_Enter the Orchestra Chorus of Maidens of Mycenae, and in dialogue_
(_two Strophes and Antistrophes_) beg Electra to join them in an
approaching festival, as she had been wont in happier days.--Electra
declares she is fit for tears and rags, not for festivities.--As for
rags they will find her the festal robes; and vows, instead of tears
may gain the goddess's help.--No god, says Electra, has an ear for the
wretched, and in wretched toil and obscure retreat her life is wasting
away.--_A sob from the concealed Orestes startles them, and they are
about to flee, when Orestes and Pylades discover themselves and
reassure them_. With difficulty he restrains his emotions throughout a
long conversation, personating a messenger from himself to Electra.
_Ores._ Bearing thy brother's words to thee I come. {251}
_Elec._ Most welcome: breathes he yet this vital air?
_Ores._ He lives: I first would speak what brings thee joy.
_Elec._ Oh be thou blest for these most grateful words!
_Ores._ To both in common this I give to share.
_Elec._ Where is th' unhappy outcast wand'ring now?
_Ores._ He wastes his life not subject to one state.
_Elec._ Finds he with toil what life each day requires?
_Ores._ Not so; but mean the wand'ring exile's state.
_Elec._ But with what message art thou from him charg'd?
_Ores._ T' inquire, if living, where thou bear'st thy griefs.
_Elec._ First then observe my thin and wasted state.
_Ores._ Wasted with grief, so that I pity thee.
_Elec._ Behold my head, its crisped honours shorn.
_Ores._ Mourning thy brother, or thy father dead?
_Elec._ What can be dearer to my soul than these?
_Ores._ Alas! What deem'st thou are thy brother's thoughts?
_Elec._ He, though far distant, is most dear to me.
_Ores._ Why here thy dwelling from the city far?
_Elec._ O, stranger, in base nuptials I am join'd--
_Ores._ I feel thy brother's grief!--To one of rank?
_Elec._ Not as my father once to place me hop'd--
_Ores._ That hearing I may tell thy brother, speak.
_Elec._ This is his house: in this I dwell remote.
_Ores._ This house some digger or some herdsman suits.
_Elec._ Generous, though poor, in reverence me he holds.
_Ores._ To thee what reverence doth thy husband pay?
_Elec._ He never hath presumed t' approach my bed.
The conversation is prolonged, bringing out for the benefit of the
Strangers and the Chorus the whole of Electra's troubles, and how her
father's blood is crying for vengeance.
_Elec._ The monarch's tomb
Unhonoured, nor libations hath receiv'd,
Nor myrtle bough, no hallow'd ornament
Hath dignified the pyre. Inflamed with wine,
My mother's husband, the illustrious lord,
For so they call him, trampled on the earth
Insultingly where Agamemnon lies,
And hurling 'gainst his monument a stone,
Thus taunts us with proud scorn, "Where is thy son,
"Orestes where? right noble is thy tomb
"Protected by his presence." Thus he mocks
The absent; but, O stranger, tell him this
Suppliant I beg thee. {371}
_Enter unexpectedly the Peasant_. On hearing that these strangers are
messengers from Orestes, he instantly calls for refreshments to be
brought, and begs the stranger to delay no longer to enter the cottage:
poverty must be no excuse for not offering what hospitality he has.--A
burst of admiration is drawn from Orestes. {400}
_Ores._ Nature hath giv'n no outward mark to note
The generous mind; the qualities of men
To sense are indistinct. I oft have seen
One of no worth a noble father shame,
And from vile parents worthy children spring,
Meanness oft grov'lling in the rich man's mind,
And oft exalted spirits in the poor.
How then discerning shall we judge aright?
By riches? ill would they abide the test.
By poverty? on poverty awaits
This ill, through want it prompts to sordid deeds.
Shall we pronounce by arms? but who can judge
By looking on the spear the dauntless heart?
Such judgment is fallacious; for this man,
Nor great among the Argives, nor elate
With the proud honours of his house, his rank
Plebeian, hath approv'd his liberal heart.
Will you not then learn wisdom, you whose minds
Error with false presentments leads astray?
Will you not learn by manners and by deeds
To judge the noble? Such discharge their trust
With honour to the state and to their house.
Mere flesh without a spirit is no more
Than statues in the forum; nor in war
Doth the strong arm the dang'rous shock abide
More than the weak; on nature this depends
And an intrepid mind. But we accept
Thy hospitable kindness; for the son
Of Agamemnon, for whose sake we come,
Present or not is worthy to this house.
Go, my attendants, I must enter it;
This man, though poor, more cheerful than the rich
Receives me; to his kindness thanks are due.
More would it joy me if thy brother, blest
Himself, could lead me to his prosperous house:
Yet haply he may come; th' oracular voice
Of Phoebus firmly will be ratified:
Lightly of human prophecies I deem. {438}
[_Orestes and his attendants enter the house._]
_Electra_ is in a quandary at the idea of people of such rank being
invited into her humble cottage.
_Peas._ Why not? If they are noble, as their port
Denotes them, will they not alike enjoy
Contentment, be their viands mean or rich?
The only device Electra can think of is to send to an old servant of
her father's house--the same who, as Tutor, preserved the child Orestes
on the fatal night--now an aged herdsman forced to hide himself in
obscurity, and ask him to help them in this emergency. _Exit Peasant
to the fields to find the old Tutor; Electra into the cottage_. {474}