The Tragedies of Euripides, Volume I | Page 2

took place B.C. 406.
The inferiority of our author to the greater tragedians, prevents our
feeling much desire to enter upon the respective merits and demerits of
his several plays, especially as we are completely anticipated by
Schlegel, with whose masterly analysis every reader ought to be
acquainted. Nevertheless, a few general remarks may, perhaps, be not
wholly unprofitable.
It has been truly remarked, that tragedy, in no small degree, owed its
downfall to Euripides. Poetry was gradually superseded by rhetoric,
sublimity by earnestness, pathos by reasoning. Thus, Iphigenia and
Macaria give so many good reasons for dying, that the sacrifice appears
very small, and a modern wag in the upper regions of the theatre would,
at the end of the speech of the latter heroine, almost have exclaimed,
"Then why don't you die?"
It has been said, that our poet drew the characters of life as he found
them, but bad as his characters are, they exhibit only a vulgar
wickedness. Unable to portray a Clytæmnestra, he revels in the
continual paltriness of a Menelaus or Ulysses. As if he took a delight in
the black side of humanity, he loves to show the strength of false
reasoning, of sophistry antagonistic to truth, and of cold expediency in
opposition to the natural feelings of humanity. From a similar reason,

his occasional attempts at comedy degenerate into mere farce. We
question whether the scene between Death and Apollo in the "Alcestis,"
could be surpassed in vulgarity, even by the modern school of English
dramatists, while his exaggerations in the minor characters are scarcely
to be surpassed by the lowest writer of any period.
Under Euripides, the stage began gradually to approximate more
closely to the ordinary and, at that time, debased character of Athenian
society. A contempt for the Lacedæmonians, a passionate taste for the
babbling and trickery of the forum, and an attempt to depreciate the
social position and influence of the weaker sex, form the most
unamiable features of this change. Yet we must allow, that if Euripides
has reveled in the amiabilities of a Melanippe or a Phædra, in the gentle
revenge of a Medea or Hecuba, he has at the same time given us an
Alcestis, the only real example of genuine conjugal affection on the
Greek stage.
Nor must we forget that Euripides is a greater admirer of nature, a more
complete delineator of her workings, than the two greater tragedians.
He has more of illustrative philosophy, more of regard to the objects of
the animated creation, the system of the universe, than his greater rivals
exhibit. He is, as Vitruvius has justly styled him, a "stage-philosopher."
Did we possess a larger acquaintance with the works of Parmenides,
Empedocles, and other early cosmogonists, we should perhaps think
less of his merits on this head: as it is, the possession of some such
fragments of our poet makes us deeply regret the loss of the plays
themselves.
But his very love for the contemplation of nature has in no small degree
contributed to the mischievous skepticism promulgated by our poet. In
early times, when a rural theogony was the standard of belief, when
each star had its deity, each deity its undisputed, unquestioned
prerogative and worship, there was little inclination, less opportunity,
for skepticism. Throughout the poetry of Hesiod, we find this feeling
ever predominant, a feeling which Virgil and Tibullus well knew how
to appreciate. Even Euripides himself, perhaps taught by some
dangerous lessons at home, has expressed his belief that it is best "not

to be too clever in matters regarding the Gods."[2] A calm retreat in the
wild, picturesque tracts of Macedonia, might have had some share in
reforming this spoiled pupil of the sophists. But as we find that the too
careful contemplation of nature degenerates into superstition or
rationalism in their various forms, so Euripides had imbibed the taste
for saying startling things,[3] rather than wise; for reducing the
principles of creation to materialism, the doctrines of right and wrong
to expediency, and immutable truths to a popular system of question
and answer. Like the generality of sophists, he took away a received
truth, and left nothing to supply its place; he reasoned falsehood into
probability, truth into nonentity.
At a period when the Prodico-Socratic style of disputing was in high
fashion, the popularity of Euripides must have been excessive. His
familiar appeals to the trifling matters of ordinary life, his characters all
philosophizing, from the prince to the dry-nurse, his excellent reasons
for doing right or wrong, as the case might be, must have been
inestimably delightful to the accommodating morals of the Athenians.
The Court of Charles the Second could hardly have derived more
pleasure from the writings of a Behn or a Hamilton, than these
unworthy descendants of Codrus must