CHAPTER VI. THE MAIDENS OF TRACHIS. THIS play, like many of the Greek tragedies, takes its name not from the plot or the hero, but from the personages of the Chorus-that very important element in the Greek drama. The vague title tells nothing to an English reader, but every Athenian knew, at least by name, the little Thessalian town of Trachis, nestling at the foot of Mount Eta, not far from the famous pass of Thermopyla; and many, like Plutarch, had visited the spot, and seen for themselves what tradition had consecrated as the tomb of Dejanira. But what, after all, mattered to them the title of the play, even if Trachis had been as distant as Babylon, when its subject was perhaps the best-known story in all mythology? Hercules in his wanderings had come to Pleuron in Ætolia. There he saw and fell in love with Dejanira, the king's daughter, whose hand was sought by a suitor of a strange sort the river-god Achelous. This potent rival had, as she tells us, wooed her in various shapes (none of them, it must be confessed, attractive), —now coming as a bull, now as a scaly dragon, now in human form, with a bull's head, "with streams of water flowing from his shaggy beard." Hercules wrestled with Achelous, while the maiden looked on at a prudent distance; and the river-god, after being nearly strangled and losing one of his horns, gave way, and the victor bore away his bride in triumph. On their way homewards they came to the river Evenus, where the centaur Nessus dwelt, who was wont to carry travellers across. Hercules himself breasted the stream, and reached the further bank in safety, carrying his lion's skin, his bow, and the famous arrows which had been dipped in the poison of the hydra. Hearing a cry, he looked back, and saw Nessus offering violence to Dejanira, as he was bearing her across. Ovid-who has told the whole story-describes the prompt vengeance of the hero, as the centaur tries to fly. "Think not, thou," exclaims Hercules— "With all the speed of all thy hoofs to 'scape! My wounds are swifter than my feet!' The act Followed the word, and through his flying back Impelled before his breast the barb outstood. And as he plucked it thence, from either wound Mingled with Lerna's venom gushed the blood, And steeped his mantle's fold. 'Not unavenged,' He muttered,' will I perish!' and to her He would have ravished gave the robe, yet warm With poisoned gore, and bade her with that gift At need assure her husband's wavering love." * Dejanira herself comes forward, and, as the single actor was wont to do in the earlier drama, tells the * Ovid's Metam. ix. ii. (transl. by King.) ' audience the history of her troubles. All these years of her married life, though her husband has treated her kindly, and children have been born to her, she has known little peace of mind. Hercules was constantly absent, fulfilling the labours imposed on him by Eurystheus. He was seldom at Trachis, and saw his children as rarely as "the husbandman who visits his distant fields at seed-time and at harvest." For fifteen months he has now been away from home, and his wife is sorely troubled at heart; for on his last departure he had made disposition of his wealth, and left with her a tablet, on which was engraved an oracle to the effect that the next year would be the crisis of his life-bringing him either death or rest from all his toils. But month after month has passed, and still Dejanira has heard nothing of her husband, and she fears the worst. Then her eldest son Hyllus enters, and bids his mother be of good cheer, for Hercules is even now close at hand, in the island of Euboea, which could almost be seen from Trachis. There, as rumour said, he was making war on the town of Eurytus; and there, at the suggestion of Dejanira, Hyllus sets out, like Telemachus, to obtain more certain tidings of his father. The Chorus enter-young girls from the town of Trachis; and in their opening song they endeavour to console and reassure their neighbour with warm sympathy. They beseech the Sun-god to tell them where the hero is at that moment. "Thou flaming Sun! whom spangled Night, Bright Herald, girt with beaming rays, Or lays his head to rest On Europe or on Asia's breast? His bride, erst won by desperate fray, Sleep never seals those eyes, where woe Oft when the northern blast, Or southern winds unwearied rave, Ye see the ocean cast In quick succession wave on wave; So to whelm old Cadmus' son, Rush redoubled labours on, Thick as round the Cretan shore Enjoyment willed not to bestow When hath not Jove his children made His providential care ?"-(A.) But Dejanira, though she appreciates their kindness, is but half-convinced by the words of the Chorus. They are but young girls, she says, and know little of the sad experiences of a wife and mother. Night after night she has started up in an agony of terror, lest she should be bereaved of the "noblest man on earth;" and that mysterious tablet causes her grave misgivings. Her Suddenly comes a messenger with good news. cules is not only alive, but is on the point of returning home after victory, and has sent his herald Lichas with the captives on before him. Then Lichas himself enters, and behind him follow a train of women, the unfortunate prizes of the war. Dejanira turns eagerly to the herald. "Tell me," she asks, "O dearest of messengers, what I most wish to know,-shall I receive Hercules again alive?" "Yes," is the answer; "I left him alive and strong, and smitten of no |