[P. 27, l. 617, Menelaus.]—This digression about Menelaus is due, as similar digressions generally are when they occur in Greek plays, to the poet feeling bound to follow the tradition. Homer begins his longest account of the slaying of Agamemnon by asking “Where was Menelaus?” (Od. iii. 249). Agamemnon could be safely attacked because he was alone. Menelaus was away, wrecked or wind-bound. [P. 28, l. 642, Two-fold scourge.]—Ares works his will when spear crosses spear, when man meets man. Hence “two-fold.” [P. 29, CHORUS. The name HELENA.]—There was a controversy in Aeschylus’ day whether language, including names, was a matter of Convention 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_ “Helenâs”—_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 _agrênon_, 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.