The Libation Bearers: Lines 1-585 Summary & Analysis

From the play’s opening moments, Aeschylus makes clear that Agamemnon’s death (which was detailed in Agamemnon, Aeschylus’s previous play in the Oresteia trilogy) still dominates the minds of his characters, and influences their actions. Orestes, meanwhile, immediately establishes his identity as a pious, faithful son who honors both the gods and his father.

Electra, too, shows herself to be a pious woman still traumatized by her father’s death. Orestes introduces to the play the subject of vengeance, a force that will drive nearly every plot point within the piece.

Violent mourning, for the Ancient Greeks, was a form of showing respect not only to the dead, but also to the gods. In contrast to the piety of both Electra and the Chorus, Clytemnestra does not mourn for her dead husband—even the libations she sends to the tombs are “empty” and meaningless. Perhaps surprisingly, this pious Chorus is also bloodthirsty—a clear demonstration of the complex way in which the Greeks viewed vengeance. Although they understood that it was an endless and violent cycle, they still believed that it was often necessary and honorable.

Because Electra is a “proper” Ancient Greek woman, she is essentially powerless to change her circumstances. Unlike her brother Orestes, she cannot leave her home, nor can she take up arms against her hated mother and stepfather. The Chorus, also made up of women, relates to Electra’s feelings of stasis and suffocation. These qualities contrast with the unfeminine Clytemnestra—who is a murderer, but also a woman with agency and power.

Here Aeschylus introduces a crucial question within his play: How can characters seek out bloody vengeance while still remaining moral and pious? The Chorus, however, asserts that morality/piety and vengeance actually go hand in hand, and that it is the duty of moral people to punish evildoers. Note that even here, although the Chorus tells Electra to pray for vengeance, they don’t tell her to carry it out herself—as a woman, that is not her role.

In her prayer, Electra again shows the very real influence that both the gods and the dead have on the lives of the living in her culture. She also directly compares herself to Clytemnestra, a juxtaposition that will remain present in the audience member’s minds throughout the rest of the play.

Since the Chorus represents the general atmosphere of the play’s setting, it is clear that the entire kingdom of Argos hates the tyrannical Clytemnestra and Aegisthus.

Having been oppressed for years by a mother and stepfather she hates, Electra can hardly believe that her brother may in fact be in Argos once more. The matching locks of hair, meanwhile, make it clear how bonded the siblings are (despite the long time that they’ve spent apart). They are, in essence, two halves of the same person, one male and one female.

The footprints that Electra finds add to the sense of her connection with Orestes. The moment in which she actual sees him, yet cannot believe her eyes, only underscores how traumatized she is from years of living, lonely and afraid, under the command of her mother. Even in this heightened emotional moment, it is crucial to note that both Orestes and Electra remain pious, crediting the gods with bringing them back together. Amidst this tragic drama about a violent family, this moment of reunion displays the only healthy emotional connection within the play.

Once more, Aeschylus emphasizes to the audience how isolated Electra has been, and how important her bond with Orestes is. Her prayer to Zeus reminds us of the power of the gods, and of their ability to change the course of human events. The characters essentially assume that they are the pawns of the gods and fate, and so prayer is just as important as action.

In Greek tragedy, families are often cursed with terrible misfortune due to the sins of their ancestors. This is undoubtedly true of Orestes’ and Electra’s family—the house of Atreus—which has been “ruined” by bloodshed for several generations, starting with Agamemnon’s father Atreus, who murdered his brother’s children and tricked him into eating them.

This is the first time that Orestes mentions a crucial plot point: that he has been ordered by the god Apollo to kill his mother in order to avenge Agamemnon. He also mentions the Furies, figures who will become important later in the play and who will play a huge part in its sequel, The Eumenides. Aeschylus also takes this opportunity to distinguish between the pious and the personal. Orestes must kill Clytemnestra because it is the god’s command, but he also wishes to kill her because of what she has done to his father, his sister, and himself.

This passage of prayer reminds us that the gods are closely linked with fate, another omnipresent force in the lives of the ancient Greeks. It also emphasizes the power of the dead over the living, as the Leader of the Chorus describes how the dead are able to influence our decisions from beyond the grave. Agamemnon died shamefully and ignobly—deceived in his own home, and at the hands of a woman—yet another reason that his children feel they must avenge him. It is telling that in his death, Agamemnon is made into a saintly figure, when in life he was a warlord who killed his own daughter in order to begin a war of revenge, and who brought back a concubine (essentially a sex slave) when he returned home to his wife. Yet he was a powerful man and victorious in battle, so he is glorified.

The siblings’ prayers again remind us that they believe their future acts of vengeance to be divinely sanctioned. Their recollection of Agamemnon’s death, meanwhile, illuminates how present the murder still is for them, and how much it galvanizes each and every one of their actions.

The bad dream that Clytemnestra has is a sign that her death is destined to be—it is under divine, not human control. We also learn here that Clytemnestra is aware both of the power of the dead and the force of vengeance, and that she fears for her life.

Orestes’ speculation about himself being the serpent creates a curiously double-edged symbol. On one hand, snakes usually emblemize treachery and entrapment, while Orestes himself has been portrayed as a noble, pious character. This tension reveals the multi-faceted nature of vengeance, which may sometimes be well deserved, but which is always bloody and brutal. Orestes’ decision to disguise himself as a traveler from Delphi, meanwhile, reminds us of his fealty to Apollo, and emphasizes the fact that his murder attempt will be divinely sanctioned by the god of prophecy and truth.