THE 'AGAMEMNON' AND < TRACHINIJE* 19 



of dramatic scenes of the most perfect kind, ending in a climax 

 far finer than that of the e Agamemnon.' Yet the translations 

 of the l Agamemnon ' outnumber those of the c Choephoroi ' 

 perhaps by ten to one, precisely because the l Agamemnon ' is 

 as much a poem as a drama, while the ' Choephoroi ' is above all 

 things a play. 



One of Sophocles' great plays, The Trachinian Virgins,' has 

 met with injustice owing to the same cause. F. W. Schlegel 

 treats this tragedy, recounting the death of Deianira and 

 Heracles, with positive contempt, and the general impression 

 seems to be that as a work of art it is inferior to the other 

 plays of Sophocles. A translation by Professor Lewis Camp- 

 bell is obviously intended to enable the English reader to 

 compare the three great heroines of Sophocles, and it may 

 be said that no previous translator has shown so keen a sym- 

 pathy with the womanly qualities of Antigone, Electra, and 

 Deianira. It may be granted that many readers will find the 

 story of Deianira and Heracles somewhat dull, whereas the 

 histories of Antigone and Electra cannot fail to move all who 

 are not insensible. If, however, the three tragedies were put 

 upon the stage, the verdict as to their relative merits might not 

 improbably be reversed ; it would certainly be much modified. 

 The noble figure of Antigone would, as was proved by Helen 

 Faucit, command our deepest reverence and admiration ; the 

 devotion of Electra to her father, and, above all, her love for 

 Orestes, would perhaps touch the spectator even more than the 

 heroism of Antigone ; but seen on the stage the gentle and 

 noble Deianira, wrecked by her very love and simplicity, would 

 sway our hearts with sweeter and surer touch than either the 

 stern devotee or the vengeful daughter plotting her mother's 

 murder. Antigone is almost above the earth, and the object for 

 which she sacrifices her life and her love is one which to us 

 nowadays savours of superstition. Electra, if she loved her 

 father and brother dearly, yet hated her mother with a rancour 

 which seen on the stage would repel not only would her en- 

 trance, squalid and full of hate as of grief, be unprepossessing, 

 but her final appearance would be most horrible as she listened 

 to the murder of her mother, and urged the striking of another 

 blow. Yet almost every educated English man or woman has 



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