Electra

By Sophocles.

Translated by Francis Storr.

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Argument

Orestes, admonished by the Delphic oracle to avenge his murdered father, sets forth for Mycenae accompanied by his aged Paedagogus and Pylades. When in sight of the palace they lay their plot. The Paedagogus is to present himself as a Phocian messenger and announce to Clytemnestra that Orestes has been killed in a chariot race at the Pythian games. Meanwhile Orestes and Pylades are to make funeral offerings at the tomb of Agamemnon and then, disguised as Phocians, to carry to the Queen a funeral urn, telling her it holds the ashes of Orestes. Clytemnestra, warned by an evil dream, sends Chrysothemis to pour a libation on the tomb. Electra meets her on the way thither and persuades her to leave these impious offerings and take instead such gifts as the two sisters can make to their father’s ghost. Clytemnestra enters with a handmaid bearing fruits to be laid on the altar of Apollo. She rates Electra for beimg abroad without her leave, and defends her past acts against Electra’s reproaches. The announcement of a messenger ends the altercation, and the Queen hears with feigned sorrow and ill-concealed joy the news of Orestes’ death, and invites the messenger to accompany her to the palace. Chrysothemis returns from the tomb, reporting that someone has been there before her, has wreathed the mound with flowers, and left on the edge a lock of hair. Who can it be but Orestes? Electra disabuses her, repeating the messenger’s sad tale, and entreats her aid in executing the resolve to slay nith her own hands their unnatural mother and her paramour. Orestes joins them with Pylades and attendants bearing the funeral urn. She takes the urn in her hands and makes her moan over her lost brother. As they converse together Orestes by degrees reveals himself and discloses his purpose. With Pylades he enters the palace, and shortly a death-shriek is heard. He comes forth, and in answer to Electra replies that all is well in the house. Aegisthus is seen approaching, exultant at the report he has heard of Orestes’ death. Electra confirms it, and bids him enter the palace and see with his own eyes the corpse. At his bidding the palace doors are thrown open and on a bier is seen a veiled corpse. Aegisthus lifts the face cloth and beholds the corpse of Clytemnestra with Orestes standing hard by. He knows that his fate ts sealed, and is driven at the sword’s point by Orestes to be slain in the hall where Agamemnon was slain. The Chorus of free Mycenean women hail the death of the usurper which ends the curse on the house of Atreus.

Dramatis Personae

Aged servant of Orestes
Orestes, son of Agamemnon, the late king of Argos, and Clytemnestra
Electra and Chrysothemis, daughters of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra
Clytemnestra, Queen of Argos and Mycenae
Aegisthus, cousin of Agamemnon, sometime paramour of Clytemnestra and now prince consort
Chorus or Mycenean women

Scene: At Mycenae before the Palace of Agamemnon.

Electra

	Enter Aged Servant with Orestes and Pylades.
Aged Servant	O Child of Agamemnon, who sometime Was Captain of the host that leaguered Troy, ’Tis thine at last to view before thee spread The scene thy heart was set on. Yonder lies Old Argos thou so long hast yearned to see, Once refuge of the gadfly-driven maid,1 Daughter of Inachus; and, Orestes, here The market-place from the Wolf-slayer2 named; There on our left is Hera’s far-famed shrine; And lo! before us, at our very feet Thou seest Mycenae of the golden hoard, And there the palace grim of Pelops’ line, Deep stained with murder. Thence I bore thee once Snatched from beside thy father’s bleeding corse By kindly hands, thy sister’s; rescued thus I fostered thee till thou hadst reached the age To be the avenger of thy father’s blood. But now, Orestes, and thou, Pylades, Dearest of friends, the hour for you is ripe To take resolve and that right speedily. For lo, already the bright beams of day Waken to melody the pipe of birds, And black night with her glimmering stars has waned. So ere a soul be stirring in the streets Confer together and resolve yourselves. No time for longer pause; now must we act.
Orestes	Dearest of followers, how well thou show’st The constant service of thy loyalty! For as the high-bred steed, though he be old, Pricks up his ears and champs the bit for joy When battle rages, even so dost thou Both urge us on and follow with the first. Therefore I will unfold our plans, and thou Note well my words, and if in aught I seem To miss the mark, admonish and correct. Know then that when I left thee