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Before the royal palace at
Argos
. Orestes lies sleeping on a couch in the background.
71
110
Electra
There is nothing so terrible to describe, or suffering, or heaven-sent affliction, that human nature may not have to bear the burden of it. The blessed Tantalus—and I am not now taunting him with his misfortunes—
1
Tantalus, the reputed son of Zeus, flies in the air, quailing at the rock which looms above his head; paying this penalty, they say, for the shameful weakness he displayed in failing to keep a bridle on his lips, when admitted by gods, though he was a man,
5
to share the honors of their feasts like one of them.
10
He begot Pelops, the father of Atreus, for whom the goddess, when she had carded her wool, spun a web of strife—to make war with his own brother Thyestes. But why need I retrace that hideous tale?
Well, Atreus slew Thyestes’ children and feasted him on them. Atreus, now; I pass over intermediate events; from Atreus and Aerope of
Crete
were born the famous Agamemnon, if he really was famous, and Menelaus. Now Menelaus married Helen,
15
the gods’ abhorrence; while lord Agamemnon married Clytemnestra, notorious in
Hellas
; and we three daughters were born: Chrysothemis, Iphigenia, and myself, Electra; also a son Orestes; all from that one accursed mother,
20
who slew her husband, after snaring him in an inextricable robe. Her reason a maiden’s lips may not declare, and so I leave it unclear for the world to guess at. What need for me to charge Phoebus with wrong-doing? Though he persuaded Orestes
25
to slay his own mother, a deed that few approved. Still it was his obedience to the god that made him kill her; I had a share in the murder, in so far as a woman could,
and Pylades, who helped us to bring it about.
30
34
After this my poor Orestes, wasting away in a cruel disease,
lies fallen on his couch, and it is his mother’s blood that drives him round and round in frenzied fits; I am ashamed to name the goddesses, whose terrors are chasing him—the Eumenides. It is now the sixth day
35
since the body of his murdered mother was committed to the cleansing fire; since then no food has gone down his throat, nor has he washed his skin; but wrapped in his cloak he weeps in his lucid moments, whenever the fever leaves him;
40
at other times he bounds headlong from his couch, as a colt when it is loosed from the yoke. This city of
Argos
has decreed that no man give us shelter in home or hearth, or speak to matricides like us; and this is the fateful day on which the Argives will take a vote,
45
whether we are both to die by stoning.
or to whet the steel and plunge it in our necks. There is, it is true, one hope of escape from death: Menelaus has landed from
Troy
; his fleet now crowds the haven of
Nauplia
where he has come to anchor on the shore, returned at last from
Troy
50
after ceaseless wanderings; but Helen, that so-called lady of sorrows, he has sent on to our palace, waiting for the night, lest any of those parents whose sons died at
Troy
might see her if she went by day, and set to stoning her.
55
Within she sits, weeping for her sister and the calamities of her family, and yet she has still some solace in her woe; for Hermione, the child she left at home when she sailed for
Troy
, the maid whom Menelaus brought from
Sparta
60
and entrusted to my mother’s keeping, is still a cause of joy to her and a reason to forget her sorrows.
65
I am watching each approach, until I see Menelaus arriving; for unless we find some safety from him, we have only a feeble anchor to ride on otherwise.
A helpless thing, an unlucky house!
70
71
There is nothing so terrible to describe, or suffering, or heaven-sent affliction, that human nature may not have to bear the burden of it. The blessed Tantalus—and I am not now taunting him with his misfortunes—
1
Tantalus, the reputed son of Zeus, flies in the air, quailing at the rock which looms above his head; paying this penalty, they say, for the shameful weakness he displayed in failing to keep a bridle on his lips, when admitted by gods, though he was a man,
5
to share the honors of their feasts like one of them.
10
He begot Pelops, the father of Atreus, for whom the goddess, when she had carded her wool, spun a web of strife—to make war with his own brother Thyestes. But why need I retrace that hideous tale?
Well, Atreus slew Thyestes’ children and feasted him on them. Atreus, now; I pass over intermediate events; from Atreus and Aerope of
Crete
were born the famous Agamemnon, if he really was famous, and Menelaus. Now Menelaus married Helen,
15
the gods’ abhorrence; while lord Agamemnon married Clytemnestra, notorious in
Hellas
; and we three daughters were born: Chrysothemis, Iphigenia, and myself, Electra; also a son Orestes; all from that one accursed mother,
20
who slew her husband, after snaring him in an inextricable robe. Her reason a maiden’s lips may not declare, and so I leave it unclear for the world to guess at. What need for me to charge Phoebus with wrong-doing? Though he persuaded Orestes
25
to slay his own mother, a deed that few approved. Still it was his obedience to the god that made him kill her; I had a share in the murder, in so far as a woman could,
and Pylades, who helped us to bring it about.
30
After this my poor Orestes, wasting away in a cruel disease,
lies fallen on his couch, and it is his mother’s blood that drives him round and round in frenzied fits; I am ashamed to name the goddesses, whose terrors are chasing him—the Eumenides. It is now the sixth day
35
since the body of his murdered mother was committed to the cleansing fire; since then no food has gone down his throat, nor has he washed his skin; but wrapped in his cloak he weeps in his lucid moments, whenever the fever leaves him;
40
at other times he bounds headlong from his couch, as a colt when it is loosed from the yoke. This city of
Argos
has decreed that no man give us shelter in home or hearth, or speak to matricides like us; and this is the fateful day on which the Argives will take a vote,
45
whether we are both to die by stoning.
or to whet the steel and plunge it in our necks. There is, it is true, one hope of escape from death: Menelaus has landed from
Troy
; his fleet now crowds the haven of
Nauplia
where he has come to anchor on the shore, returned at last from
Troy
50
after ceaseless wanderings; but Helen, that so-called lady of sorrows, he has sent on to our palace, waiting for the night, lest any of those parents whose sons died at
Troy
might see her if she went by day, and set to stoning her.
55
Within she sits, weeping for her sister and the calamities of her family, and yet she has still some solace in her woe; for Hermione, the child she left at home when she sailed for
Troy
, the maid whom Menelaus brought from
Sparta
60
and entrusted to my mother’s keeping, is still a cause of joy to her and a reason to forget her sorrows.
65
I am watching each approach, until I see Menelaus arriving; for unless we find some safety from him, we have only a feeble anchor to ride on otherwise.
A helpless thing, an unlucky house!
70
Helen
Daughter of Clytemnestra and Agamemnon, unhappy Electra, a maiden for so long, how is it with you and your brother, this ill-starred Orestes who slew his mother?
For referring the sin as I do to Phoebus, I incur no pollution by addressing you; and yet I am truly sorry for the death of my sister Clytemnestra, whom I never saw after I was driven by heaven-sent frenzy to sail as I did to
Ilium
;
75
but now that I am parted from her, I bewail our misfortunes.
80
Daughter of Clytemnestra and Agamemnon, unhappy Electra, a maiden for so long, how is it with you and your brother, this ill-starred Orestes who slew his mother?
For referring the sin as I do to Phoebus, I incur no pollution by addressing you; and yet I am truly sorry for the death of my sister Clytemnestra, whom I never saw after I was driven by heaven-sent frenzy to sail as I did to
Ilium
;
75
but now that I am parted from her, I bewail our misfortunes.
80
Electra
Helen, why should I speak of that which your own eyes can see?
Agamemnon’s house in misfortune?
Beside his wretched corpse I sit, sleepless—for corpse he is, so faint his breath—
not that I reproach him with his sufferings; but you are highly blessed and your husband too.
you have come upon us in the hour of adversity
85
Helen, why should I speak of that which your own eyes can see?
Agamemnon’s house in misfortune?
Beside his wretched corpse I sit, sleepless—for corpse he is, so faint his breath—
not that I reproach him with his sufferings; but you are highly blessed and your husband too.
you have come upon us in the hour of adversity
85
Helen
How long has he lain in this way on the couch?
How long has he lain in this way on the couch?
Electra
Ever since he spilt his mother’s blood.
Ever since he spilt his mother’s blood.
Helen
Unhappy wretch! unhappy mother! what a death she died.
90
Unhappy wretch! unhappy mother! what a death she died.
90
Electra
Unhappy enough to succumb to his misery.
Unhappy enough to succumb to his misery.
Helen
By the gods, would you hear me a moment, maiden?
By the gods, would you hear me a moment, maiden?
Electra
Yes, with such leisure as this watching over a brother leaves.
Yes, with such leisure as this watching over a brother leaves.
Helen
Will you go for me to my sister’s tomb?
Will you go for me to my sister’s tomb?
Electra
Would you have me seek my mother’s tomb? Why?
95
Would you have me seek my mother’s tomb? Why?
95
Helen
To carry an offering of hair and a libation from me.
To carry an offering of hair and a libation from me.
Electra
Isn’t it right for you to go to the tomb of one you love?
Isn’t it right for you to go to the tomb of one you love?
Helen
No, for I am ashamed to show myself in
Argos
.
No, for I am ashamed to show myself in
Argos
.
Electra
A late repentance surely for one who left her home so shamefully then.
A late repentance surely for one who left her home so shamefully then.
Helen
You have told the truth, but your telling is not kind to me.
100
You have told the truth, but your telling is not kind to me.
100
Electra
What is this supposed shame before the eyes of
Mycenae
that possesses you?
What is this supposed shame before the eyes of
Mycenae
that possesses you?
Helen
I am afraid of the fathers of those who lie dead at
Ilium
.
I am afraid of the fathers of those who lie dead at
Ilium
.
Electra
Good cause for fear; your name is on every tongue in
Argos
.
Good cause for fear; your name is on every tongue in
Argos
.
Helen
Then free me of my fear and grant me this favor.
Then free me of my fear and grant me this favor.
Electra
I could not bear to look upon my mother’s grave.
105
I could not bear to look upon my mother’s grave.
105
Helen
And yet it would be shame indeed for servants to bear these offerings.
And yet it would be shame indeed for servants to bear these offerings.
Electra
Then why not send your daughter Hermione?
Then why not send your daughter Hermione?
Helen
It is not good for maidens to go into a crowd.
It is not good for maidens to go into a crowd.
Electra
And yet she would be repaying her dead foster-mother’s care.
110
And yet she would be repaying her dead foster-mother’s care.
Helen
You have told the truth and have convinced me, maiden.
Yes, I will send my daughter for you are right.
Calling. Hermione, my child, come out, before the palace. Take these libations and these tresses of mine in your hands, and go pour round Clytemnestra’s tomb
110
a mingled cup of honey, milk, and frothing wine; then stand upon the heaped-up grave, and say this:
Helen, your sister, sends you these libations as her gift, fearing herself to approach your tomb from terror of the
Argive
mob and bid her harbor kindly thoughts
115
towards me and you and my husband; towards these two wretched sufferers, too, whom the gods have destroyed. And promise that I will pay in full whatever funeral gifts are due from me to a sister. Now go, my child, and hurry;
120
and soon as you have made the libations at the tomb, think of your return.
Exit Helen.
125
You have told the truth and have convinced me, maiden.
Yes, I will send my daughter for you are right.
Calling. Hermione, my child, come out, before the palace. Take these libations and these tresses of mine in your hands, and go pour round Clytemnestra’s tomb
110
a mingled cup of honey, milk, and frothing wine; then stand upon the heaped-up grave, and say this:
Helen, your sister, sends you these libations as her gift, fearing herself to approach your tomb from terror of the
Argive
mob and bid her harbor kindly thoughts
115
towards me and you and my husband; towards these two wretched sufferers, too, whom the gods have destroyed. And promise that I will pay in full whatever funeral gifts are due from me to a sister. Now go, my child, and hurry;
120
and soon as you have made the libations at the tomb, think of your return.
Exit Helen.
125
Electra
O human nature, how great an evil you are in men! and what salvation, too, to those who have a goodly heritage there.
Did you see how she cut off her hair only at the ends, to preserve its beauty? She is the same woman as of old.
May the gods hate you! for you have proved the ruin of me and my brother and all
Hellas
.
130
Alas! here are my friends once more, coming to unite their plaintive dirge with mine; they will soon put an end to my brother’s peaceful sleep, and cause my tears to flow
when I see him in frenzy.
135
Dearest friends, step softly; not a sound; not a whisper! For though this kindness of yours is well-meant, rouse him and I shall rue it.
O human nature, how great an evil you are in men! and what salvation, too, to those who have a goodly heritage there.
Did you see how she cut off her hair only at the ends, to preserve its beauty? She is the same woman as of old.
May the gods hate you! for you have proved the ruin of me and my brother and all
Hellas
.
130
Alas! here are my friends once more, coming to unite their plaintive dirge with mine; they will soon put an end to my brother’s peaceful sleep, and cause my tears to flow
when I see him in frenzy.
135
Dearest friends, step softly; not a sound; not a whisper! For though this kindness of yours is well-meant, rouse him and I shall rue it.
Orestes. Euripides. Edward P. Coleridge (Translator). London. 1891.
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