Stories from the Greek Tragedians

by Alfred John Church

"Where is he? This is passing strange. Whose then could be these offerings on the tomb?"

"Some one hath put them for a remembrance of the dead Orestes."

"Woe is me, and I made haste with the good tidings, as I thought, and knew not what new trouble worse than the old had fallen upon us."

Then said Electra, "Hear now what I purpose. Thou knowest that we are utterly bereaved of friends, for Death hath devoured them all. Now, while Orestes yet lived and was prosperous, I hoped that he would come to avenge our father's death. But now that he is dead, I look to thee, that thou shouldest make common cause with me and work this vengeance on them that slew him. Canst thou endure that we should live deprived of the wealth that was our father's; and also that we should grow old unmated? For know that a husband thou shalt never have, for indeed Ægisthus is not unwise that he should suffer children to be born of thee or me to be a manifest damage to himself. But if thou wilt hearken to me, first thou wilt do that which is fitting to thy father and brother that are dead; and next thou wilt win great renown, and be married to a noble mate, for all men are wont to regard that which is worthy. And surely in days to come some man, citizen or stranger, that seeth us will say, 'Look, my friends, at these sisters, for they wrought deliverance for the house of their father, and spared not their own lives, but slew their enemies in the day of their prosperity. These must we love and reverence; these on feast days, and when the city is gathered together, must we honour by reason of their courage.' Wherefore, my sister, be of good heart. Be bold for thy father's sake and for thy brother's, for mine also and for thine, that we may be delivered from these troubles. For to them of noble breeding to live basely is a shame."

But Chrysothemis made answer, "O my sister, how didst thou find such daring purpose as this, making ready thyself as for fight, and calling me to follow? Knowest thou not that thou art a woman and no man, and that thou art weaker than thine enemies, and that their good luck ever increaseth and ours groweth less and less? And what will it profit us if we get great renown, yet die in shameful fashion? And yet to die I think not such loss, but to wish to die and not attain to it, suffering torture or bonds. Keep thy anger within bounds. What thou hast said I will count as unsaid. Only yield to them that are stronger."

And after many words, Electra urging her sister to this deed and the other excusing herself, the two parted in great anger. And Chrysothemis went into the palace, but Electra abode where she was. And to her, after a while, came Orestes, but disguised that no man might know him, and asked the Argive maidens that stood by, whether the house that he beheld was the palace of King Ægisthus, and when he heard that it was so, he bade them tell the King that certain Phocian strangers were come seeking him. But when Electra heard it, she said, "Comest thou with proof of this ill news that we have heard?"

And Orestes made answer, "I know not what news thou speakest of, but the old man, Strophius, the Phocian, bade me bring tidings of Orestes."

"What are thy tidings, though I tremble to hear them?"

"We are come bringing all that remaineth of him in this urn."

And when Electra saw it she cried that they should give the urn into her hands; and Orestes bade them do so. And she took it and said, "O Orestes, that wast dearer to me than all men else, how different is this coming of thine to that which I had hoped! Lovely wert thou when I sent thee from this house, and now I hold thee in my hands and thou art naught. Would to the Gods thou hadst died that day when thy father was slain; for now thou art dead, an exile, and in the land of strangers, and I paid thee no office of kindness nor took thy ashes from the funeral fire; but this did strangers for thee, and now thou comest a handful of ashes in a little urn. Woe is me for the wasted pains of nurture and the toil wherewith out of a willing heart I tended thee! For thy mother loved thee not more than I, nor was any one but I thy nurse. And now all this hath departed. My father is dead, and thou art dead, and my enemies laugh me to scorn, and thy mother that is no mother is mad with joy. Let me die with thee, for 'tis the dead alone whom I see to be quit of pain."