The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 01 · Chapter 31Iphigenia
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Me hast thou summon'd? wherefore art thou here?
Wherefore delay the sacrifice? inform me.
I have acquainted Arkas with the reasons.
From thee I wish to hear them more at large.
The goddess for reflection grants thee time.
To thee this time seems also opportune.
If to this cruel deed thy heart is steel'd, Thou shouldst not come! A king who meditates A deed inhuman, may find slaves enow, Willing for hire to bear one-half the curse, And leave the monarch's presence undefil'd. Enrapt in gloomy clouds he forges death, Flaming destruction then his ministers Hurl down upon his wretched victim's head, While he abideth high above the storm, Calm and untroubled, an impassive god.
A wild song, priestess, issued from thy lips.
No priestess, king! but Agamemnon's daughter; While yet unknown, thou didst respect my words A princess now,—and think'st thou to command me? From youth I have been tutor'd to obey, My parents first and then the deity; And thus obeying, ever hath my soul Known sweetest freedom. But nor then nor now Have I been taught compliance with the voice And savage mandates of a man.
Not I, An ancient law doth thy obedience claim.
Our passions eagerly catch hold of laws Which they can wield as weapons. But to me Another law, one far more ancient, speaks And doth command me to withstand thee, king! That law declaring sacred every stranger.
These men, methinks, lie very near thy heart, When sympathy with them can lead thee thus To violate discretion's primal law, That those in power should never be provok'd.
Speaking or silent, thou canst always know What is, and ever must be, in my heart. Doth not remembrance of a common doom, To soft compassion melt the hardest heart? How much more mine! in them I see myself. I trembling kneel'd before the altar once, And solemnly the shade of early death Environ'd me. Aloft the knife was rais'd To pierce my bosom, throbbing with warm life; A dizzy horror overwhelm'd my soul; My eyes grew dim; I found myself in safety. Are we not bound to render the distress'd The gracious kindness from the gods receiv'd? Thou know'st we are, and yet wilt thou compel me?
Obey thine office, priestess, not the king.
Cease! nor thus seek to cloak the savage force Which triumphs o'er a woman's feebleness. Though woman, I am born as free as man. Did Agamemnon's son before thee stand, And thou requiredst what became him not, His arm and trusty weapon would defend His bosom's freedom. I have only words; But it becomes a noble-minded man To treat with due respect the words of woman.
I more respect them than a brother's sword.
Uncertain ever is the chance of arms, No prudent warrior doth despise his foe; Nor yet defenceless 'gainst severity Hath nature left the weak; she gives him craft And, willy, cunning; artful he delays, Evades, eludes, and finally escapes. Such arms are justified by violence.
But circumspection countervails deceit.
Which a pure spirit doth abhor to use.
Do not incautiously condemn thyself.
Oh, couldst thou see the struggle of my soul, Courageously to ward the first attack Of an unhappy doom, which threatens me! Do I then stand before thee weaponless? Prayer, lovely prayer, fair branch in woman's hand, More potent far than instruments of war, Thou dost thrust back. What now remains for me Wherewith my inborn freedom to defend? Must I implore a miracle from heaven? Is there no power within my spirit's depths?
Extravagant thy interest in the fate Of these two strangers. Tell me who they are For whom thy heart is thus so deeply mov'd.
They are—they seem at least—I think them Greeks.
Thy countrymen; no doubt they have renew'd The pleasing picture of return.
IPHIGENIA (after a pause)
Doth man Lay undisputed claim to noble deeds? Doth he alone to his heroic breast Clasp the impossible? What call we great? What deeds, though oft narrated, still uplift with shuddering horror the narrator's soul, But those which, with improbable success, The valiant have attempted? Shall the man Who all alone steals on his foes by night, And raging like an unexpected fire, Destroys the slumbering host, and press'd at length By rous'd opponents on his foeman's steeds, Retreats with booty—be alone extoll'd? Or he who, scorning safety, boldly roams Through woods and dreary wilds, to scour the land Of thieves and robbers? Is naught left for us? Must gentle woman quite forego her nature, Force against force employ, like Amazons Usurp the sword from man, and bloodily Revenge oppression? In my heart I feel The stirrings of a noble enterprize; But if I fail—severe reproach, alas! And bitter misery will be my doom. Thus on my knees I supplicate the gods! Oh, are ye truthful, as men say ye are, Now prove it by your countenance and aid; Honor the truth in me! Attend, O king A secret plot deceitfully is laid; Touching the captives thou dost ask in vain; They have departed hence and seek their friends, Who, with the ship, await them on the shore. The eldest,—whom dire madness lately seiz'd, And hath abandon'd now,—he is Orestes, My brother, and the other Pylades, His early friend and faithful confidant. From Delphi, Phoebus sent them to this shore With a divine command to steal away The image of Diana, and to him Bear back the sister thither, and for this He promised to the blood-stained matricide, The Fury-haunted son, deliverance. I have surrender'd now into thy hands The remnants of the house of Tantalus. Destroy us—if thou canst.
And dost thou think That the uncultured Scythian will attend The voice of truth and of humanity Which Atreus, the Greek, heard not?