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 C/3
 
 THE GREEK THEATER 
 AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 ROY C. FLICKINGER, Ph.D. 
 
 Professor of Greek and Latin 
 Northivestern Uni'versiry 
 
 ht'^ 
 
 47808 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO PRESS 
 CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
 
 COPYMCHT 1918 AND I922 By 
 
 The Untveesity of Chicago 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 Published May 1918 
 Second edition November 1922 
 
 Conposed and Printed By 
 
 The University of Chicago Press 
 
 ChicasrOi Illinois, U.S.A. 
 
 lit
 
 MATRI CARAE 
 PIETATIS CAUSA
 
 Red 
 
 ;-"8 8JJ. 
 
 
 Greek, Sir, is like lace; every man gets as 
 much of it as he can. — Dr. Samuel Johnson 

 
 PREFACE 
 
 Prior to the outbreak of the world-war in Europe it seemed 
 that America was about to pass through a period of great popular 
 interest in the drama. With the return of normal activities 
 consequent upon the coming of peace it is to be hoped that this 
 interest may be revived and may continue to grow. So far as 
 such interest is hysterical or manifested by attempts at play- 
 writing on the part of those without training, experience, or 
 natural aptitude it has little to commend it. On the other 
 hand, nothing can be more wholesome than a widespread com- 
 prehension of the origin, history, and basic principles of tragedy 
 and comedy. Thus, we are deeply indebted to the successive 
 scholars who have undertaken to analyze EHzabethan drama and 
 assign to Seneca, the Latin comedians, Aristotle, the Greek 
 playwrights, and the various mediaeval elements their respective 
 shares of influence. But, as the ultimate source of all other 
 dramatic art, the Greeks' contribution, whether in precept or 
 example, must ever occupy a unique position. Accordingly, no 
 effort, however humble, to make the theater and drama of the 
 Greeks more widely known ought to require an apology. 
 
 In the following pages I have tried to do three things : 
 
 First, to elaborate the theory that the peculiarities and con- 
 ventions of the Greek drama are largely explicable by its environ- 
 ment, in the broadest sense of that term. Some aspects of this 
 fundamental proposition have already been developed by others. 
 But, so far as results have been sought in the field of classical 
 drama, it has been done less comprehensively than is here 
 attempted; and the earlier work has been, for the most part, 
 antiquated by the momentous accession of new information 
 during the last twenty-five years. 
 
 Secondly, to emphasize the technical aspect of ancient drama. 
 Technique has largely escaped the attention even of our play- 
 wrights, some of whom attempt to produce plays that will have
 
 X PREFACE 
 
 none. Most of our classical scholars, also, study and teach and 
 edit the ancient dramatists as if they, too, had been equally 
 slipshod. Our handbooks on scenic antiquities and the classical 
 drama have been written from the same point of view. Of late 
 years the Germans have awakened to the real situation, and 
 many of their recent monographs deal with various phases of 
 the subject. Nevertheless, so lately as 191 1 a German dis- 
 sertation began with these words : 
 
 As yet not very many investigations into the technique of the Greek 
 tragedians are available. In addition to the incidental hints that are 
 scattered here and there, especially in the commentaries, two works in this 
 field are above all to be mentioned and they are both very recent : Adolf 
 Gross, Die Stichomythie in der griechischen Tragodie und Komodie (1905), 
 and Friedrich Leo, Der Monolog im Drama (1908).^ 
 
 In what terms, then, ought the indifference, not to say the 
 unawareness, of American scholars with regard to these matters 
 to be characterized ? It is true that quite recently the German 
 pubhcations have caused some attention to be devoted, in this 
 country, to the dramaturgy of the , classical playwrights; but 
 as yet such researches have gained only scant recognition from 
 the generality of classical students. 
 
 Thirdly, to elucidate and freshen ancient practice by modern 
 and mediaeval parallels. This is an old and deeply worked mine, 
 and I am under heavy obligations to my predecessors; but the 
 vein is inexhaustible, and I have striven to keep the point in 
 mind more steadfastly than is sometimes the case. It is of a 
 piece with this to add that I have endeavored to treat the ancient 
 plays as if they were not dead and inert, belonging to a world 
 apart, but as if their authors were men as real as Ibsen or Gals- 
 worthy, who had real problems and met them in a real way. 
 The desirability of this point of view surely ought not to be a 
 matter of question; yet in fact it is exemplified with surprising 
 rareness. To many, Sophocles and Euripides seem to possess 
 scarcely more historicity than the heroes of Greek mythology. 
 
 ' Cf. Hermann Deckinger, Die Darstelhmg der persdnlichen Motive bet Aiscjtylos 
 titid Sophokles (191 1), p. i.
 
 PREFACE xi 
 
 To a varying degree all these aims run afoul of a historic 
 controversy among dramatic critics. In the Poetics Aristotle 
 recognized the distinction between studying tragedy "by itself" 
 and in reference also to the audience (or theater).^ He included 
 ''spectacle" (oi/'ts) or "the equipment of the spectacle" (6 rrjs 
 6\peo)s Koa-fxos) among the six parts which every tragedy must 
 have, but proceeded to declare that "this, though emotionally 
 attractive, is least artistic of the parts and has least to do with 
 the art of poetry, since the power of tragedy exists even apart 
 from a public performance and actors and since, furthermore, it 
 is the art of the costumer (or stage machinist) rather than that 
 of the poet to secure spectacular effects." He granted that 
 "fear and pity may be excited by the spectacle, but they may 
 be excited also by the inner structure of the play, which is the 
 preferable method and is typical of a better poet," etc. "The 
 power of a tragedy," he thought, "may be made manifest by 
 merely reading it." Finally, he pointed out that music and 
 spectacle are just the accessories in which tragedy surpasses epic 
 poetry and that they constitute no inconsiderable addition to 
 its effect by rendering its pleasures most vivid. These citations 
 suffice to show Aristotle's attitude, which was consistently 
 maintained: he believed the spectacle to be one of the indis- 
 pensable elements of drama, but that it ought also to be a 
 comparatively subordinate element. This was an eminently 
 sane position to take, and it would have been well if his suc- 
 cessors had been equally judicious. 
 
 Dr. Spingarn has tried to break down the force of Aristotle's 
 recognition of spectacular effects by saying that he could not 
 "help thinking of plays in connection with their theatrical 
 representation, any more than most of us can think of men and 
 women without clothes. They belong together by long habit 
 and use; they help each other to be what we commonly think 
 them. But he does not make them identical or mutually 
 
 ' Cf. Aristotle Poetics 144908. The other passages cited in this para- 
 graph are ibid. 1449633 and 1450010, 1450617-21, 145361-3, 1462012, and 
 1462014-17.
 
 xii PREFACE 
 
 inclusive."^ In other words, Aristotle had no acquaintance with 
 the "closet-drama," and so did not take it into account. But 
 there is an allowance to be made also on the other side. There 
 is some doubt as to just what Aristotle meant by "spectacle," 
 whether merely "the visible appearance of the actors when got 
 up in character by the costumier" or "scenery, dresses — the 
 whole visible apparatus of the theater." Even if he had the 
 larger meaning in mind he could not have realized its full 
 significance. He knew but a single type of theatrical building, 
 which must therefore have seemed to him as integral a part of 
 dramatic performances as the Greek climate. He could not 
 look down the ages and contrast the simple arrangements of the 
 Greek theater with the varying lighting effects and scenic 
 splendor of modern and intervening types. He could not avoid, 
 then, underestimating the importance of this factor. Further- 
 more, when he states that of the six parts the spectacle has least 
 to do with the art of poetry and is more closely related to the art 
 of the costumer than to that of the poet, he means what he says 
 and no more. As its title indicates, his treatise was concerned 
 with the art of poetry, not with that of dramaturgy. Hence he 
 stressed the factors that dealt with the essence of tragedy rather 
 than those which influenced only its accidental features and 
 external form. Even so, he conceded to the latter elements no 
 negligible value. Considered from the dramaturgical standpoint 
 as well, he must have allowed them a much greater importance. 
 As it happens, Spingarn confines his examination of Aristotle's 
 views to the Poetics, but in the Rhetoric occurs the interesting 
 observation that "on the stage the actors are at present of more 
 importance than the poets. "^ Aristotle did not state that this 
 was the proper relationship, but as a practical man he simply 
 recognized the facts before his eyes. And these words utterly re- 
 pudiate Spingarn's attempt to subvert the obvious impHcation 
 of Aristotle's statements in the Poetics. 
 
 ' Cf . his paper entitled "Dramatic Criticism and the Theatre" in Creative 
 Criticism, p. 56 (1917). 
 
 ' a. Aristotle Rhetoric 1403633 (Jebb's translation). This statement needs 
 to be interpreted in the light of pp. 190 f., below.
 
 PREFACE XIH 
 
 I have given so much space to Aristotle's opinions because 
 Spingarn did. But, after all, it does not greatly matter. Times 
 have changed since Roger Bacon placed the crown of infallibiUty 
 on the Stagirite's brow with the words: "Aristotle hath the same 
 authority in philosophy that the apostle Paul hath in divinity." 
 The investigation of such questions no longer begins and ends 
 with "the master of those that know." 
 
 Nevertheless I conceive Aristotle's position in the present 
 matter to have been a sensible one, though it has oftentimes been 
 sadly disregarded and even flouted. One school has ignored the 
 spectacle as a factor in dramatic criticism. The other school has 
 exalted it to the chief place. In my opinion both attitudes are 
 erroneous. The former party is the older and more numerous. 
 I fancy that most adherents of this view err unconsciously. It 
 is particularly easy in dealing with the dramatic remains of 
 bygone ages to ignore or minimize the effect which the manner of 
 presentation must have exercised and practically to confine one's 
 attention to literary criticism in the narrowest sense of the term. 
 To this tendency classical scholars have been peculiarly prone. 
 But there are many others who are quite aware of the full 
 meaning of the position they occupy. One of these is Spingarn, 
 who roundly declares: "A play is a creative work of the imagina- 
 tion, and must be considered as such always, and as such only.'^^ 
 
 The opposing view seems to have been promulgated first by 
 Castelvetro (1570) and enjoyed no particular popularity until re- 
 cently. It was adopted by the Abbe d'Aubignac in the seven- 
 teenth century, by Diderot in the eighteenth century, by A. W. 
 Schlegel during the first half of the nineteenth century, and by 
 Francisque Sarcey during the latter half. There is no space here 
 to trace the developments of the doctrine; for that the interested 
 reader may consult Spingarn's article. But the general position 
 of the school is as follows: "A play is a story (a) devised to be 
 presented (b) by actors (c) on a stage (d) before an audience."^ 
 
 ' Cf. op. ciL, p. 56. The italics are mine. 
 
 * Cf . Clayton Hamilton, The Theory of the Theatre (1910), p. 3; and J. B. 
 Matthews, North American Review, CLXXXVII (1908), 213 f.: "They believe 
 that the playhouse has now, has had in the past, and must always have a monopoly
 
 xiv PREFACE 
 
 These are not merely important elements or essential elements; 
 they are the prime elements. They outweigh all other considera- 
 tions. It was Diderot's central idea that the essential part of a 
 play was not created by the poet at all, but by the actor. The 
 "closet-drama" they hold up to scorn as a contradiction in 
 terms. The "psychology of the crowd," long before that name 
 for it had been invented, was an integral part of this teaching. 
 The inadequacy of this point of view is aptly expressed in 
 Goethe's words concerning Schlegel : "His criticism is completely 
 one-sided, because in all theatrical pieces he merely regards the 
 skeleton of the plot and arrangement, and only points out small 
 points of resemblance to great predecessors, without troubling 
 himself in the least as to what the author brings forward of 
 graceful life and the culture of a high soul."^ 
 
 To me neither of these theories is satisfactory. I conceive 
 the truth to lie between them. Etymologically the word 
 "drama" means "action," and the practice of the Greek theater 
 for centuries shows that an action carried on by living imper- 
 sonators is involved. Action narrated on a printed page is not 
 enough. I am willing to concede that by a natural extension of 
 meaning a piece which was confessedly written for the closet and 
 which does not and cannot succeed upon the stage may never- 
 theless deserve to be called a "drama." But despite its poetic 
 charm and other merits such a drama qua drama is indeed a vie 
 manquee. On the other hand, against the materialistic school 
 I maintain the self-evident proposition that it is possible for a 
 play to observe all the technical rules arising from the conditions 
 of performance in a theater and before an audience and yet be 
 so lacking in poetry, in truth to Hfe, in inherent worth, as to be 
 
 of the dramatic form. They cannot recognize the legitimacy of a play which is 
 not intended to be played. They know that the great dramatist of every period 
 when the drama has flourished has always planned his plays for performance in the 
 theater of his own time, by the actors of his own time, and before the spectators 
 of his own time"; and The Independent, LXVIII (1910), 187: "In other words, 
 the literary quality is something that may be added to a drama, but which is not 
 essential to its value as a play in the theater itself." 
 
 'Cf. Conversalions with Eckermann, March 28, 1827 (Oxenford's translation).
 
 PREFACE XV 
 
 undeserving of the name of "drama." It is evident, then, that 
 craftsmanship must be the medium of the playwright, not his 
 sole possession. But, in truth, the issue here is more apparent 
 than real. It does not confront us in practice. Both these 
 extremes constitute a negligible fraction of our dramatic litera- 
 ture. Students of the drama in university seminars, dramatic 
 reviewers in the theaters, and playwrights at their desks, at 
 least those who aspire to an enduring fame, alike draw upon the 
 same body of plays for their knowledge of dramatic lore — upon 
 Shakespeare, Euripides, Moliere, Lessing, Sophocles, Ibsen, 
 All these masters had a close and practical knowledge of the 
 theater for which they wrote. On the other hand, they were 
 infinitely more than mere technicians. 
 
 But Spingarn would maintain that the aesthetic value of a 
 play is entirely independent of theatrical conditions or the 
 conventions arising therefrom. "For aesthetic criticism the 
 theater simply does not exist" (cf. op. cit., p. 89). Surely, if 
 Sophocles were writing plays for the present-day public he 
 would find it necessary to dispense with the choral odes which 
 have been at once the delight and the despair of Greek students 
 from his generation to this. Would not such an omission and 
 the consequent readjustments affect the aesthetic value of his 
 tragedies ? Or if one of our dramatists could be set down in a 
 Greek theater of some twenty-four hundred years ago, which 
 was incapable of representing an interior scene and had never 
 contained a box set, certainly his dramas would have to be 
 turned literally inside out before they could be produced at all. 
 Would this recasting in no wise affect their aesthetic criticism ? 
 Spingarn is anxious to protect Aristotle from the imputation of 
 believing that plays and their theatrical representation are 
 "mutually inclusive." But his own position makes them 
 mutually e:i;cluslve. Both theories are extreme and unwarranted. 
 I have already quoted Splngarn's conception of a play. In my 
 opinion, Mr. Galsworthy's putting of the matter is not only 
 broader, but far preferable, for the reason that it duly recognizes, 
 as Splngarn's dictum does not, the facts of existence. He writes:
 
 xvi PREFACE 
 
 " For what is Art but the perfected expression of self in contact 
 with the world ?"^ While this definition takes full cognizance 
 of aesthetic and spiritual values, it yet does not exclude such 
 unmentioned but implicit factors as the medium of expression 
 chosen by the artist, the circumstances under which his work is 
 created and is to be exhibited, the past history and inherited 
 conventions of the genre, etc. On the contrary, it is apparent 
 that Galsworthy would not, after the fashion of the materialistic 
 school, elevate these indispensable, though subordinate, matters 
 to the exclusion of all else. 
 
 It thus appears that I array myself neither with the aesthetic 
 nor with the materialistic school of critics, but occupy middle 
 ground. Nevertheless, my book is devoted, in the main, to a 
 consideration of the more materiahstic and external factors in 
 the development of Greek drama. These factors are different 
 manifestations of Environment, which is a far broader term than 
 Aristotle's Spectacle (6\f/Ls) . I entertain no illusion as to the com- 
 parative importance of environment in the criticism of drama. 
 It is distinctly of secondary importance. If it were possible to 
 study Greek drama from but one point of view, perhaps this 
 would not deserve to be that one. But since no such restriction 
 obtains, it is my contention that a consideration 6i these factors, 
 too, is not merely valuable, but essential to a complete survey 
 of the field. 
 
 It will now be seen why I have no chapter on the "Influence 
 of the Poet." He can hardly be considered a part of his own 
 environment. But there were also other reasons for the omis- 
 sion. Partly it was because every chapter shows the master- 
 mind of the dramatist adapting himself to the situation therein 
 outlined, and partly because an adequate treatment of this topic 
 would involve a presentation of the poets' ideas and teaching — ^a 
 subject which is amply discussed in other treatises and which 
 would swell this volume beyond the limits at my disposal. I 
 am aware that to some the result will seem to give the uninitiated 
 a lopsided view of the Greek drama. For example, a reviewer 
 
 ^ Cf. The Inn of Tranquillity (1912), p. 277.
 
 PREFACE XVU 
 
 of Signor Francesco Guglielmino's Arte e Artifizio nel Dramma 
 Greco (Catania, 19 12) maintains that "for the reader who is not 
 technically a scholar" such a study of dramatic technique 
 presents "a subtly distorted picture."^ To this criticism my 
 reply would be that the standard handbooks are guilty of much 
 the same error in largely ignoring the phase of the subject which 
 is here presented. But however that may be, for the language 
 and style or for the political, moral, ethical, and religious ideas of 
 ancient playwrights, I must recommend such invaluable works 
 as Haigh's Tragic Drama of the Greeks (1896), Decharme's 
 Euripides and the Spirit of His Dramas, Croiset's Aristophanes 
 and the Political Parties at Athens, Legrand's The New Greek 
 Comedy (the last three translated by Loeb, 1906, 1909, and 19 17), 
 Sheppard's Greek Tragedy (19 11), Murray's Euripides and His 
 Age (1913), etc. I must add, however, that to a certain extent 
 these books treat also of the matters discussed in this volume 
 and have freely been consulted. 
 
 In this connection I wish to comment upon another objection. 
 Several of my articles which are incorporated in the present 
 volume antedate Guglielmino's work, and my whole book was 
 blocked out and large parts of it were written before his Arte e 
 Artifizio came to my attention. Nevertheless my plan of treat- 
 ment bears some points of resemblance to his. In particular, he 
 employs the chauvinistic passages in Greek tragedy to show the 
 poets striving for "immediate effects," i.e., deliberately exciting 
 the patriotic sentiments of their audiences. It will be observed 
 that I go a step farther and maintain that the winning of the 
 prize was the ultimate object, to which the other motive was 
 contributory (see pp. 213 if., below). I believe that the tag at 
 the end of Euripides' Iphigenia among the Taurians, Orestes, and 
 Phoenician Maids and the parallels from Greek comedy confirm 
 my interpretation. But the reviewer just cited declares it 
 
 unfair to the draxnatist and his art to forget that he and his audience were 
 
 all Athenians together When the Athenian dramatist, sharing the 
 
 Athenian pride in their country's history or legend, makes a character 
 
 ' Cf. Classical Philology, tX (1914), 96.
 
 xviii PREFACE 
 
 express a common patriotic emotion or belief, we cannot properly caU that 
 flattery of the audience, or an artifice for effect, even though the words 
 were sure to call out rapturous applause. The bit of truth in such a view 
 is so partial as to be false. 
 
 But, as Professor Murray says of the choral ode in the Medea, 
 ''They are not at all the conventional glories attributed by all 
 patriots to their respective countries."^ Moreover, these pas- 
 sages usually rest upon no popular beUef, for the simple reason 
 that they frequently corresponded neither to history nor to 
 traditional mythology, but dealt with incidents that had been 
 newly invented by the poet's fancy or had at least been invested 
 by him with new details and setting. 
 
 At the beginning of the European conflagration in August, 
 1914, London managers hastened to bring out such plays as 
 Drake, Henry V, and An Englishman's Home. Was this merely 
 the prompting of genuinely patriotic fervor on their part, or a 
 misdirected attempt to exploit the emotions of their country- 
 men ? The fact that this class of plays was soon withdraw^- after 
 it became apparent that the public heard enough about tiie war 
 elsewhere without being reminded of it also in the theaters favors 
 the latter explanation. Now, that Aristophanes frankly angled 
 for the suffrages of his audiences cannot be denied. WTien, 
 then, we remember how Euripides began to write for the stage 
 when he was only eighteen, how he had to wait for a chorus in the 
 great contest until he was thirty and then gained only the last 
 place, how his first victory was deferred until 441 B.C. when he was 
 forty-four years of age, how few were the victories that he won, 
 how he courted his pubhc by seeking out unhackneyed themes, 
 by inventing sensational episodes, by reverting to the manner- 
 isms of Aeschylus, by introducing sex problems — when we remem- 
 ber all this, can it be doubted that his chauvinistic passages were 
 part and parcel of the same policy and were deliberately written 
 with the same motives as are revealed in the choice of plays by 
 Sir Herbert Tree and the other London managers of today ? 
 
 But perhaps it may be said that the psychology of managers 
 is utterly unlike that of poets. In reply it would be possible 
 
 ' Cf. Euripides and His Age (1913), p. 89. See p. 217, below.
 
 PREFACE xix 
 
 and sufficient to cite the not infrequent concessions which 
 Shakespeare and many another have made to the groundlings 
 in their audiences, but I prefer to quote the words of a drama- 
 tist who has declared himself on the subject more explicitly. 
 Mr. Henry Arthur Jones has recently written : 
 
 A dramatist is often reproached for producing plays that are obviously 
 below the standard of his aspirations, and obviously below the level of his 
 best work. This assumes that the dramatist is, like the novelist, always 
 free to do his best work. There could not be a greater mistake. The drama- 
 tist is limited and curbed by a thousand conditions which are never suspected 
 
 by the public. The drama will always remain a popular art The 
 
 dramatist who writes plays too far ahead, or too far away from the taste 
 and habits of thought of the general body of playgoers, finds the theatre 
 empty, his manager impoverished, and his own reputation and authority 
 diminished or lost. No sympathy should be given to dramatists, however 
 lofty their aims, who will not study to please the general body of playgoers 
 
 of their days The question to be asked concerning a dramatist is — 
 
 "Does he desire to give the public the best they will accept from him, or 
 does he give them the readiest filth or nonsense that most quickly pays ?" 
 He cannot always even give the pubhc the best that they would accept from 
 him. In sitting down to write a play, he must first ask himself, " Can I get 
 a manager of repute to produce this, and in such a way and at such a theatre 
 that it can be seen to advantage ? Can I get some leading actor or actress 
 to play this part for the benefit of the play as a whole ? Can I get these 
 other individual types of character played in such a way that they will 
 appear to be something like the persons I have in my mind ? " These and 
 a hundred other questions the dramatist has to ask himself before he decides 
 upon the play he will write. A mistake in the casting of a secondary char- 
 acter may ruin a play, so narrow is the margin of success I hope I 
 
 may be forgiven for intruding this personal matter by way of excuse and 
 explanation. In no case do I blame or arraign the pubHc, who, in the 
 theatre, will always remain my masters, and whose grateful and willing 
 servant I shall always remain.^ 
 
 It should be recognized that my book is intended for two very 
 diverse types of readers, whose demands likewise are dissimilar: 
 
 First, for a general reading public which has little or no 
 acquaintance with the Greek and Latin classics in the original 
 but has a deep and abiding interest in the drama together with 
 
 ' Cf. The Theatre of Ideas (1915), pp. 9 £f. (copyrighted by the George H. Doran 
 Company).
 
 XX PREFACE 
 
 a desire to learn more of the prototypes and masterpieces of the 
 genre. This situation has made necessary an amplitude of 
 explanatory matter which, I fear, will at times prove irksome 
 to my professional confreres. On the other hand, I have felt 
 that intellectual honesty required me to treat the topics dis- 
 cussed in my Introduction and to meet the problems there raised 
 at some length and without evasions. But to do so necessitated 
 the interpretation of Greek texts and the presentation of much 
 jejune material. Perhaps, therefore, some of my non-classical 
 readers will prefer to omit the Introduction. By cross-references 
 and slight repetitions I have endeavored to make the rest of the 
 book intelhgible without it. The English word ''stage" is too 
 convenient to be avoided in discussing theatrical matters, but 
 those who omit the third section of the Introduction are to 
 understand that its use in my text does not mean that I believe 
 that the Greek theater of the fourth and fifth centuries B.C. 
 had a raised stage for the exclusive use of actors. 
 
 Secondly, although much that I have written is necessarily 
 well known to classicists, still, since I have striven to incorporate 
 the results of the latest investigations and have arranged under 
 one co-ordinating principle phenomena which are usually 
 regarded as unrelated, and since I have combined points of 
 interpretation which are scattered through scores of books and 
 monographs, I venture to hope that my discussion will not be 
 without interest even for specialists. 
 
 Inasmuch as the comedies of Plautus and Terence are but 
 translations and adaptations of Greek originals, and since 
 Seneca's tragedies are constructed upon the Greek model, I 
 have not hesitated to cite these Latin plays whenever they 
 seemed to afford better illustrations than purely Greek pro- 
 ductions. 
 
 I must express my constant indebtedness to such invaluable 
 storehouses of data as Miiller's Lehrhuch der griechischen Buhnen- 
 aUerthilmer (1886) and Das attische Buhnenwesen (1902), Na- 
 varre's Dionysos (1895), and especially Haigh's The Attic Theatre,
 
 PREFACE xxi 
 
 third edition by Pickard-Cambridge (1907); also to Butcher's 
 Aristotle's Theory of Poetry and Fine Art, fourth edition with 
 corrections (1911), and Bywater's edition of Aristotle's Poetics 
 (1909). 
 
 I desire to thank the editors for permission, graciously 
 granted, to use material which I have already published in 
 Classical Philology, V (1910), VII (1912), and VIII (1913), the 
 Classical Weekly, III (1910), VIII (1915), X (1917), and XI 
 (19 1 8), and the Classical Journal, VII (191 1) and X (1914). 
 Needless to state, these papers have not been brought over into 
 the present volume verbatim, but have been curtailed, expanded, 
 revised, and rearranged according to need. Furthermore, fully 
 two-thirds of the book are entirely new. 
 
 Permission to quote from Mr. A. S. Way's translation of 
 Euripides in the 'Xoeb Classical Library," Dr. B. B. Rogers' 
 translation of Aristophanes, and Professor J. S. Blackie's trans- 
 lation of Aeschylus in "Everyman's Library" has been cour- 
 teously granted by William Heinemann, London (G. P. Putnam's 
 Sons, New York), G. Bell & Sons, and J. M. Dent & Sons, 
 respectively. 
 
 To my friends. Professor D. M. Robinson of Johns Hopkins 
 University and Dr. A. S. Cooley of Bethlehem, Pa., I am indebted 
 for having placed at my disposal their collections of photographs 
 of Greek theaters. My colleague. Professor M. R. Hammer of 
 the Northwestern University College of Engineering, has put 
 me under deep obligation by supervising the preparation of 
 several of the drawings. 
 
 In conclusion, my heartiest thanks are due to Professor 
 Edward Capps, who first introduced me to the study of scenic 
 antiquities. Several parts of this book, when originally pub- 
 lished as articles, have enjoyed the benefit of his invaluable 
 suggestions and criticisms. It is unnecessary to add, however, 
 that he must not be held responsible for any part of them in their 
 present form. 
 
 Roy C. Flickinger 
 
 EvANSTON, III.
 
 /
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 FAGK 
 
 List of Illustrations xxv 
 
 Introduction i 
 
 .^.y^/^The Origin of Tragedy i 
 
 The Origin of Comedy 35 
 
 ^;:^' The Greek Theater '-57 
 
 CHAPTER t, 
 
 J I. The Influence OF Religious Origin . . '■ 119 ^<^ 
 
 \/ II. The Influence of Choral Origin 133 
 
 «/ III. The Influence of Actors 162 
 
 IV. The Influence of Festival Arrangements 196 
 
 V. The Influence of Physical Conditions 221 
 
 VI. The Influence of Physical Conditions {Continued): the 
 
 Unities 246 
 
 VII. The Influence of National Customs and Ideas .... 268 
 
 VIII. The Influence of Theatrical Machinery and Dramatic 
 
 Conventions 284 
 
 IX. Theatrical Records 318 
 
 Corrigenda et Addenda 338 
 
 Index op Passages 351 
 
 General Index 359
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Medallion of Athenian Coin (see p. 63, n. i) . . Front Cover 
 
 Fig. I. — The Theater of Dionysus Eleuthereus at Athens 
 
 AS Seen from the Acropolis Frontispiece 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Fig. 2. — Sketch Map of Attica and the Peloponnesus, Showing 
 
 Early Centers of Dramatic Activities in Greece 3 
 
 Fig. 3. — Caprine Sileni upon the Francois Vase, 600-550 b.c. 
 
 facing 26 
 
 Fig. 4. — Preparations for a Satyric Drama from a Naples 
 
 Crater of About 400 b.c 25 
 
 Figs. 5, 6. — Views of a Satyr-Play from a Dinos in Athens facing 26 
 Fig. 7. — Views of a Satyr-Play from a Dmos in Bonn facing 26 
 Fig. 8. — Poet and Choreutae of a Satyric Drama from a Pom- 
 
 PEiAN Mosaic 28 
 
 Fig. g. — Satyrs on a British Museum Crater of About 450 b.c. 30 
 Fig. 10.— a British Museum Psykter by Duris of About 480 b.c, 
 Probably Showing Influence of Contemporaneous 
 Satyric Drama facing 31 
 
 Fig. II. — A Satyr upon a Wurzburg Cylix of About 500 b.c. 
 
 facing 32 
 
 Fig. 12. — A Comus UPON A Berlin Amphora facing 32 
 
 Fig. 13. — A Comus upon a British Museum Oenochoe . . facing 38 
 
 Fig. 14. — A Comus upon a Berlin Amphora 39 
 
 Figs. 15, 16. — Comus Scenes upon a Boston Skyphos .... 40 
 
 Fig. 17. — Comic Actors and Flute Players upon an Attic Vase 
 
 in Petrograd 47 
 
 Fig. 18. — An Attic Terra Cotta in Berlin Representing a Comic 
 
 Actor 48 
 
 Fig. 19. — An Attic Terra Cotta in Munich Representing a Comic 
 
 Actor 48 
 
 Fig. 20. — Actors of Dorian Comedy lton a Corinthian Crater 
 
 IN Paris . 49 
 
 Fig. 21. — Actors of Dorian Comedy upon a Corinthian Vase . . 50 
 
 Fig. 22. — Ground Plan of a Greek Theater with Names of Its 
 
 Parts 57 
 
 XXV
 
 xxvi LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Fig. 23. — ^Cross-Section of a Greek Theater with Names of Its 
 
 Parts 58 
 
 Fig. 24. — Cross-Section of the Graeco-Roman Theater at Ephe- 
 
 sus WITH Names of Its Parts 61 
 
 Fig. 25. — Theater at Oeniadae in Acarnania .... facing 62 
 
 Fig. 26. — Theater and Temple of Apollo at Delphi . . facing 62 
 
 Fig. 27. — ^Theater at Megalopolis in Arcadia .... facing 62 
 
 Fig. 28. — ^Theater at Pergamum in Asia Minor .... facing 62 
 
 Fig. 29. — Plan of the Acropolis at Athens 62 
 
 Fig. 30. — Athenian Coin in the British Museum Showing the 
 Parthenon and Outline of the Theater of Dionysus 
 
 Eleuthereus 63 
 
 Fig. 31. — Parthenon and Theater of Dionysus; in Foreground 
 
 Altar in Precinct of Dionysus Eleuthereus facing 64 
 
 Fig. 32. — Precinct of Dionysus Eleuthereus in Athens, Showing 
 Dorpfeld's Restoration of the Early Orchestra 
 and of the Lycurgus Theater 64 
 
 Fig. 32a. — Cross-Section of Precinct of Dionysus Eleuthereus 
 in Athens, Showing Later and Early Temples and 
 Early Terrace and Later Orchestra 65 
 
 Fig. 33. — East Fragment of Wall Belonging to the Early 
 
 Orchestra in Athens facing 64 
 
 Fig. 34. — West Fragment of Wall Belonging to the Early 
 
 Orchestra in Athens facing 64 
 
 Fig. 35. — Outline of the Oldest Walls of the Scene-Building 
 
 IN Athens 67 
 
 Fig. 36. — Theater of Dionysus in Athens Looking North: Cho- 
 
 REGic Monument of Thrasyllus in the Background 
 
 facing 68 
 Fig. 37. — Theater of Dionysus in Athens Looking North and 
 
 West facing 68 
 
 Fig. 38.^ — Ground Plan of the Hellenistic Theater in Athens 
 
 According to Dorpfeld 71 
 
 Fig. 39. — Nero Balustrade and Pavement, and Phaedrus Stage 
 
 OF the Theater in Athens facing 72 
 
 Fig. 40. — Plan of the Romanized Theater in Athens According 
 
 TO Dorpfeld 73 
 
 Fig. 41. — Frieze OF the Phaedrus Stage in Athens . . .facing 72 
 Fig. 42. — ViTRuvius' Theatrum Latinum According to Dorpfeld . 76 
 Fig. 43. — ViTRUvius' Theatrum Graecorum According to Dorpfeld . 77
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS xxvii 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Fig. 44. — Movements of the Actors in Aristophanes' Frogs, 
 
 vss. 1-460 89 
 
 Fig. 45. — Stone Chair of the Priest of Dionysus Opposite the 
 
 Center of the Orchestra in Athens . . . facing 90 
 Fig. 46. — Plan of the Theater at Epidaurus in Argolis . . .102 
 Fig. 47.— Epidaurus — the Auditorium from the North . facing 104 
 Fig. 48. — Epidaurus — Orchestra and Scene-Building from the 
 
 South facing 104 
 
 Fig. 49. — Epidaurus— the West Parodus facing 104 
 
 Fig. 50. — Epidaurus — the East Parodus facing 104 
 
 Fig. 51. — Epidaurus — the Gateway in the West Parodus . facing 104 
 Fig. 52. — Epidaurus — ^Looking through the West Parodus facing 104 
 Fig. 53.— Ground Plan of the Theater at Eretria in Euboea . 105 
 Fig. 54.— Cross-Section of the Theater at Eretria .... 106 
 Fig. 55. — The Theater at Eretria as Seen from the North- 
 west facing 106 
 
 Fig. 56. — Ground Plan of the Theater at Oropus in Attica . . 109 
 Fig. 57.— The Scene-Building of the Theater at Oropus . facing 106 
 Fig. 58. — Ground Plan of the Graeco-Roman Theater at Ter- 
 
 messus no 
 
 Fig. 59. — The Proscenium of the Graeco-Roman Theater at 
 
 Ephesus facing iii 
 
 Fig. 60. — Ground Plan of the Early Hellenistic Theater at 
 
 Ephesus 112 
 
 Fig. 61. — The Later Hellenistic Theater at Ephesus: Above, 
 Elevation of Proscenium and Episcenium; Below, 
 Ground Plan of Proscenium and Parodi . . . .113 
 -Ground Plan of the Graeco-Roman Theater at Ephe- 
 sus 114 
 
 -Ground Plan aistd Cross-Section of the Theater at 
 Priene 115 
 
 -The Theater at Priene as Seen from the Southeast 
 
 facing III 
 
 -A "Wagon-Ship" of Dionysus and Processional upon 
 AN Attic Skyphos in Bologna of About 500 b.c. facing 120 
 
 -Ivory Statuette of a Tragic Actor .... facing 162 
 
 -Distribution of Roles to Actors in Sophocles' Oedipus 
 at Colonus 180 
 
 Fig. 
 
 62. 
 
 Fig. 
 
 63.- 
 
 Fig. 
 
 64.- 
 
 Fig. 
 
 65.- 
 
 Fig. 
 
 66.- 
 
 Fig. 
 
 67.-
 
 xxviii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 VAfiR 
 
 Fig. 68. — Mask of a Slave in New Comedy facing 212 
 
 Fig. 69.— Terra Cotta Mask in Berlin Representing a Cour- 
 tesan IN New Comedy facing 212 
 
 Fig. 70. — Ground Plan of the Theater at Thoricus in Attica . 227 
 
 Fig. 71. — Auditorium and Orchestra of the Theater at Thori- 
 cus facing 228 
 
 Fig. 72. — Horizontal Sections of Proscenium Columns at Megal- 
 opolis, Eretria, Epidaurus, Delos, and Oropus . . 236 
 
 Fig. 73. — A Fourth-Century Vase in Munich Representing the 
 
 Vengeance of Medea 237 
 
 Fig. 74. — The Athenian Theater of about 460 B.C., Showing the 
 
 Earlier Type of Eccyclema 286 
 
 Fig. 75. — Wilhelm's Transcription and Restoration of Two 
 
 Fragments of the Athenian Fasti 320 
 
 Fig. 76a. — Wilhelm's Transcription and Restoration of Two 
 
 Fragments of the Stone Didascaliae at Athens . 322 
 
 Fig. 766. — Translation of Inscription in Fig. 76a 323 
 
 Fig. 770. — A Fragment of the Athenian Victors'-List . facing 324 
 
 Fig. 776. — Wilhelm's Transcription and Restoration of Two 
 
 Fragments of the Athenian Victors'-List . facing 324 
 
 Fig. 78. — Wilhelm's Transcription and Restoration of Four 
 
 Fragments of the Athenian Victors'-List .328 
 
 Fig. 79. — Wilhelm's Transcription and Restoration of Five 
 
 Fragments of THE Athenian Victors'-List 329 
 
 Fig. 80. — The Villa Albani Statue of Euripides in the Louvre 
 WITH THE Beginning of an Alphabetical List of His 
 Plays facing 332 
 
 Fig. 81.— Cross-Section of Orchestra-Terrace, Orchestra, and 
 Auditorium in the ^^eriods of Aeschylus and Lycur- 
 GUS 340 
 
 Fig. 82. — Orchestra-Terrace, Orchestra, and Scene-Buildings 
 
 OF THE LyCURGUS ThEATER SUPERIMPOSED UPON THE 
 
 " Orchestra-Terrace OF Aeschylus; Constituting also 
 
 A Plan of the Supposed Theater of about 460 b.c. . 341 
 
 Fig. 83. — ^Reconstruction of the Hellenistic Theater at Priene 
 
 According to von Gerkan facing 345 
 
 Fig. 84. — Reconstruction of the Graeco-Roman Theater at 
 
 Priene According to von Gerkan 345
 
 Some day a benefactor of his kind 
 may prove beyond cavil that the problem 
 of the origin of tragedy is as incapable of 
 solution as is that of squaring the circle. — 
 
 W. S BURKAGE. 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 In undertaking to treat of a subject concerning hardly a 
 detail of which can any statement be made without the possibil- 
 ity of dispute, the unfortunate necessity rests upon me of 
 beginning with three topics which are the most controversial 
 of all — the origin of tragedy, the origin of comedy, and the 
 Greek theater. Instead of trying to conceal our ignorance on 
 these matters by vague generalities, I shall set forth such data 
 as are known, and attempt, clearly and frankly, to erect hypoth- 
 eses to answer the questions that most naturally arise, even 
 though this very striving for clearness and frankness will expose 
 me to attack. I believe with Bacon that " truth emerges sooner 
 from error than from confusion," or, as a recent writer has 
 expressed it, that " the definitizing of error is often the beginning 
 of its disappearance." Limits of space will require, at many 
 points, a dogmatic statement of my views without stopping to 
 examine the evidence from every angle. It must be under- 
 stood, however, that no account of these subjects, whoever its 
 author or however detailed his treatment, could find universal 
 acceptance or anything approaching it. 
 
 The Origin of Tragedy.^ — It is still the canonical doctrine, 
 though its modern history goes back no fdfrther than Welcker's 
 
 ' Cf. Welcker, Nachtrag zu der Schrift iiher die Aeschylische Trilogie nehst 
 einer Ahhandlung iiher das Satyrspiel (1826); Furtwangler, "Der Satyr aus Perga- 
 mon," Berliner Winckelmannsfest Programm, XL (1880); U. von Wilamowitz- 
 Mollendorff, Einleitung in die griechische Tragodie [Vol. I of his edition of Euripides' 
 Heracles (1889)], pp. 43 fF. and Nciie J ahrhiicher fiir das klassische Altertum, XXIX 
 (1912), 464 ff.; Bethe, Prolegomena zur Gcschichle des Theaters im AUherlhum (1896); 
 G. Korte, "Satyrn und Bocke," in Bethe's Prolegomena, pp. 339 ff.; Wernicke, 
 "Bockschore und Satyrdrama," Hermes, XXXII (1897), 290 ff.; Schmid, Zur 
 Geschichte des gr. Dithyrambus (1901); Reisch, "Zur Vorgeschichte der attischen 
 Tragodie," in Festschrift Theodor Gomperz (1902), pp. 451 ff.; Crusius, s.v.
 
 2 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 book on the Satyr spiel in 1826 and though n o conclusive testi - 
 mony for this view can be cited more ancient than Byzantine 
 tjrnps, J;ha.t satyrir rlrama wa^ the intprmpHiatft staple in -the 
 de rivation of traged^y^ from the dithyram b. The argument runs 
 somewhat as follows : The dithyramb was an improvisational 
 song and dance in honor of Dionysus (Bacchus), the god of wine, 
 and was performed by a band of men provided with goatlike 
 horns, ears, hoofs, and tails and clad in a goatskin (or in a goat- 
 hair loin-band) in imitation of Dionysus' attendant sprites, the 
 satyrs; on account of this costume the choreutae (members of 
 the chorus) were sometimes called tragoi, which is the Greek 
 word for ''goats"; in certain localities, as the dithyramb became 
 quasi-literary and took on a dramatic element, its name was 
 changed to satyric drama; still later, as these tendencies 
 increased, especially through the addition of an actor, the satyr- 
 play came to be called tragoidia ("goat-song"), derived from the 
 nickname applied to the caprine choreutae; the chorus still 
 consisted of satyrs and, since these were licentious, bestial 
 creatures, the performance was yet crude and undignified; 
 Aeschylus (525-456 B.C.) was possibly the first to abandon satyric 
 choreutae and was certainly the first to raise tragedy to the rank 
 of real literature; during the fifth century each poet was required 
 to follow his group of three tragedies at the dramatic festival 
 with a satyr-play as a concession to the satyric origin of the 
 performance. / 
 
 " Dithyrambos," in Pauly-Wissowa, Real-Encyclopadie,Y , 1203 ff. (1903); Dieterich. 
 "Die Entstehung der Tragodie," Archivjiir Religionswisscnschaft, XI (1908), 163 ff. 
 [Kleine Schriften, pp. 414 ff.]; Farnell, Cults of the Greek States, V, 85 ff., and 
 especially pp. 2245. (1909), and "The Megala Dionysia and the Origin of 
 Tragedy," Journal of Hellenic Studies, XXIX (1909), xlvii; Ridgeway, The Origin 
 of Tragedy with Special Reference to the Greek Tragedians (1910), and The Dramas 
 and Dramatic Dances of Non-European Races in Special Reference to the Origin of 
 Greek Tragedy (1915), reviewed by Flickinger in Classical Weekly, XI (1918), 
 107 ff.; Nilsson, "Der Ursprung der Tragodie," Neue J ahrhiicher fiir das klassische 
 Altertum, XXVII (191 1), 609 ff. and 673 ff.; Jane Harrison, Themis, a Study of 
 the Social Origins of Greek Religion (1912); Murray, "The Ritual Forms Preserved 
 in Greek Tragedy," in Miss Harrison's Themis, pp. 341 ff.; Flickinger, "Tragedy 
 and Satyric Drama," Classical Philology, VIII (1913), 261 ff.; and Cook, Zeus, 
 a Study in Ancient Religion, I (19 14), 665 ff. and 695 ff.
 
 INTRODUCTION 3 
 
 In recent years, essential supports of this doctrine have 
 slowly crumbled away before searching investigation; at 
 present, scarcely a single clause in the foregoing sketch would 
 escape unchallenged by some scholar of deserved standing. An 
 ever-increasing number of students believe that tragedy is not 
 
 Fig. 2. — Sketch Map of Attica and the Peloponnesus, Showing Early Centers 
 of Dramatic Activities in Greece. 
 
 the child of the satyr-play, but that the two are separate in their 
 origin. Unfortunately, however, these dissenters, including such 
 men as Dr. Emil Reisch of Vienna, Mr. Pickard-Cambridge of 
 Oxford, Professor Wilhelm Schmid of Tubingen, and Professor 
 William Ridgeway of Cambridge, though they are unanimous in 
 rejecting Welcker's hypothesis, cannot agree among themselves 
 as to a constructive policy. My own view is that tragedy and 
 satyric drama are independent offshoots of the same literary
 
 4 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 type, the Peloponnesian dithyramb. The former came to 
 Athens from Corinth and Sicyon by way of Icaria. Somewhat 
 later the latter was introduced directly from Phlius by Pratinas, 
 a native of that place. My reasons for these opinions will 
 develop in the course of the discussion. 
 
 Very recently, notable efforts have been put forth to interpret 
 the religious practices of the Greeks, partly in the light of anthro- 
 pology and partly in accordance with the new psychological 
 method which inquires, not what the god is, but what are the 
 social activities and the social organization of his devotees. 
 Whatever may be said for these avenues of approach in other 
 respects, in practice those who employ them have shown more 
 eagerness to assemble data which might be considered confirma- 
 tory of their theories than to reach an unprejudiced interpreta- 
 tion of the whole body of ancient evidence. Thus, much has 
 been made of present-day carnivals in Thessaly, Thrace, and 
 Scyrus,^ and these ceremonies are employed as if they were 
 assured survivals of the primitive rites from which Greek 
 drama developed and as if their evidence were of greater value 
 than the most firmly established data in the ancient tradition. 
 Now the a priori possibility that these carnivals should retain 
 their essential features unchanged through two and a half 
 millenniums amid all the vicissitudes which have come upon 
 these regions must be pronounced infinitesimal. And an 
 examination of the details confirms this impression. Certain 
 parts of the ceremonies are parodies of the Christian rites of 
 marriage and burial. Not only an Arab but also a Frank appear 
 in the cast of characters. Though Phrynichus is said to have 
 been the first to represent female roles,^ such roles abound in 
 these modern plays. Yet there is another defect in this 
 assumption which is still more serious. If there is one well- 
 authenticated fact injthe^-bistery ^rP^reek drama, expressly 
 stateS^nTajraenrTnotices and fullv jubstan tiated by the extant 
 
 ' Cf. Lawson, Annual of British School at Athens, VI (1900), 125 ff.; Dawkins, 
 ihid., XI (1905), 72 ff.; and Wace, ibid., XVI (1910), 232 2. 
 ' Cf. Suidas, s.v. "Phrynichus."
 
 INTRODUCTION 5 
 
 plays^itisjhat_ tragedy a r ose from a choral performance and 
 only^gr adually acqu ired its histrionic features. On_the con- 
 trary, these carniva ls are pr edominantly histrionic; there is 
 eitlier~inj""cEorus or its role is distinctly secondary. Had 
 Aristotle been guilty of such a, faux pas, we can easily imagine 
 the derisive comments in which modern investigators would 
 have indulged at his expense. 
 
 Of course, our evidence is far from being as complete as we 
 could wish, and must therefore be supplemented at many points 
 by conjecture pure and simple; but this fact does not justify us 
 in throwing all our data overboard and in beginning de novo. 
 In this matter we have been too prone to follow a practice which 
 the late Professor Verrall characterized, in a different connection, 
 as follows : "We are perhaps too apt, in speculations of this kind, 
 to help a theory by the convenient hypothesis of a wondrous 
 simpleton, who did the mangling, blundering, or whatever it is 
 that we require."'' Now, whatever may be true in other cases, 
 Aristotle at least was no "simpleton," competent only to mangle 
 his sources of information ; and furthermore, apart from certain 
 ethnographic parallels which are of only secondary importance 
 after all,^ our fund of knowledge in this field is in no wise com- 
 parable with his. In fact, except for the extant plays our 
 information is almost confined to what we derive, directly or 
 indirectly, from him. Since this is so, what can be more absurd 
 than to reject his conclusions and have recourse to unhampered 
 conjecture ? 
 
 But if we are to hold fast to Aristotle, one precaution is 
 necessary — we must be sure that we do not make him say more 
 or less than he does say. He wrote for a very different audience 
 from that which now reads his words and with a very different 
 purpose from that to which his book is now put. And these 
 factors often render him enigmatical. This resulted also from 
 his frequently assuming a familiarity with things which now 
 
 ' Cf. Euripides the Rationalist, p. 243. 
 
 ' Cf. von Wilamowitz, Neue Jahrbiicher J. kl. AUertum, XXIX (191 2), 474, 
 and Cook, Zeus, I, xiii f.
 
 6 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 cannot always be taken for granted. As Professor Bywater 
 expressed it: " It is clear from Aristotle's confession of ignorance 
 as to comedy that he knows more of the history of tragedy than 
 he actually tells us, and that he is not aware of there being any 
 serious lacuna in it."^ Thus, Aristotle says that tragedy was 
 " improvisational by origin" and, more specifically, was derived 
 "from the leaders of the dithyramb."^ Though this expression 
 unhappily is somewhat lacking in precision, the main item, that 
 the dithy ramb is the parent of tragedy, emerges from any 
 interpretation. Ridgeway may proceed to dissociate the dithy- 
 ramb from Dionysus and to derive it from ceremonies at the 
 tombs of heroes if he choose; however unwarranted, that is at 
 least logical. But to ignore this statement of Aristotle's and to 
 seek, as many do, to trace tragedy back to bpwixeva ("ritual 
 acts") of various kinds by another line of development trans- 
 gresses good philological practice. 
 
 There is an unfortunate facility in such attempts. Tragedy 
 embraced many diverse elements in its material and technique. 
 Accordingly, whatever anyone sets out to find, he can be almost 
 certain of discovering there. Thus, Dieterich with his theory 
 of the development of tragedy from funeral dirges, the Eleusinian 
 mysteries, and various aetiological sources; Ridgeway with his 
 tomb theory; Miss Harrison with her "Year Spirit" (the 
 Eniautos-Daimon) and sympathetic magic; and Murray with 
 his attempt to reconcile and expand the Dieterich-Harrison 
 theories, all find confirmation for their views in the same body 
 of dramatic literature. The very facility of such analyzing is 
 its undoing. 
 
 Moreover, despite numerous attempts to the contrary, the 
 real nature of the primitive dithyramb can scarcely be a matter 
 of doubt. Plato^jadia-was^glso no "simpleton," defined it as a 
 
 ' Cf . his Aristotle on the Art of Poetry, p. 135. This opinion is confirmed by the 
 fact that men of such importance as Thespis and Phrynichus are not so much as 
 mentioned in the Poetics. 
 
 ^ Cf . Poetics 144909-11: yevofjAvq <5'> ott' &px^^ ainovxediaffTi.K'ft, .... 
 KoX 7} nhv a.irh twv i^apx^VTUv rbv didvpa/jL^ov.
 
 INTRODUCTION 7 
 
 song in celebration of the birth. of .IMonysus.V Now since the 
 dithyrarnb IS known to have been opened up to a wider range of 
 themes considerably before Plato's time, his definition must apply 
 to the original meaning of the term. This interpretation does 
 not remain unsupported. Thus, the first extant instance of the 
 words occurs in a fragment of Archilochus {ca. 680-640 B.C.), who 
 declares that he ''knows how, when his heart is crazed with wine, 
 to lead lord Dionysus' dithyramb."^ It should be observed that 
 Archilochus does not say that he knows how to write a dithyramb, 
 but how to take part in one as a drunken e^dpxoov ("leader")- 
 Such a performance was doubtless, as Aristotle said, largely 
 improvisational, being perhaps coupled with the rendition of 
 some ritual chant (koXov /xtXos). Dionysus is characterized as 
 6 pLajx§o-dLdv pantos ("celebrated in dithyrambs") by Fr^ihas^ 
 and addressed as diBvpafx^os by Eurfpides in his Bacchanals, vs. 
 526. In an ode in honor of the victories which were won by 
 Xenophon of Corinth in 464 b.c. Pindar inquires, "Whence 
 appeared the charms of Dionysus in connection with the ox- 
 driving dithyramb ? "'• Here, also, the author is not referring to 
 the Corinthian dithyramb of his own day but to the period when 
 
 ' Cf. Laws 700 B: Kal dWo (sc. elSoy <i>Srjs) Aiovvffov yiveais, olfiai, SLdvpan^os 
 \ey6fjLevos. 
 
 ^ Cf. Bergk, Poetae Lyrici Graeci*, II, 404, fr. 77: 
 
 ojs Ai.ovijffoi'' AvaKTOs KaXbv i^dp^ai ixiXos 
 olda didvpa/x^ov, otvif ffvyKepavvudels <ppivas. 
 
 s Cf. ibid., Ill, 559, fr. i, vs. 16. 
 
 * Cf. Olymp. XIII, 18 f. : toX Alovihtov irSOev i^4<pav€v 
 
 BoriXdrq. is usually explained by reference to the ox prize, cf. schol. Plato, Republic, 
 394C: evpedijvai jxkv rhv diOvpafi^ov iv KoplvOq) virb ' Xplovbi <paffi. tQv di wot.r]rQv 
 tQ p,kv irpdiTCf) ^oDs eiraOXov Tjv, t^ Si 5evT^p(p ap.<pope'ui, r^ 5k rplrq) rpdyos, 6v rpvyl 
 Kexpt(rp.ivov dirriyov. Kern, Crusius, and Ridgeway, however, refer it to the prac- 
 tice of an Arcadian community, the Cynaethaens, of whom Pausanias (viii. 19. i) 
 speaks as follows: "And as to the things most worthy of mention there is a shrine of 
 Dionysus there, and in the winter season they celebrate a festival, in which men 
 who have anointed themselves with oil lift up a bull from the herd, whatever 
 one the god himself puts in their minds to lift, and carry it to the shrine. Such 
 was their manner of sacrifice." Cf. Pauly-Wissowa, V, 1041 and 1206, and Origin 
 of Tragedy, p. 6.
 
 8 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 it was put upon a quasi-literary level by Arion (see below). 
 Finally, Epicharmus went so far as to declare that "when you 
 drink water, it isn't a dithyramb,"' showing that the more 
 primitive meaning of the term was not crowded out by later 
 developments. These passages are sufi&cient to show that 
 the dithyramb was at all times intimately associated with 
 Dionysus and at the beginning belonged to him exclusively; 
 their force is not invahdated by the acknowledged fact that at 
 an early period (see p. ii, below) the restriction was broken 
 down. 
 
 It was not until after the middle of the seventh century that 
 the dithyramb became "poetized." This step was taken by 
 Arion of Methymna in Lesbos, then resident in Corinth. His 
 connection with the dithyramb and early tragedy is vouched for 
 by irrefutable evidence. Solon of Athens (639-559 B.C.) is 
 said in a recently discovered notice^ to have declared in his 
 Elegies that "Arion introduced the first drama of tragedy." 
 The question immediately arises as to exactly what language 
 Solon had employed. The words rrjs rpaycodlas TrpccTov dpa/xa are, 
 of course, only a paraphrase, for no form of the word rpaycoSia can 
 be used in elegiac verse. This objection does not lie against the 
 word dpana, however, and it will be remembered that the Dorians 
 based their claims to tragedy partly upon this non-Attic term.^ 
 Thus, we obtain an explanation of the cumbersome circumlo- 
 cution "the first drama of tragedy." In Solon's Elegies the 
 author of this notice (or his source) found only the ambiguous 
 term dpafxa. A desire to retain the terminology of the original 
 prevented his frankly substituting rpaycpdla. Accordingly, he 
 kept dpafia but inserted the qualifying genitive rfjs rpaycodlas. 
 I do not understand that Aristotle either indorses or rejects the 
 
 ' Cf. Kaibel, Comicorum Graecorum Fragmenta, p. 115, fr. 132; 
 bvK fffTi diOvpafipos 5kx' vSwp tt^js. 
 
 ' Published by Rabe in Rheinisches Museum fur Philologie, LXIII (190S), 150. 
 
 3 Cf. Aristotle's Poetics 144861: Kal rb Troielv airol [sc. ol Awpiets] fiiv SpSLv, 
 A0T]vaiovs 5i irpdTTeiv irpocrayocreveiv. In referring to this passage von Wilamowitz 
 says: "So viel wahr ist, dass SpcLf^a in der Tat ein Fremdwort ist; man redet im 
 Kultus nur von dptbueva" ; cf. op. cit., p. 467, n. 3.
 
 INTRODUCTION 9 
 
 Dorian pretensions with respect to this word; but in view of 
 our present evidence I am of the opinion that Arion called his 
 performances "dramas" and was the first to use the word in 
 this sense and that there is so much of justice in the Dorian 
 claims. It is not necessary to beheve, however, that they were 
 ever called satyric dramas, see pp. 11 and 22, below. 
 
 Now, Dr. Nilsson has objected that Solon would have had no 
 occasion to express his opinion upon a matter of this kind {op. cit., 
 p. 611, note). But the mention of the title of the work from 
 which the citation purports to come goes far to substantiate its 
 genuineness. Furthermore, Solon was incensed at Thespis (see 
 pp. 17 f., below), and therefore it was only natural that he should 
 take an interest in the matter, assign the distinction to another, 
 and state his opinion in as public a manner as possible. The fact 
 that he lived in the days before real (Aeschylean) tragedy and 
 before the importance of Thespis' innovations was understood 
 explains the error in his judgment. But at the very least, this 
 notice proves that the tradition of Arion's connection with 
 tragedy was current as early as the first half of the sixth 
 century. 
 
 Pindar's reference to the development of the dithyramb at 
 Corinth has already been mentioned. In the next generation 
 Herodotus characterized Arion as follows: "Arion was second 
 to none of the harpists of that time and was the first of the men 
 known to us to compose {iroL-qo-avTo) a dithyramb and to give it 
 a name {bvoixacravra) and to represent it at Corinth" (I, 23). 
 It is customary nowadays to seek to explain such notices as 
 arising from the rival claims of jealous cities; but be it noted 
 that here are two Attic sympathizers, Solon and Herodotus, 
 granting full recognition to the literary achievements of a neigh- 
 boring city. In fact, Herodotus is apparently too generous, for 
 Arion could not have been the inventor of the dithyramb, broadly 
 speaking. But iroielv denotes not only "to compose" but also 
 "to poetize," and the latter translation is in better accord with 
 what else we know of Arion's contribution to the history of the 
 dithyramb. On the other hand, ovonacravTa probably means
 
 lO THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 that in Herodotus' opinion Arion was the first to give names 
 (titles) to his performances/ 
 
 A Byzantine writer repeats and amplifies Herodotus' state- 
 ments but adds one interesting clause to the effect that Arion 
 " introduced satyrs speaking in meter. "^ In this there is nothing 
 surprising. In the Peloponnesus caprine satyrs were regular 
 attendants upon Dionysus, and in consequence the dithyrambic 
 choreutae must usually have been thought of as satyrs. Their 
 improvisations, also, must always have engaged the speaking as 
 well as the singing voice. This fact, however, did not at this 
 time involve histrionic impersonation (/itjurjats) for the reason 
 that they would not attempt to say what was appropriate to 
 satyrs but to themselves in propria persona as revelers and 
 worshipers. The word eix/jLerpa ("in meter"), therefore, is the 
 important one. The use of meter marked the coming of artistic 
 finish and the passing of a performance largely extemporaneous. 
 Some idea of the technique of Arion's productions may be drawn 
 from a dithyramb by Bacchylides (first half of the fifth century) 
 in honor of Theseus. This is in the form of a lyric dialogue and 
 was doubtless influenced somewhat by contemporaneous tragedy. 
 The chorus of Athenians, addressing Aegeus, king of Athens, 
 inquires why a call to arms has been sounded (vss. 1-15), and 
 the coryphaeus ("chorus-leader") replies that a herald has just 
 arrived and summarizes his message (vss. 16-30). The chorus 
 asks for further details (vss. 31-45), and once more the king's 
 reply is borrowed from the herald (vss. 46-60). Here Theseus, 
 not Dionysus, is the theme of the poem; the choreutae do not 
 
 ' Cf. Haigh, The Tragic Drama of the Greeks (1896), p. 17, n. i, and Pickard- 
 Cambridge in Classical Review, XXVI (191 2), 54. It is also possible that Arion's 
 employment of a new generic term (Spd/iara) for his dithyrambs is alluded to. 
 Herodotus may have taken it as a matter of course that everyone knew what this 
 new name was and consequently failed to mention it, thus leaving the passage 
 ambiguous. 
 
 ^ Cf . Suidas, s.v. "Arion": X^yerai Kal rpayiKoO Tp6irov evperrjs yeviadai koX 
 irpdros x°P^^ (TTTJffai <ki5k\ioj'> kuI dLdipa/M^ov j.craL Kal dvefidffai rb q.56p.€vov vtto 
 ToD xopov Kal aarvpovs eicxeveyKdv efj.fj.eTpa Xiyovras. I cannot agree with Reisch, 
 Op. cit., p. 47i> and Pickard-Cambridge, op. cit., p. 54, in thinking that this notice 
 refers to three separate types of performances instead of one.
 
 INTRODUCTION II 
 
 represent satyrs, but appear in their true character as plain 
 citizens of Athens; and the coryphaeus is given a dramatic 
 character, that of Aegeus. These are all developments later 
 than the time of Arion ; nevertheless, the general effect must have 
 been much the same. 
 
 Before the close of the sixth century the dithyramb had 
 become a regular form of literature — a chorus of fifty, dancing 
 and singing formal compositions. In 508 B.C. a contest of dithy- 
 rambic choruses of men was made a standing feature of the pro- 
 gram at the City Dionysia in Athens. Simonides (556-467 B.C.) 
 is known to have composed a dithyramb entitled Memnon, the 
 exclusively Dionysiac character of the genre being then, if not 
 earlier, abandoned. But it is important to remember that ori- 
 ginally the dithyramb was extemporaneous and confined to the 
 worship and exaltation of Dionysus. 
 
 In the new notice concerning Solon and Arion, von Wila- 
 mowitz finds *'die Bestatigung dass die rpayuidol vor Thespis 
 bestanden" (cf. op. cit., p. 470). This development could 
 scarcely have taken place at Corinth in Arion's time, for there 
 was no need of coining a new word to designate the performers 
 so long as they appeared as satyrs. And if a term had then been 
 derived from the choreutae to designate their performance, it 
 must have been *(rarupa;5ta and not t payoph'ia. Neither could the 
 new term have been derived at this period from the prize, for 
 then the goat was onlv the third award. ^ Let us therefore turn 
 to Sicyon. 
 
 In a well-known passage (v. 67) Herodotus tells how the 
 Sicyonians used to honor their former king, Adrastus, in other 
 ways, and in particular celebrated his sorrows with "tragic" 
 (or "goat") choruses (rpajiKo'Lcn xopolcn) and how their tyrant 
 Clisthenes in anger at Adrastus assigned these choruses to 
 Dionysus and the other features of the rites to Melanippus. 
 Melanippus in his lifetime had killed Adrastus' brother and 
 son-in-law, and Clisthenes had brought his bones from Thebes 
 and transferred to him part of the honors which had previously 
 
 ' See p. 7, n. 4, above.
 
 12 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 been paid to Adrastus, in order to insult the latter as outrageously 
 as possible. The superimposition of the worship of Dionysus 
 upon that of the local hero and the reference to tragic choruses 
 have furnished Ridgeway a foundation upon which to rear his 
 theory that tragedy developed from ceremonies at the tombs of 
 heroes. In this passage the meaning of the word rpayLKolat, has 
 provoked much discussion. I believe that Herodotus meant 
 rpayLKos here in the sense current in his own day, viz., tragic, 
 but I do not believe that he stopped to consider whether these 
 Sicyonian dances ''were sufficiently like the choruses in the 
 tragedies of his contemporaries to be called 'tragic.'"^ I think 
 he employed that adjective simply because TpayiKol xopo'i- was 
 the Sicyonians' own designation for their performances. If so, 
 whatever TpayLKolcn xopol(n connoted to Herodotus, or even to 
 contemporaneous Sicyonians, originally TpayiKos in this phrase 
 must have meant "goat," and these choruses must originally 
 have been, for whatever reason, "goat" choruses. 
 
 Some considered Epigenes of Sicyon the first tragic poet, 
 Thespis being second (or as others thought, sixteenth) in the list.^ 
 In connection with Epigenes another tradition must be men- 
 tioned. Several explanations are preserved of the proverb 
 ov8ey irpos tov Aiouvaov ("nothing to do with Dionysus") . These 
 are somewhat vague in details and need not be taken too 
 seriously; but at least they are valuable as showing the general 
 periods in which their authors thought that the proper situation 
 for the rise of such a proverb had existed. According to one 
 account, this expression was uttered "when Epigenes had com- 
 posed a tragedy in honor of Dionysus."^ In just what particular 
 Epigenes' performance seemed alien to the worship of Dionysus 
 the retailers of the anecdote do not specify. Ridgeway supposes 
 
 ' Cf. Pickard-Cambridge, op. cit., p. 55. 
 
 ^ Cf . Suidas, S.V. "Thespis": ©^(TTrti '\Kaplov 7r6Xews AxTt/c^s, rpayLKbs iKKai- 
 d^Karos dnb tov irpuTov yevofnivov TpayifiSioiroiov 'EirtY^voiis rov HiiKvuviov TiOi/xevos, 
 o)i d4 Tives, devrepos fiera 'E,iriy4v7}v fiXXot 5^ avrbv TrpCjTov rpayiKhv yev^adai 
 ipaa-l. 
 
 3 Cf. Suidas, s.v., Photius, s.v., and Apostolius xiii. 42: 'Einy^vov tov HiikvuvIov 
 TpaytfiSlav els t6v Aidvvffov Troi'^cravros, iirecfxivrja'di' rives tovto- 60ev tj irapoi/j-la.
 
 INTRODUCTION 13 
 
 that Epigenes "did not confine himself to Dionysiac subjects."^ 
 But surely that development came much later. In my opinion, 
 the explanation is simpler. We have no information as to the 
 costume which the choreutae wore in honoring the sorrows of 
 Adrastus. There was, of course, no reason for their appearing 
 as satyrs. But were satyric choreutae introduced at the same 
 time that the dances were given over to Dionysus ? If we answer 
 this question in the negative, the situation becomes clear. The 
 audience, or part of it, was sufficiently acquainted with the 
 performances instituted by Arion at Corinth to expect a chorus 
 of satyrs in the Sicyonian dances after they were transferred to 
 Dionysus. And when Epigenes brought on his choreutae in the 
 same (non-satyric) costume as had previously been employed, 
 they naturally manifested, their surprise with the ejaculation: 
 oudev Trpos top ^lovvaov. By this they meant: "Why, these 
 choreutae are just what we have had all the time; there is 
 nothing of the satyrs about them. They have nothing to do 
 with Dionysus." 
 
 Practically everyone is convinced that rpayuibia means 
 "goat-song." The only difficulty consists in explaining how 
 this name came to be applied. We have already noted (see 
 p. 2, above) that Welcker explained it on the basis of costume, 
 and this is now the prevailing view. But though the choreutae 
 at Corinth were satyrs, there were good reasons why no new term 
 should be coined there to designate them (see p. 11, above), and 
 in fact, Tpaycjobia, rpaycodos ("goat-singer"), and rpayiKos (in a 
 technical sense) apparently did not originate there. On the 
 other hand, in Sicyon (where at least the expression rpayLKol 
 XopoL, if not the others, seems to have been in use at an early 
 day) the costume of the choreutae was assuredly not caprine 
 before the dances were transferred from Adrastus to Dionysus 
 and probably was not thereafter. Consequently, Welcker's 
 explanation must be rejected. 
 
 But the earliest and favorite explanation of these terms in 
 antiquity derived them from the fact that a goat was given to the 
 
 ' Cf. The Origin of Tragedy, p. 58.
 
 14 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 victorious poet as a prize.^ Knowledge and approval of this 
 interpretation can be traced almost uninterruptedly from the 
 high authority of the Parian Chronicle^ in the third century B.C. 
 onward, and there is no cogent reason for doubting its truth. 
 The other suggestion that the name was derived from the goat 
 which was offered in sacrifice in connection with the performances 
 will be seen not to conflict with this view when it is remembered 
 that in the later dithyrambic contests the prize (a tripod) was 
 not regarded as the personal possession of the victor but was 
 customarily consecrated in some temple or other public place. 
 In my opinion, these explanations have been most unwarrant- 
 ably abandoned in modern times, and I think a reaction in their 
 favor has set in. They are spoken of respectfully by Dr. Reisch,^ 
 and Mr. Pickard-Cambridge mentions them exclusively.'* 
 
 Now the transfer of the Sicyonian dances from Adrastus to 
 Dionysus would probably happen early in the reign of Clisthenes 
 {ca. 595-560 B.C.), and for this very period Eusebius preserves a 
 notice to the effect that " a goat was given to contestants among 
 the Greeks, and from this fact they were called Tpayimi.^^^ I 
 therefore believe that Herodotus, Eusebius (Jerome), and Suidas 
 all refer to the same event : that Clisthenes of Sicyon established 
 the goat prize about 590 B.C. when he surrendered to Dionysus 
 
 ' About a dozen explanations in addition to those discussed in the text are 
 listed and criticized in Classical Philology, VIII (1913), 269 ff. 
 
 ' Cf. Jacoby, Das M armor Parmm, p. 14: a0' oD Qiu-wiz 6 iroft)Tr]s [vneKpLua]To 
 irpwTos, Si iSlSa^e [5p]S.[fjLa iv &\(Tt[€l Kal adXov i]T^6ri 6 [rjpdyos, eri] HHP[AA], 
 &PXOVTOS ' A6[-^vTiai] . . . vatov tov irpor^pov. 
 
 J Cf. op. cit., p. 468: "An der Tatsache, dass in alterer Zeit dem Tragodenchor 
 ein Bock als Preis (der als Opferthier und Opferschmaus dienen sollte), gegeben 
 wurde, wie dem Dithyrambenchor zu gliechem Zwecke ein Stier, daran zu zweifeln 
 ist kein Grund." 
 
 4 Cf. op. cit., p. 59: "Since the interpretation of rpayi^Ua as the 'song of the 
 men in goat-costume' must be given up, the word can be interpreted as the 'song 
 around' or '/or the goat' — whether the goat be sacrifice or prize." 
 
 s Cf. Eusebius' Chronica, 01. 47, 2 (591-590 B.C.; Armenian version, CI. 48, i): 
 TotJ ayuvL^ofxivois Trap' WSXtjcri rpdyoi iSidoro, d(p oD Kal rpayiKol iKki^dyjaav. 
 Jerome's Latin version reads: "his temporibus certantibus in agone (de voce add. 
 R) tragus, id est hircus, in praemio dabatur. Unde aiunt tragoedos nuncupatos."
 
 INTRODUCTION 15 
 
 the dances which had previously been performed in honor of 
 Adrastus/ that Epigenes was the poet whom CHsthenes employed 
 to initiate this innovation, and that non-satyric choreutae and 
 the terms rpayuos, rpaycpdos, etc., arose in this manner, time, and 
 place. The neatness with which these notices fit together to 
 produce this result renders them comparatively secure from the 
 critical assault which might more successfully be directed 
 against them individually. In any case, it is incumbent upon 
 any skeptic, not merely to reject the later authorities, but also 
 to provide a more satisfactory explanation of Herodotus. 
 
 If this series of conclusions is accepted, we have an answer 
 to the question under consideration — the occasion of the term 
 rpayctidoL We must conclude that honoring Adrastus with 
 choruses either did not involve the giving of a prize or that the 
 prize was other than a goat. With the transfer to Dionysus, a 
 goat (for some reason) was chosen as the object of competition, 
 and was doubtless immediately consumed in a sacrificial feast. 
 We have seen that at Corinth, where the choreutae were satyrs, 
 there was no reason to coin a new term to designate them. But 
 at Sicyon the situation was different. What more natural than 
 that from the new prize should be derived new names {rpayLKol 
 Xopol and rpaycodol respectively) for the new-old performances 
 and their choreutae.^ It is not enough to pass this tradition of 
 Sicyonian tragedy by in silence or to brand it as aetiological or as 
 arising from the partisanship of rival cities. It must first be 
 shown to be inconsistent, either with itself or with other 
 established facts. 
 
 Hitherto we have dealt with the Peloponnesus, which was 
 inhabited by the Dorian branch of the Greek stock; at this point 
 we pass to Attica, which was Ionic. We are indebted to the 
 
 ^ Contrary to Herodotus, these choruses were rpaytKol only after the transfer, 
 not before — a negligible error. 
 
 * Of course, it is possible to' argue that goats may have been sacrificed to 
 Adrastus and that rpayiKb^ and Tpaycp56i were consequently older terms than is 
 maintained in the text; this would also explain why the goat was continued as a 
 prize after the sacrifice proper had been given over to Melanippus. Cf., however, 
 Farnell, Cults of the Greek States, V, 233 and note d.
 
 l6 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 late Professor Furtwangler {op. cit., pp. 22 £f.) for having pointed 
 out that among the Dorians the attendant sprites of Dionysus 
 were caprine satyrs, but that among the lonians he was attended 
 by sileni, creatures with equine ears, hoofs, and tails. Caprine 
 satyrs do not appear upon Attic vases until about 450 B.C. (see 
 p. 24, below). Although the sort of dances from which tragedy 
 developed had existed in Attica from time immemorial,' yet 
 they did not emerge into prominence and literary importance 
 until the age of Thespis and in Icaria. Evidently Thespis' 
 innovations were partly borrowed from the Peloponnesus and 
 partly his own. Included among the former would be the drop- 
 ping of improvisation, the use of meter, the goat prize, and such 
 terms as dpaixa and rpaycodos. Most distinctive among the latter 
 was his invention of the first actor. In early choral performances 
 it was customary for the poet himself to serve as coryphaeus, 
 and in Bacchylides' dithyramb we have seen how the coryphaeus 
 was set apart from the other choreutae, answering the questions 
 which they propounded. It was inevitable that to someone 
 should come the happy thought of developing this role still 
 further and of promoting the coryphaeus to a position inde- 
 pendent of the chorus. It is significant that the verb which was 
 first used to designate the actor's function was a-woKpiveadai 
 ("to answer"), and that until the time of Sophocles all play- 
 wrights were actors in their own productions. We are now in a 
 position to realize the true inwardness of Aristotle's phrase: he 
 does not say merely that tragedy was derived from the dithyramb 
 but from the "leaders" of the dithyramb. 
 /y^ We have noted that the early dithyramb did not require 
 y impersonation (see p. 10, above). Even at an advanced stage 
 it was probably much like a sacred oratorio of modern times in 
 which the performers may sing words which are appropriate to 
 characters and yet make no attempt by costume, gestures, or 
 actions to represent those characters. Thespis changed all this. 
 
 ' Cf. Plato Minos 32 lA: ^ 5^ rpayi^dla ia-rl iraXatdv ivOdde, ovx ws oiovrai dw& 
 Oi<nri5o^ ap^anivT) oi)5' awb ^pvvlxov, dW el 6i\eis ivvoTJffai., irdw iraXaibv avrb 
 evpi^jeis ov Trj(rde rrji TroXews evprifia.
 
 INTRODUCTION 17 
 
 Since he assumed an actor's role himself, first of all probably that 
 of Dionysus, the choreutae could no longer conduct themselves 
 as worshipers in disguise, but must now not merely look like 
 real attendants of Dionysus but also behave as such. This 
 is a fundamental matter. Only after this step had been taken 
 could real drama in the modern sense become possible. Neither 
 honoring the sorrows of Adrastus nor the "fore-doing" of imita- 
 tive magic, not even the primitive bpcoixeva at Eleusis or elsewhere 
 demanded or presupposed actual impersonation. This develop- 
 ment took place at Icaria and by the agency of Thespis. I cannot 
 do better than to quote certain sentences of Miss Harrison's: 
 
 We are apt to forget that from the epos, the narrative, to the drama, the 
 enactment, is a momentous step, one, so far as we know, not taken in Greece 
 till after centuries of epic achievement, and then taken suddenly, almost in 
 the dark, and irrevocably. All we really know of this momentous step is 
 that it was taken sometime in the sixth century B.C. and taken in con- 
 nection with the worship of Dionysus. Surely it is at least possible that 
 the real impulse to the drama lay not wholly in "goat-songs" and "circular 
 dancing places" but also in the cardinal, the essentially dramatic, conviction 
 of the religion of Dionysus, that the worshipper can not only worship, but 
 ca n be come, can be, his god. Athene and Zeus and Poseidon have no drama, 
 because no one, in his wildest moments, believed he could become and be 
 Athene or Zeus or Poseidon. It is indeed only in the orgiastic religions that 
 these splendid moments of conviction could come, and, for Greece at least, 
 only in an orgiastic religion did the drama take its rise.^ 
 
 Thespis' invention of impersonation probably provides the_ 
 clue for understanding the clash between him and Solon : 
 
 Thespis was already beginning to develop tragedy, and on account of 
 its novelty the matter was engaging general attention but had not yet been 
 
 ' Cf . Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion^ (1908), p. 568. Of course, I do 
 not mean to deny that impersonation was subsequently borrowed from true drama 
 by rites of various kinds which had not contained it at first. This situation prob- 
 ably obtained with reference to the Eleusinian mysteries in their later forms. 
 
 The indebtedness of tragedy to epic poetry for subject matter, dignity of treat- 
 ment and of diction, and development of plot, including such technical devices as 
 recognition (dvaypiipia-is) and reversal of situation (irepiir^Teia) is too well estab- 
 lished to require argument. Aeschylus is said to have declared that his tragedies 
 were "slices from Homer's bountiful banquets" (Athenaeus, p. 347E). The per- 
 tinent passages from Aristotle's Poetics have been conveniently assembled by 
 Throop, "Epic and Dramatic," Washington University Studies, V (1917), i ff.
 
 1 8 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 brought into a public contest. Now Solon, who by nature was fond of 
 hearing and learning, to a still greater extent in old age gave himself up to 
 leisurely amusement and even to conviviality and music. Therefore, he 
 went to see Thespis himself act, as was customary for the earlier poets. 
 And when the spectacle was over, Solon addressed him and inquired if he 
 had no sense of shame to lie so egregiously before so many. Moreover, 
 when Thespis said that it was no crime to say and enact such things in 
 sport, Solon struck the ground violently with his staff and said: "Yet if 
 we praise and honor this 'sport' under these circumstances, it will not be 
 long before we discover it in our contracts."^ 
 
 To so straightforward a man as Solon such a facile abandonment 
 of one's own personaKty might well seem like barefaced lying, 
 and to augur and even encourage similar shuffling prevarications 
 in the more serious affairs of life. 
 
 To Ridgeway, however, all this appears in a different light. 
 In the first place, after citing Diogenes Laertius to the effect that 
 "in ancient times the chorus at first carried on the action in 
 tragedy alone, but later Thespis invented an actor in order to 
 allow the chorus intervals of relief,"'' he declares flatly: ''But 
 this cannot mean, as is commonly held, that Thespis first sepa- 
 rated in some degree the coryphaeus from the chorus and made 
 him interrupt the dithyramb with epic recitations, for, as we 
 have seen above, before his time the poet or coryphaeus used to 
 mount a table and hold a dialogue with the chorus."^ In the 
 cross-reference Ridgeway had quoted Pollux iv. 123: " The eXeos 
 was a table in the olden days upon which in the period before 
 Thespis some one mounted and made answer to the choreutae," 
 and Etymologicum Magnum, s.v. "Ovuekr]'' : " It was a table upon 
 which they stood and sang in the country when tragedy had not 
 yet assumed definite form." These late notices are manifestly 
 vague and inexact references to rudimentary histrionicism among 
 the choreutae themselves or between them and their coryphaeus. 
 
 ^ Cf. Plutarch Solon xxix. If Thespis treated the traditional myths with some 
 freedom, that may have added to Solon's anger. 
 
 ^ Cf. Diogenes Laertius iii. 56: rb iroKaibv iv ttj rpayipdig. wpdrepov fj^v /j,6vos 6 
 Xophs SteSpa/xdrtfiEf, vffTepov 8^ G^cTTris ^va inroKpiTTjv i^evpev virep rod diavairaveo'dat 
 rbv xopov. 
 
 3 Cf. The Origin of Tragedy, p. 6o.
 
 INTRODUCTION 19 
 
 The first of them is probably due to a false inference from a 
 scene in some comedy.^ It is true that the invention of the 
 first actor is expressly attributed to Thespis only by Diogenes, 
 yet it may be inferred in several other connections. Evidently 
 the matter is largely one of definition. Ridgeway himself con- 
 cedes all that is important, when he continues: "There seems 
 no reason to doubt that Thespis in some way defined more 
 exactly the position of the actor, especially by the introduction 
 of a simple form of mask." 
 
 In the second place, Ridgeway considers that Thespis made 
 the "grand step" in the evolution of tragedy when he 
 
 detached his chorus and dithyramb from some particular shrine, probably 
 at Icaria, his native place, and taking his company with him on wagons gave 
 his performances on his extemporised stage when and where he could find 
 an audience, not for religious purposes but for a pastime. Thus not merely 
 by defining more accurately the role of the actor but also by lifting tragedy 
 from being a mere piece of reUgious ritual tied to a particular spot into a 
 great form of Uterature, he was the true founder of the tragic art. This view 
 offers a reasonable explanation of Solon's anger on first seeing Thespis act. 
 A performance which he would have regarded as fit and proper when enacted 
 in some shrine of the gods or at a hero's tomb, not unnaturally roused his 
 indignation when the exhibition was merely "for sport," as Thespis himself 
 said (and doubtless also for profit), and not at some hallowed spot, but in 
 any profane place where an audience might conveniently be collected [op. 
 cit., p. 61]. 
 
 Not only does such an interpretation find no support in Plutarch's 
 anecdote but it is highly improbable as well. It may be granted 
 that after long neglect Thespis' "wagon"^ seems to be enjoying 
 a recrudescence of favor. Dieterich and von Wilamowitz have 
 referred to it in all seriousness.^ There is nothing improbable 
 about the tradition nor any compelling reason for supposing it 
 borrowed from the history of early comedy. It is natural to 
 suppose that Thespis did not restrict his activities to Icaria, but 
 
 ' Cf. Hiller, Rheinisches Museum fiir Philologie, XXXIX (1884), 329. 
 ' Cf. Horace Ars Poetica, vs. 276: 
 
 dicitur et plaustris vexisse poemata Thespis. 
 ^ Cf. Kleine Schriften,p. 422, and Neue J ahrbiicher fur das klassische AUertum, 
 XXIX (1912), 474. 
 
 " 11 M"!!*^
 
 20 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 extended them to such other demes as were interested or found 
 them appropriate to their festivals. In that case, means of 
 transportation for performers and accessories became imperative. 
 The use of such a vehicle in the Prometheus Bound of Aeschylus 
 shows that it need not necessarily have served also as a stage, 
 as has sometimes been thought. Now, as a matter of fact, 
 several Attic vases, dating from the close of the sixth century 
 B.C., represent the "wagon-ship" of Dionysus (Fig. 65). Just 
 what relationship subsisted between primitive drama and the 
 scenes depicted upon these vases has yet to be definitely estab- 
 lished. Dr. Frickenhaus would associate them with the pre- 
 liminary procession at the City Dionysia (see p. 121, below). 
 But at least, until such time as any connection with Thespis' 
 wagon has been shown to be impossible, the suggestion can 
 scarcely be laughed out of court as utterly ridiculous. On the 
 other hand, to suppose that Thespis entirely dissociated his 
 performances from shrines and festivals not only rests upon no 
 evidence but is so out of harmony with other data as to be 
 incredible. 
 
 Whether the innovation of treating non-Dionysiac themes in 
 tragedy must also be credited to Thespis before he brought his 
 career to a close must remain a matter of doubt, though person- 
 ally I am inclined to suppose so, Siiidas^ reports Phorhas or the 
 Prizes of Pelias, Priests, Youths, and Pentheus as the titles of 
 four of his plays. Of these the last is clearly Dionysiac, the 
 first probably is not, and the other two are noncommittal. This 
 evidence, however, cannot be relied upon, for the reason that 
 Aristoxenus is said to have declared that Heraclides Ponticus 
 wrote tragedies and attributed them to Thespis.^ 
 
 But as we are not told that these plays bore the same titles as those 
 ascribed to Thespis by Suidas, it does not by any means follow that the 
 latter are spurious. But even if the titles were the same, it is not unlikely 
 that Heraclides would have chosen as titles for his spurious compositions 
 
 ' Cf. Suidas, s.v. "Thespis": /JLvrifioveveTaL 8^ twv Bpafidruv avrov 'A^Xa IleX/oi/ 
 ^ €>6p/3as, 'lepeis, 'Kldeoi, UepOevs. 
 
 ' Cf. Diogenes Laertius v. 92. Both Aristoxenus and Heraclides were pupils 
 of Aristotle.
 
 INTRODUCTION 21 
 
 names declared by tradition to be those of genuine works of the Father 
 of Attic Tragedy. The titles as they have reached us indicate that the 
 ancients most certainly did not believe that Thespis confined himself to 
 Dionysiac subjects.^ 
 
 In any case, this development could not have been long 
 deferred after 534 B.C. To the more conservative it is said to 
 have given offense ; according to some authorities, the expression 
 "Nothing to do with Dionysus" took its rise at this juncture.^ 
 Simultaneously, or at least only a little subsequently, the tragic 
 choreutae were no longer dressed to represent sileni but whatever 
 the needs of the individual play demanded, often plain citizens 
 of Athens, Corinth, Thebes, etc. 
 
 Even after all that Thespis did for it tragedy must still have 
 been a crude, coarse, only semi-literary affair. Nevertheless, in 
 534 B.C., when Pisistratus, tyrant of Athens, established a new 
 festival called the City Dionysia, in honor of Dionysus Eleu- 
 thereus,^ he made a contest in tragedy the chief feature of its 
 program. As was but fitting, Thespis won the first goat prize 
 ever awarded in this Athenian festival.'* It is unnecessary to 
 enlarge upon this recognition except to protest against a not 
 uncommon tendency to assume that terms like Tpay<^8La and 
 Tpayuidos were not in use before this date. Of course, the 
 matter can not be definitely proved, but the evolution which 
 I have been tracing at Sicyon and Icaria distinctly favors the 
 other view. 
 
 We have seen that Aristotle's statements ought not to be 
 ignored or lightly rejected. On the other hand, it is no less 
 important to read nothing into his language which does not 
 belong there. Thus, when he declares: "Discarding short 
 
 " Cf. Ridgeway, op. cit., p. 69. 
 
 * Cf. Suidas, s.v. oidiv vpbs rbv Ai6vv<tov (quoted on p. 29, n. 2, below). 
 
 ^ The cognomen was due to the belief that the image and cult were derived 
 from Eleutherae. At Eleutherae itself, however, his cognomen would naturally be 
 different. There he was known as Acdwcros Me\dvaiyi.s, "Dionysus of the Black- 
 Goat-Skin." From this fact an abortive attempt has recently been made to derive 
 a new explanation for tragic performances being denominated "goat-songs"; 
 cf. Classical Philology, VIII (1913), 270. 
 
 * Cf. M armor Parium (quoted on p. 14, n. 2, above).
 
 22 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 stories and a ludicrous diction, through its passing out of its 
 satyric stage, tragedy assumed, though only at a late point in its 
 progress, a tone of dignity,"^ the phrase dia to Ik aaTvpiKov 
 IxtTa^oXelv 6\J/e aireaenvwdr) has generally been taken to mean 
 that tragedy developed out of a form like the satyric dramas 
 known to us, in the next century, from Sophocles' Trackers and 
 Euripides' Cyclops. For such a historical development no other 
 testimony can be cited until Byzantine times (see p. 29 and n. 2, 
 below) . Now this interpretation of Aristotle's phrase has always 
 involved certain difficulties and has been pronounced inconsistent 
 with his other statement that tragedy developed "from the 
 leaders of the dithyramb." But in my opinion we must accept 
 Reisch's interpretation: "We are certainly not warranted in 
 translating e/c (rarvpiKov baldly as 'from the satyr-play.' On the 
 contrary, Aristotle is speaking only of the *satyr-play-like origin' 
 and of the 'satyr-like poetry' (as Theodor Gomperz suitably 
 renders it in his translation) ; and from this, first of all, only a 
 family relationship between primitive tragedy and the satyr- 
 play, not an identity, may be inferred."^ The same thought 
 recurs in Aristotle's next sentence, when he says: "The iambic 
 measure then replaced the trochaic tetrameter, which was 
 originally employed when the poetry was of the satyric order, and 
 had greater affinities with dancing."^ In other words, though 
 early Attic tragedy never received the name of "satyric drama," 
 and though its choreutae were probably sileni and not satyrs, 
 nevertheless, since the Thespian and pre-Thespian performances, 
 by reason of their obscenities, grotesque language, ludicrous and 
 
 ' Cf. Poetics i449ai9 ff., Bywater's translation. 
 
 ^ Cf. op. cit., p. 472. This exegesis has now been commended by Pickard- 
 Cambridge; cf. Classical Review, XXVI (1912), 53. Cornford has expressed the 
 same view by means of a neat paraphrase: sk <ra.TvpLKov els <yefj.vhv fj.eTipaXev, cf . The 
 Origin of Attic Comedy (1914), p. 214, n. i. Gomperz' translation (1897) reads as 
 foUows: "Was das Wachstum ihrer Grossartigkeit anlangt, so hat sich das Trauer- 
 spiel im Gegensatze zur urspriinglichen Kleinheit der Fabeln und der zum Possen- 
 haften neigenden Artung der Diction ihres satyrspielartigen Ursprungs wegen erst 
 
 spat zu hoherer Wiirde erhoben Urspriinglich hatte man sich namlich, da 
 
 die Dichtung satyrhaft und mehr balletartig war, des trochaischen Tetrameters 
 bedient." 
 
 ' Cf. Poetics 1449022 f., Butcher's translation.
 
 INTRODUCTION 23 
 
 • 
 
 undignified tone, the predominance of choral odes, etc., bore a 
 certain resemblance to the contemporaneous exhibitions of 
 satyrs in the Peloponnesus and to Pratinas' satyric drama in 
 Athens at a later period, it can truthfully be said that tragedy 
 had passed through a "satyric stage" and h&d had a "satyric" 
 tinge which it was slow to lose. 
 
 What, then, was the origin of the performance which in the 
 fifth century constituted the final member of tetralogies ? Such 
 tetralogies cannot be made out for any playwright before 
 
 /^...Aeschylus; and the number of plays attributed to Pratinas, 
 eighteen tragedies and thirty-two satyric dramas, throws 
 additional doubt upon the probability that the early poets were 
 
 [required to present four plays together.^ We have thus far 
 considered three types of performances: the improvisational 
 dithyramb, which was still continued in rural and primitive 
 districts; the improved dithyramb (in 508 B.C. dithyrambic 
 choruses of men were added to the program of the City Dionysia 
 at Athens), and tragedy. The last two had by this time become 
 semi-literary types. Now we are expressly told, and there is no 
 reason to discredit the information, that Pratinas of Phliifs in 
 the Peloponnesus was "the first to write satyr-plays."^ The 
 general situation is clear. After tragedy had lost its exclusively 
 Bacchic themes and had considerably departed from its original 
 character, Pratinas endeavored to satisfy religious conservatism 
 by introducing a new manner of production, which came to be 
 
 ' In 467 B.C. Aristias concluded his tragedies with the Palaestae, "a satyric 
 drama of his father Pratinas" (cf. arg. Aesch. Seven against Thebes). It is generally 
 supposed that this was a posthumous piece. But Professor Capps suggests that 
 Pratinas may frequently have provided a satyr-play for someone's else trilogy, 
 and thus explains the disproportionate number of satyric dramas in Pratinas' list 
 and of tragedies in other poets' lists. 
 
 * Cf. Suidas, ^.z;. " Pratinas" : .... ^\idcnoi, TroLrjTTji rpaycfSiai, dvTT]ywvl^€To 
 Alo'X'i^V '''* '^"■^ ^oipCKif), iwl TTJs ep8ofirjKO(TTrjs OXv/XTriddos, Kal wpwTos eypaxpe 
 ^arvpovs .... Kal Spdfj,aTa p.kv iweBei^aTO v', &v SaTupiKot X^'. iviKfjcre d^ dira^. 
 Note that the earhest name was simply Sdrypot, "satyrs." Murray has proposed 
 ailother interpretation of Suidas' phrase: "I take this to mean that Pratinas was 
 the first person to write words for the revelling masquers to learn by heart. Thes- 
 pis, like many early Elizabethans, had been content with a general direction: 
 'Enter Satyrs, in revel, saying anything' " (incorporated in Miss Harrison's Themis, 
 p. 344). Nevertheless, he adds that he "does not wish to combat" the other view.
 
 24 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 called satyric drama. This was a combination of the dramatic 
 dithyramb of his native Phlius, which of course had developed 
 somewhat since the days of Arion and Epigenes, and of con- 
 temporary Attic tragedy; and it had the merit of continuing, 
 at least for a while, the Dionysiac subjects which were so appro- 
 priate to the god's festival. It appears that at first satyr-plays 
 were brought out independently of tragedy and in greater 
 numbers, comparatively, than was afterward the case. But 
 about 501 B.C. the City Dionysia was reorganized: the goat 
 prize was abandoned; /ccojuot, i.e., the volunteer performances 
 from which comedy was later to develop, were added to the 
 program ; and, in particular, the regulation was established that 
 each tragic poet must present three tragedies and one satyr-play 
 in a series. Pratinas is known to have competed against Aeschy- 
 lus about 499 B.C. His innovation doubtless fell somewhere 
 between the institution of the tragic contest in 534 B.C. and the 
 reorganization of the festival program in 501 B.C., possibly about 
 515 B.C. 
 
 There remains the difficult problem^ as to the appearance of 
 the choreutae in the satyric drama at different periods in Athens. 
 Fortunately the aspect of non-dramatic sileni and satyrs is fairly 
 certain. Already on the Francois vase, a crater signed by 
 Clitias and Ergotimus and belonging to about 600-550 B.C., 
 there are representations of three ithyphallic creatures with 
 equine ears, hoofs, and tails (Fig. 3).^ An inscription 5IAEN0I 
 leaves no doubt as to the identity of the figures. Mr. A. B. Cook 
 fists six other vases from Attica which bear the same identifying 
 inscription.^ None of these seven vases, however, betrays any 
 relationship to the theater. 
 
 On the other hand, a list' of fifteen Attic vases has been drawn 
 up on which goat-men appear. None of these antedates 450 B.C., 
 
 " Fig. 3 is taken from Furtwangler and Reichhold, Griechische Vasenmalarei, 
 first series, II, Pis. i i-i 2. The membrum virile has been omitted in the reproduction. 
 
 " Cf. op. cit.y I, 696 f. 
 
 3 This was originally assembled by Hartwig in Romiscke Mittheilungen, XII 
 (1897), 89 ff. and Wernicke, op. cit. It is now conveniently summarized by Cook, 
 op. cit., pp. 697 fE.
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 25 
 
 SO that it is clear that such figures did not go back to a remote 
 period in Athenian history. In fact, they can hardly be con- 
 ceived of as preceding Pratinas' introduction of the satyric 
 drama toward the close of the sixth century. Unfortunately 
 none of these vases is inscribed with the name of the creatures 
 depicted, but the caprine ears, hoofs, horns, and tails scarcely 
 leave room for doubt that these creatures, like similar figures of 
 Hellenistic and Roman times, were known as satyrs. With one 
 possible exception (Fig. 9), which will be discussed presently, 
 
 Fig. 4. — Preparations for a Satyric Drama from a Naples Crater of About 
 
 400 B.C. 
 
 See p. 25, n. i 
 
 these representations also have no direct relationship to the 
 theater. It would thus appear that from first to last a clear 
 distinction was drawn, outside the sphere of theatrical influence, 
 between the equine sileni and the caprine satyrs. 
 
 Of the vases which may certainly be regarded as representing 
 scenes from satyric drama the best known and most pretentious 
 is a crater in Naples (Fig. 4).^ This and a crater at Deepdene 
 were painted about 400 B.C. Somewhat earlier are another 
 crater at Deepdene, a dinos at Athens (Figs. 5 and 6), and frag- 
 ments of two dinoi at Bonn (Fig, 7).^ The last three are derived 
 
 ' Fig. 4 is taken from Baumeister, Denkmiiler, Fig. 422. The two craters at 
 Deepdene are illustrated in Cook, op. ciL, PI. XXXIX, Figs. 1-2. 
 
 "The three dinoi are discussed by Miss Bieber in Athenische Mitteilungen, 
 XXXVI (1911), 269 ff. and PI. XIII, Figs. 1-3 and PI. XIV, Figs. 1-5. My Figs. 5-7 
 are taken from her publication, corresponding to PI. XIII, Fig. i, PI. XIV, Fig. 4,
 
 26 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 from the same original. On the Naples crater preparations for 
 a satyr-play are being made in the presence of Dionysus and 
 Ariadne, who are seen in an affectionate embrace in the center 
 of the top row. The names of the figures are made known by 
 inscriptions in most cases but are not always significant. Just 
 beyond Ariadne, Love ("I/xepos) hovers above an uninscribed actor 
 in women's costume, whose mask is provided with a Scythian 
 cap. The next figure is Heracles (inscribed) and the next is 
 thought to be Silenus. Beyond Dionysus is an uninscribed actor 
 in royal costume. Except Love, all these figures carry masks 
 and constitute the histrionic personages in the drama. It has 
 been claimed with great plausibility that the play dealt with 
 Heracles' exploits at Troy.^ In that case the king is Laomedon 
 and the maiden is Hesione, his daughter, who was rescued from 
 the sea monster by Heracles. To the right of the dancing 
 choreutes in the lower row is the flute-player (Pronomus), who 
 will furnish the accompaniment for the lyrical portions of the 
 play; to the left is Demetrius with a roll in his hand, probably 
 the poet. The remaining twelve figures are probably choreutae 
 and bear more directly upon our present investigation. Most of 
 them carry masks, and they have human feet and no horns. 
 They resemble sileni in having long equine tails. The sole 
 resemblance to satyrs is found in the fact that nine of them wear 
 a shaggy covering about the loins, supposedly a goatskin. The 
 waistband upon the choreutes in the extreme upper left-hand 
 corner, however, resembles cloth trunks more than a skin. Yet 
 this divergence is probably to be explained as due to carelessness 
 or a whim on the part of the draftsman instead of to an 
 essential difference in material. This appears plainly from a 
 
 and PI. XrV, Figs, i and 2 respectively. Cook maintains that all six vases are 
 descended from a fresco by Polygnotus, op. cit., pp. 700 f.; but this suggestion 
 seems improbable. 
 
 ' Cf. De Prott, "De Amphora Neapolitana Fabulae Satyricae Apparatum 
 Scaeniciun Repraesentante," in Schedae Philologicae Hermanno Usenet Oblatae 
 (Bonn, 1891), pp. 47 ff. It seems strange that De Prott should mar his own 
 interpretation by supposing the figure whom I have called Hesione to be a Muse. 
 The Scythian cap ought to be decisive.
 
 Fig. 3. — Caprine Sileni unon the Francois Vase, 600-550 B.C. 
 See p 24, n. i 
 
 Fig. 5. — View of a Satyr-Play from a Dinos in Athens 
 See p. 25, n. 2
 
 Fig. 6. — View of a Satyr-Play from a Dinos in Athens 
 
 See p. 25, n. 2 
 
 Fig. 7. — Views of a Satyr-Play from a Uinos in Bonn 
 See p. 25, n. 2
 
 INTRODUCTION 27 
 
 study of the other vases in this series, on which the loin-bands 
 resemble the trunks of the last-mentioned choreutes on the 
 Naples crater rather than the skins of his nine companions. 
 None the less, a multitude of short dashes on the waistbands in 
 one of the Bonn dinoi (Fig. 7) is plainly intended to characterize 
 them as skins, and the bands on the Deepdene craters are 
 "patterned in such a way as to suggest a fringed or shaggy edge." 
 An illuminating side light upon the freedom which the painter 
 exercised is afforded by a comparison of the left-hand choreutae 
 in Figs. 6 and 7. These are identical figures in different copies 
 of the same original; yet the shagginess of the loin-band is 
 clearly indicated in the one and entirely omitted in the other. 
 Moreover, the choreutes on the other dinos at Bonn seems to 
 wear no waistband at all!' In conclusion, it will be observed 
 that, except for variations in the representation of the conven- 
 tionalized goatskin, the choreutae upon all these vases are 
 exactly alike :^ they all have human feet, no horns, and equine 
 tails. It is evident that by 400 B.C. or a little earlier this type 
 had become standardized for theatrical purposes. That it 
 suffered no material modification thereafter appears from a 
 Pompeian mosaic (Fig. 8).^ 
 
 It is plain that this was the type of satyr which the unknown 
 source of the notice in Etymologicum Magnum had in mind when 
 attempting to explain the etymology of t paycjobla: ". . . . or 
 because the choruses generally consisted of satyrs whom they 
 called 'goats' in jest either on account of the shagginess of their 
 bodies or on account of their lasciviousness, for the animal is of 
 such a sort; or because the choreutae plaited their hair, imitating 
 
 ' Cf. Miss Bieber, op. ciL, PI. XIV, Fig. 3. 
 
 * Except the eleventh and twelfth choreutae on the Naples crater (Fig. 4), 
 viz., the figure with a lyre near the middle of the lower row and the fully clad figure 
 next to the last on the right. If De Prott is correct in considering these figures 
 choreutae, they must be regarded (I suppose) as having not yet completed their 
 make-up. 
 
 3 Fig. 8 is taken from Baumeister, Denkmdler, Fig. 424. The choreutae in this 
 scene are not to be understood as having no tails; their position does not permit 
 this feature to be seen, cf. Haigh, The Attic Theatre^, p. 293, note.
 
 28 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 the form of goats. "^ This passage has been used to support the 
 canonical doctrine that tragedy was the child of satyric drama 
 (see pp. 2 and 22 f., above), but is far from adequate for that 
 purpose. The words after dacxurrjTa (" shagginess") are often 
 ignored or even omitted. But it is necessary to interpret the 
 
 Fig. 8. — Poet and Choreutae of a Satyric Drama from a Pompeian Mosaic 
 
 See p. 27, n. 3 
 
 final phrase, "imitating the form of goats," in terms of the 
 details stated in the context. So far as we are now concerned, 
 the only point of resemblance mentioned is their "shagginess." 
 This and Horace's expression about the tragic poet "stripping 
 
 ^ a. Elymologicum Magnum, s.v. rpayt^dla: .... i^Sn Ta-rroWaoi xopol iK 
 ffaripwv avviffTavTO, oOs iKdXovv rpdyovs (TKdnrrovTes ^ 8ia ttjv tov ffdip-aroi 5a<TVT-r)ra 
 ^ Std TTtv irepl t4 dcf)poSl(TLa <nrov5r)v • toiovtov yap rb fyov. fj 6ti ol xopevral rds 
 Kdfiai av^ir\€KOv, (TxVfia rpdywv (M/iovpLevoL.
 
 INTRODUCTION 29 
 
 his satyrs" for the satyr-play^ would be entirely suitable in 
 describing the choreutae on the Naples crater. Furthermore, it 
 will be noted that this explanation occurs only in a late Byzantine 
 notice and that no earlier source is mentioned. The only way 
 in which a respectable antiquity can be claimed, by means of 
 literary evidence, for this interpretation consists in maintaining 
 that it is implicit in Aristotle's phrase e'/c ffaTvpiKov ixere^aXeu. 
 But we have already seen (see p. 22, above), that this expression 
 need not, and probably does not, support this view. The only 
 other passage which can be cited in this connection occurs in 
 three other Byzantine writers.^ The conclusion is irresistible 
 that both the goat-men explanation of the word rpaycodia and the 
 supposed development of tragedy from satyric drama are due to 
 "reconstructions" of literary history at an extremely late period. 
 Evidently this standard type of theatrical satyr took its 
 genesis from an amalgamation of the caprine satyrs and the 
 equine sileni. It is significant that in Euripides' Cyclops and 
 Sophocles' Trackers Silenus is one of the characters and is the 
 father of the chorus. These satyr-plays were brought out in the 
 vicinity of 440 B.c.^ The question now arises: Was this con- 
 ventional type the invention of Pratinas or did it develop later ? 
 It will be remembered that in the list of fifteen fifth-century vases 
 from Attica on which representations of goat-men occur (see 
 p. 25, above), one was mentioned as having a possible connection 
 
 ^ Cf. Horace Ars Poetica, vss. 220 f : 
 
 carmine qui tragico vilem certavit ob hircum, 
 mox etiam agrestis Satyros nudavit, etc. 
 
 * Cf. Suidas and Photius, s.v. ovSkv irpbs rhv AlSw^ov and Apostolius xiii. 42. 
 After giving the explanation of this phrase already cited on p. 12, n. 3, above, they 
 continue: jS^Xnov S^ oOtws, t6 irpdcrdev els rhv At.6vv(rov ypd<f>ovT€s tovtols rjyiovl- 
 ^ovTo, direp Kal 'SarvpiKa iXiyero- varepov 8e fxeTa^dvTes els rb rpayipdlas ypdcpeiv, 
 Kara, fiiKpbv els fj-vOovs Kal iffTopias irpdin^crav, fjLTjKiTi toO Aiovvffov fiuij/jLOvevovTes, 
 6dev TOVTO Kal iir€(p(i)vr]crav. Kal Xap.ai\^wv iv rip Tiepl Q^a-iri8os rd irapairXi^ffia 
 Icrropei. The word Trapaw\-q<ria leaves it doubtful for how much of this notice 
 Chamaeleon (Aristotle's pupil) should be held responsible. But at the most his 
 accountability cannot extend beyond explaining the introduction of non-Dionysiac 
 themes; the side remarks are Byzantine. 
 
 3 Cf. von Wilamowitz, N. Jahrbiicher f. kl. Altertum, XXIX (1912), 461, and 
 Tanner, Transactions American Philological Association, XL VI (1915), 173 ff.
 
 30 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 with the theater. The single exception is a crater in the British 
 Museum of about 450 B.C. (Fig. 9).^ The upper design on the 
 same side of the vase represents the decking of Pandora, and it is 
 commonly thought that the two scenes belong together and are 
 derived from a satyr-play deahng with Pandora. However 
 that may be, the presence of a flute-player would seem to indi- 
 cate that at least Fig. 9 is theatrical. If so, the choreutae are 
 not of the t)^e which we have been studying, but true satyrs 
 with caprine hoofs, horns, and tails.^ About their loins they 
 wear trunks, which in three cases are painted black (to represent 
 a goatskin?) but in one case are left unpainted. Now from 
 
 Fig. 9. — Satyrs on a British Museum Crater of About 450 b.c. 
 See p. 30, n. i 
 
 Aeschylus' satyric drama entitled Prometheus the Fire-Kindler 
 is preserved a line "O goat, you will mourn (lose) your beard," 
 which was addressed by Prometheus to a satyr who wished to 
 kiss a flame and which has been used as proof that the choreutae 
 were caprine in appearance.^ Again, in Sophocles' Trackers 
 occur the words: "For though you are young with a flourishing 
 
 ' Fig. 9 is taken from the Journal of Hellenic Studies, XI (1890), PI. XI, and is 
 reproduced by permission of the Council of the Hellenic Society. 
 
 * Reisch, op. cit., pp. 456 f., considers the goat-men Pans, or choreutae in some 
 such comedy as Eupolis' Alyes. 
 
 3 Cf. Nauck, Tragicorum Graecorum Fragmenla, p. 69, fr. 207: 
 Tpdyos yiveiov apa. wevd'^o'eis ffv ye. 
 The use of the nominative rpdyos instead of a vocative is harsh, and Shorey, 
 Classical Philology, IV (1909), 433 ff., interprets the line as an abbreviated 
 comparison with ws omitted: " <If you kiss that fire>, you'U be the goat (in the 
 proverb) who mourned his beard." Of course, this play must have been written 
 considerably before 456 b.c, the year of Aeschylus' decease.
 
 INTRODUCTION 3 1 
 
 beard, you revel as a goat in the thistles."^ Finally, in Eurip- 
 ides' Cyclops the chorus speak of wandering about ''with this 
 poor goatskin cloak."^ Although these passages do not con- 
 stitute proof that the dramatic satyrs were of caprine appear- 
 ance, they gain considerably in point if we may suppose that 
 they were, and to that extent they confirm the evidence of the 
 British Museum crater. 
 
 Such, then, is the penultimate stage in the evolution of the 
 satyric chorus, and many authorities are content to stop here. 
 But there remains evidence for a still earlier stage. A British 
 Museum psykter by Duris (Fig. lo)^ represents ten "choreutae'' 
 and a herald, and a British Museum cylix by Brygus contains two 
 scenes, in one of which three "choreutae" are attacking Iris 
 before Dionysus and his altar and in the other Hermes and 
 Heracles are protecting Hera from four "choreutae.""* These 
 vases belong to about 480 B.C., and the "choreutae" upon them 
 have human feet, no horns, no loin-bands, and equine ears and 
 tails. Reisch is undoubtedly correct ' in recognizing in these 
 scenes at least the indirect influence of the satyr-play.^ Further- 
 more, a similar figure appears upon a Wiirzburg cylix of about 
 500 B.C. (Fig. 11).^ This bears the inscription ^ATPYB^, a 
 
 ' Cf. Oxyrhynchus Papyri, IX (1912), 59: 
 
 vios yap u)v dvTjp 
 TTuycjvi ddWwv us rpdyos Kvr)K(^ xXtS^iy. 
 
 ' Cf . Euripides' Cyclops, vss. 79 f . : 
 
 SoCXos akalvuiv 
 ffiiv Tq,de rpdyov xXat';'^ /MeX^g.. 
 Reisch thinks the goatskin characterized the chorus as shepherds; cf. op. cit., 
 p. 458, note; Ridgeway considers it "the meanest form of apparel that could be 
 worn by a slave"; cf. Origin of Tragedy, p. 87. 
 
 3 Fig. 10 is taken from Hober, Griechische Vasen, Fig. 57 (1909). 
 
 * Cf. Reinach, Repertoire des Vases Feints, I, 193, or Baumeister, Denkmaler, 
 Supplementtafel, Fig. 7. 
 
 s Cf. op. cit., p. 459. The possibiUty of direct borrowing had already been 
 denied by Wernicke, op. cit., pp. 302-6. Wernicke's objections are not altogether 
 convincing. 
 
 * Fig. 1 1 is taken from a photograph for which I am indebted to Professor 
 Heinrich Bulle. He was also kind enough to express the following judgment with
 
 32 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 manifest mistake for aarvpos. Here we have the earliest repre- 
 sentation of a satyi (identified by inscription) in Attica. And 
 though it does not belong to a theatrical scene, its divergence 
 from contemporaneous satyrs of the Peloponnesus and from 
 Attic satyrs of a later period can be explained only on the basis 
 of the appearance of the choreutae in contemporaneous satyr- 
 plays. The Duris psykter and the Brygus cylix show that this 
 type did not at once disappear. 
 
 To my mind the meaning of all this is fairly clear. When 
 Pratinas attempted to restore the Dionysiac element to con- 
 temporaneous drama at Athene: , he kept the Peloponnesian name 
 but did not venture to shock conservatives still further by 
 disclosing to their eyes creatures so foreign and strange as the 
 Dorian goat-men would have been. Accordingly, he transformed 
 his satyrs so as to approximate the sileni of native traged}^^ 
 After fifty or sixty years, however, satyric drama had become so 
 thoroughly at home in Athens that the experiment was tried of 
 imposing the Peloponnesian type unchanged upon the Attic 
 choruses. But the reaction could not and did not endure. In 
 two or three decades the final type had emerged, such as we see 
 it in the Naples crater. Except for the goatskin about the 
 loins, which is often highly conventionalized, the native sileni 
 are at every point victorious. 
 
 The Greeks were inordinately fond of associating every 
 invention or new literary genre with some one's name as dis- 
 coverer (evperris). In the case of tragedy the problem was 
 unusually complicated. In later years Arion, Epigenes, and 
 
 regard to the inscription: "Ich kann nicht mit Ch. Frankel, Satyr- und Bakchen- 
 namen atif Vasenbildern (1912), S. 35, der Lesung von Schulze {Gottinger gel. 
 Anz. 1896, S. 254) $1 BYPTA^ zustimmen; denn die Inschrif t ist ja rechtslaiifig. 
 Man kann iibrigens auch deutlich an dem Kleinerwerden der Buchstaben sehen, 
 dass der Zeichner von links nach rechts geschrieben hat. Ich glaube mit Urlichs, 
 {Verzeichniss d. Antikensammhmg d. Univ. Wiirsburgs, I, S. 50), dass es eine 
 einfache Verschreibung aus S ATTPOS ist." The membrum virile has been omitted 
 in the reproduction. 
 
 ' Cf. the contemporaneous sileni in connection with the "wagon-ship" of 
 Dionysus; see Fig. 65 and p. 121, below.
 
 Fig. II. — A Satyr upon a Wiirzburg Cylix of About 500 B.C. 
 See p. 31, n. 6 
 
 Fig. 12. — A Comus upon a Berlin Amphora 
 See p. 38, n. 2
 
 INTRODUCTION 33 
 
 Thespis all had their partisans. The last named is the one most 
 frequently mentioned, and strictly speaking this view is correct. 
 But more broadly considered, the question largely depends upon 
 the stage of development to which one is willing to apply the 
 word "tragedy." To many moderns, with almost two and a 
 half millenniums of dramatic history as a background, Aeschylus 
 will seem the first tragic playwright. At least, in his hands 
 tragedy became for the first time real literature. 
 
 The foregoing treatment will show that I do not believe a 
 study of the origin of religion to be indispensable for a discussion 
 of the origin of Greek tragedy. Prior to Arion and Epigenes 
 there was nothing which the most fanciful could recognize as 
 akin to modern tragedy. After the work of Thespis and Aeschy- 
 lus no one can fail to note its presence. To trace, so far as we 
 may, the gradual unfolding of the new genre from a state of 
 nonexistence to a period of vigorous growth seems to me a 
 concrete problem and distinctly worth while. The songs and 
 dances from which tragedy and the satyr-play developed were 
 associated, at the period when they became truly dramatic, with the 
 worship of Dionysus, and at that same period Dionysus was as 
 truly a "g(^d" (as distinct from a *'hero") as any that the Greeks 
 ever knew. To abandon these plain facts and others like them 
 in favor of vague theorizing on religious origins will never bring 
 us satisfactory results. Now, in his Origin of Tragedy Ridgeway, 
 who may serve as a protagonist of this method, recognized 
 only the satyr-play as Dionysiac in origin, and attempted to 
 dissociate tragedy and the dithyramb from that deity and to 
 derive them from ceremonies at the tombs of heroes, i.e., from 
 ancestor worship. I cannot conceive that many classical scholars 
 will believe him to have succeeded in this attempt. Ridgeway 
 evidently foresaw this and tried to forestall it by saying that 
 ''as Dionysus himself had almost certainly once been only a 
 Thracian hero, even if it were true that Tragedy had risen from 
 his cult, its real ultimate origin would still be in the worship of 
 the dead" {op. cit., p. 93). What, then, was the point in his
 
 34 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAJVIA 
 
 conceding that satyric drama was Dionysiac in origin ? In that 
 case the ultimate origins of tragedy and satyric drama must, 
 after all, have been identical, and the differences in their origins 
 must have consisted only of the minor divergencies in the final 
 stage of their development. In practice, how does this result 
 differ from the more usual procedure, which ignores the ultimate 
 sources and concentrates attention upon the last stage of develop- 
 ment? So far as I can see, it would differ only to the extent 
 that the underlying religion of both genres would now be under- 
 stood to be ancestor worship. But this distinction loses all 
 meaning, for the reason that m his last volume Ridgeway main- 
 tains that ''Vegetation, Corn, and Tree spirits, as well as those 
 of rocks, mountains, and rivers, and what are collectively termed 
 Totemistic beliefs," fertility-rites, initiation-rites, mana, "the 
 worship of Demeter and almost^ all other Greek deities" are 
 "not primary phenomena but merely secondary and dependent 
 on the primary belief in the immortality and durability of the 
 soul," and consequently that tragedy and serious drama (being 
 everywhere associated with some form of religion) not only in 
 Greece but "wherever they are found under the sun have their 
 roots in the world-wide belief in the continued existence of the 
 soul after the death of the body."^ How much of truth there 
 •Inay be in Ridgeway's contention that ancestor worship is prior 
 to and the ultimate source of other forms of religion I shall not 
 stop to discuss. But the practical value of so universal a general- 
 ization has been well expressed by another: "Even if it can be 
 shown that your far-off ancestor was an ape, it does not follow 
 that your father was an ape."^ In other words, in spite of any 
 resemblance which may have obtained between the ultimate 
 forms of Dionysiac worship and the true veneration of heroes, at 
 the time when tragedy actually came into being the existing differ- 
 
 ' Why "almost" is inserted here does not appear. Many Greek divinities are 
 mentioned on Ridgeway's pages, but none is recognized as "totally independent" 
 of the cult of the dead. 
 
 ' Cf. his Dramas and Dramatic Dances, etc., pp. 63, 337, 385, and passim. 
 3 Cf. Marrett, Classical Review, XXX (1916), 159.
 
 INTRODUCTION 35 
 
 ences between them were of much greater significance than any- 
 alleged identity of origin in the far-distant past could have been. 
 If it were possible for Ridgeway to substantiate his first position, 
 viz., that tragedy arose directly from the worship of the hero 
 Adrastus at Sicyon, or the like, there would be some meaning in 
 his work. But his doctrine of ultimate derivation loses itself in 
 primeval darkness. 
 
 The Origin of Comedy.^— -The difficulty of this problem was 
 recognized as early as Aristotle: 
 
 Now the successive changes in tragedy and the persons who were 
 instrumental thereto have not passed into oblivion, but comedy did suffer 
 oblivion for the reason that it was not at first taken seriously. And a proof 
 of this is found in the fact that it was relatively late [viz., 486 B.C.] before 
 the archon granted a chorus of comic performers; they used to be volunteers. 
 And comedy already had certain forms when the aforementioned comic 
 poets [i.e., Chionides and Magnes, the first comedians after oflScial recogni- 
 tion was granted] appear in the records. Who furnished it with "char- 
 acters" {TrpoawTray or prologues or number of actors and the like remains 
 unknown. Developing a regular plot was a Sicilian invention, but of the 
 Athenians the first to abandon the "iambic" or lampooning form and to 
 begin to fashion comprehensive themes and plots was Crates.^ » 
 
 ' Cf . Zielinski, Die Glicderung der altattischen Komodie (1885); Humphreys, 
 "The Agon of the Old Comedy," American Journal of Philology, VIII (1887), 
 179 ff.; Poppelreuter, De Comoediae Atticae Primordiis (1893); A. Korte, " Archao- 
 logische Studien zur alten Komodie," Jahrhuch d. archaologischen Instituts, VIII 
 (1893), 61 ff.; Loeschcke, Athenische Mittheilungen, XIX (1894), 518, note; Bethe, 
 Prolegomena zur Geschichte des Theaters im AUerthiim (1896), pp. 48 ff.; Mazoli, 
 Essai sur la Composition dcs Comedies d' Aristophane (1904); Capps, "The Intro- 
 duction of Comedy into the City Dionysia," University of Chicago Decennial 
 Publications, VI (1904), 266 ff., and in Colimibia University lectures on Greek 
 Literature (1912), pp. 124 ff.; Navarre, "Les origines et la structure technique de 
 la com6die ancienne," Revue des Etudes anciennes, XIII (191 1), 245 ff.; White, 
 The Verse of Greek Comedy (191 2); Cornford, The Origin of Attic Comedy (1914), 
 reviewed by Flickinger in Classical Weekly, VIII (1915), 221 ff.; and Ridgeway, 
 The Dramas and Dramatic Dances of Non-European Races with an Appetidix on the 
 Origin of Greek Comedy (19 15), reviewed by FUckinger, Classical Weekly, XI 
 (1918), 109 f. 
 
 ' I am indebted to Professor Capps for this translation; the word is generally 
 taken to mean "masks" here. 
 
 i Cf. Aristotle's Poetics l^()a^,^-b().
 
 36 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 But whatever uncertainties may obscure the various stages 
 in the history of comedy, fortunately there is little doubt as to 
 the source from which it came. Aristotle states that "comedy 
 also sprang from improvisations, originating with the leaders of 
 the phallic ceremonies," which still survive as institutions in 
 many of our cities."" Mr. Cornford {op. ciL, pp. syfif.) finds 
 the best illustration of these ceremonies in the well-known 
 passage in Aristophanes' Acharnians, vss. 237 ff. Dicaeopolis 
 has just concluded a private peace with Sparta and prepares to 
 celebrate a festival of Dionysus on his country estate. He 
 marshals his meager procession as if it contained a multitude, 
 his daughter carries upon her head a sacred basket with the 
 implements of sacrifice, two slaves hold aloft a pole which is 
 surmounted by the phallic symbol, and Dicaeopolis himself 
 brings up the rear with a large pot in his arms, while the wife 
 and mother constitutes the watching throng. At vss. 246 ff. a 
 sacrifice is offered to the accompaniment of an invocation to 
 Dionysus. Finally Dicaeopolis re-forms his procession with 
 various coarse remarks and starts up a phalHc ballad of an 
 obscene nature in honor of Phales, "mate of Dionysus and fellow- 
 reveller" {^vyKOijxe). The proceedings thus consist of a proces- 
 sion to the place of sacrifice, the sacrifice itself, and the phallic 
 song or comus (kco/xos). The last is important for our present 
 purpose because comedy (/ccojuwSta) etymologically means " comus- 
 song" (/cw/xos-f-wSiy). KCofxos denotes both a revel and the band of 
 masqueraders participating therein. The comus was the particu- 
 lar type of phallic ceremony from which comedy developed. 
 
 The comus in Aristophanes' Acharnians is sung by Dicaeopolis 
 alone for the reason that the lack of suitable helpers compelled 
 him to act as both priest and congregation. But Cornford is 
 right {op. cit., pp. 38 ff.) in recognizing this song as belonging to a 
 widely spread type in which the improvisations of one or more 
 leaders {e^apxoprei) are interrupted at more or less regular 
 intervals by a recurrent chantey on the part of the chorus. In 
 
 ' The phallus was a representation of the membrum virile, and such ceremonies 
 were primarily intended to secure fertility. 
 ' Cf. Aristotle's Poetics 144909-13.
 
 INTRODUCTION 37 
 
 this instance the song is not continued to a length natural to the 
 type, but is cut short by the real chorus of the play which has 
 been hiding but now bursts forth and stops proceedings with a 
 shower of stones. From the standpoint of contents Cornford 
 detects two elements in the comus : an invocation to the god to 
 attend his worshipers in their rites, and an improvisational 
 "iambic" element of obscene ribaldry, which often took the form 
 of satire directed against individuals by name {ibid., p, 41). 
 These two elements exactly correspond to the double object of 
 all phallic ceremonies, which were both a "positive agent of 
 fertilization" and a "negative charm against evil spirits." The 
 former result was obtained by the invocation of friendly powers; 
 as to the latter, 
 
 the simplest of all methods of expelling such malign influences of any kind 
 is to abuse them with the most violent language. No distinction is drawn 
 between this and the custom of abusing, and even beating, the persons or 
 things which are to be rid of them, as a carpet is beaten for no fault of its 
 
 own, but to get the dust out of it There can be no doubt that the 
 
 element of invective and personal satire which distinguishes the Old Comedy 
 is directly descended from the magical abuse of the phallic procession, just 
 as its obscenity is due to the sexual magic; and it is likely that this ritual 
 justification was well known to an audience f amiUar with the phallic cere- 
 mony itself [ibid., pp. 49 f.]. 
 
 It is possible to cite many examples of ritualistic scurrihty 
 among the Greeks, such as that indulged in by the Eleusinian 
 procession as it approached " the bridge," that of the riders upon 
 the carts on the Day of Pots (xoes) at the Anthesteria, that at the 
 Stenia festival, and many others. Sometimes these involved 
 physical violence as well as mere abuse, and this element (or the 
 threat of it) frequently recurs in Old Comedy. Perhaps the 
 most interesting parallel is afforded by Herodotus v. 82 f. In 
 the sixth century B.C., in order to avert a famine, the Epidaurians 
 set up wooden statues of Damia and Auxesia, goddesses of 
 fertiHty.^ Somewhat later, the Aeginetans stole these images 
 
 ' The second is, of course, the personification of Increase; the first is not so 
 obvious. Some connect it with Demeter; it has also been proposed to interpret it 
 as the Cretan form of f^yM^a, "damage." The one would therefore represent the 
 productive and the other the destructive powers; cf. Macau's edition ad loc. 
 This would accord very neatly with Cornford's positive and negative charms. 
 
 47808
 
 38 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 and set them up in their own country; "they used to appease 
 them with sacrifices and female satiric choruses, appointing ten 
 men to furnish the choruses for each goddess; the choruses 
 abused no man but only the women of the country; the 
 Epidaurians also had the same rites." 
 
 The comus frequently took the form of a company marching \ 
 from house to house to the music of a flute-player and rendering 
 a program of singing and dancing at every dwelling. From what 
 has already been said it will be understood that the improvisa- 
 tions of the comus leaders would rarely redound to the credit of 
 the householders. These scurrilous attacks upon their neighbors 
 combined with other motives to induce the comus revelers to 
 assume disguises, which varied from year to year. Now, 
 according to the Parian Chronicle, comic choruses were the inven- 
 tion of Susarion and were fijst performed at Icaria. This 
 doubtless means that Susarion transformed the ceremonies of an 
 old ritual procession in the country into a "stationary" perform- 
 ance in an orchestra. The same authority informs us that this 
 innovation was introduced into Athens between 580 and 560 b.c.^ 
 This notice must refer to the Lenaean festival, since the program 
 of the City Dionysia did not receive this addition until about 
 501 B.C. At both festivals the performances still continued for 
 some time to be called comuses (kco)uoi) , comedy being a name of 
 later date, and were produced by " volunteers." Five Attic vase 
 paintings of ca. 540-490 B.C. depict comus revelers as cocks, birds, 
 or as riding upon horses, dolphins, or ostriches (Figs. 12-16).^ 
 The state did not assume official supervision of comedy until 
 486 B.C. at the City Dionysia and about 442 B.C. at the Lenaea.^ 
 
 ' Cf. Jacoby, Das Marmor Parium, p. 13: a^' oO iv 'A^[i}j']ais KcofMix[i.8wv 
 Xo]p[bs iT]40r)^ [a-T7j](Tdv[TU)P irpd^rwv'lKapiicav, evpSvTos "Zovaapldivos, kolI q-ffKov ir^drf 
 TrpwTov la-xdSwlv] dpffixols] Kalotvov /j.e[r]p7}Tifis, [err] .... The exact date is not 
 determinable but is limited to a period of twenty years by other entries just before 
 and after this one. 
 
 ' Figs. 12 and 13 are taken, by permission of the Council of the Hellenic Society, 
 from the Journal of Hellenic Studies, II (1881), PI. XIV, Ai and Bi; Fig. 14 from 
 Poppelreuter, op. cii., p. 8; and Figs. 15 and 16 from Robinson, Boston Museum 
 Catalogue of Greek, Etruscan, and Roman Vases (1893), P- 136- 
 
 ^ Cf. Capps, University of Chicago Decennial Publications, VI, 286, and American 
 Journal of Philology, XXVIII (1907), 186 f.
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 39 
 
 Before we can proceed further, it will be necessary to con- 
 sider the nature of ancient comedy. In the time of Hadrian 
 the history of literary comedy at Athens was divided into three 
 periods, called Old, Middle, and New Comedy, respectively. 
 Old Comedy came to a close shortly after the beginning of the 
 fourth century B.C. Pohtics and scurrilous attacks upon 
 contemporaneous personages made up the bulk of its subject- 
 matter. Living men, such as Pericles, Socrates, Euripides, and 
 
 Fig. 14. — A Comus upon a Berlin Amphora 
 See p. 38, n. 2 
 
 Cleon were represented by actors on the stage and were lam- 
 pooned with the utmost virulence. Sometimes their identity 
 was thinly disguised under a transparent pseudonym, but 
 oftentimes the very name of the victim was retained along with 
 the other marks of identification. Middle Comedy was a 
 transitional period of about half a century's duration between 
 Old and New. It renounced the political and personal themes 
 of its forerunner and was largely given up to literary criticism, 
 parodies, and mythological travesty. New Comedy, in turn, 
 abandoned such subjects for the most part and devoted itself 
 to motives drawn from everyday life. Except for the occasional
 
 40 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 presence of the chorus, it does not greatly differ in structure, 
 theme, or technique from the comedy of manners today, 
 mutatis mutandis. 
 
 For the study of origins, however, we must turn back to the 
 earhest type, Old Comedy, which is entirely unlike any present- 
 day genre. We are fortunate in possessing eleven complete 
 plays of Aristophanes, the chief poet of Old Comedy; and 
 though no two of them are exactly alike in the details of their 
 
 Fig. is 
 
 Fig. i6 
 V 
 
 Figs. 15-16. — Comus Scenes upon a Boston Skjrphos 
 
 See p. 38, n. 2 
 
 structure, yet the general outline is clear. The leading features 
 are as follows ■} 
 
 1 . The prologue (irpoXoyos) spoken by the actors and serving 
 both as an exposition and to set the action of the play in motion. 
 
 2. The parodus (TrdpoSos), or entrance song of the chorus. 
 Originally this division must have been exclusively choral, but 
 by Aristophanes' time it has been developed so as -sometimes to 
 include lines spoken by actors. 
 
 ' The divisions of tragedy are discussed on pp. 192 f., below. Five of the terms 
 applied to the divisions of comedy appear also in tragedy, viz., prologue, parodus, 
 episode, stasimum, and exodus; several, if not all, of the five seem to have originated 
 in tragedy.
 
 INTRODUCTION 41 
 
 3. The agon {aycjv, "contest"), a "dramatized debate" or 
 verbal duel between two actors, each supported by a semi- 
 chorus; see p. 43, below. 
 
 4. The parahasis (from irapa^alvo), to "come forward"), a 
 "choral agon" in which the chorus, the actors being off stage, 
 march forward to address the audience. When complete, the 
 parabasis consists of seven parts which fall into two groups: 
 the first group contains three single parts, which were probably 
 rendered by the first coryphaeus. Dropping all dramatic 
 illusion and all connection with the preceding events of the play, 
 he sets forth the poet's views concerning his own merits and 
 claims upon the public, ridicules the rival playwrights, announces 
 his opinions on civic questions, etc. The second group contains 
 four parts in the form of an epirrhematic syzygy, i.e., a song 
 {(hbrj) and epirrheme {iTripprjixa, "speech") by one semi-chorus 
 and its leader, respectively, -are counterbalanced by an antode 
 {avT(jobri) and an antepirrheme (di'TeiripprjiJia) by the other semi- 
 chorus and its leader; here the chorus usually sing in character 
 once more, the knights praising their "horses," the birds their 
 manner of hfe as compared with men's, etc.^ 
 
 5. There follows a series of episodes (e7rei(r65ta), histrionic 
 scenes separated (6) by brief choral odes (aTaa-Lfxa or xopt/cd). 
 The episodes portray the consequences of the victory won in the 
 agon (3). For example, in the Acharnians the subject of con- 
 troversy is whether DicaeopoHs shall be punished for the alleged 
 treason of having made a pilivate peace with Sparta, and part 
 (5) represents him, in a succession of burlesque scenes, as enjoying 
 the fruits of that peace. 
 
 7. The exodus (e^oSos), or recessional of the chorus. Prop- 
 erly speaking, this should contain only the final, retiring song 
 
 ' From this second half of the parabasis comedy developed another epir- 
 rhematic di\'ision to which Zielinski also gave the name of syzygy. This was not 
 exclusively choral, however, stood at no definite point in the play, and differed in 
 still other respects from the epirrhematic syzygy of the parabasis. Three syzygies 
 appear in Aristophanes' Acharnians and Birds, none in his Lysistrata, Women in 
 Council, and Pliitus. Cf. White, op. cit., § 677. Since it is apparent that such 
 syzygies are not primary in origin, they have been ignored in the foregoing 
 discussion.
 
 42 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 of the chorus (the l^bhov), but the term came to include the 
 histrionic passage just preceding it, also. 
 
 This is a very incomplete sketch of a highly complicated 
 subject, but it will suflSce for present purposes. 
 
 Now in the scurrility of the primitive (non-literary) comus 
 Professor Navarre {op. cit., p. 248) would recognize three stages. 
 ^^ In the first, the ribaldry of the comus received no answer from 
 the crowd of spectators. This is doubtless to be explained by 
 supposing that all who were competent to participate were 
 already members of the comus; the spectators consisted only 
 of women and children, who fiequently had no more right of 
 speech in rehgious ritual than in law. So DicaeopoUs' wife is 
 present but speechless in Aristophanes' Acharnians (see p. 36, 
 J., above). In the second stage, the bystanders retorted to the 
 assaults of the comus revelers. This probably indicates that 
 membership in the comus has been restricted in some way, 
 leaving others free to retaliate in kind from the crowd. The 
 third stage was reached when this new element was formally 
 /- recognized and brought within the comus itseh, which was thus 
 divided into antagonistic halves for mutual recrimination. 
 Thus may be explained a peculiar feature of Old Comedy. Its 
 chorus was a double chorus of twenty-four members, always 
 divided into two semi-choruses, which often were hostile during 
 a large portion of the play. Sometimes this division between 
 them was shown by their masks or costumes, as when the chorus 
 represented men and women, horses and their riders, etc. But 
 sometimes the division was one of sentiment — one semi-chorus, 
 for example, favoring peace and the other being opposed to it. 
 The result of this division of the early comus revelers into semi- 
 choruses is a parallelism of structure in certain parts of comedy, 
 ode being matched by antode, and the epirrheme of one chorus 
 leader by the antepirrheme of the other. It is clear that all the 
 divisions which show this duahty of arrangement descend from 
 the comus.'' 
 
 One of these divisions is the parabasis (4). Though one of 
 the most ancient features of Old Comedy, it was also one of the 
 
 ' Or at least reflect its influence; cf. the syzygies mentioned in the last note.
 
 INTRODUCTION 43 
 
 first to decay: complete in Aristophanes' earlier plays, it is 
 always mutilated in some way during his middle period and in 
 his last two comedies has disappeared entirely. We have seen 
 (p. 37, above) that the essential characteristics of the phallic 
 ceremonies were the induction of the good influences by invoca- 
 tion and the aversion of the bad by vituperation. Now in the 
 epirrhematic syzygy which constituted the second half of the 
 parabasis, even as late as Aristophanes, when it naturally must 
 have changed considerably in function, "the ode and antode 
 normally contain an invocation, either of a muse or of gods, who 
 are invited to be present at the dance, the divine personages 
 being always selected with reference to the character of the 
 chorus. The epirrheme and antepirrheme often contain the 
 other element of satire or some milder form of advice and 
 exhortation."^ 
 
 Another division of Old Comedy which was carefully balanced 
 and which ought, therefore, to be a derivative of the comus is the 
 agon (3). Normally this division was epirrhematic in structure 
 and fell into nine parts, as follows: First comes the ode sung by 
 one half-chorus, then the cataceleusmus {KaTaKe\ev<Tn6s, "encour- 
 agement") in which their leader exhorts one of the actor con- 
 testants, thirdly this actor delivers his speech (epirrheme), 
 concluding with a peroration (rvlyos, "choke," so called because 
 it was all to be delivered in one breath and left the performer 
 speechless). Next came the antode, anticataceleusmus, ant- 
 epirrheme, and antipnigus rendered by the other half-chorus, 
 their leader, and the second actor, respectively. Finally, in 
 the sphragis {a^ypayis, "seal") is given the unanimous verdict of 
 the whole chorus. At fijst glance it would seem that too 
 important a role is here played by actors for the agon ever to 
 have been derived from the comus, which was purely choral. 
 The comus consisted of an undifferentiated band of revelers 
 and its choreutae assumed no distinct parts. In fact, there is no 
 reason to suppose that their performances involved dramatic 
 impersonation (/xt/xTjo-ts) at all. They might be dressed to 
 represent birds or animals, but with few or no exceptions they 
 
 ^ Cf. Comford, op. cit., p. 46.
 
 44 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 sang and spoke and conducted themselves as would be appro- 
 priate for men engaged in such a rite to do. As we have already 
 seen (p. 38, above) their costumes were for disguise. 
 
 Nevertheless, the situation is not so impossible as it seems. 
 The fact that the masks and costumes of the choreutae were all 
 alike, or at most of two types to correspond to the two semi- 
 choruses, did not prevent each member of the chorus from 
 speaking, or singing, apart from the rest. This was sometimes 
 done even in fully developed tragedy, where the line of distinction 
 between chorus and actors was usually a sharp one. Thus, in 
 Aeschylus' Agamemnon, vss. 1348 ff., each of the choreutae in 
 turn pronounces two iambic lines. In particular, the roles of 
 the two chorus leaders must have been developed in the comus 
 and early comedy so as partly to compensate for the lack of 
 actors. Note that Aristotle does not state merely that comedy 
 sprang from phallic ceremonies but from the leaders (e^apxovres) 
 of the phallic ceremonies. An illustration of what may result 
 from participation in the action on the part of individual cho- 
 reutae is afforded by Aristophanes' Women in Council. I believe 
 that the "First Woman" and the ''Second Woman" who appear 
 in our editions as uttering brief remarks at the beginning of this 
 play are not actors but the leaders of the two half-choruses.^ 
 In function they are not at first distinguishable from Praxagora. 
 Indeed, it does not transpire until later that Praxagora herself 
 is an actor, not the coryphaeus. The fact is that in all his 
 plays Aristophanes seems to have assigned his two chorus leaders 
 more extensive participation both in lyrics and in recitative than 
 has been generally recognized (cf. White, op. ciL, passim). In 
 my opinion this sort of thing was even more common at an 
 earlier period, and in this way it was possible for the comus 
 to have a quasi-agon from which the later histrionic agon could 
 easily develop. Of course, the chorus leaders could not appear 
 in individualized roles, as the actors did in the Aristophanic 
 a,gon, for characters had not yet been introduced into comedy; 
 
 ' Cf . White, "An Unrecognized Actor in Greek Comedy," Harvard Studies, 
 XVII (1906), 124 f.
 
 INTRODUCTION 45 
 
 but they could engage in a contest of perfectly general, deperson- 
 alized billingsgate or, at a later period, speak as the poet's 
 mouthpiece for the pros or cons of any question. Thus, they 
 would not represent individual men, with an individual's name 
 and characterization, but any men. Their sentiments would 
 have been equally appropriate in the mouths of any of the other 
 choreutae. 
 
 The agon and parabasis must necessarily have been flanked 
 on either side by a processional and a recessional. In their 
 simplest form, these need not have involved more than silent 
 marching in and out again; but probably the flute accompani- 
 ment was always present, and singing would soon be added. 
 Even when words and singing were employed, there was no 
 necessity of these being newly composed for each occasion or 
 even original at all. It will be remembered that in Aristophanes' 
 earliest and latest plays he did not write special exodia but bor- 
 rowed from earher poets any popular airs that suited his purpose.' 
 Moreover, Aristophanes' exodi lack the balanced structure which 
 is characteristic of all divisions which descend directly from 
 the primitive comus; but in this instance that fact has no sig- 
 nificance, for the reason that by the end of a comedy (or comus) 
 the two half-choruses would always be reconciled and go 
 marching off together. Nevertheless, the intrusion of the his- 
 trionic element, the comparative rarity of the earliest dramatic 
 meter (the trochaic tetrameter), and the absence of a canonical 
 structure make it plain that the recessional of the primitive 
 comus never developed into a regular division — in other words, 
 that the exodus of Aristophanic comedy was the product of a 
 later period. 
 
 On the other hand, the Aristophanic parodus resembles the 
 agon and the parabasis in making a large use of the tetrameter 
 {pp. ciL, p. 185). Moreover, it contains distinct survivals of 
 epirrhematic composition (ibid., pp. 159 and 366), so that, in 
 spite of its histrionic elements and the absence of a canonical 
 form, the parodus ought to be considered as having been 
 
 * Cf. Zielinski, op. cit., p. 190.
 
 46 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 exclusively choral by origin and as having developed out of the 
 simple processional before the comus became histrionic. 
 
 The theatrical comus, then, must have been something as 
 follows: first a choral parodus, next a semi-histrionic agon, then 
 a parabasis, and finally a recessional which ultimately developed 
 into an exodus. A late notice,^ if correctly emended, informs us 
 that at one time comedies contained no more than three hundred 
 verses. I am of the opinion that this is the type of performance 
 alluded to and that comedy did not, in essence, greatly depart 
 therefrom until actors, as distinct from the chorus, were added. 
 
 How did this addition come to be made ? It is impossible 
 that the comic playwrights, with the actors of tragedy ever 
 before them, should never have thought of taking this step. 
 Nevertheless, the main impulse seems to have come from another 
 direction. We have seen (p. 36, above) that in the non- theatrical 
 comus the phallus was borne on a pole in the ritual procession 
 with which the comus was originally associated ; it was not worn. 
 Neither is it worn by the comus choreutae as represented on 
 Attic vase paintings (Figs. 12-16). But in Old Comedy it is 
 clear that at least some of the characters wore the phallic emblem. 
 That this was in fact the general practice appears from the 
 language in which Aristophanes boasts of the modesty of his 
 Clouds: 
 
 And observe how pure her morals: who, to notice first her dress, 
 Enters not with filthy symbols on her modest garments hung, 
 Jeering bald-heads, dancing ballets, for the laughter of the young.* 
 
 And Dr. Korte {op. cit., pp. 66 £f.) has collected ten passages in 
 other plays of our poet which indicate that Aristophanes was 
 not always so puritanical as he claims to be here. These 
 conclusions are confirmed also by numerous representations, of 
 
 ' Published by Usener in Rheinisches Museum f. Philologie, XXVIII (1873), 418. 
 
 * Cf. Aristophanes' Clouds, vss. 537 ff. (Rogers' translation). The original of 
 "filthy symbols" is (tkItivov Kadei/jiivov. It has therefore been suggested, especially 
 since there seems to be an allusion to a phallus even in the Clouds (vs. 734), that 
 Aristophanes is not to be understood as discontinuing the use of the phallus alto- 
 gether in this play, but merely as abandoning the <pa\\bs Kadei/xivos in favor of the 
 less indecent (paWbs dvadede/xivos. Both types are seen in Fig. 17.
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 47 
 
 Attic workmanship, which are plausibly thought to depict actors 
 in Old and Middle Comedy (Figs. 17-19)/ By the time of 
 New Comedy, on the contrary, the phallus was apparently no 
 longer worn, and the characters were garbed in the dress of 
 everyday life. Now the Dorian mime or farce was widely 
 cultivated in the Peloponnesus and Magna Graecia. The 
 performers were individualized actors, not welded into a chorus. 
 They wore the phallus, had their bodies stuffed out grotesquely 
 both in front and behind by means of copious padding, and in 
 general bear a very close resemblance to the comic actors at 
 
 Fig. 17. — Comic Actors and Flute- Players upon an Attic Vase in Petrograd 
 
 See p. 47, n. i 
 
 Athens (Figs, 20 and 21).^ Their performances were loosely 
 connected, burlesque scenes, abounding in stock characters and 
 enUvened by obscenity and ribald jests. Most authorities agree 
 that the burlesque episodes (5) of Old Comedy are derived from 
 this source. According to Aristotle,^ the Megarians claimed that 
 comedy originated with them about 600 B.C. when a democracy 
 with its resultant freedom of speech was estabhshed among them. 
 It was even asserted that Susarion, the reputed founder of Attic 
 comedy (see p. 38, above), came from Megara, but this claim is 
 
 ' Figs. 17-19 are taken from Korte, op. cit., p. 69 (Fig. i), p. 78 (Fig. 3), and 
 p. 80 (Fig. 5), respectively. In Fig. 17 there are only three actors; the end figures 
 are flute-players. Korte believes this scene to be taken from Middle Comedy. In 
 Fig. 19 the phallus has been omitted. 
 
 ^ Figs. 20 and 21 are taken from Korte, op. cit., p. 91 (Fig. 8), and Baumeister's 
 Denkmdler, Fig. 2099, respectively. The phallus has been omitted from some of 
 the actors. 
 
 3 Cf. Aristotle's Poetics I448a3i f.
 
 48 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 apparently unwarranted." The fact remains, however, that 
 Aristophanes and his confreres often speak of stupid, vulgar 
 scenes or jokes as being "stolen from Megara."^ Though these 
 words have been otherwise explained,^ I believe that Megara, 
 which is the nearest Dorian city to Attica, had something to do 
 with the introduction of the histrionic element into Attic comedy. 
 Of course, this does not mean that Megara is to be regarded as 
 
 Fig. 1 8. — An Attic Terra Cotta in 
 Berlin Representing a Comic Actor, 
 See p. 47 , n. i 
 
 Fig. 19. — An Attic Terra 
 Cotta in Munich Representing a 
 Comic Actor. 
 
 See p. 47, n. i 
 
 the inventor of Athenian comedy, for the comus was indigenous 
 and received its development on Attic soil and the type of per- 
 formance which came into being after the introduction of actors 
 was quite unlike anything in Megara or any other part of the 
 Dorian world. 
 
 • Those who admit this claim rest imder the necessity of placing the intro- 
 duction of actors at this early date. This would mean that comedy had actors 
 before tragedy did! On the other hand, the reader needs to be warned that I 
 place the introduction of comic actors later than most writers. 
 
 ' Cf. Aristophanes' Wasps, vs. 57, and Kock, Comicorum Graecorum Frag- 
 menta, I, 9 f., fr. 2 (Ecphantides), and I, 323, fr. 244 (Eupolis). 
 
 3 Von Wilamowitz' skepticism with regard to Megarian comedy, however, 
 has not gained many converts; cf. "Die megarische Komodie," Hermes, IX 
 (1875), 319 ff.
 
 INTRODUCTION 49 
 
 With actors, impersonation became possible for the first time 
 in Attic comedy. Besides the nondescript chorus and chorus 
 leaders, there were now performers who could assume the identity 
 of real or imaginary characters and carry a role or, by a change of 
 mask, several roles through the play. The importance of all 
 this is too obvious to require amplification. It marked the 
 birth of dramatic comedy at Athens. Through the introduction 
 of actors, comedy became amenable to several other influences. 
 Tragedy could at once make itself felt. A histrionic prologue 
 could now be added, the comic prologue corresponding in length 
 
 90 M 
 
 Fig. 20. — Actors of Dorian Comedy upon a Corinthian Crater in Paris 
 See p. 47, n. 2 
 
 and function to the tragic prologue and first episode combined.' 
 A real agon of actors now became possible, whatever use may have 
 been made previously of the chorus leaders for this purpose. 
 Furthermore, the new Megarian burlesque episodes (5) would 
 naturally be separated by stasima (6) in imitation of tragedy. 
 It would also be possible to insert an episode^ between the parodus 
 and the agon, as is done in Aristophanes' Plutus, vss. 322-486; 
 or between the agon and the parabasis, as in Aristophanes' 
 
 ' Cf. Navarre, op. cit., p. 268. The same fact is brought out more graphically 
 in the lithographic table at the close of Zieliiiski's book. 
 
 ' The episodes referred to in this sentence are more properly termed "mediat- 
 ing scenes" in contradistinction to the true episodes (5) which follow the paraba- 
 sis (cf. White, The Verse of Greek Comedy, §§ 679 f.)- Twenty-six connecting 
 links of this sort occur in Aristophanes, twenty of them just before an agon or 
 parabasis. Syzygies are also employed to extend the length of the play, especially 
 in the first half (cf. p. 41, n. i, above).
 
 so 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 Knights, vss. 461-97; or to compose a second parabasis and 
 to insert an additional episode between them, as in Aristophanes' 
 Peace, vss. 1039-1126, etc. In addition to all this, tragedy 
 would exert a constant influence in elevating and standardizing 
 all parts of comedy alike. 
 
 But the restricted and even disconnected method of elabora- 
 tion employed in earHer comedy, with its invective, lampoons, 
 
 Fig. 21. — Actors of Dorian Comedy upon a Corinthian Vase 
 
 See p. 47, n. 2 
 
 and obscene jests, would not suffice to fill so ample a framework. 
 Therefore, it became necessary to broaden and deepen the 
 plots; in fact, now for the first time in Attic comedy was it 
 possible to have a plot worthy of the name. All this is implied 
 in the words which have already been quoted from Aristotle 
 (p. 35, above) : "Developing a regular plot was a SiciUan inven- 
 tion, but of the Athenians the first to abandon the 'iambic' or 
 lampooning form and to begin to fashion comprehensive themes 
 and plots {KadoXov ■Koie'tv \byovs koI fxWovs) was Crates." The 
 reference in the first half of this sentence is to Epicharmus, whose
 
 INTRODUCTION 51 
 
 name actually appears in Aristotle's text at this point but with- 
 out grammatical construction. Epicharmus was a resident of 
 Megara Hyblaea in Sicily, whence he migrated to Syracuse about 
 485 B.C. Like the Megarians on the Greek mainland, also the 
 Sicilian Megarians laid claim to the honor of having invented 
 comedy.^ They based their pretensions on the fact that Epichar- 
 mus flourished and won his reputation before 486 B.C., which was 
 the terminus post quem for the beginning of the official careers 
 of Magnes and Chionides, who were the first poets of state- 
 supported (as opposed to volunteer) comedy, at the City 
 Dionysia in Athens. Epicharmus raised the Dorian mime in 
 Sicily to literary importance, and seems to have improved upon 
 the detached or but loosely connected scenes of his predecessors 
 by stringing them together upon the thread of a common plot- 
 interest. His plays had no chorus and did not touch upon his 
 contemporaries or poHtics. Now Aristotle's words concerning 
 Crates must certainly be understood as indicating a resemblance 
 between him and Epicharmus in at least some of these particu- 
 lars. The expression which I have translated "to fashion 
 comprehensive themes and plots" has been rendered "generalized 
 his themes and plots" by Butcher, "to frame stories of a general 
 and non-personal nature, in other words. Fables or Plots" by 
 Bywater, and "composed plots or fables of a 'universal' 
 character", by Cornford {op. cit., p. 217). Whatever other 
 meaning may inhere in this phrase, I think that it must be taken 
 to mean, first of all, that Crates, like Epicharmus, made all or, at 
 least, most of the parts of his plays subservient to one connecting 
 idea or plot; and it seems to me that the previous clause which 
 refers to his abandonment of the "iambic" or lampooning form 
 looks in the same direction. In my opinion, the invective of his 
 predecessors had been episodic and unrelated to its context by 
 any sequence of thought, often being expressed in passages like 
 
 the following : 
 
 Shall we all a merry joke 
 At Archedemus poke, 
 Who has not cut his guildsmen yet, though seven years old; 
 
 ^ Cf. Aristotle's Poetics i448a32-4.
 
 52 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 Yet up among the dead 
 
 He is demagogue and head, 
 And contrives the topmost place of the rascaldom to hold ? 
 
 And CUsthenes, they say, 
 
 Is among the tombs all day. 
 Bewailing for his lover with a lamentable whine. 
 
 And Callias, I'm told. 
 
 Has become a sailor bold, 
 And casts a lion's hide o'er his members feminine.^ 
 
 Here this abuse is dragged in apropos of nothing, and the three 
 citizens who are assailed within a score of lines have no connection 
 with the main theme of the play. It was this sort of thing, I 
 venture to beHeve, that Crates discontinued; and Aristotle's 
 language does not require us to conclude that he relinquished 
 scurrihty altogether. It is usually thought, however, that Crates 
 made no assaults of any kind upon his contemporaries but 
 * ' generalized ' ' his plots by treating imaginary, ' ' ideal ' ' characters 
 in his plays. In other words, he is supposed to have anticipated 
 to some extent the manner and material of New Comedy. I 
 have no desire to combat this view, which simply advances a 
 step beyond my own. The main fact, that of Crates' having 
 invented plot sequence in Attic comedy, can hardly be made a 
 matter of dispute. 
 
 We are indebted to a late authority, Tzetzes, for the following 
 statements : 
 
 But also Old Comedy differs from itself [i.e., falls into two types], for 
 those who first estabUshed the institution of comedy in Attica (and they 
 were Susarion and his successors) used to bring on the characters (Trpoo-wTra) 
 in an undifferentiated crowd (draKTajs), and laughter alone was the object 
 sought. But Cratinus [a contemporary of Crates], succeeding them, put a 
 stop to the confusion {ara^iav) and set the characters (TrpocrwTra) in comedy 
 for the first time at three; and he added profit to the pleasure of comedy, 
 lampooning the evildoers and chastising them with comedy as with a pubhc 
 scourge. But even he stUl shared in the archaic qualities and, slightly, in 
 the confusion (dra^tas).^ 
 
 ' Cf. Aristophanes' Frogs, vss. 416-30, Rogers' translation. The original is 
 more vulgar than would be tolerable in an English translation. 
 ^ Cf. Kaibel, Comicorum Graecorum Fragmenta, p. 18.
 
 INTRODUCTION 53 
 
 Whatever the ultimate source of this notice, it contains much of 
 value. In the first place, a distinction is correctly drawn 
 between primitive comedy (Susarion to Cratinus; ca. 565 to ca. 
 450 B.C.) and Old Comedy (450 to ca. 385 B.C.). The earlier 
 period is marked by aTa^ia, which I refer to the practice of having 
 characterless choreutae take part singly as if they were actors 
 (see p. 44, above). Though still occasionally guilty of this 
 practice, as even Aristophanes sometimes was, Cratinus regu- 
 larly withdrew his choreutae from participation in the dialogue 
 and reduced the performers to three. These three, however, 
 were now real actors, as distinct from the chorus and chorus 
 leaders, and played individualized roles which demanded 
 dramatic impersonation. The number three was doubtless due 
 to contemporaneous tragedy in which the number of actors 
 had recently been increased by Sophocles from two to three 
 (see p. 167, below). ^ 
 
 A second difference between primitive comedy and Old 
 Comedy is found in the use which was made of invective. If 
 this development had not taken place. Old Comedy would not 
 occupy the unique place which it now holds in the dramatic 
 literature of the world. As we have just seen, the lampooning 
 of primitive comedy was probably episodic and detached from 
 the context, like that in Aristophanes' Frogs, vss. 416-30; a 
 
 ^ Some would interpret this passage as meaning that Cratinus was the first to 
 observe the aesthetic law that not more than three persons should participate in the 
 same conversation (cf. Rees, The So-called Rule of Three Actors in the Classical 
 Greek Drama, p. 9, n. i). When the only speakers were the individual choreutae, 
 who were twenty-four in number, such a restriction must have been unheard of. 
 On the other hand, if it should prove true that Megarian actors were brought in 
 before the time of Cratinus, then we must suppose that their number was at first 
 in excess of three and was reduced to three by him. Of course, the use of but 
 three actors in the tragedy and comedy of this period would automatically result 
 in not more than three persons participating in a conversation and so in the observ- 
 ance of the aesthetic law. This statement, however, is subject to the qualification 
 that the chorus leaders continued to have speaking parts both in comedy (see p. 44, 
 above), and in tragedy (cf. pp. 164 f. and 169, below), and that a fourth actor was 
 occasionally employed (cf. pp. 171 and 182, below). In any case I am of the 
 opinion that conscious formulation of the aesthetic law was not made until 
 Hellenistic times (see pp. 187 f., below).
 
 54 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 whole play was not devoted to one person, and no citizen was 
 impersonated by an actor. Its object was merely to cause a 
 laugh and it rarely served any useful purpose, certainly none for 
 the pubHc interests of the state. It was a natural outgrowth 
 of the magical abuse of the old phallic processions. Now Old 
 Comedy, on the whole, was just the reverse of this, and Cratinus 
 seems to have been the innovator who, " generaHzing" his plots 
 by giving them a single theme, after the fashion set by Crates, 
 devoted them solely or mainly to pohtical and social questions 
 and dragged his victims in person upon his stage. 
 
 When did these changes tate place ? First let it be noted 
 how they mutually depend one upon another: neither tragedy 
 nor the Sicilian mime could greatly influence early Attic comedy 
 until actors, as distinct from a chorus, were introduced, nor could 
 their influence be long delayed after the actors came. I think 
 that these factors came to fruition not long before 450 B.C. 
 
 a) Reverting to Aristotle's words (quoted on p. 35, above), 
 when are we to suppose that the Athenians began to ''treat 
 comedy seriously" ? The most obvious answer • would be, 
 "486 B.C., when comedy first received official recognition." 
 Chionides and Magnes are the poets of this period, and there is 
 no reason to believe that they improved upon their immediate 
 predecessors of the "volunteer" comedy otherwise than in a 
 more worthy Hterary treatment of their plays. Aristophanes 
 describes Magnes' efforts in the following terms: 
 
 All voices he uttered, all forms he assumed, the Lydian, the fig- 
 piercing Fly, 
 
 The Harp with its strings, the Bird with its wings, the Frog with 
 its yellow-green dye.' 
 
 It is plain that these words refer to plays by Magnes which were 
 called The Lydians, The Gall-Flies, The Harpists, The Birds, and 
 The Frogs. These titles at once remind us of the animal masks 
 which were so common in the comus (Figs. 12-16). Of course, 
 state supervision impHes a certain amount of serious attention. 
 Nevertheless I think that in this passage Aristotle had a later 
 period in mind. 
 
 ' Cf. Aristophanes' Knights, vss. 522 f., Rogers' translation.
 
 INTRODUCTION 55 
 
 It was long ago pointed out that Attic comedies were not 
 published before the time of Cratinus, The fact of publication 
 shows that comedy was at last being treated with true seriousness 
 and helps to explain the ignorance, in later times, with respect to 
 certain points. Though the state records gave the names of 
 comic victors from 486 B.C. on, they did not include information 
 upon matters of mere technique. For knowledge of this sort 
 Aristotle (the ultimate source of Tzetzes) and all other ancient 
 investigators were almost entirely dependent upon what they 
 could glean from the editions of Cratinus, Crates, and their 
 successors. Now the earliest texts available revealed the use of 
 characters, prologues, and three actors as well as of the parodus, 
 agon, parabasis, and exodus. Why did Aristotle specifically 
 name the first group and not the second ? 
 
 In my opinion, Professor Capps^ has provided the correct 
 answer. He maintains that Aristotle distinguished two kinds 
 of ignorance concerning the history of comedy. In the first 
 place, there was the Egyptian darkness which covered the period 
 previous to 486 B.C. For example, when Aristotle declared that 
 comedy "already had certain forms" (crxi7juard tlvo) at this time, 
 he could not have specified what these forms were; he was 
 merely surmising that the fact of state supervision presupposed 
 more or less definiteness of form. In the second place, there was 
 the period of semi-darkness immediately after 486 B.C. Tradi- 
 tion must have placed in this period the introduction of charac- 
 ters, prologues, and three actors, and so Aristotle singled them 
 out for mention. But tradition had not handed down also the 
 names of the innovators, and in the absence of texts it was 
 impossible to probe the matter further. Needless to state, the 
 situation regarding the other innovations, whether of this period 
 or earHer, was much worse. 
 
 b) Though Thespis is said to have invented the prologue in 
 tragedy, this statement is justly discredited (see p. 298, below) ; 
 and no tragedy is actually known to have had one before 
 
 * Cf. "The Introduction of Comedy into the City Dionysia," University of 
 Chicago Decennial Publications, VI, 266 ff.
 
 56 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 Phrynichus' Phoenician Women (476 B.C.). Aeschylus' Suppli- 
 ants (about 490 B.C.) and Persians (472 B.C.) have none. It is 
 most unlikely that comedy should have anticipated tragedy in 
 this feature. 
 
 c) Capps^ has plausibly suggested that knowledge of Epi- 
 charmus' achievements in comedy was brought to Athens by 
 Aeschylus, who is known to have been in Sicily ca. 476 B.C., 
 shortly after, 47 2 B.C., and for about two years before his death 
 there in 456 B.C. 
 
 d) The third actor was introduced into tragedy between 
 about 468 and 458 B.C., and it is more probable that the use of 
 three actors in comedy was borrowed from tragedy than vice 
 versa. 
 
 e) Cratinus won his first victory at the City Dionysia of 
 452 B.C. and (/) Crates at that of 450 B.C. Doubtless the activity 
 of both men began somewhat earlier. 
 
 g) It is incredible that the state should have postponed 
 official control of comedy at the Lenaean festival until about 
 442 B.C., if the developments which we have been sketching had 
 taken place long before. 
 
 h) The earliest comedian to refer to Megarian comedy is 
 Ecphantides, whose first victory was won between 457 and 453 
 B.C. Whenever Aristophanes ''names any writers of 'vulgar 
 comedy' who used the stale antics which he repudiates, these 
 writers are his own predecessors and contemporaries of the 
 Attic stage. "^ This implies that the borrowing was a fairly 
 recent occurrence. 
 
 i) Finally, Megara was actually under the sway of Athens 
 during 460/59-446/45 B.C. The opportunity for the exchange of 
 ideas between Megara and Athens would naturally be most 
 favorable at that time. 
 
 In view of the preceding considerations, I am of the opinion 
 that actors were introduced into Athenian comedy shortly 
 before 450 B.C. 
 
 ' Cf . Columbia University Lectures on Greek Literature, p. 130. 
 * Cf. Cornford, op. cit., pp. 179 and 193, n. i; see p. 48, above.
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 57 
 
 The Greek Theater} — Since, as we have s *ien, both tragedy and 
 comedy among the Greeks were choral by origin, the center of 
 thei r theaters was a circular "4 gIl£lnS^l3£g!!- Called a n orchestra^ . 
 {dpxvf^Tpa), i n the midd le of which stood Sijhymele (dvnekri) or_ 
 "altar" (Figs. 22 f.).^ When an actor was added to the tragic 
 
 Fig. 22. — Ground Plan of a Greek Theater with Names of Its Parts 
 See p. 57, n. 3 
 
 choreutae, it became necessary to provide .a-dr£ssing=roDm-whefe-^ 
 he.mighfe-^angg;;;^ajnask and-Gosttaae, — Thi s te mporaiy-struc- 
 tn rg'was'called a,. aK7]P'n C'hut": our English word "scene"), and 
 
 * It is unfortunate that there is at present no satisfactory book dealing with 
 the Greek theater on the structural side. English readers are practically restricted 
 to Haigh's The Attic Theatre, revised by Pickard-Cambridge in 1907, which devotes 
 nearly one hundred pages to a summary and criticism of the different views. But 
 this work has already been off the press for a decade and on the main issue, viz., 
 
 (Footnote i continued on p. 58) 
 
 * For a slight variability in the application of the word orchestra see p. 83 and 
 nn. I and 2, below; see also p. 72, n. 3. 
 
 3 Fig. 2 2 is specially drawn and does not exactly reproduce any single theatrical 
 structure. Fig. 23 is taken, simplified and slightly altered, from Dorpfeld-Reisch, 
 Das griecMsche Theater, PI. VIII (o).
 
 58 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 at first stood outside the spectators' range of vision — Afterward 
 it^as'Brought immediately behind the orche stral cir cle and then 
 Served a lso as a background in front of which the dramatic action 
 was"peHofmed7~ Jts face was pierced b y doors , usually thrpp hnt 
 soBietimes only one, which were conventionally thought of as 
 leading into asThahy different houses. The scene- building often 
 had two projecting side wings called parascenia (ira pa, " beside" + 
 (TKTjprf). The front of the scene-building and of the parascenia 
 
 PW05CE.NIUM^ FWROOU^ 
 
 ORCMtSTRA 
 
 Fig. 23. — Cross-Section of a Greek Theater with Names of Its Parts 
 See p. 57, n. 3 
 
 came to be decoratedjwith ji row of columns, the proscenium 
 (irpoj'^^et^e^^a-Krjvq) . \ The top ^niiis proscenium was used 
 by -actors when they had occasion to speak from the housetop 
 or'lvrere thought of "as standing upon some elevation. In the 
 
 _agJr>^wlTPtjipr thfi GreeT^ theat^rnf thftj-lassiral period was provided with a raised 
 stage for actors, makes too many concessions to the traditional view. For German 
 readers, on the other hand, the situation is not a great deal better. Dorpfeld's 
 book has been before the public for over twenty years, and in the interim his 
 opinions have necessarily changed on many points. He has promised a thoroughly 
 revised second edition, which is demanded also by the excavation of additional 
 theaters and by the pubHcation of numerous special articles. But it is hardly 
 likely that this promise will ever be redeemed. The only comfort is to be derived 
 from the fact that, as works of major importance have appeared, Dorpfeld has 
 promptly published critiques which have often been of such length as to furnish 
 convenient restatements of his views. These more recent works in German, 
 however, have attempted merely to force a modification of certain details in Dorp- 
 feld's position; they are in no wise calculated to serve as independent presentations 
 of the whole matter or as a means of orientation for the uninitiated. 
 
 From the extensive bibhographical material which is available it is manifestly 
 impossible to cite more than a fraction here. The outstanding books are Dorpfeld- 
 Reisch, Das griechische Theater (1896), defended against reviewers and partially 
 modified in "Das griechische Theater Vitruvs," Athenische Mittheilungen, XXII
 
 INTRODUCTION 59 
 
 cour se of^time_it_ was _emplQy-e(i also for divinities, especially in 
 epiphanies at the close of tragedies (see p. 292, below). Since 
 this spot was never invaded by the singing or dancing of the 
 chorus and was the only place reserved for actors exclusively, it 
 came to be called the logium (Koyetop, fro m Xeyeiv t o " speak ")^or_ 
 *^speakmg place. "^ BeTiind the logium was the secon d story of 
 the scene-building,' known as the episcenium {iTKXKrjvLov ; evrt, 
 * ' upon^-f- (TK-qurj) ; its front wall was p ierced by one or mor e large 
 doorways. PasFeacFTparascenium a "side entrance" or parodus 
 'tjapoQof, Trapa, " beside" +656s, "passage") led into the orches- 
 tra. These entrances were used by the audience before and after 
 the play, and during it by the actors (who could use also the 
 
 (1897), 439 ff., and XXIII (1898), 326 ff.; Puchstein, Die griechische Bilhne 
 (1901), answered by Dorpfeld in Athenische Mittheilungen, XXVIII (1903), 
 3835.; and Fiechter, Die baugeschichtliche Entwicklung des antiken Theaters 
 (1914), summarized by its author and criticized by Dorpfeld in Jahrhuch d. arch. 
 Institnts, Anzciger, XXX (1915), 93 ff. and 96 ff., respectively. Other important 
 publications are von WUamowitz-MoUendorff , " Die Biihne des Aischylos," Hermes, 
 XXI (1886), 597 ff.; Todt, "Noch Einmal die Biihne des Aeschylos," Philologus, 
 XL VIII (1889), 505 ff.; Capps, "Vitruvius and the Greek Stage," University of 
 Chicago Studies in Classical Philology, I (1893), 3 ff.; Bethe, Prolegomena zur 
 Geschichte des Theaters im Alterthtim (1896), and "Die hellenistischen Biihnen und 
 ihre Decorationen," Jahrbuch d. arch. Institiits, XV (1900), 59 ff. (answered by 
 Dorpfeld in "Die vermeintliche Biihne des hellenistischen Theaters," ibid., XVI 
 [1901], 22 ff.); Petersen, "Nachlese in Athen: Das Theater des Dionysos," ibid., 
 XXIII (1908), 33 ff.; and Versakis, "Das Skenengebaude d. Dionysos-Theaters," 
 ibid., XXIV (1909), 194 ff., answered by Dorpfeld, ibid., pp. 224 ff. Still other 
 titles will be cited as they are needed in the discussion. See also p. 2 2 1 , below. For 
 reports on the excavations of various theaters the reader should consult the biblio- 
 graphical references given by Dorpfeld-Reisch and Fiechter in their footnotes. 
 
 ' Dorpfeld claims that the name was given because the speakers stood there in 
 addressing the public assemblies and that the same place was known as the theolo- 
 gium when used by divinities; cf. Athenische Mittheilungen, XXIII (1898), 348 f., 
 and XXVIII (1903), 395, and Jahrbuch d. arch. Instituts, Anzeiger, XXX (1915), 
 98. Reisch thought that logium was the name of some kind of special structure 
 in the orchestra; cf. Das griechische Theater, p. 302. Inscriptions prove the pres- 
 ence of a logium in the Delian theater in 279 B.C. {els rb XoyeTov ttjs o-ktivtjs) and 
 180 B.C. (rrjv KaTa(TKevr]v tQv irLvaKwv tQiv iirl rh \oye2ov); cf. Homolle, Bulletin de 
 Correspondance Hellenique, XVIII (1894), 162 and 165, and Robinson, American 
 Journal of Philology, XXV (1904), 191; but they do not make its nature clear. 
 Personally I am of the opinion that at Athens speakers always stood in the orchestra 
 to address the public assemblies until the building of the Nero stage about 67 a.d.;
 
 6o THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DFAMA 
 
 doors in the scene-building) and the chorus. The parodi wer^ 
 often framed by beautiful gateways (Figs. 5 1 f .) . The remain der 
 of the or chestral ci r cle was su r roun ded by th^auditorium,~the 
 **lheater" proper.'^ Chor us and actors stood on t he sa me lev el 
 in the orchestra or in the space between it and the scene-building. 
 There_w as no stage jnthe GreeSTtheaters until about^ebegin- 
 ning of th e Christian era. 
 
 """BuT'when the Greek theaters came under Roman influence 
 and were provided with a stage, these technical terms naturally 
 acquired a somewhat different significance (Figs. 24 and 62-64).^ 
 The proscenium was still the columned wall in front of the scene- 
 building, but it now stood upon the stage (at the rear), and the 
 stage itself was the logium. Whenever theophanies required a 
 still higher level, this was furnished by the top of the proscenium,^ 
 which was called the theologium (deoXoyelov; deos, "god"-f- 
 'Koyelov) or "speaking place of divinities."'' The space beneath 
 
 cf. Flickinger, Plutarch as a Source of Information on the Greek Theater (1904), 
 p. s$, and see p. 102, below. My present view, therefore, is that logium suffered 
 a change of meaning, being first applied to the top of the proscenium and being 
 used for elevated action of various kinds, as explained in the text, and afterward 
 being applied to the stage as the place of actors and public speakers. In either 
 case, it referred to the same general part of the theater, viz., an elevated platform 
 in front of the scene-building. But the original application of this term is one of 
 the most perplexing problems in connection with scenic antiquities, and it is 
 earnestly to be hoped that additional evidence may be brought to light which wiU 
 unmistakably reveal its earlier history. The word does not appear in literature 
 until Roman times (thrice in Plutarch), but then indisputably means "stage." 
 See next paragraph in text. 
 
 '"Theater" {diarpov) is derived from OeoiffOai, to "see," and was originally 
 applied to the space occupied by the spectators. The wider meaning was a natural 
 but later development. It is customary to employ the Latin terra cavea ("an 
 excavated place") to express the narrower meaning. 
 
 ' Fig. 24 is taken from Wilberg's drawing, simplified by the omission of numer- 
 ous details, in Forschimgen in Ephesos, II, Fig. 96. I am responsible for the addi- 
 tion of the names. 
 
 3 That this platform (or rather its equivalent in purely Roman theaters) 
 might be conventionally regarded as the roof of the scene-building appears from 
 Seneca Medea, vs. 973 (Medea speaking): "excelsa nostrae tecta conscendam 
 domus," and vs. 995 (Jason speaking) : "en ipsa tecti parte praecipiti imminet." 
 
 * The word occurs only in Pollux, Onomasticon, IV, § 127.
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 61 
 
 the stage, or its front wall alone, was known as the hyposcenium 
 {v7ro<TKr]vLov', VTTO, " beneath" +crK77i'i7).^ There were now two 
 sets of parodi, leading upon the stage and into the orchestra 
 respectively. These two paragraphs are meant for purposes of 
 orientation and are written from the standpoint of one who 
 believes with Dorpfeld that in Greek theaters of the classical 
 period actors and chorus normally moved upon the same level.^ 
 
 Fig. 24. — Cross-Section of the Graeco-Roman Theater at Ephesus with Names 
 
 of Its Parts. 
 
 See p. 60, n. 2 
 
 A Greek town could hardly be so small or so remote as not 
 to have its own theater and dramatic festival (Figs. 25 and 70 f.).^ 
 r Qie Greek thea ters were regularly built upon a hillside and often 
 commanded_ aJi_o.utlo<3k,oyer a scene~of great naturanbeauty' 
 aiid_pict«fesqtteness (Figs. 26-28).'' S o fa r as such structures 
 
 ' Dorpfeld applies the term to the first story of the purely Greek (stageless) 
 theater (see p. 100, below). 
 
 ' For a discussion of the technical terms from the traditional standpoint, cf. 
 A. Miiller, " Untersuchungen zu den Buhnenalterthiimern," Philologus, Supple- 
 mentband, VII (1899), 3 ff. Many of the terms, notably o-ktji'tJ, have numerous 
 secondary meanings; cf. Flickinger, Plutarch as a Source of Information on the 
 Greek Theater, pp. 23 ff., and Scherling, De Vocis "SiKtjvri, Quantum ad Theatrum 
 Graecum Pertinet, Significatiotie et Usu (1906). Th3miele is sometimes extended in 
 application so as to denote the whole orchestra; hence 6vfie\iK6s was sometimes 
 applied to purely orchestral performers (or their performances) in contradistinction 
 to those who came into more immediate relationship with the scene-buUdlng and 
 who were in consequence known as o-ktjvlkoI (see pp. 96 f., below). 
 
 3 Fig. 25 is taken from a photograph by Professor D. M. Robinson. 
 
 ■* Figs. 26 f . are taken from photographs by Dr. A. S. Cooley; Fig. 28 from one 
 by Professor D. M. Robinson.
 
 62 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 have come down to us, the oldest is the theater of Dionysus 
 Eleuthereus at Athens, and this is also the one of greatest interest 
 to us, for the reason that in it were produced practically all the 
 masterpieces of the greatest Greek dramatists (Figs, i and 
 31-41).^ It seems strange that this building should not have 
 remained continuously known to men from ancient times until 
 
 Fig. 29. — Plan of the Acropolis at Athens 
 See p. 62, n. 2 
 
 the present hour, but in fact its very location passed into oblivion 
 for centuries. During mediaeval times and until well into the 
 modern era it was thought that the theater or odeum of Herodes 
 Atticus, a Roman structure of the second century a.d. and 
 situated at the opposite end of the Acropolis, represented the 
 Dionysiac theater of the classical period (Fig. 29).^ The correct 
 site was first pointed out by R. Chandler in 1765, and is clearly 
 indicated by a bronze coin of imperial times which shows the 
 relation subsisting between the theater of Dionysus and the 
 
 ' Fig. I is taken from a photograph furnished by Professor D. M. Robinson. 
 * Fig. 29 is specially drawn and is based upon several different drawings.
 
 Fig. 25. — Theater at Oeniadae in Acarnania 
 See p. 61, n. 3 
 
 Fig. 26. — Theater and Temple of Apollo at Delphi 
 
 See p. 61, n. 4
 
 
 i'Lu. 27. — Theater at Alegalopolis in Arcadia 
 See p. 61, n. 4 
 
 Fig. 28. — Theater at Pergamum in Asia Minor 
 See p. 61, n. 4
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 63 
 
 Parthenon (Figs. 30 f.).^ Excavations were conducted desul- 
 torily from time to time, beginning in 184 1, but were not com- 
 pleted until the work under Dorpfeld's direction in 1886, 1889, 
 and 1895. 
 
 The oldest structure in the precinct of Dionysus Eleuthereus 
 is the earlier temple (Fig. 32).^ This was built in the sixth 
 century B.C., possibly in 534 B.C., 
 when Pisistratus estabhshed the 
 tragic contest. Here was housed 
 the cult image of Dionysus which 
 had been brought from Eleutherae. 
 
 Somewhat later are the remains 
 of the early orchestra. According 
 to late notices,^ the original place 
 of holding theatrical performances 
 in Athens was an orchestra in the 
 old market place, the location of 
 which has not yet been determined. 
 At that period the audience sat 
 upon "wooden bleachers" (upta), 
 which are said"* to have collapsed on the occasion of a contest 
 between Aeschylus, Pratinas, and Choerilus in the seventieth 
 
 ^Fig. 30 is taken from Wieseler's Theater gehaude und Denkmaler d. Biihnen- 
 wesens bei den Griechern und Romern, PI. I, Fig. i, and is magnified two diame- 
 ters as compared with the original coin. See also the medallion on the outside 
 cover, which is reproduced from the British Museum Catalogue of Greek Coins, 
 Attica, Megaris, Aegina, PI. XIX, Fig. 8. Fig. 31 is from a photograph by 
 Dr. A. S. Cooley. 
 
 ' Fig. 32 is redrawn, with slight alterations, from Dorpfeld-Reisch, Das 
 griechische Theater, PI. II, The age of the different remains is indicated in colors 
 in ibid., PI. I. 
 
 * Cf. Photius, S.V. tKpia- TO. iv rrj dyopg., dcp'' Siv iffeQvTo roiis AwvvcnaKoi>t 
 iywva^ irplv ■fj KaTacrKevaffdTJvai rb iv Atovtjcrov diaTpov; likewise s.v. Xijvaiov and 
 
 ^ Cf. Suidas, s.v. Uparivas .... dvTrjyuvl^eTo 8^ Alcrxv^V Te Kal Xoip/Xy, iirl 
 T'Qs i^dofji,7]KO(rTrjs OXv/XTriddos, .... iiri.8eiKvviJi.4vov 8i toijtov ffwi^Tj rd tKpia, i(p^ 
 &v eaT-qKeirav ol dearal, irecreiv. Kal iK toi/tou diarpov ii>Ko8op,'q6r] '' A.dy)valoL%. It 
 is also possible that the orchestra in the precinct of Dionysus is somewhat earlier 
 than is maintained in the text, possibly going back to the vicinity of 534 B.C., 
 and that it was the earlier and less substantial seats near it which collapsed co. 
 499 B.C. 
 
 Fig. 30. — Athenian Coin in 
 the British Museum Showing the 
 Parthenon and Outline of the 
 Theater of Dionysus Eleuthereus. 
 
 See p. 63, n. 1
 
 64 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 PREONCT 
 OF 
 
 DIONYSUS ELEUTHEREUS 
 
 LATER TEMPLE 
 
 \ 
 
 Fig. 32. — Precinct of Dionysus Eleuthereus in Athens, Showing Dorpfeld's 
 Restoration of the Early Orchestra and of the Lycurgus Theater. 
 
 See p. 63, n. 2
 
 Fig. 31. — Parthenon and Theater of Dionysus; in 
 Foreground Altar in Precinct of Dionysus Fleuthereus. 
 
 See p. 63. n. i 
 
 Fig. 33.— East Fragment of \\'all Belonging to the 
 Early Orchestra in Athens. 
 
 See p. 65, n. i 
 
 Fig. 34. — West Fragment of Wall Belonging to ihe 
 Early Orchestra in Athens.
 
 INTRODUCTION 6$ 
 
 Olympiad (about 499 B.C.). In consequence, a new theater was 
 constructed in the precinct of Dionysus, where the seats, though 
 still of wood, could be supported in part by the south slope of the 
 Acropolis. When the stone theater on this site was first brought 
 to Hght, it was erroneously supposed that this was the structure 
 which had been erected as a result of the accident just mentioned. 
 As a matter of fact, practically all that remains of the first 
 theater are ^ certain fragments of the orchestra (Figs. 33 f.).^ 
 These are sufficient to indicate that this orchestra was about 
 eighty-eight feet in diameter and stood some fifty feet farther 
 south than the later orchestra (Figs. 32a and 81).^ As it receded 
 
 Fig. 32fl. — Cross-Section of Precinct of Dionysus Eleuthereus in Athens, 
 Showing Later and Early Temples and Early Terrace and Later Orchestra. 
 
 See p. 65, n. 2 
 
 from the Acropolis it was banked up to a maximum of about six 
 and a half feet, leaving a decHvity immediately behind it. The 
 extant plays of this period show that for about thirty years no 
 background of any kind stood in this declivity (seep. 226, below). 
 Theatrical properties, such as a tomb, might be temporarily 
 built at the center or to one side of the orchestra. If dressing- 
 rooms were then provided for the actors and chorus they must 
 have stood some distance away. In the absence of a back scene, 
 the performers could enter only at the sides. These same 
 entrances were used also by the spectators in assembling. The 
 
 ' Figs. S3 i- ^re taken from photographs by Dr. A. S. Cooley. The position 
 of these stones is marked by B and C respectively in Fig. 32. Another arc of the 
 same orchestral circle is indicated by a cutting in the native rock near the east 
 parodus, A in Fig. 32. 
 
 »Fig. 32a is taken from F. Noack, S/ct/j/tj TpayiKi^, eine Studie tiber die sceni' 
 schen Anlagen auf der Orchestra des Aischylos und der anderen Tragiker (1915), p. 3.
 
 66 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 seats, being of wood until the fourth century, have left no trace; 
 but there can, of course, be no doubt of their position on the 
 slope. Well up the side an ancient road cut the auditorium into 
 an upper and lower section^ and permitted ingress and egress 
 for the audience at two additional points. The Athenian 
 theater was somewhat unusual in having these upper entrances. 
 About 465 B.C., as the plays indicate,^ a wooden scene- 
 building was set up behind the orchestra, where the decHvity 
 had been.3 xhe front of this was probably pierced by three 
 doors, which might be conventionally thought of as leading to 
 as many different buildings, and thus the number of entrances 
 available for the actors' use was more than doubled. This 
 seemingly simple alteration produced profound changes in 
 dramatic technique (see pp. 228-3 1, below). The scene-building 
 of this period must be thought of as quite unpretentious: its 
 material was wood; it probably consisted of but a single story, 
 with parascenia but no columned proscenium (Fig. 74; see 
 pp. 235 and 339 fif., below). Its construction was flimsy enough 
 for it to be capable of being easily rebuilt or remodeled to meet 
 the scenic requirements of each drama, for of course it was not 
 until long after the introduction of a scenic background that the 
 plays were uniformly laid before a palace or temple. According 
 to Aristotle, Sophocles was the inventor of scene-painting, and 
 this is also said to have been invented during the lifetime of 
 Aeschylus.4 If these notices are correct, we must suppose that 
 scene-painting was invented in the decade ending in 458 B.C. and 
 so under theatrical conditions such as have just been described. 
 This would mean that at first the scenery must have been 
 attached directly to the scene-building itself and not inserted 
 between the intercolumniations of the proscenium columns. 
 
 ' Possibly the seats did not go back of this road at this period; they certainly 
 did in the fourth century (Fig. 32 and J in Fig. 81). 
 
 ^ Cf. Dignan, The. Idle Actor in Aeschylus (1905), p. 13, n. 14. 
 
 3 Preferably, in the south margin of the old orchestra-terrace and behind it; 
 see Fig. 82 and pp. 339 ff., below. 
 
 iCf. Aristotle's Poetics 1449018, and Vitruvius, De Architectura, VII, pra©- 
 fatio, § II.
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 67 
 
 The next building in the precinct seems to have been the 
 later temple, slightly south of the earUer one (Fig. 32). Its 
 substructure was of breccia (conglomerate) , and its erection must 
 be assigned to about the last quarter of the fifth century b.c.^ 
 An image of Dionysus by Alcamenes found its home here. 
 
 Of the same material are the foundations of the parascenia 
 and of the front and back walls of the scene-building (Fig. 35),^ 
 and perhaps they are to be assigned to the same period as the 
 temple which has just been mentioned.^ The superstructure 
 
 £ 
 
 Fig. 35. — Outline of the Oldest Walls of the Scene-Building in Athens 
 
 See p. 67, n. 2 
 
 was still of wood, since the wide variation of scenic setting called 
 for a background which could readily be adapted to changing 
 needs. It is likely that the ten square holes in the rear founda- 
 tion wall (Fig. 38) were intended to receive the supporting beams 
 of such an adjustable structure."" Probably the scene-building 
 now rose to a second story, a supposition which is confirmed by the 
 
 ' Dorpfeld, following Reisch, is willing to accept a date as early as 421-415 B.C., 
 cf. Das griechische Theater, pp. 21 f. 
 
 ' Fig. 35 is taken from Fiechter, op. ciL, Fig. 14. 
 
 3 So Furtwangler, "Zum Dionysostheater in Athen," Sitzungsberickie d. bayer. 
 Akadentie der Wissensckaflen zu Munchen, philosophisch-philologische u. historische 
 Classe, 1901, p. 411; Puchstein, op. cit., pp. 137 ff.; E. A. Gardner, Ancient Athens, 
 pp. 435 f. and 448; and Fiechter, op. cit., p. 11. Dorpfeld, on the contrary, would 
 attribute these foundations to the Lycurgus theater in the next century; cf. Das 
 griechische Theater, pp. 59 ff. 
 
 4 Cf. Dorpfeld, "Das griechische Theater zu Pergamon," Athenische Mit- 
 theilungen, XXXII (1907), 231; but differently in Das griechische Theater, pp. 61 ff.
 
 68 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 use of the crane or ixrjxo-vi] ("machine") in the extant plays of this 
 period (see pp. 289 and 292 f., below). At about the same time 
 a proscenium (also of wood) was erected before the parascenia 
 and the intermediate front of the scene-building (see pp. 235 f., 
 below), and painted panels of scenery could be fastened between 
 its intercolumniations. In my opinion, we must suppose that 
 such a proscenium stood far enough removed from the front of 
 the scene-building' so that, when there was no occasion to fill the 
 intercolumniations with panels, a porch or portico was auto- 
 matically produced (its floor probably raised a step or two above 
 the orchestra level), in which semi-interior scenes might be 
 enacted (see pp. 238 f., below). It has even been maintained 
 that a projecting vestibule was sometimes built out from the 
 center of the proscenium in order to provide additional space of a 
 semi-private sort (see pp. 236 f., below and Fig. 73). Of course, 
 no foundations for such a structure are found either at this period 
 or subsequently, for the reason that permanent foundations for 
 something which was only occasionally employed would have 
 been unsightly and in the way for the greater part of the time. 
 No fragments belonging to the orchestra of this period have been 
 discovered (see next paragraph and p. 73). Moreover, the seat- 
 ing arrangements belong to the Lycurgus theater of the next 
 century. Fortunately, however, there can be no doubt as to the 
 relative position of these parts: it is apparent that the whole 
 theater has been pushed about thirty-five feet farther north 
 (Fig. 81), and the causes of this alteration are not hard to guess. 
 In the first place, room was thus secured for the scene-building 
 without occupying the space immediately in front of the earlier 
 temple of Dionysus. In the second place, the slope of the 
 AcropoUs could now be employed more extensively as a support 
 for the seats of the spectators, see Fig. 81. There is now good 
 reason for believing that this shght change in site was made at 
 this period, see p. 342, below. 
 
 Slight as may seem the theater remains which have been 
 discussed up to this point, it must be noted before proceeding 
 
 ' As in the Hellenistic theater (Fig. 38).
 
 ^ ■ -^& \ 
 
 Cofyri^kt, Underwood &■ Under-cood 
 
 Fig. 36 
 
 THEATER OF DIONYSUS IN ATHENS, LOOKING NORTH; CHOREGIC 
 MONUMENT OF THR.\SYLLUS IN THE BACKGROUND
 
 I
 
 Cofyrii;ht, UiidLywocid &■ Undcriuood 
 
 Fig. 37 
 
 THEATER OF DIONYSUS IN ATHENS, LOOKING NORTH AND WEST
 
 INTRODUCTION 69 
 
 that they entirely exhaust the field. There is not a stone outside 
 of Athens which can be assigned to any Greek theater before 
 400 B.c.^ Yet all the plays of Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Eurip- 
 ides, and all the extant comedies of Aristophanes, except two, 
 were performed before this date ! In the latter half of the fourth 
 century Lycurgus, who was finance minister of Athens between 
 338 and 326 B.C., "completed"^ the theater which is reproduced 
 so clearly in Dorpf eld's plan (Fig. 32) that it is unnecessary to 
 describe it at length. Most of the stone remains now upon the 
 site belong to this structure. So far as the auditorium is pre- 
 served, its arrangements and furnishings are almost entirely 
 those of Lycurgus' time. Most of the inclosing walls, the stone 
 thrones in the front row for the use of dignitaries, and the stone 
 seats for the rest of the audience all belong to this period 
 (Fig. 36). The only part of the present orchestra which goes 
 back to the fourth century is the gutter just inside the balustrade 
 (Fig. 37) , but this is sufl&cient to show that the Lycurgus orchestra 
 was sixty-four feet and four inches in diameter or exactly sixty 
 Greek feet. This figure is significant as showing that the orches- 
 tra was the starting-point in the measurements and not inciden- 
 tally derived from some other part of the theater. Behind the 
 orchestra and upon the old foundations was now erected a 
 scene-building of stone, one hundred and fifty-two feet in breadth 
 and twenty-one feet deep at its shallowest part. About its 
 parascenia stood a row of stone columns, from which it can be 
 estimated that the first story was about thirteen feet in height. 
 But the stone connecting columns which Dorpf eld restored before 
 the centralpart of the scene-building (Fig. 32) have been assailed 
 on every hand and have now been relinquished by their sponsor.^ 
 This part of the proscenium was still of wood, for though the 
 scenic requirements by this time were fairly standardized for 
 each genre, the conventional setting for tragedy was quite 
 
 ^ Except possibly at Thoricus (see p. 103, below). 
 
 * Cf. pseudo-Plutarch X Oratorum Vitae, 841D and 852C. 
 
 3 Cf. Dorpfeld, "Das Theater von Ephesos," Jahrbuch d. arch. Instituts, 
 Anzeiger, XXVIII (1913), 38.
 
 7© 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 different from that for comedy or satyric drama. Furthermore, 
 the Greeks seem to have been slow to lose the notion that a 
 wooden background was necessary in order to secure the best 
 acoustic results/ This wooden proscenium probably did not 
 stand so close to the scene-building as the drawing would indi- 
 cate, but formed a portico as in the Hellenistic theater (Fig. 38). 
 At the same time, or possibly at the close of the fifth century, 
 a colonnade was built just behind the scene-building as a place 
 of refuge from heat and sudden showers. There are two con- 
 siderations which make the Lycurgus theater highly important 
 to us: in the first place, here were produced the plays of the 
 Greek New Comedy which furnished the originals of Plautus' 
 and Terence's Latin plays and which has partially been restored 
 to us by the recent discovery of large fragments of Menander's 
 comedies; and in the second place this fourth-century structure 
 probably reproduced in stone the main outlines of the earlier 
 theater in which the later tragedies of Sophocles and Euripides 
 and all the plays of Aristophanes were performed (pp. 339 ff.). 
 This supposition is strengthened by the fact that the extant fifth- 
 century dramas could readily be " staged " in the Lycurgus theater. 
 "** Further alterations were made in the Athenian theater 
 during the first or second century B.C. (Fig, 38).^ So far as can 
 now be established, this Hellenistic theater differed from its 
 immediate predecessor only in two particulars. The front of the 
 parascenia was moved back about six and a quarter feet,^ the 
 parodi being thereby enlarged to the same extent. What 
 advantage was gained by this alteration has not yet been dis- 
 covered. The other change consisted in the erection, at last, 
 of a stone proscenium, about thirteen feet in height, between 
 the parascenia and about six and a half feet in front of the 
 central fore wall of the scene-building. At Epidaurus, Oropus, 
 Delos, etc., the supports cf the proscenium were only half- 
 
 Dorpfeld, "Das Theater von Ephesos," Tahrbuch d. arch. Instituts, Anzeiger, 
 XXVni(i9i3),4of. 
 
 " Fig. 38 is taken from Dorpfeld-Reisch, Das griechische Theater, Fig. 26. 
 3 Cf. ibid., p. 63. This shift has been disputed by many but is defended by 
 Fiechter, op. cit., pp. 9 g.
 
 ^^ITRODUCTION 
 
 71 
 
 columns, and sometimes they had grooves or rims running verti- 
 cally along their sides cr had the rear half of the column cut into 
 an oblong for the purpose of providing a firmer fastening for the 
 painted panels (TrlvaKes) in the intercolumniations (Fig. 72). 
 
 Fig. 38. — Ground Plan of the Hellenistic Theater in Athens According to 
 Dorpfeld. 
 
 See p. 70, n. 2 
 
 But at Athens the proscenium columns were whole and were not 
 equipped with any of these devices. 
 
 We have already passed far beyond the time when master- 
 pieces of Greek drama were receiving their premier performances 
 in the Athenian theater; after the third century the dramatic 
 productions in Attica were no longer of consequence. Yet for 
 the sake of completeness it will be necessary to record briefly 
 two later periods in the history of this structure.
 
 72 THE GREEK THEATER ANf ITS DRAMA 
 
 The result of the earlier of these reniOdelments is commonly 
 known as Nero's theater, for the reason that its fagade originally 
 bore an inscription of dedication to Dionysus and Nero. The 
 motive for the alteration and dedication is doubtless to be found 
 in the Emperor's visit to Greece and "artistic" triumphs there in 
 67 A.D. Under the circumstances it is not surprising that two 
 features of Roman theaters were now for the first time introduced 
 into Athens: a stage was built before the scene-building, and 
 the hitherto full orb of the orchestral circle was thereby infringed 
 upon. At the back of the stage rose a new proscenium, probably 
 no longer in the form of a straight and simple colonnade but an 
 elaborate facade with projecting and receding members, such as 
 was common in the Roman and Graeco-Roman theaters (Figs. 
 40 and 59), The depth of the stage cannot be exactly deter- 
 mined,^ but its front wall is usually thought to have coincided 
 with that of the stage now standing, which belongs to the next 
 period. But we shall presently find reasons for believing that, 
 though the Nero stage was deeper than the Hellenistic pro- 
 scenium, it was shallower than the later (Phaedrus) stage (see 
 pp. 75 and 99, below). Space would thus be left for the parodi 
 still to lead directly into the orchestra. Dorpfeld first estimated 
 the height of the Neronian stage at about four feet nine and a 
 half inches (see next paragraph), but is now inclined to think 
 that it belonged to the high Graeco-Roman type.* In my 
 judgment, however, his earlier position is to be preferred. I 
 consider it probable that stone steps led from the orchestra to 
 the center of the stage, as in the Phaedrus theater (Fig. 40). 
 Just outside the gutter of the Lycurgus theater was erected a 
 marble balustrade (Fig. 39) ,3 which stood about three and a half 
 
 ' Cf. Dorpfeld, Das griechische Theater, p. 89. 
 
 * Cf. ibid., p. 89; Athenische Mittheilungen, XXII (1897), 459; XXIII (1898), 
 330 and 347; and XXVIII (1903), 414. For the Graeco-Roman stage see pp. 80 ff. 
 and iiof., below. 
 
 ' Fig. 39 is from a photograph taken by Dr. Lewis L. Forman and furnished 
 by Dr. A. S. Cooley. Owing to its change of function, in Roman times the orches- 
 tra was sometimes known as the Kovlffrpa ( = the Latin arena) ; owing to its change 
 of shape, it was sometimes called <riyfia from its resemblance to the semicircular 
 form of the Greek letter C .
 
 -^-— Jgi^" 
 
 .m 
 
 .> 
 
 luG. 3g.— Nero Balustrade and Pavement, and i'liaedrus Stage of the Theater 
 
 in Athens. 
 
 See p. 72, n. 3 
 
 Fig. 41. — Frieze of the Phaedrus Stage in Athens 
 See p. 74, n- 2
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 73 
 
 feet above the orchestra level and protected the spectators from 
 accident when gladiatorial combats (another Roman institution) 
 or the like were being exhibited in the orchestra. In order to 
 compensate for the curtailment of the orchestra by the stage, 
 the gutter, which had been left open except opposite the vertical 
 
 Fig. 40. — Plan of the Romanized Theater in Athens According to Dorpfeld 
 
 See p. 74, n. i 
 
 aisles of the auditorium, was covered over, except for occasional 
 rosette-shaped openings. Up to this time the orchestra seems 
 to have had no covering but hard-pressed earth, but it was now 
 paved with marble slabs. In the middle of the pavement is a 
 rhomboid design (Fig. 40) , and in its central block is a depression 
 about twenty inches in diameter, by means of which an altar of 
 Dionysus (the thymele) was doubtless held in place.
 
 74 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 The final alterations in the Athenian theater (Fig. 40)' were 
 J made in the third or fourth century a.d. by Phaedrus, governor of 
 Attica ('Ar^tSos apxos), who dedicated the "platform of the 
 theater" {^rnxa. derjTpov) to Dionysus in an inscription which still 
 stands on the uppermost of the stone steps leading from the 
 orchestra to the stage. The gutter was now filled up with earth 
 and refuse, and the rosette-shaped openings in its covering were 
 carefully closed. Plaster was used as needed, and the balustrade 
 and the front wall of the stage (the hyposcenium) were reinforced 
 and made water-tight by supporting walls. The intention was 
 plainly to enable the orchestra to be flooded for the represen- 
 tation of mimic sea fights. The stage was partially rebuilt 
 and was lowered. The hyposcenium was adorned with a frieze 
 (Figs. 39 and 41),^ the extant portion of which is interrupted at 
 three points by as many niches as recesses, one of which is 
 filled by a kneeling Silenus. It is clear that the frieze had been 
 used before and that its slabs had originally been placed in 
 immediate juxtaposition. Moreover, the heads of the figures 
 have been cut away, so that the frieze, when complete, must have 
 been about half a foot higher than at present. The Phaedrus 
 stage is four feet three and a half inches high; and as Dorpfeld 
 was originally inclined to beheve that this same frieze had at 
 first stood before the Neronian stage, he estimated the height of 
 the latter at about four feet nine and a half inches. In my 
 opinion, this estimate ought to be retained. But though Dorp- 
 feld now considers the Nero stage to have been higher than this, 
 he has not indicated whether he still believes its front wall to 
 have been the original position of the frieze. 
 
 It has been suggested that after the lapse of two centuries or 
 more the Neronian stage was perhaps in need of repair or renewal 
 and that the changes for which Phaedrus was responsible are 
 thus to be explained. However that may be, other influences 
 
 ' Fig. 40 is taken from Dorpfeld-Reisch, Das griechische Theater, Fig. 32. 
 
 = Fig. 41 is from a photograph belonging to Northwestern University; the 
 stone steps at the left and another slab at the right do not appear in this view (see 
 Fig- 39)- For the latest interpretation and drawing of the frieze, cf. Cook, Zeus, I, 
 708 ff., and the pocket at end of his volume.
 
 INTRODUCTION 75 
 
 were plainly at work. I think that at this period the Athenian 
 theater was at last thoroughly Romanized. That is to say, I 
 think that the Nero stage did not project so far into the orchestra 
 (see p. 72, above), but was now enlarged so as to accommodate 
 all the performances, and that at the same time the Roman 
 custom of placing seats in the orchestra was for the first time 
 introduced into Athens. But in order that the orchestra might 
 find occasional continuance of its function as a place of ex- 
 hibition, or possibly because of interest in the sport per se, all _ 
 openings were closed up and the old dancing place was made 
 capable of being flooded. It follows that the parodi no longer 
 debouched into the orchestra but led to steps at either side of 
 the stage, as shown in Fig. 40. The participants in the mimic 
 sea fights and gladiatorial combats and the spectators at other 
 performances could enter the orchestra only by passing over the 
 stage and down the front steps.r Of course, the presence of 
 spectators so close to the performers would permit no type of 
 stage except one of moderate height; evidently even the low 
 Nero stage was a little too high under these conditions. 
 
 The foregoing account of the Athenian theater is founded, in 
 the main, upon Dorpfeld's conclusions, but the reader needs to 
 be warned that not all of his conclusions are acceptable to 
 everyone. Until about half a century ago our information 
 concerning Greek theaters was largely restricted to literary 
 tradition. There was no theater of the earlier Greek types above 
 ground, and even the exact location of the Athenian theater had 
 been, during many centuries, forgotten. The literary tradition 
 was mainly derived from Vitruvius, a Roman architect at the 
 beginning of the Christian era, who devoted two chapters of 
 Book V in his work On Architecture to a description of Greek 
 and Roman theaters. According to him, the front and back 
 walls of the Roman stage were determined by the diameter of 
 the orchestral circle and one side of an inscribed equilateral 
 triangle ; in other words, its depth would be one-half the radius 
 of the orchestra (Fig. 42).^ Its height was not to exceed five 
 
 ' Fig. 42 is taken from Alhenische Mittheilungen, XXII (1897), 452.
 
 76 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 feet/ since all the performers stood on the stage and the unele- 
 vated front half of the orchestral circle was reserved for the seats 
 of senators. In the Greek theater, on the other hand, Vitruvius 
 asserted that the front wall of the stage was marked by one side 
 of an inscribed square, and its back wall, which he calls the 
 
 Fig. 42. — Vitruvius' Theatrum Latinum According to Dorpfeld 
 
 See p. 75, n. i 
 
 scaenaefrons, by the parallel tangent, its depth being thus about 
 three-tenths of the radius (Fig. 43).^ Its height was to range 
 between ten and twelve feet. Vitruvius expressly states that 
 this stage in the Greek theater was called a logium, that the 
 
 ' Vitruvius, of course, speaks of Roman feet, which are equal to 11 .65 English 
 inches. 
 
 * Fig. 43 is taken from Athenische Mittheilungen, XXII (1897), 453. This 
 drawing differs somewhat from that given in Das griechische Theater, Fig. 66, 
 which was prepared while Dorpfeld was still of the opinion that Vitruvius was 
 describing the Hellenistic theater and had misapprehended the function of its 
 proscenium (see p. 81, below). He now includes the proscenium at the back of the 
 stage in the scaenae frons.
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 77 
 
 tragic and comic actors performed in scaena^ and the "other 
 artists" per orchestram, and that for this reason the Greeks drew 
 a distinction between the adjectives "scenic" and "thymehc" as 
 appHed to performances and performers.* The differences 
 between the two types of structure are obvious: (i) the 
 
 Fig. 43. — Vitruvius' Tkeairum Graecorum According to Dorpfeld 
 
 See p. 76, n. 2 
 
 auditorium and orchestra in Vitruvius' Roman theater occupied 
 exactly a semicircumference, in his Greek theater distinctly 
 more than this; (2) the Roman stage was deep and low, the 
 Greek high and comparatively shallow; (3) in the Greek theater 
 both orchestra and stage were employed (separately) by 
 
 ' Whatever scaena may mean in Latin, in scaena in this context is at least 
 equivalent to "on the stage." 
 
 ' Cf. p. 61, n. 2, above and pp. 96 f., below.
 
 78 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 different forms of entertainment; in the Roman theater all per- 
 formers stood on the stage and the semicircular orchestra was 
 occupied by the seats of senators. 
 
 Moreover, Pollux (second century a.d.) states that in the 
 Greek theater "the ffKrjvrj belongs to the actors and the orchestra 
 to the chorus."^ Everyone used to think (and some still do) 
 that aKTjvrf here signified "stage" and that Vitruvius' reference to 
 scaenici and thymelici was to be interpreted in a similar fashion. 
 Accordingly, it was supposed that Greek actors performed 
 (and had always performed) upon a ten- or twelve-foot Vitruvian 
 stage and the dramatic chorus in the orchestra below. Con- 
 firmation was found for this theory in Pollux' further mention of 
 ladders rising from the orchestra to the (TK-qvi}.^ The use of both 
 orchestra and stage is mentioned a few times also in schoha 
 (ancient commentaries) upon the Greek plays. The possibility 
 of other interpretations of these passages will be considered 
 later (see pp. 97 ff., below). For the present this should be said: 
 We are interested in the Greek theater mainly because of Aeschy- 
 lus, Sophocles, Euripides, and Aristophanes, all of whom lived 
 in the fifth century B.C., and Pollux and Vitruvius, who flourished 
 many centuries later, nowhere assert that they are attempting 
 to describe the theater of this earHer period. Nevertheless, this 
 initial assumption used tacitly to be taken for granted, and these 
 Procrustean conditions were arbitrarily imposed upon the extant 
 Greek dramas by all editors and commentators alikef As a 
 matter of fact, such a difference of level between orchestra and 
 stage, chorus and actors, with no convenient connection between 
 the two, presented an insuperable obstacle to the (imaginary) 
 "staging" of the fifth-century plays. Various expedients were 
 proposed to evade the difficulty. One of the most popular was 
 that of G. Hermann, who in 1833 suggested that the Greek 
 orchestra was covered with a wooden platform to within a few 
 
 ' Cf. Pollux Onomasticon iv, § 123: Kal a-KrjvT] fiiv vwokpltG>v Idiov, ^ 5^ 6px'n<^- 
 rpa rov xopov, 
 
 * Cf. ibid., iv, § 127: elaeXdbvrei 5k /card tt]v opx'ficrTpav iwl ttjv ffKrjviiv ava^al- 
 
 VOV<Tl Sli, Kkl/xdKWV.
 
 INTRODUCTION 79 
 
 feet of the stage level and that thus a more intimate connection 
 between the two was estabhshed, and Wieseler (1847) proposed 
 to identify this platform with the thymele. Nonsensical as this 
 suggestion appears to everyone without exception now, it enjoyed 
 a tremendous vogue for some time. In the eighties the news 
 began to seep through to Western Europe and this country that 
 Dorpfeld had evolved a new theory, to the effect that actors and 
 chorus had performed in the orchestra on the same level until 
 Roman times/ Again, Mr. A. E. Haigh (1889) maintained that 
 a low stage was employed uninterruptedly until the fourth 
 century B.C., when a high Vitruvian stage was introduced. 
 Dr. Bethe (1896) contends that at first actors and chorus per- 
 formed in the orchestra but that about 427 B.C. a low stage was 
 introduced, which in the fourth century was raised to the 
 Vitruvian level. On the other hand, Dr. Puchstein (1901), 
 who stated in his Preface that he ignored the Hterary evidence, 
 argued for a Vitruvian stage already in the fifth century. And 
 now Professor Fiechter (1914) has given his adherence to Bethe's 
 hypothesis that a low stage at the end of the fifth century was 
 raised to a high one in the fourth. It will be seen that all 
 authorities are in substantial agreement that the Greek theater 
 had a stage, even a high Vitruvian stage, but they are hopelessly 
 divided with regard to the important detail as to when this stage 
 was introduced — at the very first, at the close of the fifth century, 
 in the time of Lycurgus, in the Hellenistic period, or in the reign 
 of Nero. 
 
 But before taking up the question of the stage in the Greek 
 theater, it will first be necessary to determine Vitruvius' rela- 
 tionship to the matter. The Roman architect's description of 
 the Roman theater does not coincide precisely with any extant 
 Roman theater. Nevertheless, there has never been any doubt 
 as to the general type of structure which he had in mind. It is 
 
 ' Dorpfeld's views were first given general pmblicity in the Appendix to 
 Miiller's Lekrlmch der griechischen Buhnenalterikumer (1886), pp. 415 f., but were 
 not published in full until 1896. They have suffered modification in several 
 material points since then.
 
 8o THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 evident, however, that he is describing no particular, actually 
 existent, theater but is giving directions for an ideal structure. 
 Indeed, he declares: ''Whoever wishes to use these directions 
 will render the perfect qualities of theaters faultless."^ There 
 is, therefore, no reason to expect that his directions for Greek 
 theaters would agree any more closely with any extant Greek 
 theater, and in fact they do not. During the last two decades 
 of the nineteenth century the ancient theaters at Epidaurus, 
 Oropus, Thoricus, Eretria, Sicyon, Megalopolis, Delos, Assus, 
 Pergamum, etc. , were unearthed. The first result of this activity 
 was to show that no two of these structures were entirely alike 
 and that none exactly corresponded to Vitruvius' directions. 
 Furthermore, it has become evident that all ancient theaters 
 are no longer to be classified under the two general Vitruvian 
 types, " Greek" and "Roman," but rather under a larger number 
 of categories according to time, place, and conditions of use. 
 But the question which one of these types Vitruvius had in 
 mind still remains, and unfortunately the answer has not been 
 so clear as to compel everyone's acceptance. In Vitruvius' day 
 many Hellenistic, stageless theaters were still standing, and the 
 modern attempt to identify these with Vitruvius' Greek type 
 and to force them into conformity with his prescriptions has 
 wrought great confusion in the field of scenic antiquities. But 
 Vitruvius nowhere professes to be writing a history of Greek 
 theaters nor had he any intention of presenting antiquarian lore. 
 His book was planned for distinctly practical purposes. Now 
 in his day only two kinds of new theaters were being erected, the 
 Roman and what Dorpfeld has christened the Graeco-Roman.* 
 Dorpfeld supposes the latter type to have originated with the 
 theater which Pompey had built in Rome in 55 B.C. This is 
 said to have been modeled upon the Greek theater at Mitylene 
 
 ' Cf. De Architectura v. 8, 2: "ita his praescriptionibus qui voluerit uti, emen- 
 datas efficiet theatrorum perfectiones." 
 
 * This is now Dorpfeld's name for what he at first called the Asia Minor t3T>e; 
 cf. Athenische Millheilungen, XXVHI (1903), 389 and 414. The latter term was 
 unfortunate as suggesting a geographical restriction which had no basis in fact.
 
 INTRODUCTION 8l 
 
 in the island of Lesbos/ and Dorpfeld supposes that the orchestra 
 of Pompey's theater was kept free of seats, after the Greek 
 fashion, and devoted to thymelic performances, but that the 
 top of the proscenium, despite its height and narrowness, was 
 converted into a stage, to which, according to Roman practice, 
 the comic and tragic actors were now elevated. However this 
 may be, the fact remains that from about this time theaters of 
 this type were so extensively built or created by a remodeling 
 of Hellenistic theaters that they became the only rivals of purely 
 Roman structures. Such theaters are found in the Nero theater 
 at Athens (according to Dorpfeld's present but questionable 
 view), Pompeii, Segesta, Syracuse, Taormina, and extensively 
 in Asia Minor. Early in the nineteenth century Schonborn and 
 Wieseler correctly recognized buildings of this type as represent- 
 ing Vitruvius' Greek theater.^ But later on, when the earlier 
 Greek theaters were revealed by new excavations at Athens and 
 elsewhere, an attempt was made to identify these with Vitruvius' 
 Greek type. Dorpfeld himself fell into this error and in Das 
 griechische Theater maintained that Vitruvius had misunderstood 
 the function of the Hellenistic proscenium, interpreting as a 
 stage what in fact was only a background. But though Dorp- 
 feld thus incurred a large share of blame for confusing the 
 situation, he soon came to recognize his error and frankly 
 recanted.^ Unhappily the pro-stage writers still persist in it. 
 
 It might be supposed that Vitruvius' Greek theater could 
 readily be identified by comparing his directions for the height 
 and depth of the stage with the actual measurements of various 
 Greek theaters. Dorpfeld and Fiechter have both attempted 
 this but without any great success,'' For the sake of convenience 
 
 ■ Cf . Plutarch Life of Pompey, c. xlii. 
 
 * It is significant that Vitruvius seems to have depended upon Asia Minor 
 rather than the Greek mainland for his knowledge of Greek architecture; cf. 
 Noack, "Das Proscenion in der Theaterfrage," Philologus, LVIII (1899), 16 ff. 
 
 * Cf. Athenische Mittheilungen, XXII (1897), 439 ff. 
 
 * Cf. Athenische Mittheilungen, XXII (1897), 443, 449 f., and 454, and Fiechter, 
 op. cit., pp. 59 ff.
 
 82 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 and clearness I have drawn up their figures in the form of tables. 
 Dorpfeld cited six Graeco-Roman structures as afl&rmative 
 arguments and two Hellenistic buildings as negative arguments. 
 Of course, the figures for the Hellenistic theaters refer to the 
 
 TABLE I (Dorpfeld) 
 
 Buildings 
 
 Radius of 
 Orchestra 
 
 Three-tenths of 
 Radius 
 
 Depth of Stage or 
 Proscenium 
 
 Height of Stage or 
 Proscenium 
 
 Graeco-Roman : 
 
 Termessus 
 
 Sagalassus 
 
 Patara 
 
 Myra 
 
 Tralles 
 
 1 1 . OO m. 
 12.75 m. 
 11.85 ™- 
 17.50 m. 
 
 3.30 m. 
 3 . 80 m. 
 3-55 m. 
 5.20 m. 
 
 about 4 .00 m. 
 5 • 70 m. 
 3 • SO m. 
 3Som. 
 
 2.45 m. 
 2.77 m. 
 2.50 m. 
 
 about 3 . 00 m. 
 at least 2.30m. 
 
 Magnesia (rebuilt) 
 Hellenistic: 
 
 Eretria 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 2 . 40 m. 
 1.95 m. 
 
 Oropus 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 TABLE II (Fiechter) 
 
 Buildings 
 
 Radius of 
 Orchestra 
 
 From Center 
 
 of Orchestra 
 
 to Scaenae 
 
 Frons 
 
 Three-tenths 
 of Radius 
 
 Depth of Stage 
 or Proscenium 
 
 Height of 
 
 Stage or 
 
 Proscenium 
 
 Hellenistic : 
 Priene . . , 
 Ephesus . 
 Delos 
 
 Magnesia . 
 
 Graeco-Roman: 
 Termessus. . . 
 Sagalassus. . . 
 
 Patara 
 
 Tralles 
 
 Magnesia (re- 
 built) 
 Ephesus (rebuilt) 
 
 9.32 m. 
 
 12.33 m. 
 
 about 
 
 10.55 m. 
 
 9.31m. 
 12.25 m. 
 
 10.60 m. 
 
 2 . 79 m. 
 3.69 m. 
 
 3. 16 m. 
 
 2 . 74 m. 
 
 3 . 60 m. 
 
 9.90 m. 
 12.73 m. 
 11.85 m. 
 13 . 20 m. 
 
 10.65 ni- 
 
 14.47 m. 
 
 1 2 . 60 m. 
 17.94 m. 
 14.50 m. 
 
 12.50 m. 
 
 2.97 m. 
 3 . 80 m. 
 3-5Sm. 
 3.96 m. 
 
 3 . 20 m. 
 
 4.34 m. 
 
 4.00-5.5 m. 
 7 5401. 
 6 . 00 m. 
 6.50 m. 
 
 6.00 m. 
 
 6.00-9.00 m, 
 
 2.72 m. 
 2.62 m. 
 
 3.00 m. 
 
 more than 
 
 2 . 30 m. 
 
 2.77 m. 
 2.50 m. 
 at least 
 2 . 50 m. 
 more than 
 2.30 m. 
 2.62 m. 
 
 proscenium, in which some would recognize a stage. The 
 problem, therefore, is not merely as to what type of Greek theater 
 Vitruvius was describing, but the function of the proscenium 
 in Hellenistic theaters is also involved. On the other hand, 
 Fiechter, whose object is diametrically opposed to Dorpfeld's,
 
 INTRODUCTION 83 
 
 cites four Hellenistic and six Graeco-Roman theaters as positive 
 and negative arguments respectively. 
 
 It will be observed that five theaters appear in both tables, and 
 that for three of them the figures do not altogether agree. This 
 is to be explained as due to differences in the manner of taking 
 the measurements. Thus, for Termessus, Fiechter gives for the 
 depth 4 m. (Dorpf eld's figure) and 5.5m. Similarly, for Ephe- 
 sus he gives 6 m. and 9 m., and explains that the former does not 
 include the socle projections. Evidently Fiechter still beHeves 
 that the scaenae frons in Vitruvius' description of the Greek 
 theater ran behind the proscenium and did not include it (see 
 p. 76, n. 2, above). The same difference of interpretation prob- 
 ably accounts for 6 m. (Fiechter) and 3 . 50 m. (Dorpfeld) being 
 reported as the depth of the stage at Patara. 
 
 A similar opportunity for variance of measurement occurs 
 also in connection with the orchestra. In my opinion, Vitruvius 
 used this term in its broadest sense, viz., as including all the 
 space between the lowest tier of seats^ (Fig. 43). Fiechter's 
 measurement of the Hellenistic orchestra at Priene is given on 
 this basis. Sometimes, however, the term is used with reference 
 to the space bounded by the gutter.^ Fiechter states that this 
 was his method in measuring the Hellenistic orchestras at Ephe- 
 sus and Delos. The discrepancy in the reports concerning the 
 orchestra at Termessus (9 . 90 m. and 1 1 m.) is also to be explained 
 thus. 
 
 But whatever allowance may be made for variations of this 
 sort, I think that whoever impartially examines these figures 
 with the expectation of obtaining a clear answer to the problem 
 
 ' It is easy to see why he should do so. When Hellenistic theaters were made 
 over into Graeco-Roman structures, several rows of seats were often removed, 
 resulting in a drop of several feet between the auditorium and the orchestra (see 
 p. 116, below, and Fig. 24). So distinct a line of demarcation could scarcely be 
 ignored in favor of any less clearly marked boundary. In fact, the orchestra in 
 the narrowest sense (see next note) was sometimes not indicated at aU in the 
 Graeco-Roman theaters. 
 
 ' The word is applied also to a still more restricted space which in some Graeco- 
 Roman and most earUer theaters is marked off by a circular boimdary.
 
 84 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 involved will be doomed to disappointment, Vitruvius' Greek 
 stage should range between ten and twelve feet (Roman) in 
 height, or 2.959m. and 3.55m., respectively. Only one 
 Graeco-Roman stage and one Hellenistic proscenium in both 
 tables fall within these limits.^ On the other hand, though 
 Dorpfeld is clearly right in maintaining that the proscenia at 
 Eretria and Oropus are too shallow to accommodate the entire 
 histrionic action of a play, Fiechter makes it appear that Vitru- 
 vius' rule that the stage of the Greek theater should be about 
 three-tenths of the orchestra radius in depth is satisfied more 
 closely by the Hellenistic prosrenium than by the Graeco-Roman 
 stage. It should be emphasized, however, that he obtains this 
 result only by shifting the value of the word "orchestra," taking 
 it now in the largest and now in a narrower sense. 
 
 Fiechter has tried to utilize Vitruvius' diagram still further 
 by pointing out that in Vitruvius' Greek theater the distance 
 from the center of the orchestra to the front wall of the stage 
 (the hyposcenium) plus the depth of the stage, i.e., the distance 
 from the center of the orchestra to the scaenae frons, ought to 
 equal one radius (Fig. 43). The figures in the first two columns 
 of his table apparently show that this condition is met by the 
 Hellenistic theaters and is not met by the Graeco-Roman 
 theaters. But here again we encounter a variable quantity 
 caused by a dispute as to whether the proscenium is to be counted 
 a part of the scaenae frons (see above). In the Patara theater the 
 distance from the center of the orchestra to the hyposcenium is 
 8 . 50 m. (14 . 50 m.— 6. 00 m., Fiechter's figures), and the depth of 
 the stage according to Dorpfeld, who measures from the pro- 
 scenium, is 3.50m. Therefore, the total distance is 12m. as 
 against a radius of 11 .85 m. Again, in the Termessus theater 
 
 ' Of course, Dorpfeld and Fiechter cite only a fraction of the instances available 
 (others are given in Puchstein's table, op. ciL, p. 7), but it is to be inferred that they 
 bring forward those which are most favorable to their own position and most 
 difficult for their opponents to explain. For example, the prosceniimi of the 
 Hellenistic theater in Athens was about thirteen feet (English) high, which exceeds 
 Vitruvius' maximum. Consequently Fiechter says nothing about it. In general, 
 the Hellenistic proscenia were higher than the Graeco-Roman stages.
 
 INTRODUCTION 85 
 
 the distance from the center of the orchestra to the hyposcenium 
 is 7 . 10 m, (12 . 60 m.— 5 . 50 m., Fiechter's J&gures), and the depth 
 of the stage is 4 m. according to Dorpfeld, measuring as before. 
 Therefore, the total distance is 11 .lom. as against a radius of 
 II m. according to the largest (Vitruvian) measure of the orches- 
 tra. These correspondences are close enough so as not to be 
 unworthy of comparison with those obtained by Fiechter. 
 
 In my opinion, the net result of the above must be the frank 
 recognition that such data concerning the Greek theaters as are 
 at present known to us do not afford convincing proof as to the 
 type which Vitruvius was describing. Nor need this conclusion 
 surprise us, if we accept Dorpfeld's theory that Pompey's 
 theater was the first example of the Graeco-Roman type. We 
 have no information concerning the Mitylene theater, upon 
 which Pompey's building was modeled, nor concerning the 
 number or extent of its departures from that model. But any 
 theater in Asia Minor at that time must have belonged to the 
 Hellenistic type. Consequently, a certain resemblance between 
 Hellenistic and Graeco-Roman theaters was inevitable. If 
 Vitruvius was describing an old type, viz., the Hellenistic, its 
 variations in regard to the particulars just discussed must have 
 been too great for him to be able to find any single formula which 
 would comprehend them all, and he had to content himself with 
 recording a theoretical ideal. Or if he was describing a con- 
 temporaneous but developing type, viz., the Graeco-Roman, we 
 must suppose that his authority was not sufficient to secure the 
 adoption of his rules by later architects. 
 
 Are we, then, unable to determine which type of Greek 
 theater was the subject of Vitruvius' discussion ? I think that 
 we can, but that we must depend upon other arguments. I 
 mention a few of the many which have been advanced: (a) 
 In the Hellenistic and earher Greek theaters the orchestra, in 
 the narrowest sense (see p. 83, n. 2, above), usually formed a 
 complete circle, or at least, if its boundary was not actually 
 continued into a complete circle, there was room for one without 
 infringing upon the proscenium. Examples of this are found at
 
 86 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 Epidaurus (Fig. 46), Athens (Fig. 38), Eretria (Fig. 53), Oropus 
 (Fig. 56), Magnesia, Piraeus, etc. Fiechter denies this {op. cit., 
 p. 65), but only because he chooses to understand the word 
 "orchestra" in a larger sense. Now though Vitruvius used the 
 term in the largest sense (measured from the lowest seats, see 
 p. 83, above) he nowhere informs us what relative size the most 
 restricted orchestra should or might have as compared with 
 the largest space passing under that name.^ But his directions 
 require the stage to intrude so far upon his orchestra that it is 
 apparent that, if the same proportions were to be observed as in 
 the Hellenistic theaters, there could be no such full orchestra 
 with a smaller diameter. This is also true of Graeco-Roman 
 structures, and in this important respect they resemble Vitruvius' 
 Greek theater and the Hellenistic theaters do not. 
 
 h) The logium of Graeco-Roman theaters is never supported 
 by columns along its front wall. The only exception to this 
 statement is found at Priene (Figs. 63 f.), where the columns of the 
 Hellenistic proscenium were left standing when the theater was 
 remodeled. The reason why columns were not set in this place 
 is obvious — the floor of the Graeco-Roman stage naturally was 
 thought of as representing earth or a street and it was mani- 
 festly improper for either to be supported on columns.^ On the 
 contrary, so fundamental an aesthetic principle would have been 
 violated if the actors had regularly appeared upon the top of the 
 Hellenistic proscenium. But there is no doubt that Vitruvius' 
 Greek theater had a stage for actors. It is, therefore, more 
 likely that this corresponds to the Graeco-Roman logium than 
 to the colonnade-like proscenium of the Hellenistic theaters. 
 Moreover, the columns of the Hellenistic proscenia were in some 
 cases unmistakably equipped to hold painted panels. But if 
 the actors had stood on top of the Hellenistic proscenium, 
 this scenery would have been beneath their feet and not behind 
 them! 
 
 ' Doubtless for the reason that in the pitlike Graeco-Roman orchestra the 
 small^ circle really was not needed and often was not indicated (see p. 83, n. i). 
 » Cf. Dorpfeld, Athenische Mittheilungen, XXVIII (1903), 403 and 405.
 
 INTRODUCTION 87 
 
 c) Vitruvius discussed the theatrum Latinum in chapter 6 of 
 his fifth book and his theatrum Graecorum in chapter 7. The 
 former chapter is longer than the latter by more than a half, and 
 the latter begins with these words : *' In the theaters of the Greeks 
 not all things are to be done in the same way" (as in the Roman 
 theaters). The implication is plain that some of the directions 
 in chapter 6 are to be understood as applying also to the Greek 
 theater of chapter 7, and of course the particulars involved 
 would be those which are not modified by the discussion in 
 chapter 7. One of these is the injunction that, for acoustic 
 reasons, the roof of the portico at the top of the auditorium shall 
 be of the same height as the scene-building (v. 6. 4). The 
 scene-building is never built so high as this in Hellenistic theaters, 
 but the rule is often observed in Graeco-Roman and purely 
 Roman theaters/ 
 
 Dorpfeld has advanced several other arguments bearing upon 
 this problem,^ but in my opinion those just mentioned are 
 sufl&cient. Now if Vitruvius' Greek theater is to be identified 
 with the Graeco-Roman structures dating from just before the 
 beginning of the Christian era, it becomes impossible to cite 
 Vitruvius in support of a stage or the use of the proscenium as a 
 stage in Greek theaters of Hellenistic or earlier times. It will 
 be necessary, therefore, to turn back to the fifth century and 
 .^jamine without prejudice the conflicting claims with reference 
 to the presence or absence of a stage at that period. Our dis- 
 cussion of the extant theatrical remains of that century has 
 already made it plain that there is nothing in t hem which can be 
 employed^JoIpniveliEat there was a stage for the exclusive use 
 
 of actors. .^Ut fnrtnnatpry^f he panrity nf siirh evidenrp; js 
 compensated for by the preservation of forty-odd tragedies and 
 
 comedies of this period. A leading by-product of the stage 
 
 ' Cf. BetEe, Jahrbuch d. arch. Instituts, XV (1900), 71 f., and 'DoTpield, ibid., 
 XVI (1901), 35 f- 
 
 ' Cf. Athenische Mittheilungen, XXVIII (1903), 4245. The arguments 
 advanced in this article are reaflBrmed as still valid in Jahrbuch d. arch. Instituts, 
 Anzeiger, XXX (1915), 99 ff.
 
 88 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 controversy has been the recognition of the fact that these plays 
 are no t only to be taken into consideration together with other 
 cvidencTE ut thatth ey must bel he final test of all theories based 
 on evidence drawn irgm other sources. If a given theory will 
 not permit these plays to be "staged" easily and naturally^fhat 
 "theory ipso facto falls to the ground. As von Wilamowitz 
 wrote: "Von dem, was in den Stiicken selbst steht, lasst sich 
 nichts abdingen."^ Whatever judgment may ultimately be 
 formulated with respect to Dorpfeld's contributions to scemc 
 antiquities, one of his principal achievements must ever be 
 recognized as the minute, searching, and unprejudiced re- 
 examination of the plays themselves which he provoked. 
 
 An illuminating exemplification of the use that may be made 
 of the plays in the study of such problems has been given by 
 Professor Edward Capps.^ He showed that if chorus and 
 actors be thought of as separated by a clearly marked line such 
 as the edge of a ten-foot stage would afford, the action of the 
 forty-four extant dramas requires the chorus alone to pass over 
 this boundary at least sixty-eight times, the chorus and actors 
 together nine times, and the actors alone thirty-nine times. 
 Actors and chorus are repeatedly brought into the closest possible 
 contact. For example, in Euripides' Iphigenia among the Tau- 
 rians, vss. 1068-70, Iphigenia appeals to each member of the 
 chorus in turn, touching the hand of one and the chin and knees 
 of another, begging for their help. 
 
 ^ Again^ the inn' dents of many^plays come into harmony with 
 theatncal_cqriditions only if we suppose that there was no stage. 
 Perhaps the best arid clearest illustration of this is afforded 
 by Aristophanes' Frogs (405 B.C.). Xanthias and Dionysus, 
 engaged in conversation, enter the orchestra at one of the side 
 entrances (Fig. 44A). At vs. 35 the latter calls attention to 
 the nearest of the three doors in the proscenium, saying: "I am 
 
 ' Cf. Hermes, XXI (i886), 603. 
 
 ^ Cf. "The Greek Stage According to the Extant Dramas," Transactions of the 
 American Philological Association, XXII (1891), 5 ff. Similar results were obtained 
 by White, "The 'Stage' in Aristophanes," Harvard Studies, II (1891), 159 ff.
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 89 
 
 already near this door where I must turn in." It transpires 
 that„this is the house of Heracles (Fig. 44B), and Dionysus' 
 knock brings his brother in person to the door. From him they 
 receive directions for their trip to the lower world — that first 
 
 SEAT OF 
 PRIEST OF 
 DIONYSUS 
 
 PALACE 
 OF PLUTO 
 IN HADES 
 
 ABODE OF 
 HERACLES 
 AT ATHENS 
 
 ♦ + + ♦ COURSE OF DIONYSUS 
 o o o e COURSE OF XANTHIAS 
 A AAA COURSE OF CHARON 
 
 Fig. 44. — Movements of the Actors in Aristophanes' Frogs, vss. 1-460 
 
 they will come to a large lake which they must cross in a tiny 
 boat, then they will see perjurers, thieves, and criminals of the 
 deepest dye, and finally will be received by happy bands of 
 initiates (the chorus), who "dwell alongside the very road at the 
 doors of Pluto" (vss. 162 f.). Scarcely have they left Heracles'
 
 9© THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 door when they behold a trundle-boat pushed from the opposite 
 parodus into the orchestra (CC) and hear Charon's "Yo-heigh, 
 Yo-ho" (vs. i8o). He approaches the edge of the orchestra 
 where they now stand, but when they prepare to embark Charon 
 refuses to receive a slave on board and poor Xanthias is ordered 
 to run around the lake {C'C'D; vs. 193). Meanwhile Dionysus 
 and Charon direct their boat across the orchestra {CD) to 
 where, in the center of the front row of seats, the priest of Diony- 
 sus and other functionaries always sat (Fig. 45);^ and from 
 behind the scenes, to accompany their rowing, the choreutae 
 sing a "frog" chorus as if from the bottom of the lake (vss. 209- 
 69). Upon disembarking (at D) Dionysus calls for his slave 
 and catches his faint reply as he comes into sight (!) from his 
 "arduous" trip around the orchestra's semicircumference. 
 Xanthias now points out to his master the perjurers, etc., in 
 the nearby audience (vs. 275). Presently they are badly 
 frightened and Dionysus appeals to his priest, who is within 
 arm's length of him, to protect him (vs. 297). Now the sound 
 of flutes is heard and the chorus of initiates enter. Dionysus 
 and Xanthias crouch down, where they are, to listen (vs. 315). 
 Immediately the orchestra, which has just been a subterranean 
 lake, is changed to the imagination into a flowery meadow 
 (vss. 326, 351, etc.). At vs. 431 Dionysus starts up from his 
 lurking-place and inquires of the chorus, "Could you tell us 
 where Pluto dwells hereabouts?" and the coryphaeus promptly 
 replies: "Know that you have come to the very door" (vs. 436). 
 Dionysus orders his slave to pick up the baggage, walks across 
 the orchestra {DE), and raps at the central door (£), which 
 represents the palace of Pluto (vss. 460 ff.). We need continue 
 no further, for the remainder of the play contains nothing that 
 is noteworthy for our present purpose; but it is already evident 
 how closely the successive situations of the comedy correspond 
 to the physical conditions and arrangements of a stageless 
 theater. To those who would apply Vitruvius' account to the 
 
 ' Fig. 45 is from a photograph belonging to the University of Chicago. The 
 inscription beneath the seat reads: "Of the priest of Dionysus Eleuthereus." P. 344.
 
 Fig. 45 
 
 STONE CHAIR OF THE PRIEST OF DIONYSUS OPPOSITE THE CENTER 
 
 OF THE ORCHESTRA IN ATHENS 
 
 See p. go, n. i
 
 INTRODUCTION 91 
 
 fifth-century theater, this play presents ineluctable difficulties; 
 there is insufficient room for Charon's boat on a Vitruvian or any 
 other kind of a Greek stage, Dionysus must appeal to his priest 
 who is some eighty feet away/ Xanthias has no lake to run 
 around, and Dionysus must inquire the way to Pluto's palace 
 when he would be standing considerably nearer to it than the 
 chorus. 
 
 It was a convention in the earher fifth-century plays that if 
 the chorus and one actor were before the audience, an incoming 
 actor should speak first to the chorus and ignore the other actor 
 for the time being (see pp. 165 f., below). This convention was 
 oftentimes extremely awkward and unnatural; but if both 
 actors had stood on a stage several feet above the chorus it 
 surely would have been altogether impossible.^ 
 
 The only tangible argument for a stage of any height in the 
 fifth century is afforded by the occurrence of the words ava^aiveiv 
 ("to ascend") in Aristophanes' Achmnians^{v's>. 732), Knights 
 (vs. "i49J7and TFa^^^ (vs. 1342), and KarajSalveLv (" to descend") 
 in his Wasps (vs. 15 14) and Women in Council (vs. 11 52). All 
 of these plays, except the last, were performed prior to Aris- 
 tophanes' Frogs^^j^^(^we have already seen to be incapable of 
 presentation in a staged theater. In my opinion, then, these 
 words are best explained on the basis of the slight difference in 
 level_between the, orchestra and the floor of the proscenium 
 colonnade, which was probably elevated a step or two above the 
 orchestra and was often used by the dramatic performers 
 (see^pTBS, above, and pp. 238 f ., below) .^ Since Xh^ Acharnians 
 was produced in 425 b.c, the appearance of ava^aiveiv in that 
 
 ' Cf. scholium on vs. 299 of the Frogs: aTropoOcri 54 nves ttujs airb toO Xoyeiov 
 vepieXOwv Kal Kpvcpdeh 6iviadev tov iepdus tovto \4yet.. <t)aLvovTaL 5k oiiK eivai iirl toO 
 \oyeiov dW^ iirl rrjs 6px'r}(yTpas. 
 
 * Cf. Graeber, De Poetarum AUicorum Arte Scaenica (191 1), p. 4. 
 
 3 Cf. Rees, "The Function of the np66vpov in the Production of Greek Plays," 
 Classical Philology, X (1915), 128 and n. 2. For other interpretations consistent 
 with a stageless theater, cf. White, Harvard Studies, II (189 1), 164 flf., and Capps, 
 Transactions of the American Philological Association, XXII (1891), 642. A con- 
 venient summary from the pro-stage point of view may be found in Haigh, The 
 Attic Theatre', pp. 166 f. See p. 344, below.
 
 92 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 play is valuable as affording a terminus ante quern for the intro- 
 duction of a wooden proscenium at Athens. 
 
 The chorus of the fifth-century plays is fatal to any suggestion 
 of a Vitruvian stage, and except Puchstein, who frankly ignored 
 the Hterary evidence, no recent writer has advocated a high stage 
 for the theater of that period. The advocates of a high stage 
 have clearly seen that they canjnaEe headway only by^e 
 sacrifice of the dramatic chorus. They are assisted in this 
 aFtempt by the fact that only three complete plays of the 
 fourth century are extant, the pseudo-Euripidean Rhesus and 
 two comedies of Aristophanes, and that the role of the chorus 
 in the latter happens to be curtailed. Aristotle,^ also, speaks 
 of irrelevant embolima in the work of Agathon, who won his 
 first victory in 416 B.C. From these facts it has been declared 
 that at the close of the fifth century or early in the fourth the 
 chorus was either given up altogether or "its functions were 
 merely those of the modern band " or " of mere interlude-singers." 
 Accordingly, it has been argued that the actors at the end of the 
 fifth century stood upon a low stage (which for the kind of plays 
 then_exhibited was only less impracticable than a Vitruvian 
 stage) and that they were suddenly elevated to the full height 
 Qf_thej)roscenium before the close of the fourth century. It 
 must be added that even among those who accept Dorpfeld's 
 theory for the fifth century there is a tendency to go over to 
 Vitruvius for the period represented by the Lycurgus theater at 
 Athens and by the theater at Epidaurus — the last quarter of 
 the fourth century.^ So far as Vitruvius himself is involved in 
 this, the matter has already been disposed of. The alleged 
 disappearance or waning of the chorus, however, furnishes no 
 better ground of support for pro-stage writers. To trace the 
 history of the chorus in detail will not be feasible at this point.* 
 
 ^ Cf. Aristotle's Poetics 1456029, and see pp. 144 ff., below. 
 
 ^ Cf. White, op. ciL, p. 167, note, and Robert, "Zur Theaterfrage," Hermes, 
 XXXII (1897), 447. 
 
 3 See pp. 99, 116 f., 134!., and 144-49, below. Cf. Capps, "The Chorus in the 
 Later Greek Drama," American Journal of Archaeology, X (1895), 287 ff.; Korte,
 
 INTRODUCTION 93 
 
 It will be sufl&cient to state that there is no reason to believe 
 that the tragic chorus failed to participate in the action or to 
 bear a respectable share of the spoken lines until Roman times. 
 Even in New Comedy, in which the chorus is now known to have 
 appeared only for the entr^ actes, its on-coming is often used to 
 motivate the withdrawal of the actors. Such a motivation could 
 scarcely have become common if the actors stood so far above 
 the choreutae as to be safe from their drunken words and acts.^ 
 ^ Another argument in favor of a stage has been drawn from 
 the phrases eirl rijs (TKrjvrjs and airo Trjs (Tktjvtjs, which occur in two 
 fourth-century authors, Aristotle and Demosthenes,^ It has 
 been claimed that eirl "naturally means *on' and implies eleva- 
 tion" and that a-Krjvrj means "stage." If this exegesis were 
 correct, there could be no doubt as to the presence of a stage in 
 the fourth-century theater ; but as a matter of fact neither claim 
 is warranted. Everyone would concede that the primary, 
 untechnical meaning of cTKrjvr} is "hut" or "tent," and that the 
 word was applied to the scene-building, which was erected back 
 of the orchestra and which came to be increasingly substantial 
 in construction. Though the term acquired a variety of other 
 theatrical meanings, I agree with those who maintain that at 
 
 "Das Fortleben des Chors im griechischen Drama," N. Jahrbiicherf. kl. Altertum, V 
 (1900), 81 fE.; Flickinger, "XOPOT in Terence's Heauton and Agathon's EMBO- 
 AIMA," Classical Philology, VII (1912), 24flf.; and Duckett, Studies in Ennius 
 (1915), pp. S3 flf. 
 
 ' See p. 147, below, and cf. Graf, Szenische Untersuchungen zu Menander (1914), 
 p. 14. The same motive appears also in the fifth centur^^, in Euripides' Phoenician 
 Maids, vss. 192 ff., and Phaethon (Nauck, Tragicorum Craecorum Fragmenta, p. 602, 
 fr- 773> vss. 10 ff.); cf. Fraenkel, De Media et Nova Comoedia (1912), p. 71, and 
 Harms, De Introitu Personarum in Euripidis et Novae Comoediae Fabulis (1914), 
 p. 60; see p. 282, below. 
 
 *The former phrase occurs in Aristotle's Poetics 1453027, 1455028, 1459&25, 
 and 1460015, and Demosthenes xix, p. 449, §337; the latter in Aristotle's (?) 
 Poetics 1452^)18 and 25, Aristotle's Problems 918626, 92009, and 922617, and 
 Demosthenes xviii, p. 288, § 180. Cf. Richards, Classical Review, V (1891), 97, 
 and XVIII (1904), 179, and Flickinger, "The Meaning of iirl rijs a-Krji'rjs in Writers 
 of the Fourth Century," University of Chicago Decennial Publications, VI (1902), 
 II ff., and "Scaenica," Transactions of the American Philological Association, XL 
 (1909), 109 ff.
 
 94 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 no period did it mean "stage" in classical Greek. It is mani- 
 festly impossible to discuss the matter here, but I shall presently 
 have occasion to show that even in Pollux, who lived in the second 
 century a.d., it had not gained this meaning (see p. 98, below). 
 If (TKYjuT] does not mean "stage," it is unnecessary to argue that 
 eTTt does not mean "on," for actors could speak from the porch 
 or from between the columns of the proscenium, and so could be 
 said to speak "from the scene-building" (dxo rrjs (Tktjptjs) or to be 
 standing "on the scene-building" (exl rijs (XKrjprjs) without being 
 "on top of the scene-building." Just so the teachings of the 
 Stoic philosophers are referred to as ol airo rrjs (TTods XoyoL^ 
 without any impHcation that the Stoics spoke from a platform, 
 let alone from the top of the stoa. Nevertheless, it is a fact 
 that eiri does not always mean "on." For example, Diodorus 
 and Plutarch both employ eirl (TKrjvrjs in a non-technical sense 
 with reference to an occurrence "before" or "at the quarters" 
 of a commander. And Lucian's metamorphosed ass was 
 mortified at being shown to be a thief and glutton "before his 
 master" (cttI tov deffTroTovY — surely there was no superposition 
 there. Such passages, however, come from later Greek, when 
 the prepositions were less clear-cut in meaning, and it is better, 
 as Professor Gildersleeve has suggested,^ to "repose quietly on 
 the phraseological use of eirl; *on the playhouse side' is all the 
 Dorpfeld theory demands." 
 
 This being the theoretical situation with regard to the original 
 meaning of eirl rrjs (TKrjprjs, it is important to observe that aheady 
 in its fourth-century usage the phrase was employed vaguely, 
 often meaning httle more than "in the theater" or "in a play." 
 In fact, in one Aristotelian passage, as frequently in later writers, 
 it clearly includes both chorus and actors within its scope. "We 
 ought, therefore, to represent the marvelous in tragedy, but in 
 epic there is greater room for the improbable (by which the 
 
 ' Cf. Athenaeus, p. 211 B. 
 
 " Cf. Diodorus Siculus xi. 10, Plutarch Life of Brutus, c. xlv, and Life of Deme- 
 trius, c. xxxii, and Lucian ( ?), Lucius sive Asinus, §47. 
 
 3 Cf. American Journal of Philology, XVIII (1897), 120.
 
 INTRODUCTION 95 
 
 marvelous is most often brought to pass) on account of our not 
 actually beholding the characters. For example, Achilles' 
 pursuit of Hector, if enacted in a play (eTrt ttjs (TK-qvijs) , would 
 appear absurd — the Greeks {ol fxeu) standing still instead of 
 joining in the pursuit and Achilles (6 5') motioning them back — 
 but in epic verse the absurdity escapes notice."^ It is evident 
 that Aristotle was thinking of Homer's Iliad xxii, vss. 205 £.: 
 "But Achilles shook his head to the people in refusal and did not 
 permit them to cast their sharp weapons at Hector," and was 
 trying to show why a scene that was excellent in an epic could 
 not be dramatized with success. In Homer there are two groups 
 of characters: (a) Achilles and Hector, and (b) the Greek army. 
 In Aristotle's imaginary dramatization of the incident these 
 groups are represented by the actors (6 de) and the chorus (ol fxeu), 
 respectively. Consequently, if (TKr]vr] here means an elevated 
 stage, chorus as well as actors must have stood thereon. Nor 
 did the incongruity consist in the mere position of the chorus 
 inactive in the orchestra and the actors running on the stage, 
 but in the action itself, since the action is equally irrational in 
 the epic (where orchestra and stage assuredly play no part) but is 
 there more tolerable because the scene is not distinctly visuaHzed. 
 I do not insist upon cTKrjvrf here meaning "play" or "perform- 
 ance," though that is a frequent use and gives the indefinite 
 sense required; but at least until this passage can be shown 
 capable of another interpretation, believers in a stage cannot 
 fairly cite Aristotle's use of iirl rrjs (XKrjvrjs in support of their 
 opinion. 
 
 But though eirl (aird) rrjs (TKrjvrjs was broad enough to comprise 
 both chorus and actors, it naturally did not always include them 
 both. Particularly, if it were desired to distinguish between the 
 two kinds of dramatic performers, since ol eirl (dTro) rrjs dvixeXrjs 
 could be used of the dith3n-ambic choruses and other "thymelic" 
 (i.e., orchestral) performers, and could not possibly be appHed to 
 the actors, that phrase would naturally be used to designate the 
 dramatic chorus as well, and ol eirl (dro) rrjs crKrjvijs would be 
 
 ' Cf. Aristotle's Poetics 1460011-17.
 
 96 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 used in the restricted sense for the actors alone, even in opposition 
 to the dramatic chorus. This was especially common in the 
 case of ol ard CK-qvris, doubtless because the scene-building was 
 thought of as the home of the characters "from" which they 
 came, as the choreutae, whether dramatic or dithyrambic, did 
 not. Thus, a lyrical duet between the dramatic chorus and the 
 actors (a commus — koju/xos) is defined as a "dirge shared by the 
 xopov Kal <T(hv> ctTTo (TKTjvrjs."'^ But neither the original mean- 
 ing of eirl (airo) rrjs (TKrjvrjs nor this secondary development which 
 brought it into opposition to the thymehc performers and even 
 to the dramatic choreutae p'-esupposes a raised stage for the 
 exclusive use of actors, still less requires that aKrjurj should have 
 meant "stage." 
 
 Now ol cttI (olto) TTjS (rKT]vrjs and ol errl (ctTro) rrjs dvfxekrjs are 
 exactly equivalent to the more common expressions ol (XKrjPLKol 
 and ol dvfxeXLKoL For example, Euripides is called both 6 ert 
 TTJs (TKrjprjs 4>i\6(TO(f)os and philosophus scaenicus.^ The relation- 
 ship is an obvious one, but is worth noting because one of Bethe's 
 pupils has made aKrjviKos and dvixekiKos the basis of an attempt to 
 prove the existence of a stage in the fourth-century theater at 
 Athens. But since the earlier expressions eirl (a-iro) rrjs (XKrjvrjs 
 and eirl {airo) rrjs dvixeXrjs were used with the same distinctions of 
 meaning but without presupposing a stage, there is obviously 
 no need of one to explain the later expressions. Moreover, 
 Dr. Frei is guilty of an egregious petitio principii: he first accepts 
 Bethe's hypothesis that the Lycurgus theater had a stage and 
 consequently concludes that the distinction between cK-qviKos 
 and OvuekiKos must be explained on the basis of difference in the 
 place of performance there, and then uses these conclusions to 
 prove a stage at that period.^ All attempts to forge a pro-stage 
 
 ^ Cf. Aristotle (?) Poetics 1452624 f. 
 
 ' Cf. Clemens Alexandrinus (Potter), p. 688, and Vitruvius viii, praefatio § i. 
 Incidentally it may be remarked that Euripides' philosophizing and personal views 
 are found in his choral odes no less than in the histrionic parts of his plays (see 
 p. 140, below). 
 
 ^ Cf. Frei, De Cerlaminibus Thymelicis (1900), pp. 14 and 15. The dissertation 
 provoked a controversy between Bethe and Dorpfeld; cf. Bethe, "Thymeliker und 
 Skeniker," Hermes, XXXVI (rgoi), 597 ff., and Dorpfeld, "Thymele und Skene," 
 ibid., XXXVII (1902), 249 fE. and 483 ff.
 
 INTRODUCTION 97 
 
 argument out of any of these expressions must be pronounced a 
 failure. But of course in the Roman era, after most Greek 
 theaters had been provided with a raised stage, the differentiation 
 between eirl {airo) rrjs (TKrjvrjs and aK-qviKos, on the one hand, and 
 Ittl ((xtto) tt]s dvfxeXrjs and dvixeXiKos, on the other, became doubly- 
 appropriate, because the difference in levels now reinforced a 
 distinction which had already existed without it. 
 
 Vitruvius, of course, made no philological or archaeological 
 study of the two adjectives but explained them in terms of the 
 theater which was known to him (see pp. 76 f . , above) . It should 
 be noted, however, that Vitruvius mentions only the tragic and 
 comic actors under the term scaenici and includes under thymelici 
 "the other artists" who perform in the orchestra. Does the 
 dramatic chorus belong among the latter? Or is it simply 
 ignored here? The answer is far from certain. If we were 
 dealing only with new plays, it is conceivable that the choruses 
 were so detached from the histrionic action as to be able to stand 
 ten or twelve feet below the actors. But it is well known that 
 some of the fifth-century tragedies were still popular and fre- 
 quently acted; and as we have already seen, they were not 
 amenable to any such method of staging. In revivals of early 
 masterpieces, then, did all the performers, actors and chorus 
 ahke, appear in the orchestra, as in the old Greek theaters ? Or 
 was the chorus so reduced in size, and its manner of performance 
 so altered, that it could stand with the actors on the high and 
 narrow Graeco-Roman stage, as they all certainly did on the low 
 and broad Roman stage? It is impossible to determine. All 
 that can truthfully be said is that Vitruvius does not clearly 
 indicate the place of the dramatic chorus in the Graeco-Roman 
 theater. My own opinion is that he is speaking of two distinct 
 types of performance and is ignoring the dramatic chorus. 
 
 The same question arises in connection with Pollux. He 
 catalogues eleven parts of a theater. Of these, only six concern 
 us at present: <rKr)vrj, orchestra, logium, proscenium, parascenia, 
 and hyposcenium (IV, 123). Dorpfeld thinks that Pollux is 
 describing the Greek Hellenistic theater,^ but Pollux was for 
 
 ' Cf. Athenische Mittheilungen, XXVIII (1903), 420 f.
 
 gS THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 many years a professor at Athens and dedicated his work to the 
 emperor Commodus (161-92 A.D.). Unless his language pre- 
 vents it, it is more natural to suppose that he had the Athenian 
 structure of his own day in mind, and this would be the Nero 
 theater. In that case, every term falls into place. For the 
 Nero theater logium could refer to the stage alone; and as there 
 would be no sense in Pollux mentioning two words for stage, and 
 since no other term for scene-building as a whole (including 
 logium, prosceniimi, and parascenia) appears in his list, CKrjvif 
 must still mean scene-building and not stage. Pollux then 
 proceeds to say that "the scene-building belongs to the actors 
 and the orchestra to the chorus," and a Uttle later that "entering 
 at the orchestra they mount to the scene-building on ladders 
 (steps?)."* Believing that Pollux is describing the Hellenistic 
 theater, Dorpfeld interprets the first of these passages much as 
 Aristotle's use of ewl (a-rro) rrjs a-Krjurjs has just been explained. 
 The second passage he considers a reference to some such 
 unusual incident as occurs in Aristophanes' Clouds, where an 
 actor is bidden to climb (from the orchestra) by means of a 
 ladder to the housetop (i.e., to the top of the scene-building) and 
 destroy the roof .^ There is much merit in this explanation, and 
 it is not necessarily inconsistent with a belief that Pollux is in 
 general dealing with the contemporaneous theater; such learned 
 digressions occur not infrequently in his text. Nevertheless, 
 since stone steps leading from the orchestra to the stage of the 
 scene-building are a part of the Phaedrus theater at Athens, it 
 is not improbable that they belonged also to the Nero stage, if, 
 as Dorpfeld first thought, this was only about six inches higher 
 than the present stage (see p. 74, above). On the other hand, 
 the pro-stage writers boldly cite these passages in support of 
 their views and as if they pertained to the earlier periods of the 
 theater's history. But though Pollux is probably discussing a 
 theater with a stage, 0-^77^17 does not mean stage in these two 
 
 ' The Greek text has already been quoted on p. 78, nn. i and 2. 
 ' Cf. Clouds, vss. i486 ff. A somewhat similar use of ladders is mentioned in 
 Euripides' Bacchanals, vss. 12 12 ff.
 
 INTRODUCTION 99 
 
 sentences any more than in his catalogue of theater parts ; and 
 his testimony, however it is to be interpreted, should not be 
 appHed to fifth- and fourth-century conditions unless confirma- 
 tory evidence for so doing can be produced from these periods. 
 Now the last of these sentences from Pollux concludes a discus- 
 sion of the conventional significance of the parodi in the ancient 
 theater (see p. 233, below). In my opinion, the Nero stage, 
 though much deeper than the Hellenistic proscenium, was 
 shallow enough so that the parodi still led directly into the 
 orchestra. In that case, when the characters entered by either 
 parodus, as they would when they were thought of as coming 
 from the market place, harbor, or country, they would have to 
 pass through the orchestra first and mount from there upon the 
 stage by means of the steps, exactly as Pollux says. Further- 
 more, if actors could traverse this route it must have been 
 available also for the chorus. In other words, although at this 
 period the orchestra was the exclusive sphere of the dithyrambic 
 choruses and other thymelic performers and was the normal 
 place for the dramatic chorus, and though the actors regularly 
 stood upon the stage, yet both the actors and the dramatic 
 chorus appeared in either orchestra or stage according to the 
 requirements of the plays. It must be understood, however, 
 that this manner of staging was confined to the Nero theater 
 at Athens; the stage of the Graeco-Roman theaters and the 
 proscenium of the Hellenistic theaters were too high to make it 
 feasible, and in the purely Roman theaters all performers 
 appeared upon the stage. But why is it permissible to 
 accept a low stage for the Nero theater and reject it for 
 the fifth century? In the first place, the stage in Roman 
 times is attested by incontrovertible evidence, both literary 
 and archaeological, but for the fifth century it rests upon pure 
 hypothesis. In the second place, there is no reason to beheve 
 that the Athenian chorus in Roman times was brought into 
 actual contact with the tragic actors or had to pass to their 
 place of action so frequently as in fifth-century drama (see 
 p. 88, above).
 
 lOO THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 There is still another sentence in Pollux which needs to be 
 discussed. He declares that " the hyposcenium is adorned with 
 columns and sculptured figures turned toward the audience, and 
 it lies beneath (utto) the logium."^ There is no doubt as to the 
 general position of the hyposcenium — it is the room^ immediately 
 behind the orchestra and on the same level — but there is a 
 division of opinion as to the type of theater which had one and 
 as to its function. In accordance with his belief that Pollux is 
 describing the Hellenistic theater, Dorpfeld understands it as 
 the fijst story of the scene-building in a theater of this type.^ 
 The columns and statuary would then refer to the proscenium 
 just in front of it and to the figures which were sometimes placed 
 in the intercolumniations thereof. In HeUenistic theaters 
 Dorpfeld believes the top of the proscenium to have been used by 
 speakers in the public assembUes and for that reason to have been 
 known as a logium (see p. 59, n. i, above) ; the hyposcenium, of 
 course, lay on a lower level. PoUux' statement could not refer 
 to a theater with a stage because the wall beneath the front of 
 the stage was not decorated with columns or statuary (see p. 86, 
 above), the proscenium now being raised one story and appearing 
 at the back of the stage. On the contrary, the pro-stage writers 
 maintain that Pollux refers to the space under a stage. In this 
 instance I agree with them as against Dorpfeld, though I would 
 not look upon Pollux' statement as applying to the theaters 
 before his own day. Accepting Dorpfeld's opinion that the 
 Hellenistic theaters had no stage, I think that the first story of 
 their scene-buildings had no special name and that the term 
 " h3^oscenium" had not yet come into use; PoUux, however, is 
 referring to the space under the stage in the Nero theater. The 
 front of this was probably adorned with the same frieze as now 
 stands before the Phaedrus stage, and we may not dogmatically 
 
 ' Cf. Pollux iv. 124: rb dk vwo<TK-f]VLov Kioffi Kal dyoKfiaTloLS KeK6a/ji,r]rai irpbs rb 
 diarpov Terpa/tt/U^i'otS, xnrb rb Xoyelov Kelfievov, 
 
 ' Also, the front wall of this room, just as ctki/vt} is not only the scene-building 
 as a whole but also its front wall; cf. Flickinger, Plutarch as a Source of Information 
 on the Greek Theater, pp. 43 f. 
 
 3 Cf. Athenische Mittheilungen, XXVIII (1903), 418 ff.
 
 INTRODUCTION loi 
 
 assert that no columns stood there as well/ The Athens theater 
 was inclined to be sui generis at all periods, and these would not 
 be the only particulars in which the Nero theater differed from 
 the Graeco-Roman type. 
 
 There remains for discussion a passage in Plutarch. It 
 concerns an episode in the career of Demetrius Poliorcetes 
 (337-283 B.C.) and has been thought to refer to the theater of his 
 day. But a study has been made of Plutarch's practice in such 
 matters and it has been found that many times he deliberately 
 sought vividness of presentation by modernizing his accounts 
 and picturing his scenes amid the famihar surroundings of 
 contemporaneous life; in other words, the references to the 
 theater in connection with his anecdotes never presuppose any 
 other type of building than the stage-equipped buildings of his 
 own day, and in several instances this method resulted in patent 
 anachronisms. One example will suffice.^ Plutarch declares 
 that Lycurgus, the Spartan lawgiver of about the ninth century 
 B.C., believed that the minds of assemblymen were distracted 
 by "statues and paintings or the proscenia of theaters or the 
 extravagantly wrought roofs of council chambers," and so caused 
 the Spartans to hold their assemblies in an open space. The 
 author has here modernized his account in two particulars: 
 he speaks as if Lycurgus were famihar with a fully developed 
 theater building and as if it had already come to be used, else- 
 where in Greece, as a place of meeting for the popular assembly. 
 Of course, Lycurgus antedated the Greek drama and all but the 
 crudest forms of choral performances by centuries, and this fact 
 was as well known to Plutarch as it is to us. 
 
 Now Plutarch says^ that "Demetrius came into the city 
 (Athens) and ordered the entire population to be assembled into 
 
 ' Robert would emend the text so that the statement would explain the 
 proscenium instead of the hyposcenium; cf. Hermes, XXXII (1897), 448. In 
 that case vir6 must mean "behind," a possible meaning, and Pollux would be 
 speaking of the proscenium in a theater with a stage. Pollux includes the prosce- 
 nium in his catalogue of theater parts (see pp. 97 f ., above), but does not define it. 
 
 » Cf. Plutarch Life of Lycurgus, c. vi, and Flickinger, Plutarch as a Source of 
 Information on the Greek Theater (1904), p. 52. 
 
 » Cf. Plutarch Life of Demetrius, c. xxxiv.
 
 I02 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 the theater and hedged in the scene-building {<TKr}vi]v) on every 
 side with troops and surrounded the stage (XoYetoj/) with guards, 
 and himself descending (/caraiSas), like the tragic actors, through 
 the upper parodi (5td Tchv avo3 Trap68o}v) he ended their fears with 
 his very first words." In my opinion, the word KarajSas ("de- 
 scending") clearly shows that Xoyelov means "stage." The 
 
 Fig. 46. — Plan of the Theater at Epidaurus in Argolis 
 See p. 104, n. 1 
 
 "upper parodi," then, must be the passages opening upon the 
 logium from the parascenia. As Plutarch visualized the scene 
 and wished his readers to do so, Demetrius came out upon the 
 stage from one of the side entrances but did not address the 
 people from there, as an orator of Plutarch's own day would have 
 done.^ Instead, in his desire to show the Athenians his good- 
 will he passed on down the central steps, as Plutarch had often 
 seen the actors do in that theater (see p. 99, above) , and addressed 
 the assemblage from the orchestra. Since he could have passed 
 
 ' Cf. Plutarch Praecepta Gerendae ReipuUicae 823B, and see p. 59. n. i, above.
 
 INTRODUCTION 103 
 
 through only one side entrance, the plural (irapodoov) must be due 
 to a sort of zeugma, to imply that he came through one upper 
 parodus and one upper entrance, viz., the central steps. The 
 pro-stage writers who seek to apply Plutarch's words to the 
 Lycurgus theater in which the incident really happened, and who 
 use them as an argument for a stage at that period, are forced to 
 ignore the word /cara/3ds, for they cannot allow that "tragic 
 actors" regularly descended from the Lycurgus proscenium into 
 the orchestra. If we go back of Plutarch's words and inquire 
 what Demetrius actually did in the Lycurgus theater, the answer 
 is plain: he simply advanced from the scene-building into the 
 orchestra, and expressions consistent with this must have ap- 
 peared in the source from which Plutarch derived his account. 
 In fact, in describing a similar scene at Corinth, Plutarch retained 
 words which are vague enough to be applicable to either type of 
 theater/ He has simply modernized one account and brought 
 over the other unchanged. 
 
 The zenith of Attic drama had passed by, entirely for tragedy 
 and almost so for comedy, before the remains of theaters outside 
 of Athens become frequent.^ Nevertheless, these sometimes aid 
 materially in reconstructing or interpreting the Athenian theater, 
 and it will be necessary to dwell briefly upon a few of them. 
 Perhaps the earliest and most primitive is found at Thoricus 
 in southern Attica (Figs. 70 f.). This was built in the fifth or 
 fourth century B.C. and was subsequently enlarged somewhat. 
 The orchestra is oblong rather than circular, being bounded at 
 one side by a temple, at the other side by a greenroom or storage 
 chamber, and at the rear by a retaining wall. There is no reason 
 to believe that a permanent scene-building was ever erected 
 behind the orchestra. It is apparent that this structure has 
 
 ' Cf. Plutarch's Life of Arakis, c. xxiii: ^Trtcrrijcrar S^ raTs irapSdois toi>s 
 'Axaioi>s avrbs dirb rfjs a-K-qvTJs els rb ixiaov irporfKOe. For other interpretations, cf. 
 Robert, Hermes, XXXII (1897), 448 ff.; Miiller, Philologiis, Supplementband, VII 
 (1899), 52 f. and 90 f.; Dorpfeld, Athenische Mitiheilungen, XXVIII (1903), 
 421 fE., etc. 
 
 ^ A convenient chronological table of the extant theaters is given by Fiechter, 
 op. cit., pp. 24-27.
 
 I04 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 several points of resemblance to the Athenian theater of the 
 period between ca. 499 B.C. and ca. 465 B.C. (see pp. 65 f., above). 
 
 The most symmetrical of all the Greek theaters and one of 
 the^'best preserved is that at Epidaurus (Figs. 46-52 and 72,2).^ 
 Its architect was the younger PolycHtus, and it was built toward 
 the close of the fourth century B.C. If we are right in believing 
 that the proscenium was not used as a stage, then the Epidaurus 
 theater never had a stage. At any rate, it was not rebuilt and 
 provided with one in Roman times. In the center of the orches- 
 tra stands a block of stone with a circular cavity, doubtless the 
 foundation of the thymele. There is not only space for the full 
 circle of the orchestra (in the narrowest sense; see p. 83, n. 2) 
 but the bounding stones are actually continued for the full dis- 
 tance. The stone proscenium, containing half-columns (Fig, 72, 
 2) of the Ionic order and once eleven feet seven inches or about 
 twelve Roman feet in height, was erected in the second or 
 third century B.C. and replaced a wooden proscenium. The 
 parascenia were rebuilt at the same time and seem originally to 
 have been broader and to have projected farther from the scene- 
 building. In either parodus stood a handsome double gateway 
 (Figs. 49 and 51 f.), one door of which led into the orchestra and 
 the other opened upon a ramp, somewhat sharply inclined, which 
 debouched on the top of the proscenium. Ramps are found also 
 in the Sicyon theater. 
 
 The theater at Eretria, on the west coast of Euboea, is not 
 only one of the earliest but also presents several unusual features 
 (Figs. 53-55 and 72) .^ It falls into three periods. The old scene- 
 building was erected early in the fourth century B.C. A later 
 scene-building was erectedin front of the otherabout 300B.C. The 
 white marble proscenium belongs to the first century B.C. or later. 
 The precinct of Dionysus at Eretria was situated on level ground, 
 and this fact necessitated different arrangements than were 
 
 ' Fig. 46 is taken from Dorpfeld-Reisch, Das griechische Theater, Fig. 50. 
 Figs. 47-52 are from photographs by Dr. A. S. Cooley. 
 
 *Figs. 53-54 are redrawn from Dorpfeld-Reisch, Das griechische Tlieater, 
 Figs. 44-45, respectively; Fig. 55 is from a photograph by Dr. A. S. Cooley.
 
 Fig. 47. — The Auditorium from tlie North 
 
 FiG. 48. — Orchestra and Scene-Building from the South 
 
 THE THEATER AT EPIDAURUS 
 
 See p. 104, n. i
 
 Fk;. 49. — The West Parodus 
 
 Fig. 50. — The East Parodus 
 
 THE THEATER AT EPIDAURUS 
 
 See p. 104, n. i
 
 Fig. 51. — The Gateway in the West Parodus 
 
 W^ 
 
 Fig. 52. — Looking through the West Parodus 
 THE THEATER AT EPIDAURUS 
 
 See p. 104, n. i
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 lOS 
 
 feasible on the usual hillside site. The highest ground in Fig. 55 
 shows the original level on which the first scene -building, orches- 
 tra, and auditorium were erected (Fig. 54) . This scene-building 
 was of the common type with projecting parascenia between 
 
 ^._..;:-rA\ 
 
 Fig. 53. — Ground Plan of the Theater at Eretria in Euboea 
 See p. 104, n. 3 
 
 which the proscenium must have been constructed of wood. 
 The seats at this period apparently were wooden bleachers like the 
 iKpia of the primitive orchestra in the old market place at Athens 
 (see pp. 63 f., above); and when they proved unsatisfactory, 
 it seemed easier to excavate the center of the area than to throw 
 up a mound around it. Accordingly, earth to a depth of ten
 
 io6 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 and a half feet was removed to form a new orchestra somewhat 
 north of the old one. In order that the old scene-building might 
 not have to be taken down or lose its serviceability, the earth 
 just in front of it was left standing and was held in place by a 
 retaining wall. Over this space was built a new scene-building, 
 really only an episcenium. Communication between the old 
 level and the new was secured by means of a vaulted passageway 
 and stone steps. Before the retaining wall stood a wooden 
 proscenium, the top of which doubtless continued the floor of the 
 scene-buildings at the original ground level. The boundary of 
 
 
 
 Fig. 54. — Cross-Section of the Theater at Eretria 
 
 See p. 104, n. 2 
 
 the orchestra (in the narrowest sense) stopped at the semi- 
 circumference, but there was sufficient room before the pro- 
 scenium for the complete circle. A tunnel, six and a half feet 
 high and three feet wide and with stone steps at either end, led 
 from behind the proscenium to the center of the orchestra. 
 Such an arrangement is probably what Pollux referred to as 
 "Charon's steps''^ and was convenient when an actor was to 
 make an appearance from the earth or, like the ghost of Darius 
 in Aeschylus' Persians, from some structure which might 
 temporarily be erected in the orchestra. Somewhat similar 
 passages have been found in several other theaters, including 
 Athens, but because of their size or other considerations seem 
 not to have been used by actors. The downward pitch of the 
 parodus, owing to the excavations, is clearly seen in Fig. 55. 
 The marble proscenium is thought to have been about eleven 
 
 ^ Cf. Pollux Onomasticon iv, § 132: ' 0.I Xapd)vioL KXlfiuKes,
 
 yjc. 55— The Theater at Eretria as Seen from the Northwest 
 
 See p. 104, n. 2 
 
 Fig. 57.— The Scene-Building of the Theater at Orupus 
 See p. 108, n. i
 
 m
 
 INTRODUCTION 107 
 
 and a haK feet high and was supported by rimmed columns 
 (Fig. 72, jb). The parascenia did not project from this but 
 merely continued the line of the proscenium, as in many of the 
 Asia Minor theaters. Traces of tracks for the wheels of an 
 eccyclema (see pp. 2845., below) are said to have been found in 
 this theater on a level with the logium,^ but the stones have now 
 disappeared and their purpose is not free from doubt. 
 
 Inscriptions in the island of Delos^ show that contractors 
 received payment for a scene-building and proscenium in 290 B.C. 
 Panels (TlvaKes) for the proscenium are mentioned in 282 B.C. 
 Wood for the "logium of the scene-building" was paid for in 
 279 B.C. Extensive repairs and improvements seem to have been 
 carried through in 274 B.C. Stone was provided for the para- 
 scenium in 269 B.C. Wood was used for "panels for the logium" 
 in 180 B.C. These were probably used to close large openings in 
 the episcenium (see the dvpcofxara at Oropus on p. 109, below). 
 Most of these entries refer to wooden construction and antedate 
 the extant remains in stone. There is no orchestra in the more 
 restricted sense, but a gutter extends for about two-thirds of a 
 circumference. If prolonged, this would just reach the front 
 wall of the scene-building but would have a large segment sub- 
 tended by the proscenium. The scene-building is an oblong 
 with three doors in front and one in the rear. It is bounded on 
 all four sides by a portico about nine and a third feet high. The 
 front of this formed the proscenium, and it is clear that what was 
 an ornament and certainly not a stage on the other three sides 
 was primarily an ornament and certainly not a stage also on the 
 fourth side. The oblong pillars, which were left plain on the 
 other three sides of the building, on this side have their front 
 surfaces rounded off into half-columns, and a vertical rim 
 expedited the insertion of panels (Fig. 72, 3). There were no 
 parascenia in the stone theater except as these were provided 
 
 ' Cf. Fossum in American Journal of Archaeology, II (1898), 187 ff. and PI. IV; 
 see p. 288, n. 2, below. 
 
 ' A convenient series of excerpts from the Delian inscriptions is given by 
 Haigh, The Attic Theatre^, pp. 379 ff.
 
 lo8 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 by the ends of the side porticos. The inscriptions, however, 
 would seem to indicate that the situation had previously been 
 different. From the front corners of the colonnade slanting 
 doorways extended across the parodi. In the orchestra several 
 bases stand in front of the proscenium, probably for the erection 
 of statues or votive offerings. 
 
 There are theaters also at Delphi (Fig. 26), Megalopolis 
 (Figs. 27 and 72, la), and Sicyon, but it is not possible to discuss 
 every theater on the Greek mainland. We must not, however, 
 _mss by the small theater at Oropus in northern Attica (Figs. 
 56 f. and 72, 4).' It stood in the precinct of Amphiaraus and 
 dates from the first and second centuries B.C. The auditorium 
 is almost completely destroyed ; evidently the seats were always 
 wooden bleachers. Five marble thrones, however, stand within 
 the orchestra, an unusual arrangement which recurs at Priene 
 (see p. 113, below). Another peculiarity is that no orchestra, in 
 the narrowest sense, is marked out, either in whole or in part. But 
 if a circle is drawn through the seats of honor, as has been done 
 in Fig. 56, it falls just outside the proscenium. On the contrary, a 
 circle as determined by the lowest row of seats cuts into the 
 proscenium slightly. The parodi have been banked up so that 
 their outer entrances are on a level with the top of the pro- 
 scenium. The chief merit of this theater consists in the fact 
 that the superior preservation of its scene-building and the 
 presence of two inscriptions enable us to form a fairly clear 
 picture of how a proscenium and an episcenium looked at this 
 period. The front wall of the scene-building is pierced by one 
 door; the side walls are continued so as to frame the proscenium 
 but themselves turn sharply back along the parodi without form- 
 ing projecting parascenia. The proscenium consisted of Doric 
 haff-columns and was eight and a quarter feet high. Its central 
 intercolumniation was intended to be filled by a door, but the 
 four on either side were so made as to be readily filled in with 
 painted panels (Fig. 72,4). Across the architrave ran an inscrip- 
 
 ' Fig. 56 is taken from Dorpfeld-Reisch, Das griechische Theater, Fig. 35; and 
 Fig. 57 is from a photograph of the German Archaeological Institute at Athens.
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 109 
 
 tion: " . . . . having been agonothete, dedicated the proscenium 
 and the panels." Another inscription ran along the top of the 
 episcenium: " . . . . having been priest, dedicated the scene- 
 building and the doors. "^ The last item refers to five (or three) 
 
 I I I I ,1 
 
 Fig. 56. — Ground Plan of the Theater at Oropus in Attica 
 See p. 108, n. i 
 
 large openings in the front wall of the episcenium. Similar 
 doors are found at Ephesus, and they were doubtless used in con- 
 nection with the crane (ixrjxavv, see pp. 67 f., above, and p. 289, 
 
 ' . . . . ilyuvodeTT^crai rb irpouK'ffviov koL tov$ 'iriv[aKaSj and .... iepei)]j yevS- 
 
 fjxvoi TTjv <TKr)vr)v Kai to, dvpd)n{(iTa. tQ> 'AiJ.]<ptapdi{>. For the functions of 
 
 an agonothete, see pp. 271 f., below. For the dvptifiara, cf. Dorpfeld in Athenische 
 Mittheilungen, XXVIII (1903), 394, and Jahrhuch d. arch. InstUuts, Anzeiger, XXX 
 (1915), 102; wrongly interpreted in Das griechische Theater, p. 109.
 
 no 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 below). All in all, Oropus contributes very materially to our 
 knowledge of the ancient theater. 
 
 Beginning with the first century B.C. the only kind of Greek 
 theater which was newly built was what Dorpfeld calls the 
 Graeco-Roman type, cf. the theaters at Termessus (Fig. 58)' 
 
 r 
 
 Fig. 58. — Ground Plan of the Graeco-Roman Theater at Termessus 
 See p. no, n. i 
 
 and Aspendus in Asia Minor. During this period sever al Hell ^i- 
 istic theaters (e.g., those at Priene, Magnesia, Tralles, Pergamum 
 [fig. 28], Athens [?], Syracuse, Pompeii, etc.) were remodeled 
 to the Graeco-Roman type. That this is a Greek and not a 
 Roman form of theater is proved by the fact that its orchestra, 
 though no longer a complete circle, yet exceeded a semicircum- 
 
 ' Fig. 58 is taken from Athenische Mittheilungen, XXII (1897), PI. X.
 
 Fig. 59. — The Proscenium of the Graeco-Roman Theater at Ephesus 
 See p. HI, n. 2 
 
 Fig. 64.— The Theater at Priene as Seen from the Southeast 
 See p. 113, n. 1
 
 INTRODUCTION IH 
 
 ference (see p. 77, above). These theaters had a stage varying 
 from eight to ten feet in height and from eleven and a half to 
 twenty in depth. The scene-buildings were of three stories — 
 hyposcenium, logimn, and theologium (Fig. 24). The first 
 presented to the spectator an undecorated wall with doors lead- 
 ing into the orchestra; the second was terminated by a pro- 
 scenium with columns and statues. The proscenium was seldom 
 so simple as in the earlier theaters but was an ornamental fagade 
 with projections and recesses (Fig. 59), which added materially 
 to the area of the stage. 
 
 Hellenistic theaters could be remodeled either (a) by build- 
 ing a new (undecorated) wall in front of the old proscenium and 
 roofing the two over to form a stage or (b) by moving back the 
 front wall of the scene-building slightly and constructing a stage 
 between this and the old proscenium.^ In either case, a new 
 (decorated) proscenium would be erected at the back of the 
 stage. In the latter case, the columns of the old proscenium 
 would either be removed and a blank surface built in their stead 
 or they would be walled up. As already explained (see p. 86, 
 above) this was done because the floor of the stage was thought 
 of as representing earth or a street. At Priene (Fig. 64) the 
 Hellenistic columns were left standing, but this is the sole 
 instance of a Graeco-Roman hyposcenium having columns. 
 
 Method (a) is illustrated at Ephesus (Figs. 24 and 59-62),^ 
 where the first permanent scene-building was built about 300 B.C. 
 (Fig. 60). The dotted lines show the position of the stone 
 proscenium, eight and a half feet high and nine feet ten inches 
 deep, which was erected in the first century B.C. (Fig. 61). 
 There were no parascenia. The seven openings (^upcojuara) in the 
 episceniimi furnish an interesting parallel to the five at Oropus 
 (see p. 109, above). In the last half of the first century a.d. this 
 
 ' Cf. Dorpfeld in Athenische Mittheilungen, XXII (1897), 458, and XXVIII 
 (1903), 429. 
 
 * Fig. 59 is taken from Niemann's drawing in Forschungen in Ephesos, II, 
 PI. VIII; and Figs. 60-62 are from drawings by Wilberg, ibid., Figs. 5, 56, and 
 57, respectively. Cf. also Dorpfeld, "Das Theater von Ephesos," Jahrbuch d, arch. 
 Instituts, Anzeiger, XXVIII (1913), 37 ff.
 
 112 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 structure was converted into a Graeco-Roman type (Figs. 24 
 and 62). The new logium was left of the same height as the 
 old proscenium, but was made nearly twenty feet deep; and at 
 
 I m ti I I I I t I I » 1 
 
 Fig. 60. — Ground Plan of the Early Hellenistic Theater at Ephesus 
 See p. Ill, n. 2 
 
 certain points this depth received a considerable accession from 
 the recesses of the new proscenium (Fig. 59). These changes 
 were made at the expense of the orchestra, which derived some 
 compensation from the fact that several rows of the lowest seats
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 "3 
 
 were removed; as a result the orchestra became a sort of pit 
 (Fig. 24). The hyposcenium was plain and was pierced by- 
 three doors leading into the orchestra. The top story of the 
 proscenium in Fig. 59 was not added until the third century a.d. 
 Method (b) was employed at Priene (Figs. 63 f.).^ This 
 theater enjoys the distinction of being the only one in which an 
 altar was found, and this was not situated in the center of the 
 orchestra, as the foundations at Athens and Epidaurus would 
 
 Fig. 61. — The Later Hellenistic Theater at Ephesus: Above, Elevation of 
 Proscenium and Episcenium; Below, Ground Plan of Proscenium and Parodi. 
 
 See p. Ill, n. 2 
 
 seem to indicate was the case there, but on its circumference. 
 Seats of honor were placed in the orchestra, as at Oropus (see 
 p. 108, above) ; but in Roman times new seats for dignitaries 
 were erected in the center of the fifth row of seats (Fig. 63) . The 
 proscenium was of the same age as the scene-building and belongs 
 to the third century B.C. At the Graeco-Roman rebuilding the 
 columns of this proscenium were left standing, but the inter- 
 columniations, except the three which served as doors, were 
 walled up. The front wall of the Hellenistic episcenium was torn 
 
 ' Fig. 63 is redrawn from Athenische Mittheilungen, XXIII (1898), PI. XI; the 
 cross-hatched walls belong to the Graeco-Roman rebuilding. Fig. 64 is from a 
 photograph taken by Professor C. P. Bill and furnished by Dr. A. S. Cooley.
 
 114 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 down and a new proscenium was built about six and a half feet 
 farther back (see cross-hatched wall in Fig. 63). 
 
 The height of the Graeco-Roman stage as compared with the 
 low Roman stage was partly due to convenience in remodeling | 
 
 Fig. 62. — Ground Plan of the Graeco-Roman Theater at Ephesus 
 See p. Ill, n. 2 
 
 when it was kept at the same figure as the earlier proscenium, 
 but mostly to the conditions of exhibition.^ The Greeks did not, 
 like the Romans, sit in their orchestras. Choral and musical 
 competitions still were held there, as well as such Roman sports 
 
 ' Cf. Dorpfeld, in Athenische Mitikeilungen, XXII (1897), 456 ff.
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 "5 
 
 as gladiatorial and animal combats. It was necessary, therefore, 
 that the orchestra should be accessible from the hyposcenium, and 
 
 Fig. 63. — Ground Plan and Cross-Section of the Theater at Priene 
 See p. 113, n. i 
 
 the doors could scarcely be lower than six and a half or seven feet. 
 Accordingly, the stage could hardly be less than eight feet high.
 
 ii6 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 But the seats of honor in Greek theaters had always been in 
 the lowest tier (nearest the orchestra), and from there the view 
 of dramatic performances, when presented upon an eight- or 
 ten-foot stage, would be seriously obstructed.^ Usually when 
 such theaters were remodeled, as at Ephesus, Assus, Pergamum, 
 and Delphi, enough tiers were removed so that the lowest seats 
 would be only about five feet below the stage level. The 
 orchestra thus became like a pit and was inclosed with vertical 
 walls (Fig. 24). At Side the space from which seats had been 
 removed was built over with a six-foot wall, which was especially 
 suitable in view of the gladiatorial and animal fights of Roman 
 times. Where the auditorium was not altered, as at Priene and 
 Magnesia, it is supposed that the lowest seats were unoccupied 
 at dramatic performances, but were put to use, as the best places, 
 at orchestral sports and contests. 
 
 As to the function of the dramatic chorus in the period of the 
 Graeco-Roman theaters, especially in Asia Minor, we have little 
 information. Nevertheless, it is necessary to consider the 
 question. Already in Hellenistic (New) Comedy the chorus 
 appeared only between acts (see p. 147, below). It is possible 
 that by this time it had disappeared entirely or that it was so 
 detached that, though the comic actors stood on a stage, the 
 entr^ actes could be given in the orchestra, or that its numbers 
 were so reduced (see p. 135, below) that it could perform upon a 
 Graeco-Roman stage — in any case, the chorus in contempora- 
 neous comedy is negligible. The number of the tragic choreutae 
 had probably been reduced also (see p. 134, below) . But what is 
 still more significant is that, if the fragments of Roman drama 
 are any criterion^ the tragic choruses had abandoned the strophic 
 responsions of the old Greek tragedy, and this means the aban- 
 donment of the compHcated evolutions which had carried the 
 chorus over the full expanse of the ancient orchestra. It was 
 quite feasible for a small chorus which sang astrophic odes, spoke 
 
 ' Cf. Dorpfeld, ibid., XXII (1897), 458 f.; XXIII (1898), 337; and XXVIII 
 (1903), 426. 
 
 ' Cf. Duckett, Studies in Ennius (1915), p. 70.
 
 INTRODUCTION 117 
 
 through its coryphaeus, and danced in a restricted fashion to 
 appear upon a Graeco-Roman stage with the actors, to be closely 
 connected with the plot, and even to participate in the action. 
 As to the reproduction of old plays, the situation was not espe- 
 cially different. Fifth-century comedies were probably never re- 
 peated at this period. New Comedy, as we have just seen, would 
 present little difficulty. As to old tragedies, the choral parts 
 could be excised ad libitum or sung on the stage by a reduced 
 chorus without dancing (or at least without evolutions). It will 
 be remembered that I do not accept Dorpfeld's opinion that the 
 Nero stage at Athens was of the Graeco-Roman type. Accord- 
 ingly, I believe that different physical conditions and the glory of 
 their traditions kept up a livelier interest in the dramatic chorus 
 at Athens than elsewhere and still retained the Athenian orches- 
 tra as the normal place of activity for the dramatic choreutae 
 (see p. 99, above). 
 
 The foregoing account shows that there are many points of 
 dispute with regard to the Greek theater and many points 
 concerning which no one can do aught but guess. In closing, 
 let me repeat that we are interested in the Greek theater mainly 
 because of the Greek drama and that the extant pieces belong 
 almost exclusively to the fifth century B.C. Now for that century 
 the irreducible minimum, as shown by the plays themselves, is 
 that there can have been no place, elevated much or Httle, which 
 ^ was reserved exclusively for the actors.
 
 In the case of the drama the religious 
 origin and the persisting religious meaning 
 are self-evident. Performed at a festival 
 of Dionysus, beside his temple, in the 
 presence of his altar and his priest, 
 tragedy and comedy are the natural 
 response to that Greek demand for the 
 enrichment of worship by art. — Arthur 
 Fairbanks. 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF RELIGIOUS ORIGIN' 
 
 If a modern theatergoer could be suddenly set down in 
 ancient Athens, perhaps one of the first things to surprise him 
 would be the discovery that he could not have recourse to 
 his favorite recreation any day that he might choose. Of course, 
 this situation resulted from the fact that ancient drama was 
 connected with reHgion, was part of some god's worship, and as 
 such could be presented only at the time of his festivals. This 
 patron deity was uniformly Dionysus (Bacchus), god of wine, 
 for the reason that tragedy and satyric drama were offshoots of 
 the Dionysiac dithyramb (see pp. 2-4 and 6 f ., above) and that 
 the comus (/ccojuos), from which comedy had developed (see p. 7,6, 
 above) had a meaning and function similar to those of certain 
 rites of Dionysus and in the course of time was brought into 
 connection with his worship. At Athens, Dionysus had several 
 festivals, but only two at which plays were performed, viz., the 
 City Dionysia and the Lenaea. Thanks to the labors of many 
 scholars and the finding of additional inscriptional evidence 
 our information concerning these occasions, though still far 
 from complete, is somewhat less scanty than it has been,^ At 
 the City Dionysia tragedy dated from 534 B.C., while comedy 
 was not given ofl&cial recognition there until 486 B.C. Though 
 the Lenaea was the older festival, its dramatic features were later, 
 comedy being added about 442 B.C. and tragedy about 433 B.C. 
 It ought to be stated, however, that at both festivals there had 
 been volunteer, unofiicial performances of primitive comedy 
 (koojuoi) prior to the dates just given, when the state took them 
 
 ' Cf. the works mentioned on pp. xvii and xx f., above. There is no special 
 literature on this subject. 
 
 *Cf. chaps, iv and ix and the bibliographies on pp. 196 and 318, below. 
 
 119
 
 I20 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 under its formal protection. The comus was introduced into 
 the Lenaean festival between 580 B.C. and 560 B.C., and into the 
 program of the City Dionysia about 501 B.C. (see p. 24). 
 
 Now if our imaginary modern visitor to ancient Athens 
 chanced to be somewhat acquainted with the history of mediaeval 
 drama, he would probably surmise that the close connection 
 between Greek drama and religious festivals would result in the 
 plays being performed in temples, just as mysteries and miracle 
 plays were originally presented in the churches. But in this 
 he would be much mistaken. There is a fundamental difiference 
 in function between a Greek temple and a Christian church. 
 The latter is primarily intended as a place for congregational 
 worship, and its size and interior arrangements are chosen 
 accordingly. On the other hand, the temple was pre-eminently 
 thought of as the earthly abode of some divinity; it was, there- 
 fore, uniformly too small to accommodate any considerable 
 crowd, neither was its interior well adapted for that purpose. 
 In the second place, the worshipers at an ancient shrine were not 
 more or less rigidly restricted to a hst of members with their 
 more intimate relatives, neighbors, and friends, as is the case 
 with a Protestant church today. In most cases, any free- 
 born citizen would feel as free to worship at any particular 
 temple or to take part in its festivals as could any other citizen, 
 and on no infrequent occasions practically the whole body of 
 .citizens was present. In fact, so important was it deemed that 
 everyone should attend the dramatic festivals that toward the 
 end of the fifth century it was provided that whoever felt unable 
 to pay the daily admission fee of two obols^ should, upon applica- 
 tion, receive a grant for this purpose from the state. ,' "The whole 
 city kept holiday, and gave itself up to pleasure, and to the 
 worship of the wine-god. Business was abandoned; the law- 
 courts were closed ; distraints for debt were forbidden during the 
 continuance of the festival; even prisoners were released from 
 jail, to enable them to share in the common festivities."^ Boys 
 
 ' A drachma contained six obols and was worth about eighteen cents without 
 making allowance for the greater purchase value of money in antiquity. 
 
 * Cf. Haigh, The Attic Theatre (3d ed. by Pickard-Cambridge, 1907), p. i.
 
 H 
 O 
 
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 o 
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 o 
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 O 
 
 K 
 
 Ph 
 
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 THE INFLUENCE OF RELIGIOUS ORIGIN 121 
 
 and slaves were admitted, if their fathe^||fctheir masters were 
 willing to pay their way. It seems^^^Hfh the evidence is 
 inconclusive/ that despite the orien^HIre seclusion of Greek 
 households even women and girls mighfattend. They certainly 
 participated in the ceremonies of the first day. Plato and 
 Aristotle favored restricting the attendance, but their viejt^ 
 seem to have had no effect. Thus, children and respectable ' 
 women who would have invited divorce* by being present at real 
 scenes of that character were allowed to witness the indecencies 
 of satyric drama and Old Comedy and to listen to the broadest 
 of jokes. Such is the power of religious conservatism. 
 
 From these considerations it follows that the attendance 
 upon the dramatic performances was enormous, and that the use 
 of temples to accommodate the spectators was entirely out of 
 the question. Therefore it became necessary to provide a 
 separate structure, which in fourth-century Athens could seat 
 as many as seventeen thousand. From this fact arose thV 
 further necessity for an annual procession, in order to escort the 
 statue of Dionysus from his temple to his theater. Since the two 
 buildings were situated in the same precinct on the south slope 
 of the Acropolis and within a few feet of each other (Figs. 29 
 and 32), there was no need of the processional ceremony being 
 other than a -very simple one. As a matter of fact, from the 
 spectacular standpoint this was one of the most splendid features 
 of the festival and consumed the whole first day. It has been 
 claimed that several Attic vases, dating from the close of the 
 sixth century B.C. and depicting the *' wagon-ship" of Diony- 
 sus, give a hint as to the character of this part of the City 
 Dionysia (Fig 65).'' The car is drawn by two men representing 
 attendant sprites of Dionysus. The tip of the long equine tail 
 
 * The affirmative side of the question is presented by Haigh, op. cit., pp. 324 ff.; 
 the negative by Rogers, Introduction to Aristophanes' Women in Council (1902), 
 pp. xxix ff. 
 
 ' Cf . Frickenhaus, "Der Schiffskarren des Dionysos in Athen," Jakrbuch d. 
 arch. Inslituts, XXVII (1912), 61 ff. Fig. 65 originally appeared as Beilage I, 
 Fig. 3, in connection with this article. It is taken from a drawing by Signor G. 
 Gatti, a photograph of which was furnished me through the courtesy of Professor 
 Ghisardini, Director of the Museo Civico at Bologna.
 
 122 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 of one of them is^^rly indicated. In the car are two other 
 sprites, whether si^^kr satyrs, playing on flutes, and the god 
 himself is seated bet^^fchem. Alongside of the sacrificial bull 
 are two citizens standing. Farther forward are two youths with 
 branches (^aXXo^opot), then a youth with a censer, another with 
 a basket (Kavqcfyopos) , and finally, at the head of the procession, 
 abgyiwho is perhaps to be regarded as a trumpeter. Whatever 
 relationship may subsist between such vase paintings and con- 
 temporaneous drama (see p. 20, above) the entire free population, 
 from the chief magistrate of the city (the archon eponymus) 
 down, participated in the procession at the CityDionysia and took 
 the god's statue by stages from his temple to a point near the 
 Academy on the road to Eleutherae (Fig. 2). This direction was 
 chosen because, as the Athenian god's cognomen of Eleuthereus 
 shows, this image and its cult were supposed to have been 
 introduced from this town on Attica's northern border (see p. 21 
 and n. 3, above) and because the return of the processional was 
 intended to imitate the final portion of the original entry. 
 After the remainder of the day had been spent in rites and 
 festivities the procession escorted the sacred rehc back to its 
 precinct by torchlight and placed it near the orchestra in, the 
 theater, where it remained during the rest of the festival Thus 
 the god was supposed to have witnessed every play presented at 
 the City Dionysia from 534 B.C. on, and it is as a connoisseur and 
 critic of wide experience that he is appointed to judge between 
 the rival claims of Aeschylus and Euripides in Aristophanes' 
 Frogs, vss. 810 f. -Our EngHsh and Protestant ideas concerning^ 
 the nature of a religious ceremony are only too likely to give us a 
 misleading conception of the whole festival and especially of its 
 first day. The festa of some popular saint in Southern Europe, 
 who demands the veneration of his people and yet is broad- 
 minded enough to enter into the spirit of the occasion and is not 
 offended even by being made the subject of rolHcking jests, 
 would afford a far better parallel, and even this falls short. 
 Drunkenness combined with the darkness at the close of the 
 day's proceedings to intensify the license natural on such an
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF RELIGIOUS ORIGIN 123 
 
 occasion. Children born as the result of chance meetings at 
 these annually recurring processions are frequently mentioned 
 in New Comedy and often motivate the action.^ 
 
 y/ Nevertheless, the religious character of these festivals and of 
 the dramatic exhibitions connected with them was a very real 
 thing to the Greeks, and everyone in attendance would fully 
 
 I reahze that he was present at no secular proceeding. To a 
 mediaeval spectator of miracle plays and mysteries this feeling' 
 would seem perfectly natural, but it would be another occasion 
 of surprise to a modern visitor. Already in Elizabethan times 
 Shakespeare could assure his audience: ''Our true intent is all 
 for your delight." So exclusively is this now the motive of 
 theatrical performances that we seldom think of the theater as a 
 place for the inculcation of religious truths or for teaching the 
 
 ^: facts of religious history. It follows that the subject-matter of 
 
 _^ fireak drama was drawn from their mythology as inevitably and 
 uniformly as the text of a modern sermon is drawn from the 
 jBible. In fact, freedom of choice was originally still more 
 restricted. Whether tragedy was derived from satyric drama 
 and satyric drama from the dithyramb or whether, as I beHeve, 
 both tragedy and satyric drama were independent offshoots of 
 the dithyramb (see pp. 2-4), this remains true — the early dithy- 
 ramb was exclusively devoted to the exaltation of Dionysus, and 
 in consequence the themes of tragedy and of satyric drama were 
 likewise, at the beginning, entirely Dionysiac. By the time 
 of Thespis or soon thereafter (see pp. 20 f., above) tragedy 
 broadened out so as to treat any mythological theme. Of the 
 thirty-two extant Greek tragedies Dionysus appears in only one, 
 
 ' Cf . Plautus' The Casket, vss. 89 f . : 
 
 per Dionysia 
 
 mater pompam me spectatum duxit, 
 and vss. 156 ff.: 
 
 fuere Sicyoni iam diu Dionysia. 
 
 mercator venit hue ad ludos Lerrmius, 
 
 isque hie compressit virginem, adulescentulus, 
 
 <vi>, vinulentus, multa nocte, in via. 
 For the differences between Old Comedy, Middle Comedy, and New Comedy, see 
 p. 39, above.
 
 124 ' THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 Euripides' Bacchanals, and even in that he is disguised during 
 most of the play. But the playwrights were not content to stop 
 at this point. Phrynichus, who was a pupil of Thespis and won 
 his first victory in 5 1 1 B.C., introduced the innovation of dramatiz- 
 ing contemporaneous history. In 494 B.C. the Persians captured 
 and destroyed the Ionic city of Miletus. Shortly thereafter 
 Phrynichus treated this subject in a tragedy. Though it moved 
 the Athenians to tears, they were so indignant at being reminded 
 of the misfortunes of their kinsmen that they fined the poet one 
 thousand drachmae. Undeterred by this rebuff, however, in 
 476 B.C. Phrynichus brought out his Phoenician Women, dealing 
 with the Persian invasion of Greece in 480-479 B.C. This 
 play served as a model for Aeschylus' Persians (472 B.C.) on 
 the same subject. But by laying the scenes of these plays 
 in Asia Minor or Persia the dramatists gained remoteness of 
 place instead of the usual remoteness of time. As Racine^ wrote 
 on a similar occasion: "The general public makes hardly any 
 distinction between that which is removed from them by a 
 thousand years or by a thousand leagues." A still further 
 innovation was made toward the close of the fifth century by 
 Agathon, in whose Antheus both incidents and character names 
 were entirely fictitious. A very similar development can be 
 traced in mediaeval times. Originally the gospel story was the 
 theme, then subordinate incidents of Scripture, then the lives 
 of saints since Bible times, then allegorical tales, etc. 
 
 But in practice Greek tragedians did not avail themselves 
 of their liberty. Agathon's innovation was not followed up; 
 and though the Greeks did not sharply differentiate mythology 
 and history,^ they did not take kindly to the treatment of con- 
 temporary events in tragedy. The three plays above mentioned 
 exhaust the instances at Athens. Even in mythological subjects 
 experimentation soon led them to confine themselves to the 
 stories of a few houses — -to the misfortunes of Oedipus, Orestes, 
 Meleager, Thyestes, etc. This tendency is illustrated by the 
 
 ^ Cf . his Preface to Bajazet. 
 
 ' Cf. Ribbeck, Rheinisches Museum, XXX (1875), 145.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF RELIGIOUS ORIGIN 125 
 
 fact that three of the extant tragedies, Aeschylus' Libation- 
 Bearers, Sophocles' Electra, and Euripides' play of the same name, 
 ring the changes upon the same topic. Since almost every 
 playwright of consequence would turn his hand to these oft-tried 
 themes^the only chance of success necessarily lay in improving 
 upon the dramatic technique and the elaboration of character 
 and plot already displayed by one's rivals. As Aristotle wrote,^ 
 each poet was expected "to surpass that which was the strong 
 point of each of his predecessors." We are therefore not sur- 
 prised to learn from the same source that in his day the finest 
 tragedies were based upon these hackneyed subjects. Further- 
 more, the practice is commended by so high a modern authority 
 as Goethe: "If I were to begin my artistic life over again, I 
 should never deal with a new story. I should always invest the 
 old stories with new and more vital meanings." 
 
 The poets' choice of tragic themes from traditional my thology 
 does not mean that their material was rigid and intractable. 
 They enjoyed entire freedom to revamp the old tales, by inven- 
 tion, alteration, or suppression, in order to suit their own pur- 
 poses. Here again the practice of the mediaeval playwrights, 
 though more restricted to minor matters, affords the best clue. 
 On the other hand, the fact that most spectators knew at least 
 the general outline of his plot in advance allowed the ancient 
 dramatist to introduce numerous subtleties that are quite beyond 
 the reach of modern playwrights (see pp. 315 f., below). It is 
 true, as Aristotle^ warns us, that "even the known stories were 
 known only to a few." Nevertheless, the more intelligent in the 
 audience would always be well informed, and of the oft-repeated 
 tragic themes even the most stupid could hardly remain in 
 ignorance. 
 
 In the case of satyric drama the situation was naturally 
 somewhat different. Whatever the relationship between the 
 dithyramb, satyr-play, and tragedy, the fact remains that the 
 satyr-play was placed in the program of the City Dionysia 
 
 " Cf. Aristotle's Poetics 145606 and 1453019. 
 ' Cf. ibid., 1451^25.
 
 126 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 largely as a concession to the Dionysiac element. Consequently, 
 Bacchic themes were retained in the satyric drama long after 
 they had been abandoned by tragedy. Even so, it did not take 
 long to develop a secondary stage in which the Dionysiac 
 element is practically restricted to the appearance of Bacchus' 
 , attendant sprites, the chorus of satyrs, who are harshly super- 
 ' imposed upon some non-Dionysiac subject. Until recently our 
 direct information concerning the satyr-play was derived solely 
 from Euripides' Cyclops, the only extant representative of this 
 genre, but now the major portion of another, The Trackers 
 (Ichneutae) by Sophocles, has been revealed to us.'' Both in the 
 Cyclops and now in the Trackers the Bacchic element is restricted 
 to Silenus and the chorus of satyrs, and Dionysus himself figures 
 only as he is appealed to or mentioned in the choral odes or 
 episodes. How generally Bacchus was omitted from his own 
 special brand of play we have no means of knowing, but it was 
 inevitable that this should not be a rare occurrence. The myths 
 in which the wine-god could appropriately appear in person must 
 soon have been exhausted; and the playwrights, more concerned 
 in producing an interesting performance than in maintaining an 
 outworn custom, would yearn to exercise in this field the same 
 freedom that they had already won for themselves in the com- 
 position of tragedies. Even in the two plays now before us the 
 new wine is fairly bursting the seams of the old wineskins. In 
 the Cyclops, Silenus and his children are joined to the story of 
 Odysseus' adventures in Polyphemus' cave, in which neither 
 earlier mythology nor rhyme or adequate reason had vouchsafed 
 them a place. Their presence is explained by the statement that 
 they had set sail in search of Dionysus, after learning that he had 
 been seized by pirates, were shipwrecked near Mt. Aetna, and 
 enslaved by the Cyclops (vss. iiff.). The situation in the 
 Trackers is still more forced. The play deals with the theft of 
 Apollo's cattle by the infant Hermes. Upon the offer of a 
 reward, the satyrs turn detectives in order to track down the 
 stolen beasts. Thus it will be seen that in both plays the 
 
 ' Cf. Oxyrhynchns Papyri, IX (191 2), 30 ff.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF RELIGIOUS ORIGIN 127 
 
 Dionysiac element is a mechanical, extraneous feature in the plot. 
 It is not surprising that the dramatic poets should chafe under the 
 limitations of so clumsy a compromise/ 
 
 Yet again, in the case of comedy the situation was still 
 different. The embryonic form of comedy, the comus, was 
 originally intended by a sort of sympathetic magic to superinduce 
 friendly powers and to expel malign spirits, and involved neither 
 plot, unity of theme, nor fiction. When these features were 
 introduced, they were influenced by mature tragedy and by 
 the Sicilian mime, which had aheady reached a high stage of de- 
 velopment (see pp. 36 f. and 46-52, above). As a result, though 
 comedy had become as much a part of Dionysiac worship as was 
 tragedy or satyric drama, it did not go through a stage of 
 Bacchic or semi-Bacchic themes, but passed at once to fictitious 
 subjects. The difference between tragedy and comedy in this 
 regard is clearly indicated by Antiphanes, a poet of Middle 
 Comedy:* 
 
 Tragedy is a happy creation in every respect, since the audience knows 
 the plot before ever a word has been spoken. The tragic poet needs only 
 to awaken their memories. If I barely mention Oedipus, they know all the 
 rest: that his father is Laius, his mother Jocaste, who are his sons and 
 
 daughters, what he has done, and what wUl befall him This is not 
 
 possible for us, but we must invent everything: new names, preceding 
 events, the present circumstances, the catastrophe, and the exposition. 
 
 Furthermore, the SiciHan mime seems to have been unassociated 
 with religious worship, and perhaps this fact has a share in 
 explaining the irreverent, almost atheistic, tendency which Attic 
 comedy manifested. Though it was part of divine worship, it 
 treated the divinities with the utmost disrespect. Even Diony- 
 sus himself, the patron deity of the festivals, is represented in 
 Aristophanes' Frogs as cowardly, lecherous, and foolish, beaten 
 with many stripes before the eyes of his worshipers. 
 
 The Greek theater suffered no scene of bloodshed to be 
 enacted before its audience. When the plot of the play, as was 
 
 ' For still further developments in the history of satyric drama see pp. 198 f., 
 below. 
 
 * Cf. Kock, Comicorum Atticoriim Fragmenta, II, 90, fr. 191.
 
 128 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 not infrequently the case, required such an incident, the harrow- 
 ing details were narrated by a messenger who had witnessed the 
 event. In Aeschylus' Persians the combats between Greeks and 
 Asiatics are all narrated. In Aeschylus' Seven against Thebes 
 and Euripides' Phoenician Maids the fatal duel between the 
 brothers occurs off-stage. Similarly, in Euripides' Bacchanals 
 the report is brought to Thebes that Pentheus has been torn to 
 pieces on Mt, Cithaeron. In these and numerous other cases 
 the incidents related took place at some distance from the 
 imaginary scene. When it is remembered that the action of 
 Greek plays is usually laid before a palace or temple, it will at 
 once occur to everyone how conveniently located such a struc- 
 ture was for violence nearer the scene of action. Thus, in Aeschy- 
 lus' Libation-Bearers (vs. 904) Orestes drives his mother indoors 
 to dispatch her, and in Sophocles' Electra he is lucky enough to 
 enter the palace and find her there alone and off her guard. 
 This situation recurred again and again, and a further refinement 
 lay close at hand. The hearts of the spectators were often 
 thrilled with tragic fear or pity by hearing from behind the 
 scenes the screams of the dying, their cries for help, even their 
 death rattle. So Agamemnon dies in Aeschylus' play of that 
 name (vss. 1343-45); so Clytemnestra in Sophocles' Electra 
 (vss. 1404 ff.) and Euripides' play of the same title (vss. 1 165-67) ; 
 so Lycus in Euripides' Madness of Heracles (vss. 749 and 754); 
 and so many another. The murder of Duncan in Macbeth 
 shows that such scenes must have been far more effective than 
 any attempt at a realistic representation could possibly have 
 been. An additional effect is sometimes secured by flinging 
 open the back scene and disclosing the dead forms within; cf. 
 the slaughtered children of Heracles (Euripides' Madness of 
 Heracles, vss. 1029 ff.), Eurydice (Sophocles' Antigone, vs. 1293), 
 etc. Sometimes death-cries and the opened scene are combined, 
 as in Aeschylus' Agamemnon, vss. 1343-45, 1372 ff. StiU 
 another artifice for avoiding seen violence is found in Euripides' 
 Children of Heracles, which ends by Alcmene and her attendants 
 dragging Eurystheus off to his doom.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF RELIGIOUS ORIGIN 129 
 
 The rule of Greek dramaturgy which has just been described 
 is Hable to one notable exception — the dramatic characters may > 
 not commit murder before the eyes of the spectators but they 
 may commit suicide there. Not, of course, that all suicides ; V 
 must take place within the audience's vision; most of them, like! 
 all cases of manslaughter, are reported. But the important fact 
 remains that at least in some instances suicide is enacted before 
 the spectators' very eyes. So, in Sophocles' Ajax that hero falls 
 upon his sword (vs. 865), and in Euripides' Suppliants (vs. 107 1) 
 Evadne flings herself from the rocks upon her husband's funeral 
 pyre.cit thus appears that it is neither the bare fact of death 
 nor yet its mere hideousness which was obnoxious to ancient ^ 
 taste. The first conclusion is confirmed by the fact that the Hf e- 
 strength of Alcestis is allowed to ebb away upon the stage 
 (Euripides' Alcestis, vs. 391), and the second by the sight of 
 Heracles racked by agonizing tortures in Sophocles' Maidens 
 of Trachis, vss. 983 ff. The distinction between what is 
 permissible and what is forbidden seems to hinge upon a ;? 
 trivial matter, viz., whether only one character is involved or 
 several. 
 
 Passing now to the raison d^etre of this practice I will first 
 mention some minor considerations. The paucity of actors in 
 Greek drama (see p. 182, below) made any representation of mass 
 effects, such as a battle, quite impossible. The lack of com- 
 pKcated stage machinery prevented the melodramatic actualism 
 that modern audiences love so well. Being thus unaccustomed 
 to the more difficult feats of realism, the ancients had not learned 
 to demand it in lesser matters. Without a sigh they dispensed 
 with that which everyone knew to be incapable of actual enact- / 
 ment before their eyes. Furthermore, in the absence of a drop 
 curtain (see pp. 243 f., below) it would have been necessary for 
 characters slain upon the stage either to rise and walk casually 
 off, as in the Chinese theaters of today, or to be carried off. The 
 first alternative is unthinkable in ancient Greece and the second 
 would have been too monotonous.
 
 130 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 It has also been claimed^ that the use of masks, each with its 
 own unchanging features, would have been an insuperable 
 obstacle to scenes of violence, as normally presupposing great 
 and rapid changes in the facial expressions of the characters. 
 But in connection with other scenes the Greeks frequently ignored 
 and frequently evaded the difficulties caused by the immobility 
 of their masks (see pp. 222 f,, below); so there is no reason to 
 believe that the use of masks would by itself have driven inci- 
 dents of this nature from the Greek stage. 
 
 Ludovico Castelvetro (1570) alleged that the high and narrow 
 stage of the Greek theater was too cramped for the dignified 
 representation of violence. Whatever plausibility this sugges- 
 tion may previously have enjoyed has beerulost since Dorpfeld 
 has shown that the fifth-century theater at Athens had no raised 
 platform for the exclusive use of actors and that actors and 
 chorus stood alike in the broad expanse of the orchestra (see 
 pp. 79 and 117, above) (Figs. 22 f.). 
 
 It is customary to explain the Greek avoidance of violence 
 upon aesthetic grounds; to assert that the susceptibilities of the 
 Greeks were so refined as to have been offended by scenes of 
 bloodshed. That which would be disagreeable or painful to see 
 in real Hfe should never be presented to an audience. This is the 
 French position. In the first place the French took over the 
 Greek practice on faith. It was only when they were called upon 
 to explain it that they proceeded to evolve this justification. 
 Then the logic of their argument carried them beyond their 
 models. "A character in < French > tragedy could be per- 
 mitted to kill himself, whether he did it by poison or steel: 
 what he was not suffered to do was to kill someone else. And 
 while nothing was to be shown on the stage which could offend 
 the feelings through the medium of the eyes, equally was nothing 
 to he narrated with the accompaniment of any adjuncts that could 
 possibly arouse disagreeable sensations in the mind."^ They were 
 
 ' Cf. Freytag s Technique of the Drama^, translated by MacEwan, p. 75, and 
 Hense, Die Modificining der Maske in der griechischen Tragodi^ (1905), pp. 2 f. 
 ' Cf. hounsbury, Shakespeare as a Dramatic Artist (1902), p. 175 (italics mine).
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF RELIGIOUS ORIGIN 131 
 
 therefore under the necessity of attempting to paint the lily — 
 ** they took exception to the way in which Philoctetes speaks of 
 the plasters and rags which he applied to his sores ; and equally 
 so to the description which Tiresias gives in the Antigone of the 
 filth of the ill-omened birds which had fed on the carcass of 
 Polynices."' I would not be understood as altogether rejecting u^ 
 this aesthetic explanation; doubtless the practice of the Greek 
 playwrights created, if it did not find ready made, such taste 
 concerning these matters. It certainly applies to cases of 
 bhnding, which, whether self-imposed (Sophocles' ^ledvpus the 
 King) or wrought by others (Euripides' Hecabe), always take 
 place off-scene — the later sight of the bloody masks and ghastly 
 eyes is harrowing enough and to spare. Nevertheless, however 
 strong a case may be made out for it, the aesthetic interpreta- 
 tion cannot, because of one cogent objection, provide the real, 
 ultimate reason for the convention. Is suicide so much less 
 revolting than homicide that the same taste can consistently " 
 shrink from the sight of one but tolerate the other ? 
 
 The same objection Hes against another suggestion, viz., 
 that the theater precinct was sacred ground which would be 
 polluted by murder^^^ough done in mimicry. To those who 
 remember the taint which the Greeks thought to be brought upon 
 a land by manslaughter, this theory will not, at first, seem lack- 
 ing in plausibility. But unfortunately, accidental homicide and ;:3^ 
 suicide were thought to involve pollution no less than did murder. 
 Even a natural death, in the Greeks' opinion, brought a taint. 
 Consequently, this suggestion fails to explain how suicides and 
 natural deaths could occur on the Greek stage. 
 
 My own interpretation of the phenomena under consideration 
 is somewhat similar to that just mentioned. Not only was the 
 theater sacred ground but all who were connected with the 
 dramatic performances — those who bore the expenses (the 
 choregi; see p. 270, below), poets, actors, and chorus — "were 
 looked upon as ministers of religion, and their persons were 
 
 ' Cf. ibid., p. 204. The passages referred to are Sophocles' Philoctetes, vss. 
 38 f., 649 f., and 696-99, and Antigone, vss. 1016-22 and 1080-83. The expressions 
 employed in the Greek could be seriously objected to only by the most fastidious.
 
 132 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 sacred and inviolable."^ Even the audience shared in this 
 immunity. Any outrage at such a time and in such a place was 
 not viewed in its usual light but was visited with severe penalties 
 as an act of desecration. Thus, when Demosthenes acted as 
 choregus for a dithyrambic chorus in 350 B.C. and was assaulted 
 by Midias, he wished the latter to be punished, not merely for 
 assault (v(3pLs) but for sacrilege (ctcrejSeta) .^ In the speech which 
 he prepared for this suit Demosthenes cited some of the prece- 
 dents (§§ 178-80). He reminded his auditors how Ctesicles had 
 been put to death for striking a personal enemy with a whip 
 during the procession and how in 363 B.C. the archon's own father 
 had only by a natural death avoided punishment for having 
 violently ejected a spectator from a seat which he had unwarrant- 
 ably occupied. In like manner the person of an actor was for 
 the time being sacrosanct. Of course, the Greeks were not fools ; 
 they knew that a single blow in genuine anger was a greater 
 outrage than murder itself in make-believe. Convention allowed 
 the audience to express their disapproval of actors or of their 
 performances by pelting them with figs, olives, or even stones. 
 Custom had dulled their sanctity to this extent. Nevertheless, 
 the taboo which had been derived from ancient ritual prevented 
 one actor from murdering another upon the stage. But this 
 taboo did not protect an actor against himself or against the 
 assaults of nature or of the gods. Hence suicides and natural 
 deaths were permissible within the audience's sight, though 
 homicides were not. ;,o rd V 
 
 In comedy the influences which tended to prevent the enact- 
 ing of scenes of violence were partly nullified by the fact that one 
 of the purposes of the comus and other fertiUty rites had been 
 the expulsion of malign powers by violence, not only of language 
 but also of conduct (see p. 37, above). Of course the comic 
 playwrights rarely had occasion to treat of death or murder. 
 But scenes of physical violence and horseplay, such as the lashes 
 administered to Xanthias and Dionysus (at his own festival !) in 
 Aristophanes' Frogs, vss. 644 ff., are common. 
 
 ^ Cf. Haigh, The Attic Theatre^, p. 2. 
 
 ' Cf. argument, Demosthenes' Against Midias §§ 2 f.
 
 That most wonderful of Greek dra- 
 matic instruments, the chorus. — Gilbert 
 Murray. 
 
 A really great artist can always trans- 
 form the limitations of his art into valu- 
 able qualities. — Oscar Wilde. 
 
 CHAPTER n 
 THE INFLUENCE OF CHORAL ORIGIN^ 
 
 Tragedy and satyric drama were derived from the dithyramb ; , 
 comedy from the comus (see pp. 6, 23 f., 36, and 43 f., above). 
 Now both the dithyramb and the comus were entirely choral. 
 Consequently early tragedy and comedy were also choral. No 
 other fact in the history of Greek drama is better authenticated, 
 both by Hterary tradition and the extant plays, than this.^ The 
 dithyrambic chorus consisted of fifty dancers, and this seems to 
 have been the size of the chorus also in early tragedy. So the 
 chorus in Aeschylus' Suppliants (between 500 and 490 B.C.) 
 was made up of the fifty daughters of Danaus. Whether this 
 ^.^<, ^4r•,^^ ^1^^—, -',^^o^x practice or a reversion, on this occasion, to 
 ance of such cOiu^^ cannot now be determined. At least by 
 487 B.C. the ticvgic chorus had been reduced to twelve. It is 
 supposed that this came about as follows: During the fifth 
 century each tragic poet was required to present four plays at a 
 time in the annual competition at the City Dionysia, three 
 tragedies and one satyric drama. This grouping of plays cannot 
 be proven for any poet before Aeschylus (525-456 B.C.) and 
 probably was introduced at a rearrangement of the festival 
 program which took place about 501 B.C. The members of the 
 
 ' In addition to the works mentioned on pp. xvii and xx f ., above, cf. Decharme, 
 Euripides and the Spirit of His Dramas (1892), translated by Loeb (1906); Capps, 
 "The Chorus in the Later Greek Drama," American Journal of Archaeology, X 
 (1895), 287 ff.; Helmreich, Der Chor bei Sophokles mid Euripides (1905); A. Korte, 
 "Das Fortleben des Chors im gr. Drama," N.Jahrb.f. d. kl. Altertum, V (1900), 
 81 ff.; Flickinger, "XOPOT in Terence's Heauton, The Shifting of Choral Roles 
 in Menander, and Agathon's 'EMBOAIMA," Classical Philology, VII (191 2), 
 24 ff.; Stephenson, Some Aspects of the Dramatic Art of Aeschylus (1913); Fries, 
 De Conexu Chori Personae cum Fabulae Actione (1913); Duckett, Studies in Ennius 
 (1915); and Helmreich, Ber Chor im Drama des Aschylus (1915). 
 
 ^ Nevertheless, it has been ignored by certain recent writers on the origin of 
 tragedy, cf. Classical Philology, VIII (1913), 283. 
 
 133
 
 J 
 
 134 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 chorus (the choreutae) must have found it irksome to memorize 
 the words, music, dance steps, and stage business for so many- 
 plays. To relieve this burden Aeschylus or a contemporary- 
 divided the choreutae at his disposal into four groups of twelve 
 each, assigning one group as a chorus for each of his four plays. 
 Whether the dramatist continued to be provided with forty- 
 eight or fifty choreutae or whether, as the role of the chorus lost 
 its bulk and importance, a single group of twelve choreutae 
 appeared in all four pieces is unknown. In the former case, the 
 three groups of choreutae that would normally be idle during any 
 one play could be conveniently employed as a supplementary 
 chorus, mute attendants, etc. But however this may be, twelve r^ 
 was the size of the chorus in the three extant tragedies of Aeschy- 
 lus which followed the Suppliants; and it continued to be such 
 until the middle of the fifth century, when Sophocles raised the 
 number to fifteen.^ This innovation enabled the chorus to enter 
 the orchestra in three files of five men each and to retain this 
 formation for their dance movements. This ga-ctors or ot then 
 than to draw them up, as was previously necesi» or evf \} -'xJlIlSs 
 of six men each or three files of four each. Furthermore, the 
 chorus leader (the coryphaeus) could now stand to one side 
 occasionally without spoiling the symmetry of the two half- 
 choruses, each of which had a sub-leader of its own. Aeschylus 
 probably adopted Sophocles' innovation in the three plays which 
 he brought out in 458 B.C. One of the test passages is Agamem- 
 non, vss. 1344-71, where a single tetrameter line seems to be 
 assigned to each of three choreutae and an iambic couplet to each 
 of the remaining twelve. There is' no reason to believe that the 
 number was altered again for a long time; but further informa- 
 tion of a change is lacking until Roman times — at Cyrene a wall- 
 painting of a tragic chorus represents but seven choreutae. 
 
 It is unlikely that the chorus in the early comus consisted of V 
 any fixed number. Toward the end of the fifth century theV 
 comic chorus contained twenty-four choreutae. Probably this 
 
 ' Whether the satyric chorus was increased at the same time is unknown. In 
 Fig. 4, which represents a satyric drama of about 400 B.C., not more than twelve 
 choreutae are represented.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF CHORAL ORIGIN 13S 
 
 number was chosen at the time that comedy was granted the 
 oflBicial recognition of the state, 486 B.C. If such was the case 
 the comic chorus was just twice as large as the tragic chorus 
 of that period. The reason for doubhng the number is found in 
 the hostihty which frequently rent the chorus of ancient comedy 
 and in the paralleKsm which is an outstanding feature of its 
 choral odes (cf. p. 42, above). About the close of the fourth 
 century, when the functions of the comic chorus had been greatly 
 curtailed, it is likely that its size was also reduced. At any rate, 
 the chorus at the Soteric festival at Delphi from 272 to 269 B.C. 
 contained but seven or eight choreutae and at Delos in the next 
 century only four. 
 
 The chorus of Greek comedy was Protean in the forms that 
 it assumed. In accordance with the animal disguises which were 
 so popular in the early comus (see p. 54, above), we hear of 
 choruses representing wasps, birds, frogs, goats, snakes, bees, gaU- 
 insects, fishes, ants, storks, etc. A suggestion as to the appear- 
 ance of such choruses is afforded by five Attic vase paintings of 
 ca. 540-490 B.C. (Figs. 12-16). Still more fantastic were choruses 
 of clouds, dreams, cities, seasons, islands, laws, ships, sirens, 
 centaurs, sphinxes, dramas, etc. Less grotesque would be 
 choruses of Persians, knights, graces, athletes, poets, etc. These 
 lists convey but a sHght hint of the diversity which the fancy of 
 the poets provided for the choruses of Old and Middle Comedy. 
 The choreutae, of course, were always men, but some or all of 
 them might be dressed to represent women. Thus, the clouds 
 in Aristophanes' play are thought of as women, and in his Frogs 
 the chorus of initiates comprises both men and women. At the 
 beginning of Aristophanes' Women in Council the choreutae are" 
 men dressed to represent women wh6 have tried to disguise 
 themselves as men ! By the time of New Comedy the chorus ha(ij 
 sunk to a position of comparative insignificance and had become 
 more conventional, usually consisting of men engaged in a 
 carousal (kojjuos). In the earliest form of Attic tragedy the 
 chorus was invariably composed of sileni.^ But when its themes 
 
 ' For the differences between sileni and satyrs and for their appearance on the 
 stage, see pp. 24-32.
 
 136 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 were no longer exclusively Dionysiac (see p. 123, above), the 
 choruses became more sedate, generally consisting simply of 
 men or women. In most cases these are citizens of the imagined 
 scene of action. In addition to sex it was customary to indicate 
 whether they were thought of as being young or old. Sometimes 
 they are characterized as foreigners. For example, the scene 
 of Euripides' Phoenician Maids is laid in Thebes; but dress, 
 accent, and the habit of oriental prostration mark the women 
 in the chorus as non-Hellenic. The staid character of tragic 
 choruses is abandoned in the unique furies of Aeschylus' Eumen- 
 ides. According to tradition their black garments, bloody faces, 
 and snaky locks produced so frightful an impression that boys 
 fainted and women miscarried. In satyric drama the chorus 
 always consisted of satyrs (see pp. 125 f., above). 
 
 One of the first problems that confronted the Greek dramatist 
 was the choice of such a character^foX-his- chorus as would make 
 it an integral part of the play's action. The never-changing 
 character of the chorus in the satyr-plays prevented, for the most 
 part, anything but the loosest of connections between chorus 
 and actors there, as we have already noted (pp. 126 f., above). 
 In tragedy the task was somewhat easier, yet still most difficult. 
 In the earHest Greek tragedy extant, Aeschylus' Suppliants, 
 the chorus, the fifty daughters of Danaus who have fled from 
 Egypt to Argos in order to escape marriage with their fifty 
 cousins, are themselves the story. The actors are of secondary 
 importance. From the standpoint of dramatic interest Danaus 
 himself, the king of Argos, and the suitors' herald do not compare 
 with the girls themselves. In the Persians and the Seven against 
 Thebes, Aeschylus has been nearly as successful. In these plays 
 the fate of the chorus, though not the prime object of interest, is 
 almost inextricably bound up with that of the other dramatic 
 characters. In the former the Persian elders, for patriotic as 
 well as personal motives, are no less concerned than the queen 
 mother (Atossa) or King Xerxes himself in the fate of the army 
 invading Greece. Similarly, in the Seven against Thebes the 
 possibility of the city's being captured has as vital a meaning
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF CHORAL ORIGIN 137 
 
 to the chorus of Theban girls as to the others, and frightens them 
 more. Here we find a new note; for whereas in the first part 
 of the play the thought ofVhe danger threatening thenjselves and 
 the city swallows up all else, in the last part their hearts are torn 
 with fear for Eteocles as he fares forth to single combat with his 
 brother. This latter motivation, viz., that the chorus should 
 be moved by a more or less sentimental interest in some actor 
 rather than by a vital fear for itself, or for others and itself, was 
 destined to play a prominent part in the history of the dramatic 
 chorus. It recurs in Aeschylus' Prometheus Bound, Agamemnon, 
 and Libation-Bearers (not to mention the plays of Sophocles and 
 Euripides), in all of which the interest of the chorus in the 
 action is more or less adventitious. Even in such cases, how- 
 ever, it was the practice of Greek playwrights, if possible, to 
 bind the chorus more intimately to the hero in the final catas- 
 trophe. Thus, in Prometheus Bound the daughters of Oceanus, 
 who constitute the chorus, bear no real relationship to the leading 
 character; nevertheless, at the close (vs. 1067) they declare their 
 wish to share his fate, mount the crag where he is fastened, and 
 with him are hurled to Tartarus. A final refinement is found in 
 Aeschylus' Eumenides. Here the chorus of furies, so far from 
 fearing for or sympathizing with one of the characters, is set in 
 deadly opposition to Orestes and is bent upon tracking the 
 guilty man down. Inasmuch as this was the especial duty of 
 , furies the chorus is raised once more to a point of primary impor- 
 tance. Thus it appears that from the standpoint of choral 
 technique Aeschylus' earliest play, the Suppliants, and his last 
 play, the Eumenides, are the most successful. 
 
 In general, the chorus in Sophocles and Euripides is less, 
 intimately related to the plot than in Aeschylus. Yet there are 
 notable exceptions to this statement. Thus, the chorus of 
 Euripides' Suppliants consists of Argive women together with 
 their > andmaids — the mothers of the seven chieftains who fell 
 in the attack upon Thebes. They implore the aid of Theseus 
 to force the Thebans to surrender the bodies of their sons for 
 burial. According to ancient thought this was a matter of
 
 138 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 paramount importance and the whole play is occupied with it. 
 The mothers are in fact the chief personages of the drama; the 
 other characters speak and act only in their behalf. Not even- 
 the Danaids of Aeschylus' Suppliants are more indispensable to 
 the mechanism of the piece. On the other hand, the connection 
 between chorus and plot in Euripides' Phoenician Maids is of 
 the flimsiest. This tragedy deals with the same subject as 
 Aeschylus' Seven against Thebes. But the Aeschylean chorus 
 consists, as we have observed, of Theban girls who are vitally 
 concerned in the outcome of the battle. Euripides' chorus is 
 made up of Tyrian virgins on their way to Delphi. They have 
 no personal interest in the possible capture of Thebes or in the 
 fratricidal strife of Eteocles and Polynices. 
 
 The same sort of thing occurs also in Old Comedy. Dr. Fries 
 {op. cit., p. 35) correctly points out that the knights in Aris- 
 tophanes' play of that name are present rather to listen than to 
 act. In Aristophanes' Clouds and Frogs the connection between 
 chorus and action is of the slightest and entirely artificial. In 
 general it can be said that the character of comic choruses is 
 chosen rather to fit into some fantastic situation, and may be 
 largely ignored toward the end of the play. Thus, in Aristoph- 
 anes' Women at the Thesmophoria the women of Athens assemble 
 to contrive a punishment for Euripides, who has been mahgning 
 their sex. Euripides' father-in-law, made up as a woman, tries 
 to defend him but is detected. During vss. 871-1160 Euripides 
 under various disguises attempts to rescue his relative, but each 
 time is frustrated. But the chorus of Euripides-haters assist 
 in balking him neither by word nor deed. Their original char- 
 acter, if retained throughout these lines, would have too eff(ictu- 
 ally thwarted the humor of his stratagems. 
 
 It is possible, however, to detect more subtle effects in the 
 relations between chorus and actors. Since the chorus is usually 
 friendly to the principal character, the bond of symp. thy is 
 j often strengthened by having the chorus of the same sex and 
 of about the same age as that character. So, in Aeschyivis' 
 Libation-Bearers the choreutae are Trojan slave women who arc 
 
 I
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF CHORAL ORIGIN 139 
 
 cognizant of conditions in the palace and fully share Electra's 
 eagerness to avenge her father's murder. In Sophocles' Maidens 
 * of Trachis the chorus of girls is in thorough accord with the gentle, 
 unsophisticated Deianira. Furthermore, men or older women 
 might have warned ber against sending to her husband a robe 
 dipped in the centaur's blood, an act which is so essential to the 
 plot; but such innocence is made to seem entirely plausible by 
 reason of the youth and inexperience of the chorus. On the 
 contrary, sometimes the run of the plot requires an effect 
 precisely the opposite. In Sophocles' Antigone, for example, the 
 isolation of the heroine is intensified by a chorus, not only of' 
 men but of old men, who would be least sympathetic with her 
 violation of a public edict. In Aeschylus' Prometheus Bound the 
 defiant Titan would have scorned the overtures of a group of men, 
 whoever they might be, but the feminine tact and sympathy of 
 the Oceanides reach his heart at once. Such a chorus, moreover, 
 is an effective foil the better to emphasize the hero's indomitable 
 strength and will-power. In Aeschylus' Persians the chorus of 
 Persian elders is not only natural in itself, but such experienced 
 men's fear for the army and their grief at its misfortunes produce 
 an impression of utter collapse beyond the power of any chorus 
 of women to effect. In Aristophanes' Knights the chorus, in 
 spite of criticisms, was appropriately constituted, since it repre- 
 sented a body of men who are said to have entertained a special 
 grudge against Cleon. It would be easy to extend this topic 
 to a great length. Suffice it to state that both the extant plays 
 and the ancient commentaries upon them^ prove that the Greek 
 poets expended no little thought upon this detail of their 
 dramaturgy. 
 
 Having once selected his chorus, the necessity rested upon 
 the poet of composing choral odes appropriate to the character 
 chosen. In this they were not always successful. In Euripides' 
 Electra the chorus consists of virgins from the Argive countryside, j 
 At vss. 434-78 they give an elaborate description of Achilles'/ 
 
 » Cf. the scholia to Sophocles' Ajax, vs. 134, to Euripides' Phoenician Maids, 
 vs. 202, etc.
 
 I40 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 armor. Such women would have had no opportunity of seeing 
 Achilles at Troy themselves, and hearsay would scarcely have 
 been so circumstantial. Again, in Euripides' Phoenician Maids, 
 vss. 638-75, 801-27, and 1019-67, the Tyrian girls unroll the 
 scroll of Theban history like antiquarians. Their knowledge 
 is not justified by the fact that Thebes had been founded, some 
 five generations before, by a Phoenician prince. Again, in 
 Euripides' Hippolytus, vss. 1 102-19, women of Troezen, the 
 intimates of a local washerwoman (!), discourse upon the conflict 
 between faith and reaHty ! Still again, in Euripides' Iphigenia at 
 Aulis, vss. 794-800, a band of unassuming women from Chalcis 
 throw doubt upon the mythological tradition that Zeus had 
 appeared unto Leda in the form of a swan. The first two 
 examples are somewhat different from the last two. The former 
 arise simply from failure to find a satisfactory solution for the 
 problem under consideration. But the latter reveal the poet 
 dropping his mask and using the chorus as a mouthpiece for his 
 own philosophizing and skepticism. 
 
 Lest anyone suppose that I exaggerate the difficulty or 
 attribute to Greek playwrights a perplexity which they did not 
 experience, let me point out the confessed failure of a modern 
 poet. Concerning the close of Act III in the second part of 
 Faust, Goethe said: "You have observed the character of the 
 chorus is quite destroyed by the mourning song : until this time 
 it has remained thoroughly antique, or has never belied its girlish 
 nature; but here of a sudden it becomes nobly reflecting, and 
 says things such as it has never thought or could think." And 
 to this Eckermann, uncontradicted, repHed: "These httle 
 inconsistencies are of no consequence, if by their means a higher 
 degree of beauty is obtained. The song had to be sung, somehow 
 or other; and as there was no other chorus present, the girls 
 were forced to sing it."^ ;^That Euripides was equally conscious 
 of what he was doing is proven by the fact that in some cases he 
 makes only too patent an attempt to gloss over the difficulty. 
 Thus, he makes the chorus in the Electra explain that they had 
 
 * Conversations with Eckermann, July 5, 1827 (Oxenford's translation).
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF CHORAL ORIGIN 141 
 
 heard of Achilles' shield in the nearby harbor of Naupha "from 
 one who had fared from Troy" (vss. 452-55); and the Tyrian 
 maidens justify their knowledge of Theban history by saying that 
 they "had received an account at home in an alien tongue" 
 {Phoenician Maids, vs. 819). A curious self-consciousness seems 
 to obsess dramatic poets and force them to call to the hearer's 
 attention the very difficulty that they are striving to avoid. 
 Like some scientists who think they have explained a phenom- 
 enon if they have provided a name for it, playwrights sometimes 
 act as if they had justified an incongruity if they mention it. An 
 excellent modern illustration of this occurs in Twelfth Night, II, 5. 
 In order to extract the full humor from the scene it is necessary 
 that Malvolio read aloud the forged letter which he has just 
 found. Therefore, Shakespeare makes Sir Toby say : " The spirit 
 of humours intimate reading aloud to him! " Since these words 
 are uttered in an aside, they can have no real effect. Neverthe- 
 less, the dramatist eased his conscience by inserting them. 
 
 Sometimes the difficulty of finding motifs suitable for the 
 role of the chorus caused the playwrights to introduce a second 
 chorus of a different type. Phrynichus seems to have done this 
 in 476 B.C., bringing on a chorus of elders as well as one of 
 Phoenician women.^ Likewise, in Euripides' Hippolytus that 
 hero's comrades in the chase appear and sing a short ode (vss. 
 61-72) before the arrival of the regular chorus. Several other 
 instances are known of in Euripides' lost plays. In Seneca's 
 Agamemnon there is a chorus of Mycenaean women and another 
 of Trojan captives. In the same writer's Hercules on Mt. Oeta, 
 Dr. Fries (op. cit., p. 49) maintains that three choruses are 
 introduced, one of Oechalian captives at vs. 104, another of 
 Deianira's companions at vs. 583, and a third of Hercules' 
 comrades at vs. 103 1. The same sort of thing occurs also in 
 comedy. Thus, from Terence's Self -Tormentor, which is a Latin 
 translation of Menander's play of the same name, it would 
 appear that in the Greek original a chorus of banqueting com- 
 panions performed at vs. 171 and another chorus of maidservants 
 
 ' Cf. Graeber, De Poetarum Atticorum Arte Scaenica (1911), pp. 56 ff.
 
 142 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 at vss. 409 and 748.' Occasionally, before making its appear- 
 ance, the chorus sings, from behind the scenes, in a different 
 character from that which it later assumes. Aristophanes' 
 Frogs, for example, derives its name from a chorus which never 
 is seen. At vs. 209 the chorus, from behind the scenes, deHvers 
 a batrachian strain as an accompaniment to Dionysus and 
 Charon when they row across the subterranean lake (see p. 90, 
 above). It is not until after vs. 315 that this chorus actually 
 appears and reveals its true character, that of men and women 
 who had, when on earth, been initiated into the mysteries. This 
 method of procedure gained one of two results — it obviated the 
 necessity either of a lightning change of costume on the part of 
 the chorus or that of hiring extra choreutae. As to the latter 
 alternative, whatever may have been true of the tragic poets 
 (see p. 134, above), there is no reason to suppose that the comic 
 poets always had spare choreutae at their disposal. 
 >^ But not only should choral odes be appropriate to the dra- 
 matic character of the chorus; they ought also to .be closely 
 connected with the theme of the play. And this requirement is 
 no less difficult than the other. The ode on the inventive spirit 
 of man in Sophocles' Antigone, vss. 334-75, is so vague that an 
 audience might well be in doubt as to which one of the dramatic 
 characters it was intended for. Verses 11 15-52 in the same 
 play, a hymn to Dionysus, is quite irrelevant, except in so far 
 as that divinity was the patron of the dramatic festival. Other 
 instances are found in Euripides. Verses 1301-68 of Helen deal 
 with Demeter's search for her lost daughter and are so alien to 
 the subject of the tragedy that many have considered them an 
 interpolation. An adventitious connection is sought, at the 
 close, by the suggestion that Helen's misfortunes are due to her 
 neglect of Demeter's worship (vss. 1355-57). Again, the chorus' 
 eulogy of Apollo in Iphigenia among the Taurians, vss. 1234-83, 
 is so disconnected with the story that Professor Decharme 
 {op. cit., pp. 312 f.) could defend it only by saying: "If, there- 
 fore, the chorus wishes not to rouse the suspicion of Thoas, it 
 
 ' Cf. Flickinger, op. cit., pp. 28 ff.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF CHORAL ORIGIN 143 
 
 must speak of something else than that which really engrosses its 
 attention. Hence the eulogy of Apollo that compromises nobody, 
 whose purport Thoas would not understand were he to appear 
 suddenly, but which the spectator comprehends, provided he re- 
 flects." The description of Achilles' armor in Euripides' Electra, 
 vss. 434-78, has already been mentioned (pp. 139 f., above). 
 It is as Httle connected with the plot as it is appropriate to the 
 chorus of that play. Nevertheless, Euripides brought the ode 
 back to the theme with a jerk by saying: "The lord of such 
 warriors didst thou slay, O Clytemnestra" (vss. 479 f.). There 
 are but two things that can be said to palliate this offense. The 
 first is to indicate the difficulty of the problem; the other, to 
 point out that the ingenuity of the ancient playwrights fell short 
 in only a few plays and seldom more than once in any one piece, 
 There are certain ways, however, in which the lack of anl 
 organic relationship between chorus and actors or the failure of' 
 the odes to spring naturally from the dramatic situation may be 
 compensated for or glossed over. One is by giving the choreutae 
 an active participation in the action. The scene of Euripides' 
 Helen is laid in Egypt and the chorus consists of Greek slaves, 
 who assist the heroine in her deception mainly because she is 
 a fellow-Greek and her victim a barbarian. Their connection, 
 therefore, is only moderately close and, as we have seen (p. 142, 
 above) , one of their odes is by some considered an interpolation. 
 Yet, apart from their choral songs, they take an active and 
 important part in the play. It is they who persuade Helen not 
 to believe Teucer's announcement of her husband's death but .to 
 consult the seeress Theonoe concerning the matter (vss. 306 and 
 317). Again, it is they who, when the Egyptian king avows his 
 intention of murdering Theonoe for abetting his decievers, grasp 
 his garments and declare: "We are your slaves and you can slay 
 us, but slay us you must ere you can kill Theonoe" (vss. 1629 ff.). 
 1^ Similarly, in Euripides' Orestes the chorus of Argive women is 
 ( friendly toward Electra and her brother but does not share the 
 xianger which threatens them. Yet when Helen is being mur- 
 dered betind the scenes, at Electra's request, in order to guard
 
 144 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 against surprise, it divides into semi-choruses, which picket the 
 two roads leading before the palace (vss. 1251 ff). A little later 
 they attempt to make noise enough to prevent the tumult from 
 within the palace attracting the notice of the Argive citizens 
 (vss. 1353 f!.) . Thus, a chorus may actively participate in a plot 
 to which it is but loosely joined'. In fact, Professor Capps has 
 boldly declared : " In every play whose chorus has been criticized 
 for the irrelevancy of its songs, whether the criticisms have been 
 just or not, are found indications of direct participation in the 
 action" {op. cit., p. 295). 
 
 In this connection certain words of Aristotle* are usually 
 cited: "The chorus ought to be regarded as one of the actors; 
 it oughrtoTe an integral part of the whole and take a'sKare in 
 the acTion, in the manner, not of Euripides but of Sophocles. 
 The choral songs of the successors of Euripides acidL Sophocles 
 have no more to do with the subject of the piece than with that 
 of some other tragedy. They are therefore sung as mere inter- 
 calary numbers (ejUj^oXtiua) , a practice first begun bj Agalhon. 
 "TTet this is no more justifiable than to transfer a speech or a 
 "whole act from one tragedy to another." Aristotle's praise of 
 Sophocles at the expense of Euripides probably refers to the 
 choice and setting of Sophoclean choruses and to the relevancy of 
 their songs — ^points in which Sophocles usually surpassed his 
 rival. Aristotle failed to notice or did not value the other 
 characteristic of Euripidean choruses, viz., that they have more 
 effect upon the plot and come into more direct contact with the 
 actors, that is to say, that they really "act" more, than is the 
 case in Sophocles. In fact, it is Sophocles' use of the chorus 
 which is mainly responsible for the modern notion that the Greek 
 chorus was merely the "ideal spectator." - 
 
 The precise meaning of the latter part of this passage from 
 the Poetics has not until recently become clear. It is evident 
 that Aristotle brings the same charge, that of irrelevancy, against 
 the choruses of both Euripides and Agathon. But if the differ- 
 ence between them were merely one of degree, he would hardly 
 
 ' Cf. Aristotle's Poetics, 1456026 ff.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF CHORAL ORIGIN 145 
 
 have said that Agathon "began" a practice which he had really 
 borrowed from Euripides and only "developed" or "extended." 
 Therefore, Aristotle must mean that Agathon was guilty of a 
 different kind of irrelevancy than Euripides, and we are now in a 
 position to see whereof this consisted. Recently discovered 
 fragments of Menander show that often in New Comedy the 
 chorus did not appear in the course of the action at all, but only 
 between acts, and that the poets did not write down the words of 
 these entr'actes but simply indicated where they should come by 
 writing the word XOPOT ("of the chorus") at the places 
 required. To the stage manager XOPOT in the manuscript 
 would be simply a hint to use anything he chose or to refer to 
 the poet or that he could rely upon the latter to provide the 
 choreutae with a libretto, according to whatever arrangement 
 they had between them on the subject. To the reader it was 
 convenient, as marking off the divisions of the play. A parallel 
 to this custom is found in Greene's James the Fourth, where at 
 the beginning of Act IV the stage directions read "Enter certain 
 huntsmen (if you please, singing), " and again at the close of the 
 same act, "Enter a round, or some dance at pleasure." A 
 passage in the ancient Life of Aristophanes had already mentioned 
 this practice of the writers of New Comedy but had received 
 scant consideration until substantiated by the Menander frag- 
 ments. 
 
 Now, since e mbolimo p means "something thrown in," it 
 seems clear that the songs of the chorus in the intermissions 
 marked by XOPOT (if songs not recorded in the text were sung) 
 would be embolima in Aristotle's use of the term. I believe 
 that this was the innovation which Agathon introduced. This 
 conclusion will be strengthened if we ask ourselves what sort of 
 evidence enabled Aristotle to attribute the invention of embolima 
 to Agathon. It is fairly certain that he never saw one of Aga- 
 thon's tragedies actually performed in the theater. Then his 
 knowledge of Agathon's dramatic art must have depended upon 
 the latter's pubHshed works. Therefore, if Agathon's choral 
 numbers were notable rather for the music than for the libretto,
 
 146 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 or consisted of music and dancing without words, or were bor- 
 rowed from other poets, or if for any reason whatsoever Agathon 
 preferred not to copy them down with the rest of the text, but 
 merely to mark their location by XOPOT or some other symbol, 
 then we can understand how Aristotle could know that Agathon 
 had inaugurated something new in dramatic technique. What- 
 ever their defects of irrelevancy, Euripides' odes were not 
 "thrown in" in this sense; they were right there in the text. 
 But in Agathon's manuscripts, on the other hand, there were 
 gaps indicated between acts. In actual performance suitable 
 odes were ''thrown in." A "thrown-in" ode then would 
 be one not appearing in the text. It is self-evident that this 
 interpretation throws a flood of light upon Aristotle's state- 
 ments. 
 
 That XOPOT was so used in tragedy prior to the time of 
 New Comedy is attested by its occurrence in a recent fragment 
 of a fourth-century MedeaJ- Moreover, by inference its use 
 can be safely traced still further back, even close to the period 
 of Agathon. We have seen that tragedy exercised a profound 
 influence upon Old Comedy (see pp. 49 f., above) ; and Professor 
 Navarre^ has correctly pointed out that the influence of tragedy 
 was more quickly and strongly felt in the second half of a comedy 
 (that after the parabasis or, when that is lacking, after the agon; 
 see p. 41 5 above). Accordingly a strong reason for believing 
 that this use of XOPOT originated in tragedy is found in the 
 fact that XOPOT occurs in this part of Aristophanes' last two 
 (extant) comedies; cf. Women in Cowicil, vss. 729 and 876 
 (393-392 B.C.), and Plutus, vs. 770 (388 B.C.). It is significant 
 that Aristophanes' use of embolima is still embryonic, has not 
 yet been carried to the logical issue found in New Comedy. 
 That is to say, the chorus of these two plays still figures in the 
 action and converses with the actors. In the Women in Council 
 it even has, in addition to embolima, several choral songs, the 
 words of which are preserved. The fragments of the fourth- 
 
 ' Cf. PMlologus, LXX (1911), 497 f, 
 
 ' Cf. Revue des 6,tudes anciennes, XIII (191 1), 273.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF CHORAL ORIGIN 147 
 
 century Medea, scanty as they are, nevertheless suffice to indicate 
 that its author employed embolima and the chorus in the same 
 fashion as Aristophanes. 
 
 But by the time of New Comedy a great change had taken 
 place. In comedies of this period, or at least in many of them, 
 the chorus appeared only to furnish entertainment between acts, 
 withdrawing again at the end of its performance. It bore no 
 speaking part and from the nature of the case could exercise 
 no influence upon the plot. Occasionally it was brought into 
 formal relationship with one of the actors. For example, in 
 Menander's Girl with the Shorn Locks the chorus seems to consist 
 of Polemon's boon companions, who took breakfast with him in 
 the country and have now come to his house in the city to be on 
 hand for the dinner in the evening. This is the most frequent 
 type of chorus in New Comedy. The approach of these inter- 
 mezzic choruses is often mentioned by the actors who thus 
 motivate their own withdrawal from the scene during the choral 
 entr^acte. For instance, in one case^ XOPOT is prefaced by 
 one character remarking to another: "Let us withdraw into 
 Charisius' home, for a throng of tipsy youths is approaching 
 whom it is inadvisable to provoke." Such an introduction 
 occurs also in a fragment of Alexis, a poet of Middle Comedy,^ 
 but the quotation is not long enough to determine whether 
 Alexis resembled Aristophanes or the New Comedy in his use of 
 embolima and of the chorus. Racine's Athalie, which has been 
 pronounced^ the "one thoroughly satisfactory choric drama" that 
 modern art has produced, presents several points of Hkeness to 
 the later Greek chorus. The Levite maidens do not appear until 
 just before the close of the first act and are withdrawn several 
 times subsequently, being thus absent from the scene during long 
 stretches of the dialogue. Their entrances, also, are sometimes 
 alluded to by the actors. Their songs, however, are not em- 
 bolima, but constituent parts of the text. 
 
 ' In the Jernstedt fragment; cf. Capps, Four Plays of Menander, pp. 98 f. 
 ' Cf. Kock, Comicorum Atticorum Fragmenta, II, ^2>2> f-> fr. 107. 
 3 Cf. Verrall, Euripides the Rationalist, p. 219, note.
 
 148 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 We have seen that with reference to the plot these intermezzic 
 choruses of New Comedy are irrelevant. At times they must 
 even have been disconcerting. Notwithstanding, in the light 
 of modern dramatic theory they are not utterly defenseless. 
 The principle is the same as that which is used to justify inter- 
 missions between acts. "It would be no gain but a loss, if a 
 whole two hours' or three hours' action could be carried through 
 in one continuous movement, with no relaxation of the strain 
 upon the attention of the audience, and without a single point 
 at which the spectator might review what was past and anticipate 
 what was to come. The act division positively enhances the 
 amount of pleasurable emotion through which the audience 
 passes."^ 
 
 A word of caution is necessary. We have seen that the use 
 of embolima and of the sign XOPOT to indicate their position 
 in the play originated in fifth-century tragedy (Agathon), that 
 an actual instance of XOPOT in a fourth-century tragedy is 
 preserved, and that Aristophanes brought this tragic innovation 
 over into comedy, where it was greatly extended. Now despite 
 the fourth-century Medea there is good reason for believing that 
 this practice never had the vogue in later tragedy that it had in 
 later comedy. The Rhesus has erroneously come down to us 
 under the name of Euripides, but is generally regarded by 
 scholars as the product of some fourth-century writer, the only 
 complete tragedy of that century which is extant. It contains 
 no embolima and is a natural continuation of the tradition of 
 Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides. The chorus is made up 
 of the night watch in the Trojan camp. They go to Hector's 
 tent and rouse him with the news that the Greek host is on the 
 move. They take part in the dialogue, almost capture Odysseus, 
 who has entered the camp as a spy, have a keen personal interest 
 in the proceedings, and sing choral odes which, though short, are 
 apposite. It is indisputable that from the beginnings of tragedy ^ 
 to the end the role and importance of the chorus steadily declined^ 
 but there is no reason to suppose that it ever fell so low as was 
 
 ' Cf. Archer, Play-making, p. 142.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF CHORAL ORIGIN 149 
 
 the case in New Comedy. This conclusion is confirmed by 
 Seneca's Latin tragedies and by the fragments of earher Roman 
 tragedies. In the fragments of Ennius, Pacuvius, and Accius 
 the chorus is shown to be connected, sometimes even intimately 
 connected, with the plot and some of the characters. It still 
 conversed with the actors and its odes were not embolima, but 
 actually written in the text. There are only two signs of a 
 choral decHne. In the first place the odes are no longer char- 
 acterized by the elaborate strophic responsion which was seldom 
 lacking in the choral songs of fifth-century tragedy in Athens. 
 This doubtless means that the chorus no longer engaged in the 
 complicated, carefully balanced evolutions which had once 
 carried the choreutae over the broad expanse of the Greek 
 orchestra, but sang and danced without moving about so much 
 or occupying so much space. In the second place there is no 
 evidence that the chorus and actors were brought into actual 
 physical contact so frequently as in the fifth-century drama (see 
 p. 88, above). Of course, these changes were not due to physical 
 conditions, since in the Roman theaters actors and chorus per- 
 formed together on a broad, low stage (see p. 78, above). The 
 Romans seem to have had less appreciation for choral perform- 
 ances than the Greeks, and the chorus in contemporary Greek 
 tragedy ought to be thought of as playing even a larger part than 
 appears from the fragments of Roman tragedy. 
 
 The difference between tragedy and comedy in their treat- 
 ment of the chorus arises from the innermost nature of each, 
 as has been well stated by Mr. Cornford: "The comic chorus^ 
 has not, from the standpoint of art, the justification and utiht3m) i 
 which kept the chorus alive in tragedy to the last days of ancient \ x^ 
 
 drama. ^ In tragedy it is needed for a high function, not to be so 
 
 well fulfilleS^ any other means. It has to utter emotions that 
 
 "TSnTbe e:^fessed only in lyric poetry, to say things which the 
 
 audience longs to have said, but which cannot be said by any 
 
 Character on the stage Their function, too, is integral 
 
 and need never decay ..■^ Nothing of this applies to the comic 
 chorus'. The audience here can completely reheve their feelings 
 
 { 
 
 I
 
 I50 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 in laughter; there are no thoughts or emotions stirred that lie 
 too deep for stage dialogue, no remoter universal meaning to be 
 caught only in the passionate images of lyric poetry."' 
 
 Playwrights experience considerable difficulty in plausibly 
 motivating the entrances of their characters, and this was a more 
 troublesome problem in ancient times than it is today. I shall 
 revert to the matter later in connection with the actors (see 
 pp. 229 f. and 239, below), but I wish to touch upon it now as 
 regards the chorus. Of course the chorus was so inevitably 
 present in every Greek drama that it might be thought needless 
 to account for its presence at all. As Richter^ said: "The 
 chorus in Attic tragedy is so firmly estabUshed, so much a matter 
 of course, that its entrance does not need to be motivated." 
 Accordingly, in Aeschylus' Suppliants, Sophocles' Philoctetes, 
 etc., the choral entrance is unmotived. In the Suppliants, 
 however, the audience scarcely required to be explicitly told 
 that the sacred precinct with its altars, which is what the 
 orchestra represents in this play, was a natural place of retreat 
 for refugees. Likewise it is quite unnecessary for Neoptolemus' 
 sailors, in the Philoctetes, to give an excuse for following their 
 prince and captain ashore. On the contrary, in Aeschylus' 
 Persians there is no self-evident reason why the Persian elders 
 should go to the tomb of Darius or why Atossa should expect to 
 meet them there rather than at the palace or the council cham- 
 ber, and Aeschylus apparently felt no necessity of inventing a 
 pretext. Nevertheless, in most instances the Greek playwrights 
 did motivate their choral entrances. In Aeschylus' Seven 
 against Thebes the chorus of maidens, through fear of the invading 
 host, has fled for protection to the images of the gods on the 
 acropolis (vss. 214 and 240). In Aeschylus' Prometheus Bound 
 the ocean nymphs have been drawn to the hero's side by the 
 sound of the shackles being bolted upon him (vss. 133 f.). In 
 the same writer's Libation-Bearers the maidservants are sent 
 from the palace with offerings for the grave of Agamemnon 
 
 ' Cf. The Origin of Attic Comedy, p. 107. 
 
 • Cf. Zur Dramaturgie des Aschylus (1892), p. 135.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF CHORAL ORIGIN 151 
 
 (vss. 22 f.). In his Eumenides the furies sing their first song 
 behind the scenes within the temple at Delphi, where they have 
 been besetting the guilty Orestes; presently Apollo drives them 
 from his sanctuary into the orchestra (vss. 179 ff,). Often the 
 chorus enters in response to the cries of the tragic heroine,* or as 
 the bearer of news,^ or as the result of hearing a rumor ;3 still 
 more often in reply to a summons.'' "After going through some 
 years of Dionysia it must have been hard not to smile, when the 
 'shrieks' were raised or the 'proclamation' issued."^ In Aeschy- 
 lus' Eumenides, vs. 244, Sophocles' Oedipus at Colonus, vss. 
 117 ff., and Aristophanes' Acharnians, vss. 280 ff., the chorus 
 comes upon the stage on the track of a transgressor. Occasion- 
 ally the pretext is extremely trivial, far-fetched, or improbable. 
 In Euripides' Ion, vss. 234 f., Creusa's handmaidens have 
 obtained their mistress' permission to view the sights at Delphi. 
 The chorus in Euripides' Phoenician Maids, vss. 202 £f., are on 
 their way from Tyre to Delphi to be consecrated to Apollo's serv- 
 ice as a thank-offering and chance to be caught in Thebes at the 
 time of the country's invasion. In Euripides' Iphigenia at Aulis, / 
 vss. 164 ff. and 187 f., Chalcidian women are constrained by curi-/ 
 osity to cross the strait and blushingly visit the Greek camp. 
 In Euripides' Electra, vss. 168 ff., the choreutae come to invite 
 Electra to participate with them in an Argive festival in honor 
 of Hera, and when the princess replies that she has "nothing to 
 wear," generously offer to lend her raiment from their store! \ 
 Nothing more is heard of this motive during the remainder of 
 the play. Finally, the same heroine in Sophocles' Electra inti- 
 mates that the women of the chorus have come to soothe her 
 woes (vss. 129 f.). Now when Aegisthus was home Electra was 
 
 ' Cf. Euripides' Helen, vs. 184, and Medea, vss. 131 5. 
 
 ' Cf. Euripides' Hecabe, vs. 105, and Electra, vss. 168 ff. 
 
 3 Cf. Sophocles' Maidens of Trachis, vs. 103, and Ajax, vs. 143, Euripides' 
 Hippolytus, vss. 1295., etc. 
 
 * Cf. Sophocles' Oedipus the King, vs. 144, and Antigone, vss. 164 f., Euripides' 
 Trojan Women, vss. 143-45, Aristophanes' Clouds, vs. 269, Peace, vss. 2962., 
 Birds, vss. 310 f., and Plutus, vs. 255, etc. 
 
 5 Cf. Verrall's edition of Euripides' Ion (1890), p. Ix.
 
 152 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 never permitted to leave the palace (cf. vss. 516 ff.)- It is only 
 the accident of his absence which allowed her to pass the doors 
 on this occasion. But the choreutae were unaware of his 
 absence (vss. 310 ff.). What reason, then, could they have had 
 to expect that they would be able to meet Electra outside the 
 house and comfort her ? Sophocles supplies no answer to this 
 question. KaibeP seems entirely justified in writing: "Ihr 
 Kommen ist durch nichts motivirt als dadurch, dass ein Chor 
 nothwendig ist." 
 f The history and traditions of the Greek theater required a 
 
 chorus to appear in each drama. But they also required it to 
 render several songs at intervals throughout the play. If we 
 stop to analyze this convention it will surely appear ridiculous 
 enough. How absurd that the subjects and well-wishers of 
 kings and princes should resort to singing and dancing at the 
 crises of their royal fortunes! ) Dennis' sought a reductio ad 
 ahsurdum in the dramatization, a la grecque, of the Spanish 
 invasion: "Suppose, then, that an express gives notice to Queen 
 Elizabeth of the landing of the Spaniards upon our coast, and 
 of great number of subjects revolting and running in to them. 
 The Queen, upon the reception of this news, falls a lamenting her 
 
 condition But then, Sir, suppose as soon as the Queen 
 
 has left off lamenting, the ladies about her, in their ruffs and 
 farthingalls, fell a dancing a Saraband to a doleful ditty. Do you 
 think. Sir, that if this had really happened at White-Hall, it 
 would have been possible to have beheld it without laughing, 
 though one had been never so much concerned for his country ? " 
 Nevertheless, despite the incongruity, these odes were so much \i 
 a matter of course that usually not even a motivation was 
 provided for them. Occasionally, however, this was done. 
 For example, in Euripides' Alcestis, vss. 423 f., Admetus invites '^ 
 the chorus to "chant an antiphonal strain to the implacable god 
 below," and to the balanced strophe and antistrophe of their song 
 (vss. 435-76) the remains of his wife are borne into the palace. 
 
 ' Cf. p. 89 of his edition (1896). 
 
 ' Cf. John Dennis, The Impartial Critick (1693).
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF CHORAL ORIGIN !$$ 
 
 In Aeschylus' Eiimenides the furies have tracked Orestes from '^^ 
 Delphi to Athens and at last have overtaken him. But since he 
 has invoked Athena's protection and is clasping her image, they . 
 cannot lay hands upon him. Therefore, they resort to a magic 
 incantation to prevent his escaping them again: at vs. 306 they 
 announce "you shall hear this spell to bind you," referring to 
 and motivating the long ode (vss. 307-96) which follows. 
 Again, in Euripides' Cyclops, Odysseus asks the chorus to accom- 
 pany him and his comrades with a song of good cheer (see below). 
 Sometimes the noise of fifteen lusty choreutae lifting their 
 voices in united song sadly interferes with the verisimilitude of 
 the scene, especially when the dramatic situation imperatively 
 demands silence. The stricken Orestes, in Euripides' play of 
 that name, has at last fallen asleep, guarded by his devoted sister. 
 Enter the chorus to inquire of his condition. Electra groans as 
 she catches sight of them, well assured that they will waken 
 Orestes (vss. 131 ff.). She begs them to be quiet, to stand far 
 away from his bed, to drop their voices still lower. She inquires 
 why they have come ; warns them that they will be the death of 
 him if they rouse him ; beseeches them to depart, to cease their 
 chanting. It is all in vain. The chorus enjoin quiet, declare 
 that they are obeying her biddings, protest that their singing is 
 but a murmur, invoke winged night to come upon him, etc. 
 They needs must enter and needs must carry their part of the 
 lyric dialogue with Electra, until finally (vs. 211) her fears are 
 realized and Orestes' slumber is broken. Similarly, in Sophocles' 
 Philoctetes, Neoptolemus suggests that they give Philoctetes an 
 opportunity to sleep. But the chorus sings an invocation to 
 slumber, which under like circumstances in real hfe could hardly 
 have had a very soporific effect. Nevertheless, Philoctetes 
 succumbs to it; whereupon the chorus advise Neoptolemus to 
 execute his sinister designs, circumspectly enjoining that his reply 
 to them should be couched in whispered tones! An especially 
 striking instance occurs in Euripides' Cyclops. At vs. 601 
 Polyphemus, well filled with powerful wine, has just entered his 
 cave; Odysseus prays that the liquor will close the monster's
 
 154 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 eyelids in sleep and follows him in. It is not a moment suitable 
 for any unnecessary noise, such as might tend to keep the 
 Cyclops awake. But the satyrs, being alone upon the stage, 
 have no option but to chant an ode (vss. 608-23). At its 
 conclusion Odysseus rushes in with an expostulation: 
 
 Hush, you wild things, for Heaven's sake!— still as death! 
 
 Shut your lips tight together!— not a breath! 
 
 Don't wink, don't cough, for fear the beast should wake 
 
 Ere we twist out his eye with that red stake. [Way's translation] 
 
 Yet it is a foregone conclusion that as soon as he leaves the stage 
 they will be at it once more. How can this difficulty be glossed 
 over ? The poet makes two suggestions. Odysseus wishes the 
 satyrs to pass in and help gouge out the Cyclops' eye, but that, 
 of course, was theatrically impossible; they prefer to sing an 
 incantation which will plunge the firebrand, of its own accord, 
 into their victim's brain (vss. 648 ff.). We have just seen that 
 magic as a motive passed muster with Aeschylus, but it was 
 different with Euripides. Odysseus indignantly ignores their 
 offer, and after a few words of reproach he actually requests them 
 to cheer on himself and his comrades at their dangerous task 
 (vs. 653). A choral song in this tenor immediately follows 
 (vss. 655-62). Thus, within the space of thirty lines, with no 
 essential change in the situation, Odysseus first commands the 
 chorus to be quiet and then urges them to sing 1 
 
 The history and traditions of the Greek theater, the necessity 
 of delivering songs at frequent intervals, and the difficulty of 
 motivating the withdrawal of the chorus and its later return to 
 the scene almost demanded the uninterrupted presence of the 
 chorus upon the stage. The some half-dozen exceptions that 
 are known to us outside of New Comedy will be discussed later 
 (see pp. 250 f., below). How unnatural this convention would 
 be can be reaUzed from Euripides' Bacchanals, in which Pentheus 
 arrested Dionysus and took .active measures against the Bac- 
 chantes upon Mt. Cithaeron and yet allowed a chorus of the 
 new god's devotees (and foreigners at that) to remain practically 
 unmolested before his palace throughout the play. What a
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF CHORAL ORIGIN 155 
 
 baneful effect so rigid and arbitrary a rule had upon any compli- 
 cation of plot can readily be imagined. The situation was racily 
 described by Gray :^ "How could Macbeth and his wife have laid 
 the design for Duncan's murder ? What could they have said 
 to each other in the hall at midnight, not only if a chorus, but 
 if a single mouse, had been stirring there ? Could Hamlet have 
 met the ghost, or taken his mother to task in their company ? 
 If Othello had said a harsh word to his wife before them, would 
 they not have danced to the window and called the watch?" 
 In the Agamemnon, Clytemnestra had to address to her returning'^ 
 lord words of loyal greeting the falsity of which she knew the 
 chorus was well aware of. Aeschylus strove to surmount the 
 difficulty by having the queen turn first to the choreutae: 
 "Reverend citizens of Argos, I feel no shame to mention my 
 husband-loving ways before you, for as we mortals grow older 
 we lose such blushing fear" (vss. 8555.), We are to suppose 
 that her effrontery in this and other respects intimidated the 
 meticulous elders and prevented their denouncing her to Aga- 
 memnon. In Sophocles' Oedipus the King, Creon is bringing an 
 oracular response from Delphi and meets the king before the 
 Theban palace. In reply to Oedipus' eager question he lets his 
 eyes rest on the choreutae for a moment and says : "If you would 
 hear while these are near, I am ready to speak; or else to go 
 within." In real life the second alternative probably would have 
 been adopted; on the Greek stage it was impossible (cf .pp. 237-41, 
 below) . Accordingly, Oedipus makes answer as follows : " Speak 
 before all, for I bear more sorrow for these than for my own life" 
 (vss. 91-94). In Sophocles' Electra, Orestes discovers himself 
 and his design to his sister in the presence of the chorus, "so 
 that he entrusts a secret, upon which his empire and life depends, 
 in the hands of sixteen women. "^ The implication is that a body 
 of women cannot keep a secret under any circumstances. Yet 
 Sophocles has done what he could. At vs. 1202 Orestes' iden- 
 tity is not yet revealed, but his sympathy has begun to make 
 
 ' Cf . Tovey, Letters of Thomas Gray, II, 293 f . 
 ' Cf. Dennis, op. cil.
 
 156 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 Electra suspicious. She inquires : " Can it be that you are some 
 unknown kinsman ? " And when Orestes, glancing at the chorus, 
 replies: "I would answer, if these as friends were present," 
 she reassures him by saying: "But they are friends, so that you 
 can speak without mistrust." This device was borrowed by 
 Euripides in his Orestes, vss. 1103 f. Pylades says: "Silence 
 now, for I put small trust in women," meaning the chorus; but 
 Orestes replies: "Fear not, for these are friends to us." 
 
 In general, the constant presence of the chorus bore..mDre~\ | 
 heavily i^n Euripides than upon either Aeschylus or S ophocle s./ 1 
 since his plots were more compHcated than theirs. Usually 
 the Euripidean choruses are bound to secrecy by an oath or 
 promise. But this is only to shift the problem, not to solve it. 
 In real life groups of people do not take such oaths without an 
 adequate reason. In his Hippolytus, vss. 710-14, the chorus 
 swear by Artemis to conceal their knowledge of Phaedra's guilt, 
 and they remain true to their oath, though by their so doing the 
 innocent Hippolytus is brought to ruin and death before their 
 eyes. But their willingness to take such an oath is without 
 motive except as one is impKed in their kindly feeling toward the 
 heroine. In Euripides' Iphigenia among the Taurians and Helen 
 the choruses consist of Greek slaves, who would naturally, be- 
 cause of racial ties, plot against their barbarian masters in order 
 to help their fellow-countrywomen. Other reasons, however, are 
 cited. In both plays the actors promise to rescue the chorus as 
 well as themselves (vss. 1067 f, and 1387 ff., respectively). In 
 the Iphigenia an additional motive for choral secrecy is found in 
 an appeal to sex loyalty: "We are women," says Iphigenia, 
 "a sex most staunch to one another, most trustworthy in keeping 
 common counsel" (vss. 106 1 f.). The same plea recurs, in an 
 intensified form, in Euripides' Medea. Theatrical conditions 
 compelled Medea to take the chorus into her confidence, and she 
 bases her request for their silence not only upon the ground of 
 their common womanhood but also upon the fact that she is 
 alone, sadly wronged, and in distress (vss. 230-66). But this 
 chorus consists of Corinthian women in whose sight Medea must
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF CHORAL ORIGIN 157 
 
 be a foreigner, nay worse, a barbarian. It is so utterly improb- 
 able that womanly sympathy should cause Greek women to 
 acquiesce in a barbarian's plans for the assassination of their 
 sovereign and his daughter that Professor VerralP supposed a 
 chorus to have been mechanically added in a subsequent revision 
 (our present text) to a play originally written for private pres- 
 entation without a chorus. On the other hand, the chorus are 
 occasionally permitted to act as real people would and com- 
 municate their secret. Thus, in Euripides' Ion, vss. 666 f., 
 Xuthus threatens his wife's handmaidens with death if they 
 betray to her the supposed fact that Ion is his son. Neverthe- 
 less, this is exactly what they do, declaring to her: **It shall be 
 told, though I die twice over" (vs. 760) ; and thus they precipi- 
 tate one of the most thrilling scenes in Greek tragedy. This 
 is a characteristic product of Greek dexterity. Not content 
 to surmount a troublesome obstacle, they actually derive an 
 advantage from it. 
 
 We have seen that it was practically impossible for the chorus ^ 
 to leave the scene of action during the play. This convention / 
 was particularly awkward when circumstances arose which 
 would naturally demand their presence elsewhere. Such a 
 situation was. most frequently brought about by a murder or 
 suicide just behind the scenes. Up to some thirty years ago an 
 explanation of the chorus' failure to pass through the back scene 
 under such circumstances might be sought in the physical 
 conditions, since until then it was supposed that the Greek actors 
 had stood upon a stage ten or twelve feet above the chorus (see 
 p. 78, above). This interpretation never had more than half 
 a leg to stand upon, inasmuch as the extant plays prove con- 
 clusively that, whatever the physical conditions, intercourse 
 between actors and chorus was quite feasible and was often 
 resorted to (see p. 88, above) ; but it lost the slightest claim to 
 acceptance after Dorpfeld's excavations and a re-examination of 
 the evidence showed that during the classical period of Greek 
 drama chorus and actors had stood upon the same level (see 
 
 ^ Four Plays of Euripides (1905), pp. 125-30.
 
 158 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 p. 117, above). Moreover, it is illuminating to note that the 
 chorus found it as difl&cult to leave the scene of action during 
 the play by the side entrances as by the doors in the background. 
 By vs. 1070 of Sophocles' Philoctetes, Odysseus and Neoptolemus 
 have gained possession of Heracles' bow and are preparing to 
 return to their ship. As the chorus consists of sailors, these 
 would naturally leave with their commander. But the play 
 was not to end at this point, and the poet wished the chorus to 
 sing at vs. 1095. Accordingly, Philoctetes appeals to the chorus 
 not to desert him (vss. 1070 f.), and upon their referring the 
 request to Neoptolemus he replies, very improbably, that at the 
 risk of his being considered soft-hearted they may tarry until 
 the ship is ready to sail and that possibly by that time Philoctetes 
 will have decided to accompany them to Troy (vss. 1074-79). 
 No ; the convention was derived from the fact that by origin the 
 chorus was an integral part of Greek drama and had a role to 
 play which required its continual presence; that is to say, leaving 
 the stage is not, with rare exceptions, "the kind of action that 
 a < Greek > chorus can ever perform."' 
 
 But as already intimated, the difficulty arose most frequently 
 and most glaringly when murder was threatened or was actually 
 being committed behind the scenes. In such a case '' to say that 
 convention prevented the chorus from entering the palace may be 
 true; but such a convention was of little assistance to a great 
 dramatist who keenly felt the force of cause and effect. Such 
 an artist knows that even convention must be met in a natural 
 way. Does convention prevent the entrance of the chorus into 
 the palace? Then common sense and ordinary conduct must 
 as well, else there is an unreality which is absent in a work of 
 art" (Stephenson, op. ciL, p. 44). As successful a solution of 
 the problem as any Greek dramatist ever devised occurs in 
 Aeschylus' Agamemnon. The chorus consists of Argive elders, 
 who must not be represented as cravenly betraying their lord. 
 On the other hand, when Agamemnon's cry of agony is heard at 
 vs. 1343. they cannot be allowed to rush in and prevent his mur- 
 
 ' Cf. Murray, Euripides and His Age (1913), p. 238.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF CHORAL ORIGIN 159 
 
 der. This would alter the whole course of the story and at the 
 same time would cause an unparalleled lacuna in the action 
 of the play by leaving the stage, for a considerable interval, 
 absolutely bare of performers. As soon as Agamemnon's voice 
 is heard, the choreutae fall into a wrangle, each declaring his 
 opinion in turn (vss. 1346-71); but before they can reach a 
 decision and act upon it, Clytemnestra and the bodies of her 
 husband and of Cassandra are revealed. 
 
 Except that the debate is here so extended, the same device 
 occurs again and again. In Euripides' Hecahe, Polymestor has 
 been enticed within the tents, and cries out that he has been 
 blinded and his children slain but that his enemies will not 
 escape (vss. 1034-40) . The chorus of Trojan captive women ask 
 whether they ought not to rush in to help thwart this counter- 
 stroke (vss. 1042 f.), but at once Hecabe appears and obviates 
 the need of their entering (vs. 1044). Similarly, in Euripides' 
 Andromache, vss. 815-19, Hermione's nurse declares that her 
 strength has given out in trying to prevent her mistress' suicide, 
 and beseeches the chorus to enter the palace and lend their aid. 
 The slaves acknowledge that they hear the cries of servants from 
 within, which confirm the nurse's story; but at this moment 
 Hermione herself slips from the restraining clutches of her 
 attendants and darts upon the stage. Less successful is the 
 scene in Euripides' Eippolytus. At vss. 776 £f. a handmaid 
 raises the cry that Phaedra has hanged herself, and begs someone 
 to cut her down. One semi-chorus inquires whether they should 
 not render this service, but the other rejoins that there are 
 attendants nearer at hand to do so and that ofl&cious meddlers 
 often endanger their own lives! Immediately thereafter a 
 further cry announces that the queen is dead past recovery (vss. 
 786 f.). One more illustration will suffice. The failure of the 
 chorus to rescue Medea's children is doubly motived : first, by the 
 Colchian's threat to anyone that might interfere (Euripides' 
 Medea, vss. 1053 f.), and secondly, by the fact that the palace 
 doors are barred, so that Jason's servants have to break them 
 down (vss. 13125.). It has also been conjectured that the
 
 l6o THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 chorus' description of Medea as iron-hearted and like a rock 
 (vss. 1279 ff.) is intended to suggest that they felt unable to cope 
 with so masterful and relentless a creature. This explanation 
 finds some support in the undoubted fact that the necessity of 
 comparative inactivity on the part of the chorus had much to doj 
 with the Greek tragedians' fondness for choruses of women and^ 
 old men. In speaking of the elders in Aeschylus' Agamemnon. 
 Cornford' says that they "cannot enter the palace; not because 
 the door is locked, nor yet because they are feeble old men. 
 Rather they are old men because an impassible barrier of con- 
 vention is forming between chorus and actors, and their age gives 
 colour to their powerlessness. ' ' In concluding this paragraph I wish 
 to point out that the chorus's inability to enter the background 
 during the play existed quite independently of the threat of 
 murder. In Euripides' Ion Creusa's maidservants, by the 
 express permission of their mistress, examine and admire the 
 sculpture on the outer walls of Apollo's temple at Delphi (vss. 
 183-218). In real life it would be inevitable that a crowd bent 
 on sight-seeing should soon wish to pass inside and view the 
 omphalus and other objects of interest; and this, of course, the 
 poet cannot allow. Accordingly, when the point is raised (vss. 
 219 ff.), Ion replies that it is forbidden to enter the inner fane 
 except after the offer of sacrifice. 
 
 Finally, even at the very end of the play the chorus could not 
 leave the stage except after the actors or in their company. 
 This convention arose from the same conditions as have already 
 been mentioned, but produced some incongruities of its own. 
 For example, in Euripides' Iphigenia among the Taurians and 
 Helen the Greek slaves in the choruses are promised, as a reward 
 for their silence and help, a return to Greece (see p. 156, above). 
 But since in the latter play Helen and Menelaus make their 
 final exit nearly five hundred lines before the end of the piece, 
 it is manifestly impossible for the chorus to be spared. Conse- 
 quently they are most unconscionably left in the lurch without 
 a single word being said of their rescue. In the Iphigenia they 
 
 ' Thucydides Mytkistoricus (1907), p. 147 (italics mine).
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF CHORAL ORIGIN l6l 
 
 fare no better up to the time when Orestes' ship is driven back 
 to land; but in the final outcome Athena appears and includes 
 the chorus among those whom King Thoas must allow to depart 
 in peace (vss. 1467 f.). Possibly a desire to keep this promise to 
 the chorus was one of the considerations that induced the poet 
 to have the ship forced back to shore and thus to make a divine 
 apparition unavoidable. 
 
 So inextricably is the chorus interwoven with Greek drama^ 1/^ 
 that its influence may be detected almost anywhere. I have 
 traced some of the broader effects, however, and in subsequent 
 chapters minor results will be mentioned in connection with other 
 factors. ~'
 
 'Eicet (sc. if ■'■o'S dyCoffC) ft-ti^ov duvavrai 
 vvv rdy iroiijrwv ol viroKpiTal. — ArisxotlE. 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF ACTORS' 
 
 The dithyramb and the comus, together with their derivatives, 
 early tragedy and early comedy, were entirely choral. Actors 
 were first developed in tragedy (see pp. i6 and 48, n. i, above). 
 Inasmuch as the early dithyramb and early tragedy were devoted 
 to the worship of Dionysus and since their choreutae were his 
 attendant sprites (satyrs or sileni), it followed that their songs 
 would mostly take the form of prayers addressed to him, hymns 
 in his honor, or odes descriptive of his adventures, sufferings, etc. 
 A lyric duet between the coryphaeus and the other choreutae 
 was also possible. Such performances bore much the same 
 relationship to later tragedy that the modern oratorio bears to a 
 sacred opera. That is to say, the choreutae were not differen- 
 
 ' In addition to the works mentioned on pp. xvii and xx f ., above, cf . Detscheff, 
 De Tragoediariim Graecarum Conformatione Scaenica ac Dramatica (1904); Rees, 
 "The Meaning of Parachoregema," Classical Philology, II (1907), 387 ff.; The 
 So-called Rule of Three Actors in the Classical Greek Drama (1908); "The Number 
 of the Dramatic Company in the Period of the Technitae," American Journal of 
 Philology, XXXI (1910), 435., and "The Three Actor Rule in Menander," 
 Classical Philology, V (1910), 291 ff.; O'Connor, Chapters in the History of Actors 
 and Acting in Ancient Greece (1908); Leo, Der Monolog im Drama (1908), and 
 Plautinische Forschmigen'' (191 2), pp. 226 ff.; Listmann, Die Technik des Drei- 
 gesprdchs in der griechischcn Tragodie (19 10); Kaffenberger, Das Dreischauspieler- 
 gesetz in der griechischcn Tragodie (191 1); Foster, The Divisions in the Plays of 
 Plautus and Terence (1913); Stephenson, Some Aspects of the Dramatic Art of 
 Aeschylus (1913); Graf, Szenische Untersuchungen zu Menander (T914); and 
 Conrad, The Technique of Continuous Action in Roman Comedy (1915), reviewed by 
 Flickinger in Classical Weekly, X (1917), 1475. 
 
 Fig. 66 is taken from Baumeister's Denkmdler, Fig. 1637, and belongs to the 
 Roman period. The apparent height of the tragic actors is said to have been 
 increased by means of the St/cos projecting above the head and of thick-soled 
 boots {Kodopvoi), both represented in Fig. 66. The employment of such para- 
 phernaUa rests upon late evidence, however, and has been disputed for fifth-century 
 tragedy; cf. for example Smith, "The Use of the High-soled Shoe or Buskin in 
 Greek Tragedy of the Fifth or Fourth Centuries B.C.," Harvard Studies, XVI (1905), 
 123 ff. For the costumes of comic actors, see pp. 46 f., above. 
 
 162
 
 Fig. 66 
 IVOkV SIATUETTE OF A TRAGIC ACTOR
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF ACTORS 163 
 
 tiated in character, and there was no dramatic impersonation 
 (/it/xTycrts) ; despite their costumes the chorus sang as human 
 worshipers of Dionysus, not in accordance with their character 
 as sileni. From the duet between the coryphaeus and the other 
 choreutae it was only a step, but a highly important one, no 
 longer to {h^nk of the coryphaeus as one silenus among his fellows 
 but as Dio4ysus himself in the midst of his followers, and then 
 to set hin^ off by himself as an actor in contradistinction to the 
 choreuta^ and their Jiiew) coryphaeus. This innovation was the 
 work of U^feeSpisTand however long the name "tragedy" may 
 ahready have been applied to the previous performances this step 
 marked the first beginning of tragedy in the modern sense (see 
 p. 16 f,, above). Now that the new actor had to impersonate 
 Dionysus, the necessity rested likewise upon the sileni in the 
 chorus to Hve up to their own, previously neglected, character. 
 It was not long until by a change of mask and costume the actor 
 was enabled to represent other personages as well as Dionysus 
 himself. This practice made possible a much more involved type 
 of drama than the limited resources would at first glance seem to 
 permit. 
 
 Aeschylus' earhest extant play, the Suppliants, belongs to 
 the two-actor period, but employs the second actor so sparingly 
 as to afford a very good idea of the possibiHties of the one-actor 
 play. Omitting the choral odes, the action runs as follows: The 
 fifty daughters of Danaus (the chorus) seek sanctuary near Argos 
 to escape the unwelcome suit of their cousins. At vs. 176 
 Danaus begins to admonish his daughters and a dialogue (vss. 
 204-33) ensues between them. At vs. 234 the king of Argos 
 enters and engages with the chorus in a dialogue and a lyric duet 
 (vss. 234-417). During this scene Danaus is present, silent, 
 inactive, and all but unnoticed; cf. vs. 318. Of course in a 
 one-actor play this character must have been removed so that 
 the single actor might reappear as the king. But that could 
 easily have been managed and would affect the present piece 
 in no essential way. After an ode the dialogue between the 
 king and the chorus is resumed (vss. 438-523), broken in upon
 
 1 64 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 only by a brief conversation between the king and Danaus (vss. 
 480-503). The former instructs Danaus how to supplicate the 
 citizens in the town and, upon the latter's request for protection, 
 orders attendants to accompany him. Here for the first time 
 are the two actors simultaneously employed, but their words 
 serve no more important purpose than to motivate the exit of 
 one of them. At vs. 523 the king likewise withdraws. At 
 vs. 600 Danaus reappears and with but a slight interruption on 
 the part of his daughters (vss. 602-4) informs them that the 
 Argives have decided to shield them (vss. 600 f., 605-24). At 
 vs. 710 Danaus descries the suitors' fleet in the distance and 
 declares, "I will return with helpers and defenders" (vs. 726). 
 Nevertheless, the scene is continued until vs. 775, when Danaus 
 departs to spread the alarm, incidentally releasing this actor to 
 play the part of the suitors' herald. At vs. 836 the herald enters 
 and to the accompaniment of a lyric duet between himself and 
 the chorus tries to drag the Danaids away. At vs. 907 this 
 attempt at violence is brought to a standstill by the king's 
 return. The following altercation between the herald and the 
 king (vss. 907-53) provides the only bit of genuine dramatic 
 conflict, visually represented, in the play and the only instance 
 of both actors being fully made use of together. In a one-actor 
 play such a passage would have been impossible but could have 
 been presented indirectly by means of a messenger's narrative. 
 At vs. 953 the herald withdraws, discomforted, and the king 
 turns to the chorus (vss. 954-65). In reply the chorus ask that 
 their father be returned to them (vss. 9665.). The interval 
 having been sufficient to enable the actor to shift from the mask 
 and costume of the herald to those of Danaus, the latter re-enters 
 at vs. 980 and converses with his daughters until the final ode. 
 Of all the extant plays of Aeschylus the Suppliants probably 
 makes the slightest appeal to the modern student. Its principal 
 value for us hes in the fact that it could readily be revamped for 
 presentation by one actor and in the light which it thus sheds 
 upon the character of one-actor drama. 
 
 Several tinies in this play, as appears from the foregoing 
 outline, an actor participates in a dialogue with the chorus. It
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF ACTORS 165 
 
 was not the practice for the choral part in such dialogues to be 
 spoken by all the choreutae in unison, but by the chorus leader 
 alone. Thus, though a sharp distinction was drawn between 
 actors and chorus, the former being furnished by the state and the 
 latter by private means (cf . pp. 270 f., below), yet the coryphaeus 
 served as a bond of connection between the two. We have seen 
 how the first actor was developed from the chorus leader; 
 doubtless the successive additions to the number of actors were 
 suggested in each case by the advantages arising from this 
 quasi-histrionic function of the coryphaeus. Thus in addition 
 to the regular actors, at each stage of development the tragic 
 poet always had at his disposal also one quasi-actor for carrying 
 on his dialogues. And the comic poet always had two such 
 quasi-actors, since the leaders of the two semi-choruses could 
 be used in this way (see p. 44, above). In the one-actor period 
 this quasi-histrionic function of the coryphaeus resulted in a 
 convention which continued long after the necessity for it had 
 passed away. It is obvious that at that juncture the single actor 
 could converse with no one but the chorus. This practice became 
 so stereotyped that in the two-actor period whenever a character 
 came into the presence of the chorus and another actor he directed 
 his remarks to the chorus before turning to the other character. 
 Of course oftentimes this was the natural thing to do. But the 
 force of tradition is seen in the fact that the principle was 
 sometimes observed under unfavorable conditions. Thus, as 
 we have already observed, in the Suppliants the king enters at 
 vs. 234 and at once begins a dialogue with the chorus, ignoring 
 their father until vs. 480. Greek respect for age and partiality > 
 for the masculine sex make this arrangement in a Greek play 
 very unnatural. Again, in the Persians a messenger from Greece 
 ignores his queen (vss. 249 ff.) and reports the Persian disaster 
 to the chorus of elders. Not until vs. 290 does Atossa address 
 him, and in typical Greek fashion Aeschylus strives to make her 
 words gloss over the unreality of his characters' comphance with 
 convention. "For a long time have I kept silence," she begins, 
 "dumbfounded by catastrophe. This ill exceeds my power to 
 tell or ask our woes." The same convention persisted even into
 
 l66 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 the three-actor period. Clytemnestra's husband has been gone 
 ten years or more, yet she must excuse herself to the chorus 
 (Aeschylus' Agamemnon, vss. 855-78) before greeting her lord 
 (see p. 155, above). Another instance occurs in Euripides' 
 Children of Heracles, vss. 120 ff. Moreover the coryphaeus 
 sometimes exercises an important influence upon the plot. For 
 example, in Aeschylus' Libation-Bearers, vss. 766 ff., it is the 
 coryphaeus who induces the servant to alter the wording of the 
 summons with which she is sent to Aegisthus. By this device 
 he comes unescorted and falls an easy victim to the conspirators. 
 In view of the normal employment of the coryphaeus as a 
 quasi-actor, Aeschylus took an easy and obvious step, or rather 
 half-step, in advance when he introduced the second actor. We 
 have seen that the deuteragonist was already made use of, though 
 sparingly, in the Suppliants. Also the Persians, the Seven 
 against Thebes (except possibly the closing scene; see p. 175, 
 below), and the Prometheus Bound require but two actors for 
 presentation. The great advantage accruing from the second 
 actor is manifest. Instead of being compelled to resort to a 
 messenger's report of an altercation or dialogue between two 
 personages, the playwright was now enabled to bring the char- 
 acters face to face in person upon his stage. On the other hand, 
 so limited a number of actors often seriously embarrassed the 
 dramatist in the economy of his play. Perhaps the best example 
 of this is afforded by Aeschylus' Prometheus. In the opening 
 scene Cratos and Bia (Strength and Force) drag Prometheus to a 
 remote spot in Scythia and Hephaestus nails him to a crag. 
 How can these four characters be presented by two actors ? In 
 the first place Bia has no speaking part, and mutes were freely 
 employed in addition to the regular actors. In the second place 
 Prometheus was represented by a wooden figure. This explains 
 how it was possible for a nail to be driven right through his 
 breast (vss. 64 f.). It explains also why so great emphasis is 
 laid upon the fastening process; first the hands are pinned down 
 (vs. 55), then the arms (vs. 60), the breast (vs. 65) and sides (vs. 
 71), and finally the legs (vs. 74). Thus the immobility and Hfe-
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF ACTORS 167 
 
 lessness of the supposed Prometheus are accounted for. Neither 
 Hephaestus' sympathy nor Cratos' insults ehcit a single word of 
 reply from his lips. Although this silence arises naturally from 
 the Titan's unyielding disposition, yet the real reason lies in the 
 use of a dummy. At vs. 81 Hephaestus retires, and after six 
 lines of further insults Cratos follows him. A slight pause would 
 naturally ensue, so that Prometheus might be sure that his enemy 
 had passed beyond the sound of his voice. These intervals 
 enabled the former actor to take his place at some crack or 
 opening behind the lay figure and break Prometheus' speech- 
 lessness (vs. 88). The other actor reappears in a succession of 
 roles throughout the play, as Oceanus (vs. 284), lo (vs. 561), 
 and Hermes (vs. 944) ; but these shifts were easily managed. 
 
 Soon after Sophocles' first appearance (468 B.C. or possibly 
 471 B.c.)^ he introduced the third actor. First of all this inno- 
 vation permitted a larger number of characters to be presented. 
 In Aeschylus' two-actor plays the characters number three in the 
 Suppliants in addition to the chorus and coryphaeus, four in the 
 Persians, six in the Prometheus, and five in Seven against Thebes. 
 In the three-actor plays Aeschylus' characters range from five to 
 seven, Sophocles' from five to nine, and Euripides' from seven 
 to eleven, except that Euripides' satyr-play, the Cyclops, has 
 but three characters. Secondly, a third actor allowed greater 
 flexibility in handling entrances and exits. An artificial pause, 
 more or less improbably motived, to enable an actor to change 
 his mask and costume before appearing in another role would 
 now be less frequently required (see further, p. 231, below). 
 Thirdly, it allowed three personages to appear side by side in the 
 same scene, whereby in turn a certain aesthetic effect became 
 possible. I refer to the varied emotions which one actor's 
 statements or conduct sometimes produce in two other char- 
 acters. An excellent illustration is afforded by the scene with 
 the Corinthian messenger in Sophocles' Oedipus the King, vss. 
 924 ff. As the awful conviction is brought home to Jocaste that 
 
 ' Cf. Capps, "The Introduction of Comedy into the City Dionysia," University 
 of Chicago Decennial Publications, VI, 269, n. 37.
 
 1 68 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 Oedipus is her son as well as her husband, she rushes from the 
 stage to hang herself; but Oedipus, on the contrary, still lacking 
 the fatal clue, becomes elated at the prospect of discovering his 
 parents' identity. Similarly in the same playwright's Electra, 
 vss. 660 ff, the false report of Orestes' death cheers his mother 
 with the assurance that her murder of Agamemnon must now 
 remain unavenged, but plunges Electra into the desperation of 
 despair. Such situations would have been impossible in the 
 two-actor drama. Finally, the introduction of a third actor 
 contributed to the decay of the chorus. We have already noted 
 in the last chapter how the importance of the chorus steadily 
 dechned, especially in comedy. But this change was quantita- 
 tive as well as qualitative. In the prehistrionic period the 
 chorus and its coryphaeus, from the nature of the case, monop- 
 olized every line. After Thespis had brought in the first actor 
 the chorus yielded but a small place to its rival. Even in the 
 two-actor period in our earliest extant play, the Suppliants, 
 the chorus sang five hundred and sixty-five verses out of a total 
 of a thousand and seventy-four, and in addition to this the 
 coryphaeus spoke ninety verses. In six of Aeschylus' seven 
 extant pieces the choral element varies from three-fifths to about 
 one-half of the whole play. The Prometheus, for special reasons, 
 is exceptional, the fraction being only one-sixth. The effect 
 of the third actor is seen in the fact that in Sophocles the propor- 
 tion varies from one-fourth to one-seventh and in Euripides from 
 one-fourth to one-eighth. 
 
 The question naturally arises, Why were the Greek dramatists 
 so slow in increasing the number of actors? This was due 
 partly to a paucity of histrionic talent and partly to difl&culty 
 in mastering the dramatic technique of the dialogue. 
 
 In the dithyramb and the prehistrionic drama the poet was 
 his own coryphaeus. Accordingly when Thespis introduced the 
 first actor he served in that capacity himself, appointing another 
 as coryphaeus. So did Phrynichus, Aeschylus, and the other 
 dramatists of that period. Since there were then no retired 
 actors and no opportunity to serve an apprenticeship, it is
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF ACTORS 169 
 
 obvious that these early poets had to teach themselves how to 
 ' act. At this stage it was not possible for anyone except a play- 
 wright to become an actor, and actors must have been corre- 
 spondingly scarce. The situation improved somewhat after 
 Aeschylus introduced the second actor, for though the poets still 
 carried the major roles it now became possible for men with 
 natural histrionic ability to develop it and gain experience in 
 minor parts. By the time of Sophocles, actors had become so 
 plentiful, relatively speaking, that he could increase the number 
 employed by each poet from two to three and could retire from 
 personal participation in the pubHc presentation of his works. 
 His weak voice is said to have been responsible for this second 
 innovation; but he occasionally appeared in scenes where this 
 weakness was no great hindrance, e.g., as a harp player in 
 Tharnyris and as an expert ball player in Nausicaa. By 449 B.C. 
 the profession was so large and its standing so well recognized 
 that a contest of tragic actors was made an annual event in the 
 program of the City Dionysia, This course of development 
 reveals one reason for the long duration of the one- and two-actor 
 stages in Greek drama. 
 
 We shall now pass to the second reason. In the prehistrionic 
 period a series of lyric questions and answers between chorus and 
 cor3^haeus was the nearest approach to a dialogue that was 
 possible (see p. 10, above). With the invention of the first 
 actor this interplay of question and answer, still lyrical in form, 
 could be carried on by the actor and the chorus (including the 
 coryphaeus). Such a duet, which came to be known as a 
 commus, continued in use, especially for dirges, as long as the ^ 
 chorus lasted. Side by side with this, however, there quickly 
 developed a non-lyric interchange of spoken Unes between actor 
 and coryphaeus. But not until the second actor was added did 
 true dialogue in the modern sense become possible. Yet the 
 poets could not at once make full use of even these simple 
 resources. Our analysis of Aeschylus' Suppliants (pp. 163 f., 
 above) shows that in two instances Danaus stood silent and unad- 
 dressed during a conversation between the other actor and the
 
 I70 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 coryphaeus. Moreover, priority of usage constrained the play- 
 wrights to give the actor-coryphaeus dialogue precedence over 
 actor-actor dialogue (cf . pp. 165 f., above) . They seemed unable 
 to weld the two types together with a technique which would 
 employ all three persons at once. In the three-actor period the 
 embarrassment of riches made their helplessness the more 
 striking. "A" might engage in a dialogue with "B" while 
 "C" remained inactive; then with ''C" while "B" was silent; 
 and finally "B" and ''C" might converse, with "A" remaining 
 passive. Often the transitions are marked or the longer speeches 
 set off by a few more or less perfunctory verses (usually two) 
 spoken by the coryphaeus. The type is not frequently worked 
 out as completely as I have just indicated, but the principle is 
 illustrated on a lesser scale in almost every play. Compare, for 
 example, Euripides' Helen, vss. 1 186-1300, and Andromache, 
 vss. 547-766. Such an arrangement, needless to say, falls far 
 short of a genuine trialogue or tetralogue. Yet we must not be 
 unfair in condemning this practice. The Greek poets were 
 feeling their way and could not immediately attain to every 
 refinement. Even in Shakespeare and the modern drama, 
 despite centuries of continuous experimentation and the numer- 
 ous examples of superior technique, the tandem arrangement of 
 dialogue is still not uncommon. 
 
 A half-step in advance consisted in the silent actor interrupt- 
 ing the dialogue with some electrifying utterance. For example, 
 in Aeschylus' Libation-Bearers (458 B.C.), Clytemnestra's appeal 
 to Orestes on the score of her motherhood stays his hand in the 
 very act of murdering her, and he weakly turns to his trusted 
 friend, Pylades, for guidance. The latter's ringing response, 
 
 Wilt thou abjure half Loxias' behest, 
 The word of Pytho, and thy sacred troth ? 
 Hold all the world thy foe rather than Heaven 
 [vss. 900-903, Warr's translation], 
 
 is as effective as if uttered by the god in person, and urges Orestes 
 on to the deadly deed. These are the only words that Pylades 
 utters in the whole tragedy. In another play belonging to the
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF ACTORS 17 1 
 
 same trilogy, the Eumenides, Aeschylus rose to the full possi- 
 bilities of his histrionic resources — Orestes, the coryphaeus, 
 Apollo, and Athena all participating in the conversation between 
 vss. 746 ajid 753. Similarly, in Sophocles' Oedipus at Colonus, 
 Antigone, Oedipus, Ismene, and the coryphaeus all speak between 
 vss. 494 and 506, and in Euripides' Suppliants the herald, the 
 coryphaeus, Adrastus, and Theseus divide four lines among 
 them (vss. 510-13). But after all, such instances are compara- 
 tively rare and seldom extend over a very long passage. 
 
 In contradistinction to tragicvpractice Aristophanes in the 
 last quarter of the fifth century enmloyed not merely three but 
 occasionally even four comic actork^in ensemble scenes. For 
 example, in the Lysistrata, vss. 78-246, Calonice, Myrrhina, 
 Lysistrata, and Lampito engage in a running fire of conversation 
 quite in the modern manner. Again, in the Frogs, vss. 141 1 ff., 
 Dionysus, Aeschylus, Euripides, and Pluto all have speaking 
 parts, although the last two do not address one another. In the 
 same play (vs. 555) Dionysus utters three words while three other 
 participants in the dialogue are present. Under similar circum- 
 stances Pseudartabus interposes two verses (100 and 104) in the 
 Acharnians, and Triballus parts of five verses (1615, 1628 f., and 
 1678 f.) in the Birds. In these passages the comic coryphaei 
 have no speaking parts. Trialogues are not so rare in Old 
 Comedy as to justify an enumeration of the instances, and they 
 are sometimes embelhshed by the participation of the coryphaei. 
 Nevertheless, the old tandem arrangement is still the more 
 common one when three characters are present. 
 
 We thus pass from one problem to another: Why this dis- 
 parity between the technique of tragedy and comedy? Must 
 "we suppose that the comic dramatists were more clever artists 
 than their tragic confreres ? By no means. Comedy was more 
 mobile and reacted more quickly to the actual conditions of 
 contemporaneous life; tragedy was more conventional, never 
 could free itself entirely from the power of tradition, and could 
 only slowly modify that tradition. The situation is clearly 
 revealed in the field of meter. In the iambic trimeters written
 
 172 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 by Aeschylus a trisyllabic substitution (tribrach, anapaest, or 
 dactyl) for the pure disyllabic iambus occurs only once in about 
 twenty-five verses. In the earliest plays of Euripides such 
 resolutions appear once in sixteen verses but gradually increase 
 to a maximum of one in every alternate verse.' On the contrary, 
 in the comedies of Aristophanes they are found in almost every 
 line. Now we are not to suppose that Euripides required a 
 hfetime in order to learn how to use resolutions with freedom or 
 that he was never able to gain the facility of Aristophanes. Nor 
 are we to suppose that Sophocles, whose iambics resemble those 
 of Aeschylus, was never able to master this expedient. In both 
 cases we see merely the power which convention and tradition 
 exercised over tragedy. And the same influences made them- 
 selves felt in the comparatively archaic technique of tragic 
 dialogue and tended to keep the tragic playwrights from making 
 full use of their resources. 
 
 But were the resources of the tragic writers as great as those 
 of the comedians? We have seen how the first, second, and 
 third actors were added to Greek tragedy. Is there reason to 
 believe that the tragedians of Athens ever followed the comedians 
 in employing a larger number ? Until recently a negative reply 
 to this has been accepted without serious question, but in 1908 
 Professor Rees challenged the tradition. Three years later the 
 old view was defended by Dr. Kaffenberger. Although neither 
 has been able fully to establish his contentions, yet the discussion 
 has helped to clear the air, defined the issues more sharply, and 
 really settled certain important points. For one thing, since 
 1844 it has generally been taken for granted that three actors 
 were the maximum for Old Comedy as well as for tragedy. But 
 the passages just cited from Aristophanes would seem to be 
 decisive against this view, and all the objections to the presenta- 
 tion of Greek tragedy by only three actors apply with still 
 greater force to Old Comedy. Even Dr. Kaffenberger {op. ciL, 
 pp. 9 f.) accepts this conclusion, and it is an invaluable result 
 of Professor Rees's investigations that he has banished this phase 
 
 ' Cf. Tanner, Transactions of American Philological Association, XLYl (1915), 
 185-87. For Sophocles, cf. Jebb's Electra, p. Ivii.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF ACTORS 173 
 
 of the subject from the field of controversy. Moreover, they are 
 both agreed^ that a fourth actor seems sometimes to be required 
 also for New Comedy. It must be added, however, that Dr. Graf 
 {op. cit., pp. 29 ff.) dissents. But in any case the question has 
 been restricted, so far as the fifth century is concerned, to the 
 practice in tragedy. 
 
 It can be said at once that if we are willing to grant that the 
 Greeks made use of certain desperate expedients it is physically 
 possible to stage all the extant tragedies with three actors. But 
 these expedients are so offensive to modern feeling as to be 
 tolerable only as a last resort. It will be best to begin at a point 
 where comparative agreement is possible, viz., with Aeschylus' 
 earlier plays, which nearly everyone would admit were intended 
 for two actors alone. Do they reveal any indication of this 
 limitation ? 
 
 In the analysis of Aeschylus' Suppliants on p. 164, the reader 
 will remember that Danaus, having declared "I will return with 
 helpers and defenders," took his departure at vs. 775; after an 
 ode, the suitors' herald arrived on the scene (vs. 836) but was 
 balked by the entrance of the Argive king (vs. 907). One would 
 surely expect Danaus to accompany the king, but as a matter 
 of fact he does not reappear until vs. 980. The reason for this is 
 plain — Danaus and the herald are played by the same actor, and 
 consequently the former can return only after the latter 's 
 departure at vs. 953. Moreover, Aeschylus sought to gloss over 
 the blemish by having Danaus refer in advance to the possibility 
 of his being slow in spreading the alarm (vs. 730) and by having 
 the chorus request the king to send their father back to them 
 (vss. 968 ff.), as if his absence had been perfectly natural. This 
 incident teaches us four things: (i) A single actor could carry 
 several roles; the simplicity and sameness of ancient costumes 
 and the ease of slipping them off and on, together with the use of 
 masks by the actors, made this practice more feasible than it is 
 with us. Overzealous classicists have not merely asked us to 
 tolerate this practice but even to admire its results. Thus, 
 
 ' Cf. Rees, Classical Philology, V (1910), 291 ff., and Kaffenberger, op. cit., 
 p. 10.
 
 174 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 when one character returns to report the death of another the 
 spectators are supposed to have been doubly moved if they could 
 penetrate the messenger's disguise and from the identity of 
 stature, build, and voice recognize the ghost, as it were, of the 
 departed visibly before them (!)/ (2) This practice oftentimes 
 necessitated the arbitrary withdrawal of a character from the scene 
 of action and his enforced absence when he would naturally be 
 present. (3) By inventing an inner reason for this the poet strove 
 to conceal or gloss over his yielding to external need. (4) The 
 intervals between the withdrawal of Danaus and the entrance of 
 the herald (vss. 776-836) and vice versa (vss. 953-80) afford an 
 inkling as to the length of time required for such shifts in roles. 
 Further information is derived from Aeschylus' Prometheus 
 Bound (see pp. 166 f ., above). (5) Supernumeraries may be em- 
 ployed for silent parts, e.g., that of Bia. (6) A part may be divided 
 between a lay figure and an actor, as in the case of Prometheus 
 himself. From the nature of things, this expedient would not 
 be frequently employed; but an analogous device (6a) is 
 common, viz., to give the silent portions of a role to a mute and 
 the speaking portions to an actor. (7) The stubborn silence of 
 the mutes and supernumeraries employed according to principles 
 (5) and {6a) is sometimes extremely embarrassing and difi&cult to 
 motivate. (4a) The interval required for a ''lightning" change 
 from one character to another was much shorter than the 
 Suppliants led us to suppose. Six verses and a slight pause in 
 the action enabled the actor impersonating Hephaestus to with- 
 draw by the side entrance after vs. 81 and to get in position to 
 speak from behind the wooden figure of Prometheus at vs. 88. 
 This conclusion is confirmed by certain evidence in Plautus' 
 translation of Greek comedies, which indicates that about thir- 
 teen lines would suffice.^ 
 
 ' Cf. C. F. Hermann, De Distributione Personarum inter Histriones in Tra- 
 goediis Graecis (1840), pp. 32-34. 
 
 ' Cf. Prescott, "Three Puer-Scenes in Plautus and the Distribution of Roles," 
 Harvard Studies, XXI (1910), 44. It ought to be added that some authorities deny 
 that Prometheus was represented by a dummy, believing that this tragedy belonged 
 to the three-actor period (see further, p. 228, below).
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF ACTORS 175 
 
 Still other principles are derivable from Aeschylus' Persians. 
 The ghost of Darius having requested his widow to meet their 
 son Xerxes with a change of raiment, Atossa replies (vss. 849 ff.) : 
 "I shall endeavor to meet my son .... and," turning to the 
 chorus, *'if he comes hither before me, do you comfort him and 
 escort him to his palace." These words are clearly intended to 
 prepare us for her failure to appear in the denouement, and in 
 fact she does not appear. But since one of the two actors is 
 disengaged in the final scene, at first glance there seems to be no 
 external reason for her absence. It is evident that Aeschylus 
 valued the parts of Atossa and Xerxes so highly that he wanted 
 them both played by the better of his two actors, the protagonist. 
 If Atossa had appeared with her son, she must have been imper- 
 sonated by a different actor than in the opening scenes. The 
 poet preferred to sacrifice verisimilitude somewhat rather than 
 to "split" Atossa's role in this fashion. Hence, we must con- 
 clude (8) that at any cost star parts were reserved for the leading 
 actor, (9) that split roles were to be avoided, and (10) that 
 sometimes for purely technical reasons the dramatist would 
 unnaturally keep a character off the stage entirely in certain 
 scenes. 
 
 If we could be sure that the final scene of Aeschylus' Seven 
 against Thebes is genuine, it would be possible to deduce a final 
 principle. The main support for the charge of interpolation is 
 that this scene in a two-actor play apparently^ requires three 
 actors. From vs. 961 to vs. 1004 Antigone and Ismene engage 
 in a lyric duet; at vs. 1005 a herald enters and converses with' 
 Antigone. From this scene, which I am inclined to accept as 
 genuine (see p. 283, below), we must concede either that a super- 
 numerary could occasionally bear a brief singing (or speaking) 
 part or preferably that the herald, standing in the side entrance 
 concealed from the spectators and already dressed for his own 
 role, sang Ismene's share of the duet while a mute went through 
 the dumb show of her part before the audience; at the conclusion 
 of the duet he promptly appeared in propria persona. Though 
 the latter alternative is offensive to present-day taste, it is not
 
 176 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 unparalleled in the annals of the modern stage/ In any case 
 one of these alternatives is the last principle (11) to be drawn 
 from the two-actor drama. 
 
 Now these eleven principles are so manifestly operative in the 
 other Greek tragedies as to raise an irresistible presumption that 
 some restriction (to three or at most to four actors) applied also 
 to them. It would obviously be out of place to pass every play 
 in review here; I must content myself with a few typical illustra- 
 tions and then consider the crucial cases. 
 
 In order to avenge his daughter, Menelaus is on the point of 
 murdering her rival (Andromache) and the latter's son when he 
 is interrupted by the arrival of Peleus, Hermione's father-in-law. 
 There is no reason why Menelaus should fear the old man's 
 blusterings; nevertheless he suddenly leaves Hermione in the 
 lurch and takes his departure with the words : 
 
 Now, seeing that my leisure serveth not, 
 Home will I go; for not from Sparta far 
 Some certain town there is, our friend, time was, 
 But now our foe: against her will I march, 
 Leading mine host, and bow her 'neath my sway. 
 Soon as things there be ordered to my mind, 
 I will return, etc. 
 
 [Euripides Andromache, vss. 732 ff., Way's translation] 
 
 Surely no excuse was ever less convincing than this ! No wonder 
 Professor Verrall's ingenuity has built up a whole reinterpretation 
 of the play around it.^ The real reason for the sudden leave- 
 taking is only too apparent — Orestes is presently to make his 
 appearance (vs. 881) and Menelaus' actor is required for his 
 role. This exempHfies principles (i), (2), and (3). 
 
 Again, in Sophocles' Maidens of Trachis, Lichas, Deianira, and 
 a messenger are on the scene when Deianira spies lole in a 
 throng of captives and questions her (vss. 307 ff.). lole makes 
 no reply whatsoever. Lichas explains her refusal to answer by 
 stating that from grief and weeping she has not uttered a word 
 
 ' Cf. Lewes, Life of Goethe'^, p. 424, 
 
 » Cf. Four Plays of Euripides (1905), pp. i ff.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF ACTORS 177 
 
 since leaving her fatherland (vss. 3225.). Since the three actors 
 are already occupied in this scene it is evident that lole is played 
 by a mute and cannot speak. This illustrates principles (5) 
 and (7). 
 
 Still again, up to vs.~ 1245 of Euripides' Orestes, when he 
 enters the palace, Pylades speaks freely. At vs. 1554 Menelaus, 
 Orestes, Hermione, and Pylades enter the scene. The last two 
 are now played by mutes, the third actor appearing as Apollo at 
 vs. 1625. Orestes threatens to kill Hermione; and after vainly 
 striving to deter him Menelaus turns to Pylades with the query 
 (vs. 1591): "Do you, also, share in this murder, Pylades?" 
 What is a mute to do under such circumstances ? Orestes 
 relieved the situation by saying: ''His silence gives consent; 
 my word will suffice." There can be no doubt that the play- 
 wright intended Menelaus' question to create the illusion that 
 Pylades could have spoken had he so desired, principles {6a) 
 and (7). 
 
 Euripides avoided an awkward silence of this sort in the Ion 
 by leaving Xuthus unrepresented in the final scene, where the 
 three actors speak in other roles. Xuthus takes his final depar- 
 ture at vs. 675, intending to celebrate for his new-found son a 
 pubHc feast from which the host himself is most strangely 
 absent. The poet prepares us in advance for this contingency 
 by means of Xuthus' words to his son, as reported by a servant 
 at vss. ii3ofif.: "If I tarry in sacrificing to the Birth-gods," a 
 thin pretext, "place the feast before the friends assembled there, " 
 principles (i), (2), (3), and (10). 
 
 Finally, for the presentation of his Phoenician Maids, Eurip- 
 ides must have had a leading actor of great musical attain- 
 ments. For such a performer the roles of Jocaste and Antigone 
 were especially adapted, and he seems to have played them both, 
 principle (8). The piece opens with a soliloquy by Jocaste, 
 who withdraws at vs. 87. Immediately a servant appears on 
 the palace roof and tells Antigone to tarry upon the stairs until 
 he can assure himself that there is no one near to see her and to 
 spread scandalous reports of her indiscretion. Thus, Antigone's
 
 178 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 appearance is delayed for fifteen verses (vss. 88-102), which is 
 sufficient to enable Jocaste's actor to shift to the new role, 
 principle (4a). The protagonist continues to play both parts 
 without difficulty, except at vss. 1 264 ff . Here Jocaste summons 
 her daughter from the palace and both are present during vss. 
 1270-82, the latter speaking some six verses. Obviously Antig- 
 one's lines in this brief scene must have been delivered by one of 
 the subordinate players, though such splitting of a role violates 
 Aeschylean practice, see principle (9). Perhaps the procedure 
 in this case was condoned by the fact that Antigone's part 
 previously and (for the most part) subsequently was entirely 
 lyric, while her few words here are in plain iambics. The dif- 
 ference between the singing and the speaking voice would help 
 to conceal the temporary substitution of another actor. It is 
 true that by assigning Jocaste's and Antigone's roles to different 
 actors throughout it is possible to distribute the parts in this 
 play among three actors without any difficulty whatever. But 
 this would require us to ignore the peculiar technique of the 
 opening scenes, the true inwardness of which was recognized by 
 ancient commentators.^ 
 
 These examples are by no means exhaustive, but it is high 
 time that we turn to the passages which are of crucial importance 
 to the three-actor theory. In Aeschylus' Libation-Bearers a 
 servant has just informed Clytemnestra that her paramour is 
 slain, and she cries out: "Let some one quickly give me an ax 
 to slay a man withal" (vs. 889). We are to suppose that the 
 slave at once makes his exit to comply with her command. 
 She speaks two lines more and Orestes enters. They divide 
 seven more lines between them, and Orestes' purpose is beginning 
 to waver when he catches sight of Pylades entering and asks: 
 *'Py lades, what shall I do ? Shrink from killing my mother ?" 
 Pylades' electrifying response has already been quoted (vss. 
 900-902; see p. 170, above). Here we have four speaking char- 
 acters between vss. 886 and 900 and consequently four actors, 
 unless the servant can be transformed into Pylades within the 
 
 ' Cf. the scholium on vs. 93.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF ACTORS 179 
 
 space of nine lines, vss. 891-99. This would be a "lightning" 
 change indeed (4a), and it is not surprising that it has been 
 challenged. Yet the ancient scholiast accepts it and I do not 
 believe we are warranted in pronouncing it impossible, especially 
 since the shift is merely from one male character to another. 
 
 Another sort of difficulty is presented by Euripides' Androm- 
 ache. Menelaus, Andromache, and her son, Molossus, all have 
 speaking (or singing) parts just before the entrance of Peleus 
 at vs. 547. Since none of the earlier speakers has withdrawn 
 and since Peleus at once begins to talk, it would seem at first 
 glance that we had four actors indisputably before us. Not 
 so, answer the defenders of the traditional view, for it is sig- 
 nificant that Molossus becomes utterly dumb after Peleus enters. 
 Therefore we are asked to believe that Molossus was played by 
 a mute throughout, and the actor who is presently to appear as 
 Peleus deUvered from behind the scenes the words which belong 
 to Molossus, the mute furnishing only the gestures. We have 
 already found support for this kind of thing in a suspected scene 
 , of Aeschylus' Seven against Thebes, principle (11), second alterna- 
 tive (pp. 175 f.). But we are asked to go further and beheve that 
 this was always the practice when children seemed to sing or 
 speak upon the Greek stage;* and in confirmation of this it is 
 pointed out that whenever children have a part, as in Euripides' 
 Alcestis, vss. 393 ff. and Medea, vss. 1271 ff., one of the actors is 
 always off the scene and available for this purpose. The most 
 difficult example of this problem has recently come to light in the 
 fragments of Euripides' Hypsipyle, vss. 1579 £f.^ The heroine 
 and Amphiaraus converse from the beginning of the fragment to 
 vs. 1589, where the latter makes his exit. Two lines of farewell 
 (vss. 1590 f.) are addressed to him and are assigned by the 
 papyrus to "the children of Hypsipyle." Moreover, they are 
 of such a nature that one line must have been spoken by each 
 of the two youths. Next, one of them converses with his mother 
 until Thoas, who also has a speaking part, appears at vs. 1632. 
 
 ' Cf. Devrient, Das Khid auf der antiken Biihne (1904). 
 ' Cf. Oxyrhynchus Papyri, VI (1908), 69.
 
 iSo 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 Here, then, if the children's parts are taken by actors we have 
 four actors required in two successive scenes. The only alter- 
 native Hes in supposing that mutes impersonated the boys and 
 that Thoas' actor, already dressed for his introit at vs. 1632, 
 spoke their Hnes from behind the scenes. This would include 
 
 Fig. 67. — Distribution of Roles to Actors in Sophocles' Oedipus at Colonus 
 
 twelve lines for one youth and one line, in a different voice, for 
 the other. 
 
 But the most intractable play of all is Sophocles' Oedipus at 
 Colonus. Antigone and Oedipus are on the stage continuously 
 for the first eight hundred and forty-seven verses (the latter until 
 vs. 1555)^ while the third actor appears successively as a stranger, 
 Ismene, Theseus, and Creon (Fig. 67). So far there is no diffi- 
 culty; but at this point Creon hopes to bring Oedipus to time
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF ACTORS l8l 
 
 by announcing that his guards have already seized Ismene (oflF- 
 scene) and by having them now drag Antigone away. Creon 
 threatens to carry off Oedipus as well, but at vs. 887 Theseus 
 reappears and prevents further outrage. Note, however, that 
 if only three actors were available Theseus must now be imper- 
 sonated by Antigone's actor, whereas previously he was repre- 
 sented by the actor who is now playing Creon 's part. Such 
 spHtting of a role is directly contrary to Aeschylean practice, 
 principle (9) , and has not in this instance the justification which 
 Euripides had for splitting Antigone's part in the Phoenician 
 Maids (p. 1 78, above) . For Theseus' second actor participates in 
 the dialogue more extensively than did hers and his lines are 
 prose throughout, while hers were entirely prose for one actor 
 and (almost) entirely lyric for the other. But there are still other 
 obstacles ahead. At vs. 1043 Creon and Theseus withdraw; 
 after a choral ode Antigone, Theseus, and Ismene rejoin Oedipus 
 (vs. 1099). Inasmuch as Ismene now has no speaking part she 
 is evidently played by a mute, principle (6a) . Presumably the 
 other two are represented by the same actors as at the begin- 
 ning, although this second transfer in Theseus* role doubles the 
 chances of the audience noticing the shift. The only alternative, 
 however, is to split also Antigone's role at this point. Theseus 
 retires at vs. 12 10 and reappears at vs. 1500, his actor having 
 impersonated Polynices in the interval (vss. 1 254-1446). At 
 vs. 1555 all the characters exeunt. In the final act a messenger 
 is on the stage from vs. 1578 to vs. 1669. Since Antigone and 
 Ismene enter immediately thereafter (vs. 1670), it is necessary 
 to suppose that they are played by the same actors as at the 
 beginning and that Oedipus has become the messenger. At vs. 
 175 1 Theseus makes his final entrance, represented this time by 
 Oedipus' actor, so that this important role is played in turn by 
 each of the three actors! This means splitting Theseus' role 
 twice. It is also possible to split his role and Ismene's (or 
 Antigone's) once each, or to split his role once and to have the 
 final actor in this part sing from behind the scenes the few 
 words which fall to Ismene just before Theseus' last entrance,
 
 l82 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 principle (i i). On the other hand, though a fourth actor would 
 obviate all these difficulties we should then have no explanation 
 for the complicated system of entrances and exits and for the 
 strange silence of Ismene during vss. 1099-1555, especially 
 during vss. 1457-99 (see p. 187, below). 
 
 I do not consider it warrantable to draw a categorical con- 
 clusion from the data considered in the last fifteen paragraphs. 
 But in my opinion the technique of almost every tragedy is 
 explicable only on the assumption that the regular actors were 
 restricted to three; and, as I stated at the beginning, it is 
 physically possible to stage every play with that number. In the 
 case of a few pieces, however, this limitation imposes practices 
 which so outrage the modern aesthetic sense that we instinctively 
 long for some manner of escape. According to late and unreli- 
 able evidence an extra performer was called a parachoregema. 
 This name would indicate that he was an extra expense to the 
 man who financed each poet's plays (the choregus, see pp. 186 
 and 27of., below), and consequently that his employment would 
 be determined by the wealth or liberality of the latter. But 
 whether it was in fact possible for the tragic playwrights occa- 
 sionally to have the services of such an extra, and, if so, under 
 what conditions and how, are questions which in the present 
 state of our knowledge can receive only hypothetical answers. 
 It must be recognized, however, that the paucity of actors in the 
 early days resulted, as we have just seen, in conventions of 
 staging which perhaps were afterward accepted as part of the 
 tradition, however unnecessary they may in the meanwhile have 
 become. The technique of composition also makes it clear in 
 my opinion that extra performers, if such were in fact engaged, 
 were not on a par with the other three nor employed freely 
 throughout the whole play but merely recited or sang a very 
 few lines at those crises in the dramatic economy which were 
 occasioned by the limitation in the number of regular actors. 
 
 We have now discovered why the dialogue technique of I 
 tragedy was more restricted than that of comedy, but there still 
 remains a further question. Why was the number of actors in
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF ACTORS 183 
 
 tragedy usually or always restricted to three, while four actors/ 
 were not uncommon in comedy ? So long as the poets did theic 
 own acting, there was no occasion for the state to interfere in the 
 selection of actors. And this situation would naturally continue 
 for some time after the plays were presented largely or wholly 
 by actors alone — the poets would still have the matter in their 
 charge. In fact there is no reason to suppose that the state 
 interposed its authority before the establishment of the contest 
 for tragic actors at the City Dionysia in 449 B.C. This supposi- 
 tion affords the best explanation for certain ancient notices. 
 For example, Aeschylus is said to have used Cleander as his first 
 actor and afterward to have associated Mynniscus with him, and 
 Sophocles to have employed Tlepolemus continuously. What- 
 ever truth or error may lie back of these statements they imply 
 that in the first half of the fifth century the choice of actors rested 
 solely with the poets. The same implication is inherent in the 
 fact that the second and third actors were introduced by Aeschy- 
 lus and Sophocles respectively. The poets must have made 
 these additions upon their own initiative. For the state could 
 not have shown partiahty by providing Sophocles, for example, 
 with more actors than were furnished the other dramatists in 
 the same contest; and if they were all alike given an increased 
 number, there would be no reason for crediting any one of them 
 with the innovation. The state must have assumed supervision 
 of the histrionic features of the dramatic contests at the same 
 time that it estabhshed a prize for actors, viz., in 449 B.C. And 
 since the tragedies of this period were presented by three actors, 
 this number became crystallized, and so was never thereafter, so 
 far as the state was concerned, exceeded in tragedy. Tragedies 
 were added to the Lenaean program and a prize for tragic actors 
 estabhshed for that festival simultaneously, about 433 B.C. 
 Naturally the conventional number of tragic actors would be 
 transferred from the older contest to the newer. In comedy, 
 however, the development and tradition were entirely different 
 (see pp. 52 f., above). Primitive comedies in Attica were 
 performed by a double chorus of choreutae, who constituted an
 
 1 84 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 undifferentiated crowd and assumed no individual roles, but 
 sang (or spoke) singly, antiphonally, or in unison. Shortly 
 before 450 B.C. regular actors were introduced in contradistinc- 
 tion to the choreutae; and Cratinus, imitating contemporaneous 
 tragedy, set their number at three. Yet the choreutae did not 
 for a long time entirely give up their old license and self- 
 assertiveness. Consequently, it is not surprising that the number 
 of performers did not remain at the tragic norm. The fact that 
 a contest of comic actors was not estabHshed at the Lenaea until 
 about 442 B.C. (at the City Dionysia not until about 325 B.C.) 
 allowed a slight interval for this reaction to assert itself before 
 usage became legalized. Such, then, are the reasons for the 
 number of actors being less restricted in comedy than in tragedy. 
 For about a century, beginning with 449 B.C., the state 
 annually engaged three tragic protagonists to be assigned by lot 
 to the three poets who were about to compete with plays. Each 
 protagonist seems to have hired his own subordinate actors 
 (deuteragonist and tritagonist) and with their assistance pre- 
 sented all the plays (at the City Dionysia three tragedies and one 
 satyric drama) which his poet had composed for the occasion. 
 The victorious actor in each year's contest was automatically 
 entitled to appear the following year. The other two protago- 
 nists were perhaps selected by means of a preliminary contest, 
 such as is mentioned for comic actors on the last day of the 
 Anthesteria. These regulations applied, mutatis mutandis, also 
 to the contest of comic actors and to the tragic and comic con- 
 tests at the Lenaea. Thus at the Lenaea of 418 B.C. Calhppides 
 acted in the two tragedies of Calhstratus, and Lysicrates in the 
 other dramatist's two plays. And it should be noted that, 
 whereas Callippides won the prize for acting, Callistratus was 
 defeated in the competition of tragedies. This must have been 
 a point of considerable difficulty, for an actor's chances must have 
 been greatly hampered by his being required to present a poor 
 series of plays; and a poet, likewise, must have suffered by reason 
 of an inferior presentation of his dramas. But sometime in the 
 fourth century, when the playwrights were no longer required
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF ACTORS 185 
 
 to write satyr-plays (see p. 199, below), a more equitable system 
 was introduced. Each of the protagonists in turn now acted one 
 of the three tragedies of each poet, the histrionic talent at the 
 disposal of each dramatist being thus made exactly the same. 
 For example, at the City Dionysia of 341 B.C. (Fig. 76) Astyd- 
 amas was the victorious playwright; his Achilles was played 
 by Thettalus, his Athamas by Neoptolemus, and his Antigone by 
 Athenodorus. The same actors likewise presented the three 
 tragedies of Evaretus and those of the third dramatist. On this 
 occasion Neoptolemus won; a year later, under similar condi- 
 tions, he was defeated by Thettalus. 
 
 We have seen how slow was the rise of actors into a profession 
 distinct from the poets. At a later time, however, they were 
 strongly organized into guilds under the name of "Dionysiac 
 artists" (ol aix^yl tov Alovvctoi' rexJ^trat). Their strongest "union " 
 {koivov or awoSos) was centered at Athens and it was also the 
 earliest (fourth century B.C.). Others were situated at Thebes, 
 Argos, Teos, Ptolemais, Cyprus, and in all parts of the Greek- 
 speaking world. Now already in the fifth century traveling 
 troupes had presented at the country festivals plays which had 
 won popular acclaim in Athens. For economic reasons it was 
 to the advantage both of the players who had to divide their 
 emoluments and of the communities which hired them to make 
 these traveling companies as small as possible and consequently 
 to restrict their repertoire to plays capable of being performed by 
 a minimum of actors. With the organization of guilds the 
 presentation of dramas "in the provinces" or even at important 
 festivals would be taken over by them; and the same economic 
 causes as before would operate to restrict the number of players 
 in a company. There is reason to believe that a normal troupe 
 in the time of the technitae consisted of three actors.^ Inscrip- 
 tions for the Soteric festival at Delphi for the years 272-269 B.C. 
 inclusive contain the names of ten companies of tragic actors 
 and twelve of comic actors. These performers belonged to the 
 Athenian guild and in every case there are three names to a 
 
 ' Cf. Rees, American Journal of Philology, XXXI (1910), 43 ff.
 
 1 86 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 company. There is no reason to doubt that this number was 
 customary also in the wandering troupes of the pre-technitae 
 period. Some maintain that already in the fifth century a fourth 
 actor was called a parachoregema, as being an extra burden upon 
 the choregus (cf. p. 182, above). But Professor Rees has made it 
 seem very probable that the term took its rise in the time of the 
 technitae. For in later usage choregein {xop'ny^lv) in most cases 
 no longer meant "to defray the expense of the chorus," "to act 
 as choregus," but simply "to furnish" without any reference to 
 the choregic system at all. Parachoregema, therefore, would 
 signify "that which is furnished in supplement," "an extra." 
 In other words, if the officials of a city contracted with the union 
 for one or more troupes for a dramatic festival they would be 
 provided with three-actor companies; but if they desired to 
 witness some four-actor play or to avoid the infeUcities arising 
 from the splitting or ill-assorted doubling of roles (see pp. 191 f., 
 below) they might at extra expense secure a parachoregema in 
 the form of a fourth actor and so gratify their wishes. According 
 to either interpretation, therefore, the term may refer, inter alia, 
 to a fourth actor, but there is a wide difference as to the theory of 
 the circumstances and situation which produced this meaning. 
 Since our extant plays belong exclusively to the fifth and 
 fourth centuries, the size of the troupes furnished by the guilds 
 could have exerted no influence upon them. But it is quite 
 possible that the dramatists of later times deliberately adapted 
 their technique to the needs of subsequent presentation by such 
 companies. For example, the number of characters who can 
 have a speaking part in a dialogue naturally cannot exceed the 
 number of actors at the poet's disposal. Whatever may have 
 been the situation previously, in the technitae period this would 
 be three. Therefore if the technitae did not give rise to, they at 
 least fixed the so-called aesthetic law that if a fourth character is 
 present at a conversation between three others he must keep 
 silent. This rule is expressed by Horace^ in the words: "Let 
 no fourth character strive to speak," and it is often mentioned by 
 
 » Cf. Horace Ars Poetica, vs. 192; see also p. 53, n. i, above.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF ACTORS 187 
 
 writers of the Alexandrian and Roman periods. The scholiasts 
 belong to this time and their comments frequently reveal an 
 attempt to foist the aesthetic law upon the fifth-century dramas. 
 The difficulty which the fifth-century writers encountered in 
 mastering even the three-part dialogue (see p. 170) lends to 
 such an attempt a misleading facility. In tragedy the normal 
 restriction of actors to three makes the task especially easy, but 
 even here the law is only superficially observed. For the cory- 
 phaeus often participates so freely in a conversation between 
 actors (see pp. 164 f. and 1 69 f., above) that only by courtesy can 
 it be called a three-part dialogue. In Seneca's Roman tragedies, 
 on the contrary, the coryphaeus never speaks if more than one 
 actor is present.^ Now Professor Rees would trace the aesthetic 
 law back to fifth-century times, but Dr. Kaffenberger {op. ciL, 
 pp. 2 2 f .) rightly demurs. He points out that in Sophocles' Oedipus 
 at Colonus, vss. 1099-1555, Oedipus, Antigone, and Ismene are 
 continuously present but that Ismene says never a word. What 
 is the cause of this silence? During vss. 1099-12 10 and vss. 
 1500-1555 Theseus is also present and during vss. 1 249-1446 
 Polynices is present. In these scenes, therefore, it is possible to 
 explain Ismene's silence on the basis of the aesthetic law. But 
 during vss. 1447-99 Oedipus and his two daughters are left alone, 
 and Ismene still remains silent. Consequently the aesthetic 
 explanation breaks down at this point and we must stand by our 
 earlier conclusion (see pp. 181 f., above) that throughout these 
 scenes Ismene is impersonated by a mute. Moreover, since 
 Oedipus forbids his daughters sharing his final moments with 
 him, why does the poet not let him take leave of them on the 
 stage instead of resorting to a messenger's narrative (cf. vss. 
 i6iiff.)? The answer is obvious. In such a situation Ismene 
 simply must have spoken and this a mute could not have done for 
 her. Moreover, there is no aesthetic reason why the law should 
 not be as binding in comedy as in tragedy. Nevertheless, fifth- 
 century comedies indisputably violated it and possibly fourth- 
 century comedies did also (see pp. 17 1-73, above). Therefore, if 
 
 ' Cf. Leo, Rheinisches Museum filr Philologie, LII (1897), 513.
 
 i88 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 tragedy was more scrupulous it must have been because its 
 actors were less numerous. But in truth it was not until the 
 period of the technitae and their three-actor troupes that a hard- 
 and-fast rule was estabHshed. Notwithstanding, the gram- 
 marians as a result of their closet study of Attic drama seized 
 upon the observance of the law in fifth-century tragedy and 
 usually in New Comedy, which was greatly influenced by 
 Euripides, as a justification for tracing the practice back to an 
 earlier origin. Except in one scene Seneca always observed the 
 law.^ But when Plautus and Terence attempted to transplant 
 New Comedy to Itahan soil, they encountered a difficulty. It 
 was the use of masks which enabled the Greek playwrights to 
 shift their actors from one role to another with lightning speed. 
 But masks are said not to have been employed on the Roman 
 stage until the next century. Therefore, even if the Greek 
 comedies had been translated without modification it would 
 have been quite impossible to present them at Rome with only 
 three or four (maskless) actors. Accordingly, Plautus and 
 Terence seem to have employed five or six performers and 
 occasionally even more, and then proceeded to make further use 
 of them so as to gratify the Roman desire for spectacular effects. 
 By combining Greek plays into one Latin version (by "con- 
 taminating" them, to use the technical term) and by altering 
 them freely they produced many scenes in which four or five 
 persons participate in the same dialogue. 
 
 The fact that women's parts in EUzabethan drama were 
 played by boys has been used to explain the fondness of Eliza- 
 bethan heroines for masquerading in mascuhne attire. Now the 
 Greek theater, likewise, knew no actresses — all parts, regardless 
 of sex, were presented by men. Can any effect of this practice 
 be traced in the extant plays ? First, Greek drama also was 
 not unacquainted with the spectacle of masculine performers 
 impersonating women disguised as men or vice versa; cf. 
 the role of Mnesilochus in Aristophanes' Women at the Thes- 
 mophoria, and the chorus and several characters in the same 
 
 * Cf. Seneca's Agamemnon, vss. 981 ff.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF ACTORS 189 
 
 author's Women in Council. But in the Greek theater this 
 occurrence was too rare to be significant. Secondly, it has 
 frequently been observed that the heroines of Greek tragedy are 
 as a rule lacking in feminine tenderness and diffidence and are 
 prone to such masculine traits as boldness, initiative, and self- 
 reliance. On the other hand the women who have speaking 
 parts in comedy are usually either impaired in reputation or 
 disagreeable in character — courtesans, ravished maidens, shrews, 
 scolds, jealous wives, intriguing mothers-in-law, etc.^ Now these 
 facts are doubtless the resultant of many factors. For example, 
 tragedy has little direct use for the modest violet type of woman, 
 and the sharp demarcation between dramatic genres (seep. 201, 
 below) tended to prevent their indirect employment in scenes 
 meant merely to relieve the tragic intensity of the main plot. 
 Likewise, social conditions must have had a great deal to do with 
 the exclusion of women of unblemished reputation and attractive 
 years from the comic stage (see pp. 277-79, below). Nevertheless 
 when all is said I consider it quite possible that the representation 
 of women by men actors was partially responsible for such a 
 choice and for the dehneation of female roles. At least male 
 performers must have found such types of women much easier 
 to impersonate. Finally, if children were represented only in pan- 
 tomime and their words spoken by a grown actor from behind the 
 scenes (see pp. 179 f., above) we can understand why girls never 
 have a speaking part and one reason why the words put in boys' 
 mouths are often too old for them. A competent critic has 
 declared: "Euripides' children do not sing what is appropriate to 
 children in the circumstances supposed but what the poet felt for 
 the children and for the situations. In particular the song of the 
 boy over the dead body of his mother in the Alcestis is one of his 
 grossest errors in dehneation. "^ This situation, also, is capable of 
 several explanations, but who will deny that the practice of 
 having children's parts declaimed by adults belongs among them ? 
 
 ' Cf. Lounsbury, Shakespeare as a Dramatic Artist, pp. iii f. 
 
 ' Cf. U. von Wilamowitz-Mollendorff, Herakles', I, 119, note, and Euripides' 
 Alcestis, vss. 393 ff.
 
 IQO THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 In France the court compelled actors to furnish amusement 
 and the church damned them for complying. In Rome the 
 actors were slaves or freedmen and belonged to the dregs of 
 society. Only in Greece did no stigma rest upon the histrionic 
 profession. As we have seen (pp. 13 if., above) the actors were 
 active participants in a religious service and during the festival 
 performances their persons were quasi-sacrosanct. As such, they 
 were entitled to and received the highest respect, and their 
 occupation was considered an honorable one. Consequently, 
 they were often the confidants and associates of royalty and 
 wielded no mean influence in the poKtics of their native lands. 
 In particular as they traveled from court to court they often 
 acted as intermediaries in diplomatic negotiations. Thus 
 Aeschines, an ex-actor, was almost as influential in the Athenian 
 faction which favored the Macedonians as was Demosthenes in 
 that which opposed them. And though the latter in his speeches 
 indulged in frequent sneers at Aeschines' theatrical career, this 
 was not on account of his profession per se but because Demos- 
 thenes claimed he had been a failure at it. Aeschines and Aris- 
 todemus, another actor, twice went as ambassadors from Athens 
 to Philip, king of Macedonia, with whom the latter was persona 
 gratissima. Thettalus was an especial favorite of Alexander the 
 Great, who sent him as an emissary to arrange his marriage with 
 a Carian satrap's daughter. When Thettalus was defeated by 
 Athenodorus at Tyre in 332 B.C. Alexander said that he would 
 rather have lost a part of his kingdom than to have seen Thettalus 
 defeated. These men were contemporaries of Aristotle, who 
 declared in his Rhetoric that in his day actors counted for more 
 in the dramatic contests than the poets. ^ The huge fees that 
 they received are often mentioned. In view of all this it is not 
 surprising that they arrogated to themselves many hberties. 
 Aristotle states that Theodorus always insisted upon being the 
 first actor to appear in a play, doubtless on a principle analagous 
 to that which Mr. William Archer^' mentions: ''Where it is 
 
 ^ Cf. Aristotle's Rhetoric 1403633, quoted as the motto of this chapter. 
 ' Cf . Play-making, p. 1 29.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF ACTORS 191 
 
 desired to give to one character a special prominence and pre- 
 dominance, it ought, if possible, to be the first figure on which 
 
 the eye of the audience falls The solitary entrance of 
 
 Richard III throws his figure into a relief which could by no 
 other means have been attained." This anecdote may mean 
 merely that Theodorus assumed the role of the first character, 
 however insignificant, in order to appear first upon the scene. 
 But some have thought that he actually had the plays modified 
 so that the character which he was to enact might appear first. 
 Even upon the first hypothesis, however, slight alterations might 
 sometimes have been necessary. For example, if he wished to 
 impersonate Antigone in such a play as Euripides' Phoenician 
 Maids and if no passage were provided Hke vss. 88-102 to enable 
 the actor to shift from Jocaste, who opens the tragedy, to Anti- 
 gone (see pp. 177 f., above), then perhaps the simplest solution 
 would have been to interpolate a few such lines for this purpose. 
 But however this may have been in Theodorus' case there can 
 be little doubt that the actors did sometimes take such liberties 
 with their dramatic vehicles. To correct this abuse Lycurgus, 
 who was finance minister of Athens in the last third of the fourth 
 century B.C. and "completed" the theater (see p. 69, above), is 
 said to have had state copies of old plays provided from which 
 the actors were not allowed to deviate; and Lycon was fined ten 
 talents, which Alexander paid, for having interpolated one line 
 in a comedy. 
 
 Naturally most actors were peculiarly adapted to certain 
 types of characters. Thus Nicostratus was most successful as a 
 messenger, Theodorus in female roles, etc. The interesting 
 significance of the parts borne by Apollogenes, an actor of the 
 third century, has only recently been recognized. At Argos he 
 impersonated Heracles and Alexander, at Delphi, Heracles and 
 Antaeus, at Dodona, Achilles, etc., in addition to winning a 
 victory in boxing at Alexandria. Evidently this actor was a 
 pugiHst for whom roles and plays were carefully chosen which 
 would display his physique and strength to the best advantage. 
 Now these special predilections and accomplishments of the
 
 192 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 actors, as well as their physical quahties, must often have run 
 afoul of the constant doubhng and the occasional splitting of 
 roles as required by the restricted number of players. Professor 
 Rees makes good use of such points in arguing against the three- 
 actor limitation in fifth-century tragedy/ But in such matters 
 custom is all-important; we cannot be sure to what extent the 
 Greeks were offended by infelicities of this nature. In my 
 opinion such considerations are not strong enough to break down 
 the arguments drawn from dramatic technique (see pp. 173-82, 
 above). 
 
 I ought not to conclude this chapter without a few words 
 concerning the manner in which act divisions arose from the 
 alternation of choral odes and histrionic passages in ancient 
 drama. The earliest tragedies, such as Aeschylus' Suppliants 
 and Persians, began with the entrance song of the chorus, which 
 is called the parodus. In later plays it was customary for one 
 or more actors to appear before the choral parodus in a so-called 
 prologue. The first instance of this which is known to us 
 occurred in Phrynichus' Phoenician Women (476 B.C.). After 
 the parodus came an alternation of histrionic scenes {episodes) 
 and choral odes (stasima), concluding with a histrionic exodus. 
 These are nontechnical definitions and do not cover every varia- 
 tion from type, but they will suffice for present purposes. Thus 
 Aeschylus' Prometheus Bound falls into the following divisions: 
 prologue, vss. 1-127; parodus, vss. 128-92; first episode, vss. 
 193-396; first stasimon, vss. 397-435; second episode, vss. 436- 
 525; second stasimon, vss. 526-60; third episode, vss. 561- 
 886; third stasimon, vss. 887-906; exodus, vss. 907-1093. 
 Though the number of stasima (and of episodes) was more 
 usually three, as in this case, there was originally no hard-and- 
 fast rule on the subject. In several plays there were four stasima 
 and four episodes, and in Sophocles' Antigone five of each. 
 Therefore in a normal tragedy like the Prometheus the number of 
 histrionic divisions would be five — prologue, three episodes, and 
 exodus. In the early plays which had no prologue the histrionic 
 
 ' Cf . The So-called Rule of Three Actors in the Classical Greek Drama, pp. 45-60.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF ACTORS 193 
 
 divisions fell to four — three episodes and an exodus. In several 
 of the later plays, on the other hand, they rose to six, and in the 
 Antigone to seven. As the lack of connection between chorus 
 and plot increased and the size and importance of choral odes 
 diminished (see pp. 126 f., 136-49, and 168, above) there was the 
 more excuse for ignoring the choral elements and for concen- 
 trating attention upon the histrionic divisions. The develop- 
 ment of comedy led to similar results. The composition of an 
 Old Comedy has already been discussed (see pp. 40 f., above). 
 So long as the agon and the parabasis persisted, the structural 
 differences between tragedy and comedy were unmistakable; 
 but with the disappearance of these features early in the fourth 
 century (see pp. 42 f., above) the assimilation of the two genres 
 rapidly proceeded. Moreover, as the activity of the comic 
 chorus was confined to entr'actes and as their entertainment 
 became so foreign to the plot as no longer to be written in the 
 manuscripts but merely to be indicated by XOPOT (see pp. 147 f.), 
 this tendency to ignore the choral element in favor of the his- 
 trionic became pronounced. Now the number of histrionic 
 divisions in Old Comedy and in New Comedy was limited to 
 five even less frequently than in tragedy. And in either literary 
 genre there was no more reason for such a restriction, whether on 
 historical or technical grounds, than there would be in modern 
 drama. In every period such a detail depends, or ought to be 
 left to depend, entirely upon the requirements of the story 
 chosen for dramatic presentation. Nevertheless, since the his- 
 trionic divisions in tragedy were more usually five and since 
 comedy fell more and more under the domination of tragedy, 
 the rigid principle was at last set up for both tragedy and comedy 
 that each play should contain five acts, no more, no less; cf. 
 Horace's pronunciamento : ''Let a play neither fall short of nor 
 extend beyond a fifth act." 
 
 It should be observed, however, that our English word "act" 
 conveys a misleading impression in this connection. The Greek 
 word was simply "part" (nepos) and denoted merely a division 
 of the play as determined by choral divertissement, whether
 
 194 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 written or interpolated. These "parts," therefore, depended 
 upon the more or less accidental and haphazard activity of the 
 chorus and often two or three of them would be required to make 
 up an act in the modern sense. In other words the modern 
 notion of an act as an integral part of the story, marking a 
 definite stage in the unfolding of the plot, was for the most part 
 yet to be developed, especially in comedy. 
 
 The leveling effect of the five-act rule is seen in the modern 
 editions of Plautus and Terence. It is certain that neither four 
 nor any other fixed number of pauses was employed at the 
 premier performances of these dramatists' works. In some cases 
 they seem to have been given continuous representation with 
 neither choral intermezzi nor pauses at the points where the 
 Greek originals had had entr^actes. From this, however, we 
 must not infer that Plautus and Terence did not know where the 
 acts or the ''parts" began and closed. If for no other reason, the 
 recurrence of XOPOT in at least most of the Greek comedies 
 which they were translating and adapting would not have 
 permitted them to be ignorant on this point, for in my opinion, 
 so far as pauses were inserted in the Roman performances, they 
 coincided with the corresponding points of division in the Greek 
 plays. But by this I do not mean that the Latin divisions were 
 always as numerous as the Greek; in my judgment, owing to 
 contamination and other modifying influences they were uni- 
 formly fewer. Moreover, when these comedies were first 
 published for the use of a reading public, it seems that the 
 manuscripts contained no indication of act divisions. Within 
 a century of Terence's death, however, partisans of the five-act 
 dogma were already attempting to force their Procrustean theory 
 upon his works. A later effort of this sort is preserved to us in 
 the commentary of Donatus (fourth century a.d.) and passed 
 into the printed editions, with some modifications, about 
 1496 A.D. Likewise, the Renaissance scholars, obsessed by the 
 tradition of what had come to be considered an inviolable law , 
 proceeded to divide each of Plautus' twenty plays into five acts; 
 of. Pius' edition of 1500 a.d. The divisions in both poets rest
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF ACTORS 19S 
 
 upon no adequate authority and are easily shown to be incorrect. 
 Yet, unfortunately, it is now impossible to re-establish the acts 
 as known to their Latin authors. If we revert to the Greek 
 terminology, however, somewhat more definite results may be 
 obtained, though, even so, agreement is not possible in every 
 case. Technical criteria now at our disposal would indicate 
 that the original "parts" {iieprj) in these comedies ranged from 
 a minimum of two or three to a maximum of seven or eight.
 
 But Aristophanes was at the same 
 time a dramatist contending for a prize, 
 and had no wish to alienate the greater 
 part of his audience.— T. G. Tucker. 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF FESTIVAL ARRANGEMENTS^ 
 
 We have already seen that the performance of plays at 
 Athens was confined to two festivals of Dionysus, and the time 
 when the various dramatic genres began to be presented at each 
 has been stated (see pp. iigf., above). Since the Lenaea came 
 at the end of January (Gamelion), when navigation was not yet 
 considered entirely safe, few strangers were present; and in 
 consequence this festival became more private and intimate, 
 more like a family gathering of the Athenians by themselves. 
 On the contrary the City Dionysia took place toward the end 
 of March (Elaphebolion), when the allies were accustomed to 
 send their tribute to Athens and the city was crowded with 
 visitors from all parts of the Greek world. As a result this 
 occasion was more cosmopoKtan than the other, and every effort 
 was expended to make it as splendid as possible. All this 
 explains an episode in the life of Aristophanes. At the City 
 Dionysia of the year 426 B.C. was produced his Babylonians, in 
 which he represented the Athenian state as a mill where the allies 
 suffered from the tyrannous exactions of Cleon, its manager. 
 Cleon accordingly lodged with the senate an information 
 (ela-a77eXta) charging lese majeste, aggravated by being com- 
 mitted in the presence of strangers {irapovTcov tcjp ^evccv) . There- 
 fore, in his next play, the Acharnians, produced at the Lenaea 
 of 425 B.C., Aristophanes prefaced some frank expressions of 
 opinion with the following statement: "And what I shall say 
 will be dreadful but just, for Cleon will not be able now to malign 
 
 ' In addition to the works mentioned on pp. xvii and xx f., above, cf. A. T. Mui- 
 Tay , On Parody and Paratragoediain Aristophanes (1891); Mazon, "Sur le Proag6n," 
 Revue de Philologie, XXVII (1903), 263 ff.; Rees, "The Significance of the Parodoi 
 in the Greek Theater," American Journal of Philology, XXXII (1911), 377 ff.; 
 Graeber, De Poetarum AUicorum Arte Scaenica (191 1); Robert, Die Masken der 
 neueren attischen Komodie (191 1); and the bibliography listed on p. 31S, below. 
 
 196
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF FESTIVAL ARRANGEMENTS 197 
 
 me for defaming the state to alien ears. For we are alone ; this 
 is the Lenaea, and the aliens are not yet here, nor the tribute from 
 the federated states, nor our allies; but we are alone now.'"^ 
 Similarly, Demosthenes tried to make Midias' assault upon him 
 at the City Dionysia of 350 B.C. seem more heinous by pointing 
 out that it was committed "in the presence of many, both strangers 
 and citizens."^ 
 
 Since we have no exact information as to when the City 
 Dionysia began or ended, we are in doubt as to its duration.^ 
 But it is probable that it lasted for six days, certainly five. The 
 first day was occupied with the procession, as already described 
 (see pp. 121 f., above). The second day, and possibly the third, 
 was devoted to dithyrambs, the literary type from which tragedy 
 had sprung. There were five choruses of boys and five of men, 
 each of the ten tribes annually standing sponsor for one chorus. 
 We happen to know that the contest of men was added to this 
 festival in 508 B.C. Inasmuch as each chorus consisted of fifty 
 amateur performers, it will be seen that no inconsiderable por- 
 tion of the free population received every year a musical training 
 which could not but enhance their appreciation of the choral and 
 lyrical parts of the dramas and likewise improve the quaHty of the 
 material from which the dramatic choruses were chosen. 
 
 The last three days of the festival seem to have been given" 
 over to the dramatic performances, but just what the arrange- 
 ments were is not known. In Aristophanes' Birds, vss. 786 ff., 
 the chorus, praising the use of wings, remarks that "if one of you 
 spectators were so provided and became wearied with the tragic 
 choruses, he might fly away home and dine and then fly back 
 again to us." From this passage it has been plausibly concluded 
 that the comedies came later in the day than the tragedies. It 
 would seem as if the three tragic playwrights must have produced 
 
 ^ Cf. Acharnians, vss. 501 ff., Starkie's edition, excursus V, and Croiset, 
 Aristophanes and the Political Parties at Athens, pp. 42 ff. (Loeb's translation). 
 
 * Cf. Demosthenes' Against Midias, § 74. 
 
 3 It probably began upon the tenth day of Elaphebolion (cf. Adams, Trans- 
 actions of American Philological Association, XLI [1910], 60 ff.) and closed on the 
 fifteenth.
 
 198 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 their plays on as many successive mornings, the comedies fol- 
 lowing later each day in similar rotation. 
 
 It is well known that at the City Dionysia each of three 
 tragic poets brought out four plays in a series, three tragedies 
 and one satyric drama (see pp. 23 f., above). Such a group was 
 termed a didascalia ("teaching")- It was Aeschylus' frequent 
 practice to have all four plays treat different aspects of the same 
 general theme, the levity of the concluding piece counterbalan- 
 cing somewhat the seriousness of the three tragedies. In that 
 case the set of four was called a tetralogy; but if the satyric 
 drama dealt with a different topic than the tragedies, the latter 
 were said to form a trilogy. No tetralogy or didascalia is extant 
 and only one trilogy, the Agamemnon, Libation-Bearers, and 
 Eumenides, which Aeschylus brought out in 458 B.C. The satyric 
 drama in this series is not preserved but was entitled Proteus. 
 It may have dealt with the shipwreck of Menelaus, Agamemnon's 
 brother, on his return from Troy. After Aeschylus the four 
 pieces in a didascalia were usually unrelated in subject. 
 
 According to canonical doctrine satyric drama was the inter- 
 mediate stage in the development of tragedy from the dithyramb 
 and was retained in the festival program as a survival. Within 
 recent years, as this hypothesis has been subjected to searching 
 criticism, its supports have slowly crumbled away. My own 
 opinion is that tragedy and the satyr-play are independent 
 offshoots of the dithyramb (see pp. 1-35, above). In either case, 
 since the dramatic performances were part of a Bacchic festival 
 and since the Bacchic element had long since been discarded by 
 tragedy (see p. 123, above), it is no doubt true that the satyric 
 drama was in the program partly in order to keep up the rehgious 
 associations, as revealing its connection with Dionysus more 
 plainly than did mature tragedy. Nevertheless the same 
 tendencies which had broken down the exclusively Dionysiac 
 themes in tragedy were at work here also and would not be 
 denied. We have already seen (see pp. 126 f., above) how the 
 writers of satyr-plays arbitrarily superimposed Silenus and a 
 chorus of satyrs upon some non-Dionysiac subject. Both in
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF FESTIVAL ARRANGEMENTS 199 
 
 Euripides' Cyclops and in Sophocles' Trackers, the sole extant 
 representatives of the genre, the Bacchic element is restricted to 
 these followers of his, and Dionysus himself figures only as he is 
 apostrophized or mentioned by them. In 438 B.C. Euripides 
 introduced a further innovation by bringing out the Alcestis as 
 the last play in his didascalia. Neither Silenus nor the chorus of 
 satyrs appears in this piece, the theme being entirely non- 
 Dionysiac; but the drunkenness of Heracles and the brutal 
 frankness in the quarrel between Admetus and his father suggest 
 the spirit of the old satyric drama, while the happy ending and 
 the humor remind us of a comedy. These incongruities and the 
 exceptionable circumstances under which the play was produced 
 have occasioned the controversy, which began in antiquity and 
 still continues, as to how the Alcestis is to be classified as a 
 literary type. Is it a tragedy, comedy, satyr-play, tragi-comedy, 
 melodrama, Schauspiel, Tendenz-Schrift, or what?^ How far 
 Euripides' innovation in substituting such a play for the usual 
 satyric drama may have met with the approval and emulation 
 of his fellow-playwrights we have no means of knowing; but 
 an extant inscription of a century later shows that the satyr-play 
 had then been degraded still further (Fig. 76). At the City 
 Dionysia of 341, 340, and 339 B.C. the poets were no longer 
 compelled each to conclude his group of pieces in the old way, 
 but a single satyric drama was performed, before the tragedies 
 began at all, as ample recognition of the Dionysiac element which 
 had once been all-pervasive in the festivals. 
 
 During the latter part of its history five comic poets competed 
 each year at the City Dionysia, and each presented but a single 
 play; there is some reason for believing that the number was five 
 also at the beginning, but possibly there were then only three 
 competitors. At any rate there were certainly not more than 
 three for a while during the Peloponnesian War (431-404 B.c.).^ 
 "When the comedies were restricted to three they were naturally 
 
 ' Cf. the Introduction to Hayley's edition, pp. xxiii ff. 
 
 ' Cf. Capps, in Classical Philology, I (1906), 219, note on 1. 5, and Wilhelm, 
 Urkunden dramatischer Au^ffiihrungen in Athen, pp. 195 £f.
 
 200 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 performed one on each of the last three days, after that day's 
 tragedies and satyr-play, as we have just seen. But what the 
 arrangement was when the larger number was presented is not 
 so obvious. Was a second comedy crowded into the program 
 on two of the days ? Or were comedies produced also on the 
 second and third days of the festival, after the dithyrambic 
 choruses ? The latter alternative would be my choice, and this 
 would explain why in the inscriptional records the comedies 
 preceded the tragedies, though in the chronological sequence of 
 the last three days they followed them. When Aristophanes 
 brought out his Women in Council he was so unfortunate in the 
 drawing of lots as to be forced to perform his play first in the 
 series of comedies. Therefore he had his chorus say (vss. 
 ii58ff.): 
 
 Let it nothing tell against me, that my play must first begin; 
 See that, through the afterpieces, back to me your memory strays; 
 Keep your oaths, and weU and truly judge between the rival plays. 
 Be not Hke the wanton women, never mindful of the past. 
 Always for the new admirer, always fondest of the last. 
 
 [Rogers' translation] 
 
 This close juxtaposition of tragedy and comedy at the same 
 festival must have strengthened a practice which in any case 
 would have been inevitable, viz., that the comic poets should 
 parody Hues, scenes, or even whole plots of their tragic confreres. 
 In a community as small as Athens it was impossible that advance 
 knowledge of a tragic plot or even the exact wording of striking 
 lines should not sometimes reach the ears of a comic playwright 
 and be turned to skilful account by him. Even when the secret 
 had been guarded until the very moment of presentation, it must 
 have been feasible for a comedian whose play was to be produced 
 on a subsequent day of the festival to incorporate a few lines or a 
 short scene in his comedy overnight. But this is mere theorizing, 
 for I remember no passage where such "scoops" are mentioned. 
 The parodying of tragedies brought out at previous festivals, 
 however, was exceedingly common. The extant plays preserve 
 some instances of this, and the scholiasts tell us of many others.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF FESTIVAL ARRANGEMENTS 20l 
 
 Parodies of no less than thirty-three of Euripides' tragedies are 
 preserved in the remains of Aristophanes' comedies. But the 
 situation is too well known to merit further amplification here, 
 cf. Murray, op. cii., passim. 
 
 On the other hand, though tragedy, comedy, and satyric 
 dramas were juxtaposed at the festivals, they were not inter- 
 mingled. The lines of demarcation were kept distinct. With 
 very rare exceptions, like the Alcestis, the audience always knew 
 what kind of a play it was about to hear, and (what was even 
 more important) the poet always knew what kind of a play he 
 was supposed to write. Of course, this is not the same as saying 
 that all Greek tragedies were alike or that all Greek comedies 
 seemed to be poured from the same mold. Within the type there 
 was room for the greatest diversity, but the types did not overlap 
 or borrow much from one another. This practice was a natural 
 outgrowth of the Greek love for schematizing which displayed 
 itself in the formulation and observance of rigid laws in every 
 branch of art and especially in literature; in the field of drama 
 this tendency was strengthened by the festival arrangements. 
 Contrast with this the modern confusion of all the arts and 
 all the Uterary genres which, in the sphere of drama, results 
 in plays harder to classify than Polonius' "tragical-comical- 
 historical-pastorals . ' ' This is one of the things that Voltaire had 
 in mind when he declared that Shakespeare wrote like " a drunken 
 savage." 
 
 The simpHcity of the Greek effect is aptly characterized by 
 Mr. Clayton Hamilton:'' "Although the ancient drama fre- 
 quently violated the three unities of action, time, and place, it 
 always preserved a fourth unity, wliich we may call unity of 
 mood." Possibly regard for this fourth unity caused Euripides 
 to employ the deus ex machina at the conclusion of his Iphigenia 
 among the Taiirians. It is well known that this is the play that 
 lends least support to the frequent charge that Euripides used 
 the deus to cut the inextricable tangle of his plots. Here the 
 jfinal, insurmountable difficulty is of the poet's own choosing. 
 
 ' Cf. The Theory of the Theater, p. ii8.
 
 202 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 Orestes and his party have at last got their vessel free of the shore, 
 and all the playwright needed to do was to allow them to sail on 
 in safety and thus bring his play to a close. But arbitrarily he 
 causes a contrary wind and sea to drive their ship back to land, 
 making divine intervention indispensable. Of course this device 
 enabled him to overleap the unity of time and bring events far in. 
 the future within the limits of his dramatic day, and frequently 
 that was all that Euripides had in mind in having recourse to 
 this artifice (see p. 295, below). But in the present instance I 
 think he had an additional motive, one which has a place in 
 this discussion. The gist of the matter is well expressed by 
 Mr. Prickard:^ *'If the fugitives had simply escaped, snapping 
 their fingers at Thoas, the ending would have been essentially 
 comic : perhaps, after the grave and pathetic scenes which have 
 gone before, we should rather call it burlesque. But the appear- 
 ance of the deus ex machina, a device not itself to be praised, 
 enables the piece to be finished after all with dignity and eleva- 
 tion of feeling." 
 
 In connection with the foregoing arises another point : when 
 the fine between tragedy and comedy was drawn so sharply, we 
 should hardly expect to find the writer of tragedies and the writer 
 of comedies united in one and the same person. As a matter of 
 fact not a single case is known in all Greek drama. "The sock 
 and buskin were not worn by the same poet " ;^ the Greek theater 
 knew no Shakespeare. This very versatility of the Elizabethan 
 poet helps to explain why his tragedies contain much that is 
 humorous and his comedies much that is painful, a characteristic 
 which has been so offensive to his French critics. Very similar 
 is the situation among the actors. At the City Dionysia, begin- 
 ning with 449 B.C., a prize was awarded to the best actor in the 
 tragedies brought out each year, and about 325 B.C. a contest 
 was estabhshed for comic actors. At the Lenaea, prizes were 
 offered for comic and for tragic actors from about 442 B.C. and 
 about 433 B.C., respectively. These arrangements would tend 
 
 ' Cf. his Aristotle on the Art of Poetry, pp. 48 f. 
 
 ' Cf. Dryden, Dramatic Essays (Everyman's Library edition), p. 20.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF FESTIVAL ARRANGEMENTS 203 
 
 still further to keep each actor within his specialty. No per- 
 former in both tragic and comic roles is indubitably known until 
 Praxiteles, who performed at Delphi in 106 B.C. as a comedian 
 and nine years later as a tragedian. Two other instances 
 occurred a little later. In the second century B.C. Thymoteles 
 seems to have been both a tragic poet and a comic actor. These 
 examples exhaust the list in pre-Christian times. 
 
 In the preceding discussion some changes in the festival 
 program have already been mentioned, for the program was not, 
 like Athena, fully grown at birth. For example, the requirement 
 that each tragic poet should present three tragedies and a satyric 
 drama in a group did not go back to the introduction of tragedy 
 by Thespis in 534 B.C. and cannot be established for any poet 
 before Aeschylus. It is likely that this regulation, together with 
 the main outlines of the program as known at a later period, 
 dates from about 501 B.C., when the festival seems to have been 
 reorganized (see p. 319, below). This is the period with which 
 the ofl&cial records began, when also the kosijlol, that is, the vol- 
 unteer performances from which formal comedy was derived, 
 were first added to the festival. In addition to the changes that 
 have already been noticed we may now mention the following: 
 It was not customary for plays to be performed more than once at 
 Athens. It is true that the more successful plays in the city might 
 be repeated at the Rural Dionysia, which were held in the vari- 
 ous demes (townships) during the month Posideon (December), 
 and that some of these provincial festivals, notably that at the 
 Piraeus, were almost as splendid as those at Athens itself; yet 
 the fact remains that at Athens the repetition of a play was an 
 exceptional thing. Thus, when Aeschylus died in 456 B.C., honor 
 was shown him by the provision that his plays might be brought 
 out in rivalry with the new productions of living tragedians, and 
 they are said to have won the prize in this way several times. ^ 
 Th.is explains what Aeschylus is represented as saying in Aris- 
 tophanes' Frogs (vss. 866 ff.), where he protests against contend- 
 ing with Euripides ''here in Hades" on the ground that they will 
 
 ' Cf. Philostratus, Apollonius of Tyana, p. 245.
 
 204 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 not be on equal terms, "for his poetry," he says, "died with him 
 [and came down to Hades], so that he will be able to recite it, 
 but mine did not die with me." There is here not only the 
 obvious meaning that Aeschylus thought his poems had achieved 
 an immortaHty which Euripides' never could, but also an allu- 
 sion to the special privileges bestowed upon them. Again, the 
 Athenians conceived such an admiration for the parabasis of 
 Aristophanes' Frogs, doubtless on account of the sensible and 
 patriotic advice therein given the citizens to compose their 
 differences, that the play was given a second time by request. 
 As a result of such precedents, in 386 B.C. the repetition of one 
 old tragedy was given a regular place in the program, as a 
 separate feature, however, no longer in rivalry with new works; 
 and in 339 B.C. this arrangement was extended also to old 
 comedies. It must further be remembered that the program 
 was susceptible of considerable modification from year to year. 
 When a single satyr-play was brought out as a substitute for one 
 in each poet's group (see p. 199, above), naturally each play- 
 wright presented three tragedies and nothing more, and this 
 actually happened in 341 B.C. But in the following year each of 
 the three poets produced but two tragedies. The program was 
 therefore flexible enough to meet special needs or emergencies. 
 
 It must be understood that the discussion of the festival pro- 
 gram up to this point applies as a whole to the City Dionysia 
 alone and only in part to the Lenaea. For example, at the 
 Lenaea there were no dithyrambic contests, and there is no 
 evidence for the presentation of old plays or even of satyric 
 dramas. Our most tangible information is an inscription for 
 the years 419 and 418 B.C. (seep. 184, above). On these occasions 
 there were two poets and each brought out two tragedies. 
 
 Possibly the first thing, apart from physical conditions, 
 which would strike the modern theatergoer's attention after 
 entering an ancient Greek theater would be the fact that he was 
 provided with no playbill. For this lack he received compen- 
 sation in three ways: The first was the proagon {irpoaycov; irpo 
 "before "-1-0,70)1' "contest"), i.e., the ceremony before the contest.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF FESTIVAL ARRANGEMENTS 205 
 
 This was held in the nearby Odeum on the eighth day of the 
 month ElapheboHon (end of March), which was probably the 
 second day before the City Dionysia proper began. In this 
 function the poets, the actors (without their masks and stage 
 costumes), the choregi (see pp. 2 7of., below), and the choruses 
 participated. As the herald made announcement each poet and 
 choregus with their actors and chorus presented themselves for 
 public inspection. It was therefore possible for anyone inter- 
 ested, simply by being present on this occasion, to learn what 
 poets were competing, the names of their actors and plays, the 
 order of their appearance, and similar details. Moreover, the 
 mere titles of the plays by themselves would often convey consid- 
 erable information to the more cultured members of the audience. 
 Thus, names like Aeschylus' Seven against Thebes, Sophocles' 
 Oedipus at Colonus, and Euripides' Iphigenia atAulis or Iphigenia 
 among the-TTrwrmn&Aiid\c2iX.e the locale and general theme of the 
 play on their face, and to the more cultivated spectators titles 
 such as Sophocles' Oedipus the King or Euripides' Alcestis would 
 be equally significant. On the other hand, such names as Eurip- 
 ides' Suppliants or Phoenician Maids would be either mystify- 
 ing or misleading, especially if the hearer was well enough versed 
 in Greek drama to remember that Aeschylus and Phrynichus, 
 respectively, had apphed these titles to plays which actually 
 dealt with entirely different incidents. 
 
 The proagon furnished the name and scene for one of Aris- 
 tophanes' (or Philonides') comedies, but unfortunately we have 
 no inkling as to how the theme was treated. In 406 B.C. the 
 news of Euripides' death came from Macedonia just before 
 this ceremony. Sophocles appeared in garments indicative of 
 mourning and had his chorus leave off their accustomed crowns. 
 The spectators are said to have burst into tears. In Plato's 
 Symposium (194B) Socrates is represented as referring to the 
 proagon at the Lenaean festival of the year 416 B.C. as follows: 
 "I should be forgetful, O Agathon, of the courage and spirit 
 which you showed when your compositions were about to be 
 exhibited, when you mounted the platform with your actors and
 
 2o6 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 faced so large an audience altogether undismayed, if I thought 
 you would on the present occasion [a celebration in honor of his 
 first victory] be disturbed by a small company of friends." 
 
 The second compensation for the absence of a playbill was 
 provided within the plays themselves. First, with reference to 
 the imaginary scene of action. The mythological stories which 
 uniformly supplied the tragic playwrights with their themes were 
 always definitely locaHzed, and the tragic poets seemed to feel 
 the necessity of indicating the place of action. This was com- 
 monly done by having an actor refer to "this land of so-and-so," 
 or even address it or some conspicuous object. At the beginning 
 of Sophocles' Electra the aged servant says to Orestes, "This is 
 ancient Argos for which you longed" (vs. 4) ; in the Bacchanals, 
 Dionysus in a typical Euripidean prologue states, "I come to this 
 land of the Thebans" (vs. i); Apollo begins Euripides' Alcestis 
 with the words, "O house of Admetus!" (vs. i); and Eteocles 
 in Aeschylus' Seven against Thebes addresses the spectators, 
 "O citizens of Cadmus" (vs. i). When the scene is changed 
 within a play each locality is clearly identified. Thus at the 
 beginning of Aeschylus' Eumenides, Delphi is indicated as the 
 scene in the usual way; a little later Apollo bids Orestes "go to 
 the city of Pallas" (vs. 79), and still later, when the shift is 
 supposed to have taken place, Orestes enters and says, "O Queen 
 Athena, I come at the bidding of Loxias" (vs. 235). Euripides 
 was most punctilious about this matter : he usually identified his 
 scene within the first five lines and always within the first fifty. 
 Aeschylus and Sophocles were not always so particular: in the 
 Antigone, Thebes is not mentioned until vs. loi ; and in the 
 Persians, though it early becomes apparent that the action is 
 laid in Persia, Susa is not actually shown to be the place of action 
 before vs. 761. On the other hand, Euripides sometimes plays 
 a Httle joke upon his audience; for example, the Andromache 
 begins, " O pride of Asia, city of Thebe, whence I came to Priam's 
 princely halls as Hector's bride," as if the scene were laid in 
 Asia Minor; but in vs. 16 we learn that the scene is really placed 
 inPhthia!
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF FESTIVAL ARRANGEMENTS 207 
 
 In comedy the situation was somewhat different. Except in 
 mythological parodies the stories are independent of tradition 
 and newly invented, and usually are very slightly attached to 
 any definite locality. As a result the plays of Old Comedy are 
 generally thought of, somewhat vaguely, as taking place in 
 Athens, though this fact is seldom expressly stated, and we rarely 
 have any indication as to precisely where in the city the scenic 
 background is supposed to stand. Occasionally we hear of the 
 Pnyx {Acharnians, vs. 20) or Chloe's temple {Lysistrata, vs. 385). 
 But there is not a word in the Clouds or in the Women at the 
 Thesmophoria to show where in Athens Socrates' thinking-shop 
 or Agathon's house is situated. A shift of scene is not uncom- 
 mon. At the beginning of the Frogs, Dionysus visits his brother 
 Heracles. Since no other location is specified, this scene is 
 probably laid in Athens.^ At vs. 182 the orchestra represents 
 the subterranean lake, and at vs. 436 the chorus informs Diony- 
 sus that he has reached Pluto's door (see pp. 88-90, above). 
 
 By the time of New Comedy, unless we are definitely informed 
 to the contrary, the scene is so uniformly laid in Athens that there 
 was no necessity of saying so. It is true that Athens is mentioned 
 in Plautus' The Churl, vss. i ff. : ''Plautus asks for a tiny part of 
 your handsome walls where without the help of builders he may 
 convey Athens," but it is evident that these words were added 
 by the Roman poet to the original and so are no exception to the 
 Greek practice. That the action did customarily take place in 
 Athens is expressly stated in Plautus' Menaechmi, vss. 8 ff . : 
 "And this is the practice of comic poets: they declare that every 
 thing has been done at Athens, so that their play may seem more 
 Greek to you." So thoroughly was this principle ingrained in 
 the playwrights' consciousness that they were in danger of a 
 lapse when they evaded it. Thus Calydon is the imaginary 
 scene of Plautus' The Carthaginian (cf . vs. 94) ; nevertheless at 
 vs. 372 one character says to another, *'If you will but have 
 patience, my master will give you your freedom and make you 
 an Attic citizen," as if they were in Athens! When the poet, 
 
 ^ Cf. note on vs. 38 in Tucker's edition.
 
 2o8 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 as in this instance, deviated from the usual scene of action, he had 
 
 one of the actors, generally the prologus, warn the audience by 
 
 saying, ''This town is Ephesus" (Plautus' The Braggart Captain, 
 
 vs. 88) ; "Diphilus wished this city to be named Cyrene" (Plautus' 
 
 The Fisherman's Rope, vs. 32), etc. It is only natural that this 
 
 same period should witness the rise of the convention that the 
 
 side entrance (parodus) at the spectators' right led to the harbor 
 
 or the market place and that at their left into the country, since 
 
 the scene was regularly placed in Athens and since these were the 
 
 actual topographical relationships in the Athenian theater (see 
 
 p. 233, below). So firmly was this convention estabhshed that in 
 
 Plautus' Amphitruo, Thebes, an inland town, is represented as 
 
 having a harbor Uke Florence, Milan, Rome, etc., in Shakespeare, 
 
 or as Bohemia has a seacoast in The Winter's Tale. 
 
 But the plays notJonly informed the audience where the 
 
 scene was laid, but also made known the identity of the dramatic 
 
 characters. It is obvious that the first character to appear 
 
 would have to state his own name with more or less directness 
 
 and then introduce the next character. The latter he might do 
 
 {a) by announcing bluntly "Here comes so-and-so," {h) by 
 
 addressing the newcomer by name, (c) by himself inquiring his 
 
 name and so eliciting his identity, or {d) by loudly summoning 
 
 him out of the house or from a distance. All four of these means 
 
 are actually resorted to. Now the earhest Greek plays have no 
 
 prologue, but begin with the entrance song of the chorus (the 
 
 parodus, see p. 192, above) . Accordingly, in Aeschylus' Persians 
 
 the very first words are intended to reveal the personnel of the 
 
 chorus: 
 
 We are the Persian watchmen old, 
 
 The guardians true of the palace of gold. 
 
 Left to defend the Asian land, 
 
 When the army marched to Hellas' strand. 
 
 [Blackie's translation] 
 
 At the conclusion of their ode, as Atossa enters they address her 
 
 as follows: 
 
 Mistress of the low-zoned women, queen of Persia's daughters, hail! 
 Aged mother of King Xerxes, wife of great Darius, hail! 
 
 [Blackie's translation],
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF FESTIVAL ARRANGEMENTS 209 
 
 thus removing all possibility of doubt as to the identity of the new 
 arrival. In this connection it ought to be said that introducing 
 an actor did not necessarily involve a proper name ; often it was 
 enough to indicate the station, occupation, or relationship of the 
 new character. This rule appUes not only to the humbler folk, 
 such as messengers, herdsmen, nurses, heralds, etc. — in fact 
 Sophocles usually ignored the entrance of servants, since their 
 costume showed their position clearly enough — but it sometimes 
 applies also to those of the highest rank, as in this instance to 
 Atossa. 
 
 Aeschylus' earher play, the Suppliants, resembles the Persians 
 in having no prologue, and so at vs. 12 of the parodus the 
 choreutae disclose their identity by declaring that Danaus is 
 their father. Moreover, since Danaus enters the orchestra 
 simultaneously with the chorus, this statement serves to intro- 
 duce him also, though he has no chance to speak until vs. 176. 
 When he does speak, however, he makes assurance doubly sure 
 by addressing the chorus as his *' children." Still again, in the 
 fourth-century Rhesus, which also has no prologue, the chorus 
 marches in and summons Hector by name from his quarters 
 (vs. 10). 
 
 Thus from the fact that the early plays had no prologues, 
 there grew up the practice of having the chorus (or coryphaeus) 
 introduce not merely the first actor but every new character, 
 as he appeared. For example, when the king of Argos makes his 
 entrance in the Suppliants he engages in conversation with the 
 Danaids, ignoring their father, and in reply to their question 
 declares his name and station (vss, 247 ff.). Originally this 
 technique was doubtless due in part also to the exigencies of 
 the one-actor period (see p. 165, above), and it continued to 
 be the regular practice, even after prologues were en regie, in all 
 the plays of Aeschylus and in the earlier ones of Sophocles 
 and Euripides. In comedy this method of procedure was less 
 common, partly because this was no longer the usual convention 
 in contemporaneous tragedy and partly because comedy closely 
 approximates the manners of everyday Ufe, which do not indorse
 
 2IO THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 this kind of introduction. When employed in comedy it was 
 often intended to give a tone of tragic parody. For instance, in 
 Aristophanes' Acharnians, vss. 1069 f., the approach of a mes- 
 senger is announced by the chorus as follows: "Lo, here speeds 
 one 'with bristled crest' as though to proclaim some message 
 dire," the tragic tone of which in the original is unmistakable/ 
 Phrynichus' Phoenician Women was the first play which 
 we know to have had a prologue (476 B.C.). Aeschylus' Seven 
 against Thebes has the earliest extant prologue (467 B.C.). Of 
 course, this change in the economy of the play involved a change 
 also in dramatic technique. Now the entrance of actors preceded 
 that of the chorus. If one actor came alone he had to introduce 
 himself, as Eteocles does in the Seven: ''If we succeed, the credit 
 belongs to heaven; but if we fail, Eteocles alone will loudly be 
 assailed throughout the town." If two actors enter together 
 at the beginning of the play they may by alternately addressing 
 each other by name make their identity clear to the audience, 
 as Cratus and Hephaestus do in Aeschylus' Prometheus Bound. 
 Moreover, before his exit Cratus calls Prometheus, whom he has 
 helped to nail to the rocky background, by name (vs. 85). We 
 have seen that when the chorus opened a play they introduced 
 the actors who foUowed them. It would be natural that when 
 the relative position of actors and chorus was interchanged the 
 technique of introduction should also be reversed ; in other words, 
 that one of the actors in the prologue should now introduce the 
 on-coming chorus as the latter had previously introduced the 
 actors. This actually occurs in this play: when the choreutae 
 appear, the bound Prometheus addresses them as "children of 
 Tethys and Oceanus," vss. 136-40. The same artifice recurs in 
 Aeschylus' Libation-Bearers, vss. 10-16 (see below). But it is 
 self-evident that this manner of introducing the chorus would 
 seldom be satisfactory. In truth, as the chorus gradually but 
 unmistakably lost its importance, its individuality faded away, 
 and the need of formally introducing or identifying it almost 
 disappeared. 
 
 ' Cf. note on these lines in Starkie's edition, and Murray, op. cit., p. 30.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF FESTIVAL ARRANGEMENTS 21 1 
 
 The chorus soon lost the exclusive privilege of introducing 
 actors by addressing them. We have seen that Cratus and 
 Hephaestus exercise this function for one another, and the former 
 does the same for Prometheus. But the poets continued much 
 longer to use the chorus in announcing the approach of a new 
 character. Dr. Graeber {op. ciL, p. 26) claims that Euripides 
 was the first to employ an actor for this purpose. In his Alcestis 
 (vss. 24 ff.), Apollo says: 
 
 Lo, yonder Death; — I see him nigh at hand, 
 Priest of the dead, who comes to hale her down 
 To Hades' halls, etc. [Way's translation] 
 
 But just twenty years before, in Aeschylus' Libation-Bearers 
 (vss. 10-17), Orestes announced the approach of the chorus and 
 Electra as follows : 
 
 What see I now ? What company of women 
 Is this that comes in mourning garb attired ? 
 
 Or am I right in guessing that they bring 
 
 Libations to my father, soothing gifts 
 
 To those beneath ? It cannot but be so. 
 
 I think Electra, mine own sister, comes. 
 
 By waUing grief conspicuous. [Plumptre's translation] 
 
 Possibly Graeber did not consider the last instance formulaic 
 enough to count. But however this may be, at last the actors 
 largely took over the function of announcing new characters, as 
 they previously had that of addressing them. 
 
 In comedy proper names, and consequently introductions, are 
 less important. The names of tragedy were largely traditional 
 and conveyed a meaning to all educated persons in the audience 
 as soon as they heard them (see pp. 127 f ., above) ; but in comedy 
 a character might almost as well have no name at all as one which 
 had no associations for the spectators. Accordingly, Aris- 
 tophanes and Plautus left many of their characters nameless. 
 Of course when well-known citizens of Athens, such as Socrates, 
 Euripides, or Lamachus, were ridiculed, they were definitely 
 named at their first appearance. When a significant comic name
 
 212 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 was employed it was not mentioned until the audience was in a 
 position to appreciate the point of the joke, sometimes not until 
 well along in the play. Thus in Aristophanes' Birds the names 
 of Pisthetaerus (Plausible) and Euelpides (Hopeful) are first 
 mentioned at vss. 644 f . 
 
 I conclude this section with three examples of clever intro- 
 ductions. In Euripides' Bacchanals (vss. 170 ff.) the bhnd 
 Tiresias cries: 
 
 Gate-warder, ho! call Cadmus forth the halls 
 
 .... Say to him that Tiresias 
 
 Seeks him— he knoweth for what cause I come, 
 
 and Cadmus, coming out, replies: 
 
 Dear friend, within mine house I heard thy voice, 
 And knew it, the wise utterance of the wise. 
 
 [Way's translation] 
 
 The announcement of a new character's coming was usually a 
 pretty artificial device, but it is plausibly employed a little 
 farther on (vss. 210 ff.) in this same play, when Cadmus says: 
 
 Since thou, Tiresias, seest not this hght, 
 I will for thee be spokesman of thy words. 
 Lo to these haUs comes Pentheus hastily. 
 
 [Way's translation] 
 
 Again, at the beginning of Sophocles' Oedipus at Colonus, Oedipus 
 inquires: *'To what place have we come, Antigone ? Who will 
 receive the wandering Oedipus?" In a blind man these ques- 
 tions are especially natural, and the use of the proper names 
 identifies the actors' roles. Soon a stranger approaches, and 
 to him Oedipus repeats his first question (vs. 38). His replies 
 reveal the location and significance of the scenic setting. The 
 directness of the play's first line finds a parallel in Shakespeare's 
 Twelfth Night, Act I^ scene 2 : 
 
 Viola. What country, friends, is this ? 
 Captain. This is Illyria, lady. 
 
 »' The third compensation for the lack of a playbill was afforded 
 by the use of masks (see pp. 221 ff., below). In Old Comedy 
 contemporaneous personages were often introduced, and we are
 
 
 Fig. 68. — Mask of a Slave in New 
 
 Comedy. 
 
 See p. 213, n. i 
 
 Fig. 69. — Terra Cotta Mask in 
 Berlin Representing a Courtesan in 
 New Comedy. 
 
 See p. 213, n. i
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF FESTIVAL ARRANGEMENTS 213 
 
 told that their masks were true enough to life for their identity 
 to be recognizable before the actors had uttered a word. Accord- 
 ing to a late anecdote, at the presentation of Aristophanes' 
 Clouds, Socrates rose from his place and remained standing during 
 the whole performance so that strangers in attendance might 
 recognize the original of his double on the stage. In the Knights 
 (vss. 2305.), Aristophanes explains the absence of a portrait- 
 mask for Cleon on the ground that the mask-makers were too 
 apprehensive of that demagogue's vengeance to reproduce his 
 features. But the playbill value of masks was seen more Arily 
 in the case of more or less conventionalized characters, especially 
 in New Comedy (Figs. 68 f.)-^ Pollux, a writer of the second 
 century a.d., describes twenty-eight such masks for tragedy and 
 forty-four for New Comedy. The hair, of varying amount, 
 color, coiffure, and quahty, seems to have been the chief criterion, 
 but dress, complexion, facial features, etc., were also taken into 
 account. The make-up of every stock character was fixed with 
 some definiteness and must have been well known to all intelli- 
 gent spectators. Thus the first ghmpse of approaching actors 
 enabled an ancient audience to identify the red-headed barbarian 
 slave, the pale lovelorn youth, the boastful soldier, the voracious 
 parasite, the scolding wife, the flatterer, the "French" cook, the 
 maiden betrayed or in distress, the stern father, the designing 
 courtesan, etc., much more easily than a playbill of the modern 
 type would have done. — -^ 
 
 If our modern playgoer in ancient Athens were an American 
 and so accustomed to staid conduct in a theatrical audience, he 
 would be surprised at the turmoil of an Athenian performance. 
 A Frenchman, famiHar with the riots which greeted Victor 
 Hugo's Hernani or Bernstein's Apres Moi, would be better 
 prepared for the situation. But in any case he would soon 
 discover that a prize was to be awarded both in tragedy and in 
 comedy, and that each poet had his friends, partisans, and claque. 
 The comic poets at least made no attempt to conceal the fact 
 that there was a prize and that they were "out" for it. In 
 
 ' Figs. 68 f. are taken from Robert, op. cit., Figs. 55 and 77, respectively.
 
 214 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 almost every play Aristophanes' choruses advance reasons, 
 sometimes serious, sometimes fantastic, for favoring their poet 
 and giving him the victory. A few examples will suffice. In 
 the Women in Council (vss. 11545.) the chorus says: 
 
 But first, a slight suggestion to the judges. 
 
 Let the wise and philosophic choose me for my wisdom's sake, 
 
 Those who joy in mirth and laughter choose me for the jests I make; 
 
 Then with hardly an exception every vote I'm bound to win 
 
 Keep your oaths, and well and truly judge between the rival plays. 
 
 [Rogers' translation] 
 
 Birds, vss. iioif.: 
 
 Now we wish to tell the judges, in a friendly sort of way, 
 
 All the blessings we shall give them, if we gain the prize today. 
 
 [Rogers' translation] 
 
 Aristophanes was bald-headed, and therefore the chorus humor- 
 ously appeals for the votes of all those similarly afficted; cf. 
 Peace, vss. 765 ff . : 
 
 It is right then for all, young and old, great and small. 
 
 Henceforth of my side and my party to be, 
 And each bald-headed man should do all that he can 
 
 That the prize be awarded to me. [Rogers' translation] 
 
 The Birds (vss, 1763 ff.) concludes with a sort of "Lo, the con- 
 quering hero comes," an adaptation of Archilochus: 
 
 Raise the joyous Paean-cry, 
 
 Raise the song of Victory. 
 
 lo Paean, alalalae, 
 
 Mightiest of the Powers, to thee! [Rogers' translation], 
 
 where Rogers comments: "These triumphal cries not only 
 celebrate the triumph of Pisthetaerus [in the play], but also 
 prognosticate the victory of Aristophanes in the dramatic compe- 
 tition." Similarly, at the end of the Women in Council (vss. 
 
 1179 ff.): 
 
 Then up with your feet and away to go. 
 
 Off, off to the supper we'll run. 
 With a whoop for the prize, hurrah, hurrah, 
 With a whoop for the prize, hurrah, hurrah, 
 Whoop, whoop, for the victory won! 
 
 [Rogers' translation],
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF FESTIVAL ARRANGEMENTS 215 
 
 where the same editor and translator again comments as follows : 
 "These Bacchic cries {Evoij Evae) do not merely celebrate the 
 success of Praxagora's revolution, they also prognosticate the 
 poet's own success over his theatrical rivals in the Bacchic 
 contest." In tragedy we naturally could not expect anything 
 so frank and undisguised as the first three passages just cited, 
 but for the last two an adequate parallel is found in the tag 
 which Euripides employed at the conclusion of his Iphigenia 
 among the Taurians, Orestes, and Phoenician Maids: 
 
 Hail, revered Victory: 
 
 Rest upon my life; and me 
 
 Crown, and crown eternally. [Way's translation!, 
 
 which the ancient schoHast and modern editors rightly interpret 
 as a prayer for victory in the contest. 
 
 But if this were the extent of the influence which the fact of 
 there being a contest exercised upon Greek drama, the matter 
 might quickly be dismissed. Actually, however, the system in- 
 volved deeper consequences. It is unnecessary here to rehearse 
 the cumbersome process by which the judges were appointed and 
 rendered their decision upon dramatic events (see p. 272, below). 
 While designed to prevent bribery or intimidation, it had two 
 other effects as well. One was that, since we have no reason to 
 believe that the choice of judges was restricted in any way or 
 that they were not selected from the entire free population, the 
 judges would therefore represent the average intelligence and 
 taste, and a poet who cared for victory had to accommodate 
 himself to this situation and could not make his appeal merely to 
 the superior attainments of the favored, intellectual class. 
 Secondly, like most officials at Athens, the judges were liable to 
 be called to account for their conduct. In fact on the second 
 day after the conclusion of the City Dionysia a special popular 
 assembly was held in the theater for the express purpose of airing 
 complaints concerning the management of the festival; and if 
 the judges were thought to have been recreant to their duties or 
 guilty of favoritism, action could be taken against them at that 
 time while the popular anger was still hot and by the votes of
 
 2i6 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 the very persons whose wishes had been balked. The total 
 efifect of these arrangements was to render the judges extremely 
 sensitive to the pubHc's expression of opinion, which was mani- 
 fested by whistling, catcalls, applause, knocking the heels 
 against the seats, etc. Especially in the dithyrambic contests, 
 where tribal rivalry entered in, feehng sometimes ran very high 
 and personal encounters were not infrequent. To quell such 
 riotous disorders it became necessary to appoint certain ofl&cials 
 to maintain order, like sergeants-at-arms. In view of these 
 conditions, it is not surprising that Plato"^ complains that the 
 choice of victor had practically been intrusted to a general show 
 of hands and that the necessity of pleasing the popular taste had 
 corrupted the very poets themselves. Let us consider just how 
 this tendency manifested itself. 
 
 First of all, then, in the Knights, Aristophanes appeals to the 
 audience to impress the judges by a hearty burst of applause; 
 
 cf . vss. 544 fif. : 
 
 So seeing our Poet began 
 In a mood so discreet, nor with vulgar conceit rushed headlong 
 
 before you at first, 
 Loud surges of praise to his honour upraise; salute him, all hands, 
 with a hurst 
 Of hearty triumphant Lenaean applause, 
 That the bard may depart, all radiant and bright 
 To the top of his forehead with joy and delight, 
 Having gained, by your favour , his cause. 
 
 [Rogers' translationl 
 
 But some of Aristophanes' contemporaries stooped far lower than 
 this. In the Wasps he warns the audience not to expect "two 
 slaves scattering nuts among the spectators out of a basket" 
 (vss. 58 f.), animadverting upon a scene in a recent play by 
 EupoHs. Again, in the Plutus (vss. 789 ff .) one of the characters 
 refuses an invitation to have titbits distributed and adds: *'It 
 is beneath the dignity of a poet to scatter figs and deHcacies to 
 the spectators, and on these terms to force their laughter." 
 In the Peace (vss. 962 ff.) he ridiculed such practices by providing 
 every spectator with at least one grain of barley! A more 
 ' Cf. Laws 65QA-C.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF FESTIVAL ARRANGEMENTS 217 
 
 drastic parody was perpetrated by Hegemon, who brought a 
 cloakful of stones into the orchestra to be thrown at the spec- 
 tators! It is only fair to state that Aristophanes did not lower 
 himself by using such unprofessional appeals, but the point 
 which I am urging is confirmed by the practice of his rivals and 
 by the fact that he sometimes explains his own defeats by his 
 unwillingness to resort to their methods. 
 
 From the nature of the case, tragedy could exhibit no appeals 
 so undisguised as the above. To judge from Plato's language, 
 just cited, in some of the tragedies of his day we might have 
 found closer parallels to these artifices of the comic playwrights. 
 Nevertheless, fifth-century tragedy does reveal how the tragic 
 poets tickled the palates of their auditors. They did this in two 
 ways: first, they appealed to national pride by rewriting the 
 mythology in such a way as to assign to Athenian worthies a 
 part which non-Attic tradition did not recognize ; and secondly, 
 they aroused the chauvinistic spirit by the sentiments, whether 
 eulogistic of Athens or derogatory to her enemies, which they 
 placed in their characters' mouths. These points might be illus- 
 trated at great length; it will sufl&ce to mention a few examples. 
 
 According to Attic tradition, Medea sojourned for a while at 
 Athens. Euripides took advantage of this fact in order to intro- 
 duce the Aegeus episode into his Medea and thus bring the Attic 
 king into connection also with an earlier part of the Colchian's 
 career. His character in this play is presented in agreeable 
 contrast to that of both Medea and Jason, and his chivalry in 
 offering Athens to Medea as an asylum from her enemies would 
 bring a thrill of pride to every Attic heart. Furthermore, his 
 presence served to motivate the famous choral ode (vss. 824 ff.) 
 
 beginning : 
 
 O happy the race in the ages olden 
 
 Of Erechtheus, the seed of the blest Gods' line, 
 In a land unravaged, peace-enf olden, 
 
 Aye quafl&ng of Wisdom's glorious wine, etc' 
 
 [Way's translation! 
 
 ' See pp. xviif. above, and cf. Bartsch, Entwickelung des Charakters der Medea 
 in der Tragodie des Euripides (Breslau, 1852), p. 24. For the Boeotian version of 
 the incident in Euripides' Suppliants, cf. Pausanias i. 39. 2.
 
 2i8 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 Athens as a place of refuge for suppliants was a favorite note: 
 the conduct of Demophon in Euripides' Children of Heracles and 
 that of Theseus in Euripides' Suppliants and Sophocles' Oedipus 
 at Colonus must have given great pleasure to an Athenian 
 audience. 
 
 Still more striking are the sentiments of the dramatic char- 
 acters. When Euripides' Children of Heracles was produced, the 
 Spartans were accustomed to invade and ravage Attica every 
 year. To the ancestors of these pillagers lolaus says in the 
 play (vss. 309 ff .) : 
 
 Boys, we have put our friends unto the test: — • 
 If home-return shall ever dawn for you, 
 And your sires' halls and honours ye inherit, 
 Saviours and friends account them evermore, 
 And never against their land lift hostile spear, 
 Remembering this, but hold them of all states 
 Most dear. [Way's translation] 
 
 Think what indignation at such ingratitude must have welled up 
 in every spectator's heart! Later on in the same play (vss. 
 1026 £f.) the Argive king, Eurystheus, whom Athens has just 
 defeated in battle, is made to say : 
 
 But I bestow 
 On Athens, who hath spared, who shamed to slay me, 
 An ancient oracle of Loxias, 
 Which in far days shall bless her more than seems, etc. 
 
 [Way's translation] 
 
 Again, in Euripides' Alcestis (vs. 452) the chorus of Pheraean 
 elders drags in an allusion to "wealthy, splendid Athens," using 
 the adjective \nrapai. Aristophanes said {Acharnians, vs. 640) 
 that the Athenians could refuse nothing to anyone who appHed 
 this epithet to their city. In Euripides' Trojan Women the 
 choreutae are represented as wondering to what part of Greece 
 the allotment of the spoils will send them, and express the wish 
 that they "might come to the renowned, heaven-blest land of 
 Theseus" (vss. 208 f.). There was absolutely no reason why 
 Trojans should entertain such a partiality toward Athens, and 
 this undramatic sentiment is frankly directed to the amor patriae
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF FESTIVAL ARRANGEMENTS 219 
 
 of the playwright's compatriots. In the same poet's Andromache 
 the title-character is made to burst out into the following invec- 
 tive against Sparta (vss. 445 ff.) : 
 
 O ye in all folk's eyes most loathed of men, 
 Dwellers in Sparta, senates of treachery. 
 Princes of lies, weavers of webs of guile, 
 Thoughts crooked, wholesome never, devious all, — 
 A crime is your supremacy in Greece! etc' 
 
 [Way's translation] 
 
 Thus, in effect the mythological heroes were dragged upon the 
 stage before the Athenian populace and forced to afhrm: "Your 
 friends shall be my friends, and your enemies my enemies." 
 
 It would be easy greatly to extend this list, but I shall close 
 with two instances in which it is particularly obvious that 
 dramatic illusion has been sacrificed. In Euripides' Suppliants 
 the Theban herald inquires, ''Who is despot of this land?" 
 which gives Theseus an opportunity to say (vss. 403 ff.) : 
 
 First, stranger, with false note thy speech began, 
 
 Seeking a despot here. Our state is ruled 
 
 Not of one only man: Athens is free. 
 
 Her people in the order of their course 
 
 Rule year by year, bestowing on the rich 
 
 Advantage none ; the poor hath equal right. 
 
 [Way's translation] 
 
 Equally effective with any jingoes in the audience would be the 
 scene in the Persians. Here Aeschylus "pays a pleasant com- 
 pliment to Athenian vanity" by means of the following dialogue 
 (vss. 231 ff.): 
 
 Atossa. Where, O friends, is famous Athens on the broad face of the 
 earth ? 
 
 Chorus. Far in the west : besidethesettingof the lord of light the sun. 
 
 Atossa. This same Athens, my son Xerxes longed with much desire to 
 take. 
 
 Chorus. Wisely: for all Greece submissive, when this city falls, 
 will fall. 
 
 * There is a tradition that this play was not produced in Athens, and some 
 maintain that it was first played at Argos. In that case, in addition to appealing 
 to the convictions of the pro-Athenian, anti-Spartan party in Argos, there must 
 also have been the political motive of gaining converts for that party.
 
 220 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 Atossa. Are they many ? do they number men enough to meet my 
 son? 
 
 Chorus. What they number was sufficient once to work the Medes 
 much harm. 
 
 Atossa. Other strength than numbers have they? wealth enough 
 within themselves ? 
 
 Chorus. They can boast a fount of silver, native treasure to the land. 
 
 Atossa. Are they bowmen good ? sure-feathered do their pointed 
 arrows fly ? 
 
 Chorus. Not so. Stable spears they carry, massy armature of shields. 
 
 Atossa. Who is shepherd of this people? lord (cViSeo-Trd^ei) of the 
 Athenian host ? 
 
 Chorus. Slaves are they to no man living, subject to no earthly name. 
 
 Atossa. How can such repel the onset of a strong united host ? 
 
 Chorus. How Darius knew in Hellas, when he lost vast armies there. 
 
 [Blackie's translation] 
 
 From a dramatic standpoint these questions are out of place, 
 since Atossa's ignorance is improbable and is shown to be feigned 
 by vss. 348 and 474 f . The first question is especially artificial. 
 Nevertheless, point by point Atossa has drawn out all the 
 distinctive points of pride in her son's enemies : their command- 
 ing influence, their numbers, their resources, their national 
 weapon, their freedom, and their previous exploits. Aeschylus 
 valued dramatic verisimilitude less highly than the fervent 
 response that each of these couplets would evoke in every 
 Athenian breast. 
 
 So we see that the tragic playwrights, more subtly than their 
 comic confreres but fully as effectively, knew how to commend 
 themselves to the good graces of the populace by incidents and 
 sentiments no less palatable than the nuts and figs of comedy. 
 If such conduct seem to some to be beneath the dignity of 
 transcendent geniuses like Aeschylus and Euripides, a corrective 
 may be found in the words of Schlegel:^ "The dramatic poet 
 is, more than any other, obliged to court external form and loud 
 applause. But of course it is only in appearance that he thus 
 lowers himself to his hearers; while, in reality, he is elevating 
 them to himself." 
 
 ' Cf. Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature, translated by Black and Morri- 
 son, p. 38.
 
 For to set up the Grecian method 
 amongst us with success, it is absolutely 
 necessary to restore, not only their reli- 
 gion and their polity, but to transport us 
 to the same climate in which Sophocles 
 and Euripides writ; or else, by reason of 
 those different circumstances, several 
 things which were graceful and decent 
 with them must seem ridiculous and 
 absurd to us, as several things which 
 would have appeared highly extravagant 
 to them must look proper and becoming 
 with us. — John Dennis. 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF PHYSICAL CONDITIONS^ 
 
 Whether the use of masks in Greek drama originated in the 
 mere desire for a disguise or in some ritualistic observance has 
 not been definitely established. At any rate their employment 
 was pecuHarly well adapted to the genius of the ancient theater. 
 First of all they enabled a small number of actors to carry a much 
 larger number of parts (see p. 1 73 , above) . Secondly, the mouth- 
 piece is claimed by some to have magnified the sound of the 
 actor's voice, and thus helped to counteract the outstanding fact 
 in the physical arrangement of ancient theaters, viz., their huge 
 size (see p. 121, above). But in particular I wish to stress their 
 bearing upon another feature of the classic drama — the huge- 
 ness of ancient theaters, together with the lack of opera glasses, 
 made impossible an effect which modern audiences highly 
 appreciate. I refer to the delicate play of expression on the 
 mobile faces of the performers. In antiquity such refinements \ 
 could scarcely have been seen outside of the orchestra. A \ 
 partial substitute was occasionally found in a change of mask J 
 
 'In addition to the works mentioned on pp. xvii and xxf., above, and the 
 bibliography listed on pp. 57-59, above, cf. Hense, Die Modificirung der Maske in der 
 griechischcn Tragodie^ (1905); Dignan, The Idle Actor in Aeschylus (1905); Flick- 
 inger, "Scaenica," Transactions of the American Philological Association, "KL, (1909), 
 109 ff.; Robert, Die Masken der neueren attischen Komodie (191 1); Rees, "The 
 Significance of the Parodoi in the Greek Theater," American Journal of Philology, 
 XXXII (1911), 377 ff., and "The Function of the "ilpbdvpov in the Production of 
 Greek Plays," Classical Philology, X (1915), 117 ff.; Harms, De Introitu Perso- 
 narum in Euripidis et Novae Comoediae Fabulis (1914); Mooney, The House-Door 
 on the Ancient Stage (1914); and Rambo, "The Wing-Entrances in Roman 
 Comedy," Classical Philology, X (1915), 411 ff.
 
 2 22 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 during the performance. This became possible if a character 
 was off-stage at the time when his physical or mental state was 
 supposed to be modified by some misfortune or accident. Thus 
 when some one's eyes are dashed out behind the scenes, as in 
 Sophocles' Oedipus the King, Euripides' Eecahe and Cyclops, 
 etc., the mask with which he appears after this event would 
 naturally be different from that previously worn. Similarly in 
 Euripides' Eippolytus that hero, young and handsome, proudly 
 leaves the stage at vs. 1102. At vs. 1342 he is borne back in a 
 dying condition, battered and torn by his runaway team. It 
 is plausible to suppose that this change is reflected by a modifica- 
 tion of his mask and costume. Still another type is seen in 
 Euripides' Phoenician Maids. A seer has demanded that 
 Creon's son be slain to redeem the fatherland, but at vs. 990 
 Creon departs with the assurance that Menoeceus will seek 
 safety in flight. When he reappears at vs. 1308 his brow is said 
 to be clouded by the news that his son had changed his mind and 
 immolated himself for his country's good. 
 
 At best such a change of masks was but a clumsy and inade- 
 quate evasion of the difficulty; yet even this was out of the 
 question whenever the catastrophe befell the character while 
 on the scene. In these cases the dramatists sometimes try to 
 explain the immobility of the actor's mask. An unusually 
 successful instance occurs in Sophocles' Electra. Electra had 
 believed her brother dead, and now she unexpectedly holds him 
 in her arms, alive and well. But not a spark of joy can scintillate 
 across her wooden features either then or later. Her subsequent 
 passivity is motivated by Orestes' request that she continue her 
 lamentations and not allow their mother to read her secret in 
 her radiant face (vss. 1296 ff.). Electra replies that 'old hatred 
 of her mother is too ingrained to allow her countenance to be 
 seen wreathed in smiles, but that her tears will be tears of 
 joy,' which has the merit of explaining also the present unre- 
 sponsiveness of her features. Sometimes the actor's face is 
 hidden at times when strong emotions might be expected to 
 play thereon. For example, in Euripides' Orestes, Electra and
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF PHYSICAL CONDITIONS 223 
 
 the chorus stand in the orchestra and look toward the palace 
 within which Helen is being slain and from which her dying cries 
 issue. Inasmuch as their backs are turned to the audience, the 
 spectators are free to suppose that their faces are working with 
 excitement and horror. This fiction will be destroyed as soon 
 as the performers wheel around toward the front again. Accord- 
 ingly Electra is made to say : 
 
 Beloved dames, into the jaws of death 
 Hermione cometh! Let our outcry cease: 
 For into the net's meshes, lo, she falls. 
 Faij quarry this shall be, so she be trapped. 
 Back to your stations step with quiet look. 
 With hue that gives no token of deeds done: 
 And I will wear a trouble-clouded eye, 
 As who of deeds accomplished knoweth nought. 
 
 [Vss. 13135.; Way's translation] 
 
 Electra's ''trouble-clouded eye" does noj: refer to sorrow at 
 Helen's death but at her brother's evil plight, and has charac- 
 terized her mask from the beginning of the play. 
 
 Being largely balked in this matter, the Greeks character- 
 istically turned the Hmitation to good account. The mask- 
 makers did not attempt to fashion a detailed portrait — that 
 would have suffered from the same difficulty as the naked human 
 physiognomy; like our newspaper cartoonists, they reduced each 
 character to the fewest possible traits, which were suggested in 
 bold strokes and were easily recognizable by even the most remote 
 spectator. Under close inspection representations of ancient 
 masks seem grotesque and even absurd (Figs. 4, 8, 17-21, 66, 
 and 68 f.), but it must be remembered that distance would to 
 a great extent obliterate this impression. Moreover, such masks 
 were admirably adapted to, and at the same time reinforced, the 
 Greek tendency to depict types rather than individuals (see 
 pp. 213 and 266 f.). On the modern stage masks are practically 
 unknown. We must not allow that fact to prejudice us against 
 their possible effectiveness. So respectable an authority as 
 Mr. Gordon Craig declares "the expression of the human face as 
 used by the theaters of the last few centuries" to be ''spasmodic
 
 224 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 and ridiculous," that "the mask is the only right medium of 
 portraying the expressions of the soul as shown through the 
 expressions of the face," and that they "will be used in place of 
 the human face in the near future"; and Mr. Cornford testifies 
 to the baffling, tantalizing effect of a similar device at the 
 Elizabethan Stage Society's representation of Marlowe's Doctor 
 FaustusJ- 
 
 The size of ancient theaters exercised an influence also in 
 another direction. In the absence of arches and domes or 
 modern steel girders it was impossible to roof over such a struc- 
 ture without a multitude of supports to obstruct the view and 
 hearing. Accordingly, the proceedings were exposed to every 
 caprice of the weather. For example, in the time of Demetrius 
 Poliorcetes an unseasonable cold spell and frost broke up the 
 procession. On the other hand the lack of an adequate and 
 easily controlled artificial illuminant such as gas or electricity 
 would have prevented the satisfactory lighting of a roofed 
 theater, could they have built one. Therefore, like the Eliza- 
 bethans, their dramas were presented in the daytime, and the 
 constant harmony between lighting effects and dramatic situa- 
 tion, which to us is a commonplace, was entirely beyond their 
 powers. But since it was also beyond their ken, it doubtless 
 did not bother them especially, and Hke much else was safely 
 left to the well-trained imaginations of the spectators. Thus 
 dramatic characters frequently address the heavenly constella- 
 tions in broad dayhght, and ostensibly the entire action of the 
 Rhesus and much of that in Euripides' Cyclops fall within the 
 hours of night. Nevertheless, we know that the playwrights ^ 
 were sometimes self-conscious concerning this discrepancy. In 
 Aristophanes' Frogs most of the action is supposed to be laid in 
 Hades, and ancient opinion was unanimous in considering that 
 a place of gloom. Since the poet could not count upon the sun 
 going behind a cloud to suit his convenience, he undertook to 
 put the audience on their guard against the incongruity. 
 
 ' Cf. Craig, On the Art of the Tlieatre (1911), pp. 13 and 54 ff., and Cornford, 
 Thucydides Mythisloricus (1907), p. 142, n. 2.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF PHYSICAL CONDITIONS 225 
 
 Toward the beginning of the play, when Dionysus is seeking 
 directions for his journey to the lower world and the scene is 
 still upon earth, Heracles tells him: "Next a breathing sound of 
 flutes will compass you about and you will see a light most fair, 
 even as here'^ (vss. 154 f.). Furthermore, shortly after the action 
 is transferred to the realm of Pluto, the matter is once more 
 called to the spectators' attention by the chorus of initiates 
 singing (vss. 454 f.) : *' We alone have a sun and gracious light." 
 
 So far as I have observed, the tragedians never stooped to 
 apologize for this absurdity, but they were willing, whenever 
 possible, to accommodate themselves to actual conditions. The 
 dramatic exercises are said to have begun at sunrise. Conse- 
 quently, it is not surprising that the action of tragedies like 
 Aeschylus' Agamemnon and Euripides' Iphigenia at Aulis, which 
 stood first in the series presented on the same day, should 
 open before daybreak. I must add, however, that such scenes 
 occur also in comedies and in tragedies which did not stand first 
 in their series, both of which must have been presented in the 
 full light of day. These instances of incongruity are to be 
 explained by stating that the arrangements and physical condi- 
 tions which caused the Greek playwrights usually to crowd the 
 action of their dramas within a period of twenty-four hours (see 
 p. 250, below) would also lead them to make the dramatic day 
 as long as possible by beginning the action of their plays at early 
 morning. 
 
 Lessing and others have unfavorably contrasted Voltaire's 
 employment of ghosts with Shakespeare's practice. The com- 
 parison rests principally upon two points: that the ghost of 
 ^Hamlet's father complied with ''recognized ghostly conditions'* 
 by appearing in the stillness of night and speaking to but one, 
 unaccompanied person, while the ghost of Ninus in S emir amis 
 outraged accepted beliefs by stalking out of his tomb in broad 
 daylight and making his appearance before a large assembly. 
 Now it is interesting to observe that Greek practice is liable 
 to these same criticisms. Thus in Aeschylus' Persians (vss. 
 681 ff.) the ghost of Darius appears in the full light of day and
 
 2 26 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 before his queen and no less than twelve councilors. In Eu- 
 ripides' Hecabe (vss. i ff.) the difficulties are somewhat obviated 
 by placing the appearance of Polydorus' ghost in the prologue, 
 before any other actor or the chorus has come in; and perhaps 
 Hecabe's words in vss. 68 f., "O mirk of the night," etc., are 
 intended to suggest that the preceding scene took place in dark- 
 ness. In any case, whatever make-beheve the dramatists might 
 choose to practice, the considerations just mentioned, together 
 with the almost constant presence of the chorus, normally com- 
 pelled apparitions appearing in Greek drama to violate two 
 provisions in the standard code of ghostly etiquette. 
 
 It is well known that in the earhest extant Greek plays, viz., 
 the Suppliants, Persians, and Prometheus Bound of Aeschylus, 
 the scene is laid in the open countryside with not a house in sight i 
 and with no scenic accessories except an altar, tomb, or rock, 
 respectively. But that this circumstance was explicable by the 
 character of the Athenian theater did not become evident until 
 Dr. Dorpfeld's excavations on that site in 1886, 1889, and 1895 
 (see pp. 65 if., above, and Figs. 32 and 32a). From 499 B.C. until 
 about 465 B.C. the theater at Athens consisted of an orchestral 
 circle nearly ninety feet in diameter and somewhat south of the 
 present orchestra, and an auditorium arranged partly about it on 
 the Acropolis slope. Immediately behind the orchestra there was 
 no scene-building or back scene, but a six-foot declivity. Only 
 within the orchestra itself, at the center or to one side, might 
 there be erected for temporary use some such theatrical "prop- 
 erty" as an altar or tomb. Consequently it was inevitable that 
 playwrights of the early fifth century in choosing an imaginary 
 scene for their plays should react to these physical conditions 
 and localize the dramatic action in more or less deserted spots. 
 Even as late as Aeschylus' Seven against Thebes (467 B.C.), 
 although the scene no longer is laid in the countryside but on the 
 Theban Acropolis, yet this is still a place without inhabitants or 
 houses. It should be noted that at this period the exclusive 
 mode of ingress and egress was by the side entrances, the parodi; 
 under normal conditions, any movement into the orchestra or
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF PHYSICAL CONDITIONS 
 
 227 
 
 out of it, at the rear, was entirely precluded by the declivity. 
 That such a primitive theater would suffice for the needs of that 
 or even a later period is proved by the remains of the structure 
 at Thoricus (Figs. 70 f.)/ which was never brought to a higher 
 state of development (see p. 103, above), and by the fact that 
 even at a later period dramatists sometimes voluntarily reverted 
 
 M I II M I I 1 I I 
 
 Fig. 70. — Ground Plan of the Theater at Thoricus in Attica 
 See p. 227, n. i 
 
 to this unpretentious stage setting. For example, in Sophocles' 
 
 Oedipus at Colonus the background represented the untrodden 
 
 grove of the Eumenides, so that practically all the entrances and 
 
 exits were restricted to the parodi. An exceptional rear exit is 
 
 aflforded by Aeschylus' Prometheus Bound, and an exceptional 
 
 rear entrance by the next play in the trilogy, the Prometheus 
 
 ' Fig. 70 is taken from Dorpfeld-Reisch, Das griechische Theater, Fig. 43; 
 Fig. 71 is from a photograph taken by Professor L. L. Forman and furnished by 
 Dr. A. S. Cooley.
 
 228 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 Unbound. We have already seen (see pp. i66 f. and 174, above) 
 how in the former play the hero, being represented by a dummy, 
 cannot speak until Hephaestus leaves the scene by a side entrance 
 and makes his way behind the rock upon which Prometheus is 
 bound. In the absence of a scene-building, the six-foot declivity 
 must have been utilized to conceal the second half of this move- 
 ment. Now the Prometheus Bound ends as the Titan and his 
 crag sink into the depths; at the beginning of the Prometheus 
 Unbound this crag has emerged from the abyss. What was the 
 reason for this maneuver ? Obviously to enable an actor to be 
 substituted for the lay figure of Prometheus. So long as the hero 
 was fixed in his place, an actor concealed behind him experienced 
 little difficulty in speaking his lines for him ; but as the time drew 
 near for his release a living impersonator was required. How 
 was this substitution managed? I conceive that a wooden 
 frame-work, rudely suggesting a rock, was propped up at the 
 outer extremity of the orchestra. At the moment of the catas- 
 trophe the supports were removed and the structure allowed to 
 collapse into the declivity. After an interval sufficient for the 
 exchange had elapsed, the rocky background was once more 
 raised into its place and braced. 
 
 About 465 B.C. an advance step in theatrical conditions was 
 taken when a scene-building was erected on and just behind the 
 orchestra, where the declivity had previously been (see pp. 66 and 
 339 ff.). This first scene-building must have been very simple, 
 probably of only one story, with parascenia but no proscenium 
 (Fig. 74) , and capable of being readily rebuilt so as to be accom- 
 modated to the needs of different plays. The extant dramas 
 show that from the first the new background was pierced by 
 at least one door and that the number was soon raised to three, 
 though they were not all used in every production. The different 
 doorways were conventionally thought of as leading into as 
 many separate houses or buildings. Thus, whereas the actors 
 had hitherto been able to enter and depart only through the two 
 parodi, from one to three additional means of entrance were now 
 provided. Moreover, the mere fact of having a background was
 
 Fig. 71 
 AUDITORIUM AND ORCHESTRA OF THE THEATER AT THORICUS 
 
 See p. 227, n. i
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF PHYSICAL CONDITIONS 229 
 
 no small advantage. For example, it enabled Aeschylus to 
 introduce a distinct improvement in dramatic technique. Here- 
 tofore scenes of violence must either have been boldly enacted 
 before the spectators' eyes or reported by a messenger. Since 
 the sacrosanctity of the actor while engaged in a performance 
 and the Greeks' aesthetic sense interfered with the first alter- 
 native (see pp. 127-32, above), doubtless the second had usually 
 been resorted to. Now Aeschylus is said to have invented the 
 very effective device of having a character killed behind the 
 scenes during the play. In view of the physical conditions it will 
 be understood that the failure of Aeschylus' predecessors to 
 avail themselves of this expedient was due to no lack of inventive 
 genius on their part but simply to the entire absence in their time 
 of a back scene to use for the purpose. It is not known just how 
 long it took Aeschylus to discover this possibility in the new 
 arrangements ; but it was certainly not later than the Agamemnon 
 (458 B.C.), in which the king's agonized death cries from behind 
 the scenes (vss. 1343 and 1345) still have power to affect even 
 modern audiences. Further modifications of this artifice have 
 already been mentioned on p. 128. 
 
 One of the most troublesome problems that confront a play- 
 ^wright is inventing plausible motives to explain the entrances 
 and exits of his characters. The fundamental nature of this 
 problem appears from the words of a modern dramatist, 
 Mr. AKred Sutro : " Before I start writing the dialogue of a play, 
 I make sure that I shall have an absolutely free hand over the 
 entrances and exits: in other words, that there is ample and 
 legitimate reason for each character appearing in any particular 
 scene, and ample motive for his leaving it." Now in the in- 
 terior scene, and especially in the box set, moderns have a marvel- 
 ously flexible instrument for shifting personages on and off the 
 scene; yet few can avoid abusing this resource and can repeat 
 Mr. Bernard Shaw's boast: "My people get on and off the stage 
 without requiring four doors to a room which in real life would 
 have only one."^ To the ancient writer the difficulty was still 
 
 ' Cf . Three Plays for Puritans, p. xxxvi.
 
 230 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 greater. Prior to 465 B.C., when some uninhabited spot was ^ 
 perforce chosen as the scene of action and the two parodi were 
 the sole means of ingress, it was fairly easy to motivate a person's ^ 
 first entrance and withdrawal; but a reappearance proved a 
 more difficult matter, and each additional character complicated 
 the problem still further. Consequently, the ancient playwrights 
 not infrequently frankly abandoned all search for a solution and 
 considered that to leave a character standing in idleness during 
 a whole scene or choral ode was less awkward and improbable 
 than any motive which they could provide for his exit and 
 re-entrance. Thus in Aeschylus' Suppliants, Danaus enters the I 
 orchestra with the chorus consisting of his daughters and remains 1 
 at the altar, without a single word to say, during their parodus / 
 of a hundred and seventy-five lines. After a short scene the 
 king of Argos appears, and then for over two hundred lines (vss. 
 234-479) Danaus is again ignored (see pp. 163 f., above). In this 
 play the town of Argos is thought of as lying some distance away^ 
 from the scene of action. Only an important errand would take 
 Danaus there, and evidently the poet experienced difficulty in 
 inventing as many errands as dramatic propriety required. 
 Similarly at vss. 181 ff. of Aeschylus' Seven against Thebes, 
 Eteocles rebukes the chorus for their fears and lamentations; 
 yet apparently he has been standing there during their whole 
 parodus (vss. 78-180) without a single word of protest! But it 
 was not characteristic of the Greek genius tamely to submit to 
 hindrances, and accordingly we are not surprised that Aeschylus 
 actually secured a striking dramatic effect by leaving characters 
 like Niobe and Achilles for considerable intervals speechless and 
 immovable on the scene. When finally uttered, their startling 
 cries of anguish were greatly enhanced by their previous long- 
 continued silence. It may not be amiss to note that Moliere 
 obtained similar suspense by means quite opposite. In Tartufe, 
 contrary to all the accepted rules, the principal character does 
 not appear upon the scene until after the beginning of the third 
 act. But the conversation and disputes of the other dramatic 
 personages have so inflamed our curiosity concerning him that we
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF PHYSICAL CONDITIONS 231 
 
 can scarcely wait to catch a glimpse of him, and his entrance 
 finally is thrice as effective as if it had come earlier in the play. 
 
 The erection of a scene-building about 465 B.C. somewhat 
 relieved the difficulty of the playwrights' problem. First of all 
 the places of entrance were increased 50 per cent or more. 
 Secondly, the new entrances were nearer the orchestra than were 
 the parodi and enabled an actor to come in or depart more 
 quickly. Thirdly, the presence of buildings almost required the 
 scene to be laid in a town or city and correspondingly multiplied 
 the possible motives for visiting it. And finally, since the door- 
 ways often represented the homes of certain of the dramatic 
 characters, no elaborate motivation was needed to explain their 
 passing in and out at frequent intervals. When his work was 
 done, the useless actor could be temporarily eliminated with 
 neatness and dispatch. These considerations and the intro- 
 duction of the third actor at about the same time (see p. 167, 
 above) soon doubled the amount of coming and going in the 
 plays (cf. Mooney, op. ciL, p. 54). The influence of the former 
 factor appears in Euripides' Suppliants, the action of which 
 takes place before a temple. It so happens, however, that the 
 temple doors in this case are not used for entrances and exits. 
 Consequently of all Euripides' tragedies this one has the least 
 passing to and fro. On the other hand the influence of the second 
 factor is seen in the fact that this piece and Sophocles' Oedipus 
 at Colonus (see p. 227, above), both making practically no use of 
 their back scene but both employing three actors, are higher in 
 "action" than the corresponding plays of Aeschylus, which 
 belong to the two-actor period. 
 
 Nevertheless, when all is said, the erection of a scene-building 
 still left the ancient dramatists far behind the moderns in the easy 
 and plausible motivation of their characters' movements, and 
 no further advance (from this point of view) was subsequently 
 made in the theatrical arrangements. All the dramatic per- 
 sonages still had to come to the same (usually a pubhc) place; 
 they could not dodge in at one door and out at another at their 
 creator's caprice, but whether entering or leaving had to walk
 
 232 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 a considerable distance in plain view of the spectators. Con- 
 sequently the silent actor is found after 465 B.C. as well as before. 
 Thus in Euripides' Suppliants one or more characters are being 
 neglected at almost every point. But in my opinion this phe- 
 nomenon is no longer due primarily to the inadequacy of the 
 theatrical arrangements but to other considerations. For ex- 
 ample, the limited number of actors often resulted in prolonged 
 or awkward silence on the part of a character who was being 
 impersonated by a mute (see pp. 174-82, above). Again, in the 
 Alcestis, after Heracles has brought the queen back from her 
 grave, she utters never a word. Euripides himself explains this 
 on the ground that she may not speak until her consecration to 
 the gods of the lower world be undone and the third day come 
 (vss. 1 144 ff.). This is a clever pretext but not the real reason. 
 Nor do I think, as some do, that in this instance the limitation 
 of actors is responsible, since only two actors speak in this scene 
 and the play belongs to the three-actor period. Alcestis' silence 
 springs rather from the impossibiHty of placing in her mouth a 
 message worthy of her experiences, one which "telling what it 
 is to die had surely added praise to praise." Still again the 
 silence frequently arises from inability to master the technique 
 of the trialogue (see pp. 169 f .) or from the nature of the plot. 
 In any trial scene it is almost inevitable that both the judge and 
 the accused should remain inactive for considerable intervals. 
 Thus in Aeschylus' Eumenides the silence of Athena (vss. 585- 
 673 and 711-33) and of Orestes (vss. 244-63, 307-435, 490-585, 
 and 614-743) is scarcely more noteworthy than that of the Duke 
 and Antonio in Act IV of The Merchant of Venice. When his 
 case was about to be decided, Orestes terminated a silence of one 
 hundred and thirty lines by the thrilhng ejaculation, " O Phoebus 
 Apollo, what shall the judgment be!" (vs. 744) — another ex- 
 ample of the dexterity with which the Greek poets could trans- 
 mute base metal into pure gold. 
 
 It need not be said that the same difficulty of plausible 
 motivation puzzled the comic as well as the tragic writers of 
 antiquity, and they extricated themselves with no less ingenuity
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF PHYSICAL CONDITIONS 233 
 
 in their own way. For the further unfolding of the plot in 
 Plautus' Pseudolus it became necessary that that crafty slave 
 should explain to his accomplices certain developments which 
 had already been represented on the scene. Actually to repeat 
 the facts would have been tedious to the spectators, while to 
 motive an exit for all the parties concerned until the information 
 could be imparted and then to motive their re-entrance might 
 have proved difficult and certainly would have caused an awk- 
 ward pause in the action. The poet therefore chose the bolder 
 course of dropping for the moment all dramatic illusion and at 
 the same time of slyly poking fun at the conventions of his art: 
 ''This play is being performed for the sake of these spectators. 
 They have been here, and are aware of developments. I'll tell 
 you about them afterwards "(!) (vss. 720 f.). 
 
 We have already referred to the fact that topographical 
 conditions in Athens gave rise to a convention regarding the 
 significance of the parodi (see p. 208, above). As the spectator 
 sat on the south slope of the Acropolis at Athens, with the 
 orchestra and scene-buildings before him, the harbor of the 
 Piraeus and the market place lay toward his right and the open 
 country on his left (Fig. 29). And since the theater was roofless 
 and the performances given in dayhght, these relationships were 
 visible and must at all times have been present to the conscious- 
 ness of the audience. The matter was, therefore, one of more 
 consequence than in the modern theater, where many spectators, 
 being unable to see points of orientation outside, would be 
 puzzled to indicate the points of the compass. In the Athenian 
 theater, on the contrary, if the scene were laid locally no poet 
 or stage manager could have allowed a character from the Piraeus 
 to enter by the left (east) parodus without committing a patent 
 absurdity. In such a case there was, at the beginning, no 
 convention; the plays simply reacted to actual local conditions. 
 But the fifth-century plays were rarely laid in Athens, and in 
 them comparatively little is said of harbor, market place, or 
 countryside, whether at Athens or elsewhere. Apart from a rigid 
 convention, there would be no point in staging Aeschylus'
 
 234 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 Suppliants, the scene of which is laid just outside the city of 
 Argos, or Aristophanes' Birds, whose scene is supposed to be in 
 the clouds, in such a way as to conform to Athenian topography. 
 In fact, incidental allusions in the fifth-century plays, the com- 
 parative infrequency in them of references to harbor, country, and 
 market place, and minor infelicities arising from any attempt to 
 foist this convention upon them, would all seem to indicate that 
 these plays had been written without much regard for local 
 geography. But with increasing frequency Athens became the 
 imaginary scene of comedies, and the relationships which had 
 become a fixed rule for them were transferred to tragedy also, 
 and soon to other theaters whose setting bore little or no resem- 
 blance to that of the theater of Dionysus Eleuthereus. Certainly 
 by the time of New Comedy the convention was firmly estab- 
 lished, and except for characters leaving or entering the houses 
 in the background almost every exit or entrance was oriented for 
 the audience with reference to country, harbor, or market place. 
 When Greek comedy was transplanted to Italian soil the con- 
 vention was taken over, too, and reappears, possibly with some 
 modification, in the plays of Plautus and Terence. 
 
 Regardless of the convention, however, and the period of its 
 origin there is one blemish which careful stage managers now- 
 adays seek to avoid. When a door closes upon a departing 
 character, it should not be immediately opened again to admit 
 another character, whom the first character must have brushed 
 against in the hall. A slight pause is somehow provided to 
 enable the two characters to avoid meeting and to give the sense 
 of space beyond the room on the stage. Now in Euripides' 
 Alcestis a violation of this common-sense principle of stage 
 craft seems to occur. At vs. 747 Admetus and the chorus have 
 departed bearing the body of Alcestis to its last resting place. 
 In the ensuing scene Heracles at last learns the identity of the 
 deceased and at vs. 860 rushes out to wrestle with the king of the 
 dead beside the grave. In the very next verse Admetus returns. 
 According to the Hellenistic convention Heracles must have 
 departed and Admetus have re-entered through the parodus at
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF PHYSICAL CONDITIONS 235 
 
 the audience's left. But which parodus was employed does not 
 in this case greatly matter. The point is that since Heracles 
 was bound for the spot from which Admetus was returning, they 
 must have used the same parodus. Nevertheless, later develop- 
 ments show that they did not meet; indeed, certain telling 
 features of the denouement would have been spoiled if they had. 
 Yet how could they avoid doing so ? The play furnishes no 
 reply. So far as I can see the only way in which the difficulty 
 can be obviated is by supposing that vss. 747-860 take place 
 before a slightly different part of the palace from the rest of the 
 play. Scholars, however, do not commonly accept a change of 
 scene in this piece (see pp. 250 f., below). 
 
 The space between the two parodi and leading past the scene- 
 building was usually thought of as representing a street or road- 
 way (see p. 86, above). In the Hellenistic theater at Athens a 
 stone proscenium ran across the front of the scene-building 
 from one parascenium to the other (see p. 70, above) (Fig. 38), 
 and it is likely that a wooden proscenium occupied the same 
 space from about 430 B.C. It is true that the stone foundation 
 of the parascenia, which served as a framework for the pro- 
 scenium, cannot be dated much earlier than 415-421 B.C. (see 
 p. 67 and n. i, above). But there is now reason to believe that 
 parascenia entirely of wood were erected long before permanent 
 foundations were provided for them, perhaps as early as 465 B.C. 
 (see pp. 342 f.), and the proscenium colonnade seems to have been 
 employed at least as early as Euripides' Hippolytus (428 B.C.) and 
 Aristophanes' Clouds (423 B.C.) . Confirmation for this conclusion 
 may be found in the fact that the crane {fj-rixo-vri) was introduced 
 at about this same time (see p. 289, below) . When the scene was 
 laid before a private house or a palace, the colonnade was in 
 place as signifying its prothyron {irpbdvpov) or "porch." When 
 the background was thought of as a temple the proscenium was 
 its pronaos (jrpovaos) or ''portico." Moreover, when a less 
 conventional setting was required, painted panels (TrivaKes) 
 could be inserted in the intercolumniations in order to suggest 
 the desired locality, and in some theaters the proscenium columns
 
 236 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 were shaped so as to hold such panels more firmly in place (Fig. 
 ']2)} Thus the action in Sophocles' Oedipus at Colonus takes 
 place before a grove, and that in Plautus' The Fisherman's Rope, 
 along a beach. The interruption of natural scenery by columns 
 at regular intervals would be disturbing to us; that it did not 
 seem so to the Greeks was due not only to their ignorance of 
 modern scenery but also to the sketchy shorthand which they 
 practiced in other fields of art. On ancient vases, for example, 
 a whole forest is frequently represented by a single tree. A 
 
 \^ 
 
 Fig. 72. — Horizontal Sections of Proscenium Columns at Megalopolis and 
 Eretria (i), Epidaurus (2), Delos (3), and Oropus (4). 
 
 See p. 236, n. i 
 
 similar convention obtains in the drama of modern Persia, where 
 "the desert is represented by a handful of sand on the platform, 
 the river Tigris by a leather basin full of water. "^ Sophocles 
 is said to have invented scene painting during the lifetime of 
 Aeschylus (see p. 66, above), but this must be interpreted as 
 meaning that he had the panels applied directly to the front of 
 the scene-building, the proscenium being not yet introduced. 
 It has also been suggested, on the basis of certain vase paintings 
 (Fig. 73), 3 that an actual porch (prothyron) was sometimes built 
 
 ' Fig. 72 is taken from Puchstein, Die griechische Buhne, Fig. 3. 
 
 * Cf. Ridgeway, Dramas and Dramatic Dances of Non-European Races, p. 83. 
 
 5 Fig. 73 is taken from Baumeister, Denkmaler, Fig. 980. Within the prothy- 
 ron are the king of Corinth and his daughter, Jason's second wife. The latter is 
 being assisted by her brother. In front lies an opened box which contained the 
 poisoned gifts. From the other side the queen comes rushing. In the foreground 
 is Medea slaying one of her children, while a youth tries to rescue the other. In
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF PHYSICAL CONDITIONS 
 
 237 
 
 extending from the center of the proscenium or taking the place 
 of a proscenium and extending from the center of the scene- 
 building's front wall. But perhaps these paintings are only 
 conventionalized representations of the proscenium colonnade 
 
 Fig. 73. — A Fourth-Century Vase in Munich Representing the Vengeance 
 
 of Medea. 
 
 See p. 236, n. 3 
 
 itself. In any case it is important to observe that no background 
 corresponding to the scene-building is indicated on the vases. 
 
 Now it will be noted that these theatrical arrangements 
 made no provision for an interior scene. The dramatic action 
 was necessarily laid in the open air, usually before a palace, 
 
 the center is Oistros, the demon of madness, mounted upon a dragon chariot. 
 Further on Jason is hastening to aid his boys, and on the extreme right is the ghost 
 of Aeetes, Medea's father. The design is apparently not based upon Euripides' 
 Medea. Cf. Earle's edition, pp. 60 f.
 
 238 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 private house, or temple. Though occasional plays, like Mr. 
 Louis Parker's Pomander Walk, show that the thing can still be 
 managed, in general modern dramatists would be paralyzed by 
 such a requirement. Nor is it correct to state that the classical 
 poets ''seldom had occasion to show an interior scene." The 
 truth is precisely the opposite : having no way in which to show 
 an interior they were constrained to rest content with alfresco 
 scenes. Yet the situation was not so desperate as it would seem. 
 Corneille pointed out that Greek kings could meet and speak in 
 public without a breach of etiquette.^ At the French court, and 
 consequently on the French stage, such conduct would have been 
 intolerable. In the second place the mildness of a southern 
 climate justified some practices which might appear strange to 
 more northern peoples. Many things which we would consider 
 must be kept strictly within doors would sometimes take place 
 in the street. Semi-privacy was afforded by porches and 
 porticoes, that is, theatrically speaking, by the colonnade of the 
 proscenium. Our nearest parallel would be sun parlors or 
 screened porches and even these fall short. Doubtless this 
 difference in weather conditions has something to do with the 
 fact that modern playwrights of the classic school, who, though 
 freed from the material restrictions of the ancients, have yet 
 slavishly imitated them in so much else, have not followed them 
 in this partiahty for outdoor scenes. Allowance must also be 
 made for the fact that in comedy the characters uniformly 
 belonged to the lower strata of society. Accordingly we need 
 feel httle surprise that in Aristophanes' Clouds (vss. i ff.) 
 Strepsiades and his son are disclosed sleeping before their home 
 in the open air, though we have no reason to believe that they 
 are either actual or prospective victims of tuberculosis. In 
 Euripides' Orestes (vss. i ff.) the matricide, wasted by illness, 
 lies on his couch before the palace in Argos under his sister's 
 care. In Plautus' The Churl (vss. 448 ff.), Phronesium reclines 
 on a bed before the house, pretending that she has given birth to 
 a child. In Plautus' The Haunted House (vss. 2482.), Phile- 
 
 ' Cf. Discours des Irois unites, I, 119 (Regnier's edition; 1862).
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF PHYSICAL CONDITIONS 239 
 
 matium asks her maid for a mirror, jewel box, etc., and a scene 
 of prinking ensues in the open air. Scenes of outdoor feasting 
 and carousing are too numerous to deserve individual mention. 
 I cannot accept the contention that the action of such scenes 
 takes place in an "imaginary interior." They are frankly out 
 of doors; in this connection such expressions as "outside the 
 house," "before the doors," etc., are frequent. These scenes 
 were enacted in the colonnade of the proscenium and are correctly 
 copied from ancient life. Of course I concede that in real life 
 they would take place indoors as often as out, or even more often; 
 but they were common enough as open-air scenes to justify the 
 playwrights in constantly transcribing them in this fashion. 
 
 But the significance of the considerations mentioned in the 
 last paragraph must not be overestimated. The difficulty 
 arising from physical conditions in the theater was cumulative. 
 In other words the placing of any particular scene in the open 
 air was generally justifiable by ancient habits of living and not 
 difficult to motivate; but to place every scene in every play out 
 of doors and under these conditions to invent a plausible motive 
 for every entrance taxed the dramatists' powers to the utmost 
 and sometimes exceeded them.^ No wonder, then, that occa- 
 sionally they abandoned all attempts to explain their characters' 
 movements and coolly allowed them to leave their dwellings and 
 to speak, without apology or excuse, of the most confidential 
 matters in a public place. Many instances of this license, 
 however, seem to have been conditioned by definite rules. For 
 example, if a character leaves his house while engaged in con- 
 versation with another, no reason is given for their entrance, 
 i.e., for their not having concluded the conversation where it was 
 begun. Examples of this technique do not occur until about 
 400 B.C. (see p. 310, below, and the instances there cited). 
 Secondly, no entrance motive is provided when a character is to 
 take part in a dialogue with another who is already on the scene 
 and whose own entrance has been motived. Thus in Euripides' 
 Alcestis, Heracles enters at vs. 476 in order to seek hospitality 
 
 ' Cf. Legrand, The New Greek Comedy, pp. 356 f., Loeb's translation.
 
 240 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 at Admetus' palace; at vs. 506 the chorus announces the king's 
 emergence, which is entirely unmotived. Six other examples of 
 this technique occur in Greek tragedy. 
 
 Nevertheless, in general the ancient playwrights displayed 
 an amazing fertility of invention in explaining why their char- 
 acters came out of doors and spoke in so public a place of matters 
 which might more naturally have been reserved for greater 
 privacy. Thus in Euripides' Alcestis, Apollo explains his leaving 
 Admetus' palace on the ground of the pollution which a corpse 
 would bring upon all within the house (vss. 22 f.) and Alcestis 
 herself, though in a dying condition, fares forth to look for the 
 last time upon the sun in heaven (vs. 206). Oedipus is so con- 
 cerned in the afflictions of his subjects that he cannot endure the 
 thought of making inquiries through a servant but comes forth 
 to learn the situation in person (Sophocles' Oedipus the King, 
 vss. 6 f .) ; Carion is driven out of doors by the smoke of sac- 
 rifice upon the domestic altar (Aristophanes' Plutus, vss. 821 f.); 
 Polyphemus leaves his cave intending to visit his brothers for a 
 carousal (cf. Euripides' Cyclops, vss. 445 f. and 507 £f.). In 
 Euripides' Andromache, Hermione's nurse, worn out in the 
 attempt to save her mistress from self-destruction, hurries out 
 and appeals to the chorus for assistance; a moment later Her- 
 mione herself escapes from the restraining clutches of her 
 attendants and rushes upon the stage (vss. 816 ff.). Agathon 
 cannot compose his odes in the winter time unless he bask in 
 the sunlight (Aristophanes' Women at the Thesmophoria, vss. 
 67 f.). In Plautus' The Haunted House (vss. i ff.) one slave is 
 driven out of doors by another as the result of a quarrel. The 
 lovelorn Phaedra teases for light and air (Euripides' Hippolytus, 
 vss. 1 78ff .) . Medea's nurse apologizes for soliloquizing before the 
 house with the excuse that the sorrows within have stifled her 
 and caused her to seek relief by proclaiming them to earth and 
 sky (cf. Euripides' Medea, vss. 56 ff. and pp. 307 f., below). And 
 Antigone informs her sister that she has summoned her out of 
 doors in order to speak with her alone (Sophocles' Antigone, 
 vss. 18 f.), as if that were the most natural place in the world for 
 a t^te-a-tete. In connection with this last instance it must be
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF PHYSICAL CONDITIONS 241 
 
 remembered that the interior of ancient houses was arranged 
 differently than ours and was more favorable for eavesdropping 
 (cf. Terence's Phormio, vss. 862-69). 
 
 The difficulty inherent in the exclusive use of exterior scenes 
 appears very strikingly in Euripides' Cyclops. Here the action 
 would naturally take place in Polyphemus' cave, as it does in 
 Homer's Odyssey; but, theatrical conditions making that impos- 
 sible, the scene is laid before the cave's mouth. Contrary to 
 verisimilitude, therefore, the poet is obliged to allow Odysseus 
 to pass in and out without let or hindrance. Why, then, does 
 he make no attempt to escape ? Euripides anticipated this query 
 and explained Odysseus' remaining by regard for his companions' 
 safety (vss. 479 ff.). But why was it not equally feasible for his 
 comrades to leave the cave and for all to be saved together? 
 The poet can think of no better motive than that Odysseus' pride 
 and sense of honor caused him to desire to take vengeance on 
 Polyphemus for having murdered some of his followers (vss. 
 
 694 f.); 
 
 Being unable actually to represent an interior scene the Greek 
 playwrights gladly availed themselves of several substitutes. 
 The most common of these was the messenger's speech (see p. 164, 
 above), by which occurrences that had taken place indoors were 
 related to the chorus or to actors before the house. Another sub- 
 stitute was found in the cries of characters murdered behind the 
 scenes (see pp. 128 and 229, above). A third method consisted 
 in throwing open the doors in the background and revealing a 
 scene of murder done within (see p. 128, above). We are told 
 further that sometimes, when the doors were flung open, a plat- 
 form, with a tableau mounted upon it, was pushed forward for a 
 few moments (see the discussion of the eccyclema on pp. 284-89, 
 below) . A fourth evasion of the restriction occurs in Euripides' 
 Hippolytus, vss. 565 ff. Phaedra from her couch in the pro- 
 scenium colonnade hears the voices of her confidential slave and 
 Hippolytus engaged in conversation within doors. She invites 
 the chorus in the orchestra near by to join her in Hstening at the 
 door — a proposal which for obvious dramatic reasons the cho- 
 reutae cannot accept; but her own cries and exclamations of
 
 242 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 despair as she listens stir the audience much more profoundly 
 than the conversation itself could have done. Thus the main 
 portion of the dialogue between Hippolytus and the slave is 
 supposed to take place indoors. It is concluded before the house, 
 the two interlocutors entering the stage at vs. 600. 
 
 Still again, the dramatists of New Comedy were fond of 
 representing a character in the act of passing through a doorway 
 and shouting back parting injunctions to those within — an 
 artifice which is sufficiently transparent and is justly ridiculed 
 in Terence's Andrian Girl. A nurse has been summoned in a 
 confinement case and issues her final instructions while leaving 
 the house. Simo, who thinks no child has been born and that 
 it is all a trick to deceive him, turns fiercely upon the scheming 
 slave at his side: "Who that knows you would not believe this 
 to be the product of your brain ? She did not tell what must be 
 done for the mother in her presence; but after taking her depar- 
 ture she screams from the street to the attendants within. O 
 Davus, do you scorn me so? Pray do I seem so suitable a 
 victim for you to beguile with such transparent stratagems? 
 You ought to work out the details of your plots more exactly, 
 so that I might at least seem to be feared in case I learned the 
 truth" (vss. 489 ff.). Be it noted, however, that such a stickler 
 for reahsm as Ibsen occasionally made use of this same device 
 (cf. Pillars of Society, Acts II and III). A close parallel occurs 
 in Aristophanes' AcharnianSj vss. 1003 ff. 
 
 As a final illustration of the artificiahty of the exterior scene 
 
 I may refer to the manner in which characters are brusquely 
 
 called out of their homes to meet the demands of the dramatic 
 
 situation. Thus in Euripides' Iphigenia at Aulis a messenger 
 
 enters and unceremoniously shouts to his queen within doors: 
 
 Daughter of Tyndareus, Clytemnestra, come 
 Forth from the tent, that thou mayst hear my tale. 
 
 [Vss. 1532 f.; Way's translation], 
 
 and in Euripides' Children of Heracles, lolaus calls: 
 Alcmene, mother of a hero-son, 
 Come forth, give ear to these most welcome words. 
 
 [Vss. 642 f.; Way's translation]
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF PHYSICAL CONDITIONS 243 
 
 To judge by such a dramatic expedient, the front walls of ancient 
 houses must have been pretty thin l^ It is interesting to contrast 
 the uproar which is required in Shakespeare's Othello (Act I, 
 scene i) before Brabantio can be brought to his window. Per- 
 haps the most amusing instance of this convention occurs in 
 Plautus' Braggart Captain. In that play a slave had to be 
 deluded into believing that two women of identical appearance 
 hved in adjoining houses. Accordingly he is first sent into one 
 house and then into the other, while directions are shouted to 
 the one woman in question to move back and forth by means 
 of a secret passage so as always to meet him (vss. 523 fif.). 
 This of course presupposes that the walls will be thin enough 
 for the woman to hear through but too thick for the slave 
 to do so ! 
 
 The publicity thus inevitably attending conversations of the 
 most private nature was rendered still more incongruous by the 
 constant presence of the chorus; but this topic has already been 
 treated on pages 154-57, above. 
 
 Whether the fifth-century theater was provided with a drop 
 curtain has often been discussed. I am inchned to think there 
 is no conclusive evidence for the constant and regular use of one. 
 The considerations upon which the argument mainly rests are 
 a priori. That is to say, in several Greek plays the actors must 
 arrange themselves and be in position before the action begins. 
 This is the situation in Euripides' Orestes and Aristophanes' 
 Clouds (see p. 238, above). Did Orestes take to his sick bed in 
 full view of the assembled audience ? But he is said (cf . vs. 39) 
 aheady to have been there for five days! And though the 
 action of the Clouds begins just before dawn, Strepsiades and his 
 son are supposed to have lain before the house all night. In such 
 matters we must not permit our own prepossessions to mislead 
 us. In mediaeval drama though a character was in view of the 
 audience he could be thought of as, in effect, behind the scenes 
 until his part began. Similarly in oriental theaters today 
 performers are treated as if they could put on the mask of 
 
 ' For another' interpretation cf. Mooney, op. cit., p. 19 and n. 13.
 
 244 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 invisibility. The only standing concession which I can make 
 to modern feeling consists in granting that the proscenium 
 columns partially screened the actors from the audience while 
 they were taking their places. In my opinion the nearest 
 approach to the use of a curtain occurs in Sophocles' Ajax and 
 is quite exceptional. That hero committed suicide on the stage, 
 and his body was found in a woodland glen (^dTros, vs. 892) near 
 the seashore. I suppose that the door in the front of one of the 
 parascenia^ (Fig. 74) was left open to represent the entrance 
 to the glen, and that around and behind it were set panels 
 painted to suggest the woodland coast and the glen (see pp. 235 f., 
 above). Into this opening Ajax collapsed as he fell upon his 
 sword. At vs. 915, Tecmessa "conceals him wholly with this 
 enfolding robe." Possibly this means that the cloth was 
 fastened about the corpse and across the doorway, thus enabHng 
 a mute or a lay figure to be substituted for the corpse and re- 
 leasing this actor to appear as Teucer in the remainder of the 
 play (see p. 174, above). Whatever the means employed, it is 
 certain that a substitution was effected. 
 
 It has often been maintained that the abrupt endings of so 
 many modern plays is due to the fact that we possess a drop 
 curtain which can be brought down upon the action with a bang, 
 and that the quieter endings of, for example, Elizabethan plays 
 arise from their being written for curtainless theaters. I do 
 not entirely disapprove of this suggestion, but wish to point out 
 that the difference originates, at least in part, also in a difference 
 in taste at different times and among different peoples. It is 
 true that the Greeks probably had no drop curtain and that their 
 dramas usually end upon a note of calm. But the same kind 
 of close is normal in other fields of their literature, where the 
 presence or absence of a curtain did not enter into consideration. 
 
 ' The Ajax is one of the earliest among Sophocles' extant plays, but its exact 
 date is not known. I have assumed that it preceded the introduction of a pro- 
 scenium about 430 B.C. (see p. 235, above). If it was written after that innovation, 
 the statement in the text would have to be altered accordingly, but the general 
 method of procedure remains the same in either case.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF PHYSICAL CONDITIONS 245 
 
 For example, there is a distinct tendency for modern orators to 
 close speeches with a peroration which is intended to sweep 
 auditors off their feet. Not so in Greek oratory. "Wherever 
 pity, terror, anger, or any passionate feeling is uttered or invited, 
 this tumult is resolved in a final calm; and where such tumult 
 has place in the peroration, it subsides before the last sentences 
 of all."^ The same situation obtains likewise in the case of the 
 Greek epic as in Homer's Iliad and Odyssey. 
 
 » Cf. Jebb, The Attic Orators, Vol. I, p. ciiL
 
 The unities, sir, are a completeness — 
 a kind of a universal dovetailedness with 
 regard to place and time — a sort of a 
 general oneness, if I may be allowed to 
 use so strong an expression. I take those 
 to be the dramatic unities, so far as I 
 have been enabled to bestow attention 
 upon them, and I have read much upon 
 the subject, and thought much. — 
 Charles Dickens. 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF PHYSICAL CONDITIONS (CONTINUED): 
 
 THE UNITIES^ 
 
 The dramatic unities, three principles governing the structure 
 of drama and supposedly derived from Aristotle's Poetics, are a 
 subject of perennial interest. They are known as the unities 
 of time, place, and action, respectively, and require that ''the 
 action of a play should be represented as occurring in one place, 
 within one day, and with nothing irrelevant to the plot." The 
 essential facts concerning them were recognized at least as long 
 ago as the publication of Lessing's Hamhurgische Dramaturgic 
 (1767). But so deep-rooted is the popular impression that the 
 Greeks formulated these rules arbitrarily and observed them 
 slavishly that no attempt to state the true situation can be 
 superfluous. The current doctrine is based on the fact that the 
 classic dramatists in France and Italy blindly obeyed the rules 
 as a heritage of the past, without regard to the demands of the 
 theater at their own disposal; and, consequently, the inference 
 has been easily and naturally drawn that the ancient practice 
 was equally irrational. 
 
 ' In addition to the works mentioned on pp. xvii andxxf. and the bibliography 
 listed on pp. 57-59, above, cf. Campbell, Classical Review, IV (1890), 303 ff.; Verrall 
 in his edition of Euripides' Ion (1890), pp. xlviiiff.; Krause, Quaestiones Aris- 
 tophaneae Scaenicae (1903); Kent, "The Time Element in the Greek Drama," 
 Transactions of the American Philological Association, XXXVII (1906), 39 ff.; 
 Felsch, Quibus Artificiis Adhibitis Poetae Tragici Graeci Unilates Illas et Temporis 
 et Loci Obscrvaverint (1907); Polczj'k, De Unitatibus et Loci et Temporis in Nova 
 Comoedia Observatis (1909); Marek, De Temporis et Loci Unitatibus a Seneca 
 Tragico Observatis (1909); Wolf, Die Bezeichnung von Ort und Zeit in der attischen 
 Tragodie (191 1); Butcher, Aristotle^ s Theory of Poetry and Fine Art* (191 1), 
 pp. 274 ff.; Brasse, Quatenus in Fabulis Plautinis et Loci et Temporis Unitatibus 
 Species Veritatis Neglegatur (1914) ; and Manning, A Study of Archaism in Euripides 
 (1916). 
 
 246
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF PHYSICAL CONDITIONS 247 
 
 But in the Greek theater, where there was no drop curtain, 
 no scenery to shift, and a chorus almost continuously present, a 
 change of scene was difficult to indicate visually. Nevertheless 
 Aristotle nowhere mentions the unity of place, and the Greek 
 dramatists not infrequently violate it. The most familiar 
 instances occur in Aeschylus' Eumenides and Sophocles' Ajax. 
 The former play opens at the temple of Apollo in Delphi, whither 
 the avenging Furies have pursued Orestes after his mother's 
 murder. During a momentary lapse from their watchfulness 
 Orestes makes his escape, but the Furies soon awaken and take 
 up the trail once more. The scene is thus left entirely vacant 
 (vs. 234) and is supposed to change to Athens, where all parties 
 presently appear for the famous trial before the Council of the 
 Areopagus. The beginning of the latter play takes place before 
 Ajax' tent, and Sophocles wished to introduce the very unusual 
 motive of having a scene of violence enacted before the audience. 
 As the presence of the chorus was an insuperable obstacle to such 
 a deed, Ajax was allowed to leave the scene and, suspicion being 
 soon aroused, the chorus was sent in search of him (vs. 814). 
 Thus, the scene is again entirely deserted by both actors and 
 chorus, and Ajax returns, not to his tent, but to some lonely spot 
 near the seashore (see pp. 129 and 244, above). This was by far 
 the most natural and logical method of leading up to a change of 
 scene, was infinitely superior to Shakespeare's practice in King 
 Henry V, where Chorus is introduced in the prologue of each act 
 to acquaint the spectators with the scene of the succeeding action, 
 but was so difficult to motivate that only some half a dozen 
 examples are known to us in the whole Greek drama. On the 
 other hand, such a technical device was usually not well adapted 
 to represent considerable shifts of scene, since it would seem 
 unnatural for so large a body of persons as the chorus always to 
 accompany the dramatic characters to widely separated localities. 
 To this general restriction, however, the Eumenides furnishes a 
 brilliant exception, because it was the especial duty of the Furies 
 to track the guilty Orestes wherever he might flee. In Old 
 Comedy, ever fantastic and intentionally impossible, greater
 
 248 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 freedom was naturally allowed than in tragedy, so that in 
 Aristophanes' Frogs no less than five dififerent scenes are 
 successively required (see pp. 88-90, above). 
 
 At the same time the need of such scene-shifting was largely 
 obviated by the arbitrary placing of almost all scenes before a 
 building, by the exclusion of interior scenes, and by the various 
 devices substituted therefor (see pp. 237-42, above). In particu- 
 lar the use of the messenger's speech enabled dramatists to bring 
 indirectly before their audiences events which had taken place, 
 not merely in the scene-house interior, but at far distant spots. 
 Very commonly the unity of place was observed by convention- 
 ally bringing together as close neighbors structures or localities 
 which would actually be separated by considerable intervals. 
 Thus the murderers of Agamemnon would not wish his grave 
 to stare them in the face and to remind their subjects of their 
 crime; nevertheless in Aeschylus' Libation-Bearers palace and 
 tomb stand side by side. Likewise in Euripides' Helen, King 
 Theoclymenus has buried his father in front of his palace. Now 
 these arrangements are not to be interpreted in the light of the 
 prehistoric custom of placing the dead within the house or before 
 its threshold. It is purely a theatrical convention, and Euripides 
 shows what he thought of it by deeming it necessary to put an 
 excuse on the Egyptian king's lips : 
 
 Hail, my sire's tomb! — for at my palace-gate, 
 Proteus, I buried thee, to greet thee so; 
 Still as I enter and pass forth mine halls, 
 Thee, father, I thy son Theoclymenus haiL 
 
 [Vss. 1 165 ff.; Way's translation] 
 
 Many similar instances of incongruous juxtaposition in Greek 
 drama can be cited, and those who remember the use of the 
 continuous set in mediaeval theaters will feel no surprise. 
 
 Slightly different but no less efficacious is the method of 
 procedure in the Persians. For dramatic effect Aeschylus 
 wished to introduce the ghost of Darius. But according to 
 ancient notions on the subject ghosts do not normally wander 
 far from their tombs, and the real grave of Darius was at
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF PHYSICAL CONDITIONS 249 
 
 Persepolis. Furthermore, under the conditions supposed the 
 Persian elders, the royal messenger, and Xerxes himself would 
 not naturally resort thither. Consequently, without the slight- 
 est compunction, Aeschylus transferred the dead monarch's 
 tomb to Susa! 
 
 Sometimes the unity of place was observed by causing a 
 character to come to a spot to which he would not naturally 
 resort. The scene of Euripides' PJioenician Maids, for instance, 
 is laid in Thebes, and the poet wished to show a meeting of the 
 Theban king and his brother. Since the latter is considered a 
 traitor and the enemy of his country, is in banishment and 
 at the head of an invading army, such a meeting in real life 
 would almost inevitably be held between the hostile lines. Yet 
 Polynices is forced to intrust his head to the lion's jaws and 
 enter the city. He expresses his own misgivings in vss. 261 ff., 
 concluding : 
 
 Yet do I trust my mother — and mistrust, — • 
 Who drew me to come hither under truce. 
 
 [Vss. 272 f.; Way's translation] 
 
 At vss. 357 ff. he alludes to the matter once more. 
 
 Similarly, a character is oftentimes forced to remain upon 
 the scene of action when he would not naturally do so. Thus, 
 in Plautus* Menaechmi, owing to a failure to distinguish 
 Menaechmus I from his brother, his father-in-law and a physi- 
 cian consider him insane and make arrangements, in his hearing, 
 for his apprehension. Notwithstanding, when they both leave 
 the stage at vs. 956 he makes no attempt to escape — an act 
 which would transfer the next two scenes elsewhere — but un- 
 concernedly awaits developments. 
 
 Finally I may mention one especially amusing artifice. In 
 Euripides' Iphigenia among the Taurians, Orestes has left the 
 scene and is now supposed to be some distance away. Not- 
 withstanding, Athena addresses him and apologetically adds: 
 "For, though absent, you can hear my voice, since I am a 
 goddess" (vs. 1447). The same situation recurs, without 
 apology, at vs. 1462 and in Euripides' Helen, vss. 1662 ff.
 
 250 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 Likewise, the unity of time arose, not from the whim of 
 ancient writers, but from the same theatrical arrangements which 
 resulted in the unity of place, viz., the absence of a drop curtain 
 and the continuous presence of the chorus. Under these con- 
 ditions an intermission for the imaginary lapse of time could be 
 secured only by the withdrawal of the chorus, and without such 
 intermissions the constant and long-continued presence of the 
 same persons in the same place without food or slumber was in 
 danger of becoming an absurdity. Now we have seen how 
 difficult it was to invent motives for the successive reappearances 
 of actors; to motivate the movements of a body of twelve (fifteen) 
 tragic or twenty-four comic choreutae was naturally still more 
 difficult (see pp. 229-33 and 150-52, above). Consequently the 
 chorus is rarely removed from the stage during the action. Two 
 instances have already been mentioned (p. 247, above). In the 
 Ajax advantage is taken of the withdrawal to change the scene 
 slightly; naturally a slight interval of time is also supposed to 
 elapse, but in this instance this is negligible and without sig- 
 nificance. In the Eumenides the case is different. Here the 
 scene is not shifted a few rods merely but from Delphi clear to 
 Athens. As the crow flies this was a distance of about eighty 
 miles and, in view of the physical conditions and ancient methods 
 of travel, would require two or three days to traverse. Accord- 
 ingly a considerable lacuna in the dramatic time of the play 
 must be assumed. What is still more remarkable is that, except 
 for the empty stage, the spectators are given nothing to help 
 *' digest the abuse of distance." At vs. 80 Apollo dispatches 
 Orestes to the city of Pallas, at vs. 179 he begins to drive the 
 chorus of Furies from his shrine, at vs. 234 he leaves the stage 
 and the scene is empty. Up to this point we are still at Delphi. 
 In the very next verse (235) Orestes rushes into the theater and 
 exclaims, "0 queen Athena, I come at the bidding of Loxias." 
 He has reached Athens ! In Euripides' Alcestis the chorus forms 
 part of the queen's funeral cortege and is absent during vss. 
 747-860. Although it is not usually so regarded I am inclined 
 to think that there is a slight change of scene here (see p. 235,
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF PHYSICAL CONDITIONS 251 
 
 above) ; there is also a slight condensation of time, but neither 
 constitutes a serious violation of these unities. This is one of the 
 rare cases where the withdrawal of the chorus resulted naturally 
 from the normal development of the plot. For if the choreutae 
 Jiad been present when Heracles announced his intention of 
 rescuing Alcestis from death (vss. 840 S.) the poet must have 
 invented a reason for their not reporting this news to Admetus 
 or have spoiled certain features of the finale. It was much 
 simpler to avoid the difficulty by allowing the chorus to do the 
 natural thing. In the following instances apparently no change 
 of scene or undue compression of time is involved. In Euripides' 
 Helen (vs. 385) the chorus accompany their mistress inside the 
 palace to consult the seeress Theonoe and re-enter at vs. 515. 
 The only advantage that seems to accrue from this maneuver 
 is to prolong Menelaus' uncertainty as to the identity of his 
 newly recovered wife. In Aristophanes' Women in Council 
 (vs. 311) the women of the chorus, disguised as men, leave for 
 the assembly in order to vote the management of the state into 
 their own hands, returning at vs. 478. Unless the playwright 
 wished to have the assembly scene enacted before the audience 
 he had to withdraw the chorus. As it is their doings are reported 
 by a messenger (Chremes) in vss. 376 £f. In the pseudo- 
 Euripidean Rhesus the chorus is absent during vss. 565-674, being 
 sent in front of the camp to receive Dolon (cf. vss. 522 ff.). The 
 presence of Trojan guards would have prevented the intervening 
 scene between the Greek marauders, Odysseus and Diomedes. 
 It will be noted how few are the instances of the withdrawal 
 of the chorus in the extant plays and that the observance of the 
 unities figures in just half of them. In New Comedy the chorus 
 appeared only between acts (see p. 145) and it would have been 
 feasible to assume a lacuna several times in each play. That 
 this was not done was probably due to the fact that the other 
 practice had become stereotyped and that concentration of 
 action resulted in greater unity of plot. Sometimes the stage 
 is left empty before the entrance of the chorus by the retirement of 
 all the actors on the scene either between the prologue and the
 
 252 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 parodus or between monologues (or dialogues) in the prologue. 
 Euripides' Alcestis (vs. 77) furnishes an example of the former 
 and his Iphigenia among the Taurians (vs. 66) of the latter. So 
 far as I have observed such pauses are not made use of to 
 accelerate the time unduly. 
 
 Since it was not often possible to suspend the audience's 
 sense of time by removing the chorus, the poets had recourse 
 to the next best expedient, the choral odes. Inasmuch as several 
 of these occurred in every play, this artifice was far more avail- 
 able than the other. In many respects the chorus moved upon a 
 different plane from the actors, and we are now dealing with one 
 of these differences. As Professor Butcher expressed it: "The 
 interval covered by a choral ode is one whose value is just what 
 the poet chooses to make it. While the time occupied by the 
 dialogue has a relation more or less exact to real time, the choral 
 lyrics suspend the outward action of the play and carry us still 
 farther away from the world of reality. What happens in the 
 interval cannot be measured by any ordinary reckoning; it is 
 much or little as the needs of the piece demand. A change of 
 place directly obtrudes itself on the senses, but time is only what 
 it appears to the mind. The imagination travels easily over 
 many hours ; and in the Greek drama the time that elapses during 
 the songs of the chorus is entirely ideahzed" {op. cit., p. 293). 
 Thus the choral songs were roughly equivalent to the modern 
 intermission, and after them the action is often farther advanced 
 than the actual time required for chanting them would warrant. 
 For example, during a single stasimon of Aeschylus' Suppliants 
 (vss. 524-99) the Argive king must leave the scene, summon his 
 subjects to pubhc assembly, state the object of the meeting, and 
 allow discussion before the final vote — all in time for Danaus to 
 report the people's decision at the beginning of the following 
 episode ! An analogy to ancient practice occurs in Shakespeare's 
 The Winter's Tale, where Time as Chorus announces the passage 
 of sixteen years between Acts III and IV. 
 
 But at the same time that the chorus conferred this liberty 
 it restricted it. The presence of such a body of performers at
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF PHYSICAL CONDITIONS 253 
 
 all the scenes of a play could seldom be entirely natural. Yet 
 that the same persons should be found standing about, in the 
 same place, at various intervals during the day is conceivable, 
 though it does not often happen. But that they should be found 
 there at every moment chosen for representation during weeks 
 or months or years is inconceivable and ridiculous. Only by 
 shortening the supposed action of the piece and the supposed 
 lacunae in the plot could the convention be tolerated at all. 
 However, Professor Verrall was lacking in historical imagination 
 when he maintained that "the point at which the discrepancy 
 between the facts presented and the natural facts began to be 
 flagrant and intolerable was when the audience were told to 
 pass in imagination from day to day. Night is the great natural 
 interrupter of actions and changer of situations" {op. ciL, p. 1). 
 To the spoiled theatergoer of today this would seem to be true. 
 But the ancient drama knew no lighting effects (see p. 2 24, above) . 
 On the stage day and night looked the same to them. Scenes 
 at midday, in the darkness of night, in the gloom of Hades, were 
 alike enacted in the glare of the sun. Ostensibly the entire 
 action of the anonymous Rhesus and much of that in Euripides' 
 Cyclops fell within the hours of night, and characters frequently 
 addressed the heavenly constellations in (actual) daylight. So 
 far were the playwrights from avoiding the discrepancy involved 
 in passing from one day to another that in Terence's translation 
 of Menander's Self -Tormentor, when a night is supposed to 
 elapse between Acts II and III, attention is deliberately called 
 to it by Chremes' words, "It is beginning to grow light here 
 now" (vs. 410). In my opinion this play extends over about as 
 much time as the conditions which obtained in ancient drama 
 would normally allow; and it should be noted that it does not 
 exceed the twenty-four hours permitted by the unity of time. 
 In the third place, perhaps it is unnecessary to point out that 
 acceleration of time is possible in all drama quite apart from an 
 empty stage or choral songs. Instances can be cited even from 
 dramatists who owned no allegiance to the unities — note, for 
 example, the striking of the half -hour every twenty or twenty-five
 
 254 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 Knes at the close of Marlowe's Doctor Faustus. In Aristophanes' 
 Plutus the bHnd god is escorted from the stage for a night's 
 treatment in the temple of Asclepius (vs. 626), the chorus remain- 
 ing in its place but apparently not singing/ At the very next 
 verse one of the escort returns to announce that Plutus has 
 recovered his sight and to relate the events of the night! But 
 here again, despite the transition from one day to another, the 
 action does not exceed twenty-four hours. In the same writer's 
 Acharnians, Amphitheus goes from Athens to Sparta and returns 
 again during the dialogue contained between vss. 133 and 174. 
 There is no hint, however, that his reappearance is premature or 
 that his trip would occupy more than the apparent space 
 allotted it. 
 
 But neither the ordinary acceleration of time in drama nor 
 the use of stasima nor yet the stage left empty by the retirement 
 of chorus and actors tells the whole story of Greek practice. 
 Nowadays the playbill clearly informs us how much time has 
 elapsed between acts, and the piece is constructed accordingly. 
 If a character in the third act has occasion to refer to something 
 which occurred in the first act ten years or so ago he must not 
 speak of it as if it happened yesterday. Not so in ancient drama. 
 The Greek audiences had no playbills, and even the introductions 
 to Greek plays prepared by Alexandrian scholars contained no 
 such information as this. I fancy that the Greek dramatist 
 never laid his finger upon a given line and said: "Here we must 
 assume a lapse of several days, or months, or years." The 
 events of a drama, regardless of actuahties, were conventionally 
 treated as occupying no more than twenty-four hours. A like 
 convention was customary in the Greek epic: when once a 
 Homeric character was given a definite age or form he main- 
 tained each unchanged throughout.^ For example, Telemachus 
 is introduced in the first book of the Odyssey as a young man just 
 reaching his majority, ready and anxious to assume the duties of 
 
 I XOPOT is printed at this point in most editions but occurs in no manuscript 
 (see p. 14s, above); it has been inserted by the editors. 
 * Cf. Scott, Classical Philology, VIII (1913), 453 ff.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF PHYSICAL CONDITIONS 255 
 
 manhood; but nine years before, when he could not have been 
 more than twelve years of age, he is spoken of as just as old and 
 as already a man among men (cf. Book xi, vss, 185 f. and 449). 
 Again, in the third book of the Iliad, Helen is pictured in the 
 prime of youth and beauty; ten years later and thirty years 
 after her elopement with Paris she is likened to the same goddess 
 as is the Maiden Nausicaa (cf. Odyssey iv. 121 f. and vi. 102 flf.). 
 In Greek drama time relations are similarly ignored. At the 
 opening of Aeschylus' Agamemnon the watchman sights the 
 signal fire which announces the capture of Troy, and within a 
 few hundred lines Agamemnon has finished the sack, traversed 
 the Aegean, and appeared before his palace! No hint is given, 
 however, that there is anything unusual about all this; not a 
 word^ indicates that the action is disconnected at any point. 
 This is the most flagrant instance, and I conceive that it is 
 to be interpreted as follows : The performance of Greek drama 
 in the fifth century was continuous in the sense that with negli- 
 gible exceptions (see pp. 250 f., above) actors or chorus or both 
 were constantly before the audience. Notice that this is not 
 the same as saying that the time of the plays was continuous. 
 When critically examined it is found to have been interrupted 
 by numerous gaps, as we have already seen and shall see again. 
 But the continuity of performance gave a semblance of continuity 
 also to the action. Therefore when a modern playwright Hke 
 Pinero restricts his action to one day and represents the lapse 
 of several hours by the fall of the curtain between acts, he does 
 not thereby observe the unity of time in the Greek sense. The 
 dramatic events were tacitly treated by the poets as if they 
 occupied no more than a day and were so accepted by the public. 
 By "tacitly" I mean that if such crowding involved a physical 
 or moral impossibihty the dramatists never stooped to apologize 
 or explain but placed their events in juxtaposition just the same. 
 In Plautus' Captives, Philocrates travels from Aetolia (the scene 
 of action) to Elis and back again between vss. 460 and 768. In 
 
 I ndXat in vs. 587 is entirely subjective; cf. Conrad, The Technique ofConlinuous 
 
 Action in Roman Comedy (1915), pp. 22 fiE.
 
 256 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 real life such a trip would have required several days, but in the 
 play it consumes less than one! Do we positively know this ? 
 Beyond the shadow of a doubt. A parasite is introduced at 
 intervals during the play scheming to be invited to a meal. 
 He is first seen at vs. 69 and does not get a satisfactory invitation 
 until vs. 897. A more detailed statement would show conclu- 
 sively that the same day's meal is under discussion throughout. 
 Moreover, this is no mere lapsus calami, such as a few phrases 
 which are found in an opposite sense,* but is unmistakable in its 
 import and is closely interwoven with the plot. If anyone feels 
 amazed at so dehberate a contradiction he may console himself 
 with a study of the use of "double time" in Shakespeare. It 
 would be possible, but is quite unnecessary, to cite other plays 
 in which restriction of time to a single day is indicated with 
 sufficient exactness. Of course the Greek dramatists did not 
 consistently introduce references to the precise date or to the 
 time of day. In general they were wise enough to act upon the 
 principle which Corneille^ expressed as follows: "Above all I 
 would leave the length of the action to the imagination of the 
 hearers, and never determine the time, if the subject does not 
 
 require it What need is there to mark at the opening 
 
 of the play that the sun is rising, that it is noon at the third 
 act, and sunset at the end of the last?" 
 
 It is somewhat remarkable that Professor Verrall, who fuUy 
 recognized the dependence of this unity upon local conditions 
 and published eminently sensible observations on the subject, 
 nevertheless felt constrained to challenge the obvious inter- 
 pretation of two plays in which a glaring violation of the unity of 
 time occurs. In the Agamemnon he supposed the watchman and 
 the populace (including the chorus) to be misinformed as to the 
 meaning of the beacon and that it really served to Clytemnestra, 
 Aegisthus, and their supporters as a warning of Agamemnon's 
 
 ' For example, the slips which occur in Aristophanes' Lysisiraia (vss. 725 
 and 881). 
 
 ' Cf . Discours des trois unites, I, 113 f. (Regnier's edition), quoted by 
 Butcher, op. cit., pp. 294 f.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF PHYSICAL CONDITIONS 257 
 
 being close at hand! His elucidation of Euripides' Andromache 
 was still more ingenious and complicated/ But to bolster up 
 such interpretations Mr. Verrall ought to have explained away 
 all similar instances as well — to explain, for example, how in 
 Euripides' Suppliants an Attic army can march from Eleusis to 
 the vicinity of Thebes and fight a battle there, and how tidings 
 of the victory can be brought back to Eleusis, all between vss. 
 598 and 634, which, as Dryden^ expressed it, "is not for every 
 mile a verse." Nevertheless not the slightest attention is paid 
 to such patent impossibilities, and in every case the whole action 
 is unmistakably supposed to fall within a day. 
 
 In view of the foregoing it is not surprising that Aristotle 
 does mention the unity of time, though only incidentally. His 
 exact language is: "Tragedy and epic differ, again, in their 
 length : for tragedy endeavors, so far as possible, to keep within 
 a single circuit of the sun (7repto5os riKiov), or but slightly to 
 exceed this Hmit; whereas the epic action has no Hmits of time."* 
 "Endeavors" (Tretparat) was mistranslated as doit by some 
 French writers. Aristotle rather commends the unity of time 
 as a rough generalization which works out well in practice than 
 enjoins it as an invariable rule. Actually the restriction was 
 further reduced, in most cases, to the hours of daylight, and 
 Dacier even maintained that TreptoSos 17X101; means no more than 
 twelve hours. But Aristophanes' Plutus and Terence's Self- 
 Tormentor (see pp. 253 f., above) furnish clear examples of dra- 
 matic action beginning in the late afternoon of one day and not 
 concluding until the next day. 
 
 It remains to consider some of the expedients which the poets 
 found useful in solving the difficulties (both of time and place) 
 caused by local conditions. In the first place the practice of 
 writing a series of three plays on the same general subject (see 
 p. 198, above) often enabled the playwright to distribute his 
 
 ' Cf. the introduction to his edition of the Agamemnon, and Four Plays of 
 Euripides, pp. 1-42. 
 
 * Cf, Dramatic Essays (Everyman's Library edition), p. 18. 
 3 Cf. Poetics 1449612-14.
 
 258 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 incidents in different places and time-spheres without loss of 
 A erisimilitude, for a whole trilogy was about as long as the average 
 modern play, and each tragedy would thus correspond to a single 
 act and, since the chorus was withdrawn at the close of each play 
 in the trilogy and its place taken by another entirely different, 
 changes of time and place between plays were absolutely without 
 restriction. Thus Scythia of Aeschylus' Prometheus Bound be- 
 comes Caucasus in the second piece in the trilogy, the Prome- 
 theus Unbound; in the former was shown the binding of the 
 Titan and in the latter his release, and he is said to have been 
 bound for 30,000 years. All but two days of this time elapses 
 between plays! In Aeschylus' Orestean trilogy the scene of the 
 Agamemnon and Libation-Bearers is laid in Argos; that of the 
 Eumenides in Delphi and Athens. Several years are supposed 
 to pass by in the two interims. 
 
 But even Aeschylus did not always employ the trilogic form, 
 and Sophocles and Euripides rarely did. When, therefore, the 
 three or four plays in each series were severally devoted to utterly 
 um-elated material, it sometimes became necessary to bring 
 almost as many events within the scope of one play as would 
 otherwise be dealt with in a whole trilogy. Inasmuch as a large 
 fraction of these events could not possibly be conceived of as 
 taking place in the same locality or within the same day, it was 
 imperative either to exclude them or to include them in some 
 indirect fashion. Now two striking peculiarities of Euripidean 
 technique were admirably adapted to help solve these difficulties. 
 His prologues regularly take the form of a monologue, which, 
 with scant regard for dramatic illusion, rehearses the story of 
 the myth up to the point where the play begins. Again, Eu- 
 ripides' dramas frequently terminate with the epiphany of a 
 deity. This device was the accustomed recourse of unskifful 
 playwrights, when their plots had become complicated beyond 
 the possibility of disentanglement by natural means, in order 
 that a god's fiat might resolve all difficulties. It has often been 
 charged that this was also Euripides' motive, but most unjustly 
 (see pp. 293 ff., below). He rather "wished, by the help of a
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF PHYSICAL CONDITIONS 259 
 
 divine foreknowledge, to put before the spectators such future 
 events or unknown circumstances as should settle their minds, 
 satisfy all curiosity, and connect the subject of the piece with 
 subsequent events or even with the times of living men."^ 
 Thus in Euripides' Andromache the compHcations of the plot are 
 entirely solved before Thetis' appearance at vs. 1231, and she 
 merely gives directions for Neoptolemus' burial and prophesies 
 the future of Peleus, Andromache, and Molossus, and of the 
 latter's posterity. When these two pieces of technique were 
 combined in the same play, the prologue, the body of the tragedy, 
 and the epilogue sometimes corresponded roughly to the suc- 
 cessive dramas of a whole trilogy. This appears most clearly 
 in the case of Euripides' Electra and Aeschylus' Orestean trilogy. 
 The opening monologue of the former (vss. 1-53) passes in 
 rapid review the Greek expedition against Troy, the murder 
 of Agamemnon, and the present fate of his children. With the 
 exception of the last item, which is brought out in the second 
 play of the Oresteia, these are the matters contained in the pro- 
 logue, which naturally is comparatively short, and in the action 
 of Aeschylus' Agamemnon. The body of the Electra corresponds 
 to the second tragedy in the trilogy, the Libation-Bearers. At 
 the Electra' s conclusion (vs. 1238) Castor as deus ex machina 
 forecasts among other things the acquittal of Orestes at Athens, 
 which is the theme of Aeschylus' Eumenides. Whatever other 
 explanations, therefore, may be advanced for Euripides' pro- 
 logues and epilogues (see pp. 294 f. and 299 f., below) this 
 consideration must also be allowed a certain weight, viz., that 
 they permitted him to bring events of the most diverse nature 
 within the scope of his piece without violating the unities of time 
 and place. 
 
 A fourth device looking to the same ends consisted in setting 
 conversations at times and places which would naturally be 
 different. Even such a master of dramatic technique as 
 Sophocles represented Orestes as communicating to his fellow- 
 conspirators the result of his inquiry at Delphi only after they 
 
 ' Cf. England's edition of Euripides' Iphigenia at Aulis, p. xxvii.
 
 26o THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 had reached Argos {Eledra, vss. 32 ff.), and as waiting to for- 
 mulate a definite plan of action until they were in the most 
 unfavorable place in all the world for such a purpose — before 
 Clytemnestra's palace (vss. 15 ff.)- The latter incongruity does 
 not occur in Euripides' version of the same story because the 
 scene of his Electra is laid, not in the city of Argos, but before 
 Electra's hut in the country. The device under consideration 
 was conveniently supplemented by the convention that if two 
 or more characters enter the stage together no conversation is 
 thought of as passing between them until they have come within 
 the hearing of the audience (see p. 310, below). It will be seen 
 that the passage just cited from Sophocles' Electra conforms to 
 this rule. Another instance occurs in Euripides' Madness of 
 Heracles, vss. 822 ff. Iris appears above Heracles' palace with 
 Madness, whom she orders to incite the hero to the murder of his 
 children. Madness protests but is overborne and forced to 
 perform her bidding. Though Iris and Madness must have 
 come a considerable distance together, all discourse between 
 them is apparently postponed until they reach their destination. 
 Furthermore, these instructions would naturally have been given 
 to Madness elsewhere and somewhat earher. In that case the 
 audience must have lost an effective scene. The device dis- 
 cussed in this paragraph enabled the poet to circumvent the 
 unities and place the scene before his audience; and the con- 
 vention which I have mentioned preserved it for them in its 
 entirety. 
 
 We have seen that the unities of time and place are largely due 
 to the striving for illusion in a theater comparatively bare of 
 scenery and of facilities for scene-shifting. Conversely, their 
 observance in the modern theater with its ample scenic provision 
 would naturally miUtate against the scenic extravagance and 
 actualism of which the present-day theatocracy is so enamored. 
 Thus it would seem that the much-abused unities are not 
 without a meaning and truly artistic tendency even today, for 
 some of the most significant influences in contemporaneous 
 staging are directed against excesses along these lines. Even
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF PHYSICAL CONDITIONS 26 1 
 
 a modern producer, Henry W. Savage, included the following 
 in his advice to a young playwright: *'Do not distribute your 
 scenes so widely that you have one on an island, another at 
 Herald Square, and a third at Chicago. Make the action of your 
 play take place all in one day, if possible "^^ — ^in other words 
 the unity of time expressly and an approximation to the unity 
 of place. Ibsen surely retained no theatrical conventions merely 
 because they were old; yet he usually observed the unities. 
 A recent critic has written: "Though the unities of time and 
 place were long ago exploded as binding principles — indeed, they 
 never had any authority in English drama — yet it is true that a 
 broken-backed action, whether in time or space, ought, so far as 
 possible, to be avoided. An action with a gap of twenty years 
 in it may be all very well in melodrama and romance, but scarcely 
 in higher and more serious types of drama. "^ 
 
 The unity of action is the only one that is universal, since it 
 alone springs from the inmost nature of the drama. Yet even 
 here local conditions make themselves felt. The modern play- 
 wright, free (if he pleases and has a producer complaisant 
 enough) to change the scene ten times within a single act and 
 with superior facilities for motivating entrances and exits, 
 delights in shifting different sets of characters back and forth 
 and thus secures an alternation of light and shade, an inter- 
 mingling of comedy and tragedy quite beyond the ancient 
 dramatist's reach. The preceding discussion has shown the 
 immobihty of the ancient theater in these respects and, conse- 
 quently, one reason why the Greeks ruthlessly excluded every- 
 thing that was not strictly germane to their action (see also 
 p. 201, above). 
 
 This unity, it is needless to say, plays an important part in 
 Aristotle's Poetics. He recognized that "plot is the first essential 
 and soul of tragedy and that character comes second."^ The 
 most lengthy statement runs as follows: "Let us now discuss 
 the proper construction of the plot, as that is both the first and 
 
 ' Cf. The Bookman, XXX (1909), 37. 
 
 ^ Cf. Archer, Play-making, pp. 123 f. J Cf. Poetics 1450038 f.
 
 262 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 the most important thing in tragedy. We have laid it down that 
 tragedy is an imitation of an action that is complete and whole, 
 having a certain magnitude, for there is also a whole that is 
 wanting in magnitude. Now a whole is that which has a 
 beginning, a middle, and an end. A beginning is that which is 
 not itself necessarily after anything else and after which some- 
 thing else naturally is or comes to be; an end, on the contrary, 
 is that which itself naturally follows some other thing either as its 
 necessary or usual consequent, and has nothing else after it; 
 and a middle is that which is both itself after one thing and has 
 some other thing after it. Accordingly, well-constructed plots 
 must neither begin nor end at haphazard points, but must 
 conform to the types just mentioned."^ These principles were 
 excellently restated by Lowell : 
 
 In a play we not only expect a succession of scenes, but that each 
 scene should lead, by a logic more or less stringent, if not to the next, at 
 any rate to something that is to follow, and that all should contribute their 
 fraction of impulse towards the inevitable catastrophe. That is to say, the 
 structure should be organic, with a necessary and harmonious connection 
 and relation of parts, and not merely mechanical with an arbitrary or hap- 
 hazard joining of one part to another. It is in the former sense alone that 
 any production can be called a work of art.^ 
 
 Though it is now admitted on all sides that the unity of 
 action is the sine qua non of dramatic composition, many fail to 
 realize the meaning and extent of its limitation. Aristotle 
 indicated a mistaken notion current in his day, and hkewise in 
 ours, in the following words: "The unity of a plot does not 
 consist, as some suppose, in its having one man as its subject. 
 An infinite multitude of things befall that one man, some of 
 which it is impossible to reduce to unity, and so, too, there are 
 many actions of one man which cannot be made to form one 
 action. Hence, the error, as it appears, of all the poets who have 
 composed a Heracleid, a Theseid, or similar poems. They sup- 
 pose that, because Heracles was one man, the story also of 
 Heracles must be one story. "^ Freytag discussed the matter 
 
 ' Cf. Poetics 1450&22-35. 
 
 ' Cf. The Old English Dramatists, III. ^ Cf. Poetics 1451015-22.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF PHYSICAL CONDITIONS 263 
 
 with keen discrimination and exemplified it by showing how 
 Shakespeare remodeled the more or less chaotic story of Romeo 
 and Juliet's love into a unified plot whose incidents follow one 
 another almost as inexorably as Fate. The passage is unfortu- 
 nately too long for quotation here, but is highly instructive/ 
 
 The same reasoning reveals the shortcoming in Professor 
 Lounsbury's contention: "What, indeed, is the objection to this 
 mixture of the serious and the comic in the same play ? By it is 
 certainly represented, as it is not in pure comedy or pure tragedy, 
 the life we actually live and the mingled elements that compose 
 
 it As there was no question that sadness and mirth were 
 
 constantly intermixed in real life, it was impossible to maintain 
 that the illegitimacy of this form of dramatic composition was 
 due to its improbabihty."^ The word "pure" gives away the 
 whole case. Aristotle would have to grant that Shakespeare's 
 plays are admirable, even sublime; but he could hardly admit 
 that they were "pure" tragedies or "pure" comedies, however 
 legitimate in other respects. They fall short in the quahty 
 which Mr. Albert H. Brown placed in the forefront of his defini- 
 tion: "A great drama is a clearly focused picture of human 
 conditions." 
 
 Aristotle also pointed out that epic poetry has an advantage 
 in that it can present many events simultaneously transacted, 
 while the drama is restricted to but one.^ A curious violation 
 of this self-evident principle occurred in a recent American play. 
 Toward the end of Act II in Eugene Walter's Paid in Full, 
 Emma Brooks is disclosed making an appointment with Captain 
 Williams over the telephone. In the next act we are transferred 
 to Captain Williams' quarters, and the dramatic clock has in 
 the meanwhile been turned back some fifteen minutes, for 
 presently the telephone bell rings and the same appointment is 
 made over again. In other words. Act III partially overlaps 
 Act II in time, but the scene is different. It can scarcely be 
 
 ' Cf . Technique of the Drama, MacEwan's translation^ pp. 30 ff. 
 * Cf. Shakespeare as a Dramatic Artist (1902), pp. 150 f. 
 ^ Cf. Poetics 1459622-28.
 
 264 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 denied that the dramatic situation has been enhanced by this 
 device, but this gain has been secured at the sacrifice of veri- 
 similitude and dramatic illusion. Such "cut-backs" may be all 
 very well in moving picures, but they hardly have a place in 
 spoken drama. 
 
 Thus, the Greek masters were so far from evolving unities 
 out of their inner consciousness or from observing them invari- 
 ably that they constantly violated the unities of time and place 
 in both letter and spirit. Their practice throughout simply 
 reacted to theatrical conditions as they found them. It has 
 remained for their successors, whose theater has for the most part 
 been quite dissimilar, to observe the unities with a literalness 
 and exactness such as never characterized the great dramatists 
 of Greece. That both ancients and moderns have produced 
 masterpieces under these restrictions is, of course, beyond dis- 
 pute. In fact, some of our most impressive plays of recent date 
 such as Kennedy's Servant in the House, have conformed to them. 
 That many modern plays would have been improved by observ- 
 ing them is doubtless also true. Even so uncompromising an 
 admirer of Shakespeare as Professor Lounsbury^ wrote: 
 
 Let it not be imagined, however, that any attempt is made here to deny 
 the merit of modern plays which observe the unities, or to maintain that a 
 powerful drama cannot be produced upon the lines they prescribe. Such 
 a contention would be only repeating on the side of the opponents of this 
 doctrine the erroneous assumptions which its advocates put forth. He who 
 ventures to take a position so extreme can hardly escape a feeling of serious 
 discomfort if called upon, in consequence, to decry the productions of 
 Corneille, Racine, and Mohere, to say nothing of some of the most brilUant 
 pieces which have adorned the English stage. Nor, furthermore, need it 
 be denied that there are conditions in which the observance of the unities 
 may be a positive advantage. Especially will this be the case when the 
 characters are few and all the incidents of the plot are directed to the 
 accomplishment of a single result. The concentration of the action is likely 
 to contribute, in such pieces, to the effect of the representation. He who 
 sets out to imitate the simplicity of the Greek drama will usually find him- 
 self disposed to adopt, as far as possible, its form. Within its limitations 
 great work can be accomplished by the drama which regards the unities, 
 and, to some extent, it will be great work because of its limitations. 
 
 ' Cf. op. cit., p. 92.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF PHYSICAL CONDITIONS 265 
 
 But that the unities should be arbitrarily imposed upon every 
 drama without exception is absurd, since the theatrical conditions 
 that called them forth are no longer the same. That Aeschylus 
 and Sophocles, if present with us in the flesh, would avail 
 themselves of the greater flexibility and adaptabihty of the 
 modern theater I cannot doubt. At any rate that restless spirit, 
 Euripides, would certainly have gloried in its freedom. 
 
 As a cumulative result of the conditions already described 
 the action of a Greek drama was restricted to the culmination 
 alone, corresponding to the fifth act of most modern plays. 
 Though we have seen that the Greek poets arbitrarily juxtaposed, 
 as if within the confines of a sun's circuit, events which were 
 actually separated by considerable intervals, yet even the 
 widest license would hardly permit a whole series of transactions, 
 of sufficient dignity and importance to be chosen for tragic 
 representation, to be compressed within a single day and Hmited 
 to a single spot. As Dryden^ expressed it, the ancient play- 
 wrights "set the audience, as it were, at the post where the race 
 is to be concluded; and, saving them the tedious expectation of 
 seeing the poet set out and ride the beginning of the course, they 
 suffer you not to behold him, till he is in sight of the goal, and 
 just upon you." Thus in Aeschylus' Suppliants we see nothing 
 of the unwelcome suit of Aegyptus' sons and of the events which 
 led the daughters of Danaus to take refuge in flight. All this 
 lies in the past and is brought before us indirectly. The action 
 begins when the Danaids have reached another land and are on 
 the point of being overtaken by their cousins. Similarly, in 
 Euripides' Alcestis we learn by hearsay the long story of Apollo's 
 servitude at the court of Admetus, of his providing a way of 
 escape from death for the king, and of the latter's disheartening 
 search for a substitute. Only the final stage in the action, the 
 day of the queen's self-immolation and rescue, is chosen for 
 actual representation. The same situation recurs in almost 
 every piece. Of course in trilogies it was possible to select 
 three different time-spheres and three different localities for the 
 
 ' Cf. Dramatic Essays (Everyman's Library edition), pp. 12 f.
 
 266 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 dramatic action. But here again only the crests of three crises in 
 the story were put before the spectators' eyes; all the rest was 
 narrated. So invariable a method of attack would seem monoto- 
 nous to us today, but its successful employment by Ibsen and 
 many another in modern times proves that there is nothing 
 blameworthy in the practice per se. 
 
 Finally, since the dramatic action was confined to a single 
 day (however elastic) at the culmination of the story, it was rarely 
 possible for the dramatis personae to experience any particular 
 change or development of character during the course of the 
 play. This fixity of type was not only a natural result of theat- 
 rical conditions in ancient times and of the use of masks but was 
 also in thorough accord with Homeric conventions (see pp. 254f ., 
 above). Moreover, it harmonized completely with the Greek 
 fondness for schematization. Horace's words in his Ars Poetica 
 are entirely Hellenic in spirit: *' Either follow tradition, or 
 invent that which shall be self-consistent. In the former case, 
 let Achilles be impatient, irascible, ruthless, keen . . . . ; let 
 Medea be untamed and unconquerable, Ino tearful, Ixion treach- 
 erous, lo ever roving, and Orestes in sorry plight. In the latter 
 case, keep the character to the end of the play as it was at the 
 beginning and let it be consistent" (vss. iipff.)- All this imphes 
 more than we would think desirable today. Not only was a 
 positive development into a character seemingly inharmonious 
 with that seen at first rarely possible, but the singleness of pur- 
 pose in ancient plays, which has been called the unity of mood 
 (see p. 20 1, above), crowded out incidents which might have 
 revealed other phases, no matter how consistent, of a dramatic 
 personage's character. The taste of some critics objected to even 
 the slight modifications in role which ancient conditions did 
 permit. For example, to modern readers the manner in which 
 Medea, in Euripides' tragedy of that name, wavers between love 
 for her children and the desire to punish her recreant husband by 
 murdering them is esteemed one of the finest touches in ancient 
 drama. But the Greek argument which is prefixed to this play 
 reports that "they blame Euripides because he did not maintain 
 
 -I
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF PHYSICAL CONDITIONS 267 
 
 Medea's role but allowed her to burst into tears as she plotted 
 against Jason and his second wife." Again, so excellent a critic 
 as Aristotle cites the title role in Euripides' Iphigenia at Aulis as 
 an example of inconsistency/ inasmuch as the Iphigenia who 
 pleads for her life at vss. 1 2 1 1 ff . in no wise resembles her later self, 
 who willingly approaches the altar. To modern feehng, since the 
 change is psychologically possible and is plausibly motived by 
 the sudden realization that her death can serve her country, it 
 seems entirely unobjectionable. But these two passages and the 
 usual practice of the Greek stage reveal a discrepancy between 
 the ancient and the modern points of view. The simplicity of 
 character-drawing which resulted from Greek methods is 
 strikingly described, in a different connection, by Mr. Cornford : 
 
 Agamemnon, for instance, is simply Hybris typified in a legendary 
 person. He is a hero flown with "insolence" (the pride and elation of 
 victory), and that is all that can be said of him. He is not, like a charac- 
 ter in Ibsen, a complete human being with a complex personality, a center 
 from which relations radiate to innumerable points of contact in a universe 
 of indifferent fact. He has not a continuous history: nothing has ever 
 happened to him except the conquest of Troy and the sacrifice of Iphigenia ; 
 nothing ever could happen to him except Pride's fall and the stroke of the 
 axe. As we see him he is not a man, but a single state of mind, which has 
 never been preceded by other states of mind (except one, at the sacrifice in 
 AuUs), but is isolated, without context, margin, or atmosphere. Every 
 word he says, in so far as he speaks for himself and not for the poet, comes 
 straight out of that state of mind and expresses some phase of it. He has a 
 definite relation to Cassandra, a definite relation to Clytemnestra; but no 
 relation to anything else. If he can be said to have a character at all it con- 
 sists solely of certain defects which make him liable to Insolence; if he has 
 any circumstances, they are only those which prompt him to his besetting 
 passion.* 
 
 ' Cf. Poetics i454a3i ff. 
 
 ' Cf. Thucydides Mythistoricus (1907), p. 146.
 
 There seems no human thought so 
 primitive as to have lost its bearing on 
 our own thought, nor so ancient as to 
 have broken its connection with our own 
 life.— E. B. Tylor. 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 THE INFLUENCE OF NATIONAL CUSTOMS AND IDEAS' 
 
 It is unnecessary to state that the differences between ancient 
 life in Greece and modern hfe in America and Western Europe 
 are endless. To attempt to enumerate them all would require 
 a separate volume. In the present chapter I shall undertake 
 to touch upon some of the features which more intimately 
 affected Greek drama. 
 
 First of all a modern can scarcely avoid a feeling of surprise 
 that plays were almost always brought out in competition; but 
 no instinct was more thoroughly imbedded in the Greek con- 
 sciousness than this. From the time of the first celebration of 
 the Olympian games in 776 B.C. or before, a contest of some kind 
 formed, to their minds, the most natural setting for the display 
 of athletic, musical, and literary skill. Associated with this 
 fact was another, viz., that the prizes awarded upon these 
 occasions were usually more honorific than intrinsically valuable. 
 The victors in the Olympian games received a garland of wild 
 olive and a palm branch. It is true that the delighted fellow- 
 citizens of the victors usually supplemented the award by some- 
 thing more substantial, but the fact remains that these trivial 
 objects were the sole official reward for many arduous months of 
 preparation and training. In Hke manner we are informed by 
 the most ancient tradition that the original prize in tragic 
 
 ' In addition to the works mentioned on pp. xvii and xx f ., above, cf. Petersen 
 Preisrictiter der grossen Dionysien (1878); Hayley, "Social and Domestic Position 
 of Women in Aristophanes," Harvard Studies, I (1890), 159 ff.; Lounsbury, 
 Shakespeare as a Dramatic Artist (1902); Goodwin's edition of Demosthenes' 
 Against Midias, Appendix IV (1906); Capps, "Epigraphical Problems in the 
 History of Attic Comedy," American Journal of Philology, XXVIII (1907), 179 ff.; 
 Legrand, Daos; Tableau de la comedie grecque pendant la periode dite nouvelle 
 (1910), translated by Loeb in 1917 under the title The New Greek Comedy; Shep- 
 pard, Greek Tragedy (191 1); and Ruppel, Konzeption und Ausarheitung der aris- 
 tophanischen Komodien (1913). 
 
 268
 
 INFLUENCE OF NATIONAL CUSTOMS AND IDEAS 269 
 
 contests was a goat (see p. 13 f. above) ; and what is more, it is 
 said to have been customary for the victorious poet to offer up 
 his prize in immediate sacrifice to the god of the festival. After 
 the reorganization of the City Dionysia about 501 B.C., however, 
 it seems Hkely that pecuniary awards were estabhshed for the 
 tragic victors. Though we are in ignorance as to their amount, 
 some notion can be formed from the fact that prizes of ten, eight, 
 and six minae,' respectively, were granted dithj^rambic victors 
 at the Piraeus festival toward the close of the fourth century B.C. 
 Three prizes seem to have been available in tragedy at the City 
 Dionysia also, so that every contestant was sure of some 
 compensation. In other words, to be chosen to compete at all 
 was sufficient honor to entitle even the poorest of the three to a 
 suitable reward. Only the winner of the first prize, however, 
 was technically regarded as ''victor." In comedy, according to 
 tradition, the original prize was a jar of wine, which likewise 
 gave place to financial awards after comedy came under state 
 control at the City Dionysia of 486 B.C. These arrangements 
 were extended to the Lenaea, when first comedy and then 
 tragedy were introduced there (see p. 1 19, above), and to contests 
 between actors, as these were established at the two festivals 
 (see p. 202, above). The successful playwrights, actors, and 
 ''choregi" (see below) seem to have been crowned with garlands 
 of ivy by the presiding archon — the archon eponymus at the 
 City Dionysia and the king archon at the Lenaea. 
 
 In several particulars the government under which the 
 Athenians lived was indirect in its provisions. For example, 
 though valuable mines belonged to the state, they were not 
 worked by government officials but were leased to private 
 parties. Accordingly, although the dramatic festivals were 
 under the direct control of the state, the financial management 
 was relegated to lessees, who agreed to keep the theater in repair 
 and to pay a stipulated sum into the pubhc treasury in return for 
 
 ' A mina was equivalent to one hundred drachmae and was worth about $18, 
 though allowance must be made for the greater purchase value of money in those 
 days.
 
 270 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 the privilege of collecting an admission fee. During the fourth 
 century B.C. the lessees of the Piraeus theater paid thirty-three 
 minae annually. This system explains why the authorities, 
 when they wished to enable even the poorest citizens to attend 
 the dramatic exhibitions, did not simply throw open the doors to 
 all or issue passes. Instead, toward the end of the fifth century 
 it was provided that any citizen might receive two obols from 
 the "theoric" fund in order to pay his own way into the day's 
 performances (see p. 120, above). 
 
 Another instance of the indirect exercise of governmental 
 functions is seen in the practice of various kinds of "pubHc 
 service" (XeLTovpyla). Thus when the Board of Generals had 
 provided the hull of a warship ("trireme") they did not proceed 
 also to rig it and to hire a commander. Instead some rich 
 citizen was required to contribute toward its rigging and upkeep 
 and to command it for one year. This obhgation was laid upon 
 the wealthier citizens in rotation; and if anyone considered that 
 he was being called upon too frequently or that someone of 
 greater substance was escaping his just responsibihties, he could 
 challenge him to an exchange of property {dvTidocns). Accord- 
 ing to law the man so challenged was restricted to the two options 
 of either assuming the burden or trading estates. This system 
 of liturgies appUed to the maintenance not only of the naval 
 service but also of dramatic and dithyrambic contests, the torch 
 race, etc. It was provided that no one need act as trierarch 
 more frequently than once in three years, bear any liturgy two 
 successive years, or two liturgies in the same year. But it was 
 the glory of Athenian citizenship that they served oftener and 
 spent their means more generously than the law demanded. 
 The bearers of the theatrical liturgies were called chorcgi 
 (xopvyol), and there was no surer method of displaying one's 
 wealth and of currying favor with the populace than by voluntary 
 and lavish assumption of the choregia. The evidence is not 
 sufficient to establish just how the charges were distributed. 
 The state seems to have paid the actors, and the choregus to 
 have been responsible for assembling and hiring a body of
 
 INFLUENCE OF NATIONAL CUSTOMS AND IDEAS 271 
 
 choreutae, engaging a trainer to drill them, purchasing or renting 
 costumes for the chorus, employing mute characters, providing 
 showy extras of various kinds, etc. As regards the flute-player 
 a distinction was perhaps drawn between the dithyrambic and 
 dramatic contests, the state employing him in the former and the 
 choregus in the latter. The question of an additional actor has 
 already been discussed (see pp. 172-82, above). A speaker in 
 one of Lysias' orations^ claims to have spent, within a period of 
 seven years, thirty minae for a tragic choregia, sixteen minae for 
 one in comedy, fifty minae for a dithyrambic chorus of men, fif- 
 teen minae for a chorus of boys, three hundred and sixty minae 
 for six trierarchies, twelve minae as gymnasiarch, etc. Since this 
 man's ambition led him to do more than his share, these outlays 
 are probably somewhat larger than they need to have been; 
 in fact, he declares that the law would not have required of him 
 one-fourth as much. But in addition to indicating how much 
 some were willing to spend, the figures are valuable also as 
 showing the comparative expense of the different events. Need- 
 less to state, a poet's chance of victory was considerably affected 
 by the wealth and disposition of his choregus. An ambitious 
 and lavish man like Nicias, who is declared by Plutarch^ never 
 to have been worsted in any of his numerous choregias, could 
 manifestly do much to retrieve a poor play. But woe betide the 
 plajrwright whose success was largely in the keeping of a sponsor 
 who would spend no more than law and public opinion could 
 wring from him. In 405 and 404 B.C., while Athens was experi- 
 encing a financial stringency just before the close of the Pelopon- 
 nesian War, the number of choregi at the City Dionysia was 
 temporarily doubled, so that two synchoregi might divide be- 
 tween them the burden which normally fell to one man. Finally 
 about 308 B.C. the dearth of rich men caused the abandonment 
 of the choregic system and the annual appointment of an 
 agonothete (ayoivodeTrjs) or ''master of contests," whose own re- 
 sources were supplemented by a state subsidy and who assumed 
 
 ' Cf. Lysias xxi, §§ 1-5. 
 ' Cf . his Life of Nicias, III.
 
 2 72 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 entire control and financial responsibility for all the dithyram- 
 bic and dramatic contests at the festival. 
 
 One of the most characteristic features of the Athenian 
 democracy was the" large role assigned to the lot in the selection 
 of officials. For example, in Aristotle's day the nine archons 
 were chosen by lot from five hundred men, who had themselves 
 been previously chosen by lot, fifty from each of the ten tribes. 
 Whatever may have been the other objects of this system, at 
 least one was the prevention of bribery and manipulation; and 
 without a doubt this was the motive which led to the use of the 
 lot in theatrical matters. Thus the judges in the contests seem, 
 though the scheme is largely conjectural and depends upon 
 insufficient notices, to have been selected and to have rendered 
 decisions somewhat as follows : Some days before the festival a 
 certain number of names was taken from each tribe and deposited 
 in ten sealed urns on the Acropolis. Just before the contest 
 began, these vessels were brought into the theater and the pre- 
 siding archon drew one name from each tribal urn. The men so 
 chosen came forward and swore to judge truly. When the 
 performances were over, each judge wrote down his verdict and 
 the ten ballots were placed in a single urn. The archon now 
 drew out half of these, which were alone used in arriving at the 
 ultimate decision! So cumbersome a system can be justified 
 only by its results; and it must be allowed that, so far as we can 
 now determine, no poet suffered any great injustice from its 
 operation. The playwrights usually won whom later critics 
 were unanimous in considering the greatest. Each of the tragic 
 triad wrote about one hundred plays: Aeschylus, whose career 
 fell before the admission of tragedy to the Lenaea, gained 
 thirteen victories at the City Dionysia; Sophocles, eighteen City 
 and at least two Lenaean victories; and Euripides, fifteen (or 
 possibly only five) victories at both festivals (see p. 325, below). 
 It must be remembered that several plays would be simultane- 
 ously crowned at each victory in tragedy (see p. 198, above) . The 
 most astounding reversal occurred when Philocles, Aeschylus' 
 mediocre nephew, defeated Sophocles' didascalic group in which
 
 INFLUENCE OF NATIONAL CUSTOMS AND IDEAS 273 
 
 was included his Oedipus the King, perhaps the greatest tragedy 
 of ancient times! However, this apparent lapse of judgment is 
 p6ssibly to be explained by the factor mentioned in the last 
 paragraph, a parsimonious choregus. 
 
 The lot was employed also in another connection. Imme- 
 diately after the beginning of each civil year in Hecatombaeon 
 (July), the archon eponymus and the king archon attended to the 
 appointment of tragic choregi for the City Dionysia and the 
 Lenaean festival, respectively. During the fifth century they 
 chose the comic choregi as well, but Aristotle informs us that in 
 his day their selection was managed by the tribes.^ After this 
 detail had been arranged the archons proceeded to "grant a 
 chorus" to a suitable number of playwrights. For this purpose 
 doubtless an untried poet was required to submit a more or less 
 finished copy of what he wished to produce; from seasoned 
 writers probably the presentation of a scenario or even less was 
 deemed sufi&cient. At any rate Dr. Ruppel has shown that in 
 Aristophanes' comedies the plot was sometimes essentially 
 modified by or even integrally depended upon events which took 
 place but a few weeks before the festival. It is evident that the 
 archons exercised considerable discretion in selecting the play- 
 wrights; at least we are told that no less a personage than 
 Sophocles was once refused a chorus when one was granted to 
 an obscure Gnesippus.^ When poets and choregi had finally 
 been chosen, the troublesome task of matching them still con- 
 fronted the oflScials. Naturally the important consequences 
 which we have seen to grow out of the assignment of a generous 
 or niggardly choregus to a poet served only to enhance the 
 difficulty of the situation. And in the Hght of what has just 
 been said concerning the Athenian fondness for the lot, it is not 
 surprising that the problem was met by its use. After the actors 
 passed from private to public management, about 449 B.C. 
 (see p. 183, above), the lot was employed also to distribute the 
 protagonists among the dramatists. In the fourth century the 
 
 * Cf. Aristotle, Constitution of A thens, c. 56. 
 
 ' Cf. Kock, Coniicorum Atticorum Fragmenta, I, 16, fr. 15 (Cratinus).
 
 274 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 more equitable system became possible of permitting each 
 protagonist to appear in a single one of each tragedian's three 
 .plays (see p. 185, above). 
 
 One of the most prominent traits of the Greek, and especially 
 of the Athenian, character was litigiousness. Inasmuch as from 
 the time of Pericles citizens of Attica received a slight stipend 
 for serving upon juries, which ranged from 201 to 2,500 in 
 membership and sometimes reached an aggregate of 6,000, 
 there was scarcely an Athenian but was personally acquainted 
 with courtroom procedure and not a few practically supported 
 themselves in this way. Moreover, this situation was intensified 
 by the fact that the fifth century witnessed the rise of formal 
 oratory at Athens and its exploitation by numerous rhetorical 
 and sophistic teachers. It is hardly possible that all these 
 influences should have allowed contemporaneous drama to escape 
 unscathed. Their first effect is seen in the actual introduction 
 of a courtroom scene, as in Aeschylus' Eumenides, in which 
 Orestes is put on trial before the Council of the Areopagus for 
 having murdered his mother. Athena is the presiding judge, 
 Apollo the attorney for the defense, and the chorus of Furies 
 conducts the prosecution. Aristophanes satirized the Athenian 
 weakness in his Wasps, the chorus of which appeared in the guise 
 of those quarrelsome insects; and that inveterate juryman, 
 Philocleon, was provided with a domestic court wherein one dog 
 was duly arraigned by another for having pilfered a round of 
 Sicilian cheese! Again, certain scenes in other plays, though 
 not ostensibly placed in the courtroom, are practically treated 
 as if they were. For example, in Euripides' Trojan Women, 
 Menelaus meets his truant wife for the first time since her elope- 
 ment. Will he pardon or slay her? Helen herself naturally 
 hopes to be forgiven and restored to her husband's favor; but 
 the Trojan women, who hold her responsible for their country's 
 downfall, wish condign punishment to be meted out to her. 
 Consequently the play degenerates into a quasi-trial in which 
 Menelaus presides as judge, Hecabe, ex-queen of Troy, represents 
 the prosecution, and Helen pleads her own cause. In the third
 
 INFLUENCE OF NATIONAL CUSTOMS AND IDEAS 275 
 
 place, when a court scene was out of the question a debate of 
 some kind was often dragged in. Of course "struggle " is of the 
 essence of drama and a formal "agon" was by derivation almost 
 indispensable in Old Comedy (see pp. 42-44), but I am now refer- 
 ring to something different. Perhaps the most glaring instance 
 is found in Euripides' Madness of Heracles (vss. 158 If.). Lycus 
 has resolved upon Amphitryon's speedy death, yet they both 
 stop to argue whether it be better to fight with the spear or the 
 bow! Finally, since in the law courts the addresses of the 
 contending parties were equaUzed by means of the "water- 
 clock" (the clepsydra), it is not surprising that the speeches of 
 sharply contrasted characters in tragedy are occasionally made 
 of exactly the same length. The best example occurs in Eu- 
 ripides' Hecahe, where Polymestor's speech of fifty-one lines is 
 exactly balanced by that of the Trojan queen (cf. vss. 1132-82 
 and 1 187-1237). In Aeschylus' Seven against Thebes there are 
 seven pairs of contrasted speeches, two of which are exactly equal 
 (cf. vss. 422-36 = 437-51, and 568-96 = 597-625, and two others 
 are nearly so; cf. vss. 375-965^397-416 and 631-52^^653-76). 
 If we had before us the ipsissima verba of the tragic writers it is 
 Hkely that these and some other minor inequalities would be 
 resolved. Thus in Euripides' Medea, Jason speaks fifty-four 
 lines in reply to the heroine's fifty-five (cf. vss. 465-519^^522-75); 
 but there is some reason for believing that vs. 468 is interpolated. 
 Again, in Sophocles' Antigone the speeches of Creon and Hacmon 
 would precisely correspond (cf. vss. 639-80 and 683-723), if we 
 suppose a verse to have dropped out after vs. 690. In conclusion 
 it ought to be stated that such balancing was quite congenial to 
 the fondness for symmetry which characterized the Greek genius 
 in every field of endeavor. 
 
 Perhaps the one idea which was most fixed in the popular 
 consciousness of ancient Greece was that of Nemesis, the goddess 
 who punished the overweening presumption arising from long- 
 continued prosperity and success. Herodotus' history excm- 
 phfies the notion both in its main theme, the crushing defeat 
 which brought Persia's long series of victories to a close, and in
 
 276 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 numerous digressions, such as the story of Polycrates and his 
 ring. Accordingly, when Phrynichus in his Phoeniciun Women 
 and afterward Aeschylus in his Persians undertook to celebrate 
 the Persian rout they were careful to avoid a display of the pride 
 which had ruined the invading host, by laying the scene in the 
 Orient and exhibiting the mourning of Persia, not the triumph of 
 Greece (see p. 1 24, above) . Again, in the seven pairs of contrasted 
 speeches just mentioned as occurring in Aeschylus' Seven against 
 Thebes, a messenger states in turn the name of the Argive cham- 
 pion who is to assail each of the seven gates of Thebes, describing 
 his actions, words, the device upon his shield, etc., and the king 
 in a similar manner matches each enemy with a warrior of his 
 own. It is not without significance that to a Greek mind "the 
 boasts and blazons of the champions convict them of presump- 
 tion, and doom them beforehand to failure. The answers of 
 Eteocles are always right, take advantage of the enemy's 
 insolence, and secure divine favour by studied moderation."^ 
 Still again, in the same playwright's Agamemnon appears an 
 incident which to the uninitiated modern reader seems forced 
 and unworthy of the prominence and space assigned to it. 
 Clytemnestra has been untrue to her lord during his long absence 
 at Troy and is now prepared by her paramour's help to murder 
 him. Agamemnon himself, thanks to the recent smiles of 
 fortune, is in the sort of position which would easily expose him 
 to the vengeance of Nemesis. In the play (vss. 905-57) Clytem- 
 nestra skilfully takes advantage of this situation in order to 
 array the powerful goddess upon her side. She urges Agamemnon 
 not to set his conquering foot upon the common earth but to 
 pass from his chariot into the palace over a purple tapestry. The 
 king shrinks from an act which would be more becoming to a god 
 than a mortal, but finally yields to his wife's insistence. The 
 result is that to a Greek audience he would seem to invite and 
 almost to deserve the doom which his unfaithful spouse quickly 
 bi'ings upon him. These instances from the many available 
 suffice to indicate Greek feeling on the subject. 
 
 ' Cf. Sheppard, op. cil., p. 58.
 
 INFLUENCE OF NATIONAL CUSTOMS AND IDEAS 277 
 
 The poets of New Comedy leaned heavily upon the "long 
 arm of coincidence." The young women who are the recipients 
 of the gilded youths' favors are frequently found in the outcome 
 to be free-born, the children of respectable parents, and accept- 
 able wives. In several instances the victim of violence at some 
 nocturnal festival has unwittingly become the spouse of her 
 ravisher. The situation is aggravated by the unity of time. 
 Men who have been absent from their homes for months or years 
 must some day return to their households, pregnant women must 
 at last be deHvered of their offspring, long-standing debts must 
 finally fall due, and the escapades of spoiled sons must at some 
 time be brought to light and receive the attention of "hard- 
 hearted" parents. Coming singly, such occurrences occasion 
 no surprise. But when several of that sort are crowded into a 
 period of twenty-four hours or less in play after play, to our 
 minds the coincidence becomes well-nigh intolerable. It seems 
 likely, however, that the ancients regarded such concatenations 
 of events with more kindly eyes, for the reason that Chance or 
 Fortune (Tvxv) was commonly accepted as exercising supreme 
 authority over the lives and fortunes of men. This conception 
 also helps to explain the curious immunity from punishment 
 which was usually enjoyed by the scheming slaves in comedy. 
 Of course to a race whose national characteristics were embodied 
 in the wily Odysseus, cleverness, however unscrupulous, always 
 seemed to elevate its practitioners above the rules of ordinary 
 morahty. But more. Just as " in the days of the Odyssey a man 
 merely required to be skilful at deceiving his fellows to become 
 a favorite of Athena's, so in the days of New Comedy this 
 quality gave him a claim to the favor of the queen of the world 
 — omnipotent Tyche."^ 
 
 It is not always realized how almost oriental was the seclusion 
 in which respectable women were kept at Athens during the 
 period of its greatness in drama. Respectable women of good 
 family were not permitted to leave their homes except for special 
 reasons, nor to converse with men other than near relatives or 
 
 ' Cf. Legrand, op. cit., pp. 312-15 and 455 f.
 
 278 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 slaves. When it is remembered that the physical arrangements 
 of the Greek theaters did not readily admit of interior scenes 
 (see pp. 237 £f., above) it will be understood how difficult it was 
 for an ancient playwright to bring women of the better class 
 upon his stage. This appHes particularly to comedy as being a 
 more accurate mirror of contemporaneous manners; in tragedy, 
 as will presently appear, it was counteracted by another factor. 
 At weddings, funerals, and religious festivals women, especially 
 married women, were allowed greater Hberty than at other times. 
 Thus, in Aristophanes' Women at the Thesmophoria the coming 
 of ihQfesta affords them an opportunity of carrying on the busi- 
 ness of the play. In the same writer's Women in Council they 
 act in secret and disguised as men until their coup d'etat has 
 succeeded and the government has been voted into their hands. 
 The situation in Aristophanes' Lysistrata is quite as abnormal, 
 being nothing more or less than a ''sex strike!" In more con- 
 ventional plays the speaking characters, apart from divinities, 
 are practically restricted to women of the demimonde, foreign 
 residents (metics), female slaves, those other virtuous but vulgar 
 creatures whom poverty has compelled to seek a Hvelihood in 
 various business pursuits of the humbler sort, and finally women 
 advanced in years, shrewish in disposition, and unattractive in 
 person. The first and last types are especially common in New 
 Comedy, while Plautus' Persian is said to be unique in its 
 presentation of a chaste and free-born maiden in an active role.'' 
 Even the girl who has excited the young man's affections and 
 whose counterpart in modern drama would be a conspicuous 
 figure is seldom seen and is not always heard. The most that 
 she seems normally capable of doing is to ejaculate a cry of agony 
 from behind the scenes at the moment of childbirth. This is 
 the more surprising since the fact of her Attic citizenship is 
 rarely established and sometimes is not even suspected until the 
 very close of the play. The poet's consciousness of what he 
 intends to make of her — a free-born citizen and a legal wife — 
 apparently constrains him to protect her from an unconvention- 
 
 ' Cf. Prescott in Classical Philology, XI (1916), 132.
 
 INFLUENCE OF NATIONAL CUSTOMS AND IDEAS 279 
 
 ality of conduct which, though suitable to her present condition, 
 would afterward be looked back upon with regret by herself, 
 her husband and newly recovered relatives, and even by the 
 spectators themselves. Truth to tell, the girls from whom an 
 Athenian was required to take his bride were scarcely fitted to 
 be his intellectual companions or to grace a dialogue in drama, 
 while the best of the courtesans could quahfy in either capacity. 
 According to American notions the marriage of convenience 
 arranged by the parents is hardly warranted to produce domestic 
 felicity. But the hero of Greek comedy often selected a mistress 
 for graces of mind and person and afterward, when her legitimate 
 birth was discovered, gladly made her his wife. At least such 
 matches ought to have resulted happily. Yet surprisingly little 
 is ever said of married bliss and affection arising from any sort 
 of union. While this social situation prevented the ancient 
 dramatist from introducing certain scenes which are the stock 
 in trade of the modern playwright, in one respect it was of service 
 to him. Since practically no attention was paid to the girl's 
 wishes in such matters and almost none to the youth's, the speed 
 with which engagements could be made and uimiade or con- 
 summated in wedlock aided materially in observing the unity 
 of time. The plots and concentrated action of many plays in 
 the New Comedy (cf. for example Terence's Andrian Girl) 
 would be quite impossible if women in such a case were not 
 passive and helpless instruments in the hands of others. Pro- 
 fessor Lounsbury {op. cit., pp. 120 ff.) has convincingly shown 
 what a stumbling-block the unity of time proved to the clas- 
 sical dramatists of Western Europe who tried to conform to the 
 unities but Hved in a society to which such rapidity in court- 
 ship was repugnant. 
 
 In Greek tragedy the representation of women is strikingly 
 different from that in comedy. Whereas in this respect the 
 latter reacted to the usage of contemporaneous society, tragedy 
 reverted to the practice of Homer. In the Iliad women like 
 Helen and Andromache, suitably attended, not only traverse the 
 Trojan streets but appear on the walls and among the men
 
 28o THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 without losing caste or being regarded as immodest; and though 
 Helen's elopement with his brother was the source of all Troy's 
 present woes, Hector addresses her with far more consideration 
 than he shows the wayward Paris. In the fourth book of the 
 Odyssey she assists Menelaus at their Spartan home in enter- 
 taining the strangers from Ithaca and Pylus, and freely partici- 
 pates in the conversation without embarrassment and as an equal. 
 How faithful a picture these poems present of the social situation 
 in Homer's own day is largely beside the question, since it is 
 evident that they portray the events of a bygone age, viz., the 
 close of that "Aegean " or " Minoan " civilization which has been 
 unearthed by Schliemann on the Greek mainland and more re- 
 cently by Evans and others in Crete. 
 
 It is certain that women must have lived on a footing of greater 
 equality with the men than in any other ancient civilization, and we see in 
 the frescoes of Knossos conclusive indications of an open and easy associa- 
 tion of men and women, corresponding to our idea of "Society," at the 
 Minoan Court vmparalleled till our own day.^ 
 
 The extant remains clearly demonstrate that Homer's delinea- 
 tion was at the least derived from a genuine tradition. In view 
 of the fact that with three or four exceptions (see pp. 123 f ., above) 
 the themes of tragedy were always selected from Homeric or 
 other mythological sources, it was natural that the Greek trage- 
 dians should take over from him a social systeiii which so 
 conveniently liberated them from the restrictions of contempo- 
 raneous customs. It is unnecessary to cite passages to prove that 
 they actually did this; the women of almost every tragedy move 
 about with a freedom and conduct themselves with an independ- 
 ence such as no respectable woman among the playwright's con- 
 temporaries could have asserted. 
 
 Nor is it pecuHar that so artificial a pose is not consistently 
 maintained. Occasionally, an unconscious sense of outraged 
 propriety causes the dramatist to put words into a woman's 
 mouth which stand in glaring contrast with the rest of the scene. 
 
 ' Cf. Hall, The Ancient History of the Near East^ (1913), P- 48.
 
 INFLUENCE OF NATIONAL CUSTOMS AND IDEAS 281 
 
 In Euripides' Andromache, Hermione's confidential slave brings 
 their dialogue to a close by saying to her mistress : 
 
 Nay, pass within; make not thyself a show 
 
 Before this house, lest thou shouldst get thee shame, 
 
 Before this palace seen of men, my child. 
 
 [Vss. 877 ff.; Way's translation] 
 
 In real Hfe these words would furnish an excellent motive for 
 withdrawing; how artificial they are in tragedy appears from the 
 fact that, though a strange-looking man is now seen approaching, 
 Hermione remains upon the scene! In the same author's 
 Electra (vss. 341 ff.) that heroine's peasant-husband finds her 
 conversing with her brother and Pylades (though she recognizes 
 neither) and exclaims : 
 
 How now ? What strangers these about my doors ? 
 
 .... Beseemeth not 
 That with young men a wife should stand in talk. 
 
 [Way's translation] 
 
 The man's lowly birth and usually deferential attitude toward 
 his wife make these words seem especially incongruous, and 
 Electra promptly apologizes for them. Sometimes these 
 anachronisms are intentional and fulfill a deUberate purpose. 
 In Euripides' Phoenician Maids (vss. 88 fi'.), Antigone and a ser- 
 vant are about to appear on the flat roof of the palace in order to 
 catch a glimpse of the invading army; but for technical reasons 
 (see pp. 177 f., above) it is necessary that Antigone's entrance 
 be shghtly delayed. Accordingly, the slave comes into view 
 first and is made to afford an excuse for her tardy appearance 
 which would have been legitimate for a fifth-century princess but 
 which to a Homeric woman or one at the period of the dramatic 
 time of the play would have seemed to spring from false modesty. 
 
 Fair flower of thy sire's house, Antigone, 
 
 Albeit thy mother suffered thee to leave 
 
 Thy maiden-bower at thine entreaty, and moimt 
 
 The palace-roof to view the Argive host. 
 
 Yet stay, that I may scan the highway first, 
 
 Lest on the path some citizen appear. 
 
 And scandal light — for me, the thrall, 'twere naught, — 
 
 On thee, the^princess. [Way's translation.]
 
 282 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 Again, when they are ready to withdraw, the approach of the 
 chorus reinforces the same motive (see p. 93, n. i, above): 
 
 Daughter, pass in ... . 
 
 Lo, to the royal halls a woman-throng 
 
 Comes, .... 
 
 And scandal-loving still is womankind, etc. 
 
 [Vss. 193 ff.; Way's translation] 
 
 As intimated at the beginning it would be possible to extend 
 this chapter indefinitely. One more point must suffice. The 
 beHef was widespread among the Greeks that if a man's body 
 failed of burial his shade was forced to wander for a season on 
 this side of the river Styx and was thus cut off from association 
 with the great majority of departed spirits; the obligation of 
 attending to the funeral rites rested upon the nearest kin of the 
 deceased. It was inevitable that a doctrine so intimately 
 connected with the Hf e of the people should frequently appear in 
 their literature. Thus the Iliad does not close with the deaths 
 of Patroclus and Hector, but two whole books are devoted to 
 an account of their funerals. Likewise in the Odyssey, however 
 unsympathetic has been his deHneation of the suitors' conduct, 
 nevertheless Homer does not pass by the final disposition of their 
 bodies in silence (cf . xxiv. 417). In tragedy, which often involves 
 the death of the hero, naturally this matter is frequently men- 
 tioned. In Sophocles' Antigone it provides the mainspring of 
 the action. Because Polynices fell in arms against his native 
 country, Creon forbade his burial, but before the call of a duty 
 so sacred Antigone deemed not her Kfe precious and performed 
 the formal rites for her brother's body in defiance of the king's 
 command. According to modern feeling, when the hero falls 
 upon his sword at vs. 865 of Sophocles' Ajax, the denouement 
 must have arrived and the ending be close at hand; as a matter 
 of fact, the play continues for over five hundred verses. To the 
 Greeks no less important than the fact of his death was the 
 treatment which was to be accorded his corpse, and the honors 
 which Ajax received in Attica as a "hero" in the technical, 
 rehgious sense of that term made this a matter of far more
 
 INFLUENCE OF NATIONAL CUSTOMS AND IDEAS 283 
 
 moment than would have been true even in the case of an ordi- 
 nary man. Aeschylus' Seven against Thebes concludes with a 
 dirge between Antigone and Ismene over the bodies of their two 
 brothers, and an altercation between a public herald and 
 Antigone in which she declares her intention of defying the 
 state edict by burying Polynices. The genuineness of these 
 scenes has been assailed on technical grounds but in my opinion 
 unwarrantably (see p. 175, above). They have been charged 
 also with carrying the play (and the trilogy) past the natural 
 stopping-point and to an inconclusive close. But despite any 
 considerations which can be urged in its support, this objection 
 ignores the Greek f eeHng concerning the paramount importance of 
 interment and cannot be allowed. Even modern audiences 
 have sometimes felt a certain sympathy with this point of view 
 "The typical Elizabethan tragedy does not deal with the mis- 
 takes of a night, but with the long — often life-long — struggles 
 of its hero. Such a play must have an appropriate ending. 
 After the audience has sympathized with a Hamlet or a Brutus 
 through many a scene, it is not satisfied with a sudden death 
 and a drop of a curtain with a thud. It asks to see the body 
 solemnly and reverently borne off the stage as if to its last 
 resting place. And this was the respect which the honored dead 
 received on the EHzabethan stage. "^ 
 
 ' Cf. Albright, The Shakesperian Stage (1909), pp. 148 f.
 
 I find them one and all to be merely 
 examples of a new artificiality — the arti- 
 ficiality of naturalism. — Gordon Craig. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF THEATRICAL MACHINERY 
 AND DRAMATIC CONVENTIONS^ 
 
 f^y We have alrea4y*at£dJJia-t tbe Greek theater had no facilities 
 for the direct representation of interior scenes (see pp. 237-42, 
 above) . Of the many subterfuges there mentioned as available 
 for or utiHzed by the ancient playwrights it is now in place to 
 elaborate upon one. I refer to the eccyclema, one of the strangest 
 and most conventional pieces of machinery that any theater 
 has ever seen. 
 
 If it were desired to disclose to the audience the corpse of 
 someone who has just been done to death behind the scenes, 
 perhaps with the murderers still gloating over their crime, or to 
 set any similar interior view before the faithful eyes of the spec- 
 tators, the simplest device was to fling open the appropriate door 
 of the scene-building and thus to display the desired objects or 
 persons close behind the opening. Whatever may be said for 
 such a method under other conditions, in the Greek theater it 
 ran afoul of certain practical considerations. For example, the 
 wings of the auditorium extended around so far (Fig. 22) that 
 spectators seated there could have obtained no satisfactory view 
 through the opened doors of the scene-building. Nevertheless, 
 
 ' In addition to the works mentioned on pp. xvii and xx f ., above, cf . Thirlwall, 
 "On the Irony of Sophocles," Philological Museum, II (1833), 4835.; Neckel, 
 Das Ekkyklema (1890); Trautwein, De Prologorum Plautinorum Indole atque 
 Natura (1890); Dorpfeld-Reisch, Das griechische Theater (1896), pp. 234 flf.; Bethe, 
 Prolegomena zur Geschichle des Theaters im Alterthum (1896), pp. 100 ff.; Exon, 
 "A New Theory of the Eccyclema," Hermathena, XI (1901), 132 ff.; Leo, Der 
 Monolog im Drama, ein Beitrag zur griechisch-romischen Poetik (1908); Polczyk, 
 De Unitatibus et Loci et Temporis in Nova Comoedia Observatis (1909); Flickinger, 
 "Dramatic Irony in Terence," Classical Weekly, III (1910), 202 ff.; Arnold, The 
 Soliloquies of Shakespeare (1911); Fensterbusch, Die BUhne des Aristophanes 
 (191 2), pp. 51 ff.; Harms, De Introitu Personarum in Euripidis et Novae Comoediae 
 Fabulis (1914); and Rees, "The Function of the np6dvpov in the Production of 
 Greek Plays," Classical Philology, X (1915), 134 ff. 
 
 284
 
 THEATRICAL MACHINERY AND CONVENTIONS 285 
 
 during the last quarter-century not a few scholars have main- 
 tained that this was the sole means which the Greek plJlywrights 
 employed for such a purpose. ^But the ancient commentators 
 often speak of a contrivance whicn was used to bring a supposedly 
 interior scene out of the opened doors and more fully into the 
 view of the audience. This device is sometimes described as 
 "turning" or "revolving" {(tt picfyetvY and sometimes as being 
 "rolled out" (e/c, "out"+KUKXetJ/, to "wheel"). And though 
 eccyclema (eKKVKkrjiJLa) was used as the generic term I am per- 
 suaded that there were in fact two types of machine correspond- 
 ing to different conditions in the Athenian theater. 
 ^ When the first scene-building was erected, about 465 B.C., it 
 must have been simple and unpretentious, having parascenia 
 but no proscenium. Probably it consisted also of but a single 
 story, though ift Fig. 74^ I have given it a low clerestory with 
 small jvindqws for the admission of Ught into the scene-building. 
 The roof would thus have been better suited for the occasional 
 appearance of actors upon the housetop, as in Aeschylus' Aga- 
 memnon (458 B.C.). In addition to the usual doors in the 
 parascenia and scene-building (A, C, and E in Fig. 74), I believe 
 that a butterfly valve, to the base of which a semicircular plat- 
 form was attached, was used to close one or more other openings. 
 In Fig. 74 one of these is shown closed and not in use at B and 
 another open and in action at D. The size of the semicircular 
 platform would be limited only by the depth of the scene- 
 building and the space between the front doors, and there would 
 be ample room for several persons upon the eccyclema at a time. 
 Therefore when a deed of violence had been committed indoors 
 it was possible, by revolving one of the valves after a tableau 
 had been posed upon its platform, to place a quasi-interior scene 
 
 • Cf. scholia to Aeschylus' Eumenides, vs. 64, Aristophanes' Acharnians, vs. 408 
 and Clouds, vs. 184, and Clemens Alexandrinus, p. 11 (Potter). 
 
 ^ Fig. 74 is specially drawn, but owes several features to Figs. 93 f. in Dorpfeld- 
 Reisch, Das gricchische Theater. Since Exon's discussion and drawing of the 
 eccyclema presuppose a theater with a stage, it has been necessary to modify his 
 conception so as to bring it into conformity with the Dorpfeld theory. See p. 348.
 
 286 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 before thf spectators. This is Mr. Exon's theory of the eccy- 
 clema, and it admirably fits the conditions in the Athenian 
 theater at an early date. 
 
 Thus, Aeschylus' Eumenides, which belongs to this period 
 (458 B.C.), opens with a monologue of the Pythian priestess 
 (seep. 305, below). At vs. S3 she enters the temple, but imme- 
 diately returns, so shaken by the sight within that she cannot 
 
 Fig. 74. — The Athenian Theater of About 460 b.c. Showing the Earlier Type 
 of Eccyclema. 
 
 See pp. 28s, n. 2, and 348. 
 
 walk, but crawls. She has seen a blood-stained man (Orestes) 
 at the omphalus and before him a sleeping band of hideous Furies 
 (vss. 34-63). At vs. 64 we must suppose that the eccyclema 
 revolves with Apollo, Hermes, and Orestes mounted upon it. 
 The first named bids the matricide to leave Delphi and speed to 
 Athens and Hermes to guard him on his journey. Whereupon 
 the two step from the platform and flee through one of the parodi, 
 and the eccyclema, with Apollo still upon it, is revolved back 
 into its original position (vs. 93). Here we may note a curious
 
 THEATRICAL MACHINERY AND CONVENTIONS 287 
 
 incongruity; the platform of the eccyclema is actually out of 
 doors; nominally it is indoors. If the latter fact were kept 
 steadfastly in mind, a character could not step directly from the 
 eccyclema into the orchestra (as Orestes docs here) but could 
 only pass out through one of the doors after the eccyclema had 
 been closed again. It is of a piece with this that the characters 
 are not only spoken of as being indoors but sometimes as being 
 out of doors. At vs. 94 the ghost of Clytemnestra appears in 
 the orchestra (or perhaps is merely heard from within the scene- 
 building) calhng upon the Furies to waken and pursue their 
 escaping prey. Beginning at vs. 117 their cries and ejaculations 
 are heard at intervals, and at vs. 143 they burst into the orchestra 
 for their entrance song (the parodus) . At its conclusion (vs. 178) 
 Apollo comes out and drives them from his precinct. 
 
 Sometimes the opening and shutting of the back scene is 
 distinctly referred to. Thus in Sophocles' Ajax,^ vs. 344, the 
 coryphaeus cries to the attendants : ''Open there; perhaps even 
 by looking upon me he may acquire a more sober mood"; and 
 as Tecmessa replies *'Lo! I open," the door of the hero's tent 
 is opened and Ajax is seen amid the slaughtered cattle, the 
 victims of his misdirected vengeance. After playing a promi- 
 nent lyrical and speaking part in the scene which follows, Ajax 
 orders the door to be closed with all speed and disappears from 
 view (vs. 593). 
 
 But the eccyclema was also described as a low, trundle plat- 
 form,^ large enough to accommodate several persons and narrow 
 enough to be pushed through the doors of the scene-building, and 
 this type would be more suitable for the conditions which ob- 
 tained in the Athenian theater from about 430 B.C. (see pp. 235 
 and 292).^ [^ this period the scene-building was slightly moved 
 and raised to a second story; it was embellished with a wooden 
 proscenium; a crane came into use, etc. Under these conditions 
 the earlier type of eccyclema could no longer be so large nor so 
 
 ' See p. 244, n. i, above. 
 
 ' Cf. scholia to Aristophanes' Acharnians, vs. 408 and Women at the Thes- 
 mophoria, vs. 284; Pollux iv. 128, and Eustathius, p. 976, 15. J See pp. 339 fif.
 
 288 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 easily seen, being hampered in both particulars by the pro- 
 scenium. On the other hand the new type could be made as 
 long as the scene-building was deep and could be pushed forward 
 as far as might be necessary/ Thus in Aristophanes' A charnians 
 (425 B.C.), Dicaeopolis appears before the house of Euripides, 
 who is lounging within doors. In response to the former's 
 knock and summons '' to be wheeled out " Euripides says "I will 
 be wheeled out," and is pushed upon the stage {eKKVKkrjdrjn 
 .... €KKVK\r]<ToixaL, vs. 408). The conversation which ensues 
 between Dicaeopolis outdoors and Euripides supposedly indoors 
 does not conclude until vs. 479, when the latter exclaims: ''The 
 fellow is insolent; shut the doors." Perhaps in this instance, 
 for parodic effect, a trundle couch itself is shoved through the 
 door instead of a stationary couch upon a trundle platform.^ 
 Very similar is the scene in Aristophanes' Women at the Thesmo- 
 phoria (about 411 B.C.), where Agathon is wheeled out before 
 Euripides and Mnesilochus. Here again the verbs eKKVKkoviJievos 
 in vs. 96 and ela-KVKXrjadTOj at the conclusion of the scene in 
 vs. 265 do not permit me to doubt that the eccyclema, or a comic 
 substitute, was employed. It is probably no accident that 
 Euripides figures in both of these scenes. He is "hoist with his 
 own petar" as having invented, or been a frequent user of, this 
 mechanism. 
 
 The passage of tragedy in which most authorities concede 
 the employment of the eccyclema is Euripides' The Madness 
 
 y of Heracles (vss. 1029-1402). Chronologically this play falls 
 somewhere between the Acharnians and the Women at the 
 Thesmophoria. In his madness Heracles has slain his wife and 
 three children within the palace and at last has fallen into a dazed 
 
 y torpor; whereupon his friends have bound him to a broken 
 
 ^The exostra (i^, "out"-\-d)6eTv, to "push") seems to have performed about 
 the same function as the eccyclema; cf. Pollux iv. 1 29; perhaps it was only the more 
 specific name for this later type. 
 
 * On the basis of dvapddrjv in vs. 399, for which the scholiasts preserve two 
 interpretations, some writers would have us believe that Euripides was shown in 
 the second story. Tracks for the wheels of an eccyclema have been reported on 
 the logium level of the theater at Eretria (see p. 107, above).
 
 THEATRICAL MACHINERY AND CONVENTIONS 289 
 
 column. As the chorus chant *'Alas! Behold the doors of the 
 stately palace fall asunder" (vss. 1029 f.), the hero bound to y 
 a pillar amid the slain is pushed forward on the eccyclema. 
 At vs. 1089 he recovers consciousness and begins to speak; at 
 vs. 1 1 23 Amphitryon loosens him; and at vs. 1163 Theseus 
 enters and finally (vs. 1402) persuades him to descend into the 
 orchestra. 
 
 Still another theatrical contrivance was called the /jtrjxavri ^ 
 ("machine"), which about 430 B.C. came to be used to bring 
 divinities before the ancient audiences. This was a crane and 
 pulley arrangement, mounted in one of the side wings (para- 
 scenia), whereby persons or objects could be brought from 
 behind the second story (the episcenium) and held suspended 
 in the air or let down upon the roof of the scene-building or into 
 the orchestra, or could be lifted in an opposite direction. This 
 development is of interest also from the structural standpoint as 
 indicating that whatever the situation may have been earlier, 
 at least from this time on the scene-building was provided with 
 an episcenium (see pp. 67 f., above). 
 
 Before considering the use of the machina further, it will be 
 worth while to trace briefly how gods played their parts in the 
 Greek theater. Prior to the erection of a scene-building, about 
 465 B.C., the scene was perforce laid in the open countryside (see 
 p. 226, above) and the playwrights had no option but to place 
 divinities and mortals in immediate juxtaposition, after the / 
 Homeric fashion, in the orchestra. For the same reason, however 
 these characters might be thought of as travehng before they 
 entered the theater, they rested under the prosaic necessity, as 
 soon as they were seen by the spectators, of moving upon the 
 solid earth. Thus in Aeschylus' Prometheus Bound, Oceanus 
 enters at vs. 284 with the words : 
 
 From my distant caves cerulean 
 This fleet-pinioned bird hath borne me; 
 Needed neither bit nor bridle, 
 Thought instinctive reined the creature. 
 
 [Blackie's translation]
 
 290 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 As a preliminary to his departure at vs. 397, he says: 
 
 I go, and quickly. My four-footed bird 
 Brushes the broad path of the limpid air 
 With forward wing: right gladly will he bend 
 The wearied knee on his familiar stall. 
 
 [Blackie's translation] 
 
 It will be noted that there is nothing here which requires or 
 implies flight through the air within sight of the audience. 
 Evidently Oceanus rides upon a fantastic creature which is rolled 
 along by hidden power or which walks on disguised human legs. 
 A similar interpretation must be set upon the lines which refer 
 to the chorus' mode of entrance in the same play. At vs. 124 
 Prometheus cries out: 
 
 Hark again! I hear the whirring 
 As of winged birds approaching; 
 With the light strokes of their pinions 
 Ether pipes ill-boding whispers! — 
 Alas! Alas! that I should fear 
 Each breath that nears me. 
 
 To which the Oceanides, as they come into view, reply: 
 
 Fear nothing; for a friendly band approaches; 
 
 Fleet rivalry of wings 
 
 Oared us to this far height. [Blackie's translation] 
 
 They remain upon their winged car until the Titan invites them, 
 at vs. 272, to step upon the earth. They accept in the following 
 language : 
 
 Not to sluggish ears, Prometheus, 
 
 Hast thou spoken thy desire ; 
 
 From our breeze-borne seat descending, 
 
 With light foot we greet the ground. 
 
 Leaving ether chaste, smooth pathway 
 
 Of the gently winnowing wing. 
 
 On this craggy rock I stand. [Blackie's translation]
 
 THEATRICAL MACfflNERY AND CONVENTIONS 291 
 
 Here again there is no need of supposing that the choral car does 
 not rest solidly upon the ground. Its aerial motion is entirely off- 
 scene. 
 
 Even at a later period, when more sophisticated devices were 
 available, the gods still continued on occasion to use strictly 
 terrestrial means of locomotion and to stand in the orchestra 
 on a level with purely human characters. For example, in 
 Sophocles' Ajax, Athena appears before the tent of that hero and 
 converses first with Odysseus and then with Ajax. In Euripides' 
 posthumous Bacchanals, Dionysus is seen in propria persona 
 before the house of Pentheus and afterward (in disguise) enters 
 and departs from its portals. Still again, in the pseudo- 
 Euripidean Rhesus, which is usually regarded as a fourth-century 
 production, Athena comes before Hector's tent to advise and 
 encourage Odysseus and then to deceive Paris (cf. especially 
 vss. 627 f.). On the contrary, the words of the chorus in vss. 
 885 f . of this play show that the Muse appears above their heads. 
 Thus it is an error to think that the more primitive methods 
 of presenting divinities were entirely superseded by later ones ; 
 the different methods existed side by side and might even be used 
 in the same play. ., " '' .'- " ' 
 
 After the erection of a scene-building, about 465 B.C., it became 
 possible to employ the roof as a higher stage for certain scenes. 
 At the beginning of Aeschylus' Agamemnon the guard is found 
 posted upon the palace roof, on watch for the last in the series 
 of beacon lights from Troy. In Euripides' Phoenician Maids, 
 Antigone and an old servant appear on top of the royal palace 
 in order to view the hostile army (cf. vss. 88 ff.). In these and 
 other instances the roof of the scene-building (or at a later 
 period the top of the proscenium) was pressed into service. 
 Moreover, although this spot was of course not the exclusive 
 place of speaking, yet, since it was never used for dancing but 
 only for speaking, it came to be called the logium (Xoyelov) or 
 ''speaking-place" par excellence (see p. 59, above). This ar- 
 rangement was especially useful when a scene was to be thought
 
 292 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 of as taking place in heaven. So in Aeschylus' lost play entitled 
 The Weighing of Souls, Zeus was represented as placing the fates 
 of Achilles and Memnon into the scales, while Thetis and Eos 
 prayed for their sons. The same meaning is assigned the logium 
 also in Aristophanes' Peace, in which Trygaeus on the back of 
 his beetle mounts from earth to heaven, i.e., from the orchestra 
 to the top of the proscenium. The dramatists were not slow 
 to perceive that no other part of the theater was so well adapted 
 for the awe-compelUng theophanies with which the Greeks were 
 so fond of terminating their tragedies. There is no doubt that 
 this method of introducing divinities was employed in several 
 of our extant plays, but the absence of stage directions makes it 
 difl&cult to differentiate the instances sharply. 
 
 Finally about 430 B.C. the machine (ixrjxo-i^'n) came into use. 
 Possibly this is employed in Euripides' Medea (431 B.C.) in order 
 to carry away that heroine and the bodies of her children in the 
 chariot of the sun-god, but the situation is doubtful. It is almost 
 certainly a mistake, however, to attribute the machine, as some 
 do, to the time of Aeschylus. Whether Euripides was its 
 inventor or not, he was extraordinarily fond of using it. Indeed 
 it has been remarked that "in almost every play of Euripides 
 something flies through the air." At any rate the earliest sure 
 instance of the machine occurs in Euripides' lost BellerophoUj 
 which was brought out some time before 425 b.c. Byits means the 
 hero in this play was enabled to mount from earth to heaven, i.e., 
 from the orchestra to the top of the proscenium, upon the winged 
 steed, Pegasus. This scene is parodied in Aristophanes' Peace 
 (421 B.C.), in which Trygaeus makes a similar flight on the back 
 of a beetle. Somewhat later the same device enabled Perseus 
 in Euripides' lost Andromeda to fly to the rocks upon which that 
 heroine had been bound. In Aristophanes' Clouds (423 B.C.) 
 it was employed to suspend Socrates in a basket, whence he could 
 look down upon the troubles of mortals and survey the heavenly 
 bodies. Especially important is the situation in Euripides' 
 Orestes (408 B.C.). Orestes and Py lades have fled to the palace 
 roof, dragging Hermione with them. Menelaus is outside the
 
 THEATRICAL MACHINERY AND CONVENTIONS 293 
 
 bolted door below. Suddenly Apollo appears (vs. 1625) with 
 Helen at his side. The divinity begins to speak as follows: 
 
 Menelaus, peace to thine infuriate mood : 
 
 I, Phoebus, Leto's son, here call on thee. 
 
 Peace thou, Orestes, too, whose sword doth guard 
 
 Yon maid, that thou mayst hear the words I bear. 
 
 Helen, whose death thou hast essayed, to sting 
 
 The heart of Menelaus, yet hast missed, 
 
 Is here, — whom wrapped infolds of air ye see (cv aWepo<: 7rTv;(ars), — 
 
 From death delivered, and not slain of thee, etc. 
 
 [Way's translation] 
 
 The itaHcized words show that Apollo and Helen stand above ] 
 all the other actors in the drama, who are themselves standing I ^ 
 on two different levels; and it is evident that the machine was' 
 utiHzed for this purpose. 
 
 The last example is typical of a large class of instances in 
 which a divinity appears as a splendid climax to the events of 
 the play. It is plain that in all or practically all of these the god 
 is raised above the other performers, as would be only appropri- 
 ate for an effective close; but whether the deity merely came 
 forward upon the logium or was brought into view by means of a 
 machine is not always an easy matter to determine. By a 
 natural extension of meaning, however, such an apparition at 
 the close of a play came to be called a ''god from the machine" / 
 {Beds airo fxrjxdvrjs ; deus ex machina) regardless of the method used 
 for his appearance. By a further extension of meaning firixavr} 
 was used to designate any mechanical artifice, such as the "long t^ 
 arm of coincidence," for example. Thus Aristotle criticized the 
 ixrixo-vv in Euripides' Medea, but from another passage it becomes 
 clear that he was referring, not to the use of an actual machine 
 at the denouement, but only to the improbability involved in the 
 appearance of King Aegeus in the course of the play.^ 
 
 There are several ancient notices which refer to the use that 
 inexpert playwrights made of the deus ex machina in order to 
 extricate their characters when the plot had become compHcated 
 
 ' Cf. Poetics I4S4&I and 1461&21.
 
 294 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 beyond the possibility of disentanglement by purely natural 
 means. It would seem that in the hands of second-rate poets 
 the deus was frequently so employed. In particular it has often 
 been charged that Euripides was guilty of this practice, but in my 
 opinion without due warrant. It is true that he concluded fully 
 half of his eighteen extant plays in this manner, besides several 
 other instances in the plays now lost; but with only one exception 
 his principal motive was never to relieve himself of the embarrass- 
 ment into which the confusion of his plot had involved him. 
 The truth of this statement appears most clearly in the Iphigenia 
 among the Taurians (see pp. 201 f., above). At vs. 1392 all the 
 immediate requirements of the drama have been met: Orestes, 
 Iphigenia, and Pylades have made good their escape, bearing 
 the image of Artemis. The poet could have stopped here without 
 requiring the aid of a divinity. Instead he preferred to plunge 
 himself into such a plight as only a deity could rescue him from, 
 for in the succeeding verses a messenger reports that contrary 
 wind and wave are driving the refugees back to land. King 
 Thoas just has time to issue quick commands when Athena 
 appears (vs. 1435) and bids him cease his efforts. Surely the 
 playwright's difficulties here are self-imposed and must be 
 regarded as having furnished the excuse rather than the reason 
 for the use of the deus ex machina. What other objects might 
 he have had in mind? It has already been suggested (p. 202, 
 above) that this device enabled him to bring the melodramatic "^ 
 course of the action to a more dignified and truly tragic close. 
 Also he thus found it possible to rescue the chorus, who had been 
 promised a safe return to Greece but had been left behind. But 
 the fact that the chorus in the same poet's Helen is irremediably 
 left in the lurch after the same fashion (see pp. 160 f., above) im- 
 plies that this was a lesser consideration. Again, toward the close 
 of Enripides' Suppliants, Adrastus has vowed the eternal gratitude 
 of Argos to Athens for having secured the return of her slain. 
 But the appearance of Athena at vs. 1183 makes her a witness 
 to this, and her demand that Adrastus' promise be ratified by 
 an oath converts it into a sacred obligation.
 
 THEATRICAL MACHINERY AND CONVENTIONS 295 
 
 But after all these are only occasional motives, while a more 
 important result is obtained again and again. In the Iphigenia, 
 Euripides took advantage of Athena's presence to have her 
 foretell the heroine's later career and final decease in Attica. It 
 is urmecessary to point out that the presence of a divinity was 
 highly serviceable and appropriate for such a purpose. We have 
 already seen (p. 259, above) that exactly the same situation 
 obtains in the A?tdromache. In this way the poet was enabled to 
 burst through the restricting influences which caused the normal 
 observance of the unities of time and place and to include other 
 days and other places within the purview of his play. Fre- 
 quently there is included in this an aetiological explanation of 
 rites which were observed in the dramatist's own day. Thus in 
 Euripides' Hippolytus (vss. 1423 £f.), Artemis promises that the 
 maidens of Troezen will perform certain ceremonies in honor 
 of the hero's sufferings, and in the Iphigenia among the Taurians 
 (vss. 14465.), Athena enjoins upon Orestes to establish the 
 temple and worship of Artemis Tauropolos at Brauron in Attica. 
 
 It would take too long to examine here every instance of the 
 deus ex machina in Euripides. For that I must refer the reader 
 to Professor Decharme's interesting discussion.^ Suffice it to 
 state that in every case the element of prediction is brought into 
 play. This appears even in the Orestes, the only piece in which 
 the theophany is frankly and undisguisedly employed to provide 
 Euripides with a denouement. Orestes and Electra stand 
 condemned to death for having murdered their mother. Being 
 disappointed in the hope of receiving succor from their uncle, 
 Menelaus, they determine to punish him for his recreancy by 
 slaying Helen and to hold his daughter Hermione as a hostage in 
 order to force him to secure the recall of the decree against them. 
 Helen has now supposedly been slain, Menelaus stands angry and 
 bafl3ed before the bolted doors, Orestes with his sword at 
 Hermione's throat taunts him from the palace roof. If any 
 regard is to be paid to verisimilitude or human psychology, no 
 
 ' Cf. Euripides and the Spirit of His Dramas, pp. 263 ff., Loeb's translation 
 (1906).
 
 296 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 reconciliation between these conflicting elements is possible; 
 but at this moment Apollo appears, and his fiat (see p. 293) 
 resolves every feud. The god goes beyond this, however, and in 
 typical fashion predicts (or ordains) the later career of each 
 character. 
 
 It is but fair to Euripides to state that even Sophocles, that 
 master of dramatic writing, found the deus ex machina as 
 indispensable in his Philoctetes as did the former in his Orestes. 
 Philoctetes had come into possession of the bow of Heracles, and 
 having been abandoned on the island of Lemnos by the leaders 
 of the Greek expedition against Troy he cherished an implacable 
 hatred against his former associates. But now the Greeks have 
 received an oracle to the effect that the person and weapons of 
 Philoctetes are necessary for the capture of Ilium. In Sophocles' 
 play the task of meeting these conditions has been laid upon the 
 wily Odysseus and the noble Neoptolemus. By a trick they 
 succeed in gaining possession of the bow and by another trick 
 are in a fair way of enticing the inexorable hero on board a ship 
 bound for Troy, when the generous son of Achilles refuses to 
 proceed further with so infamous a scheme and finally returns 
 his weapons to Philoctetes. This development was inevitable if 
 the character of Neoptolemus is to be maintained consistently; 
 but it leaves the characters in a hopeless deadlock. At this 
 juncture (vs. 1408) the deified Heracles appears to reveal the 
 purposes of Zeus, and Philoctetes abandons his resentment. 
 Here again the element of prophecy is associated with the deus 
 ex machina, Heracles foretelling the healing of Philoctetes' 
 wound and his future career of glory at Troy and elsewhere. 
 
 Much nonsense has been indulged in by modern authorities 
 in ridiculing this contrivance of the Greek theater. This has 
 sprung partly from a misapprehension of the real situation and 
 partly from a failure to realize that devices fully as forced and 
 artificial have been employed by the supreme masters of dramatic 
 art in modern times. Of course I do not mean that an actual 
 fjirixavr] has often been brought to view in modern theaters or that 
 divinities have frequently trod the stage. Nevertheless a close
 
 THEATRICAL MACHINERY AND CONVENTIONS 297 
 
 equivalent of the deus ex machina, in the broader sense, has not 
 rarely been resorted to. For example, at the close of Shake- 
 speare's Cymheline the king declares, as the result of an oracle: 
 
 Although the victor, we submit to Caesar 
 And to the Roman empire, promising 
 To pay our wonted tribute. 
 
 Again, in As You Like It everything has been satisfactorily 
 settled except one point: the spectators would hardly rest 
 content to think of the characters as spending the remainder of 
 their lives in the Forest of Arden. This detail is adjusted by 
 means of a messenger, who reports that the usurping duke had 
 addressed a mighty power with which to capture his brother 
 and put him to the sword : 
 
 And to the skirts of this wild wood he came; 
 Where meeting with an old religious man, 
 After some question with him, was converted 
 Both from his enterprise and from the world; 
 His crown bequeathing to his banish 'd brother, 
 And all their lands restored to them again 
 That were with him exiled. 
 
 Finally, not to extend this list unduly, in Moliere's Tartufe by 
 the time that Orgon has at length unmasked the hypocrite he 
 had played into his hand to such an extent, by deeding him his 
 property and by intrusting him with incriminating papers, that 
 it is impossible to conceive how he can be extricated. But at 
 this crisis an officer of police in the name of the French king 
 (almost a divine figure in those days) rescues him from his 
 troubles : 
 
 Monsieur, dismiss all anxious fears. We live beneath a prince the foe 
 of fraud, — a prince whose eyes can penetrate all hearts; whose mind the art 
 
 of no impostor can deceive This one was powerless to mislead him ; 
 
 those wily schemes he instantly detected, discerning with his keen sagacity 
 the inmost folds of that most treacherous heart. Coming to denounce you, 
 the wretch betrayed himself; and by the stroke of some high justice the 
 prince discovered him, by his own words, to be a great impostor, .... 
 In a word, the monarch .... ordered me to follow him here and see to 
 what lengths his impudence would go, and then to do justice on him for your
 
 298 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 sake. Yes, I am ordered to take from his person the papers which he boasts 
 of holding, and place them in your hands. The king, of his sovereign power, 
 annuls the deed you made him of your property; and he forgives you for 
 the secret to which your friendship for an exile led you. [Wormeley's 
 translation.] 
 
 Who, with such examples of artificial and mechanical denoue- 
 ments before him, will cast the first stone at the deus ex machina 
 of the Greeks ?^ 
 
 In a technical sense "prologue" came to denote the histrionic 
 passage before the entrance song of the chorus (the parodus) 
 (see p. 192, above). Such prologues are not found in Aeschylus' 
 Suppliants and Persians, which begin with the choral parodus. 
 The earliest prologue of which we have knowledge occurred in 
 Phrynichus' lost play, the Phoenician Women (476 B.C.), in which 
 a eunuch opens the action by spreading places in the orchestra 
 for the counselors of the Persian empire and at the same time 
 announcing the defeat of Xerxes in Greece. On the other hand, 
 according to a late authority, prologues were the invention of 
 Thespis.^ In my opinion this contradiction is to be explained 
 as a confusion between the technical and non-technical uses of 
 the term. There is every reason for believing that prologues in 
 the technical sense just mentioned did not go back to the time 
 of Thespis. But the fully developed prologue was naturally 
 employed as a vehicle for the exposition, and the task of acquaint- 
 ing his audience with data preliminary to the action and necessary 
 for comprehending the plot of course confronted Thespis no less 
 than later playwrights. Now it is evident that he could accom- 
 plish this in any one of three ways : (i) He could utilize the choral 
 parodus for this purpose, as Aeschylus partially did in his 
 Agamemnon. Though this play has a prologue, the parodus is 
 
 ' According to late authorities Greek theaters were provided with revolving 
 prisms {periacli) with a different view painted on each of their three sides. These 
 could be turned to indicate a change of scene. There is no evidence, however, that 
 this contrivance was employed during the classical period of Greek drama, although 
 Dorpfeld thought that a place was provided for it in the earlier parascenia at 
 Epidaurus (cf. Das griechische Theater, p. 126). The geranos ("crane") and the 
 krade ("branch") were probably only other names for the /Jirjxo-v^. 
 
 " Cf. Themistius Oration xxvi, 316 D.
 
 THEATRICAL MACHINERY AND CONVENTIONS 299 
 
 employed to rehearse the story of Iphigenia's sacrifice and other 
 pertinent events. Somewhat similar is the parodus of Aeschylus' 
 Persians, which in the absence of a regular prologue opens the 
 play. Accordingly, the ancient argument to this play remarks : 
 "A chorus of elders 'speaks the prologue'" (w poKoyi^eL) , using 
 the word in a popular sense. (2) The drama might begin with 
 a dialogue or duet between the chorus and an actor, somewhat 
 in the manner of the pseudo-Euripidean Rhesus. It is perhaps 
 unlikely that this technique was employed as early as Thespis. 
 (3) The exposition might be intrusted to the character who 
 speaks first after the choral parodus. Since the drama was then 
 in the one-actor stage, such a "prologue" would necessarily be 
 monologic. Some justification for this nomenclature may be 
 found in the ancient argument to Sophocles' Oedipus at Colonus, 
 where it is stated that Oedipus 7rpoXo7ifet. Since Antigone and 
 a stranger take part in this prologue as well as Oedipus, the verb 
 must here mean that Oedipus "makes the first speech." Now 
 whatever may be true about Thespis having employed (i) or (2), 
 he certainly must have employed the third type of exposition, 
 and a "prologue" of this non-technical sort he can truthfully 
 be said to have invented. 
 
 It is a peculiarity of Euripides that he oftentimes combined 
 startling innovations with a reversion to archaic, or at least much 
 earher, technique. Therefore, it is not surprising that he 
 preferred prologues which smack somewhat of this primitive 
 tj^e. Of course this statement is not to be taken so Hterally 
 as to imply that he placed his prologues after the parodus. It 
 means that instead of retailing the essential antecedents of the 
 action piecemeal in the manner of Sophocles and Ibsen, he regu- 
 larly set the whole body of data before the spectators at once in 
 an opening soliloquy. This is normally succeeded by a dialogue 
 with which the dramatic action really begins. In other words 
 there is a prologue within a prologue: the histrionic passage 
 before the choral parodus (the prologue in the technical sense) 
 opens with a sharply differentiated monologue (a prologue in 
 the old, non-technical sense). In my opinion the latter must be
 
 300 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 regarded as consciously harking back to Thespian practice. An 
 excellent example of this technique is afforded by the Alcestis? 
 Here Apollo apostrophizes the palace of Admetus, thus revealing 
 the location of the scene (see p. 206). He then proceeds to 
 relate in detail how he had been forced to serve in the house of a 
 mortal, how considerately Admetus had treated him, how in 
 gratitude he had tricked the Fates into permitting Admetus to 
 present a voluntary substitute when premature death threatened 
 him, how Queen Alcestis is the only one found wilHng to die for 
 the king, that this is the day appointed for her vicarious act, etc. 
 It is noticeable that scant regard is here paid to dramatic illusion : 
 Apollo tells what the spectators need to know and because they 
 need to know it. He explains his leaving the palace on the 
 ground of the pollution which the death of Alcestis would bring 
 upon all indoors at the time (vs. 22). But no excuse is provided 
 for his long soliloquy. We have seen that the apostrophe to the 
 palace served another purpose; and in any case, since (unlike 
 the elements) houses were never regarded by the Greeks as either 
 divine or even animate, it would be no adequate motivation for 
 the monologue. The prologue concludes and the action proper 
 is set in motion by a quarrel between Apollo and Death, who is 
 now seen approaching. 
 
 This prologue is one of Euripides' best. They are often 
 interminable and marred by long genealogies and other jejune 
 matter. Some of them are not undeserving of the strictures 
 which critics, both ancient and modern, have heaped upon them. 
 Yet they served many useful purposes, too, and there is no war- 
 rant for utterly condemning the type as a whole. We have 
 already seen (p. 258, above) that such a device enabled a drama- 
 tist to circumvent the conditions which caused the conventional 
 observance of the unities of time and place and to bring earlier 
 events more explicitly within the scope of his play. The fact 
 that Euripides more often chose different themes for the plays 
 in each group instead of writing trilogies or tetralogies made 
 brevity of exposition a desideratum. Again, a desire for novelty 
 and the fact that Aeschylus and Sophocles had anticipated him
 
 THEATRICAL MACHINERY AND CONVENTIONS 301 
 
 in so many of his subjects caused him to depart widely from the 
 traditional accounts. Unless some warning of this were given, 
 it would sometimes be almost impossible for the ordinary spec- 
 tator to comprehend the action, and no other place was so 
 appropriate for such an explanation as the prologue. For 
 example, in the Helen, Euripides abandoned the account given 
 by Homer and most others in favor of the version invented by 
 Stesichorus. The audience had to comprehend not only that 
 Helen had been the chaste and loyal wife of Menelaus throughout 
 but also that there were two Helens — one the true Helen who 
 spent the years of the Trojan War in Egypt, and the other a 
 cloud-image Helen who eloped with Paris and was recovered by 
 Menelaus at the capture of the city. Surely a very clear state- 
 ment was required to render such a revamping of the legend clear 
 to everyone. Even the genealogical table was not without its 
 utihty in this prologue, for the Egyptian king Theoclymenus 
 and his sister would mean nothing to most spectators until their 
 lineage was traced to the familiar names of Proteus and Nereus. 
 
 Quite apart from these considerations, however, there is still 
 something to be said for the Euripidean type of prologue. 
 Knowing that the spectators had no playbill, whatever the 
 dramatist wished to tell them concerning the antecedents of the 
 dramatic action he had to tell them in the play itself. And 
 though the plots of most tragedies were based upon oft- told 
 myths, yet we have the authority of Aristotle' for the statement 
 that even the best-known tales were known to but a few. 
 Furthermore, the Greek practice of attacking the series of 
 dramatic incidents, not at the beginning or in the middle, but 
 only at the end, of excluding everything but the culmination or 
 fifth act (see pp. 265 f., above), prevented the earHer events from 
 actually being represented upon the stage. There was, therefore, 
 a considerable body of facts which the poet had either to relate 
 frankly and succinctly in a mass at the beginning or to attempt 
 to weave into the play and disclose gradually as they were 
 needed. Euripides preferred the former method, which he 
 
 * Cf. Poetics 1451J26.
 
 302 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 employed in all of his extant plays except possibly the Iphigenia 
 at Aulis. It was borrowed by Sophocles in his Maidens of 
 Trachis, was extensively imitated by Aristophanes despite his 
 caustic criticisms, and was exceedingly popular among the 
 writers of New Comedy. Even in modern times, notwithstand- 
 ing all that has been said against it both by ancients and moderns, 
 there have always been playwrights to whom this manner of 
 approach has made the stronger appeal. The principle involved 
 is well stated by a contemporaneous student of dramatic tech- 
 nique:^ ''It may not unreasonably be contended, I think, that, 
 when an exposition cannot be thoroughly dramatized — that is, 
 wrung out, in the stress of the action, from the characters pri- 
 marily concerned — it may best be dismissed, rapidly and even 
 conventionally, by any not too improbable device." 
 
 Frequently the opening soliloquy of the prologue was spoken 
 by a divinity, and in Euripides' Hecabe it is spoken by a ghost ! 
 Their prophetic powers enabled such personages to predict the 
 course of the action. Thus in Euripides' Hip poly tus (vss. 42 £f.), 
 Aphrodite declares that Phaedra's love for her stepson will be 
 made known to his father, whose curses will bring Hippolytus to 
 destruction, and that Phaedra herself will die, though with name 
 untarnished; and these things actually come to pass in the play. 
 Indeed, an outstanding difference between ancient and modern 
 tragedy, doubtless arising from the fact that the former dealt 
 with traditional material whose outlines were fairly well known 
 to at least some and could be modified only within certain limits, 
 consists in this, that the Greek tragedians usually made Uttle 
 or no attempt to keep their audiences in the dark as to the out- 
 come. It is true that there are occasional exceptions. For 
 example, in Euripides' Ion, Hermes explains in the prologue that 
 Apollo is Ion's father by a secret union, but expressly states that 
 the Delphian deity will bring the youth into his just deserts 
 without letting his own misdeed become known. Consequently 
 when Ion's very life seems to depend upon his parentage tran- 
 spiring, the hearts of the spectators are harried with fear for his 
 
 ' Cf. Archer, Play-making, p. 119.
 
 THEATRICAL MACHINERY AND CONVENTIONS 303 
 
 safety until Athena appears in her brother's stead as deus ex 
 machina and unexpectedly reveals his secret after all. Euripides' 
 Orestes provides another instance of an attempt to baffle the 
 spectators. The contrast of a few such cases, however, ser^■es 
 only to call attention to the more usual procedure. Here again 
 the Greek practice has not lacked defenders. Lessing wrote:* 
 " I am far removed from believing with the majority of those who 
 have written on the dramatic art that the denouement should 
 be hid from the spectator. I rather think it would not exceed 
 my powers to rouse the very strongest interest in the spectator 
 even if I resolved to make a work where the denouement was 
 revealed in the first scene. Everything must be clear for the 
 spectator, he is the confidant of each person, he knows everything 
 that occurs, everything that has occurred, and there are hundreds 
 of instances when we cannot do better than to tell him straight 
 out what is going to occur." A somewhat different point of view 
 is presented by Professor Murray f "But why does the prologue 
 let out the secret of what is coming? Why does it spoil the 
 excitement beforehand ? Because, we must answer, there is no 
 secret, and the poet does not aim at that sort of excitement. 
 A certain amount of plot-interest there certainly is : we are never 
 told exactly what will happen but only what sort of thing; or 
 we are told what will happen but not how it will happen. But 
 the enjoyment which the poet aims at is not the enjoyment of 
 reading a detective story for the first time ; it is that of reading 
 Hamlet or Paradise Lost for the second or fifth or tenth." 
 
 But the prologue was not always spoken by a divinity; 
 oftentimes a mortal appeared in this capacity. Sometimes this 
 mortal took no further part in the dramatic action, and sometimes 
 he did. In the latter case he occasionally displayed as prologist 
 a greater knowledge of the situation and of what was going to 
 happen than he afterward seemed to possess as an acting char- 
 acter. This difficulty occurs in Plautus' Braggart Captain. 
 At vss. 145 ff. (in the prologue) Palaestrio boasts how he will 
 
 ' Cf. Hamburgische Dramaturgle, Zimmern's translation, p. 377. 
 ^ Cf. Euripides atid His Age, p. 206.
 
 304 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 cause his fellow-slave "not to see what he has seen" and even 
 explains the trick which will be used for this purpose. But in the 
 scene following the prologue, when he must make good his 
 braggadocio, he seems as perplexed and confounded as would 
 one who had not foreseen this emergency. 
 
 In later times the soHloquy of the prologist was sometimes 
 deferred until after an introductory scene or two. Such "inter- 
 nal" prologues occur in the Casket and the Braggart Captain of 
 Plautus. The meager beginnings of this system can be traced 
 in Aristophanes and Euripides, but there is no evidence for its 
 full development prior to the time of Alexis, a poet of Middle 
 Comedy. His nephew, Menander, who belonged to the New 
 Comedy, employed it in his Hero and Girl with Shorn Locks. In 
 Plautus' Amphitruo, Mercury speaks an opening prologue (vss. 
 1-152), then engages in a dialogue with Sosia (vss. 153-462), 
 after which he continues the prologue for some thirty additional 
 verses ! 
 
 The six comedies of Terence all begin with "dissociated" 
 prologues. These give the name and Greek authorship of the 
 Latin play and bespeak the friendly consideration of the audience. 
 They devote no attention, however, to the dramatic situation 
 in the comedy or to future comphcations therein, but are 
 employed for polemical purposes against the poet's detractors. 
 It used to be supposed that this was an absolutely new departure 
 on Terence's part, but it is now found to be only the last in a 
 series of developments which began in Greek comedy/ 
 
 Of course monologues were not the invention of the play- 
 wrights, being found as early as Homer. Yet true soliloquies, as 
 seen in Shakespeare, are a late development in Greek drama. 
 The epic hero, when alone, may appeal to some divinity or the 
 elements, or he may address his own soul; he never simply thinks 
 his thoughts out loud. So long as the tragedies began with a 
 parodus the choreutae would nearly always be present; and a 
 character who was otherwise alone could address his remarks to 
 them. Consequently no monologues occur in either the Suppli- 
 
 * Cf. Reitzenstein, Hermes, XXXV (1900), 622 ff.
 
 THEATRICAL MACHINERY AND CONVENTIONS 305 
 
 ants or the Persians of Aeschylus. But with the introduction 
 of a prologue the way was opened up. It would be interesting 
 to know how the words of the eunuch at the beginning of Phryni- 
 chus' Phoenician Women were motivated, but no evidence is 
 available. In the extant plays of Aeschylus only three soHloquies 
 are found — in the Pro7netheus Bound (vss. 88 ff.)> Agamemnon 
 (vss. I ff.), and Eumenides (vss. i if.). The first is addressed 
 to the elements (ether, breezes, rivers, ocean, earth, and sun) and 
 the other two begin with prayer. There are also some other 
 speeches which are deHvered in the presence of the chorus or of 
 another character but with little or no reference thereto. If 
 completely detached, however, they are addressed to divinities 
 as before. It must be added that though monologues in Aeschy- 
 lus and other tragedians may be thus motivated at the beginning^ 
 they frequently trail off into expressions which are not strictly 
 appropriate. It is noticeable, then, that of the two types, of 
 motivation found in Homer only the first occurs in Aeschylus. 
 In Sophocles the situation is practically the same. 
 
 But already in the oldest of Euripides' extant tragedies, the 
 Alcestis, a development may be detected. Apollo's monologue 
 at the beginning of this play has just been discussed. It is 
 apparent that when a divinity utters a soliloquy he would rarely 
 address his words to some absent deity or to the elements, as 
 mortal personages did in Aeschylus and Sophocles. This factor 
 helps to account for the fact that dramatic illusion suffers here. 
 For all practical purposes Apollo might Just as well have frankly 
 addressed himself to the spectators, as the comic poets some- 
 times allowed their characters to do. Such prologizing deities 
 are careful to explain the reason for their presence in the place 
 where we find them ; but they are absolved from the necessity of 
 accounting for their soliloquizing. Their speeches sometimes 
 degenerate into business-like notices which are almost brusque 
 in their abruptness. For example, Posidon begins Euripides* 
 Trojan Women: 
 
 I come, Posidon I, from briny depths 
 
 Of the Aegean Sea, where Nereids dance, etc. 
 
 [Way's translation!
 
 3o6 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 This new freedom, which thus came first to divine prologists, 
 was soon extended also to mortals. Thus the heroine in Eurip- 
 ides' Andromache exclaims (vss. i ff.) : 
 
 O town of Thebes, beauty of Asian land, 
 
 Whence, decked with gold of costly bride-array, 
 
 To Priam's royal hearth long since I came, .... 
 
 Here on the marshes 'twixt Pharsalia's town 
 
 And Phthia's plains I dweU. [Way's translation] 
 
 The artificiality of Euripides' opening soliloquies strikingly 
 appears in his Orestes. Referring to Clytemnestra's murder of 
 her husband, Electra says (vss. 26 f.) : 
 
 Wherefore she slew,— a shame for maid to speak! — 
 
 I leave untold, for whoso will to guess. [Way's translation] 
 
 These words, together with certain other phrases, show clearly 
 that the speaker is conscious of an audience. 
 
 It will be worth our while to note and comment also upon the 
 other monologues in the Alcestis and the first one in the Medea j 
 these being the oldest of Euripides' extant tragedies. At vss. 
 243 ff. the dying Alcestis, in the presence of her husband and 
 the chorus and interrupted by the former at regular intervals, 
 bids a final farewell to sun, earth, palace, etc. This belongs to 
 the type found in Homer and Aeschylus and is paralleled by 
 Sophocles' Antigone (vss. 806 £f.) and Ajax (vss. 3722.). At 
 vs. 746 of the Alcestis occurs one of the few instances of a chorus 
 retiring during the course of a Greek play. Advantage is at 
 once taken of this circumstance. A reason for the servant's 
 leaving the palace at this point can readily be imagined but none 
 is expressly mentioned. Nor is the bluntness of his monologue 
 softened by any motivation. At vs. 773 Heracles appears and a 
 dialogue ensues between them. At vs. 837 the servant with- 
 draws ; Heracles tarries and bursts forth as follows (incidentally 
 obviating in this way the necessity of their departures in opposite 
 directions exactly synchronizing) : 
 
 O much-enduring heart and hand of mine, etc. 
 
 It will be observed that such an introduction for the following 
 soHloquy is a reversion to the second Homeric type, which now
 
 THEATRICAL MACHINERY AND CONVENTIONS 307 
 
 makes its first appearance in tragedy. At vs. 861 Admetus 
 re-enters with the chorus and apostrophizes his bereaved palace. 
 His speech at vs. 934 begins with the words "my friends," 
 referring to the chorus, and closes in the same way at vs. 961. 
 Except for these artificial sutures his words constitute in effect a 
 soliloquy. This play is especially valuable for our present 
 purpose as indicating what a hindrance the chorus was to the 
 unhampered use of monologues outside of the prologue, and how 
 quickly and freely they were called into requisition during its 
 withdrawal. The same deduction may be drawn also from 
 comedy. In the Old Comedy of Aristophanes, the chorus still 
 being active and vigorous, soliloquies were employed hardly 
 more freely than in Aeschylus or Sophocles. But by the time 
 of New Comedy, when the chorus had so far lost its functions 
 as to appear only for entr'actes and when Euripides' iimova- 
 tions had had time to work their full effect, monologues occur 
 with great frequency and are usually unmotived. In fact. 
 Professor Leo endeavored to use them in the plays of Plautus 
 and Terence, which are taken from originals of the Greek 
 New Comedy, as a criterion to determine the position of act 
 divisions. 
 
 From the Medea I wish to cite only the opening monologue, 
 which is spoken by the Colchian's nurse: 
 
 Would God that Argo's hidl had never flown 
 Through those blue Clashing Rocks to Colchis-land, 
 
 .... My mistress then, 
 Medea, ne'er had sailed to lolcos' towers 
 With love for Jason thrilled through all her soul. 
 
 [Way's translation] 
 
 An admirable quahty here is the passionate emotion which does 
 not always dominate Greek soliloquies. A little later (vs. 49) a 
 man slave enters and inquires : 
 
 O ancient chattel of my mistress' home, 
 
 Why at the gates thus lonely standest thou, 
 
 Thyself unto thyself discoursing ills ? 
 
 How wills Medea to be left of thee ? [Way's translation]
 
 3o8 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 She replies: 
 
 .... For I have sunk to such a depth of grief, 
 That yearning took me hitherward to come 
 And tell to earth and heaven my lady's plight. 
 
 [Way's translation] 
 
 It is noteworthy, however, that despite this statement her open- 
 ing monologue had not in fact been addressed to earth or sky. 
 Since Ibsen the soliloquy has been tabooed on the modern stage. 
 Yet inasmuch as people do at times talk aloud, when alone, it 
 would seem that the present-day reaction had gone too far and 
 that monologues, under proper psychological conditions, might 
 sometimes be allowed. Furthermore it must be supposed that 
 among impulsive southern races, like the Greeks and Romans, 
 soliloquizing would be more common than with us, and in con- 
 sequence it would naturally claim a larger part in their drama. 
 Nevertheless, we have seen that, until Euripides, the playwrights 
 restricted its use to such instances as could be motivated with 
 some degree of naturalness. Of these motives it must be allowed 
 that the least satisfactory was that founded on an appeal to the 
 elements. Of course most commentators have refused to recog- 
 nize this as a mere expository convention and have expatiated 
 upon the innate feeling for and sympathy with nature among the 
 Greeks, But as for myself I fear that this explanation has been 
 pressed unduly, Euripides, I am sure, felt self-conscious in 
 utilizing a device so threadbare and patent. My conviction is 
 based on the retroactive way in which he employed the motive 
 here in the Medea, on the fact that he often preferred to introduce 
 monologues without any motive than to resort to one so bald 
 and artificial as this, and especially on the guilty phrase which he 
 slips into the heroine's soliloquy in his Iphigenia among the 
 Taurians (vss. 42 f .) : 
 
 What visions strange the night hath brought to me 
 I'll teU to ether, if doing so brings help. 
 
 Though it is unsafe to set too much value upon the jibes of the 
 comic poets, yet it is not without interest to observe their attitude
 
 THEATRICAL MACHINERY AND CONVENTIONS 309 
 
 in this matter. Philemon placed a close parody of this Medea 
 
 passage in the mouth of a boastful cook •} 
 
 For yearning took me hitherward to come 
 And tell to earth and heaven — my cuisinerie! 
 
 And Plautus in his Merchant (vss. 3 ff.) preserved a more explicit 
 passage from the same poet of New Comedy : 
 
 I do not do as I've seen others do 
 
 In comedies, who through the power of love 
 
 Tell night, day, sun, or moon their miseries. 
 
 The foregoing statement of Euripidean usage is far from 
 exhaustive. Yet it is necessary to hasten on. Quite apart 
 from the effects which may be secured from monologues in 
 choral drama, there are no less than three additional uses to 
 which they can easily be put in chorusless plays. In terms of 
 classical drama, therefore, they will appear most frequently in 
 Greek New Comedy and in Plautus and Terence. 
 
 In the first place when two characters meet on the stage and 
 talk it is necessary for them either to appear simultaneously at 
 the two entrances (and it is self-evident that this method cannot 
 be employed very often without seeming ridiculous) or for 
 one of them to enter first and fill up a slight interval before the 
 other's arrival by soliloquizing. Such an entrance monologue 
 occurs at the beginning of Aristophanes' Lysistrata, where the 
 bearer of the title-role complains : 
 
 Now were they summoned to some shrine of Bacchus, 
 
 Pan, Colias, or Genetyllis, there had been 
 
 No room to stir, so thick the crowd of timbrels. 
 
 And now! — there's not one woman to be seen. 
 
 Stay, here comes one, my neighbor Calonice. 
 
 Good morning, friend. [Rogers' translation] 
 
 Perhaps I may be pardoned for digressing here a moment in 
 order to discuss what happens when two characters make a 
 simultaneous introit through the same entrance. In most cases 
 it is natural to suppose that they have been together for some 
 little while and that some talk has already been carried on 
 
 'Cf. Kock, Fragmenta Comicorum AUicorum, II, 500, fr. 79.
 
 3IO THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 between them. On the contrary in the fifth-century plays the 
 conversation regularly does not begin until after they have 
 entered the stage. Two instances of this have already been noted 
 on pages 259 f., above, Orestes coming all the way from Phocis 
 to Argos before he acquaints his associates with the Delphian 
 oracle or formulates a plan of action with them, and Iris accom- 
 panying Madness from Olympus but reserving her instructions 
 until Thebes has been reached. Of course it is easy to see why 
 this convention was employed, but a little thinking enabled the 
 playwrights to secure the same results without violating veri- 
 similitude quite so patently. Only twice in fifth-century drama 
 do characters enter with words which indicate that they have 
 already been engaged in conversation. In Aristophanes' Frogs 
 (405 B.C.) (vs. 830), Euripides says to Dionysus, as they emerge 
 with Pluto from the latter's palace: "I would not yield the 
 throne of tragedy to Aeschylus; do not urge me to." Again in 
 Euripides' posthumous Iphigenia at Aulis (vss. 303 ff.), Agamem- 
 non's slave enters in expostulation: "Menelaus, outrageous is 
 
 your boldness You ought not to have unsealed the tablet 
 
 which I bore." The former of these quotations clearly implies 
 words off scene, and the latter implies action and presumably 
 words as well. But in New Comedy and the Latin comedies 
 this technique has, not unnaturally, pre-empted the field. Two 
 instances must suffice. In Terence's version of Menander's 
 Andrian Girl (vss. 820 f.), Chremes enters complaining: "My 
 friendship for you, Simo, has already been put sufficiently to the 
 test; I have run enough risk. Now make an end of coaxing 
 me." Again, in Terence's Brothers (vs. 517), Ctesipho and Syrus 
 enter together, the former saying: "You say my father has gone 
 to the country ?" It is characteristic of this technique that the 
 J very first words make plain the fact that the stage conversation 
 is a continuation of one already begun off stage and likewise 
 disclose the topic under discussion. It will be remembered that 
 simultaneous entrances of this sort, when made from the abode 
 of one of the characters involved, are generally left unmotivated 
 (see p. 239, above).
 
 THEATRICAL MACHINERY AND CONVENTIONS 311 
 
 After this digression we may return to the second use which 
 New Comedy made of monologues, viz., as exit speeches. Since 
 there was no drop curtain in the Greek theater, all characters 
 had to go off as well as come on ; no tableau effects to terminate 
 a scene were possible. Moreover, in order to avoid the simul- 
 taneous exit of all the persons in a scene, it often seemed best 
 to detain one of them beyond the rest and allow him to fill a 
 brief interval with a soliloquy. As already mentioned this 
 technique occurs so frequently in Plautus and Terence that an 
 attempt has been made to utilize it as a criterion for a division 
 of the Roman comedies into acts. Such an exit soliloquy has 
 already been noted in Euripides' Alcestis, vss. 837 ff. (p. 306, 
 above). 
 y In the third place, unless a new character is to enter the stage 
 ^ at the very instant that an old one leaves it, the actor who engages 
 in successive dialogue with each of them must cause a shght 
 pause by soliloquizing. Such a soliloquy is technically known 
 as a "link." One is found in the monologue which Strepsiades 
 utters between the withdrawal of his son and the entrance of 
 Socrates' pupil (Aristophanes' Clouds, vss. 126 ff.). Links are 
 often extremely short, sometimes being no more than a cough or 
 hem; they are frequently employed to cover the condensa- 
 tion of time, especially when they occur between the exit 
 and re-entrance of the same character. Furthermore, they 
 occur in playwrights who reject other forms of soliloquy, no 
 less than five instances appearing in Ibsen's Pillars of Society 
 alone. 
 
 So long as the chorus retained its vigor, dramatists found it 
 easier, except in the prologue or during occasional withdrawals 
 of the chorus in the course of the action, to fill gaps by remarks 
 addressed to the coryphaeus than by entrance soliloquies, exit 
 soliloquies, or links. Yet they do occur in choral drama, and 
 I have cited one instance illustrative of each type from fifth- 
 century plays. In comedies of subsequent date, in which the 
 chorus was greatly curtailed or nonexistent, they may be found 
 by the score.
 
 312 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND IS DRAMA 
 
 It still remains to speak of another kind of soliloquy, viz., the 
 aside or, more accurately speaking, the apart, by which the grim 
 ghastHness of modern tragedy has often been enhanced. The 
 vastness of Greek theaters and the almost constant presence 
 of from twelve to twenty-four choreutae rendered this artifice 
 an awkward one for ancient playwrights. Nevertheless, asides 
 are occasionally found in Greek drama. In Euripides' Hippoly- 
 tus (vss. 1060 ff.), that hero, unable to clear himself of false 
 accusations except by violating his oath of secrecy, exclaims to 
 himself : 
 
 O Gods, why can I not unlock my lips, 
 Who am destroyed by you whom I revere ? 
 No! — whom I need persuade, I should not so, 
 And all for nought should break the oaths I swore. 
 
 [Way's translation], 
 
 entirely unheard by his father and the chorus close at hand. 
 Half-asides occur in Euripides' Hecahe (vss. 736-51), where the 
 Trojan queen utters no less than four aparts, an aggregate of ten 
 verses, in an effort to decide whether to appeal to Agamemnon 
 for aid. His interruptions indicate that he is aware that she is 
 speaking but does not catch the drift of her words. It should 
 be noted, however, that these passages do not contain the ironic 
 values which have usually inhered in the use of aparts upon the 
 modern stage. The obstacles hampering the employment of 
 asides in fifth-century times appear most plainly from scenes like 
 Euripides' Ion (vss. 1520 fif.), where two actors wish to speak 
 to one another privately. Their confidences must be uttered 
 loud enough to be heard by the seventeen thousand spectators, 
 but the nearby chorus catches not a word. With the virtual 
 disappearance of the chorus in New Comedy the apart, not 
 unnaturally, came into more frequent use and was employed 
 more as it has been in modern times. 
 
 For the absence of ironic aparts, however, Greek tragedy was 
 richly compensated by the frequent occurrence of dramatic irony. 
 Irony of course is a mode of speech by means of which is conveyed 
 a meaning contrary to the literal sense of the words, and may
 
 THEATRICAL MACHINERY AND CONVENTIONS 313 
 
 be divided into two classes — "verbal" and "practical" (to use 
 Bishop Thirlwall's term) or "dramatic." In the former the 
 dissimulation is manifest to all concerned, else the sarcasm, 
 passing unrecognized, would fail of its effect and recoil upon the 
 speaker, while in the latter (which alone interests us here) 
 concealment of the hinted truth is essential. It may be the 
 speaker himself who fails to perceive the inner meaning of his own 
 words (and then we call it "objective" irony), or he may employ 
 "subjective" irony, i.e., consciously use his superior knowledge, 
 to gloat over his victim or inveigle him to doom by an ambiguous 
 utterance. In either case, however, the double entente is usually 
 known to the audience, a considerable part of whose pleasure 
 consists in viewing with prophetic insight the abortive efforts 
 of the dramatic characters to escape the impending catastrophe. 
 An excellent instance of conscious irony occurs in Middleton 
 and Rowley's Changeling, Act III, scene 2. There De Flores is 
 guiding Alonzo about the castle where he intends to murder him, 
 and significantly says: 
 
 All this is nothing; you shall see anon 
 A place you little dream on. 
 
 The unconscious irony, however, is likely to be more tragic in its 
 tone. So when lago first conceives his groundless suspicions of 
 his wife and Othello he vows that he will be 
 
 evened with him, wife for wife. {Othello, Act II, scene 2], 
 
 and these words are fulfilled in a sense far different than he 
 intended, by the death of both wives. For this sort of irony 
 Sophocles was especially renowned, and his Oedipus the King 
 abounds in instances. One must suffice. Oedipus has slain 
 his own father, the reigning king, though these facts are unknown 
 to him. Being now directed by an oracle to investigate his 
 predecessor's death, he declares, with more meaning than he 
 realized: "I will fight this battle for him as for mine own sire" 
 (vss. 264). 
 
 It is possible to draw still one more distinction. Dramatic 
 irony consists, not only in the contrast between the outer,
 
 314 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 apparent meaning and the real, inner meaning of an ambiguous 
 phrase, but also in the contrast between the real and the supposed 
 situation. Thus a man whose ruin is impending often mistakes 
 the position of his affairs so utterly as to indulge in entirely- 
 unjustified expressions, feelings, gestures, or acts of rejoicing 
 and triumph. The difference between these two varieties of 
 dramatic irony may be seen in Sophocles' Maidens of Trachis. 
 In the first place we have the contradiction between the real 
 meaning of the oracle that Heracles' "release from toils will be 
 accomplished" and Heracles' own mistaken interpretation 
 thereof (vss. 167 f. and iiyoff.); and in the second place there 
 is the "irony of situation" in that Deianira sends him a gift 
 which she hopes will woo back his love but which actually 
 results in his death. Euripides' Bacchanals offers other examples 
 in the boastful and confident attitude of Pentheus, whom the 
 spectators know to be doomed to a frightful end, and in the 
 mock humiUty of Dionysus, whose intended vengeance they 
 foresee. Again, in Sophocles' Oedipus the King (vss. ioi4ff.) 
 there is a striking contrast between the intended and the actual 
 effect when the Corinthian messenger informs Oedipus that 
 Polybus was not his father. This irony of situation often consists 
 in the clash or shock of conflicting intrigues, as may be seen in 
 Shakespeare's Measure for Measure. 
 
 But dramatic irony was not confined to tragedy, as a brief 
 analysis of one of Terence's plays will disclose. In comedy, 
 however, the effect was naturally somewhat different, being more 
 humorous than tragic. In the Andrian Girl, Simo intrigues to 
 test his son's obedience, pretending that he has arranged an 
 immediate marriage for him with Chremes' daughter. Accord- 
 ingly there is irony of situation in the consternation which this 
 false armouncement causes (vss. 236 ff. and 301 ff.). Pamphilus' 
 slave (Davus), however, soon sees through the trick and per- 
 suades him to turn back the intrigue (and, consequently, the 
 irony) upon his father by apparent compliance (vss. 420 ff.). 
 But Simo at once proceeds to get Chremes' consent in fact, so 
 that the dramatic situation is again reversed, as the too clever
 
 THEATRICAL MACHINERY AND CONVENTIONS 31$ 
 
 slave discovers to his surprise when he facetiously inquires why 
 the wedding is being delayed (vss. 581 fif.)- Especially galling 
 are Simo's words (said without a full comprehension of how true 
 they are): "Now I beseech you, Davus, since you alone have 
 brought about this marriage .... exert yourself further that 
 my son be brought into line " (vss. 595 f .). There is also irony in 
 the conduct of Charinus, who is a suitor for Chremes' daughter 
 and is naturally (though needlessly) disturbed at the thought of 
 Pamphilus' marrying her (vss. 301 £f., 625 £f., and 957 ff.). Of 
 course there is always irony involved when a man leads himself 
 astray or allows another so to lead him; but as these are the 
 standard themes of comedy, one need not cite every such 
 instance. 
 
 The best instance in this play, however, can be appreciated 
 only on second reading or as the memory of the spectator recalls 
 its real significance. Simo wishes his son to marry Chremes' 
 daughter, but Pamphilus' affections are already pledged else- 
 where. Now unknown to all the parties concerned this sweet- 
 heart is also Chremes' daughter. There is, therefore, more 
 meaning than he intends or perceives in Pamphilus' despairing 
 question: " Can I in no way avoid relationship with Chremes ? " 
 (vs. 247). 
 
 This is similar to Admetus' words in Euripides' Alcestis 
 (vs. 1 102) when Heracles insists that he receive into his home a 
 veiled woman (really Admetus' own wife restored to life) : 
 "Would you had never won her in a wrestling bout!" But in 
 the present instance the identity of Pamphilus' mistress does 
 not transpire until later, so that, as I have stated, the irony is 
 not at first apparent. There is here a point of difference between 
 tragedy and comedy in antiquity: the themes of tragedy were 
 almost invariably drawn from mythology and the outlines of the 
 story would therefore be known to practically everyone of 
 consequence in the audience; furthermore, the not infrequent 
 practice of foretelling the denouement in the prologue would put 
 even the ignorant in a position to recognize subtleties in the 
 language of the characters. That the ancient playwrights
 
 3l6 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 themselves appreciated this difference appears from the words 
 of the comic poet, Antiphanes, aheady quoted on page 127, 
 above. As a result, in ancient tragedy the irony of a situation 
 or ambiguous phrase would be recognized at once without any 
 preparation for it whatsoever, while in ancient comedy and in 
 modern plays, whether tragic or comic, these effects usually have 
 to be led up to. Two other considerations ought also to be 
 mentioned, however. First, audiences exercise a sort of clair- 
 voyance in looking beneath the bare words and divining the 
 course of events, so that (paradoxical as it sounds) the surprises 
 of the stage usually are long foreseen by the spectators and only 
 the expected events happen. Secondly, the denouement here 
 in question, the discovery that Pamphilus' sweetheart is the 
 daughter of free parents and, in particular, of someone among the 
 dramatis personae, was so hackneyed in New Comedy, occurring 
 in no less than five of Terence's six plays, that any frequent 
 theatergoer would have been on the lookout for it and might 
 easily have recognized any subtle effects dependent thereon. 
 
 In conclusion, we have to consider the dramatic purpose of 
 tragic irony and its effect upon the audience. Bishop Thirlwall 
 {op. ciL, p. 489) pointed out: 
 
 There is always a slight cast of irony in the grave, calm, respectful 
 attention impartially bestowed by an intelligent judge on two contending 
 parties, who are pleading their causes before him with all the earnestness 
 of deep conviction, and of excited feeling. What makes the contrast 
 interesting is, that the right and the truth lie on neither side exclusively: 
 that there is no fraudulent purpose, no gross imbecility of intellect, on either: 
 but both have plausible claims and specious reasons to allege, though each 
 is too much blinded by prejudice or passion to do justice to the views of his 
 adversary. For here the irony lies not in the demeanor of the judge, but is 
 deeply seated in the case itself, which seems to favor both of the litigants, 
 but really eludes them both. 
 
 This analogy is especially true when the irony arises from 
 clashing intrigues, and the audience, admitted to the author's 
 confidence and sitting at his side, as it were, joins with him in 
 awarding praise here and condemnation there. Again the play- 
 wright is the omnipotent creator and ruler of the little world
 
 THEATRICAL MACHINERY AND CONVENTIONS 317 
 
 that moves upon the stage. And the spectator, beholding the 
 dramatic characters' fruitless toil and plotting, baseless exulta- 
 tion, and needless despondency seems to be admitted behind the 
 scenes of this world's tragedy and to view the spectacle through 
 the great dramatist's eyes, learning that man must be content 
 with little, humble ever, distrustful of fortune, and fearful of the 
 powers above. Thus the slighter themes and less important 
 reverses of comedy bring a purification (Kadapais) in their train 
 no less truly than the more somber catastrophes of tragedy.^ 
 
 ' Aristotle's theory of the purificatory effects of tragedy has not fallen within 
 the scope of my text, but I cannot forbear citing Fairchild, "Aristotle's Doctrine 
 of Katharsis and the Positive or Constructive Activity Involved," Classical Journal, 
 XII (1916), 44 ff. Stuart, "The Function and the Dramatic Value of the Recogni- 
 tion Scene in Greek Tragedy," American Journal of Philology, XXXIX (191 8), 
 268 ff., maintains that Aristotle's terms eXeos and <t>60os, which are usually trans- 
 lated "pity and fear," must be interpreted as including also such emotions as 
 "sympathy" and "suspense."
 
 Footprints on the sands of time. — 
 H. W. Longfellow. 
 
 CHAPTER DC 
 THEATRICAL RECORDS^ 
 
 The technical word used of bringing out a play was SLdacrKeiu 
 ("to teach"), and the technical name for the director of the 
 performance was didascalus (StSacr/caXos) or "teacher." We 
 have already noted (p. 198, above) that didascalia (StSaaKaXta; 
 "teaching") was the name for a group of plays brought out by a 
 tragic playwright at one time, and the same word was applied 
 to a record of the theatrical contests. At the beginning the 
 didascalus and the author were identical, for the reason that the 
 primitive poets taught the choreutae what they were to sing, 
 that the poets in the one-actor period carried the histrionic parts 
 themselves and still taught the choreutae their roles, and that 
 even when they had ceased to act in their plays they yet 
 continued to train those who did. 
 
 The Athenian archons seem to have kept records of the 
 contests at the Dionysiac festivals, the archon eponymus for 
 the City Dionysia and the king archon for the Lenaea. These 
 records, of course, were not compiled in the interests of literary 
 research such as flourished in Alexandrian times but merely for 
 the private convenience of the officials and for documentary 
 purposes. Apparently they consisted of a bald series of entries, 
 
 ^ Cf. Capps, "Dramatic Synchoregia at Athens," American Journal of Philol- 
 ogy, XVII (1896) 319 fif.; "Catalogues of Victors at the Dionysia and Lenaea," 
 ibid., XX (1899), 388 ff.; "The Dating of Some Didascalic Inscriptions," American 
 Journal of Archaeology, IV (1900), 74 ff.; "The Introduction of Comedy into the 
 City Dionysia," Decennial Publications of the University of Chicago, VI (1904), 
 259 ff.; and " Epigraphical Problems in the History of Attic Comedy," American 
 Journal of Philology, XXVIII (1907), 179 ff.; Wilhelm, Urkunden dramatischer 
 Au^ffUhrungen in Athen (1906), and "Eine Inschrift aus Athen," Anzeiger d. 
 Akademie d. Wissenschaften in Wien, phil.-hist. Klasse, XLIII (1906), 77 ff.; Clark, 
 "A Study of the Chronology of Menander's Life," Classical Philology, I (1906), 
 3135.; Oxyrkynchus Papyri, IV (1904), 69 ff., and X (1914), 81 ff.; O'Connor, 
 Chapters in the History of Actors and Acting in Ancient Greece (1908); Jachmann, 
 De Aristotelis Didascaliis (1909); and Flickinger, "Certain Numerals in the Greek 
 Dramatic Hypotheses," Classical Philology, V (1910), i ff. 
 
 318
 
 THEATRICAL RECORDS 319 
 
 chronicling the choregi, tribes, poet-didascali, actors, plays, and 
 victors in the various dithyrambic and dramatic events. In 
 the fourth century B.C. these archives were published by Aris- 
 totle in a work entitled Didascaliae. His service probably was 
 mainly that of unearthing the material and arranging it in 
 chronological sequence and of making it available to a wider 
 public, for Dr. Jachmann has made it seem clear that he did not 
 edit the archons' record to any great extent. In consequence 
 Aristotle's book contained too much and was overloaded with 
 unimportant details. Its main value consisted in being a court 
 of last resort and a source from which smaller and less unwieldy 
 lists might be compiled. 
 
 Some of these indirect products of Aristotle's industry were 
 entered upon stone and are still preserved in fragments. The 
 first of these is for convenience referred to as the Fasti ("cal- 
 endar" or "register") and contained the annual victors in each 
 event at the City Dionysia from about 502/1 B.C. when volunteer 
 comuses were first given a place in the festival program. This 
 inscription was cut upon the face of a wall built of four rows of 
 superimposed blocks and almost six feet in height. The text 
 was arranged in vertical columns. There were originally sixteen 
 of these and most of them contained one hundred and forty-one 
 Hnes. The presence of a heading over the first five columns, 
 however, reduced the lines upon them to one hundred and forty. 
 For the most part the lines in adjoining columns were placed 
 exactly opposite one another, but toward the bottom of col. 13 
 the writing was crowded so that this column perhaps contained 
 no less than one hundred and fifty-three lines. As the entries 
 for 346-342 B.C. fell in this space, most authorities accept 
 Dr. Wilhelm's conclusion that the body of the inscription was 
 cut at that period and received additional entries, year by year, 
 for subsequent festivals until about 319 b.c.^ Whoever was 
 
 ' Reisch, however, in his review of Wilhehn in Zeitschrift f. ostr. Gymnasien, 
 LVIII (1907), 297 f. maintained that the original cutting went to the bottom of 
 col. 14. This would postpone the preparation of the inscription until about 330 B.C. 
 and would make it a feature of the completion of the theater by Lycurgus at about 
 that time. He suggests that the Fasti stood in the left parodus of the theater.
 
 320 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 responsible for the original inscription must have excerpted the 
 appropriate items from Aristotle's Didascaliae and, for the brief 
 period intervening between the publication of Aristotle's book 
 and 346-342 B.C., from the original archives. 
 
 IT p tl) T\0 V K W 
 
 [SJeTOKXeiSrjs ixop'fl'ye 
 
 \M.^a.yvqs idldanKev 
 
 Tpa7wi5wi' 
 
 UepiKXTJs Xo\ap: ix'Op'^ 
 ! Ai<TxvKos ^[Sj/SaiTKe 
 ['ETri XdprjTos 472/1] 
 
 [ — ira.l8uv] 
 
 [6 deiva ^xop'^V^O 
 
 [ — dvSpwj'] 
 [6 deha ^x]°[P'^^''] 
 
 [ku/mwiSwv] 
 
 [6 deiva ix]opT^yei 
 
 [ iSl8]a(7K€v 
 
 [rpayioidCiv] 
 s [6 deiva ix^op^yei 
 
 HoXvcppda fiu^v iSidaff 
 ['EttI Ilpa^i.ipyo]v 471/0 
 
 [ vtU nalldiov 
 
 [ ^Xo]P'77" 
 
 •o [ dvdp]u)v 
 
 [ ^x]op'^y 
 
 [KUfiUlBwv] 
 
 [ fXO/"57«]' 
 
 \kt\. 
 
 fi I Tj a a V riS[i Atoyi/ 
 TiavSiov^s dv5pCiv\ 
 K\eaf»'6T[os KnSa^rj: ixop'qyei] 
 
 Qap[ ixop'f)!^'-] 
 
 \b deiva i5l8affKe] 
 [rpayuiduv] 
 
 [ ]: ^Xopi} 
 
 [ ] idi8a(7Kev 
 
 ['Eirl ^L\o]K\iovs 459/8 
 [OijvTjts TraiSijJv 
 Ariii68oKos ixopiriye 
 
 'iTTTToduVTls dvSpQv 
 
 Eu/crijyuajv 'EXeu: ix°P'^ 
 
 Kb)flli)lSu>V 
 
 'EvpvKXeiSrjs ^x°P''57" 
 Eu0p6vtos i8i8a(rKe 
 Tpay(i3i8G>v 
 
 Seyo/cX^s A<pi8va: ix'^P'^ 
 Aicrx^Xos iSl8affKev 
 'EttT A^puvos 458/7 
 Epex^'?'^ 7rai5a>v 
 Xaplas' Ay pv\i]: ixop'^ 
 AetovrU dv8pCov 
 AeivScrrpaTos ix^Pivy^i-] 
 
 K(i}/JL(j}lSQ)V 
 
 [ ^x]op-ny[ei- 
 
 a w I — 
 
 [6 Seiva exop'^iyei] 
 [6 8eiva eOt'6ao"/ce] 
 [vTTOKpiTTjs 6 Seiva] 
 [ EttJ Ti/Mapx^8ov 447/ 
 [ — is iraiScov] 
 [6 8etva ixopToyti] 
 E[/)ex^'7^s dvSpQv] 
 B/to[j' ^x<'P''77*'] 
 
 /Cw[;U.Wl6u>J'] 
 
 'A;'5[ — ixoprjyei] 
 Ka\[\ias i8l8a<TKev] 
 Tpa[yci}i8Qv^ 
 GaX[ — ixop^yei] 
 Ka[pKlvos iSiSaffKe] 
 VTr[oKpiTT]i 6 Seiva] 
 E7r[t KaWifjidxov 446/ ^ 
 [ktX.] 
 
 Fig. 75. — ^Wilhelm's Transcription and Restoration of Two Fragments of the 
 Athenian Fasti. 
 
 See p. 320, n. i 
 
 The character of the Fasti will appear most clearly from 
 Fig. 75,* a transcript and restoration of two fragments on which 
 were originally cut the tops of cols. 3-5. The Greek letters 
 within brackets are restorations where the stone is broken away 
 or illegible. Inasmuch as the entries follow a fixed order from 
 
 ' Fig. 75 is taken from Wilhehn, Urkunden dramatischer Aufftihrungen in 
 Athen, p. 18, and represents fragments a and/ of Corpus Inscriptionum Graecarum, 
 
 n, 971.
 
 THEATRICAL RECORDS 321 
 
 year to year and occupy a definite number of lines, except as 
 slight changes were occasionally introduced into the program, it 
 is often easy to restore everything but proper names. Of the 
 heading of the inscription, which extended over the first five 
 columns, only the center is preserved. When complete it 
 probably read somewhat as follows: oibe vevLKrjKacrtv .... d^' 
 ov irpcor]ov koojjloi ^aav rco[t ^lovwooi 'EXevdepel ("The following 
 gained the victory .... since first there were comuses in 
 honor of Dionysus Eleuthereus ") • Let us examine more closely 
 the record of the year which begins at line nine in the second 
 column of Fig. 75 (col. 4 in the complete inscription). The 
 entries for each year begin with eirl ("in the time of"), followed 
 by the name of the Athenian archon eponymus in the genitive 
 case. The archon for this year was Philocles, whose term ran 
 from July, 459 B.C., to July, 458 B.C. Since the festivals came 
 in the spring the record under consideration is for the City 
 Dionysia of 458 B.C. The inscription is so formulaic and con- 
 densed that it has necessarily been expanded somewhat in the 
 following translation : 
 
 In the archonship of Philocles. 
 
 The tribe Oeneis was victorious with 
 
 a dithyrambic chorus of boys; 
 Demodocus was choregus. 
 The tribe Hippothontis was victorious 
 
 with a dithyrambic chorus of men; 
 Euctemon of Eleusis was choregus. 
 In the contest of comedians: 
 EurycHdes was choregus, 
 Euphronius was didascalus. 
 In the contest of tragedians: 
 Xenocles of Aphidnae was choregus, 
 Aeschylus was didascalus. 
 
 This was the year in which Aeschylus competed in Athens for 
 the last time and was victorious with his Orestean trilogy. 
 
 About 278 B.C. two other inscriptions were compiled from 
 Aristotle's publication of theatrical records. I refer to the 
 stone Didascaliae and to the Victors'-Lists. The former gave
 
 322 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 the full program of the dramatic, but not the dithyrambic, 
 events for each year and fell into four divisions, dealing respec- 
 tively with tragedy and with m? ^ %; ' i / 
 comedy at each of the two r j 
 
 festivals. Fig. 76a^ gives a [TraAaJat Ne[o7rTdAe/tos] 
 
 transcript of two fragments ['l</)i-ye]vetui Eup[t7r]iSo[v] 
 
 which reproduce the programs t'^"^]^ 'Ao-rvSa/^as 
 
 of tragedy at the City , ['AxclAAcr ^^re: ©eTraXo'^ 
 
 Dionysia m 341 and 340 B.C. ['Av^yov.?^ i^e: 'AVoScuLpos] 
 
 They may be freely trans- [Eujaperos 8[ev:] Tempwi 
 
 lated, as shown on p. 323. [wrje: 'A6r]v68wpo<s 
 
 There are several matters ['A;)(i]AX£t v[Tre]: ©cTTaAo's 
 
 here which are worthy of com- " j:; • • ^Jt^^^^: N]eo7rrdAe/xo5 
 
 ment. It will be noted that L ^"^^'^^J '^P'-/ 
 
 by 341 B.C. the tragic poets .,, 'Opearrjc [irre: ' AOrivoSo^pos] 
 
 no longer closed each group of Avyiyi iire: 0eTTa[Ads] 
 
 plays with a satyric drama, '* vtto: NeoTrToAe/ios cvtK[a] 
 
 but one satyr-play was per- ' '^'^^ NtKo/^axou o-arvpi 341/0 
 
 formed instead as a preface _Tcp^K\^, AvKor^pya>c 
 
 , . TraAaiat: NeoTTToAe/xl osj 
 
 to the tragic contest. It fol- .p, ^ t^ > s 
 
 O -at UpeCTTTjL t^vpiTTLOO 
 
 lowed that the playwrights. » ^^r?: 'AarvSafms 
 
 the number of whose dramas Uapdevo-n-aLWL iire: ©cT[TaAos] 
 
 now corresponded to that of [AvKd]ovt we: Neo7rTdAe[/AosJ 
 
 the star performers, were no t; • ' "^"^"i^ ^f^'= ^P'^'^' 
 
 longer handicapped by being ,^ f^.^.j^^g^ .^^^ N.o.roA[e^os] 
 
 allotted the exclusive services ~[Evdp]eTos rpc 
 
 of a single star and his troupe ['AAK]/*6[a>v]i: ^ttc: 0£Tra[Aos] 
 
 but were placed upon terms [• . • A]7;t: vire: Neo7rTd[A£] 
 
 of perfect equaHty by having i^'^^' ©[cT-TaAos cvtm 
 
 all the stars in turn at their '" rE7rl®eo]cl>pdcTTovaa[rvpL34o/39 
 
 command, each for a different r \ - 'Jr ^t^^'^p 1 
 
 ' [TraAaiaf IStKrJoo-TpLaTOSj 
 
 tragedy. This explains why [ EvjptmTSovJ 
 
 in 340 B.C., when we must [ ]o [• • • 
 
 ' Fig. 76a is taken from Wilhelm, , ^iG. 76a.-Wilhelm's Transcription 
 
 ... J ^ ^ .. and Restoration of Two Fragments or 
 
 op. at., p. 40, and represents Corpus ^^^ g^^^^ Didascaliae at Athens. 
 
 Inscnpttonum Graecarum, II, 973. See p. 322, n. i
 
 THEATRICAL RECORDS 325 
 
 suppose that three players of the first rank with their sup- 
 porting companies were for some reason not available, the 
 
 In the archonship of Sosigenes (342/1 B.C.). Satyr-play: 
 
 was poet with his . 
 
 Old tragedy: Neoptolemus 
 
 acted in Euripides' Iphigenia. 
 
 Poets: Astydamas was first 
 
 with the Achilles acted by Thettalus 
 
 with the Athamas acted by Neoptolemus 
 
 with the Antigone acted by Athenodorus; 
 
 Evaretus was second with the Teucer 
 
 acted by Athenodorus 
 
 with the Achilles acted by Thettalus 
 
 with the acted by Neoptolemus; 
 
 Aphareus was third with the Daughters of Pelias 
 
 acted by Neoptolemus 
 
 with the Orestes acted by Athenodorus 
 
 with the Auge acted by Thettalus; 
 
 the actor Neoptolemus was victor. 
 In the archonship of Nicomachus (341/0 B.C.). Satyr-play: 
 
 Timocles was poet with his Lycurgus. 
 
 Old tragedy: Neoptolemus 
 
 acted in Euripides' Orestes. 
 
 Poets: Astydamas was first 
 
 with the Parthenopaeus acted by Thettalus 
 
 with the Lycaon acted by Neoptolemus; 
 
 cles was second with the Phrixus 
 
 acted by Thettalus 
 
 with the Oedipus acted by Neoptolemus; 
 
 Evaretus was third 
 
 with the Alcmeon acted by Thettalus 
 
 with the acted by Neoptolemus; 
 
 the actor Thettalus was victor. 
 
 Fig. 766. — Translation of Inscription in Fig. 76a 
 
 number of tragedies presented by each playwright was likewise 
 reduced to two and the histrionic talent was thus kept evenly 
 distributed. The fact that the tragic writers no longer devoted 
 whole trilogies to different aspects of the same theme made 
 it easy to reduce the number of tragedies in any year in 
 order to conform to an emergency in the histrionic conditions.
 
 324 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 Furthermore, old tragedies were not now permitted to compete 
 with new ones, as was said to have been the practice in the case of 
 Aeschylus' plays after his decease (see p. 203, above) ; but begin 
 ning at the City Dionysia of 386 B.C., as we learn from the Fasti, 
 an old tragedy was performed, outside of the contest, every year 
 It is interesting to observe that in both these years and again in 
 339 B.C. (see next to the last line in Fig. 76a) plays of Euripides 
 were chosen for this purpose, and this is in accord with the steady 
 growth of that poet's popularity as compared with Aeschylus 
 and Sophocles. As already stated, the DidascaHae were inscribed 
 in 278 B.C., but the record was kept up to date by contempora- 
 neous entries for over a century subsequently. 
 
 The Victors'-Lists were prepared at the same time as the 
 stone Didascaliae and were likewise derived from Aristotle,^ but 
 they were very different in character. They recorded the aggre- 
 gate of victories won by poets and actors in tragedy and comedy 
 at each of the two festivals — eight lists in all. I shall content 
 myself with citing one fragment from the Hst of tragic poets 
 who were victorious at the City Dionysia (cf. Fig. 77 a and b).' 
 The names were arranged in the chronological order of their 
 first victory at the festival in question, in this case the City 
 Dionysia; and after each name was entered the total number of 
 victories gained at that festival. We are especially interested 
 in two names in this list, Aeschylus and Sophocles. Of course 
 the former's name did not originally head the Hst; it stood in the 
 eleventh line. The numeral is broken away from behind his 
 name, but we know from other sources that he won thirteen 
 (AIII) victories. He died before the establishment of the 
 tragic contest at the Lenaea, so that his competition was 
 
 ' Korte, "Aristoteles' NIKAI AIONTSIAKAI," Classical Philology, I (1906), 
 391 ff., maintained that the Victors'-Lists were transferred to stone straight 
 from another book of Aristotle's entitled N?Kai Aiovucria/cal 'Ao-rt/cai Kal Arjval'Kal. 
 ("Victories at the City Dionysia and the Lenaea"). Our knowledge of the nature 
 of this work is confined to what can be inferred from its title and is too vague to 
 justify dogmatic conclusions. 
 
 ^ Figs. 77a and b are taken from Wilhelm, op. ciL, loi, and represent Corpus 
 Inscriptionum Graecarum, II, 977a and ab respectively.
 
 i"'iu. 77a. — A Fragment of the Athenian Victors'-List 
 See p. 324, n. 2 
 
 
 [..... .]a4-] 
 
 
 
 ||KapK(.'Jvos A 1 
 
 
 — 
 
 ['Ao-rJi^Sa/xas n II [— 
 
 -?] 
 
 [Ai]o-;)(i;[Xo9 — ] 
 
 [®eo]8€/<ras P 1 1 
 
 
 [Eu]eV?^9 1 
 
 ['A</>a]/3ei;s H 
 
 
 [no]Au</)pao-/i,[wv — ] 
 
 [. . . . co]v II 
 
 A. 
 
 [No^JlTTTTO? 1 
 
 
 $p- 
 
 [2o<^]okA^s APIII 
 
 II 
 
 'Ofx. 
 
 [. .. .lro,ll[-?] 
 
 
 A' 
 
 ['Apto-Tl]as [ ] 
 
 
 -- 
 
 Fig. 776. — Wilhelm's Transcription and Restoration of Two Fragments of the 
 
 Athenian \'ictors'-List. 
 
 See p. 324, n. 2
 
 THEATRICAL RECORDS 325 
 
 restricted to the City Dionysia. But Suidas reports that accord- 
 ing to some Aeschylus had gained twenty-eight victories. 
 Perhaps the larger number is not to be rejected as worthless 
 but is to be regarded as including the victories which Aeschylus' 
 plays are said to have won after his decease in competition, at 
 both festivals, with the works of living tragedians. To Sophocles 
 the inscription assigns eighteen (API 1 1) victories at the City 
 Dionysia, and that is the number which most authorities give. 
 But Suidas, who regularly records the aggregate of victories at 
 both festivals, credits him with twenty-four victories. Sophocles 
 must, therefore, have been victorious six times at the Lenaea. 
 Euripides' name does not appear upon any extant portion of the 
 Victors'-List. He is usually stated to have won five victories, 
 but some notices report fifteen. Possibly we are to understand 
 that he won ten Lenaean victories. His comparative lack of 
 success while living thus stands in striking contrast to his 
 popularity subsequently. 
 
 Dr. Reisch has propounded an ingenious and plausible theory 
 with reference to the housing of the Didascaliae and the Victors'- 
 Lists (cf. op. ciL, pp. 302 ff.). He believes that these catalogues 
 were prepared for the master of contests (the agonothete, see 
 p. 271, above) for the year 278 B.C., who also erected a special 
 structure in the precinct of Dionysus Eleuthereus to receive 
 them. The dedicatory inscription is extant, but unfortunately 
 the name of the agonothete is broken away. He supposes this 
 building to have been hexagonal, with three sides of solid wall 
 and the other three left open. This arrangement was designed 
 to afford a maximum of fight for reading the inscriptions on the 
 interior of the building. On the left wall, as one passed through 
 the main entrance, were cut the tragic Didascaliae of the City 
 Dionysia. On the architrave above was the Victors'-List for 
 the tragic poets at this festival, and on the architrave over the 
 adjoining (open) side to the right was the Victors'-List for the 
 tragic actors. On the next wall to the right were the comic 
 Didascaliae of the City Dionysia, and on the architrave above 
 that side and the adjoining (open) one were the Victors'-Lists of
 
 326 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA % 
 
 the comic poets and actors who had won victories at this festival. 
 On the third wall stood both the comic and also the tragic 
 DidascaUae of the Lenaea. On the architrave above this wall 
 were the Victors'-Lists of the comic poets and actors at the Lenaea, 
 and on the architrave above the sixth (open) side were those of 
 the tragic poets and actors at the same festival. Dr. Reisch's 
 reconstruction may be incorrect in some minor details, but must 
 certainly be accepted in principle. 
 
 One matter in connection with all these inscriptions has beeii 
 a subject of keen controversy among scholars, and the end is 
 not yet. The problem is too complicated to be discussed upon 
 its merits here, but the general situation may be outlined. When 
 a poet did not serve as his own didascalus but brought out his 
 play through someone else, did the name of the didascalus or 
 that of the poet appear in the records ? On a few points general 
 agreement is possible. For example, when a poet had applied 
 for a chorus in his own name but died before the festival and 
 someone else had to assume his didascalic duties, care seems to 
 have been taken at all periods to indicate the original didascalus. 
 Again, in cases of deliberate deception, as when a man without 
 dramatic powers secured the consent of a playwright to bring 
 out the latter 's work as his own and applied for a chorus as if 
 for his own play, naturally the name of the pseudo-author would 
 be the only one to appear in the records. The crucial case 
 remains, viz., when a dramatist wished to be reHeved of the 
 burden of stage management and arranged for a didascalus to 
 ask for a chorus and assume responsibility for the performance. 
 The matter becomes important with reference to Aristophanes 
 and the correct restoration of the Victors'-Lists for comic poets 
 at the City Dionysia and the Lenaea. 
 
 When Aristophanes had written his first play, the Banqueters, 
 youth, inexperience, diffidence, or some other motive for desiring 
 to avoid the responsibihty of staging his play caused him to 
 intrust it to Callistratus for production at the Lenaea of 427 B.C. 
 The same process was repeated at the City Dionysia of 426 B.C. 
 and the Lenaea of 425 B.C., when Callistratus brought out Aris-
 
 THEATRICAL RECORDS 327 
 
 tophanes' Babylonians and Acharnians, respectively. The 
 former piece was apparently unsuccessful, but the latter was 
 awarded the first prize. At the Lenaea of 424 B.C. Aristophanes 
 was equally successful with the Knights, which, however, he 
 produced in his own name. In vss. 5 12 ff . of this play the chorus 
 declares that many Athenians approached the poet and expressed 
 their surprise that he had not long before asked for a chorus 
 in his own name. This passage implies that the real authorship 
 of Aristophanes' earher pieces was known to a large section of 
 the pubHc, and makes it clear that he had produced no earlier 
 plays in his own name. Therefore if he had won a City victory 
 during this period the comedy with which he won it must have 
 been brought out in the name of another. The earUest City 
 Dionysia, then, at which he could have produced a play in his 
 own name was in 424 B.C., two months later than the Knights. 
 Now in the Victors'-List for comic poets at the City Dionysia 
 (Fig. 78),' the letters 'Apt appear in line seven of the second 
 column. Is the name of Aristophanes or that of Aristomenes to 
 be restored here ? 
 
 We know that EupoUs, whose name stands next below in 
 the list, won a victory at the City Dionysia of 421 B.C. and that 
 Hermippus and Cratinus were successful at the City festival in 
 422 and 423 B.C., respectively. This leaves the City Dionysia 
 of 424 B.C. for some unknown victor, who may have been Aris- 
 tophanes producing a play in his own name. But, on the other 
 hand, these victories of Hermippus and Cratinus were certainly 
 not their first, and it is possible that the victory of EupoHs in 
 421 B.C. was also not his first. If any of these men was in fact 
 the City victor in 424 B.C., Aristophanes' name could be read at 
 this point on the stone only by supposing that he had won a City 
 victory at some date prior to the Knights and consequently with 
 a play which had been brought out by another. If this hypoth- 
 esis is correct, it would automatically be estabhshed that at this 
 
 ' Fig. 78 is taken from Wilhelm, op. cit., p. 107 and represents Corpus Inscrip- 
 tionum Graecarum, II, 977/ and k, together with two previously unpublished 
 fragments.
 
 328 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 period victories were credited to the actual poet rather than to ^ 
 his didascalus. The argument here is by no means conclusive, 
 however, and most authorities follow Dr. Wilhelm in restoring 
 the name of Aristomenes, another poet who belonged to the 
 same general period. 
 
 The same problem recurs in connection with the comic 
 Victors'-List for the Lenaea (Fig. 79) .^ Here Aristophanes' name 
 
 ['Ao-Ti/<a6 TTOrjTuiv] \T7]\a<X€L^8rjs 1 1 1 NiKO<^ai[v — ] 
 
 [xwyatKcov] [ ]s I ©£d7ro/A7r[os — ] 
 
 [XiCOViSt/S J KT^]<^tO-o[SoTOS ] 
 
 — — . . .]i[7r7ros ? — ] 
 
 S ' 4>€p[€KpaT7;S ] 
 
 r Js I 'Ep)U,[i7r7ros — J — 
 
 'Apt[<rT0/t€V7JS — ] — 
 
 [Mayvr^Js A I ETj[7roAts ■ — ] — 
 
 [ o^^ I Ka^AAt'o-Tjoaros — ] — 
 
 " ['AA/ctju,€]vi7[s] I ^pv[vLXO'i — ] — 
 
 [ ]s I 'A/i[£ii/^tas — ] — 
 
 rEi</)pdi'Jios I IIAaj^Twv — ] — 
 
 ['EK<^av]Ti8j;s Mil ^iX\_oiVLBr)<: — ] — 
 
 [Kpartjvos ^ ' AuK^ts — ]] — 
 
 *s [AtOTrJet^T^s 1 1 Aev^Kwv — J — 
 
 [Kpa]T7;s III 
 
 [KaXXiaJs II 
 
 Fig. 78. — ^Wilhelm's Transcription and Restoration of Four Fragments of the 
 
 Athenian Victors'-List. 
 
 See p. 327, n. i 
 
 is certainly to be restored somewhere in the lacuna below the 
 name of Eupolis in the first column. But whether his name 
 stood in a position corresponding to his own victory in 424 B.C. 
 or in one corresponding to his victory through the agency of 
 Callistratus in the previous year, or whether (to state it differ- 
 ently) the name of Callistratus must be restored ahead of Aris- 
 tophanes' own name because of his victory in 425 B.C., are 
 
 ' Fig. 79 is taken from Wilhehn, op. cit., p. 123, and represents Corpus Inscrip- 
 tionum Graecarum, II, gjjd, e,f, g, and h.
 
 THEATRICAL RECORDS 
 
 329 
 
 questions which are still incapable of categorical answers. Lack 
 of space will prevent a further argument of the matter, and I 
 must close with a summary of Dr. Jachmann's conclusions. 
 His discussion is not only the latest but takes certain factors 
 into account which had previously been ignored. He points 
 out that the archons' records, Aristotle's Didascaliae, and the 
 different types of inscriptions must be sharply differentiated and 
 that the first named are the ultimate source of all the others. 
 
 [Ai7i'atK]o[t ttot/JtiDj' 
 [Kw/it/c]wv 
 
 s ' ApiaT0fj.iv7]s II 
 KpaTivos 1 1 1 
 ^epeKpdTr]S \\ 
 "EpwiTTTTos nil 
 ^ptjvixos 1 1 
 
 '» MvpriXos I 
 [EiJJTToXts III 
 
 no[ ] I 
 
 M€[Tay^vri]i II 
 8^o[7ro/U7r]os || 
 
 noX[i;f7,Xo]s nil 
 
 NiKO^[wV — ] 
 
 ATro[\\o(pdvri'\s \ 
 ^ Afi[€i\l/ las — ] 
 N[tK0xclp7;s — ] 
 Se«'o[0]aii' I 
 ^tXyXXios I 
 ^iKdviKos I 
 
 [ > I 
 
 [Kri<piff65oros | 
 
 */Xt[7r7ros r?]|| 
 X6pTi[yos — ] 
 'Ava^a[v5pl]5T}S \\\ 
 $tX^ra[tpo]j 11 
 Eij^ovXos n 
 E(pnnros |[. ?] 
 
 [' A]i'Ti<pdv[r]s] nil I 
 
 [M]i'7?(7//i [axos] I 
 Nai;[ (TtKpdrJTjs ||| 
 Eu0d«'T;[s — ] 
 "AXe^sll [— ] 
 ['Ap]urT[^o<pQv — ] 
 
 Aio[w(rt]o5 I 
 KX4[apx]os[\. ] 
 A6r)voK'KT^s[ 
 Uvp[-^v?] I s 
 
 AXk^jvwp I 
 Tt/iOKX-^j I 
 JlpOK\eiST)s I 
 Myv]av5pos \[ — 
 ^[ilX-qp-iov III »» 
 
 ' ATroXX6dupo[s — ] 
 Ai(pi.Xos 1 1 1 
 ^iXnnridris \\[ — 
 
 — — — 'NiKdffTparos [ — 
 
 «s — — — KaXXidSr]s \ V 
 
 — — — ' Afxeivlas \ 
 
 — — ['A(r/cXTj7ri6?5w]/3os I ' ' ' 
 
 Fig. 79. — ^Wilhelm'3 Transcription and Restoration of Five Fragments of the 
 
 Athenian Victors'-List. 
 
 See p. 328, n. i 
 
 /The archons, of course, kept their records with no thought of 
 later literary investigations but mainly with a view to having a 
 definite list of men whom they were to hold responsible for 
 different events upon their programs. Naturally, then, they 
 had no interest in current or subsequent charges of plagiarism, 
 pretended authorship, etc. Jachmann maintains that prior 
 to about 380 B.C. the archons entered the name of the didascalus 
 alone, but after that date they recorded the names of both 
 didascalus and poet when these differed. He supposes the 
 change to have been due to a law, which was made necessary 
 by the increasing practice of intrusting plays to men who were
 
 330 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 not their authors and to the consequent differentiation of func- 
 tion between poets and didascali. According to Jachmann the 
 same situation probably obtained also in Aristotle's Didascaliae; 
 but in the Victors'-Lists and the inscriptional Didascaliae only the 
 didascali were listed before 380 B.C. and after that date only 
 the poets. In the Fasti, on the contrary, only the didascali, as 
 the use of the verb ibibaaKe would indicate, appeared at any time. 
 Besides some other inscriptions of lesser importance than 
 those already discussed, Aristotle's Didascaliae was the source, 
 directly or indirectly, also of several treatises, collections of 
 classified data, catalogues, etc., dealing with various phases of 
 Greek theatrical history and compiled by such men as Dicaear- 
 chus, CalHmachus, and Aristophanes of Byzantium, I shall 
 close with an account of one of these. I refer to the system of 
 numbering which was applied to ancient plays. Thus, according 
 to the ancient hypothesis (argument) to Sophocles' Antigone 
 that drama ''was counted the thirty-second" (XeXe/crat 5e ro 
 dpaixa rouTo t piaKoarop devrepov), and the first hypothesis to 
 Aristophanes' Birds declares that that comedy "is the thirty- 
 fifth" (eWt 8e Xe). Before going farther it will be best to state 
 that the latter numeral is inexplicable under any theory, but 
 that Dindorf's substitution of le for Xe ("fifteen" for "thirty- 
 five") is a satisfactory and convincing emendation. With the 
 publication of the Vatican hypothesis to Euripides' Alcestis in 
 1834 a third numeral came to light: to Spaixa eiroLrjdr] tf ("the 
 drama was made seventeenth"). By far the most significant 
 numeral, however, was pubKshed in the Oxyrhynchus Papyri 
 in 1904. Here at the top of the last column of a hypothesis to 
 Cratinus' lost Dionysalexandros stood the following heading, 
 doubtless repeated from the beginning of the hypothesis, which 
 is now lost: 
 
 AiovDcr[aX€|avSpos] "The Dionysalexandros 
 
 rj Eighth 
 
 KpaT[uvov] Of Cratinus" 
 
 Finally, one of the fragmentary hypotheses to two of Menander's 
 plays published in the Oxyrhynchus Papyri of 19 14 begins as
 
 THEATRICAL RECORDS 33 1 
 
 follows: "The Imhrians, commencing Tor how long a time, 
 Demeas, my good man, I . . . . you.' This he wrote in the 
 archonship of Nicocles, being his 7[.]th play {ravTrjv [eypa]\p€y 
 ext Nt/co/cX€o[us . . ]Tr)v Kal ejSdoixrjKoaTlrjv]) , and he gave it for 
 production at the Dionysia; but on account of the tyrant 
 Lachares the festival was not celebrated. Subsequently it was 
 acted by the Athenian Callippus." This numeral is partly 
 illegible, but was in the seventies, probably seventy-j&rst, 
 seventy- third, seventy-sixth, or seventy-ninth, possibly seventy- 
 fourth or seventy-fifth. 
 
 The interpretation of these numerals has suffered from the 
 fact that they did not become known simultaneously and from 
 the further fact that for the most part explanations have been 
 advanced by editors who contented themselves with proposing 
 the most plausible interpretation of the particular numeral 
 before them without taking the others into consideration. Of 
 the many suggestions offered I shall here confine my discussion to 
 two, the chronological and the alphabetical. The former inter- 
 ■ pretation is the oldest and receives confirmation from the fact 
 that Terence's comedies are not only arranged chronologically 
 in our manuscripts but are provided with numerals on that basis 
 in the didascalic notices which are prefixed to these Latin plays. 
 These numbers, of course, would trace back the system only to 
 the Romans and to about the time of Varro in the first century 
 B.C. But inasmuch as Aeschines' speeches are arranged on the 
 same principle, there can be no doubt that the Alexandrian 
 Greeks were f amihar with it. The chronological interpretation, y 
 however, has been open to three objections: (i) It is impossible 
 for Aristophanes' Birds to have been thirty-fifth in a chronologi- 
 cal arrangement of his plays. This obstacle may be evaded by 
 accepting Dindorf's emendation. (2) The Antigone and Alcestis 
 numerals are somewhat smaller than we might expect, since they 
 seem to assign too few plays to the earlier years of Sophocles' and 
 Euripides' activity as playwrights. This is not a serious ob- 
 jection but must be taken into account. (3) The Alcestis took 
 the place of a satyric drama and therefore stood fourth in its
 
 332 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 group. Consequently its numeral ought to be divisible by four, 
 and the number seventeen does not satisfy this requirement and 
 does not seem consistent with the tetralogic system employed 
 at the City Dionysia during this period. 
 
 These difficulties are not insuperable, but first I wish to refer 
 to another interpretation, which has enjoyed great popularity. 
 There is no doubt that the Greeks were acquainted, and at an 
 early date, with the alphabetical arrangement of titles. The 
 Oxyrhynchus arguments to Menander's plays, for example, 
 seem to have been arranged in accordance with this principle. 
 The objection that there would be no point in recording numerals 
 derived from an alphabetical system for the reason that it would 
 be as easy to turn to a given play by means of its initial letters 
 as by means of its number is invalid because in alphabetical 
 hsts the Greeks ignored all letters except the first. For example, 
 fifteen of Euripides' extant titles begin with alpha, and there 
 was no a priori method of knowing which of the fifteen places 
 available the Alcestis would occupy (Fig. 80).'' It becomes 
 necessary, then, to examine the alphabetical explanation without 
 prejudice, and fortunately it is now possible to reach an incon- 
 v/trovertible conclusion. The numerals have never lent them- 
 selves cordially to this interpretation, but the final coup de grace 
 was delivered by the recent discovery of the numeral for 
 Menander's Imbrians. Menander is said to have written from 
 one hundred and five to one hundred and nine pieces, but only 
 eighty-six titles are now known. Fifty-one of these, however, 
 have initial letters which come after iota in the Greek alphabet. 
 Now the smallest restoration which is possible for the Menander 
 numeral is seventy-one, and seventy-one plus fifty-one make 
 one hundred and twenty-two, or thirteen more than the largest 
 number recorded by any authority as the aggregate of Menan- 
 , der's works. Therefore the alphabetical explanation must be 
 rejected. 
 
 ^ Fig. 80 is taken from a photograph by Giraudon (Paris) and furnished by 
 Professor D. M. Robinson. Note that the first play in t;he list on the background 
 is the AAKHSTIS.
 
 Fig. 8o 
 
 THE VILLA ALBANI STATUE OF EURIPIDES IN THE LOUVRE WITH 
 
 THE BEGINNING OF AN ALPHABETICAL LIST OF HIS PLAYS 
 
 See p. 332, n. 1
 
 / THEATRICAL RECORDS 333 
 
 ^ We may now return to the chronological interpretation, and 
 first let us note the light which the Dionysalexandros numeral 
 throws upon the situation. It is significant that this number 
 is not incorporated within the hypothesis but stood at the top 
 of the last column and had doubtless appeared also at the 
 beginning of the hypothesis (now lost). In my opinion this 
 was the original form of such a notice and shows why in the 
 fuller form of statement found elsewhere a different verb is 
 employed in each case — \e\eKTai, ecFTi, iTroLrjdr], and 'eypaxpev. 
 When Aristophanes of Byzantium, or whoever was responsible 
 for the change, transferred these items from the heading and 
 made them integral parts of the hypothesis, finding no verb in 
 the original version before him and resting under the necessity 
 of now using one, he did not deem it essential to paraphrase 
 the information always in the same way but, as was natural, 
 (employed now one expression and now another. If it be 
 I true that the original function of the numerals was as we find 
 lit in the Cratinus h3^othesis, only one explanation is possible — 
 lit was a device for the convenience of some Hbrary, probably 
 1 that at Alexandria. If so, every play in the collection would 
 I bear a number and these numbers would run consecutively for 
 each author. In other words, if any play were not pre- 
 served in the Hbrary, that fact would not be indicated by an 
 unoccupied number being left as a gap in the enumeration. Of 
 course it is conceivable that the basis of arrangement was purely 
 arbitrary and even varied with each author, and in fact there 
 has been a distinct tendency among recent authorities to 
 accept some such pessimistic conclusion. But it is more prob- 
 able, until the contrary be proved, that some rational system 
 (alphabetical, chronological, etc.) was employed and employed 
 consistently. 
 
 Now there can be little room left for doubt as to what system 
 was actually chosen, when it is observed that the foregoing 
 statement of the numerals' purpose and use obviates two of the 
 three objections to the chronological interpretation. Euripides 
 produced his first play in 455 B.C. and died in 406 B.C. He is
 
 334 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 said to have written ninety-two plays, or an average of one and 
 four-fifths per annum. If the Alcestis were actually his seven- 
 teenth piece he must have written less than one play a year 
 between 455 B.C. and 438 B.C., when the Alcestis was produced, 
 and two and one-third plays a year thereafter. It is true that 
 Euripides' career opened slowly and that many of his later works 
 are characterized by hasty and careless execution. But this 
 disparity is too great, even apart from the objection that ex 
 hypothesi the Alcestis numeral ought to be a multiple of four. 
 If we suppose, however, that only the plays that were preserved 
 received a number, the situation at once clears. We are informed 
 that seventy-eight of Euripides' works (four of them spurious) 
 were preserved. This is confirmed by the fact that seventy- two 
 of his titles are now known, for the number of titles now extant 
 generally approximates closely the number of an author's plays 
 which were known by the ancients. If, then, the Alcestis was 
 seventeenth among the seventy-eight works which were passing 
 under the name of Euripides in antiquity and if it retained the 
 same relative position as in the complete hst, it must have been 
 about the twentieth play which he brought out. This number, 
 being divisible by four, would be suitable for the last play of a 
 tetralogy and would have the merit of reducing sHghtly the 
 disproportion between the earlier and the later activity of the 
 poet. Moreover, since the earlier plays of a dramatist are more 
 likely to have been lost than the later ones, it is possible to 
 suppose that the Alcestis may have been twenty-fourth or 
 even twenty-eighth in a complete list (chronological) of his 
 writings. The point is that the purpose of the numerals as 
 deducible from the Dionysalexandros instance is capable of 
 obviating all objections to the chronological interpretation of 
 the Alcestis numeral. 
 
 Similarly, Sophocles is said to have written one hundred and 
 twenty-three plays, and his career extended from about 468 B.C. 
 to 406 B.C., yielding an average of about two plays per annum. 
 Inasmuch as the Antigone was probably performed in 441 B.C. 
 and bears the numeral thirty-two, an unmodified chronological
 
 THEATRICAL RECORDS 335 
 
 interpretation would give an average of one and one-seventh 
 plays a year for Sophocles' earlier period and of two and three- 
 sevenths for his later period. But we now have fragments of 
 somewhat more than one hundred Sophoclean plays; and if the 
 Antigone was thirty-second among these and retained the same 
 relative position as at first, it would have been about the thirty- 
 seventh play which Sophocles wrote. Of course this is a mere 
 estimate, but again this solution has the merit of assigning a 
 slightly larger number of plays to the earlier years of the poet 
 and of reducing, to that extent, the only objection to the 
 chronological interpretation of this numeral. 
 
 Aristophanes' first comedy was produced in 427 B.C., and his 
 last one not much later than 388 B.C. To him were attributed 
 forty-four plays, four of which were considered spurious. Appar- 
 ently all of his works were known to the ancients. The Birds 
 iwas produced at the City Dionysia of 414 B.C. in the fourteenth 
 lyear of his activity as a playwright. There is, therefore, no 
 a priori reason for refusing to beheve that it was Aristophanes' 
 [fifteenth play. Nor does any obstacle arise from the chronology 
 of the plays, so far as they can be dated. On the other hand the 
 [traditional numeral, thirty-five, is inexpHcable under any logical 
 system of enumeration, while Dindorf's emendation is paleo- 
 graphically simple. Therefore we must accept the substitution 
 and the chronological interpretation. 
 
 Cratinus' career began about 452 B.C. and closed in 423 B.C. 
 or soon thereafter. Most scholars suppose his Dionysalexandros 
 to have been brought out in 430 or 429 B.C., though I was myself 
 at first inclined to favor an earHer date. He is said to have 
 written twenty-one plays. Twenty-six titles, however, were 
 accepted for him by Meineke and Kock in their editions of the 
 Greek comic fragments. Probably a few of these titles must be 
 rejected as spurious or transferred to the younger Cratinus, but 
 it is also possible that Cratinus was much more productive than 
 is commonly supposed and that twenty-one was the number 
 of his preserved works in Alexandrian times, not of all that he 
 had composed. As the custom of publishing comedies seems to
 
 336 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 have started only at about the beginning of Cratinus' career (see 
 p. 55, above), it would not be surprising if many of his plays, 
 especially of his earlier plays, were lost. At any rate in a chrono- 
 logical arrangement of twenty-one comedies, whether they were 
 the whole or only the preserved part of Cratinus' work, the 
 Dionysalexandros could be the eighth. These conclusions are 
 acceptable to Professor R. H. Tanner, who will shortly publish 
 a dissertation deahng with the chronology of Cratinus' plays 
 and whose results on the point now under discussion he has 
 kindly permitted me to summarize here. He follows Croiset 
 in assigning the Dionysalexandros to the Lenaea of 430 B.C.; six 
 plays he definitely dates before the Dionysalexandros , and a 
 seventh somewhat less positively. In the thirteen remaining 
 he has found nothing to indicate a date prior to 430 B.C. Some 
 of them certainly belong to the period subsequent to 430 B.C. 
 It will be seen that these conclusions are in thorough accord 
 with my interpretation of the numeral. 
 
 The chronology of Menander's life is not free from uncer- 
 tainties, but these do not seriously affect the present discussion. 
 His first play was performed perhaps as early as 324 B.C., and 
 his decease probably took place in 292/1 B.C. During these 
 thirty-three or thirty-four years he composed some one hundred 
 and nine pieces or slightly over three per annum. Now Nicocles 
 was archon in 302/1 B.C. If, then, the hypothesis is correct in 
 assigning the Imhrians to the archonship of this man, the number 
 seventy-one (the smallest restoration which is possible) or 
 seventy-nine (the largest possible) would almost perfectly fit 
 the requirements of the case. Eighty-six Menandrian titles 
 are now known, and it is not likely that many of his plays were 
 lost in Alexandrian times. 
 
 We may, therefore, summarize the preceding discussion as 
 follows : If we follow Dindorf in reading te for Xe in the h3^othesis 
 to Aristophanes' Birds, the numerals are capable of a uniform 
 interpretation; they were a Hbrary device and were assigned 
 to the plays represented in some collection, most probably that
 
 THEATRICAL RECORDS 337 
 
 at Alexandria, according to the dates of their premieres. It is 
 needless to state that in establishing the chronological sequence 
 of the plays in their possession the library authorities would 
 depend upon Aristotle's Didascaliae or other handbooks derived 
 therefrom.
 
 CORRIGENDA ET ADDENDA 
 
 P. xii, 11. I f. The plays of Chaeremon and the other avayvcaaTiKoi 
 mentioned in Aristotle's Rhetoric, 1413612, were "capable of being read" 
 with enjoyment in addition to being performed, rather than "closet dramas " 
 in the modem sense. Cf. Haigh, The Tragic Drama of the Greeks, pp. 426-29. 
 
 P. xvii, U. 10 ff. To the works cited should now be added GoodeU's 
 Athenian Tragedy (1920), and Norwood's Greek Tragedy (1920). 
 
 Pp. XX f. To the works cited should now be added Bieber's Die Denk- 
 mdler zum Theaterwesen im Altertum (1920), a profusely illustrated corpus 
 of scenic data which at last antiquates Wieseler's T heater gebdude und 
 Denkmdler des Buhnenwesens bei den Griechern und Romern (1851). For 
 Frickenhaus, Die altgriechische BUhne (1917), see Allen's review in Classical 
 Philology, XVII (1922), pp. 166 fif. 
 
 P. s, 1. 18. Cf. Norwood, op. cit, pp. 42 f : "As to the value of Aristotle's 
 evidence we must distinguish carefully between the facts which he reports 
 and his comment thereon. The latter we should study with the respect 
 due to his vast merits; but he is not infallible. When, for instance, .... 
 he blames Euripides because 'Iphigenia the suppliant in no way resembles 
 her later self, '■ we shall regard him less as helping us than as dating himself. 
 But as to the objective facts which he records he must be looked on as for us 
 infallible. He lived in or close to the periods of which he writes; he com- 
 manded a vast array of documents now lost to us; he was strongly desirous 
 of ascertaining the facts; his temperament and method were keenly scien- 
 tific; his industry prodigious. We may, and should, discuss his opinions; 
 his facts we cannot dispute." 
 
 P. 16, 1. 22. 'k-KOKp'ivtadai became viroKpiveadai when masks were 
 introduced and the actors spoke from "beneath" or "behind" them {viro). 
 
 P. 17, n. For new interpretations of Aeschylus' statement concerning 
 Homer, cf. Scott, The Unity of Homer (1921), pp. 27 f., and Radin, "Homer 
 and Aeschylus," Classical Journal, XVII (1922), 332 ff. 
 
 P. 62, 1. 13. Cf. Travels in Greece, pp. 61 ff., published in 1776 but 
 referring to a journey taken in 1765. 
 
 P. 65, 1. 10, "about eighty-eight feet in diameter." In my fi.rst edition 
 the diameter of the orchestra-terrace was given as seventy -eight feet (24 m.). 
 This statement was derived from Dorpfeld himself, cf. Das griechische 
 Theater, pp. 26 f . In Philologische Wochenschrift, XLI (i92i),i2i3, however, 
 he pointed out that in the drawings of his earlier pubHcation this circle 
 was given a diameter of 26 m. (!), and he is now willing to accept a diameter 
 
 ' See p. 267, above. 
 
 338 
 
 I
 
 CORRIGENDA ET ADDENDA 339 
 
 of 27 m. This discrepancy between Dorpfeld's text and his drawings is 
 most surprising and had escaped the attention of all subsequent writers on 
 the subject. But a compass will quickly establish the fact that a circle of 
 26 m. or 27 m. is required to include the stones B and C and the cutting at 
 A in Figure 32, above. In the following discussion a diameter of eighty- 
 eight feet (27 m.) is accepted as correct. 
 
 Pp. 66 ff. Our knowledge of the Athenian theater has been substan- 
 tially increased by Allen, "The Greek Theater of the Fifth Century before 
 Christ, " University of California Studies in Classical Philology, Vol. VII 
 (1920). Like the rest of us, Professor Allen accepted 24 m. as the diameter 
 of the early orchestra-terrace; but fortunately his conclusions were largely 
 based upon Dorpfeld's drawings and so he was dealing with a 26 m. circle 
 without knowing it. Nevertheless it is necessary to recast his statements 
 somewhat in view of the situation disclosed in the preceding paragraph. 
 
 If then 27 m. be accepted as correct for the diameter of the early 
 orchestra-terrace, it is identical in size with a hypothetical orchestra-terrace 
 of the Lycurgus theater as determined by the front line of the lowest row 
 of seats in the auditorium of this period (Fig. 81).' Now if this orchestra- 
 terrace, together with the orchestra and scene-buildings of the Lycurgus 
 theater, be thought of as pushed a few feet south and east back to the 
 original site of the theater and until it coincides with the orchestra-terrace 
 of Aeschylus (Fig. 82),^ some interesting relationships are brought to light.J 
 In the first place, the inner corners of the parascenia touch the inner edge 
 of the terrace's retaining wall, and the wall connecting the parascenia at 
 the rear forms a tangent to the terrace wall. Secondly, if a line be drawn 
 between the parascenia in their new position at the same distance back of 
 their front line as the Hellenistic proscenium stood back of the Hellenistic 
 parascenia (viz., about four feet, this probably being the position also of 
 the wooden proscenium in the Lycurgus theater, see pp. 69 f., above), this 
 line would be "an exact chord of the outermost circumference of the old 
 terrace-wall." Also, the fragments K K' in Figure 82 are contemporaneous 
 with fragments B and C of the early orchestra-terrace (Fig. 32) and probably 
 belonged to the retaining wall of the parodus in the first half of the fifth 
 century. If a line determined by these fragments be continued to the east, 
 it will intersect the retaining wall of the orchestra-terrace at about the same 
 pwint as does the chord. It is to be observed, also, how closely the position 
 of this chord as deduced from the position of the proscenium in the Hellen- 
 
 ' Fig. 81 is specially drawn but rs partially based upon Noack (see Fig. 32a, 
 above) and Allen, op. cit., Fig. 17. 
 
 ^ Fig. 82 is specially drawn from an outline kindly furnished by Professor 
 Allen to illustrate his present position. 
 
 3 These are somewhat confused in Dorpfeld's review of Allen, Pkilologische 
 Wochenschrift, XLI (1921), 1212 ff.
 
 340 
 
 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA
 
 CORRIGENDA ET ADDENDA 
 
 341
 
 342 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 istic theater approximates that of the south side of a square inscribed 
 in the orchestra-terrace, see Figures 43 and 82. Finally, the Lycurgus 
 orchestra, 19.61 m. in diameter and separated from the north boundary of 
 the Aeschylean orchestra-terrace by the same distance (2.5 m.) as from the 
 hypothetical orchestra-terrace of the Lycurgus theater (see E F and G H in 
 Fig. 81), almost has as its tangent the hne connecting the front walls of the 
 parascenia. 
 
 These discoveries at once confirm the common assumption that the 
 "fourth century structure probably reproduced in stone the main outlines 
 of the earlier theater in which the later tragedies of Sophocles and Euripides 
 and all the plays of Aristophanes were performed" (see p. 70, above), and 
 also make clear that this theater was itself a reproduction, on a slightly 
 different site, of the still earlier scenic arrangements. It thus becomes 
 evident that the shift in the position of the theater took place about 430 B.C. 
 and not about 465 B.C., a point which in my first edition I considered still 
 to be a matter of doubt. 
 
 Further inferences are more uncertain. AUen believes the earliest 
 portion of the scene-buUding, the "Aeschylean aKrjvij," to have been a 
 small stoa-like structure erected wholly on the orchestra-terrace along the 
 chord above mentioned. He thinks that this was built primarily as a 
 background, and hints that it may have been used in the time of Aeschylus' 
 Seven against Thebes or Persians, or even of the Suppliants, certainly several 
 years before 458 B.C. At an early date, perhaps as early as the Eumenides, 
 this <7Kr]vq was extended beyond the circle of the terrace and two parascenia 
 were added at its ends so as to afford a more effective and more ornamental 
 screen for actors passing behind the scenes from one parodus to the other 
 and also to increase the dressing-room facilities. These parascenia and 
 portions of the enlarged aKT]vi] stood outside of the orchestra-terrace (Fig. 82). 
 Finally, he beUeves that not later than about 430 B.C., when the position 
 of the theater was shifted for two reasons mentioned on page 68, above, a 
 real scene-building (two stories) was built behind the rear wall of the old 
 (jK-qvi) (in its new position), which was thus automatically converted into a 
 proscenium. Thus, the proscenium of the fully developed theater was not 
 a later addition or an afterthought but a transformation of the original unit 
 of the structure. 
 
 I find myself unable, however, to accept this series of developments as 
 correct at all points. I find plausibility in Noack's contention' that origin- 
 ally there was only one entrance to the orchestra-terrace; this was a ramp 
 leading up to the terrace from the west and was delimited on the south by 
 
 ' Cf. Sktjj^ TpayiKi), Eine Studie uber die scenischen Anlagen auf der Orchestra 
 des Aischylos und der anderen Tragiker (1915), p. 5. Noack's reconstruction of the 
 scene-buildings, however, is invalidated by Allen's discovery.
 
 CORRIGENDA ET ADDENDA 343 
 
 aai ancient retaining wall, of which two fragments are located at K K' in 
 Figure 82. Therefore, it is probable that, when scenic accessories such as 
 an altar or tomb were required in a certain play, they were located on the 
 terrace wdth reference to the line of this wall. Before long, I believe, a 
 quasi-permanent structure was erected for this purpose just outside the 
 terrace where one of the parascenia afterward stood. WTien the require- 
 ments of a play demanded a second structure, the obvious position was that 
 afterward occupied by the other parascenium on the opposite side of the 
 terrace. The earliest of the preserved plays which demands two entrances 
 is Aeschylus' Libation-Bearers, where the women's quarters and the men's 
 quarters are expressly referred to (vss. 712 and S78), and the doors leading 
 into them were undoubtedly visible to the audience; but of course this 
 innovation must have been introduced several years before the date of that 
 play (458 B.C.). It must quickly have occurred to someone that there 
 would be an advantage in concealing the movements of actors and "stage- 
 hands" behind the scenes by connecting these two buildings with a low wall 
 erected along a chord of the terrace. It is probable that this development 
 had already taken place in the time of Aeschylus' Sevot against Thebes 
 (467 B.C.) ; at least, such a mise en scene would suitably suggest two redoubts 
 and the parapet of the Theban acropoUs where the action of this play is 
 laid. When matters had reached this stage, further developments came 
 thick and fast, for the structures were all more or less temporary and there 
 is an ancient tradition that in the early days the theater setting was recon- 
 structed annually.' When a third doorway w'as desired, perhaps thought 
 of as leading into a more pretentious building, what more natural than to 
 enlarge the connecting wall between the parascenia (to use the later terra 
 for them) into a long, oblong chamber with a central door in its front wall and 
 its rear wall forming a tangent to the terrace at A (Figs. 81 f.; also Fig. 74). 
 About 430 B.C., when the expanding needs of Athenian drama called for 
 larger scenic accommodations, the orchestra and its structures were moved 
 about thirty-five feet north and west so that a more ample scene-building 
 could be erected behind the tangent at C on the new (hypothetical) 
 orchestra-terrace, and this was one of the compelling reasons for the shift 
 in location. Simultaneously, as I believe, a wooden colonnade w^as built in 
 front of the parascenia and the intermediate portion of the new scene- 
 building along a line corresponding to the old chord, thus providing a pro- 
 scenium. Perhaps it was at this time, also, that two additional doors 
 were placed in the front wall of the scene-building, and those in the para- 
 scenia closed. At least this is the situation in the Lycurgus theater 
 (Fig. 32), which probably follows its predecessor in this respect. Unfor- 
 tunately it is quite impossible to date all these developments with exactness 
 
 » Cf. Kaibel, Comicoriim Graecorum Fragmenla, I, 22 (Tzetzes).
 
 344 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 or even to trace their precise sequence. Allen, it will be remembered, 
 favors a proscenium-like (XKrjvfj as early as 450 B.C. On the other hand, no 
 permanent proscenium was erected before Hellenistic times (see p. 70, 
 above). But at least we should be grateful that some additional light has 
 recently been thrown on our problems. 
 
 P. 90, n. I. It should be remembered, as stated on p. 69, that this 
 particular seat belongs to the Lycurgus theater in the next century. The 
 inscription was not cut upon it until the first century B.C. ; previously the 
 inscription must have been painted, or no need of one was felt until the chairs 
 of other dignitaries were inscribed, cf. Dorpfeld, Das griechische Theater, 
 pp. 46 f. Of course, there can be no doubt where the priest of Dionysus 
 sat in the Athenian theater. 
 
 P. 91, n. 3. The scholiast on verse 149 of Aristophanes' Knights states 
 that in theatrical usage ava^alveiv and Kara^aiveLV had acquired the techni- 
 cal meanings of " go on " and ''gooff" and that this had arisen "from ancient 
 practice." This interpretation has been adopted by many modem authori- 
 ties who have difficulty, however, in discovering the source of the "ancient 
 practice." Allen, "The Greek Theater of the Fifth Century before Christ," 
 pp. 36 ff , derives it from the upward slope of the parodi leading to the 
 orchestra-terrace in the earliest period of the Athenian theater. 
 
 P. 100, 11. 26 f. Unless the anecdote in Athenaeus, p. 63 iF, is modern- 
 ized, viroffKrivLov is there used with reference to the first-story room of the 
 Hellenistic theater. Antigenidas is mentioned in the Delian Victors'-List 
 for 265 B.C. 
 
 Pp. 113 f. Further light has been thrown on the Priene theater by 
 Armin von Gerkan's profusely illustrated Das Theater von Priene (1921). 
 He assigns the Hellenistic structure (Fig. 83)' to about 300 B.C. and with 
 Dorpfeld interprets its proscenium as a background, not a stage. He 
 suggests, somewhat improbably, that the origin of the proscenium in Greek 
 theaters is to be sought in the field of Peloponnesian comedy (p. 126). 
 The Graeco-Roman rebuilding (Fig. 84)' of the Priene theater he places at 
 about 160 B.C., and maintains that this was the period when a stage was 
 introduced into Greek theaters under the influence of comedy as produced 
 in Southern Italy (pp. 128 f.). He believes that alongside of the formal, 
 state performances at Athens and elsewhere, which were choral by origin and 
 so were best adapted to presentation in an orchestra, there must always 
 have existed non-choral popular performances which made no pretense of 
 artistic excellence but were very attractive to the masses, and that they 
 were probably presented outside of the state theater and on rude stages. 
 With the gradual shrinking of the dramatic chorus the existence of such 
 performances facilitated the introduction of a staged type of theater from 
 Magna Graecia in the middle of the second century. 
 
 ' Figs. 83 f. reproduce Plates 36 and 35 respectively in von Gerkan's book.
 
 >Mfe li 
 
 o 
 
 w 
 
 p^
 
 CORRIGENDA ET ADDENDA 
 
 345 
 
 eu 
 
 H 2 
 
 
 o 
 
 f^ 
 
 Pm
 
 346 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 Pp. 114 f. Cf. Athenaeus, p. 622C: ot 5e (/)aXXo(/)6pot .... irapkpxov- 
 Tttt 01 fi^v eK vapodov, ol 8e /card fiecras ras dvpas. 
 
 P. 124, 11. 7 ff. and 29 f. Cf. Goodell, Athenian Tragedy (1920), p. 63: 
 "But our personal suffering, while it may be idealized into a work of art 
 that will give the right pleasure to others, cannot be so re-presented to us. 
 Our pain will be so keen as to overpower the pleasure." Phrynichus had 
 not learned this dramatic law. 
 
 P. 136, 1. 15. Cf. Goodell, op. cit., p. 77: "A Greek tragedy could not 
 exist without a chorus, the historic beginning and ever the heart of drama 
 to the Greeks. A unified group of participants in the action — •fifty, twelve, 
 finally fifteen — had to be provided, whether the story naturally called for 
 them or not. The first business of the playwright was to shape the story 
 so that it would call for them." 
 
 Pp. 141 f. For a second chorus in Roman tragedy, cf. Classical Journal^ 
 XIII (1918), 561 f. .(Frank). 
 
 P. 163, I. 4. The next step beyond the lyric duet between chorus and 
 coryphaeus would be one between chorus and actor, such as Aeschylus' 
 Suppliants, verses 843-903. This p)assage and verses 347 fif. and 736 ff., 
 together with Persians, verses 256 ff. and 694 ff., are in the epirrhematic 
 form (see p. 41, above) in which Kranz, "Die Urform der attischen Tragodie 
 und Komodie," Neue Jahrhiicher fiir das klassische Alterlum, XX.III (19 19), 
 145 ff., recognizes the first germ of dramatic action in both tragedy and 
 comedy. For the latter there is nothing new about this doctrine (see p. 42, 
 above) . The tragic passages cited show types in the course of development, 
 since the replies of the actor must originally have been in lyric meter, then 
 in the primitive trochaic tetrameter (see pp. 22 and 45, above), and finally 
 in iambics. 
 
 P. 169, 1. 15. Rupprecht defends the variant reading hv iitacjo (not 
 fiovtc) tQ Qaixvpih as the correct text in Sophodis Vita, 5, cf. Philologus^ 
 LXXVI (1920), 213 ff. This would change the point of the anecdote. 
 
 Pp. 193 f. Cf. Holzapfel, Kennt die griechische Tragodie eine Aktein- 
 teilung? (19 1 4). 
 
 P. 202, 1. 23. According to Plato's Symposium (223D), Socrates 
 forced Aristophanes and Agathon to admit that "the same man might 
 understand how to comp>ose comedy and tragedy"; but Ion of Chios, who 
 began to exhibit tragedies in 451 B.C. and was defeated by Euripides in 
 428 B.C., is the only known example. He dabbled in a dozen forms of 
 literature. 
 
 Pp. 225 f. David Belasco's The Return of Peter Grimm also observes 
 the Greek rules. In this instance, however, the ghost's speeches, though 
 heard by the audience, are thought of as being inaudible to the other charac- 
 ters on the stage but unconsciously affecting their thoughts and conduct.
 
 CORRIGENDA ET ADDENDA 347 
 
 P. 226, 1. 35. Possibly at first by a single parodus, see p. 342. 
 
 P. 23s, 11. 8 flf. Petersen, Die attische Tragodie als Bild- utid Bilhtienktinst 
 ^igis), p. 561, stages this scene in terms of upper and lower parodi, which 
 tie very improbably claims for the fifth-century theater. 
 
 P. 241, 11. 21 ff. "In Racine and Corneille, on the contrary, the com- 
 monest location of the action is a palace ; it is what takes place out of doors 
 that must be narrated," cf. Goodell, Athenian Tragedy, p. 81. 
 
 P. 248, 1. II. Cf. Goodell, op. cit. p. 89: "Discreet silence about 
 distances and anything like a city plan leaves all inconvenient details 
 floating in ideal space." 
 
 P. 249, 11. 3-5. A slighter instance occurs in Aeschylus' Eumenides, 
 cf. Goodell, op. cit. p. 85: "The ancient image of the goddess was in fact 
 in the temple, as everybody knew; but since dramatic necessity required 
 it to be outside, outside it was, that the play might go on. And the temple 
 itself is henceforth ignored and so disappears from the play." 
 
 P. 266, 11. 7 flf. There was the possibility, however, of a great difference 
 between a personage's apparent character at the beginning of the play and 
 that which was gradually revealed in the course of the dramatic action as 
 his soul's history was unrolled bit by bit and stripped of its false glamor. 
 This unveiling process commended itself to Sophocles in his Oedipus the 
 King no less than to Ibsen in Rosmersholm. Cf. also A. T. Murray, "Plot 
 and Character in Greek Tragedy," Transactions American Philological 
 Association, XL VII (191 6), 51 ff. 
 
 P. 267, 11. 14 ff. An opposite opinion was held by Goodell, op. cit., 
 p. 191: "Here, in a play extraordinarily rich in dramatic material of every 
 kind, is a group of characters portrayed with a vigor and directness never 
 surpassed, exhibiting a fuUness of indlviduaUty that the greatest actors 
 would find inexhaustible." 
 
 Pp. 282 f. Cf. Goodell, op. cit., p. 164: "Modem plays tend to abbre- 
 viate this final stage. Modern audiences — perhaps because it is late in the 
 evening — get impatient to leave after the struggle is decided; they are 
 less interested in seeing results fully set forth. The Athenians, on the other 
 hand, Hked a longer and fuller telos." 
 
 Pp. 284 f. Cf. Norwood, Greek Tragedy, pp. 66 f: "The Elizabethan 
 theater accepted precisely this contrivance of the eccyclema. In our texts 
 of Henry VI (Part II, Act III, scene 2) we read this stage-direction: 'The 
 folding-doors of an inner chamber are thrown open, and Gloucester is 
 discovered dead in his bed: Warwick and others standing by it.' Instead 
 of all this, the old direction merely says: 'Bed put forth.' In another 
 early drama we find the amusing instruction: 'Enter So-and-So in Bed.' 
 The aesthetic objection to the eccyclema has no force whatever."
 
 348 THE GREEK THEATER AND ITS DRAMA 
 
 P. 285, n. 2. Figure 74 has been redrawn since the first edition in order 
 to include the parascenia and their doors. I am indebted to my friend, 
 Mr. Thomas E. Tallmadge, of the American Institute of Architects, for 
 the new drawing. 
 
 P. 29s, 11. 33 £f. Some would interpret Euripides' use of the deus ex 
 machina in terms of his alleged rationaUstic propaganda. That is to say, 
 accepting the presuppositions of the plot chosen for dramatic treatment 
 he sought to develop the incidents in a perfectly natural and logical way to 
 a finale which coidd only be transformed to the traditional ending by a 
 divine interposition. Thus, at verse 1625 of his Orestes, we have reached 
 a conclusion which was the inevitable outcome of Orestes' circumstances, 
 character, and adventures. Only a deity could reconcile him to his estranged 
 relatives and subjects and restore his fortunes. According to this view, the 
 patent divergence between tradition and the actualities of existence would 
 convince all who were capable of being convinced that the popular theology 
 and its tales must be revamped or abandoned. This device would be 
 particularly effective if a god should be required to impose his authority 
 in a fashion which would not measure up to the best standards of himian 
 morality and conduct. 
 
 Pp. 2982. Cf. Spring, "A Study of Exposition in Greek Tragedy," 
 Harvard Studies, XXVIII (1917), 135 ff., and Stuart, "Foreshadowing and 
 Suspense in the Euripidean Prologue," Studies in Philology, XV (1918), 
 295 flf. 
 
 P. 303, 11. 17 ff. Stuart, op. cit., p. 306, "amends" Murray's statement: 
 "There is a secret and the playwright aims at this sort of excitement. 
 We are told once in unequivocal words, with nothing to cast doubt on them, 
 exactly what will happen (Hippolytus). But generally we are told what 
 thing we may hope or fear will happen. Or we are told what will happen 
 and we find that it does not happen with the expected result (Orestes and 
 Electra condemned to death). Or we are told how it will happen and find 
 that it does not happen in this way (Ion)."
 
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