Cassandra's final monologue in Aeschylus' Agamemnon plays a transformative role in terms of plot movement and, upon careful examination, functions as a key to many of the play's larger themes. He begins by equating prophecy, be it the physical act or the emotional ramifications of foreknowledge of events, with intense pain. 'Oh, flame and pain that overwhelms me once more!' he cries, then asks for help from Apollo, the god at the origin of his prophecies. Here he names him "King of Light" (ln 1256, ln 1257). This is an interesting paradox: Apollo, the source of prophecy, is equated with light, which is consequently not a source of fire. The metaphors work in opposite directions. Perhaps, then, Aeschylus highlights not only Apollo's link with prophecy but also with real events, as he observes them, dominator of the light reflected by the fire of Cassandra's pain. This is illustrative of the role the gods play in the Oresteia in general. While they are at a certain level responsible for the events of the human sphere, they are also spectators and, ultimately, judges. This tension between the active and passive roles of the gods is fundamental to the development of the tragedy. The actions of humans are to some extent predestined and their roles are determined by the dictates of the gods, for example Orestes "was born to kill his mother" (ln 1280-1). The gods at some point become spectators, allowing mortals enough leeway to resist their fate and even, in Orestes' case, participate in their own trials. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an original essay There is also an implicit dichotomy between the divine and the mortal expressed in Cassandra's opening exclamation. This is problematized in lines 1258 to 1259, when Cassandra introduces, by way of metaphor, a third classification. He names Clytaemestra as "a lioness-woman, who sleeps with the wolf, when her proud lion wanders far away" (ln 1258-9). This initial characterization of Clytaemestra and the description of her sins are crucial in explaining them. When she is relegated to an animal position, inferior to human, her crime is stripped of all art and presented as simple, if vile. Similarly, Aeschylus posits that his relationship with Aegisthus is beneath his station, making him a wolf to Agamemnon's "proud lion" (ln 1259). Since the development of the entire trilogy depends on judging Clytaemestra's actions to be wrong and at the same time judging both Agamemnon and Orestes to be right, Aeschylus moves her, through metaphor, to a lower level of existence. Described as a lioness, her motivations seem less pure, her reasoning clouded, and her impulses seem to dictate her actions. This is just one of the many ways in which Aeschylus denigrates Clytaemestra and her actions; in The Libation Bearers, she is shown as a trickster, a craftsman of "sacrilegious works" (LB ln 986). Having thus characterized her killer, Cassandra goes on to briefly prophesy future events. He says that, “like a wife who mixes drugs, [Clytaemestra] wants to tear the virtue of my punishment to pieces” (ln 1260-1). The initial metaphor is interesting because it varies so little from the actual situation. Clytaemestra is, of course, Agamemnon's wife, but Aeschylus chooses to invoke the more abstract, and potentially more ideal, image of "a wife" mixing drugs, rather than saying that it was as if Clytaemestra herself was mixing drugs. Once again it seems that Clytaemestra's position as a mere mortal is in jeopardy; the wickedness of her actions seems to prevent her from fully representing the abstract notion of "wife". Furthermore, he puts into the bowl not herbs and wine but "the virtue of[Cassandra's] punishment". This is the first of a series of paradoxes present in the passage; the notion of sin and not of virtue is intrinsic to punishment. The virtue in question, therefore, is not the virtue of punishment itself, but rather the virtue with which Cassandra could suffer punishment. Here, the center of tragic gravity begins to shift, since Cassandra names as the main victim of Clytaemestra's plot not Agamemnon's death but her own loss of the opportunity to behave nobly it is only a shift in focus from Agamemnon as victim to Cassandra, but rather a more significant shift that begins to privilege adherence to ethical and virtuous behavior over life itself have relevance; only with this assumption can one begin to allow a forum that determines the ethical legality of an act to have power over life and death. Cassandra, however, is not entirely free from selfish motivations, stating that the cause of Agamemnon's murder is "that he brought home a mistress" (ln 1263). Unless, of course, the death he references as a result of this is his own, making Agamemnon irrelevant and completing the gravitational shift in his favor. Cassandra's attention then turns to the flashy prophet's robes she is dressed in, and she begins to tear them. from his body. This kind of melodrama is tragically effective, sure, but there seem to be two other ideas at play. The first is an apparent search for the purity of existence: if he is unhappy, he wants to appear so. “Make someone else, not me, luxurious in disaster!” he exclaims (ln 1268). This is the second of the paradoxes, for it is as unlikely to be luxurious in disaster as to be virtuous in punishment. Here, instead of subtly reconstructing the relationship between two concepts, Aeschylus seems to denigrate the concept of “luxury disaster” as a whole. Later, in the Libation Bearers, the Chorus describes someone appropriately dressed for sorrow or disaster: clothed 'with my sorrow, with a broken weave of tattered linen on the brave show of my heart's garments' (LB ln 27-9) . The text also mentions many luxurious disasters; Agamemnon took the fatal step towards the red tapestry which he deemed too rich, and the tapestry itself came to symbolize this notion, reappearing, in the hands of Orestes' attendants, after the murder of Clytaemestra and Aegisthus. The irony in the presence of elegant indulgences on the scene only compounds the tragic impact of a major disaster. The second of the notions at play is an apparent disappointment or anger at the very gift of prophecy: Cassandra calls her staff and her flowers "words lying around." and throws them to the ground, saying: «This is for all that you have done to me» (ln 1264, ln 1267). He suffers because of his own gift. Cassandra continues to insist on this point until line 1276, recording her loved ones' hatred of her and her status as a "beggar, corrupt [and] half-starved," and yet, she says, "I have borne it all" (ln 1274 ). She seems to hold a grudge against Apollo, saying that it was he who took away her “prophetic garments,” when in reality she tore them off with her own hands (ln 1270). “And now,” he says, “the seer has finished with me, his prophetess” (ln 1275). What begins to emerge from this confusion of resentment is a dualism between the god as seer and the prophet (or mortal) as the "bearer" as such, that is, the individual who experiences the ramifications of the knowledge possessed by the gods. This dualism begins to suggest a slightly new way of conceptualizing destiny. Sight and judgment rest in the heavens, and mortals below are left to passively experience or suffer through what is seen. Here as elsewhere, therelationship between the human and the divine seems to prefigure the emergence of a judicial system. The text then moves on to a completely different issue: that of the impacts of intergenerational conflict and conflicts between family members. A classic element of the tragic form, this idea figures prominently in the Oresteia. «Lost are the altars of my father», cries Cassandra, and, in the following play, Electra echoes her (ln 1277). Electra has not lost the physicality of her father's tomb, but its meaning and the words to access her spirit and respect for her ancestors. How will I say the good word, he asks, how will I make my prayer to my father? (LB ln 88-89). Interfamily conflict destroys the ancestral history and religious sensitivity with which it seems to connect, along with the family itself. This creates a void that destiny wishes to fill. If Cassandra's father's altar is no longer there, well, is the block there reeking of sacrificial blood, [his] own? (ln 1277-8). Aeschylus is engaged in a symbolic explanation of the way conflicts are reproduced between generations; when one can no longer access one's father's tomb or altar due to conflict and tragedy, new altars must be created by those who still need revenge. Cassandra promptly explains this, saying: we. . . die not without vengeance from the gods. Because one also comes to avenge us (ln 1278-80). He means, of course, Orestes. He then prophesies his homecoming and the other events of the Libation Bearers, including both the escalation of the interfamilial conflict and its resolution. It is fate that Orestes will return to throw men over the head for killing his father, which implies that he will make the punishment more severe than the crime (ln 1285). At the same time, he will return to face these stones of internal hatred, which suggests that Orestes will simultaneously move the entire self-replicating disaster towards some sort of resolution (ln 1283). Aeschylus uses this device to heighten the dramatic irony of the entire trilogy by giving his audience a vague and seemingly contradictory vision of things to come. After facing both the near and distant future, Cassandra moves into her present. He begins to think about his own death, in the context of his prophetic abilities and his various experiences. He knows the sum of events to come and asks himself, why then am I so pitiful? Why do I have to cry? (ln 1286). Is there some movement here between the passive and objective states of being ?pitiful? and the action of ?crying? which recalls the seeing/experiencing dichotomy of the divine and the mortal. The awareness that accompanies Cassandra's position as prophet complicates the issue of death for her, and her movement toward realization in lines 1287 to 1290 is slow. Initially, his prescience leads to a confusion of tenses: he saw Ilium die as he died, and those who destroyed the city. . . they do well (ln 1288-9). These juxtapositions of time seem analogous to the more direct paradoxes posed by the phrases the virtue of punishment and luxury in disaster. Each of these paradoxical cases seems to depend on greater knowledge of the events that are occurring: a prophet can watch something die as it dies and can also find irony in luxury despite impending disaster. This prophetic distance is a small privilege compared to ordinary mortals. this constitutes the perspective from which paradoxes become visible. Cassandra's prophetic uncertainty in terms of her temporal position in relation to certain events begins to clarify in a series of declarative statements: "I will. I will also take my lot (ln 1290). With these, she abandons the prophecy and retreats into his present. Now, thinking about the future with only hope and no certainty, he begins to pray,.