riveaulx Abbey, and discussing, so far as the blinding rain allowed us, the questions whether all sincere comedies are of necessity cynical, and how often we had had tea since the morning, and how far it would be possible to treat a historical subject loyally and unconventionally on a modern stage. Then we struck (as, I fear, is too often the fate of those who converse with me) on the subject of the lost plays of the Greek tragedians. We talked of the extraordinary variety of plot that the Greek dramatist found in his historical tradition, the force, the fire, the depth and richness of character-play. We thought of the marvellous dramatic possibilities of an age in which actual and living heroes and sages were to be seen moving against a background of primitive superstition and blank savagery; in which the soul of man walked more free from trappings than seems ever to have been permitted to it since. But I must stop; I see that I am approaching the common pitfall of playwrights who venture upon prefaces, and am beginning to prove how good my play ought to be!

What I want to remind you of is this: that we agreed that a simple historical play, with as little convention as possible, placed in the Greek Heroic Age, and dealing with one of the ordinary heroic stories, ought to be, well, an interesting experiment. Beyond this point, I know, we began to differ. You wanted verse and the Greece of the English poets. I wanted, above all things, a nearer approach to my conception of the real Greece, the Greece of history and even—dare I say it?—of anthropology! I recognise your full right to disapprove of every word and every sentiment of this play from the first to the last, but I hope you will not grudge me the pleasure of associating your name with at least the inception of the experiment, and thanking you at the same time for the many gifts of friendly encouragement and stimulating objurgation which you have bestowed upon

Yours sincerely,            
GILBERT MURRAY.

  January 1900.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ Pyrrhus
Son of Achilles; King of Phthia.
Andromache
  Once wife of Hector, Prince of
        Troy; now slave to Pyrrhus.
Hermione
  Daughter of Helen, Queen of Sparta;
        wife to Pyrrhus.
Molossus
Child of Pyrrhus and Andromache.
Alcimedon or Alcimus
An old Captain of Achilles' Myrmidons.
Orestes
 
 
  Son of Agamemnon, King of
        Mycenæ; now banished for
        the slaying of his mother,
        Clytæmnestra.
Pylades
  A Prince of Phocis, friend to
        Orestes.
A Priest of Thetis
 
Two Maids of Hermione
 

Certain Maidens, Myrmidons, Men-at-Arms.

The Action takes place in Phthia, on the Southern borders of Thessaly, about fifteen years after the Fall of Troy.

ANDROMACHE

THE FIRST ACT

Scene: The coast of Phthia. Rocks at the back, with the sea visible behind them. One of the rocks is a shrine, having niches cut in it for receiving offerings. On the right in front is the Altar of Thetis, shrouded in trees; to the left, a well. A path to the left leads to Pyrrhus' castle; another, far back to the right, leads to the house of the Priest. It is the morning twilight, with a faint glimmer of dawn.

At the foot of the rock Orestes is seated in meditation; he carries two spears, and wears the garb of a traveller. An Armed Man is moving off the stage at the back, as though going towards the sea; he stops suddenly, listens, and hides behind a rock.

Enter, coming up from the sea, Pylades, armed.
The Man steps out.

Man.

My lord Pylades.

Pylades.

Where have you left him?

Man.

Yonder, by the shrine. He bade me go back to the ship.

Pylades.

[Crossing to Orestes.]  Is it too late to turn your purpose?

Orestes.

[As though half roused from his reverie.]  I seek only to see if she is indeed so passing beautiful. She was; I am sure she was, until—— [He pauses.

Pylades.

Let me go first and spy out a way for you.

Orestes.

[With sudden resentment.]  You think I am still mad!

Pylades.

Nay, no more mad than I, but more quick to anger. It would be safer for me to go.

Orestes.

You think I am still mad because I dared not say it! I will say it here by the altar.  [Doggedly.]  I will see if she is still as she used to be before the day when—[with effort]—I shed my mother's blood, and first saw——

Pylades.

Speak not Their name, brother. You did nought but the gods' plain bidding. You see them no more now that you are healed.

Orestes.

'Twas you that feared to name them, not I!

Pylades.

Nay, you fear nothing; that is why I must fear for you.

Orestes.

What is there to fear for me? Most like I shall come back just as I am.

Pylades.

That is the one thing that cannot be!

Orestes.

[Musingly.]  If she is changed as all the world else is changed since that time——  [Abruptly.]  I care not for the woman. I will come back. If not—— [Smiles ambiguously.

Pylades.

But why go alone, and why venture so much? We two could lie hid in the thickets by the shrine yonder, and see her when the women come to pray at sunrise. And then——

Orestes.

[With determination, interrupting him.]  I will go alone, and see her and speak with her alone! Hinder me not, friend! Leave no man to watch over me. Keep the ship well hidden, and have twoscore men ambushed above the cliff, to hold the path if need comes.

Pylades.

There shall be fourscore ever ready to your call, night or day.

Man.

[Coming down from path at back.]  My chief, the dawn is drawing close.

Orestes.

Ay, get you gone before any worshippers come.

Pylades.

As you will, then. And Apollo be your guard!

[Exeunt Pylades and Armed Man. Orestes wraps his mantle round him and sits in silence.

Enter from the right, Priest of Thetis, with a bowl in his hands. He climbs a rock at the back and watches the sunrise.

Priest.

Not yet. Not quite yet. Ah, there it catches the crag-top: now the trees:—yes, there is the glint far off upon the sea!  [Comes down towards the shrine and prays.]  Hail, Thetis! Accept this wine and honey I bring thee at first touch of dawn. Keep thy Priest in wealth and honour, even as I keep thy worship. And, as the sunlight drives the Things of darkness from thy waters——  [Seeing Orestes.]  Averter of evil! Who is this that has sat through the darkness under the Holy Rock? Stranger, whence come you here?

Orestes.

From Acarnania. Have I sinned in resting here?

Priest.

No man of Phthia, for his life, would stay here in darkness! Saw you not anything?

Orestes.

What should I see?

Priest.

No changing manifold shapes, as of women or winged things?

Orestes.

[Harshly.]  I saw nought but what I have seen on a thousand nights. Enough! If I have offended any goddess I will make amends.

[He begins to wring off a pendant from a gold chain that he wears, and moves towards the altar.

Priest.

Stay! There is no blood upon your hands?

Orestes.

I have slain a man.

Priest.

How long since? Is the stain washed off?

Orestes.

Oh, I have been purified and purified!

Priest.

Duly and fully—with hyssop and the blood of swine?

Orestes.

With better sacrifices than swine! I am clean enough to make amends to your goddess.  [Coming across to the shrine.]  Where shall I lay it? For I may need her favour. [Holds out the gold pendant.

Priest.

[Surprised.]  Gold! Stranger, it is well to give gold to Thetis, but——

Orestes.

Well, I give it to Thetis!

Priest.

Scarce a man in Phthia has ever touched gold, save Pyrrhus himself and the servants of Hermione. Nor many, I should guess, in Acarnania.

Orestes.

A banished man must have his wealth in little compass.

Priest.

A chain like that should buy an exile's return.

Orestes.

I care not to return.

Priest.

Are the friends of the dead so bitter against you?

Orestes.

The friends of the dead are dead, and my friends are dead. I have none to fear; but I have been wronged, my house taken from me, and my father's wealth, and the woman that was vowed me to wife. No more, old man! I am an exile, and I live in happier lands than mine own.

Priest.

Is it in Phthia you seek for a happy land? No matter; affliction comes to the good as to the evil.

Orestes.

Why, what ails your city, if a stranger may know?

Priest.

See you that shrine, and the footprint of Thetis in the rock? Once it was all covered with offerings!

Orestes.

It is not so well loaded, nor yet so ill. Is there no worse than that?

Priest.

Worse? Barren fields and a barren queen, and hatred in the house of Achilles!

Orestes.

Is it some sin the King has done?

Priest.

The King and a woman.

Orestes.

[Starting.]  Has that sin met its punishment? Speak plainly, Priest.

Priest.

Long years ago, Pyrrhus brought back from Troy a slave woman to share his bed.

Orestes.

[As though reassured.]  Hector's wife, Andromache, men say.

Priest.

The wife of his father's bitterest enemy! Ay, and she was his enemy too, and loathed her life with Pyrrhus.

Orestes.

They all struggle, these women captives. But what harm came of it?

Priest.

She is a foe to the land and to Thetis!

Orestes.

But has he not cast her off?  [With constraint.]  Men say he has wedded a new Queen, the daughter of Helen.

Priest.

Oh, the Trojan has not dwelt in the King's house these ten years back. She begged him for a hut in the mountain, and he gave it her.

Orestes.

She begged to be sent away! How was that?

Priest.

Why should a woman wish to live in secret, and not be seen?  [Slight pause.]  There be wise women among the barbarians.

Orestes.

Wise in bad drugs and magic; I know no other wisdom in them.

Priest.

You have said it! There is a prophet here who knows of counter-charms—I gave him three ewes for this that I wear—[showing a charm made of wolves' teeth]—else I durst not