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Orestes
Orestes
Orestes
Ebook125 pages52 minutes

Orestes

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François-Marie Arouet wrote under the nom de plume of Voltaire, and produced works in almost every literary form, including plays, poems, novels, essays, and historical and scientific works. Orestes was produced in 1750, an experiment which intensely interested the literary world and the public. In his Dedicatory Letters to the Duchess of Maine, Voltaire has the following passage on the Greek drama: "We should not, I acknowledge, endeavor to imitate what is weak and defective in the ancients: it is most probable that their faults were well known to their contemporaries. I am satisfied, Madam, that the wits of Athens condemned, as well as you, some of those repetitions, and some declamations with which Sophocles has loaded his Electra: they must have observed that he had not dived deep enough into the human heart. I will moreover fairly confess, that there are beauties peculiar not only to the Greek language, but to the climate, to manners and times, which it would be ridiculous to transplant hither. Therefore I have not copied exactly the Electra of Sophocles-much more I knew would be necessary; but I have taken, as well as I could, all the spirit and substance of it."
LanguageEnglish
Release dateJun 10, 2015
ISBN9781627557504
Orestes
Author

Voltaire

François-Marie Arouet (1694 1778), known by his nom de plume Voltaire, was a French Enlightenment writer, historian and philosopher famous for his wit, his attacks on the established Catholic Church, and his advocacy of freedom of religion, freedom of expression, and separation of church and state. Voltaire was a versatile writer, producing works in almost every literary form, including plays, poems, novels, essays, and historical and scientific works.He wrote more than 20,000 letters and more than 2,000 books and pamphlets. He was an outspoken advocate, despite the risk this placed him in under the strict censorship laws of the time. As a satirical polemicist, he frequently made use of his works to criticize intolerance, religious dogma, and the French institutions of his day.

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    3/5
     Goodness, this is blood drenched. And I'm not sure I follow the logic behind it.

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Orestes - Voltaire

ACT I.

SCENE I.

Scene, the seashore, a wood, a temple, a palace and a tomb, on one side: on the other, Argos at a distance.

Iphisa, Pammenes.

Iphisa

Sayest thou, Pammenes? shall these hated walls,

Where I so long have dragged a life of woe,

Afford at least the melancholy comfort

Of mingling sorrow with my dear Electra?

And will Ægisthus bring her to the tomb

Of Agamemnon, bring his daughter here,

To be a witness of the horrid pomp,

The sad solemnity, which on this day

Annual returns, to celebrate their crimes,

And make their guilt immortal?

Pammenes

O Iphisa,

Thou honored daughter of my royal master,

Like thee, confined within these lonely walls,

The secrets of a vile abandoned court

Do seldom reach Pammenes; but, ’tis rumored,

The jealous tyrant brings Electra here,

Fearful lest Argos, by her cries alarmed,

Should rise to vengeance; every heart, he knows,

Feels for the injured princess, therefore much

He dreads her clamors; with a watchful eye

Observes her conduct, treats her as a slave,

And leads the captive to adorn his triumph.

Iphisa

Good heaven! and must Electra be a slave!

Shall Agamemnon’s blood be thus disgraced

By a barbarian? Will her cruel mother,

Will Clytemnæstra bear the vile reproach

That on herself recoils, and all her race?

Perhaps my sister is too fierce of soul,

She mingles too much pride and bitterness

Of keen resentment with her griefs; alas!

Weak are her arms against a tyrant’s power:

What will her anger, what her pride avail her?

They only irritate a haughty foe,

And cannot serve our cause: my fate at least

Is milder, and this solitary state

Shields me from wrongs which must oppress Electra.

Far from my father’s foes, these pious hands

Can pay due offerings to his honored shade:

Far from his murderer, in this sad retreat

Freely I weep in peace, and curse Ægisthus:

I’m not condemned to see the tyrant here,

Save when the Sun unwillingly brings round

The fatal day that knit the dreadful tie,

When that inhuman monster shed the blood

Of Agamemnon, when base Clytemnæstra—

SCENE II.

Electra, Iphisa, Pammenes.

Iphisa

O my Electra! art thou here? my sister—

Electra

The day of horror is returned,

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