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PEDAGOGUS [to Clytaemnestra]: Greetings to you, my lady. I come here from a friend of yours with happy news for you and lord Aegisthus. CLYTAEMNESTRA: Greetings, stranger. I will hear your news. But first I need to know the one who sent you. PEDAGOGUS: Phanoteus from Phocis asked me to bring you an important message. CLYTAEMNESTRA: What message, stranger? Since it鈥檚 from a friend, I鈥檓 sure you will be bearing pleasant news. PEDAGOGUS: My message is brief: Orestes has been killed. ELECTRA: O no! No! For me that means disaster! I鈥檓 ruined! Today my life is over! CLYTAEMNESTRA: What was that? What did you say, stranger? Don鈥檛 listen to her! PEDAGOGUS: What I just said and now repeat is this鈥擮restes has been killed. ELECTRA: This is the end for me! I am no more! CLYTAEMNESTRA [to Electra]: That鈥檚 enough! Keep your feelings to yourself! Stranger, I would like to know the truth鈥� tell me exactly how Orestes died. PEDAGOGUS: I was sent to tell you what took place, and I will give you the entire story. Orestes traveled to that famous shrine at Delphi, whose glory all Greeks share, to compete for prizes at the games held there. One day soon afterwards at sunrise, Orestes took part in a chariot race, with many others鈥攐ne was from Achaea, one from Sparta, and two from Libya, both very skilled at racing chariots. A trumpet blared, and they raced off, shouting at their horses and brandishing the reins. The entire track was filled with the din of clattering chariots, stirring up the dust. Each time Orestes swung past the turning post he let the trace horse on the right run wide and kept the reins taut on the left-hand side. He came so close he almost grazed his wheels. So far the chariots had all been running well, but then the Aenian鈥檚 hard-mouthed horses lost control and bolted, as they were ending their sixth lap and starting on the seventh, smashing headlong into a Libyian chariot. The pile up caused a number of collisions, as racing teams crashed into one another and broke apart. The racing course at Crisa was full of shattered chariots. Seeing this, the man from Athens, a skilful driver, pulled aside, reining in his horses, to let the mass of chariots behind him rush past and crash into the wreckage. Orestes was holding back his horses, counting on a fast sprint at the finish. But when he noticed the Athenian was the only chariot left in the race, he raised a cry that pierced his horses鈥� ears and set out after him. They drew level. So far poor Orestes had kept his poise, standing balanced in the upright chariot, and moving safely past the turning posts. But then, as his team made the final turn, quite inadvertently he slackened off the left-hand rein and struck the pillar, breaking his axle box. He pitched forward, across the rail, and got tangled in the reins. As he fell down, his team of horses panicked, bolting all around the middle of the track. He was dragged along the ground and tossed into the air feet first, until the charioteers with difficulty rounded up his horses and cut him loose, covered in so much blood that even a friend would not have recognized his mangled corpse. The words are sad enough, but for those of us who saw it, it was the greatest of all sorrows, the most painful sight that we have ever seen. CLYTAEMNESTRA: O Zeus, should I consider this good news or horrible but of benefit to me? It鈥檚 a bitter feeling鈥擨 am so miserable and yet what makes me grieve has saved my life. PEDAGOGUS: My lady, why has my speech made you sad? CLYTAEMNESTRA:Motherhood has a mysterious power. No matter how much he may make her suffer, a woman can never hate the child she bears. PEDAGOGUS: Then it seems my journey has been futile.

CLYTAEMNESTRA: No, no鈥攜our trip has not been futile. How can you say that when you have come bringing me sure proof that he is dead? His got his life from me, and yet he fled-- abandoning the breast that nurtured him and the one who raised him. He became totally estranged from me, an exile. Once he left Mycenae, he never saw me. He accused me of his father鈥檚 murder and often threatened he would take revenge. At night sweet sleep could never close my eyes, or in the day鈥攅ach moment made me feel as if I was about to die. But today, my fear of him is gone鈥攁nd of that girl, who causes me more grief than he does. She lives with me and drinks my lifeblood neat. But now, I think, in spite of all her threats, I鈥檒l spend my days in peace and comfort. ELECTRA: Alas for me and the agony I feel! Now I must mourn your death, Orestes, for even though you鈥檙e dead, this woman, your mother, still insults you. Is that right? CLYTAEMNESTRA: Not for you鈥� but Orestes is just fine the way he is. ELECTRA: O Nemesis, goddess of retribution for those who have just died, listen to her! CLYTAEMNESTRA: She has heard the prayers she ought to hear and made the right decision. ELECTRA: So then insult us! This is your lucky day. CLYTAEMNESTRA: You will not stop me now鈥攜ou and Orestes. ELECTRA: No, we are finished. There鈥檚 no way that we can stop you. CLYTAEMNESTRA: Well, stranger, you deserve a fine reward, if your trip here has brought her noisy chatter to an end. PEDAGOGUS: I鈥檒l be on my way, then, if all is well. CLYTAEMNESTRA: No, no, not yet. That would be unworthy of me and of the friend who sent you. Do come inside鈥攚e鈥檒l leave the girl out here to howl about the troubles she has had and what the ones she loves have suffered.

Citation: Sophocles translated by Ian Johnston, Electra, Public domain.

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