Evening star., 1927-12-11
CONTINUED from Third Pagel

fa7tChed OF as ConCuDlneS LbF the toi
ss';eTurs One after another they pas
before uS-Cassa ndra, Andromache
Helen. Hecuha there is no action onl,
feeling: it is as If hearts and no
bodies were nut upon the stage. Th'
pageant Of victory ends with a soil
Hsry old woman holding a dead chil'
IN her arms, and summing up in her
self all the sorrows of humanity.
At the outset posedon. sod of th'
sea. strikes the note of the play.
How are ye blind.
Ye treaders down of cities, We that
cast
Temples to dcsolation and lay
waste
Tomhs the untroddcn sanctuaries
The ancient dead: yourselves so
soon to die.
eve are using the tranSlations o
Gilbert Murray. through whose Geniu;
Euripides has become our cotempo
larvD
None the less. Talthybius comes tC
take Andromache, the widow Of Hec
tor. and his sister. the proud virgin
prophecies CaSsandra. to their new
masters among the Greeks. Even Hec
haired mother of Hector, must pass to
the Greeks aS a slave. She mourns
almost insanely:
Beat. heat the crownless head.
Rend the cheek till the tears run
rcd,
A lying man and a pitiless
Shall be lord of me.
Oh / VIII think of things gone
long ago.
And weave them to a song.
Q thou whose wound was deep
est,
Thou that my children keepest,
Priam, Priam. O age-worn king,
Gather me where thou sleepest.
Andromache tries to comfort her
with the thought OF suicide.
Hecuba reproves her: let her. in
stead of seeking death, take her in
FAINT son Astyanax into Greece anG
rear him in the hope that he may
some day restore his fallen city. But
at that moment Talthybius returns tc
say that the council of the Greeks
for the security of Hellas, has decided
that AstyanaX must die.
'Tis their will
Thy son +. from this crested wal
OF Troy be dashed, and die.
and Andromache, holding the child
in her arms. bids him farewell.
At that moment Menelaus comes
looking for Helen:
Ho.
Ye soldiers. Up into the cham
bers where
She croucheth. Grip the long,
blood-reeking hair,
And drag her to mine eyes.
x x *
Hecuba, sensing murder in his an
CRY tones, rejoices with the fierceness
of a woman at bay, and thanks her
vague Euripidean god for the ven,
geance which seems at hand:
Thou deep Base of the World, and
thou high Throne
Above the world, whoe'er thou
art. unknown
And hard of surmise, Chain of
Things that be,
Or Reason of our Reason; God,
20 thee
! lift my praise, seeing the silent
road
That bringeth justice ere the end
be trod
To all that breathes and dies
/ bless thee, Menelaus, l bless
thee
If thou wilt slay her. only fear
TO see
Her visage, lest she snare thee
and thou fall.
Helen enters, proud. unafraid, dia
gunaikon-goddess among women
Hecuba rails at her:
And coTnpSf fho1l now
Forth, and hast decked thy bosom
and thy brow,
And breathest with thy lord the
same blue air,
Thou evil heart? Low, low. with
ravaged hair,
Rent raiment, and flesh shuddering
and within
Oh, shame at last, not glory for thy
sin;
So face him if thou canst! Lo, ]
have done.
Be true, o King, let Hellas bear the
crown
OF justice. Slay this woman.
But Menelaus is drunk at once with
Helen's beauty; he looks and yields
and bids his slaves place her in "some
chambered galley. where she may sal
the seas" And as Hecuba mourns
"A lover once. will always love
again." and Helen moves in beauty tC
some perfumed bed, Talthybius enters
bearing the dead body of Hector's
child. And the play ends as Hecuba
blind with tears. swathes the mangle6
babe in burial robes, and speaks to il
in lines realistic even in their senti
ment:
All, what death has found thee,
little one!
Ye tender arms, the same dear
mould have We
As his. And dear proud lips,
80 full of hope
and closed forever. What false
words We said
At daybreak, when we crept into
my bed,
Called me kind names, and prom
ised Grandmother.
When thou art dead, will cut
close my hair
And lead out all the captains to
ride by thy tomb"
Glory of Phrygian raiment, which
my thought
Kept for thy bridal day with
some far-sought
Queen Of the East, folds thee for
evermore. =.
And over the scene Of desolation the
tones of the chorus float in melan
choly song:
Beat. beat thine head
Beat with the wailing chime
OF hands lifted in time
Beat and bleed for the dead,
Woe is me, for the dead,
x X X
The Feminist.
Here il all the power Of Shake
speare. without his range and sub
tlety, but with a social passion tha
moves us as nothing in all moderi
drama moves us, except the dyiny
Lear. This IS man strong enough
10 speak out, brave enough. in tn
very midst Of war. to show it's fulfil
bestiality; brave enough 10 show III