The Tragedies of Seneca / Translated into English Verse, to Which Have Been Appended Comparative Analyses of the Corresponding Greek and Roman Plays, and a Mythological Index

COMPARATIVE ANALYSES

COMPARATIVE ANALYSES OF SENECA'S TRAGEDIES AND THE CORRESPONDING GREEK DRAMAS

The Phoenissae, if, indeed, these fragments are to be considered as belonging to one play, has no direct correspondent in Greek drama; although, in the general situations and in some details, it is similar to parts of three plays: The Seven Against Thebes of Aeschylus, the Oedipus at Colonus of Sophocles, and the Phoenician Damsels of Euripides. The Thyestes is without a parallel in extant Greek drama; and the Octavia, of course, stands alone.

The other seven tragedies attributed by tradition to Seneca, together with their Greek correspondents, are here presented in comparative analyses in order that the reader may be enabled easily to compare, at least so far as subject-matter and dramatic structure are concerned, the Roman tragedies and their Greek originals.

Although the traditional division into acts is followed in the English version of the several plays, it seems wise in these comparisons to give the more minute division into prologue, episodes, and choral interludes.

THE OEDIPUS OF SOPHOCLES, AND THE OEDIPUS OF SENECA

Prologue.—Dialogue between Oedipus and the priest of Zeus, who discloses the present plague-smitten condition of the people, and prays the king for aid since he is so wise. The fatherly regard of Oedipus for his people, in that he has already sent a messenger to ask the aid of the oracle, is portrayed.

The answer of the oracle: first reference to an unexpiated sin. Short question and answer between Oedipus and Creon, the messenger, bringing out the facts of LaÏus' death.

The irony of fate: Oedipus proposes, partly in his own interest, to seek out the murderer. As yet there is no foreshadowing of evil in the king's mind. At the end of the prologue Oedipus remains alone upon the stage.

Prologue.—In the early morning Oedipus is seen lamenting the plague-smitten condition of his people. He narrates how he had fled from Corinth to avoid the fulfilment of a dreadful oracle, that he should kill his father and wed his mother. Even here he cannot feel safe, but still fears some dreadful fate that seems threatening. He describes with minute detail the terrors of the pestilence which has smitten man and beast and even the vegetable world. He prays for death that he may not survive his stricken people. Jocasta remonstrates with him for his despair and reminds him that it is a king's duty to bear reverses with cheerfulness.

Parode, or chorus entry.—The chorus enlarges upon the distresses of the city, and appeals to the gods for aid.

Parode, or chorus entry.—The chorus appeals to Bacchus, relating how the descendants of his old Theban comrades are perishing. It enlarges upon the distresses of the city, and deplores the violence of the plague. The sufferings of the people are described in minute detail.

First episode.—The curse of Oedipus upon the unknown murderer is pronounced, and the charge is made by Tiresias (who long refuses to speak but is forced to do so by Oedipus), "Thou art the man." Oedipus' explanation of Tiresias' charge; it is a plot between the latter and Creon. The facts of Oedipus' birth are hinted at. Tiresias prophesies the after-life of the king, with the name but thinly veiled.

First episode.—Creon, returned from the consultation of the oracle at Delphi, announces that the plague is caused by the unatoned murder of LaÏus, former king of Thebes. Oedipus anxiously inquires who the murderer is, but is told that this is still a mystery. Creon describes the scene at Delphi in the giving of the oracle. Oedipus declares himself eager to hunt out the murderer and inquires why the matter has been left so long uninvestigated. He is told that the terrors of the Sphinx had driven all other thoughts out of the people's mind.

The irony of fate: Oedipus pronounces a dreadful curse upon the murderer of LaÏus and vows not to rest until he finds him. He inquires where the murder took place and how. At this moment the blind old Tiresias enters, led by his daughter, Manto. Tiresias tries by the arts of divination (which are described with the greatest elaboration) to ascertain the name of the murderer, but without avail; and says that recourse must be had to necromancy, or the raising of the dead.

First choral interlude.—The chorus reflects upon the oracle and the certain discovery of the guilty one. Ideal picture of the flight of the murderer. While troubled by the charge of Tiresias, the chorus still refuses to give it credence. After all, the seer is only a man and liable to be mistaken. Oedipus has shown himself a wiser man by solving the riddle of the Sphinx.

First choral interlude.—The chorus sings a dithyrambic strain in praise of the wonderful works of Bacchus. No reference is made to the tragedy which is in progress.

Second episode.—Quarrel of Oedipus and Creon based upon the charges of the former. Oedipus' argument: The deed was done long ago, and Tiresias, though then also a seer, made no charge. Now, when forced by the recent oracle, the seer comes forward with Creon. This looks like a conspiracy. Creon pleads for a fair and complete investigation. Jocasta tries to reconcile the two, but in vain, and Creon is driven out. Jocasta relates the circumstances of LaÏus' death, which tally in all details but one with the death of one slain by Oedipus. A terrible conclusion begins to dawn upon the king. He tells his queen the story of his life and the dreadful oracle, the fear of the fulfilment of which drove him from Corinth. At the end of this episode the death of LaÏus at the hands of Oedipus is all but proved, but the relation between the two is not yet hinted at.

Second episode.—Creon returns from the rites of necromancy in which he had accompanied Tiresias, and strives to avoid telling the result of the investigation to the king. Being at last forced to reveal all that he knows, he describes with great vividness of detail how Tiresias has summoned up the spirits of the dead, and among them LaÏus. The latter declares that Oedipus himself is the murderer, having slain his father and married his mother. Oedipus, strong in the belief that Polybus and Merope of Corinth are his parents, denies the charge, and after a hot dispute orders Creon to be cast into prison, on suspicion of a conspiracy with Tiresias to deprive Oedipus of the scepter.

Second choral interlude.—Prayer for a life in accordance with the will of heaven. Under the shadow of impending ill, the chorus seeks the aid of God, meditates upon the doom of the unrighteous, and considers the seeming fallibility of the oracle.

Second choral interlude.—The chorus refuses to believe the charge against Oedipus, but lays the blame of all these ills upon the evil fate of Thebes which has pursued the Thebans from the first.

Third episode.—A messenger from Corinth brings the news of Polybus' death, the supposed father of Oedipus. The irony of fate: the king is lifted up with joy that now the oracle cannot be fulfilled that he should kill his own father. Step by step the details of the king's infancy come out, which reveal the awful truth to Jocasta. To Oedipus the only result of the present revelation is that he is probably base-born. Jocasta tries to deter Oedipus from further investigation.

Third episode.—Oedipus, remembering that he had slain a man on his way to Thebes, questions Jocasta more closely as to the circumstances of LaÏus' death, and finding these circumstances to tally with his own experience, is convinced that he was indeed the slayer of LaÏus.

At this point a messenger from Corinth, an old man, announces to Oedipus the death of Polybus, the king of Corinth, and the supposed father of Oedipus. The latter is summoned to the empty throne of Corinth. A quick succession of questions and answers brings to light the fact that Oedipus is not the child of Polybus and Merope, but that the messenger himself had given him when an infant to the Corinthian pair. This announcement removes the chief support of Oedipus against the charges of Tiresias, and now he rushes blindly on to know the rest of the fatal truth. The shepherd is summoned who had given the baby to the old Corinthian. He strives to avoid answering, but, driven on by the threats of Oedipus, he at last states that he had received the child from the royal household of Thebes, and that it was in fact the son of Jocasta. At this last and awful disclosure, Oedipus goes off the stage in a fit of raving madness.

Strophe and antistrophe.—A partial interlude, while they wait for the shepherd who is to furnish the last link in the chain of evidence. The chorus conjectures as to the wonderful birth of Oedipus; possibly his father is Pan, or Apollo, or Mercury, or Bacchus.

The shepherd, arriving, also seeks to keep the dreadful truth from the king, but a second time the passion of Oedipus forces the truth from an unwilling witness. At last the whole story comes out, and Oedipus realizes that he has slain his father and wed his mother.

Third choral interlude.—The utter nothingness of human life, judged by the fate of Oedipus, who above all men was successful, wise, and good. It is inscrutable; why should such a fate come to him? The chorus laments the doom of the king as its own.

Third choral interlude.—The chorus reflects upon the dangerous position of the man who is unduly exalted, and illustrates this principle by the case of Icarus.

Exode.—The catastrophe in its final manifestations. A messenger describes the lamentations and suicide of Jocasta, the despair of Oedipus, and the wild mood in which he inflicts blindness upon himself. He comes upon the stage piteously wailing and groping his way. He prays for death or banishment at the hands of Creon, who is now king. He takes a tender farewell of his daughters and consigns them to Creon's care.

The play ends with the solemn warning of the chorus "to reckon no man happy till ye witness the closing day; until he pass the border which severs life from death, unscathed by sorrow."

Exode.—Although there is a short chorus interjected here (lines 980-97) on the inevitableness of fate, all the remainder of the play is really the exode, showing the catastrophe in its final manifestation. A messenger describes with horrible minuteness how Oedipus in his ravings has dug out his eyes. At this point Oedipus himself comes upon the stage, rejoicing in his blindness, since now he can never look upon his shame. And now Jocasta appears, having heard strange rumors. On learning the whole truth, she slays herself on the stage with Oedipus' sword. The play ends as the blind old king goes groping his way out into darkness and exile.

THE MEDEA OF EURIPIDES, AND THE MEDEA OF SENECA

Prologue.—The old nurse of Medea, alone upon the stage, laments that the Argo was ever framed and that Medea had ever fled from Colchis. Then had she never been here in Corinth an exile and now deserted even by her husband, Jason. In describing Medea's distracted condition, the nurse first voices the fear of that violence which forms the catastrophe of the play. Enter an old attendant with the two sons of Medea, who announces a new woe—that Creon, the king, has decreed the banishment of Medea and her children. The nurse repeats her warning note, and urges the attendant to keep the children out of the sight of their mother, who even now can be heard raving within, and vowing the destruction of her children and her husband. The attendant retires with the children.

Prologue.—Medea, finding herself deserted by Jason, calls upon gods and furies to grant her vengeance. She prays for destruction to light upon her rival, and imprecates curses upon Jason. She thinks it monstrous that the sun can still hold on his way, and prays for power to subvert the whole course of nature. She finally realizes that she is impotent save as she has recourse to her old sorceries which she has long since laid aside, and resolves upon them as a means of revenge.

Parode, or chorus entry.—The chorus of Corinthian women comes to the front of the palace to inquire the cause of Medea's cries, which they have heard, and to profess their attachment to her. From time to time Medea's voice can be heard from within as she prays for death and imprecates curses upon Jason. The nurse at the suggestion of the chorus undertakes to induce her mistress to come forth, that converse with her friends may soothe her grief. The nurse goes within, leaving the chorus alone upon the stage.

Parode, or chorus entry.—A chorus of Corinthians chants an epithalamium for the nuptials of Jason and CreÜsa. First, in Asclepiadean strains, they invoke the gods to be present and bless the nuptials. The strain then changes to quick, joyful Glyconics in praise of the surpassing beauty of the married pair. Changing back to Asclepiads, the chorus continues in extravagant praise of Jason and his bride, congratulates him on his exchange from Medea to CreÜsa, and finally, in six lines of hexameter, exults in the license of the hour.

First episode.—Medea comes forth from the palace to explain to the chorus her position and unhappy condition. She deplores the lot of women in general, and especially in relation to marriage, and enlists the sympathy of the chorus in her attempt to secure some revenge for her wrongs. They confess the justice of her cause and promise to keep her secret.

Creon announces to Medea that she must leave his realm at once, for much he fears that she will take her revenge upon him and upon his house. She pleads for grace, and bewails her reputation for magic power; she assures the king that he has nothing to fear from her, and affects compliance with all that has taken place. Creon, while still protesting that she cannot be trusted, yields in so far that he grants her a single day's delay.

Medea tells the chorus that her recent compliance was only feigned, and openly announces her intention before the day is done of slaying Creon, his daughter, and Jason. She debates the various methods by which this may be accomplished, and decides, for her own greater safety, upon the help of magic.

First episode.—Hearing the epithalamium, Medea goes into a passion of rage. She recounts all that she has done for Jason, and exclaims against his ingratitude. Again, with shifting feelings she pleads Jason's cause to herself and strives to excuse him, blaming all upon Creon. Upon him she vows the direst vengeance. Meanwhile the nurse in vain urges prudence.

Creon now enters, manifesting in his words a fear of Medea, and bent upon her immediate banishment. Medea pleads her innocence, and begs to know the reason for her exile. She reviews at length her former regal estate and contrasts with this her present forlorn condition. She claims the credit for the preservation of all the Argonautic heroes. Upon this ground she claims that Jason is hers. She begs of Creon some small corner in his kingdom for her dwelling, but the king remains obdurate. She then prays for a single day's delay in which to say farewell to her children, who are to remain, the wards of the king. This prayer Creon reluctantly grants.

First choral interlude.—The course of nature is subverted. No longer let woman alone have the reputation for falsehood; man's insincerity equals hers. In poetry the fickleness of both should be sung, just as in history it is seen. Though Medea, for her love of Jason, left her native land and braved all the terrors of the deep, she is now left all forsaken and alone. Verily truth and honor have departed from the earth.

First choral interlude.—Apropos of Medea's reference to the Argonautic heroes the chorus sings of the dangers which those first voyagers upon the sea endured; how the natural bounds which the gods set to separate the lands have now been removed—and all this for gold and this barbarian woman. (The chorus is nowhere friendly to Medea, as in Euripides.) The ode ends with a prophecy of the time when all the earth shall be revealed, and there shall be no "Ultima Thule."

Second episode.—Jason reproaches Medea for her intemperate speech against the king, which has resulted in her banishment, and shows her that he is still concerned for her interests. She retorts with reproaches because of his ingratitude, and proceeds to recount all that she had done for him and given up in his behalf. Jason replies that it was not through her help but that of Venus that he had escaped all the perils of the past, and reminds her of the advantages which she herself had gained by leaving her barbarous land for Greece. He even holds that his marriage into the royal family of Corinth is in her interest and that of her children, since by this means their common fortunes will be mended. He offers her from his new resources assistance for her exile, which she indignantly refuses, and Jason retires from her bitter taunts.

Second episode.—Medea is rushing out to seek vengeance, while the nurse tries in vain to restrain her. The nurse soliloquizes, describing the wild frenzy of her mistress, and expressing grave fears for the result. Medea, not noticing the nurse's presence, reflects upon the day that has been granted her by Creon, and vows that her terrible vengeance shall be commensurate with her sufferings. She rushes off the stage, while the nurse calls after her a last warning.

Jason now enters, lamenting the difficult position in which he finds himself. He asserts that it is for his children's sake that he has done all, and hopes to be able to persuade Medea herself to take this view. Medea comes back, and at sight of Jason her fury is still further inflamed. She announces her intended flight. But whither shall she flee? For his sake she has closed all lands against herself. In bitter sarcasm she accepts all these sufferings as her just punishment. Then in a flash of fury she recalls all her services to him and contrasts his ingratitude. She shifts suddenly to passionate entreaty, and prays him to pity her, to give back all that she gave up for him, if she must needs flee; she begs him to brave the wrath of Creon and flee with her, and promises him her protection as of old. In a long series of quick, short passages they shift from phase to phase of feeling, and finally Medea prays that in her flight she may have her children as her comrades. Jason's refusal shows how deeply he loves his sons, and here is suggested to Medea for the first time the method of her direst revenge. Jason now yields to her assumed penitence and grants her the custody of the children for this day alone. When Jason has withdrawn, she bids the nurse prepare the fatal robe which she proposes to send to her rival by the hands of her children.

Second choral interlude.—The chorus prays to be delivered from the pangs of immoderate love and jealousy, from exile, and the ingratitude of friends.

Second choral interlude.—The chorus opens on the text, "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," and continues with a prayer for Jason's safety. It then recounts the subsequent history of the individual Argonauts, showing how almost all came to some untimely end. They might indeed be said to deserve this fate, for they volunteered to assist in that first impious voyage in quest of the golden fleece; but Jason should be spared the general doom, for the task had been imposed upon him by his usurping uncle, Pelias.

Third, episode.—Aegeus, in Corinth by accident, recognizes Medea, and learns from her her present grievous condition and imminent exile. She begs that he receive her into his kingdom as a friend under his protection. This he promises with a mighty oath to do.

Medea, left alone with the chorus, explains to it still more in detail her plans. She will send her sons with gifts to the new bride, which, by their magic power, will destroy her and all who touch her. She adds that she will also slay her two sons, the more to injure Jason. The chorus, while protesting against this last proposal, offers no resistance.

Third episode.—The nurse in a long monologue recites Medea's magic wonders of the past, and all her present preparations. Then Medea's voice is heard, and presently she comes upon the stage chanting her incantations. She summons up the gods of Tartara to aid her task; recounts all the wonders which her charms can work; describes her store of magic fires and other potent objects. Then breaking into quicker measure, as if filled with a fuller frenzy, she continues her incantations accompanied by wild cries and gestures. She finally dispatches her sons to Jason's bride with the robe she has anointed with her magic drugs and charged with her curses. She hastens out in the opposite direction.

Third choral interlude.—The chorus, dwelling upon Medea's proposed place of refuge, sings the praises of Athens, sacred to the Muses. It contrasts with this holy city the dreadful deed which Medea intends, and again vainly strives to dissuade her.

Third choral interlude.—The chorus notes and describes Medea's wild bearing, and prays for her speedy departure from their city.

Fourth episode.—Medea, sending for Jason, with feigned humility reproaches herself for her former intemperate words to him, and begs only that he use his influence for the reprieve of their children from exile. To assist him in this, she proposes to send the children themselves, bearing a gorgeous robe of golden tissue (which she has anointed with magic poison) as a wedding present to the bride. Upon this errand Jason retires attended by his little sons.

Fourth choral interlude.—The chorus, with full knowledge of the fatal robe, pictures the delight of the bride at its reception, and laments her fearful doom.

Fifth episode.—This episode is in four parts.

The attendant returns with the children and announces to Medea that her gifts have prevailed for their reprieve. (The attendant retires.)

Medea contrasts the assured career of her children with her own hapless condition; then remembers her resolve and with softening heart laments their dreadful fate. She hastily sends them within the palace. Left alone, she again struggles between her mother-love and her resolve not to leave her children subject to the scorn of her foes. (She here leaves the stage to wait for tidings from the royal house.)

Then follows a monologue by the chorus leader discussing the advantages of childlessness. No reference is made to the passing events.

Medea returns just in time to meet a messenger who breathlessly announces the death of Creon and his daughter. At the request of Medea he gives a detailed account of the reception of the magic robe and crown, the bride's delight, and her sudden and awful death, in which her father also was involved. He urges Medea to fly at once. She announces her intention to do so as soon as she has slain her children; and then rushes into the house.

Fifth choral interlude.—This consists of a single strophe and antistrophe in which the chorus calls upon the gods to restrain Medea's mad act. Then are heard within the house the shrieks first of the two children, then of one, then silence, the chorus meanwhile wildly shouting to Medea to desist from her deadly work.

The exode.—Jason appears in search of Medea that he may avenge on her the death of the royal pair; but most he fears for his children. The chorus informs him that they are already slain within the palace by their mother's hand. He prepares to force an entrance into the house.

But now Medea appears in a chariot drawn by dragons. She defies Jason's power to harm her. Jason replies by reproaching her with all the murderous deeds of her life, which have culminated in this crowning deed of blood. She in turn reproaches him and his ingratitude as the cause of all. A storm of mutual imprecations follows, and Medea disappears with the bodies of her two sons, denying to Jason even the comfort of weeping over their remains.

The exode.—A messenger comes running in from the direction of the palace, and announces that the king and his daughter are dead. The eager questions of the chorus bring out the strange circumstances attending this catastrophe. Medea enters in time to hear that her magic has been successful, and ignoring the nurse's entreaties to flee at once, she becomes absorbed in her own reflections. And now in her words may be seen the inward struggle between maternal love and jealous hate as she nerves herself for the final act of vengeance. The purpose to kill her children grows upon her, resist it as she may, until in an ecstasy of madness, urged on by a vision of her murdered brother, she slays her first son; and then, bearing the corpse of one and leading the other by the hand, she mounts to the turret of her house. Here with a refinement of cruelty she slays the second son in Jason's sight, disregarding his abject prayers for the boy's life. Now a chariot drawn by dragons appears in the air. This Medea mounts and is borne away, while Jason shouts his impotent curses after her.

THE HERCULES FURENS OF EURIPIDES, AND THE HERCULES FURENS OF SENECA

Prologue.—The old Amphitryon, before the altar of Jupiter, at the entrance of the house of Hercules in Thebes, relates how Hercules has gone to the lower world to bring thence to the realms of day the triple-headed Cerberus. Meanwhile, Lycus, taking advantage of the hero's absence, has slain king Creon and usurped his throne. The father, wife, and children of Hercules he has reduced to poverty, and holds them in durance here in Thebes, threatening to slay the sons,

Lest, when the boys attain maturer age,

They should avenge their grandsire, Creon's, death.

Amphitryon condoles with Megara, and counsels with her how they may escape the dangers of their present lot.

Prologue.—Juno complains that she is fairly driven out of heaven by her numerous rivals, mortal women who have been deified and set in the sky, either they or their offspring, by Jupiter. Especially is her wrath hot against Hercules, against whom she has waged fruitless war from his infancy until now. But he thrives on hardship, and scorns her opposition. She passes in review the hard tasks which she has set him, and all of which he has triumphantly performed. Already is he claiming a place in heaven. He can be conquered only by his own hand. Yes, this shall be turned against him, for a fury shall be summoned up from hell who shall fill his heart with madness; and in this madness shall he do deeds which shall make him long for death.

Parode, or chorus entry.—The chorus of Theban elders, feeble, tottering old men, enters and bemoans the wretched fate that has befallen their city and the household of their prince.

Parode, or chorus entry.—A vivid picture of the dawning day, when the stars and waning moon fade out before the rising sun; when Toil wakes up and resumes its daily cares; when through the fields the animals and birds are all astir with glad, new life.

But in the cities men awaken to repeat the sordid round of toil, the greedy quest for gold and power. But, whether happily or unhappily, all are speeding down to the world of shades. Even before his time has Hercules gone down to Pluto's realm, and has not yet returned.

First episode.—Now enters Lycus, the usurper. He insolently taunts his victims on their helplessness, tells them that Hercules will never return, belittles and scorns the hero's mighty deeds, and announces his intention of killing the sons.

Amphitryon answers the slanders of Lycus against Hercules, and protests against the proposed barbarous treatment of the children, who are innocent of any harm. He reproaches Thebes and all the land of Greece, because they have so ill repaid the services of their deliverer in not coming to the rescue of his wife and children. Lycus gives orders to burn the hated race of Hercules, even where they kneel for refuge at the altar-side; and threatens the elders who would thwart his will, bidding them remember that they are but as slaves in his sight. Yet the old men valiantly defy him, and warn him that they will withstand his attacks upon the children.

But Megara shows them how foolish it is to contend against the king's unbounded power. Let them rather entreat his mercy. Could not exile be substituted for death? But no, for this is worse than death. Rather, let them all die together. Perhaps Lycus will allow her to go into the palace and deck her children in funeral garments? This prayer is granted, though Lycus warns them that they are to die at once. Left alone, Amphitryon chides Jupiter because he does not care for the children of his son:

Thou know'st not how

To save thy friends. Thou surely art a god,

Either devoid of wisdom, or unjust.

First episode.—Megara enters and bewails the fresh woes that are ever ready to meet her husband's home-coming. She recounts the incidents of his long and difficult career, his heroic suffering at Juno's bidding.

And now base Lycus has taken advantage of her husband's absence in the lower world to kill her father, Creon, king of Thebes, and all his sons, and to usurp the throne—

And Lycus rules the Thebes of Hercules!

She prays her husband soon to come and right these wrongs, though in her heart she fears that he will never come again.

Old Amphitryon tries to reassure her by recalling the superhuman valor and strength of Hercules, but without success.

Now Lycus appears, boasting of the power which he has gained, not by long descent from a noble line, but by his own valor. But his house cannot stand by valor alone. He must strengthen his power by union with some princely house—he will marry Megara! Should she refuse, he will give to utter ruin all the house of Hercules.

Meeting her at the moment, he attempts with specious arguments to persuade her to his plan. But Megara repulses his monstrous proposition with indignant scorn. Lycus attempts to defend his slaughter of her father and brother as done through the exigency of war, and pleads with her to put away her wrath; but all in vain, and in the end he bids his attendants heap high a funeral pyre on which to burn the woman and all her brood.

When Lycus has retired, Amphitryon in his extremity prays to heaven for aid; but suddenly checks himself with incredulous joy, for he hears approaching the well-known step of Hercules!

First choral interlude.—The chorus sings in praise of the mighty works of Hercules, describing these in picturesque detail, from the destruction of the Nemean lion to his last adventure which has taken him to the world of shades, whence, alas, he will never more return. And meanwhile, lacking his protection, his friends and family are plunged in hopeless misery.

First choral interlude.—Verily fortune is unjust, for while Eurystheus sits at ease, the nobler Hercules must suffer unending hardships. His labors are briefly recapitulated. Now has he gone to hell to bring back Cerberus. Oh, that he may conquer death as all things else, and come back again, as did Orpheus by the charm of his lyre.

Second episode.—Forth from the palace, all dressed in the garb of death, come Megara and her children. She is ready for the doom which has been pronounced upon them. She sadly recalls the fond hopes that she and her husband had cherished for these sons. But these bright prospects have vanished now, for death is waiting to claim them all, herself as well. She will fold them in a last motherly embrace, and pour out her grief:

How, like the bee with variegated wings,

Shall I collect the sorrows of you all,

And blend the whole together in a flood

Of tears exhaustless!

But perhaps even yet her absent lord has power to intervene in her behalf, though he be but a ghost. She prays despairingly that he will come to aid. Amphitryon would try the favor of Jove once more in this extremity:

I call on thee, O Jove, that, if thou mean

To be a friend to these deserted children,

Thou interpose without delay and save them;

For soon 'twill be no longer in thy power.

But at this juncture, when no help seems possible from heaven or hell, to their amazed joy, Hercules himself appears, and in the flesh. He perceives the mourning garments of his family, and the grief-stricken faces of the chorus, and quickly learns the cause of all this woe. He at once plans vengeance upon the wretch who has wrought it all. He has, himself, forewarned by a "bird of evil omen perched aloft," entered Thebes in secret; and now he will hide within his own palace and wait until Lycus comes to fetch the victims whom he has doomed to death. But first he briefly replies to Amphitryon's questions as to the success of his errand to the lower world.

Second episode.—Hercules enters, fresh from the lower world, rejoicing that he again beholds the light of day, and exulting in the accomplishment of his latest and most difficult task; when suddenly he notices soldiers on guard, and his wife and children dressed in mourning garments. He asks what these things mean. Amphitryon answers briefly that Lycus has killed Creon and his sons, usurped the throne, and now has doomed Megara and her children to death.

Hercules leaves his home at once to find, and take vengeance on, his enemy, though Theseus, whom he has rescued from the world of shades, begs for the privilege himself of slaying Lycus. Left with Amphitryon, in reply to the latter's questions, Theseus gives in great detail an account of the lower world, its way of approach, its topography, and the various creatures who dwell within its bounds. After describing in particular the operations of justice and the punishment of the condemned, he tells how Hercules overcame Cerberus and brought him to the upper world.

Second choral interlude.—The old men sing in envy of youth and complaint of old age:

But now a burden on my head

Heavier than Aetna's rock, old age, I bear.

They hold that had the gods been wiser they would have given renewed youth as a reward to the virtuous, leaving the degenerate to fall asleep and wake no more. And yet, though oppressed by age, they still may "breathe the strain Mnemosyne inspires," and sing unceasingly the deeds of Hercules:

Alcides, the resistless son of Jove;

Those trophies which to noble birth belong

By him are all surpassed; his forceful hand,

Restoring peace, hath cleansed this monster-teeming land.

Second choral interlude.—The chorus, with Theseus' words in mind, dwell in fancy still upon the lower world. They follow Hercules along "that dark way, which to the distant manes leads," and picture the thronging shades, the "repulsive glooms," and the "weary inactivity of that still, empty universe." They pray that it may be long ere they must go to that dread world, to which all the wandering tribes of earth must surely come. But away with gloomy thoughts! Now is the time for joy, for Hercules is come again. Let animals and men make holiday, and fitly celebrate their prince's world-wide victories, and their own deliverance from their recent woes.

Third episode.—Lycus enters and encounters Amphitryon without the palace. Him he bids to go within and bring out the victims to their death. To this Amphitryon objects on the ground that it would make him an accomplice in their murder. Whereupon Lycus enters the palace to do his own errand. The old man, looking after him, exclaims:

Depart; for to that place the fates ordain

You now are on the road;

while the chorus rejoices that now the oppressor is so soon to meet his just punishment. Now the despairing cries of Lycus are heard within and then—silence.

Third episode.—Hercules returns to his house, fresh from the slaying of Lycus, and proceeds to offer sacrifices of thanksgiving to Jupiter. But in the midst of the sacrifice the madness planned by Juno begins to come upon him. His sight is darkened, and his reason changed to delirium. Now he catches sight of his children, cowering in fright; he thinks they are the children of Lycus, immediately lets fly an arrow at one of them, and seizes a second, whom he drags from the scene. Amphitryon, standing where he can see all that takes place, describes the wretched death of the second, and then the third, though Megara tries to save her last remaining child. She also falls before the blow of her husband, who thinks in his madness that she is his cruel stepmother, Juno. Hercules, re-entering, exults in his supposed victory over his enemies, and then sinks down in a deep faint.

Third choral interlude.—All is now joy and exultation. Fear has departed, hope has come back again, and faith in the protecting care of the gods is restored. Therefore, let all Thebes give herself up to the rapture and triumph of this hour.

But now two specters are seen hovering over the palace, one of whom introduces herself to the chorus as Iris, the ambassadress of Juno, and announces that her companion is a fiend, daughter of the night. Their mission hither is, at the command of Juno, to drive Hercules into a madness in which he shall slay his children. The fiend, indeed, makes a weak protest against such a mission, but speedily yields and goes darting into the palace, where we know that she begins at once her deadly work within the breast of Hercules.

The chorus bemoans the city's short-lived joy, and the new and terrible disaster that has fallen upon their hero's house. Soon they hear the mad shouts of Hercules, and know by these that the fiend has already done her fatal work.

Third choral interlude.—The chorus calls upon heaven, earth, and sea to mourn for Hercules in this new disaster that has befallen him. They pray that he may be restored to sanity. In a long apostrophe to Sleep they pray that the soothing influences of this god may hold and subdue him until his former mind returns to its accustomed course. They watch his feverish tossings, and suffer with him in the grief which he so soon must realize. They close with a pathetic lament over the dead children.

Exode.—A messenger hurries out of the palace, and describes the dreadful scenes that have just been enacted there. Hercules was offering sacrifices of purification before Jove's altar, with his three sons and Megara beside him. All was propitious, when suddenly a madness seized on Hercules. He ceased his present sacrifice, declaring that he must first go to Mycenae and kill Eurystheus and his sons, and so make an end of all his enemies at once. In fancy he mounted a chariot and speedily arrived at Mycenae. His own sons seemed to his disordered vision to be Eurystheus' sons; and, rushing savagely upon them, he soon had slain them all, and Megara herself. Then did he fall into a deep, swoonlike slumber, prostrate beside a mighty column, to which the attendants tied him securely with cords, lest he awake and do further mischief.

The palace doors are now thrown open, and the prostrate, sleeping Hercules is seen. Amphitryon warns the chorus not to wake him lest they restore him to his miseries. Soon Hercules awakes, and in his right mind. He seems to himself to have had a dreadful dream. He looks in wonder at the cords which bind his arms, at the fresh-slain corpses lying near, at his own arrows scattered on the floor. He calls aloud for someone to explain these things to him. Amphitryon advances and informs him that in his madness, sent by Juno's hate, he has destroyed his wife and all his sons.

And now Theseus, having heard that Lycus has usurped the throne of Thebes, and grateful for his own deliverance from the world of shades by Hercules, has come with an army of Athenian youth to aid his friend. He is shocked to find the hero sitting in deepest dejection, with head bowed low, and covered with a mourning-veil. Quickly he inquires and learns the truth from Amphitryon. With noble and unselfish friendship, he offers his sympathy and help to Hercules, although the latter warns him to avoid the contagion which his own guilty presence engenders. He bids Hercules be a man, and give over his threats of self-destruction.

Hercules gives the reasons why it is impossible for him to live. First, Juno's inveterate hate, which attacked him in his very cradle, pursues him still, relentlessly; but, most and worst of all, he has incurred such odium because of the murder of his wife and children, that he will be henceforth an outcast on the earth. No land will give him refuge now. Why should he live? Let him die; and let Juno's cup of happiness be full.

Theseus reminds him that no man escapes unscathed by fate. Nay, even the gods themselves have done unlawful things, and yet live on and do not feel the obloquy their deeds should cause. As for a place of refuge, Athens shall be his home. There shall he obtain full cleansing for his crimes, a place of honor, and ample provision for his wants. All that a generous and grateful friend can give shall be his own.

Hercules accepts this offer of Theseus, reflecting also that he might be charged with cowardice should he give up to his troubles and seek refuge in death. He accordingly takes a mournful farewell of his dead wife and children, commends their bodies to Amphitryon for burial, which it is not lawful for him to give, and so commits himself to the hands of his faithful friend:

I will follow Theseus,

Towed like a battered skiff. Whoe'er prefers

Wealth or dominion to a steadfast friend

Judges amiss.

Exode.—Hercules wakes up in his right mind, bewildered and uncertain where he is. His eyes fall on the murdered children, though he does not as yet recognize them as his own. He misses his familiar club and bow, and wonders who has been bold enough to remove these and not to fear even a sleeping Hercules. Now he recognizes in the corpses his own wife and children:

Oh, what sight is this?

My sons lie murdered, weltering in their blood;

My wife is slain. What Lycus rules the land?

Who could have dared to do such things in Thebes,

And Hercules returned?

He notices that Theseus and Amphitryon turn away and will not meet his gaze. He asks them who has slain his family. At last, partly through their half-admissions, and partly through his own surmise, it comes to him that this dreadful deed is his own. His soul reels with the shock, and he prays wildly for death. No attempts of his two friends to palliate his deed can soothe his grief and shame. At last the threat of old Amphitryon instantly to anticipate the death of Hercules by his own leads the hero to give over his deadly purpose.

He consents to live—but where? What land will receive a polluted wretch like him? He appeals to Theseus:

O Theseus, faithful friend, seek out a place,

Far off from here where I may hide myself.

Theseus offers his own Athens as a place of refuge, where his friend may find at once asylum and cleansing from his sin:

My land awaits thy coming; there will Mars

Wash clean thy hands and give thee back thy arms.

That land, O Hercules, now calls to thee,

Which even gods from sin is wont to free.

THE HIPPOLYTUS OF EURIPIDES, AND THE HIPPOLYTUS OF SENECA

Prologue.—Venus complains that Hippolytus alone of all men sets her power at naught and owns allegiance to her rival, Diana. She announces her plan of revenge: that Phaedra shall become enamored of her stepson, that Theseus shall be made aware of this and in his rage be led to slay his son. If Phaedra perish too, it will but add to the triumph of the goddess' slighted power.

Hippolytus comes in from the chase and renders marked homage to Diana. He is warned by an aged officer of the palace "to loathe that pride which studies not to please." Inquiring the meaning of this warning, he is told to recognize the presence of Venus, too, and to include her in his devotions; but from this advice he turns away in scorn.

Prologue.—Hippolytus, in hunting-costume, appears in the court of the palace, which is filled with huntsmen bearing nets and all sorts of hunting-weapons, and leading dogs in leash. The young prince, in a long, rambling speech, assigns places for the hunt, and their duties to his various servants and companions. He ends with an elaborate ascription of praise to his patroness Diana, as goddess of the chase, and with a prayer to her for success in his own present undertaking. The whole speech is in lyric strain, the anapestic measure, most commonly employed by Seneca.

Parode, or chorus entry.—The chorus of Troezenian women deplores the strange malady that has befallen the young queen. They relate how

This is the third revolving day,

Since, o'erpowered by lingering pains,

She from all nourishment abstains,

Wasting that lovely frame with slow decay.

At the conclusion of the lyric part of the chorus, the queen, closely veiled, in company with her aged nurse, is seen coming from the palace gates.

Parode, or chorus entry.—The technical chorus entry is entirely lacking in this play. While the chorus may be assumed to have entered and to have been present during the long interview between Phaedra and her nurse, which forms the first episode, still its presence is in no way manifested until the end of this interview.

First episode.—Full of anxiety, the nurse strives to indulge her mistress' every whim. Phaedra answers feebly at first, but suddenly, to the amazement of her companion, her speech is filled with language of the chase, and she again relapses into her mute lethargy. At last, under the insistence of the nurse to probe her mystery, Phaedra confesses that the wretched fate of her house pursues her, too, and that she now feels the torments of love; and, though she does not speak his name, the truth at last is clear that Hippolytus is the object of her passion. The nurse recoils in horror and shame from this confession.

Phaedra describes how she has struggled against her unhappy love, but in vain, and is now resolved on death in order to save her honor. At this the nurse throws all her influence in the opposite scale, arguing that, after all, the sway of Venus is universal, that it is only human to love, and that this is no reason why one should cast his life away. She even proposes to acquaint Hippolytus with her mistress' feelings, and strive to win his love in return. This proposal Phaedra indignantly rejects. The nurse then offers to fetch from the house certain philters which will cure the queen of her malady. The queen reluctantly consents to this, and the nurse retires into the palace.

First episode.—Phaedra bewails her present lot, in that she has been forced to leave her native Crete, and live in wedlock with her father's enemy. And even he has now deserted her, gone to the very realms of Dis, in company with a madcap friend, to seduce and bear away the gloomy monarch's queen. But a worse grief than this is preying on her soul. She feels in her own heart the devastating power of unlawful love, which has already destroyed all the natural interests of her life. She recalls her mother's unhappy passion; but this was bearable compared with her own. For Venus has, from deadly hatred of her family, filled her with a far more hopeless love. She does not name the object of her passion, but, from her guarded references, it is clear that Hippolytus, her stepson, is meant.

The nurse urges her mistress to drive this passion from her breast, moralizing upon the danger of delay. Has not her house already known sinful love enough? Such love is dangerous for it cannot long be hid. Granting that Theseus may never return to earth, can her sin be concealed from her father? from her grandsires, both gods of heaven? And what of her own conscience? Can she ever be happy or at peace with such a sin upon her soul? She pictures her mistress' passion in all its hideousness. Besides, it is most hopeless, since Hippolytus, woman-hater that he is, can never be brought to respond to it. Phaedra yields to these arguments and entreaties of the nurse, and says that now she is resolved upon death as her only refuge. Hereupon the nurse (the usual rÔle) begs her not to take this desperate course, and undertakes to bend Hippolytus to their will.

First choral interlude.—The chorus prays that love may never come upon its breast with immoderate power, and relates instances of the resistless sway of Venus and her son.

First choral interlude.—The chorus sings at length upon the universal and irresistible sway of love.

Second episode.—Phaedra, standing near the doors of the palace, suddenly becomes agitated, and utters despairing cries. The chorus, inquiring the cause of these, is told to listen. At first there is only a confused murmur from within; but this soon resolves itself into the angry denunciations of Hippolytus and the pleading tones of the nurse. By these Phaedra learns that the nurse has indeed revealed the fatal secret to Hippolytus under an oath that he will not betray the truth to anyone, and that the youth has received the announcement with horror and scorn. He breaks forth into bitter reproaches against all womankind. He regrets that his lips are sealed by his oath, else would he straightway reveal to Theseus all his wife's unfaithfulness.

Phaedra, on her side, reproaches the nurse for betraying her secret. She angrily dismisses her, and, after exacting an oath of silence from the chorus, goes out, reiterating her resolve to die, and suggests that she has one expedient left by which her name may be preserved from infamy, and her sons from dishonor.

Second episode.—On the inquiry of the chorus as to how the queen is faring, the nurse describes the dreadful effect which this malady of love has already produced upon her. Then the palace doors open, and Phaedra is seen reclining upon a couch, attended by her tiring-women. She rejects all the beautiful robes and jewels which they offer, and desires to be dressed as a huntress, ready for the chase.

The nurse prays to Diana to conquer the stubborn soul of Hippolytus and bend his heart toward her mistress. At this moment the youth himself enters and inquires the cause of the nurse's distress.

Thereupon ensues a long debate, in which the nurse chides Hippolytus for his austere life and argues that the pleasures of life were meant to be enjoyed, and that no life comes to its full fruition unless youth is given free rein. The young man replies by a rhapsody on the life of the woods, so full of simple, wholesome joys, and so free from all the cares of life at court and among men. He compares this with the Golden Age, and traces the gradual fall from the innocence of that time to the abandoned sin of the present. He concludes with laying all the blame for this upon woman.

Phaedra now comes forth, and, seeing Hippolytus, falls fainting, but is caught in the young man's arms. He attempts to reassure her and inquires the cause of her evident grief. After much hesitation, she at last confesses her love for him and begs him to pity her. With scorn and horror he repulses her and starts to kill her with his sword; but, deciding not so to stain his sword, he throws the weapon away and makes off toward the forest.

The nurse now plans to save her mistress by inculpating Hippolytus. She accordingly calls loudly for help, and tells the attendants who come rushing in that the youth has attempted an assault upon the queen, and shows his sword in evidence.

Second choral interlude.—The chorus prays to be wafted far away from these scenes of woe; and laments that the hapless queen had ever come from Crete, for then she would not now be doomed by hopeless love to self-inflicted death.

Second choral interlude.—The chorus dwells upon and praises the beauty of Hippolytus, and discourses upon the theme that beauty has always been a dangerous possession, citing various mythological instances in proof of this.

Third episode.—A messenger hurriedly enters with the announcement that the queen has destroyed herself by the noose. The chorus, though grieved, manifests no surprise at this, and is divided as to a plan of action. And now enters Theseus, who demands the cause of the lamentations of the servants, which may be heard from within the palace. He learns from the chorus the fact and manner, but not the cause, of Phaedra's death.

The palace doors are now thrown open and the shrouded body of the queen is discovered within. Theseus, in an agony of lamentations, seeks to know the cause of his queen's death. He at length discovers a letter clasped in her dead hand, by which he is informed that Phaedra has slain herself in grief and shame because her honor has been violated by the king's own son, Hippolytus. Thereupon Theseus curses his son, and calls on Neptune to destroy him, offering this as one of the three requests which, in accordance with the promise of the god, should not be denied.

Here enters Hippolytus, hearing the sound of his father's voice. He looks in amazement upon the corpse of Phaedra, and begs his father to explain her death. Theseus, supposing that his son conceals a guilty conscience, makes no direct answer, but inveighs against the specious arts of man. This strange speech, and still more the manner of his father, now show Hippolytus that he himself is connected in his father's mind with Phaedra's death; and he seeks to know who has thus calumniated him. The wrath of Theseus now breaks over all bounds. He charges his son with the dishonor and murder of his wife, and with withering scorn taunts him with his former professions of purity. Hippolytus protests his innocence, but Theseus continues obdurate, and produces the fatal letter in proof of his statements. Then the youth realizes the terrible mesh of circumstances in which he is taken; but, bound by his oath of secrecy, he endures in silence. After Theseus has pronounced the doom of exile upon him, and retired within the gates, he himself goes forth to seek his comrades and acquaint them with his fate.

Third episode.—Theseus, just returned to earth from hades, and with all the horrors of the lower world still upon him, briefly refers to his dreadful experiences and his escape by the aid of Hercules. Then, hearing the sounds of lamentation, he asks the cause. He is told by the nurse that Phaedra, for some reason which she will not disclose, has resolved on immediate self-destruction. Rushing into the palace, he encounters Phaedra just within. After urgent entreaties and threats from Theseus, she confesses that she is determined to die in order to remove the stain upon her honor; and without mentioning the name of him who has ruined her, she shows the sword which Hippolytus has left behind in his flight. This is at once recognized by Theseus, who flies into a wild passion of horror, rage, and bitter scorn. He vows dire vengeance upon his son, which shall reach him wherever he may flee; and ends by claiming from Neptune, as the third of the boons once granted him, that the god will destroy Hippolytus.

Third choral interlude.—The chorus reflects upon the precarious life of man, lauds the golden mean, and prays for the blessings of life without conspicuous fame. No man can hope for continued security in life, when such a youth as Hippolytus is driven off by Theseus' ire. It laments that no longer will his steeds, his lyre, his wonted woodland haunts know the well-loved youth; and reproaches the gods that they did not better screen their guiltless votary.

Third choral interlude.—The chorus complains that while nature is so careful to maintain the order of the heavenly bodies, the atmospheric phenomena, the seasons, and the productiveness of wealth, for the affairs of men alone she has no care. These go all awry. Sin prospers and righteousness is in distress. Verily, it does not at all profit a man to strive to live uprightly, since all the rewards of life go to the vain and profligate. While the case of Hippolytus is not mentioned, it is clearly in mind throughout.

Exode.—The last words of the chorus are interrupted by the approach of a messenger who hastily inquires for the king. As the latter comes forth from the palace, the messenger announces the death of his son. At the king's request he gives a detailed account of the disaster: how Hippolytus was driving his fiery coursers along the shore, when Neptune sent a monstrous bull from out the sea, which drove the horses to a panic of fear; how the car was at length dashed against a ragged cliff, and Hippolytus dragged, bruised and bleeding, by the maddened horses; how, though yet living, he could not long survive. Theseus expresses pleasure at his son's sufferings, and bids that he be brought into his presence that he may behold his punishment.

The chorus interjects a single strophe, acknowledging Venus as the unrivaled queen of heaven and earth.

Diana now appears to Theseus and reveals to him the whole truth, explaining the infatuation of the queen, the fatal letter, and the wiles of Venus. The father is filled with horror and remorse. Diana tells him that he may yet hope for pardon for his sin, since through the wiles of Venus, which she herself could not frustrate, the deed was done.

Here the dying Hippolytus is borne in by his friends. In his agony he prays for death; but by the voice of his loved goddess he is soothed and comforted. After a touching scene of reconciliation between the dying prince and his father, the youth perishes, leaving Theseus overcome with grief.

Exode.—A messenger, hurrying in, announces to Theseus the death of his son. Theseus receives the news calmly and asks for a detailed account. The messenger relates how Hippolytus had yoked his horses to his car and was driving madly along the highway by the sea, when suddenly the waves swelled up and launched a strange monster in the form of a bull upon the land. This monster charged upon Hippolytus, who fronted the beast with unshaken courage. But in the end the horses became unmanageable through fright, and dragged their master to his death among the rocks. The body of the hapless Hippolytus has been torn in pieces and scattered far and wide through the fields; and even now attendants are bringing these in for burning on the pyre. Theseus laments, not because his son is dead, but because it is through his, the father's, act.

The chorus expatiates upon the fact that the blows of fate fall heavily upon men of exalted condition, but spare the humble. The great Theseus, once so mighty a monarch, but now so full of woe, is an example of this truth. It has not profited him to escape from hades, since now his son has hastened thither.

But now their attention is turned to Phaedra who appears, wailing aloud, and with a drawn sword in hand. She rails at Theseus as the destroyer of his house, weeps over the mangled remains of Hippolytus, confesses to Theseus that her charge against his son was false, and ends by falling upon the sword.

Theseus, utterly crushed by the weight of woe that has fallen upon him, prays only that he may return to the dark world from which he has just escaped. The chorus reminds him that he will find ample time for mourning, and that he should now pay due funeral honors to his son. Whereat Theseus bids all the fragments be hunted out and brought before him. These he fits together as best he can, lamenting bitterly as each new gory part is brought to him.

He ends by giving curt command for the burial of Phaedra, with a prayer that the earth may rest heavily upon her.

THE MAIDENS OF TRACHIN OF SOPHOCLES, AND THE HERCULES OETAEUS OF SENECA

Prologue.—In the courtyard of her palace in Trachin, Deianira recounts to her attendants and the chorus of Trachinian maidens how her husband had won her from the river god, AcheloÜs, and how, during all these years, she has lived in fear and longing for her husband, who has been kept constantly wandering over the earth by those who hold him in their power; and even now he has been for many months absent, she knows not where.

An old servant proposes that she send her son, Hyllus, abroad to seek out his father. This the youth, who enters at this juncture, readily promises to do, especially on hearing from his mother that the oracle declares this is the year in which his father shall end his life,

Or, having this his task accomplished,

Shall, through the coming years of all his life,

Rejoice and prosper.

Prologue.—Hercules, about to sacrifice to Cenaean Jove after having conquered Eurytus, king of Oechalia, recounts at length his mighty toils on earth, and prays that now at last he may be given his proper place in heaven. He dispatches his herald, Lichas, home to Trachin, to tell the news of his triumph, and to conduct the train of captives thither.

Parode, or chorus entry.—The chorus prays to Helios, the bright sun-god, for tidings of Hercules, for Deianira longs for him, and "ever nurses unforgetting dread as to her husband's paths." Hercules is tossed upon the stormy sea of life, now up, now down, but ever kept from death by some god's hands. Deianira should, therefore, be comforted:

For who hath known in Zeus forgetfulness

Of those he children calls?

Parode, or chorus entry.—The place of the chorus entry, which should be filled by the chorus proper, composed of Aetolian maidens, is taken by the band of captive Oechalian maidens. They bewail their lot and long for death; they dwell upon the utter desolation of their fatherland, and upon the hard-heartedness of Hercules who has laid it waste.

Iole, their princess, joins in their lamentations, recalls the horrors of her native city's overthrow, and looks forward with dread to her captivity.

First episode.—Deianira confides to the chorus her special cause for grief: she feels a strong presentiment that Hercules is dead; for, when he last left home, he left a tablet, as it were a will, disposing of his chattels and his lands,

and fixed a time,

That when for one whole year and three months more

He from his land was absent, then 'twas his

Or in that self-same hour to die, or else,

Escaping that one crisis, thenceforth live with life unvexed.

At this moment, however, a messenger enters and announces the near approach of Hercules accompanied by his spoils of victory.

First episode.—During the interval just preceding this episode, the captives have been led to Trachin, Deianira has seen the beauty of Iole, and learned of Hercules' infatuation for her. She has by this news been thrown into a mad rage of jealousy, and counsels with her nurse as to how she may take vengeance upon her faithless husband, while the nurse vainly advises moderation.

The nurse at last suggests recourse to magic, professing herself to be proficient in these arts. This suggests to Deianira the use of that blood of Nessus which the dying centaur had commended to her as an infallible love-charm. She takes occasion to relate at length the Nessus incident. She at once acts upon her decision to use the charm; and speedily, with the nurse's aid, a gorgeous robe is anointed with the blood, and this is sent by Lichas' hand to Hercules.

First choral interlude.—The chorus voices its exultant joy over this glad and unexpected news.

First choral interlude.—The chorus of Aetolian women, who have followed Deianira from her girlhood's home to this refuge in Trachin, now tender to her their sympathy in her present sufferings. They recall all their past intercourse with her, and assure her of their undying fidelity.

This suggests the rarity of such fidelity especially in the courts of kings, and they discourse at large upon the sordidness and selfishness of courtiers in general. The moral of their discourse is that men should not aspire to great wealth and power, but should choose a middle course in life, which only can bring happiness.

Second episode.—Lichas, the personal herald of Hercules, now enters, followed by Iole and a company of captive women. He explains to Deianira how Hercules had been driven on by petty persecutions to slay Iphitus, the son of Eurytus, treacherously; how he had for this been doomed by Zeus to serve Omphale, queen of Lydia, for a year; and how in revenge he has now slain Eurytus, and even now is sending home these Oechalian captives as spoil; Hercules himself is delaying yet a little while in Euboea, until he has sacrificed to Cenaean Jove.

Deianira looks in pity upon the captives praying that their lot may never come to her or hers; and is especially drawn in sympathy to one beautiful girl, who, however, will answer no word as to her name and state.

As all are passing into the palace, the messenger detains Deianira and tells her the real truth which Lichas has withheld: that this seemingly unknown girl is Iole, daughter of Eurytus; that it was not in revenge but for love of Iole that Hercules destroyed her father's house, and that he is now sending her to his own home not as his slave, but mistress, and rival of his wife.

Lichas, returning from the palace, on being challenged by the messenger and urged by Deianira to speak the whole truth, tells all concerning Hercules' love for Iole.

Deianira receives this revelation with seeming equanimity and acquiescence.

Second episode.—Deianira comes hurrying distractedly out of the palace, and relates her discovery as to the horrible and deadly power of the charm which she has sent to her husband.

While she is still speaking, Hyllus rushes in and cries out to his mother to flee from the wrath of Hercules, whose dreadful sufferings, after putting on the robe which his wife had sent to him, the youth describes at length. He narrates also the death of Lichas. The suffering hero is even now on his way by sea from Euboea, in a death-like swoon, and will soon arrive at Trachin.

Deianira, smitten with quick repentance, begs Jupiter to destroy her with his wrathful thunderbolts. She resolves on instant self-destruction, though Hyllus and the nurse vainly try to dissuade her, and to belittle her responsibility for the disaster; and in the end she rushes from the scene, Hyllus following.

Second choral interlude.—The chorus briefly reverts to the battle of AcheloÜs and Hercules for the hand of Deianira.

Second choral interlude.—The chorus, contemplating the changing fates of their prince's house, is reminded of the saying of Orpheus, "that naught for endless life is made." This leads to an extended description of Orpheus' sweet music and its power over all things, both animate and inanimate, and suggests the story of his unsuccessful attempt to regain Eurydice.

Returning to the original theme, the chorus speculates upon the time when all things shall fall into death, and chaos resume her primeval sway.

It is startled out of these thoughts by loud groans, which prove to be the outcries of Hercules, borne home to Trachin.

Third episode.—Deianira tells to the chorus the story of how Nessus, the centaur, had once insulted her, and for this had been slain by Hercules with one of his poisoned arrows; how, also, the centaur in dying had given her a portion of his blood, saying this would be a charm able to restore to her her husband's wandering love. She now resolves to use this charm. She anoints a gorgeous robe with the blood which she has preserved through all these years, and bids Lichas carry this to her lord as a special gift from her. He is to wear it as he offers his sacrifices to Cenaean Jove, Lichas departs upon this mission.

Third episode.—Hercules in his ravings warns Jove to look well to his heavens, since now their defender is perishing. The giants will be sure to rise again and make another attempt upon the skies. He bitterly laments that he, who has overcome so many monsters, must die at last, slain by a woman's hand, and that woman not Juno, nor even an Amazon:

Ah, woe is me,

How often have I 'scaped a glorious death!

What honor comes from such an end as this?

His burning pains coming on again, he cries out in agony, and describes the abject misery and weakness that have come upon him. Are these the shoulders, the hands, the feet, that were once so strong to bear, so terrible to strike, so swift to go? He strives to apprehend and tear away the pest that is devouring him, but it is too deep-hidden in his frame. He curses the day that has seen him weep and beseeches Jove to smite him dead with a thunderbolt.

Alcmena enters, and, while she herself is full of grief, she strives to soothe and comfort her suffering son. He falls into a delirium, and thinks that he is in the heavens, looking down upon Trachin. But soon he awakes, and, realizing his pains once more, calls for the author of his misery, that he may slay her with his own hands.

Hyllus, who has just entered from the palace, now informs his father that Deianira is already dead, and by her own hand; that it was not her fault, moreover, but by the guile of Nessus, that Hercules is being done to death. The hero recognizes in this the fulfilment of an oracle once delivered to him:

By the hand of one whom thou hast slain, some day,

Victorious Hercules, shalt thou lie low.

And he comforts himself with the reflection that such an end as this is meet, for

Thus shall no conqueror of Hercules

Survive to tell the tale.

He now bids Philoctetes prepare a mighty pyre on neighboring Mount Oeta, and there take and burn his body, still in life. Hyllus he bids to take the captive princess, Iole, to wife. He calls upon his mother, Alcmena, to comfort her grief by pride in her great son's deeds on earth, and the noble fame which he has gained thereby.

Third choral interlude.—The chorus prays for the early and safe return of Hercules from where he lingers:

Thence may lie come, yea, come with strong desire,

Tempered by suasive spell

Of that rich unguent, as the monster spake.

Third choral interlude.—The chorus bids all nature mourn the death of Hercules. Verily the earth is bereft of her defender, and there is no one left to whom she may turn if again harassed by monsters. They speculate upon the place of the departed Hercules. Shall he sit in judgment among the pious kings of Crete in hades, or shall he be given a place in heaven? At least on earth he shall live in deathless gratitude and fame.

Fourth episode.—Deianira discovers by experiment, now that it is too late, the destructive and terrible power of the charm which she has sent, and is filled with dire forebodings as to the result.

Her lamentations are interrupted by Hyllus, who comes hurrying in; he charges his mother with the murder of his father, and curses her. He then describes the terrible sufferings that have come upon the hero through the magic robe, and how Hercules, in the madness of pain, has slain Lichas, as the immediate cause of his sufferings. He has brought his father with him from Euboea to Trachin. Deianira withdraws into the palace, without a word, in an agony of grief.

Fourth choral interlude.—The chorus recalls the old oracle that after twelve years the son of Zeus should gain rest from toil, and sees in his impending death the fulfilment of this oracle. They picture the grief of Deianira over her act, and foresee the great changes that are coming upon their prince's house. Fifth episode.—The nurse rushes in from the palace, and tells how Deianira has slain herself with the sword, bewailing the while the sufferings which she has unwittingly brought on Hercules; and how Hyllus repents him of his harshness toward his mother, realizing that she was not to blame.

Fifth choral interlude.—The chorus pours out its grief for the double tragedy. And now it sees Hyllus and attendants bearing in the dying Hercules.

Exode.—Hercules, awaking from troubled sleep, laments the calamity that has befallen him; he chides the lands which he has helped, that now they do not hasten to his aid; and prays Hyllus to kill him with the sword, and so put him out of his misery.

He denounces Deianira because she has brought suffering and destruction upon him which no foe, man or beast, has ever been able to bring. He curses his own weakness, and laments that he must weep and groan like a woman.

He marvels that his mighty frame, which for years has withstood so many monsters, which he recounts at length, can now be so weak and wasted. Reverting to his wife, he bids that she be brought to him that he may visit punishment upon her.

Hyllus informs his father that Deianira has died by her own hand, for grief at what she has unwittingly brought upon her dear lord. It was, indeed, through Nessus' guile that the deed was done.

Hercules, on hearing this, recognizes the fulfilment of the oracle;

Long since it was revealÉd of my sire

That I should die by hand of none that live,

But one who, dead, had dwelt in hades dark.

He exacts an oath of obedience from Hyllus, and then bids him bring his father to Mount Oeta, and there place him upon a pyre for burning. Hyllus reluctantly consents in all but the actual firing of the pyre. The next request is concerning Iole, that Hyllus should take her as his wife. This mandate he indignantly refuses to obey, but finally yields assent. And in the end Hercules is borne away to his burning, while the chorus mournfully chants its concluding comment:

What cometh no man may know;

What is, is piteous for us,

Base and shameful for them;

And for him who endureth this woe,

Above all that live hard to bear.

Exode.—Philoctetes enters, and, in response to the questions of the nurse, describes the final scene on Oeta's top. There a mighty pyre is built, on which Hercules joyfully takes his place. There he reclines, gazing at the heavens, and praying his father, Jupiter, to take him thither, in compensation for his service on the earth. His prayer seems to be answered, and he cries aloud:

"But lo, my father calls me from the sky,

And opens wide the gates. O sire, I come!"

And as he spake his face was glorified.

He presents his famous bow and arrows to Philoctetes, bidding him for this prize apply the torch and light the pyre, which his friend most reluctantly does. The hero courts the flames, and eagerly presses into the very heart of the burning mass.

In the midst of this narrative, Alcmena enters, bearing in her bosom an urn containing the ashes of Hercules. The burden of her lament is that so small a compass and so pitiful estate have come to the mighty body of her son, which one small urn can hold. But when she thinks upon his deeds, her thoughts fly to the opposite pole:

What sepulcher, O son, what tomb for thee

Is great enough? Naught save the world itself.

Then she takes up in quickened measures her funeral song of mourning in the midst of which the deified Hercules, taking shape in the air above, speaks to his mother, bidding her no longer mourn, for he has at last gained his place in heaven.

The chorus strikes a fitting final note, that the truly brave are not destined to the world below:

But when life's days are all consumed,

And comes the final hour, for them

A pathway to the gods is spread

By glory.

THE TROADES OF EURIPIDES, AND THE TROADES OF SENECA

Prologue.—Neptune appearing from the depths of the sea, briefly recounts the story of the overthrow of Troy, which he laments, states the present situation of the Trojan women, dwells upon the especial grief of Hecuba, and places the blame for all this ruin upon Minerva:

But, oh my town, once flourishing, once crowned

With beauteous-structured battlements, farewell!

Had not Minerva sunk thee in the dust,

On thy firm base e'en now thou mightst have stood.

To him appears Minerva, who, though she had indeed helped the Greeks to their final triumph over Troy, had been turned against them by the outrage of Cassandra on the night of Troy's overthrow. She now makes common cause with Neptune, and plans for the harassing of the Greek fleet by storm and flood on the homeward voyage. The Greeks are to be taught a lesson of reverence:

Unwise is he, whoe'er of mortals storms

Beleaguered towns, and crushed in ruins wastes

The temples of the gods, the hallowed tombs

Where sleep the dead; for he shall perish soon.

[The two gods disappear.]

Hecuba, lying prone upon the ground before Agamemnon's tent, gives voice to her sufferings of body and of spirit; laments her accumulated losses of home, friends, station, liberty; blames Helen for all, and calls upon the chorus of captive women to join her in lamentation.

Prologue.—Hecuba bewails the fall of Troy, and draws from it a warning to all who are high in power:

For of a truth did fortune never show

In plainer wise the frailty of the prop

That doth support a king.

She graphically describes the mighty power and mighty fall of her husband's kingdom, and portrays the awe with which the Greeks behold even their fallen foe. She asserts that the fire by which her city has been consumed sprang from her, the brand that she had dreamed of in her dream before the birth of Paris. She dwells horribly upon the death of Priam which she had herself witnessed.

But still the heavenly powers are not appeased.

The captives are to be allotted to the Greek chiefs, and even now the urn stands ready for the lots.

Hecuba next calls upon the chorus of Trojan women to join her in lamenting their fallen heroes, Hector and Priam.

Parode, or chorus entry.—The chorus with Hecuba indulges in speculation as to the place of their future home, speaking with hope of some Greek lands, and deprecating others.

Parode, or chorus entry.—The chorus, under the direction of Hecuba as chorus leader, in true oriental fashion, bewails the downfall of Troy, and in particular the death of Priam and Hector.

First episode.—Talthybius, the herald, enters and announces that the lots have been drawn, and reveals to each captive her destined lord: that Cassandra has fallen to Agamemnon, Andromache to Pyrrhus, Hecuba to Ulysses. At news of this her fate, Hecuba is filled with fresh lamentations, counting it an especial hardship that she should fall to the arch-enemy of her race. The herald also darkly alludes to the already accomplished fate of Polyxena,

At the tomb raised to Achilles doomed to serve.

Hecuba does not as yet catch the import of these words.

Cassandra now enters, waving a torch, and celebrates in a mad refrain her approaching union with Agamemnon. Hecuba remonstrates with her for her unseemly joy; whereupon Cassandra declares that she rejoices in the prospect of the vengeance upon Agamemnon which is to be wrought out through this union. She contrasts the lot of the Greeks and Trojans during the past ten years, and finds that the latter have been far happier; and even in her fall, the woes of Troy are far less than those that await the Greek chieftains. She then prophesies in detail the trials that await Ulysses, and the dire result of her union with Agamemnon:

Thou shalt bear me

A fury, an Erinys from this land.

Hecuba here falls in a faint, and, upon being revived, again recounts her former high estate, sadly contrasts with that her present condition, and shudders at the lot of the slave which awaits her:

Then deem not of the great

Now flourishing as happy, ere they die.

First episode.—Talthybius announces that the shade of Achilles has appeared with the demand that Polyxena be sacrificed upon the hero's tomb.

Enter Pyrrhus and Agamemnon, the former demanding that his father's request be carried out, the latter resisting the demand as too barbarous to be entertained. It is finally agreed to leave the decision to Calchas. He is accordingly summoned, and at once declares that only by the death of the maiden can the Greeks be allowed to set sail for home. And not this alone, but Astyanax also must be sacrificed—hurled from the lofty Scaean tower of Troy.

First choral interlude.—The chorus graphically describes the wooden horse, its joyful reception by the Trojans into the city, their sense of relief from danger, and their holiday spirit; and at last their horrible awakening to death at the hands of the Greeks within the walls.

First choral interlude.—The chorus maintains that all perishes with the body; the soul goes out into nothingness:

For when within the tomb we're laid,

No soul remains, no hov'ring shade.

Like curling smoke, like clouds before the blast,

This animating spirit soon has passed.

The evident purpose of these considerations is to discount the story that Achilles' shade could have appeared with its demand for the death of Polyxena.

Second episode.—The appearance of Andromache with Astyanax in her arms, borne captive on a Grecian car, is a signal for general mourning. She announces her own chief cause of woe:

I, with my child, am led away, the spoil

Of war; th' illustrious progeny of kings,

Oh, fatal change, is sunk to slavery.

Her next announcement comes as a still heavier blow to Hecuba:

Polyxena, thy daughter, is no more;

Devoted to Achilles, on his tomb,

An offering to the lifeless dead, she fell.

Andromache insists that Polyxena's fate is happier than her own; argues that in death there is no sense of misery:

Polyxena is dead, and of her ills

Knows nothing;

while Andromache still lives to feel the keen contrast between her former and her present lot.

Hecuba is so sunk in woe that she can make no protest, but advises Andromache to forget the past and

honor thy present lord,

And with thy gentle manners win his soul;

this with the hope that she may be the better able to rear up Astyanax to establish once more some day the walls and power of Troy.

But the heaviest stroke is yet to fall. Talthybius now enters and announces with much reluctance that Ulysses has prevailed upon the Greeks to demand the death of Astyanax for the very reason that he may grow up to renew the Trojan war. The lad is to be hurled from a still standing tower of Troy. The herald warns Andromache that if she resist this mandate she may be endangering the boy's funeral rites. She yields to fate, passionately caressing the boy, who clings fearfully to her, partly realizing his terrible situation. The emotional climax of the play is reached, as she says to the clinging, frightened lad:

Why dost thou clasp me with thy hands, why hold

My robes, and shelter thee beneath my wings

Like a young bird?

She bitterly upbraids the Greeks for their cruelty, and curses Helen as the cause of all her woe, and then gives the boy up in an abandonment of defiant grief:

Here, take him, bear him, hurl him from the height,

If ye must hurl him; feast upon his flesh:

For from the gods hath ruin fall'n on us.

And now what more can happen? Surely the depth of misfortune has been sounded. In the voice of Hecuba:

Is there an ill

We have not? What is wanting to the woes

Which all the dreadful band of ruin brings?

Second episode.—Andromache appears with Astyanax and recounts a vision of Hector which she has had, in which her dead husband has warned her to hide the boy away beyond the reach of threatening danger. After discussion with an old man as to the best place of concealment, she hides Astyanax in Hector's tomb which is in the near background.

Enter Ulysses, who reluctantly announces that Calchas has warned the Greeks that they must not allow the son of Hector to grow to manhood; for if they do so, the reopening of the Trojan war will be only a matter of time, and the work will have to be done all over again. He therefore asks Andromache to give up the boy to him. Then ensues a war of wits between the desperate mother and the crafty Greek. She affects not to know where the boy is—he is lost. But if she knew, no power on earth should take him from her. Ulysses threatens death, which she welcomes; he threatens torture, which she scorns. She at last states that her son is "among the dead." Ulysses, taking these words at their face meaning, starts off gladly to tell the news to the Greeks, but suddenly reflects that he has no proof but the mother's word. He therefore begins to watch Andromache more narrowly, and discovers that her bearing is not that of one who has put her grief behind her, but of one who is still in suspense and fear. To test her, he suddenly calls to his attendants to hunt out the boy. Looking beyond her he cries: "Good! he's found! bring him to me." Whereat Andromache's agitation proves that the boy is indeed not dead but in hiding. Where is he hid? Ulysses forces her to choose between the living boy and the dead husband; for, unless her son is forthcoming, Hector's tomb will be invaded and his ashes scattered upon the sea. To her frantic prayer for mercy he says:

Bring forth the boy—and pray.

Follows a canticum, in which Andromache brings Astyanax out of the tomb and sets him in Ulysses' sight:

Here, here's the terror of a thousand ships!

and prays him to spare the child. Ulysses refuses, and, after allowing the mother time for a passionate and pathetic farewell to her son, he leads the boy away to his death.

Second choral interlude.—The chorus first tells of the former fall of Troy under Hercules and Telamon; and then refers to the high honors that had come to the city through the translation of Ganymede to be the cupbearer of Jove, and through the special grace of Venus. But these have not availed to save the city from its present destruction.

Second choral interlude.—The chorus discusses the various places to which it may be its misfortune to be carried into captivity. It professes a willingness to go anywhere but to the homes of Helen, Agamemnon, and Ulysses.

Third episode.—MenelaÜs appears, announcing that the Greeks have alotted to him Helen, his former wife, the cause of all this strife, to do with as he will. He declares his intention to take her to Greece, and there destroy her as a warning to faithless wives.

Hecuba applauds this decision, and thinks that at last heaven has sent justice to the earth:

Dark thy ways

And silent are thy steps to mortal man;

Yet thou with justice all things dost ordain.

Helen, dragged forth from the tent at the command of MenelaÜs, pleads her cause. She lays the blame for all upon Hecuba and Priam:

She first, then, to these ills

Gave birth, when she gave Paris birth; and next

The agÉd Priam ruined Troy and thee,

The infant not destroying, at his birth

Denounced a baleful firebrand.

Blame should also fall upon Venus, since through her influence Helen came into the power of Paris.

Hecuba refutes the excuses of Helen. She scouts the idea that Venus brought Paris to Sparta. The only Venus that had influenced Helen was her own passion inflamed by the beauty of Paris:

My son was with surpassing beauty graced;

And thy fond passion, when he struck thy sight,

Became a Venus.

As for the excuse that she was borne away by force, no Spartan was aware of that, no cries were heard. Hecuba ends by urging MenelaÜs to carry out his threat. This, he repeats, it is his purpose to do.

Third episode.—Helen approaches the Trojan women, saying that she has been sent by the Greeks to deck Polyxena for marriage with Pyrrhus, this being a ruse to trick the girl into an unresisting preparation for her death. This news Polyxena, though mute, receives with horror.

Andromache bitterly cries out upon Helen and her marriages as the cause of all their woe. But Helen puts the whole matter to this test:

Count this true,

If 'twas a Spartan vessel brought me here.

Under the pointed questions of Andromache she gives up deception, and frankly states the impending doom of Polyxena to be slaughtered on Achilles' tomb, and so to be that hero's spirit bride. At this the girl shows signs of joy, and eagerly submits herself to Helen's hands to be decked for the sacrificial rite.

Hecuba cries out at this, and laments her almost utter childlessness; but Andromache envies the doomed girl her fate.

Helen then informs the women that the lots have been drawn and their future lords determined; Andromache is to be given to Pyrrhus, Cassandra to Agamemnon, Hecuba to Ulysses.

Pyrrhus now appears to conduct Polyxena to her death, and is bitterly scorned and cursed by Hecuba.

Third choral interlude.—The chorus sadly recalls the sacred rites in Troy and within the forests of Mount Ida, and grieves that these shall be no more. They lament the untimely death of their warrior husbands, whose bodies have not received proper burial rites, and whose souls are wandering in the spirit-world, while they, the hapless wives, must wander over sea to foreign homes. They pray that storms may come and overwhelm the ships, and especially that Helen may not live to reach the land again.

Third choral interlude.—The chorus enlarges upon the comfort of company to those in grief. Hitherto they have had this comfort; but now they are to be scattered, and each must suffer alone. And soon, as they sail away, they must take their last, sad view of Troy, now but a smouldering heap; and mother to child will say, as she points back to the shore:

See, there's our Troy, where smoke curls high in air,

And thick, dark clouds obscure the distant sky.

Exode.—Enter Talthybius, with the dead body of Astyanax borne upon the shield of Hector. He explains that Pyrrhus has hastened home, summoned by news of insurrection in his own kingdom, and has taken Andromache with him. He delivers Andromache's request to Hecuba that she give the boy proper burial, and use the hollow shield as a casket for the dead.

Hecuba and the chorus together weep over the shield, which recalls Hector in his days of might, and over the poor, bruised body of the dead boy, sadly contrasting his former beauty with this mangled form. They then wrap it in such costly wrappings as their state allows, place him upon the shield, and consign him to the tomb.

Talthybius then orders bands of men with torches to burn the remaining buildings of Troy; and in the light of its glaring flames and with the crashing sound of its falling walls in their ears, Hecuba and her companions make their way to the waiting ships, while the messenger urges on their lagging steps.

Exode.—The messenger relates with much detail to Hecuba, Andromache and the rest, the circumstances of the death of Astyanax and Polyxena: how crowds of Greeks and Trojans witnessed both tragedies, how both sides were moved to tears at the sad sight, and how both victims met their death as became their noble birth.

Andromache bewails and denounces the cruel death of her son, and sadly asks that his body be given her for burial; but she is told that this is mangled past recognition.

But Hecuba, having now drained her cup of sorrow to the dregs, has no more wild cries to utter; she almost calmly bids the Grecians now set sail, since nothing bars their way. She longs for death, complaining that it ever flees from her, though she has often been so near its grasp.

The messenger interrupts, and bids them hasten to the shore and board the ships, which wait only their coming to set sail.

THE AGAMEMNON OF AESCHYLUS, AND THE AGAMEMNON OF SENECA

Prologue.—A watchman, stationed upon the palace roof at Argos, laments the tedium of his long and solitary task; and prays for the time to come when, through the darkness of the night, he shall see the distant flashing of the beacon fire, and by this sign know that Troy has fallen and that Agamemnon is returning home. And suddenly he sees the gleam for which so long he has been waiting. He springs up with shouts of joy and hastens to tell the queen. At the same time he makes dark reference to that which has been going on within the palace, and which must now be hushed up.

Prologue.—The ghost of Thyestes coming from the lower regions recites the motif of the play: how he had been most foully dealt with by Agamemnon's father, Atreus, and how he had been promised revenge by the oracle of Apollo through his son Aegisthus, begotten of an incestuous union with his daughter. The ghost announces that the time for his revenge is come with the return of Agamemnon from the Trojan war, and urges Aegisthus to perform his fated part.

Parode, or chorus entry.—A chorus of twelve Argive elders sings of the Trojan War, describing the omens with which the Greeks started on their mission of vengeance. They dwell especially upon the hard fate which forced Agamemnon to sacrifice his daughter. And in this they unconsciously voice one of the motives which led to the king's own death.

Parode, or chorus entry.—The chorus of Argive women complains of the uncertain condition of exalted fortune, and recommends the golden mean in preference to this.

First episode.—Clytemnestra appears with a stately procession of torch-bearers, having set the whole city in gala attire, with sacrificial incense burning on all the altars. The chorus asks the meaning of this. Has she had news from Troy? The queen replies that this very night she has had news, and describes at length how the signal fires had gleamed, and thus the news had leaped from height to height, all the long way from Troy to Argos.

And this sure proof and token now I tell thee,

Seeing that my lord hath sent it me from Troy.

She expresses the hope that the victors in their joy will do nothing to offend the gods and so prevent their safe return:

May good prevail beyond all doubtful chance!

For I have got the blessing of great joy.

With these words she covers up the real desires of her own false heart, while at the same time voicing the principle on which doom was to overtake the Greeks.

The chorus receives Clytemnestra's news with joy and prepares to sing praises to the gods, as the queen with her train leaves the stage.

First episode.—Clytemnestra, conscious of guilt, and fearing that her returning husband will severely punish her on account of her adulterous life with Aegisthus, resolves to add crime to crime and murder Agamemnon as soon as he comes back to his home. She is further impelled to this action by his conduct in the matter of her daughter, Iphigenia, and by his own unfaithfulness to her during his long absence. Throughout this scene the nurse vainly tries to dissuade her.

Clytemnestra is either influenced to recede from her purpose by the nurse, or else pretends to be resolved to draw back in order to test Aegisthus who now enters. In the end, the two conspirators withdraw to plan their intended crime.

First choral interlude.—The chorus sings in praise of Zeus, who has signally disproved the skeptic's claim that

The gods deign not to care for mortal men

By whom the grace of things inviolable

Is trampled under foot.

The shameful guilt of Paris is described, the woe of the wronged MenelaÜs, and the response of all Greece to his cry for vengeance. But, after all, the chorus is in doubt as to whether the good news can be true—when a herald enters with fresh news.

First choral interlude.—The chorus sings in praise of Apollo for the victory over Troy. To this are added the praises of Juno, Minerva, and Jove. In the end the chorus hails the approach of the herald Eurybates.

Second episode.—The herald describes to the chorus the complete downfall of Troy, which came as a punishment for the sin of Paris and of the nation which upheld him in it. At the same time the sufferings of the Greeks during the progress of the war are not forgotten. Clytemnestra, entering, prompted by her own guilty conscience, bids the herald tell Agamemnon to hasten home, and take to him her own protestation of absolute faithfulness to him:

who has not broken

One seal of his in all this length of time.

The herald, in response to further questions of the chorus, describes the great storm which wrecked the Greek fleet upon their homeward voyage.

Second episode.—Eurybates announces to Clytemnestra the return and approach of Agamemnon, and describes the terrible storm which overtook the Greeks upon their homeward voyage. At the command of the queen victims are prepared for sacrifice to the gods, and a banquet for the victorious Agamemnon. At last the captive Trojan women headed by Cassandra are seen approaching.

Second choral interlude.—The chorus sings of Helen as the bane of the Trojans:

Dire cause of strife with bloodshed in her train.

And now

The penalty of foul dishonor done

To friendship's board and Zeus

has been paid by Troy, which is likened to a man who fosters a lion's cub, which is harmless while still young, but when full grown "it shows the nature of its sires," and brings destruction to the house that sheltered it.

Second choral interlude.—A chorus of captive Trojan women sings the fate and fall of Troy; while Cassandra, seized with fits of prophetic fury, prophesies the doom that hangs over Agamemnon.

Third episode.—Agamemnon is seen approaching in his chariot, followed by his train of soldiers and captives. The chorus welcomes him, but with a veiled hint that all is not well in Argos. Agamemnon fittingly thanks the gods for his success and for his safe return, and promises in due time to investigate affairs at home.

Clytemnestra, now entering, in a long speech of fulsome welcome, describes the grief which she has endured for her lord's long absence in the midst of perils, and protests her own absolute faithfulness to him. She explains the absence of Orestes by saying that she has intrusted him to Strophius, king of Phocis, to be cared for in the midst of the troublous times. She concludes with the ambiguous prayer:

Ah Zeus, work out for me

All that I pray for; let it be thy care

To look to that thou purposest to work.

Agamemnon, after briefly referring to Cassandra and bespeaking kindly treatment for her, goes into the palace, accompanied by Clytemnestra.

Third episode.—Agamemnon comes upon the scene, and, meeting Cassandra, is warned by her of the fate that hangs over him; but she is not believed.

Third choral interlude.—The chorus, though it sees with its own eyes that all is well with Agamemnon, that he is returned in safety to his own home, is filled with sad forebodings of some hovering evil which it cannot dispel.

Third choral interlude.—Apropos of the fall of Troy, the chorus of Argive women sings the praises of Hercules whose arrows had been required by fate for the destruction of Troy.

Exode.—Clytemnestra returns and bids Cassandra, who still remains standing in her chariot, to join the other slaves in ministering at the altar. But Cassandra stands motionless, paying no heed to the words of the queen, who leaves the scene saying:

I will not bear the shame of uttering more.

Cassandra now descends from her chariot and bursts into wild and woeful lamentations. By her peculiar clairvoyant power she foresees and declares to the chorus the death of Agamemnon at the hands of Clytemnestra and Aegisthus, as well as the manner of it; she also foretells the vengeance which Orestes is destined to work upon the murderers. Her own fate is as clearly seen and announced, as she passes through the door into the palace.

Soon the chorus hears the death cry of Agamemnon, that he is "struck down with deadly stroke." They are faint-heartedly and with a multiplicity of counsel discussing what it is best to do when Clytemnestra, with blood-stained garments and followed by a guard of soldiers, enters to them from the palace. The corpses of Agamemnon and Cassandra are seen through the door within the palace. The queen confesses, describes, and exults in the murder of her husband. The chorus makes elaborate lamentation for Agamemnon, and prophesies that vengeance will light on Clytemnestra. But she scorns their threatening prophecies. In the end Aegisthus enters, avowing that he has plotted this murder and has at last avenged his father, Thyestes, upon the father of Agamemnon, Atreus, who had so foully wronged Thyestes. The chorus curses him and reminds him that Orestes still lives and will surely avenge his father.

Exode.—Cassandra, either standing where she can see within the palace, or else by clairvoyant power, reports the murder of Agamemnon, which is being done within.

Electra urges Orestes to flee before his mother and Aegisthus shall murder him also. Very opportunely, Strophius comes in his chariot, just returning as victor from the Olympic games. Electra intrusts her brother to his care, and betakes her own self to the altar for protection.

Electra, after defying and denouncing her mother and Aegisthus, is dragged away to prison and torture, and Cassandra is led out to her death.

Clyx.com