EPISODE I
Chorus now changing to Blank Verse. We meant well, but do as you will, we will follow you.—Elec. I am indeed ashamed; but remember the trouble I am in: to be hated by my mother, house-mate with my father's murderers; with Aegisthus sitting on my father's throne by day and pouring libations on the hearth he violated; my mother not living in fear of the Erinnys, but making a red-letter day of the day my father died: I, alas! keep his birth day in solitary feast. I am bitterly chidden when caught weeping, and threatened when news comes of Orestes: all hope is far.—Aegisthus is from home, or she dared not have indulged her grief even thus far. {327}
Enter her sister, Chrysothemis, bearing funeral offerings. She remonstrates with Electra for uselessly wailing, instead of adapting herself to her fate.—Elec. retorts that she has learned her lesson by rote. She advises to hate when there is strength to back hatred, yet she will not join in working revenge.—Electra covets not her choice of ease and wealth, and to be called her mother's child, while it is open to her to be her father's!—Cho. moderates: each may learn something from the other.—Chrysoth. is accustomed to Electra's want of charity and would not now have accosted her except to warn her of new evils: they mean to get her out of the country and shut up in a dungeon where she shall never see the light of day.—A rapid stichomuthic dialogue follows as to temporizing and resisting, and then Chrys. is going to do her errand.—Elec. enquires what this is, and learns that Clytaemnestra, disturbed by a dream, is sending propitiatory libations.
A rumor ran {417}
That she had seen our father's presence come
(Yes, thine and mine) a second time to light,
And then that he upon the hearth stood up,
And took the sceptre which he bore of old,
Which now Aegisthus bears, and fixed it there,
And from it sprang a sucker fresh and strong,
And all Mycenae rested in its shade.
This tale I heard from some one who was near
When she declared her vision to the Sun;
But more than this I heard not, save that she
Now sends me hither through that fright of hers.
Electra catching a gleam of hope, adjures her to disobey, and in place of Clytaemnestra's offerings to put on the tomb their own: Electra's own withered lock and untrimmed girdle; and instead of propitiatory prayer pray to send Orestes.—Cho. approves and Chrysothemis catches the spirit and exit. {471}
CHORAL INTERLUDE I
in Strophe, Antistrophe and Epode.
If my mind misleads me not, Vengeance is coming with hands that bear the might of Righteousness; a new courage springs through my veins at these propitious dreams, that Agamemnon will not forget for aye, nor the axe that slew him. She too is coming, Erinnys shod with brass, dread form with many a foot and many a hand: never will the boding sign come falsely to those who did the deed, or men will find no prophecies in dreams.—Ah dreadful chariot race of Pelops, foundation of all the ills which have never since left the house. {315}
EPISODE II
Enter from Palace Clytaemnestra and Attendant.—Clyt. It is Aegisthus' absence that makes you bold enough to appear outside the Palace and disgrace us. I know your reproaches: but it was Justice, not I, that slew your father; what right had he to slay my child, born of my travails, and not some other Argive children, Menelaus's for example, whose the quarrel was? Had Hades a special lust to feed on my children?—Elec. This time at least it is not I who begin. I could reply if permitted.—Clyt. permits.—Elec. You admit the monstrous admission, that you slew your husband—for justice sake? or for the 'coward base' who is your paramour? You well know that the offence for which Artemis demanded the sacrifice was Agamemnon's slaughter of the Sacred Stag, and from his seed therefore the atonement must come which so unwillingly he made. And if not, is your plea blood for blood? then you will be the first to suffer. How can you plead thus while living in open guilt with him who slew your husband? It is a cruel mistress, not a mother, I revile: you charge me with rearing Orestes as minister of vengeance, I would indeed if I had strength! So proclaim me a monster, that will make me a fitting daughter of my mother.—Cho. Here is passion rather than care to speak right.—Clyt. Thus to show scorn for her mother! she will go all lengths and feel no shame.—Elec. Shame I do feel, but the deeds which beget the shame are yours.—Clyt. By Artemis, you shall pay for this when Aegisthus comes!—Elec. I thought I had leave to speak.—Clyt. Will you not be silent and let me perform my rites without disorder?—Elec. Now I am silent (Retires).—Clyt. then proceeds to offer her gifts to Phoebus, with prayer to avert the ill omen of the past night: as her prayer "is not amongst friends," she can allude but darkly to all she means, but He is a God and will understand all she leaves unsaid. {659}
Enter by the Distance-door Attendant of Orestes.
Enquiring of Chorus he finds he is arrived before the people he is seeking, and announces to Clytaemnestra that Orestes is dead. Electra utters a wail of agony, while Clyt. asks for particulars. Then follows the regular 'Messenger's Speech,' a detailed and graphic account of a chariot race, in which he was thrown and killed.—Clyt. trembles between joy at deliverance from her suspense, and a touch of motherly feeling; still she triumphs over the now hopeless Electra: for him, what is is well.
Elec. Hear this, thou Power avenging him who died! Clyt. Right well she heard, and what she heard hath wrought.
The Messenger is taken into the Palace, Electra left to wail without, with attempt of Chorus to condole (lyric concerto). {870}
Enter from Tomb of Agamemnon Chrysothemis jubilant and bearing a lock of hair of Orestes.
She eagerly insists that Orestes is come; shows the lock and describes the libations that no other would pour on that tomb. Bit by bit Electra checks her joy, and informs her of the news. They mourn together, till Electra breaks out with proposal, that since their friends are snatched from them, and they two are left alone, they shall themselves work their revenge; that will be the safest and will bring glory: 'the sisters twain who saved their father's house.'—Chor. This requires consideration.—Chry. Will you never learn that you are a woman and not a man? Elec. then declares she will do it herself, and after a stichomuthic contest exit Chrysothemis. {1057}
CHORAL INTERLUDE II
In two Strophes and Antistrophes.
The storks show a pattern of filial piety: why do not men follow it? By Zeus and Themis there is a punishment for the unfilial; may the voice crying for vengeance reach the sons of Atreus below! Their house is full of woe; Electra, alone faithful, is ready to face death if only she may destroy the twin furies. The great and good will purchase glory with life; so may'st thou prevail and gain the name of the best of daughters. {1096}
EPISODE III
Enter from Distance-door Orestes, Pylades and Attendants.
Orestes informs the Chorus, and Electra as one of the household, that they bear the urn containing the ashes of Orestes, whose death they had sent forward a messenger to announce. Electra begs to clasp the urn and pours over it a flood of grief; here is nothingness to represent the dear boy she sent out in bloom of youth; and all her forethought has perished! And he died amid strangers without her to take part in the funeral rites! All her sweet toil in nursing him with more than mother's love is gone! All is gone—father, mother, brother! She would go too; they ever shared an equal lot; now let her go to him, ashes to ashes! {1170}
Chor. Thou, O Electra, take good heed, wast born Of mortal father; mortal, too, Orestes, Yield not too much to sorrow. Ores. [Trembling.] Woe is me. What shall I say? Ah, whither find my way, In words that have no issue? for I fail In strength to curb my speech. Elec. What sorrow now Disturbs thee? Wherefore art thou speaking thus? Ores. Is this Electra's noble form I see? Elec. That self-same form indeed, in piteous case. Ores. Alas, alas, for this sad lot of thine. Elec. Surely thou dost not wail, O friend, for me! Ores. O form most basely, godlessly misused. Elec. Thy words, ill-omened, fall, O friend, on none But me alone. Ores. Alas, for this thy state, Unwedded, hopeless. Elec. Why, O friend, on me With such fixed glance still gazing dost thou groan? Ores. How little knew I of my fortune's ills! Elec. What have I said to throw such light on them? Ores. Now that I see thee thus, with many woes Clothed as a garment. Elec. Yet thou dost but see A few of all my evils. Ores. What could be More sad than these to look on? Elec. This, to live And sit at meat with murderers. Ores. With whose? What evil dost thou indicate by this? Elec. My father's; 'tis to them, against my will I live in bondage. Ores. Who constrains thee, then? Elec. My mother she is called; and yet in nought Is she what mother should be. Ores. In what acts? By blows and stripes, or this unseemly life? Elec. Both blows, unseemly life, and all vile deeds. Ores. And is there none to help? Not one to check? Elec. No, none. Who was . . . thou buryest him as dust. Ores. O sad one! How I pitied thee long since. Elec. Know, then, thou art the only pitying one. {1200} Ores. For I alone am hurt by these thy woes. Elec. Surely thou dost not come by line of blood Connected with us. Ores. I could tell thee all, Were these thy friends. Elec. Most friendly are they; speak As unto faithful hearers. Ores. Put away That urn awhile that thou may'st hear the whole. Elec. Ah! By the Gods, O stranger, ask not that. Ores. Do what I bid thee, and thou shalt not err. Elec. Now, by thy beard, deprive me not of that I hold most dear. Ores. I say it cannot be. Elec. Ah me, Orestes, wretched shall I be, Bereaved of this thy tomb. Ores. Hush, hush such words; Thou has no cause for wailing. Elec. Have no cause! Do I not wail my brother, who is dead? Ores. Thou hast no call to utter speech like this. Elec. And am I so dishonoured by the dead? Ores. By none art thou dishonoured. But this thing Is nought to thee. Elec. And yet it needs must be, If 'tis Orestes' body that I bear. Ores. Except in show of speech it is not his. Elec. Where, then, is that poor exile's sepulchre? Ores. Of those that live there is no sepulchre. {1219} Elec. What say'st thou, boy? Ores. No falsehood what I say. Elec. And does he live? Ores. He lives, if I have life. Elec. What, art thou he? Ores. Look thou upon this seal, My father's once, and learn if I speak truth. Elec. O blessed day! Ores. Most blessed, I too own. Elec. O voice! And art thou come? Ores. No longer learn That news from others. Elec. And I have thee here, Here in my grasp! Ores. So may'st thou always have me. Elec. O dearest friends, my fellow-citizens, Look here on this Orestes, dead indeed In feigned craft, and by that feigning saved. Chor. We see it, daughter; and at what has chanced A tear of gladness trickles from our eyes. {1231}
A passionate dialogue (in mixed verse: Electra, speaking lyrics, Orestes Blank Verse) of exultation and weeping succeeds: until finally Orestes is calling back their thoughts to the plans of vengeance when enter from Palace Attendant of Orestes, who chides them for their loud joy, which he has barely been able to prevent from reaching the ears of Clytaemnestra. Electra is informed who this attendant is, and joyfully recognizes him and calls him father for his faithfulness. He cuts conversation short and hurries Orestes and Pylades within. Electra with a prayer retires. {1383}
CHORAL INTERLUDE III
Short expression of the sense of a critical moment: Strophe, Ares and the Avengers are on their way—Antistrophe, they have passed beneath the roof-tree. {1397}