Andromache.
by Gilbert Murray.
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._
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----