“Oh! as soon as he came, he went up to Æschylus and kissed him on the cheek, and took him by the hand. He yielded the throne, he said, to Æschylus; but if Euripides came off best, he should contest it with him.”
“Well, what is going to be done?”
“There will be a trial.”
“Who is to be judge?”
“Ah! there’s the difficulty. Wise men, you see, are not so plenty. Even with the Athenians Æschylus didn’t get on very well. However they have made your master judge. He is supposed to know all about it.”
I have tried to give some idea of the first, the farcical half of the play. It is possible to appreciate the fun, though much of its flavor has evaporated, and there are many strokes of humor which, for one reason or another, it has not been possible to reproduce. The second half is a series of subtle literary criticisms on the language, style, dramatic construction, and ruling sentiment of the two poets. No one can appreciate it who is not familiar with their works; no version is possible that would give any that idea of it. One specimen I shall attempt. Æschylus finds fault with the prosaic matter-of-fact character of his rival’s opening scenes. “I’ll spoil them all with a flask,” he says. “Go on and repeat whichever you please.” Euripides begins with the opening lines of the Danaides (a play now lost).
“Aegyptus—so the common story runs—
Crossed with his fifty sons the ocean plains,
And reaching Argos—”
“Lost a little flask.”
puts in Æschylus.
He begins again with the opening lines of another
“Cadmus, Agenor’s offspring, setting sail
From Sidon’s city—”
“Lost a little flask.”