Aeschylus
The Eumenides
[The Kindly Ones]
458 BC
[This translation, which has been prepared
by Ian Johnston of Malaspina University-College,
Nanaimo, BC, Canada, is in the public
domain
and may be used by anyone, in whole
or in
part, for any purpose, without permission
and without charge, provided the source
is
acknowledged. Last revised May 2003]
[For a short introductory lecture on the
Agamemnon and the Oresteia click here. For a summary of the legend of the House
of Atreus, the immediate mythological
background
to the play, click here. For links to the Agamemnon and the
Libation Bearers click on Oresteia page ]
For information about purchasing printed
copies of this text please consult
Prideaux Street Publishing
[Note that in the following text the numbers
in square brackets refer to the Greek
text]
Dramatis Personae
Priestess: prophetic priestess (the Pythia)
of Apollo at Delphi
Apollo: divine son of Zeus, god of
prophecy
Orestes: son of Agamemnon and Clytaemnestra,
brother of Electra
Clytaemnestra: mother of Orestes, appearing
as a ghost after her murder
Chorus: Furies, goddesses of blood
revenge
Athena: divine daughter of Zeus who
was born
fully grown from his head (without
a mother)
Athenian citizens
Scene: The play opens just in front of the
temple of Apollo at Delphi
[Enter the Pythia, the Priestess of Apollo]
PRIESTESS
In my
prayer,
I hold Earth in highest honour,
as the
first
of prophets among all gods.
Then,
after
her came Themis. That goddess,
so the
legend
goes, followed her mother
at this
seat
of prophecy. Third in line,
another
Titan,
Phoebe, child of Earth,
was
then assigned
to occupy this throne.
There
was
no force—Themis approved the change.
Phoebe then gave it as a birthday gift
to the god who takes his name from her,
10
Phoebus
Apollo.
He left the island Delos,
moving
from
his lake and ridge to Pallas,
[10]
to those
shores
where ships sail in to trade.
Then
he came
to live on Mount Parnassus.
A reverential
escort came with him—
children of the fire god, Hephaestus,
highway
builders
who tame the wilderness
and
civilize
the land. As he marched here,
people
came
out in droves to worship him,
including
their king and helmsman, Delphus.
20
Then
Zeus
inspired in him prophetic skills,
and
set him
on this throne as fourth in line.
Here
Apollo
speaks for Zeus, his father.
My prayers
begin with preludes to these gods.
[20]
My words also
give special prominence
to the
goddess
who stands outside the shrine,
Pallas
Athena.
I revere those nymphs
inhabiting
Corycia's rocky caves,
where
flocks
of birds delight to congregate,
where
holy
spirits roam. I don't forget
30
how Dionysus,
ruler of this land,
divine
commander
of those Bacchic women,
ripped
Pentheus
apart, as if he were
a cornered
rabbit. I also call upon
the
streams
of Pleistus and Poseidon's power,
and
Zeus most
high, who fulfills all things.
I'll
take
my seat now on the prophet's throne.
May
I be fortunate,
above the rest,
[30]
to see far
more than previous attempts.
If any
Greeks
are in attendance here,
40
let them draw
lots and enter, each in turn,
as is
our
custom. I will prophesy,
following
directions from the god.
[The Priestess enters the temple, only to
return immediately, very agitated.
She collapses
onto her hands and knees]
It's horrible!
Too
horrible
to say . . . awful to see.
It drives
me back . . . out of Apollo's shrine.
My strength
is gone . . . I can't stand up.
I have
to
crawl on hands and knees—my legs
just buckle under me . . . An old woman
overcome with fear is nothing, a child.
No more . . .
[The Priestess gathers herself together and
stands with great difficulty, holding
onto
the temple doors for support]
As I was entering the inner shrine—
50
the part covered
up with wreaths—I saw him,
[40]
right on the
central navel stone, a man
the
gods despise,
sitting there, in the seat
reserved
for
suppliants, hands dripping blood.
He'd
drawn
his sword, but held an olive branch.
It had
a tuft
of wool on top, a mark
of reverence—a
large one, really white.
I saw all that distinctly. But then I saw
in front of him something astonishing,
on the benches groups of women sleeping—
60
well,
they
weren't exactly women,
I'd
say more
like Gorgons—then again,
not much like Gorgons either. Years ago
I once saw a picture of some monsters
snatching a feast away from Phineas.
[50]
But the ones
inside here have no wings—
I checked. They're black and totally repulsive,
with
loud
rasping snorts that terrify me.
Disgusting
pus comes oozing from their eyes.
As for
their
clothing—quite inappropriate
70
to wear before
the statues of the gods,
or even
in
men's homes. I've never seen
a tribe
which
could produce this company,
a country
which would admit with pride
that
it had
raised them without paying a price,
without
regretting
all the pain they cost.
Where
does
this end? That is Apollo's work.
[60]
Let that be
his concern. His force is strong—
what he reveals has healing power.
He reads
the
omens and can purify
80
the
home,
his own and other men's.
[The scene changes to reveal the inside of
the temple, with Orestes clutching
the central
stone (the navel stone) and the Furies
asleep
in front of him. Apollo enters from
the back
of the temple (the inner shrine). Apollo
moves to stand near Orestes]
APOLLO
I'll
not leave
you—no, I'll stand beside you,
your protector till the end. Close at hand
or far away, I'll show no gentleness
towards your enemies. Right now you see
these frenzied creatures overcome with sleep,
just lying there, these loathsome maidens,
ancient children, hags. No god or man
[70]
or animal
has intercourse with them.
They're
born
for evil. That's why they live
90
within the
blackest gloom of Tartarus,
under
the
earth. Olympian gods and men
despise
them.
But you should still keep going.
Do not
give
up. They'll chase you everywhere,
as you
move
along well-traveled ground,
across
wide
continents, beyond the seas,
through
cities
with the ocean all around.
Don't
grow
weary brooding on your pain.
And
then,
once you reach Athena's city,
sit
down,
and wrap your arms around her,
100 [80]
embrace her
image. With people there
to judge
your
cause and with the force of speech,
the
spell-binding
power in words, we'll find
a way
to free
you from misfortune.
For
I was
the one who urged you on
to kill
your
mother.
ORESTES
My lord Apollo,
you
have no
knowledge how to be unjust.
That
being
the case, now learn compassion, too.
Your
power
to do good is strong enough.
APOLLO
Remember
this—don't
let fear defeat you
110
by conquering
your spirit. And you, Hermes,
[90]
my own blood
brother from a common father,
protect
this
man. Live up to that name of yours,
and
be his
guide. Since he's my suppliant,
lead
him as
if you were his shepherd—
remember Zeus respects an outcast's rights—
with you to show the way, he'll get better,
and
quickly
come among men once again.
[Exit Orestes. Apollo moves back into the
inner sanctuary. Enter the Ghost of
Clytaemnestra]
GHOST OF CLYTAEMNESTRA [addressing the sleeping chorus]
Ah, you may be fast asleep, but now
what use is sleeping? On account of you,
120
I alone among the dead lack honour.
The ghosts of those I killed revile me—
they never stop. I wander in disgrace.
They charge me with the most horrific crimes.
But I, too, suffered cruelty from those
[100]
most dear to me. And yet, although I died
at the hands of one who killed his mother,
no spirit is enraged on my behalf.
Look here—you see these slashes on my heart?
How did they get there? While it's asleep
130
the mind can see, but in the light of day
we have no vision of men's destiny.
You've licked up many of my offerings,
soothing milk and honey without wine.
I've given many sacrificial gifts
with fire in my hearth at solemn banquets,
in that night hour no god will ever share.
I see all that being trampled underfoot.
[110]
He's gone, eluded you—just like a fawn,
he's jumped the centre of your nets with
ease.
140
He mocks your efforts as he moves away.
Listen to me. I'm speaking of my soul.
So rouse yourselves! Wake up, you goddesses
from underground. While you dream on I call—
now Clytaemnestra summons you!
[The members of the Chorus begin to make
strange sounds and to mutter in their
sleep]
You may well moan—the man's escaped. He's
gone.
[120]
He's flown a long way off. The friends he
has
are stronger than my own. You sleep on there
so heavily, no sense of my distress.
Orestes, the man who killed his mother,
150
has run off! You mutter, but keep sleeping.
On your feet!. Why won't you get up? What
work
has fate assigned you if not causing pain?
Sleep and hard work, two apt confederates,
have made these fearsome dragons impotent,
draining all their rage.
CHORUS MEMBER [muttering in her sleep]
Seize him!
Seize him! Seize him! Seize that man! Look
out!
[130]
GHOST OF CLYTAEMNESTRA
You hunt your prey, but only in your dreams,
whimpering like hounds who never lose
their keenness for the hunt. But you don't
act!
160
Get up! Don't let exhaustion beat you down.
Sleep makes you soft—you overlook my pain.
Let my reproaches justly prick your hearts,
a spur for those who act with righteousness.
Blow your blood-filled breath all over him.
Let those fires in your bodies shrivel him.
Go on! Drive him to a fresh pursuit. Go!
[The Furies begin to wake up slowly, one
after the other. As they start to get
up,
the Ghost of Clytaemnestra exits]
CHORUS LEADER [waking up and rousing the other Furies]
Wake up! Come on, I'll wake you up.
[140]
Now do the same for her. Still sleeping?
Stand up. Wipe that sleep out of your eyes.
170
Let's chant our prelude—that should take
effect.
[The Furies, now awake, gather as a group,
moving around trying to find Orestes
or smell
his track. They speak these lines as
individual
members of the larger group]
-Ah ha, what this? Dear sisters, something's
wrong.
-I've been through a lot, and all for nothing.
-We're being made to suffer something bad,
alas, an evil we cannot endure.
-Our quarry's slipped our nets. He's gone!
Once sleep came over us, we lost our prey.
-You're disgraceful, Hermes, a child of Zeus
who loves to steal.
-For a god you're young—
[150]
but still you trample on more ancient spirits.
180
-You showed that suppliant respect,
a godless man, so vicious to his parent.
-You may be a god, but you're a thief.
You filched a man who killed his mother.
-Who can say there's justice in such theft?
-In my dreams shame struck—
it came on like a charioteer
who gripped his cruel whip so tight,
then hit under my heart,
deep in my gut.
190
-I feel the executioner's scourge,
[160]
the one who wields a heavy lash,
weighed down with pain.
-Younger gods are doing this—
they push their ruling power
beyond what's theirs by right.
Their throne drips blood
around its foot,
around its head.
-I see Earth's central navel stone
200
defiled with blood, corrupted,
stained with guilt.
-The prophet soils the hearth,
pollutes the shrine himself,
[170]
acting on his own behalf.
against divine tradition,
he honours human things.
-He sets aside decrees of fate
established long ago.
-Though he inflict his pain on me,
210
he'll never free that man.
Let him flee underground,
he'll find no liberty below.
-As he seeks to cleanse himself
he'll meet the next avenger—
a family member coming for his head.
[Enter Apollo from the inner part of the
shrine]
APOLLO
Get out! I'm ordering you to leave this house.
Move on! Out of my prophet's sanctuary!
[180]
Go now, or else you'll feel my arrows bite,
glittering winged snakes shot from a golden
string.
220
Then, your agonies will make you choke,
spit out black froth you suck from men,
and vomit up the clotted blood you've drunk
from murder. This shrine's no place for you.
No, you belong where heads are sliced away,
eyes gouged out—where justice equals slaughter—
where youthful men are ruined by castration,
where others suffer mutilation, stoning,
where men impaled on spikes below the spine
scream all the time. That's the feast you
love.
230 [190]
You hear me? And that's why gods detest you.
The way you look, your shape, says what you
are—
some blood-soaked lion's den might be your
home.
You must not infect those near this temple
with your pollution. So leave this place,
you flock without a shepherd, you herd
the gods despise.
CHORUS LEADER
Lord Apollo,
listen to what we say. It's our turn to speak.
You're no mere accomplice in this crime—
you did it all yourself. You bear the guilt.
240 [200]
APOLLO
What does that mean? Go on. Keep talking.
CHORUS LEADER
You told that stranger to kill his mother.
APOLLO
To avenge his father is what I said.
What's wrong with that?
CHORUS LEADER
Then you supported him.
You helped a man who'd just committed murder.
APOLLO
And I instructed him to come back here
to expiate his crime.
CHORUS LEADER
Then why insult us,
the ones who chased him here?
APOLLO
It's not right
for you to come inside my shrine.
CHORUS LEADER
We've been assigned to do this.
APOLLO
Assigned?
250
What's that? Proclaim your fine authority.
CHORUS LEADER
We chase out of their homes those criminals
[210]
who slaughter their own mothers.
APOLLO
What about a wife who kills her husband?
CHORUS LEADER
That's not blood murder in the family.
APOLLO
What?
What about Zeus and his queen Hera—
your actions bring disgrace on them.
You ignore the strongest bonds between them.
Your claim dishonours Aphrodite, too,
goddess of love, from whom all men derive
260
their greatest joys. With man and woman
a marriage sealed by fate is stronger
than any oath, and justice guards it.
Now, if one partner kills the other one,
and you're not interested in punishment,
[220]
if you feel no urge to act, then I say
the way you chase Orestes is unjust.
I don't see why in one case you're so harsh
when you don't really care about the other.
However, goddess Athena will take charge—
270
she'll organize a trial.
CHORUS LEADER
But that fugitive—
he'll never be free of me, never.
APOLLO
Then go after him. Bring yourself more trouble.
CHORUS LEADER
Don't try to curb my powers with your words.
APOLLO
Your powers? Those I wouldn't take,
not even as a gift.
CHORUS LEADER
Of course not.
You're already great, by all accounts—
right by Zeus' throne. But for my part,
since I'm called onward by a mother's blood,
[230]
I'll chase this man with justice of my own.
280
I scent the trail!
APOLLO
I'll help my suppliant
and bring him safely home. With gods and
men
the anger of a man who seeks redemption
will be dreadful, if, of my own free will,
I abandon him.
[Apollo exits into the inner shrine. The
scene now changes to Athens, just outside
the Temple of Athena. Orestes enters
and
move up to the large statue of Athena]
ORESTES
Queen
Athena,
I've come here on Apollo's orders.
I beg your kindness. Please let me enter,
a man accursed, an outcast. I don't seek
ritual purification—my hands are clean—
but my avenging zeal has lost its edge,
290
worn down, blunted by other people's homes,
by all well-beaten pathways known to men.
I've stayed true to what Apollo told me
at his oracle. Crossing land and sea,
[240]
I've reached this statue by your shrine at
last.
Here I take up my position, goddess.
I await the outcome of my trial.
[Enter the Furies, like hunting dogs, still
tracking Orestes by his scent. They
do not
see him at first]
CHORUS LEADER
Ah ha! Here we have that man's clear scent,
a silent witness, but firm evidence.
After him! Like hounds chasing a wounded
fawn, 300
we track him by the drops of blood he sheds.
Man-killing work—the effort wearies me.
My lungs are bursting. We've roamed everywhere,
exploring all the regions of the earth,
crossing seas in wingless flight, moving
on
[250]
faster than any ship, always in pursuit.
Now he's cornered here, cowering somewhere.
I smell human blood—I could laugh for joy!
Start looking for him! Seek him out again!
Check everywhere. Don't let him escape.
310
That man killed his mother—he must pay!
[The Chorus of Furies catch sight of Orestes
and crowd around him]
CHORUS [different individuals]
-He's over there! Claiming sanctuary,
at that statue of the eternal goddess,
embracing it. He must want a trial,
a judgment on his murderous violence.
[260]
-Impossible! A mother's blood, once shed,
soaks in the earth and can't come back again—
the flowing stream moves through the ground,
then disappears forever.
-No. You must pay me back.
I'll suck your blood.
320
Drinking your living bones sustains me—
I feed upon your pain.
-Though it wears me out, I'll drag you down,
still living, to the world below. And there
you'll pay for murdering your mother.
-You'll see there other human criminals
who've failed to honour gods and strangers,
[270]
who've abused the parents they should love.
They all receive the justice they deserve.
-Hades, mighty god of all the dead,
330
judges mortal men below the ground.
His perceptive mind records all things.
ORESTES
My misery
has been my teacher—
I know that
men are cleansed in many ways,
that
sometimes
it's appropriate to speak,
sometimes
to stay silent. And in this case
a wise
master
has ordered me to speak.
Blood
on my
hands is dormant now, fading—
[280]
polluting
stains from my mother's murder
have
been
washed away. When they were fresh,
340
Apollo
in
his temple cleansed my guilt—
slaughtering pigs to make me pure again.
It's
a long
story to describe for you,
right
from
the start, all the men I've seen,
ones
I've
stayed with, then left unharmed.
Time
destroys
all things which age with time.
Now,
with
full reverence and holy speech,
I invoke
Athena,
this country' s queen.
I beg
her
help. Let her appear unarmed.
She'll
win
true allies in me, my land,
350
[290]
the Argive
people. We'll trust her forever.
No matter
where she is—in Libya,
in some region by the springs of Triton,
her birthplace, with her covered feet at
rest
or on the move, assisting those she loves,
or whether, like some bold commander
in the Phelegraean plain, battle site
of gods and giants, she surveys the field—
I pray she'll come, for she's a goddess
and
hears
me, even though she's far away.
360
May she come
here. May she deliver me.
CHORUS LEADER
But
Apollo's
power will not save you—
nor will Athena's. You're slated to die
[300]
abandoned
and alone, without a sense
of heartfelt
joy, a bloodless criminal
sucked
dry
by demons, just a shade—no more.
[Orestes makes no answer]
What? You
ignore my words and won't reply,
you,
a victim
fattened up for me,
my consecrated
gift? You'll not perish
on any
altar—no,
I'll eat you alive.
370
[Orestes continues to remain silent]
All right
then, hear our song, a spell to chain
you.
CHORUS
Come,
let's
link our arms and dance—
Furies determined to display
our
fearful
art, to demonstrate
collective
power we possess
[310]
to guide all
mortals' lives.
We claim we
represent true justice.
Our
anger
never works against
a man
whose
hands are clean—
all his life he stays unharmed.
380
But those
men guilty of some crime,
as this
one
is, who hide away,
concealing
blood-stained hands—
we harass them as testament
to those
they've
murdered.
Blood
avengers,
always in pursuit,
we chase
them
to the end.
[320]
Hear me, Mother
Night,
mother
who
gave birth to me
so I
could
avenge
390
the living
and the dead.
Leto's
child,
Apollo,
dishonours
me—he tears
that man out of my hands,
the hare who cowers there,
who by rights must expiate
his mother's blood.
Let this frenzied song of ours
fall upon our victim's head,
our sacrifice—our frenzy
400
driving him
to madness—
obliterate his mind.
[330]
This is our
Furies' chant
It chains
up the soul,
destroys
its
harmony,
and
withers
mortal men.
Remorseless
Fate gave us this work
to carry
on
forever, a destiny
spun
out for
us alone,
to attach
ourselves to those
410
who,
overcome
with passion,
slaughter
blood relatives.
We chase
after
them until the end,
until
they
go beneath the ground.
In death
they
find small freedom.
[340]
Let this frenzied
song of ours
fall
upon
our victim's head,
our
sacrifice—our
frenzy
driving him to madness—
obliterate his mind.
420
This is our
Furies' chant.
It chains
up the soul,
destroys
its
harmony,
and
withers
mortal men.
These rights
are ours from birth—
even the immortal gods
[350]
may not lay
hands on us.
We share
no
feasts with them,
no fellowship—their
pure white robes
are no part of our destiny.
430
The task I take upon myself is mine,
to overthrow whole families,
when strife inside the home
kills someone near and dear.
We chase that murderer down,
the one who's spilled fresh blood.
For all his strength, we wear him down.
That's why
we're now here,
eager
to contest
the charge,
to challenge
other gods,
440 [360]
to make sure
none of them
ends
up controlling
what is ours.
There
will
be no trial—
for Zeus despises us,
considers
us unworthy,
refusing
to
converse with us
because
we
deal in blood.
The task I
take upon myself is mine,
to overthrow
whole families,
when
strife
inside the home
450
kills someone
near and dear.
We chase
that
murderer down,
the
one who's
spilled fresh blood.
For
all his
strength, we wear him down.
Those proud
opinions people have,
who
raise
themselves so high,
who
puff themselves
to heaven,
will
melt
away, dissolving
in dishonour
underground,
when
we, in
our black robes,
460
beat out our
vengeful dance—
[370]
when we launch
our attack.
Leaping from
the heights,
we pound
them
with our feet—
our force trips up the runner
as he
sprints
for home,
a fate
he
cannot bear.
His mind is
so confused
he does
not
sense his fall.
Dark
clouds
of his defilement
470
hover all
around the man.
Murky
shadows
fall,
enveloping
his home—
and Rumour spreads
a tale
of
sorrow.
[380]
Leaping from
the heights,
we pound
them
with our feet—
our force trips up the runner
as he
sprints
for home,
a fate
he
cannot bear.
480
So things
remain.
We have
our
skills—
our powers we fulfill,
keeping
human
evil in our minds.
Our
awesome
powers
cannot
be
appeased by men.
Dishonoured
and despised,
we see
our
work gets done.
Split
off
from gods,
with
no light
from the sun,
490
we make
the
path more arduous
for
those
who still can see
and
for the
blind.
What man is
not in awe
or stands
there unafraid
[390]
to hear
me
state my rights,
those
powers
allowed by Fate
and
ratified
by all the gods,
mine
to hold
forever?
Those old
prerogatives
500
I still
retain—they're
mine.
I have my honour, too,
though my appointed place
is underneath the ground
in sunless darkness.
[Enter Athena]
ATHENA
I heard
someone
summon me from far away.
I was
in Troy,
by the Scamander's banks,
taking
ownership
of new property,
a gift
from
ruling leaders of Achaea,
a major
part
of what their spears had won,
510 [400]
assigned to
me entirely and forever,
a splendid
gift for Theseus' sons.
I've
come
from there at my untiring pace,
not
flying
on wings, but on this whirling cape,
a chariot
yoked to horses in their prime.
Here
I see
an unfamiliar crowd,
strangers
to this place, nothing I fear,
but
astonishing
to see. Who are you?
I'm
talking
to all those assembled here—
the
stranger
crouching there beside my statue,
520
and those
of you like no one ever born,
[410]
creatures
no god has seen in goddesses,
in form
a
thing unknown to mortal men.
But
to say
such things about one's neighbour
who's
done
no wrong is far from just
and
contravenes
our customs.
CHORUS LEADER
Daughter of Zeus,
you'll
find
out everything—and briefly, too.
We are
immortal
children of the Night.
Below
ground,
where we have our homes,
we're
called
the Curses.
ATHENA
Now I know your race
530
I know what
people call you.
CHORUS LEADER
But our powers—
these
you'll
quickly ascertain as well.
ATHENA
Those
I'd
like to learn. Please state them clearly.
[420]
CHORUS LEADER
We hound
out
of their homes all those who kill.
ATHENA
Once
the killer
flees, where does he finally go?
CHORUS LEADER
Where
no one
thinks of joy, for there is none.
ATHENA
Your
screams
would drive this man to such a flight?
CHORUS LEADER
Yes—he
thought
it right to kill his mother.
ATHENA
Why?
Was he
forced to do it? Did he fear
another
person's
anger?
CHORUS LEADER
Where's the urge
540
so strong
to force a man to kill his mother?
ATHENA
There
are
two sides to this dispute. I've heard
only
one half
the argument.
CHORUS LEADER
What about the oath?
He won't
deny
he did it or accept
the
guilt
we charge him with.
ATHENA
Where do you stand?
You
wish to
be considered righteous,
[430]
but not to
act with justice.
CHORUS LEADER
How? Teach me.
You
clearly
have a mind for subtleties.
ATHENA
I assert
that
no one should use oaths
to let
injustice
triumph.
CHORUS LEADER
Question him.
550
Then make
a righteous judgment.
ATHENA
Are you prepared
that
I should
be the one to do this,
to produce
a final verdict?
CHORUS LEADER
Why not?
We respect
your worth, as you do ours.
ATHENA
Stranger,
do you have anything to say
by way
of
a response? State your country,
lineage,
and
circumstance. And then,
defend
yourself
against their accusations,
if you
really
trust the justice of your case,
as you
sit
here clinging to my statue,
560
a sacred suppliant
beside my hearth,
[440]
doing what
Ixion did so long ago.
Speak
to me.
Address all this directly.
ORESTES
Queen
Athena,
your last words express
important
doubts which I must first remove.
I'm
not a
suppliant in need of cleansing.
Nor
have I
fallen at your statue's feet
with
my hands
defiled. On these two points
I'll
offer
weighty proof. Our laws assert
a criminal
polluted with blood guilt
570
will be denied
all speech until he's cleansed
by someone
authorized to purify
a man
for
murder, who sprinkles him
with
suckling
victim's blood. Some time ago,
[450]
in homes of
other men, I underwent
such
purification
rites with slaughtered beasts,
at flowing
streams, as well. So, as I say,
there
are
no grounds for your misgivings here.
As for
my
family, you'll know that soon enough—
I'm
an Argive,
son of Agamemnon.
580
You may well
ask his story—he's the man
who
put that
naval force together.
You
worked
with him to see that Ilion,
Troy's
city,
ceased to be. When he came home,
he died
in
a disgraceful way, butchered
by my
mother,
whose black heart snagged him
[460]
in devious
hunting nets—these still exist,
attesting
to that slaughter in his bath.
I was
in exile
at the time. I came back.
I killed
my
mother—that I don't deny—
590
to avenge
the murder of my father,
whom
I truly
loved. For this murder
Apollo
bears
responsibility,
along
with
me. He urged me to it,
pointing
out
the cruel reprisals I would face
if I
failed
to act against the murderers.
Was
what I
did a righteous act or not?
That
you must
decide. I'll be satisfied,
no matter
how you render judgment.
ATHENA
This
is a
serious matter, too complex
600
[470]
for any mortal
man to think of judging.
It's
not right
even for me to adjudicate
such
cases,
where murder done in passion
merits
passionate
swift punishment.
Above
all,
you come here a suppliant
who's
gone
through all cleansing rituals,
who's
pure
and hence no danger to my shrine.
You
thus have
my respect, for in my view,
where
my city
is concerned, you're innocent.
But
these
Furies also have their function.
610
That's something
we just cannot set aside.
So if
they
fail to triumph in this case,
they'll
spread
their poisonous resentment—
it will seep underground, infecting us,
bring perpetual disease upon our land,
something we can't bear. So stands the case.
[480]
Two options,
each of them disastrous.
Allow
one
to remain, expel the other?
No,
I see
no way of resolving this.
But
since
the judgment now devolves on me,
620
I'll appoint
human judges of this murder,
a tribunal
bound by oath—I'll set it up
to last forever. So you two parties,
summon your witnesses, set out your proofs,
with sworn evidence to back your stories.
Once I've picked the finest men in Athens,
I'll return. They'll rule fairly in this
case,
bound by a sworn oath to act with justice.
[Exit Athena]
CHORUS
If his
legal
action triumphs,
[490]
if now this
matricide prevails,
630
then newly
set divine decrees
will
overthrow
all order.
Mortals
will
at once believe
that
everything's
permitted.
From
now on
parents can expect
repeated
blows
of suffering
inflicted
by their children—
now and in time yet to come.
For Furies
who keep watch on men
will
bring
no anger down
640 [500]
on human crimes—so
then
we loose death everywhere,
all forms of killing known to man.
So one, seeing
his neighbour's pain,
will ask another, "Where's this end?
When does our suffering diminish?"
But the poor wretch can offer nothing—
his remedies are vain, without effect.
So when a
terrible disaster strikes
let
no one
make the old appeal,
650 [510]
"Justice,
you Furies—hear me,
you powers on your thrones!"
It may well happen soon—
a father in despair, a mother
in some new catastrophe,
may scream out for pity,
now the house of justice falls.
Sometimes
what's terrible can work
to bring
about
what's good.
Such
terror
needs to sit on guard,
660
to check the
passionate heart.
There
is a
benefit for men
[520]
to learn control
through suffering.
For
where
is there a man or city—
both alike in this regard—
who still respects what's just
without a heart attuned to fear?
It's not right
that men revere
a life
without
controls
or one
enslaved
by tyrants.
670
Those who
practise moderation
in everything
they do
acquire
strength
from god,
[530]
though he
hands down
his
other
gifts in other ways.
Our words
stress self-control,
for
arrogance,
we know,
is surely
born from sacrilege.
From
a healthy
heart and mind
comes
the
happiness men love,
680
the joy they
ask for in their prayers.
| 
Evans Experientialism 
