the main stream or from its branches, the result was the same; and the heroes who espoused the cause of Menelaus were most of them suited for transplantation to the theatre.

Two of the ten plays which have Troy for their subject, directly or indirectly, have been noticed in a previous chapter; another, the "Cyclops," will be examined presently. The "Rhesus," being of uncertain authorship, will be passed over. Of the seven that remain, only a brief sketch can be given. The Two Iphigenias, indeed, might alone suffice to show how well fitted for the genius of their poet was the Lay of Achilles or the Wanderings of Ulysses.

The fire that consumed Priam's capital is still smouldering when the action of the "Hecuba" and the "Trojan Women" begins. The scene of the former of these two tragedies is placed in the Thracian Chersonesuss-now the Crimea. The Chorus is composed of Trojan captive women, a few days before the subjects, now the fellow-prisoners, of their queen. In the centre of the stage stands Agamemnon's tent, in a compartment of which Hecuba and her attendants are lodged. The prologue is spoken by her youngest son Polydorus, whom she supposes to be living, but who has been foully murdered by his guardian Polymnestor, the Thracian king. His ghost hovers over the tent, and after informing the audience of the manner of his death, he vanishes just as his aged mother enters on the stage. One more woe is soon imparted to Hecuba by the Chorus. The shade of Achilles has appeared in glittering armour on his tomb, and demanded a

victim. Again the Greek ships are delayed; again a virgin must be sacrificed before their anchors can be weighed. The young life of Iphigenia was required before the host could leave Aulis; and now the blood of Polyxena, Priam's youngest daughter, must be shed before the Grecian prows can be turned homewards.

The sacrifice of the daughter is over, when the fate of her son is reported to the miserable mother. An old attendant has been sent to fetch water from the sea, with which Hecuba will bathe-"not for the bridal bed, but for the tomb"-the dead body of Polyxena. The corpse of Polydorus is found by the attendant cast on the sea-beach by the wave. The sum of her woes is now complete. Her other sons have fallen in the war ; no daughter remains to her except the prophetess Cassandra, who is herself the bondwoman of Agamemnon; and now her last stay is rudely torn from her-her youngest born, her Benjamin, lies dead on the sands. One hope alone remains for her to cherish the hope of revenge on the murderer of her boy; and it is speedily gratified. The treacherous guardian comes to the Grecian camp, is inveigled by Hecuba into the tent, and thence thrust forth eyeless and with bleeding visage, by the infuriated mother and her attendants. This, "if not victory, is at least revenge."

The merits of this tragedy have been much canvassed. The plot has been pronounced monstrous, overcharged with woe, and, besides, unskilfully split into two unconnected portions. The immolation of Polyxena and the murder of Polydorus have, it is alleged, no neces

sary connection with each other. There might have been two plays made out of this single one- -the first concluding with the death of the daughter, the second with the vengeance taken for the son. It may be so ; but was that the view of the story taken by Euripides? May he not have said to objectors, the continuity of my play lies not where you look for it, but in the character of the person from whom it is named? The double murder of her children is a mere incident in the action; the unity is to be found in her strong will. Old, feeble, and helpless as she is, the mind of the exqueen of Troy is never clouded. Suffering even lends her new force to act; the deeper her woe the more clearly she perceives that all help is vain if it come not from her own dauntless spirit. It is the tragedy of Hecuba, not of Polyxena or Polydorus.

English readers may find an excuse, if one be needed, of which ancient objectors could not avail themselves. For is not the Hecuba of Euripides near of kin, as a dramatic character, to the Queen Margaret of Shakespeare? Her also accumulated woes strengthen even when they seem to crush. She also is made childless ; she, like her Greek prototype, is a widow and discrowned. Yet with what vigour and what disdain does she to the last look down upon her Ulysses, the crafty Duke of Gloucester, and her Agamemnon, the voluptuous Edward! The description of Polyxena's sacrifice is among the most beautiful and pathetic pictures in the Athenian drama. The herald reports to Hecuba how bravely her daughter has met her doom :

"The assembled host of Greece before the tomb
Stood in full ranks at this sad sacrifice-
Achilles' son, holding the virgin's hand

On the mound's summit: near to him I stood;
Of chosen youths an honourable train

Were ready there her strugglings to restrain."

When silence has been proclaimed through the host, and libations poured to the shade of Achilles, Pyrrhus spoke these words :

"O son of Peleus, O my father,

Accept my offering, soothing to the dead;
Drink this pure crimson stream of virgin-blood,
Loose all our cables, fill our sails, and grant
Swift passage homeward to the Grecian host."

The people joined in the prayer: Pyrrhus drew from its scabbard his golden sword, and

"At his nod

The noble youths stept forth to hold the maiden,

Which she perceiving, with these words addressed them: 'Willing I die; let no hand touch me; boldly

To the uplifted sword I hold my neck.

You give me to the gods, then give me free.'

Loud the applause, then Agamemnon cried:

'Let no man touch her :' and the youths drew back.
Soon as she heard the royal words, she clasped
Her robe, and from her shoulder rent it down,
And bared her snow-white bosom, beauteous
Beyond the deftest sculptor's nicest art.

Then bending to the earth her knee, she said—
Ear never yet has heard more mournful words-
'If 'tis thy will, young man, to strike this breast,
Strike; or my throat dost thou prefer, behold
It stretched to meet thy sword.'

Even the "rugged Pyrrhus" is touched with pity, pauses, and at last reluctantly,

"Deep in her bosom plunged the shining steel.

Her life-blood gushed in streams: yet e'en in death,
Studious of modesty, her beauteous limbs
She covered with her robe."

THE TROJAN WOMEN.

The action of this play takes place a few days before that of the "Hecuba." It is not, properly speaking, a drama, for it has scarcely any fable. "It is," says Dean Milman, "a series of pathetic speeches and exquisite odes on the fall of Troy. What can be more admirable, in the midst of all these speeches of woe and sorrow, than the wild outburst of Cassandra into a bridal song, instead of, as Shakespeare describes her, 'shrilling her dolours forth'!"

"A light! a light! rise up, be swift:

I seize, I worship, and I lift

The bridal torches' festal rays,

Till all the burning fane's ablaze!

Hymen, Hymenean king!

Look there! look there! what blessings wait
Upon the bridegroom's nuptial state!

And I, how blest, who proudly ride
Through Argos' streets, a queenly bride!
Go thou, my mother! go!

With many a gushing tear
And frantic shriek of woe.

Wail for thy sire, thy country dear!

A. C. vol. xii.

M