ion or of
Nature. Was it mere accident, and could you change the name of anything at
will? Or was language a thing rooted in nature and fixed by God from of
old? Aeschylus adopts the latter view: Why was this being called Helena?
If one had understood God's purpose one would have seen it was because she
really _was_ "Helenas"--_Ship-destroyer_. (The Herald's story of the
shipwreck has suggested this particular idea.) Similarly, if a hero was
called Aias, and came to great sorrow, one could see that he was so called
from 'Aiai,' "Alas!"--The antistrophe seems to find a meaning in the name
Paris or Alexandras, where the etymology is not so clear.

Pp. 33 ff.]--Entrance of Agamemnon. The metre of the Chorus indicates
marching; so that apparently the procession takes some time to move across
the orchestra and get into position. Cassandra would be dressed, as a
prophetess, in a robe of white reaching to the feet, covered by an
_agrenon_, or net of wool with large meshes; she would have a staff and
certain fillets or crowns. The Leader welcomes the King: he explains that,
though he was against the war ten years ago, and has not changed his
opinion, he is a faithful servant of the King ... and that not all are
equally so. He gave a similar hint to the Herald above, ll. 546-550, p.
24.

P. 35, Agamemnon.]--A hard, cold speech, full of pride in the earlier
part, and turning to ominous threats at the end. Those who have dared to
be false shall be broken.--At the end comes a note of fear, like the fear
in Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. He is so full of triumph and success; he
must be very careful not to provoke a fall.--Victory, Nike, was to the
Greeks a very vivid and infectious thing. It clung to you or it deserted
you. And one who was really charged with Victory, like Agamemnon, was very
valuable to his friends and people. Hence they made statues of Victory
wingless--so that she should not fly away. See _Four Stages of Greek
Religion_, p. 138 note.

P. 36, Clytemnestra.]--A wonderful speech. It seems to me that Aeschylus'
imagination realized all the confused passions in Clytemnestra's mind, but
that his art was not yet sufficiently developed to make them all clear and
explicit. She is in suspense; does Agamemnon know her guilt or not? At
least, if she is to die, she wants to say something to justify or excuse
herself in the eyes of the world. A touch of hysteria creeps in; why could
he not have been killed in all these years?