Antigone / Oedipus the King / Electra by Sophocles
She holds high festival and sacrifices
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Sheep to the Gods her Saviours.* I look on
In misery, and weep with breaking heart.
This cruel mockery, her Festival
Of Agamemnon, is to me a day
Of bitter grief—and I must grieve alone.
And then, I cannot even weep in peace:
This noble lady bids me stop, reviles
Me bitterly: ‘You god-forsaken creature!
You hateful thing! Are you the only one
Who ever lost a father? Has none but you
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Ever worn black? A curse upon you! May
The gods of Hades give you ample cause
To weep for evermore!’—So she reviles me.
But when she hears from someone that Orestes
May come, she flies into a frenzied rage,
Stands over me and screams: ‘It’s you I have
To thank for this, my girl! This is your work!
You stole Orestes from my hands, and sent
Him secretly away. But let me tell you,
I’ll make you pay for this as you deserve.’
So, like a dog, she yelps, encouraged by
That glorious bridegroom who stands at her side,
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That milksop coward, that abomination,
That warrior who shelters behind women.
My cry is for Orestes and his coming
To put an end to this. O, I am sick
At heart from waiting; he is holding back,
And his delay has broken all my hopes.
Enduring this, my friends, how can I follow
Wisdom and piety? Among such evils
How can my conduct not be evil too?
CHORUS. Come, tell me: is Aegisthus here, that you
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Say this to us, or is he gone from home?
ELECTRA. If he were here, I’d not have dared to come
Outside the palace. No, he’s in the country.
CHORUS. If that is so, why then, I might perhaps
Myself be bold, and speak with you more freely.
ELECTRA. Say what you will; Aegisthus is not here.
CHORUS. Then tell me of your brother: is there news
That he is coming, or is he still waiting?
ELECTRA. He promises—and that is all he does.
CHORUS. So great an enterprise is not done quickly.
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ELECTRA. Yet I was quick enough when I saved him!
CHORUS. He’ll not desert his friends. Have confidence.
ELECTRA. I have. If I had not I should have died.
CHORUS. Hush, say no more! Chrysothemis is coming,
Your sister,* from the palace, carrying
Grave-offerings, that are given to the dead.
Enter CHRYSOTHEMIS
CHRYSOTHEMIS. Why have you come again outside the gate,
Spreading your talk? O, will you never learn?
Will nothing teach you? Why do you indulge
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This vain resentment? I am sure of this:
Mine is as great as yours. If I could find
The power, they soon would learn how much I hate them.
But we are helpless; we should ride the storm
With shortened sail, not show our enmity
When we are impotent to do them harm.
Will you not do the same? The right may lie
On your side, not on mine, but since they rule,
I must submit, or lose all liberty.
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ELECTRA. Shameful! that you, the child of such a father
Should have no thought for him, but only for
Your mother! All the wise advice you give me
You learn of her; none of it is your own.
But you must make your choice: to be a fool,
Like me, or to be prudent, and abandon
Those dearest to you. If you had the power,
You say, you’d show them how you hate them both—
And yet when I do all I can to avenge
Our father, do you help me? No; you try
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To thwart me, adding cowardice on top
Of misery. Come, tell me—or let me
Tell you: if I give up my grief, what should
I gain? Do I not live? Barely, I know,
But well enough for me; and I give them
Continual vexation, and thereby
Honour the dead, if there is any feeling
Beyond the grave. You hate them, so you tell me:
Your tongue may hate them; what you do supports
Our father’s enemies and murderers.
I will not yield to them, no, not for all
The toys and trinkets that give you such pleasure.
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Enjoy your luxuries, your delicate food!
It is enough for me if I may eat
What does not turn my stomach. I have no
Desire to share in your high privileges.
And you would scorn them, if you knew your duty.
You might be known as Agamemnon’s child,
But let them call you Clytemnestra’s daughter,
And recognize your treason, who abandon
Your murdered father and your family.
CHORUS. Do not give way to anger. Each of you
Can with advantage listen to the other.
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CHRYSOTHEMIS. I am well used to her tirades, my friends;
I would not have provoked her, but that
I Know that the gravest danger threatens her:
They are resolved to end her long complaints.
ELECTRA. What is this awful thing? If it is worse
Than this I will not say another word.
CHRYSOTHEMIS. I’ll tell you everything I know.—
They have determined,
If you will not give up these protestations,
To imprison you in such a place that you
Will never see the sun again, but live
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To sing your own laments in some dark dungeon.*
So think on this, or, when the blow has fallen,
Do not blame me. Now is the time for prudence.
ELECTRA. Will they do that to me?
CHRYSOTHEMIS.
They will; it is
Decreed, the moment that Aegisthus has returned.
ELECTRA. Then let him come at once, for all I care!
CHRYSOTHEMIS. How can you say it? Are you mad?
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ELECTRA.
At least,
I shall be out of sight of all of you.
CHRYSOTHEMIS. But to give up the life you lead with us!
ELECTRA. A marvellous existence! One to envy!
CHRYSOTHEMIS. It could be, if you would behave with sense.
ELECTRA. You’ll not teach me to abandon those I love.
CHRYSOTHEMIS. Not that, but to give in to those who rule us.
ELECTRA. Let that be your excuse; I will not make it!
CHRYSOTHEMIS. It is a duty, not to fall through folly.
ELECTRA. I’ll fall, if fall I must, avenging him.
CHRYSOTHEMIS. Our father will not blame me, I am sure.
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ELECTRA. Only a coward would rely on that!
CHRYSOTHEMIS. Will you not listen, and let me persuade you?
ELECTRA. Never! I hope my judgement will not fall
As low as that.
CHRYSOTHEMIS. Then I will say no more.
I’ll leave you now, and go upon my errand.
ELECTRA. Where are you going, with those offerings?
CHRYSOTHEMIS. I am to lay them on our father’s tomb;
Our mother sent me.
ELECTRA.
She? Give offerings
To him who is her deadliest enemy?
CHRYSOTHEMIS. Say next: ‘The husband slain by her own hand’!
ELECTRA. Who thought of this
CHRYSOTHEMIS. She had a dream, I think, that
frightened her.
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ELECTRA. Gods of our race! Be with us now, at last!
CHRYSOTHEMIS. Do you find cause of hope in this bad dream?
ELECTRA. Tell me the dream, and then perhaps I’ll know.
CHRYSOTHEMIS. I cannot tell you much.
ELECTRA.
But tell me that!
The safety or the ruin of a house
Will often turn upon a little thing.
CHRYSOTHEMIS. They say that in her dream she saw our father
Returned to life and standing at her side;
He took the sceptre which he used to hold
Himself—the one that now Aegisthus carries—
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And planted it beside the hearth; from that
There grew, and spread, an over-arching tree
That gave its shelter to the whole of Argos.
At sunrise, to allay her fear, she told
Her vision to the sun-god:* one who stood
Nearby and heard reported it to me.
I cannot tell you more, except that I
Am sent because the dream has frightened her.
So now, I beg you, in the name of all
The gods we worship, do as I advise:
Give up this folly which will be your ruin.
If you reject me now, you will return
To me when nothing I can do will help you.
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ELECTRA. Dear sister, do not let these offerings
Come near his tomb; it is a thing that law
And piety forbid, to dedicate
To him gifts and libations that are sent
By her, his deadliest, bitterest enemy.
Bury them in the ground, or throw them to
The random winds, that none of them may reach him.
No; let them all be kept in store for her
In Hell, a treasure for her when she dies.
If she were not the most insensate woman
The world has ever seen, she’d not have dared
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To try to crown the tomb of him she killed
With gifts inspired by enmity. Think: would they
Cause any gratitude in him? Did she not kill him?
And with such hatred, and with such dishonour,
That she attacked even his lifeless body
And mangled it?* You cannot think that gifts
Will gain her absolution from her crime?
Impossible! No, let them be, and make
A different offering at our father’s grave:
Give him a lock of hair for token, one
Of yours, and one of mine*—no lordly gifts,
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But all I have; and give him too this girdle,
Poor, unadorned; and as you give them, kneel
Upon his grave; beseech him, from the world
Below, to look with favour on us, and
To give his aid against our enemies;
And that his son Orestes may be saved
To come in triumph and to trample on
His foes, that in the days to come we may
Grace him with gifts more splendid far than those
That we can offer now. For I believe,
I do believe, that in this dream, to her
So terrifying, the spirit of our father
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Has played some part. However that may be,
My sister, do this service to yourself,
To me, and to the one we love beyond
All others, him who now is dead—our father.
CHORUS. My child, if you are wise, you will do all
She bids you, for she speaks in piety.
CHRYSOTHEMIS. Do it I will; when duty’s clear, there is
No cause to argue, but to do it quickly.
But, O my friends, I beg you, keep it secret,
This that I undertake. If it should come
To Clytemnestra’s knowledge, then I fear
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I should pay dearly for this enterprise.
[Exit CHRYSOTHEMIS
Strophe 1
CHORUS [sings]. If I have any foresight, any judgement to be trusted,