Diminutive dramas

Scene.—Agamemnon’s tent at Aulis. Discovered: Agamemnon seated at a camp table writing.

Enter Iphigenia

Iphigenia. Do you want to speak to me, papa?

Agamemnon (nervously). Yes, yes, a moment. (A pause.)

Iphigenia. Well?

Agamemnon. Sit down—on that chair—it’s more comfortable there.... I ... er.... (A pause.)

Iphigenia. If you’ve got nothing particular to say, papa, I’ll go, if you don’t mind; because mamma wants me to help her with the dinner. The cook is quite helpless——

Agamemnon. Wait a minute. I do want to speak to you very particularly.... (A pause.)... It’s a lovely day again to-day.

Iphigenia. Really, papa——

Agamemnon. It’s not so irrelevant as you think. You see, there’s not a breath of wind.

Iphigenia. I know. They say it’s quite impossible for you to start.

Agamemnon. We shall have been here two months next Tuesday.

Iphigenia. You mean next Saturday.

Agamemnon. Tuesday or Saturday, it’s all the same.

Iphigenia. It’s a mercy we did stop here. Mamma says that your linen was in a dreadful state, and that if she hadn’t come out she doesn’t know how you would have managed.

Agamemnon. Yes, I don’t say that the stay hasn’t been of some use; but now it is absolutely essential that we should get to Troy.

Iphigenia. Why don’t you start to-day?

Agamemnon. Whenever we put to sea there’s either no wind at all, or a gale which drives us straight back home.

Iphigenia. It is very tiresome, but it can’t be helped, can it?

Agamemnon. Well, that’s just it. I’m afraid it can be helped.

Iphigenia. What do you mean, papa?

Agamemnon. To cut a long story short, Calchas consulted the Oracle this morning, and it appears, he says, I mean the Oracle said, or rather the goddess——

Iphigenia. Which goddess?

Agamemnon. Artemis.

Iphigenia. Oh, she’s impossible.

Agamemnon. Well, as I told you, Calchas says that it is Artemis who is causing the delay by sending us adverse winds, and——

Iphigenia. Can’t something be done?

Agamemnon. That is precisely the point. The goddess has, through the Oracle, suggested a way out of the difficulty, and it concerns you.

Iphigenia. Me? What can I have to do with it?

Agamemnon. Now, my dearest Iphigenia, I want you to be reasonable. You always were a sensible girl, and I want you to bring all your good sense to bear on this ... in this ... er ... trying occasion.

Iphigenia. I don’t understand.

Agamemnon. I will go straight to the point. Artemis says that we shall never leave Aulis unless you consent to go through the form of being sacrificed to her.

Iphigenia. What do you mean by “going through the form”?

Agamemnon. I mean that in all probability ... in fact, quite certainly, the sacrifice would be purely a formal one, and that there is every chance ... in fact, I may say it is almost certain that one of the other gods or goddesses would intervene at the last moment and prevent the sacrifice from being fatal.

Iphigenia. You mean to say that there is not the slightest chance of my being killed—that it’s only a farce?

Agamemnon. I won’t go so far as that ... but I will say that as far as we know every precedent in the past——

Iphigenia. Oh, bother the precedents. What I want to know is this: Is there the slightest chance of my being really sacrificed?

Agamemnon. It is highly improbable, of course; only you must consent; you must behave exactly as if you were going to be sacrificed; you must express your entire willingness to lay down your life for your country; and knowing what a patriotic, obedient, filial child you are, I am certain this will be a positive pleasure to you.

Iphigenia. I won’t.

Agamemnon. You mean you won’t even pretend to——

Iphigenia. I won’t have anything to do with it at all—I think it’s monstrous, and I’m sure mamma will agree with me.

Agamemnon. My dearest child, let me beg of you not to say a word about this to your mother just yet.

Iphigenia. Of course I shall tell her. (Enter Clytæmnestra.) Here is mamma. Mamma——

Clytæmnestra. What is all this?

Iphigenia. Papa says I must be sacrificed to Artemis, in order that they may have a smooth passage to Troy, and to prevent Ajax being sea-sick. I say I won’t. (She begins to cry.)

Clytæmnestra (taking her in her arms). Of course you shan’t, my love—my darling. (To Agamemnon) What is this ridiculous nonsense?

Agamemnon. I assure you it is not my doing. I merely repeated what Calchas had said. He consulted the Oracle, and it appears that Artemis is vexed: she is, in fact, very much displeased. She says we shall never leave Aulis unless Iphigenia consents to go through the form of being sacrificed—of course it’s only a matter of form—but she must consent.

Clytæmnestra. I see. As long as I’m here my child shall not degrade herself by being a party to any ridiculous farce of this nature. I don’t care a bit if we do stay here. You ought never to have come here for one thing. I always said it was absurd from the first—just because of Helen’s silly escapade. If you can’t get a fair wind you’ll have to go home; but you shan’t touch Iphigenia.

Enter a Maid

The Maid (to Clytæmnestra). The cook wants to know whether the fish are to be boiled or fried.

Clytæmnestra (angrily). I told her fried. (To Agamemnon) I must go and look after her. I’ll be back in a moment.

[Exit Clytæmnestra.

Agamemnon. There, you see what you’ve done. You’ve set your mother against the whole plan.

Iphigenia (crying). I hope I have. Of course, if you want to kill me, please do ... just (sobbing) as if I were a sheep.

Agamemnon. My dear child, do be calm. Who ever talked of killing——

Enter Calchas

Agamemnon. She won’t hear of it.

Calchas. My dear child, please be sensible and think of the interests at stake. Remember you are grown up, and we grown-up people have to face these things.

Iphigenia. I don’t care what you say, I won’t be sacrificed—I won’t be killed like a sheep.

Calchas. Even if the worst came to the worst, I promise you you would feel no pain. I assure you we have reached a pitch of perfection in the working of these things which makes all accidents impossible. Besides, think of the honour and the glory.

Agamemnon. And it’s not as if she would be killed really.

Calchas. It’s extremely improbable; but even if she were to lose consciousness and not recover, I am sure most girls would envy her. Just think, your statue would be put up in every city in Greece.

Agamemnon. All the poets would celebrate her.

Calchas. You see it’s not as if she were married.

Agamemnon. She has always refused every one.

Calchas. And now it’s too late.

Agamemnon. Girls are so independent nowadays.

Calchas. They think nothing of tradition, country, or of the respect they owe their parents. They are ungrateful.

Agamemnon. They never think of what they owe the goddesses. In my time....

Enter Odysseus

Iphigenia. I don’t care what you say. I won’t be sacrificed. (She bursts into tears.)

[Odysseus whispers to Agamemnon and Calchas to withdraw. They go out.

Odysseus. And how is our little Iphigenia to-day?

Iphigenia (drying her eyes). Quite well, thank you; only papa wants to kill me.

Odysseus. Kill you, my dear child! I assure you you are mistaken. Nobody, and least of all your father, could dream of such a thing. You are the life and soul of the expedition. It was only this morning I wrote to Penelope to tell her how well you were looking and what a difference it made to all of us your being here.

Iphigenia. Papa wants me to be sacrificed.

Odysseus. You can’t have understood your father. Let me explain it to you. You know what Artemis is; she’s a charming goddess—quite charming—only she’s touchy. Well, she happens to be very much put out at this moment by the attention that has been paid to the other goddesses; and by a very regrettable oversight her sacrifice has been neglected once or twice lately. Of course she is put out; but, believe me, the situation only requires tact—just a little tact ... and we all want you to help us.... You see if you don’t help us we are lost, and the whole expedition may be ruined, all just for the want of a little tact at the right moment. Now, nobody can help us as well as you can. You see Artemis has taken a peculiar fancy to you. She admires you enormously. I happen to know this on the very best authority. She thinks you are far more beautiful than your Aunt Helen. At the same time she is just a shade hurt that you never take any notice of her. Now, what we want you to do is to consent to our stratagem: a delicate piece of flattery which will soothe Artemis and make everything all right. All you will have to do is to wear the most beautiful dress—white and silver—and a band of wrought gold studded with rubies round your head, and to walk with your wonderful hair reaching almost to your feet, in a procession of weeping maidens to the Temple; and there, after the usual prayers and chants, you will sing a hymn to Artemis, especially composed for the occasion, to a flute accompaniment; then, in the gaze of all the crowd, you will kneel down before the altar, and Artemis, flattered and pleased, will carry you off in a cloud, and substitute a sheep or something else for you. Every one will praise you; you will have had all the amusement of the festival, all the glory and honour of the sacrifice, and none of the inconvenience.

Iphigenia (pensively). It would be rather fun. Are you sure I shouldn’t risk being killed really? Calchas said I probably would.

Odysseus. Calchas knows nothing about it at all. I promise you that it’s just as safe as if you were going to sing at the festival of Bacchus.

Iphigenia. But what will happen to me afterwards?

Odysseus. That must be a secret between you and me. Artemis has arranged that a charming young man shall carry you away. I need not mention his name, as you know it too well. It begins with an A. But the marriage must remain a secret until after the siege.

Iphigenia. All right, I will do it. I mean I will pretend to consent, but there must be no question of its really coming off. That you must swear.

Odysseus. I swear we shall sacrifice a sheep instead of you, or if the worst comes to the worst Achilles’ slave, who is so like you.

Iphigenia. And then I shall really marry Achilles.

Enter Clytæmnestra

Odysseus (to Clytæmnestra). It’s all settled; only don’t discuss it with Agamemnon. He doesn’t quite know how to deal with goddesses. He is—you forgive me saying so—a little bit heavy.

Clytæmnestra (to Iphigenia). You don’t mean to say you’ve consented. I forbid it.... I am your mother, and I positively forbid you to do any such thing.

Iphigenia. I’m of age. I’m old enough to judge what I can do and what I can’t do. It’s my duty, and it’s a question of principle; and if I choose to be sacrificed, nobody has the right to prevent me. And I do choose. The one thing I’ve always longed for all my life has been to die for my country.

[Exit Iphigenia in a passion.

[Odysseus looks at Clytæmnestra and smiles.

Clytæmnestra. Serpent!

Curtain.