Story of Orestes Part 10

CHORAL INTERLUDE I

apostrophises the array of s.h.i.+ps that went to the Trojan war, the great chiefs who commanded, especially Achilles, whose s.h.i.+eld they have seen, with its Gorgons, and Sphinxes, and Hermes in flight, and other wondrous figures--suddenly at the end connects itself with the subject of the play by the thought: it was the Prince who commanded heroes like these that a wicked wife dared to slay! {530}

EPISODE II

_Enter from the fields the Aged Tutor, tottering under the weight of a kid and other viands, clad in rags, and in tears_. _Electra_ wonders why he weeps: to mourn for Agamemnon or Orestes is surely now to mourn in vain.

_Tut._ In vain; but this my soul could not support; {553} For to his tomb as on the way I came, I turned aside, and falling on the ground, Alone and un.o.bserved, indulg'd my tears; Then of the wine, brought for thy stranger guests, Made a libation, and around the tomb Plac'd myrtle branches; on the pyre I saw A sable ewe, yet fresh the victim's blood, And cl.u.s.t'ring auburn locks shorn from some head; I marvell'd, O my child, what man had dar'd Approach the tomb, for this no Argive dares.

Perchance with secret step thy brother came And paid these honors to his father's tomb.

But view these locks, compare them with thine own, Whether like thine their color; nature loves In those who from one father draw their blood In many points a likeness to preserve.

_Elec._ Unworthy of a wise man are thy words, If thou canst think that to Mycenae's realms My brother e'er with secret step will come, Fearing Aegisthus. Then between our locks What can th' agreement be? To manly toils He in the rough Palaestra hath been train'd, Mine by the comb are soften'd; so that hence Nothing may be inferr'd. Besides, old man, Tresses like-color'd often may'st thou find Where not one drop of kindred blood is shar'd.

_Tut._ Trace but his footsteps, mark th' impression, see If of the same dimensions with thy feet.

_Elec._ How can th' impression of his foot be left On hard and rocky ground? But were it so, Brother and sister never can have foot Of like dimensions: larger is the man's.

_Tut._ But hath thy brother, should he come, no vest Which thou wouldst know, the texture of thy hands, In which when s.n.a.t.c.h'd from death he was array'd?

_Elec._ Know'st thou not, when my brother from this land Was saved, I was but young? But were his vests Wrought by my hands, then infant as he was, How could he now in his maturer age Be in the same array'd, unless his vests Grew with his person's growth? No, at the tomb Some stranger, touch'd with pity, sheared his locks, Or native, by the tyrant's spies unmark'd.

_Tut._ Where are these strangers? I would see them: much Touching thy brother wish I to inquire.

_Elec._ See, from the house with hast'ning step they come. {599}

_Re-enter Orestes and Pylades_: Conversation in which the aged Tutor eyes him curiously all over, and declares he is Orestes--general recognition and burst of joy.--Then they turn to vengeance, and in stichomuthic dialogue lay their plans. Aegisthus, the Tutor says, is to come to a neighboring field to celebrate a sacrifice; they lay a plan for Orestes and Pylades to gain admission as travellers and kill him in the moment of sacrifice. As to Clytaemnestra: a report is prevalent in the palace that Electra has given birth to a child; they conspire to give currency to the report and invite Clytaemnestra to perform the ten days' rite: once in the house, Orestes will do the dreadful deed; they tremble at their horrid tasks, but their father must be avenged.--_Exeunt Orestes and, his Attendants to the fields; and Electra to the Cottage_ begging the Chorus, who are privy to all this as confidential friends, to keep watch and summon her if news comes. {763}

CHORAL INTERLUDE II

_Strophe_ 1. The Argive mountains round, 'Mongst tales of ancient days From age to age recorded this remains: Tuned to mellifluous lays, Pan taught his pipe to sound, And as he breath'd the sprightly-swelling strains, The beauteous ram, with fleece of gold, G.o.d of shepherds, on he drove.

The herald from the rock above Proclaims, "Your monarch's wonders to behold, "Wonders to sight, from which no terrors flow, "Go, Mycenaeans, to th' a.s.sembly go."

With reverence they obey the call, And fill th' Atridae's s.p.a.cious hall.

_Antis._ Its gates with gold o'erlaid, Wide oped each Argive shrine, And from the altar hallow'd flames arise; Amidst the rites divine, Joying the Muse to aid, Breath'd the brisk pipe its sweet notes to the skies; Accordant to the tuneful strain Swell'd the loud acclaiming voice, Now with Thyestes to rejoice: He, all on fire the glorious prize to gain, With secret love the wife of Atreus won, And thus the s.h.i.+ning wonder made his own; Then to the a.s.sembly vaunting cried, "Mine is the rich Ram's golden pride."

_Strophe_ 2. Then, oh then, indignant Jove Bade the bright sun backward move, And the golden orb of day, And the morning's orient ray; Glaring o'er the Western sky Hurl'd his ruddy lightnings fly; Clouds, no more to fall in rain, Northward roll their deep'ning train; Libyan Ammon's thirsty seat, Wither'd with the scorching heat, Feels nor show'rs nor heavenly dews Grateful moisture round diffuse.

_Antis._ 2. Fame hath said (but light I hold What the voice of fame hath told) That the sun, retiring far, Backward roll'd his golden car; And his vital heat withdraw, Sick'ning man's bold crimes to view.

Mortals, when such tales they hear, Tremble with an holy fear, And th' offended G.o.ds adore; She, this n.o.ble pair who bore, Dar'd to murder, deed abhorr'd!

This forgot, her royal lord. {815}

EPISODE III

_As the Ode is concluding, shouts are heard from the direction of the field where the sacrifice is: Chorus summon Electra_.

After a brief conversation, a Messenger arrives breathless, and after rapidly giving the news that Aegisthus has fallen, is encouraged to tell the scene at length, which he does in the regular 'Messenger's Speech.'

_Mess._ Departing from this house, the level road {845} We enter'd soon, mark'd by the chariot wheel On either side. Mycenae's n.o.ble king Was there, amidst his gardens with fresh streams Irriguous walking, and the tender boughs Of myrtles, for a wreath to bind his head, He cropt; he saw us, he address'd us thus Aloud: "Hail, strangers; who are ye, and whence Come, from what country?" Then Orestes said, "Thessalians; victims to Olympian Jove We at the stream of Alpheus go to slay."

The King replied, "Be now my guests, and share The feast with me; a bullock to the Nymphs I sacrifice; at morn's first dawn arise, Then shall you go; but enter now my house."

Thus as he spoke, he took us by the hand And led us, nothing loth: beneath his roof Soon as we came, he bade his slaves prepare Baths for the strangers, that, the altars nigh, Beside the l.u.s.tral ewers they might stand.

Orestes then, "With lavers from the pure And living stream we lately have been cleansed: But with thy citizens these rites to share, If strangers are permitted, we, O King, Are ready to thy hospitable feast, Nothing averse." The converse here had end.

Their spears, with which they guard the king, aside Th' attendants laid, and to their office all Applied their hands; some led the victim, some The baskets bore, some rais'd the flames and plac'd The cauldrons on the hearth; the house resounds.

Thy mother's husband on the altars cast The salted cakes, and thus address'd his vows; "Ye Nymphs that haunt the rocks, these hallow'd rites Oft let me pay, and of my royal spouse Now absent, both by fortune blest as now; And let our foes as now, in ruin lie;"

Thee and Orestes naming. But my lord, Far other vows address'd, but gave his words No utt'rance, to regain his father's house.

Aegisthus then the sacrificing sword Took from the basket, from the bullock's front To cut the hair, which on the hallow'd fire With his right hand he threw; and, as his slaves The victim held, beneath its shoulder plung'd The blade; then turning to thy brother spoke: "Among her n.o.ble arts Thessalia boasts To rein the fiery courser, and with skill The victim's limbs to sever; stranger, take The sharp-edg'd steel and show that fame reports Of the Thessalians truth." The Doric blade Of temper'd metal in his hand he grasp'd, And from his shoulders threw his graceful robe; Then to a.s.sist him in the toilsome task Chose Pylades, and bade the slaves retire: The victim's foot he held, and its white flesh, His hand extending, bared, and stript the hide E'er round the course the chariot twice could roll, And laid the entrails open. In his hands The fate-presaging parts Aegisthus took, Inspecting: in the entrails was no lobe; The valves and cells the gall containing show Dreadful events to him, that view'd them, near.

Gloomy his visage darken'd; but my lord Ask'd whence his sadden'd aspect: He replied-- "Stranger, some treachery from abroad I fear; Of mortal men Orestes most I hate, The son of Agamemnon; to my house He is a foe." "Wilt thou," replied my lord, "King of this state, an exile's treachery dread?

But that, these omens leaving, we may feast, Give me a Phthian for this Doric blade, The breast asunder I will cleave." He took The steel and cut. Aegisthus, yet intent, Parted the entrails; and, as low he bow'd His head, thy brother, rising to the stroke, Drove through his back the ponderous axe, and riv'd The spinal joints: his heaving body writh'd And quiver'd, struggling in the pangs of death.

The slaves beheld, and instant s.n.a.t.c.hed their spears, Many 'gainst two contesting; but my lord And Pylades with dauntless courage stood Oppos'd, and shook their spears. Orestes then Thus spoke: "I come not to this state a foe, Nor to my servants; but my father's death I on his murderer have aveng'd; you see Th' unfortunate Orestes: kill me not, My father's old attendants." At these words They all restrain'd their spears, and he was known By one grown h.o.a.ry in the royal house.

Crowns on thy brother's head they instant plac'd With shouts of joy. He comes, and with him brings Proof of his daring, not a Gorgon's head, But whom thou hat'st, Aegisthus: blood for blood, Bitter requital, on the dead has fall'n. {939}

General exultation (_in Lyric measures_) succeeds, which increases as _Orestes_ and _Pylades re-enter bearing the corpse of Aegisthus_.

After brief celebration of the deed the face of the corpse is uncovered, and Electra, gazing at it, gives vent to her scorn and hatred: how he had slain a hero, made her an orphan, lived in shame with her mother, enjoying and trusting in her father's wealth: but

Nature is firm, not riches: she remains For ever, and triumphant lifts her head.

But unjust wealth, which sojourns with the base, Glitters for some short s.p.a.ce, then flies away.

His effeminate manners are more than maiden tongue may speak of; beauty graced his perfect form:

But be not mine a husband, whose fair face In softness with a virgin's vies, but one Of manly manners; for the sons of such By martial toils are trained to glorious deeds; The beauteous only the dance give grace.

Let the wicked in future learn they are not secure till the goal of life is reached. {1092}

Clytaemnestra is then seen approaching: they hurry Orestes in; his heart fails him at the thought of his mother; with difficulty Electra rouses him to his appointed vengeance. [_Exeunt all but Electra into the Cottage. Enter Clytaemnestra in a Chariot and splendid array._]

_The Chorus_ welcome her, and she begs their aid to alight.--_Electra_ thrusts herself forward clad in rags as she is, and begs that she too may a.s.sist.--_Clyt._ feels the impropriety of the scene, and falls into an apologetic tone; it was Electra's father who, by his injustice to Iphigenia, was the real cause of Electra's trouble. This leads to the usual judicial disputation: _Clyt._ pleading that this sacrifice of her daughter was done not for a good cause, but for the wanton Helen; this sacrifice she had avenged, and to avenge it must join an enemy, not a friend, of Agamemnon.--_Electra_, getting permission, replies: Helen was not the only wanton one of her family; if no motive but vengeance, why begin to adorn as soon as Agamemnon was out of the way, why rejoice whenever the Trojans prospered, why go on to persecute Orestes and herself, nay, why not slay Aegisthus for persecuting these her children? The sight of Electra's miserable condition makes even _Clyt._ feel compunction: she has been too harsh, she will be kinder now, and so shall Aegisthus--Electra replying to all that it is too late. At last _Clyt._ prepares to go within the house and perform the rite for Electra; then she will join her husband. _Exeunt Attendants with Chariot, and Electra ushers Clytaemnestra into the Cottage_.

Let my poor house receive thee: but take heed Lest thy rich vests the blackening smoke denies.-- There shalt thou sacrifice, as to the G.o.ds Behoves thee sacrifice: the basket there Is for the rites prepared, and the keen blade Which struck the bull; beside him shalt thou fall By a like blow; in Pluto's courts his bride He shall receive, with whom in heav'n's fair light Thy couch was shared: to thee this grace I give, Thou vengeance for my father shalt give me. {1274}

CHORAL INTERLUDE III

The waves of mischief are flowing back, the gale of Violence is veering: Vengeance for the crime of old standing is come at last.

{1298}

EXODUS, OR FINALE

Cries are heard from within: the Chorus know that the deed is done.

_By the machinery of the roller-stage the interior of the Cottage is displayed, with Orestes and Electra standing over the corpse of Clytaemnestra_.

A revulsion of feeling has come over them; they did the deed in frenzy; now, instead of triumph, they have no thoughts but for the act they have done, and how they will carry a curse with them ever after, and all will shun them. With horror they recall the details of the scene:

_Ores._ Didst thou see her when she drew {1338} Her vests aside, and bared her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and bow'd To earth her body whence I drew my birth, Whilst in her locks my furious hand I wreath'd?

_Elec._ With anguish'd mind, I know, thou didst proceed, When heard thy wailing mother's piteous cries.

_Ores._ These words, whilst with her hands she strok'd my cheeks, Burst forth, "Thy pity I implore, my son;"

Soothing she spoke, as on my cheeks she hung, That bloodless from my hand the sword might fall.

_Chor._ Wretched Electra, how could'st thou sustain A sight like this? How bear thy mother's death, Seeing her thus before thine eyes expire?

_Ores._ Holding my robe before mine eyes, I rais'd The sword and plung'd it in my mother's breast.

_Elec._ I urged thee to it, I too touch'd the sword.

_Chor._ Of deeds most dreadful this which thou hast done.

Cover thy mother's body; in her robes Decent compose her wounded limbs.--Thou gav'st Being to those who were to murder thee.