Electra

Full Text and Introduction

Sophocles, Marianne McDonald, J. Michael Walton

• Éditeur: Nick Hern Books
• Année: 2019
• ISBN:
  9781788502382
• Sujet: Literature
• Sous-sujet: Ancient & Classical Drama

Drama Classics: The World's Great Plays at a Great Little Price

A tragic tale of duty, retribution and fate.

King Agamemnon, on returning from the Trojan Wars, is murdered by his wife, Clytemnestra, and her lover. Now, to avenge the crime, their daughter Electra must commit one even worse and face the inevitable consequences.

This edition of Sophocles' play Electra, in the Nick Hern Books Drama Classics series, is translated and introduced by Marianne McDonald and J. Michael Walton.

Outside the palace at Mycenae. Enter TUTOR with ORESTES and PYLADES.

TUTOR

Orestes,

Son of Agamemnon who commanded the army at Troy,

now at last you can look on your heart’s desire.

Here we are: Argos, your beloved city,

the holy place where Io, daughter of Inachus,

was driven by the gadfly of Hera.

And over here the agora of Apollo, killer of wolves;

there to the left, Hera’s famous temple.

From where we’re standing you can boast

you see Mycenae with all its gold,

and Pelops’ palace with all its wealth of blood.

Your sister handed you over to me

and I took you far away from here.

I saved your life after your father’s death,

and raised you up to be the strong man you are,

an avenger for your father.

Now, Orestes, and dear friend Pylades,

we must quickly make our plans.

Now the bright gleam of the sun

wakes the clear morning song of the birds,

and the dark night of stars has fled.

Now’s the crucial moment, and the time to act;

we must seize it before the city stirs.

ORESTES

Dear old friend, you show me clearly

what a good and loyal man you are.

A thoroughbred, even if he’s old,

is always there when you need him,

pricking up his ears and champing at the bit,

the first to encourage, and the first to follow us.

Here’s what I’m planning to do.

Listen carefully and, if I’m off target, set me straight.

When I went to the oracle of Apollo,

to discover how best to take revenge for my father –

revenge on his killers that is my right and due –

here’s what Apollo said:

‘Place not your trust in an army’s sword or shield.

Use cunning. Kill them yourself and justly so.’

Those were Apollo’s very words.

So, when you get the chance, go inside the palace.

Find out what they are doing, and give us a full report.

No need to fear they’ll recognise you,

you are too old and grey for that.

They won’t be suspicious. Here’s what you should say:

you’re a Phocian stranger sent by Phanoteus,

their greatest ally.

Tell them on oath that Orestes is dead,

killed when he fell from his speeding chariot,

while competing in the Pythian Games.

That’s your story.

And we shall visit my father’s grave, as the god ordered,

to leave drink offerings and locks of hair.

Then we’ll come back and pick up the bronze urn

which, you remember, we hid in the brush,

so that we can bring it back to support our story

and deliver the happy news that it contains my ashes.

There’s no harm in saying that I am dead

when in fact I’m alive and about to win my fame.

No lie is bad if it achieves its purpose, I think.

I have known living wise men assumed dead,

who were honoured all the more on their return.

From this story, I’m sure it will be the same for me,

and I’ll strike like lightning against my enemies.

O my country, gods of this place,

and you, my father’s house,

give me good fortune as I go on my way,

for I come to right this wrong,

with Justice and the gods on my side.

Don’t send me away from my country in shame,

but restore my fortune and my house.

Enough talk!

You, old man, do what you have to do,

and we’ll be on our way.

Timing is everything: it makes or breaks

the affairs of men.

ELECTRA offstage.

ELECTRA

Io moi moi!

TUTOR

That sounded like a servant crying indoors.

ORESTES

Could it be poor Electra? Should we wait and listen?

TUTOR

No. Let’s not do anything before carrying out Apollo’s orders.

Drink offerings on your father’s grave: there’s our starting point.

That should guarantee victory and success in all we do.

Exeunt ORESTES, PYLADES, and TUTOR.

Enter ELECTRA from the palace, and, while she is speaking, the CHORUS.

ELECTRA

O Light that is holy

And Air that equally blankets earth,

How many times you have heard my cries,

How many mournful songs,

And the sound of blows

That bloodied my breast

Whenever dark night slipped away.

My hateful bed is also witness

As I cry all night for my father.

Ares, who loves bloodshed,

Did not invite him to rest in a barbarian land,

But my mother, and her bedmate Aegisthus,

Split open his head with a murderous axe

Just as a woodcutter splits an oak.

I am the only one to mourn poor Father,

Who died such a terrible death,

One deserving of pity.

I shall not stop weeping, or sobbing my agony,

As long as I see stars shining in the heavens,

Or the light of the dawning day,

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