Comparison between the _Choephorae_ of Aeschylus, the _Electra_ of
Sophocles and that of Euripides.
The relation in which Euripides stood to his two great predecessors, may
be set in the clearest light by a comparison between their three pieces
which we fortunately still possess, on the same subject, namely, the
avenging murder of Clytemnestra by her son Orestes.
The scene of the _Choephorae of Aeschylus_ is laid in front of the
royal palace; the tomb of Agamemnon appears on the stage. Orestes appears
at the sepulchre, with his faithful Pylades, and opens the play (which is
unfortunately somewhat mutilated at the commencement,) with a prayer to
Mercury, and with an invocation to his father, in which he promises to
avenge him, and to whom he consecrates a lock of his hair. He sees a
female train in mourning weeds issuing from the palace, to bring a
libation to the grave; and, as he thinks he recognises his sister among
them, he steps aside with Pylades in order to observe them unperceived.
The chorus, which consists of captive Trojan virgins, in a speech,
accompanied with mournful gestures, reveals the occasion of their coming,
namely, a fearful dream of Clytemnestra; it adds its own dark forebodings
of an impending retribution of the bloody crime, and bewails its lot in
being obliged to serve unrighteous masters. Electra demands of the chorus
whether she shall fulfil the commission of her hostile mother, or pour out
their offerings in silence; and then, in compliance with their advice, she
also offers up a prayer to the subterranean Mercury and to the soul of her
father, in her own name and that of the absent Orestes, that he may appear
as the avenger. While pouring out the offering she joins the chorus in
lamentations for the departed hero. Presently, finding a lock of hair
resembling her own in colour, and seeing footsteps near the grave she
conjectures that her brother has been there, and when she is almost
frantic with joy at the thought, Orestes steps forward and discovers
himself. He completely overcomes her doubts by exhibiting a garment woven
by her own hand: they give themselves up to their joy; he addresses a
prayer to Jupiter, and makes known how Apollo, under the most dreadful
threats of persecution by his father's Furies, has called on him to
destroy the authors of his death in the same manner as they had destroyed
him, namely, by guile and cunning. Now follow odes of the chorus and
Electra; partly consisting of prayers to her father's shade and the
subterranean divinities, and partly recapitulating all the motives for the
deed, especially those derived from the death of Agamemnon. Orestes
inquires into the vision which induced Clytemnestra to offer the libation,
and is informed that she dreamt that she had given her breast to a dragon
in her son's cradle, and suckled it with her blood. He hereupon resolves
to become this dragon, and announces his intention of stealing into the
house, disguised as a stranger, and attacking both her and Aegisthus by
surprise. With this view he withdraws along with Pylades. The subject of
the next choral hymn is the boundless audacity of mankind in general, and
especially of women in the gratification of their unlawful passions, which
it confirms by terrible examples from mythic story, and descants upon the
avenging justice which is sure to overtake them at last. Orestes, in the
guise of a stranger, returns with Pylades, and desires admission into the
palace. Clytemnestra comes out, and being informed by him of the death of
Orestes, at which tidings Electra assumes a feigned grief, she invites him
to enter and partake of their hospitality. After a short prayer of the
chorus, the nurse comes and mourns for her foster-child; the chorus
inspires her with a hope that he yet lives, and advises her to contrive to
bring Aegisthus, for whom Clytemnestra has sent her, not with, but without
his body guard. As the critical moment draws near, the chorus proffers
prayers to Jupiter and Mercury for the success of the plot. Aegisthus
enters into conversation with the messenger: he can hardly allow himself
to believe the joyful news of the death of Orestes, and hastens into the
house for the purpose of ascertaining the truth, from whence, after a
short prayer of the chorus, we hear the cries of the murdered. A servant
rushes out, and to warn Clytemnestra gives the alarm at the door of the
women's apartment. She hears it, comes forward, and calls for an axe to
defend herself; but as Orestes instantaneously rushes on her with the
bloody sword, her courage fails her, and, most affectingly, she holds up
to him the breast at which she had suckled him. Hesitating in his purpose,
he asks the counsel of Pylades, who in a few lines exhorts him by the most
cogent reasons to persist; after a brief dialogue of accusation and
defence, he pursues her into the house to slay her beside the body of
Aegisthus. In a solemn ode the chorus exults in the consummated
retribution. The doors of the palace are thrown open, and disclose in the
chamber the two dead bodies laid side by side on one bed. Orestes orders
the servants to unfold the garment in whose capacious folds his father was
muffled when he was slain, that it may be seen by all; the chorus
recognise on it the stains of blood, and mourn afresh the murder of
Agamemnon. Orestes, feeling his mind already becoming confused, seizes the
first moment to justify his acts, and having declared his intention of
repairing to Delphi to purify himself from his blood-guiltiness, flies in
terror from the furies of his mother, whom the chorus does not perceive,
but conceives to be a mere phantom of his imagination, but who,
nevertheless, will no longer allow him any repose. The chorus concludes
with a reflection on the scene of murder thrice-repeated in the royal
palace since the repast of Thyestes.
The scene of the _Electra of Sophocles_ is also laid before the palace,
but does not contain the grave of Agamemnon. At break of day Pylades,
Orestes, and the guardian slave who had been his preserver on that bloody
day, enter the stage as just arriving from a foreign country. The keeper
who acts as his guide commences with a description of his native city, and
he is answered by Orestes, who recounts the commission given him by
Apollo, and the manner in which he intends to carry it into execution,
after which the young man puts up a prayer to his domestic gods and to the
house of his fathers. Electra is heard complaining within; Orestes is
desirous of greeting her without delay, but the old man leads him away to
offer a sacrifice at the grave of his father. Electra then appears, and
pours out her sorrow in a pathetic address to heaven, and in a prayer to
the infernal deities her unconquerable desire of revenge. The chorus,
which consists of native virgins, endeavours to console her; and,
interchanging hymn and speech with the chorus, Electra discloses her
unabatable sorrow, the contumely and oppression under which she suffers,
and her hopelessness occasioned by the many delays of Orestes,
notwithstanding her frequent exhortations; and she turns a deaf ear to all
the grounds of consolation which the chorus can suggest. Chrysothemis,
Clytemnestra's younger, more submissive, and favourite daughter,
approaches with an offering which she is to carry to the grave of her
father. Their difference of sentiment leads to an altercation between the
two sisters, during which Chrysothemis informs Electra that Aegisthus, now
absent in the country, has determined to adopt the most severe measures
with her, whom, however, she sets at defiance. She then learns from her
sister that Clytemnestra has had a dream that Agamemnon had come to life
again, and had planted his sceptre in the floor of the house, and it had
grown up into a tree that overshadowed the whole land; that, alarmed at
this vision, she had commissioned Chrysothemis to carry an oblation to his
grave. Electra counsels her not to execute the commands of her wicked
mother, but to put up a prayer for herself and her sister, and for the
return of Orestes as the avenger of his father; she then adds to the
oblation her own girdle and a lock of her hair. Chrysothemis goes off,
promising obedience to her wishes. The chorus augurs from the dream, that
retribution is at hand, and traces back the crimes committed in this house
to the primal sin of Pelops. Clytemnestra rebukes her daughter, with whom,
however, probably under the influence of the dream, she is milder than
usual; she defends her murder of Agamemnon, Electra condemns her for it,
but without violent altercation. Upon this Clytemnestra, standing at the
altar in front of the house, proffers a prayer to Apollo for health and
long life, and a secret one for the death of her son. The guardian of
Orestes arrives, and, in the character of a messenger from a Phocian
friend, announces the death of Orestes, and minutely enumerates all the
circumstances which attended his being killed in a chariot-race at the
Pythian games. Clytemnestra, although visited for a moment with a mother's
feelings, can scarce conceal her triumphant joy, and invites the messenger
to partake of the hospitality of her house. Electra, in touching speeches
and hymns, gives herself up to grief; the chorus in vain endeavours to
console her. Chrysothemis returns from the grave, full of joy in the
assurance that Orestes is near; for she has found his lock of hair, his
drink-offering and wreaths of flowers. This serves but to renew the
despair of Electra, who recounts to her sister the gloomy tidings which
have just arrived, and exhorts her, now that all other hope is at an end,
to join with her in the daring deed of putting Aegisthus to death: a
proposal which Chrysothemis, not possessing the necessary courage, rejects
as foolish, and after a violent altercation she re-enters the house. The
chorus bewails Electra, now left utterly desolate. Orestes returns with
Pylades and several servants bearing an urn with the pretended ashes of
the deceased youth. Electra begs it of them, and laments over it in the
most affecting language, which agitates Orestes to such a degree that he
can no longer conceal himself; after some preparation he discloses himself
to her, and confirms the announcement by producing the seal-ring of their
father. She gives vent in speech and song to her unbounded joy, till the
old attendant of Orestes comes out and reprimands them both for their want
of consideration. Electra with some difficulty recognizes in him the
faithful servant to whom she had entrusted the care of Orestes, and
expresses her gratitude to him. At the suggestion of the old man, Orestes
and Pylades accompany him with all speed into the house, in order to
surprise Clytemnestra while she is still alone. Electra offers up a prayer
to Apollo in their behalf; the choral ode announces the moment of
retribution. From within the house is heard the shrieks of the affrighted
Clytemnestra, her short prayer, her cry of agony under the death-blow.
Electra from without stimulates Orestes to complete the deed, and he comes
out with bloody hands. Warned however by the chorus of the approach of
Aegisthus, he hastily re-enters the house in order to take him by
surprise. Aegisthus inquires into the story of Orestes' death, and from
the ambiguous language of Electra is led to believe that his corpse is in
the palace. He commands all the gates to be thrown open, immediately, for
the purpose of convincing those of the people who yielded reluctant
obedience to his sovereignty, that they had no longer any hopes in
Orestes. The middle entrance opens, and discloses in the interior of the
palace a body lying on the bed, but closely covered over: Orestes stands
beside the body, and invites Aegisthus to uncover it; he suddenly beholds
the bloody corpse of Clytemnestra, and concludes himself lost and without
hope. He requests to be allowed to speak, but this is prevented by
Electra. Orestes constrains him to enter the house, that he may kill him
on the very spot where his own father had been murdered.
The scene of the _Electra of Euripides_ is not in Mycenae, in the
open country, but on the borders of Argolis, and before a solitary and
miserable cottage. The owner, an old peasant, comes out and in a prologue
tells the audience how matters stand in the royal house, with this
addition, however, to the incidents related in the two plays already
considered, that not content to treat Electra with ignominy, and to leave
her in a state of celibacy, they had forced her to marry beneath her rank,
and to accept of himself for a husband: the motives he assigns for this
proceeding are singular enough; he declares, however, that he has too much
respect for her to reduce her to the humiliation of becoming in reality
his wife.--They live therefore in virgin wedlock. Electra comes forth
before it is yet daybreak bearing upon her head, which is close shorn in
servile fashion, a pitcher to fetch water: her husband entreats her not to
trouble herself with such unaccustomed labours, but she will not be
withheld from the discharge of her household duties; and the two depart,
he to his work in the field and she upon her errand. Orestes now enters
with Pylades, and, in a speech to him, states that he has already
sacrificed at his father's grave, but that not daring to enter the city,
he wishes to find his sister, who, he is aware, is married and dwells
somewhere near on the frontiers, that he may learn from her the posture of
affairs. He sees Electra approach with the water-pitcher, and retires. She
breaks out into an ode bewailing her own fate and that of her father.
Hereupon the chorus, consisting of rustic virgins, makes its appearance,
and exhorts her to take a part in a festival of Juno, which she, however,
depressed in spirit, pointing to her tattered garments, declines. The
chorus offer to supply her with festal ornaments, but she still refuses.
She perceives Orestes and Pylades in their hiding-place, takes them for
robbers, and hastens to escape into the house; when Orestes steps forward
and prevents her, she imagines he intends to murder her; he removes her
fears, and gives her assurances that her brother is still alive. On this
he inquires into her situation, and the spectators are again treated with
a repetition of all the circumstances. Orestes still forbears to disclose
himself, and promising merely to carry any message from Electra to her
brother, testifies, as a stranger, his sympathy in her situation. The
chorus seizes this opportunity of gratifying its curiosity about the fatal
events of the city; and Electra, after describing her own misery, depicts
the wantonness and arrogance of her mother and Aegisthus, who, she says,
leaps in contempt upon Agamemnon's grave, and throws stones at it. The
peasant returns from his work, and thinks it rather indecorous in his wife
to be gossiping with young men, but when he hears that they have brought
news of Orestes, he invites them in a friendly manner into his house.
Orestes, on witnessing the behaviour of the worthy man, makes the
reflection that the most estimable people are frequently to be found in
low stations, and in lowly garb. Electra upbraids her husband for inviting
them, knowing as he must that they had nothing in the house to entertain
them with; he is of opinion that the strangers will be satisfied with what
he has, that a good housewife can always make the most of things, and that
they have at least enough for one day. She dispatches him to Orestes' old
keeper and preserver who lives hard by them, to bid him come and bring
something with him to entertain the strangers, and the peasant departs
muttering wise saws about riches and moderation. The chorus bursting out
into an ode on the expedition of the Greeks against Troy, describes at
great length the figures wrought on the shield which Achilles received
from Thetis, and concludes with expressing a wish that Clytemnestra may be
punished for her wickedness.
The old guardian, who with no small difficulty ascends the hill towards
the house, brings Electra a lamb, a cheese, and a skin of wine; he then
begins to weep, not failing of course to wipe his eyes with his tattered
garments. In reply to the questions of Electra he states, that at the
grave of Agamemnon he found traces of an oblation and a lock of hair; from
which circumstance he conjectured that Orestes had been there. We have
then an allusion to the means which Aeschylus had employed to bring about
the recognition, namely, the resemblance of the hair, the prints of feet,
as well as the homespun-robe, with a condemnation of them as insufficient
and absurd. The probability of this part of the drama of Aeschylus may,
perhaps, admit of being cleared up, at all events one is ready to overlook
it; but an express reference like this to another author's treatment of
the same subject, is the most annoying interruption and the most fatal to
genuine poetry that can possibly be conceived. The guests come out; the
old man attentively considers Orestes, recognizes him, and convinces
Electra that he is her brother by a scar on his eyebrow, which he received
from a fall (this is the superb invention, which he substitutes for that
of Aeschylus), Orestes and Electra embrace during a short choral ode, and
abandon themselves to their joy. In a long dialogue, Orestes, the old
slave, and Electra, form their plans. The old man informs them that
Aegisthus is at present in the country sacrificing to the Nymphs, and
Orestes resolves to steal there as a guest, and to fall on him by
surprise. Clytemnestra, from a dread of unpleasant remarks, has not
accompanied him; and Electra undertakes to entice her mother to them by a
false message of her being in child-bed. The brother and sister now join
in prayers to the gods and their father's shade, for a successful issue of
their designs. Electra declares that she will put an end to her existence
if they should miscarry, and, for that purpose, she will keep a sword in
readiness. The old tutor departs with Orestes to conduct him to Aegisthus,
and to repair afterwards to Clytemnestra. The chorus sings of the Golden
Ram, which Thyestes, by the assistance of the faithless wife of Atreus,
was enabled to carry off from him, and the repast furnished with the flesh
of his own children, with which he was punished in return; at the sight of
which the sun turned aside from his course; a circumstance, however, which
the chorus very sapiently adds, that it was very much inclined to call in
question. From a distance is heard a noise of tumult and groans; Electra
fears that her brother has been overcome, and is on the point of killing
herself. But at the moment a messenger arrives, who gives a long-winded
account of the death of Aegisthus, and interlards it with many a joke.
Amidst the rejoicings of the chorus, Electra fetches a wreath and crowns
her brother, who holds in his hands the head of Aegisthus by the hair.
This head she upbraids in a long speech with its follies and crimes, and
among other things says to it, it is never well to marry a woman with whom
one has previously lived in illicit intercourse; that it is an unseemly
thing when a woman obtains the mastery in a family, &c. Clytemnestra is
now seen approaching; Orestes begins to have scruples of conscience as to
his purpose of murdering a mother, and the authority of the oracle, but
yields to the persuasions of Electra, and agrees to do the deed within the
house. The queen arrives, drawn in a chariot sumptuously hung with
tapestry, and surrounded by Trojan slaves; Electra makes an offer to
assist her in alighting, which, however, is declined. Clytemnestra then
alleges the sacrifice of Iphigenia as a justification of her own conduct
towards Agamemnon, and calls even upon her daughter to state her reasons
in condemnation, that an opportunity may be given to the latter of
delivering a subtle, captious harangue, in which, among other things, she
reproaches her mother with having, during the absence of Agamemnon, sat
before her mirror, and studied her toilette too much. With all this
Clytemnestra is not provoked, even though her daughter does not hesitate
to declare her intention of putting her to death if ever it should be in
her power; she makes inquiries about her daughter's supposed confinement,
and enters the hut to prepare the necessary sacrifice of purification.
Electra accompanies her with a sarcastic speech. On this the chorus begins
an ode on retribution: the shrieks of the murdered woman are heard within
the house, and the brother and sister come out stained with her blood.
They are full of repentance and despair at the deed which they have
committed; increase their remorse by repeating the pitiable words and
gestures of their dying parent. Orestes determines on flight into foreign
lands, while Electra asks, "Who will now take me in marriage?" Castor and
Pollux, their uncles, appear in the air, abuse Apollo on account of his
oracle, command Orestes, in order to save himself from the Furies, to
submit to the sentence of the Areopagus, and conclude with predicting a
number of events which are yet to happen to him. They then enjoin a
marriage between Electra and Pylades; who are to take her first husband
with them to Phocis, and there richly to provide for him. After a further
outburst of sorrow, the brother and sister take leave of one another for
life, and the piece concludes.
We easily perceive that Aeschylus has viewed the subject in its most
terrible aspect, and drawn it within that domain of the gloomy divinities,
whose recesses he so loves to haunt. The grave of Agamemnon is the murky
gloom from which retributive vengeance issues; his discontented shade, the
soul of the whole poem. The obvious external defect, that the action
lingers too long at the same point, without any sensible progress,
appears, on reflection, a true internal perfection: it is the stillness of
expectation before a deep storm or an earthquake. It is true the prayers
are repeated, but their very accumulation heightens the impression of a
great unheard-of purpose, for which human powers and motives by themselves
are insufficient. In the murder of Clytemnestra, and her heart-rending
appeals, the poet, without disguising her guilt, has gone to the very
verge of what was allowable in awakening our sympathy with her sufferings.
The crime which is to be punished is kept in view from the very first by
the grave, and, at the conclusion, it is brought still nearer to our minds
by the unfolding the fatal garment: thus, Agamemnon non, after being fully
avenged, is, as it were, murdered again before the mental eye. The flight
of Orestes betrays no undignified weakness or repentance; it is merely the
inevitable tribute which he must pay to offended nature.
It is only necessary to notice in general terms the admirable management
of the subject by Sophocles. What a beautiful introduction has he made to
precede the queen's mission to the grave, with which Aeschylus begins at
once! With what polished ornament has he embellished it throughout, for
example, with the description of the games! With what nice judgment does
he husband the pathos of Electra; first, general lamentations, then hopes
derived from the dream, their annihilation by the news of Orestes' death,
the new hopes suggested by Chrysothemis only to be rejected, and lastly
her mourning over the urn. Electra's heroism is finely set off by the
contrast with her more submissive sister. The poet has given quite a new
turn to the subject by making Electra the chief object of interest. A
noble pair has the poet here given us; the sister endued with unshaken
constancy in true and noble sentiments, and the invincible heroism of
endurance; the brother prompt and vigorous in all the energy of youth. To
this he skilfully opposes circumspection and experience in the old man,
while the fact that Sophocles as well as Aeschylus has left Pylades
silent, is a proof how carefully ancient art disdained all unnecessary
surplusage.
But what more especially characterizes the tragedy of Sophocles, is the
heavenly serenity beside a subject so terrific, the fresh air of life and
youth which breathes through the whole. The bright divinity of Apollo, who
enjoined the deed, seems to shed his influence over it; even the break of
day, in the opening scene, is significant. The grave and the world of
shadows, are kept in the background: what in Aeschylus is effected by the
spirit of the murdered monarch, proceeds here from the heart of the still
living Electra, which is endowed with an equal capacity for
inextinguishable hatred or ardent love. The disposition to avoid
everything dark and ominous, is remarkable even in the very first speech
of Orestes, where he says he feels no concern at being thought dead, so
long as he knows himself to be alive, and in the full enjoyment of health
and strength. He is not beset with misgivings or stings of conscience
either before or after the deed, so that the determination is more
steadily maintained by Sophocles than in Aeschylus; and the appalling
scene with Aegisthus, and the reserving him for an ignominious death to
the very close of the piece, is more austere and solemn than anything in
the older drama. Clytemnestra's dreams furnish the most striking token of
the relation which the two poets bear to each other: both are equally
appropriate, significant, and ominous; that of Aeschylus is grander, but
appalling to the senses; that of Sophocles, in its very tearfulness,
majestically beautiful.
The piece of Euripides is a singular example of poetic, or rather unpoetic
obliquity; we should never have done were we to attempt to point out all
its absurdities and contradictions. Why, for instance, does Orestes
fruitlessly torment his sister by maintaining his incognito so long? The
poet too, makes it a light matter to throw aside whatever stands in his
way, as in the case of the peasant, of whom, after his departure to summon
the old keeper, we have no farther account. Partly for the sake of
appearing original, and partly from an idea that to make Orestes kill the
king and queen in the middle of their capital would be inconsistent with
probability, Euripides has involved himself in still greater
improbabilities. Whatever there is of the tragical in his drama is not his
own, but belongs either to the fable, to his predecessors, or to
tradition. In his hands, at least, it has ceased to be tragedy, but is
lowered into "a family picture," in the modern signification of the word.
The effect attempted to be produced by the poverty of Electra is pitiful
in the extreme; the poet has betrayed his secret in the complacent display
which she makes of her misery. All the preparations for the crowning act
are marked by levity, and a want of internal conviction: it is a
gratuitous torture of our feelings to make Aegisthus display a good-
natured hospitality, and Clytemnestra a maternal sympathy with her
daughter, merely to excite our compassion in their behalf; the deed is no
sooner executed, but its effect is obliterated by the most despicable
repentance, a repentance which arises from no moral feeling, but from a
merely animal revulsion. I shall say nothing of his abuse of the oracle of
Delphi. As it destroys the very basis of the whole drama, I cannot see why
Euripides should have written it, except to provide a fortunate marriage
for Electra, and to reward the peasant for his continency. I could wish
that the wedding of Pylades had been celebrated on the stage, and that a
good round sum of money had been paid to the peasant on the spot; then
everything would have ended to the satisfaction of the spectators as in an
ordinary comedy.
Not, however, to be unjust, I must admit that the _Electra_ is perhaps the
very worst of Euripides' pieces. Was it the rage for novelty which led him
here into such faults? He was truly to be pitied for having been preceded
in the treatment of this same subject by two such men as Sophocles and
Aeschylus. But what compelled him to measure his powers with theirs, and
to write an _Electra_ at all?