by Euripides
‘Orestes, Electra and Hermes at Agamemnon’s tomb’ as depicted on a Lucanian red-figure pelike, c. 380–370 BC
CONTENTS
CHARACTERS IN THE PLAY
ELECTRA
‘Electra at the Tomb of Agamemnon’ by Frederic Leighton, c. 1869
CHARACTERS IN THE PLAY
CLYTEMNESTRA, Queen of Argos and Mycenae; widow of Agamemnon.
ELECTRA, daughter of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra.
ORESTES, son of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra, now in banishment.
A PEASANT, husband of Electra.
AN OLD MAN, formerly servant to Agamemnon.
PYLADES, son of Strophios, King of Phocis; friend to Orestes.
AEGISTHUS, usurping King of Argos and Mycenae, now husband of Clytemnestra.
The Heroes CASTOR and POLYDEUCES.
CHORUS of Argive Women, with their LEADER.
FOLLOWERS of ORESTES; HANDMAIDS of CLYTEMNESTRA.
The Scene is laid in the mountains of Argos. The play was first produced between the years 414 and 412 B.C.
ELECTRA
The scene represents a hut on a desolate mountain side; the river Inachus is visible in the distance. The time is the dusk of early dawn, before sunrise. The PEASANT is discovered in front of the hut.
PEASANT.
Old gleam on the face of the world, I give thee hail,
River of Argos land, where sail on sail
The long ships met, a thousand, near and far,
When Agamemnon walked the seas in war;
Who smote King Priam in the dust, and burned
The storied streets of Ilion, and returned
Above all conquerors, heaping tower and fane
Of Argos high with spoils of Eastern slain.
So in far lands he prospered; and at home
His own wife trapped and slew him. ’Twas the doom
Aegisthus wrought, son of his father’s foe.
Gone is that King, and the old spear laid low
That Tantalus wielded when the world was young.
Aegisthus hath his queen, and reigns among
His people. And the children here alone,
Orestes and Electra, buds unblown
Of man and womanhood, when forth to Troy
He shook his sail and left them — lo, the boy
Orestes, ere Aegisthus’ hand could fall,
Was stolen from Argos — borne by one old thrall,
Who served his father’s boyhood, over seas
Far off, and laid upon King Strophios’ knees
In Phocis, for the old king’s sake. But here
The maid Electra waited, year by year,
Alone, till the warm days of womanhood
Drew nigh and suitors came of gentle blood
In Hellas. Then Aegisthus was in fear
Lest she be wed in some great house, and bear
A son to avenge her father. Close he wrought
Her prison in his house, and gave her not
To any wooer. Then, since even this
Was full of peril, and the secret kiss
Of some bold prince might find her yet, and rend
Her prison walls, Aegisthus at the end
Would slay her. Then her mother, she so wild
Aforetime, pled with him and saved her child.
Her heart had still an answer for her lord
Murdered, but if the child’s blood spoke, what word
Could meet the hate thereof? After that day
Aegisthus thus decreed: whoso should slay
The old king’s wandering son, should win rich meed
Of gold; and for Electra, she must wed
With me, not base of blood — in that I stand
True Mycenaean — but in gold and land
Most poor, which maketh highest birth as naught.
So from a powerless husband shall be wrought
A powerless peril. Had some man of might
Possessed her, he had called perchance to light
Her father’s blood, and unknown vengeances
Risen on Aegisthus yet.
Aye, mine she is:
But never yet these arms — the Cyprian knows
My truth! — have clasped her body, and she goes
A virgin still. Myself would hold it shame
To abase this daughter of a royal name.
I am too lowly to love violence. Yea,
Orestes too doth move me, far away,
Mine unknown brother! Will he ever now
Come back and see his sister bowed so low?
Doth any deem me fool, to hold a fair
Maid in my room and seek no joy, but spare
Her maidenhood? If any such there be,
Let him but look within. The fool is he
In gentle things, weighing the more and less
Of love by his own heart’s untenderness.
[As he ceases ELECTRA comes out of the hut. She is in mourning garb, and carries a large pitcher on her head. She speaks without observing the PEASANT’S presence.
ELECTRA.
Dark shepherdess of many a golden star,
Dost see me, Mother Night? And how this jar
Hath worn my earth-bowed head, as forth and fro
For water to the hillward springs I go?
Not for mere stress of need, but purpose set,
That never day nor night God may forget
Aegisthus’ sin: aye, and perchance a cry
Cast forth to the waste shining of the sky
May find my father’s ear…. The woman bred
Of Tyndareus, my mother — on her head
Be curses! — from my house hath outcast me;
She hath borne children to our enemy;
She hath made me naught, she hath made Orestes naught….
[As the bitterness of her tone increases, the PEASANT comes forward.
PEASANT.
What wouldst thou now, my sad one, ever fraught
With toil to lighten my toil? And so soft
Thy nurture was! Have I not chid thee oft,
And thou wilt cease not, serving without end?
ELECTRA (turning to him with impulsive affection).
O friend, my friend, as God might be my friend,
Thou only hast not trampled on my tears.
Life scarce can be so hard, ‘mid many fears
And many shames, when mortal heart can find
Somewhere one healing touch, as my sick mind
Finds thee…. And should I wait thy word, to endure
A little for thine easing, yea, or pour
My strength out in thy toiling fellowship?
Thou hast enough with fields and kine to keep;
’Tis mine to make all bright within the door.
’Tis joy to him that toils, when toil is o’er,
To find home waiting, full of happy things.
PEASANT.
If so it please thee, go thy way. The springs
Are not far off. And I before the morn
Must drive my team afield, and sow the corn
In the hollows. — Not a thousand prayers can gain
A man’s bare bread, save an he work amain.
[ELECTRA and the PEASANT depart on their several ways. After a few moments there enter stealthily two armed men, ORESTES and PYLADES.
ORESTES.
Thou art the first that I have known in deed
True and my friend, and shelterer of my need.
Thou only, Pylades, of all that knew,
Hast held Orestes of some worth, all through
These years of helplessness, wherein I lie
Downtrodden by the murderer — yea, and by
The murderess, my mother!… I am come,
Fresh from the cleansing of Apollo, home
To Argos — and my coming no man yet
Knoweth — to pay the bloody twain their debt
Of blood. This very night I crept alone
To my dead father’s grave, an
d poured thereon
My heart’s first tears and tresses of my head
New-shorn, and o’er the barrow of the dead
Slew a black lamb, unknown of them that reign
In this unhappy land…. I am not fain
To pass the city gates, but hold me here
Hard on the borders. So my road is clear
To fly if men look close and watch my way;
If not, to seek my sister. For men say
She dwelleth in these hills, no more a maid
But wedded. I must find her house, for aid
To guide our work, and learn what hath betid
Of late in Argos. — Ha, the radiant lid
Of Dawn’s eye lifteth! Come, friend; leave we now
This trodden path. Some worker of the plough,
Or serving damsel at her early task
Will presently come by, whom we may ask
If here my sister dwells. But soft! Even now
I see some bondmaid there, her death-shorn brow
Bending beneath its freight of well-water.
Lie close until she pass; then question her.
A slave might help us well, or speak some sign
Of import to this work of mine and thine.
[The two men retire into ambush. ELECTRA enters, returning from the well.
ELECTRA.
Onward, O labouring tread,
As on move the years;
Onward amid thy tears,
O happier dead!
Let me remember. I am she, [Strophe 1.
Agamemnon’s child, and the mother of me
Clytemnestra, the evil Queen,
Helen’s sister. And folk, I ween,
That pass in the streets call yet my name
Electra…. God protect my shame!
For toil, toil is a weary thing,
And life is heavy about my head;
And thou far off, O Father and King,
In the lost lands of the dead.
A bloody twain made these things be;
One was thy bitterest enemy,
And one the wife that lay by thee.
Brother, brother, on some far shore [Antistrophe 1.
Hast thou a city, is there a door
That knows thy footfall, Wandering One?
Who left me, left me, when all our pain
Was bitter about us, a father slain,
And a girl that wept in her room alone.
Thou couldst break me this bondage sore,
Only thou, who art far away,
Loose our father, and wake once more….
Zeus, Zeus, dost hear me pray?…
The sleeping blood and the shame and the doom!
O feet that rest not, over the foam
Of distant seas, come home, come home!
What boots this cruse that I carry? [Strophe 2.
O, set free my brow!
For the gathered tears that tarry
Through the day and the dark till now,
Now in the dawn are free,
Father, and flow beneath
The floor of the world, to be
As a song in she house of Death:
From the rising up of the day
They guide my heart alway,
The silent tears unshed,
And my body mourns for the dead;
My cheeks bleed silently,
And these bruised temples keep
Their pain, remembering thee
And thy bloody sleep.
Be rent, O hair of mine head!
As a swan crying alone
Where the river windeth cold,
For a loved, for a silent one,
Whom the toils of the fowler hold,
I cry, Father, to thee,
O slain in misery!
The water, the wan water, [Antistrophe 2.
Lapped him, and his head
Drooped in the bed of slaughter
Low, as one wearièd;
Woe for the edgèd axe,
And woe for the heart of hate,
Houndlike about thy tracks,
O conqueror desolate,
From Troy over land and sea,
Till a wife stood waiting thee;
Not with crowns did she stand,
Nor flowers of peace in her hand;
With Aegisthus’ dagger drawn
For her hire she strove,
Through shame and through blood alone;
And won her a traitor’s love.
[As she ceases there enter from right and left the CHORUS, consisting of women of Argos, young and old, in festal dress.
CHORUS.
Some Women.
Child of the mighty dead, [Strophe.
Electra, lo, my way
To thee in the dawn hath sped,
And the cot on the mountain grey,
For the Watcher hath cried this day:
He of the ancient folk,
The walker of waste and hill,
Who drinketh the milk of the flock;
And he told of Hera’s will;
For the morrow’s morrow now
They cry her festival,
And before her throne shall bow
Our damsels all.
ELECTRA.
Not unto joy, nor sweet
Music, nor shining of gold,
The wings of my spirit beat.
Let the brides of Argos hold
Their dance in the night, as of old;
I lead no dance; I mark
No beat as the dancers sway;
With tears I dwell in the dark,
And my thought is of tears alway,
To the going down of the day.
Look on my wasted hair
And raiment…. This that I bear,
Is it meet for the King my sire,
And her whom the King begot?
For Troy, that was burned with fire
And forgetteth not?
CHORUS.
Other Women.
Hera is great! — Ah, come, [Antistrophe.
Be kind; and my hand shall bring
Fair raiment, work of the loom,
And many a golden thing,
For joyous robe-wearing.
Deemest thou this thy woe
Shall rise unto God as prayer,
Or bend thine haters low?
Doth God for thy pain have care?
Not tears for the dead nor sighs,
But worship and joy divine
Shall win thee peace in thy skies,
O daughter mine!
ELECTRA.
No care cometh to God
For the voice of the helpless; none
For the crying of ancient blood.
Alas for him that is gone,
And for thee, O wandering one:
That now, methinks, in a land
Of the stranger must toil for hire,
And stand where the poor men stand,
A-cold by another’s fire,
O son of the mighty sire:
While I in a beggar’s cot
On the wrecked hills, changing not,
Starve in my soul for food;
But our mother lieth wed
In another’s arms, and blood
Is about her bed.
LEADER.
On all of Greece she wrought great jeopardy,
Thy mother’s sister, Helen, — and on thee.
[ORESTES and PYLADES move out from their concealment; ORESTES comes forward: PYLADES beckons to two ARMED SERVANTS and stays with them in the background.
ELECTRA.
Woe’s me! No more of wailing! Women, flee!
Strange armèd men beside the dwelling there
Lie ambushed! They are rising from their lair.
Back by the road, all you. I will essay
The house; and may our good feet save us!
ORESTES (between ELECTRA and the hut).
Stay,
Unhappy woman! Never fear my steel.
ELECTRA (in ut
ter panic).
O bright Apollo! Mercy! See, I kneel;
Slay me not.
ORESTES.
Others I have yet to slay
Less dear than thou.
ELECTRA.
Go from me! Wouldst thou lay
Hand on a body that is not for thee?
ORESTES.
None is there I would touch more righteously.
ELECTRA.
Why lurk’st thou by my house? And why a sword?
ORESTES.
Stay. Listen! Thou wilt not gainsay my word.
ELECTRA.
There — I am still. Do what thou wilt with me.
Thou art too strong.
ORESTES.
A word I bear to thee…
Word of thy brother.
ELECTRA.
Oh, friend! More than friend!
Living or dead?
ORESTES.
He lives; so let me send
My comfort foremost, ere the rest be heard.
ELECTRA.
God love thee for the sweetness of thy word!
ORESTES.
God love the twain of us, both thee and me.
ELECTRA.
He lives! Poor brother! In what land weareth he
His exile?
ORESTES.
Not one region nor one lot
His wasted life hath trod.
ELECTRA.
He lacketh not
For bread?
ORESTES.
Bread hath he; but a man is weak
In exile.
ELECTRA.
What charge laid he on thee? Speak.
ORESTES.
To learn if thou still live, and how the storm,
Living, hath struck thee.
ELECTRA.
That thou seest; this form
Wasted…
ORESTES.
Yea, riven with the fire of woe.
I sigh to look on thee.
ELECTRA.
My face; and, lo,
My temples of their ancient glory shorn.
ORESTES.
Methinks thy brother haunts thee, being forlorn;
Aye, and perchance thy father, whom they slew…
ELECTRA.
What should be nearer to me than those two?
ORESTES.
And what to him, thy brother, half so dear
As thou?
ELECTRA.
His is a distant love, not near
At need.
ORESTES.
But why this dwelling place, this life
Of loneliness?
ELECTRA (with sudden bitterness).
Stranger, I am a wife….
O better dead!
ORESTES.
That seals thy brother’s doom!
