Electra

Perseus Greek · Perseus Greek · 471 sections

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Women love their husbands, stranger, not their children.
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Why did Aegisthus insult you in this way?
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He planned for me to bear powerless children, when he gave me to such a man.
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So that you might not bear sons to punish him, of course?
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That was his plan; may he make amends to me for it!
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Does your mother’s husband know that you are a virgin?
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He does not know; we steal that from him by our silence.
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Are these women who hear our talk friends of yours ?
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They will keep both your words and mine well hidden.
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What then could Orestes do in this matter if he comes to Argos?
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Do you ask this? You have said a shameful word; isn’t it the critical time now?
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But if he does come, how might he kill his father’s murderers?
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By daring such things as his enemies dared against my father.
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And would you dare, with him, to kill your mother?
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Yes, with that same axe by which my father died.
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Am I to tell him this, and that your purpose is steadfast?
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Once I had shed my mother’s blood, I might die!
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Ah! Would that Orestes were near by, to hear that!
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But, stranger, I would not know him if I saw him.
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No wonder, for you were both young when you were parted.
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There is only one of my friends who would recognize him.
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The man who is said to have stolen him away from murder?
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Yes, the old man, my father’s old servant.
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Did the dead man, your father, find burial?
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He found what he could, cast out of the house.
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Alas, the things you have said! For perception of suffering, even another’s, gnaws at mortals. Speak, so that when I know, I may tell your brother the story, unpleasant, but necessary to hear. Pity is not present at all in clownishness,
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but in wise men. And indeed it is not without mischief for the wise to have overly profound thoughts.
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And I have the same desire in my heart as this man. Being far from the town, I do not know the city’s scandals, and now I want to learn them.
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I will speak, if I must—and one must speak to a friend—about my own and my father’s heavy misfortunes. Since you are setting the tale in motion, I entreat you, stranger, tell Orestes of our sorrows, mine and his. First of all, in what clothes I live like a beast in a stall,
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with what filth I am weighted down, under what roof I dwell, having lived in a royal home; I myself working hard on my clothes at the loom, or else I shall go barely clad and do without; always carrying water from the springs myself,
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with no share in the festival rites, no part in the dance. I turn away from married women, as a virgin; and I turn away from Castor, who sought me in marriage before he joined the gods, for I was his relative. But my mother, in the spoils of Troy,
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is seated on her throne, and at her chair stand slaves from Asia, my father’s plunder, fastening their Trojan robes with golden brooches. And still my father’s blood has rotted black on the wall, while the one who killed him
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mounts the same chariot and goes forth; and is proud to hold in his blood-stained hands the scepter with which my father used to command the Hellenes. Agamemnon’s grave, dishonoured, has not yet ever received any libations, or branch of myrtle,
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but his altar is barren of ornament. That famous one, my mother’s husband, leaps on the grave, they say, when soaked in drink, and pelts my father’s marble monument with stones, and dares to say this to us:
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Where is your son Orestes? Is he here to defend the tomb for you nobly? Orestes is insulted in this way while absent. But, stranger, I beg you, report these things. There are many calling him to come—I am their interpreter—these hands, this tongue, my broken heart,
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my shorn head, and his own father. For it is shameful, if his father exterminated the Trojans but Orestes is unable to kill a man, one against one, being young and born from a more noble father.
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And look, I see him, I mean your husband,
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on his way home, his day’s work done.
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Oh! who are these strangers I see at my door? Why have they come here to my rustic gate? Do they want something from me? For it is shameful for a woman to be standing with young men.
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Dearest, do not be suspicious of me; you shall hear the truth; for these strangers have come to me as messengers of news from Orestes. But, strangers, pardon him for what he said.
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What do they say? The man is alive and sees the light of day?
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He is, at least in their report, and I believe them.
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Surely then he remembers something of your father’s wrongs and your own?
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These are things to hope for; a man in exile is powerless.
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What message from Orestes have they come to declare?
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He sent them as spies of my wrongs.
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Then they see a part of it, and perhaps you are telling them the rest.
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They know; they have all these things in abundance.
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Then shouldn’t you have opened the doors to them long before? Go into the house; for in return for your good tidings, you shall find as much hospitality as my house holds in store.
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Servants, take their baggage within the house. Do not contradict me, since you are friends coming from a friend; for, even if I am poor, I will not display manners that are ill-bred.
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By the gods! Is this the man who makes a fraud of your marriage,
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because he does not want to shame Orestes?
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This is the one who is called my husband, unhappy as I am.
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Ah! There is no exact way to test a man’s worth; for human nature has confusion in it. For instance, I have seen before now the son of a noble father
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worth nothing, and good children from evil parents; famine in a rich man’s spirit, and a mighty soul in a poor man’s body. How then does one rightly distinguish and judge these things? By wealth? A sorry test to use.
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Or by those who have nothing? But poverty has a disease, it teaches a man to be wicked in his need. But shall I turn to warfare? Who, facing the enemy’s spear, could be a witness as to who is brave? It is best to leave these matters alone, at random.
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For this man, neither important in Argos, nor puffed up by the good reputation of his family, but one of the many, has been found to be the best. Do not be foolish, you who wander about full of empty notions, but judge those noble among men by their company
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and by their habits. For such men rule well both states and homes; while those bodies that are empty of mind are only ornaments in the market-place. For the strong arm does not await the battle any better than the weak;
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this depends on natural courage. But, since Agamemnon’s son, both present and not present, for whose sake we have come, is worthy of it, let us accept a lodging in this house. Calling to his servants. We must go within this house, slaves. May a man poor
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but eager be a better host for me than a rich man! And so I am content with the reception into this man’s house, though I would have wanted your brother, in good fortune, to lead me to his fortunate home. Perhaps he may come; the oracles of Loxias are
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sure, but human prophecy I dismiss. Exeunt Orestes and Pylades.
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Now more than before, Electra, I feel the warmth of joy at my heart; for perhaps good fortune, advancing with difficulty, might come to a good resting-place.
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O reckless man, why, knowing the poverty of your house,
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did you welcome these strangers, greater than you?
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What? If they are really as noble as they seem, won’t they be equally content among great and small?
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Since you, one of the small, have now made this error, go to my father’s dear old servant,
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who tends his flocks, an outcast from the city, by the river Tanaus which cuts a boundary between Argive land and the land of Sparta; bid him come, since these men have arrived at my house, and provide something for the guests’ meal.
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He will be glad, and will offer prayers to the gods, when he hears that the child, whom he once saved, is alive. I cannot get anything from my mother or from my father’s house; for we would bring bitter news, if she, the hard-hearted, were to learn that Orestes is still alive.
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I will take this message to the old man, if you wish; but go inside the house at once and make things ready there. Surely a woman, if she wants to, can find many additions to a meal. Really there is still enough in the house
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to cram them with food for one day at least. It is in such cases, whenever I fail in my intentions, that I see how wealth has great power, to give to strangers, and to expend in curing the body when it falls sick; but money for our daily food
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comes to little; for every man when full, rich or poor, gets an equal amount. Exeunt Electra and Peasant.
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O famous ships, you that once with countless oars went to Troy, conducting dances with the Nereids,
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where the music-loving dolphin leapt and rolled at your dark-blue prows, bringing Achilles, the son of Thetis, light in the leap of his foot,
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with Agamemnon to the banks of Trojan Simois.
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The Nereids, leaving Euboea’s headlands, brought from Hephaestus’ anvil his shield-work of golden armor,
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up to Pelion and the glens at the foot of holy Ossa, the Nymphs’ watch-tower . . . where his father, the horseman, was training the son of Thetis as a light for Hellas,
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sea-born, swift-footed for the sons of Atreus.
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I heard, from someone who had arrived at the harbor of Nauplia from Ilium, that
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on the circle of your famous shield, O son of Thetis, were wrought these signs, a terror to the Phrygians: on the surrounding base of the shield’s rim, Perseus the throat-cutter, over
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the sea with winged sandals, was holding the Gorgon’s body, with Hermes, Zeus’ messenger, the rustic son of Maia.
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In the center of the shield the sun’s bright circle
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was shining on winged horses, and the heavenly chorus of stars, Pleiades, Hyades, bringing defeat to the eyes of Hector;
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and upon his gold-forged helmet were sphinxes, bearing in their talons prey from singing. On his breast-plate a lioness, breathing flame, was eager in flight, with her claws,
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seeing the colt of Pirene.
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On the bloody hilt four-footed horses were prancing, while over their backs black dust rose up. But your adultery killed the lord of such mighty warriors,
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evil-minded daughter of Tyndareus! For this the gods of heaven will one day send you to death;
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truly the day will come when I shall see, under your red throat, blood gushing forth at the sword.
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You have come, you have come, oh, long-delayed day, you have lighted up, you have made visible a beacon to the city, who in long ago exile went forth from his father’s house, unhappily wandering.
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A god, now, a god brings our victory, my dear. Lift up your hands, lift up your words, send prayers to the gods for your brother with fortune, with fortune,
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to enter the city.
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Well; I have the loving pleasures of your greeting and later I will give them back in turn. You, old man, for you have come at the right time, tell me, what should I do to avenge myself on my father’s murderer
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and on my mother,the partner in his unholy marriage? Do I still have any well-disposed friends in Argos? Or am I wholly bankrupt, just as my fortunes are? With whom shall I ally myself? By night or day? What course shall I take against my enemies?
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Child, you have no friend in your misfortune. For this thing is a godsend indeed, to share in common, both good and bad. But you—for you have been destroyed from the foundations, in the eyes of your friends, and you have left them no hope—hear it from me and know:
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all that you have is in your own arm and fortune, to win your father’s home and your city.
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What must I do then to accomplish this?
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Kill Thyestes’ son and your mother.
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I have come for that victor’s crown; but how shall I grasp it?
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Not by going within the walls, even if you wanted to.
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Is he well furnished with garrisons and body-guards?
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You have understood; for, clearly, he is afraid of you, and does not sleep.

Perseus Greek. CTS URN tlg0006.tlg012.perseus-eng2. Via the Perseus Digital Library / Open Greek and Latin TEI corpora. Licence: Available under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. Source.