The Greek Plays
Page 72
that fine protector of your grave?” Insulting
my absent brother!
(to Orestes) Stranger, take this news.
It comes from many: I interpret them:
My hands, my tongue, my heavy-hearted mind,
my shaven head, and he—Orestes’ father.
It looks bad, if his father conquered Troy
and he, young though he is, can’t even kill
just this one man—his father was much better.
CHORUS: I see him coming! Him—I mean your husband.
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He’s finished work, and now he’s coming home.
PEASANT: What’s this? Who are these strangers at the house?
What do they want out here, in the countryside,
here at my house? Is it me they want to see?
A woman’s shamed by standing out with men.
ELECTRA: Darling, don’t suspect the worst of me!
I’ll tell you how it is. These strangers came
to bring me messages Orestes sent.
And, strangers, please forgive what he just said.
PEASANT: What did they tell you? Is he still alive?
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ELECTRA: So goes their story, and I think it’s true.
PEASANT: And does he think of you and your dead father?
ELECTRA: He hopes, but helplessly; an exile’s weak.
PEASANT: What message did they bring you from Orestes?
ELECTRA: He sent them here to see how much I suffer.
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PEASANT: Part they can see, and part, I guess, you told them?
ELECTRA: Yes, they understand; nothing’s left out.
PEASANT: Then why are they still waiting here outside?
(to the strangers) Come in, come in! You’ve brought great news, you’ve earned
a welcome; all that’s in my house is yours.
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Servants, lift the bags and take them in.*23
No protests: you’ve come from a friend of ours,
so you’re our friend. Although I was born poor
I’ll never show an ill-bred attitude.
ORESTES: (to Electra) My god! Can this be your secret husband?
The one who doesn’t want to shame my name?
ELECTRA: Yes, he’s called my husband. It’s no fun.
ORESTES: Ye Gods! There’s no art to tell a decent man,
since generations work haphazardly.
I’ve encountered worthless men, the sons
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of noble fathers; good men born from bad;
and I’ve seen hunger in a rich man’s mind,
a poor man’s body housing thoughts sublime.
By wealth? That standard’s useless and corrupt.
Or by who has the least? But being poor
can make you sick, and teaches crime through need.
By force of arms? But who could testify
on moral worth, while staring down the spear?
Don’t try to sort it out, just let it go.>*24
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This man, you see, is no great lord in Argos,
he’s not puffed up by pride in family;
he’s from the many, but a noble man.
So stop this foolishness, stop wandering round
in empty circles: judge nobility
by how a person acts with other people.
and households, while those empty muscle-heads
look pretty in the market-place, that’s all.
Strong arms withstand the spear no more than weak.
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Courage and character, that’s what it takes.>*25
But as for me, I’m here and I’m deserving;
so is the absent son of Agamemnon
for whom I’ve come. So we’ll accept this welcome.
Go, servants, go inside the house. I’d rather have
a poor but willing host than one who’s rich.
I was impressed by how he welcomed us.
But still, I wish your brother had been here,
to lead us gladly to a house of joy.
Perhaps he’ll come: Apollo’s oracles
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are sure, though mortal prophecy is not.
(Orestes and Pylades go into the house)
CHORUS: Electra, now, more than before, my heart
grows warm with joy. Maybe, just maybe, now
your fortune’s rising; things may turn out well.
ELECTRA: (to Peasant) You silly man! You know how poor your house is;
why did you ask these strangers in, your betters?
PEASANT: What’s wrong? If they’re as noble as they seem,
won’t they be happy with great men or small?
ELECTRA: Well, no. You got it wrong. You’re lower class.
So then: go find my father’s dear old friend,
the tutor, who lives down beside the river,
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the border cutting Argos off from Sparta.
He’s exiled from the town, his only friends
are sheep. Tell him to come here, to our house,
and bring some food to share for dinner-time.
He will be glad and surely thank the gods,
hearing the boy he saved is still alive.
We wouldn’t get a thing from Father’s house,
from my mean mother: she’d be pained to hear
her son, Orestes, is alive and well.
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PEASANT: Well, if you think it best, I’ll take the news
to that old man. But go, inside the house,
quick as you can, and make things nice in there.
If a woman wants to, she can find
plenty to make a meal. We have at home
enough to fill their bellies for today.
(Electra goes inside.)
Thinking of things like this, my mind soon turns
to money—what great power it has, to give
to guests, and buy the things you need to save
your life when you get sick. But daily food
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costs little, and the same amount of bread
will fill your stomach, rich or poor alike.
(Peasant goes into the house.)
strophe 1
CHORUS: Remember the famous ships that once embarked
for Troy with countless oars
that set the nymphs of the sea to dancing,
and all the while the dolphin, lover of pipe music,*26
twists and turns around
the sea-dark prows,
taking Thetis’ son,*27
so light on his springy feet,
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Achilles, along with Agamemnon
to the shores of Troy.
antistrophe 1
The Nereids left the headlands of Euboea
and brought the labors of Hephaestus’ anvil,*28
bearing the shield, the golden arms,
up over Pelion and the holy glens
of craggy Ossa,*29 where the nymphs keep watch,
seeking girls.*30 And there the horseman father*31
raised a light for Greece,
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the child of the sea-goddess Thetis,
quick-footed runner for Atreus’ sons.
strophe 2
I heard, in the harbor of Nauplia*32
from a man who came from Troy,
that on the circle of your famous shield,
O son of Thetis,
were worked these images
of fear for the Trojans:*33
and on the part that ran around the rim,
Perseus over the sea, on flying sandals,
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held up the Gorgon’s head, throat-slit,*34
with Hermes, messenger of Zeus,
boy born to Maia
in the countryside.*35
antistrophe
2
And in the middle of the shield there shone
the circle of the sun
with its winged horses
and choruses of dancing stars up in the sky,
the Pleiades, the Hyades, to turn
the eyes of Hector.*36
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On the helmet of beaten gold, in their talons
Sphinxes carry their prey, the prize of song.*37
And on the curving corslet round his ribs, with breath of fire
away rushed the lioness,
quick on her claws,
when she saw Pegasus, colt of Peirene.*38
epode
And on his bloody sword the four-hoofed horses galloped,
black dust rose round their backs.
But the king of those men who suffered by the spear
was murdered,
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daughter of Tyndareus,
by your affair, and by your wicked plans.*39
For that, may those who live in heaven
one day send you death as punishment!
Blood, more blood,
I’ll see more blood
dripping from your throat slashed through with iron.
(Enter Old Man, who makes his way up toward the hut of Electra, laden down with flowers, a lamb, wineskins, and other food supplies.)
OLD MAN: My princess, my young mistress, where is she?
Where’s Agamemnon’s child, whom I helped raise?
What a steep trudge it is up to her house!
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I’m old and bent, my wrinkled legs are shaking:
not sure if I can make it. But I must!
I’ll drag these old bones up to see my friends.
Daughter! I see you now, right by the house.
I’ve come to bring you this, a fat young lamb
—I stole it from the flock to give you: Here!
And garlands, and this cheese I took from storage,
and vintage wine, the wealth of Dionysus:
the nose is excellent! Add just a cup,
no more, to some less alcoholic drink.*40
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Delicious! Now, go take this to the guests.
I want to use my ragged clothes to wipe
my eyes: my floods of tears have made them wet.
ELECTRA: You’re crying, sir? Your face is soaked. But why?
Have I reminded you of painful things?
Or are you sad about my brother’s exile,
and Father—whom you carried in your arms
and cared for as a boy—much good it did you!
OLD MAN: I know; but still I managed this: I took
a detour on my journey, by his tomb.
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No one was there, and I lay down, and wept,
and from this flask I’ve brought your guests, I poured
wine for the dead, and laid the myrtle round.
But on the pyre itself I saw a gift:
a sheep with black wool, with its blood just spilt,
and locks of yellow hair from someone’s head.
So I was puzzled, child: who could have dared
approach the tomb? No Argive, that’s for sure.
Maybe your brother came there secretly,
and honored his poor father’s tomb like this.
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Look at this hair, compare it to your own:
see if your color matches with the lock.
It’s natural, those who share one father’s blood
are physically alike in many ways.*41
ELECTRA: What a silly thing to say, old man!
You think my hero brother would sneak here
in secret? He’s not frightened of Aegisthus!
And how can you expect the locks to match?
Blue-blooded men teach roughness to their hair
by wrestling. Female hair’s acquired by combing.*42
530
In any case, people who aren’t related
often have matching hair color. You know that.
OLD MAN: Then step into the marks his boots have made;
see if your foot will match its size, my child.
ELECTRA: But how could there be any print at all
on stony ground? Or even if there were,
the man and woman’s feet won’t match together
even for siblings! Male is more than female.*43
OLD MAN: Well, if your brother has come to this land,*44
wouldn’t you recognize the cloth you wove,
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in which I wrapped him when I saved his life?
ELECTRA: But I was still a child when he escaped.
I wasn’t weaving. And, even if I had,
how could he still be wearing baby clothes?
Just use your head! His clothes grew, with his body.
No! Some stranger must have come and taken pity,
seeing his tomb, and left this lock of hair.*45
OLD MAN: Well, then, where are your guests? I’d like to see them
and ask them what they know about your brother.
(Enter Orestes and Pylades, from the house.)
ELECTRA: Here they are now, they’re hurrying out to us.
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OLD MAN: (to Electra) They look well-born, but you can’t trust all that.
Lots of so-called noblemen are bad.
But never mind. (to Orestes and Pylades) Greetings and welcome, strangers!
ORESTES: The same to you, sir.—Tell me, please, Electra,
what’s this old man’s connection with your people?
ELECTRA: This is the man who brought my father up.
ORESTES: Really? The one who stole away your brother?
ELECTRA: The one who saved him—if he’s still alive.
(The Old Man stares at Orestes.)
ORESTES: He’s staring at me!
He looks as if he’s checking out a coin.
But why? Is he comparing me to someone?
(The Old Man walks around Orestes.)
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ELECTRA: He’s glad to see a man who is so close…
ORESTES: To Orestes? Yes, but why the circling?
ELECTRA: You know, I’m wondering the exact same thing.
OLD MAN: Princess Electra! Pray and praise the gods!
ELECTRA: But what am I supposed to pray about?
OLD MAN: The long lost treasure that the gods revealed!
ELECTRA: All right: “Ye Gods!”—But what are you talking about?
OLD MAN: (pointing to Orestes)
You’re looking at your dearest love, my child!
ELECTRA: I’ve seen him.
(to the Old Man): Are you sure you’re feeling well?
OLD MAN: Better than well! I’m looking at your brother!
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ELECTRA: What are you saying? This goes beyond all hope.
OLD MAN: He’s here! Orestes! Son of Agamemnon!
ELECTRA: Have you seen some sign to prove this claim?
OLD MAN: A scar along his eyebrow, which he got
chasing a fawn, with you, in your father’s house.
ELECTRA: What’s this? I see a fall has marked him. But—
OLD MAN: You hesitate to fall into his arms?
ELECTRA: No, no, no longer! This is evidence
to make my heart believe. (to Orestes)
I’ve got you back,
beyond my hopes, after so long—
ORES.: So long!
ELECTRA: I never thought—
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ORES.: And I, I never dreamed—
ELECTRA: And is it you?
ORES.: It’s me, your only ally.
To work: I’ll enter, draw the latch, and then*46
I’m sure I will succeed. There are no gods,
if evil triumphs over righteousness.
CHORUS:*47 Now you’ve come, you’ve come, bright day has dawned!
The day we waited for so long! The city sees the light!
Here he is, our sh
ining star, once lost,
wandering long ago, in exile from his home.
The fugitive returns!
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A god, a god is bringing us success.
Be happy, dear Electra!
Lift up your hands and raise your voice,
pray to the gods for luck,
good luck and fortune,
as your brother first sets foot here in our city.
ORESTES: This loving welcome gives me so much joy.
I hope in time to pay back joy for joy.
But, old sir—glad you’re here: now tell me, please,
how to take vengeance on my father’s killer,
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and his sinful partner, my own mother.
Do I have supporters here in Argos?
Or am I out of friends and out of luck?
Should I creep in by night, or look for help?
Tell me which way to turn on those I hate!
OLD MAN: Poor boy! You’ve got no friends. Your luck is bad.
It’s rare to find a friend prepared to share
bad times and good, stick by you when you’re down.
You left your friends no cause to hope: they saw
your life in ruins. Listen to me, then:
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everything’s up to you: use strength and luck
to claim your father’s house and city back.
ORESTES: What should I do to get this good result?
OLD MAN: Kill him—Thyestes’ son*48—and kill your mother.
ORESTES: I came to win that crown. But how exactly?
OLD MAN: Don’t think of getting past the city walls.
ORESTES: I guess he’s posted lookouts armed with spears?
OLD MAN: He has. He’s scared of you. He hardly sleeps.
ORESTES: All right: then guide me on what’s best to do.
OLD MAN: Listen: a new idea just came to me.
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ORESTES: May your advice and all my deeds be good.
OLD MAN: I saw Aegisthus on my journey here.
ORESTES: It must have been an omen. Whereabouts?
OLD MAN: Near to these fields, down where the horses graze.
ORESTES: My luck has changed! What was he doing there?
OLD MAN: Making the Nymphs a feast, or so it seemed.*49
ORESTES: To bless his children, or a future child?
OLD MAN: I only know he had an ox to kill.
ORESTES: How many men were with him? Just his slaves?
OLD MAN: No Argives, just the people from his house.
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ORESTES: No one who’d see and recognize me, then?
OLD MAN: Those household slaves have never seen your face.
ORESTES: But if we win, would they be on our side?
OLD MAN: Yes, that’s the way of slaves: good news for you!