THE ELECTRA OF EURIPIDES TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH RHYMING VERSEWITH EXPLANATORY NOTES BY GILBERT MURRAY, LL. D. , D. LITT. REGIUS PROFESSOR OF GREEK IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD FORTY-SECOND THOUSAND LONDON: GEORGE ALLEN & UNWIN LTDRUSKIN HOUSE, 40 MUSEUM STREET, W. C. 1 _First Edition, November_ 1905_Reprinted, November_ 1906 " _February_ 1908 " _March_ 1910 " _December_ 1910 " _February_ 1913 " _April_ 1914 " _June_ 1916 " _November_ 1919 " _April_ 1921 " _January_ 1923 " _May_ 1925 " _August_ 1927 " _January_ 1929 _(All rights reserved)_ PERFORMED ATTHE COURT THEATRE, LONDONIN 1907 _Printed in Great Britain byUnwin Brothers Ltd. , Woking_ Introduction[1] The _Electra_ of Euripides has the distinction of being, perhaps, the bestabused, and, one might add, not the best understood, of ancient tragedies. "A singular monument of poetical, or rather unpoetical perversity;" "thevery worst of all his pieces;" are, for instance, the phrases applied toit by Schlegel. Considering that he judged it by the standards ofconventional classicism, he could scarcely have arrived at any differentconclusion. For it is essentially, and perhaps consciously, a protestagainst those standards. So, indeed, is the tragedy of _The Trojan Women_;but on very different lines. The _Electra_ has none of the imaginativesplendour, the vastness, the intense poetry, of that wonderful work. It isa close-knit, powerful, well-constructed play, as realistic as the tragicconventions will allow, intellectual and rebellious. Its _psychology_reminds one of Browning, or even of Ibsen. To a fifth-century Greek all history came in the form of legend; and noless than three extant tragedies, Aeschylus' _Libation-Bearers_ (456B. C. ), Euripides' _Electra_ (413 B. C. ), and Sophocles' _Electra_ (dateunknown: but perhaps the latest of the three) are based on the particularpiece of legend or history now before us. It narrates how the son anddaughter of the murdered king, Agamemnon, slew, in due course of revenge, and by Apollo's express command, their guilty mother and her paramour. Homer had long since told the story, as he tells so many, simply andgrandly, without moral questioning and without intensity. The atmosphereis heroic. It is all a blood-feud between chieftains, in which Orestes, after seven years, succeeds in slaying his foe Aegisthus, who had killedhis father. He probably killed his mother also; but we are not directlytold so. His sister may have helped him, and he may possibly have gone madafterwards; but these painful issues are kept determinedly in the shade. Somewhat surprisingly, Sophocles, although by his time Electra andClytemnestra had become leading figures in the story and the mother-murderits essential climax, preserves a very similar atmosphere. His tragedy isenthusiastically praised by Schlegel for "the celestial purity, the freshbreath of life and youth, that is diffused over so dreadful a subject. ""Everything dark and ominous is avoided. Orestes enjoys the fulness ofhealth and strength. He is beset neither with doubts nor stings ofconscience. " Especially laudable is the "austerity" with which Aegisthusis driven into the house to receive, according to Schlegel, a speciallyignominious death! This combination of matricide and good spirits, however satisfactory tothe determined classicist, will probably strike most intelligent readersas a little curious, and even, if one may use the word at all inconnection with so powerful a play, undramatic. It becomes intelligible assoon as we observe that Sophocles was deliberately seeking what heregarded as an archaic or "Homeric" style (cf. Jebb, Introd. P. Xli. ); andthis archaism, in its turn, seems to me best explained as a consciousreaction against Euripides' searching and unconventional treatment of thesame subject (cf. Wilamowitz in _Hermes_, xviii. Pp. 214 ff. ). In theresult Sophocles is not only more "classical" than Euripides; he is moreprimitive by far than Aeschylus. For Aeschylus, though steeped in the glory of the world of legend, wouldnot lightly accept its judgment upon religious and moral questions, andabove all would not, in that region, play at make-believe. He would notelude the horror of this story by simply not mentioning it, like Homer, orby pretending that an evil act was a good one, like Sophocles. He facesthe horror; realises it; and tries to surmount it on the sweep of a greatwave of religious emotion. The mother-murder, even if done by a god'scommand, is a sin; a sin to be expiated by unfathomable suffering. Yet, since the god cannot have commanded evil, it is a duty also. It is a sinthat _must_ be committed. Euripides, here as often, represents intellectually the thought ofAeschylus carried a step further. He faced the problem just as Aeschylusdid, and as Sophocles did not. But the solution offered by Aeschylus didnot satisfy him. It cannot, in its actual details, satisfy any one. To himthe mother-murder--like most acts of revenge, but more than most--was asin and a horror. Therefore it should not have been committed; and the godwho enjoined it _did_ command evil, as he had done in a hundred othercases! He is no god of light; he is only a demon of old superstition, acting, among other influences, upon a sore-beset man, and driving himtowards a miscalled duty, the horror of which, when done, will unseat hisreason. But another problem interests Euripides even more than this. What kind ofman was it--above all, what kind of woman can it have been, who would dothis deed of mother-murder, not in sudden fury but deliberately, as an actof "justice, " after many years? A "sympathetic" hero and heroine are outof the question; and Euripides does not deal in stage villains. He seeksreal people. And few attentive readers of this play can doubt that he hasfound them. The son is an exile, bred in the desperate hopes and wild schemes ofexile; he is a prince without a kingdom, always dreaming of his wrongs andhis restoration; and driven by the old savage doctrine, which an oraclehas confirmed, of the duty and manliness of revenge. He is, as was shownby his later history, a man subject to overpowering impulses and to fitsof will-less brooding. Lastly, he is very young, and is swept away by hissister's intenser nature. That sister is the central figure of the tragedy. A woman shattered inchildhood by the shock of an experience too terrible for a girl to bear; apoisoned and a haunted woman, eating her heart in ceaseless broodings ofhate and love, alike unsatisfied--hate against her mother and stepfather, love for her dead father and her brother in exile; a woman who has knownluxury and state, and cares much for them; who is intolerant of poverty, and who feels her youth passing away. And meantime there is her name, onwhich all legend, if I am not mistaken, insists; she is _A-lektra_, "theUnmated. " There is, perhaps, no woman's character in the range of Greek tragedy soprofoundly studied. Not Aeschylus' Clytemnestra, not Phaedra nor Medea. One's thoughts can only wander towards two great heroines of "lost" plays, Althaea in the _Meleager_, and Stheneboea in the _Bellerophon_. G. M. [Footnote 1: Most of this introduction is reprinted, by the kindpermission of the Editors, from an article in the _Independent Review_vol. I. No. 4. ] ELECTRA 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 ofClytemnestra_. 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 producedbetween the years_ 414 _and_ 412 B. C. ELECTRA _The scene represents a hut on a desolate mountain side; the river Inachusis visible in the distance. The time is the dusk of early dawn, beforesunrise. 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 sailThe long ships met, a thousand, near and far, When Agamemnon walked the seas in war;Who smote King Priam in the dust, and burnedThe storied streets of Ilion, and returnedAbove all conquerors, heaping tower and faneOf Argos high with spoils of Eastern slain. So in far lands he prospered; and at homeHis own wife trapped and slew him. 'Twas the doomAegisthus wrought, son of his father's foe. Gone is that King, and the old spear laid lowThat Tantalus wielded when the world was young. Aegisthus hath his queen, and reigns amongHis people. And the children here alone, Orestes and Electra, buds unblownOf man and womanhood, when forth to TroyHe shook his sail and left them--lo, the boyOrestes, ere Aegisthus' hand could fall, Was stolen from Argos--borne by one old thrall, Who served his father's boyhood, over seasFar off, and laid upon King Strophios' kneesIn Phocis, for the old king's sake. But hereThe maid Electra waited, year by year, Alone, till the warm days of womanhoodDrew nigh and suitors came of gentle bloodIn Hellas. Then Aegisthus was in fearLest she be wed in some great house, and bearA son to avenge her father. Close he wroughtHer prison in his house, and gave her notTo any wooer. Then, since even thisWas full of peril, and the secret kissOf some bold prince might find her yet, and rendHer prison walls, Aegisthus at the endWould slay her. Then her mother, she so wildAforetime, pled with him and saved her child. Her heart had still an answer for her lordMurdered, but if the child's blood spoke, what wordCould meet the hate thereof? After that dayAegisthus thus decreed: whoso should slayThe old king's wandering son, should win rich meedOf gold; and for Electra, she must wedWith me, not base of blood--in that I standTrue Mycenaean--but in gold and landMost poor, which maketh highest birth as naught. So from a powerless husband shall be wroughtA powerless peril. Had some man of mightPossessed her, he had called perchance to lightHer father's blood, and unknown vengeancesRisen on Aegisthus yet. Aye, mine she is:But never yet these arms--the Cyprian knowsMy truth!--have clasped her body, and she goesA virgin still. Myself would hold it shameTo 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 nowCome back and see his sister bowed so low? Doth any deem me fool, to hold a fairMaid in my room and seek no joy, but spareHer maidenhood? If any such there be, Let him but look within. The fool is heIn gentle things, weighing the more and lessOf 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 jarHath worn my earth-bowed head, as forth and froFor water to the hillward springs I go?Not for mere stress of need, but purpose set, That never day nor night God may forgetAegisthus' sin: aye, and perchance a cryCast forth to the waste shining of the skyMay find my father's ear. . . . The woman bredOf Tyndareus, my mother--on her headBe 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 fraughtWith toil to lighten my toil? And so softThy 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 fearsAnd many shames, when mortal heart can findSomewhere one healing touch, as my sick mindFinds thee. . . . And should I wait thy word, to endureA little for thine easing, yea, or pourMy 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 springsAre not far off. And I before the mornMust drive my team afield, and sow the cornIn the hollows. --Not a thousand prayers can gainA man's bare bread, save an he work amain. [ELECTRA _and the_ PEASANT _depart on their several ways. After a fewmoments there enter stealthily two armed men, _ ORESTES _and_ PYLADES. ORESTES. Thou art the first that I have known in deedTrue and my friend, and shelterer of my need. Thou only, Pylades, of all that knew, Hast held Orestes of some worth, all throughThese years of helplessness, wherein I lieDowntrodden by the murderer--yea, and byThe murderess, my mother!. . . I am come, Fresh from the cleansing of Apollo, homeTo Argos--and my coming no man yetKnoweth--to pay the bloody twain their debtOf blood. This very night I crept aloneTo my dead father's grave, and poured thereonMy heart's first tears and tresses of my headNew-shorn, and o'er the barrow of the deadSlew a black lamb, unknown of them that reignIn this unhappy land. . . . I am not fainTo pass the city gates, but hold me hereHard on the borders. So my road is clearTo fly if men look close and watch my way;If not, to seek my sister. For men sayShe dwelleth in these hills, no more a maidBut wedded. I must find her house, for aidTo guide our work, and learn what hath betidOf late in Argos. --Ha, the radiant lidOf Dawn's eye lifteth! Come, friend; leave we nowThis trodden path. Some worker of the plough, Or serving damsel at her early taskWill presently come by, whom we may askIf here my sister dwells. But soft! Even nowI see some bondmaid there, her death-shorn browBending beneath its freight of well-water. Lie close until she pass; then question her. A slave might help us well, or speak some signOf import to this work of mine and thine. [_The two men retire into ambush. _ ELECTRA _enters, returning from thewell. _ 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 meClytemnestra, the evil Queen, Helen's sister. And folk, I ween, That pass in the streets call yet my nameElectra. . . . 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 doorThat knows thy footfall, Wandering One?Who left me, left me, when all our painWas 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 foamOf 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 beneathThe floor of the world, to be As a song in she house of Death:From the rising up of the dayThey guide my heart alway, The silent tears unshed, And my body mourns for the dead;My cheeks bleed silently, And these bruised temples keepTheir 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 headDrooped 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, _consistingof women of Argos, young and old, in festal dress_. CHORUS. _Some Women. _ Child of the mighty dead, [_Strophe_. Electra, lo, my wayTo 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 hairAnd 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 bringFair 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 divineShall win thee peace in thy skies, O daughter mine! ELECTRA. No care cometh to God For the voice of the helpless; noneFor 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 cotOn the wrecked hills, changing not, Starve in my soul for food; But our mother lieth wedIn 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 _comesforward_: PYLADES _beckons to two_ ARMED SERVANTS _and stays with them inthe background_. ELECTRA. Woe's me! No more of wailing! Women, flee!Strange armèd men beside the dwelling thereLie ambushed! They are rising from their lair. Back by the road, all you. I will essayThe house; and may our good feet save us! ORESTES (_between_ ELECTRA _and the hut_). Stay, Unhappy woman! Never fear my steel. ELECTRA (_in utter panic_). O bright Apollo! Mercy! See, I kneel;Slay me not. ORESTES. Others I have yet to slayLess dear than thou. ELECTRA. Go from me! Wouldst thou layHand 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 sendMy 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 heHis exile? ORESTES. Not one region nor one lotHis wasted life hath trod. ELECTRA. He lacketh notFor bread? ORESTES. Bread hath he; but a man is weakIn 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 formWasted. . . 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 dearAs thou? ELECTRA. His is a distant love, not nearAt need. ORESTES. But why this dwelling place, this lifeOf loneliness? ELECTRA (_with sudden bitterness_). Stranger, I am a wife. . . . O better dead! ORESTES. That seals thy brother's doom!What Prince of Argos. . . ? ELECTRA. Not the man to whomMy father thought to give me. ORESTES. Speak; that IMay tell thy brother all. ELECTRA. 'Tis there, hard by, His dwelling, where I live, far from men's eyes. ORESTES. Some ditcher's cot, or cowherd's, by its guise! ELECTRA (_struck with shame for her ingratitude_). A poor man; but true-hearted, and to meGod-fearing. ORESTES. How? What fear of God hath he? ELECTRA. He hath never held my body to his own. ORESTES. Hath he some vow to keep? Or is it doneTo scorn thee? ELECTRA. Nay; he only scorns to sinAgainst my father's greatness. ORESTES. But to winA princess! Doth his heart not leap for pride? ELECTRA. He honoureth not the hand that gave the bride. ORESTES. I see. He trembles for Orestes' wrath? ELECTRA. Aye, that would move him. But beside, he hathA gentle heart. ORESTES. Strange! A good man. . . . I swearHe well shall be requited. ELECTRA. Whensoe'erOur wanderer comes again! ORESTES. Thy mother staysUnmoved 'mid all thy wrong? ELECTRA. A lover weighsMore than a child in any woman's heart. ORESTES. But what end seeks Aegisthus, by such artOf shame? ELECTRA. To make mine unborn children lowAnd weak, even as my husband. ORESTES. Lest there growFrom thee the avenger? ELECTRA. Such his purpose is:For which may I requite him! ORESTES. And of thisThy virgin life--Aegisthus knows it? ELECTRA. Nay, We speak it not. It cometh not his way. ORESTES. These women hear us. Are they friends to thee? ELECTRA. Aye, friends and true. They will keep faithfullyAll words of mine and thine. ORESTES (_trying her_). Thou art well stayedWith friends. And could Orestes give thee aidIn aught, if e'er. . . ELECTRA. Shame on thee! Seest thou not?Is it not time? ORESTES (_catching her excitement_). How time? And if he soughtTo slay, how should he come at his desire? ELECTRA. By daring, as they dared who slew his sire! ORESTES. Wouldst thou dare with him, if he came, thou too, To slay her? ELECTRA. Yes; with the same axe that slewMy father! ORESTES. 'Tis thy message? And thy moodUnchanging? ELECTRA. Let me shed my mother's blood, And I die happy. ORESTES. God!. . . I would that nowOrestes heard thee here. ELECTRA. Yet, wottest thou, Though here I saw him, I should know him not. ORESTES. Surely. Ye both were children, when they wroughtYour parting. ELECTRA. One alone in all this landWould know his face. ORESTES. The thrall, methinks, whose handStole him from death--or so the story ran? ELECTRA. He taught my father, too, an old old manOf other days than these. ORESTES. Thy father's grave. . . He had due rites and tendance? ELECTRA. What chance gave, My father had, cast out to rot in the sun. ORESTES. God, 'tis too much!. . . To hear of such things doneEven to a stranger, stings a man. . . . But speak, Tell of thy life, that I may know, and seekThy brother with a tale that must be heardHowe'er it sicken. If mine eyes be blurred, Remember, 'tis the fool that feels not. Aye, Wisdom is full of pity; and therebyMen pay for too much wisdom with much pain. LEADER. My heart is moved as this man's. I would fainLearn all thy tale. Here dwelling on the hillsLittle I know of Argos and its ills. ELECTRA. If I must speak--and at love's call, God knows, I fear not--I will tell thee all; my woes, My father's woes, and--O, since thou hast stirredThis storm of speech, thou bear him this my word--His woes and shame! Tell of this narrow cloakIn the wind; this grime and reek of toil, that chokeMy breathing; this low roof that bows my headAfter a king's. This raiment . . . Thread by thread, 'Tis I must weave it, or go bare--must bring, Myself, each jar of water from the spring. No holy day for me, no festival, No dance upon the green! From all, from allI am cut off. No portion hath my life'Mid wives of Argos, being no true wife. No portion where the maidens throng to praiseCastor--my Castor, whom in ancient days, Ere he passed from us and men worshipped him, They named my bridegroom!-- And she, she!. . . The grimTroy spoils gleam round her throne, and by each handQueens of the East, my father's prisoners, stand, A cloud of Orient webs and tangling gold. And there upon the floor, the blood, the oldBlack blood, yet crawls and cankers, like a rotIn the stone! And on our father's chariotThe murderer's foot stands glorying, and the redFalse hand uplifts that ancient staff, that ledThe armies of the world!. . . Aye, tell him howThe grave of Agamemnon, even now, Lacketh the common honour of the dead;A desert barrow, where no tears are shed, No tresses hung, no gift, no myrtle spray. And when the wine is in him, so men say, Our mother's mighty master leaps thereon, Spurning the slab, or pelteth stone on stone, Flouting the lone dead and the twain that live:"Where is thy son Orestes? Doth he giveThy tomb good tendance? Or is all forgot?"So is he scorned because he cometh not. . . . O Stranger, on my knees, I charge thee, tellThis tale, not mine, but of dumb wrongs that swellCrowding--and I the trumpet of their pain, This tongue, these arms, this bitter burning brain;These dead shorn locks, and he for whom they died!His father slew Troy's thousands in their pride;He hath but one to kill. . . . O God, but one!Is he a man, and Agamemnon's son? LEADER. But hold: is this thy husband from the plain, His labour ended, hasting home again? _Enter the_ PEASANT. PEASANT. Ha, who be these? Strange men in arms beforeMy house! What would they at this lonely door?Seek they for me?--Strange gallants should not stayA woman's goings. ELECTRA. Friend and helper!--Nay, Think not of any evil. These men beFriends of Orestes, charged with words for me!. . . Strangers, forgive his speech. PEASANT. What word have theyOf him? At least he lives and sees the day! ELECTRA. So fares their tale--and sure I doubt it not! PEASANT. And ye two still are living in his thought, Thou and his father? ELECTRA. In his dreams we live. An exile hath small power. PEASANT. And did he giveSome privy message? ELECTRA. None: they come as spiesFor news of me. PEASANT. Thine outward news their eyesCan see; the rest, methinks, thyself will tell. ELECTRA. They have seen all, heard all. I trust them well. PEASANT. Why were our doors not open long ago?--Be welcome, strangers both, and pass belowMy lintel. In return for your glad wordsBe sure all greeting that mine house affordsIs yours. --Ye followers, bear in their gear!--Gainsay me not; for his sake are ye dearThat sent you to our house; and though my partIn life be low, I am no churl at heart. [_The_ PEASANT _goes to the_ ARMED SERVANTS _at the back, to help themwith the baggage. _ ORESTES (_aside to_ ELECTRA). Is this the man that shields thy maidenhoodUnknown, and will not wrong thy father's blood? ELECTRA. He is called my husband. 'Tis for him I toil. ORESTES. How dark lies honour hid! And what turmoilIn all things human: sons of mighty menFallen to naught, and from ill seed againGood fruit: yea, famine in the rich man's scrollWrit deep, and in poor flesh a lordly soul. As, lo, this man, not great in Argos, notWith pride of house uplifted, in a lotOf unmarked life hath shown a prince's grace. [_To the_ PEASANT, _who has returned. _All that is here of Agamemnon's race, And all that lacketh yet, for whom we come, Do thank thee, and the welcome of thy homeAccept with gladness. --Ho, men; hasten yeWithin!--This open-hearted povertyIs blither to my sense than feasts of gold. Lady, thine husband's welcome makes me bold;Yet would thou hadst thy brother, before allConfessed, to greet us in a prince's hall!Which may be, even yet. Apollo spakeThe word; and surely, though small store I makeOf man's divining, God will fail us not. [ORESTES _and_ PYLADES _go in, following the_ SERVANTS. LEADER. O never was the heart of hope so hotWithin me. How? So moveless in time past, Hath Fortune girded up her loins at last? ELECTRA. Now know'st thou not thine own ill furniture, To bid these strangers in, to whom for sureOur best were hardship, men of gentle breed? PEASANT. Nay, if the men be gentle, as indeedI deem them, they will take good cheer or illWith even kindness. ELECTRA. 'Twas ill done; but still--Go, since so poor thou art, to that old friendWho reared my father. At the realm's last endHe dwells, where Tanaos river foams betweenArgos and Sparta. Long time hath he beenAn exile 'mid his flocks. Tell him what thingHath chanced on me, and bid him haste and bringMeat for the strangers' tending. --Glad, I trow, That old man's heart will be, and many a vowWill lift to God, to learn the child he stoleFrom death, yet breathes. --I will not ask a doleFrom home; how should my mother help me? Nay, I pity him that seeks that door, to sayOrestes liveth! PEASANT. Wilt thou have it so?I will take word to the old man. But goQuickly within, and whatso there thou findSet out for them. A woman, if her mindSo turn, can light on many a pleasant thingTo fill her board. And surely plenishingWe have for this one day. --'Tis in such shiftsAs these, I care for riches, to make giftsTo friends, or lead a sick man back to healthWith ease and plenty. Else small aid is wealthFor daily gladness; once a man be doneWith hunger, rich and poor are all as one. [_The_ PEASANT _goes off to the left_; ELECTRA _goes into the house. _ * * * * * CHORUS. O for the ships of Troy, the beat [_Strophe_ 1. Of oars that shimmeredInnumerable, and dancing feet Of Nereids glimmered;And dolphins, drunken with the lyre, Across the dark blue prows, like fire, Did bound and quiver, To cleave the way for Thetis' son, Fleet-in-the-wind Achilles, onTo war, to war, till Troy be won Beside the reedy river. Up from Euboea's caverns came [_Antistrophe_ 1. The Nereids, bearingGold armour from the Lords of Flame, Wrought for his wearing:Long sought those daughters of the deep, Up Pelion's glen, up Ossa's steep Forest enchanted, Where Peleus reared alone, afar, His lost sea-maiden's child, the starOf Hellas, and swift help of war When weary armies panted. There came a man from Troy, and told [_Strophe_ 2. Here in the haven, How, orb on orb, to strike with coldThe Trojan, o'er that targe of gold, Dread shapes were graven. All round the level rim thereofPerseus, on wingèd feet, above The long seas hied him;The Gorgon's wild and bleeding hairHe lifted; and a herald fair, He of the wilds, whom Maia bare, God's Hermes, flew beside him. [_Antistrophe_ 2. But midmost, where the boss rose higher, A sun stood blazing, And wingèd steeds, and stars in choir, Hyad and Pleiad, fire on fire, For Hector's dazing:Across the golden helm, each way, Two taloned Sphinxes held their prey, Song-drawn to slaughter:And round the breastplate ramping cameA mingled breed of lion and flame, Hot-eyed to tear that steed of fame That found Pirênê's water. The red red sword with steeds four-yoked [_Epode_. Black-maned, was graven, That laboured, and the hot dust smoked Cloudwise to heaven. Thou Tyndarid woman! Fair and tallThose warriors were, and o'er them all One king great-hearted, Whom thou and thy false love did slay:Therefore the tribes of Heaven one dayFor these thy dead shall send on theeAn iron death: yea, men shall seeThe white throat drawn, and blood's red spray, And lips in terror parted. [_As they cease, there enters from the left a very old man, bearing alamb, a wineskin, and a wallet_. OLD MAN. Where is my little Princess? Ah, not now;But still my queen, who tended long agoThe lad that was her father. . . . How steep-setThese last steps to her porch! But faint not yet:Onward, ye failing knees and back with painBowed, till we look on that dear face again. [_Enter_ ELECTRA. Ah, daughter, is it thou?--Lo, here I am, With gifts from all my store; this suckling lambFresh from the ewe, green crowns for joyfulness, And creamy things new-curdled from the press. And this long-storèd juice of vintagesForgotten, cased in fragrance: scant it is, But passing sweet to mingle nectar-wiseWith feebler wine. --Go, bear them in; mine eyes. . . Where is my cloak?--They are all blurred with tears. ELECTRA. What ails thine eyes, old friend? After these yearsDoth my low plight still stir thy memories?Or think'st thou of Orestes, where he liesIn exile, and my father? Aye, long loveThou gavest him, and seest the fruit thereofWasted, for thee and all who love thee! OLD MAN. AllWasted! And yet 'tis that lost hope withalI cannot brook. But now I turned asideTo see my master's grave. All, far and wide, Was silence; so I bent these knees of mineAnd wept and poured drink-offerings from the wineI bear the strangers, and about the stoneLaid myrtle sprays. And, child, I saw thereonJust at the censer slain, a fleeced ewe, Deep black, in sacrifice: the blood was newAbout it: and a tress of bright brown hairShorn as in mourning, close. Long stood I thereAnd wondered, of all men what man had goneIn mourning to that grave. --My child, 'tis noneIn Argos. Did there come . . . Nay, mark me now. . . Thy brother in the dark, last night, to bowHis head before that unadorèd tomb? O come, and mark the colour of it. ComeAnd lay thine own hair by that mourner's tress!A hundred little things make likenessesIn brethren born, and show the father's blood. ELECTRA (_trying to mask her excitement and resist the contagion of his_). Old heart, old heart, is this a wise man's mood?. . . O, not in darkness, not in fear of men, Shall Argos find him, when he comes again, Mine own undaunted . . . Nay, and if it were, What likeness could there be? My brother's hairIs as a prince's and a rover's, strongWith sunlight and with strife: not like the longLocks that a woman combs. . . . And many a headHath this same semblance, wing for wing, tho' bredOf blood not ours. . . . 'Tis hopeless. Peace, old man. OLD MAN. The footprints! Set thy foot by his, and scanThe track of frame and muscles, how they fit! ELECTRA. That ground will take no footprint! All of itIs bitter stone. . . . It hath?. . . And who hath saidThere should be likeness in a brother's treadAnd sister's? His is stronger every way. OLD MAN. But hast thou nothing. . . ? If he came this dayAnd sought to show thee, is there no one signWhereby to know him?. . . Stay; the robe was thine, Work of thy loom, wherein I wrapt him o'erThat night and stole him through the murderers' door. ELECTRA. Thou knowest, when Orestes was cast outI was a child. . . . If I did weave some cloutOf raiment, would he keep the vesture nowHe wore in childhood? Should my weaving growAs his limbs grew?. . . 'Tis lost long since. No more!O, either 'twas some stranger passed, and shoreHis locks for very ruth before that tomb:Or, if he found perchance, to seek his home, Some spy. . . OLD MAN. The strangers! Where are they? I fainWould see them, aye, and bid them answer plain. . . ELECTRA. Here at the door! How swift upon the thought! _Enter_ ORESTES _and_ PYLADES. OLD MAN. High-born: albeit for that I trust them not. The highest oft are false. . . . Howe'er it be, [_Approaching them_. I bid the strangers hail! ORESTES. All hail to thee, Greybeard!--Prithee, what man of all the KingTrusted of old, is now this broken thing? ELECTRA. 'Tis he that trained my father's boyhood. ORESTES. How?And stole from death thy brother? Sayest thou? ELECTRA. This man was his deliverer, if it beDeliverance. ORESTES. How his old eye pierceth me, As one that testeth silver and alloy!Sees he some likeness here? ELECTRA. Perchance 'tis joy, To see Orestes' comrade, that he feels. ORESTES. None dearer. --But what ails the man? He reelsDizzily back. ELECTRA. I marvel. I can sayNo more. OLD MAN (_in a broken voice_). Electra, mistress, daughter, pray!Pray unto God! ELECTRA. Of all the things I crave, The thousand things, or all that others have, What should I pray for? OLD MAN. Pray thine arms may holdAt last this treasure-dream of more than goldGod shows us! ELECTRA. God, I pray thee!. . . Wouldst thou more? OLD MAN. Gaze now upon this man, and bow beforeThy dearest upon earth! ELECTRA. I gaze on thee!O, hath time made thee mad? OLD MAN. Mad, that I seeThy brother? ELECTRA. My . . . I know not what thou say'st:I looked not for it. . . OLD MAN. I tell thee, here confessedStandeth Orestes, Agamemnon's son! ELECTRA. A sign before I trust thee! O, but one!How dost thou know. . . ? OLD MAN. There, by his brow, I seeThe scar he made, that day he ran with theeChasing thy fawn, and fell. ELECTRA (_in a dull voice_). A scar? 'Tis so. I see a scar. OLD MAN. And fearest still to throwThine arms round him thou lovest? ELECTRA. O, no more!Thy sign hath conquered me. . . . (_throwing herself into_ ORESTES' _arms_). At last, at last!Thy face like light! And do I hold thee fast, Unhoped for? ORESTES. Yea, at last! And I hold thee. ELECTRA. I never knew. . . ORESTES. I dreamed not. ELECTRA. Is it he, Orestes? ORESTES. Thy defender, yea, aloneTo fight the world! Lo, this day have I thrownA net, which once unbroken from the seaDrawn home, shall . . . O, and it must surely be!Else men shall know there is no God, no lightIn Heaven, if wrong to the end shall conquer right. CHORUS. Comest thou, comest thou now, Chained by the years and slow, O Day long sought? A light on the mountains cold Is lit, yea, a fire burneth, 'Tis the light of one that turneth From roamings manifold, Back out of exile old To the house that knew him not. Some spirit hath turned our way, Victory visible, Walking at thy right hand, Belovèd; O lift this day Thine arms, thy voice, as a spell; And pray for thy brother, pray, Threading the perilous land, That all be well! ORESTES. Enough; this dear delight is mine at lastOf thine embracing; and the hour comes fastWhen we shall stand again as now we stand, And stint not. --Stay, Old Man: thou, being at handAt the edge of time, advise me, by what wayBest to requite my father's murderers. Say, Have I in Argos any still to trust;Or is the love, once borne me, trod in dust, Even as my fortunes are? Whom shall I seek?By day or night? And whither turn, to wreakMy will on them that hate us? Say. OLD MAN. My son, In thine adversity, there is not oneWill call thee friend. Nay, that were treasure-trove, A friend to share, not faltering from love, Fair days and foul the same. Thy name is goneForth to all Argos, as a thing o'erthrownAnd dead. Thou hast not left one spark to glowWith hope in one friend's heart! Hear all, and know:Thou hast God's fortune and thine own right hand, Naught else, to conquer back thy fatherland. ORESTES. The deed, the deed! What must we do? OLD MAN. Strike downAegisthus . . . And thy mother. ORESTES. 'Tis the crownMy race is run for. But how find him? OLD MAN. NotWithin the city walls, however hotThy spirit. ORESTES. Ha! With watchers doth he goBegirt, and mailèd pikemen? OLD MAN. Even so:He lives in fear of thee, and night nor dayHath slumber. ORESTES. That way blocked!--'Tis thine to sayWhat next remains. OLD MAN. I will; and thou give ear. A thought has found me! ORESTES. All good thoughts be near, For thee to speak and me to understand! OLD MAN. But now I saw Aegisthus, close at handAs here I journeyed. ORESTES. That good word shall traceMy path for me! Thou saw'st him? In what place? OLD MAN. Out on the pastures where his horses stray. ORESTES. What did he there so far?--A gleam of dayCrosseth our darkness. OLD MAN. 'Twas a feast, methought, Of worship to the wild-wood nymphs he wrought. ORESTES. The watchers of men's birth? Is there a sonNew born to him, or doth he pray for oneThat cometh? [_Movement of_ ELECTRA. OLD MAN. More I know not; he had thereA wreathed ox, as for some weighty prayer. ORESTES. What force was with him? Not his serfs alone? OLD MAN. No Argive lord was there; none but his ownHousehold. ORESTES. Not any that aught know my face, Or guess? OLD MAN. Thralls, thralls; who ne'er have seen thy face. ORESTES. Once I prevail, the thralls will welcome me! OLD MAN. The slaves' way, that; and no ill thing for thee! ORESTES. How can I once come near him? OLD MAN. Walk thy waysHard by, where he may see thee, ere he slaysHis sacrifice. ORESTES. How? Is the road so nigh? OLD MAN. He cannot choose but see thee, passing by, And bid thee stay to share the beast they kill. ORESTES. A bitter fellow-feaster, if God will! OLD MAN. And then . . . Then swift be heart and brain, to seeGod's chances! ORESTES. Aye. Well hast thou counselled me. But . . . Where is she? OLD MAN. In Argos now, I guess;But goes to join her husband, ere the pressOf the feast. ORESTES. Why goeth not my mother straightForth at her husband's side? OLD MAN. She fain will waitUntil the gathered country-folk be gone. ORESTES. Enough! She knows what eyes are turned uponHer passings in the land! OLD MAN. Aye, all men hateThe unholy woman. ORESTES. How then can I setMy snare for wife and husband in one breath? ELECTRA (_coming forward_). Hold! It is I must work our mother's death. ORESTES. If that be done, I think the other deedFortune will guide. ELECTRA. This man must help our need, One friend alone for both. OLD MAN. He will, he will!Speak on. What cunning hast thou found to fillThy purpose? ELECTRA. Get thee forth, Old Man, and quickTell Clytemnestra . . . Tell her I lie sick, New-mothered of a man-child. OLD MAN. Thou hast borneA son! But when? ELECTRA. Let this be the tenth morn. Till then a mother stays in sanctity, Unseen. OLD MAN. And if I tell her, where shall beThe death in this? ELECTRA. That word let her but hear, Straight she will seek me out! OLD MAN. The queen! What careHath she for thee, or pain of thine? ELECTRA. She will;And weep my babe's low station! OLD MAN. Thou hast skillTo know her, child; say on. ELECTRA. But bring her here, Here to my hand; the rest will come. OLD MAN. I swear, Here at the gate she shall stand palpable! ELECTRA. The gate: the gate that leads to me and Hell. OLD MAN. Let me but see it, and I die content. ELECTRA. First, then, my brother: see his steps be bent. . . OLD MAN. Straight yonder, where Aegisthus makes his prayer! ELECTRA. Then seek my mother's presence, and declareMy news. OLD MAN. Thy very words, child, as tho' spokeFrom thine own lips! ELECTRA. Brother, thine hour is struck. Thou standest in the van of war this day. ORESTES (_rousing himself_). Aye, I am ready. . . . I will go my way, If but some man will guide me. OLD MAN. Here am I, To speed thee to the end, right thankfully. ORESTES (_turning as he goes and raising his hands to heaven_). Zeus of my sires, Zeus of the lost battle, ELECTRA. Have pity; have pity; we have earned it well! OLD MAN. Pity these twain, of thine own body sprung! ELECTRA. O Queen o'er Argive altars, Hera high, ORESTES. Grant us thy strength, if for the right we cry. OLD MAN. Strength to these twain, to right their father's wrong! ELECTRA. O Earth, deep Earth, to whom I yearn in vain, ORESTES. And deeper thou, O father darkly slain, OLD MAN. Thy children call, who love thee: hearken thou! ORESTES. Girt with thine own dead armies, wake, O wake! ELECTRA. With all that died at Ilion for thy sake . . . OLD MAN. And hate earth's dark defilers; help us now! ELECTRA. Dost hear us yet, O thou in deadly wrong, Wronged by my mother? OLD MAN. Child, we stay too long. He hears; be sure he hears! ELECTRA. And while he hears, I speak this word for omen in his ears:"Aegisthus dies, Aegisthus dies. ". . . Ah me, My brother, should it strike not him, but thee, This wrestling with dark death, behold, I tooAm dead that hour. Think of me as one true, Not one that lives. I have a sword made keenFor this, and shall strike deep. I will go inAnd make all ready. If there come from theeGood tidings, all my house for ecstasyShall cry; and if we hear that thou art dead, Then comes the other end!--Lo, I have said. ORESTES. I know all, all. ELECTRA. Then be a man to-day! [ORESTES _and the_ OLD MAN _depart_. O Women, let your voices from this frayFlash me a fiery signal, where I sit, The sword across my knees, expecting it. For never, though they kill me, shall they touchMy living limbs!--I know my way thus much. [_She goes into the house_. * * * * * CHORUS. When white-haired folk are met [_Strophe_. In Argos about the fold, A story lingereth yet, A voice of the mountains old, That tells of the Lamb of Gold: A lamb from a mother mild, But the gold of it curled and beat; And Pan, who holdeth the keys of the wild, Bore it to Atreus' feet: His wild reed pipes he blew, And the reeds were filled with peace, And a joy of singing before him flew, Over the fiery fleece: And up on the basèd rock, As a herald cries, cried he: "Gather ye, gather, O Argive folk, The King's Sign to see, The sign of the blest of God, For he that hath this, hath all!" Therefore the dance of praise they trod In the Atreïd brethren's hall. They opened before men's eyes [_Antistrophe_. That which was hid before, The chambers of sacrifice, The dark of the golden door, And fires on the altar floor. And bright was every street, And the voice of the Muses' tree. The carven lotus, was lifted sweet; When afar and suddenly, Strange songs, and a voice that grew: "Come to your king, ye folk! Mine, mine, is the Golden Ewe!" 'Twas dark Thyestes spoke. For, lo, when the world was still, With his brother's bride he lay, And won her to work his will, And they stole the Lamb away! Then forth to the folk strode he, And called them about his fold, And showed that Sign of the King to be, The fleece and the horns of gold. Then, then, the world was changed; [_Strophe_ 2. And the Father, where they ranged, Shook the golden stars and glowing, And the great Sun stood deranged In the glory of his going. Lo, from that day forth, the East Bears the sunrise on his breast, And the flaming Day in heaven Down the dim ways of the west Driveth, to be lost at even. The wet clouds to Northward beat; And Lord Ammon's desert seat Crieth from the South, unslaken, For the dews that once were sweet, For the rain that God hath taken. 'Tis a children's tale, that old [_Antistrophe_ 2. Shepherds on far hills have told; And we reck not of their telling, Deem not that the Sun of gold Ever turned his fiery dwelling, Or beat backward in the sky, For the wrongs of man, the cry Of his ailing tribes assembled, To do justly, ere they die! Once, men told the tale, and trembled; Fearing God, O Queen: whom thou Hast forgotten, till thy brow With old blood is dark and daunted. And thy brethren, even now, Walk among the stars, enchanted. LEADER. Ha, friends, was that a voice? Or some dream soundOf voices shaketh me, as undergroundGod's thunder shuddering? Hark, again, and clear!It swells upon the wind. --Come forth and hear!Mistress, Electra! ELECTRA, _a bare sword in her hand, comes from the house. _ ELECTRA. Friends! Some news is brought?How hath the battle ended? LEADER. I know naught. There seemed a cry as of men massacred! ELECTRA. I heard it too. Far off, but still I heard. LEADER. A distant floating voice . . . Ah, plainer now! ELECTRA. Of Argive anguish!--Brother, is it thou? LEADER. I know not. Many confused voices cry. . . ELECTRA. Death, then for me! That answer bids me die. LEADER. Nay, wait! We know not yet thy fortune. Wait! ELECTRA. No messenger from him!--Too late, too late! LEADER. The message yet will come. 'Tis not a thingSo light of compass, to strike down a king. _Enter a_ MESSENGER, _running_. MESSENGER. Victory, Maids of Argos, Victory!Orestes . . . All that love him, list to me!. . . Hath conquered! Agamemnon's murderer liesDead! O give thanks to God with happy cries! ELECTRA. Who art thou? I mistrust thee. . . . 'Tis a plot! MESSENGER. Thy brother's man. Look well. Dost know me not? ELECTRA. Friend, friend; my terror made me not to seeThy visage. Now I know and welcome thee. How sayst thou? He is dead, verily dead, My father's murderer. . . ? MESSENGER. Shall it be saidOnce more? I know again and yet againThy heart would hear. Aegisthus lieth slain! ELECTRA. Ye Gods! And thou, O Right, that seest all, Art come at last?. . . But speak; how did he fall?How swooped the wing of death?. . . I crave to hear. MESSENGER. Forth of this hut we set our faces clearTo the world, and struck the open chariot road;Then on toward the pasture lands, where stoodThe great Lord of Mycenae. In a setGarden beside a channelled rivulet, Culling a myrtle garland for his brow, He walked: but hailed us as we passed: "How now, Strangers! Who are ye? Of what city sprung, And whither bound?" "Thessalians, " answered youngOrestes: "to Alpheüs journeying, With gifts to Olympian Zeus. " Whereat the king:"This while, beseech you, tarry, and make fullThe feast upon my hearth. We slay a bullHere to the Nymphs. Set forth at break of dayTo-morrow, and 'twill cost you no delay. But come"--and so he gave his hand, and ledThe two men in--"I must not be gainsaid;Come to the house. Ho, there; set close at handVats of pure water, that the guests may standAt the altar's verge, where falls the holy spray. "Then quickly spake Orestes: "By the wayWe cleansed us in a torrent stream. We needNo purifying here. But if indeedStrangers may share thy worship, here are weReady, O King, and swift to follow thee. " So spoke they in the midst. And every thrallLaid down the spears they served the King withal, And hied him to the work. Some bore amainThe death-vat, some the corbs of hallowed grain;Or kindled fire, and round the fire and inSet cauldrons foaming; and a festal dinFilled all the place. Then took thy mother's lordThe ritual grains, and o'er the altar pouredIts due, and prayed: "O Nymphs of Rock and Mere, With many a sacrifice for many a year, May I and she who waits at home for me, My Tyndarid Queen, adore you. May it bePeace with us always, even as now; and allIll to mine enemies"--meaning withalThee and Orestes. Then my master prayedAgainst that prayer, but silently, and saidNo word, to win once more his fatherland. Then in the corb Aegisthus set his hand, Took the straight blade, cut from the proud bull's headA lock, and laid it where the fire was red;Then, while the young men held the bull on high, Slew it with one clean gash; and suddenlyTurned on thy brother: "Stranger, every trueThessalian, so the story goes, can hewA bull's limbs clean, and tame a mountain steed. Take up the steel, and show us if indeedRumour speak true, " Right swift Orestes tookThe Dorian blade, back from his shoulders shookHis broochèd mantle, called on PyladesTo aid him, and waved back the thralls. With easeHeelwise he held the bull, and with one glideBared the white limb; then stripped the mighty hideFrom off him, swifter than a runner runsHis furlongs, and laid clean the flank. At onceAegisthus stooped, and lifted up with careThe ominous parts, and gazed. No lobe was there;But lo, strange caves of gall, and, darkly raised, The portal vein boded to him that gazedFell visitations. Dark as night his browClouded. Then spake Orestes: "Why art thouCast down so sudden?" "Guest, " he cried, "there beTreasons from whence I know not, seeking me. Of all my foes, 'tis Agamemnon's son;His hate is on my house, like war. " "Have done!"Orestes cried: "thou fear'st an exile's plot, Lord of a city? Make thy cold heart hotWith meat. --Ho, fling me a Thessalian steel!This Dorian is too light. I will unsealThe breast of him. " He took the heavier blade, And clave the bone. And there Aegisthus stayed, The omens in his hand, dividing slowThis sign from that; till, while his head bent low, Up with a leap thy brother flashed the sword, Then down upon his neck, and cleft the cordOf brain and spine. Shuddering the body stoodOne instant in an agony of blood, And gasped and fell. The henchmen saw, and straightFlew to their spears, a host of them to setAgainst those twain. But there the twain did standUnfaltering, each his iron in his hand, Edge fronting edge. Till "Hold, " Orestes calls:"I come not as in wrath against these wallsAnd mine own people. One man righteouslyI have slain, who slew my father. It is I, The wronged Orestes! Hold, and smite me not, Old housefolk of my father!" When they caughtThat name, their lances fell. And one old man, An ancient in the house, drew nigh to scanHis face, and knew him. Then with one accordThey crowned thy brother's temples, and outpouredjoy and loud songs. And hither now he faresTo show the head, no Gorgon, that he bears, But that Aegisthus whom thou hatest! Yea, Blood against blood, his debt is paid this day. [_He goes off to meet the others_--ELECTRA _stands as though stupefied_. CHORUS. Now, now thou shalt dance in our dances, Beloved, as a fawn in the night! The wind is astir for the glances Of thy feet; thou art robed with delight. He hath conquered, he cometh to free us With garlands new-won, More high than the crowns of Alpheüs, Thine own father's son: Cry, cry, for the day that is won! ELECTRA. O Light of the Sun, O chariot wheels of flame, O Earth and Night, dead Night without a nameThat held me! Now mine eyes are raised to see, And all the doorways of my soul flung free. Aegisthus dead! My father's murderer dead! What have I still of wreathing for the headStored in my chambers? Let it come forth nowTo bind my brother's and my conqueror's brow. [_Some garlands are brought out from the house to_ ELECTRA. CHORUS. Go, gather thy garlands, and lay them As a crown on his brow, many-tressed, But our feet shall refrain not nor stay them: 'Tis the joy that the Muses have blest. For our king is returned as from prison, The old king, to be master again, Our belovèd in justice re-risen: With guile he hath slain. . . But cry, cry in joyance again! [_There enter from the left_ ORESTES _and_ PYLADES, _followed by somethralls_. ELECTRA. O conqueror, come! The king that trampled TroyKnoweth his son Orestes. Come in joy, Brother, and take to bind thy rippling hairMy crowns!. . . . O what are crowns, that runners wearFor some vain race? But thou in battle trueHast felled our foe Aegisthus, him that slewBy craft thy sire and mine. [_She crowns_ ORESTES. And thou no less, O friend at need, O reared in righteousness, Take, Pylades, this chaplet from my hand. 'Twas half thy battle. And may ye two standThus alway, victory-crowned, before my face! [_She crowns_ PYLADES. ORESTES. Electra, first as workers of this gracePraise thou the Gods, and after, if thou will, Praise also me, as chosen to fulfilGod's work and Fate's. --Aye, 'tis no more a dream;In very deed I come from slaying him. Thou hast the knowledge clear, but lo, I bringMore also. See himself, dead! [_Attendants bring in the body of_ AEGISTHUS _on a bier_. Wouldst thou flingThis lord on the rotting earth for beasts to tear?Or up, where all the vultures of the airMay glut them, pierce and nail him for a signFar off? Work all thy will. Now he is thine. ELECTRA. It shames me; yet, God knows, I hunger sore-- ORESTES. What wouldst thou? Speak; the old fear nevermoreNeed touch thee. ELECTRA. To let loose upon the deadMy hate! Perchance to rouse on mine own headThe sleeping hate of the world? ORESTES. No man that livesShall scathe thee by one word. ELECTRA. Our city givesQuick blame; and little love have men for me. ORESTES. If aught thou hast unsaid, sister, be freeAnd speak. Between this man and us no barCometh nor stint, but the utter rage of war. [_She goes and stands over the body. A moment's silence_. ELECTRA. Ah me, what have I? What first flood of hateTo loose upon thee? What last curse to sateMy pain, or river of wild words to flowBank-high between?. . . Nothing?. . . And yet I knowThere hath not passed one sun, but through the longCold dawns, over and over, like a song, I have said them--words held back, O, some day yetTo flash into thy face, would but the fretOf ancient fear fall loose and let me free. And free I am, now; and can pay to theeAt last the weary debt. Oh, thou didst killMy soul within. Who wrought thee any ill, That thou shouldst make me fatherless? Aye, meAnd this my brother, loveless, solitary?'Twas thou, didst bend my mother to her shame:Thy weak hand murdered him who led to fameThe hosts of Hellas--thou, that never crossedO'erseas to Troy!. . . God help thee, wast thou lostIn blindness, long ago, dreaming, some-wise, She would be true with thee, whose sin and liesThyself had tasted in my father's place?And then, that thou wert happy, when thy daysWere all one pain? Thou knewest ceaselesslyHer kiss a thing unclean, and she knew theeA lord so little true, so dearly won!So lost ye both, being in falseness one, What fortune else had granted; she thy curse, Who marred thee as she loved thee, and thou hers. . . And on thy ways thou heardst men whispering, "Lo, the Queen's husband yonder"--not "the King. " And then the lie of lies that dimmed thy brow, Vaunting that by thy gold, thy chattels, ThouWert Something; which themselves are nothingness. Shadows, to clasp a moment ere they cease. The thing thou art, and not the things thou hast, Abideth, yea, and bindeth to the lastThy burden on thee: while all else, ill-wonAnd sin-companioned, like a flower o'erblown, Flies on the wind away. Or didst them findIn women . . . Women?. . . Nay, peace, peace! The blindCould read thee. Cruel wast thou in thine hour, Lord of a great king's house, and like a towerFirm in thy beauty. [_Starting back with a look of loathing_. Ah, that girl-like face!God grant, not that, not that, but some plain graceOf manhood to the man who brings me love:A father of straight children, that shall moveSwift on the wings of War. So, get thee gone!Naught knowing how the great years, rolling on, Have laid thee bare, and thy long debt full paid. O vaunt not, if one step be proudly madeIn evil, that all Justice is o'ercast:Vaunt not, ye men of sin, ere at the lastThe thin-drawn marge before you glimmerethClose, and the goal that wheels 'twixt life and death. LEADER. Justice is mighty. Passing dark hath beenHis sin: and dark the payment of his sin. ELECTRA (_with a weary sigh, turning from the body_). Ah me! Go some of you, bear him from sight, That when my mother come, her eyes may lightOn nothing, nothing, till she know the sword. . . . [_The body is borne into the hut_. PYLADES _goes with it_. ORESTES (_looking along the road_). Stay, 'tis a new thing! We have still a wordTo speak. . . ELECTRA. What? Not a rescue from the townThou seëst? ORESTES. 'Tis my mother comes: my ownMother, that bare me. [_He takes off his crown_. ELECTRA (_springing, as it were, to life again, and moving where she cansee the road_). Straight into the snare!Aye, there she cometh, --Welcome in thy rareChariot! All welcome in thy brave array! ORESTES. What would we with our mother? Didst thou sayKill her? ELECTRA (_turning on him_). What? Is it pity? Dost thou fearTo see thy mother's shape? ORESTES. 'Twas she that bareMy body into life. She gave me suck. How can I strike her? ELECTRA. Strike her as she struckOur father! ORESTES (_to himself, brooding_). Phoebus, God, was all thy mindTurned unto darkness? ELECTRA. If thy God be blind, Shalt thou have light? ORESTES (_as before_). Thou, thou, didst bid me killMy mother: which is sin. ELECTRA. How brings it illTo thee, to raise our father from the dust? ORESTES. I was a clean man once. Shall I be thrustFrom men's sight, blotted with her blood? ELECTRA. Thy blotIs black as death if him thou succour not! ORESTES. Who shall do judgment on me, when she dies? ELECTRA. Who shall do judgment, if thy father lies. Forgotten? ORESTES (_turning suddenly to_ ELECTRA). Stay! How if some fiend of Hell, Hid in God's likeness, spake that oracle? ELECTRA. In God's own house? I trow not. ORESTES. And I trowIt was an evil charge! [_He moves away from her. _ ELECTRA (_almost despairing_). To fail me now!To fail me now! A coward!--O brother, no! ORESTES. What shall it be, then? The same stealthy blow . . . ELECTRA. That slew our father! Courage! thou hast slainAegisthus. ORESTES. Aye. So be it. --I have ta'enA path of many terrors: and shall doDeeds horrible. 'Tis God will have it so. . . . Is this the joy of battle, or wild woe? [_He goes into the house. _ LEADER. O Queen o'er Argos thronèd high, O Woman, sister of the twain, God's Horsemen, stars without a stain, Whose home is in the deathless sky, Whose glory in the sea's wild pain, Toiling to succour men that die:Long years above us hast thou been, God-like for gold and marvelled power: Ah, well may mortal eyes this hourObserve thy state: All hail, O Queen! _Enter from the right_ CLYTEMNESTRA _on a chariot, accompanied by richlydressed Handmaidens_. CLYTEMNESTRA. Down from the wain, ye dames of Troy, and holdMine arm as I dismount. . . . [_Answering_ ELECTRA'S _thought_. The spoils and goldOf Ilion I have sent out of my hallTo many shrines. These bondwomen are allI keep in mine own house. . . . Deemst thou the costToo rich to pay me for the child I lost--Fair though they be? ELECTRA. Nay, Mother, here am IBond likewise, yea, and homeless, to hold highThy royal arm! CLYTEMNESTRA. Child, the war slaves are here;Thou needst not toil. ELECTRA. What was it but the spearOf war, drove me forth too? Mine enemiesHave sacked my father's house, and, even as these, Captives and fatherless, made me their prey. CLYTEMNESTRA. It was thy father cast his child away, A child he might have loved!. . . Shall I speak out?(_Controlling herself_) Nay; when a woman once is caught aboutWith evil fame, there riseth in her tongueA bitter spirit--wrong, I know! Yet, wrongOr right, I charge ye look on the deeds done;And if ye needs must hate, when all is known, Hate on! What profits loathing ere ye know? My father gave me to be his. 'Tis so. But was it his to kill me, or to killThe babes I bore? Yet, lo, he tricked my willWith fables of Achilles' love: he boreTo Aulis and the dark ship-clutching shore, He held above the altar-flame, and smote, Cool as one reaping, through the strainèd throat, My white Iphigenia. . . . Had it beenTo save some falling city, leaguered inWith foemen; to prop up our castle towers, And rescue other children that were ours, Giving one life for many, by God's lawsI had forgiven all! Not so. BecauseHelen was wanton, and her master knewNo curb for her: for that, for that, he slewMy daughter!--Even then, with all my wrong, No wild beast yet was in me. Nay, for long, I never would have killed him. But he came, At last, bringing that damsel, with the flameOf God about her, mad and knowing all:And set her in my room; and in one wallWould hold two queens!--O wild are woman's eyesAnd hot her heart. I say not otherwise. But, being thus wild, if then her master strayTo love far off, and cast his own away, Shall not her will break prison too, and wendSomewhere to win some other for a friend?And then on us the world's curse waxes strongIn righteousness! The lords of all the wrongMust hear no curse!--I slew him. I trod thenThe only road: which led me to the menHe hated. Of the friends of Argos whomDurst I have sought, to aid me to the doomI craved?--Speak if thou wouldst, and fear not me, If yet thou deemst him slain unrighteously. LEADER. Thy words be just, yet shame their justice brings;A woman true of heart should bear all thingsFrom him she loves. And she who feels it not, I cannot reason of her, nor speak aught. ELECTRA. Remember, mother, thy last word of grace, Bidding me speak, and fear not, to thy face. CLYTEMNESTRA. So said I truly, child, and so say still. ELECTRA. Wilt softly hear, and after work me ill? CLYTEMNESTRA. Not so, not so. I will but pleasure thee. ELECTRA. I answer then. And, mother, this shall beMy prayer of opening, where hangs the whole:Would God that He had made thee clean of soul!Helen and thou--O, face and form were fair, Meet for men's praise; but sisters twain ye were, Both things of naught, a stain on Castor's star, And Helen slew her honour, borne afarIn wilful ravishment: but thou didst slayThe highest man of the world. And now wilt say'Twas wrought in justice for thy child laid lowAt Aulis?. . . Ah, who knows thee as I know?Thou, thou, who long ere aught of ill was doneThy child, when Agamemnon scarce was gone, Sate at the looking-glass, and tress by tressDidst comb the twined gold in loneliness. When any wife, her lord being far away. Toils to be fair, O blot her out that dayAs false within! What would she with a cheekSo bright in strange men's eyes, unless she seekSome treason? None but I, thy child, could soWatch thee in Hellas: none but I could knowThy face of gladness when our enemiesWere strong, and the swift cloud upon thine eyesIf Troy seemed falling, all thy soul keen-setPraying that he might come no more!. . . And yetIt was so easy to be true. A kingWas thine, not feebler, not in anythingBelow Aegisthus; one whom Hellas choseFor chief beyond all kings. Aye, and God knows, How sweet a name in Greece, after the sinThy sister wrought, lay in thy ways to win. Ill deeds make fair ones shine, and turn theretoMen's eyes. --Enough: but say he wronged thee; slewBy craft thy child:--what wrong had I done, whatThe babe Orestes? Why didst render notBack unto us, the children of the dead, Our father's portion? Must thou heap thy bedWith gold of murdered men, to buy to theeThy strange man's arms? Justice! Why is not heWho cast Orestes out, cast out again?Not slain for me whom doubly he hath slain, In living death, more bitter than of oldMy sister's? Nay, when all the tale is toldOf blood for blood, what murder shall we make, I and Orestes, for our father's sake? CLYTEMNESTRA. Aye, child; I know thy heart, from long ago. Thou hast alway loved him best. 'Tis oft-time so:One is her father's daughter, and one hotTo bear her mother's part. I blame thee not. . . . Yet think not I am happy, child; nor flownWith pride now, in the deeds my hand hath done. . . . [_Seeing_ ELECTRA _unsympathetic, she checks herself_. But thou art all untended, comfortlessOf body and wild of raiment; and thy stressOf travail scarce yet ended!. . . Woe is me!'Tis all as I have willed it. BitterlyI wrought against him, to the last blind deepOf bitterness. . . . Woe's me! ELECTRA. Fair days to weep, When help is not! Or stay: though he lie coldLong since, there lives another of thy foldFar off; there might be pity for thy son? CLYTEMNESTRA. I dare not!. . . Yes, I fear him. 'Tis mine ownLife, and not his, comes first. And rumour saithHis heart yet burneth for his father's death. ELECTRA. Why dost thou keep thine husband ever hotAgainst me? CLYTEMNESTRA. 'Tis his mood. And thou art notSo gentle, child! ELECTRA. My spirit is too sore!Howbeit, from this day I will no moreHate him. CLYTEMNESTRA (_with a flash of hope_). O daughter!--Then, indeed, shall he, I promise, never more be harsh to thee! ELECTRA. He lieth in my house, as 'twere his own. 'Tis that hath made him proud. CLYTEMNESTRA. Nay, art thou flownTo strife again so quick, child? ELECTRA. Well; I sayNo more; long have I feared him, and alwayShall fear him, even as now! CLYTEMNESTRA. Nay, daughter, peace!It bringeth little profit, speech like this. . . Why didst thou call me hither? ELECTRA. It reached thee, My word that a man-child is born to me?Do thou make offering for me--for the riteI know not--as is meet on the tenth night. I cannot; I have borne no child till now. CLYTEMNESTRA. Who tended thee? 'Tis she should make the vow. ELECTRA. None tended me. Alone I bare my child. CLYTEMNESTRA What, is thy cot so friendless? And this wildSo far from aid? ELECTRA. Who seeks for friendship sakeA beggar's house? CLYTEMNESTRA. I will go in, and makeDue worship for thy child, the Peace-bringer. To all thy need I would be minister. Then to my lord, where by the meadow sideHe prays the woodland nymphs. Ye handmaids, guideMy chariot to the stall, and when ye guessThe rite draws near its end, in readinessBe here again. Then to my lord!. . . I oweMy lord this gladness, too. [_The Attendants depart;_ CLYTEMNESTRA, _left alone, proceeds to enter thehouse_. ELECTRA. Welcome belowMy narrow roof! But have a care withal, A grime of smoke lies deep upon the wall. Soil not thy robe!. . . Not far now shall it be, The sacrifice God asks of me and thee. The bread of Death is broken, and the knifeLifted again that drank the Wild Bull's life:And on his breast. . . . Ha, Mother, hast slept wellAforetime? Thou shalt lie with him in Hell. That grace I give to cheer thee on thy road;Give thou to me--peace from my father's blood! [_She follows her mother into the house_. CHORUS. Lo, the returns of wrong. The wind as a changèd thing Whispereth overhead Of one that of old lay dead In the water lapping long: My King, O my King! A cry in the rafters then Rang, and the marble dome: "Mercy of God, not thou, "Woman! To slay me now, "After the harvests ten "Now, at the last, come home!" O Fate shall turn as the tide, Turn, with a doom of tears For the flying heart too fond; A doom for the broken bond. She hailed him there in his pride, Home from the perilous years, In the heart of his wallèd lands, In the Giants' cloud-capt ring; Herself, none other, laid The hone to the axe's blade; She lifted it in her hands, The woman, and slew her king. Woe upon spouse and spouse, Whatso of evil sway Held her in that distress! Even as a lioness Breaketh the woodland boughs Starving, she wrought her way. VOICE OF CLYTEMNESTRA. O Children, Children; in the name of God, Slay not your mother! A WOMAN. Did ye hear a cryUnder the rafters? ANOTHER. I weep too, yea, I;Down on the mother's heart the child hath trod! [_A death-cry from within_. ANOTHER. God bringeth Justice in his own slow tide. Aye, cruel is thy doom; but thy deeds done Evil, thou piteous woman, and on one Whose sleep was by thy side! [_The door bursts open, and_ ORESTES _and_ ELECTRA _come forth indisorder. Attendants bring out the bodies of_ CLYTEMNESTRA _and_AEGISTHUS. LEADER. Lo, yonder, in their mother's new-spilt goreRed-garmented and ghastly, from the doorThey reel. . . . O horrible! Was it agonyLike this, she boded in her last wild cry?There lives no seed of man calamitous, Nor hath lived, like this seed of Tantalus. ORESTES. O Dark of the Earth, O God, Thou to whom all is plain;Look on my sin, my blood, This horror of dead things twain;Gathered as one they lieSlain; and the slayer was I, I, to pay for my pain! ELECTRA. Let tear rain upon tear, Brother: but mine is the blame. A fire stood over her, And out of the fire I came, I, in my misery. . . . And I was the child at her knee. 'Mother' I named her name. CHORUS. Alas for Fate, for the Fate of thee, O Mother, Mother of Misery:And Misery, lo, hath turned again, To slay thee, Misery and more, Even in the fruit thy body bore. Yet hast thou Justice, Justice plain, For a sire's blood spilt of yore! ORESTES. Apollo, alas for the hymn Thou sangest, as hope in mine ear!The Song was of Justice dim, But the Deed is anguish clear;And the Gift, long nights of fear, Of blood and of wandering, Where cometh no Greek thing, Nor sight, nor sound on the air. Yea, and beyond, beyond, Roaming--what rest is there?Who shall break bread with me?Who, that is clean, shall seeAnd hate not the blood-red hand, His mother's murderer? ELECTRA. And I? What clime shall hold My evil, or roof it above?I cried for dancing of old, I cried in my heart for love:What dancing waiteth me now?What love that shall kiss my brow Nor blench at the brand thereof? CHORUS. Back, back, in the wind and rainThy driven spirit wheeleth again. Now is thine heart made clean withinThat was dark of old and murder-fraught. But, lo, thy brother; what hast thou wrought. . . . Yea, though I love thee. . . . What woe, what sin, On him, who willed it not! ORESTES. Saw'st thou her raiment there, Sister, there in the blood? She drew it back as she stood, She opened her bosom bare, She bent her knees to the earth, The knees that bent in my birth. . . . And I . . . Oh, her hair, her hair. . . . [_He breaks into inarticulate weeping_ CHORUS. Oh, thou didst walk in agony, Hearing thy mother's cry, the cryOf wordless wailing, well know I. ELECTRA. She stretched her hand to my cheek, And there brake from her lips a moan; 'Mercy, my child, my own!'Her hand clung to my cheek;Clung, and my arm was weak; And the sword fell and was gone. CHORUS. Unhappy woman, could thine eyeLook on the blood, and see her lie, Thy mother, where she turned to die? ORESTES. I lifted over mine eyes My mantle: blinded I smote, As one smiteth a sacrifice; And the sword found her throat. ELECTRA. I gave thee the sign and the word;I touched with mine hand thy sword. LEADER. Dire is the grief ye have wrought. ORESTES. Sister, touch her again: Oh, veil the body of her; Shed on her raiment fair, And close that death-red stain. --Mother! And didst thou bear, Bear in thy bitter pain, To life, thy murderer? [_The two kneel over the body of_ CLYTEMNESTRA, _and cover her withraiment_. ELECTRA. On her that I loved of yore, Robe upon robe I cast:On her that I hated sore. CHORUS. O House that hath hated sore, Behold thy peace at the last! * * * * * LEADER. Ha, see: above the roof-tree high There shineth . . . Is some spirit there Of earth or heaven? That thin airWas never trod by things that die! What bodes it now that forth they fare, To men revealèd visibly? [_There appears in the air a vision of_ CASTOR _and_ POLYDEUCES. _Themortals kneel or veil their faces. _ CASTOR. Thou Agamemnon's Son, give ear! 'Tis we. Castor and Polydeuces, call to thee, God's Horsemen and thy mother's brethren twain. An Argive ship, spent with the toiling main, We bore but now to peace, and, here withalBeing come, have seen thy mother's bloody fall, Our sister's. Righteous is her doom this day, But not thy deed. And Phoebus, Phoebus . . . Nay;He is my lord; therefore I hold my peace. Yet though in light he dwell, no light was thisHe showed to thee, but darkness! Which do thouEndure, as man must, chafing not. And nowFare forth where Zeus and Fate have laid thy life. The maid Electra thou shalt give for wifeTo Pylades; then turn thy head and fleeFrom Argos' land. 'Tis never more for theeTo tread this earth where thy dead mother lies. And, lo, in the air her Spirits, bloodhound eyes, Most horrible yet Godlike, hard at heelFollowing shall scourge thee as a burning wheel, Speed-maddened. Seek thou straight Athena's land, And round her awful image clasp thine hand, Praying: and she will fence them back, though hotWith flickering serpents, that they touch thee not, Holding above thy brow her gorgon shield. There is a hill in Athens, Ares' field, Where first for that first death by Ares doneOn Halirrhothius, Poseidon's son, Who wronged his daughter, the great Gods of yoreHeld judgment: and true judgments evermoreFlow from that Hill, trusted of man and God. There shalt thou stand arraignèd of this blood;And of those judges half shall lay on theeDeath, and half pardon; so shalt thou go free. For Phoebus in that hour, who bade thee shedThy mother's blood, shall take on his own headThe stain thereof. And ever from that strifeThe law shall hold, that when, for death or lifeOf one pursued, men's voices equal stand, Then Mercy conquereth. --But for thee, the bandOf Spirits dread, down, down, in very wrath, Shall sink beside that Hill, making their pathThrough a dim chasm, the which shall aye be trodBy reverent feet, where men may speak with God. But thou forgotten and far off shalt dwell, By great Alpheüs' waters, in a dellOf Arcady, where that gray Wolf-God's wallStands holy. And thy dwelling men shall callOrestes Town. So much to thee be spoke. But this dead man, Aegisthus, all the folkShall bear to burial in a high green graveOf Argos. For thy mother, she shall haveHer tomb from Menelaus, who hath comeThis day, at last, to Argos, bearing homeHelen. From Egypt comes she, and the hallOf Proteus, and in Troy hath ne'er at allSet foot. 'Twas but a wraith of Helen, sentBy Zeus, to make much wrath and ravishment. So forth for home, bearing the virgin bride, Let Pylades make speed, and lead besideThy once-named brother, and with golden storeStablish his house far off on Phocis' shore. Up, gird thee now to the steep Isthmian way, Seeking Athena's blessèd rock; one day, Thy doom of blood fulfilled and this long stressOf penance past, thou shalt have happiness. LEADER (_looking up_). Is it for us, O Seed of Zeus, To speak and hear your words again!CASTOR. Speak: of this blood ye bear no stain. ELECTRA. I also, sons of Tyndareus, My kinsmen; may my word be said?CASTOR. Speak: on Apollo's head we lay The bloody doings of this day. LEADER. Ye Gods, ye brethren of the dead, Why held ye not the deathly herd Of Kêres back from off this home?CASTOR. There came but that which needs must come By ancient Fate and that dark word That rang from Phoebus in his mood. ELECTRA. And what should Phoebus seek with me, Or all God's oracles that be, That I must bear my mother's blood? CASTOR. Thy hand was as thy brother's hand, Thy doom shall be as his. One stain, From dim forefathers on the twain Lighting, hath sapped your hearts as sand. ORESTES (_who has never raised his head, nor spoken to the Gods_). After so long, sister, to see And hold thee, and then part, then part, By all that chained thee to my heart Forsaken, and forsaking thee! CASTOR. Husband and house are hers. She bears No bitter judgment, save to go Exiled from Argos. ELECTRA. And what woe, What tears are like an exile's tears? ORESTES. Exiled and more am I; impure, A murderer in a stranger's hand:CASTOR. Fear not. There dwells in Pallas' land All holiness. Till then endure! [ORESTES _and_ ELECTRA _embrace_ ORESTES. Aye, closer; clasp my body well, And let thy sorrow loose, and shed, As o'er the grave of one new dead, Dead evermore, thy last farewell! [_A sound of weeping_. CASTOR. Alas, what would ye? For that cry Ourselves and all the sons of heaven Have pity. Yea, our peace is riven By the strange pain of these that die. ORESTES. No more to see thee! ELECTRA. Nor thy breath Be near my face! ORESTES. Ah, so it ends. ELECTRA. Farewell, dear Argos. All ye friends, Farewell! ORESTES. O faithful unto death, Thou goest? ELECTRA. Aye, I pass from you, Soft-eyed at last. ORESTES. Go, Pylades, And God go with you! Wed in peace My tall Electra, and be true. [ELECTRA _and_ PYLADES _depart to the left. _ CASTOR. Their troth shall fill their hearts. --But on: Dread feet are near thee, hounds of prey, Snake-handed, midnight-visaged, yea, And bitter pains their fruit! Begone! [ORESTES _departs to the right_. But hark, the far Sicilian sea Calls, and a noise of men and ships That labour sunken to the lips In bitter billows; forth go we, Through the long leagues of fiery blue, With saving; not to souls unshriven; But whoso in his life hath striven To love things holy and be true, Through toil and storm we guard him; we Save, and he shall not die!--Therefore, O praise the lying man no more, Nor with oath-breakers sail the sea: Farewell, ye walkers on the shore Of death! A God hath counselled ye. [CASTOR _and_ POLYDEUCES _disappear_. CHORUS. Farewell, farewell!--But he who can so fare, And stumbleth not on mischief anywhere, Blessed on earth is he! NOTES TO THE ELECTRA The chief characters in the play belong to one family, as is shown by thetwo genealogies:-- I. TANTALUS | Pelops __________|__________________ | | Atreus Thyestes _________|__________ | | | | Agamemnon Menelaus Aegisthus (=Clytemnestra) (=Helen) (=Clytemnestra) _____|________________________ | | |Iphigenia Electra Orestes (Also, a sister of Agamemnon, name variously given, married Strophios, andwas the mother of Pylades. ) II. Tyndareus = Leda = Zeus ____________________| ____|_________________________ | | | |Clytemnestra Castor Polydeuces Helen P. 1, l. 10, Son of his father's foe. ]--Both foe and brother. Atreus andThyestes became enemies after the theft of the Golden Lamb. See pp. 47 ff. P. 2, l. 34, Must wed with me. ]--In Aeschylus and Sophocles Electra isunmarried. This story of her peasant husband is found only in Euripides, but is not likely to have been wantonly invented by him. It was no doubtan existing legend--an [Greek: ôn logos], to use the phrase attributed toEuripides in the _Frogs_ (l. 1052). He may have chosen to adopt it forseveral reasons. First, to marry Electra to a peasant was a likely stepfor Aegisthus to take, since any child born to her afterwards would bear astigma, calculated to damage him fatally as a pretender to the throne. Again, it seemed to explain the name "A-lektra" (as if from [Greek:lektron] "bed;" cf. Schol. _Orestes_, 71, Soph. _El_. 962, _Ant_. 917)more pointedly than the commoner version. And it helps in the working outof Electra's character (cf. Pp. 17, 22, &c. ). Also it gives an opportunityof introducing the fine character of the peasant. He is an [Greek:Autourgos] literally "self-worker, " a man who works his own land, far fromthe city, neither a slave nor a slave-master; "the men, " as Euripides saysin the _Orestes_ (920), "who alone save a nation. " (Cf, _Bac_. , p. 115foot, and below, p. 26, ll. 367-390. ) As Euripides became more and morealienated from the town democracy he tended, like Tolstoy and others, toidealise the workers of the soil. P. 6, l. 62, Children to our enemy. ]--Cf. 626. Soph. _El_. 589. They donot seem to be in existence at the time of the play. Pp. 5-6. ]--Electra's first two speeches are admirable as expositions ofher character--the morbid nursing of hatred as a duty, the deliberateposing, the impulsiveness, the quick response to kindness. P. 7, l. 82, Pylades. ]--Pylades is a _persona muta_ both here and inSophocles' _Electra_, a fixed traditional figure, possessing no qualitybut devotion to Orestes. In Aeschylus' _Libation-Bearers_ he speaks onlyonce, with tremendous effect, at the crisis of the play, to rebuke Oresteswhen his heart fails him. In the _Iphigenia in Tauris_, however, and stillmore in the _Orestes_, he is a fully studied character. P. 10, l. 151, A swan crying alone. ]--Cf. _Bacchae_, p. 152, "As yearnsthe milk-white swan when old swans die. " P. 11, ll. 169 ff. , The Watcher hath cried this day. ]--Hera was an oldPelasgian goddess, whose worship was kept in part a mystery from theinvading Achaeans or Dorians. There seems to have been a priest born "ofthe ancient folk, " _i. E. _, a Pelasgian or aboriginal Mycenaean, who, bysome secret lore--probably some ancient and superseded method ofcalculating the year--knew when Hera's festival was due, and walked roundthe country three days beforehand to announce it. He drank "the milk ofthe flock" and avoided wine, either from some religious taboo, or becausehe represented the religion of the milk-drinking mountain shepherds. P. 13, ll. 220 ff. ]--Observe Electra's cowardice when surprised; contrasther courage, p. 47, when sending Orestes off, and again her quick drop todespair when the news does not come soon enough. P. 16, ll. 247 ff. , I am a wife. . . . O better dead!]--Rather ungenerous, when compared with her words on p. 6. (Cf. Also her words on pp. 24 and26. ) But she feels this herself, almost immediately. Orestes naturallytakes her to mean that her husband is one of Aegisthus' friends. Thiswould have ruined his plot. (Cf. Above, p. 8, l. 98. ) P. 22, l. 312, Castor. ]--I know no other mention of Electra's betrothal toCastor. He was her kinsman: see below on l. 990. Pp. 22-23, ll. 300-337. ]--In this wonderful outbreak, observe the mixtureof all sorts of personal resentments and jealousies with the devotion ofthe lonely woman to her father and her brother. "So men say, " is aninteresting touch; perhaps conscience tells her midway that she does notquite believe what she is saying. So is the self-conscious recognition ofher "bitter burning brain" that interprets all things in a sort ofdistortion. --Observe, too, how instinctively she turns to the peasant forsympathy in the strain of her emotion. It is his entrance, perhaps, whichprevents Orestes from being swept away and revealing himself. Thepeasant's courage towards two armed men is striking, as well as hiscourtesy and his sanity. He is the one character in the play not somehowtainted with blood-madness. P. 27, ll. 403, 409. ]--Why does Electra send her husband to the Old Man?Not, I think, really for want of the food. It would have been easier toborrow (p. 12, l. 191) from the Chorus; and, besides, what the peasantsays is no doubt true, that, if she liked, she could find "many a pleasantthing" in the house. I think she sends for the Old Man because he is theonly person who would know Orestes (p. 21, l. 285). She is already, likethe Leader (p. 26, l. 401), excited by hopes which she will not confess. This reading makes the next scene clearer also. Pp. 28-30, ll. 432-487, O for the Ships of Troy. ]--The two main Choricsongs of this play are markedly what Aristotle calls [Greek: embolima]"things thrown in. " They have no effect upon the action, and form littlemore than musical "relief. " Not that they are positively irrelevant. Agamemnon is in our minds all through the play, and Agamemnon's glory isof course enhanced by the mention of Troy and the praises of hissubordinate king, Achilles. Thetis, the Nereid, or sea-maiden, was won to wife by Peleus. (He wrestledwith her on the seashore, and never loosed hold, though she turned intodivers strange beings--a lion, and fire, and water, and sea-beasts. ) Shebore him Achilles, and then, unable permanently to live with a mortal, went back beneath the sea. When Achilles was about to sail to Troy, sheand her sister Nereids brought him divine armour, and guided his shipsacross the Aegean. The designs on Achilles' armour, as on Heracles'shield, form a fairly common topic of poetry. The descriptions of the designs are mostly clear. Perseus with theGorgon's head, guided by Hermês; the Sun on a winged chariot, and starsabout him; two Sphinxes, holding as victims the men who had failed toanswer the riddles which they sang; and, on the breastplate, the Chimaeraattacking Bellerophon's winged horse, Pêgasus. The name Pêgasus suggestedto a Greek [Greek: pegê], "fountain;" and the great spring of Pirênê, nearCorinth, was made by Pêgasus stamping on the rock. Pp. 30-47. ]--The Old Man, like other old family servants in Euripides--theextreme case is in the _Ion_--is absolutely and even morbidly devoted tohis masters. Delightful in this first scene, he becomes a little horriblein the next, where they plot the murders; not only ferocious himself, but, what seems worse, inclined to pet and enjoy the bloodthirstiness of his"little mistress. " Pp. 30-33, ll. 510-545. ]--The Signs of Orestes. This scene, I think, hasbeen greatly misunderstood by critics. In Aeschylus' _Libation-Bearers_, which deals with the same subject as the _Electra_, the scene is atAgamemnon's tomb. Orestes lays his tress there in the prologue. Electracomes bringing libations, sees the hair, compares it with her own, findsthat it is similar "wing for wing" ([Greek: homopteros]--the same word ashere), and guesses that it belongs to Orestes. She then measures thefootprints, and finds one that is like her own, one not; evidently Orestesand a fellow-traveller! Orestes enters and announces himself; she refusesto believe, until he shows her a "woven thing, " perhaps the robe which heis wearing, which she recognises as the work of her own hand. The same signs, described in one case by the same peculiar word, occurhere. The Old Man mentions one after the other, and Electra refutes orrejects them. It has been thought therefore that this scene was meant asan attack--a very weak and undignified attack--on Euripides' great master. No parallel for such an artistically ruinous proceeding is quoted from anyGreek tragedy. And, apart from the improbability _a priori_, I do notthink it even possible to read the scene in this sense. To my mind, Electra here rejects the signs not from reason, but from a sort of nervousterror. She dares not believe that Orestes has come; because, if it proveotherwise, the disappointment will be so terrible. As to both signs, thelock of hair and the footprints, her arguments may be good; but observethat she is afraid to make the comparison at all. And as to the footprint, she says there cannot be one, when the Old Man has just seen it! And, anyhow, she will not go to see it! Similarly as to the robe, she does herbest to deny that she ever wove it, though she and the Old Man bothremember it perfectly. She is fighting tremulously, with all her flaggingstrength, against the thing she longs for. The whole point of the scenerequires that one ray of hope after another should be shown to Electra, and that she should passionately, blindly, reject them all. That is whatEuripides wanted the signs for. But why, it may be asked, did he adopt Aeschylus' signs, and even hispeculiar word? Because, whether invented by Aeschylus or not, these signswere a canonical part of the story by the time Euripides wrote. Every onewho knew the story of Orestes' return at all, knew of the hair and thefootprint. Aristophanes in the _Clouds_ (534 ff. ) uses them proverbially, when he speaks of his comedy "recognising its brother's tress. " It wouldhave been frivolous to invent new ones. As a matter of fact, it seemsprobable that the signs are older than Aeschylus; neither they nor theword [Greek: homopteros] particularly suit Aeschylus' purpose. (Cf. Dr. Verrall's introduction to the _Libation-Bearers_. ) They probably come fromthe old lyric poet, Stesichorus. P. 43, l. 652, New-mothered of a Man-Child. ]--Her true Man-Child, theAvenger whom they had sought to rob her of! This pitiless plan wassuggested apparently by the sacrifice to the Nymphs (p. 40). "Weep mybabe's low station" is of course ironical. The babe would set a seal onElectra's degradation to the peasant class, and so end the blood-feud, asfar as she was concerned. Clytemnestra, longing for peace, must rejoice inElectra's degradation. Yet she has motherly feelings too, and in facthardly knows what to think or do till she can consult Aegisthus (p. 71). Electra, it would seem, actually calculates upon these feelings, whiledespising them. P. 45, l. 669, If but some man will guide me. ]--A suggestion of theirresolution or melancholia that beset Orestes afterwards, alternatingwith furious action. (Cf. Aeschylus' _Libation-Bearers_, Euripides'_Andromache_ and _Orestes_. ) P. 45, l. 671, Zeus of my sires, &c]--In this invocation, short andcomparatively unmoving, one can see perhaps an effect of Aeschylus' play. In the _Libation-Bearers_ the invocation of Agamemnon comprises 200 linesof extraordinarily eloquent poetry. P. 47 ff. , ll. 699 ff. ]--The Golden Lamb. The theft of the Golden Lamb istreated as a story of the First Sin, after which all the world was changedand became the poor place that it now is. It was at least the First Sin inthe blood-feud of this drama. The story is not explicitly told. Apparently the magic lamb was brought byPan from the gods, and given to Atreus as a special grace and a sign thathe was the true king. His younger brother, Thyestes, helped by Atreus'wife, stole it and claimed to be king himself. So good was turned intoevil, and love into hatred, and the stars shaken in their courses. [It is rather curious that the Lamb should have such a special effect uponthe heavens and the weather. It is the same in Plato (_Polit. _ 268 ff. ), and more definitely so in the treatise _De Astrologia, _ attributed toLucian, which says that the Golden Lamb is the constellation Aries, "TheRam. " Hugo Winckler (_Weltanschauung des alten Orients_, pp. 30, 31)suggests that the story is a piece of Babylonian astronomy misunderstood. It seems that the vernal equinox, which is now moving from the Ram intothe Fish, was in the ninth and eighth centuries B. C. Moving from the Bullinto the Ram. Now the Bull, Marduk, was the special god of Babylon, andthe time when he yielded his place to the Ram was also, as a matter offact, the time of the decline of Babylon. The gradual advance of the Ramnot only upset the calendar, and made all the seasons wrong; but seemed, since it coincided with the fall of the Great City, to upset the world ingeneral! Of course Euripides would know nothing of this. He was apparentlyattracted to the Golden Lamb merely by the quaint beauty of the story. ] P. 50, l. 746, Thy brethren even now. ]--Castor and Polydeuces, who werereceived into the stars after their death. See below, on l. 990. P. 51, l. 757, That answer bids me die. ]--Why? Because Orestes, if he wonat all, would win by a surprise attack, and would send news instantly. Aprolonged conflict, without a message, would mean that Orestes and Pyladeswere being overpowered. Of course she is wildly impatient. P. 51, l. 765, Who an thou? I mistrust thee. ]--Just as she mistrusted theOld Man's signs. See above, p. 89. P. 52 ff. , ll. 774 ff. ]--Messenger's Speech. This speech, though swiftand vivid, is less moving and also less sympathetic than most of theMessengers' Speeches. Less moving, because the slaying of Aegisthus haslittle moral interest; it is merely a daring and dangerous exploit. Lesssympathetic, because even here, in the first and comparatively blamelessstep of the blood-vengeance, Euripides makes us feel the treacherous sideof it. A [Greek: dolophonia], a "slaying by guile, " even at its best, remains rather an ugly thing. P. 53, l. 793, Then quickly spake Orestes. ]--If Orestes had washed withAegisthus, he would have become his _xenos_, or guest, as much as if hehad eaten his bread and salt. In that case the slaying would have beendefinitely a crime, a dishonourable act. Also, Aegisthus would have hadthe right to ask his name. --The unsuspiciousness of Aegisthus is partlynatural; it was not thus, alone and unarmed, that he expected Orestes tostand before him. Partly it seems like a heaven-sent blindness. Even theomens do not warn him, though no doubt in a moment more they would havedone so. P. 56, l. 878, With guile he hath slain. ]--So the MSS. The Chorus havealready a faint feeling, quickly suppressed, that there may be anotherside to Orestes' action. Most editors alter the text to mean "He hathslain these guileful ones. " P. 58, l. 900, It shames me, yet God knows I hunger sore. ]--To treat thedead with respect was one of the special marks of a Greek as opposed to abarbarian. It is possible that the body of Aegisthus might legitimatelyhave been refused burial, or even nailed on a cross as Orestes in a momentof excitement suggests. But to insult him lying dead would be a shock toall Greek feeling. ("Unholy is the voice of loud thanksgiving overslaughtered men, " _Odyssey_ xxii. 412. ) Any excess of this kind, anyviolence towards the helpless, was apt to rouse "The sleeping wrath of theworld. " There was a Greek proverb, "Even an injured dog has his Erinys"--_i. E. _, his unseen guardian or avenger. It is interesting, though notsurprising, to hear that men had little love for Electra. The wonderfulspeech that follows, though to a conventional Greek perhaps the mostoutrageous thing of which she is guilty, shows best the inherent nobilityof her character before years of misery had "killed her soul within. " P. 59, ll. 928 f. , Being in falseness one, &c]--The Greek here is veryobscure and almost certainly corrupt. P. 61, l. 964, 'Tis my mother comes. ]--The reaction has already begun inOrestes. In the excitement and danger of killing his enemy he has showncoolness and courage, but now a work lies before him vastly more horrible, a little more treacherous, and with no element of daring to redeem it. Electra, on the other hand, has done nothing yet; she has merely tried, not very successfully, to revile the dead body, and her hate isunsatisfied. Besides, one sees all through the play that Aegisthus was akind of odious stranger to her; it was the woman, her mother, who cameclose to her and whom she really hated. P. 63, l. 979, Was it some fiend of Hell?]--The likeness to _Hamlet_ isobvious. ("The spirit that I have seen May be the Devil. " End of Act II. ) P. 63, l. 983, How shall it be then, the same stealthy blow?. . . ]--Hemeans, I think, "the same as that with which I have already murdered anunsuspecting man to-day, " but Electra for her own purposes misinterpretshim. P. 64, l. 990, God's horsemen, stars without a stain. ]--Cf. Above, ll. 312, 746. Castor and Polydeuces were sons of Zeus and Leda, brothers ofHelen, and half-brothers of Clytemnestra, whose father was the mortalTyndareus. They lived as knights without reproach, and afterwards becamestars and demigods. The story is told that originally Castor was mortaland Polydeuces immortal; but when Castor was fatally wounded Polydeucesprayed that he might be allowed to give him half his immortality. Theprayer was granted; and the two live as immortals, yet, in some mysteriousway, knowing the taste of death. Unlike the common sinners and punishersof the rest of the play, these Heroes find their "glory" in saving menfrom peril and suffering, especially at sea, where they appear as theglobes of light, called St. Elmo's fire, upon masts and yards. Pp. 64-71, ll. 998 ff. ]--Clytemnestra. "And what sort of woman is thisdoomed and 'evil' Queen? We know the majestic murderess of Aeschylus, sostrong as to be actually beautiful, so fearless and unrepentant that onealmost feels her to be right. One can imagine also another figure thatwould be theatrically effective--a 'sympathetic' sinner, beautiful andpenitent, eager to redeem her sin by self-sacrifice. But Euripides givesus neither. Perhaps he believed in neither. It is a piteous and most realcharacter that we have here, in this sad middle-aged woman, whose firstwords are an apology; controlling quickly her old fires, anxious to be aslittle hated as possible. She would even atone, one feels, if there wereany safe way of atonement; but the consequences of her old actions areholding her, and she is bound to persist. . . . In her long speech it isscarcely to Electra that she is chiefly speaking; it is to the Chorus, perhaps to her own bondmaids; to any or all of the people whose shrinkingso frets her. " (_Independent Review, l. C. _) P. 65, l. 1011, Cast his child away. ]--The Greek fleet assembled for Troywas held by contrary winds at Aulis, in the Straits of Euboea, and thewhole expedition was in danger of breaking up. The prophets demanded ahuman sacrifice, and Agamemnon gave his own daughter, Iphigenîa. Heinduced Clytemnestra to send her to him, by the pretext that Achilles hadasked for her in marriage. P. 66, l. 1046, Which led me to the men he hated. ]--It made Clytemnestra'scrime worse, that her accomplice was the blood-foe. Pp. 65-68. As elsewhere in Euripides, these two speeches leave the matterundecided. He does not attempt to argue the case out. He gives us a flashof light, as it were, upon Clytemnestra's mind and then upon Electra's. Each believes what she is saying, and neither understands the whole truth. It is clear that Clytemnestra, being left for ten years utterly alone, andhaving perhaps something of Helen's temperament about her, naturally fellin love with the Lord of a neighbouring castle; and having once committedherself, had no way of saving her life except by killing her husband, andafterwards either killing or keeping strict watch upon Orestes andElectra. Aegisthus, of course, was deliberately plotting to carry out hisblood-feud and to win a great kingdom. P. 72, l. 1156, For the flying heart too fond. ]--The text is doubtful, butthis seems to be the literal translation, and the reference toClytemnestra is intelligible enough. P. 73, l. 1157, The giants' cloud-capped ring. ]--The great walls ofMycenae, built by the Cyclôpes; cf. _Trojan Women_, p. 64, "Where thetowers of the giants shine O'er Argos cloudily. " P. 75, l. 1201, Back, back in the wind and rain. ]--The only explicit moraljudgment of the Chorus; cf. Note on l. 878. P. 77, l. 1225, I touched with my hand thy sword. ]--_i. E. _, Electradropped her own sword in horror, then in a revulsion of feeling laid herhand upon Orestes' sword--out of generosity, that he might not bear hisguilt alone. P. 78, l. 1241, An Argive ship. ]--This may have been the ship of Menelaus, which was brought to Argos by Castor and Polydeuces, see l. 1278. _Helena_1663. The ships labouring in the "Sicilian sea" (p. 82, l. 1347) must havesuggested to the audience the ships of the great expedition againstSicily, then drawing near to its destruction. The Athenian fleet wasdestroyed early in September 413 B. C. : this play was probably produced inthe spring of the same year, at which time the last reinforcements werebeing sent out. P. 78, l. 1249. ]--Marriage of Pylades and Electra. A good example of theessentially historic nature of Greek tragedy. No one would have invented amarriage between Electra and Pylades for the purposes of this play. It iseven a little disturbing. But it is here, because it was a fixed fact inthe tradition (cf. _Iphigenia in Tauris_, l. 915 ff. ), and could not beignored. Doubtless these were people living who claimed descent fromPylades and Electra. P. 79, l. 1253, Scourge thee as a burning wheel. ]--At certain feasts a bigwheel soaked in some inflammable resin or tar was set fire to and rolleddown a mountain. P. 79, l. 1258, There is a hill in Athens. ]--The great fame of theAreopagus as a tribunal for man-slaying (see Aeschylus' _Eumenides_)cannot have been due merely to its incorruptibility. Hardly any Atheniantribunal was corruptible. But the Areopagus in very ancient times seems tohave superseded the early systems of "blood-feud" or "blood-debt" by ahumane and rational system of law, taking account of intention, provocation, and the varying degrees of guilt. The Erinyes, being the oldPelasgian avengers of blood, now superseded, have their dwelling in acavern underneath the Areopagus. P. 80, ll. 1276 ff. ]--The graves of Aegisthus and Clytemnestra actuallyexisted in Argos (Paus. Ii. 16, 7). They form, so to speak, the concretematerial fact round which the legend of this play circles (cf. Ridgeway in_Hellenic Journal_, xxiv. P. Xxxix. ). P. 80, l. 1280. ]--Helen. The story here adumbrated is taken fromStesichorus, and forms the plot of Euripides' play _Helena_ (cf. Herodotus, ii. 113 ff. ). P. 80, l, 1295, I also, sons of Tyndareus. ]--Observe that Electra claimsthe gods as cousins (cf. P. 22, l. 313), addressing them by the name oftheir mortal father. The Chorus has called them "sons of Zeus. " In thesame spirit she faces the gods, complains, and even argues, while Orestesnever raises his eyes to them. P. 80, l. 1300. ]--Kêres. The death-spirits that flutter over our heads, asHomer says, "innumerable, whom no man can fly nor hide from. " P. 82, l. 1329, Yea, our peace is riven by the strange pain of these thatdie. ]--Cf. The attitude of Artemis at the end of the _Hippolytus_. Sometimes Euripides introduces gods whose peace is not riven, but thenthey are always hateful. (Cf. Aphrodite in the _Hippolytus_, Dionysus inthe _Bacchae_, Athena in the _Trojan Women_. ) P. 82, l. 1336, O faithful unto death. ]--This is the last word we hear ofElectra, and it is interesting. With all her unlovely qualities it remainstrue that she was faithful--faithful to the dead and the absent, and towhat she looked upon as a fearful duty. * * * * * Additional Note on the presence of the Argive women during the plotagainst the King and Queen. (Cf. Especially p. 19, l. 272, These womenhear us. )--It would seem to us almost mad to speak so freely before thewomen. But one must observe: 1. Stasis, or civil enmity, ran very high inGreece, and these women were of the party that hated Aegisthus. 2. Thereruns all through Euripides a very strong conception of the cohesiveness ofwomen, their secretiveness, and their faithfulness to one another. Medea, Iphigenia, and Creusa, for instance, trust their women friends withsecrets involving life and death, and the secrets are kept. On the otherhand, when a man--Xuthus in the _Ion_--tells the Chorus women a secret, they promptly and with great courage betray him. Aristophanes leaves thesame impression; and so do many incidents in Greek history. Cf. Themurders plotted by the Athenian women (Hdt. V. 87), and both by andagainst the Lemnian women (Hdt. Vi. 138). The subject is a large one, butI would observe: 1. Athenian women were kept as a rule very much together, and apart from men. 2. At the time of the great invasions the women of acommunity must often have been of different race from the men; and thismay have started a tradition of behaviour. 3. Members of a subject (ordisaffected) nation have generally this cohesiveness: in Ireland, Poland, and parts of Turkey the details of a political crime will, it is said, beknown to a whole country side, but not a whisper come to the authorities. Of course the mere mechanical fact that the Chorus had to be present onthe stage counts for something. It saved the dramatist trouble to make hisheroine confide in the Chorus. But I do not think Euripides would haveused this situation so often unless it had seemed to him both true to lifeand dramatically interesting.