Fourth Episode

(There enter from the left ORESTES and PYLADES, followed by some thralls.)

ELECTRA.O conqueror, come! The king that trampled TroyKnoweth his son Orestes. Come in joy,Brother, and take to bind thy rippling hairMy crowns!.... O what are crowns, that runners wearFor some vain race? But thou in battle trueHast felled our foe Aegisthus, him that slewBy craft thy sire and mine.(She crowns ORESTES.)And thou no less,O friend at need, O reared in righteousness,Take, Pylades, this chaplet from my hand.'Twas half thy battle. And may ye two standThus alway, victory-crowned, before my face!(She crowns PYLADES.)

ORESTES.Electra, first as workers of this gracePraise thou the Gods, and after, if thou will,Praise also me, as chosen to fulfilGod's work and Fate's.--Aye, 'tis no more a dream;In very deed I come from slaying him.Thou hast the knowledge clear, but lo, I bringMore also. See himself, dead!(Attendants bring in the body of AEGISTHUS on a bier.)Wouldst thou flingThis lord on the rotting earth for beasts to tear?Or up, where all the vultures of the airMay glut them, pierce and nail him for a signFar off? Work all thy will. Now he is thine.

ELECTRA.It shames me; yet, God knows, I hunger sore--

ORESTES.What wouldst thou? Speak; the old fear nevermoreNeed touch thee.

ELECTRA.To let loose upon the deadMy hate! Perchance to rouse on mine own headThe sleeping hate of the world?

ORESTES.No man that livesShall scathe thee by one word.

ELECTRA.Our city givesQuick blame; and little love have men for me.

ORESTES.If aught thou hast unsaid, sister, be freeAnd speak. Between this man and us no barCometh nor stint, but the utter rage of war.(She goes and stands over the body. A moment's silence.)

ELECTRA.Ah me, what have I? What first flood of hateTo loose upon thee? What last curse to sateMy pain, or river of wild words to flowBank-high between?... Nothing?... And yet I knowThere hath not passed one sun, but through the longCold dawns, over and over, like a song,I have said them--words held back, O, some day yetTo flash into thy face, would but the fretOf ancient fear fall loose and let me free.And free I am, now; and can pay to theeAt last the weary debt.Oh, thou didst killMy soul within. Who wrought thee any ill,That thou shouldst make me fatherless? Aye, meAnd this my brother, loveless, solitary?'Twas thou, didst bend my mother to her shame:Thy weak hand murdered him who led to fameThe hosts of Hellas--thou, that never crossedO'erseas to Troy!... God help thee, wast thou lostIn blindness, long ago, dreaming, some-wise,She would be true with thee, whose sin and liesThyself had tasted in my father's place?And then, that thou wert happy, when thy daysWere all one pain? Thou knewest ceaselesslyHer kiss a thing unclean, and she knew theeA lord so little true, so dearly won!So lost ye both, being in falseness one,What fortune else had granted; she thy curse,Who marred thee as she loved thee, and thou hers...And on thy ways thou heardst men whispering,"Lo, the Queen's husband yonder"--not "the King."And then the lie of lies that dimmed thy brow,Vaunting that by thy gold, thy chattels, ThouWert Something; which themselves are nothingness.Shadows, to clasp a moment ere they cease.The thing thou art, and not the things thou hast,Abideth, yea, and bindeth to the lastThy burden on thee: while all else, ill-wonAnd sin-companioned, like a flower o'erblown,Flies on the wind away.Or didst them findIn women ... Women?... Nay, peace, peace! The blindCould read thee. Cruel wast thou in thine hour,Lord of a great king's house, and like a towerFirm in thy beauty.(Starting back with a look of loathing.)Ah, that girl-like face!God grant, not that, not that, but some plain graceOf manhood to the man who brings me love:A father of straight children, that shall moveSwift on the wings of War.

So, get thee gone!Naught knowing how the great years, rolling on,Have laid thee bare, and thy long debt full paid.O vaunt not, if one step be proudly madeIn evil, that all Justice is o'ercast:Vaunt not, ye men of sin, ere at the lastThe thin-drawn marge before you glimmerethClose, and the goal that wheels 'twixt life and death.

LEADER.Justice is mighty. Passing dark hath beenHis sin: and dark the payment of his sin.

ELECTRA (with a weary sigh, turning from the body).Ah me! Go some of you, bear him from sight,That when my mother come, her eyes may lightOn nothing, nothing, till she know the sword....(The body is borne into the hut. PYLADES goes with it.)

ORESTES (looking along the road).Stay, 'tis a new thing! We have still a wordTo speak...

ELECTRA.What? Not a rescue from the townThou seëst?

ORESTES.'Tis my mother comes: my ownMother, that bare me.(He takes off his crown.)

ELECTRA (springing, as it were, to life again, and moving where she can see the road).Straight into the snare!Aye, there she cometh,--Welcome in thy rareChariot! All welcome in thy brave array!

ORESTES.What would we with our mother? Didst thou sayKill her?

ELECTRA (turning on him).What? Is it pity? Dost thou fearTo see thy mother's shape?

ORESTES.'Twas she that bareMy body into life. She gave me suck.How can I strike her?

ELECTRA.Strike her as she struckOur father!

ORESTES (to himself, brooding).Phoebus, God, was all thy mindTurned unto darkness?

ELECTRA.If thy God be blind,Shalt thou have light?

ORESTES (as before).Thou, thou, didst bid me killMy mother: which is sin.

ELECTRA.How brings it illTo thee, to raise our father from the dust?

ORESTES.I was a clean man once. Shall I be thrustFrom men's sight, blotted with her blood?

ELECTRA.Thy blotIs black as death if him thou succour not!

ORESTES.Who shall do judgment on me, when she dies?

ELECTRA.Who shall do judgment, if thy father lies.Forgotten?

ORESTES (turning suddenly to ELECTRA).Stay! How if some fiend of Hell,Hid in God's likeness, spake that oracle?

ELECTRA.In God's own house? I trow not.

ORESTES.And I trowIt was an evil charge!(He moves away from her.)

ELECTRA (almost despairing).To fail me now!To fail me now! A coward!--O brother, no!

ORESTES.What shall it be, then? The same stealthy blow ...

ELECTRA.That slew our father! Courage! thou hast slainAegisthus.

ORESTES.Aye. So be it.--I have ta'enA path of many terrors: and shall doDeeds horrible. 'Tis God will have it so....Is this the joy of battle, or wild woe?(He goes into the house.)

LEADER.O Queen o'er Argos thronèd high,O Woman, sister of the twain,God's Horsemen, stars without a stain,Whose home is in the deathless sky,Whose glory in the sea's wild pain,Toiling to succour men that die:Long years above us hast thou been,God-like for gold and marvelled power:Ah, well may mortal eyes this hourObserve thy state: All hail, O Queen!

(Enter from the right CLYTEMNESTRA on a chariot, accompanied by richly dressed Handmaidens.)

CLYTEMNESTRA.Down from the wain, ye dames of Troy, and holdMine arm as I dismount....(Answering ELECTRA'S thought.)The spoils and goldOf Ilion I have sent out of my hallTo many shrines. These bondwomen are allI keep in mine own house.... Deemst thou the costToo rich to pay me for the child I lost--Fair though they be?

ELECTRA.Nay, Mother, here am IBond likewise, yea, and homeless, to hold highThy royal arm!

CLYTEMNESTRA.Child, the war slaves are here;Thou needst not toil.

ELECTRA.What was it but the spearOf war, drove me forth too? Mine enemiesHave sacked my father's house, and, even as these,Captives and fatherless, made me their prey.

CLYTEMNESTRA.It was thy father cast his child away,A child he might have loved!... Shall I speak out?(Controlling herself)Nay; when a woman once is caught aboutWith evil fame, there riseth in her tongueA bitter spirit--wrong, I know! Yet, wrongOr right, I charge ye look on the deeds done;And if ye needs must hate, when all is known,Hate on! What profits loathing ere ye know?My father gave me to be his. 'Tis so.But was it his to kill me, or to killThe babes I bore? Yet, lo, he tricked my willWith fables of Achilles' love: he boreTo Aulis and the dark ship-clutching shore,He held above the altar-flame, and smote,Cool as one reaping, through the strainèd throat,My white Iphigenia.... Had it beenTo save some falling city, leaguered inWith foemen; to prop up our castle towers,And rescue other children that were ours,Giving one life for many, by God's lawsI had forgiven all! Not so. BecauseHelen was wanton, and her master knewNo curb for her: for that, for that, he slewMy daughter!--Even then, with all my wrong,No wild beast yet was in me. Nay, for long,I never would have killed him. But he came,At last, bringing that damsel, with the flameOf God about her, mad and knowing all:And set her in my room; and in one wallWould hold two queens!--O wild are woman's eyesAnd hot her heart. I say not otherwise.But, being thus wild, if then her master strayTo love far off, and cast his own away,Shall not her will break prison too, and wendSomewhere to win some other for a friend?And then on us the world's curse waxes strongIn righteousness! The lords of all the wrongMust hear no curse!--I slew him. I trod thenThe only road: which led me to the menHe hated. Of the friends of Argos whomDurst I have sought, to aid me to the doomI craved?--Speak if thou wouldst, and fear not me,If yet thou deemst him slain unrighteously.

LEADER.Thy words be just, yet shame their justice brings;A woman true of heart should bear all thingsFrom him she loves. And she who feels it not,I cannot reason of her, nor speak aught.

ELECTRA.Remember, mother, thy last word of grace,Bidding me speak, and fear not, to thy face.

CLYTEMNESTRA.So said I truly, child, and so say still.

ELECTRA.Wilt softly hear, and after work me ill?

CLYTEMNESTRA.Not so, not so. I will but pleasure thee.

ELECTRA.I answer then. And, mother, this shall beMy prayer of opening, where hangs the whole:Would God that He had made thee clean of soul!Helen and thou--O, face and form were fair,Meet for men's praise; but sisters twain ye were,Both things of naught, a stain on Castor's star,And Helen slew her honour, borne afarIn wilful ravishment: but thou didst slayThe highest man of the world. And now wilt say'Twas wrought in justice for thy child laid lowAt Aulis?... Ah, who knows thee as I know?Thou, thou, who long ere aught of ill was doneThy child, when Agamemnon scarce was gone,Sate at the looking-glass, and tress by tressDidst comb the twined gold in loneliness.When any wife, her lord being far away.Toils to be fair, O blot her out that dayAs false within! What would she with a cheekSo bright in strange men's eyes, unless she seekSome treason? None but I, thy child, could soWatch thee in Hellas: none but I could knowThy face of gladness when our enemiesWere strong, and the swift cloud upon thine eyesIf Troy seemed falling, all thy soul keen-setPraying that he might come no more!... And yetIt was so easy to be true. A kingWas thine, not feebler, not in anythingBelow Aegisthus; one whom Hellas choseFor chief beyond all kings. Aye, and God knows,How sweet a name in Greece, after the sinThy sister wrought, lay in thy ways to win.Ill deeds make fair ones shine, and turn theretoMen's eyes.--Enough: but say he wronged thee; slewBy craft thy child:--what wrong had I done, whatThe babe Orestes? Why didst render notBack unto us, the children of the dead,Our father's portion? Must thou heap thy bedWith gold of murdered men, to buy to theeThy strange man's arms? Justice! Why is not heWho cast Orestes out, cast out again?Not slain for me whom doubly he hath slain,In living death, more bitter than of oldMy sister's? Nay, when all the tale is toldOf blood for blood, what murder shall we make,I and Orestes, for our father's sake?

CLYTEMNESTRA.Aye, child; I know thy heart, from long ago.Thou hast alway loved him best. 'Tis oft-time so:One is her father's daughter, and one hotTo bear her mother's part. I blame thee not....Yet think not I am happy, child; nor flownWith pride now, in the deeds my hand hath done....(Seeing ELECTRA unsympathetic, she checks herself.)But thou art all untended, comfortlessOf body and wild of raiment; and thy stressOf travail scarce yet ended!... Woe is me!'Tis all as I have willed it. BitterlyI wrought against him, to the last blind deepOf bitterness.... Woe's me!

ELECTRA.Fair days to weep,When help is not! Or stay: though he lie coldLong since, there lives another of thy foldFar off; there might be pity for thy son?

CLYTEMNESTRA.I dare not!... Yes, I fear him. 'Tis mine ownLife, and not his, comes first. And rumour saithHis heart yet burneth for his father's death.

ELECTRA.Why dost thou keep thine husband ever hotAgainst me?

CLYTEMNESTRA.'Tis his mood. And thou art notSo gentle, child!

ELECTRA.My spirit is too sore!Howbeit, from this day I will no moreHate him.

CLYTEMNESTRA (with a flash of hope).O daughter!--Then, indeed, shall he,I promise, never more be harsh to thee!

ELECTRA.He lieth in my house, as 'twere his own.'Tis that hath made him proud.

CLYTEMNESTRA.Nay, art thou flownTo strife again so quick, child?

ELECTRA.Well; I sayNo more; long have I feared him, and alwayShall fear him, even as now!

CLYTEMNESTRA.Nay, daughter, peace!It bringeth little profit, speech like this...Why didst thou call me hither?

ELECTRA.It reached thee,My word that a man-child is born to me?Do thou make offering for me--for the riteI know not--as is meet on the tenth night.I cannot; I have borne no child till now.

CLYTEMNESTRA.Who tended thee? 'Tis she should make the vow.

ELECTRA.None tended me. Alone I bare my child.

CLYTEMNESTRA.What, is thy cot so friendless? And this wildSo far from aid?

ELECTRA.Who seeks for friendship sakeA beggar's house?

CLYTEMNESTRA.I will go in, and makeDue worship for thy child, the Peace-bringer.To all thy need I would be minister.Then to my lord, where by the meadow sideHe prays the woodland nymphs.Ye handmaids, guideMy chariot to the stall, and when ye guessThe rite draws near its end, in readinessBe here again. Then to my lord!... I oweMy lord this gladness, too.

(The Attendants depart; CLYTEMNESTRA, left alone, proceeds to enter the house.)

ELECTRA.Welcome belowMy narrow roof! But have a care withal,A grime of smoke lies deep upon the wall.Soil not thy robe!...Not far now shall it be,The sacrifice God asks of me and thee.The bread of Death is broken, and the knifeLifted again that drank the Wild Bull's life:And on his breast.... Ha, Mother, hast slept wellAforetime? Thou shalt lie with him in Hell.That grace I give to cheer thee on thy road;Give thou to me--peace from my father's blood!(She follows her mother into the house.)