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The Tragedies of Euripides, Volume I. by Euripides
page 7 of 595 (01%)
can scarcely be ascertained, but it is more than certain that they
practically illustrated its principles. At least, the Sicilians were so
fond of our author, that a few of the unfortunate survivors of the
Syracusan disaster, were enabled to pick up a living by quoting such
passages of our author as they had learned by heart. A compliment paid to
few living dramatists in our days!

In dramatic conduct, Euripides is at an even greater disadvantage with
Æschylus and Sophocles. The best characters of the piece are often the
least employed, as in the instance of Macaria in the "Heraclidæ," while the
play is dwindled away with dull, heavy dirges, and the complaints of senile
childishness. The chorus, as Aristotle[4] has remarked, is most
unfortunately independent of the plot, although the finest poetry is
generally to be found in the lyric portions of our author's plays. In fact,
Euripides rather wanted management in employing his resources, than the
resources themselves. An ear well attuned to the harmony of verse, a
delicate perception of the graceful points of language, and a finished
subtilty in touching the more minute feelings and impulses of the mind,
were all thrown away either upon bad subjects or worse principles. There is
no true tragedy in Euripides, He is a melodramatist, but not according to
the modern acceptation. His plays might end either happily or the reverse.
A deity conveniently brought in, the arrival of a messenger, however
unexpectedly, together with a liberal allowance for a cowardly revenge upon
the vanquished--these are the Euripidean elements for giving a tragic end
to a play. Nay, so great is the prodigality of slaughter throughout his
dramas, that we can but imagine morbid cruelty to have formed a
considerable ingredient in the disposition of Euripides. Even his pathos is
somewhat tinctured with this taste for painful images. As we have beheld in
our own times a barbarian alternately glut his sight with executions, and
then shed floods of tears, and sink into idiot despondency; so the poetry
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