Brides of Death, Brides of Destruction: The Inverted Wedding in Aeschylus' Agamemnon

From Vol 2, No. 1, Spring 2017

 

Isabella Levy, Smoth College

 

Overview

 

Of brides and marriage in Greek literature, Richard Seaford wrote that “wedding ritual in tragedy tends to be subverted,”[i] This maxim certainly holds true of Aeschylus’ Oresteia, especially the Agamemnon. Marital imagery pervades the play, but there is none of the typical cheer of weddings. Brides-to-be meet untimely deaths and men are laid low by ruinous marriages. This paper will examine the details and goals of subverted wedding and marriage imagery in the Agamemnon, particularly focusing on two motifs: brides of death, whose corrupted marriages end in their own demise, and brides of destruction, whose corrupted marriages end in the demises of others. Both types of marital corruption contribute to the larger sense of disrupted order in Agamemnon, particularly gender order, which is ultimately righted with the successful incorporation of the Furies into the institution of marriage in Eumenides.

 

Brides of Death: Iphigenia and Cassandra

Ancient Greek literary sources frequently draw on the trope of marriage as death, especially for young women. This is motif, which receives ample attention in tragedy, is drawn from the peculiarities of Ancient Greek marital and funereal traditions, between which there was a great deal of similarity. To quote Seaford more extensively:

 

[I]n both wedding and funeral the girl is washed, anointed, and given special πέπλοι [gowns] and a special στέφανος [crown] in order to be conveyed on an irreversible, torchlit journey (on a cart) accompanied by song, and to be abandoned by her kin to an unknown dwelling, an alien bed, and the physical control . . . of an unknown male.[ii]

 

In fact, girls who died before they could be married were buried in their wedding clothes and given the title “brides of Hades.”[iii] The abundant resembling and intermingling of these two rites of passage, marriage and death, inspired writers to create their own literary brides of Hades, young women whose expected marriages are wrenched away and supplanted by their deaths.[iv] The pathos comes from more than just a gloomy reversal. Marriage in Ancient Greece, as in many other cultures across time and space, was a celebration and affirmation of community and social order.[v] The rite was meant to ensure gender harmony, reproductive fertility, and social incorporation of a bride into her new household. The tragic bride of death trope can negate or subvert any or all of these associated positive elements. Through the connection of marriage to social order generally, corruptions of marriage can become indicative of larger disorder in the tragic narrative. Aeschylus takes just this approach in the Agamemnon, the plot of which is barely set in motion before a bride of death appears.

 

Although Aeschylus does not explicitly name Iphigenia as a bride-to-be in his portrayal of her sacrifice, his choice of imagery would bring to mind other versions of the myth in which she is lured to Aulis on the pretense of marriage to Achilles. One key association, repeated both at the tragedy’s opening and its close, is that of Iphigenia with a livestock animal. Not only does such imagery highlight the grotesqueness of human sacrifice, it also evokes language often used of virgin brides who are frequently depicted as beasts to be tamed. The chorus notes at 232 that as Iphigenia is hoisted over the altar, she resembles a she-goat (δίκαν χιμαίρας). Clytemnestra asserts, triumphing over Agamemnon’s corpse, that her husband had little regard for Iphigenia’s fate, which he treated “just like the death of a beast” (ὡσπερεὶ βοτοῦ μόρον, Ag., 1415). When Iphigenia is gagged so that she cannot curse her father, the gag is literally referred to as “the force of bridles” (βίαι χαλινών, Ag. 238). Sacrificial language mingles with marital language in ways that pervert both. Iphigenia’s sacrifice is a wedding “in reverse,” which brings the young bride toward her father instead of away from him.[vi] Indeed, it is this very father who will be the agent of her death. Sacrificial language again joins marital language when Iphigenia’s death is named a “preliminary sacrifice for the ships” (προτέλεια ναῶν, Ag. 227). Although the προτέλεια can be any sacrifice preliminary to an event, it is in its most specific definition a sacrifice made before a wedding. Such an offering would usually be made, at least in part, to Artemis, as brides would be leaving her sphere of influence as goddess of young girls. Artemis is indeed heavily involved in Iphigenia’s sacrifice, but as the goddess who mandated the girl’s death. Artemis’ role as benevolent protector is subverted, and so are the mechanics of the sacrifice itself. The bride-to-be who makes an offering to ensure Artemis’ good graces becomes the offering herself. The use of the word προτέλεια is also uniquely important, as it taps into a linguistic theme throughout the trilogy, one that Anne Lebeck refers to as “the τέλος of marriage and the τέλος of death.”[vii] The association of those two τέλοι, or “ends,” is linguistically reinforced throughout the Oresteia by repetition of τελ- stem words. This linguistic motif will appear alongside more and more bridal figures as the trilogy progresses (e.g., Ag. 745, 908, 934, 974, 1459; Cho. 212, 541; Eum. 214, 85).

 

Another particularly poignant image is that of Iphigenia’s saffron-dyed robes (κρόκου βαφάς, Ag. 239). The garments’ bright coloration makes them stand out and carries the suggestion of bridal vestments.[viii] David Armstrong and Elizabeth Ratchford argue that the reference is specifically to a bridal veil and that κρόκου βαφάς δ᾽ ἐς πέδον χέουσα (“spilling the crocus-dyed fabric to the ground”) (Ag. 239) does not describe robes spilling down when Iphigenia is lifted over the altar but rather a removal of a veil. Grammatically, this would make χέουσα (“spilling” or “dropping”) a facultative participle in relation to ἔβαλλε (“she threw”) in the next line, with one explaining the other.[ix] That is, instead of the passage describing how Iphigenia threw the darts of her eyes at spectators while her robes flowed to the ground, it explains how Iphigenia was able to throw the darts. It is because her veil has been removed. This interpretation and the reading it posits reveals a tightness of cause and effect that adds to its viability.

 

Furthermore there are extant iconographic representations of Iphigenia removing a veil at her sacrifice, although they come from Roman art.[x] There is also literary precedent both for the use of χέω to mean taking off clothing or removing a veil; χέω makes an appearance in Book 22 of the Iliad when Andromache removes her veil after sensing that Hector has died.[xi] In Iphigenia’s case, removing a veil would amount to a subverted anakalupteria, or “lifting of the veil,” the point in the Athenian wedding ritual where the bride’s veil is pushed aside so that she can look at her groom. Iphigenia “casts aside her veil and looks directly at the men, as she would have put it aside and looked directly at her new husband Achilles if the wedding had been real and not a marriage to death.”[xii] This perverted anakalupteria further ramps up the pathos of the scene, intensifying the bride of death trope’s pathos with a breach of aidos (shame or decency), for at this point in the Athenian wedding ceremony the stress would have been on the bride looking directly at her husband in a way that would not normally be appropriate.[xiii] Iphigenia is made to bestow upon the accomplices to her sacrifice a glance that should have been reserved for her husband. The proper marital proceeding is perverted and then supplanted entirely by Iphigenia’s death. Aside from heightening pathos, the recurrence of perverted marriage imagery including this anakalupteria sets an ominous tone of disorder for the rest of the play.

That Cassandra is the next bridal figure to appear in Agamemnon would be immediately apparent to Greek audiences from her entrance. She has been led away from her father’s home and brought to a new house in a procession that draws on elements of the Athenian wedding (Ag. 783 ff.). Clytemnestra’s signal fire relay provides the symbolic torchlight for this conveyance, and Cassandra’s position in a wagon with Agamemnon would likely have evoked the cart that brought bride and groom to their home.[xiv] The entire episode is heavy with the “vocabulary of leading.”[xv]

 

One of Cassandra’s first utterances is a question to Apollo: “Where have you led me?” (ποῖ ποτ᾽ ἤγαγές με;, Ag. 1087). The same question is repeated and amplified at 1138: “Where indeed have you led wretched me?” (ποῖ δὴ με δεῦρο τὴν τάλαιναν ἤγαγες; Ag. 1138). Cassandra refers to her ἀγωγή, “abduction” or simply “leading,” as a motivation for Clytemnestra’s murder of Agamemnon (1263). When she prepares to enter the house, having acquiesced to the fate she will find within, she states that Apollo “has led his prophetess away” (ὁ μάντις μάντιν … ἀπήγαγ᾽; 1275-1276). All of this leading would certainly bring weddings to mind and would conjure an image of Cassandra as bride. Indeed, so would Cassandra’s comment that she will lift the veils (καλυμμάτων) from her prophecies like a bride (νεογάμου νύμφης δίκην, Ag. 1178- 1179). As with Iphigenia, in the absence of a literal marriage ceremony Aeschylus still manages to tap into the bride of death trope by repeating imagery intimately associated with Athenian marriage. Both the imagery and the symbolic wedding, of course, will be subverted in Cassandra’s case as it was in Iphigenia’s. Cassandra will enter the household, not as a wife but as a sacrifice, and her symbolic marriage will be “consummated in her death.”[xvi] Therein lies another inversion; while Ancient Greek brides might sing at their weddings in lamentation over their symbolic or figurative death, Cassandra sings at a symbolic wedding in lamentation over her very real death to come.

 

Another subtler evocation of Athenian marriage comes in the chorus’ reference to the myth of Itys. The unfortunate boy is described as ἀμφιθαλῆ (Ag. 1144), a word that literally means “blooming on both sides” but is usually used to denote that both of a child’s parents are living. In Athenian wedding, the presence of a παῖς ἀμφιθαλής (literally “a child that blooms on both sides,” but often simply “a child with two living parents”) is propitious, and sometimes one would sleep in the bride’s bed on the night before the proceedings to ensure good luck.[xvii] However, Itys is not a fortunate παῖς ἀμφιθαλής with two living parents. He is an ill-omened child whose parents both had a hand in his death, a death that reminds the audience of Thyestes’ children who met with the same fate. What might be a very positive marital element is here inverted.

 

There is more mixed imagery when, after Agamemnon’s entrance into the house, Clytemnestra calls Cassandra to the “lustrations” (χερνίβων, Ag. 1037) at the hearth which evoke at once purification before sacrifice, ritual incorporation of slaves, and the

katachysmata. The katachysmata was an element of the Athenian wedding in which newlyweds are showered with dried fruits, nuts, figs, and dates upon arrival at the groom’s house.[xviii] Here, however, the incorporation of the bride is mixed with a preparation for sacrificial violence that will lead to Cassandra’s death, as the sacrificial again becomes associated with the marital. Multivalent animal vocabulary returns when both the chorus and Clytemnestra compare Cassandra to untamed beasts. In the eyes of the chorus, she is “like a newly captured animal” (θηπὸς ὡς ωεαιρέτου, Ag. 1065). Clytemnestra adds more menacingly that Cassandra “does not know how to bear the bit before she has foamed out her passion in blood” (Ag. 1066-1067). The blood can refer on a most surface level to the blood drawn by punishment of a disobedient slave, on another to the blood drawn by the consummation of a marriage, and on a third to the blood drawn in the double murder Clytemnestra is about to commit.[xix] The same mixture of sacrificial and marital imagery from Iphigenia’s death at the hands of Agamemnon persists with Cassandra’s at the hands of Clytemnestra.

 

Clytemnestra’s position in this symbolic marriage is ambiguous and difficult to pin down. Certainly Clytemnestra occupies the literal role of Agamemnon’s wife, and thus Cassandra’s figurative marriage, not to mention her literal concubinage, provides further motivation for the murder of Agamemnon. However, Clytemnestra’s position onstage when she greets Agamemnon and Cassandra, the bridegroom and his bride, is more visually evocative of the role of the bridegroom’s mother. In an even more perverse turn of events, Clytemnestra ultimately takes on the role of husband, at least as far as she symbolically consummates the marriage of Cassandra. Paula Debnar argues that Clytemnestra “metaphorically violates [Cassandra] – behind the skene with her weapon and before the audience of the theater with her coarse sexual accusations.”[xxi] Such a complex role, that of insulted wife as well as bridegroom’s mother and consummator of the marriage, is particularly fitting for Clytemnestra, a woman with an ἀνδρόβουλον κέαρ (“a heart that gives counsel like a man,” Ag. 11). The gender inversion is particularly notable, lending the episode a doubly grotesque nature. There is the perversion of marriage iconography that would normally evoke positive associations of social harmony generally, as well as the marked reversal of gender order more specifically in Clytemnestra’s gender transgressive behavior

 

Brides of Destruction: Helen and Clytemnestra

There is another type of bride in Agamemnon, one whose marriage brings about not her own death but the deaths of others. Aeschylus’ brides of destruction, Helen and Clytemnestra, bring ruin through their marriages, the former on a grand scale and the latter within the household. Although this kind of bride is not nearly as prominent of a type character in the rest of tragedy as the bride of death, in Agamemnon it plays a powerful role in both exemplifying and reinforcing the disorder that dominates the tragedy. The marital vocabulary surrounding brides of death is just as pronounced when applied to brides of destruction. The third choral ode, which deals extensively with Helen and the devastation left in her wake, is replete with the language of brides and marriage. Helen is described as a “bride of battle” (δορίγαμβρον, Ag. 686); the προκαλυμμάτων (“curtains”) away from which she sails share linguistic similarity and common imagery with the bridal veil (c.f. Cassandra’s καλυμμάτων at 1178); there is wordplay around Helen’s κῆδος (Ag. 699), which could be translated as either “marriage contract” or “cause for grief.” Troy welcomes Helen with a ὑμέναιον(“song”; Ag. 707) that “honors the bride” (νυμφότιμον, Ag. 706), but in the aftermath of the war waged on her behalf it must learn a new song of mourning (ὓμνον … πολύθρηνον, Ag. 709-711). The Trojans curse Paris, who was “fatally wedded” (αἰνόλεκτρον, Ag. 712). Although the thematic connection here is still, as with the bride of death, between death and marriage, there is a crucial difference in the way Aeschylus treats Helen. Her marriage does lead to death, but not her own. The reversal is not tragic for the bride, but for her husband and his house.

 

The parable of the lion and its comparison to Helen further explores the destructive reversal she brought about at Troy, highlighting the dissonance between pleasing initial appearance and dangerous reality. The tale of cub that first seems tame and then wreaks havoc is juxtaposed with the chorus’ portrayal of Helen arriving at Troy. She is pictured as “a spirit / of windless calm, / a delicate ornament of wealth, / a gentle dart of the eyes, a flower of desire that bites the heart” (Ag. 739-743). However lovely, this vision of Helen does not last, just as the once charming little lion soon reveals its true nature. The next sentence unfolds:

 

παρακλίνασ᾽ ἐπέκρανεν δὲ γάμου πικρὰς τελευτάς, δύσεδρος καὶ δυςόμιλος συμένα Πριαμίδαισιν, πομπᾷ Διὸς ξεωίου,

νυμφόκλαυτος Ἐρινύς. (Ag. 744-749)

 

The slow progression of the sentence, delaying the subject until the very end, replicates in its very form the revelation that it describes. The delicacy and levity of the previous lines slowly unravels and finally, Helen’s true nature is revealed: a Fury, a “bride who brings weeping.” The τέλος of marriage/death has a prominent place in this passage too, as the lion’s deceptively tame youth is called the προτελείοις (“preliminary rituals”) of its life (Ag. 720). The τελ- vocabulary of marriage returns and reinforces the link between the lion’s tale and Helen’s marriage, which is equally deceptive in its initial stages (προ- τέλος) but leads to ruin in the “bitter end” (γάμου πικρὰς τελευτὰς, Ag. 745), Helen’s deceptive prettiness is also typical of certain Greek literary and mythological trends that imbue brides with “irresistible powers of seduction” that can be misleadingly deployed.[xxii] The paradigm for this trope, and perhaps for the bride of destruction more specifically, is Pandora, “the Deathly Bride who brings calamity.”[xxiii] As the bride who brought sorrows to the earth in her jar, Pandora is a trap that seems beautiful and pleasant externally but conceals danger and destruction within.[xxiv] The image of that infamous jar is even conjured up by Aeschylus when his chorus tells of the funerary urns sent home to wives of soldiers who died fighting for Helen in Troy (Ag. 227 ff.). Pandora is also an instrument of Zeus’ plans to punish humans, and after her wicked women through the mythological ages, particularly wives, become the channels through which ruin manifests itself. The same holds true for Aeschylus’ brides of destruction, who are considered to be the instruments through which the daimon of the house of Atreus brings about its ends. The τέλος of death reappears when the chorus describes Helen as bedecking herself with a “final” (τελέαν, Ag. 1459) crown upon Agamemnon’s death. Clytemnestra, claiming to speak as the daimon, points to Agamemnon as her “full-grown” sacrificial victim (τέλεον, Ag. 1504).

 

  1. The concentration of τελ- words is particularly high around Clytemnestra, and because it has already acquired multivalent associations with marriage and death the vocabulary of τέλος lends a sinister air to Clytemnestra and Agamemnon’s reunion-as- wedding. Indeed, the language in this scene connects the τέλος both of Helen’s disastrous marriage and Iphigenia’s marriage-like sacrifice to the moment of Agamemnon’s return. The two events are προτελείαι, “preliminary rituals,” for the king’s death. When Clytemnestra orders her household slaves to spread out the fabrics of the notorious carpet scene, she calls the action a τέλος (Ag. 908). Agamemnon picks up on the word and, in his hypothetical justification for trampling the fabrics were it to be ordained by a seer, he also describes it a potential τέλος (Ag. 934). Clytemnestra’s invocation to Zeus Teleios as Agamemnon enters the house, however, is the dramatic climax of the τέλος of marriage and the τέλος of death. The prayer itself has marital connotations, both because of the god’s role in wedding ceremonies and because of the sheer number of times that the τελ- root is repeated. Clytemnestra calls out, “Ζεῦ Ζεῦ τέλειε, τὰς ἐμὰς εὐχὰς τέλει. / μέλοι δἐ τοἰ σοι τῶνπερ ἂν μέλλῃς τελεῖν” (“Zeus, Zeus the fulfiller, fulfill my prayers. / May you see to that which you intend to fulfill,” Ag. 974-975). The sonic effect of the repetition drives home the multitude of associations that have already gathered around τέλος and related words, including the perverse intermingling of marriage and death.

The subverted marital imagery reappears when Agamemnon’s corpse is displayed at the play’s close and his death rehashed for the audience. The bath in which Clytemnestra trapped and killed her husband recalls the ritual bathing of the bride and groom in Athenian weddings.[xxvi] The convention is meant to encourage purification and fertility, but here becomes the very scheme by which Agamemnon meets his doom. His bath, which should be a source of vitality and cleansing, becomes his coffin.

 

Lynda McNeil, in her article “Bridal Cloths, Cover-ups, and Kharis: The ‘Carpet Scene’ in Aeschylus’ Agamemnon,” takes the perversion of marital tradition one step further. She argues that the fabric of the so-called carpet scene could be suggestive of both ritual marital robes and coverlets for the marriage bed. In terms of the language used to describe these fabrics, it is not unlikely that they are a type of clothing, given that they are referred to as εἵματα (Ag. 960). Their ornateness (ποικίλοις, Ag. 923) could suggest a ritual function. Agamemnon seems to give them some ritual import when he protests his wife’s suggestion of treading on them, noting that “it is necessary to worship the gods [rather than to honor mortals] with such things” (Ag. 922). In actual Athenian marriages, both bride and groom wore special clothing to highlight their important roles in the ceremony, so it is not absurd to suggest that Aeschylus’ εἵματα are rich garments of ritual importance specifically as they pertain to the wedding. This reading is attractive in that it can allow for Agamemnon’s trampling of the fabrics to take on even more symbolic meaning than it is traditionally ascribed . His actions thus become a symbol both of his disregard for his marital ties, evidenced by his bringing a concubine home, and of the corrupted wedding he prepared for his own daughter.[xxvii] In fact, when Cassandra alludes to the infidelities in the house of Atreus’ history, she describes Thyestes as “trampling” (πατοῦντι, Ag. 1193) his brother’s bed, the same language used of Agamemnon in this scene. The repetition of the word would seem to suggest a connection in theme as well. Furthermore, if the εἵματα of the carpet scene are meant to evoke a “nuptial cloth” of some kind, be it a marital robe or the coverlet of the marriage bed, Clytemnestra’s offer would serve much the same purpose as the bath. That is, it would be an invitation to Agamemnon to participate in an action that, while in the surface might appear to represent the restoration of the marriage bond, will lead to his ultimate demise. The positive marital suggestions of the εἵματα and the bath reveal themselves as outwardly pleasing artifices that lure Agamemnon in with the promise of nuptial reconciliation but are no more than instruments of his downfall. In this way, Clytemnestra’s behavior is very much like Helen’s, as both women are initially pleasing to their husbands but are in fact brides who bring destruction. In Agamemnon’s demise, one might recall αἰνόλεκτρος Paris and his disastrous bride. The wife is again the instrument of ruin.

 

The breakdown of the marital relationship and the motif of the ruinous wife coexists in the Agamemnon with a gender role reversal that is typified in Clytemnestra’s corruption and inversion of bride and groom in her relationship with Agamemnon. There are two conspicuous moments in which gender expectations for a scene evoking marriage are swapped, where Agamemnon becomes the bride and Clytemnestra his groom. The first is Agamemnon’s ceremonious removal of his shoes before stepping on the garments that will lead him into the house. The action is a reversal of the Athenian marital tradition of the nymphides, the fastening of the bride’s sandals.[xxviii] The association is particularly poignant in its gender inversion because it is Clytemnestra who waits to welcome Agamemnon into the house, as a groom might do to his bride, rather than the other way around. Once Agamemnon does enter the house, cries ring out. One might expect these to be a woman’s shouts, perhaps Cassandra’s, since she has just barely crossed the threshold. It was apparently common during Athenian weddings for the bride to cry out in pain or fear when the marriage was consummated, or at least common enough that attendants were stationed by the doors of the bedchamber to pound on them and sing loudly enough to drown out any noises the bride might be making inside.[xxix] That Agamemnon is uttering these cries puts him in a feminized position and that Clytemnestra is the figurative penetrator who causes Agamemnon to cry out puts her in a masculinized one. What Robin Mitchell-Boyask calls the “dual ‘grotesque marriage’ of Agamemnon and Agamemnon with Cassandra” swaps gender expectations at the very last minute.[xxx] Indeed, after Agamemnon’s murder, the chorus repeatedly expresses their shock, not merely at his death, but at the fact that a woman perpetrated it. Even before the deed is done, Cassandra reels at the anomalous atrocity inherent in a woman killing a man. The idea is so foreign to the chorus that they cannot even fathom her comments on the cow that kills the bull (Ag. 1125-1126) and the female murder of the male (Ag. 1231) until it is too late. The marriage, perverted and inverted in every way, has already become the channel for destruction.

 

 

Conclusion: Marriage, Gender, and Order

Although marriage in the Oresteia is to a significant degree representative of the state of social order or disorder in general, it has particular importance as an indicator of gender hierarchy and balance of power between the genders. Clytemnestra’s perverted and inverted reunion-as-marriage with Agamemnon, the climactic event up to which the three other corrupted marriages build, demonstrates the reversal of gender order that characterizes the Agamemnon. Froma Zeitlin argues that the “pacification of the Erinyes becomes the ideological effort to solve the dilemma of the inextricable connection between female fertility and female sexuality.”[xxxi] Marriage is so intimately associated with gender order because of its role in regulating women’s behavior, particularly their sexual behavior. Clytemnestra is no exception, for her disruption of marriage comes alongside an illicit affair with Aegisthus. Marriage as an institution controls fertility and channels it productively into the polis, institutionalizing women’s sexuality for the social good. Apollo’s articulation of marriage and motherhood also demonstrates how the marital bond reinforces patrilineal succession and male political power in its subordination of the mother’s role. The subordination of kinship ties generally is emphasized in Apollo’s brand of marriage, as these are the spheres both in which women have more influence and where blood retribution takes precedence. The supremacy of the marriage bond ensures that potentially threatening female elements are pacified and incorporated in a way that serves the social needs of the polis. This is just what occurs with the Furies at the close Eumenides. Thus, in Agamemnon, the wedding gone wrong becomes symbolic of disorder in systems of gender, politics, and even justice. The restoration of marriage in the Eumenides represents the righting of these systems in the establishment of male supremacy, democratic governance, and legal courts. That Apollo refers to marriage as “guarded by Justice” (τῇ δικῇ φρουρυμένη, Eum. 218) indicates its important role in relation to other major themes of the trilogy. Like these other themes, it follows a trajectory from destruction to restoration, from pollution to cleansing, and from disorder to order.

 

Notes

[i]. Richard Seaford, “The Tragic Wedding,” The Journal of Hellenic Studies 107 (1987), 106.

[ii]. Ibid., 107.

[iii]. Ibid., 107.

[iv]. Ibid., 107.

[v]. John Howard Oakley and Rebecca H. Sinos, The Wedding in Ancient Athens (Madison: University of Wisconsin, 1993), 9.

[vi]. Nicole Loraux, Tragic Ways of Killing a Woman (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1987), 36.

[vii]. Anne Lebeck, The Oresteia: A Study in Language and Structure (Washington, Center for Hellenic Studies; Distributed by Harvard University Press, Cambridge, 1971), 68.

[viii]. Paula Debnar, “The Sexual Status of Aeschylus’ Cassandra,” Classical Philology 105.2 (2010), 135.

[ix]. David Armstrong and Elizabeth A. Ratchford, “Iphigenia’s Veil: Aeschylus’ Agamemnon 228-48,” Bulettin of the Institute of Classical Studies 32.1 (1985), 6.

[x]. Ibid., 8.

[xi]. Ibid., 7.

[xii]. Ibid., 7.

[xiii]. Ibid., 9.

[xiv]. Oakley and Sinos, The Wedding in Ancient Athens, 27.

[xv]. Robin Mitchell-Boyask, “The Marriage of Cassandra and the Oresteia: Text, Image, and Performance,” Transactions of the American Philological Association 136.2 (2006), 275.

[xvi]. Ibid., 279.

[xvii]. Oakley and Sinos, The Wedding in Ancient Athens, 12.

[xviii]. Ibid., 26.

[xix]. Debnar, “The Sexual Status of Aeschylus’ Cassandra,” 135.

[xx]. Ibid., 135.

[xxi]. Ibid., 137-138.

[xxii]. Oakley and Sinos, The Wedding in Ancient Athens, 19.

[xxiii]. A. Doyle, “Aeschylus’ Pandora – Helen in the Agamemnon,Akroterian 54 (2005), 11.

[xxiv]. Ibid., 12.

[xxv]. Lebeck, The Oresteia: A Study in Language and Structure, 70.

[xxvi]. Oakley and Sinos, The Wedding in Ancient Athens, 15.

[xxvii]. Lynda McNeil, "Bridal Cloths, Cover-ups, and Kharis: The 'Carpet Scene' in Aeschylus' Agamemnon." Greece and Rome 52.1 (2005), 9.

[xxviii]. Ibid., 3.

[xxix]. Oakley and Sinos, The Wedding in Ancient Athens, 37.

[xxx]. Mitchell-Boyask, “The Marriage of Cassandra,” 274.

[xxxi]. Froma Zeitlin, “The Dynamics of Misogyny: Myth and Mythmaking in the ‘Oresteia,’”Arethusa 11 (1978), 159.

 

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