Chapter 5 No.5

But such incongruities as these do not affect us in the tragedies based on the heroic fables; here the poet takes, without offense, any liberty he likes with time and place; the whole affair is in his hands, to do what he will, so long as he respects the internal harmony of his own work. For this reason, I think, we find Alfieri at his best in these tragedies, among which I have liked the Orestes best, as giving the widest range of feeling with the greatest vigor of action. The Agamemnon, which precedes it, and which ought to be read first, closes with its most powerful scene.

Agamemnon has returned from Troy to Argos with his captive Cassandra, and Aegisthus has persuaded Clytemnestra that her husband intends to raise Cassandra to the throne. She kills him and reigns with Aegisthus, Electra concealing Orestes on the night of the murder, and sending him secretly away with Strophius, king of Phocis.

In the last scene, as Clytemnestra steals through the darkness to her husband's chamber, she soliloquizes, with the dagger in her hand:

It is the hour; and sunk in slumber now

Lies Agamemnon. Shall he nevermore

Open his eyes to the fair light? My hand,

Once pledge to him of stainless love and faith,

Is it to be the minister of his death?

Did I swear that? Ay, that; and I must keep

My oath. Quick, let me go! My foot, heart, hand-

All over I tremble. Oh, what did I promise?

Wretch! what do I attempt? How all my courage

Hath vanished from me since Aegisthus vanished!

I only see the immense atrocity

Of this, my horrible deed; I only see

The bloody specter of Atrides! Ah,

In vain do I accuse thee! No, thou lovest

Cassandra not. Me, only me, thou lovest,

Unworthy of thy love. Thou hast no blame,

Save that thou art my husband, in the world!

Of trustful sleep, to death's arms by my hand?

And where then shall I hide me? O perfidy!

Can I e'er hope for peace? O woful life-

Life of remorse, of madness, and of tears!

How shall Aegisthus, even Aegisthus, dare

To rest beside the parricidal wife

Upon her murder-stained marriage-bed,

Nor tremble for himself? Away, away,-

Hence, horrible instrument of all my guilt

And harm, thou execrable dagger, hence!

I'll lose at once my lover and my life,

But never by this hand betrayed shall fall

So great a hero! Live, honor of Greece

And Asia's terror! Live to glory, live

To thy dear children, and a better wife!

-But what are these hushed steps? Into these rooms

Who is it comes by night? Aegisthus?-Lost,

I am lost!

Aegisthus. Hast thou not done the deed?

Cly. Aegisthus--

Aeg. What, stand'st thou here, wasting thyself in

tears?

Woman, untimely are thy tears; 't is late,

'T is vain, and it may cost us dear!

Cly. Thou here?

But how-woe's me, what did I promise thee!

What wicked counsel-

Aeg. Was it not thy counsel?

Love gave it thee and fear annuls it-well!

Since thou repentest, I am glad; and glad

To know thee guiltless shall I be in death.

I told thee that the enterprise was hard,

But thou, unduly trusting in the heart,

That hath not a man's courage in it, chose

Thyself thy feeble hands to strike the blow.

Now may Heaven grant that the intent of evil

Turn not to harm thee! Hither I by stealth

And favor of the darkness have returned

Unseen, I hope. For I perforce must come

Myself to tell thee that irrevocably

My life is dedicated to the vengeance

Of Agamemnon.

He appeals to her pity for him, and her fear for herself; he reminds her of Agamemnon's consent to the sacrifice of Iphigenia, and goads her on to the crime from which she had recoiled. She goes into Agamemnon's chamber, whence his dying outcries are heard:-

O treachery!

Thou, wife? O headens, I die! O treachery!

Clytemnestra comes out with the dagger in her hand:

The dagger drips with blood; my hands, my robe,

My face-they all are wet with blood. What vengeance

Shall yet be taken for this blood? Already

I see this very steel turned on my breast,

And by whose hand!

The son whom she forebodes as the avenger of Agamemnon's death passes his childhood and early youth at the court of Strophius in Phocis. The tragedy named for him opens with Electra's soliloquy as she goes to weep at the tomb of their father:-

Night, gloomy, horrible, atrocious night,

Forever present to my thought! each year

For now two lusters I have seen thee come,

Clothed on with darkness and with dreams of blood,

And blood that should have expiated thine

Is not yet spilt! O memory, O sight!

Upon these stones I saw thee murdered lie,

Murdered, and by whose hand!...

I swear to thee,

If I in Argos, in thy palace live,

Slave of Aegisthus, with my wicked mother,

Nothing makes me endure a life like this

Saving the hope of vengeance. Far away

Orestes is; but living! I saved thee, brother;

I keep myself for thee, till the day rise

When thou shalt make to stream upon yon tomb

Not helpless tears like these, but our foe's blood.

While Electra fiercely muses, Clytemnestra enters, with the appeal:

Cly. Daughter!

El. What voice! Oh Heaven, thou here?

Cly. My daughter,

Ah, do not fly me! Thy pious task I fain

Would share with thee. Aegisthus in vain forbids,

He shall not know. Ah, come! go we together

Unto the tomb.

El. Whose tomb?

Cly. Thy-hapless-father's.

El. Wherefore not say thy husband's tomb? 'T is well:

Thou darest not speak it. But how dost thou dare

Turn thitherward thy steps-thou that dost reek

Yet with his blood?

Cly. Two lusters now are passed

Since that dread day, and two whole lusters now

I weep my crime.

El. And what time were enough

For that? Ah, if thy tears should be eternal,

They yet were nothing. Look! Seest thou not still

The blood upon these horrid walls the blood

That thou didst splash them with? And at thy presence

Lo, how it reddens and grows quick again!

Fly, thou, whom I must never more call mother!

* * * *

Cly. Oh, woe is me! What can I answer? Pity-

But I merit none!-And yet if in my heart,

Daughter, thou couldst but read-ah, who could look

Into the secret of a heart like mine,

Contaminated with such infamy,

And not abhor me? I blame not thy wrath,

No, nor thy hate. On earth I feel already

The guilty pangs of hell. Scarce had the blow

Escaped my hand before a swift remorse,

Swift but too late, fell terrible upon me.

From that hour still the sanguinary ghost

By day and night, and ever horrible,

Hath moved before mine eyes. Whene'er I turn

I see its bleeding footsteps trace the path

That I must follow; at table, on the throne,

It sits beside me; on my bitter pillow

If e'er it chance I close mine eyes in sleep,

The specter-fatal vision!-instantly

Shows itself in my dreams, and tears the breast,

Already mangled, with a furious hand,

And thence draws both its palms full of dark blood,

To dash it in my face! On dreadful nights

Follow more dreadful days. In a long death

I live my life. Daughter,-whate'er I am,

Thou art my daughter still,-dost thou not weep

At tears like mine?

Clytemnestra confesses that Aegisthus no longer loves her, but she loves him, and she shrinks from Electra's fierce counsel that she shall kill him. He enters to find her in tears, and a violent scene between him and Electra follows, in which Clytemnestra interposes.

Cly. O daughter, he is my husband. Think, Aegisthus,

She is my daughter.

Aeg. She is Atrides' daughter!

El. He is Atrides' murderer!

Cly. Electra!

Have pity, Aegisthus! Look-the tomb! Oh, look,

The horrible tomb!-and art thou not content?

Aeg. Woman, be less unlike thyself. Atrides,-

Tell me by whose hand in yon tomb he lies?

Cly. O mortal blame! What else is lacking now

To my unhappy, miserable life?

Who drove me to it now upbraids my crime!

El. O marvelous joy! O only joy that's blessed

My heart in these ten years! I see you both

At last the prey of anger and remorse;

I hear at last what must the endearments be

Of love so blood-stained.

The first act closes with a scene between Aegisthus and Clytemnestra, in which he urges her to consent that he shall send to have Orestes murdered, and reminds her of her former crimes when she revolts from this. The scene is very well managed, with that sparing phrase which in Alfieri is quite as apt to be touchingly simple as bare and poor. In the opening scene of the second act, Orestes has returned in disguise to Argos with Pylades the son of Strophius, to whom he speaks:

We are come at last. Here Agamemnon fell,

Murdered, and here Aegisthus reigns. Here rose

In memory still, though I a child departed,

These natal walls, and the just Heaven in time

Leads me back hither.

Twice five years have passed

This very day since that dread night of blood,

When, slain by treachery, my father made

The whole wide palace with his dolorous cries

Echo again. Oh, well do I remember!

Electra swiftly bore me through this hall

Thither where Strophius in his pitying arms

Received me-Strophius, less by far thy father

Than mine, thereafter-and fled onward with me

By yonder postern-gate, all tremulous;

And after me there ran upon the air

Long a wild clamor and a lamentation

That made me weep and shudder and lament,

I knew not why, and weeping Strophius ran,

Preventing with his hand my outcries shrill,

Clasping me close, and sprinkling all my face

With bitter tears; and to the lonely coast,

Where only now we landed, with his charge

He came apace; and eagerly unfurled

His sails before the wind.

Pylades strives to restrain the passion for revenge in Orestes, which imperils them both. The friend proposes that they shall feign themselves messengers sent by Strophius with tidings of Orestes' death, and Orestes has reluctantly consented, when Electra re-appears, and they recognize each other. Pylades discloses their plan, and when her brother urges, "The means is vile," she answers, all woman,-

Less vile than is Aegisthus. There is none

Better or surer, none, believe me. When

You are led to him, let it be mine to think

Of all-the place, the manner, time, and arms,

To kill him. Still I keep, Orestes, still

I keep the steel that in her husband's breast

She plunged whom nevermore we might call mother.

Orestes. How fares it with that impious woman?

Electra. Ah,

Thou canst not know how she drags out her life!

Save only Agamemnon's children, all

Must pity her-and even we must pity.

Full ever of suspicion and of terror,

And held in scorn even by Aegisthus' self,

Loving Aegisthus though she know his guilt;

Repentant, and yet ready to renew

Her crime, perchance, if the unworthy love

Which is her shame and her abhorrence, would;

Now wife, now mother, never wife nor mother,

Bitter remorse gnaws at her heart by day

Unceasingly, and horrible shapes by night

Scare slumber from her eyes.-So fares it with her.

In the third scene of the following act Clytemnestra meets Orestes and Pylades, who announce themselves as messengers from Phocis to the king; she bids them deliver their tidings to her, and they finally do so, Pylades struggling to prevent Orestes from revealing himself. There are touchingly simple and natural passages in the lament that Clytemnestra breaks into over her son's death, and there is fire, with its true natural extinction in tears, when she upbraids Aegisthus, who now enters:

My only son beloved, I gave thee all.

* * *

All that I gave thou did'st account as nothing

While aught remained to take. Who ever saw

At once so cruel and so false a heart?

The guilty love that thou did'st feign so ill

And I believed so well, what hindrance to it,

What hindrance, tell me, was the child Orestes?

Yet scarce had Agamemnon died before

Thou did'st cry out for his son's blood; and searched

Through all the palace in thy fury. Then

The blade thou durst not wield against the father,

Then thou didst brandish! Ay, bold wast thou then

Against a helpless child!...

Unhappy son, what booted it to save thee

From thy sire's murderer, since thou hast found

Death ere thy time in strange lands far away?

Aegisthus, villainous usurper! Thou,

Thou hast slain my son! Aegisthus-Oh forgive!

I was a mother, and am so no more.

Throughout this scene, and in the soliloquy preceding it, Alfieri paints very forcibly the struggle in Clytemnestra between her love for her son and her love for Aegisthus, to whom she clings even while he exults in the tidings that wring her heart. It is all too baldly presented, doubtless, but it is very effective and affecting.

Orestes and Pylades are now brought before Aegisthus, and he demands how and where Orestes died, for after his first rejoicing he has come to doubt the fact. Pylades responds in one of those speeches with which Alfieri seems to carve the scene in bas-relief:

Every fifth year an ancient use renews

In Crete the games and offerings unto Jove.

The love of glory and innate ambition

Lure to that coast the youth; and by his side

Goes Pylades, inseparable from him.

In the light car upon the arena wide,

The hopes of triumph urge him to contest

The proud palm of the flying-footed steeds,

And, too intent on winning, there his life

He gives for victory.

Aeg. But how? Say on.

Pyl. Too fierce, impatient, and incautious, he

Now frights his horses on with threatening cries,

Now whirls his blood-stained whip, and lashes them,

Till past the goal the ill-tamed coursers fly

Faster and faster. Reckless of the rein,

Deaf to the voice that fain would soothe them now,

Their nostrils breathing fire, their loose manes tossed

Upon the wind, and in thick clouds involved

Of choking dust, round the vast circle's bound,

As lightning swift they whirl and whirl again.

Fright, horror, mad confusion, death, the car

Spreads in its crooked circles everywhere,

Until at last, the smoking axle dashed

With horrible shock against a marble pillar,

Orestes headlong falls-

Cly. No more! Ah, peace!

His mother hears thee.

Pyl. It is true. Forgive me.

I will not tell how, horribly dragged on,

His streaming life-blood soaked the arena's dust-

Pylades ran-in vain-within his arms

His friend expired.

Cly. O wicked death!

Pyl. In Crete

All men lamented him, so potent in him

Were beauty, grace, and daring.

Cly. Nay, who would not

Lament him save this wretch alone? Dear son,

Must I then never, never see thee more?

O me! too well I see thee crossing now

The Stygian stream to clasp thy father's shade:

Both turn your frowning eyes askance on me,

Burning with dreadful wrath! Yea, it was I,

'T was I that slew you both. Infamous mother

And guilty wife!-Now art content, Aegisthus?

Aegisthus still doubts, and pursues the pretended messengers with such insulting question that Orestes, goaded beyond endurance, betrays that their character is assumed. They are seized and about to be led to prison in chains, when Electra enters and in her anguish at the sight exclaims, "Orestes led to die!" Then ensues a heroic scene, in which each of the friends claims to be Orestes. At last Orestes shows the dagger Electra has given him, and offers it to Clytemnestra, that she may stab Aegisthus with the same weapon with which she killed Agamemnon:

Whom then I would call mother. Take it; thou know'st how

To wield it; plunge it in Aegisthus' heart!

Leave me to die; I care not, if I see

My father avenged. I ask no other proof

Of thy maternal love from thee. Quick, now,

Strike! Oh, what is it that I see? Thou tremblest?

Thou growest pale? Thou weepest? From thy hand

The dagger falls? Thou lov'st Aegisthus, lov'st him

And art Orestes' mother? Madness! Go

And never let me look on thee again!

Aegisthus dooms Electra to the same death with Orestes and Pylades, but on the way to prison the guards liberate them all, and the Argives rise against the usurper with the beginning of the fifth act, which I shall give entire, because I think it very characteristic of Alfieri, and necessary to a conception of his vehement, if somewhat arid, genius. I translate as heretofore almost line for line, and word for word, keeping the Italian order as nearly as I can.

SCENE I.

AEGISTHUS and Soldiers.

Aeg. O treachery unforseen! O madness! Freed,

Orestes freed? Now we shall see....

Enter CLYTEMNESTRA.

Cly. Ah! turn

Backward thy steps.

Aeg. Ah, wretch, dost thou arm too

Against me?

Cly. I would save thee. Hearken to me,

I am no longer-

Aeg. Traitress-

Cly. Stay!

Aeg. Thou 'st promised

Haply to give me to that wretch alive?

Cly. To keep thee, save thee from him, I have sworn,

Though I should perish for thee! Ah, remain

And hide thee here in safety. I will be

Thy stay against his fury-

Aeg. Against his fury

My sword shall be my stay. Go, leave me!

I go-

Cly. Whither?

Aeg. To kill him!

Cly. To thy death thou goest!

O me! What dost thou? Hark! Dost thou not hear

The yells and threats of the whole people? Hold!

I will not leave thee.

Aeg. Nay, thou hop'st in vain

To save thy impious son from death. Hence! Peace!

Or I will else-

Cly. Oh, yes, Aegisthus, kill me,

If thou believest me not. "Orestes!" Hark!

"Orestes!" How that terrible name on high

Rings everywhere! I am no longer mother

When thou 'rt in danger. Against my blood I grow

Cruel once more.

Aeg. Thou knowest well the Argives

Do hate thy face, and at the sight of thee

The fury were redoubled in their hearts.

The tumult rises. Ah, thou wicked wretch,

Thou wast the cause! For thee did I delay

Vengeance that turns on me now.

Cly. Kill me, then!

Aeg. I'll find escape some other way.

Cly. I follow-

Aeg. Ill shield wert thou for me. Leave me-away, away!

At no price would I have thee by my side! {Exit.

Cly. All hunt me from them! O most hapless state!

My son no longer owns me for his mother,

My husband for his wife: and wife and mother

I still must be! O misery! Afar

I'll follow him, nor lose the way he went.

Enter ELECTRA.

El. Mother, where goest thou! Turn thy steps again

Into the palace. Danger-

Cly. Orestes-speak!

Where is he now? What does he do?

El. Orestes,

Pylades, and myself, we are all safe.

Even Aegisthus' minions pitied us.

They cried, "This is Orestes!" and the people,

"Long live Orestes! Let Aegisthus die!"

Cly. What do I hear?

El. Calm thyself, mother; soon

Thou shalt behold thy son again, and soon

Th' infamous tyrant's corse-

Cly. Ah, cruel, leave me!

I go-

El. No, stay! The people rage, and cry

Out on thee for a parricidal wife.

Show thyself not as yet, or thou incurrest

Great peril. 'T was for this I came. In thee

A mother's agony appeared, to see

Thy children dragged to death, and thou hast now

Atoned for thy misdeed. My brother sends me

To comfort thee, to succor and to hide thee

From dreadful sights. To find Aegisthus out,

All armed meanwhile, he and his Pylades

Search everywhere. Where is the wicked wretch?

Cly. Orestes is the wicked wretch!

El. O Heaven!

Cly. I go to save him or to perish with him.

El. Nay, mother, thou shalt never go. Thou ravest-

Cly. The penalty is mine. I go-

El. O mother!

The monster that but now thy children doomed

To death, wouldst thou-

Cly. Yes, I would save him-I!

Out of my path! My terrible destiny

I must obey. He is my husband. All

Too dear he cost me. I will not, can not lose him.

You I abhor, traitors, not children to me!

I go to him. Loose me, thou wicked girl!

At any risk I go, and may I only

Reach him in time! {Exit.

El. Go to thy fate, then, go,

If thou wilt so, but be thy steps too late!

Why can not I, too, arm me with a dagger,

To pierce with stabs a thousand-fold the breast

Of infamous Aegisthus! O blind mother, oh,

How art thou fettered to his baseness! Yet,

And yet, I tremble-If the angry mob

Avenge their murdered king on her-O Heaven!

Let me go after her-But who comes here?

Pylades, and my brother not beside him?

Enter PYLADES.

Oh, tell me! Orestes-?

Pyl. Compasses the palace

About with swords. And now our prey is safe.

Where lurks Aegisthus! Hast thou seen him?

El. Nay,

I saw and strove in vain a moment since

To stay his maddened wife. She flung herself

Out of this door, crying that she would make

Herself a shield unto Aegisthus. He

Already had fled the palace.

Pyl. Durst he then

Show himself in the sight of Argos? Why,

Then he is slain ere this! Happy the man

That struck him first. Nearer and louder yet

I hear their yells.

El. "Orestes!" Ah, were't so!

Pyl. Look at him in his fury where he comes!

Enter ORESTES and his followers.

Or. No man of you attempt to slay Aegisthus:

There is no wounding sword here save my own.

Aegisthus, ho! Where art thou, coward! Speak!

Aegisthus, where art thou? Come forth: it is

The voice of Death that calls thee! Thou comest not?

Ah, villain, dost thou hide thyself? In vain:

The midmost deep of Erebus should not hide thee!

Thou shalt soon see if I be Atrides' son.

El. He is not here; he-

Or. Traitors! You perchance

Have slain him without me?

Pyl. Before I came

He had fled the palace.

Or. In the palace still

Somewhere he lurks; but I will drag him forth;

By his soft locks I'll drag him with my hand:

There is no prayer, nor god, nor force of hell

Shall snatch thee from me. I will make thee plow

The dust with thy vile body to the tomb

Of Agamemnon,-I will drag thee thither

And pour out there all thine adulterous blood.

El. Orestes, dost thou not believe me?-me!

Or. Who'rt thou? I want Aegisthus.

El. He is fled.

Or. He's fled, and you, ye wretches, linger here?

But I will find him.

Enter CLYTEMNESTRA.

Cly. Oh, have pity, son!

Or. Pity? Whose son am I? Atrides' son

Am I.

Cly. Aegisthus, loaded with chains-

Or. He lives yet?

O joy! Let me go slay him!

Cly. Nay, kill me!

I slew thy father-I alone. Aegisthus

Had no guilt in it.

Or. Who, who grips my arm!

Who holds me back? O Madness! Ah Aegisthus!

I see him; they drag him hither-Off with thee!

Cly. Orestes, dost thou not know thy mother?

Or. Die,

Aegisthus! By Orestes' hand, die, villain! {Exit.

Cly. Ah, thou'st escaped me! Thou shalt slay me

first! {Exit.

El. Pylades, go! Run, run! Oh, stay her! fly;

Bring her back hither! {Exit PYLADES.

I shudder! She is still

His mother, and he must have pity on her.

Yet only now she saw her children stand

Upon the brink of an ignoble death;

And was her sorrow and her daring then

As great as they are now for him? At last

The day so long desired has come; at last,

Tyrant, thou diest; and once more I hear

The palace all resound with wails and cries,

As on that horrible and bloody night,

Which was my father's last, I heard it ring.

Already hath Orestes struck the blow,

The mighty blow; already is Aegisthus

Fallen-the tumult of the crowd proclaims it.

Behold Orestes conqueror, his sword

Dripping with blood!

Enter ORESTES.

O brother mine, come,

Avenger of the king of kings, our father,

Argos, and me, come to my heart!

Or. Sister,

At last thou seest me Atrides' worthy son.

Look,'t is Aegisthus' blood! I hardly saw him

And ran to slay him where he stood, forgetting

To drag him to our father's sepulcher.

Full twice seven times I plunged and plunged my sword

Into his cowardly and quaking heart;

Yet have I slaked not my long thirst of vengeance!

El. Then Clytemnestra did not come in time

To stay thine arm?

Or. And who had been enough

For that? To stay my arm? I hurled myself

Upon him; not more swift the thunderbolt.

The coward wept, and those vile tears the more

Filled me with hate. A man that durst not die

Slew thee, my father!

El. Now is our sire avenged!

Calm thyself now, and tell me, did thine eyes

Behold not Pylades?

Or. I saw Aegisthus;

None other. Where is dear Pylades? And why

Did he not second me in this glorious deed?

El. I had confided to his care our mad

And desperate mother.

Or. I knew nothing of them.

Enter PYLADES.

El. See, Pylades returns-O heavens, what do I see?

Returns alone?

Or. And sad? Oh wherefore sad,

Part of myself, art thou? Know'st not I've slain

Yon villain? Look, how with his life-blood yet

My sword is dripping! Ah, thou did'st not share

His death-blow with me! Feed then on this sight

Thine eyes, my Pylades!

Pyl. O sight! Orestes,

Give me that sword.

Or. And wherefore?

Pyl. Give it me.

Or. Take it.

Pyl. Oh listen! We may not tarry longer

Within these borders; come-

Or. But what-

El. Oh speak!

Where's Clytemnestra?

Or. Leave her; she is perchance

Kindling the pyre unto her traitor husband.

Pyl. Oh, thou hast far more than fulfilled thy vengeance.

Come, now, and ask no more.

Or. What dost thou say?

El. Our mother! I beseech thee yet again!

Pylades-Oh what chill is this that creeps

Through all my veins?

Pyl. The heavens-

El. Ah, she is dead!

Or. Hath turned her dagger, maddened, on herself?

El. Alas, Pylades! Why dost thou not answer?

Or.. Speak! What hath been?

Pyl. Slain-

Or. And by whose hand?

Pyl. Come!

El. (To ORESTES.) Thou slewest her!

Or. I parricide?

Pyl. Unknowing

Thou plungèdst in her heart thy sword, as blind

With rage thou rannest on Aegisthus-

Or. Oh,

What horror seizes me! I parricide?

My sword! Pylades, give it me; I'll have it-

Pyl. It shall not be.

El. Brother-

Or. Who calls me brother?

Thou, haply, impious wretch, thou that didst save me

To life and matricide? Give me my sword!

My sword! O fury! Where am I? What is it

That I have done? Who stays me? Who follows me?

Ah, whither shall I fly, where hide myself?-

O father, dost thou look on me askance?

Thou wouldst have blood of me, and this is blood;

For thee alone-for thee alone I shed it!

El. Orestes, Orestes-miserable brother!

He hears us not! ah, he is mad! Forever,

Pylades, we must go beside him.

Pyl. Hard,

Inevitable law of ruthless Fate!