oung daughter Iphigenia for the sake of the war effort. The Chorus narrates that fateful day with words full of pity and regret. Finally, Clytaemestra is addressed directly, when the Chorus commends her on her just rule in Agamemnon's absence.
             Clytaemestra announces the end of the war. The Chorus hears the news with reserved joy; they can hardly believe it. The queen follows with a lengthy, poetic account of the transmission of the signal blaze from Troy, from beacon to beacon, and finally to Argos. The Chorus is so excited they ask her to retell it, and she obliges. She imagines what it must be like in Troy at the moment. But she also warns that the Argives must not defile the Trojan gods in their plundering of the city.
             The monumental, dramatic timing of the opening of the play, given as "directly after the fall of Troy," verily cannot be ignored. We are on the heels of one of the greatest wars in western history, and without a doubt the greatest in classical antiquity. The Watchman can be thought of as a type; in many ways he represents all those citizens and members of Agamemnon's court who yearn for the return of their estranged king and their countrymen. In his soliloquy, the repetition of words related to restlessness and sleeplessness, to tired vigilance, and to disquiet establishes the mood in Argos. It is one of grieving and longing. Indeed, the Watchman is even weary of the rotations of the stars.
             The play's initial tone is melancholy, reflective, and somewhat ponderous. That is, until the blaze is spotted. Then we encounter an important ambiguity. The high excitement for the taking of the Troy is subsequently undermined by anxiety. The Watchman and the Chorus both are concerned about the condition of the returning king and his men and about the return itself. More important is the second concern; it calls our attention to the function of the past and memory in the play. No one in Argos can forget the horrible events...